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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.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

[ so it’s as he feared: keith doesn’t like victory served up on a silver platter. alright. time to reevaluate his game plan. it’s become a bit more difficult in the last few seconds though. thighs now adequately caged and arms pulled back tighter with a lock at the elbows, right, this is a pickle. ]

Okay, Grumpy.

[ he doesn’t have to see keith’s face to know: he’s probably pouting, isn’t he? in contrast, shiro is still very much grinning. ]

No deadfishing, gotcha. [ a beat and going with this fish joke that isn’t a joke at all: ] How about flop-fishing?

[ shying away from the obvious – and perhaps more damaging – yank of his arms to overpower the grip and backswing with an elbow to clear keith off of him, shiro considers the less effective, but annoying wriggle of his hips. twisting and rocking side to side as best he can underneath and against keith, he’s hoping to upset keith’s balance enough to dislodge his holds.

… but get it? see what he did there? he’s flopping and wriggling and moving like a fish out of water. it’s funny. ]

[ what the fuck is flop-fishing? it's barely a beat later, and keith doesn't need to ask. he gets his answer as soon as shiro starts rocking his hips from side to side. it shouldn't be distracting, except of course, it is immensely distracting when a particularly frim grind against his cock jolt.

breath hitching immediately, keith's grip on shiro's arms loosens a pinch as reflex dictate he pull back. another second later, still flustered but unwilling to lose over something this stupid, keith jerks back harder on shiro's arms as he pulls himself up to his knees, keeping his thighs pressed to shiro's while keeping his hips clear of further .... ah.... flop-fishing. ]

What kind of technique is this?

[ cheeks feeling warm, keith chances releasing shiro's left arm, and throws his newly freed arm around shiro's belly to keep those hips a little better under control. ]

[ a ha! it’s working! it’s actually working! keith eases off a portion of his lower half and shiro takes full advantage of that by wriggling and bucking in the newly acquired space. it hurts a bit, honestly, with the increased pull on his arms but if keith thinks that’s going to dissuade shiro, then he’s got another thing coming. ignoring the crick forming in his neck and the tightness in his back being exasperated by locked arms and unnatural movements, shiro grins and huffs and keeps the candy lodged in his cheek as not to accidentally swallow it.

oh. and look at that, he has his arm free.

keith scoops him around the middle and it’s weirdly automatic to arch his lower back, letting his belly rest heavy in that grip as his ass tries to find keith again. to bump him off, of course. ]

The winning kind!

[ two seconds into it and a few twists of his hips, however, and he abruptly changes tactics. his left hand slams to the bedding. his thighs are still being hugged and his belly is currently captive but none of that matters, because shiro has leverage with his arm and all the weight that comes with shoving his upper body back. and over.

over is the damning part. with all the tussling about, they’ve ended close to the foot of the bed and shiro, the ever observant one, is not in this case. the direction he pushes his body in order to roll keith off is toward the end of the bed, so… uh. keith has three options and about a tick to decide: prevent this disaster for the both of them, bail to save himself, or tumble to the floor with shiro. ]

[ that damning grind against his cock is back, and keith is hyperfocused on not trying to accidentally swallow his cactus candy whole in his flustering. he coughs -- splutters really, in the process of both pushing the candy to his cheek and stifling a more incriminating noise.

the winning kind? no -- god, no. at least not fairly. desperate not to incriminate himself any further, keith lets go of shiro just in time for his best friend to roll. legs still tangled, keith yelps, grabbing onto the sheet as the pair of them twist towards the edge of the bed. ]

Shiro, no!

[ but at that point, it's not shiro who is in control. it's kinetic energy, inertia and then gravity as they roll right off the end of the bed and fall. it's not a long drop, but the fall is additionally cushioned by a nice bed of layers of cheese, sauce and dough. it takes keith half a second to even register what the fuck is crushed under half his ass when he leaps up, mortified. ]

Oh no, your deep dish!

