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It’s funny, but never in a million years had Lance expected that he would end up dating Keith Kogane.
Mostly because for so long, he’d taken his attraction to Keith as an insult. Like, he’d expected better taste from himself. Sure, it came as a bit of a surprise when Lance finally realized he was bi, but at least that realization had come with little hints. Had had all these signs pointing toward the obvious answer that — once Lance realized it — he could look back on and think, oh, okay. I see what was happening there.
With Keith, however, he was blindsided.
They were in the same class at the Garrison, and though Lance had never been able to refute the fact that Keith was, in fact, extremely attractive, he’d at least known himself well enough to know that he was attracted to more than just someone’s looks. Their personality played a much bigger part. After all, Lance couldn’t end up with someone who couldn’t spar with him verbally. He couldn’t end up with someone who was boring or didn’t have a sense of humor.
And, more than that, he couldn’t end up with Keith.
Because Keith had made a horrible first impression, okay? Yeah, to this day he might claim that he doesn’t remember it, but Lance hasn’t forgotten.
It’d been their first week at the Garrison, everyone still new and nervous and snapping to attention for the wrong higher-ups, and Lance had been sticking to Hunk like a weed. Not everyone had ended up as close with their roommates as the two of them had, but Lance would never forget how lucky he was to have ended up with someone made of as much Perfect Friend Material as Hunk.
Anyway, everyone was still getting used to the rigorous schedule of things, still barely managing to make their hit-times and getting punished for being late or out of uniform. (On just his second day, Lance had forgotten to tuck his pants into his boots, and he’d had to do push-ups while everyone else had had their uniforms checked, to make sure no one else was out of order.)
But yeah, tensions had been high and despite the general fear and culture shock, everyone had been desperate to make friends. And lunch time was one of the only times they got to themselves during the day. He and Hunk had spied someone sitting alone (spoiler: it was Keith) and approached the table.
And then Keith had taken one look at the two of them, glared, and said, “These seats are taken.”
Sure, okay, yeah — it wasn’t the most dramatic and horrible first impression. But it’d still happened at a stressful time in Lance’s life when tensions were constantly high, and he’d taken that ounce of rudeness and multiplied it by a thousand, because at least when anyone else was being an asshole to him, it was some type of sergeant.
Right then, Lance had thought to himself, well. Fuck that guy in particular, and that had been that. A rivalry was born.
Lance had despised Keith with a passion, and when Keith had been kicked out of the Garrison, he’d even sneaked into the kitchens to steal celebratory pastries for him and Hunk.
(Lance deeply, deeply regretted that now. One day, maybe, he’d tell Keith. And it would be a funny story. And they’d all laugh about it… hopefully.)
Of course, everything changed when the Fire Nation attacked.
Kidding. Although, maybe the Galra really were like the Fire Nation, trying to conquer all of space and destroy every other culture out there.
But for real, things did change when they found themselves no longer on Earth, bound by the strict rules of the Garrison, but living in space in a magic castle-ship. Because they weren’t students, and they weren’t subordinates — they were a team of equals. More importantly, they were heroes. The universe was depending on them.
And Lance could be an asshole when he wanted to be, he knew that. He’d directed many an asshole-ish remark toward Keith in his day. But once a shit-ton of responsibility was resting on their shoulders in particular, he’d gotten his act together.
Mind you, a rivalry as intense as theirs didn’t just disappear in a day (even if Keith liked to claim that the rivalry had been one-sided in the first place.)(He was totally wrong, by the way. Keith needed to get off his high horse for a second and realize that he’d instigated things just as often as Lance.)
Lance managed to tone it down, though. Their rivalry became more of a competition, and without Lance quite noticing it, it started to become less annoying and more… fun. Without Lance’s permission, Keith had quickly become one of the closest friends he’d ever had. Like, to the point where they’d even go to each other with their worries and problems. They’d open up to each other, and it wasn’t awkward or embarrassing but just right.
Keith offered the kind of advice that Lance often needed. Being generally easy-going (to people who weren’t Keith, anyway), he tended to let people walk on him more than he should. Sometimes their alien allies would make off-hand remarks about things that probably weren’t offensive in their cultures but absolutely were to them. And Lance was the type to just let this slide — who knew when they’d even see this particular group or aliens next? And they probably wouldn’t even remember the correction anyway — but Keith was totally against that.
Same with when the not-so-nice remarks came from those a little closer from home, too. Like when Pidge took her joking too far and ended up saying something absolutely scathing, the kind of joke that you laughed at when you were surrounded by friends but thought about a little too intensely when you were alone in bed that night.
Anyway, Keith was totally against that. He was always telling Lance not to take that shit lying down. He was all fire where Lance was lax, and Keith was right — sometimes Lance really did need to stand up for himself.
It worked in the opposite direction, too.
Everyone knew that Keith could have a bit of a short fuse, but he tended to take things the wrong way, snapping in anger before he could really analyze what had been said and realize he hadn’t been insulted in the first place. That’s where Lance came in, able to cool him off, talk him down.
They were great for each other. Great friends. Best friends.
(That’s what Lance had told himself, in what he now affectionately referred to as the denial stage.)
Because after they’d stopped being rivals and had become scarily good friends (scary in the way that no one had trusted it at first, assuming they were planning something together, and then scary in the way that they realized they really could plan things together, and sometimes these plans were twice as reckless and twice as dangerous but they were also twice as successful, so) Lance had realized that there was something off about this feeling of friendship between them.
And Lance had had crushes before, of course. He was a lover, and were he still on Earth and not actively engaged in a universal war, he wouldn’t be a fighter. Except his crushes had always come with a lot of a foresight. The initial oh, they’re cute followed by the they really make me laugh which of course led to I love being around them and always ended up at fuck, I have a really big crush on them.
