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Stars in Slow Motion

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Shiro cushions his head on Keith’s stomach. They’re both looking up at the skylight, watching the stars amble past in a slow orbit as Atlas circles Earth. Keith’s fingers are threaded in Shiro's hair, petting absently.

It feels safe, like this— lying on his back, body utterly vulnerable and relaxed, and Keith’s nails scritching gently at his scalp, thumbs circling in the spots just behind his ears. (Keith likes his ears. Shiro knows this, has heard Keith tell him plenty of times— has felt Keith kiss his ear and giggle to himself, whispering, They’re so dumb looking.)

Shiro watches the stars and then laughs a little, turning his head to press his mouth against Keith’s stomach, where his shirt’s ridden up to expose his skin.

“What?” Keith asks, his voice a low, relaxed hum.

“Up there. The stars,” Shiro explains.

“What about them?”

“That’s Scorpio,” Shiro elaborates, pointing upward at the splay of constellations out beyond the skylight’s viewport.

“Oh God,” Keith groans. He flops his head back against the pillow and swats at Shiro’s head without any force and without any heat. “Don’t even start.”

“I’m not, I’m not,” Shiro protests, laughing. He’s quiet for a moment and then grins, humming playfully. “… I wonder if Alteans have a zodiac. Maybe we should ask Coran what his sign is.”

Keith gives him a look, something that’s meant to be sharp but betrays his amusement instead. He’s handsome, Shiro thinks, but that’s not a new thought and it’s not the first time he’s thought it even within the last hour. Still, he tugs his attention away from the stars entirely in favor of focusing on Keith— on the arch of his brow, the shine of his eyes, the quirk of his mouth. Beautiful.

“Please don’t use a pick-up line on Coran,” Keith says. He does his best to adopt an impression of Shiro’s voice, and fails spectacularly: “Hey Coran… what’s your sign?” He wrinkles his nose. “Ugh.”

“Don’t worry,” Shiro’s laughing, can’t help it, and presses his chin down against Keith’s hip as he looks up at him. Keith’s fingers twist absently into his hair. “Coran’s not really my type.”

Keith snorts and says nothing in favor of giving him a little glare. It doesn’t quite land, since he looks amused, his mouth hinting a smile as he looks at Shiro. His thumb touches the spot just behind Shiro’s ear that always makes Shiro shiver.

“Wow,” Keith says, dry. “I’m shocked.”

Shiro chuckles and nuzzles at Keith’s hip, pushing his shirt up over his chest so he can press one kiss to the line of his abs, just above his belly button. It takes all his self-restraint not to blow a raspberry, because he is a respectable and responsible captain of a sentient robot ship the size of a small city, and he is Above such things.

That, or he knows Keith will kick him out of the bed if he does that, and he likes being pressed up against him like this.

“Hey,” Shiro says, once the silence settles comfortably around them and Keith’s resumed playing with his hair. “You’re my type.”

“I hadn’t noticed,” Keith mutters, going for biting but only looking fond.

Still, Keith's cheeks stain pink for a moment, thoughtful, his mouth quirking into that sweet little smile that Shiro loves and knows is reserved just for him. Keith never smiles like this at anyone else.

Keith’s hand tangles up in Shiro’s hair and holds. “So, are you actually going to do something down there or are you waiting for an invitation?”

Shiro presses his mouth to Keith’s hip and sucks a bruising kiss there, dragging his teeth once with the briefest sting of a bite, his eyes amused when he looks back up at Keith again, daring and challenging.

“That’s not a very nice way to ask, baby,” Shiro teases.

“Makes sense, since I’m not very nice,” Keith returns. Normally, Shiro would protest— say something saccharine and overly earnest because it’d make Keith blush— but he doesn’t get a chance before Keith’s tugging on his hair with one hand, the other reaching down to undo the belt of his trousers. “Come on, Shiro. Come closer.”

And Shiro’s never been one to disobey such an invitation, in the end— has wanted, for so long, to always be closer to Keith. He likes it when Keith takes what he wants, just reaching to grab Shiro’s hair and guide him forward to the ruddy head of his cock, sighing out only once Shiro gets his mouth on him.

Even now, being able to hold Keith whenever he wants, being able to kiss him on the bridge after a job well done and not shock the masses, it feels like something out of a dream. Come closer, Keith always urges— and Shiro always falls, lets himself get caught in his orbit. He’s Phobos, orbiting Mars and inching closer every year, only to, ultimately, be ripped apart and sent crashing down to the planet’s surface.

He pushes Keith’s hand away and reaches for his pants himself, shimmying them down Keith's hips for him, along with his underwear. Keith’s still soft but that’s never stopped Shiro before. Honestly, Shiro appreciates the head start since he's already half-hard; he doesn’t have Keith’s astoundingly short recovery period, after all. He doesn’t doubt that Keith’ll perk up quickly, especially once Shiro’s mouth is on him.

Shiro presses a kiss to his stomach again, below his belly button now. He wants to say something absurd— like how Keith’s eyes reflect the constellations above, or even just that he loves him. Sometimes— so often, if he’s honest— he looks at Keith and can’t believe he gets to have this. Sometimes, when his mouth is pressed to the curve of Keith’s cock, he’ll say he loves him and Keith still looks just as surprised as Shiro feels, to be here with him, together.

He cups Keith’s cock and lifts it, taking it into his mouth in one deft swallow. He holds it there for a moment and it’s— different. He’s never sucked Keith into hardness before, and it’s a strange but nice feeling. Keith is smaller like this and he can pull his whole mouth around him easily.

For a moment, he doesn’t even move, doesn’t even stroke his tongue or pillow his lips. He just holds Keith’s cock in his mouth and focuses on that feeling. Keith is all around him, his body pulling taut like a bow beneath him, his legs spreading to make room for Shiro to rest there. His hand tightens in Shiro's hair and holds. Shiro hears Keith’s breath hitch, then sigh. He feels Keith’s cock twitch against his tongue.

Shiro likes it— the weight of Keith’s cock in his mouth. If he’s honest, he just likes Keith’s cock. It’s a good size— enough to make his jaw ache but not impossible to swallow to the root if he focuses. It’s curved and pretty, sometimes twinging a hint of purple if he looks at it in the right light, the flared head less oblong and more symmetrical, like a rounded, blunt edge.

He sighs out through his nose, shifting closer so that he swallows Keith in one go, soft against his tongue but beginning to stir. His nose brushes against Keith’s body. He slides his tongue along the underside, coaxing it to wakefulness.

He stills again, not quite sure why he does, other than a desire to hold Keith close like this. To feel him move, to shift against him. There’s something trusting in this, something pleasant and comforting— like he’s held in all ways by Keith, anchored and corporeal.

