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“Fuck,” Lance says against his lips, the two of them panting into each other’s mouths as Lance’s hand wanders down Keith’s already bare torso. “Keith,” he says, breathing heavily. “I have an idea.”
“Is it getting me off as fast as humanly possible?” Keith manages. It’s been a while since they’ve been able to do this. Lately, they’ve had mission after mission stacked on top of each other, meaning most nights they crash into bed totally exhausted, sleep overwhelming them the second their heads hit the pillow. Today, though, they’ve been given the day off, and Keith and Lance are spending their much needed free-time wisely.
“Something like that,” Lance says, and then he pulls Keith, backing them up across the room until Lance’s back is against the wall. Keith presses him against it eagerly.
“You want me to be in charge?” he guesses, moving to pin Lance’s hands, but Lance evades him.
“Not quite,” he says, his cheeks pink. “I was thinking more like...” And then he extends his leg, the one already positioned between Keith’s. The movement pushes him further from Lance, but it also situates his thigh closer to Keith’s crotch, and he jerks into it without really thinking. “Yeah,” Lance says, watching him intently.
“What?”
“Just like that,” Lance says with a nod. “Just... do it yourself. Get yourself off.” He hesitates before adding, carefully: “On me.”
Keith’s face instantly goes as red as his lion. “What?” he chokes out.
“Just...” Lance says, and he presses his thigh up firmer between Keith’s legs, and Keith can’t help the way his hips grind down into him, his eyes fluttering shut. But then they snap back open, because that’s just... that’s embarrassing. He can’t do that. He can’t just use Lance like that, while Lance watches him, feeling nothing himself...
“Come on,” Lance says quietly, his voice encouraging. “Please?”
And fuck. Keith is so horny. It’s been so long. So he lets his eyes slip shut and he grinds down against Lance’s thigh, a tiny moan slipping out of his mouth.
“Yeah, just like that,” Lance says, sounding even more breathless now. Keith leans forward, pressing his head into Lance’s chest and reaching up to grab his shoulders before he really starts to move. He tries to ignore what he’s doing, tries to forget that he’s just using his boyfriend to get off, but it’s hard with Lance whispering encouragements in his ear, with his hot breath making Keith’s hair tickle his neck.
“Lance,” he chokes out, truly humping him like a dog now, and he can feel himself getting closer. His fingers dig harder into Lance’s shoulders, his hips moving faster as he chokes out little gasps and moans. There’s definitely less coordination is his movements now, everything less regulated and controlled as he cants against Lance, moves practically his whole body in an attempt to grind his dick against Lance’s thigh.
He feels hot all over, his back sticky with sweat, and he still can’t believe he’s doing this. Just... rubbing himself off on Lance, fucking humping him, Lance privy to the whole show, to Keith’s desperation.
Lance can tell he’s getting close, Keith just knows it. He always can. Keith’s legs are shaking, his each and every breath escaping him in a gasp, and Lance’s voice finally registered in his ear again.
“Come on, baby,” he says, his voice deeper than usual, almost gravelly in his arousal. “You got it, come on, only a little further.”
“Lance,” Keith whines, his voice embarrassingly destroyed. He usually only sounds this wrecked when Lance is buried in him to the hilt, Keith flat on his back and his knees nearly touching his chest.
“You got it, come on...”
Suddenly, Keith is jerking against Lance, gasping against his bare chest as his hips stutter against his thigh, warmth exploding through him as his pants grow wet, Keith grinding into it before he can finally come to a stop. His face feels hot. Slowly, he peels himself away from Lance, standing up straight and trying to ignore the uncomfortable wetness in his underwear.
“How was it, babe?” Lance says. He’s smirking, the way he’s leaning against the wall looking entirely too casual. Keith’s arousal dissipates, leaving only embarrassment weighing leaden in his veins.
“You know how it was,” Keith mutters. Lance’s smirk only grows more pronounced.
“That I do.”
