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Keith would’ve thought he was too tired for sex.
They’re way past the immediately-tear-each-other’s-clothes-off-after-a-mission phase. Not so young anymore. He’d have been just as happy to crawl into bed and cuddle, to have immediately been out like a light. He’s been out with the Blades for weeks and he’s fucking exhausted and it’s the middle of the night and he just wants to curl up against his husband’s body and sleep.
But the apartment is empty.
Their bed is perfectly made, everything is tucked away in Shiro-Neatness. He drops his bag on the floor and stares at the empty bedroom, then takes another lap around the apartment, turns on the lights and checks the couch to make sure he didn’t miss Shiro passed out somewhere. But no, it’s empty.
He’s tired enough that he considers going to bed, anyway. The idea of crossing the whole compound to get to Shiro’s office is daunting. They got back a day early with everyone pulling double shifts and his brain is honestly so fucking fried. Just wants to sleep. But this is ridiculous.
They’ve talked about this, you know? He rubs his hands over his face and groans before turning to leave the apartment.
The shades are pulled on the office windows as Keith approaches but he can see the light from inside. What time is it, even? He waits outside for a moment and takes a breath to calm himself.
It’s not that he wants to be a dick about it. He doesn’t want to make Shiro feel bad. His irritation is not about himself, rather doing what’s right for Shiro. And Keith doesn’t want to make himself feel bad, either. He knows it’s hard, all this time they spend apart. They’re both trying to find healthy ways to deal with it. Keith is doing his best to go slow and savor their time together while he’s home and Shiro is trying to keep a normal routine when Keith is away.
So he takes a moment to calm down, to smooth over the trilling exhaustion in his body, to make sure he’s feeling patient and understanding before he bursts into the office and reminds Shiro he isn’t supposed to be working this late.
But he hears a sound right as he’s about to open the door.
It’s a moan, he thinks, but it’s too quiet to be real. He frowns and hesitates, then presses an ear to the door. More moans, and the sound of slapping? He claps his hand over his mouth and tries not to laugh.
“Holy shit,” he whispers to himself, and the whole thing is so funny all of a sudden. It’s like the weight lifts off his shoulders as he shakes out the nervousness and keys the door open.
“Oh—“ Shiro’s face blanches as he looks up from behind his desk. “K-Keith, oh, I—“
His chair creaks as he sits up and reaches to shut his monitor off but Keith has seen enough. He crosses his arms over his chest.
“Shiro,” he says. He keeps his voice low and even, the way Shiro likes it when they do this. “You’re here awfully late.”
His face burns red up to his ears and Keith fucking loves it. Sometimes he thinks he shouldn’t—it’s so easy to get Shiro flustered that it seems like a cheat somehow. But that’s the chemistry between them, it’s how they’ve always been. Shiro is a fucking tinderbox and the feedback cycle between them always feels so goddamn intoxicating.
“Well, I, I was just, um—“
Keith raises an eyebrow at him, keeps his face schooled. This is part of the fun, isn’t it? Catching Shiro like this puts him in such a tight spot. He can make an excuse that he’s not jerking off in his office at night like a weirdo or he can admit that he’s overworking. Either way is a bad look.
“It’s a good thing we got back early,” Keith says. Shiro tries to straighten his desk, pushes his hair back out of his eyes, adjusts his glasses. He tries to be subtle about the way he reaches down to do his pants back up under the desk but Keith raises a hand to stop him. “What do you think you’re doing?”
His hand clenches into a fist but he puts it obediently to the desk.
“You’re not gonna really sit here and pretend you weren’t touching yourself, are you?”
Shiro swallows hard. “Uh. I. N-no. Sorry. No.”
“That’s what I thought.” He stares for a moment, trying to decide how this should play out. He would’ve thought he was too exhausted for sex, had really intended to pass out instantly as soon as he got back. But he’s feeling a second wind. Finally he sighs, like he’s disappointed, and gestures for Shiro to come closer. “Stand up. Get over here.”
Shiro barely makes eye contact as he takes a shaky breath and stands up, one hand awkwardly holding his open pants so that they don’t fall down as he comes around the desk to stand in the middle of the room.
“Jesus, Shiro,” Keith mumbles, and points at his cock. “You’re still hard.”
“Keith, I can explain, I—“
“You have no fucking shame, you know that? That’s so disgusting.”
Shiro doesn’t respond but his cock twitches. Keith rolls his eyes and walks past him to sit down at Shiro’s desk. He clicks the monitor back on to see where the video is paused.
