[fic] VLD - Here's to the Night

[lysapadin]

Title: Here's to the Night

Characters/Pairings: Keith/Shiro

Summary: It's their last weekend together before the Kerberos mission, and Keith has plans for Shiro.

Notes: Adult for smut. Cisswap!Keith, first times, pre-Kerb angst. Beware of Feels. 6171 words.

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Here's to the Night

Keith's had something on her mind all evening, but Shiro figures he knows what that something is: this is the last time they're going to get to hang out until after he gets back from Kerberos some twelve months from now. It's weighing on him, that's for sure—twelve months feels like a long time to go without his best friend, and, well, he worries. Keith doesn’t have a knack for people, not the kind of knack that will make the next few months easy. In a perfect word, the fact that she was born to fly would be all she needs to get by, but God knows this isn't a perfect world. Maybe if she'd been a guy, she'd have fit in better, but as it is…

Shiro worries.

This is his last weekend of freedom, his last weekend to spend with Keith, so he resolutely pushes the worry to the side to concentrate on what actually matters—riding out into the desert with Keith and daring each other into ever more ridiculous stunts on their hover bikes, and then retreating to the decrepit old shack that is better than camping out under the stars, if only because its well still works.

They build a fire out front of the shack and roast the hotdogs from their packs as the sun goes down, then marshmallows as twilight spreads across the sky.

As the stars begin to come out, Keith says, abrupt, "I want you to fuck me."

Shiro nearly chokes on the last marshmallow. "What?" He can't possibly have heard that right—

The firelight paints everything in ruddy tones, but Keith's cheeks seem darker than that ought to account for. She meets his eyes steadily all the same. "I want you to fuck me."

Right. So he didn't mishear that.

Shiro puts his marshmallow stick down carefully and clears his throat. "This is—sudden."

It's been a while since Keith's favored him with one of her eyerolls, but she gives him one now. "You don't actually believe that, do you?"

"…no," Shiro admits. He'd promised her perfect honesty once, and he certainly isn't going to go back on his word at this late date. "I suppose I don't." He pulls his knees up and lets his hands dangle between them. This isn't sudden; he's been aware of his attraction to Keith for—a while now, and unaware of it for even longer than that. He's caught her looking at him, too, from time to time, her eyes gone dark. Speculative. It's just that they haven't done anything about it. There are rules about this kind of thing, and he'd decided privately that he'd rather have Keith as a friend and forego the rest rather than risk losing her completely. He'd figured that she'd come to the same conclusions herself.

Well. Apparently not.

Keith moves, restless, poking at the fire with her marshmallow stick until sparks fly up from it. "You know that everyone thinks we're screwing each other, right?"

"Yeah, I know." He's done his best to quash those rumors where he can, but people are people. It never has worked very well.

Keith tosses her head, not quite meeting his eyes anymore. "Then they might as well be right about something for once."

"The hell with other people and what they think." He's keeping a close eye on her and doesn't miss the tiny flinch. "We've never worried about them before. So why now?"

It might be a trick of the firelight, but there's a shadow flickering at the corner of her jaw like she's gritting her teeth. "Just say no if you don't want to, Jesus."

"I didn't say I didn't want to. I just want to know why now and not any time in the past year." Has it been a year of that charged awareness of Keith already? Of being able to close his eyes and picture the arch of her neck and the shape of her hands? Yeah, it has, go figure.

Keith jerks and meets his eyes, maybe in spite of herself. "You do?"

She sounds so surprised. God, he's never met anyone as brave as she is. "Yeah, of course I do." If she can be brave, then he can, too. "More than just about anything."

The firelight turns her wide-eyed gaze luminous, breathtaking. "Oh." She bites her lip, worries it until it's dark, a little swollen. Shiro can't help staring. "You're going," she blurts. "You're going to be gone and I can't help the feeling that I'll regret it if I let you without—without—"

She leaves it there, but that's enough for Shiro. There are platitudes he could mouth (it's only a year, it's only an exploratory mission, they'll be back before she knows it) but there's also something to be said for Keith's instincts, which haven't failed them yet. "Okay." His face feels warm, much warmer than can be blamed on their little campfire. "Okay, if you want—okay."

