[ shiro’s love, hate relationship with the door continues. the anonymity it secures is, of course, a wonderful thing, and something shiro is quickly, even concerningly, becoming attached to. but on the other side of this equation, shiro is, once again, hindered. he can’t mash his face up against skin and bury in. he can’t squeeze both cheeks and pull them wide as he tilts his chin and grazes his teeth, just barely, at that swollen rim. worse yet, he can’t push his hole wider with the fat width of his tongue. the best he manages is stretching his togue to length and prodding at anonymous’ hole. he laps and strains and laps some more, occasionally pausing to draw his tongue back in for a swallow. he swirls around on the next pass and is rewarded with another almost there word.
again, something about the sound of it pings a sense of familiarity. he’s heard that voice before; before everything they’ve done here and everything they muffled through at the library. curiosity is hard to escape, suspicion even more so. both together have his mind running while his tongue continues to play over flush, sticky skin. it’s on the third circular swipe over his asshole that shiro thinks keith, only to promptly banish the thought. no, not keith. he can’t be keith. what are the fucking odds of the two of them winding up together like this? it’s absolute blasphemy to even suggest it.
it’s just… every yell and bitten off scream he’s heard, carries a pitch similar to things caught over the comms. and the soft, overwhelmed groans? the panting? sparring used to be a fairly regular thing between them. shiro’s familiar with the way keith sounds when he’s worn thin, yet riled up on adrenaline, which isn’t too far off sex quite honestly. so it could be…?
no. first, the dick. second, the willingness to engage anonymously. third, giving up his ass like this is never something keith would do. and finally? he probably doesn’t actually even sound like keith; shiro’s been subbing keith in as anonymous a handful of times now. once is an accident, twice is pushing a boundary. anything more than that is at risk of becoming a habit and shiro can’t afford to go down that route. with this in mind, he tells himself not to be disappointed when anonymous abruptly pushes forward to fall out of reach.
the whine still slips loose. it draws out for one, two beats before shiro remembers himself and abruptly silences the embarrassing sound. nonetheless, it doesn’t deter him. his mouth is still in line with the gloryhole and upon realizing this, he makes a point to smile, wide and toothy, just in case anonymous chooses to glance his way. again, he holds position for one, two and then he scoots to the side, all trace of him disappearing from view.
so it’s over then, huh? already, disappointment fills his chest and drags his shoulders down. he busies himself by getting his pants up and over to his hips, everything tucked and covered as it should be. his next move is to wait, right? let anonymous gather himself and head out. wait five minutes or so, then get this broken door open and beeline it back to his cube. it’s the safe bet. but listening to anonymous’ slow shifting on the other side of the door, shiro’s gaze wanders to the note. he tries, for the briefest of moments, to tell himself it’s better if he doesn’t. that he shouldn’t be becoming attached to this sort of thing but…
he grabs the note and pen, writing out: ]
I want to see you again
[ wait. fuck. ]
You know what I mean Can I contact you again? Same place as before
[ so this is who he’s become, huh? some poor schmuck asking to go steady with a complete stranger. he should be ashamed of himself, but he isn’t, not when he glances higher on the note to stare at good boy. with that, he pushes the note through the gloryhole, fluttering the paper around to draw the eye. ]
There's a lot of thoughts about shiro and keith going on here. v bff.
again, something about the sound of it pings a sense of familiarity. he’s heard that voice before; before everything they’ve done here and everything they muffled through at the library. curiosity is hard to escape, suspicion even more so. both together have his mind running while his tongue continues to play over flush, sticky skin. it’s on the third circular swipe over his asshole that shiro thinks keith, only to promptly banish the thought. no, not keith. he can’t be keith. what are the fucking odds of the two of them winding up together like this? it’s absolute blasphemy to even suggest it.
it’s just… every yell and bitten off scream he’s heard, carries a pitch similar to things caught over the comms. and the soft, overwhelmed groans? the panting? sparring used to be a fairly regular thing between them. shiro’s familiar with the way keith sounds when he’s worn thin, yet riled up on adrenaline, which isn’t too far off sex quite honestly. so it could be…?
no. first, the dick. second, the willingness to engage anonymously. third, giving up his ass like this is never something keith would do. and finally? he probably doesn’t actually even sound like keith; shiro’s been subbing keith in as anonymous a handful of times now. once is an accident, twice is pushing a boundary. anything more than that is at risk of becoming a habit and shiro can’t afford to go down that route. with this in mind, he tells himself not to be disappointed when anonymous abruptly pushes forward to fall out of reach.
the whine still slips loose. it draws out for one, two beats before shiro remembers himself and abruptly silences the embarrassing sound. nonetheless, it doesn’t deter him. his mouth is still in line with the gloryhole and upon realizing this, he makes a point to smile, wide and toothy, just in case anonymous chooses to glance his way. again, he holds position for one, two and then he scoots to the side, all trace of him disappearing from view.
so it’s over then, huh? already, disappointment fills his chest and drags his shoulders down. he busies himself by getting his pants up and over to his hips, everything tucked and covered as it should be. his next move is to wait, right? let anonymous gather himself and head out. wait five minutes or so, then get this broken door open and beeline it back to his cube. it’s the safe bet. but listening to anonymous’ slow shifting on the other side of the door, shiro’s gaze wanders to the note. he tries, for the briefest of moments, to tell himself it’s better if he doesn’t. that he shouldn’t be becoming attached to this sort of thing but…
he grabs the note and pen, writing out: ]
I want to see you again
[ wait. fuck. ]
You know what I mean
Can I contact you again?
Same place as before
[ so this is who he’s become, huh? some poor schmuck asking to go steady with a complete stranger. he should be ashamed of himself, but he isn’t, not when he glances higher on the note to stare at good boy. with that, he pushes the note through the gloryhole, fluttering the paper around to draw the eye. ]