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When Shiro gets a proper view of the young one that stepped inside the bar like it was of his property, he understands the confidence. He’s not only pretty — he’s outright gorgeous. Every person at the bar seems dazzled by his presence, every eye following his movement.
Shiro isn’t the one who approached first — there’s a lady, then a couple of boys, then another woman in fancy clothes, and at last a man that has seen better ages.
All of them steps away in shame, and Shiro is utterly amused.
“You’re too hard on them.”
Blueish eyes find his in the bad-lit lounge in curiosity before they school it back to plain boredom.
“Maybe if they weren’t so desperate.”
Shiro feels himself smirk. “Were they?”
The eyes pin him in place, narrowing. “Are you?”
Shiro really wonders. “I’m Shiro. May I have your name?”
The boy huffs. “No.”
Shiro's smile twitches. “Okay, kid.”
That makes the boy look at him again. “What do you want?”
“I already said so,” Shiro hums.
But the kid stares, almost but not quite glaring. Now he gets why so many have failed. But Shiro isn’t one to back up from a challenge.
“You haven’t tried to touch me,” the kid muses quietly, to what Shiro rises an eyebrow. “All of them tried.”
Shiro is the one who huffs now. “Maybe I know one thing or two about boundaries.”
The boy tilts his head, watching him up and down. His eyes stop briefly in Shiro’s arm, but he doesn’t look disgusted by it.
“Do you have good control over yourself?” He asks suddenly.
“I have well-practiced patience, if that’s what you’r asking.”
“Patience it’s just waiting until you get something in return.” The boy scoffs unkindly. “I am asking about control, old man. Do you have it or not?”
Shiro’s eye twitches, but he’s so amused he can’t get angry at the derisive surname. “I know how to restrain myself.” He hums. “Why are you asking, though? Are you considering?”
The boy’s scowl turns into a pout of some sort. Shiro adores it.
“I want to try something.” He swirls his drink, watching the golden liquid move between the ice, then he meets Shiro’s gaze again. “Do you want part of it?”
“I can do my best.”
The boy watches him closely for a long minute and then nods. “Keith.”
Shiro smiles. “Nice to meet you, Keith.”
He extends his hand, but the kid only stares at it while he sips the last dregs of his drink. “You’re not allowed to touch.”
Shiro blinks, finally getting the game they’re playing, and pulls his hand away. “Okay.”
There’s a twitch in the corner of Keith’s lip, something like a smile. “No complaints? No walking away?”
Shiro grins. “Won’t need to touch you to make you come, kid.”
Keith shifts, covering a shudder, and he looks away to pay the bartender, keeping Shiro on his line of sight.
“Any other rule I should be aware of?” Shiro asks, and Keith seems to wonder.
“No. Just no touching. If you dare to try to touch me, we’re done.”
Shiro smirks. “Okay, boy.”
This should be fun.
Shiro follows the boy to his apartment, right across the street. It’s a small complex and Shiro has to actually duck to keep himself from knocking his head at the stairs.
“This is me.”
“Okay.”
Keith throws a wary look at him over his shoulder, fidgeting with his keys.
“Having second thoughts?” Shiro asks, because the least he wants it’s for him to feel forced into this despite how much Shiro wants it.
But Keith shakes his head, turning his attention to find the key to his door.
“You still haven’t tried to touch me,” Keith says off-handedly, as if that's what’s been running through his head all the way here.
“You told me I’m not allowed to,” Shiro reminds him, amused. “Unless you’re regretting and actually want me to touch you.”
Keith scoffs, rolling his eyes. “No. Thank you. The rule’s still up.”
Shiro hums, nodding, and arches an eyebrow when Keith keeps fidgeting with his keys despite having only two in his keychain. Shiro smirks, catching the glances of expectation he keeps throwing at him. He wonders if he wants him to try something. To push his way with him right before the door opens, maybe try to take advantage of him.
But Shiro is a gentleman — he’d never try to get what isn’t consensually given.
Or maybe he wants him to give out to temptation. For his patience to break.
Maybe he wants Shiro to try to touch him so he can kick him out before it even starts and never to see him again.
