Archive of Our Own

So, there’s this bar.

It’s in space, like most bars Lance has frequented in the past year.

And it’s full of… different types of people. Different types of aliens (though Lance has come to recognize he’s actually the alien more cases than not and it might be rude to refer to them as such).

Anyway, there’s a bar and there’s aliens, that’s all the context you need to know. It’s a seedy little bar located in the furthest corner of the galaxy the castle ship is docked in this week and the paladins discovered it entirely by accident. The first time, they all go as a group, make a big joke out of the whole endeavor. Shiro jokingly monitors the youngin (Pidge) to make sure they don’t order any space alcohol off the menu, Hunk and Pidge criticize the karaoke performer on stage singing in gurgling baritones, Allura and Coran sing animatedly along, Keith broods in the corner of the booth like the social butterfly he always has been, and Lance…

Well, let’s just say Lance familiarizes himself with the other patrons from afar.

Almost everyone is an entirely unique species, probably all hailing from different planets and different galaxies, all coming together to meet up at their favorite bar and crack open a cold one with the boys. It is, more or less, the holy grail of hot non-human strangers and Lance can’t help himself from staring a little bit too hard. Inevitably, Hunk and Pidge look away from the performance long enough to tease Lance about his blatant ogling, and then Lance is begrudgingly sulking off to the bathroom to avoid their tormenting for a while.

That’s where he sees it.

Tucked away in the very back stall of the washrooms, there’s a hole in the wall. Just the right height and more or less the right size, though Lance reckons that the average dick in space is probably bigger than a human’s if the cut-out is anything to go by. The point is, there’s no debating what the hole is used for. He can’t read the writing scribbled around it in a foreign language, but he can certainly fucking piece it together with his critical thinking skills.

A glory hole. An alien glory hole. In outer space.

Sweet.

And, if Lance were a normal person with self-preservation instincts and even an ounce of common sense, this would be where the story ends. He would get off the toilet, wash his hands, leave the bathroom, and rejoin his friends as if nothing ever happened.

And he does. He does all of those things. 

But something did happen, something that settles low and fiery in his gut, something that has him licking his lips and desperately craving a sip of whatever that buff alien across the bar is drinking. His jeans feel too-tight and his head is spinning with ideas. Everyone else around the table is starting to loosen up and make a fun night out of the outing, but Lance’s eyes keep drifting back toward the bathrooms.

More than once, he catches Keith shooting him worried looks from across the table, but he just shrugs him off with a roll of his eyes. It works the first few times, but then Keith’s foot is tapping against his under the table. Lance all but growls, turning to face him with a scowl.

They lean in close together, whispering conspiratorially so the others don’t overhear them.

“What do you want , Kogane?”

“Did you forget something in the bathroom or something? You’re acting weird as fuck.”

“It’s nothing.” Lance grits out, glowering at him. Keith glares back just as sharply.

--

They’re scheduled to leave the galaxy tomorrow. Allura just broke the news to them over the comms, followed by an in-depth conversation about where they’re headed next that everyone participates in except for Lance. He stays uncharacteristically quiet, so quiet that Keith speaks up to ask him if his comms are working properly. It seems like some sort-of dig at Lance for not being more active in the process, so he grunts out an indifferent noise and tries his best to speak up more after.

His thoughts are far away though, in a dimly-lit bathroom stall, with cool tiles pressing into his knees.

He’s had a few days to dwell on it, to think about all the possibilities, and he’s decided that he’d rather be the one performing the act itself. He’s always been a lover, a giver to his core, and he knows he has a damn talented mouth when he’s put it to use in the past. He hasn’t had a single opportunity to do so since being thrown into outer space, but this is certainly one way to familiarize himself with the new hardware, to get a little bit more open toward it.

Besides, Lance has always loved sucking dick. He loves the weight of a cock resting heavy on his tongue, loves the build-up of tension in his own body, loves the praise it earns him whether it comes out in stilted moans or actual words. Lance loves being on his knees for another man. 

“Lance?” Keith’s voice is quiet, he sounds uncertain of himself. With good reason, considering he’s breaking their unspoken rule that they never express any care or affection toward each other. They have never said as much, but it’s part of their dynamic. Verbally, they’re cruel and callous, competitive to a fault with each other. Any emotions are to be expressed through actions and action alone. They don’t talk feelings. They don’t ask questions. “Are you sure you’re okay?”

“Why wouldn’t I be?”

“Keith just made a joke at your expense and you didn’t start squawking like an offended macaw, what gives? Something has to be up with you.”

“Nothing “gives”, I just have a lot on my mind right now.”

“Wow, as opposed to the usual cricket noises?” 

“Shut-up, Pidge.” Lance snaps, crossing his arms tightly over his chest. Something about the open-ended way Keith had posed his question sits with Lance though, makes him feel bad about being so dismissive when the other boy was only trying to reach out. Rivalry aside, they had been starting to get along better now, if only as a means to an end because they are teammates. “I’m fine, Keith. Don’t worry.”

--

With the knowledge that they're leaving the galaxy to go who knows where tomorrow, all of Lance’s recent fantasizing comes to a head late that night while everyone else is asleep in their own rooms. He finds himself lying awake in bed, staring angrily up at the ceiling, uncomfortably hard in his boxers.

Obviously, he knew that this whole plan came with an expiration date, it was just something else to be staring it in the face so plainly. He was running out of time, plain and simple.

And while up until this point he’d only ever thought of it as a passing thought, something that appealed to him in theory but would never happen in practice… something about the deadline has Lance starting to rethink that. He’s panicking. He doesn’t want to miss this opportunity, in case he might never find one like this again.

He’s horny. So pathetically horny. He has been since he came to outer space, more or less. Going from a couple partners a week in a hormone-fueled school such as the Garrison, to a deserted wasteland of a sex life in a castle ship with only six other people? It’s a big loss.

Lance misses being intimate with someone other than his own hands. He misses the soft affection, the genuine appreciation, the passion-fueled embraces. He wants it all. Hard or rough, it doesn’t matter. He doesn’t even care anymore if he recognizes the thing being shoved at him as being a cock, he’ll suck it off anyway. Risks of fornicating with another species be damned, damn it, Lance wants to suck dick!

So, with a steely determination, Lance sneaks out of his room and through the halls of the castle. He climbs into Red and gently shushes her probing questions, obviously concerned that they’re leaving the rest of the “pride” (team) behind. Lance can’t really explain why, but she seems to trust him enough to let him fly her out into the open space anyway. He’s endlessly thankful, as he soars toward the bar in mind.

--

The bar is busy tonight, bustling with so many people that Lance instantly feels himself light up further with excitement. This is going to work, he’s sure of it. He can’t fight the smile from his face as he heads straight to the bathrooms, not even bothering to mingle or buy himself time. He’s riding high on adrenaline and he’s pretty sure he’d die if he ordered the wrong thing off the bar menu, so he has to go into this exactly as he is. Sober, ridiculously horny, and prepared for maybe the strangest or hottest encounter of his life. 

He slides into his chosen bathroom stall at the very end, sinks down to his knees all-sultry like and peers through the hole. Expectedly, there isn’t a cock waiting on the other side for him, and the stall next door is completely empty. He gives an impatient little huff and falls back to sit on his ass, situating himself for what could be a bit of a wait.

Lance isn’t exactly sure about the passage of time in space, but it has to have been at least an hour at this point and there still hasn’t been any action on the other side of the door. He’s leaning back, legs stretched out across the whole stall and held up above his head, feet rotating like he’s riding an invisible bike. He’s still poised and ready to go, but the adrenaline is wearing off slowly, and he isn’t horny as much as he’s annoyed at this point.

Much, much later and Lance has all but given up. It has to be nearing the time the paladins are usually forced to wake for breakfast and then training, but Lance can’t bring himself to go home. His impatience has given way to disappointment, heavy and suffocating, settled in his chest. He can’t believe he went through all this trouble and snuck out, only to have nothing to show for it. It’s pathetic.

Lance peels himself off the floor, scowling at the dirty feeling that clings to him even through the layers of his clothes. He plops himself down on the toilet seat, leans over himself and buries his face in his hands, letting out a shuddering breath. He’s never taken rejection well, and even though tonight hadn’t even been direct, it’s still a soul-shattering feeling. The feeling of being unwanted still constricts around him, even with the veil of anonymity to hide behind. 

Sucking guys off in a bathroom glory hole is far from a personal act, but it feels like it is.

A few minutes pass him by and Lance has brought himself back from the verge of tears over something so stupid, thankfully. He’s getting ready to admit defeat and head out, maybe get back in time to make breakfast and avoid any unwanted questioning, but then he hears it. 

The long squeal of the hinges as the door next to him opens and then closes again.

Lance freezes, eyes glued to the hole in the wall. 

From where he’s sitting, he can just barely make out the shuffle of movement through the hole, hear fabric rustling. Lance’s heart begins to race, but he tries not to get his hopes up. It’s very possible this person is just here to do their business and Lance is being a total pervert for even putting these expectations onto them. 

He forces himself to avert his eyes, stare down at the grooves in the tiles. 

For a long moment, there’s nothing but silence from the other side of the door. Lance doesn’t know what to make of it. He concentrates harder, really strains himself, and he can hear the faintest of sounds. Wet, the slide of skin against skin, not entirely unlike when he jerks himself off.

Fuck. Okay. This is happening. Lance is pretty sure this isn’t your average bathroom pervert here to get himself off, this has to be someone with intent to come to that stall in specific. 

He can feel himself growing hard again in his jeans, his previous erection long wilted from the hours of waiting for this. But now that it’s here, the adrenaline spikes, the lust pools low, and it’s all Lance can do to keep his mouth from watering.

A minute passes and Lance is growing antsy, lowers himself onto the floor and slides closer to the hole, maybe to try and catch a glimpse, maybe not. He doesn’t even get the chance to try and peek through, the second he settles on the ground it happens. The stranger starts feeding their cock through the hole in the wall, real slow about it, inch after inch.

Oh fuck yeah, that is an alien dick. 

The skin color itself is surprisingly similar to what one might see on Earth, just a generic pale peachy color, with the faintest of mottled purple that almost makes it look bruised. That’s not the part that has Lance immediately licking his lips, eyes alight with wonder. 

It’s huge. Huge enough that it nearly hits him in the face before he gets a grip and leans backward to avoid it. The head is flared, but the tip itself is long and pointed, visibly pulsing where it leaks pre-cum in a steady ooze. There’s so much of the stuff, it drips onto the floor between them in droplets, a small puddle already gathering. At the very least, Lance hopes alien semen tastes good because he’s gonna be guzzling a lot of it if that’s anything to go by.

He leans back further, tilting his head curiously to the side, getting the full 360 view of the thing. Oh .

It’s sort-of… painful looking. Little spines lining the entire underside of it, like tiny barbs. But, as Lance throws caution to the wind and experimentally pokes at one, it gives easily under the pressure, like cartilage or something. It’s enough that he’ll certainly feel them, but not enough that they’ll cause him any damage. He imagines the drag of them along his tongue, how it would feel to trace between them and familiarize himself.

Selfishly, he imagines what it’d feel like inside his ass, rubbing up against his inner walls and catching on his rim. Fuck . Lance is dangerously horny right now.

Apparently the person on the other side is too, because they’re humping forward against the wall with an audible thud, just barely making the tip of their cock graze Lance’s cheek. He reaches up, wipes away the slime left behind, carefully pushes his fingers past his lips and sucks it off. It’s not that far off from human pre-cum, aside from the fact it leaves his mouth with a tingling sensation, like spearmint or pineapple. It doesn’t hurt though, as much it makes his nerves feel alight and sensitive, like he’s too aware of his lips all of the sudden.

Lance doesn’t stop to think twice over what the sensation might mean, only hopes for the best and dives forward with eagerness anew. All he knows is how addicting the feeling is, how he wants to taste it drip down his throat. He’s wanted this for so long, feels like he’s been missing a crucial part of his life since coming to space. He used to do this three times a week with different partners, sleeping around was a huge part of his life.

So now he’s determined to put his all into this instance, make up for lost time, and the possibility he might not get another chance like this.

He wraps his lips around the tip and takes it into his mouth, moaning lowly around the stretch. The stranger’s hips stutter forward, threatening to shove their cock in deeper whether Lance is ready for it yet or not. Lance hardly needs to be rushed along though, not now that he’s feeling so incredibly impatient for it.

His lips follow down the length of the cock, guiding it to the back of his throat. The slide isn’t nearly as smooth as it is with a human partner, his bottom lip catching on each ridge, pulled taut against it. It just serves as a constant reminder of what he’s doing though, works to elicit a sick thrill in his gut.

The person on the other side of the wall grunts as they bottom out inside Lance’s warm, wet mouth, his lips pressed tightly around the base to hold it there. The pointed tip slots into Lance’s throat, goes back much deeper than any other cock he’s ever sucked, has him struggling to swallow around it and the steady drip of pre-cum down the back of his tongue.

Slowly, he pulls off and starts the process anew, taking the stranger into his mouth over and over again. 

He gets lost in the sensation, in the heady scent of sex, in the weight of it on his tongue, in the praise in the form of pleased stifled noises each time he pushes himself to take more, to suck harder. 

It only really adds to the sensation as his entire mouth goes pleasantly tingly, like pins and needles, but much more sensitive than that. He feels like he can feel everything, every twitch and ridge he traces his tongue over, it’s like an extension of himself.

Lance won’t lie, he definitely finds himself missing the personal aspect of giving head. He misses hands tangled in his hair and tugging him along, he misses the other party setting the pace and fucking into his mouth in short little controlled thrusts, he misses the whispered words of praise and his name. It’s not quite the same, but it’s the closest thing he’s had in so long, he’ll take what he can get.

It’s not all bad either, there’s something about the anonymity and the public atmosphere that has him feeling hotter under his clothes than he ever has. His own cock is straining against his jeans, throbbing against the fabric of his boxers, probably leaking a stain into them. Lance reaches down to pop open the button, pulling off the cock in his mouth with a wet gasp. 

He heaves in a few deep breaths, as he pulls himself out and gives a few quick tugs on his cock.

After setting a steady rhythm, Lance dives back in to take the cock deep. He doesn’t stop until the tip is in the back of his throat again, swallows around where it’s pulsing and leaking, whimpers quietly as the stranger slams a hand against the wall between them with force. 

Lance jerks himself off harder, fast and sloppy, bordering on the edge of too rough. It’s the fastest way to get himself there, and he wants to come at the same time as his partner. If the way the cock in his mouth has taken to twitching, it won’t be long now before he runs out of time.

He’s only just started to pull back off, fighting against the gentle resistance of those barbs against the flat of his tongue, when the first jet of cum shoots down his throat. Lance nearly chokes, startled by the force of it, by the amount. He closes his lips around the cock tighter, suckles on the head as it jerks and spills into his mouth. It’s a ridiculous amount, enough that Lance is struggling to draw a breath through his nose, swallowing over and over again.

As if on cue, Lance feels his orgasm hit him out of nowhere, like a punch to the gut. He collapses forward, takes the cock in his mouth inadvertently deeper as he curls in on himself. He rocks weakly into his hand as he loses himself to the sensation, cum spilling over his knuckles and his shirt. He can’t bring himself to care though, as he rides out the ecstacy of feeling so full, finally feeling wanted again.

The stranger starts to pull back before Lance has even fully come down, but he doesn’t fight it, just opens his jaw wide and lets the cockhead trace to the tip of his tongue before retreating further. It’s pulled back through the hole, and Lance is too blissed out to bother trying to sneak a peek after it.