They stare at each other across the fire—now what?—before Keith pushes herself to her feet with unconscious grace. "Okay. I have stuff—in case. We should go inside."

Of course she planned ahead. Shiro couldn't have stopped himself from smiling up at her even if he had wanted to, which he doesn't, because Keith is a marvel, pure and simple. "Okay."

What she gives him is less a nod than a jerk of her head. "If you'll take care of the fire, I'll be inside." She picks up her pack and heads for the shack without waiting for an answer, but that's okay. She's nervous, too. It's one thing to talk…

Shiro shakes his head at himself and stows the remains of their meal where the local wildlife can't get it. By the time he's shoveling dirt over the fire, the shack's windows are lit with a warm golden glow, brightest in the window of the room that would have served as a bedroom, once upon a time. He forces himself to make sure of the fire and rakes his hands through his hair in a futile attempt at steadying his nerves. Then he grabs his own pack and heads inside, because Keith is waiting.

He takes his boots off inside the door and sets them next to hers before ducking into the bedroom, where any thoughts he might have had about asking whether she's really sure about this die. So does the mystery of what's been eating up her free time on the weekends lately. They've never bothered to do much more than clear the worst of the shack's detritus out on their previous camping trips, but the main room had looked almost habitable in the dim light spilling out the bedroom door. The bedroom is in even better shape—there's a sheet tacked up over the window, offering privacy, and the room is unexpectedly clean. Keith has a wide tray of gravel that anchors a cluster of candles—source of that warm, friendly light—and there's even a cheap futon mattress on the bedframe now to replace the one that had been full of rodents when they'd first found the place.

Keith is sitting on the bed, bare skin gold in the candlelight, chin lifted at an angle calculated to challenge (and cover her uncertainty).

"Jesus," Shiro breathes, mouth running dry. His pack slips unheeded from his fingers. "Jesus, Keith…"

She pulls in a deep breath that causes her breasts to rise and fall—Jesus, her breasts, small and round, tipped with rose, he's never seen anything so perfect in his life—"Well?"

He makes it across the room to her without tripping over his own two feet somehow and goes to his knees at her feet. "God…" It gives her the height advantage on him, enough that she's looking down at him. This close he can see how dark her eyes are. Can see the tiny tremor in her hand when she lifts it and touches his face, fingertips light against his cheek.

Shiro leans into the touch, delicate as it is, and Keith's smile crooks her mouth the faintest bit. "So I guess this is okay?"

"So okay." Shiro lays a hand on her knee, warm under his palm, and she shivers. "God, you're beautiful."

She blinks and turns red. "Shiro—"

"Can I kiss you?" He hates to interrupt her, but better to do that than listen to her protest the compliment. (Someday he'll get her to accept a compliment without arguing about it first, but that's probably not going to be today.)

The diversion works; Keith passes her tongue over her lips. "Yeah. You can kiss me."

Shiro leans up and she leans down and their mouths touch, brushing together, practically chaste. Even so, that simple touch sparks through Shiro. Then Keith leans forward and presses her mouth against his, clumsy until Shiro angles his head to fit against her properly. That's a revelation. Shiro watches her eyes go wide and then heavy-lidded as they come together and break apart and come together again, and he's sure she's watching him in return.

She's the one who parts her lips first and sucks his bottom lip between them; the sudden pressure makes him groan and reach up to thread his fingers through the loose fall of her hair. Keith hums and leans into it, flirts her tongue against his bottom lip, against his tongue when he opens up to her, only tentative at first. As their kisses turn deeper, wetter, she grows bolder, slides her tongue into his mouth as she cups his face in her hands. Shiro could never have imagined anything as amazing as her mouth moving against his, the texture of her hair running between his fingers, or the warm skin of her knee beneath his palm. He could spend the rest of his life kissing Keith and die happy and fulfilled.

She has other ideas.

Keith breaks away from his mouth who knows how much later, except that her mouth is red and tender with kissing. "Just how much of a gentleman are you going to be?"

Huh? "What…?" This isn't going to go down as one of his most articulate moments.

Keith rolls her eyes. "Right, got it. Fine." She grabs the hand resting on her knee and plants it squarely on her breast.

"Oh," Shiro says, which earns him another roll of her eyes. That's fair, all things considered.

