#sheith wedding meet cute, feral horny, bottom Shiro, lingerie
Keith catches the garter on reflex. He’s talking to Hunk, but something something flies near him and he just hoicks it out of the air. Looking down, he is horrified with himself. https://twitter.com/SashaDistan/status/1264874690352480258?s=20
So Keith is holding this lacy little thing in his hands and glares across at Hunk, who refuses to take it from him because Lance has seen already and there's no point trying to pretend he didn't catch it. And then Keith sees the man with the bouquet. Allura's bouquet.
He's only ever seen brides hold bouquets before. Bouquets instantly call forth images of fancy dresses and champagne flutes and lace. lace. soft lace, like the delicate white lace between his fingers.
but it would never fit around that guy's thighs. his thighs are huge, like the size of Keith waist. /oh great, now he's thinking about his thighs. Keith sweats. he wraps the garter around his fist, which is a bad idea because now he's looking at the fabric pulled tight over skin
/it would totally fit around his throat; his brain supplies helpfully. Keith is very upset that he waved away the last waiter who passed by with drinks, because his mouth is currently about as moist as the desert. /fuck. don't think about the word /moist/.
and then Big, Buff, Handsome, and Dashing Smile is walking toward him /holding a fucking bouquet/ and offering Keith his hand.
"Shall we?"
Keith very nearly swoons.
They pose for a photo. Lance is grinning like a loon, Allura look radiantly content. Keith keeps catching himself staring at the place where Gorgeous Stranger's neck vanishes under the pressed white collar of his shirt. He wants to know what that skin looks like with lace over it
Picture done, Keith wants equally to run away to his motorcycle and never look back - even though he never drinks and drives - and also pin this black and white haired Adonis to the nearest vertical surface and ravage him.
He pulls up every reserve of cool aloof and smiles.
There is a beat, maybe two, and Shiro doesn't look away, doesn't remove his hand from Keith's, makes no move to step back to a socially acceptable distance. Keith loses control of his mouth.
"You'd look great in lace."
Shiro flushes attractively pink.
Before Keith can actually die from embarrassment, Shiro hauls him closer by the handshake which has definitely developed into something else.
"You'd look great in bed."
"Yeah?" Keith hopes he doesn't sound too breathless. or maybe he does, he's not really sure.
Hasty, desperate one night stands are not supposed to be the precursor to great relationships. Keith knows this. It doesn’t stop him from following Shiro back to a suite in the hotel.
He bites a mark into Shiro's throat, lace garter still tight across his knuckles.
Shiro gets his hands into Keith clothes and the man is deadly accurate stroking over his cock. By the time Keith gets his tongue on Shiro's nipples he is practically done for.
"Keith? Baby, you OK?"
He should not like that name so much. Shiro's still stroking him, but slower now, tentative, like he would stop and pull away if Keith actually changed his mind. Keith wants to vibrate out of his fucking skin.
"'m close. I- god- unngh."
"It's OK, go on." Shiro words are accompanied by a warm squeeze of his cock. "We have all night right? You've still gotta get me in that lace..."
And that's it, Keith is done for. He comes in his clothes like a teenager, hanging onto Shiro's lapels like a lifeline,
and Shiro sounds so fucking pleased about it. "Yes baby, go on. That's it. Aren't you just so perfect..." No one had ever praised Keith like this. He hauls himself out of the temptation of afterglow, and slams his lips back into Shiro's.
"Such confidence for a man's who's going to be screaming my name in an hour," he growls.
"You're gonna make me wait that long?"
And fuck if such a bratty tone coming from such a greek god of a man isn't /doing/ things to Keith. He unwraps the garter from his hand.
He presses the lace over the bitten skin of Shiro's throat and grins. "It's gonna take more than an hour to treat you right, pretty boy. And I'm a gentleman." Shiro opens his mouth to retort, and Keith chooses that moment to fit both hands under his ass and hoist him up.
Whatever Shiro was going to say dies on his lips, big hands clutching Keith’s shoulders like he can’t quite believe he’s no longer touching the floor.
“You good?”
“You doubting me there big boy?”
“No Sir.”
Keith preens.
The suite is not the honeymoon one, thank fuck, but clearly the place where Allura and her wedding party got ready. Keith carries Shiro past various boxes and garment bags, and drops him with deliberate force onto a bed littered with tissue paper.
But not /just/ tissue paper.
“Spares?” Keith follows Shiro down onto the bed, fingers catching up the slip of white lace in amongst the pastel papers. Shiro spreads his knees automatically, and gulps.
“Reckon you could squeeze into it?”
“No.” Shiro’s grey eyes are blown, almost all pupil, and Keith can feel the undeniably huge length of the other man’s cock twitch against his thigh. “But for you I’d try.”
Keith makes a pleased noise, and begins parting the buttons of Shiro’s shirt.
He’s not hasty now, there’s time and Shiro doesn’t look like he wants to be anywhere else as Keith kisses a trail down each of his sculpted abs, thumbs open the button of his fly, and breaths hotly over his cock.
