#klancesecretsanta

“The effects...” Allura gave a wary glance to Coran, “Can transcend lifetimes.”

The finality of her words made Lance’s stomach bottom out. He squeaked, half indignant and half disbelieving, “Are you kidding me? You’re saying we’re… soulmates or something? No. No can do. I refuse.”

Keith looked uncomfortable but he managed to hold it together. “I did what I had to do. We were in trouble and she wasn’t going to accept you. Someone had to do something. Grow up and be a part of this team.”

The scene replays in Lance’s head even though it feels like eons have passed since the incident. They were both reeling and even at the time, Lance had known how Keith felt because those feelings were shoved into his spine with the force of sledgehammer. They fought about it for days anyway.

The prospect of piloting the Red Lion had excited Lance - and somewhere deep down he’d been even more pleased that Keith had asked him for reasons Lance didn’t actually understand - but in practice it all happened a little too fast. None of them knew what they were doing, least of all Lance, even if he did everything he could to make it appear he did. The whole idea scared him from the beginning.

Maybe that was why. Maybe it was just because Lance didn’t understand Keith’s reasons or maybe it was because Lance was still mad about what sloppy excuse for a leader Keith was proving to be. (Lance, in fact, made the independent decision to only take orders when they came from Allura’s mouth, which took morale between him and Keith to all time low). He told himself that things would shift back to normal when they had Shiro back, but days turned to weeks and weeks turned to months.

When Lance slid into Red’s cockpit, Keith had to coax her to accept him - stubborn lion that she was - and Keith being the stubborn pilot that he was slipped his own consciousness in with her. Mistakes were made. This particular misstep, however, proved to be Lance’s least favorite.

The connection that remained between them was not a continuous onslaught of invasive and unwelcome emotions - as Lance was prone to claim when he found Keith particularly irritating - but in reality it was more like an invisible string tied between them. Sometimes there was give and it felt normal. Other times there was a soft tug, pulling secrets, fears, and wants from them silently.

In many ways this is worse.

Lance is now intimately aware of Keith’s wariness, the fear that colors the edge of anger, and indecision that plagues his sense of authority. It crashes on him every time Keith screws up and every time Lance is unable stop it. The prod of emotion is gentle enough that Lance never sees it coming.

He decides to bury Keith’s feelings within his own, crate them, and send them barrelling down light years to the bottom of Earth’s oceans. Each time Keith lets himself in Lance’s room at night, when Lance just wants to wallow in his own self-pity, it’s harder. Each time he lays a hand on Lance’s shoulder, saying in strained voice You were calling me, it’s harder.

It’s hard.

Acting normal is the hardest part but life must go on. Lance is good at that so he swallows and knocks on Keith’s door; shave and a haircut, two bits. Because Lance knows it annoys him.

Keith answers the door shirtless, freshly showered, and pleasantly annoyed. “What?”

He looks smaller without his jacket, lean and lithe muscle on a strong but compact frame. Lance grins at him and leans heavily into his doorframe, flashing his bandaged hand. “Heard you still had some of the good stuff we gathered from Xoeliv.”

Keith rolls his eyes and waves Lance inside, the door sliding shut behind him. “The next time someone tells you to be efficient with your use of rare alien painkillers, listen to them.” Keith shuffles through papers and Altean books and Lance how he can ever find anything in the general state of chaos that has become Keith’s bedroom. “What’d you do anyway? Pretty sure you spent the whole day goofing off downstairs while Hunk helped Pidge install the upgrades.”

“I was helping,” Lance supplies and Keith shoots him a deadpan look over his shoulder. “It’s called teamwork my friend, though I know that’s a difficult concept for you to comprehend.”

Keith turns to full-on glare at him, vial of miracle salve in hand, and Lance folds his arms over his chest. It so happened that Lance’s share was used for a - very valid - sprained ankle. It wasn’t his fault Coran wouldn’t deem the injury severe enough for the cryopod. He believes Keith just prefers for him to suffer.

As Keith walks over, still looking every bit the high-strung prick he very much is, his eyes drift down Lance’s body, and for all things holy and good, Lance knows he doesn’t even know he’s doing it. Tragic. Keith catches Lance’s eye and raises an eyebrow.

