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It’s still dark when Shiro rises, disentangling himself from sheets and limbs with a kiss to his partner’s brow. There’s a sleepy grumble and an arm that makes a clumsy swipe through the empty space before Shiro replaces it with a pillow. It’s accepted quickly, a deep inhale pressed to the fabric before he settles, and Shiro holds the fond warmth close as he gets ready for the day.
“Be quick.” The sleepy mumble comes just as he’s leaving the room twenty minutes later. His bedmate’s eyes shine by the light from the door, dark stars right there in his bed, and Shiro gives him a cheeky grin.
“Promise.”
Shiro gets a snort in response and closes the door on the shuffling that comes after. Jacket zipped and bag slung over his shoulder, Shiro heads to work. It’s quiet when he arrives, the sky only a slightly lighter shade of deep blue. Marmora manor still sleeps.
The paths are lit, but Shiro keeps to the shadows, out of the way of lights and cameras. The white of his hair is covered and makeup disguises the scar on his face, but even with that, facial recognition is getting better and better. He has a plan and it doesn’t include getting caught here.
His access is through the kitchen receiving dock. Shiro jimmies the lock and hoists himself through the gap in the bay door. He moves quickly to close the door and silence the alarm, then works on getting changed in a nook hidden from the camera. Nondescript clothes get replaced by Altean blues, and the simple jacket thrown back over top.
His bag gets stuffed in a crate before he moves into the kitchen proper. He has about five minutes to get scarce, the kitchen staff some of the first to wake and start working.
Shiro takes a knife from a drawer, sheath and all, and tucks it into his belt at the back. Weapon secured, he heads deeper into the manor. He has the guard route memorized, the layout as familiar as Altea’s palace at this point. For a moment he wishes he had Pidge’s voice in his ear and her hacking prowess to give him access to the cameras.
But the goal for this mission is to complete it with as little assistance as possible.
He listens for steps as he moves through the halls. The staff apartments are a relatively small portion of the Marmora manor but the halls are still patrolled, still protected. There are all sorts that would try to sneak close to the head of the family.
It gets harder to stay out of sight in the more public spaces. The halls are wider, the rooms more spacious. The guards here have stations and sharp eyes. There’s very little for intruders to hide behind. Shiro keeps his heart steady with even breath, and stays in the shadows, but he knows this is where he’s likely to get caught.
His steps are light, barely a whisper across marble flooring. The sun is starting to rise, warping the shadows from the wall sconces and deepening the ones under the windows. There’s a grunt as he slips through a door and a rush of steps as they come to investigate, but Shiro has found the library.
He ducks between the shelves, steps muffled by carpet, and heads for the opposite entrance. The guard’s radio crackles with an inquiry as Shiro pulls a book off the shelf and lets it drop. He’s out of the aisle before the guard enters, and out of the room before he hears the response.
The library backs onto the courtyards and as the sun rises, so does the manor. The live-in staff has free access to the grounds and he can already see a few using the paths for their morning runs.
Shiro’s on a clock now.
He walks along the side of the building, keeping under the balconies above. When he enters the central wing, he wonders if he waited too long to execute the mission. His target shouldn’t be this far in. But there’s a shout when he turns a corner and feet, two sets, race from behind.
Shiro bolts.
He runs past another guard and into the stairwell. He takes them three at a time, listening as their shouts draw close and as they burst through the door behind him.
Three guards on his tail now, Shiro continues to climb. Gun shots bounce off the rails and lodge in the steps and the walls. One glances off the metal of his right arm and he curses, picking up the pace to reach the top floor.
A radio hisses with questions demanding answers. Among the misfires and clamour, Shiro hears 'top floor' just as he reaches the same floor and takes the door out of the stairwell. He’s faced with a wall of guards, all armed and waiting and Shiro knows he’s done. He sighs, raising his hands above his head as the other three come up behind him.
After a beat of silence, one guard in particular steps forward. He’s not the biggest but his black eyes are severe and the braid looped around his neck does nothing to lessen the impact. His gun gets holstered.
“You will remain silent,” he says, voice a growl as he pulls out a pair of handcuffs. He takes Shiro’s hands, pulls them down and behind. His jacket does nothing to hide the Altean blues beneath it now.
