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« Shiro »
[ TEXT + AUDIO + VIDEO + ACTION ]

Hi, this is Shiro.
Sorry I'm unavailable at the moment,
but leave a message and I'll get back to you as soon as I can.

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Are you always that bossy? I kinda like it.

( He sounds amused, volume low. )

[ so. shiro’s propped up on his shitty bed, in his shitty cube, knees bent and feet flat to the bedding. he’s yet to feel any true arousal in the moment. nerves have him. as well as an agitated feeling in the pit of his stomach. he draws a breath and exhales slow, easing away the perpetual frown that’s been marring his face this whole exchange.

it helps, a little. just enough that when he does switch to audio, no obvious reluctance plagues his voice. ]

Only when necessary. [ a beat and then a low laugh. ] And imagine that, it worked. Now you’re behaving.

I wasn't aware I was misbehaving before.

( He's genuinely curious, testing the waters here: )

Do you like them obedient? Or do you like to make them obedient?

Now look who’s full of questions.

[ diversion tactic? maybe. ]

I’ve yet to get a hand on myself. I thought you were going to change that.

Hey, if you want a quickie just say so.

( He snickers; it's obvious. )

I'm just trying to figure out what you like without you having to give me a list.

[ for someone who was so impatiently vulgar on the network, this man is remarkably accommodating. shiro frowns to himself, wondering if this new acquaintance would be so patient and chatty if shiro had his pants drawn down in front of him. phone sex is a concept that shiro doesn’t understand, because he’s never done it.

there’s an art to it, as ludicrous as that sounds, and shiro doubts he'll be great at it. nonetheless, if he wants it marked off his sheet, he needs to stop resisting, get over the inherent embarrassment, and just start talking.

so backtracking to that earlier point: ]

I like boys who buck at authority but fall in line when I’m the one giving the orders. [ a beat and the sound of an old creaking bed as he shifts to get more comfortable. ] I know nothing about you and that’s probably for the best, but whoever you are, I expect you to please me with your voice.

[ another beat. ]

If you do? Maybe I’ll let you fit my cock down your throat someday soon.

[ the day was always coming, but even so when the prison sentries finally drag keith out of his cube, it doesn't actually feel real. he delays as long as possible to send shiro a text, but even that had been too much time wasted and keith had only managed to send a hel before the tablet had been snatched out of his hands.

is that enough? keith doesn't know. for someone who's been adamant about not wanting to think about whatever this sexperiment entails, he sure as hell hasn't been all too successful. drug testing had seemed the least horrifying outcome that said, but as he gets shoved into the activity room and spots a robot with seven tentacle like limbs and a mouth hanging grotesquely open, the horrified revulsion that comes over him propels him to try and fight.

however, his suspicions about aphrodisiac testing hadn't been entirely off the mark. tentacles lift up, squirting jets upon jets of lube and aphro from across the room. it's at this point that his memory gets fuzzy. he remembers dodging under desks, using a chair as a shield and then suddenly being soaking wet and ... ah.

next thing keith knows, he's been physically hauled up from where he'd been on all fours, trying to pull himself together he manages a smile seeing his best friend, but the fact that he isn't actually protesting when he gets scooped up in shiro's arms is probably a good indicator that not all is well. frankly, the brisk march back to the cubes is even less memorable as heat rachets inside keith's body, turning his cheeks a dusky pink and his breaths ragged by the time they managed to get inside shiro's unit.

hands shoot down to try and conceal the tenting of his tight yoga pants, but the gesture is at best contrary when keith opens his mouth only to groan by shiro's ear. ]

Fuck, it's hot. And you're hot which isn't helping.

