“Keith, can you give me a hand over here for a sec?”
Shiro’s voice crackling over the open channel gives nothing away, but Keith’s dick reacts right away.
“Uh, sure. On my way.”
The others are trailing out of the hangar. Hunk gives Keith a wave as they’re pulling off their helmets, mentioning something about dinner. Keith agrees— to what, he isn’t quite sure— saying he’ll catch up later. He’s careful not to make any promises.
Is this happening? Really, actually happening?
They’ve been skirting the edge of something for weeks. Something born of relief for having Shiro back, for Shiro being back. The need for touch, to know the other man is real, not some insubstantial dream punctuating the long nightmare of waking life.
He’s seen it plenty of times, a longing and a thirst in Shiro’s storm-gray eyes. Keith knows what it means because he feels it too, has felt it building slowly, the heat between them ready to spark.
But there hasn’t been time to act, or not time enough like they both want. There were distractions, interruptions, emergencies. There was an aborted-almost-kiss mere days ago that left Keith’s heart galloping even more than the klaxon that sent them both running for their gear and their lions.
It’s something, alright. There’s a flood rising beneath their skin and the dam’s about to break.
That’s also kind of the problem: Keith is not halfway across the hangar to the black lion, and he’s not just hard but wet. He can feel the way his shorts start to soak through, the way the wet fabric rubs.
Fucking hell. Here we go again.
Keith lost his virginity at sixteen, and confirmed then what he’d always feared: that most dicks weren’t quite as eager as his. He just… leaks a lot of precum. The unfortunate soul who first broke the news was just a classmate, someone nice enough and frankly horny enough that it seemed like a good idea at the time. As their pants came off, the look of shock— no, horror, definitely horror— on his face was enough to make Keith want to crawl into the nearest garbage chute.
It was, objectively, a lot of pre. Keith had been dealing with the messy fallout of his enthusiastic dick since his earliest wet dreams, an expression that couldn’t be more apt in his case. Keith sucked this guy’s cock with determination, enjoying the feeling, the smell, the taste, and that apparently earned him at least a hand job in turn. To this day, Keith wishes he’d had the guts to walk out, like he didn’t even want it. That would have been a lot more satisfying than watching this kid trying and failing to hide his disgust as he tugged him off.
It turns out humiliation is not one of Keith’s kinks.
It wasn’t the first time Keith felt like he was too much, and nowhere near the last, but those few minutes fucked him up plenty. He’d blown guys since, always rubbing off in his own hand. He’d grind off against a guy’s thigh in semi-public venues, rutting and coming in their clothes. Whatever worked. But Keith wouldn’t risk a repeat performance.
What Keith wanted and what he could get so rarely aligned.
“There you are,” Shiro murmurs as Keith’s footsteps ring through the black lion’s interior. Shiro hovers in the cockpit, helmet discarded and hair perfectly disheveled. He’s discarded more than the helmet, Keith realizes; the upper portions of his armor are stacked against the bulkhead, like he’s working his way down.
“What did you need?” Keith asks, his voice even. He won’t make an ass of himself by assuming, even if Shiro’s smile is devilish.
“Well,” Shiro closes the distance, forcing Keith to tilt his face up to look him in the eyes. “Maybe I wanted some time alone with you.”
Keith feels his throat click as he swallows. His mouth may be dry, but his traitorous cock gives a healthy spurt where it’s trapped in his suit. God almighty.
Shiro must read something in his face, leaning back. “I- is that okay?”
“Yes,” Keith croaks, reaching to comb his fingers up into Shiro’s hair. Soft, so soft to the touch, like he’d always imagined. A thin whine escapes his throat as he pulls Shiro in, finding his lips for the first time.
Shiro groans into the kiss, backing Keith up against the console. Keith relishes the feeling of being hemmed in by Shiro’s massive frame, pulse fluttering as Shiro licks into his mouth. The press of his body and the taste of Shiro’s tongue overwhelms Keith’s senses, his thoughts getting muddier. Shiro has Keith’s chest plate released before the thought fully registers, and his gauntlets too.
“Here, let me,” Keith says, reaching for Shiro’s belt, then the thigh guards. Shiro’s mouth explores Keith’s throat with wet kisses and light nibbles that have Keith’s hips lurching forward for friction, cock leaking. Good thing space suits are kind of impermeable.
