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Keith has got to be exhausted, judging by the rings under his eyes, the faint lines around the brilliant smile he's been wearing all evening, the mottle of bruises and small scrapes he'd been wearing under that Marmora armor. But you wouldn't know it from the way he's working his thighs hard in Lance's arms, riding like he stole him.
Which, ok, he kind of did. Or maybe Lance is the thief here, stealing Keith away from their little Voltron welcome-back party, because everyone has missed Keith - and yet he can't bring himself to feel bad about this little scrap of selfishness. It's been ages and he's starving for it.
So is Keith, who made incredibly inappropriate eyes at him all through dinner and Hunk's latest attempt at space cake and literally grabbed him the second they made it back to the hallway outside Lance’s bunk, unzipping his own suit before Lance even got the door open. Lance can't keep his hands off of his familiar shape and skin, and can't think of a good reason to try. They can't be close enough, even like this, with Keith bouncing on his lap and taking his cock to the base.
He's only got him for nineteen hours, this time.
Lance's arms are locked around him like they just got out of a firefight, like he's just gotten out of the healing pod. He holds him so tight their rhythm stutters, Keith struggling to lift up through the embrace despite the slippery sweat-slick of their skin.
"Gotta let me move," Keith complains, laughing a little breathlessly, but he stops struggling and instead grinds low and hard, and that wicked pressure around his cock just rockets through the root of him, delicious and unbearable.
"Sorry," Lance gasps, "Just want you close."
"Me too, but I’m also close, Lance, gonna come soon, just a bit harder -"
Fire surges through him. "Love to hear it," Lance grunts, and he drops his hands to Keith's hips and digs his heels into the mattress, bucking up and punching a keening moan out of him.
Lance didn't mean to but he actually beats him to the peak, arms snug around Keith's waist again and rolling hard, shuddering and gasping into his neck. Keith moans when he realizes, wrapping his own arms around Lance's head, hands threading in his sweaty hair and squashing him to his chest as he grinds as close as he can.
As soon as Lance has the focus for it he digs his hand between them for the hot line of Keith's dick, the other clasping the back of Keith's neck, fingers wound through the tangle of his too-long-to-be-a-mullet. He nuzzles in and sucks the darkest hickey he can into the juncture of his neck and shoulder while pinning Keith’s slick cock against his own abs and stroking him off hard and fast. It doesn't take long for Keith to come with a choked sob, still rocking slightly in his lap with his face buried in Lance's hair, thighs squeezing like a vise around Lance's hips, spurting over Lance's hand and both their bellies.
In the wind-down, they collapse together like a cooling souffle. The clasp of Keith's arms and legs around him goes softer and looser, but he doesn't let go, just breathing deeply into Lance's hair. Lance is still gently cupping Keith's softening cock, stroking up and down his spine with the other hand. Lazily he keeps mouthing at that same hickey, like he can ink it down darker than any of the other bruises dappling his partner’s body.
“Should clean up.” Lance mumbles it reluctantly, lips moving against damp skin. Keith has probably going on fumes for who knows how long and needs the sleep. When he starts to detangle them, though, Keith just clamps on harder.
"Can we just stay like this for a bit," Keith says, barely audible, and his legs squeeze tight again. There's an audible squish from the sloppy mess where they're joined.
Lance smiles against his shoulder. "You got it, babe. One sweet sweet cuddle, coming right up." He starts to loosen again, but Keith hangs on like stubborn octopus. "You uh, wanna clean up first?"
"No, I mean stay like this." Keith's face burns hot against the damp skin under his ear, and his hole clenches briefly around Lance's sensitized dick with a spark of almost-painful pleasure.
Lance blinks, his sex-dazed brain trying to catch up. “You mean…you want me to not…pull out?”
“…If it’s not too much?”
Oh. Oh. Lance flushes to match Keith’s blushy ears. Frankly, he would happily live his life with Little Lance wrapped all snug in Keith’s amazing body all the time, if that wouldn’t make life logistically impossible. But he’s never actually considered just. Chilling like this. He likes the idea. He really likes it.
