Archive of Our Own

Combat Baby
(No one here wants to fight me like you do)

The first time it happened, they’d been sparring. Surprisingly, Hunk didn’t excel at this activity, more from an absence of enthusiasm than a lack of skill. Keith figured Hunk’s reluctance to hit people stemmed from always being the biggest guy in the room. It probably made you super self-conscious, not wanting to be seen as aggressive, as loud, as dangerous. Hunk didn’t seem uncomfortable in his own skin, not really, but he was too careful. He made sure to give everyone their own space. He didn’t block exits. He didn’t raise his voice. He treated his teammates like they were made of eggshells that would break in his hands. Shit like that drove Keith insane.

So, when Hunk broke a hold with surprising gentleness, freeing himself without leaving so much as a mark on Keith, Keith decided he’d had enough. He rolled to his feet and grabbed Hunk’s arm, digging his fingers into the muscle to emphasize his words. Unlike Hunk, he didn’t care if he left bruises on his teammates. Not if it taught them a lesson that would keep them alive.  

“You need to fight back. Otherwise you won’t learn how to actually hurt someone when you need to – you have to be able to protect yourself.”

Hunk glanced down at Keith’s hand on his arm, but didn’t do anything about it. “Do I?”

Keith couldn’t tell if he was being teased or insulted or both, and he didn’t know how to react to that anyway. He grit his teeth and went for clarity instead. “Yes, you do. Do you think we’re doing this for fun?”

Hunk shrugged, dark eyes sparkling as though thinking of a private joke. His voice was deadpan. “I don’t know what you do for fun, Keith.”

Keith let go of him and took a step back, out of range of a possible strike, however unlikely that would be. “You need to know how to fight. Hunk.” He added, because if they were using names for emphasis, then he was certainly playing.

“I do know how to fight,” Hunk answered immediately. He seemed bored with this entire conversation. He was probably doing advanced astrophysics calculations in his head, allotting only the tiniest amount of attention to Keith. It was infuriating.

“Do you?”

“Yeah. I took three physical combat courses at the Garrison. And my parents made me take judo for like, eight years. Family tradition. All my uncles worked as bouncers to pay their college tuition. Some of my aunts, too.” Thinking of his family seemed to sadden Hunk. Keith could recognize grief when he saw it, and spoke up quickly to distract him.

“Three combat courses is the bare minimum to graduate. The judo’s good though. So, why aren’t you fighting now?”

Hunk shrugged again. “We’re on the same side. Why would I hurt you?”

Keith took a deep breath, and held it for a second. “Sparring is for practice, to build reaction time and muscle memory for a real fight.”

Hunk raised his eyebrows, and leaned in a little, as if to say, Is that so? Keith knew he was being mocked, and struggled onward.

“I don’t expect you to actually hurt me-” he began.

“Oh, thank god,” said Hunk, and started to leave.

Keith ran to block the exit. “But I do expect you to fight me.”

Hunk sighed. “I train in the simulator all the time.” He gestured at the punching bags set up in the far corner of the gym. “I box every day. We battle Galra soldiers and bots at least once a week. There’s no need to risk-” he paused, and tried again. “There’s no need for me to actually punch you.” His longsuffering tone suggested that, given enough encouragement, he’d probably find a reason to punch Keith, if that was what Keith really wanted. Keith set about persuading him.

It took twenty more minutes, two moral justifications, and an unending amount of goading, delivered both physically and verbally, for Hunk to actually hit him. Keith estimated he’d been punched with about thirty percent of Hunk’s actual strength. It hurt, and Keith knew it showed on his face, despite his best efforts. Hunk looked horrified, then resigned.

“You did ask for it,” he said, instead of apologizing.

Keith started to like him better.

Which wasn’t to say that he didn’t like Hunk already. He enjoyed Hunk’s solid presence in his life, the way Hunk’s warm friendliness managed to smooth over the rough edges of so many negotiations gone wrong. He liked walking into hostile territory knowing that Hunk had his back and wouldn’t let him down, whether or not Hunk actually wanted to be there. Keith only wished that Hunk didn’t act like sparring with him was an absolute torture.

He stepped back to realign his approach, then launched himself up at Hunk. He tackled Hunk’s shoulders, letting the sheer momentum of the attack carry them both to the ground. Keith was happy about that. He didn’t know if he’d be able to handle the humiliation if he’d jumped on Hunk to knock him down and Hunk had just… caught him, or something. It was bad enough that now he was sitting on Hunk’s chest, straddling him, and Hunk’s expression was flickering between mild concern for Keith’s sanity, and amusement.

