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Lance thinks he’s been holding himself together pretty well.
He doesn’t even know exactly how long it’s been since they came back to Earth. The days have been constant screaming blurs of chaos and violence, interspersed with a few brief hours of restless sleep plagued by equally chaotic, violent nightmares. They fought the Galra fleet, they fought Sendak, they fought whatever the hell it was that came after him, and Lance knows it’s only a matter of time before he has to leave his uncomfortable bed to fight whatever else wants to come get some.
Tonight, he wakes up sobbing. It’s not unusual, hasn’t been for a long time, but that doesn’t mean Lance likes it. It doesn’t help that his family is all sleeping down the hall, because as valiantly as they’d tried, there’s just too many of them to fit in this one tiny room.
So, he wakes up cold, alone, and already gasping for air, tears streaming all over his face from his fitful tossing and turning. Again.
Lance is used to handling this by now. It’s gotten worse since he came back to Earth, since he saw his family for the first time in... years. Since he finally, finally held them in his arms again, only to realize that none of them are safe just yet. Regardless, this panic is something he’s familiar with, so he crosses his legs under his thin sheet and buries his face in his hands so he can focus.
He takes deep breaths in and out, holding them and counting until he feels better, or maybe just dizzier. It’s an imprecise science.
Just as he’s starting to feel more human, less like he’s about to crawl out of his skin, the door to his room opens, and for the first time in far, far too long, Lance gets to make eye contact with Shiro.
He’d been smiling weakly when he opened the door, but when he sees the state Lance is in, the facade crumples. “Lance?”
“Oh, hey,” Lance says, and his voice wavers way too much to come even close to the casual tone he’d been hoping for. He clears his throat and tries again. “What brings you to this corner of the space hospital this time of night?”
Shiro sighs at that, then comes to sit on the edge of the bed. His presence is far from unwelcome; in fact, he could come an awful lot closer if he wanted, and Lance wouldn’t mind a bit.
They spent a lot of time drifting through empty space together. Shiro had rotated between the lions, partially for the change of scenery, but mostly because he’d needed to reconnect with all of them after everything that happened. Shiro has all of his clone’s memories, but he’d told Lance late one night in the red lion that they were all jumbled and hazy, many of them lacking context.
For the most part, Shiro was okay with that. He said slowly piecing those memories together like a puzzle gave him something to do on their long journey.
There were some memories, though, that he’d desperately wanted context for. The ones involving Lance, just Lance, late at night in their rooms or in empty hangars or dark hallways, the ones involving bare skin and heated breath and desperately whispered confessions. The ones where his clone had taken his buried adoration, his badly-concealed crush on Lance and done what Shiro never thought he could.
Lance had happily showed him the context. Several times. Red was not enthused.
So, they’ve been over that whole thing. Earth is in chaos, new threats are beaming themselves right down to the planet’s surface approximately once every five minutes, and they now have to teach their entire species how to deal with intergalactic purple cat assholes, but at the very least, Lance and Shiro know where they stand with each other.
That still doesn’t explain why Shiro’s here, though.
“Just... can’t sleep,” Shiro finally replies, dragging his left hand through his hair. “You know, I don’t think it counts as a space hospital if it’s on Earth.”
Lance gives him a genuinely unimpressed look. “Um, it’s on a spaceship? That makes it a space hospital.”
“Okay, fair,” Shiro chuckles, and Lance can’t help the way his stomach flutters.
It’s been so long since he heard him laugh, since they laughed together. Too long. Shiro seems to agree, because he turns more toward Lance and reaches toward him, carefully dragging his thumb down his flushed, still-wet cheek. His new prosthetic stays on his thigh, still and silent but so damn bright in the dark room.
“What’s wrong?”
Lance huffs a dry laugh at that. “What’s not wrong?”
“That’s a fair point too,” Shiro hums. He pauses, glancing at Lance and biting his lip, before he moves closer and pulls Lance into a slow, sweet kiss. They both sigh at the contact, then lean into it, already craving more of each other to make up for the days, weeks they’ve barely been able to see each other across the Garrison grounds.
