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
Deep in his head, he feels Black uncurl and stretch out massive paws, digging her claws in, like she's claiming him, agreeing. But if something happens, you have to take care of Keith, too. He's made her promise this a thousand and a half times since this started so she doesn't object, but he knows she's possessive. She wants him back, wants only one paladin at a time, wants things to be uncomplicated.
Black isn't who or what he wants to think about right now, though, so he gently shuts the wall up again between them and works to shift with Keith until he can wind himself around Keith with a low, pleased hum, threading one hand through his hair while the other starts jerking him off, listening to him talk. It's much easier to do when he's distracted like this, Keith's hand sliding up his chest, slick. ]
There'll be time for that tomorrow and every day after. [ It's not a promise; it's whispered as a suggestion as he nuzzles a kiss into Keith's cheek, leans in enough to nip at his earlobe and grinds their cocks together, the slickness of it perfect, while Keith's hands slide up. The snap of pain is enough to side track him, though; he makes a punched out little noise and pulls back which just pulls harder at the grip Keith has on his nipple. It's enough that it pulls a strangled little groan from him, over-sensitive from orgasm but still aching for it, for anything Keith wants to give him, anything they're going to share tonight. He doesn't hold back the little noises Keith wrings from him: the little sigh at the slick push of his hands over over-sensitive nipples, the little hum in the back of his throat when he considers what Keith's talking about, when he imagines it. ]
Is that what you want. [ Getting sappy, getting overly sweet right now isn't what either of them are looking for - that's when it's over, when they're both spent and sweaty and lying as close as two people can shy of being actively inside each other. Shiro squeezes his hand around Keith's dick, makes it a tight tunnel for him to fuck through, the wet head of him pushing through the ring his index finger and thumb make and then Shiro drags his thumb in mean little circles over the head of him, leaning in to tug at Keith's bottom lip with his teeth, equal parts mean, teasing, and a little demanding. ] So why are you waiting. You know how wet and open I am just for you, for your cock.
[ He drags his fist over Keith again, holds at the base of him and then sweeps up again until he can squeeze just shy of too tight. ] I want you to fuck me until I can't think, and then I want to get in my armor tomorrow and feel your come leaking out of me.
[ He's not sure he could actually do it. He won't do anything that directly could result in him not being able to pilot at 100% capacity, but that's a thought, isn't it. Getting in his armor and feeling Keith's come slipping out of him. Or, better: they put a plug in him and keep it there, keep him full and he doesn't get to touch himself until Keith says. ]
no subject
keith bites shiro's shoulder, teeth leaving perfect imprints in half-moons on the man's skin. his fingers are gentle on the man's wrist, gentler still when he traces fingertips down to where shiro has him in a firm grip, and keith unfurls each of shiro's fingers until his fist is loosed - shiro's hands are pushed aside, the measure of keith's actions careful and dangerously tender. leading shiro to rise up on his knees takes little direction; he goes easy, as keith falls back on the sheets, finding purchase in digging heels against the mattress.
he guides shiro's galra hand to rest on the bed, but shiro's human hand - that one, he lays flat over his chest, on the left where his heart would be. ]
Like this, [ keith tells him, calmly dragging the sharp of his nails down the top of shiro's thighs just for the welts that rise from the gesture. he repeats it along the inside of shiro's thighs - cuts close to where he's quickly hanging heavy, quickly growing turgid - before sliding hand up thigh and pressing two fingers into shiro.
he guides shiro down onto his cock like this - with one hand on his hip, while the other hand has two fingers hooked inside shiro, forcing him open, fucking into him while his fingers are still inside him, watching the minute changes of expression on shiro's face flicker past like an unchoreographed reel. shiro's voice is the soundtrack, the dips and sighs of his voice in escalation, and all through the wet slide of shiro fucking himself down on keith's cock the only noise keith makes is that of shiro's name. ]
Shiro, [ keith can't help gasp as finally, finally shiro's fully seated on him, hips rolling in impatient little circles, shiro's considerable weight bearing down on him. it's only then that he pulls his fingers away from shiro's hole, patting shiro's belly in praise; good boy. ] Come on.
[ he takes shiro's length in both hands, this time. there's no hesitation in keith's touch, no teasing in the way he's jerking shiro off, practically stripping the slick off him with the tight squeeze of his grip. it's a single-minded handjob, aiming for shiro's release as efficiently as possible. ]
Take what you need. I've got you.
fucking italics
His breath hitches at the flash of pain when Keith's teeth dig into skin, the imprint there something he wishes he could tattoo into his flesh, keeping a piece of Keith with him wherever he goes. The Galra branded him with scars and burns and claws and the marks of that are pressed into his skin but the memories are not. Keith brands him with hot hands, his mouth, the press of teeth but it's what he wants, it's just what he needs, because no one else quite gets him like Keith does.
Gently, he settles in over the long line of him spread out in the bed like a buffet, like an altar to worship at. He's pliant: Keith positions him how he likes, Galra hand curled in the bed, hand pressed light against Keith's chest where he can feel his heart beating like a caught bird in the cage of his ribs.
