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Keith had always been quick to know when he wasn’t wanted. He’d spent a lifetime honing the skill, and could often figure it out before anyone else, making sure to slip out of situations soon enough that they never got awkward. Still, he’d underestimated how fast he’d become the center of attention at Shiro’s party. He waltzed through the front door, just late enough for it to not be fashionable anymore, and a hush fell over the living room in a wave as everyone noticed him. He almost laughed. He couldn’t pretend he wasn’t trying to draw at least some attention, though. He’d worn his tightest jeans, the pair that really showed off his ass and thighs. And, even though putting them on had made him feel like a petty teenager, he couldn’t help but sway his hips when he walked around in them.
See, the problem was that the party wasn’t solely Shiro’s. He was cohost with Curtis, his husband . They were celebrating their one-year anniversary and felt the need to do so as loudly as possible, like annoying straight people. Keith hoped the whole affair was some sort of overcompensation: a means of showing off just how happy they were, fuck you very much. As far as Keith was concerned, all celebrations of love needed to be spent quietly and alone, the only public facing portion being a nice fancy meal before going back home and fucking like rabbits. Then again, what did he know about anniversaries?
Unsurprisingly, Curtis was the first to greet Keith, getting up from the couch to wrap him in a half hug, keeping his arms awkwardly stiff, hovering above any real contact.
“We’re so glad you could make it,” Curtis said, sounding on the edge of ernest.
Keith didn’t say anything in response, but he smiled and nodded at Shiro, who clearly tried to return the gesture, but only ended up grimacing.
Rather than sitting down with the group, which consisted of the other paladins and a few Garrison officers, Keith wandered to the kitchen to pour himself a heaping glass of wine, having already missed out on the initial drinks being served. He heard Shiro say something he couldn’t quite make out, but he did catch Curtis’s response: “He was your best man, Takashi.”
Another thing the party marked was one year since Shiro and Keith had last talked, and a year and a day since they’d had any sort of genuine conversation. Shiro had been in Keith’s apartment, Curtis at another friend’s: the two were on a twenty-four hour pre-wedding separation lockdown to satisfy the old superstition. They were seated on Keith’s loveseat, legs touching, splitting a bottle of whiskey and mostly enjoying a comfortable silence.
"I said no," Shiro blurted out of the blue, causing Keith to jump slightly. "When Curtis proposed."
“What?” Keith furrowed his brow. "You proposed."
"Yea, a month later." Shiro downed the rest of his drink. There was over a shot left. "I told him that I'd already been planning something myself and didn't want to be upstaged, but really I was just chicken shit. Afraid of settling, I guess."
"So you’re ready now?" Keith asked, resting a hand on Shiro's thigh. If it was too high up to be friendly, blame it on the alcohol. “To settle, I mean. That’s what you want?”
"It's time."
"That's not what I asked."
Shiro crossed his legs and turned away, causing Keith’s had to slip off. He didn’t respond.
“It’s not too late,” Keith said, voice barely above a whisper, and leaned toward Shiro, who looked back at him. The two were close enough that Keith could feel him breathe. Neither pulled away.
“I’m getting married tomorrow.”
“That’s tomorrow.” Keith closed the gap between them slowly, but reckless nonetheless. They stayed like that for a moment, not moving in or out of the kiss, until Keith was the one who broke apart, briefly running his tongue along Shiro’s bottom lip as they separated.
“I should leave,” Shiro said after a pause, but remained seated.
“You can’t drive like this.”
“I’ll call Matt.” He stood, grabbing his jacket and heading for the door. “I can wait outside.”
Keith was still in the wedding party. That, apparently, was another thing it was too late to change. He gave his speech, said all the funny little pleasantries, then left Earth entirely for Blade missions until nearly twelve months later when he got a text from an unsaved number.
i’m sure takashi’s already messaged you, but just in case, we’d love to see you at our anniversary party this saturday!
"I have to admit, it's still a little weird seeing you drink." Shiro’s voice broke Keith from his reminiscing. He stood in the archway to the kitchen, arms crossed.
"I'm not a kid anymore."
"I can see that." Keith assumed the comment was meant to sound playful. It didn’t.
“If you’re gonna tell me to leave, I’m already on it. Just let me finish this glass first so there was a point to me being here. Cheers to your happiness.”
“Why’d you come?”
“Curtis invited me.” Keith placed extra emphasis on Curtis’s name, making Shiro wince.
“I didn’t think you cared about him.”
“Oh, I care a lot. Besides, our other friends are here. I haven’t seen them in a while.”
“You didn’t even say hello to them.”
“Everyone’s getting along fine without me –”
“Don’t say that.”
“– just like you.”
