Keith has a thing about working through his heat cycles.
He had a bad habit of ignoring his body’s needs at the best of times, like forgoing sleep and food for extended periods of time in the name of completing whatever mission was at hand. Similarly, Keith treated his heats like a mild inconvenience that he could suppress by sheer force of will.
It was probably born from the unstable environment he grew up in, and never really having a safe space to go through a cycle in a healthy way. From the time Keith first presented in a group home while bunking with five other boys, to fighting an intergalactic war, circumstances allowed very little time for Keith to indulge his biology. For most of his life, he had just popped strong, military-grade suppressants and attempted to ignore his heats altogether.
But now that the war was over and the universe was settling in the aftermath, Shiro wouldn't stand for it. He insisted that Keith take time off for himself and allow his body to experience his heat cycle in a natural, healthy way.
Keith fought him, obviously. It had been difficult to convince him that it was alright to take a break from the responsibility of a leadership position in order to take care of his own needs, but Shiro persisted. It was a hill that he was willing to die on.
So they did what any mated pair does at some point: they compromised.
The compromise they settle on is this: Keith still gets to attend training sessions and maintain his regular schedule with as much normalcy as possible, but when his heat gets unmanageable, he lets Shiro take care of him. Thanks to the specially formulated suppressant that Coran helped develop, Keith’s heats are relatively mild. For the most part he’s usually just tense and horny, but it isn’t so debilitating that he has to hole up in a nest for days at a time.
Still, it isn't the most ideal set up.
Shiro, who prides himself on his control over his alpha instincts, occasionally gets a touch possessive when Keith walks around the Atlas in the middle of his heat, and every alpha on the ship can smell how wet and fertile he is. It’s not about jealousy, though. Not really. No one would dare to challenge Shiro’s claim, not with the mating mark blatant on Keith’s neck, but it sends Shiro a little off the rails knowing that his omega isn't being properly taken care of.
And on days when Keith gets desperate enough to seek Shiro out for help... Those days bring a whole different set of challenges.
Shiro, and everyone else in the vicinity, is significantly less productive when Keith is pumping out pheromones and leaking slick like a faucet. It’s impossible to ignore. Shiro and Keith have accidentally caused a rutting frenzy among groups of young alphas on more than one occasion.
So no, not ideal.
But it gets them both through the long hours until they can get away from duties for some private time together.
It’s a quarter to eleven, and Shio is seated at the head of the conference table, reviewing for the upcoming meeting. He does so only half-heartedly, because he already went over the information the evening prior, and distractedly, because he’s thinking of Keith.
That’s nothing out of the norm, much of Shiro’s time is spent thinking about his mate. Today, however, his musings are a little more specific.
When he woke up this morning, it was to Keith straddling his thigh and rubbing himself against it in his sleep, smelling deliciously sweet, like slick and pre-heat. Shiro had encouraged his rutting, helping him move his hips and murmuring coaxing words that fell on deaf ears until Keith came, waking with a gasp. Shiro had tried to convince him to stay in bed, tried to ply him with breakfast in bed and a curved dildo Keith likes for how it hit his g-spot, but the omega was determined to go about his day as normal.
As per their compromise, Shiro let him. Keith might be grumpy and lethargic today, but it was his decision and Shiro respected it. However, that didn’t mean that he wasn’t already daydreaming about how he would take care of his mate once they were both finished with their duties for the day. If Keith could wait that long.
Like his thoughts alone summoned him, Shiro hears the whoosh of the sliding glass door to the conference room opening, and knows even before he looks up that it’ll be his mate coming inside. Sure enough, Keith is marching over to him, face stormy. His cheeks are flushed in a way that immediately tells Shiro that his heat must be intensifying, and Keith finally gave up attempting to go through the rest of the day without relief.
Shiro couldn’t be happier to see him.
“Hey,” he greets, reaching out to tug Keith’s hand into his and pulling him down for a quick kiss. “Need some help?”
This close, he smells absolutely delicious. The scent of heat is unmistakable. It’s fortunate that Shiro doesn’t have to contribute much to the impending meeting, he’s really there as a formality, because nearly all of Shiro’s energy was immediately diverted to Keith and taking care of him from the second he came in.
