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“Is this all you have, champion?” Sendak’s laugh was a mirthless, rumbling growl. His claws grazed the skin at the back of Shiro’s neck just before slamming him back into the wall. If they had been anywhere other than the training room, it would have been enough to stun him or worse. The walls here were made to yield to sudden force - this was, after all, only for training. It was an exercise.
He’d only managed to get a fistful of fur near Sendak’s throat but it was close enough to do some real damage if he wanted to. His hand glowed with the hot knife edge of a threat. This was as far as sparring should go. Someone had to yield.
“Do it,” Sendak said, his grin was too smug and full of teeth. He tilted his head back, exposing more of his throat. “Are you afraid now that your opponent isn’t asleep? Go on, do it or I’ll tear your head off, Champion.”
Shiro willed himself to be still, even as Sendak’s hand tightened on him.
“No, you won't,” he said, staring back into Sendak’s inhuman yellow eye. “Let go, we’re done.”
The glow from his arm receded. Anything Sendak wanted was the last thing Shiro was inclined to give him. Usually he just wanted to get a rise out of Shiro, and Shiro would be the first to admit that it was embarrassingly easy for Sendak to do.
That didn’t mean they could continue on that way. He couldn't set that example for the team. He had to do better.
+++
It had been like this since they’d taken Sendak into the castle weeks ago. Shiro had assumed he was long dead after his last ‘visit’ but apparently one of Zarkon’s ships had found him. For his failure, he’d been sentenced to death by gladiatorial combat, or so he’d said. They’d run into him again entirely by chance when Team Voltron liberated an arena. There, he’d taken an offer of refuge - imprisonment - in exchange for all of the intel he could provide.
Shiro had seen, first hand, the tactical value of keeping Sendak around. He knew Galra strategy and technology and where it was weakest. He volunteered to train the team against the Empire’s preferred fighting style. It helped keep them alive and fighting, and Shiro didn’t exactly resent that.
Sendak had lost his Galra tech arm to an arena battle long before they found him, and the inhibitor on his wrist prevented him from seriously injuring any of the crew or going where they didn’t want him - which was anywhere but his cramped quarters or the training room. It was as safe of a gamble as they could make.
Even then, Shiro couldn’t consider him less of a threat. His willingness to work with them didn’t carry a trace of remorse, even after being subjected to a fraction of the horrors he’d been complicit in. He was here because Zarkon would never overlook his failure to do either of the things the Galra Empire prized: he had neither succeeded, nor died. Shiro didn’t know which of those things Sendak was after anymore.
No amount of intel or what Allura called “friendly sparring matches” would lessen their animosity toward each other. But Shiro could be civil.
+++
“Sendak,” Shiro said, patient. In the months that had passed, he was getting better. They were winning more as a team, but even in the training room - Sendak pinned him less often, and when he did, there was some admittedly petty satisfaction in calling his bluff.
Sendak made a low sound of disgust and raked his claws down from Shiro’s neck as he pulled away. Shiro’s hand went to the marks. They weren’t deep, just scratches, and always near his neck. He usually came away from sparring matches looking like he’d tried to shave a cat.
“This is pointless.” Sendak muttered. “You’ll never--”
“Defeat Zarkon if you keep holding back! Where’s your bloodlust, championnngh?” Shiro dropped his voice, exaggerating the word. “Yeah yeah, I know.”
“I don’t sound like that,” Sendak growled, sounding exactly like Shiro’s imitation. Shiro couldn’t find the good grace to keep himself from smirking.
“Initiate environmental training, level 4!” Sendak said, already circling. Shiro instinctively matched his pace, moving in counterpoint, his body settling into a familiar battle stance.
“Authorization required.” The Castle’s AI chimed in.
“Granted,” Shiro said, without hesitation.
“Acknowledged.” The room went dark. The best thing to do in a situation like this was get close and grapple, if you were the stronger opponent. Shiro wasn’t. He got low and tried to move slowly and quietly. He might still have the advantage of surprise...