Shiro took a step forward. The fluorescent light of the kitchen highlighted the circles under his eyes and carved a line under his cheekbones. He looked emptied out, like a collapsing jack-o-lantern.
“I think about you a lot.” He continued toward Keith, stopped by the kitchen island that separated them. “I’ve missed you.”
“You don’t act like it.”
Shiro opened his mouth like he had something to say, but quickly sighed instead. “I’m sorry. I should have called. Curtis used to ask about you, you know.”
That made Keith laugh. “When’d he stop?”
“Only a few months ago.”
Keith paused to mull that over, taking in the silence. The two of them, alone in the kitchen, almost felt right in that moment. Like that’s where they should be. Like it was Keith’s house and he could do whatever he wanted.
God, did he want.
Keith stepped around the island to join Shiro as laughter erupted from the living room. He put his arms around the taller man’s shoulders, shifting up to his tip-toes in an attempt to match Shiro’s height, and marching right over the invisible line of appropriateness marked between them, without preparations in place for how to get back.
“Let’s give him something to ask about.”
Shiro threaded a hand through Keith’s hair as if on instinct, and Keith let out a sound that was torn between being a laugh and a moan. “This is how you’ve been thinking of me?”
Dipping his head down to Keith’s neck, Shiro nipped at the skin below his jaw. “I should have stayed, the night before…”
“I’m here now.”
It was Shiro’s turn to laugh. It was a hollow sound, devoid of joy. “We shouldn’t,” he said, but he didn’t pull away, instead nudging his knee up toward Keith’s groin to give him something to grind down on. Keith was the one who stopped, pushing back a little.
“You’re really going to do this?” he asked, grabbing Shiro’s hands. “You’re gonna fuck me right within earshot of your husband?”
Shiro half led and half dragged him down the hallway and up the stairs, but rather than going to the master bedroom, Keith was pulled to a bathroom, like they were having a quickie in a bar. Shiro slammed the door shut and locked it. Keith groaned in protest. He’d had his heart set on properly defiling a marriage bed.
“Locking this door is less suspicious,” Shiro reasoned, but that didn’t stop Keith from pouting. Rather than argue, though, he grabbed Shiro by the back of the neck and pulled him down for a proper kiss, finally, pressing him against the vanity. Shiro gave in this time, melting into him, letting Keith part his lips with his tongue and push inside. Shiro tasted like top shelf merlot. His left hand cupped Keith’s cheek, and Keith could feel the cold press of Shiro’s wedding band against his scar.
Shiro moved his head down to mouth at Keith’s neck, earning a mewl. Keith imagined spending forever there, letting Shiro mark up every inch of his skin, trying to chase after Shiro’s mouth when he pulled away.
Keith whined. “Only we’ll know they’re yours.” I’m yours.
“Sorry, baby.” Shiro nipped at him again and Keith moaned. “Is this all you want? To make out?”
That was decidedly not all Keith wanted, but, rather than say that, he reached a hand up Shiro’s shirt, running it along his broad, bare chest, dipping the other to cup his cock through his jeans.
Keith paused when he reached Shiro’s left nipple, fingers catching on something unexpected. He pushed Shiro’s shirt up to reveal a simple silver barbell.
“When’d you get this?” Keith asked, running his fingers across the piercing, reveling in how it made Shiro’s breathing hitch.
“About a year ago? Not quite.” Shiro laughed. “I wanted something to remind me I’m not old yet, and Curtis thought it’d be h–”
Before Shiro could finish his sentence, Keith latched his mouth over the nipple, sucking hard, feeling it stiffen as he ran his tongue back and forth. Shiro let out a ragged breath and Keith popped off, kissing down the rest of Shiro’s torso, stopping where happy trail met pants to work his belt loose and pull open his jeans.
As much as Keith wished he could take his time, tease Shiro, unwind him without even taking off his underwear, he had to be pragmatic. He pulled Shiro’s cock out over the waistband of his boxers, hard and heavy, already leaking at the tip.
“Fuck,” Keith moaned. “You’re even bigger than I thought you’d be.”
“Do you think about it often?”
“Every day since we met.”
Keith gave Shiro’s cock a couple loose strokes while sinking to his knees. He undid his own fly with his other hand before shoving it clumsily into his pants, thrusting two fingers into his hole, gasping. He was already soaked completely through his briefs, so there was only minor friction.
“You’re so pretty,” Shiro said. “All worked up, aren’t you, baby?”
“For you, Daddy,” Keith replied, unthinking.
There was a pause, and Keith was mentally preparing to book it, until Shiro laced his fingers through Keith’s hair, tugging at his scalp. Keith purred. He leaned in and lapped the precum off of Shiro’s cock, bringing the head into his mouth and sucking lightly.
