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Shiro ducks out of the meeting that had run only five minutes over and sighs with relief. It is incredibly rare that meetings don’t run over their slated time bloc, so this is occasion to celebrate. Which he intends to do, just as soon as he can get there.
He is about to set off when he feels a hand on his shoulder. Shiro sighs internally. Why is it always him that is needed? Can’t they tell he has somewhere to be?
Shiro pastes a bland smile on his face and turns around, only to meet the smiling eyes of Sam Holt. That makes Shiro grin for real.
“Great job keeping the meeting on schedule,” says Sam. “You should do it more often.”
Shiro grimaces and Sam continues. “Where are you off to tonight, son? Looks like you have a date.”
Shiro feels himself blush and he looks away from Sam a moment to compose himself. “Yeah, I-“ he breaks off. Sighs happily. Looks back at Sam with a shy smile on his face. “Yeah. Or at least I hope so. I’m going hoverbiking with Keith.”
Sam claps him on the shoulder, looking proud. “He’s a good man, Shiro. I hope you have fun. You should invite him over for dinner sometime.”
Shiro’s mouth drops open a little. It is his first instinct to be surprised, but he realizes he shouldn’t be. “Thanks, Sam,” he says. “I’ll make sure to. I think he’d love that.”
Sam laughs good-naturedly. “Well, go on then. I don’t want to keep you from him any longer. Enjoy your evening, Shiro.”
Shiro smiles. He intends to. Walking faster than he normally does, Shiro pulls out his PADD and keeps his head down. Best to look busy to avoid anyone stopping him.
Feeling triumphant, Shiro slides into his quarters, having been stopped by no one. He quickly showers and changes his clothes. The shower might have been pointless, as he will get dirty again soon, but he figures it is better to start out clean and hence not end up twice dirty later.
He combs his hair before checking himself in the mirror. It is still strange sometimes to see his reflection. Strange to see fully white hair and a different sort of bionic arm than his original. Strange to know that this body is his, and not his. Himself, yet not himself.
It is mind-bending knowledge, and Shiro doesn’t like it, the feeling that he is squatting somewhere he shouldn’t be. But, as far as he knows, he is the only soul here, and he hopes, eventually, with lots more therapy, this body will truly begin to feel like his own.
Dysmorphia aside, he’s happy with his outfit, and that is what he should focus on right now. He put on dark jeans that hug his thighs, a tight grey t-shirt, and the new racing jacket Keith had gotten him. The one Keith had gotten him that matches the red one he’d bought for himself.
Keith had gotten them matching jackets. Shiro smiles giddily and blushes at the thought. He is long past not reading into things.
The rather large part of his brain that is always thinking about Keith has shifted from the constant aching fondness of years past to full-on obsession.
Shiro hasn’t felt like this since he’d first met Adam, seventeen and experiencing his first real crush. It’s dizzying, and that part of his brain purrs at the knowledge that this is a gift from Keith, and that it is a gift he shares with Keith.
The top half of the jacket is purple, and the bottom half is white, the sections divided by a geometric black line. Shiro loves it, especially the purple, and most especially the fact that it is from Keith.
When Shiro had asked Keith why he hadn’t made the top section black like his paladin armor or Coalition jacket, Keith had said, “These are for us not the Garrison. I wasn’t going to put you in black and white.”
It had made his heart swell to hear it, like a flower blooming towards the sun that was Keith. Feeling, always, a settling inside himself, a knowing that he is seen and understood by Keith.
He runs his hands fondly over the front of the jacket, feeling the smooth leather slide against his palms. Sighing happily, he grabs his keys and heads out.
-
He finds Keith in the hanger, his jacket shucked off and draped over Shiro’s bike as he fiddles with his own. Keith sits straddling the bike backwards, the panel behind the seat hanging open.
His hair is tied up in a little bun, and he’s dressed in a black t-shirt and tight black pants. His shirt has ridden up from bending over the hoverbike, and Shiro can see the smooth curves of his muscles, the taut line of his spine, the little dips of dimples above his hips.
Shiro drinks him in like he’s dying of thirst. He wants to put his thumbs there, wants to wrap his hands around Keith’s tiny waist. He wants to kiss down his spine and…
He clears his throat, half to get Keith’s attention, half to compose himself.
Keith whips around, a frown on his lips before he breaks into a bright smile. “Shiro,” he says, sounding surprised. “I didn’t expect you to get here so early.”
“Early?” says Shiro, slightly miffed. “When have you known me to be late?”
Keith gives him a knowing smile. “Not to be late. Just to be stuck at meetings too long because you’re being too polite and don’t want to cut anyone off in the interest of time.”
Shiro’s mouth drops open, and then he squints at Keith in mock indignation. “I didn’t ask to be called out like this, Keith,” he says.
Keith cackles. “You know it’s true,” he says through laughter.
Shiro rolls his eyes, feeling impossibly fond. “Sam said much the same thing to me after the meeting ended. By the way, he wants you to come to the next Holt family dinner.”
Keith beams. “Really? Awesome. I’ve heard Colleen makes amazing lasagna.”
Shiro laughs. Colleen’s legendary lasagna. A reputation all of its own. He nods at Keith. “She does. Anyway, what are you doing?” He gestures to the open panel on the back of Keith’s bike.
“Oh,” Keith says, swinging a leg over and hopping down from the bike. “I had to change the oil.” He pushes his bangs away and looks up at Shiro, his eyes so blue in the hanger lights. “It’s good to see, you,” he says. Then he steps forward and wraps his arms around Shiro.
Shiro gasps, his arms wrapping around Keith of their own accord and squeeing tight. He exhales, smiles into Keith’s hair and then says, “Not that I’m complaining, because I’m not. But what’s this for? I saw you this morning.”
Keith pulls back, looking up at Shiro, bold as ever, and yet still a little shy. “Can’t I miss you?” he asks.
Shiro feels it again, that swelling feeling in his chest that he associates with all things good and wonderful and Keith. He smiles down at him, feeling the edges of his eyes crinkle as they only do when he is around Keith.
“Of course you can,” says Shiro. “I missed you, too.”