“I missed you,” Shiro whispers between kisses, his voice shaking. “I missed you so much, I just—” His voice breaks, so Lance shuffles closer with a soothing sound, sliding his arms over Shiro’s broad shoulders. Shiro pulls him closer with one arm and nuzzles into him with a trembling sigh. After a long moment, he clears his throat and tries again. “I’ve been so worried this whole time. You guys fell out of our hands so many times, and every time, I thought...”
“We made it, Shiro,” Lance murmurs, opening his eyes so he can look at Shiro, noticing for the first time how pale, how exhausted he looks, and it’s not just the pallid light from his new prosthetic. “We’re all here now, and so is the coalition. We’re gonna be fine.”
Shiro swallows heavily and nods, but his lips are shaking the way they do when he’s biting back tears, so Lance kicks his sheet off, then swings one leg over Shiro’s hips, planting himself firmly in his lap before the man can make any comments about how he should be resting, he’s injured, blah blah. He rests his hands on Shiro’s cheeks, unconcerned for the stubble he finds there as he pulls him in for more kisses.
After a moment, Shiro relaxes for him, shifting his weight so they’re more solidly on the bed. Lance hums warmly, then tilts his head and fits their lips together better, but before he can distract them further, Shiro pulls back again, tears gathering in his eyes.
“When—when you and your sister crashed in the desert—”
“Don’t,” Lance hisses. “We both made it. We’re fine. Red came for me.”
Shiro nods, then breathes a shivering sigh, squeezing his eyes shut and resting his forehead against Lance’s. “I know, I know...” He swallows again, gathering Lance closer. He’s still not using his new prosthetic to touch him, but Lance doesn’t mention it for now. “I was just—you were so close, but I couldn’t—I-I couldn’t help you—”
Lance shushes him gently, dragging his thumbs over Shiro’s prickly cheeks. “It’s okay, baby,” he whispers, trying to ignore how much his own voice is shaking. “I’m okay, Veronica’s okay. We’re okay. You’re here with me now, yeah?”
“Right here,” Shiro murmurs weakly, like he’s still not sure he believes it.
Something about Shiro’s tone, how tiny and lost he sounds sets Lance off. He wants, needs to show Shiro just how present he is, how alive he is, how badly he missed him during all this.
Breathing a rough, breathy hum, Lance nods, then pulls Shiro into another kiss. This time, though, he parts his lips against Shiro’s and melts for him, earning a shaky sigh of his name. He doubts he could ever get tired of the way Shiro sounds like this, when they’re alone together.
Thankfully, Shiro leans into him, kissing him hard and deep, like he’s just as desperate for Lance’s touch as Lance is for his. When Shiro slips his tongue between his lips, Lance shivers for him, eagerly curling their tongues together, less concerned for technique than he is for just feeling. At least Shiro’s on the same page, focusing entirely on kissing Lance breathless, his warm hand wandering up and down the curve of his spine.
This is more contact than they’ve had in what feels like an eternity. It feels so nice to be held again, to feel so safe in Shiro’s lap, but right now, it’s not quite enough. Right now, Lance feels exhausted and raw, whittled to the bone by how hard they’ve had to fight, and he wants so badly to feel Shiro all over him.
Lance hums into him, then pulls back just enough to whip his shirt off over his head. He wants to get his point across, so he pushes Shiro back onto the bed, then sprawls across his broad chest so he can fall into another needy kiss. Shiro huffs a low laugh, but he makes himself as comfortable as he can across this narrow bed, running his fingers through soft brown hair as he nibbles on Lance’s lips.
When Lance kisses him harder, fucking his tongue between his lips and letting his hands wander, Shiro groans for him, his breath already coming faster, heavier. He’s always been so easy to rile up like this, always been the type to get handsy while he’s kissing, which Lance has always adored about him.
