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Hi, this is Shiro.
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[ turns out writing a note for an anonymous hook-up to then leave inside a book on the same shelf turned glory hole from a week ago is tougher than it sounds. it sounds stupid too and that’s right on the money. this is stupid, but the alternative is passing another night staring at his cube’s ceiling, failing at not thinking about keith getting off in that same cot, yet succeeding at his refusal to squeeze one out. consciously, at least. his body betrayed him last night. first by giving into exhaustion. second by still having enough energy to conjure up a nightmare. no, not the usual kind with galra and blood and screaming. this one had featured keith and a distinct lack of platonic friendliness. shiro woke up to drool on his pillow and him grinding a wet spot into the bedding.

so. drastic times call for drastic measures.

finding a willing partner wouldn’t be so difficult, but being shiro requires thought and a screening process that’s too exhausting for his frayed patience to follow through with. the man from the library took shiro without shiro even having to breathe a word. that’s what shiro wants; a reprieve. he wants a stolen moment in which he doesn’t have to think about how he will be perceived. just once more, just to get this pent-up, horrifically inappropriate want out of his system, and then he’ll go back to his more measured, yet persistent approach to his sentence sheet.

in the meantime, he’ll stick with the long-shot chance of his anonymous man passing by their shelf and not only seeing the note, but responding to it. it’s been a few hours now and upon his first inconspicuous check, his note had been there, still peeking out of a short, thin book, sandwiched between two tall, hefty novels, all standing at eye level right above where anonymous man made a mess.

Can’t stop thinking about you. Round 2?

he’d had longer notes, some even explaining how he hasn’t gotten off that good in ages, but ultimately, he’d settled for short and to the point. besides, if someone else finds it first, at least there’s nothing incriminating. so, with his first check a bust, shiro will be back in another few hours. hopefully his luck will turn around by then. ]

[ consciously or not, keith has been avoiding the library ever since that morning he wound up sucking dick while halfway wedged into a bookshelf. it seems rational enough to be weary, considering the asshole librarian armed with aphrodisiac, but the argument doesn't hold water in the broader context of needing information. so far the books keith has found are gibberish, but that doesn't mean all of them necessarily are.

knowledge or death had been the blade of marmora philosophy and keith is doing a rubbish job of living up to that. then again, he couldn't say with any degree of certainty what it is either kolivan or krolia would do in the name of pursuing knowledge here. for the best, really. bad enough that all of the paladins with the exception of allura are here, the last thing they need are more people showing up from home. all the more so when his mother is involved.

so that's one big argument for going back to the library.

the arguments against are harder to untangle in part because he's told himself repeatedly that there is nothing to untangle, leaving keith with nothing but a cloud of unspecified hypothetical anxiety.nobody stopped him that day, and for all he knows nobody saw him either as he furiously jerked himself off while choking. after all, he didn't get any extra credits for checking off voyeurism on other people's sentencing.

what gets keith to just finally barge his way into the library is a hatred of cowardice. it's ridiculous to be ashamed of something he did while under the influence and it's equally as ridiculous to be apprehensive about his own sexuality. he's not into choking, not into being mistreated and despite everything he's said and done while high on aphro, he's not into submitting.

glaring at nothing in particular, keith marches past the shelves and grimaces as he passes by that shelf. halfway expecting to see white sticky stains over the lower shelves, keith is moderately surprised to see that it's been cleaned up. even more surprised when he spots a note sticking out from one of the books.

what keith tells himself is irrational apprehension proves not to be so irrational when he looks at the paper and reads the message. can’t stop thinking about you. round 2? keith practically jerks back, eyes darting left to right to make sure he's actually alone back here.

frankly, it should be insulting. whoever this guy was, he took advantage of keith while he was in a compromised state and far more willing than normal to perform and please. fucking asshole had the nerve to shove his dick down his throat,forced him to swallow a load before splashing more on his face. keith crumples the note in his hands, taking several deep breaths as he rests against the shelf.

yeah. anger. that's all he should be feeling. he could tell this guy to fuck right off.

one minute passes. one minute then becomes fifteen and keith hasn't written anything incendiary. keith closes his eyes, taking several deep breaths, heart beating way too fast for a benign situation. ting is? sex is complicated. it's messed up his friendship with lance, and despite shiro's insistence otherwise, keith suspects it's going to be awkward between them for a long time.

but it's not awkward with this stranger. in fact, this stranger's the only one who's said outright that they want him again. the pathetic misery of that being the case isn't lost on keith, but being in porn prison's at least made him see that neglecting his own need for touch adn sexual affirmation doesn't fucking help anything either. teeth grit and frustrated with the mess of his social life, keith finally, a full half hour later, uncrumples the note and writes back: ]

You plan on reciprocating this time?

[ and with that slipped back into the book, keith makes his exit. ]

[ imagine that, he got an answer. he doesn’t quite believe it, even as he’s standing there in the aisle, clutching the note that now has two lines. it’s crumbled in a way that has shiro curious, but not quite so invested to start looting around for probable answers. instead, he focuses on the only thing that matters here: he got an answer. now what the fuck is he meant to do with that? given the amount of time that has passed since his arrival and subsequent meeting at that shelf, shiro started this endeavor eighty-percent convinced he’d missed any chance of making contact. so he’s a little lacking in the planning stage beyond step one.

he’s got a pen though. for all his doubt, he’s harbored enough hope to keep a pen in his jacket pocket. using the designated note holding book as the backing, shiro smoothes the note over it and clicks the pen to have the ballpoint engage. only to then do nothing.

now that round two is a go, shiro hesitates. though, he might be getting ahead of himself. is it a go? you plan on reciprocating this time? shiro rereads that scrawl and frowns. that reads a lot like a a requirement, rather than a hopeful suggestion. shiro tries to picture it: this time, him on his knees, servicing a dick in a small, enclosed space, having no idea who it is he’s got his lips sealed around. without the aphro muddling up his clarity, it should be off putting. disgusting even.

heh. should be.

he taps the end of the pen a few times against the note. does he want to do this? yes. where does he want to do this? not here. how are they going to do this? he doesn’t know. but he supposes he doesn’t have to write out instructions yet. patience. don’t be to presumptuous. he’ll figure out the details while he waits for an answer. until then, he’ll jot down: ]

If you stick around long enough for me to.

