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Midnight Snack

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“Dude, back off,” Keith snaps, shaking Lance off his arm as he peers over Keith’s shoulder, breathing too closely and too heavily for comfort. “I got this.”

Lance scans the room and pouts.. “Well, excuse me, Mr. Smarty Pants. I didn’t realize that you were the only one looking for a midnight snack. Newsflash: we’re here for the same reason.”

“Then be useful and look somewhere else.” Keith peers into the food goo hose for what has to be the fifteenth time. He can’t seem to figure out how Hunk and Coran manage to get these things to work.

Lance huffs, wandering away, poking every button and switch in his wake.

As Keith once again attempts shaking the machine vigorously, he hears Lance speak up. “Uh, I found a door? I think?”

Keith rolls his eyes. “There are a lot of doors here. It’s a castle. Be specific.”

“A door that’s partially hidden, asshole. It’s behind the other machine.”

“Then move the machine.”

“I can barely lift Pidge. What makes you think I can move this big-ass machine by myself?”

Keith’s knees crack when he stands fully. To his surprise, Lance is right -- there’s a door that is almost entirely hidden by the other food machine -- the one they’ve already poked and prodded to no avail. “Help me push it that way on the count of three.” He points towards the table. “One...two-- goddamn it, Lance.”

Lance is already wasting energy as he slams his full weight against the machine before Keith can get to three. Keith puts in his extra -- and dare he say, superior? -- strength and the machine slides, slowly but surely, across the smooth tiles of the kitchen floor.

“Nice!” Lance says, smiling, and Keith scowls at himself when his heart rate quickens. Lance’s smile shouldn’t be so bright in the middle of the night. It’s not fair for Keith that someone so beautiful just doesn’t see him that way. Someone so bright would never like anyone as gloomy as himself.

Lance, oblivious to the thoughts flying through Keith’s mind, pushes the handle down, swinging the door open towards them. “See? There are backup food goo machines or something in here.”

“Well, at least you’re better at observation than you are at counting.” Keith sneers. This is not how you flirt, oh, my god, Keith thinks to himself.

Lance swivels on his heel. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Last I checked, two and three aren’t the same number, genius.”

“Everyone knows that you’re supposed to do stuff when it gets a second past two, not after they actually say the number.” Lance pauses, frown deepening. “What the hell’s your problem, anyway? I’m the one who actually fixed the issue.”

“Please. If it hadn’t been for me, your princess arms wouldn’t have pushed away shit. Aren’t you supposed to be getting beauty sleep or something?” Yikes. Too late, too late, that was too far. Show no regret, be strong, Kogane. Keith looks absently at his nails.

“God, you’re such an asshole! All I’m doing is helping you and what? A guy can’t care about his looks, like that has to do with anything? Fuck off.”

“Well, considering that I’m the one who did all the heavy lifting, literally, I’m the one eating first. Move.” He swings around Lance to the closet.

Lance yanks his sleeve, twisting him back around to face him. “What is your fucking problem ?” He demands, shoving Keith backwards. Keith grabs Lance’s jacket in a blind attempt to steady himself as he falls. Lance topples onto him, arms windmilling in a useless attempt at balance. Keith’s back smacks into the machine with Lance’s added weight on him and Lance’s shoelaces loop around the corner of the door, slamming it shut.

“Great job, dumbass. Now we’re stuck in this closet or whatever the hell it is.”

Keith is expecting a snarky rebuttal from Lance, but it never comes. Nervously, he looks over to see Lance huddled in the corner, head between his knees. “L-Lance, are you okay? Are you hurt?”

Lance doesn’t reply. He moves his hands up to his head and starts pulling at his hair anxiously. All he can think about is that he’s trapped in the dark with only the dim emergency lights lining the ceiling. “Open the door, Keith. I’m s-- I’m sorry about shoving you, just open the door, please.” He’s gulping uselessly for breath. It feels as though the room has been drained of its air supply. The walls are closing in, forcing him to pull even further into himself.

