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If there’s one thing Shiro has a love-hate relationship with, it’s diplomatic meetings and events such as the one he’s currently attending. Allura had made it clear that she expected Shiro to attend the peace-making event the Blade of Marmora was hosting.
And then Keith, sweet Keith, had told Shiro that he wanted him there, and Shiro can’t deny his boyfriend of anything, especially something so sentimental as being by his side around his Galran family.
He’s dressed in something that Allura had assured him was appropriate for the event, a step up from his usual admiral uniform. Shiro doesn’t recognize most of the attendees, various intergalactic diplomats surrounded by blades in uniform. He waves politely at Kolivan, Krolia, and searches the crowd for his boyfriend.
Their relationship is new, fresh. It had seemed like the natural next step for them to take, and Shiro can’t deny that he’s always held a candle for Keith. Being with Keith is everything Shiro dreamed it would be and he thinks that his love for his boyfriend grows with every passing second.
It isn’t long before Shiro finds him; he thinks he has a sixth sense that is just for locating Keith at this rate. Keith’s in a conversation with someone Shiro has never seen before, and he feels only a little guilty for interrupting.
He slides up to Keith’s side, presses a metal hand to the small of his back. He notices Keith tense ever so slightly before the recognition seeps through and he relaxes. He politely excuses himself from the conversation, shifting them away so that he can turn to face Shiro.
His arms wrap around Shiro in a quick hug, “Shiro. I’m so glad you’re here.”
Shiro squeezes him tightly before releasing him. With their relationship still so new, they’ve kept it mostly private and quiet. Only their fellow paladins, Kolivan, and Krolia are aware they’re together, and they think they intend to keep it that way, for the most part. They like the privacy and neither Keith nor Shiro’s have ever felt a need for PDAs.
“I’m glad to be here - glad to see you.” Shiro says with a smile. “Hope I didn’t keep you waiting.”
“Not at all,” Keith says, fussing with the sash crossing over his chest. His eyes scan over Shiro and he grins, “You look nice.”
“Me?” Shiro huffs, reaching out to tuck a loose hair behind Keith’s ear. “You look incredible.”
He means it. Shiro has always loved the way Keith’s blade leader uniform looks on him, how he braids his hair for these kinds of events. Shiro’s glad he has some self-control, or else his boyfriend would have tempted him into doing horrible, filthy things.
They aren’t able to catch up for long. Shiro and Keith both being paladins and high-ranking officers means that many of the diplomats and blades want their attention. Shiro is starting to get tired of the constant flow of individuals asking questions about Voltron and the Atlas, but then he reminds himself that at the end of the night, he’ll be able to spend time with Keith, and he finds himself powering through.
It’s nearly a varga later when Shiro is finally able to excuse himself from what has felt like endless diplomatic introductions and he can reunite with Keith. He spots him off to the side with a fellow blade and makes his way over. He doesn’t recognize the man Keith is talking to, but Shiro knows there are plenty of blades he’s never met before that Keith must know.
As he nears, he notices the way the blade stands with Keith, the proximity. He notes the soft touches that linger just a little too much for Shiro’s liking. He sidles up beside Keith and does his best not to cringe when he overhears what the blade is saying.
“Your skill is just unparalleled,” he says, voice deep and low. “The way you wielded those weapons of yours when we fought alongside each other… It was breathtaking.”
There’s a lingering hand on Keith’s forearm, the blade sliding too close into Keith’s space. Shiro belatedly realizes he lets his hand grip the dainty stem of his wine glass perhaps a little too tight when there’s a quiet snap . He hears Keith nervously try to laugh off the compliment, but he doesn’t move away. Shiro thinks he remembers Keith saying something at some point about the Galra being a particularly tactile species, but there’s something different in the way this blade touches his boyfriend.
“Hi there,” Shiro butts in, making sure that he’s nearly pressed against Keith’s side. He extends his hand, the metal one, to shake the blades hand. “Shiro. Black paladin, Captain of the Atlas. And you are?” Shiro rarely introduces himself by his credentials, but there’s something about the way this man looks at his boyfriend that has him puffing his chest.
The blade spares one more glance at Keith before he extends his own hand to clasp Shiro’s prosthetic. He’s at least brave enough to meet Shiro’s eyes as he introduces himself, “Orson. I’ve only recently joined the Blade of Marmora.”
“Orson actually just went on his first mission with me,” Keith says. Shiro realizes then that he could probably let go of the near-death grip he has on the new blade’s hand.
Orson nods, flexing his hand as he pulls it away.