[ it feels like his heartbeat hasn’t slowed since he first looked to his tablet and saw that hel message lighting up his screen. the surveillance turned rescue devolved into a clusterfuck of yelling and mangled machinery not too terribly far into the punishment and shiro wonders what the pushback will be for that. the probability of either of them walking away unpunished from destroying something of value to the warden and his prison staff is low. shiro only hopes that when someone or someones come looking for them, shiro can take most of the heat. afterall, he’s the one who sliced the tentacle thing into three separate pieces, hand lit up in bright purple.

he only has so much room in his brain to worry though and the majority of that space is focused entirely on keith in his current state. so keith was right afterall: aphrodisiac testing. it’s difficult not to think of his own experience with it when he passes the education wing. it’s partly while his strides are so brisk as he clutches keith in his arms and shoulders his way around anyone to make it outside. the events in the library are as hazy as they are not; some aspects he remembers with too much clarity, while others, such as his concept of how long it took for the aphrodisiac to take hold, are blurrier. either way, he’d like to get keith somewhere safe and somewhere private before the brunt of the effects come to a head.

he manages it, but just barely. and once inside? shiro realizes suddenly that he has no plan beyond that. it was easier to ignore keith before, because he had a set task in front of him – get to his cube – but now, he isn’t distracted with the huff-puff of his own breathing or the sound of his quickened steps. now, he’s standing just inside, door closed behind him, keith’s breath tickling his ear and making it twitch.

surprised, he jerks his head for a better angle and looks to keith. definitely harder to ignore keith now. the color in his cheeks is almost complimentary to the shape and complexion of keith’s face, but it’s marred by the distanced, heaviness of his eyes and the shallow panting that keeps his chest laboring. with his soul already weighed down with concern, it shouldn’t make a difference, but somehow, shiro finds even more of that emotion, and in the next beat, he reflexively tightens his hold, clutching keith to his chest tighter. stupid, as if that’s going to make any of this better. in fact, it’ll likely make things worse.

shaking his head to dismiss the thought, he relaxes his fingers and forces his legs to move. ]

You’re gonna be fine, Keith. [ shiro will just be to ignoring that silly comment concerning himself. he forces what he hopes passes as an encouraging smile. ] The effects will wear off soon. Until then, I want you to sit down and try to relax.

[ if possible. fuck, he hopes it’s possible. the cube isn’t all that large to begin with, so a few comments in and he’s halfway into the full length of his living space, which is where he’ll be setting keith down on his feet. ]

[ keith had said not too long ago that he isn't ready for shiro to see him this way. that much hasn't changed in the time since those words were said. but as with so many other things in prison, often it isn't a matter of choice, but a matter of when. comfort and dignity are afterthoughts to their prison overlords and with the fog clogging up keith's head, those priorities are seemingly melting away. unimportant.

a lot of things stop seeming important, actually. his stupid sense of pride, the bigger picture of voltron and the universe. hard to fathom anything outside of the warmth skittering up and down his nerves and centering around his crotch. shiro's arms tighten around him briefly and keith's next breath is hitched, lips parting to close around shiro's earlobe.

he misses though. his best friend jerks his head out of the way, and keith's lips close around nothing, leaving him disappointed but not discouraged. he shivers as hands shift along his body and his feet make contact with the floor. he should stand then? but hadn't shiro told him to sit?

keith leans heavily against shiro, hands coming away from his clothed erection to lock around the small of shiro's back instead, dick hard and obscene against shiro's hip. this isn't right is a thought that crosses keith's head, but doesn't take. nothing really seems to take. after all, isn't this leagues better than opening his mouth for a random cock in the library? ]

You should relax. I wanna sit on you.

[ the cubes all share an identical layout. shiro's cube is even less personalized than his own, and so keith steps forward, crowding and herding shiro in the direction of his cot. ]

[ of course it wouldn’t be that easy. shiro knows better than that; should because hell, he’d pulled his pants down and hid his hard dick in a bookshelf due to some aphrodisiac clogging his senses. if he’d been willing to jerk one out in the midst of a library, why wouldn’t keith come onto him in a private, enclosed space? because they’re best friends, is the argument shiro picks; one that he wishes actually meant something here.

keith leans into him and it’s more than the weight of keith’s body that he feels. hands touch his back and something hard digs into his hip. something, right. the dryness of his own thoughts has his mind backtracking and amending the word, so helpfully supplying cock instead and subsequently, making shiro stumble back a step from the shock of it. one step turns into two and it’s easy to get caught up in the momentum of it because part of him is hardwired to put distance between himself and keith.

it improves nothing. keith’s clinging and every heel-toe step jostles keith against him, bumping, brushing, teasing that cock against his hip as he goes. heat climbs up shiro’s neck and his throat feels parched, voice coming out higher and thinner. ]

Keith. [ it lacks the disciplinary edge. it’s more pleading in nature, like he’s bargaining for pity. but then the free space runs out and shiro feels the edge of the cot touch the back of his thighs. that seemingly breaks him of his temporary frailty. abruptly, he takes keith by the shoulders and extends his arms, forcing distance between them. ]

No you don’t. [ hardening his expression, shiro frowns. ] That’s the aphro talking.

