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Watch Me Make 'Em Bow

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Being stuck in space, millions of miles away from Earth and like-minded individuals, was starting to grate on Lance.

If he had the choice, of course he would pick joining Voltron. A hundred times over.


Okay, he’ll put it plain.

Goddamn it he was horny.

He growled low in his throat as he thrust into his hand, chasing a decent orgasm for what must have been the 3rd time today. He was frustrated and pent up, no amount of masturbation satisfying enough to scratch his itch. The only distraction he had managed in recent weeks was the call to duty when the Galra were attacking.

Typical the Galra didn’t have the common decency to go attacking some defenceless planet today.

Or yesterday.

Or the day before…

Not that he would wish an attack on anybody – but what were the Galra playing at? They were supposed to be the big bad bosses of the universe: what were they doing, sitting on their asses and twiddling their thumbs?

He huffed an aggravated sigh and gave up, yet again. His cock was flush and angry-looking, desperate to bury itself deep in a squirming omega, to swell up and knot them while they lay mewling beneath him.

“Me too, buddy,” Lance sighed, grabbing a tissue to wipe off his hands, “Me too.”

He groaned as he heard Shiro’s voice over the intercom: “Paladins, make your way to the training deck immediately.” Willing his erection and his frustration away, Lance stood and hastily pulled on his paladin armour.

The team arrived one after another onto the training platform in various states: Shiro prim and proper as always, Hunk smelling heavenly of baking, Pidge with heavy circles hanging under their eyes.

“Late night?” Lance asked with a smirk.

They nodded pitifully. “I think my sleeping pattern has completely shifted trying to crack the code on the latest Galra prisoner reports. And by shifted, I mean winked completely out of existence.”

Lance eyed Shiro carefully, his arms crossed taught across his chest, “Well something tells me we’re about to get tired out…”

And then, there was Keith.

Keith, who had clearly already been here conducting training of his own. Keith, who was clearly irritated that his session had been interrupted. His hair was pulled back in a ponytail to keep that stupid mullet off of his sweaty neck, fringe a mess of fly-aways, arms crossed as he leaned against a wall and kept his sights on Shiro. From here, Lance was certain he could see the guy pouting.

What a baby.

As a team, the paladins got on relatively well once they got over the initial clashes of personality. They were lucky with the composition: Hunk and Pidge were Betas, content to carry on and do their own thing. Even luckier still was the fact that Shiro was mated. If he wasn’t he and Lance would likely have been butting heads every two seconds, the scent of testosterone like ozone before a storm. The only two Alphas on the team would likely have ended up ripping each other’s throats out, especially if there were an available omega around.

So, lucky for them that Shiro was mated.

And unlucky for him that there were no omegas about…

But best not to go down that train of thought right now.

There was one mystery on the team, however. And that was Keith Kogane.

The paladins had absolutely no idea what Keith was: alpha, beta, omega? It was rude to ask out right however, and every time they had tried to lead the conversation down that path Keith either changed the subject or simply walked off. Lance suspected another Alpha with the amount of bickering between the two of them: Keith was a hard headed guy, an alpha if he ever saw one. Luckily their fighting hadn’t gone beyond bickering yet: though Lance expected the truth to be in the pudding if the two of them were ever stuck with an omega together. He was pretty sure the two would come to blows.

And he was pretty sure he was desperate enough to win.

“Right team,” Shiro said loudly, snapping them all to attention. “We’ve had a nice few days of rest – it’s time to get back to training to make sure we’re ready whenever the Galra attack again.”

A resounding chorus of groans but Shiro waved them off, “No ifs or buts – we all know how important keeping on top of our training is.”

They were paired off for various grappling techniques, changing into tank tops and leggings to work on hand to hand combat. Pidge and Keith on one side of the room, Lance and Hunk on the other. Pidge wasn’t great at physical combat and had Keith tutoring them in what steps they could take to gain the advantage. Hunk and Lance were learning how to counteract the other’s abilities: Hunk’s sheer size and strength versus Lance’s agility and quick movements. Every now and again, when one managed to pin the other, they would burst into laughter and clap each other on the back, Lance cheekily winking at Hunk whilst he slapped his ass.