And that’s just the start of it. The start of something new that grows between them, only in private. Only sometimes. Because their life as paladins is rigid, in a way.
Keith wakes up early. He trains hard. He’s in control, all the time. He leads Voltron from the black lion, barking out orders and making split-second decisions on the battlefield. He has to be strong and put together all of the time, more so than ever when he’s in the public eye.
And Lance is his right hand man. They’re equal as people, as lovers, but in battle, Lance defers to Keith’s orders. He listens and he abides and sometimes he challenges Keith, but most of the time he accepts Keith’s decisions and carries them out in full force. When he makes a mistake, it’s more egregious to the public eye than when Keith makes one. Because Keith — he’s a leader. He has the weight of the war on his shoulders. But Lance? He just needs to follow orders. To the coalition, it’s easier to judge from the sidelines, when they’re the ones watching Voltron, not fighting in the battlefield themselves. Lance must be sick of shouldering that embarrassment.
Maybe that’s where this comes from.
Behind closed doors, Keith likes to lose control. He likes the red-faced, heart-gripping embarrassment that only Lance can make him feel. That only Lance gets to observe.
Behind closed doors, Lance likes to take control, the same way that he could easily take control in Keith’s absence. He likes to see the flush on Keith’s cheeks, the whimpering, gasping sounds he’ll make for nobody else.
Although, at that point, neither of them realize how far they’re willing to go.
—
“Come on,” Lance needles, digging his foot under Keith’s thigh and flexing his toes. He’s been pestering him for the better part of thirty minutes, meanwhile Keith’s been trying to be a good paladin and catch up on the reports Allura’s been sending them to read. “It’s not like anyone’s gonna be home anytime soon, anyway.”
“The issue isn’t that someone could walk in,” Keith scoffs, flicking the screen of the tablet to scroll to the next page. The Mari’xma are low on fuel sources, which could spell trouble if Voltron is in their sector anytime soon and needs their help in a fire-fight. But they’ll be heading to the Yariba galaxy next week, so they could pick up some of the fuel source there…
Arguably, the issue is that someone could walk in. Keith doesn’t actually expect the team to return anytime soon, but he’s aware that that’s something he could be worried about, nonetheless. Hunk and Pidge have an hours-long journey on the planet Burbela, to capture some kind of reclusive bug that can be used in some supposed potion of healing, and Shiro, Allura, and Coran are deep in the midsts of negotiations on a neighboring planet. They certainly won’t be back til late. Keith and Lance were lucky — their mission was finding a queen’s missing ring, but thanks to the fact that their society uses a cocaine-like substance as a daily vitamin, the queen didn’t realize it was on her hand the whole time. Their mission was over within ten minutes.
“Then what’s the problem?” Lance says, scooting his foot under Keith even further. Pointedly, he flexes his toes right under Keith’s ass, and Keith swats him in irritation.
“The problem is I’m not gonna have sex in a public space,” Keith scoffs. “That’s gross.”
“We’ll keep our clothes on,” Lance says, waving his hand flippantly. He’s not doing anything useful. He didn’t even bring a tablet with him to the lounge to at least pretend like he was going to do work. No, he just sat down next to Keith, stared at him practically without blinking for five whole minutes, and has spent every minute since trying to convince Keith to have sex right here on the couch. “It’ll keep all our juices totally contained.”
Keith flinches. “Our what?”
Lance snickers.
“No, seriously,” Keith presses. “Our juices? I’ll break up with you if you ever say anything like that again.”
Lance scoffs. “No you won’t,” he says, completely confident in his answer. He’s right, but Keith doesn’t do him the favor of making it obvious. Lance, lacking in Keith’s attention, retaliates by pulling his foot out from underneath Keith’s ass and plopping it right down on his crotch, pressing down lasciviously. “Ohoho, what have we here?”