[ the shuffling steps come to a stop. without looking, keith knows the cot must be behind shiro then, and hazy thoughts that seem to meander aimlessly before inevitably drifting back around to back to the canvas of bare skin and muscle made inaccessible with one flimsy layer of clothing. fingers grip harder around shiro's hips, palms sliding down to encourage shiro's tight pants down his thighs.

progress is once again cut short as strong hands grip his shoulders and force him back. keith startles, and releases shiro's pants only to start reaching up to cup his best friend's face. he blinks, trying to focus, but doesn't get any further than locking eyes and drowning all over again.

amongst other reasons, shiro had always been galaxy garrison's poster boy. handsome face, gorgeous smile and a devastating jawline. keith's seen it all before, but note like this. up close, hands touching shiro's cheeks, away from every reason keith was never supposed to look. a boyfriend turned fiance, a broken off engagement, war,, a clone with murder his eyes. a friendship that keith could never forgive himself for messing up.

hie voice drops down to a whisper, something almost comically awed as he tries to re-close the gap between them. ]

It's just me in here, Shiro. Aphro's not talking. I'm talking. So just sit back and listen.

[ breathing hard, keith pushes forward yet again trying to get shiro settled on the bed. ]

[ so here shiro is, standing with his legs to his shitty cot, the waistband of his pants stretched tight and low enough that he feels it on the beginning crease of his ass. he doesn’t dare let go of keith long enough to fix the fit however. he doesn’t trust the haziness of keith’s gaze or the purring quality of his voice as he leans into the hold of both hands, once again trying to eat up the space between them.

is it bad to find the hands upon his face… nice? it’s intimate in nature, only made softer by the lack of leather. it’s an odd time to think it: that keith isn’t wearing gloves. he hasn’t been the whole time shiro’s been in prison with him but it hasn’t been until now that shiro’s found reason to care. touch warm and fingers curled sweetly, shiro falters for a moment and lets another inch shave off between them, his knees wanting to go weak…

but. ]

No. [ he locks his elbows and keeps what distance is left. ] I can’t have you hating me when you sober up. [ because he would. shiro would hate himself too for taking advantage of keith's trust. keith had been so distressed over his sentencing when they spoke before. he didn’t even want shiro to see him like this and while that part can’t be avoided, shiro can certainly keep this from becoming worse. ]

So just… [ he gives up on worse for the moment and huffs instead, fingers gripping tighter as he manually hauls keith around to switch their positions. with keith’s back facing the bedding now, shiro pushes down until keith cooperates in bending his knees to sit upon the cot. ]

Sit.

[ despite keith's insistence from just moments ago, when its met with resistance and a show of strength on shiro's part, keith goes oddly pliant, allowing shiro to twist them around. keith swallows, cheeks burning a dusky pink as shiro gives his shoulders a solid push down. knees bend and keith does as instructed, sitting on the edge of the cot as he slowly drags his gaze from shiro's eyes down the length of his torso to stop right at his crotch. ]

Oh... [ his tone stays soft, almost dreamy in his slow comprehension. ] You want me to suck you off?

[ now that he's at roughly eye level, the lack of tenting in shiro's pants does seem like a big oversight on his part. his expression turns slightly sheepish then, but he wets his lips and leans forward to try and nose at his best friend's inner thighs. ]

I can do that. Heh. [ fuck, he might even be good at this. not that he'd stuck around long enough to ask the guy at the library but clearly he didn't have any issues getting off. ] Why would I hate you anyway? You'd actually take care of me.

[ 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.

[ but while shiro trips over his concerns about rough treatment, keith on the other hand lets out a soft moan as his head gets yanked back by the hair, eyes clouded with need as he looks up at shiro's face. neck craning up to bask in the subsequent oetting, keith's voice stays in whispered tones. ]

Okay.

