.

.

It's faint, so faint — but Shiro can still catch the scent of bonfire ashes in Keith's hair.

He inhales deep, pressing their bodies together again, wordlessly thrilled by the slickness on his belly, how his own cock twitches noticeably between them. Keith mumbles out, groaning loudly when Shiro lifts himself up slightly and unclenches his muscles, using one hand to ease Keith's dick slowly out of him.

His come dribbles out of Shiro, gleaming translucent-white, rolling and drying on his thighs. There's barely any light left except for the van's headlights and the glow-blue of Shiro's cellphone on 25% battery.

Keith breathes sharply underneath him, hot and drowsy on Shiro's face.

"You okay?" Shiro whispers, crumpling up the towel he wipes himself off on. When there's no answer, he adjusts them on the pile of sleeping bags and hugs Keith from behind, mouthing his naked shoulder. "Hey, I know that…" Shiro tries again, his tone low and rumbling. "You don't wanna go home right now, but…"

It's not like he can blame Keith for it. Not after losing his father.

"Let's just stay here… …"

There's a hint of wavering in Keith's voice, muffled by the woolen, plaid blankets. Shiro frowns and kisses his throat once, nodding. "Yeah, we can do that," he announces, rubbing Keith's hip. His fingertips massage softly over his protruding hip-bone. "Go hiking in the morning when you're up and ready. Wanna try fishing?"

A part of Shiro misses the uproar and perpetual energy of the city, where they're both from, born and raised.

It's too peaceful out here, with the chirping of insects surrounding the thicket and sunset drenching every crevice, with not enough distractions to keep his mind from racing. Worrying about his future as a high-ranking military pilot and officer, and leaving Keith on his own.

Keith's face glances over, as he turns and shifts around in the circle of Shiro's burly arms. His eyes aren't bloodshot-red, but there's a film of moisture on his dark, full lashes.

"… You don't know how to fish," Keith says hoarsely. The corners of his mouth relax, tilting upwards.

It's exactly what Shiro hoped to see.

"That's why I need a teacher," he says, chuckling lightheartedly and pushing Keith's bangs out of his face. Nobody how many times they've done this, lying down together, Shiro can always feel his own pulse quick-speeding. "A good one. I don't even know how you know how to fish in the middle of nowhere…"

"I'm going with you," Keith interrupts. His pupils blown-black. He smells heavily like soap and cologne and sex, and maybe even the steamed-up, opaque van windows do too. "Into the military. I'm going."

Shiro blinks, getting up on his elbow without thinking about it.

"Keith, maybe you should wait and—"

"—I'm going," Keith repeats stubbornly, quietly. "I'm going back with you."

He doesn't have it in him to argue, not this late and not in the calm of the woods, and even so… Shiro would be lying if he didn't admit he is relieved. He wants Keith with him, always, always.

Shiro looks him up and down, and then sighs, cupping his organic palm over the back of Keith's skull.

"Okay," he says into a brief, warm half-kiss, listening to Keith's satisfied, tired humming and crawling up towards the front seat, jacking up the air-conditioner to full arctic blast.

Vacation will end after July. Shiro plans on making a few important phone calls before then, along with moving Keith's personal possessions into his apartment. They already share a toothbrush occasionally, when Keith spends his night going through his term papers with Shiro or the late-night studying.

(Late-night everything, from old classic movies to pizza dates to sparring, to aggressively fucking on the couch cushions or against a slippery, wet shower-door or while being held to the bedroom's wall.)

Keith embraces him tightly around the waist, as soon as Shiro huddles down, his eyes shut. Love you passes as a murmury, solemn proclamation, born off Keith's own kiss-raw lips. Love you chases Shiro's own darkness and doubts away, echoing on his mouth, tracing every syllable into Keith's pale, stubbled skin.

.

.


Voltron isn't mine. Hello hello! It's Summer Sheith Week on Tumblr (as well as Sheith Month! Wow!) and I'm here to share what I wrote for "Day 3: Camping" for Summer Sheith Week! I know I know I'm a day late and it was "No Prompt/Free Day" for Sheith Month so I'm cramming both together! I WANTED SOMETHING ROMANTIC AND ANGSTY AND FULL OF FEELS. HERE WE GO! Please leave a nice word or two if you read this! Thanks so much! :)