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“Of course, Kirl Hewn, we understand that, but with an alliance with the Coalition your people could…”
Shiro holds back a sigh and tries not to fidget as Allura valiantly tries to move negotiations forward with the Kirlids, despite the fact that negotiations started at a standstill and have only gone slower since they convened nearly a varga ago.
At the head of the table, the Kirl hears Allura out with what Shiro guesses is patience—the wide, frog-like mouth and multi-faceted eyes make interpreting the Kirlids’ facial expressions an inexact science.
Shiro glances around at the other Kirlids seated around the table, their faces a gamut of blues and greens, each of them just as unreadable as their ruler. Shiro doesn’t fully understand the leadership hierarchy, but he understood enough from the briefing to know that the Kirl is best equivalent to a monarch, and that to convince the rest of the council, they must first convince the Kirl.
The Kirl seems unconvinced.
“I am not unsympathetic to your cause,” she says when Allura is finished, “but I cannot offer you my planet’s resources for nothing, and unfortunately your Coalition does not appear to be able offer anything my planet or my people require.” She places her four hands on the table and begins to push her chair back, and Shiro doesn’t need to read faces to know a clear dismissal. “We are glad to feed and house you for the expected length of your visit, and the presence of Princess of Allura of Altea and Admiral Shirogane of the Starship Atlas is a great honor. We are also greatly anticipating the arrival of the Leader of the Blade of Marmora. We have not welcomed a Galra to our planet in many moons.”
From the corner of his eye, Shiro catches one of the Kirlids sit up straighter at the mention of Galra, the fingers of both pairs of hands starting to tap together in some sort of agitation. Shiro takes quick note of the individual’s defining features: more green than blue, a grayish stripe under one eye. Like all the Kirlids seated at the table, he wears a complex sigil pinned at his throat, signifying what Shiro assumes is some kind of rank or office, though what that might be he couldn’t even begin to guess at—but he does his best to memorize it. If anyone plans to give Keith any trouble, Shiro will know who to keep an eye on.
Allura, never one to give up easily, starts, “Wait, Kirl Hewn, please just—”
The Kirl holds up her two left hands and Allura falls quiet. “I have listened, and heard. As our honored guests, you will be treated to the finest comforts of Kirlai for the duration of your stay, and as a gesture of goodwill, you will depart from our planet with a modest sum of the crystals you sought to gain from an alliance. But as for an official alliance, my answer is no.”
The room is quiet for a moment as Allura looks to Shiro, who shrugs back helplessly. They can’t force the Coalition onto a people that doesn’t want it. They’d be no better than the Empire. They’ll just have to find the crystals, or figure out a substitute, somewhere else. His mind has also more than halfway moved on to Keith—should he ping him and tell him not to bother coming? As leader of the Blades, he’s supremely busy, arriving late to Kirlai from a relief mission that went quite a bit sideways before it moved forward, and another mission on the itinerary immediately after. He could make up so much time if he could bypass this planet altogether. The Kirlids have already turned down an alliance, so Shiro personally doesn’t really care if they’re disappointed.
It’s just that…Shiro will also be disappointed. They’ve been together (Shiro’s heart still goes !!! at the thought alone) for about four phoebs, and Shiro has only seen him in person twice in that time. He’s desperate to fold him into his arms, hold his face in his hands, and kiss him, maybe, if Keith wants to.
(Keith does want to, if their private transmissions back and forth are any indicator, but Shiro still tries not to assume.)
He then immediately feels selfish for wanting Keith’s time to himself when Keith has so little of it to spare, especially when Shiro knows just how much of that sliver of personal time he spends messaging back and forth with Shiro when he should be eating or resting or otherwise taking care of himself. (“Talking to you is taking care of myself,” Keith had insisted once when Shiro had previously brought the sentiment up in one of their rare video calls, Keith shirtless and shower-damp, and Shiro’s heart had nearly beat right out of his chest so hard that he couldn’t even argue the point.)
“If- If I may, Exalted Kirl…”
Shiro wrenches himself back to the situation at hand, as the very Kirlid who is lined up for Shiro’s private shit-list rises and bows repeatedly, his four hands wringing nervously. All heads in the room turn to him.
The Kirl waves a magnanimous hand. “Speak and be heard, Physician Grelt,” she says.
Physician Grelt apologizes, thanks the Kirl, then apologizes again before practically tripping over his words to say, “Our guest who has yet to arrive, the Leader of the Blade of Marmora, is- is he not of both Galra and human descent? Both species which are known to be prolific procreators? If he were to participate in the genome project, it could bring the fertility sector several steps forward in our research, could maybe even lead to a breakthrough! Would- would perhaps this cooperation on the part of the Leader of the Blade of Marmora be worth an accord to provide the Coalition with the requested resources?”
Shiro is aware that the Kirlid across from him is potentially opening a door back into negotiations, which is exactly what they need, but the phrases “prolific procreators” and “fertility sector” give him a very bad feeling about the nature of the ‘cooperation’ that they’re looking for from Keith.
Shiro glances at Allura, who is listening with baited, careful breath, then around to the other Kirlids seated around the table, and finally to the Kirl. He still can’t tell what any of them are thinking, but the Kirl does seem to be considering Physician Grelt’s words.
“A-as you said, Exalted Kirl,” Physician Grelt continues, “it has been many moons since a Galra was welcomed to Kirlai and participated in the study, and we have made many technological advances in that time. We are capable of gathering readings that didn’t even exist when he had our last Galra subject. I humbly ask for your consideration on this matter and submit myself to the wisdom of your conclusion.”
He hastily bows low, and avoids smacking his head on the table by scant millimeters. Shiro is aware that he’s done them a huge favor, but still feels a little disappointed by the near miss.
“I have listened, and heard,” the Kirl says, and Physician Grelt sinks gratefully back into his seat. “I will consider your words.”
Human, Altean, and Kirlid alike sit in a heavy, expectant silence while the Kirl thinks. She pulls her chair back in to the table and from the corner of his eye Shiro can see Allura nearly bubbling over with anticipation. She sends a grateful look at Physician Grelt, who seems to be quietly hyperventilating and doesn’t notice.
“Yes,” the Kirl says eventually. “I think this a worthy exchange. The Blade Leader’s participation in the genome project for a generous supply of Kirlai dew crystals, and open negotiations for future resupplies.” She looks to Shiro and Allura. “Being personally acquainted with the Blade of Marmora leader, is it your expectation that he will agree to such terms?”
Shiro looks to Allura, about to ask what this ‘participation’ even involves and expecting to see his own skepticism reflected on her face, but all he sees is victory and determination. He’s not fast enough to cut her off before she says, “Of course he will!”
Pointedly, Shiro clears his throat. “Of course he will need some time to decide that for himself, once he arrives, is what my colleague means.”
The look Allura shoots him is less than pleased. “O-of course,” she says, her smile stiffening. “Though certainly he’ll agree.”
Shiro would step on her foot if he thought he could get away with it.
“Certainly he’ll agree that this is an important decision, and make his own choice based on that.” He clears his throat. “Could you provide more context on what his participation in this project would require? I’m sure you understand that his time is in very high demand, so he may not be able to participate if his presence is required for any extended time.”
Allura’s glare is hot on the side of his face.
The Kirl gestures for Physician Grelt to speak.
“A-ah, yes, no, I mean— no, that is, yes of course. It would simply be a series of tests—a blood sample, some internal samples and readings, extraction of genetic material, that sort of thing. A brief questionnaire. Nothing that should take any longer than the time the Blade Leader was already planning to spend here.”
“Fantastic!” Allura says, clapping her hands once. “Then it’s settled.”
Shiro feels like it is very much not settled, but until Keith arrives he can agree that there isn’t much more to discuss.
Shiro thinks the Kirl smiles or the general equivalent of it. “I will have a scribe begin drafting an agreement, based on the assumption that the Blade Leader agrees to the terms. In the meantime, let us adjourn for mid-meal. I’m afraid I have other matters to attend to following that, so I will appoint you a guide to show you some of the sights Kirlai has to offer while we await the Blade Leader’s arrival.”
“Lovely!” Allura says, all smiles.
Shiro attempts his own smile. “Great.”
***
Shiro is noticeably distracted during lunch and the subsequent tour, though no one actually seems to notice. Their table-mates are far more interested in asking about Altea than Earth, which suits Shiro just fine. Shiro’s mind is on Keith, wondering how close he is now, excited for his arrival but dreading the situation he’ll unknowingly be walking into. Should he ping him and give him a heads up, or will that just cause him unnecessary anxiety in advance before he can do anything about it?
Ultimately, the choice is taken from him when he sneaks his communicator from his pocket under the table only to find it dead. He suppresses a sigh and resigns his attention to their hosts, doing what he would consider a decent impression of polite interest, at least for a species that only nominally share analogous facial features.
He can tell that Allura is not impressed with his efforts, but he’s not currently very impressed with her either, and the Kirlids don’t appear to notice anything off. In fact, their tour guide is ebullient enough that just Shiro and Allura’s presence almost seems unnecessary. Their guide, who Shiro would swear said his name was Jeff, is so enthusiastic that it actually rubs off on Shiro for a few doboshes. The tour takes them through what Jeff calls the greenhouse, but it’s more of an indoor jungle. While Jeff points out a few of the plants, noting their properties, Shiro watches two squirrel-lizard creatures dart around and around the bases of some strange wiggly trees, chasing and tumbling over one another, and Shiro suddenly finds himself missing Keith quite terribly.
After a little while, Jeff’s running commentary begins to chafe at Shiro’s nerves, and all he wants is to be done with tour, done with this planet, to whisk Keith off somewhere far away where they can be properly alone. But they can’t do that until they get through the here and now.
“Say, uh, Jeff?” Shiro says after waiting for Jeff to take a breath from his monologue, which takes doboshes—plural.
Jeff starts a little, as if he’d somehow forgotten he was actually talking to people, and Shiro gets the feeling that rather than Jeff having been assigned to keep Shiro and Allura occupied, the the inverse may be closer to the truth. Shiro’s suspicion is further confirmed when Jeff turns to look at him, and he notes the pendant Jeff has around his neck: the same as Kirl Hewn. So then, a prince, probably, or something like it; and, Shiro realizes, not a small adult as Shiro had assumed, but in some stage of adolescence.
“Or, uh, I mean Kirlid Jeff?” Shiro cringes inwardly. Their mission briefing had stressed how important titles are to the Kirlids, and that showing proper respect is key to staying in their good graces.
“ Kirlin Jeff,” Allura hastily corrects with a forced laugh. “And since you’re not royalty, simply Kirlin is appropriate.”
“Of course, my apologies, Kirlin,” Shiro says with a bow. Do the Kirlids bow? Shiro can’t remember. He hopes so.
Jeff—the Kirlin— waves his two left hands in front of his face as if he’s swatting this planet’s equivalent of gnats. “Oh, I don’t care about all that,” he says. “I’m just happy to be able to share my knowledge of Kirlai’s rich history and wildlife.”
