Archive of Our Own

Lance is a certified, hometown-acclaimed, UNO master. 

Even as the baby of the family, he did not escape the wrath of his older siblings when it came to claiming victory over said card game. 

For some inexplicable reason, he’s never lost. Maybe it’s because he’s a sucker for detail and never forgets to shout ‘Uno!’ Maybe it’s the universe looking down at him and smiling, his hand being impeccable every time.

Surely, it had nothing to do with him sneaking glances over Rachel’s shoulder, or the knowledge that Marco uses all the plus fours and wild cards at the beginning of the game, rendering him stuck picking up cards by the end of it. 

Veronica and Luis were always a bit harder to crack, but that hadn’t stopped his winning streak. (It was no one’s business if he’d forfeited one game for the sake of Nadia’s blinding grin.)

Whether by sheer luck or talent—Lance chooses to believe it’s talent—he reigns supreme at the fortune-based game.

Which is why he’s ecstatic when Pidge and Hunk say they’ve recreated a crude version of it, and immediately makes a bet with Keith that there’s no feasible way he can lose. 

So what if he likes making Keith cry? Sue him, his mate loves it just as much. That’s probably why Keith had agreed without so much as a second thought, eager to fulfill either end of the promise.

The terms are simple: whoever wins more rounds between the two of them gets to tie the other up and ride them into oblivion. Keith had even added his own clause, whoever ended up being restrained had to use their new toy at the same time.

The toy in question was something they’d picked up the last time they had to stop for supplies. Hunk had been insistent on finding new ingredients he could use to add some semblance of flavor to their food-goo. Shiro and Pidge were on the hunt for new med-bay cots, seeing as the single one they’d had in their possession had been ruined. Somehow. 

Naturally, Keith and Lance had been on the lookout for a plug. Something about Keith needing to keep his cum inside of Lance, or vice versa. Which was not a problem to Lance, in fact, the idea of filling Keith to the brim, plugging him up, and making him stay like that sort of ate Lance alive. 

After spending half a day looking, they had found the perfect one. It was purple, tapered enough to mercilessly hit either of their prostates, and most importantly, vibrated. 

The flared base had endless—voice-activated—settings to control the vibrations, even the thickness and length of the toy were customizable. Keith’s eyes had damn near bugged out of his head when the shopkeeper had detailed its functions, not wasting any time to slap their payment on the counter and pocket their purchase. 

They hadn’t had the opportunity to use it yet, and heat twisted in Lance’s stomach when he thought about Keith falling apart underneath him, pleasure melting his mate from all angles. 

He can practically see it in his head, Keith soaked in sweat and writhing desperately, nowhere to escape from the tight suction of Lance around his dick or the persistent thrumming inside of him. Lance has no intention of losing a single game. 

He can’t keep the shit-eating grin off his face while Pidge is passing cards out, earning a raised eyebrow from them and a knowing, exasperated eye roll from Hunk. 

“You suckers are going down,” Lance crows, examining his hand and finding three wild cards, two plus fours, one red card, and one blue. 

He can’t help the affection that blooms inside him at the red and blue cards being right next to each other, but he tables it to focus on strategy. (Not that there's much strategy to apply in UNO.) 

He’s sure Pidge will place their best cards first, mild disinterest acting as their main motivator. He knows Hunk is only playing for the sake of it, he only has to worry about Keith and Shiro, Lance figures they’ll definitely be more calculated with their moves. 

Allura and Coran had declined the invitation to play, apparently they had a similar game on Altea, Allura's eyes sparkling in mischief and Coran's face falling flat in a long-suffering expression when it had been brought up. 

All four of them are sitting in a circle, knees bumping and elbows brushing far too much for a game that requires hiding your hand from the people around you. Allura and Coran sit on a couch nearby, separate but still chiming in with sporadic comments. Hunk and Shiro are on each side Lance, Pidge and Keith directly across from him. 

Pidge had said something about PDA not belonging in communal activities, which had made Lance squawk in protest and Keith snicker behind his palm. 

Lance doesn't let the fact that Keith isn't readily available to slam with plus fours bother him, electing to hold firm in the belief that Shiro will stack on top of his and serve his brother a slice of pickup-pie.

His theory is proven correct when Shiro does just that, Lance cackling in delight while Keith grumbles and adds eight new cards to his hand. 

He watches as Keith leans in and whispers something he can't quite catch into Pidge's ear. Whatever it was makes Pidge's eyes dance with mirth, gaze fixing on Lance briefly with a smirk before they turn and mutter something to Keith that makes him frown. 

"Pidge, c'mon," Keith groans audibly, much to their amusement. 

"Cheating is against the rules, mullet-man," Pidge singsongs, pointing a thumb in Keith's direction and fixing Lance with a pointed look. "Your boyfriend—"

"Mate," Keith cuts in with his nose wrinkled.

Pidge rolls their eyes fondly before amending, "Your mate over here just asked me to team up on you. Not very good sportsmanship, huh?" 

Lance clutches his heart like he's been wounded, shooting his mate the most betrayed look he can muster before Shiro admonishes Keith without any heat, tone entirely too humorous to be taken seriously, which effectively dissolves his hurt expression into one of triumph. Hunk chimes in with his own, "Maybe against someone normal it isn't, but you guys haven't seen Lance in the UNO zone. He's ruthless, man."

"Why'd you even make it if you knew that?" Keith says into his hands, looking like he’s already accepted defeat. Lance isn’t so easily fooled, Keith’s competitive streak runs as deep as his own.

Hunk shrugs noncommittally. “Dunno. Maybe I wanted to see you lose for once.” He's not wrong, Pidge and Keith usually end up claiming the victory crown on their game nights. 

Lance pumps his fist in the air and blows Keith a smacking kiss, choosing his words very deliberately as he croons, “Don’t cry too much, sugar, it’s rigged.” 

Keith's response comes in the form of a light blush staining his cheeks and a middle finger, likely imagining the ways he’ll end up in tears after they're finished. "Are we flirting or playing a card game?" Shiro asks dryly, both eyebrows raised. 

Allura and Coran titter from the couch, Hunk and Pidge joining in with obnoxious giggles, and Keith's flush darkens, sputtering at Shiro before snapping his mouth shut.

Lance throws Keith a wink, then gestures to Pidge. "It's their turn, anyways. Chop chop, I'm ready to make all of you eat my dust."

Pidge narrows their eyes at him playfully, playing a yellow two before elbowing Hunk conspiratorially. "Get a load of this guy, dude. Hit him with everything you’ve got." 

"Hey!" protests Lance. "I thought cheating wasn't allowed." 

Pidge puts a hand to their chest, blinking innocently at Lance. "How else are we supposed to defend ourselves against the great and mighty UNO master?" Keith bumps them with his shoulder, and they lean into each other to snicker at the exaggerated offense painting Lance's face. 

"Sorry, bud," Hunk says, not sounding sorry at all as he slaps a plus four on top of the stack. 

"Jokes on you, I have one of those too." 

"Jokes on Keith, actually," Shiro smirks, adding another plus four to the pile. Keith grumbles good-naturedly, hiding his smile behind his cards after all twelve misshapen pieces of paper-adjacent material are in his hands. 

"What happened to ganging up on Lance?" Keith mumbles to no one in particular, raising an unimpressed (definitely amused) brow when Lance sticks his tongue out at him.  

"Well, I guess your mate came prepared," Pidge muses. The rest of the game goes much like that, everyone exchanging light taunts, casually tactile as they lean into or poke each other. Lance wins two rounds, to no one's surprise, and Pidge wins one, throwing his initial judgement of them being disinterested out of the proverbial window. 

Lance's sides hurt from laughing, and he doubts anyone else is faring much better. Pidge keeps rubbing their temples with a smile, Hunk's ears and neck are red from yelling excitedly, Keith and Shiro are thigh-to-thigh, swaying into each other as they exchange hushed snickers. Coran had even ended up rolling off the couch when the rotation was reversed, and Hunk had told Pidge that if they danced on one foot while yodeling, he wouldn't skip them. 

