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The Thriistiians knew how to fucking party.
Days like this made the job description sound much more lush than it was: “get drunk with thankful aliens in the name of freedom from the Galra!” Lance liked diplomacy anyway- in years past it was an excuse to exercise his bluster and flirt awkwardly (an essential part of young adulthood, he stood by it!). Now, these types of celebratory diplomatic shindigs operating under the guise of “missions” were a welcome respite from the tedium of, well, actual work. (And if Lance had matured enough to actually appreciate partaking in and learning about alien cultures… so sue him.)
Lance was definitely having a good day on the job. The team had been knocking back syrupy sweet alien booze that not only gave Lance the expected head buzz, but seemingly made his whole body tingle, not unlike an aphrodisiac. He felt as though he was glowing. He would have said he never expected booze to be so universal, but actually, delicious drinks that made you want to shake your ass seemed like the first thing any civilization worth its salt would invent, after, like, roads. And democracy. Actually, maybe before democracy.
The music was completely wordless, probably most comparable to Earth techno or EDM. Lance would have described it as sounding like bubbles, rising and popping over the backbeat of some alien synth bass. Bubbles, too, were rising in the glasses all around them on the dance floor: bright green and pink liquid sloshing over the sides of thin cylindrical glasses carried around on giant white platters by chrome-clad Thriistiians.
The Thriistiians were tall with long limbs and fingers. They appeared to be mammalian, not covered in scales or glossy integuments of other species they’d encountered, but completely hairless- not that Lance had inspected them too closely. (He was a little distracted with the very much mammalian presence of Keith, warm against Lance’s back, breath on the side of his neck, as they rocked to the music.)
The aliens’ lanky yellow bodies undulated around them on the dance floor, which pleasantly glowed like a cozy, subdued disco. It reminded Lance of the dance games he would watch his siblings play when they were kids at arcades back home. He’d come a long way, he recognized, from the point when everything reminded him of Earth. Now, swaying to the rhythm, he felt a warm sense of camaraderie with the alien culture, instead of being shot through with a sharp pain of homesickness.
It probably helped that Keith was beside him, half-drunk and gripping Lance’s hips as he lost himself in the strange music. Lance loved when Keith got like this, possessive and insatiable, uninhibited enough to put his hands all over Lance in public. It had taken them a long time to get to this point, to get that comfortable. It was well earned.
A Thriistiian bumped into Lance, blinked its many spider-like eyes, which caused a ripple effect across basically its entire face, and then chittered an apology, brushing Lance’s shoulder, long alien fingers trailing down his pectoral for the briefest instant. Lance shivered.
Keith’s fingers felt bruising. “You like the fucking attention, don’t you,” he growled in Lance’s ear.
It was a poorly kept secret, really- He liked it when Keith got a little mean. That was why he needled Keith so much, constantly pressing his buttons, pushing him to the limit with snarky remarks. Lance would smirk and waggle his eyebrows, and be rewarded with Keith, this version of Keith, biting at his neck and roughly digging his fingers into Lance’s spread, swaying hips.
Lance panted breathily. He pressed his ass backwards into Keith, moving his hips not to the music, but to tease.
He felt Keith’s sharp intake of breath tickle his neck. “Noooo,” he drawled, voice lilting, “only one person I need attention from.”
That was it. He’d ignited the territorial streak he sought to stoke in his boyfriend with the help of the alien booze and atmosphere. Grinding his ass firmly into his boyfriend’s hardening cock on the dancefloor, surrounded by lithe aliens blinking their many eyes at them, couldn’t have hurt, either.
And Lance knew Keith was pent up. Lance knew it because he was, too. The Thriistiian party had been well-deserved; they had been working their asses off lately, and Lance hadn’t been properly piped down in too long. He was ready to get his ass fucked off. Okay, the metaphor needed work, but he was drunk, and super horny, so. He would work on the figurative language of his internal monologue later.
Keith’s limber fingers were skirting the edge of Lance’s waistband, dipping under to rub small circles on his skin. Right. More pressing matters. Lance turned his head to catch Keith’s bottom lip with his teeth, which escalated quickly into a messy, open mouthed kiss.
