#like when i say detailed i mean every single step and i even drew diagrams in mspaint

[cursedauxiliary]

I hope the extremely detailed western blot protocol is helping the future interns and students at my previous job...

[bingbong21]

Domestic Desires

Summary:  Shiro attempts to make his boyfriend's favorite muffins to help ease some of his stress. Keith has other ideas on how Shiro can help. 18+ content. 

A/N: For @aceofspeight, who said so long as I made blueberry muffin porn I could do whatever the hell I wanted with. Thus this was born. You can read it on ao3 here or on FFN here. 

When Keith stepped into his apartment, he quickly became aware of two things; one, that the small kitchen looked like it had been the host for a no-holds barred turf war between rivaling bakeries, only to have two lovers from opposing sides rush to the middle, make a passionate speech about “making love, not war”, and inspiring a drunken orgy of baked goods. Two, his boyfriend stood in the middle of ground zero holding a pan of what could only be described at the unholy illegitimate children of the affairs that transpired. He took a tentative step inside, afraid that one wrong move could trigger a hidden pie landmine.

“So…” internally Keith was proud of the nonchalance he exuded in the face of such culinary carnage, “What uh…what happened here?”

Shiro sighed as he ran a hand through his hair, spreading flour more evenly throughout, “You’ve seemed kind of stressed lately, and I know blueberry muffins are your favorite, so I asked Hunk for a recipe. And, well…” He gestured helplessly at the tray in his hand, “Ta-da.”

Keith peered at the tray, nose wrinkling at the sickeningly sweet scent of singed blueberries. The tops of every single muffin had caved in; the ones in the center were a blackened crisp, while the outermost muffins were barely baked. Although the ones in the middle looked delicious and edible with the blueberries staining the moist tops, Keith knew from past experience that just because Shiro makes something that looks good doesn’t mean it won’t give you food poisoning. He learned that one the hard way, and now had difficulty looking at chicken without feeling phantom cramps.

“You know you could’ve just gotten me a box of mini muffins right?”

Shiro stared at a corner of the room, a slight flush on his face, “I know, but Hunk made it sound so easy, and you deserve better than just crummy junk snacks.”

Keith pressed a kiss under Shiro’s jaw, taking the tray from his hands and placing it on the counter, “Hunk literally makes five-star crème brulee for fun Shiro, of course he’d make it sound easy.”

His reassurances that Shiro wasn’t a hopeless case fell on deaf ears, Shiro’s frown deepening as his brows furrowed together. Keith sighed, looping his arms around Shiro’s neck and standing on the tips of his toes to press his forehead against his boyfriend’s, “You know, if you’re really dead set on this whole homemade thing, we could, you know, make them together?”

Shiro’s reaction was instantaneous; his face lit up like someone plugged in the lights of a Christmas tree. Keith couldn’t muffle the yelp that morphed into laughter as Shiro leaned down, nuzzling into his neck and pressing light kisses, “I promise you won’t regret it,” Shiro murmured, pressing a light kiss to his lips.

Keith chuckled, a small smirk on his face, “Oh really now? Because I believe we have a security deposit from our last place that would beg to differ.”

The slap on the arm was worth the exaggerated scandalized look on Shiro’s face, “I told you, that was all Lance and Pidge!”

“Whatever helps you sleep at night,” Keith presses a kiss to his cheek before pulling away. “So where is this so-called easy recipe?”

Shiro presented a piece of paper, the handwriting clearly Hunk’s. Keith quickly read through the ingredients and directions, eyebrows raising at the massive amounts of underlines, stars, scratched out sentences, and diagrams? He snorted; leave it to Hunk to give baking instructions so thorough that they circled back to being confusing. Even with the years of practice he had with deciphering Shiro and Allura’s handwriting Keith struggled to understand the print, the large letters piled on top of each other and crammed into every space available. He glanced over at Shiro, who was currently reading over his shoulder with arms wrapped around his narrow waist with brows cutely furrowed in concentration, and thought that it was honestly a miracle the muffins came out resembling muffins if this overly detailed mess was what he had to follow. Still, if homemade was what Shiro wanted to do then who was he to deny the love of his life such a simple request? It helped that no matter how mundane the challenge he was never one to back down, and baking with Shiro using Hunk’s instructions was quite possibly the definition of ‘mundane challenge’.

