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Chapter Text

Shiro’s been away for about two weeks now, Keith notes dully to himself, as he swings his Marmoran blade at a training bot.

The royal carrier only had orders to stop on several of Daibazaal’s moons for Shiro to meet with native Galrans and affirm his position as the Champion who’d slain Zarkon. Still, upon hearing of the sole contested moon, Xriso, where Galran soldiers were still unable to quash the few loyal to their previous overlord, Shiro being Shiro had taken it upon himself to join the fight there.

Keith’s blade sinks into the weak, unprotected machinery where the bot’s neck and shoulder meet, cleaving it in two with the force of his blow.

That’s number 42.

“Alright, stop training simulation.” Keith says, and at once purple light flares, encasing the room in its hazy glow. The bot fades, and Keith brushes off the holoscreen that pops up to let him know that he’s beaten his record for the fifth time this week.

Keith misses sparring with Shiro. The last time they’d been able to face each other in a ring seemed like a whole different life, when the world was still on fire and in chaos. Now, there’s a rocky semblance of peace, and yet Keith can’t touch Shiro in public with anything other than sex on his mind. Consorts are for fucking, not fighting, and most definitely not as the Champion’s equal.

He can’t help but snort at that. If only the Galran court knew how many times Keith’s thrown Shiro into the mat, or fucked Shiro so hard he’d cried under him. But Keith won’t ever do anything to displace the people’s trust in Shiro, especially after it’s been so hard won.

Shiro’s due back today, if Keith’s projections are correct. The last Keith’d heard from Shiro had been two days ago, when Shiro had sent him a short transmission from the carrier.

“We’re finally heading back, baby. It’s over. I can’t wait to see you,” Shiro’d gushed, and Keith had traced the flickering holovid faintly with his fingers, noting the lines grazing the corners of Shiro’s eyes and the weariness of his shoulders. There’d been a large bruise on his cheek that had caused his mate instincts to flare like burning embers in his gut. His mate was hurt, and Keith hadn’t been there to protect him.

“And, get this – we've with us some citizens from Xriso. I can’t wait to for you to meet them,” Shiro’d said with added enthusiasm, like he’d known Keith would be tearing himself up inside for not being with him.

But then there’d been an assertive “Conqueror, you’re needed on the bridge-”, and Shiro’d closed off the transmission quickly before the Galran soldier caught the Conqueror saying something with affection to his Consort.

Because a weakness like that isn’t allowed. The Champion can fuck and tear Keith apart, but the moment Shiro does anything like kiss warmth into his skin, it’d be all over. They’ve been keeping up this pretense for six months now, and Keith’s obediently continued to play his role as Consort to protect the rebellion and the war they’ve won.

It is at times humiliating, yes, and something Keith had never imagined a first night with his mate would ever entail. But it has earned him Shiro, Shiro on his knees with undying devotion for Keith, Shiro whispering “Good Mornings” into Keith’s hair and kissing his forehead before leaving for his duties without fail every day, Shiro who is kind and sweet, and Keith’s mate.

Keith misses the feel of Shiro’s chapped lips against his temple, Shiro’s scent in their shared chambers that is beginning to fade with his absence. That’s another thing – Shiro not being Galran means he doesn’t understand the intricacies of mate scenting, the depths of mate protectiveness that Keith feels for him. He tries though, bringing his used clothes to Keith, damp fabric covered in his sweat after a workout or a sparring session, and stroking Keith’s back as he breathes Shiro in. Shiro doesn’t understand how hard it is for Keith to walk with him, but to always keep a length away. How hard it is to want to touch, to breathe, to leave his scent all over Shiro so everyone knows – Shiro is his, his, and no one else’s. And how painful it is for Keith when Shiro goes a few days without leaving his scent on Keith – it’s a signal that Keith though mated isn’t taken care of, isn’t loved by his own mate. But if Shiro knew that he wasn’t offering Keith what he needed, it’d break his heart.

And Shiro needs to focus on more important things right now.

Usually that sort of thing, what people think of Keith wouldn’t matter, particularly if it’s fellow Galra. Scorned from birth for his dual parentage, Keith’s only been able to find his true place with the Blades. Shiro’s friends are pretty nice too, and Keith’s starting to get the hang of talking to some of them. But now, even seeing Shiro smile at other Galra makes Keith feel like he wants to crumble. Seeing Shiro’s hand on their arms, or him giving a friendly pat to another warrior makes Keith want to engage them in a traditional mating duel.

Shiro is handsome, and tall, and broad, and Galra all fling themselves at him left and right. Shiro always eases himself away, finds ways to avoid their attentions as best as he can. He draws Keith onto his lap, toying with Keith’s cunt till they lose interest, or realise Shiro’s not interested in them at the time. But Galra are persistent, and cunning, and Keith knows what it is like to want something as a Galra and be denied it. It cuts deep to his warrior roots, of Galra taking what they want by using any means, and Keith is afraid of what that means for their relationship. He himself had slaughtered and cut the enemy down during the war without a second thought, entirely focused on winning the battle and ending everything. Keith knows this drive is present, persistent in all Galra.

Galra are known for being possessive bitches, and Keith is one of them. There’s a Galran saying about how there’s no better reason to go to war than a mate and Keith’s starting to understand what it means. Paltry human concepts of jealousy are nothing in the face of a gut-wrenching threat to a Galran mating bond.

Keith’s musings are broken by a cry out in the hallway.

“The Conqueror has returned!” A clamor of Galra servants rush towards the Great Hall, their loud stampede audible through Keith’s locked door.

Shiro.

Keith takes off his Blade training suit and dons the daily traditional consort attire, a flowing translucent wrap that barely gives Keith any modesty. Bracing himself, he opens his door and moves with the crowd.

Galra obsess over powerful leaders, and Shiro has shown himself to be the best. He’s never failed in a fight, and his strategic mind and strength has won him the admiration of celebrated Galra warlords.

The scene before Keith can attest as to just how much Daibazaal reveres their Champion. Hundreds of Galra wait eagerly in the hall to welcome Shiro back planetside, whispers reverberating about the recent victory Shiro has brought to their realm. Keith takes his place, as he always does, by the foot of the throne in the center of the hall. He’s only allowed to sit on the throne when it’s in Shiro’s lap.

The tall double doors swing open, and Keith tries to keep his expression neutral as Shiro steps through them, waving and smiling at the cheering crowd. Keith mentally catalogs the fresh scars on his face and his neck, the only parts of Shiro visible from the heavy battle armour he wears. He clenches his fists tight, resisting the natural urge to run and climb Shiro like a tree. To rub his mate’s scent over himself and drown in it. To treat his wounds and never let him go where Keith can’t follow.

Shiro seems to be scanning the room, and Keith raises a hand, almost as if to call out – I’m here, Shiro, I’m here! – when Keith sees a strong, steady arm wrap around Shiro’s shoulders.

Keith’s cry dies on his lips, smothered in his throat. He watches as another Galra wraps himself around Shiro, dipping his head down to whisper something in Shiro’s ear, and Keith’s world goes still as Shiro chuckles with him, throwing his head back and arching his neck-

The feeling that pulsates in Keith’s stomach is painful and unwelcome, and it hurts like someone’s taken a brand to him. The Galra is tall, lithe, and an experienced warrior from what Keith can tell. The heavy sword and whip that coils in a circle at his belt are worn with use, and his armour is tethered tightly to his robes. His dark hair flows to his back, wild and untamed, held back by only a quintessence circlet with a dipping crescent symbol centered on his forehead. Keith’s eyes widen at that – the Galra must be royalty, an offshoot of Zarkon’s family line. Keith’s heart pounds as Shiro clasps hands with the Prince, and releases his hand for the Prince to salute and kneel to the throne.

