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Then I Don't Wanna Be Right

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“Blow out your candles, Keith, and make a wish!” Heath said, beaming down at his youngest son. Today was Keith’s fifth birthday, and his family and entire pre-k class were gathered around him in their back yard, eagerly awaiting his wish so they could finally dig into the cake. Last year it had taken several minutes to make up his mind, but this year he knew exactly what he wanted. More than anything in the world, he wanted…

He inhaled, puffed out his pudgy little chipmunk cheeks, and blew out the candles with conviction.

“When I grow up,” he declared, “I’m gonna marry ‘Kashi.” He’d never been more certain of anything in his short life. The adults, for their part, laughed and cooed over the innocent misunderstanding, and the other kids broke into fits of giggles because, silly, siblings can’t do that!

Shiro ruffled Keith’s hair affectionately and smiled down at him. “I love you, too, kiddo, but I think you’ll have to fight Adam for the right. I-I mean, not that I’m- we’re- I just meant-“ he spluttered, setting off a chorus of “Adam and Shiro, sittin in a tree! K-I-S-S-I-N-G!”

Heath rescued his eldest with a call for cake, the moment quickly forgotten, but Keith stared at his slice with the chunky wax 5 and furrowed his brow. He loved his brother more than anyone, more than Papa, more than Adam even! And anyway, it was his wish on his birthday, so it had to come true, right?


Life after the fire that took their father from them had been a challenge, to put it mildly. Their mother had left when Shiro was ten years old, mere months after she had given birth to Keith. She herself had no family to speak of, and while Heath’s parents had taken the boys in with open arms, they were very old and both passed away only a few years after their own son. The only thing that kept Shiro and Keith from the foster system was that Shiro was already eighteen and could therefore legally raise Keith himself.

It didn’t take long for Adam to leave the picture, either. They had initially tried to make things work long distance when Adam left for college, but Shiro was busy and perpetually exhausted, and Adam cut it off, complaining that Shiro never had time for him anymore, and that he “hadn’t signed on for raising a child anyway.” It wasn’t easy, being fresh out of high school and without much of a support system, but their grandparents had left them the house and a small inheritance to keep them afloat while Shiro job-hunted and accumulated a meager savings for Keith’s future. Life had dealt him a shitty hand, and he’d be damned if he let Keith struggle half as much as he was right now.

If they had been close before, they were impossibly closer now. The hard years of having only one another to rely on had cemented a bond beyond anything either of them understood at the time. Shiro had been Keith’s everything- his brother, his provider, his teacher, his confident, his best friend. And Keith had been the thing that gave purpose to Shiro’s life. He was always there to greet him when he got home, to cheer him up and make him feel appreciated when he was at his lowest and burnt out. It wasn’t uncommon for Keith to wind up in Shiro’s bed during particularly difficult nights, when Shiro felt empty and lonely, or when Keith awoke from nightmares about fires, or when they simply needed the other’s presence to stave off the feelings of grief and have that simple reminder that no matter what happened, no matter what bullshit came their way, they always had each other.

The thing was, now a teenager, Keith was beginning to realize some things about himself. First, he was… different. He wasn’t really sure if he was gay, per se. He definitely had zero interest in girls. And sure, there were a boys he had found objectively attractive, but being nice to look at did nothing to stir any romantic or sexual interest. Once, when he was fifteen, he had clumsily kissed Ryan Kinkade under the bleachers at a football game, but he’d felt nothing, and it left him with an unidentifiable longing for something else. Unidentifiable until he’d gone to bed that night and dreamed of soft full lips on his, and of his name dripping from them in a familiar voice sweet as honey, swore he could feel big warm hands holding his face as they drew him back in for more. Keith woke with a start, sweaty and panting and… messy. What the fuck?

“Keith?” That same voice, deep and raspy with sleep. Saying his name. Fuck. “Nightmares again?” He reached for Keith’s hand blindly and gave it a soft squeeze when he found it.

“Y-yeah.” Keith squeaked. Grateful for the cover of darkness to hide his blush, Keith withdrew his hand and wiggled his way out of bed. “I’m gonna, uh, I gotta go pee?”

