keith. [ * * * * * ] (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
synchronized) wrote2017-10-13 08:49 am
synchronized) wrote2017-10-13 08:49 am
open post.
TEXT | AUDIO | VIDEO | PROMPTS
TEXT | AUDIO | VIDEO | PROMPTS
TEXT | AUDIO | VIDEO | PROMPTS
TEXT | AUDIO | VIDEO | PROMPTS
no subject
[ keith had left dinner early. small talk has never been his wheelhouse, so to speak, and there's only so much of the stilted, awkward, we're likely going to die tomorrow but let's pretend we're in good spirits mood going on that he could take before he says something terrible to the rest of the table. food goo remained as tasteless as it ever was. the galra from the blade of marmora are as discomfiting to look at as always, their presence a hard reminder of their shared biology.
and even if princess allura's assured him that his galra genetics don't define him, he can't help but feel its weight pressing painfully between his shoulder blades. pinning him down to the proverbial floor of his mind. so keith ends up in room ahead of shiro, where he's flipping his knife back and forth to keep his hands occupied, hoping it'll disengage his mind from ramping up on overthinking. it's not really working, but it's something to do.
that's how shiro finds him, when he arrives - keith sitting on the floor of his room, tossing the knife from one hand to the other, the blade dancing in the low light. keith looks up to shiro, eyes darkening at the insinuation in the older man's words. the knife stops in one hand, keith's grip firm on the handle; he doesn't put it away just yet. he blinks, takes a moment before he answers. ]
Do you want me to work on your back first, or do you want to jump right in and choke me?
Or we could talk.
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Keith is the outlier. Keith knows him too well to think that Shiro's just...fine with all of this. Anxiety thrums under his skin, like an itch too deep to scratch so instead he's left hyper aware of it. Keith knows, more often than not, when he's pretending to be fine and when he actually is. Normally, this is inconvenient when he's trying to pretend but right now in a situation where there's no pretending things are okay, he's fine letting the faux-surety slip away. ]
How much of a hypocrite do I sound like if I say talking won't help?
[ He slides in the door and palms it closed, locks it, before coming over. Time together means he doesn't hesitate about this part; he always asks to come in, but once invited, he's comfortable enough in Keith's space to settle on the bed next to where Keith's sitting on the floor.
A pretty big hypocrite, he figures, since he always stresses the need for talking about what troubles them, but he also knows: there's no talking about this, now. ]
The plan's...solid. All the pieces are in place. We have all the contingency plans we can think of. By all rights, it should work. There's nothing else to talk about.
[ But.
There's always a but.
At the mention of his back - and Keith's throat, Shiro shifts over until his knees are on either side of Keith's shoulders and he can wind broad, thick arms around his chest, sliding a hand up to rest gently, thumb and index finger on either side of Keith's throat. It's an offer, his lips pressing against Keith's ear. ]
I can, if that's what you want.
[ What goes unsaid is that it's not necessarily what he wants. ]
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[ he turns his head to nuzzle against shiro's arm first, murmuring with his eyes closed as he does. shiro is— warm, runs warmer than he remembers him to be, and maybe that's a side effect of having an alien prosthetic attached firmly to his neural and physical systems. keith doesn't mind, doesn't care; he has him back. the kerberos mission wasn't a mistake, but the garrison giving up on the team was, and keith will always remain resentful for that fact.
but he's back now, he reminds himself, idly biting against shiro's sleeve before turning around. he's on his knees between shiro's legs, and shiro's hands are still wrapped loosely around his neck — a good sign. neither of them are too desperate yet.
we'll get there, keith thinks. i'll get you there.
he sits back on his heels, dragging shiro forward by the shirt collar and kissing him near-chastely on the mouth. the knife's handle presses gently against the back of shiro's neck, while keith mouths his way along shiro's jaw, along his cheek, down to the line of his neck.
if he had galra teeth, keith could break shiro's skin when he bites down on the softness just under the curve of his jaw. ]
I can wait. What do you need?
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[ You do, doesn't need to be uttered, but the long look that Shiro gives him is honestly enough, fills in the blanks between the words he says. Shiro shifts enough to let Keith move, tracing the line of his throat, the steady, soothing beat of his pulse with his thumb. The Galra hand shifts to his shoulder, holding there, steady without being too tight. All things in time. ]
Honesty would make people scared.
[ That part is murmured into Keith's mouth as the kiss breaks, brutal, awful honesty, his hand releasing from his throat to let Keith start that idle trail down from mouth to the line of his neck. It's soft with the threat of more; the edge of blunt teeth, the knife handle cold and unyielding unlike Keith who's a long line of warmth against him.
What do you need? Keith asks, and Shiro shudders out a breath. He's not so far gone, so foolish that he'd breathe what comes to mind instantly -- you. He's not a blushing kid in high school, he's not so needy that he can't handle things like an adult, but then again it's Keith. Keith, who doesn't trust or love easily, and who holds onto things with teeth and nails because too many things have been taken from him. Maybe a little honesty isn't bad, here. ]
You, here. [ There. A buffer, so it's not quite so much like laying his soul bare at Keith's feet. ] I'd say run through the plan again with me, but we've been through it so many times--
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[ it's a little bit of humor, a peppering of assurance to flavor the heady taste of shiro's skin on his tongue. keith doesn't say that he's more likely to run off and do his own plan of attack if things go sideways, because they always do, but that's not what shiro needs to hear right now.
it's not what keith wants to talk about, either. ]
All right, [ he breathes out, dropping one hand to shiro's galra hand— pulling it away, firmly settling it on shiro's own thigh. keith gets up on his feet, graceful in the economy of his movements, presses a kiss to the top of shiro's head. the hand with the knife remains, now shifted so that the flat of the double-edged blade is resting on shiro's nape. keith keeps a thumb on shiro's pulse - digs the nail roughly against the vein. ] I've got you.