Shiro begins his climb up to the throne, and Keith straightens in his position on the floor as Shiro reaches the top step. Keith raises his head to meet Shiro’s eyes, and finds Shiro already looking back, his eyes roaming over Keith hungrily.

“Keith,” Shiro breathes, and Keith can only see him. His kind face. His gentle smile. His strong body. Keith wants to touch him so badly, but he obediently waits till Shiro moves towards him.

The crowds around them fade, and all he can feel is Shiro’s hand sliding along his jaw, cupping his chin. Keith rises, pulling towards Shiro like a planet revolving around its sun. Shiro smells so good, like home, like Keith needs to get his scent all over him. He waits for a searing, claiming kiss from Shiro that bruises, makes his lips darken – the same welcome that Shiro has given after returning from all his missions, and to be pulled straight onto Shiro’s lap as Shiro gives announcements to the crowd.

It doesn’t happen. Keith feels Shiro’s hand leave his face, feels himself shift forward on his knees to empty air. He opens his eyes, and Shiro’s taken his seat on the throne without Keith on it. Keith’s palms hit the stone.

“The Conqueror has returned! Conqueror, Conqueror, Conqueror!”

The chant starts and Shiro raises a hand slowly to calm the masses. To anyone else, Shiro looks every part the indulgent ruler, but the stiffness with which he sits forward speaks volumes. Keith tries to decide what to do with himself – should he climb into Shiro’s lap, or would that be too forward? The disregard he’s received aches, and dressed up in the floaty, translucent attire that hides nothing and shows everything, Keith wants to curl up on the hard, cold floor.

They’ve spoken about this – Shiro being taciturn and removed, so that no one will think that he treasures Keith more than he ought to. It’s a common Galra trait to want and take only the best for yourself, and what else is better than claiming what the Conqueror holds dear? No, it is safer for them both that Shiro is seen to only love him for his body, for the kits he might have in the future that secure Shiro’s reign.

But this indifference aches like he’s been sliced open from shoulder to sternum. All his Galra instincts are crying out, pressing a brand to his chest.

When the hall is quiet, Shiro speaks, his powerful voice reverberating off the walls.

“We have liberated Xriso, with the help of Prince Sipho.” Shiro smiles generously down at the Prince, who bows and waves generously to the crowds. Keith’s heart feels like its melting in his chest at the look Sipho shoots Shiro, all heat and no finesse. “We will be throwing a feast tonight in his honour and for all the people of Xriso.”

Keith stares as Shiro gets off the throne in one swift movement, without sparing a glance or a hand to Keith, without sheathing Keith on his cock and carrying him out of the room as he is wont to do.

He watches as Shiro walks out with Prince Sipho, their elbows almost touching with the way Sipho leans down into Shiro’s space and whispers, and feels every bit a common, used consort.

==

It is almost time for the feast, and Shiro has not returned to their quarters.

Keith can’t help the way his scent coils around him, panic sour like a defensive mechanism. He’d spent the better part of the afternoon pacing and trying to figure out what game Sipho was playing. Perhaps he had cast old magic on Shiro, or found a way to ensnare him with pheromones.

That seemed unlikely. Shiro seemed immune to the persuasiveness of pheromones. He barely noticed when Keith exuded his, or scented Shiro. Or maybe he only pretended to be unaffected. Maybe he felt nothing for Keith, so Keith’s pheromones did not affect him as deeply.

Or maybe Shiro had simply found a better match for himself. The thought curdles like old milk in Keith’s mind, rancid and bitter in his chest. Maybe Shiro had never taken their fledgling soulbond seriously. Their first mating had been for show at first, after all. It had just been something to secure a victory. Keith had been a tool in that game, and now maybe he had deluded himself into thinking he no longer was one to Shiro. Shiro might have been taken with him and his body then, and now he had found something closer to his tastes. Not a mixed breed orphaned Galra, who had half the stamina and strength of other Galra.

Or maybe Prince Sipho had offered himself up to Shiro along with his people. Maybe Shiro had found himself wanting, with only having someone like Keith as his consort, and he had accepted Sipho as another, or as a first consort and Keith was to be the second. Prince Sipho could give him stability, and secure Shiro’s place as Conqueror if Shiro proceeded to accept him for a betrothal. Prince Sipho is popular on distant Galran moons and among the royal court, if the impressed whispers are anything to go by. Whereas Keith is a castoff Rebel fighter, who has nothing, no land nor people to offer Shiro. The kits Keith gives to Shiro will be weaker than those Prince Sipho can bear for him. All Keith has, he has already offered to Shiro – his body and his heart for Shiro with which Shiro can do whatever he likes. Keith does not know why that has started feeling insufficient.

In every scenario, Prince Sipho has Keith beat.

Yet, it is hard to believe this, that Shiro has so easily cast him aside. Shiro knows how much Keith despises the idea of sharing him with anyone else. Shiro is the first person Keith has let see and take all of him. Shiro has seen his heart, and called it good.

Shiro is kind, Shiro is loyal, Keith thinks helplessly. Shiro has done nothing but love you.

Shiro kisses Keith when he wakes up in the night sweating from nightmares of the war, mouthing down Keith’s back and holding him close. Shiro presses Keith down into the mat after a long bout of sparring gently, tenderly running his hand through Keith’s hair. Shiro whispers how precious he is every time he spreads Keith’s folds and pushes into him, bruises Keith’s hips with his fingers when he fills him.

But then why did Shiro’s gaze pass over Keith like he was nothing but air? Why did Shiro treat him so callously? Does he not care for Keith’s wounded pride?

Has Keith promised himself to someone who would so easily throw him away?

Keith has to bite down on fingers he stuffs into his mouth to stop himself from crying out with pain at the anxiety of losing his mate. His eyes fill with tears, unbidden, and Keith snarls as he wipes them away. He cannot just sit here and do nothing. Keith isn’t one of the Rebel fighters who pulled Zarkon from his throne just by letting things pass him by. Keith has fought for his place like he was starving since he was born. He allows himself to resent it then, resent the bond that is making him so weak.

The clock reads a varga left till the dinner. If Shiro truly is with Prince Sipho, and is not coming back to Keith’s arms, then Keith is going to win him back. It is, after all, the Galra way to fight for what you want, tooth and nail.

Keith turns to his wardrobe, and plans.

Chapter Text

Keith waits in a sheltered corridor off the palace hall, listening to the sounds of ongoing merriment and pleasure that leak from the doors every time someone enters or leaves.

Shiro must be in the hall already – Keith had waited till the very last moment to see if he would fetch Keith and head to the banquet together as he usually would for any royal event, but he did not. The embers in his chest grow into a wildfire that he must tamp down if he wants the next part of his plan to work.

Holding his head high, the guards swing open the double doors as they announce the arrival of the Conqueror’s Consort. Keith had planned a late entrance so that all eyes would be on him, and they surely are, as he steps past the gilded door.

