stardust in my eyes.

21+ independent & selective takashi shirogane of voltron: legendary defender.  private & selective. written by ronnie. avatar art by merwild.

[championofstars]

starlitcore​:

lance doesn’t dream. for the first time since…well, it’s anyone’s guess. normally lance’s dreams are so vivid they’re almost real. threatening, at times. but for this night, he just…sleeps. it’s probably the most relaxing sleep he’s ever experienced, without exaggeration. and he doesn’t wake until shiro’s quiet rumble sounds in his ear.

even then, he’s reluctant to let go of the peace.

❛ five more minutes. ❜ it’s playful, even as lance fights to get his eyes open. hunger strikes him fairly quickly, but it’s not a big enough motivation to inspire movement. at least not much. he shifts, just enough to be able to see shiro, and smiles.

he still doesn’t want to move, but he will if he has to. ❛ morning. ❜

   Shiro watches Lance stir to life with what can only be described as rapt awe, pushing away a lock of hair that he slept funny on behind his ear where it sticks up rebelliously. There’s a splotch of purple right below Lance’s ear, impossible to hide with any piece of clothing unless Lance suddenly decides to wear a scarf around his head.

   Last night... totally happened. Last night totally happened after yesterday happened, and Shiro is pretty sure that Lance went through two emotional rebounds in the span of an hour in an attempt to ground himself. It’s not that Shiro thinks Lance regretted it, but... he can worry about it still. Maybe it wasn’t the best idea at the time, but Lance looks soft and content, and Shiro isn’t keen on watching what his expression will settle into when he remembers life outside this bedroom.

   “How did you sleep?” he asks softly, careful to not break the quiet peace.

[championofstars]

starlitcore​:

he does very little over the course of the shower. he moves when asked to and hand shiro things when they’re within his reach, but past that he does almost nothing. he does reassure shiro that of course he made the arm waterproof, he’s not crazy, but then he goes right back to paying minimal attention and letting shiro do everything instead. he hasn’t been this tired in a long time, and he’s never been this tired for fun reasons. before it was from trying to keep himself alive, not from just like…really good sex. which, yeah, lance doesn’t have anything else to compare it to, but he knows how it felt. 

they get from one room to another somehow, and lance really should offer to help but he’s just…not going to. instead he pulls the blanket - towel? might be a towel - tighter around himself and curls up a little bit deeper into the chair. shiro’s movements are soft, kind around the room and lance lets himself fall into them, sighing.

and then they’re moving again, and lance almost grumbles about it until he feels the softness of shiro’s mattress under him, and then any noise he was making turns into a contented little noise, which is…as far as he gets before he’s out. completely.

   Lance slips from consciousness so fast it’s almost impressive. No amount of wiggle or shifting to get comfortable or pulling on the blankets or fixing the pillows seems to wake up, so Shiro carefully rearranges the nest of bedding around them until he’s also content, drawing in close to the warmth and curve of Lance’s back. Lance feels... not helpless... but like a soft and precious thing when he’s like this, a bird that Shiro has to cradle mindfully in his cupped palms.

   His sleep is dreamless and calm, a respite from the day and from the dark druids and from the endless stream of life-altering information Allura fed them the night before. He’s tired, more than he realised, and waking up feels like wading through thicky, murky water. While there are no dreams, there’s a lingering feeling that clings to his skin as he struggles to open his eyes, a weightless, open void that seems to carry him before unfurling its hold.

   It’s unsettling, but in a temporary way, almost forgettable once he comes to. There’s a body tucked up against his side, warm and smelling of everything safe and familiar. Shiro folds himself into the shape of Lance’s body and drifts off for a while longer.

   Morning comes and goes, and Shiro thinks its just the cusp of early afternoon when he wakes up for good, the smell of food permeating through the crack in the door. His stomach kicks awake violently and he echoes the groan in the back of his throat, pushing his cheek into Lance’s hair. “Lance... hey... it’s time to get up.”

