Keith is sick of this. People can’t just call a Lyft and then fucking evaporate from their pick-up location. He’s looking out his window for his rider but he’s coming up the block slow. Yeah sure he’s trying to find this kid, but there’s no need to put another entrance into any of these nice little houses. Besides, his insurance bill after something like that would make him to walk out into Main Street at rush hour.
It’s been like five minutes, and Keith is just about to cancel this ride when his phone starts ringing. Aaand there goes his chance to get off early. It’s an unsaved number with a Cali zip-code. He tries to keep the irritation out of his voice when he answers.
“Hey,” the guy on the other end says, “I’m right in front of the Shop-N-Save.”
It takes pretty much all of Keith’s willpower to not let then why didn’t you just use that address come out.
When Keith pulls up to the Shop-N-Save, he bolts his rudeness to the inside of his chest because his rider is cute as hell. And let’s get one thing straight—Keith’s not a creep. Those few times his Lyft drivers have hit on him were some of the most uncomfortable moments of his life, and he’s not enough of a thoughtless piece of shit to do that to somebody else.
But this kid’s attractive. He’s tan, like they’re not smack dab in the middle of winter’s asshole right now. Curly brown hair just this side of frizzy. Eyes blue like a flame. And to top it all off, the most adorable little smile Keith’s ever seen. Keith’s doing his level best to keep his face neutral.
Cute Boy (wait, no. Lance. One look at his own phone tells Keith this kid’s name is Lance) gets in the passenger’s seat. And that should’ve been Keith’s first sign, really. But Keith’s always been a little slow on the uptake whenever the uptake didn’t have to do with getting your ass kicked from Brownsville to Fort Worth. So he doesn’t question it.
They’re sitting in that silence for a while, you know the one. The one that strangers always agree to hold for each other whenever they have to be together for a long time. Keith’s driven around three blocks away from the Shop-N-Save, and he’s pulling up to a red light when Lance starts talking. Sign number two.
“Do you know if it’s gonna get much colder up here? Don’t think I can take much more of this.”
Keith glances at Lance briefly while they’re at the light. Bad move. The kid has the longest eyelashes Keith has ever seen on a guy.
“Uh, I’m not sure.” Somebody please give Keith his own late night talk show like yesterday.
The light turns green and Keith tries again. “It usually doesn’t get below the forties here.”
Keith can literally hear the smirk when Lance replies with,
“Climate change in the Lone Star State?”
Keith huffs a little laugh. “Guess there’s no climate change where you’re from?”
Lance hums. “Oh there sure is. California’s probably gonna be its own damn island by Christmas. And Florida’s already like two inches above sea level. If the wind blows too hard from the Atlantic we’re basically gone.”
Keith laughs for real this time, almost misses the turn on Sherman and Park.
“You move around a lot?”
“I have roots in a lot of different places. Cubans are kinda like that, you know? You can screw us all if we’re in the same place, but what are you gonna do when we split up?”
“Cuban, huh?” Keith absentmindedly looks up at his phone. He hates the sound of the GPS lady’s voice so he never uses it. They’re thirty minutes away from Lance’s destination.
“Yes sir.” Keith ignores how hot his face gets at that. “You too?”
“Do I look it?”
Lance scoffs. “That’s like asking if the moon looks the same every night. We look like a
bunch of different things.”
They’re at a stoplight again. Lance continues,
“You have your blanquitos, sure.” Keith looks over at him and he’s smirking. Is that a smirk? It’s definitely a smirk. “But you also have me.”
Keith smirks back. Sure, this cutie threw him off his game a little bit at first, but there’s something inside his stomach that fucking sings whenever a challenge comes up to meet him like that.
“And you’re hard to find?”
Lance shrugs. “I’m like twenty percent of the population, if we’re getting technical. But I’ve also been told that I’m one hundred percent a fool. Don’t know how many people can really claim that.”
Keith laughs while he’s watching the silver Civic in front of him take off. He takes off behind it.
