In a #Sheith Champion/prison guard au, Shiro has to fight every waking day for his life and struggles through nightmares at night. At least the newly assigned Galra prison guard leaves him alone most of the time

cw // slight dubcon & angst

Shiro's exhausted, every night he can barely go to sleep and get the rest he needs. He knows he needs his strength the next day but sleep just doesn't come easily to him.

The current guard leaves him alone and other than the last one, he gives Shiro what little food is prepared for him. Shiro usually doesn't look up when he gets the food, but one time he dares to glance up at his face.

The guard almost looks too human to be an actual Galra.

Shiro opens his mouth but the words get stuck in his throat. He scrambles up to get the food and hurries to get back into his corner. That night he sleeps and dreams of the almost human-looking prison guard. The dreams aren't the same nightmares as usual, but they are full of

sweat and anger.

After an especially busy day with many opponents and what feels like darkness at the end of the tunnel, Shiro only lies on the ground of his cell and wishes for another life than this one.

He flinches as soon as steps approach him and gets ready to fight.

It's only the guard who Shiro knows by now, is hardly ever giving him a hard time. He shows Shiro something - it must be a lotion for his scratches - and sits right in front of the cell, holding it out to Shiro.

Shiro comes closer slowly. It's the first non-fetal contact that he

had in a while.

The guard is beautiful, especially for a Galra. He has black hair and even darker eyes. There's the smooth skin and characteristics of his face that make him look so human.

"Here," the guard says with a warm growl. "Take it."

Shiro should. The guard would hardly go through all that effort to bring something that's poisoning to Shiro on this way. Maybe the guard was advice to do this. Maybe he saw Shiro and knew he wouldn't be able to fight if the wounds didn't heal.

Maybe, just maybe, he has pity.

Shiro shuffles closer, starts when theirs a groan from another cell but looks back to the guard continues his way to the bars.

The guard looks relieved. He's still holding the lotion, sticking his hand through the metal bars and waits patiently for Shiro to accept.

Shiro reaches out, mind racing. He puts his hand on the lid of the lotion. The guard omitts a barely audible purr. Shiro takes a steadying breath. It's been so long since he was close to another being that wasn't there to kill him.

Shiro raises his metallic arm, too.

With one hand he holds the lotion, with the other he takes the guard's hand.

The guard's breath hitches and this time his bodily reaction is audible enough to not misinterpret. Shiro wondered if the guards are interested in him.

Turns out, at least /this/ one is.

"Don't be afraid," the guard says feverishly while Shiro strokes over his hand. The guy is beautiful, handsome. Strong. Something dark and dirty boils in Shiro's gut.

"I'm not," Shiro hisses and grabs the guard's arm with force and pulls him toward himself.

cw// fight?? Kind of

Shiro can't measure his strength anymore; the guard gets pulled forward so hard that he bangs his head against the metal bars.

But that's good enough for Shiro, who encloses his hands around the guard's throat. "Let me out," Shiro growls.

Shiro has him in a death grip. The guard pitying him is the only way out, the only opportunity to get someone close enough to actually flee the place. The guard struggles but he's not calling for help. Shiro doesn't know if it's because even now he's thinking of the consequences

for Shiro or if he simply doesn't remember he could.

Shiro is sure the guy is soon about to help him /or/ pass out when he bites down on Shiro's flesh hand.

He falls backwards and holds his hand. When the hurt fades, the prison guard is long gone.

The whole night he's unable to sleep even though his wounds are treated and he's alone again.

Shiro fears the repercussions from attacking a guard, but nothing happens, not even the following days.

Soon everything's back to the every day routine. Every day another fight.

Shiro feels like a dead man living.

The guard must come by his cell only when Shiro sleeps, because he never meets him while he's awake. But he sees that some food was left there for him and takes it every time.

It's weird, because after a few days Shiro almost misses him.

Shiro misses to have something to look at in the depths of the Galra prison when nothing else happens. He misses the distraction from the fighting that leaves him sore and vulnerable.

The few seconds of contact with the guard always made him feel a little human again.

cw// injuries

After an especially bad day, Shiro's left alone with his injuries. It's like a fever dream coming true when he lies with his heavy body against the cold, dirty ground and hears quick footsteps arrive.

He barely notices the guard opening his cell.

