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Shiro rubs his smirk against Keith’s skin as he abruptly wretches Keith’s head to the side by his long dark hair, taking a deep, lustful breath against his neck. Keith releases a breathless grunt, his naked cock jumping lightly as Shiro grinds salaciously to Keith’s curved backside.
“Fuck,” Keith pants, “hit me.”
Shiro slows in his movements, eyes sharpening. He presses a deep kiss over Keith’s artery and says, “You sure?”
“Yes,” Keith grits. “I want it to hurt, baby. I want your fist cracking my cheek. I want it to bruise so bad everyone starts bothering us about abusive relationships again.”
“Keith,” Shiro sighs, pressing his forehead against the back of Keith’s shoulder. “I don’t want another intervention.”
“‘Oh Keith, we think your lifelong devotion to Shiro is a red flag,’” Keith says in a mocking voice. “‘We’re worried that your years of hero worshiping Shiro would inherently make your relationship toxic and codependent and we just want what’s best for the two of you.”
“Keith, be nice. They had good intentions,” Shiro chastises.
“Like they would know what real true love is if it smacked them in the face.”
Shiro snorts. “Since when were you so romantic?”
Keith rolls his eyes, turning his head a little shyly. “It’s just the truth. We’re soulmates, Shiro. You should know this by now.” Looking back at Shiro, Keith smiles warmly. “We are all made of star stuff. And you and me, we’re made of the same star.”
Shiro stares at Keith for a long time. “Kitten…”
Keith’s lips stretch into a grin. “Yeah. So I want you to hit me, Shiro. As hard as you fucking can.”
Shiro hisses in a sharp inhale.
“You little fucking brat,” he growls, grasping Keith’s chin in his grip unforgivingly. “So that’s how it’s going to be, hm?”
Keith likes to behave this way often, riling his fiancé up when Shiro was trying to be sweet and goading him into treating Keith roughly. They have been curiously researching all kinds of kinks lately to see if any stuck, and Shiro’s definitely noticed how attached Keith was with anything to do with receiving pain play. What Shiro has on his hands here is a cute little masochist.
“All right. Fine. I hear what you want, kitten.” Shiro breathes deep, letting himself sink into the role Keith needs right now. “You want me to beat your ass just like old times, yeah? We could really give it to each other back then, sparring. The bruises we got. I put the most beautiful galaxies on you.”
Keith whines, unable to speak around the grip Shiro has on his jaw.
“That’s what you want right now, baby. For me to create new galaxies to study.” Curling his thumb, Shiro presses his fingernail hard against Keith’s skin, indenting his nail. “Make moons.” Bites just a little too rough on Keith’s shoulder. “Asteroid fields.” Shiro’s floating robotic arm curves around and pinches one of Keith’s nipples, just a little too hard.
Keith wriggles, breathing fast.
“You want to look just like the star stuff we are made of.”
Flushing, Keith nods.
Shiro smirks. “You actually liked it when I hurt you back then, didn’t you?” he asks, casually, as he maneuvers Keith’s body like a doll. “Did you ever get hard?” Shiro holds himself above Keith, looking into his eyes.
Keith stares at him, silent.
“No?”
“No! It’s just that–,” Keith stammers, embarrassed. “I’m just shocked you never noticed. I thought there was no possible way you couldn’t tell. I…” His face turns redder than ever before, and he hides his face in his hands. “I’ve even… cummed during matches before…”
Shiro gapes, staring down at Keith in disbelief. He is suddenly desperate to know about each and every time this happened, try and jog his memory of said training session, and most likely store it in the most special vault of his spank bank for the rest of his life.
Really digging back into the reserves of his self control, Shiro says evenly, “What do you want, tonight? A paddle?”
“No,” Keith says. “Hand. Your right hand.”
Shiro’s heart melts at the way Keith has always insisted on calling it Shiro’s right arm, not his robot arm. He drags his fingers up Keith’s chest, the metal warming from his skin. He cups Keith’s cheek in his palm, and Keith leans into it, closing his eyes with a sigh.
“You ready, kitten?”
“Mm-hmm,” Keith hums.
Shiro rears his arm back and smacks Keith across the face.
Keith moans, biting his bottom lip, which is unusually red—wait—is he bleeding?
Shiro’s heart sinks. He didn’t mean to make Keith bleed.
Keith licks it, looking up at Shiro sultrily. “I don’t want your palm,” he croons. “I want your fist.”
Shiro’s fingers twitch. “Fuck,” he says, amazed, “you really do get turned on by this.”
His feisty little kitten smirks rakishly. “You could snap my neck and I’d thank you.”
It’s meant to be a quip, a joke, but it makes Shiro stiffen all the same. Images of himself doing just that flash before his eyes.
Images of Keith begging to reach Shiro beyond the control of Haggar. Of himself, pressing all of his weight down onto Keith, fully intent on slicing that desperate expression off his face.
“... iro?”
Shiro sucks in a breath. “Color?” he asks faintly.
“Mmm, green,” says Keith, idly tonguing the small cut on his lip.
See, Keith says his color is green, Shiro tells himself. Keith consents to this. Keith wants this. Wouldn’t I do anything for him? I want to make this good for him. He deserves everything he ever wants.