He didn’t. There was no artful strategy to it this time. Shiro turned his body at the last second to ease the impact when Sendak got to him, but they wrestled to the floor, punching and scratching - Sedak bit him, of all things, and Shiro retaliated by getting a solid punch in on him. He rarely fought like this, all out. He was always moderating the rest of the team, laying out strategy, but he had to admit - maybe Allura was onto something. This was a good way to blow off steam.
Sendak’s fist hit the ground where Shiro’s head had been a moment before, and Shiro didn’t hesitate to put all of his weight into flipping them, getting Sendak under him and pinned to the floor. It was always easier to use Sendak’s own momentum against him, then it was just a matter of pinning his arm and getting a weapon to his neck. Shiro stilled for a moment, panting as the lights came up and the simulation ended.
Sendak’s hips were so much wider than his own, Shiro’s thighs had already started to ache a little from straddling him. No worse than the rest of him ached of course; he was liberally covered in bruises, and just coming down from the full burst of adrenaline.
That definitely fully accounted for the hard-on he had pressed up against the front of his uniform.
Sendak made a disgusted sound and Shiro let go of his arm immediately. He would have moved off, but Sendak closed his hand around Shiro’s thigh and shoved him a little further back to feel the hot and hard press of his dick against curve of Shiro’s ass. Shiro tensed, his heart beating a little faster. The first time it had happened, they’d had an awkward conversation that consisted of Shiro clarifying that Sendak wasn’t required to -- well, have sex with him, or anyone, despite his current situation. Sendak had laughed for five minutes straight. Considering that it had continued to happen, it probably meant they were past the point of blowing it off as an adrenaline high.
Sendak grinned now, like he knew exactly what Shiro was thinking. “Always so eager to lie to yourself, champion. Is this all you wanted from the start?”
Shiro felt himself flush. Sendak made to roll them over. The last few times when they’d gotten off like this, it had been Shiro grinding up against Sendak’s larger bulk. Like hell he was having any of that today. He’d won. He shoved Sendak’s chest back down onto the mat and got a fistful of his uniform to keep him there. When he rolled his hips, Sendak made a satisfying sound underneath him.
“Don't flatter yourself,” Shiro said.
+++
He dragged Sendak closer with a low sound that might have been a real, honest to god growl. He didn't have the presence of mind to be embarrassed because Sendak didn't hesitate. He kissed exactly the way he fought, like it was just another arena for a victory to be won. He bit Shiro’s lip hard enough to draw blood, and Shiro swore. That was going to be hell to explain later.
He could feel Sendak’s low laughter rumbling against his side. He ran a lot warmer than the rest of the room, and Shiro was all too aware of the way the slight chill raised goosepimples on his own skin. Sendak had deigned to fist Shiro’s cock in his hand while Shiro did the prep work, and he hated how delicious the contrast felt.
“Should have known.” Sendak said, giving it just enough of a squeeze for Shiro to choke out an undignified sound. “You didn't even make it to the arena this time.”
The training room. He meant they hadn’t made it to the training room. Shiro didn’t correct him. He didn’t know if the word ‘arena’ was a slip, or a deliberate dig, like most of what came out of Sendak’s mouth. Shiro scowled. If his fingers weren’t knuckle-deep in his own ass and covered in lube, he would have probably have punched Sendak in his smug face anyway, training room be damned.
He’d come to invite Sendak to fight, mostly because he was the only one up at this hour. Sometimes he couldn’t sleep without dreaming and there just wasn’t any helping it. Keith had been having the same kind of trouble recently but Shiro wasn't, at the moment, looking to trade comfort and empathy after getting worn out. He was tired, frustrated, stressed -- and none of that needed to be mitigated here. It wasn’t like he was going to hurt Sendak’s feelings, and this was a way to get out of his head.
If he had to guess why Sendak did it, well, maybe he was bored. He definitely liked to gloat.
“Yeah yeah, get it out already.” Shiro said, like he did this sort of thing every day. He didn’t know if the bravado worked but at least Sendak shut up long enough to actually comply. The bed dipped as he moved, the warmth leaving Shiro’s side. Shiro still had a pretty good view from where he was sprawled on the bed.