"Here," he hisses in the dark and gives Shiro something to eat. The taste is bitter and it's hard to swallow, but for some reason Shiro complies.

It should be weird, the way he lies there and the guard hovers over him, softly stroking his hair.

Shortly after eating the ominous medicine, Shiro's pain ceases and the sharpness in his senses comes back.

He realizes that it could be his only chance to escape - he just needs to kill the guard who doesn't look like he could compare to Shiro's strength.

It would be easy to jump up and snap his neck and get out. Shiro wonders how much longer he could feign being unconscious.

"I'm Yorak," the guard says softly as he continuosly strokes his hair. "Shiro."

It could be easy to kill him, Shiro thinks, now that he's not paying attention.

But Shiro can't bring himself to do it. He has a name.

When Shiro's mind drifts into slumber, his whole body relaxes. For a few hours, the pain is gone. Shiro sleeps so deep that he doesn't take notice of Yorak leaving.

First he dreams of Yorak still sitting next to him, but quickly the dream merges into a darker fantasy.

Shiro snaps awake almost instantly before the dreams could get any realer. He breathes hard and scrambles away from the few strays of light that fall into the front part of the cell to the darker part where he leans against the grainy wall.

#nsfw He takes his pulsing dick out, pushing the stabs in his heart into the back of his mind, cursing quietly as to not draw any attention and quickly gets himself off.

He doesn't want to but he thinks about the guard pushing him down and taking whatever he wants from Shiro.

#nsfw #dubcon In Shiro's mind, the guard is brutal with him, pulling his hair and marking his body as he fucks him. In his fantasy, Shiro complies easily and lets the guard do what he wants.

Thankfully, it doesn't take long. Shiro never came so hard and fast in his life.

When he regains the ability to breath evenly, the reality of his fantasy just now sets in. Disgust coils in deep in his belly. What's worse: Hunger does, too.

Hunger for the pretty prison guard to use him exactly like he did in Shiro's fantasy.

A couple days later, the guard is back.

He watches Shiro for a couple of minutes. If he's thinking Shiro doesn't notice him, he's wrong. By now, Shiro has developed a seventh sense for him.

It feels weird that in his lonely days, Yorak is the one thing to highlight them.

"Why did you give me that medicine?" Shiro asks. His voice echoes in the emptiness of the prison. Yorak jolts.

Shiro watches him considering, then moving closer to the bars.

"I, uh. I didn't want you to die."

So far, so good, Shiro thinks. But also—
"You know sometimes dying feels like a better option than living locked up in this shit hole."

It's good to see that Yorak looks pained. Weirdly, Shiro still feels weird for making him feel that way.

It's the pity. He doesn't like it.

Shiro comes closer slowly, one hand at the bars. Yorak puts a few tentative steps back.

"I know why you're doing this," Shiro says. "I know what you want to get out of this."

Yorak looks at him puzzled. He's coming closer again, as if Shiro didn't try to kill him a few days before.

He's close enough to the bars and reaches for Shiro's hand on the bars.

At the contact, Shiro sucks in a breath. It's been so long since another person touched him without intent of killing him.

He looks at their hands, out of words to say. Then he quietly drops to his knees.

Shiro easily faces Yorak’s crotch because he’s so /so/ horny. He’s hungry to feel something else but hurt and anger every day and he has been fantasizing too long about the pretty Galra guard to not simply try making a move.

Yorak’s thighs visibly tense.

Shiro reaches for them through the metal bars, strokes over the cloth flat against Yorak’s body. He gets bolder, too and palms directly the clothed bulge just to hear Yorak’s sharp inhale.

“Shiro,” he breathes. “That’s not...you shouldn’t—“

“It’s not like you /can’t/ stop me.”

Against any better judgement, Yorak comes closer. Shiro‘s mouth is on his clothed dick, eager to get it into his mouth. He wants to taste him /so/ bad.

“Shiro,” Yorak groans and pushes his hips forward.

“Don’t call me that,” Shiro hisses and shoves the tight pants down.

Yorak steadies himself against the metal bars, grip on them tight in a desperate attempt to keep himself steady.

He doesn’t look at Shiro teasing the tip of his half-hard dick, doesn’t say anything, but—

“Champion—“ he groans.

The name spurs Shiro more on than it should.

