earthshine | reparacija ic inbox

[ please, i’ll be good. ah. that has such a nice ring to it. briefly, shiro allows himself to bask in the suggestion of it, thinking if only in that miniscule span of time. but then the second runs through itself and shiro is left scoffing. ]

You think I believe that?

[ shiro had just been kicking himself backward, broadening the distance between them. now though, he jerks forward, landing on all fours as he crawls forward, movements rushed in his attempt to beat keith to the pillow. ]

You’re already going for the pillow, you brat.

[ shiro is a poet. ]

[ ineffectually going for the pillow, mind you. with the boots still on, keith hasn't actually dared violate the sanctity of shiro's new bed by climbing up, dirty heels and all, just to snatch up the pillow.

which is to say, shiro easily grabs at the thing first, leaving keith wide open for attack. he smiles, mustering up as much innocence as he can. ]

Well yeah? I didn't want you throwing it at me. You expect me to just lie here defenselessly?

[ oh no, the poetry is contagious. ]

[ pillow successfully reclaimed, shiro holds it in a metal fist and turns, looking to keith. he eyes up that innocent smile, suspicion radiating off of him. without a shadow of a doubt, keith is waiting for him to drop his guard, isn’t he? shiro thinks yes and adjusts his grip, holding the pillow in front of himself between both hands. ]

Yeah.

[ that is what shiro expects, if keith actually wants to play nice and cuddle up tonight. ]

So say it. Say you yield.

[ then maybe they can stop tussling over pillows long enough to figure out what it is they’re doing. ]

[ considering shiro's got quite the solid grip on that pillow, keith can see there's no trust here. he pouts, actually pouts this exaggerated uppity thing with a curl of his lips and folds his arms. ]

Hmph. Put the pillow down first. Then I'll yield as much as you like.

[ shiro would like to point out that keith is still making demands. fortunately, shiro does not point this out. instead, he holds keith’s gaze for two, three agonizingly long beats and then with exaggerated delicacy, places the pillow down on the bedding.

he pulls his hands back and then raises his eyebrows high, punctuating the silent, yet very expectant your turn. ]

[ keith watches as shiro goes through the motions with exaggerated emphasis. it's ridiculous enough that it takes a damn near miracle for keith not to laugh. maybe he would have, if he hadn't started pushing himself up to a sitting position before he's worked out what exactly the plan is.

why is there even a plan anyway? "i yield" is what shiro wanted to hear and keith promised to give him as much. but there's something about the expectant look on shiro's face that draws keith in close. closer, leaving a few scant inches between their faces when he casually bumps shiro's shoulder with his own. ]

I yield.

[ he huffs then, a little helpless in his amusement. ]

And I wanna enjoy your bed properly, but I have to take off my pants to take off the ridiculous boots. Annoying, huh?

[ keith has to know what he’s doing. has to. even if it ends with a shoulder bump, there’s no explanation for the closeness other than the obvious one: keith’s flirting with him. the fact that shiro always comes to this realization in equal measures of surprise and awe is pathetic on so many levels. they’ve talked about this. sure, the momentum hasn’t built beyond the glacier pace of that first day, aside from the occasional surge of bravery that’s earned them two kisses, but.. they’ve talked about this. they both want this, to some degree, it’s just a matter of exploring this attraction and seeing if there’s more to it. if they could be more.

keith says i yield and shiro should chase him. he should snatch the space between them, just like he snatche the victory, and then maybe, kiss number four would do the job and clear the uncertainty between them. but shiro thinks too much. he doesn’t impulsively lean and then the moment is gone, dissipated by keith’s soft huff and playful words. all at once, shiro’s focus shifts, as does his gaze. he actually shifts back slightly and looks to keith’s orange yoga pants.

right. underneath there, keith’s still wearing the thigh highs. shiro knew this, yet didn’t? he was laughing about the heels ten minutes ago. he saw them. he just didn’t think far enough along to be bothered by it. and he is bothered by it, suddenly picturing keith on his bed, yoga pants gone and thigh highs still on. he can’t see himself but he knows his face is telling; he can feel all his infatuation and attraction honeying his expression, making his gaze hazy and faraway, images in his head so cleary distracting him from the present. the knee jerk reaction is to shake his head, downplay his desire and say something flippant, to keep them within the comfortable parameters of their friendship.

but he already chickened out on the kiss. he can’t chicken out on this too. ]

Not really, no. [ he raises his gaze from keith’s thighs, looking to his face and smiling boyishly. ] Not for me.