Shiro murmured something in reply, already asleep again. Keith shuffled back to his room for a clean pair of boxers and locked himself in the bathroom, staring at his reflection in shame. He had a fucking wet dream about Shiro. FUCK.


Keith is seventeen now, a junior. He doesn’t really have any friends, it’s hard for him to form deep and lasting relationships after so much loss and abandonment. But everyone knows he and Takashi are close. Suspiciously close. Shiro is his usual self, kind and warm and gracious, but never crossing the line of what’s appropriate or not. But Keith doesn’t even realize the way he looks at Shiro, the way his voice turns soft and reverent when he talks about him. He’s done his best to squash his more-than-brotherly love for Shiro down, but time has only made his affection grow. But things should be okay, he thinks, so long as he doesn’t act on them.

Keith doesn’t really mind his solitude, truly. If only he could shake James Griffin. James has always been a bit aggro and confrontational, but since Keith turned him down last year he’s resorted to outright bullying and harassment. Keith has weathered it silently and done his best to ignore James and behave. He doesn’t want to make it Shiro’s problem.

Except Shiro sort of is the problem. Griffin takes things too far one day by implying that Keith is so far up his big brother’s ass that they must be fucking. Regardless of whether Keith has fantasized about Shiro’s ass and/or fucking, it’s none of Griffin’s goddamn business. It’s one thing to drag Keith, but he should have fucking kept Shiro’s name out of his mouth. Keith sees red and is on James in the blink of an eye. By the time a teacher intervenes and pulls Keith off him James is sporting a split lip and a black eye.

They’re dragged to the principle’s office, and Keith doesn’t even get the benefit of “I don’t care who started it, you’re both in trouble.” No, James is innocent and has friends to claim witness to Keith antagonizing him. So Griffin gets sent to the nurse’s office, and Keith gets sent home. The mortification of listening to Principle Iverson’s talk with Shiro on the phone feels even worse than the guilt of jerking off to Shiro when he sleeps alone. Iverson didn’t really have any specifics, and so Shiro would definitely ask Keith what drove him to hit James. What was he supposed to tell him?

“Griffin insinuated I was in love with you and it hit too close to home so I beat him up.” Nope. “Griffin said we were having sex and as awesome as that would be I know you aren’t fucked up like me and I couldn’t let him insult your character like that.” No way. “Griffin is still mad I won’t date him.” Probably true, and maybe enough for most people to just accept it, but Shiro would want details. He knew him too well and would want to know specifically what was said to set Keith off and there wasn’t a way to phrase it, not even a half-truth, that wouldn’t result in the most uncomfortable conversation of his life.

What if just putting the idea out there ruins things between them? What if hearing Griffin’s words makes Shiro look at their interactions through a different lens, makes Keith’s feelings too obvious? He could handle Shiro never returning his feelings, but he would rather die than for Shiro to hate him, to look at him with disgust, to cut him from his life because he was so twisted inside.

It feels like an eternity waiting for Shiro to arrive, and yet he’s there too soon. Keith will never be ready for their impending talk. He can’t even bring himself to look at Shiro when he walks into the front office to collect him.
“Keith.” He sounds so concerned, and all Keith can think is that this may well be the last time Shiro ever treats him with anything other than repulsion, if he acknowledges him at all after today. Keith slowly rises while Shiro signs him out and they walk to the car in silence.

The ride home is short and quiet, but the silence between them looms heavy. Keith appreciates Shiro giving him his space, time to collect his thoughts. He’s always been so endlessly patient with him. He takes advantage of that to make his escape. He needs more time to think, to find a way to explain and evade.

Shiro opens his mouth to speak as he parks, but Keith is already slamming the door and hoofing it towards the house. Shiro calls after him and catches up while Keith fumbles with the key, his hands trembling with nerves. Keith tries to make a beeline for his room, but as soon as the door closes Shiro has a gentle but firm hold on his shoulder.

“Keith, please talk to me. Are you alright? You’re not hurt, are you?”

“I’m not hurt.” Not yet, he thinks wryly.