And then it happened.

He was sitting on top of Hunk, holding him down, legs spread around him. He was enjoying the feel of Hunk’s broad chest under him, and then suddenly, enjoying it a bit too much.

Oh fuck.

Keith jumped away from Hunk like a scalded cat and heaved himself to his feet. Without pausing to help Hunk up, he ran for the door.

“I’m late for a tactics meeting with the Marmora,” he lied, yelling over his shoulder. “We’ll do this again next week.”

He reached the door, his sharp hearing picking up a laugh from Hunk’s direction, and then softly, “Will we?”

Keith flushed scarlet and ran.

*

The next time it happened was three weeks later, and Keith had spent those three weeks strongly suspecting that Hunk was laughing at him behind his back. It didn’t help that he and Hunk had never been as close as Hunk was with the other paladins. Hunk and Pidge together never shut up, chattering on and on about equations and physics and science, completely focused on each other and their mathematics, wrapped in a bubble of advanced calculus that excluded everyone else. Hunk and Allura’s conversations focused on culture and diplomacy, and the role of cuisine in various alien civilizations. Hunk treated her with a respectful diffidence when Keith was around, but he was sure he’d heard them giggling one evening, sampling an assortment of liqueurs from the Tri-Delta Quadrant. And Hunk and Lance had apparently been surfing buddies on every semester break from the Garrison because that was all they talked about now.

When it was just Keith and Hunk though, Hunk kept his distance. He was still thoughtful, and kind, and considerate, and just as protective of Keith as he was of the others. He rescued supply treaty discussions from Keith’s bumbling hands. He insisted on extra flight checks on the ships Keith flew on Blades missions. He cooked Keith’s favourite foods when Keith had a rough day. He didn’t seem nervous of Keith, just unsure of how to react to him. Keith knew he had an edge to his personality that Hunk didn’t like. It kept them at odds, preventing them from getting close. It frustrated Keith, because he couldn’t fix it, and confused him that he cared enough to try. He’d thought the sparring might make it better, but that was before his traitorous body had decided to want Hunk at the worst possible time.

As it happened, the realities of fighting an intergalactic war meant that he wasn’t actually able to coordinate another sparring session for three weeks. Keith finally managed to set up a time, and Hunk showed up looking like he was only there because he’d been ordered. Which, technically, was true, although Keith suspected that Hunk only followed his orders because no one else had stepped up to give any, not out of any deep-seated loyalty to Keith. Keith told himself he didn’t care, so long as his orders were followed in the field. And then told himself that, again.

Hunk folded his arms over his chest and scowled at him, although it seemed like his eyes were smiling. “For the record, please note that I resent having to participate in violence during my time off, given that all of the rest of my time is spent participating in violence.”

“Duly noted,” Keith said, and hit him.

He must’ve touched a nerve because Hunk didn’t hold back as much as usual. He still didn’t often land a punch on Keith, but that wasn’t what Keith wanted from him anyway. Keith led them through the forms, over and over, until he could tell Hunk was getting annoyed and tired. Keith kept pushing, breaking holds, evading catches, tripping Hunk up whenever he could. Eventually, Hunk stepped away, refusing to engage.

“What, exactly, are you trying to accomplish here?” He asked, finally showing genuine irritation.

“You need to fight harder or you’ll die,” Keith blurted, surprised at his own sudden honesty. Just because it was the truth, didn’t mean he’d intended to tell Hunk. He knew enough about leadership to understand that, at least.

“Oh,” said Hunk. “And here I was thinking you were just spending quality time with me.”

“Quality time would be if you were sparring better,” Keith said, and then ducked as Hunk swung at him. Finally.

The fight intensified after that, moving around the gym, with Keith blocking attacks as best he could. Hunk couldn’t win against him in a fair match – Keith had years more training and experience, combined with an actual will to fight, but Hunk had weight, and reach, and strength. When Keith took a risk, getting in close to try a hold, he found himself flat on his back with Hunk on top of him, and no way to leverage him off.

Hunk adjusted his grip, then used his weight to pin Keith onto the mats. Sweat dampened his hair, his body warm and heavy on top of Keith.

“Are we done here yet?” He asked, out of breath and exasperated.

