wrote this a few months ago at like 11pm. just a drabble abt kl in a bathtub =)
brief nsfw ment!
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keith lifts his fingers out of the water, watching the droplets fall from the tips of them, making tiny splashes amidst the suds and bubbles of the bathtub. the water's still hot—keith’s aching body finds welcome release being succumbed in it, and he can feel his muscles unwinding and relaxing as he just sits there.
the porcelain shimmers in the sunlight reflecting the water. this isn’t keith’s bathtub; it’s shiro and adam’s, keith is just house-sitting for them while they’re away on some trip. he’s already doing it for free, so he figures allowing him access to their appliances and comforts is the least they could do. not that they know he’s in here, but…
a noise jerks keith out of his reverie, disturbing only slightly the quiet waves of the bath water. keith looks up just in time to see lance close the door gently behind him, clutching a blue robe to his body as he turns to give keith a sheepish smile.
ah, right. shiro and adam don’t know lance is here, either. details, details.
“hi,” lance says quietly, approaching the bathtub keith is already submerged in with slow footsteps. “how’s the water?”
“it’s good.” keith flaps a hand lightly against the water to punctuate his words. “really warm.”
“not too warm, i hope?” lance jokes, but his hands flutter to the strings of his robe, pulling them apart nervously.
keith swallows as the robe falls and he’s met with all of lance. gorgeous, he thinks with a pang, unable to keep his eyes from raking across his figure, tanned skin and sparse hair and lean muscles. tellingly, keith’s gaze only flicks briefly below lance’s hips before tripping away, staying long enough to register only that, yeah, lance is still gorgeous literally everywhere.
they’ve had sex before. keith shouldn’t be so embarrassed, but this is all still new to him, and he’s not really seen lance’s dick when it’s not flushed and hard and leaking pre-come. the context makes it more intimate, and that’s a much harder thing to face.
“i’m gonna come in, now,” lance murmurs, and upon keith’s quick nod of approval, he lifts a foot and sets it delicately into the bathtub, the water rolling out around him.
keith moves a little to make room as lance situates himself fully, facing keith from the opposite side of the tub. it really is a big tub.
bubbles swirl around them, and they’re silent.
“does it feel nice?” keith asks, suddenly feeling that his voice is about a thousand times louder than it should be. lance’s answering laugh, however, comfortingly matches his volume.
“really nice,” he replies. his cheeks are flushed, either from the heat or something else, which accentuates his freckles. keith wants to kiss him. keith has never been one to deny what he wants.
“hey,” he starts, stealing himself, “d’you mind if i…come over…?”
lance blinks rapidly. “over where? over here?” keith nods. “o-oh. uh, yeah, yeah, sure, get over here.”
consent given, keith slowly moves his body towards lance, realizing almost immediately that he can’t exactly accomplish this by staying in the same position he’s in right now. so, he turns around, facing the same way as lance, and scoots backward, eyes trained on the water lapping against his skin in a futile attempt to ward the feverish blush he knows is creeping on his face away.
there’s a tiny gasp from lance, and then suddenly, keith feels arms encircling him, pulling him backward. he lets them, which is something to treasure in itself, and is guided carefully into lance’s lap. lance’s dick rests underneath keith’s ass, a smooth length there to remind him of what’s going on.
keith settles, though, half-sitting on lance’s thighs as he rearranges himself and, in turn, gets rearranged. when they’re finally in a comfortable enough position, lance buries his face into keith’s neck and exhales softly, breathing warmth to the area. in the bathtub, everything around keith feels pretty much the same—wet—but he can still tell the curve of lance’s body apart from the heat of the water, can still sense the press of their bodies together whenever he moves even slightly. it’s a lot, and keith lowers his head, blushing a deep, attractive crimson, encircled by lance and the smooth warmth of the bathtub.
yeah. yeah.
this is nice.
before, keith would have trouble admitting that to himself, or even feeling it at all. before, he would see this as dangerous, exposing something vulnerable to a potential predator, being stupid to do so. but now, here, with lance, it doesn’t feel like that at all.
it feels relaxing.
it feels comforting.
it feels like trust.
“hey,” keith says suddenly, breaking the flustered, heated silence. he just remembered something. lance lifts his head slightly to show he’s listening. “i came over here because i wanted to kiss you,” keith explains, tone candid. “can i do that? i want to kiss your freckles.”
lance stays still for a moment, just gazing down at keith’s skin, and then his shoulders begin to shake with a chuckle.
“of course, cheeseball,” he says, finally facing keith fully with a grin. “we’re boyfriends, aren’t we?”
keith’s body swells with joy. “yeah, we are. c’mere.”
lance presents keith with his face and winks, which of course makes keith roll his eyes, but he leans forward and kisses across lance’s cheeks and nose nonetheless, tracing the freckles with his lips. when he’s finished, lance looks even more flustered, and keith feels like he’s won something.