Shiro guides him to the couch, and Keith follows without a struggle, his resolve to flee already broken down by the love in Shiro’s voice. They sit, and Keith makes a point of sitting on the far end, as far as he can physically get from Shiro.

Keith has never kept Shiro at a distance before, physically or emotionally, and the way it hurts Shiro is written plainly on his face. Keith releases a shaky breath and hugs his knees to his chest.

“I punched Griffin.”

“I know.”

“He-“ Ugh. “He always fucks with me, and I was sick of it.”

Shiro’s expression briefly flashes from hurt to anger, but he quickly schools himself and asks, “Why didn’t you say anything before?”

“You have enough to worry about already. I didn’t want to add another burden to your load.”

“I worry about you anyway, Keith, and you’ll never be a burden. You’re my brother. I love you.” Not the way I love you, though. It stings. “It’s my job to worry about you.”

Keith shrugs and looks away. He feels like he’s going to cry as the inevitable approaches.

“There’s more, isn’t there? You know you can tell me anything.”

He feels Shiro’s weight shift closer, and his couch cushion dips as Shiro reaches an arm over his shoulder to pull him into a side hug. Keith gives a wet laugh and can’t help but lean into it a little, savoring his warmth, his smell, the faint thrum of his heartbeat beneath his ear. He’s so lost. Lost on Shiro. Lost in general. Keith is a mess. Against his will the tears roll down his face. “I love you, Takashi.” He says it like a prayer. In a way it is. Please love me back, even if it’s not the same. Just love me enough not to leave me. Please don’t abandon me.

“I love you, too, Keith.”

Keith shakes his head. “No.”


“No, Kashi, I LOVE you.”

“I don’t-“

“Griffin accused me of being in love with you. He said we were-“ he has to swallow a few times before he can get the words out. “He said we were probably fucking, and it really got to me. He didn’t just insult me, Shiro. He insulted you! After everything you’ve done! And that shit is serious! I couldn’t let him get away with it!”

“Oh Keith, I’m so sorry. That’s- that’s a really messed up thing to say to anyone.”

“No kidding! What if a teacher heard and took it seriously? Thought you were abusing me or something?” He couldn’t stand the thought of people believing his brother capable of taking advantage of another person. His sweet, generous, perfect Takashi. He trembled with anger at the thought.

Shiro hugged him closer. “Keith it’s okay. You know I would never do that to you, and I’m sure they know, too. We’ll be okay.”

Keith choked back a sob and pulled away to wipe his nose on his sleeve.
“What if I wanted you to?”

Shiro tenses, stunned.

And this is it. Keith finally admitted what he wants aloud, and James motherfucking Griffin was the catalyst. Jesus-tapdancing-Christ. And now he’s sitting here, dread growing by the second as he waits for Shiro to come back to reality to disown him. Better Shiro himself than some social worker.

“Oh shit, Keith, I’m sorry.”


“God, Keith. I- I really fucked up.” Shiro sounds absolutely broken. He pulls away, his eyes brimming with tears, and he buries his face in his hands to hide.

“Takashi, what? No! You haven’t done anything. I’m the one who’s messed up! I’m the one in love with you! You can’t blame yourself for this when you’ve done everything right. I’m just- I’m wrong!”

Shiro raises his head to meet Keith’s eyes and grabs both his hands. “Keith, no. I’m your older brother. It was my job to raise you and take care of you. I should’ve- I don’t know, I should have done better.”

Keith shook his head frantically. “Kashi-“

“I should have pushed you to spend more time with other kids, or- or encouraged you to stick with soccer in middle school, god we should’ve stopped sharing a bed when you were, like, twelve.” He releases a humorless laugh and pushes back his bangs. “I just wanted to support you and be there for you, but I let things go too far. I didn’t even realize it was happening until it was too late, but by then I couldn’t give you up. I just wanted to keep you close, but I never meant to- to manipulate you like that. I didn’t even realize…” Shiro is crying now, stricken with grief over what he think’s he’s done to Keith. “I was selfish. Keith, I’m so so sorry.”

