Buckle in folks, this is going to be a long one. #sheith #collegeau
Keith has been looking forward to this day for months. His favorite band, The Blades, is in town and they /never/ come to Chicago. Fucking coasts, getting all the good tour dates. He shows up a half hour before doors and there's already a line. He’s scrolling through his
instagram feed, killing time when someone taps him on the shoulder.

“You go to DePaul too, right?”

The guy is tall, broad shouldered, and wearing an obscenely tight t-shirt with the Blue Demons logo on the front. A lock of white hair hangs down in front of his eyes. Keith gives
a good long once over and nods. He’s seen the guy around, and even without the t-shirt he’d recognize him from the basketball team. They only have one player with a metal arm.

“Yeah, I’m Keith.”

“Shiro,” the guy says. “I think we have multicultural seminar together.”
High school taught Keith not to make friends with jocks, but Shiro is fucking hot and they apparently both showed up alone so Keith figures there are worse ways to spend an evening.

"So what's your major," Shiro asks. Keith resists the urge to roll his eyes because it's such an
obvious question, but they clearly run in very different circles if Keith only sees him in the one non-art related class he has.

"I'm in the BFA program," he says. "I'm specializing in painting."

"Cool, acrylic or oil?" Shiro asks. It isn't a question that Keith is used to.
Most people ask something stupid like, "What do you like to paint?" or "Oh can you paint a portrait for me?" If Shiro is smart /and/ hot, Keith is totally done for.

"Acrylic," Keith answers. "I don't have the fucking patience for oils."

Shiro laughs and oh no, his /smile/.
"My grandmother used to do oil painting before her arthritis got bad," he says. "I was never allowed in her studio because something was always wet."

Keith doesnt know how to respond. He doesn't have any cute family stories to share. Barely has any family stories to share period
"So, um. What's your major?"

"Justice and Conflict studies," Shiro says.

Fuck. Keith's heart damn near stops. Of course this hot jock would not only be smart, he's gearing up to save the world. His shock must be evident on his face because Shiro smirks at him.
"What? You thought I was another dumb jock?"

"No, I just, um -- yeah, sort of."

Shiro doesn't seem to be offended though. He laughs again and the sound of it sends butterflies straight to Keith's ribcage.

"It's okay. The basketball is just for fun. I like to keep active."
He raises his prosthetic and wiggles his fingers. Keith scratches the back of his awkwardly.

"It's cool though. So you're going to go into the Law program after?"

Shiro nods. He reaches out and tucks a stray piece of hair behind Keith's ear. Keith feels his cheeks warm and has
to look away.

"Sorry," Shiro says.

"S'ok," Keith mumbles. He bites his lip and wonders if he should test the waters. "I get nervous around cute guys." He risks a glance up at Shiro and he's smiling, so that's a good sign. It's an even better sign when Shiro trails his fingers
down Keith's bare arm.

"I think you're cute too, just for the record." He slips his hand in Keith's and gives it a quick squeeze. "Line's moving." Shiro drops his hand as they head inside, the bouncer checking tickets and IDs.
Once they’re inside, Shiro steps up to the bar. “What do you want?”

Keith glances at the X's on the backs of both of his hands and back up at Shiro.

"Um, water's fine." It's not like he can afford to drink out anyway.

"I know the bartender, it's cool."

Keith shrugs.
Shiro fist bumps the bartender, a dude built like a linebacker with an orange headband on.

"Two of your finest beers for me and my friend," Shiro says, he puts a warm hand on Keith's shoulder and pulls him in.

"Coming right up." Two red solo cups appear in front of them a
moment later. Shiro raises his glass and Keith toasts before taking a drink. It surprisingly does not taste like piss. Having a bartender friend has it's perks. They head toward the stage and Keith stakes out a spot near the front. He's been dying to work out some aggression in
the pit all week long. They just got done with midterms and every single one of his papers was a beast. Why can't he just make art? Why does everyone want him to /talk/ about it?

Once the opening band starts, there isn't much opportunity for talking, but Shiro sticks by him.
When the Blades take the stage, the crowd loses their minds, Keith included. He slams himself into the bodies around him, screaming along to the songs he knows by heart. He's sweaty and filled with adrenaline when he makes his way out of the pit five songs later. Shiro catches up
with him by the bar as he grabs a cup of water.

"You were really going at it in there," he says. Keith finishes his water.

"Just because I'm small doesn't mean I can't hold my own."