Allura had left sometime in the middle of their third game, insisting that they were going to watch a movie, and no one was allowed to refuse. She returns with a handful of small chips that Pidge wordlessly takes and calibrates to their holo-screen. Allura chatters happily about the new series they're starting, saying Hunk and Lance will love it since they enjoyed what Lance has affectionately dubbed 'the Altean version of Real Steal.'

Coran sits at the far end of the couch, Allura tucking her legs beneath her and her feet under his legs as everyone but Shiro clambers to the other side of the couch, eager to call dibs on who gets to sit next to Keith. "Lance, scoot over," Pidge hisses. 

"He's literally my mate. For life. How is that even fair?" Lance whines, not planning to budge from his spot next to Keith. Or more accurately, his spot half on top of Keith, their legs tangled together, and an arm snaked around Lance's waist. He's strategically positioned himself at the end of the couch, with nowhere to actually scoot over to. 

"You have a personal heater constantly attached to your hip, and you don't wanna share. How is that fair?" Pidge grouses, arms crossed. 

"They're not wrong," Hunk points out. "You sleep with the dude every night."

"I don't see you guys dicking him down on a regular basis," Lance mutters to himself, Keith flicking his side in retaliation. 

"Enough," Shiro sighs, pinching the top of his nose with two fingers like they're all giving him a headache. Pidge huffs dramatically, claiming the spot next to Keith for themself, leaning with their back against Hunk when he settles into the couch, their legs drifting to Keith's lap and lying on top of Lance's. Shiro tucks himself against Hunk's side, who stretches both of his arms behind the couch. 

"I fail to see how this is still an argument." Allura's already sleepy voice drifts towards them, mouth opening wide in a yawn when she finishes her statement. She tips her head onto Coran's shoulder, eyes half lidded. She always falls asleep first, usually followed shortly by Pidge.

"Really, you ought to have a rotation by now," Coran agrees. 

"Does anyone actually wanna ask me what I think?" Keith grumbles, and Lance knows he's only pretending to be put out. It shows in the way he absentmindedly massages Pidge's calf, how he leans into the hand Hunk brushes against his neck, the fingers that trace patterns into Lance's side. 

"Nope," Lance, Pidge, and Hunk say in unison. Keith's lips curve into a soft smile, the beginnings of a quiet purr rumbling through his chest. 

"You love us, just admit it," Hunk says, squeezing Keith's neck. 

"You guys just like me because I'm warm and furry," Keith remarks like the trilling sound emanating from him doesn't speak for itself. Shiro remains quiet, but when Lance cranes his neck to peek at him, there's a lazy, contented grin on his face. 

"Do any of you plan to watch this, or shall I ask Pidge to disconnect their screen?" Allura interjects before anyone can refute Keith. She pauses, then teases, "You are emitting the typical noise of a pleased Galra." 

Shiro snorts, and Pidge dissolves into laughter, clutching their stomach, earning a pinch to their leg from Keith. Hunk hums thoughtfully, directing his attention to the far side of the couch. "It is pretty relaxing, though. Is it supposed to be?"

Allura nods in assent, Coran pointing a finger in the air as he says, "Traditionally, it is meant to soothe, encourage, and communicate care for loved ones. In addition, it may indicate great emotional or physical pleasure. It has even been known to occur in more...intimate situations." 

Keith's ears flatten to his head in embarrassment, ducking his face into Lance's neck to hide the flush spread across his cheeks. Hunk stands up from his seat, ignoring Pidge's indignant protests in favor of ruffling their hair before he claps his hands together to get everyone's attention. "On that note, does anyone want to try the frozen goo recipe I've been working on?" 

Keith mumbles a grateful 'yes, please' from his spot against Lance's throat, sending a shiver through him as lips brush his neck. That's really all it takes for Lance's mind to replay some of the referenced 'intimate situations,' and Keith must smell it, lifting his head with a mischievous twinkle in his eyes, embarrassment completely forgotten. Lance shoves Keith's head away from him, groaning, "Shut up."

"I didn't say anything," Keith says lightly. 

"Didn't have to." 

Pidge turns around and flops against Keith, taking up the spot Hunk left empty, pressing their feet against Shiro’s thigh. “Are you two gonna watch this or eye-fuck each other all night?” Pidge drawls, waving their hand dismissively at the matching sputters that come from Keith and Lance. 

“I was wondering the same thing myself,” Shiro says, sinking deeper into the couch, nudging his leg closer to Pidge. 

“Oh, whatever,” Lance smirks. “You guys are just jealous you don’t have a sexy half-alien life partner.” 

Pidge wrinkles their nose at ‘sexy half-alien life partner,’ and Allura lifts her head to say, “I do not think ‘jealous’ is the applicable word in this scenario.” 

“Jealous,” Lance singsongs, drawing the word out longer than necessary. Before anyone can groan, Hunk arrives in the form of a much-needed distraction, returning with bowls stacked along his arms and in his hands. Pidge and Lance whoop in celebration, each of them pumping both of their fists in the air. 

Quiet murmurs of gratitude fill the room as he passes them out, spoons scraping metal as they fall momentarily silent in their gusto. Pidge moves out of the way for Hunk to reclaim his spot, holding his bowl for him so he can sit down, and promptly assumes their previous position of leaning against his side when he settles.

"Hunk, this is great. Even better than the last batch," Shiro compliments after finishing his first bite. Hunk beams in pride, detailing how the fruit and sweeteners he'd picked up were much easier to work with this time around. 

Lance doesn't bother swallowing the dessert in his mouth before he slurs, "Yeah, 's really good, man." Keith's face pinches in exasperation when some of it splatters against his chest, removing his hand from Pidge's legs to swipe it off and smear it on Lance's cheek. "Keith," Lance whines.

"Lance," Keith replies, imitating Lance's affronted tone. He turns to Hunk, nodding in agreement. "He's right, though, it is really good." The tips of Hunk's ears darken as the rest of them chime in with their own appreciation, and the proud grin doesn't leave his face until Pidge tries to steal some of the goo out of his bowl. 

Lance tucks himself deeper in the cradle of Keith's arms, surveying the people around him. The desert they’re eating is as sweet and filling as the affection that wells in his chest. Homesickness may be a hot knife that never quite seems to dislodge from his heart, but moments like this numb the pain into something tolerable. 

It's no McClain family reunion, but the same kind of love is there, and Lance thinks he'll make it out okay as long as he has the people around him. Keith is oozing the same contented scent that is undoubtedly coming from himself, and something loosens in Lance’s chest. Yeah, he'll be alright. 

...

As soon as everyone departs for bed—Allura and Pidge having to be woken up—Keith threads Lance’s fingers with his own and tugs him eagerly down the corridor, Lance buzzing with anticipation the whole way.

He’s so fucking giddy his palms are sweating, his cheeks hurt from the wide grin that splits them, and his entire body is humming with something electric and all-consuming.

He has no idea how he and Keith made it back to their room without dry-humping in the hallway—Allura had insisted they take one of the large, abandoned couples’ suites after the bite, which they’re both pretty sure only serves to save everyone else from having to hear them fuck. 

Before the metal door can even slide shut behind them, Keith is on him, his large hands gluing themselves to Lance's hips, crashing their lips together as he herds them to the bed in the far corner of the room.

Lance is endlessly grateful for Keith's physiological inclinations, he's somehow able to press bruising, insistent kisses against Lance's mouth and sightlessly guide them to their destination without either of them getting hurt. 

The thought makes Lance laugh between their lips, and it gets swallowed by Keith licking into his mouth, his warm tongue sliding over Lance's before it traces along his teeth. When the back of his knees hit the bed, Keith gives him a playful shove, separating their mouths as Lance pretends to swoon and faint onto the mattress behind him.

