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Milk Without Cookies

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Everything stays

Right where you left it

Everything stays

But it still changes

Ever so slightly

Daily and nightly

In little ways

When everything stays

    — Everything Stays, Adventure Time

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At first, Keith didn’t know what to say. Didn’t think words would fill the silence right. He was too awkward. Tried too hard, as if the tiny infant in his arm would somehow judge his lack of conversational skill when his mouth was full. But he’s always spoken a lot more when he’s nervous and boy, he certainly was more than terrified the first few times. It was a terrible thing – the baby became fussy, sensing his unease and would often refuse to latch, letting out a wail even with how hungry he was

But after a few times, Keith slowly got the hang of it. He eased into the feeding, once every few hours, like clockwork, at the same time each day. It settled him, the child came to associate him with love, warmth and food. His mother – somehow, even if that feels insane. If everyone else takes turn taking care of him, Keith knows that he’s the favourite and that makes him feel something very warm. Lance tries to tease him about it everyday, in the macho way Alphas sometimes act –even if he’s a Beta – but Keith can’t care when what he does is actually needed.

Plus, the child loves him. Each time he sees him when he wakes up he makes a sweet little smile. Giggles when he makes a face. Calms down instantly when he picks him up. It’s love in its purest form – the love of a child.

Shiro loves him.

It feels weird to think of him as Shiro, but it’s him, without a doubt. It’s obvious in the black hair and steel-like eyes. It’s obvious because they’ve found him tangled in Shiro’s armour, inside the Black Lion, crying loudly until Keith reached out to hold him. They don’t know what happened; what to do to make their leader recover the years he’s lost. Druid magic, Allura seems to think. They won’t know until they run some tests. The cryopods didn’t seem to find anything to fix with Shiro either.

He’s fine. He’s just—a baby.

And babies are hungry. And Shiro is, they quickly realize, much too young to be fed anything solid – even the Altean goo, if it’s soft enough, doesn’t seem to do. The alien taste seems to upset him and Keith just couldn’t take the snot-covered face and tears-filled eyes Shiro shot him when Coran kept insisting, and the mushy little “Mama” that came with a bubbly sob had made his instincts flare up. He had snatched him right out of the high chair, surprising everyone – himself included.

When Lance called him “mommy” as a joke, Keith punched him.

Of course, there was no formula on the ship – it was a military facility, not meant to host any children. Keith didn’t trust Coran to make anything good for him either and Allura decided it was time for them to find another market to attempt to find what they wanted. Keith didn’t want them to just wait until they found something and decided to take the matter into his own hands.

Being an Omega, Keith guessed, came with its perks. Between the crying and the shushing, Keith had tried a few times, bringing Shiro to his chest with his cheeks redder than his discarded leather jacket. Omegas could do this, he had heard, and even Alphas if the situation was dire enough. There were records of Alphas who spontaneously started to lactate after the death of their mates during childbirth.

Surely, it couldn’t be so hard to do it.

For the body, not so much. With enough simulation, it took only a day or so for it to happen. Keith guessed the heart-breaking cries were part of it too – his motherly instincts weren’t particularly developed, but children crying would be more upsetting for Omegas than for Alphas. Yet, even Hunk and Pidge had paced all day, tried to soothe Shiro with funny faces and noises. Even Lance would – which, he thinks, is surprising from him.

But Shiro hadn’t settled until he was fed and finally, he had fallen asleep against Keith, his little fists pressed to his chest still.

Keith still feels very odd at the idea that this is Shiro, even if he is so small, chubbier than he thought he’d have been, with cheeks that simply beg to be pinched. Keith wonders if it’s just his instincts but… there’s something nice about lying down with Shiro cradled in his arms, knowing he is safe, even if they don’t know what to do with him, how to bring back their leader…

At least, when he can hold him like that, Keith knows nothing will happen to him.

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Lance thinks it’s awkward.

Really, really fucking awkward.

Sure, he’s going to make faces to the baby and hold him when he fusses but… by now, it’s autopilot for him. It’s not something most would want to boast about – especially Alphas: it’s an Omega’s job, most will say, even today – but he’s cared for his younger siblings when his parents were overwhelmed and by now, it’s a second nature to just do it and take the matter in his hands. It should feel emasculating, most people say, but the fact that it’s still definitely Shiro makes it very, very odd.

What makes it weirder is seeing Keith, the grumpiest, moodiest person he’s ever seen become so soft with that baby. Lance hadn’t expected Keith to be so good with children.

“I’ve grown up in an orphanage. There were a lot of babies,” he told him, obviously unwilling to explain more about it.

That had been unexpected, too. Keith doesn’t talk about his past and the only person that knows anything about him is a babbling baby.

