Title: Maybe I'm A Lion
Pairing: Shiro/Keith
Rating: M for sexy times and language
Words: 1,646
Summary: With Shiro's disappearance, Keith wonders if he's worthy of leading Team Voltron.
A/N: I think this might be my first venture into a M/M fic, and for a new fandom. Crazy, right? I had this idea in my head and wanted to get it out. Hope you like it. Enjoy! (Bonus points if you know where the title comes from without looking it up)
"…I want you to lead Voltron…"
Shiro's last words. They echo in Keith's head, nonstop, ringing like a siren he can't block out. Sleep hasn't come easy. Keeps opening his eyes, expecting to see Voltron's leader sitting on the edge of the bed, safe and sound like nothing happened. Keith looks up anyway, hoping everything that happened was a dream.
…Shiro isn't there. Isn't resting on his elbows with that innocent smirk painting his face. Isn't shirtless across the bed fiddling with his Galran arm. Just. Isn't. There.
Keith plops back on his pillow, heart constricting in his chest. Fuck, it hurts. "Dammit, Shiro, where are you?" he whispers.
It's been two days. Two days since the assault on the Galra Empire. All's been quiet since, save for the somber morale of Team Voltron at Shiro's loss. Allura and Coran have been storming the castle, frantic to decide on a new leader; Lance keeps his mouth shut for once; Pidge loses themself in tech and video games; Hunk? Well, he's eating his feelings. The team's broken, and here Keith is lying down after hours, too afraid to throw his hat in the ring.
"…I want you to lead Voltron…"
Those words again. Lead? Lead, how? Keith has no guidance, no experience, no… Shiro. Not anymore. How would he be worthy enough to lead? Would the team even listen to him? The idea seems so foreign, yet the opportunity stands right in his face.
"Shiro…"
Shiro was everything a leader should have been — kind, strong, fearless, calm, collected. What part of that did Keith even embody? Red chose him for a reason. He's hotheaded and aggressive, qualities a leader just shouldn't have. But Shiro chose him? Tch.
Still… there must have been a reason. If not for Keith's personality, maybe it was… more.
"You lead."
A shiver rolls down Keith's spine at the sudden memory. Guidance. He had it once. With Shiro. A gentle hand on the back of his. Moving it, showing it, guiding it lower, and lower, and…
"Ffffuck, Shiro," Keith mouths, brushing his palm against his dick. Shiro touched him there, caressed him there, orchestrated Keith's own hand to move between them both. But Shiro still wanted him to lead. Wanted him to take charge.
Fifth encounter for them. Keith counts them in his head as he strokes his shaft in his shorts. Definitely fifth.
Keith had never led before. Always Shiro. Gentle Shiro was in public, but behind closed doors, he was an animal. Keith saw that firsthand, cherished every second of it. But Keith made the first advance with Shiro's help, shaky hands and all.
Shiro kept that gentle smirk on his face as Keith undressed him, slowly, might he add. Shirt thrown down, pants kicked away. It took Shiro all his willpower not to laugh, Keith noticed. Embarrassing.
"…Stay calm. Trust your instincts…"
So he did. They told him how, and he moved. Where to glide his hands, where to mark his teeth and tongue. Shiro succumbed to the inexperienced assault with pleasure, letting go and allowing Keith free reign to assert his dominance. So he did.
Keith hisses, memories flooding back all at once. He squeezes his dick. His free hand joins in to stroke the head. It's great, but only better with a hand that isn't his.
He remembers how tight Shiro's ass was when he pushed in, watching the leader's face scrunch as his legs dangled off the edge of Keith's bed. How his broad chest was coated in a layer of sweat, muscles tightening and relaxing at Keith's amateur attempts. How he buried himself to the hilt against Shiro. Took Shiro's cock in his hand and massaged it as he timed his thrusts.
Smack! Smack! Smack!
Keith remembers the sound his balls made slapping at Shiro's ass. Shiro only smiled, told Keith he was doing well, and then collapsed back, groans and growls breaking from his throat. That only egged Keith on. He was getting comfortable, and he knew Shiro knew it. Keith felt the pull of a smirk at his lips, and as a complement, threw a leg over his shoulder.
"…Mmmffffuck, I knew you could do it…"
That spurred Keith on even more. He stopped, much to Shiro's dismay, and growled. "Turn over."
Seeing Shiro, the leader of Voltron and pilot of the Black Lion, follow orders and arch his back like a common whore stirred something inside of Keith. He didn't know what it was at the time, nor did he care. All was forgotten when he pulled Shiro's hips into him and spilled his seed into Shiro's ass five minutes later. And on top of that, Shiro lay there and cleaned his dick off like a servant as Keith sat on his chest. Crazy.
