whatsacactus | (no subject)

[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.

[It has been a while since he's seen that side of Keith. The one with boundless confidence that manifests as being purely cocky. It's-- nice, actually, because as much as he can love the somber young man with worlds of hurt in his eyes, this is the punk he dragged kicking and sometimes screaming into self-belief.

He reaches up and brushes strands of Keith's hair back from his forehead, smiling just a touch.]

Easy, cowboy. Give it a few days. I don't think it's a good idea for us to do anything strenuous when we still have open wounds. But after-- yeah. Yeah, I'm up for the challenge.

You're on, then.

[He's going to hold Shiro to that. He wishes he had a way to make their wounds heal faster, safer. He wants everything he wants now, while also wanting the slow route to get to know Shiro like this too. It's a shame he can't have it both ways.

There are really only a few things Keith prides himself being any good at: fighting, flying, and taking care of someone. Shiro's only really known about two of those, having never been in a position for the third.]

Only after we heal up.

[He sort of gets a pout to his expression.] And don't call me 'cowboy' again.

[Oh Lord, that's adorable. Shiro actually laughs, sits back (most of his weight is on his left leg, he's not really resting too heavily on Keith. He's skinny. Not fragile, but Shiro's always considerate.]

Oh yeah? What're you gonna do if I do?

[He says that so teasingly.]

Guess you'd have to try and find out.

[Precisely what Shiro just said they weren't going to do, but Keith is nothing if not stupidly determined to do what he wants. All he needs is a reason.]

You sure you wanna risk that?

[this is a terrible idea.

and yet.]

Come at me, cowboy.

[And yet.

A wide grin spreads across his face. For a couple of seconds, he almost lunges forward to shove Shiro back and climb on. It's only the bruises on Shiro's front that slow him down. Settle into grabbing him by the neck and pulling him in for a hungry kiss, eager and desperate. He isn't testing waters anymore here; he knows what he wants.

He pulls away breathless, tugging at Shiro's bottom lip with his teeth and grins.]

Keep it up, this cowboy'll have to find someone to ride.

[The kiss is sloppy and messy and completely engrossing and Shiro absolutely did not expect him to be that good at it. He finds himself kissing back hungrily, leaning into it open-mouthed. He's panting too, when Keith pulls away.

It's the spoken sentiment that's going to take some getting used to. Just hearing it, the crassness of it all. Shiro - gamely - does not choke this time, though he does turn a little red. Okay, point to Keith. Should he make a comment about bucking? No, probably not. Metaphor taken too far.]

Kissing first.

[He's. Not going to think about the rest right now or it's going to make his pants terrifically uncomfortable.]

Yessir.

[He does let that one out, still smirking and arms around Shiro's neck. He wants to keep him close, feel his warmth, his breath. Shiro turning red is... cute. He never thought anything about Shiro and Aisha those years ago, but now he sort of wonders what all they did. What experience Shiro might have if he's getting this flustered by just words and implications.

Keith pulls him back in, nosing at the scar on Shiro's face gently.]

[He'd expected to have an objection to the sir. But he doesn't, really, which... surprises him. Logically, he knows he was never Keith's direct superior except in rank at the garrison, and while they were paladins-- it couldn't have been more obvious that they were there as equals. Keith was - and is - his strong right hand.

He turns his head and kisses Keith's cheek, working his way along his jaw, back to his neck. He drags his teeth across his jugular, not quite biting but definitely making a show of it, slow but sure.]

[Shiro goes for the neck, and Keith leans his head up, starting to lay back again. He swallows hard, gasping feeling the teeth. There's the hint of a whimper in his throat.]

Please.

[It's soft, a barely there thing. Keith almost never asks for anything. But he wants this, wants to feel Shiro there.]

Edited 2018-06-27 03:56 (UTC)

[It's the pitch of his voice, that soft plea that hits some deep, primal thing somewhere he's never really examined too closely. Shiro draws a sharp breath. He's torn between never wanting to hear Keith begging for anything ever again, (I know you're in there) and wanting to give him exactly what he's asking for.

Different context. It's all different. But Shiro still hesitates, breathing heavily, eyes tightly closed where Keith can't see. All he sees is the galra blade burning that mark onto his cheek and Shiro--

He has to fight it. They're changing what the past means to both of them.

The latter wins out. He does bite at him this time, careful but not especially gentle, (he knows that gentleness isn't what Keith wants right now, and he'll worry about all that later).

He does reach for Keith's hand and twine their fingers together, though, pressing down against the mattress. Holding him there, firm and unyielding as he laves at the skin after the bite. There's a bruise welling up to the surface.]

[Shiro's using his weight to keep him in place as he bites. He feels the skin under his teeth, and there's a noise that comes out of him he's carefully kept to himself even when they were all living in the castle still. He can tell it'll bruise later, even as Shiro is trying to sooth it. He'll probably be caught looking at it (admiring) it later.

Keith squeezes his hand taking deeper breaths. It's hard not to let this get his blood running hot and down below the hips. But respect. Not going further than kissing right now.]

Thanks. Really wanted that.

[Shiro pulls back enough to raise an eyebrow at him. Keith thanking him for-- marking him, essentially. Gently,]

You don't have to thank me.

[Keith watches him from under his own bangs.]

You also didn't have to do it at all.