“We’ve gotta get the fuck outta here,” Keith growled in his ear. “Before we ruin our diplomatic mission by fucking in this club right now.” He gripped Lance’s ass as he said it, so he couldn’t have been that worried.
Lance laughed breathlessly. “I dunno, they seem kinda…”
He cast his eyes around at the handful of Thriistiians in their immediate vicinity, a few of whom blinked their dozens of eyes between them at Lance and Keith’s lurid display. Lance got the sense that, on a more humanoid face, their expressions might have been considered leering. One pair of Thriistiians were too caught up in each other to notice them, twining their limbs together and engaging in some sort of undulating motion.
“Uh, into it,” Lance finished lamely.
“Mm,” Keith agreed throatily. “I’m sure you wouldn’t mind anyway. Would you like that? All these strangers watching me fuck your tight little ass on this dance floor?”
Keith’s slender fingers traced Lance’s throat- just the side of his neck, really, with a feather-light touch, but oh, the promise was there. Lance gulped.
“Slut,” Keith whispered, and Lance was gone.
“Yes, yes, let’s go now,” he agreed hastily, and Keith was pulling him by the wrist through the throng of the crowd. Lance was warmed over with appreciation, in that moment. He probably would have been unable to even navigate to the exit if the place was on fire, because his body felt like it was on fire, brain clouded over with a haze of lust and space alcohol on top of being enraptured by Keith: Keith’s confident swagger as he marched Lance around, the broad line of his shoulders, the way the black ringlets of hair curled at the nape of his neck from the sweat.
Lance had never been more thankful to see the inside of an alien hotel room in his life. He’d noticed, when they arrived on Thriistiaa, how inviting it was. Everything was painted in muted, warm colors that complimented the Thriistiian complexion- blush, rose, dewy gold, cream. The shag carpet was plush, the soft pink sheets softer than silk, the lamp bathing everything in a hazy near-orange glow. The complimentary champagne, crisp and beading with condensation in the ice bucket. (Well, maybe not champagne, but close to it- Lance had never had bright green champagne on Earth. But then again, Lance had never had champagne on Earth.) It made sense, for a culture valuing hospitality and bacchanal pleasure so highly. He and Keith had talked about the interior design when they’d arrived, throwing innuendo-laden lines at each other about how nice it would be to enjoy each other’s company, finally some down time, in the impossibly big bed.
One thing was for sure- they weren’t talking about curtains now. As Keith threw Lance down on the bed, Lance was, in fact, pretty sure he couldn’t form any thoughts at all other than Keith. Keith, with his strong, sinewy muscles, body bracketing Lance’s underneath him. Keith, staring down at him with darkened eyes, hungrily. Keith, diving in to nip at his lips, mouth sloppy kisses up the side of his neck, teeth playing at the pulse point, hands rucking up Lance’s shirt.
They spent a few minutes like that, tongues in each other’s mouths, Keith’s fingers dancing over the taut planes of Lance’s abdomen. Then Keith, the tease, trailed his hand up to idly play with Lance’s chest, flicking at a nipple. Lance gasped.
“Please,” he gasped, breaking their kiss, but just barely. Their mouths were still connected with a strand of saliva, which would’ve been gross if it wasn’t so hot, like everything, Lance supposed, about sex.
“Please what?” Keith smirked.
Lance failed to hold back a whimper. “I’m so hard,” he whined, canting his hips up in desperate pursuit of friction. But Keith, damn him, had rolled over to the side, giving his hands room to roam across Lance’s chest under his rucked-up shirt, but depriving Lance of the blissful friction of Keith’s hard cock to rut against. (And Lance knew he was hard. Keith was good at playacting, taking things slow to draw gasps and pathetic moans from Lance. He liked to really get him begging for it- but Lance never doubted for a second that Keith was rock fucking solid, right now. Keith just had better self control- that was half the fun, getting him to break it.)
“You know what I want,” Lance whined. “Please, mi corazón, it’s been too long. I want your cock, I want you inside me, please,” he begged. (He would never admit to such begging, but he always caved. With Keith above him, delicious and masculine and all his, who could blame him?)