"I'm not looking for a gentleman." Keith captures his face again, maybe to make sure she has his attention, and lowers her head to kiss him again, quick, shockingly certain. "Get with the program, Shirogane."

"Guess I'm not surprised you're the pushy type," Shiro says, fond, and coaxes her into another kiss as he slides his fingers over her skin, silky soft under his fingers, learning the slope and swell of her breast and the weight of it cupped in his palm, the pleased murmur of her voice as he does. She arches as he rubs his thumb over the peak of her breast, stroking a circle over it, and utters another of those pleased murmurs against his mouth.

That suggests something, reluctant as he is to abandon her mouth, but the way she gasps when he kisses the soft skin under her ear is its own reward. Shiro curls his free arm around her and spreads his fingers against her shoulder as he traces his lips over her throat, darting his tongue out to taste her skin, salt and desert dust and sunshine, as she catches at his shoulders and arches against his hands.

Shiro wonders, can't help it, at the note of surprise in her voice as he traces his mouth over her throat, finding the sensitive places, as he palms her breast, but—surely she would have said something if she hadn't ever done this before?

He catches himself on the thought and stifles the laugh against her collarbone, because this is Keith Kogane he's talking about, Keith who is made of nothing if not determination and bravado. Of course she wouldn't have said anything.

He'll just have to work with that, that's all.

Kissing her throat makes her gasp, but when he dips his head lower to brush his lips over her breast, she exclaims his name and digs her fingers into his shoulders as she arches against the touch. "Fuck—!" That's a delightful reaction, even before he captures the peak of her breast between his lips and flicks his tongue over it. Keith shudders against his hands, tossing her head back and catching a hand at the back of his head, pressing him closer. Shiro sucks and rolls her other nipple between his fingers, exploring her reactions—the softer touches make her gasp, but when he lets his mouth turn harder or squeezes gently, she utters cries of shock and pleasure and pushes against him for more, scratching blunt nails over his scalp and digging them into his shoulder hard enough that he'll probably have bruises later.

Should he like that thought as much as he does? Shiro can't decide, but there's no denying that the thought of wearing her marks on his skin on the way to Kerberos puts a hot ache at the pit of his stomach.

"Shiro—Shiro—!" Keith arches against him, taut as a bowstring. "Please—I need—please—" She shifts, spreads her knees wider as she tilts her hips up, making explicit what she can't seem to articulate. Shiro groans against her breast as the hot, wild scent of her arousal rises up between them, heavy enough that he can taste it on his tongue. Keith flexes against his hands and mouth, rocking her hips up fruitlessly. She whines, frustrated. "Shiro—"

"Shh, I've got you." He slides his hand down the curve of her ribs and waist and settles it at the gentle flare of her hip, settles the other at the small of her back, and draws her closer to the edge of the futon to tilt her hips up even further. She splays her legs wider, opening herself up to him. God, the tangle of dark curls between her thighs are damp and the folds of her are swollen and flushed, shining and slick with how wet she is.

It's a sight to savor, but the way Keith says his name reaches into Shiro and demands that he do whatever he can to answer her need. "I have—" she starts to say as he slides his hand from her hip to her thigh, coaxing her legs wider, but she stops as Shiro leans down. "Shiro—Shiro, oh my God—" The note of her surprise turns incredulous as he strokes his tongue over the seam of her folds, tasting the tang of her for the first time, and she clutches at his hair. "Shiro!"

"I've got you, baby," he tells her, the endearment slipping out heedlessly, the weight of it right and proper in his mouth, and he licks her open, stroking his tongue between her folds in long, slow movements that pull a startled cry out of her as she rocks her hips against his mouth and flails a hand back to brace herself. Shiro watches her do it, her face flushed dark and her mouth open for the way she's panting for breath. God, she's so beautiful that he aches with it as he explores her with lips and tongue, lapping at the inner folds of her and flicking his tongue against the entrance of her body just for the shocked sound she makes, before swirling it over the nub of her clit.

Keith cries out, falling back against the futon as she drives her hips up against his mouth, grinding herself against his tongue. Shiro curls his hand around her thigh, holding her steady, and keeps going, lapping at her until Keith cries out, her back coming off the bed as she comes.