[ because while shiro is hard pressed to find a list of positives to that whole porno experience, he can admit with certainty that keith, at the very least, didn’t look ridiculous. he should’ve. but the boy’s got legs for days and even clad in black, shiny boots that are almost as long as pants, he somehow made it attractive. so getting a second peek at that? not annoying for shiro.

he laughs in the aftermath, unfortunately falling prey to some self-consciousness. he pushes on though, teasing back: ]

What is annoying is I need to change outta these too. [ he is not sleeping in these safari shorts. they aren’t far off from the size of his boxers, but nonetheless, he’s not sleeping in these. ] Looks like we’re both in for some stripping.

[ keith follows shiro's gaze down to his thighs, but for once doesn't flush. clearly, the problem hasn't been communicated properly if shiro thinks leg being on view is the crux of the issue.

then again, perhaps there isn't an issue at all. keith still can't articulate to himself or anyone else what exactly him and shiro are doing here, but it's not nothing and in that tiny wedge of potential, maybe more glimpses of skin aren't unwarranted or unwanted. maybe it could even be nice to share glimpses without a gaggle of bathhouse women or lon sheremi and crew around? keith rolls his lower lip between his teeth for a beat, then manages a shy smile back. ]

Do you want some privacy? Or ...

[ keith doesn't finish the rest of the question, rather hoping the alternative spells itself out. ]

[ their naked teleportation adventure wasn’t all that long ago. in comparison, shucking off some shorts – and possibly his long sleeve if he’s feeling particularly bold – is easy. afterall, he doesn’t have much to hide anymore: no scars, no intimate bits. everything’s been on display, so – yes, easy.

taking off the clothes himself though, is a big step in itself. it means something, doesn’t it? does he want it to mean something? god, he’s backtracking by overthinking again. he focuses on that shy smile instead and allows it to lead him, his eyes never straying even as he shakes his head slowly. ]

No.

[ and he thinks he owes keith this: him standing up from the bed first, to be the one to unbutton and fiddle and start them down this way. he’ll be the one to put himself out there, for once; keith’s done it enough times already. so button undone and he turns, face keith even as he takes one, two backward steps from the bed, just to give himself more space. ]

I don’t mind if you peek. [ a beat and easy smile. ] Or do more than peek.

That's...

[ that's....?? don't ask keith what that in the span of seconds, keith's gone tongue tied again, eyes a little owlish as he watches shiro retreat from the bed. despite getting the green light to watch, it's hard to beat down months upon months of deliberately looking away out of respect. shiro's a lot of things to keith, and high among them is the idea that his best friend is off limits and unavailable.

they've been toeing that line of late, trading one or two chaste kisses and all, but boundaries that have been meticulously kept don't come down so easily, even with porn prison's constant wrecking ball tendencies.

his heart skips a beat as keith blinks hard and obviously as he watches shiro's fingers work to open up his shorts. only then does heat start creeping back up along his cheeks and ears as it occurs to keith that he probably shouldn't be a passive observer in peeking... and whatever "more" necessarily implies in this context. he stands, still looking a little dazed as he laughs nervously. ]

More?

[ the question is stupid. sounds even stupider ringing in his ears. keith flusters, looking down sharply at his yoga pants. there's nothing but elastic keeping them on his hips, so a sharp tug would have them down and his stupid jock strap and thigh highs would be on full display. slipping his thumbs under the waistband, keith hesitates a beat before pulling down slowly. ]

Edited 2022-07-16 04:35 (UTC)

[ shiro gets it. he’s been slow in pursuing and now that they’ve endured an awkward experience together involving suggestion and skimpy clothing, he’s suddenly pushing forward to explore the attraction between them…? yeah, okay, he’ll give it to keith: it’s inconsistent. shiro’s inconsistent. so shiro deserves that wide-eyed, almost disbelieving stare. he tries not to let it rattle him. it’s tempting though, to piggyback off keith’s awkwardness and dissolve into his own sheepish laughter. he forces down the urge, briefly pressing his lips together hard and twisting them together, before managing: ]

Yeah. [ now for a casual shrug of his shoulders. ] Like watch.