Just to drive the point home, he spreads his thighs wider and rocks them down against Shiro’s, happily drinking in the low, stuttering moan the man breathes into him. He does it again, and this time, Shiro arches up into him, their half-hard cocks rubbing together through their pants. Lance’s clothes might be flimsy, and half on the floor, but Shiro’s still wearing way too much full ass uniform for what Lance has in mind.
He sits up quickly, before Shiro can complain and pull him back for more kisses. He still pouts, but Lance just gives him a wide, flushed smile and rolls his hips again, and the sound Shiro makes at that has Lance’s eyelids fluttering.
Before he can get too distracted, Lance reaches down and hastily unbuttons Shiro’s jacket. “Dunno why you’re wearing the whole damn uniform,” he grumbles, sliding his hands under the lapels and down the plain white shirt underneath, humming at how nice Shiro’s muscles feel under the thin fabric. “You’re the defender of the damn universe, you could show up in sweatpants and no one would say anything.”
The way Shiro laughs has Lance grinning. It’s such a sweet, dorky sound, and one he’s missed so, so badly. “Would you take orders from a guy in sweats?”
Lance quirks an eyebrow at him, pointedly looking Shiro up and down and biting his lip. “If it was you? I’d do whatever you told me to.”
Shiro gives him a wide, crooked smile, his hand coming to rest on Lance’s bony hip. “I think you might be biased. You really like it when I wear sweatpants.”
“I resent that,” Lance huffs. “I mean, it’s true, but still.”
With another cute laugh, Shiro sits up again and shrugs out of his jacket, tossing it toward the end of the bed. He lets Lance peel his undershirt off too, smiling obligingly even as the shirt gets tossed clear across the room. Unable to resist that gorgeous face, Lance gathers Shiro close and kisses him again, sighing raggedly at the way Shiro’s warm, bare skin feels against his.
“Mm, hang on,” Shiro hums, giving Lance a few more brief kisses before pulling back and glancing around. There’s a soft, mechanical hum, and Lance looks down just in time to see Shiro’s new hand floating away from them, moving to rest on the windowsill.
Lance turns and raises his eyebrows curiously. Before he can ask, though, Shiro smiles soothingly and says, “I’m just not entirely used to it yet. Taking a break, that’s all.”
Satisfied with that for now, Lance nods, then leans down for more kisses, purring contently when Shiro wraps his arm around him and squeezes gently. He feels Shiro shifting under him, but he still squeaks in surprise when Shiro tilts his hips and rolls them over easily, leaning over him on his elbow with a playful grin.
Shiro leans down to catch his lips again, and this time Lance wastes no time deepening it, burying his hands in soft white hair and pulling him close. He wiggles around enough that he can wrap his legs around Shiro’s hips too, eagerly pulling the man down onto him, craving his warmth, the weight of his strong body on him. Shiro makes a soft, muffled sound at that, not exactly a moan but pretty damn close, and that just spurs Lance on.
As he sucks Shiro’s lower lip between his teeth, nibbling gently and breathing in the short sigh the man breathes at the feeling, Lance squirms under him until he can rock his hips up against Shiro’s again, grumbling when the thickness of the Garrison uniform pants keeps him from feeling Shiro as well as he’d like.
“You should lose the pants,” he manages between increasingly messier kisses, keeping the slow, even rhythm of his hips.
“Oh yeah?”
“Absolutely yes.” Lance leans up enough to kiss Shiro harder, slipping him his tongue and earning a shaky little groan. He drags his nails over the back of Shiro’s head, breathing a pleased sigh as the man presses him back into the sheets and grinds his hips against his. Lance gasps at the feeling, the sound immediately muffled in another sloppy kiss, which honestly just makes him harder. “Fuck, Shiro, I want you...”
Shiro exhales roughly, fucking his tongue between Lance’s lips for a moment longer before mumbling, “Is—is this really a good place for this?”
Lance finds it both impressive and frustrating that Shiro’s asking, given that he’s currently sucking on Lance’s tongue and thrusting his hips against his like he’s already fucking him. Which he’s not. Which, in Lance’s eyes, is a big problem.
