Archive of Our Own ^beta

Never does there seem to be a day where Lance is not a tremendous pain in Keith's ass.

Usually, Keith's time on the training deck is productive and relaxing. Helps him clear his head, and feel better assured about his capabilities. He keeps a rigorous schedule, and stays sharp and focused on the task.

This time, though, Lance has decided that he is going to make everything extremely awful.

Because Lance is an idiot and never has any idea what's going on, he's arrived at the deck when it is very clearly Keith's turn. Instead of waiting for Keith to finish, like anyone normal would obviously do, he marches right up to Keith — who is obviously still engaged in intense single combat with the Gladiator — and loudly proclaims, "Hey Keith! It's the big man's turn to play ball on the court, so you'd best finish up."

"If you want to wait, I'll be done in fifteen minutes," Keith grunts, parrying a blow from the Gladiator. His blade sparks as it slides against its opponent's, struggling for the upper hand.

Lance folds his arms. He's hovering uncomfortably close. "I don't wanna wait. I want to do it now."

"Well —" Keith pulls back his bayard, feints left and then drives his shoulder into the abdomen of the Gladiator. "— that's just —" The training dummy clatters to the ground. " — too bad —" Keith drives his sword through its chest. It flickers and vanishes in a spray of sparks. "— for you." He pulls himself back up straight and wipes his forehead on the back of his hand. "Again!"

Lance actually huffs when he sees the Gladiator reapparate. "What? You were done!"

"Not according to the schedule," Keith says, throwing himself back into an exchange of blows. "If you want to get on the schedule, go talk to Shiro."

"There's a schedule for solo practice on the training deck?"

"Uh, yeah. Do you pay attention to anything?"

Lance's voice turns whiny and nasal. "I don't want to train on a schedule," he complains. "I want to train right now. What, you expect me to do this every day? No, Keith. Listen. I've been struck with inspiration. This is my art. You can't force a thing like this."

Keith tenses as a shot of anger goes through him. It puts him off his game — the Gladiator gets in a kick, sending him skidding painfully across the floor. He's even more furious when Lance laughs at him. "You're distracting me!" Keith says. "Just get out of here and wait your turn!"

"No way," Lance titters. "Watching you get your butt kicked is just too good."

Keith has had it. "End training sequence," he spits, pulling himself to his feet when the Gladiator disappears.

"Oh? Are you giving up?" Lance asks, hand on his hip. "Is the big bad training dummy too much for the great and mighty Keith?"

"You are so annoying!" Keith shouts, throwing his weapon to the ground with a resounding clatter. "Okay, that's enough. No more Gladiator. You want to train? Fine. Let's train. Just you and me, right now."

Lance seems surprised to have actually gotten what he wanted. "O-oh, uh, right," he says. He hesitates before setting aside his own bayard, and readies himself for a fight.

Expression severe, Keith wastes no time to begin. He makes a beeline for where Lance stands, and throws himself right into a furious punch. Lance manages to dodge to the side, but he's not so quick in evading the follow-up — he catches Keith's next swing with his arms, and takes a bad blow to the solar plexus.

"Wait, hold on!" Lance yelps, staggering back as he gasps for breath. Keith manages to stop himself, allowing Lance to gain some distance. "Stop! I wasn't ready. I want a do over."

Keith sneers. "You're a pest and a coward, Lance."

Keith can see the sweat beading on Lance's forehead already as he falls back and reassumes a fighting stance. Preparation wasn't the problem — Lance isn't up to speed on his hand-to-hand combat skills at all. Keith will enjoy getting to beat the everliving daylights out of him, and maybe the shame of being so thoroughly defeated will motivate him to actually train the rest of his abilities. Really, there's no good reason not to instigate a childish fist-fight.

At any rate, Lance still seems willing to play along despite obviously being outclassed. They circle each other; Keith can tell that Lance is largely mimicking his movements. He's trying to appear like he knows what he's doing, but Keith sees right through it. Keith's mouth cocks into a grin, and Lance echoes him. What a leech. Lance is pathetic. "What are you waiting for?" Keith demands. "Is that really the best you've got? Come on! If you're so good, show me!"

The goading works. Lance rushes for him. He's clumsy, but fast — Keith manages to slide out of the way of his swing at just the last moment, and spins around to direct a kick into the back of Lance's knee. It connects, and Lance comes toppling down, though not before grabbing two fistfuls of Keith's shirt.

They both fall hard. Lance, to his credit, doesn't waste a second. He's back on Keith in an instant, and this time his punch connects square with Keith's stomach. The pain is deep and blunt and knocks the wind out of him. He seizes, wheezing for air, and only barely manages to twist out of the way before Lance's next fist hits the floor where his head had just been.

Keith takes back the upper hand by pulling Lance down and forcing him into a roll. Lance kicks and flails, all but abandoning any pretense of technique. He starts slapping Keith. It's made all the more annoying by the fact it's actually more difficult to deal with than the punching. "Stop it, you little baby!" Keith bites out through clenched teeth. He tries to grab for Lance's wrists to restrain him, but Lance is too quick. He gets a handful of Keith's hair and yanks hard.

It's surprising how painful it actually is. Keith yelps and loses his balance. "If you'd cut the damn mullet this wouldn't happen!" Lance barks, pleased with himself, and shoves Keith face-first into the floor.

Keith snarls with anger as he feels blood fill his mouth. If this is how Lance is going to play it, he's done holding back.

Lance scrambles to pull himself to his feet as Keith wrenches himself free and rolls onto his back. When their gazes meet, and Lance gets a good look at that murderous glint in his eye, his face fills with an instinctual fear. Keith gets up and starts to yell, really let loose all of his pent up frustration and rage, and lunges with all of his strength and speed behind it.

This time, when Keith tackles Lance to the ground and clambers astride him, all but spraying spit through his clenched teeth, Lance isn't laughing. He knows now that this isn't a joke. Keith doesn't think this is a fun game between pals. Lance wanted them to fight, wanted them to argue and bicker and become enemies and for all Keith's initial apathy and disinclination it's finally worked. Lance has gotten what he wanted. Keith hates Lance — really really hates him, thinks he's so annoying that he can't even put up with it, wants to just cave his smug face in. He looks down at Lance beneath him, with his flushed face and wide eyes and trembling lip, and in that moment something so hot and piercing goes through his chest that he can't see straight.