Something cold is slipped into his palm.
“You two.” He gestures with a flick of his wrist once Shiro is cuffed. The two that spotted him originally stand straighter. “Take him to Kogane. The rest of you, back to your stations.”
“Sir!”
The guards aren’t gentle when they grab him by the arms. They pull and and drag, taking him further in towards the personal chambers of the Marmora Family.
“You think you’re better than us?” the one on the left jibes. “Think you can get away with trying to assassinate the Master?” Shiro can’t help his answering snort.
“You’re not getting out of this alive, Altean scum,” the other breathes hot on his ear and Shiro cringes away in disgust. The muscle in his left shoulder pulls.
“Nothing to say for yourself?”
“Nothing to say to you,” Shiro allows and takes the shove even as it makes his shoulder flare with pain.
“You’ll be speaking to the Master soon,” the right one snarls. “Hopefully your last words will be meaningful.” Shiro clenches his jaw to hold back the scoff.
There’s no labels on the door but the entry to Kogane’s office is obvious. Another pair of guards stand just outside and they hold the doors open to allow them to pass.
“You’re late.”
Kogane stands behind his desk, hands clasped behind his back. He looks disinterested as he takes Shiro in. “Thank you,” he addresses the guards at the doors. He nods and the doors close.
Shiro hears the lock turn.
“We’ve brought you the intruder, sir,” Left Guard says. Shiro doesn’t need to look to know there’s a sly curve to his grin. Kogane hums, tilting his head to the side. The morning sun slides across the side of his face, highlighting the scar along his cheek. He looks at the two of them, eyes lidded and a smirk pulling at the corners of his lips. His eyes land on Shiro, glimmering with amusement.
“You brought me two today, good job.”
Shiro breaths deep, feeling the praise down to his core. With a twist of his wrists, the handcuffs drop and the knife is pulled from his belt. The ‘guards’ shout, scramble for their guns. Shiro twists to the left, covers the muzzle of the gun with his right hand, and takes the bullet to his mechanical palm.
“You–!” The ‘guard’s’ eyes are wide and his voice cuts off as the knife slides between his ribs. There’s another gunshot, silenced, and a heavy thump as the second intruder crumples to the floor. Shiro’s guard whimpers as he falls, breaths heavy. The knife handle shakes with his trembling.
Kogane comes around the desk, his gun placed on the corner. Shiro lays the stolen gun beside it as the door is unlocked.
“Take them away,” Kogane commands. Shiro takes a rag from his jacket and cleans the blood from his hands as Kogane’s actual guards, Ilun and Vrek come in. “Get what you can from that one and dispose of them after.” The wave of his hand is dismissive.
The intruder is shaking his head, ‘no’s chanting from trembling lips. Kogane pays him no mind as he’s collected from the floor.
“It’s almost noon, Shiro,” Kogane tells him. He rounds his desk again and sits smoothly in his chair. “I thought I told you to be quick.”
“It’s nine am,” Shiro counters. He shoves the rag back in his pocket before shrugging out of the jacket. He lets it drop carelessly to the floor. There’s a spot of blood on his uniform but he knows rubbing at it will make it worse so he leaves it be.
Distantly, he hears the lock turn again.
Kogane snorts, leaning back in his seat and gesturing Shiro forward with a finger. Shiro goes willingly, climbing into his lap when fingers hook into his belt loop. “It’s been a while since I’ve seen these.” Kogane’s voice, rough like warm sand, sends shivers down Shiro’s spine. Deft fingers pluck at the hem of his uniform jacket and make quick work of the belt that holds it closed.
“Do you like it when I wear my blues?” Shiro asks, basking in the heat of Kogane’s gaze, the graze of his fingers like fire. Kogane’s hand slides up his chest, undoing buttons along the way. His eyes are dark, the deep indigo of his irises a slim ring of colour.
“I like you better in mine.” The jacket slides off Shiro’s shoulders, leaving him in the soft cotton of his t-shirt. Kogane clicks his tongue. “You’re not even in full regulation, Shiro,” he scolds.
