[fic] VLD - Inspection Drill

[lysapadin]

Title: Inspection Drill
Characters/Pairings: Shiro/Keith
Summary: Shiro catches Keith wearing his uniform and it turns out that that's kind of A Thing for him. Who knew?
Notes: 2290 words of pre-Kerberos smut featuring uniform kink, because the world needed it, okay?

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Inspection Drill

So, Shiro thought absently, this was going to get filed under Things I Didn't Know I Wanted. Or maybe just under Unexpected Kinks, which had the virtue of brevity going for it.

The source of this revelation was still preoccupied, though Shiro couldn't make out what might have been going through Keith's head at the moment. He was studying his reflection in the mirror, brows loosely knit and his lower lip snagged on one eyetooth, and he was wearing the top from the Garrison's dress uniform—Shiro's dress uniform. When Shiro had left for his morning run, it had been on the hanger hooked over the back of the bathroom door, and Keith had been tangled up in the narrow confines of Shiro's bunk, grumbling sleepy complaints about people who insisted on getting up at fuck-this o'clock to go run in circles.

Now Keith was fresh from the shower, hair curling wet at his nape, and he was wearing the top of Shiro's brand-new dress uniform and nothing else. Sure, the hem hit Keith at mid-thigh, but as Shiro traced his eyes over the line of Keith's bare legs, he couldn't imagine that Keith would have put anything else on. He generally did walk around in nothing but his bare skin after showering, which was one of Shiro's favorite parts of how being in his final year came with the privilege of a single with an ensuite bathroom.

So. His boyfriend was wearing his uniform and nothing else, and it turned out that Shiro really liked that. Well, then.

He'd been staring too long, or perhaps he made some movement that caught Keith's attention. Keith looked away from the mirror and realized that he was under observation. He went scarlet. "Shiro! I—you—shit—I can explain—"

"It looks good on you," Shiro said before Keith could sputter anything else.

At least it got him to stop trying to apologize for something that hadn't offended Shiro in the slightest. Keith frowned. "It's way too big."

That was both objectively true and absolutely beside the point, as far as Shiro was concerned. No, maybe it was the point. Shiro came away from his vantage point outside the bathroom door to join Keith. "Still looks good on you."

The bathroom was tiny, hardly large enough for one person. Keith had to press himself back against the sink to accommodate Shiro's presence. He still looked wary, flushed pink, and was fumbling with the hidden fasteners when Shiro reached for him. He went still under Shiro's hands on his shoulders, staring up at Shiro from under the messy fall of the hair spilling into his eyes. "I know I shouldn't have—I just wanted to see—sorry. I'm sorry."

"I'm not." Shiro smoothed the fabric over Keith's shoulders. "I'd never have realized how hot you are in my uniform if you hadn't tried it on."

Keith's wariness dissolved into confusion. "What?"

"This." Shiro ran his hand over the cloth hanging loose on Keith's lean frame. "This is very hot."

Keith frowned harder. "I don't see why."

No, he probably wouldn't, and Shiro wasn't sure he could explain it, how it felt to look at Keith draped in his uniform, the surge of possessive pride or the frisson of want, knowing that the fabric was lying against Keith's bare skin. Yeah, Shiro didn't know that he could explain all that to himself, let alone Keith. "Trust me, it really is." He cupped Keith's cheek and slid his thumb under the point of his chin, tipping it up so he could kiss Keith.

Action did speak louder than words, right?

Keith relaxed a bit as Shiro kissed him, tipping his head back and parting his lips to deepen the kiss easily enough, but he continued to watch Shiro from behind the half-lowered lids of his eyes. Waiting for some kind of consequences, maybe. Or laughter—the flush hadn't receded all that much from his cheeks.

That was fine. Shiro would just have to show him that laughter was the furthest thing from his mind at the moment.