“Fine. I was showing off some of my very dance sweet moves and consequently slammed my hand into a metal post. An unfortunate casualty of my being continually awesome. Are you happy now?”

Laughter swells from Keith and the sound is filled with a soft buoyancy that Lance is pleased to have put there, however unintentional the series of events that led him there had been. “Yeah, I’m pretty happy.”

Lance reaches for the vial but Keith pulls back, shaking it. “I don’t think so. I’m not giving it to you so you can waste it every time you get a paper cut. Hold out your hand.”

Lance complies, if not with a grudge. “If you wanted to hold my hand, all you had to do-”

“Lance.”

He blanches beneath Keith’s tone, the way he’s managed to emulate Shiro’s inflection is more irritating and uncomfortable to Lance than anything he actually says. He complies without further argument, wincing as Keith tears off the bandage.

When Keith’s thumb slides over his palm, Lance looks up from Keith’s bony wrists to watch as a lock of hair falls in Keith’s face. Keith is beautiful in a way that Lance has long since recognized - the way he moves, the way he smiles, the way he seems so unflappable - but it’s more visceral now, something that catches Lance’s eye in the strangest moments. The fingers of his other hand twitch at his side.

Lance recalls sobering moments in the flight class they shared back at the Garrison, watching Keith - really watching him - ace through simulations with such a lack of effort that made Lance feel like he was two inches tall. He’d spend hours at night venting to Hunk about how he would be better, greater than Keith one day - just watch him - and he’d fall asleep thinking of cutting class with Keith to share secrets and stories.

“What are you thinking about?”

A flush spreads across Lance’s features and Keith tilts his head, expression curious. Lance gives a nervous chuckle in an effort to ease the tension, but the sound comes out thin and worn. He lays his head down on Keith’s shoulder to hide the red tinge on his cheeks even if he’s never fooled anyone.

They have an easy intimacy when they’re alone but neither of them know what to do with it. That much hasn’t changed.

“What are you doing?” There’s an edge to Keith’s voice.

There’s always been an easy intimacy between them, even before things got needlessly complicated. The only difference now is that it’s become harder to ignore. Lance tucks his face further into the crook of Keith’s neck. He smells nice. “I’m tired.”

Keith sighs, exasperated. The air crackles lightly and Lance feels the push of frustration. “Are we ever going to talk about this?”

Lance sucks in a breath and opens one eye to glance over Keith’s shoulder toward the spot above his bed where he marks off the days. The longest scratch marks the day they landed in the first wormhole and the deepest, thrust in a good inch, marks the day they reunited after the second. Lance idly wonders if the princess has any idea the infallible Keith is carving up her pristine castle walls. It’s hundreds and hundreds of shallow lines panning from the corner above his pillow and down the length of his bed. Totaled up, the days add up to just over three years, or so Keith says, and it makes Lance's stomach turn.

Keith’s ugly calendar reminds him that even if they make it back, he can never go home.

“What’s there to talk about?” Lance replies curtly. “I haven’t had a full night’s sleep in months because you won’t stay out of my head. Annoying.”

Keith is quiet for a minute, pulse thrumming against Lance’s cheek. “I don’t mean to,” he finally says. “You keep calling to me.”

Lance’s heart jumps into his throat. Of all the things wrong, he’s painfully aware he’s not alone. He wonders at how it feels for Keith to feel his own pushes, given how Lance buries himself in bitterness at least have the time. He wants to ask, wants to know. “Try harder,” he says, instead.

“You don’t...” Keith’s tone is pinched, and Lance can practically hear the grind of his teeth. Each tender moment they share is a high wire dance between isolation and intimacy. Gravity was bound to make them fall one way or the other. “Just tell me what you want.”

You. Lance keeps his mouth shut, eyes flashing again over the smooth plane of Keith’s shoulder. Keith’s need to fix every little thing drives Lance crazy with the way Keith hovers over him for all the wrong reasons. He is terrible. Awful. A mess.

“You need me,” Lance says. “I want you to say it.”

