[ it’s been a rough week. shiro isn’t the type to believe in an arbitrary cut-off for a recurring time table, as though one bad week will be put behind him if he waits it out from saturday to sunday, with a fresh week starting anew with blank pages and an absence of all his prior mistakes. he’s put himself in this mess and until he cleans it up, it’s going to be bad week after bad week, because nothing feels right when he’s meant to exist with an empty, keith-shaped spot beside him.
he’s seen keith, of course, but that’s the extent of it. no shared laughter, no secretive smiles, no kissing, no holding, no fucking… – there’s an awkwardness between them now, one that doesn’t pit them as strangers to one another like a break-up would, but something edging ever closer to that. it’s bringing up some sour memories. this isn’t like his break-up to adam. it’s not a break-up at all; they’re fine. but shiro does remember that ever present, anxious feeling whenever he left his newly moved into, garrison provided single-dwelling. part worried, part annoyed at the never-ending chance of running across his ex-fiancé in the halls, the cafeteria, the officer lounge.
it’s not like that with keith, he reminds himself. the stark difference here is that he wants to see keith, even though every interaction of the past week has left him hollowed out and guilty, continually at a loss of how to rectify the misunderstanding between them. the problem here is that although he does recognize that he misspoke in an explanation that didn’t explain anything at all – we weren’t ourselves, keith – there’s also a part of him that stubbornly resists any obligation to explain himself. or god forbid, apologize.
… but hell, retiring every night to this bed that is far too large now, has weakened that resistance. he’s spent more of his life sleeping alone than he has sleeping with someone beside him, so theoretically, he should be better suited to sleeping alone. he’s not. it’s always particularly difficult to relearn how to sleep alone. frankly, he doesn’t want to relearn how to do that, because there are no words to adequately describe how wonderful it is to open his eyes each morning and find his best friend snuggled against him.
he can’t endure another morning without that. he can’t toss and turn through an entire night again, either.
if he showed up at keith’s cube right now, just as he is – empty-handed and a touch droopy-eyed from another horrid night – keith would likely accept him anyway. but shiro increases his odds by first taking a shower and then heading off to the dining hall to get some food in him. though his brain tells him he doesn’t have much of an appetite, his stomach disagrees. loudly. so he goes and he gets, settling on something quick by raiding the pastries. he specifically pilfers away a few extra, thinking that a peace offering of sugary sweetness can only help his chances of getting in the door.
turns out he’s wrong, because he never gets to keith’s cube.
see, he saw the broadcast this morning. it was concerning, of course, especially the lack of details of what is deemed punishable, but having dealt with confusing, not at all reliable rules on what these aliens deem enforceable, shiro’s decided that setting things right with keith takes far more precedence than doing the prudent thing of hunkering down in his cube.
it’s a mistake.
apparently, walking out of dining with extra food is now considered an offense. hoarder, greedy, taking more than his fair share… the sentries are not having it. and so shiro lets them lead him away. anxious, but assuming it will be little more than an inconvenience of time and a slap on the wrist, shiro cooperates all the way to some new structure that is still in the process of being built. everything after that is a whirlwind of escalating atrocities.
he probably shouldn’t have busted that first sentry that tried to rough him around into following the command of full-body stripping. the remaining sentries – and a few more that appear from somewhere – are on him shortly after that, jabbing him with something that makes everything foggy and rather pleasant after that. neutralized by a drug that makes him compliant and absent of inhibitors, shiro winds up naked shortly thereafter.
because they clap a collar on him, fasten belted ropes around him, and hook up… a contraption. if he’s so greedy for second and third helpings, then he should make no protests to whoever decides to unzip and cum dump in the funnel, right? either way, shiro’s too warm, too antsy, and too out of it to care, his muffled noises accentuated by the funnel. ]
( ooc: so the fanart but without the panties and the funnel connection is shorter? I DON'T KNOW IF THAT'S WHAT THIS FANART IS SUPPOSED TO BE but let's go with that. fanart by BlopNSFW @ twitter )
JUNE EVENT; cw: linked fanart is racy bondage??
he’s seen keith, of course, but that’s the extent of it. no shared laughter, no secretive smiles, no kissing, no holding, no fucking… – there’s an awkwardness between them now, one that doesn’t pit them as strangers to one another like a break-up would, but something edging ever closer to that. it’s bringing up some sour memories. this isn’t like his break-up to adam. it’s not a break-up at all; they’re fine. but shiro does remember that ever present, anxious feeling whenever he left his newly moved into, garrison provided single-dwelling. part worried, part annoyed at the never-ending chance of running across his ex-fiancé in the halls, the cafeteria, the officer lounge.
it’s not like that with keith, he reminds himself. the stark difference here is that he wants to see keith, even though every interaction of the past week has left him hollowed out and guilty, continually at a loss of how to rectify the misunderstanding between them. the problem here is that although he does recognize that he misspoke in an explanation that didn’t explain anything at all – we weren’t ourselves, keith – there’s also a part of him that stubbornly resists any obligation to explain himself. or god forbid, apologize.
… but hell, retiring every night to this bed that is far too large now, has weakened that resistance. he’s spent more of his life sleeping alone than he has sleeping with someone beside him, so theoretically, he should be better suited to sleeping alone. he’s not. it’s always particularly difficult to relearn how to sleep alone. frankly, he doesn’t want to relearn how to do that, because there are no words to adequately describe how wonderful it is to open his eyes each morning and find his best friend snuggled against him.
he can’t endure another morning without that. he can’t toss and turn through an entire night again, either.
if he showed up at keith’s cube right now, just as he is – empty-handed and a touch droopy-eyed from another horrid night – keith would likely accept him anyway. but shiro increases his odds by first taking a shower and then heading off to the dining hall to get some food in him. though his brain tells him he doesn’t have much of an appetite, his stomach disagrees. loudly. so he goes and he gets, settling on something quick by raiding the pastries. he specifically pilfers away a few extra, thinking that a peace offering of sugary sweetness can only help his chances of getting in the door.
turns out he’s wrong, because he never gets to keith’s cube.
see, he saw the broadcast this morning. it was concerning, of course, especially the lack of details of what is deemed punishable, but having dealt with confusing, not at all reliable rules on what these aliens deem enforceable, shiro’s decided that setting things right with keith takes far more precedence than doing the prudent thing of hunkering down in his cube.
it’s a mistake.
apparently, walking out of dining with extra food is now considered an offense. hoarder, greedy, taking more than his fair share… the sentries are not having it. and so shiro lets them lead him away. anxious, but assuming it will be little more than an inconvenience of time and a slap on the wrist, shiro cooperates all the way to some new structure that is still in the process of being built. everything after that is a whirlwind of escalating atrocities.
he probably shouldn’t have busted that first sentry that tried to rough him around into following the command of full-body stripping. the remaining sentries – and a few more that appear from somewhere – are on him shortly after that, jabbing him with something that makes everything foggy and rather pleasant after that. neutralized by a drug that makes him compliant and absent of inhibitors, shiro winds up naked shortly thereafter.
mostly.
because they clap a collar on him, fasten belted ropes around him, and hook up… a contraption. if he’s so greedy for second and third helpings, then he should make no protests to whoever decides to unzip and cum dump in the funnel, right? either way, shiro’s too warm, too antsy, and too out of it to care, his muffled noises accentuated by the funnel. ]
( ooc: so the fanart but without the panties and the funnel connection is shorter? I DON'T KNOW IF THAT'S WHAT THIS FANART IS SUPPOSED TO BE but let's go with that. fanart by BlopNSFW @ twitter )