And Keith, his stupid one-track-mind, all he can think is he loves me back.

“How long?” Keith whispers. “When did you know?”

Shiro’s crying quiets to sniffles as he takes a moment compose himself. He’s moderately successful. “A couple years ago, when you told me about kissing that guy at school,” Shiro admits reluctantly. “I got… jealous. I felt possessive, and I wrote it off as just being protective, but then that night… you were having a dream. A, uh, a really good one, apparently. About the kiss, I guess.” He blushes and rubs the back of his head self-consciously. “You were whimpering and making these noises and, um. God. I- I got really turned on. And that’s when I realized it wasn’t just, erm, what I thought it was. Initially.”

The silence stretches between them for what feels like an eternity, Shiro full of guilt and Keith too shocked to think of an appropriate response.

Finally, Shiro stammers, “Please. Please say something.”

“I dreamed about you.”


“I kissed Ryan and I didn’t feel anything. But that night I dreamed about you. I was so scared you’d find out. I was scared you’d hate me, that you’d-“

Shiro’s mouth is on his suddenly and Keith’s mind goes blank to everything but the sensation of soft lips and warm hands and the vibration of Shiro’s groan against him. It’s not like the dream. This is desperate, frantic, graceless, raw. It’s so much better.

And just like that Shiro pulls away, and Keith whines in protest. Shiro’s hands remain cupping his face, thumbs tracing gentle paths over his cheeks. Shiro just looks at him for a moment, eyes dark and full of want, but also doubt. His question is quiet, like he’s afraid to ask. “Are you sure you want this?” Want me, he means.

“Well I wanted to marry you,” Keith says, and his heart feels full to bursting as Shiro smiles in recognition, “but I’ll take what I can get.” And how can Shiro do anything but oblige?

They lean back in and their next kiss is languid, they can finally take their time and learn one another. Shiro’s mouth feels like heaven against Keith’s and Keith is positive that nothing could be better than this singular moment. He sighs into it, knows he’s exactly where he belongs, and easily opens up to Shiro when he runs his tongue over his bottom lip. He doesn’t really know what he’s doing, has no experience beyond his brief and lackluster foray at the football game, but it doesn’t matter. Kissing Shiro feels so right, it’s innate, and if he’s doing badly then Shiro doesn’t seem to mind. He’s downright enthusiastic.

Shiro wraps his arms around Keith’s middle to pull him onto his lap. How many times had Keith daydreamed about those powerful arms drawing him in, holding him down, pinning his wrists, grabbing his thighs to hoist him up effortlessly? Heat pools low in Keith’s belly and he’s already getting hard, grinds down to find that Shiro is, too. He gasps at the delicious friction and it hits him that yes, this is actually happening. He’s really here, in Shiro’s arms, on his lap, and Shiro is peppering him with little pecks from the sensitive skin below his ear, down his jaw, his neck- oh, he REALLY likes that.

He does feel a little selfish, but he doesn’t know what to do with his hands other than burry them in the longer bits of Shiro’s hair and pant like he ran a marathon while Shiro works him over gently. He wants it rougher, wants Shiro to bite him, to suckle little marks of ownership where he can look at them later and remember this, and he must have said some of this out loud because Shiro huffs out a small laugh and says, “Don’t want to give James any ammunition, do you?” And that smug dork has the audacity to wink.

“Really, Takashi?” He aims for exasperated, but his expression lands somewhere closer to fond.

“Also,” he continues, more serious, “I, uh, don’t want to take it too far? Or overwhelm you. Y’know, since this is- I mean I’m assuming? You usually tell me everything, but you don’t HAVE to, and some things are really personal and…”

“What are you- oh.” That. Keith’s face heats. “No, um, I haven’t, uh done that yet. It was just one kiss. You’re… I’ve never wanted anyone else. You’d be my first.”

Shiro buries his face in Keith’s neck and groans.
“You like that, Kashi?”