Keith pulls himself out of his shorts, strokes hard and slow now. He's stiff, painfully so, and if he teases his dick with his fingers just right, it almost feels like Shiro's tongue circling the head. Almost…
What Keith lacked was experience. In and out of the bedroom. Shiro took Keith under his wing, showed him the ropes of how to lead and how to rally others to follow. It came naturally to him with his years of piloting and exploration experience. So it wasn't surprising that a simple "suck me off" had Keith dropping to his knees in seconds to wrap his lips around Shiro's dick.
Eleventh encounter. Keith's sure of this one. The reluctance to follow was stamped out eventually, and Shiro praised him for it between kisses and licks to the side of Shiro's shaft.
"Uhhnnn… the best leaders, Keith? Th-they know when to follow, too… You're learning…" That filled Keith with pride.
He made sure to give Shiro what he wanted, using every inch of his mouth. He pushed until his throat and jaw burned and he choked. He sucked until Shiro snatched him by the hair and growled at him to stop. He fondled, kissed, and worshipped Shiro's balls like the jewels they were. Anything for his Leader. Anything.
Shiro stopped him for good, wanted to show him something better. He pulled Keith into his lap. Keith got the idea and slowly impaled himself on Shiro's dick with a groan. He sat there, staring his Leader in the face while that dick slid into his ass. He felt every vein, the pulsating throb, the slickness of saliva and precum. Everything.
"Ride me." Simple command. Keith obeyed without question.
Keith strokes the head faster, grazing his balls with the other hand like Shiro taught him. He can almost feel the way his ass stretched to fit Shiro inside. He lifts his hips, mimicking how he dropped his ass into Shiro's lap as his Leader stared at him with lust darkening his eyes to complement the budding five o'clock shadow. Keith's lips part, and a groan sneaks through.
"S-shiro…"
Keith rode him, all right, while Shiro leaned back and stared at the motions. His eyes roved up and down Keith's body. Landed on the semi-hard member smacking at his abs. He chuckled, pulling Keith in.
"…Good boy…"
Keith growled under his breath then, dropping his ass harder. He managed to find that perfect spot, and Shiro guided his thrusts with a cold hand on his ass.
Keith's body felt odd at the time, he recalls, like a burning, gentle ache. A dull hum that coursed through his muscles and relaxed him. He almost feels it now, coupled with the cool titanium of Galra tech gliding down gooseflesh-ridden skin. That arm. It had to have been. Commanding his lineage, drawing out those purrs and growls. He wishes he could feel the pull again.
But he's close now. Too close. Ass flexed, hips lifted off the bed. The slickness of his strokes reach his ears and he's reminded of how Shiro touched him. Rolling his palm over the top, down the shaft, tickling the balls. Rinse and repeat. And repeat. And repeat. Keith mimics the motions with that memory fresh in his mind. All the guidance Shiro gave him, all the experience Keith took from him. He channels it through every inch of himself.
Keith shuts his eyes, imagining Shiro stroking his dick in that exact way. His balls tighten against him, toes curl. "Ah…" His voice catches in his throat. "F-fuck, fffuck, Shiro…"
Flashes of purple and black streak across Keith's eyes as he jacks himself five final times. Each stroke feels like a memory of Shiro — his confidence, his leadership, his command, his experience, his being. Everything. Keith takes it all, heart hammering in his chest as he explodes. He spills cum on his abs, spurt after spurt staining his flushed and sweaty skin. It's the same as that day. He came right on Shiro's chest and collapsed over him, out of breath with brows furrowing.
Shiro stared at him. Just stared. Whether in awe or contentment or whatever else, Keith didn't know then. Thinking back on it, it was something else. The way Shiro's eyes crinkled at the corners. His hand squeezing Keith's sore ass. Unmistakeable.
Trust. That's what Shiro saw in Keith, no doubt. Shiro had been grooming him to lead, showing him the ropes in all ways possible. Black trusted him enough to let him pilot once and Keith's sure that trust extended from Shiro.
Keith gives his dick one final squeeze, brings his hand to his mouth. He licks his own essence from his fingers. The tang reminds him of his Leader and the silent promise Keith gave him through those encounters.
Keith can do it, he knows now. Shiro would be- will be proud. Keith owes him that much, and he'll do whatever it takes to make sure Shiro comes back alive, wherever he is.
Tomorrow, he'll live up to Shiro's wishes.
Tomorrow, he will lead Voltron.