Call Me By Your Name

by melancholymango

Summary:

Lance Sanchez (Or, as he refers to himself, Lance McClain)

6’2. 180lbs. Average intelligence. Well-versed in hand-to-hand combat, but much more of a threat from a distance with a history of professional long-range weapon use. Last known sighting: Coruscant. BRING BACK ALIVE.

Lance Sanchez (Or, as he refers to himself, Lance McClain)

6’2. 180lbs. Average intelligence. Well-versed in hand-to-hand combat, but much more of a threat from a distance with a history of professional long-range weapon use. Last known sighting: Coruscant. BRING BACK ALIVE .

As far as pucks go, this one offers Keith a fair deal more information than he normally gets when it comes to potential bounties. He tilts his head to the side, silently sizing-up the miniature hologram of the target in question.

He doesn’t exactly look like a criminal, but that doesn’t mean much. Keith has been in the “business” (for lack of a better term) long enough by now, he knows a thing or two about how images don’t always line up with the core of a person. Some of the hardest looking people he’s met, have been the kindest and quickest to offer him a hand. He knows better than to pass judgement on appearances alone.

“What’s the kid’s deal, then?” Keith muses aloud, staring at the blank face of the man sitting across the table from him. Takashi Shirogane , proud cantina owner and the only agent of the bounty hunter’s guild that hasn’t caused Keith any trouble… yet. Doesn’t mean he isn’t about to, judging by the weary smile that quirks the corner of his pale lips. 

“Shiro, don’t waste my time. If you know something more than what the puck’s offering, speak up. A couple missed details can cost someone their life in a battle.”

“You don’t need to worry about that, Mando . Mr. Sanchez here might know his way around a sniper, but he’s no threat to someone of your skill level. I’m certain you wouldn’t have any trouble subduing him.”

Keith doesn’t speak, just sets his gaze intently from behind the tinted glass of his helmet. Eventually, the heavy stare seems to resonate, and Shiro groans in defeat.

“Look, I can get in real shit for sharing more than I’m told to, you do realize I swear an oath of anonymity when someone posts a bounty here?” Shiro shifts uncomfortably in his seat, casting his eyes warily around the cantina. There aren’t many people here, it’s late, and aside from a few drunkards lining the bar they’re more or less alone. Shiro’s gaze slowly trails back to him. “He’s not a criminal of any sort, he’s a nobleman’s rebellious teenage son. Aside from a couple petty thefts and trespassing in the bedrooms of a few prestigious married women and betrothed daughters, the kid’s record is a clean slate. I doubt he’s ever shot a gun with the intention to harm, much less kill. It’s probably a hobby he picked up to scare his dear old dad, get him off his case for a while.”

“He sounds like a pain in the ass.”

“Eh, well, aren’t all teenagers?” Shiro shrugs his shoulders, picking up his drink and toying with his glass, watching the clear alcoholic liquid inside slosh against the sides of the cup. He takes a sip, sighing contently, eyes fluttering shut. 

Keith sighs under his breath. That particular dig didn’t go over his head. 

Shiro is one of the few people in his life that has any idea about his age, and that’s only because Keith tired of having to pretend to understand all of his old-man references to pre-war time. Keith is only nineteen, hardly a man beneath solid beskar that masks his identity completely. He was born into the war, he was never granted the liberty to know what came before it, though he counts his blessings for surviving to see what came after.

The galaxy is nowhere near peaceful yet, the fact that there’s a demand for his line of work speaks for itself, but even a bounty hunter tires of needless violence. 

“I’m not a child, Shirogane, I’d appreciate it if you treated me the same as you’d treat any other hunter.”

“Keith, the only reason I’m sitting here offering this job to you at all is because I give you special treatment. And not because of your age, damn it, I do it because we’re friends .”

“ Friends ? Speak for yourself, this is strictly business on my end.” Keith repeats, smirking behind his helmet as he watches Shiro flounder. 

“Whatever, asshole.” Shiro grunts out, angrily biting into the lemon that’d been resting on the rim of his drink since he’d had it brought over. Keith glances around the room, beginning to grow antsy. “Near as I can tell, his father wants a scary bounty hunter to chase him down and scare some sense into him so he sticks a little closer to home. And with this many credits promised to whoever accomplishes it? It’s easy money, something you and I both know you’re in desperate need of with the current state of your ship .”

“My ship is fine .” Keith growls out, hands curling into fists beneath the table. Shiro struck a nerve, but there’s no way for him to know that with Keith’s pissed expression concealed by his helmet. Keith imagines it would be hard to tell the difference between his usual lack of enthusiasm toward conversation and his actual annoyed tone.

“Your ship is a death trap and if you don’t get the thrusters repaired soon, it’s gonna double as your grave.” Shiro waves his hand through the air dismissively, looking through the window to admire the dark moonlit street outside. Keith follows his gaze begrudgingly, spots a pair of locals hurrying along with their child tucked between their bodies protectively. This is a bad side of town, after all.

“I’ll do it.” Keith huffs out. “I’ll play babysitter and bring the dumbass home.”

--

Coruscant is about as pleasant as Keith remembers it being, as he’s pushed around the crowds in the streets, constant chatter surrounding him everywhere he turns. He left his ship at a local docking bay and tipped the worker heavily in hopes of getting a little bit of cosmetic work done, but he doesn’t suspect he’ll be staying long enough for them to get anywhere with it.

For starters, he feels suffocated with the sheer amount of people on this planet, and for that reason alone he’s going to make this hunt a speedy one and haul ass out of here as soon as he can.

But secondly, this Lance kid… is maybe the easiest person Keith has ever had the pleasure of tracking.

Hell, he might as well leave a bread crumb trail to his location. Literally every single shop keeper and passerby that Keith stops to ask about him has some kind of information and they all toss it up willingly, not even expecting payment for the information. It seems that for better or worse, the kid has left quite the impact on this big city.

It’s a little commendable, considering the sheer amount of residents on this planet and how hard it must be to stand out among them all. 

It becomes more commendable when Keith realizes that every single tidbit of information he’s been given is contradicting or an outright lie . That not only do these people know of Lance, they know him personally, enough to cover for his ass when a suspicious figure comes through town asking about him.

Hm… maybe this bounty won’t be as easy as he’d hoped, but it’s shaping up to be an interesting enough hunt that suffering through the crowds might be worth it after all.

From that point on, Keith writes off the idea of asking the locals for information on his target and hoping they’ll share out of the kindness of their hearts. It’s too densely populated for him to rely on any of his equipment or tracking skills, he needs some input to point him in the right direction… so he ventures to sketchier crowds, back alleys and bars, and he starts offering up a handful of credits along with his request.

After a couple quick conversations, Keith notices a common name in all their responses.

It’s a club, one of the well-known ones in the center of the city, built entirely underground beneath the looming skyscrapers and daily life that goes on overhead. It’s an exclusive sort-of place, but Keith has his ways of bypassing those sorts of rules, so he sets out with a plan in mind. 

The bouncer doesn’t bribe easily, but the second Keith resorts to threatening him with the sharp tip of his gun, the velvet rope is lifted and tossed frantically aside for him. 

The club itself is obnoxious. It’s everything Keith hates about the city, condensed, wrapped up with a bow on it. The dancefloor is a swimming sea of barely-covered bodies pressed tight together, the bar is surrounded by loud partygoers, and Keith doesn’t miss the dimly-lit back corner shrouded in dark figures sliding credits back and forth across the surface of their table. What exactly they’re paying each other for, or gambling on, Keith doesn’t want to know. He’ll sleep easier not knowing.

“Oi, look at ‘im! Wearing beskar steel from head to toe in a club? Shit, whoever grinds up on you is gonna get road rash !” A small blathering alien snickers as Keith walks past, rolling with laughter as he turns to his friends. Keith grunts, striding past them with a newfound quickness in his step. 

He knows he’s drawing attention, wearing a full suit of armor in a club like this, blatantly armed. The cities are more antsy about things like that, they don’t always understand the need for self-defense that more remote towns do. Seeing Keith sporting multiple weapons is a red flag in the plainest of ways.

One of his earlier contacts dropped hints that Lance tended to favor the back rooms, tucked away beyond that dimly-lit corner filled with wealthy monstrous figures. Keith holds his breath as he tries to walk past them unbothered, knowing from the first heavy step of his boot in front of their table that he’s about to be distracted from his goal.

“Aye, Mando, come over here!” 

“Yeah, dumbass, we’re talking to you. Do you see anyone else wearing armor here?” 

Keith turns to look in their direction, staying completely silent as he observes them from behind his helmet. He thinks he might even recognize a couple of them from pucks he’d rejected, or maybe even bounties he’d carried out. He hopes that’s not the case, he wants to get out of this with as little confrontation as possible.

Still, ignoring them outright will only frustrate them, so he’d best placate them and at least hear them out. A few heavy steps and then he stands before the table, hands on his hips, and wordlessly waits on them to say their piece.

“Say, are you available for hire at the moment?” One of them asks, snickering after the fact. Keith watches in silence as they cast sidelong glances at each other, wordlessly communicating. He can’t help but notice that while the rest of the club is jam-packed, everyone seems to be giving this corner a wide berth. He thinks he might understand why.

“I’m currently on a job.”

“That’s not a no, is it?” The other one asks, giving a skeezy smile. He doesn’t wait for Keith to elaborate, apparently he doesn’t actually care. “There’s a punk in the back I’d like you to take care of. A real pain in my ass. You wring the little shit’s neck and I’ll give you enough credits to have any girl in here. You like girls, don’t ya? I know the helmet doesn’t come off with you folks, but surely the rest is fair game?”

“No.” Keith deadpans, not even deigning this interaction important enough to specify which question he’s answering. It’s an all-around no, a rejection to the entire concept, and he won’t be swayed.

“Come on, it’s a quick task! Play your cards right and it’ll take you less than five minutes, don’t you have time for that much of a detour? Five minutes in exchange for five hours of fun with a woman, yeah?”

“What’s his name?” Keith sighs, but it’s not approval, it’s not even interest. He’s only entertaining this man so he doesn’t end up with a gun pressed to his helmet. This is the real detour from his quest and he’d like to walk away from this interaction without alerting the entire club to his presence. If this Lance kid is as good as they say he is, he might already be long gone.

“Ah, I knew you would be a man capable of appreciating a good offer when you hear it. I’ll even recommend a dancer in specific, eh? How does that sound?”

“I have no intention of spending my credits on cheap sex.” Keith growls out, growing frustrated at this point. His patience has never been a strong-suit of his. “What’s the boy’s name?”

“Pfft, what’s it matter? If you have a need to use it, you aren’t doing your job quick enough.” The first man chimes in again, laughing wickedly and swinging his bottle back to take a heavy gulp. Keith silently judges him from behind the glass of his helmet. “He’s a steady shot, you’ll need to take him out before he gets his hand on his gun. No need to worry about that though, I imagine his hands are more than full back there.”

Again, they exchange knowing looks, positively ripe with innuendo. Keith’s stomach turns.

He’s starting to get the feeling this might not be a detour at all though, and rather uncanny timing.

“Lance McClain?” Keith takes a shot in the dark, his tone bored. They both look equally surprised, before understanding dawns on them. Apparently it’s easy enough to put two and two together, to realize why a Mandalorian is here at all.

“Ah, don’t tell me, the bastard’s already got a bounty on his head?” One of the men sighs like this is an inconvenience to him, like he wanted to be the one responsible for Lance’s death personally. Then, seemingly coming to peace with it, he digs out his wallet and slides a generous pile of credits across the table in Keith’s direction. Keith eyes them, but he doesn’t dare take them yet, uncertain what the added conditions will be. “Consider this a tip, then. Blow his brains out, make it hurt. You have my endless gratitude.”

From the first glance in their direction, Keith knew what type of men these two were. Their cruelty seemed to permeate the air around them like a thick fog. Still, this seems a little excessive, to be willing to tip Keith for carrying a job they’re not even paying him for. Folks like these don’t hand over money for nothing, so they must have a lot riding on Lance’s death. Interesting...

“What’s your issue with him? He skip out on a couple month’s rent? Sleep with your wife?”

“Funny.” The man scoffs, his tone suddenly sobered. “Don’t tell me you don’t know? The fucker’s been starting a revolution of sorts here on Coruscant, making trouble where the good folks like us don’t want any. Inspiring the working class, stealing from the rich to give to the poor, dismantling systems put in place generations ago. We don’t want him to go on stirring the pot and bringing attention to things we’d rather stay hidden. You understand, Mando?”

“Yes.” Keith doesn’t hesitate to grab the credits now, pocketing them without a single hint of guilt. In most cases, he’d feel bad about accepting payment for a job twice, but he gets the feeling that these guys have money to spare, and he’s sure he can use it for something more worthwhile than whatever they’d be using it for. If they want to throw it around, they can do as they please.

“Give him my regards.” The man winks, looking all too pleased with this outcome. Keith stiffens, still mulling over his earlier description of Lance. It sounded nothing like what the puck had said and nothing like Shiro’s assumptions. He wonders what the truth is. It wouldn’t surprise him necessarily to find out that Lance’s father had a warped view of the type of man his own son was.

Not that it matters at this point, he’d already accepted the bounty.

“I’ll be sure to.” Keith nods his head, turning on his heel and striding confidently away from the table. He has no intention of ever seeing either of the men again, if he can help it. He moves through the stray partygoers surrounding the back rooms, most of which snuffing various colorful powders up their noses in the shadows where they won’t be noticed. Keith averts his eyes, slipping behind the curtained door into a room lit with deep red lights.

At the very least, this seems to be a receptionist area of sorts, and there’s no bare bodies to greet him.

It’s a small room, with cushions lining the perimeter, and a desk in the middle. Behind the desk sits a species he doesn’t recognize, with scaled pink skin and beady yellow eyes. Their facial features themselves are attractive enough, feminine and pretty by human standards, with expertly-applied makeup adorning each and every one.

“Oh? What do we have here?” They greet him warmly, leaning forward over the desk. Keith’s eyes momentarily drop to the swell of their chest, nearly spilling out of the skin-tight shirt hugging their body. He looks away quickly, face aflame behind the cover of his helmet. “A knight in shining armor?”

The flirty tone doesn’t go unnoticed, but it definitely goes without acknowledgement. Keith wants to get straight to the point, doesn’t want to spend a moment longer than absolutely necessary in this atmosphere that reeks of sex. It sets his skin alight, makes him feel antsy and uncomfortable like nothing else usually manages to. He’d rather deal with gore and guts than a stranger coming onto him.

“Where’s McClain?” He asks bluntly, reaching a hand down to the gun settled in its holster on his hip. In an instant, the alien’s tone completely changes. They bolt upright, hands raising into the air, aiming for helpless even though the look in their eyes says that they have to deal with scenes just like this one on the regular. Keith’s intentions aren’t robbery, however.

“Look, mister, we don’t have anything worth stealing back here. They make our customers pay up front, at the bar, we don’t keep any cash behind the curtain-”

“I don’t want your fucking credits, where is Lance McClain?” Keith demands again, his voice firmer behind the cover of his helmet now. “I won’t ask twice.”

There’s a shred of hesitation, like they’re debating whether to continue playing the denial card. It isn’t long before resigned acceptance takes over though, with Keith’s gun pointing in their direction.

“This way.” They move from behind the desk, careful to keep their hands where Keith can see them as he’s led down the dark, narrow hallway behind the desk. He doesn’t miss the noises pouring out from behind every curtained door they pass, low grunts and moans that have his hair standing on end. 

The alien glances back at him after a particularly loud moan rings out through the hall and offers a smile that looks almost apologetic, like they can sense Keith’s discomfort even without seeing his face. Damn it, he doesn’t like being read so clearly. “He’ll be… preoccupied, you see.”

“So I’ve gathered.” Keith grits out, not wanting to speak any further on the topic of what Lance McClain is doing back here. He’d hate to have to drag the idiot back to the ship buck naked, but that’s what it’s looking like he’ll be doing. 

The receptionist leads him to one of the last few doors at the very end of the corridor and Keith can see the flickering light of a candle lit behind the curtain. There are shadows moving about behind the thin fabric, but this room is relatively quiet by comparison to the others. If he engages his helmet to listen closely, he can hear the heaving breaths and the telling repetitive wet squelch that leaves little to the imagination. He immediately disengages his helmet. 

The alien who led him to the room is staring at him expectantly, like he’s meant to thank them for their help. He didn’t exactly give them much of a choice, but maybe this is how these things normally go around here. He nods toward them as his hand reaches for the curtain. “Very well. Thank-you.”

He’s only just gripped the fabric when the alien in front of him lunges forward, stabbing a short dagger into his side just below where his armor covers. He grunts out in pain as the dagger sinks into his flesh, the dampness of hot blood soaking through his shirt immediately following. 

“Lance! Run!” They scream loudly, the sheer volume ear-splitting enough to send Keith stumbling backward into the wall. He has one hand clasped over his wound, but the other rapidly reaches for his own gun. The receptionist is already disappearing into one of the other curtained rooms though and despite the ache in his side, Keith’s fight isn’t with them.

“Damn it.” He rears around, keeping pressure on his wound and his hand on his gun as he charges into the curtained room the stranger had pointed out to him. Inside, the candles littered on every surface are the only source of light, and the room is barren save for a bed in the center, sheer curtains hanging from the rafters above creating a canopy of sorts around it. 

Even from here, Keith can make out the shadowed shape of a body sitting upright in the bed, so he stomps over and tears the curtains back. It’s not Lance, it’s a human woman, her breaths stuttering in panic as she blinks up at him. She’s beautiful, and bare, her breasts barely covered by the blanket she’s clutching. Keith points the gun in her face. “Where is he?”

“Who?” She asks, wide blue eyes blinking dumbly. Keith wasn’t born yesterday, he knows that she’s playing dumb. After seeing how far people are willing to go to cover for Lance on this planet, he doesn’t doubt that she would try to string him along. His eyes scan the bed and immediately he notices the covered figure beneath the blankets, between her legs. Unless she’s less human than she appears, there’s no way her legs are that shape.

“That him under there?” Keith asks gruffly, pointing his gun toward the figure beneath the covers. She shakes her head back and forth, clutching the blankets tighter. Keith growls in frustration, reaching out to snatch them away from her in one heavy tug. The blankets fall to the floor, leaving her completely exposed, and the cowering man between her legs with long blonde hair and skin as white as alabaster-

That’s not Lance.

Keith reaches this realization in the same moment that he feels a gun settle to the side of his helmet, the quiet clink of metal against metal causing his jaw to clench. Fuck.

“Someone oughta teach you a thing or two about respecting a lady’s privacy, tin can.” 

“Says the man paying to abuse it.” Keith scoffs under his breath, staying as still as possible. As safe as he is with the helmet on his head, he doesn’t want his new beskar damaged, and he wants the ear-splitting headache that’ll follow a shot to the side of the head even less. He has to play this right.

