Keith awoke to the sound of his alarm clock. He groaned from underneath his duvet before one arm braved the cold and silenced the incessant beeping.

As he opened his eyes, he became aware of a dull throbbing in his right temple – no doubt the result of a late night and Matt's mystery cocktails, of which Keith had finished several. The pain was irritating, but nowhere near as bad as Shiro had made it out to be. He swelled with pride at the idea that he might be able to hold his liquor better than someone older and much larger.

He wondered how his boyfriend was doing right now. He was sure to be awake already – probably showered, dressed and mentally preparing himself for his mission.

Keith slid from his bed, pulling off his clothes and chucking them to the floor. He was thankful that his roommate had dropped out earlier in the year, leaving him with a dorm all to himself – a privilege that usually only post-grads and senior officers had.

He opened a nearby drawer and retrieved a clean cadet uniform; then dressed himself quickly, ignoring the fact he was putting clean clothes on a less-than-clean body. He would've preferred to shower first, but with communal showers for the cadets, this was better than risking someone seeing him naked.

He would wash later, in the afternoon, just as he always did. That was the best time to ensure he had total privacy.

For now, he sprayed on some deodorant and fixed his hair up a little before heading down to the post-grad barracks to wish Shiro luck.

….

As predicted, Shiro was clean-shaven and dressed smartly in his freshly-ironed uniform. He was a stark contrast to Keith's unkempt hair and messy uniform. In his haste, the cadet had skipped over a button, making his entire outfit look lopsided, and the twisted black belt slung across his waist did nothing to help.

Shiro smiled, endeared by how careless a sleepy, early-morning Keith could be. He'd be sure to tell the boy before he headed off to class, but for now he decided to let him be.

"How're you feeling after last night?" he asked gently.

"I'm fine. Just a little headache," Keith confessed.

"Where does it hurt?"

"What? Why does it matter?" the cadet asked, confused.

"Just tell me."

He hesitated a moment before pressing his index finger to his right temple. "Here, I guess…"

Shiro leaned down and kissed the spot. He could've sworn he heard Keith mumble the word "idiot" under his breath but didn't react beyond pulling him into a warm hug. His finger and thumb found Keith's chin, directing it upwards so he could kiss his boyfriend's lips.

"I wish I could be there to actually see you off," Keith admitted.

"I know, but your class is more important. I'll see you tonight when I get back. Now, go before you end up being late."

Keith disentangled himself from his boyfriend's strong arms, somewhat hesitantly.

"Good luck today, Shiro." The man smiled in response.

"Thanks. Oh, and Keith? Straighten that uniform up if you don't wanna be stuck in detention when I get back."

….

The morning's class was exactly what he needed – something exciting he could lose himself in. It began with a presentation on various types of projectiles, both natural and synthetic, and moved on into methods for avoiding them. After a short instructional video, the students on the pilot program were ushered down the corridor towards the massive room that housed the simulator.

The room looked a bit too full in Keith's opinion. There weren't that many cadets on the fighter pilot program.

Glancing around, he picked out a few nameless faces that he recognised as belonging to cargo pilots. He wasn't really sure why they were even there, but he didn't argue. He wasn't the one running the course.

Commander Iverson eyed the cadets sternly; his hands clasped behind his back making his chest puff out, so he looked even more formidable.

"Alright, cadets!" he called; deep voice easily carrying across the room. "The simulator has been set up with an asteroid field. You'll each get your chance at it. The goal is to make it to the far end of the field without any irreparable damage to the ship."

The students began muttering amongst themselves.

"Oh, and one more thing. You'll be taking this test on advanced mode."

The muttering grew louder. Several students spoke out about how unfair it was to start us off at such a difficult level, but Iverson ignored them.

"I want to see how you all respond under pressure. So far, only one student has ever passed this to my satisfaction. It has been years, and still no one has beaten Shirogane's record."

Keith's attention peaked at the mention of his boyfriend's name. Everyone here knew Shiro – not on the personal level that Keith did, but they'd all heard tale of his legendary ability. His talent had surpassed any the Garrison had ever seen before, and that made him a little bit of a celebrity around campus.