“Shiro,” Keith whines, and Shiro loves when his voice goes gravelly like that, deep and open and vulnerable— demanding in his own way. “You’re not moving.”

But Shiro wants to tease him, wants to keep holding Keith gently like this. He touches Keith’s hips and pins him down, mouthing over his cock. It’s hardening up in his mouth now, swelling and twitching as Shiro slides his tongue over him and turns his head, letting Keith nudge against his cheek and hold there.

He’d say something now, if his mouth weren’t full. He’d tease. He’d praise. He’d do any manner of things, but instead he has to content himself conveying his love for Keith without words. He squeezes his hips then slides down over his thighs, spreading his legs open and breathing out through his nose. He looks up at Keith— catches that fond annoyance he knows so well— and hopes that Keith can see what he isn’t saying reflected in his eyes.

“I can’t tell if you’re being cute or just trying to tempt me into fucking your mouth,” Keith mutters, his hands sliding through Shiro’s hair in that way that always makes Shiro want to whine, his eyes fluttering closed. He melts against the touch, especially once Keith palms back his hair away from his forehead. “Shiro,” Keith whispers, soft and fond and loving, and Shiro opens his eyes to look up at him. “Shiro… tell me what you want.”

Shiro wants so many things, so many of which he can’t put to words. He wants to tease Keith over the edge and he wants Keith to fuck his mouth. He likes it when Keith uses him, leaves his voice scratchy and graveled out— likes the blatant way it sounds when he’s on the bridge the next day, that whenever he issues a command to the Paladins, Keith’s response is always that flirty, knowing, Yes, Sir.

But he likes to tease, too. He likes the idea of holding Keith here in his mouth for hours, feeling Keith grow soft against him and coaxing him back into getting hard just from his breath, his tongue, his lips. He likes the idea of having Keith so near, so unguarded against him— to be Keith’s and for Keith to be his.

“Can’t talk with your mouth full?” Keith asks and Shiro giggles despite himself. Keith rolls his eyes. He cups Shiro’s jaw and tugs him up to the angle he wants. “Come here.”

Shiro lets his mouth fall open and lets Keith fuck into his mouth. He groans, feeling the slide of Keith’s cock over his tongue, the flex of his thighs against Shiro’s hands. He loves this part, loves that power Keith holds in his body, executed with precision and care, never pushing too far or too deep, never taking more than what Shiro’s offering him.

He moans softly as he swallows around Keith’s cock, feels the heavy weight and slide of it against his mouth. He hollows his cheeks, widens his mouth as he slackens his jaw. He lets out something like a whimper as he closes his mouth around the cockhead and suckles, looking up at Keith with big, hopeful eyes.

Keith laughs, breathless and flushed, his fingers tangled in Shiro’s hair. He whispers his name, soft and reverent, and Shiro shivers as he squirms closer, as he swallows around him, pillowing his lips and mouthing at his cockhead, curling his tongue along the flared head.

He’s addicted to this feeling— Keith all around him, Keith inside his mouth, tasting him, feeling him. He shivers with each of Keith’s encouraging moans, something private and meant only for Shiro. He paws at Keith’s hips, cups them and guides him up to rock into his mouth more, setting that pace.

“Shiro,” Keith gasps, a plea and absolution, and Shiro’s never going to stop feeling overfull with just the sound of his name on Keith’s tongue.

He pulls back enough to mouth along his cock, tongue sliding, tasting his precome on his lips. He sighs out against him, feels Keith’s cock twitch. Its color has the slightest hint of lavender today and Shiro loves that part, loves that he can draw it out of Keith. Sometimes, Keith’s eyes slit when he comes, and Shiro loves getting him to let go like that.

He curls his fingers around the base of Keith’s cock, the other hand fondling his balls as he licks and sucks over him, drawing out every little gasp and groan from Keith’s lips. He twists and tugs his hand, feels that slick feeling of his skin against skin. He kisses the tip of his cock and looks up at him.

It’s too empty, though, and soon he takes Keith back into his mouth, swallows and suckles all around him. He’s good at this part. He knows that Keith’s increasing volume isn’t just for show, and that’s always a stroke to the ego, but really he just wants to make him feel good, wants Keith to feel even a molecule of the joy Shiro feels just being there with him, being able to taste and touch him.

“Shiro,” Keith whispers again, this time a warning, a small tug on his hair. It’s perfunctory at best— they both know Shiro likes to swallow Keith’s come, and it’s more a warning for him to prepare than any real suggestion that Shiro pull away.

Shiro suckles around him, hands guiding Keith’s hips up. When Keith comes, it’s a slow wave, nothing like a punch or a quick thing. It rolls over Keith slowly, his eyes slitting first, his grip tightening second, and then the pulse of Keith’s cock in his mouth, that taste of come over his tongue. It’s a lot, and Shiro drinks it all down with a pleased, greedy moan.

He doesn’t pull away, even once Keith comes down from his orgasm, even once Shiro swallows the come in his mouth with a soft sigh. He feels Keith’s cock go soft in his mouth, feels Keith squirm a little as he turns towards hypersensitive. He half expects Keith to shove him away, but he doesn’t.

His fingers pet through his hair and then just cup the back of his head, holding him gently without any force. Shiro can pull away whenever he wants. But he doesn’t. Shiro doesn’t move his mouth, just lets Keith wilt against his tongue. Shiro sighs out through his nose, his body relaxing at the feeling of Keith there. There’s comfort in it— he doesn’t want to draw away yet.

“Shiro,” Keith whispers, after a few moments of silence, in which they just breathe. Keith still sounds breathless, and his fingers slide across the back of his neck. “You’re too far away.”

Shiro can’t ignore such a statement, the quiet need threaded throughout that Keith doesn’t put voice to— but Shiro hears all the same. He pulls away from Keith’s cock with only a little regret, and angles up towards him.

“Keith. Sweetheart,” he whispers in greeting and lets Keith kiss him, to taste himself on Shiro’s tongue.

When they break the kiss, Shiro ducks his head to nuzzle at his neck and kiss his shoulder, only stopping when Keith chuckles and tugs him back up again.

“What’s gotten into you?” Keith asks, voice quiet and fond as he strokes Shiro’s face.

Shiro doesn’t know how to answer that, doesn’t know how to put what he wants, what he needs, into words.

So he settles for leaning in to kiss Keith, his voice moony and hoarse when he whispers, “I love you. You’re so beautiful.”

And Keith chuckles that embarrassed, soft chuckle he always does whenever Shiro compliments him after sex. He never quite accepts the compliment— and someday, Shiro hopes that he will— but at least now he doesn’t outright deny it. Instead, he folds Shiro into his arms and kisses him more deeply, mouthing out his own praise to Shiro in turn.

 

-

 

He thinks about it again, a few nights later, while he’s buried inside Keith. He’s finished and he’s about to pull out when Keith locks his legs around his waist and holds tight.