He sighed, begrudgingly pulling himself from Shiro’s embrace and pocketing the instructions, “Alright, you dump the first batch and I’ll scrub out the bowl. Is the oven still at four hundred degrees?”

“It should be,” Shiro opened the trash can, shaking out the botched remains from the pan, “Unless Pidge, Hunk, and Coran finally succeeded in making it sentient and it turned itself off.”

Keith shuddered at the memory as he turned on the water; the Toaster Oven Incident of 2014 was a setback for culinary advancements everywhere. Scrubbing out the bowl was easier than he thought, most of the batter so runny that it only required the water from the faucet running over it to disappear down the drain. There were some patches where the batter was thick like dough; those areas required Keith to scrub and chip away until they flaked off. He was glad that he had the foresight to remove his jacket and gloves after he had entered as water had already splashed onto his bare forearms. He grabbed the dish towel hanging beneath the sink to not only dry the bowl but his arms in the vain hope that flour and baking soda wouldn’t be attracted to them. He glanced down as if just remembering that he was wearing an all-black t-shirt, the ultimate magnet for pure white messes. Sighing he turned around with the bowl in hand, already resigned to his fate, and nearly dropped the clean bowl in surprise as his breath catches in his throat at the sight before him.

Shiro stood in front of the counter, fingers deftly dropping paper wrappers in the cupcake pan. The muscled expanse of his back was bound only by a thin grey shirt that clung so tightly to his body that it appeared painted on. The tight black jeans he wore weren’t any better as they accentuated his ass, making it appear so round and temptingly squeezable. As enticing as these simple clothes made him appear what had stolen Keith’s breath away was the sight of Shiro in their apron, the strings tied behind his back in a bow like a present just begging to be unwrapped. The strings hugged the gentle curve of his waist, pulling the simple black cloth stained with batter and flour tight against the hard planes of his body. Like a beacon the simple white text drew the eyes to his broad chest, forcing the reader to momentarily ogle Shiro’s impressive pectorals as they read “When I cook, I wear my cape backwards”; not the most titillating sentence in existence, yet the dorky humor somehow added to the sensual allure that Keith attributed to the apron. He wasn’t sure why the sight of his long-term boyfriend wearing the apron sent his pulse racing and blood boiling. It certainly wasn’t because they selected it together, as it had been a housewarming gift from Hunk after they had moved into their current apartment. Perhaps it was because he considered the apron part of his personal wardrobe, given how frequently he wore it, and the sight of Shiro in something of his provoked a previously unexplored possessive side. Or perhaps it was because the apron paired with his normally doting boyfriend filled his mind with scenarios of coming home from a long day to be greeted by the love of his life, like some housewife in a fifties advertisement come to life.

Yes, Keith decided as his cock grew fat and heavy in the tight confines of his jeans, that was most definitely the reason why. Especially if tie ant those chiseled cheeks would be flushed a rosy red as sweat ran down his perfectly sculpted face. Or if those beautiful steel grey eyes would shine with untamed desire instead of their usual kindness and worry. Or if those deliciously plump lips would only say his name instead of-wait, no, that’s not the fantasy, Shiro is actually trying to ask him something.

Keith snapped back to attention, shaking his head free of the increasingly dirty thoughts, “Sorry, what was that? Kinda…spaced out there.”

Shiro’s lips pursed as he looked Keith over, eyebrows furrowing together, “Maybe we shouldn’t do this. You’ve been under a lot of stress lately and this isn’t exactly going to be a walk in the park.”