Swallowing thickly and forcing resolve, Shiro clenches his fingers into a fist and rears back.
Keith stares up at him with dark, aroused eyes.
Shiro cracks Keith’s cheek with his prosthetic fist.
“Ooph!” Keith’s head snaps to the side, his downy mop of black hair shielding his eyes. His skin immediately begins to plume a nasty bruise, and he spits a drop of blood from his mouth. “Holy shit…”
Shiro feels sick to his stomach.
Why am I doing this? Look how much I’ve hurt Keith. I hurt Keith. Why the fuck did I do this? I’m the last person who can be trusted to do this.
He’s spent over a year of his life murdering innocent beings. He remembers the look in their eyes as he brought his fist down to crush their skulls. He had to become a monster in the arena to survive, hoping beyond hope that one day he’ll make it back to Earth. To Keith.
And now Shiro just hit him.
Shiro is supposed to protect the ones he loves.
He’s the worst.
But the way Keith looks at him now, it’s nothing like the hatred in his victims’ eyes. These are full of want. They look at Shiro like he hung the moon and stars.
Right now, Shiro doesn’t think he deserves to be looked at like that.
“C-color,” he says again, checking in.
“Green. Harder…”
Shiro winces, slamming his eyes shut. He doesn’t want to do this again.
But Keith will be so disappointed if I can’t do this, he thinks to himself. Haven’t I noticed how much Keith enjoys pain play? He got off to us sparring, for stars’ sake. This will make him so happy. All I want is to make him happy. So why can’t I just suck it up and do this for him?
Why?
Why?
Why?
Shiro’s throat closes up. His hand trembles uncontrollably. He wants to say ‘I’m sorry,’ but all that comes out is a weak, “Red.”
Keith’s eyes widen. It takes him a moment to process before he’s sitting up, hands reaching for Shiro but hesitating. “Sh-Shiro?”
Shiro hates it, but he breaks down sobbing. He grabs at his face with both hands, fingers clenching into his skin. This is right up there among the worst he’s ever felt.
“Shiro, can I touch you?”
Throat too thick to speak, Shiro nods. Keith immediately gathers Shiro into his arms, rocking him back and forth soothingly.
“What can I do to help…?” Keith asks, unsure.
Shiro hates putting Keith in this position. Up until now, it had always been Keith who used the safe word. Shiro knows exactly what to do when it happens. But they had never really discussed how Shiro wanted to be treated if he were to safe word.
It takes a few attempts, but Shiro finally manages to eke out, “Just hold me like this,” and Keith does.
It takes a while for Shiro to calm down, and when he does, he feels thoroughly humiliated. He looks down at the bed and wonders if it would be possible for him to sink into the ground.
Keith doesn’t say anything. He simply searches for the remote control and turns on the projector, searching for a movie to watch. He picks Jurassic Park.
Shiro’s favorite comfort movie. He remembers mentioning it to Keith offhandedly, once.
His heart warms. Keith is too good to him.
Keith takes Shiro and leans back against the pillows on their bed, holding Shiro’s head in his arms. He starts idly brushing his fingers through Shiro’s cropped silver hair, back and forth.
Shiro practically melts.
They watch the movie in silence, laughing when it’s funny and holding their breaths when it's tense. By the end of it, Shiro has almost forgotten what brought them to this situation in the first place.
But he remembers, and he’s awashed with guilt all over again.
The credits scroll over the screen for a few minutes, before Keith finally admits, “I… don’t really know what I should do next.” He leans his head against Shiro’s, breathing in his scent. “I don’t want to mess up and make it worse.”
Shiro shakes his head. “You’ve been the best.”
“Not really,” Keith mumbles to himself. “Um. Did you want to talk about it, or…?” He searches Shiro’s eyes for an answer. “Or go to bed and talk tomorrow…?”
That. Shiro likes that option. It’s amazing how drained of energy he is after a quick emotional breakdown. He nods, eyes already sleepy. Heart expanding with love and appreciation for his fiancé, he whines, “Kitten I loooooove youuuuu,” and rolls over, curling over Keith’s lithe but muscled form.
“Oof–,”
“You’re the best, Keith. I love you so much,” says Shiro, rubbing his cheek over the top of Keith’s head.
He hears Keith chuckle. It’s one of his favorite sounds in the world. Right up there with Keith laughing so hard he snorts, Keith subtly whispering an inside joke that always breaks Shiro during important meetings, and Keith moaning his name. “You big teddy bear,” Keith says fondly.
Shiro smiles to himself, nuzzling deeper into Keith’s warmth.
Tomorrow. They’ll talk about this tomorrow.
And everything will be okay.
Strange, Shiro thinks to himself. It never felt like this with Adam. It never felt like this in any of his previous relationships. Hard conversations were things he dreaded. He knew they would always end up in an argument.
But with Keith, he feels so… safe. Safe to be vulnerable. He can bare every sin, every scar, and Keith will not only accept it all but genuinely love all of those parts, because those parts are part of Shiro.
Maybe Keith is onto something when he says they’re soulmates…
These are Shiro’s thoughts as he drifts off into sleep, the credits of Jurassic Park still playing in the background and providing a lullaby.