Lance was rewarded for his debasement with a sexy smirk, and Keith pulling Lance’s shirt over his head. Before Lance could respond- finally, they were getting somewhere- Keith had his hot wet mouth on Lance’s nipple, swirling his tongue around the bud. Lance gasped. He had sensitive nipples, probably more than most people, and Keith was always toying with them, teasing Lance. Keith tugged Lance’s shirt off, and if that hadn’t given him a serious case of sex-hair already, the way Keith’s fingers roughly carded through Lance’s fringe would have. Lance inhaled sharply, spine tingling at the sensation of Keith’s nails grazing his scalp.
“Get naked,” Lance snarked, pulling at Keith’s shirt. Surprisingly, Keith wordlessly complied, shucking his shirt and tossing it somewhere on the floor to search for later. Keith didn’t give Lance a chance to appreciate the view before he was attacking Lance’s neck with an animal ferocity. Lance moaned, knowing Keith would leave marks there. A shiver ran up his spine at the thought of walking around wearing Keith’s claim. It wasn’t new; neither of them were strangers to hickeys or illicit bruises that their teammates would glimpse in a locker room or pool, but it still sent a thrill through Lance’s body. He hoped they would never lose that urgency, the hot need, hoped they would remain full of that red-blooded spark for the rest of their lives.
Keith’s hot tongue laved over Lance’s pulse point- yeah, no worries there; they hadn’t lost the spark. Lance wanted to live in a bubble of this forever, but he also ached desperately to have Keith inside him. His cock was so hard that it throbbed.
“Keith, baby, want you now,” he moaned, neck aching, as Keith pulled away with a feline grin.
“Love the way you fucking smell,” Keith rumbled, ducking in to nip at Lance’s earlobe and inhale his scent as he used those nimble hands- god, those hands- to undo Lance’s jeans.
Lance was weak for Keith’s scent kink. He didn’t know if it was a latent Galra instinct, some sort of sexy primal mating thing, or just Keith being possessive, but he wasn’t complaining. Keith denied it, blushing a reddish-purple whenever Lance teased him, but it was painfully obvious. Even setting aside the admissions Keith let slip in the heat of the moment like this (or softly muttering “babe, you smell so good” in the mornings, face tucked into the crook of Lance’s neck as they both shook off the sleepy haze), there was no hiding how Keith paused for a moment to inhale against Lance’s groin when he sucked him off, or how Keith’s hips would start to stutter in their rhythm when he pressed his nose against the back of Lance’s neck as he took him from behind. Lance, frankly, was just waiting for the day he would walk in on his lover huffing Lance’s scent out of a pillowcase or discarded pair of boxers. Hmm, that would be hot- Lance filed it away to explore another time.
“Love your everything,” Lance retaliated, laughing slightly as his hands worked their way up Keith’s neck, through his hair, cupping the side of his face, thumb stroking idly over the scar there. “Especially your cock. Which I’d really love if you fucked me with. Now.”
Keith laughed, trailing kisses down Lance’s toned stomach. Lance gasped and bucked his hips as Keith swirled his tongue around his navel.
“Sensitive today,” Keith noted.
“It’s been a long time,” Lance whined in his defense.
“Mm.” Lance, at guidance of Keith’s insistent hands, lifted his hips a bit to facilitate Keith making quick work of his pants. Keith tossed them on the floor to follow the shirt. “That’s why I gotta open you up nice.” At that, Lance whimpered. Stars, he was such a needy mess.
Keith was laving his tongue down the taut planes of Lance’s body. One hand grabbed at his asscheek roughly, the other perilously light in its stroking of Lance’s weeping cock. His thumb ghosted over Lance’s leaking slit. Keith trailed kisses around the area, teasing, but also indulging himself. He loved Lance’s legs, loved sucking a bruise at the apex of his inner thighs like he was doing now. Lance was getting impatient, huffing adorable little puffs of breath through his nose. He tried to cant his hips up into Keith’s face, to interrupt Keith’s gleeful nuzzling at his cock, but those calloused hands were firmly pinning his hips to the mattress.
“Don’t rush me,” Keith commanded. “I want to take my time with your slutty little body.”