He swallows before he talks again, makes sure his voice is as even as the ocean with no tides.
“My mom’s Argentinian.” Was. Why the hell is he telling this random stranger this? He hears the blood banging around in his ears.
Keith is so good at this, keeping his voice even when he’s talking about home. Talking about her. So why does it sound like Lance has already figured out something’s wrong? Why does it feel like he’s shaping everything he says after that around Keith’s discomfort?
And Keith suspects that that’s exactly what he’s doing, because after that, Lance says, in a careful voice just this side of casual,
“I loved Argentina when I went. It’s beautiful.”
Keith looks away from the road to glance at him. “You’ve been?”
“Mmhmm. Study abroad. The food was awesome. The stares were… not.” Lance laughs off the discomfort, and Keith frowns.
“That’s fucked up.”
Keith catches Lance’s shrug out of the corner of his eye. “Eh. You get used to it.”
It gets quiet again, but it doesn’t get awkward. It hasn’t been awkward, not even once. In this car with this boy. They’re fifteen minutes away now.
Keith hears some shuffling, and when he looks over, Lance is slipping out of his navy blue coat. There’s a white long sleeve tee shirt underneath, and Keith has never really been big on fashion, but he can tell Lance knows what he’s doing. Like he’s explaining himself, Lance says, in a tone way too adorable for a grown ass college (?) student,
Keith chuckles, and Lance follows it up with,
“How are you not dying right now?”
Keith remembers the black winter coat he’s wearing, one of the heavy duty ones with the padding on the inside.
“Temperature’s a state of mind.”
Lance laughs, and Keith smiles. “Are you trying to snatch the title for the biggest fool in this car?”
“You think I could?”
Lance laughs again. “No freaking way.” It gets quiet again. Then,
“But it is super warm in here. I’m sweating just looking at you.”
Keith tries to sound playful, but his heart’s still beating a little quick inside his chest when he says,
“Would it make you feel better if I pulled over and took it off?”
Keith almost swerves off the road. If he hadn’t been driving since he was like eleven, he would’ve definitely sideswiped that poor little Saturn to his left. Lance’s voice is lower, playful yeah, but lower. Is he… flirting? Seven minutes to go and this kid’s flirting with him.
They’re at a red light again, so Keith looks over. And Keith’s gotta say, looking into that boy’s eyes, head-on? It’s like looking into the mouth of a damn star, those ones that burn so hot they leave everything else in the dark quiet behind.
Lance isn’t smirking now. He’s smiling soft, small… fucking flirty, Jesus Christ.
“You want me to take off my jacket because you took off yours?”
Lance shrugs. “Reciprocity, right? And also what’s that corny ass line about the customer again?”
And then, Lance does the most forward fucking thing. This is how Keith knows that he’s a bold ass motherfucker. He leans over and brings a hand to Keith’s jacket, the part that’s just over his left pec. Keith only remembers the embroidered yellow lion when Lance murmurs,
Keith’s breathing hard now. Trying to keep an eye on the light, doesn’t want to get (justifiably) rear-ended by someone if the light turns green and he doesn’t react quick enough. Trying to keep an eye on this cutie, this absolute minx . Keith’s never met a kid quite like him. Even the guys at his second group home in El Paso, the bi-curious ones that might’ve just been bi, weren’t this audacious.
Lance picks at the little lion for a little while longer, then, face all serious, asks,
“Is this okay?”
Keith doesn’t even think about it, really. “Yes.”
The light turns green and Keith turns right. They were two minutes away from Lance’s destination at that red light. Now the GPS is re-routing.
Keith drives to his own apartment complex, just a few blocks away from that red light. The whole time he’s driving, Lance is dragging his finger up and down that damn lion. Sometimes he brings his whole hand to Keith’s chest, but he doesn’t do anything else. Keith guesses he doesn’t want them to crash. How practical.