The thought zips along his nerves. That is something Keith can use to his advantage, isn’t it? Shiro can touch him all kinds of ways, can use his hands if he wants, without any embarrassing incidents— if Keith can just keep it in his pants.
Shouldn’t be too hard, right?
But Shiro isn’t those other guys, content to make halfhearted overtures of returning the favor, or not, whatever. Shiro isn’t distracted for a second, and Keith loses the last pieces of his armor, too.
Shiro’s hands are huge and so, so welcome, carving down along Keith’s sides thumbs and digging into the sensitive dips at Keith’s hipbones. His breath comes out in a heady rush.
“Keith, fuck,” Shiro breathes, “so hot.”
“Yeah?” Keith teases. “You like me in this suit?”
Shiro huffs a laugh. “I like you in anything. Preferably nothing.”
Rather than panic at the way Keith’s dick lurches at the words, he does what he always has to cope: Keith starts calling the shots.
“Suit stays on,” Keith says, his smirk cocksure and an utter lie as his stomach flips. “I’m sure you can make that work.”
The surprised ‘o’ on Shiro’s lips melts away as his game face flicks on.
“Fuck, Shiro breathes, grip tightening at Keith’s waist. “You minx.”
Keith reaches for the clasp at Shiro’s collar while the other watches him move, letting himself be stripped down and kicking off his boots while Keith’s undersuit is untouched.
He takes several long moments to appreciate Shiro’s body, the shapely muscle, his generous pecs, his hard thighs. Keith is a thigh man, and Shiro’s are the best thighs in the universe. Shiro’s cock is a thirsty sight, heavy and thick and leaking the normal amount, just a drop gathering at the tip.
It gives Keith new resolve. There’s no way he could handle seeing that look of disgust on Shiro’s face— not Shiro. And this really isn’t so bad; there’s something heady and powerful in denying Shiro the same access that he’ll take for himself. From the look in the man’s eyes, he’s game for it. At least for now.
“Come on,” Shiro murmurs, pulling Keith along and into his lap as he settles into the pilot’s seat. Keith straddles Shiro’s hips, all too aware he has the most incredible, most irreplaceable man in the universe, naked between his knees. When they kiss, Keith grinds down.
Keith is thoroughly soaked, the mess of precum making things slip nicely on his end, and Shiro’s eyes are darker than Keith has ever seen. Mutual stimulation feels good and it’s completely new, a kind of freedom he hasn’t felt. Rushed encounters have their appeal, but it’s nothing to tasting Shiro’s lips, panting into each others’ mouths, feeling the tension build to a crest as Keith lets his clothed dick grind Shiro’s body, working him over.
He could come so easily, but Keith wants to spill his load with the taste of Shiro’s come in his mouth. When Keith starts pulling back, Shiro grunts, pleading with his grip.
“I’m gonna take care of you, Shiro,” he says, dropping to his knees. Keith wastes no time licking a sloppy stripe up his shaft, lapping at the pre smeared at the tip. His taste is salty and bright, bursting in Keith’s mouth. Keith’s own cock pulses, ludicrously wet and throbbing.
Shiro is perfect— his sighs, his strong hands in Keith’s hair, his exceptional cock. Keith bobs his head in long, generous strokes, making sloppy noises as he pops off to suckle and tease. He feels, in a way, like he’s been practicing for this day. Keith dives down like he knows exactly what he’s doing, taking the head of Shiro’s dick right into the tight passage of his throat, swallowing around him.
“Fuck,” Shiro moans in shock, “oh fuck!”
His voice, his pleasure, is music to Keith’s ears. Whatever else happens, he’ll always have this. He rocks his hips into his own palm, feeling a little guilty and mostly relieved. Keith can be good for Shiro. He can make him spill just like this, and swallow every drop.
Shiro grabs his bicep urgently. It’s a wordless plea that says everything it needs to: he’s about to come. He doesn’t want to take Keith by surprise. He doesn’t want Keith’s hand, rubbing furiously in his own lap, to have all the fun.
Keith meets his eyes, lips stretched hard around Shiro’s girth. Meeting Shiro’s gaze, he slows his hand but works the man hard with his mouth. Shiro never stood a chance.
As musky sweet come floods his mouth, Keith loses himself in the taste. Shiro makes an inhuman sound, head lolling back. Keith laps up every drop of the man before pulling off with a slick pop.
“C’mere,” Shiro rasps, pulling him up to sit in his lap, swooping in to share the taste on Keith’s tongue.