Shiro ducks his head when Kogane pulls away, the absence chilling. He props his cheek on his one fist, hiding part of his scar. The other hangs off the arm of the chair. He adjusts his feet to sit Shiro up higher and Shiro shakes. His fists tremble at his sides in an effort to keep still.
He’s not allowed to touch yet.
“Do you even deserve your reward?” Kogane asks. “Late. Not properly dressed. Uniform stained.” Shiro stiffens, swallowing hard under Kogane’s stare. He ignores the way he’s straining in his pants, probably staining another part of his uniform.
“What do you have to say for yourself?”
“I’m sorry,” Shiro gasps. He doesn’t look away, doesn’t dare close his eyes. “I got cocky. I waited too long. I let them get too close. I won’t let it happen again.”
Kogane hums and his palm smooths up Shiro’s thigh. He digs into the muscle, massaging up towards his up and back down to his knee. Shiro’s breath shakes in his chest.
“My bodyguard is better than money can buy,” Kogane says. “I don’t think I need to explain his prowess to the likes of you.” His smile is coy as Shiro shakes his head, a tease as his tongue darts out to wet his lips. “Tell me,” he demands. “Did he get hurt today due to your foolishness?”
“No, sir.”
Kogane moves, quick as a snake, and Shiro’s left arm is taken and twisted behind his back. His shoulder flares and he grits his teeth against the pain. He only registers the gasping whine after it’s left his throat.
“Why do you lie?” Kogane’s breath ghosts across Shiro’s neck.
“It was minor,” Shiro gasps out. “I didn’t want you to worry.” The hold loosens and Shiro sags. Kogane’s arm loops around his waist and guides Shiro with him as he sits back in his chair again. Shiro lets his head rest on Kogane’s shoulder and fully submits to his hold.
Kogane’s hands are a brand as they travel up his back, down over his hips. He takes Shiro’s hands in his, places them on his shoulders, and Shiro breaks. He traces the muscle hidden underneath, the dips and planes hidden by silk. He skims the buttons of his shirt and Kogane’s voice vibrates in his ear.
“Undress me.”
The belt is undone with frantic precision, slacks unzipped and shirt untucked. One by one, the buttons come open and the tie is pulled loose. Kogane sits up, taking Shiro with him and Shiro pushes the fabric off his shoulders, over his hips.
“Get your uniform and put it on.”
He nearly trips but Shiro manages to climb off Kogane’s lap. The heat in his blood races, makes his hands shake as he pulls the jacket back on. He only looks away for a moment but it’s all that’s needed for Kogane to take his dick out.
“Down.” Kogane spreads his knees, leaning back as he gives himself a slow tug. Shiro drops. He slots himself between Kogane’s knees, careful to keep his hands to himself. His mouth waters as he takes in Kogane’s cock, moderately thick and long enough to make his throat ache for it. The head gleams with pre in the morning sun right before its wiped away.
“You’re going to make me come,” Kogane directs. He reaches for Shiro, the leather of his fingerless gloves warm on his cheek. His thumb scrubs under his eye, freeing the end of the scar across his nose of makeup. “And you don’t get to swallow any of it.”
Shiro whines and Kogane smirks, grins almost. His dick twitches in his other hand. “This is your punishment. This is what you deserve. Now do as I say before I decide you don’t get to come either.” He takes Shiro by the front of his hair and Shiro gasps, jaw dropping and ready for when Kogane slides between his lips.
He lets Kogane control his motions, focusing entirely on the heavy weight on his tongue and the heady scent that takes over his senses. He curls his tongue along the underside with the push and tug, coaxes Kogane deeper with each roll of his hips. The slide is smooth as he slips into the back of Shiro’s throat, and Shiro groans.
He swallows, relishing in the shaking sigh that spills from Kogane's lips. The hold changes, shifts to hold him still. Shiro fingers dig into his own thighs. The first thrust is gentle, the second a little less so, until Kogane forgets about Shiro and starts to use him instead. His lungs burn, tears flood his eyes, but every so often Shiro will get a taste, a burst of pre over the back of his tongue, and that makes it all worth it.
