takashi shirogane (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
earthshine) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
apocalypsehowcomm2021-08-05 03:34 pm
earthshine) wrote in apocalypsehowcomm2021-08-05 03:34 pm
Entry tags:
[ closed ]
Who: shiro + keith
When: perm log for these idiots
Where: all over
Summary: say, say o playmate from the august tdm. the butcher's camp from the september tdm. quarter pounder from the september event. keith's birthday. hermy the wormy from the december tdm. in the hive from the december event.new year, new you from the january tdm. end of january, references january event.
Warnings:
say, o say o playmate: hallucination, blood, ritualistic sacrifice, claustrophobia.
the butcher's camp: animal death, animal mutilation, both human and animal butchery, implied cannibalism, stripping ( nsfw ).
quarter pounder: blood, animal attack, consumption of human flesh, violence, gore, body horror, potential for severe injury, including puncture wounds and broken bones, potential for choking, potential for animal death.
keith's birthday: boys being stupid.
hermy the wormy: worms, decay, altered mental states/compulsion, emotional corruption, potential for violence, body mutilation, attempted murder.
in the hive: insects/swarms, bites, vomiting, body horror, death ( npcs ), mental and physical trauma
new year, new you: self-doubt, body dysmorphia trauma, cringe talk about sex safety, hook-up culture, body modification ( steroid and synthol oil use ), mention of drug use
end of january: implied animal death, self-doubt, body image issues, body dysmorphia, self-harm, body mutilation, skin burning, drug use mention ( tren steroid ), implied extreme dieting ( starvation & dehydration ), nsfw ( heavy petting and nudity ). reference to shiro's scars.
When: perm log for these idiots
Where: all over
Summary: say, say o playmate from the august tdm. the butcher's camp from the september tdm. quarter pounder from the september event. keith's birthday. hermy the wormy from the december tdm. in the hive from the december event.new year, new you from the january tdm. end of january, references january event.
Warnings:
say, o say o playmate: hallucination, blood, ritualistic sacrifice, claustrophobia.
the butcher's camp: animal death, animal mutilation, both human and animal butchery, implied cannibalism, stripping ( nsfw ).
quarter pounder: blood, animal attack, consumption of human flesh, violence, gore, body horror, potential for severe injury, including puncture wounds and broken bones, potential for choking, potential for animal death.
keith's birthday: boys being stupid.
hermy the wormy: worms, decay, altered mental states/compulsion, emotional corruption, potential for violence, body mutilation, attempted murder.
in the hive: insects/swarms, bites, vomiting, body horror, death ( npcs ), mental and physical trauma
new year, new you: self-doubt, body dysmorphia trauma, cringe talk about sex safety, hook-up culture, body modification ( steroid and synthol oil use ), mention of drug use
end of january: implied animal death, self-doubt, body image issues, body dysmorphia, self-harm, body mutilation, skin burning, drug use mention ( tren steroid ), implied extreme dieting ( starvation & dehydration ), nsfw ( heavy petting and nudity ). reference to shiro's scars.
no subject
griffin should’ve fit the slot for his mentee. on paper he had the grades. his flying was good and only improving. he was another straight-lace, no nonsense, golden boy in the making and yet… shiro saddled himself with some ragamuffin, desert rat.
he huffs with a laugh and smiles’; one edge pulls hard to the side, dimpling that cheek and his brows draw together, high and knitted. it gives him a softer, boyish flare. altogether, he looks -- amused. ]
No, you’re right. [ he’s taps the capped end of his pen against his opposite wrist and pretends to assess keith. ] You pass better as a Shirogane than a McClain.
[ nothing strange in that statement, just another bout of teasing in this recurring name debacle. yet, it has his mind attaching shirogane to keith and… huh, perhaps this name game has run its course. he gives his throat a shallow clearing and raps his wrist one last time before gesturing the pen out and at keith. ]
So, hey -- do I get to draw on you too?
no subject
Uh-huh. What does that even mean? Passing as a Shirogane, I mean.