Shiro isn’t taking that risk.
He steps closer, though, letting his gaze wander over Keith’s backside the way his hand would if he was allowed to.
Keith flinches when his shadow covers him completely.
“What’re you-” he tries, turning on his heel with all the intention to push him off and run away.
But he gasps, taken aback by how close Shiro is standing, slightly jumping away and thumping his back against this still closed door.
“I-I told you not to touch,” he hisses, head arched back to look at Shiro in the eye.
But Shiro just tilts his head, minutely pulling his hands out of his pockets and pressing the palms on either side of Keith’s head, crowding him against the door but pointedly not touching.
“Am I?” He asks, watching Keith’s lashes flutter with every disbelieving blink. His chest heaves with rapid pants, reducing the space between their bodies just quite . A blush crawls up his neck and Shiro feels his smile crook. “Did I startle you, sweetheart? I’m sorry.”
“I-” Keith gulps, “Okay.”
He meets Shiro’s gaze, looking beautifully flustered, and Shiro smiles, pleased to have such a gorgeous reaction. Keith clears his throat, looking away, and swiftly shoves his key into the lock, not even sparing a glance. Shiro raises an eyebrow at that but doesn’t comment on it.
Keith meets his gaze again then, door clicking open behind him. He doesn’t step in, though, still watching Shiro from under his fringe, and Shiro sees a glint of challenge in his gaze, jaw set in determination.
He’s fool-proofing him, Shiro realizes, Keith still watching him from the barely-there distance between them. He’s checking his reactions, taking note in every change of his expressions, wary and interested and curious of what Shiro would do.
Heat bubbles up his skin at the attention. At the probing. At how a single wrong move or hitch of breath would make everything between them go to hell. Shiro is patient. He knows how to take hold of his desire, to control it into something bearable for both him and his partner at the time. But the way Keith’s eyes wander over the high of his cheek, down the corner of his jaw, to the gulp of his throat and the heave of his chest, makes his self-restraint fray at the edges, the pull snapping every thread of sanity like an old fabric left in the sun.
I’m not allowed to touch , he has to remind himself when the only thought screaming in his mind is to reach out, to brush over black hair, to cup the delicate-looking cheek, to trace the scar across it, to thumb over the pink lips and push just enough to feel them give in.
He wonders if his skin it’s as fair as it looks, if his fingers are rough with callouses or if his hair would feel as silky and unruly through his fingers.
He wants to touch.
He’s not allowed to.
Yet.
“Are you coming in?” Keith asks quietly. Teasing. Tempting.
Shiro takes a deep breath and holds it in, relinquishing in the smokey scent that comes off Keith’s hair when a wisp of wind passe through it. He holds it until his lungs hurt, until he’s sure he can move and not immediately search for Keith’s arm, waist, shoulder, anything.
“Are you going to let me in?” He asks back and amusement tilts Keith’s mouth.
He steps back then, slow and deliberate, and Shiro follows like a moth to flame, lured by the heat this boy implies, willing to get burnt to ashes. He follows and keeps the distance as scarce as he can without touching.
“Look at that,” Keith chuckles when they step inside and waits for Shiro to close the door, not walking away by himself. “You do have some control over yourself.”
He sounds as surprised as Shiro feels. He can’t believe he made it through the door without giving in. He’s not driven by desire as much as many might be, but he actually thought he’d mess it up at some point with how gorgeous Keith is.
“Of course, baby,” he whispers, stepping closer once the door is locked.
He catches Keith’s shudder at the pet-name, lower lip quivering before his teeth sinks down on it and yes, Shiro might die here, following a boy he just met to his room like a lost puppy in search for affection. Shiro barely registers the change of rooms, more interested in the way Keith watches him, standing in the middle of the room, just at the end of his bed.
He’s watching him like he’s expecting once again, waiting for Shiro to give in and push him to the mattress and make his way. But Shiro doesn’t do anything but stay rooted to his place, waiting for another word from the boy in front of him.
“I’m going to touch myself,” Keith informs him suddenly, a wave of lust heating Shiro inside-out. “And you’re going to watch.”