[ since shiro will, apparently, be the one peeking now. he does so, with his chin dipped down toward the working of his hands and his eyes up, watching keith’s thumbs hook at his waistband. ]

Or – that. You can do that.

[ strip. technically, he hasn’t been extended the same permission, though shiro is certain it is implied. still, he shies his gaze away and works through the unzip to push his fly open. there’s a glimpse of the black fabric of his boxer-briefs. their beloved costume designer found the tightness of his underwear to be adequate for the scene, so at least he got to keep something halfway decent on. unlike keith who had… to…

wait. didn’t judy say keith is wearing a –

he jerks his gaze to keith, seeing the pants already worked down enough to reveal thick bands over keith’s hips. ]

Oh. You’re still wearing, um… [ and, apparently, shiro will be upgrading from peeking to watching, a faint bit of color to his face. ]

[ watch. it's such an obvious next step, but an overactive imagination has definitely gotten the better of keith. delirious on possibilities like undressing each other and kissing, watching lands like a bucket of ice dumped over his head. nothing like reality for sobering. ]

Oh...

[ recovering quickly, but not quick enough to completely mask the disappointment, keith flushes harder -- more from embarrassment than with the knowledge that shiro is looking at him. he clears his throat, then pushes the pants down his thighs, wincing again at how small the fucking strip of fabric covering his dick looks when the red fabric peeks out over the top of his yoga pants. ]

...yeah, it's pretty bad, huh.

[ meaning he should stop stripping and excuse himself to change in the corner while shiro isn't looking. probably. ]

[ pretty bad, he says. pretty bad. huh. in that case, shiro needs to do a mental check of his facial expression. there’s a strain to his eyes, signaling that he hasn’t blinked in the usual, allotted time, just a touch too infatuated with what is unfolding before him to complete menial tasks. he’s pink, he can feel the heat holding in his cheeks. at least his mouth is closed, though, shit his damn teeth have caught the bottom lip. he makes sure to soften his mouth in the next beat, but altogether, he’s pretty sure he’s projecting quite the opposite of someone thinking pretty bad.

this is keith though. his obliviousness would be charming if it didn’t burden shiro with the necessity to spell things out. actually – fuck – it’s still charming, that keith can be so blind to his own attractiveness. shiro simply wishes this were easier. that it felt more natural. he thinks he could feel like that, eventually; they just need to push past a few hurdles and – ]

No.

[ it takes a beat, but he manages a smile, his gaze flicking up to check keith’s face. ]

Not bad.

[ and just because he’s a fantastic best friend, he’ll hurry up in his stripping, so keith isn’t the only one on display. granted, boxer-briefs are modest compared to a jockstrap, but shiro’s got the shorts down to his ankles and he’s stepping out of them. he laughs on the straighten up, folding the shorts over and in on themselves. ]

I can’t believe it’s red, though. [ he wants to keep looking, truthfully, but he keeps his gaze on keith’s face for now, voice teasing in hopes of easing the awkwardness. ] Should we call it fate?

...no?

[ fuck. keith grimaces the nanosecond after the repetition. apparently, this is where he is now -- cursed to repeat inanely while his pants are halfway down his thighs. kicking himself mentally, he peels one boot clad leg out of the first leg hole and only looks up again after the laugh.

really, it's less a voluntary glance up and one that's reactionary and chagrined. keith almost starts to protest, but the following tease is so ridiculous that he hiccups an involuntary laugh instead. ]

Shiro.

[ part incredulous, part tickled keith hisses the name as he gets his other leg out of his pants. truth be told, it's awkward to be standing here clad in boots, a tank top and even less than a speedo to cover up his privates. it's a look and a half, and keith doesn't have the confidence to pull it off with a strut and his head held high. his dick doesn't feel properly constrained and for that matter, the air on his bare asscheeks feels bizarre, but if there's comfort to be found here, it's in the instinct for retaliation. he kicks up his pants, grabs it by the leg and tosses it at shiro's face with a laugh. ]

Don't imply that I was destined to wear this, okay.

