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It takes a full phoeb for Keith's druga premanza to settle down and leave him fully changed. Thankfully, his new fangs take far less time than that to stop hurting, and Atlas ceases having to acquire and produce vast amounts of specially frozen treats for him.
Shiro doesn’t even bother to pretend that he finds Keith’s fangs anything other than incredibly sexy. And just because Keith has stopped teething, does not mean he doesn’t still like to have things in his mouth. Shiro is deeply happy to provide his prosthetic hand for Keith’s pleasure. He dials the pain settings down, but leaves on the sensation, relishing in the pressure of Keith fangs and the soft, absent minded drag of his tongue over the blue veined exoskin. Playing with Keith’s teeth quickly becomes one of his favourite things to do, and Keith indulges him whether they are alone or not.
Shiro knows that if Matt has his way, they would be banned from the ship. But Atlas would never allow it, and she is good at instructing the bridge crew when Shiro is otherwise occupied by rubbing his thumb over the sharp points and smooth sides of Keith’s teeth.
Late puberty leaves Keith purple all over, his skin deepening in shade day by day until it is an almost perfect match of his mother’s. The stripes, which were only ever previously visible when Keith had gone feral and non-verbal during sex, become a permanent feature, the deepest violet against his rich lilac skin. When Keith wears casual clothes, the sight of the one which curves over his shoulder through a scoop necked tee makes Shiro's mouth go dry. Once, Keith stretched in a meeting causing his shirt to ride up, and the slice of a deep purple stripe curving over his hip bone forced Shiro to grab his boyfriend – make some terrible, paltry excuse which he knows absolutely no one believed – and drag Keith away to fuck him in the nearest storage closet. Since then Atlas has been adept at soundproofing whatever room the pair of them happen to be in, even at short notice.
Keith has stopped being embarrassed about his fangs, and his skin, though he's still not fully comfortable with the pointed tips of his ears and people noticing them. He's not always aware when he moves them, and Shiro finds it endearingly sweet.
*
They are on a rotation through the Phelexian system – home to four Coalition planets and a space mall slash way station of considerable size – when Shiro receives a message from Krolia. She has been back to visit her kit and coo with unbridled delight at his new appearance, but has since departed on another mission. This time, she is acting as bodyguard to a group of Coalition envoys who are meeting in the Milky Way.
Shiro knows that Keith’s relationship with his mother is good, but very different from the one he shares with his own parents, and he tries not to feel too sad to see Krolia go again so quickly. Keith is only happy for her, so Shiro wants to be too. But three quintants after they stand and wave her off from the secondary hanger where most of the Blades park their jets, Shiro’s PADD pings with a message from his boyfriend’s mother; and notably, it has been sent only to him.
Keith is – almost comically – bad at responding to messages unless they are actual emergencies, and even before they got together pretty much everyone has been copying Shiro into Keith’s mail as standard practice. Atlas even colour codes Shiro’s mail into things for him, things that need the both of them, stuff just for Keith, and a special folder of ‘random crap sent from Lance which probably isn’t important.’ It’s no one’s fault, but Altean-Earth crossover memes make him feel old and out of touch.
This message is marked for both of them, but the colour bar at the top does not have Keith’s distinctive red stripe, which means it is not one copied to them both.
Krolia is a woman of few words generally, and even less when using written communication.
Message from Krolia:
Remember, Keith will need extra calories for czas parzenia. Have fun.
Because most of the message is written in English, there is not automatic translate option, and a silent request to Atlas only pulls up references to time and brewing. Frowning, Shiro makes a note to speak to Thace about getting hold of more Galra resources for Atlas to work her translation software out on. Of all the languages on board, it is the one with the least available information. The Empire wasn’t keen on using anything more than the bare basics, and Shiro hates to think how much of original Galra culture has been lost.
Shiro resolves to speak to Keith about his mother’s message. He puts it to the back of his mind as he settles himself behind his desk – glad to have an office away from the bridge, especially now that Atlas has both Allura and several other co-pilots – ready to read through the missives on the Coalition planets they will be visiting soon.
He is four pages and a confusing description of local flora into the documentation from the planet Yihine when Atlas chimes softly and lets him know that someone is approaching his office door. Shiro places a virtual marker on his page, reminding him to forward this section to Colleen Holt, and turns to the door just a sit slides open. He has a general policy of being freely available to the crew and passengers of the Atlas, but the serious look on his visitor’s face has him asking Atlas to lock his door without a word.
“Lotor… what can I do for you?”
The former Prince of the Galra arches a perfectly plucked silver eyebrow at him and slumps down into a free seat.
Well, slumps isn’t quite the right word, because though Lotor appears to just artlessly collapse, he still manages to exude refined grace and perfect poise as he places a small box in his lap, the folds of his richly embroidered tunic draping perfectly about his legs. He looks like a work of art.
“The question is, dear Captain, what I can do for you.” Lotor smirks. “How is Keith?”
“Fine.” Shiro knows they have been pretty shameless recently wherever on the ship they happen to be, but suddenly with Lotor sitting in his office, Shiro is hyper-aware of the bold red teeth marks showing above his collar. He resists the urge to hide them.
“I’m so glad he got both sets of fangs.” Lotor licks his own as he grins. “It’s nice to have someone to match with.”
“You’ll never get him dressing like you though.”
“I wouldn’t be so sure of that, Captain.”
