[ so he likes that. what a pair they make: two ex-military men, thriving on one very familiar word. how stereotypical of them. later, when shiro is in full range of his mind and capable, again, of feeling something akin to shame, he’ll grin embarrassingly and tut about how easily they both feed into the very unoriginal authority kink. for now, however, shiro only feels an overwhelming rush of satisfaction. he’s pleased keith. he’s given keith something he wants and gained his approval. he’s been a good boy. encouraged both by that and the fact that keith is now straddling his knees, leaning into him, shiro welcomes him in with a smile and a tip of his head, eagerly meeting that press.
there isn’t any resistance to keith’s order, either. acceptance is an odd reaction for shiro; he isn’t the type to expose himself in public, but here, he does it readily. so eager to meet keith’s expectation, shiro gives up the support of his elbows to fumble at his waistband. he has strong abs; they flex and harden, right there on full display, keeping shiro in the reclined lean despite his arms abandoning their support. however, the moment shiro pulls the waistband down to pull out his cock, it’s a different story.
his hands are cold. he hisses through the initial wrap of his snow chilled fingers, abdominals spasming and body teetering, his galra arm knocking back to catch himself with that elbow digging deep into the snow. the weakened, borderline uncomfortable feeling isn’t helped by keith’s equally cold fingertips that now tease and pinch at his nipples. goosebumps arise all along his body, sending a shiver down his spine that expands and overtakes, making the whole of him tense with a clenching of his teeth. keith is there though, with a wet, warm mouth, lips teasing and tongue soothing as he suckles the chill right out of him. experimentally, he runs his left hand up his length, squeezing his palm over his cockhead. it isn’t good but it isn’t bad either. he’s undetermined, yet determined to make it great for himself, simply to appease keith.
so he doesn’t complain and he doesn’t whine. he keeps stroking, warming to the friction and inevitably, thickening as the enormity of the situation begins to dawn on him. suddenly, it doesn’t feel like winter at all. the snow loses its chill and the air loses its nip, shiro’s body running hot both from his own hand’s motion and by having this beautiful boy draped over him, lavishing him with attention. shiro’s own drifts in the next moment, awareness prickling in a way that has him feeling watched. down the path but so clearly in sight is a man. a neighbor, actually. shiro recognizes him as the inmate that claims the cube two down from his own. they’ve said hello a few times and even had a conversation or two. nothing in-depth to make any sort of lasting impression.
not like this. ]
That didn’t take long.
[ there’s a hint of humor in that sighing of words. shiro finishes the next pump of his fist and then comes to a pause. he can’t deny the way his skin prickles with anxiety, but it isn’t his place to call this; it’s keith’s. keith’s the one leading, the one telling, the one deciding. shiro is merely here to do as he says and, hopefully, please him along the way. so slowly, shiro drags his gaze from the man who is making no indication of leaving or politely turning his gaze away. he looks to keith. ]
What’s your order, sir? Should I keep stroking for the both of you?
shiro is blameless. he's high on potpourri
there isn’t any resistance to keith’s order, either. acceptance is an odd reaction for shiro; he isn’t the type to expose himself in public, but here, he does it readily. so eager to meet keith’s expectation, shiro gives up the support of his elbows to fumble at his waistband. he has strong abs; they flex and harden, right there on full display, keeping shiro in the reclined lean despite his arms abandoning their support. however, the moment shiro pulls the waistband down to pull out his cock, it’s a different story.
his hands are cold. he hisses through the initial wrap of his snow chilled fingers, abdominals spasming and body teetering, his galra arm knocking back to catch himself with that elbow digging deep into the snow. the weakened, borderline uncomfortable feeling isn’t helped by keith’s equally cold fingertips that now tease and pinch at his nipples. goosebumps arise all along his body, sending a shiver down his spine that expands and overtakes, making the whole of him tense with a clenching of his teeth. keith is there though, with a wet, warm mouth, lips teasing and tongue soothing as he suckles the chill right out of him. experimentally, he runs his left hand up his length, squeezing his palm over his cockhead. it isn’t good but it isn’t bad either. he’s undetermined, yet determined to make it great for himself, simply to appease keith.
so he doesn’t complain and he doesn’t whine. he keeps stroking, warming to the friction and inevitably, thickening as the enormity of the situation begins to dawn on him. suddenly, it doesn’t feel like winter at all. the snow loses its chill and the air loses its nip, shiro’s body running hot both from his own hand’s motion and by having this beautiful boy draped over him, lavishing him with attention. shiro’s own drifts in the next moment, awareness prickling in a way that has him feeling watched. down the path but so clearly in sight is a man. a neighbor, actually. shiro recognizes him as the inmate that claims the cube two down from his own. they’ve said hello a few times and even had a conversation or two. nothing in-depth to make any sort of lasting impression.
not like this. ]
That didn’t take long.
[ there’s a hint of humor in that sighing of words. shiro finishes the next pump of his fist and then comes to a pause. he can’t deny the way his skin prickles with anxiety, but it isn’t his place to call this; it’s keith’s. keith’s the one leading, the one telling, the one deciding. shiro is merely here to do as he says and, hopefully, please him along the way. so slowly, shiro drags his gaze from the man who is making no indication of leaving or politely turning his gaze away. he looks to keith. ]
What’s your order, sir? Should I keep stroking for the both of you?