[ fuck, that doesn’t sound right at all. it’s just me then. it truly is a depressing thought to realize that he is completely out of depth with keith. when did he become so shit at this? didn’t he used to be able to nip insecurity in the bud and stop the hemorrhaging of self-loathing and misery? earnest reassurances didn’t work. deliberately light teasing didn’t work. raw vulnerability and spilling the contents of his heart didn’t work. is there a way to set this right? or is it so far beyond salvaging that shiro can do little more than spinning his tires?
keith’s breath plays against his skin and for a moment, shiro’s mind goes blank, hairs rising on the verge of a shiver –
just me holding onto something you’re not even mad at me for.
– and then he forgets how to breathe. not from anticipation, not from pleasure; that tantalizing tease of whispered breath is bulldozed over by a sickening drop in the pit of his stomach. oh. oh. it truly is about that. are they ever going to get past that?
shiro doesn’t fight keith as he loosens his arms. he should, maybe, but he’s careful with keith to the point of defeat, left hand lifting off of keith’s so he can take it back if he wishes to. with both hands now empty, shiro places them on his thighs and grimaces through that agitated, lost feeling as he listens, processes, and listens some more. it’s all a bit jumbled. he’s trying to follow the links between keith’s points, only to conclude that the underlying message here is: first times and meaningful connections.
at least, he isn’t throwing around rape again. the inner confines of shiro’s chest curdles at the very memory.
and so, it takes him a moment. then two, three, closer to ten. he wets his lips and thinks, hoping for a solution, but not entirely confident that he knows how to find one anymore. in the end, he keeps his back to keith and looks to his lap, fingers pressing into the firmness of his quads. ]
You know… we had a do over of our first time together.
[ he turns his head just slightly, still not looking over his shoulder, but speaking more directly to keith. ]
I don’t see why we can’t have another one.
[ to make it more meaningful? to make keith less punishing to himself? would that help? ]
kosmo better eat faster then
keith’s breath plays against his skin and for a moment, shiro’s mind goes blank, hairs rising on the verge of a shiver –
just me holding onto something you’re not even mad at me for.
– and then he forgets how to breathe. not from anticipation, not from pleasure; that tantalizing tease of whispered breath is bulldozed over by a sickening drop in the pit of his stomach. oh. oh. it truly is about that. are they ever going to get past that?
shiro doesn’t fight keith as he loosens his arms. he should, maybe, but he’s careful with keith to the point of defeat, left hand lifting off of keith’s so he can take it back if he wishes to. with both hands now empty, shiro places them on his thighs and grimaces through that agitated, lost feeling as he listens, processes, and listens some more. it’s all a bit jumbled. he’s trying to follow the links between keith’s points, only to conclude that the underlying message here is: first times and meaningful connections.
at least, he isn’t throwing around rape again. the inner confines of shiro’s chest curdles at the very memory.
and so, it takes him a moment. then two, three, closer to ten. he wets his lips and thinks, hoping for a solution, but not entirely confident that he knows how to find one anymore. in the end, he keeps his back to keith and looks to his lap, fingers pressing into the firmness of his quads. ]
You know… we had a do over of our first time together.
[ he turns his head just slightly, still not looking over his shoulder, but speaking more directly to keith. ]
I don’t see why we can’t have another one.
[ to make it more meaningful? to make keith less punishing to himself? would that help? ]