[championofstars]

starlitcore​:

yeah, that was pretty obvious in his myriad mood swings prior to shiro wiping any thoughts from his head completely. he doesn’t protest to being picked up, though he likely would in any other situation. he thinks it has something to do with how tired he is and how shiro seems to be reveling in the feeling of the prosthetic. 

besides, it’s easy to just let himself go a little bit liquid in shiro’s arms.

standing is an interesting endeavor, and he leans into shiro both because he kind of needs the support but also just because he can. that vaguely possessive sense of ‘ mine mine mine ‘ is back, which lance is absolutely not willing to address. ❛ ‘m awake. ❜ 

he climbs into the shower, half using the wall and shiro to stay upright. he knows himself well enough to know he’ll start shaking with tiredness in a bit and that’s not a cute look, so they just kind of need to get through this part. ❛ we can sleep in my room tonight. ‘cause i’m sure as hell not changing the sheets on your bed tonight. ❜

   “I can change the bedsheets. You’re not giving me an arm and then making me sleep in a twin.” Even with the promise of physical labor Shiro can’t wipe the goofy grin off his face—honestly, he’s on cloud fucking nine right now, and it doesn’t even occur to him until halfway through shampooing Lance’s hair that maybe he should have had more reservations about bringing the prosthetic into the shower.

   It seems fine, and Shiro thinks Lance mutters as much as he sways on the spot, his eyes opening one after the other but no longer blinking at the same time. Shiro makes quick work of shampooing him up and scrubbing him down, folding him up into a towel and carrying him out into the sitting chair in the bedroom before heading back to clean himself off. He can hear Lance’s breaths even out from the bathroom, and he can’t even hold it against him—the level of exhaustion he must have been powering through is starting to catch up with him, but he’s got enough energy to dry himself off and strip the bed, getting as far as the sheet and a fresh blanket from the closet.

   Pillowcases, duvets, clothes? Too high demand right now.

   Lance is mostly dry by then and definitely mostly asleep, but Shiro still makes sure to unravel the wet towel off him and dry him off one last time before carrying him carefully back into bed.

   The runic blue glow from his arm has faded to something softer and quieter, like a hum beneath the skin, and Shiro gives it a cursory once-over as he climbs under the blanket slot up against Lance’s back, the prosthetic curling over Lance’s middle.

   “...Sleep tight.”

[championofstars]

starlitcore​:

lance loses time, and lets himself do it. he makes a quiet little noise when shiro pulls out, and then doesn’t move from where shiro lays him out. not until shiro comes back, and lance blinks himself awake again, enough to think about the question.

every part of him is screaming to wait, but he knows he’ll feel gross and sticky and uncomfortable in the morning. so he sighs, and says ❛ shower ❜ and makes absolutely no move to get up. 

but hey, shiro’s right there so lance figures out a way to kiss him again, which involves a lot of leveraging himself up on muscles that don’t want to work, combined with coaxing shiro down just enough to meet him in the middle. he lies there for a little bit longer, and then finally makes a move to get upright. he gets to sitting and blinks when his head spins, pounding for a second before his vision clears. ❛ might need some help. ❜ his smile is sheepish but…yeah, he’s not exaggerating that one.

   “You were already pretty tired to start with,” Shiro points out, his smile just as sheepish in return. He sits on the edge of the bed beside Lance and tucks an arm around him, hauling him in close for a few moments. Whatever pain and discomfort that’s leftover, Shiro gladly draws it out, leaving Lance an exhausted, sated blank slate.

   “Ready?” There’s no waiting for an answer—Shiro simply slips to his feet and pulls Lance up into his arms as he goes, a gesture that comes so easy now that would have been near-impossible before.

   It’s less complicated in the bathroom. Shiro manages to get Lance down to his feet, one arm firmly around him for support, his other hand twisting on all the taps until the water rushes near-scalding out of the showerhead. “Just need you to stay awake long enough for me to clean us both up. Okay?”

[championofstars]

starlitcore​

it’s so much, every part of lance feels like it’s on fire, chased by shiro’s touch, and shiro’s hand pressed to his throat, fingers on his pulse point - oh. lance’s head falls back onto shiro’s shoulder, all but boneless as shiro chases his own orgasm, and lance swears he can feel it. 

like before his arm comes up, hand anchored at the back of shiro’s neck, holding on. he’s breathing so hard it almost hurts, and everything feels achy and sensitive and too much - and shiro’s still buried inside him which is a whole other sensation. lance is pretty sure he’s not moving for the next two days at this point.

he doesn’t say any of that. what he does is lean all of his weight against shiro, halfway to incoherency, and say ❛ i love you so much ❜ - and yeah, his eyes are already closed.