“Is that how we’re gonna spend your vacation?” he teases, turning his head to nose into Keith’s sweaty locks. “You’re going to spend the whole thing sitting on my cock ‘til we’re ready to go again?”
To his surprise, Keith reacts with a fluttering intake of breath that sighs out in gritty moan. “Oh fuck, Lance. Yeah. I wanna feel you getting hard inside me.”
“Quiznack.” Might not be that long, because even the thought has all his nerves alight. “You are an absolutely filthy man and I’m so into it. Yeah, we can definitely do that."
Keith does at least allow him to swipe a shirt through the mess on their bellies – if Keith wants to lie here all sweaty and serve up sloppy seconds then fine, but Lance and his dick’s interest in getting him messy do not extend to cum drying all crusty down his front - and carefully maneuver them to roll over with Lance on top.
Keith’s face is smugly pleased as he snuggles into the pillows, bringing his feet up to lock his ankles under Lance's butt. “Mm yeah, there we go. You feel so good, sweetheart. Think I could stay here all weekend.”
Then stay, Lance wants to say, but doesn’t. Stay with Voltron, with me.
“Yeah. Let's just stay like this for a bit,” Keith sighs contentedly, and Lance can't say no to him.
This is just so…nice.
Even though his ass is a little sore, and Keith will probably regret his life choices tomorrow morning. It’s been a while, so he probably should have let Lance stretch him longer or more gently, but the idea of waiting any longer to be this close made him want to tear his skin off with itching impatience. Even flaccid Lance is thick and long. The warm, wet push of him against Keith’s rim and the heft of his firm waist between Keith’s thighs and the press of their chests together…fuck, Keith has missed this so much. He’s missed sex, he’s missed being touched in any way that’s not violent or perfunctory, he’s missed human intimacy, and he’s missed Lance, missed Lance, missed Lance. And now he’s got him again, and Keith soaks up the skin-on-skin contact like dust-dry land soaking up the desert rain. Growing up on starvation rations of affection haven't made going without any easier.
Keith sighs contentedly, nestling a little deeper into the soft mattress and hitching his crossed ankles a little higher on Lance’s back. It’s squishy and raw and soft down where they’re joined. The protective urge to keep Lance pressed tight, nestled snug inside him, pulls at him as deep as the instinct to clamp his hand over a bleeding wound.
“So what have you been up to here?” he murmurs, skating his hands up and down Lance’s ribs.
“Oh, the usual. Saving the day. Sitting through intergalactic meetings. Putting on shows. Missing you.” Lance cards his fingers through Keith’s hair, scratching lightly at his scalp. It feels nice. “Oh man, though, did we tell you about Hunk’s cooking fanclub on Nabaxh? They’re totally aquatic but I guess they have these geothermal vents - ”
Lance loves to talk and Keith loves to listen to him. He’s got a few stories saved up about Marmora training, but mostly he chuckles and nods and reacts to the updates about what the paladins have been up to in their scant downtime.
It’s perfect. It’s exactly what he needed. Keith tries to brand it all into his memory.
Lance’s body is warm and heavy, pressing him into the sheets and nestled inside him. The weight of Lance's balls against the undercurve of his asscheeks, the crease of his hip cradling Keith's own soft cock, the sticky press of his belly, the expansion of his ribs as he breathes, the thump of his heart against his chest. The worthwhile ache of Keith’s own hips, lying with them spread open to hug around Lance’s. The more he soaks Lance’s laughter and presence in, the more keenly he feels gaping lack of him in these last weeks, that will return to drag down the next.
Now that he's not caught up in the desperation of need and pent-up arousal, safe in the Castleship with the person he trusts most, though, exhaustion claws heavy at him.
“Did I put you to sleep?” Lance is asking.
“Not sleeping,” he mumbles.
“Uh huh. Your eyes have been closed for a couple minutes now. When’s the last time you slept?”
