whatsacactus | (no subject)

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.]

[He's choosing not to think of that detail. The wonderful thing about Shiro is that he's marvelously strong-willed.

Their adjustments result in the little griffon giving them the world's most baleful look before it flutters (so it can fly) to the top of a nearby-- armoire, he supposes -- where it turns itself into a tightly wound ball of iridescent fluff, pointedly ignoring them.

He tries not to laugh at its obvious indignation. At least Shadow just slunk to the floor.

Keith, though-- Shiro focuses his attention on him. He's so pale-- (when was the last time any of them got any sun?) and skinnier than he should be (two years on a space whale will do that to you, he supposes) and he has so many more scars than Shiro remembered. One of them, a shallow scrape along his ribcage, arrests his attention. Shiro thumbs at it, sitting back across Keith's thighs.

A lot of what this body did to him will scar. That hurts. It's not a matter of marring a canvas - Keith has always had scars, and being unscarred has never been relative to perfection for Shiro - but it's just. So much hurt, so much pain, and he's still letting him touch him like this.

He already apologized once, and he knows Keith wouldn't accept him doing it again so instead he just brushes his hand past one that's healing well and then leans down until he's right beside his ear.]

Wanna help me out of my shirt? I'm feeling a little overdressed.

[It's only fair.]

[The touches give him a shiver. Keith closes his eyes to let himself soak up that feeling. Each scar has a story, from 'fighting a clone of the guy I love in space to near-death' to 'beat up a jerk in a Denny's parking lot because he insulted my sim score'. Since his father died, that's all he's known: fighting for himself. He's never claimed to be anything less than that.

Keith doesn't move or pull away. He lets Shiro look him over, touch whatever skin is available to him. It's the voice by his ear though that almost has him in goosebumps. He nods, making something close to an affirmative noise (he doesn't trust his words right now not to be needy and disgusting, his voice to not give away what he actually wants) and moves his hands to the hem of Shiro's shirt. For now, he carefully starts lifting it, not sure how fast Shiro wants it gone and erring on the side of slow.]

['Slow' is a relative term around Keith. His idea of it is everyone else's 'one step down from light-speed'. But the fact that he's trying... Shiro's expression is so tender, genuine and aching as he leans in and kisses Keith at the crown of his hair.

It's funny, how these little gestures of tenderness just happen so naturally with Keith. The aversion that Shiro's always had about initiating physical contact with others - this kind of physical activity - seems to be worn away just as a matter of rote. This feels natural, like something they've already been doing for an age.

There's still a lot he wants to unpack about it. He still feels guilty, a little ashamed, not entirely sure, but he's here. They're trying it. He won't apologize for it.]

Keith.

[Just his name, said in that warning tone Shiro gets sometimes.]

A little faster? ['let's find a compromise for this pace'.] I won't break, you know.

Got it.

[He has to bite back the instinctual yes, sir that almost slips out. Not here, not now. Maybe another time. Maybe after some rather honest discussions about what they like and want.

For now, he speeds up a little, working to get the shirt over Shiro's head and off, letting his fingers trace along the skin. He knows this is the clone body, and not the original Shiro. Not the same that crashed on Earth, that fought in the arena, that Keith fought alongside at the start of things. But for whatever reason, she'd mimicked some of the scars on this body.

Keith takes a breath and looks up to him, not sure what to do. He's used to being the one initiating and performing. Being here is... weird.]

Just didn't want to push too fast.

Don't worry about me.

[He's not unselfconscious about his body. Never really has been. Objectively, he knows he's attractive. It's the arm that bothered him. Its physical presence, its appearance. It would have been different if it was an Earth prosthetic. If the arm had been damaged or destroyed in a fight or an accident.

But it wasn't. Haggar just... had it removed. She wanted to see if he could take it, if his body could adapt to the tech. She wanted to experiment on a race she'd never come in contact with before. If it wasn't him, it would have been Matt or Sam. Being vulnerable like that is what he's ashamed of, more than the damage it did to his body. It tells a story of a time he wasn't strong enough. But at least it happened to him.

The skin is scarred where she fitted the prosthetic to this body, it's rough and calloused where the metal edge is overlaid on the skin. How many clones died before she perfected the process? Given how many pods there were, this can't have been the first. This was an ongoing project. And she lashed them all down and took their arms, too.

(He hasn't tried to suss out whether or not its removal is in the clone's memories. He remembers what it was like, he was conscious for it. He doesn't need to relive that. But he can be angry that it very likely happened to someone else. A clone is still a person, even if none of them were ever allowed to be anything but him.)

So Shiro's frowning, just a bit, as he glances down at the stump of the prosthesis, and then he shakes his head. Pushes it down.]

I'm pretty sure I've always been able to keep up with you.

[He's the only one that can match Keith's speed in a fight, after all.]

[Something close to want shines in his eyes at that. There's a ghost of a smirk on his face watching Shiro, resting his hands on Shiro's shoulders.]

We could always test that.

[There's a confidence there, confidence he hasn't shown Shiro in a while. Definitely not in a situation like this. He settles underneath him, trying to be comfortable with Shiro's weight on his thighs.]

Only if you wanted.