Keith subverted that natural logic entirely. Because Lance had noticed he was attractive and then he’d hated him. Then he’d slowly started to realize that Keith wasn’t so bad and his dry jokes had seemed less insulting and sarcastic and more impressively funny. And enjoying the time they spent together was surely only so nice because they had once been rivals, so it was like making a new friend, and then fuck, oh fuck, how did I not realize I can’t believe I let it get this bad there’s no way in hell I have a crush on Keith—
So. Yeah. It was a bit of a surprise.
Thankfully, the only reason Keith hadn’t noticed Lance in a perpetual state of panic was because he’d been so wrapped up in his own. By the time the two of them were anywhere near ready to even attempt to discuss their feelings for each other, they were so nervous and bumbling and awkward that it was apparent to everyone else on the team before them.
(That’s why Pidge and Hunk had locked them in a closet together all those months ago. Or, actually, Pidge had later confessed that she’d thought it was just sexual tension, but as he and Keith had escaped from that closet, crawling through the castle’s alarmingly extensive ventilation system, they’d gotten a lot of talking done. And when they’d finally emerged in a dimly lit hallway, on a floor of the castle that neither of them had seen before, with dust decorating Keith’s hair and a grumpy expression on his face, Lance had kissed him. He obviously couldn’t help it, after seeing an image as irresistible as that.)
Dating Keith isn’t anything life-changing, either. It’s the same old Keith, except Lance can kiss him now. He can pull Keith onto his lap and squeeze his face and tell him absolutely seriously, “You make me wish I could paint, because I’d paint a picture of you.”
And Keith would roll his eyes, but he’d do it while blushing, and then he’d kiss Lance just to get him to stop grinning at him like that. Lance knew, because it’d been a hypothesis of his and he’d tested it enough times to prove it. Pidge would be proud of him.
Even now, Lance is occasionally overwhelmed at the thought that he’s dating Keith. It feels like something from a romance novel. (Not that Lance has read all that many of them, but he knows Keith reads them secretly. He’s really bad at hiding his stash — they’re all in the same drawer as his lube.) Or like when one of your friends is dating someone and you think to yourself, how are they so obsessed with them? Except now Lance is the one who’s obsessed, and he can’t believe he’d never seen it so clearly before. Like when you a solve a math problem right for the first time and realize the steps to the solution where that simple the whole time.
“Are you even paying attention?” Keith says, kicking Lance in the ankle and turning to look at him.
“No,” Lance says, smiling guiltily.
“I can’t believe I let you pick the movie,” Keith complains, except his fingers are still playing with Lance’s hand. He’s holding Lance’s right hand in both of his own, and he’s been tracing over the lines on Lance’s palm for the duration of the movie.
“It’s a good movie!” Lance protests, albeit half-heartedly. He’d watched it in bed a couple weeks ago after Keith had fallen asleep. He’d been unable to sleep himself, for no real reason in particular, and he’d propped the data pad against his knees and played the movie on low volume.
He remembers having to fight to hold in his laughter while watching it, not wanting to wake Keith, but thinking back on it, Lance can’t entirely remember whether he was laughing because of the movie or because of how bad the translation was.
“What were you thinking about?” Keith says, still looking up at him. He’s using his pouty eyes, which should honestly be a crime, because Lance from a couple years ago wouldn’t even know that they existed. He’d been so used to Keith glaring at him that the first time he’d seen those eyes, he’d gone weak in the knees.
You, Lance should say. It’s undoubtedly gooey. Just complete and under sap, the kind of lovey-dovey bullshit that Keith pretends to hate but Lance knows he secretly adores, because he’ll lean into Lance just a little bit heavier afterward, or he’ll pretend to rearrange into a comfier position and somehow Lance will find himself with his arm around Keith’s shoulders.
Keith isn’t the type to ask for reassurances, to question Lance’s feelings for him and panic about what it all means in the middle of the night. But Lance likes to stay that kind of stuff. It feels like cementing it, like throwing it out into the universe. Like screaming into space, me and him? We were made for each other.
And, God, sometimes Lance can’t help but think about how easily they could’ve missed each other. He’s not sure whether he believes in fate — although maybe he should, considering all that he’s been through, and how each of them had just happened to be the perfect fit for their lions — but if just one little thing had gone differently, they wouldn’t be here like this, together.
If Keith hadn’t gotten kicked out of the Garrison, they never would’ve discovered the Blue Lion. If he hadn’t refused Lance’s and Hunk’s company that one day, Lance wouldn’t have hated him enough to race into an alien spaceship after him. Hell, if Lance hadn’t persuaded Hunk to sneak out that night, if Pidge hadn’t already been on the roof, if so many little things hadn’t happened — he wouldn’t have Keith. He wouldn’t be in love with him.
They were like two asteroids in the infinite vastness of space, and by some string of luck, they’d managed to be set on a collision course toward each other, instead of ending up lightyears away from one another.
Lance is just so lucky. And he’s so in love, and it feels like this bubble of need and desperation welling up within him, because he wants to tell Keith every little thing he thinks about him, about how much he means to Lance and how Lance would go to the ends of the universe to find him, would take on a hundred thousand Galra soldiers alone, if it meant getting to Keith, and yet he can’t ever seem to put this into words.
And so he says, “You.”
And somehow, that’s enough.
Keith tries to look stern for a second, tries to look unaffected, but then the fondness bleeds into his expression and his mouth melts into a smile and he closes his eyes, grinning this small, shy smile. This explicitly Keith smile.