“You heard me,” he grumbles, nipping at Shiro’s lips in retaliation. “C’mon, there’s lube or whatever in the crash cart.”
At that, Shiro leans up and raises his pale eyebrows, too far away for Lance to distract him with more kisses. “I’m pretty sure that’s a movie thing.”
“And I’m pretty sure I literally saw someone put it there like yesterday.”
“Okay, is it not locked?”
“Oh my god, Shiro,” Lance groans, squirming impatiently. “Does it matter? Even if it is, you’re the commanding officer of, like, the entire Garrison. You are that cart’s commanding officer. Go get the lube.”
“Alright, alright, jeez.” Shiro’s laughing, though, so Lance continues pouting loudly at him, even when the man leans down to kiss him again before sliding off the bed. He walks over to the cart sitting in the corner, then glances back at Lance, who points at the top drawer. Thankfully, that one’s not actually locked, because Lance is really trying to fuck Shiro right now, and he’ll pick a lock with a plasma bolt from his fucking bayard if he has to.
Once Shiro comes back, Lance sits up and scoots toward him, already moving to unfasten his wretched pants. Shiro drops the lube on the bed, then runs his fingers through Lance’s hair, humming encouragingly as he kicks his boots off.
Lance flashes him a grin before leaning in to press a hot, wet kiss to Shiro’s stomach. The bed is up too high for Lance to easily stuff Shiro’s cock in his mouth, which is disappointing, but he’ll just have to make up for it later. Instead, he nuzzles into the man’s stomach, pulling at his pants until they fall to the ground, leaving him in just his underwear.
Humming warmly, Lance curves his palm over Shiro’s arousal through his boxers and squeezes, biting his lip at the sweet, breathless sound that gets him.
He scoots back onto the bed and lies down, tugging Shiro closer by his underwear. Thankfully, Shiro follows him easily, crawling between Lance’s thighs and grinding his hips down against him, breathing a low, hot moan against Lance’s flushed lips.
As Shiro’s feeling around the sheets for the lube, Lance arches up against him and wiggles out of his loose hospital pants, chucking them carelessly toward the window, which earns him another pretty grin.
Unfortunately, Shiro takes another long second to fish the lube out from under Lance’s pillow, which means his asshole brain gets that whole second to wander. “Hey, speaking of commanding officers, what are you now? Captain? Commander? Admiral?”
Shiro stares at him for a moment, then barks a laugh, letting his head drop against Lance’s chest. “I don’t even know anymore,” he mumbles, idly nuzzling into Lance’s collarbone. “I’m pretty sure it’s changed ten times in the last two days alone.”
Lance hums at that, sliding his arms over Shiro’s shoulders with a sly grin. “Guess I should just call you ‘sir’ then, huh?”
That gets him another laugh. Shiro shakes his head and looks up at him again, giving Lance a warm, easy smile. “How about just Takashi?”
He’d said it so casually, but Lance’s eyes still widen. He wants to ask Shiro if he’s sure, because he remembers that even though it’s Shiro’s given name, in such an intimate context it still has some painful memories behind it. Before he can, though, Shiro leans in and kisses him again, easily licking the protest off of Lance’s thin lips.
“Please,” he whispers between kisses, and god, when he sounds like that, Lance can’t deny him anything. He nods quickly, already pulling him in for more kisses, almost desperate to show Shiro some comfort, some affection.
While Shiro is kissing him brainless, Lance reaches between them and palms the man’s cock again, humming roughly at how hard he is already. He slips his hand into Shiro’s boxers and pulls him out, using his free hand to do the same to himself before wrapping his fingers around both of them and rolling his hips up with a soft moan. Shiro drinks the sound in eagerly, his teeth catching Lance’s lower lip and nibbling gently.
With as nice as Shiro feels over him, his lips warm and needy against his, Lance can’t help but feel impatient. He lets go of their cocks, then reaches for the lube, tugging it out of Shiro’s hand so he can wrestle the cap open.
