He huffs an irritated breath through his nose. Gods damn it. He really thought he had you in the bag. There’s a shard of something sharp lodged beneath his rib. Annoyance, probably. Disappointment that he’s back to square one. Bitterness that he lost another competition, even when he’s doing what he does best.

Astarion turns to walk away. Takes three steps. Stops. Turns his head back toward the sound.

Who is it?

Who are you with?

He has his suspicions, but might as well take a quick peek to verify. His steps as he approaches are catlike. Not that you’d notice anyway, preoccupied as you are. He won’t look much. Only enough to see who stole his prize.

His mark. Who stole his mark.

Astarion pauses at the far side of your closed tent flap and finds a gap in the cloth. He leans in, eyes keen in the dark, and his mouth goes dry when he sees your hips grinding against someone, the length of your body pressed tight to theirs while you move over them. A blanket covers you both, but it doesn’t hide the passion of your movement.

He jerks his head away, a ball of tension aching in his gut. Ridiculous. He should go kill something. He walks toward the woods.

And stops with a sigh.

Astarion hates himself for it, this burning curiosity to know exactly who you’re riding so enthusiastically. Steeling himself, he creeps back and peeks once more through the split in the fabric.

You’re sitting up, now, showing him the long line of your spine in the center of your bare back as your hips continue to work. Every puff of breath through your lips is desperate, occasionally lilting up in a breathless moan.

Astarion worries his lip between his teeth. The muscles beneath your skin ripple, your blood thrumming so close and smelling so much of you, sweetened with the scent of arousal. If you’d just lean a little one way or the other, he could see who’s working you so… so…

There’s a flash of heat in his core followed by a sparking current of electricity, setting everything alight. He’d been doing his best to ignore the steady swell of his cock, but ignoring it is no longer an option as he goes hard as stone, the length of him straining toward his hip bone. Subconsciously, he cants his hips into the empty air and finds absolutely no relief. He has to swallow back a soft moan of his own.

The rolling globes of your arse are shaped perfectly beneath your thin wool blanket. Sharp, rocking thrusts against your playmate, against whichever lucky wretch currently feels the sticky heat of you while he watches.

Astarion lets his hand drift to the front of his breeches and sucks his breath in through his teeth when his palm grazes firmly over the covered head of his cock.

 You run a hand up your side and feel your own chest, maintaining your rhythm as you whimper.

Astarion’s fingers move to loosen his laces, lips parted as he begins to softly pant.

Your hand moves back down and you’re… yes, you’re putting your fingers between your legs, and you throw your head back with a gasp.

His fingers dip below his waistband and he curls in on himself with a huff as he takes himself in hand and begins to pump. Once, twice… ah, gods, that’s nice.

Though being under you would be even nicer.

Lucky sod. Who is it?

The blanket slips down over the curve of your arse, falling to one side and his breath catches as he realizes he’s about to get his answer.

Fabric falls aside and your incredible arse is grinding back and forth. You’re riding yourself to absolute delirium with…

A spare bedroll.

Astarion’s hand stutters to a stop and he doesn’t even breathe as realization hits him. You weren’t with someone else at all. The whole time, you’ve been furiously fucking yourself, grinding needily against your bedding for relief.

And somehow, some way, that makes him even harder. He mouths “oh, fuck” and goes back to stroking himself with renewed vigor. 

You’re desperately aroused, no longer trying to quiet your whimpers as you work your hips in circles against the bedroll while you rub yourself at the same time, your shoulders flushed with need. Your body undulates in wave after wave and Astarion feels quite certain that if he were inside you right now, he’d have come already. He puts his free hand over his mouth, pressing his palm to his lips to keep quiet.

You make a frustrated noise and swing your leg off the bedroll, and for a brief alarming moment, Astarion thinks you’re about to give up, and there’s no way he could let that stand. For either of you.

But then you shove the bedroll away with a huff and flop onto your back without opening your eyes, which is good news for Astarion, since you’d almost certainly see the silhouette of him outside your tent if you were paying attention. Instead, you spread your legs wide and give him a glorious view as one hand returns to its place between your legs and is quickly joined by the other.

Astarion shudders out a breath, the sound thankfully masked by your own rapid pants as you stroke yourself with one hand and trace around your entrance with the other. When you push two fingers inside and begin to pump in and out, Astarion’s knees threaten to give out as he picks up his pace. The tide of pleasure in his core rises and threatens to crest.

Gods, gods, he isn’t even fucking you and you’re still going to make him come before you do.

Your pretty little moans are too much. Your furrowed brow, your flushed cheeks, the way your thighs twitch and your belly shivers with the pleasure you’re lavishing on yourself. What a beauty you are, what a treat, what a-

“-arion,” you whisper, so quietly that he nearly misses it.

“Hah,” he breathes, his pleasure shuddering right on the edge of its peak. His mind must’ve filled that in. There’s no way you said what he thought you said.

He presses his face to the split in the fabric and leans against the tentpole, jerking himself firmly as he watches you arch your back up off the ground, lifting your hips into the air again, again, again, until your hands slow.

“Oh, Astarion,” you whisper just before you slam back down to earth and groan out your release, your slick making your skin shine in the low light.

“Sh-”

Astarion slams his hand over his mouth and ducks to the side, sinking silently to the ground around the corner of your tent just before he creams himself, a pulse of spend striping the ground beneath him, followed by another, and another. His head hangs heavily before him as he catches his breath and dazedly tries to piece together what the fuck just happened.

He sits back, chest heaving and ears ringing.

Then whips his head to the side when he hears you stir inside the tent and tentatively say, “... Hello? Is someone there?”

Astarion holds his breath, which does not help with his current state of floaty lightheadedness.

Then you say, “... Astarion?”

And the sound of his name on your lips sends another ripple of pleasure through him as his cock pulses and drips one last time for good measure.

It takes a minute, but you eventually convince yourself you were hearing things and settle down to sleep, presumably in a more relaxed state than when you first retired. Astarion waits until your breathing slows before he sneaks away, silently tucking himself back into his clothes.

He holds his breath the entire time.

On the other side of camp inside the safety of his own tent, he releases it in a rush, running his unused hand through his curls as realization finally catches up to him.

Gin strolled casually through the main palace of Las Noches, his snake-like smile stretching his face as he took a break from his usual duties. He walked in the corridors near the inner wall to take in the artificial sunlight coming in through the windows, a stark contrast to the dark control room and its harsh blue light. Such a quiet day… he mused.