[ it is a look and a half, yeah, which is right on point with keith’s usual taste in fashion. shiro is doing considerably better. he’s got the long sleeve, boxer-briefs and normal, boring white socks. oh, and keith’s yoga pants caught on his shoulder. see, shiro tries for a duck but doesn’t quite make it, laughter immediately kicking up in his chest and spilling free as he pulls the ball of orange fabric off. ]

But maybe you were!

[ shorts in one hand, pants in the other, shiro balls up each as best he can and then does the very mature – and likely expected – move of throwing them back at keith. he huffs as he then, immediately, hops up on the bed, turning mid-hop to plop his bottom down on the edge. he bounces with the recoil of the mattress, barely pausing as he folds over his lap to reach for his feet. ]

Everyone knows red is your signature color.

[ no. in fact, not everyone knows that. but shiro’s grinning wide and tugging off his socks, tossing those, one after the other, at keith too for good measure. ]

[ oh. oh so they're definitively back to throwing things at each other, huh? keith laughs, managing to dodge the volley of pants and shorts with a well timed hop to the side, but stiletto heels being what they are, keith wobbles on the landing and twists around with another hop to keep himself from losing his balance completely.

too bad this means both socks hit him smack dab on the ass cheeks before bouncing off harmlessly. feeling sheepish once again, keith clears his throat, keith entertains the thought of tossing shiro's socks right back at him until he realizes that would entail bending over. faltering visibly, keith awkwardly swings himself back around to face shiro head on and tries not to look down at himself. ]

Because it's the best color. And it looks good on me.

[ ... wait. his brow pinches. ]

Uh... not this though.

[ at some point, the novelty of seeing keith’s ass will wear off. at some point, shiro will be able to receive a glimpse of two perfectly round ass cheeks and not almost swallow his tongue. today, they are not at that point. shiro makes a soft noise in his throat, part choking and part protesting, although a good portion of him does not, in fact, protest to any of this. he’s seen keith’s bare ass a few times now and oddly enough, the twin strips of fabric make this more obscene. he thinks, maybe, this is on par with keith stripped naked and bent over his bed. the underwear accentuates the curves and the size, giving each cheek a lift that makes them look plumper than he remembers.

and shiro remembers, frequently and in detail, especially when he’s alone in his cot, staring at the ceiling.

here, he doesn’t stare at the ceiling and he’s trying to convince himself to. instead, he drinks in the eyeful for as long as he’s able, up until the moment keith twists back around. shiro, remembering himself, lifts his gaze, though it’s slow with a dazed sort of quality. it takes him another moment, but he gets there eventually: keith is putting himself down.

sort of.

at the very least, he’s downplaying any affect he has here and shiro is tempted, as he always is, to revert back to the safety of their preestablished boundaries. don’t acknowledge the attraction, don’t spell it out for keith, don’t try – where has that gotten him these past weeks?

he draws in a breath and releases it slow, finding a softened smile as his lungs empty. he’s going to do this. he’s going to try. he wants to. ]

You look good, Keith.

[ he holds keith’s gaze and then deliberately lets it trail down, sweeping slow and approvingly from eyes to chest to hips to thighs. ]

The outfit is… what it is, but… [ and right back up the same way to find keith’s eyes. ] You’re hot. [ and just to be sure it’s spelled out enough for keith to understand: ] I think you’re hot.

[ for better or for worse, the admission makes keith burst into incredulous laughter. how could it not? there are times keith's thought maybe he could pass for looking cool. usually that involved having a sword in his hand and a space wolf at his side. wearing a white tank top, a red jock strap and thigh highs is the most awkward he's ever felt wearing clothes and this? this of all things is what prompts shiro to tell him he's hot?

keith laughs and laughs, clutching his stomach and wheezing for air with the widest grin on his face when he thinks he can finally hold eye contact without laughing all over again. ]

Sorry -- [ he's quick to clarify between little gasps for air. he coughs, then smiles so hard his cheeks ache. ] Heh. It's not you, it's just -- I feel really ridiculous.