“Yes,” he says. “I just think Keith’s abilities are spectacular.” His reaches out to rest a hand on Keith’s shoulder. “I am sure you have had the pleasure of seeing him move in battle as a fellow paladin.”
Keith shrugs him off, but Shiro feels his blood starting to boil beneath his skin.
“Yes, actually. I’ve seen Keith move plenty of times. Often, in fact. He is quite spectacular.” Shiro does little to hide the venom in his voice and it earns him Keith’s elbow in his side and a sharp glare.
“I’m sorry, Orson, would you excuse us?” Keith says quickly.
“Oh, of course, Blade Leader.” Orson practically bows to Keith, nodding. “I do hope you return, though.”
If it weren’t for Keith’s hands guiding him away, Shiro thinks he’d be close to throwing punches. Something green and ugly is simmering in his gut.
Keith guides them away, into the hallway of the extravagant hall the Blade of Marmora had booked, and his grip on Shiro’s arm is firm, unrelenting.
“Shiro,” he hisses once they’re in private. “What the fuck was that?”
“What?” Shiro pouts. He feels chastised, and Keith’s glare does little to settle that.
“You’re kidding,” Keith folds his arms across his chest. “You were posturing. He’s a blade. One of the many that I happen to oversee. That was so unnecessary!”
Shiro rolls his eyes, “He was flirting with you!”
Keith’s anger seems to falter for a moment, “He was not.”
“Keith,” Shiro feigns a swooning teen, throws a hand to his chest. “Oh, Keith. I just adore your moves. The way you hold a sword is just magnificent.”
Keith punches his shoulder, “Shiro! Oh my god, you’re so jealous.”
It’s Shiro’s turn to falter.
“I’m not jealous,” he says, and that earns him a laugh from Keith. “I’m not!”
“You nearly broke his hand, Shiro,” Keith says between soft chuckles.
Shiro nearly cracks a smile at that, himself, inching closer to Keith. He’s been itching to touch him since they stepped out of the public eye. His hands slide around Keith’s waist, tug him closer.
“I wouldn’t have actually broken his hand. I just - I didn’t like seeing him touch you so much.”
Keith softens in his arms, winding his own arms around Shiro’s neck. He plays with the short hairs at the back of Shiro’s neck.
“You know Galra are just touchy like that.” Keith sighs. Then, teasing, “He’s got nothing on the Black Paladin and Captain of the Atlas.”
Well, he’s sure he won’t be living that down anytime soon.
Shiro groans, bumping their foreheads together.“He was next-level touchy. And - and he’s not allowed to be.” Shiro thinks he sounds like a child even to his own ears, petulant.
“And why not?” Keith says, fishing. He’s got a brow quirked, and Shiro is realizing that he’s traveling down a slippery slope. Keith leans in, his lips just centimeters from Shiro’s, his breath ghosting along Shiro’s parted lips. “Because I’m yours?”
Shiro feels his breath stutter, his hands squeeze where they rest on Keith’s hips.
“Yeah,” Shiro breathes. “Mine.”
Their lips crash then, a frantic, desperate thing. Keith’s hands fly to tangle in Shiro’s hair, to tug and pull Shiro impossibly closer. Shiro grip is bruising as he pulls Keith flush against them, delighting in the way the angle forces Keith’s head back, allowing for Shiro to plunge his tongue deeper into his mouth.
Keith sucks hotly on Shiro’s tongue, and it’s like Shiro is trying to meld them together with how he pulls Keith impossibly closer. Like this, he thinks it’s evident to Keith the effect he’s having on him and he groans into Keith’s mouth at the friction against his tightening pants. Shiro lets his hands slide down, grab fistfuls of Keith’s perky little ass and squeeze . It earns a soft mewl from his boyfriend and results in more delightful friction.
They break apart, panting messes. Shiro has to suppress another groan at the sight of Keith, hair mussed and lips swollen and shiny with his spit. He’d kiss him again if they weren’t exposed in the hallway like this.
“Keith,” Shiro pants.
“We should… go somewhere. Somewhere private.” Keith says, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. He tugs at his uniform, likely trying to appear composed and hide any evidence of the way they’d been pressed together. “I think there was a storage room down the hall.”
A storage room has never sounded sexier. Shiro thinks if he has to keep his hands off Keith for much longer he’ll start breaking things, so he urges Keith to lead the way. They hurry down the hall and Keith makes a soft aha when the closet is, in fact, down the hallway. He tests the knob and Shiro praises every higher power he knows of when it gives and they’re able to push inside.