"Hey, I didn't mean it like that," Shiro says. "You looked -- happy."
"Oh," Keith says. He does his best to stay under the radar, not draw attention to himself. Although Matt, his best -- only -- friend from high school would say that's why he hasn't made any friends at school yet. "It's better than therapy," he says and laughs it off as a joke.
"I dunno," Shiro says. "I found therapy pretty helpful."

Shit. Now he feels like an asshole.

"I didn't mean -- fuck, I'm sorry," Keith stammers. Shiro stops him with a hand on his shoulder.

"It's okay, I'm just saying. You're not the only one with baggage. They tend to
attract a certain type of damaged." He gestures towards the stage.

"Suppose you're right," Keith says.

"You wanna dance?"

"Yeah."

They dive back into the pit, jumping, screaming, laughing. When Keith slams into the wall that is Shiro's chest, strong arms wrap around him, keep
him steady on his feet. Someone sprays a water bottle over their heads and the two of them are covered. Shiro pulls him aside, away from the pit, his arms slide down the small of Keith's back. Keith looks up and the stage lights are reflecting in Shiro's eyes. Shiro bends down
and Keith reaches up, slides a hand around the back of his neck as their lips touch. The kiss starts slow and deepens quickly. Keith pushes himself up on his tiptoes as he kisses back, biting at Shiro's mouth.

"Fuck, Keith," Shiro gasps. "Let's take a break, okay?"
"What's wrong?"

"Nothing," Shiro says. He presses a quick kiss to Keith's mouth and leans in to whisper in his ear. "But if we keep this up I'm gonna want to drag you back to my place. And I want to see the end of the show."

Keith almost wouldn't mind missing the end of the
show if it means getting in Shiro's pants. Almost. Shiro drags him back to the bar and holds up two fingers. Two shot glasses full of amber liquid are set down in front of them.

"What is it?" Keith asks.

"You'll see," Shiro says with a wink.

They take their shots and it's all
Keith can do not to spit it right out again. Judging from the look on Shiro's face, he didn't particularly enjoy it either.

"What the fuck was that?"

"You're a sophomore and you've never done a Malort shot before? Dude, you gotta get out more."

"You like that shit?" Keith asks
Shiro shakes his head. "Fuck no, but I wasn't going to let you suffer alone."

"Ugh," Keith groans. "Get me something to get the taste out of my mouth."

Shiro grabs him by the front of his tank top and kisses him hard, Keith damn near crawls into his lap as he kisses back.
When they part, gasping for breath, Keith laughs. "That didn't help, you taste the same," he says.

"But it was a good move though, wasn't it?" Shiro says with a smirk. He gets two more shots, vodka this time and they both knock them back with ease. The two of them hang in the
back for the rest of the set, sharing another beer and kissing in between singing along. By the end of the show Keith has a nice buzz. Before they all get ushered out, Shiro drags him back up front, into the tiny photo booth by the entrance. He feeds several dollar bills into it
and pulls Keith into his lap. "Come home with me?" he asks, hopefully.

"Yeah," Keith says. "Okay."

Shiro presses start on the machine and slips his hand underneath Keith's shirt, fingers grazing over a nipple. The first flash goes off as Keith is gasping into the touch.
He turns to kiss Shiro, mostly missing his mouth during the second flash, but manages to get his tongue in Shiro's mouth for the third. Shiro grabs his ass and Keith buries his face in his neck for the fourth. Keith can already feel Shiro getting hard underneath him. He grinds
his hips down and Shiro groans and grips his ass harder. "Fuck," Shiro says. "Do you know how long I've been staring at your ass?"

"What?"

"I'm serious. Like, since the second day of the quarter when you walked into class wearing those red skinny jeans."
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Keith does know for a fact that his ass looks amazing in those jeans. He sits up and looks Shiro in the eye. "Why didn't you say anything?"

Shiro snorts out a nervous laugh. “You’ve never been very — approachable, before.”

And that much is true.Keith spends nearly all his free
time in the studio, doesn’t spare much thought for life outside his artwork.