“ Very bold of you to assume she’s the whore and not me, Mando.” Lance counters, causing Keith’s eyebrows to knit together in utter confusion. “I mean, hell, look at me. I’d rake in the tips. I’d have to beat customers off with a stick. You know what, maybe I’ve been pursuing the wrong career all along-”

What the hell? 

“Lance?” The woman interrupts him before he can continue, thank god, because Keith is starting to feel that ear-splitting headache coming on even without taking a shot to the head. This idiot is proving to be just as annoying as he’d expected, though nothing else about him is what Keith expected. “Do you want us to go get someone? We can call security-”

“That won’t be necessary, angel.” Lance answers, the cocky voice he’d been speaking to Keith in instantly replaced with something smooth like butter. It’s a purr, the pet name rolls off of his tongue with such familiarity that Keith is left second-guessing if he really is the whore. “You two get out of here, go warn the others and lay low for a bit. I’ve got this handled.”

“You’re sure?” The man speaks up, sounding awfully worried for someone who only knows Lance as impersonally as a hook-up. Maybe Lance is a regular, or maybe this man is a friend outside of these walls, Keith isn’t sure what to think anymore.

“Positive.” Lance sing-songs cheerily, like he isn’t currently handling a pistol. Even though Keith can’t see him from the angle he’s pinned in, he can hear the smile in the man’s voice when he speaks to the two people sitting in the bed. Keith watches as they scramble to get dressed, the seconds ticking by as he looks for an out. All the words about Lance being a sure-shot and having a skilled trigger finger come to mind though, and he doesn’t dare move a muscle when that gun is on him.

Soon, the two strangers scamper out of the room, and Keith is left alone with Lance.

His kind demeanor suddenly dropped, Lance steps into his peripheral, and taps the gun against his helmet again with more insistence. “ Who sent you ?”

“Who the hell didn’t.” Keith answers, more difficult than he probably should be right now, and managing to be honest despite avoiding the question. “You’ve got a lot of people that want you dead, Sanchez.”

There’s a moment’s pause where Keith listens to Lance’s breath hitch, something akin to a sigh stuttering past his lips. He instantly realizes that he’s made a misstep somewhere, revealing something he shouldn’t have. Fuck.

“It’s McClain , and you’ve just answered my question. There’s only one person who would call me by that name.” Lance grits out, stepping around in one smooth movement to stand in front of Keith. Now that Keith can see him, his eyes rapidly scan the man in front of him, sizing him up and taking in his target in the flesh. The side-swept hair and the deep blue eyes are the same as the puck, but he looks more muscular than he had in the hologram, his jaw more defined and a short stubble lining it. He’s older. A lot older than when the hologram had been made. He was maybe sixteen or seventeen then, it’s clear now that he’s Keith’s age at least. 

He’s also standing there wearing nothing but a pair of underwear. Bright red. Made of a stretchy material that hugs his skin and leaves far less to the imagination than Keith would like. 

“I suppose my father’s paying you quite handsomely, is he? Enough to repaint the walls after they’ve scraped your brains off them?” Lance asks him, cocking his head to the side. “Hm? What’s the matter? Cat got your tongue or are you… distracted? I’ve been told I have that effect on people.”

Keith resists the urge to roll his eyes, knowing it won’t do him any good to let his annoyance with the man get the better of him right now. Even if he is more obnoxious than anyone Keith has ever met.

“Well, I certainly can’t say I’ve ever been held at gunpoint by someone so… indisposed.”

“Can’t say I’ve ever seen someone so overdressed in a whore house.” Lance counters, shrugging his bare shoulders easily. Keith watches the muscles of his chest flex, analyzes the scars littered across his brown skin. He’s been in his fair share of battles, some are clean slices long healed-over, likely sword or knife wounds. Others are smattered discolorations of skin, from something less succinct, like claws or teeth.

“Well? Your friends are gone, there’s nothing stopping you. Pull the trigger.”

“I’m not an idiot, a single bullet won’t pierce through Beskar seamlessly, no matter how powerful the gun. And I only have time for one shot before you sweep your foot out and knock me onto my ass, gaining the advantage.” Lance muses aloud, somehow managing to voice exactly the strategy that Keith had been devising on the backburner of his mind. What the hell?

“So what? You’re not even going to bother taking it?” Keith asks him incredulously. “Just gonna stand there and gawk at me until I knock you down and take over?”

“Well, I could shoot to kill and obviously fail, or... the wiser use of the time is simply stalling you.”

“What? Stalling me until wh-” Keith starts to ask, when suddenly blaring alarms ring out around the room and the sprinklers overhead go off. It’s a downpour, torrential, water falling so heavily that Keith can’t see through it. It coats the glass of his helmet, blurring his vision as steam rises off of it and fogs the glass even further. He reaches up to swipe his hands across it in the same instant he kicks out blindly in Lance’s direction, but his foot doesn’t connect with anything and he falls on his ass.

By the time, he clears his helmet and rights himself again, Lance is long gone.

“Damn it!” He roars, getting to his feet and running out into the hallway. He runs past bare bodies frantically trying to get to the nearest exit, no doubt thinking this is a genuine fire alarm. He tries to spot Lance in the crowd, but it’s so hectic between the downpour and the screaming bodies, he knows it’s a lost cause. Lance probably even had a secret escape route, one Keith would never find.

His only saving grace is when he gets outside into the alleyway and in the crowd he spots a different familiar face with pretty blue eyes. The woman. From before. The one Lance had been sleeping with when he interrupted them. There’s no sign of the man either, so Keith marches up to her where she’s standing wrapped up in a blanket, looking uneasy.

The moment she sees him, she tries to take off. He’s faster than her by far though, especially where she’s running barefoot in a garbage-cluttered alley. He grabs her and slams her into a nearby wall, looming ominously in front of her and staring her down while she hugs the blanket to her shivering frame.

“Where is he?!” Keith shouts in her face, using his grip on her throat to push her into the brick wall with more force. She squirms in front of him, face flushed and tears gathering in her eyes.

“I don’t know.” She says, her voice strained by lack of airflow. Keith doesn’t relent his grip at all, keeping her pinned where she is. She grows more frantic, kicking her feet out. “I don’t know! He’s no friend of mine, he just comes by to fuck me sometimes. I don’t know where he stays, I hardly know his name.”

“That so? He’s a good enough fuck to risk your life for him?” Keith snarls, growing more annoyed with each passing second that goes by without answers. She glares defiantly up at him, and he watches in horror as a smirk slowly upturns the corner of her lips.

“Well, if you really want the filthy details…” With that, Keith drops her in an instant, her feet hitting the ground and then her body crumpling after it. She gasps for breath and he turns away, face aflame behind his helmet. He hates this. The entire topic makes him so fiercely uncomfortable.

He doesn’t even address her again, just sets his sights ahead and robotically walks away.

--

Lumbering back to the dock where he’s keeping his ship that night feels like a walk of shame. It’s not often Keith returns from a hunt empty-handed and though he has every intention of heading back out at the crack of dawn to try again, this feels particularly degrading. To be bested by someone as stupid and arrogant as his current bounty… it stings a little bit. Hits him where it hurts.

He’s in a bad mood to begin with, but when he walks in to the massive shop expecting to see his ship looking all primed and shining like he paid for and instead sees a massive pile of pink metal… he lights up like a match from head to toe. He’s furious from the moment he lays eyes on his ship, every inch of it a bright and obnoxious pink color that certainly wasn’t there when he left. 

Part of him thinks his eyes must be playing tricks on him.

“What the hell’s all this?!” He roars, turning on the owner where he’s talking with another customer on the other side of the bay. The man looks confused for a second, before recognition dawns and he lights up in a warm smile. Keith isn’t sure how he’s failing to read the murderous energy radiating off of him.

“Oh, Mando! Welcome back!” The owner waves off his other customer before strolling confidently up to Keith, he’s beaming like the cat who got the canary. “Don’t worry about a thing, you don’t owe us a single credit, it’s all paid for. Your friend said you wanted some work done to the ship, he tipped us generously for our efforts. What do you think?”

It doesn’t take Keith two seconds to realize exactly who’s behind this.

“I’m gonna fucking kill him.” Keith snarls, rearing around and throwing the first tool he can find at the hull of his ship. The wrench bounces sadly off the side of his ship with a metallic clang. Keith fumes silently for a moment before whipping around to face the man responsible. The man seems to finally sense the displeasure in the air, as he shrinks back a step from Keith to put space between them.

“Are you… not pleased?”

“I want all of this gone when I get back, you hear me?!” Keith demands, stepping into his space.

“Sir, that w-won’t be possible, we didn’t cut corners anywhere in the process. This paint is the most permanent option on the market, it’s very expensive stuff, are you sure you don’t-” The man is growing slowly less confident as Keith leans closer and closer, looming over him threateningly as if daring him to continue what he’s saying. He’s getting smaller and smaller, growing quiet, until a sudden realization seems to strike him and he lights up. “Oh, he left a note!”

“ What ?”

“Your friend, Mr. McClain, he left a note for you.” The man offers hopefully. He reaches into his back pocket and ever so slowly lifts up an ornate envelope. “Perhaps that’ll clear up some of the confusion. I know how particular you Mandalorians are about your colors. Every one signifies something or rather when it comes to your armor, I’m sure your ship is the same.”

“Stop assuming things, you know nothing about me or my creed.” Keith snaps, but he snatches the envelope from his hands all the same and tears it open. He hastily reads over the handwriting inside, privately pissed at how neat and formal it is. This might be the only thing about Lance that seems noble, his prissy fucking handwriting. “Is this a fucking joke?”

“W-What?” The man seems utterly defeated, seeing that the letter has done nothing to calm Keith’s rising anger. If anything, it seems to have pissed him off even more. Keith starts to read it aloud in a complete deadpan, so the sheer ludicrousness of the words sinks in.

“ Dear Stalker, I’ve paid for your room at a local hotel. 5-stars, of course! Feel free to utilize all of the room service novelties, I’ve paid for the full suite experience. I recommend the crab rotoven, it’s simply to die for. Enjoy your stay, I look forward to never seeing you again! Unfortunately, if I do, I won’t be so kind as to let you walk away next time. Please consider this before attempting to pursue me again. ”

Beneath the rest of the note, the address is written out as well as the room number.

“He ran away with his tail tucked between his legs like a fucking dog. And now he thinks he can mock me? Threaten me? Who does he think he is?” Keith says incredulously, his emotions warring in his chest. He’s so taken aback by the sheer audacity of this man, he isn’t sure whether he’s furious or secretly impressed anymore. Is he that blindly cocky or is he just an idiot? Or perhaps both? 

“I, for one, would certainly like to know if he has more credits where these came from.” The shopkeeper says finally, slinging the bag on his back down and opening it up. Inside, it’s utterly stuffed to the brim with credits. Keith can’t believe his eyes. Even some of the bounties he’s taken on haven’t paid that much. What the hell?

“He gave you all that? For the paint job?”

“The paint job cost twice this much, this is just my tip.” The man says, clearly just as shocked as Keith is feeling right now. That explains his overly joyful state when he first marched over here. Keith shakes his head in disbelief, thinking back on the note and wondering for the first time if he’d been serious about renting a hotel room for Keith.

“ Idiot .”

--

It doesn’t take him long at all to find the damn place, it’s the biggest building in the center of the underground city. It’s massive, a looming fabulous skyrise with windows lining every single floor and a neon sign at the top. Keith would normally never be caught dead somewhere so blatantly high-profile, the type of place celebrities and rich mobsters might stay. Still, this is the closest thing to a lead he has, and he’ll be damned if he lets this kid slip between his fingers.

The front desk is extravagant in itself, with multiple workers bustling around hurriedly behind it, carrying various types of paperwork and keycards to other guests. Keith has to wait in line for a few minutes before someone calls him up, but it gives him plenty of time to survey his surroundings and familiarize himself with all the exits. He’s not sure what to think of this, never in his life has a bounty tried to treat him to anything other than a face full of bullets. It’s strange to say the least, sets him on edge.

“Can I help you?” The worker asks, blinking four of their eyes at him in intrigue. It’s plain to Keith that he’s being sized up, no doubt looking out of place among the other A-list guests checking in. He’s a dirty man covered head to toe in armor, and not new armor either, it’s filled with dents and dings from use that are far from discreet.

“I’ve got an, err, reservation?” Keith tries, cursing himself behind the cover of his helmet for how uncertain he sounds about the fact. The greeter doesn’t look particularly convinced either, despite the sheer amount of fake hospitality layered on to their every reaction.

“Of course, what name is it under?”

“... McClain?” Keith tries, holding his breath as he waits for the inevitable fallout. Maybe a trap will fall from the sky, or they’ll pull a gun from beneath the counter, or maybe-

“Oh, you must be Lance’s special guest!” The worker lights up with genuine excitement, clapping their hands together excitedly. It’s a completely different individual from what he’d been looking at a moment ago, all monotone and practiced in their lines. Keith can’t help but notice the other aliens behind the counter whispering amongst themselves, each looking far more chipper since the mention of Lance’s fake identity. 

Hell, he’s likely fucked his way through the entire staff here too. Keith resists the urge to groan, trying to pay attention to the spiel the hotel employee in front of him is giving. “You have an all expenses paid pass to any of our hotel services, including the gym and the pool! If you need room service or have any questions at any point, feel free to call down to the desk and we’d be more than happy to help. Mr. McClain spared no expenses with this particular pass, so don’t hesitate to take full advantage of-”

“Noted.” Keith interrupts finally, holding his glove-covered hand out expectantly. The worker looks a little taken aback, before quickly composing themselves and handing him his room key. He snatches it away with a huff, turning on his heel to head toward the elevator. He’s still wary, eyeing up every socialite that stares or whispers in his direction. As far as he’s concerned, they’re all enemies here.

His room is on the top floor, naturally, and the elevator ride lasts so long that he starts to wonder if it’ll ever end or if he’s already been trapped. Sure enough though, the doors inevitably open, and he’s left walking down a grandiose hall lined in unique paintings and sculptures. There are only three doors leading off from the hall, no doubt all leading into massive penthouse suites like the one he’s headed to.

His is at the very end of the hall and he can’t help but grumble as he swipes his keycard, uncertain what to expect.

The door swings open and immediately, Keith reaches the long overdue conclusion that this kid isn’t an evil genius, but rather he is, in fact, a fucking idiot.

It’s the most expensive-looking place he’s ever set foot in, even with all the high class clients he’s worked for. The furniture looks like something recovered from royal temples, the lighting is low but bright enough for him to notice the metallic flicker of all the fine metals lining the walls, and the carpet beneath his feet looks so plush and full he almost feels bad about treading across it in his boots.

Not to mention the lit candles filling the entire room with a sweet honey-like aroma, or the rose petals covering the floor and leaving a trail deeper into the suite, or the pile of fine wines and chocolates on the entryway table. Keith helps himself to a bottle, pulling his helmet up just enough to chug some down before pacing further into the room.

He gets the feeling that he’s gonna need to be at least a little bit drunk for this shit.

Every corner he turns has his breath catching, spotting another expensive artifact or art piece that he knows must be worth far more than his ship at this point. He feels more out of place than he ever has, especially when he finally makes his way into the bedroom and is greeted by a massive four-poster canopy bed.

“You’ve gotta be fucking kidding me.” Keith breathes, swaggering up to it and looking down at the set-up laid out across the mattress on a silk sheet. An assortment of lube, a tv remote, what looks like it could be a flashlight, and some unmistakably phallic silicone sculptures that Keith finds himself squinting at for a long moment before he can put a name to any of the species that might possibly match up with the fake cocks he’s looking at. Goddamnit.

Then, in the center of the pile, there’s a note with familiar fine handwriting scrawled across it. Keith almost doesn’t want to read it, but he figures the contexts might be valuable to him. Might.

“Hello, Mando! I see you’ve found the hotel alright. I’ve paid for every single pay-per-view porno available through the duration of the night. Seeing how stiff you were in the whore house, and the fact that you pulled a literal weapon out of your pants instead of a figurative one, I assumed you might need the stress relief. My personal favorite is “Horny Hutt’s Introduce Princess to Butt Stuff”, it’s a treat!”

“I’m gonna kill this kid. Puck be damned.” Keith snarls, tearing the note apart into a flurry of shredded paper and watching it flutter to the ground. He’s gritting his teeth without even realizing it, jaw clenched so tightly it probably should hurt. He debates striking a match and setting the whole suite aflame, figures it might be the start of reparations for all the shit he’s been through on this hunt.

He spins on his heel, ready to storm off and leave this entire cursed experience behind him, only to freeze when he comes face-to-face with a human woman in the doorway he’d just walked through.

His gun is out within seconds, pointed in her face so closely that she has to tilt her head back to try and avoid it. Only then does he take the time to size her up, very quickly realizing that she’s no threat at all to him. She’s dressed in a sheer silk slip that barely covers her naked body, and what is covered is still very much visible through the thin material. He can see the curves of her waist, the swell of her breasts and the hard peaks of her nipples, can even make out the faint shadows of a tattoo on her stomach. 

Keith doesn’t lower his gun, if anything his grip grows tighter despite the relief of knowing she isn’t a threat. His knuckles must be white beneath his gloves.

“Oh, my! Sir, could you put that away, I mean you no harm, I-”

“What do you want?” Keith snaps at her, shoving the gun against her throat and letting the barrel sit there. She squirms helplessly, eyes darting around the room like someone else might come to her rescue. Keith looks too, but he’s certain they’re alone here.

“I’m here for your massage!” She blurts finally, tears building in her dark eyes. Keith’s grip on the gun nearly fumbles, but he manages to hold onto it somehow. “Um, your i-intimate massage? Courtesy of Mr. McClain?”

“I don’t want a fucking massage!” Keith roars, spinning around on his heel and marching further into the room. He takes one look at the dildos lined up and rips the sheet they’re settled on off the bed, watching them fly across the floor. Some of them bounce, he notes. He can’t turn around, can’t look her in the eye even with his helmet covering his blushing face. “Tell me, what else does he have lined up on the itinerary tonight? Cancel it all. I don’t want any room service and I sure as fuck don’t want any guests.”

“Okay, noted.” She squeaks out, still sounding tense after having a gun pointed at her. He listens closely as she furiously types something out on her phone, no doubt warning every other employee Lance had hired to come here tonight. Keith glances back over his shoulder just in time to watch her look up at him, seemingly uncertain about something. “Does that no-guests rule include Mr. McClain himself?”

“ He’s here ?” 

“Well, not currently, but he usually stops by most nights.” She offers with a shrug of her shoulders, and Keith notices for the first time the glint of metal piercings at her nipples. He scoffs, but he can’t look away, he keeps staring at her intently in search of more information. Finally, she takes the hint, thankfully before he has to raise his weapon again. “He has meetings. In the boardroom. With the owner.”

“Thank-you, you’ve been a great help.” 

With that, Keith marches past her and heads for the door. He doesn’t wait around to see her incredulous reaction, doesn’t wait for hotel security to show up. He’s a man on a mission now that he has an idea of where he should be headed. He wants this gig done and over with, the sooner the better.

