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Keith's Pleasurable Quest for Revenge

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An Alpha can possess a great number of traits depending on the eye of the observer, a leader to one a failure to another, like a piece of art everything lay in the eye of the beholder as God intended; as though we were created in his exact image we are all unique and all have different ideas of what is beautiful, ugly, good and wrong.

But to Keith, Takashi Shirogane, his Shiro was a man that encapsulated all that was good, he was kind and sweet, strong both in body and in will, his laughter sent tremors through his body and whenever they had to part he could always feel those soft lips ghost across his own.

He was the captain of his heart and it would only beat for him, his mate.

__

Keith groaned into the firm pecs that was his pillow, rubbing his nose just above Shiro’s heart, its beat soothing him into a tempting five-minute snooze.

‘Ah, ah no come on baby, we gotta get up,’ chuckled his warm pillow.

‘No’, he grumbled, his arms wrapping that much tighter around the beautifully ripped torso that was his mate’s, turning his face into his cleavage he thought it better to smother himself in his mate’s chest rather than face the gruesome Monday morning that lay ahead of him – urgh, he can already feel that horrid cold sweat he developed whenever he was forced to go on public transport – too many humans with too many smells and annoying mannerisms. He just wanted to curl up, nice and warm on Shiro’s chest or in his lap and just sleep, and maybe something more…

Why did he have to pay taxes? The government was robbing him of his cherished time with Shiro and for what? To pay for another doughnut for some police officer in Greenwich?

‘Taxes pay for more than doughnuts Keith.’

Huh, he didn’t realise he said that out loud.

‘Yeah, you did.’

‘Stop reading my mind Shiro! It’s too early in the morning for that,’ he grumbled, meaning to sound like a serious adult but coming out more like a grumpy toddler.

‘Sorry babe, but seriously we need to get up.’

Shiro hoisted Keith up as if he weighed little more than a feather, his muscles supporting his weight in the most delicious way as he manoeuvred himself out from underneath his sleepy mate. Keith licked his lips when he was rewarded with a lovely view of his Shiro’s broad back and shoulders that were lovingly littered with long, red scratch marks, as he retreated away into their en-suite for a shower.

Why did he have to look so tasty? His hair a beautiful nest of white starlight and his voice was like hot dark chocolate, warm and rich.

Looking at the alarm clock it was 6:30 and the world outside was pitch black dark as last night when they had tumbled into bed together both of them reluctant to let go of the dying hours of Sunday. They had spent a lazy weekend in together, taking long walks with Kosmo in Hyde Park and watching the ducks glide across the lake, their little-webbed feet not noticing the icy cold waters.

Tumbling (gracefully) out of bed and successfully stepping over Kosmo who was still snoozing at the foot of their bed, he made his way to their small kitchen. London was expensive, just like New York was, and to have a normal sized kitchen was way out of their price range, luckily, he was the only one that did any form of cooking – Shiro had a lifetime ban from entering the kitchen zone when he managed to mix his tie with his scrambled eggs and then concurrently burnt them both.

With Shiro exiled from the kitchen, it was down to Keith to feed them both without making themselves bankrupt from too many take-outs.

Keith was a good cook, nowhere close to Hunk’s artistry but he could still make a mean ribeye steak. Back in Texas, after his pa had died and his ma disappeared to god knows where he managed to live on his own for a good few months before socials services discovered him and then moved to him a foster home in Idaho. After that, though his foster parents were nice, reasonable people – it was never home to him and at the earliest opportunity he got he ran out of that house and never looked back. He still sent a Christmas card to them though, every year without fail.

Deciding on making porridge with a dash of honey and cinnamon he let the pot of porridge simmer on the hob and turned the radio on and let himself be gradually woken up by the annoyingly upbeat music of the Spice Girls from some random time in the 90s, back when he was only knee high and tried to steal his pa’s fireman’s hat.

Before the porridge could boil over and create a creamy volcano he dished out the porridge into two bowls and sliced some fruit. Kosmo whined in hope that he could have some, but Keith’s word was law, ‘No, you have your own food boy.’