Since coming to Hueco Mundo after the Ryoka incident, most days had been quiet. The air in the Soul Society had hummed with activity from the packed Rukon district, all the way to the Seireitei. Be it messengers traveling between divisions to deliver reports, children playing, adults meeting for gambling and drinks, or running for their lives from fellow citizen and monster alike, there was always something happening. Conversely, Hueco Mundo seemed almost still by comparison. The desert’s soundtrack made from the wind whipping through the dunes, the scratch of a small Hollow’s feet as they buried themselves in the sand, the occasional shout as a large one was defeated. In Las Noches, the Arrancars didn’t seem to interact unless they had to—excluding Espadas and fracciones, of course—which usually left the place quiet as a tomb. Every now and again, though, something would break the silence. The anguished cries from Szayel Aporro’s experiments. Yammy’s too loud laughter as he boasted about a hunt. Gin found himself almost begging for something to break the silence today.

His wish was granted when he heard overlapping shouts echoing from outside. He turned his head to look out a nearby window and saw an explosion suddenly take out part of a wall of one of the other nearby palaces. Moving closer to the window to get a better look, he ended up hearing the shouts more clearly, echoing through the smoke.

“I am going to kill you!”

“Ha! I’d love to see you try, you scrawny little—GUH!”

“Just who are you calling scrawny, sand for brains?!”

The silver-haired ex-Shinigami’s lifted a hand to his mouth as he chuckled. “Oh, dear,” he drawled, stepping away from the window and continuing his stroll. “Looks like they’re at it again.”

Over in that same tower that Gin had just been looking at, a certain Unaffiliated Fracción had her hands closed around the wide-eyed Sexta Espada’s throat, her eyes set in a glare that was normally reserved for the battlefield. After his head hit the wall behind him once, then twice, Grimmjow’s expression mimicked hers, albeit more feral. If there was one thing he hated, it was being caught off-guard and he certainly hadn’t expected her to choke him. He raised his foot and drove it into her sternum in one swift motion, sending her careening into the opposite wall. “I’m calling you scrawny!” He growled out and rubbed his neck, feeling the shallow cuts her nails left behind closing now that she had released him. “And I’m going to break those damn talons of yours, Tarumi!”

Katalina coughed a couple of times as the impact knocked the wind out of her. Her eyes opened, typically emotionless eyes burning bright with unrestrained fury. Her fists clenched and she shifted slightly before jumping out of the deep indent her body had left in the wall. She looked at her nails, noticing the blood on them and let out an aggravated sigh as she flicked the red droplets from them. “Aw, did you get a booboo?” Her lips curled into a little smile—the smile that unnerved other Arrancars and sent Grimmjow from zero to pissed in two seconds flat. “If you can’t take that little scratch, you’re an even bigger baby than I thought, pussycat!”

Grimmjow’s eyebrow ticked at the name and his teeth clenched so hard he swore they were going to break. “You…”

The predatory tendencies of his old form bled into his every action. The toothy snarl and low, rumbling growl. The curling of his hands, mimicking that of his old claws. The fierce, even stare as he languidly stalked towards her, not once breaking eye contact. Then, he vanished. When he reappeared, he was right behind her, zanpakuto raised to strike. “You are so fucking annoying!”

Katalina quickly ducked out of the way, only losing a few strands of hair as his sword swung above her head. As she came out of her dodge, she drew her sword and immediately charged at him, ready to make him regret messing with her today.

The empty space echoed with the low hum of sonido, the ring of steel clashing against steel, and the crumble of rubble as attacks broke the decorative pillars that lined the hallway. The insults flying back and forth between them added to the chaos, neither one of them caring about the destruction they were causing. Grimmjow would just order his fracciones to clean it up later, anyway.

This had become a regular occurrence whenever these two Arrancars crossed paths. They were barely amiable with an audience, but whenever they were alone the true animosity between them would come forth in all its violent glory. It would usually start when one of them would antagonize the other and then, the banter began; however, one of them would inevitably take it too far and the conversation would come to blows. Today, the catalyst had been Grimmjow comparing Katalina to Harribel’s fracción, Apacci, only less feminine. Which led to the wavy haired Arrancar to tell him to go lick himself. Which led to him calling her a worm eater. Which led to many more insults, each one worse—or more ridiculous—than the last. It was only after the Espada had said something about how the only blade she should be allowed to touch was in the kitchen that a physical reaction came in the form of a bala from Katalina. Grimmjow dodged it and it hit the wall instead, which is what caused the explosion Gin heard.

The two Arrancars were fighting so fiercely down the hallway that their movements hardly visible to the naked eye. Katalina quickly deflected a slash from Grimmjow only to have his foot slam into her face. Before she could recover, he was in front of her, grabbing her by the neck and pinning her against a pillar with his free hand, the bloodthirsty grin on his face telling her that he was clearly enjoying himself. “Whatcha got to say now, woman?” he taunted her as he pressed into her neck harder.

She growled and, as best she could given her current position, rasped out her snarky reply. “Bite me, Pantera!”

She gathered some saliva in her mouth and spit at him, the blue-haired male dodging it in disgust and loosening his grip on her neck. With this distraction, she wedged one foot into his Hollow hole and used it as leverage for a flip kick, the force behind it sending Grimmjow reeling. Driving her nails through the wall to anchor herself, she got herself to get in a crouch and then sprang forward, her zanpakuto raised to knock his head off. He was ready for the strike and simply stepped out of the way to kick her in the back. She caught herself and turned around to retaliate again, when his sword abruptly flew through her Hollow hole and into the wall behind her. “Stand down, Tarumi.” Looking from the hand gripping the hilt of the sword in her shoulder to his face, she saw that the insane grin was gone and that cocky smirk of his had replaced it. “You know you can’t beat the king.”

Even in her current position, she could not help but scoff, the sound almost mixing itself with a laugh. “You’re no king of mine, that’s for damn certain.” She pointed her sword at him defiantly. “Asshole, sure. Ego-maniac, always, but you are no king.”

The smirk dropped and a tense silence filled the air as they stared each other down, heat crackling the air around them. Katalina was the first to break the silence, tapping the edge of her blade against his cheek. “What’s wrong?” A wicked grin spread across her face. “Cat got your tongue?”

Grimmjow’s face once again contorted into a scowl and the air seemed heavier as he regarded her. He quickly withdrew his blade, putting it back into its sheath before grabbing the other Arrancar by the wrist. He slammed her hand into the wall until she dropped her sword, paying it no mind as it clattered to the floor when her hand was pinned over her head. When she scowled and tried to throw a punch with her free hand, it quickly joined its twin beneath his large palm. “Do you have any idea how much of a pain in the ass you are?”

His voice had lowered significantly, sending a jolt of heat straight through Katalina and reminding her that bloodlust was not all that had been building over the course of this battle. Still determined not to lose, she raised one leg to kick him, only to end up with it being wound around his hip. She could feel him as he pressed against her, hard as a rock. She tried to ignore how every part of her body tensed in response and rolled her eyes at him. “Helps keep things interesting.” She answered his question, her voice coming out more ragged than she had expected.