Keith doesn't even realize what he's just done until the pain of their teeth clacking together brings him back to a sobering reality.

Lance has wrenched himself free and is yelling and gesticulating. Keith brings his fingers to his own lips and they come away bloody. It's his tongue that's bleeding, he dimly realizes. He swallows his spit and the taste of iron makes him feel a little ill.

Or maybe that's just the fact he and Lance just kissed.

"Ohhhhhhhhhhhhhhh my god what was that!!!!" Lance yells, throwing his hands into the air. "What. Was. That?" His voice cracks. "Keith!!!!!"

"Uh," Keith says, still sitting on the ground. He looks back down at his fingers, and then back up to Lance. "Uh?"

"I thought you were going to kill me, not kiss me, you — you — those are two very different verbs, you know!"

"I mean, yeah, I know. I'm aware of it."

"Why!?"

Keith thinks about it. It doesn't make much of any sense. He certainly doesn't like Lance. Lance is still unbearably annoying. Any positive feeling he might hold for this idiot is begrudging at best. Are there wires getting crossed somewhere?

He keeps coming back to his bloody fingers, though they offer little answer. Not matter how long he searches, he doesn't come up with any better explanation. "I guess because I wanted to," he says. "So, you know, I did it."

Lance deflates. His posture sags, his limbs resembling limp noodles. "Oh, this is just too much. This is just, straight up, too much for me to deal with. Take it back. Undo what you did. Unfuck this situation."

"I don't think the situation is that fucked?"

"What!?!"

Keith starts to pull himself up onto his feet, a little bit wobbly. "Well, do you wanna do it again?"

Lance looks disgusted, like he's about to vomit. His face twists into a caricature of revulsion. "Yeah!? Kinda!?" he spits out, as if the words tasted awful in his mouth.

Keith straightens himself out, and beckons Lance near. "Come on, then."

The speed with which Lance closes the distance between them is startling. He shoots straight for Keith, takes the sides of his face in his hands and mashes their mouths together. It's not much less painful than the last one.

Keith lets his arm curl around Lance's shoulders and kisses him back. It feels good. It's not because Lance is very good at it — he clearly has absolutely no idea what he is doing. In fact, it's actually one of the worst kisses Keith has ever had. Just absolutely awful. It's 90% teeth, and Lance keeps trying to put his tongue in at anything but an opportune moment. Keith actually cannot come up with any reason to explain how he's still managing to enjoy it.

At least, he's enjoying it until Lance starts fucking talking again. "Heh heh. You know, I could always tell you had the hots for me, Keith."

Keith's grip on the back of Lance's neck turns harsh. A warning. Lance pales. "You're so desperate for my attention it's a wonder I didn't figure out what you were up to sooner," he says.

Lance tries to laugh it off. "Pfft. Hadn't even thought about it. I'm just giving you what you want, champ."

"Please. You're like a little boy throwing sand at the girl you like on the playground," Keith says. "I can't believe it, you've really had a crush on me all this time? I can't believe your game is so bad. You could've just asked me out. What is wrong with you?"

"Well, uh, we're making out right now, so it can't have been that bad."

"No, it's extremely bad," Keith says, shaking his head. "It's embarrassing. I'm embarrassed for you. Why are you talking? Don't ever talk again."

Unfortunately, Lance talks many more times after that.

If Keith were asked what the most surprising recent development in his life was, "tasked with defending the universe from an evil space empire" would honestly probably come in at a distant second to "voluntarily making out with Lance in a closet".

But here he is, in a closet, making out with Lance.

It's not even close to the first time. Whenever the two of them get into a fight — which has not become any less frequent since they began this arrangement — the primary mode of conflict resolution in which they engage now seems to be immediately leaving, finding the closest secluded area and just going at it.

Keith's lips hurt. Lance is getting better at kissing, but at a glacial pace, because he seems to refuse to accept that the things that he is doing are terrible. It's like he's making a sport of finding out how hard he can bite or suck on Keith's lips. At least he's toned down on the invasive wet noodle tongue.

The fact that Keith is going along with this — that he honestly enjoys this — continues to be utterly incomprehensible. It's not like Lance gets any less irritating with a tongue down his throat. In fact, often quite the opposite.

Maybe Keith really is just that horny.

That possibility is thrown into particularly sharp relief when they manage to trip over a space bucket in the space janitor's closet and topple over against each other. Keith catches Lance and rights them before they can fall, and with Lance's weight pressed upon him and Lance's thigh wedged between his legs, something is certainly becoming apparent.

Keith feels his own pulse heavily in his throat. He thinks that looking at Lance like this, face flushed, lips swollen and eyes dark in the dim cyan light, is driving him a little crazy. He feels more than a little crazy when he suddenly blurts out, "Do you wanna get out of here?"

Of course, Lance doesn't get it. "What?" he asks, breathless. He mostly seems confused as to why Keith has stopped kissing him.

This entire arrangement with Lance hasn't involved much thinking about anything. The revelations come to him suddenly and without warning, and leave him a little whiplashed. Keith isn't sure he much likes how intensely it all feels, but he's past the point where he can try to stubbornly deny it.

Keith wants to fuck. Lance is gross, and annoying, and even thinking about it is unusually embarrassing, but Keith wants to fuck him so badly he can't stand it. "We could go to my room," he suggests, licking his lips absentmindedly. "More private."

Lance laughs. Keith can't tell whether he's nervously dodging the subject or is honestly just this dumb. "I don't think this place has any janitors, buddy. Nobody else is gonna barge in here."

There's not really a point in beating around the bush, is there? While Keith doesn't want the attention to go to Lance's head, he's realized that if he doesn't make the move and make it hard, he's never going to fucking get laid. So he steels himself for the worst, leaves his dignity for dead and asks, "Do you think about me when you jerk off?"

Keith catches Lance completely off-guard — he looks like he's just seen a ghost. "What?" he stammers in a small voice.

"I think about you," he confides, his lips close to Lance's throat. He can feel Lance shudder under his hot breath. "You're all I think about anymore."

Lance's face is so red he looks like a beet. "R-really?" he practically squeaks. Keith winces, and endures Lance's best attempts to recover. "Haha, I mean, of course you think about me. If I were making out with me, I —"

It takes all of Keith's willpower to not allow his eyes to roll into the back of his skull and stick there; he cuts Lance off by dragging the breadth of his tongue up the side of his neck. It has its desired effect — Lance freezes stiff, utterly petrified, his words caught in his throat. Keith draws him close, leans in by his ear. "I want to suck your cock," Keith breathes. "I want to fuck you until I come inside of you."