And, yeah — that does Lance in. He laughs, the sound quiet and light, so unlike the loud and long ones he does in front of an audience, when he’s making a joke and wants everyone to listen.
He sits up, swinging a leg over Keith’s thighs and settling into his lap, his hands interlocked behind Keith’s head. He’s staring down at Keith, determinedly taking in every nuance of his expression, the crinkles by his eyes and the blush on his cheeks, as if he isn’t going to see it again. As if he isn’t going to fall asleep looking at it and wake up already searching for it.
“I’m serious,” Keith says, tilting his head back to look up at Lance. Lance tangles his fingers into Keith’s hair, twisting the strands between them and holding his head in place. Keith doesn’t seem to mind. “I want to know what you were thinking about.”
“Head empty,” Lance says, widening his eyes dramatically. “Only you.”
Keith shoves him, except his fingers twist in Lance’s shirt and pull him right back, even closer than before.
“Fine,” he says. “Keep your secrets.”
Lance gasps. “Was that a meme, Kogane?”
“If it was, it’s only because you guys said it enough that it became ingrained in my head.”
“Good enough for me,” Lance says, grinning.
“You’re really not going to tell me?”
Lance laughs. “I don’t think I could put it into words,” he says. “It’s just that feeling like your heart’s going to burst.”
Keith smiles, and these smiles are so rare — it’s not the smirk that he’ll shoot Lance in public, when they’re teasing each other and joking in front of the others. It’s not that breathless grin of his, when they’re doing something exhilarating or maybe downright crazy, only to exchange a glance and realize they’re wearing matching expressions. It’s this smile that Lance has only ever seen in private, this one that he’s sure belongs just to him, and in that moment, he needs to taste it.
So he leans forward and presses his mouth against Keith’s, his hand twisting in Keith’s hair a little firmer. Keith starts to reciprocate, his lips responding to Lance’s, but Lance just — he needs Keith to understand. He knows he didn’t say it right, knows Keith doesn’t get the extent of it, and he just—
He pulls away. Keith starts to laugh, and he opens his mouth and Lance knows there’s a complaint waiting on his lips so he kisses it away. And then he kisses Keith’s cheek, his temple. His kisses Keith’s eyelid and then that spot right between his eyebrows, and the skin is so soft and smooth and he hears Keith hum underneath him, feels his hands resting on Lance’s hips.
Lance pulls away enough to see Keith’s eyes and they flutter open, this look of questioning in them, but Lance can’t formulate an answer, can’t express it in any way other than the need to kiss every inch of him, for Keith to know that he’s possibly the most important thing that’s ever happened to Lance, and that maybe Lance shouldn’t even be considered a hero, because if he had to choose between Keith and the universe the answer would be far simpler than it should be.
Lance presses a kiss to Keith’s chin, and then he kisses along his jaw, can’t help nipping at his earlobe, before he begins to explore the woefully undermarked skin of his neck. Keith gets hickeys tragically easily. They’d discovered that once when Lance had just barely sucked on his neck, and they’d spent thirty minutes together in Lance’s bathroom the next morning, Keith grumpily holding a cold washcloth to his neck while Lance frantically searched for a concealer anywhere near Keith’s skin tone.
Still, he can’t resist kissing down the slope of Keith’s neck, especially when Keith tilts his head back to give him more room, surrendering to it.
Lance is careful not to kiss too hard where anyone can see it, but when he reaches the collar of Keith’s shirt, he pulls it to the side and starts sucking on the hollow of his throat, determined to mark him.
Keith’s going to blush all pretty when he realizes it’s there in the morning, and when he thinks Lance isn’t looking, he’ll poke it, as if to see if it hurts.
“You’re extra affectionate tonight,” Keith says, laughing, except he’s bad at disguising the breathiness of his voice, and his fingers are digging into Lance’s hips a little harder than usual.
“I just love you so fucking much,” Lance says seriously, leaning away to look at Keith. He tries not to let his eyes dart downward, because he can already tell that that hickey is going to be a bad one. Keith much punch him in the morning. And then he’ll whine when Lance hugs him to his side.
“You know I love you too, right?” Keith says, and Lance almost laughs. How could he not know that? Lance said it first, because his mouth tends to act without his brain’s permission and it’d just slipped out of him one day. He’d flushed and stuttered immediately afterward and Keith had kissed the words out of his mouth, looking exceptionally fond.
And barely a week later, in what Lance thinks might’ve been the most painful night of Keith’s life, he’d managed to say it back. After a lot of anticlimactic buildup and internal panicking on Keith’s part, which was very much not needed, considering Lance had already confessed first.
“Yeah,” Lance says, and he’s smiling so big it has to look goofy, but he doesn’t even care. He just cups Keith’s face in his hands and smushes his cheeks together, because Keith looks so pretty all the time and God dammit, it’s only fair if his face gets a little smushed sometimes. “I know.”
Keith leans forward to kiss him and Lance relents. As much as he loves kissing every part of Keith that he can reach, there really is something to be said about his mouth. It brings him back to their first kiss, when they’d been covered in dust and Lance hadn’t even cared. There’d just been something electric about it, and there still is.
“I want you to fuck me,” Lance says after pulling away. He plants his hands on Keith’s shoulders and looks at him seriously. Keith looks at him just as seriously.
“Are you sure?” he says. “You know I don’t mind waiting until you’re ready.”
“I am ready,” Lance promises.
They sound like a couple of virgins, which really, couldn’t be further from the truth. They’d taken things slow for maybe a week, and then one night, Lance had invited Keith over for a sleepover — totally chaste! — and things had started out innocently, he swears. But then they’d been in their pajamas and Keith had looked so cute and soft and he’d been the one to make the first move, anyway, so Lance takes no blame.