These days, in a situation that never ceases to bring Shiro joy, he sees Keith just as much as when they flew Voltron. A notable difference now is that they share a bed. They have ever since the first night Keith had slept over after the war, and had then been woken by Shiro screaming his lungs out in a nightmare.
They hadn’t really talked about it. Hadn’t decided anything. Keith just showed up the next day after dinner, asking him if he wanted company. And of course, he had. He always wants Keith’s company. So Keith stayed with him that night, and the night after.
Eventually, Keith got his own drawers in the dresser. His own towel on the extra hook in the bathroom, and his toothbrush next to Shiro’s. Now when Shiro wakes up in the morning, there are two cups of coffee to pour, two plates of what Keith makes for breakfast, two sets of boots by the door. It has been phoebs since then, and slowly the space that had been Shiro’s has become Shiro and Keith’s. Instead of just a room, it has become a home.
“Glad to hear it,” smirks Keith, extricating his arms from around Shiro, to Shiro’s dismay. “I hope you’re ready to have your ass left in the dust.”
Shiro affects a gape. “Don’t talk about my ass that way, Keith. I think you’re vastly underestimating me.”
Keith laughs and turns away, but Shiro thinks he caught the hint of a blush at his cheeks. Keith swipes his jacket from where it rests over Shiro’s seat and shrugs it on, leaning back against his own bike and facing Shiro.
“I could never underestimate you,” he says, earnestly.
Shiro smiles at him, trailing his eyes slowly from Keith’s boots, over his long legs, and up to the jacket that matches Shiro’s, maroon and grey and cherry red where Shiro’s is purple, white, and black. His eyes settle on Keith’s face, looking happy and fond where he meets Shiro’s gaze.
“Are you ready to get your ass beat, punk?” he says with a smirk.
Keith gasps, and he really does blush then, a high flush spreading over his cheeks as his eyes light with the challenge. They stare at each other, just for a moment, Shiro’s confidence meeting Keith’s passion in a heady glance. Then Keith smiles, bright as the sun, and says, “Oh, you’re on, old man.”
-
They set out with a pace that anyone else would describe as fast, but for them is slow and meandering as they ride outside of Garrison property. The sky is bright blue, and the late afternoon sun casts everything in a hazy glow. There’s a rare breeze, and with the speed of the bikes multiplying it into a wind, the feeling of the sun and the air together is delicious.
Shiro looks over at Keith to find him standing up in his seat, face tilted up to the sun and smiling. He looks so relaxed and free and happy. Shiro loves all versions of Keith, but this is his favorite. Here and now, Shiro gets to see that everything he ever hoped for Keith has become a dream realized.
He’s grown so much from the lonely teenager Shiro befriended all those years ago. And yet, it’s like looking at an echo, because both Keiths are here, both feral boy and confident man, existing within each other.
This is the real Keith. This is where he first saw the real Keith, years ago when Shiro took him out on the hoverbike for the first time. Slowly, Keith had relaxed, his tension melting away as a cat basks in the sun, tilting his face up to the sky like a desert flower.
The images blend into each other in Shiro’s mind. Young Keith, and this Keith. Both his Keith. One scared and lonely, the other confident and happy. Both sweet and brave, and utterly alive.
Keith looks down toward him, and when he smiles, it is a dangerous grin. It is a grin of taunts and challenges. A grin that says meet me, match me, you’re the only one who can.
Shiro knows that grin exactly, because it’s one he’s worn for years for Keith. It is the grin of perfect equals, of two like souls calling out to their mate.
To see it on Keith’s face now is is a call and an answer all at once. It is, I see you, and I have always seen you, and you are mine, and I am yours and we have always, always belonged together.
Shiro revs his engines as Keith drops back down into his seat. They smile at each other into the space between them. The space that feels like nothing at all, because Keith is right there and they are together.
In perfect sync, they twist the throttle, and rocket forward. They’re on level ground, and so they shoot forward like stars, neck and neck and gaining speed.
They lean left toward some rock formations and the rolling ground beneath. They dip and weave like they’re on a roller coaster, shooting into the air like dolphins.
Shiro gets ahead of Keith in their turns, but Keith catches him in the straightaways, shooting past Shiro and cheekily sticking his tongue out as he passes. It’s adorable and thrilling, and Shiro pushes himself to catch Keith just so he can see his face again.
They trade the lead as they race, neither of them gaining a clear edge over the other. That is, until Shiro makes a hairpin turn and shoots into a canyon.
He looks back to see Keith snapping his head toward Shiro and then moving to follow him. By then, Shiro is already entering the canyon, which is narrow enough that Keith won’t risk trying to pass him. Not when the only way to do it would be to jump his bike over Shiro’s.
He could do it, Shiro knows, but he also knows Keith won’t. The canyon is so thin there’s mere inches between their bikes and the rock wall. And in a race where Shiro would certainly want to keep his lead, it would just be too easy for part of Keith’s bike to land on top of Shiro’s and potentially hurt him.
And even with all Keith’s skill, Shiro knows even that slim chance of hurting him is enough to ensure Keith won’t do it. So, Shiro is more than secure in his lead. For now, at least.
They wind around one last lucky bend, and in the space between, when Shiro has fully turned the corner and Keith is still in the middle of it, Shiro guns it. From here, it’s a straight shot back onto open ground, and Shiro will take every advantage he can get.
On the other side of the flat expanse of ground is their destination. Leena’s Diner.
It’s the final stretch, and Shiro shoots across the ground like a comet. He can hear Keith gaining on him, but there’s just not enough ground left for Keith to pass him now.
Shiro whips the bike around and skids backward into the parking lot, Keith shooting up next to him and coming to rest at the same time.
Shiro looks up to see Keith panting with joy and laughter, a happy, wondrous look on his face. “You told me that canyon was a dead end,” he says, dragging his goggles up to his forehead. It rucks up his bangs so that they stick up adorably over his head.
Shiro nods, taking off his own goggles and letting them drop around his neck. “I did say that. I also lied,” he shrugs, smiling in innocent apology. “Had to keep some tricks up my sleeve. I knew you’d be better than me one day, after all.”
Keith’s face tightens and he shakes his head in a wobbly smile. “I’m not better than you, Shiro.”
Shiro grins at him, feeling so fond. “Yes you are, Keith, and I couldn’t be more proud. It’s the greatest compliment for the student to surpass the teacher.”