Shiro nods but continues to hide in Keith’s hair. His sudden bashfulness feeds Keith’s own bravery. “You like knowing your baby brother saved himself for you? That I dreamed about having you like this, that when I slept in my room or you were gone at work I’d think of you while I touched myself, opened myself up on my fingers and imagined it was yours?” He leans away slightly and reaches behind himself to bring one of Shiro’s hands between them and lines their palms up. “Your hands are so big, Kashi, just one of your fingers would be like two of mine, easy.”

Shiro bites his lip and whines. “Fuck, Keith, where the hell did you learn to talk like that?”

“I’m feeling inspired,” he grins cheekily.

“I didn’t teach you that.”

“Hmmm no, but I can think of some things you could teach me.”

Shiro laces their fingers and practically purrs, voice deep with arousal, “What do you wanna know, Sweetheart?” Ooooh, Keith likes that, too.

“Teach me how to be good for you.” He rubs his free hand up Shiro’s chest, silently cursing the thin barrier of cotton that lies between him and the gorgeous muscle underneath. “I’m a blank slate. I can be whatever you need.”

“You already are.” He’s so sweet and sincere, even when Keith is trying to talk dirty. Typical Shiro.

Keith reaches down to tug at the hem of Shiro’s jeans, just above where the older man has already become erect, and his mouth waters at the thought of getting Shiro’s cock in his hands. Because he’s allowed to. No more sneaking glances at the obvious bulge in his briefs or trying to distract himself from the massive dickprint in Shiro’s sweat when they’re lounging in front of the TV. He can just reach down and take it now, and that revelation is dizzying.

But Shiro grabs his wrist and stop him. “Not yet. This is your first time. It’s gonna be about you.”


“Ah-ah. Listen to your elders.”

“Jesus Christ, Shiro.”

“C’mon, brat.” Shiro smirks and in one swift motion is standing, holding Keith up with a firm grip on his ass.

“Yessss,” Keith hisses, and Shiro just snorts as he carries him to the master bedroom.

They share more kisses that gradually become needier as Shiro hauls Keith into the bedroom and lays him out on the bed, settling between his legs.

“Shirt. Off.” Keith manages between kisses, and Shiro rises up to obey. Then he stays there, gazing down at Keith with an intensity he’d never dared to hope would be directed at him. The quiet lingers between them not uncomfortably, no sound but the faint clack of the ceiling fan and their heavy breathing, and in that moment Keith thinks Shiro looks ethereal, hard muscle and dark body hair illuminated by the backlight of soft natural light filtering in through the curtains. He’s so, so beautiful.

“You’re absolutely sure this is what you want? This isn’t something you can undo, Keith.”

“I know.” Keith licks his lips and returns Shiro’s stare. “You?”

“Yeah,” Shiro breathes.

“Then less talking, more fucking.”

Shiro makes a hungry noise and runs his hands under Keith’s shirt to push it up and off, leaving a trail of kisses along his stomach and chest as he goes. “You’re so gorgeous, Keith. Wanted to do this for so long.” Keith shivers and his nipples pebble. Shiro stops just a hair away from one of the buds and looks up, lets his breath ghost over it. Keith shivers again and whines impatiently, making Shiro grin before flicking his tongue and closing his lips around it.

“Fuck!” Keith raises his back off the bed to somehow get closer, more, something. Shiro hums approvingly and moves to the other and bites gently, one hand rubbing over Keith’s side soothingly, the other trailing downward to palm Keith through his pants. “God, T-Takashi.” It’s so good, embarrassingly good, and Keith feels like he could come already just from this, and that’s absolutely unacceptable.

“Stop!” he gasps, struggling in a futile effort to sink deeper into the mattress to escape. “I’m gonna- I don’t wanna come yet.” It’s humiliating to admit.

Shiro stops and his eyes widen. “Wait, really?”

Keith looks away and grumbles something unintelligible. “Keith, look at me. Sweetheart, you don’t have to be embarrassed. That’s totally normal. You’ve never done anything like this before, you’re bound to be really sensitive.” He places a light kiss on Keith’s nose. “I know how it is. I was a teenage boy once, y’know.”

“Don’t say stuff like that when I’m trying to seduce you.”

