shining like the stars

42

There was a moment of pure disorientation standing on the other side of that closed door, Shiro's hand on his waist, Lance ahead of him. Keith inhaled the cooler, recirculated air of the bedroom and realized how dizzy he was, how overheated and bothered and needy he felt, and he sagged against Shiro's side and closed his eyes.

"Keith?" Shiro said, and his tone was questioning, not panicking.

"I'm all right," Keith said without opening his eyes. He was, at least as far as he could tell – his heart was beating like a jackhammer, the water from the mineral bath left his skin damp and slick, but both of Shiro's hands were touching his body right now, and when he opened his eyes and looked up at Shiro, nothing else seemed to matter at all.

Shiro shifted his position suddenly, his arms sliding around Keith's sides and all of the sudden he was airborne. Keith let out an undignified yelp as Shiro carried him the approximately five paces to the spread of futons on the floor and dropped him there, right beside the spot where Lance had seated himself, uncertain of what else to do.

"Oh my god," Lance said, but it was a prelude to a very loud and somewhat unsexy cackle. "Your face was-"

Tragically, Keith never learned what his face resembled because Shiro grabbed Lance by the shoulder and shoved him down too, onto his back. Lance went down with his own yelp, and he went stiff as a board on his back, his shoulder touching Keith's. "Fuck," Lance muttered, but Keith wasn't looking at him, he was staring up at Shiro.

He could smell so much, Lance's nervousness was sharp and bitter, but it was drowned out by the heavy scent of Shiro's musk, his arousal. Keith swallowed and wet his lips and stared, because Shiro was nude above him and he'd cast aside that tiny wet towel and Keith's mind went blank with naked need.

Keith felt Lance shift and roll away as Shiro put one hand on the futon beside Keith's head, his eyes locked on Keith's. They were both breathing too fast and too hard, and Shiro's knee went between Keith's legs and he slid his other hand up the outside of Keith's thigh. His body rippled and moved of its own accord; Keith arched off the futon and Shiro's hand dove into the space created, flattening on the small of Keith's back, just above his ass. Keith flung his arms over Shiro's shoulders and then they were kissing, finally, finally.

Shiro's kisses were sloppy and open-mouthed, and Keith couldn't form words around the foreign tongue in his mouth so he settled on short gasping moans. He wanted more than this but his mind had gone all fuzzy, and it wasn't until Shiro kissed down his jaw that he regained some semblance higher processing.

"Fuck," Keith said, and twisted his head as Shiro's teeth traced delicately down the line of his throat. "Fuck, I want-"

Shiro's mouth stopped on the muscle that connected neck to shoulder; it felt so hot that Keith swore it was searing his skin. "Shiro," Keith managed, but everything else flew out of his head when Shiro bit him there.

Keith heard Lance's little gasp from far away, his murmur of 'holy shit', but Keith really wasn't paying attention to Lance at the moment. His body surged against Shiro's, his cock dragging a wet strip up Shiro's belly as he came and Shiro didn't lift his mouth right away.

"Mine," Shiro growled into his skin and Keith shivered and moaned.

#

It took a good few moments for Keith to come back to himself, his eyes almost rolled back into his head and breathing raggedly. Lance had never seen him so wanton, even when they had had sex it was nothing like this. He brushed his fingers through Keith's hair, as Shiro sat back on his knees between Keith's spread legs.