But unlike Lance, Keith had actually bottomed before, on Earth. Lance had known about his attraction to guys for a good while before being yeeted into space, but he’d never had the chance to really act on it other than a few drunken kisses at parties before he’d gone off to the Garrison.
Understandably, Lance has been pretty nervous about the aspect of bottoming. He knows Keith enjoys it, and he isn’t trying to derive Keith the pleasure of topping — Keith has already revealed that he very much likes it both ways — but he’d had no problem waiting for Lance to get over his nerves.
And he still is nervous. A little bit. Except he thinks maybe that there’s no better way to get as close to Keith as possible. The thought of having Keith inside him, of giving him this first and trusting him so openly to take care of him, greatly overpowers his fear of whether it might hurt.
He’s never felt more ready than he does right now.
“As long as you’re sure,” Keith says, his hand stroking over Lance’s side. “If you don’t like it, we can stop.”
“Wow, I caught me a gentleman,” Lance says, leering, because the tension between them — more embarrassingly in love than sexual, right now — is thick enough to cut. So cut it, Lance does.
Keith narrows his eyes at him. “Was that a cowboy joke?” he says suspiciously. He knows Lance too well. Lance loves to tease him, and Keith loves to pretend that he isn’t a cowboy.
“More like a fishing joke,” Lance relents. “Otherwise I would’ve said yeehaw, I lasso’d me a darn tootin’ gentleman!”
Keith scoffs, shoving Lance to the side, albeit still tellingly gently, and he rolls off the bed to grab the lube from Lance’s bathroom.
“Take off your pants,” Keith calls as the bathroom light flickers on. Not one to ignore an obviously good idea, Lance shimmies out of both his pants and underwear, tossing them onto the ground just as Keith re-emerges from the bathroom, holding the bottle of lube.
He scoots back onto the bed, exactly where he was sitting before, and looks at Lance expectantly. Lance can’t help grinning as he clambers back onto Keith’s lap, pressing a chaste kiss to his mouth.
“Have you ever fingered yourself before?” Keith asks, glancing at Lance as he pours the lube into his hand. With any other person, Lance would probably want to shrivel up in embarrassment. With Keith, Lance doesn’t know if there’s anything he could feel embarrassed about.
“No,” Lance admits. “When I first realized I liked dudes, I was like, ‘fine, whatever, but I’m not putting stuff up my butt.’”
Keith snorts.
“I know,” Lance says, rolling his eyes. “But after I got over that little spat of internalized homophobia, I’d already freaked myself out about it enough. I know it must feel good — I mean, I can see what it does to you—" Keith blushes, and Lance silently tallies that as another win for Lance “—but I haven’t been able to bring myself to do it yet.”
“That’s fine,” Keith says, rubbing the lube on his fingers now, warming it up. “At first, it’s not gonna feel like much,” he warns. “Just like a kind of weird intrusion that’s happening, maybe a bit of a stretch.”
“Right.”
“I’ll use one finger for a bit, just to get you used to it, and then we’ll go to two fingers, then three. It’ll feel like more of a stretch each time, and it might hurt a little bit at first, but you’ll just have to relax and it’ll feel good again.”
“Okay.”
“And let me know when I hit your prostate.”
“Right. How will I know?”
Keith smirks at him. “Trust me, you’ll know.”
With that, he rearranges Lance a little. Has him scoot closer on his knees and lean forward a bit. His hand sneaks between Lance’s legs and Lance feels the wet press of his fingers against his asshole.
“Breathe in,” Keith murmurs, and Lance obeys, and then Keith’s finger presses into him, slow and careful and a lot less scary-feeling than he’d imagined.
“Okay,” Lance says. “That isn’t so bad.”
“It’ll feel better, soon,” Keith promises, and he starts moving his hand, pressing his finger in and out of Lance. It’s definitely a foreign feeling, not too bad but not too good, either. Definitely nothing to write home about.
Keith’s free hand twines into Lance’s hair, playing with the strands, and Lance leans farther forward. He tugs the collar of Keith’s shirt down again and starts sucking on the opposite side of his neck, wanting to make Keith feel good, too.
Keith’s hand twists as he pulls out, this time all the way, and when he comes back in, it’s with two fingers. Lance sucks in a breath, just resting his forehead on Keith’s shoulder now, and Keith smooths his hair comfortingly.
“Hurts?” Keith asks, his voice sounding deeper than usual. Despite it not feeling like all that much for Lance, yet, Keith is clearly affected. He likes doing this to Lance, Lance realizes. Likes being able to be the one in charge, likes being the one that can take Lance apart, piece by piece.
“No,” Lance murmurs. “Just… different.”
Keith hums, his hand sliding from Lance’s hair and down his back, only to wrap around his waist and pull Lance him against Keith. He thrusts his fingers in, and this time he doesn’t pull out. He scissors them, and Lance can feel the stretch, the pressure inside of him, and he’s pretty sure it’s more good than bad, now, pretty sure he can almost see the appeal.
But then Keith stops scissoring his fingers. He doesn’t pull them out, either, he just presses them firmly inside of Lance, twisting his hand just slightly, the angle changing a little bit every time. There’s really nothing special about it until he moves his hand just so, strokes with his fingers just a little bit differently, and Lance jolts against his body, jumping away from the touch in surprise only to immediately press back into it, wanting more.
“Shit!” he gasps, feeling himself begin to sweat, and he huffs out a breath. “Do that again.”
“Told you,” Keith says cockily, and then he does do that again, and Lance — holy fuck, Lance was missing out.