“Shut the fuck up,” Keith mutters, pushing Lance’s foot out of his lap before Lance can get any more ideas. Yes, he’s hard, okay? It’s hard not to be when your boyfriend has been trying to turn you on for this long. But Keith’s absolutely not going to entertain the idea of Lance’s foot being pressed up against his dick. Throughout their relationship, Lance has proven himself to have a long list of kinks and an even longer list of kinks he’s willing to indulge in. If some sort of foot fetish resides on that list, then Keith’s gonna need more time to mentally prepare than this.
Lance, fed up with Keith ignoring him, reaches out and kicks Keith’s tablet to the floor. “Oops,” he says.
“You’re insatiable.”
“I’m horny!” Lance corrects. “And we’re all alone in the castle! C’mon, have you seriously never wanted to do anything in the common room?”
Keith gapes at him. “No! I’ve never wanted to do anything here!”
Lance raises an eyebrow.
“Are you serious?” Keith says.
“It’s hot!” Lance insists. “It’s a change of scenery. And there aren’t any doors. There’s an added level of excitement!”
“Voyeurism,” Keith says under his breath. “That’s one of your—”
“Don’t diagnose me,” Lance sniffs. “But yeah, totally. If some aliens wanted to watch us get it on, I’d absolutely be on board.”
Keith flushes, just imagining it. He’d be embarrassed about the whole thing, obviously. Hiding his head in Lance’s shoulder and trying to ignore their onlookers. But Lance, turned on by the idea, would probably revel in it. Even more than usual, given the fact that he likes it when Keith is embarrassed. He’d probably fuck him in some obscene position, making sure Keith was all on display…
“Ha,” Lance says. “You’re thinking about it.”
“I’m not,” Keith hisses.
“You are. C’mere.”
Keith turns to look at him. Mostly glare at him. He hasn’t picked up his tablet yet because… Well. Probably for several reasons. If he picks it up, Lance will just continue to distract him. And if he doesn’t pick it up…
Lance just might be able to convince him.
“You come here,” Keith says, just to be stubborn.
Lance snorts. “Tempting,” he says. “But I like you on my lap. Come here.”
Keith doesn’t know why he does it. Maybe he got possessed by one of those amoebas on the planet Xirteq. Or maybe Lance just has this magnetic pull that Keith can never ignore for long — like Lance is the Earth and Keith is his moon, helplessly circling him, getting pulled closer and closer all the while. One day, they’ll collide. Maybe they already did.
He perches on Lance’s lap, glaring down at him just because it’s more fun this way. Lance likes him soft and pliant, and Keith knows Lance likes him like that, and that’s the reason he usually puts up a fight. He’d rather Lance have to work for it. He’d rather stay prickly and stubborn, up until the moment that Lance teases and works him so hard that Keith has no option other than to turn into a pile of goo, begging him for release.
“What,” Keith says, just to be a brat.
Lance smirks at him. “You look nice today.”
“I’m glad I crawled over here to hear you say that,” Keith says. Whatever Lance is planning, it better not take long. Before they retreated to the lounge, they trained for a good hour on the training deck. It was fast and intense — sparring with Lance is always more fun than sparring with the bots — and Keith chugged upwards of three water bottles before hopping in the shower. If Lance hadn’t been pestering him for so long, he probably would’ve gone to the bathroom by now, even though he doesn’t really need to go yet.
“Grind on my thigh,” Lance blurts. Real subtle.
Despite Lance’s lack of finesse, Keith blushes anyway. “No way,” he says.
“What? You did it before.”
“Yeah, and it was embarrassing,” Keith says. “And then you made me lay on the bed naked so you could cum on me.”
“It was hot,” Lance corrects. “And you liked it.”
Yeah, okay. Maybe he liked it. Maybe he loved it. But he doesn’t need Lance getting a big head. And a guy can only take so much embarrassment, you know? There has to be a limit to how many times you can hump your boyfriend to completion. Otherwise, your face will turn so red that you’ll explode. Probably.
“I had to do all the work,” Keith protests. It’s a good argument, if you ask him. What’s the point of sex if you’re doing everything yourself? Keith might as well be humping a pillow. At least, that’s what he’ll say if Lance presses him on it.