Around him, goblets full of wine fall to the floor, and muttered curses and gasps resound, but Keith only has eyes for one man. He looks up to the elevated throne, and across the room, Shiro stares back at him, mouth agape. His plate meets the marble floor in a loud clatter. Prince Sipho stands next to him on the dais, clutching a plate and a goblet of wine. He too looks shocked, eyes wide and blinking. They must have been talking.

Keith suppresses the urge to growl at the Prince to back off, and lets his body do the talking.

A lacy gold harness sits across his chest, gently framing and lifting his bare breasts. Thin strips of gold fabric wrap around his waist to meet above his cunt, and one long thin line dips into his slit, sitting between his cheeks to loop back to the strands around the waist. The rest of him is naked, glistening skin, smoothed by fragrant cream that Keith has rubbed into his skin.

He has lined his eyes and smudged the edges for a smokey look, and rubbed rouge onto his cheeks and lips. Keith had fingered himself to completion before leaving for the hall, and he has left the evidence on himself, a sticky, reflective layer between his upper thighs and above his mound that gleam in the light. He had teased at his breasts, just a little, to make them produce beads of milk at each nipple. They hover and drip slowly as he makes his way to the center of the room.

He is not wanting and desperate, not like the first time with Shiro. No, this time Keith takes his own pleasure where he wants it. His pheromones flood the air with every step, wafting indulgently through the hall. He knows he looks every bit a consort slut, darkened lips and leaking slick. But that isn’t even the best part.

Slowly, he turns on the vibrator that he has slid deep into his cunt. Immediately, the silenced room is filled with the buzz of the vibrator working its way in him, pressing hard against the sensitive nerves within his pussy. The response of his body is quick – slick starting to trail to his knees, globs of it escaping his plugged cunt to fall to the ground with accompanying splatters. His legs tremble at the force of the vibrations, and they tug at his lower belly insistently. Around Keith, partygoers are already starting to rub themselves to the sight of him.

Shiro lets out a choked cough, running his eyes down Keith’s form, up and down. His gaze lingers between his legs, but when Keith shudders at the vibrations, Shiro’s eyes snap back to his face. His mouth is still hanging open, and he looks helpless.

Keith stares back at Shiro expectantly, as if to say, well?

But Shiro only stares at him, swallows, then looks away. He wets his lips twice with his tongue, but starts his conversation with Prince Sipho again. In a second, it is as if nothing has changed. The room is heavily charged now, but all partygoers take their cue from the Conqueror, and continue their revelry hesitantly.

Keith’s heart seizes in his chest, and his feelings of fear and rejection only grow stronger. Why had he ever trusted Shiro in the first place? It is clear Shiro has used and dumped Keith’s affections easily. Maybe he really is nothing to Shiro, a consort for his pleasure. To be disregarded yet again, and in such a humiliating manner twice in such quick succession is all Keith can bear.

Fine.

Finding a warlord directly in Shiro’s view below the throne is simple. He’s already entranced by Keith, and it is a simple matter to sway his hips, play at his nipples, and then take a seat next to him. Keith can feel the burn of Shiro’s gaze on him even as he meets the warlord’s eyes. Good.

“What’s your name?” Keith asks, panting slightly from the vibrations that press at his clit from his position on the chair. He makes sure to jut out his full chest and bite down on his lower lip, squirming his wet thighs together in a way that makes his folds squelch loudly together. Keith knows he is irresistible to any Galra like this. Looking helplessly turned on, smelling terribly fertile, and without a mate, Keith is practically begging for someone to fill him up.

“I-” The warlord looks uncertain, and it must be his respect for Shiro that keeps him from reaching out to touch the breasts Keith toy with. His eyes are starting to haze over with the full force of Keith’s pheromones where they bloom strongly from his slick cunt. Still, he begins to inch closer. “It is Vrenik.”

 “Vrenik, what a strong, powerful name,” Keith whispers, and slides a hand up Vrenik’s forearm. He can already see a tenting in Vrenik’s trousers, and privately commends Vrenik’s self-control. “I- ah!”

Keith clutches at the table as the vibrations crest within him, rubbing against his clit to make it stiffen and swell. He gasps openly now, standing up from the seat and bending over the table, clutching hard to it to make sure he doesn’t come. Not yet. Slick continues to trail past his cheeks, staining Vrenik’s trousers where Keith’s leg bumps into it.

What is Shiro doing? Keith turns his head ever so slightly to see Shiro talking and chuckling with Prince Sipho on the throne, as if Keith offering himself up to another is a negligible idea. The bitterness that blooms in Keith’s mouth is strong and painful. Obviously Shiro never cared for Keith as much as Keith does for Shiro. It is a simple fact, and one that is common between Galra leaders and their consorts, who get replaced all the time. Why did Keith ever think Shiro might be different?

He blinks away the tears that have begun to form in his eyes and turns his head to Vrenik, who is openly staring at the jut of the vibrator plug in his cunt. Keith squirms a little where he’s standing against the table, and is rewarded with Vrenik’s heavy breathing as another line of slick leaks from him. He leans forward, clenching and unclenching his hole rhythmically to push the vibrator out. It lands on the floor just as Keith’s orgasm hits him, and he squirts a gush of liquid onto the floor, crying out. The crowd starts to form a circle around Keith, who’s lying flat on the table, his holes and thick cunt lips on display.

Keith almost laughs to himself, struggling to find the words to process how his mating bond has been torn from him so easily, how he has been passed over for a prettier face. It is this reckless feeling that has him further arch out his ass and tiptoe, wiggling enticingly. He knows how he looks, that his loose folds will be glistening with slick and completely tantalising to everyone in the room.

“Does anyone want to touch?” The words leave Keith’s mouth before he can think them through, and he feels the ghost of Vrenik’s fingers pass over his cunt. Two of them swipe down his puffy lips to tease at his clit for a second. The wrongness in Keith’s chest grows but he does not know what to feel anymore. If he is so easily discarded, then perhaps he should be a plaything for the Galra court, content to see only glimpses of Shiro, and bow down to him even as he fucks another on the throne.

Vrenik’s two fingers position themselves at Keith’s open hole, and Keith takes a breath, expecting them to breach it. But nothing comes.

Instead, there is a sound of hand punching through a chest, and Vrenik is thrown from his side across the room to loud shouts of surprise and horror.

Keith turns his head to see Shiro standing behind him, his outstretched hand glowing and shaking. His face is carved into a snarl, and when he meets Keith’s eyes, his pupils are dilated, and almost completely black.

“Shiro-” Keith struggles, and finds himself roughly pushed back against the table by a firm hand. His breasts collide and press hard against the surface. It hurts so much. Even now, Keith cannot bring himself to feel betrayed by how he loves the familiarity of it. From the corner of his eye he notices Prince Sipho hanging back in the crowd, his eyes darting to Shiro and back to Keith. His eyes are narrowed, his face taught with jealousy.

“Stay down, slut,” Shiro breathes, and oh.

Keith’s world narrows to the hard press of fingers on his back, and he can only tremble in anticipation and fear.

 “Who would have thought my consort would ever undermine my authority like this?” Shiro roars out to the crowd, and everyone who had been standing too close scrambles to move a few paces back. “And everyone who has even dared to touch or lust over my consort – is this the respect you have for your Conqueror?”

