keith. (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
parakalein) wrote2018-12-18 11:21 pm
parakalein) wrote2018-12-18 11:21 pm
open post. (sfw + nsfw)
starters. quotes. tflns. prompts.
starters. quotes. tflns. prompts.
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starters. quotes. tflns. prompts.
kicks in here nsfw
BREATHES HEAVILY
It's enough.
It's enough when Keith slumps onto Shiro's naked chest and feels the thundering of his heart, fresh off a particularly intense orgasm that had made Keith see white, Shiro crying out into the palm of Keith's hand. It's enough that they've found a home in each other, even if it's difficult for the younger man to ever admit. Shiro had never turned him away, and for a moment Keith allows himself simply to feel. Their stomachs are sticky with Shiro's seed, Keith still buried balls-deep inside of him, and he turns his face up wordlessly to seek out a kiss all the same. ]
Been awhile.
[ Is all he manages, romantic as ever. It's been awhile since they were given leeway to be intimate; been awhile since they could properly make love instead of rushed quickies and unsatisfying endings, their minds set on the enemy at the gates instead of each other. Now, Keith fully intends to take advantage of what they've been given, rolling his hips briefly even if he's softened up inside him: one thing about being a teenager -- your libido's off the damn charts, and refractory periods are largely a myth (okay, they're not, but still). ]
ya thirsty
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galra!shiro unf
Shiro, being in the middle of the bridge when the spacetime collision occurred, was hit with the strangest alternate-reality of all, the blast strong enough to knock him out. When he woke up ...
He was galra.
Is, for the time being. It freaks him out initially to be over seven-feet tall and the owner of a tail that swats wildly, his Altean arm swapped for an approximation of his old galran one, literally twice the size of the tallest and broadest human aboard. So, apparently in the reality that smacked Shiro on his ass, the Alteans are evil and the Galra are the good guys ... or something like that, as he explains it to his friends. He can feel the Other Shiro somewhere beneath the surface, blended into his mind like the clone. Still, he carries out his duties and everyone gets on with the job of reshaping reality back to normal, leaving him some time to stop panicking in the privacy of his own cabin.
He bangs his forehead on the door on the way in, overlarge ears lowering reflexively in pain. ]
Ouch ...
[ Sitting on his couch, he slumps and inspects his fingers both metal and flesh, plum-dark fur scattered over his wrists where it leads under the Marmoran uniform that transmuted from his captain's clothes. He supposes he should be grateful the other universe's Shiro wears anything, some of the crew weren't so lucky.
That's where he hides, answering his pad in the secluded quiet. ]
UNFFFFF I LOVE THIS
Keith is no stranger to the craziness that sometimes happens whenever they venture into strange territory, but there are times when shit gets way too weird to do anything but just go along and find a way to end it, as soon as possible. Now is one of those times -- Keith is spared a headache in terms of his own doppelgangers/counterparts (he doesn't actually have one, which is troubling in itself, but that's for the other reality to deal with), but he and Shiro have been busy working with Pidge and the others to figure out a solution to the problem, and fast. He can't have their usual operations disrupted for long; what if trouble comes knocking?
And speaking of knocking, Keith immediately notices a glaring absence: Shiro's excused himself from the rest of them. While his older lover's unexpectedly startling appearance as a Galra had come as a shock, as did the character alignment of the species in general, Keith's more or less accepted it -- it's easier to process it when you know that it's most likely temporary, but it's obvious to Keith, in the glimpses he'd caught of him during the heat of discussion, that Shiro's not taking it well.
Not that Keith can blame him, honestly. It's a huge leap from human to Galra, and while Keith, oddly enough, finds the Galra version of Shiro very comely and attractive, he's certain the man has other ideas -- a theory cemented by his retreat to his quarters, most likely.
And so Keith goes to find him, scant minutes after Shiro retreats, because there's no way in hell he's going to leave him to his own devices, not when he's clearly distressed. Hell, the tail must be A Lot to deal with; Keith's been accidentally swatted with that thing so many times, he'd lost count.