Shiro is unexpectedly cute too, bubbly and happy. He makes little exclamations often, chatty like only infants are. He gets adorably shy in front of Allura, hiding his face into Keith’s neck and giggling. Just imagining grown-man Shiro giggling feels… unhealthy.

That doesn’t seem to be a problem for Keith though. Being the only Omega on board with a bunch of mostly Alphas. Keith’s nature hadn’t been something that had bothered him or anyone before but now… the smells have changed. Lance is used to Omega smells because he’s grown up with two Omega siblings but Keith’s smell changed ever since he started feeding Shiro. It’s sweeter and softer – it says something very clear about fertility and Lance wants to bury his face in his neck, too. It doesn’t help that Shiro is an Alpha and their smells have mixed in a very odd way, as if proof that Keith would make good Alpha children.

It makes him feel like a caveman and Lance would like to think he’s more sophisticated than that.

Lance isn’t sure what to think about this – just that, it’s awkward. It’s not like he’s never thought Keith was cute before, no, of course – he’d be blind not to notice that Keith is handsome. Maybe he has a crush on him. And maybe the way his smell changed is exacerbating it. (Hunk already berated him for having a mommy kink and Lance doesn’t want to even think about calling Keith that.)

But it’s awkward. Especially when they’re sent together on one of these space malls, a bigger, different one from last time, so they can find supplies for Shiro. It almost feels like a date – it would if Keith wasn’t spending more time crooning to Shiro than talking to him. Feeling like he’s holding the candle to a baby is ridiculous but he really is Keith’s priority. Which leaves Lance to attempt to translate everything in the shops for him because Keith doesn’t seem to trust him with keeping an eye on his precious bundle.

As if Shiro would get kidnapped as soon as Keith would look away. Typical. Lance remembers his oldest sibling, when they had their first daughter and how they barely slept to make sure she was fine.

“What a cute baby!” the seamstress says, taking measurements with her four arms as Keith keeps one hand on Shiro protectively. “And he’s so calm, too. Usually, carbon-based infants get scared of those like us!”

Lance lifts an eyebrow at whatever that’s supposed to mean but Keith doesn’t seem to want to discuss too much. He takes over then, smiling wide as Keith just shrugs, “Shiro’s a good kid. He barely ever cries but he’s gotta be close to mommy or else he’s fussy.”

Keith glares at him, “Stop calling me that.”

The seamstress laughs, high-pitched enough to startle them all, adding as she turns to Keith, “So you’re his mother? Is Mr here your um… soul-bounded? Boyfriend? Mate?”

Keith scoffs, shaking his head quickly, laughing too, “No, Jesus—no. Lance isn’t my mate.”

Ouch. Rude. Did it seem so funny? Keith even looked at him, gauging him as if he was still finding it amusing. No need to rub it in.

“Who would want to even date you?” Lance grunts, catching a sympathetic stare from the cute seamstress. Keith just shakes his head, not caring as always. The seamstress seemed to know she’d hit a sensitive subject, and now keeps to herself, commenting on how calm Shiro is again.

But even the boy notices the shift in the mood between his trusted protectors, letting out a little chirpy noise before Keith leans in to reassure him, crooning against his ear as the seamstress leaves with her measures. Keith picks him back up, one hand on the clothes Coran sewed for him, as if he’ll disappear.

Lance guesses that’s a valid fear, by now.

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“You know what, it’s true that he’s cute,” Lance says, looking at Shiro as he drools on a chewing toy, dressed sharply as ever in a wolf onesie. Keith says it’s his favourite animal and it’s too fitting for Lance to even doubt it, even though he has for principle to not believe what Keith says right away.

But Keith is rarely wrong about Shiro. Even now, even when everyone is confused about which cries mean that he needs to be changed or to eat, Keith just seems to know. Maybe it’s because they’ve know each other for so long or maybe it’s because he’s an Omega but Lance doubts it – he got pretty good at guessing what his littlest brother needed when he listened well. Maybe it’s something different.

But maybe Keith is just used to caring for younger kids. Because he’s grown up in an orphanage and from what he says, the Christian place insisted for its Omega occupants to participate so they could learn to be good mates. It’s a little funny – Keith isn’t really the picture of the obedient Omega Lance has been taught to wish for. That said, nobody on the team is what anyone expects Alphas to be. Pidge is tiny, Hunk is a sweetheart who would rather obey Keith than make him obey and Lance, well… knows what to do with children but that’s not as unexpected from a Beta.

Lance thinks he’s still a little prejudiced. Most people are and things change at a turtle’s pace, just like mentalities. That said, the boy tries to catch himself when he thinks something he feels is backwards.

