My Klance Bible💜

Touch me the way I want you to(Smut)

Keith knows he's walking too slowly for this to be construed as innocent. Knows that, if anyone else saw the way he was swaying his hips, they'd know exactly what he was after. To be fair, Keith knows by the way he can feel Lance's gaze trained on his ass that Lance isn't doing a very good job being subtle, either.

They've been at it for weeks, now, this... little game. Lance will wait till everyone's backs are turned - or not, actually - and cop a feel. Keith will lead Lance off to secluded parts of the castle, let him touch and play as much as he likes, but refuse to let him go any further. It's exhilarating, it's humiliating... It's exactly what he needs after day after day alternating between white metal monotony and fighting for his life.

If he's being honest, he actually needs more than this. Letting Lance play with him, teasing him in return, it's fucking amazing, but he's getting close to his breaking point. He wants to let Lance fuck him, wants to make him cum, to let Lance make him cum. The only thing holding him back is that he knows Lance wants it, too. And he's found that the one thing he enjoys more than his own pleasure is Lance's suffering.

Lance has been trailing him for nearly five minutes now. Keith supposes they could have all the privacy they wanted in one of their rooms, but that might make it seem like he's ready to go all the way. Also, he doesn't really want privacy. He likes feeling exposed, even if he hopes to Voltron that no one actually does walk in.

Finally, they end up in the room Keith is looking for. It's one of the many small lounges scattered around the castle, but no one ever uses it. Keith has only ever known Coran to come by this wing of the castle on his spicolian movement-ly maintenance runs, so it's unlikely anyone will come in... but not impossible. Lance knows the drill by now, and the fact that he taps the panel to keep the door from closing sends a flare of heat up through Keith's body.

Within seconds, Lance has Keith pinned on his front, bent over the island that's meant to function as a bar. It would take Keith even less time to get away than it took to get him there in the first place, but what would be the fun in that?

Lance bends Keith's arms behind his back and hold them there, brushes the black hair out of Keith's face where he has his head turned to the side. Keith can feel Lance's semi against his ass through the various layers of clothing they're both wearing.

Lance begins to stroke over the seat of Keith's pants, familiarizing himself with Keith's body once more. Keith knows from experience that Lance likes to start slow, to tease. He hopes he'll hurry up this time.

Lance seems to be in a pretty eager mood as well, because he's already pulling down Keith's pants after just a few moments. He pulls the waistband of his leggings to sit just under Keith's cheeks, then snaps it for good measure. Keith's breath hitches at the pain, and he feels the way the force of it sends ripples through his ass. Lance gives a low whistle.

"Looking as good as ever, baby. It's obviously been too long since we did this last, though. All those pretty marks I left have faded."

Well, it had been a couple days since Lance had gotten his pants down, but... "Healing pod," Keith mumbles.

"Right," Lance sighs. Now's not the time to talk about their day job.

Keith tries to bring back the mood by wiggling his ass a little, which proves to be effective. Lance takes a big handful of his hip and cheek, presses him down into the table to still him. Once Keith has been subdued, Lance starts kneading and squeezing in earnest. Keith makes a tiny hum, and he can sense the way Lance smirks behind him, even if he can't see him.

Suddenly, his ass feels cold. Lance has taken his hand off, and from the sound of it, he's undoing his fly. Keith gasps a bit. He's never done that before.