“I’m all yours tonight,” he says, staring intensely at Shiro before leaning into to kiss him again. He doesn’t miss this time. Shiro breaks the kiss long enough to yank back the photo booth curtain and
they stumble out, a mess of limbs. Keith on just barely remembers to grab the photo strip before Shiro pulls him towards the door. They've barely taken two steps out into the cool night air before Shiro is pushing him back up against the brick facade of the venue, his hands firm
on Keith's shoulders, sliding up into his hair. Keith can't help but think they're never going to make it back to Shiro's place at this rate, but when Shiro's tongue slides against his, he doesn't mind at all. He groans into the kiss and tucks his fingers into the waistband of
Shiro's jeans, pulling him in closer. People are still filing out of the bar and drunkenly calls, "Get a room." Shiro presses his mouth to Keith's neck, sucks at his pulse, undeterred.

"Fuck, Shiro," Keith pants. "Take me back to your place so we can do this with less clothes."
With great effort, Shiro nods, taking a step back. He links his fingers in Keith's hand and they approach the crosswalk.

"How far away is it?" Keith asks. He touches the spot on his neck where Shiro's mouth was moments ago, wondering if it'll leave a mark. He wonders if he can
ask Shiro to leave a few more, just so he remembers this happening.

"Not far," Shiro says. "Just off the Southport stop."

Keith nods. That's only a few blocks away. Surely they can keep their hands off each other that long.
Keith searches his mind for a topic of conversation. Anything to keep him from literally jumping into Shiro's arms and attaching himself to his face like a jellyfish.

"Do you um-- like living in this neighborhood?"

Shiro's smile is illuminated by the amber glow of the
streetlights. He's absolutely gorgeous. Keith can't believe he didn't notice someone as beautiful as Shiro checking him out all quarter.

"Yeah," Shiro says softly. "It's quieter than Wrigleyville." They stop at another crosswalk and Shiro squeezes his hand gently.
"And my place is walking distance to the Pick Me Up, if you want to get breakfast in the morning."

Keith's mouth goes a little dry. They haven't even gotten back to Shiro's place and he's already talking about breakfast. Fuck. They turn on to Roscoe and Keith tugs gently on
Shiro's hand. He pushes himself up on his tiptoes to kiss him and Shiro's prosthetic arm winds firmly around his waist. Before Keith realizes what's happening, Shiro's dragging him off the sidewalk, pushing him up against the door of an empty storefront. He wedges a thigh between
Keith's legs and grinds against him. Keith squeezes his eyes shut tight and groans. With strong hands on his hips, Shiro turns him around and Keith feels the cool press of glass underneath his fingertips. A shiver runs down his spine. Shiro's hands are working at the zipper of
his jeans and before he knows it, Keith feels cool night air on his ass. They're hidden only by the alcove of the storefront and the shade of a single tree, shielding them from the lamplight across the street. Keith couldn't care less. He arches his hips back and Shiro's hands
his ass.

"Fuck," Shiro growls. "I can't wait to taste you."

Shiro's mouth is hot against his skin, wet kisses across his ass, the nip of teeth as he works his way lower. The press of Shiro's tongue against his hole is a shock and Keith moans loudly, presses his forehead against
against the window, fogging up the glass. He's glad he showered before coming to the show because god only knows what he smells like after a night in the pit. Shiro doesn't seem to mind though, diving in full force, broad strokes of his tongue circling around Keith's rim.
"Oh /fuck/," Keith whispers. His voice comes out shakey and he can't help pushing his hips back against Shiro's face. Shiro pauses only long enough to sink his teeth into Keith's ass cheek.

"You like that?" Shiro says. He doesn't wait for an answer before spreading Keith open
again and pressing his tongue in deeper. Keith chokes out a sob and spreads his legs as wide as his jeans will allow. Shiro is actually moaning against his skin as he fucks Keith open with his tongue, and the knowledge that Shiro is getting off on this as much as he is makes his
dick twitch. He reaches down to touch himself, one long slow pull from the base up to the head. He's always been more of fan of instant gratification but the slow build of his orgasm at the base of his spine is too good to rush.

"Shiro," he pants out. "I'm gonna --"
Shiro sinks his teeth into his ass again, presses a soft kiss to the bite.

"Fuck yeah," he groans. "Come for me."

He presses the tip of a finger against Keith's hole, pushing in gently. Slowly twisting it as he works it in. Keith jerks himself faster. Shiro's tongue returns,
licking around the finger in his ass. It doesn't take long before Keith comes with a stifled shout, sinking his teeth into the back of his hand. He feels a little bad about coming all over the side of the storefront window, but not bad enough to do anything about it.
Shiro slowly works his finger out of him and presses up behind him. Keith laughs, high on adrenaline and oxytocin. Shiro pushes his hair out of the way and kisses the back of his neck. He grinds his hips against Keith's bare ass and Keith pushes back against him.
"God, I want to fuck you right now," Shiro whispers against his skin.