Shiro eases back as she subsides, her chest heaving and her skin gleaming in the candlelight, and kisses the tender skin low on her stomach. "Good?"

Keith moans, little shudders still rippling through her. "That was—you—Jesus, Shiro."

He's going to take that for a yes. "Good. How about this?" He shifts so he can dip his fingers between her thighs, sliding them against the heat of her body and the slickness of how she's just come.

Keith hisses, rocking her hips up, apparently not too sensitive to appreciate a firmer touch. "God—yes, fuck—!" she gasps when he rubs his thumb in slow circles around her clit. The sound she makes when he nudges a finger against her entrance is wordless, almost a growl. He slips it into her and her back comes off the bed again as she shouts, muscles rippling around him as she bears down on his fingers. God, she's amazing, flushed and golden in the candlelight, responding to every little shift of his fingers without hesitation or self-consciousness.

One taste isn't enough, couldn't ever be enough. Shiro kisses the inside of her thigh and nuzzles the curls of her hair, breathing her in, as he slides his tongue over her clit again, soft. Keith shakes and twists her fingers in his hair, sharp enough to sting. "More—God, please…"

Shiro wouldn't say no to her even if he knew how. He closes his lips around her clit, sucking on it, teasing the point of his tongue under the hood as she cries his name, and slips a second finger into her, working it deeper—God, she's furnace-hot around him, dripping wet over his fingers and his wrist.

She digs a heel into his shoulder, rocking up against his fingers, his mouth, straining after her pleasure. Shiro curls his fingers inside her and she finds it, shaking as her hips jerk, but her moans sound desperate, unfulfilled. "It's not enough—Shiro, fuck me," she demands, voice rough and her body still fluttering around his fingers. She gropes for something and bounces a small box off his shoulder with remarkable coordination, given the circumstances. "Fuck me."

It's a box of condoms. Shiro could laugh, because on the one hand it's ridiculous, they're both ridiculous, but on the other, Jesus, she really does want this, wants him, has thought it through and prepared and—

He doesn't have the words for what that does to him. How it humbles him. Awes him.

Shiro catches her hand and presses his mouth to the palm. "Okay," he says, voice thick. "Okay."

He hates to let go of her—to let his fingers slip free of her, to draw away from the wet heat of her—but he'll be damned if he comes to her for the first time still dressed, even if there's a part of him certain that she wouldn't give the slightest damn about that. He strips out of his jacket and shirt impatiently, tossing them aside, and is undoing his fly when the sound Keith makes catches his attention. She raised herself up on one elbow to watch him strip, and she's got the other hand between her thighs. Her gaze is openly appreciative, and as Shiro stares, she sinks three fingers into herself, meets his eyes, and grins.

It's some kind of miracle that he doesn't destroy the zipper of his jeans or tear a seam or kill himself with the way he rushes to peel out of the rest of his clothes. Then he has to figure out where condoms got to (knocked under the bed, it turns out) and get the box open.

In the meantime, Keith rearranges herself, stretching out on the length of the bed and watching him, wrist flexing slowly between her thighs as she does, so she must approve of what she sees of him. Which is reassuring.

There's nothing particularly elegant about tearing open the wrapper and unrolling the condom over his cock, but Keith doesn't seem to mind that, watching with interest and what Shiro thinks is curiosity, maybe a bit of trepidation. He gets it on, biting his lip against how hard he is, and goes to her. He considers it and chooses to kneel over her hips, hands planted on either side of her head. "Hey."

Like this, he can see how dark her eyes are, irises a thin ring around the pupils, the barest hint of uncertainty in how her brows knit together. "Hey." She wets her lips and reaches up to him, touching his chest, spreading her fingers over his heart. "So I guess this is really happening."

"If you want it to, yeah." Shiro permits himself to brush the hair out of her eyes. "Your call, though."

Oh, he knows that look—one might even say he knows it intimately. So to speak. That's Keith's are you for real look with a sprinkling of you've gotta be kidding me on top. He's been on the receiving end of that look more times than he can count since meeting her. "For fuck's sake," she mutters, right before she reaches down and grabs his cock.

