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Keith sees the agitation in the way Shiro holds himself. He sees how Shiro's rigid, more reserved, how his anger flares a little more than normal and the sharp edge to his orders. They're in the tail end of what is possibly one of the most thoroughly exasperating missions they’ve run in a while; Keith's pretty sure that if he looks in the mirror, he'll see some of the same irritation reflected back.

They’re on a planet with whom they’re trying to nurture a newly found alliance. It’s rich with resources, but has been having a rough time dealing with a group of eldritch horrors that have decided to make the land around its biggest city their new home.

The leaders have been demanding and, though Allura diplomatically avoids saying it, very ungrateful. As the head of Voltron, Shiro’s been feeling the brunt of the mission, especially when the council of the royal family grills him on whether he thinks his team is really giving it their all. Keith’s right there beside him, though he snaps a lot easier than Shiro does. It sets off another chain of questioning about where exactly Keith learned his manners from, and how they hope that it’s not reflective of the entirety of their team.

They both need to cut loose. Keith just needs to find a way.



 The answer comes to him when Shiro’s barking orders out to the paladins as a giant lamprey-like creature roars up towards them. There’s an edge to everyone’s voice, but Keith’s focused on Shiro’s. It glints like a knife, laced with tenfold the displeasure everyone else has been feeling.

“Is everyone clear?” Shiro asks, and everyone replies with a resounding “Yes!” except for one.

“Keith?” Shiro asks over the comms, and Keith makes a non-committal noise.

Keith can see an opening, and he knows he’s got just enough time to inform the team of his plans. They haven’t formed Voltron yet and if he acts quick enough, they won’t need to.

“Sure thing,” Keith drawls out before proceeding to completely disobey orders.



Keith’s grinning like an idiot when he steps out of his slime and guts-covered lion. The rest of the team’s arrived in the hangar as well, albeit with relatively cleaner lions. Flying down the throat of an unknown beast and exploding out like a bad action movie hero is perhaps not the finest moment of Keith’s life, but it’s definitely been one of the more fun ones.

“That was so disgusting,” Hunk groans as they walk back to the control room, still looking green around the gills.Shiro looks minorly displeased, and Keith takes some pride in it.

“Next time,” Shiro starts from behind him, voice exasperated. “At least tell us before you go flying headfirst into an alien’s mouth.”

Keith looks over his shoulder, and cocks an eyebrow.

“Understood,” He says in a voice that says he’ll do it again in a heartbeat. “ Sir .”

“I’m serious,” Shiro says, and Keith shrugs and falls  back with Shiro as everyone else chatters about who had the coolest non-Keith kill. “Keith.”

“Yes?” Keith asks innocently, and Shiro gives him a flat look. “What is it?”

“We’re here to back you up,” Shiro replies. “Just give us a heads up next time.”

“I’m sorry,” Keith says in a low voice. “Shouldn’t have misbehaved, sir.”

Shiro stops for a moment and splutters a bit. Keith’s about to grin because he thinks he’s got him, but Shiro simply shakes his head and hurries past Keith.  Keith knows he needs to work him up more, but he’s determined.



Keith doesn’t feel like he’s inherently seductive. He’s not really a flirt like Lance; he’s not instantly likeable like Hunk, and he doesn’t have an inherently charming personality like Allura and Pidge. He’s definitely not got the glamour of Coran.

What he does have is a deep level of comfort with Shiro, enough that he can try and play him a little when he gets an opportunity to do so.

They take dinner with the royal family again, and Keith takes his usual place beside Shiro. He watches Shiro put on as much of a diplomatic air as possible, while the third in line to the throne badgers Shiro about whether or not they can take down the next creature with less damage to the greenery around them.

Shiro tries to explain that they try to lead the monsters away from the cities and towards the unoccupied swathes of land to the best of their abilities, and that they can’t really control what trees get taken down when a giant toothy beast throws them as hard as it can. Keith winces as they bring up his theatrical take down from earlier in the day, but immediately reverts back to annoyance as they use it as an example of how Voltron’s messy . Thankfully, Allura manages to divert the topic before any of the paladins snap.

Keith refocuses on Shiro; more importantly, he focuses on winding Shiro up in a special way. They haven’t been able to do anything for the past few days because of the mental toll this mission has had on them, but Keith knows that if he pushes Shiro just enough, he’ll finally break and use Keith the way Keith wants to be used. They’ve played this game before, and it’s worked out well for all parties involved, so Keith really doesn’t see why it shouldn’t in this situation either.

The entire time Shiro talks to Keith, he responds with a simple “yes sir”, “no sir”, or “of course sir” before turning away. Everyone else sees it as normal, as a way for Keith to make up for directly diverting off from Shiro’s orders earlier today; if they don’t, they’re forcing themselves to. Shiro’s eyebrow twitches, because he knows Keith only calls him sir when he’s looking to do something a little reckless.

Under the table, Keith’s calf is pressed in a firm line against Shiro’s. He tries to shift so he can hook his ankle around Shiro’s, but Shiro anticipates and moves every time.

Keith ,” Shiro hisses under his breath, and Keith gives him an innocent smile.

“Yes sir?” He asks, loud enough for Pidge to perk up visibly from where she sits on Shiro’s other side.

Shiro opens his mouth, then clamps it shut. Pidge rolls her eyes before going back to a heated discussion with a general, and Keith knocks his knee against Shiro’s, giving a little grin. Shiro looks like he’s holding the reins back on a positively murderous expression. Satisfied at that, Keith turns to talk to Hunk. While he does that, he drops a hand on Shiro’s thigh.

The muscle tenses underneath his hand, and Keith rubs his thumb in small circles. No one notices, but Keith can feel the heat start to radiate from Shiro. He doesn’t feel anything stop him though, so he keeps his hand planted as he discusses with Hunk as to how exactly he knew his plan today would work.

“I figured it’s common sense,” Keith shrugs, and the hand on Shiro’s thigh slides inwards. He goes far enough that he can brush the seat of the chair, and can feel Shiro twitch. Then he leans his thigh in to Keith’s palm slightly, and Keith has to try his best not to crow.

“How so?” Hunk frowns. “We didn’t even know the biological makeup of the thing. What if it was armoured from the inside?”

Keith gives Hunk a blank look while shifting his hand up Shiro’s thigh. He’s fully looking at Hunk now, ignoring Shiro’s small cough.

“Why would it be armoured from the inside?” Keith asks, as he starts circling his thumb again.

“In case some idiot decides to fly down its throat,” Hunk replies. “Hey man, are you okay?”

Hunk tilts his chin and Keith looks back at Shiro with utmost concern. He seems relatively composed, but the tips of his ears are pink, and he’s been clearing his throat repeatedly now. Keith rubs his thigh consolingly, and he feels thick fingers encircle his wrist.

“I’m fine,” Shiro says, delivering a tight warning squeeze to Keith’s wrist. “Something just went down the wrong way.”

Hunk shrugs, gets distracted when Lance makes a face at him from across the table, and Keith finally apologizes.

“Sorry,” He says insincerely, letting Shiro remove his hand for him. “Didn’t mean to.”

“It’s fine,” Shiro says, and Keith’s a little disappointed at how fast his flush disappears. There’s still something to the way Shiro sets his jaw, so it’s not a lost cause for Keith yet.

When they are dismissed from dinner, Shiro herds Keith out of the hall with a hand on his back. It seems normal enough, but Keith can feel more pressure than usual.

It’s not till the group splits for the night, everyone retiring to their own rooms in the castle-ship, that Shiro decides to reciprocate.

Keith’s walking down the hall to their room, and notices Shiro’s not beside him anymore when he gets a step forward and there’s no longer an insistent hand on his back. Keith’s got sharp perception, but Shiro still manages to grab his arm and twist it before he can turn around. In a split second, Keith’s tasting the wall, and the weight of Shiro against his back makes him smile.

“Hey,” Shiro says easily, and Keith grunts in return. Shiro’s other arm has made its way across Keith’s neck, pinning him there and leaving him no room to move and talk. “How’s your evening been?”

Keith gives a muffled reply, trying not to sound too pleased with himself.

“Good, I’m glad,” Shiro says, voice still light. The pressure off Keith’s neck eases off, and he tilts his head back to gasp in some air. Shiro flips him over by the shoulder, keeping his wrists trapped behind him with one hand, and Keith tries not to look too happy with how dark Shiro’s eyes have gotten.

Shiro’s got him painlessly pinned in a manner that Keith can count at least three different ways to escape from, if he wants to stop playing the game. He very decidedly doesn’t.

“Is everything okay, sir?” Keith asks, and Shiro smiles.

“Of course,” He says, and runs his free hand through Keith’s hair. “Why wouldn’t it be? You were on your best behaviour.”

Shiro’s words are dripping with sarcasm, because they both know Keith was anything but.

“I try my best,” Keith says and feel Shiro twist his fingers in his hair, the metal starting to warm up as it brushes his scalp. Shiro hums, looking at Keith with great intent.

“Reward?” He asks, and Keith nods furiously. It’s what he’s been jockeying for all evening. “Okay. Kiss me.”

It’s a surprisingly simple request and Keith’s more than happy to oblige. He leans in, closing his eyes and—

The hand in his hair tightens, pulls, stopping him from going any further. Keith tries to move his head, but Shiro keeps him firmly in place. His eyes shoot open, and Shiro’s giving him a falsely encouraging look.

“Keith,” He repeats sweetly. “Kiss me.”

Keith squirms and strains against Shiro’s hold again, but it doesn’t give.

“That’s an order,” Shiro’s voice has started to take on the firmness that Keith’s been pressing for. “Follow it.”

There’s absolutely no give, and no way for Keith  to lean forward and kiss Shiro.  Shiro leans in just barely, and it makes it more frustrating for Keith because he’s still unable to reach him. It’s rapidly becoming clear to him what Shiro wants, and the thought of it makes Keith twitch in the best way.

“I can’t,” He says, and for added measure, tacks on a “Sir.”

Shiro presses a kiss to the corner of Keith’s mouth and as soon as Keith tries to chase it, Shiro tugs him back by his hair again.

“You were pretending to be so good for me,” He murmured. “Why stop now?”

Keith tries not to preen, not to spit out something corny like how he needs Shiro to punish him right now, like how he needs Shiro to fuck out his frustrations from this entire mission. Instead, he knits his eyebrows and tries to look as innocent as possible.

“I’m trying my best, sir,” Keith says, dropping his voice into something more subordinate. The need in his voice is genuine, and he tries one more time to kiss him, letting desperation and eagerness start to show themselves on his face.

It works, because Shiro guides Keith by his hair into a biting kiss. Shiro pushes in, and Keith basks in how hungry he feels against his mouth.  A particularly painful tug to his hair causes Keith to gasp involuntarily, and Shiro uses it as an opportunity to slide their tongues together. Keith can barely let out a sound and Shiro’s barely giving him an inch.

It’s still not quite what he wants from Shiro though. Making out in the halls is no guarantee that Shiro’s going to allow himself to lose control once they’re safe behind closed doors. So when Shiro’s bottom lip finds its way between Keith’s teeth, he bites down. Shiro immediately breaks them off, and Keith barely surpresses a noise of discontent.

“Tell me,” Shiro asks and Keith watches, mesmerized, as his tongue darts out to swipe over where Keith had bitten him. “What do you want from me?”