“Fuck.” The stranger groans out, low and throaty, so heavy with arousal that it has Lance dribbling into his palm again in another weak pulse. He squeezes his hand tighter around himself, a giddy smile stretching across his face. He tips his head back, giggles breathlessly as he stares up at the overhead lights.

He sits there basking in the moment for just a few seconds, before getting a grip on himself enough to grab some toilet paper to clean his mess. He tucks his dick away afterward, stands on shaky legs. He glances toward the hole, but there’s no sign of movement on the other side of the door.

Lance isn’t exactly sure what the proper glory hole etiquette is, figures he should probably be the last to leave in this situation. He’s running late as it is though, and the other party doesn’t seem to be making any effort to get a move on, so Lance ducks out of the stall and does the walk of shame over to the sinks.

If he hesitates a little bit longer than necessary as he washes his hands, eyes glued to the reflection of that stall in the mirror, hoping to maybe catch a glimpse at his risque lover… well, that’s nobody’s business.

Especially because he doesn’t catch a glimpse. And he’s left to leave just like that. No answers, no face to put with the cock he’d just sucked, no goodbye.

--

It isn’t until he’s back in the pilot seat and flying Red home, thinking back on the entire exchange, that Lance realizes that the alien spoke English . Even just enough to know the word “fuck” is impressive, considering hardly any aliens have actually been to Earth. Lance is so used to Altean tech translating things for him that he doesn’t think twice anymore when he can immediately and flawlessly communicate with an alien. Usually, it’s more of a shock when he can’t .

But tonight he hadn’t been wearing his helmet, his lion was parked far enough away that it couldn’t have helped, and he was nowhere near the castle.

The alien must have actually spoke in English… somehow.

--

Lance lands Red and barely even gives himself any time to bask in the moment, just bolts toward the dining hall at the first opportunity. He doesn’t want to be late and he’s cutting it pretty close, though he thinks he might have just enough time if he hurries. He changed into a clean outfit on the way back, did a quick once-over of his appearance, and now he just has to sit through a meal with everyone else and act like he didn’t just perform the lewdest act of his life.

Easy peasy.

Wouldn’t be the first time, likely won’t be the last.

The dining hall is blissfully empty as he slides into his usual seat, makes himself comfortable there. The only other sign of life is the distant hum of Hunk coming down the hallway, and that’s how Lance knows he has it made. Shiro is usually the first one awake, but he spends forever in his morning shower. Hunk, on the other hand, is the second one awake and the first one to seek out breakfast. Lance is fitting into the schedule a little earlier than he normally would, but that hopefully isn’t as suspicious as being late.

“Morning.” Hunk flashes Lance a grin, as he sets the machine to start brewing the closest thing to coffee one can find in space. Lance follows Hunk into the kitchen, helps himself to a heaping bowl of food goo, and settles back in his seat. He eats it slowly, wanting to make sure he’s here when everyone else arrives, so no one has any suspicions whatsoever.

Shiro joins Lance at the table next, freshly-showered and wearing a clean t-shirt.

Coran after him, who immediately strikes a conversation with Lance and keeps him busy.

Allura then, graceful and poised, nothing like a person that just rolled out of bed.

Pidge, on the other hand, looks like a bird has been nesting in their hair as they settle at the opposite head of the table and make it their own.

Hunk sits down to join them finally, starting up an easy conversation. 

From that point on, the only sound to fill the room is that of metal forks and ceramic dishes. It almost reminds Lance of mornings in his massive household, everyone eating cereal together before going to school. The atmosphere is much the same, tired but lighthearted. It’s the calm before the storm that is the rest of their day. 

“Keith, you’re late.” Shiro speaks up, a hint of worry behind the observation. Lance jerks up immediately and watches as Keith slides silently into the seat next to him, like some sort-of snake. He already has a bowl full of food goo somehow, so he just starts wolfing it down without missing a beat. He eats so fast it’s like he’s trying to catch up to how far ahead of him everyone else is.

“Sorry, lost track of time. I was just out for a morning flight.”

“You shouldn’t overwork yourself.” Shiro says, but it’s easy to tell that beneath the chastising tone, there’s only pride. It’s always like that when Shiro talks to Keith, it’s like he doesn’t have a mean bone in his body, especially lately. He just saturates him with praise for all the progress he’s made as a leader.

“Your commitment to flying really pays off, your bond with Black is strengthening by the day. I’m thoroughly impressed.” Allura adds suddenly, eager to butt into the conversation.

“Thanks, Allura.” Keith looks up and grins at her, wide and dimpled, far too intense of an expression for such a stupid compliment. Lance feels a pang of something in his chest, uncomfortable and ugly, rearing its head in a way he can’t stand. He sinks down in his seat, glowers at his empty bowl. He should probably just leave before this ruins his whole day.

What is Keith doing anyway? Allura definitely isn’t his type. If they start hooking up then Lance is not sticking around here, no way, no how. Nightmare power couple.

“You have food goo on your chin.” Lance points out snidely, eyes set in a glare. Keith gives him a strange look, but reaches up and wipes it off with a napkin nonetheless. And then, the utter fucking bastard, turns and smiles at Lance. Bright and blinding, so wide it has the corners of his eyes crinkling, the purple of his irises swimming with sparkles. Fuck.

“Thanks, Lance.” Keith breathes out, so genuine it hurts. Lance leans back, eyes widening in confusion at just how horribly his meddling has been misinterpreted. That’s never happened before.

“I wasn’t trying to-” 

“What’s got you so smiley today? It’s weird.” Pidge interrupts, asking the question everyone must by dying to know the answer to at this point. Lance certainly is, even if he can’t begin to form words and string it together himself. He’s never seen Keith like this, all loose and relaxed, grinning shamelessly like he has all the confidence in the world.

“I’m just having a good morning, that’s all.” Keith snickers after he says it, wordlessly scooping another bite of food goo into his mouth. Lance watches as he licks his lips clean, pink tongue darting out to clear away any excess food. His little Galra fangs poke out behind his top lip, and not for the first time Lance wonders how he manages to eat without those things getting in the way and nipping his tongue.

There are definite pros to being an alien, and then there are the cons. Poor Keith didn’t seem to get anything out of the mixture other than a couple of uncomfortably pointy teeth.

Well, nothing visible.

… Wait a fucking second .

“Seriously? That’s the vaguest answer of all time.” Pidge is not impressed. Lance is still staring at Keith, but he can’t bring himself to look away. He studies every micro-reaction, anything that could be any sort-of hint at all. Keith just keeps grinning that dopey little grin, far too satisfied for the context. 

What are the chances anyway? Assuming Keith even had an alien dick, he hardly seems like the type to go shoving it into random holes he finds in bathroom stalls. No, Lance is definitely making a mountain out of a molehill, there’s no chance he’s actually-

“Alright, fine.” Keith breathes, toying with his spoon against his lips. “I tried something new today.”

“Like, in your lion?”

“Yeah.” Keith nods, and maybe to everyone else it seems convincing, but not to someone that can read between the lines. Lance is spiralling. “You know, like a quadruple flip nose-dive type deal. The sort-of thing that would make Hunk spew his guts.”

“Sweet, congrats dude. You must be pretty proud?”

“Yeah… it felt really good. Better than I expected.” Keith laughs, shaking his head fondly, long strands of messy black hair falling into his face. Lance begins to hyperventilate. Surely someone else has to be hearing the obvious innuendos here?! Keith has never talked about flying his lion like this .

“You’ll have to show us later.” Pidge suggests, an excitement showing in their eyes.

“Ha, yeah.” Keith says, but it’s quiet, under his breath. He looks back down at his food, a private little smirk on his lips. Lance can tell because he’s been staring at those lips for ten minutes now, agonizing over them, over the slope of sharp teeth. “I’m not sure Shiro would approve of my methods.”

Lance can’t take another fucking second of this.

“Oh my fucking god.” Lance blurts, hands slamming down onto the table with enough force to jostle all the glassware and leave it rattling even after he turns away. He stomps out of the room, audibly retching as he goes, clutching his stomach to keep the contents of his stomach down. “I’m going to be sick.”

“ Lance ?” Hunk calls, concerned for him.

“Real mature, jackass.” Keith calls, showing far less concern than he should be.

 --

Listen, at this point it’s only a theory. 

But it’s not like he can confirm nor deny anything, not when Keith is such an intensely private person. To be perfectly honest, Lance has never even seen what his fucking hands look like underneath those stupid gloves he wears, there’s no way in hell he’s caught a glimpse of Keith in any state of undress past that. He showers in his private bathroom after training, every time without fail, even when everyone else gave in and started using the massive public locker rooms adjacent to where they train.

It’s only been a month or so since they found out about Keith’s heritage in the first place. Things are still the slightest bit tense, especially now that the war has slowed down enough for them to regroup and spend time in close quarters together. Allura is back on speaking terms with Keith but that’s it, Keith has been visiting the Blade of Marmora base to reconnect with his roots or whatever, and Shiro is settling back into the team as best as he can with Black still refusing to accept him.

The point is, no one is addressing the elephant in the room. No one really brings it up, Keith dodges the question and runs off to the Marmora base whenever it comes up, and everyone else is just content to leave it alone. Aside from Allura for her own reasons, the team accepted Keith easily, no one had any qualms about what blood he had running in his veins. He’s still Keith. 

He’s still their Keith. Dorky, awkward, desperate for approval underneath all those layers of hardass.

And Lance is starting to think he sucked dorky, awkward Keith’s dick two ways to Sunday.

“Ugh!” Lance groans, slamming his head against the nearest wall. 

“You’re gonna kill the few brain cells you have left doing that, yanno.” Pidge comments from where they’re settled on the floor, reading some manner of trashy romance novel. Lance gives them the finger and walks over to the couch, settling on the end opposite from Hunk and propping his feet up on the big guy’s lap. He sighs, long and hard, begging for attention.

“Lance, we know something’s been bothering you all week, would you just spill already!” Hunk jabs his thumb into the arch of Lance’s foot a bit too harshly for it to be disguised as a massage. Lance yelps.

“I can’t!”

“Why?!”

“It’s not my secret to tell!” Lance huffs out, crossing his arms over his chest. It truly isn’t, it’s not his place at all to talk about the alien dick that Keith may or may not be packing. Clearly Keith doesn’t want them to know if he’s gone to such great lengths to hide it. That or Lance’s theory is completely incorrect and he’ll look like a fucking idiot for even bringing it up, which seems far more likely.

“Well, go to a confessional booth or something, you need to get this off your chest before you drive the rest of the team insane. Your stress is making the lions antsy at this point, dude.”

Lance gives a long drawn-out whine, tipping his head back to look around upside-down. His eyes widen as he watches Keith come strolling into the kitchen across from them, eyes set in determination as he makes quick work of seeking out the juice pouches. He’s wearing that fucking uniform the Blade gave him, hardly ever takes it off, he’s so proud. Allura is the slightest bit offended he prefers it to the ancient Altean armor, though she hasn’t voiced as much. 

Lance is also offended by it, but for his own reasons.

He rolls over onto his stomach, perching his chin on the arm rest as he gives himself a better view. Keith has his back turned to them, stretching on his tippy toes to reach the very top shelf of the cupboards, in search of the forbidden snack food Hunk stashes away up there. Lance’s gaze follows the long curve of his back, the swell of his hips, and then settles where it always does. It’s fucking inhumane how good Keith’s ass looks in that uniform. All supported and framed, a cute little bubble butt, so out of place above those intimidating muscular thighs. Lance sighs longingly.

Keith chooses that moment to turn around, a cookie package caught between his teeth as he tries to rip it open like the animal he surely is. His eyes widen when they meet Lance’s and Lance sits upright like a bolt, tense as can be as Keith walks over and plops down onto the couch next to him.

Between the big bad Zarkon fight and Keith spending so much time away from the team, it’s not often he joins them in their chill hang-outs anymore. Hell, it’s not often Lance has seen him or talked to him at all really. At first because Lance was avoiding him, but now he doesn’t get an honest chance to.

“Hey guys.” Keith says, plopping a pre-packaged dried out cookie into his mouth and crunching down. 

“What’s up, man?” Pidge looks up at him, giving a quick nod of acknowledgment before going back to their book. Keith leans back, throwing his arms across the back of the couch on either side of him. They fall behind Hunk’s shoulders as well as Lance’s, it’s clear he doesn’t mean a damn thing by it, but Lance begins to sweat all the same.

“Not much. I learnt a lot with the Blades this week, I’m starting to get to know a couple of them.” Keith says, tucking his legs underneath himself, getting comfortable. His gloved hand brushes Lance’s shoulder and he chokes on his own saliva. “There’s this one guy, Ulkertz? He’s sort-of taken me on as his liege. It’s pretty neat shadowing him, seeing what it’s like for an average member of the Blade. Only thing is he’s working me to the fucking bone. God, every session with him leaves me aching for days. My muscles are all so strained, I think I’m gonna spend the next week in bed.”

Keith is in a rare chatty mood and as much as Lance would love to entertain that, to encourage him and enthuse with him over all the things he’s learning… Lance can’t speak. Keith is squirming uselessly next to him, arching his back real prettily to try and crack it, stretching out his overused muscles. Lance can’t help the way his eyes are glued to the movement.

That, in itself, would be bad enough. Pair it with the fact Lance can feel his cock stirring to attention in his jeans, and it’s disastrous. He’s on his feet in an instant, stammering uselessly, not even forming a single word in the form of an excuse. Then he’s gone. Out of the room in an instant. Far, far, away. Down the hall, around the corner, into a closet, and panting to catch his breath afterwards.

Oh god, that was bad. Lance didn’t have a semblance of calm about him. It was his first real chance to really interact with Keith in a long time, to start trying to repair the gap he’d bridged while he was avoiding him like the plague leading up to the Zarkon battle. But no, Lance botched it, like he botches everything. He can’t even do an anonymous gloryhole blowjob right. 

--

Look, it’s not that Lance hates Keith. 

They’re past that stage in the relationship, everyone on the team knows the rivalry is just for show at this point, it’s more of an ongoing running gag than rooted in genuine feelings. Lance knows he doesn’t hate Keith, not really. And Keith knows that Lance doesn’t hate him, probably.

It’s just, well, not hating someone and wanting to suck someone’s dick are at total opposite ends of the spectrum. Whether it’s a sweet alien schlong or not.

--

Lance is dropped into a crouch, blaster at the ready as he eyes the vast outstretch of the hologram the training room has generated up for him. There are enemies in the distance, congregating, searching for him in vain. He’s hidden well here. No one could ever hope to find him hidden in the bushes, perched at the top of the cliff face, ready to pull the trigger and-

“Hey Lance.”

“K-Keith?!” Lance jumps, bayard clattering to the floor with enough racket that every enemy turns to look in their direction at once. Lance yelps, yelling for the simulation to end before the bullets can rain down in his direction. The hologram disappears in an instant and then he’s just kneeling there, with Keith crouched at his side, searching his face for something in an empty room. “What are you doing here?”

“Uh, well, I was hoping to train.” Keith grins. “Is that okay?”

“Go ahead, I was just leaving.” Lance gets to his feet, grabbing his bayard up on the way. He turns to make his way toward the locker room, but freezes when he hears footsteps falling beside his.