Keith's ears caught the conversation of a group of cargo pilots standing nearby. A brown-haired boy in the centre of the huddle was confidently telling the others how he was going to beat the record and then go to Shiro and tell him, right to his face.

Keith snorted derisively. A cargo pilot had no chance of outperforming Shiro. No one here did.

The first student, a girl with black hair and glasses, was the first to enter the simulator.

Keith watched the screen carefully as it showed the view from the ships windscreen. His eyes darted back and forth, head moving subconsciously with them as he mentally mapped out the route he would take through the asteroid field. His fingers twitched involuntarily, itching to be holding onto the controls.

His teeth gritted each time his mental manoeuvres diverged from the pilot's, breaking the illusion that he was the one flying.

He did the same thing as he watched each pilot's performance. Some were only short-lived as they crashed fatally early on, but it was long enough for Keith to tell that each simulation was different. There was no advantage in memorising the asteroid positions, as he was sure some of the other students were doing.

He'd had no such intentions himself. It'd help him today in the test, sure, but it wouldn't make him a better pilot in the long run.

The brown-haired boy took his turn and Keith took notice. His performance was… amusing. Keith had quickly given up on using this simulation to practise for his own. The boy had crashed into damn-near every asteroid. The ship was being buffeted in every direction, accompanied by a long, near-constant, high-pitched scream.

When Keith finally got his chance, he stepped into the simulator and took a deep breath before buckling himself into the big, padded chair. His hands gripped the yoke firmly as the program rebooted.

He let the thoughts of being watched fall from his mind. His classmates didn't matter.

He swerved easily to avoid a large asteroid as he entered the belt. His clear mind automatically generated a path through the rocks and all he had to do was follow it.

He imagined Shiro's hand on his shoulder, comforting him but not interfering. Even though it wasn't real, the presence calmed him.

The asteroids became denser the further he travelled. They were becoming more and more difficult to avoid. He was on the brink of a collision many times, pulling up sharply just a whisper away from the rocky surface.

Another asteroid appeared as if from nowhere. Keith pulled hard on the yoke. It was too late though. The tip of the wing clipped the surface and a warning light flashed above his head. The stress was getting to him. If he stayed in this mindset, he was sure to make more mistakes.

He breathed deeply again, thinking of Shiro's mantra. Patience yields focus.

The bad thoughts faded from his mind and he concentrated back on his test. The asteroids were becoming sparser again. He must be nearing the edge of the field. None of the other pilots had made it this far.

He veered left, dodging another massive asteroid, and glimpsed the blank space just ahead. He fought the urge to speed up. If he was too focused on the finish line, he might miss something else. He could still crash and ruin it all.

A moment later, the view in front of him vanished and was replaced by the words "SIMULATION PASSED. NEW RECORD."

He couldn't believe his eyes. Somehow, he'd beaten Shiro. It didn't seem possible.

Everyone stared at him as he stepped out of the simulator. Even Commander Iverson seemed to be in disbelief, his jaw hanging slack. He quickly recomposed himself, muttering a quick "Good work, cadet."

Keith raised his hand to his temple in a salute. "Thank you, Sir."

He then shuffled away, smiling to himself. His boyfriend was going to be so proud when he heard the news. He wouldn't say anything today though. This was Shiro's big day.

Shiro returned safely and in time for the evening meal. Between bites, he had recounted the details of his earlier mission to Keith and Matt across the table in the cafeteria.

Occasionally, he was interrupted by another curious student. He offered each of them a quick reprise of the events before turning back to his friends and giving them the full run-down.

Keith was happy to see that Shiro was talking excitedly about the mission that he'd been less-than-enthusiastic about the day before.

It wasn't the glory-grabbing assignment he knew his boyfriend was hungry for, but he was now seeing it for what it was – an achievement to be proud of, and an important stepping stone to greater things.

Once they finished up, Keith and Shiro bid goodbye to Matt and made their way across campus, in the opposite direction to the dormitories.

As they left the main student area, their steps became careful; quieter. Approaching a corner, they paused; staying hidden and peering down the adjacent hallway.

