[ it’s a strange juxtaposition of many things happening at once… and yet, nothing going on from shiro himself. or at least, the one reaction he should have doesn’t come to fruition nearly as quickly as it should. the direction of keith’s gaze should tip him off. it doesn’t. the question clears that up, but shiro nearly swallows his own tongue as his throat locks up on surprise, lungs trying to both inhale and exhale at the same time. he sputters unattractively and only grows more tense as keith’s face finds a section of his inner thigh to nose against. stock still, shiro tries and fails to slog through the shock deafening all the warning bells in his head for three, two, one…
his hands abandon keith’s shoulders and go for the hair. curling tight, his fingers knot and then he pulls. the length and feel of the strands wound around his fisted fingers is familiar in a way he can’t place and soon, he doesn’t care to follow that feeling to an answer because then he’s letting go and fretting. ]
Shit.
[ he pets his hair back, as though that will soothe away the roughness of his treatment. that too is abandoned soon enough and afraid that keith may resume, shiro bends his knees and drops down, balancing on the balls of his feet. remorse has his expression going softer, while hastiness to smooth over his actions has honest words slipping free. ]
Yes, of course I would. I’d take care of you.
[ even though he just yanked his hair…? yes. shiro thought of it before in laundry, of how he could – perhaps even should – be among keith’s firsts, just to ease him into feeling comfortable and safe in sharing his body with someone else. he was quick to dismiss it then and now isn’t any different. ]
But not like this. [ he grabs for keith’s hands and holds them in his, resting there along keith’s knees as shiro pointedly doesn’t stare at the tenting in his pants. instead, he stares up into keith’s face, brows knotted and arched high. ] Let me take care of you in a different way.
no subject
his hands abandon keith’s shoulders and go for the hair. curling tight, his fingers knot and then he pulls. the length and feel of the strands wound around his fisted fingers is familiar in a way he can’t place and soon, he doesn’t care to follow that feeling to an answer because then he’s letting go and fretting. ]
Shit.
[ he pets his hair back, as though that will soothe away the roughness of his treatment. that too is abandoned soon enough and afraid that keith may resume, shiro bends his knees and drops down, balancing on the balls of his feet. remorse has his expression going softer, while hastiness to smooth over his actions has honest words slipping free. ]
Yes, of course I would. I’d take care of you.
[ even though he just yanked his hair…? yes. shiro thought of it before in laundry, of how he could – perhaps even should – be among keith’s firsts, just to ease him into feeling comfortable and safe in sharing his body with someone else. he was quick to dismiss it then and now isn’t any different. ]
But not like this. [ he grabs for keith’s hands and holds them in his, resting there along keith’s knees as shiro pointedly doesn’t stare at the tenting in his pants. instead, he stares up into keith’s face, brows knotted and arched high. ] Let me take care of you in a different way.