“Is that want you want?” Keith asks him, not touching.
“Yes. Anything.”
Shiro’s hands, one broad and warm and one smooth and metallic, haul him back up by the remains of his jacket. Keith loses himself in the kiss, the wet slide of lips and tongue and the way their bodies mould together. Shiro groans against him.
“Mm. Stay.”
Shiro looks like he’s the sort used to giving orders – big, put together like a superhero with a smile like a boyscout, a well tailored suit to rival the CEO of any Fortune500 company, but he does exactly as he’s told as Keith leans back up then scoots off the bed.
There’s something intimate about taking clothes off someone else, and Keith knows he’s being watched as he draws the trousers from Shiro’s long legs. He hopes he isn’t drooling too obviously over the girth of those thighs, the turn of his shapely ankle, the swell of a calf.
He can’t resist placing a kiss to the inside of his knee, the thin skin smooth against his lips. Then he runs his fingers up to the firm plush of Shiro’s arse.
“You good?” Keith hooks his fingertips into the waistband of his boxers. “Shiro, you still with me?”
“Yes. Fuck yes.”
Shiro’s cock is like the rest of him, thick, long, uncut, and hanging heavily to his left as Keith takes his time removing his underwear. Keith feels his pulse climb at the sight. He fists his hand around the new but discarded lace panties, slippery cloth between his fingers.
It takes a moment to tug the tags off with his teeth, and Keith knows there are lots of reasons why Lance didn’t make him best man, but he thinks stealing the brides underwear might be top of that list.
Keith has never actually dressed anyone before, but the joke he was going to make about it feeling wrong to put clothes /on/ before they’ve fucked never materializes, because there’s nothing funny about the way Shiro lifts one leg, toes pointed to slip into the first opening.
Lace looks /very/ good against Shiro’s skin, and Keith knows his fingers are shaking as he draws the flimsy fabric so so carefully up Shiro’s legs. It gets tight as soon as he’s over the knees, but Shiro is staring at him, breath shallow.
Keith has never met a challenge anything other than head on.
Shiro doesn’t say anything as he lifts his hips, the perfect curves of his arse on display for a mouth-watering moment as the straps of the material slip over them and dig into the muscle. The low cut front of the panties does little to cover Shiro’s cock.
“You tuck left?”
Shiro blushes hard, and his dick twitches, a shiny bead of pre at the tip that Keith desperately wants to lick off. He resists, it’s tough.
“Hey big guy.” Keith wonders if the fact that the first time he touches Shiro’s cock is to ease it under stretched stretch lace will haunt him more or less than the words he’s just allowed himself to direct to the member in question. He bites his lip. “One more thing.”
Shiro half sits up to bare his throat for the garter, and Keith straddles his thigh, their faces so close, breaths hot between them as Keith ties the pale blue ribbon into a bow. Shiro swallows, the lace moves with the motion of his skin.
“Hey. You too baby.”
Keith blinks at him, his brain refusing to parse an amount of information, both his remaining braincells totally occupied with the phrase ‘Shiro in lingerie’.
“You’re wearing too many clothes.”
Keith practically tears the suit off in his haste, and though second hand, it’s the only one he has. He doesn’t care. He dumps the fabric to the floor in order to scramble to the bed, but is stopped by Shiro’s breathless voice.
“Fuck, you’re gorgeous.”
“You can’t say that. Not when you’re...” Keith doesn’t want to waste energy blushing, not when his quickly chubbing cock is still tacky with the evidence of his first, hasty orgasm. “You’re gonna be the ruin of me.”
“Gosh, I do hope so.”
Keith grins and leans in for a kiss, nipping Shiro’s lower lip as he draws away. Somehow it’s easier to believe he’s here with this man who looks every fantasy he’s ever had made flesh when he’s being a brat.
“Someone’s cocky.”
“Occupational hazard.”
Keith kisses him again, harder, messier, artless with too much tongue, and feels Shiro shift his hips, rutting up against his thigh. Eager. He’s not the only one.
Keith spans his long fingers over the garter turned collar, holds Shiro’s throat, squeezing gently, as he licks and bites his way down the man’s perfect body. He wants to leave marks everywhere, to be remembered. He worries at Shiro’s obliques, hickey red like the tip of his cock
“Shh...” Keith wraps a hand around either hip, feeling the bit of the lace into Shiro’s flesh, and stares at the obscene buldge of his cock through the lacy panties. “I got you.”
He presses his face into the groove between thigh and the column of hard flesh, inhales deeply. Musk and citrus, sweat mixed with freshly showered skin and the clean scent of the panties. Keith wants to eat him alive.
He mouths over the fabric trapped head, the patterns of the lace textured against his tongue, the heat of Shiro’s cock making him groan. Shiro’s prosthetic hand lands in his hair, and Keith makes a pleased noise, sinking lower to lave along Shiro’s entire length.
It doesn’t take long for the panties to be ruined, almost completely transparent with saliva and the salty bursts from Shiro’s dripping cock. When Keith shifts lower on the bed, Shiro makes a strangled noise.
