Work Text:
Lance wakes up to a text.
More like, he’s rudely jolted awake at seven in the fucking morning by his phone beeping right in his ear.
He groans, rolling over and running a hand through his hair. His skin is a mess, due to the fact he didn’t have time to do his skincare routine last night before crashing into the realm of dreams.
Lance’s phone beeps again. He groans louder, sweeping it off the floor and pressing his thumb to the unlock button.
As the phone unlocks, he catches a quick glance of two texts from a number doesn’t know. Lance taps over to the text app, and opens the thread. The first one is a picture of a sharp alabaster jawline decorated with red and pink teeth marks. The second is text, look what you’ve done, followed by a little angry face emoji.
It’s adorable.
Lance grins, instantly awake, and types out a response. looks good to me. He adds a smug little winky face.
ughhhhhh, Keith types back. You know this is too high to be hidden by any shirt I own? I will NOT go into work wearing a turtleneck.
Lance’s grin widens, and he bites his lip. it’s the price u have to pay for getting this sweet ass.
As if, Keith shoots back.
There’s about half a minute where neither of them text. Little typing dots appear by Keith’s name, but they quickly disappear.
i’m so mad, Lance types. i just found out my sister managed to fuck a cop before me and i’m S O M A D
Who, Keith shoots back. I need blackmail information, Lance, WHO DID SHE FUCK THIS IS SERIOUS?
Lance giggles, then waits a second, weighing his chances. After about ten seconds of deliberation, he shrugs and decides if he’s going to die, he’s going to do it spectacularly. acxa smth. idk her last name.
Acxa????? Keith responds. IS YOUR SISTER VERONICA MCCLAIN???
Lance winces and smiles at the same time. ...oops, he sends back.
LANCE!!!! Keith sends back. LANCE, OH MY GOD.
...small world? He shoots back hopefully. Keith responds with a facepalming emoji.
srsly tho, Lance types, i had no idea who u were until i got back.
How did you only know then? Keith's response arrives with a little bloop. I would have remembered meeting you.
Lance sends a smug winky face. u bet u wouldv.
Lance. He can practically hear Keith’s exasperation.
right, he types back. i got back and accidentally said your name was keith so pidge managed to pick it up from cop and keith and the fact that ur my type.
WAIT, YOU KNOW PIDGE??? Keith shoots back. FUUUUUCK!!
yeah we’ve been bffs forever, lance sends back. she’s like three yrs younger than me but she’s so damn smart it doesn’t matter.
I’m so fucked, Keith sends. Once Shiro finds out about this, I’m so fucked.
i thought you liked getting fucked ;), Lance types out.
I really shouldn’t have sex with you again, Keith anwers.
Lance sends a frowny face. y? bc u know me?
No, because your sister is fucking my partner, and your my brother’s best friend’s little sister’s friend. I refuse to be a cliche.
Lance grins, and wriggles a bit beneath the blankets. babe,,,, u own a motorcycle. ur already cliche.
Pidge told you about the motorcycle?
Lance types out a winky face. guess it might be nice to see u riding something else for a change.
God, I hate you, Keith sends back. It’s almost like Lance can hear him grumble over text. I hate you but I want to fuck you. Is this normal?
Lance grins even wider. His face feels like it’s about to split. nothing’s normal with my sick bod.
Ughh, do not turn into a fuckboy. If you do, this relationship is over.
Lance rolls over, his hip starting to ache from digging into the tough floorboards. relationship, huh?
There’s a few seconds of radio silence. Then Keith’s response chimes in. If you want, fuckboy.
u say the sweetest things, Lance types out. that’s a yes, btw. let’s go on a date, emo kid.
It’s like he can see Keith shaking his head in exasperation. Pidge told you?
Lance quickly types out a response. she described it as a ‘reincarnation of the pop punk era’, yea.
Keith’s response is succinct and sharp. He sends, Fuck.
He looks even better in the sunlight.
It glints off Keith’s dark hair and jacket, highlighting how truly pale his skin is. Lance knows he looks better under the sun too; his skin shines like Rapunzul’s frickin hair.
Bless his Cuban genes.