But then Lance leans forward, gripping Keith’s shirt at the chest and pulling him down so he can whisper in his ear. “Oh, yeah?” he says. His voice is low and hot. Keith isn’t fooled. He knows Lance is putting on his Sex Voice on purpose. Still… that doesn’t mean it isn’t working. “Then how come you came so fast?”
Keith’s breath turns shaky. He’s a weak, weak man. And Lance is an asshole.
“I was getting it over with,” Keith mumbles, ignoring the way he’s shaking, just slightly, in Lance’s lap. Lance surely can’t ignore it.
He hums, amused, and sucks Keith’s earlobe into his mouth. As he does, he manages to wiggle under Keith, sliding one leg to the outside of Keith’s so that he can press his other thigh up in between Keith’s legs. Keith is straddling Lance’s thigh. He can feel his cock throbbing against his sweats, the promise of pleasure pressed right up against it. He resolutely, dedicatedly resolves not to let himself groan — and immediately fails.
“Sure you were, sweetheart,” Lance says. “Do it anyway? For me?”
Bastard. There’s, like, levels to Lance’s foul play right here.
The first level is that Lance knows Keith liked it. Obviously. It’s the same way that he knows everything that Keith likes. He knows that as much as Keith complains and protests, he’ll fall limp under Lance’s ministrations the second Lance gets his mouth on his ass, even though Keith will go right back to saying that it’s weird the second after he’s spilled over the sheets and grinded against Lance’s face. It’s the same way that Lance knows he can whisper filthy things in Keith’s ear, and Keith will gasp and moan and clutch Lance tighter, only to slap him or look at him askance the second Lance dares to say something similar the second they’re not in the heat of the moment. It’s the same way that Lance knows that Keith will drag his feet and roll his eyes but that the second Lance embarrasses him, Keith is twice as turned on as he would’ve been otherwise. Lance just knows.
And then the second level is the fact that Lance isn’t even doing this just for him. Like, they can both agree that getting a blowjob is more pleasurable than giving one. And yet, they still both enjoy going down on each other. It’s not because it feels good for them — it’s because they’re the one doing it. They’re making the other fall apart underneath them, feeling them twitch in their mouth and jerk when they swallow around the other. Sure, there’s no stimulation involved for the one going down, but it’s still pleasurable in some other, deeper way.
Keith knows that that’s how Lance feels with this. If Keith gets off by grinding on Lance’s thigh, Lance won’t feel anything. Not the way that he would if they were pressed up against each other, grinding their cocks together and chasing their orgasms simultaneously. Lance knows that an orgasm isn’t in it for him, at least not right away, if Keith gets off on his thigh. But it’s going to turn him on. He’s going to feel just as breathless and out of it, watching Keith and all his reactions and knowing the whole time that despite the fact that Keith is doing it, Lance is the one making him, and Keith is embarrassed because of it. Last time, it only took Lance a handful of strokes to cum. He was that turned on.
So, it’s definitely foul play. Because Lance isn’t just asking because he wants Keith to enjoy himself. He’s asking because he wants it, too.
Keith can already feel the mortification building deep in his gut. It’s mixed with his arousal, red-hot and insistant, and he can’t muster up the courage to answer Lance. To stutter out some reply and aquiesce to his request. Instead, Keith sets his hands on Lance’s shoulders and grinds down into his thigh, avoiding eye contact with his boyfriend and ignoring the way Lance’s mouth drops open in this little gasp.
“Yes, baby,” he groans, his hands coming up to grab Keith’s ass. He squeezes, his fingers digging in so tightly that it straddles the line between pleasure and pain, and Keith can’t help but stutter into Lance. He leans forward solely so that he can hide his face in Lance’s neck.
