Blowing off steam came in a variety of forms depending on who you were and what you enjoyed. Pidge would rewire an entire system, maybe write code, Hunk would bake, Lance...honestly Shiro didn't know what Lance did to blow off steam...Keith would obliterate two or three levels in the training deck.
Shiro would often do the same, in fact, he had just done so. He wiped at his forehead, dripping with sweat and growing tacky with how long he had been going at it. An hour or two against the gladiator would do that to you. In any case, he made his way to the showers, stripping down and just relaxing under the hot spray. It was like a soothing balm on his muscles, warm and relaxing and washing away the sweat and grime. He shampooed, massaging his scalp and groaning softly at how nice it felt.
It was when he was soaping down - lathering the suds over his belly - that he slowed and scoffed on a breathy noise of consideration, and then an incredulous chuckle. It had been a long while since he'd done this and apparently, according to his dick, he was in the mood. He held his breath for a moment, listening to be sure the showers were still empty, and then he checked the lock on his stall.
After he was more secure in his solitude and the likelihood that he wouldn't be interrupted he leaned back under the spray. He let his head thump back against the wall, dragging a hand over his chest, tweaking at a nipple, running his fingers down to his navel and up again. It really had been so long. Just the thought of doing this had him hard already. Shiro adjusted his stance and wrapped his flesh hand around his cock, giving himself a firm tug and pursing his lips at the awkward angle. He wasn't used to his left hand.
With a huff, he gingerly switched hands, carefully, so very slowly, testing the feel. Not quite trusting this hand. The palm was made of soft, synthetic fiber, and it wasn't all that much unlike his flesh hand. Kind of pleasant, if he was honest. He settled into a steady rhythm, closing his eyes and exhaling shakily. If there was one perk about his prosthetic hand he soon found it was that it didn't tire. He went a little faster, bucking his hips.
It was inevitable that his thoughts started to wander. They usually did, after all everyone needs some sort of extra push, don't they? He thought of a few things, kisses on his neck, a tongue laving over his nipple (both of which he emulated by dragging his fingers over those spots), how it felt to be fucked, or to have a warm mouth wrapped around his cock.
A low moan escaped him and he bit his lip, not eager to let anyone who might be wandering by know what was happening in here.
Okay, so he was running with that fantasy.
He slowed his hand and teased his thumb at the head of his cock, imagining a warm tongue doing so instead. Maybe its owner would lick into his slit, taste the bead of precum that had surfaced, hum in contentment over the taste. Shiro reached his free hand down to fondle his balls, tracing a finger down his taint to tease at his hole.
"Mmn." he couldn't help but sigh, thinking of how they would lick a stripe along the vein of his cock, take just the head into their mouth and suckle. He'd look up at Shiro with those big violet eyes, hooded with thick lashes and framed by his raven bangs, lips plump and swollen from working him. He'd probably suck harder and pull off with a smirk, maybe curl that small, gloved hand around him and pump him while he pressed a kiss to the crown.
He would be smug like that, wouldn't he?
Shiro gasped and stroked a little faster, and then he choked up and froze. He'd barely even registered that the anonymity of his fantasy was so suddenly gone, it took him a solid ten seconds to realize what he had just been thinking.
"Fuck." he murmured. He didn't mean...he hadn't been thinking...
Oh he had definitely been thinking. And it had been vivid.
Shiro groaned and rubbed both hands over his face, exasperated with himself and unsure of what to do. He hadn't even realized he was attracted to Keith. Or...maybe he had, coming back after his year away to Keith being older and all his soft edges hardened and refined. Keith was like a blazing fury, fierce and ethereal. Shiro had definitely thought so before, and now it was just sinking in that he found him to be beautiful.
And apparently he also found him attractive. He found him attractive enough to fantasize. Shiro stared at the ceiling, debating his options here. He could stop now, forget about this, and go about his day (good luck forgetting this)...he could continue, pointedly not think of Keith (now that he had thought of him once during he didn't know if that was possible holy fuck), or he could say fuck it and go through with it. He could go through with it and change the way he saw Keith forever.
Shiro exhaled heavily, turning his gaze downward and looking away from where he was still hard and waiting in shame.
"I know better." he murmured to himself, curling his hand around his cock and jerking himself slowly. "I know fucking better." he sighed, jaw falling open as he panted. He really shouldn't...
But Keith...fuck...Keith...what would he do? Did he know what to do? Would he be shy? Would he get to his knees, casting a coy look up through those thick lashes, licking his lips. Would he be demure, wrapping a hand around him and hesitating before he pressed a kiss to his cock? Maybe he'd whimper as he suckled on the head, lashes fluttering. Shiro knew what he would do. He would tangle his fingers in Keith's hair, murmur praise, tell him how pretty he looked on his knees, how good he was. And Keith would be good, he was a natural at so many things. Though Shiro did know that even if he wasn't all that good at it he would still enjoy it.
Just the thought alone...
Shiro bit down on his knuckle, muffling a moan and turning a worried gaze to the stall door, as if anyone could be waiting behind it. What if it was Keith?
Shiro scoffed at himself and sped his pace, one half of him ridiculing his other half, the one that was getting off on possibly being heard by Keith. He wondered what Keith might do if he heard him? If he heard Shiro moaning and whining in the shower.
Shiro slapped his hand over his mouth, breath caught in his throat.
Get it together.
That was a loud moan, he really did wonder if anyone heard? It echoed through the stalls and Shiro felt his skin growing hot with a fierce blush.
But his hand never ceased all the while, and he soon grunted and came in a thick splash on the tiles, panting heavily as he rolled his hips into the pulses of his orgasm. He watched the water wash it away and huffed an incredulous chuckle, rubbing at his eyes.
He finished his shower and made his way to dinner despite the fact that upon sitting down he felt like all eyes were on him. Like everyone knew exactly what he had done for ten minutes in the shower that day. He couldn't even look at Keith. Just the thought had him flushing with color from the roots of his hair down to his toes.
"You alright there, Shiro? You look a little red."
Shiro glanced at Coran and gave a jerky nod, "Yeah!" he squeaked.
Shiro could only avoid his gaze for so long, it would seem, and of course Keith would say it like that. He glanced at Keith, so intense in his gaze, brows furrowed and his lips pulled into a careful frown. God his lips really were that plush and red, he hadn't been imagining that. Imagining them wrapped around his-
'Do not finish that thought!'
"I'm okay! I just...I had a hot shower." okay that wasn't a pure lie. In fact, it wasn't a lie at all, he could roll with that.
Everyone shrugged or dismissed him with a hum, and yet Keith kept his gaze. Violet eyes searching his soul, and Shiro almost felt like a bead of sweat should have been trailing down his temple. Keith tilted his head, and then he glanced down at his food, looking up almost immediately, as if he expected Shiro would have looked away in the few seconds he had broken eye contact.
God it felt like he knew.
Shiro smiled sheepishly and then went back to pushing his food goo around on his plate, chin rested on his palm.
Looking up once more a minute or so later he found Keith watching him from a similar position, eyes hooded, far too similar to his fantasy.
He had to bail out of dinner early.