[ Shiro doesn't bother hiding his low, warm rumble of a laugh when Lance says that, still terribly pleased with himself as he takes care of what needs done. When he comes back, he doesn't miss that the room has been tidied a little bit and he's grateful for it. It still smells like a mix of the two of them, the musk of a heat and the sharpness of a rut mixed together.
Distantly, he notes the supplies brought over, but the mix of heat/rut is still overwhelming enough that he doesn't really care; he's not hungry, he's barely thirsty right now. Brushing his teeth and downing a little water took care of most of the issue.
More important than anything else in his mind right now, is getting Lance back as close as he can again, kissing him until his lips tingle and he's panting softly, licking into his mouth, alternating slow and filthy kisses with harder ones, pushing Lance down into the bed and grinding his hips against him. It's good enough to get off like this, he's sure, but he wants -- he wants. Wants something in him, wants to be inside Lance. He can feel the slickness against the insides of Lance's thighs where he's got them hitched around Shiro's waist.
It'd be so easy to just reach a hand down, to angle his dick and push into him, rock until he gets off and knot him, his instincts demanding it. That's not how he wants to play this, though, so he doesn't. He draws back to catch breath instead and keeps to the slow, gentle rolls of their hips together, cocks slipping wetly while he leaves a ring of bruises against the tan skin of Lance's throat, nosing at his pulse, the scent so comforting he just wants to roll around in it. ]
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Distantly, he notes the supplies brought over, but the mix of heat/rut is still overwhelming enough that he doesn't really care; he's not hungry, he's barely thirsty right now. Brushing his teeth and downing a little water took care of most of the issue.
More important than anything else in his mind right now, is getting Lance back as close as he can again, kissing him until his lips tingle and he's panting softly, licking into his mouth, alternating slow and filthy kisses with harder ones, pushing Lance down into the bed and grinding his hips against him. It's good enough to get off like this, he's sure, but he wants -- he wants. Wants something in him, wants to be inside Lance. He can feel the slickness against the insides of Lance's thighs where he's got them hitched around Shiro's waist.
It'd be so easy to just reach a hand down, to angle his dick and push into him, rock until he gets off and knot him, his instincts demanding it. That's not how he wants to play this, though, so he doesn't. He draws back to catch breath instead and keeps to the slow, gentle rolls of their hips together, cocks slipping wetly while he leaves a ring of bruises against the tan skin of Lance's throat, nosing at his pulse, the scent so comforting he just wants to roll around in it. ]
Are you alright?