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Scent Me, Like One of Your French Girls

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“Keith,” Lance tried to get his boyfriend to calm down, but the older man didn’t stop. Didn’t even bat an eye when Lance pulled at his hair, nor when Lance tried to pinch his side. “Babe, Kei, I need you to—teeth, Keith!”

There was no fear in his voice, but whenever Keith gets in this biting trance, he never stops to think about Lance’s neck—some cases his thighs—when his fangs decide to show up for the party. There wasn’t anywhere for Lance to go, pinned to the bed with his big Galra boyfriend covering him.

“Kei, hey,” Lance pulled back, hands cupping Keith’s face. “Your eyes are doing that glowing thing, babe. Reel them in, I need you in your right mind right now.”

Keith huffed, trying to go back to Lance’s neck but growled when his boyfriend didn’t allow him to. “Don’t. You don’t smell right.”

“Hey! I smell just fine, thank you very much.” Lance shrieked, “I take three showers a day, which Shiro keeps yelling at me for but he’s not the one that has a regime to keep up on. There’s a lot that goes into—”

 Keith whined, dead ass whined, burying his face back in Lance’s neck. Knowing there was no way Keith was going to pay attention to him, Lance let him have his way. Keith purred, happy and content with going about his way of biting and rubbing against his boyfriend.

Lance allowed his head to be moved to the side, letting Keith rub his face into Lance’s skin. Lance didn’t think any of it was sexual, seeing as Keith just kept releasing these soft noises and kept petting Lance. Small kisses were placed when he was done, and happy rumble left the back of Keith’s throat.

Lance rolled his eyes when Keith leaned back to look at him, satisfied with his work. “You done?”

“Better, you smell better.” Keith hummed, eyes losing the yellow tint and going back to the dark—damn near black—brown they were. “Don’t smell like him.”

“Who?” Confused, Lance just waited until Keith answered him.

Keith growled, “The general, he kept touching you. And, and he kept smiling and rubbing your neck. You smelled like him. I didn’t like it, don’t want you smelling like no one else.”

Lance thought back to it, they were on a plant with too many syllables and too many limbs, but Shiro told Lance to keep that last observation to himself. Allura wanted to talk with their military and see what they to offer. General Xenotytytlao was one of the best, the leaders of the planet said. Encourage Voltron to see what the General was about and hear his war stories.

Being the first to admit, Lance didn’t really care too much. He was courteous enough to listen but at the same time, he didn’t want to hear about the number of lives that were taken—especially when he knows that story all too well. But he sat there, between Hunk and Keith, listening to the strategies the General had in mind.

“Wait, hold up—what is that?!” Lance had cut the General off and gawked at the machine in front of him. It’s was something similar to the rifles back home, but the gold outline and three separate heads caused him to be intrigued. “She’s a beauty.”

“That she is,” General Xenotytylao said, coming up behind Lance. “She’s one of the few of her kind. Shoots up to 100 miles, as you humans say, giving off 10 rounds in less than 1 dobos.”

Lance felt his mouth watering, Pidge somewhere in the back-muttering gross, but Lance's eyes were stuck on the piece of art in front of him. “I would give anything to use of these.”

Xenotytylao places one of his many hands on Lance’s shoulder. “Wanna take it for a run?”

“Hell yeah!”

Lance doesn’t remember that many touches, doesn’t know much of what Keith saw because he was so into the rifle but if it was troubling his boyfriend this much—Lance’s positive he’s going to be rubbing cream on his neck for the next month. Keith got really mouthy.

“He kept touching you,” Keith grumbled, face going back to Lance’s neck. “Don’t like it. Smells weird.”

Ah, he thought to himself, Keith’s nose was always stronger and now Lance lost the smell of family—of Keith. It may not be evident to him, but to someone who’s sense are top tier, Keith can pick up on the slightest changes that happen with Lance. Lance was now smelling of something unfamiliar and not safe, so Keith needed him to smell like home.

“Okay, tiger,” Lance smiled gently, “Have at it then. Didn’t mean to let your scent vanish.”

Keith hummed, teeth tracing Lance’s throat. The younger laid there, still, while Keith nibbled at his skin and teased until it was red from irritation. Lance closed his eyes, allowing Keith to have free reign over everything, knowing his boyfriend will be fine once he’s happy with his work.

Later when Lance’s able to get a word in, he’ll explain to Keith that he never meant for his scent to disappear and that Keith needs to say something so that Lance can make sure it doesn’t happen again. He’ll also scream at the bite marks on his neck, but he’ll also let it slide because Keith stands behind him and poke at the bruises until Lance is liquid in his arms.

He’ll groan and moan about all the marks he receives after that—his thighs again, really Keith?—but he’ll let it all go because Keith’s walking around with this smug look and happy that Lance smells like him.

 

So, he won’t say anything this time.