It’s more and less embarrassing this way. Less, because he doesn’t have to see Lance’s reactions. Doesn’t have to watch the heat building in his eyes, coupled with the amused lilt of his mouth. But it’s worse because he knows every little panting breath he lets out is right against Lance’s neck, and even if Lance can’t see the pleasure on Keith’s face, he can feel it more intimately this way. Plus, now he has direct access to Keith’s ear.
“I know you love this,” Lance murmurs, pulling Keith down onto his thigh harshly. “You like it when I watch you. You like how embarrassing it is. You’re so horny, so lost in the pleasure, but I only feel you against my thigh. My head’s still in the game, unlike yours.”
Keith whimpers. “Lance,” he whines. Better and worse. Embarrassing. But he likes it. Fuck.
“I wonder how often you get off when I’m not around,” Lance says, chuckling lowly. “I mean, we have so many missions. We don’t get to fuck nearly as often as I want to. When you’re in your room alone, do you think about me?”
Keith gasps. He cants his hips into Lance, grinding into him more desperately. The thing about grinding against someone is it’s so much harder to get off. You have to keep up the rhythm, the pressure. It’s not as simple as gripping your cock and jerking yourself to completion. Every time Keith’s hips stutter, his impending orgasm slinks further into his gut, meanwhile the building pleasure just grows, tempting Keith even more. It’s a vicious cycle, hard to obtain but so worth it to achieve.
“I bet you think about me walking in,” Lance says. “You’d like that, wouldn’t you? I bet you want me to see you sprawled out on your bed, gripping your cock so desperately and jerking into your hand. I bet that’s what makes you cum. Every time.”
Fuck, fuck, fuck! It’s not fair, because Lance is right. And how the hell should he know that, anyway? It’s not like Keith’s ever told anyone, ever written it down somewhere. No, Lance just knows him that well. He knows what Keith likes, to the point where he can accurately guess what Keith masturbates to.
It’s probably not as often as Lance would like to imagine, but whenever Keith indulges, he’s definitely thinking about Lance. He likes to kick the sheets away, and he always closes his eyes. That way, in his mind, he can imagine it all from Lance’s point of view. He can imagine him walking in, seeing Keith, and staying rooted to the spot. Completely silent.
Keith will cum, and he’ll keep his eyes closed for an extra second or two. Just imagining Lance speaking up. He’d say something witty, hot, and humiliating — all in the same sentence. Fuck.
Once again, Keith orgasm is making itself known. But at the same time, another, unwelcome feeling is making itself known with it.
Keith has to pee.
It’s not, like, super pressing right now. And Keith can’t lie, sometimes, needing to pee can make an orgasm a little bit better. He’s not entirely sure why, but the pressure inside his bladder seems to heighten the sensation. If he can cum soon, it’ll be even better than usual, and then he can scurry off to the bathroom to finally take a piss.
But Lance keeps muttering dirty things to Keith, and Keith’s hips keep stuttering, and each time, his orgasm is delayed. It’s pushed back a little further, waiting, watching. Keith needs a perfect rhythm, and that’s harder to achieve when they’re horizontal rather than standing. At least last time, Lance’s thigh was this perfect incline that Keith could grind against. Now, he has to concentrate on keeping himself angled exactly right. And it’s not just bucking forward, but down and up. It’s too much for his brain to handle, especially with Lance distracting him with his words and the back of Keith’s mind insisting that he needs to pee.
Lance groans — Keith’s not entirely sure what he did, but he probably made some sort of noise that he’s glad he’s already forgotten — and then Lance nudges Keith’s face up and they’re kissing.
It’s sloppy and heated. Keith bucks and twitches against Lance, gasping into his mouth and trying to ignore the fact that Lance is kissing him perfectly, the same way he would be kissing him if they were simply laying side by side, because he’s not distracted the same way Keith is.
It’s good. Great. It’s fucking amazing, and Lance is hot, touching him everywhere and wracking Keith’s pleasure higher and higher, despite the fact that, other than Lance’s hands skimming over him, Keith is doing all the work.