[ it's all the warning he offers shiro, as he takes a handful of the man's hair and yanks, titling shiro's head back and making him look up. ]
What's on the table and what isn't?
ok axel
He has that in him - all he needs is to see it himself. ]
I know.
[ It's a low, soft sigh against Keith's belly as he leans into him, hand placed where it's instructed. Maybe that's part of why they get along so well; when Shiro'd first come to the Garrison, he'd been a little arrogant, a little mouthy until he'd learned better, until he'd grown into himself and respected people more. All he'd needed was someone to show him how, to have the patience to take time with him and help him grow from that into something good. Raw talent was shit unless it was honed into something useful.
That said, it still edges out once in a while. Keith yanks at his hair and it punches a soft, breathy little groan out of him; he looks up at Keith through his lashes and defiantly slides both hands back to Keith's hips, pushes his shirt up and licks a line over his belly, bites at the line of his hip. ]
Nothing that'll strain my arms too much tomorrow; I need to be able to pilot. [ Which means no restraints; half the time he can't stomach them anyway and they compromise by making him hold something without letting go to deal with it. A pause, and then wryly: ] Need to be able to sit comfortably tomorrow, too, but a little bruising or discomfort isn't so bad. Nothing -- no humiliation.
[ The latter happens even more rarely; sometimes he wants to be degraded, wants to be taken down a notch from the flawless leader into something else, broken down and then built back up into something worthy of Keith's time, but not tonight, not with so important of a mission ahead. ]
wrong franchise!!!
keith sets the blade aside, finally. he needs his hands, as he nods in acknowledgment, the hand on shiro's hair gentling for a moment only to return with twice the pressure in his grip. ]
Some other time, then.
[ it's a promise, as sincere as anything keith has ever promised to shiro. if he's being honest, he's yearning to mess shiro up in the filthiest ways he can muster - but they don't have the time for that. not yet.
keith lets shiro keep his hands on his hips for now; start things easy, and the heavy parts of this engagement can come with ease. he strips his gloves, takes off his jacket - that's as far as keith plans on taking off for now. which isn't to say that he stops there, far from it. with practiced ease he works his belt off its loops with his free hand, lets it fall to the floor with a quiet sound.
he gives a quick pull on shiro's hair, pushes on his lower lip with two fingers. ]
If you want to slow down, tap my left thigh twice. You want to stop, two taps on my right. Otherwise you keep your hands to yourself.
[ keith waits for a sign of acknowledgment, before continuing: ]
Work me open, I want your mouth on me.
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When the hand in his hair vanishes, he tilts his head from head to side just to stretch it out and then waits, not quite obediently, but close enough. Part of him itches to help Keith remove all of that, but he didn't ask for help, so he keeps his hands in place until they're in the way of the belt being loosened. It slithers free, hits the ground with a solid thunk and then he's being jerked up again, dragged where he needs to be.
Shiro's eyelashes flutter with it, breathing out a soft, pleased noise at the pull, the sharpness of it. Nothing Keith does short of breaking limbs or actually breaking skin has ever well and truly hurt him; the Galra made sure that his perception of pain was a little more than just backwards. The instructions are clear, easy to follow and remember which is good; when he gets too deep into this headspace he can remember some things, but the simpler, the better. ]
Yes, sir.
[ Shiro murmurs it against Keith's finger, dares to shift enough that he can drag his tongue over the flat of his fingers and then sucks them into his mouth with a pleased hum, but it's teasing, too. Keith said he had to keep his hands to himself after getting him undone, sure. Didn't say anything about his mouth, yet, so he scrapes his teeth lightly over Keith's fingers and lets out a throaty little moan, playing it up, rolling his eyes up to look at Keith through his lashes again. It buys time for him to work his fingers up, to undo his zipper, flick open his button and work those out of the way so he can get Keith's cock out. ]
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keith's mouth falls open just a bit, breath hitching in a way that's hard to read for anyone other than shiro - it's a small sound that escapes from him, something like a sigh that's darkened at the edges, not quite a moan. something sharper. any other time keith wouldn't hesitate to shove his fingers as far as they can go down shiro's throat; from experience, he knows how deep he can go before a gag reflex kicks in. he settles for a slow pace, rolling the pads of his fingers languidly along the length of shiro's tongue, teases the back of his throat in mindful imitation of what he wants to do to the team's ever-steadfast leader.
(sometimes he fantasizes about situations that won't fly in polite conversation - piloting the red lion while shiro's spend dries between his thighs, sending shiro off to a diplomatic meeting while his own come dries on his face, riding roughshod on shiro's ass while he's on the comms line with allura.)
