Sasha Distan

i did not know abojut voltron then, so no. gundam probably.

hahaha, yes, let's pretend that was deliberate XD

oh sweetie. thank you!

hahahaha! take some time for yourself, dinner can wait XD thanks darlin', you're the best kind of reader xxx

thank you! my giftee wanted bottom shiro and one of them being a werewolf and hiding it, and i just had to take it in a hot and sweet direction.

“-good?” “Hnngh?” Keith only tunes into the very end of his boyfriend’s sentence. It’s not as though he isn’t paying attention, but it’s really hard to focus on the words Shiro is saying when Keith is currently fully captivated by the sight and experience of sinking his cock down to the root in his boyfriend’s plush arse. Everything about the position is perfect, from the way Shiro bows his spine to the way he leans on his elbows and knees, presenting himself beautifully for Keith. Keith luxuriates in pulling all the way out so that just the head of his cock is left tugging and stretching Shiro’s rim. Shiro tries to rock back against him, but Keith adjusts his grip to spread Shiro’s cheeks wide and simply stares at the perfect pucker of his hole as he eases the tip of his cock back and forth through the shine of lube. Shiro doesn’t need any more stretching, Keith’s fingers and his cock have already made sure of that, but he can’t resist looking and playing like this. It’s always nice to take his time, especially before his wolf instincts take over. They always bloody do, and he becomes helpless to do anything other than rail Shiro into the mattress until his boyfriend is moaning so loudly that Keith is pretty certain the whole neighbourhood can hear him. But he’s fairly certain he was asked a question. “What was that beautiful?” “Keith-!” Shiro keens through gritted teeth. “Please!” “Fuck baby, look at you. Fucking beautiful all laid out for me.” Keith snaps his hips forward, driving the length of his cock into the tight, wet, overwhelmingly hot clutch of Shiro’s hole. “Gods that’s good. You’re so good Shiro.” And Shiro whimpers. Keith can feel the prickle which climbs up his spine, the first herald of his feral instincts as his possessive nature nips at the deep-seated canine centre of his brain. He curls a hand around Shiro’s hip, smoothing across the flesh of his lower belly, and cups his palm around the freely weeping tip of Shiro’s dick. It throbs in his hand as Shiro makes that delicious noise again. “You like that, don’t you, big boy?” Shiro whines, and his cock blurts a little more pre-come into Keith’s hand. “You like being good for me?” “Yes!” It sounds desperate and gasped, and Keith punctuates Shiro’s confirmation with a sharp thrust of his cock. “Keith, please.” “Oh, but you are good for me.” Keith fucks into his boyfriend, deeper this time, and Shiro groans as his head drops down. Keith reaches out and wraps his hand around the back of Shiro’s neck – just for a moment because it’s quite a stretch even with Shiro’s spine obscenely arched – and Shiro shivers with pleasure under him. “So good, Shiro. So good. You’re the best.” “Kei-!” “That’s it gorgeous. Just like that. Look at you taking my cock so well.” Keith is running his mouth, all too aware that soon he will lose the ability speak when raw lust overtakes him. It’s fine. Lots of guys can’t form coherent sentences when they really get into it. It’s not like it’s only a wolf thing. “Fuck- you’re so tight and hot and good for me baby.” Keith gets a hand back on Shiro’s hip. He almost misses the ability to wrap his fist in the strap of a harness or a jockstrap, and use it as forceful leverage. But Shiro’s cock being free from underwear does give him plenty to play with. Keith rubs his slick palm across over Shiro’s crown, not actually jacking him off, just touching, and Shiro’s whimpers becomes muffled moans as his face sinks into the pillow. “Not going shy on me, are you Shiro? Feel how wet you are. You want to be really good and just come on my cock? Gonna milk me dry with that fantastic arse of yours?” Keith drives into his boyfriend hard, the slap of flesh on flesh suddenly loud in his ears, the scent of sweat and sex painting his inner vision red. The next thrust has Shiro clenching around him, pulling him in ever deeper. “Fuck yes, that’s it. So good, Shiro. That’s my good boy. Fuck-!” “AHH!” Shiro’s spine curls into an even more fantastic arch as he scrambles with blunt fingernails against the sheets, scuffing at the pillows in his scramble to find something to grip in order to release the tension in his body. Keith feels his vision go sharp at the edges – claiming instincts in high gear – as he gets to physically witness the intense pressure of Shiro’s orgasm around his cock. Shiro’s cock throbs in his hand, covering Keith with his come, and the muscles of his internal walls try their very best to clamp down on Keith and keep him seated deep. But Keith is quivering with lust; his entire body a wire pulled taut, and he has just enough control left to snarl Shiro’s name before wrapping both hands around his boyfriend’s hips before he begins to slam into him over and over again. “Oh fuck-! Oh Keith, yes! Yes! Please! Fuck-” The fact that Shiro can still speak means that Keith can go harder, so he does. Each thrust is long – the full length of his shaft sliding from Shiro’s body before pounding back in – but brutally fast. Keith fucks his boyfriend relentlessly until Shiro’s words are reduced to half formed punched-out sounds of need and pleasure. Keith grins, bending over the man he loves to press his smile against Shiro’s spine, and growls as he drives in one last time before he empties himself. The sensation of filling Shiro with his seed will never not be one of his favourites, and Keith can feel the primal, wolf part of his brain throb happily, sated as the warmth from the rush of his orgasm flows through him. Keith revels it in, panting against Shiro’s sweat slick skin, as each one of Keith’s muscles dissolve into liquid in turn. Keith slumps bodily over his boyfriend as his thighs finally give way, and moans mournfully as his cock finally slips from Shiro’s well-fucked hole. Underneath him, Shiro writhes a little at the sensation. “Baby…” Keith smiles, pleased to use his voice once more. “Love you.” He pulls Shiro with him as he falls to the side, allowing them both to mould into the soft bedding, and Keith slides his hand from Shiro’s hip across the perfect, sculpted globe of his arse, to feel along his crease. Shiro shivers – he’s sensitive – but Keith merely presses a kiss between his boyfriend’s broad shoulders and dips lower until he has two fingers slipping into Shiro’s loose hole. Shiro moans. “Perfect, Shiro. So good.” Keith doesn’t rock his fingers – though the idea of smearing and playing with his own leaking come is certainly tempting – but simply buries the digits right up the knuckle, curling them to plug Shiro up with his hand. “Fuck baby. You’re the best.” “Pretty sure I should be saying that to you,” Shiro replies in a half whisper. He soundly excellently debauched, and Keith adores that he made it happen. Keith’s been keeping Shiro sated and apparently happy for over a year, and he’s still not used to it. He doesn't think he’s ever going to be. “I love you, Keith.” “Kiss me,” Keith demands, and Shiro twists his head to comply. The angle is awkward and kind of messy, but Keith doesn’t care, and clearly Shiro doesn’t want to dislodge his fingers. It gives Keith an idea. “Do you want the plug, baby?” Shiro blushes. Actually gods-damn blushes. How the man can be shy after sex Keith does not know, not when Shiro is a hellish tease the rest of the time and perfectly capable of getting Keith all riled up by text message alone. “Maybe.” Shiro squirms against his hand again, and Keith pushes deeper, fitting the whole of his hand flush between Shiro’s cheeks. The squelch is filthy and Keith growls again, but softly. “I don’t want you to move though,” Shiro finishes. “Well then, ain’t it good I came prepared?” Keith drawls a little bit, knowing the way his accent gets to Shiro when it becomes thick. “So, do you want it?” “Please, Keith.” Keith makes a pleased rumble in his chest. It’s not a purr. Wolves don’t purr. Instead, he reaches with his free hand under the pillows on his own side of the bed where he slipped it earlier, and pulls out Shiro’s favourite after-sex plug. It is bright pink with a rose-gold gem set into the base, and the silicone gives nicely beneath Keith’s fingers. Keith slides the rounded tip down Shiro’s spine, through his sweat until he reaches the wet mess of lube and come, and pushes the toy into place even as he draws his own fingers back, making sure that Shiro is never empty. His boyfriend wiggles a little, one hand settling the flesh of his arse around the base of the plug, and then he seems to melt further into the mattress. “Happy baby?” “Mmmm… the best. Thank you, Keith.” Keith really doesn’t think he needs to be thanked for Shiro giving him the best sex of his life – consistently, for the past sixteen months – but he’s learnt not to argue with the man when Shiro is post-coitally sleepy. Instead, he tucks himself up tight to Shiro’s back, wrapping one arm around his chest to keep him close whilst Keith’s other hand begins automatically to play with the soft, white floof of Shiro’s hair. Keith cannot decide if it looks adorable or ridiculous poking out of the snapbacks his boyfriend is so fond of wearing on non-work days. But he loves it nonetheless. “Love you, Shiro.” “Love you, Keith.” Shiro’s heart slows down under Keith’s hand, and Keith almost thinks his boyfriend has fallen asleep when; “Wake me in the morning?” Keith presses his delighted smile between Shiro’s shoulder’s again. Those words – combined with the toy plugging his boyfriend up with his come – are a clear invitation, one which Keith is keen to exploit. “Anything for you sweetheart.” *** Keith is roused from bed a week later, by the scent of coffee. He hates coffee, and honestly suppressing the desire to yeet Shiro’s fancy coffee machine out of the nearest window has been the biggest struggle of their cohabitation. But Shiro loves coffee, and Keith loves Shiro. He will put up with it, even though the smell makes his nose itch something awful. “Good morning beautiful,” Shiro says without turning around as Keith trudges into the kitchen and slumps bodily against his spine. “That time of the month is it?” Keith makes an ineloquent groan at Shiro’s terrible joke. The worst thing is, he’s not actually that wrong, because whilst Keith has forced himself to become a morning person for work and fitting into society, getting up on the days of the new moon is always especially hard. Thankfully, it is Saturday, and Keith doesn’t have to go anywhere. “Yur not- ‘n bed,” he mumbles against Shiro’s shirt. Shirt? At best there should be soft jersey loungewear between him and his boyfriend’s skin, but instead, there is crisp, cool cotton. Keith’s wandering hands find pressed slacks, and a belt. “s’not Monday.” “No baby. It’s still Saturday.” Shiro removes Keith’s hands from where they are trying to creep into his trousers. “Sorry, gorgeous. I’ll make it up to you.” Keith whines, still sleepily confused. “Special investors meeting about the new jet, Keith. I shouldn’t be long.” “And they needed their hotshot pilot, of-fucking-course.” The imminent removal of his boyfriend from Keith’s presence is the thing which makes him wake up properly. “An’ here I was gonna bend you over the counter and fuck you senseless.” “Keith…” Shiro turns in Keith’s arms and kisses him soundly. Keith growls happily, but his attempts to deepen the gesture are effectively cut off by Shiro’s teeth. “Sorry gorgeous. I gotta go. I’ll be home for lunch though. I’ll make it up to you.” “You’ll bring burritos?” Shiro smirks, one dark eyebrow arched. “Actually, I was thinking I’d stay on my knees with your cock in my mouth whilst we watch the race, but if all you want is burritos…” Keith shuts him up with another kiss, one which leaves them both panting. “Down boy,” Shiro jokes as they break apart. “Shouldn’t I be saying that later?” Keith retorts. Shiro’s dark-eyed look of lust stays with him long after his boyfriend leaves for work. *** “Fuck, you look so pretty like that.” Keith glances down from the screen. He’s been paying fairly close attention to the race, but Shiro’s mouth – hot, soft, wet – warming his cock is as distracting is it is soothing. “So good for me, Shiro.” And as expected, Shiro’s eyes flutter half-closed as he preens. Keith’s smile broadens, and his runs his fingers through Shiro’s hair, petting his floof away from his face. “You like that.” Shiro’s questioning hum around his cock makes Keith’s blood sing. He has to actively stop himself from making a much more obviously animal noise at the sensation. “You like it when I tell you you’re good, don’t you?” Shiro’s shining eyes are answer enough. It’s hardly the first conversation they’ve had about their kinks, but it is the first time they’ve ever done it when one of them hasn't actually been able to answer. “You like the praise…” Shiro shivers at Keith’s words and Keith cannot help himself. “Which is great, because you’re such a good boy for me Shiro. Always. So perfect.” Keith drags his thumb across Shiro’s lower lip where it is stretched around his cock, spit slick and shiny. “Such a pretty mouth. And you so accommodating for me. So good.” Keith warms to the words as they flow out of him. His cock throbs against the wet muscle of Shiro’s tongue. “I love that you’re mine.” Shiro moans, and Keith’s eyes go wide as his orgasm stalks