[ asked as he extends his left arm over to shiro to use as his canvas. go ahead, big guy. go ham and draw all over that. or well: ]
Within reason.
[ gotta tack that familiar restriction on. ]
no subject
Oh you know… [ no. he does not know. no one here does. he clears his throat and pops off the pen cap, securing it to the other end. taking keith by the arm and supporting it there in the palm of his left hand, shiro hunches closer to start doodling dead center in his forearm. ]
Shiroganes are great pilots with great hair. [ congratulations keith; this is now on his arm. shiro finishes off with the tail and glances up, mischief in the wide spread of his grin. ] You just barely pass.
no subject
now listen, he'll never in a million years admit to lance's constant mean girling about his apparent mullet actually bothers him, but it's nice to hear something about his hair that isn't being leveraged against him. ]
Heh. [ still smiling down at the hippo on his arm, keith holds onto the not-quite endorsement of his hair and tucks it away. twirling the red paint pen, in his fingers he continues: ] And great artists.
[ overstating it a bit, but that's not the point. ]
Take off your shirt. I want to draw more.
no subject
modesty. heh. that’s a kindness that is only a fraction of the truth.
there’s utter ruin hidden underneath his shirt. the long sleeves he’s taken to are more for the concealment of his galra arm from the public, but they’re just as welcome to covering the nicks along his arms and the hefty scarring at his right bicep. his chest, his stomach, his back, everywhere seems to have a story or two or seven to tell, from the range of scarring left behind. it’s war, he tells himself, neither of them are untouched by it; keith likely has his own scars now too. but most of these came from a time shiro refuses to talk about, both before voltron and one large chunk in his side from the time keith knows nothing about.
he really should keep his shirt on, for both their sakes.
but keith’s twirling his paint pen and looking both happy and determined, something shiro has no strength to squash. he wants that pen on him. he wants keith’s hands on him. he wants -- wait, huh? he doesn’t circle back to that and instead, pushes on, swallowing down the bit of self-consciousness even the delight of drawn lines can’t completely silence. ]
You might be hard pressed to find a good place to draw. [ his smile is apologetic, his expression a little fractured. but he pops the cap back on and then he has the hem in his hands, pulling the shirt up and off in one smooth pull. he balls up his shirt next, just sort of wringing it between his hands before forcing himself to set it to the side. ]
See what I mean? [ the words have that self-deprecating quality to them, even as he continues to force a smile. ]
no subject
of course, it's not purely breathtaking in the most pleasant of ways. there's plenty of scarring on show -- too much of it, actually, that it's hard to know where to set his focus. plenty of different types too, from those with clean margins like ones left behind by a bladed weapon, puncture wounds, burne all the way down to a strangely shaped set of jagged scars that might've been left behind by a mutated jaguar. keith takes a moment to breathe, take it all in and inches closer.
so shiro didn't want him to see this, huh? no wonder. it makes his heart ache just thinking about the kinds of horrors shiro must've endured in that long year of captivity. but strangely enough, that's not where keith's head is at all. it ought to give rise to even further questions, but all he does is smile fondly as he raises the paint pen and presses the tip square on shiro's sternun. ]
Shut up. You're perfect.
[ add that to the list of things to question never, but in the moment it feels unabashedly true. keith drags the pen down, drawing a straight line down tot he end of the xyphoid process and extends the line out, following the line of shiro's ribs on either side. keith doesn't know what that's about -- the picture hasn't formed clearly in his head, even though his hannd moves with purpose. next, he reaches up with his free hand, flattening his palm around a pec, squeezing and making just the subtlest of happy noises as he slowly outlines the bulge of muscle in red. it's a careful, slow labor of love and care, as fingers move gently over scarred tissue to make sure everything is correctly hihglighted. ]
I don't have a body as nice as yours.