He slumps against Keith entirely, his mind struggling to comprehend much of anything when everything feels this new, this good.
“Fuck,” Lance gasps, and he’s rocking back on Keith’s fingers but he can’t help it, can’t stop it. “Why didn’t you— shit, why didn’t you tell me it felt this good?”
Keith laughs, and his fingers press up and start rubbing on Lance’s prostate, unrelenting, and Lance swears his eyes roll into the back of his head.
“Didn’t want you to feel like I was pressuring you,” Keith says honestly. “But now you know.”
“Never stop t-touching me,” Lance demands. “Gonna h-have to fight the Galra like this. They’ll be so alarmed.”
Keith snorts and finally pulls his fingers out again, letting Lance catch his breath. He’s trembling just slightly, a little bit overwhelmed and almost completely sure that he could come just like that, given the chance.
“I think I’m ready,” Lance says. “I think you should fuck me.”
“I think you should leave it to the expert,” Keith says, and Lance sits back far enough to look Keith in the face.
“Rude,” he says. “I always fuck you when you get impatient about it.”
Keith grins. “That’s because you can’t say no to me,” he says, which is 100% true and something that Lance had hoped he hadn’t caught onto, what the fuck.
“I’m breaking up with you,” Lance jokes. “Love terminated. Boyfriends who don’t fuck me don’t get rights.”
Keith thrusts his fingers back into Lance and Lance moans, his head tilting back as he struggles to remember how to breathe. And when he regains his composure, remembering that — right, Keith is right here, he’s an active participant in this arrangement — he finds Keith staring at him, looking far too amused with himself.
“Fine,” Lance says, planting a hand on Keith’s chest now, struggling to balance. His thighs are starting to shake, but he’s pretty sure that’s just because Keith’s fingers are inside him and there should be more of them there. “Come on, expert, do your thing.”
It’s as if Keith was waiting for Lance to say just that, because he pulls his fingers out and Lance finds himself clenching around the loss before Keith thrusts into him again, slowly once more, and this time with three fingers.
“Fuck,” Lance groans. Now that he knows what’s coming, the burn of the stretch feels good, and he wants it more, wants it faster. Keith is going teasingly slow, and even though Lance feels desperate, even though he wants so badly it hurts, when he looks at Keith through his eyelashes all he feels is this unbridled love.
Because Keith is looking at him so reverently, and he’s touching him so carefully, and his chest is moving quickly with his breaths but even though he’s obviously turned on, he’s being so careful. He’s so blatant in his desire to make this good for Lance, to keep it slow and steady and make sure he doesn’t hurt him, not even for a second, and fuck.
The way he feels for Keith is overwhelming. It feels impossible and almost alarming in its intensity, but Lance wouldn’t have it any other way. He’s in a spaceship millions of lightyears from home and every day of his life he walks into danger, knowing he might not see the next one, but with Keith at his side he’s never felt safer.
“Keith,” Lance says, his voice becoming desperate. Because now that Keith’s found his prostate, he doesn’t seem likely to forget it, and his fingers hit home with every single thrust and it’s driving Lance insane in the best way, the muscles in his stomach jerking in pleasure, his cock hard and switching just the same. “Babe. Sweetheart. I think I’m— think you might—” he breaks off, sucking in a breath, because holy shit, Keith is relentless. “Think y’should maybe rethink that fucking me thing.”
“I haven’t stopped thinking about it,” Keith promises. “But I’m doing this right. I’m going to take care of you.”
Lance moans, thinking that maybe Keith is more devious than he looks, maybe he just wants to tease Lance all night, but he’s never been the best at hiding what he’s thinking, and his expression is just pure concentration. Lance doesn’t think he’s doing anything other than telling the truth.
“You’re killing me, babe,” Lance laughs, and Keith pulls his fingers out of Lance, suddenly.
“Lie down,” he says, already pushing Lance up, already maneuvering him down the bed. Their heads are on the wrong side but Lance can’t find it in himself to care, not if Keith’s finally going to fuck him.
But Keith just lays down beside him, his hand sliding back between Lance’s legs, his fingers slipping inside of him. Lance spreads his legs wider, tilting his head back as he groans, his hand finding Keith’s hip. He almost can’t believe Keith’s still wearing all these clothes. It seems impossible, that he’s fully dressed and Lance is on the far side of being wrecked.
Lance peels his eyes open, thinking maybe he can hit Keith with his own pair of puppy dog eyes — maybe Keith will succumb to them as easily as Lance always does to Keith’s — but he finds Keith just staring at him. He pupils are blown, his eyes flickering over Lance’s face, taking in his every expression. He’s eating it up, analyzing every little thing he’s doing to Lance, correcting the projection of his fingers before Lance can even say anything because he’s watching him so intently.
Just like that, Lance loses the will to complain. He can be patient. He can be yielding. He turns his head to the side, his eyes closed once more, and Keith meets his searching mouth before Lance can utter a sound, meeting him halfway and kissing him deeply, slowly.
The movement of his fingers matches the kiss and it drives Lance insane. And when he pulls away Lance follows, his eyes fluttering open as he tries to continue the kiss.
“Come back,” he says petulantly.
“Wanna eat you out,” Keith grunts, his eyes dark.
Lance almost chokes on his spit. He’s pretty sure he clenches down on Keith’s fingers.
“All right, you can’t just say that and not act on it. Hope you’re well aware,” Lance says, his eyebrows raised challengingly, and Keith kisses him once more on the mouth before climbing over him, his fingers slipping out of Lance.
He’s a bastard — a bastard who Lance loves very much — because he takes his damn time. It’s like he got inspiration from Lance, because he kisses him everywhere. His forehead, his mouth, his chin. He sucks on the lobe of Lance’s ear and trails hot, wet kisses down his neck, making goosebumps erupt over Lance’s skin as he shivers in pleasure.