[ it's not okay. keith isn't following shiro's desires at all. one second he wants keith seated, the next shiro has courched down to keep his cock out of reach. but with the way his hands are held captive and shiro looks up at him from the below, keith can't bring himself to upset. confused, yes, but so very far from upset. he gives shiro's hands twin squeezes and smiles. ]

Okay.

[ this time, keith sounds a little more confident as comprehension sets in. grip still tight on shiro's hands, he brings them up higher on his body while widening the spread of his legs. ]

You can take care of my dick first then.

[ 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 one’s dicks are being sucked here.

[ keith blinks -- stares more accurately, as shiro rips his hands free and stumbles away like merely touching the tip of his clothed dick burned in some way. keith bites the inside of his lip, unsure of how to proceed as a storm of conflicted emotions grows wild in his head.

shiro isn't interested in his cock. that standalone thought teeters on the cusp of being outright hurtful, but where his dick should be going soft with that thought alone, he stays unrelentingly aroused. swallowing hard like that might keep the disappointment at bay, keith bows his head and stares down at the strain in his pants for an extended beat before looking at shiro inploringly. ]

Fine. You can have my ass then. Is that what you want?

[ the words are out of his mouth, and keith falters before taking any kind of action. he's never offered that to anyone, never thought he would. the thought sits strangely in his head, making him shiver from head to toe just imagining himself bending over this cot, spreading his cheeks for shiro while shiro stuffs him full of cock. again, keith bites his lip, but isn't able to keep a whine held back as his cock twitches and leaves a wet spot on his pants.

keith stands up straight, then turns abruptly, both hands on the waistband of his yoga pants to pull them down his hips before pressing both hands firmly to the cot as bends low.]

Take it. I want you to be the first to take me like that.

[ how is it possible for him to feel guilty for doing the right thing? halting keith’s influenced advances is undoubtedly the correct action to be taking and yet, watching keith pause and stare, before hiding his face with a downward bend has shiro feeling as though he’s done the exact opposite. he feels as though he’s wronged keith. a ridiculous notion, truly. the only way shiro can wrong keith here is by giving into his aphro demands. which he won’t, because it’s not like shiro is tempted. it’s not like he wants. except…

in the next moment, keith’s offering his ass both in words and in action, and as per usual, shiro is dumbfounded, standing there with his mouth softly parted, staring at keith’s bare ass. he should look away, he knows he should, but he keeps on staring, wide-eyed and embarrassingly unblinking. the booty shorts were a tease and not nearly enough to prepare him. voluptuous and round, keith’s ass is, surprisingly, fatty, looking both solid enough to take a beating, yet soft enough to meld under squeezing, coaxing fingers. those of his left twitch at the mere suggestion before promptly squeezing into a fist. ]

I…

[ he trails off, having no idea where that thought was meant to go. keith’s attractive, there’s no shame in acknowledging that under normal circumstances… but these aren’t normal circumstances and instead of him being a supportive best friend wanting to bolster his friend’s self-confidence in pursuing others, shiro is stuck thinking about how keith looks good bent over in his bed and in full offer to him.

he takes a step forward as though he has no control over himself. and maybe he doesn’t, because he feels something else twitch and this time, it’s not his fingers. ]

Keith…

[ when at a loss, saying keith’s name is his go-to. he takes another step and pauses, finally with effort, shifting his gaze from keith’s nakedness to stare at the floor paneling next to the bed. he’s not going to. he’s not tempted. he’s not. just. ]

I… [ that again, huh? he frowns and swallows through the thick feeling in his throat, voice curious and oddly vulnerable. ] You really want that?

[ what feels like an eternity passes between keith bending over on the cot and shiro's next full sentence. he's never been good at reading people to begin with, and in the moment keith has to admit to himself that maybe it's not just other people, but shiro as well. it's true that they haven't been on the same wavelength since bumping into each other in the laundry room, but maybe that's been true for even longer. before pron prison. dating all the way back to that tine they were stranded on that one planet and a dying shiro had told him i want you to lead voltron.

the thought comes and goes, like footprints washed away by the tide as aphro fueld imagination refocuses his priorities. any second now, one of shiro's storng hands will be on his hips, and something hard and solid will be pressed between his asscheeks. keith shivers pathetically as pre runs down the length of his cock.
but any second now stretches out far too long and keith looks over his shoulder anxiously. his best friend has stepped closer, but that space between them is still a fucking chasm. ]

Of course I want that.

