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“Keith’ll take me home. Ain’t that right, mullet?”
Keith grunted, though he gave Lance the stink eye.
Shiro was worried. Despite elated they had put their differences aside for the evening to celebrate his birthday, if he knew Keith, or Lance for that matter, it was just a delay of the inevitable. Keith’s passive barbs and Lance’s aggressive slurs had been accumulating since they arrived five hours ago.
Their dynamic was necessary for the mood of their group. As Hunk and Pidge were destined to spiral into technical language, as Allura and Coran were destined to laugh from their own internal jokes, as Matt and Adam were destined to have fun at Shiro’s expense (properly milking the role of ex-boyfriends), so too were Keith and Lance destined to be at one another’s throats.
Shiro wasn’t the only one who thought so, apparently.
“Ah,” Coran looped his arm around Lance’s shoulders, “why don’t I take you home, my boy?”
Lance laughed, “Because you live on the other side of the city, Coran. Keith literally drives by my place.”
Hunk volunteered second, with similar results.
Allura volunteered third, with similar results.
Pidge did not volunteer. Her pastime was watching the world burn.
Shiro looked at Keith, who was waiting three steps away. He’d said his goodbyes and was looking increasingly taciturn the longer Lance deflected everyone’s offers. At the moment Shiro was certain he couldn’t look more put out, Lance wove their arms together and…Jesus. If looks could kill.
“Are you guys going to be alright?” Shiro asked point blank.
Keith looked him in the eye, but stayed unreadable. Dammit, Shiro thought, he’s too experienced a liar.
“I’m not going to murder Lance and dump him in the ditch on the crossroads of Main and Juniberry, if that’s what you’re worried about.”
“Specific,” Pidge grunted. “Send pictures.”
“Sure.”
Lance blanched.
Shiro lifted his good hand to see them off, something curious settling in his gut.
When he’d disappeared from Keith’s rear view mirror ten minutes later Lance murmured, “Shiro’s onto us.”
“He knows us too well,” Keith shifted gears with a subtle grunt Lance could never admit he found sexy.
“Years of tutoring us through com college, I guess.”
Keith smirked. They paused at the intersection Keith threatened to dump his body in. He eyed the ditch, half covered by thorny brush, and felt his mood sour as his gears turned. “Keith…”
“Hm.”
“You’ve told me a thousand times but tell me again—why aren’t we telling them that we play?”
“Because it’s none of their business,” Keith returned easily, patiently. “If it’s really eating you—given that it’s the sixth time you’re asking—then you can tell them. But I’d rather you didn’t.”
“Because you’d rather be caught dead than admit you’ve been having sex with me?”
A pause.
“Lance, look at me.”
Begrudgingly, he did. The lights flickered to green but Keith’s eyes stayed on his, fierce and unrepentant. “I absolutely do not regret playing with you. Ever. But my sex life isn’t for others to know. I feel comfortable in my privacy.” A car horn behind them sounded, Keith didn’t budge. “And you know why.”
“I know why, but they’re not some sadistic ex-boyfriend sharing nudes without your permission. They’re our—can you please drive, you’re making me nervous—they’re our friends. They’d never do that to you.”
Keith drove, but for the first time he looked a little sad as he looked away. “I know. I know. I just. I’m. Ugh.”
Lance put his hand on Keith’s nape and stroked apologetically. “I’m sorry.”
“It’s not you, it’s me.”
“No—no, it’s me. I know you prefer to be discreet. I shouldn’t have asked.”
“It’s stupid. I should’ve gotten over it by now.”
“Take your time. It’s wrong of me to force you.”
“But you’re not wrong.”
“Look, it’s not my place,” Lance sighed. “When you’re ready, if you’re ever ready, you can tell whoever you like. I came into this knowing that you wanted to keep it on the down low. I’ll respect that agreement.”
Keith’s fingers twitched on a turn. “If you want to tell Hunk you can.”
Lance eyed him.
“But no-one else.”
Lance hesitated. He dropped his hand and said, “No, no. I won’t.”
“You just said—”
“I know what I said. But no, you have your reasons and I respect that. I should respect that. I’m sorry I pushed.”
Keith smiled bitterly, “Make up your mind.”
“Sorry,” Lance turned to the window. “You know I think while I talk.”
“Yet we love you anyway.”
Lance hit him. The truck swerved.
“I am driving!”