Keith’s apartment complex is shaped super weird. There’s a giant stretch of wall that juts out from the complex proper, just grazes the woods right behind the set of buildings. There’s a space between the wall and the woods just thick enough for a car to squeeze through, as long as its driver knows what the fuck they’re doing. You can’t see into this spot on foot unless you walk all the way around the wall, so this is where a bunch of the high school kids from Keith’s complex come to smoke weed after school on weekdays.
And this is also where Lance from Cali and Florida is dragging his hand along Keith’s chest right now, as soon as he cuts off the engine. He reaches for Keith’s zipper, and Keith raises a brow.
“Thought you wanted me to take it off myself?”
Lance cocks his head a little to the side. “You’d do me the favor?”
It’s Keith’s turn to smirk, and instead of saying anything back he unzips his jacket, slow. Holds Lance’s eyes the whole time (kid’s not the only one who can be bold as fuck when they wanna be). He slips out of it and throws it behind him into the backseat.
Now they’re both breathing slow, heavy. Lance narrows his eyes and brings some bright white teeth down into his bottom lip. Keith can feel the bottom of his stomach getting warm.
“Feel better now?” Keith challenges.
Lance chews his lip, thinks about it. “Hmm I’m on my way there.”
Lance brings his hands back up to Keith’s chest again, dragging them all along the front of Keith’s wine red sweater. Keith catches a thin wrist, and Lance looks up at him.
“What can I do to help?”
Lance gives him a brilliant smile, and Keith isn’t entirely sure who moves first. Could’ve been Lance, ballsy, pretty fucker that he is. Could’ve been Keith, the reactive little shit. All Keith knows is that they’re kissing now, and it inherits the trajectory of their whole conversation— steady and kind of sweet at first, but already picking up speed, already coming down from that crest into that valley fast. It has that same easiness from before though, that same guileless calm that Keith is starting to think Lance just carries with him everywhere he goes.
Keith’s tongue is in Lance’s mouth now, and for all his talk Keith really thought that Lance would’ve wanted to be the dominant one. But while Keith’s licking the roof of his mouth Lance whimpers, and Keith figures Lance is fine with where they are right now. Keith’s running his hands through those adorable curls and holy shit they’re so fucking soft . He pulls back to nip lightly at Lance’s plush bottom lip, and the moan that Lance lets out speeds down the highway of his spine right to his fucking dick; it’s not passing Go, it’s not collecting $200 dollars.
When Lance pulls away from his mouth, it’s to lean into Keith’s neck and kiss it, right next to his Adam’s apple.
Keith remembers the time he was on his board, right next to the We Will Wash You on Madison Ave, and caught a hill too fast. The whole time he was waiting for a fear that never came. The only thing that showed up was this unbelievable exhilaration, and it fell down inside his chest, found its way to the water pipes of his veins and stayed and stayed and stayed until he could feel it moving around inside him, acting like his blood.
Lance is that feeling with soft brown skin. He kisses up and down Keith’s neck, real soft. Slides a slow hand down the middle of Keith’s chest and stomach, slips it under his sweater and now Keith can feel a warm palm right against the skin below his belly-button.
Then, Lance’s hand goes lower, until it’s resting on the seam of Keith’s jeans and Lance is holding onto his zipper.
Lance pulls away to look up at him with those fucking eyes like twin comets. And it sounds like the most precious, earnest thing in the world when he asks,
And right about now Keith has the resolve of a Walmart CEO in a room full of lives they can ruin. So he says,
Lance unbuttons his jeans, pulls down the zipper. There’s a little opening in the front of Keith’s briefs, so Lance reaches in and wraps warm, slender fingers around the length of him. Keith’s almost completely hard at this point, and Lance looks satisfied with himself. And why shouldn’t he be? Shit, kid managed to get Keith’s tongue down his throat and his hand around Keith’s dick in what, a little over an hour? There should be a prize for stuff like this, like a Pulitzer for speed come-ons.
Lance shifts over the console a little bit, gets more comfortable before he wraps his hand more solidly around Keith’s base. Then he slides his hand up Keith’s dick to the tip and dips the pad of his thumb into the beading pre-cum.