   For a little while, Shiro just holds him there, listening to them both come down from the high. The exhaustion that settles into his bones is welcome, and Lance is already beginning to feel like he’s slipping away as the seconds pass by. It takes a bit of careful maneuvering, but Shiro manages to ease out of him gently and tip him into bed, resisting the urge for now to slot right up against his back. They’re a mess, the bed is a mess, and Shiro only has the energy to take care of a few of those things right now.

   He slips away silently into the adjacent bathroom, stripping off the condom and grabbing a couple of hand towels, dampening them under some warm tap water. One he uses to wipe himself down, starting with a quick pass through his hair, and the other he brings back to Lance, climbing back into bed beside him to gently clean him off.

   “You fallin’ asleep?” he asks softly, a smile tinging the edges of his voice. “Do you wanna shower or wait until morning?”

[championofstars]

starlitcore​:

this - this is what he’d imagined. there’s a fine line between control and feral want and shiro is walking it perfectly, and lance can’t do anything but hold on for the ride. it’s exactly what he’d wanted, and he feels so warm, so so warm, like the world is threatening to fold in around him, and he still doesn’t quite know why to do about it but god he loves it, he loves it, he loves shiro -

the low command, growled against his back is almost enough to make lance come on its own. he keeps one elbow under himself, held up mostly by shiro’s arm, and reaches with his other hand to wrap around himself. the feeling of it all is electric, and while he’d rather shiro touch him, this is - lance doesn’t even have the thoughts for it, the words. 

it doesn’t take much, a handful of strokes. it feels explosive this time. lance sees stars, magic rolling off him in waves, and he knows that tomorrow every plant in the house will have grown new stems and leaves, reached new heights. for now, all lance is aware of is the bone deep pleasure ripping through him, and the press of shiro into him, and the way he’s clenching around shiro like the world is ending.

❛ don’t stop -  ❜ he wants to feel it, all of it, even with how overwhelmed he’s rapidly feeling. lance can take it for a little bit longer if it means feeling shiro come apart over him, in him. ❛ shiro, shiro - ❜

   It doesn’t really occur to him until that moment that probably everyone else in the house and the neighborhood can hear Lance, and the wave of possessiveness that grips him is almost foreign. He wants to take and claim, and where Lance is going boneless beneath him, Shiro forces him upright again, hauling him back into his lap with one arm braced around his middle, the other curving up his chest to his throat, pinning him against the line of his body. His thrusts are erratic, chasing friction and body heat, and Lance is twisting against him like it’s too much.

   “Lance.” It’s not a moan, not quite, and it takes everything in Shiro’s power to reign in his teeth, his claws, his orgasm washing over him like molten hot liquid. Lance takes him so good, shaking and trembling through all of it, his pulse hammering against Shiro’s palm, and Shiro has to squash the desire to see what it would take to make Lance come again. He smells spent, of sex and sweat and Shiro, and while his animal brain says don’t stop, his last logical brain cell is telling him it’s over.

   Which doesn’t stop Shiro from holding Lance flush against him like this, making him go through every slowing second still feeling every part of him.

[championofstars]

starlitcore​:

any semblance of reality lance was still clinging onto slides out of focus so quickly it’s like it never existed to begin with. shiro could do anything to him right now and lance probably wouldn’t know how to stop it. and that’s kind of the thing. not only does lance trust him not to, he knows shiro would never even think to do it. lance has never felt safer, even with his brain whiting everything out and his body completely out of his control.

he whines when shiro pulls away from him, but the new position, new angle, new friction - yeah, lance is fine with it. he shifts his hips and clings to the grip shiro gives his hands. whatever noise he’s making he has absolutely no control over, but he knows the volume is rising. the tiny, still conscious part of his brain feels bad for the rest of the pack downstairs.

the rest of him could not care less.