“Please,” Lance keened, jerking against Keith’s grasp.
Keith lingered, though. He ran his tongue in a broad stripe along the underside of Lance’s cock before swirling it around the dusky head. His senses were overwhelmed in the taste and smell of Lance. Keith could feel something possessive rumbling in his chest with every gasp and choked moan he elicited from Lance.
Keith pulled away. Lance shivered, cold at the loss of sensation just as his cock was finally getting some much needed attention.
“Turn over for me,” Keith demanded.
Lance did. First his hands and knees, then dropping to his elbows, as if presenting his ass to Keith. Lance delighted in Keith’s sharp intake of breath.
“Fuck my ass,” he breathed, wiggling his hips lewdly in Keith’s face. Lance could be sort of a brat in bed (and, well, out of it)- he wasn’t above playing the blunt card. Especially when it netted him this: Keith, the ass man that he was, growling and gripping his cheeks harshly, spreading them apart to get a better view of Lance’s puckered hole.
Keith bent forward to bite- hard- at the backs of Lance’s thighs and the tender strip of skin where ass met leg.
Keith slapped Lance’s ass, hard, biting his lip and reveling in the way the sunkissed skin jiggled. Keith loved Lance’s ass, could worship it for hours, bite every freckle that dotted his lower back, thighs, the firm swell of muscled glutes.
And if Lance actually yelled when he felt Keith’s skilled tongue finally lick a hot stripe over his aching hole, well, he would never tell.
He pushed his ass back against Keith’s face, chasing the blissful sensation of Keith’s tongue in his hole. Keith kept breaking away from the rimming to bite and kiss at Lance’s cheeks. When he closed his mouth over Lance’s fluttering hole and sucked, Lance’s hand flew down to his cock despite himself, mindlessly chasing stimulation and pleasure. His legs trembled, his whole body weak with need.
But Keith pulled away. Keith’s fingers wrapped around Lance’s wrist, pulling Lance’s hand away from his own cock.
“Don’t touch yourself, sweetheart. You’ll cum on my cock alone. Gotta be nice and ready for it.” Lance let out a pitiful mewl.
“Then hurry up!”
“No.” Keith slapped his ass again, marveled in the reddening flesh. “You’ll just have to be patient. I still haven’t opened you up. You’re not ready for my cock, baby,” he explained as Lance rutted against the sheets, cock leaving a leaky trail of precum. Keith rustled around in the nightstand, quickly finding lube. They’d brought their own, stowed away with less enticing items like toothpaste and tiger balm in the bathroom, but the Thriistiian lube was right there… Keith shrugged and flipped open the cap, giving it a tentative sniff. Strawberry, or something like it. Normally there wasn’t alien lube lying around, but this seemed unsurprising- just another testament to the Thriistiian code of hospitality. (Keith supposed they wouldn’t mind the ruined sheets much, either. There were definitely worse planets to be having sex on.)
He warmed the sticky lubricant up between his fingers for a few seconds, not wanting to be overly mean to Lance- he would wreak enough havoc on his ass as it was, so he could at least be courteous in this, even if a small mischievous part of him wanted to spread cold lube over his crack just to see Lance jump.
Keith circled a fingertip delicately around Lance’s rim, massaging the lube into him. Lance puffed in relief at the sensation, needy hips gyrating as his hole all but sucked Keith’s finger in. Keith continued to nip and lick at his lover’s buttocks as he worked in a second finger, scissoring him open.
“Seriously, I don’t need much prep. I’m really relaxed.” Lance pressed his ass back, legs chafing on the rough fabric of Keith’s jeans behind him. Wait- why wasn’t he naked? Lance couldn’t have this; he needed his boyfriend’s cock spearing him open, like, yesterday.
“Why do you still have your fucking pants on? Take them off!” Lance demanded. Keith would normally balk at this, playfully faux-punish Lance a little, but his cock was uncomfortable, constrained by his jeans, and truthfully he would have taken them off earlier if he hadn’t been so distracted by his boyfriend’s plump little ass in his face. Now he was paying the price, having to wipe the lube off his fingers on his pant leg so he could unbuckle his belt. He grimaced.