“Your knowledge is so impressive,” Shiro says, sensing his in. He’s never met a teenager who didn’t respond to some judiciously applied flattery. He searches his memory for anything Jeff talked about throughout the past thirty doboshes. “I especially liked, um, Plint the Industrious, and contributions to modern architecture. You really—really brought the history to life.”
“Oh. Well thank you. I take pride in my studies of my people.” The Kirlin puffs up a little, standing a little taller, and Shiro suppresses a smile.
“I can tell,” Shiro says seriously. “I wasn’t going to ask, but…” Shiro drops his voice, conspiratorial. “You seem very knowledgeable and trustworthy, so could you tell me anything about the genome project? Specifically the um, fertility sector? I heard of it because my friend might be participating in it, and I bet the history is fascinating.”
Jeff shrinks back a little, twisting his hands together similar to the way Physician Grelt had done. “Well…” he glances around and, seemingly satisfied that they’re alone, continues, “I’m not really supposed to know much about it but…it’s common knowledge that around ten moon-turns ago, that is about three hundred decaphobes, our race was at risk of extinction. Through no clear internal or external circumstances, birth rates were drastically declining, and barely one in fifty young survived the full gestational period. Our ancestors developed what we now call the genome project, and they did all kinds of research to try and help keep our race alive.”
Here Jeff colors a bit, the blue mottling into mauve around his eyes. “I-I don’t know that much about the fertility sector specifically, all I know is that it involves lots of studies on alien species and their mating habits to try and detect patterns in behaviors and genetics that might provide some insight into what makes certain species more prolific than others.”
Shiro nods. “I see. Do you know what kind these studies entail?”
“Not really,” Jeff says. “All I know is that they bring the alien— I-I mean subject that they’re studying into a room with a lot of machines and the subject usually makes a lot of noise for a while and when they come out of the room they go sleep for a long time. The Physicians never let me watch before back when I was a child, but I just had my half moon-turn ceremony so I think they may let me attend when they do the next one.”
“Uh-huh,” Shiro says while thinking absolutely not. “So these machines, what do they—”
“Oh, Kirlin Jeff!” Allura calls from a few steps away, bending down to look at a little spray of flowers growing alongside the greenhouse path. “Could you tell me what kind of flowers these are? They’re so lovely!”
“One moment, please,” Kirlin Jeff says to Shiro with a bob of his wide head, then goes to crouch down beside Allura and goes into a long-winded explanation of the properties and cultural significance of the flower. And then the flowers next to it, and then some of the trees, all at Allura’s request.
Shiro calls upon all of his patience to follow behind them quietly, counting backwards from ten over and over until they reach the other side of the greenhouse. When the Kirlin offers to take them to a different area to continue their tour Shiro politely bows out, citing a need for the facilities and to rest his feet. He expects another irascible look from Allura, but to his surprise she agrees with him.
Shiro understands why she went along with it when, as soon as they’re alone in the deserted sitting area of the guest wing, she rounds on him.
“What the quiznak is wrong with you?” she hisses.
Shiro’s temper has been a seething ember for the better part of three hours, and he’s darkly eager for Allura to stir him up into a blaze. “Me?” he spits back. “I should be asking you that!”
Allura laughs sharply. “What? For stopping you from basically harassing the monarch’s son for information? Or for trying to secure an alliance that the Coalition desperately needs so that it can continue to save billions of people on the brink of starvation on the planets the Empire ravaged, while you offered no help whatsoever and glared daggers at the one council member who kept negotiations open?”
Shiro ignores the comment about Jeff; he doesn’t think asking questions to a person who likes answering questions counts as harassment in any universe, but this isn’t about him. “How about you basically promising Keith to them to do their experiments on, without his knowledge or consent?”
“We all have to do things we don’t want to do, Shiro.”
Shiro closes his eyes and reminds himself that they’re on the same team. “He doesn’t have to do this.”
Allura is too well-bred to say are you fucking kidding me, but her expression says it for her. “Actually, he does. If he is our ticket to an alliance, then he must participate in their study. There is no other way.”
Shiro’s prosthetic hand creaks with strain as he clenches his fist. He wants to shout but he keeps his voice as level as he can. “That’s not for you to decide. It’s Keith’s body. No one but him gets to decide what he does with it.”
Allura shakes her head, jaw clenched. “You’re being—”
“What is it I’m deciding to do with my body?”
Both their heads whip around to see none other than Keith standing in the doorway and looking back and forth between them. “Thank you,” Keith says to the Kirlid beside him. “I’ve got it from here.” The Kirlid bows themself from the room, leaving the three of them alone.
“Keith!” Shiro wants to pull him in, wrap him up in his arms and never let him go, but they’re keeping their relationship under wraps for now and he’s not feeling too inclined to show that kind of softness in front of Allura right now anyway. He satisfies himself for the time being with a hand on Keith’s shoulder and a firm squeeze. Friendly.
“Hey,” Keith says with a smile so genuine it aches. “It’s good to see you. Ah, both of you, I mean.” He clears his throat. “So, uh…” He looks back and forth between them. “What’s this about my body?”
“Hello, Keith.” Allura smiles as if she wasn’t perfectly ready to toss Keith’s aforementioned body right to the wolves. “It’s lovely to see you too. We were just discussing the upcoming negotiations with the Kirlids. It would appear that to cement an allyship, the Kirl requires your participation in some sort of scientific study.”
Keith blinks. “I…see. Shiro, could you show me where my room is? I need to, ah, use the facilities.”
“Oh! Oh yeah, of course, come on. We’ll be right back, Allura.”
Allura sighs, but doesn’t say anything as they turn and Shiro leads Keith down the short corridor that their assigned rooms branch off of. Well, Shiro’s and Keith’s do. Allura’s room is down a corridor in the opposite direction, in a suite specifically for interplanetary royalty. The Kirlids’ social rules regarding royalty are a little annoying, but in this case Shiro finds he doesn’t much mind.
Shiro leads Keith to the room assigned for him, just across the hall from Shiro’s own. The doors only lock from the inside, so the door swings open easily. Shiro pokes his head in first, just to do a quick scan, just in case. The room is nice but sparsely furnished, few places for an assassin to hide. There’s not even a bath room as such, just an apparatus that generally resembles a toilet tucked into a little nook in the back corner, and a bathtub and sink out in the open in the other corner.
All of it assassin-free, so far as Shiro can tell, not that he’s surprised. His only suspect for a Kirlid who may take action against Keith’s wellbeing doesn’t actually seem to want to hurt Keith at all, which is a bit of a shame in Shiro’s opinion. At least if Grelt just wanted to kill Keith, Keith could just kill him first and be justified.
“I can check for assassins myself, you know,” Keith says from the shoulder that Shiro had automatically blocked his access with, nudging Shiro out of the way and slipping past him into the room.
Shiro grimaces. “I- I know.” Of course he knows Keith is more than capable of taking care of himself. Honestly probably more capable than Shiro, by this point. “I didn’t mean to— I know you can—”
“Shiro.” Keith’s mouth is tugged up at the corner. He’s teasing him.
Shiro clears his throat and follows Keith inside, closing the door behind him. The relief of the barrier—of him and Keith on one side and the rest of the world on the other—is instant. “Surely you wouldn’t deny me the classic, universal experience of checking a room to make sure there’s no one trying to murder my boyfriend hiding inside,” Shiro teases back.
Keith laughs and steps into his space, arms coming up to circle his neck. Shiro’s hands light on Keith’s waist like they belong there, like they’ve always done this, even as the newness of it is thrilling.
“You big romantic,” Keith says, and pushes up onto his tiptoes to kiss him.
It’s a sweet, chaste thing, slightly off-center. It makes Shiro’s heart stutter.
Keith rocks back down to his heels, cheeks tinged the faintest pink.
“Guilty,” Shiro replies, and bends to kiss him again. It’s a series of pecks more than anything else, and a far cry from Keith’s whispered desires on shaky, late-night video transmissions, but there will be time later for Keith to kiss Shiro in the ways he’d described.
For now…
Shiro presses one lingering, close-mouthed kiss to Keith’s lips and pulls back with a sigh and reluctantly lets his arms fall away from Keith’s waist.
“Didn’t you need to…?” He gestures to the corner nook. “I’ll give you some privacy.”
Keith snags his wrist before he can take more than half a step toward the door.
“That was just an excuse to talk to you alone. That was some serious tension between you and Allura that I walked into, and it seems like it has to do with me. So what’s going on?”
Shiro sighs again, longer and heavier.
“So…long story short, the Kirl—that’s like, their queen? And you have to call her ‘Kirl’ and never her name because they’re weird about titles and royalty—”
Keith holds up a hand, stopping Shiro mid-breath. “I did read the mission brief,” he chuckles. “So, the short version?”
“Ah, right, sorry,” Shiro says, chagrined. He probably could’ve paid slightly better attention to his own briefing. “So basically, the Kirl was chill about it but she was not interested in joining the Coalition like at all, and then one of her advisors started talking about some research project they’re doing, and now they’re open to alliance negotiations again as long as you participate in their research.”
Keith nods slowly. “That’s essentially what Allura said back there. What’s the issue?”
“They haven’t really given us any details, but the research is apparently for the ‘fertility’ sector of this project. So I’m pretty sure they’re looking to do, um, sex experiments. On you.”
“Oh,” Keith says somewhat faintly. “And the trouble between you and Allura?”
Shiro fidgets with his shirt cuff, and finds he doesn’t really want to tell Keith. Keith and Allura’s relationship is much improved from when Keith’s Galra heritage came to light, and Shiro doesn’t want to be the one to tank that.
“Shiro?”
Shiro doesn’t quite meet Keith’s eyes. “Basically, I thought you should be present to decide if you wanted, or at least consented to participate or not, and Allura didn’t feel the same. She thinks you have to do this, whether you want to or not since they have a resource we need, and I fundamentally disagree. You don’t have to do this.”
Keith’s expression morphs, not to the disgust or betrayal that Shiro anticipates, but to amusement. “So what I’m hearing is that Allura was willing to put the good of billions of people the Coalition will be able to help with this alliance above my own personal bodily autonomy?”
“I…guess…that’s the gist?”
Keith’s smile grows. “And you put my bodily autonomy over all those billions of people?”
“I…um.” Shiro feels suddenly on the back foot.
Keith’s smile turns into a full grin. “Fuck, I love you so much.” He takes Shiro’s face between his hands and pulls him down into a kiss that far more closely resembles the ones he’d described.
Keith slides a hand into his hair, fingernails light on his scalp and Shiro groans, his own hands sliding around Keith’s back to pull their bodies flush together before he’s even decided to. Keith’s lips are little chapped but his mouth is warm and wet, and opens so easily for Shiro’s tongue.
I missed you I missed you I love you so much
Shiro’s thoughts are a blur as Keith moans into his mouth, everything fizzy and electric, a longing both new and old buzzing beneath Shiro’s skin as he holds him close.
A sudden rap at the door has them springing apart.
“Uh, come in,” Keith calls, settling into a subtly defensive stance. Assassins don’t typically knock in Shiro’s experience, but it’s good to be alert.