Keith watched in horror as Shiro’s hands moved behind his back in preparation of untying the bow. Before he realized what he was doing he had already grasped Shiro’s wrist and yanked it away. Shiro eyebrows were almost in his hairline with how high they were raised; quickly Keith removed his hands, palms facing Shiro in a placating gesture.

“No! No, I’m totally fine. We’re going to do this, and you’re going to keep wearing that apron.”

Mentally Keith slapped himself for the addition of the apron comment. Not only was it totally unnecessary, but it was as transparent as Lance trying to get in a girl’s good graces. Shiro gave him a once-over; finding nothing noticeably wrong he shrugged, taking the bowl out of Keith’s hands and placing it on the counter. Keith made a mental note to handwrite a lovely thank-you note to whatever deity was watching over him in that moment.

“I was trying to ask how we should start this,” Shiro began, ignorant of the inner workings of Keith’s mind. He pulled out measuring cups of varying sizes, each having lingering remnants of the previous attempt in them. “When I did it I just put everything in the bowl and just mixed it together. But seeing how that didn’t turn out so well, I was wondering if you had a different idea how we should start this.”

Keith glanced down at the recipe, eyebrow raised, “Well there’s your first problem; it says to mix the dry and wet ingredients separately first.”

Shiro paused as he turned to look at Keith, his head tilted in that adorably confused way that always reminded Keith of a puppy, “But Hunk wrote that it was a one bowl recipe at the top.”

“Yeah but underneath that is a little note saying that it’s actually going to take two bowls,” Keith held out the piece of paper for Shiro to look. Shiro squinted as he struggled to make out the cramped handwriting beneath the large writing for the recipe. Realization dawned alongside a cherry pink flush as he finally comprehended the writing underneath.

“I cannot believe…” Shiro grumbled, scrubbing his face; he sighed, giving a tired smile. “You take wet and I take dry?”

Keith nodded, opening the cabinet to his left and pulling a medium sized bowl from the shelf. Briefly he was thankful that all of their frequently used cooking utensils were within his reach instead of Shiro’s. He could only imagine what it would feel like to have Shiro pressed against his back, the muscles of his torso taut as he reached upwards to procure the bowl. He wondered if he’d be able to feel those dark brown nipples pebbling against his back, the faint friction through too-thin clothing lewdly stretched across them more than enough to turn them to stone. Or perhaps they’d already be peaked, serving as his only warning before Shiro grabs his hips to pill his flush against his crotch in a slow dirty grind. He shivered, feeling Shiro’s hot breath as he mouthed up his neck before nosing under his ear. He spoke, voice a seductive whisper, about how he was going to fuck Keith on that counter and how the only assistance he’d get to his dick would be when it knocked against the drawers from the force of Shiro’s thrusts. Keith leaned his head back against the broad shoulder behind him, knuckles turning white from his grip on the counter, and rolled his hips back to further entice-

A startled yelp preceding a flurry of dusty white was enough to snap Keith out of the fantasy. He turned to see Shiro staring at the flour bag with a mix of betrayal and surprise, the white text of the apron hidden beneath a layer of flour. Shiro lifted his gaze to Keith, a slight pout already forming.

“All I did was open the bag…” Keith couldn’t help the chuckle he gave at the petulant almost whine that was Shiro’s voice; leave it to Shiro to make a mess. He grabbed the one-third measuring cup lying in front of him and held it over the bowl as he carefully poured the vegetable oil, making sure to avoid spilling any excess oil on the countertop or himself. He should be able to avoid at least spilling it on himself, Keith thought as he reached for the milk, but if cooking with Shiro had taught him anything it was that absolutely any situation was possible. Although if Shiro managed to spill oil on himself it wouldn’t be the worst occurrence in their kitchen, especially if it somehow managed to soak through that tight shirt. Keith could see it now; Shiro would curse, ripping the top half of the apron off to reveal a gradually growing dark stain. He’d pull his shirt off in record time, revealing a six pack achieved from countless hours in the gym. But the real star would be those bulging pectorals, glistening with a slight sheen from the oil having soaked through the shirt, and the biceps as they tossed the shirt out of the kitchen. Shiro would look over at him, lips formed in a perfect pout at the mess he had made. Keith would drop whatever he was doing to go over and let him know it was alright that he made a mess; oh yes, he thought as he massaged the oil into his skin, it was more than alright, appreciated even. In fact, it was so appreciated that Keith crowded Shiro into the counter to show him just how appreciative he was.