Keith pushes at the door. He slams his full weight onto it, nearly hurting his shoulder against the metal in an attempt to get it open. “I think it’s locked, Lance.”

Lance feels trapped, like a caged animal unable to escape. He can feel tears begin to prick at his eyes, but he can’t stop them. He can only remember the airlock and the fear he had when the door was about to open and shoot him into space, the pure terror he felt when he thought the castle was going to kill him. Right now, with the air stolen from his lungs, it feels almost the same.

Keith can only watch as the tears stream down from Lance’s glistening blue eyes. He can’t help but think that Lance is still completely stunning with these tears falling from eyes, making them the same shimmery blue as the ocean. He then quickly shoves that thought aside. He’s too distracted by the overwhelming sadness and fear twisting Lance’s face. Keith wants Lance to cry from happiness. Keith never wants to see Lance, his Lance , afraid. Not now, and not ever.

Suddenly, there are arms winding  around Lance’s waist, pulling him back to the present. A hand slowly moves up, gently pushing his head into a firm chest.

Keith , his brain supplies helpfully.

Lance’s breath somehow becomes easier after that, and he feels himself begin to calm down. As he brings his arms up to wrap around Keith, he pulls his head back to look at Keith’s face. Wow, his eyes are almost glowing. Must be a Galra thing, Lance thinks. Or maybe it’s just him. With Lance’s limited view, his eyes focus on Keith’s mouth. Keith’s lips are slightly pouting and are so close to Lance as his chin wobbles with uncertainty. Unconsciously, Lance starts to lean closer. Their noses just barely touch when Lance thinks to himself, fuck it, and gently presses his mouth to Keith’s.

For a moment, Keith is frozen. Is Lance kissing me? Is this really happening?

Before Lance can pull away, Keith moves his hands to cup Lance’s cheeks, holding him there. Slowly Keith swipes his thumbs under Lance’s eyes to wipe away his tears. He can’t bring himself to move away because of how perfect Lance feels, pulled so close to him. His lips are so soft, how is that even possible? Keith has never been so grateful for Lance’s ridiculous skincare routine. Even more inviting is the softness of Lance’s cheeks against the calluses of Keith’s fingertips. Without thinking, he nips gently at Lance’s lower lip.

Before Keith can move his hands into Lance’s hair, Lance pulls back. “Lance, what-”

Lance rises slightly onto his knees, shuffling over until he’s straddling Keith’s lap, and sitting on his thighs. He pushes Keith’s jacket off of his shoulders and tilts his head down, eagerly kissing Keith again. Keith’s arms tighten around Lance, head tilting further as Lance teases his tongue.

Lance’s long fingers thread through Keith’s hair and tug gently as he whimpers into Keith’s mouth. Keith reflexively pulls Lance down against his growing erection.

“Stand up.” Keith tugs Lance’s jacket off of his shoulders, throwing it behind him.

“Wha--?”

Keith impatiently picks Lance up and stands, his hands gripping Lance’s ass. Lance’s back hits the door with a quiet thump. Keith pins his hips to the door with his own as he grabs each of Lance’s wrists and holds them above his head with one hand, the other gripping the back of Lance’s knee. Lance’s ankles lock behind Keith as Keith sucks harshly at his neck, leaving countless marks in his mouths wake.

“Fuck, Keith ,” Lance moans. “P-please, more…”

Keith switches to the other side of Lance’s neck, biting down harshly only to gently lick over the marks he leaves. Fuck, Lance thinks. Why are his teeth so sharp? After Keith leaves another bite over the center of  his throat, Lance can’t bring himself to care. All he can focus on is how much he wants Keith’s perfect mouth all over him. Lance bucks his hips against Keith’s, their erections brushing each other through their pants. Lance’s hands drop as Keith rips his shirt off. His hands immediately return to Keith’s long hair, burying themselves and twisting at the dark strands, releasing small sounds of pleasure as his hips continue grinding on Keith’s equally hard cock.

