[ he's quickly coming to find that keith doesn't do anything in increments. it's what makes a kiss like this so terrifying, how keith gives himself up to it in a headlong stride, mindless and worriless, with everything he has to offer in a single heart-stopping instant.
he could almost shy away from it. or maybe he's overwhelmed already with his hair prickling beneath keith's solid hand, or his heartbeat thudding in line with keith's matching, rapid pulse. or maybe it's keith climbing into his lap without a second thought, settling there until his fingers hook thoughtlessly into his belt.
it wouldn't have been a problem, if keith hadn't said his name just so, if he wasn't wearing a look he's never worn before, in his bed, in his lap, wearing his clothes that are several sizes too big for the bared stretch of his throat and collar.
as it is right now -- it's a pretty big problem. ]
I --
[ it comes out rough, kiss-worn and husky when he's breathless, when his hands have settled along the slant of keith's waist. he should stop before it gets worse, before he sounds any more like an idiot, and now he's rubbing his thumbs along the curve of his hip bone - ]
[ it takes a moment just to reel for breath. there's stars spinning dizzy at the back of his skull, the taste of shiro's mouth still clinging to his tongue -- and he hasn't pulled away enough not to register the click of work in his teeth, close enough to lean in and taste.
fact after fact -- it wasn't a great kiss; in the lull, his lips sting with the dull throb of bruising. not a single beat pulls him away, lightens his weight where he's braced himself, a knee by shiro's hip -- stops him from shifting a little into the unsteady drag of fingers on his skin. ]
[ that's -- a rather silly reaction to get hot under the collar about.
but it's probably bad form to push keith away before it gets any worse... even if the weight's starting to feel like it's becoming more and more like a valid emergency. but he's overheated, and keith's starry-eyed in the proximity. at least when he's pressing their foreheads together, the view's slightly blurred.
[ weird words to bring him back to himself, his ink-stark pupils thinning back by degrees as his grip slides and tightens over a shoulder, as the whisper presses between them. ]
[ it'd be a lot easier if keith decided to just up and do it.
but they're comfortable now -- or maybe more comfortable than they've never been. keith looks good like this, his face getting familiarly red, and his body kept close.
none of it feels like something he's had before. ]
[ a sound that seems to come hooked out of his lungs as his grip grinds bone, as his whole frame stiffens -- and sways, arches just a little into the touch. he's flushed, half on warmth and half on disbelief -- that even if this is nothing familiar, it still feels good. ]
or the way keith squirms in his lap, reactive and tense and unwinding in an unlocking sort of sequence that he can feel every step of the way. it makes him go stock-still, his heartbeat racing. his gaze fixes on keith's bruise-shiny mouth, and he's trying very hard not to try to have keith make that sound again. ]
. . . just. Until the laundry's done.
[ that's an excuse. he's stalling at this point, peppering small kisses against keith's swollen mouth. the memories aren't coming, but no matter what he does, it still feels like he's wanted this for years. ]
I could try to make you another cup of coffee . . .
[ it's a series of hadn't-meants: he hadn't meant to tumble into shiro's lap, hadn't meant to wind up with his fingers clinging to a shoulder, hadn't meant to stay braced there as he presses back greedily into kiss after kiss, shallow quick flares of nothing but heat.
but hadn't meant to isn't slowing him down much. ]
. . . you sure your coffee machine'd even survive that?
[ it crooks his mouth a little despite the barb. it's probably not a good sign that keith gets really into it, that it's hard to get him to stop first.
but the worse sign is forgetting, at least for a moment, that he could trigger an explosive, and that he'd get keith caught up in it.
. . . ]
If you can't wait here, how about coming along with me?
[ . . . he should probably realize how exactly that sounds.
and how compromising this is, with keith still sat in his lap, and he's still bracing himself for the hug and the kiss and whatever that's going to come after, if he's not willing to say goodbye just yet.
instead, he's just blurting out whatever's in his head, and if they're all bad ideas, if keith finally tells him, stop, this isn't working, what are we even doing? then at least he has all of this warmth to remember him by. but for now, he forces his fingers open still, lifts them to cradle keith's face in his palms. he's still thinking about the boy in his dream, and maybe that's unfair, too, that he doesn't want to go because he made some promise to his imagination. ]
. . . at least until your clothes dry.
We can -- talk. [ yes, very natural, good job. as if he weren't nosing into the bare stretch of keith's throat and trying to catch his breath. ] While I make my rounds.
[ there should be warnings for this, a name for this -- how sensation keeps coming in a punch-drunk reel, all dizzy flares and static where shiro's breath slides across his skin. the hand that'd settled so gingerly on shiro's shoulder's flattened, steadied like he needs it for balance; the other's a more delicate frame against his ribs, fit to memorise the curve as he manages a blundering, breathless answer - ]
Yeah. All right.
