[ As if his nipples weren't hard enough without the swatting! He whines, laughter peeling through as he works his hips in tandem with the digits driving him open, a little breathier while his body adjusts, softening around their shallow thrusts. His grip fists in Keith's hair when fingertips brush over a sweet spot rarely given attention and Shiro arches immediately, sitting down hard on Keith's hand with a high-pitched whimper. Sweat shines down his arms and chest, flushed pink under white hairs; strawberry and cream, Keith's dessert. ]
I, ah! I ... don't know, [ he presses forward, hips squashing Keith to the couch, ] some Blade or ... or somebody else, when you left? Anyone would want you.
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I, ah! I ... don't know, [ he presses forward, hips squashing Keith to the couch, ] some Blade or ... or somebody else, when you left? Anyone would want you.