“Lance!” Hunk would roll his eyes and tackle the blue paladin, and the two would burst into fits of laughter again until a stern look from Shiro would silence them and get them back to work.

They carried on like this for some time before Shiro called them to switch. Hunk’s face turned ashen.

“I don’t want to go up against Keith – he’ll slaughter me. You go.”

“No way man,” Lance said, his ego too fragile to be thrown down into the mat by Keith yet again. “I went last time.”

“I’ll bake you a batch of those cookies you like…”

Lance’s gut fell, growling loudly at him at the mere idea. He glared at Hunk, “Two batches. And a milkshake from Kalternecker.”

Hunk grinned and extended his hand, “Deal.”

Lance huffed as he gripped Hunk’s hand and they shook on it. He knew he had gotten a rough end of the deal, but his mind was clouded by the thought of cookies. It wasn’t his fault.

What can he say, he was a weak man.

His mouth grew dry as he approached Keith. The red paladin was drinking from a water pouch, dragging a forearm across his sweaty brow, whisking his fringe to the side. Lance felt his eyes dragging across Keith’s body: the cords of strong muscle under slim arms, how tight that black tank top was against his chest. Keith stood as he approached, turning his back on him to put his stuff down.

Damn, that ass.

What Lance would-

He felt the coil of arousal in his gut and quickly forced himself from that train of thought – there couldn’t be a worse time to pop a boner than in these leggings.

Keith pulled at his ponytail, going to retie it but dropping his hair tie on the ground. He bent over to retrieve it and Lance practically ascended to heaven then and there. Keith’s ass was high in the air, ready for the taking, and his mouth watered at the thought. God, he couldn’t describe how badly he wanted to run his hands over it, dig his fingers in, slap it to feel it jiggle-

Keith turned back to him as he brought his hair up into another ponytail and Lance’s face turned red as he stammered, “I-erm, I need to take a leak!”

That earned him a shrug from Keith, confused why Lance was telling him and not just going.

Lance fled the scene and stood in the bathroom for a few minutes, taking soothing deep breaths and splashing his face with water. Where was this all coming from? Jesus, he knew he was horny – but this was a new low. Fantasising about a team mate that he could barely stand.

He eyes his reflection with resolve, “You’re going to get yourself together, and stop acting like a horny idiot.”

His reflection stared back at him, not wielding any answers to his situation. With a sigh he dried his face and reluctantly returned to the training room.

Keith was doing stretches as Lance appeared, trying to keep limber in his absence. He raised an eyebrow as Lance edged closer cautiously, “You scared about how badly I’m going to whoop your ass”?

Ah good, bickering. This was a good way to distract himself from his traitorous thoughts.

“As if,” Lance scoffs, running through some quick stretches. “Just giving you ample time to prepare yourself for the smackdown of the century.”

Keith rolled his eyes, crouching down into his fighting stance. “Why don’t you shut up and try to put your money where your mouth is?”

And things returned to normal, for a time.

The pair grappled, Keith pushing him hard and making his breath turn ragged. Jesus, the red paladin was fast. Lance would think that he was a step ahead only to find out Keith was reading him like a book, thwarting Lance’s attacks each and every time. His back hit the mat over and over in defeat, forcing himself back to his feet in the hopes of wiping Keith’s smug smirk from his face.

“You don’t know when to quit,” Keith goaded. Lance scowled, taking a small amount of pride from how hard Keith fighting to keep his breaths even. At least he wasn’t going down without a fight.

“I could do this all day.”

Shiro called an end to the session, telling everyone what good work they had done and to go enjoy a relaxing evening.

Keith began to move away and Lance called, “Going running with your tail between your legs, Keithy?”

Keith turned back to him and glared. “Figured we should stop before you break.”

Lance felt his nostrils flare as anger rose up at the words. “I don't break easy - lets go again.”

“Why would I do that?”

“We could make it interesting…”

He saw Keith’s interest pique, how he paused and regarded Lance with steady eyes. “How so?”

Lance considers a moment, “How about…loser has to help Coran clean the cryo-pods for a week.”

It’s in the subtle curl of Keith’s lip that Lance knows that he’s hooked him. “You’re on.”