lance has very little control over this, but he wants - he wants. it takes effort and pushing but he manages to get himself just a little more upright, forces shiro back - and shiro must be working with him here because there’s no way lance could do this on his own - until they’re kind of sitting upright, lance sitting firmly on shiro’s lap and dick which is a whole other thing. it stills them for just a moment, lance wriggling his hips but he manages to tilt his head back enough to kiss shiro, breathless and needy. ❛ don’t hold back. ❜ he doesn’t doubt shiro will make him come again, but right now lance wants to feel what it’s like when shiro is just chasing his own pleasure. focussed on that. ❛ i can take it. ❜ he pitches forwards again onto his elbows pushing back onto shiro as he goes, and just barely keeps from shouting out shiro’s name.

god he hopes no one needs him to do anything tomorrow -

   The kiss is barely a kiss, an exchange of breaths and hot open mouths, and Shiro barely gets enough of it before Lance is drawing away from him, pitching forward onto his elbows with what isn’t an ask, but a tell. He pauses for a breath he doesn’t need, just to admire the line of Lance’s back, the hand of his prosthetic fanning out against the back of Lance’s neck, curling around briefly and then dragging slow down his spine, inhaling deep, hungry.

   He doesn’t press Lance into the mattress this time, instead taking him by the hips, forcing him into place to keep him from squirming as he fucks into him—it’s not just for his benefit. He has eyes, he can see how Lance’s twists his fingers into the sheets at this angle, how his head bows heavy between his shoulders, can hear all the little breathless noises that string out of him, unbidden by the relentless pace.

   Lance’s magic, his scent, all of it hangs thick and heavy in the air, a bubble that fills the room, barring out everything beyond the doors and windows. Shiro’s more than happy to forget for a moment that anything beyond that even exists, that anything beyond Lance exists right now, and he braces himself over him with a hand beside his head, his thrusts deep and hurried, chasing the rising crescendo of signals that are flaring off Lance like fire.

   “Touch yourself.” The words that rolls against the back of Lance’s neck sound barely human, pitched low and gravelly, thunder rumbling around the edges—it’s the biggest slip Shiro will allow himself.

[championofstars]

starlitcore​:

it’s weird, it’s a weird sensation, but whatever weirdness there is rapidly gives way to just…pure, white-hot pleasure, and the flattens out everything else. lance twitches and whines underneath shiro, shifts to look a leg over shiro which changes the angles of everything altogether and leaves lance gasping for air. 

he can’t seem to close his mouth, permanently punched open by the feelings and sounds shiro keeps pulling out of him. and shiro’s going so slowly, taking his time, and lance appreciates it, but he wants more. with the little space he has he tries to roll his hips under shiro’s, take him in deeper.

❛ come on then – ❜ lance is hardening between them again, seemingly by sheer force of will. lance doesn’t want to touch himself yet - - maybe at all. he wants to see what happens first. ❛ takashi, mi cielo, come on.  ❜

   The huff that fans out against Lance’s neck feels a tinge more animal this time, trembling with a growl. Shiro lifts his head and he’s nowhere near turning, but his eyes are glowing, tinging the white of his lashes, his brows, his white hair with the faintest hint of gold. Every move is pure, coiled power, and it unravels bit by bit, just a little, just enough to slide from asking to begging to incoherency.

   Shiro won’t hurt him, but he will overwhelm him, spurred on by the noises he makes, by the way he touches him—he’s particularly repsonsive to the way Lance curls a hand into the hair at the back of his head, firm and unyielding, holding on for the ride. Lance is hot and trusting and Shiro slows to a stop, pulling them apart so he can coax him to roll over so he can press Lance’s shoulders into the mattress and lave dangerous, sharp kisses to the back of his neck.

   Lance can’t hold on to him like this, which feels almost cruel in hindsight, so Shiro presses closer, looming over him, reaching out to capture his hands and thread their fingers together. Like this, he doesn’t have to hold on. He can just feel everything, Shiro’s weight almost a promise against his spine, his thrusts punching out every last breathless little noise Lance has to give him.