"Oh my god," Lance exhales. Lance is fucking gone. It's a good thing that Keith is holding him by the waist because his knees nearly give out. But then even Keith isn't expecting how much that sound Lance makes affects him — he feels something hot and seizing in his chest, a rush like static through his head. His cock throbs in pants, hard. There's no way Lance can't feel it against his thigh.

It's not like Keith is even that smooth but Lance is so pathetic and inept that he looks like a Lothario by comparison. Keith almost feels bad about it. Lance is just... shaking. He's taken hold of Keith's upper arms for support but Keith can feel the tremble in his fingers, and his legs are like jelly. Keith pulls back and Lance stares back at him with wide eyes, his mouth hanging open. Keith didn't know a person could even look that red.

Lance's attempts at formulating a response are frankly sad. He eeks out a completely unintelligible mumble. Keith nudges him along. "So do you wanna come back to my room or not?"

"I... um...." All pretense of the cool guy act is gone. God, he's pouring sweat. Keith can smell it now, and it's making him weirdly horny — but it's unlikely that Lance would survive if he started licking it off now. "I. Well."

"Well?"

Lance attempts to wear something resembling a smile but it comes out on his face like a horrible rictus. "It's just that — I haven't — ever — actually —"

Keith gets too impatient waiting for him to just admit it. "Lance, I know you're a virgin."

"W-what?! I didn't say — I wasn't gonna say —"

"You totally were, though. Like... you are."

Lance brings his shaking hands up to cover his face. "That's not —"

Keith steps back and folds his arms, leaving Lance with the monumental task of supporting his own weight. He barely manages. "One time I palmed your junk through your jeans and you came in your pants."

Lance peeks through his fingers. "One time?" he repeats. He lets his hands lower and starts looking oddly pleased with himself. Keith furrows his brow. "Cuz after that time I started wearing three pairs of underpants and if you haven't noticed any other times it's been working."

Keith's face twists into a grimace. "... I take it back. I'm going back to my room to jerk off by myself."

"Wait wait wait wait wait," Lances gushes, scrambling after Keith to grab him when he turns to go. "Let's — let's talk about this!"

Keith stops in his tracks. "Do you want to bang or what?"

"Yes!" Lance blurts out. "I mean — maybe!?"

"Maybe?"

"Yeah! Maybe!"

"What does maybe mean? Do you have, what, conditions?"

"Um." Lance lets his arms fall back by his sides. "Maybe let me... think about it, and — I mean, I need to be prepared —"

Keith isn't sure he likes the sound of this. It's not like he's gonna force Lance to do anything he doesn't want to do, but if he knows anything about this guy, there is absolutely nothing that can come of "preparation" that won't be horribly mortifying for the both of them. What is he gonna do, bring candles and roses? God forbid, try to wear something "sexy"?

"I don't want to do anything stupid," Keith says. "Please don't bring anything stupid to my room. Bring yourself, and that's literally it. And if you're wearing more than one pair of underpants when I'm taking them off you I'm kicking you out."

"Don't worry. I won't be wearing any."

"You're really annoying. How about tomorrow after lunch?"

"I-it's a date!"

"No it isn't," Keith insists, and goes back to his room by himself to jack off.

Keith isn't sure what time it is, or how long he's been sitting on his bed.

He and Lance parted ways after lunch, at Lance's insistence. Keith would've been perfectly fine just walking him back to his room, but Lance was adamant that they had to make it look like they weren't going together. It's a little bit ridiculous.

Keith isn't sure what Lance is so embarrassed about. If anyone has anything to be embarrassed about, it's Keith — Lance isn't the one displaying the poor judgment of initiating a sexual relationship with a little gremlin as annoying as he is. Keith would be a perfectly respectable boyfriend, if that was what they were, which they aren't.

Lance is taking his sweet time. Keith wonders if he actually got lost. Or maybe he's having second thoughts, and isn't going to show after all? Keith is a second away from getting up to go look for him when his door finally slides open to reveal Lance stood on the other side.

"Oh, hey," Keith says.

From the sight of his still slightly damp hair, Lance must've taken the time to shower. He lingers in the doorway like he's got a ramrod through his spine, and looks like he's afraid to come in. "Uh, hey," he replies.

"You... can come in?" Keith says.

"Oh. Yeah. I can."

Lance steps forward. When the door slides shut behind him, he jumps and makes a very undignified noise. Keith can't help but laugh. This does not make Lance's nerves any better. "Okay, nevermind, I'm out!" he says, and immediately turns.

"Wait, wait, hold on," Keith implores. Lance stops in his tracks, hand on the frame of the door, and slowly turns back.

"Um," Lance stammers, wearing the most pitiable forced grin Keith has ever seen.

"Don't go. I'm sorry I laughed. C'mere."

Lance sighs and relents. He approaches Keith where he's sat on the bed, and awkwardly kicks off his shoes when he realizes he's still wearing them. After a moment of standing around, Keith reaches out to pull Lance down onto his lap.

Lance certainly looks startled to suddenly be in such a position. He sits astride Keith completely stiff, eyes wide, his hands braced on Keith's shoulders like he's afraid to even be touching him.

"You need to relax," Keith says. "You have nothing to worry about."

"I'm not worried about anything," Lance insists.

Keith reaches over to take one of Lance's hands, and pointedly holds it up between them. Lance's fingers are visibly shaking. Lance is quick to snatch his hand away, embarrassed, and holds it close to his chest.

"That isn't worry," he says. "I have — I have low blood sugar, is all."

"Low blood sugar," Keith dryly repeats.

Lance brings his hands up to cover his face and groans. "Oh, come on."

"Look, it's fine that you're nervous," Keith says. He takes both of Lance's hands and pries them off his face, and then he just... holds them, rubbing circles into the centers of Lance's palms with his thumbs. Keith feels the trembling subside, just a little. "If you don't want to do this, we can stop. Do you wanna do this?"

Lance's mouth opens and closes. "Yeah, I do wanna do it."

"Then what's the big deal?"

"I don't know. It's weird. This is weird. I mean, you're a boy, and that's kind of weird."

"Is it?"

"Yeah. I've never thought about it with a guy. I don't know what it's gonna be like. I don't know what you're gonna do."