“Keith…” That’s right, beg for it, “Keith, the milk!”

Keith looked down, still caught in the throes of his poorly scripted personal porno, to see that the milk had overflowed the one-third cup and was currently splashing into the bowl. He jerked his hand back, milk splashing onto his shirt and the counter, and poured the one-third cup into the bowl. Judging by appearances it roughly looked as if there was one-half cup of milk in there instead of the previous one-third. Luckily Hunk’s recipe gave a good margin for error, saying anywhere between was acceptable; in that moment Keith decided that Hunk was a saving grace whether the baker knew it or not.

“I’m fine, I’m fine,” Keith waved his hand, grabbing an egg from the carton. “Just…thought I’d try a little something different, you know? Go a little off script.”

Shiro smiled, giving his face that soft fond look Keith had fallen in love with as he watched the egg crack perfectly, “Going off script was how I got the first batch babe.”

Keith returned the smile, reaching for the teaspoon set and the vanilla extract, “True, but even following the script has never helped you much. I mean remember the iron compound lab?”

“To this day I’m still baffled,” Shiro replied, whisking the dry ingredients together, “I followed it to the letter, it turned out green, and then the second part of the lab says there wasn’t any iron in it. How the hell can it have no iron when it’s green?”

“Not sure, but the look on the TA and professor’s faces was priceless,” Keith began whisking the liquids together, becoming foamy and a pale yellowish brown. Once he deemed it mixed enough Keith began pouring the mixture into the dry ingredient bowl as Shiro continued to work. He watched as the pile of white flour and baking powder gradually turned the same color as the liquid mixture, already resembling muffins more than Shiro’s first attempt. The batter even appeared to have a more even consistency, the entire bowl being a little thicker than cake batter but far below the pizza dough-like mess that he had to scrape out when preparing it for this batch. Based solely on its appearance it would be easy to scoop into the pan just as Hunk had described it would be; as Shiro began to fold in the blueberries a part of Keith’s mind whispered just how spreadable it looked as well. He couldn’t help but agree, imaging just how easily it would slide over Shiro’s skin if his boyfriend grabbed a handful and allowed it to drip down his body. How that batter would dribble down the hard planes of his torso, gathering in the crevices as the blueberries sporadically stained the skin purple in a mockery of the hickeys Keith wanted to leave all over that alabaster skin. It was almost as much of a tease as Shiro running a finger through the mess, the clean trail disappearing as soon as it appeared, to gather a thick dollop on the pad of his index finger that he then offered to Keith.

Fine, Keith thought as he grabbed Shiro’s wrist, two could play at the tease game. His eyes slid shut as he guided Shiro’s hand to slip the digit into his warm wet cavern. He hummed as he teasingly swirled his tongue around the finger, lapping up the batter that dripped from the edges. It was sweet with the blueberries just adding the barest hint of tart to keep it from nauseating; Keith made sure to hollow his cheeks and suck to swallow the last drop. Always one to be thorough Keith bobbed his head, tongue swiping up and down in search of any leftover batter and making sure Shiro’s finger came out cleaner than it had entered. It wasn’t his fault if, while watching enraptured, Shiro was reminded of how Keith knew to suck his cock just right to get every last drop cum and then coax back to full hardness. And if it just so happened that it did remind Shiro of such activities and resulted in Keith being bent over the table, then so be it. These were Keith’s thoughts as he slowly pulled off the digit, hooking it in his mouth so that it released with an audible pop. He looked up at Shiro under half-lidded eyes, cheeks flushed, only to feel his face burn with something other than arousal as he came to his senses. Standing in front of him wasn’t a Shiro with his top off, bathed in slick batter and oil, but rather his Shiro whose top was still very much intact and whose face was flushed a brilliant red to the tips of his ears as he stared down at his boyfriend having imitated a blowjob on his previously battered finger.