He can tell Keith wants to argue, to defend Shiro, but he can also see that Keith doesn’t want to contradict him. Not when Shiro is being so earnest.
So, he shakes his head and says, “I only would have had you beat because the race ended on a straightaway. You outflew me. Definitely a fair win.”
Shiro laughs, swinging his leg over the seat and hopping down. “I definitely cheated. But I appreciate you defending my honor,” he says, offering his hands to Keith to help him down. He doesn’t need it, Shiro just wants to touch him.
Keith laughs down at him, disbelieving, but when Shiro doesn’t move his hands, merely looks at Keith expectantly, Keith’s gaze softens and he swings his leg over too. Then he places his gloved palms on Shiro’s shoulders and lifts his hips into Shiro’s waiting hands.
Shiro gently lifts him, and in a move that is not strictly necessary, brings Keith close enough that his body slides against Shiro’s on the way down, leaving him close enough to kiss once his feet touch the ground.
Keith’s mouth is open and his cheeks are red. He looks up at Shiro and blinks, hard. Shiro wants so badly to kiss him, but he also doesn’t want their first kiss to be in a diner parking lot while they’re both covered in dirt and sweat, so he smiles down at Keith and forces himself to drop his hands from Keith’s hips.
“Let’s eat,” he says, and turns toward the diner.
-
They’re sitting in the aftermath of the meal, having demolished two burgers each. They’re lazily sharing fries, and Keith is slumped back on his side of the booth, head resting on the back of his seat and one of his legs propped up. He’s sucking on a strawberry milkshake and it’s so cute.
“…And then Nadia said we should set them all on fire,” he laughs. “I swear, she would get along so well with Ezor.”
Shiro smiles at him, happy to hear Keith talk about the Ares Squadron like they’re friends, because they are Keith’s friends now.
Keith doesn’t fly an MFE, he has his own ship built for him by Hunk to be as close in capabilities to the Red Lion as possible, and Keith is not part of Ares Squadron, but the five of them are the best pilots at the Garrison other than Shiro, and Shiro has enough to deal with. So, the task of training new fighter pilots after the war ended fell to them.
Keith complains sometimes that he’d rather be flying than monitoring a bunch of teenagers in flight simulators, but it’s good natured and Shiro knows he loves being a mentor for those kids the way Shiro was for him. Keith pays special attention to the lonely ones.
“Nadia seems to be much more…” Shiro searches for the word. “Chaotic around you than she is around me.”
Keith snorts. “Yeah, that’s because you’re the big boss man, Shiro.”
Shiro smiles and lightly kicks Keith’s leg beneath the table. Keith kicks back and then they’re caught in a game of footsie, trying to pin each other’s legs to the seat. Their legs end up tangled in each other, and Keith falls forward, laughing over their fries.
Shiro is about to lean forward too when there’s a flash of light followed by thunder. Keith looks up, his eyes widening, before they both turn to look outside.
The sky has grown dark, and pieces of trash whip around the parking lot in a fierce wind. It’s about to storm.
“Oh shit,” Keith says, immediately standing up and throwing some GAC onto the table. “Come on, let’s see if we can make it,” he says, grabbing Shiro’s hand and towing him out of the booth.
When they step outside, the wind is cool and the air is charged and damp from the oncoming storm. It hasn’t quite reached them yet, but it will soon.
“There’s no way we can make it back to the Garrison,” Shiro says, stating the obvious. Then he smirks sideways at Keith. “The shack, then?”
Keith grins and hops onto his bike. “Yeah,” he says, revving the engine. “I’ll race you. You remember the way?”
“You little smartass,” Shiro laughs, climbing onto his own bike. “I’m not that old.”
“Come on, then,” Keith says, revving the engines again. His eyes flicker to Shiro’s chest and he smirks. “Wouldn’t want you to get that nice shirt wet.” Then he peels out of the parking lot.
Shiro is frozen for a moment. Did Keith just flirt with him? He couldn’t have meant a wet t-shirt like that…could he?
“Earth to Shiro!” comes Keith’s yell. Shiro turns to him and blinks, images of Keith’s hands on his chest falling away like a dropped deck of cards. “Come on, we’re probably gonna get caught in it already, no use wasting time.”
Shiro laughs, privately thanking Keith for pulling him from his thoughts. Stars know he doesn’t need to fantasize about Keith more than he does already. He revs his engines in response and speeds off to join Keith.
This ride is less fancy than the other. This time, they’re not trying to show-off, but rather are trying to get from point A to point B as fast as possible. But even with all their efforts, the storm still catches them.
The violet clouds blot out the darkening sky above, casting them in shadow as they race over the ground. It overtakes and they are drenched in seconds, the rain pelting them in fat, heavy droplets. Desert storms are as rare as they are ferocious, and Shiro counts them lucky that the sun is just beginning to set. While he’s confident in his flying, he doesn’t have Keith’s night vision, and flying through the rain is difficult enough. If it were dark, Shiro might be in a bit of trouble.
As it is, by some unspoken agreement, they’re not really racing anymore. Keith can definitely see better than Shiro can right now and they both know it, so Keith is leading and Shiro is following.
Shiro immediately wishes their roles were reversed when Keith speeds toward a familiar cliff without slowing. Shiro yells out to him, desperately needing Keith to stop. It’s wet and cold and slippery, and the wind is howling, and the rain is slapping them in sideways sheets. It is not safe. It is not safe at all for Keith to jump over a cliff.
But he does. And Shiro, unable to let Keith face it alone, goes with him.
The fall is terrifying, as it has never been before. The wind buffets them, and their hoverbikes jerk side to side and up and down as gusts hit them from every direction. Shiro wants to watch Keith, to make sure he’s safe, but Shiro doesn’t have any attention to spare for him right now, needing all his concentration to keep the craft level.
When they land, it is bumpy, and both their bikes bounce forward in little hops as if they are rocks skipping across a pond.
But the land is level once again, and it’s a straight shot to Keith’s shack from here. Their ride smoothes out, and in minutes, they are pulling their bikes up in front of the building.
Before he even stops moving, Shiro is whipping his head toward Keith and checking him all over for signs of harm. Keith rips his goggles off his face, tilts his face up to the sky, and howls like a wild wolf.
