“I want to lick his abs. I want to bite his shoulders. I want to devour his bones —”
“You’re a freak,” said Hunk absentmindedly, with the grace of someone who had heard this type of shit on a regular basis.
“Can’t you just say you’re horny for him like a normal person?” Pidge added, equally as unbothered.
“No, neither of you understand,” Lance insisted. “I don’t just want to sleep with him or whatever. I want to, like, absorb him. Like an angler fish.”
Pidge and Hunk side-eyed each other, then looked back at their project, shaking their heads. They had been hearing this shit for days. Ever since Keith came from the weirdo space whale time dilation mission with seven extra inches of height and a helluva lot of new muscle mass, Lance no longer had the decency to keep his thirst to himself. Not that he really did that before, but still. Damn.
Before, he said semi-normal horny things. Each one of the following conversations is an entirely honest, completely verbatim transcript of the pain Pidge and Hunk have endured:
“Ugh, he’s so annoying. I can’t believe I’m going to suck his dick.”
“I mean, you don’t have to do that. That’s an option. You could not do that.”
“Fuck, do you think he knows he looks hot when he yells at me? I want him to give me fifteen new insecurities.”
“You have psychiatric problems. I’ve never heard anyone this down bad before.”
“No, no, this is normal. I’m just a bottom.”
“God, I could watch him train for years.”
“I think it’s a worse sin to use the Lord’s name in vain when you’re melting into a puddle of lusty goo.”
But now that Keith could benchpress Lance with ease and practically towered above him, Lance was downright lascivious. The other day, Lance had been getting on Keith’s last nerve (as he is wont to do), but Keith decided to growl at him instead of yelling, and Lance honest-to-God squeaked. Like a mouse. It was humiliating for everyone involved. Honestly, if they thought it would solve their problems, Hunk and Pidge would have locked the two in a closet and let them knock out the tension the day Keith came back from the mission. Unfortunately, both of them are relatively certain that as painful as this sexually tense bullshit is, it would be five million times worse if they actually started sleeping together. Then, Lance might start telling them about it. In detail.
Yeah, no. They’re just gonna let Lance blueball himself until he cracks, or Keith does, and then Pidge is going to invent earbuds that filter out any possible noise so neither of them has to hear this shit ever again. For now, the two of them will be content with recording this to humiliate Lance when he’s a properly mature adult who pays taxes and shit. No meddling necessary.
“Shiro. Shiro. Shiro. Are you listening. Shiro.”
“Fuck, Keith, what. What do you want.”
“Shiro I want to crack him open and scramble him like an egg.”
“… You know, back in my day, when we found someone attractive we said, ‘shit, they’re hot. I want to sleep with them.’ Why is your generation so weird?”