Keith hasn't even seen Shiro's dick yet, but assuming it's proportionate to the rest of him, he's probably going to need a good stretch and a fair amount of lube.
But what ends up coming out of Keith's mouth is, "Do you have a condom?"

Because apparently he's the kind of guy who likes getting fucked in public on a first date. If you can even call it a date. College is all about learning knew things about yourself so Keith decides he's
doing just fine.

"Fuck," Shiro swears and Keith assumes that means no. "I didn't exactly expect this."

Keith turns around to face him and tucks himself back into his jeans. "Guess that means you're going to have to wait."

Shiro whines and presses his forehead to Keith's
shoulder. It's kind of cute actually. Keith turns his head to kiss his cheek and gropes him through his jeans. Shiro's whine goes deep and husky in an instant. Keith slips a hand underneath his waistband, not bothering to unbutton his jeans. He rubs a thumb teasingly over the
head of Shiro's cock and all he can think is, "Holy shit, he's /huge/."

There's drunken laughter coming from across the street as people leave the bowling alley and Keith freezes. Neither of them move until the sounds fade into the distance. Shiro laughs, relieved and stands up.
"Close one," he whispers.

"Yeah," Keith agrees. "Guess we should get going."

"You might want to take your hand out of my pants first," Shiro says. Keith twists his hand around him, squeezing just a little before letting go.

"I guess," he says. Shiro groans and adjusts himself.
When they finally make it to Shiro's place, Keith almost laughs at how close they were. He had his pants down and Shiro's tongue in his ass /out in the open/ and they were half a block away from Shiro's apartment. When he unlocks the door, Shiro looks around the darkened
apartment. "Lance?" he calls out, "Are you home?" He breathes a sigh of relief and pulls Keith into his arms. "Thank fuck, he's at his girlfriend's."

"What were you going to do if he wasn't?" Keith asks.

"Tell him to stay in his room and put on his headphones."
They stumble towards Shiro's bedroom in the dark, hands fumbling to tug off clothing on the way. By the time they make it to Shiro's room and he switches on the light, Keith's jeans are undone and Shiro is shirtless. A handful of scars criscross over his abdomen and Keith traces
one with a gentle finger. He runs his hands over Shiro's abs and bends his head to swirl a tongue over a nipple. Shiro tightens a hand in Keith's hair and Keith grazes his teeth over him.

"Fuck," Shiro swears. "Get naked. Now." Keith doesn't need to be told twice.
He strips off his tank top and shimmies out of jeans. He pauses to watch Shiro unbutton his jeans, pulling them down, along with his underwear in a single swift motion. His cock is hard and flushed, jutting out away from his body. Keith can't fucking wait to have it inside him.
He drags his eyes back up to meet Shiro's and licks his lips. Slowly, he turns around, pulling his underwear down and bending over to give Shiro a good long look. Shiro's on him in an instant. Strong arms winding around his chest and kisses pressed to his neck.
"Are you trying to kill me?" Shiro asks.

"Just giving you a good show," Keith says. "Since you've been watching for so long."

Shiro grinds his hard-on against Keith's ass. Keith pushes back against him and bites down on his bottom lip.

"Condom," he says. "Now."
Shiro pushes him back onto the bed, and /thank god/ it's not a twin. He rummages around in his dresser and returns with a condom and lube. Keith makes himself comfortable among Shiro's collection of pillow -- how many pillows does one person need? -- and pulls his knees up to
his chest. Shiro settles down in front of him and leans down for a kiss.

"How much stretching do you need?" he asks. "Because you uh, were pretty tight."

Keith's cheeks flush a deeper shade of pink. "Not a lot," he says. It's been a while since he's anything other than a dildo
up his ass and Shiro is bigger than his biggest. But he's also more than a little bit into the pain of being just a little bit too tight. Most guys are into that, but sometimes when he vocalizes it, they get weirded out.

"You sure?" Shiro asks. Keith nods. He looks away from
Shiro's eyes when he answers. "I like being a little tight."

"Oh," Shiro says. Keith meets his eyes and now Shiro's cheeks have gone pink. As though he didn't just have his face in Keith's ass /in public/ not ten minutes ago. "Okay. Just tell me when you're ready?"