Shiro stares at him as he laughs into the rain, climbing off his bike and whooping while he twirls around, palms facing the clouds. It is then that Shiro sees that Keith is not distressed like he is, but elated. Instead of being fearful of their fall, Keith feels freed by it.
Shiro wants to shake him. He could have been hurt. He could have been killed. Had things gone badly, Shiro might, at this very moment, be peeling Keith’s body off the hard ground.
He tears his goggles off, jumps down from his bike, and marches over to Keith. Shiro seizes Keith as he spins toward him, gripping him by his jacket and then by his hair as he shoves him against the hoverbike and kisses him.
Keith makes a shocked noise against his lips, and Shiro takes the opportunity to lick into his mouth, tasting him, claiming him.
Keith groans and melts into the kiss, his hands fumbling for purchase against Shiro’s soaked chest. Shiro fists his hair and drags his head backwards, growling against his jaw.
“Why did you do that? Why did you jump over that cliff? You could have died.”
Keith gasps, “Shiro.”
But Shiro moves his thumb over Keith’s lips, tilting his face up again and pressing their foreheads together. He realizes he is shaking where he is pressed against Keith.
“Don’t ever do that again,” Shiro whispers, his anger flying from him as he looks into Keith’s wide eyes. “Not during a storm, Keith. I could have lost you.”
Keith blinks and his eyes look wet, even through the rain. “Yeah,” he says. “Yeah, Shiro, yeah. I’m sorry. I’m sorry.”
He reaches for Shiro’s face, stroking his cheek and running his fingers through his hair. “I’m okay, Shiro. I’m okay,” he says, trying to relax Shiro as much as he can. “I won’t do it again, I promise. Let me get you inside. Come on.”
His left arm snakes around Shiro’s waist, and instead of turning around, he walks them backward, his eyes never leaving Shiro’s.
They trip going up the stairs and end up crashing against the door, Shiro pressing Keith back against the wood. Shiro drops his head and kisses Keith’s cheek, and Keith whimpers, momentarily ceasing his efforts to get the key into the lock.
But eventually he gets it and the door swings open behind them, dropping them into the space beyond.
Shiro doesn’t let go, crowding Keith against the wall beside the door and kicking it shut behind him. It is jarring, being out of the rain and inside where it is somewhat warm. Shiro is cold and still shivering, but Keith is hot against him.
“Shiro,” Keith whispers. “I’m so sorry. I didn’t think, I-“
Shiro silences him with a kiss. Keith growls this time, the sound so sudden it’s like it was ripped out of him. He surges against Shiro, slipping his hands beneath Shiro’s shirt and pressing warm fingers against his cold skin.
Shiro shivers and licks into his mouth, trying to tell Keith with his body what he cannot say with words.
I need you. I love you. I can’t live without you. Please, don’t scare me like that again.
Keith drags his mouth from Shiro’s, a scant inch between them, and says, “Shiro, you’re cold.”
Shiro shakes his head, gripping tighter around Keith’s hips. “Don’t let go, don’t. The only thing that could possibly get me warm right now is you. This. Holding you in my arms and knowing you’re okay.”
Keith makes a noise at that, short, almost a sob. “Shiro,” he says, so soft. “I want to take care of you. I want you to take care of me. Let me?”
Shiro hums, relaxing against Keith for the first time since they’ve been here. “Yes,” he says. “Keith, yes.”
Keith’s hands move away from his back then, gliding over his chest and up to his shoulders, pushing the jacket up and off. Shiro yanks his arms from it, but instead of letting it fall to the floor, Keith lovingly drapes it over a hook on the wall by his head.
It makes Shiro’s heart clench, overwhelmed by Keith’s care for him. Keith’s care for his things. He almost wants to cry. He stares at Keith, trapped in his violet gaze. Keith’s hands move beneath his t-shirt, soothing up his chest in a tender caress, as he drags the shirt up and over Shiro’s head.
Shiro feels cool and warm all at once as his wet skin is exposed to the air as well as Keith’s gaze. He watches as Keith’s eyes drop down to his chest, moving over his pecs and down toward the planes of his abdomen.
Keith’s hands squeeze around Shiro’s hips, and he looks back up at Shiro and breathes, “Fuck, you’re beautiful.”
Shiro gasps and jerks toward Keith, and Keith’s eyes widen. “Oh, Shiro,” he says. “Beautiful. So fucking beautiful. You’re the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen.”
Shiro whines, pressing close against Keith, and Keith drops his head back for Shiro to suck kisses against his throat. Keith’s hips twitch and Shiro groans, biting down onto Keith’s neck and making him moan and grind against him. He slips his knee between Keith’s legs, and Keith jerks, tossing his head back against the wall.
Soothing his tongue against Keith’s neck, he says, “I want to see you, baby. Want to run my hands all over your skin. Can I take these off?” He runs his hands over Keith’s sides, pressing over his clothes.
Keith moans. “Yes, fuck yes, Shiro, please.”
Shiro doesn’t need further prompting. Continuing to kiss Keith’s neck, he slides his hands up Keith’s chest, slipping the jacket from his shoulders and placing it on the second hook by the door. Then he drags the shirt from Keith’s torso, dropping it to the floor in a wet heap atop his own.
He presses his forehead against Keith’s and wraps his hands around Keith’s waist, squeezing. He closes his eyes and breathes deep, reveling in Keith. Of the feel of his body where they’re pressed together, warm skin beckoning Shiro forward like a hearth fire. Of the way his hips feel in Shiro’s hands, so strong and so delicate. Of his breaths, ghosting against Shiro’s lips. All of it screaming Keith’s okay, Keith’s alive.
He feels two of Keith’s fingers slip into the waistband of his jeans.
He opens his eyes to find Keith gazing at him, open and reverent and full of love. Shiro knows that look. Has seen it on Keith’s face countless times.
Love. Is that what this is? Is love what he has seen in Keith’s eyes this whole time? It feels true. It must be true. It is the truest thing in the entire universe.
“I love you,” he says.
Keith makes a noise, a gasping, wanting thing, and he presses himself even closer against Shiro as his eyelids flutter.