Keith dips his tongue into Lance’s clavicle, flicks it over Lance’s nipples, and nips at his hipbones. He very rudely ignores Lance’s cock, dragging his tongue over the skin where Lance’s thigh and hips meet, and then he’s spreading Lance’s thighs with his hands, his fingers digging into the skin as his hot breath spills over Lance’s asshole.
Lance stares hard at the ceiling, silently retracted his internal statement from earlier — maybe there are some things he’ll still get embarrassed about — and then Keith’s pressing Lance’s thighs to his chest. The next moment, he licks a hot stripe over Lance’s asshole.
“OhmyGod,” Lance blurts, gripping his own knees to hold them in place as Keith goes to town. Lance instantly regrets having yet to do this to Keith, because it’s what he deserves, and if all’s right in the world, it’s what he’s going to wake up to tomorrow morning, thank you very much. “I’m gonna die.”
Somehow, Keith manages to chuckle, and Lance just lays there and takes it. It’s possibly the best thing that’s ever happened to him, and he honest to God forgets how to breathe for a few seconds when Keith presses his tongue inside of him.
He works a finger in, too, and Lance is trembling, pretty sure that he’s bruising himself with how hard he’s holding his legs, but he doesn’t care. He’s grinding against Keith’s face, which should feel obscene, but he can’t help it and Keith doesn’t seem to mind, besides.
When Keith comes up, peeking over Lance’s knees, his chin is covered in saliva and he’s grinning like a lunatic. Lance is desperately in love with this man.
“You should hear the noises you’re making,” Keith says, and his voice sounds gravelly. He wipes the back of his hand against his mouth and that shouldn’t be so hot but it is.
“Babe,” Lance says. “Honey, love of my life—”
Keith rolls his eyes. The first time Lance had called him babe, he’d snorted and said he wasn’t one for terms of endearment. But he was a shit liar so Lance saw right through him, and now he reveled in the use of them.
“Yeah, Lance?”
“I mean this in the best way possible, but if you don’t get inside me right now I’m literally going to die. You’re gonna be fucking a cor—”
“Do not finish that sentence,” Keith says, frowning. “Gross.” Despite the sentiment, he pulls off his pants and underwear, throwing them onto the floor.
“Wow,” Lance jokes. “You saying you wouldn’t love me if I were dead?”
“I wouldn’t fuck you,” Keith says, sounding completely serious.
“What if I were a ghost, Keith?”
“Lance.”
“What if I were a vampire?” Lance presses. “You wouldn’t fuck me if I were a vampire?”
“Irrelevant.”
“Doubt it,” Lance says. “There are so many weird aliens, dude.” Lance laughs when Keith rolls his eyes, spreading Lance’s legs and scooting between them, letting them fall on either side of his waist. “Babe, c’mon — you wouldn’t fuck a vampire?”
“Obviously, I would fuck you if you were a vampire.”
Lance frowns. “Not the question,” he says. “This conversation has moved into a new territory. I’m gonna need to know if my boyfriend would fuck a vampire before I let you fuck me,” he says seriously.
Keith grabs the lube, squirting some more onto his hand. “Is this, like, Dracula? Or Edward Cullen?”
“You can’t fuck me if your answer is Dracula,” Lance says immediately. He presses his knees into Keith’s sides, as if to keep him there.
“Then I choose Edward Cullen,” Keith says. “Even though those books were horribly written.”
Lance’s mouth drops open. Not because he has some sense of loyalty toward those books, but because Keith had read them. He giggles.
“You read the Twilight series?”
Keith glowers at him, stroking his cock now. “They were big at the time.”
“Right,” Lance says. “And you read them.”
“I’m going to fuck you now, if that’s all right with you,” Keith says abruptly, and Lance still feels giggly, still feels light and amused and happy, but he hasn’t forgotten about his arousal, either, even if he has managed to stave off his orgasm.
“Not everyone gets boys as gentlemanly as mine,” Lance sighs, patting Keith’s hand where it rests on his hip. Keith grabs his hand and brings it up to his mouth, kissing it.
“It might hurt a bit, at first,” Keith tells him. “It’ll be more of a stretch than my fingers.”
“Okay,” Lance says, biting down on his smile. Because Keith is way too cute. Way too considerate and sweet and he seems so hard and broody on the outside and Lance wishes Lance from the Garrison could see them right now. Could see himself, open and waiting for Keith, who’s staring down at him like he’s a piece of art.
“Tell me if you need me to stop or slow down,” Keith adds.
“Sure thing, worry-wart,” Lance teases.
“I liked sweetheart better,” Keith grumbles, and Lance definitely heard that — he makes a mental note to tease Keith for it later — and then Keith’s pressing against him.
Lance can already tell that his cock’s going to be bigger, but he’s not all that worried. If the pay-off is as good as the one from his fingers, then it’ll be worth it. And considering how long and how meticulously Keith prepped him, Lance figures it won’t hurt all that much anyway.
Keith holds himself steady, his free hand on Lance’s hip, and he presses into Lance, the stretch burning in a good way. Lance sucks in a breath, holding it as Keith continues to slide into him, the deepest look of concentration on his face.
When he’s finally all the way in, finally settled inside of Lance, he lets out a breath, looking up at him.
“Good?” he asks, his voice wobbling the barest amount.
Lance nods. “Maybe wait a sec.”
Keith immediately complies, his hands stroking Lance’s thighs, his hips, his stomach. His right hand finds Lance’s cock and it strokes it a couple times, almost teasingly, and Lance shudders around him, squeezing experimentally.
