whatsacactus | (no subject)

[Keith lets the hand fall there, doesn't move to shrug it off. It's comfortably warm. It feels natural there.

But before long, the sounds of the weather outside and Shiro's steady breathing lull him to sleep there too. It doesn't take much for him to start sprawling, limbs everywhere and all over. He hasn't felt comfortable and safe enough to sleep so deeply in such a long time.]

[He sleeps like the dead. As one of the few people who knows what that feels like, it's an apt turn of phrase.

Some time during the night he gravitates towards the warmth and familiarity of Keith's body and they end up halfly tangled. When he wakes, Keith's arm is flung across his chest and Shiro's bum leg is being supported by Keith's thigh.

It's startlingly intimate and he blinks himself the rest of the way awake. Still, he doesn't want to wake Keith. So instead he just... closes his eyes and listens to the ongoing storm.]

[He doesn't know when he wakes up. He just knows it's warm. He shifts a little, feeling his weight distributed weirdly with his surroundings. Shiro's tangled up with him (and if that isn't a dream, he isn't sure what is), the little griffon nestled against his neck. At some point, Shadow climbed in and fell asleep on his not-used-by-Shiro-leg.

What if every morning they could wake up like this?

What if every morning he didn't feel like he was overheating.

He groans a little, tries to at least get Shadow off him while he sits up to peel his shirt off. It's almost too hot.]

Come on... Go to the end of the bed at least.

[He doesn't say anything, move or protest that. He does crack an eye as Keith shifts around, watches him take his shirt off. He's seen him shirtless hundreds of times, including most recently when he cleaned the injury on his shoulder, but the context has shifted.

Shiro kissed him. And it didn't... it didn't feel wrong.

He exhales faintly, and before Keith can settle back down he reaches up to that wound on his shoulder blade. It's bandaged, and he doesn't intend to remove them, but--]

Hold still.

[He touches the skin gently at the edge of the bandage, looking for the telltale lingering warmth of an infection, but when he's satisfied it's on the mend he lets his hand fall away, though not without first tracing down the bumps of Keith's spine.]

G'morning.

[He says that around a yawn, voice pitched low and husky from sleep.]

[Oh.

Keith waits when Shiro tells him to hold still. Feels the hand on his back and remembers his shoulder. Right. Shiro would want to check that. But it tracing down his spine gives him goosebumps and the tone of Shiro's voice... He hasn't heard it like that.

He swallows hard as he lays back down, not trusting himself to face Shiro. There's no telling what his face looks like.]

Morning.

Sleep all right?

[There's a note of concern there now, and Shiro pushes himself up into a sitting position.]

Yeah. [Oh god his own voice, he clears his throat. Shiro doesn't need to hear how bad he wants him this early.]

Did until Shadow decided to use my leg as a pillow.

[He huffs a laugh, and reaches out to where Shadow's sprawled across the foot of the bed to give her a playful scratch.]

I'm sure she meant well. Huh, girl?

[His attention flickers briefly to Keith, then away.]

We still okay?

[Last thing he wants is for Keith to have had some sort of change of heart in the night.]

[Keith turns his head to watch him, watch how Shiro moves. How he stretches.

When Shiro asks, Keith reaches to touch what he can reach - Shiro's side - and keep his hand there with a little smile.]

We are. Was thinking of different ways to spend the morning, is all.

[It's been a long time since someone touched him just because. Pidge hugged him, they've leaned on each other when they've been injured, but before that it was-- a year of physicality being a matter of pain. Either inflicting it to others or having it done to him. He doesn't flinch - what Keith means to him is older and overrides the impulses the Galra laid down in his mind - but he does draw a slightly uneven breath. Then he covers Keith's hand with his own, pressing it down gently.]

Well, the storm hasn't let up. I'm all for staying in bed.

[... sleeping. He means sleeping, but it sure doesn't come out that way.]

[Yeah, that definitely gives Keith a different idea.

He'd be lying if he said he hasn't ever thought about doing other things with Shiro. He doesn't want to show all his cards up front the day after Shiro showed himself vulnerable in getting them started, but he's tempted.

Patience. (yields focus. Not a good time to laugh, self.)

Instead, he shifts to hug his waist outright, face against Shiro's back.]

Sounds good to me. Did you still wanna sleep or...

[That sure is a change in position. It's comfortable and warm and there's a sort of safety here, for both of them. This could be every day for the rest of their lives.

(Shiro doesn't imagine things by halfs. He can't fathom a life without Keith, and if this is how they're going to be from now on, it makes sense that this would be every day.)

He rubs his hand through his hair and tries to-- relax. The tension isn't anything Keith's done, it's more just... something he's always carried. He's just more aware of it when in close proximity to someone he trusts.]

I'm open to suggestion.

[He says that lightly enough.]

[All the thirsty desires in Keith's mind turn collectively at that. He thinks about that, all the little selfish things he kept tucked away for the last few years. Would Shiro even want to do any of that? Maybe.

He thumbs along Shiro's stomach, feeling the muscle there under his shirt while he thinks.]