“It’s okay,” Keith murmurs, reaching for him and tugging him down. He presses a fleeting, feather-light kiss over his mouth. “Stay. Don’t leave.”

“Oh,” Shiro whispers, going breathless.

Shiro doesn’t really know how to put to words the ache inside him, that desire to stay pressed there to Keith, to become part of him. But Keith wraps his legs easily around his hips and holds. Shiro sinks down, wishing he could melt entirely into Keith.

Keith touches his face, something gentle but vulnerable on his face— still tentative, as if Shiro’s going to pull away from him.

“What’s wrong?” Shiro asks.

“I’m stupid,” Keith whispers.

“You’re not,” Shiro answers, hovering, then pressing closer to kiss his face, nosing at his cheek.

It’s something like safety, if he has to put it into words. But even that doesn’t fully explain it. Shiro feels Keith shift and squirm against him and then proceeds to stop thinking. He’s still soft inside Keith but he feels Keith’s cock twitch and plump up between them.

He reaches down to curl his hand gently around it and stroke him to fullness. Keith makes that little cry that Shiro loves and swallows Shiro’s answering moan in a deep kiss. Keith’s fingertips fan over his jaw, catch there and drag him closer.

“I want…”

“Tell me,” Shiro prompts, when Keith trails off and doesn’t resume the thought.

“Mmm,” Keith hums, biting at Shiro’s mouth and then smoothing his tongue along the swell of his bottom lip. “I want— to always be a part of you.”

“You are,” Shiro murmurs. He wants to lick Keith’s teeth, bite at his tongue. He wants to get fully absorbed by him. Maybe that’s a weird thing to think. Shiro doesn’t care.

Keith laughs, soft and fond, and cups Shiro’s cheek. Holds him down close to him. Kisses him until he goes breathless.

 

-

 

Two days later, the Paladins suit up to disembark the Atlas to help a neighboring planet— what would be a month’s journey without wormholes made faster thanks to Allura. The Atlas would be the first choice for the mission, but it’s a matter of dispelling an incoming meteor shower made of asteroids far too large for the little moon colony to survive, and Voltron is more maneuverable than Atlas, despite Atlas’ superior firepower. There’re rumors of raiders hiding in the asteroid field, the reason it’s knocked off course at all and started hurtling towards the moon.

“Be safe,” Shiro says, voice quiet, when Keith turns to leave the bridge, when he really means come back to me.

What Shiro really means is please don’t die. What he means is, don’t go where I can’t follow. He has no right to ask it of Keith, considering how often he’s fallen beyond a veil Keith couldn’t pass through. And yet.

Keith pauses and then falls back into his space, hand lifting to touch his cheek. Keith doesn’t promise— is never one to offer a promise or words he can’t fulfill, promises he can’t willingly promise with certainty. Shiro doesn’t mind that, because it means he can trust when, in their bed at night, Keith murmurs I’m here, I’m not going anywhere against Shiro’s parted lips as he strokes him to completion.

It means not being able to think for too long about all the things Keith would do for him, has done for him. Just to keep him safe.

It’s just an asteroid belt knocked loose towards a little planet, a little solar system without a large planet like Jupiter to fling away the things that would crush the smaller objects.

Still, Keith’s hand on his cheek is soft. His thumb swipes once and he leans in, pressing their foreheads together. It’s a startling display for something like the bridge, but the crew around him is likely used to such displays because no one makes a comment. He thinks he hears Lance give a solitary, pointed cough that stops midway through thanks to an elbow, likely from Pidge.

It’s a wayward anxiety— one that, Shiro knows, he has no right to feel, considering all the times Shiro hasn’t been safe, all the times that he’s left Keith’s side and nearly never returned. It isn’t really about the asteroids or whatever it is Voltron’s needed for. It’s the thought of Keith leaving his side, it’s that ache in his chest when Keith is too far away— almost like the phantom pain he still feels, sometimes, for an arm that’s no longer there.

But still, he feels it, and still Keith accepts it. He kisses Shiro once, just a slide of their mouths together, before he’s stepping back with a quiet, “Captain.”

He turns and calls out his orders to the Paladins, and they head off towards their Lions. Shiro watches them go.

The feeling doesn’t go away, not even once the Paladins are successful, once they’re back on board. It was quick work. It’s hardly the most terrifying or dangerous thing they’ve faced in their years since joining this fight. But the feeling sizzles beneath the surface of Shiro’s skin, crawling up his spine. He can’t shake it off, not even once Keith, inevitably, notices his mood and crowds him up against a wall out in the hallway and presses full-bodied to him.

“Shiro,” he whispers against his throat as his teeth drag. Keith’s always been a biter and Shiro loves that about him, loves when he’s marked enough that one peeks out from beneath his collar.

But he still feels on edge, his body trembling even as he reaches for Keith and holds him tight.

Keith pulls away only enough to tug him into an unoccupied room and kneels in front of Shiro, getting his belt undone and his cock into his mouth, worshipping him with his mouth and his tongue.

Shiro’s fingers tangle in Keith’s hair but all he can think about is the warmth of his mouth, the slide of his tongue, how easily Keith holds him steady. How good he looks, eyes glancing up at Shiro, wanting to get him to relax, wanting him to be happy— responding to the anxiety Shiro can’t put voice to and drawing him closer and closer to the edge, telling him, again and again, that it’s safe to do so.

Keith’s hands are dexterous, callused and beautiful. He strokes Shiro as he dips his mouth down over the length of his cock. In this he is patient, drawing out panting gasps from Shiro’s throat. Shiro tightens his hold in his hair.

It’s an odd thought, with Keith sucking on his cock, to think about going soft in his mouth and just being held there. It’s a rarity where Keith doesn’t get him devastatingly hard in a matter of moments— like he’s a teenager again learning what it means to like a boy. He loves that Keith is always, always ready for him, always willing to hold him.

He can’t help but think about it— kneeling in front of Keith next, sucking him off until he comes and then just holding him there, his tongue pressed against the line of his cock, unhurried and still. Thinks about Keith pressing his cock deep down his throat, his nose brushing against his belly. Going limp and soft, enveloped by Keith’s mouth.

His hips stutter in a jerky thrust. Shiro’s orgasm takes him by surprise. He doesn’t have time to even warn Keith. He jerks forward and then he comes, gasping around the thought of Keith limp in his mouth, and his hand tightens hard in Keith’s hair.

Keith chokes in surprise, nearing backing entirely off Shiro’s cock. He looks up at Shiro in surprise even as Shiro tries to tug him off, to give him room to breathe, moaning as he comes but so, so damn embarrassed to have come so quickly and without warning.

“Wow,” Keith says as he pulls off, swallowing the come in his mouth and peering up at Shiro. “Hi?”

