[ big guy. might as well dub him obedient guy at this point, because there is no quip to meet that. shiro doesn’t even bat an eye. keith says he needs a refresher and shiro bobbles his head in agreement, top incisors catching his bottom lip for a back and forth gnaw down. it works for about two seconds in muffling him. but keith’s got their dicks aligned in a tightening grip, that fist pumping and pumping to provide steady friction. shiro’s weak for it; weak for this man. his ass flexes and his hips push up, squirming that extra inch to rub himself into the rubbing, sparking the pleasure that much more.
so yes, the way he’s biting down does little to stop him from moaning. the sound is embarrassing: too high, too needy. he’s keening at a fever pitch, digging the back of his head further into the snow as keith sucks at his throat. fuck, shiro hopes he leaves a mark. he wants keith to cum on him and paint him filthy, but a deep purple bruise right there, front and center, in the shape of keith’s mouth would be that much better. no mistaking he belongs to someone then, huh?
he relaxes his mouth just enough to release his lip and then he’s groaning louder, deeper, just so keith can feel his throat vibrating underneath his lips. that’s loud, but when it comes to words? ]
I belong to you.
[ they come punched out, far too breathy to carry beyond shiro’s makeshift yard. not good enough. that isn’t what keith told him to do. nice and loud. right. people need to be taught. people need to know. so he kicks his voice higher, near shouting for whatever unfortunate neighbors and passerbyers are near enough to hear. ]
I belong to Keith! I don’t need anyone else.
[ the rhythmic sound of a beating fist is unmistakable. shiro’s dribbling, easing the motion with slick that spreads and sticks and coats. he reaches for keith then, grasping at keith’s hips and digging his cold fingers in, wanting to feel him through the suit. ]
Just you. [ voice softer now, he redirects to speak to keith directly. ] Just, hhh – you’re it. You’re so it for me.
and watch, that person will never tag me again
so yes, the way he’s biting down does little to stop him from moaning. the sound is embarrassing: too high, too needy. he’s keening at a fever pitch, digging the back of his head further into the snow as keith sucks at his throat. fuck, shiro hopes he leaves a mark. he wants keith to cum on him and paint him filthy, but a deep purple bruise right there, front and center, in the shape of keith’s mouth would be that much better. no mistaking he belongs to someone then, huh?
he relaxes his mouth just enough to release his lip and then he’s groaning louder, deeper, just so keith can feel his throat vibrating underneath his lips. that’s loud, but when it comes to words? ]
I belong to you.
[ they come punched out, far too breathy to carry beyond shiro’s makeshift yard. not good enough. that isn’t what keith told him to do. nice and loud. right. people need to be taught. people need to know. so he kicks his voice higher, near shouting for whatever unfortunate neighbors and passerbyers are near enough to hear. ]
I belong to Keith! I don’t need anyone else.
[ the rhythmic sound of a beating fist is unmistakable. shiro’s dribbling, easing the motion with slick that spreads and sticks and coats. he reaches for keith then, grasping at keith’s hips and digging his cold fingers in, wanting to feel him through the suit. ]
Just you. [ voice softer now, he redirects to speak to keith directly. ] Just, hhh – you’re it. You’re so it for me.