Note: Sometimes you've just got to say fuck it and write with no shits given. Thank you to those of you who chatted with me about this idea. You know who you are, and you should know I'm nearly done writing a part 2 that goes darker.

Summary: Keith and Shiro have a very special bond. They give and receive comfort in ways that outsider will just never understand. It works for them, though, and really isn't that all that matters?

Warnings: Underage, Male Lactation, No Sex

14

There is quite the shiner decorating Keith's eye, already puffed up and ready to turn a nice shade of black. His classmates are going to give him hell because of it. They all saw the fist fight, the instructor that had to pull Keith off the other cadet before he started spitting teeth. The only reason Shiro didn't get another stern talking to in Iverson's office is that despite the one sided nature of the results, Keith wasn't the first one to throw a punch. Thus the shiner.

They've got a weekend until the next class. Maybe he and Keith can sneak off base for a trip to the mall. Pick up some concealer to hide the worst of it, but would Keith even wear it? Shiro has too. It's just about the only way he can stop the bags under his eyes from advertising his lack of sleep to his superiors. Keith though, has an image. Not an external one, but an internal one. It helps him cope to pretend he doesn't care what the other cadets are saying, and doing something to cover up what happened would go in direct contradiction to that.

Shiro sighs, and plops down on his bed. Starting the process of unbutton his uniform jacket. Figuring out how to convince Keith will have to wait until later, right now he has a very upset cadet, who needs comfort and won't admit so on his own.

"Come here Keith," Shiro makes sure to keep his tone as a request and not and order. Keith's eyes flit down to his slowly revealing undershirt, then back to Shiro's face, questioning. It's a sadly familiar expression on his face. Keith's lost so much, he's always waiting for something else to be snatched away. On edge, prepared in case this is some long form joke, meant to be published on the Internet for his humiliation. If it wouldn't be taken the wrong way, Shiro would laugh at the idea. Keith's not the one with everything to lose if this got out. Golden boy status doesn't protect you from scandals like this.

Keith inches towards him slowly, muscles tense, like a feral cat ready to run at the first wrong move. Shiro tries to keep the sadness away from his encouraging smile, freeing the last button then letting his hands fall limp at his sides. Visible and non-threatening. Keith needs to move at his own pace, forcing him quicker would never work, and honestly Shiro would never want to try.

Warily, Keith crawls into Shiro's lap. Hands hesitantly raising to touch Shiro's pecs through his cotton white undershirt, "It's okay, Keith," Shiro says softly, "Take what you need." Shiro doesn't move, but Keith does. Grabbing the edge of his shirt and pulling it up to reveal Shiro's bare skin. His nipples are noticeably redder and more swollen than they should be. Keith isn't surprised by the sight, and why would he be? He knows exactly how they got that way.

A small pink tongue peeks out to lick soft lips, then Keith's leaning forward and latching on. Shiro takes in a sharp breath, as Keith sucks out the first little squirt of milk. It stings something fierce. His nipples weren't optimally designed for a teenage boy's cravings for one of the deepest intimacies. They've been put through the ringer recently, and it will be a while yet before they toughen up enough to take the repeated attention without soreness. Still he wouldn't trade this feeling for the world.

Keith's not just suckling a sub-par amount of milk from him. Each hard drag, is pulling comfort from himself to Keith. Drawing nourishment from his body to satisfy not Keith's physical hunger, but to fill that little pit of scared loneliness in him with the bone deep knowledge that Shiro will give him everything, even the product of his own body, so that he'll know someone cares.

Keith's muscles are relaxing against him. His upper body slowly slumping more and more of his weight against Shiro's chest, "Can I hold you?" Shiro asks. Keith's eyes flutter open, narrowing for a second. Even as the hypnotic rhythm of drinking Shiro down takes hold, his guard is still up. That's okay. Someday, Keith will feel safe enough to trust Shiro completely, and it will mean all the more for the time spent earning it. Keith doesn't let go, but deliberately nods his head before closing his eyes.

Shiro lifts his hands from the bed and wraps his arms carefully around his sweet boy. Gingerly he lays them back. Keith nursing pleasantly on top of him, and lets himself drift to the sensation of being milked dry.