The door swings open to reveal a Kirlid carrying two nondescript black duffel bags in its arms.
Shiro tenses, but Keith just says, “Oh, thank you. You can just set them wherever.”
The two of them stand there a little awkwardly as the Kirlid silently crosses the room to set Keith’s bags on the bed, then bows himself from the room with a quiet request for Keith to enjoy his stay.
So they do bow.
They both look at the closed door then back to each other, before they burst out in giggles.
“Oh my god,” Keith snickers, rubbing at the pink in the apples of his cheeks.
“I don’t think I’ve felt more like a teenager almost getting caught kissing a boy by my parents since I was a teenager almost getting caught kissing a boy by my parents,” Shiro laughs.
“Can’t exactly relate, but also…yeah.” He glances back at his bags on the bed. “Well, now that my clothes are here, I guess I can get changed out of my flight suit.”
“That’s a shame,” Shiro says instantly, and Keith snorts.
“Well you can watch me get changed if you want to,” Keith replies with a sly little smile that’s way too sexy.
“I really, really want to,” Shiro says, sliding his arms back around Keith’s waist and dropping little kisses on his forehead, cheeks, and nose. “And that’s why I think I probably shouldn’t.” He squeezes Keith tight then lets him go.
Keith releases the clasp at the back of his neck and begins working the zipper down. “Not even if you’re allowed to touch?”
Shiro averts his eyes. “ Especially if I’m allowed to touch.” Then, too honestly, “If you let me put my hands on you, we’re going to be wanted elsewhere long before I’m done with you.”
“…Oh,” Keith says after a moment, over the sound of rustling clothes.
“Sorry, sorry,” Shiro says immediately. “I didn’t mean to—”
“No, it’s…” Keith clears his throat. “It’s, uh. It’s good.”
Shiro closes his eyes even though he was already facing away from Keith. “Oh.”
The silence that follows is charged, Shiro thinking too hard about Keith’s current state of undress, just a few steps away, imagining closing that distance and what he would do with access to all that skin he’s seen but never touched, wondering if Keith is imagining it too, wanting Shiro to come over and touch him as much as Shiro wants to.
“Why me, specifically?” Keith says, breaking into Shiro’s daydream of what could be if he was just a little less responsible.
It’s always been you, Shiro thinks, confused. Keith hasn’t expressed any insecurity over their relationship since the very earliest days of it. It was always, always you, even before either of us knew it. You’re my entire world. You know that.
“What?” he says.
“The researchers or whatever. Why do they want me specifically to do their experiment? Why not you or Allura?”
Ah. Well that’s a different answer altogether. “I think partially because you’re part Galra, and partially because you’re specifically half human and half Galra. The phrase ‘prolific procreators’ was definitely used.”
Keith snorts. “I see. Ew.”
Shiro laughs. “Yep. Allura’s also mad at me because I apparently asked the prince too many questions about it. He told me that the researchers bring the test subject to a room with a machine and they make a lot of noise for a while and when they leave they go sleep for a long time.”
Keith makes a face. “So…definitely sex experiments then.”
“That’s what it’s looking like.”
Keith lets out a half chuckle, half sigh. “Love that for me.”
Later that evening, after Keith has had a chance to meet with the Kirl and her council and been filled in personally on negotiations for the Coalition and formally agreed to the terms, Keith says, “Allura’s right, you know.”
They’re in Keith’s room, Keith in his pajamas under the covers and Shiro sitting on the edge of his bed. He’s not putting Keith to bed like a child, but he is, kind of, and it gives Shiro a swell of longing for that kind of domesticity; he imagines tucking Keith in just like this after a long day training with the Blades, himself with some inane unending paperwork or other to do for the Garisson still to work on, before he comes to bed an hour or so later to find Keith sweetly asleep in their shared bed, snuggling up to his warmth and pulling him into his arms to sleep.
Shiro wants that. Wants it so much it aches. “What do you mean?” He says.
“About me having to do this weird alien sex experiment thing. I have to do it.”
“You don’t have to,” Shiro protests. Keith gives him an indulgent sort of smile like you’d give to a child who aspires to be an astronaut and a rock star, and Shiro frowns and insists, “You don’t.”
“I really do, though. My personal comfort versus the lives of billions of people? That’s really no choice at all.”
“Of course it is!” Shiro says hotly.
Keith smiles that same smile again and reaches up to cup Shiro’s cheek in his palm. “It really isn’t. There’s only one right choice,” he says gently, then his smile turns a little sharper. “But it’s kind of hot that you would make the obviously wrong choice just for my sake.”
Shiro huffs out a breath and pouts. Of course he would. He presses a kiss to the heel of Keith’s hand.
Keith gives him a sweet smile, caressing Shiro’s cheek with his thumb for a moment then sighs, letting his hand drop. “It’s just something I have to get through. Hell, they’ll probably have me just like, jerk off in a cup or something and all the worry will have been for nothing.”
“I really hope so. Still…” Shiro says, picking at a stray thread on the bedcovers, “I was thinking…do you want me to come with you tomorrow? I won’t watch,” he says quickly, “just to— to advocate for you, make sure they don’t, I don’t know, hurt you?” He grimaces. “Sorry, that sounds— I’m not trying to—”
“No, that…that sounds good,” Keith says, saving Shiro from his stammering excuses. “I think I’d feel better, having someone around who I can trust to only have my best interests at heart. Thank you.” His smile is so sweet that Shiro wants to kiss it, so he does.
Then he does it again, Keith all pliant and responsive, and again, and again, until Keith pushes him back with a hand on his chest and Shiro realizes he’s half crawled on top of him. “If I don’t make you leave now, I won’t let you leave,” he says with a rueful little smile.
So don’t, Shiro wants to say, but they already decided that it was smartest and safest not to sleep in the same room as much as Shiro hates it, but he knows it’s just as hard on Keith, if not harder. So he gives Keith one last kiss that only lingers a little before forcing himself to pull back.
“Sweet dreams, Keith. I love you.”
Keith smiles up at him, so open and tender, and yeah Shiro would make the wrong choice for him, and he’d do it over and over without a second thought.
“I love you too, Shiro. Sleep well.”
***
The next morning dawns bright and annoying.
Keith isn’t scheduled for his weird alien sex experiment until late afternoon, so Shiro has the entire morning to get more and more on edge while trying to remain polite and diplomatic with their hosts. He finally gives up and bows out right after mid-meal as gracefully as he can, before anyone can suggest that Jeff gives them another tour or something.
Keith finds him a few minutes later in the otherwise empty guest wing sitting area, attempting to meditate while mostly picturing the worst parts from all the alien horror movies he’s seen over the years and trying very hard not to envision them happening to Keith.
Keith’s mouth ticks up into an amused smile. “Good to see you looking calm and relaxed.”
“That obvious?” Shiro says wryly.
Keith shrugs. “A bit. But I know you. Here, let me show you a game I learned the last time we dropped off supplies on Balmera. You play it with shiny rocks!”
He dashes off to his room and reappears a moment later with a handful of dice and two small velvety bags that are indeed filled with shiny rocks of various shapes and sizes. The game Keith teaches him is similar to liar’s dice, but with extra steps and, well, shiny rocks. It’s actually really fun, and Shiro has dropped a lot of his tension by the time the guest wing door slides open to reveal Physician Grelt with a clipboard and a small carry case, wearing something like a lab coat with his sigil pinned at the collar.
“Hello again.” He nods politely to both of them. “Blade Leader, are you ready to get under way?”
“Sure,” Keith says, getting to his feet. “You can just call me Keith, though.”
“Ah, very well! In return, you may call me Grelt. Admiral Shirogane, I actually only require Keith for this trial,” Grelt says when Shiro rises too. “In the meantime, please feel free to—”
“I’m coming too,” Shiro says in a tone that brooks no argument. “I won’t get in your way. But Keith is my…very dear friend, so I will be joining you today to ensure that he is properly taken care of.”
Grelt glances at Keith, who nods along with Shiro’s words. “I…very well. Let’s not waste time then. I’ll go ahead and take a few samples here, then I’ll have you answer a few questions while we walk to the lab, and then we’ll begin the trial.” He opens the case and pulls out a few objects. “Any history of Gryntarx disease or simliar?”
Keith says, “Um.”
Grelt taps his chin. “Gryntarx affects Galra, for humans it would be, ah…hemophilia.”
“Oh,” Keith says with a shake of his head. “No, nothing like that.”
Grelt makes a little note on his clipboard and proceeds to take a blood sample from Keith, then takes a swab of the inside of his cheek, another under his tongue, then two more each for his nostrils and ears.
“We’ll assess these later,” he explains, submerging each swab in a container of a gel-like substance then snapping them closed and depositing everything back into his bag. “But it’s better to get these samples soaking in the sedifinum solution as soon as possible.”
“Right,” Keith says. “Sure.”
“Lovely!” Grelt gestures them out the door and flips a page on his clipboard, walking beside Keith with Shiro trailing slightly behind them.
“Now for the questionnaire. Please answer all questions honestly to the best of your ability. First question, as a Galra-human hybrid, I would expect that you would have reproductive organs to allow you to both impregnate and be impregnated. Is this correct?”
Shiro can see from his partial profile view of his face how Keith’s eyebrows raise and he blinks quickly a few times. “Wow, ok, starting personal,” Keith says, clearing his throat. “Yes, that’s correct.”
And it’s not like Shiro didn’t know that—very shortly after they finally confessed their love to each other and got together, Keith had nervously shared that he was different ‘down there’ than anyone else Shiro would have ever been with, and offered him an out if that was going to be a dealbreaker, as if learning and exploring Keith’s body was ever going to be any kind of hardship.
Shiro shakes his head now just thinking of it.
“Do you possess an ovipositor?”
Shiro almost swallows his tongue.
“Um, no.”
“As expected,” Grelt nods. “You are in possession of both a uterus and testes?”
“As far as I’m aware.”
“Of course. Your uterus and testes, are they internal or external?”
“Uh, both internal.”
Which is…huh. Shiro tries to hang back a step, realizing that Keith is giving very personal information that he may not be comfortable with Shiro hearing, but then Grelt asks “Are you mate-bonded?” and Shiro is too curious to know Keith’s answer not to listen in.
They’ve talked about this at some length, how Galra mate for life, and how Keith didn’t want to lock Shiro into something he wasn’t sure he wanted despite Shiro’s reassurances that he was very sure about what he wanted. Shiro considers them mates, and he knows that Keith’s Galra instinct had marked Shiro as his mate since before either of them had ever even heard the word Galra, but they haven’t actually mated.
“Uh, can you be more specific?” Keith says.
“Have you selected a mate, or mates—atypical yet not unheard of—with whom you share a deep physical and emotional bond?”
Keith hesitates. “What do you mean by ‘physical bond’? Like having sex?”
Grelt looks at Keith for a moment before saying, “Yes. This would be an individual that you have participated in intercourse with. Based on your Galra heritage, it is likely that this would be the only individual you have ever felt interest in participating in intercourse with, though of course it’s highly possible that your human instincts may blur that particular trait.”