“Okay, boy,” he exhales, light-headed.
Keith looks pleased by his reply and lack of movement.
“Put yourself comfortable,” Keith tells him, giving the carpet a glance before he turns away and to his drawers at the side of bed.
Shiro watches him for a second before he pulls his gaze away from Keith for the first time in what feels like forever to look around.
The room is almost empty of furniture, with just the bed, the drawers and a closet at the other end. It doesn’t look lived-in either, which raises suspicion on Shiro, but he doesn’t want to address it, instead looking where he can sit down for the show. There’s not even a chair.
“What’re you doing?” Keith asks when he comes back to him, now leaning over the edge of his bed with a few supplies and what looks suspiciously close to a dragon dildo.
“Looking where to sit?” Shiro asks, eyes fixated on the toy. A good seat, yes. Although he’s bigger, but doesn’t have bulbs at the base.
Keith’s scoff makes Shiro’s attention snap to his face, finding him grinning. Shiro is about to ask what’s so funny when Keith’s gaze goes sharp and almost makes him swallow his own tongue.
“To your knees,” he commands shockingly easy, and Shiro obeys before he can catch himself.
He’s always been eager to please, but this is a whole new level of it.
“Good, you know how to take an order,” Keith hums, contemplative while he spreads a towel on the bedspread and then sits on it, parted legs looking like the best place to be in. “Now, watch.”
Shiro does — follows the motion of Keith’s hand with rapt attention, first to his shoulder, to the middle of his chest, down his torso and stopping right over his waistband. Shiro gulps, eyes falling to Keith’s crotch. He isn’t hard in spite of how hot and bothered he looks.
Shiro shifts on his knees, already feeling his pants uncomfortably tight. They haven’t touched. Keith has barely started. Shiro feels close to exploding.
“What is it?” Keith asks, hand trailing back up to his chest. He starts unbuttoning his shirt. “You look troubled.”
"You aren't hard,” Shiro says before he can think better of it. Whatever happened to his filter, he'll never know.
Keith laughs. “Are you?”
“You’re beautiful,” Shiro justifies himself, to what Keith unexpectedly blushes.
“Right,” Keith bites back, schooling back his expression. His eyes inspect Shiro for a long while, musing over something Shiro wishes he could know. “You can touch yourself, if you want.”
“Oh.” Shiro glances his erection, tucked over his left hip and very noticeable, “I’m okay.”
Keith’s smile widens just a bit. “Are you, now?”
Shiro tries not to shudder. He doesn’t want to admit it, but if he were to merely brush his cock, he’s sure he’d come on the spot. He’s commonly overconfident in his stamina, but the boy has put his sense of normalcy to test.
To his luck, Keith doesn’t wait for an answer, focusing instead on stripping. Shiro’s hearing sharpens when he hears his belt unbuckling, watching deft fingers undo the button of his pants with such a slowness Shiro feels like his sanity hanging from a thread. His breath hitches when Keith’s hips raise enough to pull them down, along with his underwear, and then he gets why Keith didn't look hard. He is, though, poking out underneath his hood, cock head barely visible under the carelessly trimmed hair.
Shiro gasps, body growing hotter with every second he spends staring at Keith's cunt, merely noticing him pulling off his shirt with a swift motion over his head.
"What?" Keith snaps him out of the gutter Shiro has shoved himself into. "Having second thoughts?"
Shiro forces himself to meet Keith's gaze, hearing amusement in his tone but catching the slight show of insecurity in his expression.
The words slip out before he can process them. "You're gorgeous."
Keith's breath halts, cheeks aflame under Shiro's attention. "Am I?"
The question seems to shock Keith as much as it shocks Shiro, the tilt of pain hidden in the whisper pushing Shiro to reassure as much as he can.
"You are," Shiro vows, eyes falling again to his pussy. "You are perfect."
Keith gasps, cunt fluttering in delight and Shiro's dick throbbing in need to see it do it again.
"Oh," Keith inhales, fingers sliding across his inner thigh, cock pulsing under his thumb. "Yeah, look at me just like that."