Grimmjow gave Katalina a once-over, gaze lingering on her face. There was a frown present and her brows sloped in defiance, but her eyes were alight, the red slowly disappearing as the pupils began widening in anticipation. Sucking his teeth, he released her wrists and lifted her other leg around his waist. He rocked his hips into hers as she locked her legs around him, back arching as he somehow managed to get perfect friction between two layers of clothing. She rolled her hips against his in reply, leaning down to bite at his neck. A snarl left Grimmjow and his grip on her hips tightened, the air rushing around them as he used sonido. Fortunately, their battle had gotten them closer to his chambers.

As soon as they were inside his bedroom, Katalina’s back was against the wall by the door, Grimmjow’s hips meeting hers again as his lips went to her neck, sucking and biting marks into her skin as she pushed his jacket off him and tossed it away. Her nails raked over the exposed skin, digging deeper as they went over his shoulders and drawing a growl from him. He roughly set her feet on the ground and tugged her hakama down, barely letting her kick her shoes off before a hand was between her legs. He smirked at the hitch in her breath as he cupped her bare sex. “This wet already?” He taunted her, the smirk growing wider as she glared at him. “Kat, you shouldn’t have.”

She scratched particularly hard down his back, switching to barely-there touches as her nails neared the edge of his Hollow hole. Smug satisfaction lit her face when she saw him twitch violently within the confines of his own hakama. “You’re right, I shouldn’t have.” She shot back, pressing more firmly into his flesh.

Grimmjow grabbed her wrist and dragged her to his bed, tossing her onto it as he made quick work of his pants. As she sat up, his hand went to her shoulder and turned her so that she was on her stomach. Climbing onto the bed himself, he grabbed her hips and pulled them upwards as he aligned himself with her entrance.

Katalina couldn’t help the way her back arched or the deep moan that escaped her when the Espada slid into her, swift and hard and with no resistance whatsoever. The angle of her hips and the deep arch of her back had him hitting her in just the right spot with every deliberate thrust. A flash of annoyance went through her when she thought about how she was enjoying this way more than she should be; how had she even let this happen again? After one particularly deep thrust that had her seeing stars for a moment, she decided that she couldn’t be bothered to care. Hearing him grunt in time with the wet slap of his hips meeting hers, feeling his hands roughly running over her heated skin as her nipples scraped against the sheets… it had her head swimming until all she could focus was how good she felt. Biting her lip, she snaked a hand beneath her, going to rub that spot that would kick her over the edge and make her feel even better.

Grimmjow had been watching her intently, taking note of every hitch of breath, every squeeze of her walls around him, every time her fingers tightened around the sheets beneath her. He stopped thrusting for a moment, watching as she kept the contact going, rolling her hips against his to take him inside of her silken heat over and over again. She probably didn’t even know she was doing it and the idea of having her so lost to desire gave him a sick thrill. He almost wished she could see him smirking at her, that he could see that angry flash in her eyes when she realized that she was letting him have this power over her. That she was thoroughly enjoying it.

He saw her shift as one arm disappeared beneath her, headed for her clit, no doubt. He moved quickly, grabbing her wrist and pulling her arm from beneath her, pinning it to her lower back instead. A hiss escaped between his teeth as he felt her clench around him like a vice, coaxing him to plow into her faster than before, but nowhere near as deep. “You think you can get off that easy?” he growled down at her, knowing full well that he was merely grazing the spot where she wanted him the most.

Katalina’s hips twitched as she fought to take him deeper. The head of his cock was barely grazing the place she needed him most and she could feel her pulse in her clit as it throbbed with need. She tried to slam back into him, but that single hand on her hip gripped tight enough to still her movements and keep her where he wanted her. She was going to kill him. “You are an absolute fucking asshole, you know that?” she snapped between bared teeth, an insult that would have probably carried more weight if she didn’t sound so thoroughly wrecked.

The sudden, deep thrust made her gasp with a startled cry as he filled her to the hilt. Then, the maddening and unsatisfactory pace began again, her free hand clawing at the sheets in frustration. She felt Grimmjow’s skin against hers as he leaned over her back and she could almost hear the shit-eating grin in his voice as he spoke. “Run that by me again?”

She sucked her teeth, turning her head to meet his stupid smug face with a steely glare. “I said,” she hissed, enunciating every word as she repeated herself. “You. Are. An. Asshole.”

Grimmjow’s eyes narrowed and he gave another deep thrust, staying sheathed inside of her as her walls fluttered around him eagerly. He pulled out slowly and thrust in deeply again, watching as she bit her lip so hard it split open. “Doesn’t look like you’re complaining.” He taunted her, sitting up so that he could fuck into her as fast as he could.

The Arrancar moaned loudly as she felt his nails traveling down her spine as he returned to his earlier pace, this time with depth. It was getting harder to stop herself from squeezing around him as he neared her dangerously close to the edge. She felt every part of her body winding tightly, shaking as she tried to hold back the flood, not wanting to lose herself to this. To him. She barely had time to lament this further when the dam suddenly burst within her.

Grimmjow’s hand moved from her wrist to her shoulder, pulling her so she was sitting up on her knees. His arm wound around her chest, pinning her to him as he continued to rut into her sensitive cavern. His other hand snaked down between her legs, rubbing roughly over her clit. He hissed in satisfaction when he felt her clench around him harder as she shuddered against him with a shriek. “Fuck, you’re so tight.” He growled. “You like my dick that much?”

On normal occasion, that comment would deserve a stabbing, but Katalina couldn’t even respond to him, thoroughly distracted by how she spasmed around him with every stroke. She couldn’t be bothered to hold back the moans that seemed to tumble from her endlessly, the fingers teasing her clit seeming to block out all but the liquid pleasure flooding her veins. She could feel another orgasm coming up fast, her thighs shaking as the new wave washed over her. Something in her seemed to snap in that moment and though her limbs felt like jelly, they were just as hard as ever as she slammed a sharp elbow into Grimmjow’s chest. He grunted and his grip loosened enough for her to whip around in his grasp and shove him onto his back. He looked ready to argue, and she practically dared him to as she settled herself over his hips.

He let out a feral growl as she took him inside of her again, his smirk equal parts smugness and appreciation as she set her hands on his chest to anchor herself as she set her pace. He reached out to grasp a pert nipple, hissing in satisfaction as her back bowed again, creating an angle they both seemed to enjoy. His other hand went to the small of her back, holding her in place as he continued to toy with the sensitive nub, their hips moving in concert. He stared up at her face, noting how the rage that had begun this ordeal was mixing with the pure animalistic hunger. Watching this bird’s carefully crafted façade crumble during their standard interactions was one thing but seeing her lose hold of that tight control she prided herself on as she rolled her hips against him desperately chasing release... Damn it, if it wasn’t the hottest thing he’d ever seen. And the best part of this was that every gasp, every bite of her lip, every squirm belonged to him alone.

“I fucking hate you, you insufferable bastard.” she huffed above him, eyes locked on him

He sucked his teeth as he sat up, the hand on her back trailing up to the nape of her neck and entangling in her dark waves. With a harsh tug, her head tipped back, her neck exposed and his for the taking. “Trust me, the feeling’s mutual, bitch.” He snarled, leaving bites along her throat.