“Then no,” Keith says. “I’m not mate-bonded.”
“So you do not have a mate?” Grelt presses.
“I have someone I would like to be my mate,” Keith says. “And I’m pretty confident he wants to be mine. But we haven’t had sex.”
Grelt looks at Keith for a long time, guiding them around a corner and down a short hallway toward a set of frosted sliding doors, Shiro carefully tracking their route. “I see,” Grelt says eventually. “Are you wearing any articles of clothing that belong to them, or contain their scent?”
Keith looks down at his simple Blades training uniform. “Um. No?”
“Oh good,” Grelt says breezily. “Then you’ll be fine.”
He asks Keith a few further questions—how many nipples each of his parents has (two, to the best of Keith’s knowledge), if Keith has eaten any raw twigberries in past phoeb (not that Keith is aware of), does he have sweat glands in his palms (yes), and does he manually pleasure himself and if so how often and when was the last time (yes, sometimes—once or twice a movement when pressed by Grelt for specifics—and, to Shiro’s great interest, last night).
“Well here we are!” Grelt says, stopping them suddenly in front of a plain door at the end of the hallway.
Grelt unlocks the door with his two right hands on the lock pad and ushers them inside. Shiro’s not sure what he expected—something closer to a sex dungeon maybe, restraints bolted to the floors and ceilings—but it far more closely resembles a basic medical exam room, with the exception of a complex-looking bank of machines up against the side wall that takes up a fair amount of the space, it’s multiple screens glowing but blank.
On a padded table in the center of the room sits what they’re obviously here for: a large half-cylinder with a phallus affixed to the top. To Shiro’s (admittedly untrained) eye, it doesn’t look any different from the saddle vibrators that sometimes appear in gimmicky Earth porn.
Grelt pats the saddle proudly. “Our crowning achievement in fertility research to date,” he says. “Capable of gathering and compiling data we couldn’t have dreamed of even a moon-third ago. Watch this!” He grips the phallus firmly around the center and one of the screens comes to life, a thick horizontal band of bright red appearing across the whole screen about halfway down. Grelt’s finger flex and squeeze harder and the band goes darker, to a deep maroon. He lets go, and the band disappears. Then he touches a single finger to a point near the base, and a single spot of light pink appears on the bottom left of the screen in the exact shape of a Kirlid fingertip.
“This real-time pressure sensor allows us to gather empirical data on a subject’s internal muscular structure and behavior that we previously had to rely on purely anecdotal evidence for!”
Keith blinks. “And here I was worried this would be invasive and intensely private.”
“Hah!” Grelt laughs jovially with a squeeze to Keith’s shoulder that Shiro doesn’t like at all. “Well now you see, nothing to worry about. All just typical operating procedure.”
Grelt goes to fiddle with some dials near the screens and Shiro steps up beside Keith, setting his hand where Grelt’s just vacated. “Ok?”
Keith turns to him and gives him a resolute, if slightly pained smile and a thumbs up.
Grelt turns, and gives an exasperated huff. “Oh don’t be shy, come in, come in! The procedure will begin in short order.”
Shiro looks at Keith, who is definitely right next to him inside the room, and with a sinking feeling turns to look at the doorway behind him. A small gaggle has appeared there—wide faces and multifaceted eyes all peering into the room from the hallway. Six Kirlids file into the room, whispering to each other in what Shiro can only guess is excitement.
“Shiro,” Keith whispers, eyes wide and jaw clenched.
This right here is why Shiro is here. “No,” he says to Grelt. “Absolutely not.”
Grelt has the audacity to look truly shocked. “But- but these are research students!” He glances over to the group standing in Shiro’s periphery. “And- and prospective research students. This experience will be invaluable to their studies. This has potential to be breakthrough research!”
“Actually,” Shiro grinds out, putting his body between the ‘research students’ and Keith. “This has the potential to be a person who is walking out of this facility if the absolute utmost is not done to preserve his privacy. He will not be some show for a live studio audience.”
Grelt may not know exactly what a live studio audience is, but he definitely gets the gist. “All right, all right,” he says, sounding so tragically woebegone that it makes Shiro’s teeth itch. “Everyone out, I’m afraid.”
They all leave with disappointed muttering, except one.
“But I can stay, right?” says Jeff.
Shiro closes his eyes and counts backward from five, wishing he had the time to count back from a thousand times as many for all the patience he’ll need.
“Ah, no,” he says, then remembers to tack on, “Kirlin. Only completely essential personnel this time I’m afraid.” He at least tries for a polite smile.
“But- but the Physician finally said I could watch this time! It’ll be such great experience!”
Shiro’s smile stops feeling so much like a smile. He bends down and puts his face level with the Kirlin’s, dropping his voice so that only Jeff can hear him. His voice comes out low, dangerous, and there’s nothing he can do to stop it when he says, “And I’m saying you can’t. This man beside me is my mate, and there is no system or galaxy I wouldn’t rip apart to keep him safe. It is my job to protect him while he’s vulnerable; that is the only thing I care about. You and your ‘experiences’ mean nothing to me, and I won’t hesitate to neutralize any threat to Keith’s wellbeing.” Shiro stands and takes a step back, does a little bow. “Please close the door on your way out, Kirlin.”
The Kirlin turns, mute with shock, and leaves.
Grelt looks at him, speechless, somehow even more wide-eyed than normal despite not really having eyelids.
“What did you say to him?”
“I simply explained the situation to him,” Shiro says pleasantly. “Well then, shall we proceed?”
“Uh, yes, yes let us,” Grelt says, turning on his heel to fiddle with more buttons and dials. “Keith, if you will disrobe, please?”
Keith lets out a breath and presses against Shiro’s side for a moment in a silent thank-you. Shiro presses a light kiss down into Keith’s hair while Grelt’s back is turned and squeezes him in a brief hug.
Shiro politely averts his eyes while Keith undresses, and busies himself with folding each article Keith hands to him. Shiro wants to look but it feels wrong, like snooping for Christmas presents before they’ve been wrapped. He wants to see Keith like that, but only when they both agree it’s the right time.
“Ok,” Keith says when he’s naked and Shiro is folding his slinky black underwear and trying not to think about Keith wearing them.
Grelt turns, and it’s lucky for him that Shiro can’t detect anything in his expression but clinical curiosity because Shiro is already feeling heightened and he’s not certain that he’s above evisceration if he detected even a hint of desire. Not that he really knows what that would look like, but Grelt doesn’t ogle or touch, and so his life continues.
Grelt grabs a few items from a hook on the wall and approaches Keith with an almost nervous look at Shiro. Good, Shiro thinks.
Grelt shows Keith, and by extension Shiro, the devices he’s going to use. “All just sensors for gathering vital statistics—heart rate, blood nitrogen levels—no sorry, hm, human with Galra would be…blood oxygen, one moment…” He turns to the machines again to tweak a dial then returns. “There we go. As I was saying—blood oxygen levels, hormone composition and saturation, and so on. He reaches for Keith then stops short with another glance at Shiro. “Ah, may I touch you?”
“Go for it,” Keith says.
Grelt affixes the various devices to Keith’s body under Shiro’s watchful eye. Some of the sensors he can guess at—the band around Keith’s upper arm seems pretty analogous to a blood pressure cuff on Earth, a rubbery ring slides around one of Keith’s fingertips in the manner of an oximeter. Various sticky patches get applied to Keith’s chest and back, and two smaller patches go on either side of Keith’s neck, right on the spots Shiro has noted Keith especially likes to have kissed and licked, on the few occasions that Shiro has gotten the chance.
Grelt has Keith do a little wiggle (during which Shiro closes his eyes against temptation) to make sure none of the sensors dislodge, and seemingly satisfied, pats the padded table. “When you’re ready, just hop on up. When you’re comfortably seated on the phallus, I’ll affix one more sensor to your penis, and the research will commence. Do you have any questions?”
Keith eyes the phallus. “Um, can I have some lube or something?”
Grelt looks puzzled. “Lubricant, you mean? All of my research suggests that a half-Galra, half-human should be able to self-lubricate. Do you not have this capability?”
“No, I- I do,” Keith says haltingly while Shiro stares very hard at the far wall. “But it’s not like an…on command thing. I have to be…” Shiro can hear Keith swallow. “You know. Warmed up a little.”
“Warmed up, yes” says Grelt, nodding. “The ambient temperature unsuitable? That is easily remedied. A number of other species have very particular temperature requirements for copulation, though I was not aware that humans or Galra were among them. This is very important data. What shall I adjust the temperature to?”
Shiro can imagine the expression that goes along with the sigh Keith lets out. “No, listen, the temperature is fine. When I say I’m not warmed up I mean that I’m not…aroused. Usually when humans are about to have sex, they’ll do things like kissing and touching first. It’s called foreplay and it helps to, I guess prime our bodies for sex, so to speak.”
“I see, I see…” Grelt hums, tapping his chin. “And this ‘foreplay’…this is not something you can perform by yourself to get ‘warmed up’”?
“Uh, not exactly.”
“Unfortunate, unfortunate,” Grelt mutters to himself, then stops short. “But- but you have not mated, you said. And yet you have done the foreplay to prepare for mating?”
“Right,” Keith says. “You can do foreplay stuff without having sex.”
This seems to confuse Grelt further. “So you have been aroused by this foreplay, which then caused you to self-lubricate, and then…not mated?”
“I- yes.”
Keith’s confirmation hits Shiro like a punch. They’d danced around the subject and it’s not like Shiro hadn’t figured as much, but the verbal confirmation that Keith got wet while making out with him is…wow.
“But why?” Grelt sounds almost plaintive.
“I don’t know!” Keith is getting frustrated. “Sometimes it’s just not the right time, or not the right place, or you don’t have enough time, or you’re not ready yet, or- or you’re not sure if they’ll actually like your body once they see it—”
Shiro draws in a sharp breath and Keith cuts himself off.
“Never mind,” Keith says. “This isn’t a productive avenue for this conversation. This isn’t exactly an environment that’s conducive to arousal, at least not to me, so can I get some lube or not?”
“Hmm.” Grelt makes some notes on his clipboard before addressing Keith again. “The phallus will take readings of your internal chemical composition—the introduction of any foreign substances will invalidate all the data we collect from it so I cannot provide you with any lubricant. You mentioned that humans do this foreplay ritual to prepare for mating, but you are half-Galra, yes? Do Galra do anything to ‘warm up’ that may help you?”
“You’d know better than me, I expect,” Keith says testily. “You’ve had Galra here before, right? I was raised on Earth, and I’ve never mated with a human or a Galra. So you tell me.”
Grelt is quiet for a moment before he goes to one of the far screens and begins tapping and swiping on with all four hands before stopping on a screen full of text. “Found it! The Galra studies were done while I was still pubescing so I do not have personal recollection of the data gathered, but it appears that mate-bonded Galra tended to travel with an item that bore their mate’s scent, often a piece of clothing or in some cases a stuffed imitation of a small creature, and were able to find pleasure in inhaling this scent. The reports say that this was generally sufficient to cause arousal enough for self-lubrication. As for unmated Galra…” Grelt taps and swipes the screen again. “We have fewer cases of unmated Galra, but it seems the situation is much the same—they would inhale the scent of a close clan-mate to help regulate their nervous system, and I have reports that some of these Galra were assisted by viewing others of their kind participating in acts of mating on a holoscreen or such. We could try that! Captain Shirogane’s scent should work since you are close friends, and it will take only a moment to procure a datapad for you.”
