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scriveynerTitle: shining like the stars [4]
Fandom: Voltron Legendary Defender
AU: slts
Characters/Pairing: Shiro, Keith
Rating: M
Length: 1678
Summary:
There was no 'day' or 'night' in space. The castle-ship ran on the equivalent of a twenty-two hour cycle; Altean days were slightly shorter than Earth ones, which was a tad bit jarring and led to far too many far too early wake up calls; at least until Pidge took something to the ship's internal chronometer and got everyone synchronized.
Keith looked at the small datapad that showed the time. He'd slunk off to the showers after Lance had left, taking care to keep everything behind him locked; and spent far too much hot water trying to bring himself down off the high he'd gotten sucking Lance's goddamned cock, fucking hell. Keith rubbed his hand over his face and tried to pretend that he'd successfully dismissed the flush that seemed to permanently paint his face. How much longer was this shit going to last?
He could ask Lance, the reasonable portion of his brain offered up in a tone that could only be described as sly. He could go knock on Lance's door in the middle of the night and certainly nothing else would come of it. Keith groaned and made a concentrated effort not to rub his hand over the front of his already too-tight pants. He only had to wear them long enough to take his dishes to the kitchen, maybe grab something to drink, and pray that running around a bit would dismiss the crawling feeling under his skin of wanting to be touched.
It was very quiet, in the ship at "night." Keith's footsteps seemed to echo more, the hum of the ship all around him muted. He hesitated a moment at the end of the corridor that bisected the pilot's quarters and realized he was lingering in front of Shiro's room. Like he was supposed to be there. Keith swallowed hard and thought about how easy it would be to knock on the door, slide into the room, climb on top of Shiro, and....
The crawling feeling got worse, and Keith rubbed his arms as he hurried away toward the common, tray tucked tight against his side. He was not. This was just the heat talking, a biological imperative and it was something that he was stronger than.
A biological imperative. That turn of phrase rattled around in his head as he put the tray on the counter in the kitchen area, cleaned it off and left it for the mice or Coran or Hunk to find in the morning. Keith rubbed his hand over his nose and scowled, then froze in the middle of the room. He could ... smell, something. It was something familiar, and warm -- and when he lifted his palm from his nose Keith realized with a little start that it was Shiro, he could smell that Shiro had been in here earlier in the day. There was another scent twined around it, something just as familiar, and calming .... but Keith couldn't deal with the way that the scents pricked along his shoulders and down his back, and fuck he was not going to get hard before he got back to his room, this entire thing was bullshit.
Instead of going back to his room, Keith stormed the opposite direction, toward the training room. He wondered if activating it at the equivalent of one of the morning would wake anyone, but the castle-ship was large and really, he didn't even care if it did. There were other ways to work out the frustration in his veins, and plenty of combat drones he could activate.
To his surprise, though, when the door slid aside to the training room, all the lights were on and the room was already active. Keith hesitated in the doorway, but then stepped through into the large open area.
The scents hit him before he even realized what he was looking at. Sweat, and musk and more besides, it took his blood from hot to boiling in a heartbeat. It was Shiro in the training room, of course it was; in the midst of some of the battle drones, working out frustration in the same way that Keith had been planning to. Sweat was dripping from his hair, he had been at this for a while -- and he looked to be almost overwhelmed by the number of them.
Keith didn't think twice. He always carried his bayard, even on the ship; and he jumped into the fray, swinging the sword down and slicing one of the battle drones nearly in half. Shiro glanced back at Keith and met his eye, and they nodded at the same time and squared off, each facing half the drones that had been circling Shiro.
Now this made Keith feel like himself again. Adrenaline pumping, he slashed and parried and fought back the drones one and two at a time. He had no idea how many Shiro had programmed to keep attacking, and he quickly lost count.
It didn't last as long as he had hoped, though, as Shiro slammed his alien hand through a drone's chest cavity and took it down. Keith stood, chest heaving, and watched Shiro's back.