With a frustrated groan, Keith grabs Lance’s hips, pulling them forcefully against his own to set the pace himself.

“K-Keith, Keith, oh, god, plea-please, I need to-,” Lance babbles. Keith’s lips devour his, muffling his pleasured sounds. He pulls away, admiring Lance’s lips, red and slightly swollen from Keith’s harsh treatment.

“What do you want, baby?” Keith snaps his hips against Lance’s.

“I want, I wanna, I--” Lance’s eyes are squeezed shut, nails scraping down Keith’s biceps. The slight pain from the scratches only manages to encourage Keith.

“Tell me. I won’t do anything unless you tell me.”

“God, Keith, I’m -- fuuuck -- I’m gonna, I’m close --”

At that, Keith pulls his hips away from Lance’s. Lance groans in frustration. He bucks his hips at Keith’s frantically, Keith’s hands holding him roughly against the door. He tries to use his ankles to pull Keith to him, but he doesn’t move an inch. Keith can’t help the arousal that surges through him at Lance’s desperate pleas.

“Keith, no, no, please, I-- I need you.” He starts tugging blindly at Keith’s shirt hem, unable to get a proper grip on the fabric.

Keith pushes his hands away, instead yanking the button of Lance’s jeans open. “You don’t get anything until I say you do. Understand?”

Lance nods vigorously, giving himself over completely to the authority in Keith’s voice. He unconsciously closes his eyes as he tilts his head back to the cool metal behind him, exposing his neck to Keith’s mouth once again.

“Open your eyes, Lance.”

When Lance’s eyes open, they are shining with tears of frustration. These are the tears Keith wants to see. He wants this expression to only be for him, no one else has the right to see Lance when he is so open and willing.

“Tell me what you want,” he repeats. He licks a stripe up the side of Lance’s neck, all the way to his ear. “ Tell me.” He presses a kiss to Lance’s lips that would seem chaste if not for Lance’s hips still moving impatiently.

“God, Keith, I want-I want, please, fuck me, Keith,” he moans as Keith sucks on his neck, hard enough to leave another mark.

Keith lowers Lance’s feet to the floor. Lance is barely able to stand on his weak-kneed legs. Keith slowly unbuttons Lance’s pants and pushes his still-gloved hands under the hem at his hips. The scrape of the worn leather manages to make Lance even more desperate to have those hands all over him. Keith’s nails scrape the sides of Lance’s muscled thighs as he pushes both his pants and boxers to his ankles in one swift motion. Lance steps out, legs shaking.

Keith lifts him even higher than before with ease, thankful for the high ceiling as he puts Lance’s knees on his shoulders. Seeing Keith’s head between his knees sends a spark of heat and anticipation to Lance’s stomach.

Keith watches Lance’s red face as he licks at Lance’s cock gently.

Ooooh fuck , Keith, K-- hnng!”  Lance lets out a strained groan as Keith takes him into his mouth in a single movement.

Keith’s head bobs quickly, hand sliding smoothly up and down Lance’s cock in time with his movements. He nearly chokes when Lance’s hips make an involuntary thrust into the wet heat of Keith’s mouth. Keith moves his hands to Lance’s waist to hold him still against the wall.

Lance can’t help but release a whine when Keith pulls away. “Please, please, Keith, I need you, now, I--”

Lance’s shameless begging is cut off when fingers are shoved into his open mouth.

“Suck them.”

Lance has already begun swirling his tongue around the three fingers in his mouth, sucking on them as though it will give him the release he craves so badly. Lance licks Keith’s fingers from the knuckle up to the fingertip, desperate for something even bigger than fingers to fill his mouth.

A small smirk grows on Keith’s face. “There we go. Perfect. Good boy, Lance.”

Suddenly, the fingers are yanked out of his mouth and Keith’s other hand is swivelling him so that his chest is pressed against the door. His hands scramble for purchase, nails leaving faint scratches on the metal’s finish.