up to him from apparently out of nowhere and knocks him from his senses. He shudders as he comes, and Shiro breathes hard through his nose, swallowing in quick, unexpected gulps. Keith is gasping as he comes back to himself, all his limbs shaky and his skin suddenly cold as his sweat cools. “Fuck. Shiro, I’m so sorry.” “Shhh…” Shiro lays a finger over Keith’s lips, and then pillows his head onto Keith’s thigh, prosthetic arm wrapped around Keith’s butt. “No being sorry. That was really hot.” “Yeah?” “Yes Keith. Now we have two new things to explore. I like praise, and you have a possessive streak a mile wide apparently.” Shiro bites his lip, eyes aglow with the possibilities. “I wonder if we can combine them…” *** Keith lines up the spring onions against the flat side of his knife, readjusts his grip on the vegetables, and begins to slice paper thin rounds with quick rocking motions. He quietly loves the way they fall away from the blade like tiny discs. Each a perfect full moon. “Hey, handsome.” Keith presses back into the solid warmth of his boyfriend, but does not stop his chopping. The pan is heating beside him, the smell of sesame oil and garlic already making Keith’s mouth water, though no human would be able to sense them yet. Shiro’s hands – big, broad, his skin soft and supple – skate around to rest on Keith’s hips, then several questing finger tips slide beneath the waistband of Keith’s jeans and boxers, just stroking the soft hair of Keith’s treasure trail. Keith feels himself chub up in his underwear just from having Shiro so close. “So… I was thinking…” “About sex when you were supposed to be flying a plane?” “Babe…” Shiro pouts against the top of his head, Keith can feel it. “It was only the simulator.” “Sexy as the idea is, I don’t actually want you thinking with your dick at twelve-hundred feet doing mach-six.” “Quite. I do have self-control you know.” Shiro kisses Keith’s hair then ducks down to nuzzle into the curve of his neck. “Anyway, I was thinking. I found something I wanna try out.” “Oh?” Keith’s cock gives another interested throb. There have been a fair few things Shiro has introduced him to since they first starting dating. Keith never though he would ever say he was the kind of guy into a bit of bondage, or cockwarming, or seeing his partner in pretty lingerie and fancy harness straps… but it turns out there’s a lot of things he likes, if he’s doing them with Shiro. “What do you know about pet play?” Keith only doesn’t slice his finger off because of the ingrained muscle memory learnt through thousands of hours of wielding sharp knives in stressful situations. But he does stop chopping. “Not much.” Keith lays down his knife, and switches off the burner underneath his wok. “What did you find that you like?” “I want to be good for you.” Shiro replies, his smile turning soft and sweet and their eyes meet. Keith leans up on his toes to press his lips against Shiro’s. It’s a compulsion. Shiro is there; Keith has to kiss him. “You’re always good for me.” If Keith were normal, human perhaps, then he wouldn’t be able to hear the way Shiro's pulse speeds up and his skin flushes hot just at the tiniest murmur of praise. But Keith isn’t human, and he loves Shiro's little micro reactions. “Keith…” Shiro wiggles his hips, his mismatched hands linked around Keith’s waist. The heat and friction against Keith’s thickening cock is rather distracting. “I want to be really good.” This is the most coy Shiro has ever been. Keith arches an eyebrow. “Shiro?” “I like being your good boy.” “OK, baby.” Keith kisses his boyfriend again. “Go set up for dinner. It won’t be long.” “Have I got time to play a round of Mario Kart first?” Shiro checks his watch with a grin. “Time difference is… my brother is probably still up.” “Yes, baby. Of course.” Keith presses into Shiro’s kiss, quick but sweet. “Go talk to Ryou.” Shiro grins, already scampering away. “Say hi to him for me, before you try and chase him off the track!” Keith calls after his boyfriend. “Yes baby!” Keith returns to his chopping board and slices his way through the rest of his vegetables without actually engaging his higher brain functions. He takes the chicken pieces from the marinade and coats them in seasoned flour, and then stares at the pans laid out ready for him to begin cooking. He doesn’t begin cooking. Keith can hear Shiro in the other room, and with his heightened senses he can even make out the tinny echo of Ryou’s voice through his boyfriend’s expensive headset. The pair of them are being typical siblings together as their competitive streaks take over, and they start mashing buttons and leaning into their joysticks. The noise of their game is drowned out by Keith’s own thundering pulse. He is half-hard underneath his clothes, and is mind is racing. Pet play. Half remembered images from a night of random-horny web browsing a few years back flash through his inner vision. Keith is sure they are misremembered and made lurid by his reaction to them, but he stands over the cutting board and watches pictures and video clips of men in leather masks and harness gear get pushed around on their knees and dragged by collars too tight around their throats. He shudders. He does not want to imagine Shiro like that, Shiro wanting that. His brain imagines it anyway, and Keith clenches and unclenches his fists and steps out through the back door and into the cool night air. Nature tastes good. They chose the house together – the best they could rent in their price bracket – and Keith loves it, but it was the location which swayed him. The big garden, and the easy access to the parkland and woods beyond, were things which were too good to pass up. Even if the bathroom is a little small and they had to take the door off the master bedroom to fit the super king bed they’d both fallen in love with at the store. Keith stands there and inhales as deeply as he can, but the images don’t quit, and he hauls his phone out of his pocket and finds himself dialling his cousin’s number. “Hey there, little Kit.” Keith sighs. “You do not get to call me that, Matt.” He exhales again. “How are you?” “You did not call Regris to talk about me.” His cousin’s boyfriend is correct – of course – but Keith can still pretend to be polite. “What’s up Keith?” “Shiro… wants to try a new thing.” “And it makes you uncomfortable? Just don’t do it.” “Matt… you can say no to things so easily because you know if you’re not into it with Regris then Lotor will be. Or whatever. You guys have it so easy.” “Oh yeah, inter species polyamorous queer relationships are ‘easy’. Jeez Keith.” Matt is rolling his eyes. Keith can practically sense it. “Do you even hear yourself sometimes?” Chastised, Keith drops his head. He does not whine though, which is small victory. “At least you guys didn’t have to come out to each other.” “A happy accident,” Matt assures him. “You do realise you’re going to have to tell Shiro at some point, right Keith?” Keith does know. “Can I talk to Regris?” “Sorry bud. He’s playing fetch with Lotor in the backyard. Lotor bought him one of those flashy light-up balls. Looks like aliens are racing across the garden.” There is the distant sound of barking, and Matt’s voice is muffled by his hand ineffectually over the speaker as he shouts. “Oi! You better not be destroying my azaleas out there!” “I’ll let you go…” “Hey, wait Keith.” There is the distinct sound of a door closing, and Keith realises he has Matt’s full attention suddenly. “C’mon bud, what’s up?” Keith grunts. It’s not like his sex life is some kind of secret, he and Regris are close after all, and Regris can’t keep his mouth shut for love nor money. “OK, so it’s something kinky.” Matt has never had any shame as far as Keith can work out, and becoming boyfriend to a werewolf and whatever the heck Lotor is actually defined as, definitely hasn’t helped that. “But it’s not gross, because I can sense you being sickeningly in love still from all the way across town.” “You cannot.” “Nope, but you pouted when you said that.” Matt laughs. “Just talk to the guy Keith, he looks at you like you hung the moon for him personally.” “He does not,” Keith grumbles. “You’re a shitty liar, Keith. You know you have to have the whole ‘by the way I’m a werewolf’ conversation sometime soon right?” Matt pauses, but Keith doesn’t respond. “Keith I heard you tell your uncle that you want to marry the guy. You have to tell him the truth.” For a long second, Keith considers hanging up the phone. It’s not like he wanted to talk to Matt anyway, even if he is usually the most level headed out of their threesome. But he still doesn’t know what to do with the cold, twisty knot of anxiety in his stomach whenever he pictures Shiro and pet play in the same sentence. And Matt – of course – can tell somehow. It’s like he picked up Regris’ sixth sense or something. Not that Regris ever uses it. “So…? C’mon spill what kinky shit does your future husband wanna do to you?” Keith groans. He swears he can feel a little bit of his soul leave his body when he says, “pet play.” “Hoo boy!” Matt sounds far too pleased. “Well, makes sense I suppose. You are a bit feral… a lot feral. Maybe some doggy discipline with do you good Keith.” Keith growls. “Fuck you.” “Temper, temper…” “I am not putting a collar on my boyfriend, Matt! Just… no.” “Shiro wants to be…? OK, I didn’t see that coming.” Matt sounds almost impressed. “But I don’t think a collar is a big deal, Keith.” Keith thunks his forehead against one of the pillars which holds up the porch roof. Immediately he wishes he hadn’t said anything. He inhales through his nose, letting his senses unfurl into the lush greenery just out of arms reach, and his nails lengthen noticeably as he relaxes. It’s been a little while since his last proper shift, and the moon is getting fat. Keith thinks he should probably go for a run later. “I- but all the other… other stuff.” Keith shudders. “The web makes it look really degrading. I don’t want that.” “Keith… talk to the man. I have friends into pet play – you remember Allura and Romelle? She showed me pictures of her gear once. It’s all really cute. Fluffy even. Maybe you and Shiro are thinking of different things?” “Maybe. Tell the guys I said hi.” “Give Shiro smoochies from all of us!” “Erghhh…” Keith hangs up, goes back to the kitchen, heats up his pans again, and kicks his recipe’s butt. It feels good to have control of at least one thing in his day. By the time he arrives in the living room with a plate of dinner in each hand and a pair of long neck beer bottles tucked under one arm, Shiro’s headset in back on his console, and the TV is playing a crackling fire and country radio. “Hey, baby.” “Hey-!” Shiro fumbles his tablet, scrambling to stand and help with the plates. His boyfriend might be a world class pilot, but Shiro’s not quick enough to hide his browser window from Keith’s better-than-human senses. “Dinner smells great.” “Thanks, Shiro.” Keith hands him a plate, and a beer, and a pair of chopsticks in turn, before settling down in the corner of the couch. “You wanna show me that?” Shiro blushes all the way up to his ears. “I didn’t buy anything-” “Don’t let me stop you.” Keith settles his plate on his knee and holds his hand out for the tablet. “C’mon, pretty boy. Give it.” Shiro does so, and then stuffs a much larger bundle of noodles into his mouth than is probably comfortable, in a clear effort to avoid saying anything. Keith unlocks the screen with a flick and the shopping page comes back into clear view on the sofa cushion between them. Just as Keith had glimpsed, Shiro is looking at pet play gear, but the items displayed are very different from the hoods and heavy leatherwork Keith has been trying not to imagine. Sets of ears and tails – in a variety of styles and shapes and colours – most of them fluffy and soft, some with bows and bells, some with headbands and some with clips, some boasting real fur whilst others are varying levels of realistic faux. Keith scrolls down, and then uses his knuckle of click and enlarge an inky black, obviously very high-end set, with white fur trim in the inner ears and tail tip. “They’re cute.” Matt was right – not that Keith will ever tell him so – and it’s all too easy to imagine Shiro with cute little pointy ears and a big fluffy tail. The plug attached to this set looks a little small though. “Y-yeah?” Shiro has gone a very rich shade of red, and though adorable, Keith does not want to test his blood pressure too much. “Yes, baby. Very cute.” Shiro tucks the tablet away down the side of the couch, and they spend their time shooting each other broader and broader grins as they eat. The moment Shiro’s plate is empty, Keith slips across the sofa and inserts himself in the space between Shiro’s legs, effectively turning his boyfriend into a body pillow. “I’m just gonna stay here now.” “OK, Keith.” Shiro’s hands loop around the small of his back, prosthetic fingers creeping automatically under Keith’s clothes to run up and down the furrow of his spine. “Thank you, baby.” “Love you.” * Keith had a frustrating day at work, but honestly, he kind of can’t remember why. He was all hot and bothered and tense when he got home, and the moment Shiro got back, Keith couldn’t wait for them both to be naked. But Shiro steered him to the couch and not the bedroom, and Keith can’t find it in him to complain. Shiro looks up at him – grey eyes huge and soft with adoration – and smiles in a way which doesn’t use his lips. That plump flesh is already stretched wide around Keith’s cock, and Keith eases the angle of his hips, and sinks a little deeper into the