(sometimes he wants to bite down hard on shiro's skin and leave a scar behind, and it terrifies him - shiro's biggest scars are are in the hands of the galra. keith's supposed to be different.)
his hips rock against shiro's fingers, impatient. ]
What did I say about your hands, Shiro?
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They haven't come to that point before, though, so Shiro does what he can to stifle his mind's non-stop concerns and focuses everything on Keith: the Keith in front of him, not the one in his head where the worst of his thoughts crawl up, inky and dark and drag him down, too. ]
Did you want me to get you out with my teeth?
[ Cheekily, letting Keith's cock loose from its confines, and while Keith's fingers are in his mouth it really comes out more of a Thid thoo-- but the point gets across. Either way, he slides off of Keith's fingers with a wet kiss to the tip and then settles his hands into his lap obediently, shifting enough that he can press lazy, sweet kisses along the line of his hips, nose into the trail of hair leading down to his cock. He spends a little time just -- well, another person might call it teasing, but he thinks of it as worshiping what he's got, mouthing kisses across the weight of him until finally, finally, he lets his tongue loll out and swipes it across the tip of him, gently working Keith into his mouth.
This part, he loves. He's always loved going down on his partners, whichever kind of equipment they might have. He loves going down on Keith, though - loves that they know how to work with each other so well in everything. Loves that he can part his lips and tilt his head back and start working him to full hardness with soft, wet noises, breathing in and smelling, tasting him, watching Keith through the fringe of his hair. ]
i had to edit my dialogue huffs
[ it's not a new one, either. they've both had their share of instances where they got as close to the edge as they could possibly get without irreparably hurting one another. keith's certainly nowhere near had his fill of shiro's teeth leaving marks on all of his softest parts. he loves the bites and scratches shiro leaves behind; the aches they leave behind remind him of shiro's presence, that he's alive, that he's within reach, never mind well and and in one piece.
keith takes what he can get. he'll take an inch of gentleness and a mile of bruising if that's what it takes to keep shiro close.
the care with which shiro pays attention to him will never stop driving the air out of keith's lungs. just like now - the soft noises, the light attentions of shiro's tongue on him, the slow lave of his tongue on keith's length. it's almost unbearable, sometimes - it feels like an unraveling, like being pulled apart mask by mask until keith is laid bare in every possible way.
no one else makes keith feel so vulnerable. no one else is allowed to.
he lets shiro have his way for a little more, before his patience starts to fray. keith tests shiro's readiness, carding through the white fringe sweetly as he rolls his hips in tight circles into the heat of shiro's mouth. shiro is good, more than good at giving head - any other time, this would be enough. but this isn't any other time; they have a countdown running in their heads, ever-present even though it's muted in the background for now. ]
Breathe, [ he orders shiro, drawing his knee up to rest on the mattress - it's leverage. one hand comes down on shiro's shoulders, squeezes in warning if the tightening grip on the back of shiro's head isn't enough. keith pulls back, rests the head of his length on the flat of shiro's tongue, thrusts back hard - does it again, and again, and again, watching shiro's face as he does. ]
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[ He manages it only when he's got Keith's cock resting just at the tip of his tongue, looking up at him for a long moment before he sinks down again, buries Keith's cock in his mouth and God, he could cry with how good it is, how good it feels. No one else can undo him so fast, so hard, so easily, but he doesn't want anyone else to undo him. Keith's perfect, even if he doesn't say it enough, even if Keith doesn't let himself hear it enough.
Keith might like taking him apart but Shiro loves it just as much. Loves knowing that he's aware of every single little hot spot on his body, loves knowing which order to touch him in, what little things build him up the fastest. He can't use his hands right now but he also doesn't need to, not for this.
Finally -- God, finally, Keith moves into it, rolls his hips in those testing little circles that means he's ramping up to what he really wants to do and Shiro makes a muffled noise around the length half-buried in his mouth, eager. The bed shifts underneath him and he braces himself more fully on it; one hand to his left, the other to his right, his fingers curling lightly around Keith's boot, the ankle of it to press and hold. They're thick enough he won't worry about pressing bruises into Keith's skin there, so he doesn't worry about squeezing too hard. No hands, he remembers abruptly, but he doesn't care.
The order doesn't go unnoticed, either. He breathes, obediently, relaxes himself to take whatever it is that Keith's going to give him, when he's going to give it. When he finally pulls back and thrusts home, it's good. It always rides the edge of too much, too hard, but he doesn't care; Keith always knows just how far to take it, just how much he can take. Besides, right now, it's not his job to think about what Keith wants. It's his job to open his mouth and take whatever it is that Keith gives him, to breathe through his nose and swallow around the curve of his dick, eagerly trying to give as good as he's getting. The wet noises of Keith's cock sinking home and the little chk-- each time he bottoms out, fills Shiro's mouth and leaves him shuddering is good: it's overwhelming in the best of ways and his eyelashes flutter shut, trying to work his tongue over Keith each time he's able. ]
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there's not a lot of talking now; for his part, keith doesn't need words when he can just make shiro feel what he wants to communicate. and he communicates it pretty well - words are not keith's favorite means of getting his points across, prefers his body to do the talking for him. he fucks into shiro's mouth in sharp thrusts, and every time shiro swallows him down— keith shuts his eyes in satisfaction, sighs audibly, drags shiro so close to him that he can feel the man's nose against his skin. ]
You're pretty bad at listening, [ he bites out, but it doesn't sound much of a reprimand, what with the undercurrent of fondness threading through it. on the other hand, maybe it'd be better heard if he'd let shiro pull back to breathe - but no. keith keeps shiro down, rocks his hips into the man's throat to take those scant centimeters of space left between them.
