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shut your mouth and let my body talk

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It had taken five years in space for Keith to find his outlet. His teammates - his family - had found theirs long ago. Some of them had never been made to find them, like Lance; yoga could be done anywhere, at any time. Oftentimes, the blue paladin would retreat to his room or the observation deck and spend hours contorting his body into all kinds of positions that had Keith wondering if Lance would disable his joints at will. Hunk channeled his emotions into either baking or meticulously ripping apart any mechanical thing he came across, figuring out what made it run, and then putting it back together with a higher functionality than what he found it with. 

Shiro had taken to reading. Pidge had invented an overlay that could be placed over the Altean novels, translating the words into any Terran language. Shiro didn’t even bother trying to hide how giddy he was to be able to read a book again, and frequently holed himself up in the castleship’s library, curling up in a squashy chair and reading for hours on end, a content smile on his face. 

Pidge’s escapes tended to shift. She hadn’t done much relaxing before she’d found Matt. She’d always been working on some new algorithm to find him, or on some new upgrade for the Green Lion. After being reunited with Matt, she relaxed considerably, playing video games with him, building things, working on the other lions (while remembering to sleep adequately, because even Pidge wasn’t immune to Matt’s weaponized puppy eyes).

At first, Keith’s only respite from the new, harsh reality he’d been thrust into was training. Methodically destroying the training droids (Allura gave him hell for it, but was secretly pleased when Pidge and Hunk rebuilt them into something more challenging), running laps, honing his skills. At first, it had been enough.

Until it wasn’t anymore.

When he finally settled on something, it ended up shifting the dynamic of how the rest of the team spent their down time. Not drastically, of course. Not in any way that meant that the others couldn’t do what they wanted. They just had to, maybe, stay away from the general vicinity of Keith’s bedroom. Or put ear plugs in.

Keith’s mental retreat was more of a vice. 

More than a vice, it was an addiction. 

He craved it. Became temperamental without it. Begged if he were denied it. Consumed it like a man starved, let it consume him like a wave of lava rolling down the slope of a volcano. 

It had the side effect of once again shifting Pidge’s outlet. Shaped it from an outlet into a release, a spout, a fountain. Shaped indents into her thighs where his head fit perfectly into as she clamped down around him. Shaped the back of her neck into an arch as she let her body fly from the bed as Keith indulged

He supposed he should feel a little guilty. The one escape he found that allowed the weight of the universe to melt away also involved pulling Pidge away from the things that she wanted to do. (They’d tried it, once, while she was working - she’d burned herself with a soldering iron and spent the rest of the day with a weird Altean gel pack strapped to her hand.) She’d reassured him, however, multiple times, that having her mind go numb and white and fuzzy at the edges was incredibly therapeutic, and had often led to further breakthroughs with her projects. All he had to do was glance at her, heat in his eyes, a quick tongue on his lip, and she would let him lead her away. 

And that’s exactly what he’d done today. He found her in the lounge, lazily typing away on her laptop. She wore one of his t-shirts, loose on her slender frame, and a pair of long shorts that stopped just below her knees. She was barefoot, her toes wriggling or scrunching up every so often as her brilliant mind worked through whatever she was trying to figure out. Keith stood by the door, arms folded, watching her fingers fly over the keys, smirking at the way her brow crinkled and smoothed. He stepped into the lounge after another moment of soaking in the wild mess of her hair, which hadn’t changed much in five years. Pidge’s eyes flicked up at the sound of his footsteps, and a smirk formed on her own lips, her typing slowing down subconsciously. 

Keith knelt down, his knee resting on the back of the inset couch, and when Pidge looked up at him, he pushed a hand into her hair and pulled their lips together roughly, allowing the kiss to fall tender as she opened up to him. His kiss was a question as much as it was a greeting, a request and a plea, and an expression of the emotions he was so bad at giving words to. Pidge lifted her hands from her laptop, grasping his wrist and cupping his jaw, kissing him back with equal amounts of fervor. She wasn’t so great with words either, and Keith loved her all the more for it. When he finally pulled back, his breath was heavy and damp and needy, and Pidge huffed a laugh against his lips.

“Yeah, okay,” she agreed softly. 