It's corny, ridiculous even, definitely far from his best move, but it reaches its intended audience.

Even if Lance couldn't smell the sweet, smoky mix of amusement and adoration rolling off of Keith in waves, his face gives it away. His teeth are digging into his bottom lip, barely preventing his mouth from stretching into a fond smile. And his eyes. Keith's eyes look like melted sugar, not at all in physical appearance, but entirely in the way they soften and warm at Lance's antics.

"You're such a dork, dude." Keith manages to make it sound like a declaration of love, his voice breathy and laden with affection, his eyes crinkling as his grin broadens into something disgustingly affectionate. It makes Lance ache. 

"Fuck, I love when you talk dirty to me," Lance breathes, exaggerating the whine in his voice. Keith rolls his eyes, neglecting to provide Lance with a verbal response. 

Which is totally cool in Lance's book, because instead of saying anything, Keith crawls on top of him, bracketing his arms and legs around Lance's. He promptly changes his mind about that when Keith's tail inches under his shirt to stroke against his stomach. 

"Stop, that tickles. C'mon," Lance huffs around an involuntary laugh, jerking away from the touch. 

"Then take off your shirt." Keith arches a single, thick brow at him. Every time he does that, it squeezes at Lance's heart a little, the idea that his mannerisms have rubbed off on Keith is something close to tactile in sensation.

"Don't really think I can ride you with pants on, but if that's your thing, more power to you," Lance replies lightly, lifting his own eyebrow, and fixing Keith with a look that he hopes says you're an idiot, and I love you so much. He's pretty sure it lands, definitely sure when Keith's expression is taken over by something fond and exasperated at the same time.

He slides his hands to Keith's hips, digging his thumbs beneath the waistband of his mate's pants, and Keith sucks in a sharp breath. "Lance," Keith groans, insistent, irritated, and almost a little whiny all at once. "Take your clothes off, wanna feel your skin."

"Make me, then," Lance says, wiggling his eyebrows and smirking. Or, he would've, if Keith hadn't pressed their lips back together the instant the words had left Lance's mouth. He doesn't think he'll ever get enough of kissing Keith, his mouth is always so warm and inviting, his lips and tongue possessing the ability to be harsh and demanding as much as they can be coaxing and gentle. 

Tonight, despite Lance deliberately pushing his mate's buttons—when isn't he—their kisses start off soft, sweet in the way Keith slowly brushes his tongue against Lance's, making him ready to melt right then and there.

The scent of wood-smoke and something honeyed, almost spicy, engulfs Lance, crawling into his nose and sliding into the back of his throat like he can taste it. He doesn't think he'll ever get enough of that, either. 

Each slick press of their mouths drips heat into Lance's abdomen, his cock stirring in interest. He's so fucking easy for Keith, it's not even close to funny. He's supposed to be the one turning Keith into a whimpering mess, but Lance feels like he's being swept under water and dragged through unforgiving rapids from just a few delicate kisses. 

Keith scrapes a fang against Lance's bottom lip, making him shudder, his dick throbbing with the mental images of what those sharp teeth are able to do to him. It's not fair, a dirty trick Keith is all too aware will make him weak in the knees, so Lance figures two can play at that game.

He wraps a hand around the back of Keith's neck, squeezing gently before scratching through his mate's hair and grabbing a handful of those dark, silky strands, close to his scalp. He pulls, barely enough to hurt, but it still makes Keith's jaw go slack and his ears swivel as he inhales sharply, releasing a startled, involuntary moan when he exhales.

Lance fully intends to gain the upper hand, nipping Keith's lip and tugging before he soothes it with a broad swipe of his tongue. "Baby," Keith pants, and Lance can't tell if it's a request or a reprimand. Probably both. 

Lance's lips curl into a satisfied smirk, bringing his other hand up to rub one of Keith's fluffy, purple ears between his fingers, earning himself a shudder and the beginnings of that trilling purr he loves so much. Keith pushes all pretenses of loving, gentle kisses aside in favor of damn near eating Lance alive.

That’s what it feels like, at least—all teeth and tongue crashing against his own and stealing the breath right out of his lungs.

The scent of Keith’s arousal is almost overwhelming, thick and heady, smoky sweetness coating Lance's throat and settling low in his stomach. He could stay like this forever, Keith’s body heat surrounding him, his lips on Lance’s, in their own little world of desperation. 

But his dick is too hard to ignore, the wet slide of Keith’s lips and the sting of his fangs unravel Lance’s restraint. He pushes against Keith’s chest, their lips disconnecting with an audible sound, and tries to ignore the pang in his heart at the look of disappointment he receives. 

Lance places a hand on his jaw, rubbing Keith's cheekbone with a thumb and trying to catch his breath. Keith leans into it, turning his face to press an open-mouthed kiss to Lance's palm. 

The display of affection almost turns Lance on more than the hard line of Keith’s cock dragging against his thigh. Almost. He has a reward to cash in, after all.

Lance licks his lips and tilts his head to the side, eyes flicking across Keith’s face. It’s flushed, dark purple staining his cheeks. Keith is breathing just as hard as he is, and his lips are puffy from Lance's insistent nips. He doesn’t think he’s ever seen anything so beautiful. 

“You look so good like this,” Lance says softly. “I love when you blush all pretty for me.”

Keith ducks his head, briefly hiding his pleased grin before he meets Lance’s eyes and it widens. “Wish you could see yourself, baby, you’re so pretty.” Keith thumbs at his lip, and Lance thinks he’d be fine dying like this. 

“As sweet as all this is,” Lance says, gesturing between them, “Really, tooth-rotting stuff. I’m still gonna rock your world, buddy.”

Keith huffs a laugh, pulling away from Lance to roll over onto his back, turning his face to meet Lance’s eyes. “What are you waiting for, then?” 

Lance narrows his eyes, pushing himself up on his elbows to poke Keith in the chest. “Keep talking, but we both know you’ll be crying before I’m done with you,” he says haughtily.

Keith flashes his teeth at Lance, fangs digging into his bottom lip, and lids lowering into an expression that is downright filthy. Keith grabs the hand Lance has on his chest and threads their fingers together so he can kiss tan knuckles. “You promise?” 

Lance can't do anything other than nod. He thought he had it bad before they got together, but confident and brazen Keith makes him dizzy and breathless like nothing else. He can feel the heat that rushes to his face, and Lance kind of wants to pinch Keith when he grins all lazy and slow, gratification curling around his scent. 

Instead, he stands up to rifle through their bedside drawer, tossing supplies on the mattress. First lube, then the plug, and lastly, a soft coil of flexible rope. Keith won’t feel so high and mighty when he realizes he doesn’t get to prep Lance, will be made to sit there and watch as Lance pumps his own fingers in and out of himself. 

“C’mon, take your clothes off, and scoot back. Gonna tie you up now,” Lance declares with a wicked smile. Keith furrows his eyebrows, but listens, ripping off the offending fabric and pressing his back to the headboard. And, oh. Keith's dick is already dripping, it's a painful looking dark purple, and the tendrils around the head of his cock are fluttering.

"I don't really know how I'm supposed to finger you without my hands," Keith says, confusion lacing his tone. His expression drops when Lance shakes his head and laughs, realization dawning on Keith's face. "Lance—“

"Oh, no, sweetheart," Lance interrupts. "I'll handle that myself, thank you very much. You can just sit back and enjoy the show." Keith's hands flex, and he whines in the back of his throat. 

"Lance, that's not fair, let me do it," Keith pleads, making his eyes big and imploring. Lance will do no such thing. He shuffles back onto the bed, sits on Keith's lap, and presses his mate's wrists to the top of the bedframe. 

"I remember—and correct me if I'm wrong—wiping the floor with you. I won, my terms," Lance hums. "Besides, we still need to get that plug in you first." He sticks his tongue out at Keith, using the rope to secure his hands together and against the headboard. Keith grumbles at him the whole time, complaining about mean mates, and my fingers feel better anyway. "How does that feel, too tight?" Lance asks, disregarding Keith's objections. 