“I want you,” Keith says easily but Shiro shakes his head.

“You have to be more specific than that,” Shiro says, as if Keith doesn’t know that Shiro likes hearing Keith beg for him. Keith’s just on this side of impatient though, so he decides to cut to the chase.

“I want you to fuck me,” He says, and the hand around his wrists tightens. “I want to feel it for days.”

“Yeah?” Shiro leans back, raising an eyebrow. “You think you deserve that?”

“I think you deserve it,” Keith grins, raising his chin to bare his neck in an invitation.

Shiro edges forward, like he’s contemplating it, but Keith can see the moment a different idea flits across his mind. He finds himself on the receiving end of a kiss again, and he happily responds with an equal amount of enthusiasm. His wrists get pressed into his back, and Keith waits to get lifted, has the barest amount of self control preventing him from outright climbing Shiro.

Shiro presses sloppy kisses along his neck and Keith’s hands itch to touch. He wriggles his hands, trying to get Shiro to let him go.

He succeeds, but loses Shiro in the process. Keith finds himself losing balance as he’s suddenly not pinned to the wall anymore. Shiro’s taken a step back and steadies him by his arms as Keith regains his footing and shoots Shiro a puzzled look. Shiro brushes off invisible dust from his shoulders, straightens out his collar and pats down his hair. Keith frowns at this grooming, especially because Shiro’s reverted back to a friendly but neutral expression.

“What?” He asks, and Shiro gives him a wicked grin.



Keith doesn’t expect Shiro to crack within the first twenty four hours.

They run physical training drills all day, and Keith shoots suggestive lines at Shiro, only for Shiro to deflect them with a roll of his eyes. Pidge pointedly ignores them while Hunk and Lance look like they want to die each time. To Keith, that’s just an added bonus.

Despite Shiro making it known that he intends to ignore Keith if he continues acting this way, he still allows Keith to corner him in another secluded hallway of the castleship after they’ve had a team meeting. Shiro happily obliges in kissing Keith eagerly. But when Keith pulls away and pins Shiro’s wrists against the walls, Shiro smiles and shakes his head.

“Six more days,” Shiro says, which Keith feels is an unnecessarily long amount of time. It’s how long Shiro’s going to be holding out from him, how long Keith’s not allowed to get off.  It’s Shiro’s way of repaying Keith for his antics at dinner, and Keith feels the punishment is unfairly disproportionate to the crime.

He had found the rules murky initially and had told Shiro as much. Shiro had then pressed him into the mattress, had kissed him senseless and had grinded their hips together until Keith was a mess. Right before Keith tipped over the edge, Shiro had reached between them and choked him off.

“Do you understand it now?” He had asked as Keith stared up desperately at him.

No amount of begging and pleading had made Shiro change his mind, and when Keith had tried to jerk himself off, he discovered that he wasn’t allowed to do that either.

That was yesterday though. Keith’s not too worried. He doesn’t expect it to last past today because the amount of time Shiro’s specified ‒ a week counting yesterday   ‒ is not something that’s possible for either of them to do on purpose. It’s an exercise in futility, but Keith’s willing to entertain it for the short amount of time it will last.

Keith lets go and raises his palms in front of him.

“Right,” he says with a grin. “Got it.”

Shiro gives a fake annoyed expression that Keith wipes off with another kiss, one that he continues when they make it to their bed for the night. He’s not too miffed at Shiro pushing him off and pulling a blanket over them while gently telling Keith off because he expects it. It’s fine, he thinks, because he’s sure Shiro will be easy to crack by the end of tomorrow.



The next night, Keith finds Shiro on the training deck. It’s not surprising, and Keith is sure that Shiro’s there for the same reason he is; they’ve had another frustrating day that was punctuated by a smaller, but no less vicious horde of aliens try and attack the city. Keith’s not quite sure where this sudden influx of horrors are coming from, but he has a faint idea it has to do with the fact that city officials are parading around the fact that Voltron is in town.

While the skirmish wasn’t too bad, it had left the team feeling as chagrined as ever. Lance and Pidge had taken to seeing what piece of outdated technology could blow up bigger, while Hunk programmed one of the cooking bots in the kitchen to slap unsuspecting visitors with a spatula. The only unsuspecting visitor it had gotten was Keith, who proceeded to throw it against the wall. Hunk told him he didn’t need to apologize, but had also suggested he go try out the same move with the gladiator on the training deck instead.

Keith slinks into the room quietly, takes his place beside one of the walls jutting out. He knows Shiro senses his presence even if he’s too busy to acknowledge it. Shiro looks determined to exhaust all his aggravation out from the day.

Keith watches as the gladiator takes a swipe at Shiro, missing by a mile as Shiro ducks and kicks legs. Shiro’s unarmed, but the gladiator has a bo staff that it’s using to deliver blow after blow.

He observes for a few more minutes, leaning against the wall in silence. Watching Shiro duck and weave and strain his muscles as he fights against the robot makes Keith’s mouth run dry. Near the end, Shiro’s right arm glows purple and he uses it to absolutely pummel the gladiator. Keith feels a little light headed.

The program completes, and the slightly dented bot stands straight at attention as Shiro withdraws, panting. His tank top is drenched and his muscles glisten under the harsh light of the training deck, and from the look on his face, Keith’s pretty sure he can convince Shiro to forget about his stupid rule.

“Passable,” the gladiator says before the floor opens and it falls through the platform. Keith takes this as a cue to emerge from the shadows.

“Tired?” He asks, as Shiro lifts his tank to wipe at his face. Keith’s eyes are immediately drawn to his exposed v-line, and feels that too much time has passed since he’s gotten a chance to bite it.

“Why?” Shiro asks, and Keith can still feel his earlier irritation from the day seep through. “Wanna go a round?”

Keith grins, because there’s a challenging undercurrent to Shiro’s voice that only really shows up when he’s really agitated. When he gets like that and they fight, Keith can expect to get laid out thoroughly by Shiro afterwards, sometimes to the point where he forgets his own name.

“You look tired,” Keith says, rotating his shoulders and bending his hands back, stretching his wrists. “Maybe we should go to bed instead.”

Shiro scoffs, and thumps Keith on the back as he goes to get water. When he comes back, Keith’s shucked his jacket and is waiting, ready.

Before, in the Garrison, Shiro had refused to let any of their sparring matches last more than two minutes. Keith had always eaten dirt within the first thirty seconds. Keith had been indignant about it at first, but then he realized the only way to make them last longer was if he got better.

Now, they fight a little looser, a little more playful. They have the gladiators for when they really want to train, and five other people to practice with. So with each other, they’ve made it into a game, and everyone knows to clear the room when they decide to face off.

They take their starting stances, and Keith decides to make the first move.

He goes in for a lazy punch, which Shiro deflects easily before returning one of his own. Keith lets his sternum catch it, giving an over-dramatic yelp as it lands.

“Looks like you’ve defeated me,” Keith teases and Shiro snorts.

“Try harder,” Shiro says, and Keith’s about to ask what he means when he finds a kick heading straight towards his face. He parries it with his forearm just in time, and finds a small flaw in Shiro's form. He pushes off, sending Shiro stumbling, and sees a smile tug at the corners of his mouth.

“Try harder,” Keith mimics as Shiro approaches him again. He then finds himself flat on his back in under ten seconds. Shiro grins down at him from where he’s got him pinned to the ground, trapping Keith’s hands under his back and straddling his hips.

“Maybe with a little more motivation,” Shiro’s fully grinning now, much to Keith’s satisfaction. Part of Keith wants to rise to the occasion, but most of him is ready for Shiro to have his filthy, filthy way with him in the training deck. He listens to the former because as tiring as the day has been, Keith still has some pent up energy he needs to let out.

They fight for a good twenty minutes, splitting their time between showboating and actually fighting. They get a couple of good hits on each other, and Keith manages to take down Shiro with a manoeuvre he hasn’t been able to use in a while.

“You’re slipping,” Keith teases, squeezing his thighs. They’re wrapped around Shiro’s neck, and his knees are planted on the ground. Shiro’s on his back and clawing at Keith to get back control, but Keith holds steady. Keith had leapt and used his legs, and as soon as they landed on the ground, he had used his momentum to roll over and pin Shiro. Shiro looks like he’s going to retort and Keith’s at the ready with something undoubtedly witty.

Instead, Shiro’s body goes lax. Keith loosens his hold because he assumes Shiro’s accepted his defeat and they’re going to reset, but Shiro turns his head so he’s pressed up against Keith’s inner thigh. Keith furrows his brow as, instead of feeling out his next move, Shiro decides to press a kiss against Keith’s thigh. It sends sparks along Keith’s skin through his sweatpants.

Shiro lifts his head and plants another one higher up. Keith squirms, and tries to shift. Shiro grabs the cloth between his teeth and holds Keith in place. The hands that were trying to throw him off, slide under his shirt and wrap themselves around his hips.

“Shiro-“ he starts, but he’s cut off when Shiro places a more biting kiss near the crook of his thigh.

Shiro’s mouthing at the fabric now, and Keith can feel his own control start to slip. He can’t control the short stutter his hips give and Keith needs Shiro to turn his head just a little and start paying proper attention to him. The mood's rapidly changing, but—

But, there’s a reason Keith never fully lets his guard down.

Shiro takes Keith’s pliant body and flips them over. Keith, who sort of saw this coming despite being lost in the moment, manages to roll out from under Shiro. However Shiro traps him mid roll, and forces his shoulder over so that his face presses against the floor. Keith grunts, and feels a knee to his back.

“No more than two minutes, cadet,” Shiro admonishes playfully as Keith struggles against his hold. He lets him go, and Keith rolls onto his back.

Shiro extends a friendly hand out to help Keith up, and Keith reaches for it. As soon as he’s up, Shiro spins him into a chokehold, but Keith’s on his toes this time. He yanks Shiro’s arm and manages to break out of the hold, and uses all his energy to send them barrelling against a wall. Shiro’s back hits it with a hard thud that Keith might have felt bad about if it wasn’t for Shiro looking at him with a shit eating grin.

They go for a few more minutes, and Keith’s satisfied at how much more relaxed Shiro looks. He’s let Shiro throw him around somewhat more than normal, and that’s only because he can feel the ghost of Shiro’s mouth along his inner thighs.  It makes Keith a little weak, a little more eager to be on the receiving end of whatever Shiro is dishing out.

Keith’s getting tired though, and he wants both a shower and Shiro, preferably simultaneously. They’re both spun out of pure energy, so Keith has to be the one to take initiative. He starts trapping Shiro more, but Shiro manages to break free each time.

Shiro finally gets it the fourth time Keith pins his arms together, and the next time Shiro charges him, he does it with significantly lesser finesse.

It’s a complete rookie movie, but Keith feels like Shiro’s handing himself over on a plate. He knows Shiro likes to feel his strength as much as Keith likes to feel Shiro’s, and both of them secretly give way to the other sometimes, just to enjoy the feeling of being manhandled.

Keith grabs Shiro’s wrist and steps back, twisting and coercing him to the ground. Shiro lands on his side, but Keith’s quick to drop down a knee into Shiro’s ribs, pulling on his arm till he can push him fully onto his stomach. Shiro doesn’t even pretend to struggle against Keith’s pin.