Fortunately, Lance’s face was buried in a pillow as he keened and rocked his hips into the mattress, so he didn’t bear close witness to Keith’s fumbling.
When Keith leaned back in to run his tongue roughly over Lance’s hole as he spread his cheeks wide with his hands, he didn’t hear any further complaints. Keith lapped around Lance’s cleft, noting the taste of the lubricant- not quite strawberry, but something close enough to make no difference. “Nngh. Can’t wait to fuck your sweet little hole.”
Lance’s whole body thrummed with white-hot arousal. The sound of Keith’s glistening fingers loosening his ass was obscene. Lance felt more than open, ready, and he was getting impatient. They hadn’t made love in so long. He was so pent up from all their teasing. Keith was teasing his ass, but had barely touched his cock.
“You’re taking my fingers so well,” Keith praised him. “Look how nice you’re opening up for me. So loose from only two fingers. What a good little slut.” Lance bit his lower lip at the praise, sharp enough to sting. Keith was hitting all his buttons tonight.
“Yes, I’m your slut, Keith, please- Please, it’s time for you to fill me up,” Lance breathed.
It seemed like Keith felt the same, if the way he was pressing his cock insistently against Lance’s ass and the backs of his thighs was any indication. Keith jiggled Lance’s globes in his hands, cock sliding between Lance’s cheeks to glance tantalizingly over his hole.
“I could paint your ass with my cum right now,” Keith warned. He was telling the truth, riding the edge despite not having so much as stroked himself, all his attention focused on Lance. He gripped the base of his cock to stem his arousal, squeezing slightly, tapping the head suggestively against Lance’s hole. His cockhead caught on Lance’s slippery rim, threatening to spear him open. Which, of course, was exactly what Lance wanted- no, needed.
Lance whined. “But I want you to cum inside me, please, Keith, please give me your cock!” He dropped impossibly lower on his elbows, face mushed against the silky sheets.
“You think you’re ready? You might need another finger…” Keith trailed off threateningly.
“No, now! Dame la verga, por favor, oh, Keith,” Lance cried. “Fuck me, fill me up, need your fat fucking cock, need it, need it.”
“Beg for it, my pretty little thing,” Keith demanded softly, continuing to languidly pump his fingers in and out of Lance’s hole, toying with Lance even as his own arousal pressed prominently against Lance’s ass.
Lance was going to cry. Keith was wrecking him. Lance felt like he would incinerate if he didn’t have Keith inside him in the next few minutes. What was there to do but comply?
“Pleaseee, baby,” he wailed. “Split this ass open, K-Keith, I’m so needy for you, I’m a slut, anything, please.” He sounded so agonized, Keith almost felt bad for what he was about to do. (Almost.)
“Whose slut?” he asked darkly, lining his cock up with Lance’s hole, just barely pressing the head in.
“YOURS!” Lance screamed, and okay, Keith spared a half-second thought to hope that these walls were soundproof, because as uninhibited as their host culture was, it was also absurdly late, and he didn’t need team Voltron acquiring a reputation for causing innocent bystanders to be sleep deprived because of their sexcapades. But he was too hard, too drunk on Lance’s moans, to care.
“Whose ass is this?” He continued, pushing in slowly. Not to the hilt, just enough to keep Lance gagging for it.
“Yours! Keith, I love it, romperme el culo, fóllame duro, I’m a fucking slut-” he was cut off with a choked gasp as Keith slammed his cock inside, burying himself balls deep. Lance’s walls were searing velvet, constricting Keith’s cock, drawing a moan from him as soon as he was fully seated in his lover. He slid back out about halfway before slamming back in again, mounting Lance with a primal intensity, fucking his claim into him.
The stretch was amazing, but on top of that Lance was carried away by the sheer presence of Keith- big hands spanning his hips, steadying him as Keith fed him his cock. The heat of Keith’s body pressed up against him.
Keith pistoned into him, fucking him with an animal focus, nailing his prostate on every thrust. Lance sobbed, overstimulated and loving it. He felt tears leaking from the corners of his eyes. The sound of their bodies clapping together echoed through the room pornographically. Keith snaked a hand up to Lance’s throat, not really choking him, just holding it there, feeling Lance’s throat bob and constrict as he moaned and gasped.