She’d never told him no, never sent him away, and yet his relief every time was a cool wave washing over him and soothing away his anxiety. She slid her laptop off her legs and slipped her small hand into his, and he pulled her up to her feet easily. She moved fluidly, stepping up onto the floor and into his arms in one easy motion. He wrapped his arms around her waist and lowered his lips to hers again, wishing not for the first time that he could simply toss her down and take her here on the couch, the walk to his room seeming unbearable in its distance. Pidge hummed against his mouth, her lips curving into a smirk as she pressed her body against his and felt his growing erection pressing against her abdomen through their clothes. She broke the kiss with a nip to his lower lip, drawing in a sharp breath through her nose.

“You shaved. Like, ten minutes ago,” she said, mildly accusatory. Keith cocked a smirk at her, his eyes glimmering with amusement. 

“I can be sweet,” he murmured, rubbing his smooth cheek against hers. Pidge chuckled, closing her eyes and leaning into his touch. 

“Fucking sap,” she said. Keith rolled his eyes.

“Whatever, let’s go.” He leaned forward and brushed his lips against the shell of her ear, tongue darting out to curl around it, winning him a hiss of pleasure. “I’m hungry.”

Pidge made a noise, half indignant and half aroused, and Keith grinned at her, his eyes crinkling in barely concealed delight. He squeezed her hand and drew her backward, leading her down to his bedroom. 

He barely resisted the urge to cram the two of them into a utility closet as they passed it, though he did fail at resisting the tempting heat of her mouth, pressing her against a wall more than once, hiking her legs up and grinding against her core as his tongue plundered her mouth, a taste of what he’d be doing to other orifices very soon. Pidge indulged him, her laughter each time cutting off in a groan as his kiss sent shockwaves down her body, lighting her arousal on fire and driving her patience away. Pidge was growling into his mouth, hands fisted in his shirt, shoving him back toward his door when they finally reached it. One of Keith’s hands flew back to smack the control panel, sending the door sliding open and them stumbling in. She took care of closing the door, leaning back against it to catch her breath as Keith stared at her with a predatory look in his violet eyes, panting harshly. Smirking at him, she hooked her thumbs into the waistband of her shorts, dragging them down her hips, revealing slim thighs -

Keith snarled, hands shooting out to grip her hips to hold her still. Pidge continued to smirk up at him, devious little shit that she was, and he touched his forehead to hers with a groan. His hands gripped the sides of her neck gently, and he kissed her, rough and wet and brief. He fell to his knees and he dragged his hands slowly down her body, palms pressing into her sides. His thumbs brushed across her breasts, and of course she wasn’t wearing a bra. Did underthings not exist in her wardrobe anymore? He groaned, burying his face into her hard stomach. His hands continued their trek down her body, squeezing her hips, scratching down her thighs. He pressed his palms down her legs, prickly with unshaven hair, kissing just below her navel, reverent and soft. He resisted the urge to tickle her ankles, drawing his hands back upward, his thumbs leading inward. He groaned again, cursing under his breath.

Her arousal shone on her thighs, shiny and slick and quickly driving away Keith’s threadbare self control. He grasped her left leg and hoisted it up, resting her foot on the little table by his door and baring her cunt to him. He leaned in, kissing her mons and reveling in the full body shudder that coursed through her. Her folds were slick and only open from her leg being spread so far. He kissed her a little lower, and she canted her hips forward. It could have been a demand, but they both knew it for what it really was - encouragement, an offering. Beneath all of that, a gentle request for Keith to relax and enjoy himself, to cast off the burden of the universe and simply be a man with human desires and cravings. As his thumbs found her outer labia, gently opening her to him, Keith thought that that was his favourite part about the way they crashed together. That she did all of this for him. That she wanted him to let go and indulge and relax. Wanted him to use her body for his own escape from reality. 

So he treated her like a temple, pressing a devout, sacrilegious kiss to the living statue of her clit, basking in the way she hummed contentedly, rolling her hips forward again. He kissed her again, then rocked back on the balls of his feet and stood, dragging her against him and kissing her soundly. She lifted her arms and rested them on his shoulders as she kissed him back, the curve of a smile never really leaving her lips. Keith’s hands flirted down her body and he gave her pert ass a squeeze, smirking into the kiss as she jolted against him. He bent his knees and adjusted his grip to just below her rear, easily hefting her off her feet and holding her against him. She huffed into his mouth, amused, clamping her legs around his waist and burying her fingers into his soft black hair. 