Shiro’s hand slides up Keith’s thigh, palming him with a lewd groan. Keith tries not to stiffen automatically at the wet-rag touch of his underwear, reminding himself that a literal space suit is definitely non-porous. He wants Shiro to touch him, he does, just- it isn’t that simple in his head.
Keith nods silently, not trusting his voice.
Shiro traces the shape of him, trapped and leaking puddles against his own skin. Shiro explores deliberately, getting a feel for the shape of him before moving his hand in decisive strokes.
Keith pants. He hasn’t allowed anyone’s hands on him, not since that one disastrous time. He’s more than a little desperate for it, and that’s without the sweet, overwhelming knowledge that it’s Shiro. Keith’s pulse quickens, breath so fast, pleasure sparkling through his limbs. He was already so, so close.
“—Come for me, Keith. Let me see you,” Shiro groans, watching his face with something like awe.
Keith collapses into his shoulder as he spills through waves of pleasure, his come joining the wet mess marinating in his shorts. It’s sloppy but it’s also bliss like he’s never known— his body curled against Shiro’s heat in the man’s lap, safe and warm and perfect.
“Keith, fuck,” he sighs, kissing his temple. Shiro’s hand slides languidly in Keith’s lap, like he can’t stop touching. “How many times did you come?” he whispers.
Keith goes rigid. Not possible.
“Wh- what do you mean?”
“That’s a very wet sound,” Shiro says with eyebrows arched. He looks excited, but of course he thinks it’s all come.
Keith forces a laugh. “You got me. I… came, before. Yeah.”
“Nothing to be embarrassed about, Keith,” Shiro finds his lips, breathing his words into the kiss. “I think it’s hot.”
Keith’s gut twists. Coming twice is hot. Coming early could maybe be hot. Weeping a puddle of precum in his excitement doesn’t seem hot, though. It’s just mortifying.
“Is that why the suit?” Shiro asks.
Keith swallows. How in the hell is he going to keep this up? Being with Shiro is everything he’s ever wanted, and he already feels his doom looming.
If Shiro notes the change, he doesn’t say. He presses sweet kisses to Keith’s face, holding him tighter than before.
“Or… you just like flight suits?” Shiro’s tone holds a smile. Keith grabs onto it like a lifeline.
+ + +
Shiro heads to Keith’s room before he can talk himself out of it.
It’s late, but that’s how it is sometimes with Voltron. Shiro lost sight of Keith when he stayed back on the bridge to discuss strategy with Allura. Even then he was determined he’d go find him as soon as he could slip away.
Maybe he should let Keith get some sleep— he knows he must be just as exhausted as Shiro is. Maybe he shouldn’t be selfish. But his pulse is racing at just the thought of touching Keith. He won’t miss a single chance to explore what they’ve started.
That is, so long as that’s what Keith wants, too… and lately Shiro can’t help but question whether he’s read him wrong.
Since their encounter in the lion, there was one other time when Shiro managed to get Keith alone and backed up against the wall. The kissing was hot and hurried, and Shiro wasted no time slipping his hands beneath Keith’s tee. He was wearing his cute midriff jacket that always has Shiro thinking about the span of Keith’s waist, hardly a handful. And fuck, Keith’s skin felt amazing beneath his hands.
Keith’s enthusiasm was clear, until it wasn’t. He went rigid beneath Shiro’s hands. Shiro froze, finding Keith’s eyes. Keith played it off, saying he felt kind of dirty. It’d been a long day, he should clean up. Shiro ached to invite himself over, already picturing having Keith alone in a cramped shower, all to himself. He didn’t say it, though, because Keith’s I’m-okay-grin didn’t reach his eyes.
Things had seemed fine since, in their daily interactions. Keith smiled at him like he hung the moon, like always, making Shiro’s heart soar. His voice always softer when he turned to Shiro, his hands finding Shiro in innocent ways throughout the day. It soothed Shiro’s nerves, really it did, but he’d be lying if he said he wasn’t worried.
Reaching the paladin’s wing, Shiro considers stopping off at his own room but has no reason to. He fears he might lose his nerve, too— talk himself into patience that is actually more avoidance than anything.
He can’t second-guess himself. He’s at Keith’s door, pinging for entry at the panel that he still doesn’t know how to read. He just finds his way by feel.
Sounds of Keith shuffling can be heard through the door, then it slides open.
