Lion's Hide
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Shiro's never felt reverence. Never kneeled with belief as his knee hits the ground, never looked up hoping to see satisfaction. He's bloody, body covered in grime from the fight, weary and stares at Keith's knee with envy, hoping to be allowed to lie on them, rest his head there. If he could, if only he could be allowed, if only the hide could please his prince.
Keith stares at him with a blank expression, as if gauging his worth in this very moment, legs crossed lazily, looking like he belongs in the lavish surroundings around him. The fluffy couch behind him dips extravagantly under his body, all clad in diaphanous silks, leaving little to imagine of the curves and muscles under, the soft swell of a tiny breast and the dusty pink of a nipple.
And as for him, he's still dizzy, he's just come back and rushed there with what his prince asked for. A large lion's hide, the black one that had been terrorizing the countryside, devouring sheep and men alike. It was larger than a common lion, immense, mane thick and clotted with the blood of its prey, wild and ferocious. A vicious beast with terrifying claws, vicious maws. Shiro isn't sure he'll keep his arm where it's bitten him.
Eventually, Keith smiles, gestures for him to come closer. The hide's been cleaned and Shiro holds it up, as if to wrap him in it, as he's asked. That was why he wanted it – the hide of the brutal feline, to wear it, like a cloak. And Shiro, of course, could only obey. If his prince wanted something, it was in the natural order of things that his prince would get what he wanted. Keith sheds his clothes, revealing the pudginess of an Omega, wrapping himself in the fur before sitting back down.
He stares at him still and Shiro wonders if he's pleased. The smile seems to say so. The legs spreading, however, tell him right away that he is more than pleased. Shiro licks his lips, stares at the expanse of smooth alabaster skin, stares up to ask permission before running a hand on them. A little of slick escape the prince's folds already, smelling so sweet that Shiro feels dizzy from being so close.
"You've done so good, Shiro," Keith praises with a purr, eyes closing as he buries his nose in the mane, pulls it closer to his lithe frame. Shiro kisses his knee and Keith pulls him closer by the hair. "You deserve more than this," he declares, urging Shiro closer, wrapping a leg around him, pressing him closer.
Shiro can't deny or resist any longer, holding himself up with his good arm, fingers fisted in the slain beast's coarse fur. His breeches are pulled down, Keith guides him in.
"My Paladin," he mewls, looking more than pleased with the slow pace, the languid but exhausted thrusts. It's so warm inside – warm and slick, so much it froths at the base of his cock, in a mixture of pre-cum and the abundant lubricant, supposed to help coupling with male Omegas, tighter, more fragile than their female counterparts.
"My Paladin," he repeats again and Shiro whines, squeezing the prize he's brought tighter in his fingers. Keith does the same, in his hair to keep him close, lips against his, opened in lewd moans as his breath hitches up. Shiro imagines fucking Keith in the pool of blood the lion was in for a second, coming with a gasp, knotting him deeply. It takes only that for Keith to tighten even more around him.
It's silent before Keith turns to him again, pleased, sated. His hands move to his cheeks, bringing their lips together in a softer kiss.
"My Paladin," he murmurs, petting his lower abdomen where he can feel the inflated knot. "Mine."
And in that moment, Shiro can only think that he'd rather be no one else's. Not when Keith, wrapped in a fierce predator's hide, stares at him, purring like a kitten, petting his stomach absent-mindedly. After all, the most dangerous predators might not roar and have sharp claws, he thinks, until Keith presses his head to his chest, petting his hair slowly.
"Rest now."
And Shiro obeys. Closes his eyes, silences his thoughts and sleeps, a hand drifting to Keith's stomach.
His prince.