Keith pushes Lance back to look him in the eye. Without further warning or preamble he slides a palm behind Lance’s neck and pulls him forward just enough for their lips to meet.

Keith doesn't kiss like anyone Lance has kissed before. He's firm, self-assured, and a little greedy. There is nothing tentative there. Nothing soft or delicate like the touch of a girl. Lance grasps at the fast-fading memories of his seventh-grade girlfriend with her cotton-candy pink braces, of the tall brunette in their dorm hall at the Garrison with her green paisley bed sheets, or any of the other girls that fell in-between, with their soft lips and soft curves.

Keith is none of that. Just certain and unapologetic, all hard edges, impatient and bold, like he’s planned this for years.

Lance opens his mouth - to object, he thinks - but instead invites Keith to explore deeper, allowing his teeth to tug faintly at his bottom lip and tongue to press inside his mouth.

The kiss is good - experienced - and a quiet jealousy flares in Lance’s belly thinking of all the game nights with Hunk and Pidge that Keith never showed up for. He thinks of the rare nights Keith wasn’t pushing himself to exhaustion on the training deck but instead of the nights he spent in the control room chatting with Allura.

Somewhere in-between the carvings on Keith’s wall, the lines that connect them are almost fluid. They grow and stretch and change, cracks in the ice that threaten to break when Lance tries to cross. Lance isn’t sure where he falls on Keith’s list and he hates that ugly stab of envy that mingles with and sours all the things he loves about Keith.

In the same instant, Keith tenses and the sliver of rage fades to guilt. In a panic, Lance digs his fingers into Keith’s bare waist and pulls him closer. He needs to h old on. For all the doubts, Lance needs to believe that Keith wants him in every sense of the word, and it doesn’t matter why.

When they finally pull apart Keith levels him with a cocksure grin, a hand at Lance’s waist and fingers ghosting over his waist. There’s a glint in his eye, like he just won a game Lance didn’t even realize they were playing. "Yeah?"

“You can…” Lance’s throat is dry, voice cracking and shaking even though he keeps it in a low whisper. “You can do it again.”

Keith kisses his neck this time and Lance shivers, eyes fluttering shut. His mouth starts moving on instinct, “Right there. God. Are we really going to-”

“I’m barely touching you,” Keith admonishes, sneaking his hands beneath the hem of Lance’s shirt. Lance trembles. “Calm down.”

Before he can come back with a scathing retort Keith continues his onslaught, dragging his mouth down Lance’s neck until he reaches the valley of his collarbone, tugging Lance’s shirt up until he gets the message and helps himself squirm out of the fabric.

“So,” Lance starts, awkward. Excited. “Wanna move this to your bed or are we just gonna chill here against the wall?”

Keith stops and glances over his shoulder to the mess of blankets and sheets twisted over his mattress. He looks back to Lance and quirks an eyebrow. “Sure you’re up for this?”

Lance scoffs. “I’ve been up for this for at least the last two minutes.” He grinds his hips against Keith for added emphasis and his skin goes hot in embarrassment, despite being the one to draw attention to it. “Or are you just not familiar with the standard equipment?”

Keith frowns, glaring at Lance as he hooks a finger into a belt loop on Lance’s jeans before yanking him toward the bed. “That’s not what I meant.”

Lance gives him a playful smile as he falls on the mess of blankets, trying - and failing - to pull Keith down with him. “You’re not scared, are you?”

“Nah.” Keith shrugs, grinning back before slipping off his pants - modesty never his forte - to reveal skin-tight gray boxers that do nothing to hide the generous expanse of his body. Pride fills Lance in knowing that his presence did that to Keith, never mind his own erection is straining uncomfortably against his jeans.

When Keith joins him on the bed he half-tackles Lance, kissing him with abandon and searching across his body without hesitation. Their kisses are poorly timed and half the time they miss their target, Lance’s mouth landing on Keith nose or in his hair, teeth knocking together and a tongue sliding down his neck.

This is better than every single fleeting late-night fantasy Lance harbored of stripping Keith down on the training deck and shamelessly fucking him into oblivion, he decides. The moment Keith’s fingertips ghost beneath the waistband of his jeans and brush along the course hair beneath his navel, Lance makes a strangled noise.