[ if the man lasts long enough for shiro to, too. he huffs a brief, amused sound and tucks the note into the book, setting it on the shelf. then he leaves, trying not to draw too much attention to himself as he does so, knowing that he’ll be back in an hour or two to check. ]

[ if shiro was expecting to come back to an answer within the next hour, he'll be sadly disappointed. even six hours later there won't be a message scrawled back. no -- keith lets this note sit for a full day, only returning to the library the following afternoon because ... okay, there's no reason other than a pinch of pettiness. the guy made him swallow semen, keith is going to make him wait and sweat over his next blow. it's not a fair trade in keith's favor, but fuck it he'll take every tiny victory, every grab at power in whatveer relationship they're building together.

and boy does he not regret his choices when he reads the note. of course his anonymous buddy expects to be pleasured first. keith actually snorts, teetering between annoyed and amused. his message is quick and to the point. ]

Find a better place and I'll stick around.

[ and off he goes. ]

[ so. becoming annoyed with someone you’ve never officially met. that’s an interesting mindspace to be in. shiro’s revisited the library five times since his reply. at two hours. at six. once more before lights out. a drive-by before breakfast. the fifth check three hours after that. he’s on his sixth try now, mid-afternoon, a full day later. he’s getting the vibe that mr. mystery is fucking with him. why reply and then disappear? there isn’t that much to do around the prison and they are, more or less, free to roam as they please, so shiro’s having a hard time understanding what’s holding up the reply.

least to say, he’s repeated his mantra encouraging patience numerous times, to the point that even he’s growing tired of it.

so forgive him, he’s a touch wary and a touch annoyed when he writes back a reply. ]

This isn’t the jerking around I wanted from you.
If you’re serious, 3+ housing block, 2nd house from the pool.
8 tonight.

[ annnnnd he’s leaving. ]

[ keith isn't necessarily optimistic about getting a reply back in a timely manner though he checks the library about two hours after leaving his note. there's a good chance that this guy might've given up or moved on, and if that's the case -- then maybe it's for the best. lines like "can't stop thinking about you" are merely that -- lines. they don't have to mean anything, much less be true. being friends with lance and listening to his flirtation is walking, talking proof of that, isn't it?

so. keith doesn't know what his expectations are anymore. he walks into the library, still checking guiltily before plucking the book out of the shelf. to his surprise, there's a longer, snippy note this time, no longer even attempting to be cajoling or sweet. instead it's straight to the point with a time adn place. keith pinches the bridge of his nose, exhaling heavily.

well. it's not disappointing because an anonymous tryst is the last place keith would ever think to look for genuine affection, but it is a bit of a wake up call. looks like he has to make a final decision one way or another here, huh? going along with this is stupid on so many counts but porn prison is inherently stupid and conventions like decency and normalcy just don't fucking exist. keith tells himself this, but he can all too easily see and hear shiro lecturing away in his head about risk and --

fuck. he doesn't want to think about shiro in any capacity adjacent to sex right now. or ever, really. there'd been too much of that already and it doesn't go anywehre good. in fact, it arguably just leads straight down the path of hooking up with strangers to get it out of his system. say whatever else about the encounter, this guy had a nice dick.

keith closes his eyes, letting out a disbelieving huff at the parody of bad decisions he's apparently becoming. he sits at a table for several minutes, pretending to read the keyboard smash language and clicks his pen. ]

Fine. But only under the condition that we stick to the arrangement we had last time. You don't try to find out who I am and I won't try to figure you out either. Deal?

[ because that's the only real appeal here. he doesn't have to be keith, he doesn't have to be judged, he can just deal with the things he wants and will allow without any scrutiny or judgment. without that, this is all meaningless. keith slips the note back into the book and replaces it on the shelf.

then he's gone. ]

[ shiro gave the time and the place; he didn’t intend to come back to the library. however, there’s time yet before the potential meeting. and so, the more the clock ticks by and the more he considers the prospect of waiting inside that rundown, dump of a house, wondering if mr. mysterious even agreed in the end, shiro begins to reconsider his decisions. having been here enough times within a thirty-five hour period, bnjw’vr knows him by sight now. any grievance from the week or so ago has long since been buried and as shiro passes, he gives a dutiful – and silent – hello with a single wave of his hand. trudging to the all too familiar back corner of one row of books, shiro rounds to the bookshelf and plucks out the note.

good. keep it anonymous. they agree on that much.

shiro thinks of the house he’s claimed. temporarily. there’s no real stopping someone from moving in on that territory but seeing as this is a last shot, one time deal, shiro isn’t all that concerned with keeping people out beyond tonight. if someone decides to move in, however, they will have to make due with the three, no, four holes he’s butchered three different walls and one door with. he finally got the height, circumference, and angle right with the forth, as well as settled for a door because yes, it took him three punches of his galra hand to realize that every wall is going to be four inches thick with drywall on each side.