Keith tugs at the restraints, clenches his hands open and closed, and licks his lips when they barely give. "'s good, baby. You did a good job," he says, voice dropping into a soft rumble. Lance nods in appreciation, pecks a quick kiss onto his cheek, and shifts back so he can kneel between Keith's legs. 

"Alright, Kogane, put your knees up and spread 'em," Lance demands around a snicker, patting one of Keith's knees for emphasis.

"You have such a way with words," Keith snorts. 

"All the better to seduce you with." Lance bats his eyelashes at Keith, popping the cap of the lube, and squeezing some on his fingers. An amused grin tugs at Keith's lips, making the eye roll he throws Lance fairly ineffective.

“Don’t really know how you’re supposed to seduce me when you already have me,” Keith remarks dryly before doing as Lance asks and putting his entrance on display. He does it casually, like the sight alone isn’t enough to make Lance’s mouth dry and his head empty.

It looks so pretty, the purple furl of muscle twitching in anticipation, Keith’s balls sitting heavy above it, leading up to the mouthwatering length of his leaking cock. Lance groans like he’s been punched and clears his throat to say, “Like that, Keith.” He coughs, sucking in a deep breath that should be steadying but doesn’t come close. “That’s how you seduce someone you already have.”

Keith grins, all soft and pleased, and spreads his thighs open further, tilting his hips to give Lance better access to the pucker of his rim. “Then what are you waiting for, Mr. ‘I never lose at UNO?’ Come get your reward,” Keith coos.  

Currently, Lance couldn’t care less about being teased and really doesn’t need to be told twice, lying flat on his stomach between Keith’s legs. He rubs his fingers together to warm the lube—because he’s a thoughtful and caring mate, thank you very much—and presses the tips of two of them to Keith’s hole, gently petting back and forth.

Lance knows he should probably be clinical with this, it’s a means to an end, there’s a clear goal he’s supposed to reach, but he can never seem to help himself when it comes to Keith. Truthfully, he doesn’t think he should be blamed. It’s not his fault Keith is made of dense muscle, soft fur, and sweet temptation. 

Deciding that he’s free from accountability, Lance takes his time stretching Keith open. He accepts one finger like a dream, and two pulls pleased, gasping noises from Keith’s throat, his sleek tail wrapping around Lance’s arm, the fluffy tip of it tickling the inside of his wrist. 

Keith is hot and slick around his fingers, sucking them in like he doesn’t wanna let go, wet squelching sounds reverberating around the room and hanging in the air between them as Lance scissors his fingers inside of Keith. 

Lance can feel his cock pulsing where it's trapped between the mattress and his body, achingly hard and nearly impossible to ignore. It becomes wholly impossible when he brushes that soft, spongy spot inside of Keith, and his hole clenches down around Lance.

A deep groan punches out of Keith's chest, making him tug on the rope and try to work his hips back onto Lance's hand.

"There you go, just like that. Let me in, honey, you're doing such a good job," Lance encourages, rolling his hips against the bed to relieve some of the pressure on his dick. He wraps his free hand around the back of Keith's thigh, spreading his legs wider, rubbing harsh, persistent strokes against his prostate.

Keith jerks, the muscles in his arms and legs tensing like he's about to spring away from the stimulation. He doesn't, and can't, really, the realization sitting heavy in Lance's stomach, spreading heat through his limbs. 

"Lance," Keith whines, irritation bleeding into his voice, "Hurry up, I can take three." As if to prove his point, Keith rocks down against Lance's fingers, heavy breaths interrupted by a rumbling keening sound when  that bundle of nerves is targeted again.

Lube and desperation make for a loud combination, the noises Keith, his hole, and Lance's own fingers make mix together in a cacophony that is entirely as overwhelming as it is familiar. It makes Lance's head rush with blood, his ears pounding and sight tunneling to the way Keith's rim stretches around his fingers.

"Baby," Keith tries again, having put together that Lance isn't really listening. He clenches around Lance's fingers pointedly before continuing around a whimper, "I know math isn't exactly your strong suit, but you can count to three, right?" 

Lance squawks when the words hit him, using the hand he has on Keith's thighs to pinch it lightly, dipping in to press a placating kiss against the fur  there.

"Math isn't exactly your strong suit," Lance mocks, separating his fingers and petting Keith's prostate when they come back together. He nudges a third finger against Keith's entrance, not pushing in, but applying enough pressure for his mate to realize what he's doing. "One, two, three," Lance singsongs, wriggling each digit for emphasis. "Seems like pretty solid math to me."

Keith grunts, trying to push himself back onto Lance's fingers again, and getting stopped by the rope holding him in place for all of his trouble. "Lance," he growls, which strikes the same amount of fear in Lance's heart that a newborn kitten would. "You're gonna make me come, and I'm not even inside of you yet." 

He must come to the conclusion that he probably shouldn't have said that out loud, groaning exasperatedly at the way Lance's face splits into a wide, toothy, and all too dangerous grin. And, really, who is Lance to deny his mate when he asks for something so sweetly?

Keith's cock drips where it sits above his stomach, a small pool of fluid residing right under the tip as it twitches under Lance's gaze. It fucking jumps when Lance presses the third finger in abruptly, a shocked gasp slipping between Keith's lips.

Lance chases the sound like it's ambrosia and he's dying of starvation, starting a sloppy, merciless rhythm inside of Keith. His walls flutter and clench around Lance's fingers, the hot, tight suction working overtime to drive him further up the wall. The sweetest gasping moans tumble from Keith, crawling over Lance's skin and sinking into him like they belong there.

And they do, if anyone were to ask.

Keith's hole spams around Lance's fingers every time he brushes that spot inside of him, and he can see the way Keith's stomach grows taut, abs flexing and releasing as he can't seem to decide if he wants to chase his orgasm or evade it.

"Baby," Keith pants, rolling down against and then away from Lance's hand. "Baby, please, 'm so close, wanna come inside you," he slurs. 

Lance chuckles, slowing his rhythm into a lazy grind, much to Keith's dismay, according to the frustrated whine he releases before huffing petulantly. Keith opens his mouth, undoubtedly to complain, but Lance cuts him off with a harsh rub to his prostate, cooing when Keith's hips jerk and his lips fall open into a wheezing moan.

"I don't really see why you can't have both, hm? Don't you wanna fall apart all over my fingers and then fill me up? That's all it takes for you, right, honey?" Lance simpers.

Keith shudders at his words, his ears and tail flicking wildly with no apparent destination, and he pulls his bottom lip between his teeth. Lance feels like he's burning up inside, he's definitely sweating, his mind feeling hazy as he presses his throbbing cock against the mattress underneath him for relief. 

The only thoughts allowed inside surround Keith, the way he bucks his hips while chasing his release, the way his eyes scrunch up in concentration, the low, keening noises pushing their way out of his throat, and his scent deepening into something rich with each passing tick. 

It's too much and never enough. Lance will never get his fill of Keith.

He's tried, it's definitely impossible. He'll never be satisfied, will always crave his hands on purple fur, his lips against Keith's, his tongue caressing a deadly, pointed fang. His heart tugs thinking about how well their bodies fit together, the way Keith kisses his temple when he wakes up in the morning, how he looks at Lance, like he's something precious, as if he's a treasure Keith covets and can't bear to have leave his sight. 

Strangely enough, it's not the first time an emotional lump has formed in his throat while fingering Keith. 

Once again, he doesn't find the will to blame himself. Why would he? Anyone should be so lucky to call Keith their mate. Lance is just the luckiest. Pride wells in his chest at how good he's making Keith feel, just a few fingers inside of him, and he's so close to shattering. Lance can see patches of sweat beading along Keith's body, fur glistening in the low light of the room every time he thrashes around. 