Shiro’s mouth waters at the sight of Keith, dressed down in his tee and boxers like he’s been in bed. Shiro’s fingers twitch at his sides, aching to touch. The simple, natural smell of him floods Shiro’s nostrils, Keith’s hair slightly damp from a shower earlier in the night. Altean soap is unscented, which is both strange and perfect because Shiro really only wants the scent of Keith as he is, in the flesh.
Keith looks surprised, but by the curve of his mouth it’s not unwelcome.
“Hey,” Shiro breathes, crowding closer in the door frame. “I hope I didn’t wake you?”
“Yeah, right,” Keith scoffs, waving him in. Hard to tell if that’s Keith dragging himself for very relatable insomnia, or dragging Shiro for pretending he wouldn’t be willing to wake him if necessary. He can’t argue with either, so he doesn’t.
“Couldn’t wait to see you,” Shiro says, not bothering to hide. He steps into Keith’s space, tilting his face up to meet him.
Keith makes a sweet, heady little whine in his throat. He kisses like he’s on fire, like he’s desperate to quench it. Shiro’s grip tightens at his back, digging into Keith’s muscles through his tee, soft cotton and humid heat. He feels so fucking good in Shiro’s hands.
Shiro backs them up toward the bed on pure instinct. Their teeth clash, tongues tangling as they go. It’s uncoordinated and fucking perfect. Shiro guides Keith to sit on the edge of the mattress, and Keith’s hands fly to Shiro’s trousers. He has to clamp down on Keith’s hands to get even a word in first.
“My turn,” Shiro says, holding Keith’s wrists and bringing them to his shoulders as he goes to his knees in front of Keith. Keith is tenting his boxers, a sight that has Shiro’s mouth watering enthusiastically.
“It’s not about turns, though,” Keith grumbles. It sounds playful enough, but his eyes are a bit too wide, holding Shiro by the shoulders. Keith bites his lip. “I just really like it, you know? I like… something in my mouth.”
That tracks. Shiro noticed Keith’s oral fixation long before he should have, if he’s really honest with himself. As a cadet, Keith would often have a pen in his mouth, a piece of hard candy, or just a spoon. Shiro started keeping cinnamon drops at his desk and a few in his pocket, as though he didn’t know that was Keith’s favorite. Hearing Keith crinkling one open between his fingers, watching him work the spicy sweet around with his tongue, was definitely a memory Shiro held very privately.
Curious, Shiro palms his cheek, sliding his thumb firmly over Keith’s bottom lip. The boy’s eyes go dark, lips parting in a shaky sigh. Slowly, Shiro slips his thumb into Keith’s mouth.
The effect is immediate— the helpless groan, and a swooning look that he’s seen spread over Keith’s features only that once, when the boy swallowed Shiro’s cock like a fucking champ. He looks like that now as Shiro’s thumb caresses his tongue, pressing down slightly to give Keith that feeling of weight and fullness in his mouth. Keith seals his lips around the digit and sucks, sparking fire through Shiro’s nerves.
Shiro slides his metal grip from Keith’s knee up his bare thigh. He telegraphs his movement, feeling his way into Keith’s lap. His body is strung like a bow, spine arching as Shiro’s thumb slides up the length of him, coming away damp.
“Happy to see me?” Shiro teases.
It’s a mistake. Keith tenses on the spot, which is more than enough for Shiro to draw back his hand as Keith’s mouth pops off of Shiro’s thumb.
They really need to talk about this.
Shiro sits by Keith’s side on the bed, one hand smoothing over Keith’s back and another at his knee. He doesn’t want to stop touching him, so long as Keith still welcomes it… he’s less and less sure he really does.
“Keith, what’s wrong?”
“Nothing’s wrong,” Keith rushes to say. “Just… nerves?”
“Is that all?” Shiro studies the slump of Keith’s shoulders with growing unease. “You- know you can talk to me, right?”
Keith’s a terrible liar, and that’s the guiltiest look Shiro’s ever seen.
“Of course,” Keith swallows.
Shiro doesn’t want to push, never wants to push Keith. But he’ll also never give up on Keith, or let him feel alone. There’s trauma surfacing here, that much is clear enough, and it would be a mistake to let the fear in Keith’s eyes fester. He needs to know Shiro will be right here, no matter what he needs.
“Did you want to… wear the suit again?” Shiro suggests. “We can. If you’d be more comfortable.”