Shiro is not sure what kind of look he's giving, what his expression is doing, but he stares dumbfounded, barely taking time to blink. He doesn't want to miss anything. He bites his tongue when a sound crawls up his throat when Keith's fingers drum their way to his clit. The touch is light-feathered at first, Keith's hips trying to follow his fingertips when he pulls them away with just a caress.
Keith shudders, a thin and clear liquid slowly dripping out of his cunt.
"Oh, baby," Shiro whispers despite himself, feeling his throat dry.
He's never had a pussy in his mouth and now it's the only thing that swirls in his mind.
"Yeah?" Keith chuckles, all breathy and pretty.
Shiro nods like a bob head, biting his lips when Keith's thumb and forefinger finally take his cock and gives it a few light tugs.
He wants it in his mouth so bad .
"You're so wet. So hard," Shiro whispers without helping himself, "The perfect little mouthful."
Keith shivers, fingers not stopping their trail on his extension. "You want me in your mouth?"
Shiro is offended he would question it.
"I could live with you in my mouth," he rumbles out, voice deep from down his chest, "I could eat you out all day, every day. Keep you warm and full of my tongue. Make you come every time I want."
"You're not the one in charge here," he warns teasingly, but the buck if his hips leave evidence on how much the thought appeals him.
"Then every time you want," Shiro swears easily, but Keith still hums, unconvinced. "I'm hard to please, old man."
"Because you haven't been in my mouth, baby," Shiro mutters, threatens, promises. "Every time you tell me, I'd make it my life purpose for you to come on my tongue, on my fingers, on my cock. Just say the word and I'd spent every of my living breaths pleasuring you."
Keith shifts, arching a little into his fingers, sliding to trace his cunt.
"You are overconfident," he scoffs, though he's clearly affected.
"Or I know of my abilities," Shiro mutters, tilting his head as he watches Keith's fingertips breach just so before pulling away.
"And what are those, if I may ask?" Keith exhales, voice shaky when he finally pushes one of his fingers inside of himself, just to the first knuckle. Shiro feels his head blow a fuse.
"What I lack in experience I compensate in eagerness?"
Keith barks out a laugh.
"Is this a job interview?" He teases him, to what Shiro shrugs.
"Are you hiring to keep you full and sated?"
Keith pauses at that, pulling his hand away from his pussy and letting Shiro get a real good sight of it without his fingers in the way. "Are you offering?"
"I humbly volunteer my services," he says, smiling at how Keith's cunt throbs at that. "At least you like the idea."
Keith chokes out a giggle, noticing Shiro is talking to his cunt. "You talk too much." He mumbles, feigning annoyance. "You distract me."
Shiro pauses while Keith reaches for the lube, dripping some in his hand before he throws the bottle away.
"I could stop," Shiro suggests but Keith hums a negative, putting himself comfortable again.
"I like your voice," Keith admits, looking him up and down and hinting it's not the only thing he likes about Shiro, "Although you just tell idiotic things."
Shiro huffs, faking hurt. "You don't believe me."
"I don't have to," Keith smirks. "You're not allowed to touch."
Shiro smirks back. "Yet."
Keith's breath hitches, even before his fingers find place on his clit again. He pretends it's because of the lube's temperature, but Shiro saw him warm it up before touching himself again. He's not fooling anyone.
"Patience instead of control, huh?" He comments nonchalantly, smearing the lube over his pussy and pressing inside minutely. Shiro shrugs.
"Patience it's what's given the best rewards, beautiful."
Keith gasps, fingertips breaching him again, but this time they go further easier, hips rolling to get them deeper. Shiro feels his mouth water.
"Gorgeous," he muses, Keith's gaze flickering to him before focusing again on his hand. "Bet you're tight."
Keith shivers full-bodied, fingers going in and out slow and steady. "F-fuck. Don't stop talking-"
Shiro is happy to never shut up.
"Bet you're so hot inside. So good for me. So pliant and open for me to take. To ruin ."
Keith moans, at first quiet but then louder.
