Chapter Text
It’s not fair. There’s no reason why Keith has to tag along on this mineral retrieval mission. Lance can be in and out in no time, without anyone. “Easy peasy,” he had even said. But no. Keith has to go with him. Keith and Lance. Still trudging their way through the high coral-colored grass that they’d touched down in about ten minutes ago, their cavernous destination still so far away.
“The air stinks.” It’s Lance who says it, clearly just as annoyed… “This grass is weird as hell, too.” ...and with every passing comment, Keith’s urge to throw himself off the side of the cliff they’re now traversing grows. “Haven’t seen any signs of life in for eeeeeever-”
“Will you shut up?”
It cuts Lance’s complaining off just as expected, but not without the resulting turn-and-scowl combo that’s thrown around so often between the two of them. “Chill, Grumpy Pants. I’m just saying this blows.”
“I know it blows.” Keith’s glaring through the visor of his helmet now, straight ahead. “Everyone knows it blows. I don’t know how anyone couldn’t know how much this blows.”
This really fucking blows.
Lance ignores him completely. “You’d think they could’ve picked a better planet for us to retrieve this…” he stalls for a moment, gesturing unhelpfully in front of himself as he no doubt traces back in his memory.
“Tanzenite crys-”
“Yeah whatever, it’s red and it’s sparkly and Coran needs it to for one of his weird space thingies.” Lance is picking up his pace now, obviously not weighed down in the slightest by the bad karma of interrupting someone while they’re talking.
Keith takes a personal second for a calming breath, which is, ironically, right as none other than Coran’s voice comes in through the comms.
‘You should be nearing the crystal formations. I’m picking up a strong reading a few yards out.’
“Copy that,” Lance answers back, his tone slipping into something much more focused and committed now.
Keith has to say the promise of their mission ending soon does hype him up a little too. The sooner he’s off this godforsaken planet, the sooner he can get back to doing literally anything else. “There it is.”
The cavern’s open mouth greets them silently - a dark stony maw that almost completely hides the faint glow of red from inside.
Almost.
Lance puffs his chest in adventurous vibrato. “We’re go-”
“We’re going in.”
“-oh.” The deflating sound is practically real as he glances over to his teammate, “I...was gonna say that.”
Keith tsks quietly as they breach the darkness, “Then say it first,” their helmets adding to the cavern’s glow.
“I was gonna say it first. You cut me off.”
“Mm. That must suck.”
Lance opens his mouth to argue, but then it must hit him, his hand dropping as he lets Keith pass him. “Mmkay yeah, I see what you did there.”
A gust of wind whooshes through the dark opening, whistling lowly but barely able to be felt through the material of their suits. They follow the tell-tale color until a dim red becomes a vibrant almost-pink. And Keith’s never been so thankful to see a cluster of crystals in his entire life.
“We’re here, Coran,” he says, crouching down to examine where one protrudes from the soft dirt below. “How many do you need again?”
Their adviser's voice comes through as Lance steps into Keith’s peripheral vision, his face tilted upwards as if he’s looking at something high on the cavern’s wall.
‘Two or three should do. The generator does a remarkable job at siphoning excess-’
“Two or three,” Keith nods, “got it.” And huh...come to think of it, maybe he actually interrupts people more than Lance does. Speaking of... “Lance.”
“Huh.”
“What the hell are you doing.” It’s not even a question. Not after all the times in the past he’s had to ask it. But still, given the fact that the boy in question is still staring up at...whatever… “Lance.”
“This flower’s weird.” Is his response. Like that’s a good excuse as to why he’s obsessed with some blue-bulbed flower instead of helping. “Weird, weird.”
“Are you gonna get over here and do your job or what?” The agitation is starting to creep back. Keith can feel it in his bones. And right after he had promised Shiro that he’d try to stop being so pissy all the time. “Lance.”
Jesus fucking Christ.
“Yeah, hang on.”
“Are you serious?”
“What, you can’t dig a couple of crystals out by yourself?”
He swears he doesn’t growl. “You have the pod we’re putting the crystals in, genius.”
“Alright, yeesh…” But he’s not moving. And he’s not helping. In fact, he’s doing the opposite - his hand slowly reaching up to poke his pointer finger into one of the moist blue petals of the flower above him.
It’s not the moisture that bothers Keith.
It’s the fine blue puff of pollen that scatters into the air as a result of it.