It goes straight to Shiro’s cock, and he drops a hand to Keith’s ass, pressing him forward and grinding their hips together.
Keith lets out a long, “Fuuuuuuck, Shiro, Shiro, god, Shiro. I love you. I love you, too.”
Shiro gasps. It isn’t the first time he’s heard Keith say those words. But they were words said in pain. In terror. And they came with a claim that Shiro was Keith’s brother, not his lover.
To hear them said like this with Keith wrapped around him, with Keith moving sweetly against him, with Keith looking at Shiro the way he always has, as if Shiro is every star in his universe…it cracks something in Shiro.
It feels as though he has loved Keith forever. He has loved Keith forever. For as long as he has known him. Shiro has loved every version of Keith. He has held Keith’s heart in his hands, and has let Keith hold his heart in turn.
But this moment is more than that. It is more than merely handing Keith his heart. It feels as if his heart is bleeding out of him and into Keith. Making a home in Keith’s chest where it will stay until both of them are naught but dust between the stars. Keith is everything, everything. Shiro is in love with him.
He presses Keith against him and kisses him. Kisses him as if this is their last moment on earth. And Keith kisses him back as if Shiro is the thing Keith has waited for his entire life.
Shiro lifts him off the floor and Keith clings to him, wrapping his legs around Shiro’s waist and moaning into his mouth. It’s Shiro’s own personal paradise.
He walks them backward, keeping one hand on the wall, the other on Keith’s ass to hold them together as he roams through the hallway to Keith’s room and the tiny cot within.
Having reached the bed, he sits down, Keith now sitting so sweetly in his lap. Keith’s hands hover over Shiro’s crotch and he says, “C-Can I?”
Shiro strokes his face, kisses his nose, mouths over his cheek to whisper in his ear, “Yes, baby. Yes. Of course you can.”
Keith shivers halfway through and Shiro wonders aloud, “Baby?”
Keith purrs and drops his head back as his hands deftly undo Shiro’s pants. He’s bearing his neck, Shiro realizes. He’s done it several times, and if Shiro’s hunch is correct, then it’s an offering. Keith offering himself to Shiro, possibly as a mate, in whatever way Shiro wants him.
Shiro wants everything with him, and he makes a mental note to research Galra mating behavior. They’ll get there, but for now, all Shiro has to go on is Keith. It’s a good thing that he’s always been great at reading Keith.
But Keith slides off his lap before Shiro can kiss his neck again, and Shiro bemoans the lost opportunity. Keith’s hands find his waistband and he says, “Want these off. Can I?”
Shiro strokes his cheek. Somewhere during the ride, Keith lost his hair tie and now his black hair drapes in lovely wet waves over his shoulders, leaving wet trails across his chest. He’s heartbreakingly beautiful. “Anything, Keith,” he says. “You can have anything. I’m yours. Only ever yours.”
A growl rips through the room, and Shiro is a little surprised to know it came from Keith. Keith has shifted in front of him, his eyes now glowing gold. His nails are claws where they grip Shiro’s thighs.
“Don’t. Don’t say that,” Keith pants, seemingly fighting something within himself. “I can’t, I…fuck. The things I want to do to you, Shiro…I can’t…” He trails off.
Shiro strokes his cheek again. “Can’t what, baby?”
Keith melts, purring and nuzzling against Shiro’s hand on his cheek. He closes his eyes, and Shiro brings up his other hand to cradle Keith’s face.
“Can’t what, Keith?” he repeats. “You can tell me, sweetheart. You can tell me anything.”
Keith’s eyes flick open and he looks as though he wants to devour Shiro. He says, “I don’t wanna scare you. I…I wouldn’t be gentle right now, and you deserve me to be gentle with you. But all I want is to make you mine. To be so deep inside you that the only word you know is my name.”
Shiro’s mouth falls open in a groan, and he struggles not to close them as his eyes roll back. “Keith,” he gasps. “Please, please. I want that too. Make me yours. I am yours.”
Keith shudders and whatever leash he had on himself snaps at Shiro’s words. He surges forward, capturing Shiro’s lips in a searing kiss and all but tearing his pants off him.
It’s sexy as hell, and Shiro jerks his hips in Keith’s hands, groaning into Keith’s mouth. Keith’s tongue licks at Shiro’s lower lip, and then the delicate tips of his fangs are gliding over it, dragging it into his mouth.
Shiro moans, his eyes rolling back, and he grips Keith’s ass to roll their hips together, but finds Keith’s wet pants are still in the way. Shiro grunts in displeasure at this discovery, and Keith pulls off, his pupils constricting in worry.
“What is it,” Keith says. “Did I hurt you?” He looks distraught, and Shiro immediately presses a hand to his cheek in comfort.
“No, no, baby no. You’re perfect,” he soothes, watching Keith’s eyes dilate again. “I was just disappointed you’re not naked.”
Keith’s pupils go very wide. Then he stands up and rips his pants off. Shiro’s jaw drops and he feels his face flame. Something in him goes molten and he moans. It’s a high, needy sound. A sound he’s never heard himself make before. For a second he feels embarrassed. Until he sees Keith’s face.
Keith looks at Shiro like he wants to drown in him, consume him, to take him and fuse with him so thoroughly that they will never be the same again.
His pupils are so wide, and he looks wild and wrecked, his soaked hair clinging to his neck, his lithe, beautiful body glistening with rainwater. His mouth hangs open and Shiro can see fangs gleaming within. His hungry eyes are golden and they light Shiro on fire. Keith’s hands are trembling where they hang at his sides.
“Keith,” Shiro chokes out. “I need you.”
Keith lunges, covering Shiro’s body, slim hips sliding between Shiro’s legs and pinning him to the bed. Shiro moans and Keith bends down and licks into his mouth, consuming him. One of his hands glides up Shiro’s leg, hitching it up around his hip as the other explores Shiro’s body, slipping between them and caressing his torso.
Then Keith pulls back from the kiss. He tips Shiro’s chin up and drags his nose down Shiro’s neck, breathing deep. He pauses at the base of Shiro’s throat, and Shiro can feel his pulse pounding against Keith’s lips.
Keith sucks in a breath, slow and audible, as if he’s tasting Shiro. Then he lets out a deep, contented sound that is half growl, half purr, and Shiro melts into safety and warmth.