“Shit,” Shiro mutters, pressing a hand to his face, his blush starting at his ears and ending somewhere beneath his collar. He’s never going to stop being red. “I’m so sorry, Keith. I—”

“You were excited,” Keith dismisses, because he’s always understanding of everything when it comes to Shiro. His hand is steady and sure against Shiro’s heaving belly. Keith swipes his thumb over his lip and lapping up a stray bead of come Shiro left there. “Shiro?”

Shiro tries not to choke when he answers, “Yeah?”

“I…” Keith begins then trails off, shaking his head. “Hmm. Never mind.”

“I really am sorry,” Shiro mutters.

“It’s not that.”

Shiro wants to press it, but then Keith lifts and crowds into his space, kissing him so that Shiro can taste himself on Keith’s tongue.

“Never knew you’d be so happy to see me,” Keith teases, and Shiro sighs, his entire face red but unable to say a word about it— much less the reason for it.

 

-

 

“Hey,” Keith murmurs, voice ghosting against his shoulder. “You still here?”

Shiro doesn’t startle but does seem to snap back into himself. He’s stretched out on the bed with Keith, working on some paperwork, the datapad slack in his hand.

“Sorry. Yeah. Just drifted for a moment,” Shiro says, apologetic. He turns towards Keith and finds him peering at him. “I’m sorry. Were you talking to me?”

“No,” Keith says, both dismissing the apology and answering the question. He plucks the PADD from Shiro’s hand and sets it aside, though, and then swings himself up into Shiro’s lap.

That gets Shiro’s attention. He blinks and looks at him with a small half-smile as Keith squirms and settles. Shiro’s hands find Keith’s hips and hold.

“I see. This is what you wanted?” Shiro teases.

“Very funny,” Keith dismisses with a roll of his eyes. He brushes the hair away from Shiro’s face, his expression softening. He keeps doing that lately— it ruins any sort of attempt at heat or haughtiness Keith tries, but Shiro doesn’t mind. Keith’s cute.

Shiro lets his hands slide up beneath Keith’s shirt. “All this time, and you’re just using me for my body… I knew it.”

Keith scoffs and tips Shiro’s head back as he leans in and kisses him hard, dragging his teeth over his bottom lip. Shiro laughs into the kiss, which just makes Keith bite and then suck on his tongue pointedly.

It has the opposite effect— unless Keith’s hope was to get Shiro shifting a little beneath him. Still, it’s a comforting weight in his lap, Keith’s presence calm and soothing, anchoring him down against their bed. He sighs into Keith’s kiss, liking that feeling of fullness.

“I know you don’t… like drifting like that,” Keith murmurs against his mouth, earnest and sweet.

Shiro sighs and kisses him, a few quick pecks against his mouth before he pulls back and smiles at him. “Thanks, Keith.”

Keith nods, brushing his fingers through his hair, tracing his fingertips down along the line of his jaw. “Was it important? The paperwork. I can stop distracting you.”

Shiro’s answer is to slip his hands more pointedly up Keith’s chest, bunching up his shirt as he goes. Keith laughs and pulls his arms up so that Shiro can strip him down, tossing the shirt away easily. Shiro smiles and runs his hands appreciatively down Keith’s chest, tracing the faint scars criss-crossing his body.

“You’re far more interesting than any paperwork.”

“Wow, what an honor,” Keith drawls, but he’s smiling. He kneads his fingers into Shiro’s shoulders, digging his thumbs in. He ducks his head and presses a gentle kiss against Shiro’s neck.

“Mm… Keith?” Shiro murmurs.

“Yeah?” Keith answers, lifting his head to press a kiss first to the crook of Shiro’s jaw and then his cheek, nuzzling and humming out when Shiro turns his head to kiss him.

“Can I…?”

Keith huffs a laugh, his hands dropping down between them to tug at Shiro’s sweats. “Yeah. Yeah, Shiro. Please.”

Shiro lifts his hips and lets Keith shuck them down his thighs. With some squirming and maneuvering, Shiro manages to wriggle out of his clothes without having to move Keith from his lap. It’s a little trickier to get Keith naked when he’s straddling Shiro’s lap, but they manage.

He likes the way Keith looks, like this, hands kneading into Shiro’s shoulders, his hair falling to frame his face— longer now, curling at his neck— his body slim but strong under Shiro’s hands. He touches Keith’s waist, his fingers skimming the line of his ribs, his chest.

Keith lets Shiro turn them and push him onto his back, sprawling out on the bed and smiling up at him. Shiro likes the way Keith looks beneath him, that flex of his belly, the sprawl of his hair across the pillow, the soft way he looks up at him as Shiro ducks over him. He presses a kiss to his mouth and keeps it short, shallow— not pushing too deep.

He sweeps his hands over Keith and kisses down his neck, bites at his collarbone. It’s easy to interrupt any thoughts that might knock at the back of his mind when he can just focus on Keith, just focus on making him feel good. Like this, it’s easy to forget there could be anything else in the universe beyond Keith.

Shiro likes looking at Keith as he opens him up, twisting his fingers inside of him, likes watching the flush fall over his face, the impatience start to rise. Keith can be patient, when he wants to be, but like this Shiro always aims for the moment when he’ll start squirming.

He’s two-fingers deep inside Keith when he hears Keith giggle, interrupting his enthusiastic moaning. Shiro glances up from where he’s been peppering his stomach with kisses to watch Keith blush and cover his face with his arm, his mouth curved in an embarrassed smile.

“What is it?” Shiro asks, kissing his hip. He twists his fingers just to hear Keith gasp, just so his hips will stutter.

Keith rolls his eyes. “It’s stupid. I… God. I looked up and—”

He jerks his chin up and Shiro looks. He isn’t sure what he’s looking for at first, but then he sees it— a lopsided Scorpio. Its placement in the sky is all wrong and the constellation looks a little wonky, considering their galactic positions skews the cosmic starfield from what they’re used to seeing in Earth’s orbit.

“I thought you’d laugh if you saw it, too,” Keith mutters. He’s blushing. “It’s stupid.”

“Aww…” Shiro teases again, putting emphasis on the word so it drips with sugar. He twists his fingers inside Keith and says, “Babe.

“Shut up,” Keith answers, without much heat, and rocks his hips down against his hand. “I—” He bites his lip. “You’ve been drifting off a lot lately.”

Shiro pauses and then forces himself to sigh out. Keith touches his cheek.

“Yeah. Sorry. A lot’s been on my mind,” Shiro confesses. Nothing definitive, nothing he can really put to words— just that anxiety, just that desire to keep Keith closer to him.

Keith hums, stroking his thumb over his cheek. “What can I do? To help you.”

Shiro shakes his head and turns his head, pressing his lips against the center of Keith’s palm. “You’re here. That’s enough. That’s… always going to be enough, Keith.”