“Fuck,” Keith whispers.
Lance looks up at him, forces Keith to keep eye-contact while he opens up that gorgeous red mouth and takes in Keith’s dick.
He starts off slow, tongue swirling around Keith’s tip like they have all the time in the world in this damn car. But like most people with dicks, Keith’s head is fucking sensitive. So it doesn’t really matter what speed Lance starts off at, soon Keith feels his hips start to move, trying to catch Lance’s steady rhythm. Keith slips a hand into Lance’s hair to distract himself from the shit his hips want to do, from the thrusts he can feel swirling up under his surface like ocean currents.
Lance keeps a hand on his base, strokes it in time with his soft little sucks at the head. Then he picks up his pace. And fuck , now Keith can feel the whole span of that warm, wet mouth. Shit, it’s been a minute since Keith’s last blowjob but did they always feel this good? Guess it probably helps to be super fucking attracted to whoever’s sucking your dick. Cause Keith’s never wanted to fuck someone more within the first hour of meeting them than he does right now, staring down at pretty, pretty Lance.
“ Fuck ,” Keith hisses. He’s not usually this vocal but it’s like he can’t help it.
“You’re good baby, so fucking good .” Lance moans at that, and Keith thinks it was an unconscious reaction (not to suck his own dick or anything; then again, is there anything that’s more of an ego boost than a cute boy moaning around your dick because he literally can’t stop himself ?). Keith thinks it was reflexive, but he takes note of it, and before he knows it, he’s scratching lightly at Lance’s scalp, telling him how fucking good he’s doing , how his mouth feels amazing. Lance moans again, and Keith bites his bottom lip when he watches Lance bring his unoccupied hand to his pants to bring his own dick out.
That’s when Keith starts to thrust forward a little bit, starts to move in time with Lance. He can’t decide where to look—down at Lance, at his dick (his dick) splitting those full lips, those closed eyes with those long lashes hanging over his cheeks. Or at Lance jerking himself off because he got that fucking turned on from sucking Keith’s dick (his fucking dick).
When Lance opens his eyes Keith knows something dangerous is about to happen, he just knows it. Lance quirks an eyebrow at him, and soon he’s taking Keith in deeper and deeper until Keith can feel the hot, tight walls of his throat around his dick, and his breath against his lower stomach as Lance exhales through his nose. Keith’s eyes fall closed. Holy shit, he swears he’s about to ascend.
“Oh my fucking God . Mmm, so good babe, you’re so good.” When Keith opens his eyes again, Lance is looking up at him, eyelashes wet with tears. Keith reaches out and puts a hand on Lance’s neck, rubs a thumb along his throat and all he can think is my dick is in here .
When Lance pulls off he’s panting hard and grinning harder.
Lance brings Keith up to his mouth again, and Keith knows it’s not gonna be much longer. The shit that Lance is doing with his tongue right now, it’s almost too quick to catch. He takes in as much of Keith’s dick as he can, strokes what he can’t reach with his hand. Always always always goes back up to Keith’s tip. And here’s the fucking kicker—modifies his pattern according to Keith’s moans, Keith’s thrusts, the tightness of Keith’s grip in his hair.
“‘M gonna cum, babe,” Keith tells him. And he expects Lance to pull back (like most people would). He expects him to finish Keith off with his hand, or to let Keith do it himself.
Honestly, he should really stop pretending he knows what the hell this kid’s gonna do. Because Lance just looks up at him with those fucking solar flares and moans, then nods .
“Oh my God,” Keith groans.
Lance runs his tongue up the length of Keith’s dick then dips it into his opening. That’s what does it. Keith’s coming now, eyes clenched shut, teeth tearing a hole into his bottom lip. His orgasm hits him like a rogue semi on an icy Canadian road. When he’s done cumming and he opens his eyes, blinks away the bleariness, he looks down at where Lance is pulling off his softening dick.
Lance looks up at him and opens his mouth, tongue out. His cum’s all gone. Fuck .