He watches the way Keith's toes clench, digging into the plush surface beneath them, and Lance knows he's close. He curls his fingers, pressing sharp, insistent nudges against that spongy bundle of nerves inside of Keith, and leans over to pants hot breaths against his weeping cock.

The tendrils around his tip open and close like they're beckoning Lance closer, begging for an open-mouthed kiss. He couldn't possibly deny such a request, closing his lips around the head of Keith's dick, groaning at the sweet taste that explodes across his tongue. 

Keith chokes on a wail, and that's the only warning Lance gets before hot ropes of cum fill his mouth, too much to swallow around. It leaks out of the seam of his lips, and he gurgles in satisfaction when Keith clenches around his fingers, his hole tightening into a vice grip as he twitches and comes undone.

Keith sucks heaving breaths into his lungs when Lance pulls his mouth off of his cock, a line of drool and cum connecting his lips to Keith's length, and he dips in to clean it off with broad swipes of his tongue. 

"Lance," Keith whines, his chest rising and falling rapidly as he twitches in sensitivity. "So good to me, baby, you're such a dream." 

Lance's face flushes at the praise, slipping his fingers free and rubbing the remnants of lube against Keith's opening. It flutters, so soft and pliant from Keith's orgasm that Lance is sure he could slip his dick right in without any resistance. He physically shakes his head to rid himself of the thought, now isn't the time, it's his turn to get stuffed full and fucked stupid. 

"You better buckle up then, you're about to catch some REM sleep," Lance says like his voice isn't straining under the pressure of pure and unadulterated lust. Keith wrinkles his nose, eyebrows drawing upwards. 

"I don't think that even makes sense," Keith laughs, shooting Lance a fond look. 

"Whatever," Lance grouses. "It totally does, you're just dick-drunk." Keith rolls his eyes, but the deeply endeared expression doesn't leave his face, and it curls inside of Lance and stays there. 

"Don't really know how I'm supposed to be dick-drunk without any dick, but sure."

Lance grumbles to himself, ignoring Keith, and busies his hands by grabbing the plug and spreading an excessive amount of lube on it. So what if he'd rather be safe than sorry? (Likes it loud and messy.) 

"I'll show you dick-drunk," Lance mutters darkly, using a hand to pull one of Keith's cheeks apart to put his puffy rim back on display.

Lance rubs the cool tip against his hole, making Keith hiss and reflexively tug against the rope holding him in place. He slowly works it in, savoring each stuttered gasp and hitched breath that comes from Keith's lips. 

The widest part slips inside, and they both inhale sharply. Keith, undoubtedly at the feeling, and Lance at the sight of his mate's hole stretched around the silicone-like material.

The deep purple of the toy looks so pretty pressed against Keith's rim, the lighter shade of his skin complementing the plug. Lance pushes it the rest of the way in, patting the base of it with sticky fingers when it's fully seated inside of Keith.

Keith is still panting, and Lance can see the way he clenches around the toy, growing accustomed to the intrusion. Keith's face is flushed, his lips slightly swollen from where his teeth have been worrying at them, pupils blown wide, and Lance kind of wants to eat him alive. 

Instead, he elects to wipe his hand on Keith's thighs—earning an annoyed grunt of his name—and crawl up toned muscle until their lips meet. Irritation at Lance for smearing lube on his thigh aside, Keith sighs into his mouth, tilting his head to slide his tongue against Lance's. 

He feels like melted ice cream, warm and syrupy, the only thing missing from the equation being Keith's fingers on his jaw. Heat spikes through him at the knowledge that Keith can't touch him, and when he cracks open an eye, Lance can see his mate's wrists straining against the rope. 

"Oh, you wanna touch me so bad," Lance crows, pressing sweet kisses to Keith's face, betraying his teasing tone. Keith is unfazed by the self-satisfaction dripping from Lance's voice, simply nodding and leaning his face forward to catch Lane's lips again. 

"Yeah, 's kinda the whole point. You know I do," Keith says in between their kisses. Keith bites his lip, tugging harshly, making Lance hiss and grind down on his lap. 

He gets lost for a tick in the slick presses of their lips, the small, satisfied sounds Keith pushes into his mouth, which Lance meets with his own. It's easy, familiar, and it never ceases to surprise Lance just how quickly every thought fades from his head when Keith kisses him. He needs it like he needs air, feels like he might starve without the weight of Keith's lips against his. 

When Lance begrudgingly pulls back, Keith whines, darting forward to try to reconnect their lips. Lance smirks, pressing his hand to Keith's mouth and pushing his head back. "C'mon," Lance says, wiggling his eyebrows. "Let's see how quickly I can make you cry."

"I'll believe it when I see it," Keith huffs like Lance hasn't mastered the art of dissolving him into hiccuping sobs. Lance scoffs, swinging his leg around Keith's hip to turn around. "Might help if you had less clothes on," Keith drawls. 

"You're just bitter you can't get your hands on me," Lance says teasingly. "I should tie you up more often, my closet would definitely thank me." He peeks over his shoulder to look at the fresh blush staining Keith's cheeks, who offers no resistance, knowing Lance is right. Still, Keith isn’t wrong, he can't exactly stick his fingers through his pants.

Lance makes quick work of shucking them off, throwing each item of clothing haphazardly until he's left bare and aching. It was an incredibly unsexy affair given his haste, but Keith's dick clearly disagrees, almost completely filled out when Lance pivots to clamber back on top of his lap.

He settles himself above Keith, knees bracketing fur-covered thighs, and makes a clumsy grab for the lube. 

Lance squirts what he deems an appropriate amount on his fingers, bracing himself with his other hand so he can reach back and pet over his entrance. He can feel the way Keith tenses against him, the corded muscle of his thighs becoming taught lines.

Lance circles around his rim, teasing Keith as much as he's teasing himself. He wants to throw caution to the wind, stretch himself just enough to sink onto Keith's cock, and go to town, but he doesn't. 

Those salty tracks of tears he's after only come with the utmost patience, which Lance finds he can muster plenty of when it comes to his mate. The circles he's pressing against his entrance are interrupted by the tip of a finger slipping inside and back out every few passes. The burn in his arms that Lance knows will come the longer he sits there will be worth it, especially when Keith starts making whimpering, pleading sounds in the back of his throat. 

"Lance, please," Keith begs, voice low and rumbling. "Just untie me for this, let me do it. I promise I'll let you tie me back up when I'm done, please." A shiver wracks through Lance's body, heating pooling low in his abdomen at the desperation in Keith's tone. Thinking he's getting somewhere, Keith continues, soft and intentionally alluring, "I know you love the way my fingers feel inside of you."

He even starts purring, which Keith knows he's weak for, the vibrations it sends through his skin causing Lance to shudder again. "Nice try, buddy," he says with much less composure than he intends to. "Maybe you should just get good, and then you'd be able to finger me, fair and square."

But he prides himself on being the perfect mate, and is nothing if not gracious, so he slips a finger inside of himself. It doesn't feel like much, just a dull sensation of pressure, yet it punches a wounded noise from Keith's chest.

Lance wiggles his finger around, clenching down on it to get used to the intrusion. The angle is a little awkward, but he can make it work. Especially when it has Keith groaning and breathing heavily, the sound of rope on wood scraping against Lance's ears. 

"Two, do two, Lance. Please, I gotta—I need to see it, baby, please—“ Keith rambles, and Lance can't pretend that he's not affected by the breathlessness of his voice.

He obliges, pressing a second finger next to the first one, Keith's trilling purr growing louder as soon as he does. "Thank you, thank you, thank you. So pretty, Lance, you're so pretty like this. Pretty all the time," Keith chokes out. 

Lance deliberately avoids his prostate, certain he will come if he touches it too much, Keith's words already making his cock painfully hard. As impersonally as he can, Lance scissors his fingers, the edges of feeling full creeping up on him. Keith's tail wraps around his thigh tightly, copping a feel and helping Lance maintain his balance at the same time. 