Sendak didn’t really have anything resembling visible human anatomy, so of course the rest of him followed suit. A tentacle unfurled towards his stomach as he pulled his uniform down. Shiro didn’t know how else do describe it; it was livid pink against the purple of Sendak’s fur, moving apparently of its own accord, which was just weird. A gentle taper made it widest at the base and smallest at the tip, lined with a series of small double ridges along the top that… could be a row of very adventurous piercings, if Shiro wanted to close his eyes and pretend.
Sendak’s grin only seemed to widen. He liked to preen. Shiro was -- prepared, but any thoughts of changing his mind were banished by the idea of letting Sendak have one more thing to be smug about. The bed dipped when he settled down again, and Shiro rolled over onto his stomach, mostly because he didn’t really want to watch Sendak smirk the whole damn time.
His own dick was apparently still fully on board, hard and red from the soft friction of the sheets beneath him.
“You want an invitation or something?” Shiro muttered, face buried against his arms. Sendak’s hand closed on his hip, dragging him up. He took more time than Shiro really expected him to. He pushed in inch by inch, his… whatever it was twisting and squirming of its own accord. He shifted his hand down and rubbed the soft pad of his thumb against the stretched, sensitive rim of Shiro’s hole. Shiro was only vaguely aware of the taste of blood in his mouth as he bit his already abused lip to stifle an honest to god moan.
It was one thing, having sex because they couldn’t kill each other, but Shiro had never expected or wanted to enjoy it too much. He’d swallow his own tongue before he told Sendak how good it felt.
“Is that all you have, Sendak?” Shiro teased. His voice sounded a little rough and uneven, even to him. He felt impossibly full but when he tightened Sendak made another of those low rumbling growls.
His hand closed on the back of Shiro’s neck - of course, where else? - and Shiro allowed it because Sendak was using the leverage to finally move his hips.
The tentacle moved seemingly of its own accord, shifting restlessly inside him with a truly obscene sound, until it found just the right angle to rub up against. Shiro couldn’t hold back a shaky gasp. Another thrust, and he choked on a moan. He reached back to stroke his own achingly hard cock, canting his hips up to meet Sendak’s movement, breathing hard as heat and urgency seemed to eclipse all other sensations.
“That,” Sendak said. “Is what I have, champion. Look at you, gagging for it like you’ve gone into a heat.”
A fresh burst of said heat spread across his face and chest, working its way down nearly the entire length of his body. Shiro could feel the eagerness and strain in Sendak’s movements, even if he couldn’t see it. Now if only he could shut up.
“Are you -- gonna talk the whole time?” He pushed his hips back as far as he could, just to get the point across. Sendak grunted, his hand tightening warningly on the back of Shiro’s neck, but thankfully he didn’t need to be told twice. He set a fast, hard pace. It took everything in Shiro to keep the edge of his orgasm at bay for a few more seconds, just until--.
He came hard, spilling across the sheets and his own hand. Sendak moved his hand from Shiro’s neck back to his ass, his claws biting in hard enough when he grabbed him to make Shiro yelp and try to squirm away. Apparently that was what it took for him. Shiro could actually feel something warm empty into him as Sendak’s tentacle pulsed inside him, and he hated that it felt pretty good too.
Shiro felt it slide out of him as he pulled away, and Sendak gave his ass a parting squeeze. Shiro could feel come already dripping out of him. He felt thoroughly used, but - that was what he’d come here for.
Sendak settled heavily beside him, looking entirely too satisfied with himself.
“You know,” he said, and Shiro buried his face against his arms again. He didn’t want to know. He wanted to enjoy his post-orgasmic regrets in peace. “I think I underestimated you, champion.”
He glanced over wearily.
“You do have some skills,” Sendak said.
“Really,” Shiro replied. “I can’t take any credit. I think you still hold the record for getting screwed.”
In retrospect, he probably should have expected it to end the way it began: in a fight. Sometimes even Shiro couldn’t be the better person.