[ that slip turns into a full on crack in his will power. temptation wins and shiro stays, neither pulling away, nor pushing closer, merely keeping position to endure the slow grind of keith’s cock. fuck, it’s everything. destabilizing, addicting, frightening, and so, so good, especially with breath still teasing his ear. shiro’s weak for it. heh, he’s weak for keith. he’s always been weak for keith, just not like this, never like this… and now that he is? he’s stepped too far and he can’t seem to remember how to backtrack, at least not when he’s locked cock to cock, every thought in his head cotton-soft and just as flimsy.
keith’s moaning directly into his ear and now, shiro knows exactly what keith sounds like when he’s overwrought in pleasure, teetering so close to the edge. shiro’s going to have to square with that someday. this is wrong breaks through the haze, but it’s too late. shiro’s still holding onto his leg, still hovering above, and still being the terrible friend that he is as he allows keith to use his body for one last grind. shiro’s throat bobs underneath keith’s mouth as he swallows hard, forcing down his own groan. keith’s shuddering through it; pressed as close as they are, shiro can feel keith spilling through the breakdown of every tense line, hips quivering and legs going lax.
shiro’s still hard. when keith goes boneless into that panting heap, there’s a moment in which shiro’s hips chase after him. a slight rock keeps them together and he’s mindless with the desire to follow through until he’s chased down his orgasm too. but it’s only a moment. without keith at his ear, goading him, even commanding him, shiro is able to think and when he does…? he pushes himself up. ]
You…
[ … came? his cock throbs. he ignores it. he’s sitting up, with keith’s legs strew uselessly, barely keeping shape around him any longer. from here, he has a pretty clear picture of keith sprawled out, lines made longer by the extension of his arms chained to the railing. from his soft-panting mouth to his nipples to his flat belly to the dampness he can see already forming in those thin, yoga pants, shiro’s gaze keeps fluttering around, cataloging everything, despite his well-meaning intentions. ]
We…
[ … did that, actually did that? he draws another breath and opens his mouth to, hopefully, say something more substantial but he’s interrupted. from his tablet set over there on the kiosk, is a noise. a noise that shiro remembers getting after a certain conversation over the network. something on his sentence sheet has been checked off. dread drops down into his stomach and he grimaces. ]
Dammit. [ under his breath and barely there. shiro shakes it off and untangles himself entirely, pushing back on the bed to give himself distance. keith should be sated but just in case. as for saying something substantial? shiro never gets there. he goes mute, trying to rationalize what just happened and barely making ground with it. ]
no subject
keith’s moaning directly into his ear and now, shiro knows exactly what keith sounds like when he’s overwrought in pleasure, teetering so close to the edge. shiro’s going to have to square with that someday. this is wrong breaks through the haze, but it’s too late. shiro’s still holding onto his leg, still hovering above, and still being the terrible friend that he is as he allows keith to use his body for one last grind. shiro’s throat bobs underneath keith’s mouth as he swallows hard, forcing down his own groan. keith’s shuddering through it; pressed as close as they are, shiro can feel keith spilling through the breakdown of every tense line, hips quivering and legs going lax.
shiro’s still hard. when keith goes boneless into that panting heap, there’s a moment in which shiro’s hips chase after him. a slight rock keeps them together and he’s mindless with the desire to follow through until he’s chased down his orgasm too. but it’s only a moment. without keith at his ear, goading him, even commanding him, shiro is able to think and when he does…? he pushes himself up. ]
You…
[ … came? his cock throbs. he ignores it. he’s sitting up, with keith’s legs strew uselessly, barely keeping shape around him any longer. from here, he has a pretty clear picture of keith sprawled out, lines made longer by the extension of his arms chained to the railing. from his soft-panting mouth to his nipples to his flat belly to the dampness he can see already forming in those thin, yoga pants, shiro’s gaze keeps fluttering around, cataloging everything, despite his well-meaning intentions. ]
We…
[ … did that, actually did that? he draws another breath and opens his mouth to, hopefully, say something more substantial but he’s interrupted. from his tablet set over there on the kiosk, is a noise. a noise that shiro remembers getting after a certain conversation over the network. something on his sentence sheet has been checked off. dread drops down into his stomach and he grimaces. ]
Dammit. [ under his breath and barely there. shiro shakes it off and untangles himself entirely, pushing back on the bed to give himself distance. keith should be sated but just in case. as for saying something substantial? shiro never gets there. he goes mute, trying to rationalize what just happened and barely making ground with it. ]