“You sure you can’t push yourself a little bit further? I was really hoping to have a sparring partner, the bots are getting a little bit old.” Keith slings his sword over his shoulder, shifts his weight onto one hip. “What do you say, right hand man? Think you can beat me now that I have all these sick Marmora moves under my belt?”

And it’s so painstakingly obvious how hard Keith is trying to seem casual, to match Lance’s usual teasing and fill the empty space in their relationship where Lance’s bravado would be pushing them forward, pushing them together, just constantly pushing. This isn’t Keith at all. The too-wide smile can only hide the hopeful glint in his eyes so well.

“Not today, dude.” Lance offers a much thinner close-mouthed smile in response, strained.

--

Hindsight is 20/20, yadda yadda yadda, mistakes have been made that can’t be undone… Lance is starting to think maybe this rivalry thing was just a piss-poor cover up for his other, very genuine feelings all along. He definitely feels some type of way as Keith repeatedly and hopelessly approaches him, trying to smooth things over and bridge the gap. It’s good to feel wanted, to feel desired, and the fact that it’s Keith chasing after Lance for a change has him feeling all sorts of fluttery and nervous.

God, for so long Keith never showed him the time of day and now he’s practically begging for Lance’s attention.

Maybe he’s onto him, has a theory of his own, wants Lance to put his mouth to work again.

But Keith’s attempts are a far stretch from flirty, they’re just a little bit lost and needy, waiting on Lance to lead the way and set the standard. Except Lance never does, because he’s too busy running away.

--

The place that Keith finally manages to corner him really shouldn’t have come as a surprise, all things considered. Whether Lance wants to admit it or not, they’re pretty close friends, and they live together after all. Keith knows his schedule down to the tiniest detail. He strikes at the perfect time, when Lance is at his most vulnerable… mid skin-care routine.

The horror of it all.

It’s supposed to be Lance’s happy place, the best part of every day. He’s perched on the counter in the locker rooms, wearing loose pajama pants and no shirt, leaning in close to the mirror to examine his pores as he spreads product over his skin. His eyes flutter shut at some point and he’s completely relaxed, basking in the quiet of the room, the moisture in the air. The only sound is the quiet drip of the taps, droplets of water hitting porcelain over and over again.

Lance is at peace for all of two minutes before footsteps walk into the room. He doesn’t even have to open his eyes to recognize who it is. He knows those footsteps anywhere, confident and sure, heavy steps weighed down by obnoxious combat boots. Lance exhales a heavy breath through his nostrils.

Still, he doesn’t move from where he’s sitting, refuses to let this be a thing.

But Keith doesn’t go to the urinals or the showers like a normal person, just walks straight up to the sinks and plops something down on the counter by Lance’s feet. There’s the quiet click of a bottle opening and Lance can’t take the curiosity anymore, he cracks an eye open. 

Keith is leaning over the sinks, glaring at himself in the mirror almost angrily. He tilts his head from one side to the other, fingers grazing across the light scruff on his jaw. And then the bastard grabs one of the bottles he set down on the counter, starts spreading shaving cream across his jawline. Lance can’t help it, he starts to smile.

He figures it’s fair game to stare, considering Keith purposely chose the sink right next to Lance’s, rather than any of the other ten or so along the same wall. So stare Lance does, leans back as he lets the face mask harden, watches as Keith drags the razor neatly across his skin. It’s a straight razor, because who would Keith be if he didn’t go for the sharpest and most over the top blade in any given situation? But he handles it like a pro, like he has a history of working in a barber shop or some shit.

He’s meticulous about it, and only now Lance realizes how rare it is to see Keith with so much as a five o’clock shadow on his face. There’s something about watching Keith, jaw clenched tight and eyes zeroed in with animal-like intensity, handling such a dangerously sharp tool with ease… Lance is kinda feeling it.

And not just because he didn’t bother to throw anything on under his pajama pants and freeballing it always makes him naturally horny.

By the time Keith finishes, Lance is ready to slide off the counter and start rinsing his face mask off.

He leans over the sink, splashes water onto his face with none of the grace of an Olay commercial, and stays vaguely aware of the fact that it’s now Keith watching him work. He doesn’t try to make a show out of it, doesn’t do anything more than he normally would. He just scrubs the green gunk off and watches as it spirals down the drain. Then he stands, examines himself in the mirror. 

In the corner of the reflection, he can see Keith fumbling with another bottle of product. Lance finds it vaguely familiar and for a moment, he wonders if Keith snatched something from his side of the counter, which is one hell of an argument waiting to happen. But when Lance whirls around to face him, he only starts to laugh.

“Whatcha doin’ there, Keith?” Lance asks, his voice bordering on teasing. Keith starts to scowl, the expression only deepening the longer he struggles to figure out how to open the bottle.

“Skincare.”

“Wow.” Lance breathes, fanning himself with his hand. Keith shoots him a withering look and before Lance can remind himself that he’s supposed to be avoiding interaction with Keith at all costs, he’s holding a hand out to help. Keith hands the bottle over, leans back and crosses his arms over his bare chest, sulking.

Lance looks down at the bottle in his hands, smile widening. It really is stupid. Keith is stupid. The lengths he’s going to to try and fix things between them is starting to be too much for Lance’s poor heart to handle. “Is this the stuff I bought for Pidge months ago?” 

“No?” Keith tries, but it sounds more like a question than an answer.

Lance tosses the bottle aside, down the counter, out of their way. Lance turns back to his own products, grabs his usual moisturizer and starts slowly applying it to his face. Keith shifts awkwardly beside him, looking the slightest bit peeved that Lance isn’t making this easier on him. Lance sighs, eventually caving and offering up an explanation.

“Pidge has oily acne-prone skin and that’s a really intense treatment for it. You have sahara-desert levels of dry skin and you just shaved. You need moisturizer, dude.” Lance informs him, meeting his gaze in the mirror. Keith gives him a hopeless look, completely lost. He’s been sort-of lurking behind Lance this entire time, no excuse to keep him here anymore, but very plainly not wanting to leave yet.

Lance straightens up once he’s finished, turns to Keith with a hand on his hip. “That isn’t the formula you should be using, let’s put it that way. If you’re gonna pretend to be interested in skin care, at least put in the barest amount of research.”

“I’m trying , Lance.” There’s just something so desperate about Keith’s voice, like a dam of unspoken emotions are pouring into each of the words he speaks. Lance is taken aback for a moment. He doesn’t even have to elaborate, doesn’t have to explain what he’s trying to do here. They both know it has nothing to do with skincare. None of this does. That’s not why Keith’s here, trying his best to appeal to one of Lance’s very specific interests.

He looks so out of his element, but damn it, is he ever trying. He’s still here, isn’t blowing up and storming away the second someone accuses him of not immediately understanding. He’s still there, with a begrudging willingness to learn because he wants this to work so very badly. 

Lance sighs, turning back to his own products and snatching up his personal moisturizer again.

“This is something more generic, you can’t really go wrong with it.” Lance offers, holding it out to him with the barest hint of a smile. Keith takes it eagerly, with a gentleness that is unlike himself, so very respectful of the stupid bottle of product that Lance can’t even begin to stifle his chuckle.

“And I just smear it everywhere?” Keith asks, in typical Keith fashion, hesitating to even dump any of the product into his palm before he knows for sure what he’s doing. Lance debates trying to explain it to him, but in the end he can’t bring himself to stand there and watch Keith flounder anymore. It’s too pathetic, too cute, Lance can’t take it.

“Come here.” Lance hops back up onto the counter, spreads his legs and gestures for Keith to step into the space he’s made. Keith does, very visibly nervous, and hands the bottle back to Lance. Lance grabs the hair tie off of Keith’s wrist, uses it to tie his hair up on top of his head in the messiest bun of all time.

Then, Lance gives his hands a quick wash and dries them, squirting a healthy dollop of moisturizer into his palms. He leans in close, eyebrows pinched together in concentration as he gently dips his fingers into the substance and starts smoothing it across Keith’s face. He rubs it gently into his skin, humming under his breath. Keith’s eyes fall heavily closed, dark eyelashes fanning out across high cheekbones.

Lance gets so caught up in the process, he totally forgets all of the tension between them, forgets to even admire the pretty face that’s gone pliant beneath his touch. It isn’t until Keith’s lips curl into a smile and he speaks up that Lance reorients himself.

“This is nice.” It’s gentle, so very gentle, like Keith is scared of breaking the moment they’re having.

“It better be, it’s the most expensive stuff I have. I use it on a daily basis.” 

“No, I meant-” Keith’s thick eyebrows scrunch together in self-directed annoyance, as he clearly struggles to find the right words. Lance feels sympathy envelope him, his touches straying from strictly applying product, venturing into soothing territory as he strokes his pointer finger down the hollow of Keith’s cheek. Keith relaxes visibly. “It’s nice to spend time with you again. I was wondering if things would ever go back to normal between us.”

It’s Lance’s turn to go tense. 

He leans back, deciding his work is finished (has been finished for nearly a minute, if he’s being completely honest), and then he drops his hands back to the counter for support. 

“W-What do you mean? Things have been normal all along.”

“Lance, come on.” Keith gives him this look, one eyebrow raised and a crooked smile, skepticism written all across his face. He drops his hand to Lance’s leg, squeezes his knee. Lance stares down at where he’s being touched, feels like fire spreads from the spot. Suddenly, he feels like this is far too compromising of a position to be in. “Are we gonna talk about it? Ever? You know we can. I won’t judge you.”

And well, what the hell is that supposed to mean?!

Does Keith… know? Has he known all along?! Did he know when it was happening?!

“I have to go.” Lance practically yelps. He slides off the counter, bumping into Keith in the process given how close they’d been, but even the feeling of their bare torsos colliding isn’t enough to slow Lance down. He’s making a beeline for the exit, head swimming with mixed emotions so heavy he feels like he might drown in them.

“Lance?!” Keith’s voice echoes around the empty room, follows him out into the hallway. It’s distressed, but Lance can’t comfort him this time. “Hey, you forgot your stuff!”

--

Alright, fine, Lance gives. He has a bit of a crush on Keith. A bit of a huge crush.

That’s why this is so hard. He can’t just laugh it off, can’t dismiss it. He’s hung up on it forever, probably, and the only way to even begin to fix it is to confirm that it really was Keith and go from there. But how would he even begin to ask that question?

In conclusion, Lance is doomed to be a horny disaster for the rest of time and silently pine after his hot teammate who may or may not have an alien cock. He still can’t stop thinking about it, especially that night after ditching out on their strange locker room session. He lies in bed and allows himself to fully revisit the memory just like he always does at night.

Except now he thinks back to how smooth Keith’s face had felt, figures it’d be pretty neat to be able to hold Keith’s face close and kiss it while that alien cock pushes inside of him and stretches him out. Fuck.

Even his nasty nighttime fantasies are growing more romantic and adoring by the night. 

--

The next time it happens, it’s in the control room in front of the whole team and Lance can’t rightly throw a fit over it without drawing unnecessary attention to the situation he doesn’t want to address in the first place. So all he can do is stand there and watch it happen.

“We’ll need to split up into teams to cover more ground. There’s a chance it could be-”

“Me and Lance!” Keith blurts, hand bolting into the air. Allura’s eye visibly twitches in annoyance, as she ever so slowly turns to glare at him. Keith just grins dorkily back at her, apparently incapable of looking out for his well-being both on the battlefield and off. “We’ll be one of the teams, I mean.”

“Ha, gay .” Pidge whisper-sings, not at all discreetly. Shiro shoots them a withering look and they just shrug their shoulders, leaning back on their heels. Hunk, on the other hand, gives Lance this wistful look that he’s pretty sure is supposed to be encouraging but it just feels smothering. God, since when did everyone on the team just agree that they’re a couple or something? This is news to Lance.

“Anyway, as I was saying,” Allura’s voice cuts through the air, sharper than before, “there’s a chance it could be anywhere, but more likely than not it’s in the Iluga jungle. There aren’t many threats to consider, but definitely keep an eye out for-”

Lance is barely paying attention to begin with, so when Keith’s elbow nudges him in the ribs, it’s pretty much game over. He turns to give the other boy a once-over, eyes narrowed suspiciously. 

Keith looks… nervous. It’s a weird look on him, considering all the things he’s gone running into with reckless abandon, he’s not usually one to dwell on the possibilities. He usually just does things and takes the consequences as they come. Apparently, navigating his relationship with Lance is of greater importance than his life when he charges into missions with swords blazing.

“ What ?” 

“Hey.” Keith says, that damned smile on his face again, like he’s the cat who got the cream. He’s looking at Lance with this smugness that isn’t entirely unlike when they used to compete, neck and neck, and Keith would come out on top. Except this time, Keith is gloating because he thinks he’s finally found a way to force Lance to socialize with him. Ugh.

“Hi?”

“I guess we’re a team.” Keith sways a little bit, knocking their shoulders together. He’s acting playful, waiting for Lance to feed into it, but he’s gonna be waiting a while. All Lance feels right now is dread.

“Yeah, I guess.” Lance huffs, offering nothing else to the conversation. Keith just keeps looking at him though, expectant and hopeful, like Lance will finally cave any second now. Lance turns back to Allura pointedly. “I’m trying to pay attention, can this conversation wait?”

“Sure.” 

--

During the flight to the planet they’re docking on, Keith requests a private channel on the comms three times, under the guise of discussing their strategy for when they land. Lance rejects every request, grows steadily more flustered each time Keith asks and the entire group goes completely silent. 

Everyone is holding their breath at this point. Lance knows he has to do something to start fixing this, before the others take matters into their own hands and force him to use the mind-melding machine with Keith again. That used to be their go-to method to force them to get along after a particularly brutal fight and it always worked, because at their core they were always willing to forgive and forget, were just too prideful to admit it aloud.

So, being able to peer into each other’s thoughts was the perfect solution... in the past.

Lance feels like it’d be the opposite of a solution for Keith to see all the images his mind has been conjuring up as of late.

--

They land, unpack their materials, familiarize themselves with where they’re leaving the lions. The rest of the team landed in different corners of the jungle, so it really is just Keith and Lance alone, going about setting up for the mission like there isn’t a wall of tension between them. Lance takes his sweet time, drags his feet as he gets things ready. Keith doesn’t call him out, he just sort-of hovers, never straying far enough away that Lance forgets he’s there.

Lance admits to the fact that he’s totally and completely fucked when he’s finally ready to go, and Keith doesn’t naturally fall into step as the leader. This is his thing, being out in unexplored wilderness, blazing a new trail through the underbrush. Lance is pretty sure it’s a kink or something, Keith is never more himself than when he’s charging ahead in dangerous unknown lands.

So, when he gestures for Lance to go first, it’s clear that something is off.

They’re hardly ten minutes into the trek when Keith falls into step beside Lance instead of behind him, using his sword to cut through some of the bushes blocking the way. He still doesn’t offer to lead the way, doesn’t try to pass Lance. Just stays at his side. Unnervingly silent.

Twenty minutes in and Keith is getting antsy, he keeps straying ahead only to circle back, keeps fidgeting impatiently beside Lance. More than once, he’s stepped on the backs of Lance’s boots and nearly sent them both toppling into the dirt. And Lance has just about had it.

The next time it happens, he whirls around to glare at Keith underneath the visor of his helmet. His annoyance must be plain to see, because Keith shrinks back a little bit. He reaches up, removes his helmet, exhales loudly. Lance mirrors him, holding his helmet to his hip.

“What?” Lance grits out, teeth mashed together. “If you have something to say, just say it.”