Keith looks disbelieving— not that Shiro would feel that way, but that it would be the only thin Keith can offer. Shiro knows that about Keith— how he’ll go above and beyond, if Shiro lets him.

He ducks down and kisses Keith, sweet and simple. He whispers, “Let me just focus on you.”

Keith almost grumbles against his mouth, but sighs instead. He studies Shiro’s face. Then, his shoulders slump and something eases into his face.

“Does that mean you’re going to fuck me properly now?” He squirms. “I’m tired of waiting, Shiro.”

Shiro smoothes his other hand up Keith’s thigh and squeezes, lifting himself up to hover over Keith, blocking his view of the stars. He smiles at him, sappy and moony and embarrassing, and Keith blushes, but smiles back— something tentative in his eyes.

Shiro wants to hold this moment forever. He wants to always be here, with Keith— never parted.

He swallows and then leans in, kissing him with deceptive sweetness. Keith sighs and cups his cheek, kissing him back. Must feel what Shiro doesn’t say.

“Hey,” Shiro whispers, when they part the kiss. Shiro tips forward, pressing their foreheads together as he pulls his fingers out from inside Keith.

Keith lets out a little keen. “What?”

“Can I… Will you let me try something?” Shiro asks, blushing. He pulls Keith’s legs up to drape in his arms, maneuvering him into the position he wants, lifting his hips. Keith wriggles and gets comfortable, relaxed in Shiro’s touch, sure of Shiro’s movements.

“Sure,” Keith says.

“You don’t want to know what?”

Keith shrugs and loops his arms over Shiro’s shoulders, tugging him in close, wriggling until he feels Shiro’s cock slide up against him. He heaves a breath, his chest expanding, and then sighs, eyes fluttering shut as Shiro rocks his hips forward just enough for his cock to tease at his rim.

“I just want you,” Keith says, entirely too soft and earnest, and Shiro feels the heat of his blush touch all the way up to his ears. “I want whatever you want, Shiro. I’ll tell you if I don’t like it.”

Shiro nods, and presses into Keith with a few shallow thrusts, pushing inside slowly. It isn’t the first time he’s been inside Keith, and Keith can always take him, but he’s always cautious. He always goes slow.

“What do you want me to—” Keith starts but Shiro interrupts him, kissing him hard as he rocks his hips forward. Keith keens, mouth falling open against the kiss.

“Let me take care of you, babe,” Shiro says against Keith’s mouth, swallowing Keith’s small, hitching breaths. He starts rocking into him and Keith’s legs flex and then shift, wrapping tight around his waist and ankles locking together at the small of his back.

Shiro,” Keith grunts, and he’s so impatient sometimes— Shiro loves that about Keith, too. How he’s already ready to pull Shiro over the edge, caution be damned. “Stop going slow.”

Shiro likes sex and he likes sex with Keith, but it’s more than that— it’s pressing chest to chest and feeling Keith’s heartbeat. It’s kissing Keith sloppy until he’s panting against his lips, breath ghosting over his skin. It’s holding Keith afterwards and hearing him whisper Shiro’s name like it’s the only word in any language he knows.

And Shiro listens— starts a harder pace. Keith opens his body up to Shiro and Shiro pushes in, rocks against him. He feels Keith all around him— his arms and his legs wrapped tight, his breath panting against Shiro’s mouth, the feeling of his cock buried deep inside Keith. He’s drowning, and he’s never going to get used to this feeling, either. There’s safety, always, in having Keith so close.

It’s laying worship to Keith and his body— knowing that Keith trusts him to do this, to always take him over that edge and leap with him.

The friction builds and Shiro comes as soon as Keith clenches around him and swivels his hips. Shiro ducks his head and grunts, his body shuddering as he empties inside of Keith. Keith makes a sound, a plea and encouragement, and digs his nails into the back of Shiro’s neck as he yanks him in and kisses him sloppily.

Once Shiro catches his breath, he curls his hand between them and strokes Keith off until he’s coming with a cry against Shiro’s mouth, spilling across his fingertips.

Keith catches his breath, gulping down deep breaths of air, and opens his eyes to smile up at Shiro, looking fucked-out and happy. Shiro beams back at him, his heart twisting up in his chest.

“Hi, Handsome,” he says, completely helpless.

“You’re so embarrassing,” Keith answers, laughing. His cheeks are that pretty pink that Shiro loves. Keith sighs, relaxed beneath him. “Mm… did I miss the thing you wanted to try?”

“Oh,” Shiro says, blushing. “Uh.”

Keith peers up at him, brushing a hand over Shiro's face and pushing his bangs back from his face. He blinks up at Shiro, expectant.

Shiro doesn’t pull out. Shiro normally would have by this point— would start cleaning them up, cuddling up to Keith until Keith gets it up again. Then Shiro would probably suck him off or let Keith finger him open to fuck him next.

Instead, Shiro pushes deeper. Sensitive so soon after coming, Keith whines, tipping his chin up.

“Mmm,” Keith sighs. “Shiro… what are you doing?”

“I just—” Shiro fumbles, feels himself blush more. “I just want to see.”

“See what?” Keith asks, sounding sleepy and sated. He plays with pieces of Shiro’s hair, fingertips brushing along his ear. Shiro shivers. Keith hums out, soft, “Just staying in there until you get hard again? You’re getting lazy, Old Timer.”

“Oh yeah? Well, you should respect your elders,” Shiro shoots back and Keith grins at him, beautiful and ethereal, his teeth hinting at fangs.

Shiro still can’t describe the feeling. He feels himself start to soften inside Keith, going limp, and it’s strange, not as tight but just as warm. He can feel his come still inside Keith. He can feel Keith all around him.

Keith shifts, starting to draw away.

“Wait,” Shiro says, but it comes out as a strained, pathetic whisper.

Keith stops immediately and looks up at Shiro.

“It feels nice,” Shiro finally admits, face bright red.

Keith studies his face, curious, and then breathes out a soft laugh, almost embarrassed. “This is what you like?”

“I… I mean. I haven’t really thought about it.”

Keith smiles. “Ha. When you said you wanted to try something I thought you meant like— spanking me or coming on my face.”

“Wha—” Shiro’s pretty sure his mind has short-circuited, ceasing to exist.

Keith takes pity on him and laughs. “I’m kidding, Shiro.”

“Oh,” Shiro says, his voice small.

Keith pushes Shiro's hair from his face again, chuckling and studying him. Then he reaches up and touches, too, fingertips skimming his jaw.

“But you could do those things, too,” Keith says after a moment. “If you wanted.”

Shiro can’t even be embarrassed by how hard he gets again, still buried inside Keith.

 

-

 

“Alright,” Keith says, slowly, lying on his side, his head propped up on his hand as he rests on his elbow. “So you… want to suck me off while I’m soft?”