“I guess he is,” Keith says, shrugging, looking neither particularly pleased or unhappy, teasing the sushi-like meal in front of him. He spares Shiro a look, makes sure he doesn’t drop his toy on the dirty mall floor before picking a piece of food, chewing it, as if it’s bland and tasteless. It isn’t – Lance thinks it’s as tasty as the sushi he’s had in L.A. not too long before they’ve embarked on this crazy adventure.

Keith has been like this ever since the fight against Zarkon. It’s been about two weeks since the last battle and there’s been little activities enough from the Galras that they’ve had a break. All of them except Keith, who looks… tired.

What is up with him? Lance lifts an eyebrow, watching as Shiro just starts pawing at him, with a soft little croon, earning a soft sigh from the young man as he pulls the boy closer. Keith’s hand trail to the back of his little pyjama, dipping in to make sure he’s still dry. Shiro looks at him with these wide, grey-blue eyes, making another adorable sound.

“Hungry?” Lance asks, eyeing the rest of the various mall-goers around them. Is a crying baby as annoying to everyone else in the Universe? Probably.

Keith shrugs, leaving his food with a stare to it before picking Shiro up to bring him closer. “Maybe.”

Lance kicks his chair back when he sees Keith pull his shirt up, uncaring that anyone can see his chest, pulling Shiro closer. The young man hurries to yank the black shirt back down, groaning at him, giving a light slap to the top of his head. Shiro lets out a noise of protest and Keith glares up.

“What the fuck is wrong with you, Alvarez?” he grunts, batting his hand away from him, standing up with Shiro against him. The baby looks between them, as if aware something is wrong as the tension rises.

“You can’t just do that in the open!”

“Why the fuck not?” Keith groans, holding Shiro tighter when he hears an upset noise come from him. The aliens around them are watching them but that seems to be of little important to Keith as he grips the front of Lance’s shirt to pull him down to his level. “It’s fucking natural. He’s hungry. Who cares if anyone sees my tits? It’s not like it’ll give anybody a boner.”

Ah.

“Well—just—“ Lance pulls Keith’s hand off of him, running a hand through his hair in annoyance. “Nobody wants to see your tits.” A little lie. Lance wouldn’t mind seeing some of his skin because he knows it’s fucking soft. Keith is much more modest on the Castle Ship. Maybe it’s because he’s not with strangers all around.

Except he’s not a stranger.

“Listen, let’s just get to somewhere private?” Lance tries, looking around to try to find a toilet or something. Usually, dining areas have some washrooms close.

Keith stares at him like he’s crazy, rolling his eyes before turning to Shiro when he starts getting fussy, rubbing circles into his back. “Whatever,” he sighs. “I don’t feel like arguing with you until he cries. Just bring the stuff and I’ll find a quiet place. So your jimmies won’t be rustled.”

“My jimmies—“ Fuck you too. Grabbing the numerous bags and leaving their half-eaten food behind, Lance hurries behind him.

The mall is mostly empty that day. Finding a quiet place doesn’t take long but by then, Shiro is noisy, pulling on Keith’s collar and hair with his little hands, looking to Keith’s face with insistence. Keith shushes him gently as he turns a corner, walking into a restroom that smells suspiciously like the ones in the ship’s. Whatever is used here is the same fragrance. It feels oddly familiar and Lance just watches as Keith hops on the counter to sit comfortably, pulling his jacket off.

Keith hikes his shirt up again, rolling it under his armpits as he brings Shiro closer. The baby lets out a happy little noise, latching instantly as Lance feels his lower body warm up instantly. What can he say? He’s a guy and there’s something hot about Keith, the lithe muscles of his abdomen, the impossibly tiny waist and the cute swell of his breasts. Keith’s never hidden but there wasn’t that much before and now they’ve filled beautifully. It’s still quite less than a handful but at least he’s not so flat now. Lance hopes he’s going to keep some of it.

His head leans against the mirror, strands bunching against it prettily. With the light coming from above, Keith looks like a painting, relaxed, eyes closed. He’d fit right into a maternity ad, with Shiro snuggled to his chest, his eyes closed like he knows nothing will happen to him – Lance is well aware Keith wouldn’t let anyone even touch Shiro unless they’ve murdered him first –, tiny hands pressing to the young man’s breasts to help the milk to come out.

Lance feels hot suddenly, just from watching a coiled baby drink, eyes trailing to Keith’s half-parted lips. There’s a sigh that sounds just like a moan and it gets right into him, right into his belly. The boy clears his throat, catching Keith’s eyes as they open again. Awkward. Lance is aware his comrade has been doing this for weeks now but actually seeing him do it feels… more than weird.