“Shut up, Takashi,” Keith grouses, but tucks himself into Shiro’s neck and takes deep breaths of his scent. Shiro tilts his chin for better access and indulges himself by grabbing a handful of his mate’s ass. It’s a great ass, and any time spent without his hands on it is time wasted, in his opinion.
Shiro hears the door hiss open again, and when he looks up it’s with mild surprise to see Lance, and Pidge right behind him. Pidge is unfailingly punctual, but Lance is usually the person skidding into his seat right as meetings start.
“Hey, guys,” he greets. Pidge waves casually and takes a seat further down the long table, but Lance prances right over to them.
“Hey Shiro,” the beta says, addressing the alpha first. Then he turns his attention to Keith. “Mullet, surprised to see you here. Is it that time of the month again?”
Keith is too distracted where he’s mouthing at Shiro’s scent glands to rise to the bait, but Lance isn’t one to let an opportunity pass, and he bulldozes on.
“Remember when Mullet used to pretend to be such a hardass?” Lance asks. “Man, I thought he had a stick up his ass the whole time, but it turns out a stick up his ass was just what he needed.”
Keith growls, but it’s more perfunctory than anything, and doesn’t bother stopping where he’s beginning to suck bruising marks above Shiro’s collar.
“Knotslut,” Lance provides cheerfully.
Shiro knows that Lance’s teasing is all in good fun, but he also knows Keith’s name calling kink, and he has to resist the instinctive growl that bubbles up his throat when he smells the omega’s scent ripen with arousal. He must be soaking into his underwear by now, Shiro thinks. The scent of his slick, combined with the way Keith has started grinding down onto his thigh, has Shiro growing stiff in his pants in return.
Lance knows them well enough to be comfortable with their public intimacies, but also knows not to touch when they’re both so volatile, so in a rare display of consideration, he forgoes his customary slap on the back when he leaves them to claim a seat and bother someone else for the time being.
Other people had begun filtering in around them without Shiro noticing, Matt occupying the space to his left and the MFE pilots chatting amongst themselves opposite Hunk. There are some newer faces too, some recent promotions to officer positions that Shiro hasn’t had the chance to make personal acquaintances with. It’ll be a full room when everyone arrives.
Luckily, Keith isn’t bothered by an audience, and at times even seems to relish in it. It certainly doesn’t stop him from wriggling out of his uniform pants, an impressive feat considering he never entirely leaves Shiro’s lap.
With all of this skin bare, Shiro takes the opportunity to run his hands up Keith’s legs, starting at his knees and moving higher. He pauses at Keith’s inner thighs to run the pads of his fingers over a healing ring of teeth marks from the other night, and then continues dragging slowly upwards until he can cup over his mound. Keith is already visibly wanting, and his pussy is wet enough to soak through the cotton panties he's wearing.
Usually Shiro would enjoy playing with him through the fabric for a few minutes, rubbing at the folds of his labia and riling Keith up in a way that has cost them more than one pair of underwear. But knowing how stubborn Keith is, he must be pretty close to the precipice of a full blown heat wave to seek Shiro out mid-meeting. Teasing like that would be cruel.
Still, Shiro doesn’t bother to take the panties all the way off yet, and instead just pulls them to the side enough that he can fit two metal fingers inside. Keith moans at the contact, his head tipping back to rest on Shiro’s shoulder.
The fingers on Shiro’s Altean hand are obscenely thick, equivalent to almost two of his human ones, and usually Shiro worked Keith up to taking them. But hours of arousal and heat hormones leave Keith loose and sopping wet, so the stretch is minimal when he presses in. So much so that Shiro has to wonder if this is really the first thing Keith had inside of him all day.
“Did you start without me?” He asks, question aimed at Keith but also not bothering to lower his voice enough that others couldn’t hear.
Couples rutting in communal spaces was hardly uncommon on the Atlas, and there probably wasn’t much that Keith and Shiro could do to shock anyone in the room. Though, they learned the hard way that they had to be a little more cautious when there were alien races present, because not all cultures were as accepting of public intercourse as theirs was.
“I tried to get myself off b-before,” Keith admits, rucking up his uniform top enough to get his fingers on his chest. His nipples always get so sensitive around his heat. “Wasn’t— wasn’t enough.”
Shiro hums sympathetically, and presses his fingers in deeper. The artificial nerve receptors in his prosthetic pick up the sensation of a stream of slick running over the back of his hand, and Shiro’s cock twitches in his pants. “Did you try a toy?”