He slid his fingers into the damp tangle of Keith's hair and angled his head as he stroked his tongue over Keith's lips, between them, tasting the lingering mint from the brushing Keith must have done before his shower. Then he caught Keith's lower lip and sucked on it until Keith made a quiet sound, half a gasp caught in his throat, and lifted a hand to grip Shiro's shoulder.

There, now. That was more like it.

The tight space already had them toe-to-toe. It was the easiest thing in the world to move closer, to edge his knee between Keith's bare legs and press him back, to pin him between his thigh and the sink. Keith uttered another half-voiced gasp against Shiro's mouth and rocked his hips against Shiro, canting them just enough to grind against him. He was starting to get into the spirit of things; Shiro could feel him starting to rouse against his thigh, and yeah, that was good.

But there were better possibilities.

Shiro kissed Keith again, working his lips against Keith's in slow, easy brushes as he splayed his other hand against the small of Keith's back, bracing him against the way he was grinding forward to meet the subtle hitching of Keith's hips. Keith closed his eyes and twisted his fingers in the thin cotton of Shiro's t-shirt, panting softly against Shiro's lips, but the sweetest thing of all was the exasperated way he said Shiro's name when Shiro pulled back, stepping back the scant handful of inches that was all the bathroom could afford him. "Shiro."

Shiro grinned at him, at the way Keith was still flushed but not from embarrassment, lips gone red and wet from their kisses and his eyes gleaming dark behind his lashes. "Wait for it." He went to his knees, the tile hard and soaking into his sweatpants, and set his hands against Keith's knees.

Keith sucked in a deep breath. "Oh my God." The jut of his cock was already showing in the way the fabric was draping against it, but he shuddered as Shiro ran his hands up his thighs, under the hem to find his hips. His knuckles were white where he gripped the sink. "Shiro—"

"Shh." Shiro bent his head and followed his hands with his mouth. He kissed the inside of Keith's knee and trailed his lips up the inside of his thigh until he hit the fluttering hem that draped against the back of his wrist. He paused there, considering it, and bit Keith, setting his teeth against smooth skin and lean muscle firmly enough that Keith cursed and jerked against his hands. He didn't make any actual move to push Shiro away.

It was just as well that Keith liked it when Shiro left marks on him, since Shiro wasn't sure he'd have been able to stop himself from doing it.

He set his mouth on Keith's other thigh and sucked a mark there, dark and rosy against Keith's skin, unmistakable for anything but a lover's mark. Keith groaned and splayed his thighs wider as Shiro worked his way up the insides of his thighs, littering them with the marks of his teeth and his mouth as he rucked up the uniform's hem a little at a time—a little more—and little more—

Keith groaned again when Shiro finally got the them up over his hips, baring his erection to the cool morning air. He was hard enough to have slickness beading at the head of it, and for a moment Shiro just had to look at him, at the way his uniform hung loose enough on Keith to show his shoulder and the sweep of his clavicle and the fading mark on the side of his throat, at the way his hands framed the crest of Keith's hips and the flushed curve of his cock.

Keith was looking back at him, bottom lip caught between his teeth and his cheeks dark with color. God, his eyes were—Shiro still didn't know how it was that he'd managed to earn that mix of wonder and awe from Keith, but damned if he wasn't going to make sure he did everything in his power to live up to it or die trying.

Shiro smiled up at him and leaned forward; Keith let out a sound, nearly a whine, when Shiro nosed the crease of his hip and sucked another mark on the tender skin low on his stomach, just above the tangle of coarse hair. "Shiro," he said, "please."

Shiro didn't have it in him to say no to Keith, not when Keith had actually allowed himself to ask for something, much less something that Shiro wanted to give him. He cast another smile up at Keith and curled his fingers around Keith's cock, guiding it into his mouth.

Keith sighed, a breathy sound edged with a moan, and shut his eyes as he slid between Shiro's lips, heavy on his tongue. Shiro pressed forward, taking as much of him as he could manage and the sucking. Keith shuddered, the movement rippling through him, unspeakably gorgeous like this. God.

