[ what is that? a circle -- a ball -- no, that’s some kind of fruit. a melon? a melon. his breath comes stumbling out on a laugh as his mind -- unhelpfully -- supplies melon on my melon. is that supposed to mean something? is keith trying to convey a message here? he stems the laughter with a gentle chew of his inner, bottom lip and thinks no, of course not. it’s just a dumb drawing.
… a dumb drawing that he wants more of and wants to return in full.
his antsy with the desire to get more lines on keith and as keith works on the crisscrosses on the melon, shiro looks keith up and down unabashedly, eagering tossing around ideas of where he wants to mark and how he wants to mark. he’s interrupted before he can put any solid ideas into action with keith finishing up and saying how he needs to settle into acceptance for how his body currently is. he wrinkles his brow, immediately finding the idea distasteful. there’s nothing about keith’s appearance that warrants settling. he doesn’t need to look like shiro in any capacity. in fact, shiro likes that keith’s body isn’t bulked up and big. there’s elegance in the leanness of his form and an athleticness that’s more functional, more desirable in movement, the compact cut of muscle not overwhelmingly obnoxious.
he almost says as much but keith gives him a gentle push and shiro does as requested: he puts his back to the ground. it’s just enough of a delay that it has him hesitating on what was so vehement a moment ago. if keith wants to build up his body, good on him. shiro’s opinion that he’s already pretty is neither helpful nor appropriate. especially not helpful right now when keith is hovering by, running the tip of his finger down and through his ridges of muscle. he feels a twitch and thinks shit; focusing on the leaves and twigs digging into his back becomes more pivotal in the next moment.
keith tugging at his pants does not help either. or actually -- it does. because it’s paired with a promise of more drawings and shiro gets caught up in the image of red lines all over his legs. it’s distracting. it’s centering. it has him breathing out: ]
Yeah? [ there’s little time to even consider this being a bad idea when his hands at at his button a moment later. through the loop and fingers now drawing down the zipper, he briefly catches up enough to think what are we doing before it’s shoved aside, similarly to how he shoves the pants down his lifted hips. some wriggling around results in him freeing one leg and then using it to kick the pants off the other. he resettling fully on the ground and sighs, smiling with a giddy kind of energy.
so keith wants to draw more, right? ] I’ve got big thighs. [ and now the smile curls slyly as he draws one leg up and bends it out, opening up the smoother, wider drawing canvas of his inner thigh. ] How’s this for a drawing area? [ he’ll make it even bigger too, by hooking his fingers at the hem of his boxer-briefs and snap the elastic higher. ]
that's prolly a mistake.
… a dumb drawing that he wants more of and wants to return in full.
his antsy with the desire to get more lines on keith and as keith works on the crisscrosses on the melon, shiro looks keith up and down unabashedly, eagering tossing around ideas of where he wants to mark and how he wants to mark. he’s interrupted before he can put any solid ideas into action with keith finishing up and saying how he needs to settle into acceptance for how his body currently is. he wrinkles his brow, immediately finding the idea distasteful. there’s nothing about keith’s appearance that warrants settling. he doesn’t need to look like shiro in any capacity. in fact, shiro likes that keith’s body isn’t bulked up and big. there’s elegance in the leanness of his form and an athleticness that’s more functional, more desirable in movement, the compact cut of muscle not overwhelmingly obnoxious.
he almost says as much but keith gives him a gentle push and shiro does as requested: he puts his back to the ground. it’s just enough of a delay that it has him hesitating on what was so vehement a moment ago. if keith wants to build up his body, good on him. shiro’s opinion that he’s already pretty is neither helpful nor appropriate. especially not helpful right now when keith is hovering by, running the tip of his finger down and through his ridges of muscle. he feels a twitch and thinks shit; focusing on the leaves and twigs digging into his back becomes more pivotal in the next moment.
keith tugging at his pants does not help either. or actually -- it does. because it’s paired with a promise of more drawings and shiro gets caught up in the image of red lines all over his legs. it’s distracting. it’s centering. it has him breathing out: ]
Yeah? [ there’s little time to even consider this being a bad idea when his hands at at his button a moment later. through the loop and fingers now drawing down the zipper, he briefly catches up enough to think what are we doing before it’s shoved aside, similarly to how he shoves the pants down his lifted hips. some wriggling around results in him freeing one leg and then using it to kick the pants off the other. he resettling fully on the ground and sighs, smiling with a giddy kind of energy.
so keith wants to draw more, right? ] I’ve got big thighs. [ and now the smile curls slyly as he draws one leg up and bends it out, opening up the smoother, wider drawing canvas of his inner thigh. ] How’s this for a drawing area? [ he’ll make it even bigger too, by hooking his fingers at the hem of his boxer-briefs and snap the elastic higher. ]