Keith shakes his head jerkily. “Just my fingers.”
“How many did you use?”
“Th-three,” Keith mewls. He squirms on Shiro’s hand.
“And they weren’t enough, huh sweetheart?” Shiro asks. This question is rhetorical, and Keith knows it, so he continues on without waiting for an answer. “Your fingers aren’t long enough to get them where you need it, are they?”
It’s a nice picture to imagine, Keith fucking himself on his fingers. Maybe he had to take a break at the gym, or got too worked up in the middle of combat training. Maybe Keith excused himself to go back to their apartment, writhing around in the sheets that smell like Shiro, or maybe he couldn’t even make it that far. Maybe he just sat himself down wherever he was and touched himself, but after fruitless minutes of being unable to achieve release, had to crawl his way to the conference room to find Shiro.
Keith whimpers, and Shiro decides that he needs a better angle. He pauses momentarily to try to peel off Keith’s underwear, and Keith is immediately distressed when Shiro pulls his fingers out.
“No, no, Shiro, don’t—”
Shiro shushes him. “Hold on just a second, baby. Let’s get you out of these clothes so you’ll be more comfortable.”
Shiro quickly slips the panties down his legs, and Keith takes the opportunity to peel off his shirt so he’s left completely naked. Shiro tugs him back into his lap so that the omega is leaning against his chest, bare skin against his uniform, and pulls Keith’s legs apart until he hooks them over the arms of his chair. Keith is entirely exposed. At this angle, Shiro can tuck down his chin enough to see where Keith’s pussy is red and leaking, slick creamy from where it was churned into froth by Shiro’s rough fingers.
Shiro can smell interest from some of the betas and other alphas in the room, but it’s overwhelmed by the scent of Keith’s sweet slick. Even the Atlas’ state of the art air filtration system can’t hide the pheromone-rich smell of Keith’s rapidly approaching heat.
His omega shifts impatiently in his lap, so Shiro takes the hint and gives him back his fingers. He positions his prosthetic so that it’s floating in front of Keith, palm turned up to the ceiling. It’s a better angle than trying to reach from behind, and Shiro’s Altean arm won’t tire like his flesh hand would. Keith seems satisfied enough with that for the moment, and Shiro turns his attention back to the room at large. All of the seats are occupied, and those present are waiting for his signal to begin.
Shiro lets his hand maintain a steady pace fucking into Keith, angling inwards and upwards in a way he knows Keith likes, and reaches out for his data pad with the other. He quickly unlocks it and taps on the document he had opened earlier for the meeting docket.
“Alright, everyone,” he begins. The room quiets enough that the loudest sound is Keith’s heavy breathing and the squelching noises of Shiro’s fingers within him. “Thank you all for being patient. As you can see, something personal came up.” He motions sublty to where Keith is spread wantonly in his lap, and a few people offer amused chuckles.
“‘Something personal’ is code for his dick,” Lance stage whispers. “His dick came up.”
Shiro pretends not to hear the comment and continues.
“We don’t have too much to get through today, so let’s get started and maybe we can all get out of here in time for lunch. Pidge?” He says, turning his head to where the beta is sitting a little ways down the table, “Why don’t you start us off?”
She nods and flicks at something on her own data pad, throwing a projection up into the center of the conference room and beginning to talk. It’s about a series of planned updates coming out of the R&D department she heads up with her father, and Shiro already read her notes prior to the meeting, so he can allow his attention to wander back to his mate.
Keith’s heavy panting has turned into groans, and he sounds frustrated. Shiro can see his eyebrows knitted together in a grimace from where his head is still resting back on Shiro’s shoulder.
“Doing okay, baby?” He asks quietly. He’s trying to keep his voice down out of respect for Pidge, but he’s not overly concerned about it. She’s been around them for years, and is accustomed to their inability to keep their hands off each other.
Keith opens his eyes to meet Shiro’s, but his gaze is slightly unfocused. “Need your knot,” he says simply. It’s probably quite a feat that he managed that much, considering how out of it he is.
Shiro kisses over the mating mark on his neck placatingly. “Why don’t you come on my fingers, just once, and I’ll see what I can do?”
