[ shoulders move under his hands, one then the other as keith pushes himself up. shiro watches him rise, awed and utterly fascinated by how such a simple shift has him feeling smaller. he's not, of course. he outclasses keith in weight and width, the sheer mass of his body as hefty as it is intimidating, but here, with keith poised above him, he feels – small? fragile? no. precious and protected, so thoroughly caught and kept. that's all he wants, really; to be claimed as keith's and never set free.
good boy, is the thought that comes next. there's a lingering protest between them but it's lost all strength. no more waiting, no more patience – just the two of them together as keith rolls his hips.
of course that isn't entirely true, because the pace starts slow and careful. it's good, though. enough and everything in the moment, the drag of one ridge, then two, then so on and so forth, is so mind-fucking unbelievable in intensity that shiro whines, trembling all the way to twitching toes.
keith tells him not to hold back and it's the first time shiro considers defying him. the very idea of not being dubbed good boy, too, physically churns his stomach, some deep-ingrained need to meet every command from this boy so strong that shiro doesn't even know how to deny him anymore. and yet, for one, barely conscious thought, he wants to, because now he has all the patience in the world. keith is inside him, fucking him through the last bit of pressure and making him melt into the sheets; coming apart on his dick leads to an end that has keith slipping out. it's inevitable, he knows, but if he can make this last… ]
But –
[ his breath hitches high, the sharp inhale silencing the rest of a protest he's not allowed to have. ]
You feel so good inside.
[ the tone doesn't match the words; he sounds almost mournful. so good, too good, it only means he's not going to last, not with those ridges continually stroking through him, keeping him wide. keith's hand is on him too, which isn't even fair. even as he thinks this and squirms with overwhelming sensation, he can't bring himself to let go of keith's shoulders to do something as foolish as push keith's hand away. by the end of this, both shoulders will most definitely be bruised, especially the right. ]
Wish I could lock you inside… keep you.
[ maybe if he squeezes hard enough… – he groans, flexing his asshole to force himself tight around another thrust. gasping next, his mouth hangs open helplessly, eyes hazy and distant. mumbling now, he's only vaguely coherent. ]
in which shiro tries to reverse buttknot
good boy, is the thought that comes next. there's a lingering protest between them but it's lost all strength. no more waiting, no more patience – just the two of them together as keith rolls his hips.
of course that isn't entirely true, because the pace starts slow and careful. it's good, though. enough and everything in the moment, the drag of one ridge, then two, then so on and so forth, is so mind-fucking unbelievable in intensity that shiro whines, trembling all the way to twitching toes.
keith tells him not to hold back and it's the first time shiro considers defying him. the very idea of not being dubbed good boy, too, physically churns his stomach, some deep-ingrained need to meet every command from this boy so strong that shiro doesn't even know how to deny him anymore. and yet, for one, barely conscious thought, he wants to, because now he has all the patience in the world. keith is inside him, fucking him through the last bit of pressure and making him melt into the sheets; coming apart on his dick leads to an end that has keith slipping out. it's inevitable, he knows, but if he can make this last… ]
But –
[ his breath hitches high, the sharp inhale silencing the rest of a protest he's not allowed to have. ]
You feel so good inside.
[ the tone doesn't match the words; he sounds almost mournful. so good, too good, it only means he's not going to last, not with those ridges continually stroking through him, keeping him wide. keith's hand is on him too, which isn't even fair. even as he thinks this and squirms with overwhelming sensation, he can't bring himself to let go of keith's shoulders to do something as foolish as push keith's hand away. by the end of this, both shoulders will most definitely be bruised, especially the right. ]
Wish I could lock you inside… keep you.
[ maybe if he squeezes hard enough… – he groans, flexing his asshole to force himself tight around another thrust. gasping next, his mouth hangs open helplessly, eyes hazy and distant. mumbling now, he's only vaguely coherent. ]
Never let you go.