[ his reply comes quickly, though marred by the heaviness of his breathing. ]

You're...

[ you're my borther. i love you. keith squeezes his eyes closed, facing forward again abruptly. short circuiting on his own thoughts, he gives himself a mental shake and desperately shoves two fingers in his mouth to wet them. index and middle fingers glistening with spit, keith reaches behind, leaving a saliva trail between his cheeks, breath hitching as he brushes over his hole. ]

You're the only one I trust with this.

Edited (pink virgins) 2022-05-23 03:33 (UTC)

[ of course he wants that. just like of course shiro would take care of him. they say it so freely, like it’s a given that they could fit sex within the carefully constructed boundaries of their friendship, because their friendship is so strong, that not even sex could topple it. shiro isn’t so sure though. shiro knows first hand how strong these alien, aphro concoctions are. they make you forget yourself and do things you would otherwise never do… right? yeah. shiro regrets the library. he doesn’t still think of it and wonder what a second meeting would be like. if the same happened for keith and keith came to in an hour to regret and feel sick and run away from this situation as quickly as shiro had in the library…

shiro feels a little sick himself, because he’s a lech, taking advantage of his best friend in his most vulnerable state. you see, his gaze is drawn to the movement of keith’s hand and shiro can’t bring himself to do the honorable thing of looking away as before. his breath hitches almost in perfect synchronization with keith’s own, eagerly watching the pale softness of keith’s inner cheeks go glossy with spit.

he trusts me, he repeats to himself, and can’t decide what it is he’s feeling. honored? happy? proud? that out of everyone keith has come to know both here and during the gap in their timeline, keith still values shiro above all else. it’s humbling. it’s inspiring. it’s… a little bit of everything for shiro, because shiro trusts keith impeccably and as much as he loves seeing keith become more than the tiny cadet who followed in his footsteps, shiro doesn’t actually want to be left behind. he wants to always be a part of keith’s life; hopefully with the continued title as his most trusted friend.

which is why this is difficult. violate keith’s trust by delivering on what he trusts him to do? or keep keith’s trust by arguing that keith can’t possibly entrust him with this?

he draws a breath, watching the slickness of keith’s index brush at his rim and then exhales: ]

Okay.

[ he already knows he can’t handle keith playing with his hole. so three strides and he’s within distance to grasp keith by the wrist. another two steps and he’s a breath away from brushing the vaguely interested twitch in his pants up against keith’s ass. he almost seems surprised to be there, as though he had no concept for moving and with the brush of their bodies, he pauses and closes his eyes, chin tucked as he draws a steadying breath. one, two and then he reopens, letting go of keith’s wrist in favor of touching his hips to his thighs to his pants…

he grips the waistband and hauls it up, covering keith’s ass. he grips him at the waist now, partly to keep the waistband firmly in place in case other hands get ideas and partly to ground him through the sweetly addictive want that’s playing at his mind and leaving him feeling weak. ]

Then ask me again when the aphro is through your system.

[ if keith still wants it then, when he can think clearly… maybe… – shiro bites his lip and gives keith’s left hip a pat before letting go and taking a cautious backward step. behave, behave, behave… ]

[ fingers catch his wrist and keith moans, urgently pushing his hips back for a taste of friction. frankly there's little the aphro in his system does to blunt his awareness of how new this side of anal is. he's never been one to cower from the new and unexpected -- fuck, he'd never have joined galaxy garrison if he were afraid of new frontiers and all that. but still. space exploration and body exploration are different.... right?

maye, maybe not. but the longer keith dwells on it, the more ridiculous it seems that he's been to entirely different galaxies and realities, but still that barely there probe of his hole is still the first time he's ever touched himself there. the realization is so overwhelmingly stupid that it actually makes him laugh helplessly, part amuse, and partly in self loathing. twenty one years of being alive and because he'd never bothered to try and connect with anyone else, all his choices now in porn prison aren't really choices at all.

his hand goes slack, eyes squeezed shut as shiro drags his pants back up his thighs and covers the most intimate parts of him back up. shiro's last bit of commentary draws out one last stilted bit of laughter before keith gets his consolation pat on the hip and is let go once again. ]

You really think aphro changes how I feel about you?