"The coast is clear," Shiro whispered.

They ran swiftly and silently to the next corner where they paused again.

"Shhh, I hear footsteps." Keith's voice was low, but his tone was urgent.

Shiro went still and quiet, listening carefully.

"It's ok. They're heading away from us."

The pair made it off the property undetected, as they had done many a time before. Taking each other by the hand, they clambered down the rocky slope stretching below them.

Occasionally, one of them would lose footing; their boots skidding across the sandy surface, or a mound of loosely-packed earth would give way under their weight. At these times, they would cling tighter to the other, anchoring themselves. A tumble down this hill would be far from fatal, but certainly unpleasant. And it wasn't worth the hassle of coming up with an excuse for their injuries at the infirmary.

They stopped as they reached a large mass of dry, brown weeds that was partially obscured by the surrounding rocks. They each grabbed fistfuls of the plant matter and started pulling it away.

The first glint of shiny, red metal showed through one of the gaps, and they kept going, soon uncovering the hidden vehicle – Keith's hoverbike, that he was proud to say he'd built himself.

Keith gripped the handlebars, throwing a leg over the bike and settling himself on the padded seat. Shiro climbed on behind him, wrapping his arms around Keith's waist in lieu of anything else to hold on to. Besides, it was a lot more intimate this way.

Shiro remembered the first time Keith had taken him out on the bike. He'd had butterflies in his tummy from being so close to the younger man. He could feel the warmth of his back, pressing flush against his chest; and smell the soft, sweet scent of his hair.

His stomach had flipped as Keith drove over the edge of a rocky precipice, and he'd clung tighter to smaller man, burying his face against one of his shoulders. He knew the stomach flip was from more than just the sudden dip. Thinking back, that was probably the moment he'd first fallen in love with Keith.

The engines whirred to life on either side of them, and the whole vehicle lifted, floating a few feet above the ground. Shiro braced himself as Keith accelerated forwards, climbing to top speed in a matter of seconds.

The sun was just beginning to set; casting long shadows of the unusual rock formations across the desert sand. The wind whipped through their hair, shaping Keith's long strands into sleek, black tendrils flowing behind him. The ends tickled Shiro's nose and cheek, but he made no effort to stop them.

Dusk had already settled by the time they abandoned their thrilling laps of the gorge. They now sat together on the veranda of the old wooden shack; the hoverbike parked a short distance away.

Keith's head rested against his boyfriend's muscular shoulder and an arm held tightly round his waist.

"Hey, Keith. Look," Shiro said softly, pointing to a patch of sky near the horizon.

Keith's eyes followed the line of Shiro's arm and spotted a bright light, like a star, but it was moving.

"That's the International Space Station."

Keith smiled wistfully. "It's hard to believe that you were up there just a matter of hours ago." Shiro's elbow nudged him playfully.

"Don't tell me you're jealous?"

"A little," Keith admitted.

"You'll get there too. Just a few more years of training and you'll be ready. Maybe we'll even get to go on a mission together some day."

Keith pulled his jacket tighter around himself. "Yeah… I'd like that."

They stayed like that a while; just enjoying the cool air, the quiet, and each other's company; before retreating inside and drifting into a similar position on the old, tattered couch.

A hand cupped Keith's cheek and turned his face towards Shiro's. Soft lips pressed against his and he melted into the kiss.

Suddenly the hand was on his knee, slowly and somewhat hesitantly sliding higher, towards his crotch. Keith panicked as it reached his upper thigh; abruptly taking control of the situation and grabbing Shiro's wrist.

Before the man had a chance to apologise for being so forward, Keith had wrestled him down onto the couch, pinning him on his back. His hands pulled forcefully at Shiro's jeans, making short work of the buttons.

Shiro could only stare as his dick sprang free from its confinement and was immediately engulfed by a warm, eager mouth.

It was all Keith could think of to get the attention off him. He needed to keep the man distracted long enough to think of an out. He'd been lucky last time with Matt's interruption, but there was no one to disturb them out here, in the middle of nowhere, miles from the nearest civilisation.

He realised now – it had been a poor decision to take their relationship into this new territory. Now that he had, there was no going back.