Lance is left whining at the empty feeling at the loss of Keith’s fingers and the constant friction he had while facing Keith. He tries rutting his cock against the door, but Keith pulls him back with one strong arm.

“Ass out , Lance.” With that, he rubs one slick finger gently around Lance’s twitching hole. He hears a sharp inhale, and pushes one finger in to the first digit.

“....m-more…” Lance whispers, and Keith can’t help but give in to what Lance wants. He pushes his finger in slowly until he is knuckle deep in Lance. He pushes his finger in and out until Lance begins to move his hips himself.

When Keith has two fingers in Lance, he finds the spot that has Lance yelling in surprise, bucking against him. At three, Lance is gasping and moaning breathlessly as he fucks himself on Keith’s fingers. Tears are still dripping from Lance’s eyes from the sheer pleasure that Keith is giving him.

When Keith removes them, Lance practically sobs, “Kei-Keith plase, please. Oh, God, please, just, j-just--”

“Just what?” Keith asks, almost innocently, teasing Lance’s hole with one finger.

“Fuck me, Keith! Now!” Lance practically screams -- his first coherent sentence of the night.

Unable to hold back any longer, Keith pushes his pants down and lines himself up, pushing into Lance, his movements barely slow enough for Lance to handle. He stays there for a moment, letting Lance adjust to the stretch.

After a few seconds, Lance begins to rock back against Keith, the two moaning together. Keith pulls out slowly, gently, afraid to hurt Lance.

“Are you going to fuck me or not, Kei-- aaaahh --”

Keith has pulled himself almost completely out of Lance, only to slam back in. Lance is almost screaming as Keith repeatedly thrusts into him as hard as possible. Keith gives into both his and Lance’s desire and holds nothing back, losing himself in the feeling of Lance wrapped tightly around him. Watching Lance’s hands, still clawing for purchase on the smooth wall, only causes Keith’s pace to increase. Keith is overcome with a sense of pride that he’s the one who has caused Lance to fall apart and turning into a mess of moans, only able to take what Keith gives him, no matter how much he wants more.

“God, look at you,” Keith says, panting. “Begging for my cock. I always knew you were a slut. Isn’t that right, pretty boy?”

“Y-y es,” Lance says in a strained breath. He moans.

“You look perfect like this,” Keith says. He bends over, biting Lance’s back harshly. “Made for it.” His hands hold Lance’s hips in an iron grip. Lance knows that he won’t be able to cover the marks Keith is leaving on him in the morning, but he can’t bring himself to care.

Keith leans in, lips brushing the curve of Lance’s ear. “Fuck, baby, you look so pretty. So pretty for me. Are you gonna come for me, Lance? I know you want to.” Keith punctuates each word with another thrust. “Now, Lance.”

Unable to hold it in any longer, Lance obeys, painting the door with his cum. Keith continues to pound into Lance at a relentless pace until Lance is nearly crying due to his over-sensitivity. Keith rubs his thumbs against the dimples of Lance’s back. He pulls out swiftly, moving his hands and covering Lance’s back with his own release.

Lance nearly collapses in exhaustion, Keith settling down next to him. Keith leans back, pulling Lance’s head onto his chest in their shared post-orgasmic haze. Lance shifts up, kissing Keith fervently.

“You were perfect, baby,” Keith mumbles. “So good for me. So good.” Finding Lance’s torn shirt on the ground beside him, Keith says, “Turn around, okay? I gotta clean you off.”

Lance winces as he shifts over to let Keith wipe his back. He hears him whisper into the crook of his neck, “Mine, all mine.” Lance has to hold back a shudder at the bold claim, realizing just how much he wants to be Keith’s. When Keith is finished wiping him down, Lance realizes with a jolt of bashfulness that while Keith is still fully dressed, having only needed to pull up and zip his pants, Lance is still completely naked. He crosses his arms over himself, face red. “Could you, um, give me my clothes?”