“Yield,” Keith commands and a large smile unfurls across Shiro’s face as he twists to look up at Keith. He gives one last half hearted attempt to move, but Keith makes sure he’s got Shiro pinned down completely.

“I yield,” Shiro says, and Keith lets go of him. Shiro rolls onto his back and Keith plops down on him, earning an oof! from Shiro. Shiro laughs, and Keith pretends it’s not because he’s planting his entire weight on Shiro’s chest and that’s the only way he can breathe. Shiro grabs his hips and shifts him down and gasps a little for air.

Keith takes a quick look around, including a passing glance to the observation room, before leaning in to press a kiss to the corner of Shiro’s mouth. Shiro turns his head so that he can kiss Keith properly, and Keith hums happily, the earlier annoyance of the day finally fully ebbed away.

“What’s my reward?” Keith asks when they break apart, and Shiro raises an eyebrow.

“What reward?” He asks, before jerking his hips up, shoving and sending a squawking Keith tumbling off face first. Shiro laughs as he gets up. Keith swats his helping hand away, and shuts him out of sharing a shower with him.



An hour and a half later, Keith’s trying his best not to look smug at the fact that Shiro’s already abandoned whatever abstinence rule he’s imposed upon Keith in favour of working out their remaining adrenaline. He’s returning a favour, on his knees at the foot of their bed; Keith can still taste him in his mouth, still feels the haunting ache in his jaw as he groans out Shiro’s name.

When Keith had gone down on him, Shiro had made him keep his hands behind his back if they weren’t on Shiro, and hadn’t allowed him to touch himself. Shiro held Keith down by his hair and had done his best to make sure Keith would feel the weight of Shiro in his mouth long after they were done. Keith’s so worked up now that he can barely control himself.

Shiro has one hand pinning down his hips and another rucking up his shirt as he flattens his tongue against the head. Keith feels himself involuntary shift, and the hand on him presses down harder. The one under his shirt moves to join Shiro’s mouth, and Keith bites back a moan.

Shiro briefly looks up at him before takes Keith down all the way, his nose pressing against Keith’s lower abdomen. He hollows his cheeks and hums, the vibrations sending a shiver up Keith’s spine, and it’s so, so much for Keith to handle. Shiro takes a deep inhale, and Keith’s teetering. He gives a warning tug to Shiro’s hair, and braces himself.

It never happens.

Shiro slides off him with a slick pop and the hand around his base squeezes, effectively cutting Keith off. Keith waits for it to start moving, but Shiro just looks intently at him, mouth red and glistening. Keith finds himself slowly coming down from the high as Shiro tightens his grip. Keith claws at his scalp for him to do something.

“Shit,” Keith swears. “Shiro, what‒”

“Not for a few more days,” Shiro says, giving a lopsided smile. “Remember what I said?”

“No,” Keith bites out because this is not happening to him.

Shiro leans up to kiss Keith gently, swallowing up all the frustrated sounds Keith’s making. Keith allows him to lick into his mouth a little before he pushes him away. Shiro reaches down to tug Keith’s sleeping pants back up.

“I was serious about it,” Shiro says, tucking Keith back in and Keith crosses his arms over his chest and gives him the most petulant look possible. “You have to wait.”

Keith tries his best to convince Shiro to change his mind, but Shiro simply shuffles the two of them till they’re under the covers. Keith tries to crawl up Shiro’s body and lay out lavishly on top of him, but it fails  to work. Shiro entertains Keith by kissing him thoroughly, and when he brings up his thigh in between Keith’s legs, Keith thinks he’s won. He’s wrong, because Shiro uses the opening as an opportunity to flip them over and Keith finds himself on his his side, facing away from Shiro.

“Patience,” Shiro murmurs as  he slings an arm across Keith, preventing him from moving any further. “We should sleep.”

Keith tries to kick at him, and when he twists to look over his shoulder, Shiro looks a little too pleased with himself. Keith turns away, and feels Shiro’s chest rumble against his back. He muffles a frustrated yell into the pillow, and Shiro laughs harder.

Chapter Text

The following day, Keith decides he’s going to ignore Shiro. Part of it is due to him still being pissed off from the night before and part of it is due to the fact that if he doesn’t pay attention to Shiro, he figures he won’t be overcome with the urge to climb him like an animal. It’s also so that Shiro sees the light and takes him to bed properly, after realizing that he too cannot go so long on purpose without Keith on him or in him.

It doesn’t work though, because they run a busy day, and Shiro doesn’t seem to notice when Keith ignores what he says. He’s too busy trying to shepherd one of the leaders with Allura into allowing Voltron to launch an offensive in the next couple of days, right before the next wave of monsters from the universe’s mystery bag of horrors are set to descend and wreak havoc. If Keith refuses or ignores him, he simply gives the task or question to someone else.

The team wants to hunt down the source of the monsters, because there’s no alien activity in the skies. They have to sit through a  torturous three hour long presentation as to why the council thinks thats a bad idea. Keith’s pretty sure this entire planet has been blissfully ignorant about escaping danger by the seat of their pants.

The worst is when Keith and Lance get delegated to what is essentially babysitting the crown princess’ friend’s sister’s kids, a task disguised as a teaching opportunity. The kids are annoying enough that even Lance looks like he’s going to burst a blood vessel, especially when one of them climbs on his head and starts wailing like a fog horn.

Keith mentally clocks out midway through, and almost cries when Pidge comes to rescue them. Lance actually does. Keith sort of wishes some sort of creature drops down on them so that they can fight instead of sit and argue and have their drills interrupted all day long.

By the end of the day, Keith also realizes that he has to get Shiro’s attention first before Keith can proceed ignore him. It’s hard to do during the day, since they are barely together from afternoon til dinner.

Keith figures that maybe he can rope him in when they finally manage to escape to their room. But Shiro can barely keep his eyes open when he lays in bed and presses a tired kiss to Keith’s forehead.  Keith forgets his scheme in favour of collecting Shiro into his arms and wrapping around him like a limpet. Shiro makes a pleased noise as Keith kisses him softly, digs his cold hands under Keith’s shirt to warm them up, and is out like a light within minutes.



In the middle of the night, Keith wakes to being gently nudged by Shiro.

“Can I?” Shiro whispers, looking up at Keith, and Keith nods. Shiro brushes his lips across Keith’s neck and pushes forward till Keith’s on his back, flattening out on him. Keith lets Shiro kiss him, slow and shallow and hazy with sleep, while he runs a lazy palm down Shiro’s side.

Keith tugs Shiro’s boxers down just enough to free him and feels Shiro lift a little. Shiro slides a hand in between them, but the touch never comes. Shiro only holds himself, and Keith lets out a small whine as he feels knuckles brush over his skin. It’s got no real heat behind it, and Keith lolls his head to the side so that Shiro can suck tiny kisses onto his jaw. Shiro moans softly as he starts to move his hand, but the hour is too odd for Keith to feel frustrated by it.

“I need to look at you,” Shiro whispers, and Keith wraps his hand around Shiro’s. Keith’s long stopped feeling self conscious about the way Shiro likes to trace him with his eyes, knowing that he stares back with as much naked want.  

Shiro’s hand feels large and sturdy under his, and Keith can feel a slow, thrumming desire start to build within him. He thinks about how would feel to have those fingers in him but he tamps the thought down, doubting there’s enough energy for it to go anywhere.

He urges Shiro to speed up because he enjoys the sound of Shiro’s panting getting heavier and heavier. Keith enjoys the way Shiro struggles to keep his eyes open throughout as he tries to focus on Keith. He enjoys the sounds Shiro makes when he comes, enjoys it when he pushes Keith’s shirt up and drips hot over his stomach, gently saying Keith’s name.  

Shiro grasps blindly at the cloth and pulls it over Keith’s head. He uses it to wipe him down before throwing it off to the side and pulling the blanket over them. It’s going to be gross later on, but Keith can’t bother to bring himself to care.

Keith knows he’s going to be completely wound like a clock, and it’ll purely be Shiro’s fault. He pushes the thought out in favour of settling against the heat of Shiro’s body, resting his chin on a tuft of white hair as he starts to doze off.

He can be mad at Shiro in the morning.



Predictably, Keith wakes up to an empty bed and a suffocating amount of desire. He tries to will it away, splashing cold water on his face and digging his nails into his thighs. He’s tempted to touch himself, but he can hear Shiro’s orders in the back of his head. The only thing that truly works is Lance banging on his door, letting them know they need to find a way to escape getting babysitting duty again.

Keith leaves Lance on his own for this, mostly to get back at him for using Keith’s red jacket to mop up a food spill in the lounge last week. He decides to locate Shiro, but instead runs into Hunk, who’s using physical training as an excuse to get out of diplomatic duties. Keith’s about to continue his hunt, but hears Coran stomping down the halls in the distance, asking for a volunteer for some task or the other.

They train with the bo staff, because Hunk’s technique has been getting sloppy lately and Keith hasn’t been able to spar with him for a while. It’s also so that when Allura comes around to check on them, it looks like they’re doing more work than they actually are. They give a demonstration to a squad of what Keith assumes are alien teenagers, and it gives them an excuse to not leave the training deck.

They ride fighting as an excuse to avoid any and everything well into the day; Hunk’s refined himself well enough that he gives Keith a proper run for his money, and Keith’s gotten a chance to hammer out some weaknesses.

A few hours later, the two of them are starfished on the floor, staffs leaning forgotten against the wall, chests heaving as they try to regain their breath. Sweat’s plastering Keith’s hair to his forehead, and he can feel the heat radiating off him in waves. It’s the most fun he’s had in a while, and he closes his eyes to bask in it.

Three minutes later, he feels a looming presence over him and cracks his eyes open. Shiro’s looking down at him, bemused. Keith turns his head to look at Hunk, who’s already standing up at attention.

Traitor .

“What’s up?” He asks lazily, making no move to get up. Shiro toes his head, and Keith makes a sound of protest.

“I was wondering if you were free for a bit,” Shiro says dryly. “But you’re clearly occupied.”

“Hey,” Keith says. “We’ve been working hard all day. Right, Hunk?”

“Absolutely,” Hunk agrees, and Keith shoots him a thumbs up. “I think we made some real strides today.”

Keith squints just in time to see Shiro rolling his eyes.

“Am I allowed to take him now?” Shiro asks, the question directed to Hunk. “Or do you have some more strides to make?”

Keith tries to mouth a “ say no ” to Hunk, but Hunk just shrugs and says “Whatever you need us to do, man.”

Keith gives a world weary sigh as he heaves to his feet and brushes off his pants. He crosses his arms over his chest and gives Shiro his most expectant expression. If Shiro’s about to pull him into another menial duty, Keith’s going to refuse to shower beforehand out of pure pettiness.

The actual task is better than Keith expected. There’s no real work at hand; Shiro’s lied about wanting to get some research done, and has bought himself a couple of free hours in the day. He weaves through the halls with Keith, making sure no one sees him haul Keith into their quarters.

“You can shower if you want,” Shiro begins, but Keith’s already flopping face down onto the sheets. He thinks Shiro’s going to protest and roll him off the bed, but he feels Shiro clamber on top and lay flat on top of him.

“What are you trying to do?” Keith attempts to wriggle out. It’s hard because Shiro’s turned his body into dead weight, but Keith tries his best.

