it's one moment -- a flicker-flash -- a star of a heartbeat that prisms and shatters, blue-blue-blue, light slung in a thousand directions before every ray spins together again. here you are with a torso caught between your knees in the dark, wrists and fists tumbled to either side of his head, ground grating white beneath knuckles and fingertips, a heaving breath that you grind down with a laugh still caught in your lungs and sweat a long gleam down your spine. he's still fighting it, fingers banded along your arm as his heels scrape leverage through the dust and his hips twist against you -- but he's laughing too, and the thrum goes singing to your bones with the adrenaline of a good fight.
one heartbeat. one second, one sliver of a night and its thousand-thousand refractions: the broad sling of his shoulders with his fists pulled up, his gaze flashing down as you snapped a kick at his kneecaps, drove in swinging. dust smearing down your spine as you rolled. circles after circle, pacing in silence. static twisting beneath your ribs, nameless and bright. a bigger opponent means you aim for the weak points: throat, stomach, knees. unless you can hold him down, you lose the second he touches you. but you know him -- know how he moves: in strides, not springs. careful before he's ever showy. salt on your tongue, the way it must taste on his. a new bruise clouding the thick of your right shoulder, pulse after bright pulse, dizzy-swarming-blue-green-blue before it clears. the faint half-smile he'd cracked, one moment -- the last -- before you lunged and toppled him.
he'd have gone easy on you if you gave him the chance. he always does, sure as newton's first law. the trick is not to let him.
but that was heartbeats back -- and your pulse is pounding still as you brace a hand above his head, pin the other arm with your knees rooted at either side. you won this, and he knows it: frame settling beneath your hand, his mouth a too-sharp set as your shadow sweeps over his darkening, starless eyes, as you bow your head -- thighs bracketing his ribs, breathing the faint rime of salt -- as you lean in to tell him --
"got you."
happy. that's what this is: your mouth's curl irresistible, electricity prickling up your spine in a dull scorched trail, the way it feels to twist instinct into practice and feel him thud and give way beneath you. here and now, newton's third law spinning light out of violence, surer than anything you've ever known: you're right where you're supposed to be. ]
he's broader maybe, taller and made of more muscle than you are, but you can outrun him. you've daydreamed of all the different ways to take him down. it's not really a question of how, because he's told you. he's taught you before, and maybe there's both pride and regret in his smile the first time you actually land a blow.
but that's a memory that's neither here nor there.
it's not a move that he expects in any case. it's getting harder to breathe with keith's thighs closing hard around his rib cage, but he manages, his chest rising and falling rapidly with his every inhale-exhale, with his struggling, helpless laughter. he's giddy. his heartbeat's going a mile a minute, adrenaline flushing hot in his bloodstream, and maybe he feels a little guilty that he even thought about pulling his punches, about tipping his weight to the side just as keith surged against him.
but he's on his back -- fair and square. ]
You got me.
[ it's naturally winded, but no less proud. or immensely pleased. ]
[ the moment settles, but his lungs haven't caught up to it; he gulps for air, grinds the heel of a hand against the dust -- and leans over shiro just a little. you have to take your advantages where you can. ]
Just saw a chance, I guess. [ and then, on another wry breath - ] You left that one open for me.
there's a look to keith in the moment, all of his jagged edges shining under a sheen of exertion, his hair a damp mess. for all that keith doesn't smile very often, it's always impossible to hide his unabashed grins when they're toothy in the training room's bright lights.
pride. and a bit of shock, too, for toppling over at all. it's a rush of a feeling that he can't quite put a name to, that reminds him too much of - ]
[ somewhere behind them, past the pale arched doorway, there's a thundercloud's worth of complications. a war, steel-hard lions quiet in their hangars, star after star darkened under the shadows of a galra fleet. but shiro's steady between his knees -- and maybe it's a little bit of a relief to feel just this: a moment like the crack of a punch, iron on his tongue, the impact of striking shore with his pulse crackling beneath his ribs and a familiar smile that he can't help answering.
something just this simple. ]
Does that mean you want best out of three?
[ he's still tense -- he has to be. but his mouth's crooked, hair swaying with the bow of his head, and he's in no hurry to pull away. ]
I figured you might just wanna stay down there all day.
[ and that's laughter, too. here, there's no outside world to worry about, no plague of monsters, or soldiers that show up in his nightmares, that he rips to shreds with a right arm that doesn't belong to him. he knows it's selfish -- but he doesn't know what good or bad he's done to deserve the answering crook of keith's smile, the feeling that races through his bloodstream like he's taking flight.
i've got you, buddy. there's copper in his mouth, a bruise on his rib cage, but he's never been happier.
his hand's trailing up keith's arm, fingers curling into his shoulder, but keith's stance is solid. ]
[ he doesn't have to answer, not yet. shoulders still leaves one arm free -- means it's an easy thing to roll his shoulder for the fleeting unsteady moment he needs to fist his hand in shiro's shirt and haul him down the rest of the way. a leg slings over shiro's calf, tangling, and then he's pushing off the ground to roll him right back over in a tumult.