When they were floating through space, relearning each other’s bodies, they got pretty good at the whole one-armed sex thing. Lance makes quick work of slicking Shiro’s fingers for him, laughing when the man wrinkles his nose at how gooey the medical gel feels on his skin, but when Shiro gives him a crooked smile and leans in to press hot, open-mouthed kisses all up the column of Lance’s throat, all he can do is melt for him with a moan. Shiro breathes a low, needy sound at that, already reaching between them, unconcerned for the lube he leaves smeared down Lance’s stomach.
Lance kicks his boxers off, then spreads his thighs helpfully, although at this point he’s really just showing off his flexibility. Either way, it works, because Shiro groans roughly and shivers, his heavy cock twitching against Lance’s.
As impatient as they both are, it’s still been a long, difficult time since they were together last, so they take it slow. Lance can’t even complain about that, though, because as Shiro works one thick finger inside of him, he sinks his teeth into the crook of Lance’s neck and sucks a mark into his dark skin, and Lance can’t help the way he goes boneless and pliant for him.
Shiro’s always been so damn good with fingers. Even having just the one inside him is sending thrills of heat all through Lance, his breath hitching as Shiro buries his finger to the knuckle and crooks it gently, just enough pressure to have Lance’s breath catching. He doesn’t have to beg for more, though; Shiro’s apparently just as eager to be inside him, because he gives him a few deep, steady thrusts before working another finger into him, muffling a needy sound against Lance’s pulse when he squeezes tight around his fingers.
Lance barely manages to wait for a third before he starts begging. Shiro feels so good spreading and curling his fingers inside him, diligently opening him up for more, Lance can’t help but writhe under him, burying one hand in Shiro’s hair and tugging to encourage him.
“Shiro, c’mon,” he pleads breathlessly, rocking up onto his fingers. Shiro hums at that, but after a moment, Lance remembers what Shiro had said. He swallows heavily, then turns and nuzzles into Shiro’s ear as he whispers, “Please, Takashi...”
Shiro freezes over him, and for a moment, Lance worries that maybe it’s not good after all, maybe it’s too soon for new memories. When Shiro melts against him with a trembling, grateful moan, though, Lance immediately feels more confident. He drags his tongue up Shiro’s flushed ear and hums raggedly, squeezing tight around his fingers, and thankfully, he doesn’t have to beg again.
Carefully pulling his fingers out, Shiro sits up so he can slick his cock with the rest of the lube, his flushed lips parted around his heavy breath. He looks so gorgeous kneeling between Lance’s thighs, his eyes dark and wanting, his fist tight around his perfect cock. The view has Lance squirming.
“You okay?” Shiro asks, low and aroused but still so careful to make sure. Lance nods eagerly, wiggling his hips enticingly, and the way Shiro sighs at that just makes Lance that much needier.
As Shiro comes to lean over him again, balancing on his elbow, Lance reaches helpfully between them and steadies Shiro’s cock for him. Even after Shiro’s attentive preparation, he’s still tight, so it takes some coaxing, but once Shiro’s sliding inside of him, both of them melt for each other.
Shiro works himself deeper in slow, gentle thrusts, already shaking so beautifully, ducking to brush sweet kisses along Lance’s flushed cheek, under the corner of his eye, up to his temple. Lance wants to giggle at the feeling, maybe just a little love-drunk, but before he can, Shiro bottoms out inside him, and all he can do is arch up into him and gasp.
Normally, Shiro would give him time to adjust. Lance isn’t all that big a dude, and Shiro definitely is, so no matter how much Lance pouts and pleads with him, he’s always so careful with him.
Right now, though, Lance can’t even draw breath to complain, but thankfully, it doesn’t matter.
Shiro grinds into him for a moment, slow, gentle movements, but before long he’s pulling his hips back, breathing a shuddering moan at the feeling. Lance drags his nails down Shiro’s shoulder and gasps, “O-oh, fuck, ‘s good...”