Keith doesn’t seem overly pleased by that idea, but he bucks his hips up to meet Shiro's hand without complaint. Shiro slips in a third metal finger, a reward for good behavior, and Keith groans appreciatively, letting one of his own hands fall from his chest down to the seam of his cunt.
“That’s right. Touch yourself for me,” Shiro encourages. Keith obeys, rubbing over his clit with increasingly frenetic strokes, and keeps his other hand at his chest where his nipples look red and raw from incessant fondling.
Keith’s cunt is so hot inside, clenching hungrily like he needs more, like his body knows that Shiro’s fingers aren’t what he really needs, not going to sate the heat the way a knot will. He can’t wait to get inside of him and do just that. Shiro places his data pad back down on the table and lets his newly freed hand grasp Keith’s thigh and hold it open.
The subtle shift seems to be doing wonders for him, and the omega’s low moans pick up in pitch and volume.
“Shiro, I might, think ‘m gonna—” Keith can’t get out a full sentence, and the obscene sounds of Shiro’s fingers reaming open his pussy are growing wetter by the second.
With little warning, Keith’s muscles lock up, his mouth drops open silently, and his spine arches sharply. Then, he starts squirting around Shiro’s fingers.
“Fuck, fuck fuck!” Keith cries.
He expels so much fluid that Shiro can hear the background lull of conversation in the meeting fade as people turn to watch. Keith is gorgeous in the throes of his climax, and Shiro is happy to help him through it, keeping his fingers focused on his g-spot and fucking in roughly to encourage the spray of slick. The volume is so much that there are puddles forming on the table in front of them, and Shiro’s dress slacks are ruined.
When Keith is finally coming down, quivering dramatically, Shiro slow his movements, and then stops altogether. An exasperated noise from his left makes Shiro glance over.
Matt is shuffling around papers he had laying on the table, pages now sopping and ruined because of Keith’s messy orgasm.
“Really, Keith?” Matt says, disgruntled.
Keith peels his eyes open to see where he soaked Matt’s materials, and he apparently still retains enough of his faculties to be embarrassed about it.
“Sorry,” he slurs. “It’s a rough one.”
Matt sighs and accepts it.
“This wouldn’t happen if you would just go digital like the rest of us,” Pidge insists, looking wholly unsympathetic at her brother’s misfortune. She shakes her own data bad pointedly. “Waterproof.”
“And when the next inevitable crisis hits and all of your servers go down? Who’ll have backup then?” Matt argues back. “That’s right, me.”
“Alright kids, enough fighting,” Shiro says. Those two will go at it all day if they aren’t stopped. “Back to work.”
With that, the meeting resumes, and Shiro lets Keith sit on his still fingers and recover for a few minutes. But before long, he’s squirming minutely, a sure sign that he’s getting ramped up for another round.
“Shirooo,” he whines. His voice definitely has a petulant edge to it this time. “Need you to fuck me.”
“Okay, baby, hang on,” Shiro says. He pulls his fingers out, and has to take a moment to swallow down the saliva that pools in his mouth at the sight of goopy strings of omega slick connecting his prosthetic to the flushed folds of Keith’s cunt. He rubs his fingers together in wonderment, just to feel the consistency. Keith’s slick is always a little bit stickier, a little bit sweeter during his heats. Shiro would love to get his mouth on him, taste his wetness right from the source, but that’s not what Keith needs right now.
He pats at the omega’s hip with his clean hand. “I need you to stand up for a second, honey.”
Keith does so, on excessively shaky legs, and the omega has to lean his weight forward on the conference table to support himself. Shiro admires the way he’s bent over for a moment; briefly considers what it would be like to flip Keith over onto his back and fuck him until he’s screaming.
Keith kicks back at him, impatient, and it shakes Shiro out of his fantasy enough to quickly undo his pants.
Shiro’s erection has been trapped painfully in his uniform for what must be close to forty minutes now; he’s been hard pretty much since Keith walked in the door. His pleasure is secondary to Keith’s, but it’s still an immense relief when he’s able to unzip and pull his cock out. Shiro can’t resist giving himself a few indulgent strokes. Shiro’s dick is leaking substantial amounts of precum from his slit, but the residual wetness from Keith’s last orgasm on his palm makes the slide of his fist go even smoother. Shiro lets himself relish in the touch of his own hand just enough to get worked up.
