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Lying is Okay Sometimes

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Shiro knocks on the door once, twice. He calls for Keith when he doesn’t respond. Before his fist can meet the metal a third time, the door slides open. The sight of Keith pains him. He’s trembling, trying to get out of the Blade of Marmora suit, knife lying next to his Paladin armor. His forehead is against the wall, unsteady fingers fumbling over where the suit comes undone.

Then Shiro comes up, footsteps a little heavier than usual to let Keith know he's there. He holds Keith's hair up; there's a swipe of fingers trailing from Keith's nape to the small of his back, and then he feels Keith breathe a little easier.

It’s weird how the suit seems to begin peeling itself off, as weird as alien tech continues to be. Turning his head, Keith's eyes don’t leave Shiro's when the suit stops a little more than halfway down his chest, just barely being inappropriately covered. Shiro tries not to think about how the compression of the suit emphasizes  just how… endowed he actually is. Now’s not the time, but with that look in Keith’s eyes, he can guess what’s coming.

They’d fooled around a little. A lot, almost daily, sometimes more. It’s a routine they fell into after enough time of sparring with each other. It was bound to happen when it was only the two of them, hot and breathing heavy. When they would get pinned under each other, no space between them. When a connection had always been there. Obviously.

Of course Keith had been the one to initiate it. Shiro had him on his knees, elbow locked behind him, pressing him against the training deck’s ground. They were both sweating, panting, exhausted; Shiro had more weight on him than he needed. Keith pushed his hips back. A groan surprised its way out of Shiro’s throat. He’d realized, shamefully, that he was hard, and Keith knew it, pressed indecently close to his bottom.

It was a rare pleasure before it became frequent. Seeking each other’s warmth out after battle was nothing new. Then there were the nightmares Shiro would suffer, occasionally. Galactic fights became an occurrence, and Shiro’s dreams were regular. As became the sex.

...Point is, he knows that Keith needs some form of sedation after what he'd just been through, adrenaline still hot. Shiro ignores the echo of Keith’s comment earlier that had him shifting his weight from one foot to the other. They never talked about it, but he'd always seen Keith as more than a friendly fuck as relief from the stress, the adrenaline. Too many factors got in their way. Keep getting in their way.

They’re forced to prioritize. It's fine. He knows how Keith feels, the truth so vivid when he looks at him. It has to be enough for now.

He knows Keith, or at least he thought he did. In truth he's still hurt from finding out about the knife's existence being kept from him.

"I’ve had it all my life!"

He wonders if Keith has room in his mind to think about how Shiro felt about the blade and not his blood. Shiro doesn’t care about him being Galra. He's a good person. Shiro loves him.

Keith would never go out of his way to hurt him. He thinks about back on the ship, how Keith had lingered. He probably wanted to talk about it, but backed out as soon as they made eye contact. Shiro thinks about their relationship. Maybe it makes sense, he admits to himself, begrudgingly.

Looking at Keith, visibly trying to calm down, he knows Keith was and is still scared. Too much has happened, and now nothing is. He’d spent hours fighting, getting beaten. Passed out from the pain. He’d seen a fake Shiro condemn him in a time of need. Now, Shiro assumes, with everything quiet around them, he’s perturbed over knowing just what he is. This isn’t something he can keep from the team anymore.

Shiro will never see him differently for his blood, but the others might. Allura will. Inevitably, they’ll have to accept it. Doesn’t make the coming out process any less anxiety inducing, though.  

Keith's stare shifts downwards, eyebrows tilting up. Vulnerability kept from everyone else. Shiro, more than anything, just wants to let Keith sleep.

"You okay?" Shiro asks out of necessity.

"...Ask again later," Keith answers like a magic 8-ball. Maybe needing Shiro to shake him up a few times before he can say yes, yes, fuck yes .

Shiro’s hand had trailed down to the side of his neck, thumb rubbing soothingly from jaw to collarbone.

“Shiro,” Keith speaks, voice gritty.

“Yeah?” he braces himself, but still feels his heart rate jump when Keith turns fully to him, suit slipping down further. A small oh slips from his mouth when Keith presses his bare chest against Shiro’s armored one.

Keith shivers; the cold, hard surface of the chestplate sensitive on his heated skin. Shiro gently places his hands over Keith’s arms, blushing at the sight of him half naked, goosebumps starting to form, his nipples hardening.

“Touch me. Just.” Keith sighs, leaning into him. “Bring me down.”

Shiro squeezes his biceps, cranes his neck forward to look down Keith’s back, where the suit lays open over his waist, where the suit hugs every curve, every lean muscle of his body.

He presses him against the wall. He foregoes kissing and starts nipping at Keith’s neck, hands moving over his arms and shoulders to squeeze them soothingly, an attempt at massaging until Keith loops his arms over Shiro’s shoulders.

Dark eyes land on the new scar over Keith’s right collarbone. He wants to kiss it, to provide comfort over it the way Keith has to his many, many markings, but he’s not sure if that’s what Keith wants right now, or if it’s just too soon.

Running his hands down Keith’s sides, from skin to suit, Shiro cups his ass and squeezes, pushing a thigh in between his legs and lifting.

“Shiro,” Keith groans. “come on.”

“Turn around,” Shiro says without commanding, Keith looks at him a little dazed before turning.

Shiro wants to kiss the spot between his shoulder blades. He wants to lick every inch of aching and bruised skin, but he refrains. They’d have time for that later, if a less intimate version than how Shiro would want. He moves his Galra hand to where it’s needed, at the patch of material growing warmer between Keith’s legs.

Keith grinds down onto it, mouth opening to urge Shiro until he feels the man peel the suit off further with his other hand, until it hangs off him from the upper thighs down. When a finger sinks into him his lips part in a soft exhale.