He hooks a finger in the thin golden band pressed into Keith’s cunt, pulls on it, and lets it slap back deep into his folds, against his hole and clit with a loud thwack. Keith cries out, trying to lift himself off the table, but Shiro simply holds him down, and his pressed nipples start to leak milk copiously. It stains the tablecloth and runs down the edge of the table to drip on the floor, but Shiro’s hand is steady.

“I think I should teach you a lesson,” Shiro says, and it is harsh and cutting. There’s also another element to it that sounds like jagged hurt, but when Keith raises his head, for the first time he finds he cannot read the expression on Shiro’s face. Then it hardens, Shiro’s eyes darkening. “You’re going to take everything I give you; you understand?”

Keith can recognise this as a kindness, but one he doesn’t want. He doesn’t want Shiro’s tenderness. If Shiro is going to fuck him like he loves him then fuck another right after, he doesn’t want it. He raises his head to meet Shiro’s glare with a taunting smirk wide on his lips. “Why don’t you prove that you have something to give me in the first place?”

“Oh, believe me,” Shiro says, and it is angry. “I will.”

He pulls Keith’s hips and flips him, so he slides down the table, hard enough to bruise. Keith’s back is to the table, his legs pressed to his chest. Then Shiro thrusts three fingers into Keith without warning. Keith cannot help the way he screams, suddenly plugged so full of Shiro’s thick digits he can taste them in his mouth. He rams them into Keith’s hole that isn’t wet enough, and the dry slide of Shiro’s fingers against his walls edges on pain, even as pleasure shoots through him as Shiro fingers him so hard the table rocks. His fingers are a blur between Keith’s legs, pressing insistently on the bundle of nerves within him without relenting. Keith tries to struggle upwards so Shiro will touch his clit, but Shiro stubbornly avoids it though it protrudes heavily from its hood, aching and ignored.

Milk floods down Keith’s chest as he bounces from the strength of Shiro’s arm pushing into him, spraying white liquid in thin arcs, as Keith moans from Shiro’s unforgiving penetration of his cunt.

“Shiro, ah, Shiro-” Keith cries, and is met with a sharp slap across his cheek. His head snaps up in surprise, and Shiro stares down at him, withdrawing his fingers from Keith’s cunt. It is the first time Shiro has ever slapped him out of their quarters.

“Do not call me Shiro,” Shiro hisses at him, unzipping his trousers with the hand he doesn’t have braced on Keith’s shoulder. He pulls out his dick from its confines, where it rests against his stomach. “I am your Conqueror.”

He massages and pulls at Keith’s breasts shamelessly, and Keith cannot find it in himself to shy away from the stares of the crowd as Shiro thumbs his nipples and pushes his fingers into Keith’s mouth. Keith sucks on them obediently, and squirms some more from the emptiness between his thighs. When Shiro pulls them from Keith’s mouth they are thick with saliva, thin strands of it connecting Shiro’s hand to his lips.

“Conqueror, ah, please,” Keith heaves, his chest rising and falling, and watches as Shiro tugs and slaps his breasts to make them shake. He gestures at his neglected cunt, lifting his hips and wrapping his legs around Shiro’s waist to draw him in the way he knows Shiro loves. Shiro’s cock slides between his folds as Keith grinds down on it shamelessly, smearing Shiro’s precome all over his cunt lips, his clit, and the hair above his mound. He knows Shiro likes how his come rests in Keith’s dark curls, to see the contrast of its white against the black. “Fuck me, please. Breed me, I need your-”

Shiro stiffens at Keith’s words, pushing himself away from the table with a growl, and Keith quickly staggers to his feet before he falls. The harness around his body is so wet and stained it is tearing, and Keith pulls away the strands to drop them at his feet.

“Conqueror-” Keith says, reaching out a hand to Shiro, who stares at him coldly. Keith flinches back, numb, and drops to all fours.

“You still think you can give me orders,” Shiro says, and his voice shakes from fury. “You are lucky to be fucked by me.” Keith has never seen Shiro so angry, even during the war. This is personal, and painful.

Keith swallows, nodding silently against the floor. Shiro stares at him, his mouth tight, and Keith feels his heart break a little. Crawling forward, Keith rests at Shiro’s feet.

“Forgive me, Conqueror.” Keith says, and finds he means it with the way Shiro is looking at him, unreachable depths in his black eyes. Whatever Shiro has done, Keith never wants him to look like this, like the world has fallen out from under his feet. “I do not deserve to be fucked by you. I- I- this one is only worthy to take it from your feet.”

“This consort is sorry.” Keith kisses Shiro’s boots tearfully, his body thrumming with proximity to Shiro and from how he has only come once. Shiro stands as still as a statue, hands by his side as Keith levers himself onto Shiro’s foot. He kisses his way up Shiro’s calves, pressing one to each knee. Shiro’s thick cock still sits hard and red against his belly, but it feels like Keith has not done enough to touch it.

Keith chokes back sobs and with trembling hands, holds on to Shiro’s thighs as he rides Shiro’s boot. The thick laces rub into his cunt, and he spills and smears slick all over them. He pauses to push heavily into the hard cuts of leather on his shoe, the tongue of it providing little stimulation for Keith’s swollen clit. He positions Shiro’s thigh in between his breasts, rubbing his chest against Shiro’s leg and spreading his milk on all over the fabric. He presses his lips to the crease of Shiro’s pants at the bottom of his crotch, inhaling and sucking the bunched cloth into his mouth.

He must look a sight, a puddle of slick beneath him, his eyes surely more smudged than before from his tears, and lips blood red from silencing his cries by biting down on it. Rubbing himself off on Shiro’s boot feels like penance, and Keith wants to remain vengeful, or hate Shiro for what he’s done to Keith but he cannot.

Shiro stands stock still as Keith supplicates himself at Shiro’s feet, raising himself off the floor in a squat with his thighs spread, to fully bare and part his cunt lips between his fingers. He moves forward to press his pussy flat against Shiro’s shin and thrust into it, moving up and down. Shiro’s pant leg soaks in Keith’s fluids, but still Shiro does not move, staring straight ahead as Keith comes with a whimper, squirting on and shaking against Shiro’s leg.

Keith leans back after blinking the stars out from his vision, panting from his tears. He garners the courage to look up at Shiro, who meets his gaze with a carefully blank stare. His thighs are spread, and he is open to Shiro, his leaking hole, everything.

There is no warning before Shiro raises his foot, and steps down hard on Keith’s cunt, grinding his sole into it as Keith screams in shock.

“Harder, please, god-” Keith sobs, drool escaping the corner of his lips. Shiro steps more firmly into his cunt, then presses Keith flat on the ground with his foot. Keith keeps his thighs spread, watching as Shiro takes in how bruised and red his plump folds are, and then presses the toe of his boot on Keith’s breasts, causing him to spasm and keen as milk rolls down his belly.

Then, he raises his foot and puts it back on the ground.

“Do you like it when I step on you?” Shiro asks, and it is too quiet.

“Yes, yes,” Keith murmurs, and slowly sits up, dragging himself back to sit at Shiro’s feet with his legs spread wide open like a good consort.

“You’re a good fuck toy,” Shiro says, nonchalantly and finally, finally, wraps his hand firmly around his huge cock. Keith’s mouth waters, and he reaches for it unconsciously as Shiro starts to slide a hand up and down his cock slowly. He knows the words sound like they should sting, but they seem somewhat pointed, with no heat or feeling behind them. “Just there for me to fuck. I bet you just want everyone here to come in your loose pussy, to breed you. You won’t even know who the father of your kits is with all the come inside of you, you whore.”