Kosmo grumbled and looked down at his bowl of brown, questionable chunks of meat.

Swallowing his spoonful of porridge, he began going through his list of things to do for when he got into the office, he was set to go on heat leave on Wednesday which meant he had a very tight deadline to complete all his work before then. Being a designer for an up and coming book publisher meant a lot of long hours hunched over multiple screens in order to create the most suitable and eye-catching book covers. The company, created by their boss Allura, was a start-up and only five years old but it had already amassed a serious following of readers and authors alike. But, being a new company meant that they could only afford one designer, i.e. him. So instead of having a team of designers, or at least a few freelancers (something that he used to do), Keith was solely responsible for all of the front covers. With five to six days off on leave quickly approaching, it was going to be tough to get everything done on time. He could always sneak in an hour or two of work from home while Shiro slept, he wasn’t always a mindless lust demon through his heats, but if Shiro caught him working he ran the risk of his laptop being locked away.

As his work to do list continued to pile up inside his head Shiro sauntered out from their bedroom and already wearing his smart work clothes, the business trousers, in particular hugging his arse and thighs beautifully.

‘You awake now?’

Keith sticks out his tongue at him who returns the gesture in kind.

‘Awake enough to have made you breakfast.’

Shiro laughs and sits himself down at the little breakfast table with Keith, they eat mainly in silence, content to listen to the morning news and traffic reports before being hit with another dose 90s nostalgia with Savage Garden’s Truly, Madly, Deeply.

‘Man, have you seen the music video to this?’ Shiro asks around a mouthful of porridge.

‘They had a music video for this?’

Nodding as he swallowed down the porridge, ‘Yeah, basically it was huge quantities of hair gel and black leather jackets, you know I think I could pull off one of those jackets.’

This was their typical morning routine, Keith cooking breakfast and Shiro sharing his vast trivia knowledge, some days it would be astronomy or action films, this morning it was 90s music videos. He knew that those frivolous omegas and betas in the movies would have blanched at the idea of such a simple, domestic scene – but for Keith, this was something he truly treasured as he never had this normal life, even before his father died. He always was the abnormal one, the kid with no mother and didn’t even know her name, the kid who cooked dinner for him and his dad each night and the kid who, once dragged away into foster care, slept with a knife under his pillow. Maybe even Shiro wouldn’t understand but having this morning and every other morning with him felt like a miraculous dream, certainly something his younger self never believed possible.

‘Are you sure you want to go in today? No one will blame you if you take an extra day or two off before your heat, after all, you do tend to get a bit…pent up just before your heat.’

‘Shiro, we’ve talked about this, I can’t just leave everyone with unfinished stuff, it wouldn’t be fair to the others, anyway it's only two days.’

‘You do remember what happened just before your last heat right? You almost ripped Lance to shreds because he took your pen!’

Keith smirked at that, yeah, he had ripped Lance a new one over a pen, but he deserved it – at the time Lance was the annoying, cocky newbie in marketing and as the office was so small he had to deal with Lance’s irritating voice every time Allura walked pass or when he thought he could crack a joke. They did eventually come to a truce and are now friends, but it did take a lot of Keith’s patience to reach this stage, but at least Lance now respects his pens.

‘Lance knows to keep his hands off my pens and as long as everyone keeps their distance I will allow them to keep their limbs,’ he said with a smug look, he was mainly joking of course, but he wasn’t afraid to use a light threat to keep his desk area clear.

They soon began their arduous journey to work with Kosmo walking alongside them to Forest Gate tube station. They were packed tightly onto the already overcrowded train, most of the commuters realised to keep a distance around the big, wolf-like dog and for those who bothered to look up from their books, newspaper or phones they might have noticed the mated couple completing a crossword in the Metro paper together.