“So, tell me,” Keith says, doing his best to sound impartial. Maybe he’s assuming a professional role, sitting here in Shiro’s office. It’s the same office where he has meetings all day, asserts his authority, speaks to important world leaders. Keith folds his hands on the desk as Shiro turns to face him, still holding his pants up. “Is there a reason you’re doing this in your office of all places? I would imagine this is a misappropriation of government resources, streaming porn on your office computer. This is such an abuse of trust to the taxpayers we're supposed to be keeping safe.”
Shiro looks at the floor. He scratches the back of his neck with his free hand. “It’s too quiet at home.”
“Speak up,” Keith says. He reaches for Shiro’s trackpad on the desk.
“It’s too quiet at home,” Shiro says louder. “When you’re not there.”
“That’s a shame,” Keith says. He turns the volume up, just to make Shiro more uncomfortable, and hits play on the video. He makes it three seconds before he starts to laugh. “Oh, Shiro. I should’ve known you’d be watching this shit.”
He leans back and puts his feet up on the desk. Shiro is still staring at the ground but his hardon is standing tall.
It’s part of the act, obviously. Keith knows that Shiro is into this stuff. They both are. They’ve emulated this type of play before, though they make do with the domestic setting of their apartment. Porn is always so dramatic, so theatrical. Keith has toyed with the idea of them playing in some creepy basement room in the Garrison or something but they haven’t made that step yet.
“You’re such a perv,” he says, his eyes not leaving the screen. He points at the screen. “Normal people aren’t into this, you know?”
“Yeah,” Shiro says quietly. “I know.”
“So fucked up,” Keith says. He watches the video, glancing between the screen and Shiro’s face. He’s blushing and squirmy but still hard. Uncomfortable.
But leave it to Shiro that his taste in porn is actually quite cultivated. Keith studies the screen and marvels that Shiro is always able to find an eerie mirror to them as a couple. Maybe it’s why Keith never feels insecure about it, never gets jealous. He wonders how long Shiro browses before he ever settles on videos. Wonders if he keeps the links saved. He thinks maybe he’s seen these two before, the ones in this video. Shiro likes them. They don’t necessarily look like Shiro and Keith, not specifically, but the size difference is about the same. The smaller one has long hair and tattoos but he’s always wearing a mask on the lower half of his face. Not really Keith’s type, but that’s to be expected. The other one, though.
Muscular. Tall. As broad as Shiro had been during the war.
He’s strapped to a discipline bench, ass striped red with welts. The smaller guy flogs him and he flinches, whines, cries out. He’s counting the blows out loud and when the camera shows his face he’s crying, drooling all over the floor.
“I mean are they even fucking?” Keith asks. Shiro probably assumes it’s a rhetorical question and he doesn’t answer, just pushes his glasses up on his face. Keith snaps his fingers. “I asked you a question.”
“Uh, no?” he glances up at Keith and then back down to the floor and Keith feels the warmth between his legs. Shiro’s got that look. God, he’s so easy. “I mean, they might? Later. I’m not sure. I haven’t seen this one.”
Keith rolls his eyes and skips ahead in the video.
“This is so typical of you,” he says, watching how it plays out as he skims over. The flogging goes on for a bit longer until the camera closes in on the sub’s asshole. The dom pets over it, spreads him for the camera, starts fingering him open. He’s wearing gloves and they’re shiny with lube and it curls in Keith’s stomach. Shiro likes stuff like that. Gloves and stuff. Makes him feel pathetic and disgusting in that good way, like he’s too dirty for Keith to touch with his bare hands.
He sighs as the sub in the video moans. His thighs flex beneath the restraints. Thick like Shiro’s and trembling from the strain. Keith rolls his eyes and skips ahead in the video a few more minutes to see what else is going to happen. He stops again when he sees the dom teasing the sub’s hole with a huge black dildo. Keith can’t quite tell what species it’s based on because it’s too dark in the video, but there are ridges and bumps all over it. The sub’s hole stretches around the head and he lets out little whimpers as each bump pushes through.
“Are you even using a proxy or anything? You know your company computer isn’t private, right? It would take like two seconds for anyone to realize you’re watching this. Unless you like that?”’
Shiro’s cock twitches.
“You are so fucking gross,” Keith says. “You like that, don’t you? You like that anyone can know what a dirty old creep you are. Up here at night, masturbating in your office. Anyone could’ve caught you. You should be ashamed.”
“I know…”
“Such a fucking loser,” Keith mumbles.
The camera pulls back far enough that Keith sees the end of the dildo is attached to a pole. As the dom fucks into him with it he steps away, holds further back on it. This is good. Keith has never used one of these and files it away in his mind for later. It’s brilliant, really. An extra level of Shiro being unworthy of Keith’s touch.
“You like that I walked in on you, don’t you?”
“Yes…”
“You didn’t even welcome me home. Hi baby, so glad you’re back early. All you care about is exposing yourself to me. It’s pathetic.”