“No,” Keith cries out, and Shiro’s gaze snaps back to him. Somehow this seems important, and Keith wants to tell him. “I know who the father of my kits will be.”

“Really,” Shiro says, and his hand stills on his cock, his eyes roving over Keith’s tear stained face. He bends to cup Keith’s face, and Keith turns to nuzzle into his palm obediently. His thumb pushes at Keith’s lower lip and slips into his mouth, and Keith sucks at it, licking it like his life depends on it. It is salty, a mix of Keith’s fluids and the sweat and musk of Shiro’s cock. Keith wouldn’t trade this feeling for anything in the world.

“Yes,” Keith says, as firmly as he can through his desire when Shiro pulls back. “You. It will only ever be you.”

Shiro’s eyes widen, and in one swift move, he pushes Keith back to the ground, slotting himself between Keith’s thighs like he belongs there. His hand cups the back of Keith’s neck, fingers tracing gently over Keith’s chin.

“Keith, I-” Shiro begins, looking lost, but his eyes dart to the expectant crowd, and a familiar veneer settles over his expression. He grasps the back of Keith’s knees and pushes his legs back till his knees hit the cold floor next to his head. Here Keith is entirely exposed, his cunt chilled by the air. He cannot find it within himself to shy away or cover his face when Shiro is looking at him like that.

Then Shiro lowers his head, and licks a deep, thick stripe up Keith’s folds. He eats Keith out slowly, dedicatedly, just like how he does when they’re alone together. This is not like how a Conqueror acts, caring of his Consort’s pleasure. No, Shiro takes his time to dip his tongue and suck on every individual fold till it plumps in his mouth, to curl his tongue around Keith’s clit and tease at it with warm breaths. Shiro tucks his tongue and plunges it into Keith’s hole eagerly, rubbing his whole face into his cunt, uncaring of Keith’s fluids that stick in his eyelashes, cover his nose. He rubs his hands over Keith’s inner thighs, tracing circles into his hipbone with his thumb.

Keith can only sob into his hand, shaking and squirming on the floor till Shiro seizes his hand and intertwines his fingers with Keith’s.

“Let me hear you, baby,” Shiro says, and Keith stares up at him, aghast. This has already been teetering on the edge of too intimate, too loving, and it is too dangerous. Already, murmurs grow at Shiro’s affectionate words. Keith swallows.

“Conqueror, this one needs your cock.” Keith pulls his hand away from Shiro’s, and uses one to cup his breasts together in a position that he’s practised to be alluring. He pulls open his folds with the other, displaying his twitching, neglected hole to Shiro. “Give it to me, please, our benevolent ruler, daddy-”

Shiro stares down at him, uncomprehending though Keith is begging. It seems Keith must do something drastic.

“Please, Conqueror, fill me up,” Keith croons, injecting his most pleading tone into his voice. He chooses to play on a fantasy he’s noticed of Shiro’s that Shiro has never dared to raise – of seeing Keith pregnant with his kits. “I have no contraception – you could make me big and round right now, carrying your your litter in me. All I want to do is be your slut, and remain full and stretched for you all the time, I swear, just always having your cock in me, everywhere, fucking me all the time, when I’m asleep, when I’m round, when I’m in labour-” It is true – Keith hasn’t been taking contraception since they’d decided that they wouldn’t mind having a kit of their own, but the crowd doesn’t need to know that.

With a growl, Shiro pulls Keith towards him, and shoves his thick cock into Keith in one thrust. Keith wails, automatically drawing away, but Shiro pins him down. It is too big and too large and too hot, and no matter how many times Keith takes it penetration is never easy. Keith scrabbles for purchase on Shiro’s shoulders, panting as his girth stretches Keith’s walls and drags against his folds when Shiro settles himself deep in Keith. The head of his cock rests on Keith’s cervix, and Keith screams as Shiro pulls out and shoves back into him, breaching his cervix with his first shove. It’s going to be one of those fucks, when Shiro is so deep inside of Keith and he just wants to push even further.

“Wait, ah-” Keith cuts off as Shiro presses his weight on top of Keith with every thrust back into Keith’s body, interlinking their hands and leaning fully on Keith with each drive into Keith’s cunt. It’s excruciating and the best thing Keith has ever felt, with his mate’s scent covering his whole body. “Fuck, Shiro, I can’t-”

Shiro bends down to delve his tongue into Keith’s mouth, and Keith can only moan and weep against his lips in return. With every weighty drag and breach of his womb, Keith can only cry and strain against the floor, stopped from rising by Shiro’s weight on top of him, restraining him to the ground and surrounding him entirely with his scent. He’s completely at the mercy of how Shiro wants to use him, and Keith knows Shiro loves it, impaling him fervently on his dick. His hips piston so roughly, his balls smacking against Keith’s ass with every thrust, that Keith can only squirt endlessly around his massive cock, tearing up as he clenches down on Shiro’s cock sheathed so thickly within him. Shiro’s breath is hot and heavy against his ear, his tongue licking up Keith’s neck like a brand and Keith can’t think, he can’t do anything but lie there and take what Shiro will give him. He’s crying louder now, messy tears that turn into whimpers and crest again when Shiro pounds into him, harder and faster.

“Ah- ah- ah-” Keith chants like a prayer as Shiro reaches between them to squeeze and twist Keith’s clit, and proceed to roughly rub and grip it. He should be ashamed at the faint squirts that drip down Shiro’s cock at his handling of him, but Keith can’t find it within him, not when he’s getting fucked out of his mind the way he likes it. “Shiro, I want, I want-”

Shiro slaps at his clit and Keith cries out, tightening on Shiro’s cock as he comes. Shiro slows and Keith whines as he lifts his torso off Keith. He sits back on his heels, seemingly content with watching Keith’s small opening attempt to contain and clutch on to his cock as it moves in and out of him. Keith whimpers at the sight of his swollen lips dragging against the thick vein on the underside of Shiro’s cock. Shiro thrusts once, twice, then seizes Keith’s hips to drive back into him and come with a growl. Keith cries out at the feeling of thick, warm come flooding his cunt, and slipping out of it around Shiro’s cock. His stomach bloats, a roundedness that Shiro smooths his hand over, looking satisfied.

Keith struggles to catch his breath and shift backwards as if to get off Shiro’s cock, but Shiro’s hands don’t leave his hips. He looks up at Shiro, lying in a puddle of fluids, smelling like Shiro, come all over his abused pussy and thighs, and Shiro looks back steadily.

“I’m not done with you yet, slut,” Shiro says, and there’s an indulgent smile playing on his lips. He shifts again, causing his cock to move within Keith, and both he and Keith groan at the feeling of overstimulation. Keith’s still trembling, shaking and exhausted from the aftershocks of his orgasm. But Keith wants to play the game if Shiro does, so he continues.

“Conqueror,” Keith says, and pouts, eyes growing wide and fucked-out as he drags a hand through the wetness along the seam where Shiro’s cock disappears into him and licks at it with small kitten licks. “What more could you want from this whore?”

Shiro holds up the vibrator plug that Keith had dropped on the floor, and holds it against Keith’s entrance. It buzzes faintly, and Keith stares up at Shiro in shock. There’s no space for that eight inch plug and Shiro’s cock in his pussy, and both Keith and Shiro know it.