Lance finds that he's grateful he decides to neglect that spot inside of himself, the feeling of Keith's fur against his skin making his legs feel like jelly, and his heart getting all mushy at his mate's consideration. "Think I'm gonna do four, really make myself ready for that monster you call a dick," Lance hums, more casual than he actually feels. 

Keith whines, hips thrusting up unconsciously before settling back down like he's been reprimanded. "Baby, baby," Keith slurs, entirely too worked up for what the situation realistically calls for. Lance just tends to have that effect on him, much to his delight. "Please, gimme another, just one more—fuck, Lance—wish you could see yourself."

Lance huffs like he's being inconvenienced before sliding another finger inside and groaning at the stretch it induces. He works them in and out in a rhythm that's far too slow for his taste, but works wonders in destroying Keith's resolve. 

He's close to nonsensical, pleading Lance for more, for him to sit on his cock, telling him he's the most beautiful thing Keith has ever seen. The words blur together, the next one trying to come before his lips have finished forming the previous syllable.

Lance soothes him with sweet coos of his own, reassuring Keith of what's to come if he's patient and sits still like a good mate would. Sight, sound, and feeling blend together into one mind-numbing sensation, and before he knows it, Lance is ready for a fourth finger. 

Keith makes a sound like he's dying when Lance's pinky slips in to meet the rest of his fingers, something insistent and loud, impossible to ignore. It slides over Lance's skin, leaving burning desperation in its wake. He's impatient now, needs to feel Keith inside of him, wants his cock so deep that Lance can taste it. 

Lance slips his fingers free after a few more perfunctory drags inside of himself, grabbing the base of Keith's cock and fully intending to slide home. "No, no, wait—please," Keith begs, something sharp and anxious in his tone that makes Lance pause. He cranes his neck over his shoulder, frowning at Keith's pinched expression and the unshed tears pooling against his lash line. 

"What's wrong?" Lance isn't able to keep the panic out of his voice. What if the restraints were too tight, maybe the rope was cutting into Keith's skin. His scent hasn't changed, sweetened wood-smoke cloying in the air, but what if Keith stuck it out for—

"Wanna see your face, baby," Keith says like it's his last request, something he can't go without having. Panic makes way for endearment, and Lance's heart doesn't beat any slower, but it relaxes into something warm. "Please, Lance. I need it," Keith insists, voice thick.

Lance feels close to crying himself, relief and bone-deep affection coursing through his body. 

"Yeah, yeah, of course, sweetheart," Lance says in a rush, twisting around to face him, placing his knees around Keith's muscular sides. "Are your hands okay?" Keith blinks at him like he doesn't understand what he's being asked.

"My hands are fine, my dick is not." Keith cants his hips upward, brushing against Lance with his cock and a whine. It leaves a sticky trail, pre-cum and lube smearing against the cleft of Lance's cheeks. "I'm fine, I promise," Keith adds in a softer voice. 

"In that case," Lance says, letting arousal thicken his tone. He lifts himself away from the hard length of Keith's dick and leans closer so he can nibble on Keith's earlobe, blowing a breath against the spit-slick skin when he pulls away. "Be patient, or I might have to leave you like this and make you watch me fuck myself," he jerks his thumb towards their bedside table, "on the dildo in there." His words are empty, and he's fairly sure Keith knows that, but they're still met with a fervent nod. 

"Yes, please, yeah--you're right, 'm sorry, please," Keith mumbles placatingly, his wrists straining like he wants to touch Lance again.

He definitely does, but keeping Keith desperate, completely at his mercy, and only being allowed to sit and take what's given to him makes Lance hungry for more.

He coos at Keith, pressing a tender kiss to his cheek before pulling away and adjusting himself, looking down to see that his own cock is leaking just as steadily as his mate's. 

Lance grips the base of Keith's dick, lowering himself enough to kiss his rim with the head of it, smearing pre-cum back and forth. He can see Keith trying to keep himself under control, his hips twitching and tensing like he's forcibly making himself still, face screwed up in concentration as he sucks his lower lip into his mouth.

"Please," Keith croaks, "Lance, baby, please put it--" 

He cuts Keith off by seating himself on his mate's lap in one fell swoop, the filthy, slick noise and sudden pressure making Lance groan. He feels so full, and even after four fingers, there's still a pleasant burn that accompanies Keith's dick while it stretches him open. But nothing could prepare him for the way Keith looks, even if it's a sight Lance has seen countless times. 

His body is a taut line, muscular frame tensed like he's about to spring into action, patches of his fur sticking sideways or laying flat, damp from sweat and other bodily fluids. Keith's claws are unsheathed, his palms clenched together, and his ears are flat to his head. Lance almost doesn't want to look at Keith's face, knows that as soon as he sees the fucked out expression on it, his resolve is likely to crumble.

He'll end up untying Keith's hands and demanding to be plowed into the mattress. 

Lance was right to hesitate, because he chokes on a moan when his eyes finally land on Keith's face. A sweet blush paints the high points of Keith's cheeks, his bangs stuck to his forehead in sporadic spikes, sweat beading his temples and jaw. His eyes are squeezed shut, brows pinched upward, and his lip is right back in between his teeth.

Lance thinks his mate is nothing short of ethereal, something so beautiful it'd be a crime not to frame and display it. If he were any less possessive or selfish, Lance is sure he wouldn't have a problem learning how to paint just so he could capture a modicum of the beauty in front of him. 

But he is, and that feeling sticks to his insides with no apparent intention of leaving. Keith is his mate, his to break apart piece by piece, and his to put back together when everything is said and done with. He doubts there's a chance that he'd ever be inclined to share, harmless paintings or otherwise. 

"Lance," Keith hisses, clenching his teeth, "Don't move." Lance cocks an eyebrow, rolling his hips forward slightly.

"Or what? You'll stop me?" Lance throws his head back and laughs, which cracks into a breathy moan when his ass meets Keith's hips again, that bundle of nerves being dragged against on his way down. 

"Or I'll come," Keith gasps, flexing his hands apart, searching for tan skin his palms won't find. Something twists inside of Lance, his lips curling into a smirk at Keith's admission. 

"Oh, yeah? You gonna come inside me? Gonna make it leak out if I do this?" He punctuates his question with dirty rolls of his hips, lifting away from Keith's cock higher and higher with each one. Keith's hands jerk against the rope, wood creaking beneath it, and he makes an aborted half-thrust into Lance, a loud, splintered moan leaking from his lips, and kick-starting a purr deep in his chest. 

"Baby," Keith slurs, thrashing his head back and forth. "Hnng—slow down, slow down. Please, c'mon, Lance, please—don't wanna come yet."

"That's too bad," Lance coos, cupping Keith’s jaw and thumbing at his lips. "Maybe if you coulda beat me, you wouldn't have to worry about that. Don't you wanna be a good toy for me? Let me use you so I feel good?"

Keith's hips twitch, and his eyes glaze over as he nods his head furiously, eager to go along with whatever Lance says. Lance leans into his ear, squeezes around Keith's cock while rocking down onto it harshly, and delivers the finishing blow. "Good job, sugar. Always so good to me, the perfect mate." 

All at once, Keith comes undone. His teeth grind without skin to drag against, filling Lance with warmth as his hips jerk in short thrusts. He makes the sweetest sound, a drawn-out, choked whine, and Lance shivers, clenching methodically around Keith's cock to pull more of those honeyed noises from his throat. "There you go, just like that," Lance murmurs encouragingly. 

"Lance, 'm so full," Keith whimpers when he comes down, throbbing inside of Lance, still hard. His voice breaks into a dry sob when Lance doesn't rolling his hips, overstimulation likely sending a shock-wave through his body. "Feels so good, too good—can't even fuckin' think." 

It burns right through Lance, eating him alive, his rhythm growing in intensity. "Yeah? I thought you wanted to make sure I was full too, but you're wasting so much already," Lance tuts, shaking his head like he's disappointed, and not inches away from his own release. Keith really doesn't even seem to care about, much less notice, the bite in his words. 

