[ oh, he likes that, doesn’t he? with his head laid on his thigh, shiro feels the pleased shudder going through this boy, as well as sees the twitch of that pretty cock. the pretty cock that keith is denying him, that is. initially, in that one-beat pause in-between words, shiro hears i can’t and feels something clench in the pit of his chest. one second and there’s a rush of disappointment, concern, confusion… but keith’s still talking, still explaining, and while the rest of it shouldn’t make a whole lot of sense, it does clear things up enough that shiro relaxes with slow-forming understanding.
over already…? keith thinks if he cums it’ll be over…?
shiro’s eyebrows draw in, forming a wrinkled knot, but keith is reaching for him and that’s all it takes for shiro to lift up, tilting his head into those fingers so keith doesn’t have to fight too far in his reach. now, he knows in some backwards way, keith is inexperienced with intimacy. but where in the world did he get the misconception that sex is a one-off game? they don’t talk about their sheet check-offs. shiro would think, maybe, that’s where; maybe keith only does enough to finish a requirement and then gets the hell out. but why would he associate the equivalent of a job or a punishment with shiro? because of anonymous?
… ah. this is because of anonymous, isn’t it?
it has to be, because shiro knows for certain that keith is capable of coming multiple times, even if that particular time has been heavily influenced. point is, shiro doubts this is a physical limitation. it’s simply a self-imposed limitation; one that shiro ought to correct quickly.
so, the knot relaxes and the exasperated fondness of his smile returns, the whole of him lifting as he gets himself up by the palms of his hands. ]
Who says it’ll be over? [ they have all night. they don’t have to be anywhere else. they don’t have to pretend to be anyone else, either. there is no fear of getting caught or cornered. so – ]
I know you have more than one orgasm in you. [ higher now, shiro crawls up keith’s body to hover over the stretch of him. he doesn’t bend down to kiss his mouth, but he does so to brush a sweet little thing to his cheek, the chasteness of it in stark contrast to: ]
I’m gonna wring every last drop from you… if you’d just let me. [ brat. and he does laugh at that; a brief, breathy thing against his cheek, lips still curled in a smile. ]
How can one comment box hold so much curse
over already…? keith thinks if he cums it’ll be over…?
shiro’s eyebrows draw in, forming a wrinkled knot, but keith is reaching for him and that’s all it takes for shiro to lift up, tilting his head into those fingers so keith doesn’t have to fight too far in his reach. now, he knows in some backwards way, keith is inexperienced with intimacy. but where in the world did he get the misconception that sex is a one-off game? they don’t talk about their sheet check-offs. shiro would think, maybe, that’s where; maybe keith only does enough to finish a requirement and then gets the hell out. but why would he associate the equivalent of a job or a punishment with shiro? because of anonymous?
… ah. this is because of anonymous, isn’t it?
it has to be, because shiro knows for certain that keith is capable of coming multiple times, even if that particular time has been heavily influenced. point is, shiro doubts this is a physical limitation. it’s simply a self-imposed limitation; one that shiro ought to correct quickly.
so, the knot relaxes and the exasperated fondness of his smile returns, the whole of him lifting as he gets himself up by the palms of his hands. ]
Who says it’ll be over? [ they have all night. they don’t have to be anywhere else. they don’t have to pretend to be anyone else, either. there is no fear of getting caught or cornered. so – ]
I know you have more than one orgasm in you. [ higher now, shiro crawls up keith’s body to hover over the stretch of him. he doesn’t bend down to kiss his mouth, but he does so to brush a sweet little thing to his cheek, the chasteness of it in stark contrast to: ]
I’m gonna wring every last drop from you… if you’d just let me. [ brat. and he does laugh at that; a brief, breathy thing against his cheek, lips still curled in a smile. ]