They reached Lance’s complex in one piece. Keith greeted Mrs. Gonzales and offered to take out her trash while Lance meandered up the stairs. Keith let himself in a few minutes later, made a B-line for the kitchen sink where he scrubbed his hands and gloves to kingdom come. He pinned them up in the bathroom where Lance was brushing his teeth.
“Where’d you move the mouthwash to this time?”
“Hin ‘a hakhak sli.”
Keith ducked between Lance’s legs and opened the cupboard to find unopened Listerine. They were side by side for a moment, then Lance left for the bedroom.
“You okay?”
“Hm?” Keith walked in fingering his belt. “Why?”
“You seem out of it. Like…pensive?”
Keith snorted.
“What?”
“Pensive.”
“What, did I use the wrong word?”
“I didn’t know you even knew that word.”
Haughtily, “Do you know that word?”
“That’s besides the point.”
“You don’t, do you.”
Keith tossed him on the bed and crawled into his lap and they laughed into each other’s mint flavored mouths. Chuckling gradually gave way to broken breaths and pleased, telling moans and short questions.
“Can you dom today?”
“I’d love to. Want me mean?”
“No.” Kiss. “I’ve been good.”
Lance grinned a little wider and settled his broad hands on Keith’s ass and pulled back a little. “Can I tie you up?”
Keith’s eyes lit up. “Yes.”
“Suspended or on the bed?”
“On the bed. I, um.” He looked down, gathered words, and Lance rubbed his hands up and down the sides of Keith’s outside thighs in encouragement. It wasn’t precisely sexy. They forwent sexiness a long time ago.
Keith tried again, “I’d like to be at your mercy. A-and edged.”
Lance blinked, “I thought you didn’t like edging.”
“I’d like to try again.”
Lance looked uncomfortable for a heartbeat.
Keith observed, “You don’t want to.”
“I didn’t do a good job last time.”
Keith nuzzled their noses together and Lance’s face screwed up in a grin. Keith murmured that it was fine. “I’d like to try again. I’ll be more vocal this time. Promise.”
Lance kissed him. “Okay. Alright. Words?”
“Kerberos for stop, Altea to slow down, Marmora for go.”
Lance kissed him. “Do I call you slut?”
He shook his head. “Keith.”
Lance startled. “O-oh,” it felt more intimate, somehow. “Okay.”
“Do I call you Lance or daddy?”
Lance grinned. “Surprise me.”
Keith nodded.
“Ready?”
“Yes, daddy.”
Lance was a little disappointed he chose not to call him by name. He supposed he could have requested but…he wanted to know what Keith would choose.
It felt like there was a divide between them, no matter how much Lance systematically tore him down, no matter how much they’d learned one another’s idiosyncrasies enough to leave their negotiations fluid. They knew their limits—within the bedroom. Lance wondered if what they had was purely sexual.
Were they even friends?
“On your knees,” Lance kissed his throat. “Not sure why you asked for mouthwash earlier. Unless you were cleaning your mouth for me?”
Keith, kneeling, peered up from under his bangs for that wonderful helpless doe-eyed stare. “Yes, daddy.”
Lance touched his cheek. “Now you’re going to clean my cock.”
Keith zealously licked his lips. “Please, daddy.”
Heady with power, “Get to it.”
Keith undid the belt with whiplash efficiency, tapped Lance’s belly and Lance lifted his hips to accommodate his jeans and briefs being yanked down in one fluid stroke. As his baby negotiated with unraveling the material from his ankles, Lance pulled his shirt over his head. When he could see again, Keith was staring up at him.
“W-what?”
“You’re hot.”
“W-what?”
“I said you’re hot,” he braced his hands on the sensitive, quivering inside of Lance’s thighs and leaned forward to raze his tongue from dark and curling happy trail to shallow belly button to the crease following hip to groin. Lance significantly coloured from the display, from the sensation, from the compliment.
“You’re very attractive, Lance.”
“You choose now to tell me?”
“It occurred to me now.”
“It only occurred to you now? We’ve been doing this for—”
“I didn’t say only,” Keith replied. Sensing that Lance was about to question him further, he planted his tongue at the base of his cock.
Lance curled forward, dominance and questions leaving him for a moment as he purred. He wasn’t yet at full mast, but he was more than half-awake. Keith jolted when Lance chuckled, “I can feel the blood leaving my brain.”
Keith burst out laughing, then Lance burst out laughing, and then Keith licked up in one broad long lap the underside of his dick and Lance held the back of Keith’s head and scratched in appreciation.