--

It’s easy enough to find a discreet ceiling vent to hide inside located directly above the massive meeting table in the center of the boardroom. The waiting in uncomfortable silence is the hardest part, but Keith is nothing if not determined to catch this fucker at this point. So whether it’s minutes or hours he spends in that claustrophobic space, it doesn’t matter. He’s got a single-minded focus to get him through it.

The first time someone wanders into the room it’s a false alarm, just a cleaner sweeping the floors and humming to himself under his breath as he works. Keith enjoys the company in a weird way, if only because it distracts him from his own spiraling thoughts. He doesn’t like how much this particular bounty is making him think. It’s different in too many ways, he hates different.

The cleaner eventually leaves him in darkness and silence again, but it isn’t long after that that he hears the doors open again. He props himself above the vent, staring through the cracks to the table below and watching faint shadows move across the room. He can’t see anyone yet, so instead he listens intently to the quiet chatter that accompanies his latest guests.

“Are you sure this is a good idea?” Keith doesn’t recognize this voice, but it’s easy enough to figure out what type of person the man is based on the panic and anxiety residing so heavily in his tone. His posh accent implies that he must be one of the wealthier people Keith has seen around. So, a cowardly rich man, no doubt making shady deals with someone he shouldn’t be.

“You sound like a married man sneaking around behind his wife’s back, Hunk, lighten up a little.” Now this voice, Keith could pick it out in a crowd of a hundred. Laidback and borderline sleazy with how smoothly he purrs the words, no doubt trying to comfort his associate through his growing concern.

“He’s not some cheap bounty hunter your father picked up at the bar, Lance, he’s the real deal.”

“He’s a jackass.” Lance counters easily. “I can’t believe he actually came, that’s hilarious.”

“It’s not! It’s dangerous, you have no idea how much snooping he’s been doing, what he’s already found out. This was a stupid move, Lance, you’re putting all of us in danger.” The stranger is growing agitated at this point, Keith can hear the way his voice shakes with poorly-concealed emotion. He does feel a pang of sympathy for the poor rich bugger, he’s right after all, Lance dragged them both into this mess.

“Hunk, my man, you know there’s no way I would let any harm come to you.” 

“I know.” And just like that, strangely, the man exhales and sounds relieved. Like he truly believes this idiot is capable of protecting him from a trained bounty hunter, a Mandolorian at that. Either Lance has been talking himself up something fierce or it’s true that Keith has been underestimating him this whole time. “Still, you shouldn’t taunt him.”

“But it’s just so fun, you should have seen how mad he got at the club.”

“Haven’t you heard anything that people say about Mandalorians?” The man is getting annoyed again, breathing heavily as he hurries to sit in one of the seats lining the table. From here, Keith can see him clearly. He’s a bigger man, with anxious sweat beading at his forehead, and dressed in a fine-printed leather suit that’s a dead giveaway of how wealthy he must be. “They’re killers, Lance, stone-cold and ruthless killers. They have no compassion, no loyalty, no connection to anything or anyone. They might as well be droids, just hollow inside of that armor of theirs.”

Keith tries to ignore the way that stings.

It’s nothing he hasn’t heard before a hundred times over, after all. You’d think that sooner or later he’d get it through his head that people will never understand him or his creed. They will always pass these same judgments when they see him, whether it’s aloud or internally doesn’t matter. He will always be the outsider, it’s the life he’s been dealt. Better they’re intimidated by him, at least they’ll take him seriously when he comes to hunt them down.

“Don’t be such a bonehead.” Lance counters, as nonsensical and dismissive as ever, and Keith can’t help but shake his head in disbelief this time. Hunk looks similarly frustrated. “I’m serious. It’s not like they’re some uncivilized alien species from an uncharted planet, they’re just people in suits of armor. They have thoughts and feelings just like anyone else, they’ve just been brainwashed by their belief system to repress them unhealthily. They’re not murderers because they enjoy it, they’re murderers because it’s part of the job description. Simple.”

Keith holds his breath, doesn’t dare exhale in fear of the shakiness he knows will accompany his own breath. Fuck. He hates this, hates sitting in on a conversation about him that he’ll never once in his life be invited to participate in. He can’t defend himself, can’t make his own case, he’ll only ever be what they want him to be in their eyes.

And the fact that an idiot like Lance Sanchez thinks of him as something human shouldn’t choke him up the way it is right now. There’s something seriously wrong here.

“Oh, and since when are you an expert on Mandalorians?”

“Look, let’s just get this over with before something goes awry again.” Lance walks into view then, leaning over the table beside Hunk. He fidgets the entire time, Keith can’t help but notice. His hips shift back and forth, his fingertips drum against the table, his foot taps the floor over and over again. He’s antsy, despite the happy-go-lucky attitude he claims to have toward the whole thing. 

Lance slides into the chair beside the other man, pulling a briefcase from somewhere out of Keith’s line of sight and hitching it open. Inside there are bundles of credits, easily twenty times what he’d paid the shop worker to paint Keith’s ship. Keith’s eyes bug in disbelief. “It hasn’t been a very profitable week.”

“Every credit counts.” The man, Hunk, comforts him. Keith leans further over the vent to get a better look, curiosity starting to eat away at him with more intensity than his ire. Lance just looks so unlike himself, hunched over with his head hung low, borderline distraught. “Seriously, Lance, this is gonna make a huge difference to the undercity folk. Clean drinking water, some fresh clothes, maybe even a ticket off of this hell planet to freedom for a few of them.”

“It’s not enough.” Lance grits out, looking up through his lashes to meet Hunk’s imploring gaze. “Not when you’ve got people like my father hoarding enough wealth to save them all. I bet he paid the Mando enough to feed every undercity inhabitant for a month .”

Keith is starting to piece together what’s happening here, despite the fact it doesn’t align with his expectations at all. They aren’t… they’re not trading dark services in exchange for blood-covered bills, not exploiting their wealth to take advantage of the poor. Whatever they’re doing here, it’s nothing like those men in the corner of the club.

Damn it, what did they say Lance was doing… stealing from the rich to give to the poor, inspiring a revolution, an uprising in the lower levels of Coruscant against the powers that bind the poorer residents… it seemed like a joke at the time, Keith hardly paid it any mind, but suddenly it’s all he can think about. It all makes sense now, how willing the people are to come to Lance’s defense, even at the expense of their own safety.

“I don’t doubt it.” Hunk shrugs, settling a hand on Lance’s shoulder to give it a reassuring squeeze. It doesn’t brighten Lance up any, he still looks just as defeated. “Patience. You can’t build a city in a day, you can’t form a rebellion overnight.”

“How am I meant to make a difference across the galaxy when I’ve been on this planet for weeks with no results?!” Lance throws his hands up in the air before slamming them down against the table. He doubles over forward, burying his face into his palms with a long sigh. Beside him, Hunk watches him closely, looking more concerned than ever.

“Speaking of which…”

“ No .”

“Lance, please, at least consider leaving. Just until the heat dies down. Leave a trail for your father’s minions to follow in the wrong direction and then circle back here.” Hunk is speaking fast now, desperate to say his piece before Lance interrupts him and rejects the entire idea. “I don’t wanna see something happen to you. I couldn’t do this without you. You’ve got a lot of people relying on you, don’t let your arrogance be your downfall.”

“What’s he got? A fancy sniper and a tough suit of armor?” Lance scoffs, leaning his chair back on its hind legs and bracing his boots against the edge of the table. Hunk shoots him a displeased look, but there’s fondness beneath it, a brotherly sort-of bond in the way they interact. Keith finds himself relating to it in a way he isn’t exactly comfortable with. He hates applying emotions to his work. “I could smoke him from 200ft away. He’s got nothing on me.”

“Please.” Hunk repeats, sounding tired this time, like they’ve had this conversation a hundred times already throughout their friendship. Lance does give the impression of someone who doesn’t care nearly as much for his own safety as he does for others. “For me?”

“I won’t stay away long.” Lance relents, avoiding eye contact purposely.

“That’s fine, just for a little while until he leaves the planet. I can work on finding you a new place to lay-low when you get back. We can change your name again.”

“I like this name. It makes me feel cool.” He’s downright pouting now, his bottom lip poked out a little further than the top one, his eyes looking wetter than usual. Hunk leans into his side, slinging an arm around his shoulders to give him an awkward side-hug. Lance leans into the embrace with a long sigh, burying his face into Hunk’s neck.

“Fine.” Hunk chuckles. “Where are you headed then, Lance McClain?”

“Somewhere no sane man would ever dare to go.” Lance lifts his head, grinning stupidly, two bold dimples showing in his cheeks. Keith isn’t sure why, but his hand curls into a fist at his side, held so tightly it almost hurts. “Tatooine.”

“I swear, Lance, if you’re thinking what I think you’re-”

“Ah, come on, I swing by the late Jabba’s palace, rescue a few damsels in chains and steal my weight in treasure. What can go wrong?”

“Literally everything!” Hunk blows up, jumping to his feet. He’s quick in his panic, but not nearly as quick as Lance, who effortlessly twirls out of his reach and dances around the room. Keith notes how graceful he is on his feet, flighty like someone with training in close combat. He watches as Lance jumps up onto the table in one smooth leap, perfectly balanced as he settles on the balls of his feet.

Hunk looks exasperated more than anything else. “You have got to be the stupidest man I’ve ever met.”

“Yeah, yeah, you won’t be saying that when I come back to share my riches with you.” Lance shrugs, throwing his hands up behind his head and stretching. He tilts his head back and Keith can hear his neck crack from here. For a brief second when Lance looks up, he almost worries he’s been spotted through the grates, but he glances away just as quickly. “Hey? When the Mando checks out?”

“Mhm?” Hunk groans, annoyed before Lance even finishes his statement.

“Give him a bottle of wine on me, something expensive, so he’ll feel bad about wasting it and instead he’ll store it away for months until some night when he’s desperate to feel something and he spite-drinks the whole bottle in one sitting.”

“You’re a sick man, McClain.” 

“They say it runs in my family.” Lance grins devilishly, winking at him. With that, he jumps down from the table and pulls Hunk into another hug, this one lingering for a long moment. Long enough that Keith feels that same pang of familiarity, longing in his chest that he doesn’t quite understand. “Seeya, Hunk.”

“Until next time, McClain.” Hunk replies with a nod, his smile broad and genuine as he watches Lance waltz out of the room. Keith debates kicking the vent out and jumping down to run after him, but he doesn’t want Hunk to be there when that happens… because it puts him at more risk for having security called on him. That’s why. Definitely not because he can’t stand the thought of seeing the heartbreak he’s about to cause in action.

Not just Hunk, but everyone depending on Lance, every single life he’s made a difference in… Keith’s taking it away from all of them in one fell swoop. For what? A handful of credits? He’ll spend them on some ship upgrades that’ll end up just as toasted as the rest of his ship come his next fight. Fuck. 

He waits until Hunk leaves the boardroom to shimmy his way out of the vent, but the moment he’s out he’s quick on his feet to track Lance down. With a fresh set of footprints in the carpet, it’s easy enough for Keith to use his helmet to follow Lance’s lead. He’s careful not to end up spotted by anyone that might alert his bounty ahead of time. 

Keith finds himself leaving the hotel through a back entrance, greeted by a looming dark alleyway that smells of half-decomposed food and piss. Keith shifts through it quickly, feeling disgusted as the trail in front of him grows warmer and warmer. He can see heat radiating from the fresher footprints, knows he must be getting awfully close, close enough that-

He goes down like a back of bricks when someone jumps from an overhead fire-escape and lands on his shoulders. He hadn’t been expecting it at all, there was no time to prepare. One moment he was squinting ahead at the fading trail and the next he was toppling to the ground with fingertips prying at the seams of his armor, trying to hit him where it’ll actually hurt.

Keith rolls them both easily once they’re on the ground and manages to get his knife out, just in time for it to clash against Lance’s own dagger inches from his throat. Keith snarls, using his full strength to push back against Lance as his dagger grows closer and closer to him.

He hitches his legs around Lance’s middle and manages to roll them again, this time ending up on top in the last moment. He brings his palm down against the nape of Lance’s neck, pushing his face into the dirt and juggling his knife into position against his throat. He’s breathing heavily, adrenaline rushing through his veins, and he feels the slight slip of his knife before the warmth of fresh blood spills over his knuckles. 

Disgusted with himself, Keith wrenches his hand back, and in that split second of hesitation Lance gets his feet under him enough to buck Keith’s weight off of him. Keith lands on his ass in a pile of garbage bags and Lance is off like a light, sprinting down the alley toward the well-lit street ahead of them.

Keith bolts upright to take off after him, running as fast as he can, panting with exertion as he slowly closes in on the retreating form ahead of him. Lance is quick, quicker than most people he pursues on foot like this, but it’s a losing game and they both know it. So when Keith finally pounces on him, Lance already has a knife ready, and it stabs between the plates of Beskar covering Keith’s torso and sinks into his side. 

Keith shouts in shock, pinning Lance against the dirt rather than bracing himself against the pain. It’s miserable, the cutting of steel into flesh, but he doesn’t back down as his hand wraps around Lance’s throat right where it’s cut and grips tight enough to restrict airflow.

Soon enough, Lance realizes the position he’s in, and his grip on the knife slackens and he stops struggling all at once. He goes limp, staring defiantly up at Keith through those long lashes of his, pouting even harder than he had in the boardroom when Hunk sent him away. 

Keith pants to catch his breath, his side aching something fierce where the knife still rests in his flesh, and beneath him Lance glares all the while. God, he’s never seen someone look so petty about being caught, and he literally does this for a living. Lance really thought he could outrun him, didn’t he?

“It’s true what they say about you Mandalorians, you are quite persistent.” Lance says, voice choked with Keith’s hand still settled so tightly around his throat. Keith huffs, sitting upright a little, careful to keep his full weight on Lance’s body so he won’t be able to slip away again. Sneaky bastard.

“It’s over, Lance, there’s no getting out of it this time.” Keith tightens his grip again, pressing the pad of his thumb into Lance’s Adam’s apple enough that it has to hurt, especially with the fresh shallow cut there. “Surrender. Go willingly and make this easier on yourself. Unless you want to be frozen in carbonite for the foreseeable future?”

Lance doesn’t say a word, just averts his eyes and stubbornly refuses to meet Keith’s gaze. That’s the closest thing to a surrender Keith can hope to see from him though, so Keith relents enough to reach into his hip sling and pull out a pair of familiar cuffs. Lance’s eyes widen comically at that, before quickly narrowing into an emotionless glare. Even now, he’s layering the tough guy act on thick.

“Tell me, did he pay you in advance? Or do you have to show him my body to get the credits?”

“He wants you alive.” Keith expects to see a shred of relief in Lance at that, but instead his face pales noticeably, and he looks more distraught than Keith has ever seen him. It throws him for a loop. He can’t help but feel uncomfortable by how unpredictable Lance is proving to be.

“Do me a favor? Shoot me right here in the dirt instead. I can think of a few people that would pay you handsomely enough to make up for my father’s lost payment.”

“My deal is with your father, not them.” Keith rolls his eyes, propping Lance up with a knee at the base of his spine, careful to keep his grip while he angles Lance’s wrists together behind his back. His heart is still racing from the chase, but he can’t afford another lapse in judgment now. “You’re coming in alive.”

“Alright, alright, easy on the goods.” Lance grunts under his breath when Keith’s knee applies a bit more pressure, a silent warning not to try anything as Keith lets go of him to fit the cuffs around his wrists. He can’t help but notice the way Lance squirms, wordlessly adjusting his hands to a more comfortable position, one that won’t leave his arms cramping up if he’s in the cuffs for any amount of time. Huh, maybe he’s not as good at evading hunters as he likes to let on he-

Lance looks back at Keith over his shoulder suddenly, mustering a wink that’s ripe with implication, even shimmying his shoulders enough for the cuffs to clink at his wrists. “You see them use these in one of the pornos I bought ya? Got you feeling creative?”

“Shut-up or I’ll find you a gag too.”

“Kinky.” Lance jokes, and with that Keith gets to his feet and hoists Lance up after him. He’s not even going to entertain this conversation, or any form of conversation. He’ll treat this the same way he always treats a bounty, he’ll walk him back to the ship in silence and leave him be until they reach their destination. He has no intention of ever getting to know any of his bounties, least of all this one.

“Walk.” Keith deadpans, shoving Lance ahead a step. Lance doesn’t fall into line ahead of him though, he drags his feet, nearly tumbling over if it weren’t for Keith’s grip on his arm.

“I was really hoping you’d carry me. My feet could use a break, I’ve been running through your mind all day, you know.” Lance turns to grin at him, to which Keith’s boot darts out to kick him in the back of the leg. Lance yowls, stumbling forward and hurriedly righting himself before he hits the ground. The look he shoots Keith is withering, absolute betrayal displayed plainly on his features. “Ow! You dick!”

“ Walk .” Keith repeats, with more emphasis this time. Still, it almost catches him by surprise when Lance actually listens and starts ahead of him. He might complain all the while, but Keith is determined to ignore him, as they walk through the dark late-night streets and earn themselves a few curious stares.

They make their way back to the shop harboring Keith’s ship in relatively good time. Keith is surprised by the lack of escape-attempts on the way, if he’s being honest. For the most part, Lance is agreeable as Keith leads him, despite what his words would suggest. He never shuts up the entire time, nonstop nonsensical chatter. It ranges from complaints to taunts to woefully depressing attempts at garnering Keith’s pity. None of it earns him a response from Keith.

The shop is quiet when they slip through the door, but that’s not surprising considering the late hour. 

If anything, Keith is hopeful that they won’t run into the owner and he’ll be able to climb in his ship and take off. He’s already paid for the work, if he can avoid the social aspect he will. Especially considering the mouthy brat walking ahead of him. He doesn’t trust Lance to bite his tongue around people.

They head toward the flight bay and the moment they walk into the open space, Lance breaks down into a fit of giggles. Even before he says a word, Keith has a pretty good idea of what’s coming. Keith doesn’t wait for the comment, he grabs Lance’s arm and starts hauling him ahead with more force. Lance stumbles, but he keeps step anyway, and he doesn’t fucking shut-up even then.

“Oh, look at it! It turned out so lovely!” Lance says excitedly, looking up at Keith’s ship where it looms ahead of them. Bright, bright pink. Keith can hardly stomach to look at it, his jaw clenched in annoyance as he moves toward the docking ramp. He starts up it, dragging Lance behind him, immediately aware of the new presence when the shopkeeper slips quietly into the room to observe them.

Before Keith even has a chance to acknowledge them, Lance is already shouting in their direction with the lack of filter Keith had expected from him. “You did a wonderful job! Your work is amazing, I see why you do this for a living. If anyone ever needs work done, I’ll send them your way!”

Damn it. 