sofa cushions as Shiro lets a trickle of warm saliva escape his lips. Keith strokes through his boyfriend’s hair, combing the locks back from Shiro’s face with his fingers, and groans softly. “Baby… you’re comfortable, right? You’re OK?” Shiro’s wordless answer is unmistakable. Apparently, there is nowhere else he would rather be than on his knees with Keith’s cock in his mouth. Keith isn’t complaining. “Fuck. You’re so pretty like that.” Shiro preens. “Really pretty.” Keith groans, letting his hand slide down the back of Shiro’s neck and across his shoulder, kneading briefly into the wealth of thick muscle there. “Gods… you feel so good. I really- thank you baby. I needed this.” Shiro's expression is just a touch smug. Of course, he knew; he always knows just what Keith needs. But Keith can’t help but check one more time. “You really wanna just...?” Shiro nods with his mouth full, stroking up the underside of Keith's cock with his tongue without pulling back. “OK. Whatever you want gorgeous.” Keith strokes through Shiro's hair again, soft and slow as he drags his fingers through the longer strands of hair at the front, and then he reaches out and grabs the control pad for the big screen to dial up the radio and some swirling fractal pattern to bathe the room in soft stars. Shiro always looks so beautiful, but with colours across his brow and pale floof, his eyes huge and his lips shiny with spit, he is ethereal. The radio spills sweet piano instrumentals and saxophone notes into the air, and Keith smiles down at the man he hopes to call husband one day. Shiro taught him to like jazz, maybe Shiro is right about this too. “Baby?” Shiro tilts his head, gazing up at him. He can't talk – all eyes and tongue – and the heady sensation of the soft, relaxed suckling around Keith's cock makes him feel bold. “Maybe we can give it a try? The pet play thing. You are such a good boy for me after all.” Keith strokes Shiro's hair back from his face, then drags his short fingernails across the man's scalp. Shiro shivers pleasurably, eyes going half lidded, mouth lax. “You'd look kind of cute with soft fluffy ears... And a pretty tail to wag for me.” Shiro moans around his cock, and the vibrations are intense. Keith resists the desire to let an actual growl slip past his lips. “Would you like that baby?” Keith lets the words slide out of his chest. “You want to show me how happy you make me? You want to be my good boy?” The noise Shiro makes now is nothing short of pornographic. “Fuck. Fucking hell. You like that, don't you?” Shiro sinks deeper onto Keith's cock, his throat totally relaxed even as Keith's crown pushes into it. Keith can sense Shiro's heart-beat, with the wolfness inside him which falls somewhere between hearing and touch, and though he knows his boyfriend cannot breathe like this, he also trusts Shiro to know his own limits. He loves Shiro’s warmth against his legs, adores the racing pulse he can feel which pounds against him so much faster than his own. He relishes the way Shiro’s hands grip low around his hips – one hot and one slightly cool and firm – anchoring him as he relaxes ever further into Shiro’s mouth. Keith's breath shudders in his chest as he gives himself over to the pleasure which he can feel building deep in the pit of his stomach, right behind his balls. Shiro is drooling around him, everywhere is warm and wet with spit, and it’s perfect and right that he should be drenched in the scent of his mate. His mate. Even the words in his head makes him moan again, his fingers tensing as he pets through Shiro’s hair. Keith wants it, so much that he can barely even let himself think about what it might mean to call Shiro his. In the time it takes for Shiro to adjust the angle of his head so that he can take a breath, Keith goes from languid, soft pleasure into the sharp edge of lust and the desire to claim this man as his own. “Baby… so pretty. So good.” It is an achievement how level Keith’s voice sounds as his chest heaves. “My good boy. My-” Keith is panting, he has to stop or he’s going to ruin this too soon, he cannot think about possessing Shiro and keep his orgasm at bay. He growls – actually growls – and drags his fingers across Shiro’s scalp again, cradling his head and his jaw, unable to look away from such wide and trusting eyes. “I love you. Baby- you’re too perfect. So fuckin- nngghh!” Shiro does something with his tongue against Keith’s frenum which makes him toss his head back into the couch cushions. Keith doesn’t think he’s ever felt so out of control around another person before. He has to slow himself down. “You gonna be good, yeah? Gonna stay there and just let me fuck that pretty mouth of yours?” Shiro whines. “That’s it, good boy. Relax sweetheart. I got you.” Shiro’s mouth goes lax and soft around him, and Keith takes a moment to just breathe – filling himself with the scents of Shiro – before he places his hand on his boyfriend’s face and encourages him to tilt his head until he is pillowed on Keith’s thigh. Shiro’s hands link around the back of Keith’s arse, and Keith smiles as he feels the tightness of the hold slide away. Shiro is doing just as he asked, and it’s so fucking sweet that Keith feels the urge to do something stupid, like propose. “Perfect baby. So good.” Keith wraps the fingers of one hand into Shiro's pale floof, half to hold him in place and half to give himself something to focus on so that he doesn’t actually end up ravaging his boyfriend’s throat. Shiro is so giving and trusting, and Keith would hate himself for taking advantage of that. He squeezes Shiro's upper arm with his other hand. “Let me know, OK?” Shiro doesn’t nod, but the way his mouth goes suddenly tight around Keith’s shaft – every ridge of the roof of his mouth and the hard rounded edges of his teeth suddenly brought into high definition – is reply enough. Keith groans. “Good boy.” He sets a deliberately slow and shallow pace – something which under normal circumstances would be teasing – but right now it just serves to back him down from the edge of his pleasure. Keith focuses on Shiro, the sight of him so dishevelled and gorgeous in Keith's lap, the experience of Shiro’s mouth so hot and wet and pliable, as Keith fucks across the cushion of his tongue. Shiro’s heart is fluttering hard in his chest, the beat ever faster against the side of Keith's calf where Shiro is slumped into him. When Keith pets over his hair again, he automatically pauses to rub and scratch at the sensitive spot which would be just behind Shiro's ears – if he was a wolf like Keith. “Good boy. Such a good boy. So willing.” Keith takes a breath which makes him shudder. The air in his lungs feels cold when contrasted to the heat of his body. “Fuck… I wanna come, gorgeous. Want to see you lap up all my come… spread it all over those pretty lips-” Keith scrapes his fingernails over the cushions – he doesn’t rip them and is proud – to try and release the tension coursing through him. He’s really got to stop running his mouth. But Shiro moans – an open, wanting sound – and Keith feels himself lose control of the race towards his orgasm. “Fuck- fuck- yeah that’s it. Good boy. Good boy.” He holds onto the front of Shiro's hair and thrusts his hips in hard little bursts. Shiro is drooling and moaning around his cock and Keith absolutely cannot stop. Shiro looks blissed out and flushed and Keith wants nothing more than to cover the man with his come. “That’s it, so gorgeous baby. So good.” And then Keith growls, biting his lip as the pleasure building in his core rushes outwards, all his sense swooping down along one specific set of nerves until pleasure explodes deep in his belly. Keith wraps a hand around himself, fist jerking once, twice, covering for the lack of warmth and pressure as he pulls back from Shiro’s mouth and smears the spit slick head of his cock over Shiro’s flushed-pink lips and cheek before he starts to come. Shiro gazes up at him, ruined and gorgeous with his mouth open and eager, and Keith sits the head of his cock on the pillow of Shiro’s lower lip and watches himself spurt over his boyfriend’s lapping tongue. The moment Keith is finished, Shiro locks his lips right under the head and sucks, pulling two more over sensitive pulses from Keith’s balls. Keith whimpers, then groans as he feels Shiro’s tongue swirl over him, collecting every last drop from his slit. “Oh baby…” Shiro squirms a little, and Keith feels suddenly guilty, because Shiro’s arms are still wrapped around him, and as much as he enjoys the view, it’s not fair for Shiro to kneel there without being taken care of. “C’mere, gorgeous.” He almost has to physically pull Shiro off his cock by his jaw, and the moment Shiro’s lips are free, Keith ducks down to claim him for a kiss. It is only as Shiro leans up to meet him that a waft of scent tells Keith what has happened just before his eyes confirm it. Shiro’s heaving abs are decorated in shiny stripes of his own come, a last weaker spurt still rolling down his softening cock, and Keith’s vision swims. “Baby…” “Keith-” Shiro looks like he’s going to kiss him to shut him up, and Keith stops him with two fingers on Shiro’s chin. He grins. “Such a good boy.” The delight in Shiro’s eyes at the praise is unmistakable, and Keith takes it a sign to use the word which has been popping up in his brain for the past few days. “Good puppy.” Shiro cannot chuff in pleasure, he is not a werewolf, but the noise he makes as he hauls Keith into the tightest, warmest, full body hug he has ever experienced is close enough. *** Keith hangs the keys to his bike on the hook by the door and shrugs out of his leather jacket before laying his knife roll out the little table in the hall. Shiro’s keys are already there, and Keith grins at the way his little wolf charm – “a wolf, Keith, really?” Regris had muttered – seems to nuzzle up to the fancy enamel koi Shiro keeps on his. Keith sniffs, though he is not expecting the scents of dinner because Shiro is not allowed to do anything more advanced than use the coffee maker and boil water for instant ramen. But what hits his senses is the raw, warm scent of lust permeating the apartment. Keith arches an eyebrow. If he didn’t know better, he’d say that his boyfriend is jerking off, but there aren’t any of the usual accompanying sounds for that. “Shiro?” “In here!” comes from the living room, and Keith toes off his boots before padding down the hallway towards the man he loves. What greets him is not what he expects. Shiro is kneeling on a thick blanket, folded into a neat rectangle, naked and half chubbed, the long black fluff of a premium quality tail plug curving around the swell of his perfect arse, and a pair of adorable furry ears almost seamlessly blended into his hair above his undercut. He looks as delightful as Keith imagined, but that is not what has his heart pounding too-fast in his chest. Around Shiro’s throat is a collar – super soft black leather – and hanging from it is a shiny silver identity tag. Because Keith is werewolf, and his eyesight is not just perfect but predator-perfect, even from here, he can easily read the words engraved into the surface. Property of Keith Keith feels his vision go sharp, too sharp. He winces, clenching his eyes shut, knowing that his pupils and irises have blown and that he is already way too wolf for the current situation. There’s a noise, a soft swishing, and Keith dares to peek between his eyelashes to find Shiro leaning forward on his hands – fingers curled to simulate the look of paws – tail wagging. The tag jangles. “P-puppy?” Shiro’s soft “woof” is all pleasure and pride and Keith jerks backwards as he feels his fangs grow in faster than the they ever usually do. He covers his mouth with his hands – still a mouth and not a muzzle thank fuck – and feels the sharp prick of pain as he scratches himself with his claws. There is a deeper, harsher pain and Keith flees to the bathroom, slamming the door and yanking down jeans and boxers just in time not the ruin them as his tail lengthens from the base of his spine. “Keith?” Shiro’s voice is high with worry. “Baby?” Keith scrambles out of the rest of his clothes before they rip, and thunks his forehead on the door, ears pressing back into his skull. He feels the last prickle over and under his skin as his fur finishes growing in and licks his own nose. He can do that now. Because he has big pointy teeth, an extra-long tongue, and a muzzle. Because Keith is a werewolf, and he’s standing in his bathroom with an incredibly obvious hard on and a very confused boyfriend on the other side of the door. The situation is not ideal. “Keith?” There is a beat, a too long pause of silence, and then the easily distinctive sounds of a metal buckle against leather. “I’m so sorry, baby. I should have… waited. Or shown you the stuff when it arrived so we could talk about it more.” Shiro makes a pained sound. Keith doubts it would be audible to the human ear, but Keith’s ears have never been human and right now he can hear everything. That is not a good sound. “I- I know it’s a lot. And it’s fine if you don’t want to do it. I’m just gonna go-” “NO!” Keith’s exclamation is an unmistakable bark through the door. He is thankful that his rampant libido has only pushed him as far as this form, where he can at least still make words, even if his voice is much deeper and rougher. “Stay.” He bites his fangs shut on a whine, tail automatically pressed hard between his legs. “Please.” “Keith?” Shiro’s voice is low now, and soft. He is so close, Keith can hear him stroking the door with his polymer and metal fingers. “Is everything