Katalina’s nails hooked into his shoulder blades as they extended slightly, dragging a trail down his back that she knew for a fact was tearing his skin. Changing venues didn’t mean that the battle was over, just that she was changing tactics. She smirked when she felt the shiver that rumbled through his body. With each thrust, his pelvis scraped her clit, creating the most delicious friction that had the fire building in her core again. She bounced against him with reckless abandon, determined that he was going to tumble over the edge with her this time.

The hand at her breast dragged down her side, stopping at her ass to pull her impossibly closer. His grip was tight, holding her in place as he bucked into her. He felt her walls gripping him again, signaling her impending completion. His nails carved harsh divots into her hips, additional decoration to the bruises that his hands would leave there. His jaw clenched tightly, nostrils flaring as his grunts escaped more frequently. He felt his rhythm begin to falter when Katalina let out a hoarse whimper as her release rushed over her. Feeling her squeezing around him, he pulled her hips flush against his as he reached his own peak, biting her collarbone with a growl as his seed spilled into her in hot bursts. Once he was sure that both of their violent tremors had stopped, he leaned back onto the mattress again, hands falling from her hips and to his sides.

Katalina seemed to regain enough control of her body to roll off him, flopping beside him on the bed. He was breathing just as hard as she was as his eyes lazily combed over the room, taking note of the various clothing items scattered across the floor. His eyebrow ticked when he saw her pulling the blanket over her naked form and he immediately grabbed it and ripped it off her, taking it for himself. “Damn blanket hog,” he muttered.

She let out a huff and yanked it back, ready to pull it over herself again. “Pot and kettle, Jaegerjaquez.”

Before she could take all of it back, she felt him tugging it back towards himself, nearly dragging her with it. “My room. My sheets. My rules.”

“Have you forgotten you’re still not my king?” She snapped, tugging it again.

“And you’re still a pain in the ass.” He replied tersely, taking it back. “What’s your point?”

“That I don’t have to listen to you.” She explained coldly as the two of them finally reached a semi-compromise on the blanket distribution. “Besides, seeing as you’re the reason I’m naked, you should be the one providing me cover. It’s simple math!”

He tucked his hands behind his head. “Or you could just leave. But wait.” He glanced at her out of the corner of his eye, smirk curving his lips. “Can you even walk right now?”

Even though she knew he couldn’t see her, she rolled her eyes, annoyed. “Fuck you.”

Grimmjow let out a bark of laughter grinning wider. “Already did.”

Once again, silence reigned as Grimmjow closed his eyes and Katalina rolled onto her back to stare up at the ceiling. She couldn’t believe she let this happen again. She knew by now that the longer they fought after one of their exchanges turned ugly, the more their blood would boil, and somehow or another they would end up in his bed, a far cry from the semi-public quickies that began this affair. There were no emotions involved in this process, contrary to the gossip floating around—mostly courtesy of Di Roy. Just two Arrancars taking out their rage on each other in a way that caused significantly less collateral damage and just happened to feel damn amazing. Nothing more.

“That’s the fifth time this month.” Grimmjow commented casually, likely thinking along the same lines as her.

“Yyyup.”

The blue haired Espada opened one eye as he felt her shift, watching as she nestled herself into her usual sleeping position on her side. A corner of his mouth lifted in an arrogant smirk when he saw the pink marks spreading across her middle and lower back, a silent chuckle rumbling through him as he closed his eye again. It always stroked his ego to see the evidence of his conquest, even if it would only be visible for a few hours, if that; she healed pretty damn quickly.

Katalina closed her own eyes, sighing in agitation at the feeling of the nail tracks running over her back. She would have to heal them once she caught her breath. The last thing she needed was to make the rumors worse. Then again, she had also left her sword in the hallway nearby. Fantastic. At least she had left some decent marks on him, too. She glanced over her shoulder and grinned when her eyes caught the slashes covering his chest and shoulders, some of them dotted with pricks of blood. Serves you right.

She wrapped her arm around the pillow under her head and prepared to drift off into a post-coital nap, but abruptly stiffened when she felt an arm slide over her waist beneath the blanket. On complete instinct, she rammed her head backwards. She heard a loud grunt behind her as she felt her mask run into what she assumed was his nose, his hand leaving to cover the injury, most likely. “For crying out loud, Grimmjow, we just had hate sex!” she berated him, “There is no cuddling in hate sex!”

She was right, though. For as long as this had been going on, if Katalina didn’t leave immediately after she caught her breath, they would always nap with their backs to each other. Not a single touch would be exchanged after the fact. This was their routine and they had decided since the beginning it would stay that way. The last thing either one of them needed was the opportunity to make things complicated.

Grimmjow sniffed up the blood quickly after he popped his nose back into alignment and growled. He grabbed her shoulder and jerked it so that she was now lying on her back, giving her the perfect view of the fieriest glare of the day. “If you would quit stealing my shit, I wouldn’t have to go stealing your damn body heat!” he roared. “I’m bigger, I should obviously get more!”

She glared right back at him, eyes briefly flicking down before meeting his again. “Well, someone’s certainly overestimating himself.”

His brows shot up and then his eyes narrowed dangerously. He could feel the veins in his neck throbbing in anger and in the next moment, he had her pinned beneath him. “That’s it!”

“What?!” she yelled back, trying to pull her wrists free as he nudged her legs apart with his knee. “That you’re overestimating yourseee—”

Her argument died before it could fully form, mouth hanging open as he pushed into her again. “You’re gonna learn some damn manners, Tarumi.” He snapped through clenched teeth.

Katalina writhed beneath him, trying to hold back the sounds threatening to tear from her throat. How was he already this hard again so soon after release? She hardly had time to mull over that question, her attention taken up by how he had her practically melting around him each time he slowly burrowed himself in her hypersensitive core. She could feel every drag of his length within her, the sparks running so deep she could feel them in her bones. She shifted her arms, trying to pull her hands free of his grasp so she could tug his hair, grab at his arms, something to distract her from this unrelenting hunger trying to claw out of her, only for him to press down harder. His skin was entirely too hot against hers as he leaned down to nip the shell of her ear. “You’re not goin’ anywhere.” he snarled.

It wasn’t a threat, but rather a statement of fact, one that he punctuated with by a thrust that had her toes curling. He did not move from that position until he felt her shift and saw her keen in frustration. He pulled out to the tip and then slammed into her again, making her jump. He did this repeatedly, lifting his head to look at Katalina as she greedily wrapped her legs around his waist. She was a wreck, bangs glued to her forehead with sweat, red eyes half-lidded and practically glowing with desire as she lifted her hips to meet his. He gathered her wrists in one hand, the other trailing down to her clit again. She took in a sharp breath, a tremor running from her spine and spreading through her whole body as she came undone. He rode her through her sudden release, not stopping until he reached his own. He pulled out of her slowly, just to see the way her eyes fluttered shut as she bit her lip, and then plopped back down onto the bed.