Keith raises his eyebrows. "Well, if you don't like any of the things I do, tell me and I won't do them."

"Well... I... all right," Lance says. He laces his fingers through Keith's and gives a weak squeeze. After an awkward pause, he leans in to press their lips together. His mouth tastes like he just brushed his teeth.

Keith shifts to take Lance by the wrists and kisses him back, gentle but assertive. Lance cedes control as Keith deepens the kiss; he keeps his arms raised while Keith slips his fingers under his shirt and brings it up over his head.

With his shirt discarded, Keith has free access to lick over Lance's chest. Lance wraps his arms around Keith's neck and breathes in a shaking staccato as Keith takes a nipple between his teeth, bites lightly, pulls it into his mouth and sucks. The way Lance moans at the intimate touch makes Keith painfully hard, cock already straining against the confines of his pants.

Lance's attempts to remove Keith's shirt are kind of awkward, so Keith breaks away to help the effort along. He tosses his shirt to the side and shifts to press Lance down onto the bed, attacking his neck and collar with his lips and teeth. "Fuck, Keith," Lance whimpers, pawing at Keith's back.

Keith breaks away after leaving a particularly red welt at the junction of Lance's neck and shoulder. It's nowhere that would easily show, but it exhilarates him to see it nonetheless — the thrill of that sense of possession catches him off-guard. He looks down at Lance, eyes raking over his body, the vulnerability of his expression, the way he offers himself up willingly; it makes Keith feel powerful.

"Y-you're really into me, huh," Lance remarks, tittering nervously.

It must be obvious from his face. Keith doesn't deny it. He lets his palm spread open over the lean muscle of Lance's abdomen and run up over his chest, brushing his nipple with a thumb. "Yeah," Keith says. "You're hot, I guess."

Lance looks almost offended. "I guess??"

I guess is about as eloquently as Keith can put it. If Keith were to describe his ideal partner, he's not quite sure it would be Lance — Lance is bony and gangly and has no ass, and his face is cute, but it's not like Keith would be doing doubletakes on the street if he passed by.

All the same, he can't deny that he's incredibly attracted. He looks at Lance and his breath feels short. He salivates. His cock is so hard it hurts. He wants to break Lance into pieces, devour him — in absence of an ability to articulate it, he settles for kissing Lance on the lips hard.

Lance moans against his mouth. Keith wants to hear what he'll sound like when he's getting fucked so bad. Keith bites at his lips, slips a hand around under the small of Lance's back and feels him arch up — his body is already hot and slick with sweat. Keith releases a breathy groan as they slide together.

"I really want to," Lance breathes out. "I really really wanna —"

Keith fumbles with the fly of Lance's jeans. He yanks it down, starts pulling on his pants to get them off — Lance does his best to help without breaking contact between their mouths. The moment they're off, Keith takes his cock into his hand. He's so hard. God, it feels good. Keith wants him in his mouth, wants to drink his fucking cum —

"Wait wait wait wait," Lance says, stopping Keith on his journey down. "I want to see yours first."

Jolted out of his singular focus, Keith looks up. It takes him a moment to even realize what Lance just asked. "Uh, okay," he says, and shifts to start kicking off his own pants. Lance looks too nervous and wired to help, but before long, Keith is equally naked and visibly hard.

Lance takes one look and becomes awful. "Ha. Mine's bigger," he insists, affixing a shit-eating grin onto his face.

Keith looks down at his own cock, and then at Lance's. They don't look that far off in size, but Keith is pretty certain that his is at least thicker. "Uh, I don't think so," he says.

"Nope. I can see it! I'm longer!"

God, this kid is fucking annoying. Keith groans and draws Lance up against his body — Lance squirms at first, startled, but accedes when he realizes what Keith is actually trying to do. He looks down between them as Keith takes both of their dicks into his hand.

"No. I'm obviously bigger. You can tell when it's like this," Keith declares. He has to have at least half an inch on Lance. He's annoyed by how pleased he is about it. Like this even fucking matters. He never cared about any of this kind of stuff — these dick measuring contests which have just become aggravatingly literal — until Lance came along and started exerting some sort of insidious childish influence over his mind. Lance makes him so petty.

Lance just looks flustered, especially when Keith starts lazily stroking them together in his hand. "What — from where I was sitting I was sure — okay, obviously you're just hornier than I am so it's harder. Haha, calm down Keith, desperate is a bad look."

A shot of irritation goes through Keith's chest and makes his teeth clench hard. "You are the most annoying person I've ever even spoken to," he says, pressing Lance back down onto the bed flat. "Don't ever talk to me again."

Lance refuses to just stay passive and shut up. He lifts himself up on his elbows so he can stare with wide eyes as Keith makes his way down his body. "Oh my god, you're really gonna —"

"Yeah, I'm really gonna," Keith says, gripping Lance's cock in his hand. "Now stop talking. I'm so serious about this — if you say a single word to me while I'm trying to suck your cock —" Keith feels Lance throb in his hand, so hard he's dripping, sees his lashes flutter as his eyes go out of focus and drift up. "— I swear to god I will get up and leave. I will. Don't test me, Lance."

"O-okay," Lance squeaks. Keith hopes he's not going to call his bluff, because there's literally no way he's taking Lance's dick out of his mouth once he starts.

Lance's cock feels good in Keith's hand — firm, pulsing, and the flesh slides easily over the hard shaft. Keith leisurely drags his fist up over the head, then down to roll back the skin and expose Lance's glistening glans. The accumulation of precum spreads and leaves him wet, slick and sticky to the touch.

His cock is... it's pretty, like the rest of him, smooth and a little slender. Untouched. The head is flushed a deep rose-pink, and it looks dark in Keith's pale hand, substantial. Keith feels himself salivate.

Lance whimpers and clamps a hand over his own mouth as Keith presses the first exploratory lick to the head of his cock. The moisture beading at the tip coats his tongue, and he breathes heavily out. Lance shivers under his touch.

Keith can tell that Lance is desperate to say anything. It almost makes him feel bad, seeing Lance squirm like that, like he's bursting at the seams. So Keith looks up and offers limited permission with a question. "Does that feel good?"

"Yeah, yeah, it does," Lance babbles, relieved to let the words out. He reaches down to thread his fingers through Keith's hair, holds on close to the scalp and pulls. "Keith, it feels so good. Come on. Don't stop."