Sympathy dawns in the shopkeeper’s eyes immediately and Keith knows where this is going, knows that Lance probably planned it this way to give him one more obstacle. He doesn’t want to start another fight tonight, but if this man tries to stand in his way and keep him from doing his job he’ll do what he must.

“What’s going on, why are you-”

“It’s none of your business.” Keith says firmly, cutting him off before he has a chance to even ask. He doesn’t want to entertain where this is going. He yanks Lance’s arm with more force, pulling him further up the ramp and not waiting for the other party to respond. 

“Wait! You can’t just take him aw-”

“Thank-you for your services, I’ll be leaving now.” Keith says, turning back to the shopkeeper and silently glaring from behind his helmet. He hopes the annoyance radiating off of him right now is enough to make the man look the other way. Surely he won’t put himself out on a limb for Lance, he hardly knows him. No matter how good he seems to be at charming people, no one’s stupid enough to risk their safety for a stranger. Especially not with a Mandolorian.

Sure enough, the man takes a step backward, looking torn up about it.

“I’ll be fine, Stan! Don’t worry about me, it’s best you don’t get involved!” Lance shouts, shocking Keith with the sudden outburst. He hadn’t expected Lance to encourage him to step down, not when he clearly needed help to get out of this situation. Damn it, he plays his act well.

“Alright, if you’re certain?”

“Oh, absolutely.” Lance reassures him further, standing up straighter and then leaning into Keith’s side like they’re old dear friends. Keith can feel the shared body heat where they’re pressed shoulder to shoulder and he tenses up in discomfort. “See this guy? Don’t let him fool you. Underneath all this armor and his generally displeasing disposition, he’s actually a total softie! Couldn’t hurt a fly!”

Fuck this. Keith doesn’t have time to play these games.

“Move!” He snarls, whipping around and shoving Lance away from him with such force that Lance topples into the ship face-first. He hits the ground with a thud and Keith shoves him out of the way as he immediately closes the doors. The shopkeeper is still standing there in shocked confusion when Keith locks it up and turns away.

Lance is where he left him, surprisingly, sprawled on the floor and looking around the cabin of his ship with something akin to curiosity in his eyes. It’s unlike any prisoner he’s ever brought here, normally all he sees is fear and resentment. Yet again, Lance is proving to be different than most bounties. 

“Oh, wow, quite the place you’ve got here.” Lance says finally, turning to him and catching him in the act of staring. He winks yet again. “You do your shopping with the Jawas? Everything in here looks like scrap metal repurposed. We love a frugal shopper.”

“Shut-up.” Keith growls out, charging forward to his weapons cabinet and wrenching it open. He plans on switching out for a smaller gun, something handheld and quick to draw in case Lance tries to pull something on him. He’s completely caught off guard by the empty shelving that greets him. What the-

“You wondering what happened to your fancy-pants weapons? I took them earlier. Kinda funny you’re just now noticing.” Lance chuckles from the floor, finally attempting to peel himself off of it into a sitting position, struggling greatly with his hands behind his back. Keith turns to him in silence, debating how to punish him for this grave misstep.

“Carbonite is looking like a better option by the second.” Keith settles on, stepping toward him. He’s expecting Lance to argue, maybe plead, maybe even flinch away and attempt to slide across the floor to evade him. He isn’t expecting the bittersweet smile of resignation that dawns on Lance’s lips, like he already knew this was coming. Maybe Keith isn’t the first bounty hunter to track him down after all.

He’s not sure why, but when Keith grabs ahold of Lance’s arm and hauls him upright, he doesn’t find himself leading the man toward the freezing chamber. Instead, he leads him to the ladder leading up to the cockpit. He even helps him climb up it, hands bound as they are.

And then, for some reason Keith still can’t puzzle out, he pushes Lance down in one of the copilot chairs and ties him to it. He ties a few knots in silence, confident that it won’t take much to hold him there with his hands tied. Lance doesn’t speak the entire time, Keith waits for it, but it never comes. Perhaps Keith has finally managed to surprise Lance the same way Lance keeps surprising him, by not doing what’s expected of him.

In the end, Keith’s the one to break the silence. “I don’t wanna hear another word.”

“My lips are sealed.” Lance nods his head, but he still isn’t looking at Keith. He seems far away, lost in thought, maybe plotting his next escape attempt. Keith pays it no mind. He turns to the hull instead and settles in the pilot’s chair, sighing tiredly as he starts flicking switches to get the beast in the air.

They’ve barely broken the planet’s atmosphere when Lance’s voice rings out in the otherwise silent room. Keith isn’t exactly surprised, but it still has him cursing under his breath in irritation.

“Must be lonely, cruising around space in this piece of shit. You ever get bored of looking at the same dashboard, the same stars, doing the same thing day in and day out?”

“I said; shut the fuck up .”

“Well, actually, you phrased it a little nicer last time.” Lance argues, and Keith hears him shifting in his seat, no doubt testing his bindings. Keith doesn’t look at him, figures that would only encourage at this point. If Lance wants to carry a one-sided conversation with himself, he can, but eventually he’ll bore of it. Until then, Keith will focus on flying. “Are you a friend of my father’s?”

The question hangs heavy in the air, accusatory in nature. Keith isn’t sure why it feels like such an insult to him, Mr. Sanchez is far from the worst he’s associated with. But the idea that Lance might think they’re friends, anything more than business partners… that Keith might see eye-to-eye with him...

“No.” Keith answers begrudgingly, despite his pact with himself to remain silent.

“ No ?” Keith can’t lie, he gets some level of satisfaction out of hearing the disbelief in Lance’s voice. It’s nice to throw him off his guard when he likes to act like he’s always one step ahead of everyone else. He isn’t nearly as composed as he lets on. “Then why are you doing this? I mean, unless you’re naive or evil, surely you realize you’ve got the good guy cuffed here and the bad guy’s the one handing you cash to line your guilty pockets with.”

Keith doesn’t typically talk morals with anyone, much less his bounties. It’s a dangerous game to play, he knows it well by now. It’s better not to stir the pot, to raise questions and concerns about his lifestyle, to doubt himself. In the end, he’ll be left alone with all the thoughts in his head, when he inevitably hands his bounty in and collects his credits. There’s never been an exception and there never will be.

Morals aside, this is the only way of life he knows. He can’t imagine anything else for himself.

“Because I’m a stone-cold killer. No compassion. No loyalty. No connection to anyone or anything.”

“Oh, look at you, sneaky little devil can accomplish basic eavesdropping.” Lance teases him, and Keith is surprised with himself when an answering smile quirks the corners of his lips, thankfully hidden behind his helmet. “I’ll admit, I didn’t give you enough credit. You’re good at what you do, I imagine you take a lot of pride in it. That doesn’t mean you can’t back out of this deal, though.”

“Mandalorians don’t back out on our word. We hunt our bounty successfully or we die trying.”

“Yeah, but... if you gave your word without knowing the full details of what you were agreeing to, I think it should say somewhere in your code that you can back out. It’s only fair.”

“There’s no room for fairness in a bounty hunter’s life.”

“Edgy.” Lance jokes, sarcasm layered on so thick that even Keith can pick up on it with his limited social skills. He resists the strong urge to spin his chair around and confront the boy, managing to stay staring ahead. “What? Am I supposed to feel bad for the guy actively fucking innocent people over because it’s so hard to do the right thing? Give me a break.”

“You really don’t have a self-preservation instinct in you, do you?” Keith manages through grit teeth, frustration amounting to the point that he might do something he regrets. He’s never had a great handle on his temper and this topic in specific has always bothered him, especially discussing it with outsiders. 

They never understand. How could they understand? They don’t know Keith’s past, they don’t know how helpless he was until the Mandolorians took him in as a foundling. He owes everything to them, he has no right to question the way they live. He wouldn’t be alive at all if it weren’t for them.

“You just said my father wants me alive and that you never go back on your word,” Lance reminds him, his tone taking on a matter-of-fact smugness that Keith hates with a passion. “So? It makes sense that I have nothing to fear here.”

“Alive doesn’t mean unharmed.” Keith blurts out, aiming for intimidating but sounding more petulant than anything else. He’s annoyed he can’t do more to put this jackass in his place. 

“So? What? You’re gonna rough me up a little bit, smack me around while I’m sitting here helplessly bound to the chair?” Lance’s voice drops lower, much lower than he normally speaks. It’s startlingly smooth how his voice switches on a dime, from loud and argumentative, to something quiet and intimate. Somehow the latter has Keith wanting to throw hands more than the first. “Be my guest, buddy, normally I have to pay extra for that with a whore.”

“You’re disgusting.”

“I am not, you’re just a prude.” Lance counters easily, right back to normal, like that exchange from a moment ago had never even happened. Keith can’t wrap his head around it. His hair’s still standing on end along his arms, his heart racing. Why is it so easy for Lance to bounce back from that? “You know something, you’re not the first man my father’s sent after me.”

“I figured as much.”

“Aren’t you curious what happened to the other ones?” Lance presses with more intent, and Keith can’t deny that he is, so he doesn’t respond. He bites his tongue and stays silent, which in a way is an answer of its own. “I made each and every one of them an offer they couldn’t refuse and they set me free.”

“There’s no offer you can make that’s worth more than my pride.”

“No?” It doesn’t take a genius to figure out that Lance is anything but convinced. “Pride is a hollow thing, it doesn’t keep you warm at night, doesn’t fulfill a person the same way accomplishments and memories do. You can keep your ironclad grip on your pride until the day you die, but what will you really have to show for it? You’ll be an empty, unsatisfied man who lived an unfulfilling life to keep face and impress people he never once cared about.”

This time Keith can’t stop himself, he slams a hand down against the dash and spins around in his chair with a low lumbering growl of sorts. He spreads his legs wide and drops his hands onto his knees, leaning forward to wager a death glare at Lance, hoping it translates from behind his helmet.

“You don’t know me, stop acting like you do.” Keith threatens, only for Lance to mirror him as best he can and lean forward in his own seat. It’s a sad sight, with his hands bound behind his back, but it’s clear enough that he’s standing up to Keith rather than shrinking away.

“Tell me, Mando, are you satisfied with the life you’re living? Don’t you ever second-guess it?”

“I don’t have a choice.” Keith whispers, fingernails digging into his knees through the thick pants he’s wearing, no doubt leaving crescent indents in his skin with the force he’s gripping with.

“I’m giving you one right now.” Lance shrugs his shoulders, lithe and easy, like he isn’t strung-up like an animal in a snare. “You could do what’s expected of you for the hundredth time... but what has it really given you up until this point? A headache, a heartache, a few broken bones and some bruises. Or, you could do what you want to do.”

“You seem awfully confident that what I want to do right now isn’t blow your brains out.”

“Honestly, I’d rather death than face the brainwashing waiting for me if you take me back there.” Lance says it so easily, with such unwavering certainty, that Keith knows this much is honest at least. Lance might be lying to him about absolutely everything else that’s said here today, but it’s all too clear that Lance would truly choose death over facing his father’s wrath. 

Something about that settles heavy in Keith’s gut, dangerously similar to what one might consider guilt. Keith can’t afford to feel guilt.

Lance leans back in his seat then, addressing Keith with a curious once-over. Keith can practically hear the gears in his mind turning as he tries to take him apart with his eyes, break through the walls he has built around himself and see something real buried beneath beskar. “Something tells me that’s not really what you want from me though. So? Come on, out with it. Pick your poison.”

“What could you possibly have to offer me?”

“Your imagination is the limit, my friend.” Lance counters easily, not one to be easily dissuaded. “Riches? Power? Drugs? Beskar? Hell, a new identity and a chance to start over on a planet where no one will ever bother you again? You name it.”

“Don’t make promises you can’t keep.” Keith scoffs. “This helmet might be a curse, but it’s a blessing in disguise. If I take this off, I’ll never know peace again. My past will always come back to haunt me, I’d rather be ready for it when it comes. Face it, I’ll have a target on my back for the rest of my life.”

“So do I, yet I’ve made a life for myself.” Lance rolls his eyes, easy-like, like this is a casual conversation between friends and his life isn’t hanging in the balance as a bargaining chip. “I don’t live in fear and take the coward’s way out, avoiding confrontation even if it means absolving my morals and my individuality.”

“Fuck you.” Keith laughs, shaking his head ruefully and wondering why he ever bothered to entertain this conversation. Obviously Lance had nothing to offer that would be worthwhile, and that’s even assuming that Keith would go back on his word to begin with, which he wouldn’t. This is a waste of time.

Keith starts to turn his chair back around, ready to set coordinates for Mr. Sanchez-

“Sure, if that’s your official request.” Lance responds belatedly, as easy as ever, and Keith’s world comes to a sudden screeching halt. He freezes, staring unseeingly ahead, face heating up inside his helmet as he picks apart what Lance is offering. 

Lance, on the other hand, doesn’t even pause. He’s unbothered entirely. “You wanna keep the armor on while we do it? It might chafe. Not that I’m not into that, I mean, the whole anonymous identity thing is kinda sexy-” 

“ What ?” Keith snarls out, flustered and cornered and furious because of it. 

“Oh, growl at me a little more, it’s really doing it for me.” Lance laughs, bright and airy, and Keith still can’t fathom whether this is all some kind of joke at his expense or if Lance is really genuinely offering to sleep with him. Keith stares at him in disbelief, trying to figure it out, but Lance is on a tangent now and there’s no stopping him. “Has anyone ever seen you beneath all that garbage?”

“Obviously.” Keith grunts. “I didn’t come out of the womb with Beskar on.”

“You know that’s not what I mean.” Lance drawls out, letting his head fall limply to the side, suiting Keith with a playful little look that does something funny to Keith’s head. “Never? Not even once?”

Fuck this.

Keith spins around in his chair to look out at the stars ahead, trying in vain to ground himself and the rushing blood he can hear in his ears. He’s never had anyone get under his skin this easily, he’s not sure if he’s getting weaker with age or if there’s really something special to this Lance guy. He’s getting the feeling that he came into this hunt woefully underprepared for it.

He doesn’t respond, but he doesn’t have to, Lance has made it abundantly clear by now that he can hold a conversation entirely on his own. 

“Don’t you ever wonder what you’re missing? I mean, the three motivators of the universe are power, money, and sex. Yet you know none of them.” Lance’s voice is soft, softer than he’s ever allowed it to be, and somehow that’s worse. There’s something gentle to it, like he thinks Keith needs to be coddled through this whole topic like the inexperienced kid he is. It bothers Keith, who’s always had a chip on his shoulder about his age and all the things he’s missed out on as a teenager because of the way he lives.

“This is the way.” 

“I can’t tell if you’re selfless or stupid.” Lance answers without a single hang-up, apparently not worried about being respectful to Mandalorian customs whatsoever. “Well, my offer stands.”

“I’m not interested.” Keith insists immediately, his tone firm, leaving no room for argument. This is the end of this topic, it has to be, Keith isn’t sure how much more of this he can handle right n-

“I bet underneath all that armor, your body’s telling a different story.” Lance sing-songs at him, voice so smooth it feels like a caress, absolutely dripping with intent. Keith can’t help himself, he immediately glances down the line of his body to his lap, pleased to see there’s nothing noticeable showing there. 

Not that he expected there to be! He’s not… he’s not interested in this offer. He’s definitely not interested in the idiot behind him, that much is for certain. It’s just sometimes his body isn’t on the same page as his mind and it’s been a long time since anyone has propositioned him like this. Hell, it might be the first time anyone’s been this bold about their intentions.

“Not. Interested.” Keith repeats, his anger palpable behind the words now. 

“Aw, sweetheart, you don’t have to play that tough-guy game with me. I know it must be hard , denying yourself the way that you do.” Lance chuckles, infuriatingly amused by this whole thing. “Deprived of touch for so long, never knowing the warmth of another, never truly knowing ecstasy... you poor, poor thing. Maybe I’ll give you a handy for free, yeah? Before you send me off to my untimely demise, a little something to remember me by because I feel bad for you.”

“I don’t want your fucking pity!” Keith shouts, slamming his hands down against the dashboard and sending alarms blaring when he presses one too many buttons at once. He doesn’t care, as he gets to his feet and whirls around to face Lance. He points a glove-covered finger in Lance’s direction and Lance doesn’t even flinch, the bastard’s still grinning like he’s somehow won this.

“What are you gonna do? Beat me?” Lance taunts, batting his long eyelashes in Keith’s direction. In a momentary lapse of judgment, Keith finds himself marching closer to the enemy. He looms over Lance, then grabs a fistful of his hair and yanks his head back to force him to stare him in the face. He doesn’t miss the little hitch in Lance’s breath, nor the way his pupils go wide with intrigue as they stare up into the face of Keith’s helmet.

Fuck. How much of what Lance says is a joke at Keith’s expense and how much is true?

Does he actually… like this? The rough-handling? 

Keith lets go of him like he’s been burned, taking a stumbling step toward the ladder. He’s desperate to put space between them, desperate to ignore the heat coursing through his veins bordering on molten the longer he looks at his prisoner. Fuck, fuck, fuck-

“You’re a vagrant street rat. A low-life thief. I don’t envy you. I should kill you for implying I do.” Keith snaps at him, trying in vain to get some of his control over the situation back.

“Go ahead, kill me right here, right now. With your bare hands.” Lance taunts wickedly, a smirk on his lips that reads as downright dangerous. “It’ll be the first real decision you’ve made in your entire life, pussy .”

“Asshole.” Keith doesn’t linger to hear his response, he flicks the ship into autopilot and undoes everything he’d done before, then he’s out of there. He turns to the ladder and jumps down to the hull below. He needs to clear his head, needs to calm down. He can’t fathom why this bounty is getting to him the way that he is, but he can’t afford to mess this up. He needs these credits, damn it, otherwise his ship might not last through another hunt. 

He gathers his medical supplies and unfastens his chest plate, pulling up his shirt to get a good look at where Lance had stabbed that dagger into him. His shirt is soaked through with blood, but the wound itself isn’t nearly as bad as he’d expected. It’s deep, but it’s not very big, so it’s easy for him to clean and bandage it. 

Once all’s said and done, wounds cared for and armor back on, Keith finds himself staring at his reflection in the mirror. The helmet he’s seen countless times before is the same as always, but Keith knows if he were to lift it up and look himself in the face… he wouldn’t like what he saw.

He can feel the heat in his cheeks, he knows he’s blushing. He’s sure his eyes are just as blown-black with desire as Lance’s were, though he’d take that information to his grave before he’d ever admit to it. And here, alone with his thoughts, he can’t deny that Lance’s offer does appeal to him. He’d never take him up on it, especially not with his title on the line, but in another life… well, there’s no use thinking about it, is there? It’s not happening. It’s not. Keith won’t let it, no matter how much his body is trying to convince him to rethink that.

Fuck. Lance really had hit the nail on the head. Keith can’t remember a time in his life when physical touch was commonplace in any form, it’s so alien to him now that it almost unnerves him, the thought of feeling bare skin against his own in any context. But in the same way it terrifies him, it intrigues him, makes something akin to longing bloom in his chest. Fuck.