Keith’s hand drops from Shiro’s leg, and then both hands are on Shiro’s waist, gripping so tight he can feel Keith’s claws gentling against his skin. “Mine,” Keith growls, against his throat.
Shiro sobs, and Keith raises his head to press his forehead against Shiro’s. His gaze is inexorable. “Mine to love,” he says. “Mine to protect. Mine.”
Shiro feels tears slip from his eyes, and he jerks his head in a little nod to Keith. “Yours,” he gasps. “Yours, Keith. And you’re mine.”
Keith’s hips press against him and he whines, and Shiro realizes even now he’s holding something back. Shiro raises a hand to his face, locking their gazes. He whispers, “Keith, I am yours. Show me. Claim me. Fuck me.”
Keith’s entire body trembles in a growl so ferocious, and his hands flex hard enough that Shiro thinks his claws will cut him. They never do. “Shiro,” Keith says, desperately. “I love you.”
Then he tilts his head and bites Shiro’s neck. It’s hard, nearly breaking the skin, and Shiro moans at the pressure. Then Keith’s tongue is licking against his neck, soothing the bite, before licking down Shiro’s body.
He kisses him everywhere, mouthing across his broad chest, his arms, dropping tender kisses over his freckles, his scars, tracing the shape of his collarbones with his tongue, sucking bruises onto his pecs, his ribs, his hips.
Keith’s hands grip his waist so tight, and Shiro marvels at the feeling. Of Keith’s long, nimble hands, so slim and delicate against Shiro’s muscular waist, yet so strong. Keith is holding him so surely, so possessively, and Shiro knows with every fiber of his being that he can trust these hands with his entire life.
His entire body relaxes and he feels like he’s floating, safe and held within the cradle of Keith’s body.
Keith kisses his hip and he looks down. Keith is staring at him with predatory focus, his eyes burning with devotion and love, and Shiro smiles at him, trying to convey every bit of his desire, his love, his utter trust in him.
A tremor runs through Keith at that look, and he blinks slowly. Then he says, “I’m gonna make you feel so good, Shiro.” Then he leans forward and licks a stripe up Shiro’s cock.
Shiro flexes, pushing his hips toward Keith’s mouth. He wants more. He needs more. But Keith screws his hips to the bed and grins, feral and dangerous and fucking gorgeous, and growls, “Patience, Takashi.”
“FUCK,” Shiro grunts as his entire body twitches. He can’t even spare a thought for the fact that he apparently has a kink for Keith giving him orders, and another one for Keith saying his name, because Keith is lapping at his cockhead and Shiro’s eyes are rolling back into his skull.
It’s fucking amazing, and Shiro wants to thrust forward, but he can’t, he can’t. He cannot move an inch as Keith tips his head forward and begins a slow, agonizing slide down Shiro’s cock.
Shiro lets out a broken groan as Keith reaches the base and purrs, eyes riveted on Shiro where Shiro pants down at him. “Holy. Fuck. Keith,” he gasps out.
Keith blinks slowly and swallows around Shiro, making him twitch again. Then Keith starts to move. He pulls back slowly, sucking Shiro so tightly his eyes roll backward again. He drags his fangs softly against the cockhead and Shiro whimpers. Then he drops his head back down in earnest, sucking Shiro down again in a rapid slide.
He bobs up and down like that, Shiro’s cock hitting the back of his purring throat on every thrust. The purring is sensational, sending soft vibrations running up his dick and torturing him with the delicacy.
He can feel Keith grinding against the bed, and it drives Shiro absolutely insane to know that Keith is this turned on just from sucking Shiro’s cock.
He hears a snap and looks down to see Keith slicking up his fingers one handed. Shiro’s abs flex seeing the dexterity of Keith’s hands. He can now add hand kink to to his ‘newly discovered’ list.
He’s expecting to feel fingers against his hole when Keith surprises him by pulling off of his dick. Shiro whines at the loss of contact, but Keith’s hand is smoothing over his hip, and the other is smoothing over his dick. Then the hand on his hip slides downward, gripping Shiro’s thigh and hoisting it over Keith’s shoulder. Shiro doesn’t have time to speak before Keith’s tongue is laving over his hole.
He clenches hard, letting out a yell. Keith’s tongue just passes over him again, slowly tasting him. Keith tilts his head, lips ghosting over Shiro’s balls, and he breathes deep, pupils constricting as he takes in Shiro’s scent and purrs.
Shiro has the urge to cover his eyes at the almost embarrassing intimacy of it. He feels raw. Completely exposed and naked, not just by their position and lack of clothes. It’s like his entire soul is bared for Keith. Every shadow, every scar, every dark and painful part of him, all the soft places where he fears to be seen.
Keith presses a kiss to his thigh, eyes glowing like the moon, and whispers, “Takashi.”
It goes through Shiro like a bell. It’s the same way Keith always says his name. With reverence. As if it is a prayer and a benediction. But that tone, combined with the use of his first name, makes Shiro feel young and desperate, and so held, because the way Keith is looking at him shines light into all the spaces between his armor, lights up every crack and dark corner inside him, filling them with warmth and safety and love.
Shiro blinks and feels tears slip from the corners of his eyes, running down his cheeks and onto his neck. Keith looks at him and says, "A’nah Si’laad."
Shiro doesn’t know what it means, but it feels like a vow and he nods. Then Keith gives him a small smile and turns his head to run his teeth along the inside of Shiro’s thigh.
Shiro trembles and his dick twitches in Keith’s hand. Keith begins to stroke him again, and then trails his lips up Shiro’s thigh. He presses a wet kiss against Shiro’s hole and sucks. It’s filthy, and Shiro’s leg flexes over Keith’s shoulder as he groans.
His body is craving Keith’s tongue inside him now, and he presses Keith as close as he can, using his leg as leverage. He feels Keith’s nose press up against his balls, and Keith lets out that growling purr again as he opens his mouth and slips the tip of his tongue inside.
Shiro bucks, and the force of it actually throws Keith backwards. Shiro regrets it instantly as Keith stares at him in shock. But then Keith grins like a wild thing and then he moves, so fast Shiro can hardly see him. He feels hands on his knees as they’re forced up to his shoulders. And then Keith’s tongue is diving between his cheeks and feasting on him.