“Uh, it’s not really important.” Keith dismisses him, such a far stretch from casual that it would be funny if Lance didn’t feel so pent up. He feels cornered and uncomfortable, knowing what’s coming but still so utterly helpless to prepare for it. He isn’t really angry with Keith, he can’t even blame him for wanting answers to what’s going on. But damn, he can’t help wanting to lash out either. 

“Can we move on then?”

“Can we talk?” Keith asks now, despite the fact that Lance just gave him a platform to say his piece. It’s clear he wants it to be an actual conversation though, a back and forth, not an accusation like Lance had been making it out to be. He wants to talk this out like healthy people do. Lance rolls his eyes, wondering why Keith decided to be good at communication now of all times. He doesn’t want to communicate, he wants to forget all of this. “What’s new with you? We haven’t really talked in a while.”

“Nothing.” Lance answers, voice cold. “What’s new with you? You know, other than the Blade stuff.”

“Oh. Not much.” Keith pauses, looks down at his feet and contemplates for a long moment. When he looks back up at Lance, he just looks defeated. The challenge is gone from his eyes. “This thing between us must be pretty bad this time, huh?”

“What do you mean?” Lance gently shoves him aside, keeps trudging ahead and forging their path. Keith sighs behind him, long and drawn-out, not entirely unlike the noises Lance would usually be making right now if he was trailing behind Keith on a normal mission.

“This is more tense than things have ever been. Aren’t you supposed to like, at least make fun of my hair or call me a hotheaded dumbass or something? Give me something to work with here.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about. There is no tension between us. We’re good.”

“Stop lying to me. I’m not stupid.”

“I’m telling the truth.”

“Lance!” Keith shouts his name now, with so much poorly-concealed emotion that his voice almost breaks under the single syllable. Lance freezes where he’d been in the middle of shoving his way through the underbrush. He turns around slowly, eyes wide as they find Keith’s. Keith looks distraught, more than Lance has ever seen him dare to express. “What did I do to deserve this? You’ve been giving me the cold shoulder for weeks. I can’t take it anymore!”

“Do we really have to do this? Right now?” Lance asks, with a sinking feeling of dread settling over him as he realizes just how much this has been bothering Keith. Yeah, alright, maybe Lance has been acting like an asshole and giving no good reason for it. Fuck.

“I’ve been trying to give you your space, let you figure it out on your own time, but I’m at the end of my rope. Give me something. Some sort-of direction. I can’t fix this if I don’t know what the problem is.”

“Alright, shoot.” Lance sighs, leaning back against a nearby tree trunk.

“I just wanna be a team again.” Keith tells him, in a way that doesn’t really leave any room for redirecting his words. Lance frowns, guilt growing steadily. “The Blade doesn’t have a team dynamic and ours has been all wonky since the Zarkon fight. I got Shiro back, but nothing feels the same. I’m just trying to get to the bottom of it so I can start piecing things back together. I already talked to Allura, we’re on good terms. As far as I can tell, whatever’s going on with you has nothing to do with me being Galra, but just in case it does. I… I’m open to talking about it? It’s not exactly a secret, I’m-”

Throughout his rant, Keith had taken to idly twirling a vine around his fingers, trying to calm his nerves with a harmless distraction. Except, with each word he speaks, Lance notices the vine starts to have a mind of its own. It writhes up into the touch and just as Lance starts to understand what’s happening, a flower with teeth appears in the bushes behind Keith.

“Keith!” Lance shouts, diving forward and tackling him just in time to avoid a certain death. They roll a few times and Lance is on his feet in an instant, blaster at the ready. The flower is nothing more than a splatter of goo across the trees after he pulls the trigger, but still Lance’s heart doesn’t stop racing. It takes him a long moment to realize it has something to do with the fact he’s settled on top of Keith, sitting on his stomach and crouched protectively over him. 

Lance lands a hand on Keith’s chestplate and shoves . “That plant wanted to eat you, dumbass!”

“There we go.” Keith reaches up, runs his fingers through his hair to smooth it back. He’s grinning so hard, Lance can’t make sense of why. “You called me a dumbass, that’s progress.”

Lance groans, slapping a gloved hand to his face. He clambers off of Keith then, holding a hand out to help his teammate back to his feet. He’s a little bit warier now, as he eyes the jungle around him, aware that they’re not entirely alone. After deciding they’re safe for the time being, Lance turns back to Keith and finds the other boy staring at him. Still expectant. Still waiting.

“Keith, it has nothing to do with you being Galra.” Lance says, voice completely even, honest. He steps closer, pulls Keith into a clumsy hug, claps a hand to his back. He tucks his face in close, drops his voice to something much quieter and more personal. “I don’t give a shit about that, you hear me? That’s something outside of your control and that’s something that’s always been a thing, whether we knew about it or not. It doesn’t change who you are or how I view you as a person. At all. You’re still the same Keith. If anything I’m happy for you finally finding answers to questions you’ve had your whole life. I love that for you, honest.”

Lance takes a step back, grabs both of their helmets off the ground and holds Keith’s out to him.

“I figured, you don’t really seem like the type to get hung up on that.” Keith mumbles, accepting his helmet. He still doesn’t put it on though, just holds it to his stomach, so Lance mirrors him. They’re facing each other now, the moment stretching on in silence as Keith worries his bottom lip between his teeth in thought. He has more to say. Lance gives him time to figure out what it is. “So, what is it? Is it something I did? I know tensions were pretty high during the fight and after, but I really appreciated your help while Shiro was missing and I was getting used to the new lion. If I did something-”

“You didn’t do anything.” Lance assures him, quickly. Relief doesn’t wash over Keith’s face though, it only works his expression into something more tangled and complicated. He looks to Lance, desperate for any kind of direction. Lance’s heart clenches. “It’s something I might have done.”

“What?” Keith laughs. “Lance, if you think I’m mad at you, I’m not.”

“No. Not exactly.” Lance turns away, can’t bring himself to look Keith in the eye right now. He really doesn’t want to have this conversation, isn’t sure if he’s ready for it yet. But Keith is beyond ready, Keith is at the end of his rope waiting for Lance to get his act together this time. And Lance owes it to him, as a friend if nothing else, to stop leaving him in the dark. “If you knew what the something I might have done is, you might be mad at me, depending on if I actually did it or not. I don’t know how you’d feel. You might not even be mad as much as just really uncomfortable.”

“I don’t understand?”

“Keith.” Lance glances back at him and Keith is still watching him, with growing concern shadowing his entire face. That’s the way this is gonna go down then. The ball is in Lance’s court, it’s his move. The only thing he can think to do is ask the obvious question. You know, before he possibly ruins their relationship for good. “Look, you swear you wanna fix this thing between us? No matter what?”

“I guess so? Yeah.” Keith’s confidence is growing with every second. He has that look about him, like when he’s going into a battle with unlikely odds, braving the brunt of it like always. He really is determined to fix this, it’s admirable. Cute, even.

“Okay.” Lance sucks in a heavy breath, braces himself for the fallout. “ What does your dick look like ?”

“W-What?” Keith stutters out, eyes comically wide. Lance gets the very unique pleasure of watching his cheeks darken to a rosy pink, mouth hanging slightly agape. Adorably flustered. It takes him a good ten seconds to even begin to compose himself, but as soon as he does his expression settles into pure unadulterated rage. “Lance, what the fuck?! I’m trying to have an honest heart-to-heart with you! The least you could do is take this seriously! You know I’m not good at this shit, I’m trying my best, I’m extending the olive branch or whatever so just-”

“I am serious!” Lance whines uselessly, but the way Keith is looking at him tells him that nothing he says at this point will fix the direction this conversation is steadily headed in. He groans, stomping forward and whacking some branches out of the way. “You don’t have to whip it out and show me! You can just describe it! Is it generally human-looking?!”

“Is this some sort-of bet you made? About what my genitals look like?”

“Sure, let’s go with that.” Lance decides aloud, figuring that might be his only way out of this that doesn’t involve Keith skewering him on his sword like a kabob. He really bombed this conversation, didn’t he?

“I can’t believe you.” Keith grits out, stomping past Lance and shoulder-checking him rather brutishly on his way. Lance stumbles, collides with a nearby tree and groans in pain. Keith doesn’t even glance back at him, he’s blazing his way ahead no matter the cost. Lance thinks if he squints he can see smoke rolling out of his ears, boiling over as he heats up to dangerous levels of furious. Oh no. He’s only ever made Keith this genuinely mad once, and it ended with him getting a black eye.

“Come on, Keith, you said you’d do anything to fix this!”

“I don’t even fucking know why I bother.” Keith is muttering under his breath, in that menacing way he does when he gets so worked up he’s beyond communication. Lance cowers behind him, watching as branch after branch whips back to hit him. He only manages to dodge half of them. “Sometimes I think we could really be friends, but then you go and pull some shit and I’m left wondering if I would just be better off joining the Blades full-time. At least they say what they mean and don’t play fucking mind games.”

“It’s not a mind game!” Lance cries out. In an instant, Keith whirls around and grabs ahold of his chestplate, slamming him against a solid surface with enough force to have Lance’s teeth rattling in his skull. His head is still reeling to understand the sudden movement when Keith crowds closer, pressing their foreheads together until bark is digging into the back of Lance’s head.

“God, Lance.” Keith’s voice is so furious it has Lance trembling. His knees threaten to give out. Keith keeps him there though, pushes in closer until his angry breaths are fanning across Lance’s lips in hot bursts. Lance licks his lips out of instinct, torn between wanting to put as much space as possible between himself and this threat of a human being, or to push off from the tree and plaster himself across Keith’s front to be even closer. “You drive me up the fucking wall. I can’t stand you!”

“I’m sorry.”

“Sorry doesn’t cut it!” Keith snarls, entire forearm bearing down on Lance’s chest and pushing him back into the tree with more force. He’s literally lifted off the ground by Keith’s grip now, legs dangling weakly and uselessly beneath his body. And as strangely turned on as the show of physical prowess is making Lance feel, he’s also very much fearing for his life. “You’re acting like a prick .”

“Look, fuck, okay. You want the whole story?!”

“Yeah. I do.” The words are practically a growl, sending shivers down Lance’s spine for more reasons than one. He trembles uselessly, prays to a god he doesn’t believe in that Keith doesn’t look down between them and notice the bulge in his uniform. They’re terrible under-armored in the crotch department, an issue that Lance has brought up before, that a simple built-in cup to the spandex fabric is not enough to protect the family jewels. But, yanno, Allura wasn’t hearing it.

And so, here he is, hoping that it isn’t visible how much his cock is standing at attention as Keith manhandles him with ease.

“Do you remember that bar? With the terrible karaoke? We went there as a team like three weeks ago?” 

“Yeah?” Keith scoffs, immediately ready to dismiss what he’s hearing. But when Lance opens his mouth to stumble and sputter some more, say anything he possibly can to work himself out of the corner he’s backed into… no words come out. He just gives a pathetic, embarrassed squeak. Keith seems to register what he actually said then, a hint of understanding dawning across his features. “That night you were acting so weird?”

“Yeah, yeah, that’s the one.” Lance gulps, watching the gears of Keith’s mind desperately turn. There’s something settling over his face, almost scared. Dark eyes roam over Lance’s face, his cowering posture, searching desperately for answers. When their gazes meet again, Keith looks mortified already by what he’s seeing. This can’t be good. The recognition in those irises is the most damning thing Lance has ever seen in his life. Keith has never been a good liar. 

“ Lance ?”

“I don’t even have to finish my story, do I?” Lance’s shoulders slump in resignation. Keith knows. He knows that Keith knows. And Keith knows that he knows that Keith knows. Now they’re at a standstill.

“W-What’s going on? What about the bar?” Keith tries uselessly, apparently still trying to cling onto the hope that they’re both talking about something different. But Lance is already in the process of coming to terms with the information he’s gathering, the answer he’s been searching for for so long. He can’t help it when his eyes drop between them, to the crotch of Keith’s own uniform.

Yep. That’s where the alien dick that haunts his dreams lies. Just great.

“There was this… hole, in the bathroom stall.” Lance forces himself to say, even as he cringes inwardly more with every single word. Keith seems to be in a similar place, entire face screwed up with obvious disgust. He drops Lance carelessly, whirls around and starts pacing, back and forth, back and forth… he’s not angry anymore, but he’s definitely still battling overpowering emotions.

Lance slumps down against the tree, sliding until his ass hits the ground. He pulls his knees to his chest, rests his chin on them and quietly watches Keith pace. There are so many micro-expressions flickering across his features, it’s hard to even begin to detect what he’s feeling. Lance can confidently say that he’s pieced the unspoken parts of the story together though. 

After a couple minutes, Lance can’t take the heavy silence anymore. “At least say something!”

“Why the fuck were you sucking random dicks in an alien bathroom?!”

“Why the fuck would you stick yours through a random hole in an alien bathroom?! Huh?!”

“I-” Keith looks like he has a genuine argument prepared to defend his actions, but then he hesitates. Lance watches as he shrinks in on himself again, back to silently brooding. He turns to leave, doesn’t even wait to see if Lance is following. “Nevermind. Let’s go back to not talking. Once we finish this mission I’m going to stay with the Blades for a long fucking time. Don’t expect to hear from me.”

“Okay, well, at least we’re both on the same page! For the record, if I had known it was your stinky dick, I wouldn’t have sucked it!” Lance hollers after him, crossing his arms over his chest and sinking back against the tree. He watches Keith’s retreating form disappear from sight, is vaguely aware of the fact he should follow so they don’t get split up in an unknown wilderness, but he can’t bring himself to swallow down his pride and do it. It’s all he can do to sit there and not break down.

This felt… an awful lot like a rejection. Even though Lance hadn’t confessed to jack shit, hadn’t shown any interest whatsoever in Keith, had made it clear that he didn’t know it was Keith at the time. It still hurts to have Keith blow up like that, to look so disgusted before storming off and refusing to look Lance in the eye again. Where is all the willingness to patch things up and become friends again now?

Keith had been so dedicated lately, so determined to weasel his way into Lance’s life and make things right between them. Screw Lance for getting the wrong idea and assuming that meant something. He’d even gotten his hopes up there for a second, when he’d admitted to his own feelings… that Keith might possibly feel the same. Might not be so bothered at all if it turned out they’d accidentally hooked up in a bathroom without realizing it.

Distantly, Lance can hear Keith taking his frustrations out on the foliage and he glares in the general direction.

“Who’s acting like a prick now?! Huh?!”

--

The jungle is the slightest bit eerie without Keith around, though Lance would never admit it. He’s stumbling around blindly, pretending to search for the mission objective, but in reality only worrying about Keith. The idiot forgot his helmet behind in the heat of their argument, so Lance is toting it around and can’t even contact him via their tech. He’s really out here getting lost all on his own.

He feels the slightest bit stupid for worrying, he knows that Keith can handle himself more often than not, that he definitely isn’t worrying about Lance. But he can’t help it, he really cares about the guy, even after the terrible interaction they’d shared today.

--

It must be an hour of wandering before Lance finally spots some footprints in the dirt and recognizes that he must be on the right track to finding Keith. Finally. He gets a little bit impatient after that, stumbling ahead only to double back and regroup with the footprints. Eventually he manages to follow the trail to a small clearing where a stump rests in the middle, directly under a stream of sunshine.

It looks like exactly the sort-of place Keith would come to brood.

Except he isn’t sitting there anymore, so he must have moved on. Lance frowns, looking around for any more footprints. He’s not having much luck spotting another trail, even though the clearing is mostly dirt, and it would be easy to see if there were any. He’s growing the slightest bit… concerned.