it's a three-strike kind of night, and shiro's down by two. it's a "take your pleasure at your own pace" kind of night, too; keith rubs his palms over the shape of shiro's ears for a moment, a momentary respite for the both them. when keith pulls back this time, he pulls away entirely, a thread of spit connecting his cock to shiro's spit-slick lips before it snaps. keith wipes it away from shiro's jaw with the flat of his thumb, draws the digit up to run it along the sharp point of one of shiro's canines.
keith breathes open-mouthed, now. he's fully erect, the length of him a blood-flush color. he takes himself in hand and gives himself a few jerks, runs the head along shiro's mouth, painting the line of it with precome. ]
Last warning, Shiro.
[ he says it like a dare; he can feel the faint smile he's making even as he feels his cheeks heat up from the ridiculousness of the words. all the same, he makes shiro open his mouth, holds him open with a hand to his jaw pinching at the hollow of his cheeks. keith feeds him his cock again, but doesn't take it any further than shallow thrusts; he hits the roof of shiro's mouth, and he lets the head push against the inside of shiro's cheek - if shiro wants anything more than that he'll have to work for it from here on out.
maybe he'll just come on shiro's tongue like this. keith considers it. makes it clear from the way he's quickening his hand on his cock that he's seriously thinking about it. ]
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There's also, of course, the fact that if things don't work, if things don't go according to plan, he could never see Keith again.
Being apart from him was bad enough, once. Being trapped by the Galra, knowing that there was no way he was ever going to get home, no way that he was ever going to figure out how to escape without help in a place full of people either trying to kill him or keep him--
Keith pulls away and it jerks him out of that train of thought, blessedly. His eyes flutter open, not quite sure when he squeezed them shut and the little noise of protest that escapes is barely noted, when Keith's cock slips free from his mouth, spit and precome slick. The hand on his face is grounding, though; Shiro doesn't think twice before leaning into it, letting him thumb over the edge of his canine. This time, he doesn't nip or try to kiss, he just breathes unevenly, watching him like there's nothing else in the world worth looking at. When Keith drags the wet, flushed tip of his cock over Shiro's mouth he tries to mouth after it, licking his lips of the mess and swallowing like it's the best thing he's ever tasted.
Distraction, he needs-- wants, distraction from the fact that right now, he's hyper aware of their own mortality. That they're barely out of the Garrison and he's damaged fucking goods and they're going up against ten thousand years of supremacy with an equally old weapon and some hope. He doesn't need Keith to talk - he's always been good about reading him, but it's entirely intentional this time the way he doesn't use his words, either. He pulls his hands up to Keith's hips and pulls, ignores Keith's hand in the way, forces Keith into his mouth, into his throat until he gags on it and swallows, breathing harshly through his nose as he looks up at Keith and swallows around him, fingers digging bruises into his hips that will bloom later. ]
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a surprised gasp escapes keith, the sound cut off at the last second as he grinds his teeth, hisses through them. the coppery taste of blood tinges through the haze of hot wet heat enveloping his cock; keith had bitten the inside of a cheek, and his senses aren't separating the pain of the bite from the pleasure searing through him.
shiro's hands on him belie strength - look how easily he's dislodged keith's hold on him, how easily he takes keith into him while he holds him steady. keith is well aware of how shiro can just pull him away and throw him down; the danger of possibility is part of the thrill, and it's addicting. much as he's loathe to admit it, shiro came back to him physically stronger than he ever expected, and it's not just because of the arm. ever since the rescue from the garrison's mobile interrogation suite, keith had catalogued the many changes: the scars, the arm, the hair, superficial but irrefutable changes that mark a period in time where keith had thought shiro lost to him forever.
but it's the new breadth of shiro's shoulders, the steeled core of him, that hasn't stopped fascinating keith. it's hard to dislike someone like shiro - the man is endlessly charming, impossible to hate with the sincerity of his enthusiasm in bringing the best out of those who surround him. it's easy to see the appeal of him, too; keith is hardly vain, and neither is he blind to his own looks, but shiro bears a physicality that makes people take a second look, that made the girls in keith's class cross their legs whenever he walked by.
all together, the whole of shiro makes keith want to tear him apart until he's a sobbing mess in his lap. the whole of him makes keith want to set the universe on fire, for ever daring to take him away like it already has everyone else he's cared about before.
he yanks, this time, hard enough that shiro has to feel it, and keith knocks shiro's hands away from him. a push, a shove, practically a knee to the chest - keith sets shiro on his back against the mattress. up, he bites out, until shiro's shoulders hit the top of the bed and keith can hold his head against it. keith traps shiro's arms by kneeling over the crook of the elbows, limiting his mobility temporarily.
there's no hint of gentleness this time. keith braces one arm against the wall, leans his forehead against the back of his hand as he rocks into shiro's mouth and holds, holds him down with his free hand and fucks into him without any hint of slowing down. the coiled heat in him tightens quickly, spiraling up and out until he's panting against the wall.
keith draws back just once, to let shiro breathe. counts out to two, then fucks back in, hitting the back of shiro's throat at every thrust — and then he's coming, without any warning, the tight little circles his hips make the only space he leaves between them. ]
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She doesn't know - he's not that kind. The others want to believe it about them - they know, abstractly, what he's done. It's framed in a way that hides the extremity of it, though, the full breadth and width of his sins. You saved Matt, Pidge whispers into his chest, hugging him tight. You survived, Lance says, shocked and awed. You're here leading us,
telling us how to do it, Hunk says, relieved. None of them understand.
