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The Subsequential Death of Lance McClain

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That Shiro was a possessive man wasn't exactly a secret; he'd accepted that part of himself.

It satisfied him on a very primal level to see markers of his ownership on things that are quintessentially (in his mind, at least) his. When Keith, Matt, and Shiro moved into an apartment together after high school graduation, he'd even taken to labeling the containers in the fridge, much to his roommates' amusement.

In the past, Shiro had often given his previous lovers some little token of his - a shirt, sweatpants that always hung a little loose (that got him going like no other), and more than a few hickeys, bite marks, and bruises. He'd keep them close to his side so everyone knew that they were taken, and, to some extent, to ease his mind that they were safe. Then Shiro would always toss an arm around their shoulders or waist, or sometimes slide a hand into their back pocket and squeeze a little.

Nothing could have prepared Shiro for Lance, though.

Lance hurtled into Shiro's life with all the intensity of a falling comet, casting everything else in shadow as he burned and burned and burned. The world crumbled around them as they danced through the noise, Lance's laughter ringing clear through it all, smile shining brighter than any light possibly could.

And Shiro surrendered to it all, gave himself to Lance entirely, and let the noise and the lights consume him.

In turn, Lance had become utterly his. Covered in Shiro's marks, wearing Shiro's clothes, and eventually, as Shiro very quickly determined after seeing Lance wearing his old varsity jacket, using Shiro's last name. Lance Shirogane.. It had a rather nice ring to it.

Shiro would have liked to say he hadn't almost immediately envisioned what Lance would look like bent over the most convenient piece of furniture when he found him in that jacket, but it would be a complete lie. That deep, primal piece of him stirred seeing his name clearly printed across Lance's back, and the desire settled in, clinging to him like barbs.

No one had ever made him feel it so intensely, but then again no one could compare to Lance.


Ah, there it is.

Adjusting his aim, Shiro pushed four fingers up, massaging Lance's prostate leisurely. Oh, he could watch Lance squirm on his desk all day, flushed cock leaking all over his belly, jacket spread out to the sides of his heaving chest. Lance was unbearably beautiful like this - so desperate to get off, completely at Shiro's mercy. So, so perfect.

"What is it, darling?" Shiro crooned, grinning as Lance's legs spasmed around his hips with a particularly long stroke. "What do you want me to do? You have to tell me, beautiful, otherwise I can't help you."

"God, I, aaha.." Beautiful cobalt eyes squeezed shut, back arching up as Shiro curled his fingers and rubbed in relentless little circles. Lance was so tense around him, hips jerking down in little trusts helplessly. "Hnng, p-please. Hah - god, please, let me cum, Daddy. Please!"

"Aww, can't you hold out for just a little longer, baby? You're doing so well, darling, so good for Daddy. You look so perfect. You can hold out just a little longer, can't you baby boy?"

Tears lined Lance's eyes as he shakily nodded, trying so hard to be a good boy for his Daddy. Shiro feathered kisses along his face, tongue darting out to catch any salty tears that escaped. He murmured little praises against Lance's skin about how wonderful he was, how pretty he was, how proud Daddy was of him.

”Such a good boy, and all mine. My perfect baby boy.”

Shiro’s; his, mine, my. Possessed, loved, cherished, owned. All Shiro’s, and he fucking loved it.

Lance's whining reached a feverish pitch as Shiro’s lips moved down, rolling teasingly over his nipples before tugging. Drool spilled out of Lance’s mouth, hazy eyes blown so wide Shiro couldn’t even see the blue anymore. Shiro wanted this more than anything, to make Lance forget everything but —


Oh, and how wrecked he sounded. His chest heaved on a dry sob as Shiro roughly pushed his fingers against his prostate, those beautiful long legs squeezing almost painfully around Shiro's waist, forlorn, ruby red cock twitching uselessly. 

"Kashi - daddy, Shiro - p-please, please, please, please..."

Well, since he asked so nicely.

”Yes, baby, you did so well. You can cum now, beautiful boy,” Shiro crooned, kissing along his sweaty collarbone. “Did so wonderful for Daddy.”

With a hoarse moan, Lance clamped down around Shiro’s fingers and came... and came, and came. Lance’s eyes went cross from the intensity of his orgasm, and Shiro was left rutting helplessly against the side of the desk for any friction to ease the borderline painful ache in his pants. God, Lance was going to be the death of him — no sane man could survive this torture.