They go for coffee. Lance knows a good place that (hopefully) none of his siblings will be at to spy on him. He orders his usual drink with a tongue-twisting name, while Keith gets a plain coffee.
Black.
“I cannot believe I agreed to go on a date with you,” Lance groans. For a second, something akin to fear flashes over Keith’s face. “I mean, black coffee? What are you, some kind of demon?”
Keith grins. It looks good on him. “Wouldn’t you like to know?” He shoots back, right before taking a sip.
Keith doesn’t even wince. Bastard.
“Ughh,” Lance groans. “You’re lucky you’re so pretty.”
Keith rolls his eyes, but Lance sees the tiny smile that blossoms from it.
“So,” Lance starts. “On a scale of one to ten, would you arrest me if I told you a story about me doing something slightly illegal?”
Keith frowns. His eyebrows scrunch all up, and it looks adorable. “That scale does not make sense.”
“Answer the question, Kogane.”
Keith sighs. “No, I will not arrest you, because then you’d meet Shiro.”
“Good,” Lance says, scrunching up his nose. “Because let me tell you, shit went crazy. Veronica fell through the roof. Pidge stole four wallets, two jackets, and someone’s car keys, and Nadia Rizabi broke two fingers and a couple glasses after she lost beer pong.”
“Oh god,” Keith says, laughing a little through his hand. “I think I remember this. Acxa busted it, right?”
Lance nods with a grin. “You do not know how scary it is when some hot chick in purple lipstick with a gun tries to haul you into a police van?”
Keith holds up a hand. “How didn’t you get arrested?”
Lance shrugs. “Veronica flirted with her, and I ran. Acxa was too interested to chase after me.”
“I should have known that’s how those two met,” Keith curses. “This is amazing. I have so much blackmail material now.” He looks into Lance’s eyes, biting down on a grin. “Tell me more.”
Lance does.
They talk for almost an hour.
After Lance finishes the glorious story of how Acxa almost dragged him in the slammer, Keith responds with one about his first few days as a cop. He’s actually dying and he had no idea Matt was that passionate about robots.
Then again, he’s Pidge’s brother. What did he expect?
The date starts to wind down after about an hour. Keith’s coffee is long since gone, and Lance is sipping on whipped cream dregs.
The waitress brings them the check. Lance slips in a twenty to cover both of them.
“Lance,” Keith says with a frown.
“Dude, I’m an adult. I am paying for this date. Just because I’m in college doesn’t mean I’m completely broke.”
Keith holds up his hands. He knocks back whatever dregs of his coffee are left. “Ok,” he says, tossing his cup into the trash can ten feet away.
Of course, he lands it in. Of course.
Lance cannot deal with this man. He grabs his forearm and drags him out of the chair. “Ok, we’re going now.”
“What?” Keith asks, nonplussed. “Where?”
“To your apartment,” Lance says. “You really thought you’d be able to get away from this date without me fucking you? No way.”
Keith grins and follows suit.
“Did you walk here?” he asks, as Lance practically drags him out of the cafe.
“What?”
Keith rolls his eyes. “Stop thinking about fucking me and pay attention.”
Lance's face flushes red, but he doesn’t deny it. In fact, one of his hands sneaks around Keith’s waist, brushing over the edge of his belt line. “Yeah, I walked.”
“Good,” Keith says, leaning back into his wandering hand, “then you can ride home with me.”
He jerks his head to the side, where, parked against a bike rack, is probably the most beautiful motorcycle he’s ever seen. It’s all shiny black with red accents slicing through the metal, each one sharp and rigid. That thing doesn’t even deserve to be touching the dirty bike rack with how pretty it is.
“This is Red,” Keith says, walking over and undoing the locks.
“It’s black,” Lance blurts out, proving himself to be the most idiotic person ever.
Keith grins wryly. “It has red accents. Besides, Shiro’s motorcycle is already named Black so I can’t steal the name.” He pulls the bike off the rack and rolls it out a little, swinging his leg over the seat, and… fuck.
Holy fuck.
“Lance?” Keith asks. “Are you… are you ok?”
Oh shit. This boy is going to fucking murder him.
Ok, first, curse Keith for having muscular thighs. Now, Lance knows his own thighs are something to die for, but he’s always been obnoxiously lean. He couldn’t seem to put on muscle mass, no matter how much he tried, and that’s not just on his legs, but his stomach and his arms too.