He'd been the one who was scared to get intimate; constantly living in fear of when Shiro would make the move. And yet it had been Keith himself who'd brought this about; shot himself in the foot with his own gun.

He hadn't been thinking clearly. That message from Matt he'd glimpsed on Shiro's phone had panicked him. It had confirmed his previously-unfounded fears that his boyfriend was ready for more than just kissing.

He was desperate not to lose Shiro. He loved him, unlike he'd ever loved anyone or anything before. But that's precisely why he had to end this. Shiro deserved better. He should be with someone he could actually have a future with.

Just a little longer, Keith told himself.

Shiro's moans grew louder; his hands curling into Keith's hair. His hips started to buck upwards, but the cadet pinned them down. He redoubled his efforts, bobbing his head faster.

His boyfriend whimpered, repeating Keith's name like a chant as he inched closer to release. The cadet hummed around the thick cock in his mouth; the vibrations pushing Shiro over the edge.

Keith felt it throb against his tongue as warm, salty liquid flooded his mouth. He savoured the taste for a moment – the proof that he'd satisfied his boyfriend – before swallowing it all with one gulp.

He licked his lips, looking up into Shiro's face. His eyes were closed and his mouth slightly open; his chest rising and falling steadily. He was … sleeping.

Keith let out an amused huff. The day's mission had obviously taken more out of him than he was letting on.

The boy refastened the buttons on Shiro's pants and grabbed the blanket that lay draped over the back of the couch. He pulled himself to his feet awkwardly, trying his best not to jostle the older man awake, and covered him with the warm blanket.

He then turned his focus to his own issue. His cock was straining against the fabric of his tight jeans, demanding attention. Having Shiro moaning under his touch left him unbelievably hard. There was nothing else for it – he was going to have to jerk off or he wouldn't get any sleep.

He studied his boyfriend's face once more, reassuring himself he was truly asleep, and settled himself on the floor; leaning his back against the edge of the sofa. He pulled a spare sheet over his lap as an extra safety measure, on the off-chance Shiro might wake up before he was done.

Quickly and quietly, he unzipped his jeans and freed his cock from his boxers. He wrapped his right hand around it and felt a vein on the underside pulsing against his palm. He was thankful for the layer of white linen blocking his view of what lay in his lap. Like this, he could almost forget he wasn't normal. Almost.

He slowly moved his hand up and down his length, biting down on his lip to stifle his whimpers. He fantasised about Shiro sitting before him, touching him with what he imagined to be skilled hands.

He pressed his head harder against the side of the couch as he quickened his pace. His fingers were wet from the pre-cum leaking down his shaft. He rubbed his thumb over the head, imagining it was Shiro's tongue. A moan almost escaped him.

He grabbed the hem of his t-shirt with his left hand and stuffed it into his mouth, biting down on the soft fabric. It muffled his noises somewhat, but louder moans were threatening to slip out.

He clamped the hand tightly over the cloth in his mouth as he reached climax; warm, thick liquid shooting over his bare stomach in long messy, spurts.

The second his orgasm ended, the shame hit him, as it always did. He was gross; disgusting. His body was wrong. Even an imaginary Shiro shouldn't be subjected to that.

He hastily grabbed a handful of tissues from the box on top of what-passed-for a coffee table – a large square of un-sanded wood, supported by a haphazard arrangement of different-sized cinderblocks.

The mess had already started sliding down his belly. A folded piece of tissue caught the biggest splodge of cum just as it neared his waistband. It took all the tissues he had to clean himself up.

He threw the sodden mass of tissue into the bin on the far side of the room and wiped his hands on the back of his jeans. He would've preferred to wash them, but running water wasn't a luxury he had out here.

He looked over at Shiro again. He was still sound asleep. Keith stepped closer, lifting the blanket a little and slipping underneath. He eased himself into the narrow space between his boyfriend's large form and the edge of the couch.

His body would probably protest this awkward position with aches and pains in the morning, but for now he didn't care. He snuggled in closer, resting his head on Shiro's chest; breathing in his scent and listening to his heart beat.

Just a little longer.