[ keith bends and shiro finds footing with the frost covered ground, lamenting the loss, even if keith tries to soften the disconnect by giving him a few kisses across his face. treat him perfect, like he deserves? in another time, in another mind frame, shiro would have an inner commentary on that. his concept of what it is he deserves has vastly changed in recent times. it’s the sense of responsibility and the ever lingering effects of unresolved trauma that have him questioning the quality of happiness he’s allowed to seek out for himself. thankfully, there’s a mental barrier right now, blocking his access to mood ruining thoughts. so shiro, blissful and eager to please keith, is obedient and sweet, bobbling his head like that is an adequate answer to keith’s statement. yes, yes, yes, okay, do that – is the extent of that nodding, eyes alight throughout to give him a puppy-like earnestness to be a good boy.
he watches first, simply standing there as keith fights at his armor. arguably, being a good boy would involve him aiding keith in ridding layers, but it’s somewhat fascinating – and delightful – to watch keith wriggle out of his chest plate with such an obvious, exasperated air about him. not that keith spends all that much time on himself. one piece down and then keith is in his space again, this time pinching the zipper and roughly yanking it down.
zip! the vest splits apart and while shiro has the long-sleeved undershirt, the sense of exposure runs high, making him a little dizzy with the headrush. he’s yet to trail his gaze away to give a genuine surveillance of the area and who may be around to see this; he only has eyes for keith. ]
You’re impatient. [ not even the slightest hint of a reprimand can be found in his voice. it’s too breathless and wanton. ] Fuck, me too.
[ which translates to: the bed is indeed too far and the layers are far too time consuming to deal with. which in turn, leads to: shiro picking out a patch of snow, powdery and freshly left not more than a day ago, stepping over to it as he fumbles with the fastenings of his pants. nothing removed just yet, but fly open to show the waistband of his boxer-briefs, shiro sits himself down in that snow pile. it’s chilly, an immediate shiver running up his spine and making him work his jaw in a clench of his teeth. but then he’s sighing and relaxing, reclining back on his elbows. ]
I’ve thought about it before. [ off and on, never too deeply or confidently, so it isn’t a stretch to believe: ] I know you’ll be better than anything my mind’s come up with.
[ keith likes his nips; shiro knows he does, especially with those greedy touches not two minutes ago. so he grips the hem of his long-sleeve, simply pulling the front up to his armpits and collarbones, putting himself on display in what he hopes is an enticing image. ]
and w a wave of my magic rp wand, the grass turns into snow
he watches first, simply standing there as keith fights at his armor. arguably, being a good boy would involve him aiding keith in ridding layers, but it’s somewhat fascinating – and delightful – to watch keith wriggle out of his chest plate with such an obvious, exasperated air about him. not that keith spends all that much time on himself. one piece down and then keith is in his space again, this time pinching the zipper and roughly yanking it down.
zip! the vest splits apart and while shiro has the long-sleeved undershirt, the sense of exposure runs high, making him a little dizzy with the headrush. he’s yet to trail his gaze away to give a genuine surveillance of the area and who may be around to see this; he only has eyes for keith. ]
You’re impatient. [ not even the slightest hint of a reprimand can be found in his voice. it’s too breathless and wanton. ] Fuck, me too.
[ which translates to: the bed is indeed too far and the layers are far too time consuming to deal with. which in turn, leads to: shiro picking out a patch of snow, powdery and freshly left not more than a day ago, stepping over to it as he fumbles with the fastenings of his pants. nothing removed just yet, but fly open to show the waistband of his boxer-briefs, shiro sits himself down in that snow pile. it’s chilly, an immediate shiver running up his spine and making him work his jaw in a clench of his teeth. but then he’s sighing and relaxing, reclining back on his elbows. ]
I’ve thought about it before. [ off and on, never too deeply or confidently, so it isn’t a stretch to believe: ] I know you’ll be better than anything my mind’s come up with.
[ keith likes his nips; shiro knows he does, especially with those greedy touches not two minutes ago. so he grips the hem of his long-sleeve, simply pulling the front up to his armpits and collarbones, putting himself on display in what he hopes is an enticing image. ]
Just give me direction, sir. How do you want me?