“I’m trying to rest,” Shiro mumbles, face buried in Keith’s hair. “I got a plan shot down, only to have it repeated back to me by one of the officers. Four times.”

“Tough crowd,” Keith says, and Shiro gives him enough way for him to roll over onto his back before flopping down on him again.

They lay there for a few minutes, Keith running his fingers through Shiro’s hair and massaging the scalp. Shiro makes content sounds, and Keith’s kind of proud of him for lying his way into skipping duties.

“Shouldn’t you be researching?” Keith gently shoves at Shiro’s shoulder, but Shiro mumbles something incoherent before rolling off Keith and onto his back. He slings an arm across Keith automatically; Shiro’s asleep, and Keith’s heart grows a little larger at how relaxed his face looks.

Keith lets himself stay like that for twenty minutes, enjoying the warm weight against him. He’s physically tired, but his mind is still running a mile a minute from his training session. He focuses on Shiro’s soft breathing to calm down, but when that doesn’t work too well he decides he needs a shower.

He hops in under scalding water, and wonders what everyone else is up to. Shiro’s excuse is only going to hold up for so long, and one of their teammates is bound to notice Keith’s gone as well. If and when they find out, they’re going to give the two of them shit for stealing some free time. Or, they’ll blame Keith while Shiro looks on with an innocent smile. It generally tends to lean to the latter.

When he comes out of the shower, all steamed and in a cleaner set of the same clothes, Shiro’s awake and standing facing one of the walls of the room. He’s got a projection up, and it’s a map of the city and a sizeable radius around it. There are little red pings in the distance, and Shiro’s got his eyebrows pinched in concentration.

“I thought you were supposed to relax,” Keith says, coming up behind Shiro.  “Weren't you knocked out five minutes ago?”

“There’s a weird pattern to how our enemies are emerging,” Shiro says, touching the hologram. It zooms in to what appears to be a large sand basin with multiple red dots. Keith frowns, because they’ve flown over that area before, and it’s a dense thicket of trees. Foot soldiers had also trawled through the woods, and they reported nothing unusual there.

He’s not quite sure what that means, and he can see by the way that Shiro holds his shoulders, it’s going to trouble him for a while. Keith feels like its a waste, given that Shiro’s managed to sneak them some free time, so he reaches for the tablet in Shiro’s hand and turns the hologram off.

“What are you-” Shiro starts, but Keith’s already turned him around and started to crowd him.

Keith knows that it’s selfish on his part to use this stress as an opening, but he’s doing it for Shiro’s good as well. The tablet goes on the desk, Shiro goes against a wall, and Keith goes in for the kill.

He presses a palm flat against Shiro’s chest, keeping him pinned as he leans up to kiss him slow and sweet. Shiro pauses before accepting it, circling his arms around Keith’s waist. Keith holds them like that for a long moment, just enjoying the taste of Shiro against his mouth. He feels Shiro’s hand raise up to his neck, wrapping large and warm around it. He thumbs at Keith’s jaw as they kiss, and Keith lets out a pleased hum.

“I think we have some time left,” Keith’s voice is low and suggestive when they pull apart, and Shiro crooks a smile. “I’d suggest we spend it wisely.”

“You’re right,” Shiro says. “We should get back to work.”

Even though Keith knows ‒ or at least, hopes ‒  that Shiro is joking, he still pins Shiro’s wrist against the wall when he reaches for the tablet.

“Kiss me,” He demands, and Shiro gives him a bemused look before complying.

Keith moves his lips with a little more edge so that he can get the ball rolling. Shiro is slowly but visibly relaxing, and one of his hands hooks its thumb into Keith’s waistband. He pulls at it gently before letting it go with a snap, but it’s all that Keith needs. He ducks his head to kiss at Shiro’s neck, taking special care where it connects with his jaw.

“What do you want?” Shiro asks gently, and Keith grumbles against his skin.

“You know what I want,” He replies.“Stop asking me like you don’t.”

There’s silence for a moment before Shiro makes a thoughtful sound.

“Let me rephrase that,” Shiro says easily, and Keith can feel fingers weave through his hair. “What do you want that you’re allowed to have?”

He tugs Keith’s head back so he’s eye-to-eye with Shiro, who still has a pleasant expression on his face, albeit a small blush sitting underneath his scar. Just like a switch, Keith’s fully turned on and raring to go.

“Come on,” he says, punctuating his words by trying to paw at Shiro’s chest. “It’s been days. One of us needs to fuck the other or I’m going to lose my fucking mind.”

Keith gives a shallow roll of his hips to emphasize his point, and he can feel Shiro shiver slightly underneath his hands. Shiro’s gotten off in the past couple of days and Keith’s not, but Keith knows that his mouth and his hand can only do so much; he knows Shiro is capable of craving more.

Two large hands still his movement. Keith draws back to look at Shiro, and there’s a familiar raw desire in his eyes that causes Keith to go weak without fail.

“What’s gotten into you?” Shiro murmurs, cupping Keith’s cheek.

Keith leans into it and turns his head, nipping the tip of  Shiro’s thumb, and Shiro’s eyes immediately drop to watch the action. Keith opens his mouth and licks the finger before pressing forward and swallowing it. Shiro’s hand drops from Keith’s mouth to his waist, and squeezes hard with intent.

“Want to feel you in me,” Keith’s voice feels coarse as he speaks, but he can see the effect it’s having on Shiro.

Shiro looks like he’s struggling for a second before he makes up his mind. Shiro slides both his hands to Keith’s thighs and scoops him up, Keith’s legs automatically wrapping around him. There’s a steady stream of yes yes yes chanting through Keith’s head as Shiro walks them over to the bed.

Keith bites Shiro’s lower lip and pulls him into another kiss. He’s never had much finesse, but he makes up for it by pouring as much ferocity as he can into the way he touches Shiro. He’s desperate to get his desire across, and to get Shiro to want him as much as he wants Shiro— enough to crack and let Keith have what he really wants.

Shiro keeps one arm underneath Keith, holding him up easily while the other one snakes through his hair again and pulls him away.

“Behave,” he commands before dropping Keith unceremoniously onto the bed. Heat spikes through Keith when he sees the way Shiro clenches his fists.

“Yes sir,” Keith says and wastes no time in reaching up and tugging at the waistband of Shiro’s pants, urging him down. Shiro’s jaw is set in a firm line, but he allows himself to be pulled anyways.

Shiro kisses Keith once before sitting back and giving Keith a contemplative look. Keith’s about to reach for Shiro when Shiro tugs at his own collar, pulling his shirt over his head. It’s a sight Keith’s never going to get enough of; no matter how many times he sees Shiro shirtless, it’ll always cause his brain to short-circuit. When he feels the weight of Shiro’s body on him, Keith preens.

Keith can feel Shiro’s shoulders stiffen, so he presses a palm flat against his chest and pushes, rolling them over so Keith’s straddling Shiro. Shiro’s hands automatically grab at his waist and start shoving up his shirt. Keith helps by yanking it off, and lets out a small shiver when he feels a calloused palm pinch at his chest.

Shiro’s as hard as he is, and Keith can feel the tension work its way through Shiro’s body as he tries to exercise some self control. Keith’s feeling progressively more hellbent in getting Shiro inside of him, getting Shiro to shove his fingers inside his mouth as he fucks Keith like he owns him, getting him to finally let Keith come.

He chooses to tell Shiro as much.

Keith ,” Shiro starts it as a scolding and ends it like a moan as Keith grinds down against him. Good , Keith thinks, because he doesn’t want to be alone in his suffering.

Now that Keith’s found the hunger in Shiro, he tries to egg it on so that Shiro finally gives in. He leans down to bite Shiro’s ear, scratching his fingers down Shiro’s chest and leaving little red trails. Keith doesn’t think Shiro is controlling the way he holds Keith down hard and moves his hips for him.

“Baby–” Shiro tries to grit out, and Keith only whimpers in return as he continues to move. He feels Shiro shake underneath him, and it’s when he feels an unusually warm metal hand slip under his boxers that Keith thinks that Shiro finally gets it.

“I’ve been good,” He begs anyway, because he needs Shiro to know . “Please, I need it. I need you.”

This time, it’s Shiro that surges up for a bruising kiss which Keith melts into, and Keith can only focus on them.

The hand on his ass squeezes hard enough to leave a mark. Through their kiss Keith can feel Shiro swallow back a moan; Keith’s sure he’s got him now, got him trapped and wanting and ready.

That is until he finds himself flat on his back, staring at a heavily flushed Shiro.

He’s pinned down by both his wrists, but in a decidedly non-sexy way as Shiro is propped up on his knees and hands,a considerable amount of distance in between the two of them. Keith tries to sit up, but Shiro’s hold on him is concrete.

Keith’s about to scream.

“Easy,” Shiro says, voice a little breathless, face still pink. “You almost had me there.”

“Had you where?” It comes out rough and demanding, but Keith’s beyond the point of caring.

“Three more days Keith,” Shiro says with a frustratingly high amount of conviction. “I think you can handle three more days.”

Keith groans and strains before letting his head flop down to the pillow. As soon as Shiro lets him go, Keith’s going to destroy him, because he’s never felt as thoroughly disgruntled as he does in this moment. The heady rush of lust that had been spinning through him is quickly being replaced by hot lividity and Keith is ready to eject himself into space.

Shiro dares to shoot him an apologetic look, and Keith throws an arm over his face. He’s being over-dramatic, but Keith’s sure that his severe case of blue-balls is going to be the cause of his downfall.

“Hey,” Keith feels his bicep get nudged over so that Shiro can kiss the tip of his nose. “I can still take care of you.”

He feels a thumb hook into his boxers and start to pull. Keith’s pretty sure this counts as whiplash, and he’s ready to spontaneously combust. Keith pushes Shiro’s hand away, and it reaches up to brush hair off his forehead.

“I can do something for you.” Shiro says, and Keith can’t make sense of his tone.  “But you still aren’t allowed to come.”

Keith scoffs.

“Yeah? What’s your brilliant idea?”

It turns out that Shiro’s something is him sitting Keith on his lap and stretching him on slick fingers while holding on to his base, making sure he doesn’t get to finish. Keith’s got Shiro’s forearm in a death grip with both his hands, fingers digging into the metal that’s choking him off. Shiro’s still hard, and Keith can feel him wet against him. He presses his back against Shiro’s torso and moves, and feels Shiro’s hand stutter before it twists.

Keith’s not so incoherent that he can’t swear at the sensation. He’s on the verge though, and he’s so, so close to telling Shiro to genuinely call this all off so that he can find some peace. But Keith is determined not to lose their game, so he tries to reign himself in as much as possible. It’s hard to do with Shiro mouthing at his neck, even harder when Keith feels the graze of his teeth.

“You’re the worst,” he breathes and he can feel Shiro rumble with a chuckle behind him. “The absolute worst.”

“I can stop,” Shiro offers. “It’s getting late anyways. We have to rejoin the team soon.”

“Don’t you dare,” Keith threatens, catching Shiro’s wrist before he removes his fingers.  



Predictably, the team rags on them for skipping out for a few hours. Especially Keith, who has to lead the rest of the team through attack formations in the morning while Shiro maps out resources with Coran and Allura.