[ ut;s asked quietly enough, head bowed and eyes boring holes into the cot. was he doped up on aphrodisiac at the clone facility? fuck. he almost starts laughing again, but curbs it by biting down on his lower lip. the fact that he's even asking the question is sign enough that he's not thinking straight, but he turns around and tries to drape himself on shiro with all the certitude of a guy who's convinced he's making sense. ]

C'mon. Take me to bed. Help me. Don't let me go.

[ well… yeah? because up until twenty minutes ago, shiro was off keith’s radar of possible hookups. keith specifically said, he wasn’t ready for shiro to see him like this: aroused and absolutely thirsty for dick. that’s a pretty clear indication that keith, actual keith, not this drugged up version, wants shiro’s dick nowhere near his hole.

he doesn’t even bother to disguise his frown or his sigh as keith drapes himself against him. shiro ought to know better by now and – actually, yes, he’s finally learning, because this is the last straw. he’s gentle at least, when he finds each other keith’s wrists and drags his arms down and away. holding them together in the space he forces between their bodies, shiro looks to keith’s face and musters a smile that doesn’t reach his eyes. ]

Okay. You win. [ he brushes the thumb of his left over the pulse point in keith’s wrist and here, his voice rings more honest. ] I’ll help you.

[ just… not in the way keith imagines. he nods behind keith and then catches his gaze once more, letting go of both wrists as he does so. ]

Lie down on the bed. I just need to get something from the locker.

[ keith frowns, shaking his head. try as he might, his amusement is loudand clear when he follows up with: ]

I just said don't let me go.

[he gives his trapped hands a playful wiggle. ]

You're not listening. So gimme a reason I should listen to you.

[ when he looks up to meet shiro's eye, his expression is expectant, lips parted in not-so-subtle anticipation. ]

Seal it with a kiss.

[ god dammit, keith. a few wrinkles appear between his brows as he draws them in, expression turning thoughtful and… pouty, quite honestly, to be called out. shiro is listening and doing his best to appease both impaired keith and what he believes actual keith would want. he’s only given a moment to consider what magical phrase he’s meant to construct in order to get keith to finally, finally follow his orders, because in the next beat, keith throws a figurative hand grenade at him.

surprise smooths out those wrinkles and he blinks hard, eyes opening wider. ]

Uh…

[ but he’s marginally better at recovering from the whiplash. he clamps his mouth shut and finds a more neutral expression, eyes slightly narrowing as he regards keith. gaze to his lips, to his nose, to his left cheek, to his right… and staying there over that scar he’s yet to ask about. will he ever? he's curious, but he’s empathetic to not wanting to discuss scars. afterall, he has a pretty nasty one in the center of his face. he hates it any time someone’s gaze stays there too long…

… and look at that, shiro is still staring at keith’s. his expression twitches, mouth briefly bunching tight together as frustration for himself takes hold… but in the next moment, he pinches keith’s chin and angles his face to turn. he ducks in and presses his lips to his cheek, right below his eye, to the point of that scar. two seconds of pressure and he lets off, straightening back up. ]

Now?

[ believe him? ]

[ .... oh is the single thought in keith's head when shiro pinches his chin. the uptick in his mood doesn't sour necessarily when the kiss doesn't end up exactly where he wanted it, but keith pouts for an extended after shiro pulls away.

hands on his hips, and for once not actually in a frenzy to take off his pants, keith holds the stubborn posture. ]

That's not what I meant.

[ ... and then he snorts, grin softening into a warm smile. a hand comes up to cover up his cheek, self consciously, but the look in his eyes is endeared. the burn scar's long since healed, sensation duller over that part of his face. there's something ... deeper to the idea of shiro being the one to kiss that scar, but whatever complicated feeling it should invoke is sweetened by aphrodisiac. keith looks up, expression moony and wanting. ]

... but you should kiss me there more often. Heh. And then kiss my other cheeks.

[ shiro knows the ones. but just in case, keith turns around, gently bumps his ass to shiro's crotch and then very obdeiently goes to sit on the bed. arms tug his white tank top up over his head, flicking it over the side before lying back with his arms crossed behind his head. ]

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