If the Earth could just swallow him whole to save him from impending embarrassment in that moment, it’d be greatly appreciated.

“W-Well, that tastes great,” Keith barely manages to squeak the sentence out before he’s pushing past Shiro to grab the bowl and a scoop. With a speed rivaling Hunk’s but with not nearly as much finesse Keith begins pouring the batter into the pan, smudges landing around the rim of each liner. “Should really get these in the oven, not a good idea to let them sit out for long.”

The acknowledgement to his panicked rambling is Shiro coming up behind him, strong arms wrapping around his waist; for a moment his word vomit ceases alongside his breathing as Shiro nuzzles his neck. It returns with a vengeance though when one of his hands moves downwards, cupping his embarrassingly hard cock through his jeans. While Keith successfully holds back the whimper, he’s helpless to stop his hips from bucking into the touch.

“P-Plus the…y-you know, the oven being on for so long…ngh…i-it’s a fire hazard,” he was impressed that he was able to form a coherent thought, especially with how Shiro was nipping at his earlobe. He was less impressed with the whine that was dragged from his throat with a mere grinding of Shiro’s hips into his ass as he bent to put the pan in the oven. No sooner had he straightened up, Shiro was turning him around; before he could gather his bearings Shiro sealed their mouths together, hands pulling hips to be flush against his. The gasp Keith emits is the opening Shiro needs to slip his tongue into his mouth, chasing the taste of raw blueberry batter mixed with the always favorite flavor of his boyfriend. It takes only a second for Keith to get control over himself again, but as soon as he’s back online he’s raking his fingers through Shiro’s hair as he enthusiastically returns the kiss. Together their tongues dance a well-rehearsed sensual choreography, pushing and pulling against each other in a mimicry of how their bodies moved when thrusting against each other. When they pulled apart Shiro wasted no time diving down to kiss and suck at Keith’s neck, leaving a trail of red splotches in his path; Keith tightened his grip in Shiro’s hair, not caring of the trail of drool that had formed when Shiro pulled away so quickly.

“I thought I was imaging it,” Shiro muttered hotly, “Thought it was just a crease in your jeans. But after that little show you gave me there’s no denying what’s got you so distracted.”

“Sh-Shiro…”

Shiro looked up at him, cupping his cheek with a tenderness that belied the blatant want brewing in his gray eyes, “Tell me what you want babe.”

Keith sucked in a breath, trying to steady himself so that he could finally voice the thoughts that had been plaguing him this entire time, “I…I-I wanna lick you clean…wanna watch you suck my cock in that apron.”

The sultry smile Shiro gave him warmed his stomach less than the gentle kiss he pressed to his forehead after pushing black bangs back, “Of course love, anything you want.”

He pulled back just enough to lift the loop of the apron from around his neck. The black cloth folded at the waist, revealing the tight gray shirt that had taunted Keith throughout their baking adventure. He reached down, tugging the shirt free of the strings keeping the apron tight to his body, allowing a tantalizing glimpse at what was to come. Watching Shiro slowly tug the shirt over his head, muscles flexing with every movement, Keith decided that no matter how steamy his fantasies got nothing could compare to the real thing. Nothing compared to actually feeling the heat radiate off his body like a furnace, or feeling the hard planes of that toned body pressing his smaller one into the stove. Even watching the cotton drag over his skin was better with the knowledge that he’d be touching that body with his hands and tongue soon enough. Keith followed every movement Shiro made, mesmerized with how his body moved; he didn’t miss how he reached over to dip his fingers into the batter bowl, gathering the dregs that failed to make it into the pan into his hand. He met Keith’s gaze and, with a smile and playful wink that had Keith forgetting how to breathe, smeared the batter all over his chest. Keith was helpless against the desire to watch the tan batter spotted with dark purple paint such a subtle contrast to his lover’s chest, the mixture filling every crack and crevice better than he could imagine. Once satisfied with his work Shiro held his hand palm-up in front of Keith, lips quirked in a sultry smile.