Keith groans, his eyes sliding shut as he squeezes Lance’s thigh.
“You feel so good,” he tells him. “I fit inside you so perfectly.”
“I’m ready,” Lance tells him. He expects Keith to stay like that, to hold Lance’s hips and balance on his knees and fuck into him. But instead he interlocks their fingers and leans over his body, keeping Lance’s hands prisoner. Keith’s arms are caging Lance’s head, his fingers squeezing Lance’s, and his face is right about him. His hair is hanging around his face, framing it beautifully, and if Lance’s hands weren’t trapped he’d reach up and brush a stray lock out of his eyes.
“I love you,” Keith tells him, and Lance smiles. Keith’s definitely more reserved with saying it. He usually says it quietly. Like it’s a secret, something sacred and special between them. Sometimes he’ll murmur it as he’s drifting off to sleep, or after they’ve fought in battle and he’s caught Lance up in his arms. Like it’s something cherished that can’t be wasted on the mundane, but he’s opening up more and more, saying it easier every time, and this time he said it first.
“I love you, too,” Lance says, and then slowly, carefully, Keith rolls his hips.
The movement is completely controlled. He’s staring down at Lance intently, and it’s obvious that he’s savoring this moment, that he doesn’t want it to end.
Lance realizes that he doesn’t want it to end, either. He’s hard and aching, has been brought so close to the precipice already tonight, but he would go for hours and hours longer if it meant that he could stay this close to Keith, this connected to him.
His breath catches in his lungs as Keith thrusts into him, the movement brushing past his prostate, and then Keith stays at that angle, so determined to make this good for Lance.
It’s dramatic, the way it happens. Because one moment he’s lying there, staring up at Keith and loving him with his whole heart, and the next moment his mind is whirling, sifting through thoughts and memories at breakneck speed, like it so often does.
This feeling, this moment, this love — it’s not something that Lance had expected for himself.
Because he’d realized he was bi, and he’d been young and not entirely educated about the subject and he hadn’t liked the realization at all. He’d reasoned that he still liked girls and that he would still end up with one, sexuality be damned.
And then he went to the Garrison, and Keith was so pretty that for a moment there, Lance couldn’t catch his breath. For a moment there, he forgot about his own prejudices and the guilty, drunken kisses he’d shared with boys in the past and imagined what it might be like to kiss this boy, and not in shadows with the taste of cheap alcohol on his lips but in the light of day.
And then Keith had been not-really-that-much-of-an-asshole and Lance had amped up their rivalry times ten, because Keith was a jerk, and he wasn’t even that cute anyway, and that’s what Lance got for thinking about kissing him in the first place.
And then he was in Keith’s cabin, and then they were in the cockpit of the Blue Lion, and then they were in space, and they’d be there for years, and suddenly it didn’t matter that Lance had wanted to end up with a girl because it was unlikely that he’d end up with anyone at all. He’d probably die before he got the chance.
And then Keith happened. As in, Lance’s barriers and feelings turned to mush and he couldn’t deny it any longer. And then Keith happened, as in Keith wasn’t so much an asshole but guarded and introverted and it turned out he liked Lance, too. And then Keith happened, as in they were kissing in a dark hallway with cobwebs in their hair and Lance couldn’t believe he’d ever thought that anything that felt so right could be so wrong.
And now Keith was in love with him. Keith was inside him. Keith was fucking him so tenderly, so sweetly, and once upon a time Lance never would’ve allowed himself to be in this position, and it took him a while to get here but he’s so glad he did, and he’s so glad he got here with Keith.
The intensity of it all — it overwhelms him. It feels so good, and he loves Keith so much, and embarrassingly, tears well in his eyes, sliding down his cheeks as he bounces gently against the sheets, Keith still fucking him so softly.
But Keith notices, because of course he notices, and he stops immediately.
“Lance?” he says, and his tone isn’t so much tinged with worry but exploding with it. “Are you okay? Did I hurt you? I’ll pull out—"
“Don’t,” Lance says, gripping his hands tighter and smiling up at Keith. He’d wipe his tears away if he could. The fact that he’s laying here, crying while Keith fucks him, makes him start to laugh. “I’m sorry, I’m just — it feels really good. And I’m kind of emotional. I’m, like, scary in love with you.”
Keith’s mouth twitches before pulling up into a smile. “You’re sure you want to keep going?” he says quietly. “Because we can stop. I won’t mind.”
“I will,” Lance insists. “I’m just feeling kind of really grateful that you’re my boyfriend. That we ended up in space together. That we fell in love.”
“I think you just put it into words,” Keith says, and he disentangles his hand from Lance’s, reaching up to brush away his tears. Keith is probably gonna tease him about this, later. Not tonight, but in a couple days, when it isn’t so fresh.
Lance doesn’t mind. He’d totally tease Keith, too.
And then Keith starts moving again. Lance decides that he might actually explode, because he’s still going horribly slowly, like he’s afraid Lance might break. And Lance is going to combust, or maybe die, and then Keith will have a real problem on his hands.
“You don’t have to be so careful,” Lance murmurs, his words wavering. Despite the slow pace, he’s still absolutely wrecked. He’s been building up to this for so long, and Keith’s taken him apart so slowly, he doesn’t see how he couldn’t be. “I’m not going to break.”
“Oh, I know,” Keith says. And now he’s smiling a little bit, but not in that I’m so in love with you and it’s surprising even to me way. No, it’s more like I’m being a little bit devious right now, and you didn’t even notice.