A sudden crash from over his head draws Keith’s attention away from his questionable thoughts. He shakes his head immediately, knowing exactly what he’s about to walk into. Still, he turns and heads for the ladder. He’s almost looking forward to teasing Lance’s sorry ass when he finds him face-down on the floor with the chair still tied to him.

Halfway up the ladder, Keith starts calling out to him.

“I knew you were stupid, but surely you didn’t try to wiggle your way out of those energy c-”

A boot connects with Keith’s helmet and his grip on the ladder goes slack. 

He topples to the floor, dead weight, and Lance falls gracefully on top of him a moment later with an accompanying punch right to his newly-bandaged wound. It knocks the breath from Keith’s lungs, but he forces himself to dodge before Lance can clink the energy cuffs around his wrists.

“Eat shit, you jackass.” Lance shouts, the flirty voice from earlier long gone, replaced by something fierce in its determination. This is the escape attempt Keith was waiting on, but he struck when he was least expecting it, after lulling Keith into a sense of false security with his begging.

Keith attempts to fight him off, but it’s a losing battle, and soon enough he finds himself pinned bodily to the floor with Lance leaning into his face. “You wanna know something? You’re not special for being self-sacrificing. You’re not the first bounty hunter to reject my offer, kind as it is. There’s been others before you and they all met the same fate because they couldn’t swallow their damn pride .”

“You expect me to believe you ever followed through on your promises?”

“Always. I’m a man of my word.” Lance actually looks a little bit offended by Keith’s doubt in him, even as he hikes his knee up and drives it down into Keith’s sternum. “There were even ones like you who came wearing beskar that wanted something for themselves and weren’t too cowardly to ask for it.”

“Oh yeah? And what did they want?” Keith grits out, his helmet knocking against the floor behind his head with a dull thud. Lance shakes his head, looking at him with that same pitying squint.

“What does it matter what they wanted?” He asks, shrugging his shoulders. “What do you want?”

“Nothing.” Keith insists stubbornly. He’ll never admit to wanting anything, much less from this man.

“I’m giving you a second chance, idiot, it doesn’t have to end like this. All you have to do is work with me, where’s your sense of self-preservation?” Lance leans over him, until all Keith can see through the glass of his helmet is that pleasantly flushed face staring him down critically. Pathetically, even the weight of Lance’s body on his crushing him against the floor is making him feel something now.

Longing. So much fucking longing. God, why are there so many layers between them still? It’s Keith’s own doing and he stands by it, but damn if he doesn’t hate himself for it right now.

It doesn’t help that Lance seems to be realizing it too, his eyes trailing down between their bodies and noticing where the bulk of his weight is settled. Maybe Keith’s gone too still, gone too quiet, but he hopes he isn’t being a dead giveaway. Even worse, he hopes his body isn’t giving him away, even if it is a losing battle to try and control himself with Lance shifting around on top of him. 

He can’t do this, he’s gotta get out of here somehow.

“Oh? Mando? Is that another gun in your pants or have you changed your mind?” Lance speaks up suddenly, and Keith knows he isn’t hard, at least not fully… but it’s still enough to have him pathetically trying and failing to shrink away from Lance’s weight. Lance cackles evilly, smirking down at him. “Come now, there must be some kind-of deal we can work out here?”

Lance is staring intently at him and Keith has half a mind to say something stupid, but in the end he does something stupid instead. He grabs the nearest object and biffs it toward the carbonite chamber, and suddenly it hisses to life and starts spitting out freezing carbonite into the hull.

It’s a last-ditch effort, self-sacrificing if they don’t manage to turn it off in time. But Lance is just terrified enough by the possibility that he jumps off of Keith and rushes to the button, slamming his hand down against it to turn it off. Keith uses that moment of distraction to his advantage.

He’s behind Lance in a split second, plastering his front against Lance’s back and using his full weight to push him into the designated chamber for cryo-freezing. Lance struggles immediately, using his full strength to shove and elbow back at Keith. 

“You’ve been nothing but a giant pain in my ass since this hunt started. Fuck this, I’m freezing you and I’ll hand you over to your father bricked.” Keith snarls, reaching for the button again, determined to press it and get this jackass out of his hair. He’s messing with his head, he can’t risk messing this up. It’s better this way, to hand him over lifeless and frozen in carbonite, Keith won’t feel a shred of anything for him.

But it’s easier said than done, the bastard is slippery and far stronger than he looks. They grapple for a long while, every time one garners the upper hand the other is quick to steal it back. They hit wall after wall, before eventually losing balance and ending up wrestling on the floor again. 

Keith is sore and tired to his core, and Lance doesn’t seem to be faring much better, but stubbornness alone means neither one is willing to give up. They just start fighting progressively dirtier the longer it goes on, even resorting to biting and clawing at every inch of exposed skin. Animalistic.

So maybe it shouldn’t come as a surprise when Lance’s fingertips dig into his neck, his nails blunt but sharp nonetheless as he digs them in to soft flesh. It does though, and it comes as even more of a surprise when those fingers slip and inadvertently press into the little scanners inside the rim of Keith’s helmet, disengaging it and-

The helmet hits the floor with a heavy thud.

“Ha! Take that, bitch!” Lance shouts triumphantly. Keith barely registers it though, too startled by how bright the room is suddenly, by how loud and clear Lance’s voice is without the helmet muffling it. He flips over onto his stomach the moment the helmet’s off of him, hiding his face under his arms as he desperately tries to figure out where his helmet fell.

Lance doesn’t pounce on him to attack again, but he lingers close-by, reading for the moment Keith makes his next move. Keith can’t move. He’s paralyzed. “What? Too shy to fight back? Are you that hideously ugly under that helmet?”

“ Stop .” Keith manages weakly, as Lance lands a weak punch to his shoulder. He flinches away from it instinctively, not even bothering to try and fight back. He feels so exposed, he can hardly breathe.

“What? You were threatening to brick me a moment ago, you think I care about your modesty enough to spare your life right now?” Lance laughs cruelly, very plainly still pissed off from all the low-blows Keith had pulled during the fight. Keith doesn’t care anymore, he buries further into himself and tries his best not to panic. This is it for him. Once someone sees him without the helmet he’s never allowed to put it back on. He’s just ruined everything.

“Then kill me, damn it! What are you waiting for?!” Keith shouts suddenly, running his fingers through his hair and tugging on it to try and ground himself. He waits for the finishing blow, but it never even comes. Lance doesn’t even attempt to attack him, he just stays there, sitting a few feet away. “Do it!”

“No.” Lance says suddenly, like he’s only just now made the decision on what he wants to happen here. A weight settles on Keith’s back a moment later, but it isn’t Lance’s full body, and it isn’t even an attempt at hitting him. It’s just a widespread hand between his shoulder blades. If he didn’t know any better, he’d think that Lance is trying to comfort him?

 “Turn over.” The words somehow manage to shock Keith more than any of the other low blows Lance has dealt since meeting him. This just feels exceptionally cruel, like kicking Keith when he’s already downed. How the hell is he meant to recover from this? He’s lost the fight, damn it, just end it already.

“Are you that determined to strip me of my pride before I die? Can’t even let me have peace in death?!”

Keith pants heavily, hunched inward, his heart a fluttery flighty thing in his chest. This is the first time anyone has seen him without a helmet on since he was a child, he can’t remember ever feeling so helpless before. He’s completely at the mercy of Lance, there’s no use fighting back, even if he were to win now his pride wouldn’t let him put the helmet back on. 

Besides, it’s hard to imagine fighting when he’s so exposed. He’s lost the will completely.

And Lance’s hand is still there, settled on his back, a steady weight that Keith can’t ignore no matter how he tries to focus on literally anything else. 

“Let me see you.” There’s a certain layer of irony in Lance asking so much of him with such a gentle tone, coaxing and pleasant, almost polite in its patience. How can he ask Keith to give up the last shred of his pride? What choice does he really have here, why bother asking at all? He might as well just push him over and take a look for his damn self.

Still, he doesn’t, and as the moment stretches on the anxiety growing in Keith’s chest borders on unsurmountable. He focuses on the steady deep breaths Lance is taking, focuses on the quiet creak of metal shifting as his ship soars through space, focuses on literally anything other than the cool fresh air against the nape of his neck. His hair is damp, sticking to his skin, no doubt sticking up in every direction like it normally does when his helmet comes off. 

The sad truth of it is… even in private, Keith hardly ever takes the helmet off. It’s become less of a pride thing, more of a comfort. He doesn’t recognize the man that stares back at him, did all of his growing with a wall of beskar hiding him from view. He looks at his bare face and he sees the child he once was before the Mandolorians took him in, just a frightened lonely boy with no hope for a future.

He can’t look him in the eye. Can’t admit to himself all he’s had to sacrifice to distance himself from that hopelessness. He won’t go back there.

“Mando-” Keith doesn’t wait to hear the rest of whatever he’s gonna say this time. It doesn’t really matter, nothing will get him out of this situation. One way or another, Lance is gonna get what he wants, and Keith isn’t about to let him think for a moment he has the upper hand in this situation… even if he does.

Keith bolts upright and whips around to face him in one smooth movement, so quick that it earns a noticeable flinch from Lance. It’s a small win, but Keith takes it nonetheless, as he wildly stares down the man who’s stripped him of his pride and his title. He can’t fucking believe it was this idiot, out of every opponent he’s faced. This is the one to undo him.

“Happy, now?” Keith spits, seething, more angry than he’s ever been in his entire life. Lance doesn’t respond, he’s still staring with that dumbfounded look on his face. Fuck knows what he was expecting to find underneath that helmet, but it’s clear that Keith isn’t meeting expectations. “Well? This is the first time you’ve been quiet since I met you. Aren’t you gonna mock me? Gloat that you’re the only one to ever see me and that you’ll be the last as well because I’ve led such a cowardly life ?” 

Lance’s face screws up into an expression Keith’s never seen before on him, something akin to disgust.

“Do you seriously still think I’m a villain? After all of this?!” Lance is strangely emotional about this, like Keith has genuinely hurt him with the accusation. Keith wants to argue right back, meet him with that same viscious tone, but he doesn’t know what to say. He’s at a loss. If Lance’s plan isn’t to exploit this over his head, then what the fuck does he want from him? Why ask him to show his face at all?

Lance deflates eventually, his scowl giving way with a long sigh. He looks tired, like he’s the one who’s lost this fight and is struggling to come to terms with it. 

After a moment, he shifts closer across the metal paneling of the floor. Keith tenses, prepared to dodge or block a punch… but it never comes. Lance gets into his space, leaves less than a foot between them where they sit there facing each other, but he never tries to attack and therefore Keith has no reason to. 

It’s almost worse, sitting there staring at each other, being stared at so heavily and knowing that Lance is seeing him, really seeing him. When Lance reaches toward him, Keith instinctively moves to slap his hand away, despite the slow rate it’s moving at. He hesitates in the last moment, hand resting on Lance’s wrist, not pushing him away but instead warning him. Lance doesn’t stop. He keeps reaching forward. Keith doesn’t stop him either. A hand settles on Keith’s throat. 

It… doesn’t choke him out. It stays there, soft and lingering, knuckles pressed to his pulse point.

“What?” Keith growls out through his teeth, feeling naturally defensive. Lance isn’t even looking him in the eye anymore, he’s plainly distracted. He looks lost in thought, like the moment’s gotten the better of him and he’s forgotten who Keith is entirely now that the helmet isn’t there to remind him.

“Your heart’s beating so fast.” Lance whispers, sounding perplexed by the realization. 

“What do you want from me?” Keith repeats, somehow angrier this time, the longer Lance draws this out and tries to lull him into a sense of false security. If Lance is going to make him beg for his life, if he’s expected to strike some kind of bargain to get out of this, then damn it he’d rather know now than later. 

“I asked you first.” Lance counters, easy, a smirk stretching across his face that Keith feels all too tempted to punch off of it. He glares daggers at him, hands curling into fists at his sides as his temper grows.

“Fuck you.” Keith snaps at him, trying to prompt something familiar. At least if they were fighting still, he wouldn’t have to think about the vulnerability of this moment. He wouldn’t have to wonder what Lance is thinking while he looks at him like that. All intrigued and amused. What does he see in Keith’s face that brings that sly little smile to his lips?!

“Mhm, I already said you could. However you want it, baby.” 

Keith blinks. Lance goes right on smiling, wide and unwarranted, like he’s won something here.

“Don’t fucking mock me!” Keith roars finally, launching forward in a fit of fury and tackling Lance into the floor. He crowds over the other man, winds his arm back to throw the first of many punches, but when he looks to the face in due need of punching… there’s still a fucking smile staring back at him. Lance is grinning harder now, if anything.

“I’m not!” Lance says, or rather laughs, a bubbly comment made between broken chuckles. Keith can’t wrap his head around it, his fist slowly lowering back to his side. And then he’s just hovering there, weight settled on Lance’s chest, all too aware of the topic at hand now that he knows it isn’t strictly hypothetical anymore. “Don’t tell me you fucks don’t even look at your own reflections?”

“ What ?”

“You’re hot.” Lance says plainly, as straightforward as it gets, like he’s doing Keith a favor by informing him of the fact. Keith feels like his mind has short-circuited since the helmet came off. Maybe he’s in a delusional state of overstimulation after losing his helmet because surely this isn’t fucking happening right now. “It would hardly be a hardship to sleep with you. I don’t even care whether it gets me out of going back to my father or if it’s just a final hurrah before the death that awaits me, but geez, at least entertain the offer. You might be a virgin, but I’m not by any definition, I can make it good for you.”

“W-What? No, I-” Keith clambers backward in a flurry of limbs, desperately putting space between them until he’s settled on the opposite side of the room, back plastered against the wall as his breath comes in ragged pants. Oh god, he can’t be starting to hyperventilate over something as stupid as this, this can’t be happening.

“I won’t tell anyone!” Lance throws his hands up in the air, righting himself into an upright position, and now his hair is as much of a mess as Keith’s. It’s a good look on him, Keith catches himself thinking as much before he can help it. He groans inwardly and throws his head back against the metal ship wall to knock his brain cells back into place. This isn’t happening. “Hell, who would I tell? Who would believe me? We’ll take it to our graves, no one will ever know. Just think about it, this is a prime opportunity for you. If two guys fuck in space when no one’s around to see it, does it even matter?”

“You’re insane.”

“You’re considering.” Lance accuses, pointing a finger at him. Keith doesn’t know what to make of that, he’s stunned into silence. Lance really can carry a conversation entirely on his own, Keith is giving him nothing to work with and yet he keeps fucking going. “Come on, Mando, let yourself have this. We both know you want it.”

“I can’t-” 

“You can. It’s easy, I’ll do the work, you just sit there and look pretty.” Lance says with a shrug, and Keith hates himself for the way a shiver runs down his spine at the words. He can feel the heat building in his veins, can feel his neglected cock stirring to attention between his legs. Come to think of it, he can’t even remember the last time he’d gotten off. Fuck. This is bad.

When Lance starts toward him again, crawling on his hands and knees, his hair falling in his eyes as he saunters over like an animal on the prowl… Keith doesn’t have anywhere left to go and he doesn’t fight it. He stays exactly where he is, wide-eyed and pathetically wanting it despite himself. Lance crowds into his space and Keith stays still, more still than he’s ever been, frozen like a statue.

When Lance places a hand on his knee, Keith tenses even further, but he doesn’t flinch away or fight him off. He stays there, watching in subdued shock as that hand travels down the inside of his thigh, over worn fabric and thick plates of beskar… down to the apex between his legs. 

Lance cups him through his pants and Keith has to bite back the urge to whine .

It’s worse when Lance starts actually moving his hand though, groping at the growing bulge in his pants, smoothing his palm over it with just enough pressure to make Keith’s hips buck up into the touch. Lance wears that shit-eating grin the entire time too, looking entirely too pleased with himself as Keith’s cock fills out under his hand, until he’s wrapping his fingers around the obvious outline in the fabric and stroking him root to tip in earnest. Soon, Keith figures there will be a telltale wet spot blooming through his pants, and he’s not sure he’s ready to give Lance that level of satisfaction. 

“That’s it, just like that. Let go. Feels good, doesn’t it?” Lance coaxes him through it. Keith closes his eyes to avoid acknowledging what’s happening here, but there’s no biting back the noises as Lance works to get him off. He’s rubbing his thumb back and forth over the head of Keith’s cock now, tantalizingly slow as he teases Keith where he’s most sensitive. Keith hates himself for the way his hips buck up into it, hates the way his voice breaks on an actual moan when Lance repays him in kind by grinding his palm down against his cock. 

“Don’t.” Keith says, his voice pathetically shaky. “Don’t say a fucking word.”

“What makes you think I was going to say something, hm?” Lance responds in kind, his voice smooth and controlled, nowhere near as affected by this as Keith is. He stews in his embarrassment, but the shame alone isn’t enough for him to stop this from happening, especially not when it feels so good.

“You always say something. You never fucking shut-up.”

“Rude.” It’s obvious in Lance’s playful tone that he isn’t actually offended, and yet he removes his hand from Keith entirely as some kind of retribution, and Keith could scream. He was just starting to get somewhere, damn it, and if Lance doesn’t want to help him get there he’ll shove his own hand between his legs to pick up where he left off. He’s not picky, he’s not experienced enough to be picky about this sort-of thing. As long as he gets off in the end, he doesn’t really care how it happens.

But before he can throw his legs open and start palming himself, Lance is touching him again. It’s not in the same way, granted, but Keith is surprisingly sated by the soft brush of knuckles against his cheek as Lance strokes his face to garner his attention. Keith blinks his eyes open slowly, reluctantly meeting Lance’s steady, invested stare. 

“What?” Keith sighs, immediately regretting speaking at all when he hears the obvious lust in his own voice. It’s foreign to him, he’s never tried to speak when getting himself off so he’s never heard himself sound like this, voice deep and husky with desire. It’s unsettling. 

“Can I ask you a question?” Lance asks, hand sliding further down, until his fingers are trailing Keith’s jawline and tracing across it with open investment. They scratch through the short stubble there and Keith feels his eyes threaten to flutter closed again, to roll back in his head at the sheer satisfaction of being touched like this. Intimately. 

He hates it. Hates admitting how much he’d been longing for this, how badly he’d started to need it.

Not nearly as much as he loves the relief of finally getting it though, that’s for damn sure. 

“Alright. Ask me.”

“How the hell do I get this shit off?!” Lance comes out with, his voice cracking, all of his cool composure lost in a second. Keith’s eyes blink open again, watching in amusement as Lance gestures to the whole of him, where he’s covered in plates of armor from head to toe. Keith surprises himself again when a gruff, unfamiliar laugh claws its way up his throat. “I’m serious! I’m down to go at it with our clothes on as much as the next guy, dry humping’s kinda hot, but at least let me get the beskar bits off.”