But Keith feels a pang. It’s sharp and painful, and Keith realizes that maybe he underestimated how badly he needed to pee. It’s the same way that he once jumped into his lion and took to the battle field even though he “kinda” had to go. He figured he could hold it, not having accounted for how much he drank beforehand, and by the end of the battle, Keith was fighting with one hand on the levers and the other pressed between his legs, trying to hold it in.
It’s that same kind of pain, the one that says emergency, that says now, and Keith groans, not entirely sure whether it’s more from the pain of needing to piss or the pleasure of Lance’s thigh between his legs.
To Lance, it must sound like pleasure alone. He moans in response, pulling Keith even closer, and Keith’s body shifting unintentionally sends alarm bells ringing through his entire being. His thighs clench tighter around Lance’s. He stills, concentrating on holding it in, even as Lance draws him into a kiss and slips his tongue into Keith’s mouth.
But it’s not working as well as it should. In other occasions where Keith has felt (embarrassingly) this close to pissing himself, he’s been able to press his legs together or shove a hand between them. Even crossing them helps. But Lance’s leg is between his, and when Keith tries to squeeze his closed, he just feels the gap that Lance’s leg creates instead of any of the temporary relief that comes with the pressure of his own thighs touching.
Fuck. It’s ridiculous. It’s fucking stupid. But despite Keith’s efforts, he feels his bladder riot and something gives way — just a little. He can feel a few drops break free, rushing from his bladder and out the head of his cock. It’s not enough to be apparent, but Keith can feel the wetness in his underwear. The shame that he just peed himself, even if it was only a little bit. It’s evident, and even if Lance doesn’t know it, Keith does.
He breaks out of the kiss, gasping, and he pulls away from Lance. Just a little. He’s sitting up on his knees, Lance’s leg still keeping him from clenching his legs shut properly, and it takes more strength than Keith’s proud to admit to say that he doesn’t shove his hand between his legs and grab his dick in an attempt to keep it all in.
“Pause,” Keith says abruptly. His voice sounds raspy to his own ears. Fucked out. “I need to get up. I gotta piss.”
Lance just stares at him. His expression — usually laughably readable — is completely blank. Finally, his eyebrows twitch up in subdued interest. “Or,” he says, his hands landing on Keith’s hips. He pulls Keith back down, right onto his thigh. “You could hold it?”
Lance keeps pulling, until his face is pressed against Keith’s neck. His lips skim over the sensitive skin there, his tongue tracing a delicate line. Keith is shaking. He didn’t realize it was an emergency until it was an emergency.
“What the fuck,” he breathes, his entire body shaking. “Lance,” he says. He doesn’t even know what it’s supposed to sound like. A protest? A question?
Lance ignores him. He just hums, and he wraps his arms around Keith’s waist and pulls him closer. It’s practically a hug, but the force behind it brings Keith’s stomach against Lance’s and even that pressure pushes on Keith’s bladder. It forces a similar kind of release, just a little bit more leaking out of Keith, but he jerks in Lance’s arms with a gasp, trying and failing to pull his crotch away from Lance’s thigh.
Shit! If he doesn’t go right now he very well could piss himself right here. All over his boyfriend. Sitting on Lance’s lap. It’s mortifying to a whole different degree, and Keith struggles in Lance’s arms because he has to leave right now if he’s going to be able to make it to the bathroom. Already, the thought of standing up has him feeling woozy, like the sudden shift in gravity might make his bladder let go and spill all over the floor. But that would be better than on Lance, at least.
“Lance, I’m serious,” Keith gasps. He squirms, but Lance’s arms are firm. “Let me up.” His bladder aches. It presses against him everywhere, begging for relief, for release. And Lance is trapping him in place.
“I’m serious, too,” Lance says suddenly. He pulls away enough that Keith can see his face. He’s looking at Keith intently, not a hint of amusement on his face. “I think you can hold it.”