The look that washes over Keith’s face is something Shiro could never describe— shock and wonder, soft and oh-so-sad. How dare he look so devastated as he tries to form a smile.
“—No, Shiro, I… it’s okay. I want this. I trust you.”
Shiro swallows, pride soaring and doing funny things to his still-aching heart. “Good, that’s, um- that’s good,” Shiro licks his lips. He moves slowly, holding Keith’s face in both hands, kissing, breathing him in. It settles Shiro’s nerves a little, feeling how Keith goes breathless just from this.
Shiro takes his time. Keith lifts his arms easily, letting Shiro toss his shirt away and helping Shiro out of his, too. Shiro strips down to his underwear to match. Keith whimpers as Shiro caresses his chest, thumbing over his nipples. Time stretches impossibly as he tips Keith back onto the bed, settling him on his pillows. It’s an absolute dream seeing Keith laid out beneath him, the tangle of his hair fanned out on the pillowcase, his eyes hooded.
The kissing is slow, worshipful. Keith deserves that. Hearing him sigh as Shiro’s mouth works over his throat, his pecs, his ribs. He’s working his way down, feeling Keith’s back arch as he squirms. Then he goes still.
The tension is less of a surprise than Shiro wants to admit, and no small blow to his confidence. But it’s not about Shiro.
“We don’t have to, sweetheart,” Shiro soothes. God, he wants to, but Keith is struggling with demons Shiro doesn’t understand. And if he’s not ready to talk about it, either, then that has to be okay. He can be patient for Keith. “Don’t push yourself.”
It’s the wrong thing to say. Keith buries himself behind his hands, his lips wobbling.
“No, hey,” Shiro coos, heart in his throat. As he adjusts, his thigh brushes Keith’s clothed dick, and it’s wet. The fabric is really, really wet. Keith feels the touch, a mere brush, but it isn’t a flinch that follows but a very desperate moan from behind Keith’s hands.
Shiro’s dick jumps at the sound. He has no idea what’s going on, but he has to find out. Settling along Keith’s side on one elbow, he slides the flat of his palm down Keith’s abs until his hand rests over Keith’s crotch. He’s soaking wet, and still so hard he throbs in Shiro’s hand.
Keith whimpers, the sound caught like he's afraid to breathe.
“It’s okay,” Shiro soothes as he kisses Keith’s chest. “I hope you know I’d never judge you for something like that. You had me really worried,” he huffs, somewhere between a laugh and a sigh of relief.
“It’s not— Shiro,” Keith groans, still muffled. “I didn’t come, okay? I just… I leak a lot. I’m sorry, I know it’s so weird.”
Shiro furrows his brow. “Please look at me, Keith.”
Keith peeks out from behind his hands. He’s beet-red, almost plum in this light, and his eyes are glassy.
“Can I see you?” Shiro asks. “Please.”
“Yeah,” he whispers back. Keith’s voice hardly shakes at all, and that’s some kind of victory.
Slowly, Shiro hooks his fingers into the waistband, working his boxers down to rest at Keith’s thighs. Keith’s cock is glistening with clear slick, totally slathered in it. Even as Shiro watches, his cock leaks a little more, pooling on his abs.
Shiro palms him, hand cupping his balls and then smoothing up over the shape of his shaft to the tip. Keith mewls and his hips jerk up into his hand, seeking his touch. He’s dribbling enthusiastically.
“So you’re just… excited.” Shiro hears the awe in his own voice.
Keith’s blush is fucking gorgeous. It should be illegal. “Y-yeah.”
“I make you that excited?”
“Of course you do, Shiro,” Keith whispers, just this side of exasperated.
Shiro is still confused. “And you… don’t want me to know that?”
Keith’s face pinches in confusion, or maybe concern. “No no, that’s not- it’s just weird, okay? I just,” Keith’s voice hitches as he swallows. “I don’t want to scare you away.”
There’s no way he’s hearing that right. There’s a missing piece somewhere and Shiro can’t find it. Keith thinks he’ll be put off by the salacious sight of him leaking his pleasure all over himself? Yeah, there’s no fucking way that’s right.
And oh God, how he must taste, Shiro groans aloud as he utterly spins out.
“I’ll understand if you don’t like it, Alright? I’ll find some condoms or something, it’ll be fine—”
“Let’s not fix a problem we don’t have.”
Keith’s reaction is slow, unwinding from confusion to blank surprise. “What?”