Keith presses Lance's cock back against his stomach and drags the breadth of his tongue slowly up the underside of the shaft. Lance writhes beneath him, canting up his hips. He's just as noisy as Keith expected — he pants and keens loudly. "Come on, put it in your mouth, suck me," he begs. "I wanna feel —"

Keith can't deal with teasing him any longer, either. He draws back, steadies Lance's cock in his fist and sinks down over the head. Fuck, it's so warm and hard, like fire in his mouth.

Lance sits up in a jolt, pulling on Keith's hair hard enough to hurt. "Oh god, oh my god," he whines, thrusting up into Keith's mouth. Keith does his best not to choke. "Ohhhh god, Keith, what are you doing to me?"

Keith has to use a hand to hold Lance's hips steady so he doesn't gag. He licks over the tip of his cock, sucks the head into his mouth — he doesn't need to do much to push Lance to the point of incoherence. He pumps the shaft in his fist as he bobs his head, bathing the glans with his tongue, sucking it hard. Keith can't help how pent up he's getting either, and he moans deep in his throat, so thirsty for it — he wants Lance to come inside of him, fill his mouth and —

And then Lance is pulling on his hair again, harder now, like he's actually trying to yank Keith off. "Fuck, fuck, stop, I'm gonna, shit, already, you've gotta stop —"

Keith manages to pull himself off, however reluctantly. He holds the base of him in his fist and looks up at Lance, annoyed. He can feel the cock pulsing in his hand — he's so close. If he'd kept it in only a second longer he'd — "Just come," Keith says. "Come in my mouth. It's fine. I want it."

Lance falls back. His chest is heaving. His face is so red, his skin glinting with sweat. "But —"

"How long does it even take you to get it up again? 10 minutes?" Keith says. He speaks quickly, feeling breathless and impatient. "We'll go again. I know you're new at this, I didn't even expect you to last 30 seconds." Fuck, he just wants to have Lance back in his mouth.

Lance looks like he can't decide whether to be relieved or offended. Either way, he ultimately decides not to be a little shit about it, much to Keith's relief. "Okay," he mumbles, letting himself relax. "I... all right."

"Good," Keith says, and swallows Lance back down into his mouth.

There's no more holding back. Keith blows Lance as if his life depended on it. He moves quickly, sucking, fist tight around whatever his mouth doesn't cover. He fondles Lance's balls with his free hand, squeezing gently. It doesn't take long to work Lance up to an explosive — and loud, god, there's no way someone didn't hear that — finish.

Lance shoots into Keith's mouth in weak spurts, moaning and thrusting erratically. Keith eagerly takes it all, pressing his tongue against the slit so he can feel it spread out onto his tongue, coating it, pulsing hard into his mouth.

Lance's cum is a little bitter, a little salty. It feels good on his tongue. Keith swallows it down but the taste lingers even after he pulls off Lance's softening cock with a wet pop.

Coming down off his high, Lance looks terribly pleased. He lets out a heavy contented sigh, and collapses back onto the bed. "Man! You really know what to do with that thing."

Keith crawls up Lance's body and settles in beside him. He's still painfully hard — he lightly strokes himself just to take the edge off. "Yeah," he says. Lance's shitty personality is infectious. Makes it hard not to gloat when given the opportunity. "I'm good at the things I do."

"Wish I could've enjoyed it for longer. I skipped breakfast and jacked off all morning. I thought it would help but it didn't," Lance mumbles.

Keith rolls his eyes. "Lance, stop worrying about it. I don't care at all. Your dick isn't gone because I sucked it once. I'll suck it again. It doesn't matter."

Lance's moodiness is gone in an instant. He sits up suddenly and brightly says, "Okay. Let me do you."

He's already on his way down and Keith has to shoot out a hand to stop him. "Wait," Keith says.

Lance looks up, confused, Keith's palm awkwardly plastered to his forehead. "What?"

"Er," Keith says, unsure of what to say. He withdraws his hand. "Just hold on with that."

"Why? You don't want me to suck your dick?"

Keith hesitates. He feels his veneer of magnanimity crack. "I don't know," he says.

"What? Why not?"

"Well, um." Keith shifts self-consciously, blocking Lance with his legs. "It's just that I'm not sure that... with how little experience you have..."

God, is Lance fucking pouting? "I thought you said that didn't matter," he complains.

"Okay, but, well, a bad blowjob is sort of different. A bad handjob or whatever doesn't have teeth."

Lance makes a look like he's smelled something rotten. "I'm not going to bite your dick off."

"Look, it's harder than you'd think to remember to cover your teeth all the time and you've never done it before. You're going to scrape up my dick, probably."

"Who says I've never —"

"Lance, literally no one in the universe would let you suck their dick."

"YOU would!"

"Uh, no, actually, I wo—"

Keith's protests are cut short when Lance suddenly turns the tables and presses him down onto the bed, straddling his waist. The sensation of Lance's bony ass grinding down onto his cock makes him cant up his hips and nearly whimper — he's got no clue how Lance manages to stay composed. "Yeah, you're gonna let me suck your god damn dick," Lance says, a finger brandished right in Keith's face. He presses it directly against Keith's forehead, holding him down. "I'm gonna suck your god damn dick and I'll be good at it and you'll like it."

Keith stares up with wide eyes. What he really wants is to just fuck Lance. Wants to spread his thighs and push into him and fuck him, hear every sound in his throat as he cracks —

Keith sighs. He's too horny for this. "Okay, fine. But don't bite my dick."

"I'm not gonna bite your dick," Lance insists.

"Whatever." Keith shoves Lance off of him, sits up and swings his legs over the side of the bed. "Okay, go kneel on the floor."

Thankfully, Lance is at least quick to comply. He scrambles off the bed and drops to his knees between Keith's thighs, hands braced gingerly against them. Keith's skin tingles under his warm fingers. "All right, so do I just —"

"Just be careful," Keith says. "Make sure your lips are over your teeth, and don't try to take too much at once. You'll make yourself sick."

"Huh? Oh, haha, I don't even have a gag reflex," Lance says, looking very pleased with himself.

"W-what?" Keith responds. "Did you... practice?"

Lance shrugs. "No. I've just never had one."

"Oh," Keith says. He wets his lips.

"Okay, well, here goes," Lance says. He takes a deep breath, like he's trying to suck in all of the air he'll ever need for the rest of his life, and wraps his lips around Keith's cock.