Keith gives a look at Shiro, the peaceful little face as he drinks happily, safe, sound. It’s sad, deeper than Lance can tell. It’s like there’s guilt in his eyes as he looks away too. Lance realizes, just now, that Keith looks like he’s missing someone. He’s missing Shiro when he’s right there in his arms. There’s a sympathetic pinch that feels like it’s gutting him and Lance offers him a smile, as if it would help a little. He’s not alone but it’s like Keith doesn’t know that – or doesn’t know how to take being with someone that isn’t Shiro, how to take their help.

“When it starts hurting he’s usually hungry not long after. An hour or something like that and he just… wants some food.” Keith looks back to Shiro, the way he sleepily grips at him, making a content little noise every few seconds.

“It hurt?” Lance realises that he barely knows anything about – breastfeeding. It’s weird to see it happening right in front of him, with Keith swinging his left foot like nothing much’s happening. Lance knows he’s the weird one for getting worked up but seeing Keith be so nonchalant about it just further confirms it.

Keith lets out a little laugh, nodding with a grunt, “Fuck, it does. Kinda… hurt when he drank at first, too. Kinda a lot.” The other boy looks to the ceiling above him, as if feeling a little ill at ease. They’re having a conversation about breastfeeding, Lance realizes, and he remembers again how uncomfortable the whole situation is. Probably even more for Keith, even if the Red Paladin tries to seem untouchable. Lance never expected that they would eventually be speaking about this but here they are.

A moment passes, as if Keith realizes the oddity of their situation. It still seems impossible, even when Lance looks at Shiro, scarred button nose pressed to the swell of milk, kneading Keith like a kitten. Keith doesn’t say anything else and Lance can feel his mind wander somehow, thinking that, against all odds, Keith would make an amazing father, by the way he gently caresses Shiro’s cheeks with him thumb, wipes his mouth and changed sides.

And when the sight of a pink, swollen and spit-slick nipple stares back at him, Lance feels his cheeks darken, breath becoming a little shallow. He shouldn’t think of it like this. He shouldn’t think of Keith like this, especially not with what he’s doing.

So he looks away, remembers that this is temporary – but Keith, of course, is forever off-limits.

Chapter Text

Sweet to me
Like sugar to my heart
oooh baby
I'm craving for you
I'm missing you like candy
Sweet sweet loving
Got me going to the extreme

Candy, Mandy Moore

 

 

 

It’s so, so sweet. Or, well, it has to be, because Lance can’t quite get the taste right. But… it must be sweet.

Maybe his taste buds just aren’t used to the taste. It’s the first time he drinks something like this. Or well… not the first time, but certainly wouldn’t be able to remember it, since the last time he did, was when he was just a baby. He darts his tongue out to try to taste skin beneath the drops of sweet milk, earning a soft moan in return.

His hand moves down between Keith’s thighs, satiny-soft, hairless, pressing his fingers to the slit right under his short cock, drawing another mewl from him. He’s wet already, slick and shiny there, cunt tightening around his fingers with a little gasp. He’s so tight, it’s barely possible to move around. If he didn’t know better, he would have thought he was a virgin.

But he smells too good for that, smells like he’s just whelped, an Alpha, at that. Still nursing. Still defenceless. The cub’s smell is still all over him, seeped right through his skin – good dam, good mate; as they say. Lance isn’t sure where he heard that. His grandmother, maybe. She had always had a knack for idioms about dynamics. It hurts to admits because he loves the woman, but she’s also the source of many of his backwards beliefs about natures. It’s alright – she’s eighty, she can be wrong and have dated ideas, he just has to get rid of them, he still loves her.

Even if she’s wrong. Especially about Omegas.

Because Keith ruins everything about what she says Omegas are like, should be. The lines of his abs shouldn’t have been there, according to her. Hidden behind his skin, there’s muscles, more obvious on his thighs, so toned they could crush his wrist if Keith felt like it. Somehow, it’s arousing. If he wasn’t naturally so scrawny, Lance bets that he’d be pear-shaped.

But no. On Keith, there’s muscles, bones, a little of fat, barely. It makes him think of these Alphas who swear that an Omega must be pudgy, that there must be something to hold. That they should be comfortable to lie on, look like they can carry youngs. Lance isn’t sure what his old friends from the Garrison would think of him if he admitted to them today that he liked Keith because he looks like he could kick his ass – he could and would, too.