“I love it,” Shiro swallows. Keep it together, Shirogane. “Fuck, that’s so hot, Keith. I want to taste you so bad.”
Keith’s jaw hangs slack. “You do?”
“Yes,” he kisses Keith hard, maybe too hard. He’s sure he’s never been wound tighter in his damn life, slowly pumping Keith’s slick cock in his fist. “Please, Keith, are you gonna make me beg?”
Even shuddering at the touch, Keith can’t fight the smile that breaks over his face. Shiro feels it like sunshine.
“I mean, that sounds like fun, but, um- no.” Keith’s cheeks heat. “Knock yourself out?”
“I just might,” Shiro snorts. His mood is soaring as he licks his lips.
“Oh my God, Shiro,” Keith laughs at the implication. Yes, he’s the tall drink of water Shiro is salivating over, and at least Keith doesn’t look upset about it anymore.
Shiro moves, making a beeline for Keith’s cock. His usual patience is nowhere to be found, striping his boxers off his ankles and licking a hot stripe up Keith’s length before the mattress has even settled from his avid pouncing.
Keith gasps, fingers fisting in Shiro’s hair. Shiro hums his delight out loud, making sure Keith hears all of it. He cleans Keith off first, tongue teasing around the crown, before slurping up the spill from his abs. Keith curses under his breath.
“Keith,” Shiro pants, lapping at his slit as he spills even more on Shiro’s tongue. “Incredible.”
“It- it’s okay?”
“So fucking good,” Shiro groans, pumping Keith in his fist to wring another heady drop onto his tongue. “God, I love how you taste, how you smell.”
Keith flushes down to his chest, his lips thinning like he’s holding back a smile. Shiro preens, knowing that he did that. He made Keith feel good and whole and safe. It’s all he ever wanted.
Shiro relished the appetizer, but he’s ready for the main course. He pulls Keith’s cock into his waiting mouth, working his tongue as he sucks. He starts gently, soft and worshipful like Keith deserves. The taste of him floods Shiro’s mouth and he moans, swallowing. He can’t get enough.
Keith’s fingers flex in his bangs as Shiro works his mouth. Sucking and swallowing, he can’t help rutting against the bed. He feels wild, like he just needs to move.
He pops off with a wet, lewd sound, painting Keith’s pre across his lips. Keith makes an inhuman noise as Shiro pillows his lower lip against the crown, giving him teasing little kitten licks.
“Beautiful,” Shiro murmurs, salivating. He’s backed off, hardly doing anything just now, and Keith looks like he’ll spin apart just from his praise. Shiro wants to see him fall apart, sliding Keith’s cock back into his mouth, straining to look up and watch his eyes as well as he can.
He knows he’s close, but exactly how close he can’t be sure. Keith’s thighs flex and squeeze around his shoulders, his hips ready to rock up off the bed if Shiro didn’t have him held fast. Keith cries out and it’s all over. He throbs hot and wet into Shiro’s mouth. Shiro drinks him down greedily.
“S-sorry,” Keith gasps in a quiet voice.
“What for? That was amazing,” Shiro pants, his pulse thundering in his ears.
“So much,” Keith groans, then whispers, “too much.”
“No,” Shiro shakes his head, crawling up Keith’s body. “Never. I can’t get enough of you, Keith.”
Kissing him, he wonders if Keith will shy away— if his hangup might be that he doesn’t like the mess— but Keith licks into Shiro’s mouth, sharing the taste. They both groan, floating in that feeling, Shiro’s fingers slipping into Keith’s hair. Their legs tangle, and Shiro’s cock is heavy and throbbing at Keith’s hipbone. He’s leaking a little puddle there, as well, but not like Keith.
Keith shifts beneath him, giving Shiro a little jolt of friction.
“Someone’s been very patient,” Keith teases.
“If you call that patience,” Shiro snorts. “God, Keith. Can I fuck you? I mean, we can wait—”
“Yes,” Keith’s eyes flutter. “I want to.”
Shiro’s grip tightens at the back of Keith’s neck. “Great, where’s your lube?”
“Seriously?” Keith levels him with a look. “Do I look like I’ve ever needed lube?”
“Oh,” Shiro laughs. “Well, I mean, you can fuck me… if you wanted. When you’re ready—” He cuts himself off as his gaze shifts down and he sees Keith’s cock has already recovered, laying hard and heavy and leaking against his belly. “Oh my God. How are you human?”
Keith’s cheeks turn a little pink, but this time it’s more cocky pleasure.