alright? You can talk to me, gorgeous.” He takes a breath, his scent more green-calm now that yellow-tinted worry. “I love you.” “I love you too.” Keith knows his voice is gravelly and thick with teeth. “I’m sorry.” “Babe- you don’t have anything to be sorry for. I just sprung it on you and that was really bad on my-” “Shiro,” Keith cuts him off, unable to listen to the man he loves blame himself for something he didn’t do. “Shut up.” Shiro silences instantly. “I have to tell you something.” Keith closes his eyes as he inhales, seeking the scent under the concern and worry and doubt flavouring the air. Shiro’s natural scent – a little woody, a little spicy – is still touched with the warm pink and red tones of lust and desire, and as Keith’s clawed, padded fingers wrap around the door handle, he hopes he can keep a hold of that thread. “Hi.” Shiro is standing in the doorway, ears slightly askew, still naked but with a blanket thrown over his shoulders like a cape, the soft leather collar clutched tight in his natural hand. His thumb moves over the tag, making it clink against the metalwork, and Keith hears the way his own breath catches in his throat as he reads those three little words again. Property of Keith And then Keith growls. “Mine.” “Keith?” Shiro sounds surprised, but not shocked. His eyes are huge, tracking over Keith like a touch, as sure and worshipful as his hands. Keith watches him swallow – the bob of his Adam’s apple and the click of his throat – and feels the way his libido rises up with it. He wants that pretty neck encircled by that pretty collar, the one that declares Shiro as his. “Shiro… I’m sorry baby. I’ve wanted to tell you for ages. Since the first time we… I’m a- I’m a werewolf.” Keith glances down at himself – the fur, the tail, the digigrade legs ending in paws with his sharp claws scraping slightly against the slipperiness of the tiled floor. He sighs, flicking his ears back and forth. “Obviously a werewolf.” Shiro cocks is head to one side. It is – frankly – adorable. “Like your cousin?” Keith gapes at him. “You know about Regris?!” “Sure.” Shiro shrugs, as though this is a perfectly normal conversation. “Caught him and Lotor cuddling in a rather… close manner. You know how much Lotor hates clothes.” Keith rolls his eyes, his entire body language displaying how completely unsurprised he is at the revelation that Lotor and Regris were doing something deeply inappropriate and underdressed, somewhere public. He knows that Lotor blames his whole… everything, on growing up in a shifter household despite not getting the gene but Keith is certain that’s bollocks. Lotor just has no shame at all. “When was this?” Keith doesn’t miss the shiver which runs through Shiro at his tone. A waft of scent makes his nose itch as Shiro adjusts his blanket cape, and Keith licks the rough flesh again. “Back in the summer,” Shiro replies. “That campout-BBQ your parents had at their woods?” Keith gapes at him, ears splayed out to the side, fur flat. His parents hold a summer meet up for the extended family every summer, but that was months ago. “But you never… I mean we didn’t talk about it… you knew?” Shiro frowns softly, rubbing the leather of the collar with the pad of one thumb again. “About you? No, not as such.” Keith can hardly believe what he’s hearing, but he blinks, trying to stay focused. There is a river of red lust weaving through the air between them, and Keith doesn’t need to look down to know that most of it is emanating from him. His dick throbs, not that his paw pads are smooth enough for him to dare touch himself. Keith tries to push those thoughts down; he doubts they will be useful to him in the immediate future “And… you’re OK with the fact that I’m a-? And that I never told you?” “Keith…” Shiro steps forward, closing the distance between them, and his free hand presses into the thick fur of Keith’s chest as – for the first time – his boyfriend leans up on tiptoes and angles his face upward to kiss him. Hard. Keith cannot kiss him back, because the lips of his muzzle are not malleable like human lips are, and after a moment of hesitation, Shiro drops back down onto flat feet. Even in this form, Keith never actually thought he’d be taller than his staggeringly beefy boyfriend. “Baby?” Shiro bites his lip as he gazes up at Keith. “Are you alright? I can-” And the moment Shiro makes the tiniest motion to move backward, Keith has one very large hand wrapped around his waist, hauling him close. “Stay,” he rumbles, more a growl than words. “Mine.” Shiro sighs against him, breath warm, his scent sweet with joy. “Yes, Keith. Yours. All yours.” Shiro leans in to kiss him again, and Keith still can’t kiss in return, but when Shiro’s tongue swipes over his fangs, Keith groans, and licks him back. It’s messy and wet, but Shiro makes a delighted sound and presses his whole body tight to Keith, cape falling to the floor. He’s still hard too, and Keith scoops his other hand under the sculpted curve of Shiro’s arse to find that – yes – he is still wearing the tail plug. Keith growls, ears pricking forward. “Put the collar on.” “Keith?” Shiro pulls back to stare at him, panting a little, his lips parted and damp and shiny. Keith wants to kiss him again. “Put the collar on, Puppy.” Keith tightens his hold on Shiro’s waist, thumbs pressing into the soft flesh just under his navel. “Prove that you can be a good boy for me.” Shiro produces a soft, sharp whine of joy, and Keith cannot wait to make him make it again. But not here, not in the bathroom. He watches as Shiro reaches up to fasten the collar around his throat, loving the soft sounds of the leather under his fingers, the clink of the tag as it settles in the little hollow between his collarbones. Keith grins, one ear cocked forward. “Bed.” Shiro takes one step towards their bedroom, and Keith snaps his teeth in admonishment. “No, Puppy. Your bed.” He points back towards the couch and the thick, folded blanket Shiro has left there. “Bed.” And Shiro lights up. He looks for a moment as though he wants to say something, but then he remembers himself, straightens and settles his ears, and paces over to the makeshift bed with his long black tail swaying behind him. The fur which runs along the underside is white – like the fur inside the ears – but otherwise it’s almost indistinguishable from Keith own tail. And Keith’s wags too at the view he is presented with as his boyfriend kneels down, hands in front of him, waiting patiently for his master. Keith follows, gazing down at his boyfriend, enraptured with the sight. Shiro is flushed all the way down his expansive chest and fully hard, his cock jutting forward from the join of his thighs as he blinks up at Keith. “Good Puppy.” Shiro preens, and Keith cannot resist the desire to reach down and run and hand through his dark locks, pulling the soft white floof back from his forehead. He moves Shiro to rest against his leg, cheek pressed to his thigh, and watches Shiro’s eyes flutter closed. Everything around him is thick with lust and want and desire, and Keith chuffs with pride. “There’s my good boy.” Shiro woofs softly. It is not a dog noise. Shiro is – after all – not a dog, but Keith wags his tail anyway. His boyfriend is adorable. Just when Shiro is leaning most of his weight against Keith, he steps back, mindful of the increased weight and sharpness of his paws as he does so. Shiro produces a mournful little whimper at the lack of contact, but Keith maintains his resolve and paces over to the couch. He has never sat on it in this shape, and it takes him a moment to organise and readjust his longer limbs, until he settles back against the cushions. And then he looks over at Shiro. Everything about him – from his pose to his scent to his expression – is eager, just like a pup, straining toward Keith even though the only thing holding him back is that Keith told him to stay. The tag on Shiro’s collar flashes a bright disc of light, and Keith growls possessively. “You wanna come here, Puppy?” Keith pats his thigh – exactly the way his parents do for each other, just like he’s seen Matt beckon to Regris a hundred times, like a dozen members of his family have done for him when he’s been feral and wanted comfort and attention – and Shiro comes. Just like that. Shiro presses his face to Keith’s leg, rubbing his cheek and jaw through the coarse texture of his fur, moaning openly. The little thread of worry Keith had nursed that Shiro might not like the way he looks vanishes completely as his boyfriend shuffles closer and the movement brings all of Shiro into contact with Keith’s leg. Keith chuffs again, his stiff red cock bobbing with the vibrations from his chest, and trails his finger-pads across Shiro’s hair to cup his jaw again. “Pretty Puppy,” he croons, voice low, ears swivelled to track each and every micro-reaction Shiro makes. “Aren’t you just such a good boy for me? So eager.” Shiro whimpers, tongue slipping out to chase the tip of Keith’s thumb, and the tilt of his head gives Keith a perfect view of that pretty collar once again. With the tag which proclaims Shiro as his. Keith growls and hauls the man up into his lap. Shiro whines, as the heat of his cock and balls is dragged across Keith’s thickly furred thigh, rolling his hips to get more friction. Keith grins with all his teeth. “Want something Puppy?” Keith teases softly, wrapping his hands once more around Shiro’s trim waist. He can’t get over how much bigger he is than his boyfriend like this, and whilst he’s had Shiro straddle him plenty of times, this is the first time the other man could be described as actually being in his lap. Shiro whines, rocking his hips against Keith’s grip and Keith encourages the motion, loving the way his claws indent into Shiro’s pale skin without damaging him. Shiro is human, delicate even, but Keith knows he doesn’t need to be too careful with him. “That’s it... good boy. So eager that you wanna just hump my leg, huh?” Keith drops his face to press his muzzle along the soft space between Shiro’s jaw and the sharp cut of his cheekbone. Shiro shudders as Keith breathes hot against his earlobe, and jerks his hips forward again. Keith’s chest rumbles with pride. “Yeah, you do. Such a good puppy. Show me how hot you are for it.” Shiro whines, head dropping like he’s embarrassed, but Keith catches his chin with one sharp claw and turns him instead, to lick over his boyfriend’s mouth. Shiro licks him back, panting already as he sets a pace with his hips which is nothing like as quick as Keith knows he can go, but is still far faster than Shiro would normally want so early on in the evening. Keith doesn’t need to be in his wolf shape to know that Shiro is incredibly turned on, but it’s nice to hear his pulse climb so rapidly. Keith has never kissed anyone else, not like this, and though it’s not really kissing in the traditional sense, it is thrilling to lap at Shiro’s lips and his tongue, delicious to have that plumper, shorter muscle trying to mimic his movement and spur him on. Keith drags his tongue across Shiro’s cheek, then nuzzles more firmly at his ear and into his hair in order to hear the way his boyfriend, his puppy, groans and whines. Shiro’s not saying a word, but Keith’s never heard him be more vocal. “My good boy.” Keith wraps his hand around the collar, tilting Shiro’s face away to nose over his neck. “All mine.” Shiro keens something which might be a ‘yes’ if he was allowing himself to talk, then moans as Keith licks over his pulse point again and again with the rough flat of his tongue. Keith is consumed with the idea of what it will be like to lick Shiro in other, far more sensitive places. His wolf tongue is far longer than his human one after all. But he doesn’t want to stop what they’re doing either, and there is something so fucking feral and uncontrolled about Shiro rutting helplessly against his thigh, dragging the weight of his cock through Keith’s fur. There is no escaping Keith’s textures like this, the fact that he is a werewolf and not the usual shape Shiro is used to seeing in their bed, and the fact that it seems to turn Shiro on more makes Keith’s blood sing. He wants this man to be his and his alone, forever. “Come on, Puppy. Show me what a good boy you’re going to be for me.” Keith grabs Shiro’s hips more firmly and takes over the motion, setting a faster pace and firmer pressure, so that the thick muscle of his thigh and the long strands of his black pelt are dragging again and again over Shiro’s cock and his taint and every inch of thin skin between his legs. Shiro’s blunt nails scrabble at his shoulders, head dropping to Keith’s collarbones, and Keith leans in closer as he works Shiro over and over on his leg. “Good boy. Come on, good boy, spill yourself all over me. Show me how much you like your master’s body.” “Kee-” Shiro’s half gasp becomes and whine and then a groan as he grinds himself down against Keith’s thigh. Keith doesn’t relent, not even when he feels the minute shift in heat as Shiro’s balls tighten right before he starts to come. Everything is heightened, even more so that it usually is for Keith, and he pants as he experiences each moment of Shiro’s orgasm almost as if it was his own. His boyfriend groans between clenched teeth as he comes in messy streaks across Keith’s fur, whimpers as he spasms afterwards, Keith still rocking the thick length of his cock through the mess of his emission and Keith's fur. Keith loves the way Shiro’s cock throbs against him, a rapid echo of Shiro’s heartbeat so close to the centre of his own heat. When Shiro’s whimper changes in pitch again, Keith