Authors Note:

Witchy-writes over on tumbler helped to beta this chapter.

The razor slides across his skin, removing the last of his fur. He'd had so little to start with, thin with only a few real clumps around his crotch and armpits. Nothing like his fellow soldier's full coats, but it had been his. The closest thing to standard beauty his small off colored body had ever possessed.

But the General's tastes ran in a different direction than the norm. He had liked the pale expanses of Keith's bare skin. Enjoyed how there was no fur between his tongue and Keith's flesh. Even praised the appearance of his cock and balls without the black curls surrounding them. Shiro had desired him hairless from the neck down, so his fur had to go.

Keith sets the razor aside, carefully stepping out of the tub. The steam has run down the bathroom mirror in rivulets, just leaving the barest hint of an altered image to reflect back at him. His normally pink skin has been dyed a dark deep blue. His lips, nails, anything and everything he'd submerged in the bath had turned some shade of the color. Only his hair remains mostly the same. Barely a tint to the black to show something had been applied. He looks ridiculous. Like a child who decided to roll around in his parents fur dye. Completely recognizable just dipped in another shade.

Keith snatches a towel from the rack and pats himself dry. The color doesn't rub off on the towel. He's going to need a special remover to get it back off later. Surely Shiro will provide some, when he's done for the night. He knows how upset Keith would be if he was forced to report to duty looking like this. The rank and file would have a field day coming up with stories on how he ended up in such a state. Some might even be true. Shiro's done a lot to him, but he's always respected Keith's desire to keep their bedroom life away from public eyes.

Keith tosses the wet towel aside. He's already cleaned inside, there is only one thing left he has to do.

The container of lube waits on the counter. It's embarrassingly large, with a big bright label on the side just in case someone might mistake it for anything else. It's almost empty. He's only had it for a month. Thank the Emperor, Shiro handles their personal time needs. He'd never recover from the quartermaster's judgment, if he had to re-up their supply himself. Everyone knows he's taking it up the ass. Shiro's so much higher ranked than him there is no shame in that, but there is a difference between knowing about the likelihood of their arrangement and being able to see exactly how quickly he goes through lube.

He gathers up a little bit to rub between his fingers, bends over the counter, bracing his forearm against its cool surface. This is a familiar task, rote movements needing little thought. Other nights, the nights that aren't this, aren't filled with the General's fun, Shiro would do this for him. Spread him out on the mattress and work him open slowly. Hot lips against his neck, whispered praise in his ears. Telling him how good he was, how loved, how nobody could ever replace him. Shiro would tease him, filling him slowly with his thick fingers. Playing with him until he was begging for more at the same time he was wishing it'd never end. Those were his favorite nights. The ones he could have never even dreamed of having before Shiro, and would do anything to make sure he never had to do without again.

But that is not tonight. Tonight there is nothing but his own thin fingers. Readying himself as quickly as possible. No dallying for pleasure. Just effiecent action so he's ready to present before the General grows impatient.

The first finger slips in without a stretch. He's too practiced at relaxing, or maybe just has been taken one too many times, for even the slightest discomfort from something so small.

He keeps his eyes on the patterned counter below him, as he wiggles the second finger in. There is something a little too lewd about staring at his own slightly parted lips in the mirror. Like he's putting on a show, instead of just the basics of readying himself. The image doesn't befit a deadly soldier.

Keith spreads his fingers. The small stretch is nice, if he pushed deeper it would begin to feel even better, but he keeps it shallow. Just barely past the ring of muscles trying to force them back out. Don't get distracted. Shiro decides where this night is going. Working himself up could make for a miserable wait.

The third finger slides in as easily as the first. Should he be worried about how little effort it takes? There are always stories about those who lent their ass out so much it became useless for anything else, but surely, if he'd done himself damage, the doctor would have said something by now. It doesn't mean anything, he shouldn't worry. A few small thrusts, just to enjoy the feeling of something substantial to clench against, and he spreads his fingers. Fighting against the suction, as his body wants to stay closed, to let nothing else in. Then, finally, the sudden lack of resistance as he truly opens up. Cool air tickling his insides. There, now he's ready.

Keith washes his hands thoroughly, still no bleed off from the dye, it really has soaked in, and heads for their room. The bathroom door slides aside, Shiro's waiting for him. The General has been preparing while Keith bathed. Small containers, toys, and strange overly frilled pieces of clothing are laid out on their bed. He could puzzle out their purpose, if Shiro wasn't so much more interesting of a subject.

He's dressed in his parade armor. The one he wears to meet the few people equal and above him in rank. The one who's crotch can be undone, and will only bite a little into Keith's ass as he's railed him from behind. Shiro likes how much lower Keith looks, stripped bare beside him while he's in full uniform. Keith hasn't told him, but maybe he likes it a bit too.

Keith steps into the bedroom proper, letting the door slide shut behind him. Shiro's eyes rake down him, examining his work. Keith spins in place. Showing that yes, he can follow simple instructions and get the dye everywhere like requested. Shiro's hand on his shoulder stops him mid-turn. Shoving his chest against the door.