Yorak's dick doesn't look a lot different from the usual human dick Shiro knows, except for it purplish color and a few nobbs at the side.

Shiro licks from the underside of the shaft to the tip and draws a hiss from the Galran guard.

When Shiro looks up, he sees him pressed against the metal bars, the usually tight braided hair losing strands. Shiro forgets about what he’s doing because Yorak looks really hot, and he’d give everything to have his dick inside of him.

But first, he wants him in his mouth.

Shiro wets his lips and takes him peu à peu deeper into his mouth. Yorak seemed to have forgotten how to speak because he’s mostly silent aside from hisses, growls and groans.

Soon Shiro sets a slow rhythm, curling his tongue and hollowing his cheeks.

He likes how dirty and used he’s feeling, even though Yorak hardly gives any commands or any reason for Shiro to believe that he /has/ to do this.

After a particularly loud groan, Shiro lets Yorak’s dick fall from his mouth and wipes his lips with the back of his hand.

“Good?” he asks and looks up again. Yorak looks already thoroughly fucked even though Shiro barely even started.

“Yes,” Yorak breathes. Then there’s a pause where he tries to even out his breath and opens one eye to look down at Shiro. “Please don’t bite my dick off.”

Shiro’s bark of laughter echoes in the prison cell. Yorak curiously opens his other eye. His cheeks are flushed red.

“I won’t,” Shiro says, amused.

If he bit his dick off, he’d be still trapped in the cell. If he’d flee the cell, there’d still be many who’d try catch him.

Shiro can enjoy himself at least a little.

“Champion,” Yorak sighs. His dick is twitching.

Shiro nods and takes him into his grip, slowly stroking the shaft up and down and curling his hand at the head.

There’s a deep grumbling sound coming from Yorak’s throat. It’s a purr.

It shouldn't be so endearing, but Shiro stares.

"What?" Yorak asks and looks down at him with one lazy eye.

"Uh," Shiro says, then averts his gaze. "Nothing." He then bends over to take Yorak's dick into his mouth. He's only teasing him, but Yorak groans loudly, already coming.

The following silence is very uncomfortable. Shiro wipes his mouth and sits down on the cold ground.

"T-thanks," Yorak says.

"You can return the favor," Shiro replies simply as he lies down on his back. He's getting exhausted by the minute.

Yorak's purplish face turns red.

He leaves.

And Shiro is left all by himself again.

Shiro feels used, but in the end it was his idea and Yorak, well. He was just there.

It doesn't change that the daily pressure of fighting for his life results in sleepless nights and horniness. Shiro feels restless. He wants to see the guard again-

But he's avoiding him again.

Shiro would give anything to have a companion in his cell, even if it was just to talk. The restless nights turn mad ones, and when Yorak finally turns back one day, Shiro feels like crying happy tears.

"Shiro," he calls out to him in what barely sounds like a whisper. Shiro already walks toward him, paces himself to be slow enough to not look desperate.

"Yorak-" he says.

"Actually," Yorak interrupts him. "It's better if you call me Keith."

"Call you what now?" Shiro asks dumbfounded. That name sounds weirdly....human.

"It's just," Keith fiddles with his finger. "Yorak is my Galran name."

Shiro thinks to himself that this situation is getting a whole lot weirder than he'd originally thought.

"Okay," he accepts it as it is. "What are you here for, Keith?"

Keith looks from right to left, then comes closer to the bars. "You have to trust me, alright? Champion-"

"Shiro," Shiro corrects him, cheeks red. "It's okay to call me Shiro, uh, now."

Keith nods slowly. "Tomorrow night, there's an opening," he explains with a hushed voice. "It might be your only chance to get out."

Shiro's breath hitches.

He presses his cheek against the metal bar, just to be closer.

"You'll help me out?"

Keith nods.

"Why?"

Truth to be told, Shiro would love to postpone this conversation and just get Keith into his cell and into him. But this is a glimpse of hope he's getting offered here. Even if he doesn't really believe in it.

"I can't explain," Keith says, eyes shifting to the side.

Shiro looks at him for a while. He wonders if Keith would tell him more if he only asked. If Keith will help him fleeing this place, this could be very well his last day. He should be happy he even got so far despite his illness, but-

"Will you come into my cell?" he whispers.