The blanket was hardly an issue anymore. It was tangled somewhere in a mess of limbs as the two lay there trying to catch their breath again. Sixth time. Katalina mentally added to the tally, though she was surprised that she was even able to think at this point. Damn it.

“So, remind me…” She turned to see a very smug Grimmjow smirking at her. “Who’s the king?”

She rolled her eyes, deciding to humor him this one time. “You are.”

“And what does the king do?”

“Whatever he wants.”

“Why?”

“Because no one tells him he’s full of shit.”

Grimmjow bit her shoulder in retaliation. “Wrong answer.”

Regardless, he wrapped his arms around her waist and settled his head on her breasts. Her eyebrow ticked in agitation. “Do you mind?” she asked through gritted teeth.

“Nope.” He said, his smirk growing as he glanced up at her. “These are a hell of a lot better than pillows, anyway.”

With an exasperated sigh, she threw one arm over her face. “You’re such a pain…” she muttered, getting as comfortable as she could with him clinging to her.

“Pot and kettle, Kat…” He murmured back.

She sucked her teeth. “If you’re going to shorten my name, call me Lina like everybody else…”

He worked himself into more comfortable position—for him, anyway. “Call me biased, but Kat sounds better.”

She pushed his head more firmly onto her breast so his mask would stop poking her sternum. “It’s my name, though, so my opinion trumps yours.”

Katalina was prepared for the incoming snark in reply. What she did not expect was the soft rumble of purring against her collarbone and the deep snore that followed. Lifting her arm to peek at Grimmjow, she saw his eyes were already closed. As she felt his full weight sinking down on her, rendering her immobile, she pinched the bridge of her nose in aggravation at the realization that she was stuck here. “This asshole…”

--

The air crackled as you reached for the top shelf, fingers barely getting halfway. You slumped back down at the realization you couldn’t lay a hand on the last box of pop tarts but the disappointment was quickly squashed by the sense that you were not alone in the aisle. Turning slowly, your eyes widened as they landed on him, taking in the casual way he was dressed, and how different he looked since you’d last seen him. His hair was pulled back into a ponytail, blond strands framing his face, slightly lighter than the thick stubble that covered his jaw. The last time you had laid eyes on him, he was in full battle-dress, a stark contrast to the faded denim and black t-shirt he was presented in this time.

“I was under the impression you would be hard to find, Lady Y/N,” Thor murmured, approaching you as if you could attack at any moment. You remained still, shocked at the sight of him, following his hand as it reached up behind you and easily scooped your prize from the top shelf. “I guess I know you a little better than Natasha does.”

“What -” Your voice came out squeaky, so you paused, swallowing around the lump in your throat. “What are you doing here?”

“Stark informed me that you had accepted sanctuary on Earth,” he said softly, placing the pop tarts in your hand. “That you signed the Accords.”

“It was either that or return to Asgard,” you shrugged. “And we both know I’m not welcome there.”

“There are other worlds,” he pointed out.

You smirked at him, dropping the sweet treat into your cart. “None with pop tarts.” With a glance over your shoulder at him, you pushed on. “I should have known you would find me.” He began to follow as you strolled down to the next aisle. “Though I’m surprised it took so long. Losing your touch?”

Thor chuckled deeply. “You haven’t lost your sharp tongue, my lady.”

Sighing heavily, you slowed to a stop, turning to look at him. He paused only a few inches away, blue stormy eyes boring into yours. “Why did you come here, Thor?”

For a moment, he appeared confused, eyebrows drawing together in a frown. You waited, one hand on the cart, the other limp at your side.

“We did not part on good terms,” he muttered, suddenly breaking eye contact. “Not a day has passed that I have not thought about you.”

You snorted, turning abruptly to continue on, pushing the cart with a little more force than necessary. Thor stalled for a moment before following, rushing to catch up and walk beside you.

“Y/N, stop -”

“No,” you ground out, keeping your eyes ahead, fingers curled so tightly around the handle of the cart that the metal began to warp.

“Y/N -”

Your temper flared and you turned to face him, feeling the rage burning through your veins. “What do you want from me?” you yelled, attracting the attention of other late night shoppers. A few paused, one or two pulled out cameras, obviously recognizing the significantly more famous face you were shouting at.

Thor’s eyes darted around, a concerned expression developing, and the heat in your blood simmered, rationality taking over.

“This is not the appropriate place for this,” you grunted bitterly.

“Then perhaps we could discuss this somewhere more private?” he suggested hopefully.

A wry smile tugged at your lips. “We both know that would be a very stupid idea.”

“I promise, Y/N,” he said quietly but firmly. “I only wish to explain myself. To apologize.”

You stared at him, chewing the inside of your cheek as you considered his request. The possibility of a physical altercation of any kind was highly likely when you thought back over every other encounter you’d ever had with him. Thor was a flame, and you were the moth, drawn to him at every single turn, but curiosity was pushing you to accept his request.

Finally, you sighed and nodded. “Would you prefer to drive with me, or are you going to…” You finished the sentence by flinging your hand up in a flying motion, and Thor grinned.

“I will accompany you,” he chuckled.

“Great,” you replied, teeth gritted. “Good thing I’m almost done.”

It only took another thirty minutes to get through the rest of your shopping and that was with being derailed by two young ladies who had recognized and begged Thor for a selfie, which he seemed happy to indulge. You ignored the interaction, stalking off with your purchased items and leaving him to catch up in the parking lot.

“Let me,” he requested as you opened the trunk, and you happily stepped back, allowing him to load the few bags into the car as you climbed into the driver’s seat. In the rearview, you watched him return the cart with a friendly wave to the guy stacking them.

The whole car shuddered and sank under his weight when he got in beside you, his huge frame awkwardly hunched in your little compact. Unlike most Asgardians, you were small in stature, though it didn’t diminish your inhuman strength, and only increased your speed. You waited until he was buckled in, trying not to stare at the way the belt sat snug between his pecs, pulling his shirt tight across them.

“To your home, I presume?” he asked, and you nodded, unwilling to talk with such a suddenly dry mouth.

You didn’t live far from the grocery store. Part of your agreement with the American government was a small stipend each month which allowed you to live in relative solitude, though it required you make yourself available to them - a clause they had not yet called into play.

“This is it,” you muttered, pulling into the driveway. You didn’t wait for any acknowledgment, climbing out and heading to the trunk to retrieve your bags. Thor followed, and the car raised several inches as he climbed out, making you smirk in amusement. Once again, he insisted on shouldering all the burden so you simply shrugged and headed for the front door, keys in hand.

It was a modest little house, one you’d worked hard to make comfortable over the last year. The few possessions you had managed to carry with you from Asgard were scattered among other curiosities you had gathered in your new home, along with shelves upon shelves of books. Your living room resembled more of a library than a home, but you were happy with it, and it wasn’t like you had frequent visitors to entertain.