Keith releases a sigh as he feels the warmth envelope him. Lance is very timid at first, obviously self-conscious — he keeps looking up into Keith's face for sign that he's fucked up. "Good," Keith says, encouraging. "That's good. Just like that."

Lance starts to move in earnest. He steadies himself with a hand at the base of Keith's cock and sinks down, pulls back — he holds the head of it in his mouth and sucks, pressing his tongue up against Keith's frenulum. Keith's thighs spread, and he pushes up, eager.

Emboldened by the positive reception, Lance pulls Keith's cock further and further into his mouth each time he moves. Keith draws a sharp breath as his cock hits the back of Lance's throat, and then he's really pushing down into it, into the tight muscle of his throat.

It looks almost as good as it feels. Lance's eyes are red and watering, his lips flush with the base of Keith's cock. Keith reaches down to hold Lance by the back of his head, applying only gentle pressure. He relents control when Lance starts to pull back to the tip, curls his fingers into Lance's short hair as he sinks back down again just as deep.

And then Lance starts to swallow.

"Oh god," Keith ekes out. The sensation of Lance's throat rippling and squeezing down on his cock shoots through him and makes his eyes roll up into his head — he falters and falls back, catching himself on his elbows. Keith pushes up into Lance's mouth as he tries to move like that, pulling Keith in and out of his throat while he swallows.

As good as it feels, Lance can't keep it up for long. He suddenly draws back, pulls the whole length out and starts to sputter, coughing and pawing at his own neck. "Oh man, that really hurts," he complains, swallowing down his own spit to try to soothe his throat. "I feel so sore. Man. Oh man." He has to rub the moisture away from his eyes.

Keith feels like he's going explode. He can barely think straight. He roughly pulls Lance up from the floor, shoves him back down onto the bed and kisses him harshly. The mint taste is long gone.

Lance breaks away. "Wait, but I didn't finish —"

"I'm not gonna finish," Keith says.

Lance looks confused. "You're not gonna come in my mouth?"

"No," Keith says. "I'm going to fuck you."

Lance pales. "O-oh," he says. "Uh, but my blowjob was good, right?"

"Yeah, it was good. Made me want to fuck you," Keith pointedly responds, and reaches down between Lance's legs. Lance is already well on his way to getting hard again.

But when Keith's hand starts to wander down beneath Lance's balls, Lance suddenly seizes up and grabs Keith's arm. "Wait wait, hold on, baby, wait —"

"Don't call me baby," Keith hastily interjects, but he doesn't move from where he's held.

Lance doesn't seem to know what to say, so Keith just answers his obvious concerns anyway. "Don't worry, it's not gonna hurt. I mean, it might, but not as much as you're probably imagining, because I'm gonna do it properly."

"'Properly'?"

"Yeah. I promise I'll make it good for you. I'll be so patient with you you'll be begging me to give it to you. Don't worry about it." When Lance still looks skeptical, Keith sighs. "Look, just try it. If you don't like it, I'll stop."

Lance's eyes flutter shut. "I —"

"I want to be inside you so bad," Keith says, dragging his tongue up Lance's throat. He crests over his chin and kisses his lips. "God, you look sexy."

"Keith —"

"Just the tip? Come on, baby."

"Oh, you get to call me baby but I don't? That isn't fair."

Keith feels his insides curdling when he realizes what he just said. "This is all your fault," he complains. "You make me like this."

Lance laughs and shields his face with his hands. It's aggravatingly infectious. Eventually, Keith sits back, giving Lance space to breathe. "Do you want to stop?" he asks.

Lance lets his arms fall back onto the bed. "Just — just tell me what you're gonna do."

"Uh. I'm gonna finger you, and then I'll put my dick in," Keith says, palming himself. "It's not that complicated."

"In my butt?" Lance says. "Is that really gonna feel good? Like, for me?"

"What, have you never fingered your own ass before?"

Lance looks up at Keith like he's weird. "Uh, no. I poop from there."

"Sometimes it seems like you poop from your mouth too and you liked having my cock in there well enough."

Lance groans. Keith rolls his eyes. "You did know that's what I was gonna do, right? You prepared for it, right?" Keith asks. "Like... you at least washed well."

"... Yeah, I washed it out. And skipped dinner and breakfast."

"Okay, then it's going to be fine. If it sucks, I'll stop. All right?"

"All right," Lance agrees and draws a deep breath. "I'll do it. You can do it."

Lance looks particularly surprised when, instead of pushing on, Keith suddenly gets up off of the bed entirely. "Hold on a second," Keith says.

"What are you doing?" Lance asks, looking on with curiosity as Keith moves to rummage around in his small accumulation of belongings. When Keith turns around, his expression turns to one of disbelief. "You brought lube and condoms to fight the Galra Empire?"

Keith looks down at his hands and suddenly feels a little bit ridiculous. "Well... I mean... you never know, right?"

Lance looks like he's had a revelation. "Now that you mention it, maybe I should've thought of that. I mean, what if Allura finally comes around to my charms? Who knows what kind of weird alien disea—"

"Okay that's more than enough of whatever you're going on about," Keith says, quickly making his way back over to the bed. He shoves Lance over, climbs astride him and declares, "It's time to fuck."

Lance's visible nerves are back in no time flat. "So... what do I do?"

"Uh, nothing right now," Keith says, settling in alongside Lance's body. "Here, move your leg up like this so I can get in there."

Lance does as he's instructed, but tenses up when Keith reaches down to probe against the entrance to his ass. He doesn't do anything yet — he just slides his finger slowly and gently against Lance, massaging, waiting for him to relax. "I'm just gonna put one in at first. It'll be easy. Okay?"

"Okay," Lance agrees. He's holding onto Keith's forearm with a too-tight grip, his cheek against the crook of Keith's neck. He stares down between them, transfixed. "Do it."

"I gotta, like, lube it," Keith says, groping for the bottle of lube he brought over and then carelessly discarded on the bed. He picks it up, fumbles with the cap and tries to dispense a small amount onto his finger.

He squeezes too hard and the bottle practically explodes.

Lande recoils and yelps as cold lubricant sprays onto his body. Keith stares down at his hand in shock. It — as well as everything else around them — is covered in lube. "Shit," he mumbles.

"That's what you get for buying the cheap stuff," Lance says, trying to maintain levity, as if his face isn't plastered with horror. It's sort of a disaster.