“I am not going to sit here and watch porn in front of you,” Keith says, and Grelt visibly deflates. “But…scenting Shiro could still be worth a try, if he’s ok with it.”
“Whatever you need, Keith,” Shiro says instantly. “How do you want me to…?”
“Just…back up towards me? Close enough that I can lean down and get your scent, just don’t— don’t look.”
Shiro takes a few careful backward steps until his back hits the table. Keith’s fingers are cool and calloused where they gently shift the collar of his shirt to the side a moment before touching his nose to the side of Shiro’s bare neck. A warm exhale sends shivers racing across Shiro’s skin and he closes his eyes against Grelt’s rapt attention and the machines in his periphery.
As he stands there, Shiro can’t help but wonder if Keith scenting him like this will actually be enough. If not, then they’ll just have to figure something else out.
But if it is…
Shiro’s face heats at the idea, that his scent alone could turn Keith on, could get him wet ; the thought is heady and exhilarating, and Shiro wishes fervently that they were exploring that potential literally anywhere else.
Keith’s nose slides up his neck to tuck behind his ear with a deep inhale. Keith’s hand lands on his opposite shoulder, bracing himself, the exhale shuddering out of him to feather down Shiro’s neck, and Shiro is suddenly struck with a sense memory—of being flat on his back on a padded floor, fully pinned by Keith’s capable body covering his own, that same stuttering breath against Shiro’s throat as they panted together in the aftermath of a good spar and the shuddering echo of it through Keith’s body.
Shiro examines the memory in this new light. Was Keith turned on then? Shiro certainly was. It was one of his first ‘ oh’ moments, years ago, and in the moment it was too much to handle so he’d extricated himself with some flimsy excuse, too ashamed of his own reaction to even consider Keith’s. But looking back, he can see Keith there on his knees, watching Shiro getting to his feet, cheeks pink and chest heaving, those galaxy eyes wide and dark and hungry.
It’s a little stupid, Shiro thinks, just how long it took them to find each other.
Keith’s hand tightens on Shiro’s shoulder, and Shiro wonders what he’s thinking about. Is he remembering a similar moment? Did he already know from experience that scenting Shiro would work, or is he only now putting the pieces together of his part-alien body’s confusing reactions? Is scenting Shiro even actually working?
“Ah, fascinating!” Grelt’s voice jolts Shiro from his thoughts. “Even without the visual or auditory stimuli, your hormone levels indicate that you should begin to self-lubricate at any moment. Wonderful!”
“Oh my god,” Keith mutters.
“How about we keep our thoughts to ourselves,” Shiro suggests.
“I— of course,” Grelt says meekly. “Apologies. You may proceed as you are ready, Keith.”
“Ok,” Keith says, then again after a deep breath, softer, “ok.”
Keith stays where he is for another long moment, breathing Shiro in and sort of kneading at his shoulder.
Shiro is reminded of one of the… spicier video transmissions Keith had sent him during his most recent mission—the shot framed to show Keith from the waist up, up to the bottom half of his face. One hand was cut off by the bottom of the frame, but the motion of his arm was familiar and obvious; the other hand could be seen almost out of the shot squeezing and kneading at the pillow beside him. Shiro had barely paid it any attention at the time, more interested in catching every moan and hitch of breath that issued tinny from his speakers. He wonders now if that’s a Galra thing or just a Keith thing.
As if plucking the thoughts from Shiro’s head, Grelt speaks up again. “Ah, the squeezing and pressing motion of the hands was exhibited by many of our other Galra subjects as well. It seems to be an instinctual—”
Keith sits up and his grip grows so tight it’s very nearly painful. Shiro is careful not to flinch.
“Stop,” Keith grits out, “Talking.”
“Sorry!” Grelt yelps, and goes quiet.
A moment later, all the breath leaves Shiro’s body as a ribbon of red appears at the top of the screen Grelt had shown them, slowly getting thicker. The hand on Shiro’s shoulder loosens its vice grip and continues the same kneading motion as a wall of red slowly descends down the screen.
Shiro tells himself it’s not hot. This is objectively a completely un-sexy situation—his boyfriend has been coerced into participating in this weird sex experiment for the sake of “the greater good” and there’s nothing Shiro can do about it. It’s genuinely upsetting, and yet Shiro can’t help the way his heart rate picks up as he watches that band of red grow until it’s taken up nearly the whole top half of the screen.
Fortunately for his wellbeing, Grelt remains sheepishly silent throughout, and seems more intent on peering at the lines of data that have begun populating most of the screens.
Keith pauses halfway down, and Shiro tries so hard not to picture it that it takes him a moment to realize that he doesn’t even really know how to. It was only when they were getting together that Shiro even learned that Keith has additional…equipment, and he’s not naive enough to think that even the analogous parts would look perfectly human. It’s a bit of a mindfuck to know unequivocally that there’s half a dildo inside his boyfriend right now but he doesn’t actually know what that might look like. And more than that, based on the saturated red color, from Grelt’s prior demonstration Shiro can guess that he’s tight.
Shiro reaches up to cover the hand on his shoulder with his own. “You ok?” He murmurs, pleasantly surprised at how steady his voice comes out.
“Yeah,” Keith says, sounding strained. “Just need a sec.”
Shiro squeezes his hand. “Take as much time as you need.”
“Yeah,” Keith says. “Can I- can I scent you again?”
“Of course. You don’t have to ask. You can have whatever you need.” As long as what you need isn’t privacy, Shiro thinks a little bitterly.
Keith leans forward and buries his nose at the crown of Shiro’s head, taking a long breath before moving to the same spot behind Shiro’s ear from before. Shiro watches Grelt watch a different screen, and sees a spiky line graph jump just as Keith makes the softest grunt and sinks down further, taking almost half of the amount he had left all at once.
Without thinking about it, Shiro reaches his other hand up to stroke Keith’s hair back from his face. “You’re doing so good,” he says softly. “Does it hurt at all?”
Shiro feels Keith shake his head. “No, it’s- it’s- I don’t know. It’s a lot, but it’s not…bad.” He takes another deep breath in and lets out another one of those shuddery exhales. “You’re helping.”
Warmth blooms in Shiro’s chest. “I’m glad.”
It only takes a little longer for Keith to have taken the whole thing inside him, and the shaky, relieved sigh he lets out when the entire screen is red makes Shiro’s breath catch.
Grelt glances at the screen, then at Keith, briefly, and then at Shiro.
“Just one last thing, as I said before,” Grelt says, wheeling over what looks like an IV cart with a little shelf, on which lies what honestly just looks like an unrolled condom, albeit of a thicker material than Shiro has ever seen or used. Rather than a little reservoir at the tip though, there is instead a long, clear tube that splits near the end, one end running to a little bag hanging on the cart’s hook, and the other to a small mechanism with a few dials and switches.
“May I, uh, touch him?” Grelt says once he’s standing in front of Shiro and realized that Shiro isn’t moving.
Shiro can’t deny that he likes being asked, but if Shiro had his way he’d break all sixteen of Grelt’s fingers before he laid a hand on Keith. “Why don’t you ask him?”
“Right, uh, Keith, may I touch you?”
Keith’s hand squeezes Shiro’s shoulder lightly, and there’s a note of amusement in his voice, strained though it is, when he says, “Sure, whatever you gotta do.”
Shiro begrudgingly moves out of the way, and dutifully doesn’t watch as Grelt does whatever he’s gotta do, which to Shiro’s estimation mostly involves a lot of touching Keith’s dick before Shiro has even gotten the honor of doing that.
“Comfortable?” Grelt asks after a few moments of shuffling sounds and some terse breaths from Keith.
“S’fine,” Keith says.
“Excellent!” Grelt says, and Shiro isn’t very inclined to equate ‘fine’ with ‘excellent’ but since Keith doesn’t seem to be in active discomfort or distress, he lets it go. “What will happen now, is I will turn both of these machines on—the one encircling your penis will provide moderate suction and will siphon your genetic material when you ejaculate to this receptacle here. The machine will the phallus will vibrate and encourage the vaginal contractions typical in both humans and Galra. It shouldn’t be possible for you to form a lock so we don’t need to worry about that, but it will be very interesting to see if the pressure sensor picks up anything in that area.”
“What- what’s a ‘lock’?” Keith asks uncertainly.
“It’s a Galra mating mechanism that we have less data on than we’d like, to be honest. Don’t worry about it, though, if you’ve never experienced a lock before then it’s not going to happen here today.”
“Right. Ok,” Keith says. “How long is this trial supposed to take? It sounds…a little intense.”
“Oh, not long,” Grelt says airily. “Maybe an hour or two.” Shiro suspects that the Kirlids might have a better read on human facial expressions than Shiro has on theirs because Grelt looks at Keith and quickly follows that up with, “Though of course we can truncate that, if need be!” He glances at Shiro. “Your comfort is my, um, primary concern.”
Shiro just manages to hold back a scoff.
“Fine,” Keith sighs. “Let’s get on with it then. Do I need to, I don’t know, do anything besides sit here?”
“Not at all! Though I do ask that you try to keep your lower half relatively still. Too much movement will nullify the data that the pressure sensor collects, so I ask that you don’t attempt to imitate the movements of human-style intercourse. The vibrations in the main unit are intended to provide sufficient stimulation to collect the data we need.”
“Great,” Keith says. “Awesome.”
“Ready?”
Keith sighs. “As I’ll ever be.”
“Lovely! One moment while I recalibrate the sensors to collect the trial data and then we’ll get started!” He scurries over to the bank of machines, turning dials and flipping switches that Shiro can’t make heads or tails of. Focusing on Grelt at least keeps Shiro from looking over his shoulder at Keith. He can hear the pattern of Keith’s breathing, the controlled counts that Shiro had shown him how to do when he was feeling overwhelmed or anxious. It touches something sweet and aching in him that Keith still uses the technique from what feels like a lifetime ago. Shiro wants nothing more than to go rub his back and hold him, and tell him it’ll be ok. Instead, he moves back to where he was standing earlier, both to give Keith the comfort of his scent if he wants it, and to make it harder for himself to accidentally look at Keith against his wishes.
And it doesn’t hurt that when Grelt returns to Keith to engage the dials and switches that will start the trial, he has to pass far closer to Shiro than he’s clearly comfortable with. Shiro idly wonders if he’s getting better at reading Kirlid expressions, or if Grelt just really, really doesn’t want to be within arms reach of him. He’s ok with either.
Grelt goes to the rolling cart first, turning a dial and flipping a switch that starts up with a droning hum. Behind Shiro, Keith lets out a startled grunt and one of his hands falls to Shiro’s shoulder. The pressure sensor screen goes a shade darker all at once before returning to that bright red, and Shiro bites his lip. He reaches up to cover Keith’s hand with his own as he did before, giving him a comforting squeeze.