But he dares to try and cover his mouth, to bite his lips for the sounds not to come out.
Shiro can't have that. "Oh baby. You sound gorgeous," he grunts, throat tight in desire. "Don't hold back, sweetheart. I want to hear you. Please, let me hear you."
Keith hesitates, lower lip trapped between his teeth. He studies Shiro for a long moment, fingers sliding up and down his slit in barely-there touches. Ones that make his limbs shiver, stomach shaking with the effort of holding back. Shiro's gaze falls to the motion of his hand, dazed. And when he meets Keith's eyes again, he finds a darkness he wishes he could get swallowed whole.
Keith's breath hitches, mouth opening in a low moan, and Shiro quickly looks down to what he's doing to himself. Two of his fingers are inside of him, slowly pushing and pulling to take more. Shiro watches, the stretch being scarce but also looking like too much.
He'd look so good on his cock, stretched to his limits. So tiny and so tight . He'd be so good to him.
Keith moans, shocked. And Shiro realizes he's said it out loud.
"Y-you-" he stutters, hair sticking to his red face and looking so damned pretty , "Ah- fuck - You haven't touched yourself."
Shiro's dick twitches in his pants, compelled by the idea, begging him to do so.
"I'm okay," Shiro lies, cock resenting him with another kick, "This is about you, darling."
Keith chokes down a moan, eyes struggling to keep open when he curls his fingers just right. He manages after a heaving breath, gaze landing on Shiro's tenting pants.
"You look big," Keith comments off-handedly, as if they're talking about the weather and he isn't pushing a third finger into himself for Shiro to watch.
Shiro catches the daring tone behind the nonchalant. "I am."
Keith huffs, unbelieving. "Sure."
Shiro hates being fooled with. He reaches for his belt, unbuckling it first and then the button of his jeans. Keith watches, the motion and squelch of his fingers going into a halt when Shiro pulls himself out of his boxers.
"Oh fuck."
"Yeah."
"You're-"
"Yes?"
"Big."
Shiro smirks, weighting himself in his hand methodically. "I am."
Keith hums, eyes flickering to his toy and back again to Shiro's dick, comparing them. It's dumb that Shiro feels the need to win a silly size challenge with a fucking toy (quite literally).
"Question is if you know how to use it," Keith mutters, reaching for the toy without taking his eyes off Shiro.
"I could show you," Shiro pokes, giving himself a few tugs and sighing.
Keith pauses. If it's because of Shiro's suggestion or the distraction his hand around himself ensues, he's not sure, but Shiro can see he's not bothered.
"You're not allowed to touch me," Keith reminds him, although his words lack the heat and strict tone of before.
"Guess you'll never know, then," he teases.
Keith's gaze falls to his cock, interest unwavering as he lubes up the dragon dildo with practiced ease. The corner of his lip curves when he notices how Shiro tries to mimic the touches he gives to the fake cock in his hands. Thankfully he doesn't comment on it, although amusement dances on his expression.
"Whatever," he grumbles, glancing at his handwork before he goes back to watch Shiro's hand travel over his extension.
His cunt twitches and Shiro chokes down a groan when he does the same in his hand.
"Except it's not," Shiro hisses, trying to measure his breaths before he overheats himself.
"What?"
Shiro meets his eyes, watching him shudder and cower before looking back.
"You want me, Keith," he states, as if it's a fact rather than just a possibility. "You want me inside of you."
Keith's throat works around a tight gulp, eyes glazing over when he studies Shiro's dick again.
"You want me to fill you up." Shiro continues, words slurred with desire, eyes dark with every flinch from the pink skin between Keith's thighs. "To stretch you open. To feel me up to your gut, so deep you can't even think."
Keith shivers, a quiet 'fuck' falling from his bitten-till-red lips while he scrambles to put the head of the toy against his pussy. "Keep talking." He demands.
Shiro is happy to oblige.
"You want me to fuck you. Rail you into your mattress. Pound into you until your voice goes raw from screaming my name."
The cock head pushes into him, plopping inside of Keith with a flinch, but the noise that comes from Keith's chest is far from pain. It's surreal to see Keith stretching himself with the dragon dildo, slow but purposeful, pushing and pulling with a trembling hand.