Shiro barely gives Keith enough time to close the closet door before he’s on him, all tongue and teeth. He kisses him just as sloppy and needy as moments before. His hands wind into Keith’s hair, tilting his head back and coaxing his mouth open with his tongue. Keith is perfectly pliant, practically melting between the door and Shiro.
He breaks away only to pepper kisses elsewhere, trailing his lips sloppily down Keith’s jaw and his throat as his hands similarly travel lower, latch into Keith’s hips to pull him flush against him. It forces their hips together and Keith lets loose a beautiful mewl as their clothed cocks rub together.
It leaves Shiro panting against Keith’s collarbone, fingers digging into the plump skin of his ass to start them in a slow, desperate grind. The noises Keith lets slip through when they get to be like this are Shiro’s favorite. Soft, breathy sounds that set a fire in Shiro’s gut.
He nibbles at Keith’s throat, at his adam’s apple and then higher, at his ear.
“All mine,” Shiro murmurs. “Isn’t that right?” Shiro punctuates the question with a deliberate, deep grind of his hips.
“Y-yeah,” Keith moans, his nails raking over Shiro’s shoulders. His hips are rocking now, too, like he’s desperate for anything Shiro can give him.
“Yeah, that’s it.” Shiro sucks at a mark he’d nipped into Keith’s skin just moments before. “I’m the only one who makes you feel like this, baby.” Shiro’s palm slips between them, cups the front of Keith’s uniform. The material of Keith’s pants leaves little to the imagination, and Shiro can easily curl his fingers around the swell of his cock.
Squeezing softly, Shiro latches onto Keith’s throat, nipping and biting until he’s sure Keith’s neck looks a mess.
“Turn, baby,” he whispers, nudging Keith’s shoulder. Keith doesn’t hesitate, spinning around to face the door. He leans against it, palms on the smooth surface, and gazes back at his boyfriend. Shiro makes quick work of Keith’s bottoms, tugging them down over the swell of his ass as he moves to kneel behind his boyfriend. He presses a tender kiss to one of his exposed cheeks before he grabs fistfuls of Keith’s ass and spreads.
Like this, Keith’s exposed to the cold of the room, and Shiro delights in the shiver and sweet whine it earns him. Letting his eyes flutter shut, Shiro leans forward and licks a stripe along Keith’s hole.
Even down on his knees, he can hear the way it makes Keith’s breath hitch. He pulls away only to wet his fingers and slowly inch them into his boyfriend. The intrusion has Keith pushing back against the tips of Shiro’s fingers, needy sounds slipping from him. Shiro does his best to prep him like this, wet fingers and tongue spreading him.
“Please,” Keith moans, “I need you.”
Shiro stands then, working to tug himself free. He spits on his hand and wraps it around his aching cock before he blankets Keith against the door. In this position, it’s all too easy for his cock to rub along Keith’s ass, and the sensation makes Shiro’s gut coil with heat.
“Fuck, yeah. Want you so bad.” Shiro pants softly against Keith’s neck. Keith ruts back against Shiro, and it’s like a rubber band snapping. Shiro grips the meaty flesh of Keith’s ass in one hand, his own cock in the other, and lines himself up. All it takes is one harsh thrust of his hips, and he’s bullying his way in.
With so little prep and no lube, Keith’s hot and tight. It takes all of Shiro’s self-control to not bury himself to the hilt and fill his lover with his spend. Panting against Keith’s neck, grip tight on his hips, Shiro’s head is filled with a mantra of mineminemine. It’s a strenuous effort not to simply take as Shiro does his best to let Keith adjust.
“You feel so good,” he groans against Keith’s hair when he’s finally bottomed out. He keeps still like that, wants to let his boyfriend have a moment to adjust given the minimal prep they had been able to manage.
Keith is quiet for a moment, only soft mewls and his panting filling the air. There’s a tentative rock of his hips, a shaky intake of breath, before he finally signals that Shiro can move.
“Fuck me,” Keith whines, arching his back perfectly for Shiro. At this angle, it pops his ass out so beautifully, makes Shiro pracitcally salivate from the sight. Shiro doesn’t need to be told twice.
Slowly, he reels his hips back, until just the tip of his cock is left stretching Keith open. He waits, admires the way his boyfriend looks split on his cock, perky ass presented for him while the rest of him is pressed obediently to the door. When he notices Keith’s lips part, preparing to protest at Shiro’s pause, he pistons his hips forward.
His hips smack against Keith’s ass so hard that the flesh jiggles with the force, and Shiro holds back a groan. He loves Keith’s ass, always has. To him, it’s the perfect balance of firm muscle and supple fat, and Shiro thinks his fondest moments are when he has his hands full of the soft skin.