He nibbled on the head and stayed there, sucking mildly with his tongue probing the slit. Lance shuddered over him, fingers a little more insistent in his hair. Keith was drooling as he worked down from the head and up again, down the shaft a little further, then up again, his throat hungry all the while.
Lance could feel that hunger all the way down to his balls. He murmured, “Wow, you’ve been wanting to do this for a while.”
He felt Keith nod. All dinner, he thought. He’d been hungry, but his mouth and throat always felt empty. Now, he felt his eyes flutter closed and his desires run a little rampant. His ears keyed into Lance’s sounds. He worked a little faster, felt the head of Lance’s cock breach the back of his throat on again off again.
Lance started panting, and where his voice punched out it was a little high and breathy. Keith looked up and when their eyes met he felt their cocks throb.
“Nn, don’t do that to me, baby.”
Keith cocked an eyebrow. Do what?
“The eye thing,” Lance hissed. “You know I’m a sucker for—hng!”
The eye thing, Keith thought absently, taking Lance down further still, pulling up until he was nearly all off before diving anew.
The “eye thing” they discovered early, and it was Lance’s weakness. He was quick to dissolve into a slobbering mess if he made eye contact. It was worse if it were prolonged for the same amount of time he was being stimulated somewhere else. He was always desperate in those moments.
Keith often weaponized that to his advantage to tip Lance over the edge.
“You’re sucking like—ah—wow,” Keith was certain Lance went cross-eyed for a moment. “When did you get so good at this?”
Was he really? He just…wanted to taste Lance. And when he got here muscle memory and starvation did the rest. He sunk his nails into Lance’s bare calves to communicate his own desperation, and Lance’s hold on his head was firmer in response.
“May I—hn—can I fuck your face?”
Keith nodded and let go.
Lance held Keith’s head steady and thrust into his mouth, keeping his eye on his playmate all the while. Keith stayed calm, flushed but content, hands curled lightly around the back of Lance’s bent knees. If he was in distress he could always—tap tap.
Two taps for stop.
Lance drew back, breathing deep, and Keith sucked in air the moment he was able.
“Are you alright?”
“F-fine,” Keith leaned into the hand that was provided. “Just couldn’t breathe for a minute.”
“Was that my fault?”
Keith shook his head. “Out of practice, I guess.”
“Wanna do something else? I can go down on you.”
“No daddy,” and Lance straightened. “I want to please you. Finish in my mouth. I’m ready.”
Lance spared a lingering, loving look and brush of thumb on the cheek, then he went to town. He was seconds away before, he worked himself back up to it, and Keith, good subservient Keith, kept his mouth wet and greedy. Then he rolled his ravenous eyes up.
“Oh shit!”
Keith swallowed and swallowed and Lance convulsed a little, giggling despite being oversensitive, “Aw…fuck you.”
Keith chuckled while lapping the inside of his thigh.
“Insatiable today, aren’t you, Keith.”
Keith looked up.
“How are you feeling?”
“Marmora, daddy.”
“Stand for me.”
Keith stood and was bracketed by Lance’s knees. Lance took his time to skate his shaking fingers up Keith’s sides, careful not to make his touch too light otherwise he’d get smacked for tickling him. He plunged under the hem, rolled his thumb in circles on glorious warm, taut skin.
Keith had gotten a little squishy since he stopped fighting in those MMA rings. He was far from unfit, however. If anything, he was healthier now. No esoteric eating habits, no weird gauntness out of the blue. Lance lifted the shirt and kissed a mole on his belly.
Keith squirmed.
“Am I tickling you?”
“No. It feels good. Can I touch you?”
“Of course.” He felt fingers stroking long aisles through his hair not a second later. He continued to kiss and lap at Keith’s belly, his sides, his rapidly reddening chest, and at last he pulled the shirt off altogether.
Keith, in public, was unapproachable. His hair fell in ocean black waterfalls overs his ears and shoulders, framing a thin face of thin long lines. He was all black and white, and pretty the way the electric blue of a bug zapper is fascinating.
Keith, in private, was still these things, albeit a little more human. When he smiled the room warmed, when he reached it was with the hesitance of the touch-starved. He was forever earnest, and Lance felt that as Keith’s fingers splayed over the brown of his naked back.
“Wow,” Lance murmured on Keith’s clavicle. “Your bones are pretty.”
Keith spluttered, “My bones?”
“Yeah, like how they make indentations in your skin or whatever, where I can see them they’re shaped nicely.”
“All bones look like that.”