stops moving him, knowing he’ll be oversensitive, but doesn’t let Shiro move away. “Good boy,” he rumbles. “Perfect, baby. Such a good Puppy.” Keith drops his hand to Shiro’s cock and pets gently over the velvet soft skin. Shiro shudders in his hand, and his dick throbs. Keith grins at the result, knowing that whilst Shiro will need time to recover, he won’t go soft now that Keith has worked him through the first bit of his refractory period. Keith’s fingers automatically begin to creep towards the wet tip of his own cock. The backs of his claws come away shiny, and he does not miss the way Shiro’s eyes focus on them. “You want a treat, Puppy?” Shiro nods in affirmation, so hard that his cute little ears bounce in time, and Keith cannot help but pet those too as he shifts his legs, opening his stance to make welcome for Shiro between his knees. “You’ve been so good, Puppy. Go ahead, you can do whatever you like.” Shiro hums wordlessly as he sticks out the tip of his tongue and laps shyly at Keith’s damp claws. Keith knows what he tastes like – the disadvantages of losing opposable thumbs in his feral shape are somewhat recouped by the benefits of a highly flexible spine when it comes to self pleasure after all – but the noise of delight Shiro makes at the sharp burst of tangy pre-come makes Keith shiver all the way down to his tail. He sucks down a few deep breathes as his boyfriend slithers back to his knees, because Keith feels far less in control that he did a moment previously. He really needs to not do something stupid right now and break the scene they’re in by proposing, or something else equally dumb. Instead, he grounds himself by slipping on thumb between the back of Shiro’s neck and the leather and buckle of his collar, loving the way the material pulls tighter against his boyfriend’s skin, the silver tag glinting like a tease. Shiro is staring at Keith’s cock, and Keith reminds himself that his boyfriend won’t have ever seen something that looks like him up close before. That, and the fact that most of the porn is wrong when it comes to werewolf anatomy is bound to make Shiro a little hesitant about getting started. “Wherever you like, Puppy. It’s all good.” Keith uses his fingers to stroke over Shiro’s undercut as he reassures his boyfriend. His cock bobs enthusiastically. Shiro is still staring, like he doesn’t know what to do. But his lips are parted and damp and Keith’s pulse hitches as he watches Shiro’s tongue flutter unconsciously over his lips. Keith swallows. “Why don’t you start at the base, Puppy? Lots of tongue.” Two seconds later, Keith is reminded how good his boyfriend is at taking orders, and groans as he throws his head back into the cushions. He could kick himself for not taking the lead sooner, but there’s no point, because Shiro is licking and sucking with enthusiasm at the base of his shaft before he begins sliding up, mouthing messily over the softly swollen flesh of Keith’s knot. And it feels so much better than when Keith’s does it to himself – partly because Shiro can actually use his lips as well as his tongue – but mostly because it is Shiro. Shiro is fondling Keith’s cock with his tongue, and the sight of his boyfriend with his hair mussed up and his ears all fluffy and his lips smeared with Keith’s fluids is enough to make Keith dizzy. “Fuck… Puppy… unngh!” Keith lets’ his fingers comb through Shiro’s hair and over his ears, rubbing his scalp through his hair, petting him liberally as Shiro laps his way up the underside of Keith’s dick. “G-good- good boy.” Shiro produces a happy noise, and wraps his lips around the taped head of Keith's cock and sucks, and Keith digs his claws sharply into a throw cushion in the corner of the sofa in order to avoid actually hurting his boyfriend. It’s so much, and Keith’s vision goes ever sharper as his canine senses start to reduce his world view down to the immediate sensation of ‘hot wet hole’ and the desire for sexual gratification. Keith eases Shiro back, just a little, breathing hard through his nose. “It’s OK, baby. You’re doing great. Just… need a minute.” Keith tries to soothe the sting of his words while stroking through Shiro’s hair again. “Don’t wanna hurt you, Puppy. You’re being so good.” Shiro tilts his head, questioning softly, and Keith smiles at him. And then, Shiro wiggles his hips, and his tail wags from side of side enthusiastically. Keith’s own tail smacks double time into the sofa in delight. He had – almost – forgotten about the fact that his boyfriend was not only wearing a tail, but is therefore already prepped for him. Keith chuffs. “Good boy. Gently now.” Keith uses his hold on Shiro’s collar to ease him in softly, and Shiro does just as asked and begins to lap slowly and wetly at Keith’s cock, sliding his lips along the shaft and around Keith’s thickening knot. When he licks over the tip, he doesn’t linger, and Keith almost misses the intense high of Shiro’s sucking. But that needs to wait for a time when he isn’t feeling quite so feral, and possibly when he’s restrained. “There you go… there’s my good boy.” Shiro preens at Keith’s praise and rubs his face into Keith’s pelt whilst keeping his lips on Keith’s cock. “Look at you getting yourself covered in my scent. Everyone is gonna know you belong to me.” Keith skims his fingers under Shiro’s collar again. “’Cause you’re mine, aren’t you Puppy? My good, pretty boy.” Shiro presses into his touch, getting as close as he can as he continues to kiss messily over Keith’s cock. Keith’s knot is thicker now, more pronounced but still soft, and Keith knows exactly where he wants to put it. “Bed time, Puppy.” Shiro pulls back with a soft moan at being denied further treats, but turns back on all fours towards the blanket bed he made earlier. Keith tugs a little on his collar. “No. Big bed. Good dogs get rewards.” Shiro happy yap sounds exactly like a person pretending to be a dog, but Keith cannot find it anything other than adorable. He barks back – the noise deeper and rougher and far, far louder – and it’s almost a shame Shiro’s fluffy ears don’t perk up at what would be a clear invitation to play if he was another werewolf. Keith stands, ducking a little in order to keep his ears away from the light fixtures and grins, tongue lolling, as the idea hits him. He double pats his chest with both hands. “Up!” Shiro doesn’t say ‘huh?’ but it’s a near thing before he recalls himself and turns it into a woof with a question mark. Keith chuckles. “Come on! Good boy!” He repeats the motion, tapping before holding out his arms. “Up!” Shiro scrambles to his feet, clearly still a little confused, but before he can worry about how he is supposed to climb a werewolf, Keith scoops him up. He cradles Shiro in his arms, belly up and legs hanging over Keith’s elbows, and he leans down to nuzzle at Shiro’s tummy. Shiro huffs a laugh, and then Keith licks him, snorting deliberately, and Shiro becomes a mess of giggles and flailing limbs at the tickling. “Awww,” Keith croons happily. “Such a good happy puppy.” He keeps Shiro held high against his chest as he makes his way to the bedroom, and next time he drags his tongue lower, making Shiro laugh again, before the noise turns into a desperate whine. Shiro’s cock against Keith’s wolf tongue is smooth and delicious, touched with a sweet dribble of pre-come. “My beautiful Puppy. Gorgeous.” Shiro blushes pink, the scar across his nose paling with the colour until it almost vanishes, and Keith chuffs happily. And then the soft light in the bedroom flashes off the tag on the collar again, the chuff turning into a rumbling growl of possessive desire. Property of Keith “My Puppy.” Shiro nods, squirming as he is put down on the mattress. “My good dog.” Keith lets his hands drag now as he strokes his way across Shiro’s body, loving the fit of his bigger digits over Shiro’s ribs, the curve of his hip, the dip of his back as he turns under the attention. “Show me how good you are.” Shiro whines, rutting down against the sheets just once before he pulls his cock away from the friction and gets himself properly displayed on his knees. The air is thick with the scent of lust, the rich tang of desire and the heady, almost spicy fragrance of devotion. Keith is almost dizzy with it. He palms over the sweet curve of Shiro’s arse, squeezing gratuitously just to watch the flesh bounce back into shape as he releases it. Shiro would let him do anything, Keith is sure, and the knowledge makes the growl rumble in his chest again. “Mine.” Shiro keens between his teeth, back arching. “Good boy.” Keith drops to his haunches, giving himself an unrivalled view between Shiro’s thighs, then leans in without warning and laps a long stripe across Shiro’s erection, over his balls and up the soft skin of his arse until he reaches Shiro’s tail. The position Shiro is holding makes it curve, arching up over his spine, and Keith cannot resist the desire to wrap his hand around it and tug just a little as he strokes. The action is enough to make whatever plug is holding it in place tug slightly on Shiro’s rim, and his boyfriend whimpers in the most delightful manner. “Good Puppy. So patient.” Shiro makes a deeper noise of need, and Keith growls, pressing the cold wetness of his nose to the sensitive flesh of Shiro’s perineum. Keith turns his head, rubbing his furred muzzle over Shiro’s hot flushed skin, relishing how smooth his boyfriend is against him. All their differences just spur Keith on. Keith gives Shiro’s tail another little pull, his own wagging behind him with enthusiasm. He wants to draw this out, but Keith also knows there is only a limited amount of time he’ll be able to keep all his instincts in check, until he is literally snapping his fangs in order to get his knot in. He settles for wrapping a large hand around Shiro’s upper thigh and pushes the end of his muzzle right up beside the base of Shiro’s tail, already licking messily at where the plug vanishes into his boyfriend’s body. Eating Shiro out is one of Keith’s favourite things to do at any given moment, and he’s excited to discover what noises he can pull from Shiro’s body with his far more dexterous tongue. Shiro gasps – very un-doglike – as Keith begins to ease the plug from his hole, and Keith laps around his rim constantly, the flesh twitching and puffy against his rough tongue. The plug attached to the toy is simple, smooth silicone and nicely shaped, and it lands weightily in Keith’s hand as he eases the rounded tip from Shiro’s hole. He breathes over Shiro’s winking flesh, rumbling another possessive growl at the sight. “Good boy. So good. All ready for me, baby?” Shiro whines, which given the circumstances Keith takes as consent, and laps directly over Shiro’s entrance. His boyfriend almost jerks completely away from him, the sensation doubtless a shock after so long teasing himself with that plug and the swaying motion of his tail; but Keith tightens his grip around Shiro’s thigh, the points of his claws digging into Shiro’s soft flesh without breaking the skin. “Stay,” he barks. “Good Puppy.” Shiro whimpers, head dipping down between his shoulders, and Keith repeats the motions, dragging as much of his tongue over Shiro’s flesh as he can. Shiro tenses against him, and then his next breath has his muscles relaxing again. Keith interprets it as an invitation and pushes straight in. “AHH!” Shiro vibrates, shaking against him, body taut at the sudden invasion. “Ffff-!” his teeth clench shut on the end of the word, and after that he just moans. Keith rubs a hand up his spine soothingly. “Good boy,” he says against Shiro’s skin after he slides his tongue back out from that intense pressure. “So sweet and good for me. You can do it.” “Hnnngh…” Shiro whine is desperate, wanton, gorgeous. “That’s right. Gonna be so good for me, aren’t you?” Shiro nods wordlessly. Keith spends a minute nosing around under his boyfriend’s balls, lapping enthusiastically everywhere he can reach until all of Shiro’s natural scent is tainted with his own, and then drags nose and tongue back up to Shiro’s hole. This time Shiro does not call out, but his groan is long and deep and full of satisfaction and pleasure. Keith grins to himself, keeping both ears trained on Shiro’s reactions, his jaws opening wide as he fills his boyfriend’s hot body with as much of his long tongue as he can. When Keith rests his long fangs in the little hollow of Shiro’s tailbone, the man shivers, but whines the moment Keith starts to move back. Keith swirls the tip of his tongue – it is a strong muscle after all – and Shiro nearly collapses onto the bed, limbs shaking with pleasure. It becomes a game then, almost, and Keith wraps both hands around Shiro’s thighs to keep him on his knees whilst simultaneously trying his best to force his boyfriend to collapse. Keith switches between long, deep licks, with wetly lapping across Shiro’s hole and his balls – deliberately not touching his leaking cock. Shiro spasms and whimpers, sweaty and flushed, grabbing at the sheets and pulling all the bedding askew as he tries to find something to do with all the tension in his body. When Keith begins to breach him with his tongue in a far faster manner – tongue fucking his boyfriend in a way he can only manage in his shape – Shiro’s loses all pretence at keeping himself upright. His entire upper body splays out onto the mattress, drooling against the sheets as he moans. Keith is very tempted to make his boyfriend come like this, but his own cock is throbbing hotly and he needs to fuck this man and ensure the world knows that he is Keith’s mate once and for all. Keith pulls his