Lance blinks, preparing another witty retort, and suddenly Keith is up in his face. His wrist is grabbed as he steps back in surprise, eyes widening in shock. Keith twists his wrist viciously, turning Lance and pushing him to his knees, keeping a tight grip and pulling his arm against his back. Keith presses his weight against a squirming Lance, incapable of moving unless he wants to risk a broken arm.

“No fair!” He cries, “We hadn’t started.”

“Submit,” Keith says with humour in his voice, counteracting each one of Lance’s futile struggles.

“That’s cheating-”

Submit,” Keith presses with a cruel twist of Lance’s wrist.

The blue paladin breathes out a deep breath of defeat. “Fine, fine – you win.”

Keith if off him in a moment, stepping back with a smirk. “Enjoy cleaning the cryo-pods. Maybe you’ll get me next time.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Lance grumbles, too butt-hurt to retort. He heads back to the bench, feeling the look of dejection weighing down his face. Goddamn it, he really thought he was getting better.

Keith sees the expression and feels a coil of guilt at the look. Without words, he claps a hand to Lance’s shoulder as some kind of silent encouragement.

Lance’s body moves before his brain does.

As Keith’s hand makes contact with his skin, Lance is turning, already preparing his signature wink. His hand flies and claps across Keith’s ass cheeks, the sound echoing in the vacated training room.

Lance’s brain short circuits: did he seriously just do that?!

“Kei-” He stops as he takes the red paladin’s expression.

Keith looks outraged: his cheeks flaming redder than his lion. His eyes are wide with shock and he’s standing stock still. There’s a strange scent in the air, something familiar that Lance can’t put his finger on. “Sorry, I-”

“Forget about it,” Keith snaps and turns, hurrying out of the training room before Lance can try and get another word out.  

Lance stands stunned for a moment, unsure what to do. Should he follow Keith to actually get an apology out? What was that all about – he didn’t mean to, it was just a knee jerk reaction…

Trying to shrug it off Lance grabs his stuff and leaves, stopping by his room to grab his shower caddy. All this sweating had left him sticky and irritable: he was in desperate need of a wash.

What strikes him first as he enters the changing area is the heat: the coils of steam curling in from the showers, the rush of water on tile. Damn, he really wanted a quiet shower by himself – he wasn’t in the mood to talk to anyone.

What strikes him next is the sound…

He can hear…moaning?

He freezes: no, no way that’s what that is. But the more he listens to the ragged noises, the more he’s sure that’s what he’s hearing. Someone – a male someone – is moaning very loudly in the showers. He tries to swallow around the lump in his throat, uncertain if he should slink out without anyone knowing any better.

Finally, he’s struck by the smell.

Holy crap, the whole place smells of omega.

Not just omega: horny, wet omega.

His mouth grows dry as he feels his cock springing to attention in his leggings. Where had this come from – who was it?

The moans are being punctuated by little pants of breath, almost discernible amongst the spray of the showers but Lance catches it. He looks down to see a pile of clothes hastily left on the changing room benches.


He catches more of that scent and his vision whites out, his body making decisions of its own as he surges towards the pile of clothes, searching through the fabrics for whatever the source of that smell is.

He throws a pair of leggings to the side and the scent increases tenfold as he spies a pair of black boxers. He should be absolutely mortified with himself as he snatches the underwear and brings them to his nose to take a deep inhale.

God – that is heaven.

The underwear is still wet, the slick gracing them shiny and fresh. His cock is straining at this point, and Lance’s hand goes into his leggings to relieve some of the pressure, humping into his hand as he still breathes in that heady scent. He’s practically drooling at this point, rubbing his nose into the fabric as far as it can go, gulping air down to savour the scent he had missed to much since Earth.

The moans are starting to rise in volume now, echoing off of the tiled walls. Lance growls low in his throat, head whipping towards the noise. Boxers still gripped in his hand he steps closer to the shower room, peeking a head around the entrance.

He almost collapses, then and there.

If he went blind right now, he wouldn’t care as long as this was the last thing he saw.

