( his fingers ease in with lance's easily, apologetically -- sharing a mind link isn't much fun when it comes down to it, being inside someone's head isn't that great when their head is all insecurities and deep, dark thoughts -- though whether he's talking about himself, or lance, or even shiro is debatable, impossible to discover. there are no clear beginnings or ends between them, conjoined at the hand and mouths at cocks and lips at necks and no conclusions, just running in circles that keep twisting and twirling. if he focuses, he can probably become aware of who he's touching and where -- but with all their thoughts and lingering emotions towards each other all ripe and there for the plucking, he can't tell -- if he reaches for one memory, will it still be his? or is he grabbing at lance's, all blue-twinged and watery?
he grabs at another one, fiery red, pushing it into shiro -- it's one he has of lance, actually, one filtered in the heavenly sunbeams of artificial light and the barest pink twinge, while the two of them barely rise from their conjoint under the covers of shiro's old bed, in shiro's old room, with shiro's old clothes and the scent of him still lingering in the barren corners of his room, the corners that they snuggle into and kiss each other in, where they fuck each other and keith falls asleep still buried inside lance, waking up to his voice saying dude, gross in the early hours of the morning. it's a good memory, littered across good memories -- the bad ones come in too, because keith can't filter them when he's so emotional around shiro, isolation, fear, guilt, loneliness, longing. what are his emotions and what are lance's? he honestly can't tell anymore. )
Damnit, ( he murmurs, resting his forehead down against shiro's shoulder. it's not exhausting as much as it is enlightening, facing all the emotions he does his solid best to conceal -- the obvious love he has for these two men and the guilt that comes along with that, one before and one while the other went missing. keith turns to rest his back more or less against shiro, enjoying the breathable air -- moving his free hand down to stroke the base of his girth, the part lance's mouth can't reach. ) I'm Keith. I'm -- ( his breath catches. whatever he was going to say, it's clearly not what he eventually gets out. ) I'm gonna fuck him. If you want that.
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he grabs at another one, fiery red, pushing it into shiro -- it's one he has of lance, actually, one filtered in the heavenly sunbeams of artificial light and the barest pink twinge, while the two of them barely rise from their conjoint under the covers of shiro's old bed, in shiro's old room, with shiro's old clothes and the scent of him still lingering in the barren corners of his room, the corners that they snuggle into and kiss each other in, where they fuck each other and keith falls asleep still buried inside lance, waking up to his voice saying dude, gross in the early hours of the morning. it's a good memory, littered across good memories -- the bad ones come in too, because keith can't filter them when he's so emotional around shiro, isolation, fear, guilt, loneliness, longing. what are his emotions and what are lance's? he honestly can't tell anymore. )
Damnit, ( he murmurs, resting his forehead down against shiro's shoulder. it's not exhausting as much as it is enlightening, facing all the emotions he does his solid best to conceal -- the obvious love he has for these two men and the guilt that comes along with that, one before and one while the other went missing. keith turns to rest his back more or less against shiro, enjoying the breathable air -- moving his free hand down to stroke the base of his girth, the part lance's mouth can't reach. ) I'm Keith. I'm -- ( his breath catches. whatever he was going to say, it's clearly not what he eventually gets out. ) I'm gonna fuck him. If you want that.