“If you can throw me two more times, yes.”

Hunk sighed. “You have no idea how much I hate fighting. Either that or you do, and you hate me.”

“Stop being dramatic. You sound like Lance.” Keith shifted under Hunk, hinting that he should be released. He wasn’t. Hunk was warm, and heavy, and solid, a nice mix of softness and muscle. His body rested against Keith’s chest and belly, his legs between Keith’s. Even sweaty, he smelled amazing. They were both breathing a little fast, and every breath Hunk took moved Keith against him. Keith squirmed again, tapping Hunk on the shoulder to signal that he was submitting.

Keith’s brain stumbled over that idea, then backed up to take another look at it. Hunk was so warm, all his weight pressing Keith into the mat, and Keith was just… yielding to it. He was hard before he knew it, and what blood hadn’t rushed south was certainly heading to his face, flushing his skin a bright red.

“Let me up,” he croaked, knowing Hunk could feel his erection, pressed firmly against his hip. Hunk shifted his position, making it worse, and Keith bit back a groan. “Let me up, now.”

Hunk took his time getting up, and Keith, caught between panic and arousal, thought it might be deliberate. Hunk rested his weight on his arms first, leaving their hips pressed together, and then sat back. Keith freed himself, too roughly. He didn’t even try to pretend he wasn’t running away this time. He was sure he heard Hunk laugh softly, behind him, as he slipped out the door.

*

The third time it happened, Keith was in a bit of a mood, which was really nothing unusual. He’d grown up angry at people for leaving, and then stayed angry as a method of keeping people away so they couldn’t leave. Now Keith figured he was just angry because developing a better personality at this point would be way too much effort. Especially if they were all just going to die in this war in a few weeks or months or years. It’d be a waste. He was the moody, angry guy. It was his thing. Like Hunk was the brilliant but nervous engineer.

Said brilliant engineer was standing in the middle of the training room, flat-footed on the mats, looking bored out of his mind. Like he wasn’t even paying attention. At all. Keith resisted the urge to growl at him, and instead kept his voice low. Hunk had to walk closer to hear.

“Today we’re gonna work on using the environment to our advantage in a fight,” Keith said. Hunk suppressed a yawn. Keith decided to explain further, as punishment. “For example, the bench here could be a hazard if you trip over it, but if you knock your opponent backwards over it, they won’t be able to catch themselves from falling. If you trip them at the right angle and they fall and hit their head, they could die.”

“That’s… horrifying...”

“And the walls can be used for a variety of things-”

“I don’t need any other examples,” Hunk interrupted.

“Fine,” said Keith. “Let’s begin.”

Hunk was nowhere near as cautious as he’d once been, having seen first-hand that Keith could take a punch. He seemed to have a new mindset of let’s get this over with, and this improved his fighting tenfold. With Hunk actually allowing himself to fight back, the depth of his knowledge began to show. He knew all the pinning techniques, the throws and grapples, and the joint locks. Keith figured he knew all the choke-outs but just refused to use them. That was fine with Keith. He had a horrible feeling he’d come in his pants if Hunk so much as touched his throat.

Keith tried to banish that thought but it was too late, and Hunk, somehow, had seen his distraction.

Hunk pinned him against the wall with minimal effort, the fight barely holding his interest. Keith struggled, but he’d lost his advantage, and Hunk simply adjusted his hold, again and again. He overpowered Keith, more easily each time, and apparently this was exactly what Keith’s perfidious libido wanted. He couldn’t decide whether it was the futile struggle, or being physically dominated, or just that Hunk was so close to him, that was driving him so crazy. Keith was pinned against the wall, and there wasn’t anything he could do about it. He was so hard it hurt. And Hunk had to know.

Keith floundered, trying to wrestle Hunk off without touching him too much. He tried twice more to break Hunk’s grip on him, but he might as well have forgotten how to fight, for all the good it did. Hunk wasn’t even holding on that tightly. He pinned Keith with technique, and some part of Keith was definitely pleased to see Hunk putting his skills to use. The rest of him was a mess of nearly frantic arousal. Keith let himself drop down, a last-ditch effort to escape Hunk’s grasp. Hunk stepped closer to catch him. Keith lunged to the side, but Hunk just fixed the hold, leaning in, sliding one thick thigh between Keith’s legs to keep him off balance.

Oh fuck.