Lance licked the shallow valley of his breasts and caught Keith looking at him, insecure and dubious and seconds away from imminent combustion. “Take a fucking compliment, Keith.”
Keith bloomed pink, like paint getting dissolved in a soaked canvas. “Then give me one!”
Lance sunk to mouth at the top of his jeans and Keith shut up, because Lance’s tongue was laving beneath the material and the contrast of materials—dry, chaffing jeans against wet, sensual tongue—was just a little bit divine.
Keith moaned his appreciation. Lance squeezed his ass in reply. Keith stroked Lance’s hair and shoulder in encouragement. Lance slowly, slowly unbuttoned, gracefully had his baby shimmy out. Then supported him to sit in his lap where their erections touched. They kissed.
“I think it’s fair to say we both like kissing,” Lance mumbled against Keith’s teeth.
Keith grinned. “Hm.” He sat, liking the sensation of naked skin on naked skin. “After I taught you how to use your tongue, yes, it’s been ‘aight.”
Lance laughed, “What! I’ll have you know,” kiss, “that the ladies,” kiss, “loved my kisses.”
Keith murmured something about When Harry Met Sally.
“What?”
“Never mind.”
“Hm. Beautiful as this is, babe, I’d like to see you dressed in rope.”
“I’d like to dress in rope.”
“Sit on the bed?”
“Don’t take long. It’s cold.”
“I’ll be right,” kiss, “here.”
Keith moved. Lance moved to the trunk at the foot of the bed and dug between the sheets to find the rope the lube the toys… “Keith?”
“Yes, daddy?”
“I know we didn’t discuss this before but how do you feel about me blindfolding you?”
Keith considered this. “I’d…rather see you.” He suddenly smirked. “Your cock went boing.”
“Boing?”
Keith tilted his head. “Mhm.”
He looked looser now. Likely was enjoying himself, and giving up the responsibility of sustaining a permanent glower. He was grinning so broadly that Lance could see his weird canines, sharp and a little askew such that when he bit he left real marks.
Lance leaned over the bed to feel them on his thumb and Keith sucked it, moaning happily. “Daddy?”
He was whispering. Lance leaned close, “Yes, Keith?”
Keith kissed him. “Nothing.”
Lance was enjoying this facet to submissive Keith. It was rare…and vulnerable. He’d thought to send Keith home after this, but maybe he ought to let him stay the night.
“Turn for me.”
“Yes, daddy.”
“Arms behind you.”
“Like this?”
“Bent.”
“Like this?”
“Good boy.”
“I like being good.”
“Happy to hear that, baby.” And he got to work.
He made a beautiful package. Arms bound behind him folded such that the palm of each hand cradled the opposite elbow, legs pinned under him with his heels bound to the apples of his ass. Lance ran his fingers over and under his work when he was done, Keith’s back to him, and Keith turned to look at his face.
“Purple is your colour, Keith.”
“I like red. Or black. Or white.”
“I know you do. I’ll find white for you next time.”
“White would look good against your complexion.”
“You think so?”
“Mhm.”
“How do you feel?”
“Marmora.”
He kissed the back of his neck. “Let’s loosen you up a little.”
“Yes, daddy.” He exhaled softly at the first slick fingers to circle his rim. Lance’s teeth gnawed on the flesh between rope on his shoulder, and his hand braced on Keith’s left thigh traced nonsense patterns. It was all very peaceful, like lying in the threshold of beach and sea.
Keith was dozing as Lance fingered him, truly, and Lance let him, still murmuring sweet nothings, stroking his thigh, kissing his nape.
“I changed my mind,” Keith yawned.
“Hm? About what?”
“Don’t edge me.”
“What do you want?”
“Can you fuck me slow please?”
“Okay, let me unbind you first.”
“Nooooo…”
“Are you sure?”
“Marmora.”
Lance chuckled. “What does that even mean?”
“It all started when I was seven—”
“Okay, never mind. Timber.” Lance pushed him into the soft of pillow and duvet and Keith oofed a little but otherwise made no sound of complaint. Lance squeezed Keith’s cheek. “You look good enough to eat.”
Keith wiggled.
“Ha-ha, okay,” and he licked the slick loosened muscle by unspoken command. Keith’s moan was wanton and grateful.
By now Keith had dissolved into a goopy puddle. When their eyes occasionally met Keith would smile a little, reassuring. He was quiet, but he breathed even and his fingers squirmed when he was especially content. With one hand on Keith’s toes and his eyes open Lance had a full read on Keith at all times.
Keith jerked a little suddenly.