His fist clenches around the waistband of his pants. “Keith. Please…”
Keith turns the monitor so that Shiro can see it better. “Well go on, then.”
“What?”
“Fucking touch yourself. That’s what you want, right? You want me to watch? You want to masturbate in front of me so that I know how disgusting you are?”
Shiro’s weight shifts from one foot to the other, and he switches hands to hold his pants with his prosthesis. His human hand circles around his cock and he shudders at his own touch.
Keith settles back in the chair to watch. He rubs over the front of his pants to smooth them out but doesn’t touch, just watches. Shiro keeps trying to maintain eye contact but the pleasure is so clear on his face. He keeps closing his eyes as each crest hits him.
“Were you just gonna jerk off?” he asks.
“W-what?”
“Come on, don’t pretend you’re not a freak. Were you gonna finger yourself?”
“I, I—“
“You want to, don’t you?”
Shiro whimpers and jerks off faster.
“You’re such a fucking mess,” Keith mutters. He opens Shiro’s desk drawer and shuffles around until he finds the bottle of lube. He knew it would be there, they’ve used it before. He gestures to Shiro. “Give me your hand.”
Shiro hesitates for a moment, looking utterly humiliated as he lets his pants drop and extends his prosthesis across the room to hover over the desk. His pants pool around his ankles and Keith points as he laughs.
“Oh my god,” he says. “I mean you could stop jerking off long enough to undress. Christ, Shiro.”
He uncaps the lube and starts dripping it over Shiro’s fingers as Shiro scrambles to take off his boots and step out of his pants. He unbuckles the belt around his jacket but doesn’t take it all the way off, just lets it hang open.
“Get on your knees,” Keith says. Shiro’s arm recedes towards him as he settles down onto the floor. He keeps stroking himself as his prosthesis floats back to its place at his side. They both look at the video again. The dom is thrusting the toy in harder, the sub is getting louder. He thrashes against the bench, begging and whining. “Go ahead, I know you want to. You’re already touching yourself like a pathetic weirdo, why stop now?”
He reaches around behind himself with the prosthesis. Keith can’t see from where he’s seated behind the desk, but he can imagine. He knows how Shiro likes it, how he usually teases himself at first before he eases in. The moment he does it is obvious by the way his brow creases and he bites his lip to keep a moan inside.
Keith snaps the lube shut and leans forward to reach for the drawer again. As he turns his head to watch what he’s doing, something catches his eye. He drops the lube and shuts the drawer, stares over towards the corner of the desk. His heart thumps in his chest and he stretches to grab it.
“Where did you find this?” he asks, and the softness in his voice almost breaks character. He turns the picture frame over in his hands a few times like it can reveal a clue.
“Hnngh—“ some noise comes out of Shiro’s throat before he answers. He has to catch his breath. “I found… a box… of my stuff… in the archives…”
“When were you gonna tell me?”
Shiro whimpers and squeezes around his cock to slow down. He rocks his hips like he’s riding on his fingers. “It was while you were gone. Last week. I would’ve told you, I swear.”
Keith rolls his eyes and looks down at the picture.
He doesn’t remember it being taken, but it’s sort of generic. Shiro used to take selfies of them all the time, so it’s hard to know. He can sort of gauge the date by Shiro’s haircut, maybe it was Keith’s first year at the Garrison. Keith’s wearing his ugly orange cadet jacket and Shiro is ruffling his hair. It looks like he’s trying to make Keith laugh, because this was back when Keith wouldn’t smile in pictures. He smiles down at it now, just a little. Can’t help it. But he rearranges his face when he looks back up at Shiro.
“You were jerking off with this right here on your desk?”
“Well, I—“
“Don’t lie, it was right here. Do you have any idea how inappropriate that is?”
He looks at the picture again.
Christ, he looks like a fucking baby. They both do, really.
“Isn’t it bad enough that everyone scrutinizes our relationship? Really, Shiro.”
“I’m—“ he holds back, goes red.
“You’re what?”
“I’m not that much older than you, it’s not a big deal.”
Keith waves the photo in the air. “Really? Everyone who knew us before we left knows I was a kid when you met me. A fucking kid, Shiro. And you’re here jerking off to a picture of me when I was a teenager? That is so disgusting.”
He puts the photo back on the desk, but turns it towards Shiro so that he can see it.
“Did you want me back then?”
“Keith, no—“
“Don’t lie to me, you perv.”
“I swear, Keith…” he flexes his legs, thumbs over the head of his cock. He keeps darting his eyes between Keith and the photo and the video. The sub on the screen wails and Keith looks over out of curiosity to see what’s happening to him.
“How many fingers are you using?”