Keith glares. He does. He admits it. “Are you for real.”
“What?”
“Just get over here and help me before I do something I regret.”
Lance chuckles without fear, but does as requested - finally. “Oh yeah? Like what?”
“Like-...I dunno,” Keith huffs, pulling probably not as gently as he should be at the nearest crystal, the red mineral just small enough to fit in his hand as he rotates it out of the ground.
Lance scoffs as he crouches nearby. “Whoa, scary-Keith.”
It’s enough of a distraction that they don’t notice the gust of wind that carries the pollen through the air, the particles glistening as they dance toward another cluster of blue wall flowers just like the first one. Keith rolls his eyes, oblivious to the new puffs of pollen that join in the dance one by one - a sort of silent chain reaction that has the air in the cavern glittering in no time.
“Alright. Here’s one.” He hands the crystal over, eyes already fixed on the next one to be extracted. But the help never comes.
“I’m just saying...it’s weird that there’s a plant growing this deep in a cave, right?”
Keith’s grip around the mineral tightens, a single bead of sweat rolling down his forehead. He doesn’t get paid enough for this. Or at all, actually. “I don’t know if you’ve noticed, but we’re on an alien planet. Shit’s weird everywhere. Move on.”
He settles for tossing the crystal onto the ground next to him, his breath somehow fogging the visor of his helmet even though it doesn’t even reach his mouth. It’s the least of his worries with the way the next extraction is currently going downhill very quickly. There’s an edge that must be sticking out underground. That’s the only way it could be giving him so much trouble. And the only way he could be working up a sweat like this. Jesus, is he really getting out of breath just from trying to wiggle something out of the dirt?
The crystal budges and then is pried out with an agitated grunt from Keith. But it’s out. And they just need one more. And then they can get out of this stupid fucking cave and maybe his heartbeat can slow down a little.
He leaves it by the other one, still tossed on the ground by Lance’s leg, and returns for the last. His skin sticks to the inside of his suit but he zeroes in on his prize anyway, even through the sudden burn in his eyes and his gut and his arms...all the way down to his fingertips...which is-...is weird right? It’s…
Keith takes a second.
Sits back on his heels.
Takes his helmet off and uses the back of his hand to wipe away the sticky sweat from his brow.
And it’s just then that he realizes… It’s quiet. Very quiet. Lance hasn’t said anything in a while. And that’s...not like him.
“Hey,” he tries, but his breathing is labored, and it melts his voice into something winded and almost weak as he turns toward him. “Lance-”
But what he sees is not Lance - not really - not like how he normally acts. Because this is Lance sitting, quietly, his gaze hazy and eyelids heavy and lips parted as he stares downward at nothing in particular.
He looks like how Keith feels, and suddenly it’s becoming clear that he wasn’t breaking a sweat from mining minerals.
“H-... Hey...”
“It’s hot…” Lance’s voice is no better - soft but heavy. And when he turns - “S’hot...ya know?” - Keith can see the blush taking over his cheeks.
It does something to his stomach. Knots it up. Twists it all weird and makes the burn turn into a dull ache, “Yeah,” but it still burns. Burning. Burning. “Take your helmet off or something.”
Burning.
Lance reaches up and tugs at his helmet just as suggested, a grunt punctuating the movement as his hair falls back against his head. The helmet crunches down into the soft ground as it lands haphazardly, but Keith’s more stuck on the way Lance lets out a warm huff of a breath - the darkness in his eyes - the bead of sweat that rolls down the side of his face...past his jawline...along the dark skin of his throat…
It’s hard to swallow. Almost impossible. The heat is sticky and wet and Keith doesn’t know why, but he can’t stop looking. Can’t stop staring. Can’t stop watching the bob of Lance’s adam’s apple as he tries to swallow too. It’s intriguing. Vexing. Arousing.
He blinks.
What the fuck?
“Keith…”
Hearing his name should snap him back - should break him out of it - but Lance’s voice is heavy and low and it isn’t long before Keith realizes that the curl in his stomach is more than simple unfounded arousal. Way more. Especially with the way Lance is looking at him now, brows furrowed as he stares with heavy eyelids.
Because fuck. Fuck.
He doesn’t realize he’s slowly edging toward him until their knees bump together, their helmets forgotten on the ground along with the crystals they came here for. They don’t even matter anymore, to be honest. Not even a little bit. No, there’s only thing that matters - one thing that Keith’s stupid fucking brain can focus on.