And Keith has no idea what to say after something like that, so the only thing that comes out is,
Lance grins, and Keith decides he looks way too fucking smug for somebody with his hard dick still hanging out of his pants.
When Lance sits up Keith pulls him into another kiss, makes this one messier. Slides his tongue up against Lance’s soft palate, strokes the roof of his mouth, keeps Lance’s tongue in its place. And Keith doesn’t think he’s ever kissed anybody this hard before but every single thing Lance does or has done since Keith’s met him has felt like a dare. And Keith can’t leave dares alone for shit, not even if you fucking paid him.
Keith pulls back to kiss up and down Lance’s neck, right where his jaw ends, and Lance whimpers again. And since Keith’s not harder than titanium anymore he can focus on messing with Lance.
“What was that?” he breathes into his ear.
“You gonna touch me or what?”
Keith bites the lobe, and Lance moans loud. Fucking noted.
“Yeah,” Keith says, moving the hand Lance still has around his dick to replace it with his own. But Keith still remembers a little something something from the very beginning of this tryst, so he says,
“After all you deserve it.” Keith bites his earlobe again. “Loved that fucking mouth.” Kiss down his neck, right below his ear. “You know just what to do with it.” Kiss again. “So fucking good, Lance. And you even swallowed all my cum.”
He starts stroking Lance’s dick now, and the kid’s so fucking responsive, so generous with his moans, his cute little whimpers that Keith feels like he could get hard again right now, refractory period be damned.
Keith pulls his hand along the length of him, comes up from his base to his tip.
“Faster,” Lance tells him.
“Yeah?” Keith’s kissing that little dip where neck meets shoulder. “You wanna come?”
“ Mmhm ,” Lance mewls.
Then Keith remembers that his school just had its sex week, full of free toys and lube samples and all. So he sits up a little, gently grabs Lance’s chin and adjusts his head to make sure their eyes are level.
“Lance,” he says, “can I finger you?”
And now Lance is licking his lips (leaves them even redder than before) and nodding.
“Yes, fuck yes .”
Keith can feel himself smiling. “Then get into the backseat babe.”
Climbing over a console into the backseat of a car has no business looking as sexy as Lance makes it look. But alas. Keith grabs his wallet from the cup holder next to his seat and moves the sample packets of lube inside it to his pocket. He climbs into the backseat, where Lance is already making himself cozy up against the door.
It’s a tight ass fit but no one’s complaining. Keith settles between Lance’s legs, props a knee on the seat while he uses his other leg to keep his balance. Keith unzips Lance’s jeans all the way, and with some high-level horny finessing, they both manage to get them off until Lance is sitting there in just his tight white tee and black briefs. Keith goes to pull the underwear off too but Lance is already tucking his thumbs into the band, and he gives Keith a look that’s more schoolboy than man-eater, but still as hot as all nine of Dante’s levels of hell. He brings his knees up to his chest so he can pull off the briefs and holy shit the kid’s flexible. No wonder he climbed into the cramped ass backseat of a Nissan with no hesitation.
And when Keith finds out just how flexible Lance is? You better believe he’s gonna exploit that shit.
After the briefs come off Keith makes Lance wrap his arms around his legs and keep them against his chest with a rough hold these .
Okay so Keith’s an ass man, through and through. It’s something he knows about himself, something he knows well. And Lance’s round little ass is the perfect mid-afternoon treat. Keith almost wishes he had Lance on his stomach, so he could really see how pert it is. But when he looks up and Lance is biting his lip, color running high on his cheeks, even through his dark skin, Keith decides that he really really likes him on his back.
Keith brings a dry thumb to the cute, puckered little hole in front of him, gets a pleased mmm in return. Keith pulls out one of his packets of lube while he’s gently pushing against Lance’s hole. He almost rips it open with his teeth before he remembers what the fuck lube tastes like.
He slicks up two of his fingers and brings one of them to Lance’s hole. He circles his entrance, spreads the lube before he dips in just the tip of his finger.