[championofstars]

starlitcore​:

everything about this is overwhelming. shiro’s softness, the way he pushes, the juxtaposition of his words and touches versus what they’re doing, what’s going on. shiro knows that lance has never done this part of it before. and with the way he handles lance, the way he handles everything – lance is sure, he’s sure, that he won’t forget this for a really, really long time.

and he knows it, when shiro finally presses into him. it’s a slow process, and it seems to take forever, and lance is momentarily overwhelmed by how big shiro feels. he knows - obviously he knows, he’s had shiro’s dick in his mouth before, c’mon - but this is so different. by the time shiro’s pushed all the way in, lance is breathing like he just ran a marathon. 

his nails are curled into shiro’s back and he whispers ❛ hold on, just - gimme a second ❜ and lets himself adjust. after a few seconds he relaxes into it, and then - just to see what happens - clenches experimentally around shiro. the feeling of it makes his breath stutter, and he shifts under shiro. every moment is something new, presses somewhere new, and he nods, flushed completely now. ❛ move, move, i’m okay - ❜

   Whatever ounce of control Shiro seemed to have looks like it’s waning rapidly, silver giving way to glowing gold, a hiss punched out of him when Lance clenches around him, vision going yellow and hazy—he reigns it in with a breath, a moan low in his throat. Lance is a live wire against him and Shiro wants to give him what he wants more than anything, but maybe it’s better, safer, at least for now, to give him the control, let him feel it out for himself.

   Shiro shelves that for now, instead pulling Lance closer by the hips, lavishing his neck with soft kisses, listening to the skips in his heartbeat, to the stutters in his breath, waiting for flares of panic that don’t come. It’s slow, languid almost at first, patient—Lance wants and Shiro wants, and he’s not careful with him out of some fear, but because he wants it to build, wants something Lance thinks he can handle until he can’t.

   The impatience rolls off Lance in waves, and Shiro can’t help but bury a laugh into his neck, running a hand through his hair, pressing in close to him. “I love you.”

[championofstars]

starlitcore​:

at this point, lance thinks shiro might know his body better than lance does. he lingers in all the right places, skirts past sections of skin that make lance want to shrink away from his touch. he’s gentle and sweet and so, so precise in everything he does. lance squirms, but in a sort of pleased, searching way. shiro coaxes sounds out of him that lance has never heard himself make, and he feels so hot he can hardly stand it. it’s taking everything in him to reign in his magic, make sure it doesn’t come seeping out through his fingertips.

but shiro is testing that control too, and lance’s fingers twist into the sheets, holding on as he tries to keep his eyes open, to keep looking at shiro. shiro’s fingers are pushed into him and lance chokes around a quiet ‘ oh ‘ that gets swallowed by shiro’s lips, and shiro is so much more to hold on to. lance twines his arms around shiro and holds on, back arching as the angle of shiro’s fingers changes, urgent in his desperation. ❛ i love you. ❜ he means that, wide eyes glazed with pleasure and want and the oppressively overwhelming feeling of love. the plants around shiro’s room shiver and bloom and lance arches under shiro a little bit more. he can’t come again - not yet - but right now he’s feeling things he doesn’t think he’s ever felt before. ❛ i wanna feel you, shiro. ❜ he whispers the words against shiro’s lips, trembling. ❛ please? ❜

   Shiro’s mouth curves into a grin against Lance’s, a rumble shaking out of his chest at the way Lance’s hands drag impatiently against his back and card into his hair, never lingering in one place for too long, like Lance just can’t hold himself still. 

   “Sweetheart,” he murmurs, nosing at the soft, sensitive spot under Lance’s ear, fingers twisting sinuously in a way that has him arching off the mattress, scent heavy with arousal and desperation. It’s intoxicating in a way Shiro feels he doesn’t deserve to know, but he does. He’s here, and so is Lance, and Shiro has to practically tear himself away from the exposed line of his neck to find the strip of condoms he’d dropped in the sheets. He’s feeling pretty grateful for that second hand right about now, one hand wrapped around himself, the other tucked under the small of Lance’s back, tipping his hips up—and hopefully making him feel safe. Secure. That as long as Shiro’s hands are touching him, nothing is going to hurt him.

   It’s okay if it’s overwhelming, Shiro wants Lance to be overwhelmed, wants those intensely blue eyes to roll back when he eases into him with soft, murmured praises.