The other hand gripped Lance’s hip, guiding Lance as he practically fucked himself back on Keith’s throbbing cock.
Lance was moaning nonstop, and the noises had developed into guttural little huffs. His whole body thrummed with pleasure. “Please touch my cock,” he gasped.
“Why would I do that, darlin’? Don’t you remember what I said?” Keith punctuated his goading with a sharp thrust that had Lance wailing. “What did I say, baby? How will you cum?”
“On your cock,” Lance moaned.
“That’s right.” Slap. “So there’s no need for me to touch you, pretty,” he said softly, leaning forward to softly suck at the line of Lance’s jaw. “You’re so pretty, just like that for me, fuck,” he spewed praise into Lance’s ear. “You feel so tight around me.”
“Harder,” Lance shouted. “Baby, Keith, mas duro, fuck me hard!”
Keith held fast to Lance’s hip with one hand, rocking into his lover as Lance bounced off his dick. With the other hand- the one not covered in lube residue- he traced Lance’s lips, dipping his fingers into his lover’s eager mouth, which was open, panting. Lance accepted the fingers into his mouth without hesitation, sucking them deeper, hollowing his mouth around them, swirling his tongue on the pads of Keith’s fingers and making him gasp. “You’re amazing,” he said sincerely. “Wish you could see yourself like this, split open on my cock, sucking my fingers like a little slut.”
Lance moaned around said fingers, drool trailing down his chin, eyes leaking tears. “So pretty, stuffed full for me,” Keith whispered in a gravelly voice. “Good boy.”
At that, Lance cums, just like Keith said, on his cock alone. His cock twitches, shooting ropes of cum all over the sheets. He half-collapses, hips held up by Keith, who fucks him through his orgasm in long, slow strokes.
“Such a good boy for me,” Keith commends, pulling his still-hard shaft out of Lance’s abused hole, perversely delighted by its gape and flutter as Lance clenches around nothing.
“More,” Lance gasps, "I can take more.”
“I know, my love, I’m not done; don’t worry.” Keith flipped Lance on his back and reinserted his cock. Keith loved missionary, especially after drawing an orgasm out of Lance first. He loved seeing Lance’s expressions, watching him come undone beneath him, delirious and cock-drunk.
Lance, for his part, was sure Keith had alien stamina. Keith could often wring two, three, even four orgasms from Lance before cumming himself. Lance would be in shreds, crying from overstimulation, pleasure so intense that it bordered on painful, and Keith never even seemed to need to catch his breath. Instead, he interspersed their encounters with both bouts of rough fucking and moments of tender intimacy, such as now, when he gently kissed Lance, tracing circles in the warm skin just above his hipbones idly.
Lance’s leg was hiked up high, supported not by his own gelatinous muscles but by Keith’s grip, providing the perfect angle for Keith to drive directly into his prostate on every slow, languid thrust. Their fucking had slowed since Lance’s first orgasm, mellowing into a grinding, sensual rhythm as Keith played Lance’s body like an instrument. Keith’s free hand- the one not holding Lance’s leg aloft- sought out every inch of skin on his body, tracing lines along his thigh, hip, abdomen. Keith’s hot mouth kissed a line down Lance’s neck, across his collarbones.
Lance’s foot bobbed in the air next to Keith’s head as he held his leg aloft, fucking him open sensually. Keith pressed Lance’s foot to the side of his face, considered sucking Lance’s toes into his mouth like Lance had sucked on his fingers earlier. He discarded the thought just as quickly, thinking the position would tire Lance. Instead, he let his leg drop, focusing on spreading them open enough for Keith to thrust leisurely while allowing Lance to lie boneless beneath him. Keith wanted every part of Lance, wanted to put his mouth on every inch of skin on his body, wanted to press their flesh impossibly closer.