so his fourth hole? upstairs, in the hallway bathroom door. it’s a clean fist-sized hole, the edges meticulously smoothed out and made even. the flooring is wooden and slightly rotted, but there’s open space and privacy. he comes out of these thoughts with a gentle shake of his head and just as before, uses the book as a makeshift clipboard as he puts pen to paper. ]

Deal.
I’ll get there earlier so we don’t cross paths. No talking.
Everything is set up, it should be more comfortable for both of us this time.
~~See y~~

[ see you tonight, bah. they aren’t seeing each other at all. anonymous, remember? it’s in pen, so he simply draws a line through the abandoned sentiment. he debates what to write instead in parting. can’t wait to feel you. looking forward to tasting you. thank you for agreeing to meet. each one is more pathetic than the last. he never does put something; someone comes walking down his aisle and panicked, shiro crumbles the note further to stuff it in his pocket. by the time the person finds their book and leaves, shiro is all too eager to get out of there. so he folds the note properly and sticks it into the book, shelving it.

and with that, he swiftly ducks out. ]

[ with about 45 minutes to go before their agreed meeting time, keith meanders back to the library to check for a reply. he finds one, which is to be expected, but not as expected is the strange hiccup of a laugh when he reads the damn thing. the tone had been snarky before, not exactly unpleasant but not overtly welcoming either. this time, the tone comes across softer. keith furrows his brow, partly incredulous that the guy bothered to think about his comfort.

and of course, then there's the corssed out beginnings of a see you. it's a platitude sure, but it's... fuck, funny? out of place? disarming? charming? keith bites the inside of his lip when he catches himself wondering exactly who this is. he said he wasn't going to do that and plans on sticking to it, but he takes the note out of the book entirely and crumples it in his pocket.

dorky. that's the word. dorky. it shouldn't settle his nerves knowing that, but it does. he returns to his cube then, wondering if he ought to bring supplies over. mouthwash, perhaps. something soft to rest his knnes on? but then his gaze lingers on a small bottle of lube and his staring at it, deliberating, seems to collapse time altogether.

stupid idea clashes with a more defiant on my own terms sensibility about his first time trying anal on the receiving end. truth be told, keith hasn't even made up his mind by the time he just throws everything into a drawstring bag. it'll be there if he decides to go for it, and if not then his anonymous partner will be no wiser.

with two minutes left until their meeting, keith leaves his cube. the walk towards the housing units by the pool doesn't take too long and it's with a deep breath that keith pushes the door to the worn down house and enters. all hope of subtlety is gone when the door creaks on its hinges, but he's committed at this point anyway. the interior of the house is miserable and etiolated, the floorboards every bit as creaky as the front door had been. he raises an eyebrow at a hole in the drywall, stooping to give it a closer look but finds nobody on the other side.

frowning as he glances around, it's then he spots the note directing him to the upstairs bathroom. he takes the stairs two at a time, trying to keep his breathing even and pauses when he spots the door with the fist sized hole in it. biting his lip, he glances around and drags a wooden chair to the door and drops his bag to the floor.

one more audibly deep breath and keith lets it out nice and slow before rapping his knuckles once, twice against the door, then waves his hand in front of the hole. and now he waits. ]

Edited 2022-05-29 05:56 (UTC)

[ shiro’s set up in the upstairs bathroom somewhere in the vicinity of fifteen minutes ahead of the scheduled meet. there’s no clock and shiro didn’t bring his tablet, so he tries to keep time in his head. he gives up the count after a third round of sixty. so, he spends the rest of the time wondering how much time is left and if this mystery someone is actually worth all this fuss. every time he wanders down that road, he comes back with the solid answer of, yes, he’s worth the extra steps. shiro hasn’t been an uncooperative recluse; he’s dabbled in relations with other people here. dabbled, not excelled. for all his talk that the team should work on becoming comfortable with their sentence sheets in the worst case scenario of its completion being their only way home, shiro hasn’t been all that gung-ho about jumping into bed with anyone. everyone has been met with apprehension and a slow going acceptance. he’s gotten the checkmarks for his efforts, but boy has it been a battle to get there.

so he hopes mr. mysterious actually shows up, because while shiro can’t delude himself into believing this is for his sentence sheet, he can convince himself that it helps. he needs to clear his mind and clean the slate, so to speak, by getting this pent up fixation for what happened in his cube out of his system. anonymous man is his best bet for expending this energy, so…

five minutes left now? probably? sitting there on the counter beside the sink, shiro turns to the mirror. dusty and smudged, it isn’t in the greatest of shapes, but it reflects just fine as shiro tugs at his floof and ruffles life into it. time breezes by when he starts analyzing his face, gaze square on the scar tissue etched over the bridge of his nose. anonymous is good. anonymous is nice. shiro doesn’t have to field any questions related to what he’s seeing in his reflection. white hair, scar tissue,, metal arm… – he startles at the creaking of hinges and then turns to stare at the closed bathroom door as floorboards groan. the dragging of something takes a moment for him to place. oh, that chair in the hall, over by one of those big windows. he’s off the counter next, not actually walking toward the door, even as the knocks sound.

he’s not hard and that feels like an oversight on his part. perhaps he should have been working himself up in the meantime. easy to think that now, now that his mystery boy hasn’t stood him up. shiro will be getting there soon enough however; excitement has his belly fluttering and his heart beating harder, heat already pooling around his collar. he unzips his jacket, but doesn’t shed it just yet. he isn’t certain how much can be seen through that hole, but he thinks he should keep the metal arm covered, hand stuffed in his pocket. in his other hand is a pen and paper.

the downstairs note wasn’t the only one. walking to the door, shiro stands close and slips the two items through the hole. ]