Keith, though. Keith understands. Not fully, but he's seen Shiro almost at his lowest. He's taken Shiro to that point and then built him back up. He's seen the gnarled mass of scars across his back, the lines from knives and claws and teeth. He's seen all of it and he knows what it means. Shiro fought in the arena, Shiro's covered in scars, but he's alive. Somehow, despite everything, like a fucking cockroach he's alive. The others think that his worst fear is being sent back to the Galra again, or dying, but no. It's surviving, when no one else does. Because of a choice he has to make.
Thankfully, Keith grasps it. Maybe not with experience, but he understands what needs done. He yanks hard enough at Shiro's hair that it pulls a strangled gasp from his throat, leaves him blinking away the shocked burn in his eyes as he tries to keep up. It's not the arena - he doesn't fight back, but the kneejerk response is there. His body tenses, coiled like a cornered animal and for a moment he thinks-- but then Keith's slinking up after him, shoving him into the bed, pressing the sharp points of his knees into Shiro's arms. It's Keith. It's Keith, and Shiro trusts him and the softness of the bed shakes all the awful thoughts loose and out of his head. ]
What happened to patience?
[ Shiro bites out before he can stop himself, arms pinned to the elbows so his hands snap in place, grasping at Keith's thighs, his calves, what little they can. It's not good enough, the angle all wrong so his hands twist in the sheets instead and he parts his lips again, accepts everything that he's given with a strangled, harsh groan. His cock hasn't been touched once but he doesn't need it; he thinks he could come like this, being used by Keith, shoved into the bed, mouth pushed open, throat fucked by the length of him. He groans against the hot thickness of him, the noise muffled, wet as Keith sinks in again and spit and precome slide down his chin, messy. When Keith finally comes, there's no warning and it's perfect. It's messy and too much and it spills from the corners of his mouth, but he tries his best to swallow. His eyes are watering from it, but it's perfect. It clears his mind in the way nothing else can and his feet and hands dig into the bed, twisting underneath him with a ragged groan. ]
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they stay like that for a moment - keith, with his hands finding their way back up to shiro's face, cupping his cheeks in a gesture too soft for him to fully parse; shiro, looking blissed out and a little lost in the moment, eyes wet and shining. ]
Didn't say I'd be patient, [ keith huffs against shiro's shoulder, winding down from the high of his orgasm. ] And you didn't listen to me, anyway.
[ keith cuts his teeth on shiro's shoulders, then, keeps one hand on shiro's cheek with his thumb drawing circles on the come-stained skin while his other hand feels its way down his chest. he makes short work of shiro's fly, untucks the man's shirt and rucks it up high, until the hem catches under shiro's armpits. keith moves down on him, biting at the exposed skin, sinking his teeth into the meat of shiro's pecs, stopping just short of drawing blood out - a pity, but now isn't quite the time for it.
when he sits back on his haunches, keith pulls shiro's trousers and pants down along with him. he tugs until shiro gets the idea, until the garments are slipped off, and then - with shiro's legs pushed apart and stretched out on either side of him - slaps the man hard on the back of a thigh. ]
Hand me the lube. Upper left corner of the bed, your left.
[ shiro's cock is proud and leaking, hanging heavy between his thighs. keith squeezes the head without any trace of niceness. ]
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Finally, the pressure's released off his arms and Keith starts to adjust, cups his hands to Shiro's cheeks and he can't help but lean into it, pressing a kiss to one palm first and then the other, letting himself breathe now that he has a chance to actually catch his breath. ]
Didn't ask you to be patient. [ Hands free, he strokes a hand through Keith's hair, loving the little things - the way sweat makes it curl at his temple, the way Keith looks at him post-orgasm, letting himself come down from the high of it. ] I listen sometimes.
[ The press of teeth into his shoulder is enough to punch another eager, throaty little noise out of him, hips bucking up. There's no way for him to do anything about it, though, because if he tries he knows that his hands will be stopped. Besides, just the pressure of it - the sharp jolt of pain is enough to get his dick twitching all over again, precome beading at the head.
When Keith gets more impatient, he goes pliant- for once, he doesn't try to make things complicated. Instead, he shifts, wiggles to help the shirt up and breathes out a sigh at the second bite, knowing it's going to bruise. Knowing it's going to rub against the armor and it's going to feel so good knowing Keith did that to him.
Down go his pants, too, and he kicks them off, parting his thighs as instructed. It takes some creative stretching to grab for the lube but he manages to fumble for it, hand fumbling it when Keith's hand squeezes at his dick mercilessly. It's good - it's so good, the flash of pain sparking white-hot down his back and he arches, breath hitching on the pleased end of a yes, please--.