“Okay?” God, only Shiro. Lance can’t get over how much he adores this man.
“Yes, yes,” he manages, nudging Shiro up until he can catch his lips again. Shiro breathes a low groan, but he kisses back eagerly, unconcerned for how sloppy, how needy it is. He fucks his tongue between Lance’s lips as he rocks his hips, filling him up in steady, gentle strokes, and god, Lance doesn’t know how he’s supposed to last like this.
Even so, he already wants more, wants to feel Shiro lose his cool too, so Lance squeezes around him and moans into him, easily earning himself a gasping, stuttering whimper. So perfect.
Shiro must be picking up on how badly Lance wants this, because he picks up his pace quickly. Every whine, every moan Lance breathes for him seems to spur Shiro on, and if this wasn’t a damn hospital in the middle of the night, Lance would gladly scream for Shiro if it would encourage him.
“You’re so tight,” Shiro gasps, nuzzling against Lance’s cheek. “Lance, fuck, you feel amazing...”
All Lance can really do is whine, arching down into Shiro’s next deep thrust. He shifts his hips and wraps his thighs higher around Shiro’s narrow waist, bending himself back further, and when Shiro rocks into him again, the thick head of his cock drags past Lance’s sweet spot in the most incredible way.
“Please, right there,” he begs, clinging to Shiro and squirming for him. “Harder, Takashi, c’mon.”
Shiro groans at that, shivering as he bucks his hips hard. He recovers quickly, though, and leans up on his elbow again, presumably so he can watch Lance. At this point, Lance is far too used to Shiro’s attention to be shy about it. Instead, he uses it to his advantage, biting his flushed lips and panting, hoping to entice Shiro into fucking him how they both want.
It doesn’t take much to convince Shiro. When he sees how much Lance is enjoying himself, squeezing tight around his cock and begging for more, Shiro breathes a low, rumbling moan, then obliges him.
He spreads his knees in the sheets and starts thrusting harder, burying himself deep and grinding every time he bottoms out, until finally he’s all but rutting into Lance, fucking him in deep, insistent snaps of his hips, hard enough that Lance’s eyes roll shut, but still so damn slow.
Maybe that’s for the better, though. With every needy thrust, Lance feels himself getting closer and closer, his breathy sounds going high and whiny. Shiro leans down to quiet him with his lips, kissing him desperately as he stuffs Lance full of him, moaning raggedly every time Lance squeezes hard around him, aching to feel every thick inch of him.
“F-fuck, I’m so close,” Lance gasps, mostly hoping that Shiro will have mercy and slow down. Naturally, it doesn’t work.
Shiro groans against him, then leans up again so he can whisper, “C’mon, baby, come for me.” Lance whines and arches hard, bucking his hips at the low, growling moan of his name that gets out of Shiro. Undeterred, Shiro drags bitey little kisses all along the line of Lance’s jaw, murmuring, “Wanna feel you come around me, Lance, you feel so fucking good. Missed this so—so much, god.”
Lance bites his lip and writhes for him, driven to distraction by how perfect Shiro feels fucking into him like this, not even pulling out halfway before he slams his cock deep again, keeping him spread open and desperate like it’s the easiest thing in the world.
“T-Takashi,” is all he manages before Shiro bends him just a little farther, fucking into him at a better angle, one that has fireworks crackling across his vision. Lance squeezes his eyes shut and uses his strong legs to pull Shiro in harder, rocking into his thrusts as best he can, his hands roaming restlessly over pale, sweat-slick skin.
“Just like that, Lance,” Shiro rumbles, nuzzling his cheek affectionately even as he picks up his pace.
Having Shiro inside him like this, fucking him at just the right angle was overwhelming enough when it was at that steady, forgiving rhythm before. Now, with Shiro’s hips moving faster, hard enough that his hips rock Lance in the sheets, it’s all he can do to not scream. He wants to, but if he screams, people will come running, and that is the last thing in any world he needs right now.