‘God, even on the underground you guys are disgustingly cute,’ grunted a very short woman with large spectacles perched on the tip of her nose as she tapped away on her laptop.
Pidge met them halfway on their travel to work, boarding the train at Liverpool Street station, she had little to no patience for other commuters. Sometimes, when there were no seats available at all she would sit on either Shiro or Keith’s laps and continue talking about work or Monsters & Mana.

‘You’re not going to be able to come to the pub quiz this week, aren’t you?’ she asked them, not halting in her typing at all. Every Friday the team all went out to The Lion’s Head pub and entered the weekly pub quiz where they competed against five other teams including the engineering team from Galra Tech Industries – those arseholes beat them last week in the head to head round.

‘Sorry Pidge, we’re going to be a little…tied up on Friday,’ said Shiro, not looking up from the crossword as Keith entered in ‘socks’ for the answer to gap six.

‘Ew! Shiro! Please, don’t talk about your knot so early in the morning!’ Pidge exclaimed loudly and though the majority of the of the people around them had their headphones on the few that didn’t all gave Shiro a funny look.

‘What? No, no, no!’ Shiro moaned into Keith’s shoulder, his face turning as red as a strawberry all the way to the tips of his ears.

‘Thanks, guys, I now need to bleach my brain,’ squirmed Pidge, her laptop wobbling on her lap as the train bolted around another corner to Moorgate station. Two more stops thought Keith, two more stops until they reached Kings Cross station where they will all queue up at Repit Sal’s espresso bar just by the Harry Potter gift shop. Two more stops until he reached their office building, a survivor of the Victorian age that once considered itself a towering structure but now overlooked by the monstrous buildings of the twentieth and twenty-first centuries.

This was going to be just a normal Monday, he will clear his desk of paperwork and sticky notes that almost completely covered his computer screen, and, by Wednesday he will be too busy having his arse being eaten out by Shiro than to worry about some book jacket. At the thought of Shiro’s thick tongue working him open, his legs splayed across his broad shoulders, quivering with need and heat tremors and…

Oh shit. He was working himself up too much and though they were now off the train they still had to get Shiro’s soy latte and Pidge’s green tea muffin.

Think unsexy thoughts, think unsexy thoughts!

‘Keith, honey, are you okay? You look a little flushed,’ Shiro raised his palm to his forehead to check his temperature.

Keith leant into Shiro’s soft touch, his palm warm and soothing, like a calm ocean wave lapping at a sandy shore in the Caribbean.

‘I’m okay, just flushed from the tube,’ which was true. It might be a cold bitter January morning up above but down below on the circle line it felt more like Dubai in summer; especially with the hundreds of commuters piled up inside.

They got to Rrepit Sals at their usual time and met up with Hunk in the queue. Shiro wrapped his arm around Keith’s waist which he leaned heavily into, his cheek smooshed up against his shoulder where flesh met the cool metal of his prosthetic arm, now covered under a coat and tightly buttoned up shirt.

‘Morning guys how was your weekend?’ Hunk asked cheerily, Monday mornings having no negative effect on his mood.

Shiro did most of the talking for them, retelling the tale of Kosmo tying them together with his lead, like the scene from the 101 Dalmatians Disney film that Keith had been allowed to watch during his few months in the orphanage. Although the film made it appear more romantic, in reality falling into a muddy puddle together was more gross than cute.

Kosmo whined as if feeling some sort of guilt for his past actions, or maybe it was his attempt of begging for food as Hunk took out piece bacon from his sandwich and after asking for a paw, Kosmo was rewarded with the greasy meat.

After getting their orders of coffee they walked five minutes down the madly congested road outside Kings Cross station, and though it was approaching eight o’clock there were several tourists posing inside a red telephone box – the phone since removed and the window panes covered in sex call centres and local pole dancing clubs. Keith had a mind to warn them about who had probably been in that last box and most likely hadn’t washed their hands afterwards.

Arriving at the office they were greeted by Coran sitting at his desk with two phones to either ear. He was Allura’s PA and acted more like a father figure to the whole team and he had made it his lifelong mission to make everyone eat one of their five a day vegetable, but sadly his cooking skills meant that by the time he served the vegetables they were reduced to green goo that not even Kosmo could stomach.