“Okay,” Shiro says, “I can work with that.” He moves down between Keith’s knees, hoisting Keith’s hips up onto a pillow. Bending Keith’s knees to his chest confirms something he’s always known in his heart: that Keith is very, very flexible. “You’re not the only one who likes to use your mouth.”
Pressing down on the back of Keith’s thighs, he dives down to flick his tongue over Keith’s hole. Keith cries in surprise, back arching. Encouraged, Shiro swirls his tongue around the pucker of Keith’s entrance, lavishing wet licks and slipping his tongue inside.
“Shiro!” Keith keens.
“Hold your thighs for me, sweetheart,” Shiro instructs. He obeys with a white-knuckle grip, making all kinds of helpless noises as Shiro pumps his tongue into Keith’s tight hole.
He’s so, so tight. He’s also leaking a shiny stream of pre that’s just as inviting as before. Shiro salivates as he slides a finger through the mess, swirling his slick fingertip around the ring of muscle and sliding inside. Keith’s mouth hangs open, a silent gasp at the intrusion.
“Perfect,” Shiro praises, “so perfect for me.”
“Hnngh,” Keith groans, bruising his own thighs as he holds himself steady for Shiro.
“Shh, relax, Keith,” he says. “I’m gonna take care of you.”
And he does. He loses track of how many times he slathers his hand in Keith’s pre, drooling a steady stream at the endless attention. One finger at a time, Shiro works him open to take his cock. He’s long since past the point of necessary prep and slipped into playing with Keith, exploring his body and the sounds he can milk from him.
There are details Shiro isn’t quite sure what to make of, confounding in the best possible way. The more aroused Keith becomes, the internal landscape of his body is changing, the walls taking on a texture that is almost ribbed. Shiro drags his fingertips over the surface, bumping along rings of engorged flesh that are definitely not humanly possible. He touches and touches and can’t get enough.
He also can’t find Keith’s prostate, which he’s pretty sure isn’t pilot error. But when he lathes attention over internal ribs, Keith whines and writhes and his cock leaks a milkier color. Whatever this means, Shiro can't begin to guess— but he is not complaining.
Keith has always been one of a kind. So precious and rare, he might be unique in all of the universe.
+ + +
Shiro likes it. Shiro likes this, all of this.
Keith is barely hanging on to his sanity by the time he’s opened to Shiro’s satisfaction, slick as hell with his body’s own issue. Shiro spared no expense preparing his body, and when he fucks inside, he’s positively driven.
Ankles by Shiro’s ears, Keith is half-folded, half-inverted, and completely wrung out for Shiro to use as he likes. Heaven, it’s heaven.
Shiro is large, and there is relief in the fact the man took so much care making Keith’s body ready, because his cock is a battering ram. There will be no walls standing when he’s done pumping him hard and fast, filling him to the breaking point.
There’s something intoxicating about Shiro’s eyes, blown and darkly ravenous. He meets Keith’s eyes with a flutter that’s absolutely tender. Mostly he watches Keith’s cock jump and spurt endlessly as he fucks him. Shiro keeps licking his lips.
Thirsty. He looks fucking thirsty and entranced, and Keith is ready to die happily right here, just knowing he’s not too much for Shiro.
Shiro wants this, just like this. With me.
Shiro holds himself on one arm, sliding in Keith’s slick, playing with it. His palm slick, he slides back enough to wrap his hand around his cock, fucking inside harder and wetter. Keith shakes from the force of it, leaking even harder. Shiro sighs his name over and over and over.
“Come inside me,” Keith moans, and Shiro can’t argue. He spills inside with a gasp of breath.
As they gather their breath, Keith is still hard against his stomach, still leaking.
He’s tempted to apologize, purely out of habit, but he knows deep down there is no need. He won’t say it; it will only make Shiro worry that he doesn’t believe his praise, his assurances, and he does. Shiro loves Keith’s messy cock. He wants it in his mouth and in his hand and rutting against his body. He loves pumping Keith’s mess into his ass.
Maybe he also…
“I can fuck you,” Keith says. It’s a stupid thing to say, of course he can, obviously. Sure, he hasn’t before, never trusted anyone before, but he can and he will, he wants to if Shiro wants—
“Please,” Shiro pants, cutting off Keith’s racing thoughts with a hard kiss.