"Oh, fuck," Shiro hisses, ears burning with the wet noises echoing in the room, mouth watering for a taste. "So tight, baby."
Keith gasps, eyes flickering from focusing on Shiro and glassing up from the pleasure. "Y-yeah?"
He sounds out-of-it, breathless, lightheaded. Shiro is quick to reassure.
"Yeah, sweetheart. So good. You're so good to me."
Keith's hips jolt, pushing more of the toy into himself, and Shiro tightens his hand around the base of his dick, feeling far too close to losing himself.
But this is only starting.
"Oh, gorgeous." Keith blinks at him, mouth open in gasps. Shiro can look at him forever.
"So hot. So pretty." He eyes Keith's core, steadily taking the dildo until its bulbs bump his lips wetly. "You want it all inside, don't you? So deep you can feel it up your throat. So deep you can't breathe."
Keith outright whines , head arched to the ceiling.
"Yes, baby." Shiro grunts, hand quickening to follow the desperate thrusts Keith does into him, trying to press the bulbs inside his pussy with dirty grinds that make Shiro's gut lit up on fire. "You can do it, honey. Take it ."
With a gasp, Keith shoves the entire thing inside, quavering from head to toe when orgasm crashes over him all of the sudden. His cunt gushes around the toy, throbbing from pleasure, and Shiro groans, tightening his hand on the base of his dick to keep from coming. He doesn't want orgasm to cloud his sight, the gorgeous vision Keith paints in front of him, hips moving on his own volition to milk himself with the dildo now trapped in his pussy while his hands fist the covers of his bed, wet with come.
He barely manages, trying to focus on Keith instead of how hard and painful his erection is getting. But watching Keith is also a challenge. He's shivering, panting for air, a sheen coat of sweat over his skin making his hair stick to his flushed face. His legs fall apart a little more when he weakly collapses into his pillows, stretching his neck and back like a lazy cat, and Shiro stares between his thighs, feeling himself throb at every shudder and squeeze his pussy does around the girth of the toy.
"Looking something you like?"
Shiro forces himself to meet Keith's gaze, still glassy from the peak of pleasure, but there's an edge of smugness in his expression. He loves being the center of Shiro's attention.
"Very much."
The corner of Keith's smile crooks, pleased.
"You haven't come," he points out, languidly gesturing over his staring cock.
Shiro looks down at himself, too, shuddering out a breath. "Didn't want this to end so soon."
The admission feels too vulnerable, the blurry edges of steamy sex sharpening with reality.
Keith doesn't reply immediately and Shiro knows he ruined it. Stupid feelings, can't get a good time without them getting in the way.
"Sorry, uh." He clears his throat, can't seem to gather enough courage to look at Keith either. "I-I'm-"
"Who said it has to end here, old man?"
Shiro flinches when Keith drops to the floor, in the scarce space between the bed and his body. They're still not touching, which is a miracle, but from this distance he can see the way Keith's hair curls from the warmth of his body, the flush of his cheeks. He can smell the husky wetness sticking to Keith's inner thighs, cunt still split open by the toy and its bulbs, his dick still standing proud under his hood.
"Keith-" Shiro breathes. Pleads . He's going to be the death of him.
"Arms behind you."
Shiro struggles to do as he's told, telling his hands to pull back until they're behind him, eyes not leaving Keith's crotch. He doesn't have a good view of his pussy anymore, but the dildo is still there, base soaked in Keith's juices. He gulps, throat clicking dry.
"Good old man," Keith coos, putting himself comfortable in front of him and letting out a unrestrained moan when he grinds against the dildo. "F-fuck- So full ."
Shiro's gaze chase his hands to his belly, right below his navel, and his brain fizzles when he sees it. Right under Keith's fingers, something billows the thin skin, becoming more prominent when Keith sighs and leans back on his bed, lazily moving his hips in dirty circles.
"So deep," Keith chuckles, twitching with every good grind over the toy.