He sets Keith’s helmet down on the stump, gives the jungle around him a full 360 search. There isn’t much of anything that stands out. Another one of those freaky man-eating flowers stands out between the trees, a bright glint of yellow.

Lance takes a step toward it, handling his bayard into position.

And then he nearly trips, ankle rolling painfully. 

He collapses into the dirt, whirls around ready to shoot down by his feet just in case. But there’s nothing living there, just a… boot. Keith’s boot.

Lance’s heart rate skyrockets, his eyes widening behind the visor of his helmet. He picks it up hastily, peers inside and lets out a relieved nose to see the foot isn’t attached. It’s just one of those stupid combat boots, but Lance knows it can’t be a good sign. There must have been a struggle, something must have pounced while Keith was distracted by his thoughts.

Grabbing the helmet back up off the stump and shoving the boot inside it, Lance warily ventures into the jungle with his blaster at the ready. There’s a lot of those flowers, enough that Lance is sending off shots left and right, before they can begin to approach him. These ones are bigger than the first one he’d come across after landing. Deeper into the jungle, where the trees are much taller, the undergrowth shrouded in darkness.

Lance keeps his eyes peeled, keeps looking behind himself to make sure he doesn’t suffer the same fate as Keith. Surely he didn’t fall victim to a flower… unless he was completely not paying attention. They’re pretty slow moving, not exactly smart about the way they approach their target.

But that poses the question of what else is in the jungle watching Lance right now, and he hates that question with a passion.

With the sheer amount of flowers he’s been pulverizing, he eventually gets the idea to start following their roots to the source. They don’t go into the ground like one might expect, they’re all interconnected with other flowers, and the trail keeps going after that. So Lance follows it, occasionally shooting it to make sure there’s no sweet chance it’s going to live after this. Distantly, he worries he might be affecting the ecosystem of this poor planet, but less distantly he’s afraid for his life and he doesn’t give a shit.

The roots lead him into a cave, because of course they do. The roots couldn’t lead him to a ncie, homey jungle village where the people are florists and invited Keith into their humble abode. No, it’s a damp, dark, dreary cave and it has roots coming into it from all angles. You can’t even see the ground underneath them, it’s just layer upon layer of roots. 

Lance nervously starts into the cave, leaving Keith’s stuff behind, his own helmet sealed tight around his head. There are spores floating around the air, glowy and definitely poisonous-looking, and he isn’t exactly keen on inhaling any of them. He holds his gun tighter as he descends down the steep scrabbling cave, gripping onto the roots for support.

There aren’t any flowers here, for as big as the cave is, and as many roots as there are leading down into it. So maybe he’s already faced the worst of the danger…

As he continues, he catches the faintest light glowing at the end of the tunnel. Lance grits his teeth and picks up his pace, worry beginning to gnaw at the pit of his stomach more intently. Keith really did it this time, didn’t he? Fuck.

Lance flings himself around the corner with his gun raised, ready to go ballistic and start firing left and right, totally obliterate anything that might jump back at him. But… there aren’t really any threats in sight, nothing moving toward him anyway. 

There’s just… one big flower. Not entirely unlike the others, but huge, like nearly the size of their lions.

It has an eerie glow to it, light illuminating the dark of the cave so well that Lance can turn his own flashlight off and go by it instead. He steps closer, waits for the flower to come to life like it’s minions, but it stays delightfully stationary as he approaches. 

He’s halfway to it when a glint of color by his feet catches his eye and he looks down to see Keith’s bayard, as well as his Marmora blade… discarded on the ground.

“Fuck.” Lance curses, feeling his eyes begin to sting with unshed tears. This isn’t good, can’t be, if Keith is unarmed and alone there’s no telling what kind of condition he’s in already. Lance has a terrifying moment of worrying that he might be too late. But then a shadow moves across the room and he jolts upright, looking around for the source, for anyone else who might be in there with him.

The cavern is still empty. Lance is growing confused.

“Keith?” He calls out, stepping around the roots, waiting for something to jump out at him. It doesn’t happen. Minutes pass by and slowly his tense posture relaxes slightly. He keeps looking though, circles the cavern and the giant flower a few times, still doesn’t see anything.

He’s just about to move on and check out another one of the tunnels when the shadow passes him by again, like a cloud drifting overhead, even though the room is closed off from the outside world completely. There is, however, one source of light.

Lance looks toward the flower and squints, jaw dropping inside his helmet as a dark silhouette floats aimlessly around inside the semi-translucent petals. Oh fuck. Keith got eaten by a giant venus flytrap.

“Keith!” Lance fires a shot, but it bounces uselessly off the flower and he’s left scrambling to dodge it after. With a grumble, he looks around for an alternative weapon, settles his sights on the short dagger of the Marmora blade. He can’t awaken it with his DNA, so he’ll have to use it in its current form.

He brandishes the weapon, eyes set in steely determination as he approaches the flower and starts hacking away at the flesh of it. It’s thicker than he would have thought, and the goo that oozes from its wounds looks corrosive so he has to keep moving aside and allot time for it to fall away. 

All in all, he’s at it for a good half hour straight when he hears movement shuffling behind him. 

He whips around just in time to drive the dagger forward into one of the smaller flowers where it’d been sneaking up behind him. The goo splatters across his suit and he’s relieved to find it doesn’t burn through it, just festers there. Lance curls his nose in disgust, looking down at the mess. In the tangle of smaller roots from the flower, there’s a small alien animal, something similar to a rabbit’s size.

Dragged back as the next meal for the leader of their hivemind.

Lance turns around and starts hacking at the large flower anew, chiselling his way through. 

An hour passes and he’s made it far enough that the skin seems to be growing weaker, and he can see the shift of movement through it. It’s sort-of super gross, like watching pumpkin guts churn inside of their casing, but Keith is somewhere in there and he’s just gonna have to brave the disgust of it all.

The next stab of his dagger and it sinks through the final layer, hitting something with much more give.

When he pulls the weapon back, pollen starts spilling from the wound like a waterfall. 

He digs in and slices open the gash wider, watching the room fill up with the powdery substance. It gets hard to see through the visor of his helmet, there’s so much of it. He has to keep wiping it away, trying desperately to search the mess for Keith. He’s silently thankful now that he picked up Keith’s bayard and Marmora blade, because he never would have been able to find them again in the mess.

The entire flower is wilting and withering away, the pollen filling the room like a puddle.

Lance stumbles through it, sifting through the mess hopefully.

He stumbles across Keith’s crumpled form a minute or two later, in the far corner of the cavern. He doesn’t look good at all. The pollen is clinging to every inch of his exposed skin, caked to his face in big clumps. Lance brushes some of it away, but when Keith doesn’t immediately start to stir, he forgets himself and launches straight into protective mode.

“Hey, it’s okay, I’ve got you.” Lance whispers, hoisting Keith up into his arms and carrying him toward the tunnel. He runs, desperate to get back outside to fresh air. He’s sure that Keith needs it right now, at any cost. Granted that he’s even still in there…

The first glimpse of sunlight has Lance sobbing out a wet noise with relief. He stumbles outside and falls into the dirt, bracketing Keith’s body so his own takes the brunt of the fall. He pulls back, yanks his helmet off and tosses it aside. He yanks his gloves off, presses them to Keith’s pulse point and sighs heavily in relief to find it’s still steady.

He sets about brushing the pollen off of Keith’s skin then. His hair is matted with the stuff, but his first concern is clearing Keith’s airways to the best of his ability. Once the majority of it is out of the way, Lance cringes inwardly and does what he’s been dreading. He ducks down, presses his lips to Keith’s and pinches his nose, breathes some life into him.

He goes through the motions of performing CPR on autopilot, lost to the cause. He can’t even think straight, can’t think about anything beyond the task or else he’ll start to spiral, the fear eating him alive-

Keith stirs underneath him suddenly, eyes flying wide.

Next thing Lance knows, he’s shoved up and off of him, landing with a thud a foot away. Keith is rolling over in an instant, hacking into the dirt. The amount of pollen he spits up is definitely unhealthy.

“I can’t breathe, I can’t-”

“Water! Drink some water. Snort it up your nose. Wash that shit down. Fuck, I don’t know what to do, I don’t-” Lance shoves the bottle at him blindly and eventually, Keith accepts it. He downs the entire bottle, uses the last of it to splash across his face and scrub away the layer of pollen. Lance produces another bottle from his pack, watches Keith desperately gulp it down next.

Lance hovers next to him, hand running smoothing circles across Keith’s back as he chugs. And when he finally pulls away, another bottle emptied, breathing a little bit more regulated… Lance flies into him and lets the building panic unleash. “Why didn’t you take your fucking helmet with you, idiot?!”

“You’re… the idiot.” Keith’s voice is ragged, absolutely wrecked, like he’s been suffering from strep throat for weeks. It’s nary more than a croak, so raspy that it’s hard to make out what he’s saying. “Idiot.”

“Are you okay?”

“It reeks.” Keith groans, taking a brief sniff of himself to confirm the fact. “I smell like ass .”

“Well, at least nothing’s changed.” Lance jokes, but there isn’t any heart behind it. He doesn’t sound playful, he still sounds terrified. He can’t hide it, isn’t even going to bother trying. It never stops being the worst thing ever, every near-death experience they have feels worse than the last. Like they can only beat the odds so many times before it catches up to them. Every time could be the last. The fear of that never leaves.

Keith must be able to tell, his expression softening as he rakes his eyes over Lance’s dishevelled state, still watery-eyed and flushed from adrenaline. Lance doesn’t need an invitation, he scrambles forward and throws his arms around Keith whether he wants a hug or not. Lance immediately breaks, all the tears he’s been fighting this entire time spilling over like a dam broken. “I thought you were gonna die, you big jerk! Never go off on your own again, you hear me?!”

“I’m fine.” Keith laughs, but his voice argues otherwise even as he says it. He keeps giggling as Lance mauls him, rolls them both into the dirt, careful to avoid the mess of pollen. Lance hugs Keith so tight he’s thankful for the chest plate armor between them, would be worried about breaking ribs without it, but he can’t bring himself to be any gentler. He needs it, needs it to feel real. 

He pulls Keith in close, tucks his face into the shoulder of Lance’s uniform and holds him there.

“I was so worried.” Lance breathes, unable to stop the words from tumbling past his lips.

“I know, I know.” Keith nods, hugging Lance back. “I’m fine though, I’m-”

Keith cuts himself off with a sharp inhale, very obviously startled by something. Lance whips his head around, prepared to go feral and fight whatever’s sneaking up on them, but there’s nothing there. And as he stares around the clearing, peering between the trees of the jungle, Keith pries himself away from Lance’s hug with an urgency that definitely isn’t casual.

He gets to his feet and Lance watches in confusion, wondering if there’s some threat there that he doesn’t see.

“Keith?” Lance asks, as Keith shoves his helmet on and grabs his weapons off the ground. Lance is starting to wonder if he’s been brainwashed by the substance he inhaled so much of, as Keith starts toward the treeline. “Dude, where are you going?”

“We’ve lost a lot of time, we should keep going. We’re probably getting close-”

“What are you talking about?!”

“The mission.”

“The mission? Dude, that’s the last of my concerns right now.” Lance literally laughs at the though, standing up and approaching Keith. Those violet eyes are glued to him though, with a wariness that has Lance circling back to his brainwashing theory. For every step Lance grows closer, Keith shrinks back another. He looks spooked. 

“I told you, I’m fine.”

“You’re not fucking fine.” Lance growls out, with a finality that isn’t up to debate. There aren’t many times he gets serious about something, it’s just not in his nature, but there’s no way he’s going to stand here and let Keith endanger himself for the sake of the mission. They have no idea what was in that pollen, what reactions Keith might have. The mission isn’t important. “We’re going back to the lions, we need to get you into a healing pod right-”

Lance charges forward and grabs Keith’s hand, grip tight, no plans of letting him go.

Keith lurches backward like he’s revolted by the touch though, eyes screwed shut.

“Don’t touch me!” It’s not a request, it’s a demand, and it’s shouted so loudly that Lance lets go of his hand entirely on instinct. He shrinks away, hurt probably displayed clearly across his face. He watches Keith snatch his hand back to his chest, eyes wide in shock at his own behavior.

“Geesh, Keith, alright.” Lance gulps, giving a humorless laugh. Keith doesn’t join in. He just stays where he is, frozen with that deer-in-headlights look on his face. Lance hates it. He hates seeing Keith made so uncomfortable by him. Fuck. He really messed everything up, didn’t he? 

“I-” Keith starts to say, but then he stops himself. He frowns deeply instead. His face is flushed a deep red, sweat clinging to his skin. He doesn’t look good, and Lance knows he has to right this situation to the best of his ability before he can convince Keith to go back to the lions.

“Look, I know we didn’t get to have this talk earlier. I’m sorry, okay? Honest. If I could go back and undo it, you know I would.” Lance offers, running a hand through his hair. “I didn’t know it was you. I’m really sorry, Keith. I-”

“Leave me alone, Lance.” Keith’s voice cuts over his, cold and icy, unimpressed by the apology. He whirls around and starts stomping toward the trees again, but Lance follows on his heels. He doesn’t try to touch Keith again, still feels guilty for the last time, probably won’t be able to shake that feeling for a long while yet. 

“I’m not leaving you alone, for all we know you could be poisoned right now!” Lance shouts. Keith doesn’t even turn to look at him, shoulders hiked up around his ears. “We have to go back!”

“Not until the mission is completed. I’m fine.” Keith insists again. He has that damned stubborn air about him that he gets when he knows he’s making a stupid decision, when he’s justifying it to himself because he’s a hero and self-sacrifice is what heroes do. Lance is fucking tired of it. “Knowledge or death, that’s what the Blades always s-”

“If you’re so fine, it won’t matter if I snort some of this shit too, right?” Lance asks him, scooping a handful of pollen from the crevices of his suit. There’s so much of the stuff, he’s probably inhaled his fair share since his helmet came off, and if not then then when he performed CPR. Still, he has a point to prove, so he holds the handful of pollen up to his face.

Keith is looking at him now. 

“You wouldn’t.”

“Watch me.” Lance growls out, leaning closer threateningly, eyes flashing with a challenge as they bore into Keith’s dark ones. Keith’s pupils are blown out wide, no doubt high off his mind from whatever strange elements are in that pollen. He takes a step toward Lance, thoughtful, but then winces like he’s in pain. Bastard, he was totally lying about being fine.

“Fuck off, Lance.” Keith says then, a hand landing on his gut and pressing down on it. “Don’t play games.”

“I’m not playing.” 

“I don’t have time for this shit, I’m leaving.” Keith turns to go and Lance feels his anger skyrocket, annoyed with the other boy’s standoffish behavior. He’d nearly died! And apparently hadn’t learnt his lesson at all!

But, if there’s one thing he knows about Keith, his sacrificing behavior only extends to himself. He would never stand for a teammate willingly putting themselves in danger.

And so, Lance steels his nerves, and snorts a handful of alien pollen, because his mama didn’t raise no bitch. She did raise an idiot, but that’s unrelated.

The noise is unmistakable, as is Lance’s cursing and whining that follows afterward as his nostrils burn to high heavens. Keith whips around to gape at him, disbelief written all across his features. He storms closer, grabs ahold of Lance’s chestplate and wrenches him closer. Lance tips his head back, nostrils flaring, just in case Keith needs proof.