They follow him with the barest respect and like always, Lance gives him shit and Hunk tags along and Keith snaps while Pidge just laughs over the comms. He doesn’t blame them, because they’re tired, and haven’t been as successful in sneaking off for some peace and quiet. But Keith’s also tired and agitated, so he takes the bait. They bicker like they did when they first became a team, and Keith can feel his nerves getting picked at.

When they break form for the fifth time, Keith orders them all to land so he can kick Lance’s ass. It’s the first time all day that the rest of the team listens almost immediately, and Hunk and Pidge make bets as the four of them descend.

Keith’s throwing his helmet to the side as soon as he hits the ground, and he can see Lance do the same. Keith knows he’s supposed to be better than this, that he’s a paladin and not a scrappy student at the Garrison, light years away, but there’s something about the way Lance pushes at him that screams mutually assured destruction.

Pidge has aligned herself with Keith, Hunk with Lance, and they both encourage them as they start to size each other up. Keith’s almost hoping Shiro will barge in to interrupt, but not until they’ve really gotten going and Shiro has to physically pry them apart. That thought sends more blood rushing through Keith’s ears, and he grins as Lance raises his fists and rolls his neck.

It’s when Lance is about to pounce that there’s a loud KRRRRAAAACKKK in the distance. The sky lights up red, and the shockwave travels far enough to rattle the lions.

“What the fuck ,” Pidge breathes, as a giant beast shoots up into the sky.



There’s still a heavy ringing in his ears as he flattens himself against the wall of his room. The upper plates of his armour lay scattered on the floor, but he’s too occupied to care. He’s got his other hand shoved down his half-unzipped bodysuit, and he’s trying so, so hard to be quiet.

Keith bites his knuckles, but it does nothing to ease the rush.

He knows he’s supposed to be cut off for a few more days, but the team has just gotten through one of the most intense scrimmages they’ve had in recent weeks. The forcefield around the capital was supposed to last a few more days, buying them time to build up enough power to annihilate the threat. It clearly didn’t work, and the team had found themselves staring into the thousand eyes of the most terrifying creature yet.

Keith’s quick (albeit high-risk) thinking coupled with Hunk’s innate ability to act like the world’s most powerful battering ram is the main reason everyone’s still in one piece, and Keith feels that he deserves a reward for himself.

He’s left  everyone behind in the control room, having muttered a clearly nonsensical excuse under his breath as the high of winning a surprise battle still coursed within him. Thankfully no one’s followed him, as far as Keith can tell. It’s hard to keep an ear out for anyone with the adrenaline pounding through his body, but Keith tries his best.

He’s got a hand wrapped around himself, and it’s been so long since Keith’s actively worked on getting off that he’s sure that a simple touch will kick him straight off the edge. It’s a naive thought, because as he starts working himself, start running his hand up and down, he knows it’s not enough.

Keith imagines Shiro standing in front of him, arms crossed as he watches in disappointment. Keith imagines what Shiro will say to him, how he’ll reprimand him, what he’ll do to him to punish him.

Keith, alone in his room, trying to pull one off as quick as he can–  it is nowhere near enough.

He speeds up his hand and represses a moan, scrunching his eyes shut and willing himself to finish fast just this one time so he can get it over with, so that he can drain out the tension he’s been building up all week.

The warm twist in his belly crawls up to his chest, and Keith can feel himself start to climb but he knows he’s far from peaking, far too used to being choked off in the last second.

Keith contemplates tucking himself back and going for a good scream in the showers. It’ll have pretty much the same effect, because he’s hard but he’s not getting anywhere and he feels like he’s on the verge of death.

Keith hears a knock and freezes, hand still around himself. He’s quiet because the moment he speaks, his voice is going to probably crack and betray him and‒

“Keith?” Shiro asks from the other side of the door, and Keith shakes his head like Shiro can actually see. He knows he should be rushing to zip up his suit, to hide himself before Shiro sees, but Keith knows it’s written all over his face.

“Are you okay?” Shiro asks, concern lacing his voice. “Can I come in?”

Keith should say no. He should tell Shiro to come back in ten minutes, twenty minutes, when he’s managed to calm down, when he’s not running hot like the sun. If Shiro catches him disobeying, Keith’s going to be in for it.

“Yeah,” He finds himself choking out, and hears the little beeps of Shiro punching in the access code.

The door slides open and Shiro steps in. It’s Keith’s fault for letting him in, but Keith tries to disappear into the wall anyways as Shiro catches sight of him. Shiro raises his eyebrows and gives Keith a once over, and that does more to Keith than his own hand has managed.

He wonders if he should apologize, if he should tell Shiro he’s sorry for breaking, if he should get on his knees and beg. Because Keith’s a lot simpler than he likes to admit, he closes his eyes and squeezes himself at the base instead. He makes an involuntary noise and in less than a second, there’s a large solid mass crowding up against him.

“Open your eyes,” comes the command, and Keith follows automatically. He looks up, and Shiro’s looking down at him with a crooked grin. Shiro plants his Galra arm beside Keith’s head and trails his other hand down Keith’s side, pushing softly at the bodysuit.

“I know you said I had to wait,” Keith says, trying his best to maintain eye contact with Shiro. He’s embarrassed, but he’s not going to give an apology till Shiro works it out of him. “But today was too intense. I couldn’t help it.”

“I know,” Shiro replies. “That’s okay.”

That’s not the answer Keith’s expecting, especially given how rigid Shiro has been acting all week about making sure Keith doesn’t get himself off till Shiro says he can. He feels a knee between his legs, and lets them fall open a little. Shiro moves forward and wedges his thigh in between Keith.

He pulls Keith’s hands away and draws them behind him, using one hand to sandwich them between Keith’s back and the wall. He pushes his leg up, getting Keith to ride it a little and Keith goes cross-eyed at the friction his own body suit creates as he’s moved. His hips twitch at the feeling, and Shiro lets out a pleased sound.

“You deserve a reward for today,” Shiro murmurs, and Keith’s glad that they’re on the same page with that. Shiro leans in to kiss him, soft and light, and doesn’t fully pull away when he speaks next.

“Just do one thing for me,” He says, lips brushing against Keith’s. He presses forward, the weight of his paladin suit heavy and trapping. “Don’t use your hands.”

Keith can’t help the sound that he makes into Shiro’s mouth, and Shiro envelopes him in another kiss.  Keith wastes no time in pressing his tongue through; he normally tries to be more polite but he’s crackling with too much electricity to care. He grinds down against Shiro’s thighs, and his brain is screaming for something more than just the fabric rubbing against him.

“You were so good today,” Shiro murmurs lowly, shifting to kiss Keith’s temple. “You fight so well.”

All Keith can manage is panting out Shiro’s name as he works himself up. Hes getting a little closer than he was before, and he doesn’t know if concentrating on Shiro is helping. On one hand, the excitement of finally being able to come, and the warmth of the praise curling around him is enough to wind Keith up. But having Shiro loom over him, having him bite gently and leave little pink marks along his neck, having him pushing him up against a wall but not being able to touch is driving Keith insane . He’s sure the moment his hands come free, all bets are off. But he struggles against the hold, and knows Shiro isn’t going to let him go.

“I’m proud of you,” Shiro’s voice sinks lower as he drops the private praise. Keith’s toes involuntarily curl. “Proud to call you mine. Proud to be yours.”

To have Shiro purr in his ears like this makes the hell Keith went through worth it. He picks up speed, causing Shiro to hiss and press his thigh up further.

“Fuck,” Shiro’s voice has roughened, and Keith can feel the grip on his hands loosening a little. “Keith, I-“

An alarm blares and red starts flashing through the room. Shiro looks up and the castle rattles with a loud thud. This time, Keith does let out a yell, planting his face into Shiro’s chestplate to muffle it. Shiro opens his mouth, concern clearly written across his face, but Keith’s already zipping his body suit and shoving them both off the wall.

Keith thinks it’s stupid that his frustration has reached a new level, because he’s gone a lot longer without sex before. Everything in this situation, from Shiro’s order to the way that he’s handling Keith, compiled with the battle-adrenaline rushing through his system has turned Keith into some sort of desperate creature with too much pent up energy.

The only plus, he thinks faintly as Shiro helps him strap on the rest of his armour, is that he can channel that frustration into some absolutely brutal fighting.

It’s that thought that makes him turn reckless when he sees an enemy smack the black lion clean out of the air.


Chapter Text

Being a paladin is a lot like playing a never ending game of chess where the opponent is a thousand computers all linked together, working to make life as hard as possible.

Sometimes, particularly in this instance, it’s also like playing a particularly vicious round of whack-a-mole.

Keith’s going full speed, seeing pure red as his teammates yell over the comms. There’s a loud static sound from where Shiro’s line has gone out, due to the pure force at which his lion got knocked out of the sky. Keith tells himself that Shiro will be okay– he knows Shiro’s going to be okay, but anger still bursts within him like a supernova.

He’s barrelling towards the epicentre of the chaos, where a disgraced military general hovers in a heavily fortified craft. The glamour they cast over the land has been broken, and has revealed a cage of flesh-hungry creatures that are as large as they are terrifying.

He hears Pidge yell as her lion gets hit hard by an acidic blast, and Lance scrambles to swipe her out of the air before she has a hard landing.

“Hunk!” Keith calls out. “I need backup!”

Hunk shouts out what Keith thinks is an affirmation, and he sees the yellow lion shoot into his periphery. Keith pushes forward, throwing his lion into full throttle. Right before he makes contact with the enemy ship, he sees the black lion rise.

Too late , he thinks. Too bad.



When the healing pod’s doors open and Keith stumbles out, it’s Coran that catches him. Keith hates the slimy feel that comes immediately after stepping out of the pod, and he hates how it makes the white suit stick to his body like it’s been drenched in glue.

“That wasn’t too bad,” Coran says cheerfully, as he helps Keith regain his footing. “You’re just in time for the party!”

“Party?” Keith frowns as his feet find stability. He looks around, and the room is relatively empty. “How long was I out for?”

“Since yesterday,” Coran explains, and brushes invisible dust off Keith. Keith must look visibly distressed, because Coran claps him in the shoulder. “But you’re here in one piece. We thought it would take a lot longer, but that Galra blood’s got it’s benefits, right?”

A full day in the healing pod means Keith’s beat himself up pretty bad. He can’t remember much of the melee but feels faint traces of the raw rage with which he attacked the general’s ship. Vaguely, he remembers getting pinned down, baring his metaphorical teeth as he absolutely refused to give in to a ship piloted by an alien who can barely come up to his waist.

“Did we win?” He asks, voice creaking around the words. “Is it done? Can we leave?”

“It’s done,” Coran says. “But we can’t leave yet. The princess has to finish sealing the alliance, so we’ll be here for a couple of days.”

“Are there more aliens to fight?” Keith groans, because he’s absolutely sick of this planet. He wants to volley out and never look back. “Please tell me there are more aliens to fight. I don’t want to do diplomatic things with these guys.”

“Well,” Coran scratches the back of his head and looks around before leaning in and whispering conspiratorially. “They’re hosting a banquet in our honour right now, but no one needs to know you’re awake yet. No one’s in the castle-ship right now.”

Keith breathes the largest sigh of relief, and lets Coran help him back to his room.



When the door unlocks, Keith waits for Shiro to step into the room before making himself known. He’s currently wrapped up in blankets on their bed, and had been in the process of dozing off when the keypad outside had beeped. Keith sits up and gives a wave as Shiro enters and sees him illuminated in the green glow.

