dappered | (no subject)

[ the thing is, he's not mad at shiro. maybe he should be, but he's not, because he understands that going from ace pilot with promising space exploration career to prisoner of war to leader of a ten thousand year old resistance faction doesn't leave a lot of room for the smaller, interpersonal problems. pidge is the one with a real cause for a grudge, anyway, and shiro is so painfully, obviously, trying his best to be the leader they need. he doesn't deserve keith hunting him down in the middle of the night to talk about the fact that they had toed the fraternization line uncomfortably close during keith's academy days, and then he thought shiro was dead, and then he started getting weird fucking dreams about alien energies and maybe shiro not being dead, and then... everything else.

shiro is treating him like one of the guys and he understands why. it's easier that way. it's been years and they're both different people now, except keith still has those same dreams--not the ones that left him awake in the dark and sure that shiro was alive, sure that he was breathing somewhere, alone, needing, and so helpless that it hurt to breathe. no, these are the old academy standby, thinking of shiro leaning in close, shiro taking off his shirt for training, shiro finally turning around and seeing him looking. the kind of stupid fantasies that left him hard and wanting when he woke, frantically jerking off just so he could get up and function around shiro without popping wood.

(he still has the dreams about shiro being alone somewhere, every now and then. he gets up and paces down the hallways and brushes his hand over shiro's door, but he never hits the comm button. they have each other now, or something, he tells himself. the dreams are clearly some kind of influence from the lions, and they're all together now.)

anyway he has shiro back and there's still a fucking glass wall between them. no unnecessary touches. no late nights together in one of their rooms, even though all they had ever done was talk. it's frustrating as fuck and he gets it and he's trying really hard to be fucking understanding, trying not to push. allura had said that they might notice some influences from the lions, now that they'd all established a bond, that they might be more sensitive to each other, but keith doesn't feel sensitive so much as scraped raw, holding everything back. he wants to hit something all the time. he snaps at lance and flings himself into battle when he has the chance and he thinks sometimes he can feel shiro through that link they're all supposed to have, that hint of quiet strength coupled with some sort of strapped down emotion-- loneliness? pain? --but then it's gone and he's left wondering whether he imagined it in the first place.

they'd been encouraged to go and spend time with their lions to strengthen their mystic bonds or whatever, but here keith is guiltily fucking sneaking around the wrong hangar, running his hand carefully over the black lion's sleek metal skin. that tiny little place in the back of his head where his weird impulses and gut feelings come from isn't telling him that he's unwelcome, but he knows that this is kind of suspicious. ]

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( 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.

[ there. even though he’s not as sensitive as keith to the whole mystic mental bond thing he can feel when shiro’s resistance starts to lessen, when he starts to believe and let them in.. it’s terrifying to think about what the galra must’ve been doing to him in the last six months that he’d learned to put up psychic shields. he’s caught along in the undertow of the images that keith is projecting, reliving them himself, and he squirms uncomfortably at being laid open so completely. they don’t need to show shiro memories of lance and keith together after shiro’s disappearance and how awful everything had been, how they’d clung together because it was that or shatter. they should be concentrating on reminding shiro who he was-- who he is-- under the galra brainwashing or amnesia or whatever. but it’s true that there isn’t a filter, keith is apparently the most emotional person lance has ever met underneath that veneer of cool disinterest and he can’t help what he projects. he loves shiro to a depth that’s. honestly kind of frightening. he loves shiro enough to have made lance love him too, secondhand, and sometimes that bothers him a lot and sometimes it doesn’t bother him at all, because shiro is worth loving.

he squeezes keith’s fingers back once. they’re partners now too, in the way that lance used to be jealous of with keith and shiro. apparently all it takes to get that kind of rapport is to have a lot of shitty things happen to you.

he pulls off shiro’s ridiculous alien cock reluctantly, long enough to kiss his stomach and look up at him as sincerely as he can after just having been sucking dick. this really isn’t the big rescue scene he’d pictured, but obviously nobody is going anywhere until shiro remembers their names and will consent to let them kidnap him. ]

Come on, Shiro, I know you remember us. You have to remember something before the Galra-- [ he hesitates, and then presses on doggedly. ]

You have to remember Keith, right?

[ maaaaaybe not. the exact circumstance of keith fucking him but whatever what does lance know about psychic bonds and how to restore them. ]

[ It's always been overwhelming to have someone poking around in his head; it's been invasive, terrifying. Zarkon and Haggar don't bother to be kind about it; kindness is a weakness, and weakness will get you killed. Shiro's always been able to stand it where he can; either he got stronger and dealt with it, or he suffered for his weakness. That was the Galra way, he was told, and for someone not Galra, he did a very good job of fighting through it.

Keith isn't like that, though. He's not forcing his way through the cracks and barriers, trying to shove things into his head or take it out. It's easier than that, Keith downright gentle as he pushes the memories at Shiro for him to sort through. Memories of Lance and Keith together, but it's not their room. He has to pause to take it in, swallowing hard when he recognizes items without really knowing how. That's my bed- he thinks, and feels his stomach twist and flip in response. This is all wrong; it's not his bed, his bed is on the Galra cruiser.

Sucking in a tight breath, Shiro tips his head back, tries to put up the wall again, tries to shove them out but he can't. Keith's presence is like a set of hooks in his mind, holding tight, not letting go until he gets his way. Shiro can't fight it despite how badly he wants to.

Worse - or maybe better, he doesn't know, he can feel Lance there, too. The soft blue overlaying Keith's harsh red in his mind, halves of a whole that Shiro knows down to his bones even though he shouldn't.

Who are you is a mostly rhetorical question. They've told him who they are, he knows their names, but the fact that they were someone to him is too much to take. Attachments are weakness and weakness is weeded out. They're right; he can't let the Galra know that there's anything here, even if it's not real. Whether or not they're lying, it's a Galra test, they're simply a trick, Shiro doesn't know but there's this awful part of himself that screams at the idea of letting the Galra know, about turning them in. You have to keep them safe, it says, though he's clearly done a shit job of it so far.

Shaking his head, he drops his hands down to Lance's and curls a hand through his hair, tugging him up so his lips press against the fat swell of Shiro's cock, where Keith's fingers rest. A shudder goes through him; it's different than his own hand, it actually feels good, better than his time with the Galra. ]

You should fuck him.

[ He steamrolls right past Lance's demands, thumbing idly over his bottom lip, shiny with spit and precome from mouthing over Shiro's dick. The comment is directed at Keith, though his eyes slide down and focus on Lance, eyes dark, hair mussed from Shiro's hands. ]

Come here.

[ He wants to say he's taking control of the situation like he has to; the Galra answer. He wants to say that he's not letting this get to his head, that he's dedicated to the Galra empire and all it means but it's not that easy. Lance isn't as familiar in this, but that doesn't matter. He remembers Keith, both of them on their knees in front of each other, kissing and touching aimlessly, simply for the sake and appreciation of doing it. He remembers Lance, oddly quiet, coming to just sit with him after a particularly hard mission, remembers wrapping an arm around him and hugging him. All of these softer, quiet moments start flooding him from out of nowhere, like a crack in a dam that's suddenly split wider.

Shuddering, he holds onto Lance tighter, anchoring himself and then he looks at Keith and feels his heart jerk in his chest.

It's supposed to be a demand to get out of Shiro's head with this, to stop overwhelming him with it - it sounds more like a wrenched out plea, his throat tight. ]

You have to stop.