“How do you like me now? Huh? Guess we’re in this together for better or for worse.”

“You’re so stupid.” Keith shoves him away with some force, Lance barely manages to stay on his feet. He does though, if only to watch as Keith angrily storms around the clearing, hands tugging on his pollen-coated hair with enough force to rip some of it out. “So fucking stupid!”

“Yeah I am, what are you gonna do about it?” Lance places his hands on his hips. “Guess you gotta live so you can beat me up for this later, right? So let's get back to the healing pods, as a team.”

If anything, Lance is trying to be nice about it, even if his methods were a little extreme. He holds a hand out to Keith, a genuine hopeful smile gracing his features. 

And Keith just… blows up at him. For no good reason!

“I’m not dying !” Keith shouts at him, slapping his hand aside angrily. “I’m just…”

“Just?” Lance presses when Keith trails off, giving no room for him to dodge the question. If Keith has some insight into what’s going on with him and isn’t sharing with Lance, then they’re gonna have a problem. 

Lance is taking this personally. It’s his job to look out of his teammate, okay? Especially if Keith is weakened for any reason at all, Lance has to stand up and fill both of their roles, make sure he makes it back to the castle ship safe and sound.

Keith doesn’t seem to like the pressure on him to elaborate, if the feral snarl and bared-teeth are anything to go by. Lance blinks, taken aback by the glint of pointed white canines. 

“Fucking Christ, Lance, what do you want from me?!” Keith stalks toward him and Lance scrambles backward a step, watching as Keith throws his hands up in defeat. “I’m horny, okay! I’m fucking horny!”

And, well… that was not the expected comment. He’d been expecting a fist to collide with his jaw, or something along those lines. Not for Keith to shout something so uncharacteristic and then step back, alight with a blush, silently fuming. Suddenly, with everything put into perspective, Keith looks a whole lot less furious and a lot more embarrassed .

“Um… what?”

“I think it’s some kind of aphrodisiac, the pollen.” Keith sighs, mashing his face into his palm, making a valiant effort not to look Lance in the eye again after his confession. “There’s enough of it in the air that you would have been affected sooner or later anyway, but good job speeding up the process.”

“Well, fuck, you maybe should have led with that before you let me snort a handful!”

“I didn’t let you do anything, you just did it! Like everything you do!” Keith snaps back easily, like he’s had that comment at the ready and waiting. Lance feels it like a slap to the face, the implications heavy and constricting as they settle over him. Something innate and determined inside of him flares to attention, the need to defend his ego after such a low blow.

“Oh, okay, here we fucking go.” Lance snickers, something cruel about it that he can’t quite place. Keith must notice it too, a scowl already forming. “You stuck your dick through that wall willingly, knowing that you’d never know whose mouth was on the other side! You consented just as much as I did!”

“The whole point was that I’d never know!” 

“Sucks to be you then! Because now you know that it was me who sucked off your freaky alien dick, took it down my throat and gargled your jizz! What are you gonna do about it, Keith? Huh? Stop being such a baby about it! Shit happens!” Lance is vaguely aware of the fact that he might be overreacting, taking this a step too far, crossing a line. But he’s feeling insecure and rejected and he’s prone to act just the slightest bit wild when cornered with such heavy emotions.

Keith doesn’t retaliate, doesn’t rise to the challenge. He doesn’t even shrink off in disgust, muttering mean things under his breath. He just sort-of crumples, curling in on himself and pressing his thighs tighter together, tight enough that he hardly stays upright.

He lets out a quiet breathy noise… borderline a moan. 

Lance suddenly regrets every decision he’s made in his entire life to lead to this moment.

“Keith? You okay?” 

“My entire body feels like it’s on fire, it burns .” Keith grunts out, shuddering visibly against a wave of… well, it certainly isn’t pain, though Keith’s face is scrunched up tight like it is. His hair is falling in his eyes, but Lance knows that hazy lust-fueled look well enough to recognize it for what it is anyway. God, Keith looks like he’s on the verge of orgasm, fuck.

“I think you need to sit down, take it easy.” Lance suggests, reaching to settle a hand on Keith’s shoulder and thinking abruptly better of it. He takes a step back, gestures toward the ground instead.

“You know what I need to do?” Keith grunts back at him, glowering up at Lance in a way that probably isn’t supposed to be as hot as it actually is. “I need to go off on my own and jack off my freaky alien dick, like I’ve been trying to do since this kicked in. Is that a problem? Do you need to babysit me? Supervise while I do it?”

“I mean, yeah, it is a problem.” Lance said, but his tone isn’t argumentative anymore, it’s bordering more on the concerned teammate wavelength. “You could still be poisoned. And even if you’re not, if you’re… indisposed, the plants might gang up on you. It isn’t safe to be alone right now.”

“Since when are you the responsible one?” Keith sighs, but the fight is losing his eyes because he knows it all adds up. Though he might make the decision to put himself at risk, he won’t choose to leave Lance on his own while he’s at risk. They’re in this together. “So, what are you suggesting?” 

“We’ll call the others to come find us and-”

“You think I want to be around the team when I’m like this? You think I want them to start asking questions? It’s bad enough that you-”

“That I what?”

“That you saw it.” 

“Your… dick?” Lance guesses, though there isn’t much confidence behind it. He knows immediately that he got it right on the money though, notices the way Keith flinches backward and quickly turns around before Lance can study his reaction any closer. He starts ahead, slashing his sword through everything that dares to get in his way. “Hey, wait up, Keith!”

Lance runs after him, eventually falls into step at his side. For a few minutes, they just continue on like that, Keith using all of his energy to throw a tantrum and storm his way through the jungle. Eventually, his energy seems to wane though, body as exhausted and distracted as it is… his sword hangs limply from his hand, his angry panting evening out into something more labored.

“I don’t want to talk about it.” Keith says finally, coming to a stop and bracing his hand against a tree. 

If Lance was a smarter man, he might have just let it be.

It’s just… harrowing, hearing the amount of frustration and self-directed loathing in Keith’s tone. It’s an unmistakable sort-of cruelty, the kind you broadcast only onto yourself. Lance is familiar enough with it that he knows, right away, what it is they’re talking about.

He’d been so busy drooling over Keith’s dick this entire time, literally and figuratively, that he’d never really stopped to think about the connotations of what that meant. That Keith had grown up on Earth like this, without any idea who he was or what it meant, only knowing that he was different. Other.

And sure, maybe going into space and discovering his heritage had answered his questions, but you don’t just undo years of concealing your body and being ashamed of the way it looks. With or without an explanation, that had to be hard on him. Had to have left some lasting effects.

Oh, fuck, this goes a lot deeper than Keith being grossed out that Lance was the one on the other side of the stall that night, doesn’t it?

“Is this like, a thing? Are you insecure about it?” It isn’t nearly as eloquent as Lance was hoping for it to be, if he’s being honest. He just isn’t sure where to start with this conversation. It’s not like he can reassure Keith and just come out and say how attractive he’d found it. That’s not friendly behavior, that’s a bit gay.

“I swear to fucking god, don’t mess with me right now, I’m not in the mood for it.”

“I’m not messing with you!” Lance defends, holding his hands up in front of himself as Keith gives him a begrudging once over. He straightens up, swiping the sweat gathering on his forehead and staring longingly in the direction ahead of them. 

“Come on, let’s just get back to our lions and ride it out there.” Keith exhales, reaches down to readjust himself in the crudest of ways and Lance tries desperately not to let his eyes follow the movement, but they have a mind of their own. The pollen hasn’t even kicked in for him yet, he doesn’t think, but something about seeing Keith so aroused is definitely rubbing off on him. 

Keith catches him staring, because of course he does. He doesn’t look flattered or flustered by it though, just looks blatantly uncomfortable as he turns away and continues ahead. No doubt, he thought Lance was looking at him with something akin to disgust, but it isn’t like that at all. Lance just doesn’t know how to express that. 

“Okay.”

“Then we can pretend none of this ever happened. Erase it from our minds.”

“If that’s what you wanna do.” Lance agrees, even as his heart gives a painful ache of protest to the idea. He doesn’t want to move on from this like nothing happened. He wants to fix things properly, he wants to reassure Keith, wants to do anything to fix the tension between them.

But he can’t, not without overstepping the boundaries Keith is laying out for himself, and Lance will never do that again.

--

The trip back is tense, to say the least. It goes a little quicker than the trip there, given that Lance can use the directions built into his suit to navigate and isn’t just wandering blindly in search of Keith. It seems much, much longer though. Time passes slower as the pollen overtakes their systems.

Keith’s pace slows steadily the longer they walk, until he’s gripping onto each tree he passes to keep himself upright, stumbling around with a dazed look in his eyes, sweat pouring from his hairline. He looks completely out of it, more or less, like he’s out of his mind drunk.

Lance can’t exactly talk though, he isn’t faring nearly as well as he was before. His cock is straining in his suit, rubbing uncomfortably against the fabric with each step. He can’t recall ever being so hard in his life, so painfully aroused that it’s almost impossible to focus on anything else. It’s concerning that Keith somehow looks worse than him. He can’t imagine it being any worse than it already is.

“Are you sure you’re good?” Lance asks, for what must be the tenth time. He turns, stares toward the tree that Keith has chosen to violate this time. He has his arms wrapped around the trunk, legs spread the barest amount as he wraps around it koala style, hips just barely rocking. Lance knows it’s out of his control, that he really can’t help seeking out the friction at this point, even though he’s probably fighting it with all he has. More than likely, he isn’t even aware that he’s doing it.

Even still, there’s no denying what Lance is watching. Keith has his bare face pressed to the tree bark, eyelids fluttering, pupils rolling back into his head. Lance’s voice cutting through the silence of the jungle is the only thing to shake him out of it.

Keith startles, eyes flying open and an ashamed tint spreading across his cheeks.

“I’m peachy.” He snaps, pushing away from the tree and making it all of two steps before he’s doubling over and sinking to his knees in the dirt. Keith lets out a whimper of sorts, reaching down to cup himself, fingers splayed as he gropes and squeezes as his erection. Lance can’t imagine he feels it all that much, with those aforementioned protective cups built into their suits, but he doesn’t say anything. “Feels like my balls are gonna fucking burst.”

“Jesus.” Lance feels his cock give an earnest twitch of interest at that, which is his queue to turn away and stare at a nearby rock instead of Keith’s writhing form. He isn’t going to let himself be turned on by his friend’s discomfort, that’s slimy. “Uh, okay, maybe we should stop and let you-”

“No. I’m not doing it in front of you.” 

“I’m not going to watch! I’ll just stand guard from a few feet away!” 

“I’m fine, Lance, let’s just keep moving.” Keith’s voice is slightly more even when he speaks this time, no doubt using every ounce of self-restraint he has. Lance turns around, a sympathetic frown stretching across his lips as he watches Keith keep walking. Each step looks like it pains him immeasurably, entire body trembling with the force it takes to keep propelling him forward.

Lance falls into step beside him, bites at his bottom lip and debates whether it’s out of line to wrap an arm under Keith’s shoulders to hold him upright. He keeps swaying with every wave of arousal that barrels through him, leaning into Lance’s side for support unintentionally. In the end, he decides not to, figures Keith will ask if he really needs it.

Then again, Keith is a self-suffering bastard and would probably never ask for help, even if it meant life or death to do so.

And the reminder of that fact comes in the form of Keith crying out and nearly falling face-first into a path of thorns. Lance grabs his arm just in time though, he yanks him back upright and it has Keith’s body colliding with his due to the momentum of it. It’s barely anything in terms of friction, just a wall of weight smashing into Lance’s front, any other time it might even be painful. As it is, it’s glorious, the best thing Lance can ever remember feeling. They both moan in unison, wearing matching wide-eyed expressions as they regard each other afterward.

Keith moves to say something, but in the end he doesn’t. Lance tries to break the silence, but finds he can’t. So they’re at a standstill, staring at each other, Lance’s hands gripping Keith’s arm tightly still as his legs wobble and threaten to give out once more.

“Come on, we’re almost there.” Lance says then, trying to pull Keith by that grip on his arm. But Keith’s body is loose and uncooperative, anything but aiding the movement. He’s gone practically limp, unable to do much else other than cling to Lance’s arm and barely stay standing. When Lance glances down between them, he sees Keith’s hips thrusting into the air, entirely on their own accord. Keith looks completely mortified that Lance is watching it happen, but he still doesn’t stop, which means he probably can’t. 

Lance sighs. “The navi says it’s only like a hundred feet to the lions, I can literally carry you the rest of-”

“Don’t touch me!” Keith shouts, eyes blown wide and frantic, hair a mess of a mane around his face. It would be cute, if Keith wasn’t so obviously panicked. Lance reaches out anyway, knows that this is the only way they’re gonna make it the final stretch of their journey. Keith is in no shape to carry himself and it’s only getting worse for Lance, if they don’t act fast they’ll both be indisposed in the jungle, easy prey for any threats. “Please don’t.”

“Just a piggyback ride, yeah? Nothing intimate about it, I won’t even be able to see your face.” Lance promises him, maneuvering to stand in front of Keith and kneel there. He tosses their helmets aside, plans to pick them up after Keith is situated. Keith hesitates and Lance reaches back to grab his legs, pulls them closer until Keith is practically standing over him. He slowly stands and Keith scrambles to grab on, fingertips digging into the flesh between Lance’s armor plates.

“Oh, oh , fuck, Lance, please, I don’t want-”

“I know, I know, I’m sorry. I know it’s embarrassing. We’re almost there, I swear I’ll leave you alone in Black just as soon as-” Lance cuts himself off, as Keith lets out a low punched-out groan, entire body shuddering against Lance’s back. He can’t feel any difference physically, their suits are waterproof after all, but damn if the shift in atmosphere isn’t immediately obvious. Lance stays perfectly still, completely frozen, as Keith pants against the nape of his neck. “Did you just?”

“I’m so sorry.” Keith’s voice cracks, and suddenly he’s blubbering more than he’s speaking. “I’m so-”

“Hey, no, don’t cry. It’s fine, it’s cool, shit happens, right?” Lance gulps, tries to brush it off as something more casual than it is. He isn’t bothered by it like Keith seems to think he is, he definitely isn’t offended or uncomfortable. It’s just, well, he’s lying to say he’s unaffected in other ways. To know that Keith just came against him, their bodies pressed tight together, Keith’s muscular thighs wrapped around Lance’s midsection and keeping them pinned together. “Do what you needa do. It doesn’t matter to me, Keith, honest. All I care about is getting us back safe.”

Keith doesn’t respond to that, but Lance can’t be bothered to wait on him. Knowing that Keith’s cum is cooling against his cock, that Lance was even indirectly the cause of it… fuck, it does something to Lance’s baser instincts that seem hellbent on calling the shots. He’s vaguely aware of the wet shift in his own boxers, his hard cock drooling pre-cum at the thought of what just transpired.

Lance snatches the helmets up hastily, charges ahead determinedly. He isn’t going to let himself get distracted, no matter what happens. It’s up to him now. It’s his job to stay strong and resist the temptation to stop at the nearest tree, to push Keith up against it and rip his suit down just far enough to get his cock out, to take it into his mouth again and coaxe another orgasm out of-

Fuck.

“So fucking… horny.” Lance mutters uselessly and Keith chuckles behind him. Lance thinks it’s rather cruel, given that he’s been temporarily sated and Lance is still in the rough of it, but then he feels Keith’s hips shift against him again. And again. And again. Keith is humping forward against the small of his back, the dip of his tailbone just before his ass. “You’re still hard? Even after you...?”

