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sweet dreams

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“Baby.”

It’s barely a whisper, but it’s husky. Warm breath tickles Keith’s ear. Shiro nuzzles at the soft shell, kisses him just below the lobe.

Keith doesn’t answer; he lies still, so still, under Shiro’s weight, fully relaxed. His only acknowledgement is to open his eyes, briefly, and Shiro catches the gleam in them before they flutter closed.

“Don’t move, sweetheart,” Shiro rumbles, and it’s far more a quiet plea than a command. He’s running his flesh hand down Keith’s naked back, over one of his supple globes. Palm and thumb massage the lean muscle in all the right places, the thick digit slipping into the warm cleft in Keith’s inner thigh to pull soft folds apart.

Keith is conscious, but he doesn’t want control. Not even of his own body. He allows his presence of mind to drift, expand and flow like fog from his skull. Shiro’s chest is warm, full, firm, pressed tight against his back. His hands are on Keith’s body, roaming, powerful… tender. They make him feel safe. They give him a sense of place in the universe, an anchor.

Shiro’s finger slides in, dripping wet with saliva. He kisses the nape of Keith’s neck as he dips it in to the second knuckle and out again. It’s shallow and sweet, preliminary. The first inklings of pleasure seep into the surrounding flesh between Keith’s legs, sensitive lips and clit filling heavier with blood. His even breathing doesn’t waiver; he lies motionless.

Shiro indulges him. The first time they’d done this, he’d been hesitant, shaky, unsure of himself and what it would mean to take such delight in touching someone who lay seemingly unconscious. It was scary to want so badly to greet Keith’s desires with openness, but to know that it meant this kind of trust would come with great responsibility. But once he had gotten over those nagging feelings of guilt – those perceived fears of “violation,” of hurting the person he loved most – they’d uncovered what had begun to feel like a secret garden of pleasures.

Shiro holds his breath out of habit and adds a finger.

Keith doesn’t move, but the faintest sound comes out on an exhale against the pillowcase. Shiro strokes the inside of his dewy canal, slowly, his kiss firm against Keith’s shoulder.

“Shh,” he murmurs, petting fluttering inner walls. “I want to give you sweet dreams, baby. Sleep…”

He fingers Keith’s pussy for a long time. Lazy, slow, on and off. He takes his fingers out for heartbeats at a time, just kissing him all over, everywhere but his lips. Keith nods off for real a few times, floating just under and just above the surface of consciousness, and pleasure radiates from between his thighs.

Shiro is nothing if not patient, feeling Keith getting wetter and wetter, patient fingers squelching gently as they work. He removes them to rub swollen clit in casual circles, fingertips worrying the plump little button.

Keith’s breathing is still deep, but it comes faster now. Though he doesn’t move his limbs of his own volition, the muscles in his ass and thighs twitch as pleasure seeps up into his belly, deep and warm. Lying on his stomach, it’s all too easy for Shiro’s fingers – three of them, now – to find that tantalizing spot on the ceiling of Keith’s cunt, petting rhythmically, agonizingly slow.

“Unh,” Keith moans, so soft it barely leaves his lips. But Shiro hears, and his bionic hand smoothes Keith’s hair back from his face so he can brush his lips against his temple, his cheek, his neck.

“Shh, baby…. God, you’re so wet. Are you having a good dream?” He trails wet kisses down Keith’s back. “You’re so beautiful… I want you to wake up on my cock.”

It’s like a form of hypnosis. Keith is aware of it all, but he can’t move – he doesn’t want to. He offers no resistance as Shiro gently turns him over onto his back. He falls limply against the bed, and Shiro sits up and settles between his thighs, pulls them around his waist. Keith doesn’t assist him, doesn’t move a muscle. He’s under Shiro’s control, totally surrendered, and Shiro moans at the ease of it when he slips his cock head inside.

Keith’s pussy envelops him, hugs him warm and wet, yields to the flushed pink glans of his leaking erection. Condomless, his shaft slides against Keith’s walls with a slick feverishness, and he fucks him with no intention of lasting for long. Keith’s body opens up for him like the gates of a palace to its king; Shiro revels in the way the flesh cleaves to him, the way Keith breathes hard and fast now with his eyes closed and his lips parted, panting, awake and alive and beautiful and laid before his lover like a feast fit for royalty.

“Shiro,” Keith rasps, sleepily. His legs hang loose and tremble around Shiro’s hips as their pleasure builds in tandem.

“Baby,” Shiro gasps, chiseled hips rolling, cock disappearing inside of Keith’s gushing pussy over and over. “Fuck, baby, I’m gonna cum, I’m gonna…”

They gasp together when Shiro blows his load and leans down into his chest, burying his face, slowly grinding to a halt inside of him. Keith still hardly moves, but he kisses Shiro’s forehead where his neck can crane to reach. It’s gentle, still dizzy with sleep and pleasure.

“Love you,” Shiro huffs as he gets his breath back. “I’m gonna take care of you, sweetheart. Close your eyes.”

Keith slips back into his repose with a tiny smile tugging at his lips. Shiro moves down his body, his chin slips between Keith’s thighs to clean up his mess, and Keith comes like the dead brought back to life, gasping for air.