The lube gets shoved at him and Shiro tries again to touch him, sliding his hands up Keith's front, trying to drag him into a kiss. ]
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[ there's a flicker of wicked humor tucked away somewhere in keith's quick reply, even as he's gently pulling shiro's hands away from him. his only concession is kissing the tips of shiro's fingers on both hands, kissing both galra metal and human skin as he places each hand on the mattress. ]
Later, [ he promises. he buries his face against shiro's sternum, kissing over where the heart beats heavily under flesh and healed-over scars. ] Take whatever you want later.
[ he frames his words like a command, even if the color of the words edge closer to a request; fondness can't help but seep in, just as keith's own neediness makes him suck on the bite mark in his mouth just to use the sting of it as an anchor.
keith takes in the view presented before him, of this man who owns every inch of him if only he'd make the claim. shiro spread wanton before him is the single most beautiful, most breathtaking sight keith has ever set his eyes on, cliche as it sounds — has it really been a year? two years, since shiro gravitated into the orbit of keith's life and became his sun?
it feels like a lifetime. like a restart on his personal history; a life before shiro, and a life that began with him in it.
the click of the bottle cap twisting open is loud to keith's ears;. he strokes shiro's length a handful of times just to draw the precome out, gathering what he can of it into his palm to spread down shiro's length, licking a clean stripe off his palm when he pulls his hand away. the lubricant is cool on his fingers, always is at the start; keith brushes soft kisses on the top of shiro's thighs as he warms his fingers up first.
he loves this part. he loves doing this, more to the point; it's an intimate thing, to ply someone open with one's fingers, to be trusted with someone else's pleasure while they lie prone, splayed out in their nakedness. keith feels like he can get hard again, and soon; maybe he'll find time to—
later.
one slicked hand takes shiro's length in a loose grip, dragging his fingers in a slow slide. the other slips lower, lower still - keith breaches the ring of muscle without preamble, neither sudden nor gentle but firm in pushing in all the way to the last knuckle. keith doesn't draw his finger back when he pushes the second digit in, nor for the third - it's only when he's three fingers deep that he starts curling them up, twisting and scissoring against the push of the muscle before pulling back. he cycles between two speeds - fucking into shiro with his fingers, stopping when he jerks him off in a loose fist, stopping that when he angles his thrusts to find the prostate and knead that bundle of nerves.
when shiro's hips starting rocking up off the sheets, keith leans over, switches his hold on the man's cock to gently pulling his stones down, and takes him in his mouth in a single go. ]
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Shiro's vulnerable like this- it takes a lot for him to get shirtless, to get naked let alone to be so bare in front of someone in the context of sex, but it's Keith. Keith, who he would trust with anything, everything. His life, and the lives of anyone else. Keith, who Shiro loves more than anyone else. When he's told later, he reclines back into the pillow and stretches his arms to the headboard a moment, swallowing hard. It'd be foolish to think that he's going to get out of this without some form of punishment, especially now that he has the lube in hand, and after that squeeze to his cock.
No one else gets to see him like this. Pushing Shiro's boundaries but assuring him at the same time, always knowing just where to go, how hard to push. This, he thinks, is a far better spiral for his mind to get caught in: how much he loves Keith, rather than tomorrow.
Patiently, he lets Keith stroke him, minimizing just how much he pushes up into Keith's hand, just to be good, for once. It's still a thrill seeing Keith lick his palm clean like that, though, just like it was when he'd licked into Shiro's mouth after coming there. Swallowing, he licks over his teeth, lifting his hips a little bit to make it easier. He expects the fingers inside him, but he doesn't expect that Keith's going to keep stroking him off even as he works one, then two into him. It's not too fast, it's not impatient but it's brisk, it's a stretch that makes his belly flip with the rush of heat. Swallowing hard, he twists his hands into the sheets in an attempt to obey and then starts talking, voice rough, fucked-out. ]
I want to suck you off before the mission tomorrow. In the morning. I want to still be tasting you when we -- shit, Keith-
[ Three fingers in and it's good, God, it's good but it's edging the line between not enough and just right. He jerks, shudders underneath Keith's fingers and when they finally speed up, when it's hard and ripping ragged, throaty noises out of him, that's when he thinks, yes, making punched out little ah, ah, ah sounds every time his fingers go knuckle deep, grazing over his prostate. He tries to ride his hand as best as possible, but then Keith moves again and he should know by now that it's Keith, nothing should shock him, but he slides down and swallows around him. ]
Oh-- oh, Keith, I can't, I can't, I'm sorry I'm --
[ He didn't ask, he didn't make sure it was okay but orgasm slams into him like a fucking star going supernova, white-hot and overwhelming and Shiro twists, jerks in the sheets as Keith fucks into him with his fingers and tugs at his balls, surrounds his cock with wet-hot heat. Maybe, it's a little bit of the fact that he didn't ask, combined with his hands grappling, grabbing for Keith's hair, pulling as he fucks up into his mouth with an apologetic little noise riding it out.
It's too much -- he notices what he's done only after the fact, clenched hard around Keith's fingers, pulsing around them and the last few pulses of his orgasm into Keith's mouth until he's pressing his cheek into the pillows, panting. ]
I-- give me a second.
