I've seen seasons come and go
From winter sun to summer snow
This ain't my first time at the rodeo
The thing is that Lance is pretty used to pissing Keith off- sometimes it’s what he’s actually aiming for.
So when he spots Keith turning around the corner with all the air of someone about to commit first degree murder of course he steps into his path.
“Hey mullet,” Lance begins, hands tucked into his pockets as he stepped closer to block Keith’s path, “what’s up? Where’s the fire-”
“Not now Lance. I’m not in the mood.” Keith immediately cuts him off, not giving him the opportunity to finish his sentence. He tries to brush past Lance, hands waving him away with a sort of indifference in Lance’s direction.
Alright, there's a lot of things Lance can tolerate.
But getting brushed aside? Oh no, oh that’s a no-go for him.
Had Keith just stuck with his ‘i’m not in the mood’ gig Lance would’ve turned tail and gone on his merry way.
Because Lance McClain is rude and a jerk but he’s not an asshole. He’s got sympathy. Even for people like Keith who barely qualify to deserve it.
And Keith, currently, does not deserve it.
“Aww c’mon!” Lance continues, jogging alongside Keith to keep pace, his smile just the littlest bit strained because fuck Keith, fuck Keith, fuckKeith.
Keith marches with his shoulders hunched over slightly, fists clenched at his side, and teeth bared and grinding down like he had a personal vendetta against his dentist.
“I just said I’m not in the moo-”
“I heard you!” Lance happily confirms, sidling up beside him and watching as his shoulders did a bit of a jump when Lance’s shoulder brushed his. “I just don’t care, you’re being a bigger dick than usual ya know. You almost hurt my feelings-”
“-Okay fine, you really did hurt my feelings and if you don’t want me to tell on you then all you have to do-”
“-Is say ‘sorry’.”
Keith suddenly stops his speedwalk, planting his feet flat in the middle of the highway, forcing Lance, who was slowly struggling to catch his breath, to crash into him. Normally, Lance thinks, anyone would’ve been sent stumbling or at least crashing down. But not Keith- no, Keith stays still, standing in the middle of the hallway with a trembling fist like he was holding back from-
Oh. Okay so maybe Lance might’ve made the tiniest little mistake.
“You know what, it’s not even that big of a deal.” He tries backtracking. “Let’s just forget it, nevermin-”
Keith’s hands whips out faster than Lance can avoid, digging his fingers into the collar of Lance’s shirt and pulling him to his side, feet marching the few inches between them and a hallway closet nearby. Lance doesn’t even get a chance to protest, too busy getting swept off his feet and into one of the Castle’s storage spaces for spare bedding.
Lance hopes that Keith has enough respect for him to not make this his final resting place. Mostly because the linen closets always smell like dust and rotten pineapple.
But given the look of absolute murder on Keith’s face when the door slides closed behind them- Lance’s hopes aren’t too high.
“God, can you ever just listen to me for once!” Keith spits out, mouth barely moving because he’s somehow stuck between snarling in Lance’s face and hissing at him. “The training deck keeps breaking down and Coran says they can’t fix it because we don’t have any of the parts-”
That was what it was all about? Keith was all pissy and spitting in Lance’s face just because he couldn’t train?
“-I have nothing to work out all my-my stuff,” Keith continues, “and you just make it worse by prodding and- and needling because you’re such a-”
“Oh, because I'm such a what?” Lance fires back, trying to slap away the hand Keith has latched onto his shirt. Keith doesn’t let go. “What’d I even do? All I did was ask-”
“You know what you did!” Keith cuts him off, getting in his face and pushing his nose tightly against Lance’s. “You do it all the time! Then you run away to Shiro or to Hunk when there are actual consequences-”
“Yeah,” Lace snorts. “Consequences as in you trying to beat me up.”
“You start it!” Keith insists, pushing his face closer and pulling Lance’s closer with his grip on his shirt. “You always start it! And one day someone’s going to punish you for it!”
Lance knows he shouldn’t keep pushing, shouldn’t keep needling like Keith says he does. Because Keith’s face is really close and Lance is hands are planted on the other’s chest in an attempt to try and get some space between them. But his mouth babbles, before his brain even gets a chance to stop it.
“Oho? What, someone like you?”
