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Public Displays of Affection

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For all the modern conveniences the Castle-ship has, it did not have segregated showers. In fact, they were almost painfully communal. The showers were basically one giant, bowed-out room with ten to twenty stalls barely separated by gray dividing walls. None of the stalls had a door either, so anyone who walked far enough down the line of showers was privy to the bare asses of all their crewmates. The only modicum of privacy that existed was a changing room tacked onto the far right side of the room, through which the showers were accessed. There, towels and spare clothes were routinely collected and replaced by the Castle’s friendly A.I. system—a neat little feature, courtesy of Coran after one too many instances of someone forgetting a change of clothes and having to wander the labyrinthine ship naked.

The former paladins must have gotten used to the lack of privacy, Lance assumed. Luckily the members of the current Voltron force seemed to shower at completely different times. And usually if two people were caught in the showers at the same time, all eyes remained on their own respective stalls. Except of course for Lance, who hadn’t quite received the memo on the basics of personal showering space. He’d intruded on the other paladins multiple times, especially Keith and Hunk. Usually making a suggestive comment completely at their expense and passing it off as a joke, while slyly watching the water trace the curvature of their muscles.

This time, it was Hunk’s stall Lance had intruded into. He couldn’t remember what he said this time. Something about how, with thighs like his, he could crush a man’s head. Which made a lot of assumptions about where the hypothetical—purely theoretical—man’s head would be.

Hunk’s defeated sigh caught him off-guard. “All this time and you still can’t just straight up ask for what you want,” he huffed.

“What are you talking about?” Lance gaped with too-obvious feigned innocence. Splaying both hands in a lazy shrug, he asserted confidently, “It seems you’re the one who wants something.”

Hunk just rolled his eyes and beckoned with thick fingers, like calling a cat. The gesture drew Lance’s body forward like a magnet until they were chest-to-chest. He threaded long fingers into wet, ebony hair, never tugging but applying a gentle pressure to the base of Hunk’s skull to urge him forward. The pressure didn’t ease until Hunk leaned forward and molded their mouths together. Broad arms around Lance’s back came as a surprise, always firmer than they looked.

Lance sagged experimentally in Hunk’s tight grip, practically floating on his toes. A delighted shudder rolled through him.

Hunk pulled back and frowned. “You’re not gonna make me hold you up the whole time, are you?”

Lance pursed his lips, giving the issue his fullest pretend consideration. He tilted his head, purposefully brushing their noses together.

“Maybe. You can handle that, right, big guy?” he crooned lowly, eyelashes drooping to shade his blue eyes. Such a gesture could melt most men into putty.

“Nope,” Hunk answered immediately. He lifted Lance a little and leveraged him against the shower wall. “I’m enlisting help.”

Lance groaned, eyes rolling up, “What? Come on, dude, back in the academy I saw you lift cargo boxes twice my weight with one hand.”

“That’s an exaggeration,” Hunk argued, shifting to pin Lance with his lower body. In response, Lance’s legs instinctively wrapped around his midsection, heels digging into soft lower back muscles. A hand wandered aimlessly over his ribcage as Hunk insisted, “Besides, I never had a liaison with a cargo box. Do you have any idea how hard it is to hold up another person when your knees are going noodle-y?”

The hand ventured upwards, fingers skirting sensitive pectoral muscles. Lance lifted his arms over his head to give better access, head swimming with how weightless he felt. Cocksure, he hummed, “You saying I make your knees weak?”

“That remains to be seen,” Hunk said with a sly smile, thumb venturing just beneath one pert brown nipple, “but I’m not taking any more chances.”

The hand doubled back down to Lance’s abdomen, joined by a friend, and Lance’s brows furrowed as they began a slow journey up rippling skin, brushing over his chest and higher still. Hunk’s mouth followed, nipping warm and wet trails that Lance’s torso rose to meet.

Hunk had kissed all the way up to where wiry neck met ear and jaw before Lance grasped the breadth of his implication.

“Holy shit!” Lance shrieked, yanking Hunk’s head back by his hair with a look somewhere between offense and total excitement. A half-smile quivered on his face as he demanded, “Who was it? Who’d you drop?”

