[ if shiro looks like any kind of statue it's because the galra have shaped him this way, made his shoulders broader and his muscles more defined. he knows they had to have altered his bones, too, to take the new weight and stresses of this form. it still feels wrong to him how much stronger he is, how much faster his reflexes are, although it's a scary thought because he doesn't know how much of that is what the druids have done to him and how much is because of what he's done in the arena.
matt's changes might be frightening, too, having been altered for such an obvious, specific purpose, but all shiro can be is grateful that it might keep matt safe just a little longer. that the galra might consider him valuable, however awful the thought is.
or maybe it's that shiro can't help imagining what it would be like if matt was given to him. he could protect him. he could have him nearby, know exactly where he was. there's enough stallion instinct in him to want that desperately and unashamedly. he would like to keep matt for himself.
and the noises matt's making aren't helping, the expression on his face, the scent of him, aroused and waiting. shiro makes a strangled noise of his own and buries his face against matt's chest, his mouth seeking, nuzzling and nipping over the curve of matt's breast. he tells himself that this, at least, is something a human might do, something humans do for each other. ]
T-tell me. What you like, [ he manages, finding it hard to shape words with his animal instincts clamoring at him. ]
[There's a soft gasp, shaky and needy, Matt's nails blunt against the back of Shiro's neck, clutching him closer.] I-I like that.
[Then, arching his back a little, pushing forward into the soft, wet heat of Shiro's mouth, knees buckling, he manages:] I don't...really know what...what else. I. Show me. Show me what you know.
[ jesus. what he knows is the aggressive, dominating practices in the stud boxes, rearing up to mount something soft and yielding and churning his hips like a machine, hearing himself grunting and snorting, unable to see or even really touch his partner. he's been brutal in the past, too, rutting as hard and as fast as any animal. it was what was expected. his memories of Before seem hazy now, like the time before the occupation was just a dream. kissing someone in a dark theater, or asking them in for 'coffee' after a night out, or sneaking into a broom closet for five minutes of privacy all feel as foreign to him now as everything he'd learned under the Galra.
the only thing he can think of is to do the opposite, to deny the stallion instinct to get on with it and draw this out instead. the galra don't kiss. they don't believe in delayed gratification unless it's to be malicious about it, taunting and teasing someone to the point of frantic need. they don't believe in taking care of their partners, only chasing their own please.
so he slows down. he suckles at matt's nipples, rubbing them with calloused fingers until they're swollen and sensitive. he kisses around them, tasting matt's skin, nuzzling up to the column of his throat, and he flattens his palm down matt's soft stomach, slow enough to give him warning, before sliding between his legs to cup him there. ]
[By the time Shiro's hand slips down, warm and roughened and gentle, Matt's head is heavy with blind, instinctive wanting. His heartbeat is throbbing where he's so sensitive it hurts -- sore on his chest, thick and slippery between his legs, pulsing under Shiro's lips against his neck. The fingers curling between his slick thighs makes him wobble forward, knees buckling a little from the urge to drop down, present himself, offer himself up to the stallion.
Shiro. It's Shiro, he's huge and beautiful and dizzying, but he's still Shiro. Matt's hands are trembling, but they find the ridges of muscle, Shiro's abdomen and chest, cross-crossed with scars. He strokes over them, with a sort of reverent awe, arching his back and pressing closer.]
[ he curls an arm around the small of matt's back to support him when he wobbles. he's-- well, he's wet under shiro's hand like a girl, like a furiously aroused girl, and even though shiro's been with plenty of breeders and knows that they've been altered to generously produce lubrication for mating, regardless of anything the stud did, it still feels like this is for shiro, that he'd inspired this level of wanting in matt.
it makes a difference. the way matt touches him in return makes him shiver, muscles bunching and relaxing under his fingers. it's not the way other handlers have touched him, taunting or mechanically moving him to arousal. he can smell matt's eagerness, and how compatible they are. ]
You... you do too.
[ he smells amazing, actually, the more aroused he is. shiro's fingers rub over him carefully, learning the new territory, and he thumbs over matt's clit once or twice before realizing what he's actually touching, glancing down in surprise. ]
[By the time Shiro actually glances down, Matt's mind is hazy, cohesive thought replaced by base, wordless urges, instincts to submit, to offer himself however Shiro wants him, against the wall, on his hands and knees, anywhere, anyway, anytime. He hurts with emptiness, and even the slight hesitation when Shiro realizes where his hands are is unbearable.
Bossier than he means to be, Matt pins his ears back, whines in impatience and, one hand darting down to cover Shiro's, presses his fingers closer through the slick, thighs squeezing around his hand.]
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matt's changes might be frightening, too, having been altered for such an obvious, specific purpose, but all shiro can be is grateful that it might keep matt safe just a little longer. that the galra might consider him valuable, however awful the thought is.
or maybe it's that shiro can't help imagining what it would be like if matt was given to him. he could protect him. he could have him nearby, know exactly where he was. there's enough stallion instinct in him to want that desperately and unashamedly. he would like to keep matt for himself.
and the noises matt's making aren't helping, the expression on his face, the scent of him, aroused and waiting. shiro makes a strangled noise of his own and buries his face against matt's chest, his mouth seeking, nuzzling and nipping over the curve of matt's breast. he tells himself that this, at least, is something a human might do, something humans do for each other. ]
T-tell me. What you like, [ he manages, finding it hard to shape words with his animal instincts clamoring at him. ]
Don't let me-- rush.
no subject
[Then, arching his back a little, pushing forward into the soft, wet heat of Shiro's mouth, knees buckling, he manages:] I don't...really know what...what else. I. Show me. Show me what you know.
no subject
the only thing he can think of is to do the opposite, to deny the stallion instinct to get on with it and draw this out instead. the galra don't kiss. they don't believe in delayed gratification unless it's to be malicious about it, taunting and teasing someone to the point of frantic need. they don't believe in taking care of their partners, only chasing their own please.
so he slows down. he suckles at matt's nipples, rubbing them with calloused fingers until they're swollen and sensitive. he kisses around them, tasting matt's skin, nuzzling up to the column of his throat, and he flattens his palm down matt's soft stomach, slow enough to give him warning, before sliding between his legs to cup him there. ]
no subject
Shiro. It's Shiro, he's huge and beautiful and dizzying, but he's still Shiro. Matt's hands are trembling, but they find the ridges of muscle, Shiro's abdomen and chest, cross-crossed with scars. He strokes over them, with a sort of reverent awe, arching his back and pressing closer.]
You smell so good...
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it makes a difference. the way matt touches him in return makes him shiver, muscles bunching and relaxing under his fingers. it's not the way other handlers have touched him, taunting or mechanically moving him to arousal. he can smell matt's eagerness, and how compatible they are. ]
You... you do too.
[ he smells amazing, actually, the more aroused he is. shiro's fingers rub over him carefully, learning the new territory, and he thumbs over matt's clit once or twice before realizing what he's actually touching, glancing down in surprise. ]
Oh... oh.
no subject
Bossier than he means to be, Matt pins his ears back, whines in impatience and, one hand darting down to cover Shiro's, presses his fingers closer through the slick, thighs squeezing around his hand.]
Don't stop.