Keith reaches behind him, finding Lance’s jeans, the boxers still inside. He gently takes each of Lances legs, threading them into his clothes. “I, um, ripped your shirt,” Keith mumbles, a sense of awkwardness beginning to arise between the two paladins.

“It’s okay, I can still wear it.”

“I also wiped cum with it.”

“Okay, so I guess I can’t. Can I-- can I borrow something? There’s some on my jacket, too.”

Keith finds his jacket, pulling it around Lance and zipping it to his chin.

“I’m not cold, man, I don’t need it to be that high,” Lance says with a laugh.

“Well, unless you want people eyeing up the bite marks on your neck…” Keith has begun turning pink. “Besides, you look pretty in red.”

Lance doesn’t know how to respond, left completely speechless for once. The two sit in silence for less than a minute before he feels the need to break it. “You don’t-- you don’t have to or anything, but do you think you could maybe… hold me? Just for a little while.”

Keith tries not to look as eager as he is at the idea of holding Lance close once again; he isn’t that soft. Regardless, he shuffles closer, leaning back and opens his arms to Lance. Lance settles against his chest, listening to his heartbeat and feeling the steady rhythm of his chest as he breathes. Their arms wrap around each other, neither ready to admit that it was more than just a hookup.

Lance can’t help but begin to doze off, feeling safe and warm with Keith so close to him. Keith can’t help but look at the beautiful boy that he is holding safely against him. He can’t imagine anyone more perfect than Lance, compliant and utterly relaxed in his arms as he falls asleep. Unable to resist, Keith places a soft kiss to Lance’s forehead and rests his chin on the top of his head. He silently admires the way his jacket looks on Lance. He should wear that all the time -- I’ll wear his.

Lance pushes his nose into the crook of Keith’s neck, content to simply rest against Keith’s sturdy form. I’ll never make fun of all that time he spends training again. God, he feels kind of perfect. Keith feels himself beginning to fall asleep as well, overcome with a sense of completion as he looks at the boy in his arms.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Keith has never overslept. Never. He’s such a light sleeper that any noise will wake him up instantly. Lance, too, can’t sleep without something blocking the light and sound from disturbing him. So, when a whistling sound comes from the kitchen, the two snap to attention instantly.

“Is that…?” Lance asks, rubbing his eye. At that moment, he looks around and remembers where he is. He is still trapped in a storage closet. And once again, he begins shaking.

Keith looks at him and gently moves him aside to go to the door as quickly as possible. He knocks on the metal as hard as he can, hurting his knuckles in the process. AS much as he loves what happened between him and lance, Keith still wanted to escape the closet. After a few moments, they see a crack of light appear, Hunk peering around the door, brandishing a knife. He sighs in relief when he sees the two of them.

“What are you guys doing… in… here?” Halfway through the sentence, he notices the torn shirt, the stained door, and the edge of a red mark poking out of the collar of Keith’s jacket -- that Lance is wearing. Lance, who seems to be limping as he rushes to freedom. “...ooooooh. Seriously? You guys are nasty. The kitchen, really? Out. Out. Go away.”

He raises his eyebrows at Lance while Keith is still trying to maintain some semblance of dignity in his refusal to make eye contact. After all, Hunk just found out that he screwed his best friend in a closet in the kitchen. We’ll be talking about this later or What the actual fuck or a combination of the two is being communicated through Hunk’s eyes and Lance is a little afraid to find out which it is.

“Bye, Hunk.” Keith says awkwardly, holding Lance upright with a hand on his waist as they make their way to their rooms. Hunk doesn’t answer, shaking his head in disapproval.

When the two make it to Lance’s room, Lance smiles gratefully at Keith. A thanks, man is on the tip of his tongue for walking him to his room, rather than allowing him to limp alone, when Keith tilts his head up, his hot breath falling on Lance’s neck.

The same feeling from the night before washes over Lance as he down at Keith.

“Next time, you earn it.”