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They all have their scars. Playing a major part in a war that spans countless galaxies kind of makes it inevitable in the end. There would always be casualties. Wins and losses and the bruises and wounds that came with them both. However, of them all there is one whom carries the most.
No one is quite sure of just what Kuro went through in the hands of the galra, but it takes nothing but a pair of eyes to know that it was far from pleasant. Even Lance was still learning all that made the clone who he was and he was the closest anyone had ever gotten to Kuro. There are scars there that came from joining Voltron, of course, but they are few among the many the enemy has caused.
Kuro never complained about the pain. He took all of his injuries in stride, to the point where Lance insisted on looking him over after every battle. He’d drawn the line when he’d found out Kuro had broken a rib and had sat through a debriefing instead of seeking medical attention.
The cause was the torture he’d endured to become what he was. Pain meant little to Kuro when it was he who had been born into it. He still got that troubled look on his face whenever Lance grew quiet in the face of his past. Confused as to why it saddened the other male. They were still working on his understanding of normal emotions.
Still, twisted as it was there was a part of Lance that went hot in places when faced with the marks that climbed Kuro’s skin. He was so much paler than Lance, the lines were far more expressive. Stark whites and light pinks criss crossed one another, fading reds occasionally dotting the long expanse of muscles. All of Lance’s scars were a variation of pinks--and he had far less than the other male’s as well.
He always felt rather guilty when the sight of his own sent Kuro into a mix of angered sadness.
Everyone on the team knew that Kuro was protective of him. They’d seen him rip apart enough people to know. It was he who insisted on treating Lance’s wounds. If a healing pod was needed he would escort--or carry, as was often the case--him personally to make sure Lance was alright. Despite the fact that the sight of the pods still made Kuro go rather pale and feral around the eyes he would stay and wait for the cycle to finish. He was stubborn, just like Lance.
Still, it was Lance that craved the roughness that came out in only two places. Their room and the training deck. Lance had never liked being thrown around more than when it was Kuro doing so.
It’d taken a while for the clone to warm up to the idea, cautious as he was of accidentally making a mistake. It wasn’t until Lance had gone limp beneath him, a moan stuttering past the arm wrapped around his throat that Kuro had understood what it was that his boyfriend truly wanted.
That night he’d pinned Lance beneath him, clawed digits making quick work of the work out pants the male had worn. He’d torn the back open, too impatient to remove them fully. Spurred on by the choked sound Lance had let out he’d made quick work of preparing his boyfriend’s ass.
Kuro had sunk into tight warmth with a soft hiss, Lance wiggling beneath him. It wasn’t until he’d wrapped a metal hand around the back of his neck, the clawed tips of his fingers digging ever so lightly into Lance’s neck that his boyfriend had relaxed.
When Lance had orgasmed it had been with a soft wounded sound, staining the inside of his pants. He’d been blissed out and pleased when Kuro had taken him into his arms. He’d practically purred when the clone had taken his tongue to the small beads of blood his claws had created.
Kuro had only gotten more adventurous from there.
He learned that Lance didn’t mind being shut up with a cock in his mouth. That he would never orgasm harder than when Kuro’s hand was at his throat, his other held tight over Lance’s mouth and nose while his cock moved relentlessly against his boyfriend’s prostate. He learned that Lance liked praise, that he liked being called a good boy most of all and he’d become particularly malleable during those moments. He learned that rope had more than one use and that those blue eyes might be gorgeous on a regular day but they were even more beautiful when wet with tears. He learned that sometimes hiding those eyes away could be just as satisfying, and that his paladin had a particularly possessive and exhibitionistic streak.
Lance was more than willing to help him become an expert in these things.
“You look pretty like that,” Kuro murmured, tracing the edges of the ball gag placed between Lance’s lips. “Almost as pretty as you do when that mouth is between my legs.” His hand slid down the other male’s chest, claws teasing faint pink lines into tan flesh. They’d talked about this extensively, had set boundaries and safe words and everything that could possibly put Kuro’s mind at ease.
Lance groaned as his hips shifted, thighs pressed flush to Kuro’s from his place seated on his boyfriend’s cock. It must have been torture given how worked up he was. Kuro nearly purred. “You can move now, pet. Work those hips for me and I might let you come.”
The eyes that stared back at him as narrow hips lifted were already teary and desperate. Kuro gave him a few moments to work himself on his cock before he made the first red line. Lance stiffened and for a long moment the clone worried that this wasn’t what he wanted after all--and then a long moan escaped around the gag.
“Good boy,” he murmured, when Lance had started moving once again. Another line was added to the other side of his boyfriend’s chest. They were small, with small beads of blood. It scared Kuro a bit to see himself make Lance bleed after his history, but they’d talked about this a lot and he knew that it would never escalate past this. He would sooner die than let that happen. Would sooner cut his own arm off all over again than hurt Lance more than had been asked for.
Every line his claws cut into the paladin made him shake, hips stuttering. They ran down Lance’s chest, over his hips and onto the softness of his thighs. Bite marks were added to his neck, a tongue lapping up sluggish blood. It was obvious that Lance wasn’t going to last long. He was always excited when he got something new, unable to last long in the face of new pleasure--or agony in this case.
Kuro shoved him down onto the mattress before he began fucking him in earnest. His nails bit into the paladin’s hips, both clawed and not. It took little more than a breathless order and a thrust against Lance’s prostate for his boyfriend to spill onto both their stomachs. Kuro wasn’t far behind, letting out a soft snarl that made Lance shiver. His demeanor softened when he pulled out, gentle as he pulled the other male into his lap. “Alright?” Kuro asked once the gag had been removed.
Lance gave a lazy grin. “Are you kidding? You get an A+.”