Hi
I owe you a blow
Do you want me to blow you first? y/n

[ after the deal was struck, the frustration – for anonymous mouth, at least – ebbed and shiro started thinking about how it was only fair. it’s not purely out of generosity or guilt or whatever emotion there is to be found in owing reciprocation. shiro’s selfish too. it clearly matters to his mystery man that he have shiro’s mouth and it's in shiro's best interest to give it to him. shiro wants his own blow to be good, as good and filthy as before, and he suspects he might not get that same treatment if his acquaintance here thinks he’s going to be gypped again. ]

[ expectation dictates that a hard dick gets fed through the hole. it's what the earlier note had implied and it's accordingly what keith is gearing himself up to deal with. instead, there's a pen and paper -- neither of which should throw him off at all, but it does anyway leaving keith feeling oddly called out for no discernable reason. sitting down on his chair, he accpets both and reads the message with a revived gratitude for the anonymous set up.

again, the tone shift is hard to parse. the implied entitlement from before is gone, and the offer to satisfy keith first comes as a pleasant surprise. did something good happen in his guy's day? he ponders, then dropkicks the thought from his head. no thinking about who the guy on the other side of the door is or what his day to day is like, right? right.

keith bites the inside of his lip a little nervously, gaze shifted down to the front of his stupid yoga pants. he isn't actually aroused yet, and the weird sense of apprehension surrounding this house and meeting hasn't helped him feel much of anything. the promise of a blow though? he breathes out, trying to relax as he clicks the pen and twists to write on the paper over the arm of the chair. ]

Yeah.
But I want it like it was before.

[ another click of the pen and then keith pauses. perhaps he ought to be warning the guy that his cock isn't exactly humanoid in all respects, but the longer he dwells, the more keith starts dismissing it. they aren't anything to each other. why explain when they're meant to be be indifferent to each other as people? if the guy doesn't like it, he's just as capable of spitting his dick out and canceling this whole fucking thing, right? right.

hesitation over, keith pushes both note and pen back through the hole and gets up from his chair, hands on his pants. ]

[ the jacket comes off while the man reads over the note. shiro doesn’t do anything with it, other than ball it up and toss it on the floor. the note and pen make their reappearance shortly thereafter, shiro taking both via his left hand. a short read later and shiro frowns, opening his mouth on a bout of confusion that almost has him blundering this whole anonymity deal. he snaps his mouth shut and rolls his eyes at himself. idiot.

he rereads the second line and ignores the pen still in hand, wanting to work through this, rather than embarrass himself by asking what he means by that. he wants it like it was before? so last time. last time when shiro fed his dick between his lips and tugged his hair, coaxing him deeper and deeper until…

oh. he wants to fuck his throat, doesn’t he?

he squints, head cocking to the side as though changing the angle will give him another perspective. unneeded; he’s fairly sure he’s guessed right. unfortunately, they’re limited in that regard. his friend here can’t grab at his hair and hold him down as his throat works around him. there’s relief to be found in that but also… – shiro deepens that frown, face hard and knotted. he hasn’t blown anyone in ages. it’s one of those, you never forget, once you learn, type of deals, but that doesn’t settle his nerves. he sees everything wrong with agreeing sight unseen to let a stranger face fuck him. how big is his dick? how rough is he going to be? will he be kind? cruel? will he force him to gag and choke as shiro did to him not all that long ago?

shiro winces a little at that. he can blame the aphro all he likes, it doesn’t quite excuse how much shiro enjoyed this man choking on him. how much shiro still likes the idea of him choking on him. it’s right then and there that shiro knows what his answer is. still, he keeps with his stalling and takes his time in folding up the note. together, he drops both items to the floor and then toes his balled jacket in front of himself. when he kneels, it’s with his knees on his jacket.

if the man is watching closely through the hole, he may get a glimpse of lips being wetted. just two beats while shiro settles and then those lips are gone. spread. mouth open wide, shiro presses it to the edges of that circular hole. it’s dirty, not just in action but in the door itself. shiro shudders as that fact weighs heavy on his consciousness and yet, he flattens his tongue and extends it slightly, the tip resting over the wood, and acting as an enticing bridge for a cock to slide over.

it’s only fair he repeats in mind, not at all convinced this is actually that. this feels more submissive than the hair pulling and face directing that shiro did to him. even so, he keeps position and waits, half hoping the man feeds him his dick before shiro’s better sense catches up. ]

[ this whole process is nervewrecking in a way that's hard to pin down. obviously, keith's had plenty of text conversations before and hadn't felt a lick of anxiety over not being able to read how his words were taken -- hell, plenty of face to face interactions have occurred where keith's given less than zero care for reception. here, it's the bizarre amalgamation of having nothing to really work with, but hearing a cluster of noises anyway. rustling fabric, the crak of floorboards, the gentle push on the bathroom door. heart racing fast and hard, keith holds his breath while keeping his eyes fixed at the hole in the door.

it takes a few ticks, but sure enough he catches a glimpse of a mouth and then a pink tongue rolls over the bottom lip of the wood. keith slowly exhales and briefly closes his eyes.

okay, so the guy's actually gonna do it. it trying to qualify that, keith substitutes it for yet another euphemism in the word payback. payback in the form of what, choking a man on his dick? keith swallows hard, heat rising up to his face and spreading warm across his cheeks. is this what keith's into now? fuck.

trying not to think any further, keith pulls down his pants letting both yoga pants and underwear hang loose above his knees and tries not to think about how his bareass will be flashing anyone who decides to come inside the house and up the stairs. still soft, keith takes his dick in hand and gives himself a quick stroke before angling himself closer to the door and resting just the tip on that protruding tongue. instantly a shiver rolls down his spine at the from having something warm and wet cushion the bottom of his cock head and the sheer filth of it all makes him gasp audibly as he slowly feeds an inch or so more into that waiting mouth. ]

