@awkwardxmon // Lance McClain: He moans, partly distracted by the taste of Keith and of /himself/ on Keith's tongue, strokes him faster and squeezes lightly to apply a little more pressure, a little more friction. He pulls back, briefly, to suck the fingers of his other hand into his mouth, before he's back to kissing Keith again. That hand slips back, down, to gently press a finger to Keith's entrance, rub against the rim.
@lunarburnt: Ah-- *that* catches him by surprise. Lance's fingers-- his hands do that-- and-- damn-- Keith's breath is coming in shallow bursts-- his nails dig at his shoulder, hips slap hard against his hand-- he spurts over his knuckles and between their stomachs, none the wiser when every kiss is stars and static on his tongue. "Hhha..."
“Good,” Shiro says, breathless, “you’re both so good, did just what I wanted, oh, fuck,” his chest is swelling with something like pride, something like victory, and he wants some for himself, too. His scar’s gone dark at the edges, face flushed as he tries to sip in some desperate gasps of breath. He told himself he wasn’t going to come until he pushed Keith over the edge, and he’s devastatingly close now, doesn’t know why he’s holding back except that it aches when he can’t touch and kiss like he wants. Shiro’s mouth opens like he’s going to ask them for something else, but all that comes out is a tight moan, eyebrows twisting and eyes gone dark as he watches them through his PADD. “Thank you,” he realizes he wanted to say, “thank you for--for letting me--” finally, finally, he’s there, spilling hot over the backs of his fingers, pumping his fist impatiently to wring himself out for them.