“Take yours off first.” Keith demands immediately, without a shred of hesitation. He won’t be at the disadvantage for a second, he’s setting some ground rules here. This whole thing might be a questionable lapse of judgment, but he’s not going to be an idiot about it. It’s one thing to be bested in a fight and die honorably, it’s another entirely to end up naked and bound by an enemy.

“Is that supposed to be a challenge? I’ll get naked, you don’t even have to ask twice.” Lance responds with ease, apparently lacking the basic self-preservation Keith was born with. Keith isn’t exactly complaining though, he was almost hoping that would go over smoothly. If Lance had argued with him, tried to insist that he had to undress first… Keith isn’t entirely confident he wouldn’t have eventually caved and given in anyway, and that’s not a moment of weakness he’s ready to accept from himself.

Lance is quick about it, stripping his jacket off and whipping it across the room. He undoes the buttons of his shirt so quickly that Keith is surprised he doesn’t hear any of them scatter on the metal floor. Hell, he pulls his belt free of the loops of his jeans so quickly that Keith nearly ends up whipped in the face with the thing.

And then he drops his pants and Keith nearly ends up whipped in the face with something else entirely.

Holy shit. Sure, Keith has seen a limited amount of cocks in his lifetime, but he wasn’t even aware they could be that big. Is his small? He’d never had the concern, but looking at Lance’s standing tall and proud, curved up towards his stomach… Keith’s having to resist the urge to feel self-conscious.

“Well? Think you can work with this?” Even at a moment like this, Lance makes jokes like he’s completely at ease. Keith has to wonder if he’s simply too stupid to feel nervous, or if maybe he’s just a braver man than Keith could ever be. He doesn’t know what to say, doesn’t trust himself to speak, so he bites his tongue and simply shrugs his shoulders. “I know the scars are kinda ugly, but that’s what happens when you’re not wrapped up in as much metal as a damn droid. I’m covered in them.”

Keith tilts his head to the side, finally letting his eyes wander from their original destination to take in the rest of Lance’s body. He’d taken notice of them back at the whore house, but it felt different in this light, like something more personal. Lance’s entire chest is littered in scars. Most of which are long-healed, just little lines of pale pink standing out against deep tan skin. A couple of the wounds look newer, maybe even ones Keith had inflicted during their fight earlier.

“I have some.” Keith says, a tad defensive. If Lance thinks he’s the only one here who’s ever gotten wounded in battle, he’s got another thing coming. Even beskar armor can only protect from so much and Keith has fought unimaginable enemies and walked away from the bleakest of odds. He’s a walking, talking miracle at this point for breathing at all.

“Oh yeah? You wanna show me?” Lance winks at him. “We can compare, see whose is bigger.”

There he goes again, making light of things. Keith doesn’t know how he does it.

“You’re an idiot.” Keith states, but he doesn’t give the insult time to settle before he’s stretching one of his arms out and reaching for the forearm armor plate with his opposite hand. He makes quick work of undoing the armor and moments later it hits the floor with a loud, ringing clang. Keith looks up pointedly and Lance is right there, already staring at him intently.

Keith inhales deeply, trying to muster his courage, but in the end he looks away before he speaks. He’s not quite on the level where he can look someone in the eye without his helmet hiding his expressions, especially not when he’s suggesting what he’s about to. “The ones on my thighs are the same.”

Peeking through his lashes, Keith doesn’t miss the way Lance’s entire face lights up with excitement.

“Noted.” Lance says, rubbing his hands together deviously before moving in on Keith’s legs. Keith tips his head back against the wall and focuses on breathing while Lance’s hands work to undo his armor. He listens to the pieces of armor hit the floor one after the other, but it’s distant, everything is distant compared to the feeling of Lance’s fingers pressing into his thighs. 

His shoulder and chest plates are quick to follow, until he’s sitting there in loose well-worn clothing, feeling entirely too exposed for his liking even with barely any skin at all showing. It doesn’t help that even after his armor is off, Lance doesn’t stop touching him, and yet he makes no move to keep undressing him. It’s like he’s waiting on Keith to say something, but Keith doesn’t know how to, so they’re stuck in limbo while Lance’s deft fingers run up and down Keith’s ribcage like they’re playing a harp. He feels like one, strung-out and at the mercy of those skilled hands.

Eventually, Keith finds himself growing impatient to the point that he decides to try and push things along. He grabs Lance’s wrist and stills his hand, mostly because he isn’t sure his words would make sense with those casual touches distracting him.

“You know, I didn’t think you’d need guidance on how to pull a pair of pants off. Do you want me to walk you through that too?” Keith shoots him an inkling of a smile, hoping he’s catching on to this teasing thing Lance seems to be so good at in this type of scenario. Lance lights up brighter than a star at Keith’s attempt at flirting and that alone makes it worth it. It’s blinding, seeing a genuine smile on his face rather than the smirks he’s been wearing full of false bravado. Those dimples are back with a vengeance.

“Sorry, I got distracted, it’s hard to stay on task with a view like this in front of me.” Lance’s cheeks are growing pinker by the moment and Keith can’t wrap his head around the fact that he caused that. He did that. Lance looks alight with nerves for the first time since meeting him. “I won’t let it happen again.”

“You’d better not.” Keith nods firmly, barely managing to keep from smiling himself. Lance moves closer and carefully reaches for the waistband of Keith’s pants, gingerly sliding them down his legs. In the meantime, Keith tears his undershirt over his head and throws it aside.

“Well, I can’t make any promises. I mean, damn, have you seen yourself? You’re ridiculously attractive, I’m not sure anymore if you wear that hunk of metal on your head to protect yourself, or protect the rest of the universe from your good looks. I mean, if you didn’t wear that, all your bounties would just roll over belly-up and let you take them anywhere, anyway you wanted. I know I would have let you put those cuffs on me a hell of a lot sooner if I knew this is what you looked like under th-”

“Please, for the love of fuck, stop speaking.” Keith blurts out, reaching out before he can think better of it and clasping a hand over Lance’s lips. A moment too late he realizes that this is the first touch he’s really initiated between them that hasn’t been self-defense or offense. Lance’s lips are pressed to his palm so tightly he feels the smile stretch across them long before he gets a chance to see it. 

Keith pulls his hand away immediately, feeling embarrassed about his reaction. He just couldn’t take it anymore, listening to Lance sing praises about his appearance like that. He’s never received much praise in general, it wasn’t exactly common in his line of work, so he’s far from well-equipped to handle it.

“Make me.” Lance says, lifting his brows expectantly.

Maybe it’s the sheer appeal of possibly shutting the idiot up, or maybe it’s something else entirely, but this time when impulse has Keith closing the space between their bodies there isn’t a shred of hesitation to accompany it. He leans forward and Lance meets him halfway, his fingers framing Keith’s jaw as their lips meet in a passionate kiss.

Even inexperience isn’t enough to keep Keith from basking in the moment, from relishing the feeling of plush lips moving against his own, soft and sweet and entirely too tempting to resist. He doesn’t allow himself to overthink it, focuses on the feeling of closeness, the full-body shiver of satisfaction as he shares shallow breaths with the man in front of him.

When Lance pulls back just enough to nip at his bottom lip, Keith grabs him by the throat and forcibly pulls him back in. It might be a tad aggressive all things considered, but Lance is hardly complaining, if anything he’s doing the opposite as he hastily climbs into Keith’s lap like he’s been invited. Hell, maybe he has, Keith can’t bring himself to protest when Lance is suddenly so much closer.

The shared heat between their bare bodies only grows as the kiss gets more intense, open-mouthed and desperate, tongues exploring each other with the same trepidation Keith has seen play out so many times in strangers. It’s something else entirely to be on the receiving end of it, to taste Lance, to meet him with the same growing enthusiasm as they grow more and more comfortable with each other’s bodies and learn what they both like.

Keith is fairly certain he could have spent a lifetime exactly like that, with a lap full of Lance and his mouth blissfully preoccupied with that wicked tongue… but he can hardly mourn the loss, considering how it happens. It plays out with Lance shifting closer, his hands groping at Keith’s chest with growing boldness, until finally he tweaks one of Keith’s nipples between his fingers. Keith tenses in an instant, his hips jerking up in search of friction in a way that definitely should be embarrassing. 

Keith can’t exactly remember to be embarrassed with his bare cock rutting against Lance’s own, though.

“Fuck.” Lance breathes, a noticeable shakiness to his voice. Keith barely registers it, as he selfishly repeats the movement, rocking his hips into Lance’s and nearly sinking his teeth right through his bottom lip in his efforts to stifle his answering noises. He starts up a pattern of it, grinding up against Lance, and eventually the other man starts to meet him with effortless rolls of his own hips at just the right time to have their cocks lining up and slotting together.

It’s too much, Keith knows it is. He’s trembling in overstimulation already, feeling heady with the sheer rush of what’s happening here, drowning in the feeling of skin on skin. After being deprived so long, he ought to ease into this, take things slowly so he doesn’t overdo it. But it’s good, so fucking good, he wants it all. Wants to run his hands all over Lance’s body, wants to feel the weight of him settled over his body, wants to feel him inside. 

Keith throws his head back, gasping when Lance ducks forward to descend upon his neck. From that moment on, it’s a lost cause, Keith can already feel himself slipping from the first drag of that tongue over his Adam’s apple. Lance sucks and bites at the sensitive skin of his neck, leaving his mark while Keith’s cock throbs painfully each time Lance shifts against him.

Really, all things considered, with that mouth working over him and Lance’s heat engulfing him like a flame from head-to-toe, can he really be blamed for the way his control over himself slips through his fingers like sand? One second he’s gritting his teeth against the building pleasure in an effort to ward it off, and then the next he’s moaning brokenly in Lance’s ear while his cock shoots between their stomachs and covers them both in his warm spend.

Keith slumps forward like a ragdoll, burying his face into Lance’s shoulder while he gasps for breath, still riding the high of his sudden orgasm where it’d been all but forced out of him. 

For a long moment, Lance doesn’t speak. It’s actually a little unsettling how still and quiet he is, even more so when he pulls away from Keith’s neck to simply stare at him. Keith stares back, blinking owlishly, trying to decipher the look on Lance’s face. Should he be embarrassed right now? Isn’t it a compliment to Lance, to come so early on? 

Finally, Lance seems to come back to himself with a loud startling laugh.

“Did you seriously just-” Lance pauses, wheezing softly as he fights back his laughter. “Mando! Come on, I haven’t even gotten my hand on you yet, you can’t come already!”

“Why not? I can get hard again.” Keith informs him, just in case he didn’t think him capable. Keith knows for a fact that it’s true, he’s experimented with his own body enough to know that much. Only Lance doesn’t look relieved, if anything he looks more amused. Keith glares, before quickly averting his eyes when he notices movement out of the corner of his eye. He watches in mortification as his cum slowly follows the line of Lance’s toned stomach, sliding between the dips of his abdomen.

“Well, I guess this answers the question of who’s fucking who.” Lance mutters under his breath, but it’s plainly amused, and if it weren’t for what he’d just said Keith might even laugh right along with him. As it is, he’s left staring at Lance like he’s grown a second head. “What? Come on, if you’re this sensitive you won’t last two seconds inside of me. If I’m gonna get fucked, I’d like to actually feel it, thanks.”

Keith feels the slightest bit stupid for not wondering before this very moment how they were actually going to do this. His mouth feels dry as he eyes Lance’s monstrous cock for the second time, giving him a chance to get acquainted with it before it goes in his ass .

“Are you sure we can’t just… keep doing more of this?” Keith says, maybe a little too optimistically. Lance shoots him a look, like he’s just suggested something absolutely stupid. Maybe he has, but he can’t deny the amounting nerves he’s feeling now that he knows who’s going to be on the receiving end of this.

That doesn’t mean he’s about to argue. He can’t deny that it makes more sense to have Lance leading things with his level of experience, no more than he can deny the way his gut still swims with lust at the thought of taking that cock. At this point, he’s a little too desperate to be picky about the specifics.

“I mean, we can, I told you I’m at your mercy once already. Any way you want me.” As much as it’s a joke, it’s clear that Lance is serious in his own way. If Keith really were to say no, Lance would respect that. As much as it would simplify things to paint him as a bad guy, Keith doesn’t get the impression that Lance would ever try to coerce anyone into anything they didn’t want to do. Especially a romantic partner.

“You’re sure it’ll fit?” Keith sighs, like he’s been defeated somehow. Lance lights up, grinning dumbly.

“Mhm, it’ll feel good too.” Lance gives him a thumbs-up, like that’s convincing at all. Keith narrows his eyes at him in a skeptical squint and he relents, taking on a more serious expression. “ I promise .”

Well, that’s gonna have to be good enough for Keith, because sitting here looking at Lance’s naked body, his cock very much still-hard and still-wanting… it won’t be long before Keith’s back in a similar state.

“What do we need? Lube?”

“Something slick and body-safe, doesn’t have to be specific for the task.” Lance suggests, giving Keith an affirmative nod. Keith gets to his feet, hyper-aware of the eyes that follow him across the room while he goes to root in one of his storage drawers. He rummages through his first-aid kit until he eventually retrieves a generic salve. He holds it up in the air for Lance’s approval. “That’ll do.”

With that, Keith pads back over to where Lance is sitting and sheepishly sinks down to his knees beside him. He hands over the salve without comment and Lance immediately twists it open and dips his fingers into it. Three of them at once. Up to the first knuckle. 

Keith swallows hard, mouth feeling dry.

That’s gonna be him in a second. Those three fingers slipping inside of him and working him open, exploring parts of his body he hasn’t even fully explored himself. Nevermind that Lance will definitely know his way around them better, will gloat about that fact with that cocky smirk on his face.

“Where do you want me?” Keith asks, feeling awkward, his arms crossed over his chest.

Lance looks around the ship, no doubt looking for a comfortable place to lay Keith down. He doesn’t have the heart to speak up and let Lance know that he doesn’t have a bed, that he just sleeps in his pilot chair most nights. It’s never bothered him before this moment, but suddenly it seems depressing.

Lance gives up soon enough anyway and without questioning it, kicks their clothes into a pile and nods for Keith to lay on that. Keith does, his nerves amount as he lowers himself into the laundry pile. He doesn’t open his legs, he’s gonna need Lance to coax him through that step separately. He stays as tense and small as he possibly can, staring Lance down like he’s threatening him not to try anything, despite how badly he wants it. He’s not good at this whole giving in to his own wants and desires thing.

“That’s it, lay back.” Lance grins at him, clearly enjoying the view despite Keith’s uneasy stare. It’s actually a little impressive how unbothered Lance seems. “Now maybe try relaxing some, you look like you’re about to kill me if I try to touch you and that’s a little counterproductive for what we’re trying to do here.”

“That’s asking for too much.” 

“Alright, well, I guess it’s a risk I’m willing to take.” Lance muses aloud, moving in close and giving Keith plenty of time to opt out. He doesn’t, he stays frozen where he is and watches Lance approach, his heart positively racing inside his chest. And when those hands settle on his knees and attempt to pry them apart, just the barest amount of pressure… Keith falls back into familiarity in an instant.

He launches forward, wrapping his legs around Lance’s middle and tackling him back to the floor, pinning him there between his legs. Lance stares up at him in shock, the wind clearly knocked out of him, face framed by two pale plush thighs. He hardly looks off-put though, if anything he seems to be fighting the urge to close his eyes and get comfortable where he’s at.

“W-Woah, hey, you know I love your sexy thighs, but I’d rather not die before I get the chance to fuck you at least once. Wanna let me go?” He laughs finally, patting Keith’s knee comfortingly. Keith shrinks in on himself, regret hitting all at once. This isn’t how this is meant to go.

“S-Sorry.” He clambers off of Lance’s chest, feeling embarrassed as he leans back into the clothes. This time, he forces himself to let his legs fall open on either side of him, leaving everything on display when Lance finally rights himself to look at him again. “I’m sorry, I’m not used to this.”

“It’s okay, it was kinda hot, just give me a warning next time.” Lance shrugs, raking his eyes up and down Keith’s body. At the very least, he’s easily distracted, and for that Keith can’t help but feel thankful. It’s not all that hard to read his expressions as they flicker across his face, it’s clear enough that he’s pleased with what he’s seeing. “Damn, look at you .”

He whistles. Low and admiring, under his breath. Keith’s entire body heats up in a flush.

“Don’t.”

“You’re really gonna ask me not to familiarize myself with this sight?” Lance scoffs, playfully rolling his eyes at the thought. Then he reaches out again, settling a hand on the inside of Keith’s thigh. By some miracle, Keith forces himself to sit still, even as that hand travels further and further into uncharted territory. His nerves amount steadily the closer Lance gets to touching him, until he feels like he’s buzzing with restraint, vibrating in place with excitement and anxiousness alike.

Lance’s hand fits around Keith’s cock, loose enough that it barely even gives him stimulation but it’s plenty noticeable… and then his thighs clamp down hard around Lance’s arm. “Seriously?! Again?!”

“Fuck.” Keith groans, hiding his face in his hands. He forces his legs apart and rolls over, burying his face into the pile of clothes. He’s drowning in embarrassment with the way this new position leaves him so exposed, but he can’t calm his nerves no matter what he tries or how badly he wants this. 

He’s never had anyone touch him there , or anywhere nearly this intimate while so indisposed. It’s gonna take some getting used to. “Go ahead, you can touch me.”

“You sure about that? You don’t want me to pin you in place and put those cuffs on you this time?”

“ Lance .” 

“Alright, alright. I’ll give you what you need.” With that, Lance’s hand slides between their bodies and rests at the dip of Keith’s lower back. Even that simple touch is a rush, it sends a thrill down Keith’s spine that translates into something heady and filled with desire. It won’t be long now until he’s hard again, especially when Lance’s touch slowly but surely starts to trail further southward. “Is this okay?”

“I already told you it was.”

“I know, I’m just checking in.” Lance scoffs, those fingertips pressing further, following the line of Keith’s body and dipping between his cheeks to rub across the rim of his hole. Keith tenses against that particular touch, but he forces himself to try and relax. Lance doesn’t rush it either and he can’t tell whether that’s a blessing or a curse, as those fingers rub back and forth over his pucker, until it’s so infuriatingly slicked-up that he thinks he might be able to take them all at once.

“Does it seriously take this long or are you trying to be gentle with me?”

“I’m trying to be a considerate partner like I am with anyone I sleep with, thank-you very much.” Lance punctuates his statement by applying pressure and sinking one finger into Keith’s body up to the hilt. It doesn’t hurt, but it’s far from pleasurable, settling somewhere in uncomfortable territory. Needless to say, Keith is suddenly very certain that he couldn’t take them all at once. “ Is that okay with you ?”

A second finger presses in alongside the first and Keith catches himself whimpering as he melts into the pile of clothes beneath him. His legs subconsciously spread wider, giving Lance more room to work as he starts to rhythmically press them in and out of Keith’s body, working him open around those two fingers with shallow little thrusts. After the first few times, Keith stops trying to shrink away each time they sink in to the hilt again, and instead he finds himself pressing his hips back against Lance’s hand for more.