And Keith’s body moved of its own volition, grinding his clothed erection down onto Hunk’s thigh. He marveled at just how good it felt for almost an entire second before his brain froze over with horror. You just assaulted your teammate. You just dragged your cock over someone else’s body without their permission and not by accident. Holy fuck.

“Oh, wow,” Hunk said, then laughed. The sound shook Keith’s entire frame and warred with the sirens echoing in his head.

“I’m sorry, I’m so fucking sorry, I didn’t mean…. Get off me, I need….” He managed to gasp, not in complete sentences but Hunk understood. He dutifully stepped back, but when Keith tried to flee he blocked his path.

“Wait.”

Normally, Keith would just dodge and run because Hunk was no match, ever, for his agility. But Keith knew he was in the wrong here. He owed Hunk an apology. For starters.

Hunk watched him, head tilted to the side, eyes filled with amusement that he was barely suppressing. Keith slid to the ground, his back against the wall. He tucked his knees up to his chest because his traitorous body was apparently into mortifying embarrassment as well as friendly violence.

“So,” said Hunk, after he’d let the silence between them stretch out beyond awkwardness and into the realm of sadism. “Sparring does it for you, huh?”

“No,” Keith blurted, because it was the truth, kind of, and he didn’t want Hunk to think he was a freak. “I mean, not usually.”

Hunk raised an eyebrow. “Just recently, then? Because Lance and Pidge haven’t mentioned anything…”

Keith coughed and choked, and Hunk took that moment to sit down beside him and pat him on the back. He left his hand there. Keith gathered all of his scraps of brainpower and dignity together, and mustered an apology.

“I’m sorry. That was… really inappropriate. Especially since, well…”

“Since you’re the leader of Voltron, and so technically my superior officer?” Hunk finished for him, helpfully. His cheerful tone told Keith he knew exactly how effective his words would be.

“That does make it worse.”

Hunk nodded in agreement. “Not your greatest moment as leader, but still, mostly hilarious. You getting embarrassed and running away is the only part of sparring that’s slightly interesting. Or enjoyable.” Hunk looked as though this was the funniest thing that had happened to him all week. Keith resisted the urge to cover his eyes and forced himself to sit still.

“And so, I’ll accept your apology,” Hunk continued, in a voice that managed to be both ebullient, and slightly menacing. “But you do owe me some sort of explanation.”

“What do you need, Hunk?” Keith asked, not realizing how suggestive it sounded until the words left his mouth and he couldn’t claw them back. Just throw yourself at him again, why don’t you?

“Tell me what’s going on with you, for starters. If you wanted me to fuck you, you could’ve asked, like a normal person.” Hunk’s reasonable, pragmatic tone didn’t change. He managed to convey, with a look, that he’d be more than happy to fuck Keith if that was what Keith wanted, even if Keith was a complete fucking idiot.

“I-” Keith sputtered. “I didn’t think-”

“You didn’t think that was what you wanted, or you didn’t think that I would?” Hunk prodded.

“I didn’t think,” Keith said. Hunk looked at him, assessing.

“At all?” He asked, finally, as though not thinking about something was so foreign a concept that he couldn’t even begin to comprehend it.

Keith spread his hands, at a loss. “I had other things to think about?”

“So, you… just… figured that this was something you’d deal with later? Or never?”

“I didn’t think,” Keith said again. “Yes, I ran when it happened, but then I had other things to do, leading Voltron, setting up supply networks, negotiating with rebel groups, working with the Marmora…” Keith trailed off for a moment. “And then it wasn’t like I could just stop training you, just because I made it weird sometimes.” He didn’t say, and if I didn’t train you, and you died, it would be my fault, and that terrifies me.

Hunk looked at him like he’d just been given way more insight into Keith’s brain than he’d ever wanted. It seemed to be giving him a headache. Finally, he climbed to his feet, and offered a hand to Keith, who was still half-curled around himself. Keith let Hunk help him up, then stood there, way too close, trying to find a way out of this situation.  

Hunk paused, looking Keith over, speculative. “Can I do something for you, Keith?”

Keith froze, and after a moment, Hunk frowned at him. “Some potential answers are, ‘Yes, Hunk, please fuck me,’ or ‘No thanks, I think I’ll just keep scheduling these weirdly sexual super awkward training sessions’.”

“The first one,” Keith managed to squeak, because apparently his brain was no longer functioning.