   Never hurt him.

[championofstars]

starlitcore​:

‘ no ‘ lance wants to say, and ‘ tell me ‘ and ‘ promise ‘ and ‘ how could you? ‘ but he doesn’t. he’s trying so hard not to think about any of that, to beat back whatever thoughts are in his head still telling him that none of this is going to last, that none of this is real. shiro’s proven again and again that he won’t abandon lance, won’t leave him to the wayside, won’t – won’t walk out.

lance trusts that.

shiro’s still teasing him, and lance lets himself go, lets himself be taken by it. he sighs against shiro’s lips, eyes closing just for a moment. the reality of this is making him nervous, but in a good way. an excited way. anticipation, more than anything. ❛ like i said…i trust you. whatever you think – ❜ maybe that sounds more passive than it should, but lance just means that shiro knows more than he does, knows better. and lance does trust him. implicitly. it’s his turn to smile, a little coy, eyes sparkling. ❛ where do you want me? ❜

   “...Here’s good for now.” Shiro thunks his forehead against Lance’s, expression warm. If Lance trusts him to know what he’s doing, Shiro trusts him to speak up when he needs to—and he believes Lance will, so he doesn’t hesitate pressing on forward, smattering kisses on his way down to make Lance smile, make him laugh softly when his breath tickles over his ribs, over his navel, the inside of his thigh. Shiro’s growl rumbles against Lance’s sensitive skin, but there’s no danger in the noise, just warm, liquid contentment.

   Lance is so good for him, so trusting, still recovering from round one, so Shiro takes his time with him, props his hips up on a pillow and gets him comfortable on his fingers, one of his legs looped over and hiked up by the prosthetic arm. The magic in Lance’s body sings, like it’s being pushed and pulled by Lance’s emotions, the pleasure, the impatience, and imprints of bright, oceanic blue swim in the back of Shiro’s head. His mouth opens for a smart remark, but he loses focus from the shape Lance’s mouth makes around an oh, and he finds himself surging forward to kiss him, hungry to swallow up every sound he makes.

[championofstars]

starlitcore​:

there’s sort of nothing left in the world but shiro, and shiro’s hands, and shiro’s voice, and shiro’s lips. the rest of lance’s awareness disappears, centred on shiro in a way it never has been before. he looks at shiro when he’s asked to and this time when lance’s back arches he does come, and it’s probably the fastest it’s ever happened. 

awareness filters back in slowly and when he flushes this time there’s embarrassment tinging it. he knows shiro said that it was okay but it feels – selfish. less okay. his ❛ sorry ❜ comes out on a breath he doesn’t mean to let out, still breathing hard under shiro’s touch. the desire is still there, the momentum of it - lance just needs a second.

   Shiro kisses him again, chaste but firm, and murmurs, “Can you imagine how much I love you?” before pulling away, releasing the hold he had on his wrists. He helps Lance the rest of the way out of his pants and the boxers that had been unceremoniously wrenched down with them, and tosses them off the end of the bed, the rest of his clothes joining the pile. It all gives Lance a moment to breathe, for Shiro to go rummaging through the bedside to playfully toss lube and condoms his way.

   “Don’t apologize. I got you all nice and relaxed now.” Shiro’s expression is warm, a hint of coyness still present in the corners of his eyes, in the way he leans over Lance and forces him to stare before closing the gap between their lips. “...It might be more comfortable from your knees, at first. You okay with that? Or d’y’wanna stay like this?”

[championofstars]

starlitcore​

❛ don’t behave - ❜ he knows that shiro is way stronger than he is, and that lance likely doesn’t feel like he weighs much to shiro, but being reminded of it is something entirely different. shiro throws him around like nothing, and it makes lance breathless for all the right reasons. he finds himself blinking at shiro, dazed again and barely catching up with what’s going on. this isn’t exactly an unfamiliar position, but he knows that tonight’s gonna have more, and lance is so ready for it he doesn’t know what to do with himself.

give in to shiro is apparently the answer.

he nods almost furiously, though he has no idea if that’s actually true. he’s young, right? that’s how that works? all he knows is that he’s desperate already and they’ve barely even started. every thought leaves his head at once at the touch of shiro’s hand though, at the way lance is almost entirely powerless under his grip. he lets out a noise he’s never once made before in his life, head tilted back, shaking.