[ shiro would like to formally retract his earlier comment. the winning kind. right. more like the disastrous kind. hitting the floor hurts. realizing that keith too is hitting the floor hurts worse. but what pain trumps all? slowly easing into a sitting position, grimacing the whole way through and then looking to keith who leaps up to reveal…

oh no indeed.

shiro glances down then, to the ass flattened pizza. keith took out half of it and the other half is… currently under shiro. ignoring the ache in his shoulder that seems to have taken the brunt of the fall, shiro scoots off the mangled box, barely paying attention to the glob of cheese, meat, and pepperoni now splattered along his hip. the mutilation of that beautiful work of art hurts the most and shiro makes a soft, forlorn sound in the back of his throat.

it’s dead. it’s so dead. so completely squashed that it may as well be a pizza pancake at this point. ]

Shit.

[ does this count as him ruining keith’s birthday? he frowns and glances to keith, looking him over, eventually calming when no visible pain or discomfort is found. at least keith seems okay. once more, he looks to the murdered pizza and… heh, manages a small, barely there laugh. ]

… Good thing I ordered a deep dish, huh? [ smiles along this tentative joke. ] Delicious and full of cushion.

[ there is an inordinate amount of pizza clinging to his pants, but his sphere of concern stops extending towards his own well being the instant shiro makes that forlorn noise. it should be embarrassing then, that keith immediately hunches down to get a look at his best friend's face, arm already outstretched to clasp one shoulder. does he acknowledge the joke? no. instead what comes out of his mouth is a quiet: ]

It's okay, hon- [...eydew? fuck. cutting off mid-word is far from elegant, but that somehow doesn't all that unfitting for the moment. ] You okay? Did the pizza come through for you?

[ asked entirely seriously btw. but next beat the hand travels down shiro's arm towards his hand to help pull him up to his feet. ]

[ keith may have caught himself… but it’s arguably worse that he does. honeydew is embarrassing, yes. out of place, yes. but it’s familiar. there’s an explanation behind it. here, keith cuts off and all that’s left is hon. hon…? did keith just call him hon? slowly, his brain churns through that confusion and as he’s coaxed to his feet by an incessant tug, shiro drags his gaze from the pizza. keith takes his full attention once shiro is on his feet and there, shiro clings to his hand a tick longer than necessary before letting go. ]

Yeah. [ he’s still got that small smile going, trying to keep the mood light. ] In excess.

[ see? his exhale comes in an amused huff and he twists his hips similarly to what got them into this mess to begin with. only once though and he pauses there, looking down at the pizza bits coating one side of his pelvis. he chews at his candy, piercing it in half and then shakes his head, looking back up. ]

How about you? [ and more seriously: ] Did I hurt you?

[ there isn't a single piece of this that he likes. seconds ago, they'd been laughing and messing around, and now it's all just mess. he looks at shiro's pizza'd pelvis, but rather than finding anything funny about it, he's stuck hearing that sad noise shiro had made. didn't even get to take a bite out of the pizza he wanted to share, huh? all because ... what? keith wanted to wrestle? expression falling, he bites the inside of his lip and instead twists to survey the damage on his own pants. ]

You didn't hurt me at all, I'm fine. [ nose wrinkling, he sighs and pulls the waistband further away from his hips. speaking quietly, and not meeting shiro's gaze at all, he adds: ] Even if you landed on top of me, I'm not made of glass, y'know.

[ it's difficult. perhaps he should be more grateful fo rhe continued level of concern, but keith doesn't want to feel coddled. ]

Honestly? I'm more upset you didn't get to eat the pizza you were excited about. [ he sighs, again, this time a little more audibly. ] Sorry. I'll order you another one.