Maybe the fear for his fingers’ safety is part of the thrill. If Keith had anything to offer, it was the ecstasy of danger, like mantises, when reproduction and copulation is coupled with the danger of death. No. Lance loves the danger about Keith, loves that he’s a black widow and puts up the moves of the Marvel character, using his shorter stature to his advantage. Just thinking of Keith fighting him makes him hard and—

Keith switches their places suddenly, using his heavier mass to his advantage. Lance is in a heap of his own limbs, fingers wet as he stares to Keith, skin pale and porcelain, hair falling in pretty strands all over his shoulders, lips kiss-swollen and the same delicious pink as his nipples. “Little boy,” Keith calls in a sing-song voice, as if mocking and Lance gasp, cock twitching against his stomach. He ruts up against him, feeling how obscenely wet Keith is. There’s a trickle of milk on his chest.

Lance rises to lick it, lips sealing around that pink nub to drink as Keith rubs his cunt over the length of his cock, chuckling at his eagerness. “What a good boy,” he breathes, threading his fingers in his hair. He picks his length to bring it inside him, so tight and hot Lance sobs around him. Keith wipes the milk from his chin tenderly, cradling his head against his chest. “Such a good boy for mommy. C’mon… drink up. You’re being so good.”

Mommy.

“Maybe I’ll fuck you when you’re done drinking, mmh? Be a good boy.”

Lance feels shame as he comes without warning, belly tightening at the word, repeating it in a whine. Yes, yes Mommy, he’ll be good, he’ll keep be—

Lance almost chokes on the milk – he does, only, it’s not on milk his throat caught around, but his own dry trachea. His underwear is wet with his own cum, the pillow his face is buried in soaked in sweat. Oh. Lance feels like a teenager again. He’s old enough to drink and yet, here he is, soiling his boxers over a stupid wet dream. The thought of Keith’s amused smirk and words, still – mommy –, makes him harden again.

Lance bites his lower lip. It’s been happening ever since Shiro’s his own age again. Lance isn’t sure why the wet dreams are so consistent since then but… he swallows, closes his eyes. The cum makes a good lubricant and Lance slides a finger down. If he recalled his Alpha friends’ banters about Omegas, he remembers even more their idea of how low an Alpha or Beta would be to let an Omega take them but Lance whimpers again as he imagines it.

Lance knows he’s flexible enough to drink while Keith fucks him.

An embarrassing moan leaves him, just as his finger slips inside.

 

 

 

 

Things are, once again, awkward.

Shiro’s been told everything that happened. Of course, he doesn’t remember any of it but now, Keith avoiding his affection somewhat makes sense. Pidge seemed very much amused to recount in detail about what a good Omega mommy Keith was, especially around Lance. Shiro didn’t even want to imagine the implications of that.

Thinking that he drank from his lover is something he can rationalize easily. An infant would have died without the milk. The smell is sweet for his enhanced nose, especially when he smells… it smells like him, but there’s a different tone to it, sweeter, softer. Younger. Knowing his scent as a child is a very odd experience and it’s laced with Keith’s. It makes Shiro’s protective instincts flare up as if Keith was caring for their whelp, as if he was still weak from the birth. Everything about his mate shows he’s as strong as ever, still.

Fighting your instincts is hard.

Even more when these instincts have changed somewhat. Shiro feels a whole other kind of attraction to Keith now, and it’s one of safety. Shiro can’t remember the last time something made him feel safe. Even the thick hull of the Castle-Ship doesn’t stop him from sometimes getting terribly anxious about the vastness of space. Even Keith’s soothing smell didn’t chase his nightmares. Tiny rooms make his blood turn to ice and if the door is closed he’ll feel trapped, big rooms make him look to every corner as if a monster will come from behind.

Now, Keith’s smell makes him feel illogically safe. As if his arms would chase a monster, make him safe… Shiro is drawn to him, even more than before. It’s a confusing feeling. He’s always known Keith would have his back, always wanted to return the feeling, even more now that they are mates.

He’s usually always alert of any dangers, always looking for wherever one might come out of. Now, in Keith’s presence, in the castle… it’s embarrassingly easy for him to forget his surroundings. Pidge mocked him for getting surprised at her walking behind him when he had been cuddling with Keith. His mate’s reaction had been even more peculiar – he had wrapped his arms around him, glared like Pidge had done something offensive.

Things have changed in subtle but important ways. Shiro isn’t so sure of how to deal with them. It’s nothing for the worse, still – Shiro is glad that he’s relaxing easier now. It just feels weird to have it all happen to suddenly, perhaps…

Shiro almost doesn’t want to even think it. He’s mated with Keith – it shouldn’t feel so odd, but maybe he has imprinted on him? While he was a child? It would make sense. It makes too much sense. It would explain why his views of Keith are unchanged, logical, with the emotions of an adult and yet… there’s something softer there, instinctual. Something that just lets him close his eyes, entirely trusting, even more than before, that Keith will protect him.