[ it's said with a pinch of self deprecation, though the look on keith's face stays focused. he seems to snap out of it a little only when he's done markking up all the lines of shiro's front. what the hell is this even about? confusion threatens to overtake the mood, but it's easier to let himself be soothed over by drawing a quick figure on shiro's left pec. ]
just gonna bs some stuff from the circus
perhaps he’s meant to find offense in this. it could be argued that keith takes the sight of his ruined body too casually, too readily, as though unconcerned for the horror shiro’s been through. but shiro doesn’t see it that way. instead, he thinks keith is brave, being able to stomach it and see beyond it. though, he is a liar. perfect. hardly. and worse, now keith is the self-deprecating one.
shiro tsks and shakes his head, chin dipped down to watch the lines being drawn. ]
You have a very nice body, Keith. [ the words are oddly hushed. shy, almost. keith’s hand is grasping at his pec and shiro doesn’t quite know how to handle that other than to sit through it and endure the warmth that crawls up his neck to the tops of his ears. the finished drawing distracts him, briefly, and he breathes out a barely there laugh to its upside down image.
there’s something to be said about allowing keith to mark up his body. shiro has so many marrs in his skin already and adding to that patchwork with silly, dumb drawings… -- he laughs steadier this time, as he pops off his pen cap. it’s a little like reclaiming his body. for once, he gets to decide what’s seeped into his skin; perhaps not the exact images, but he’s the one entrusting keith to do it and that counts for something. it feels good. it looks good. and he wants more, but only after he gets more lines on keith. ]
You draw more eyes than you think. [ he drags the pen tip along the index finger grasping at his pec and once at the knuckle, he abandons the line to start doodling stars over the back of his hand. ] It was pretty amusing to count how many girls and boys were doing double-takes your way at the circus.
i'm phoning the rp police
A very nice body, uh-huh. Says the guy who has the body that'd put Greek statues to shame. And I didn't notice anyone staring at me, so that doesn't count.
[ obliviousness strikes again, maybe? or maybe shiro's just saying things to be nice. for all keith knows, it could've simply been down to wearing a jacket that'd gotten chewed up at the sleeve. whatever the case is though, keith swallows hard, eyes landing on the cluster of stars shiro is busy drawing on his hand.
funny. and here he was thinking, maybe he needed to stop touching, now that he's done with the final touches on his little mothman. but it'd be rude to try and move his hand off of shiro's pec while it's busy serving as a canvas, right? expression decidedly sheepish, keith goes on also somewhat quietly. ]
...But I have been working out a lot. [ they may not be paladins fighting an intergalactic space war against the galra at the moment, but... ] I don't know what's going to happen, but if there's ever an opening to punch an Entity in the face, I want them to feel it for weeks.
[ joking? maybe? perhaps not. but keith adds more hopefully: ] Wanna see? I'm not as built as you -- [ and here, keith sneaks another stealth squeeze that's purely demonstrative in nature. heh. ] -- but I'm not some string bean cadet either.
this is the ultimate betrayal.
Right. If you say so.
[ consciously aloof, carefully unperturbed, shiro adds a line of dots from the freshly drawn star, pushing with just the slightest bit more than required and feeling the way it nudges keith’s palm a hair closer against his pec. just drawing. just… ensuring the paint seeps in fully. and it does… keith’s talking about working out and entities when shiro finishes that last dot. he flicks his gaze up from his work, giving keith a look: part amused, part contemplative, as though he can’t quite decide whether it’s worth a lecture or not.
there’s only been so much to gather from the ever helpful adi in regards to entities, but despite the confusion, shiro’s fairly certain entities aren’t dealt with via punches to the face. the mood is light though and strangely jovial despite their surroundings, so shiro leans heavily into his amusement and chuckles through. there’s no real thought to the following question. he immediately nods to the offer of seeing keith too, images already unfurling in his mind of more skin, more canvas to divide up with lines and doodles.
string bean cadet though. his breath catches and now it’s not a chuckle, it’s a sharp laugh. ] You were never --! [ stops short, mouth still spread on a grin and: ] On second thought… yeah. You were a tiny thing at one point.
[ it wasn’t that long ago either but it sure feels like a lifetime has passed. he pulls his pen away and softens his expression, teasing: ] Still packed a punch though. Probably could’ve taken on an entity back then too.
listen, we can't have you making shit up in a creative writing hobby
I still think Griffin was faking it.