Turning down the corridor towards his office Shiro followed Keith to his desk and pulled him in for a quick kiss on the lips that was soft and warm, and which held so much promise for later.

Keith was tempted to deepen the kiss but was also conscious of their colleagues around them, though they had seen them kiss before the two of them did try to keep the PDA on the down low while in the workplace.

Shiro reached into his work backpack and pulled out a box of Oreo Triple Chocolate Cookies, Keith’s favourite snack.

‘I got you these. I thought that perhaps it will help you pass the time at work. I know you’re going to be really busy over the next few days.’

Keith flung his arms around Shiro’s neck and peppered his cheeks with kisses, ‘I love you, have I ever told you that?’

‘Maybe but tell me again anyway.’

Sadly, work beckoned Shiro away from Keith’s adoring attention, but there was still the promise of later.

__
He should have known better and that his cookies were in danger as soon as he left them in his top desk drawer when he went out for lunch with Pidge and Hunk. Allura and Shiro were in a meeting with a book agency negotiating over rights and royalties, all the fun stuff of publishing.

When he returned to his desk an hour later after having a disappointing chicken and pumpkin seed salad that didn’t even touch the sides, he decided to rip open his pack of Oreos, but when he opened his drawer they were gone.

His vision turned red.

‘LANCE!!!’

The office went quiet as if God had turned the world on mute mode.

In the bin directly in front of Lance’s desk was a small piece of blue plastic packaging that looked oddly like Oreo cookie packaging, the cookies that were now missing from Keith’s top draw.

‘Oh, hi Keith, I didn’t know you were there.’

Lance was obviously nervous, he was clutching a bulking red folder to his chest as if it was a shield. Oh, how Keith hoped he was quaking in those stupid designer leather boots that annoyingly clip-clopped across the office floor. They were ugly boots, but because Allura had bought them for him for his birthday he swore to wear them every day, much to Allura’s relief.

‘You ate my cookies,’ he said, getting straight to the point.

‘No, no, no! I- ‘

‘You ate my cookies,’ he said, slowly advancing to the increasingly panicked and sweaty Lance. There was no escape for him, Lance was not a good runner at the best of times, but when he was wearing those ugly, leather boots a sloth could beat him in a race.

‘I’m sorry! I’m sorry! Please don’t kill me! I forgot my lunch and I left my wallet at home and, and –‘

Just as Keith was closing in on his prey, his claws at the ready to rip apart his tanned flesh, how dare he take away something his sweet Alpha provided for him and only him, oh he was going to pay dearly for his trespass.

‘Is everything alright in here?’ said Allura.

‘ALLURA!’ said Lance, rejoicing at his white-haired saviour as if she was his knight in shining armour.

‘I’m sorry Keith but may I borrow Lance from you for a little while?’

Before Keith could even utter any form of reply Lance had already taken his opportunity and bolted for the door behind Allura, his shoes squeaking in fear as he crossed the open plan office to the doors to freedom.

He gave Allura a stiff nod, allowing her to retreat with Lance who was now probably kissing the ground she walked.

He’ll exact his revenge somehow and it will be sweet.

Keith was a simple man but when it came to plotting his revenge he quickly realised that he wanted to achieve the same if not more, amount of pleasure he would have gotten from those cookies. And, probably due to his oncoming heat, he hatched a basic plan, but if done correctly then he would enjoy for years to come until he’s a little old man in a care home, toddling around the gardens with Shiro by his side.

The afternoon reluctantly dragged along and one by one his friends began to pack up and venture through the madness of London rush hour back to their homes.
Allura was the first to go, albeit reluctantly and at the behest of Coran’s concerned mothering, that she bid her goodbyes to everyone and then cycled her way home. She lived in the dazzlingly white townhouse in Kensington which she inherited from her father.

Not ten minutes later Lance began to unpack his roller-skates and quickly made his retreat, likely thinking what good luck he had been graced with for not having been butchered alive by a very hangry Keith.