tongue out, and Shiro makes a mournful little whimper which has Keith scrambling up onto the bed, only slightly mindful of his claws, covering his boyfriends body with his own, crooning in his ear and he pulls Shiro flush back against him. He can feel Shiro’s heart, hammering double time against his ribs, and Keith wraps both arms underneath him to hold tight to that sensation for a moment before he jerks his hips on instinct, his cock seeking its target. “Such a good boy for me, Shiro. Perfect Puppy.” Shiro whines, begging with his entire body for what is about to come. Keith chuffs. “All mine. My good boy.” He can’t kiss Shiro, so Keith licks at the curve of his ear and sharp angle of his jaw, and then he leans back again, because no amount of cuddling is going to be worth missing out on the sight of Shiro’s body taking in his cock for the first time. Keith takes himself in hand, squeezing around the swallow flesh of his knot, and smears his pre-come down his length quickly before lining himself up with Shiro’s winking hole. Shiro pushes back against him, body unfurling, wanting more, and Keith watches the way his red shaft sinks and sinks into Shiro. It is a sight like no other, and by the time his knot is resting against the swell of Shiro’s arse, Keith is panting. Shiro’s mouth was hot and tight, but this is constricting and smooth in the best way, and Keith feels heady with the way Shiro’s softness yields to him. He keeps Shiro where he wants him with the span of his broad hands, and pulls back before fucking in again with force and speed. Shiro makes a punched out gasp, like he wasn’t expecting it, and Keith feels the instinct to just fuck and fuck until he’s finished, rearing up at the back of his mind. This is his mate, and he has waited a long time to have him like this. Keith snarls and drops back down over Shiro’s back, moulding himself against his boyfriend’s spine. “Mine.” “Hnnngh!” “Say it!” he snaps, teeth biting on nothing even as his hips smack forward into Shiro’s flesh. “Yours!” Shiro blurts. “Yours, Keith. I’m yours.” “Mine,” Keith growls. He fucks deep into Shiro, bracing himself over his boyfriend, licking his cheek and his neck, and croons softly in his ear even as he picks up the pace. There’s something else he wants before he gives Shiro his knot. “Gonna come for me, pretty boy?” Keith angles his hips, aiming for Shiro’s prostate. A yowl lets him know when he hits it, and then each thrust is aimed for that spot every time. “You gotta come for me, get you nice and relaxed so you can take the rest.” “R-rest?” Shiro whimpers, breathless. “Yeah, baby. Gonna knot you up real good and keep you on my cock. All night if you like.” Shiro makes a noise which can only be interpreted as euphoric, and Keith growls happily against his neck, tongue flicking at the edge of the leather collar. “Mine inside and out. Yeah, Puppy?” “Keith-!” Keith leans down on one forearm, working the other down to Shiro’s crotch, and to his delight it takes only a few pulls of Shiro’s thick cock before his boyfriend is spasming again and messing up the sheets. His body clenches and pulses around Keith, but Keith keeps fucking through it, grinding his knot against Shiro’s hole, whenever Shiro tightens too much, growling more praise when he relaxes again. “Good boy. Perfect.” Keith moves his hand to Shiro’s plush behind, pulling him open, watching at the way their flesh slides together. He’s so close. “Mine.” “Please-!” It’s a broken sob, hardly even a word, and Keith is filled with the knowledge that even though Shiro has come, he still wants more. “Please, Keith.” “Good boy.” Keith pushes his knot right up against Shiro’s rim, pulling Shiro back into him. There is a measurable increase in pressure, something builds between them, and then the tension snaps and with a smooth, tight slide and a groan which is practically a scream, Shiro’s body finally opens to him. Keith’s knot is surrounded by a heat and pressure he has no frame of reference for, and he snarls, claws shredding the bedsheets, all higher brain functions suddenly gone. This is his mate. He needs to come. Nothing else matters. Keith growls – too loud – and his hips smack forward as instinct takes over everything. He pounds into Shiro, crushing him down into the mattress, teeth scraping harmlessly across his shoulder, tongue following, grinding his knot tighter and tighter into that wet heat as his hips move in a blur. And then Shiro’s hand reaches up over his head and strong human fingers tighten in the longer fur between Keith’s own ears and Keith loses it. He can barely breathe, hardly see, nothing exists but the overwhelming Shiro-ness filling up every single of his senses. His knot swells and hardens and he comes and comes and doesn’t seem to ever stop, cock pulsing into the tight channel of Shiro’s body, marking him as Keith’s. Keith has no idea how long it takes, or when it is that he slumps sideways – Shiro helpless but to follow with the way they are locked together – but he comes to with his boyfriend pillowed against his bicep, free hand stroking over Keith’s own hip, his other hand still playing with Keith’s ears. Shiro’s own ears have been knocked very askew on his head, and Keith snorts softly as he pulls them off, nosing through Shiro’s soft hair as he does so. He loves Shiro’s hair. “Hey,” Shiro sounds pleased, sated, and nothing about his scent hints that his is uncomfortable. “You back with me now, baby?” “Yeah,” Keith groans, he’s the one who sound like he spent part of the evening enthusiastically sucking cock. “Fuck, you’re amazing.” “Coming from you….” Shiro sighs wistfully. “My boyfriend is a werewolf.” “Mmmmm…” Shiro shifts a little in his arms, and Keith cannot help but slide his fingers down to where they are joined, paw pads a little rough against Shiro’s thinner skin. “Sorry gorgeous. I can’t move yet.” “Don’t be sorry.” Shiro grabs Keith’s hand and kisses the pad he has in place of his palm. “It’s amazing – it’s a lot, I’m so full – but it’s wonderful. Thank you, sweetheart.” “Whenever you like… Puppy.” A little thrilled shiver runs through Shiro at the pet name. “You like it?” “Very much,” Keith confirms. He strokes over the collar. “This especially. I like you being mine.” “Oh, baby. I was yours long ago.” Keith blinks, and clamps his teeth shut to stop him saying something stupid. He is not proposing to his boyfriend the first time he knots him – it’s too much like a terrible cliché. Instead, he licks Shiro’s arm where it crosses his muzzle in order to reach his ears. He misses kissing. “I can shift back down now, if you want.” “Won’t that mean you lose your kn-” Shiro pauses, interrupting himself. “Down? Does that mean there’s an ‘up’ option too?” “Yes….” Keith frowns softly, but his tail thwacking into the mattress with enthusiasm gives him away. “I can do the full feral thing. Handy for running in the woods, you tend to only get mistaken as a ‘big dog’ rather than a fantasy creature.” Shiro turns his head as much as possible, and grins at Keith. “So… we could be dogs together?” Keith snorts a laugh, and buries his nose in the curve of Shiro’s neck, drinking in their combined scents. “Yes, baby. You’re such a dork.” “But I’m yours,” Shiro reminds him softly, still stroking Keith’s ears. “Your dork.” “Mmmm…” Keith stretches. “I love you.” Keith waits a moment, bringing his breathing back under careful control, and then he eases himself from Shiro’s hole with a lewd squelch. His cock is softer now, knot deflating, and Keith knows he will soon slide back into his furry sheath. He closes his eyes and rolls his spine as his body reforms itself into another, slightly smaller, canine shape. Shiro stares as Keith gets up on all fours and paces in a circle on the ruined bed. “You’re beautiful.” Keith snorts, flicking one ear, and slumps directly back down against Shiro, muzzle lying in the curve of Shiro’s waist. Shiro moves to stroke his head again, one fingertip rubbing little circle between Keith’s eyes. Keith wags his tail, the appendage flops sleepily. “Good night, baby.” Keith rumbles a similar sentiment. It’s a good thing he cannot talk right now, because cliché or not, his lack of human voice box is about the only thing stopping Keith from proposing on the spot. By the flood of adoration in the room, he’s pretty sure Shiro must know it. Keith settles down to sleep. Maybe he will propose to his puppy in the morning.

Keith is still discovering fun new things to do - both in bed and out of it - with his boyfriend. They're in love, and it's awesome. Shiro has met his family, Keith had met Shiro's family, they've found a place together, Keith knows he wants to marry the guy one day. But, Keith has a secret... and he doesn't want to keep on keeping it.

thank you! I do love it so much, and yeah, there's a lot of personal stuff in there. time for a game of "spot the sasha" in amongst Marty and Hrishi's experiences.

thank you Jeff. I doubt this AU will be up for a revisit. My WIP list is longer than Shiro's dick... thank you darlin'

thank you darlin'

"completed work"

Keith quite likes his regular job as a life model. It fits well between other seasonal gigs, and the opportunity to sit still and do nothing but empty his mind is relaxing. It’s like meditation which pays. He doesn’t always talk to the artists, because he understands that for some of them, it’s kind of weird to spend so long staring at him naked and then have to not think about that when speaking face to face. And so often he finds the comments run in the direction of ‘oh, I could never do that’. But Keith doesn’t mind being naked and watched by people he doesn’t know. He’s confident in his body, relaxed and comfortable in the shape he inhabits, and apparently he’s got a good look for drawing. It’s a win-win. This is, until his Wednesday evening session at Altea studios rolls around and there is a new artist seated at the central easel. And Keith can’t look anywhere else. New guy – Keith always misses introductions on account of not being required under the warming lamps until everyone has set up – is big and buff and looks like he spends all of his time at the gym. No one gets biceps like that without serious effort. Keith blinks. Bicep like that. Singular. New guy has long legs and shoulders like a superhero and only one arm. The silver hair – so clearly not dyed out of a bottle – on someone who otherwise looks like a classical statue, gives him an otherworldly appearance. His easel is set up with charcoals and paper, but if Keith squints, he’s sure he can see plasticine sticking out of the guy’s tote. The poses for the evening involve lots of movement, and when the long one comes about, Keith ends up facing the wrong way. He scowls in the privacy of his own head at the loss of opportunity to check out the new artist, because for the first time in a long time, Keith swears he can feel the other man’s gaze roaming across his bare skin. * A week later, and Keith watches from behind the curtain of the little dressing room as the students file in. Sure enough, big, buff, and beautiful is among them. He doesn’t make conversation much, but appears to be listening politely to Pidge as they hold forth about the study of cubist versus contemporary art styles. “Oh Shiro.” Allura waves tall, handsome, and silver over to an easel. “I set this one up for left hand use already, if you like?” Shiro. It’s nice, exotic. Keith tastes it in a whisper on his lips. Delicious. “Who are you looking at?” Keith turns from his view of Shiro and Allura talking – Allura owns Altea studios and is a fantastic classical painter in her own right – to his co-star for the evening. Sessions with dual models attract larger crowds, and he and Hunk tend to be especially popular because they have great opposing body types. “New guy,” Keith answers softly. “I like the way he looks.” At me, he thinks, but doesn’t say. “Oh, tall…” Hunk comments. “C’mon buddy, they’ll be wanting us out there.” By their very nature, double life model poses tend to be more dynamic and therefore shorter. Most are only seven minutes tops, which feels like far longer when you are standing braced against another person, in the simulation action of pushing them over or holding them up. They do only one pose where Hunk is actually holding the bulk of Keith’s weight as he ‘falls’, but that’s super short and they allow the students to take reference photos from their easels before they switch. Whenever he can, Keith watches Shiro. Shiro sits sideways to his easel, charcoal or pencil in hand. His eyes never seem to stray to what he’s drawing as he works, and he keeps contact on the page almost constantly, working in continuous lines rather than a series of shorter strokes. In each pose, Keith can feel the way Shiro’s eyes travel over him, following or leading the motion of his hand, and it makes Keith never want to look away. But Shiro stops often, placing his implement down to stretch and flex his hand, or roll his shoulder. And Keith finds his own gaze flicking again and again to Shiro’s tote, and the shape of the plasticine within. The next time Shiro pauses to wince and flex, Keith is certain of his first assumption that the man is not a natural two-dimensional artist. The longer poses always come at the end of the session, and beforehand they have a break. Keith shrugs into his robe – red with black trim, slightly satiny, but warm – flexes until his spine cracks, and steps down from the dais just as Allura approaches with a high stool. It looks like he gets to sit for the next bit. Excellent. “All well?” “Peachy,” Keith replies with a grin. “Everyone