Lotor’s eyebrows are terribly expressive, and suddenly Shiro doubts his confident tone. Not that he wouldn’t want to see Keith in the kind of traditional Galra dress Lotor effortlessly sports. Keith looks fantastic in everything, but Shiro wouldn’t mind seeing his legs sliding in-between silk tunic panels. Shiro blinks forcefully, fully aware that he’s letting his imagination and libido run away with him, and that Lotor can probably smell the arousal coming off him.
“I brought you supplies for his czas parzenia,” Lotor says with a gesture to the box in his lap. He shoots Shiro a knowing glance. “You do know he’ll have his mating season soon, right?”
“His- what?” Shiro is fairly certain there’s a problem somewhere in the connection between his brain and his ears. “Sorry?”
“Czas parzenia,” Lotor repeats, as though explaining a basic concept to a particularly stupid child. “Mating season.”
Brewing, the translation software had said. Bonding, the drop-down list had suggested. All of a sudden, Shiro is terrified that there are other major holes in the dictionary, and maybe he’s said something utterly horrific to someone over an email at some point. He wonders how quickly Atlas can scrub his entire message history. He should say something, ideally something smart. But what ends up coming out of his mouth is;
“But there aren’t any seasons in space.”
Lotor presses his fingertips to his temples, a gesture familiar from a dozen table strategy tables and far more games of Monsters and Mana, and he huffs so hard it ruffles his perfectly coiffed bangs.
“You’re right of course.” He sounds resigned, as though this is not the first time he has had this conversation. “Galra have been a space faring race for so long now that natural gravity is strange to us. And our mating seasons are no longer governed by a planet. It has been too long since Daibazaal for even our biological memory to remain.”
Shiro bites his lip to keep himself from offering some trite condolence. It was hard enough being torn away from everything he’d ever known, Lotor had witnessed the destruction of his entire world and a huge percentage of its population. No experience is comparable.
“But we still have the same biology, even without a planet to anchor us. Every Galra goes through several bouts of czas parzenia in the years after their druga premanza. The first one always comes within two pheobs of the change.” Lotor glances across at him, his expression suddenly serious. “I doubt Keith will be any different.”
“So… what’s with the box?” Shiro gestures to the grey and purple – incredibly Galra-esque in it’s design – package in Lotor’s lap, and the former-Prince tosses it to him under arm.
The latch clicks open under his fingers and Shiro finds himself digging through as assortment of high energy gel shots and hydration packs. It looks like the gear one would need on a reconnaissance mission, a feeling only heightened when Shiro pulls out a tube of antiseptic wound salve with a frown.
“His fangs are sharp, Shiro,” Lotor points out, gesturing to Shiro’s neck.
In one corner of the box is a glass bottle with a square base and a thin neck containing what looks like bright blue alcohol. Shiro uncorks it to take a sniff, and his senses are assailed by the scent of melon.
“Er…?”
“Don’t drink that now!” Lotor’s eyes are almost comically large. “It is pazidth, which according to Matt, is similar to something you call Viagra?”
Shiro nearly drops the bottle. He doesn’t question that Matt of all people knows what alien Viagra is. Of-fucking-course Matt knows. Matt probably knows more about Keith’s… mating season, than Shiro does.
“The pazidth will give you the stamina you require. Do not drink it all at once, just a swig every few hours should do the trick.” Lotor grins devilishly. “Oh, and make sure Atlas knows to clear your schedule and report directly to Allura once it starts.”
“Why?” Shiro puts the aphrodisiac back into the box. If he’s being honest, he is still unsure why he needs all this stuff.
Lotor rolls his eyes.
“Because there will be no emergency situation desperate enough, to allow you to leave your Keith. Trust me.”
“Oh.”
Lotor flicks an invisible speck of dust from the embroidery of his robs and inspects his claws as he continues.
“Also, I do not presume to know what Keith enjoys in bed, but if sex toys are something you usually indulge in-” He shoots Shiro a look over the top of his hand and Shiro feels his face turn the approximate colour of Keith’s favourite jacket. Lotor arches an eyebrow again, and Shiro can’t help feel that he is being judged. “Quite… well. This time, don’t. No sex toys.”
Shiro practically chokes on his own tongue, fighting the urge to cover himself with his hands – despite being far more dressed than Lotor is – as the half-Galra looks him up and down with an appraising eye.
“During czas parzenia, only the real thing will do.”
Shiro stands, the box still held tightly in his hands, and Lotor does the same. Shiro takes a step towards the door, and hesitates.
“Thank you, Lotor. It is… you’re a good friend to think of his needs.”
To Shiro’s surprise, Lotor huffs again, obviously impatient with his lack of understanding.
“Look, he’s not going to want to eat, that’s why I brought you a bunch of the dissolving tabs as well.” Lotor holds up a string of energy tablets in foil wrappers. Shiro knows they are not condoms, but his brain refuses to break the association. “Just stick one under his tongue after every orgasm. Even if he complains.”
“Every-” Shiro chokes on his own tongue, “-orgasm?!”
“Yes.” Lotor peers at him. “I mean, unless you want him going into hypoglycaemic shock the moment his endorphins wear off?”
“Fuck.”
Lotor growls, and just for a moment, Shiro is reminded that though half-Galra like Keith, Lotor is every bit as dangerous as Antok or Kolivan, potentially far more so.