“Mm. Dunno. Couple days?”
“Baaaabe. Oh my god.” A warm nose nuzzles Keith’s cheek. “You should sleep. You’re gonna give yourself stress wrinkles. You’re going to give me stress wrinkles. Do you want me to get stress wrinkles?”
He grunts, unimpressed. It’s true that Keith sleeps a million times better with Lance in grabbing range, but it also feels like a waste of time to be unconscious when he could be doing literally anything else with him. “Don’t wanna sleep, just want you.”
"You've got me," Lance says with a twitch of his hips, a smile curling his voice. Keith lets out a little whine of pleasure at the wet nudge against his rim. “You can doze if you want.”
"Fine. Don't pull out, I still wanna feel you get hard inside me." Stay, he means. But that's not something he's ever been able to ask of anyone. There's never been a point; nobody ever does, and even the people who say they will and mean it end up not being able to, but this is different. This is just for now and is like... if it's just hot and kind of kinky maybe it won't hold the same weight.
And anyway, Lance isn't the one who's leaving.
"You got it, babe. I’m pretty comfy here with this sweet warm hole to stash my OG bayard in. And I’ve got ogling to catch up on anyway. One dick-stuffed nap, coming right up.”
So he just…does. Dozes with Lance’s heavy cock inside him and his familiar weight pressing him into the soft mattress, in that dreaming space between sleep and waking. Keith drifts, half aware of Lance humming idly, the occasional featherlight touch of fingertips and lips against his hair and face. This must be the most peaceful place in the universe, he thinks.
After some unmeasurable amount of time he thinks maybe Lance is speaking. Is it a question? “Wzzat?” Keith tries to ask, but it comes out as an incomprehensible mumble.
A touch teases across his bottom lip. “You awake there, babe?”
Keith hums low in his chest. He lets his fingers slide apart from where they're loosely clasped at the small of Lance's back and slips them down, fondling his butt lazily. A small smile tugs at corner of his own lips when he feels the little shock of Lance's soft, warm cock twitch inside him.
"Feels so nice," he mumbles, gravel in his throat.
There’s a puff of soft laughter against his cheek. “Yeah it does,” Lance says, wiggling a little on top of him. “You’re so hot inside, it’s like soaking in a bubble bath. It’s like you were built to take my cock. Have I mentioned recently how much I love your ass? Think I’m just gonna move right on in and stay there. Though if I can book some time for a flip fuck this weekend I’d be down for that too.”
“Mmm, mmmhmm,” Keith agrees, eyes still closed. Easy, this is so easy. There’s no pressure or obligation right now, nobody to perform for, he can just feel, and it’s so nice. He’s been so starved for contact and takes his fill now, slowly stroking Lance’s hips and sides and back, letting his hands wander and dip over the familiar terrain. Familiar land under his palms and fingers, familiar air in his lungs and ears – the scents of Lance’s lotions and soaps, of lube and sex, of human sweat and Altean laundry detergent. The ambient sounds of the Castle of Lions, the hum of the vents and distant rumble of the ancient engines. The small dented scar just above the crest of Lance’s hip, old and nearly invisible, but that the tip of Keith’s pinkie fits against perfectly.
Keith hums again at the feeling of Lance's warm lips at his neck, where he's pretty sure he must already have a hickey. Hot wet tongue followed by the coolness of air, the faintest impression of teeth. Lance's hands slide under his shoulder blades, holding him closer, and his mouth moves up to play with his earlobe. Even though it tickles, it sends a tingly spike of arousal down the base of his spine. The hum in his throat opens into a vocal keen.
Lance pulls away and Keith's eyes finally slit open. The room is warm and dim - he must have dozed off fully at some point, because he doesn't remember them turning down the lights. Lance is looking down at him through heavy-lidded eyes. Keith sinks into his gaze, petting him.
Keith is a little surprised that Lance didn’t pull out a tablet or something while he was dozing, and says so.