"Okay."
Shiro slicks his fingers and Keith takes his hand, guiding him between his legs.

"Start with two," he says. Shiro's fingers are thicker than his own and as he works them inside, Keith thinks maybe he was a little overeager. His body acclimates quickly and normal Keith would tell
him to get on with it, but now that he's seen Shiro's dick up close he thinks better of himself. Shiro fingers him slowly, more patient than Keith would have thought after being so desperate on the way home. His knuckles brush against Keith's prostate, sending lightning up
Keith's spine. He arches up off the bed, swearing under his breath.

"Okay?" Shiro asks, but there's a smirk pulling at his lips.

"Shut up and give me more," Keith says.

"Bossy," Shiro says softly, but before Keith can return with a response he pushes in a third finger and
Keith kind of wants to cry from how good it feels. "Okay," he pants. "Okay. You really need to fuck me now."

Shiro smiles and bends to press a kiss to the inside of his knee. It's such a soft gesture and it makes warmth pool in the pit of Keith's stomach. Shiro wipes his fingers
off on a tissue and rolls on the condom, slicking himself up with more lube.

"How do you wanna --?" he asks, leaving the question open. Keith rolls over onto his stomach and pushes himself up on his hands and knees. Shiro moves behind him and his prosthetic hand settles at the
small of Keith's back, the metal cool against his skin. Keith looks back over his shoulder as Shiro is lining himself up.

"You can pull my hair, if you want." He's never had any one turn him down on that one before. Shiro pushes into him slowly and the stretch is /perfect/.
He covers Keith's body with his own, kisses his shoulder.

"Do /you/ want me to?" he asks. Keith nods, glad they're not face to face.

"Yeah."

"Okay, then."

Shiro's fingers thread through his hair, tightening just slightly as he begins to move.
He fucks Keith hard, pulling whimpers and moans out of him with every thrust. Keith tightens his fingers in the sheets and drops his head to the mattress. It changes the angle and now Shiro is fucking him even deeper and Keith feels like he's /melting/. Shiro pulls out almost
all the way and slams back in /hard/, his metal fingers digging into the flesh of Keith's ass and Keith screams into the mattress.

"Enjoying yourself?" Shiro asks. He sounds out of breath but Keith can /hear/ the smirk. Keith feels so good he can't even be bothered to banter
back. "Fuck yes," he moans. "Your cock feels so /good./"

Shiro fucks into him harder, faster, tightens his fingers and pulls Keith's head back.

"You gonna come a second time for me?"

Keith sure as hell wants to. He reaches down to wrap a hand around his dick, jerks himself
frantically.

"That's it," Shiro says. "Come on, baby."

Normally, Keith hates pet names. He especially hates them during sex. He might be small, but he is /no ones/ baby. But when Shiro says it, it doesn't sound patronizing. It makes him feel like he could fall apart and Shiro
would be right there waiting to put him back together. When Keith finally comes, his legs nearly give out. Shiro holds him up, continues to pound into him and it feels amazing despite the fact that his dick is down for the count.
"Shiro," Keith moans, "Fuck."

Shiro pulls out and rolls Keith onto his back. Keith watches as he peels off the condom, his hand moving quickly over the head of his cock. Part of him wants to help, wants to touch Shiro where ever he can reach, but another part -- the sleepy sated
part -- wants bury his face in Shiro's chest and sleep for a hundred years.

"Come on," Keith says sleepily, "I wanna cuddle you."

He's not sure what it says about either of them that seconds later, Shiro is coming in hot stripes over Keith's stomach, but he's too tired to care.
Shiro curls along side him, kisses him softly. Keith places a hand against his chest and feels the rise and fall as his breathing slows back to normal.

"We should get cleaned up," Shiro says quietly.

"Too tired," Keith says. "Someone fucked me into unconsciousness."
Shiro snorts out a laugh. Keith feels the weight on the bed shift and hears foot steps head out the door. Shiro returns with a washcloth wipes them both down and curls back into bed, Keith snuggles up next to him.

"Can I take you out on a proper date sometime?" Shiro asks.
Keith laughs. He uses the last of his energy to wrap a hand around the back of Shiro's neck and kiss him soundly.

"Sure thing."

-FIN-
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Bonus notes: The bar/venue that the boys go to is based on Schubas Tavern and it is one of my favorite music venues in Chicago. Also this is Shiro's major because once I saw I couldn't NOT okay. depaul.edu/academics/unde…
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