“Keith—“
“Two? Are you using two like a thirsty slut?”
“Yeah…”
“Use three.” He stretches and folds his arms behind his head. “Three fingers in yourself like a greedy little fuck. Were you thinking about how I’d fuck you? Even as a dorky little teenager?”
His face is so red.
“Or maybe you wanted to fuck me this time? You wanted to take advantage of me and fuck me? I was so small back then. You wanted to bend me over and make me scream, didn’t you?”
“Keith, no, I swear—“
“You wanted to force your big cock down my throat. You probably thought about it all the time. Do you still think about it?”
“No,” he gasps, but his cock is dripping all over the carpet.
“You sicken me,” Keith says. He nudges the picture closer to the edge of his desk with his foot. “What am I, like sixteen there? You’re fucking disgusting.”
Shiro’s knees slide further apart on the floor as he rides his prosthetic fingers. Keith wishes he could watch the way it breaches his body, but there’s time for that later. Plus, it’s not like they’ve never done this before. Keith can see it in his memory and sends waves of arousal through his whole body as he watches.
“Creepy old pervert,” he spits. “Lecherous old fuck. You were like a father to me, don’t you get that?”
Shiro has that look on his face like he’s getting close. It’s almost pained, but he’s also not-quite-there, hazy and blissed out. It’s like everything else in his head is shutting off and Keith is happy to get him there. His voice gets raspy as he continues to taunt, doing his best to keep his face neutral, trying to ignore how turned on he’s getting, himself.
“I bet people thought you were fucking grooming me, you disgusting fuck.”
His heart pounds and he keeps going. “I was so fucking vulnerable and you just wanted to fuck me, that’s fucking abhorrent. It’s basically incest. You were family to me. You are so fucking gross—”
“I disappeared off Earth at eighteen and I come back around your fucking finger. They remembered me. They all think you’re such a fucking predator, Shiro—”
“You know why? Because you are. You’re a revolting little creep that jerks off in his office all night—”
“You take meetings in here, you sick fuck. You have students come meet you in here. Tomorrow some student will be standing right where you’re about to come all over the fucking floor.”
Shiro looks up, desperate, on the edge of a sob. “Keith please—“
“Yeah?” he drops his hands from behind his head, takes his feet off the desk to sit properly. He leans forward. “You like this? You like me telling you what a nasty pervert you are? You gonna come?”
“Yes—“
The sounds he’s making are so obscene. “Do it. Come all over our own goddamn carpet like the revolting mess you are. You gonna do that?”
“Yes, yes, Keith, I’m gonna—“
“Tell me first,” Keith says. He folds his hands on the desk and pretends he’s calm. “Tell me what a disgusting freak you are.”
“I’m—“ he hiccups and squeezes around his cock like he’s trying to stave off the orgasm. “I’m a freak, Keith, I’m a freak, I’m a freak—“
Keith winks at him. “I know, babe. Everyone fucking knows.”
Shiro’s whole body goes rigid when he comes and Keith loves to see it. It never gets old. He falls back on his haunches and he must be seated completely on his fingers as he does it. The last dozen strokes on his cock are so frantic, and then he’s bursting ropes of cum out over the floor. He shakes and whimpers as he sees himself through it.
“So gross,” Keith says softly, almost like it’s a praise this time.
Shiro’s cheeks are so red when he looks up. And he’s so shy. He has no right to looks so fucking innocent after all that, but there it is. He blinks up at Keith as he catches his breath, as he slows down. He wipes his hand on his jacket.
“I should report that. Desecrating your uniform. Unbelievable,” Keith says gently, but all the acting has dissolved out of his voice.
They both laugh quietly, and Shiro shifts, pulls out of himself. He folds his hands over his lap like he’s fucking modest.
But, that’s the funny thing. He sort of is. When they’re not in the moment he’s so fucking modest. So sweet. Keith can’t believe it sometimes.
He wants to tease him about it. Call him disgusting one more time, tell him he’s not fooling anybody. But the exhaustion sets in again. Keith wants to go to bed. Maybe he can get Shiro to go down on him as a nightcap, or maybe he can excavate proper sex energy at the last minute.
Either way, bed is calling to him.
He shuts the video off and clears Shiro’s internet history, powers his computer down. Shiro is just sitting there, still catching his breath in his own mess, obediently waiting for Keith’s command.
Keith stands, he stretches. He stops on the way to the door to pat Shiro on the head like a dog that did a good job.
Shiro turns to watch him as he reaches the door, his eyebrows raised in question. Keith hovers in the doorway and stares at him, just long enough for it to feel uncomfortable. He makes a lazy gesture at the mess of cum on the floor before he turns and leaves.
“Clean up your fucking mess, perv.”