... 've thought about some things I'd wanna do with you, if you ever wanted.

[That raises both his eyebrows. The idea that Keith has-- fantasized about him makes his pulse jump. Leave it to Keith to put that ball in his court and then run the hell away from it, though.

Shiro just... exhales a bit. It's probably easier for Keith to say these things without looking at him, but it's slightly frustrating to Shiro, who's always put so much stock in what a person says with their eyes.

He captures one of Keith's hands in his, brings it up to his mouth and kisses at his palm.]

Yeah? Well, what do you like?

[He knows Keith isn't-- inexperienced. People talked at the Garrison, and a lot of them wanted Shiro to know just how deeply they disapproved of his choice in wards, but he'd written it mostly off as slander right up until the locker room incident.]

[Keith would have to be an idiot to think Shiro hadn't heard some of the stories. Shiro had stuck his neck out to get him into the Garrison, it was only natural that any time he fucked up, Shiro heard about it. The thing is he doesn't know how much detail Shiro was given.

His heart jumps when Shiro kisses his palm, and he realizes just how much more he'd really like right now. He scoots a little closer, flush against his back wanting him close.

He always gets annoyed when people don't just say what they mean. It'd be hypocritical if he didn't do it himself.]

Wouldn't mind being on my knees in front of you.

[But he has to test the waters. They've only just started this and he doesn't want to scare him off with his eagerness.]

[well that does it.

Shiro definitely just chokes on saliva and the resultant coughing fit is so bad he actually has to sit upright and grope around for that cup of tea - now a day old - that he'd left at the bedside for Keith. GIVE HIM A SECOND, PLEASE, HE NEEDS TO REBOOT HIS ENTIRE BRAIN AND POSSIBLY ALSO HIS CENTRAL NERVOUS SYSTEM.]

I--

[nope, still needs to clear his throat a bit better than that. He coughs again, and then sets the cup back down. That mental image has absolutely been burned into his brain and it's-- a welcome idea. Concept. Activity.

He should have known Keith would be forward about it.]

I'd like that.

[He's probably several very interesting shades of red in the interim, though. Getting himself back under control is an Effort.]

But maybe-- maybe not right away. I think we should start-- with something a little easier.

[Shiro starts coughing and Keith backs up fast. Give him space, and all. Okay, so now he knows where that line is. (A very short line, apparently.)

Once the tea is out of his hand, Keith carefully rests his hand on Shiro's back, circling it gently.]

Just-- Thought I'd put it out there. But okay. Something easier.

[A beat.]

Like what?

[It sort of just wrings a faintly embarrassed laugh out of him. Keith, he's decided, is a menace.]

Might not be a bad idea to just-- get used to kissing first.

Oh. Right.

[He forgets sometimes, people like slow. He's used to his own impatience, but he needs to get used to Shiro's pace.]

We can do that.

[Shiro exhales, long and slow, and then reaches for Keith. He knows whatever he does that Keith will go along with it willingly.

But he's never really known the meaning of slow. If ever there was a kid who learned to walk before he could crawl, it'd be Keith. On the other hand, Shiro and Aisha had been dating for months before they did anything more than kiss. But they'd been younger then than Keith is now. What a strange thought.

Shiro just traces the line of his jaw gently and then lets his hand settle - again - at the back of his neck before he tugs him in. If Keith happens to take it as encouragement to straddle his thighs, he won't protest too much.

This kiss starts out just as chaste as the last, soft and sweet, and when Shiro breaks it off it's to press his mouth against the elegant line of Keith's throat.]

[He sucks in a breath when Shiro goes in for the kiss. This time he does lean in, starved for the warmth and touch. He wants to be close, so he scoots almost against Shiro's knees.

The kiss to his throat though. He has to close his eyes and remember to breathe. It's so soft and unusual for him.]

Good... Good answer.

[Precious few people had ever been kind to Keith before Shiro met him. He's willing to bet that whatever sexual encounters he'd had... haven't ever really been with someone that cared. Some people are like that. They don't need the love to be there, but Keith...

Keith's been starved for affection over half his life.

Shiro kisses at his shoulder, trails his fingers up. The scars are rough under his hands.]

I'm good like that.

[He swallows hard, resting a hand on the back of Shiro's head and sinking his fingers into the short hair there.]

Yep. You, you sure are.

[Breathing is hard like this, trying not to show just how bad that gets to him.]

[Shiro smiles a bit crookedly, the expression lost against Keith's shoulder.]

Let's trade spots.

[Mostly he kind of just wants to pin Keith down against the bed and kiss him blind, but he doesn't want to get too far beyond his original goal of just... being slow. Learning what he likes. Shiro isn't capable of half assing anything. If he's in this, he's going to do it right. Treat Keith right.]

[His eyebrows go up at that suggestion. Shiro taking charge is ...attention grabbing, to say the least.

He scratches his fingers through Shiro's hair and nods, shifting to start laying back. For a split second, the thought that this was Zarkon and Hoverna's bed flashes through his mind; he moves to kiss Shiro's forehead instead to get it out of his head. If anything would kill the mood, that's a definite killshot.]