He looks up and Lance’s eyes are closed. He’s still biting his lip, and he’s humming softly while Keith’s thrusting as shallowly as he can manage into that tight heat. He goes in a little deeper, and he really can’t help but fuck with Lance, so he says,
“Well? You gonna let me in?”
Keith expects something snarky when Lance looks up at him, but all the kid does is pant a little bit, and a few moments later Keith’s sinking his finger as deep as it’ll go. Lance is so fucking hot inside, and Keith remembers exactly why he loves shit like this so much. He pulls it back out, just as slow as Lance started out when he was blowing him. Thrusts back in slow, languid. Keith’s fucking him so gentle right now, nothing like the kisses he was giving him before.
Lance knits his eyebrows and says, with a sort of strained little laugh,
“So you’re a tease?”
“Guess we have one more thing in common.”
Lance is getting a little less tight, so Keith pulls his finger out all the way, coats both his pointer and his middle in some of the extra lube clinging to the inside of a plump cheek. But he stops himself from going back in immediately, instead follows up what he just said with,
“You want two?”
And Lance nods, eyebrows still furrowed so adorably.
“Can you take two?”
“Mmm,” Lance hums, “I’ve taken much more than that.”
That’s when Keith surges forward, pushes Lance’s bent legs to the side a little bit so he can slip a tongue into that clever little mouth. And Lance is paying him back in kind this time, tongue coming up to meet his just as hard. That is, until Keith presses both his fingers into Lance as far as they’ll go. And they do go pretty far—Keith may have only been using one finger before, but he worked him over real good. He’s nothing if not thorough.
“So tight,” Keith mutters against Lance’s lips. Lance fucking keens .
Keith pulls almost all the way out, before he works back into Lance again. He builds up a steady rhythm, and cute little Lance gets all submissive again. Keith’s licking into his mouth now, picking up his pace. Fucking into Lance’s tight hole until all Keith can hear is the sound of them kissing, and the hot ass moans Lance lets out whenever they pull apart to breathe.
When Keith remembers why they’re really back here, he’s pulling away and taking his fingers out. Before Lance can really protest Keith’s unwrapping Lance’s arms from his legs and pulling them apart, arranging them so that his thighs are on either side of Keith’s head. Lance is so fucking hard he’s leaking onto his taut stomach, and Keith looks up at him as he takes his dick into his mouth.
“Oh carajo .”
And Keith doesn’t remember much regular Spanish but the kids in all his group homes always made sure he kept up with the curse words. Guess the foster care system taught him something after all.
Keith slips those two fingers back into Lance’s hole, and breathes out steady as he takes Lance all the way to the base. He figures the kid’s suffered long enough.
The car’s a fucking litany of sí sí sí and dámelo and fuck , Keith can feel his dick waking up in his pants. He’s thrusting as quick as he can into Lance, searches out Lance’s prostate until with a breathless moan Lance let’s him know he’s found it.
When Keith runs out of air he pulls almost completely off of Lance’s dick, but keeps his fingers going. And he knows that he told himself he’d stop fucking with the kid, he knows that. But ever since he realized just how responsive Lance is something’s been knocking at the back of his mind.
So he pulls off Lance’s dick completely, keeps his fingers inside. He comes back up to Lance’s mouth, folds him basically in half (and the kid’s still not complaining holy shit ).
“Lance?” he breathes into his ear.
“ Mm .”
“Lance, babe, I have a question.”
“ Mmng, fuck .”
Probably not fair of Keith to hit his prostate like that before he could answer. He’s still smirking to himself though.
“Can you,” Keith looks down at where his fingers are stretching Lance, at where his rim’s wrapping so sweetly around them.
“Can you cum with just this?”
Lance looks up at him with watery eyes, and his cheeks are even redder than before but fuck he nods (Keith’s more than half hard at this point).
“Good boy,” comes out before Keith can really stop it, and from the moan Lance gives him he can tell he doesn’t mind one fucking bit.
Keith buries his face in Lance’s neck, goes faster than before.