Shiro hasn’t slept as well in years as when he does when he has his head on Keith’s chest. So he spends most of his free time on it, as soon as Keith allows him to. They’ve fallen into a lovely routine of naps and cuddling, one they had before, but now, there’s a little change: Shiro prefers to lie onto Keith rather than to be pressed against his back, to protectively trap him in-between the back of the couch and his own body. Keith used to huff at it, thinking his mate was cute, even if Keith knows how to protect himself. Shiro does too, of course, but he just can’t quite help himself. There’s just some moments where he has to let his Alpha side take over, just a little.

And better in these inoffensive moments than others, Shiro thinks. Keith must agree because he lets him, always, with only a playful little grunt of annoyance.

Now, however… Shiro thinks that Keith is just too comfortable like this. He smells sweet and his warmth almost penetrate him. Shiro would simply stay there forever, his ear pressed to his lover’s chest to listen to the rhythm of his heartbeat. Keith’s fingers run through his hair – he could just purr from bliss, accepting the once foreign idea that his lover makes him feel safe and comfortable. He’s the Alpha – he should make Keith feel like this.

But it’s not the contrary. Not quite – it’s a mutual feeling, trust in each others.

Shiro moves a little as he’s dozing off, causing Keith to let out a pained groan.

“You alright?” Shiro asks, lifting a hand to rub the sleep out of his face.

Keith looks annoyed more than pained, looking away from him, as if he doesn’t dare to say what the problem is.

“Yeah. Sorry. S’just that… your head pushed on my… my chest and uh… it’s sensitive because… I’ve been full.”

It takes Shiro a moment to understand what he means by full before the image of a child pressed to Keith comes back to him. Feeling arousal course like feathers through his spine at the idea of himself nursing from Keith is odd but the concept is more important. Keith, fertile and beautiful, protectively holding an Alpha child to his breast for it to feed. An Alpha child, something any sire would yearn to have.

Shiro shudders. He wants that. He hopes Keith can give him that, someday.

“Do you know how to…” Shiro starts, hesitating. The question hangs between them.

Keith bites his lower lip. Shiro moves to face him, body still covering him.

“No,” he admits, playing with his own hands, as if ashamed to know so little about his own body. As if he should have known this. It’s not like Keith has anybody he can ask.

But Shiro had a younger brother when he was old enough to remember everything – Ryou has Keith’s age, a little younger even, by only two years – and he knows his mother complained about the pain. It was a weird memory to think of, but upon seeing a breast pump in grocery bags, Shiro had picked it up and asked what it was. When Misuzu had told him what it was, Shiro distinctly remembered dropping it like it was something disgusting.

“Do you want me to help you?” Shiro tries, carefully, running a finger under Keith’s tee-shirt. The boy gasps, cheeks becoming a little red. Of course he knows what he means.

Shiro drank from his tits just days ago but he can’t remember the taste. There’s curiosity but the need to make sure his boyfriend is comfortable, too. Arousal, of course. Some of it starts to come out of Keith as it starts to seep into his system, filling his nose. Surely he’s thinking of the same thing. Shiro’s lips, this time big and soft, all over his chest…

Keith hesitates, as if they shouldn’t, “I… do you know how to?”

Shiro smirks, that smug little one Keith loves, that makes his stomach pull pleasantly.

“Don’t we all?” he asks, nuzzling his jaw, kissing it softly. There’s another little breath. “Please? I want to help.” It’s not all selfish, really – Shiro wouldn’t want to leave Keith in pain.

Keith seems to weight it for a moment, staring at him for a few seconds, biting his lower lip... He pulls his shirt up then, just enough to reveal himself, tits full and aching, nipples a dolorous shade of dark pink. Shiro licks his lips, kissing his mate’s nose again before crawling down. Keith is attractive, a far cry from the canons of beauty asked from Omegas, with his lithe muscles, but Shiro wouldn’t want anyone else as much as he wants Keith.

“Fuck,” he murmurs, mouth watering as he leans down.

He wraps his lips around one, tentatively sucking at first. It doesn’t seem to work much – he tries pushing a little with his closest hand, thumb and index laid apart to gently push, like he’s seen his brothers do with his fists when he was younger. It feels… odd and intimate more than arousing, suddenly.

“A… a little harder,” Keith says, sounding shy – a rarity for him. Keith is always upfront, always honest. Shiro would look up but he wouldn’t want to show the deep redness of his cheeks, too. Nevertheless he follows the instructions, sucking harder, trying again until a flow of rich, creamy milk fills his mouth. It surprises him enough to let out a noise, lips unsealing enough to let a trickle go.