Shiro stares, eyes burning from the lack of blinking. The toy is big, yes. But Shiro knows he is bigger . He could reach even higher. Deeper. Better.
He could do so much better for Keith.
"You could, huh?" Keith shudders, eyes falling to Shiro's neglected cock.
At this point, Shiro's not surprised his mouth is doing the talking before he can even order it to. "Yeah, baby."
Keith huffs, but his hungry eyes don't leave Shiro's cock. He's measuring, Shiro realizes when he stays quiet, just looking up and down his extension.
Almost considering.
The thought burns Shiro from inside out, dick helplessly twitching.
"Oh my," Keith laughs softly, looking breathless again. "That thing has thumbs."
Shiro chokes, laughter twisted into a moan when Keith wraps his hand around him, weighting him.
"I-I thought-"
"You're the one not allowed to touch," Keith purrs, hand experimenting with a slow drag up his glans and then down to his base. "I can do whatever I want."
And Shiro is happy to let him have anything he wishes for.
"Okay, baby," Shiro agrees, dizzy with every drag of Keith's fingers around him, every twist at the head and squeeze at the base.
"You are big," Keith whispers, more to himself. His hips go up and down, following the flick of his wrist. "You'd feel good inside of me."
"Good," Shiro repeats mindlessly, trying not to move and chase Keith's warm hand, still wet with his own come. "I'd be so good for you, boy."
Keith shivers, meeting his gaze.
"You're going to come for me, old man?" He teases, thumbing over his glans. Shiro shudders.
It's incredibly tempting, but Shiro doesn't want this to end.
"I-I-" Shiro gulps, eyes fluttering close with every inch closer to orgasm. "I don't- Keith -"
"Yes, Shiro?"
Shiro blinks meeting Keith's eyes and watching his expression growing surprised.
"Takashi," he whispers. Pleads for mercy. "Call me-"
"Takashi." Keith mutters, tongue rolling pleasantly around his name. He looks so good having all control over Shiro's body, over Shiro's whole soul. "Come for me, 'kashi."
He goes dizzy with the force of orgasm, crashing on him like a freight train. He trembles, going numb, and Keith helps him through it, mumbling sweet nothings into his ear. When the aftershocks go smoother, Shiro realizes he has buried his face into Keith's neck.
"Good," Keith keeps whispering, fingers only caressing his extension in worshipping touches. "So good for me."
Shiro whines, blinking his eyes open to look down at himself, at how careful Keith is with his softening cock. His hand is dripping with come, some of it even stripped over his stomach, and Shiro feels himself blush, nuzzling into the crook of Keith's neck. It's incredibly comforting, but an alarm keeps going off in Shiro's head — No touching. Not allowed to touch. Bad Shiro.
He whimpers, trying to force himself to pull away, but before he can manage, a steady hand covers his nape, keeping him in the safe haven Keith's neck has become to his confounded mind. Keith shushes him, fingers going through his buzzcut, and Shiro relaxes into his embrace.
"It's alright," he whispers, and Shiro lets out a shaky breath. "That's it, breathe."
Shiro does as he's bid, slowly inhaling Keith's intense scent —of sweat and eucalyptus and musk. He's still touching Shiro, although it's more in reassurance rather than arousing.
"You alright?" Keith asks a minute or so later, when Shiro's breathing has slowed to normal and his nuzzling has become more intent instead of mindless search for affection.
"I-" Shiro winces, voice cracking in the sole letter. He hears Keith chuckle. "That was..."
Keith hums in agreement, despite Shiro not finishing his thought. Shiro wonders if it was as good for Keith as good as it was for him.
"I-" Shiro swallows, pulling away a little. "Can I..."
Keith frowns, meeting his gaze, and he tilts his head, looking incredibly adorable.
"What?"
Shiro tries not to cower. "Touch. More, I mean."
Keith muses over it, but he doesn't seem bothered. "Sure."
Shiro feels himself smile briefly, catching how Keith chuckles at it.
"Shut up," Shiro scolds lightly and Keith scoffs.
"Never."