He does it partially for the relief against his aching dick, but also perhaps because he’s an impressive size, even for an alpha, and it makes him feel good to remind everyone of that. He would win any pissing contest with any alpha on this whole ship, and he wants them to know it. Out of the corner of his eye he sees an omega, a newer addition to their ranks, staring openly at him. Normally, this wouldn’t be an issue, but Keith is notoriously possessive during his heats.
Keith must notice the other omega’s fixation too, because he snaps at the girl and she quickly averts her eyes and goes as white as Matt’s damp papers. Seconds later, she excuses herself from the meeting, and when she leaves she goes smelling of shameful arousal.
Shiro should reprimand him, Keith knows better than to be jealous. But Shiro also knows that his omega’s heat is clouding his judgement and makes him perceive even the slightest interest from others as a threat. Also, he's always kind of enjoyed Keith’s possessive streak.
With the girl gone from the room, Keith’s fierceness is fading quickly in favor of hormone-fueled desperation. His knuckles are white where he’s gripping the edge of the table, and Keith’s legs are spread just enough that Shiro can track a bead of slick dripping slowly from the folds of his cunt onto the floor.
Shiro can’t wait any longer.
He uses one hand to hold onto Keith’s waist, and with the other Shiro angles his cock until the head is notched against Keith’s hole. Keith wastes no time, and sinks back onto him.
“Shiro,” he breathes.
He’s so wet. Keith feels incredible around him, and Shiro wonders why they don’t do this more often. All meetings should be conducted with Keith warming his cock.
The slide is wet and easy, Keith still a little loose from where he had taken Shiro’s fingers, and with one smooth motion he’s balls deep within his omega. Keith heaves a tremulous sigh that sounds like relief, and then leans further onto the table, deepening the arch of his back. Shiro lets him take the lead, and just holds onto his waist lightly as Keith rocks back and forth, slow and steady.
Keith keeps the pace slow and steady for a while, seeming to enjoy the fullness. A few minutes later he changes tactics and pulls off of Shiro’s dick, just a few inches, only to drop back down, hard. The omega repeats the motion, and in the brief seconds that Keith lets him withdraw a little further, Shiro admires the way his cock is glistening with copious amounts of slick. Keith continues to impale himself, keeping a remarkably steady pace for being so deep in a heat wave, and making the prettiest little ah, ah, ah, noises each time he fucks back onto Shiro’s dick.
With each motion, Shiro gets a little deeper, until the head of his cock hits something inside of Keith. The surface is firmer than the silky heat of his walls, and by the way the omega jerks and wails, Shiro knows it was his cervix.
This is what finally breaks his measured tempo, and Keith begins losing his rhythm in a pitiful attempt to recreate the sensation. He starts making sobbing noises that, in equal measure, tug on Shiro’s heartstrings and make the base of his cock throb. Shiro wants to postpone his knot for a while longer, make Keith really desperate before he gives it to him.
But he takes pity on the omega when his legs buckle. Shiro pulls Keith away from where he collapsed against the conference table and back against him so that his full weight rests in Shiro’s lap. This way he can hook his elbows beneath Keith’s knees, spread him wide and angle his hips so that Shiro can fuck just that tiny bit deeper. It’s an added bonus the way, the position puts Keith in the perfect position to be shown off.
Some alphas feel the need to cloister their partners away during sex, keeping their mating entirely behind closed doors. Shiro is not one of those alphas.
It was a unique kind of pleasure, being able to show how well he takes care of his omega in the throes of heat, and it satisfied something deeply intrinsic to Shiro’s instincts to let Keith make a mess of himself Shiro’s cock in front of spectators. Particularly other alphas. They can never even dream of satisfying Keith the way Shiro does.
To prove this, Shiro slams their hips together, spearing into Keith’s cervix with bruising impact. He knows Keith is going to be sore once the heat hormones stop interfering with his pain receptors, but that doesn’t discourage Shiro in the moment. He wants Keith to feel it, wants him to ache with the phantom fullness of his cock for days.
He fucks him like this, deep and brutal, until Keith is digging his nails into Shiro’s forearms and begging to come again.
“Please!” Keith sobs. “Alpha, please.”
Shiro stops thrusting. He fucks in deep, until the head of his dick is directly against the roof of Keith’s cunt, and then grinds his hips up in a tight circle.