Keying in the code (after all, on some occasions his quarters are Keith's, too; they're still trying out the Keith-and-Shiro-living-together-thing), he steps in when the door slides open, padding in quietly, his voice laced with unmistakable concern. ]
Shiro? What's wrong?
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overflow.
[ oh, he'll check your work all you want, babe. but mostly he's kind of embarrassed at shiro's blatant trust in his skills -- he never wants to let him down. ]
i'll stick around. you being there makes it more bearable anyway.
take a bath with me, then i'll check your work. deal?
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i'll make sure we're seated across from iverson so you can watch the expression olympics when the ambassador starts talking about fuel prices
mmm, you drive a hard bargain but i think can do it
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morning after coffee
his other arm is somewhere on the floor, inactive and quiet until he needs it, which is now. it hums just as lazily as the rest of his body does, the too-bright light bleeding behind his closed eyes as it comes to rest beside him and follows the same calibration as his normal arm - one, two, three, four, thumb, palm, wrist, no cracks just the steady humming altean wonders and metal.
eventually he throws off the blankets, slides bare feet onto the cold cabin floor as he makes his way over to the nook - ten paces. keith is already there and there's coffee too, hot and black and smelling like a godsend. but shiro's hands don't go for the coffee immediately. instead, he slides a cool hand onto the counter, the warmer one tracking and situating itself underneath keith's shirt as he gives him an indulgent kiss on the neck and hums. ]
Morning, tiger.
[ another soft kiss, this time to the scar on keith's cheek, and again to his ear, lingering, breathing him in, pressing flush and relishing in the early morning doziness of the scene that lacks the klaxons and bright lights of the bridge. ]
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it's unmistakable, the rustle of movements soft as silk in the morning's serenity -- or whatever passes for morning on the ship. he lingers because these moments are few and far between, when shiro's asleep in bed -- their bed, how strange, he's starting to come to terms with the change -- and he can only imagine what he would look like in his mind's eye. sleep-tousled and achingly gorgeous, that wide expanse of chest dotted with keith's lovebites; after all, keith has a tendency towards the possessive. it's a complicated thing, straddling fine lines of insecurity, the fear that shiro would one day leave him (again), and the near-shy but potent desire to take care of what's his.
shiro takes a minute or two to come awake fully, and even though he's messing about with preparing the coffee, he tracks his quiet movements, right up to that near-silent padding towards him. he's sipping his own coffee, smiling widening against the rim of his cup as the smell of coffee curls in the morning air, reveling in the warm splay of that large hand over his stomach.
he's humming when he turns his head just a little, nuzzling against his lips when he feels every inch of that magnificent body mold against him, folding and curling into every hollow of him, filling his heart anew. shiro completes him, he thinks. shiro makes mornings worth it. ]
Coffee's right there, in the pot.
[ he murmurs, kissing his jaw in return and not even minding the morning breath. and yes, oh, he feels that familiar bulge pressed up against him. not hard yet, not really, but welcome nonetheless. ]
'Tiger'? You must be feeling frisky.
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mediocre beans is my new favorite phrase for subpar coffee.
GLAD TO BE OF SERVICE
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fratboy au.
all good things end.
when he wakes up he's going to have to leave this time, and no amount of puppy dog eyes or quiet begging will keep him in place. shiro strokes his hair ever so gently, wondering why his heart seizes in his chest at every soft exhalation that hits his neck. minutes stretch on. he's about to figure that keith is just a late sleeper, when - startlingly, shiro's alarm clock goes off. fucking idiot. keith stirs and the magic spell is broken, and shiro reaches over to shut off the alarm.
he doesn't really drink at the parties, mostly because he always has early days of going for jogs at the crack of dawn. he doesn't usually have people sleeping with him in his bed, so the courtesy of turning it off didn't occur to him until just now, as he watches keith grumpily move around from where he's nestled in shiro's blankets. cute. leaning over, he presses a kiss to keith's forehead. )
Sorry I woke you. You can go back to bed.