Finally, Lance collapsed back on the desk with a shaky sigh, head lolling to the side as he caught his breath. Shiro gently eased his fingers out of Lance, who whined at the emptiness, to scramble for the lube he literally just had, holy shit where is it, Shiro is going to lose his damn mind if he wasn’t in Lance in the next few seconds, godfuckingdammit

Shiro could have cried in relief when he finally found the damn tube, smooshed slightly under Lance’s side.

”Pretty boy,” he praised, quickly unbuckling his belt and pushing his pants and underwear half-way down his thighs. “Look at how sloppy you are, baby, covered in your own cum and hole begging for Daddy to fill you..”

”Please,” Lance whined out, voice absolutely ruined. “Daddy, I want you in me already...”

In lieu of answering, Shiro fell back over Lance to kiss him as he lubed himself up, lips moving languidly against Lance’s. It was slow, sweet... a complete contrast to what Shiro plans next. Lance was pliant underneath him, utterly yeilding to Shiro’s gentle lead, and only spread his legs a little bit wider when Shiro pushed at his entrance.

Please,” he breathed again against Shiro’s lips, hot breath rolling over his face. And Shiro couldn’t wait anymore.

Pulling back, Shiro rested his hands on Lance’s hips as he pushed in to the welcoming heat. Lance was wet around him, somehow still so perfectly tight despite Shiro being four fingers deep in him for the past half-hour. Desire burned through him scorching every inch of his body, but he went easy, took it slow for Lance who still trembled slightly.

Once Shiro bottomed out, he distracted himself from that godly heat and irresistable urge by tracing idle patterns into Lance’s hips. Lance took a few deep breaths as he adjusted, shifted a little, whined lowly in his throat like a wounded animal, and demanded: “Move already.”

And, well, Shiro only had so much patience to make Lance beg. He was human after all.

Pulling almost completely out, Shiro just barely managed to wait until Lance looked up at him — confused, eyes still black with arousal, flustered — before slamming back in and revelling in the way Lance shouted, hands scrambling for anything to grab onto. Shiro set a brutal pace, every bit of chasing his own pleasure as Lance willingly gave himself up beneath him.

His — Lance was his, gave himself to him. Shiro adored him for it, made sure he was well taken care of. Made sure he knew who he belonged to but gave him everything.

The desk creaked under the sudden force, and Lance’s hands slapped against the wall behind him as a brace, weakly meeting Shiro’s trusts as he slammed back in, head tossed back and keening. His cock dribbled more on his stomach, and Shiro pushed down against it, smearing his cum around, and felt himself inside Lance with every slide home.

It turned frenzied then. Shiro shifted their positions, Lance’s right leg over his shoulder, fucking into him at a punishing pace, fingers pushing harder into his stomach. Lance garbled out nonsense as Shiro’s fingers rolled over his nipples, and god, Shiro was so close, so close and it ached; he never wanted this to end. Wanted to keep Lance here, pretty on his cock, forever. Wanted to let the world know Lance was his.

“Fuck, you’re so good to me,” Shiro purred, pushing up against where he knew Lance’s prostate was and purposefully aiming for the abused organ. “So wonderful. Taking me so deep, so, so fucking good, Lance. Beautiful baby boy. Can you come again?”

Lance managed a tiny nod, eyes squeezed shut as he took and took so goddamn perfectly, all for his fiancé. Shiro kissed along his calf, hand trailing down from Lance’s chest to gently take his half-flaccid cock in hand and pump it roughly in time with his thrusts.

No noise came out of Lance when he came a second time, cum dribbling onto the table, clenching visciously tight around Shiro. His hips stuttered, came to a stop fully inside Lance, pleasure racing through Shiro as his orgasm slammed into him so hard he might have collapsed if Lance’s legs didn’t lock him in place.

Slowly he blinked the stars out of his eyes, and eased gently out of Lance, cock twitching from hypersenitivity. Lance whined softly when he was fully out, flopping uselessly on his back again to just breathe, spread out and limp like a dead fish.

As he pulled his pants back up, Shiro’s heart jumped in his throat, eyes trailing over all the red, angry spots on Lance’s gorgeous skin. All the way to the white smeared along his ass from where Shiro had pulled out, and to that damn jacket that started it all. Lance was perfectly claimed, and no place left untouched by Shiro’s greedy hands. 

That primal piece of him sat back and purred, sedated for the time being.

”Are you okay, babe?” Shiro asked softly, gently sliding his hands under Lance’s back and hoisting him up into his arms bridal style.

”Mmm... I’m dead,” Lance replied, head slumping down against Shiro’s chest.

Shiro laughed softly, and pressed a few little kisses under Lance’s ear. “I think you killed me first, beautiful.”

”A dead man can’t fuck me half-unconscious.”