[ at some point, the novelty of seeing keith’s ass will wear off. at some point, shiro will be able to receive a glimpse of two perfectly round ass cheeks and not almost swallow his tongue. today, they are not at that point. shiro makes a soft noise in his throat, part choking and part protesting, although a good portion of him does not, in fact, protest to any of this. he’s seen keith’s bare ass a few times now and oddly enough, the twin strips of fabric make this more obscene. he thinks, maybe, this is on par with keith stripped naked and bent over his bed. the underwear accentuates the curves and the size, giving each cheek a lift that makes them look plumper than he remembers.
and shiro remembers, frequently and in detail, especially when he’s alone in his cot, staring at the ceiling.
here, he doesn’t stare at the ceiling and he’s trying to convince himself to. instead, he drinks in the eyeful for as long as he’s able, up until the moment keith twists back around. shiro, remembering himself, lifts his gaze, though it’s slow with a dazed sort of quality. it takes him another moment, but he gets there eventually: keith is putting himself down.
sort of.
at the very least, he’s downplaying any affect he has here and shiro is tempted, as he always is, to revert back to the safety of their preestablished boundaries. don’t acknowledge the attraction, don’t spell it out for keith, don’t try – where has that gotten him these past weeks?
he draws in a breath and releases it slow, finding a softened smile as his lungs empty. he’s going to do this. he’s going to try. he wants to. ]
You look good, Keith.
[ he holds keith’s gaze and then deliberately lets it trail down, sweeping slow and approvingly from eyes to chest to hips to thighs. ]
The outfit is… what it is, but… [ and right back up the same way to find keith’s eyes. ] You’re hot. [ and just to be sure it’s spelled out enough for keith to understand: ] I think you’re hot.
no subject
and shiro remembers, frequently and in detail, especially when he’s alone in his cot, staring at the ceiling.
here, he doesn’t stare at the ceiling and he’s trying to convince himself to. instead, he drinks in the eyeful for as long as he’s able, up until the moment keith twists back around. shiro, remembering himself, lifts his gaze, though it’s slow with a dazed sort of quality. it takes him another moment, but he gets there eventually: keith is putting himself down.
sort of.
at the very least, he’s downplaying any affect he has here and shiro is tempted, as he always is, to revert back to the safety of their preestablished boundaries. don’t acknowledge the attraction, don’t spell it out for keith, don’t try – where has that gotten him these past weeks?
he draws in a breath and releases it slow, finding a softened smile as his lungs empty. he’s going to do this. he’s going to try. he wants to. ]
You look good, Keith.
[ he holds keith’s gaze and then deliberately lets it trail down, sweeping slow and approvingly from eyes to chest to hips to thighs. ]
The outfit is… what it is, but… [ and right back up the same way to find keith’s eyes. ] You’re hot. [ and just to be sure it’s spelled out enough for keith to understand: ] I think you’re hot.