( please, please go back to bed. it'd be weird to fit himself back under keith's body, so he just sits on the edge of the bed, eyeing his sketch pad. drawing people while they're sleeping is creepy, shiro. don't do it. )
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[ keith asks, low and quiet. his words are sleep-fogged but clear, and he shifts at the ache between his legs because holy fuck if shiro isn't one of the biggest guys he'd ever fucked. his cock is definitely legendary, surpassing even the most rosy assessment of shiro's prowess in bed. keith is shifting at the alarm, blinking blearily when the alarm is immediately shut off -- it's cute, he thinks, although a part of him wonders if it's simply another way to indicate that he's outlived his welcome.
it doesn't seem like it, when shiro says he can go back to bed, but he frowns lightly when he sees him perched on the edge of it, gorgeous and muscular and absolutely beautiful in the morning light. their steamy, lurid encounter the night before comes back to him, making his toes curl with memories. he's a burrito in shiro's covers, but he misses the other man's warmth more than anything.
he's blinking, and with that brings a little more focus -- is shiro looking at... a sketch book? it looks like a sketch book. or a notebook? he doesn't make to leave, not yet, but he's languidly bringing himself up, blankets draped over his lean body so that he can press lazy kisses to shiro's shoulder, lingering near the seam where flesh meets prosthetic. ]
Something wrong?
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he's coming with us
he'll have to sit on your lap
his name is cheetos
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why is his name cheetos
where did you get him
why
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1/2
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cain.
I'll leave some for you while I hit the showers.
[ because he's not going out with him all sweaty. ]
Where are we going?
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[Meanwhile, he's jogging halfway across the garrison to reach Keith's location, a cold water bottle in hand. He'll likely reach the training room after Keith's already slipped into the showers, but - that doesn't slow his step.]
you had fun last night didnt you?
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shiro. tfln.
im okay, i don't think i drank any.
at least, i don't smell like i did.
saw anyone in my room last night?
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i don't think so? i'll check with the princess, i saw the mice earlier collecting snacks and i wonder if they were collecting everything
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did u piss the mice off keith
ahsjdjjf he was being nice!!!
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allura's been having fun dressing baby ari up
:)
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how was daddy duty?
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mafia au.
shiro's been tracking keith's underbelly movements for the better half of the last two years. keith, that is, the keith, the leader of the mafia which is the least of all the crimes tacked onto his name. his file is as thick as the bible, and that's only with the things shiro's been able to put his name to. trying him isn't the problem. he has more than enough evidence to seat him in a life sentence at a high security prison. the issue is in finding him. shiro can say with full confidence that he is more well protected than the president of the united states, and few people could even give you a physical description of what he looks like. most of his employees have never seen him once, and shiro.
shiro's met him a few times.
every time, he's been bested, of course. keith slithers out of his grip. he isn't naive enough to think he's just a good enough detective to capture him - this is all part of a better, bigger scheme he's planning up. he makes it known on an evening when shiro is crunching numbers at the station, chugging coffee and clocking in overtime hours. keith saunters right up and says he'd like to commit himself.
he won't talk to anyone but shiro. locked in an interrogation room, hands chained to the desk before him, he tells shiro he has a compromise they can come to. in three days time, the most notorious black market dealer, lotor, is holding his annual 'bad doers' party down in south america, at an undisclosed location, wherein all the baddest of the bad will be housed at his hotel-made summer home for two weeks of vacation time. he'll take shiro there to gather intel, and effectively take out his competition, and in return for this and future cooperations with the police, keith will go chalk free. file in the garbage.
shiro thinks he's absolutely full of it. he's thinking it on the ride to south america, too, in keith's plane, keith watching him out of the corner of his eye.
he bleached his entire head before the trip, in an effort to look less like a cop. keith compliments on it as they step off the plane, and shiro pretends not to understand why his stomach feels hollow and heavy at the same time.
he's playing the undercover role of keith's husband - designed solely so shiro never takes his eyes off him for the entire two weeks of partying. it's ... a lot of closeness. shiro's keeping his guard as up as he can, but there are moments anyone would falter. he always remembers, though, regains himself, tosses himself back into his work with renewed vigor. right now he's fiddling with his bug tech, eavesdropping in on a conversation about drug smuggling at the lavish pool they have a view of from their room. keith is flopped on the bed, likely moping because he's bored.
after awhile of this, shiro leans back, cracks his neck and all his fingers, before standing up to nudge keith's leg with the point of his toe. he holds his hand out. )
Let's go. We should let people see us together.