“Bon appétit babe.”

Keith wasn’t sure he’d ever moved so quickly as he did in that moment to grab Shiro’s wrist and tug his palm up to his mouth. He inhaled deeply as his eyes slide shut, the sweet scent of blueberry muffins dizzying when mixed with his arousal, before laying his tongue flat on the proffered fingertips. He dragged his tongue through the batter, moaning at how the flavors mixed perfectly with the natural taste of Shiro’s skin. Keith was unsure if he’d ever be able to enjoy a blueberry muffin again if it didn’t have the slight tang so indicative of Shiro’s body mixed into it. Keith tugged him closer, tongue dipping between the spaces of his fingers to collect the mix that had previously escaped him. He mouthed along the skin before engulfing the thick digit, intentionally reminiscent of the nights when he would tease and taunt Shiro before swallowing him almost to the hilt; judging by the deep groan Shiro made at the sight, he was successful. Just like before he imitated Shiro thrusting into his mouth, cheeks hollowed so his lips would provide that delicious suction on every inch as it penetrated his willing cavern. Once it pushed through that tight ring of muscles his tongue welcomed it, caressing and enfolding the finger like a lover returned from a trip abroad. Eventually he began to pull off, the action so agonizingly slow that it would be easy to think being separated was physically painful for him; the notion was only reinforced as he quickly went to work on the other finger, humming in delight at the taste. Keith repeated the drawn out process, making sure to shower each and every digit with the same love and attention as he gave to the first. It was only after he was satisfied that he had thoroughly cleaned and memorized the taste of each digit did he allow his eyes to flutter open to half-mast to stare up at Shiro.

Shiro’s face and upper chest were flushed, pupils blown wide to capture every subtle movement Keith made. His other hand was fisted in front of his mouth; Keith caught a flash of white, a sign that Shiro had been biting into the flesh to ground himself. Keith smirked, flipping Shiro’s arm over to expose the pale and delicate skin of his wrist. He raised his left hand to rest on Shiro’s shoulder and, with the same meticulous attention he had given him to cleaning his hand, began pressing soft close-mouthed kisses up the length of his arm. As he watched desire freely cloud Shiro’s expression he could feel the muscles quivering beneath his lips, usually so strong but rendered as helpless as a newborn lamb when exposed to his touch. Even after all the time they’d been together it always left him in awe how strong, self-assured Shiro was willing to let his guard down, allow him to see the vulnerable parts that he hid from everyone else. This knowledge, paired with the alluring scent of Shiro’s musk mixed with the sweet smell of batter growing stronger the higher he moved up Shiro’s body, emptied his mind of any thought that didn’t pertain to worshipping Shiro.

Dimly Keith realized the angle he was holding his body in order to keep his shirt free of the batter was uncomfortable and, more importantly, keeping him from pressing fully against Shiro’s body. He pulled back just enough to yank the offending cloth over his head, tossing it to the side of the room before pressing himself tightly against Shiro’s torso. He groaned, eyes sliding shut at the feeling of the wet batter sliding over his skin creating a slick friction between their bodies. With his face buried in Shiro’s neck pressing wet kisses along the pale column while he inhaled deeply of Shiro’s unique sex smell that never failed to arouse him, Keith was helpless to stop himself from grinding his groin against Shiro’s; the resounding moan was almost convincing enough to yank the rest of their clothes off and forgo the original plan. But even through the haze his most basic instincts created Keith was determined to follow through this opportunity to indulge in a newly discovered kink. It was with great reluctance that Keith pulled away from the crook of his neck to dip down until he was level with the sight of a pale brown nipple standing proudly erect like an island surrounded by a sticky sweet sea. Mouth watering he dove forward, capturing the pert bud in his mouth to suckle like a babe at its mother’s teat. The breathy gasp preceding a hearty groan from Shiro only succeeded in spurring Keith onward with his goal, tongue swirling around the areola and gathering the batter that stuck there. He pulled off with a slick pop to admire his handiwork; the skin was pink and raised, glistening with the saliva of his mouth. Keith hummed in appreciation at the sight, dipping back down to begin lapping up the rest of the batter on that pectoral in a circular motion.