“Keith, Keith,” Lance pants breathlessly, lithe body laid out like a vision underneath him. His mouth hangs open as he gasps, choked little breaths following every thrust. He looks up at Keith with wet eyes, guileless. Keith, overcome with a surge of tender affection, captured his mouth in a wet, sloppy open-mouthed kiss, biting at Lance’s lower lip, sucking it into his mouth. His hand finally found Lance’s cock again, now wet with cum but hardening again. Keith was determined to eke a second orgasm from Lance before he filled his ass with his own spend. He gripped Lance’s cock loosely, thumb playing with the dusky head. He moved his wrist in tandem with the leisurely thrusts of his hips. Lance was always such a leaky mess, beading precum enough to wet a patch in the sheets even before he spilled, and Keith fucking loved it. Sometimes it made his mouth water. The heady mixture of cum, lube, and sweat that coated Lance’s cock and the inside of his thighs and ass made an obscene schlick schlick schlick sound with every pump. Keith’s dexterous fingers worked between their bodies, circling the base of Lance’s member, gently cupping and fondling his heavy balls. Keith dragged his fingers along Lance’s taint, perilously close to his rim, where they were bound together. Keith was intoxicated. Lance felt like he was about to cum again, clenching around Keith’s cock deliciously.
It isn’t long before Keith pulls a second orgasm from Lance. It sounds almost painful; Lance, red-faced, mewls weakly and spurts a meager dribble of cum along his stomach. Keith continues his thrusts into Lance’s sloppy hole, feeling the tell-tale sign of an encroaching orgasm burning hot and tight in his abdomen. His balls slap against Lance’s ass. His hips have stuttered in their rhythm, clapping off of Lance in erratic, shuddery bursts.
“I’m gonna cum, baby,” Keith moans, mouthing at Lance’s jaw and neck.
“Yes, yes, Keith, cum inside me. Wanna feel you fill me up,” Lance pleads, fucked-out and teary-eyed with overstimulation. “Wanna feel you leak out of me,” Lance pants, and that’s it; Keith is a goner. He cums with a yell, biting down hard on Lance’s neck as he does.
Keith remains pressed flush against a trembling Lance as he rides out the aftershocks of his orgasm, pumping his boyfriend’s ass full of cum. Lance can already feel it starting to drip down his thighs. He winces as Keith pulls out.
“You were so good for me, darlin,” Keith breathes, gently stroking his fingers over Lance’s hip. He rolled to the side, propped up on one arm, cognizance that they’d need to clean up in a moment warring with his desire to bask in the afterglow.
“Not as much as you,” Lance responded, voice groggy and fucked-out. “Fucked me real nice,” he grinned cheekily, eyes heavy-lidded. He lazily adjusted his stance on the mussed sheets, essentially flopping half-atop Keith, where he buried his face in Keith’s shoulder.
“Good, baby,” Keith said tenderly, stroking Lance’s cheek. Lance closed his eyes, half asleep already, leaning into Keith’s warm touch.
“Baby,” Keith said after a minute. Lance didn’t want to open his eyes. Ugh. But Keith’s fingers were firm and insistent. He blinked them open lazily.
“Wha?”
“We need to take a bath, love,” Keith gently insisted. Lance felt himself make a face, and Keith laughed. “You’ll hate me in the morning if you wake up covered in cum,” he continued.
Lance groaned, but began attempting to sit up. “Wouldn’t be the first time, though,” he griped.
Keith chuckled, soft, knowingly. “And you complained a lot then.”
“Carry me?”
Keith rolled his eyes. “You’re too heavy.”
Lance pouted, but moved to get up. Paused when he heard Keith speak again.
“But…”
Lance looked at him with those big doe eyes. “But what?” All the teasing was gone out of his voice, and Keith took a quiet satisfaction in the fact that he could basically fuck Lance into subdued compliance. (Never for long, of course.)
“But what?”
“I’ll wash your hair,” Keith finished. Lance smiled softly.
Keith fiddles with the bottles lining the bathtub while he runs the water. The tub itself is big and ornate, ensconced in pink tile and deep enough to sink up to your neck into. The bottles, he assumes, are things like bubble bath and shampoo- he didn’t think the Thriistiians had any hair, but maybe they kept it for other species. The labels are of course inscrutable, written in something that looks like wingdings. They smell like kiwi and- Keith wrinkles his nose. Used tires? He ends up retrieving Lance’s ridiculously overpriced coconut-scented travel shampoo.