Keith turned and stepped toward his bed, lowering her down onto it gently. Her legs didn’t release him, loosening only enough to allow him to shift onto the bed and hover over her. Pidge rubbed at his sides with her legs, purposefully dragging his shirt up. He twisted his arms back and yanked the shirt over his head, not missing the damp spot on the front of it where her crotch had pressed against him, and if he breathed in a little deeper while he was dragging the shirt over his head, well, she either didn’t notice or didn’t say anything. He flipped his shirt away from him and fell back onto Pidge’s lips, drawn to her like a magnet, secretly pleased with the way her eyes raked over him before fluttering shut in bliss. Pidge was a fantastic kisser, her edges softening as her tongue slipped against his, and Keith felt like he could kiss her for hours. They did, sometimes. In this moment, that’s not what he wanted. He couldn’t wait anymore, even if he tried, even if he were commanded by Shiro in his best Disappointed Voice. Desire burned brighter than the red of his lion, than the red of his blood. His head was pounding and he knew the only cure for it rested between her legs. 

Keith left her lips, smirking at her shortness of breath. He kissed at her throat and gently squeezed her breasts through the shirt of his that she still wore. He’d leave it on this time, he thought. She looked amazing in it, the way it hung on her slender frame, how it draped to one side to expose her collarbone. It was a good look for her, and the sight of her in his shirt with her legs spread for him would have made him weak in the knees if he hadn’t already been on them. He slid back down, kneeling on the floor, dragging her hips to the edge of the bed. Pidge dutifully draped her thighs over his shoulders, her fingers tightening and relaxing around the bedsheets in anticipation. 

He sat back and settled his eyes on the juncture of her thighs, the lips of her cunt covered in enough slick that it caused even the soft, short hair there to shine. His cock throbbed in his pants as he caught her scent, an intoxicating musk that had his mind reeling. He leaned in, peppering kisses along the insides of her thighs as he went, smiling as she hummed happily. He finally came face to face with her hole, he sighed, his hot breath rolling over her lips. He opened his mouth, pressed the flat of his tongue against her slit, and drew it from her perineum to her clit. Pidge moaned, long and low and satisfied, and Keith’s cock let him know just how attractive that noise was. 

Using both thumbs again, he pried her open, gently easing her lips apart until her tight little gash was exposed to him. Hot, he knew it would be so hot when he touched his tongue to it, and it glistened with slick and twitched with arousal. He groaned, burying his face into her thigh. 

“You’re killing me, Pidge,” he mumbled, nipping at her soft flesh. Before she could so much as hum in response, he sought her hole again, pressing his mouth against her fully, rolling his tongue across her clit and sucking on it gently. She cried out, hands flung out beside her, arching from the bed at his sudden onslaught. He gentled his tongue, curling it around her clit once more before delving lower. His mouth covered her slit completely, tongue working her open, sucking on her folds and soaking his face in her slick. He nudged at her clit with his nose and then pressed his tongue into her passage, effectively burying his face into her cunt. 

She tasted like nothing he could have imagined before, and sweeter than anything he’d had since. Tangy and milky if he delved deep enough, slippery and sweet as it dripped from her folds. If he worked her up enough, it slipped down her thighs like an early morning rainfall, sticking to her thighs and making everything a damp mess that he was all too happy to take responsibility for and clean up. He wanted her musky, heady scent in his nose, wanted her honey smeared across his face like warpaint. Keith could live and die with his mouth on her cunt and never regret a moment of it. She was refreshing even as she left him gasping for a another drink, crawling toward the oasis between her legs. 

He hummed, content to work his mouth so slowly against her slit, sucking on her folds and her clit intermittently, rolling his tongue over her and dipping it in and out. One of his hands crept up her stomach to rest at the base of her ribcage, thrilling at the feeling of her stomach and chest rising and falling at an increasingly rapid pace. His free hand fell to where his mouth was, using two fingers to spread her apart further. They slipped almost immediately, sliding through her juices and settling between her inner and outer labia. Above him, Pidge moaned, canting her hips down and grinding Keith’s mouth against her further. It was his turn to moan, then, tilting his head to the side, not dissimilar to when he kissed her mouth, his tongue flicking rapidly over her clit. She gasped, one of her hands flying up to grasp at the one pressed to her chest. Her fingers curled around his hand, pressing her nails into his palm, and his chest tightened with affection, momentarily pausing to kiss her folds. 