Keith, crouched on his knees under the stream of hot water. One hand braced out against the wall, the other fingering himself as far as he can reach, moaning becoming unrestrained. His hips are grinding down on his fingers, trying to move faster, searching for something bigger.

Lance has to grip the door frame to keep from surging forwards and taking what he has been dreaming of for months.

After all this time craving the soft flesh of an omega – there’s been one right here all this time? He should feel like an idiot for his stupidity, but right now he can’t think beyond the heat in his gut and the pulse of his cock.

Keith looks good enough to eat…

Lance’s hand returns to his cock, moving in rhythm to the speed Keith has set. Those boxers are still held close to his nose, breathing Keith’s scent with every ragged breath. He bites a lip to keep from being noticed: he knows that if Keith’s dark eyes fall on him now, he’ll lose control of himself.

Keith’s hand is beginning to move faster, that other hand coming down from the wall to grasp at his cock and relish the double stimulation. Little does Lance know that Keith can smell the waves of testosterone coming off of the horny Alpha masturbating to the sight of him. Keith can’t think, can only react to the scent as it arouses him further and brings him closer to his brink. He’s gasping breaths now, hips stuttering desperately for release.

Little noises are starting to drop from his lips. Oh, those lips. Lance can just imagine them stretched tight and pink around his cock as he fucks Keith’s face.

Keith would look so pretty servicing him…

The noises are growing louder, and Lance wishes he could step forwards and be the one to have Keith mewling. He would make sure the red paladin ended up screaming by the time he was through.

“Ah- ah, yes, yes…” Keith is muttering, not caring who could be listening.

Which suited Lance very well.

His hand grips tighter on his cock, feels the twitching length between his fingers. Goddamn, he’s close. Closer than he’s managed to get in a long time.

“Yes!” Keith’s voice cries. “Right there – oh, more!”

Lance wishes, oh how he wishes he could give Keith what he was asking for…

Keith is clearly almost at the end of his rope, his hips beginning to stutter erratically. With a great cry Keith’s entire body locks up, slick pouring from his hole and painting the tile in a splatter of white from his cock. It takes Lance a moment to realise what Keith shouted, but as soon as he does Lance is tipping over the edge too, spilling in his leggings as he cums and cums, biting into those boxers to keep from crying out.

Because Keith shouted his name. Lance. While Keith had climaxed in the showers, he had shouted Lance’s name like Lance was the one making him feel so good.

Once he comes down from his high, he panics. His eyes dart back to Keith only to find the red paladin is still recovering from his orgasm. Without a second thought Lance turns and leaves, grabbing his shower caddy and racing through the castle back to his room before he gets noticed.

He closes the door after him, leaning back against it will a relieved sigh. He might have gotten away with it…

That scent of omega still swirls around him, and with horror he looks down to look at his fisted hand, black boxers still gripped tightly between his fingers. Before he can stop himself he brings them back to his nose for another deep breath, cock twitching in his damp leggings.


What was he supposed to do now?


Keith caught his breath and stood, making sure to rinse the shower walls down before hastily washing his hair and covering his body in soapy suds, still surprised that he touched himself in such a public place.

He hadn’t felt such a strong primal need to do that in a while: his cheeks flamed in embarrassment as he fought to think about Lance slapping his ass.

One little smack, and he was reduced to this state.


But he couldn’t help it: especially when he swore he could smell the aroused scent of an alpha. He shook his head, trying to discard the stupid thought: there was only one alpha aboard the castle and he was arrogant and annoying. Not to mention, not interested in Keith.

He was certain he had imagined the scent.

Keith rinsed off quickly and turned off the shower. He returned to the changing room with a towel around his waist, hair dripping water onto his shoulders as he grabbed the fresh clothes he had brought along. Feeling more refreshed than he had in a while, he picked up his training clothes to fold and put away in his bag.

He froze for a moment.



Where were his boxers?

Confused he looked through the pile of dirty clothes and his bag, wondering where he could have put them. He looked around the changing room and the damp showers to see if he had recklessly discarded them somewhere on his desperate rampage to touch himself.

He stared down at his belongings, dumbfounded as to where they could have gone.

For a moment, he entertained the idea that maybe he hadn’t imagined the alpha’s scent.