“shut up,” lance mutters, tugging keith back into their former position. “thought i was here for bathtub sex, not emo keith.”
“you like cheesy shit,” keith hums.
“yeah, well, you gotta warn a guy first!”
keith laughs at that, a sweet, melodic sound, and gets splashed in return. they really should get their own bathtub soon, because this is definitely one of keith’s new favorite pastimes.
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Keith daydreaming about Lance’s dick while humping a pillow 🤤🤤🤤🤤🤤🤤🤤🤤
i got carried away lmao (smut below)
keith sighs, his hand gliding between the sheets of his bed to rest along his thigh and then dip lower. it’s with no small amount of irritation that he finds himself in this position—he’s been so damn frustrated lately, his body buzzing with arrhythmic adrenaline, a coil wound tight within him that he needs to release.
keith hates it when his body gets this way. it feels almost like a betrayal of biology—like, he can be half-alien, he can wield a knife and do all kinds of cool acrobatics when fighting, but he fails to get off for just one week and everything goes to shit? it’s irritating. he’s not a teenager anymore; shouldn’t this be a thing of the past?
well, if keith’s hand slipping under the waistband of his underwear is any indication, no, no it should not. the underwear is tight to keith’s thighs, making it difficult for him to properly situate his hand down there, so he gives a huff of frustration before withdrawing and shoving it down entirely. fine, he’ll be that much more desperate.
a single brush of his fingers against the tip of his dick sends jolts of intense arousal throughout keith’s body. yeah, definitely desperate.
he grasps himself fully and begins to stroke, his body responding embarrassingly quickly to every movement. what should he think about? usually keith tries to keep things impersonal—shadowy blob number one giving him a blowjob is usually a safe bet, or, if he’s feeling bold, shadowy blob number two taking him from behind—but he gets the sense that that isn’t going to cut it this time. his body is too needy, too aching to be touched, to be satisfied by the impermanent breeze of wind that usually occupies keith’s fantasies.
if that’s the case, keith really only has one choice, doesn’t he? only one boy has caught his attention—and, conveniently enough, keith also just caught a glimpse of that boy’s naked body not too long ago.
it was a complete accident, of course. a long day in the training room had left keith fatigued, in pain, and horrifically sweaty—just the type of circumstances well-suited to a hot shower. he’d entered the shower rooms on the castleship without thinking, clutching a robe across his body and a towel in his hand, and walked right into the sight of lance stepping out of one of the stalls, hand outstretched to grab his own towel.
keith had froze, completely and utterly, because, holy shit, there lance was and, even more importantly, there was lance’s body. smooth, dripping planes of brown skin accentuated by pointed limbs and smatterings of freckles that keith could make out even amidst the water and soap. his frame was rather straight and near to being toned, which was a sight to behold in itself, but what really caught keith’s attention was the dip in lance’s hips leading straight to his pelvis, and then lower.
yeah. keith would realize that day that, not only did lance have a fantastic dick, an absolute beauty of smooth, uncut contours, but he was also hung as fuck too. had to be at least five inches, and he wasn’t even hard yet.
color rushed to keith’s cheeks and he instantly turned around and left, speed-walking as fast as he could away from the showers without looking conspicuous.
that experience has been on keith’s mind ever since, a brand new form of torture that he now gets to undergo for daring to have a crush. and he thought lance was the perfect package before. jesus.
all of this flashes through keith’s mind in seconds, but he pauses the memory at the sight of lance’s naked body, zooms in on his cock. and, well, that’s not a shadowy figure, is it? no, keith thinks as his strokes quicken, pulling the foreskin down smoothly. lance is very solid and very real.
god, that dick. what would it taste like? keith thinks about weighing it on his tongue, about sucking on the head and seeing how far he can get it down his throat when it’s fully hard. he thinks about it swelling in size, growing too big to be contained within the covering of the foreskin. he thinks of licking pearls of precum off of the head before sliding his tongue down the base, all the while keeping his eyes trained on the boy the dick belongs to, who is hopefully blushing and unable to look away.
keith presses his face into his pillow, a wave of heat crashing over him. he spreads his legs further, abandoning any pretense that he’s doing anything but masturbating right now. nobody’s coming in here, anyway; they all think he’s napping. keith thumbs between the slit of his dick, breathing ragged. he’s half-hard just from imagining sucking lance’s dick for a few minutes—how far gone must he be?
lance probably tastes good. he must surely eat a lot of pineapples since he loves the beach so much, right? those are supposed to help. and anyway, there’s nothing lance could do to not taste good. everything about him, no matter what, would be good. he imagines lance moaning loudly, maybe saying keith’s name, and grabbing his hair as he fucks into keith’s mouth—not too hard, lance isn’t that type of guy, definitely not that type of lover. but enough so that keith can feel his dick hitting the back of his throat again and again, enough so that when lance comes he can swallow around him in big gulps and emerge with a wet, messy face.