"Don't worry, it's fine," Keith insists. The bottle slips from his hand the moment he moves because, obviously, it is covered in lube. "I'm not gonna waste it, it's fine."

Keith reaches down and he... he wipes his hand off on his own dick, which has been losing some of its staying power anyway. Lance flinches when Keith next reaches over to smear the rest of it — huge, excessive globs of lube — into the crack of his ass. It becomes very, very slippery down there. Keith's fingers just slide around.

"It's so cold," Lance complains, shivering. "God, it's so slimy, it feels like — like you blew your nose in my ass —"

Keith grimaces in disgust. "That's so gross. Why did you say that out loud? That's so gross."

"You're not the one with the god damn snot ass! Don't complain to me about making this gross! You did this to me!"

"I hate this and I hate you," Keith says, and shoves a finger up into Lance's ass.

However gross the horrible snot ass disaster may have been, it certainly provides for ample lubrication for Keith's excursions. His finger slides in so easily he wonders if Lance can even feel it up there.

"Oh, that's weird. That feels weird," Lance says.

"What kind of weird?" Keith asks. He slowly drags his finger out and then back in — or tries to do it as slowly as he can manage, anyway. There's so little friction it just kind of pops out.

"I dunno. It's not bad. It's not really good either. I don't know."

One finger is so easy that Keith decides to try just going straight up to two. He adds the second digit and that slides in just as readily, though he's starting to feel the resistance from the muscle. He scissors out, pushes in.

"Oh," Lance says.

"Oh?" Keith repeats. He starts to build up a gentle rhythm, driving his fingers in and out.

Lance screws up his face in concentration. "It's like... it's interesting. I kinda feel... kinda..."

"Kinda," Keith says.

"Kinda," Lance says. Keith starts to put a little bit of force behind his fingers. Lance breathes out shakily, and starts talking. "Who were you even doing this with back at school, anyway? I don't remember you ever having a boyfriend."

Keith pauses for a moment. "You don't know about everything I ever did while we were classmates."

"I sure tried to — I mean —" Lance stops himself when he realizes there's no way to make what he just said any less weird. Keith decides to let it go. "Come on? Who was it? Was he in our class? Would I know him? Them?"

Keith sighs, and does his best to maintain his patience. He resumes moving his fingers, increasing his intensity — he twists his wrist, puts his arm into it. "Lance, I don't want to talk about every guy I've ever fucked while I'm knuckle-deep in your ass."

"Whoa," Lance says, his face brightening with mirth. "Have there been that many of them?"

Keith is actually starting to feel embarrassed. "N-no, I haven't — I'm not..."

"Haha, I can't believe Keith is a sllllllllllllohhh my god —"

Keith adopts a smug expression as he hooks his fingers up, dragging them against the upper wall inside of Lance's body. It immediately puts Lance off that aggravating train of thought. "There we go," he says.

Or, not quite. "Slut. Not stopping me from getting that one out there," Lance chokes out.

Keith huffs and adds a third finger out of spite. They're both definitely starting to feel the stretch now — Lance's muscle strains around Keith's fingers, breath seizing in his throat, raised leg trembling. Lance digs his nails into Keith's shoulder. His cock leaks more and more fluid each time Keith presses his fingers hard against his prostate. "That feel good?" Keith asks.

Apparently so. "Yeah. Yeah. I want — I want it," Lance answers, panting and clawing at Keith's skin. "I want to — fuck, Keith — put it in, I —"

Oh, god, finally. Keith withdraws his fingers in a haste the moment he hears the request, and twists himself to retrieve the condom from where he'd left it.

There's just one problem.

"Oh... shit..."

"What?" Lance demands. Now he's the impatient one.

"I just realized I put all this lube on my dick before I actually put the condom on?"

Lance stares for a moment, before he collapses flat onto his back and covers his face with his hands. "This is soooo bad."

"No, it's fine, I just —" Keith grimaces and looks down at his hand and erection in dismay. "I'll just... get as much as I can off with my hand and then..."

Lance watches with a look of exhaustion as Keith tries to squeeze all of the lube on his dick back onto his hand. Then, with the condom packet between his teeth, he grabs the blanket with his non-lubricated hand and begins to wipe the excess lube off his own dick.

"It's bad," Lance says.

"No, it's perfectly fine, and nothing is gonna go wrong, I swear," Keith insists. He tears the condom open, rolls it down his cock, and then wipes the lube on his hand off on it. He holds his palms up and gestures. "See? Look, I fixed it."

Lance sighs dramatically and pulls himself up to sit. "Okay, so now wh—"

Keith forcefully interrupts Lance's dry whinging by pushing him down onto the bed and shoving his tongue into his mouth. They slide against each other, cocks trapped between the heat of their bodies, a mess of teeth and hands that don't seem to know where to go. Keith breaks away when he's got Lance thorough shut up, draws back to hook an arm under one of his legs and moves it over his shoulder. It leaves Lance open and spread to him, and he presses forward, readies himself to —

"You're crushing me into a pretzel," Lance bitches.

Oh, now Keith is just pissed off. "Then do you want to do a different position?" Keith snaps, tone sharp. He's getting so impatient and aggravated. His balls are killing him. He's been waiting so long for this he can't take it anymore. How long has he been sitting on this boner? Ten thousand years? Priapus would weep.

Lance sniffs in offense. "You say that like I was complaining. I wasn't complaining. It was just an observation."

"Well, try to make your observations sound less like you're complaining."

"Why don't you try to stop being a nag and fuck me instead."

"A nag? Are you even listening to the words coming out of your m—"

Lance reaches between them, takes Keith's cock and forces it against his own ass.

Keith chokes as he feels himself breach the tight ring of muscle. He has to catch his weight on his hands, splayed out over the bed — he stares down with shock as Lance squirms beneath him, hooks his other heel around the small of Keith's back and presses —

Keith bears down and pushes in. It's slick and easy with so much lube, but Lance doesn't feel any less tight and hot around him. He almost can't see straight.

"Oh, shit," Lance says, his hand against Keith's stomach, just barely holding him back from the limit. "It feels really — it feels really big, I —"

"It gets easier," Keith says, short of breath. He wants to move so badly — he can feel the light fluttering of muscle around the head of his cock, the heat of Lance's body. This time, he's the one shaking. "Just relax."

"I can't relax. I'm getting fucked in the ass," Lance says, staring between his own legs. "I'm getting fucked in the ass."