“You still don’t get that this is serious, do you?” Lotor wraps a hank of his own hair around his fist in frustration. “Shiro, why do you think I am doing this for him? First mating season is rough as hell, especially for half-Galra who have other biology to work with.”
Lotor’s eyes flash with anger, his Altean cheek markings glowing fiercely.
“Do you think anyone was there for me? That I had anyone to tell me what was going on? I got my fangs and my parents were-” Lotor’s breath shudders out of him without finishing the sentence. His eyes wet and red rimmed. “It wasn’t like I had a mate I trusted either. Keith is lucky. Very lucky.” The former Prince takes a deep, steadying breath, and when he meets Shiros gaze, his eyes are clear and focused once more. “Keith has you. And me.” He pokes the box. “And now, you know what to do. Take good care of him Shiro.”
“I will.”
As Lotor turns, Shiro thinks for the first time how alike he and Keith are. Both half-Galra, both having spent most of their lives without their parents, both left to fend for themselves in a universe which didn’t really want them. Shiro is glad Lotor is on their side now, that they have come through the other side of his poor decisions, and that Lotor has completed his exile. He wonders, for a brief moment how it might have been if things were different, and Keith and Lotor had been able to become proper friends so much sooner.
Then he remembers the crowing form of the Prince in the mess hall, dividing his spoils with Antok after they had both won the previous bet.
“Lotor?”
“Yes?”
“Please tell me there isn’t a betting pool on this one?”
*
Keith comes home to their newly expanded quarters two quintants later, and Shiro knows something is different about his half-alien boyfriend. According to his schedule, Keith should have had a fairly easy day, but Atlas slides the door closed after him with her customary sign-off chime, and Keith droops, looking a combination of haggard and flushed that Shiro has never seen on him before.
“Hey, Spitfire.”
Keith groans, fingers slipping on the buckle of his Senior Blade sash as he tries to discard it.
“Ugh… Sorry, not you. Me. I think I’m sick.”
Shiro blinks, half raising from his seat on the couch, book already forgotten. Keith must feel really bad to openly admit something like that so readily. Shiro is used to the slightly self-destructive nature of a man who is always ‘fine’ and who begged a sentient spaceship to move him through a wall, rather than let his boyfriend know he’d lost two teeth and was turning purple.
“Do I have a fever?”
OK, Keith’s definitely not feeling great. Shiro beckons him in with open arms, and Keith crosses the space and sinks without pause into Shiro’s lap. The moment Shiro’s prosthetic palm slides across Keith’s neck, the readouts appear, glowing within his exoskin.
Keith’s temperature is high, and his heart rate is slightly elevated. It’s nowhere near the level where Shiro would actually to start to worry, but with Keith shivering in his arms, he wants to be sure. After a thought, a little multicoloured vial icon appears next to the cardiogram, and it beings to fluctuate with the various major hormone levels in Keith’s bloodstream. There is a big purple section at the top, and Shiro doesn’t need a guide book to tell him what that means.
Anything purple is always, always, a Galra thing.
It's starting.
Shiro reaches across to the end table where his own drink is resting, and grabs a spare hydration pouch. There’s always a few loose ones kicking around in their quarters – they come in handy after rounds of excellent, unplanned sex after all.
“Here baby, drink this.”
Keith sucks obediently on the hydration pouch. Shiro watches his throat as he swallows, but tears his eyes away from the smooth, pretty purple skin to glance at the readouts on his arm. Keith’s temperature drops by half a degree as he watches, but his heart rate kicks up. He squirms in Shiro's lap.
Keith’s perfect ass wriggling against his crotch has a very predictable effect on Shiro, and Keith croons out a pleased noise.
“Feeling better suddenly?” Shiro teases softly.
“Feeling hot,” Keith mutters. He loops a hand around the back of Shiro’s neck, short claws raking through the buzz of his undercut. This time, Keith grinds down in a far more deliberate manner. “I missed you today.”
“Keith…” Shiro’s tone gets his boyfriend to look up and actually meet his eyes. He strokes his natural thumb down Keith’s cheek, echoing the dull red mark of the scar down the other side of his face. The icon showing Keith’s hormone levels pulses again – there’s more purple now. “Keith, I don’t think you’re sick.”
Keith flushes, his cheeks turning a rich plum shade which looks even cuter on him now that he is all over purple, and he averts his eyes as though guilty.
“Keith…”
“Someone spoke to you? Stars… was it Mom?” The pain in his voice is palpable. For Keith who is so intensely private, the threatened embarrassment of having his mother talk to his boyfriend about his mating season is clearly too much to bear. His heart rate ticks up significantly.
“Actually,” Shiro offers diplomatically, “it was Lotor.”
This is not a lie, and Shiro is actually glad of his conversation with the former Galra Prince, because if all he had to go on was Krolia’s vague message, Shiro knows he would have been calling whichever Blade he could reach fastest for an explanation of Keith’s current state. Shiro very much doubts having the sex-talk with Ulaz or Thace would be much fun for any of them.
Keith sinks his face into the curve between Shiro's chest and shoulder and groans.
“I’m sorry,” he says, his voice muffled by Shiro’s sweater.
“Spitfire… Keith, there’s nothing for you to be sorry for.” Shiro grasps Keith’s shoulder and manages to pull his boyfriend back far enough to look at him again. The tips of Keith’s ears twitch unconsciously; he’s so cute. “But you’re going to need your energy for czas parzenia. We should eat first.”