[ shiro should close his eyes. the thought comes to him slowly and he’s just as sluggish in following it. his nose is a little smooshed. his eyes are edging closer to crossed with how they’re trying to focus on the too close wood paneling. it’s uncomfortable but it’s better. better because closing his eyes feels too much like giving up the last of his control. juvenile reasoning, really. looking, yet unseeing gives him no amount of power; he figures this out quick when something skates under all of his senses combined and smoothes over his tongue, surprising him into a soft noise.

one, two, he doesn’t rip his mouth away, and onto three, he thinks, okay, he’s actually doing this. truthfully, he doesn’t need much convincing. between galra abduction and kickstarting voltron, shiro hasn't had have much opportunity to chase dick. almost two weeks in porn prison now and he hasn’t had a dick in his mouth either. how embarrassing is it to admit that he hasn't realized how much he’s missed it until this exact moment? good thing he’s barred from speaking; he doesn’t think anyone would benefit from him mumbling around this cock how it’s been so long and he's so missed this.

perhaps it’s obvious anyway. there’s eagerness in the way he curls his tongue, trying to draw that cock in further. he doesn’t have to do much. those hips angle and feed him more, and soon, shiro exhales a pleased sigh before closing his lips. he likes that he’s soft. the idea of suckling gentle and constant until this cock thickens is a pleasant one. he wants that. he wants to feel every inch of growth and know the contrast, of how his mouth has to adjust to that fuller feeling.

through his nose, his breath comes in a heavy huff against the door, eyes finally slipping shut. his cheeks work and he swallows the extra spit, sucking in a steady rhythm in tandem to a tongue intent on mapping out the cock’s shape. he’s barely begun but he already has to widen the spread of his knees and press the butt of his metal palm to his crotch, feeling himself harden in time with the movements of his mouth. ]

[ lips seal around his cock and keith gasps audibly, fingers digging into the balsa wood door. the wood is smooth and varnished, giving him nothing to actually cling to, and quickly keith is seeing how the library might've had more perks after all. the door ensures him privacy yes, but it strips him all the comfort of human touch, like winding fingers through this guy's hair, grabbing his jaw and holding him steady.

but even that lonely thought gets swept under the rug as the stranger's tongue begins to move around his soft dick and the first few sucks make keith rut his hips into the door to feed more of his dick inside the heat of mystery guy's mouth. he stiffens up embarrassingly quickly, despite the lingering uncertainty over whether a warning about his biology is warranted. keith stifles a groan as his cock swells to stretch out the seal of lips around him, remembering belatedly to pull back slightly as the sensitive ridges criss crossing his shaft take shape with the rest of his arousal. hands ball into fists at the door as he draws his hips back, shivering as a ridge catches on soft lips. ]

[ shiro’s got one hand clenching at his thigh and the other still palming, now rotating against his crotch. the one good thing about these sinfully ugly uniforms is that they have adequate stretch. it’s still confining and not the ideal, but it’s enough of a give for the chub he’s got going. he’ll be much more than a chub in a few ticks at the rate he’s going. this is why he misses it: the strange shape forming in his mouth. the alarm bells don’t go off on the first pass of his tongue over an uneven stretch of skin. he’s too busy shuddering through the pleasure wrought from the movement of his own hand, thinking about how he should’ve taken himself out from the get go. he could be stroking himself in time and squeezing to each hollowing of his cheeks that coaxs that dick thicker, longer, ridgier…?

wait. that’s not right.

the movement of his palm slows and he cracks his eyes open, brows knitting. sure, it’s been awhile since he’s been on the market, but last he remembers, it didn’t feel like this. there are curves where there shouldn’t be and angles that catch at his teeth, his palate, his tongue. he rubs that last one along the underside, wanting to convince himself he’s imagining it, but the separation is clear. one, two, three, so on and so form, there are… ridges…?

he doesn’t know what to do with the realization and that's okay, because anonymous inadvertently pulls him toward a decision with a pull of his hips. hips slide back and shiro loses half an inch… and then loses them all, as his own body jerks in the other direction, as lips part wider to let the cock slip free. ]

[ it's good being on this side of the action. it's wet and warm and the tongue lapping at the underside of his cock, teasing around a ridge makes keith bite his lower lip hard to keep a groan buttoned in.

just as quicklt, however, it stops being good as lips widen and a hasty move backwards leaves cold air stinging on his cock. just as quickly, keith jerks back as well, practically falling into the seat of the chair behind him as he pants, eyes wide in alarm.

heart racing, he stares at the hole in the door uncertain of what it is that he's waiting for. if the guy's repulsed then there's a good chance he;ll just come storming out of the bathroom with zero regard for their agreed upon anonymity, right? flustered, keith makes a grab at the punched up clothes hugging his knees and starts hoisting them up his thighs. it surely can't be that weird, can it? the prison warden and his cronies abduct folks from all over the universe, surely a guy who goes around soliciting sex from random strangers anonymously has to have seen an alien cock or three by now.

mortified, keith casts a sidelong glance at the bag he dropped on the floor and starts hooking his fingers through the drawstring strap. hw should get out of here. it woul have been his preference to apologize first, but not at the expense of becoming more identifable to some guy who apparently finds his dick repulsive. keith stands, making the legs of the chair scrape on the floor as he backs up. ]