❛ want you, shiro, fuck - ❜ the tease of it now, the thought of shiro fucking him is already too much. his back arches a little but he doesn’t come yet - he still has to maintain some dignity. ❛ i wanna feel you...takashi - ❜

   Lance is a one way train—good. The less he can think about everything else, the better, and if Shiro can distract him from everything he had to go through today, he will.

   Feeling good on top of it is a bonus.

   “You are, aren’t you? Feeling me?” Both of Shiro’s hands squeeze lightly, and the fact that he can feel Lance’s pulse jumping under the thumb of his prosthetic is incredible. Where the gall has come from beats Shiro, but hearing his name moaned out like that sends him on a power trip he’s not sure he should be allowed to go on. “Look at me, sweetheart.” He skims his nose along the exposed line of Lance’s jawbone, stroking him in earnest now, no teasing, but a steady, firm pace that has Lance’s hips twisting to meet his hand. “You don’t have to hold out for me—’m not gonna be done with you for a while.”

[championofstars]

starlitcore​:

everything about this is lighting lance up. the rumble of shiro’s laugh, the teeth against lance’s neck, hands everywhere. he’s humming with the warmth of it, can’t seem to keep still in shiro’s lap, twisting and rolling to try and get more friction, more touch - just more.

❛ fuck - ❜ he doesn’t mean to say it like that, but shiro’s voice is doing something to lance that’s gonna get embarrassing if it keeps going for much longer. he’s kind of still a virgin but c’mon - he’s not that much of a virgin. he’s distracted, though, by whatever flirtation shiro currently has going on with lance’s neck.

his hand shifts, lowers, presses to the mark on shiro’s collarbone that binds them together, and maybe he gets it. maybe he tilts his head a little so shiro has a little more access - maybe he presses a little closer and breathes a little harder when he says ❛ whatever you’re waiting for…do it. ❜ he shifts again, tilts to catch shiro’s mouth, press their foreheads together. ❛ i trust you. i’m yours. ❜

he’s already claimed shiro. maybe he wants to be claimed right back. 

   “I’m trying to behave,” Shiro huffs out, which might not be the hottest thing in bed to someone you want to have sex with, but to be fair to both of them, he’s the werewolf in this bed, and... it’s been a while, though Lance smells more and more impatient by the minute. “Well.” Shiro’s grin goes sharp against the outlines of Lance’s mouth, the gold in his silver eyes flickering dangerously. “No one ever said you couldn’t come twice, right?”

   He doesn’t give Lance a chance to answer, swapping their positions again with a very firm hand on Lance’s chest, forcing him back into the mattress so fast he feels the breath leave him. He returns to his previous task of interest, littering Lance’s stomach with heated kisses, laughing at the way the muscles beneath his skin twitch and jump with anticipation. The joggers he’s wearing, however soft they are, have to go, but they only make it to Lance’s knees before Shiro loses complete interest in de-clothing him, teeth dragging sharp lines across his bare hipbones.

   Lance is a squirming, overheated mess beneath him, but Shiro’s got two working hands now, and rises along Lance’s body with a look of pure boyish, golden-eyed innocence, contrasted by the sinful way his hand wraps slow around him, how the other gathers up Lance’s wrists before he can find purchase and pins them above his head. “You can, right?”

[championofstars]

starlitcore​:

he flushes under shiro’s gaze, but in the best way possible. he’s easily lead, especially by shiro, so when shiro moves lance goes with him. he has no qualms about it, throws his leg over shiro’s lap so he’s straddling him, pressed down into shiro as he kisses him. hands pressed to his chest, down to get shiro’s shirt off, put them on the same level. something in lance is on fire now, aching for it. it’s not like it’s not obvious anyway. he’s always been…overeager. 

with shiro’s shirt out of the way lance’s hand settles on shiro’s neck, the other pressed against his chest. he kisses open-mouthed, wanting, the way he learned from shiro. he’s hoping tonight he’ll learn even more.