Keith deactivated his bayard. "I didn't think anyone else would be up," he said, breathless in the best way, feeling his shirt stick to him with the quick sweat he had worked up. Shiro turned and looked at him, his own chest heaving and Keith couldn't even describe the change in the atmosphere of the room. Shiro's face was weird -- like he couldn't quite figure something out, and it was setting off alarm bells that Keith was doing his best to ignore.
"Keith," Shiro said, and dragged the back of his flesh hand over his mouth, still staring at Keith in that uncomfortable way. His eyes didn't look right, and Keith swallowed.
Deliberately, Shiro turned fully toward him, and Keith realized that if he was going to leave he needed to leave now, but couldn't will his muscles to cooperate. In fact, it seemed like there was a major disconnect between his brain and his body right now, as Shiro stood far too close, the fingers on his right hand touching Keith's jaw softly, tilting his head up to look at Shiro properly.
Then Shiro was kissing him and that blew the last of the circuits. Keith dropped his bayard and wrapped his arms over Shiro's shoulders, which was a good thing because his legs decided to give out and they both went to the floor. Somehow, miraculously, Keith did not hit his head on the way down, maybe that was because Shiro cradled it in his real hand, but they didn't stop kissing at any point during that.
There was no talking, there didn't need to be. Keith groaned into Shiro's mouth, pinned to the floor by his weight. He arched his back up and hooked one leg over Shiro's, the arousal in his belly flaring hot.
He was harder than he'd been even earlier, the back of his pants beginning to get damp with his excitement. Keith scrabbled between them, reached his hand between, intent on removing the barrier but Shiro caught his hand and pinned it to the floor. Keith groaned and struggled underneath Shiro as Shiro nuzzled along his jaw and kissed up toward his hairline. "Shiro," Keith gasped, and curled the fingers of his free hand into the front of Shiro's sleeveless jacket.
They were going to have sex on the floor in the training room. Common sense screamed by like a starfighter; Keith barely paid it any mind, his body aching to be touched more. It was the middle of the night, there would be no interruptions....
Shiro put his hand on the floor beside Keith's head and pushed himself up just a little. They stared at each other, wide-eyed and panting, Shiro's face flushed dark. He released Keith's hand, and Keith hooked it into the front of Shiro's jacket too, both hands hanging on to him, keeping him down. "Are you gonna fuck me?" Keith asked, breathless, shameless; and that seemed to trigger something in Shiro's eyes as they widened farther.
"Keith," Shiro said. "I..."
"Fuck me," Keith pleaded, head flopped back to the floor, legs twined. "I need it, Shiro, I need you-"
Shiro shook his head slowly once, then again with conviction. "Not like this," he said heavily. "Not here."
Keith let out a low growl of frustration and yanked. Shiro was off-balance like he was and he fell back down on top of Keith, who tucked his face against Shiro's neck and bit. Shiro gave a startled, pained noise then rolled off of Keith, one hand clamped to the side of his neck as Keith shamelessly pressed his hand over the largely apparent bulge in his pants.
"You're in heat," Shiro said, on his knees, and staring at Keith.
"No shit," Keith snarled, curled up slightly and rubbing his hand furiously over his trapped cock. He let out a shocked noise as Shiro's hand slammed his shoulder back into the floor, and Shiro's face was too close again, brows drawn together.
"Is that why Lance smelled like you?"
Keith panted and didn't look Shiro in the face. "Why does it matter?"
"Is that why Lance smelled like you?"
"Lance is an omega too, he can't do anything to me," Keith said finally. "Not like you can."
They stared at each other, panting still, and it was Shiro who broke the gaze first. Again. "Go back to your room," he said finally, and Keith groaned.
"Why won't you do-"
"That's an order!"
Shiro's barked voice made Keith freeze, the authoritative tone overriding everything else. After a moment, Keith snarled to himself and rolled to his feet, scooped up his bayard, and bolted out the door without looking back, leaving Shiro sitting in the middle of the floor, elbow on his knee and hand in his hair as he tried desperately to calm himself down.