(in reality, keith knows he can’t swallow. but he wants to make lance feel good in his fantasies.)
keith, the real keith, groans softly, feeling his body respond to his mind’s eye. he rubs the precum on the tip across the length of his dick and strokes faster, the friction easier to handle with that lubricant. what if he got fucked by lance? would he be able to take all of him? hopefully he would. the thought is irresistible—himself, on his stomach, ass in the air bouncing as lance fucks into him over and over, splitting him open and making him feel so, so good.
lance would probably talk the whole time, complimenting keith, narrating how he’s feeling, and keith would drink in every word and sound even above his own moaning because he loves to hear lance’s voice, and he would especially love to hear it cracked and marred with arousal. in keith’s fantasy, he takes lance up to the hilt, lance’s cock filling him as he’s pressed into the mattress. and then, maybe, lance would say something about wanting to see keith’s face, or keith would realize that he needs to kiss lance while he comes, and they flip over so that keith is on top, riding lance as fast and hard as he can.
a broken moan escapes keith’s lips, and he feels around blindly for his other pillow; he snatches it and shoves it between his legs, straddling it, imagining that it is lance’s cock pressing against his ass, that it’s lance’s body he’s got his legs on either side of. keith would sink down onto lance’s cock with ease, feel it sliding into him, and then he’d move back and forth with fluidity, hands roaming along lance’s chest all the while. lance’s hands would hold onto keith’s hips, controlling his movements, and he’d bounce with fervor, chasing the high of orgasm.
keith humps his pillow mindlessly, too far gone on thoughts of lance’s dick filling him up to care or be embarrassed. the friction of the fabric is a welcome difference to keith’s hand, and he thrusts into it with relish, thinking of lance wrapping a hand around his dick while keith bounces on top of him, trying to get them to climax together. keith would feel so full sleeping with lance, so cared for, and it would feel fucking fantastic to have sex with someone he’s so goddamn into, someone he’s wanted to kiss and fuck and take out to dinner for months now. lance, keith thinks, his mind swirling in a jumbled mess of lips and lance’s soapy cock pushing inside of him. lance, lance, lance—!!
keith comes with a barely-muffled cry, spilling all over the pillow he’d been humping onto. the orgasm nearly knocks him back with its strength, and he rides it out as best he can, his entire body shaking as he hits peak sensitivity in his dick and then slowly retracts, the intensity ebbing away even as keith keeps thrusting weakly.
when he’s finished, he collapses backward onto his bed, unfolding his legs from around the newly-wet pillow.
his entire body sinks into the mattress as if it’s breathing a sigh of relief. the buzzing feeling is no more, replaced with the welcome weight of calm and relaxation, making keith’s limbs and eyes feel heavy.
well. that was, apparently, just what he needed. maybe not the…lance part, though.
fuck, keith thinks tiredly, draping a hand across his flushed face. this crush is going to be ten times more unbearable now that keith’s given in and fantasized about sex with him, isn’t it? great. this is just great. as if lance needed another boost to his ego.
there’s no point in feeling frustrated with himself, though. he can’t deny that he’s feeling better, and though cleaning the pillow will be mortifying, it’s just one thing. if that and increased emotional turmoil is the price for one of the most satisfying releases keith has had in a long time, then, well, he can’t say he won’t take it.
he can’t change anything now, anyway. lance is hot as fuck. keith knew that before he’d seen him naked. now he just…has more material to work with.
(reducing the wonder that is lance’s cock to “material” feels a little facetious to keith, but maybe that’s just the post-orgasm lust talking.)
keith sighs and rolls off of the bed, grabbing his underwear as he does. time to clean up.
it remains to be seen whether keith will be able to properly face lance after this experience, though.
…maybe he should hit the training deck. after all, lance and his gorgeous cock are never there, anyway.
Keith has never really felt like he was "broken." Damaged, maybe. Defective, probably. But broken? Never. "Broken" implies permanence at worst, a need to be fixed at best. What do you do with a broken controller, a broken plate? Throw it away. Send it in for repairs. If it comes back at all, it's never the same.
That's not what Keith is.
Throughout his intense, unpredictable, fucking crazy life, he has never broken, never wavered in what he needs to do to survive. He has held himself in tact by the edges of his teeth, he's done too much to be written off as broken, much less by himself. Maybe at 13, when all Keith had for solace was music and a fucked up knife, he would've called himself broken. But not now. Now, he's a Paladin of Voltron, a Defender of the Universe, the Best Pilot of Our Generation. He's somebody. He has too many people relying on him to be broken.