"Psh. I can do that any old time."
Lance leans down, propping on an elbow and thumbing his hickey with the other hand. Keith moans low in his throat, tipping his chin slightly, and Lance strokes his throat with his fingertips, then higher to trace the line of his nose, his lips, thumbing the divot below them, not breaking eye contact. Keith lets himself hang in the moment, still aware of his breathing and Lance's, letting it fall into sync. It’s weird, this feeling, half asleep and alert at once. There’s a charge in the air between them like the second before lightning strikes. The slip of fingertips turns into the heavy warm slide of Lance’s palm, not squeezing, just firmly caressing his throat almost like a massage, sliding down til his thumb catches in the notch of Keith's collarbones, smoothing back up to cradle the wedge of his jaw, back and forth.
Keith feels his own groan rumble against the palm of Lance's hand. It goes on for minutes on stretching on minutes, before the smoothing pressure lifts and Lance moves to trace and play with his ear.
He can feel Lance slowly harden inside him, the weight of his cock going from a soft, squishy comfort to a firm, satisfying press. Unable to just lie and take any longer, his hands rise to catch Lance's face, cupping it, and then pull him gently down into a kiss. Their lips catch and slip, shallow and tender.
The rhythm of it is soft, so soft it's barely there, but impossible not to fall into. Lance's hips are rolling in a small, gentle circle, Keith's rocking slightly to meet him. Just the tiniest bit of friction against his rim, the lightest push inside him. It’s still slippery with Lance's cum, smoothing their way.
Every is so familiar about it - the pattern of the kiss, the shape of his hand cupping Keith's face and lacing into his hair, the planes of his back and the ridged canyon of his spine and the muscles on either side, the little bump of a mole on his left hip, the heft of his cock inside him and the scratch of the curls down there between his legs. Keith moves to stroke Lance’s arms in the same rhythm that Lance stroked his throat before, feeling the flex of his biceps under his own palms as they rock together.
It feels like it goes on forever. It’s so soft, so comfortable, so familiar, even though the lazy mornings they do it like this are so starkly few and far between. Keith is already dreading the end of it. He wants this moment to last forever.
Lance pulls back a little, brow crinkled, and then halts in his rhythm, touching his cheek. Before Keith can ask why he stopped, Lance says, "Babe, you're crying."
“Oh,” Keith says, looking up at him. “Sorry.”
"Are you ok? Does it hurt?"
"No. No, this is nice." Keith blinks, and he can feel it now, the hot slip of tears down his temples. "Don't stop."
"You sure, honey? What's wrong?"
"I just missed you," Keith says again. "I missed this."
"I missed you too," Lance answers again, looking heartbroken.
Oh god, it’s awful. He never wants Lance to look like that. Doesn't want him to feel heartbroken, so Keith kisses him slow and deep, hugging close again. “Keep going,” he groans against Lance's cheek, letting his mouth smear down his jaw.
Their rhythm slows even more, dragging out their movements like waves far out in the empty ocean, vast and rolling and crestless. The tickle of sweat tracks down his thighs from the backs of his knees. They’re breathing each other in and out, in and out. He doesn’t know if it’s real, if they can align quintessence like this, with just their bodies and breath, but the rolling cycle feels almost like the energetic gestalt of syncing in Voltron.
Keith is stretching, out and out and out. Not stretching in a way that’s taut, torn in all the directions in he's being pulled, but melting infinitely, scattering, like headlights diffusing in fog and filling the room, like Lance is filling him. When his climax slides through him it seems to last forever, a high, sustained note that rings through his bones just past the edge of oversensitivity. If he didn't feel the cum oozing over his belly he might not have even realized, or known that drawn-out keening is him.
Lance’s orgasm, though, is unmistakable. His entire body goes tense over him, stiffening and jerking, and then he folds down over Keith like molten chocolate, gathering him up in his arms and moaning his name brokenly against his cheek. Keith smooths his hands down Lance’s back to cup his butt, murmuring mindless encouragement as that firm ass twitches in short little thrusts under his palms, filling him with warmth a second time.
