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Keith lay starfished on his bed, one leg dangling off the edge into the cold. His blankets tangled around half of him, leaving him simultaneously overheated and stiff with the cold of the room. He had no idea what time it was, but he had a feeling he’d been up for hours staring at the ceiling. It wasn’t his fault that his mind wandered when it got this late into the night. There was something about the darkness and solitude that forced his brain into overdrive to keep him company. During the day he was almost always in some daze of an adrenaline rush, strategizing and fighting for the universe and what not. It almost felt like his body didn’t know what to do without the overstimulation.
Even if his body didn’t want to sleep, Keith absolutely did. His mind was exhausted and ached for the tranquility of nonexistence. Sleep was bliss.
He did have a strategy that helped him calm himself, but Keith felt absolutely pathetic about it. He tried so very hard to sleep without it, and managed on most nights. But there were just some nights where his mind wouldn’t stop racing and he felt so pathetically tired and cold and lonely. He could blame it all on the exhaustion, heavy on his chest.
He reached for his second pillow, pulling it close and laying it vertically. Keith took a moment to sigh insufferably at himself. He shuffled closer until his chest was pressed against the pillow, stiff yet soft. His head reached the top of the pillow, forehead pressed at the short edge. It felt like he was pressed up against another body, somewhat. It wasn’t like he had any experience to compare it to.
Lance would be so weirded out if he ever found out Keith did this. Blessedly, Lance did not have the ability to read Keith’s mind, so he would (hopefully) never know that Keith pretended to cuddle him using a pillow in lieu of a lullaby. Keith couldn’t help it when he was aching for comfort, willing to fantasize about his stupid crush holding him as he fell asleep. In any case, it was better he did this than continuing to lay in bed until three in the morning and overthinking. Thinking about every glance, every interaction, every tiny potential indication of interest, which he always realized was a fruitless venture when he came to his senses in the morning. False hope would get him nowhere.
He gingerly reached a hand out, laying it on Pillow Lance’s chest. God, it was so cold, unrealistically cold. Unless Lance was a vampire, but Keith was fairly certain he wasn’t. He took a short break from his fluffy fantasy to hold the frigid pillow tight to his chest, rubbing it up and down to try and warm it up. Pathetic as it was, he wanted to make this situation as believable as possible for maximum comfort.
He lay it back down after proper treatment, setting it up properly again and fluffing it up a little. His fake man needed a firm chest. He lay his hand back on it, sighing softly at the humane warmth this time. He buried his nose into the top, where Lance’s shoulder would be, breathing in deep. God, he needed to get some of Lance’s cologne to spray on his pillow. No, no, what the hell, that was crossing the line. As if this wasn’t creepy enough.
But it really wasn’t that hard to believe that Lance could, like, possibly like him back, right? Hell, he remembered Keith that first day when they rescued Shiro! Keith had barely recalled his existence at the time, too wound up with his own problems, but Lance always made a point of getting his attention after that. All in the name of competition, sure, but that could just be a front for some obsession with Keith, right? Maybe he was in his room cuddling his own fake Keith right at this moment. No, shut up Keith, that’s a stretch.
He groaned into the pillow, then took in a deep breath to calm himself. No more overanalyzing, it was time to sleep. He massaged his fingers in little circles over fake Lance’s chest, soft and firm, imagining the way Lance would hum in content. He could almost feel a heartbeat, thudding softly in sync with his own, their breaths matching. His own chest felt so warm. Lance was like hot chocolate on a freezing day, spreading rich warmth from his core to every extremity. He always knew just what to say to lighten the mood, to put a smile on everyone’s face, even if he could be a nuisance. He tried to envision what Lance might say as he lay with Keith, soft and sleepy, but his mind came up blank.
Probably something cheesy and flirty that would make Keith’s heart explode out his chest.
He smiled softly into Lance’s shoulder, remembering the conversation at dinner earlier. Pidge and Hunk were discussing the scientific inaccuracies of Star Wars, and Lance had enlisted himself as full-time translator for Keith. Keith, who had never seen a single Star War in his life. Lance spent the entire meal explaining every reference to him in depth, eager to allow him in on the conversation. He was certain that Allura and Coran were lost as well, but it seemed Lance only wanted to ensure that Keith didn’t feel left out. He always did things like this, little gestures that seemed to show that he cared about Keith in particular. Keith could not give a flying fuck about Star Wars, but the fact that Lance wanted him to understand the discussion made him the most eager listener. Granted, he didn’t retain a single thing, aside from the existence of one character who apparently wore a fursuit.
“Thank you,” Keith whispered to Pillow Lance. He should probably get around to thanking Real Lance, a feat he had yet to accomplish. Ah well, they had the rest of their lives working together as defenders of the universe for that.
He continued to lazily run his fingers over Lance’s chest, twitching slightly, his own chest calm and heavy with exhaustion. He could feel the weight of the day crushing him, trying to push him under, but there was still some energy thrumming under his skin.
He shifted slightly so that his lower half slotted against Lance, one leg thrown over him. His knee brushed the bottom of the pillow, so he shifted so as not to feel the lower edge. Lance was tall and lanky and his legs would stretch much further. He very slowly moved his hips against the pillow, trying to rub off his extra energy.
This wasn’t creepy, right? Masturbation was healthy and normal. Fantasies were healthy and normal.
He slowly built up a soft rhythm, rutting against the pillow and keeping his nose buried in the shoulder. In a few minutes his thighs started to ache, and he groaned in frustration.
He could almost hear Lance comforting him, breaking through his sleepy horny haze. Soft comforting words, peppering kisses over his face. He reached a hand down into his pants and imagined it wasn’t his own.
He rubbed himself slowly, teasingly, the way Lance absolutely would. “Please,” he whispered quietly, and his hand started to pick up the pace, already wet with precum. He spit into his own hand to make the glide smoother and went back to work, rubbing himself desperately.
”I wanna hear you.” He shifted so that he lay on top of Lance, biting at his chest. ”Let me hear the way I make you sound.” Of course he wanted that, always the narcissist. Keith allowed himself a small moan, hand moving roughly. His other hand pawed at Lance, trying to find his bulge.
“I’m gonna cum,” he announced, and then let himself release on Lance, moaning loudly. It swept through his body, thoroughly draining him and leaving warmth in its wake. He lay there for a few moments, taking staggered breaths, face still buried deep in the pillow.
”You’re so damn loud, Keith.” There was jest in his voice, but he blushed nonetheless. The way his name rolled off his tongue got his heart twisting all sorts of ways. He had trouble picturing Lance sounding soft and sleepy, something he’d never quite heard, but he was sure it’d be just as entrancing as the rest of him.
He finally let the waves of sleep pull him under, mind at ease with soft fantasies.