[ judging from his tone, keith isn't kidding about that. seriously, who goes down like a soggy blanket after one measly right hook? vaguely disgruntled comment made, keith keeps the pen held between his teeth and pulls the hem of his t-shirt up and over his head. he pauses self consciously afterwards, crumpling his shirt nervously in his hands.
not that keith has a particular aversion to people seeing his bare chest or whatever, but it's still the first time he's done so specifcally to be appraised in any way. the feeling of uncertainty is only compounded by the inexplicable desire to be good enough for shiro to want to mark with that pen in his hand. swallowing hard, keith plays to the more cavalier mood by spitting the pen out into his hand, and flexing a toned bicep. ]
Well?
i have done the unthinkable. i accept my punishment.
the memory is shuffled back into the bank and he forgets it again for the time being, instead growing far more interested in the lifting of keith’s shirt. there’s no finesse to it -- why should there be? -- and soon enough, there’s skin, skin, and more skin, pale, yet mostly unblemished. it’s pretty. he’s pretty. and sitting there, eyeing up his best friend while said friend flexes and prompts for a reaction, shiro has a split second of clarity, wondering what it is they’re doing.
you’re pretty. you’re gorgeous. when did you stop being that string bean cadet he recruited and turn into this? the comments pile up in his head and he’s momentarily tongue-tied, settling for a heh and a crooked smile as he reaches to squeeze that pumped up bicep. firm. good muscle development; hell, there’s a lot of that going on. he got a glimpse of this before, when the castleship was on its murder spree, but he didn't notice it then. now, there's time to slow down and... appreciate...? focusing on the striations of muscle very clearly developing bigger and stronger, shiro swallows and then thinks lines. keith already has some naturally occurring in his anatomy, but he’d look better with some thick, black ones too. ]
The working out is paying off. [ hand fallen away from keith’s bicep, he presses it to the ground and leverages to scoot himself even closer. ] You look… [ half a breath pause, teeth briefly, so very briefly biting at his bottom lip. ] -- really good.
[ pretty minimal when it comes to compliments, but the appraising quality of his expression, hopefully, makes up for it. all the while, he has his pen back to keith’s skin and now he’s leaving wonderful art on keith’s pec. ]
/throws away the key to rp jail
but then again, talking about physical appearance is a little more personal than that. it hits him another moment later that you look really good may well and truly be the first time anyone's ever verbalized anything positive about his looks. granted, he doubts shiro would sit there and tell him he looks atrocious, but the look on his best friend's face makes him think the words aren't platitudes either. keith holds onto the thought, smile pulling at the corners of his lips, but finds he doesn't know what he wants to say.
maybe above all else, it's so far removed from the judgment he's used to getting about his temperament or his hair or whatever else that people decide to get on his case for that he can't help quietly basking in the strange sense of ... comfort? acceptance? maybe that's unearned. he does, after all, have some unknown genetic connection to the galra and doesn't know what the fuck that's supposed to mean. ]
Thanks. Menas a lot.
[ mercifully though, the press of pen to his chest that makes keith refocus on the moment. the painted lines are soothing in their own right, like he's closer to being completed in some way, even if that seems a little irrational. but as he watches the mystery animal take form, keith has to laugh. ]
That a wolf? [ the smile only broadens as he touches the tip of its nose. ] Or a coyote?
/rots
Aw, c’mon. You’re telling me you don’t recognize our loud ex-neighbor?
[ annoyingly loud ex-neighbor. inside the very well insulated garrison buildings, he was safe. outside, on nights he dared to sneak up to the roof for some stargazing? it wasn’t uncommon to hear yowling in the distance. truthfully, with everything that’s happened since, he kind of misses it. he isn’t about to get heartsick over fucking coyotes though, so he brushes off memories of a more uncomplicated time and pokes keith’s poking finger with the tip of the paint pen. ]
But fine. I’ll draw something simpler.