“Good boy,” Keith keeps going, “ such a good boy. So tight, so pretty. So fucking good inside. You gonna cum, Lance? Go ahead, baby, cum.”
He hits Lance’s prostate a few more times and then he feels him tightening up. Lance is babbling now and holy fucking shit is that hot.
“ Keith ,” he’s saying, “ Keith , fuck. Mmmm gonnacum . Dámelo, guapo. Apúrate .”
And Keith catches all of that, in both languages, so he scoots back down as quick as he can manage, and gets his mouth on Lance’s dick just in time to catch his warm cum on his tongue.
Keith swallows it all (he’s gotta give as good as he gets, right? Keith’s all about equity). Licks up all the cum still coming out of Lance’s dick in slow spurts. Drags his tongue along the length until Lance is whimpering, oversensitive.
Lance slips a hand into Keith’s hair, a little hesitantly, and Keith laughs.
“What?” Lance wants to know. And when Keith looks up at him, he’s pouting a little bit. So fucking precious.
“You just sucked my dick within the first forty five minutes of meeting me, but you’re thinking twice about touching my hair. You’re just,” Keith grins, “hard to place.”
Lance laughs too. “I mean, so are you. You were so damn standoffish before but then you fingered me in the back of your car. On shift .”
Keith hums. “Technically my shift ended like,” Keith looks over at the dashboard clock, “fifteen minutes ago? The fingering came after that.”
Lance chuckles, and it’s the cutest fucking thing, somebody strike Keith down right now.
Keith raises a brow as he grabs Lance’s underwear from behind one of the headrests.
Lance shrugs while he’s pulling his briefs on. “Don’t worry, it’s kinda hot.” Keith passes him his jeans while he continues. “Though I gotta say, I was kind of pissed that the first hot Lyft driver I’ve ever wanted to fuck looked like he wanted to run me over with his car.”
Keith grins. “Didn’t stop you though, did it?”
Lance looks up from where he’s finished buttoning up his jeans.
“Wasn’t about to let it. Like they say, el que no llora no mama.”
Keith leans back against his door, throws an arm behind the headrest.
“And for los gringos in the car?”
Lance’s pretty eyes are full of laughter, and Keith’s gotta say, it’s contagious.
“Something along the lines of ‘you can never get what you never ask for.’ You know, we need to get some of that latinidad back.” Lance quickly adds, face getting more serious than Keith’s seen it before, “that is, if you want it back.”
Keith thinks about it for a little bit, and now he’s wondering if his mom ever sang to him in Spanish when he was little. Keith knows that his dad was Korean, but he died before he’d even been born. Spanish was the only language, besides English, that ever grew up with him. And that had to count for something, even if Keith had forgotten most of it.
“Yeah,” he tells him, “I do.”
“Great!” And Lance sounds so fucking genuine Keith feels like his heart wants to do some reformed Grinch type shit and grow three sizes. Lance leans forward, over the console, and grabs Keith’s phone from its stand on the dash. He presses the home button and holds it out to Keith, so he can put in his pass code. When Keith does that, he watches with a raised brow as Lance clicks around his phone for a little bit. Keith knows he should be a little bit more concerned about a perfect stranger (a perfectly hot stranger who he just fucked… wait, he’s getting distracted) scrolling through his phone, but he feels so damn calm right now. Besides, there’s really not that much to see.
“Aaand ahí lo tenemos.” He gives the phone back to Keith. A contact screen is looking back at him. Lance saved his number.
Keith can’t help but smile as he takes the phone back. “So you’re gonna teach me Spanish?”
Lance shrugs again. “Guess so. Bet you’ve never had a teacher this hot though.” He winks.
“ And you’ve never had a teacher you fucked before.”
Keith makes a noncommittal noise, and Lance gasps.
“Thought I was the only hoe in here. I was starting to get lonely.” He reaches into the passenger’s seat to grab his phone.
He unlocks it, and Keith hears some quick clicking. Lance realizes Keith’s watching him and grins. He leans towards Keith, kisses him on the cheek and says,