[ it isn't that instinct's driven out thought -- shiro's company, asking him to lock himself into a company car with passengers who hardly need their rides advertised. shiro's a name more memory than anything real, a gut feeling and a bad idea.
and yet: a welling, willing shiver, his head tilting back by degrees as his fingers dig in blunt points and his thighs drag together, anchoring him in place. ]
. . . when - [ oh, silent and felt. ] when do you have to head out?
that's ridiculous, like it's a surprise when keith's the one who's just as greedy, putting his hands everywhere without thinking, shuddering into a slow cant, and pushing his legs against the mattress like he's completely unaware of how that must feel, with all of his weight grinding down against him.
it's probably true. ]
F-
[ it's unsteady, a hot rush of breath where his mouth's landed against keith's collar, his hand tangled in his hair, the other dropping to his nape.
he should push him off. especially when they've only got - ]
[ later, with distance, he'll find it bewildering: the urgency, the adrenaline rush, murmuring like lovers when he doesn't even know shiro, not really -- couldn't pin more to his name than the crinkle of his eyes, smiling, and the way his voice roughens with a chase.
but memory's got a heartbeat anchored at his fingertips, desperate to hold it fast and echo with its every beat. hard to think of anything past the next thud, the next, and - ]
You should go.
[ as a knee digs hard against the springs; his grip tightens, neither push nor pull, and his pulse hammers in his throat, hotter still beneath the open press of a mouth. ]
[ well, it doesn't feel like keith's telling him to go.
even if, in their defense, it really was just a test at first.
but it's hard not to feel like they're messing around -- like it's all in their heads because attraction shouldn't come this quickly, shouldn't feel like a sickness, trusting a stranger and wanting to protect him from every consequence.
most of all, he shouldn't be so riled up by a few clumsy kisses, by the rasp in his name, or the flutter of his pulse, or keith's legs closing astride his lap, and god. ]
[ the tic of a breath gone to rust in his lungs. he swallows it, lifts his head against the dizzying skim of an exhale. ]
Right.
[ and -- shoving back abruptly, which half-tumbles him, sends him reeling him back onto a hand before he finds his balance. his head jerks once, but the flush doesn't shake easily. ]
[ keith's always full of surprises -- and maybe a deceptive amount of strength is one of them.
still, it jars him for only the bare flicker of a moment more than it actually pushes him any amount of distance. he can still feel the weight of all of keith's gravity in the blinking second after, like a phantom limb when he's no longer clutching at him, holding nothing between his arms at all. the air cools with the draft blowing in through the wooden boards nailed over his window. the old room creaks in the silence, but his heart's thrumming loud inside of his skull.
. . . if I really need the joy, I'll find my own ride.
Most of those warrants're just . . . pointless. They're not really hiring Killjoys because they need them for the job. A kid with a tricycle could handle it.
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no subject
he could almost shy away from it. or maybe he's overwhelmed already with his hair prickling beneath keith's solid hand, or his heartbeat thudding in line with keith's matching, rapid pulse. or maybe it's keith climbing into his lap without a second thought, settling there until his fingers hook thoughtlessly into his belt.
it wouldn't have been a problem, if keith hadn't said his name just so, if he wasn't wearing a look he's never worn before, in his bed, in his lap, wearing his clothes that are several sizes too big for the bared stretch of his throat and collar.
as it is right now -- it's a pretty big problem. ]
I --
[ it comes out rough, kiss-worn and husky when he's breathless, when his hands have settled along the slant of keith's waist. he should stop before it gets worse, before he sounds any more like an idiot, and now he's rubbing his thumbs along the curve of his hip bone - ]
Work.
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[ it takes a moment just to reel for breath. there's stars spinning dizzy at the back of his skull, the taste of shiro's mouth still clinging to his tongue -- and he hasn't pulled away enough not to register the click of work in his teeth, close enough to lean in and taste.
fact after fact -- it wasn't a great kiss; in the lull, his lips sting with the dull throb of bruising. not a single beat pulls him away, lightens his weight where he's braced himself, a knee by shiro's hip -- stops him from shifting a little into the unsteady drag of fingers on his skin. ]
What. . . ?
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but it's probably bad form to push keith away before it gets any worse... even if the weight's starting to feel like it's becoming more and more like a valid emergency. but he's overheated, and keith's starry-eyed in the proximity. at least when he's pressing their foreheads together, the view's slightly blurred.
uh, huh. what an understatement. ]
. . . I'm gonna be late for my shift.
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[ weird words to bring him back to himself, his ink-stark pupils thinning back by degrees as his grip slides and tightens over a shoulder, as the whisper presses between them. ]
I guess -- I should get out of here.
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but they're comfortable now -- or maybe more comfortable than they've never been. keith looks good like this, his face getting familiarly red, and his body kept close.
none of it feels like something he's had before. ]
I think your clothes are still in the wash.
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looks down at the slipping collar, the drawstring shorts. ]
Do you want these back -- right now?
[ why would anyone want them back ever. ]
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[ it's murmured in a low voice, a little guilty. he's still got his hands over keith's waist, running up his ribs and higher - ]
Could you stay?
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[ a sound that seems to come hooked out of his lungs as his grip grinds bone, as his whole frame stiffens -- and sways, arches just a little into the touch. he's flushed, half on warmth and half on disbelief -- that even if this is nothing familiar, it still feels good. ]
You said you were heading out to work.