Keith holds himself still, watches Shiro over his shoulder. Waits. The first cool metal touch of Shiro's prosthetic has his breath catching. He shivers, as it traces down his spine to dip between his cheeks. Circling the pucker of his hole with his thumb, building his anticipation, but refusing to take the last step and press inside. He shouldn't want this so much, he just finished sticking three of his own fingers up there. Shiro's shouldn't be so different, but they are. The cheshire grin on the man's face says he knows it too.

Shiro leans forwards. Lets the hard lines of his armor do the job of pinning him against the door, as his human hand slips low and around to feel his crotch. Shiro's cock is hidden from him. Protective layers leaving his interest a mystery even when pressed against his ass, but his own dick has no such cover. Perking up with interest, as Shiro's hand wraps around it.

"Getting hard for me, baby?" Shiro words hot against his ear. He doesn't wait for an answer, a soft tug against Keith's dick has him gasping, hips pushing further into Shiro's hand. A dark chuckle, enjoying how easy he is, "Do you want more?" Shiro whispers. A point of chill as the tip of Shiro's thumb barely breaches his hole, teasing.

Keith bites his lip, fingernails digging into his palm, before he can speak, "Yes," He pleads. It would be so easy. He's ready, Shiro wouldn't need to wait to push himself inside. Fuck Keith against the door, until the armor left dark purple bruises and Keith came screaming.

Shiro clutches him, face burying against his neck, as if Keith isn't the only one affected. A shuddery breath, then the ghost of teeth against his skin, "Well then, how could I say no when you asked so nicely. I'll give you exactly what you asked for," Shiro's voice is a promise. One that is too good to be true. The General's games are sometimes enjoyable, but rarely as simple as this, "Just have to deal with this first," Shiro's hand squeezes hard on Keith's dick, "Stay right here and don't move," Shiro kisses Keith's cheek, pulling away to leave him leaning against the door.

Soft padding footsteps walking to the bed. There were things there, laid out for tonights game. If he could just recall what they were, he could decipher what Shiro meant. A rustle, maybe even a clink, something is picked up. He just can't remember what it could be. More soft steps coming back. Shiro tugs on Keith's hip, turning him. There is something shiny and metal in his hand, but Shiro is sinking to his knees and suddenly that isn't important anymore. Grey eyes look up at him with a wicked glint as Shiro leans forward. Hot breath caressing his length. Blood rushes south, as Keith's brain short circuits. Shiro's mouth, his lips, his sultry tongue. They've touched him so many times before, and each was as close to a religious experience as he's ever come. Shiro is perfect, and each time he lowers himself to pleasure Keith in this way is a reminder that he loves him, chose him, from all the other options. How could he not be consumed by that.

Maybe that's why he missed the mischief in Shiro's smile. Eyes slipping closed as Shiro drags his thumb down the underside of Keith's cock. He takes a shaky breath and…There is a click. A ring of pressure behind his balls. Keith's eyes fly open. Another click, more pressure. Shiro is securing a shiny metal ring around his shaft. The head of his dick is being shoved into a rigid cap, attached to the rings by Shiro's clever fingers. Keith stares. Shiro kisses the tip of the cap. Not his dick. No slightly chapped lips against his head, no warm tounge and warmer mouth. Just the too cold metal, snuggly fitted over his sensitive flesh. Shiro stands.

"What-what did you do?" Keith stammers, hand reach down to touch the cage. It's too tight, leaves no room to grow without bordering on painful.

Shiro pulls his hand away, lifts his chin so he's looking into those grey eyes, "You don't have a dick tonight," Shiro says, crowding Keith back against the wall. Shiro's eyes are dilating, betraying how much he's enjoying Keith's dawning realization, "You're going to wear your chastity cage and not touch it, while I use you to my heart's desire," Chastity, oh Emperor, he's going to get everything he wanted just like Shiro said, while being denied his orgasm, "Understand?" Shiro asks.

Keith deflates, "Yes," He says, much less enthusiastically than earlier.

"Good boy," Shiro smiles, before dipping down for a kiss.

Maybe it's because he knows Keith can't fully enjoy it, but Shiro makes the kiss good. A hand against the small of his back, pulling him flush, bare flesh against amour. Another tugging against his hair, demanding he open up. Teeth biting at his his lower lip, a tongue invading his mouth. Wet sounds as Shiro's mouth claims his own, trapping him against the door. Dizzy because to pull away to breathe means to stop. Then it's over. Keith's all but dropped, left panting and clinging to the wall for balance. The metal around his dick grown ever tighter.

Shiro's taks his wrist and pulls across the room to stand in front of their bed. There's clothing laid out there, undergarments and all. Most in a style he doesn't recognize, save one. A dress that's a favorite of the escort class on a local planet.

Shiro wraps himself around Keith's back, hand's resting possessively on Keith's hips, "You're always so good for me. Doing whatever I ask, but tonight I want something different," Shiro kisses Keith's neck, caressing his sides, "Tonight, I want you to be my own personal whore."

End Notes:

There will be two more parts, but as long as this part was sitting in my drafts, I found myself rewriting it over and over again instead of moving forward. Hope you guys enjoyed.