“Uh,” Shiro says. “Basically?”

“… Okay,” Keith says after a moment, shrugging. His smile is shy. “Why?”

“I…” Shiro shrugs, too, embarrassed. “It feels nice. I mean. I like sucking you off.”

“Mm,” Keith agrees, smiling. “I like it, too.”

Shiro squirms up close and kisses Keith. Keith hums and accepts this, returning the kiss and hooking his leg over Shiro’s hip, pressing his body up against him.

“It’s— I want…” Shiro struggles for a moment, pulling back as Keith smiles at him, soft and encouraging. “I like being so close to you. That you trust me. I— that it’s not just sex.”

Keith considers this and then rolls them over so Shiro’s up on top of him. He smiles and spreads his legs.

“Well. Go on.”

Shiro scrambles down with embarrassing quickness. He gets his mouth on Keith’s cock, but it’s already half-hard. It chubs up a bit when Shiro breathes out, his sigh ghosting over the cockhead.

“Sorry,” Keith offers but Shiro shakes his head and swallows his cock into his mouth. Keith tips his head back and groans. “That’s the problem. I won’t stay soft, Shiro.”

Shiro pulls away from Keith’s thickening cock to look up at him. “Think of unsexy things?”

Keith rolls his eyes. “You obviously have no idea how damn hot you look between my legs.”

Shiro can’t help the embarrassed, pleased giggle that pulls from his throat. Helpless with love, he presses a kiss to Keith’s inner thigh.

“I’m serious, Shiro,” Keith mutters. “You have no idea how many fantasies started with you between my thighs.”

Shiro’s definitely red-faced as he ducks his head against Keith’s thigh, holding back a pathetic little laugh. “Keith.

“Right. Don’t think of my wet dreams,” Keith sighs. “Okay. Paperwork! Cold showers! Hmmm… Cacti?”

“Cacti are kinda phallic, though,” Shiro offers. He eyes Keith’s cock, definitely hard now.

“They’re prickly, Shiro!” Keith squawks.

Shiro laughs as Keith swats at him. They both look down at Keith’s cock, Shiro’s hand still wrapped around the base. It’s thick and full in his hand, a bead of precome at the tip.

“Hmm… Who knew you liked cacti so much, baby.”

“Shut up!” Keith barks out a laugh. “You’re the worst.”

“You love me.”

“Absolutely,” Keith mutters, humor still coloring an otherwise earnest response. “You’re still the worst.”

Shiro smiles up at him, moony. “I love you, too.”

He’s absurd. And maybe a little helplessly in love. He doesn’t mind it, though. He works his jaw for a moment, chewing on the inside of his cheek as he considers Keith’s hard cock.

“Okay,” he decides. “I’ll just have to get you off until you’re spent.”

Keith snorts, disbelieving. “I always can go more rounds than you, Shiro.”

“We’ve already established I like sucking you off,” Shiro returns, demure, and strokes Keith’s cock from root to tip, thumbing at his slit just to get Keith to hiss sweetly. “I’ll just keep going until you can’t anymore. I can handle it.”

There’s a challenge shining in Keith’s eyes as he smirks at him, propping himself up one elbow and reaching with his free hand to tangle in Shiro’s hair. “I don’t think you’ve ever been able to go long enough to actually wear me out.”

Shiro narrows his eyes, theatrically. “Is that a challenge, Paladin?”

“And if it was, Captain?” Keith asks, his grin wolfish.

And, well, Shiro’s never been one to back down from a challenge. He ducks his head and takes Keith’s cock deep into his mouth.

 

-

 

By the time Keith actually stays soft in his mouth, Shiro’s lost track of how many times he’s come. He’s swallowed it down obediently but Keith’s still a trembling mess beneath him, his bangs sweaty and clinging to his forehead, his body heaving with gulping breaths, his thighs trembling beneath one of Shiro’s palms.

Shiro’s not much better, his stomach a sticky mess from the few times he’s rubbed off against the sheets while Keith fucked his mouth.

“Shiro,” Keith pants, a plea with no anchor, just for the sake of saying Shiro’s name.

Shiro wants to respond, but he’s pretty sure he’s lost the ability to speak somewhere between the fourth and fifth orgasm, his throat raw and tingly from Keith’s thrusts.

Still, this is what he wanted, and he squirms up towards Keith’s cock and takes it in his mouth. Keith groans, oversensitive, but doesn’t shove Shiro’s face away. Instead, he relaxes beneath him, his fingers threading into his hair and holding him down against him.

Keith always feels good against his tongue, hard and demanding. But he’s smaller when he’s soft and Shiro loves that feeling, too. He likes the feeling of Keith’s hands plucking at his hair. He likes how gentle Keith’s cock rests against his tongue. He doesn’t twitch or thicken in his mouth and Shiro just focuses on housing him there, bathing him with his tongue and cleaning him up. Keith doesn’t even stir, his breathing shaky and rattling.

“Fuck,” Keith whispers. He blinks up at the skylight above them, that endless cosmic sky. Some of his hair is sticking up, disarrayed. He’s so beautiful.

Shiro curls along the cockhead, tongues at his foreskin just to hear Keith groan. He tugs weakly on Shiro’s hair.

It’s comfortable. Shiro thinks he could just pass out like this, Keith’s cock in his mouth, and it’d be perfect. A pleasant, comforting weight. The level of trust Keith gives him, just sprawled out beneath him like this, humoring him through his desires. His thumbs rub comforting circles against his scalp, just behind his ears.

He’d do anything for Keith. He’d give him the world. He’d give him everything.

Shiro contents himself with just mouthing at Keith’s cock, swallowing all around him and holding him in the valley of his mouth, then pulling back simply to mouth over him.

Then, midway through mouthing at Keith’s balls, Shiro feels Keith’s cock twitch against his cheek.

“God! Fuck, how can you possibly be getting me hard again?” Keith cries out, his voice edged and raw. Shiro turns his head and takes the tip of his cock in his mouth and suckles.

Shiro keens, taking pride in the fact that he can. His stomach might be roiling with all the come he’s swallowed already, threatening queasiness, but he loves this feeling most— holding Keith’s cock in his mouth until it thickens against his tongue.

“Fuck,” Keith says again, with feeling. “Shiro.

Keith cups his face— and oh, it aches, it’s so sore, his throat is so raw— and smoothes his thumbs gently along the thick line of his jaw.

Shiro pulls off his cock and looks up at him.

“I want,” Shiro whispers, his voice absolutely wrecked. He’s not going to be able to issue commands tomorrow at all. He’ll be shocked if he can raise his voice above a whisper. “Keith— can I— I want to fuck you—”

Keith whines out, his body shuddering, and tugs. His voice is little and aching when he whispers, “Please.”