It sounds like a challenge. It sounds like a challenge even to Lance’s own ears, so he can just imagine what it sounds like to Keith.
Keith’s eyes darken with, with something. His gaze narrows on Lance and the hand fisted on his shirt suddenly feels so much more threatening.
Like lightning, Keith has Lance’s front pressed to the wall, in a flash. His teeth knock against the hard metal, hands scrambling in front fast enough to prevent the rest of his face from suffering the same fate.
“Wai- Keith!” Lance bursts out, panic ringing in his chest. “Buddy, I’m sorr-!”
Lance freezes. His whole body clenching and going still when a shot of red pain flashes on his ass.
Keith also goes silent.
A beat of stillness pulses between them, Lance only hears the sound of blood rushing in his ears. Suddenly his tongue is frozen, any words he may have been able to get out turning to sand in his mouth.
Keith hasn’t taken his hand off.
Lance can feel it resting on his right buttcheek, the pressure against it pushing it up slightly. Either Lance is imagining it or Keith’s fingers curl slightly, cupping the cheek for a second before pulling his hand away.
Lance lets out a shaky breath but sucks it right back in when another slap comes down again, just as hard- this time on his left cheek. Lance lets out a choked out sound, pressing his cheek against the wall as his mouth fell open at the action.
He’s wearing jeans, they’re thick and provide a nice layer of protection between Lance’s supple skin and Keith’s hard, unforgiving hand.
“You are so infuriating.” Keith grinds out, pressing his mouth next to Lance’s ear, his voice sounds hoarse. This time Lance can clearly feel Keith’s hand palm his cheek, squeezing and pressing enough to make the sting of the slap last. “Why can’t you ever just listen to me, just once?”
Lance lets out a shaky breath, a strangled sound escaping him when Keith’s hand comes down again. This time it lands high, right near the base of Lance’s tailbone and just barely skimming past his asshole. But still close enough for Lance to let out a gasp, high and breathless and almost without thinking, he bends forward slightly.
As Keith’s hand pulls away Lance’s ass tries to follow him, like a stray puppy choosing it’s new owner.
Lance immediately flushes red at the action, pressing his flushed cheeks harder against the cool metal of the closet wall.
Keith sucks in a breath at the action, his hands not coming down in a slap, instead his fingers hook into the belt loops of Lance’s jeans. Lance swallows heavily, cheeks hotter than the surface of the sun when Keith tugs on them, inching them down his hips along with his boxers.
“Y-You need to learn a lesson.” Keith shakily says, using his fingers to push Lance’s pants down, enough to expose his ass to the cool, ventilated air of the closet. “No one ever punishes you.”
Lance’s face is pressed to the wall, his eyes are half-lidded and he’s pretty sure the wetness he feels gathering in the corner of his mouth is his drool. Still, he manages to collect himself enough to say something back. Maybe tell Keith off, or make a dig at him for getting flustered- but none of that comes out.
“Are you going to?” He croaks.
Lance hears Keith swallow, the other boy is almost pressed to Lance’s back, the only thing separating them being their clothes. Keith’s shaky puffs of breath tickle at Lance’s cheek, blowing at the loose strands that curl by his ears.
Lance hears him take a steadying breath, one hand comes up to pin Lance’s shoulders to the wall, making it so he can’t pull away or move.
Lance feels his eyes slip closed, suddenly becoming hyper aware of the tightness in his pants. Keith hasn’t pulled it down enough to let his dick spring free. The only pressure he has is the stiffness of the wall in front of him to rut against.
“Yes.” Keith murmurs, moving his face to press his mouth to the shell of Lance’s ear. A shiver travels through him when he feels the wash of warm breath over sensitive skin.
“I’m going to teach you a lesson.” Keith continues. “And I hope it sticks.”
‘I don’t’ Lance can’t help but think, biting down on his lower lip to stop the utterly humiliating sound that was building in his chest from coming out.
Keith pulls away, his chest peeling away from Lance’s back and Lance is just about to turn around, to ask what Keith thinks he’s doing- when he gets cut off.
A hard spank crashes on Lance’s cheeks, he feels them jiggle from the force. Keith’s fingers briefly dig into Lance’s pliable tush before swiftly pulling back along with his hand.