But Keith?
Keith’s going to kill him with his legs. Seriously, can Keith murder him with those thighs? Just… wrap his legs around Lance’s head and oh, fuck.
“Lance?” Keith repeats. “Lance!”
“I’m gonna wreck your ass,” he chokes out, eyes wide and his breathing unsteady. Keith’s pale cheeks flush pink, and he bites his tongue. He jerks his head to the expanse of seats behind him. “Get on, cowboy.”
Lance manages to find enough coordination to walk forward and perch himself on the seat behind Keith. He wiggles in, wrapping his arms around Keith’s waist and pressing their legs together. He feels Keith tense, then untense all in a few seconds.
Lance rests his chin on Keith’s shoulder. “What are you waiting for, cowboy?”
They don’t bother pressing anyone against the door this time.
Shoes and jackets and shirts are shed within seconds, falling to the ground in a telltale trail of debauchery as they stumble towards Keith’s bedroom. Keith’s lips are hot and hungry on his, but something about this time is... different.
Lance knows what it is.
He’s in control.
He pushes Keith onto his bed, crawling over him without a second thought. His hands rake up Keith’s stomach, one staying on path and sliding upwards to cup his jaw as they kiss, while the other wanders off to grope his ass.
“Meant what I said,” Lance gets out between kisses. Keith’s mouth slides down to his neck, kissing and biting with a vengeance. “I really am gonna wreck your ass.” Lance punctures this with a grind of his hips.
“Then do it,” Keith gasps, his mouth hovering over Lance’s ear. He sounds breathless, hopeful, and hungry at the same time.
It’s like something in Lance’s brain finally clicks into place. The crazed thirst he was feeling before, to give Keith everything all at once, drains away. His mind clears the more he stares at Keith, who still looks desperate and needy.
He dips into the nook of Keith’s neck, mouthing at his collarbone. Not hard enough to leave marks, but hard enough to have him feel it. Keith gasps, almost quiet enough to be indistinguishable. “Lance,” he gasps. His voice is breathy and soft. “Lance, what--”
“You like fast, I like slow,” Lance murmurs into his ear. “And if I’m in charge…”
“Fuck,” Keith groans. “Lance, come on, how slow are you going to--”
Lance pops the button on Keith’s jeans and yanks them off his legs. “Not that slow,” he admits, “but slow enough.”
“Fuck,” Keith swears, slaming his head back on the pillow. “Lance-- fuck.”
Lance presses his mouth to Keith’s sternum, to the conjunction of his ribs, then slowly makes his way down to his navel. He lets his tongue trail along the firm planes of Keith’s stomach, and holds Keith’s hips down when he rocks them upwards with reckless abandon.
“Not yet,” he whispers. “I’m still getting you back for the tights.” He presses his mouth to the sculpted flesh of Keith’s thigh, working a mark into pale porcelain skin.
Keith’s thighs quiver like they’re about to squeeze around his head, and Lance almost loses it at that very thought.
He hooks a finger around the waistband of Keith’s underwear, pulling it down slowly and surely.
“Fuck, fuck, fuck,” Keith curses. “Lance-- fuck, come on.”
“Not yet,” Lance whispers, taking his time and lowering his mouth between Keith’s legs. He dances his tongue over the crux of them, and hooks Keith’s legs over his shoulders.
“Shit,” Keith swears, looking down at him. His hair is a mess-- probably a byproduct of writhing against the pillow-- and his starlight eyes are blown wide. One of his hands digs into Lance’s hair, tugging as his fingers curl.
Lance presses one last kiss to the inside of Keith’s thigh, before he dives into the theoricial deep end.
“Fuck!” Keith cries. He throws his head back, chest arching against the mattress. “Lance--” His voice breaks. “Holy fuck, Lance, just like that.”
Lance grins as best as he can, before pushing his tongue deeper, curling it upwards in an effort to find that one spot, that one spot that made Keith scream so deliciously before--
He finds it.
And Keith breaks.
He makes an amorphous noise that Lance couldn’t describe if he tried, something between a whine and a scream, and clenches his thighs around Lance’s head with so much force it almost hurts.