"Yeah, yeah—fuck—yes, Lance, anything." Keith sucks in a sharp breath, eyes wide and insistent, tears shining, but not yet spilling over. "Anything for you."

The lump in Lance's throat makes a reappearance, his eyes starting to sting as his heart throbs in his chest, his pace slowing to a halt. He never really understood what people meant when they said love makes you do crazy things. One glance at Keith had changed his mind. If he asked, Lance would run around the castle clad in only a clown nose, smile on his face and everything. 

"I love you so much, Keith," Lance whispers, cupping Keith's face and stroking his cheeks. "More than anything."

Keith ducks his face, pressing a kiss to Lance's wrist. "I love you more." 

Lance scoffs and squeezes Keith's cheeks, indignation coloring his voice when he says, "That's not even true, and we are not starting this while you're literally inside of me."

"No time like the present, right?"

Lance wishes he could say he's surprised that Keith can still argue with him through a mucus-lined throat, but he's really not. It's clear they aren't going to get anywhere with words, so Lance decides to take matters into his own hands.

He moves his palms to Keith's stomach for balance, spreading his knees and rocking back to plant his feet on the bed before lifting up until his rim barely sucks the head of Keith's cock.

Lance slams back down, the squelch of cum dripping out of his hole slicks his way and rips matching groans from them both. He hardly gives Keith a tick of reprieve, starting a brutal, slapping rhythm that has his mate slurring around his words.

Keith pants underneath him, mumbling thick praises and words of encouragement which blur together into long strings that are wholly nonsensical, but entirely pleasing as they wash over Lance.

Keith is so close to crying, he can taste it. It's obvious in his scent too, desperation sharpening the smoky notes of it. He just needs a little push over the edge, and Lance is nothing if not helpful. 

"Activate setting number two, size three—"

"Baby, wait—" 

Keith bites himself off with a high pitched, drawn out whine, his form wracking in a full-body shiver. Lance swears he can feel the vibrations pulsing inside of him too, and he's definitely not imagining the way they shred through Keith. If he'd thought Keith was losing his composure before, he'd have been sorely mistaken. 

Keith threads together half-formed noises with pitiful, cracked sounds, his body twisting away from and towards the stimulation like he can't decide which is worse, and his tears finally fall.

Lance feels like he's being swept along for the ride, his rhythm stuttering under the jerky movements beneath him, losing his balance and tumbling forward into Keith's chest. 

It's a surprisingly good angle, allowing him to steady Keith's hips somewhat with his own weight, stabilizing himself into some semblance of a steady pace.

"Lance, Lance, feels so—hnng, fuck, fuck—so fuckin' full. You're so tight, baby—hah—'m gonna lose it," Keith babbles, tail and head thrashing.

Lance isn't faring much better himself, the direct pressure on that bundle of nerves every time Keith's cock slides back inside blending with the knowledge that he's making Keith feel this good, is so heady that Lance feels fuzzy, off-kilter. 

He sucks a dusky purple nipple into his mouth, rolling it cruelly between his teeth, making Keith's moan splinter around a sob. He's exhaling the prettiest blubbering sounds, inhaling deep, shaky breaths, pressing his chest insistently against Lance's face. 

Lance brings one hand to Keith's other nipple, pinching and tugging mercilessly, and uses his other to grab onto a muscular shoulder. He uses Keith's shoulder as leverage, guiding his hips in wet, filthy half circles that drive both of them insane. Stimulation eating at every sensitive part of his body, Keith grows almost silent, fat tears rolling down his cheeks as his mouth opens and closes in cut-off gasps. 

Lance feels heat build up in his pelvis and lick up his spine, each roll of his hips drags against his prostate in mind-numbing jolts of pleasure.

But what makes that fire build more than anything is Keith. His strong, sweet, massive idiot of a mate totally surrendered to Lance in every way, taking everything he's given and offering nothing but gratitude and adoration in return. 

Lance's dick throbs each time his ass meets Keith's pelvis, painfully, insistently hard, and his mate's pretty noises and pinched expression only serve to make him that much harder. He feels like he can't breathe, every lungful tastes like honey and smoke, coating Lance's tongue and the back of his throat in Keith, Keith, Keith. 

Every hitched breath from Keith, and the absolute vision that his mate makes with tear-streaked cheeks winds the coil inside of him tighter and tighter with every passing tick.

Everything is too much, but Lance still craves more. "Activ—oh, fuck—Activate setting three," Lance chokes, nearly shrieking when the plug vibrates so hard inside of Keith that he's definitely sure he can feel it. 

Keith shakes beneath him, hips undulating mindlessly, causing Lance's rhythm to falter in favor of savoring the sloppy pace his mate sets. Or, momentarily sloppy, because he should know better than to assume that if Keith was given the opportunity to fuck him, he wouldn't put his entire being into it. 

Quicker than he can reasonably process, Keith plants his feet on the bed, raising his knees and supporting Lance's body weight in an obnoxiously sexy display of strength as he ruts into him with abandon.

It's deafening, the wet slaps of their skin meeting pull Lance headfirst underwater. There's nothing like this, Keith a sobbing, mindless mess, eager to please his mate regardless of what it takes. 

"Keith, Keith, so good," Lance says through a thick voice. "Fuck—honey, you’re perfect, 's so good."

"For you," Keith hisses, his already frantic rhythm somehow growing in intensity. Everything about it is obscene, but when Lance closes his eyes, it's worse, the noises of their skin slapping together becoming unbearable, not being able to see Keith's face screwed up and stained with tears unthinkable. 

Lance's dick is pulsing uncomfortably, and his head spins as he inches closer to his climax, the ache inside of him outweighing the burn in his thighs that became apparent the moment he stopped holding his own weight. Keith must see the way his body tenses and lashes flutter, always acutely aware of when Lance is about to come, his movements becoming that much more desperate, unyielding in his determination.

The headboard creaks in an alarming sound, Keith actually putting some of his strength behind pulling at the rope, but it's the least of Lance's concerns when all he currently seems capable of doing is sitting there limply as he's pounded into, eyes burning as his body succumbs to the onslaught inside of him. 

"Keith, 'm so close—hah—you're so big," Lance slurs into Keith's chest, abdomen clenching and releasing as he chases his orgasm. 

"Please, baby, want you to—oh, fuck, fuck, fuck—" Keith chokes on a whine as Lance tenses around him, walls fluttering as his climax begins to crash through him. The tightly wound coil snaps in an instant, hurdling Lance into waves of white-hot pleasure. Keith's rhythm barely stutters, eager to please, each nudge against his prostrate sending shocks through Lance's body. 

Keith fucks him through it, hard and relentless, only slowing when Lance's breaths do, and his stomach is covered in cum. Lance gradually comes down, shivering at the gentle sensitivity of his hole milking Keith's cock. "So good for me, Keith, the best toy. You did such a good job, 'm so proud," Lance coos, panting heavily. "You wanna taste, sugar?" 

Keith's hips kick upwards unconsciously, answering Lance's question with unwavering clarity. He still nods his head frantically, ears swiveling forward in interest. Lance leans back enough to swipe two fingers through the mess he made on fur underneath him, cum pooling in the crease between the digits before he brings them to Keith's mouth.

It's warm, inviting, and Lance shivers at the feeling of Keith's rough tongue sucking him clean. Keith groans, and his eyes flutter at the taste, his hips giving another unbidden jolt when Lance's cum hits his taste buds. "More," Keith whines. Lance's cock gives a valiant twitch as he scoops up more cum and feeds it between Keith's lips. 

"There you go, all you wanted, huh?" Lance murmurs. "You gonna give me what I want now?" Lance squeezes around Keith pointedly, spreading his fingers to stroke the back of Keith's tongue.

He slides his other hand through Keith's hair, grabbing a handful at the base of his scalp and tugging before he grinds down into his lap. Lance goes in for the kill, "You gonna fill me up, sweetheart?" 