“Keith-... Something’s-...”
Lance is close now. Very close. So close that it’s easy to see how blown wide his pupils are. To notice the heat coming off of his skin. To feel his breath ghosting against Keith’s mouth as they sit, lips parted and breath heavy between them.
And Keith is screwed. Officially. He can’t even deny how fucked he is - how ridiculously turned on he is. He’s hard and he doesn’t know why.
Lance moves before his brain can process it - fast-quick-solid-weight that hits against him so unexpectedly hard that Keith is falling backwards from it, his head hitting off the ground, but it only hurts a little because he’s much more preoccupied with the mouth moving hungrily against his. It knocks the air out of his lungs and fills his head with a giddy high and goes straight to his pants all at once. All of it. And Keith feels like he might melt or implode at any minute.
“F-...” his hands struggle into the nonexistent space between their chests, trying to push, trying to do something, but the intense heat that’s washing over him muddles his mind - his thought-process - his priorities. And fuck he needs to cum or he’s definitely gonna melt into the planet's surface.
Lance’s mouth moves down to the side of Keith’s neck, the only other skin that’s left exposed by their suits. He mumbles something against him and then bites, his teeth grazing a sensitive spot that pulls out the most embarrassing sound that Keith’s ever made in his entire life. And that’s it. That’s fucking it. Fuck this.
The flip is quick, smooth, and practically flawless, and it leaves Lance confused as Keith settles on top of him. But it doesn’t take away from the redness of his face or the warmth of his heavy breath - not for either of them.
“You’re-”
“Shut up,” Keith huffs, just barely getting it out before crashing their lips back together. And it’s hot and eager but this time it’s better, because this time Keith rolls his hips down, and the friction of it is enough to send them back into orbit.
Lance’s voice comes out in a strangled hitch, his back arching in response before his hips start to join in too. And then it’s all up for grabs - breath fast and heavy - mouths desperate - bodies moving together in an even more desperate grind because the fabric of their suits is thick but they can feel each other if they try - if they really fucking try - if they press together tightly enough and fast enough and holy shit Keith is gonna cum. He’s gonna cum he’s gonna cum he’s gonna-
“-ffFUUCK-”
His eyes squeeze shut so tight that he sees stars - bright white and pulsing and he can just barely hear Lance over the overwhelming thrum of fire igniting in his stomach and his chest and all the way out to his fingertips. It’s a release that flows through his entire body - lights him up and then floods him out and then leaves him there panting. And.
And.
...and…
He just came.
In the paladin suit.
With Lance.
He just came in the paladin suit with Lance.
Keith’s eyes snap open, meeting the ones already looking at him.
He just came in the paladin suit with Lance.
“Ff...fuck...” He doesn’t mean to say it. He really doesn’t. But.
Lance’s eyes are wide. Unsure. Trying not to make direct contact now. “Uh…”
Because what? What? What the fuck?
Leaning back to climb off of Lance is more than a little awkward, made even worse by the very obvious leftover feeling of coming in said suit. And the heat is lingering. Tauntingly. A low, warm buzz through his whole body.
Now free, Lance sits up too, rubbing a hand through his hair. And as much as Keith pretends to fucking hate his jokes, they could definitely use one of them right about now to help cut through the tension. But he doesn’t. He doesn’t say anything. At all. He just lets his hand run all the way back until it’s rubbing at the back of his neck.
And Keith’s heartbeat is going about a thousand beats too fast.
Holy shit.
Holy fucking shit.
‘-in...come in-’
Both heads whip towards where their helmets are still lying forgotten on the ground a few feet away, desperate for a distraction. It presents itself in the tiny, very far-away voice of Coran.
Keith scrambles to pick his up and shove it back onto his head, “Y-...” his voice scratchy until he clears his throat, “Yeah. We’re here, Coran.”
‘Ah! There you are. I was starting to worry. Our feed must’ve been interrupted.’ Coran’s voice is cheerful. Oblivious. It almost helps Keith start to calm down a little bit.
Even if he has to straight up lie about what just happened to save his ass. “Must’ve. Could be the cave.”
“We got your space crystals.” Lance’s helmet is now placed firmly back over his head, and Keith wonders if Coran can hear the difference in his voice as much as he can.