Keith’s eyes flash gold for a moment, and Shiro figures he has butchered the pronunciation. Keith is almost fluent in his mother tongue now, having picked up a lot on the space whale and more since, and whilst Shiro is still better at Altean, he knows his Galra leaves a lot to be desired. He just can’t get his tongue around the hard constants, though Keith always reminds him he is good at getting his tongue around other hard things. But far from making a joke about language skills, Keith already looks like language isn’t going to be on the table for him much longer. He is flushed all over now, pupils mere slits even as his nebula laced irises go dark.
Keith rocks in his lap, eager claws plucking at Shiro's sweater. Shiro catches his wrists. He likes this sweater and would rather it survived the night. Fully dressed and on their couch hardly seems like the most auspicious place to start, and all Shiro's supplies are in the bedroom.
“Keith, wait…”
Keith growls.
Shiro hasn’t yet got around to telling his boyfriend that the sound of Keith’s growl shortcuts straight to his cock like nothing else in the universe. Shiro loves this man, and the fact that Keith could probably kill him without too much trouble, but let's Shiro take him apart with teeth and tongue and fingers, gets to him every time. Shiro is hard in his clothes and Keith can tell.
“Please, Takashi.” Keith’s upper fangs catch his lip as he grins, grinding down against Shiro’s trapped cock to emphasize his point. “Just a quickie. I need you.”
“A quickie?” Shiro smirks. He arches an eyebrow at his beautiful half-alien boyfriend. Keith is almost supernaturally fast in many respects – in a spaceship, on a hoverbike, with his blade, when racking up points against all the other Paladins at space air-hockey – but the pair of them have never had what anyone could describe as quick sex. Allura is still holding over his head the time when he and Keith were late to a formal presentation by a prospective Coalition planet by nearly two varga. And they'd still arrived looking dishevelled.
“Yes. Fuck it.” Keith wriggles again, and then both his hands are pinning Shiro back against the couch by his shoulders. “You don’t even have to do anything. Just stay right there.”
“Keith…” Neither of them are especially passive during sex, except for the few notable occasions when Shiro had bound his boyfriend to the bed frame and left him with no choice.
“I need you.” Keith’s words are snarled. “Quit teasing me.”
The readout on Shiro’s prosthetic arm beeps – the sound loud in the space between Keith’s breaths – and Shiro tears his eyes from his boyfriend’s face to absorb the information. The graph of Keith's hormones is almost all purple now, topped with a shard of red. His heart rate has jumped up again, and this time, the flicker of the cardiogram makes Shiro concerned.
“Oh, baby boy... Keith.” He moves to press his hand to Keith’s chest, fingers sliding under the layers of his training uniform to rest over his heart. He wants to feel the evidence of Keith’s pulse, rather than just look at it on a screen. Their skin is only separated by a single thin layer of pressure-fitted zylon, and beneath it the muscle within Keith’s chest hammers almost too fast to count. “Is that how desperate you feel right now?”
Keith says something Shiro doesn’t understand, and uses the opportunity Shiro’s distraction affords him to tear Shiro’s fly open – literally, these trousers are going to need serious repair work all of a sudden – and wrap his clawed fingers around Shiro’s cock. Shiro grins.
“Oh, Spitfire…”
Keith practically vibrates out of his clothes, his free hand and Shiro’s yanking his suit askew as the fabric depressurises. He is so slick and ready that it only takes him a tic before he grabs Shiro’s cock and positions the hard length at his entrance, despite still being mostly dressed. Shiro sinks right into him, breath catching in his chest at the sensation. It is the ultimate fuck, the pressure and friction in perfect balance as he bottoms out with a soft, grateful groan. Keith shudders against him, moulding to Shiro’s chest, and the heartbeat under Shiro's trapped palm slows.
“That’s it, baby.” Keith’s pulse slows another few beats-per-dobosh when Shiro croons in his ear. “My good Keith.” Shiro adjusts his seat a little, sinking another fraction into the body of his lover, and Keith let’s out a little shuddering exhale. “So perfect. I’m gonna give you just what you need, baby.”
Shiro rocks his hips, not thrusting, just to feel the way Keith grips around him, grinding deeply. Keith is slippery with slick already. Shiro strokes over his heart again, one eye trained on the cardiogram. He still needs Keith’s heart-rate to be lower.
Keith can come just on his cock, and it's a point of pride for Shiro how often he can make the love of his life come untouched, but now is not the time for such things. He wraps a hand around Keith's cock – flushed the same rich amethyst as his stripes, the texture of his ridges fitting between the grooves of Shiro's fingers perfectly – and begins to stroke him off.
It takes shockingly little time.
“Takashi-!” Keith pitches forward, forehead colliding with Shiro's collarbone, and he whimpers as his cock begins to pulse in Shiro's hand, decorating Shiro's abs and his sweater with his orgasm.
Ordinarily, Keith likes to see the evidence of their possession of each other just as much as Shiro does. Teeth and claws marks and dark, deeply bruised hickeys are par for the course. Shiro expects as much now, but Keith sits up and away from him to glance down between the, the sight of his come marking Shiro’s skin starts a deep, rumbling purr in his chest, and his heartbeat drops back nearer to a resting level. The hormones coursing through him level off, other colours appearing in the display as tiny slivers amongst the purple and red, but Shiro doesn’t kid himself that it is over.