[ the quiet words, the averted gaze – ah, shiro’s offended him in some small way, hasn’t he? the concerned tightness to shiro’s expression softens and while he doesn’t quite go so far as to adopt a chastised expression, there is a reluctance to him that keeps him from arguing his point. he knows keith isn’t made of glass. he knows keith is strong. all of these reassurances come with a but however, and shiro doubts keith wants any reminder of how it hasn’t been too terribly long since he nearly died. forgive him, but shiro can’t quite get over the memory of keith laid-up in one of those clinic beds, high as a kite and looking so, so small.

shiro won’t handle him with kids gloves forever, he promises. he just needs to put more time behind them.

as for the current time, shiro loathes the dip in mood. it’s his own fault, he realizes, but piling on his own sorry will likely do more harm than good to any potential recovery. giving his candy another chew and swallow, he steps closer and… hip checks keith. yes with his pizza side. they’re both already a mess, what’s a little more?

he grins, hoping to encourage a smile from keith. ]

The pizza was for you. [ dumbie, is graciously left off. what’s all this talk about his deep dish and ordering him another pizza? ] If that’s something you still want for your birthday dinner, we can get another one.

[ we as in shiro. he’ll make it work; what’s fifteen more bucks? surely, adi has some errand he can run tomorrow or the day after to replenish his savings. ]

If we do… [ there’s that mischievous glint in his eyes. ] We should answer the door like this. See what kind of face the delivery guy makes.

[ the hip bonk makes keith take a half step back. next moment, his head's up and he looks at shiro with... not a smile exactly, but something that could tentatively become a smile. ]

Of course I wanna eat pizza with you, deep dish.

[ the words come out a little too earnestly for what amounts to a zero stakes conversation about pizza, but the embarrassment doesn't catch up to keith any time soon. he's entirely sincere in wanting to experience the small things in life that his best friend loves. this reality may not be their earth, but it's the closest they'll have for some time. in some ways, he's reminded a little of the more carefree way they used to hang out around the garrison, chasing after each other in the desert on hoverbikes without dealing with the burden of a space war.

of course, it isn't quite that. at the end of the day, when they go home, they'll be going right back to that war and returning to an earth filled with people that neither of them know how to deel about anymore.

but for now, it's his birthday and keith has the taste of cactus candy on his tongue and pizza on his pants. maybe it's okay to be a little happy about it, huh? expression brightening just a fraction, he returns that hip check. ]

Pie, I mean. [ nope, not letting that go. ] And lisen, if you wanna keep your pants on that long, you go right ahead. I'm taking mine off. [ a beat, then more slyly. ] Though I guess it kinda makes sense that you'd want to stay like this. You and the pie are both pretty cheesy heroes.

[ deep dish. honeydew. hon… which looking back, was probably meant to be honeydew, huh? either way, shiro’s racking up the nicknames. it startles a laugh out of him, almost a hiccup of surprise. deep dish, of all things to be called. keith is sweet-faced and earnest however, and shiro is weak for it. there is no pushback from shiro, just a crooked smile that curls tentatively the longer keith looks up at him like that.

… which is inevitably ruined with a pie. between the hip bump and pie, shiro’s expression slacks and he sputters instead. but keith’s still talking, coaxing shiro to unwillingly forego his grumbling correction to shuffle through an array of thoughts and emotions. very quickly, in fact. pie: grumble pout. taking his pants off: a mental pause, a hard blink and a silent oh. a sly, ridiculous joke that’s right up there with shiro’s particularly brand of humor: fuck, he’s swelling with pride, amusement, glee… – only for the second pie to catch up with him.

he rolls his eyes and exaggerates it with an accompanying upward tilt and lull of his head. ]

Pizza. [ there’s little point in pretending though; he’s grinning wide. he will, however, issue some swift punishment by hooking his arm around keith’s neck and hauling him in close to his chest for a headlock. keith just said he wasn’t made of glass, right? ]

And no way. It’s weird if I do it alone. [ as opposed to standing side by side with someone else with equally soiled pants. look, shiro isn’t taking one-hundred percent of the delivery guy’s judgment. it’s already going to be bad enough if it’s the same dude that was here not twenty minutes ago. so shiro will be joining the pantless party, thank you, after he makes a phone call, that is.

with that in mind, he lets go of keith, snagging that same hand in keith’s hair to give it a one-two, quick ruffling before he goes about pulling out his phone. ]

So do you want the same thing? Or something different? [ he’s already swiping to his call log, finding the pizza joint’s number at the top. he abruptly abandons that though and points the phone at keith, expression stern. ] And don’t say same because you think that’s what I want.