Once Keith deemed the area sufficiently clean he dragged his tongue through the slick to the other side. He feels Shiro tangle his fingers into his hair, blunt nails scraping against his scalp as he scrambles to ground himself against Keith’s sensual onslaught. Keith smirks, wedging his thigh between Shiro’s legs to give the older man something to grind down on as he circles the nipple, mouth teasingly inching closer to where they both want it to be. In a stroke of what Keith would describe pure generosity he latches onto his target at the same time as he digs his thigh upwards into Shiro’s hard cock; the punched out moan that Shiro releases sends a shiver down his spine. He purrs, content to let Shiro ride his leg and shove his head more into his chest while he laps up the sweet aphrodisiac the two of them accidentally created despite the throbbing arousal begging for attention between his own legs. He is normally not a patient man, either in the bedroom or outside of it, but he knows from experience that with the right amount of coaxing Shiro will abandon any ideas of teasing in order to get to the main event. All he has to do is wait for a sign, the signal that Shiro is at the end of his rope and delirious with desire.

He doesn’t have to wait long when, as soon as he pulls off his chest to inspect his work, Shiro hauls his face upwards to mash their mouths together. Keith moans into the kiss, his arms slinging themselves around Shiro’s neck to press tightly against the glistening muscles of his boyfriend. Somewhere in the back of his mind was a voice chiding him about how all his hard work will be ruined by the batter on his body smearing against Shiro’s recently cleaned one; it was drowned out by a louder voice purring at the way the freshly greased up Shiro grasped his hips to shove him back against the stove. Both were silenced as Keith struggled to remember to breathe when Shiro returned the favor, pushing his muscled thigh between Keith’s to press into the firm bulge that had been present ever since he saw Shiro in that apron. Keith knew that if they continued like this there was a high chance they’d both be cumming in their pants; it wouldn’t be the first time, and certainly wouldn’t be the last if their exhibitionism streak was anything to go by. But through the fog created by his pounding pulse and labored breaths, Keith knew that wasn’t what he really wanted. What he wanted was Shiro on his knees in front of him looking thoroughly debauched with a mouth stuffed so full of cock that when he came, he could watch his seed leak out the corners of his mouth.

Willpower restored by that mental image, he pulled Shiro back by the short hairs at the nape of his neck. The whine that left Shiro was so endearingly arousing that he almost abandoned his previous goal. Keyword being almost; Keith was a man on a mission, and by God he was going to get his dick sucked by his hot boyfriend in that apron if it was the last thing he did. He leaned forward, tongue tracing the shell of his ear, relishing in the full body shudder he elicited from Shiro.

“You know that’s not what I want,” Keith panted, “I said I want you to suck my dick. Think you can be a good little house husband and do that?”

He wasn’t sure where that had come from, but after watching how Shiro practically fell to his knees and began mouthing at the front of his pants he swore he’d retrace his mental steps at a later date; for now, he was content to assist his desperate boyfriend with pulling his achingly hard erection from his jeans. As soon as his swollen tip emerged from the confines of his jeans, Shiro pushed his hands aside to engulf it in his mouth, hands swiftly beginning to work the shaft. Keith groaned at the feeling of Shiro’s mouth suckling on his dick, that had been painfully hard for what felt like eternity, like it was the sweetest popsicle in the world. He fought against the urge to tilt his head back and shut his eyes tight, wanting to watch as Shiro slowly swallowed his cock inch by mind numbingly glorious inch. He carded his fingers lovingly through Shiro’s hair to coax him to sink deeper onto his rod each time he bobbed downwards; Shiro was rewarded with fingers running through his hair yet again when he obeyed.