“I dunno what you’re talking about,” Hunk grunted, relishing the slender hand that slipped playfully down the back of his neck. Nimble fingers traced the bumps in his spine.

“Somebody back at the academy?” Lance asked, ignoring Hunk’s objection. He tilted his neck back as Hunk leaned forward to return to sucking the sensitive skin, leaving the faintest suggestion of teeth behind.

“You’re the only one I had that kind of relationship with,” Hunk answers, sending a flutter of smug butterflies through Lance’s stomach. He knew that wasn’t the full answer, though.

“If it wasn’t someone back at the academy … then it had to be somebody on our team, right?” Lance frowned down at his friend, who responded with a harsh bite to the collarbone. Gasping appreciatively, Lance’s fingers stroked back up from Hunk’s spine to his hair. “Ahh! Nn, couldn’t have been Shiro or Pidge. And you were never interested in Allura.”

Thumbs pressed into the crooks of his bony hips, drawing out a soft groan and upsetting his concentration. They pressed firmly, as if in warning, grip already strong and eager enough to leave red marks. The promise of what was to come almost made Lance forget his line of inquiry. Then the realization hit him.

He beat a fist against Hunk’s shoulder and declared triumphantly, “It was Keith, wasn’t it?” Wisely, Hunk said nothing, rolling one brown eye to look up from Lance’s chest. Another warning bite had Lance arching with the feeling, almost delicious as the victory from discovering this new information. He asserted again, with little to no supporting evidence but complete certainty, “You fucked him and dropped him on his ass!”

Hunk’s laugh reverberated through Lance’s skin, “I didn’t fuck him.” Which Lance believed, but there were a whole lot of other inappropriate things he and Keith could’ve done that Hunk wasn’t outwardly denying.

“So it was him!” Lance shouted, earning another short peal of laughter, this time a little more embarrassed. Refusing to damn himself further, Hunk ducked in for a kiss, tongue pushing past whatever ramblings were sure to come next. Lance wholeheartedly responded, nails digging into Hunk’s back, sucking slowly on new, heated thoughts.

The Keith—straight-laced, socially stunted, can’t-make-or-take-a-joke-to-save-his-life Keith—had been where Lance was right now, held down by Hunk’s body and strong arms. Feeling straight teeth scrape over his collarbone and down his chest. That Keith, whose name and mullet just by association with him became symbols of the quintessential self-unaware prude. Lance would never have thought he was gay, or that he even had the presence of mind to think of doing any sweaty activity other than, you know, training.

They separated with a pop and a string of giggles rose out of Lance’s throat. Keith must have been so befuddled, picking himself off the floor, still partly aroused. Maybe he didn’t mind being on his knees. The fantasy, coupled with a harsh suck on his left nipple, made Lance’s half-hard dick swell further.

“Did he suck you off? Give you a handy? Come on, man, I need details,” Lance insisted. His incessant questions went unanswered, but he found it hard to mind when Hunk’s right hand trailed down to his groin.

As fingers curled around his cock and began to stroke, he bit his lip and imagined Keith on his knees, mouth open wide as Hunk slid in all the way to the back of his throat. Or maybe it was Hunk between Keith’s legs, licking a stripe up his throbbing dick, listening to him pant and beg for more in a jilted tone. And then maybe he turned over onto his stomach, spread his legs and lifted his ass while Hunk pulled his cheeks apart and—oh shit, shit, suddenly Keith was nine times hotter than Earth’s sun and it bothered Lance how quickly that guy had gone from awkward-sexy to holy fucking shit. He defiantly chalked it up to the power of his magnificent imagination.

Fuck,” Lance hissed as a particularly firm stroke dragged him out of the vision. He looked up to see Hunk’s knowing gaze, heat in his dark eyes. “What?”

“You look pretty much how I felt at the time,” Hunk teased, not caring if he just fully outed himself.

Lance’s scowl deepened briefly before blooming into another wide, self-confident grin. He brushed a thumb over Hunk’s bottom lip and said, “But in the end, you couldn’t help running back to me, huh?”