Kogane’s thumb brushes the corner of his mouth where it’s stretched wide. He coos as his thrusts turn into deep rolling pushes, feeling like a punch every time. “So pretty,” he says, crooning as he pulls back just enough for Shiro to let out a broken whine. “You’re doing so good, so well, and all just for me.”
Then the thrusts turn hard again, trapping what little breath Shiro has left. His head is held with both hands, his own clinging to his slacks because if he gets off, it’s only to this; the feeling of Kogane’s cock as it punches into his throat, his scent taking over everything.
He’s close, Shiro knows, the short gasps and the twitching fingers telltale. Shiro seals his lips over the root and sucks on one particular hard thrust and Kogane howls, tearing Shiro off and he’s coming in ropes across his face, dripping down his chin. Shiro groans, can feel his own dick twitching in his pants as Kogane fists his dick and paints his come where he wants.
He can feel it dripping, feel it catch on the collar of his jacket and land on his thighs. The urge to lick his lips, to flick his tongue out and taste, is greater than anything else. And he tries, he really tries to keep his tongue still but the smell is so good and it’s there.
Salt and musk and Keith blooms across his tongue, everything Shiro ever wanted and will ever want in his life.
Fingers grab his jaw, holding it open as Shiro is dragged forwards and up so he’s balanced precariously on his knees. Those fingers, half covered in leather, delve into his mouth and drag across his tongue. They take the taste of him with them, leaving behind leather and salty skin which is not what Shiro wants but will take.
“What did I say?” The fingers are wiped clean then dive back, looking to scrape away every drop. Shiro’s heart skips a beat.
“I didn’t swallow,” he says when his mouth is freed.
Kogane stills.
He stares at Shiro, face impassive. His hand hovers, fingers glistening with spit and come. Shiro practically holds his breath, heart pounding in his ears and he knows that Kogane can feel it. Then he grins, sharp and coy.
“Such a good boy.”
The praise sinks into Shiro’s bones, sends a shiver down his spine and settles deep in his core. He knows the flush in his cheeks is bright. Kogane’s hand comes back, fingers dipping past Shiro’s lips. He smears the mix across Shiro’s tongue until his fingers are clean. He pulls back only to drag his thumb across Shiro’s lips and push more cum between them.
“You’ll keep this safe for me, right?” Kogane asks, and Shiro nods, almost frantic. The urge to swallow is strong but Kogane hasn't said he could yet. Kogane’s thumb slips free, caresses Shiro's bottom lip.
"Good." It's a purr that sends another shiver down his spine, dick straining against his slacks. "Such a good boy," he says. "So perfect, just for me." And Shiro is coming, gasping into Kogane's hold as his hips roll, getting what little friction he can on his cock.
Kogane hums, pleased as he runs steadying fingers through Shiro's hair. There's a softer edge to his eyes now, warm, loving. It gives him the courage to speak, even through the treasure that sits on his tongue.
"Keith."
And the mask falls away and Keith comes forward, kissing him hard and dirty. He licks into Shiro's mouth, kissing away his own come until he growls, "Swallow," against his lips. Shiro obeys with a groan, dick giving a hardy twitch in its own mess.
The kisses grow softer then, smooth caresses instead of hard biting, until it's only breath shared between them. After a moment, Keith shifts a hand away, wrist twisting until he can see the watch face.
Time is short, Shiro knows, but Keith doesn't say anything. His hand returns, caressing his jaw where it's clear of the mess and combing through his undercut. So Shiro closes his eyes and lets himself be.
"Let's get you cleaned up," Keith says eventually but he doesn't move. Shiro has no idea how long it's been. "I have a meeting with Allura in twenty. We can't have her tribute to me looking like a two-bit whore." Shiro takes a deep breath, mentally and physically preparing to move. He lifts his head from where it was resting on Keith's knee and opens his eyes on the exhale.
Keith is smiling at him and Shiro feels the love in his heart, his chest warming instantly. "I love you," Shiro whispers. Keith dips down, kissing him solidly with single minded devotion.
"I love you too," he murmurs against Shiro's lips. Shiro kisses him again, then again and again until Keith, laughing where they're connected, pulls them up together. "Let's go."