Keith can't hold himself any longer. He pushes past Lance's weak shielding and buries himself to the hilt, breathing raggedly. Lance cries out as he's filled, hand shooting to dig into Keith's shoulder, scrambling, scraping.

"Oh god, you feel good," Keith says, rolling his hips in a shallow motion. Lance scratches his skin so hard it breaks. The pain doesn't even register.

"Do it. Do it. Just do it —"

Keith is more than glad to comply. He shifts Lance's other leg over his shoulder and presses him down, thrusts hard, mashes their lips together — Lance gasps against his mouth as Keith draws back to the tip, and then slams himself back in with a force he hadn't intended but has no hope of controlling any longer.

It was worth the wait. Lance feels so tight around him it's almost painful — Keith can feel every rapid coursing pulse of blood through both of their bodies as he moves. The sense of friction still seems immense even with the layer between them and the overabundance of lube. It feels like Lance's body is sucking him in and doesn't want to let go.

Keith pulls back only for better vantage. He keeps Lance's knees pressed down while he thrusts, watching himself push deep inside — he can see how Lance is squeezing him, constricting, spasming with the strain of being stretched so far past his limit. And Lance is so hard beneath him, leaking all over himself —

Lance looks best like this, Keith thinks. He's a complete mess. He's biting down onto his own fingers hard enough to leave deep marks, face flush, eyes red and out of focus — Keith wants to kiss him so badly so he does, and Lance's lips are trembling. Every time Keith pumps into him he draws out something desperate from Lance's throat that makes it a little more difficult to keep steady.

In what Lance probably parses as an act of mercy, Keith reaches down to take Lance's cock into his fist and starts to stroke him in time with his thrusts. It doesn't take very long to bring Lance close to the edge, whining and bucking his hips up into Keith's hand.

"Oh fuck, oh fuck, fuck, I'm, Keith, fuck," Lance stammers, delirious.

And then Keith lets go, stills himself inside of Lance's body. Lance is inconsolable — his immediate instinct is to reach down between his own legs, try to finish himself off, but Keith takes both his arms by the wrists and pins them above his head. Lance lies like that stunned, chest heaving, his thighs splayed out around where they're joined, and he whimpers, "What?"

"Don't touch yourself," Keith says.

"I'm, I'm so close, I — I'm gonna —"

"Wait for it." Keith leans down and presses his lips to Lance's, tender, waiting it out even in spite of his own urgency. He's not sure he's ever felt his heart beat this fast.

"I can't," Lance gasps, turning his head to the side. "I'm going to die."

Keith pulls out and Lance practically sobs. "You're not going to die," he says, and flips Lance onto his stomach.

He's back inside of Lance in an instant. Angled like this, he can press the head of his cock directly against Lance's prostate with every thrust. Lance is all but weeping, his shaking hands balled into fists into the fabric of the pillow. Keith can tell that he's keeping Lance just on the tortuous precipice of release, close but so far.

Keith shifts Lance so that his body is propped up by his own spread knees, and keeps a tight grip onto his hips. Keith's fingers dig into the flesh of Lance's ass — what little is there — and he slaps him, lightly but hard enough to earn a startled yelp.

"Please," Lance begs, his voice hoarse. "Please just let me... oh my god."

Keith is reaching his own limit much more quickly than he expected. He's so keyed up, and Lance's body feels so good, and it's been a while anyway, so maybe it's not so surprising. He decides to take pity on Lance and he reaches down and grips him and jerks him hard, pumps over the head of his cock with a tight fist, two, three times, until Lance is coming into his hand with a strangled shout.

The sensation of Lance's orgasm rippling through his body brings Keith over the edge. He thrusts erratically as he feels Lance's muscle spasm around him, and he lets go, lets all of that pent up frustration and denial and anger and annoyance build to a crest and spill over in a blinding rush that for a moment makes it all seem so very, very worth it.

It takes a while for Keith to even come back to his senses. He's on his back beside Lance, breathing heavily. He feels his own sweat acutely now, feels sticky and wasted and beyond exhausted. His arms feel weak when he sits up and moves to discard the rubber.

When Keith staggers back to bed, Lance pulls him down and he just collapses. He lets himself lie there, face down in the sheets, and sighs. "Nice."

Lance has actual tears in his eyes. He wipes them away, his fingers still shaking. "Oh my god," he mumbles in a small voice.

Keith turns his head so he can look at Lance. Lance looks like he's been hit by a truck. "See. Even with all the setbacks, we managed to get through it."

"I don't think I did, Keith. I think I actually died," Lance says. He's staring at the ceiling like he can see right through it.

"You aren't dead."

"Listen, you don't even know. You have no idea. I fully believe I passed on to the next life, man," Lance declares. "But now I'm back and stronger than ever."

Keith rolls onto his side and props himself up on an elbow. "What, was hell full?"

"I was reborn a new man, Keith." He almost sounds reverent. "A real man. I'm... I'm not a virgin!"

Keith raises his eyebrows. "Well... I guess," he says. "But, I mean, I'm a guy. Losing your guy virginity is easy. You're still a girl virgin, which is all anybody cares about anyway."

And just like that, all of the wonder goes out from Lance's eyes. It's like watching a balloon deflate, horrible whining sound and all. "Oh," he says.

It almost makes Keith feel bad. "Uh, cheer up, dude. I'm sure, uhh..." He's really not sure that's ever going to happen, so he just sort of lets that weak statement peter out with as much of a non-ending as it deserves.

"Don't think this changes anything between us," Lance says, petulant to the end. "We're still rivals, Keith. Bitter enemies. Nemesises."

Well, this has escalated. "Nemeses," Keith says.

"What?"

"That's the plural," Keith says. "Nemeses. Like, you know, parentheses... analyses... hypotheses..."

"What are you even talking about?"

"... Nevermind. So, you don't want to do this again?"

Lance replies very hastily. "Oh no I do. Definitely. As often as possible," he says. "But don't let that get to your head. Don't think that I like you or anything."

Keith rolls his eyes. What a child. "All right, Lance. Whatever you say."

"Okay. Good. Just so there's no confusion," Lance says. He then quite hastily gets up and begins gathering his clothing, which he throws on with little care for what-side-out. "Now I have to wash all of this lube out of my ass, aaand, take a dump. Bye."

"... Bye," Keith says, just as the doors to his room are sliding shut behind that absolute nightmare.

Keith sighs, and does his best to make peace with how horrible his decisions are.