Keith pulled his face back, feeling the cooler air hit the slick on his cheeks and grinning. He moved his fingers up, pinching her clit between them and rolling it, violet eyes trained on her as her back arched off the bed again. She released his hand, grasping at the bedsheets again in a vain attempt at grounding herself. He let his fingers trail down her opening just enough for him to slide them into her slick channel. Pidge whimpered, an open mouth whine that Keith wanted to hear more of. He drew his fingers out and then drove them back in, twisting them as he went. 

Oh,” she moaned, her voice an octave higher than it normally was. Tight and high sounded good on her, Keith had decided long ago. He slowly pumped his fingers in and out, twisting and curling them, his eyes heavy lidded and his cock painfully hard in his pants at the sounds that spilled from her lips. “Fuck,” she whispered. “Harder.”

He obliged almost immediately, never able to resist any demand she made. He began to piston his fingers in and out of her cunt, his lips descending on her again, tongue fluttering over her clit. Her little gasps and moans grew louder, unhindered and unashamed, having long since lost any care for others hearing her. He pressed his lips around her clit, working his tongue over it at a furious pace. Saliva mixed with her juices, dripping onto the sheets below her hips. His fingers were making the most delightful, obscene noises as they pumped in and out. She was soaked, and with every withdraw of his fingers, a string of clear fluid connected them to her opening, drawing him back in as if it were elastic. Her whimpering grew louder, her breath hitching in her throat. She sat up suddenly, her legs tightening around his head, burying her fingers into his thick black hair. 

Don’t stop, I--” she demanded, cutting herself off with a guttural moan. She tugged on his hair almost painfully, but it only encouraged him, drove him to shove his fingers in harder, twist them more sharply, agitating her clit with his tongue until she fractured around him, shattering like glass. Her moans reached a fever pitch, loud and sharp as the walls of her cunt clamped down around his fingers. He moaned with her, eyes fluttering shut as he fucked her through her climax with his fingers, the tense and release of her walls drawing his fingers in like the vacuum of space. The sloppy, wet noises only intensified, and the whimpers of the last of Pidge’s orgasm went straight to his dick, which had been pulsing painfully in his pants the entire time. He moaned again, lapping plaintively at her cunt, easing his fingers to a slow drag as she came down from her high. He looked up at her through dark lashes, mouth still on her slit, his eyes narrow in amusement. 

Pidge’s fingers were still buried in his hair, and she dragged him up by it and kissed him breathlessly. Her lips were dry from gasping, open mouthed and out of breath, but his own drenched lips more than made up for it. He pressed his tongue into her mouth, letting her taste herself in him. He wondered if she found her own fluids as intoxicating as he found them, thought maybe he didn’t want to share this sweet ambrosia even with her. Her legs were still on his shoulders (and her flexibility still kept him sweating) and she gently bumped them into the sides of his head. He opened his eyes and she had him snared again, her brown eyes glimmering with amusement and challenge. 


It wasn’t a request.

Keith smirked against her lips. “Aren’t rotary phones still a thing?” Her legs tightened around his head and he squeezed the outside of her thighs playfully.

“I haven’t used a rotary phone in ages,” she said. He sunk back to his knees, his eyes not leaving hers as he leaned forward and dipped his tongue into her slit, licking at her fluids. 

“Why not?” he asked coquettishly. 

“I - ah, shit - have you,” she sighed. Keith grinned against her opening, kissing her folds. If his brain weren’t complete jelly later, he’d maybe try to articulate to her just how happy he was that he satisfied her enough that she didn’t feel the need to touch herself anymore. Try to impress to her that she made him feel the exact same way. He’d probably end up stuttering over his words, feeling them catch in his throat and sit there like a half swallowed pill. He was better with his actions, though, so he sealed his mouth over her cunt again, letting every swipe of his tongue tell her what she did to him. Pidge squirmed, crying out and bucking her hips, oversensitive, overstimulated, overwhelmed. Over everything, by the sound of it. Keith savoured every sound she made, every twitch of her body. 

