Chapter Text
The first time Shiro suggested to Lance that they fucked, Lance turned him down. He was so overtaken by shock, his response came quickly and without thought. Shiro only nodded and let him be. The following week, that moment played over and over in Lance’s head; Shiro knocking on Lance’s door, asking about Lance’s well-being and what he was up to, then getting straight to business. Lance had never heard sex discussed in such a businesslike manner. He’d also never been directly asked for it.
What kept resurfacing, the reason he couldn’t let the moment go, was not his shock but rather the knowledge that Shiro was attracted to him. Desired him. The prospect stood in alarming contrast with how his relationship with Shiro had seemed.
***
The next time Shiro asked, it was more by implication than request. Lance had exited rather clumsily from a ball, intoxicated by the drinks a trio of alien girls kept offering him. He suspected he was the last to retire, but apparently Shiro had waited up for him. The man steadied Lance as he walked up to his borrowed room of the foreign castle, and chastised Lance for losing his sobriety and alertness over some girls.
“There are better ways to find release, Lance. You don’t have to butter up to strangers to get off.”
Lance flushed at the deliberate look Shiro was giving him. He wanted to protest that he hadn’t been trying to get laid, but the words didn’t come.
Shiro accepted his quiet, “goodnight,” as answer enough when they reached Lance’s door.
***
He wasn’t sure what changed. He supposed he’d never been much opposed to begin with, and he was done processing. Done thinking.
If Shiro was surprised about Lance’s change of heart, he didn’t show it. Idly, Lance wondered if Shiro had anticipated his acquiescence all along.
The first time they fucked, Shiro was slow and steady. They didn’t mention it but Lance knew Shiro knew he had never been with a man before. He wasn’t sure Shiro knew he’d never had sex with a girl, either.
***
Lance wondered whether Shiro had clocked him as queer to begin with, or if he’d been trying his luck that first night he asked. Without wanting to reflect on why, he hoped for the second.
***
It became a regular thing. Lance would find himself guided into Shiro’s bedroom at night, or Shiro would invite himself into Lance’s room, and there would be very little build up before undressing. Lance noticed that Shiro wasn’t all that interested in kissing. He didn’t mind. If anything, kissing Shiro for a prolonged time would feel strange; it would make his less-than-romantic feelings stand out uncomfortably.
Early on, Lance did his best not to think of Keith as he pushed his face into a pillow, on his knees, ass up. He focused only on the feeling of each powerful thrust of Shiro’s cock and chased away any images of longer, darker hair. A younger face. A leaner body. Keith didn’t deserve to be tainted, sexualized. Thinking of him felt dirtier, somehow, than laying here and taking the cock of a man he didn’t love; barely even liked.
Eventually he found he couldn’t stop himself. Rather than eating away guilt every time Keith crossed his mind, he indulged and told himself he wasn’t evil.
He began to prefer laying on his back, the way he would do if he was with Keith. He didn’t need to be faced away from Shiro anymore, not if he closed his eyes.
Keith was beautiful. There was no word Lance preferred. His image came so easily; Lance had memorized every feature without ever trying.
And Keith was… such a good person. So much that it made Lance’s heart clench, sometimes. It wasn’t anyone’s first impression of Keith, not when his demeanor was so intense. But Lance saw it everywhere now. He imagined that if somehow, Keith ever loved him, he would never again have to feel how he did now.
Tolerated. Lonely. Used.
He imagined that Keith’s love would save him.
***
Lance let out an imperceptible sigh as Shiro began to pick up his pace. He let himself relax into the weight of the body over him and the drag of Shiro’s cock against his walls. His mouth hung open with the growing pleasure.
“God, you’re even quieter than Keith,” Shiro muttered absentmindedly, pinning Lance down for leverage to pound into him at the hurried, rough pace he liked.
Lance opened his eyes very suddenly.
Shiro didn’t seem to notice what he’d said.
“What?” he breathed.
Awareness dawned on Shiro, who was now looking uneasily into Lance’s eyes.
Neither knew quite what to say.
“You and Keith are…?” The unfinished question hung heavily for a moment, before Shiro nodded.
“Yeah. The same way as us.”
“...oh.”
“Are you okay with that?”
“Yeah,” Lance answered too quickly. “Yeah, no, that’s- that's cool. Totally cool.”
Shiro eyed him for a moment, and then seemed to decide Lance’s response was good enough for him. “Alright,” he said, and gave a half-smile, and then found his leverage to start fucking Lance again.
They didn’t mention it in the time that followed, as Shiro’s pants and grunts grew heavier, and Lance’s face grew more flushed and wretched. Lance expected that Shiro was close to coming and reached down to jerk himself off so that he could reach his climax as well. He was now hyperaware of his own breathing, of his own lack of noise, now that Shiro had commented on it. He still couldn’t bring himself to be vocal, though he was years removed from the thin walls of his childhood home.
The intense full-body feeling of a nearing orgasm came on very quickly with the combined pleasure of his hand and Shiro’s brutal fucking-- Shiro was chasing his own orgasm, pushing his cock deep into Lance’s body before finally releasing thick streams of white.
Lance came without a sound, his face scrunched up in pleasure. His cum landed on both their stomachs and coated his hand.
Shiro pulled out and crawled out of Lance’s bed without a word. Lance only faintly registered Shiro wiping himself with a hand towel, dressing, and leaving Lance’s room like nothing happened.
Lance could only think of Keith.