[ in no universe should keith ever be pleased about getting caught in a headlock, but here he is all the same. all he can manage is a barely disgruntled: ]

Hey!

[ before he bursts into laughter and a bit of half hearted wriggle and arm raise maneuver to protect his head. the lock doesn't last long enough to keep retaliation on the table, but it's certainly an option for when tromping around doesn't also carry the risk of one of them literally stepping on an already squashed pizza. he straightens up, wavy bird's nest hair wild for a few seconds before he gives his head a quick shake and bangs mostly fall back into place. ]

So what, you'd actually order anchovies and pineapple toppings if I asked?

[ heavy teasing is heavy here. in truth, he was quite happy with the meat lover's selection and does not actually approve of either of those toppings. ]

[ calling him out; ah, so it’s gonna be like that. keith’s kidding. of course he’s kidding. even so, knowing it’s a joke has no real bearing on shiro’s answer. no matter what, it’d be: ]

Yeah.

[ there are two types of people: those who see pineapple on pizza as sacrilegious and those who don’t care. shiro lands in the second category, though he doesn’t particularly like the topping with a bite of pizza. he’ll pluck off the pineapple wedges and pop them in his mouth though. that’s fine. he figures anchovies could be dealt with the same way, except rather than going into his mouth, they’d go straight into the trash compactor.

still upbeat, still grinning, he turns the phone back toward himself. ] Because… – heh. Don’t make me say it again.

[ it’s your birthday. he's becoming a broken record. ]

....

[ that isn't how shiro was supposed to respond to that, but the underlying sentiment catches keith just off guard enough that he blinks. is it surprising that shiro would get whatever horrible topping combinatiion that keith asked for on account of his birthday? no. not really. but having the tease lobbed right back at him so effortlessly but with dead accuracy right in the heart still stuns keith into silence for a little longer than it should.

all at once, keith offers up a sheepish smile that expands into outright laughter. suffice to say, he's never really known how to handle his own feelings, and rather than throwing out a more genuine i appreciate you, keith ends up throwing out his arm to muss through shiro's floof to get a nibble at some delayed sweet revenge. ]

I liked your meat pie just fine, dd.

[ he retracts his fingers before shiro can grab his hand and takes a step away from the bed and the pizza. turning around, he unbuttons his pants and pulls the zipper down. ]

No pineapple or anchovies.

[ .... just to make sure there won't be any trolling here. ]

[ he has a healthy, near-constant, entirely friendly competitive streak going with keith, so whenever he manages to bypass expectation and catch keith off guard in one of their verbal, play fights, shiro gets a swift boost to his smug bank. usually, he quite literally swells with it, which leads to a smirk and a loud ha sounding off in his brain. here, it’s a little less ha and a lot more oh. keith’s not so difficult to read when he forgets to hide. his face has always been expressive and it’s quite something to watch him go from stunned silence, to a small, sheepish smile, expression delighted as he gives into laughter.

oh, indeed.

but shiro’s rudely knocked out of his… whatever, by a hand in his hair and a new nickname…? or not new new; a nickname for his nickname. it takes him a moment to work through it but he does get that dd equals two d’s which translates to deep dish. ha, so very clever, keith. said boy is out of reach by the time shiro remembers he should be tipping the hair war back in his favor. going after him is out of the question a beat later when shiro realizes he’s unzipping his pants.

when keith said he was going to ditch the pants, shiro didn’t realize he meant dropping them right here, right now. a huge oversight on shiro’s part and a foolish one at that. he stripped out of his shirt a handful of minutes ago, it’s not like this is odd in light of that. it’s only that shiro is promptly reminded that keith is wearing his shirt. one that hangs low. roughly mid-thigh.