[ so… he can see how spitting out someone’s dick can be a turn off. it takes a few ticks for shiro to realize his mistake however. everything happens in quick succession: he pulls off, the dick disappears through the hole faster than shiro can get a glimpse, and then there’s shuffling. a lot of shuffling. gathering? packing. it becomes clear that anonymous is about to leave a beat later with the scraping across the wooden floor. panicked, shiro opens his mouth, only to catch himself, again, one breath shy of violating their agreement. he almost goes through with it anyway. he doubts there’s any coming back from this if anonymous leaves, so, it’s now or never, right?

breaking anonymity is losing his man too though.

frustrated at his lack of options, he slaps his palm against the door, hoping that somehow conveys wait. how is this even his fault? they’ve been passing notes over the course of days, it would’ve taken, what, five seconds?? to write out a ps my dick isn’t humanoid, hope that’s cool. a little heads up would have gone a long way. shiro’s been all over the universe and he likes to think he’s pretty open-minded, so it’s not like he’s grossed out. he’s just…

wait.

notes.

he scrambles, that’s the best word for the hastiness and clumsiness of his hands as he gets pen to paper. two seconds and he’s shoving the paper through the hole, waving it around between tightly clenched fingers. he pauses after a few beats, to let show: ]

sorry!!!

[ it’s sloppy but legible… he hopes. ]

[ the slao on the door gets keith's attention alright as well as an unpleasant surge of adrenaline going through his veins. it's completely irrational to be thinking about a possible throwdown over a blowjob, but what the fuck does keith know about prison behavior, let alone porn prison behavior? he casts a narrow eyed, weary look at the door handle waiting for it to turn and open up, when a hand pokes through, fingers clutching that slip of paper.

keith pauses, taking a deep breath as he reads the sloppy message. sorry. relaxing a pinch, keith worries at his lower lip as he sits back in the chair. he doesn't drop the bag back down on the floor, no, but he does reach across to prise the note out of the man's hand.

does he know what he wants to write back? no. but he plucks a pen out of his bag and twirls it around in his fingers while he thinks. ]

Are you good to continue? I'll leave if you're not interested.

[ maybe an apology is warranted on his end, maybe it isn't. but some part of keith is tired of feeling like he owes anyone an explanation for his body. he passes the note thorugh the hole. ]

Edited 2022-05-30 03:47 (UTC)

[ shiro breathes a sigh of relief as weight settles into the chair. good. he’s staying. or at the very least, allowing shiro a chance to get them back on course. the note comes through and shiro takes it. he doesn’t even pause; once he reads through, he presses the note to the door and starts writing. ]

I’m interested.
I was surprised. I’m sorry.

[ he’s fixated on keeping anonymous here that he hasn’t fully thought it through. interested? yes. but what does sucking a cock like that entail? he was open to deepthroating at the start of this, but with those kind of ridges dragging at his pharynx, all the way to his esophagus seems more daunting. shiro isn’t one to turn away from a challenge though. he can handle it. he will handle it. he just needs anonymous to stay. which is why he takes an extra moment to consider his scribble.

tonguing his bottom lip and thinking of how one ridge caught and dragged, right before shiro gave into panicked curiosity, shiro adds two more lines. ]

I want to make you cum.
Please let me.

[ with that, he folds it back up and passes it through the hole. ]

[ keith takes the slip of paper as it passes thorugh and blinks. it's... fuck. nobody's ever talked to him like this and this isn't even talking. heat blooms across his face, a shiver rolls down his spine and it's then that keith has to grapple with the fact that maybe he likes being talked to like this. he glances down the front of his pants. his cock had gotten soft in the brief moment of panic, but the note seems to have breathed life back into it.

embarrassed but admittedly aroused, keith jots back a reply, writing quickly on the door for support. ]

Do you like it?

[ he takes a moment to stare at the message, unsure if it sounds confident or cringe or some other faux pas. tempted to just crumple up the paper so anon doesn't read anything at all, keith hesitates then edits: ]

~~Do you like it?~~
Don't answer that. I like when you ask nicely.

[ then after passing the note through the door, keith takes a deep breath drops his pen on the chair and the bag on the floor. another beat, then he tugs his pants back down, fabric swathed around his knees and situates himself in front of the hole, and feeds just the tip through. ]

[ writing not to answer that crossed out question is unnecessary, because the man on the other side of the door doesn’t give shiro the time to answer. shiro’s still staring at the note and categorizing how it is he feels about the tone change when something hits the floor. he looks up and soon finds the stranger’s dick being fed through the hole. most of it continues to be hidden from shiro’s scrutiny. it’s just a hint of what is to come and shiro thinks that’s likely on purpose. do you like it? don’t answer that. heh.

shiro drops the note and pen and leans in, hands bracing on his thighs. he’s still merely looking, curious despite him being fully aware that there is a timer going. if he takes too long, he thinks the self-consciousness that led to that crossed out question will win out, and yet, he still delays a few more beats to eye up that crown and the beginning hint of a ridge. so he’s been hooking up with an alien? seems ridiculous that he hadn’t even considered that before. he’s befriended aliens, fought with and against aliens, his life isn’t so sheltered that he’s all that perturbed by this new relation. he’s, just as he wrote, surprised.

three, four, five –

he shakes off the thought, feeling the seconds bleed into one another and knowing he’s taking too long. there’s only one question to answer here, whether or not anonymous wants him to. does he like it? shiro lifts his left hand and leans further. he ghosts his fingers in close, swiping over the crown just to experience a different feel, and then that palm finds placement against the door. shiro thinks of nicely too and puffs out a breath, lips curving even as he purses them and presses them to the tip, right over his slit.