When Lance sinks into the warm water, a visible weight comes off his muscles. He goes boneless in the hot steam, sighing. The bath doesn’t feel cramped even with two adult men (and neither of them were exactly scrawny).
Keith combs his fingers through Lance’s hair, working the shampoo into a lather and lightly scratching at his scalp. Lance practically purred in contentment.
They luxuriate until the water starts to cool. Lance, by this point, seems newly rejuvenated despite the visible bruises from Keith’s eager mouth purpling on his moist skin. Keith, on the other hand, feels his eyes fighting to stay open.
He steps out of the bathroom to locate a spare pair of boxers, leaving Lance to the banal business of toothbrushing and his night cream regiment. Keith aches absurdly with missing him, even though they literally weren’t even separated by a closed door. He couldn’t help it- he wanted Lance, all over him, all the time.
He loved watching Lance. Lance, drawing attention to himself on the dance floor. Lance, from across the room at diplomatic galas. Lance next to Keith as they watched a shitty romantic comedy that would have them both misty eyed. Lance, doing quotidian activities: sweeping the floor, changing the batteries in a remote, smiling at a picture of his Mom. Lance, now, putting on face cream.
Lance dipped his fingers in the cold jar, closing his eyes blissfully as he smeared the soothing cream across his under eyes. He felt a little puffy from the crying and the booze. (Not that he regretted any of it.)
“You bitched about getting up and made me wash you, and now you have enough energy to do your primadonna skincare routine?” Keith leaned against the doorframe, arms crossed, smirking. Lance’s gaze flicked down to the towel wrapped around Keith’s waist, and the dark trail of hair leading tantalizingly from his navel down to where it was covered by the plush white cloth. If Lance hadn’t been fucked practically insensate less than an hour before, he would have been able to go again right then and there.
“You loved washing me,” Lance argued. “Plus, we’re not getting any younger! It takes work to look this good!” He played up the diva role, jutting his hip out a little, rubbing a gua sha stone over his neck which was still tender from Keith’s bites and would doubtless be purple with hickies in the morning. “If anything, you could use some cream too!”
Keith raised a single eyebrow, grinning. “I think there’s been enough cream tonight.”
Lance rolled his eyes. “Real mature.”
“Coming from you.”
“Yeah, but when I’m juvenile it has a sort of witty charm! You love it!”
“Mmm. Love everything about you.”
Keith had found his place behind Lance and wrapped his arms around Lance’s torso, and was currently murmuring sweet endearments into the space between Lance’s shoulder blades, so Lance pretty much had to give up arguing.
“Pfft. Gay.”
Now it was Keith’s turn to roll his eyes. “I would hope so, considering we had literal anal sex, like, an hour ago,” he deadpanned.
“Somehow the anal is less gay than the pet names,” Lance retorted, flippantly spinning the cap on a night cream closed.
“Good thing I am gay,” Keith smiles dopily, “because I’m super in love with you. Which would be pretty awkward if I was straight.”
Lance chuckles, elbowing him lightly. “Brush your teeth. I wanna go to bed.”
“Bossy, bossy,” Keith muttered, rummaging for his toothbrush. (The rules of their color scheme would dictate his was red and Lance’s blue, but no; they were grey and green.)
“Me bossy?” Lance shrieked, gesturing exaggeratedly at himself, then at Keith. “You’re the one who was all oh, beg for it, oh, turn over, do this, do that.”
Keith rolls his eyes, spits his toothpaste. “And you were the one demanding me to fuck you harder, hurry up, et cetera. So maybe we’re both bossy.”
“Well, you started it,” Lance pouts.
“I clearly didn’t fuck you good enough if you have all this energy to bicker with me right now.”
At that, something in Lance must give out, some sort of mushy post-coital closeness overpowering his incessant drive to torment Keith, because he smiles softly and tugs Keith close, enveloping him in a warm embrace.
“No, you do a great job. The best,” Lance insists into Keith’s shoulder.
Keith drags him to bed in answer.
“Love you,” Lance mutters again a few minutes later, dozing off.
“I know, baby,” Keith whispers, kissing the crown of his head. “I Know.”