“Great,” said Hunk, with only the slightest trace of sarcasm. “I expect you to tell me immediately if you change your mind.”

Keith nodded, and then yelped as Hunk shouldered him into the wall. He fought back automatically, breaking the hold and sliding under Hunk’s arm. He reached around to catch Hunk in a lock but couldn’t quite manage it. He dodged an elbow to the face and swiped at Hunk’s legs, trying to trip him. Hunk proved that he had learned something from their sessions, and countered by using Keith’s momentum against him. Keith hit the floor hard and tried to roll away, but Hunk followed and pinned him, driving Keith into the mats with all his weight behind him. Keith didn’t think he’d ever been harder. This time when Hunk leaned into him, Keith gave up all pretense of sparring and arched against him.

“Holy fuck,” Hunk muttered, the words muffled against Keith’s throat. He wedged a knee between Keith’s legs and got an armload of Keith for his trouble.

“Well?” Keith demanded, now fully committed to this course of action. He felt the situation slip out of his control and didn’t bother chasing after it.

Hunk took a moment to stare at Keith, incredulous, then dropped his mouth to Keith’s throat. He kissed a wet trail along the exposed skin while Keith keened under him, already overstimulated. Hunk didn’t bother to remove Keith’s tank top, simply pushed it out of his way when it covered skin he wanted to access. He took his time running his hands over Keith’s body, until Keith was blushing and flustered and achingly hard. Hunk’s fingers curled under the waistband of Keith’s sweatpants, tugging them down over his hips. Keith lifted up a bit to help him, and ended up with his pants around his ankles. He shivered at the sudden exposure as Hunk pulled them all the way off and tossed them aside.

“No underwear, huh?” Hunk said, in a tone that meant, that’s a weird choice. Keith ignored him. Hunk’s hands roamed, broad and warm, sliding over Keith’s belly before reaching down. Keith jumped when Hunk wrapped one big hand around him, encircling his cock, pressing his thumb against the head. Keith made a noise that was embarrassingly needy, and dug his heels into the mats. He forced himself to hold still while Hunk stroked him, and bit his lip when Hunk let go.

Hunk pushed Keith’s knees apart and knelt closer, between Keith’s thighs, keeping them spread. The part of Keith’s brain still capable of rational thought paused to consider how much he loved even the idea of that, open and vulnerable, his body unfolding in front of Hunk. Keith gulped a breath and flushed, feeling exposed but unable to do anything about it, surprised at how much he liked it. Hunk pushed Keith flat on his back again, then leaned over him, sliding his hands down Keith’s sides and stopping to grip his waist.

“Wrap your legs around me,” Hunk ordered, and Keith hurried to comply. He spread his legs open around Hunk’s hips, managing to tuck his feet, just barely, between Hunk’s legs. What followed was the squirmiest, neediest hand job that Keith had ever received. He couldn’t help himself, and Hunk was inexorable. Hunk braced one hand against Keith’s hip and rested his weight on it, keeping him pinned down. His other hand, roughened from work, wrapped around Keith’s swollen cock and tugged, slowly. Hunk refused to build a rhythm, and his hand on Keith’s hip kept Keith from bucking into his grasp. He stopped once to spit into his palm, but soon Keith had leaked enough that he didn’t need to again.

“You’re a fucking nightmare,” Keith growled, finally, after what had seemed like an eternity of frustration. He squeezed Hunk with his legs, half a threat, trying to keep his hands to himself for fear that Hunk would stop entirely. Hunk laughed at him, not even trying to hide it, and Keith felt himself flush again, cheeks burning, red even to his chest. His cock throbbed, and he knew Hunk felt it, and somehow that made it both better and worse, because now Hunk was smiling at him as though Keith had told him an absolutely delicious secret. Keith cursed again, under his breath, and reached for his cock.

Instantly, Hunk grabbed his wrists and pinned them. Keith would’ve been impressed with his speed, but now he was aching for touch. He tried to roll his hips against Hunk, but Hunk shuffled away enough to keep them separated.

“I thought you weren’t gonna try to rub your cock on me anymore,” he teased, his hands like vises around Keith’s. Keith tested his grip and felt his bones grind together. He didn’t think he could get any harder. Precum leaked down his erection.

“I thought you were actually going to get me off, instead of just…” Keith trailed off and made a half-hearted effort to pull Hunk down onto him using his legs. Hunk resisted.