Almost.
Lance grins into Keith’s skin, before stretching his tongue deeper, farther, and watching Keith slowly fall apart. Thighs clench tighter around his head as Keith lets out a barrage of sounds that slowly tear Lance apart from the inside out. He’s loud, he’s so loud, and Lance loves it.
“Lance,” Keith gasps. “If you keep doing that I’m gonna--”
Lance finally comes up for air. He wipes his chin with the back of his hand. “Good?” he asks, tilting his head.
Keith drags him up for a kiss.
His lips are almost numb from constant use since this thing started, but he doesn’t care. He doesn’t care, because when Keith’s leg hooks around his hip, it just doesn’t matter.
“Come on,” Keith gasps. “You said you were gonna wreck my ass?” He cocks his head, devilishly inviting. “Do it.”
Keith’s voice is quiet but earthshaking, the consonants sharp on his lips while the vowels tumble softly out of his mouth, straight from his dirty tongue which Lance oh-so hopes to claim.
Lance rummages under the bed for a second, before his hands grasp onto a familiar bottle. He pulls it out, and drops it onto the mattress while going back to pull Keith’s thighs apart.
But when he goes back to grab the bottle, it isn’t there, lying innocently on the sheets where he left it.
Instead, it’s dangling from Keith’s hand.
Keith pops open the cap, pouring a little onto his fingers before dropping them between his legs.
“What-- what are you doing?” Lance asks, his hands still clenching on Keith’s thighs.
Keith’s smile is something so wicked, so hungry, that Lance almost can’t think. “Revenge,” Keith whispers. He slips a finger into himself and moans, exaggerated for Lance’s benefit.
“Holy fuck,” Lance gasps. “Keith--”
He works himself open at almost an alarming pace, barely pausing before stretching himself further, faster, until he’s practically writhing on the bed.
Lance can’t stop looking. Because Keith, spread out like this-- he looks beautiful.
His long hair falls like spilled ink across the pillow, contrasting gorgeously with his porcelain skin. A thin sheen of sweat coats him already, and his lungs rise and fall to the beat of Lance’s heart-- fast, wild, and unsteady.
“Enough,” Lance gasps, surprised at his own daring as he pulls Keith’s fingers out of him. Keith wipes them on the sheets with shaking hands, clearly close to losing it.
Lance rolls a condom on himself as fast as he can, going back to touch Keith immediately afterwards. He runs his hands over the hard planes of Keith’s stomach, his pelvis, drifting downwards towards--
“Lance,” Keith gasps. “Don’t stop--”
“Tell me what you want,” Lance whispers into his ear, hands bracketing his head. “Tell me what you want and you can have it.”
“Fuck,” Keith swears. “I-- I want you, come on, fuck me--”
So, he does.
He sinks into Keith slowly, carefully, one hand on Keith’s hip and the other behind his head. When he bottoms out, he rests his head in the nook between Keith’s jaw and shoulder. “Mphh,” he mumbles. “God, Keith.”
“More,” Keith whines. “C’mon, Lance, move.”
He rolls his hips. Keith curses and shivers. “Lance--”
“Keith,” he whispers, pulling his hips back slowly. “God, fuck--”
He slams his hips forward. Keith lets out a sound, a long, drawn out moan that Lance will surely hear in his dreams.
“Dios,” Lance gasps, rocking his hips forward again. “Keith, Keith, oh,” he lets his head fall backwards, never slowing or stopping in his rhythm.
“More,” Keith groans. “Lance, I know you can--”
He does.
Keith cries out, arching his neck and digging his head into the pillow. “Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck,” he gasps, his body moving with the motion of Lance’s hips. “Fuck!”
The bed starts hitting the wall. Lance feels a little surge of pride at that-- he’s fucking Keith so hard the bed is hitting the wall.
But his attention is focused on the way Keith looks, the way he feels.
Not much makes sense in his brain right now, and Keith is the one thing that does. He looks so blissed out, so fucked out, that it’s making Lance go loopy. He just sounds so good. The little noises he’s making are completely indistinguishable, a garbled mess of vowels and consonants miles away from any comprehensible word.
And now, he knows Keith’s spots. He knows what he likes. He knows Keith.