“That's it, baby. So good and calm now.” He slides his hand into Keith’s hair, petting behind his point-tipped ears, and Keith slumps against him fully, purring happily.
Shiro doesn't know what it says about him exactly that listening to the changes in Keith's heartbeat is making him even hotter under his remaining clothes, but it is. The fact that he can tell so much about Keith just from the read out on his arm is some kind of perfect power trip, because he can see the effect he has on the man he loves, and take care of him in the most precise and intimate manner possible. He needs to make sure he doesn’t leave this option on all the time though, or he’ll never think about anything other than providing for his mate.
But now, Keith needs energy.
“Baby?”
No response.
“Keith… c’mon beautiful.”
Keith grunts, like a cat snorting away a fly.
“Oh, Spitfire… You wanna try and eat something for me, gorgeous?”
“’M not hungry,” comes the expected reply. But even as he speaks, his slick channel clenches around Shiro, hips shifting in his lap. One orgasm in and he’s clearly not sated in the slightest.
“OK, come with me.”
Shiro simply wraps his prosthetic arm under Keith’s ass and stands, lifting him in one smooth motion, keeping the boy pinned against his front. Keith chirrups – the cutest noise in the universe – and begins to mouth at Shiro’s chest happily. Shiro’s still hard cock remains fully seated within Keith’s perfect body, and Shiro has a feeling that’s important at the moment.
Shiro is glad that something in the universe has aligned already in his favour, because he remade the bed with clean sheets this morning, he knows there is more fresh linen in the cupboard only a few feet away, and the box Lotor gave him is sitting in the compartment under the bed. It is well within easy reach as Shiro sits down.
“Let’s get you out of these clothes, Spitfire.”
For a moment, Keith looks like he’s going to agree, but then he is rocking his hips, seeking the sweet drag of Shiro inside him, grinding deliberately down onto Shiro’s cock as his claws catch on Shiro’s sweater. He tries to ruck up Shiro’s clothes, seeking his skin, and Shiro huffs. He catches both his boyfriend’s wrists in his prosthetic hand and places the other low on Keith’s belly to still his movements. Keith bucks against him but to no avail. He whines in frustration.
“I’m gonna take such good care of you, baby. You’re going to let me, aren’t you?”
Keith’s whine becomes a whimper. Shiro doesn’t press his point, because he knows Keith well enough to understand the internal battle the boy is currently having with his pride and stubbornness. No one ever gets to see Keith showing weakness. No one.
No one but Shiro.
Shiro waits, and Keith’s eyes drop, his spine bowing as he gives himself over to Shiro’s care. Shiro smiles, radiating pleasure.
“Good boy. That’s my good boy.” He slides his hand back down over Keith’s pulse, thumb over the artery in his throat, and beams. “Steady and firm. Look at you being so good for me, baby.”
Keith produces another soft trill with the praise, and his claws cease their restless grasping. Keith’s hands slide under Shiro’s clothes and up his back, a delicious warm point of contact as Keith tucks himself against Shiro’s chest once more. Shiro kisses the top of his hair, chuckling softly when Keith’s ear tip twitches in response. Shiro uses the closeness of their position to reach down behind Keith and adjust himself, cupping his balls before he lets his fingers drift up the exposed inch of his cock before he reaches the place where they are joined.
Keith’s body is wrapped around him like a glove, though better fitted against his skin than any piece of tailoring could be, and Shiro is momentarily sad that he cannot see them together from this angle. It is no secret between them that Shiro loves to look at Keith. He loves to play with his boyfriend’s body – just as much now that he has grown into his Galra features as he did when Keith looked mostly human – and can spend what feels like hours prepping and smearing lube or cum or slick around Keith’s immaculate hole. Shiro adores having Keith presented for him on their bed so that he can push the head of his cock repeatedly through the tight ring of muscle at his entrance whilst he pulls Keith’s gorgeous ass apart with both thumbs in order to watch Keith gape and clench.
But that’s normally, and though Shiro spends a precious few tics tracing Keith’s stretched rim with one fingertip, he cannot indulge right now. Keith needs him.
Slowly, and with frequent softly murmured instructions, Shiro coaxes Keith from the rest of his clothes, stripping him of his boots and undersuit, laying everything on the floor out of the way. When Keith fully naked in his lap, Shiro keeps one hand on him, tracing down the nubs of his spine, and shuffles his way out of the rest of his clothes. He hauls the covers up once they are both naked, cocooning them in soft warmth.
Keith rumbles with another soft purr against him, but his heart rate does not drop any further.
Shiro keeps the frown from his face as Keith turns towards him for a kiss, instead slotting his lips against Keith’s own, pressing into the soft, yielding flesh there. Keith licks up into his mouth eagerly and Shiro doesn’t need the cardiogram to tell him when Keith’s pulse begins to rise. His boyfriend rocks in his lap, squirming, trying to get more friction.
And it’s not that Shiro doesn’t want to fuck him – far from it – but Keith still hasn’t eaten anything.
“Baby…” Shiro speaks into Keith’s mouth as he is kissed. “Keith…”
Keith trills, claws raking lightly down Shiro’s ribs as wriggles his hips. Shiro reaches for his jaw, intending to make Keith meet his eyes, and Keith’s movement has his thumb slipping into the half-Galra’s mouth. Keith stills, quite suddenly, and Shiro feels his own pulse suddenly throb harder along the length of his body-warmed cock.