The only people you’d seen in the last year were government agents following up on your end of the deal, making sure you were remaining out of trouble.

Trouble seemed to have found you after all.

“It is… nice,” Thor announced as he loitered in the doorway, surveying your humble little home. His head was only an inch or two off of scraping the doorframe, and he looked ridiculously out of place, but you couldn’t help feeling a little proud of the life you’d built and glad that he could see that you were very capable of surviving on your own.

“Thank you,” you replied, gesturing to the kitchen. “You wanna put those on the table?”

He nodded and continued on with the bags, placing them atop the large oak table that dominated your small kitchen. “Your voice is different,” he commented quietly.

“Just trying to blend in,” you forced out, grabbing for the first bag. “Can I get you something to drink?”

“I’m fine.”

“I need to put all this stuff away,” you sighed. “Why don’t you go make yourself comfortable in the living room?” He glanced back the way he’d come and you smirked. “Just through there.” His sheepish smile made your grin grow unbidden, but when his back turned and he disappeared through the hall into the lounge, you dropped your elbows onto the table and covered your face with your hands. “What am I doing?” you groaned quietly, digging your fingertips into your temples.

You just had to be firm with him. Whatever explanation he had for what he did, it didn’t change things. He had chosen a human over you, and his father had banished you for your part in their plot to save the same human. Thor had only watched as Odin stripped you of your very identity and stranded you on Midgard. In the two years since that had happened, you’d put that betrayal behind you, rebuilt yourself and your life, albeit a lonely one, and you were damned if Thor was going to destroy any of that.

It didn’t take long to get the groceries away but you took an extra few moments to make yourself some tea, carrying it through to the living room with you. Thor hadn’t made himself comfortable on the couch, not that you’d expected him to; he was standing by the large ornate bookcase in the corner that stretched from floor to ceiling, thumbing through a book. You tilted your head to catch the title, smiling in amusement when you saw it was one of your Norse mythology tomes.

“Some of the things they got wrong about us are hilarious,” you commented, sliding into your favorite spot on the couch. Thor looked up with a grin, closing the book, replacing it on the shelf with the others. “And it’s remarkably easy to pretend to be a professor of mythology when you lived through most of the legends.”

“Is that what you do with your time?”

You shrugged, lifting your tea to blow across the surface. “Only a few hours a week. It’s entertaining.”

Thor’s grin didn’t fade and he moved to the big armchair opposite you, dropped one meaty hand to the top, assessing it quickly to make sure it would hold his weight. He sat slowly, keeping his eyes on you. “My father was wrong to banish you,” he said softly. “And I am sorry that I did not speak up for you.”

Keeping your composure, you leaned forward, placing your tea on the low table between you. “I made my peace with that,” you replied coolly. “I knew it was a possibility when I helped you and Jane escape.”

His eyebrows drew together again in confusion. “I must admit, I’m confused,” he confessed. “Why are you so displeased to see me if you have forgiven my betrayal?”

You sighed, rolling your eyes. “It amazes me that you have lived over a thousand years and you are still so clueless.”

“Enlighten me,” he requested gently, leaning his arms on his knees.

“I’m not sure that would be wise,” you chuckled dryly. “If you do not know by now how I feel, then I fear there is little hope.”

He looked surprised at your choice of words. “How you… feel?”

Sighing again, you leaned heavily on the couch arm, propping your chin on your knuckles. “Do you remember when we first met?”

“Of course,” he laughed. “Your mother was handmaiden to mine. We used to play together in the gardens.”

“We grew up together,” you mused quietly. “Trained together. We became adults together, fought together… we…” Your throat dried a little at the recollection of the more intimate times you’d shared, young stolen moments in the back halls and chambers of the palace. “All that time, and you believed we were only friends? Was that all it was for you?”

Clarity descended on his face, astonishment widening his eyes.

“It’s funny,” you continued, “I always imagined it would be the Lady Sif I lost your heart to. But I suppose… if I never had your heart at all, then how could I lose it?” Your chest felt tight as you shifted to pick up your tea again, sipping it delicately, avoiding his gaze. “When you chose Jane, when you left me to your father’s mercy, I accepted my fate. And I have tried to move on.”

“Did you succeed?”

The question threw you and you looked at him sharply.

“I thought I did.”

Thor was quiet for a moment, watching you as you gripped the porcelain cup in your hands tightly, hoping the shaking in your fingers wasn’t too obvious. You couldn’t take your eyes off of him, watching the blue storm in his gaze, remembering other times when he looked at you with such intensity.

“I was a fool,” he said suddenly.

You broke eye contact, putting your cup down again. “Maybe,” you whispered. “Maybe we both were.”

“You were never a fool, Y/N,” he murmured softly. “You were always my dearest friend.”

The comment stung and you looked away, trying to ignore the tears gathering in your eyes as you waited for the ultimate rebuttal, waited for him to tell you that he had never felt the same need for you as you had for him.

He moved then, taking to his knee in front of you, reaching for your hands as you met his gaze with watery eyes. “But I… I was such a fool. To believe that I belonged anywhere but with you.” You sniffed, choking back a sob as he smiled and lifted one hand to wipe away an escaped tear.

“You belong on Asgard,” you stuttered. “I no longer do.”

“What if I could change that?”

You paused, staring at him in shock before shaking your head. “No. I do not wish to return to a people that shunned me. There is no one left there that I care about.” Tugging your hands free, your expression turned to stone as you looked at him. “And I know you would not stay. You have a purpose, Thor. We both know your journey does not end with me.”

“Then come with me,” he urged. “Fight with me.”

Shaking your head again, you pushed him away, getting to your feet. “It would break the agreement I have with the people of this planet.”

“You wish to stay here?” he asked, standing and watching as you crossed the room to the fireplace, putting distance between you. “Why?”

“I have fought in a thousand battles,” you exhaled, leaning one arm on the wooden mantelpiece. “I have lost family, friends, my home… this place, this existence, it may seem small to you, but it’s mine, and I am not subject to the grief and gravity of any position. I built this… this is my home now, Thor.” You met his gaze again, trying not to let your trembling become apparent, nor to let your resolve crumble. “Would you really wish for me to give that up?”

He was silent, and you nodded, requiring nothing more as an answer. Pushing away from the fireplace, you approached him slowly, lifting one hand to take hold of his.

“I will always love you, Thor Odinson,” you whispered, lacing your fingers through his. “But our paths meet in fleeting circumstance and you know you cannot stay.”

You went to pull away but he suddenly tightened his hand, holding you in place. When you looked up at him with a puzzled expression, he leaned in, pressing his lips to yours in a soft and gentle kiss that stole your breath away. For a moment, you indulged the buried need for him, letting it blossom as he continued to deepen the caress. When he pulled away, you were panting, clinging to his hand like it was your very last hope.