It’s enough to send the omega over the edge.
Keith’s cunt contracts like he’s about to squirt again, but the girth of Shiro’s cock wedged inside of him prevents a dramatic spray like earlier. He’s spread so wide that his pussy doesn’t have the give to squirt properly, so instead he just leaks rivulets of slick. Shiro can feel trails of wetness stream down to his balls, and that’s what finally makes his knot start to swell in earnest.
“Fuck, Keith,” he groans. “My perfect omega.”
Keith is convulsing, hard, and Shiro’s hindbrain hopes that the others in the room are looking. Hopes they’re watching the way Keith loses his mind when Shiro gives it to him so well.
Shiro growls, pins his human forearm arm across Keith’s abdomen to hold him in place, and grinds in as deep as possible as his knot starts to inflate.
The knot swells quickly, thanks to the saturation of heat pheromones Keith has been spilling into the air. Shiro pulls out one last time before it grows too big, and thrusts back in with all of the force he can muster.
Shiro’s coming almost as soon as he’s fully locked inside, Keith’s inner muscles milking him desperately. Being able to knot his mate is something like euphoria.
He’s blinking stars out of his eyes when he starts to come back to himself.
Usually this is where Shiro would back off, give Keith time to recover and settle down some. But having his omega come to him in the middle of the day for relief, splaying himself in front of their friends and coworkers so they all know how badly he needs Shiro’s knot, has Shiro feeling a little on edge even in pleasant wash of a post-orgasm haze. So instead of slowing down, he puts his fingers on Keith’s fat clit, pressing firmly.
“Want you to come again on my knot,” he tells him.
Keith gets a little frantic at this, his fingers scrabbling at Shiro’s wrist in an attempt to get him to let up, but Shiro isn’t deterred. His knot is too big to allow much movement, so Shiro lets his whole hand fly over Keith’s clit, so fast it’s a blur. He rubs Keith right through the end of his first orgasm until he’s tumbling helplessly into another.
Keith doesn’t squirt this time, his body doesn’t even try, but his cries are loud enough that Shiro feels the need to stick his fingers in his mouth to stifle the sounds. No one at the meeting is paying attention to official business anymore with the way Keith was caterwauling, but Shiro feels like maybe he should at least make an effort to pretend that he cares about interrupting someone’s presentation.
When the peak of it is over, Keith still trembling, sobbing, but no longer howling like a banshee, Shiro finally draws his hand away from the omega’s clit. Keith has quieted down enough that Shiro lets his other hand fall from where it had been muffling his noises. Keith’s head falls back against his shoulder and Shiro can see tear tracks running down his cheeks. Fucked stupid is a really good look on him.
One of the newly promoted officers looks at them, shocked, and maybe impressed. His eyes are flicking back and forth between where Shiro is pumping his omega full of come, and to Keith’s face, features slack in pleasure and eyes rolled back into his head. He must be a beta, because Shiro can’t detect any of the musky arousal or envy he expects from other alphas when they see Shiro and Keith being intimate for the first time.
“Is he still coming?” the newbie asks, disbelief coloring his tone.
Hunk answers so Shiro doesn’t have to. Which is fortunate, because most of Shiro’s brainpower is currently hyperfocused on where his omega is pulsing in rhythmic clenches around his knot.
“Yeah, crazy right? This one time Shiro’s knot was right on his g-spot, and I swear he was coming for like, fifteen minutes straight.”
Shiro groans at the memory. That had been unbelievable. Neither of them were able to walk for a while after.
Without Shiro’s arms supporting them, Keith’s legs hang open limply. He’s dazed from the chemical cocktail of knotting, the instant rush of dopamine and serotonin that every omega is hit with after a satiated heat wave. Every few seconds, a muscle will jump in a spasm and make them twitch from the residual shocks of pleasure, but Keith is otherwise entirely still.
Shiro should probably let him be, just luxuriate in the feeling of being inside of his mate, but somehow even being knotted inside isn’t enough. He’s greedy, and he wants to be closer.
After three intense orgasms, Shiro will have to handle Keith carefully. He doesn’t want to overstimulate him, at least not too badly.
Shiro traces around where he’s stuffed inside, feeling the way the lips of Keith’s pussy are stretched tight, and gathers Keith’s slick on his fingers enough to wet them. Artificial lubricant has come a long way, but there really was nothing like an omega’s natural fluids.