There's only so much sensation a film of latex can dull; Shiro loses track of everything for a bit while sensation shoots up his spine and sets fireworks off inside his skull. It's not the best angle and Keith's grip is inexpert and none of that matters in the slightest when Shiro is wound as tightly as he already is. He jerks against her hand, fucks into it really, heat winding through him from the soles of his feet to the crown of his head, drawing tight in a knot at the pit of his stomach—

Keith changes her grip and rubs her thumb against the head of his cock, and Shiro loses it, comes unstrung just like that, bucking against her fist as pleasure lashes through him, whip-sharp and perfect, sweeping everything before it.

When Shiro comes back down enough to recognize the world outside his own skin, he finds that he's still braced over Keith, who is watching him in obvious shock. "What the hell was that?"

Shiro doesn't have the wherewithal to be coy, not when she's still got a hand on him and there are ripples of sensation rolling through him like aftershocks. "Me coming my brains out, that's what." He kisses her before she has a chance to do more than widen her eyes and open her mouth. "God, baby, you're amazing." Maybe he'll be embarrassed at going off that fast later, but right now he feels too good to care, warm and lazy with satisfaction.

"I—you—but—" Keith looks like she doesn't know whether she wants to be proud of herself or consternated instead. "I wanted you to fuck me."

Shiro can't help it; he laughs, helpless with the affection glowing in his chest, bright as a star going supernova. "Oh, Keith." He kisses her scowl and eases himself down to her side to deal with the condom—oh, good, the box is still within reach. "Do I look like I'm done for the night?"

Keith looks him over, clearly filled with misgivings. Her gaze lingers at his crotch. "You tell me."

"I'm not." Shiro sets his hand on her hip, coaxing her to curl onto her side to face him. "This is a good thing." She gives him a look that drips skepticism. "No, really. Now I won't come the second I'm inside you. This is much less embarrassing, believe me."

Color dusts her cheeks. "You wouldn't really—would you?"

He brushes his lips over her forehead. "With you? Yeah, I probably would have. I don't think you realize what you do to me."

She frowns. "What I do to you? Huh."

Shiro doesn't regret that he's going to Kerberos, but he does regret that he's not going to have the time he needs to convince Keith that he means what he says before he goes. He's going to have to make the time he does have count. "Yeah." He kisses her forehead again and brushes his lips over her eyelids, her cheeks, before capturing her mouth again and trying to demonstrate what she won't believe in words. God only knows whether he's succeeding, but Keith leans into the movement of his mouth and reaches back to him when he curls an arm around her to cradle her head as he smooths the other up her side and over her breast. Shiro hums to her as she traces her hands over his chest and shoulders with growing confidence. She fits a hand on his bicep—her fingers won't reach all the way around—and huffs against his mouth. "Why are you so built?"

Shiro fixes a solemn look on his face. "Exercise and healthy living." He laughs when she swats him.

"Smartass." She glares, but that melts away under a thoughtful expression. "Hm." The next thing he knows, she's grabbing a handful of his ass and squeezing it. "Huh."

Shiro isn't sure he trusts the gleam in her eyes, but her grip feels good and there's heat pooling low in his gut, so he asks anyway. "What?"

"Nothing, just a bet I could settle now if I wanted." She waits for him to raise his eyebrows. "It's a thing in the women's dorms, you know. Whether someone really could bounce a quarter off your ass or not."

Was he flattered, horrified, or just embarrassed? Hell, why not all three? Jesus. "Did you want me to go get my spare change so you can give it a try?"

Keith pretends to consider it and shakes her head. "Maybe later." She moves her hand and cups his cock in her palm, uttering a thoughtful sound as Shiro groans and hitches against the pressure of it as his cock stirs. "We have other plans, right?"

Or something like that. Shiro isn't tracking very well, not when she's exploring him, running calloused fingers over the shaft of his cock and teasing them over the foreskin, the head, sliding her hand down to touch his balls and cup them in her hand as he groans, cock filling and getting harder with each passing second and careful touch. She runs her hand back up, curling her fingers around him and fisting him. "Huh. Guys are kind of easy, aren't they?"

Shiro groans, rocking against her hand. "Don't know about guys, but I am for you." He kisses her when she falters, darting a wide-eyed look at him, and fumbles for the condoms until he secures one. "You wanna get this on me?"