“Of course. There’s no comparison,” Hunk replied with no hesitation. A soft hum let him know he answered correctly. And it hadn’t been a lie—of the grand total of two paladins Hunk had “liaisons” with, Lance definitely took the cake. Among other things.

Hunk found the reward for loyalty was pretty sweet too when Lance asked, “So how do you want me today? We can use my conditioner,” he added with a waggle of his eyebrow. Nothing was off-limits, then.

“That’s a tough choice,” Hunk pondered. He shifted Lance in his arms, cock pressing against Lance’s own to let him know how hard he was. “You’re pretty damn hot on your knees. And on your side. And while riding me.”

“Pick something that’s easy to do here, Hunk,” Lance chided, but still obviously preening himself. “I’d offer to just blow you, but you’ve obviously got bigger plans.” He accentuated the end of his sentence with a roll of his hips.

Hunk simply smiled, let Lance down, and instructed him to turn around. Lance complied with great showmanship, pressing palms and chest to the wall and wiggling his ass flirtatiously. A calloused hand came to rest near the base of his spine, pushing the arc in his back forward with an authority that made Lance’s toes tingle and his eyes slide closed. Just as he felt fingers climbing his inner thigh, he heard a loud spatter against one of the stall walls. Hunk made a strangled noise and his touch disappeared.

When Lance turned to ask what was going on, he received a full-blast spray of water in the face. He shook his head with a pained whine, and put on his best glare for the culprit.

To his surprise, it was Pidge standing there, holding a shower nozzle, one long tube running out of it and behind the dividing wall. She stood there completely naked, peeking out from the adjacent stall, only half hidden by the gray wall. And from the looks of it, she was completely unfazed by everything.

“Remote activation,” she explained dully. “Cool, right?”

“I didn’t know you could pull them off the wall like that,” Lance mused, earning another blast of water. When he dried his eyes again, he could swear there were black spots dancing on his vision.

“W-we didn’t hear you come in,” Hunk mumbled, leaning against the dividing wall with his body angled away to hide his raging erection.

“No shit,” she deadpanned. Her hair was as dry as her tone, so she must have just come in, snuck past them, and then remotely activated the shower head.

“How did you do that?” Lance demanded, stumbling forward to see. He backed off when she raised the shower head threateningly.

“You could figure it out yourself if you actually took the time to look, instead of getting it on in the showers. Geez, you two, we all use this space. What if Shiro had come in? Or Coran?”

Shrugging, Lance answered, “I’m pretty sure Coran never showers. Have you smelled that guy recently? Either he hasn’t showered in three weeks or he needs to lay off the Altean cologne.”

He shrieked as another spray of water flew right into his eyes. “What the hell was that for?!”

“Because I wanted to,” Pidge replied calmly, a smug smirk tugging at the corners of her mouth. “Now could you do me a favor and take your …” her eyes flicked down to Lance’s dick, still standing hard and red and completely out in the open, “business somewhere else? I’d like to shower in peace.”

Lance leaned an elbow against the wall Pidge stood behind and leered, “What, we getting you all hot and bothered?”

A blast of cold water pulsed over his arousal and completely knocked the wind out of him. Pidge mercilessly, ruthlessly, maintained the flow, pushing him back into Hunk who began shouting, “Cold! So cold!!”

“Okay, okay!! It was just a joke!” Lance cried, protecting his junk with his hands as he made a mad dash for the changing room with Hunk in tow, Pidge spraying them the whole time. By the time Lance made it to the door, his legs were shivering with both cold and frustration. He looked back at her just long enough to get a glimpse of her square, boyish shoulders and her narrow back. She hadn’t spared them even one curious glance.

Both boys dove into the changing room. Lance furiously toweled himself off and threw his shorts and jacket on, not bothering with his undershirt. He wheeled on poor Hunk, who’d just picked up his underwear, and yelled, “Get your shit on right now! We’re going back to my room and having an angry fuck!”

Bewildered, Hunk countered, “I’m more embarrassed than angry.”

Lance grabbed him by the shoulders, lip curled in a snarl.

“Doesn’t matter. It’s still gonna be the angriest fuck of your life.”

Lance “helped” Hunk tug on his pants and his shirt inside-out, and then dragged him down the hall.