“Do you want something?”
“Can you—um.”
“Mhm?” he kissed the slick hole.
“Can you suck my balls please, daddy?”
Lance abided without further prompt and Keith moaned low and sudden. He whimpered when Lance spread the broad of his tongue up his perineum: his toes curled. Lance alternated his attentions and Keith’s ears went pinker and pinker. His sub was shaking eight minutes later to the undulation of tongue and finger.
Keith sighed when Lance dressed back, but whimpered, abruptly volatile and abandoned. Lance’s humming steadied him, some nonsense wordless song, but it sounded pleased and close. Keith settled.
“How do your hands feel, Keith?”
“Fine,” he flexed his fingers and felt Lance check them.
Lance slipped a pillow beneath his hips and pressed Keith down into it. Keith hissed at the contact at first, then rutted a little.
“A little misbehaved today.”
Keith stopped, expecting punishment. He felt lips bloom in random patches across his back instead. He was a different sort of breathless when Lance came up to his neck, caging him in, licking the shell of his ear. “I don’t want you to move.”
“Yes, daddy.”
“You’re gonna get fucked. What do you say?”
“Thank you, daddy—oh,” Keith arched into the slick fingers that easily slid into him. His existence felt watery the way Lance worked him open. It was musical. Consistent. Irresistible. Noisy. But Keith couldn’t bother be embarrassed because he was good, he was doing good, his dom seemed so pleased with him—
“You’re doing very well.”
Keith would purr if he could.
“Can you take another finger?”
“I’ll take anything you want to give me.”
Lance dropped his head and Keith jumped at the pressure. Startled out of character: “Lance?”
“I’m okay.”
“…did you like that?”
“It was a good line.”
Keith relaxed until he stopped thinking about the fact that it wasn’t a line. It was his truth.
It took work, but Keith trusted Lance. He wouldn’t trust Lance with his motorcycle, his car or his taxes. He wouldn’t trust Lance to not put the red sock in white laundry. He trusted Lance to be honest with him, though. He trusted Lance enough that he would turn his back and close his eyes and let Lance touch him. He trusted Lance to film them. He trusted Lance to not tickle him awake.
Keith had the thought occur once and then again that he might be a little in love with Lance. And that was fine. Keith figured it would be hard not to after they’d been so transparent and mutual from the beginning. It felt good to be in love with Lance. It felt good after a year and a half of panic and mistrust during a spell of therapeutic promiscuity. Now Lance was his only partner. And that monogamy, while it felt entrapping in the beginning, was reassuring while his mind was mush, his bones jelly, and his ass and balls dripping with lube and spit.
He roused faintly when Lance dressed back. He jerked faintly when he felt the familiar hot press of Lance’s blunt head against his hole.
“Okay?”
“Yes.”
He rocked forward—the breach made Keith close his eyes and exhale. He relaxed. Lance rocked forward and then back, a little deeper, fingers dipping into Keith’s hips as his patience was tested. Lance rocked forward and back, going in a little deeper each time, until he was fully saddled and Keith was letting out low wordless trilling groans at the feel of Lance’s length filling him up and the long drag as he pulled out near completely.
Lance’s hands danced over his lower back briefly. His voice was light, high breathy, strained: “Any requests, Keith?”
Keith felt his dick pulse. “No,” and Lance moaned a little, because Keith had tightened up when his name was called. “Please keep doing that, daddy.”
“Okay.”
Keith felt like dozing beneath the push and pull of Lance in and out of him. It felt so total, like his body on the threshold of the beach and sea. Sometimes he felt alone, and then Lance’s fingers would slip under his restraints and check his skin, and his gut boiled with unspoken affection.
When Lance steadily picked up speed he didn’t complain, rather he panted his assent, and eventually he was being plowed at a brisk pace, prostate jarred every other thrust that left him needy and drooling.
“D-daddy, can I—”
“Come whenever you’re ready, Keith.”
Lance bit his lip suddenly, halting at the release that tore through his body, and woke up from the white-out panting and with his knees embedded in Keith’s flesh. Keith was shivering beneath him in that telltale way and he relaxed. For a moment he thought he’d come before his partner.
Still balls deep he leaned over and pressed a kiss to wet skin. “Can I pull out?”
“No,” Keith’s eyes went a little wild.
“Alright. But I’m going to untie you now.”