Then Grelt, clearly uncomfortable, reaches behind Shiro to the front of the large saddle machine, then with a click a loud mechanical rumble fills the room, totally eclipsing the sound of the first machine. Keith gasps, loud, and then he has both hands on Shiro’s shoulders and he’s squeezing hard.
The red of the screen deepens in a ripple from the bottom up and Keith rests his forehead on the back of Shiro’s head, and Shiro can feel better than he can hear how Keith’s breathing accelerates.
As soon as he’s done, Grelt makes a hasty retreat to the safety of the bank of machines at the side of the room. Shiro keeps him in his sight, but he feels better with him out of touching range of Keith.
“Ok?” Shiro murmurs.
Keith takes a deep, shaky breath, his fingers loosening their vice grip on Shiro’s shoulders. “Fine,” he says on the exhale.
For the next few minutes, it’s quiet but for the sounds of the machines running and the sounds of Keith breathing behind him. Keith will occasionally make a small noise and his hands will tighten on Shiro’s shoulders, and Shiro can’t help but notice how that always seems to coincide with the pressure screen going a shade darker then lightening up again as Keith clenches then relaxes around the dildo.
It’s not hot. It doesn’t make Shiro’s breath catch every time it happens, and his dick is entirely unaffected by Keith’s little involuntary sounds and the visual representation of how tight he gets with the proper stimulation.
Then all at once, Keith’s fingers dig into Shiro’s shoulders and hold, his heading dropping to shove his nose behind Shiro’s ear with a gasping breath and a sound like a moan being wrenched out from behind locked teeth.
The screen goes a deep red and then ripples, dark maroon traveling up the screen in horizontal bars. Shiro tries not to gasp as he realizes what he’s seeing, tries to breathe slowly as he watches the visual representation of Keith’s orgasm, to not imagine what that might feel like to have Keith come like that around him . He’s certain that nothing he’s ever felt could be even remotely comparable.
“Unh,” Keith grunts again and Shiro is completely bowled over to watch as a viscous white fluid pulses into the clear tube, sucked down the length of it to pool in the bottom of the clear pouch hanging on the rolling cart.
When the screen has returned to the ‘normal’ bright red, with only the occasional shivery line of deeper red appearing as aftershocks, Shiro thinks Grelt will come back over to give Keith a break to rest and reset, but Grelt is taking copious notes on his clipboard and barely glances up at him.
Keith doesn’t move either, doesn’t shift back or up like he thinks this is going to stop, just keeps breathing Shiro in, going back to gently kneading at his shoulders.
“You ok?” Shiro checks.
“Yeah,” Keith says, slightly out of breath. “S’intense.”
Shiro chuckles lightly, hoping Keith doesn’t hear the strain in it. “I believe it.”
“Yeah,” Keith says again, a little absently.
A few moments later he starts to do the clenching and relaxing thing again, his breathing coming choppy and quick as he tries to choke back his sounds.
In other circumstances Shiro would encourage those sounds, would say don’t, let me hear you, but all he can do here is to promise himself when they have time and privacy, Shiro will make Keith really moan for every sound he swallows back here.
“You’re doing great, Keith” Shiro murmurs when Keith muffles a sound against his throat through what looked like a particularly tight squeeze. Keith’s breath stutters and another bitten off moan escapes him as he goes tight again before relaxing.
Shiro gets a little lost as the time passes, watching the screen as Keith squeezes and flutters around the fake cock, feeling Keith’s deep inhales and listening to his half-suppressed sounds of pleasure in his ear, offering what comfort and support he can while trying with little success to will his dick not to get any harder than it already is.
“Shiro,” Keith breathes after the screen has gone particularly dark. “Shiro, is it good?”
It seems a slightly strange way to phrase it, but Shiro is certainly not about to question Keith’s semantics when he’s being vibrated out of his mind and probably approaching his second orgasm.
“So good,” Shiro promises. “You’re doing so good, Keith.”
Keith breathes out in what almost sounds like relief. “I need…”
“Go on,” Shiro says, reaching back to comb Keith’s sweat-damp hair away from his forehead. “You can do it.”
“Shiro,” Keith gasps, “I…ah…hah— ngh!”
Even Shiro can tell how this one crashes over Keith like a tidal wave. How he comes for almost twice as long, his muscles rippling their way up the dildo, bands of red on the screen dark and thick while more come spills into the tube in heavy spurts that visibly begin to fill the clear bag.
Keith groans when it’s finally over, resting his cheek against the top of Shiro’s head.
“Keith?” Shiro checks, reaching up to squeeze the back of Keith’s neck for a moment. “Do you need a break?”
Keith shakes his head minutely. “S’fine. M’good.”
“Ok,” Shiro says softly. “If that ever changes and you need to stop, you can tell me and it’ll stop. I’m going to take care of you no matter what, ok?”
“Ok,” Keith sighs, and sinks a little more of his weight onto Shiro’s shoulders when he gasps as a spasm momentarily darkens the screen. “Thank you,” he mumbles. “Love you.”
Shiro’s heart skips a beat and he shoots a glance to Grelt, who appears far more invested in taking notes on the strings of data appearing on all the screens than in their muted conversation.
“Me too, Keith,” Shiro says. “We’ll get you through this.”
Keith turns his face to press a soft kiss into Shiro’s hair, then dips his head to press another to the skin of his throat. Shiro desperately wants to turn and capture his lips with his own, but he resists.
Keith’s next orgasm takes them both by surprise, hardly two minutes later.
Keith grunts out, “ Shit,” and the same dark ripples rise up the screen as the clear tube again fills with his release and sucks it away.
The aftershocks last longer this time, the red desaturating more gradually and staying darker at the top for longer. Shiro notices Grelt notice and tap his chin with both left hands before quickly jotting something down with what Shiro can’t tell is the equivalent of a frown, or just his weird ‘this is interesting!’ face.
At least he seems to know better than to say “this is interesting!” so Shiro doesn’t mention it, and focuses on checking on Keith.
“Keith?”
“Mm?”
“You doing ok?”
“Mhmm…” He nuzzles into Shiro’s throat.
“Are you sure? Remember you can stop any time you want.”
To Shiro’s surprise, Keith almost sounds distressed when he says, “No! No, I don’t wanna stop. Keep going, I can- I can do it.”
Shiro frowns but doesn’t dispute him. He can at least agree that the sooner they get through this the better.
Keith takes longer again to get to his next release, though the build-up to it seems more intense. The screen changes color, light to dark and back, in smoother gradients than the starker lines that denote an orgasm.
“Sh’ro…” Keith presses a blurry whine against Shiro’s throat. “Unh…need it…please…”
“Shh,” Shiro hushes him gently with a glance at Grelt. “You’re doing great. You can do it, just a little more.” He wishes he could say more, tell Keith how perfect he is, how beautiful, describe all the ways that Shiro will pamper and coddle him when this is all over, tell him how much he loves him. But Keith is already in an unbearably vulnerable position, and letting Grelt witness that amount of intimacy between them is more than Shiro can bear.
Keith’s breathing grows labored and his head drops to rest on Shiro’s shoulder, nose tucked into the curve at Shiro’s neck and shoulder. Shiro strokes his hand through Keith’s hair, watching as the gradients start to fluctuate quicker and quicker.
God, Shiro hates this. Hates that he can see how Keith’s cunt is wringing the fake cock but he can’t see his face, hates that they’re not alone, that someone else can see Keith’s face and watch him as gets closer and closer to the edge, can hear the same whimpers and gasps that Shiro can hear right next to his ear. He hates how his cock continues to twitch and fill, how unhinged he feels, watching those smooth undulations and wishing desperately that he could feel it, that it was his cock Keith was sitting on, him making Keith make those noises.
“Shiro,” Keith whimpers, breathing quick and shallow. “M’gonna come…please…”
Shiro has to close his eyes. The strain in his voice is obvious but he tries for encouraging anyway as he says, “There you go, that’s it. Just let it happen, I’ve got you.”
Keith moans like he’s getting paid for it, and Shiro can’t help opening his eyes to look at the screen. The thick bands rise up the screen, faster and darker and thicker than before, and never quite seem to fade when they reach the top of the screen.
Shiro is distracted from the screens when Keith’s hands leave his shoulders for the first time since the trial officially started and Grelt makes a sound of alarm. “Keith, please you must leave those in place! Tampering with the sensors will invalidate the data we collect!” He looks to Shiro desperately. “Admiral Shirogane, please, stop him!”
Shiro squeezes his eyes closed and turns, feeling for Keith’s shoulders, then following his arms to the bend in his elbows and to his wrists, where he’s clawing at the sensor nodules on his throat. He makes a sound of distress that twists Shiro’s heart when he takes him by the wrists and pulls his hands away.
“Shh, shh, it’s ok,” Shiro says softly. “You have to leave those in place, ok? Here,” he turns back around and pulls Keith’s hands in front of his chest so that Keith’s arms drape over his shoulders. He links their fingers together, hoping to give Keith some comfort while not allowing him to pull back and disrupt the sensors. “Just lay your head on my shoulder and scent me, ok? It’s gonna be alright.”
Keith makes an unhappy sound but obeys, taking deep heaving breaths.
Shiro watches Keith’s come drip down into the bag, then looks at the sensor screen to see that Keith is still coming, though the rising bands have smoothed out some. The thick band at the top is still a deep, dark maroon.
Grelt looks between the screen and Keith a few times, and Shiro is pretty sure he’s frowning now, or maybe it’s just his ‘this is really interesting!’ face. A prickle of unease starts to take root when Grelt taps the screen like a misbehaving television, and his lower pair of hands do a little flutter.
“Is something wrong?” Shiro asks, and Grelt startles a little.
“What? Ah, no! No, everything is normal, just…hm.”
“What’s ‘hm’ ?”
“Nothing, nothing! Just some unexpected interference with the screen…must be…although if the readings are correct the implications could be…”
“The implications of what?” Shiro asks, very patiently, if he does say so himself.
Grelt flaps a dismissive hand at him. “Ah, nothing. Nothing to worry about, nothing to concern yourself with.”
Shiro’s frustration mounts. “If you’re withholding information that could be significant to my m— to Keith’s wellbeing,” he says lowly, “you would quickly find yourself in a situation that would be bad for your health.”
Grelt’s expression does an odd twitch. “It’s nothing,” he says petulantly. “It looks like Keith is about to experience an unmated lock without an impetus or precedent lock…but that’s quite impossible.”
Shiro’s eyes that dark red bar at the top of the screen. “And what would it mean if that wasn’t impossible?”
Grelt taps his chin. “Why, it would mean that an unmated lock without an impetus or precedent lock is possible!”
Shiro bites the inside of his cheek and reminds himself that patience yields focus. “Meaning…?”
Grelt sighs like Shiro is the one being difficult.