“I’m proud of you,” Shiro whispers, kissing the little mole behind Keith’s ear. “You were great out there.”
“Yeah –– great at getting my ass kicked,” Keith mumbles, but he’d shivered at Shiro’s praise all the same, then lets out a moan when Shiro puts another finger in, curling them in argument.

Shiro’s other hand moves up to play with his breast, cupping the swell and lightly pinching his nipple. Teeth dig into Keith’s unscarred shoulder as his fingers move faster, roughly pumping in and out of Keith’s heat.

“Harder,” Keith commands, breathing ragged as he grinds against Shiro.

Shiro groans and bites down harder, pushing another finger into Keith. He pumps harder, deeper, fucking these broken noises out of Keith with three fingers, and he doesn’t let up when he feels Keith’s legs shake. He wants to hold him closer.

“Fuck,” Shiro grunts out after some time, removing himself from Keith only long enough to yank his chestpiece off, the desperate whine ripping from the other shooting straight to his dick.

He wraps his arm back around Keith, bringing them chest to back, and shoves his fingers back in. Keith sobs, threatening to melt in Shiro’s arms, a high pitched moan escaping him when Shiro’s thumb moves up and starts playing with his clit.

Dick hard and aching against the Black Paladin’s suit, Shiro grinds against Keith’s ass, bulge caught in between pert cheeks.

“Take it –– take it out, Shiro, please.”

“We don’t have time for that.” Oh, but he wants to. “I’ll give it to you later, if you still want it.”

Keith only groans in annoyance but doesn’t say anymore, not when Shiro’s got three thick fingers knuckle-deep up his cunt, and not when Shiro’s other hand is brought down to rub roughly against his clit, getting him higher and higher. His walls spasming, the obscenely wet squelch of slick and Shiro’s ministrations, he’s about to fall, no ounce of trust lost in the man being there to catch him.

His back arches, fucking himself harder onto Shiro, forcing him deeper, fists pushing against the wall with his head down, mouth hanging open as if he’s going to cry out. Muscles clench around Shiro’s fingers, so deliciously tight, as Keith’s orgasm washes over him.

Fuck,” Keith’s whimper is small, cracked. “yes.”

Shiro presses open mouthed kisses over his skin. Between bionic fingers, some of his slick drips onto the floor. Keith probably would too if Shiro wasn’t holding him up.

He’s fucking hard. He wants to run his dick through Keith’s folds, or just jerk off and come all over his ass and back, but he doesn’t want to worry about the cleanup.

I could come on the floor if I wanted, he thinks for a second, the irritation he feels towards the society bristling again. Or on the wall. Fuck the Blade of Marmora.

He remembers his sense of diplomacy and regains his composure, sans the clothed boner still nestled in the cleft of Keith’s ass.

Keith. Just worry about Keith right now. Hands slip free from his bruised clit and twitching hole, lewd noises accompanying. He wraps his arms securely around Keith’s waist, keeping him up in his arms as he calms down, chest heaving with harsh breaths.

“Fuck me,” he croaks, finding his footing.

“I already did.”

“You know what I mean. What about you?” Keith pushes back against Shiro’s crotch. Shiro’s still damp hand grips his hip, keeping him away.

“I’ll be fine,” He says, but his traitor eyes brush down Keith’s back to see himself, fully clothed, straining just a mere few inches from Keith, almost entirely naked. He swallows hard, jaw set.

“The others will see.”

“I'll will it down.”

“Really.”

“Yeah, I’ll… think about Haggar, naked.”

Silence. Shiro bites his lip and tries to look serious when Keith turns around. They stare at each other until a loud snort forces it’s way through Keith, and Shiro can’t help the grin that spreads over his face when Keith shuts his eyes and laughs . He can’t help the way he joins either, head lowering to bring their foreheads together. He holds Keith a little tighter.

“Ugh, gross,” Keith’s laughter begins to subside, eyes opening. “Um, Shiro.”

“Yeah?”

“I’m probably…” the hands on Shiro’s waist squeeze ever so slightly. He’s shyly looking away, but he doesn’t move. “I might need some. Cuddling, later.”

Shiro smiles, all too fond. Keith had shamelessly stripped and pressed himself against Shiro, saying he wanted to be fucked, but asking to cuddle makes him sheepish. It’s cute. Keith is cute.

He cups Keith’s cheek, thumb brushing gently over the bruise forming under his eye. “A lot’s happened.”

“Yeah. And I need to get you back.”

“I’d appreciate that,” Shiro chuckles. “...we should get going,” His voice is quiet, connecting invisible lines between the beauty marks dotting Keith’s back; lines he’d memorized a while ago.

He bends down, eyes not focusing on Keith’s body, to grab the hem of the Marmora suit where it lay open, having slipped down to Keith’s knees. Keith doesn’t complain as Shiro redresses him, seeming to appreciate the help. He’s tired, but that doesn’t stop him from playfully smiling at Shiro, from bouncing just enough to bring attention to his chest as Shiro tucks him back in. Shiro pinches his cheek with a smile of his own, before moving his hand back to lift Keith’s hair up as he’d done not too long ago, suit securing itself back up. Keith rests against Shiro’s chest for a few moments.

When he pulls back, for the first time since this ordeal, they kiss, Shiro cradling the back of his head. It’s soft, slow, and speaks what neither of them can. Keith doesn’t rush him.

“I’m sorry I lied,” Keith says after they part, looking to Shiro’s eyes, then his chin.

“It’s okay. I understand. But we shouldn’t keep secrets between us anymore.”

Keith grunts.

“Do you have anymore?” Shiro means to tease, but Keith’s eyebrows still twitch.

“I don’t,” Keith lies.

“Me neither,” Shiro lies right back.

These lies are okay. Some truths need to be kept on the backburner. For whatever reason.