… he did say that keith has great legs.

he clears his throat and turns his back to keith. ] Okay. An exact replica of our dearly, departed deep dish. Coming right up.

[ placing the order takes less than thirty seconds. there is a brief didn’t you get your previous order that shiro tries to breeze by quickly. of course he gets the person who takes their job seriously. hanging up, he tosses his cell on the bed and… doesn’t chance a glance at keith just yet, instead stepping over toward his hamper, trying to decide if he should also strip down in the middle of his room. ]

Who won by the way? [ it’s been an age, but he finally, finally chews up the last of his candy and swallows. ]

[ keith shouldn't be snickering while shiro handles the re-order, but he can't help the pinch of schadenfreude over the pizza place giving shiro some harmless grief. careful to try and minimize collateral pizza damage, keith pulls the baggy shirt halfway up his back before pulling his jeans down his hips and wiggling his legs free one at a time. the red boxers he's wearing are briefly visible before keith lets the baggy shirt flop down.

who won? keith huffs in amusement as he bends low to scoop his pants off the floor and turns around, looking triumphant. ]

I won, obviously. Because -- [ and here's shiro's apparently infallible logic for the day. ] It's my birthday.

[ grinning wide, keith pauses to take his phone out of his pocket before turning the pants over to assess the splatter on the back. it is, to nobody's surprise, in dire need of a wash to get the tomato sauce and cheese grime off. frowning, keith lifts up the shirt again to get a look at his boxers just to affirm those are still clean before letting his pants fall into the hamper. ]

No objections I take it?

[ tease offered with a hand clapped on shiro's shoulder, he grins yet again.... and then wrinkles his nose when the lift of his arm makes the shirt slip to the other side to bare his other shoulder. maybe he should just ... get changed into his own clothes, huh. [

[ shit. keith’s got him there. modesty forgotten in light of having his words thrown back at him, shiro jerks a glance to keith. nothing too bad. it’s just his best friend standing there, digging through his pants for his phone, shiro’s oversized shirt hanging off of his lithe frame. it’s ridiculous. it should be ridiculous. the top half of keith is swallowed up in too much fabric… but then that fabric runs out at his thighs and from there, it’s a long, long way down. how is that kid so much leg? shiro’s got about a head on keith and yet, keith’s legs rival the length of his own – how is that possible?

and why is shiro so intent on noticing this?

i’m not. fuck, now he’s arguing with himself. perhaps that’s part of why he’s so amendable to keith’s teasing. he’s too busy arguing with himself that he can’t take on arguing with someone else: so here. have a headshake. it’s slow in a clearly distracted way and he thinks, unhelpfully, that there are no objections to anything here. not to keith having his way because it’s his birthday and not to keith standing there, right there next to shiro, showing off his great legs.

keith is wrinkling his nose. for a split second, shiro thinks shit, he’s being weird, isn’t he? he’s looked a little too long and keith’s caught on; keith can probably tell the direction of shiro’s thoughts by the heaviness of his gaze and now he’s going to skip the play fighting and actually kick shiro’s ass. except… oh. there’s his shoulder again.

relief floods shiro’s system and he’s drunk on it for a handful of moments, shoulder relaxing under keith’s hand and breath coming out in a tumbling laugh. ]

Gosh, you’re drowning.

[ he lifts his own hand to keith’s naked shoulder. though, they aren’t quite two idiots standing there in his room, clasping shoulders. shiro pinches the edge of that collar and pulls it up, bunching the material to sit it high on keith’s shoulder. as soon as he lets go though, it slides right back down again. another laugh, smile coming to him easily. ]

Obviously you’re smaller than me but guess you’re a lot smaller than me.

[ so that really is a killer argument, huh? hearing no further rebuttal from shiro on that bit of verbal jousting should make keith preen a bit .... except shiro's apparently gone and fixated on his being small?

