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Shiro rubs the back of his neck, the muscles tense and sore from working all day hunched over his data pad. He’s been working overtime more often than not the last few weeks and it’s finally catching up to him. It had been wishful thinking on his part to hope that expectations would be lower once the war was over. There is still much work to do and Shiro, as captain of the Atlas and the most recognizable symbol of the resistance after Voltron itself, had been overwhelmed with new responsibilities. He and his crew had a new humanitarian mission nearly every week, and as much as Shiro loved traveling the universe and helping people, it was exhausting work.
Letting his thoughts wander has him gazing out at the stars around him. The bridge always has the most spectacular view. Not for the first time, Shiro can hardly believe this is his life. It was the life he could only dream of with his feet planted back on Earth, his body conspiring to keep him there forever. He shakes his head, ridding himself of memories better left in the past. Keith is waiting for him back in their quarters and Shiro can join him if he can just finish this last report. The rest can wait until tomorrow.
Shiro is so focused on his task he doesn’t hear the bridge doors slide open then closed with a soft whoosh. He startles when hands grip his shoulders, but relaxes when he recognizes the familiar scent of the person standing behind him. Shiro barely holds back a groan as Keith kneads his shoulders, his thumbs finding all the knots and easing them away in small circular motions.
“I missed you today,” Keith’s warm breath against his ear sends shivers through him. Shiro hums in agreement. His eyes flutter closed, overwhelmed by the way the smallest things Keith does still have this much of an effect on him. How they probably always will.
“You work so hard, don’t you, captain?” God. Keith has this way of saying captain, drawing it out in a way that never fails to get under Shiro’s skin and rile him up, even at the most inappropriate times. His tone of voice now lets Shiro know exactly what Keith is after. He loves when Keith takes control like this, demanding, in control despite the honorifics rolling off his tongue.
But as much as he loves it, the bridge of the ship is not the place to be doing this. Shiro struggles to keep hold of why exactly this is bad, why he should tell Keith to stop.
“Keith, we shouldn’t—” Shiro’s weak protests die on his lips when Keith’s hands travel downward, deftly undoing the top buttons to slide beneath his jacket and fondle his chest, one pec gripped hungrily in each hand. “W-we shouldn’t do this here…” Shiro says faintly, without the conviction to convince even himself that he doesn’t want Keith to keep going. Keith’s fingers pull and tease, rolling Shiro’s nipples until they’re stiff and aching. He lets out a moan and presses back hard against the chair, sweat collecting in the small of his back as Keith continues his unrelenting assault on his chest.
“You need to relax, baby. You deserve it. Will you let me take care of you the way you deserve?” Keith’s voice is low, raw, revealing he’s just as affected as Shiro.
“Yes.” Shiro’s answer is stronger than he thought he could manage. Keith gasps softly in surprise; apparently he hadn’t expected a coherent answer from Shiro. He recovers quickly though, giving Shiro’s chest one last slow squeeze before pulling his hands away.
“There’s a good boy,” Keith purrs in his ear. Shiro feels the usual hot flush of his cheeks at Keith’s praise. He’d always been a golden boy at the Garrison, eager to please and thrilled to receive commendation, but hearing praise from Keith, like this, affected him is ways he never expected. Keith’s hand trails along Shiro’s shoulders and down his arm as Keith circles him. He steps in between Shiro’s legs, pushing them further apart as he slides down to his knees and palms Shiro through his pants. Shiro can’t speak, can’t do anything but pant erratically, pushing his hips up in desperate need for friction, for anything. Keith makes quick work of his belt buckle and zipper, pulling down his pants and briefs just enough to expose his hard, dripping cock to the cool air of the ship.
Keith strokes the length of him once, twice, slow and teasing. He brings his face up close to the base, keeping eye contact with Shiro as he licks a stripe from the base to the tip, swirling his tongue around the head.
He watches Keith sink down on his dick, taking the whole thing in inch by inch, his eyes rolling back in his head like it is the most pleasurable thing he has ever experienced. He bobs his head, that skillful tongue taking Shiro apart piece by piece. Keith’s hands run up and down Shiro’s exposed thighs, twitching and gripping occasionally as he swallows down Shiro’s cock. In minutes, Shiro is close; Keith knows his body and exactly what he wants too well by now. Shiro cups the back of Keith’s neck, but Keith pulls off before the heat finishes pooling in Shiro’s stomach. Shiro makes a little sound in the back of his throat at the loss of Keith’s warm mouth. Keith pats his thigh in sympathy, but there’s fire in his eyes when he replies.
