[ fuck. eloquent, he knows, but that’s the go-to expletive to encompass the moment. it’s the only workable one, because holy shit, keith is so goddamn responsive. shiro touches keith’s hip and keith flutters, the muscles of his ass clenching around his dick, kneading him, teasing him, silently giving him all the reason to hurry up. shiro chokes on breath and goes still, shoulders slightly rounded as he braces through the tight, too tight hold of keith bearing down on him. but then, just as quickly, keith relaxes and shiro shudders through the rest of his inhale, desperately trying to piece together the fracture of his composure.

keith is kind – or he simply can’t see beyond his own desperation to remain calm – and doesn’t breathe a word about the blip in shiro’s composure. instead, all keith does is smile shy and draw lines, doing with his hands the equivalent of bashfully toeing the ground. he’s cute. so very cute. and it's laughable, really, because how can shiro be mentally cooing over how sweet-faced his best friend is when said best friend is sitting on his cock, ass warm and tight enough to coax his body into a quickened turnaround? every time keith so much as breathes, shiro can feel him: in his lap and on his cock, every tiny movement working him over. he twitches again and thickens slow, keith’s blurted words hanging between them for one, two –

fuck, he thinks again. ]

So much.

[ two, simple words, yet somehow, shiro heaves through them. it’s embarrassing how strained thin his voice is; too breathy and too earnest, like it would physically pain him if he held onto those words any longer. the truth of the matter is that it would; pain him, that is. shiro is not a simple man… but he is in this one aspect: joy comes to him very easily when he’s allowed a moment to tell keith just how wonderful he is. how valued he is. how incredibly proud he makes shiro every day. keith’s come a long way from the bruise-knuckled kid of years ago, and while he’s certain keith would attribute that turnaround to him, shiro gives all the credit to keith’s willingness to listen, grow, and become the man his potential promised him to be. ]

In a hundred different ways… [ at least. he smiles in lieu of giving those words voice, instead leaning in to brush a kiss to one of those rosy-cheeks. ] There’s no one who’s made me prouder.

[ that’s the sugar-honey, sweetheart response that is deserving of a pause. but shiro doesn’t pause. shiro noses along that flushed cheek and huffs breath at keith’s ear, the hand at his hip sliding over keith’s curves to cup at his ass cheek. ]

Like now. [ he’s proud. so very proud. ] You’re keeping me so warm and so wet inside you, patiently waiting for your fucking.

[ flexing his own ass to add some upward pressure of his hips, shiro once more tests the fit of their bodies. the softness of his cock hasn’t filled out, but he’s plumper, enough to be encouraging to the idea that the rest of the wait may not be too terribly long. before, shiro had thought stroking keith off would be a nice way to pass the time; he hasn’t given up on that idea, but he’s yet to move his metal hand in between their bodies. instead, his focus is on inching his fingers toward the crease of keith’s ass, not at all shy about finding whatever slick there is to be scooped up, slathering his fingers with it. ]

You’re such a good boy. [ a beat. a huff. an audible smile. ] My good boy.

[ he may not be able to deliver on cock fucking, but he can with finger fucking, which he does by pulling at keith’s rim with his slicked index finger, fitting it in alongside his cock, just to give keith that fuller feeling. ]

Say it for me.