>ugh. keith's height hasn't ever been a point of bruised pride before, even while the majority of his peers shot up around him during those incredibly awkward initial stages of puberty. but it's in knowing the kinds of guys shiro would rather go to fancy steak "missions" with that keith feels a twinge of resentment.

irrational? maybe. of course it's obvious keith is smaller than shiro in stature and in bulk as this baggy shirt is currently demonstrating a little too effectively. however, that doesn't mean... ]

Uh-huh, keep lording it over my head. [ grumped as keith yanks shiro down by the collar to stick him in a headlock. ] You're not that much bigger than me.

[ how the tables have turned. forced low, shiro sputters and then almost immediately starts laughing. for show, he’ll wriggle against the crook of keith’s arm, but it lacks the strength to break free. he wonders if he’s two seconds shy of having his hair mussed – again – in a retaliatory mimic. mercy; his poor floof hasn’t recovered from before.

he smiles wider at such thoughts and grips at keith’s forearm, tucked there against his throat. again, it lacks the strength necessary for escape and he merely hangs on. ]

Whatever you need to tell yourself.

[ he sounds delighted, perhaps more so when compared to the grumbly grump of keith’s words. speaking of which, he should do something about that, huh? free hand finds keith’s hip and drops lower, following to the edge of his borrowed shirt until he touches skin.

he pinches his thigh. ]

There. A pinch to grow an inch. [ not that it’ll do keith much good in closing the size gap between them. still: ] You’re welcome.

[ so there's nothing serious about any of this -- not really. keith knows this and yet the grump intensifies the longer shiro teases about his size. he is not going to be that guy with a stupid napoleon complex -- he just isn't okay?? -- but by god that doesn't mean he has to just stand here and take this.

so that thigh shiro had been pinching? shiro can enjoy the feel of flexing muscle as keith pivots down low to pull shiro up onto his back and throws him up and over to bounce harmlessly on his bed. the move is completely ill-advised as it means there will be pizza sauce will end up smeared even more places, but you know what? sacrifices have to be made to make a point sometimes. ]

Think I like the sound of "a throw to grow" better.

[ hmph. ]

[ he knows keith is strong. the leanness of keith’s body is misleading. the same can be said about his frame and stature. that compact build packs a punch, quite literally, and shiro’s gone toe to toe with keith enough times on the castleship’s training deck to know that keith can toss him some yards.

… this is different.

leaning hard into momentum and letting the weight of his own body aid in a throw is a far cry from squatting shiro’s bulk. what’s he weigh these days? two-fifteen? two-twenty? fucking hell. those are the words that sound off in his head as he sails through the air. he doesn’t flip but he comes off keith’s back in a half roll, so when he hits the sheets, he bounces on his back.

huh. so here he is again. once more staring at his ceiling. he blinks, part dazed, part awed, not quite connecting the dots just yet that his comforter is now stained. what comes out is a genuinely curious: ]

Who grows? The thrower or the thrown? [ he pushes himself up on his elbows and looks at keith. ] Because if it works like the pinch, aren’t you just making things worse for yourself?

[ the perplexed look on shiro's face is a glorious sight to behold and keith can't help feeling a little smug. rolling one shoulder with unnecessary exaggeration, he smirks, but doesn't laugh. ]

It works in my favor. [ a beat. can shiro guess what the reasoning is? ] Because it's my birthday today.

[ here, he does crack and laugh a little. is this what they mean when they say 'drunk with power?' keith doesn't know, but becoming a low key birthday tyrant is fun while it lasts. reaching across, he gives shiro's floof a vigorous lil scrub and pulls back, all cheeky smiles. ]

[ shiro has regrets. he’s created a birthday monster. it was amusing a minute ago – and frankly, still is – but keith’s getting a little too big for his britches… that he isn’t even wearing. dammit. retaliation isn’t a choice at this point; it’s a necessity. keith assaults his floof and shiro snatches that wrist, hauling keith closer until he can get another, more solid grip on him. ]

You little twerp!