“Hey,” He says, keeping his voice as casual as possible. “Guess who’s up and running again?”

Shiro freezes. A few seconds pass, and Keith debates whether or not to throw a pillow at him.

“I feel like I should scold you,” Shiro says slowly. “But I would have done the same.”

Keith grins at that, because it always holds true with whatever irrational move he’s ever pulled off in the heat of the moment. Shiro’s got as mean a streak as he does; he’s just better at containing it and playing safe.

“All things said and done, I think it went pretty well,” Keith sits up a little straighter, letting the blanket slide off his lap. “I’m not dead, at any rate.”

Shiro’s face gets a little funny, a little soft at his words. Keith opens his mouth to shape his next sentence, but Shiro’s on him before he can speak, swallowing up his words with a fierce kiss. He can see it coming from a mile away, but he still lets out a surprised oompf.

Shiro pushes him backwards, and kisses Keith like he’s his last meal. Keith can feel the delayed adrenaline rush spike through them like a sharp current. Keith doesn’t get a chance to speak, and he doesn’t know if he really wants to.

He lifts his arms automatically so that Shiro can pull off his shirt and attack his neck with teeth and tongue and desperation. It’s like this every time they have a near death experience and while Keith’s not a big fan of those, he can appreciate how Shiro forgets about all finesse in favour of wanting Keith immediately.

While all other thoughts start exiting Keith’s brain in favour of being filled with how Shiro feels in his arms at the moment, there is one that still remains. Keith’s not particularly a masochist; he sees this more as an opportunity to make Shiro the one to suffer a little. Keith’s going to hate himself for it later, but he’s going to love Shiro’s expression right now.

Shiro’s placing hard, biting kisses across Keith’s chest, soothing the small marks with his tongue. Keith runs his fingers through short hair before fisting the white tuft and jerking Shiro’s head up.

“Hey,” He says, propping himself up on one elbow. Shiro blinks. “Not till tomorrow, right?”



Shiro’s somewhat testy in the morning. Good , Keith thinks. He can feel a fraction of what Keith’s been suffering through all week.

Well— Keith also knows that it’s more due to the fact that all the paladins but Shiro get the full day off. He has to go make nice with the dignitaries, who apparently have gotten more bearable since they saw Keith’s show of force the day before, and have even been apologetic about not having listed the general as a possible threat, despite already knowing the extent of both their powers and their anger.

“You’re to stay here and recuperate,” Shiro calls out from the bathroom, checking the collar of his shirt. Keith felt generous enough last night to leave a couple of lasting marks for Shiro, and he doesn’t think Shiro’s showing them the appreciation they deserve.

“Yes sir,” Keith drawls from where he’s propped up on their bed, flicking through the damage reports on their lions.

“I’m serious,” Shiro says, stepping out. “We agreed on this.”

Keith bites back a you agreed on this , because it’s not like he’s going to listen to Shiro anyways. They’ve already argued about this twice this morning already; Shiro thinks Keith needs rest and to remain horizontal for as long as possible. Keith thinks he’s not geriatric, and needs to siphon off energy into training. He knows Shiro’s got good intentions and doesn’t see Keith as weak, just injured, but the healing pods are fully functional and Keith’s only sore. It’s not a big deal.

“Have fun,” Keith says sweetly, and Shiro rolls his eyes at him. He still strides over to Keith to give him a kiss before he leaves, and Keith paws at the front of his shirt. It doesn’t last long, because Shiro breaks out into hives whenever he runs late for anything, and Keith sees him off with a two-fingered salute.

He makes it through the damaged specs of the green lion before he figures the coast is clear, and rolls out of bed, heading straight towards the training deck.



Pidge whoops as Keith puts the gladiator to the ground again. He drops his knives on the floor, cracks his knuckles, then resumes his stance as she commands the robot to stand up before sending it flying at him.

She’s managed to reprogram a few of the bots to fight according to the catalog of enemy combat skills she’s been keeping. It works twofold; Pidge gets to learn how to think like the enemy, and Keith is learning how to go up against opponents who are cruel in diverse ways. The training tends to be a little more brutal than what had been programmed by the Alteans, and Keith can feel it sharpening him like a blade.

Keith’s surprised at how long it takes for Shiro to catch them. Keith was so sure that at the first instance of the gladiator throwing him against the wall, Shiro would stomp in and pull him out by his ear. It’s fine though; they’ve been at it for an hour, and while Keith’s body is screaming with exhaustion, he’s got pure exhilaration running through him.

Predictably, when Shiro does catch them, it's in the middle of Keith taking a robotic fist to the face. Pidge yelps and scrambles to shut the gladiator down while Shiro stands and looks significantly unimpressed.

“Good work,” Shiro tells Pidge, and it sounds genuine. He looks back at Keith. “You, not so much.”

“I tried,” Keith shrugs, tries to look as nonchalant as possible. He’s not feeling apologetic, nor is he feeling guilty.

“I told you to stay back,” Shiro says, and there’s a familiar edge to his voice that tells Keith that Shiro’s morning has been a lot more frustrating than his face lets on.

“Sorry, sir ,” Keith says, weighing heavy on the last word. Shiro’s expression doesn’t change, and Keith tries to press him a little more. “I just had a lot of energy to get rid of. I can’t sit around all day.”

“Stop calling me sir if you’re not going to put any respect in it,” Shiro’s voice is exasperated, and the corners of Keith’s lips twitch up.

“I should go,” Pidge says, eyeing the two wearily. Shiro nods and Keith gives her a lazy wave as she retreats from the deck. Shiro turns his full attention to Keith. Keith crosses his arms over his chest defiantly, and is vaguely reminded of all the times Shiro would catch him sneaking into the gym after hours at the Garrison.

“So you have a lot of energy to get rid of?” Shiro asks as he walks towards Keith. Keith raises an eyebrow.

“Yeah,” He replies, and steps closer to Shiro. He tilts his chin up, keeping his arms folded. “I wasn’t allowed to use my only other outlet for a week, so I have a lot pent up.”

Shiro’s eyes darken briefly, and Keith works hard to suppress a smug look. He’s riling Shiro up again, and from the way he looked at Keith last night, Shiro’s on his last rope as well.

“One fight,” Shiro says, and Keith’s sure the distance between them is closing rapidly. Keith stands straighter, his need to posture making itself evident. “I’ll spar with you one time, and you go back to our room.”

“Oh?” Keith lilts his voice, challenging. “Are you going to come with me?”

“Depends on who wins,” Shiro replies, and Keith can instantly tell from the look on his face that it’s not going to be Keith.

Shiro takes off his vest and throws it on top of where Keith’s red jacket is sitting. He rotates his head, stretching his neck, and Keith’s reminded of when they sparred at the beginning of the week.

Less so when he goes in for a high kick, and Shiro catches his leg, throwing him off balance like he’s nothing. Keith’s quick like a whip, but Shiro knows the way he fights a little too well. He keeps telling Keith that he can’t be all legs and swords, and Keith always responds with the same, fight me then.

Shiro thrusts a flat palm forward, knocking Keith in the chest with enough force to wind him before going in for a second hit. Keith deflects him, and decides if Shiro’s going to be serious about this, Keith might as well give him a run for  his money.

They grapple, and Keith finds an opening to administer a hard kick and swipe Shiro’s legs out from underneath him. He has the advantage for only a fraction of a second, because Shiro grabs his calf on the way down and yanks. They roll, trying to get dominance over the other, and Keith thinks he’s got the advantage when he manages to get Shiro in a headlock, lying perpendicular on top of him.

“Yield,” He sings to Shiro, and Shiro merely grins in return.

Keith’s going to blame his momentary slip up on the fact that he gets distracted by Shiro’s hand grasping a little too hard on his bicep and the way Keith’s name falls out of his mouth. It’s the only way he’s willing to reconcile with the fact that Shiro finds an opening and slides out of Keith’s grip, using more strength than technique to gain control and flip Keith onto his stomach.

“Don’t you have work to do?” Keith huffs, straining. “It’s not like you to neglect duties.”

“I’m done for the day,” Shiro says from above him, and Keith scrambles to get up. “I have a little free time.”

He immediately gets pushed down onto the ground, eating dirt before he has a chance to escape. There’s a hand pressed between his shoulders, rooting him to the ground with more force than normal, and then Keith understands .

“Still frustrated about yesterday?” Keith says into the floor. “Now how you know how I felt.”

Keith kicks out and Shiro catches his wrist right as he twists, wrenching them behind Keith as he turns over onto his back. Keith squirms, arches, and swears as Shiro’s grip tightens.

“I’m fine,” Shiro grins from above him. “Fights aren’t supposed to last more than two minutes, remember?”

A knee presses in between Keith’s legs and Keith finds them parting without second thought.

“I yield,” Keith says unprompted, trying not to pant too loudly. Shiro looks infinitely pleased, and pushes his knee further. Keith tries his best to bite back a groan and not jerk his hips. Shiro leans down and places  a soft, wet kiss against his jaw before he speaks.

“Good boy.”



Keith thinks Shiro’s going to let him go. He thinks he’s going to make Keith complete a full day before he pulls him down into their bed and proceeds to wreck him. Keith thinks maybe Shiro’s going to make him wait a little longer for his insubordination today, maybe drawing it out till the next day, maybe till they leave the planet. It’s quite possible that Shiro just  wants to play with his food a little longer, and Keith’s mentally prepared himself for this.

Keith forgets this all when Shiro pushes him face-first against the door of their bedroom as soon as it shuts, grabbing at every inch of Keith while he mouths at his neck. He’s pressed completely against Keith, trapping him against the metal as he bites at his earlobe.

Shiro had refused to fight Keith again, and put Keith down easily when Keith had decided to charge him anyways. Keith took it in good spirit, and had  allowed Shiro to haul him off the floor and to their room, keeping his grumbling to a minimal. Keith had expected to get dumped on the bed and have Shiro watch him till he fell asleep, but this is infinitely better.

Keith tries to wriggle out and Shiro puts a heavy hand on his shoulder, pinning him in place. He turns his head and Shiro takes his chin in his hand, kissing Keith with full force. Shiro’s tongue slicks hot and messy into Keith’s mouth, and Keith goes cross eyed when Shiro tilts his head for a better angle. Heat and power radiates off Shiro, and Keith doesn’t hold back the sounds he makes into his mouth.

“Despite today, you’ve been so good for me,” Shiro says when they break apart, still holding onto Keith’s face. “I think you deserve a reward.”

“Yes sir,” Keith replies, and feels Shiro lean in more.

“Only if you want it,” Shiro says. Keith tries to kiss him, but Shiro’s got complete control of both of them and stays just out of Keith’s reach.

Please , sir,” Keith’s more than happy to comply, to give a resounding yes to the question hidden under Shiro’s words. There’s a fiery ball of desire unfurling in him, and he thinks he’s going to have to keep Shiro in bed for a week just to work out the tension from the one that just passed.

He almost whines when the weight against his back suddenly disappears, but uses that opportunity to turn around, just in time to see Shiro pulling his shirt over his head. It drops to the ground, and Shiro kicks it to the side before toeing off his boots. Keith follows suit, kicking his shoes off, and he’s about to pull off his own shirt when two large hands stop him.