   It’s strange to suddenly have an extra limb and stuck inside of a shirt he’s removed so many times before, and Shiro laughs at the absurdity of it, at the frustrated splotch of red that’s bloomed over Lance’s nose because Shiro is absolutely not helping, and his laughter still rumbles into Lance’s open mouth once he’s free.

   Lance doesn’t seem to mind so much, he thinks.

   Shiro takes him by the face, marveling at how different it feels to have another hand to press to the opposite side of his face, to trap him in close and kiss him breathless, and then to drop his grip to Lance’s hips and pull him flush, drinking in the soft noise of surprise that tumbles out of him.

   The claim he wants to lay to him is almost embarrassing, and maybe a little late in the game—Lance’s magic is seared into his collarbone, bouncing around his heart, and Shiro’s scent envelops him everywhere he goes, but Shiro suddenly wants to mark him up until there’s no mistaking it. Which is—uh—yeah, no, he’s going to gracelessly break the kiss and dip right into Lance’s neck, the tips of his canines grazing against his skin with every other kiss, acting like he’s not teeter-tottering on the precipice of his control right now.

   “You smell so good...” and it cuts in pitched at least three octaves deeper, rumbling at the edges like something inhuman.

[championofstars]

starlitcore​:

lance isn’t sure what he was expecting, but this kind of…tender agreement is exactly what he wanted. he trembles under shiro’s hands, but it’s all involuntary. he doesn’t know how to stop, caught in the excitement of shiro’s fingertips. dragging across his body.

❛ ‘kay. ❜ it’s hard to get the word out but lance manages it somehow. he’s pretty proud of himself for finding the air for it actually. because shiro stopped at his sweatshirt lance finishes the job of getting his own shirt off, because he feels too hot suddenly - but in the best way. in the ‘ if you stop now i’ll lose my shit ‘ kind of way. ❛ shiro - ❜ having shiro’s mouth pressed there, it’s - a lot. lance twists his fingers into the longer parts of shiro’s hair, twisting a little. ❛ don’t stop. ❜

   “No?” Shiro’s voice vibrates against Lance’s navel like a promise... though he does pull away, sitting up to give Lance a simmering once-over before pitching away from him and falling back into the pillows stacked against the headboard. He sleeps with an obscene amount of them, but they’re all mostly there to mitigate any discomfort sleeping when his shoulder flares up—now they’re just a soft warm mass to rest against as he gives Lance a rakish grin, beckoning him into his lap, the troubles of the day briefly forgotten. Lance’s scent is dominating, and Shiro wants to give him a chance to hold the reigns... even if it frustrates him a little in the process. “Come kiss me.”

[championofstars]

starlitcore​:

yes yes yes yes. that’s lance’s first and immediate thought, which he can’t do much of anything with. the following six thoughts are things that he’s kind of embarrassed to say out loud, so he stalls for time by dragging shiro down, more weight against his body, to kiss him again. it’s not aggressive but god, it’s a near thing. 

❛ make love to me. ❜ he whispers the words into shiro’s mouth and it’s bolder than he normally is, but it’s not like it’s spur of the moment. lance has been thinking about it for…a while now. he thinks maybe shiro has too. so lance hooks one of his legs around shiro’s waist and grins, bats his eyelashes. ❛ please? ❜

   Shiro’s caught between kisses—Lance’s lips are soft but persistent, hands firm where they coax him closer, and Shiro can’t put up a fight when he’s too busy melting under the attention. He almost misses Lance’s request in the unexpected way he voices it, and tries to not laugh in surprise because—well—now’s a bad time to misconstrue laughter, he thinks. It’s not funny, it’s just... endearing.

   He dips his head to kiss the corners of Lance’s mouth, sinking his weight into Lance’s body until the heaviness makes Lance’s breath shake. “I’ll give you anything you want as long as you want it,” he murmurs, hands sliding down Lance’s front to hook into the hem of his sweatshirt and pulling it up and off in one easy motion—it rucks up the shirt he’s wearing underneath, and Shiro zeroes in on the strip of exposed stomach with fervor, his mouth hot, fang dragging teasing lines down the soft skin. “You know what to say if you want to stop.”