“Well you see, a lock is a physiological response that has been observed in multiple races, including Galra, that occurs when having intercourse with a mate,” Grelt explains, then says rather pointedly, “Ergo, it requires the individual to have a mate. During a lock, the vaginal canal clamps down around their mate’s penis or equivalent to improve the chances of impregnation. Experiencing a lock while not in the physical presence of one’s mate is quite rare, though possible. This is what we call the impetus—the intercourse with the mate, or else proper stimulation of the vaginal canal and a vehicle for the mate’s scent, if the mating bond is strong enough. We call that an unmated lock—experiencing a lock while not in the presence of one’s mate. And there has never been a single documented case of a Galra’s first lock being unmated. So as you can see,” Grelt claps his hands once in a sort of ‘that’s that’ gesture, “it’s impossible for Keith to lock.”
Shit, Shiro thinks. “Ok, but…despite all that, what if he did?”
“If he locked anyway?” Grelt says with a scoff. “Well then quite soon I imagine he’d be in a significant amount of distress, as the point of a lock is to prevent a mate’s genetic material from escaping the vaginal canal, and Keith would be stuck to an object that is incapable of providing that genetic material. I imagine that would be quite unpleasant. It might be traumatic enough to ruin his ability to lock again, who knows? But as I said, he can’t—”
“Get out.”
“I— what?”
Shiro gently frees his right hand from Keith’s grasp, and activates it. “Get. Out. Now.”
Grelt just stares at him for a moment, eyes reflecting the glowing blue from Shiro’s arm, before he yelps and books it from the room. Shiro smiles with grim satisfaction—the arm that replaced the giant floating one has extremely limited combat capability per Shiro’s demands, but it works great as a bluff. It isn’t even hot.
“Keith?” Shiro says, reaching up to squeeze Keith’s dangling hands. “Did you understand what Grelt was saying?”
“Mm. Need you,” Keith mumbles into the back of Shiro’s neck, which really doesn’t clarify anything.
“That’s right, baby,” Shiro says, “You need me and I’m gonna take care of you. But that means I’m going to have to look at you and— and fuck you.”
“Yes,” Keith hisses, fingertips gripping into Shiro’s shoulders. “Fuck me.”
“Soon, I promise,” Shiro says. “Just let me turn off these machines off and I’ll—”
The sight that greets Shiro when he turns to face Keith is unlike anything he could’ve imagined. He wishes he had more time to take it all in—the flush that paints his throat and chest, his puffy blush-colored nipples, his cute little cock, smaller than he expected, and the chubby lavender-flushed lips of his pussy, split wide around the dildo and so obscenely wet that Shiro has take just a moment to remember to breathe—and Shiro promises himself that he’ll give every inch of Keith’s body the attention it deserves, if Keith decides he even wants that after this is all over.
But Shiro can’t think about that right now.
The front of the machine Keith is sitting on is covered with dials and buttons that Shiro couldn’t even guess the function of. He reaches for the one metal toggle switch that’s slightly larger than the others and flips it in the opposite direction, breathing a sigh of relief when it goes still and quiet.
Keith grunts and slumps forward, bracing himself with one hand on the saddle’s front edge, and the other gripping Shiro’s shirt tight to yank him back within scenting distance before he can move away to reach the switch on the cart.
“Unhh,” Keith grunts, lifting himself up a few inches and sliding back down with a wet smack. It’s a relief to see that Keith still can lift off of the dildo, but a glance over his shoulder shows Shiro that with Keith fully seated again, the band around the top looks darker than ever. He doesn’t have much time.
Keith moans and does the same thing again, the screen showing him squeezing and rippling around the dildo as he slowly starts to ride it, getting tighter each time he bottoms out.
“Keith, baby, I need you to stop for a second, ok?” Shiro says, setting his hands on Keith’s hips the next time he lifts up to try and keep him from sinking back down again. Keith moves like he doesn’t even hear him. His abs and thighs flex harder against the resistance, but it’s like Shiro’s not insignificant strength is nothing to him.
“Keith, hey.” Shiro tightens his grip. Keith whines into his neck, still not stopping.
“No,” he mumbles. “Jus’ a little longer. I c’n do it…I’m almost…”
Shiro swears and lifts Keith’s head from his shoulder as gently and quickly as he can. “I’m sorry, Keith,” he says with a firm kiss to Keith’s temple.
“Shiro, no!” Keith cries out as Shiro moves behind him, too far away to scent properly.
Shiro crawls up on the table behind him and, feeling disgusting, unzips his fly and takes his cock out, giving himself a few perfunctory strokes to get fully hard as if the sight of Keith’s plush ass, shiny with slick from his stretched wet cunt, of his straining thighs and curling toes, as if all of that isn’t going to haunt him every time he touches himself from now until the end of time.
“Here, baby,” he coos, placing his hands on Keith’s waist and trying to lift him off the dildo. “Let me—”
“No!” Keith sobs, almost screams, trying to tear Shiro’s hands off him. “No, please! I’m sorry, I’m sorry, please let me! I can do it, I’ll be good— no, no, no!”
Keith thrashes, fighting him with his whole being as Shiro uses every ounce of his strength to force Keith off the dildo before it’s too late, at the same time trying to soothe Keith with his words, for all the good it’s doing. “Shh, Keith, you’re so good, you’re so good, but you have to let go,” Shiro tries desperately. “It’s just a toy, it can’t give you what you need, please, help me help you baby, I’m trying to—”
Shiro grunts as he weathers a hard kick to the meat of his thigh, then hisses in pain as four lines of fire ignite from the back of his left hand down his forearm as Keith scratches him. Thick wet sounds echo in the room as Keith continues to move, faster now. In his periphery, the whole screen is so, so dark, and Shiro knows his time is almost up.
“Fine,” Shiro grinds out. Blind desperation has him fisting a hand in Keith’s hair and less than gently wrenching his head to the side. He sets his mouth against Keith’s ear and growls, “Be. Still.”
Going on instinct, he yanks the sticky node from the side of Keith’s neck, and replaces it with his teeth, sinking them in hard.
Keith yelps, then goes entirely limp so suddenly that Shiro just barely catches him. He’s heavy with compact muscle, but still much easier to lift than when he’s thrashing and fighting.
The sound he makes when Shiro’s got him fully off of the toy is heart-wrenching. “I’m sorry,” he whimpers, sounding so abject and defeated. “I’m sorry I couldn’t do it, I couldn’t make you feel good, Shiro, I’m sorry…I’m sorry I’m a bad mate…”
Shiro can’t risk unclamping his teeth and having Keith start fighting him again, can’t tell him how good and perfect he is, even as his heart breaks when Keith hiccups out a wet sob. All he can do is pull Keith backward, guide his slumped body into position, and hope that this is enough.
Keith jolts at the first pressure of Shiro’s cockhead nocking up against his entrance. “Sh’ro?” he mumbles thickly.
Shiro makes what he hopes is a comforting sound, and presses forward.
He’s thicker than dildo, and there’s a moment of pressure as he stretches Keith open around the flare of the corona. Then the head pops in and he sinks in like a dream. He means to stop about halfway in to let Keith adjust for a moment, but his teeth unlocked from the shock of the pleasure, and Keith sinks his weight back all at once, taking Shiro to the hilt.
Keith makes an ungodly sound and Shiro only has a moment to appreciate the warm, wet squeeze of him before Keith is coming with a wail, those ripples that Shiro saw on screen now choking up the length of his cock, and there’s nothing, no amount of mental preparation he could’ve made that would have braced him for the reality of how it feels.
He clutches Keith to him and groans helplessly, hips stuttering as if he could somehow get deeper while Keith’s cunt squeezes and squeezes him, then groans again at the sight of Keith’s cute, jutting little cock kicking and spilling into the tube that’s still sucking on him. Shiro’s has a moment’s jealousy of the clear, rubbery material because he wants to be sucking the come from Keith’s sweet cock, then all thoughts fly out of his head altogether as the pressure of all the ripples around his cock starts to coalesce at the tip.
“Please please please,” Keith is whimpering, head craning around to try and get at Shiro’s throat.
“Ssh, shh, I’ve got you,” Shiro soothes, tilting his head forward over Keith’s shoulder. “Just take whatever you need, baby, it’s all yours, you can have it.”
Keith makes a new noise, a trilling sort of moan muffled by the skin of Shiro’s throat, and Shiro has been inside Keith for all of thirty seconds but he already knows he’s not going to last. It’s probably for the best—stamina is not what Keith needs from him right now. Keith will get what he needs from Shiro sooner rather than later, especially if he keeps squeezing him like this.
“I’ve got you, I’ve got you,” Shiro coos, running his hands over Keith’s waist, hips, and thighs, making sure Keith feels him, that he knows he’s there.
“Shiro…” Keith moans, starting to pulse tighter around Shiro’s tip.
“That’s right, Keith,” Shiro breathes. “It’s me. I’m right here, I’ve got you.”
He turns his face into Keith’s throat again and licks the indentations left by his teeth before creating a seal with his lips and sucking at the swollen little nodule.
Keith gasps wildly, hands scrabbling for purchase on Shiro’s arms as his cunt ripples frantically up Shiro’s length. The sweat from Keith’s palms stings the cuts on his arms, but Shiro can’t care as Keith shoots off again, filling the clear tube with thick white pulses while he goes so tight around Shiro’s cockhead that it very nearly hurts.
It does hurt; that pleasure-pain balance would easily tip over to the wrong side if Shiro wasn’t so hard, wasn’t getting so close already, if Keith’s cunt wasn’t wrapped around him so deliciously to wring an orgasm out of him.
“Fuck,” Shiro grunts. “Just a little more, baby, ‘m getting close. You’re doing so good, feel so good on me, my beautiful, perfect mate.”
Keith whines and shoves his face back against Shiro’s throat, lapping at the skin and sweat. “Sh’ro…” he whimpers. “Need it, please, I’m almost…”
“Yeah, baby, yeah,” Shiro gasps, shifting his hips as much as he can with the very limited range of motion available to him. “Just a little…”
He palms up Keith’s belly and over ribs that heave with his panting breaths, and up to trace the hardened nubs of his nipples. Keith squirms and gasps when he circles his nipples with his fingertips, then makes that same trill-moan when Shiro begins to pinch and roll them between thumb and forefinger.
“Do you like that, baby?” Shiro croons, then groans when Keith’s pussy spasms in reply. “Yeah, yeah, think you can come again from this?” Shiro feels unhinged, his brain-to-mouth filter eroded to nothing. “Bet you can, squeezing me so good, Keith, fuck, just a little more, it’s like you’re, ah, fucking milking my cock—”
Half out of his mind, Shiro pinches harder, squeezes and twist Keith’s nipples to the sound of his rising cries, when he realizes suddenly that his fingers are wet. He has a moment of panic-induced clarity where he’s terrified that somehow Keith is bleeding, before he looks down and sees beads of thick, creamy fluid pearling up at the tips of Keith’s nipples and dripping onto Shiro’s fingers.
“Keith, Keith, are you— oh my god, I can’t believe— fuck that so hot, I—”
Shiro is so awestruck, so focused on watching each drop of milk that Keith’s nipples leak onto his fingers while he pulls and plucks at them, that he doesn’t notice his orgasm creeping up until it’s on him.