“Like that, Spitfire?” The question is purposeless and the answer obvious – and Keith can’t answer anyway with Shiro’s thumb hooking over his lower teeth and pulling his jaw wider – but the words still cause Keith to whimper. “Such a pretty boy for me. So pretty. My Keith.”
Keith’s next shiver is visible, and his eyes slid half closed as he moans.
“Yeah, that’s it. That’s my good Keith. Perfect, baby.” Shiro leans back against the pillows, Keith coming with him, and he begins to roll his hips and spine, dragging the length of his cock through the tight ring of Keith’s hole without urgency. It’s just a long slow, luxurious fuck. Keith tongues at his thumb, drooling openly, and Shiro’s exhale becomes a lust-driven growl. “Yeah. Good boy. Wider.”
Shiro reaches down to the box with his other hand, manages to get it as far as the night stand, and digs through until he finds the string of dissolvable energy tablets. He skims his fingers over Keith’s teeth, tracing the sharp points of his fangs and the bumpy edges of his molars, keeping his eyes fixed on the way Keith’s tongue touches tentatively as his hand, little kitten licks demanding more.. It’s a good job Shiro can to most things these days with either hand – there are advantages to being basically ambidextrous.
He slips the energy tab under Keith’s tongue, his prosthetic going quickly to Keith’s hip to keep him in place when he bucks at the shock of another flavour.
“Good boy. You need it.” Shiro watches as the edges start to fizz. It’s one of the green ones – apple flavour, or space apples, which are more tart – one of Keith’s favourites. “Swallow.”
Keith glares at him.
Shiro rocks his hips, as though about to pull out, and Keith’s eyes go wide. Unfortunately, his heart-rate also spikes dramatically. Shiro scowls internally; he needs to bargain with Keith without the threat of denial.
A quick thrust of his hips has Keith moaning softly again.
“Shhhh… I’ve got you. Please swallow baby.” Shiro presses a quick kiss to Keith’s forehead, skin hot against his lips. “Just eat it and let me play with those pretty fangs of yours again?”
Keith swallows with his lips still parted around Shiro’s thumb, and Shiro watches the motion of his throat and smiles. He cannot play with Keith right now the way he wants, because even the gentlest suggestion of not having himself firmly seated on his lovers makes Keith shiver, but Keith has more than one eager opening for Shiro to explore.
Shiro switches hands to press his prosthetic thumb against Keith’s tongue, and the pressure sensors light up along his nerves – both natural and synthetic – replicating for him the exact sensation of the wet, slightly textured muscle moulding around the digit as Keith sucks diligently. Shiro smiles softly, shifting until he is rubbing across the flat fronts of Keith’s teeth, and the position distorts Keith’s lips once more. Shiro twists his wrist and replaces his thumb with two fingers just as Keith’s pulse begins to climb again, and Keith mewls as he begins to rock his hips in a far more determined manner.
“That’s it, baby. Whatever you need. Good boy.”
Shiro reaches for the bottle of pazidth with his free hand, discards the stopper and takes a swig. He hasn’t come yet, but Keith’s soft, determined grinding is akin to an endless tease, and Shiro cannot afford to waste energy on a refractory period. Not today.
Keith keens helplessly against him, breath coming in hot little pants against Shiro’s hand, and Shiro places the aphrodisiac to one side before placing his natural hand low around Keith’s hip, rocking and encouraging him to build the friction between them once more.
Usually, Keith not strung out and non-verbal until they are close to a third orgasm, but the raging hormones of his czas parzenia seem to hold him in thrall as he whimpers, lapping at Shiro’s fingers with his tongue. Shiro brings Keith’s head down to rest on his chest – one ear pressed over his heart – but he keeps his fingers in Keith’s mouth, stroking tongue and teeth and lips as he rises to meet each of Keith’s thrusts.
He cannot actually feel Keith’s pulse through his fingers, but it seems that way when he glances at the cardiogram on his arm, and the next few motions of Keith’s pelvis have his heart rate climbing ever higher even as his hormone read out washes entirely into purple.
“Oh baby… my pretty, powerful, Spitfire. You’re doing so well sweetheart. That’s it.” Shiro bends his neck to croon into Keith’s ear, the tip quivering against his lips as he speaks. “You can do it baby. Come on my cock and show me what a good boy you can be for me.”
Keith’s breath hitches in his chest, and even though he is panting, gasping fast and hot over the back of Shiro’s knuckles as Shiro strokes over his tongue, his pulse begins to drop. Shiro’s throat rumbles with a pleased noise, pride and satisfaction at making the man he loves feel good, and that too is met with another slump of blood-pressure. Shiro gasps, hips thrusting up harder this time, because something about knowing that he made Keith feel safe and satisfied enough to alter his unconscious biological response has him teetering closer to his own orgasm than he thought.
But Keith needs to come first.
Shiro angles Keith’s jaw with his hand, holding his mouth open to look at the soft gleam of his sharp fangs, before he leans in and licks across Keith’s mouth. Keith’s eyes fluttered closed, and the groan which follows is low and wanton and everything Shiro could ask for. He does it again, timing the motion to the thrust of his hips, and Keith shivers and clenches around him like a vice. His cock jerks wetly between them as he comes untouched, and Shiro’s thrums with pride.
He smears the drool on Keith’s lips across his jaw, and checks the readouts on his arm in time to watch the cardiogram plummet even as Keith’s cock twitches with the last spurts of his orgasm.