For a moment, all is still but their breath, ragged in the quiet. Then Lance hisses a breath through his teeth.
“Getting to be a little too much,” he says, pecking a line of apologetic kisses down Keith’s jaw.
“Yeah, go ahead.”
It’s raw and wet between his legs when Lance pulls out, suddenly chilled and empty. But instead of pulling away his boyfriend tips them sideways and snuggles them together, noses touching and arms tangled, and it’s warm and close enough.
“Holy shit,” Lance says, eyes dark and blown. “That was…wow. Who knew that going slow could be so mind-blowing.”
“Not everything’s about getting it done fastest,” Keith hums. His eyelids are growing heavy again. He’s so warm, sore but comfortable, and falling all the way asleep in Lance’s arms is starting to sound very nice.
A finger pokes his cheek. “Excuse me? Is this the same Keith who broke all the gully run records at the Garrison?” Lance teases. “Have you ever met a speed limit you respected?”
“Shuddup. You’re ruining the afterglow.”
“Is it the afterglow or is it you trying to fall asleep again without showering?”
“Ngh.”
Lance kisses him deep and wet (mm, nice), then breaks it (boo) to scatter light peppery kisses all over his face. Keith scrunches his eyes tighter against the onslaught, scowling.
“C’mon, babe.”
How is Lance so amazing and so terrible at once. “Wanna stay in bed.”
“Absolutely not!” Lance sounds so affronted, and it’s a different flavor of familiarity. Keith smiles into the pillow as he rants. “I am down for stuffing your butt for sexy naps but if we are going to sleep then we are showering first! And my skin needs its loving too to maintain this glow! All this beauty doesn’t just happen, Keith! Come on, let’s go.”
“Nuhhhh,” Keith grumbles, and shoves his boyfriend right off the edge of the bed in a falling tangle-flail of limbs and sheets.
Lance’s head pokes up over the side of the bed, expression dramatically outraged and hair sticking in every direction. “Oh it's on, Kogane!”
“You look like a roadrunner that got caught in in a dust devil,” Keith says blandly.
“You look like – you! Oh my quiznack, you asshole, I’m gonna throw you in the bath.”
Popping to his feet and grabbing Keith by the ankle with one big hand, Lance starts dragging him bodily out of bed. Keith makes a half-assed attempt to wrestle him off, breathless with laughter at his boyfriend’s sputtering face, until Lance straight up picks him up and tries to haul him into a bridal carry. Keith kicks out, feet scrabbling for the floor before Lance can drop him on the floor on purpose. He’s got his footing and is trying to get Lance in a headlock while also trying to not get manhandled into the bathroom and also touch as much heated skin as possible, when a thick blob of cum plurps out of his sensitized hole and runs a tickling line down his inner thigh. Keith squeaks, jolting upright.
It takes Lance a second to notice, but when he sees it, he grins like the devil, smug and lascivious. “You’re losing your cream filling there, cupcake,” he says, delivering a playful spank to his right asscheek. “You’ll at least wanna take care of that before you go to bed or you'll feel nasty in the morning.”
“Maybe I wanna be a little nasty, ever thought of that?” Keith retorts, giving in this time at Lance’s playful shove and tumbling into the shower in the small adjoining bathroom. Instead of turning on the water, though, he presses his chest to the wall and arches his back and sticks his ass out. With his legs spread wide Keith shoves two fingers in his own sticky hole, gasping a little at the feeling of spunk burbling out around his fingers, and shoots Lance a smoldering look over his shoulder.
Due to Lance’s army of soap bottles, there’s not really room for both of them in the shower. But they’re paladins of Voltron. They’ve gotten pretty good at creative problem solving.
They do get to a Lance-acceptable level of clean eventually.
Afterward, Keith scrubs a towel over his hair and then brushes his teeth, fondly watching Lance wrap himself up in a fluffy bathrobe and start fussing with all his bottles of space goo.