“Keith,” Lance whines, trying to move his hips, trying to entice Keith to go faster. Keith just goes slower. Except despite the pace, he’s still fucking into Lance hard, and so deep, and Lance realizes what he’s been doing. He’s not going to speed up. He’s going to fuck Lance like this, and he’s going to watch Lance fall apart like this, cumming on his cock and trying desperately to catch his breath as Keith fucks him so languidly, so easily.
“It’ll be good like this,” Keith says. “I promise.”
And he’s been right about everything else so far, there’s no denying that, but that doesn’t change the fact that Lance’s nerves are buzzing under his skin. That he might actually die via delayed orgasm, which could definitely be a kickass thing to have on his gravestone, but Lance was kind of gunning for savior of the universe, these days.
It seems the more desperate Lance becomes, the slower Keith moves. He has more willpower than Lance ever would’ve guessed, especially considering how he is when Lance tops. Keith becomes all whiney, all desperate. He’ll beg, his fingers scrabbling against Lance’s skin as he bucks his hips, pleading with him to go faster, harder, please, Lance, now—
And, wow, did Lance mention his boyfriend’s a bastard?
Lance is totally going to do this to him next time, just so he can suffer the same way.
It’s embarrassing because the pace is so slow and yet Lance is moaning so loud. He’s so close, almost there, and Keith is keeping it from him, taunting him with short, pleasurable bursts against his prostate followed by the slowest grind out of him.
At least Keith looks wrecked, too. His hair’s a sweaty mess, sticking to his temples, and he’s breathing just as heavily as Lance, if not releasing the same punched out moans every time he hits home.
“’M close,” Lance warns him, squeezing his hands tightly. “I’m so close, babe, I just — I need—”
“You’ll get there,” Keith says, changing nothing, and Lance outright whines, arching his hips and hoping for pressure on his cock, for something more to push him over the edge, but he meets empty air.
Keith’s pace is steady, determined, and it’s bringing Lance to the edge, bringing him closer inch by inch until Lance is hanging there, so ready, so willing, so desperate.
“Keith,” he sobs, and Keith slams home, fucking into him hard. In just two strokes, Lance comes apart underneath him, shaking and moaning as his orgasm overwhelms him, hitting him harder than it ever has before. He can feel himself clenching around Keith, who’s still fucking him, groaning as he cums inside of Lance.
His pace slows down considerably, and then he’s just fucking into Lance shallowly, as if he can’t bring himself to stop. It’s not so torturous anymore, but Lance is overwhelmingly sensitive, and he shivers every time Keith brushes over his prostate, his eyes wide with wonder as he stares down at Lance.
“You…” Lance says, staring up at his boyfriend. Keith looks unapologetic. “You are just — insane,” Lance concludes, and Keith carefully slides out of him, leaving Lance feeling empty.
“You loved it,” Keith says. He doesn’t even have the grace to roll to the side. He just collapses right back on top of Lance, resting his full weight on Lance’s body and knocking the breath out of him.
Lance’s hands aren’t imprisoned any longer and so he reaches up to brush Keith’s hair out of his face, to tuck it behind his ears.
“You’re a tease,” Lance says.
“You loved it.”
“A bastard,” Lance continues.
“You loved it,” Keith insists, giving him those eyes, now.
Lance sighs. “I loved it.”
Keith grins, and he wiggles up Lance’s body in order to press a kiss against his mouth. He doesn’t go far afterward, crossing his arms on Lance’s chest and propping his chin on top of them.
“Did it hurt?” Keith asks. “Would you want to do it again?”
“No, it didn’t hurt,” Lance says truthfully. “And, hmm, let me think about it… yeah,” Lance scoffs. “Kinda want to try a lot of things, now. Like doggy style. Or riding you!”
Keith squints at him suspiciously. “Is that just because…”
Lance frowns. “What?”
“You know.”
“Sorry, I speak Keith, but I’m not exactly fluent.”
Keith huffs. “Do you just want to try that one because it’s called cowgirl?”
Lance stares at Keith for a second — and then he bursts out laughing. He wraps his arms around Keith, rolling them over so that he’s on top, so that he can grin down at him. He’s still giggling, grinning wildly at he stares at Keith’s reddening face.
“You are so fucking cute,” Lance says. “You’re right. We have to do that one next.”
“I don’t even have an accent!” Keith says, going back to the age old argument — is Keith a total country boy?
“The country chooses the boy,” Lance says wisely.
“That doesn’t even make sense.”
“Just saw ‘yeehaw’ for me, babe,” Lance pleads. “I won’t even tell the others.”
“I don’t believe you for a second and I’m not saying it,” Keith says.
“Fine,” Lance says. “But I heard you, you know. When you said that you liked my pet names.”
“I’m pretty sure I said that I didn’t like to be called a worry-wart,” Keith says.
“Nope, you totally love all my nicknames for you. I’m gonna have to find more.”
“Please don’t.”
“Maybe snookums. Maybe sugarpie.”
“Lance.”
“Maybe teddy bear.”
“Hey, remember when you cried during sex?”
Lance gasps, slapping his hand over Keith’s mouth and halting his laughter.
“Too soon.”
Keith, despite the hand over his mouth, is laughing anyway, trying to pry Lance’s hand away. His eyes are squinched up as he giggles and if he hadn’t just called Lance out, Lance would be fawning over how cute he is right now.
“We’re breaking up,” Lance announces. “I hope you enjoyed that joke at my expense, because it was your last one.”
Keith frees his mouth, gaining control over Lance’s hand, and he’s just smiling so big. He looks so happy that Lance can’t help but smile back.
“You won’t break up with me,” Keith says confidently. “You love me too much.” And with that, he leans up to kiss Lance, and Lance decides to forgive him. Just this once.