[ that's a good sound, bright in his eyes -- the swoop of his name like adrenaline. he's quicker this time to settle with his knees riding up against shiro's ribs, ready to wrap them tight for leverage if the momentum turns against him.
keith isn't exactly heavy. far from it, when he can throw him easy, when pinning him down isn't a hard thing to do. but it's different today. keith has the momentum, the focus -- and maybe he's really charging after the prize, but - ]
You're really -- determined, aren't you.
[ but keith's straddling his stomach, and that's making it pretty hard to laugh. his hands fit along the slant of keith's waist, and maybe he's investing a lot of strength just to tug keith's thighs into loosening up, but that's a price he must pay to breathe. ]
[ which begs for a brief, ridiculous moment where his thighs are straining beneath shiro's grip -- before he plants a hand just above shiro's shoulder, leaning over him. ]
I'm definitely not gonna get any better if you keep holding back, Shiro.
[ it makes him laugh, reeling a little with the breathless moment.
he can feel the jump of keith's muscle, the rhythm of his breathing, the tension in his hand as he doggedly pins his body down. it's probably not a good sign that the goad hits home, that he wouldn't mind seeing what else keith can do, that he wants more of everything. well, maybe it's just the adrenaline talking.
whatever it is, by reflex or otherwise, his grip roughens a little, and he finds that he wants more of that, too. ]
[ actually, with keith this tense and this wrapped around him -- it hardly takes any effort at all.
because by the time he's heaving forward, he's still got keith strung about him from the waist up, and it doesn't take much besides the initial, awkward stumble to push them upright.
keith probably expected a pin.
and probably not to be carried, with shiro's arm braced underneath him, and the other slung along his back. ]
[ except all of their rolling around's gotten them both off the mat. but he's not pushing it -- keith's gotten a leg down by the time they've reached the padding.
which means it's pretty easy to topple him right back over, until he's got an arm across his torso holding him back against the floor. ]
even if the placement of keith's legs has probably shifted just enough to get them flush together. but you know what! focus on the real task at hand can provide a potent distraction. ]
but keith's paying some attention, anyway -- sprawling back means that he's got both hands free to wrap tight around shiro's arm where it's locked him against the mat, pushing and shoving as his hips twist to force him off-balance.
basically: this is a whole lot of outraged squirming. ]
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w7d3, night
it's one moment -- a flicker-flash -- a star of a heartbeat that prisms and shatters, blue-blue-blue, light slung in a thousand directions before every ray spins together again. here you are with a torso caught between your knees in the dark, wrists and fists tumbled to either side of his head, ground grating white beneath knuckles and fingertips, a heaving breath that you grind down with a laugh still caught in your lungs and sweat a long gleam down your spine. he's still fighting it, fingers banded along your arm as his heels scrape leverage through the dust and his hips twist against you -- but he's laughing too, and the thrum goes singing to your bones with the adrenaline of a good fight.
one heartbeat. one second, one sliver of a night and its thousand-thousand refractions: the broad sling of his shoulders with his fists pulled up, his gaze flashing down as you snapped a kick at his kneecaps, drove in swinging. dust smearing down your spine as you rolled. circles after circle, pacing in silence. static twisting beneath your ribs, nameless and bright. a bigger opponent means you aim for the weak points: throat, stomach, knees. unless you can hold him down, you lose the second he touches you. but you know him -- know how he moves: in strides, not springs. careful before he's ever showy. salt on your tongue, the way it must taste on his. a new bruise clouding the thick of your right shoulder, pulse after bright pulse, dizzy-swarming-blue-green-blue before it clears. the faint half-smile he'd cracked, one moment -- the last -- before you lunged and toppled him.
he'd have gone easy on you if you gave him the chance. he always does, sure as newton's first law. the trick is not to let him.
but that was heartbeats back -- and your pulse is pounding still as you brace a hand above his head, pin the other arm with your knees rooted at either side. you won this, and he knows it: frame settling beneath your hand, his mouth a too-sharp set as your shadow sweeps over his darkening, starless eyes, as you bow your head -- thighs bracketing his ribs, breathing the faint rime of salt -- as you lean in to tell him --
"got you."
happy. that's what this is: your mouth's curl irresistible, electricity prickling up your spine in a dull scorched trail, the way it feels to twist instinct into practice and feel him thud and give way beneath you. here and now, newton's third law spinning light out of violence, surer than anything you've ever known: you're right where you're supposed to be. ]
no subject
he's broader maybe, taller and made of more muscle than you are, but you can outrun him. you've daydreamed of all the different ways to take him down. it's not really a question of how, because he's told you. he's taught you before, and maybe there's both pride and regret in his smile the first time you actually land a blow.
but that's a memory that's neither here nor there.
it's not a move that he expects in any case. it's getting harder to breathe with keith's thighs closing hard around his rib cage, but he manages, his chest rising and falling rapidly with his every inhale-exhale, with his struggling, helpless laughter. he's giddy. his heartbeat's going a mile a minute, adrenaline flushing hot in his bloodstream, and maybe he feels a little guilty that he even thought about pulling his punches, about tipping his weight to the side just as keith surged against him.
but he's on his back -- fair and square. ]
You got me.