he’s beginning to like the challenge of taking this dick. he balked before, but the apprehension has settled and the shock has run its course, and he wants to see what it feels like to have something so foreign and so unique nudging down his throat. he can be nice first though. so he is. he kisses sweet at the crown and holds the position for two, three, and then widens his mouth to roll right into taking that tip inside. lips sealed around, shiro gives into a suckle and keeps on suckling, tongue drawing circles at the cockhead. and just to seal the deal further? and hopefully draw those lovely hips in, to feed shiro more of his cock? shiro’ll moan around him, long and throaty. ]

[ it's almost pathetic really, how his cock jerks with the lightest of touch. the hitched breath soon becomes a moan stifled into his palm as soft lips press on the head, like it could have been a kiss as innocent as one pressed to the cheek. faintly, keith winds up amused.

asking nice had been a mild way of saying that he liked the directness of this man's filthy request, but the gentle innocence of how he's handling his dick now is something keith is surprisingly weak for. toes curl as pre wets the tip. he can't see obviously, but he can imagine a sweetly reverent look on his mystery guy's face as he mouths carefully, indulgently and sucks. keith groans louder this time before he can think better of himself, shivering as the heat of his tongue circles at the slit. all too quickly, the temptation to speak has to be bitten down on as keith slowly rolls his hips forward, pushing into the tight seal and grunting as the first ridge catches then breaches the wet heat of his mouth.

fuck is all he can muster up as that of his tongue wipes away more pre. already the mood is wrong. in his note, he said he wanted to fuck this guy the way he'd gotten fucked in the library. this slow and if it weren't for the door it could have even been tender. keith takes his hand away from his mouth, then flattens both palms against the door as he continues to drive his cock into that waiting mouth.

he's not supposed to imagine anything, but lips catch on the second ridge, then the third -- marking the half way point, and in a haze, keith wants to know so much about what's going on just on the other side. is the guy on his knees? sitting in a chair? eyes open? eyes closed? clothed? naked? touching himself? hard?

keith groans, the low needy sound poorly muffled by the balsa wood. his mystery person had a wonderfully thick dick that filled up his mouth, clogged his throat and it's with a guilty half jerk that keith pulls back very slightly when his thoughts drift to the thickness of shiro's cock grinding against his cock and ass. shivering, keith swallows, then balls his fists and pistons his hips forward until the last ridge pushes past lips and the tip meets resistance.

breathing hard, keith pauses there, knowing he should give this guy a second before trying to go further. but maybe that's courtesy he doesn't deserve? or does he, after the tenderness of those kisses? feeling vaguely feverish, keith counts to a sloppy three seconds before drumming a restless pattern on the door with his fingers.

and then he thrusts -- hard, quick, fully intent on pushing deep into the tightness of this man's throat and all but mewling out his mental cacophony of take it, take it, take it. ]

Edited (Typo hell hhhh) 2022-05-31 20:18 (UTC)

[ now that he’s anticipating them, each ridge that widens his lips and slips inside is met with a fascinated swipe of his tongue. he’s wanting again, in his effort to create a picture in his mind of the shape of those curves and lines. the cock is weighty and solid, and shiro can feel that, yes, but he wants more than this imagined thing in his head. he can’t pull off for a look though. not after what just happened. so he contents himself with the stretch of his lips and the full feeling that grows and grows as the number of ridges increases. he counts them off in his head. one, two, three, four, five…

the edge of the cockhead grazes his soft palate. reflex has shiro tensing, all the way down to his belly. it’s been awhile since he’s taken dick and never quite like this, obviously, so he’s struck then, with a feeling that reads foreign. he hates that. he hates that he’s been out of the game so long that he’s rusty. blame his competitive nature, but he wants this to be good. he wants to be good. shiro’s been denying it the whole time he’s been here, but anonymous left an impression on him for his cocksucking skills and shiro sure as hell wants to leave one on him too.

a groan comes through the door and – fuck, it sounds good. shiro moans in answer, hoping anonymous not only likes the sound of it, but the feel of it too. between the sound of him, the taste of him, and the filthy knowledge of what it is they’re doing here, shiro’s hard. he’s trying to figure out what to do with that. the promise of his own blow hangs between them and all he has to do is be patient. fuck patience. he comes back with that rebuttal without much pause at all and gets to work on pulling his pants and underwear down, shifting the spread of his legs as he needs to in order to hook the waistband below his balls. it’s odd using his right hand for this. he never touches himself with it, but he’s barely thinking and the metal keeps the glide smooth as he begins stroking himself off. it feels good to use his galra hand… he’ll deal with that realization later.

saliva pools in his mouth as another ridge nudges inside and now, shiro’s resisting the urge to swallow, the tip tickling his uvula and promising to slip further. those hips stop feeding though. is that the last of it? shiro’s nose is once again pressed close to the door and his eyes slipped shut somewhere around ridge three, so he doesn’t know. he can’t tell. one second burns off, then a second, and shiro curls his fingers against the door, slowly cracking open his eyes. no more…?

a third second ticks by and turns out, shiro should have been preparing himself, rather than wondering. the door rattles dangerously from the combination of those hips slamming forward and from shiro’s reflexive drag of his fingernails. the surprised inhale he gulps helps widen his throat, but it backfires as the smooth, inner muscles tickle and jerk in response to something being forced down it. he gags like a fucking virgin. metal fingers squeeze at his own cock, everything pausing except for the contractions of his throat. his heart is palpitating and he can hear it more than anything else as it fills his head. he coughs and sputters spit, but that’s it, that’s the most violent part of it, because he outright refuses to fail at this.

he shoves his face as close as it can be to the door, making a garbled, muffled noise into the balsa wood. he wants this. keep going, please. the convulsing of his throat is relaxing as muscle memory finally catches up. impatient, he dares a swallow, coaxing his throat to move more smoothly along his cock. as for his own, he’ll start beating it in his fist, hoping that dribble of pre that catches in between metal fingers squelches with the friction. he wants anonymous to know he’s getting off on this, even with his lungs burning and his throat trembling. ]

A-ah!