“This is the real reason you wanna jet out of bed,” Keith teases. “So you still have some time to sleep after your skin stuff.”
“Skin care is a lifelong effort,” Lance sniffs, dabbing something green and herbal-smelling on his chin. “Fifty years from now you’re gonna be crusty old man and I’m still gonna be fresh-faced and nubile, and you’ll regret not moisturizing.”
“Doesn’t bother me. You’re the one who’s gonna have to look at it.”
“I’m a hero, Keith. I can’t just stand by and let a disaster happen.”
“Then I guess I’m just gonna let it be your problem forever.” Keith shrugs. “I’m gonna be your problem forever anyway, what’s one more detail.”
“Watch it, sweetcheeks,” Lance says, singsongy. “If you’re going to sweet talk me like that I expect a ring.”
His gut swoops but he manages to keep his voice level. “’K, sure. I can get a ring.”
Freezing, Lance stares at him in the mirror. Half his face slathered in slime, and the entire thing molded into a perfect picture of scandalized horror. Maybe that was too much, too soon. “…Keith Kogane. Was that a legit proposal? Are you proposing to me naked in the bathroom? While I'm exfoliating?? With a mouthful of toothpaste and a towel on your head???”
Or maybe Lance is as melodramatic as...well, Lance.
Keith blinks slowly. He spits the toothpaste in the sink. “Better?”
His boyfriend gapes, stunned speechless for a full five seconds, then slams his face slime on the counter. “KEITH!” he shrieks. “Where is the romance?”
“Excuse me? I’m not romantic? That’s not what you said when I got you that buttplug with the Oaschaci flower crystal in the knob – “
“Bending over in a public bathroom to show me a flower in your ass is not romance, it’s a quiznacking tease!”
Despite the tickle war that follows, they do get through the rest of their end of day routines. Keith strips the bed and puts on new linens from the closet while Lance finishes attending to his pores. Maybe Lance had a point, he admits begrudgingly in the privacy of his mind, wiggling comfortably against the fresh sheets in his clean borrowed sweatpants as Lance climbs in next to him, curling like parentheses.
He’s not really sure if they were joking or not, just now. Keith would absolutely get a ring, but with everything going on, with the Blade, with Voltron, would Lance even –
“It’s not a no,” Lance says, interrupting his train of thought before it can begin to curl into anxiety. His expression is intense and serious, now. “If you…if you wanna be my problem in fifty years, I want that too. You know that, yeah?”
“Lance,” Keith says, hushed. “I – fuck. It’s so fucking selfish of me but yeah. I want – but – “ he closes his eyes, unwilling to let that sting become more.
“But not right now?” Lance finishes for him, like he’s on the same track. Of course he is. He’s in this war too, isn’t he? Even if Keith weren’t going back to the Blades in less than a day, if he were still in the Castleship.
“Someday,” Keith says, instead of any of the spiraling thoughts digging into him now, about going back to his next lonely mission. Something to hold on to, instead of letting everything else drag him down. “When we can – when there’s less fighting, when we can go back to Earth. You can see your family, we can…someday.”
“Yeah,” Lance says thickly. “I’d like that. Yeah.” He seems to want to say something else, but instead he reaches up to press a kiss, warm and dry, to Keith’s forehead. Then he clears his throat, snorts a laugh. “Though maybe I should propose to you next time, to make sure it’s done right.”
“Well I did hear you have a high standard for romance,” says Keith dryly. “So I look forward to swooning at your proposal.”
“Unbelievable. The quiznacking nerve,” Lance huffs, leaning back to arrange his pillows just so and punching them into Lance-approved squishiness before flopping back down again. “You wanna swoon? I will come up with a proposal that will blow your pants off, mister.”
“Can’t wait,” Keith says, even though he knows that realistically, he’ll have to.
But he can. For Lance, he can wait – for Lance, one of these days, he’s going to stay.