Shiro pulls it off for him and tosses it away before running a thumb across the ridges of his ribs.  He hooks a finger in the front of Keith's pants and tugs him close enough that Keith tilts his head to maintain eye contact. Keith rests his hands on Shiro’s broad shoulders, flattening his palms and curling his fingers to feel more of the warm skin.

“Is this happening?” Keith asks bluntly. If Shiro cuts him off half way through again, Keith will shrivel on the spot.

“We’ll find out,” Shiro grins, and Keith’s way too strung out to know if he means it or not. Keith decides to do his best to make his case and flips them so that Shiro’s up against the door.

He tries and makes himself as enticing as possible, letting his naked chest brush against Shiro’s as he presses his mouth upwards. Shiro shifts his hands down as he opens his mouth for Keith, plucking at the waistband of Keith's pants. One hand slides into his boxers, and Keith pushes his tongue into Shiro’s mouth.

It doesn't take long for the kiss to turn filthy again, and Keith can feel Shiro squeeze his ass harder with every slide of his tongue. Keith's the one to finally break the kiss, stepping back and maintaining eye contact with Shiro as he pushes down his pants.

Shiro starts stalking towards him, and Keith walks backwards, keeping distance as he steps out of his clothes. He keeps his boxers on, because he’s scared that he’s going to come as soon as he gets any skin-on-skin contact. He’s got impressive stamina, but Shiro’s left him in a dangerous place. The back of his knees hit the bed, and Keith automatically sits down.

Shiro stands in front of him, large and looming, looking down with a flush that's slowly making its way across his shoulders. He raises a knee and pushes it in between Keith's legs, pressing it into the mattress. It’s a mirror of what Shiro did to him in the training deck, and Keith feels himself twitch. He closes his eyes, mentally counting to ten to calm himself down, and feels a hand slide under his chin.

“I'll take care of you,” Shiro says, tilting Keith’s head up and cupping his jaw. Shiro’s thumb presses against Keith's bottom lip, and Keith parts his mouth. “Tell me what you want.”

Keith runs his tongue under pad of the metal finger, before kissing the tip and letting it fall from his mouth. He leans forward and presses his lips over the cloth where Shiro’s growing hard.

“Whatever you think I deserve,” he says, mouthing at  the fabric and placing an open, sloppy kiss against it. The urge to have Shiro in him is as great as the general urge to break the week’s worth of tension, and Keith bites back the sharp noise he makes when Shiro pushes him back onto the mattress.

Before Keith has time to regroup, Shiro’s on him, hiking him up the bed so that his legs no longer dangle over the edge.

“Let me be good to you,” Shiro hovers above Keith, voice raw. “Let me give you what you need.”

It’s Shiro’s way of asking how far he can go with Keith, how much he can unleash himself on him. Keith wants it all, wants to feel it in his body for days and in his bones for longer, so he hooks his leg around Shiro’s waist and pulls him close.

Shiro arches his lower back and grinds into Keith with force, and the “ yes ” Keith gives gets lost into a moan.  

Shiro reaches over and slams the button at the head of their bed, opening up the sliding door for the cubby. Keith can hear the rustling above him, and a bottle of lube drops onto his stomach.

Shiro pauses, and Keith can hear him thinking whether or not he wants to make a mess. When Shiro sits back empty handed, Keith registers another ping of excitement. He helps Shiro slide off both their boxers and lets Shiro slide a pillow under his lower back.

On a regular day, Keith would at least push Shiro down to get his mouth on him before they go any further. He knows though that if he were to do it now, he would snap like a band and Keith’s determined not to finish unless Shiro is inside him.

Shiro always slows down at this part, regardless of how desperate they are. Keith squirms as he feels the press of a slicked finger and Shiro steadies him with a palm against his sternum.

“Look at you,” he murmurs, and chases his hand with a kiss in the centre of Keith’s chest, pinching at him and rolling. “We’ve barely started.”

“It’s your fault,” Keith shoves at Shiro’s shoulders with no real force, and Shiro bites down on the skin as punishment. He soothes it over with a tongue and works a second finger into Keith, pushing forward and causing Keith to twitch.

Keith reaches for himself, desperate to touch, and his hands get swatted away. Shiro takes his wrist with his free hand and pins it beside Keith’s head.

“What are you doing?” Under Shiro’s gentle tone lies an edge that makes Keith’s toes curl. He doesn’t even try to move his hand as he looks up at Shiro from under his lashes.

“I need-“ he begins, but Shiro doesn’t let him have even that much before he cuts Keith off.

“You don’t touch yourself unless I say so,” Shiro says. “I decide when you get to come.”

Keith realizes something as Shiro gives him a lopsided smile, adds another finger, and twists. Despite the fact that he feels like a live wire in the water, it’s now been conditioned into him that he's not going to come until Shiro gives the command. From the look on Shiro’s face, Shiro knows this as well.

Shiro works Keith open excruciatingly slow, and Keith feels his flush crawl down to his chest as Shiro continues to kiss it tenderly. He rolls his hips, trying to speed things up, but Shiro exercises great control and simply stops him when he gets too excited.

“Is this how you want to finish?” Shiro asks when he presses a firm hand against Keith’s hip yet again. “Or do you want me in you?”

Shiro flattens his thumb into the skin and rubs it gently before tracing a light line to Keith’s groin. He encircles Keith in a loose grip, and jerks him lightly.

A tight coil starts to wind in Keith, and he can see himself leaking. This would be enough in any other given circumstances, but Keith shakes his head.

“In me,” he says, voice cracking at the end, and Shiro’s hand stills. He pulls out his fingers, and gives a wet squeeze to Keith’s inner thigh.

He bends over Keith to kiss him, and Keith catches the vibrations of Shiro’s groan in his own throat as Shiro slicks himself up. Shiro moves his free hand under Keith’s back, and the action feels too familiar. Keith plants his weight down before Shiro can haul him up.

The thought of pinning Shiro down by his shoulders and riding him hard till he finishes hot and messy over his stomach strongly appeals to Keith. On any other day, it ranks high on Keith’s list of the top ten things he likes to do with Shiro. However, this time Keith has a pressing need to make Shiro put in all the effort.

“I am not getting on top,” Keith crosses his arms over his chest and Shiro lets out a surprised laugh. It breaks the moment a little, but Keith’s insistent. “What? I’m the one that had to hold back all week. Why should I do any more work?”

“Fair enough,” Shiro chuckles, pecking the tip of Keith’s chin and pulling him closer. When Shiro pushes Keith’s legs further apart, Keith’s hands shoot out to fist at Shiro’s hair. He uses it to guide him to his neck so that Shiro can latch on with his teeth as he pushes in.

No matter how many times they do this, Keith never fails to lose his breath when he feels the dull press of Shiro inside of him. He clings on to Shiro, scraping fingers across his scalp while Shiro groans against him. He knows he's got to pull Shiro off before his bites bruise, but Keith's too concentrated on the feeling of being full.

A cool palm slides up the back of Keith’s thigh and pushes, bringing his leg closer to his chest. Shiro peppers soft kisses along the inside of his knee as he gently rolls into Keith, easing in further with each slow thrust.

Keith lets out a sharp exhale when Shiro bottoms out, drinking in the low endearments Shiro whispers to him while he lets Keith adjust. Shiro feels hot and lush inside of him, moving slowly, and Keith has to pinch himself to remind him that it’s real.  

The initial discomfort gives way to familiarity and a tender warmth, and Keith's eyes are at half mast as he gets used to the sensation. He looks up at Shiro from under his eyelashes and sees the way he bites his lip in concentration, trying to gauge how Keith is doing.

Keith plants a hand on his side, grips the mattress and uses it as leverage to rock onto Shiro. Shiro suddenly snaps forward involuntarily, and Keith's head falls back. Shiro takes it as a sign and starts to move a little faster, putting just enough force into it to make the sheets shift under Keith. It punches the air out of Keith and it’s good, so good.

But Keith's impatient and needs more. Preferably sooner, rather than later— when his other foot brushes against Shiro’s thigh and feels it shake, he knows Shiro’s ready to give it to him.

“Is this it?” he asks, trying his best not to sound like he's struggling to gain his breath.

Shiro shakes his head with a bemused chuckle, like he knows what Keith's up to.

“You have to get used to it,” Shiro runs hand over Keith's forehead, brushing his bangs out of his eyes. Keith scoffs at that, and the gentle touch twists into his hair and tugs. “Hey, behave.”

“No,” Keith says. “I don't think I should.”

He puts the same challenge in his voice that he had on the training deck, and he hopes Shiro rises to it.

“You’ve been doing well so far,” Shiro says lightly, and Keith thinks he just might have him in his trap. “So I suggest you do.”

“Or what, you'll punish me again?” Keith says, bringing heat into his voice. “You've been holding back from me all week. Give it to me like I know you want to, Shirogane.”

Shiro stops moving, and Keith worries for a moment that maybe his taunts have had the opposite effect. But then Shiros eyes flit up to Keith's and from the look he gives him, Keith can tell that’s going to be the longest sentence he'll be able to string together for a while.

Shiro sits back on his heels, pulling Keith’s lower half completely onto his lap as he goes. Keith spreads his legs a little wider to accommodate Shiro’s width and hooks one ankle over the other. Shiro draws Keith off of him slowly, and holds still when he's halfway, pausing for a moment. Keith tries to move and chase some pleasure, but Shiro presses his hand over Keith's stomach.

“Don’t move,” Shiro’s voice comes out rough, and he scoops Keith's hips into his hands.

Keith's about to ask what he plans to do, maybe poke at him some more, but Shiro snaps forward so hard that he gets the words knocked clean out of him.

Keith tries to find purchase, grabbing Shiro’s arms to hold on to as Shiro drives into him, big and powerful. Keith isn’t naturally loud or vocal in bed; he doesn’t put on a show with his voice either, so the increasing sounds and the oh oh oh ’s that Shiro gets out of him are genuine. A cry tears from his throat, and Shiro quickens to an unforgiving pace, bruising fingerprints into Keith's skin as he uses him.

All the ways Shiro had teased him to the edge in the week have funneled down to this moment. Keith is finally, finally getting what he wants, finally getting any semblance of coherence fucked out of him hard and fast by Shiro. Shiro’s skin glistens with sweat from the effort and he looks like he's holding onto his own self control by the thinnest, frayed thread.

Keith’s barely moving; there’s no point, because Shiro does it for him, hands fierce on his hips as he yanks Keith down to meet him continuously. The drag of the bedsheets against Keith’s shoulders make him arch his back further, and he digs his nails hard into Shiro’s forearms. He's suffocating in the best way, gasping and shaping Shiro’s name out of his moans as he tries to hang on.

“Baby,” Shiro pants out, and Keith’s not sure how he’s going to be able to say anything.

“Yeah,” he manages, breathy and heavy and overwhelmed. It’s all Shiro needs to hear to know; he snaps forward once, twice, three times before snaking an arm under Keith’s back and hauling him up onto his lap.

Keith throws his arms around Shiro’s shoulders and starts mouthing at his neck, leaving sloppy kisses wherever he can reach. Soon, it's the only thing he's able to do when Shiro circles both his arms around Keith, holding him in place.

When Shiro starts moving again, short, slow, and controlled, Keith finds the meat of his shoulder and holds on by his teeth. He muffles little sounds into Shiro’s skin while Shiro gives approving ones in return. Shiro moves languidly this time, steady as he brings Keith down and calms him a little.