[ maybe his sense of self awareness is broken considering he'll wear a midriff jacket and go go boots without so much as registering what's wrong with the outfit. keith sucks down a deep breath then lets it out with another laugh, softer this time and accompanied by a distinctly mischievous glint as giddiness dusts his cheeks pink. ]

Heh. So that's what you like? The scantily clad look?

[ … okay. shiro’s got the softest, sweetest spot for a happy keith. it’s a side that doesn’t come out nearly as often as it should and so, shiro’s weak for the wide grins and the peels of laughter that aren’t at all self-conscious. he wants keith to be this delighted, always… just, maybe not when it’s directed at shiro finally mustering up the courage to put words to his attraction. shiro’s rusty, he gets that, but he didn’t know his flirting was that bad…

is hot not a hip word to use anymore? it’s been awhile since he’s been on the market or on earth, for that matter, so…

does he sound old-timery?

the laughed through explanation helps clear some of that up, however, it does little to reverse that silly, awkward feeling of putting himself out there. he knows keith means nothing cruel by it, at least. still, keith gets that mischievous look and shiro, stubborn and embarrassed, huffs as he scoots back on the bed, drawing his legs up onto it. ]

No, you lost your privileges to honesty hour. I’m not telling you anything.

[ it’s not a lost cause though. he does crack a smile. the feeling enduring, but some teasing infiltrating his voice nonetheless. ]

You laughed at me, you goon.

[ uh oh. shiro is retracting, both physically and rhetorically. as always, keith registers his faux pas late, but this time rather than giving shiro space and another apology, keith feels a little emboldened. maybe being called "hot" even while wearing a terrible outfit really does do miracles or maybe it's just the teasing atmosphere who can really say?

one way or another, as shiro shuffles back onto the bed, keith follows, hands pressing down on the mattress on either side of shiro's hips, caging slightly as he leans in, mere inches between their faces. he's still grinning hard, clearly having given zero thought to the fact that his asscheeks are as bare as ever and easily looked at down the line of his back. ]

I want honesty hour back.

[ heart hammering in his chest, keith shaves another inch and bumps the tip of his nose to shiro's. ]

Please?

[ so keith’s not going to let shiro escape, huh? keith's good at that: giving chase when shiro wanders too far. shiro thinks he would have anticipated it better if keith’s modesty were intact. it’s not, however, and so, when keith bends over and sticks his hands to the bedding, shiro blinks wide, elongating his expression with raised brows and a slack mouth. his gaze darts over keith’s shoulder because curiosity is damning and the fuzzy glimpse of rounded ass cheeks in the background isn’t nearly enough to settle it. he gets one full beat of white fabric bunching at the small of keith’s back, that then gives to a thick band and the swell of a pretty ass, but then the beat passes and keith’s crowding in.

shiro’s breath stops. he goes still, both hands pressed to the bedding to steady his position, and it’s like that, partly leaned back, that shiro wanders off again. he goes lost. it’s okay though, because keith is right here to find him, with his nose brushing his and encompassing all of shiro’s world, filling all of his vision with his closeness.

he called him hot before, but shiro thinks now, it doesn’t do him justice. he’s gorgeous. with the framing of his hair, the color of his irises, the sharpness of his cheekbones, his chin, his nose. even the scar that tapers from jawline to his eye only enhances his face, showcasing the strength shiro knows keith packs away in his body, in his soul.

he’s beautiful, so: ]

It’s not the scantily clad look.

[ not entirely. shiro’s a human man in his prime, with working bits and a libido that isn’t quite dead, thanks, so of course seeing skin has him warming and thinking and feeling certain things. the jockstrap and thigh high boots though? it’s not that. ]

It’s just the… you look.

[ he smiles helplessly at the end of that. if he thought he lacked game before, now… – was that too cheesy? does it count as cheesy if it’s true? ]

[ being crowded into shiro's space is a double edged sword. sure, shiro can't hide from him when they're close together, but neither can keith. honestly, keith thinks he should be above any juvenile thrill from being told he's attractive. it's silly, through and through, to be putting any worth into something so superficial, isn't it? besides, if his appearance mattered all that much to him, keith would have cut his supposed eye-sore mullet ages ago.

he's twentyone, head of voltron and a member of the blade of marmora. hardened by war, loss and the heavy weight of making life or death calls that he tries not to overanalyze with hindsight. it's partly why being here, looking every bit like a victim of an intergalactic sex trafficking ring put up for ogling has punched right through the boundaries of keith's comfort zone.

but the thing is? here, in this moment, keith doesn't feel any of those things. not his usual festering resentment for his captors, not the background white noise of shame. instead, it's just shiro and him alone in his cube, together, his heart beating fast behind his sternum because someone amazing thinks he's desirable.

maybe that doesn't really mean a whole lot, considering this place is full of people shiro's presumably been fucking for credits, but keith is determined not to think anyone else. just them. a guy and his best friend. ]

The me look....