“I bet Curtis doesn’t call you that,” Keith said in between licks. “He’s never felt how it makes your cock twitch, how turned you are for me, Daddy.” Keith slowly sunk his head all the way down, holding eye contact with Shiro until his nose was buried in the hair at his base. Keith let his eyes flutter closed and hummed, swirling his tongue once before pulling back up, licking up the side of Shiro’s shaft before bobbing down again.
Shiro’s phone vibrated in his back pocket.
Keith’s eyes shot open and he reached for the phone, but Shiro was faster, untangling one hand from Keith’s hair. He paled when he read the caller ID, but answered anyway, bringing it to his ear before Keith could see who was on the other end.
“What’s up, sweetheart?” Shiro’s voice was impressively stable. He jerked Keith off of his cock, clamping his remaining hand over Keith’s mouth. “Oh, sorry. I’m in the upstairs bathroom.”
Keith shifted his head so he could nuzzle against Shiro’s palm. He took Shiro’s thumb into his mouth, sucking on it intently, looking back up to see that Shiro was staring at him, keen eyed.
“Keith? I don’t know. He might have left already.” Keith reached over and ran his fingers lightly along the length of Shiro’s cock, smiling when his breath hitched. “He’s never really liked parties.”
Suddenly, Keith got a dangerous idea. He pried Shiro’s fingers off of his face and stood, one hand clamped at the bottom of Shiro’s cock. He wriggled his jeans and briefs both down to his knees, only bothering to step out of them with one leg, then turned around. He hiked a leg up – propping it on the sink – so he could get the correct angle to line his pussy up to Shiro, spreading himself. He lowered himself quickly, with conviction. Keith wished he could see Shiro’s face but settled for savoring the stretch he provided instead. Shiro was so thick that there was still pleasant resistance, despite Keith being so wet.
“No, swee–” Shiro sucked in a particularly sharp breath when Keith bottomed out. “Sweetheart. I’ll be back down in a minute. I didn’t want to hog the guest bathroom.” He chuckled. It sounded delirious. “I love you, too.”
Shiro dropped his phone on the bathroom counter with an echoing thud, grabbing onto Keith’s hips before it even made contact. “Brat,” he grumbled.
“Me?” Keith asked. “Or your husband, for rudely interrupting us?”
Shiro drew his hips back and slammed into Keith, pressing into his g-spot. Keith yelped, and Shiro took a hand off his hips to once again move to Keith’s mouth, but, rather than cover it, he slid three fingers between Keith’s lips. Keith reflexively closed his mouth around them, sucking as Shiro pushed them in to the base knuckles. Shiro repositioned his other hand to stroke over Keith’s cock. Keith tried to buck into the touch, but Shiro held him still.
“I've got you, baby,” Shiro growled into Keith’s ear. “I’m going to make you cum on my cock, just like you want. Just like you asked for when you walked into my house in those slutty little jeans.”
Shiro pulled his hand away from Keith’s dick to spank him hard on the ass, the sound loud and unmistakable. Keith thought about Curtis coming upstairs, standing outside the bathroom, and hearing them fuck, skin against skin. He drooled, too far gone to be embarrassed about how wet he was making Shiro’s fingers.
Keith could feel himself getting close, and Shiro pulled his fingers from his mouth.
“You’re so tight. You’re about to cum for me, baby?”
“Yes, Daddy,” Keith whined, trying to get enough leverage to fuck himself on Shiro, who held tight, keeping him from moving. Shiro thrust harder but kept pace until Keith was cumming, cunt constricting on his cock. Shiro’s fingers found their way to Keith’s mouth again, so he figured he must be making too much noise, but couldn’t hear himself over the blood pounding in his ears.
Shiro fucked Keith through his orgasm, keeping him held up with the arm not keeping him quiet, slowing down as he came, too, panting loudly into Keith’s hair.
The two stood like that – in silence, locked in embrace, Shiro’s cum oozing down Keith’s leg – for a few minutes, until Keith pulled his leg off the counter, awkwardly trying to regain his balance. Shiro lifted Keith off his cock and spun him around so they were facing each other; he had one one arm wrapped around Keith as support, using the other to wet a washcloth, hastily wiping them both clean. Shiro was still clearly disheveled, and Keith stole a glance at the the mirror to see exactly how well-fucked he looked.
“I won’t wait another year to call you,” Shiro said.
Keith stepped back into his pants, wincing as the fabric made contact with his still soaking hole. He kissed Shiro, nothing but a brief peck, and made for the door.
“Happy anniversary,” Keith said, grinning wryly and letting the door slam shut behind him.