At that point, Lance humors him, and spreads those fingers apart inside of him. They curl and press up against his inner walls in search of something, and even before they manage to find it Keith is left trembling in overstimulation. He can’t believe it feels like this. It’s so much better than he could have imagined, the feeling of fullness, the repeated press and drag inside of him. It’s almost comforting, like he could drift off to sleep with the gentle way Lance is fingerfucking him open.

His eyes feel heavy and his tired body wants nothing more than to slump forward and collapse.

That changes very suddenly when Lance finally finds what he’s looking for, hitching his fingers downward and pressing them into Keith at just the right angle to rub up against something that makes him shout .

“Holy shit.” Keith gasps, hand sliding across the floor as he suddenly searches for something to hold onto. There’s nothing within reach, he ends up just curling a fist around Lance’s shirt beneath him, trying in vain to ground himself as Lance repeatedly jerks his fingers into that same spot. Over and over again, controlled little finger curls, pressing into him with infuriating familiarity like he’s done it a hundred times before. 

Keith can’t even argue either, he can’t get a word in edgewise without interrupting himself with a moan. 

It’s made so much worse when a third finger suddenly presses in with the others, stretching him open wider, his hole fluttering weakly around the intrusion even as his cock fills out so rapidly between his legs that he’s surprised he doesn’t get lightheaded from it. Fuck. He’s never gotten this hard this fast.

“Too much?” Lance asks, but it’s hard to tell if he’s actually expecting an answer when it must be so obvious just looking at Keith. He’s already strung-out and needy, letting Lance do whatever he wants to him, being played like a puppet by those talented fingers. “Mando, you gotta talk to me, I’m not trying to hurt you-”

“It’s good.” Keith chokes out, grunting when Lance’s fingers rub up against his prostate again, squirming around in an effort to repeat it from that same angle next time. “Too much in a good way.”

“You’re sure? I don’t want you to push yourself and get hurt.”

“What happened to any way I wanted it ?” Keith huffs, maybe a little childishly. He’s goading at this point, trying to earn a reaction out of Lance. Lance scoffs behind him like he knows exactly what Keith is trying to do, but in the end he gives him what he’s after anyway. He starts fucking his fingers into Keith’s ass in earnest, the room filled with sick wet squelching as Lance’s fingers thrust into him quick and deep.

Keith finds himself whimpering through it under his breath, his eyes threatening to roll back in his head with pleasure every time Lance’s fingers press back inside of him in just the right way.

“Think you’re ready for my cock yet?” Lance asks, amusement evident in his tone. To be perfectly honest, Keith would have been satisfied with just his fingers if he hadn’t reminded him that there was something more. He’d forgotten entirely where this was going, too lost in the pleasure to think outside of it. It’s all he can think about now that Lance mentioned it though.

He lifts his head, looking over his shoulder to blink blearily back at Lance. He flutters his eyes, trying to come back to himself. “God, look at you, you look fucked-out already and you haven’t even taken it yet.”

“Shut-up.” Keith laughs, shocking himself by how happy he sounds. He quickly coughs and rights himself, trying to hide the casual tone from before. “I’m ready. Put it in me. I can take it.”

“I admire the confidence, gorgeous, but I’m gonna need more salve to ease the way. It’s bigger than it looks and I’m not even trying to talk myself up, I just don’t want to hurt you.” 

“Fine.” Keith sighs, long-suffering like this is the worst hardship he’s ever had to face in his life. It almost is, when Lance pulls his fingers free and Keith is left feeling so empty it almost hurts. He immediately misses the content feeling of fullness, misses having Lance’s body heat radiating on his skin, misses the feeling of being touched like he’s ever had it in his life before now.

He can’t stand sitting there and waiting, only lasting a minute before he sits up to watch as Lance gets himself ready. He doesn’t regret it either, not when the sight that welcomes him is Lance on his haunches, pumping that big cock with his fist until it’s so slick it shines from base to tip. Keith is compelled by the urge to put his mouth on it, but he resists the temptation somehow. Barely.

“Alright, what position are you thinking?”

“I don’t know.” Keith huffs, averting his eyes quickly. He feels flustered talking about the logistics of this, even after watching Lance play with his cock in front of him, even after having those long fingers pressed up inside of him. He can’t look him in the eye and discuss the sex they’re about to have.

“I know you don’t have a preference, you haven’t tried any, but what would make you the most comfortable? Or, at the very least, the least uncomfortable? You want me to take you from behind like before, you want me to hold you all sweet-like in missionary while I pop your cherry, or you wanna climb on top and ride me to show me how its done? I don’t give a shit, just let me know so I don’t end up getting choked out again when I do something you don’t like.”

“I didn’t choke you out.” Keith grumbles, but it’s obvious that Lance isn’t letting this go without getting an honest answer. He’s got that rare serious look about him and Keith knows this matters to him, so as much as it kills him to admit it, he has to decide. Lance must be able to see how lost he feels on his face because it isn’t long before he’s offering insight.

“If you’re okay with it, having you on top might make sense? At least at first? You can pace yourself however you want and I can watch your face for any signs of discomfort.”

“Fine.” Keith doesn’t need convincing, he doesn’t care one way or the other as long as it ends with him taking that cock. He’s desperately missing the sensation, missing the headiness of losing track of his thoughts for once in his life and losing himself in pleasure instead. He needs that, needs to get out of his head for a change. 

It isn’t long before Lance is laid back in the clothes instead, arms wrapped behind his head while he stares expectantly at Keith. There’s an unspoken challenge there and Keith rises to the task easily, swinging a leg over his lap and settling down into it like he owns the place. He grips Lance’s cock with more confidence than he probably should have, holding it in place while he lines it up with his slick hole. 

He keeps himself poised and hovered above it on his knees, but he drags the head of Lance’s swollen cock back and forth over his hole, applying more pressure steadily until-

The head of Lance’s cock slips into him all at once and he winces in the same instant he moans, resisting the strong urge to drop and take the rest of it all at once. Fuck, it’s a way bigger stretch than three fingers already, but he can’t deny how good it feels to have something inside of him again now that his body’s used to the feeling. He places his free hand in the center of Lance’s chest, ignoring the feeling of Lance’s eyes on him while he slowly starts to drop his hips lower.

He gasps with each inch that presses into his body, the head of Lance’s cock pressing inside of him further than his fingers ever could have reached. His thighs are shaking soon enough and Lance has to place a hand on his hip to force him to take a breather, a knowing little grin curling the corners of his lips.

“Is that all of it?” Keith chuckles, uncertain whether it would be a relief or disappointment at this point. 

“Maybe half.” Lance says, and it’s impossible to tell whether he’s serious or not without physically reaching beneath himself to check. Keith glares at him. “You can just take what you want from me, you don’t have to take it all if it’s too much. Trust me, this feels amazing as it is.”

“N-No, I wanna take it all.” Keith insists stubbornly, ignoring Lance’s hitched eyebrow and lingering hand on his hip. He lets his legs slide open further, dropping him down another inch, and then an inch more… until he finds himself settled flush against Lance’s lap, his ass settled on tan thighs. 

Keith pants for breath, leaning over him and still supporting himself with a hand in the center of his chest. Lance himself doesn’t look much better off, even if he insists on smirking through this whole thing, Keith doesn’t miss the rapid beating of his heart or the short shaky breaths he’s drawing. He’s a lot more affected than he lets on himself.

Keith reaches up to brush his hair back from where it’d fallen in his face, sighing heavily as he shifts his hips experimentally back and forth. Lance feels even bigger inside of him than he looked, Keith swears he can feel the sensation of fullness in the back of his damn throat. He can definitely feel where Lance’s cockhead is pressed so deep inside of him, rubbing up against his inner walls every time his hips shift impatiently on top of him. 

“What do you think? Wanna stay on top?”

“I’m not gonna last.” Keith admits, feeling his face heat up in embarrassment. He thought maybe after coming once he’d be able to hang onto his self-control, even if it was only long enough for Lance to get distracted by his own impending orgasm. It’s clear now that that was wishful thinking though, and it has very little to do with the position. Keith knows he’d be struggling right now regardless.

“Seriously?” Lance looks at him in disbelief, before eventually he seems to accept that Keith is being serious. Then something far worse crosses his face, devious and scheming, and immediately Keith knows what’s coming. “Think you can go again after this?”

“Probably.” Keith sighs, like it’s going to be anything but amazing having Lance try to rush an orgasm out of him. Lance’s hands find his hips easily enough and Keith shoots him a knowing look, but otherwise he doesn’t comment as Lance slowly lifts and then subsequently drops him back down. Keith does grunt when that cock pushes back inside of him fully, but there’s no helping that. “ Lance .”

“Just to take the edge off, that’s all.” Lance assures him, accompanying the words with a few short upward bucks of his hips, meeting Keith in the same instant he drops down into it. It’s good from this angle, something different entirely, and Keith already feels greedy to try it all. 

“It’s too much.” Keith whines, even as he meets every one of Lance’s thrusts, rocking down against the cock inside of him and chasing his own pleasure with it. Keith is quickly becoming addicted to the feeling of desire and being desired, knowing that Lance is getting off on him getting off is surreal.

“Fuck, look at you, squirming on my cock and still biting your tongue because you’re too prideful to ask for more. I just wanna flip you over and fuck you into the floor, until you have no choice but to scream for me and tell me how good I’m giving it to you.”

“Do it.” Keith suggests immediately, without a shred of hesitation, and Lance groans like he’s in pain.

“You’re not gonna be able to walk tomorrow as it is, I don’t wanna-”

“I want you to fuck me .” Keith insists, this time making sure to grind down on Lance’s cock with purpose, rolling his hips sinfully down against his lap. Lance seems rightfully taken aback by Keith taking the initiative and he makes no move to stop it, so Keith keeps riding him just like that. He rocks his hips, bouncing up and down on the cock filling him open so nicely. “Like the whores. In the club.”

“Oh? And what’s that supposed to mean?”

“Don’t hold back, I can take it.”

“Can you?” Lance shoots him with a skeptical look and Keith is more than ready to try to argue with him about it, but he doesn’t get that far before Lance is suddenly sitting up. He taps Keith’s thigh and without a second of hesitation, Keith lifts off of him. Despite mourning the loss of Lance’s cock, Keith makes quick work of stretching out in the clothes as Lance moves behind him. “Bet you could come from getting fucked open on my cock alone, couldn’t you? So sensitive.”

“Lance.” Keith doesn’t even look at him, he doesn’t have to. He knows what he’d see on his face, that same reverent smile while Lance checks him out, admires the view from the new angle. Lance doesn’t need to be warned again, he’s where he needs to be in an instant, pushing Keith forward until he rests on his forearms with his ass in the air. 

Then he spreads Keith’s cheeks wide and taps his cockhead against his pink rim, teasing him with the potential of getting what he really wants. Keith arches his back, pushing his ass further back.

After that, something in Lance’s self-control seems to snap, and he makes quick work of lining up and pressing in. He sinks into Keith in the new position with ease and Keith doesn’t feel the pain or discomfort to accompany it this time, it’s just satisfying to be full again. 

Lance starts off infuriatingly slow, with long deep grinds into Keith’s body like he’s chasing pleasure solely for himself. Keith tries to show him that he’s ready for more, for faster, but either Lance is caught up in the moment or he’s actively trying to tease him at this point. Somehow Keith is beginning to suspect the latter, as Lance runs his hand up the length of Keith’s spine and winds his fingers through his hair.

He doesn’t pull on it, it’s not sudden, but he curls his hand into a fist until Keith feels the barely-there pressure of his grip around his hair. Keith lifts his head into it, gasping when Lance’s hips speed up for a split second, filling him in one quick snap. Without thinking, Keith spreads his legs further, until his knees are sliding out on either side of him and he’s threatening to collapse entirely.

Lance chuckles, giving a sharp tug to his hair this time in the same instant he fucks back into him, and Keith moans like he’s been hurt.

“That’s it, spread your legs, show me how badly you want it.” Lance sounds entirely too amused and that’s the final giveaway that he’s been teasing Keith this whole time with the slow pace and the hair pulling. He probably didn’t expect to get the positive reaction he did, but there’s no stopping him now, as he pulls on Keith’s hair with increasing confidence. Keith is mortified to find that there’s no line, no point where the pain is more than the pleasure. He’s getting off on the rough treatment just like Lance had joked about earlier, what kind of sicko is he? “Tell me, are all Mandalorians masochists? Does it come with the job description or am I just lucky?”

“Fuck.” Keith snarls, reaching back to slap Lance’s hip. “Stop teasing me, damn it, give it to me hard.”

“Yeah? You want it harder, baby?” Lance leans over him, bracketing his back so Keith can feel the way his entire body moves with his slow thrusts, the way his abdomen curls as his hips piston into his body. He wants to hit him again because he still hasn’t sped up any. “All you had to do is ask, Mando, ask and ye shall receive. Do you want me to-”

“If you don’t start fucking me soon, I’m gonna get back on top and show you how to do it.”

“Says the virgin.”

“Not a virgin anymore.” Keith reminds him pointedly, pushing back on the cock inside of him, riding it from beneath Lance. It doesn’t necessarily come as a surprise when Lance finally gives in and suddenly starts fucking into him harder, in controlled sharp thrusts that jostle Keith against the floor, enough force behind them to push him forward each time Lance bottoms out inside of him. 

“How’s that? Hard enough for you?” Lance questions, and Keith is completely incapable of responding, he’s focusing on holding back the array of noises he’s sure Lance would be forcing out of him if he wasn’t. It’s good, so much better than he could have anticipated, the way it feels to have that cock hammering into him as deep as it can. Over and over again. Keith finds his jaw going slack, his forearms giving out and his cheek ending up smushed into the clothes beneath him instead.

Still, Lance doesn’t relent. Now that he’s finally given in himself, Keith isn’t sure he could. He seems just as affected as Keith is right now, breathing heavily where he’s leaning over Keith, his grip on Keith’s hair slowly slackening before it disappears entirely. Instead, his hands grip Keith’s hips, keeping him in place while he fucks into his willing body with increasing desperation.

Keith can hear it, the sound of their coupling, of skin slapping skin. He can’t really focus on anything else, the building pleasure is getting to be overwhelming and he doesn’t want to admit how close he is to his end already. Lance is using him like a doll, chasing his own orgasm, and somehow that’s doing it for Keith more than the slow and caring approach ever could have. He’s into it, into the rough and animalistic fucking Lance is giving him now, and he doesn’t even care if he’ll be sore come morning because he knows how much relief will accompany it. 

He never would have gotten to try this in his lifetime if it weren’t for stupidly persistent and charming Lance, and even if he should he doesn’t think he’ll be able to regret a thing about this night.

“Lance.” Keith whimpers the name, practically punched out of him all at once when that thick cock fills him again, bullying his prostate for the hundredth time over. “I’m getting close. I won’t last much l-”

“What do you need to get you there?” Lance interrupts him, surprising Keith with how invested he suddenly was. It’s clear that he’s close too, but he seems to put that on hold somehow, in favor of helping Keith reach his end. Keith nearly fucking shouts when Lance’s hand reaches under him and finds his cock, where it’d been hanging dripping and neglected between his legs since this all started.

He barely gets a hand around him before Keith feels it, feels the release like a rubber band snapping, feels the way his cock jumps in the warmth of Lance’s palm. He doesn’t even get a stroke in, damn it, and he must be able to tell from the way Keith goes tellingly still what’s about to happen.

“I’m coming, I’m-”

“That’s it, come for me, show me how good I’m making you feel.” Lance whispers, and then he’s closing his fist tight around Keith’s cock and jerking him in earnest, when he’s already there and it borders on being too much instead of just enough. Keith can’t hold back his noises now, and maybe that’d been Lance’s plan, but he throws his head back and cries like he’s never heard himself cry before. It’s wrecked, a needy sort-of noise that he wouldn’t have thought himself capable of.

Even as he starts to come, Lance doesn’t relent, he keeps jerking Keith’s cock and toying with the head of it like it isn’t driving Keith fucking crazy with overstimulation in the moment. He comes with Lance’s thumb rubbing across the slit of his cock, cum coating his fingers and leaking back down the length of Keith’s twitching cock. If anything, it makes the mess worse than it would have been, but Keith hardly cares as he experiences his first orgasm with something inside of him. Something that keeps rutting into him through it, shallow little thrusts that add to the sea of pleasure he’s drowning in.

Even a moment later, when he’s starting to come down from it, Keith still wears a stupid giddy grin on his face that he can’t chase away no matter how he tries. He feels like he’s on cloud nine, like he could happily die right here right now without feeling a loss at all. He’s experienced it all, it doesn’t get better than this feeling.

“Look at the mess you made.” Lance whistles lowly, and Keith cracks open one eye to stare to the side, where Lance is holding up his cum-covered hand. Keith huffs in indifference, but his tune changes quickly when Lance brings his hand back, holding it up to his own face and-

“Don’t-” It’s too late, Keith watches in mortification as Lance laps his tongue across his palm, licking up Keith’s spend like it’s anything less than disgusting. It’s gross, Keith would never dream of swallowing that even if it wasn’t his own, and yet Lance looks like he’s enjoying it. His eyes flutter as he presses a finger past his lips and sucks it clean, cheeks hollowed around it.

Keith trembles with what must be an aftershock of his orgasm because clearly he isn’t finding this hot, he can’t be that depraved already. Has Lance really corrupted him this much already?

“Can I keep fucking you or are you too sensitive?” Lance asks, the moment his finger’s pulled free from his mouth. Keith’s face is still aflame with a blush, but he tries to focus on the question enough to answer it. It’s true that he’s sensitive, arguably too much to continue, but he’s not about to make Lance finish himself off and he can’t deny that he doesn’t want this to be over yet.

“Keep going.” Keith tells him with a nod, quickly burying his face in his arms to hide his blushing face as he presses back against it. Just the inch deeper that cock presses into him makes him whimper under his breath, legs shaking in oversensitivity. Lance doesn’t take the hint, maybe he’s waiting on a more solid approval than that, so Keith reluctantly spurs him on without looking at him. “ Please .”

That does it, in an instant Lance is fucking him again, not holding back in the slightest as he presses back into Keith’s body and starts to take his pleasure from him. Keith can’t keep the noises from spilling now, much to his embarrassment, little whines and whimpers spill past his lips unbidden as Lance fucks him into the clothes. And when he puts strength behind his thrusts, gives Keith a couple deep and purposeful rolls of his hips, Keith has to clamp a hand over his mouth to hide the way he moans like he’s dying for it.

“Listen to you whine, you’d think I was torturing you or something.” Lance’s voice is barely recognizable at this point, deep and strained, arousal so plainly evident that it has Keith shivering beneath him. He’s never heard anyone sound like that, much less because of him, all drawn-out with need and desire. It’s a high in itself. “Such a pretty little whore. You know what I think? I think you wanted this to happen. From the moment we first met in that club and you saw how fucking good I looked disheveled and underdressed. You’ve been thinking about taking my cock ever since.”