It feels good this way, different from when Shiro was driving into him. Keith finds himself calming down a little and becoming a little more aware of his surroundings. He can appreciate the short ah ’s Shiro lets out, the way his muscles flex under Keith’s wandering hands, the splay of his fingers in between Keith’s shoulder blades, hot like an iron brand.

“Told you it wouldn’t be bad if you got on top,” Shiro says, amused and breathless, and Keith draws back with pinched brows.

He wants to ask Shiro how he’s still able to say so many words in a row, but Shiro thrusts up hard and Keith forgets how to speak. He's determined though, so he tries his best to prod anyways.

“I guess it’s okay,” he manages, and Shiro’s eyebrows practically climb to his hairline.

“Just okay?” Shiro asks, and Keith thinks nothing of it till he feels his world tilt and he's shoved onto his back.

Shiro kisses him hungrily, biting his lip and curling his tongue around Keith’s. Keith returns it lavishly, but Shiro’s still got an odd look of displeasure on his face when he pulls back.

“You’ve been so good for me,” Shiro says. “I can’t have you feeling just okay.”

He punctuates it with pushing into Keith in a way that has him getting shifted a considerable distance up the mattress. He keens and Shiro swallows up the sound with another kiss, one so consuming that Keith feels a little dizzy.

“Shiro,” he gasps out as his brain chants a more more more , drinking in all the attention as Shiro moves ferociously in him.

It's fierce and he loves it, but knows the extent of Shiro’s strength, has felt it before and knows that even this is him holding back.

He doesn't realize he’s said some of it out loud till Shiro suddenly stops completely and withdraws out fully without warning. Keith’s not proud of the yelp he lets out at the feeling of suddenly being empty.

A hand slips under his shoulder and flips him over, pressing him into the sheets. With the small shred of awareness he has left, Keith props himself up on his elbows and looks back at Shiro. Involuntary panic floods Keith for a moment, and he’s scared that Shiro’s going to change his mind and cut him off again. If that happens, Keith's pretty sure he’s going to die.

There must be something wrecked in Keith’s expression, because Shiro’s face softens.

“I’m right here,” he reassures softly.

Keith hangs his head, closing his eyes and clenching his fists, letting the nails dully cut into his palm. He’s a mess right now, teetering dangerously on the edge, but he wants to hold out till he's ordered to let go.

Keith hears the clicking of a cap, and Shiro smooths a hand over Keith’s back as he works more lube over himself. He drips some over where Keith’s already wet and pushes in with his thumb. He circles it before withdrawing and  lining himself up. When Keith feels the tip press in again, it takes all the willpower he has to not push back and seat himself in one go.

Shiro moves shallow at first, holding onto Keith and easing himself back in. It's slicker and easier than before, and the position has the corners of Keith's vision going fuzzy.  Shiro halts when he's fully in, but Keith's way past the ability to wait.

“Shiro, please-“ Keith whimpers, and the fingers on his hip grow tighter. “Please don’t stop, please –“

The hand that has been rubbing soothing lines across the length of Keith’s spine stills before removing itself. Keith wriggles his hips, trying to get some movement and relief. Suddenly, he feels a hand fist through his hair and pull , wrenching his head up.

Shiro drives into him slow but hard, jolting him with every thrust. Keith's got his hands planted on the mattress, but his arms tremble hard with the effort. Shiro uses the hold on his hair as a way to keep him steady, and grunts every time he bottoms out.

“You're so good when you listen,” Shiro says through gritted teeth. “And even better when you don't.”

Keith has no way of stifling the moan that spills out of his mouth, loud and clear and ruined. Keith is grateful for his endurance abilities because he knows that otherwise, he would not have lasted this long under Shiro’s hands. Faintly, he's worried that someone passing by might hear Keith falling apart, but he can't quite find it in him to care.

He knows Shiro does though, so it doesn't take him by surprise when Shiro lets go of his hair. Keith waits for a second to catch his breath before reaching for a pillow. He places it under his head, falls onto his elbows, and looks over his shoulder at Shiro before dropping his head down.

Shiro nods and leans down, kissing a damp temple before cupping his cheek and turning his head. He exchanges a short, sweet kiss with Keith, pushing his back to create a perfect curve and letting Keith arch into the bed. Shiro lets go of Keith's face and pulls his lower half up further, and Keith braces himself.

This time Shiro slams into him with full force, and the mattress squeaks in protest underneath them. The final thread of Shiro’s self control snaps audibly, and he fucks Keith at a punishing pace, ripping cry after cry from his throat. Shiro says Keith's name, but there's too much blood rushing through Keith's ears to hear it.

The last of Keith’s strength gives out and he collapses forward into his forearms. He raises his head and tries to gasp for air but he can barely breathe anyways, and he clings to the sheets like a lifeline. Two large hands encircle his, and wrenches them off the bed. Shiro uses one hand to pin Keith’s wrists to his back and the other to hold onto his hip. Shiro shifts, angling himself differently, and Keith loses sense of everything.

His eyes roll back, the corners of them growing wet as he tries his best to not scream himself hoarse. Shiro lets go of his wrists, but slides his hands to the crook of Keith's elbows and uses that as leverage instead.

The friction against the linen feels overwhelming, but Keith's incapable of helping himself. He can no longer control the moans tumbling out of his mouth, and tries to bite down into the pillow. He clenches his fists, unable to grasp at anything due to the strength of the hold on his arms. Shiro’s giving it to him so good that Keith can feel the cloth underneath him grow damp with his tears.

Keith's not sure if he remembers his own name, where they are, or anything that’s ever happened outside of this moment. All he can focus on is how Shiro fills him perfectly, how big and thick he is, how the skin of his thighs sears against Keith’s.

“I'm close,” Keith manages to hiccup out, because he's standing on a precipice, ready. All he needs is Shiro to tell him to jump.

“Touch yourself,” Shiro commands him, voice broken up by his panting. “Finish yourself off for me.”

The thought of any autonomous movement is so foreign to Keith right now that it’s made its home on another planet. He can only move if Shiro moves him; he has no control over himself otherwise.

“I can’t, ” He nearly wails as Shiro lets his arms go. “Shiro, I can’t, please-”

Shiro stutters in him and Keith makes a pathetic, yearning sound. Panic shoots through Keith and he gets worried that Shiro’s going to insist. He’s ready to beg again because there’s no way he can move, but Shiro picks the speed back up again. Keith tries to say something, but it comes out as nonsense when Shiro reaches down for him.

“Come for me,” Shiro orders, letting the force of his thrusts push Keith into his rapidly moving hand. “You’ve been so good, take what you deserve, let me feel you–”

Keith comes hard with a scream that gets absorbed by the pillow, his head blanking out completely. His legs shake violently and he gasps for breath, a week’s worth of tension and denial unwinding itself from around his throat. His brain feels like soup, his thoughts hazy and unbelieving that he finally got what he’s been craving. He lets out each exhale as a short whine, heart pounding like a hammer.

Keith’s body has entered a weak jelly state, and Shiro has to hold him up as he chases his own end. Keith's starting to grow sensitive, but he's addicted to how Shiro feels inside of him. Shiro grows more erratic, jerking and stuttering in Keith and Keith lets himself bask in the feeling of Shiro using him to finish.

Shiro curls over Keith when he comes, breathing out Keith’s name as he spills hot inside him. Keith lets him ride it out, lets out a soft sound out at each weakening thrust.  When Shiro releases him, Keith completely flattens onto the bed, giving a whimper as Shiro slips out of him.

The room’s filled with the sound of their heavy breathing as they come down from their high. Shiro flops onto his side and rolls onto his back. Keith lifts his head and turns it towards Shiro, resting it down again as he stares at him. Shiro’s eyes are closed and his chest is heaving, a pink flush still evident across his cheeks. Keith feels a sense of pride at some of the scratches and bite marks he's left on his skin, and knows he has an impressive set of bruises of his own. They stay there for a moment, trying to regulate their breathing again, and Keith struggles to keep his eyes open.

Distantly, he can feel Shiro roll on top of him and hears him ask if he’s okay. He feels a gentle hand run across his lower back, placing butterfly-light kisses down his spine. Keith can tell Shiro wants to take care of him right now, wants to clean him and kiss him and tell him how good he is and how well he did. Keith wants all that too, but he's too spent to get his brain functioning and spark some kind of movement or response. He's not quite sure how Shiro has any energy left, but he’s not about to question it.

Sleep tugs at Keith and he gives in, aching but satisfied and more sated than he's felt in a while.



It’s not on his list of favourite ways to wake up, so Keith doesn’t hold back any of the grumbling he does when Shiro shakes him awake.

“Leave me alone,” Keith says, half asleep, and Shiro pulls at the blanket he has wrapped tight around him. Keith flips onto his back and throws an arm over his face dramatically while Shiro stands, watching with an amused expression.

He must have slept like the dead, because Keith shifts his thighs and feels significantly less stickier than he expected, meaning Shiro had wiped him down while he was out.  The sheets are still damp under him, but he and Shiro have historically not cared about that.

“You need to shower,” Shiro says, tugging at Keith’s arms. “We need to get to dinner before someone comes looking for us.”

Keith’s legs can't move without shaking, but he’s still got upper body strength that he uses to grab at Shiro’s arms and pull him down on top of him. It helps that Shiro follows happily, crawling onto the bed and pecking Keith on the cheeks. Keith flips them over, and settles his weight on Shiro’s torso, folding his arms and resting his head on top of Shiro’s chest.

“I’m going to stay right here,” he says, closing his eyes. “I only came out of the healing pod yesterday, you know. I think I might have to go back in.”

“Sorry,” Shiro replies, and cards a hand through Keith’s hair.

“I liked it,” Keith grins, closing his eyes to enjoy the gentle scalp massage. Keith purrs, and lifts his chin to push up into a kiss. It’s slow and lazy and sweet, and Keith could care less about eating. Shiro wraps his arms around him and squeezes him in a tight hug, causing Keith to laugh into his mouth.

There's a small gurgling sound, and they both glance down in between them.

“That wasn't me,” they both say simultaneously, and look back at each other with narrow eyes.

“You need to eat,” Shiro says. “And shower.”

“I'm not going to move,” Keith states. “You either carry me or we stay here.”

They both know that Shiro will happily haul Keith over his shoulder and shove him into the showers, but Shiro gives him a flat expression anyways.

“Lazy,” he prods, and Keith scoffs.

“You can't blame me for it,” He says as Shiro starts to move. “It's your fault I'm like this.”

Shiro sits up, moving Keith here and there till Keith's on his lap with his legs wrapped around his waist.

“Don't snark me next time,” Shiro says, and shifts Keith's arms so that they're hooked around his neck. “And if you're going to cannonball onto an enemy, at least let me know so that I can follow you.”

The last sentiment is too sweet for Keith to protest, so he tries instead to convince Shiro with a kiss as Shiro stands up with Keith in his arms.

It doesn't work, but Keith sees how Shiro’s shoulders are relaxed at the dining table, how he speaks with lesser tension and doesn't have a vein throbbing on his forehead. He even gives a genuine laugh at someone's shitty joke, his face looking younger and more carefree.

Keith tries not to look too smug and self-satisfied about it.