“Didn’t even go down.” Keith admits sheepishly, tucking his face into the curve of Lance’s neck, nosing through the short hair wisping there where it’s damp with sweat. Lance swallows roughly. 

Lance’s helmet helpfully reads their coordinates out loud, let’s them know that they’re only twenty feet from the lions just as they start to come into view between the trees. Lance charges on, even as Keith starts to shift and fidget on his back, one hand abandoning its grip on Lance’s shoulder to move down between them and-

“What are you doing?” Lance hisses as soon as he hears the draw of a zipper. He angles himself, looks down between their bodies just in time to watch Keith’s gloved hand pull his cock out through the small slit at the front of their suit. It’s used for convenience of bathroom accessibility, but Keith is taking advantage of it for entirely different uses as he starts to jerk himself off. “Keith!”

“I can’t help it.” Keith whines, pressing his face into Lance’s hair again. “I need it, need to come, fuck-”

“We’re almost there.” Lance pleads with him, trying to reason. He’s not sure he can take this, knowing that Keith is settled on his back and actively getting himself off, touching himself while inhaling Lance’s scent. Nope, no, it’s too much. Lance feels his legs tremble weakly beneath the pair of them, heat pooling in his abdomen and shooting down the length of his cock. It twitches desperately, straining against the fabric.

“Hurts.” 

“I know, I bet it does.” Lance grits his teeth, even as Keith’s hand on his cock grows slicker and starts to make wet little noises with every shift. By some miracle, he manages to stumble the rest of the way to the lions, only nearly dropping Keith twice when he’d let out those pretty keens that had Lance’s entire mind swimming in lust. “Okay, we’re here, fuck. I’ve never been happier to see the lions in my life.”

“Y-Yeah.” Keith agrees, a cute hiccup noise following when he fucks into his fist at just the right angle, makes himself feel good. Lance shifts his weight impatiently as Black lowers his head to the ground, jaw opening and ramp extending. Lance is up like a bolt, carrying Keith straight to the pilot chair.

He all but throws Keith into it, their helmets clattering to the floor in the process.

“There you go.” Lance stumbles backward, tells himself it’s time to leave and retreat to his own lion, as fast as possible, before-

“Ah.” Keith sighs in relief as he wiggles his way out of his bodysuit, armor pieces clanking to the floor haphazardly. In the end, he’s left only dressed from his thighs down, doesn’t even bother to push the bodysuit the rest of the way off. Lance knows it’s a hassle, has gotten his legs tangled in it many a time, so he can’t really judge it. 

There’s just something else about seeing Keith like this; his cock swollen and hard in his hand as he goes back to tugging on it, so fast and unforgiving that Lance isn’t sure how it doesn’t hurt. Still half-wearing his paladin uniform, the tight bodysuit clinging to his legs, while the rest of him is left completely bare and on display. He’s a defender of the universe and he’s reduced to this, hardly anything more than a bitch in heat, so horny he can’t even help himself to stop touching his cock, even while his friend and teammate watches on.

“Fuck, Keith, look at you.” Lance whistles low under his breath, steps closer before he can think any better of it. Keith doesn’t freak out now though, just looks up at Lance through those heavily lidded eyes, then spreads his legs impossibly wider to give him a better view. He hitches his knees over either arm rest, leans back and slips a hand down between them to toy at his rim with his fingers.

“S-Stop it.” Keith pleads, but he can’t stop himself from pushing a finger into himself anyway. He gasps as it sinks past his entrance, hitches it inside of himself and moans at the sensation. Lance watches with hooded eyes, a hint of lingering guilt eating away at him, but consumed by lust more than anything else as he watches Keith rock back against his finger, and up into the curl of his fist. “It’s weird .”

“No, it’s not, it’s fucking hot.” Lance insists, taking another step closer, until he’s looming over Keith and staring down the length of his body. Keith blinks up at him, bottom lip drawn back between his teeth. 

“You really think so?” His pace speeds up as Lance watches him, completely fascinated by the way he works his body. Keith looks so different in this context, spread out and submissive, so much skin on display that Lance doesn’t know where to look first. 

“God, yes.” Lance nods, licking his lips. “You’re so fucking hot, Keith, fuck.” 

The words seem to have an instant effect on Keith, a pleased little smile curling up at the corners of his lips, eyes alight with something flirty as they stare back into Lance’s deep blue ones.

“ Lance .” 

“Yeah, baby?” Lance asks, keeping his voice low with obvious intent. Keith throws his head back in response, crying out as his back arches up into his hand. “You like that? Like being my baby?”

“Close, I’m close, I-” Keith stutters out, the words slurring together until it’s just one long whine.

“That’s it, come for me, baby.” Lance coos, completely caught in the moment, in the electricity sparking between them. Keith comes with a shout, thighs twitching as his cock jerks in his hand. The cum settles across his stomach in heavy streaks, painting his pale skin white. Keith shudders through it, until the cum is only a weak dribble that travels down the length of his shaft, traces the outline of each the barbs lining the underside. Lance watches curiously as Keith flicks his thumb across them, almost absentmindedly as he basks in the lingering pleasure.

Lance stares dumbly for a long moment, wishing indescribably that it was his hand on Keith, exploring his body and familiarizing himself with the best way to handle that foreign cock. It’d be easier now, when he’s able to watch and document every one of Keith’s reactions. So much more personal, so much realer.

Lance blinks.

This isn’t the stranger he’d imagined in the bathroom stall, this is his teammate and his friend, this is Keith.

It isn’t just a hypothetical sex fantasy anymore, it is real, painstakingly so. He can’t risk messing this up.

“I should go, I should-”

“Stay.” Keith says, voice surprisingly even. It throws Lance for a loop, has him freezing again before he can even turn to leave, to get out of Keith’s space. Keith is still splayed out for him, but there’s enough lucidity in his gaze that it’s obvious he knows what he’s asking for. “I know you want to, Lance. I want you to, too. It’ll be easier to get through this together. Go ahead, get yourself off.”

Slowly, Keith’s legs uncurl from where they’d been gripping the armrests, instead stretching out to wrap languidly around Lance’s waist and pull him in another step. Lance doesn’t even fight it, he doesn’t have the strength to. He just let’s Keith draw him in like a moth to a flame.

“Fuck.” Lance curses under his breath, watching as Keith eases his finger out of himself, instead gets his hands on the front of Lance’s suit and unzips the cut-out in the front. He pulls Lance’s cock through, deft fingers working over it, calloused hands providing delicious friction to where Lance has needed it so badly for so long. He moans, he can’t help it, needy and uninhibited.

“Yours is so pretty.” Keith mutters, almost distractedly, as he uses both hands to pull and rub on Lance’s hard cock. He’s already close, after waiting so long for this moment, the full effects of the pollen pulling at his body and urging it to come as quickly as it possibly can. It doesn’t help that Keith is so open about his admiration, eyes lidded with lust as he leans back in the pilot’s seat and spreads his legs wide again, something all too inviting about his posture. Like Lance could just… sink home and fuck him, just like that, and Keith would welcome it.

Lance reaches down and bats Keith’s hands away, gets himself off shamelessly fast. It’s a matter of fifteen seconds, give or take a couple, and then he’s coming hard over Keith’s naked body and adding to the mess already drying against his skin. He watches as his come splatters across Keith’s entire lower half, messy and uncalculated, because the last thing Lance was thinking about when he came was damage control for the mess. It covers his cock and his stomach, his thighs and then further between them. Globs of cum trail down the apex of Keith’s legs, down to where his asshole is twitching needily around the sudden emptiness of missing Keith’s finger.

“Jesus.” Lance breathes.

They’re both panting, relishing in the limited amount of come-down time that they’re given through the haze of the pollen. The itch beneath Lance’s skin never falters, not even for a second, but his cock only seems capable of so much so soon after orgasm. Thank god, because the sight in front of him would be enough to have him coming on the spot all over again, as Keith runs his gloved hand through the mess on his stomach and then sucks the cum from between his fingers.

Fuck.

Lance shakes himself out of his stupor, tries to think of the questions he should probably be asking right now to make sure this is as safe and consensual as it can get. If they’re going to do this, he wants to do it right, wants to show Keith that this is far from just a convenience fuck. 

But, instead of the perfectly planned series of questions Lance has planned, he speaks with his dick again. His gaze is glued to Keith’s cock, to the swell of his balls, the slope of the length, the ridges he remembers all too well from pressing into his tongue. Fuck.

“Has it been an alien dick your whole life? Like, surely you must have figured out something wasn’t human about you before finding the Blade, right?”

“Didn’t happen until puberty.” Keith admits, eyes downcast like that makes the topic less personal. The discomfort on his face is obvious and Lance curses himself for not segueing into the conversation with a little more finesse. “I never told anyone. I never showed anyone. I didn’t know what was wrong with it.”

“You never showed anyone... until you found an alien gloryhole?” Lance pieces together, takes a shot in the dark that lands dead on. Keith flushes even deeper, deeper than Lance thought possible, and sinks back further into the cushions of his seat. He’s so embarrassed and Lance is too far gone at this point to stop himself from finding it adorable.

“It seemed like the perfect opportunity.”

“So, I was-”

“My first. Yeah.” Keith tells him, a hint of self-consciousness behind the words. He hardly needs to feel nervous about it though, not when he’s just admitted to the hottest thing Lance has possibly ever heard in his life. 

The jolt of pride and possessiveness that hits him would be overwhelming at the best of times, but with alien sex pollen clouding his thoughts it rubs him in all the right ways. Has him aching to cum again, but more importantly: to make Keith cum. Lance is overcome with the desire to take that virgin body apart with his hands over and over again and show Keith how good he can make him feel. That sloppy bathroom blowjob was really just the beginning of it.

“Fuck, baby.” Lance curses, leaning forward and bracing his hand on the headrest of Keith’s chair. He leans over him, slots their bodies closer together until their cocks are pressed tightly together. Given that Lance’s own arousal is back to a pleasant and very much there simmer, it comes as no surprise to find that Keith’s is already red hot and raring to go again. At the first brush of contact, Keith’s entire body lights up like a livewire.

He starts trying to hump up against Lance, hands darting up to pull uselessly at Lance’s armor until it’s clattering to the floor alongside his own. Lance leaves Keith in charge of undressing him, more focused on the drag of their hips together. Every other thrust their cocks line up just right and it has Lance biting down on his tongue to keep from crying out, the stimulation finally enough, but the rub of those spines lining Keith’s shaft against the sensitive flesh of Lance’s own cock is borderline painful. It’s too much and not enough all at once, and Lance can’t bring himself to stop.

“Never came so hard in my fucking life. Your mouth is out of this world.” Keith blurts, as he loses himself in the memory. Lance’s fingertips dig tightly into the cushion, bordering on a painful grip, as he fucks back against Keith’s writhing body with more urgency. “G-God, when you first wrapped your lips around me, it was everything I could do not to come on the spot. I tried so hard to last, but it was so hard .”

“Keith.” Lance growls out, leaning down to push their foreheads together. Keith blinks up at him almost lazily, mouth dropping open so he can pant openly for air. Lance is overwhelmed by the urge to kiss it, to lick his tongue inside and claim every part of Keith as his own. Instead, he forces himself to reply through the sensations wracking his frame. “Lots of practice. School slut.”

“Worth it.” Keith grinds back against him, even as his hands wander to the nape of Lance’s neck to start tugging the bodysuit off of his frame. Most of the metal has been discarded except for his leg pieces, which were well out of Keith’s reach. He steps back to shuck them off quickly, to kick his suit off completely and get naked.

Keith watches him idly, bucking into the air uselessly in search of the lost friction.

“So sexy.” Keith tells him, as he rakes his eyes over Lance’s naked form. He sits up in his seat properly to get a better view, hitches a finger to beckon Lance closer. He goes willingly, eagerly, settles into Keith’s lap and makes himself comfortable there. Immediately, he starts to rock and grind down against Keith’s cock, hungry for it.

As they fall back into rhythm and lose themselves to the pleasure again, Lance finds himself rattling off without thinking.

“Thought your dick was so fucking sexy. God. My first thought when I saw it was how good it’d feel inside of me. Mm. Those fucking barbs rubbing up against me, like a ribbed dildo or some shit, fuck.” Lance grunts, feeling himself grow impossibly closer. He’s leaking pre-cum steadily now, or maybe Keith is, all he knows is that it’s wet and slick between where their bodies are meeting and it makes for the most overwhelming smooth glide of skin against skin.

“Really?” Keith pulls back, looks the slightest bit perplexed. Lance only hesitates for a second before surging forward to kiss that lost pout right off his lips. Their mouths meet in an almost clumsy clash, but they get with the picture surprisingly fast. Lance leads, but Keith is eagerly keeping up to him, a quick learner like he is in every other area of life. 

Lance’s tongue laps into his mouth and Keith sucks on it, pushes back against it with just the right amount of resistance to be coy. The sharp points of his fangs threaten to pierce Lance’s lip more than once, as Keith bites down and draws him back in whenever they start to drift apart. Keith is into it, more than any of Lance’s partners have ever been into making out. Keith loves it, the give and take, the push and pull, the heat of tasting Lance on his tongue.

When they finally pull apart, it’s only because Lance can hardly breathe between the lack of air and the orgasm barreling toward him.

Immediately, he finds the words coming back to him, fast and impatient.

“I’ve thought about it every night since. Thinking it was you definitely wasn’t enough to make me stop thinking about it. If anything, it made me want it more. I knew it was wrong. Felt kinda guilty. But fuck, that cock , Keith. All I wanted was to get fucked by it. By you. Wanted to feel it pressed so deeply inside of me that I could feel it in my throat. Fuck, fuck-”

Lance comes with a shout, spilling white between their bodies and coating Keith’s cock with the mess as they continue to rut together. Keith practically spasms beneath him, hands scrambling across the plane of Lance’s back in search of purchase, crying out sharply as his cockhead drags against where Lance’s is still spurting cum. Needless to say, Keith is quickly adding to the mess between their stomachs.

Lance feels tacky and sticky all over as he settles back on Keith’s lap, puts a few inches of space between their crotches as they catch their breath and try to relax after their climaxes. 

“You…” Keith has his head tilted downward, is just barely eyeing Lance behind the curtain of his bangs, but there’s a blatant curiosity there that has Lance feeling eager to please. It’s clear that Keith wants to ask him something, and Lance will be damned if he doesn’t deliver.

“What?” Lance reaches up, cups Keith’s chin and tilts it upward so their eyes can meet properly. 

“You’d really let me fuck you with it?” 

“God, yes, baby. Of course I would. I want it so badly.” Lance ducks down to brush their lips together in a fleeting kiss. Keith leans into it in search of more, but Lance leans away before they can dissolve into another nasty makeout session. He wants a more straightforward answer before they proceed any further. “Do you want to, Keith? Wanna fuck me with your freaky alien dick?”

It’s half a joke, half a flirty line, Lance’s voice lands somewhere in the middle but it seems to hit Keith the same way everything else does with his pollen-addled brain. He moans, hips hitching forward, hands landing on Lance’s legs and smoothing across his inner thighs.

“ Yes .”

“Are you sure, I don’t wanna do anything you might regret lat-” Lance starts to say, making an honest effort to be the responsible one when he knows Keith inhaled far more of the pollen than he did. But he doesn’t get any further before Keith’s hands on his thighs are sliding inward, down between his legs, fingertips probing exploratorily behind his balls. “Hey! Keith! Have some patience!”