Pidge and Hunk took a while longer before they eventually detach themselves from their computer screens, they too quickly said their goodbyes, Pidge muttering about getting herself a cheeky Nandos for dinner, quickly followed by a horrified gasp from Hunk – ‘No friend of mine will eat at that place, come back to mine, I can whip you up something!’
Keith caught Pidge’s smug grin as they walked past his desk, she was an evil genius.

It was now just him and Shiro, alone together in the open plan office. The only sounds were the clickety-clacking of Shiro still typing on his keyboard, and the light humming from the vibrator that was wedged up his ass. A tremor of pleasure sent a tidal wave up his spine, the toy buzzing against that special bundle of nerves was working him open slowly. He moaned into his hand that he tried to cover up with a cough.

‘Are you alright Keith?’ said Shiro, looking up from his laptop.

Shiro walked over to his desk, laptop long forgotten.

Keith bolted upright and met him halfway. The two of them standing at the halfway point between Shiro’s responsibilities and Keith’s steamy plans. Lance’s desk was behind him, watching on in growing concern.

Reaching into his pocket he flicked the switch on the small remote which heightened the intensity of the vibrations. His knees turned to jelly as the humming transformed into and an unavoidable buzzing.

‘Keith, I think your phone is ringing,’ said Shiro.

Keith wordlessly reached back into his pocket and pulled out the remote. The small gadget resting innocently in the centre of his outstretched palm.
Shiro sucked in a breath, instantly recognising it.

‘I wanted to try something…new,’ said Keith coyly, biting his lower lip and looking up at his Alpha through his lashes. His seduction skills were greatly lacking compared to the porn stars he used to watch when he was a kid, but no matter how badly he flirted Shiro would always turn to putty in his hands.

‘Yeah, like what?’

Keith looked around the room, all the computers were off and Kosmo was still dozing under Shiro’s desk.

‘Move Kosmo into the kitchen and shut the door then I’ll show you what I have…planned.’

Shiro nodded his head so fast Keith was worried his neck was going to break, and then rushed off to haul the huge dog into the kitchen.

Keith set about undressing, not completely though, he first slipped out of his trousers and tossed them over to his chair and then added his shoes and socks. He left his white button up shirt on, it was a little long on him and so added a flattering mini, mini skirt effect that he knew Shiro would go wild for. It was a shame he didn’t have any lace stockings in his draw, after all, he kept a bloody vibrator so why not add some lace?

He then sat on top of Lance’s desk, hoping Shiro wouldn’t notice the desk swap. The vibrator continued buzzing against his prostate which was causing slick to trickle down the insides of his parted thighs.

Just then, Shiro flew back into the room, shutting the door to the kitchen and then barricading themselves in by piling up some boxes of printing paper against the door. Kosmo whined on the other side of the door, he didn’t like being left alone.

‘Shiro,’ he whispered huskily, ‘I have something I want to show you.’

Shiro bit his lip and blush began to bloom across his cheeks.

‘Bend over,’ he commanded, like a true captain.

Keith bent over Lance’s desk, pushing the paperwork to the side as he wasn’t that much of a jerk to dirty a colleague’s work. He raised his ass in the air, his thighs trembling as the cool air hit his slick drenched hole and thighs.

‘Where’s the remote?’

Keith handed him the remote.

Shiro took the remote and began to unbuckle his belt and pulled out his hard, cherry flushed cock. Keith began to salivate at the sight, his whole twitching at the memory of the last time he had that cock in him.

Gently, and very slowly, Shiro pulled the vibrator out, it now being covered in slick – Shiro collected the slick into the palm of his hand and rubbed it up and down his hard-on. He then reached down and lined up his cock to Keith’s entrance.

‘You ready for this babe?’ Shiro whispered into his ear, nibbling on the lobe for added emphasis.

Keith groaned and bucked his head back into the crook of Shiro’s neck.

‘In English please.’

‘Please, I need…need you!’ he whined. That vibrator had been working him good all afternoon and the only thing that kept him going was the thought of Shiro, of his knot working him open, pumping him full of his seed.

