[ oh. he’s cooperating…? daring to hope, shiro’s expression clears and that wrinkled brow relaxes as he, tentatively, breathes out his relief. he matches keith’s smile on the second okay and squeezes right back, feeling like a weight has been lifted off his shoulders. good. good. now all he has to do is make sure keith is as comfortable as he can be as he lounges in his bed. half an hour to an hour, that would be shiro’s estimate on the aphro effects. shiro can keep him entertained with meaningless chatter until then and once keith is clear-eyed again, then… wait… what is he…
the movement of their combined hands isn’t a mere shifting. it’s a dragging. keith pulls his hands upward and god dammit again, surprise halts shiro’s reaction for one, damningly significant moment, just long enough for his knuckles to brush the tenting of those yoga pants. it’s only a whisper of heat and shiro’s cheeks explode with a flush as he yanks his hands out of keith’s hold. ]
Keith. [ bad! ] No.
[ he pushes himself to his feet and stumbles backwards, nearly colliding with his locker. ]
no subject
the movement of their combined hands isn’t a mere shifting. it’s a dragging. keith pulls his hands upward and god dammit again, surprise halts shiro’s reaction for one, damningly significant moment, just long enough for his knuckles to brush the tenting of those yoga pants. it’s only a whisper of heat and shiro’s cheeks explode with a flush as he yanks his hands out of keith’s hold. ]
Keith. [ bad! ] No.
[ he pushes himself to his feet and stumbles backwards, nearly colliding with his locker. ]
No one’s dicks are being sucked here.