“N-No-”

“It’s hard to believe you when you’re arching back into it like you’re dying for it, babe.” Lance counters knowingly and immediately Keith becomes aware of the way he’d been pressing back against Lance, subconsciously demanding more. He groans, glad his face is still hidden from view.

“Don’t call me that.”

“What? I can call you a whore and you draw the line at pet names?” Lance gasps, gripping Keith’s hip for support and sinking his nails into the soft flesh there. He all but pulls Keith back against his cock, fucking him in earnest as he gets closer and closer to his finish. “Tell me your real name then.”

“No.” Keith says immediately, with certainty, with no room for argument. He’s gone back on many oaths and given up on a lot for this man, but that’s gotta be where he draws the line. If Lance knows his name, then what does he have left? He’s given everything to him.

“Please?” Lance makes a convincing argument, peppering sloppy kisses across Keith’s back, following the line of his spine up to the nape of his neck and nipping at him there. “ I’ll make it worth your while. ”

“Not happening.”

“Well, it was worth a shot.” Lance sighs easily, like he isn’t nearly as put-out by the rejection as he must be. Keith does feel bad, but he has to understand what he’s asking for here. A name to a Mandalorian is worth far more than a name to anyone else. Their safety lies in their anonymity, he’s already given up so much for this. Still, it doesn’t seem to bother Lance enough to distract from the task at hand, and Keith is happy to let the topic drop. “I’m close. You want me to pull out?”

“I don’t care.”

“I feel like you might afterward when you have to clean yourself up.”

“I’ll just make you do it.” Keith responds indifferently, stretching his arms out above his head, the picture of relaxation while Lance gets more and more tense the closer he gets to his finish. 

“Sure, I’ll use my tongue, lick it out of you.” Lance snaps back at him, huffing with exertion as he fucks through the beginning of his orgasm. Keith’s eyes go wide and this time he actually lifts his head, looking back at Lance in disgruntled shock. Lance just smiles at him, all toothy and pleased, and suddenly Keith is very glad he looked . Lance is ruined, cheeks flushed and beads of sweat gathered on his forehead, hair falling in his eyes in a loose wave. Keith feels compelled to kiss him again, if only the angle allowed it.

“Shut-up. Don’t be gross.”

“I’m not.” Lance argues, even as it’s clear he’s starting to slip, losing his tightly-gripped control over himself the longer he uses Keith to get off. “Look, you tell me how gross it is when I’ve got your legs around my shoulders and my mouth on your pretty fucked-out hole.”

“Lance.” Keith groans, and it’s mostly annoyed, but a small part of him is overwhelmed even thinking about the suggestion. Having that same flushed and fucked-out face between his legs, pleasuring him, licking him open and keeping him stretched around his tongue… Keith hates the way that it’s starting to sound more appealing than disgusting. He really is becoming a deviant in record time.

“ Fuck , you’re hot.” Lance slumps forward, out of Keith’s view, and buries his face between Keith’s shoulder blades somewhere. Keith feels it when he comes, the way he gives two quick thrusts before stilling, buried to the hilt inside of him while his cock jumps and his balls twitch as they empty. 

He doesn’t notice the difference at first, but when Lance pulls back after he’s finished and goes to pull out, it’s immediately clear what Lance meant about the mess. Keith is startled by the added wetness inside of him, by the easy way Lance’s cock slips free. The moment he’s not plugged up with a cock, Keith feels the first dribble of cum threaten to escape him. He clenches down around it, but he still feels the way it slips past his rim, trailing down to his balls.

“Grab a rag or something, what are you doing?!” Keith hisses, looking back at him expectantly. But when he does, he immediately regrets it, because Lance is simply staring. Sitting back and watching the show with front row seats, admiring Keith’s ass and the mess he’s made of it. Keith glares at him and eventually Lance notices him staring, to which he simply winks at him. 

“You sure you won’t let me eat you out?”

“ Lance .”

“I’ve been told I’m damn good at it, you’re really gonna risk missing out on that? You might as well try everything if this is the only time you’re ever gonna do this shit.” Lance argues playfully, but even as he says all of this he reaches for one of the articles of clothing beneath Keith, all too willing to go along with what Keith wants. And right before he wipes up the mess with his shirt, he pauses to try his luck one more time, a convincing pout on his lips. “Come on, I bet I can make you come again.”

“What do I get if you’re wrong?” Keith muses, but he’s smiling now, and that must be the plainest of giveaways that he’s gonna give in to Lance’s nonsense yet again. He can’t deny his curiosity.

“You can keep me as your prisoner for as long as you want. A sexy little slave to keep on-hand on your ship, have your wicked way with me whenever you want.”

“Fuck off.”

“And if I win?” Lance prompts, gently slapping Keith’s ass. “You’ll tell me your name.”

“Who says I agree to those terms?”

“You’re gonna agree to anything I fucking ask for when I’m done here.” Lance counters, and the sheer amount of confidence behind that statement is enough to stomp out any lingering doubts Keith might have been feeling. He flushes head to toe and he’s sure it must be noticeable. 

“Whatever.”

“Should I lay you down and spread your legs like a buffet or do you wanna be on top again? You seemed to like that.” Lance comments knowingly and Keith curses himself for being so transparent. He did like that, that doesn’t mean he wants to ride Lance’s face, doesn’t mean he’d even consider-

Lance doesn’t wait for an answer, he lays down next to Keith and shoots him an expectant look. Keith glares at him until Lance gestures to the whole of his own face. “Come here then, climb on, you’ve got the best seat in the house.”

“You’ve gotta be fucking kidding me.” Keith sighs heavily, scrubbing a hand across his face. He can feel Lance’s cum leaking out of him and the last thing he wants to do right now is let Lance be intimately familiar with his asshole, but despite the shame and the discomfort, there’s desire burning there like a low flame too. He wonders how many people Lance has done this with before, to be so confident.

That’s the deciding factor in the end. Keith might be a blushing mess, but he picks himself up with a surefire determination to see this through. It’s easy enough to physically maneuver himself, to swing a leg over Lance’s chest and then slowly move up the line of his body, until his thighs are framing that familiar face he’s grown so partial to. Lance immediately turns his head to kiss one of Keith’s thighs, sucking and nipping at the soft flesh there until Keith pushes him away with a huff.

“Turn around.” Lance laughs, smiling at him. “Easier access to the important bits, yeah?”

“Shut-up.” Keith says, mostly because he thinks he might implode if Lance keeps talking about what’s happening here so casually, like it’s nothing to be embarrassed about at all. Keith does as he’s told anyway, turning around and immediately closing his eyes so he doesn’t have to think about the compromising position he’s in. God, Lance can see everything back there, this is stupid, this is so-

"Holy shit.” Keith doubles over forward, hands gripping Lance’s legs for support. Any hope he’d had about keeping his eyes closed is immediately gone, they fly open wide as saucers from the first lap of Lance’s tongue across his twitching hole. He shakes with it, as Lance starts to clean up the mess that’d spilled out and started to dry, lapping between his cheeks with growing insistence. It’s not even fucking inside of him and already Keith is trembling like a leaf in wind. “Stop, it’s too much, I can’t-”

“Stop whining, if you really wanted me to stop you would have choked me out or stabbed me by now on instinct alone. There’s no one here to impress, you can be honest with yourself.” Lance comments, pinching one of his ass cheeks for emphasis. Keith flushes, still feeling flustered to his core, but he doesn’t complain anymore. He covers his mouth with his palm to hide his reactions and lets Lance do his thing, his glorious infuriatingly pleasurable thing. 

Lance laps up his own cum like it’s a delicacy until there’s nothing left on Keith’s skin, and then he moves on to teasing Keith’s hole directly. It’s worse, so much worse, and Keith can’t help the way his body immediately tries to submit to it and coax that tongue inside of him. He’s sure his hole is fluttering each time Lance’s tongue drags over his pucker, teasingly threatening to slip inside without ever giving him the satisfaction of doing it. A part of Keith has to wonder if Lance is waiting for him to ask.

He leans forward further, still braced on Lance’s legs, and gives him more room to work.

Eventually, Lance takes pity on him, and curls his tongue to a point before pressing against his hole. It takes him in easily, loose as it is after taking his cock, and Lance doesn’t hesitate to immediately bury his face between Keith’s cheeks and let his tongue delve deep inside of him. Keith cries out at that, his hips pushing back against the intrusion despite himself. 

“I’m sorry, fuck, I didn’t mean to-” He starts to apologize, worried he’s smothered Lance or something, and then he freezes when he feels rather than hears Lance’s answering laugh. Fuck, it’s barely there, like a dull vibration, and it’s enough for Keith to push back against it all over again. This time he doesn’t feel nearly the same shame, it’s clear that Lance doesn’t mind. If anything, he seems to be enjoying himself, as his hands grip Keith’s hips and try to pull him back into it more forcibly.

Before long Keith is hard again, aching and full against his thigh, and Lance only grows more determined as time goes on. He eats Keith out like it’s his job, like there’s nothing he loves more. He’s fervent about it, eager and borderline rough, his tongue dipping into Keith’s body with insistence. It presses inside of him at every angle, curls and flicks, teases him in places he didn’t even know he could be.

It’s… good. It’s amazing. It’s infuriatingly, maybe the best thing he’s felt all fucking night.

Maybe it’s just because of how sore he is post-fuck, maybe it’s because of the lazy and easy way it tempts him to orgasm, or maybe it’s just Lance’s plainly obvious enjoyment of the act… but it all adds up to Keith enjoying the act far more than he ever would have expected. 

He’s not sure how long it goes on, at some point he starts to relax so thoroughly it feels like sleep is taking him, all lax and boneless where he’s stretched over Lance’s body. He does know the moment it becomes too much, when Lance’s hand reaches between his legs and grips his cock. 

A couple quick strokes and the orgasm Keith has been teetering on the edge of for minutes, hours maybe, tears through him like a shock from head to toe. It’s never been like that before, something that has him trembling apart as it stretches on and on and on. He feels like he could get lost in the pleasure of it, even as his cock only offers a few weak blurts of cum on Lance’s chest. The sensation of it is different, full-body, and Keith is left wrecked in the aftermath when Lance finally pulls away.

Keith doesn’t have the energy in him to roll off, embarrassment a long-gone thing of the past, but Lance eventually eases him off. Keith groans lazily and Lance is immediately there to help turn him around, get him situated in the pile of clothes. He’s right there at Keith’s side as he comes down. He brushes Keith’s hair back from his face, doting on him like Keith needs the special treatment.

For a few minutes, they don’t speak, Keith lies there in silence while he comes back to himself and Lance lingers at his side patiently. He’s ever-present, with a hand on Keith’s arm, or a kiss peppered against his shoulder. It’s impossible to forget he’s there.

Eventually, Keith comes back to himself enough to address his presence. 

“Holy shit.” Keith offers, insightfully, to the room. Lance immediately breaks into laughter beside him, his face pressed into Keith’s shoulder. Keith can literally feel the smile there and it makes him grin, too.

“How was that? Huh?” 

“Fine.” Keith lies through his teeth, nowhere near willing to admit he actually enjoyed what just happened here. That feels like it would be stroking Lance’s massive ego a little too much, to admit what an out-of-body experience he just had.

“So? I won.” Lance reminds him, reaching over to tweak one of his nipples. Keith slaps him away furiously, opening both eyes to glare daggers at him. 

“I never agreed to those terms.”

“Aw, come on, babe, don’t be a prude.” Lance’s sigh is laced with sarcasm, his forlorn sadness drastically over-exaggerated, but underneath the act Keith can tell he is genuinely hurt. It’s worse, seeing the lengths he goes to to try and hide it. It’s not enough to make Keith go back on his word though, as much as he wishes it could be right now. “Alright, can I get a kiss then as a consolation prize?”

“No fucking way.” Keith all but screams when Lance leans in, trying to get his mouth on him. There’s nothing visibly different about his appearance, but Keith is all too aware of where that mouth was a moment ago, there’s no way he’s going to kiss his mouth ever again. Or, in the near future at least.

“Worth a try.” Lance laughs, collapsing back into the clothes pile and staring up at the ceiling. Keith watches him in silence, wary of any potential surprise attacks that might come, attempts at kissing him that he’ll have to ward off again. Lance looks at him sadly. “Come here.”

“No.”

“Please?” Lance tries, batting his long lashes. Fuck. “I wanna hold you.”

“If you try to kiss me with that mouth I’m gonna-” Keith starts to say as he clambers toward him, warily watching his face the entire time for any signs of deceit. He seems earnest enough, right up until the second he bolts up and grabs Keith by the middle, rolling them until he’s on top and pressing their lips together. Keith shrieks, shoving him away, surprising himself when he hears the bubbly laughter spilling from his mouth. Damn it.

“Mm, yeah, yeah, you’re gonna kill me. Sure.” Lance rolls his eyes, shifting to lie beside Keith again. He doesn’t kiss him again, but he does curl up against his side, wrapping his arm and his leg around Keith like he’s a familiar body pillow and not a person. Keith… sort-of likes it. He relaxes into it surprisingly fast for someone who’s never been held in any context other than a fight. “We should take a nap.”

“I shouldn’t leave the ship on autopilot too long, it’s not-”

“Just a short one.” Lance insists, his statement followed by a long bellowing yawn that makes a very convincing argument. Nearly as convincing as his relaxed, smiling face where it lays against Keith’s chest comfortably. He looks asleep in every way except the grin he’s wearing, like the cat who got the cream.

Keith feels the strongest urge to rake his fingers through Lance’s short hair, to push it back from his face so he can admire Lance without it blocking his view. He doesn’t dare though, he keeps his hands pinned to his sides where they should be. Lance isn’t his to hold and admire, this isn’t something he should get so familiar with, he’ll feel the loss harder when he goes.

“Where are you headed after this?” Keith forces himself to ask, addressing the elephant before it sneaks up on him. He’d rather stay in control of this situation, accept the reality now before he gets his hopes up for something that can never be. It’s the smart thing to do, to protect himself.

“What?”

“You mentioned Tatooine? I’ll drop you off there.” Keith offers, knowing what he’s offering. He’s offering to go back on his word to Lance’s father, to set his bounty free for the first time ever, to put his feelings above his work. He’d decided early on, subconsciously, that he couldn’t do that to Lance. He was too good of a man. Everything that’s happened since… has just solidified his decision.

He expects to see Lance’s relief, expects him to light up with a smile, to thank him for his freedom.

Instead he gets Lance’s fury, Lance’s blue eyes blinking open like flames, sweltering anger directed all at him. Keith flounders in disbelief, resisting the urge to physically roll away to put space between them.

“Are you serious?!”

“What? Are you mad?!” Keith can’t even hide his surprise, he’s completely blindsided by this. Lance is looking at him like he’s stupid, like he’s missed an entire chunk of this conversation. He doesn’t get it, he’s giving Lance exactly what he wants. “You’re not understanding, I’m telling you that I’m letting you go. You’re free. I won’t take you back to your father, you’re not staying here, I’ll drop you off and you can go back to what you were doing before. The whole Robin Hood thing.”

“What the hell do you mean I can go back to how things were before?!” Lance shoves him, a bold move, but Keith doesn’t have the strength to fight back. He feels tired, hurt like he’s never hurt. He didn’t want them to leave on bad terms, his only solace was that they were gonna part ways amicably. “You think I’m gonna move on from this like it meant nothing to me just because you weren’t my first? I would spend the rest of my life regretting it if I let you walk away before I gave this a chance.”

Oh.

That’s why he’s mad. He doesn’t want Keith to set him free… he wants to stay.

Fuck.

“Gave what a chance? There’s no future for us.”

“You’re so stubborn.” Lance shoots him a look, something pointed and lacking patience altogether. It’s the first time he’s ever seen Lance look so serious, so genuinely upset. It throws him for a loop, he’d been starting to think that Lance was such an easygoing person he never got angry and now to have it directed at him... it hurts. Lance must be able to tell too because he sighs, closing his eyes and feigning tiredness, like he can force himself to go back to how relaxed they were before by sheer ignorance alone. 

“I didn’t mean-”

“There’s no one else here. There’s no reason to pretend you don’t want this just as much as I do. What’s the point of keeping up the act? I’ve seen you beneath the helmet, I know you more intimately than any of them do. I don’t understand it. Just… be honest with yourself.” 

Lance’s words hang in the air unanswered for a long moment, the silence stretching on for so long that Keith starts to wonder if he can just close his eyes and pretend to be asleep. Lance’s eyes are already closed after all, how would he know? It doesn’t sit right in Keith’s gut though and he can’t bring himself to lie through this like he has so many uncomfortably intimate conversations before.

He doesn’t want to sweep this under the rug and forget it ever happened. He’s not sure he could either.

“I don’t know how.” Keith admits instead, sighing heavily. He turns onto his side to look at Lance, to wait on a reaction, but nothing drastic ever comes. He expects Lance to be upset with that answer, it’s more of a non-answer if anything. It’s not an agreement, not a promise for a future, not even an offer to try. 

It is the truth though, the honest truth. Keith has never had to be honest with himself about what he wants, he’s never allowed himself to want, he’s never even allowed himself to have a sense of self.

This is all new.

Eventually, Lance cracks a single eye open to squint over at him. Keith has been holding his breath waiting for a reaction all this time, he’s prepared for the worst. Only, all that follows is a smile stretching across Lance’s face. It’s lazy and lighthearted, like suddenly he’s right back to his usual self.

“This is a good start, I think.” He says, holding an arm out. “Let yourself have this much, we’ll worry about the rest as it comes.”

Keith stares at it until he goes cross-eyed with it, his heart hammering inside his chest like he’s running a marathon, like he’s staring death in the face for the hundredth time in his short life. Eventually, he shifts closer and settles into the embrace Lance was offering, cuddling up against the plane of Lance’s bare chest and resting his head there. 

As much as he knows he can’t, he can’t help but think he could get used to this.

“It’s Keith.” He whispers some time later, after overthinking in his half-conscious state for long enough that it started to seem like a good idea. It’s hard to say if Lance is even awake to hear it, it’s hard to know if it would even make any difference if he was, but Keith has never been so suddenly desperate to share anything with anyone as he is to share his name with this man. “My name’s Keith.”

Notes:

Howdy Hey Ho, Neighborinos!!! It's been a hot minute since I've posted anything, like... a year or so whoopsie time flies when you're moving house x2, getting a new job, starting a serious romantic relationship, rebuilding your credit, and seeing a mortgage advisor. I've been doing ADULT STUFF and my time for porn has diminished. A tragedy. Why is it that I can't have my cake and eat it TOO??? Answer me that.

Anyway I'm trying to find the equilibrium of porning and lifing, it's only a matter of time and I'll ace it.

Follow me on my nsfw twitter for updates as I navigate these trying times and hopefully keep you guys updated on MORE content coming soon.

@melancholymango is my main twitter/tumblr
@redgaysonly is my nsfw fandom twitter acc!