“I cannot stay,” he admitted quietly. “And you are right there are things I have yet to do. Something is coming and our people are in danger, and I would not be able to rest knowing I have done nothing. But I cannot leave until…”

“Until?” you prompted, when seconds ticked by without a resolution to his words.

His lips twitched into a smile, his free hand cupping your jaw. “Until I know I can come back.”

You almost sagged against him, clinging to his shirt with one hand, the other still contained in his larger fingers. “Thor…”

“My Lady Y/N,” he purred back, coaxing you into another kiss that you willingly accepted. The need you’d allowed to surface was becoming all-consuming, mixing with the need to have him return to you, to ease your loneliness in the life you’d chosen. A hope you’d carried for over a millennium burned brighter with each stroke of his tongue over yours, and your fingers twisted in his shirt as you tried to get closer to him.

“Would you stay tonight?” you asked nervously, pulling away only a fraction.

He smiled, nodding lightly. “I will stay a while,” he murmured, dropping a chaste kiss to your lips in between words.

“Then let me show you the bedroom,” you whispered with a slightly shy look, tugging on his hand to lead him to the stairs at the back of the house. He looked almost comical in the small hallways, his large breadth meaning his shoulders nearly brushed each wall as you guided him up to the second floor of your small house. The bedroom took up most of the space up there, with a bathroom occupying the last few square feet.

He didn’t waste time once you were inside the open area, pulling you into another eager embrace, kissing away each nerve and reservation until your resolve was utterly obliterated. You found yourself half-naked before him, rectifying that by almost tearing his shirt in your hurry to even the score.

“I can get you more clothes,” you giggled, dissolving into moans when his hand found its way under the waistband of your pants and underwear, thick fingers caressing you intimately. “Oh…”

Thor grinned, pushing his hand deeper until he had a single digit buried in your tight channel, stroking in exactly the right spot. You clung to his shoulders, panting as he fucked his finger into you, his eyes locked on your face as your expression dissolved with pleasure. “Do you want more?” he asked quietly.

You could only manage a nod with your bottom lip captured between your teeth but instead of increasing the stimulation, he withdrew, pulling you towards the bed. His shirt hit the floor before he turned his attention to your pants, disrobing you until you were entirely nude.

“Lie down,” he murmured, kissing you again, trailing one hand down to tease a puckered nipple. You shuddered and obeyed, sitting on the edge of the bed without taking your eyes off of him. He dropped to his knees in front of you, slipping one hand over your bare thigh, and you realized he’d asked you to lay, not sit. Leaning back, you swallowed a whimper as he pressed your legs apart, returning his fingers to your sex. It had been so long since anyone had touched you like this - human males seemed too fragile for the sort of enthusiasm you usually displayed and most of your attempts had failed miserably. The only man who had ever pleased you without concern for injury was the one touching you now, further proof, you felt, that he was the only one for you.

He was quick to penetrate you again, leaning in as his fingers filled you, dragging his tongue over the swollen pearl of nerves that made a shaky breath pass your lips. You fisted the sheets underneath you in one hand, letting the other dance over his golden locks as he began to feast on your cunt. He grunted as he devoured you, his free hand pinning your thigh to the bed as his other fingers fucked into you with a steady stroke.

“Thor,” you whined, pushing yourself further up the bed as if you could escape the unbearable pleasure building in your core. He only tightened his hold on you, and you heard the bed creak under his weight. “Thor, please -”

Pulling his mouth away abruptly, he grinned at you, withdrawing his fingers with a little more leisure and sliding them into his mouth, sucking your essence from them. “You’re still just as impatient as always.”

You smirked, pushing up onto your elbows as you watched him stand and discard his pants before he crawled up the bed, his larger frame covering yours. His knees parted your thighs, the thick heft of his cock resting heavily against your drenched sex as he drove in for another kiss.

“I missed you,” you murmured, brushing your nose against his when he broke away once more. His blue eyes seemed to shuffle through darker hues as he looked down at you, careful to hold the majority of his weight off of your body.

“And I you,” he replied. “But I will always endeavor to return to you, Y/N. I swear by all of Asgard and the Nine Realms; I belong with you.”

You wanted to say more, though it felt superfluous, but then Thor was pushing into you, filling you so completely that all you could do was cling to him. Each kiss was met with enthusiasm, and you quickly wrapped your legs around him to pull him in deeper, letting him settle in your belly with a comfortable and familiar weight. One of his hands rested on your ass, the other underneath your shoulder, and when he began to move, every cell in your body sang.

His thrusts were measured and slow but hard enough that you felt the first stirrings of climax within only minutes, digging your fingernails into his shoulders as he drove into you. You whimpered into each kiss, responding to every touch with just as much passion as he gave, desperate and unwilling to break contact with him for so much as a second. Thor seemed to share that sentiment, moving the hand under your shoulder to cradle your head, allowing him to plunder your mouth with his tongue until you were aching to breathe. Your head swam with bliss, and you could barely find the strength to cry out as the wave of pleasure dragged you under.

Thor slowed, lifting to watch you as you fell apart, keeping his strokes hard and purposeful, glancing down to witness your body accepting every inch of him. “My Queen,” he hummed, dropping his mouth to suck one hard nipple between his lips.

You smiled lazily at the quiet comment. “I’m not a Queen,” you corrected softly.

His eyes met yours, and he released your breast with a wet pop. “To me, you are.” He didn’t give you a chance to argue, sweeping you away on another round of intense kisses, rocking into you with a steady rhythm. You felt the pressure in your belly build once more, only this time, you want to feel him, all of him.

“Thor -”

“I know,” he shushed, breathless with exertion. “Kiss me.”

It wasn’t a crescendo like you’d experienced before. This time felt different, more concrete, more mature - he was promising to always return to you, even if he couldn’t stay. His oath was more binding than even the bond you’d shared as children, and you knew it would be a vow he would never break.

“Let me feel you,” he whispered, and you crashed, clinging to him as he spilled into you, eagerly accepting a last hard kiss before the both of you collapsed atop the sheets. Thor was quick to move you into a more comfortable position, holding your body firm against his as he sought out lazy, gentle kisses and caresses.

You laid still in his arms for a while, enjoying the warmth of his body, listening to his heart pound in his chest, mirroring your own heartbeat. There was a stickiness you’d have to deal with eventually, though that threw up an entirely new problem.

“You know,” you whispered, looking up at him as he gazed down at you, “I’m not sure you’re going to fit in the shower.”

He laughed, a throaty and loud noise that made you smile anew. “We’ll figure it out,” he chuckled when his mirth died down a little.

For a second, you simply stared at him, unable to voice the dozens of questions clogging your head and your heart. “And everything else?”

Thor smiled, cupping your cheek and leaning in to kiss you softly. “There is nothing we cannot conquer,” he murmured, “together.”

Lance blinks and chokes out a “What?” Though his cheeks start to darken almost immediately, proof he knew exactly what Keith meant.