 

-

 

Shiro’s voice is raspy as shit the next morning. Keith gives him a damning smirk, one of which Shiro’s sure everyone understands the meaning.

Still, Shiro can’t really regret it— and Keith’s devastating when he’s smug, when he’s confident from being well-fucked. Shiro wants to always give that to him.

 

-

 

“Okay,” Keith says, matter-of-fact, as he swirls his fingers through the come pooling on Shiro’s stomach. It’s leaving Shiro shivering, his entire body on fire so soon after coming. “I think the trick is that you have to just exhaust yourself and then let yourself recover inside me.”

“Fuck,” Shiro groans, his voice reedy.

“Language, Captain,” Keith scolds, smirking. That kind of smirk makes Shiro want to kiss him or just shove him down to choke on his cock and see how he likes it. He’s so damnably cute, it’s nearly unbearable sometimes.

Keith grins and swirls his fingers around his belly button and then moves down, grabbing and tugging gently on Shiro’s cock. He’s already half-hard and the touch is enough to get him to perk right up.

“Thought you might like that idea,” Keith says, triumphant, and swings his body up to straddle Shiro.

 

-

 

“Hey,” Keith asks, quiet, later that week (or what counts for a week in interstellar space). Shiro’s ears are ringing from the orgasm Keith’s wrung out of him, his head leaned back against the pillows and looking up at Keith, the stars glittering behind him as he blocks Shiro’s view of the skylight.

“Hey,” Shiro echoes and smiles.

Keith rolls his eyes, affectionately, and strokes his hands over Shiro’s chest. “You still with me?”

“Mmmhmmm,” Shiro hums, feeling sated and blissed out, smiling up at Keith. “You’re so pretty.”

Keith laughs, blushing. One hand curls into a loose fist and taps lightly against Shiro’s chest, just above his heart. “You sap.”

“That’s me,” Shiro agrees, not even embarrassed about it— he’s too dazed to care about much before smiling at the pretty man riding him with sex hair and soft eyes.

Shiro’s happy, though. He feels unanchored, but in the best way. Sex with Keith is always good, and Keith is always good. Lately, it’s been really good, with Keith willing to indulge him.

Tonight is no different, and Shiro feels floaty and happy, soft inside Keith as Keith strokes his hands over him. He closes his eyes, smiling.

“Drifting?” Keith asks and Shiro shakes his head. He hears Keith chuckle and shift. His movements are careful, slow, mindful not to dislodge Shiro’s cock from inside himself. Shiro feels Keith shift around above him and say, “I could stay like this for hours.”

He speaks the words slowly, against Shiro’s mouth. Shiro’s eyes snap open and he gasps a little as Keith bridges the gap and kisses him, sweet and gentle. He groans and arches, kissing him back. Keith is methodical, takes his time, his tongue sweeping into his mouth and tugging out soft, pleased sighs from Shiro’s throat. His fingers touch first his neck then sweep down, tracing his collarbone.

“Could get some paperwork done,” Keith continues, voice light and dismissive, even as he smiles at Shiro and presses his forehead to his. “Just let you lie here, let you feel me.”

“Keith,” Shiro whispers. His hands tremble when he lifts them to slide up Keith’s back. He’s too strung out from multiple orgasms to get hard so quickly, but the desire is there, already slowly pooling in his gut.

“Grab my datapad for me?” Keith asks, smiling, and Shiro sends his Altean hand off across the room to grab it.

Keith straightens again, rolling his hips back to sit more fully in the well of Shiro’s lap. Shiro whines, his smile stupid and lovestruck, likely. He grabs Keith’s datapad and returns it to him, holding it up.

“Thanks,” Keith says with a smile and settles in, tapping away on it. Shiro holds his breath for a moment, his chest flooding with affection, as Keith does exactly what he said— working on some paperwork with Shiro’s soft dick inside him.

Shiro sighs, his hands straying to Keith’s hips. He doesn’t try to get Keith to move, just luxuriates in the feeling of him above him, pressing his weight down to him, his cock buried inside him. Keith smiles to himself but doesn’t look up from his PADD, and Shiro trembles at that, too— watching Keith, relaxed and sexed out, uncaring about his position or Shiro beneath him. There’s that power in Keith that Shiro’s always loved, that easy way he pins Shiro down.

It feels good. It feels nice, to be pressed inside Keith like this, to just have this moment of being surrounded by him. He squeezes Keith’s hips and Keith smiles to himself, drops one hand down absently to squeeze his hand before returning to tapping away at his datapad.

Shiro doesn’t quite drift. He closes his eyes and just lets himself feel, but otherwise he feels completely present, completely focused on Keith. He doesn’t interrupt Keith. He wants to see, maybe, how long it takes Keith to get bored, to start rocking against him, to start squeezing around his cock and get him hard. Maybe he’s curious to know how long he can last, too.

After about twenty minutes, though, Keith does lower his PADD and looks at Shiro.

“Hey, Shiro?” Keith asks. Shiro hums, blinking up at him. But he watches Keith duck his head and bite his lip, fiddling with the edge of the datapad. Shiro isn’t sure where the fidgeting comes from, the sudden anxiety that touches the corners of his eyes, but he waits. But, a moment later, Keith sighs and says, “Never mind.”

Shiro frowns and sits up a little. “Hey,” he whispers, lifting his hand to cup Keith’s neck, fingers tangling in the longer bits of his hair. “You keep doing that. You know you can tell me, right? Whatever’s on your mind.”

Keith chuckles and leans into his touch, his hair spilling over his shoulder and Shiro’s hand. “Yeah. I know.”

Keith looks down at the PADD again and then sets it aside to reach for Shiro. He touches first his chest and then his shoulders, then sweeps one hand down over his bicep.

Shiro smiles at him, hoping it’s encouraging, and relaxes when Keith’s mouth tilts into a small smile.

“Sometimes,” Keith admits in a little voice, blinking down at him. “I can’t believe you’re mine. That— that this is real.”

“It’s real,” Shiro answers, immediate. “I’m here.”

Keith closes his eyes, nodding his head just barely— and leans down to press his forehead to Shiro’s. Shiro cups the back of his head and keeps him there.

“I feel it, too. Sometimes,” Shiro says, when he really means all the time, constantly.

Keith noses against him, sighing out. Shiro tips up and kisses him again, doesn’t relax until he feels Keith melt against him.

He contents himself with that, just kissing Keith slow and gentle. Eventually, though, Keith breaks the kiss and pulls back, his hands on Shiro’s chest. He smiles at him, his hair falling into his face.

“Would you ever marry me?” Keith asks, abrupt.

Shiro jerks in surprise, eyes widening. “W— Are you—”

He fumbles and Keith looks down at him, straddled over his lap, Shiro’s cock soft inside him, his hands splayed over Shiro’s chest. He’s beautiful and perfect and seemingly unconcerned about how he’s destroyed Shiro with just one question.