“Fuck- Fuck, baby…” Shiro tightens his grip around Keith’s hip, holding the boy down in his lap as best as he can as he jolts hard up into the slick grasp of Keith’s body. “So good, Keith. So perfect.” It is hard to make words rather than just snarl in pleasure, but it’s worth it for the next drop of Keith’s pulse, and then Shiro is fucking up into Keith as hard as he can as he comes.
It doesn’t matter how often he does it: coming inside Keith will always be the most exquisite and overwhelming experience in the entire universe. The awesome vastness of the cosmos has nothing on the young man in his arms.
By the time Shiro comes back to his senses, Keith is purring again, a soft little vibration which Shiro automatically coos over. His boyfriend twists to look at him, slit pupils narrowed as he frowns.
“I can’t help it. You’re too adorable, Keith.”
Keith sticks his tongue out.
“If you still have the energy to sass me you can eat this.” Shiro fiddles with the foil wrapper of another energy tab, and Keith takes it on his tongue automatically. The peach flavoured ones are the best after all. “Good boy. Now drink.”
Keith chirrups softly, but does as he’s asked.
“Feel good, baby?”
Keith nods, but the next wriggle of his hips is less about trying to fuck himself on Shiro’s length, and far more about a motion to settle his spine.
“Come on, let’s lay you down.” Shiro softens the request with a kiss. “I’ll give you a massage.”
It takes more than a little coaxing to pull Keith off his cock, and the lewd wet noise and the sensation of his come coating his dick makes Shiro want to push back inside him instantly. He resists, and they twist until Keith is slumped down on the mattress, arms hugging automatically around a fat pillow. He moans happily as Shiro runs a hand down his side from ribs to knees, squeezing briefly over the swell of his ass. This is one of Shiro favourite positions – for all that other people seem to think it’s ordinary and unadventurous – because he kind of gets off on the idea of his partner being genuinely comfortable whilst they fuck. He leans over Keith to press a kiss between his shoulder blades, then taps his hips to raise them before sliding another pillow underneath. Shiro doesn’t want Keith to have to put any effort into holding an ideal pose. His czas parzenia is hard enough on him without needing to keep up appearances. Keith just needs to lay there and be worshipped.
Shiro takes another sip of the melon scented liquid alien Viagra and drags firm fingers over Keith’s hip stripes, pressing deep grooves into his supple flesh as he goes, squeezing Keith’s thighs with both hands. Shiro wraps his fingers around Keith’s hips as far as can just as Keith’s heart rate ticks up again and his purr fades away, and then shifts forwards onto his knees, and gets to work once more.
*
Keith passed the point of being thoroughly debauched several varga ago.
The state he is in now is something so far beyond that Shiro has no words for it. There is no part of Keith’s shoulders or neck not littered with the soft marks of Shiro's blunt teeth, and his hips and thighs and beautiful backside are bruised a deep maroon from Shiro's unyielding grasp. Already there are dark fingerprints blooming along the stripes which curve around his hip, abdomen ,and thigh. His flesh yields to Shiro like warm butter as he pushes three fingers into the creamy, sopping mess of his hole, but still Keith's internal biology tightens around him, trying to pull Shiro deeper still, desperate to be filled once more.
“Baby. So good, good boy. Look at you still so needy for me, Spitfire.”
Keith whines. He has been beyond speech for a long while now, and Shiro is fairly certain he no longer understands the specifics of what is being said. Still he preens a little when Shiro whispers praise into his ear.
“Open wide for me, baby.” Shiro places another energy tab – from their seriously depleted supply –under Keith’s tongue. He does not miss the way Keith sucks on his fingers as he tries to move his hand away. “Good boy. Well done.”
Keith is boneless, pliant, his hips only supported by the thick wedge of pillows and cushions stuffed under him. The only hard thing about him is his cock, displayed between his parted thighs, wet with his own come, and Shiro's where it has leaked from his hole. Shiro beams at the sight, but he cannot spend too long staring. He has already pushed the limits of what Keith’s body will allow by being apart from him, long enough to gulp down water to replace all the fluids which he is now wearing as sweat. Keith isn’t the only one soaked through with his hair in disarray.
Keith makes a small, unhappy grunt, and though he does not have the energy to wiggle his hips or arch his spine, his hole gapes and twitches enticingly.
“It's alright baby, I got you.”
Shiro smooths a hand over the plush globe of Keith's ass, keeping half an eye on the readouts from his arm even as Keith slicks for him once again. His favourite view is at war with the knowledge that Keith’s heart-rate is spiking again. Relishing the sight of Keith fucked open before him is not as important as soothing the ache inside him, and the fast flickering cardiogram is enough to make Shiro’s dick lurch once again. He takes a quick swig of the pazidth before lining up.
Shiro is pretty certain he has developed a fetish for his ability to lower Keith's pulse with his dick.
The slide of his cock into Keith's body now is more perfect that it has ever been before. Keith feels moulded to him, each clench of his textured passage exactly as Shiro would want it – if he was able to ask for such a thing. Shiro fucks in right to the root, until his pelvis is flush with Keith's flesh – darkened from the continual smack of skin on skin – and Keith moans.
Everything is wet between them, a mess of come, and Keith's slick, and sweat. It's perfect and heady in ways that Shiro cannot describe. He feels wrung out and exhausted, but Shiro knows he can't stop, he won't stop, because Keith is purring in between little mewled gasps for breath, and the moment Shiro slipped inside him his heart-rate dropped. Shiro grins, stroking firm fingers up and down Keith's spine, tracing the stripe which curves around between his six and seventh ribs, and Keith's purr only reverberates louder.
