My Klance Bible💜

Like honey(Smut)

Keith approaches Lance after a mission. They're both covered in sweat from head to toe, reeking of an odour that would make even the most steadfast of their closest friends inch away. Keith's hair is wild and messy from being pressed underneath his helmet.

When he talks, he refuses to meet Lance's eyes. He tugs on his hair and drums his fingers against his hip, voice switching from practically yelling to a soft whisper.

It's classic Keith, not knowing how to control his emotions; allowing them to flow out all at once, spitting in Lance's face and then apologizing a moment later, because really, they're past the point of simply screaming and leaving.

"Why don't you ask Shiro?" Lance asks, dumbfounded. More sweat slides down the nape of his neck.

Keith laughs like Lance made a joke. Lance has no idea what's going on half the time between Keith and Shiro, other than that they can talk without words. Something must have happened else Keith wouldn't be standing in front of him right now, propositioning him.

"I don't want Shiro," Keith says, and finally locks gazes with Lance. "You can think about it. Let me know some other time."

Lance has to take a long, cold shower that evening.

---

He says yes.

It's as casual as possible. He looks over at Keith while they're at a market on a friendly planet, picking out strange-looking fruits and vegetables, practically burning in their armor underneath the hot sun that they circle around. There's a dozen aliens elbowing them all at once, trying to get at the stand. Keith doesn't seem to care.

"Yeah," Lance says out of nowhere. Keith looks up and quirks an eyebrow, as if to say go on. As nonchalantly as he can, he rubs the back of his neck and clears his throat. "I'll do it."

"Oh," Keith makes a noise that Lance isn't sure he's supposed to hear. He goes back to inspecting the fruit. "Alright."

Lance nods to the back of Keith's head. There's a nick in his helmet, a small dent that betrays his perfection. He bites his lip and focuses on Keith's hands running over the ridges of the fruit instead.

"Have you ever, uh-" Lance doesn't know what he's trying to say, exactly. Have you ever done this before?maybe, or Do you regularly proposition your friends?

"No," Keith cuts him off. "But I know what to do. It's okay."

Lance doesn't doubt that.

---

Keith is splayed over Lance's couch, looking like a painting, ethereal and untouchable. His hair is fanned onto the cushion, fringe covering his eyes. They're shut tightly, and Lance wishes he knew if it was because he doesn't want to look at him or if it's because it's too much already.

He knows Keith has a high pain tolerance, so it can't be the latter. He doesn't know what to make of the former.

His hands and legs are tied with rope Lance had stolen from their supplies depot. He prays that no one will notice they're missing; he doubts any of the other paladins will want to touch them after they're done. Keith's legs fold underneath him and his hands twitch behind his back. Other than that, he stays still, waiting, just like Lance told him to.

There's a few other objects set aside on the table. Keith had supplied essentially everything aside from the rope. It'd taken a tremendous amount of effort for Lance not to fall over at the sight of it all, especially once it was set onto his table, becoming a part of the decor. The gag sits still, unused.

Lance wants to hear Keith cry.

He runs his hands over Keith's hair, smooths down the matted tufts and runs his fingers through it, as if brushing it. Keith's eyes open, slightly unfocused, and he glares.