[ he grins, head tilted and moves the pen lower to draw a bread bun looking square on keith’s abdominals. and he’s just going to keep adding the same shape, going in with six in mind. ]
..../retrieves the key
[ keith starts, but winds up laughing again. kinda morbid, he supposes, considering there's an eviscerated coyotes carcass just outside the tent, but maybe the reminder of living coyotes and all their eerie howling is a better thought to keep in his head. they are, whether anyone likes it or not, just as much as part of home and the desert as the sand and the cacti.
so maybe keith doesn't have a single fucking clue what he is, or how the hell he came to exist, or who the fuck his mother really is, but for at least one fleeting moment, the gaping holes in his life don't feel so deep when all this shared history exists between him and his best friend. his smile takes on a softer character then, but then shiro's already on the move again with that black paint pen. ]
What are you .... [ keith blinks, then laughs as shiro finishes off his first boxy outline, then the next and so on until there are six and keith looks down at his now unorthodox abs. ] Okay, I can tell even less what this is supposed to be, Shiro.
[ he laughs, giving his red pen a shake before uncapping. ]
Please tell me it's not six lumpy balls. You said you were keeping things appropriate.
....... do you take pity on me?
They’re abs!
[ shiro is still of the mind that keith is -- fine exactly as he is and does not need to make any further, conscious improvements to the figure he cuts now. it’s not as though he’s trying to suggest keith get himself a “lumpy” six-pack. or eight-pack. right, eight, because now he’s tempted to amend his previous goal of six to eight, just to draw further down that flat stomach. maybe even do something as ridiculous as make it ten, though that would require keith to take off his pants so he could get low enough.
mentally repeating keeping things appropriate seems to work in knocking him clear from questionable intent and he huffs, regaining composure as he recaps his pen. ]
Surprised you can’t tell. [ he grins and sits up straighter. ] You have a perfect example right in front of you. Look. [ and then he even going so far as to press a hand to the ground behind him and lean into it, reclining to put his abs on display. he starts tracing the clear cut of muscles with his capped pen, looking all too pleased with himself. ]
They’re practically mirror images.
a little bit perhaps
maybe that's what shiro would like? if their abs really were mirror images? keith glances back down at his own toned stomach and represses a sigh. a little further to go then. brandishing his pen, he grins as he crowds further into shiro's space, not touching, but hovering over shiro's body from the side while he's still leaned back. ]
Not yet, but one day.
[ is that a promise? and if so, why the fuck is he promising that? add that to the bucket list of shit best not questioned. for now, the pen comes down on shiro's other pec. keith continues to speak as he draws. ]
In the meantime, guess I gotta settle a little.
[ with his last touch on the honeydew drawn, keith lifts the pen and places his hand on shiro's abs to give him a light push down onto his back. here is where keith ought to be taking his hand off, and he does... for the most part. with just his index still pressing shiro's skin, he traces out the spaces between muscle definition and guides the pen down with a smile to highlight each abdominal.
and then he comes to a pause to poke shiro's belly button and lower until palm settles on shiro's waistband. there's a wistfulness to his tone when he next speaks as he slips his fingers through a belt loop and tugs low.]
I still want to draw more....
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. ]
i can throw the key away again
No kidding. Better think of something that'll take up all that space.
[ big thighs indeed. one the one hand, this is excellent for reasons keith can't parse out for the most part, but on the other hand the parts that do make sense for reasons suspiciously unrelated to lines and drawings make keith bite the inside of his lip, suddenly a mix of guilty and sheepish. either way though, the concensus is clear: he wants to see all of it. because a body as amazing as shiro's obviously (?) needs to be properly and completely drawn on.
keith swallows, fingers smoothly gliding up the line of shiro's inner thigh to map out his canvas, but this time he tries not to look shiro in the eye. can't look shiro in the eye -- at least, not without feeling warm around the cheeks. swalloowing yet again, keith presses the pen to shiro's thigh and carefully starts to draw out three wuarters of a pupper. ]
Like that.