“My beautiful Keith. So gorgeous. You feel good, baby?” Shiro grinds his cock in deeper on the next downstroke, like punctuation. “You want another load to fill you up with? You want more?”
Keith doesn't reply, Shiro genuinely doesn't think he can, but he clenches more strongly around his girth than Shiro thinks he’s able to. Shiro groans, his own breath coming short as the pleasure races up his spine. He never knew it was possible for him to come so much, even with the addition of the strange Galra aphrodisiac, but Shiro has kept up with his lover, though he probably only tallies one orgasm for every two or three of Keith's.
“I think you just wanna lay there and relax, and let me plug you up for another few hours…”
Keith mewls into the pillows.
“Maybe all night?” Shiro suggests with a grin. The thought is a potent one, and Shiro pulls back a little, just to watch the slick mess of his own come being frothed up as he fucks into Keith in tiny increments, rocking his hips almost casually as Keith quivers around him.
“We can just lie down to sleep and I'll keep my cock right here.” He offers in a whisper. “And you can take whatever you need if you wake up. Would you like that baby?” Shiro leans over Keith's back as he slides all the way in again, pulling Keith's cheeks apart to settle himself deeply within the perfect clutch of his body. “Or is it that you want me to take whatever I want, when I wake up?”
The words have Keith clenching around him again, and even though he cannot see, Shiro is sure Keith's cock is leaking prodigiously again. He has been continually tipping over the edge for hours now, wrecked by his body's desire for unending arousal and satisfaction.
“I think you like that, wouldn’t you baby? You wanna be my good little boy, a pretty, perfect toy to warm my cock?”
Shiro lays himself fully over Keith's back, covering and caging him in in the manner he knows Keith likes. Keith purrs pressing into the contact, but Shiro wraps an arm around Keith's trim waist and pulls the boy sideways with him, keeping Keith's spine pressed to his chest so that they can both lie on the bed. Shiro gets one knee between Keith's, pulling his thighs wide, and Keith lets out a wanton little mewl, begging for more.
Shiro can afford to take his time tracing down Keith’s chest, because the cardiogram on his arm shows Keith’s heart-rate is raised but steady, and his boyfriend is relaxed and soft against him. Slowly, Shiro follows the lines of Keith’s stripes from memory, moving up to his chest to swirl softly over his nipples until Keith is flushed a deep plum colour and writhing once more against him.
“So lovely. So perfect for me, Keith.”
Every breath of praise makes Keith's heart-rate ease, and Shiro smirks over Keith's shoulder.
“Keeping my cock so warm and wet. You're so wet baby.”
His questing hand finally reaches Keith's belly, thumbing into the dip of his navel and skirting around the tumescent swell of his weeping cock to press against the taut skin of Keith’s lower belly. There is the faintest curve there, the slightest hint of how long Shiro has been fucking him already.
“Look at you, so stuffed full with my come. You're so good Spitfire, the best there is at everything.” He kisses Keith’s temple “The best for me. I'm so proud of you. My good, Keith.”
Shiro barely gets a hand around Keith's cock before his boyfriend is wailing, his hole clenching tightly around him, his pelvic floor rippling and gripping in waves that yank Shiro's orgasm from him with unexpected force. Keith's come spills over Shiro's knuckles in thick globs, no longer having the force to spurt up over his abs and chest.
Instantly, Keith's heart-rate slumps, satisfaction turning him into a puddle in Shiro's arms. It won't last forever, but Shiro will take each victory. The moments of calm and soft before Keith’s hormones take charge again are so precious to him.
But then Keith mewls, the ear next to Shiro’s cheek flicking, and Shiro knows exactly what his boyfriend wants.
“Pretty boy.” Shiro doesn’t even try and keep the pride from his tone. “Anything you want, sweetheart.”
Shiro gives Keith’s cock a final soft pet, then raises his hand to Keith’s mouth and his eager, lapping tongue. Keith groans and shudders as he begins to lick and suck his own come from Shiro’s fingers, and Shiro bites his lip at the sight. His fingers in Keith’s mouth will never not be so fucking erotic that it makes him want to do all this all over again, exhaustion be damned.
Keith sighs, the motion of his tongue changing to just soft little flicks, and Shiro nuzzles into his boyfriend’s hair as he begins to trace over the familiar ridges and points of Keith’s teeth. He smushes the soft pillow of his lips, following the shapes he now knows by heart, and listens to Keith’s breathing even out as the fatigue of continuous fucking finally overtakes him.
At least for now.
Shiro leaves his fingertips resting just on the bow of Keith’s lips, ready for his boyfriend to suckle on should he need them, and settles himself tight to the curve of Keith’s spine. There’s no better place to sleep than with the man he loves in his arms, and no better way to wake up than with the constricting, wet heat of Keith already wrapped around his cock.
Shiro doesn’t know what time it is, whether it is day or night, or how long they have been locked together, and he doesn’t care. Unless the end of the universe comes, he’s not moving until Keith needs him too, and then he’ll move mountains if he has too.
He places one last kiss against the top of Keith’s head before his eyes slide fully shut, knowing that nothing in existence is more precious than the man in his arms. Shiro can keep him safe: it’s his turn.