He gives Keith’s clit one final tweak, just to feel the way his hips jerk weakly, and then trails down to his omega’s asshole. He circles around the tight pucker a few times, spreading wetness, before easing the tip of his index finger inside. Keith gives a little gasp, but settles quickly.
Keith loves being stuffed full, and Shiro loves giving it to him. Sometimes, when he was patient enough to stretch him out beforehand, he would put a plug in Keith’s ass to keep him full while Shiro fucked his cunt. Being in the conference room he didn’t have any immediate access to a toy, so his fingers would have to do. It wasn’t much of a hardship, Keith relished any chance to get something of Shiro inside of him, and the extra stimulation made the omega’s pussy milk his knot with deep, satisfying contractions.
As Shiro pushes his finger in to the second knuckle; Keith makes another whimpering noise, and Shiro soothes him by running his free hand over Keith’s stomach. He imagines he can feel the slightest bulge in his abdomen, where Keith is full of Shiro’s cock and come. That thought alone makes his dick twitch and blurt out another load of thick semen. Keith will be dripping when the knot disengages, and Shiro wants him to leave a trail of their shared fluids as he stumbles back to their rooms.
His happy, filthy post-knotting musings are rudely interrupted when James Griffin pipes up.
“Is that really necessary?” he asks testily. The younger alpha looks agitated. “He’s already got a knot in him, and you’re just making him noisy again.”
Shiro manages to beat down the desire to snarl at him, but it’s a near thing.
“I’ll take care of my omega how I best see fit, officer.” He emphasizes the pilot’s rank to remind him who’s really in charge here, and fucks his finger in all the way, making Keith whimper, just to prove a point. “If you have a problem with that, you’re free to hand in your resignation at any time.”
James yields immediately, mumbling “yes, sir,” under his breath and looking down at the table. Griffin is usually not the type to speak out against his superiors, part of what makes him a dutiful soldier, and Shiro spares enough attention to look at him for a second more. Shiro can see James is squirming slightly in his seat; and it dawns on him that his outburst was probably less a product of annoyance at Keith disrupting the meeting, and more from where he can’t control his own problem in his pants. Shiro softens just a little. He understands all too well what it’s like to have difficulty focusing because of Keith, and Shiro doesn’t maintain respect among his subordinates by running his ship on a policy of double standards.
“Griffin,” he calls out. The young pilot meets his eyes, looking chastised. “No one will judge if you need to take the edge off.” Shiro tips his chin and raises his eyebrows pointedly at the tent in the MFE pilot’s slacks. “I think Keith would be flattered.”
James flounders for a moment, and then seems to deflate a little. “Thank you, sir,” he says, and immediately unzips his uniform pants to pull out his cock and get a hand on himself, eyes riveted on Keith. Several others in the room seem to take it as permission and follow suit, moans of relief ringing out. It’s a feeling Shiro can sympathize with.
That outburst resolved, he regains the attention of the room, returns to the next item on their docket, and nudges a second finger at Keith’s rear entrance. The fit was a little tighter, but his omega still opens so beautifully for him, and Shiro curls his fingers in appreciation.
Keith is making little whimpering sounds again. He’s usually pretty noisy in bed, but his heats can leave him too overcome for coreherency, and sometimes the omega goes entirely nonverbal in the aftermath of an intense orgasm.
Keith probably won’t need to come again before the meeting wraps up. Shiro is looking forward to getting him back to their apartments, where he can lay Keith out in their nest and eat him out, clean him of his come only to fill him again.
Shiro should really try to pay attention to whoever is speaking now, but it’s difficult to focus on inconsequential things like ensuring the safety and upkeep of interplanetary coalition trade routes when he has Keith milking his knot.
One day, Shiro thinks, when their schedules are less hectic and the universe a little more settled, maybe Keith will go off of his birth control. Shiro will breed him for real, fill him up with his seed until it takes. Keep Keith on his knot until he’s knocked up, and then parade him around for everyone to see when the omega starts to swell with his pups.
But for the time being, he keeps his fingers in a steady pace and bends down so that he can place an open mouthed kiss over his mating scar on Keith’s neck.
Their compromise might not be the perfect solution, but there were upsides. If nothing else, everyone else on the Atlas got to enjoy the show.