What the hell was going on on this ship?
Fandom: Voltron Legendary Defender
AU: slts
Characters/Pairing: Shiro, Keith
Rating: M
Length: 1678
Summary:
There was no 'day' or 'night' in space. The castle-ship ran on the equivalent of a twenty-two hour cycle; Altean days were slightly shorter than Earth ones, which was a tad bit jarring and led to far too many far too early wake up calls; at least until Pidge took something to the ship's internal chronometer and got everyone synchronized.
Keith looked at the small datapad that showed the time. He'd slunk off to the showers after Lance had left, taking care to keep everything behind him locked; and spent far too much hot water trying to bring himself down off the high he'd gotten sucking Lance's goddamned cock, fucking hell. Keith rubbed his hand over his face and tried to pretend that he'd successfully dismissed the flush that seemed to permanently paint his face. How much longer was this shit going to last?
He could ask Lance, the reasonable portion of his brain offered up in a tone that could only be described as sly. He could go knock on Lance's door in the middle of the night and certainly nothing else would come of it. Keith groaned and made a concentrated effort not to rub his hand over the front of his already too-tight pants. He only had to wear them long enough to take his dishes to the kitchen, maybe grab something to drink, and pray that running around a bit would dismiss the crawling feeling under his skin of wanting to be touched.
It was very quiet, in the ship at "night." Keith's footsteps seemed to echo more, the hum of the ship all around him muted. He hesitated a moment at the end of the corridor that bisected the pilot's quarters and realized he was lingering in front of Shiro's room. Like he was supposed to be there. Keith swallowed hard and thought about how easy it would be to knock on the door, slide into the room, climb on top of Shiro, and....
The crawling feeling got worse, and Keith rubbed his arms as he hurried away toward the common, tray tucked tight against his side. He was not. This was just the heat talking, a biological imperative and it was something that he was stronger than.
A biological imperative. That turn of phrase rattled around in his head as he put the tray on the counter in the kitchen area, cleaned it off and left it for the mice or Coran or Hunk to find in the morning. Keith rubbed his hand over his nose and scowled, then froze in the middle of the room. He could ... smell, something. It was something familiar, and warm -- and when he lifted his palm from his nose Keith realized with a little start that it was Shiro, he could smell that Shiro had been in here earlier in the day. There was another scent twined around it, something just as familiar, and calming .... but Keith couldn't deal with the way that the scents pricked along his shoulders and down his back, and fuck he was not going to get hard before he got back to his room, this entire thing was bullshit.
Instead of going back to his room, Keith stormed the opposite direction, toward the training room. He wondered if activating it at the equivalent of one of the morning would wake anyone, but the castle-ship was large and really, he didn't even care if it did. There were other ways to work out the frustration in his veins, and plenty of combat drones he could activate.
To his surprise, though, when the door slid aside to the training room, all the lights were on and the room was already active. Keith hesitated in the doorway, but then stepped through into the large open area.
The scents hit him before he even realized what he was looking at. Sweat, and musk and more besides, it took his blood from hot to boiling in a heartbeat. It was Shiro in the training room, of course it was; in the midst of some of the battle drones, working out frustration in the same way that Keith had been planning to. Sweat was dripping from his hair, he had been at this for a while -- and he looked to be almost overwhelmed by the number of them.
Keith didn't think twice. He always carried his bayard, even on the ship; and he jumped into the fray, swinging the sword down and slicing one of the battle drones nearly in half. Shiro glanced back at Keith and met his eye, and they nodded at the same time and squared off, each facing half the drones that had been circling Shiro.
Now this made Keith feel like himself again. Adrenaline pumping, he slashed and parried and fought back the drones one and two at a time. He had no idea how many Shiro had programmed to keep attacking, and he quickly lost count.
It didn't last as long as he had hoped, though, as Shiro slammed his alien hand through a drone's chest cavity and took it down. Keith stood, chest heaving, and watched Shiro's back.
