[ There's something dizzying about this, having what he'd wanted for so long. All his vague dreamlike fantasies brought into sharp reality and Keith moaning wantonly above him, saying his name like that. Shiro tries to reply, but the needy Keith is something wet and muffled because he doesn't bother pulling his mouth away. He can't, not when he can feel the glorious contradictory sensation of the tension in Keith's muscles and the way he softens under his tongue, inviting more.
Even the scrabbling against his head feels good, Keith's fingers over his hair where it's short enough to push through to scalp. But that's not what Keith is reaching for, he can tell, and so Shiro reaches up to sweep back the longer hair of his forelock and guides Keith's hand to it. Let him tug on it, let him pull. Let him take what he needs until Shiro feels like he's going to burn with the force of their want. ]
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Even the scrabbling against his head feels good, Keith's fingers over his hair where it's short enough to push through to scalp. But that's not what Keith is reaching for, he can tell, and so Shiro reaches up to sweep back the longer hair of his forelock and guides Keith's hand to it. Let him tug on it, let him pull. Let him take what he needs until Shiro feels like he's going to burn with the force of their want. ]