He thinks wrong. But he’s only wrong because Keith kept his mouth shut for this long. He doesn’t realize how desperate Keith is, how close. He doesn’t realize that he isn’t just teasing Keith, who realized he has to pee and would like to get up now. No, he’s teasing Keith, who’s on the brink of pissing himself and soiling them both if Lance doesn’t take him seriously in the next two seconds.
“Lance—” Keith begins to protest.
“If you really don’t want to, just say the word. I’ll let you go,” Lance says. God. Curse Lance and his stupid safe word. He made them pick one out months ago, the second he started talking about kinks. Keith hates it, because it puts all the power in his hands. One word, one simple little utterance, and Lance will not only let him up but he’ll help him. He’ll ease Keith away and make sure he doesn’t do anything to aggravate the situation. But if Keith stays silent, it’s all in his hands. Anything that happens, he knows he had the power to stop. It’s something that Keith knows he could’ve prevented, if he really wanted to.
“I won’t make you do anything you don’t want to do. But…” Lance continues. He squeezes Keith’s ass, pulling him just a little bit closer, and Keith shivers. “I think you can last a little longer. Plus, I love having you in my lap like this. All squirmy and needy. It’s really hot.”
A stupid, treacherous moan escapes Keith’s mouth. Somehow, despite how badly he needs to piss, he’s still hard. His cock makes that readily known when his hips jerk into Lance, completely uninhibited.
Keith is this close to losing it. But it’s Lance’s fault for making it sound so hot. He didn’t think about how he might look from Lance’s point of view. All the more desperate than usual, flushed and teary-eyed for more reasons than one.
The panic ebbs, just slightly. He wants to hold on. He wants to stay desperate and needy, just for Lance. He wants to wiggle and squirm in his lap. The arousal, which never really left, pools even more in his abdomen. He wants it, even if it’s mixed with the desperate need to piss. Embarrassingly enough, the thought of messing up, of letting go too much, flits through Keith’s mind, and he’s even more turned on at the thought. Just theoretically, of course.
But then, the idea of letting go like that makes his bladder spasm. Even more piss escapes at the mere thought, and Keith clenches down too late to stop it. There’s now a visible dark patch at the front of his sweats — either ignored or unnoticed by Lance — who cocks his head.
“Well?” he says. “Think you can last a little longer for me?” He’s grinning. It’s adorable and infuriating, all at once. It’s tinged with amusement, which is a look Keith has seen on Lance’s face far too often. He likes what’s happening, and he likes that Keith is embarrassed. Keith likes it, too, but there’s something more, this time. Something new.
Keith can't help it. He goes back to grinding against Lance desperately. His need to cum rivals with his need to piss and he kisses Lance, gasping against his lips as he jerks against him, feeling himself getting closer. He has no choice but to ignore the sounds coming out of his mouth. They’re wrecked sounds. They’re broken, a chorus of whines and cries. A plea for more, for something, now.
It’s humiliating, but even as Keith grinds against Lance, he can feel himself losing it even more. Every few strokes, his cock twitches and leaks. He’s growing wetter and wetter, but he’s close. He’s shaking, trembling in Lance’s grasp.
"Let go, baby,” Lance murmurs, kissing Keith’s neck. “Go on, you’ll feel so much better.”
Keith can’t. If he cums, he’s going to piss. He just knows it. So he holds on, grinding against Lance weakly, holding his breath and then gasping when he can’t anymore, and then holding it again. The leaks keep happening. He can feel it, his body teasing him with relief before Keith clamps down on it, refusing to let it happen.
He can’t, he can’t, he can’t.
Lance grabs his hips, helping Keith, guiding him, making him grind against him even harder.
“Let go for me, baby,” he whispers, and Keith can’t hold it anymore.
He shakes apart against Lance, cumming against his will. It lights him up, expands through his body and tears him apart. His moans and cries, collapsing against Lance as tidal wave after tidal wave of pleasure rips through him — and then, embarrassingly enough, it’s followed by the relief he’s craved all along.