The hot, pulsing heat of the stroke is more invasive in Lance’s mind, harder to ignore with the layer of his jeans to protect the vulnerable skin.
Another stroke quickly follows that last one and Lance can’t help the little yelp of pain that escapes him. Either on accident or on purpose, Keith manages to hit him in the exact same place as before and the burning flares up again, the pain a spreading sort of sting that coats much of Lance’s backside.
Lance’s dick is definitely hard, trapped between the front of his jeans and the cold, hard wall. Still, Lance thrusts his hips forward, finding no relief in upping the strain against his dick.
“Are you learning?” Keith asks, voice shaky as another stroke hits Lance, this time from above.
Lance whimpers at the feeling, thighs trembling as he grinds closer to the wall.
“N-no.” He manages to croak out. “No, I ha-haven’t.”
Keith makes a sound against Lance’s neck, it’s too deep to be a whine but it’s the closest Lance could come to a guess.
“What. About. Now.”
Each word is punctuated by a spank, hard and unforgivable and just as intense as the first one. Keith is clearly starting to struggle, his body leaning more and more on Lance each time, his breathing coming out harsh and uneven by Lance’s neck.
Just when Lance thinks he’s about to keep going, Keith presses in close, burying his face in the junction between Lance’s neck and shoulder. His hand comes down from where it was pinning Lance’s shoulder and joins his ‘spanking hand’ in groping and tugging at Lance’s burning cheeks.
Lance feels nails being dug into the tender skin and hisses, lowly and through his teeth as Keith pushes and thrusts against him, letting out guttural sounds of ‘ughn, ughn, ughn’ into his ear.
Finally, Keith freezes, pushing harder against Lance’s body and nearly forcing him to protest at being squished when all the hard lines of his body suddenly go loose. Keith lets out a choked noise right into Lance’s neck before he goes slack, like a puppet whose strings have been cut.
Lance is confused for all of a second before it hits him.
Keith is taking slow breaths, deep and languid like he’s finally breathing properly for the first time. Lance almost feels bad for interrupting but he’s still hard and his ass is burning without Keith gripping onto it like it’s a lifeline.
But Keith seems a little distracted so Lance doesn’t think he’ll notice if he just quickly snakes his hands down his pants and rubs one off. Keith got off on his ass so Lance is pretty sure it’s only fair that he does too.
Whether he notices or not, Keith still tenses when Lance shifts slightly, pushing against his hands when he unbuttons his jeans and palms his neglected cock.
Lance nearly weeps at the friction, not even caring when Keith goes as still as a statue behind him, his chest at Lance’s back tensing as Lance began stroking himself.
Using his thumb, Lance pressed against the weeping slit, muffling his shaky moans against the wall, stroking his heated flesh.
Keith’s hands slide to Lance’s hips, gripping them tightly as Lance pumped at his dick, pressing spit slicked lips against the wall to muffle whines.
Keith tucks his head back into Lance’s shoulder, massaging Lance’s hips and pressing his lips to Lance’s neck.
The feeling of Keith’s tongue, licking at the mist of sweat gathered at Lance’s neck is what gets to him. Lance chokes, letting out a garbled sound as hot cum spills out over his hands, dripping onto his pants as he arches his hips in little thrusts. Keith’s hands grip him, never easing off as Lance rode through his orgasm.
When Lance finally manages to lift his head up and away from the wall it’s to the sound of Keith stepping back and away. Lance tilts his head back and manages to catch sight of Keith’s face, his cheeks flushed red with either arousal or embarrassment.
Either way, Lance blinks and he’s gone- the only thing to signal at his presence being the sound of the closet door sliding open and filling the room with the glow of the hallway lights.
Lance is alone and sliding down the wall. He hisses slightly when his tender ass touches the cold metal of the floor and has to shift uncomfortably a few times to get into a semi-acceptable position. His jeans are dirty and pushed down to his thighs with cum that’s slowly drying on the crotch.
Lance knows he should get up, put himself back together or even go get an ice pack or cooling gel from the med bay.
But he doesn’t.
He stays right where he is and plays back the memory of Keith flushing and looking like a cooked lobster. He plays back the memory of Keith humping and getting off on him while holding onto his ass.
Lance sits back on the floor, covered in his own jizz, and a sore ass because he hasn’t learned a goddamn thing.