He swallows. It’s hot and sweet. It feels different from dairy sold in supermarket, doesn’t taste quite like anything he was expecting. Maybe Keith has a sweet tooth he doesn’t know about? Or is it just the natural taste of it? It’s not bad. Just – unexpected. Shiro leans in again, feeling Keith’s expectant gaze on him. After a few minutes, he gets the trick again, covering Keith’s other breast with him palm.

They’re warmer than before. A little bigger since the last time he felt them. Keith is still flat, even by male Omegas standards but he can grab a little something now.

“So pretty,” Shiro murmurs, earning an indignant little huff as he returns to drinking. He chuckles, some milk leaving his mouth again.

Keith sighs, but there’s no real annoyance.

“You’re making a mess,” he comments, starting to thread his fingers in his hair.

The intimate setting, caresses and being pressed to Keith feels heavenly. A weight leaves his shoulders, leaving his head pleasantly empty. Now, there’s only Keith’s taste, Keith’s scent, Keith’s touch… he feels like he’s taken a Valium, body unwound, eyes closed.

Another smell penetrates their bubble eventually, arousal. His own and Keith. He’s so relaxed he didn’t even notice he was half-hard before now but Keith has a wet patch on his pants. The smell comes to him and Shiro presses his free hand down, pressing his fingers to Keith’s clothed slit, earning a shuddering moan. Shiro’s hair rises at the sound, like he’s listening to a beautiful opera.

He pulls away from the now empty tit, nipple now red from the suckling. He licks his lips, staring at Keith’s opened and just as comfortable body under his, legs spread around his hips. Shiro lies over him again, pressing his hardening, still clothed crotch against Keith’s soaked clothes, rubbing until his pants are too tight. His lover moans in pleasure, hooking his legs behind his.

Shiro realizes they’re in the living room, anybody could walk in, but his need growls and grows inside of him. It’s been so long since he had Keith and he wants him, wants to feel his lover’s damp cunt around him.

He’s about to make sure Keith wants it as much as he wants when the young man yanks his pants down, freeing his thick and leaking cock, stroking it with one hand as he looks at him. No need to ask, Shiro thinks, pulling Keith’s clothes away. He loves the idea of Keith naked against him when he’s still dressed. It feels powerful somehow and Keith lets no one but him in power – it makes it special, each time.

It happens just this way, the shirt leaves first, the boots, the jeans… Keith looks beautiful, inky hair across his pale shoulders, lean muscles and still delicate in the oddest way, cock hard against his belly, leaking as much as his pussy. The smell gets to his brain. Shiro pushes a finger in, coming back with an obscene amount of slick all over it, a chain breaking and attaching to Keith’s thigh. Shiro licks it. Salty, in contrast to the still sugary taste in his mouth.

“You taste so good,” Shiro croons, pulling Keith’s hips closer, cock rubbing over the folds of his entrance as his lips find his other breast.

“Fuck,” is the only thing Keith can answer, pushing back against him. Shiro groans into the plump flesh of his tit, possessively wrapping a glove-clad hand around his waist. Keith mimics him, one hand over the back of his head, the other over his neck.

The milk and wetness over his hardness is overwhelming. His brain shuts down for lower functions, needing to thrust, to bite, to suck. He grips himself into his fist, guiding his cock into the welcoming little hole, so wet it froths around his prick. His flesh hand turns around, to feel Keith’s skin over his fingertips. Shiro realizes too late he should have taken the glove off, to be able to touch more.

The thought of just helping with the ache subsides. Even just drinking morphs into playful sucks, letting the milk pour back onto Keith’s skin. He’s leaking with arousal now, body rock with adorable hiccups as Shiro thrusts in. So beautiful, Shiro thinks, hips meeting his lover’s thighs in languid movements. Keith’s eyes are closed tight, his hand balls into his hair.

“Shiro,” he moans, voice rising in a crescendo in the middle of the world, into higher-pitched little keens, back arched to be closer to the prick that bring him so much bliss. He wraps his hand around his own cock, the head flushed a handsome red, thumbs at the head. Shiro wants to take it into his mouth, to make Keith come with it, too.

Now that the milk is gone, Shiro pulls away to crawl down, tearing a cry of annoyance from Keith, who looks around, as if expecting someone to be there. His hair is a mess, his face still red and out of breath. So cute. Shiro pushes him back down, stroking him with his hand before taking him into his mouth. He feels like he doesn’t do this enough when Keith drops back down, both his hands going back to his scalp, grinding against his mouth.

His bionic fingers push inside, cool enough to make him hiss, but Keith seems happy at the amount of stimulation, biting the fleshy part of his thumb, breath laboured and muffles his moans as much as he can. When Shiro deepthroats him, Keith startles, thighs shaking with the building pleasure. It takes only a few more minutes for his fingers pushing against his sensitive nerves inside, his thumb playing with his clit and his head bobbing over his prick for Keith to come.