Shiro screams at the feeling of Keith’s tongue slipping all the way inside. His eyes slip closed and he luxuriates in the feeling. Keith’s hands are on his ass now, digging into the meat of his thighs as he spreads Shiro’s cheeks wide enough to fit inside.
His lips suck against Shiro’s skin, and his tongue pumps in and out, fucking hard and deep. Shiro weeps at the pleasure, throwing an arm over his eyes and sobbing. Keith’s hands flex against him and then he’s purring again, and Shiro can feel the vibrations inside him this time, and precome spurts down his dick.
Fuck, it’s so good, and Shiro wants to come, except he doesn’t want to come, because he wants to come on Keith’s dick like Keith promised him, but oh, it’s so good, so good.
Gripping his control with both hands, Shiro grabs a fistful of Keith’s hair and pulls, dragging Keith’s face away and eliciting a loud slurp as Keith’s mouth pops off his ass.
They stare at each other. Keith’s chest is heaving, and he’s flushed a pretty lavender color from his face down to his nipples. His lips are red and wet and a bit of saliva sticks to his chin. He doesn’t blink as he slowly slips his tongue out and licks his lips. “I could eat you forever,” he says.
It makes Shiro keen, and he chokes out, “I want you to. Stars, I want you to. But I want you inside me, Keith. I want to come with you for the first time on your cock.”
Keith growls, furiously nodding his head. “Yes. Shiro, yes.”
Then he’s gripping Shiro’s hand, pressing a kiss to Shiro’s knuckles and and wrapping it around his knee. “Hold this for me, sweetheart,” he says.
Then he pours more lube on his fingers and gently circles Shiro’s hole. Shiro shivers at the feeling of claws against his tender skin, and Keith must notice it because he presses a kiss to Shiro’s knee where it rests atop his shoulder.
“I could never hurt you, Shiro,” he vows. As he speaks, Shiro can feel the claws shrinking. Huh, he marvels. He didn’t know they were retractable. “You’re gonna feel so fucking good, sweetheart.” And then he’s slipping two fingers inside.
Shiro tilts his head back and moans. He’s already relaxed from Keith’s tongue, and the stretch from his fingers is like heaven. Shiro craves more.
He rolls his hips against Keith, and Keith smiles against his thigh, opening his mouth and sucking another bruise onto his skin. Shiro twitches this time, and Keith presses his fingers as deep as they will go and rubs them over Shiro’s prostate.
“Fuck!” Shiro clenches hard, and Keith moves his fingers in and out, stretching the outside of his hole and rubbing mercilessly over that sensitive spot inside him.
Shiro whimpers as Keith inserts a third finger, and he trembles so hard he knows he’ll come if Keith keeps this up.
“Keith,” he gasps out. “Stop, stop. I’m gonna come.”
Keith immediately withdraws his fingers and Shiro moans at the loss even though he asked for it. Keith gently lowers Shiro’s leg from around his neck, keeping his hand wrapped around Shiro’s ankle and soothing at his hip with the other.
“Baby, please,” Shiro begs. He’s never begged before, but he finds he doesn’t care. He’d do anything to get Keith inside him right now. “Please, Keith. I need you inside me.”
Keith’s eyes flash and then he’s kissing Shiro tenderly, lips trailing from his mouth to his cheek to his ear. He whispers, “Shiro. I am yours.”
And then his hands are wrapping around Shiro’s thighs and he’s lifting him off the bed.
Shiro instinctively wraps his arms around Keith, and then his mouth drops open. Because Keith is holding him. There’s a sound moving through the room, a long, high, whining that Shiro belatedly realizes is coming from him.
Keith is holding him.
Shiro has not been picked up since before he was ten. He blinks down at Keith, stunned. He knew Keith was strong but this, experiencing his strength in this way…it is something else, and Shiro didn’t know it was even possible to be more turned on than he was already, but he is. He presses their foreheads together and moans Keith’s name.
“Fuck, Shiro,” Keith grunts. “I love it when you say my name. I’m gonna make you scream it, baby.”
Then he feels hands under his ass and Keith is pressing Shiro’s back up against the wall. “Hold onto my shoulders,” Keith says. “And lift your right leg.”
Shiro does so, and he feels Keith’s arm slipping underneath, Shiro’s knee coming to rest against his elbow. “Good. Now the other one,” Keith says.
When they’re settled, both of Shiro’s legs are draped over Keith’s arms and Keith’s hands are gripping tight around Shiro’s hips. Then Keith shifts them so that their chests are pressed together, close enough to kiss. Keith smiles at him.
“I’m gonna need your help getting my dick inside you,” he says.
“Mhmm, yes baby,” Shiro says, nuzzling his nose against Keith’s and reaching down behind him to grip Keith’s cock. It’s slicked up already, and Shiro guides it toward him until the tip is pressed against his hole.
They stay like that, just for a second, basking in the feeling of being pressed against each other as close as they can get in this moment before becoming one. Then Shiro presses the tip inside and says, “Keith, fuck me.”
Keith growls his name, and then he’s thrusting up inside Shiro, sinking to the hilt in a long, glorious slide. Shiro feels his back arch and his toes curl as his body stretches to welcome Keith.
It’s the best thing he’s ever felt, and Shiro marvels for a second that, in a way, this first time with Keith is his first time ever. This body has never been touched this way. Has never known the blissful entrance of a lover. Has never felt the primal ecstasy of fucking someone you love.
Shiro digs his nails into Keith’s shoulder and groans, rolling his hips in little thrusts against Keith. It’s all he can manage in this position.
Keith’s fingers stroke against his ribs, and his pupils are so wide where they drink in Shiro. Their noses are still pressed together and he can feel Keith panting against his mouth. “Baby,” Shiro says. “Make me come.”
Keith’s eyes flutter as he growls, “Yes, Shiro,” and then he snaps his hips back and thrusts up into Shiro, hard. It sends Shiro’s body rocking backward, and then Keith’s hands roughly pull them back together, Keith’s thighs hitting Shiro’s in a slap, and his dick nailing Shiro’s prostate.