Keith goes on anyway.

“Like… just… I mean, we’re soldiers, two very hot soldiers, we know each other better than anyone else in the known universe, got each other’s back… you’ve got a nice back… I mean. With all the times we got locked in rooms together, side missions, stranded on planets, just— you’d think we’d have hooked up by now.” 

“Keith I dunno how to tell you this bud, I mean you’re definitely like— unholy levels of— well— beautiful— but like. I’m not. I’ve never been…uh...Gosh this is a really good drink. You wanna try it?”

Keith glances at the cup in Lances hand, it’s purple and kind of glitters, a little like Lance’s lips. 

Keith has been ordering ales. Not adventurous and pretty much a light weight. Lance had been ordering all these strong colorful things, two for every one of Keith’s and barely getting fuzzy around the edges. Clearly more seasoned. He told Keith he’s been drinking since he was sixteen and was “good at it.”

Keith meanwhile felt hot in the face. 

In the face and in the chest and Lance’s lips sparkled…

“What’s...what’s it taste like?” Keith murmured aloud. 

Lance blinked and took a long drought from his cup. He very clearly swished his tongue around his mouth to get a good solid taste of his own drink so he can explain the taste properly, but Keith gets impatient. 

Or opportunistic.

Thinking about the way Lance’s pupils dilated when he looked at Keith and stumbled out the word “beautiful” 

Staring at the liquid glitter on Lance’s beautiful lips.

So, he slips his hand behind Lance’s neck and pulls him in until his lips are a breath away from his own. 

And despite his earlier renouncement of his interest he comes without a fuss, his lips even part in just the most inviting way…

His eye lids slip down and his hand slides around Keith’s waist and pulls him in just a bit closer and— 

 And someone nearby makes a particularly improper comment and Keith sees red. 

And despite Lance— beautiful and perfect and right within his grasp— being so, so willing, Keith has to pull away and remove that horrific stain on that perfect moment. 

Because if he’s going to kiss Lance, really, finally kiss Lance, then it isn’t going to be to the backdrop of some loathsome ingrate whose brain is stuck so far in the past his immediate ancestors were possibly fish. 

 It’s unfortunate that a whole brawl broke out when Keith took that first guy down, but is it really his fault someone didn’t recognize the leader of the Paladins of Voltron? 

Besides, Keith’s had just enough to drink to stop being too cautious about his own strength and skill and he crushes the minor riot in a few quick flips and well-aimed kicks. 

He imagines it could have been a nice little warm up if he still had the Altean castles training room to work out in later. 

Marmora missions aren’t nearly as hands on anymore and Keith is signing up for them less and less to help Lance and the others at the garrison. 

So, getting in some actual hand to hand? Using the muscle he’d built up for years and had no excuses for anymore? Just feels good to stretch his legs like that. Release some of that tension. 

 By the time he turns back to Lance who’d since returned to their table to sip at his drink again and watch him take care of the stragglers, Lance is looking at him funny. 

 Not funny haha but funny weird.

Weird in the way it kinda settles as this warmth in the pit of his stomach and his face gets even hotter than it was previously and his voice may be a little shrill when he speaks as opposed to the cool and aloof demeanor he’d displayed while kicking bar rioter ass. 

 But it makes Lance smile so screw aloofness. 

 “L-Lance?”

 Lance lifts his glass and holds it out to the ex-red Paladin as he walks over on legs that are far shakier than they need to be. 

“Still wanna try?” He chuckles a little. 

And Keith is disappointed by his wasted opportunity but nods, reaching for the glass. 

Except, Lance retrieves it, presses the glass to his lips and downs the rest.

Keith eyes the shimmer on his lips again. The way Lance leisurely places the cup back down on the table behind him and tilts his head forward as he taps the corner of his lips.

“You better act fast or you’ll miss it.” 

 It may come as a surprise, but Keith really and truly… couldn’t give a damn about the drink. 

 It was good, sugary sweet like candy. Keith would have wondered if it was even alcoholic if it wasn’t for the fact that the moment Keith’s lips touched Lance’s it felt like something bursting in his chest. The culmination of years of want. Of questioning Lance’s sincerity, of wishing to just take this one step—

 Lance’s lips part invitingly, and Keith can’t even be bothered to care that they’re surrounded by groaning and or knocked out men laying on the floor of a bar in the outskirts of town. 

Keith takes that invitation and his tongue finds more of that sweetness in Lance’s mouth but it’s not what he wants. 

He pushes deeper, stands on his toes in an effort to tower over Lance and push him against their all but forgotten table. Lance chuckles instead, holding his ground as his hands go around Keith’s waist again. He grips his sides as he presses their bodies together, the strength in his hands causing Keith to sigh into the kiss that’s finally starting to taste like it’s just Lance.

It fills him with renewed vigor, and he moans into the kiss, the noise startling Lance just enough for him to land back into their booth.

 By the time they finally part Lance is on his back on the booths seat with Keith’s knees straddle his waist. Keith wants to go right back to it, but Lance looks like he’s catching his breath to say something, so he waits.

Because contrary to popular belief, he loves every ridiculous word that comes out of his mouth.

He listens to Lance slowly start to chuckle, so he waits.

Because even if it’s some stupid joke, this is Lance’s response to their first kiss, and he knows he’ll want to remember it all.

He feels Lance’s hands as they start to come around him, one up the side of his face and into his hair, the other around his waist and squeezing; and still Keith fights every instinct in him to kiss him again because Lance’s eyes are gleaming.

 Keith squirms instead, because he’s impatient and he needs Lance to know without a doubt how much he’s struggling. Lance’s breath hitches at the movement and he almost loses his cool, instead he tugs on Keith’s hair and dips his other arm just low enough to grip Keith’s ass cheek through his pants. 

 Keith’s lips fall open on a silent moan and he’s seconds away from begging Lance to let him kiss him again when Lance laughs. 

“Oh man… definitely unholy.” 

 And Keith loves it, because Lance is smiling and breathy and beautiful, but also, “Is that it?!” 

Lance grins and tugs him down by his hair, eliciting another questionable sound from Keith before their lips meet again. 

 It’s a few moments of grinding their hips together and memorizing the feel of each other’s mouths, completely ignoring the bar and the rest of the world around them, when Keith finally pulls away.

“Take me home.”

 He pulls off Lance completely and grabs him by the hand, pulling him out of the booth and tugging him to step right over the unconscious body of one of Keith’s many victims this evening. 

Lance makes a face at the carnage, probably having forgotten all about it, that looks somewhere between embarrassed and proud before he squeezes Keith’s hand and follows him briskly out of the bar.

 “Yup, I’m probably in love with a demon.” 

 Keith paused and looked back at him, unsure if he’d heard correctly. Lance’s face reddens but once again, he holds his ground, staring him right in the face and taking nothing back. 

So, Keith laughs instead.