He'll never be someone that calls himself that. Let the Iversons of the world take that job. But Keith? Damaged, defective, dropout Keith? He'll pass.
If he's broken, then that's it. End of story. And he cannot let that happen.
okok it said i could do a headcanon for these and i actually have one for this!! i've mentioned it before in passing but i just think that keith really, really needs to hear lance's heartbeat for himself from time to time. lance literally died, and keith wasn't even around for that, and he hates himself for it every day and sometimes he gets all caught up in his head about whether or not lance is okay and makes himself sick with worry. and in those times he just seeks lance out and presses his ear to lance's chest, searching for a heartbeat. at first lance gets really awkward about this and he spends the whole time looking around and being like "aha, what? what are you doing? keith--" but when he finally understands what's going on he kind of just. allows keith to do what he needs to. sometimes keith forgets where the heart is located, so lance will orient him to the correct area, tilting keith's head or his own body slightly to do so. and keith will just listen to lance's heart for a while. just to make sure it's still beating, that lance is actually still alive, that the healing pods didnt just replace him with a clone or give him back a zombie.
but lance's heart beats, every time. and keith finds himself timing his breaths to that heart, inhale ba-dump exhale ba-dump. and lance finds himself letting keith stay like that longer and longer, finds himself holding him close, finds himself checking if his own heart is beating, too. and it is. every time. and in their circumstances, that has to be enough
Keith snickers, hoisting himself onto Lance's lap, hands settling comfortably on his shoulders. He sticks out his tongue in retaliation for Lance's failed attempt at tickling him.
"My reflexes are faster," he points out, eyebrows raised, an easy smile flowing across his face. Lance huffs, but his arms still circle around Keith's middle, pulling him closer.
"I wasn't even trying, shut up, mullet," Lance grumbles. He noses his way into Keith's neck, giving Keith goosebumps. "You don't know anything."
Keith hums, not bothering to give Lance more of a response. The insult lacks bite, especially when it's being paired with the feather-light touch of Lance's nose on his skin, of the soft lips he can feel smiling against his throat. He inhales deeply, smells pine and the ocean and clean laundry. How does Lance always smell so good? Keith would ask his secret, but he doesn't actually want to know. He's content to chalk it up to Lance-magic, content to just have it as a perk to being Lance McClain's boyfriend.
Boyfriend. Yeah, that's what they are. A little thrill of happiness flickers along Keith's spine. Lance is my boyfriend!
The moment Lance lifts his head away from Keith's neck, Keith surges forward, that wonderful thought in mind, and presses their lips together. The kiss is clumsy, because they're both smiling so broadly, and Lance lets out a tiny, surprised chuckle before properly kissing Keith back.
Lance squeezes Keith's middle tightly as they kiss, and it makes Keith feel like something precious, something wanted and cared for and loved. That small action is enough to inspire these feelings.
Keith is so gone for this boy.
They break apart, still wearing dopey, big smiles. Lance's cheeks are hued an adorable red.
He laughs and raises a hand, fanning himself. "What was that for?" he asks, his tone bright and pleased.
Keith shrugs and buries his face into the crook of Lance's neck. "No reason. I just like you. Kind of."
He feels Lance's shoulders shake with laughter.
"I kind of like you too, samurai," Lance responds, voice musical and full of affection.
Will Keith every get used to this? He inhales Lance's magical scent again, and thinks that even if he does, that won't make it any less special. That won't make it any less lovely.
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Call Lance stupid, but he still has a thing for wishing on stars.
Yes, he knows the science behind stars now--knows that they're giant balls of gas and light, too far away to be touched on Earth, too foreign to even try in space. During his Voltron Vacation (that's what he's taken to calling it in his head--it soothes the weight of responsibility, somewhat), they mostly stick to planets, and it seems like even Allura and Coran are unsure what to do with stars, don't know what their role is in the cosmos they know. Pidge wants to figure all that out, but Lance? Lance is okay with just seeing magical sparkles lighting up a dark sky, ready to grant even his most embarrassing, mundane wishes.
Lately, his wish has been the same. I want to go home. He stares at the night sky for hours, unable to sleep, too weighed down by anxiety, and thinks at every star he sees, I want to go home. Please, let me go home.
Somehow, making these wishes make Lance feel better, even though he knows in his heart that it won't actually change anything. It feels like he's submitting a request, though, a request that the galaxy can approve or disapprove. If he just keeps resubmitting it, they have to relent eventually, right? They have to let him have his wish. They have to grant it.
The stars are rooting for him, he thinks. They always have. His wishing stars of gas and light and heat and strangeness.