“Takashi, Takashi,” he gasps, chewing on his lip in an attempt to keep his volume down as his orgasm builds tight and hot inside him. “I’m g-gonna come, fuck, please—”
Shiro groans roughly, his eyes shuttering closed as he buries himself deep. Lance swears he can feel Shiro’s cock twitching inside him, and honestly, that just makes it that much harder to hold back. Shiro must be close too, just as needy as Lance is, just as desperate for this.
As Shiro fucks him higher, whispering sweet, brainless praise against his lips, Lance does his best to hold on just a little longer, riding the edge of his orgasm as long as Shiro will let him. He can’t keep it up, though.
When Lance comes, he arches up against Shiro again and reaches between them to clumsily stroke himself through it, his eyes squeezed shut, an overwhelmed wail of Shiro’s name begging to leave his chest. He grits his teeth and mutes it down to a few desperate, breathless whimpers, pulling tight around Shiro and whining at how hard he is. Shiro’s moaning for him too, his thrusts losing their rhythm, but he’s doing his best to fuck Lance’s orgasm right out of him, and all Lance can really do is oblige.
He spills hot between them, his free hand gripping Shiro’s shoulder hard as his hips buck and shake, his thighs quaking around the man’s waist. As he peaks, his body thrumming with pleasure, Shiro groans for him, then slows to a stop, grinding languidly until Lance collapses under him.
“F-fuck,” Lance manages weakly, dragging his clean hand through his own hair. When he feels how hard Shiro still is, how he’s still panting shakily, Lance blinks up at him and lazily wipes his hand on the sheet so he can drag his palm up Shiro’s chest. “C’mon, Takashi, why’d you stop?”
Shiro whimpers at that, and god, it’s such a perfect sound. He bites his lip, and with some breathless encouragement from Lance, starts moving again.
He’d been close when Lance came, when he stopped, so it doesn’t take much more for him to finish. He pounds his cock into him with a gasping moan, still looking down at the faces Lance is making, watching his flushed, bitten lips part around brainless little moans.
Lance knows Shiro’s right there, but he decides to be helpful anyway.
He reaches up and soothes one thumb over Shiro’s cheek, watching his eyes flutter closed at the feeling, before whispering, “I love you, Takashi.”
It’s hardly the first time they’ve said the words to each other. It’s the first time in too long, though, the first time after far too many battles, and those words combined with his given name break Shiro altogether.
Shiro has to lean down and sink his teeth into Lance’s shoulder as he fucks his come into him, but even that isn’t really enough to muffle his desperate, overwhelmed moans. Lance arches into him and gasps, his body tingling from the overstimulation, Shiro’s sweet noises so perfect in his ears.
Finally, Shiro buries himself deep and grinds roughly, his breath hitching at the feeling before he collapses. Lance doesn’t mind his weight on him. If anything, it’s comforting, feeling Shiro’s flushed, sweat-slick skin against his, feeling their heartbeats race in time with each other. He’s always loved that feeling, and how clingy Shiro gets after sex.
After a moment, Shiro breathes a ragged curse, then gently kisses the marks he doubtlessly left on Lance’s neck. Lance just turns his head obligingly and hums, closing his eyes contently.
“I love you,” Shiro rumbles once he has the brains. “I love you so much...”
Lance smiles for him, lovingly carding his fingers through snowy hair. “Love you too, big guy.”
Shiro hums happily at that, gently nuzzling Lance before moving to pull out of him. He breathes a pouty little moan as he does it, like he hadn’t wanted to leave just yet, at which Lance can’t help but giggle. He lets Shiro clean him up and bully him back into his clothes, but not without a good amount of complaining.
Thankfully, Shiro gives in to his pleas to spend the night, not that he’d taken much convincing.
The next morning, he wakes up with a mouthful of Shiro’s hair, perfectly playing his usual role as a jetpack, and much to his chagrin, his mother and his sisters are already taking pictures.
Oh well. He can’t complain much. He has his family, and he has his Shiro, so today’s already shaping up to be a pretty decent day.