So he grabs the back of Keith’s thighs with his hands, pushing them up to switch the angle, and holy fuck.
Keith-- Keith fucking breaks.
He cries out, grabbing Lance’s hips as Lance coaxes him through it, his own pleasure climaxing as Keith comes off his.
Lance falls into the high like jumping from a cliff into clear, blue water-- no hesitation, no fear, all exhilaration and euphoria. The bubbles swirl around him, everything is quiet and suspended in time--
And then he comes back.
Lance manages to pull out of Keith with a wince before he completely collapses.
“God,” he groans into the mattress. “Keith, babe, you’re gonna fucking kill me.”
“Fuuuuuck,” Keith groans, clearly in a similar state. “When I said ‘wreck my ass’ I didn’t mean fucking destroy it.” He rolls over, his face smooshed into an adorable pout. Sweat shines on his pale skin. “I’m not going to be able to ride my bike tomorrow.”
“I don’t see how that’s a problem. You look a lot better riding me.”
“Shiro’s gonna ask why I’m not on my bike!”
Lance rolls his eyes and presses a quick little kiss to Keith’s shoulder. “You want me to take it back?”
Keith’s expression switches to adorably grumpy to even more adorably afraid. “Please don’t.”
Lance grins, biting his bottom lip with his front teeth and stretching his arms. “You’re a mess,” he says to Keith, “and I think you’re going to have to change your sheets.”
Keith makes another face. “Gahh,” he mumbles.
“Hey, at least you have your own apartment,” Lance laughs.
Keith tilts his head. “Right, you still live with your family. How come?”
Lance shrugs. He wriggles around into a more comfortable position on the sheets, before realizing they’re both pretty much a mess. “I have half a dozen siblings, and my parents can’t afford to pay for college housing for all of us.”
He starts to stand, throwing Keith a wet washcloth and cleaning himself up while he’s at it. “I’m getting a dorm after the first semester. Three more months.”
He turns back around. There, with the sheets hardly rendering him decent, lies Keith in all post-coital glory.
“Lance?” Keith asks. “...You good?”
“You’re hot,” Lance blurts out. He grinds the heels of his hands into his eyes. “Fuck, damnit--”
“Thanks,” Keith snarks. “You too, asshole.”
Lance looks up and beams. “Really?”
“Yes, really. I almost did crash when you were wearing those fishnets.”
“HAH!” Lance exclaims, pointing a vindictive finger. “You did like them!”
“I thought that was pretty apparent,” Keith drawls. He chucks the washcloth past lance and into the bathroom; it falls into the shower with a wet splat. Lance walks forward slowly, only slightly aware of the fact he’s still completely naked. He falls onto the bed, wriggling underneath the sheets. “I’m gonna stay here,” he mumbles, soaking up the heat from Keith’s chest. “You’re warm and I don’t wanna do my homework.”
“God,” Keith groans. “Homework. I forgot about homework.”
Lance blows a raspberry into Keith’s shoulder. “Bully for you, asshole.”
He ends up staying at Keith’s apartment practically the whole day. They watch Brooklyn Nine-Nine while Keith points out all the inaccuracies.
“Nothing this interesting ever happens to us,” he grumbles. “Though, there was that one guy who put a bomb in the microwave…”
“A what in the what now?”
Keith waves a hand. “People will do a lot of crazy shit to get back at us for putting them in jail. It’s a thing.”
Lance’s eyes are the size of quarters. “I’m just… not going to ask?”
Keith purses his lips to hide a smile, but Lance sees it anyway.
He was having a good day.
It’s a simple enough statement-- he was having a good day. He just had mind blowing sex two hours ago, it's a Saturday, and he’s got a hot piece of ass’s number in his phone.
He was having a good day.
Until she arrived.
“You know,” someone says behind him. “Acxa was telling me the funniest story the other day.”
Lance freezes. “Acxa?” he stutters. “Who’s, uh, who’s that?”
“Do not play dumb with me, Leandro,” Veronica hisses, her hexagonal glasses perched on the bridge of her nose. “Acxa said her partner somehow knew all the intricate details of how we got together, and I know two things.” Veronica pins him against the wall, and Lance is officially Scared.