Sometimes he could get Keith to move with him, to take what he wanted instead of accepting what Shiro was willing to give him (anything), but this wasn't going to be one of those times. That was fine, too. Shiro worked his mouth up and down Keith's cock, lapping at the head of him and swirling his tongue against the slit, hollowing his cheeks around him as Keith slid over his tongue and nudged the back of his throat. Keith panted over him, lips parted and shudders moving through him as Shiro did everything he knew to bring him to pieces, until Keith was all but writhing against the sink, gasping for breath. Then he caught Shiro's shoulder and squeezed it, warning him—always warning him, though surely he had to have realized by now—

Shiro drew his mouth up the length of Keith's cock and sucked as firmly as he could. Keith cried out, hoarse and sweet, as his cock twitched and pulsed between Shiro’s lips, flooding his mouth.

Shiro settled back on his heels as Keith slumped, chest heaving, the hem of the shirt draped obscenely over the flagging hardness of his cock. “God,” he breathed. It was enough to get Keith to open his eyes and blink at him, dazed.

That was all Shiro really wanted. He smiled at Keith and shoved the waistbands of his sweatpants and shorts down his hips, wanting Keith to see how hard he was just from the way Keith looked, wearing his uniform and marks and undone for him. When Keith's eyes went wider, seeing, understanding, Shiro closed his hand on his cock, stroking himself firmly and grunting at the punch of sensation. Keith stared, wide-eyed. "Shiro…"

Honestly, that was all it really took—his name on Keith's lips in that husky tone, Keith still wearing his uniform and so undone. A few hard strokes and Shiro was done, orgasm driving through him like a jolt of electricity under Keith's eyes. He groaned, shuddering as his cock pulsed against his palm and pleasure scarped him open.

He exhaled after it let him go and grinned at Keith. "I told you it was hot."

"Guess you did." Keith still looked dazed, even as Shiro rose to his feet, until he looked down. His expression changed. "Oh my God, your uniform."

It was a bit of a mess, Shiro had to admit. Still. He cupped Keith's face in his hands and coaxed him to look away from the damage, at him instead. "Hey, that's what dry cleaning is for."

"I didn't mean to—"

That wasn't going to be a fruitful line of discussion, so Shiro kissed him. "It's fine," he murmured against Keith's mouth. "Besides. I'm the one who decided to jump you, so it's my fault anyway."

He didn't think he'd convinced Keith, really, given the down-tucked corners of his mouth, but he didn't try to argue the point either. That was good enough for Shiro. Of course, he did try another tack. "You're not going to ask me what I was doing?"

"Nah. You'll tell me if you think I should know."

Keith glanced at him, expression still, then looked away. "I was having trouble picturing myself in your shoes. Thought maybe a visual would help."

Should he ask whether it had? No, that wasn't his business. "Well, next time they send a mission out, you'll have a uniform to match mine."

Keith smiled at that. "Yeah. Guess I will, won't I?"

That was much better. Shiro kissed him again. "The universe isn't going to know what hit it once we get out there."

Keith's smile crept wider. "Looking forward to it." He prodded Shiro's chest. "Let me go, I need to take another shower. And you need a shower." He grimaced. "We're going to miss breakfast."

"Speak for yourself," Shiro said as blandly as he could manage. He waited for Keith to snort an incredulous, horrified laugh to add, "I've got powerbars in the desk."

Keith smacked his chest. "You're terrible."

Shiro grinned. "I know."

"They say knowing you have a problem is the first step." Keith raised himself up on his toes and kissed him. "Get showered already, geez."

Shiro snapped off a salute. "Yes, sir!"

Hey, there was an idea. If he was going to need to get his uniform dry-cleaned anyway, might as well make it worth doing, right?

Shiro reached for the shower's tap, smiling. It was going to be a good day.

end

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