“Can’t.” Keith grits out, but the wolfish smirk he wears argues otherwise, that maybe he’s acting like this on purpose. His pointer finger catches on the rim of Lance’s entrance and presses, not enough pressure to breach it, but enough to have Lance jolting to sit straighter and spread his legs wider. Eager for it.

“Go on then, what are you waiting for?”

“It’s gonna feel so good.” Keith taps his finger against Lance’s hole, and the give is ridiculous as Lance’s body threatens to suck it inside hungrily. Lance’s eyes widen and he lets out a startled moan, body rocking back against the finger until it finally catches and slips inside to the first knuckle, meeting no resistance at all. He feels properly lubed up and stretched already. “You’re wet down here. Like a pussy.”

“I am not .” Lance hisses, reaching behind himself and fumbling around until he’s pressing a finger against his rim next to Keith’s. He’s out to prove a point, but instead he stands immediately corrected, the entire crevice of his ass slicked with an obnoxious amount of wetness. He rubs his fingertip through the mess of it, giggles at the lewd squelch it makes. “Oh shit, I am ... fuck, that’s kinda hot.”

“Lance, stop it.”

“Can’t. Feels so fucking good.” Lance’s breath hitches as he sinks a finger in alongside Keith’s, presses in deep beside it. He tries scissoring them apart, doesn’t even feel the ache of the stretch. His eyes fall lightly shut, savoring the feeling of being filled as Keith slowly starts to thrust his finger back and forth, giving in to the pull of the heat radiating from Lance’s core. “I’m so wet. So wet for you, baby. Could probably push your big fat cock inside of me just like this.”

“You’re a pervert.” Keith grumbles, but Lance can hear the way his voice shakes. 

“So, did the plant just diagnose me with bottom or are you-”

“I am too, I noticed it earlier.” Keith confirms, looking sheepish about it. Lance groans at the thought, scrubbing his hands across his face. Keith leans in, kisses across his cheeks and up his jaw, drawing Lance’s attention back to him needily. “Maybe I’ll let you fuck me next go round, yeah?”

“Christ, Keith, you can’t just say that.”

“Why not? It’s obvious that one round isn’t gonna satisfy either of us. We’re gonna be at this until our dicks are raw and chafing.” Keith shrugs, leans back and pats his lap. Lance takes the hint, clambers on top of him again, sinks a couple more fingers inside to test the limits and shivers at how easy his body sucks them in. He pulls them free, spreads the slick over Keith’s shaft, pays special attention to those little barbs. Keith groans at the feeling, reaches down to grab Lance’s wrist in warning.

He’s close already, Lance knows he is, just from the thought of getting to sink into the tight heat of Lance’s ass. His hand gripping Lance’s is trembling and the grip is anything but firm, like he can’t bring himself to fully say no to immediate satisfaction when he needs it so badly.

“You really know how to dirty talk a guy.” Lance jokes, tacking on a wink. “Shut up and fuck me, yeah?”

“Roger that.” Keith grunts out, letting go of Lance’s wrist to help lead his straining cock to Lance’s rim, the tapered tip slides inside as easily as the first finger had. The next few inches are a stretch that Lance hardly feels, a grin stretching across his face as he takes it deeper and deeper, feeling only the pleasure of being filled. Keith starts to push deeper and Lance feels those barbs along the underside of his cock catch on his rim, just enough to feel before they’re pushing past and sinking inside to torture him deeper. 

“God.” Lance hardly even recognizes his own voice like this, high-pitched and reedy, desperate to get fucked how he really wants it already. Normally he leads into that desperation, works up to a point with slow sex until he can get fucked to an inch of his life how he really likes. He doesn’t think he needs the warm-up period at all today.

When Lance eventually comes back to himself enough to look up, the sight that welcomes him is an immediately addicting one. Keith’s entire face is screwed up with pleasure, mouth hanging slightly agape, cheeks flushed the most beautiful shade of red. He looks like he’s about to bust already and Lance could hardly blame him, this is definitely an overwhelming context to lose one’s virginity in.

“Does it hurt? I’m not sure how long I can stay still.” Keith sounds wrecked .

“ Hurt ?” Lance can’t help the bubbly giggle that erupts out of him, amusement obvious. He tips his head back, laughs into the humid air of the cockpit. 

Keith growls like Lance is teasing him, leaning forward to latch onto the open space of Lance’s neck. He sucks at the smooth skin there, claims it thoroughly with his teeth and tongue, surely leaving marks behind. Lance whimpers, Keith’s fangs nicking his skin with each swipe. He tries to squirm away from it, but it only works to drive the cock in his ass inside deeper, the barbs rubbing up against his walls and leaving him slack-jawed and moaning into the air instead. 

“You sure you’re good?” Keith tries again, but his restraint is clearly slipping. Lance can feel it in the way his nails are digging into his skin, gripping his hips so tightly to keep Lance from moving around.

“So good, baby, fuck.” Lance assures him, slurring his words as he desperately tries to wet his lips. He feels too hot all of the sudden, on fire as Keith’s cockhead rests deep inside of him and adds to the wetness already seeping out of him around the cock in his ass. Fuck. 

“Can I fuck you now?” Keith asks, his tone adorably earnest. Lance nods.

Immediately, Keith bucks up roughly underneath of him, driving himself in with a wet resounding noise and the slap of skin against skin. Lance cries out, gripping the headrest for support once again, hanging on for dear life as Keith wraps his arms around Lance’s midsection for leverage. He practically guides the body on his lap, uses it like nothing more than a fucktoy. He lifts and drops Lance easily, does most of the work of leading him, until he’s taking his cock again and again at such a rapid pace it leaves him with no reprieve.

Lance comes embarrassingly fast, with Keith’s cock battering his prostate and rubbing inside of him with constant stimulation. His ass tightens around Keith, tries to milk his cock for all its worth, and earns a low groan for its trouble. Keith trembles and bites down on Lance’s shoulder as he spills inside, the added wetness unmistakable when there’s so much of it. Lance isn’t sure if it’s a Galra thing or a sex pollen thing, but Keith has cum to spare, has enough to leave Lance’s belly feeling distended around it.

“Your cock is the gift that keeps on giving. Can’t believe you spent your whole life hating it. I might have to fuck around and worship it for the rest of mine to make up for it. It’s perfect.” Lance laughs, reaching down between his legs to wander, gripping and teasing the base of Keith’s cock where it isn’t buried inside of him. His hands slips lower, cups Keith’s heavy balls, rolls them against his palm.

“You’re perfect.” Keith counters, his voice surprisingly shy considering the context. Lance glances up at him with a crooked smile, relieved to find Keith is grinning back at him just as openly. They come together gentler this time, the kiss filled with emotion rather than just overwhelming lust. It’s a different kind of embrace, as they saturate in the few seconds of relief they’ve been granted.

Of course, eventually the white hot lust starts to pool at the edge of Lance’s thoughts again, demanding in nature until it’s all he can think about. Every part of him is screaming to be fucked and filled, again and again, until he can’t take it anymore.

“ Keith .” Lance drawls against his lips, as they slowly pull away from each other. When Keith’s eyes flutter open, they reflect the same animalistic need that Lance is sinking into again. Lance swallows roughly around the lump in his throat, bounces his hips a few times, already feeling oversensitive where Keith’s cock clings to his inner walls. It’s a delicious sort-of overwhelming though, so Lance keeps riding him, writhing in his lap until Keith is growing visibly frustrated by the slow pace. 

Luckily, Lance has the solution. “T-The floor. Fuck me on the floor, I need it harder.”

They hit the floor in a tangle of limbs, Keith practically tackling him off the chair. It’s anything but a graceful landing, but the pain of it is quickly forgotten, replaced by the sensation of Keith wrenching his legs open wide and pressing deeper between them. He wastes no time, immediately starts to hump into him. His thrusts are short and hard, barely drawing out before he’s pressing deep inside again.

“Yes, just like that.” Lance moans, hands sliding across the floor of the cockpit. Keith is a wall of muscle above him, determined to plow him into the ground with a lack of forgiveness that has heat pooling through Lance whether he’s ready for it again or not. There’s just something about it that always gets to Lance, has in every other context where Keith has pushed him around and pinned him like this, but it’s even more intense with a thick cock up his ass. “You’re doing me so well, fuck. Making me feel so good.”

Even as he keeps babbling uselessly through it, Lance knows his praise is falling on deaf ears.

Keith is faraway from the moment, transfixed by the slide of his cock into Lance’s insides, caught under a spell by the way they fit together so perfectly. He’s out of his mind with it, greedily chasing more of the feeling with all he has. Lance praises him, but he knows Keith is hardly thinking about Lance at this point, and Lance isn’t really thinking about how it feels for Keith either.

It’s selfish, just a raw need to get off for both parties.

“You’re so tight. I can’t get over it.” Keith blurts out of nowhere, reaching down to where they’re connected and simply feeling it. Lance shivers in embarrassment, only cringing more at the wanton cry that rips its way out of his throat when Keith slips a finger in alongside his cock. “It’s like I can barely pull back out, your ass just keeps pulling me deeper inside.”

“Who’s the pervert now?” Lance manages weakly, but he can barely speak around the amounting fire, burning hot through the whole of his body, spreading like a wildfire. He’s going to come again, around Keith’s cock and his finger, stretched wide for it and begging for more like a whore.

When Lance comes, he sobs like it’s been punched out of him, pried up through his throat and dragged out. His cock feels much the same, as it twitches and spasms against Keith’s abdomen, the orgasm forced out of it again before it’s anywhere near ready to take it. It’s a wonder his cock is still producing anything at all, but it’s considerably less this time as it splatters across Keith’s skin. 

Distantly, Lance thinks if this keeps up much longer, he’ll be coming dry.

Keith hunches over him, pants brokenly into Lance’s hair. His control is slipping away again, any semblance of a rhythm forgotten in favor of speed. It’s jerky and uncoordinated, but it’s clearly doing it for Keith. He’s making these broken little noises, whines and whimpers more than anything, as his cock gets ready to spill again.

“I can’t-”

“Come on, Keith, let go.” Lance assures him, trying to sound soothing against the face of so much blinding pressure. Keith doesn’t comment though, probably doesn’t even notice in his haze. All of his attention is focused on chasing his high, no matter the cost. 

He’s rough about it, Lance’s entire body jostled with each thrust, sweat-slicked and sliding against the metal flooring. Keith just grips his hips and keeps him there though, forces him to take it, the battering of his cockhead against Lance’s oversensitive prostate, the drag of his barbs catching inside of Lance and dragging against him. Lance cries out each time he’s filled again, stretched to the brim around the massive cock, but it doesn’t hurt as much as it probably should. Instead, it’s just too much, too soon.

“I’m gonna-” Keith doesn’t even attempt to finish, just thrusts in deep one last time and immediately starts dumping his load as deep inside of Lance as he can reach. Keith grunts through it, hips shallowly shifting to push his seed deeper into Lance’s body and keep it there. He doesn’t pull out afterward, just stays there and keeps him plugged full. 

“That’s it, baby, fill me up.” Lance laughs to himself, tipping his head back to rest against the floor now that it’s over for another few seconds. 

He can still feel Keith’s cock twitching inside of him and he purposely clenches around it, relishes in the way Keith’s entire body shudders and then collapses against him. Keith’s weight pins him to the floor, but Lance wasn’t planning on going anywhere anytime soon anyway.

Keith comes back to himself a little bit slower this time, nearly a minute passing before he stirs.

“Lance?”

“How was that?” Lance asks, reaching up to cup his face and wipe away some of the gathering sweat there. Keith closes his eyes again, nuzzles into Lance’s palm and stays there. Tired. Exhaustion setting in even though they both know the fire has hardly been stoked. 

“Do it another ten times and I might be satisfied.” Keith says, lips twitching slightly, fighting the urge to smile at his own joke. Lance rolls his eyes, but it doesn’t feel entirely like a joke, and he wonders if it might not be. The thought of doing that again ten more times has Lance’s poor asshole twitching weakly, fluttering around Keith’s base. At the same time, Lance can already feel lust invading his every thought and a sick part of him wants it. He wants Keith to take him again and again, until he’s so full with cum that he looks like a well-bred bitch.

He flushes at his thoughts, realizing Keith’s been staring at his face this whole time.

“Am I a masochist for liking the sound of that?”

--

“Keith? Lance? Do you copy?” Shiro’s voice cuts through the pleasant fogginess of unconscious and Lance stirs slightly, pulls his face out of Keith’s hair and blinks blearily around the cockpit. Shiro isn’t inside with them, it’s coming from the comms. Lance tries to concentrate on the words being spoken to him, but he’s still feeling pretty asleep. “Keith! Lance! I said, do you copy? We’re outside. Black won’t let us in, we need to know if you’re alright. It’s been nine hours since we last heard from you, are you alive in th-”

“Shut the fuck up!” Lance shouts, hands cupped around his mouth so the sound will hopefully carry through to outside and the others will be able to hear him. He’s far too lazy to actually walk over and turn the comms on to respond that way, so hopefully they get the memo.

Lance settles back down into Keith’s arms, rests his head on the flat plane of his chest.

“Couldn’t have said it better myself.” Keith mumbles a few seconds later, a quiet huff of laughter filtering past his lips. It’s quiet though, tired, and it’s obvious the exhaustion has set in heavy for the both of them and isn’t passing any time soon. Keith wraps an arm around Lance’s stomach, pulls him in closer. “You sore?”

“Let me answer your question by asking you to imagine a scenario.” Lance is rambly at the best of times, but 3especially in this half-asleep state. “You have sex for six hours straight, rough and unforgiving, until your ass feels raw. Now, this is the plot twist, imagine the dick railing you into the dirt is covered in fine little fleshy spikes that rub up against your walls, trying to hook on and keep the goods from pulling back out with every thrust. Tell me, Keith, how do you think my ass feels right now, based on this scenario I’ve painted for you?”

“Sorry.” Keith mutters into Lance’s hair, pressing a chaste kiss to his temple. Lance scowls deeply into Keith’s chest, but presses up into the kiss all the time. A warm sigh, sweet and slow like honey, slips past his lips unapproved. Keith kisses him again, lips lingering this time. “You said you thought it was hot.”

“In theory.” Lance corrects, lifting his head despite the ache in all of his muscles. It’s worth it, though, he decides almost immediately. Keith is staring up at him with this look, all adoring and soft, so damned filled with loved that even Lance catches himself heating up in a nervous blush. It’s almost too much, to be looked at with such reverence, to be cherished like this. 

Lance averts his eyes, stares down at Keith’s chest and traces the outline of his pecs with a wandering fingertip. “Alright, maybe it’s hot in practice, but all good things should come in moderation.”

“Alien fucker.” Keith accuses, but it’s playful, light, and even the insult comes across as a confession of love in its own right. Lance smiles before he even fully registers the comment, the familiar back and forth comfortable in the face of so many new and overwhelming changes. He leans down, pressing a kiss to the corner of Keith’s lips.

Sneakily, his hand snakes down between them, ever so carefully traces around the spines of Keith’s cock.

The reaction is instant, Keith’s entire body locking up beneath him, tensing so firmly that Lance can feel the muscles flex beneath his stomach. It’s sorta hot. Even when Keith gives him that reprimanding look, bushy eyebrows scrunched together in disapproval. Lance purses his lips, blows him a kiss.

“Boldly going where no man has gone before.”