[ the half moan, half yell may as well have been punched out of keith. up until a second ago, he'd been convinced he was fully in control, in charge and dictating the terms of his orgasm, but all it takes is for a tight wall of smooth muscle convulsing around him for keith to realize how utterly mistaken he is.

the stupid tryst in the library had made it pretty clear that it'd feel good. even without the experience of it, logic and porn made that obvious. when it boils down to it, sex is just about thrusting into a soft, squeezing column of heat and obviously that's what a throat is. not that keith's thinking rationally on any level. he slams his hips into the door, grimacing a little from the impact, but goes right back to stifling a moan when rhythmic pulsing around his cock makes his vision blur. eyes squeezed shut, he claws at the balsa wood, feverish in his need to grab onto something and remembers belatedly that he needs to let this guy fucking breathe.

panting heavily, he reluctantly pulls out and hisses at the loss of pressure. what is this anyway? one real thrust and he's mindless with his own pleasure? well, if nothing else keith is determined to at least one up this guy and not blow his load on the spot, so he grits his teeth and pulls out nice and slow, groaning as he watches his dick slip back into his line of sight, all reddened and slick with spit. words burn in his own throat -- nothing eloquent, just a chorus of fuckfuckfuck but they're not supposed to be talking. he pulls out until just the tip is left in the mystery man's mouth, and keith shivers uncontrollably as his balls go tight and pre continues to leak.

not yet, not yet.

keith holds, breathing labored as he impatiently counts off another silent three seconds. it's barely audible over the sound of his own gasping and the heavy beat of his heart, but there's a wet slippery noise coming through the other side that drives keith's imagination wild with possibility. there's a rhythm to the wet smack and squelch that makes it all too easy to picture a fat dick getting pumped and pumped.

keith gives himself a pinch at the base of his cock, shudders and drives his hips forward for a second thrust. what's the expected etiquette here anyway? slow thrusts? can he do what he wants? even if that effectively means using this guy's mouth like a sleeve? is keith setting the tone here and giving implicit permission to have his own throat fucked raw?

keith moans, then slams his hips hard into the door. yeah. yeah fuck it, the guy can fuck him back just as rough if he wants. he drives his cock one, two ridges deep, muffling a scream by biting down on his wrist, holds the position for another three seconds of paradise before drawing his hips back and going right back for another taste. he doesn't last long; in his fervor he can't stop thinking about the guy pumping furiously at his thick cock and it's with another muffled yell that he comes apart and shoots once down the man's throat and twice in his mouth before finally pulling out completely and collapsing back on his chair, chest heaving. ]

Edited 2022-06-01 04:16 (UTC)

[ there’s no hand in his hair and no way those hips can chase after him. at any moment here, he can pull back and breathe. he doesn’t though. he sits there and takes it, falling into the hazy headspace found when everything feels a little too much and a little too real. full as his throat is, he likes it. likes the stretch, likes the burn, likes how the seconds seem to suspend and drag. most of all, he likes the pitch of the other man’s voice as the pleasure hits an equally high point. it’s familiar; he’s heard it before. distantly , he thinks this, and then immediately places it. of course he’s heard that voice before… just last time, it was muffled with cock. those muffled, throaty sounds were good in the library, but these ones…

shiro tightens his grip around himself and keeps stroking, quick and brutal, matching the intensity as another second, two, three tick by. anonymous breaks first and shiro is, he supposes, grateful for that. he doesn’t open his mouth for a large gasp though; he keeps his lips tight and inhales sharp and long through his nose as he eases, only slightly, off the door. his lungs expand and the dizzy spell clears from his head, eyes opening a crack to see nothing but the door.

come back. he can take it. he’s ready. he tries to convey as much as he suckles at the tip, tongue still relentlessly rubbing against the underside. throughout, he keeps palming his dick, full well knowing he ought to stop before he quite literally blows his own blowjob. but there’s a sweet taste on his tongue and a promise for more that has him too far gone on want to even know how to stop

he keeps beating, keeps sucking, and after what feels like an eternity of waiting, ridges skate across his tongue and fill his mouth, only to hit mark with the back of his throat. he’s forced open again and this time, he takes anonymous’ dick beautifully. no choking, no sputter – he relaxes into the push and tries to hum. he doesn’t quite succeed on that front but the reverberation of his throat making a garbled noise likely feels nice anyway. the door rattles and shiro presses hard against it, wanting in the moment to somehow reach through and hold him by the hip, to keep him there, two ridges deep. anonymous does stay… briefly. just long enough to shoot heat directly down his throat. shiro’s throat convulses, not even experience quite saving him from reflex. he gulps and it’s a clusterfuck of opposite movements: his throat hugs tight through the swallow and those ridges drag hard as they retreat. more cum fills his mouth and shiro wastes a few drops of it as the cock slips out of his mouth, lungs working hard to breathe.

the frantic beat of his palm is too much and he remembers too late to seal his lips, just about drooling spit and cum as he finds his own orgasm. he comes all over the door and his fingers, the motion of his hand not stopping until he milks himself empty. it’s only then that he remembers to close his mouth and swallow down. and after he does? before he’s even settled his breathing or the frantic beating of his heart? he leans forward, opens his mouth and fits it to the hole, mindless in his desire to show anonymous that he swallowed everything. ]

library notes & anon second meeting ( for keith )

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us and our novels, man

i don't know why these novels keep happening

we need to go to novels anonymous. learn how to stop. also i need a bj icon clearly.