[ the mood had been teasing up until then, but keith doesn't manage to hold onto it. instead, his expression softens. grin easing into a moonier smile, keith murmurs: ]

I like the you-look, too.

[ and with that, he steals the sliver of space between the lips and seals it with a soft kiss. ]

[ so maybe shiro’s still got some game left in him. his eyelids slip close and he softens the press of his mouth, humming a quiet, approving sound. close-lipped and chaste, the kiss is similar to all those that have come before. he likes it though, slow and sweet like this. it’s a comfort in its own way, that despite how fast-paced and chaotic everything can become out there, with the whims of the prison, they can still take their time together.

tentative in affection and careful in execution, it’s their way. they’re doing it their way. and for the first time, it feels natural to lift a hand to keith’s face and cup a hand over his scar. to gently thumb at the seam of his lips to his cheek and then nudge his mouth closer, parting his own to give the faintest taste of wet heat as he tries for something deeper.

only a taste though, because this kiss is similar to those before, remember? and a commonality between them all is that they’re brief. he pulls back with a smile and a flutter of his lashes, his expression bewitched with heavy affection. ]

So.

[ he’s still got his hand on keith’s face, thumb skimming in a crescent moon shape over his cheek. he drops his hand soon enough and falls back on the comfort of teasing, both hands to the bedding to manually pull himself backwards to escape the cage of keith’s hands. ]

How about you finish taking those boots off and come lie down with me?

[ it takes an embarrassingly small amount of effort on shiro's part to make keith's heart skip beats. the part of his face that's scarred over is numb from having nerve endings burned away, so the patchwork sensation of fingers and palm on his face is strange, but not unwelcome. keith leans into the touch, angling for a light nuzzle while their lips stay pressed together.

he doesn't expect this to last long -- none of their kisses do. but he's bainted into thinking otherwise when shiro parts his lips and keith actually gasps, suddenly unsure of how to work tongues into this without being a sloppy mess.

in the end, he doesn't have to work it out. shiro pulls away, leaving keith caught feeling warm and disappointed. really, he shouldn't be disappointed at all because a hard on is difficult to hide with pants on. and fucking impossible to do so when all he's got on is a jock strap. keith clears his throat, taking a half step back and straightening up as shiro scoots further away. ]

Mm...

[ he sits, resisting the urge to lick his lips as he tugs the zipper down one of his boots. ]

Should probably change back into my normal boxers too.

[ the outfit truly is atrocious. shiro gets an eyeful of keith standing there, red jockstrap, white tank and black thigh highs, and then he gets a glimpse of skin. the boy turns to sit and of course shiro’s gaze zeroes in, but then the mattress dips and shiro breathes out a barely there laugh, part chastising himself as he shakes his head. ]

If that’ll make you more comfortable.

[ honestly, it would likely make shiro feel more comfortable too. he’s riding high on momentum right now: a few things have clicked into place and the relief is overwhelming, as well as the excitement. but he isn’t so foolish to think that it will continue to go this smoothly if there’s a lull, in which the two of them are curled close, keith nearly naked from the waist down.

it’s a lot. not bad a lot, but – a lot.

he picks up the pillow and plops it down, butted against the headboard. he stretches out then: head to the pillow and feet to the other end of the bed, flat on his back with his head turned toward keith. he reaches out a hand, having just enough reach to brush the tips of his fingers to keith’s back. ]

I want you to feel comfortable here.

[ with him. ]

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it's a new day and i am once again back to needlessly long tags.

you are back in your final form

i have de-evolved.

unforgiveable

where's that penguin gif

Re: where's that penguin gif

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