“Such a good little house husband,” Keith purred, “Takes such good care of me, makes sure I have everything I could ever want. Ngh, let’s me use his bo-ha-ody however I want.”

Shiro whines, sinking to a little over halfway onto his cock; Keith laughed, hand coming down to stroke Shiro’s cheek. He couldn’t stop the jolt of his hips when Shiro leaned into the touch, looking up at him with damp grey eyes. “What, is my little house husband embarrassed? You shouldn’t be. I love how desperately slutty you get for my dick. All those little noises you make…It’s, hngh, i-it’s my favorite thing about you.”

In response Shiro groaned as he bobbed back and forth, the sound vibrating around Keith’s overly sensitized cock. Keith moaned in reply, grip tightening in Shiro’s hair as he succumbed to the need to tilt his head back at the sensation of a tongue dancing along the shaft. His eyes would have slid shut as he panted, had Shiro not decided to go the rest of the way and swallow him down to the base. As it was his eyes flew wide open, mouth hanging open in a gasp as he felt Shiro nuzzle the coarse hairs surrounding his base, throat spasming uncontrollably around the plush tip.

“I take it back; this is my favorite! Love having you choke on my cock, shit,” Keith hisses, hips jerking slightly as his tip retreats from the warm haven of Shiro’s throat. He moaned loudly as Shiro tongued at his slit, lapping up the precome dripping from it like it was the nectar of the gods. “Fuck yes, just like that. God, treat me so fucking good. Shit, Shiro.”

Shiro chose that moment to speed up, cheeks hollowed so that the smooth inside rubbed up against the sides of his cock. Keith shouted a curse, eyes rolling into the back of his head; the sensation so painfully similar to the nights when he would be buried balls deep inside Shiro’s ass, yet so uniquely different in terms of the glorious sounds coming from fucking Shiro’s tight throat, that he knew it wouldn’t take much longer before he was spilling into Shiro’s willing mouth. Already he could feel the tightening low in his gut, the tingling at the base of his spine, the curses falling freely from his lips all signs that he was toeing the edge of the cliff leading to sexual nirvana. He weakly tapped Shiro’s cheek in an attempt to get his attention; he groaned when Shiro looked up, face flushed from exertion and lack of air and tears gathering in the corners of his eyes.

“Guh…gonna cum. You better,” Keith swallowed back a moan, watching as Shiro worked his cock faster than before, “Better swallow every last dro…ah, ha, ah!”

He doubled over, pushing Shiro by the back of the head to swallow more of his pulsing cock, mouth hanging open as he gasped desperately for air. His eyelids fluttered at the feeling, unsure and uncaring if the reason his orgasm was so mind numbingly incredible was because he’d been hard and on edge since he’d stepped foot into the kitchen, or because Shiro was swallowing his cum while his recently spent cock sat in the back of his throat. Either way his release had been so strong that as soon as Shiro pulled off he was sliding to the floor, chest heaving as he leaned heavily into the oven door. Once he was sure that he was still tethered to this plane of existence Keith forced his eyes open and shot a smirk at Shiro.

“Very good,” Keith leaned forward as he pushed Shiro to lying on his back on the floor. He crawled, settling himself comfortably on top of Shiro, arms caging the face of his boyfriend; he gave a slow grind against the bulge in his black pants, drawing out heated moan from the man beneath him. “I think my sweet little house husband has earned himself a treat.”

A half hour after they’d been put into the oven, the now ruined muffins joined their fellow fallen brethren in the trash.