Shiro swallows. “… Keith,” his voice is breathless, “are you— are you asking me?”

Keith shakes his head, looking small for a moment, his eyelashes dipping. “I’m… just wondering. Hypothetically.”

“Okay,” Shiro whispers, his voice strangled. “So… hypothetically, would I marry you?”

Keith nods, staring at him. Shiro feels one hand curl against his chest, nails digging into Keith’s palm.

Yes,” Shiro answers, before he can let the silence lapse, before Keith can mistake his quiet. “Yes. Obviously. I would. I mean— if you wanted, that is—”

Keith’s expression softens, a relieved smile spreading across his face. “Oh.”

He sounds surprised. Shiro reaches for him, sits up and cups his face, tugging him down and kissing him.

“I’ve been thinking about it,” Keith admits, giving him a wobbly smile once they part from the kiss. “I… you know. Kind of. Just… dumb things. Like— like rings. Like, always waking up next to you.”

Shiro’s heart gives a little leap into his throat. “Me too.”

Keith smiles, warmed, reassured. “And… I don’t know. Just— being married, I guess.”

Shiro’s cock gives a betraying twitch inside of Keith. Keith must feel it because his eyebrows lift and he gives Shiro a vaguely startled look that quickly, tragically quickly, melts into something almost smugly relieved, if that can even be an expression.

“You like that.” He swivels his hips, pressing Shiro deeper inside him, his movements slow and purposeful, mindful not to let Shiro slip out of him.

Shiro swallows, his voice pathetically reedy when he answers, “I like— what you like.”

Keith’s fingernails dig into his chest and drag a little. He studies Shiro’s face when he says, “Just imagine it, Shiro.” His voice drops low when he adds, “You could call me your husband.”

Shiro’s heart does that pathetic little stampede thing it always does whenever Keith manages to effortlessly steal his breath. He gulps down a pathetic sip of air, his entire face flushing. His hands find Keith’s hips and hold tight.

“Wedding registry, joint checking account, a yard for the dogs. The whole thing,” Keith says, and he sounds breathless, too. The confidence cracks, just a little, a moment later— anyone else looking at Keith might see only his smug smirk, but Shiro can see beyond that, the fragile little hope kindling in his eyes. Keith says, quiet, “If… you wanted.”

Shiro sits up so fast he nearly knocks his head against Keith’s. He’s hard inside him now, fully, and his hands flex first at his hips and then lift to cup his face as he kisses him breathless. Keith lets out a surprised sound and then kisses him back, melting against him, draping his arms over Shiro’s shoulders.

Keith kisses him and wriggles his hips until Shiro is panting against his mouth. Keith pulls away, studying his face. He squeezes around Shiro’s cock inside him and smiles.

“… Fuck me until I cry,” Keith commands and he manages to make even that sound sweet.

Shiro obeys him. He doesn’t fuck him rough, likely the way Keith meant, but instead in a slow, punishing pace— dragging out slowly and rocking back in with deliberate ease, holding on the deep stroke in, buried inside him. Keith makes a little whine each time, even more so when, in that pause, Shiro’s hand slips between them and teases at his rim, the way his body stretches around Shiro’s cock.

He spends a long time just twisting his hand over Keith’s cock, swallowing every gasp and every groan, biting at Keith’s bottom lip and pulling him over that edge. Keith cries out when he comes, spasming in his hand and spilling out between their stomachs. He clenches down around Shiro’s cock and Shiro’s already so hard, so strung-out. It takes only a few haphazard strokes of his hips before he’s coming inside Keith with a gasp.

Keith hooks his arm around his neck and yanks him in, kissing him hard. Shiro lifts his hand and brushes away the tears beading there at the corner of his eye.

“This— this is really not how I thought about us getting engaged,” Shiro admits when they part. Then he blushes. “I mean— hypothetically.”

Keith gives him a small smile, tentative. “… You’ve thought about it, though?”

It’s a quiet little hope, but it’s one that cracks Shiro’s heart anyway. He crowds into Keith’s space and kisses him as hard as he can, pressing closer to him until Shiro is all around him, enveloping him.

“Baby,” he gasps, when he breaks the kiss, “Obviously.

Keith hiccups a little laugh, eyes looking watery for a heart-stopping moment. It clears a moment later and he smiles, touching Shiro’s cheek.

“You’re my everything,” Keith tells him, with that same casual weight he says anything like this— as if what he’s saying doesn’t turn Shiro’s world inside-out every time, as if he still doesn’t feel his heart leap every time Keith offers such easy, weighted affection.

It’s a lot, to be someone’s everything— and most days Shiro isn’t sure if he’s worthy of being so, no matter what Keith says. But hearing it will only ever make him feel floaty, will only ever make him want to do his best to be that for Keith.

Sometimes it still surprises him that such words can make him feel so wrung out— Keith has demonstrated, over and over again, how true the words are. He’s witnessed Keith cross the universe to get to him. He’s felt the heavy grief of Keith’s mind, connected through the Black Lion, those few times he was ware enough to feel Keith’s piloting. He knows.

There’s nothing Shiro could ever do or say that would ever feel adequate to Keith’s depth of loyalty and love.

“Me too. I—” It’s inadequate, it’ll never be good enough. But he pushes the words, sloppy on his tongue, in hopes they might be somehow good enough. “Keith. You’re everything.”

Keith makes a sound, soft and unspoken, something like a whimper. He arches and reaches for him and Shiro folds inward, letting Keith collect him into his arms.

“Marry me,” he whispers against the curve of Keith’s jaw.

“Yes,” Keith answers, voice soft.

“Be with me forever.”

“Yes,” Keith says again, pressing his face into Shiro’s neck, his breath watery and shaky as he laughs. “Yes.

Sometimes it’s so much, the weight of everything they’ve lived through (and died through, Shiro thinks secretly) anchored between them. But even through all of that, everything, Keith has always made it easier. Shiro knows, without a doubt, that he’d be lost without Keith. He wouldn’t be here at all without Keith.

Keith wriggles his hips, as if to make sure he can still feel Shiro inside him. They both tremble, shuddering— too sensitive, perhaps, but unwilling to part.

But maybe that’s just the way it’s meant to be, Shiro thinks.

“Keith,” Shiro says, voice soft. “I’ll spend the rest of my life making you happy. No matter what it takes.”

And Keith laughs, soft and unmistakable, blinking his eyes open to look at him. He touches his face, cupping his cheeks with his palms, his fingers brushing over his cheekbones.

“Idiot,” he whispers, fond. He doesn’t elaborate, but Shiro can guess at what he means. He smiles, helpless and in love, and leans into the circle of Keith’s arms— kissing him quiet.