It's a loss when she lets go of him and takes the little packet from his fingers, but the way she looks at him, dark-eyed and hungry, more than makes up for it. "You're not gonna go and let me down again, are you?"

"Never, baby," he promises her over the crinkle of her ripping the packet open.

She pauses. "You like calling me that, huh?"

"I can stop if you don't like it?" Try to stop, anyway. It just seems to want to come out of his mouth.

"Mm." Keith frowns and then shakes her head. "I'd punch anyone else, but it's okay if it's you, I guess."

Shiro doesn't know what to make of that and doesn't get the chance to think about it because she's got her hands on him again, is unrolling the condom down his cock—the sensation is one thing, but it's the fact that she's the one doing it, doing it because she really wants this, wants him, that makes his heart pound. She has to notice the way his cock twitches against her fingers, but she lets it pass unremarked, and lies back once the condom's in place. "Well?"

"Jesus, Keith." Shiro leans over her and kisses her again because he can, at least until she reaches up and pulls on his hair. "Okay, okay, I can take a hint." He runs his hand down her body, dips it between her thighs and has to bite back a groan at how wet she is, the way she arches against his hand.

She spreads her knees wider for him to settle between them and grabs his hips, tugging on them. "Come on, Shiro."

He pauses, something about that not sitting right. No, not something, he knows what it is that's wrong. "You could call me Takashi, if you wanted."

The offer distracts her from trying to pull him closer. "…really?" Her eyes are wide, wondering, and he knows she's remembering the time he explained why he goes by a shortened form of his last name instead of his given name, his compromise with his home culture and the more relaxed culture of the Garrison.

Shiro kisses her again, soft. "Yeah. If you want to." It feels the same way the word baby feels in his mouth, the way their mouths fit together does, the way he feels in her company does.

She takes a breath. "Takashi."

It sounds good in her husky tones, sounds right. Shiro kisses her again, breathless with the rightness of it. "Yeah, that's good. That's perfect."

She says his name again, smiling at him, tiny and pleased. Then she digs her fingers into his hips, tugging on them. "Come on, Takashi."

He laughs and settles against her, slides against the wetness and the heat of her, and promptly groans at how good that is. Keith groans too and tries to press him closer. "Takashi…"

"Easy, baby, I've got you." He presses his mouth to hers, slow and easy, as he reaches down to guide himself against her, into her, the molten heat of her body wrapping around him.

Keith gasps and clutches at his back. "Oh—oh—" She growls when he stills, acutely conscious that this is almost certainly her first time. She growls and digs her hands into his ass, pulling him closer. "No, don't stop, come on—ah!" She shudders when he sinks the rest of the way home, pressed as close to her as he can get. "God… oh my God, Takashi…"

Shiro slides a hand under her, cradling her head, and bites his lip against the way her body grips him, heat rippling up his spine with every tiny movement they make together. "God, Keith, baby…" He kisses her throat, the underside of her jaw, the corner of her mouth. "God…"

Keith groans and turns her face to his, kissing him properly, and pulls her knees up. He slides that much deeper into her, close enough to rub against her clit, and that make her utter a sharp sound against his lips as she jerks against him. The sudden movement sets off a chain reaction: Shiro groans and surges against her and Keith cries out and clutches at his back, digging her nails into his shoulders; Shiro catches her closer and rocks into her again, pleasure rolling through him; Keith hooks her legs around him and urges him deeper, crying his name, her voice hoarse against his ear. The rhythm clicks into place then, the way Shiro moves over her, in her, and the way Keith strains up to meet him, breasts soft against his chest, her voice in his ear as she urges him on, his groan mingling with hers as the heat rises between them, so fierce that he can feel it melting him, reshaping him, forging him into something entirely new.

Then Keith's breath catches in her throat at she pulls taut against him, head thrown back and eyes squeezed shut as she shakes, coming apart under him, around him. Her muscles ripple around his cock, wringing tight as she cries out. Shiro will never in his life see anything as amazing as she is in this moment. It snaps a thread of self-control he wasn't even aware of possessing; he fucks into her hard and fast, gasping her name as she rakes her nails over his shoulders and arches under him, coming again or maybe just still coming, all but sobbing his name. Pleasure coils tight in his gut, twisting tighter every time he slams home, and then it breaks as he comes again, bucking against her as his cock throbs and pulses and pleasure cuts through him, as sharp and sweet as the way Keith cries his name.