“Number one-- you were the only one there who knew when and how Acxa and I started flirting. Number two-- there is a hickey on your neck so I know you’re seeing someone.”
Lance gulps. His sister's dark eyes drive very firmly into his blue ones.
“So,” Veronica says, with fake niceties, “Go tell your-- screw you for fucking a cop and not telling me about it, by the way-- tell him to stop blackmailing my girlfriend or I swear to god I’ll kick your ass so hard you can’t fuck him for weeks.”
“That’s,” Lance wheezes, “very detailed.”
Veronica tilts her head, and adjusts her glasses. “It is.” She starts to walk away, and coincidentally, Lance starts to be able to fucking breathe again.
“Oh, and Lance?” Veronica says, when she’s halfway across the room. “Said girlfriend of mine packs a piece and beat Keith in the accuracy contest last July.” She winks, salutes, and walks backwards out of the room.
Lance almost sinks to the floor. “Oh my fuck,” he whispers. He whips his phone out of his pocket and opens his text thread with Keith.
acxa beat u in the july accuracy contest? babe i thought u were better than this
The response is immediate. HOW DO YOU KNOW THAT?!?!
veronica, Lance shoots back. she threatened me and told me to stop u from blackmailing acxa or ‘she’ll kick my ass so hard i can’t fuck u for weeks’.
Oh, it’s on, Keith sends back. I’ll protect you AND kick her ass. I’ll kick her dog’s ass. I’ll kick my OWN ass before I let acxa win this.
Lance starts to giggle. He wiggles into a more comfortable position on the couch. it’s cute when u get competitive, babe.
I'M NOT COMPETITIVE I JUST VALUE WINNING.
Lance smiles, and shakes his head. that’s competitive, babe, he types out. and i’m pretty sure acxa is too. i’m excited to see who wins ;)
It’s gonna be me. It’s gonna be me, it's gONNA BE ME.
sure, jan, Lance responds.
Keith’s response arrives with a pleasant little bloop. What are you referencing?
it’s a meme, Lance says. u know?
Nope, Keith sends back. I don’t.
There’s a minute and a half of silence. Then Keith’s response drops into his inbox with a fury. WAIT YEAH I REMEMBER, ISN’T THAT MARSHA WITH THE ‘OW MY NOSE’???
Lance laughs so hard he almost cries.
“So,” Pidge says, flopping into a seat across from him, “you two are really fucking?”
“Jesus shitting Christ,” Lance swears, almost throwing his papers in surprise. “Pidge!”
“It’s not my fault you scare easily.”
Someone shushes them from two tables over. Pidge frowns in confusion and gives them the finger.
Lance resists the urge to smack his head on the table. “Pidge, this is a library.”
“She doesn’t have to be a bitch about it,” Pidge mutters. “Anyway,” she claps her hands down on the table. “Tell me everything embarrassing you know about Keith.”
“Did Veronica send you?”
Pidge tilts her head in confusion. “...No?”
“I’m still not telling you anything,” Lance insists. “I will not betray him like that.”
“Please?” Pidge asks.
Lance shuffles through his history papers. “Why do you even need to know, anyway?”
Pidge purses her lips and blows an awkward raspberry. “I like keeping blackmail on everybody I meet?”
Lance picks up a pen and points it at her. “You have a problem.”
“I do not. You have a problem.”
Lance tries to focus on his textbook. “And what is that?”
“Keith is a goth bitch.”
“I’ll tell him you said that.”
Pidge pales, and her eyes open wide. “...Please don’t do that.”
“Are you scared of Keith Kogane?”
“Ok, first of all,” Pidge starts off, “I’m literally the only person shorter than him. That’s a fact. And, he has a knife.”
Lance stops. “I thought it was a gun?”
“Both.”
Lance leans his head back, and has to blink to stop his brain from spinning. “That’s… hot.”
Pidge smacks him across the forehead. “Stop that.”
“What!”
“Thirsting, you dumbass! This is a library!”
“You brought it up!”
“You’re the one who started thirsting in the middle of a library.”
Lance shuffles his papers into a little stack, tucking his pencil behind his ear. “You already said that.”
“Lance!”
Lance laughs so loudly that a library aide kicks both of them out.