Keith deactivated his bayard. "I didn't think anyone else would be up," he said, breathless in the best way, feeling his shirt stick to him with the quick sweat he had worked up. Shiro turned and looked at him, his own chest heaving and Keith couldn't even describe the change in the atmosphere of the room. Shiro's face was weird -- like he couldn't quite figure something out, and it was setting off alarm bells that Keith was doing his best to ignore.
"Keith," Shiro said, and dragged the back of his flesh hand over his mouth, still staring at Keith in that uncomfortable way. His eyes didn't look right, and Keith swallowed.
Deliberately, Shiro turned fully toward him, and Keith realized that if he was going to leave he needed to leave now, but couldn't will his muscles to cooperate. In fact, it seemed like there was a major disconnect between his brain and his body right now, as Shiro stood far too close, the fingers on his right hand touching Keith's jaw softly, tilting his head up to look at Shiro properly.
Then Shiro was kissing him and that blew the last of the circuits. Keith dropped his bayard and wrapped his arms over Shiro's shoulders, which was a good thing because his legs decided to give out and they both went to the floor. Somehow, miraculously, Keith did not hit his head on the way down, maybe that was because Shiro cradled it in his real hand, but they didn't stop kissing at any point during that.
There was no talking, there didn't need to be. Keith groaned into Shiro's mouth, pinned to the floor by his weight. He arched his back up and hooked one leg over Shiro's, the arousal in his belly flaring hot.
He was harder than he'd been even earlier, the back of his pants beginning to get damp with his excitement. Keith scrabbled between them, reached his hand between, intent on removing the barrier but Shiro caught his hand and pinned it to the floor. Keith groaned and struggled underneath Shiro as Shiro nuzzled along his jaw and kissed up toward his hairline. "Shiro," Keith gasped, and curled the fingers of his free hand into the front of Shiro's sleeveless jacket.
They were going to have sex on the floor in the training room. Common sense screamed by like a starfighter; Keith barely paid it any mind, his body aching to be touched more. It was the middle of the night, there would be no interruptions....
Shiro put his hand on the floor beside Keith's head and pushed himself up just a little. They stared at each other, wide-eyed and panting, Shiro's face flushed dark. He released Keith's hand, and Keith hooked it into the front of Shiro's jacket too, both hands hanging on to him, keeping him down. "Are you gonna fuck me?" Keith asked, breathless, shameless; and that seemed to trigger something in Shiro's eyes as they widened farther.
"Keith," Shiro said. "I..."
"Fuck me," Keith pleaded, head flopped back to the floor, legs twined. "I need it, Shiro, I need you-"
Shiro shook his head slowly once, then again with conviction. "Not like this," he said heavily. "Not here."
Keith let out a low growl of frustration and yanked. Shiro was off-balance like he was and he fell back down on top of Keith, who tucked his face against Shiro's neck and bit. Shiro gave a startled, pained noise then rolled off of Keith, one hand clamped to the side of his neck as Keith shamelessly pressed his hand over the largely apparent bulge in his pants.
"You're in heat," Shiro said, on his knees, and staring at Keith.
"No shit," Keith snarled, curled up slightly and rubbing his hand furiously over his trapped cock. He let out a shocked noise as Shiro's hand slammed his shoulder back into the floor, and Shiro's face was too close again, brows drawn together.
"Is that why Lance smelled like you?"
Keith panted and didn't look Shiro in the face. "Why does it matter?"
"Is that why Lance smelled like you?"
"Lance is an omega too, he can't do anything to me," Keith said finally. "Not like you can."
They stared at each other, panting still, and it was Shiro who broke the gaze first. Again. "Go back to your room," he said finally, and Keith groaned.
"Why won't you do-"
"That's an order!"
Shiro's barked voice made Keith freeze, the authoritative tone overriding everything else. After a moment, Keith snarled to himself and rolled to his feet, scooped up his bayard, and bolted out the door without looking back, leaving Shiro sitting in the middle of the floor, elbow on his knee and hand in his hair as he tried desperately to calm himself down.
What the hell was going on on this ship?