Keith nodded. Lance’s soft cock slipped out of him eventually, inevitably. By then Keith’s limbs had been rubbed awake and Lance properly cooed how wonderful he was, how it was good that he spoke about what he wanted, how proud Lance was that he was comfortable to communicate this avidly. Keith hid his face, embarrassed and pleased, and Lance didn’t stop petting and complimenting him.
“Let’s grab a shower, hm?”
Keith sighed, “I can shower when I get home.”
“I’d feel better if you stayed the night,” Lance put the rope away while keeping a hand on Keith’s ankle, “but if you insist I’ll give you coffee before you go.”
Keith was quiet for three heartbeats. Eventually, “Do I really look that out of it?”
Lance softened at the image of Keith, red limbs splayed where Lance had left them, eyes dark and drooping, back rising and falling with slow, sated breaths. Lance grinned apologetically, “If you weren’t talking I’d think you were asleep.”
Keith closed his eyes. “Oh.”
“Shower?”
“Tired.”
“But you need to go pee and clean yourself out.”
“Tired.”
“I need to change the sheets!”
Keith groaned something indiscernible, but if Lance had to guess it was a reiteration of the above.
“If anyone should be tired it’s me. I did all the work!”
“I got pounded into.”
Lance was about to retort but spluttered a laugh out instead.
Keith was eventually maneuvered into the shower and was alert enough to look after himself while Lance changed the sheets before joining him. They crawled into bed naked, lips or hands always on each other, and Lance fell asleep smelling his coconut conditioner in his lover’s hair.
In the morning, in oversized shirts stolen from Shiro when he wasn’t looking, Keith and Lance exchanged sleepy hellos over toast and jam and marmalade, radio soft in the kitchen and playing lazy footsie under the table. Keith’s phone rang and he left it to ring in the bedroom. Then it rang again and he left for it grudgingly.
“Hi Shiro,” Lance heard on Keith’s return trip. “Yeah, I’m up. What’s up?”
Keith paused.
“You’re where?”
Lance looked up.
Keith looked alarmed. “I—I’m not there right now. I’m at Lance’s.”
Lance watched as Shiro must have said something else and Keith’s face went very, very still. “Uh.” And then there was an exclamation even Lance heard, a half-shrill half-laughing “What?!”
“Shiro Shiro Shiro—Takashi, will you—oh my god.” Keith sat down in Lance’s lap and Lance angled around him to get his toast. “Shut up. I will kill you.” Pause. “Six months.”
“Ooh, are you talking about us?” Lance sang.
“Shut up, Lance.” Pause. “Yes, he’s right here. No, I’m not putting you on speaker.”
“Put him on speaker!”
“Fine!”
And Shiro was on speaker: “Lance?”
“Hi Shiro!”
“So it’s true. You’re screwing Keith.”
“Screw is such a dirty word. I’d like to think I fuck him.” Slap! “Ow!”
A laugh, “I can’t believe you guys have been going at it for six months and didn’t let it on! Pidge and Hunk bet money on whether or not Keith kept to his promise of dumping your body.”
Keith said he thought about it.
Then came the inevitable question: “Why the secrecy?”
Lance kissed Keith’s shoulder and nuzzled the space there, and Keith knew that half the reason why Lance did so was the rub the toast crumbs off his cheeks, but he accepted the nuzzling as non-verbal support anyway. He said, “I…it’s not. I don’t know. We’re not dating. It didn’t seem like a big deal.”
Shiro made an odd sound, “I suppose it isn’t. It’s a hell of a surprise though.”
Lance’s tongue laved over Keith’s shoulder and he glared. Lance batted his eyelashes charmingly.
“I brought coffee and waffles in case you were hungover. I’m guessing you’re covered?”
“Is it too much trouble to bring them over here?” Lance asked. “I can put some pancakes on. We could feast like breakfast kings!”
Keith’s breath hitched. Lance’s fingers were snaking into his underwear, rolling straight for his balls.
“Sure, if you’ll have me. Sounds like fun.”
“Wanna hang out? Play videogames and watch movies?”
“You sure I wouldn’t be interrupting anything?”
Keith pressed his hand over his mouth when a second hand joined to clasp down on his stirring cock.
“Not a thing,” Lance gnawed at Keith’s shoulder.
“Alright, I’ll see you in ten.”
“Sure!”
Keith wasn’t sure if Shiro had properly hung up when Lance stroked him with vigor and Keith teetered forward to rut against Lance’s erection.
“How do you feel about voyeurism, Keith?”
“Please do not pull these underhanded moves while Shiro is here.”
Lance wiggled his cock free and slid into Keith with very little resistance. “No promises.”