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everyone can be bought, just like he's just bought his own freedom. and just like he will continuing buying his through a ruthless attention to detail, a league of failsafes, and a clever hand. the only person who has caught up to him so far is shiro -- the man is relentlessly clever, smart beyond even keith's estimations, which had of course set the man firmly on his radar. it helps, of course, that he's easy on the eyes, with the kind of smile that would make even the most hard-hearted man melt, and a warmth that keith has long dismissed as unnecessary.
shiro is the kind of good that keith had given up for myth; his dogged pursuit of justice had caught keith's attention, his stubbornness keith's affection -- in him he finds someone enthralling, clever and driven and a worthy adversary and, presently, partner. keith's doing him a lot of good, after all. it's dangerous, harboring affections for a cop, of all people, but shiro is the single most compelling creature he's ever crossed paths with, his valiance and charisma unmistakable; in a world of men he stands above, beyond them.
keith had killed many in his time, but it would be such a pity to kill him -- there won't be one like him, not for a long, long time. which, of course, leads to keith unofficially staking an unspoken claim on the man. cops lead dangerous lives in their line of work, but keith has always had kept an eye out for him, delivered unto shiro the occasional big fish just because he could (and when it made the most fiscal sense to him).
keith has grown fond of this man beyond professional interest, and so when shiro agreed to pretend to be his husband, keith is pleased. how many would kill to have someone this deliciously handsome on their arm? the man is tall, broad-shouldered with a ridiculously handsome face, sculpted like he had been a gift from the gods, but his lack of airs about the whole thing only makes him even more attractive to him and everyone with a pulse. keith turns up at lotor's as a cherished representative of the mysterious keith -- after all, a criminal mastermind who has skeins and skeins of webs all around the world will want to limit the people who's seen his face as much as possible. after all, not even omerta can keep some tongues from wagging. shiro, as it seems, is one of the prized few who's seen his real face.
he's lazing on the bed now, admiring shiro as the man dedicates himself fully to his work. he's stretched on the bed and -- well, yes, moping, because he's bored out of his mind and a bored keith is never a good thing, even with a shiro-shaped eye candy to take the edge off. perhaps it would do to court shiro, to have the man fall in love with him and see where it goes.
he takes his hand, after a moment, but he doesn't get up. instead, he's running his thumb over those calloused digits. ]
Mm. You haven't eaten yet, have you?
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vanishings.
oh, keith has always had an idea -- but it still makes his heart race to know that shiro would say it outright. after all, shiro is keith's biggest weakness, too. ]
I think I like hearing you say it.
Do you ever think about my mouth around your cock when you're driving? I'd just lean over, unzip you and take you in deep. You could choke me, just like that, while you speed up on an open road.
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I have thought about it before, yes. The last time we took a trip into town to pick up those supplies.
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he has to be creative, when it comes to keith. because keith is his mentor, his instructor, and it brings a new layer on top of everything else. something new to be accounted for.
cain isn't defiant enough to deny a sexual attraction on first look. what's not to like? keith is lean and muscular, just the right division between pretty and hot that makes cain's toes curl in his boots during every instruction. he doesn't have any intention of acting on it, of course, because his position with the mfes is too important to risk on thinking with his cock. but, then. he catches keith's gaze lingering from the corner of his eyes, this quiet and unspoken thing which cain knows very well he'd eventually learn to ignore with enough patience. he doesn't offer it.
instead, this. he takes to finding a new little cadet after every lesson, cupping his hand under pert asscheeks and whispering something in their ears to make their dicks hard and their stomachs melt. today it's someone with dark hair and sharp features, very much in keith's image, although the duplication of the color of his eyes is impossible. cain picks the closest option he has tonight, sliding his fingers against the curve of the boy's ass with a rough squeeze, these tight skin suits leaving no matter of arousal up to the imagination.