[ a short tussle and a more muscled pull later, and they’re right back to where they were five minutes ago: duking it out in a round of wrestling. this time, shiro isn’t playing idle, which is, perhaps, why it lasts so long. five minutes, ten minutes, fifteen minutes, how long has it been? every time one manages a pin, that success is ripped away and it’s right back to fast moving limbs, grasping hands and bodies trying to leverage weight.

the bed is ruined; actually ruined. a few tosses into it, shiro remembers the sorry state of his pants, purely because his head ends up pressed to the bedding right next to a smear of meat bits. the wrestling continues though. surely tomato sauce washes out? the comforter is crooked, half off the bed, pillows are knocked to the floor – hopefully nowhere near the pizza carcass – and the fitted sheet has been untucked from the two, top corners.

his poor bed…

doesn’t matter though, because it all pays off in the end, with shiro on top and keith underneath him. it’s reminiscent of the pin that started all of this but this time, it’s solid. strong. shiro’s confident in the heavy seat of his ass on keith’s thighs and the lean of his body, supported by locked arms, both hands holding keith’s wrists to the mattress. grinning wide on a blossoming sense of victory, the shortness of shiro’s breath does little to take away from that. ]

Ha! Not so smug now, are you, birthday boy?

[ their roles are briefly reversed when shiro makes his initial grab and keith does absolutely nothing to try and put up a proper resistance to being pulled right back onto the bed. this time, shiro takes the play fighting a little more seriously and keith is finally happy with the indirect confirmation that things are returning to normal.

it ought to be disgusting, really. shiro's kept his tragic pants on, and the remains of their pizza are being smeared all around the bed, and probably on keith himself meaning he's going to need a shower rather than a simple of change of clothes, but honestly? when he isn't focusing, he's laughing, but focusing takes precedent when his best friend grapples and means it.

of course, eventually he's out of breath and much much sooner than he'd like to be. a light elbow, a firm grip here and there are impossible to avoid completely and his healing ribs start to ache. nonetheless, keith isn't exactly about to take getting pinned this go around lying down, so he tries anyway. bending both legs, he drives his heels into the mattress to lift up and see if he can twist to his sides. with his torso pressed down under shiro's weight though, it's clear keith isn't going anywhere -- at least not without putting more strain on his ribs.

he tries not to grimace, but the sharp breath and wince is all too obvious anyway. the twinge subsides immediately as keith relaxes again, but the damage is already done, isn't it? fuck. keith forges on like nothing happened. ]

Putting me down on my birthday. THat's just cruel.

[ banter with him, please. ]

[ the attempt is valiant… and wholly unsuccessful. in the aftermath of that wince, shiro’s delighted expression slacks on a hard blink and then his jovial mood evaporates just as quickly. concern ushers in and with it, shiro is soft-gazed and weathering through his own grimace. ]

Shit. [ he lets up the pressure on keith’s wrists, only to let go completely. he lets his hands hover for a beat and then he sits up fully, fingers curling into his palms. ]

This was a bad idea.

[ he knew it. this is why he’d been so hesitant the first go-around. he shouldn’t have let keith rile him up like this and forget – fuck, not that this is keith’s fault in any way. it’s shiro’s. he should’ve stuck to his earlier decision and kept those kids gloves firmly pulled on. can he say any of this though? no. he’s fairly certain if he dares to suggest blame for himself or issue an apology, keith will have words. the bad idea is already skating on thin ice. ]

Here, lemme just… [ he doesn’t finish it. merely presses his lips together on a frown and shifts on his knees, getting his weight off keith. now just to unstraddle his hips and give keith all the space he needs.]

[ closed ]

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shiro's 'oh shit i'm massively gay' icon

it's a cute look on him!

i like how this icon and your last one kind of go together.

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i feel like i've been left on read. it hurts.

shush now

/leaves this on read

WOW,

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