The younger man falls entirely boneless from the strength of his orgasm, panting as he tries to regain his breath. He keens a little as Shiro takes his fingers out, wiping his mouth as he swallows without even thinking about it. Keith looks so good in this moment that Shiro remembers his still weeping erection, aching from the lack of attention. With one last look up, Shiro pushes back inside. Keith grunts, over-sensitive from coming, but wraps his arms around his shoulders.

“Gentle,” he says, voice a little hoarse.

Shiro kisses the corner of his lips.

“Promise.”

It’s not like he wants to slam inside. It feels much better to go slowly, leaning his head against Keith. He watches, a little mesmerized, how his cock enters without any resistance, looking much too big to fit into something so small.

“Can I knot you?” Shiro asks, unsure if Keith would like to be so stretched out just after coming.

“Please,” his mate just says, unzipping his vest to feel his muscles through the skin-tight shirt he wears. He sounds eager – he missed it, Shiro guesses.

A few more thrusts later, Shiro pulls Keith tightly against him, head pressed into the crook of his shoulder. He grips Keith’s hips to make sure he’s as deep as possible as the knot starts growing, locking them together. Shiro lies back against Keith, covering his whole body with his own and kisses his neck and jaw happily.

“Don’t make a hickey on it again,” Keith warns, but starts to brush his hand across his back still.

Shiro groans, “T’was just one time.”

Keith sounds vexed, “I imagined the other two times, then.”

“Mmh. You did. Wild imagination that you have,” Shiro teases, pulling away to just look at him. “We’re pretty messy, right now. Guess we should hit the showers soon.”

“We’re in the living room.” Keith sounds a little livid. But… maybe the idea of being found like this isn’t so terrible to him. A little arousing, even.

“I think that they’ll know not to walk in. We were… a little loud.”

Keith laughs at that.

“A little.”

“Aren’t we always?” Shiro muses.

Keith rolls his eyes and keeps silence for a few minutes.

Shiro can’t help but be curious now, pressing his forehead to Keith’s jawline. “How did you feel? When I was baby. It must have been weird. It must still be weird.”

“Do you think it is?”

Shiro shrugs. Frankly? He doesn’t even remember anything of it. He remembers their last fight and slipping off during it and then… he woke up, in the cockpit’s chair, met with Keith’s panicked eyes when he saw him again. Everyone was looking for him and when it became evident he had been gone for weeks and to know something as outlandish as him losing most years of his life and turning into a child again was just… something absurd. He wasn’t sure he understood it too well.

“A little,” he admits.

But Keith had spent all these weeks making sure he was alright. Shiro wondered if he still saw him a little more as his kit to protect now, if only because of the smell. Since he now associated Keith with warmth and safety, maybe Shiro was something to protect for him. Even more than before. Keith had always risen up to his defence, brave and determined not to let anyone even say something mean about him.

“It’s pretty fucking weird.”

“It is,” Shiro decides with a laugh. “What did you think? It must have been hard for you.”

Keith is silent for a moment, drumming his fingers along a few spots along his back, on one of the rare scars that doesn’t look like it’s coming from a whip. Keith always says it’s the proof he’s a great warrior, that only so few hits have been able to touch his biggest weak spot.

“I missed you,” the Omega says simply. “I missed you and you were right there.”

There’s a thousand little things in just that little sentence. Shiro can tell. He kisses his mate softly, bringing him a little closer. Keith’s voice got a little tight, a little too vulnerable. It seems to annoy him, as if Shiro would judge for that moment of weakness. It’s normal that he was upset, even more with the responsibility of caring for a changed mate thrust upon him.

“Thank you for taking care of me. You were very good.”

Keith laughs, “It didn’t feel like it.”

“You give yourself too little credit, Mama. See, you raised me and I turned out just fine.”

Keith stares at him for an eternity before Shiro breaks into laughter. With a cry of rage, Keith hits the top of his head.

“That’s fucking gross, Takashi! Don’t fucking say that! Gross!”

Shiro just keeps laughing, lacing his fingers with Keith’s with a bright smile, “Come on, don’t be like that. It’s a joke. Don’t kinkshame me.”

“I can’t believe Takashi Shirogane has a mommy kink,” Keith says in a sulky tone. “I can’t believe you said that.”

“I love you, mommy,” Shiro playfully says, nudging the younger man’s nose with his own.

Keith groans again.

“I don’t know why I agree to be mated with you. You make the worst jokes.”

“And you signed up for a lifetime of this. I hope you’re ready for it.”

And if Keith’s little smirk is any indication, he must be.