he watches keith while his tongue dips into the boy's ear, the two of them slowly making their way to the showers behind the crowd. your move, galra. take it or leave it. )
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he's not immune to cain's primal, feral charms, attraction struck in the first few minutes of their meeting that keith has always successfully pushed down. it complicates things, sex, but it's such a visceral thing that winds in his blood, a beast that presses up against his better judgement and threatens to rend it to ribbons.
cain is raw, ferocious, like a burning flame that would scorch everyone and everything in his way -- he's dangerous the way forest fires are, but just as beautiful, powerful, a force of nature that makes him the most gifted of his peers. in him, keith sees something of his younger self, but he was never this bold, this sensuous; and when cain locks onto him, keith knows.
he knows, he can practically taste the hunger, sharp like a knife when he flings the cadets in his face. cain always likes to make sure that he sees this, and when keith can practically make out the shape of this pretty young cadet's dick through his skintight suit, again, he understands the taunt for what it is.
he follows when the others leave, staying right at the entrance to the showers as jealousy licks at the edge of his consciousness. quiet, unspoken, like the attraction between them that courses like a livewire. cain is testing him, again and again, and keith is tired of stifling his own baser needs.
god, he really hates cain. he hates that he wants to fuck him, wants to open him up for himself and fill himself with him. he wants to be the one purring in his ear, making him shake, gripping him when his knees give way -- ]
Kendall. [ he says sharply, and he hates himself for not hating himself for this. ] Leave.
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kuron got to keep HIS OWN DAMN BODY au
it's only when the room comes into focus that shiro's mind is finally anchored, and everything comes rushing back like a dam bursting - the clone facility, the fall, keith jumping after him as they fall into the vast emptiness of space.
fear gets replaced with something a lot more vicious, a lot more brutal, and he's bolting up, heartbeat racing as his mind centers around one question:
is keith alive?
it's only then that he realizes he's in the cargo hold of black, that he's missing an arm, and that he's not alone in the dark.]
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perhaps also, it's because he grinds in the laps of men who know a diamond in the rough when they see it. and are paying for him to do so.
shiro saunters into the strip club an hour after opening, when all the patrons are already seated and comfortable in their settings. it was a late shift at work again, so he arrives in an expensive, two piece suit, fitted to his large frame like a glove. he pays the entry fee and helps himself to the bar, immediately scanning the floor for keith. he isn't difficult to find — everyone is drawn to him regardless, the majority of patrons crowded around his stage and pole. scantily clad, he dances and flips across it like swimming through water. shiro swallows down a dryness in his throat, watching him move, heels accentuating that peachy ass of his, tight clothes showing off his lean figure.
he almost growls when someone slips a bill in his g-string — although, by the looks of it, he's not the first. nor the last, since other people are waving their bills around him, begging for attention as keith dances around to each of them, collecting their cash.
it's when he plops down in someone's lap that shiro makes his approach. he sits on a nearby, mostly unpopulated plush chair, waving up a thick roll of cash to the passing by waiter. he brings the money over to keith, and points in shiro's direction.
it doesn't matter how much the man he's dancing on paid to have him there — shiro always, always has more. )
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shiro is the best thing that's ever happened to him, all things considered; the man is filthy rich, but more than that, he has a monster cock that keith just about loves; despite keith's attitude he is quite the size queen, and oh, hell had he been sold when he'd seen him with his pants off. now, however, he's at work, and shiro's somehow made his way in -- not that it's surprising, this place was how they'd met, too, and he strides in looking like he'd looked all those months back when keith had first set eyes on him (and so did half the clientele). he's graceful, strong, commanding, but keith's at work and he's always been dedicated to his job, so he continues with the nearest john, teasing, taking their money without guilt and landing in one star-struck client's lap.
it didn't last long, because lance is coming up to him with a roll of cash, whispering in his ear and pointing in shiro's direction, and keith exhales -- shiro's in a mood tonight, it seems, because all that cash in that fat wad aren't one-dollar bills, they're twenties. keith murmurs a soft apology, takes the wad and saunters over to shiro like they're still strangers, tucking the stack into the waistband of his briefs.
oh, shiro. he smiles, small and wicked, and pretends he doesn't know him. ]
What will it be tonight, mister?
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