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or the way keith squirms in his lap, reactive and tense and unwinding in an unlocking sort of sequence that he can feel every step of the way. it makes him go stock-still, his heartbeat racing. his gaze fixes on keith's bruise-shiny mouth, and he's trying very hard not to try to have keith make that sound again. ]
. . . just. Until the laundry's done.
[ that's an excuse. he's stalling at this point, peppering small kisses against keith's swollen mouth. the memories aren't coming, but no matter what he does, it still feels like he's wanted this for years. ]
I could try to make you another cup of coffee . . .
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but hadn't meant to isn't slowing him down much. ]
. . . you sure your coffee machine'd even survive that?
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[ it crooks his mouth a little despite the barb. it's probably not a good sign that keith gets really into it, that it's hard to get him to stop first.
but the worse sign is forgetting, at least for a moment, that he could trigger an explosive, and that he'd get keith caught up in it.
. . . ]
If you can't wait here, how about coming along with me?
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Where?
[ wait. he's thinking, thoughts flickering like wingbeats even as he leans into shiro's splaying hands, a kiss cut just short. ]
The car? . . . can you do that?
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[ . . . he should probably realize how exactly that sounds.
and how compromising this is, with keith still sat in his lap, and he's still bracing himself for the hug and the kiss and whatever that's going to come after, if he's not willing to say goodbye just yet.
instead, he's just blurting out whatever's in his head, and if they're all bad ideas, if keith finally tells him, stop, this isn't working, what are we even doing? then at least he has all of this warmth to remember him by. but for now, he forces his fingers open still, lifts them to cradle keith's face in his palms. he's still thinking about the boy in his dream, and maybe that's unfair, too, that he doesn't want to go because he made some promise to his imagination. ]
. . . at least until your clothes dry.
We can -- talk. [ yes, very natural, good job. as if he weren't nosing into the bare stretch of keith's throat and trying to catch his breath. ] While I make my rounds.
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Yeah. All right.
[ it isn't that instinct's driven out thought -- shiro's company, asking him to lock himself into a company car with passengers who hardly need their rides advertised. shiro's a name more memory than anything real, a gut feeling and a bad idea.
and yet: a welling, willing shiver, his head tilting back by degrees as his fingers dig in blunt points and his thighs drag together, anchoring him in place. ]
. . . when - [ oh, silent and felt. ] when do you have to head out?
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that's ridiculous, like it's a surprise when keith's the one who's just as greedy, putting his hands everywhere without thinking, shuddering into a slow cant, and pushing his legs against the mattress like he's completely unaware of how that must feel, with all of his weight grinding down against him.
it's probably true. ]
F-
[ it's unsteady, a hot rush of breath where his mouth's landed against keith's collar, his hand tangled in his hair, the other dropping to his nape.
he should push him off. especially when they've only got - ]
Five minutes.
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but memory's got a heartbeat anchored at his fingertips, desperate to hold it fast and echo with its every beat. hard to think of anything past the next thud, the next, and - ]
You should go.
[ as a knee digs hard against the springs; his grip tightens, neither push nor pull, and his pulse hammers in his throat, hotter still beneath the open press of a mouth. ]
Shiro.
[ reminder and warning both. ]
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even if, in their defense, it really was just a test at first.
but it's hard not to feel like they're messing around -- like it's all in their heads because attraction shouldn't come this quickly, shouldn't feel like a sickness, trusting a stranger and wanting to protect him from every consequence.
most of all, he shouldn't be so riled up by a few clumsy kisses, by the rasp in his name, or the flutter of his pulse, or keith's legs closing astride his lap, and god. ]
You should -- probably get off, first.
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Oh.
[ the tic of a breath gone to rust in his lungs. he swallows it, lifts his head against the dizzying skim of an exhale. ]
Right.
[ and -- shoving back abruptly, which half-tumbles him, sends him reeling him back onto a hand before he finds his balance. his head jerks once, but the flush doesn't shake easily. ]
There -- I'm off.
[ a helpful psa. ]
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still, it jars him for only the bare flicker of a moment more than it actually pushes him any amount of distance. he can still feel the weight of all of keith's gravity in the blinking second after, like a phantom limb when he's no longer clutching at him, holding nothing between his arms at all. the air cools with the draft blowing in through the wooden boards nailed over his window. the old room creaks in the silence, but his heart's thrumming loud inside of his skull.
there's really no recovering after all of that. ]
. . . have you picked up another client?
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he's staring again. his eyes jerk down to the sheets. ]
Not yet. Most of the warrants this month're deliveries.
. . . I'll see what they've got next week.
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tell the boy that he can stay as long as he'd like.
have him help himself to whatever's in the fridge. apologize for the wait with the laundry, and thank him kindly for his time.
whatever you do, do not - ]
I meant what I said before . . . about giving you a ride.
I could help you make some deliveries.
[ -- invite him into an enclosed space after attempting to eat his face. ]
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But I can at least get you past the gates, if you're needing to get somewhere.
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Most of those warrants're just . . . pointless. They're not really hiring Killjoys because they need them for the job. A kid with a tricycle could handle it.
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Then what made you decide to become an agent?
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