“You will take it.” Shiro’s voice is low and hard, and it’s the only warning Keith gets.

Keith starts, then screams as Shiro starts to push the plug in alongside his cock. His whole cunt is on fire, and Keith bucks his hips up wildly, breathing heavily as tears leak down his face. Shiro runs his hand – the one that’s not slowly, inexorably, pushing a second dick into Keith’s pussy and working it into him with obscene squelching noises – down Keith’s front, pinching his nipples and thumbing at his clit. Every flick and rub of Keith’s clit allows the plug to ease into him, vibrating firmly against Keith’s pleasure spot no matter how he twists and shudders on the floor. Shiro presses down hard on Keith’s lower belly when the vibrator is sheathed halfway, and the dual points of pain and pleasure rocket through him. His firm hand makes it harder for the dildo to shove into Keith, but the increased friction makes sparks shoot up his spine and cloud his vision.

Shiro works the vibrator into him relentlessly, pounding it and punching it into Keith’s pussy with sharp thrusts that steals the breath from Keith’s lungs so he can barely cry out. The vibrator makes Shiro’s dick move within Keith too, and he can feel Shiro grow harder and longer within him. His stomach is now a large, engorged hump and Keith’s crying helplessly on the floor, shaking with the stimulation. His legs twitch endlessly, his folds blurring with the movement of the vibrator, and Keith has never felt so full in his life.

He’s a mess, drooling and whining on the floor, his head filled with the buzzing of the vibrator and Shiro’s length within him that he barely realises when Shiro pushes the vibrator fully inside him, forcing his walls apart. He’s so stuffed and quivering against the floor, rising off it and falling back down weakly.

“Fuck,” Shiro says, tracing his palms down Keith’s sides as Keith struggles to accommodate the stretch of the two girths within him. It should be too big, too much, but the vibrator sits firmly in his body alongside Shiro’s cock. It is steadily leaking precome into him, despite Shiro’s calm demeanor. “Your hole is so tight around me, you want two cocks, three cocks in you, don’t you, slut-”

“Just one,” Keith whimpers, and mindlessly pushes back onto Shiro’s dick, hips begging for Shiro to move. The vibrator is so deep in him the pulses reach and shake his clit, and Keith needs Shiro to fuck him now, harder, but it feels so constricted in his cunt he isn’t sure what can happen. He’s ruined for being empty ever again. He can’t imagine how he’ll go on without a dick, Shiro’s dick, always inside of him. “Conqueror, please-”

“Don’t worry,” Shiro says. It’s low and velvety, and it goes straight to Keith’s cunt, making him leak and clench around Shiro. He’s obviously read Keith’s thoughts off his desperate, wanton face. He rubs at Keith’s engorged and raw clit, and Keith cries harder, tears streaming down his neck and onto his chest, mixing in with the milk he’s leaking from his sore breasts from Shiro’s rough handling.  “You’ve shown me you can’t control what you do with your slutty hole, so I won’t ever let you off my dick again.”

“Yes, god, fuck,” Keith moans, pulling his thighs further back so his knees touch his shoulders and Shiro can see exactly what he’s doing to Keith. The change in angle makes Shiro slide even deeper into Keith, the head of his cock penetrating his cervix and plugging his womb up firmly. Keith can’t even cry out from the pain, because the pleasure he’s feeling overpowers it and mutes it. “I can’t live without your cock, without you, please, give me a baby, fuck me so hard my womb can’t close, god-”

Shiro pulls back and drives into Keith abruptly, starting to pound back into him with a harsh gasp. But as he pulls back, he pushes the vibrator in harder, taking turns to fuck Keith on both dicks, the loud, wet squelches of Shiro using his cunt as he lies there like a fuck doll echoing off the walls of the hall. The sensation of two dicks taking turns to pound into Keith turns him into a sobbing, wailing mess who scratches his way down Shiro’s back, holding on for dear life as Shiro unremittingly fucks into him, gaping the opening to his womb, pushing apart his folds, and using Keith’s mostly unresponsive body for his pleasure. Keith can feel his eyes start to glaze over, as he lays back, taking all Shiro has to give him.

Shiro’s panting grows harsher, his thrusts growing even more erratic, and Keith can’t help but meet his fevered gaze, and slide a wet, soiled, trembling hand against his cheek to cup his face. Shiro slows a little, swallowing as Keith’s hand wipes away a tear forming at the corner of his eye, and Keith can’t help but smile up at his mate. He knows he looks used, debauched, but for some reason it feels like there is only him and Shiro in this moment.

“Claim me, make me yours,” Keith whispers, and Shiro’s eyes widen before he snaps his hips, once, twice, and thrusts into Keith’s womb, flooding it with hot, thick come. Black floods his vision, and Keith is on the verge of passing out, moving in and out of consciousness as Shiro continues to fuck him through his orgasm. When his vision clears, he can only close his eyes and rest his head back on the floor as Shiro pounds into him, frothing and churning the come inside of him and pushing a little of it out around his cock that leaks down Keith’s ass and onto the floor. Shiro’s coming so much and for so long that Keith doesn’t know when it ends, feeling like he’s floating as Shiro bites a bruise into his neck and gasps against it.

Time seems to stand still as Shiro pulls out of Keith slowly, dragging the vibrator with him, and Keith slowly rises on his elbows to look down at his reddened, purpling cunt. It’s filthy, steadily leaking white come that dribbles out of his loose hole to join the mess on the floor. His cunt lips are equally flushed and plump with blood, and his folds are visibly swollen, stretched, and overextended. His body is completely covered in sweat and fluids, and Shiro’s looking at him like he’s beautiful as he gets to his feet.

Keith can’t find it within him to stand, body throbbing and aching, red all over from Shiro’s bruises and slaps. He shifts uncomfortably, the growing need to relieve himself turning him redder. But he can’t envision dragging himself to a bathroom right now. The only way Keith is going to move is if he’s carried out of this hall.

“Is there something you need to do?” Shiro asks, knowingly, and Keith bites his lip nodding. “Do it.”

Keith shakes his head mutely, and Shiro sighs. “Do you want me to help you?”

Keith nods, and Shiro lowers a hand to press down hard on his lower belly, right over his bladder as he thumbs and squeezes Keith’s clit. It works like a charm, and Keith is gasping, shaking as he lets go, his piss flooding over his inner thighs to join with the mess on the floor. He’s sopping and dirty, but this feels right. It feels good. Shiro reaches down to plug Keith back up with the motionless vibrator, and Keith keens at the feeling of being full again.

Shiro threads his arms around Keith and lifts him from the floor easily, taking a towel from an attendant to dry him off. Keith hangs limply in his hold, conscious enough to only press against his firm chest and wrap his hands around Shiro’s neck as he’s carried up the throne steps, Shiro’s hand at his back and behind his knees. Shiro smells like he’s doused with Keith’s scent and release, and the realisation makes the Galra in Keith eminently pleased – everyone in this hall will know that Keith has claimed Shiro too. Keith notes that Prince Sipho is nowhere to be found, and feels vehemently pleased.

“Baby, what do you need?” Shiro whispers to him, grazing his lips against Keith’s forehead, as he clutches him tightly. With every step Shiro takes, Keith realises he’s been moaning softly, still rubbing his body against Shiro. “You’re hurt, god-”

“I’m okay,” Keith manages to slur out, and Shiro’s hold tightens, his face determined as he reaches the top of the steps. “Want you. Talk later.”