is sketching tonight?” “Seems so.” Keith pretends to think, then smiles. Allura rolls her eyes; Keith doesn’t fool her. “Maybe it’s worth reminding them that this is a multimedia session?” “Indeed.” Allura arches an eyebrow at him, and Keith jogs off to get a quick drink and one of Hunk’s home-made cookies. For blood sugar. It’s surprising how draining just posing can be. Just as Keith and Hunk are about to drop their robes and assume the next pose in the list taped to the floor – Keith sit, Hunk stand, arms over shoulders – Allura rings a note out on the Tibetan singing bowl next to her desk and all the students look to her when she speaks. “You have all produced excellent work so far this evening, but I do not wish you to feel constrained by a single medium. You should use whatever materials you like. This will be a twenty minute pose; be adventurous.” There is a general murmur of assent from the class, and the moment Keith hangs up his robe and settles on the stool, Pidge is the first one to switch her drawing materials for a massive folder of randomly coloured and textured papers and a glue stick. As they start to rip segments for a collage piece, other students select paints and brushes, one goes for chunky pigmented oil sticks, and Keith wraps his arm over Hunk’s broad shoulders and watches Shiro hesitate. The man looks at his bag once, twice, rolls the stick of hazelwood charcoal in his fingers, then smiles, places it down and moves his sketch and easel to the side. Shiro places an unused drawing board across his spread knees as he faces the front properly, and Keith can’t help but stare at the disparity between the sheer width of his shoulders – and the thick pecs he can see straining the neck of his henley – and the narrowness of such a tiny waist. The girth of Shiro’s thighs does not escape his attention either. Then Shiro reaches for his plasticine and Keith’s entire focus narrows down to the little maquette of himself and Hunk taking shape on the board. Even one handed, Shiro is obviously a natural sculptor. His broad, dexterous fingers pinch and smooth the modelling putty with a focus and commitment which is completely mesmerising. Keith cannot look away, not even when Shiro’s eyes travel over his face. He wishes it was his flesh being moulded under that firm but gentle touch. The way Shiro handles his materials tells Keith in no uncertain terms that this is a man very good with his hand. The moment Keith feels his dick stir with the interested, heated pattern of his thoughts, he shoves them aside, and wills himself flaccid once more. It is a skill practised and honed out of necessity, because group homes have no privacy, and even after moving in with his uncles, Keith hadn’t always had the time or desire to deal with his morning erection in the traditional manner. The talent has come in very handy for life modelling too, because when Keith’s mind is empty it makes a perfect landing pad for randomly horny fantasies. Almost none of them ever involve broadcasting his desires to a room full of strangers who are paying to stare at him. By the end of the session – two more poses, one with both standing and one both sitting back to back – Keith is only slightly chubbed, but the moment his robe goes on, his dick springs to full attention and he doesn’t get the chance to examine Shiro’s beautifully rendered maquettes before excusing himself. He and Hunk can hear the chatter of the group from behind the curtain as they pull on their clothes, and clearly Shiro’s models are the centre of attention for many. Compliments are piled upon him as Keith emerges once more – hastily dressed in black jeans and a band t-shirt with his leather jacket slung over one shoulder – and he sees the way Shiro ducks his head, biting his lower lip in a completely adorable fashion. He is bashful and self-effacing as he waves away the praise, the tips of his ears turning pink with his blush. “Thank you, thank you. Yeah, thanks. I mean, it would be better in real clay. But it’s too messy and hard to transport.” “You don’t work from sketches first?” Pidge enquires, on hands and knees to study the maquettes on the board. Keith feels a swell of rising jealousy to see anyone so close to Shiro’s lap. He shakes himself mentally. He has no claim whatsoever over the man. “I’m right handed.” Shiro shrugs, and the movement of his right shoulder and residual limb telegraphs exactly the palm-up gesture Keith knows he would be making. “Or I was. My drawing skills aren’t what they used to be.” It is the kind of comment which kills the conversation. There are few more ‘well done’ and ‘it looks great’ uttered, and people begin to disperse, intent on clearing away their own supplies before heading to wherever they will go to next. Shiro might be an incredibly gifted artist, but people are still uncomfortable to be reminded that he is working without a dominant hand most of them take for granted. The slight makes Keith equally annoyed and upset. “Hey.” Shiro blinks, and looks up at him. Even with Keith dressed, his gaze is reverential, worshipful, and Keith’s cock jerks unhelpfully in his tight jeans. He’s fairly certain anyone looking can see the imprint of his dick through the denim. “Y-you’re…” Shiro glances from Keith to the fabric draped couch where he spent the past half hour sitting back to back with Hunk. “Keith,” he supplies with a smile. “I’m Keith.” “Shiro.” “Yeah, I know.” Keith hunches down to be eye level with Shiro’s maquettes. “You’re a wonderful sculptor.” “Thank you.” Keith glances up at Shiro’s face – those intense grey eyes, the soft blush over his cheekbones, the gentle parting of his lips – and decides to jump in head first. “You know, if you want to work straight in clay, I’d be happy to come model at your studio sometime.” Shiro blushes harder, fingers splaying and tapping noiselessly against his thigh. “Oh, I er… don’t think I could afford your fees just on my own.” Keith waves his hand, pushing the issue aside. “I’ll give you a special rate. Say, dinner?” He smiles, confident and slightly lopsided. He doesn’t care about the money, he just wants Shiro’s worshipful gaze on him again, and wants to watch back without a dozen other people distracting him. “Oh…” “Does that sound like something you’d enjoy?” Keith bites his lip when he smiles and stands, hooking his thumbs into the front pockets of his jeans. He does not miss the way Shiro’s eyes land directly on his crotch. When Shiro returns the smile, there is a shining thread of boldness and self-assurance in his expression. Keith’s cock gives another unhelpful jerk against his hip. “Yes please.” Keith taps his number into Shiro’s phone, Shiro sets his profile picture as a snapshot of one of the maquettes. “Just one thing,” Shiro says as he accepts the phone back. “I don’t have a studio in town…” * Shiro’s studio is attached to his house, or at least, that’s what Keith assumes as he parks his motorbike in front of the little whitewashed cottage, inhaling the scent of a million roses and honeysuckle which climb over every wall. The man – and is it Keith’s imagination or have those muscles gotten bigger in the past week? – greets him at the door and ushers him through the house and into what Keith supposes used to be the dining room, but is now a pottery studio. The plumbing and power from the open plan kitchen has been extended and adapted, and there is certainly no need for heat lamps here – not with the huge gas-fired kiln squatting in the corner, shedding heat like Keith sheds clothes. “Can I get you anything?” Shiro asks as Keith toes off his boots and places them to the side. “I’m OK, thanks. Where do you want me?” There is an area already where Shiro has obviously taken some time cleaning and setting up. There is a chair, a stool, several cushions which definitely belong elsewhere in the house – owing to the lack of white and red clay smears – and a thick red and floral carpet upon which has been laid the fluffiest sheepskin Keith has ever seen. The moment he is naked, he wiggles his toes into the wool in unbridled delight. “Can you stay just there?” “Sure.” Keith stills, holding the pose with his hand in his hair, holding the falling strands back from his face as he looks down at his feet. “You do your thing Shiro. It’s why I’m here after all.” Without moving, Keith can just about track Shiro’s movements as he moves around the studio. He has work boards and clays set out already, a variety of tools and water jars at hand. The instant he begins smoothing and squeezing a lump of rust-orange clay into submission, Keith feels heat pool low in his belly. Shiro is looking at his legs – he can tell even with his admittedly poor view of the man – working his heated gaze over the taut cords of his hamstrings and the curve of each calf. Keith resists the urge to flex and tense his buttocks as he feels Shiro’s gaze graze higher over his body. When he licks his lips, Keith hears the click of Shiro swallowing in response, and the room gets hotter. He sits for the next pose, facing backwards on the chair, knees spread and arms folded across the back, chin in hand. Shiro tells him to stare into the middle distance but Keith would rather stare at Shiro, at the way his shoulders bend as he reaches down for more clay, at the twist of his impossibly small waist. He smiles as he works, adding material and smoothing it out until Keith is repeated again, only eighteen inches high in his sitting pose, his muscles turned to clay as Shiro layers skin over them with his thumb. Shiro is more relaxed here, more comfortable, as his freer movements cause him to wince less, though he still stops regularly to flex his fingers. Everything he touches – desk, work boards, the window latch, the hem of his shirt, his chin – is marked with rust red smears. Keith burns when Shiro looks at him, wanting to be marked too. As the pose goes on, Keith finds himself hardening under Shiro’s intense stare. He doesn’t try to will it away, he doesn’t want to, and the sight of Shiro’s fingers smoothing carefully down the bumps of his clay abs to the flat, softer skin of his lower belly makes Keith quiver with desire. It’s no wonder he cannot withstand the force of his libido. Shiro sprays his work with water and wraps loose plastic over it to control the humidity as the drying process begins, then crosses to the sink as Keith stretches and shakes out his joints. The clay he picks up upon his return is palest dove grey, smooth as silk between his fingers. “How do you want me?” Keith asks as Shiro brings a wire frame to the centre of his workspace. The three-dimensional stick figure gives him an idea of how he’s supposed to stand. “So do I have a polearm over my shoulders or am I a farmer in the field?” Keith takes up the wooden pole – looks like a handle off a broom – and lays it across the back of his neck, looping his forearms over it. “Please tell me I’m not going to be the dude on the cross?” Shiro chuckles, and the smile which splits his face makes Keith heart race. “No, none of those. They will be scales, eventually, hopefully. With flowers and fruit on one side, seeds and bones on the other.” Keith chews his lip for a moment, gazing down at the spaces where these items reside in Shiro’s mindscape. “Like the justice of the harvest?” “Exactly.” “Cool.” Keith leans his weight onto his left foot and looks back up at Shiro. “All good?” “Um…” Shiro pulls his lower lip in between his teeth with a little frown. His eyes dance across Keith, never settling, and Keith misses the intensity of his usual focus already. “Not quite.” “You’re allowed to put me where you want to Shiro. I’m all yours.” “Oh… er… feet closer together?” Keith does so. “Hmm…” “Come show me?” Keith suggests softly. With him standing across the room, Keith forgot just how much of Shiro there is. Closer to, and without the benefits of a platform to stand on, their height difference is thrown into sharp relief, and Keith spends an agonising minute staring at the man’s clavicle head-on before Shiro takes his chin and tilts his face downward and to the right side. The view down Shiro’s front is hardly any less exciting, and Keith’s cock throbs, heavy with the pulse of his arousal. Then Shiro moves the way Keith has settled his right arm over the pole, aligning it just how he wants, and Keith forgets how to breathe. Shiro’s hand is so firm and big and warm – even though Keith isn’t cold – and he wants to melt under that pressure. Keith shuffles his feet, knowing the pose still isn’t quite what Shiro wants. He feels a deep-seated need to do just as the other man wants, though his longing to be good isn’t enough to stop the steady throb of his pulse in his cock. Shiro bends to correct Keith’s pose, kneeling at his feet, his one hand skating over the curve of his hip and the swell of his thigh to grasp his ankle. Shiro’s eyes never leave him, and suddenly they are there like that, eyes locked, staring at each other. Keith wets his lips and sees Shiro track the movement of his tongue. His thighs quiver with want, and Keith thinks it’s a good thing he has his hands looped up and out of the way, because the temptation to touch Shiro, to push and take advantage of the situation, is almost unbearable as it is. Shiro leans in to tug at Keith’s ankle, encouraging him onto the ball of his foot. Keith turns his hips ever so slightly to keep balance, and his cock bumps across Shiro’s cheek and nose, following the soft line of the scar which cuts across his face. Shiro’s eyes flick up to his before the contact is even broken, and Keith is treated to the sight of Shiro looking at him whilst