Shiro moves onto his knees without a word, his gorgeous ass in the air for Keith to admire. And he does— he follows Shiro’s ass like a flower follows the sun, kneeling behind him and running his hands over the firm, sweat-slick skin. It’s like a dream, only it’s really happening.
Keith holds himself at the base, guiding the wet tip to smear across Shiro’s hole and between his flushed cheeks. Shiro chokes back a moan, a shudder sliding up the man’s spine. He’s such a sight, all for Keith.
And so eager. Keith pumps his cock in his hand, coming away wet and slipping fingers easily inside Shiro’s hole, his body open and willing. Shiro’s hips jolt back, chasing more.
Keith gets two handfuls of Shiro’s pert ass, spreading his cheeks for a better look. He gets absorbed, holding Shiro wide open and rutting his cock at his ass, smearing slick and catching at Shiro’s rim as he goes.
“Nngh,” Shiro whines, the cant of his hips impatient and needy. “C’mon Keith, hurry up.”
The words jolt right to Keith’s dick, making him spurt. He does hurry then, at least a little. Keith lines up and fucks inside.
It’s unlike anything he’s ever felt— tight, hot, wet, Shiro’s body pulsing with tiny movements as he arches in a silent, spine-bending cry.
He’s mesmerized again, watching how Shiro’s body takes him in and swallows him down. When Keith bottoms out, Shiro is there grinding back, begging with his hips. Keith feels him bear down, milking him. His cock is leaking deep inside Shiro’s hole.
Keith builds up the pace, anchored by the sounds of slapping against Shiro’s backside. Louder and louder and wetter.
“Fuck,” Shiro moans, hearing it too. “You gonna fill me up, Keith?”
“Yeah,” Keith pants. “Baby, you’re so good for me. I’ll take care of you, fill you right up.”
Shiro makes a noise, a bitten-off mewl. Keith’s never spoken like this— never really thought of doing it, not even in fantasy. But it’s easy to praise Shiro.
“You like being mine?”
“Yes,” Shiro pants, flushing down his neck and even to his shoulders, craning his neck to peer back at Keith. “Yours.”
Keith flexes his grip at Shiro’s waist, pulling him back into his thrusts. It’s hard, relentless, the angle shifting just right until Shiro howls, hips stuttering as he comes.
“Mine,” Keith growls. There’s no stopping now, he’s tipping over into ecstasy. And Shiro’s there to catch him.
Draped over Shiro’s sweat-slick back, Keith tries to settle his breathing. He’s never felt like this, never trusted anyone with this, never felt like someone could love every part of him, invite him in so completely. But Shiro did and the gratitude rushes in like a riptide.
Shiro is panting too, his bangs mussed and damp as he looks back at Keith. His eyes are so damn soft.
“I… can’t believe you sometimes,” Shiro says gently, infinitely fond.
Keith grinds his hips forward slightly, just enough to make Shiro’s eyelashes flutter. Then Keith sits up meaning to pull out.
“Wait,” Shiro stops him, biting his lip. “N-not yet. I like how it feels.”
Keith doesn’t fight the grin. “You like me plugging you up?”
“Yes,” Shiro whispers. Keith had no idea his cheeks could be hotter.
Kneeling between Shiro’s knees, Keith runs his hands over Shiro’s thighs, his hips and ass, just appreciating it all. Shiro hums softly, relaxing under his hands.
Keith parts Shiro’s cheeks and isn’t prepared for the sight of the mess of come dribbling out. Keith draws back just a little despite Shiro’s little whine, staring at the creamy slick he’s painting in and out of his hole.
Shiro startles. “Oh my god, how are you still hard?”
“I’m not,” Keith argues weakly, though he will be again soon. He doesn’t know why his body is like this, but right now, with Shiro stretched out beneath him, he’s grateful for all of it for the first time. “Don’ worry, I’m just… looking.”
Playing, that’s the word. He’s playing, sliding softly out, painting a circle around Shiro’s hole and then sliding back in. Keith uses his fingers to gather some of the come that slipped from his hole, pressing it back inside, followed again by his cock, keeping him full.
“Perfect, baby,” Keith whispers. “You look perfect like this.”
“Keith,” Shiro sighs. He’s pleased, and totally spent.
Keith presses him down into the bed, laying down over Shiro’s back and still seated inside. Keith keeps him full as he softens, ready to sleep.
“Perfect,” Shiro agrees muzzily. “We're perfect just like this.”
Keith couldn’t agree more.