He slid two fingers back into her, and Pidge’s body accepted them easily, squelching noisily in her fluids. He curled his fingers and rotated them, the dirty, wet noises driving him wild. His own neglected cock throbbed in his pants; he thought briefly of releasing himself and wrapping a fist around his aching member, but the thought of deviating any attention away from the writhing, electric goddess in front of him seemed a cardinal sin. Keith suckled at her clit as he worked his fingers in and out of her, his room filling with slick noises and breathy, desperate moans.

“More,” Pidge gasped. He flicked his eyes back up at her - her face was completely obscured, thrown back into the bed, her chest heaving with every breath and whine. Her hands roamed the sheets, grasping and clawing at them, and her thighs shook upon his shoulders. He began to drive his fingers into her more forcefully than before, his knuckles bumping against her pelvic bone, her slick beginning to drip down his wrist. She cried out at the force he applied, and he nearly backed off but for knowing her so well, knowing that the particular noises she was making were only made when she was insensate with pleasure. 

He wanted to put his lips back on her, but with the force he was using on her beautiful little cunt, he found that he had to adjust his angles. He crouched lower, angling his fingers upwards, allowing him to latch back onto her clit and work it feverishly with tongue and teeth and lips. When he began thrusting his fingers in again, resuming his vicious pace, Pidge shouted. She thrashed above him, her small hands grasping at nothing, the muscles in her legs tightening and clenching around his head. 

“God - fuck - yes,” she babbled. “Yes, Keith, fuck.” Groaning loudly, Keith worked at her furiously, his jaw aching beautifully, his wrist borderline cramped, but he couldn’t stop, didn’t want to, not when Pidge was sobbing out above him, when her fluids were sliding down his arm to drip from his elbow. The filthy, sodden noises coming from her cunt began to grow - they doubled, tripled until it sounded like he was was splashing in a tub of water. Pidge made a different noise, sounding nearly alarmed and confused for a brief moment before she cried out again, devastated by another orgasm. 

Clear fluid burst from her cunt when Keith’s fingers withdrew; too shocked to stop, he pressed them back in and when he drew them back again, more fluid cascaded out of her, arcing over his fingers. He dipped his mouth back down to her, groaning, his eyelids shutting as jets of fluid spouted from her cunt and splashed across his face. His eyes rolled back in their sockets and with each pulse of her come on his face, each flutter of her inner walls around his fingers, his cock throbbed in his pants. His hips oscillated, thrusting against nothing. Pidge cried out, her voice hoarse and cracked, and another wave of come poured from her cunt like holy water over a sinner. Keith caught it in his mouth with a vulgar, sordid groan. He swallowed quickly and that incredible, clear nectar might as well have been liquid fire. Every pleasure receptor in his body lit up like she’d struck him with her bayard, and he cursed as she squirted on him again. He groaned loudly, his own hips thrusting, his cock pulsing and suddenly he was coming, untouched in his jeans. His thrusting fingers faltered as his abdomen clenched, and he sucked on her clit desperately. 

The last weak spurt of her fluids trickled down his arm, and she whimpered, her legs trembling violently on his shoulders. His breath came in harsh, ragged pants, and he nuzzled against her inner thigh, smiling tiredly. Keith crawled up her body when he finally figured out how to use the muscles in his legs again. He hovered over her, looking upon her face and falling in love all over again. Her brown eyes were hazy and unfocused, her hair was tangled and wilder than ever from thrashing. Her face and neck were flushed, and if he pulled his shirt down, he’d find her chest splotched with red as well. Her lips were swollen from having bitten them, dry from her panting and screaming. He licked his lips and then covered her mouth with his own, kissing her sweetly and letting her taste herself on his tongue. Pidge kissed him lazily, one hand fumbling down to cup his cock. She smirked against his lips when she felt him soft and damp, and he pulled back, flushed and pouting. 

“Flattery will get you everywhere, sparky,” she murmured huskily. She grasped his head and kissed him again, surprising him again by finding the strength in her legs to wrap them around his waist, grinding her sodden core into the damp spot on his pants. Keith groaned into her mouth, cradling her face with his still wet hand. He felt his cock stirring again, and his mouth quirked upward in a smirk. Pidge dug her fingers into his hair, scratching at his scalp with blunt nails. She loosened her legs around him and pulled back from the kiss, delight flickering in her eyes once again. 

“Back to work, smart mouth.”