“What? No- I mean, yes. God yes. Please.”
Keith chews his lower lip thoughtfully as he brushes his thumbs along the seam of Shiro’s thighs and the lace. Shiro’s blush extends down his whole chest.
“When was the last time someone did /this/ for you?”
Shiro looks embarrassed when he answers.
“An age.”
Keith bends, presses a kiss directly below his navel.
“Oh pretty boy. I promise I’m gonna take such good care of you.” He waits for Shiro to nod before reaching down to hold and hoist his ankle. “Leg up, gorgeous.”
The view of Shiro with his legs open, and nothing between them but a single scrap of taut white lace, leaning up on his elbows and watching Keith from under the now shaggy fall of his bi-coloured fringe is something that Keith knows he will never forget.
His heart beats so loud it’s a wonder Shiro can’t hear it.
Shiro’s pink blush deepens. Keith inhales deeply, then places a most chaste kiss he can manage over lace.
“So pretty.”
The barrier of the lace is everything and nothing under Keith’s tongue. The scalloped edge against the smooth pillow of Shiro’s cheeks, the crease between arse and thigh, its heaven. Keith wraps long fingers around Shiro’s leg and drags him closer.
Shiro swears, groans, says something muffled by biting his knuckles as Keith parts his cheeks and licks his hole through the lace. He way his pulse jumps and his flesh flutters is addicting.
Keith wants to stay here forever.
Shiro’s hand is back in his hair, half tugging him away, half pressing him close, like he knows what he wants but he’s ashamed to ask. Keith wraps his fingers around the panty straps and tugs, forcing the fabric even tighter across Shiro’s eager cock
Shiro quivers under him, the muscle of his inner thigh twitching, lip blanched where his teeth bite into it so hard. Keith places a kiss over his dick, unable to hide his grin.
“I could do this all night.”
He can practically see the way Shiro’s pupils blow.
“I might explode if you don’t hurry up and fuck me now.”
Keith squeezes his thigh hard enough to leave half-moon marks in his skin.
“Aye aye, Captain.”
Shiro’s laugh is like music. Keith wants it again
The hotel is the sort which provides fully stocked bathroom supply baskets of their guests. There is lube, there are condoms, and Keith spares half a thought of thanks as he rolls one onto his hard-flushed cock. He kneels back between Shiro’s thighs
Shiro pulls him into a fucking filthy kiss, all tongue and tight fists in the back of his hair, yanking him close, framing his hips with his thighs and locking ankles in the small of his back. Any attempts at further prep are forgotten.
He can’t wait, doesn’t want to wait, slicks himself up and gets a hand between them to guide the blunt head of his cock to Shiro’s hole, yanking the lace aside, not caring when it tears. Shiro is hotter than the inside of the sun, tighter than a vice.
Keith is in love, and fully ruined for anyone else. That is a certainty.
Shiro is moaning his name, demanding he move, and Keith can do nothing but obey. It’s too fast and too hard and utterly perfect and Keith never wants it to end.
He growls. He grips Shiro’s hips tight enough to leave him with bruises. Every thrust is bone snapping. Shiro’s plush flesh bounces, Keith can’t look away.
He bends, bites over Shiro’s pert nipple, slams into him over and over until Shiro is clenching around him and whimpering his name, his cock spilling messily through the panties. Fierce pride blooms in Keith’s chest.
He slams his fist into the sheets, pistons into the clutching heat of Shiro’s perfect body, and comes silently, shaking, frozen, more feral and desperate than he’s ever felt.
Shiro’s hands reach out to him, warm palm over his heart.
Shiro guides him down, Keith’s arms can support him no longer, he’s done. Eventually he groans.
“You sound like I broke you.” Shiro murmurs, nosing into his hair, lips turned up, smiling.
“We broke something for sure.” Keith tugs, and the remaining lace straps snap under the pressure. He holds aloft the ruined underwear. “Next time we’ll have to get you panties that actually fit.”
“Next time?”
Just for a moment, Keith thinks he’s pushed it too far, but Shiro is smiling, his eyes soft, and when Keith drops the destroyed panties, Shiro’s fingers interlock with his immediately.
“Mmm… next time pretty boy.”
Shiro beams.
“Yes baby.”
No, rampant fucking of a virtual stranger should not end in happily ever afters. It shouldn’t, but maybe Keith was really good in a past life. Maybe he saved the universe or something. Maybe Shiro did too. He’d probably be better at it anyways.
Because today they stand side by side in white and black and Keith’s signature red on their ties and in the flowers everyone is wearing or holding.
It’s five years later, five years of kisses and amazing sex, staying up late watching old scifi shows, sharing food and laughter, hopes and dreams and nightmare. Five years, two apartment moves and a rescue cat called Black.
Five years, but they get a happily ever after.
And only Keith knows that Shiro has new, very dainty, bridal lingerie on under his suit.
He can’t wait to get his mouth on them.

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