“Fuck, m’gonna come,” he gasps in a rush, his cock swelling and hardening that last impossible bit. “You’re so incredible, love you so much—”
Keith wails and shudders violently in Shiro’s arms, a rush of milk spilling between Shiro’s fingers to roll down his chest and belly and pool in the crease of this thighs, while his cock spurts over and over, twitching and throbbing in the tube that sucks it all up.
“Shiro!” Keith sobs, and clamps down around Shiro so hard that Shiro laughs through his moan as he throbs and starts to spill into Keith’s pulsing cunt, feeling like his orgasm is being dragged out of him as he comes for longer than he thought possible, each throb spilling hot and thick and delicious, his gorgeous mate wringing the come out of him until he’s well and truly spent.
Keith comes for even longer than Shiro, until finally the rippling contractions of aftershocks die down, just the occasional flutter or ripple keeping Shiro from going soft while the lock still keeps the head in a vice grip. Keith pulls the rubber tube from his cock, carelessly letting it fall to the floor with a wet plap, before he slumps back against Shiro’s chest, letting him take nearly all of his weight while they catch their breath.
“That was amazing,” Shiro murmurs into the quiet a few minutes later, when his sweat has started to dry tacky on his skin. “You’re amazing.” He wants to pet up and down Keith’s body, wrap his arms around his waist and squeeze him tight, but he’s unsure now about what touches are welcome. This was so far outside what they’ve done, or teased at through flirty text comms, or even what Shiro privately imagined on lonely nights. He takes Keith’s hands in his, lacing their fingers together. He clears his throat, sighs. “I know this wasn’t quite what you—”
Keith says, sharp and sudden, “Don’t.”
Shiro stops short. “Keith…”
“No, I just. You’re about to say you’re sorry and I just— Just don’t, ok?” His voice sounds thick and watery, and Shiro’s heart cracks. “B-because I’m not. It might not have been, y’know, the perfect candlelit lovemaking but it- it was you and that’s- that’s the only thing I care about. You protected me, and kept me safe and took care of me. So don’t say you’re sorry.”
“Oh, Keith,” Shiro breathes, wrapping his arms around Keith with their hands still clasped, squeezing and holding him close. “Then I’ll just say that I love you, and it means the world to me that you trusted me enough to let me be here for you.” He saves the even though I’m not sure I deserved it, even though I feel like I didn’t do enough to protect you, even though I should’ve never let it get that far, even though I feel selfish and guilty for letting that be your first time.
They’ll have time to talk later. They’ll need to talk about this later, but now is not the time to make Keith like he has to comfort Shiro.
“I love you, too,” Keith says with a sniffle. “It was never anyone but you.”
Shiro holds him and rocks him, wordlessly wiping away a few stray tears, eventually trading soft, aimless kisses until gradually Keith unlocks enough for Shiro to slip free. A gush of come and slick follows that Shiro blushes to look at.
“I’m a mess,” Keith chuckles tiredly, looking down at his body.
“Stay here for a sec,” Shiro says, giving Keith one last squeeze before climbing off the padded table. He locates some clean cloths in a cabinet beneath the bank of machines, turning off the machine on the cart so it’s finally actually quiet before returning to Keith to do his best to clean him up a little. He first removes all the sensors, dumps the blood pressure cuff and the oximeter and all the little sticky patches from his skin in a haphazard pile, then gently blots the sweat and leftover tear tracks from Keith’s face.
With a new cloth he wipes the milk from Keith’s chest while trying not to think about that too hard, catching a few stray droplets that leak out when he passes the cloth over his nipples.
Keith is quiet through the rest of the cleanup—not flinching when Shiro wipes between his legs and humming when Shiro turns wiping down his back into a brief impromptu massage—and Shiro doesn’t feel the need to start a conversation for the sake of it.
They have time.
Eventually, Shiro manages to get them both to a semblance of dressed and decent. The lab he leaves a mess, which he feels no guilt about whatsoever.
He escorts Keith back down the hallways, following the route he memorized while keeping Keith tucked tight beneath his left arm, his right arm glowing threateningly. He glowers at anyone who so much as glances at them, and no one stops them until they reach the guest room.
Allura rises from her seat the moment they step into the guest wing’s sitting room. “What in the world ha—”
Shiro suddenly feels the exhaustion of the last hour or so deep within his bones, and he realizes that all of his resentment toward Allura has fizzled out and now all he feels is tired. “I’ll fill you in on everything later,” he says. “We’re going to bed.”
Shiro thinks about asking Keith whose room he wants to go to, but he knows the answer. Keith doesn’t question it when they arrive at Shiro’s room, and Shiro leaves him in a filling bathtub just long enough to snag Keith’s belongings from his room and bring them back to his own.
Shiro takes a deep, exhausted breath, and closes the door behind him.
***
“Shiro?” Allura calls softly, as tentative as Shiro has ever heard her. He has a faint memory of her stopping by at some point to drop off some food for them, and Shiro being somewhat less than receptive to her company. “Physician Grelt is here. He wanted to check on you and Keith…”
Shiro groans and sits up, rubbing sleep from his eyes. Beside him, Keith makes an annoyed grunt, and Shiro looks down to see him blinking blearily awake. Fuck he’s so beautiful. “We have a visitor,” Shiro says quietly.
“Ugh,” Keith says, a sentiment with which Shiro very much agrees. “Fine.”
“Send him in,” Shiro calls.
Grelt storms into the room. “You!” he says far too loudly, pointing at Shiro. “And you!” He shifts his finger to Keith. “You withheld important information about the nature of your relationship that put yourselves, and me, at great personal risk! Why did you tell me that you aren’t mates?!”
“Well we weren’t at the time, by your definition,” Keith says reasonably in his sleep-scratchy voice.
“I mean we are now,” Shiro supplies helpfully.
Keith chuckles lowly. “Once or twice over at this point,” he says sotto voce.
Grelt huffs at them and crosses both pairs of arms.
“I am sorry if it ruined any of your data,” Keith offers. “I hope we can still—”
“The data?” Grelt says incredulously. “The data?” Grelt draws himself up to his full height, and Shiro braces for an earful. “The data was incredible! Even with imperfect readings there towards the end, the data we were able to collect is utterly invaluable! Not to mention the fluids you left behind! Remarkable! I still have much to do, of course, comparisons to be done, graphs to compare, spreadsheets to compile, such as that, but I truly think we’re close to a breakthrough for Kirlid-kind!”
“Oh,” Shiro says, entirely taken aback, and only cringing a little at the mention of fluids . “Well that’s great news.”
“Yes it is! It’s very great news!” Grelt grumpily uncrosses then recrosses his arms. “But the fact remains that you put yourselves in danger, not to mention me. I came to check on you because I was worried, but since you are clearly fine…as recompense for causing me great turmoil, Admiral Shirogane, I demand that you provide me a written description of the sensations of Keith’s lock and the movement of his internal muscles throughout your copulation.”
“Yeah,” Shiro says, as Keith snorts next to him. “I’m not doing that.”
“Well- well fine!” Grelt splutters, throwing all four arms up in the air and turning on his heel. “I’m glad you’re both alright!” he shouts, then slams the door behind him.
“Oh my god,” Keith giggles, leaning into Shiro.
“Well,” Shiro says, putting his arm around him and squeezing him close. “We gave Grelt the data (“and the fluids,” Keith giggles) that he wanted and also made sure that he would never want to work with us again. I think that’s just about the best case scenario we could’ve hoped for.”
There’s another light tap on the door. “Shiro and Keith?” Allura calls. “I need to speak with you both as well when you have a moment.”
“Well, what’s one more visitor while we’re both completely naked?” Keith chuckles.
“Enter at your own risk,” Shiro calls.
Allura comes in and immediately averts her eyes. “Glad to see you’re both…well,” she says. “The Kirl left yesterday to deal with an unrelated minor interplanetary dispute, and as the two of you were…indisposed, I met with her to finalize our negotiations, which have…changed, slightly. According to the Kirl, after a conversation with Shiro in the lab two days ago, Kirlin Jeff now believes that the concept of ‘true love’ that he learned of in Earth books is real, and is insistent on traveling to Earth to witness it for himself. The amended terms of the alliance are thus: Shiro will take on Kirlin Jeff and act as his guide around Earth for a period of two phoebs, and in exchange the Kirl has doubled the amount of dew crystals we had initially discussed.” She looks at Shiro. “Just what did you say to him?”
“Um.” Shiro thinks back, trying to even remember. “I think I told him that Keith was my mate and I’d tear apart the universe for him, and then I told him that he meant nothing to me and to get out.”
“Shiro!” Allura looks aghast and Keith breaks out in laughter.
Shiro feels only very, very slightly chagrined. “Well it worked didn’t it?”
Beneath the sheets, Shiro feels Keith’s hand land on his knee then start to travel higher up his thigh.
“I can’t believe—”
“Hey, Allura?” Keith says pleasantly. “Can you give us a moment? I’d like to talk to talk to Shiro alone, y’know, um, reprimand him. Properly. For his misconduct.”
Allura looks back and forth between them, then deflates and rolls her eyes in a very unprincessly manner. “Fine,” she says. “But you are going to take Kirlin Jeff around Earth and show him a nice time!” She turns on her heel and closes the door behind her.
“I can’t believe you said that to him,” Keith says, shifting to straddle Shiro’s lap. “That’s so hot.”
“You’re so hot,” Shiro counters, squeezing Keith’s hips and feeling himself begin to stir.
Keith smirks and leans down to kiss him, sliding his tongue between Shiro’s lips before pulling back. “Mm. In return for taking such good care of me…I’ll help you show the Kirlin around Earth.”
“How sweet of you,” Shiro chuckles, shifting his hips to line their stiffening cocks up.
“Shiro,” Keith says meaningfully, taking him by chin and turning his head so he’s looking into Keith’s eyes.
Shiro’s brow furrows as Keith’s words really sink in. “But- but you’ve got a mission right after this.”
A grin starts to split Keith’s face and he shakes his head. “Kolivan pulled me off of it. Said I was ‘working too hard.’”
“You? Never,” Shiro teases, feeling a glowing, hopeful sort of joy start to creep up his chest. “But you— you’re coming back to Earth with me?”
“I’m coming back to Earth with you,” Keith confirms, his voice cracking and eyes getting shiny as Shiro feels his own eyes well up, too.
“Keith,” is all Shiro can say while he grins and groans as Keith sinks down onto him in a single, delicious motion.
“I’m coming home,” Keith says, voice wobbly and wet as a tear spills down his lovely cheek, rocking down onto Shiro and capturing his lips to swallow his answering groan.
Shiro flips them in a movement that makes Keith gasp, wrapping him up in his arms and pleasuring him with his body and being pleasured in turn until Keith pulses and cries out for him and squeezes him so tight and Shiro spills with a garbled sound that means “I love you.”
They hold each other in the aftermath, breathing and kissing and crying just a little, and Shiro savors the moment without fear that he won’t get another.
They have time.