He collapses against her when it lets him go again, panting against her shoulder and dazed in the aftermath of a second mind-blowing orgasm in less than an hour. Keith moans against his ear, still shaking, subsiding more slowly, still trembling even after he catches his breath.

Shiro kisses the side of her throat, soft. "God, Keith. God." He raises his head to look at her; her hair is clinging to her temples and cheeks, wet with sweat, and her lashes are fluttering over her eyes as she pants for breath. His fingers shake as he cards them through her hair, stroking it back from her face. Then she opens her eyes and looks at him, soft and—and—

In less than forty-eight hours, he's going to have to leave her, somehow. Shiro doesn't know whether he's strong enough to do that when she's looking at him like that, sweet and unguarded and giving away more than she realizes.

He swallows hard against that and kisses her. "Didn't disappoint you that time, did I?"

"No—" Keith has to stop and clear her throat when her voice cracks. "No. No disappointment this time. That was… yeah. That was good. Really good." Her gaze slides away from him, lands somewhere around his chin. "I… thought it would hurt. But it didn't."

It's one thing to have suspected, but it's another thing to know. Shiro clears his throat. "It doesn't have to. If you take it slow, make sure you're ready."

She jerks, face going red. "You knew?"

"I guessed." He tucks a lock of her hair behind her ear. "I wasn't sure, but… I would have wanted it to be good for you either way."

She sneaks a glance at him, still flushed pink, wearing that soft, wondering expression again. "It really was."

How in the hell is he going to walk away from this in one piece? He doesn't think he is. Isn't sure he wants to. "Glad to hear it." Shiro kisses her again and uses the need to deal with the condom as a chance to come to terms with—with everything. Nothing has really changed, is the thing. He's just not ignoring all the things he's gotten used to not thinking about. All the things he's known, or suspected, all along.

It's only going to be a year, anyway. He can handle this, too, once he gets used to the new normal.

Keith isn't going to make that an easy prospect, though she can't know that. She burrows against him the moment he has his hands free. It's only natural to wrap his arms around her again and tuck the top of her head under his chin.

She sighs. "We should've done this a while ago, huh?"

When he thinks of all the chances they've passed by, Shiro could kick himself. "Yeah, probably." He strokes his fingers through her hair, working the knots out of it. "We could try it again sometime after I get back, if you still want to by then."

"We're gonna do this again way the hell before that." Keith pulls back to look at him, grinning. "I've got you till, what, tomorrow afternoon, right? We can fit at least a couple more rounds in before then."

It's such a quintessentially Keith response that Shiro laughs, helpless to do otherwise. "That's true."

"Yeah." Keith sets her teeth against her lower lip. "And when you get back, too, of course."

"Only if you still want to by then." God knows he doesn't want her to—to wait for him and pass up any possibilities doing it. (That's a lie; he does want that, though it's not at all fair to Keith.)

He's going to miss the way Keith has of looking at him like she thinks he's crazy. "Yeah, no chance of me not wanting that." She grins. "And I'm thinking you're not gonna change your mind, either. Not like you're going to be meeting any hot alien princesses out there, right?"

"Even Commander Holt isn't hoping for anything bigger than microbes, so yeah, probably not." Shiro purses his lips. "I guess there is always Matt, though…" Keith snorts, and he laughs. "Yeah, no, I guess not." He touches the curve of her cheek. "Guess I'll just have to hope you don't meet someone else who turns your head while I'm gone, huh?"

"You don't have to hope for that." Keith brushes her lips across his fingers. "I'm not gonna be changing my mind, no matter what happens."

"Then I won't either," Shiro says and leans in to kiss her to seal the promise.

end

(Later, when he's watching his first Terran sunrise in over eighteen months, Shiro finds out that Keith really hasn't changed her mind. And even though it's not at all fair to her, in spite everything that has changed—his arm, his face, even his goddamned hair—he hasn't changed his mind either, and that is enough to make all the other changes bearable.)

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