Shiro lets his hands pull away from behind him, hesitating before reaching for Keith. He tries to keep it simple first, a hand on a shoulder, a knuckle over his elbow, but Shiro can't seem to get enough of touching Keith, even when it's not in a sexual manner.
He hesitates again when he eyes the scars beneath Keith's pecs, tracing a curve down from his nipples. Keith watches him for a second, and then huffs.
"You can. Go on."
Shiro bites his lip and finally thumbs along the scar, following the ragged line slowly.
"Yeah," Keith hums again, and the movement of his hips catch Shiro's attention.
Shiro pulls away, just enough to look down between them, at Keith's still stuffed pussy and at his weakly-twitching cock.
It's such a sight to have, so pretty and perfect.
"Oh," Keith chuckles when he sees what Shiro is staring at so intently, and he raises on his knees, dragon dildo falling out of him with a wet 'pop', " Ah - That's good."
Shiro feels his cock throb uselessly.
But the arousal doesn't stop there, not when Keith curiously passes his hand through the mess Shiro did over him and pushes it into himself. Shiro can't look properly from where he's standing, but the wet noises are burning him from inside out.
"Oh, fuck," Shiro groans, and Keith moans softly, "K-keith- Gods... wow."
Keith chuckles, and his hips follow his fingers for a second before he pulls them out of himself. "Yeah?"
And it's such a greedy thought to have after everything Keith has indulged him in, but-
"Keith..." Shiro repeats like a mantra and Keith meets his gaze, so steady it drives him insane. "C-can I..."
Shiro chokes on his words, gulping and throwing another fleeting glance to where Keith is wet with his and Shiro's come.
Keith frowns, following Shiro's gaze down at himself before shaking his head. "You're not going inside me."
Shiro pauses, a choked-out laugh coming from his throat. But there's apprehension on Keith's expression, on the way he's holding himself, and Shiro needs to clarify
"No, no." He breathes, cupping Keith's cheek to make them lock their gazes. Keith looks annoyed to do so, but complies when Shiro thumbs along the crest of his cheek. "I wasn't going to ask that."
Keith pouts and the thought around Shiro's head grows stronger.
"Then what?" Keith snaps, although it lacks of heat.
Shiro smiles, teasing. "I was thinking about a kiss, if you want."
Keith gasps, soft and shocked, but his eyes glimmer in relief. In compliance.
"Okay," he mutters, glancing down at Shiro's mouth. "I want that."
Shiro smiles before he presses his lips into Keith's, feeling them open in a sigh. They're slightly chapped and definitely plump after biting down on them. Shiro shivers, and pulls away, staring at Keith's mouth, and tries to kiss them again when Keith puts his finger in the way.
"You said 'a' kiss," Keith teases, lashes fluttering and breath irregular. Shiro chuckles.
"Do I have to ask every time?"
Keith nods a little mindless. "I'd go for it and try my luck, old man."
"Can I?" he asks, and Keith nods again, meeting Shiro halfway. "Again?" he asks when they part and Keith hums in agreement, kissing Shiro back as quickly as Shiro wishes to.
He tries to ask for it the next times, too. But words soon don't make any sense, the kisses getting long and heated. Keith throws his arms around Shiro's neck and Shiro finds himself holding unto Keith's impossibly trim waist. fingers meeting around him.
It's beautiful. Like coming home. Like finding his place in the universe with Keith's arms wrapped around him, keeping him close to kiss.
"Shiro." Keith finally breaks the kiss, breathing heavy and ragged, "How are you real?"
Shiro grins, "I could ask you the same thing."
Keith bites down on his smile, eyes fluttering at Shiro.
"I don't..." Keith starts, hesitating, "I don't think I'm done with you."
Shiro feels his chest warm up. "I'm here for as long as you want, baby," he assures. "But know that I'm not with you either."
Keith's smile goes sharp then and suddenly Shiro is pushed to his back, Keith climbing over him.
"Good." Keith announces, sliding up until his thighs are bracketing Shiro’s head and his cunt is fluttering in front of Shiro's face. "Then, let's have fun."
Shiro feels his throat go dry. "Let's do so, boy."