[ and then he keeps the pen pressed to the border of shiro's boxer briefs and breathes out with a hopeful smile. ]
Gonna need a little more room to finish this little guy off though.
would you come visit me in jail?
quit it. focus. his thoughts are spinning a story that is more fiction than fact. keith is merely mapping out his drawing area now, for a drawing that is so important to both of them that it is beyond shiro’s ability to articulate. why is getting that paint pen on his skin so needed? and why is he still impatiently waiting for the opportunity to turn the tables and have keith stripping down instead? why do they even need to strip down?
because the dog is missing its hindlegs and shiro’s underwear is in the way, that’s why.
it makes sense to him and it really shouldn’t, enough so that he doesn’t immediately say no. he isn’t so far gone that he immediately says yes either. he pushes himself up on his elbows to get a better look at both the drawing and then keith’s downtipped face that’s both flushed and determined not to raise his eyes. for what feels like the first time since this whole thing started -- and most likely is -- shiro looks to the opening of the shelter, again getting one moment of clarity to think this is absurd. the smell of blood permeates the whole camp, animals are shredded to pieces feet away and here they are, proposing shiro to get naked in a poachers tent. a poacher who could come back at any moment.
-- but the drawing. leaving the picture unfinished has his stomach churning and anxiety running throughout. they can’t -- they have to -- he needs the rest of it done. ]
Yeah, okay… [ he sounds like he’s convincing himself as he goes and honestly, it doesn’t take much beyond that. he looks to keith before sitting up fully to get his hands on the waistband of his boxer-briefs. ] Can’t leave the pup without the rest of his body.
[ so, guess he’ll be exposing his own. the underwear comes down and he tosses them onto his discarded pants, wincing only slightly at the press of the forest floor against his skin when he leans back again, supported on one elbow. casually, with the kind of disconnect that is only possible when his mind is steadily repeating red lines, red lines, shiro moves his dick to lie against his other thigh, leaving keith’s drawing space unhampered. ] How’s that?
[ for drawing space, he means. enough room left to finish the pup? ]
i would consider it i suppose. i am a charitable being.
it's rude to stare, keith realizes. but between the sudden hammering in his chest and some horrible curiosity that he hopes shiro can forgive, he stays looking for a beat too long, face warm as slowly the last bits of shiro come into unobscured view. keith swallows, barely managing to keep a woah to himself as shiro tucks his dick out of the way.
get a grip. keith chastises himself immediately, eyes snapping back to the more appropriate (?) inner apex of shiro's thigh. his throats gone dry and suddenly, he doesn't trust himself to swallow or attempt talking. ]
Mm- mhm! [ nodding vigorously to get the point across better, keith presses the pen tip back to the unfinished line of the weiner dog, then draws the rest of its body, its tail following the curve around shiro's thigh. fuck -- is just about the only clear thought going on in keith's head as he moves his hand as steadily as possible, but it's impossible not to brush the side of his hand against more sensitive spots, and somehow it's his own skin that's tingling from the sensitivity. when the drawing is complete, keith's voice comes out pitched a pinch higher. ]
All done. [ shit. finally, he clears his throat and slowly moves his hand away. ] ... Is that good?
[ .... the drawing. he means the drawing, but fuck if he's going to clarify anything while he's feeling flustered. ]
you could also be charitable and let me out.
this time, shiro doesn’t have to prevent an ill-timed laugh; his throat has gone dry and the joke has missed its mark with him, at least in any way that would have him laughing. instead, shiro’s current feeling swings in the other direction and he finds himself increasingly warmer and unsettled. there’s a pen dragging along the skin of his inner thigh and a hand brushing places it really shouldn’t, shiro doesn’t have a tight enough control over himself to feel nothing. what he feels right now is a little fuller under his hand and as keith finishes off the drawing, pulling away, it’s both a blessing and a curse.
he swallows and considers his options. ]
Y--es. [ well he blew that. an awkward pause in the middle of a one-syllable word, that takes talent. he eyes keith’s flushed face and soon decides that’s a bad idea, instead looking down. ] He’s cute. [ the pup. only the pup. now what? there’s an extended pause and shiro taps his pen against the ground, eyes back on keith and more specifically, the inches of skin unmarked. ]
I think… it’s my turn to draw. [ he doesn’t move though. he can’t. moving his hand will be incriminating; reclining here and staring at keith’s naked upper body isn’t helping matters either, which he really ought to examine further, but of course won’t. so the only way to get his pen on keith without embarrassing himself would be: ] Show me your back?