“Oh, I’m not done with you yet.”
In the space of a blink, Keith has his pants off and his jacket open as he climbs up to straddle Shiro’s lap. Shiro reaches a hand around to prep Keith, desperate for him, but Keith grabs his wrist and places his hand back on the armrest before reaching down to line up Shiro’s cock. His hole is dripping wet. Shiro’s brain explodes, possessiveness rising in his chest. How long had Keith been walking around like this?
“I prepped myself on break earlier, so I’d be open and ready for you. I told you I missed you. I imagined it was your fingers working me open instead of my own.” Keith groans, long and low, as he works his way down onto Shiro. “Or this perfect cock of yours.”
Keith takes him in completely, ass flush against Shiro’s thighs, then stills. Shiro can hear himself panting. “Keith, please…I need—”
Keith’s hand grips the hair at the nape of Shiro’s neck, pulling his head back as he leans in to whisper roughly in Shiro’s ear. “I’m going to take what I want and give you what you need, Shiro.” He rises up torturously slow, bracing his hands on Shiro’s shoulders, his thighs tight and straining to lift himself. “I’m gonna take such good care of you if you just let me. Let me ruin you, captain.”
Keith braces his hands on Shiro’s shoulders as he rises up, the slow drag of him ripping a groan from Shiro’s throat. He sets up a steady rhythm, rising on shaking thighs and sliding back down to meet the roll of Shiro’s hips. Shiro want this to be good for Keith, to do all that is asked of him and more. To make Keith proud.
Keith reaches out for Shiro’s hand and places it on his chest, his other hand coming up to rest on Shiro’s cheek. “Stop thinking about what I want. You’re always focused on everyone else. I want you to let go, Shiro. I’ve got you.” Keith’s hips move more slowly, grinding down on Shiro’s lap as he waits for him to take the last step, to lose himself in Keith completely. His eyes are soft and intense, staring into Shiro’s, willing Shiro to trust him with everything he is. Shiro wants nothing more than to fall with him, to trust that Keith will always be there to catch him. Shiro has never felt more exposed than at this moment, regardless of how much clothing they’re still wearing. He’s never wanted to give himself as fully to another person as he does to Keith, right now.
“Yes, just like that, Shiro. God, I love seeing you like this, desperate...falling apart...because of me.” His voice is labored, words formed around sharp breaths and ragged moans. Keith runs a hand through Shiro’s hair, gripping a handful in the back to use as leverage as he fucks himself, using Shiro’s body to chase his orgasm and lead Shiro towards his own. “Fuck, Shiro, I’m—,” Keith cries out, his body curving over Shiro, his release striping Shiro’s chest and stomach.
Shiro can feel himself spiraling out of control, his whole world narrowing down to the feeling of his hands on his chest, the warm clenching pressure around his cock, Keith’s voice in his ear. And the growing fire in his stomach, racing down his spine, begging for release. Shiro grasps for Keith, needing to touch him, to be as close to him as possible. His fingers dig into Keith’s hips as he finally lets go, jerking his hips up once time and filling Keith with his release, holding him down on his lap as he rides out the aftershocks of the most spectacular orgasm he’s ever had.
Keith is stroking the back of his head, murmuring to him, and although Shiro can’t process the words right now, they feel like praise. They feel perfect. He lifts his head from Keith’s shoulder, desperate to kiss him, and Keith meets him halfway. Keith always knows exactly what Shiro needs, sometimes before he even knows himself, and right now he needs soft, indulgent post-orgasm-haze kisses. Shiro cradles Keith’s face in his hands, their lips moving together slowly, the frenzy and desperation from moments ago calmed.
Keith pulls back, a tired, pleased smile on his face. He presses one more quick kiss on Shiro’s lips before he reaches down and closes Shiro’s jacket over the mess he left there, buttoning it up to the top. Keith stands up slowly, pulling his pants on and winking at a still dazed Shiro. “Well, if you’re finally done working, captain, I’ll be waiting for you in our quarters,” Keith sends over his shoulder as he saunters out of the room, leaving Shiro sitting half-naked in his own captain’s chair, wondering how in the universe he got so lucky.