“You have me,” Shiro says, and his voice is tight, worried. He gently lowers Keith onto his lap as he takes a seat on the throne and the banquet continues below them in the throng. “I hope I haven’t blown our cover.”

Shit. Keith struggles off Shiro’s lap, landing awkwardly on the floor when his legs give way beneath him. He bats away Shiro’s hands trying to pick him up and kneels with his legs spread out beneath him in front of Shiro. Shiro gives him a helpless, searching look as Keith reaches up to pull the head of Shiro’s cock into his mouth.

“Baby,” Shiro says, chuckling a little hysterically. His hands find purchase in Keith’s long hair, weaving his fingers through the strands as Keith slides his twitching cock further into his mouth. “You’ve just been through a lot, and I can’t get it up right now.”

“Let me just,” Keith mumbles around his cock, the motion making Shiro push his hips forward. He loses himself in the stretch of his lips around Shiro’s girth, the muskiness making his head heady. Shiro’s cock had just been in him, and now it’s back in his mouth. It tastes like Shiro’s come and his slick, and Keith wishes he could survive on this mixture for the rest of his life. “I just want you in my mouth, I don’t want to think for a while.”

Shiro pauses, then runs his hands soothingly over Keith’s scalp, making an understanding noise. Keith mindlessly licks and gently sucks on Shiro’s length feeling full in both holes till the banquet ends. He pushes Shiro’s cock into his cheek and watches indulgently as Shiro’s eyes darken at the imprint of his head made visible. He lets his mouth warm Shiro’s cock, lets the heavy weight rest on his tongue as Shiro delivers orders to treat Vrenik and his punishment for laying hands on Keith – to lick up the mess they’d made on the floor and a corporal demotion. Vrenik will never be able to work his way back to a warlord’s position again. He can’t bring himself to feel embarrassment at that, only a twinge of sympathy for Vrenik, who’d been drawn into his plans.

Either way, those thoughts leave his brain when Shiro’s hands tighten in his hair and he tells Keith that he’s going to come. Keith hears this through the fogginess coating his brain, and dutifully opens his mouth to receive come that coats the back of his throat. He swallows, licking the remnants off his lips and cleaning Shiro’s cock off with his tongue. He soon feels Shiro’s hands on his skin, saying the banquet has come to an end. Shiro calls off the attendants, picking Keith up, and cradling him all the way back to their quarters. Usually when Keith is too fucked out to think, attendants ferry him back to his room to retire while Shiro continues his duties. This is different, this is nice, and Keith buries himself into Shiro’s warmth.

When Shiro closes the doors to their room, he lays Keith down gently on the bedspread and passes him a cup of water to drink and strips while Keith does so – a strange imitation of their first time together – then lets out a sob that he stifles with a hand. Keith makes an inquiring noise, shuffling up the down pillows at his back and reaching for Shiro, but Shiro shies away. Keith’s still leaking trickles of Shiro’s come that stains the sheets with every movement.

“Keith, wait,” Shiro says, sounding a little brokenhearted as he turns to pick up a jar from the nightstand. Keith hums another confused sound, but Shiro doesn’t answer that either, pulling the vibrator out from his pussy and rubbing quick-healing salve into his bigger bruises and raw skin. He coats Keith’s folds with the cream too, clinically spreading the cream where he is engorged and puffy. Keith lets himself revel in it, the feeling of his mate taking care of him after providing him his desires – and oh god, Keith had pushed Shiro till he’d broken, had hurt him and let him watch as another had touched him.

But Shiro had also touched someone else, had let someone else prettier and sweeter breathe all over him, and Keith had been made to watch. Shiro hadn’t even cared when Keith’d thrown himself all over another. Suddenly, Keith’s heart aches in his chest, a tight, suffocating feeling that has him pulling away from Shiro’s touches and curling away, up into a ball on his side.

There’s a pause, then Keith feels Shiro rises from the bedspread. Keith makes a sorrowful sound at Shiro drawing away from him, and hears a hard thud on the floor next to the bed.

Keith turns over slowly, and alarm shoots through his system when he sees Shiro has dropped to his knees on the floor. It is a show of submission, and entirely inappropriate for Shiro, let alone a Conqueror, to be bowing to Keith that Keith has a mild moment of panic.

“Please allow me to beg for your forgiveness, Keith,” Shiro says grimly, and his voice is wrecked. It is painful to listen to when Shiro’s voice has always been full of warmth and love when he’s speaking to Keith.

“Shiro, what are you doing?” Keith asks, and his voice comes out rough and distorted from his worn throat. “Shiro, get up right now.”

“No, my love,” Shiro breathes, staring down at the floor resolutely from where his head is bowed, his jaw clenched tightly. His hands flex in his lap and he shakes his head firmly. “Keith, baby, I let my feelings get the better of me. I was angry, and I, I stepped on you, god-”

Oh. Shiro’s bowing to him as a mate does to another, not as a Conqueror to his Consort.

Alarm fills Keith’s chest, pressing down hard on his lungs. Shiro had been rough, yes, and maybe he pushed a little harder than they usually push in the bedroom. But Shiro had been angry over him, he had been jealous, and possessive, and Keith had licked up every little bit of it. The Galra in him purrs and sighs at the thought of his mate displaying dominance and being selfish over him, and Shiro had delivered today. If he had really wanted to hurt Keith, he could’ve showed no reaction, he could’ve not cared at all about Vrenik, let Vrenik use Keith any way he wanted. But Shiro had acted out of order and pushed Vrenik away. Then proceeded to despoil and ravish Keith every way he wanted. It had been painful and wrenching, and Keith had been so turned on he had come all over Shiro and cried. But if Shiro had been uncomfortable with the sex they’d had, then that would be a whole different matter.

Keith crawls as fast as he can to the side of the bed to cup Shiro’s cheek and raise his head. Shiro meets his eyes slowly, and his usually bright eyes are dimmed, muted with agony.

“Shiro,” Keith says hurriedly, searching Shiro’s hurt expression. “It was my fault. I reacted too fast and let my jealousy get the better of me. I made you angry on purpose, my love. You didn’t do anything I didn’t want, I should’ve talked to you first but you have to understand-” Keith lets himself smile a shaky smile that he doesn’t feel, his lips twitching upwards before they curl down at the sides. “I thought you were choosing Prince Sipho over me, I could see the way he looked at you, like how a Galra looks before they claim a mate and I thought-”

“You thought I’d let him.” Shiro places a hand over the one Keith has on his cheek, holding it tightly, grasping like he never wants to let go. He looks anguished, his mouth twisting around the words like it hurts him to speak them. Keith understands; the words feel like flames in the quiet space between them. “You thought I was being unfaithful, and I didn’t think at all what I was doing to you, that you were reacting and hurt, and you thought I was leaving you, Keith, I’m so sorry. I would never leave you baby, I love you, I love you so much, my mate, my precious one.”

Shiro rises, sliding one knee on the sheets and then the other, leaning forward to press kisses on Keith’s forehead, on his eyelids, on his cheeks, and on his lips. The words spiral around in Keith’s head, and they sound almost too good to be true, but they are, and so is Shiro, Shiro is true to him.