do you really deserve to go scot free tho....
keith swallows, tilting his head back a little further up to look at the ceiling of the poacher's tent. it doesn't actually accomplish much of anything, except to exacerbate the tension in the atmosphere, but somehow it feels a whole lot safer than looking at any part of shiro's very bare body. the more he looks, the more he wants to draw and the more he draws, the more he wants to touch, and the more he touches, the more opinions start to form.
....
okay so maybe all of those processes are happening concurrently and amplifying each other rather than strictly being a byproduct of drawing, but fuck if keith is going to unpack any of that. or give any more space to the awareness of this whole experience being the first time he's ever touched anyone like this and by all accounts this is objectively terrible. surrounded by animal carcasses that've ripped apart and the threat of unknown danger? yeah. messed up time to be feeling warm and bothered.
which is why, of course, keith ought to be saying no to his best friend's suggestion. it'd be the rational thing to do and yet... the thought of shiro drawing black lines over the rest of his body just feels right -- like it's something that has to be done, in much the same way that going out into the desert to find the source of that mysterious energy had been.
so even before keith has started to worry at his lower lip, he knows what his answer is. he gives a nod, then turns around to expose his back to shiro, settling into seiza pose. and while he could leave it at that, after a moment he asks: ]
Like this? Or my whole back?
imo, yes. yes i do.
what does that even mean though? keith is already missing his shirt and looking at him now, the long stretch of skin from the cervical curve down to the lumbar of his spine is on full display. well, almost. the waistband of keith’s pants shield the lower portion of the lumbar and furthermore, the sacral. ass, is the layman’s way of describing the region. does that count as whole back? backside does seem to suggest that it is.
shiro’s already operating on extremely faulty reasoning and with the offer foolishly given, shiro doesn’t have it in him to say no. ] Well. [ a pause and he’s already mentally putting designs to keith’s spine and down, down, all the way down to the dip in his back and then to the swell of his ass. ]
If you wouldn’t mind… [ he’s yet to remove his hand from himself and in fact, he merely lays it over tighter, slowly pushing himself up with his other until he’s sitting upright. ] It would make drawing easier.
[ so yes. yes take off your pants, keith. ]
youre very biased tho
actually taking off his pants though?? keith breathes out, looking down at the button on his jeans. aside from having wants that keith can't wrap his mind around, it would only be fair, right? shiro took off his pants, so maybe this is better thought of as returning the favor. [
Okay.
[ said quietly, more for his own benefit. keith shifts up onto his knees, quickly tugging both pants and boxers down to his thighs in one fluid motion. the weirdness of the moment once again registers as keith settles back down on his calves and the first thing he spots beyond the tent opening is the decapitated turkey. quickly looking back down, he stares at his dick for a moment before deciding maybe he ought to do what shiro had done and cover it with his hand. swallowing nervously, he glances over his shoulder and offers a half smile. ]
Is this good?
[ or would shiro prefer a different position to draw on? ]
no no. i am completely neutral in this regard.
a freckle on his left cheek.
he only has about two seconds of a clear view. keith settles on his calves and the freckle is lost behind keith’s feet. disappointment trips up his mood and momentarily disables his filter, which is why he slips up on a: ]
No. [ it is not good. hearing it himself has his brain coming back online and his expression slacks, gaze snapping up to meet keith’s backward glance. ] I mean… [ he give his bottom lip a tiny gnaw as he draws a deep breath and then he releases it all, the exhale ending in a laugh and a sheepish smile. ]
You have a freckle. Did you know? [ he leans closer and brushes the backs of his fingers to the beginning curve of keith’s left asscheek. he laughs again, albeit softer, and continues on ridiculously: ] It looks lonely all by itself -- I wanna draw it some company.
:/ seems sketch
you distrust me without cause.
can you even say that with a straight face