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it must seem morbid; it seems so even to himself, in truth. but as keith looks up at shiro - as he watches the color rise high on the man's cheeks, watches it spread down to his neck and chest - he can't help but hum around the cock in mouth. he can feel himself getting hard again, not the urgent sort of burn from before but in slow waves that crash over him. keith shifts, works his mouth this way and that, finding an angle with the least resistance so he can take shiro's considerable length even further in. he can feel the shape of him pressing against the walls of his throat - and keith can't help himself, he lets his eyes fall shut and he whimpers from how good it feels to have shiro inside him like this.
he wants— fuck, he wants to—
shiro starts ramble on, gasping apologies like a litany, and it's all the warning keith needs to pull back and catch the first streaks of come on his tongue. it's a matter of timing after that, and keith has gotten very good at timing - he swallows down in time with every twitch, catching every spill in perfect tandem with his fingers rolling over shiro's prostate. by the time shiro's coming up empty, keith is laving pettishly over the slit, running the tip of tongue over the sensitive glans.
shiro asks, and so sweetly too, for a moment of reprieve. ]
Mm, [ keith tries, coughing against the inside of shiro's thigh to clear his throat. his fingers have yet to slow down in their insistent press against the older man. ] No.
[ shiro's length lies flaccid against keith's cheek, and he slips it back in his mouth, playing with the head like hard candy on the tongue. it might as well be; keith can't get enough of the taste of him. ]
You can handle it.
[ this time, when his fingers move inside shiro again, keith edges in a fourth finger - slowly pushes in with his fingers curved towards his palm, resting the knuckle of his thumb against the rim. he's not going to fist shiro tonight; it's part of the limits, after all, that shiro has to be able to sit still long enough to pilot in the morning. but the insinuation of it should be statement enough. keith running the flat of his thumb along shiro's taint, pressing down where his fingers are pressing in on the other side, should be enough. ]
You can fuck yourself on my fingers like this, can't you, Shiro? [ keith folds an arm across shiro's hips, leans his weight on it so shiro can't roll his hips up. like this, shiro's cock is left with nothing to fuck against but air. maybe a patch of skin on keith's forearm, if he angles it right. maybe he'll even bump against keith's chin if he's feeling nice about it. ] You can come like this. You'll do it for me.
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Already, he's a little less tense at the state of things; Keith withdraws from where he's bent over Shiro's cock, lips spitslick and shining, still pressed between Shiro's legs. He should've known, though; there wasn't any punishment for what happened, yet. Shiro'd been mouthy, but he hadn't paid for it and when Keith's fingers don't do anything but keep moving he starts to get an idea of exactly what's about to happen. ]
Oh. Keith--
[ It almost sounds like a protest, but they both know he can take it. Whatever the Galra did to him, he recovers faster. It's one of the reasons he doesn't need as much sleep. Whatever it is they've done means that Keith can roll him through from one orgasm to the next. It's not pleasant in the typical sense, of course; it rides the knife-sharp edge of too much, too painful and pleasurable beyond all reason but of course they're used to playing that line. Of course Keith's going to go this route.
He feels the fourth finger press at the slickness of his hole, feels it push in and it drags a ragged, jerky noise out of him as he twists on the sheets and very nearly whines through it. It's so much -- God, it's so much and Keith knows it, is doing it intentionally judging by the way that thumb pushes as his taint like a threat and a promise all in one. The second orgasm isn't ever that bad necessarily. The third, and fourth, that's where things get to be too much and he's not sure if they're going to get to that point, but a part of him is thrilled to consider it.
Keith's talking to him, though, and he needs, he needs to focus, needs to nail down his thoughts enough to track what's happening. --can't you, Keith asks and Shiro breathes out an unsteady noise, arm lifting to throw it over his eyes. The problem with this is that it gets harder (ha, he thinks weakly) to come every time. He tries to be good, tries to brace his feet into the bed and roll his hips down against Keith's fingers but with the arm holding him down, his cock doesn't have anything to push against and his hips can't roll up. If Keith's going to work him over like this, there's not much regret he feels in reaching a hand down, petting it through Keith's hair as he tries to fuck himself on the harsh stretch of Keith's fingers, gasping. Back to back, it doesn't take long like this, like a roller coaster where he drops off the big hill and the second follows too quickly. It rolls through him with a few more targeted strokes of Keith's fingers and the ache of his cock, come spilling from the flushed tip with each push of Keith's fingers. Shiro writhes underneath him, toes curling so hard they threaten to cramp, fingers clenching in Keith's hair before he forgets himself. Keith-- he manages and it sounds like it's fucking ripped out of him, breathing fast and shallow where he's got his face half-mashed in the pillow he's resting on. Every jerk of his hips drags his cock tantalizingly close to Keith's arm, to his chin, but it's not quite close enough. It doesn't matter; whatever the Galra did to him makes this too easy for orgasms to chain together, though he doesn't think that was really their intent. ]
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shiro's coming a second time just bare minutes after the first, striping keith's jaw with come hard enough to paint a few streaks across the bridge of his nose, and all keith could think of as the man gasps for air against the pillows under him is: god, i love him.
not that keith's ever been the religious type. if he ever believed in church, then his god is right here, spread out and undone by keith's own fingers, incandescent in the crash of sensations as his second orgasm overtakes him, held at a knife's edge with the harsh allure of a third. keith's own pulse roars loud in his ears, and he's certain that he's hard again - he can feel the rough press of his fly against his dick, the uncomfortable stick of dried comes and spit on his skin.