Shiro screams Keith’s name, and Keith does it again, using the leverage of their position and his hands on Shiro’s waist to bring them together in hard, deep thrusts that soon have Shiro shaking and crying.
The angle has thrown him back and his chest is now diagonal to Keith’s. Shiro has no leverage at all anymore, and his entire weight is in Keith’s hands, but Keith doesn’t even shake. He just keeps fucking roughly into Shiro, voice wholly gone to a growl as he chants, “Mine, Shiro, mine.”
Shiro’s entire body is molten with bliss, and he feels his balls tighten as he clenches around Keith, pulling him deeper and deeper into his body. He never wants this to end.
“Baby, kiss me,” Shiro begs, his voice wrecked.
Keith growls and surges forward, pressing Shiro against the wall and trapping him there as he grinds into Shiro and slips his tongue into his mouth.
Shiro can barely kiss him back. He’s wholly wrecked, his brain completely taken over by the ecstasy of Keith’s cock inside him, mercilessly rolling into him and dragging over and over against his prostate.
Shiro’s abs clench and he shudders, and then he’s fluttering around Keith, and Keith, feeling Shiro’s impending orgasm, moves his hips even faster, screwing hard and deep inside him, erasing every last bit of space between them. He bites Shiro’s neck again and then Shiro is coming, untouched between them, as Keith fucks furiously into him.
Shiro lets out a long moan and closes his eyes, reveling in his orgasm and the feeling of Keith milking it on his dick.
Then Keith is kissing him and pulling them away from the wall. He moves over to the bed, Shiro just barely aware in his fuck-drunk haze. Keith lays Shiro down on the bed and slips his cock out.
Shiro now realizes Keith is still hard and he wants to scream at Keith to put it back in and come inside him, but two strokes and Keith is coming into his hand, staring down at Shiro with awe and lust and love.
Keith shudders as he comes, and immediately the purple flush begins to fade from his skin, instead turning red. His fangs shrink, his claws disappear, and the gold in his eyes dissipates until all that’s left is that impossible violet Shiro loves so much.
All Shiro can manage is, “Keith?”
Keith pants as he stares at him, chest heaving. And then he says, “Hold on,” and crawls off the bed.
He returns shortly with water and a wet washcloth. He sets the water on the nightstand and gently wipes Shiro down, soothing over the bruises he bit into Shiro’s skin and cleaning between his legs.
Then he quickly wipes his dick off and throws the washcloth on the floor. He leans forward and wraps one arm around Shiro’s shoulder, the other around his hip, as he heaves Shiro into a sitting position. Shiro blinks as Keith passes him the glass of water.
Shiro is immediately grateful and chugs the entire glass. He hadn’t realized how thirsty he was until right now.
When he’s done, he passes the glass to Keith and lays back down. After a second, Keith is following him, sliding his leg between Shiro’s and throwing an arm across his chest. Keith stares down at him, satiated and happy.
Shiro smiles up at him and strokes a piece of hair away from his face. “Baby,” he says. “That was amazing.”
Keith smirks. “Told you I’d make you scream my name.”
Shiro sighs in bliss. “No one’s ever fucked me like that in my life,” he says.
“And no one ever will,” Keith vows, running his hand up Shiro’s side and making him shiver. “I’m the only one that can do this to you. The only one that can make you feel like this. You’re mine. I love you, and you’re mine.”
Keith’s voice is so tender by the end, and Shiro melts under his attention. He’s the luckiest person in the entire universe to have Keith’s love.
Then he remembers something. “You didn’t come inside me,” he says.
Keith’s cheeks heat and he nods, looking shy. “Yeah, um…” he breaks off. Sits up. Looks away.
Shiro waits.
When Keith looks back at him, he’s contrite. “That’s because I wanted to mate you, and I don’t know if I’d have been able to stop myself if I came inside you.”
Shiro frowns. “Mate me?”
Keith nods. “Yeah, uh. Galra can form mate bonds, and we think I’d be able to do it with you. I mean, I already kind of have one. I’m bonded to you already, but I haven’t claimed you physically, and I won’t unless you want me to.”
“I think I probably will want to,” Shiro says. “I just don’t know what it is.”
Keith’s shoulders drop and he purrs, contentment radiating off him. He strokes a hand up Shiro’s leg.
“It’s like marriage,” he says, quiet. “Except more. It’s biological and you can’t break it without tearing your soul in half. Everyone would know when-“ he breaks off. “Well, I guess humans wouldn’t know, but Galra would, and most other aliens I think. When they see you or me or us together. They’d know. That I’m yours, and you’re mine, and we belong to each other. That to fuck with one of us is to fuck with both of us. That a thousand armies couldn’t keep us away from each other.”
He trails off, and Shiro smiles at him, threading a hand into his hair and pulling him down so their faces are just inches apart.
“Well,” Shiro says. “I think that sounds perfect, considering I am yours, and you are mine, and we do belong together, and I would fight a thousand armies for you.”
Keith gasps and he blinks, eyes going disbelieving in that way Shiro has seen a million times when he shows Keith any particular kindness that Keith doesn’t think he deserves.
“Baby,” he soothes, raising his other hand to stroke over Keith’s scar. “I love you. I will never stop loving you. I would marry you tomorrow. And I would be honored to be your mate.”
Keith’s brows draw together and his whole face scrunches up adorably. His mouth wobbles and he shuts his eyes as the tears fall.
Shiro pulls him close, tucking Keith’s face underneath his chin and stroking his hair. Keith shakes a little in his arms, sniffling against his neck, and Shiro rubs his hand over Keith’s back in soothing circles.
After a few minutes, Keith composes himself and peeks up at Shiro. He looks young and rumpled and cute, and Shiro leans forward and kisses his little nose.
Keith blinks and twitches his face like a rabbit and Shiro screams internally. Adorable!
He massages Keith’s scalp with his fingers and Keith closes his eyes with a little purr. He luxuriates in it for a second, and then his eyes blink open. He stares at Shiro, hope glowing like an ember.
“You really mean that?” he whispers, as if afraid to hear Shiro’s response.
Shiro smiles at him with all the joy in his heart. “Yes, baby. I do. And, I mean, if we’re going to be mated, do you think you’d like be my boyfriend, too?”