Keith’s tumescent erection rests against his jaw. “Oh…” Keith barely even realises he’s made a sound, because the inside of his head is full of hot fog. “Keith…” Shiro’s voice is low and longing, sweet and rich like molten chocolate. “Please?” Keith’s throat goes dry as Shiro’s hand skates up from his ankle, over the back of his knee, to his thigh. Shiro’s fingers nearly span the entire diameter of his leg. Shiro squeezes, then makes to lean back a fraction. After all, Keith’s dick is still touching his face. “Gods. Shiro… yes.” Shiro doesn’t say anything else, turning his face back towards Keith crotch, leaning in to breathe deeply as his lips press dryly against the thin skin between Keith’s hip and his crotch. Keith’s breath catches in his chest when Shiro squeezes his thigh again, and then Shiro places that same warm kiss against his shaft and Keith feels like he’s going to give out at the knees. He expected Shiro to just dive in, because what is there to think about? Keith’s already hard and it’s not like his cock is anything special – maybe a bit longer than people expect on a guy of his build, and pretty too, as far as cocks go – but not worth the intense consideration Shiro is giving him. Shiro places another kiss right near the base, humming as he does so, his eyes travelling over every inch of Keith’s skin from his navel down to his knees, and Keith bites his lip in order to keep from whimpering. “Let me hear you,” Shiro murmurs, lips moving over his skin as he makes his way along the length of Keith’s cock. “Beautiful,” he breathes over the head, causing Keith to shiver. The first touch of Shiro’s hand around him draws a punched out sound from Keith. Shiro makes a perfect circle with his thumb and forefinger, and he uses it to draw Keith’s foreskin back to expose his crown. Shiro’s breath is hot and damp across his sensitive skin. Shiro licks his lips, and Keith groans. “Please.” He doesn’t think he’s ever begged anyone for anything before, but Keith’s not too proud to admit that he is begging now. He’s never been more aware of his lack of hands. The pole over his shoulders creaks. “Shiro.” Shiro smiles, closes the distance between them, and licks the tip of Keith’s cock. “Fuck-!” Shiro makes a pleased noise, and just for a moment, Keith thinks the torture is over and that the sculptor is going to swallow him down. But Shiro breathes a second wet kiss across his dick, then eases the foreskin back again to lap at the slit. Keith’s hands become fists. “Ahhh…” “You’re so pretty, Keith,” Shiro purrs softly. From this angle, it’s not clear whether he’s talking about Keith or Keith’s dick. Keith doesn’t think he cares which it is. Keith whimpers, transferring his weight back onto his front foot, angling his hips to get Shiro’s mouth closer to his cock. He itches to thread his fingers into that tuft of silky looking silver hair, to stroke over Shiro’s eyebrow or rub the tips of his ears with his thumb. But he can’t do any of those things. Keith can only watch, holding onto his rampant libido by a fast fraying thread, as Shiro begins to lay slow and careful worship to his cock. It is the most non-traditional blowjob Keith has ever received, and undoubtedly the best by miles. He groans when Shiro’s hand releases him to trace up and down his thigh, whimpers when he leans into the big palm spread over his lower abdomen, keens when Shiro’s lips finally close around the head of his cock. By the time no more than an inch of his dick is inside Shiro’s velvet soft mouth, Keith is a shivering wreck, the pole over his shoulders is digging in painfully with the pressure he is exerting, and he feels like he could come if Shiro so much as looks at him directly. But Shiro continues in his soft manner, mapping Keith out with his hand and his tongue, pulling off his cock to kiss wetly down his length, pressing his face into the juncture between hip and thigh and inhaling once more with his soft grey eyes sliding shut. He wraps the base of Keith’s dick in his hand, holding him still – apparently just to look at him and nothing more – and Keith feels like he’s going insane as he babbles Shiro’s name over and over in a near incomprehensible litany. Shiro takes Keith into his mouth again, his hand sliding down to cup his balls and stroke over his taint, and the moment Shiro swallows around him, Keith is gone. “I- Shiro!” The pole over his neck feels like it is going to snap in two; Keith feels like he’s going to fly into pieces, and he grits his teeth and sobs out his pleasure as he comes in hard pulses down Shiro’s throat. Shiro grips him tightly around his upper thigh, steadying him, and Keith wishes he would hold tighter so it might bruise, and mourns that Shiro washed his hand and isn’t leaving bold rust red fingerprints on his skin. His orgasm is dizzying, euphoric, lengthy, and Keith almost doesn’t notice when his arms go slack and he drops the pole, ignoring it as it clatters and rolls away across the floor. All his attention is focused on the man who laps softly at his cock as he pulls away, wiping his lips on the back of his hand. “Holy fuck… Shiro…” Keith is proud of himself for even being able to string those words together. Shiro gets a leg under himself, as though making to stand, and Keith’s knees finally buckle. He knocks Shiro backward as he drops, fingers intent on the man’s clothes as Shiro gapes at him, wide-eyed. “K-Keith! You don’t have to- I mean, it’s not necessary for you to reciprocate.” Keith grinds down against him with a frown. Shiro is rock hard, and just as big and thick between his meaty thighs as he is everywhere else. Keith can hardly wait to see, but he pauses with one hand over the distinct bulge in Shiro’s joggers. “You don’t want to?” “No- I mean, yes- but-” Keith rolls his eyes. Shiro’s stammer is adorable, and his blush is cute as fuck, but he also just had his lips around Keith’s cock so he can hardly be pulling the innocence card. Keith stares at him levelly, not moving his hand, grinning when Shiro’s cock jerks into his touch through the cloth. “Shiro, this is not some Machiavellian blowjob. You’re hot.” “Oh…” Keith sees the way Shiro shrugs, the telegraphed motion of his missing limb, the ducking of his head as he shakes the floof of starlit hair over his face. “Really?” Keith wants to maim whoever made Shiro ever feel like he was anything less than perfect. The man underneath him is a deity, and he deserves to be treated like one. “You’re fucking beautiful. You own a mirror, right?” He sees the flickering hesitation in Shiro’s eyes. “Never mind, don’t answer that.” Keith will prove to Shiro how perfect he is if it’s the last thing he ever does. He slides down Shiro’s body, takes his hand, and weaves it into his own ink-dark hair. “Just, let me.” He flicks his eyes up to Shiro’s. “Please?” Shiro’s eyes are huge, and the colour is high on his cheeks as he nods. He still looks a little bit like he can’t believe this is actually happening, but he also doesn’t remove his hand from Keith’s hair as Keith pushes up his shirt and hooks his thumbs into the waistband of Shiro’s joggers. Shiro’s abs jump, pulse speeding up under Keith’s touch, and Keith can’t help but grin as he presses a soft kiss beside the neatly trimmed treasure trail which vanishes into Shiro’s underwear. The hair here is black as his eyelashes, and the scent Keith inhales is some combination of clean cotton, jasmine, and white clay which he wants to bottle and keep with him to huff in secret. Keith draws Shiro’s clothes off him all at once, the tight band of boxers and joggers trapping his thick thighs, and Shiro’s cock practically slaps him across the face as it springs back up to rest over his belly. Keith lets out an involuntary noise of need and desire, his eyes widening as he takes in the thick, flushed length in front of him. Shiro’s cock is a thing of beauty, but Keith is far too eager to taste it to spend hours just staring. He wraps a hand around the base – and fuck, his thumb and forefinger barely meet around the girth of it – and braces his other hand over Shiro’s hip and navel as he angles Shiro’s cock towards his mouth. Keith licks his lips once, being sure to get the corners, presses a wet kiss to the tip of Shiro’s cock, and then sinks down in one movement until Shiro is pressing against his throat. Keith groans, and swallows around him. “OH FUCK-!” Shiro spasms involuntarily, bucking still deeper into his throat as his long fingers clench reflexively in Keith’s hair. Keith moans, eyes fluttering closed with the heady sensation of being filled and tugged by the roots, and nuzzles into the soft hair of Shiro’s crotch. “AHHH! Nnngggh-!” Keith doesn’t waste energy bobbing up and down, but simply continues to swallow around the hot, hard muscle in his throat, moulding his tongue to the underside of Shiro’s cock as he locks his lips tight around the base of the shaft. He keeps it up until he’s slightly dizzy from lack of oxygen, and pulls back just far enough to have his airway become functional once more. Instantly Keith’s mouth is flooded with the sweet tang of Shiro’s precome, and he hums in delight. “Fuck… fuck, Keith…” A quick glance upward shows that Shiro looks as wrecked as he sounds, mouth wet as he pants, eyes blown wide. Keith smiles in his head – his lips are currently otherwise occupied. He wastes no time in drawing in a deep lungful of sweet oxygen and sweeter eau du Shiro, before he leans in and closes his throat tightly around Shiro’s cock once more. Shiro’s grip in his hair borders on painful and Keith doubles down and sinks himself even further onto Shiro’s cock until his whole face is pressed flush to the man’s belly. He can feel Shiro’s pulse against his tongue and the desperate hitch of his breath under his cheek. It’s so fucking sexy, Keith’s sure he could come again just from that. Shiro gasps his name, the first syllable a desperate whine. Just when Keith thinks Shiro is going to pull him off, the pressure on the back of his head changes and Shiro fucks into his throat and comes hard. “Fuck. Yessssss…” Keith does not splutter, but it’s a close thing as he begins to swallow around the pulsing weight opening his throat. Shiro keeps him pinned there the whole time he comes, and Keith feels his spine melt with the pressure and pleasure of being exactly where his partner wants him. When Shiro’s hand unclenches, Keith waits another few moments, and then pulls off slowly. The last thing he wants Shiro thinking is that he forced Keith to do anything. Keith inhales whilst he laps at the sensitive tip of Shiro cock; he wasn’t even close to tapping out. Eventually he lets Shiro’s cock slip fully from his mouth, swallowing freely for the first time, then wipes his mouth with his knuckles before he places a kiss at the base of his shaft. Shiro shudders with oversensitivity. “Oh my god…” Shiro sounds dazed, lost, and like Keith might have accidentally sucked out his soul. “You really just… I mean… wow.” “No gag reflex,” Keith says with a smirk, and has the pleasure of watching Shiro blush really hard. It’s so cute. “I love the way you look at me.” “Oh, Keith…” Shiro says his name like Keith is special and important and somebody worth knowing, and Keith can’t help but warm to the sound. He folds an arm over Shiro’s abdomen, and reaches out to lace the fingers of his other hand with Shiro’s. The sculptor squeezes him tight, and Keith practically purrs with the warmth of the gesture. Shiro gazes down at him, and even now – with his breath uneven and his chest sheened with sweat – his expression is just as intense, just as reverential, and Keith knows he is hooked. He smiles back, content to simply lay between Shiro’s legs and rub little circles with his thumb on the soft skin on the back of Shiro’s hand. And then his stomach rumbles. “I-” he begins, only to be interrupted by the noise a second, louder time. “Sorry.” Shiro looks amused, his eyes shining with mirth. “Well, I did promise to feed you,” he says with a soft chuckle. “I’m hardly a stray cat, Shiro,” Keith pouts. “It was mostly an excuse to get you to agree to let me come model for you.” Before Shiro can say anything in response, Keith’s stomach grumbles unhappily again. “Poor baby.” Again, Keith has the feeling Shiro is talking to parts of his body, rather than him. “Orgasms make you hungry?” Keith presses his face into Shiro’s abdomen as he blushes. He’s sure Shiro is smiling more just from the soft noise he makes. When Keith risks meeting Shiro’s grey eyes again, the man looks content, blissful. It’s such a good look on him. “I mean- I wasn’t exactly expecting this to go in a romantic direction but...” And just there is the little hitch of Shiro’s breath, a quiver of his belly against Keith’s cheek and a look of hope in his eyes. Keith beams. “...Are you still going to feed me dinner?” Shiro’s smile broadens, and in one movement, he has hauled Keith up by their joined hands until Keith is lying full out on his chest. Keith gasps in surprise and delight, and swallows whatever Shiro was going to say next in kisses. When they break for air, Shiro’s smile is soft and sweet, and he drags his fingers through Keith’s hair, pushing his bangs back from his face. “I’d like to take you for dinner and breakfast.” Keith beams. “It’s a date.”

Keith likes being a life model - it pays well and it gives him time to think - but when a new artist joins one of the evening classes he works for, Keith cannot help but want to stare back. He is captivated by the handsome man who moulds clay with his one hand, and Keith wants to be moulded too.

everyone tastes good all over in fiction.