His boxers are wet with cum, but it doesn’t stop there. “You’re such a good boy for me,” Lance says, but he doesn’t even realize yet. He doesn’t realize that Keith’s bladder is unclenching and he’s pissing himself, soaking his underwear and his pants and Lance, seeping down onto the couch under them and covering the both of them, wet and warm and pressed together so tightly.
Keith can’t stop it anymore, but he doesn’t want to. It feels so fucking good, like cumming a second time. His whole body lets go and he knows that he’s pissing but it feels like he’s cumming and cumming and cumming. His cock is soft, but he’s grinding against Lance anyway, moaning as he humps him through the wetness, tears flooding his eyes in relief.
Belatedly, he realizes he’s sobbing. He can’t even pinpoint the reason why. Pleasure, relief, embarrassment. It’s all there, mixing together in some cocktail of horrible proportions. Keith shudders, finally coming to a stop when the stream ends, leaving him blissfully empty. It’s only after the fact that Keith realizes that Lance has grown taut beneath him, probably stiff in realization, in disgust.
It’s over and Keith slumps against Lance, wincing at the squelch that emits between their laps, his body shaking. He’s this close to sobbing for real. It’s embarrassing all right. But Keith’s not even sure if it’s embarrassing in the horny sense. It might just be the real kind of embarrassment, that leaves him wanting to slink into his room and disappear beneath his bedsheets for the next twelve hours.
“Wow,” Lance breathes, and Keith flinches.
He just pissed in his boyfriend’s lap. Mortification slams into him, threatening to bowl him over. It’s mixed with panic and fear and Keith is utterly humiliated. He fucking pissed on his boyfriend who just wanted a fun afternoon. Who didn’t even cum.
Keith shoves his hand between them, determined to fix at least one of those things, and Lance jerks and whimpers when Keith rough-handles his sensitive cock. It’s soft.
“Wh— did you…?” Keith says. For a second, the shame embodies him even more. He turned Lance off. Completely.
But to his surprise, Lance blushes underneath him. Lance looks pretty with pink cheeks.
“I told you I found it hot,” Lance says, shifting uncomfortably underneath him. Somehow, Keith can tell. It’s not the uncomfortable shift of someone who’s just been pissed on — rather, it’s the uncomfortable shift of someone who just came in their pants.
Keith groans, flooded with relief and a stupid kind of giddiness. Only Lance and his endless kinks.
“I can’t believe that just happend,” Keith huffs, collapsing against Lance and hiding from the world. From Lance. But Lance just grabs Keith by the hips, one of his hands sneaking up under Keith’s shirt to stroke his sweaty back.
Lance laughs, bright and loud. “I wouldn’t mind doing it again,” he admits.
Keith just presses his face in Lance’s shoulder harder. Hides. He’s hiding. Not facing any of this head on. “What?” he breathes, incredulous. This was possibly the most humiliating experience of his life, and Lance wants to do it again?
“What?” Lance echoes, except he sounds happy and amused, a juxtaposition to Keith. “C’mon, let’s get cleaned up.”
Keith gasps, struck with terror. “The couch first!” he insists. “Oh my God. Oh my God. No one can know.”
Lance just giggles, easing Keith off him and onto the floor, until Keith is standing on his own two feet. The couch — leather, thank God — is wet with the obvious aftermath of their recent activities. Keith flushes harder just seeing it, but Lance wraps an arm around his waist and kisses him on the forehead.
Obviously, they need to talk about what just happened. Discuss this kink a little. Review Lance’s apparent comfort with it, at the very least.
But Lance just turns Keith’s head, kissing him on the lips. “You hop in the shower, I’ll deal with the couch,” he says. “I’ll join you once I’m done.”
“Sure,” Keith says, numb. Possible a little horny still. Possibly.
“Love you,” Lance adds, squeezing Keith a little tighter, and Keith echoes the sentiment before hurrying across the castle, toward his bathroom.
They’ll talk about it in the shower, then. And if Lance is very polite, and perhaps very generous… Well. Then maybe, possibly, Keith might admit that he’d be down to do it again, too.