[ it's naturally winded, but no less proud. or immensely pleased. ]
Who taught you that one?
no subject
[ the moment settles, but his lungs haven't caught up to it; he gulps for air, grinds the heel of a hand against the dust -- and leans over shiro just a little. you have to take your advantages where you can. ]
Just saw a chance, I guess. [ and then, on another wry breath - ] You left that one open for me.
no subject
there's a look to keith in the moment, all of his jagged edges shining under a sheen of exertion, his hair a damp mess. for all that keith doesn't smile very often, it's always impossible to hide his unabashed grins when they're toothy in the training room's bright lights.
pride. and a bit of shock, too, for toppling over at all. it's a rush of a feeling that he can't quite put a name to, that reminds him too much of - ]
What?
[ lilting maybe, with the lingering laugh. ]
No way, I would never.
no subject
something just this simple. ]
Does that mean you want best out of three?
[ he's still tense -- he has to be. but his mouth's crooked, hair swaying with the bow of his head, and he's in no hurry to pull away. ]
I figured you might just wanna stay down there all day.
no subject
[ and that's laughter, too. here, there's no outside world to worry about, no plague of monsters, or soldiers that show up in his nightmares, that he rips to shreds with a right arm that doesn't belong to him. he knows it's selfish -- but he doesn't know what good or bad he's done to deserve the answering crook of keith's smile, the feeling that races through his bloodstream like he's taking flight.
i've got you, buddy. there's copper in his mouth, a bruise on his rib cage, but he's never been happier.
his hand's trailing up keith's arm, fingers curling into his shoulder, but keith's stance is solid. ]
I figured I could ask for a nap if I win.
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[ leaning over him at once, maybe three perplexed degrees short of a frown. ]
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[ he says, grinning wide as his hand settles between keith's shoulders, bracing still. ]
You're gonna win, aren't you?
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What do you think, Keith?
[ but the thing is, he's always got more bulk, a bit more span with which to gain leverage.
which means they get rolled over pretty easily, with his hand on keith's shoulder, pinning him flat. ]
Is it a kid or an old man that's got you beat?
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the question's how much of that works. ]
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I CAN'T BELIEVE THIS SAT FOR TWO DAYS!!
and, well - ]
Pinned you again.
i can't believe keith sat on shiro for two days
keith isn't exactly heavy. far from it, when he can throw him easy, when pinning him down isn't a hard thing to do. but it's different today. keith has the momentum, the focus -- and maybe he's really charging after the prize, but - ]
You're really -- determined, aren't you.
[ but keith's straddling his stomach, and that's making it pretty hard to laugh. his hands fit along the slant of keith's waist, and maybe he's investing a lot of strength just to tug keith's thighs into loosening up, but that's a price he must pay to breathe. ]
Wanna win that bad?
technically shiro was on top at the time.
I'm definitely not gonna get any better if you keep holding back, Shiro.
fuck
he can feel the jump of keith's muscle, the rhythm of his breathing, the tension in his hand as he doggedly pins his body down. it's probably not a good sign that the goad hits home, that he wouldn't mind seeing what else keith can do, that he wants more of everything. well, maybe it's just the adrenaline talking.
whatever it is, by reflex or otherwise, his grip roughens a little, and he finds that he wants more of that, too. ]
Then promise not to hate me too much.
FIVE MONTHS LATER!!!
Sounds like you're stalling.
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because by the time he's heaving forward, he's still got keith strung about him from the waist up, and it doesn't take much besides the initial, awkward stumble to push them upright.
keith probably expected a pin.
and probably not to be carried, with shiro's arm braced underneath him, and the other slung along his back. ]
Gotcha.
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Shiro.
[ squirming, but not very much, because that's apparently his theme now. ]
I don't think this'd work in a fight.
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[ rimshot.mp3 ]
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[ definitely squirming to get down now. ]
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which means it's pretty easy to topple him right back over, until he's got an arm across his torso holding him back against the floor. ]
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even if the placement of keith's legs has probably shifted just enough to get them flush together. but you know what! focus on the real task at hand can provide a potent distraction. ]
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but keith's paying some attention, anyway -- sprawling back means that he's got both hands free to wrap tight around shiro's arm where it's locked him against the mat, pushing and shoving as his hips twist to force him off-balance.
basically: this is a whole lot of outraged squirming. ]
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