Shiro is so distracted by the sight that he nearly misses the absolutely wrecked sound that Keith lets loose. If he thought anyone were near enough for them to be caught, he’d have half a mind to quiet his boyfriend, but instead he finds himself encouraging him.
“That’s it, baby. Scream for me. All for me,” Shiro babbles, his hips jack-hammering in a brutal pace of thrusts. “All mine, my pretty boy.”
Keith whines, nails scraping along the smooth surface of the closet door. Shiro doubts that its even a conscious effort, but Keith is pressing back to meet Shiro’s thrusts, trying to follow him when he pulls back.
“Everyone is gonna know you’re mine, isn’t that right?” Shiro’s hand is sliding around Keith’s jaw, angling his head so that he can watch his boyfriend’s pretty faste twist in pleasure. “No one else could ever make you feel like this.”
Keith’s eyes are half-lidded, glossy with lust. He half-nods his head, panting as Shiro fucks into him.
“All yours, only you,” he whispers, his hand reaching behind him to bring Shiro’s lips to his in a crushing kiss. It’s sloppy, a wet and lewd kiss that makes Shiro’s stomach swirl with heat and lust. His hips are slowing, but he drives his cock in deeper, desperate to find the spot that will ignite Keith’s nerves.
Keith’s fingers wrap around Shiro’s wrist, urge his hand to slide around his front. Breaking away from their kiss, lips wet with spit, he whimpers as he guides Shiro’s hand to his leaking cock.
“Please,” he whines, “So close.”
Shiro wraps his hands around Keith, strokes him firm as he latches his lips onto his neck. It’s an effort to do much else than pant and lick along Keith’s neck as he strokes him, twists his wrist and swipes over the wet tip of his cock. He knows he’s nearing his own orgasm and is desperate to bring Keith with him.
“C’mon, baby,” Shiro murmurs against his neck, “Come with me.”
Like a chord has been cut, Keith melts against the door, his cock twitching in Shiro’s hand before he shoots across the door just inches from his hips. Shiro does his best to stroke him through his orgasm as his own hips start to stutter. With a groan formed around Keith’s name, Shiro presses in deep one last time, coming so hard he sees stars.
They stay still there, panting as they try to regain a semblance of coherency. Shiro is the first to pull back, his cock slipping from Keith as he steps back to lean against one of the shelves of the supply closet. His legs feel like jelly, and if Keith’s slumped form against the door is anything to go by, he thinks his boyfriend’s legs feel much the same.
What feels like too long passes before Shiro is able to right himself again, scouring the closet for something to wipe both of them clean. Keith is finally pushing himself up from the door, legs shaky as he turns to face Shiro. Keith looks like a beautiful mess, skin flushed and glistening with sweat and spit, clothes rumpled where they’d been in a rush to tug them down. His hair that had been so intricately braided earlier is coming loose around his face, rogue strands sticking out here and there. A perfect mess.
Shiro thankfully finds some towelettes and grabs a few for each of them, makes quick work of wiping himself clean before he moves closer to Keith. He wipes at his front, first, before he reaches behind, embraces him as he cleans off the mess he made. Discarding the dirty towelettes, Shiro helps Keith fix his clothes, his hair, and Keith does the same for him. There’s still something ultimately disheveled about them both, but Shiro thinks this will have to do.
Once they’re both resembling the put-together paladins and officials they had entered the closet as, Shiro wraps his arms around Keith. Softly, he cups his jaw and brings him in for a tender kiss. Keith is always especially pliant after they’ve made love, and right now is no different. He melts in Shiro’s arms, into their kiss.
Pulling away, Shiro nuzzles at his nose with his own.
“I love you,” he murmurs. “I didn’t mean to get all - you know.”
Keith sighs softly, “I love you, too. I know. It was kinda hot, anyway.”
Shiro cracks a grin, “It was?”
“Maybe,” Keith rolls his eyes. “All that, ‘you’re mine ,’ talk can get a guy riled up, okay?”
Shiro presses a soft, grinning kiss to Keith’s forehead. “Good to know,” Shiro hums, hands massaging softly at Keith’s sides. “We should go back.”
Despite Shiro’s words, neither make a move to part, to head back into the hall. They stay standing like that, quiet but warm in each other’s presence.
“I am yours, you know,” Keith breaks the silence, his voice soft in the quiet room. “There’s no one else in the universe for me. Only.”
Shiro kisses him softly, “I know. And I’m yours, always.” Keith hums happily, presses his head to Shiro’s chest, and in that closet, away from the universes, Shiro knows that they undoubtedly belong to each other.