"Hanging in there, cargo pilot?"

The insult causes a puzzling reaction, and one that Lance reasons he’ll question for the rest of his living days. Instead igniting self-justified outrage, his dick gives a rude jerk. The next words from Lance’s mouth are frighteningly lacking in both derision and ridicule. He means it. "Eat me.”

Keith smiles - a merciless smile that speaks more of Lance’s impending doom than contentment or satisfaction - and kisses Lance again, even harder than before. Gladly is what Lance hears in the drag of teeth along his neck. The sensation of it all stirs heat in Lance’s stomach, pooling down to his balls. He has no doubt Keith will do exactly as he asks. Keith will devour him.

The subtle mental push is ever-present, disproving any lingering fear that Keith isn’t into him. A strange emotion washes over Lance, like a river’s current and he’s drowning. Keith is all or nothing, never half in and never half out. His touches are as fearless as his kisses and Lance is listening to him now, for maybe the first time.

Each place their bodies touch is lit on fire. Lance loves easily. It falls from him like a waterfall while Keith keeps his sealed tight in a glass bottle. Yet, Lance feels it traced over the contours of hips and the slope of his neck, strung from the tips Keith’s fingers.

Keith needs him. Keith needs him. Keith needs him.

His mind is stuck on that mantra as Keith trails down his chest and dips his tongue into his navel, down further and he yanks down Lance’s jeans. Still rough, still impatient. He strips Lance down to only his boxers, looking more pleased with himself as he sits back to admire his work.

Lance spreads his legs, trusting, and sucks in a breath as Keith closes his mouth over his clothed erection. Keith is focused, intent on Lance’s pleasure, and Lance can’t think of anything but how lucky he is to be on the end of that because when Keith is all in, he’s at a thousand percent.

By the time Keith pulls him free from his underwear, Lance is babbling incoherent nonsense. He spills how much he wants Keith, thinks of Keith, loves Keith, and it all comes out unbidden and raw and true. Drool pools at the corner of Keith’s mouth and Lance can’t help but find it endearing. He gives sloppy blow jobs, good.

It doesn’t matter. They have no secrets.

Unable to restrain himself a second longer, Lance grabs a fistfull of his hair, pulls, and Keith outright moans. The sound is low and melodic as it blends with the slick and wet sounds of his mouth moving up and down. That song rings in Lance’s ears, leaving him torn between pulling Keith up to him, wanting so badly to him again, and simply give in to the divine heat that Keith is wrapped around him.

When he catches Keith shoving his own hand down the waistband of his boxers, Lance decides to act. “C’mere,” he whines, yanking hard enough on Keith’s hair to get his point across. “Wanna touch you.”

With a frustrated huff at being interrupted, Keith complies, sliding up and letting Lance reposition him so he’s on his stomach and Lance is rutting against him. It’s not graceful but it feels good and a rush of excitement surges through Lance when he reaches into Keith’s underwear.

His fingers curl around Keith’s length and he’s somehow surprised at how soft his skin is. He gives a tentative stroke and Keith hisses, hips rolling backward and into Lance’s groin. They’re not going to last much longer.

“I wouldn’t mind if you were inside me,” Keith blurts out. “Really inside me. Just - fuck - being filled with you. I wouldn’t mind.”

A string of curses fall from Lance’s mouth and he quickens the speed of his hand to match the thrusts he pushes against Keith’s backside. He is painfully hard, grinding hard against the fabric of Keith’s boxers. Part of him wants more, needs more than this he doesn’t want to stop what he’s doing.

Keith is loud, unraveled, and Lance is left in quiet awe. He dips his thumb into the tip of Keith’s dick and bites down on his neck as releases into the damp fabric of his underwear.

Keith isn’t far behind, gasping when he comes and Lance strains to see his face, beautiful pink lips falling open in a breathless moan.

They fall down in an awkward tangle on the bed and Lance pulls Keith’s back against his chest while they both struggle to catch their breath.

“We never even got naked,” Lance says, disappointed somehow.

Keith gives a light laugh beside him. “Gotta save some stuff for later.”