“Instead of what?” He asked, almost gently, and Keith forced himself to look away, staring into the gym lights high overhead. Hunk waited a moment, then suggested, “tormenting you?”

“What am I being punished for here?” Keith demanded, arching towards Hunk unsuccessfully.

“Oh, I can think of a few things…” Hunk began, and Keith caught on.

“If you want an apology for making you fight, you’re going to be waiting a while.”

“I thought you might say that,” Hunk said. He dropped his gaze to Keith’s crotch, deliberately.

“I’m not begging you either.”

Hunk raised one eyebrow. “No?” He asked, innocently.

Keith tossed his head back against the mat in frustration. Hunk didn’t move.

“I’ll let go if you ask me, of course,” Hunk began. “But really, I think you’d be much happier if-”

Keith let out a breath he didn’t know he’d been holding. “Please,” he said, feeling his face burn. Hunk watched him thoughtfully.

“Please what?”

“Please touch me.”

“I am touching you.”

“Hunk, fuck, I mean…”

“Fine,” Hunk relented. “Keep your hands off your dick. And out of my hair.”

Keith wriggled under him. “Yeah, yeah, I get it. I thought you were gonna help me out here, though.”

Hunk released his wrists, dropping one hand to Keith’s hip, his thumb sliding over the smooth expanse of Keith’s belly. He lifted the other to Keith’s mouth, pushing two fingers past Keith’s lips. Keith let him, swirling his tongue before sucking hard, letting his cheeks hollow. Hunk swore in surprise, then pushed his fingers in further, until Keith gagged. He didn’t think he’d ever been harder, choking and coughing on Hunk’s fingers, starting to wish it was Hunk’s cock in his mouth instead. He didn’t get a chance to say so, because Hunk took hold of him again, stroking him rhythmically, his grip hot and tight and perfect. He moaned around Hunk’s fingers, drooling, and after a moment Hunk pulled them away. He slid his hand under Keith, pressing against his ass, not at an angle that would penetrate but just adding sensation. Keith bucked against him, trying to push himself harder into Hunk’s hands. Hunk moved with him, hands utterly perfect, letting Keith thrash and gasp his way towards orgasm.

“I’m gonna come,” he blurted, half out of his mind.

“Yeah,” Hunk agreed, “hurry up then.” He tightened his grip and Keith saw stars. He arched his back and yelled, coming hard all over Hunk’s hand, surprising both of them with the force of his response. He grabbed Hunk’s arms with both hands, clutching at him, trying to pull him closer. Hunk resisted, continuing to stroke Keith as he shuddered, not stopping until Keith moaned and tapped out.

Keith opened eyes he hadn’t realized he’d closed to find Hunk watching him, eyes sparkling with amusement.

“Been a while?” He asked. “Not gonna lie, sexual frustration’s a pretty good look on you. Certainly makes sparring better.”

“Hey,” Keith protested, but then couldn’t manage to say anything else because his brain had apparently melted. He couldn’t catch his breath. He realized he was still clutching Hunk’s shirt with one hand and forced himself to let go. He didn’t try to sit up, just tilted his head enough that he could look at Hunk, who was still kneeling between his legs. Hunk dragged a hand over Keith’s thigh, and Keith thought about how easy it would be to get used to this. And then firmly banished that thought from his mind.

“Let me help you with that?” He gestured at Hunk’s crotch, and Hunk rolled his eyes, snickering.

“Can you? You look kind of out of it. Why don’t you go have a nap?” Hunk leaned closer, bracing one hand beside Keith’s shoulder. Keith wanted to pull Hunk down on top of him and let him rut against him. Instead, he wrapped both arms around Hunk’s neck and dragged him closer for a kiss. He felt Hunk startle for a second, then his mouth was on Keith’s, his lips soft and warm, much gentler than expected. Keith kissed him hard, and Hunk gave it back to him, kissing him deeper, sharing breath.

“We should... we should take this somewhere else... if you want...” Keith muttered, pulling away for a moment. He didn’t want to let go of Hunk, but he was beginning to realize he was still sitting bare-assed in the middle of the gym. His belly was a sticky mess. He felt Hunk smirk against his throat.

“My room’s closer,” he offered, and jumped when Keith reached down to palm his erection through his sweatpants. “Fuck, Keith,” he swore.

“Well?”

Hunk pulled away from Keith reluctantly, climbing carefully to his feet. He held out a hand, and Keith took it.

“Let’s go then.”