“Now,” Shiro leans in close and murmurs in his ear, “is that any way to speak to your big brother?”

Holy shit, why is that so hot?

“S-shut up. I want you to be naked.”

“Brat,” Shiro chuckles. He stands to undress, and Keith leans up on his elbows to watch. All of Shiro is a work of art he’s dedicated his life to admiring, but it feels like he’s really seeing him for the first time. Shiro stands patiently, a little self-conscious, but clearly enjoying Keith’s attention which inevitably comes to rest on Shiro’s hard dick, huge even between his thick thighs. “Everything you hoped it would be?”

Keith tries to find the words to express just how perfect he is, but all he manages is a raspy, “Wow.”

“Glad you approve.” Shiro crawls back to Keith and tugs at his pants. “Your turn.”

Keith gulps as Shiro pops the button, undoes the zipper, and pulls them down at an agonizing pace.

Keith’s boxers go with them and then they’re both bare. Shiro’s eyes are hungry as they rake over his body, and that alone is enough to make Keith’s dick twitch. That gets Shiro’s attention and he makes an appreciative sound before ordering Keith to scoot up to the top of the bed. He nudges Keith’s legs apart and takes him in his hand, strokes light and teasing and he considers how he wants to continue.

It takes everything Keith has not to collapse back into the pillows. “If you do what I think you’re going to do, I’m not gonna last.”

“You don’t think you have more than one in you?”

“I- it’s just…”

“If you’re not ready, we can stop now. Or later, if you change your mind. At any point just say so and it stops. I’ll never do anything you don’t want, Keith.”

“I do. I am. Ready. I just don’t want to disappoint you.”

“You couldn’t.” And Keith knows it’s true.

Keith gulps and gives a small nod of permission.

"I've been dying to know how you taste," Shiro breaths before licking up Keith's shaft and laying a sweet kiss to his head.

If Keith thought Shiro was beautiful standing naked before him, he’s a vision between his legs. Shiro groans and his eyes flutter shut as he sinks down Keith’s dick, as if he’s the one being pleasured. His mouth is warm and hot and wet around him and Keith feels like he’s melting. His hands fly to Shiro’s hair and he bucks up once involuntarily and he knows it’s too late. “K-Kashi, I’m sorry. I can’t. I’m- I’m-“ Shiro grips Keith’s hips and buries his nose against coarse dark hair as Keith cries and spills down his throat. Shiro sucks him through his orgasm until Keith, oversensitive, bats him away. He stays between his legs, kisses Keith’s thighs and rubs gentle circles into his hips with his thumbs while his boy comes down. “You okay, Baby?”

Keith manages something like “guh” and weakly tugs Shiro up to kiss him.

He can taste himself on Shiro’s tongue and he’s surprised at how much he likes it. They stay like that for a while, making out lazily while hands map out planes of skin. Keith’s hands find Shiro’s ass and give it a firm squeeze.

“Keeeith.” Shiro drags himself along Keith’s length and fuck that thing needs to be inside him yesterday.

“Yes, Takashi. Want you.”

“Yeah. Yeah, okay.” He reaches over to the nightstand and fumbles in the drawer for a moment before finding his prize and popping the lid. “How many fingers can you take?”

Keith wants to lie, doesn’t want Shiro to think he can’t take him, but he’d figure it out anyway as soon as his fingers were inside him so he begrudgingly answers, “Usually just one, sometimes two if I’m not in a hurry.”

“Hmmmmm.” Shiro looks like he’s about to pour the lube on his fingers, but surprises Keith by taking his hand and placing the bottle in it instead. “Why don’t you show me?”

“Shit.” Keith’s hands tremble as he dribbles the lube onto his fingers then reaches down to find his hole. The initial press is a little difficult but the first digit breaches and once it’s in it doesn’t take much to slide the rest in. He’s finding it hard to relax with an audience, but Shiro rubs his thighs and whispers encouragement while looking at him like he’s never been more proud in his life, and it isn’t long before Keith adds another finger. He didn’t know being watched could be so hot, and Shiro’s praise fills him with a fire he’s never felt before. He’d do anything for more of it.