he pulls out of shiro with a soft wet sound, taking his fingers from shiro's ass one at a time before ducking low and laving wetly from the rim of the muscle up to shiro's balls. was he this sweet before? keith doesn't remember if shiro's always tasted so good to him on his tongue before he left for the kerberos mission. he definitely wasn't this sensitive, definitely not quick to come; loathe as he is to admit it, keith is grateful to the galra for this one thing.
shiro's shaking under him; these little tremors run up and down his thighs and keith finally relents, moving his weight off shiro's hips and leaning back on his calves. both hands - both stained in lubricant, left tacky - trace the line of shiro's limbs, attempting to soothe him as keith takes in the whole sight of the man. his own breathing has run ragged, his fringe is sticking to his forehead, his shirt sticking to his back. ]
I'm right here, I've got you, [ keith reassures him, even as he's stripping off his own shirt, using it to wipe his hands somewhat clean. ] You're doing really good.
[ his trousers and pants come off next, and keith gives himself a few strokes as he hovers over shiro. he hasn't cleaned the come still on his face; keith doesn't care that it's there, but when he wipes it off with the back of his hand and looks at the mess of it, he wonders if shiro's always come this much, and this thickly.
he catches shiro looking up at him, and keith matches his gaze as cleans off the mess on his hand. keeps his eyes pinned on the flush of shiro's cheeks as he picks up the lube and squeezes a generous amount on his palm before taking himself in hand with it. ]
Knees up or face down, Shiro. Pick one.
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Then again, what were the odds? Five of them meeting all at the same time. Finding that castle. Being together, being the ones to pilot. For all he knew, it was fate. Magic, maybe, that drew them together. Nothing seemed impossible, these days, not with the Galra, with aliens, with the fact that magic, of a sort, existed.
That, of course, makes that tiny little part of Shiro that's helplessly a romantic, hopelessly in love with Keith, wonder if they were meant to be together as much as anyone could be. How else did you explain being caught together and separated, over and over again. He was caught in Keith's gravitational pull, swung in every so often and it was a relief, more than anything else.
He can't move for a long moment, once he's finally let himself relax from the tension orgasm pushed through him, but he watches Keith move. Watches the way he holds himself, sliding off of Shiro, face a mess. The removal of his fingers gets a noise out of him; Shiro's back arches a little despite himself, throat bobbing with a vicious swallow as he feels himself clench around nothing, now, aching to have something filling him back up again. Soon, he knows, so he doesn't complain.
Damp fingers run down the line of his legs and Shiro drops his arm to his side heavily from where it'd been half covering his eyes, his face, and takes in the sight of him. It's nothing he hasn't seen before, but he's still greedy for it, like a man in the desert finally presented with water. ]
I know. You always do.
[ The praise doesn't go amiss, either. Shiro doesn't quite bask in it but he gives Keith a look, eyes lidded, arching his back almost languidly as he stretches out formerly tense muscles and prepares for whatever comes next. Keith's hard again and while his mouth waters at the idea of swallowing him down again, he knows this is headed somewhere else.
Finally, God, finally Keith's pulling off his pants, and that's a sight, Shiro's come on his face, his cock flushed and hard between his thighs, his fingers still slick from where they'd been buried inside him, shining in the dim lighting of the room. Better, is when the lube comes back out and he slicks his palm with it, strokes it over his cock. I could've taken care of that for you, Shiro almost points out; he's open enough, slick enough that he probably could've taken it but he'd also been the one to ask to make sure he could sit the next day. It's the responsible choice to make, so he instead pushes himself up and scoots closer, drops an arm around Keith's shoulders and presses a lingering kiss to his jaw, the corner of his lips, dropping a hand down to touch Keith's cock, letting his fingers skim over the slickness of it.
Either sounds good; with his face buried in the pillow, he can keep himself stifled because he has a feeling Keith's going to break every bit of that wound-tight self control he has, like he always does. On the other hand, Keith bending him in half and digging bruises into his thighs, pushing his knees up to his ears and making him take it is also appealing. That's not a decision he cares to make, because both sound so good it doesn't matter. ]
What do you want?
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he doesn't want a future where shiro isn't there. as far as keith is concerned, there isn't a point to any of this if he can't save the one person who matters the most to him.
(he doesn't know how soon he'll have to prove that. hindsight is a cursed thing.) ]
I want you to ride me until you're too sore to remember you have to pilot in the morning. [ honesty; not always the best policy, but keith is the worst liar he knows. ] I want you to fuck me and fill me up with your come until I can't hold it in me, and I want you to eat me out after that, spit it all back into my mouth and make me swallow it while you choke me on your cock.
[ keith is nowhere near shiro's size, but he hitches the man high on his lap all the same, fucking up to shiro's hands in tight circles, getting lube everywhere he can. god, he's so slick like this; he'll slide right in without any resistance like this.
he reaches up with one hand and pinches one of shiro's nipples until it's an angry red, twists it until he's sure it hurts. ]
I wanna come all over your face, all over these, [ keith sighs as shiro palms the head of his cock in a rough downstroke; keith runs his own palms over shiro's chests, running the flat of his palms over the perked up nubs, slicking them up too. ]
Right now though, I just want to fuck you until you can't think anymore.
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fucking italics
hehehe
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