It takes a moment to settle, Keith's hands guiding him where he wants Shiro to be. The first touch of the wet slide of Keith's cock is almost jarring, moreso than the two fingers he's got buried inside him, but then he pushes and the wet head of him slides in, slick and easy. This is what he wanted. Shiro's head tilts back and he breathes a sigh at the ceiling, sliding down until Keith's in him completely, hips pushing up with what little bit of room he has to drag his cock over the inside of him. A moment he wants to plead, cock still over-sensitive, all his nerves lit up. The gentle pat gets a soft breath in response but then Keith starts tugging at his cock, harsh and tight and God, God, it's too much, it's sensory overload like the first time he got into Black and was aware of everything all at once. ]
Wait -- [ It's a plea, a command all in one but Shiro's body starts moving without him. His thighs flex, muscles cording when they strain to lift him up and then slide him back down, the slickhot drag of Keith's cock inside him ripping another noise from him. Orgasms one and two come easily enough, but anything after that, despite how hard his cock is, how much he wants it, take some effort sometimes. Keith knows how to drag them out of him, knows just the right tightness to hold him at, the right speed and he thinks: it's impossible, but it's not. A few ragged, unsteady rises up and down and orgasm swells, breaks over him. He doesn't have the breath to cry out, but it hurts in the best of ways, come dribbling down Keith's knuckles, balls drawn tight as he forces himself up and down, forces himself to ride through it, clenching, flexing around Keith's cock. ] No, it's too much, Keith--
[ It's not the safeword, though; he knows how to get out of this if it actually gets to be too much. That's the difference between the Galra and Keith - he never had a word to beg mercy with when he was with them. With Keith, one word stops all of it, but he doesn't need that because Keith always knows how much he can take better than Shiro can. He's still hard in Keith's grasp, but it hurts, a white-hot ache that flares through his entire body as he rises up again, clenching tight on the way down and rolls his hips. ]
hehehe
it's only an incongruity on the surface. shiro is a vision brought to life, and that's not just ill-timed poetry from a sex-addled imagination; shiro's cut, his muscles wrought from fighting and physical exertion, not a single dimple or curve earned for the purposes of display. then on the other hand, there's keith: wiry, lean at best, all limbs and rough angles and sand-hewn attitude come to bear, quick to draw and even quicker to fire. yet here they are, in a borrowed room, where shiro's missing refractory period gets frequently tested by keith's patience in bed. ]
You can take a little more, Shiro, [ keith hushes him. his only concession to shiro's ragged breathing and straining thighs is the loosening of his fingers on the man's length; beyond that, he doesn't stop teasing, testing, pushing. ] You've taken more than this before.
[ and shiro has - dangerously, terrifyingly taken more than even keith had thought he'd be willing to, holding steady even when keith's in him up to his wrists, biting on his tongue even when keith is expecting a whispered no after the thirtieth, fortieth, fifthieth lash of a leather belt on the back of his thighs.
keith gets it. he understands that sometimes the best way to completely unpack the complicated weight of saving a galaxy is to get on one's knees and beg to be used as a cumbucket while one's hands are tied up with one's ankles. so he keeps a steady watch for the signs that shiro's tapping out, has to tap out for his own good - that he's still on green, bordering on yellow, never stepping foot into red.
at the same time, he's not going to give shiro any room to think. he's snapping his hips up, rarely erring in his aim at the man's prostate as he fucks into him. keith knows he looks a mess - shiro easily dwarfs him in size, and he's got shiro's spend still drying on him. ]
Just one more for me and I'll take care of the rest for you, yeah? Don't you want that? Come on, Takashi. Do it for me.
no subject
Keith's not like that. Keith watches out for how much is too much and eases him to an end, or gives him enough of a break he can build back up to it. Keith plays him like an instrument, plucking and tugging and working him through one to the next until he's worn out and exhausted in the best of ways. His thighs strain again as he rises, slides down slower this time and savors the sensation of Keith's cock inside him.
Orgasm won't come easily this time and he doesn't chase it, even if Keith's pushing him toward it unerringly. Now, he can think a little more clearly, even if the haze of orgasm and over-stimulation threaten to knock him sideways. Two can play at this, though, and he doesn't want to be the only one getting off on this. Shiro lets himself sink down one more time and flexes around him, hands splaying on Keith's belly, dragging up through the mess of his come until he can thumb over his nipples. He plays with them for a few moments, pinching and plucking and then bends over, licking away the come smeared that high, dragging his teeth over the flushed peak of one even as he rolls his hips into each thrust.
Like this, he's able to control more; if Keith wanted to make requests, he shouldn't have chosen this. Shiro rolls his eyes up to him and spreads his thighs shamelessly, rests the full amount of his weight on Keith's hips and doesn't let him fuck up into him while his mouth is busy. He's too tall to do much like that, so instead he presses a line of bites and kisses up Keith's collarbone, to his throat. ]
I want you to put on your armor tomorrow and feel this.
[ He bites at Keith's earlobe, cock half-hard and fattening slowly between their bellies as Shiro braces over him. ]
Want you to feel me.
[ One hand lifts, cups Keith's cheek and guides him into a kiss. It starts kind, just a soft press of lips, a graze of his teeth over his plush lower one, and then Shiro slides a hand into the hair at the nape and back of Keith's head and pulls, down, hard. It's sharp and a little mean and he smiles into the kiss, thighs flexing as he rises up and fucks back down, lets his groan get swallowed into Keith's mouth and the messy kiss. ]