He goes for a third finger, but the angle is awkward, and he’s getting impatient. He wants Shiro, and Shiro must sense his frustration because he’s lubing up his own hand and pressing a finger of his own in beside Keith’s. “So good, Keith. You’re amazing. You can relax now. Let me take it from here.” Keith removes his own fingers and whines at the loss, but they’re immediately replaced and Shiro now has two fingers moving inside him. He swears at the stretch and his breathing gets ragged. He’s never been this full before, and Shiro’s fingers are so big, but it’s everything he ever wanted and he relishes the burn. “Let me know if it hurts. I promised I’d make you feel good, we can take as long as you need.”

“M-more, please. Please, fuck me, Takashi!” Shiro adds a third fingers and Keith starts to cry. “Soon Keith. You’re almost there.”

Four fingers and an eternity later Keith feels like he's about to implode. Shiro has him stretched beyond what he thought possible and rubbing over the bundle of nerves he’s never managed to reach himself. “You’re so pretty, Keith. Look at how you take my fingers, like you made for this. God I can’t wait to be inside of you.” Keith can’t manage words anymore and just nods.

It feels like it’s been an eternity, but Shiro is finally removing his fingers and Keith cries with renewed intensity as he feels the tip of Shiro’s cock press at his rim.

For a brief moment he’s lucid enough to be grateful that Shiro spent so much time working him open first because FUCK it shouldn’t even be possible to fit something that huge to fit inside him, but all coherent thought leaves him again as the head pushes inside.

Fucking Shiro is a religious experience. He starts slow, small gradual slides, pushing just a little further with each thrust, and all Keith can do is cling to his back and wail as he’s overwhelmed with a flood of sensation and emotion he wasn’t prepared for. It’s like he didn’t even realize he was incomplete until this one final piece fell into place. Shiro looms big and warm over him, his arms bracketed on either side of Keith’s head, containing him and making him feel small and safe. He rests his forehead against Keith’s and whispers his love for him, how good he is, he’s so tight, he’s so perfect, he’s his good boy, he makes him so happy, wants to make him happy too. Every sweet word and cant of his brother’s hips makes Keith ascend until he reaches his limit and releases between them.

He feels Shiro begin to pull out and hooks his ankles behind him to hold him close.

“No,” he gasps. “Please. Inside me.”

“Hnnng.” Shiro stays put and surprises Keith by draping his legs over his shoulders to bend him in half, allowing himself to sink in deeper.

“God, Takashi, yes!” Keith cries as he picks up his pace. “More. H-harder! Fuck! I l-love you, Kashi! Fuck! So much! T-takas-shi!”

With one final grunt Shiro pushes himself flush against Keith's ass and Keith is flooded with a new warmth. Shiro collapses atop him and they lay there in each other's arms as their labored breathing evens out and their hearts slow, gentle pets replacing thoughts they're too tired to voice.

Eventually Shiro rolls off of him and returns with a damp cloth to clean themselves off, of course taking care of Keith first, who rolls his eyes at him but is grateful because he's already sore. When it's done Shiro climbs back in close beside him and they just smile at each other, dopey with endorphins and affection.

“So…” Shiro smirks. “Better than Kinkade?”

“Oh, fuck you!” Keith laughs.

“Maybe next time.”


“Love you, too.” Adoration stirs in Keith’s heart as Shiro plants a chaste kiss to the corner of his mouth. It also stirs something else.

Keith throws a leg over Shiro to straddle him again and grinds his dick along Shiro’s abs, already hardening again. “What if next time was right now?”

Shiro raises a brow. “I don’t know if my old man libido can keep up with you.” He’s lying, of course. Keith can feel him poking him from behind, and laughs, giddy and lightheaded.

“Come on, Old Timer. You can’t have taught me everything yet.” He smiles down at Shiro and thinks about how this is only the beginning. About the level of trust it takes to share something like this, to cherish one another so wholly when nobody else could possibly understand. He honestly can’t imagine a universe in which he isn’t madly in love with this incredible man, brother or no. After all, how could loving Takashi ever be wrong?