“Were you- was it bad for you,” Keith says more than asks against Shiro’s mouth, feeling Shiro slip a hand at the base of his neck and knead gently. “The fucking. Was it hard.”

“It was at first,” Shiro admits, but his touch is soft, and warm. His eyes have regained a look of tenderness as he gazes down at Keith, his strong arms bracketing Keith and making him feel safe. “I didn’t know what you were doing, I didn’t understand why he was touching you, god, I almost killed him. I should have known how not returning to our room would make you feel, and the way I greeted you – I’m so sorry for putting those doubts in your head, sweetheart. And you-” His voice breaks as he leans into Keith’s neck, tucking his head there. “You were apologising when you fucked yourself on my leg and I was angry, I didn’t respond, I should have, darling- I called you all those names too-” Shiro is pressing kisses to Keith’s neck now, apologetic and fluttering.

“Shush, you,” Keith says fondly, stroking the fine hairs at the nape of Shiro’s neck mindlessly. “You know I like being your whore. It felt good being sure I was something to you, getting a rise out of you when someone else wanted me. The Galra in me loves it, Shiro. You being angry and treating me like your own fuck toy. As long as you love me too, of course-” Shiro makes a protesting sound at that, and Keith laughs a little, feeling tears spring to his eyes. He hasn’t lost Shiro, he hasn’t lost his everything, and Shiro loves him, wants to tear him apart and fuck him so hard he cries and Keith adores it.

“Mm,” Shiro rumbles, and then gives Keith a cheeky look from under his eyelashes. “So, your cunt belongs to me? You won’t let anyone touch it again?”

“I will not,” Keith sighs. “I wasn’t in a good place, and I should have trusted you. It is difficult for me.”

 “I know, baby,” Shiro soothes, stroking his hands down Keith’s side like he’s touching something dear. “We’ll both work on it, okay?”

“Okay,” Keith hums, staring up at the ceiling. Then he remembers, narrowing his eyes playfully and wagging a finger at Shiro. “Wait, you haven’t explained to me why you were acting like such a dick, god, Shiro. I thought you’d taken a flight and found a prince to marry instead of marrying little old me-”

Shiro freezes, and so does Keith. Time seems to stop as Shiro pauses, lips parted, and then he’s devouring Keith’s mouth, licking into it like a starving man. Keith responds wholeheartedly, feeling dazed, sliding his tongue along Shiro’s as Shiro pants against his mouth and ruts slowly against his leg. He breaks off, looking a little guilty but he continues to rub against Keith’s thigh slowly. The hard line of Shiro’s dick against his leg makes Keith feel unbearably happy with how he’s being used, Shiro just taking his pleasure from Keith and having no qualms about it.

“Say you meant it,” Shiro whispers into Keith’s ear, his cock a hot brand and trailing come against Keith’s hip. “Say it again.”

“I did mean it,” Keith whispers back, and the moment is cheesy and embarrassing and perfect. “Marry me, Shiro. Don’t just be my Conqueror. Own my heart too.”

“Oh, fuck, yes,” Shiro moans, and comes onto Keith’s side, white fluid painting Keith’s already marked and caked body. He looks beautiful, his head thrown back, his arm reaching down to gently palm and flick Keith’s clit. “I’ll be yours and you’ll be mine, baby. Forever. We’ll have twenty children.”

“Twenty,” Keith repeats, giving Shiro an incredulous look. He automatically spreads his legs to give Shiro greater access.

“Thirty, Forty, as many as you want, baby,” Shiro leans back up to kiss Keith languidly.  

“You better be ready to take care of me when all I do will be to roll over for you to come in me,” Keith mumbles against his lips, swatting at Shiro’s arm. His toes clench as slow waves of pleasure rolls over him at Shiro’s ministrations. His body gives a weak spurt of slick, then slick only dribbles out of Keith’s exhausted body. “I’m going to be pregnant for the foreseeable future. When I can’t see my toes and I can’t clean myself properly, you’d better do it if you make declarations like that, you ridiculous, horny man.”  

“I will, I’ll be your willing and happy servant, sweetheart,” Shiro gives him a last peck, then inserts his fingers into Keith gently, slowly stretching out his hole. Keith groans at this further intrusion, and eagerly hooks his leg over Shiro’s hip to feel fuller. “Prince Sipho – Kolivan and I thought it would be better to see if he could be trusted, so I was hesitant to touch you in front of him. I swear I didn’t mean anything by it, baby, it really killed me to not touch you first thing, but I couldn’t give anything away that really showed how much you meant to me. His colony on Xriso is strong and loyal to him, and I couldn’t risk a betrayal or coup, especially not now, when the biggest, most obvious ransom would be you. I couldn’t inform you before either; Kolivan was worried our ship was bugged. But he’s been cleared, I think he’s just a little ambitious. I’m so sorry for making you worry, sweetheart.”

Shiro is earnest and sweet, and apologetic, and Keith can only nod, relief spreading over his features and a tenseness he didn’t know he was carrying in his shoulders easing.

“I trust you,” Keith says, and he means it fully. “I should’ve asked you first, but I don’t know, I was feeling so scared and I just was worried our mating bond didn’t mean as much to you as it did to me. But I shouldn’t have doubted you like that. I love you, Shiro.”

“Keith, you’re everything to me, I don’t think I will ever stop loving you.” Shiro’s eyes are genuine as he takes Keith’s hand and kisses it, mouthing at his knuckles. “You’re everything I admire and want to be, and everything I want to be with. I don’t want anyone else. I will never want anyone else. And I know I’m not Galra, and I can’t provide for you in that way, but I’ll try harder.” Shiro holds him tighter, his fingers slipping out of Keith to embrace him. They’re messy and sweaty and it’s perfect. “I’ve known it from day one. You’re it for me.”

Keith feels tears slip from his tired eyes at Shiro’s words, and can only burrow and laugh into the dip between Shiro’s pectorals. “Growing up, I felt like such an outsider. I never thought there would be someone like you for me.” He pushes back the urge to hide his exposed parts, to pull them back what he’s offered to Shiro and hide it away. 

“Well, there is,” Shiro confirms, stroking Keith’s head, and the fluttering, nauseating feeling immediately subsides at his voice. Keith leans into the slide of his rough palm. “I’m not going anywhere. We have to plan our wedding soon, right? There’s going to be so many changes around here. But you’ll be with me-” Shiro kisses the top of his head, muscular arms holding Keith so he fits snug against Shiro. “That’s all I need, sweetheart.”

It’s everything Keith has ever wanted. His chest is tight with everything sweet and glorious. “Between you and me,” Keith hooks his leg around Shiro’s waist more firmly and hoists himself up to sit on Shiro’s dick, which gives a valiant twitch. Shiro looks up at Keith shamelessly, palming at his chest and licking the milk that trails down his hand. “I got the impression the person Prince Sipho wanted wasn’t me – it was you.” Shiro’s eyes widen, and he’s about to say something, but Keith holds a finger to his lips.

“But he’s not going to get you,” Keith says. “You’re the father of my kits, not his.” He accompanies this declaration with a bold roll of his hips, and Shiro throws his head back, groaning loudly against the headboard.

Keith can’t help but smile down at him. His Shiro, his mate, his future husband.

“Well,” Shiro says, and his eyes twinkle, his lips widening into a toothy, smitten grin. His hands settle firmly on Keith’s hips, his own hips lifting to meet Keith’s. “We better get started on that.”