‘Good boy,’ Shiro kissed a line up from the bottom of Keith’s neck to his jaw. He then began to push himself in, his hands spreading his plumps cheeks wide as he pushed through the ring of muscle and towards that sweet bundle of nerves.

‘More, please, Shiro, more!’

‘I know baby, I know.’

After what felt like a millennia (Keith was prone to hyperbole when horny) Shiro was settled in, his tip now just tickling his prostate.

‘Are you okay?’

Keith nodded his head wordlessly, his brain couldn’t think in English, the words jumped ship as soon as Shiro had pushed himself inside.

‘Do you want me to continue?’

‘P-please…yes!’

‘Good,’ Shiro’s chest rumbled, almost like a lion, purring with contentment. He then pulled himself almost completely out of Keith, leaving just the tip inside and then slammed back in, his hips rubbing against Keith’s backside, his cheeks providing a nice cushion to rest his hands on.

They both moaned as Shiro picked up the pace of his thrusts, Keith attempted to keep up with him by pushing hips back, but the sheer pleasure became so overwhelming and he collapsed on top of the desk, his nipples being over sensitised by them rubbing against the surface.

It only took another few minutes before Keith came with a sharp cry, he tried to contain it by biting his lip but then Shiro rubbed a soothing hand across his hardened nipples. It was too much pleasure for his body to contain. He released his load as well as more slick. His eyes catching stars that only he could see.
Shiro was close, so close, his knot was almost fully formed.

But then a voice rang out from down the corridor.
‘Hello? Anyone back there?’ called Coran.

‘Shit!’ They both whispered. Shiro’s knot has now formerly formed, tying them together in a pleasurable but now awkward situation. They somehow manoeuvred themselves to under the desk, Keith sitting atop of Shiro’s lap, their lips, not even centimetres apart.

Coran’s footsteps approached, getting louder and louder. Keith’s heart was jumping up his throat in both fear and excitement, and, subconsciously, he clenched around Shiro’s cock.

Apparently, that was all the help Shiro needed to shoot his seed into Keith’s hole. He clamped his teeth down onto Keith’s exposed shoulder, muffling his moan as he came.

‘Must have been a ghost,’ muttered Coran before swiftly returning into the corridor.

They waited for another few minutes, not just to make sure Coran didn’t return to see them butt naked at work, but also because it took Shiro’s cock a while to slowly calm down.

__

It was a few months later that this incident cropped up unexpectedly into polite conversation.

They were all gathered down at the Lion’s Head pub on the rooftop garden overlooking one of the many train tracks that snaked across the city. It was a Friday night and now that it was early summer the evenings were getting lighter and (for some i.e. Shiro) unbearably warmer.

The team were celebrating one of their books The Queen Returns being ranked the number one bestseller with the Telegraph and The New York Times, it was a huge accomplishment for the young publishing house, one in which deserved at least one round of beer for everyone.

Well for everyone but Keith.

Keith sat beside Shiro, whose arm was wrapped securely around his waist, his hand lightly patting Keith’s round, distended stomach. The baby was only just beginning to realise the strength of its legs, thankfully, it had yet to discover his bladder.

‘So, have you got any names yet?’ asked Allura.

‘Well, we have been thinking of a few boys names,’ said Shiro.

‘Hey! Have you heard of this new trend where parents call the kid after the location it was conceived in?!’ said Pidge with a smirk.

‘I’m not calling my baby ‘Lance’s desk’,’ replied Keith, cutting into the laughter of the group.

Stunned silence hit the table like a bomb. Shiro’s face grew a dark shade of red as he battled with containing his embarrassment.
‘YOU HAD SEX ON MY DESK?!’ screamed Lance as he flapped his hands away from his body as if trying to shake off the possible Shiro and Keith cooties embedded on his desk for the last few months.

‘Well,’ said Keith, ‘You stole my cookies.’

Needless to say, they all decided that Lance was not a good name.