Keith fucking wails, gurgling around Lance's fingers as he jackhammers his hips upwards, sloppy but entirely devoted to giving his mate what he's asking for. Lance falls forward again, pressing his face into the base of his mate's neck and basking in the pleasure of Keith falling apart around him, small sighs leaving his mouth every time his prostate is prodded. 

One, two, three, four more thrusts, and Keith spills inside of him, sobbing wetly and shaking underneath Lance.

Every warm pulse of cum shoots gentle aftershocks through Lance, feeling impossibly fuller and more sated with each one. Lance mouths at Keith's neck, slowly rolling his hips to work Keith through his climax. 

Keith shudders through it, loud cries winding down into gasping sniffles as he slowly relaxes. Lance slips his fingers out of Keith’s mouth, and he winces, sucking his teeth, presumably at the vibrations still pulsing through him. “Activate sleep mode,” Keith says around a grimace, tears drying on his cheeks.

Keith sighs in relief when the buzzing stops, but the overstimulation doesn't seem to stop him from breathing, "I think we should play UNO every movement.”

It startles a laugh out of Lance, pressing himself up to beam at Keith. “You don’t need an excuse for me to tie you up, y’know.” 

“I know,” Keith says more tenderly than the conversation realistically calls for. His pretty yellow eyes peek out at Lance through the grin that takes up his entire face, tail curling around his thigh possessively.

Lance’s heart swells, and his dick gives another valiant twitch at Keith’s affection-soaked tone. 

“I love you,” Lance whispers, pressing a soft kiss to Keith’s Adam’s apple. 

“I love you. Untie me, wanna hold you.”

Lance obliges, carefully undoing the handcuff knot Keith’s wrists are in. He rubs circles into the skin, checking Keith’s circulation, tutting at the imprints the rope left behind. "Just grab the lotion, baby, it's okay," Keith says when he notices what Lance is fixated on. 

"I was going to, hold on." Lance pokes his tongue out in concentration as he massages Keith's wrists, patting them lightly when he's done. He digs through their bedside drawer, holding the lotion in the air with a triumphant crow when he finds it.

Keith's eyes crinkle into an easy smile at Lance's dramatics, shaking his head and chuckling to himself. 

"You're such a dork, dude," Keith says.

"Your dork," Lance sighs dreamily, batting his eyelashes for effect. He rubs the lotion into Keith's wrists and hands, slowly massaging it in until his fingers don't glide across skin and fur anymore. Lance wrinkles his nose, pondering Galran skincare, if it's even a thing. "Do you think I should've used conditioner?"

"What?" Keith blanches. 

"Y'know, since fur is like. Hair. Maybe a leave-in would be good for your fur?" Lance asks, completely serious. 

Keith rolls his eyes fondly, lacing their fingers together and brushing a kiss against Lance's knuckles. "Knock yourself out, baby. Whatever floats your space-castle."

"C'mon, space-castle? And I'm the dork?" Lance fixes him with an amused look, one thin eyebrow raised. 

"Yup," Keith says, popping the 'p.'

"Whatever," Lance snickers. "Shower?" Keith looks down at their cum-stained bodies and their sweat-soaked bed.

"Definitely. New sheets, too."

Lance nods in agreement, pressing his hand back to Keith's lips for another kiss, which he receives with little fanfare.

Keith even takes it a step further, trailing kisses down his wrist that soon become open-mouthed and a little dirty, maintaining eye contact that takes no time at all to turn from fond to heated. 

"Shower," Lance admonishes, not taking his arm away from Keith. He leaves a lingering kiss against the inside of Lance's elbow, far too sweet for his heart not to clench. It must show on his face, Keith's eyes softening in what Lance can safely assume is a mirror of his own lovesick expression.

Comfortable silence stretches between them, and neither of them makes any move to get up, Lance entirely content to lie on top of Keith, and his mate all too happy to have his chest used as a cushion.

Lance gets a little lost in it, the easy stillness, the steady eye-contact that says more than words can. The quiet knowledge that Keith loves him as much as he does sits on Lance's tongue, heavy, reassuring. It makes him want to blurt out another 'I love you,' but he doesn't, aware that there isn't a need to. 

Keith's eyes soften and melt like sugar he smells and tastes like, enough for Lance to know the sentiment was received and reciprocated.

Lance doesn't know how long they sit there like that, can't bother himself with caring, not when this quiet moment feels like forever. Lance wishes it could be, that he was able to freeze time, that neither of them would ever have to move from this perfect spot. 

The ache in Lance's heart is close to physical, something bone-deep and swollen, and he's unsure how a single body or soul is capable of holding so much love and reverence for one person. Lance can feel himself start to blush, warmth spreading through his ears and cheeks, tiny butterflies dancing in his stomach.

By now, Lance has realized they've taken up permanent residence inside of him, and had done so a long time ago. 

Loving Keith comes as easily as breathing, an action he barely has to give any thought to as it swells inside of him and oozes out around him. The way it never stops growing feels impossible, every exchange, shared tear, and brush of their skin feeding the feeling in his chest until it bubbles over and consumes his waking mind. 

Keith could disappear in this moment, and Lance would spend the rest of his life searching for even a glimpse of him, sustaining himself on the bottomless well of his own devotion.  

Lance clears his throat, licks his lips, and opens his mouth to say something, but can't seem to find the right words for how he feels. "I know, me too," Keith whispers. "Me too." It fissures inside of Lance's chest, and he surges forward to connect their lips. Keith meets him halfway, bringing a hand up to cradle his jaw like Lance has been craving since the rope had been brought out.

Lance sighs into Keith's mouth, honey dancing across his tongue when their lips part. He shifts forward for more leverage and is abruptly reminded of the drying cum on both of their stomachs when he brushes against Keith's fur, matted and semi-solid in clumps.

Lance disconnects their mouth to groan, "Moment ruined, shower now, please."

Keith chuckles, diving in for a quick peck before he acquiesces, patting Lance's thigh to signal him to move. They stumble towards the shower, taking sweet laughter and even sweeter kisses with them for the short journey.

While Lance fusses over serums and moisturizers for when they get out, Keith adjusts the water temperature and retrieves pajamas, a familiar routine that they sink into as easily as anything. 

Under the fall of water isn't any different, their limbs pressed together while Lance scrubs Keith's stomach clean, and gets circles rubbed into his sides in return. Keith has him turn around so he can wash Lance's hair, tilting his face up towards the water that sprays from the ceiling and closing his eyes.

It serves the dual purpose of keeping soap out of his eyes and allowing him to melt into the feeling of Keith's fingers on his scalp. "Did you like it? The rope and everything, I mean." Lance asks softly.

"I don't know, did I come three times?" Keith huffs a gentle laugh. "Of course I did, I like everything that involves you."

"Not everything, you didn't like that collar."

"No, you're right. I didn't like that at all," Keith murmurs, carding his fingers through Lance's hair to chase away any remaining shampoo. "I guess there's an exception to everything." Keith pauses for a beat, then asks, "Did you like it?" 

Lance nods insistently, "So much."

"Lance, hold still. I'm trying to put conditioner in your hair," Keith says exasperatedly, a chuckle bubbling underneath his voice. A kiss is dropped on his shoulder when Keith is done. The rest of their shower passes with little words, only light prompts and affectionate touches having enough room to sit between them. 

Towel-dried bodies with damp hair (and fur) settle into a freshly made bed, forms tangling together into a mess of limbs.

Lance drifts off to the gentle rumbles of a purr, tracing the lines of Keith's throat and collarbones with lethargic fingers, and bites away a smile, reminding himself to thank Hunk and Pidge for their craftsmanship. 

Keith scratches his scalp, and everything else fades away into darkness as his eyes slip closed, disgustingly content and lungs full of Keith's satisfaction. Yeah, this whole 'partners for life' thing is pretty cool.