“What he means is I got your space crystals,” he fires back regardless, what just happened between them somehow amazingly not enough to stifle the urge to argue.
Lance frowns, but doesn’t look at him.
It’s weird.
Keith wants to go home.
“On our way back,” he says, and then gathers the crystals from the ground and tries to ignore the way Lance doesn’t say anything as he follows him toward the mouth of the cavern and out into the open air and coral-colored grass.
They walk in silence. Awkward. Thick.
Keith is ready for his heart to stop beating so goddamn fast.
When they reach them, the bay doors of the ship close tightly behind them, the sound echoing off the castle’s metallic walls, and the unbearably uncomfortable silence between them feels like it will never end.
That is, until:
“I’ll uh… I’ll go get these to Coran.” The pod of crystals is lifted out of Keith’s hand as Lance pushes past him. “And fill out the report.”
Keith’s pace slows a bit as he watches the rarity of Lance taking it upon himself to take on the full workload, said teammate walking somewhat briskly in the direction of the control room. “Okay…”
It’s weird. It’s really fucking weird. But he guesses it’s only natural given what just happened in the cave a few minutes ago. Whatever that...was. What the hell was that?
“Keith-”
“What?” A spark of panic shoots through him at the sudden sound of Shiro’s voice, his own much louder with surprised anger than normally acceptable.
It’s obvious that Shiro hears the difference. “Whoa. You alright?”
He takes a breath, “Yeah,” readjusts the collar of his suit. “Yeah, I’m fine. Why wouldn’t I be fine?” Besides the fact that he just had the shit scared out of him and currently has a sticky wetness making its way down towards to soles of his boots.
Shiro looks him over with a discerning eyebrow raise, but then presses forward. “How’d it go out there? Alright?”
“Alright.”
“Good, then we’re gonna start up combat training in 20.”
Keith steadies himself, “Got it. Quick shower then I’ll be there,” and then carries forward towards the shower bay on the far end of the wing without even waiting for a response.
He needs to get out of this suit ASAP.
_-_-_
Everyone’s in the training room when Keith arrives. Well...everyone except for Lance, that is. But somehow, Keith isn’t the least bit surprised nor bothered by it. He personally feels much better now, his shower break saving him both physically and mentally.
Shiro’s halfway through explaining something to Pidge when he sidles up to them, settling onto the ground and transitioning into stretches without a word. The burn in his thighs as he extends them and bends downward is worth noting, and it pushes him to spend a little extra time on it as Shiro and Pidge’s conversation comes to a halt when a new voice joins them.
“Don’t worry, team, I’ve arrived.” It’s Lance, strutting into the room with gesturing hands that demand attention, even if his voice hasn’t quite reached its top-annoyance level. “We can start now.”
“Did you just come straight from the locker room showers?” It’s Hunk who asks it, clearly baffled by the concept of getting clean just to get sweaty again.
“Sure did,” Lance answers, and he’s close enough now that Keith can see the few remaining water droplets still clinging to the tips of his hair. “Google Earth, Hunk. Always taking pictures. I know I've told you this before.”
“I don’t think that meme still applies if we’re a katrillion miles away from Earth…” Pidge points out dryly, but it does nothing to deflate Lance's esteem, who is currently directing his attention elsewhere.
“What, mullet?” And it’s just now that Keith realizes he’s been staring up at him from his spot on the floor. “You gonna take my picture instead?”
Keith answers with an eyeroll, deciding against bringing up the fact that he’s staring because Lance’s mood just did a total fucking 180 and he’s having a difficult time processing it. “Just stretch so you don’t pull something.”
“He does care.”
“Just barely.”
“Alright, we’re gonna work on close combat skills today,” Shiro speaks up, completely ignoring the petty fighting in order to focus on their task at hand. “Nothing crazy - just a little hand-to-hand. We need to be ready in case we’re ever stuck without our bayards.”
Keith lets out a breath as the burn in his thighs acts up again. He needs to get his shit together - needs to move on from bizarre sexual experiences as easily as Lance apparently can.
“Hunk, you pair up with Keith. Pidge - you and Lance. Here’s the combo you can start off with.”
The paladins watch Shiro’s quick demonstration of punch-punch-dodge-upperkick as they shuffle toward their partners, silently committing it to memory.
It’s an easy enough combo. More of a workout than it is training. Hunk’s punches are super solid and blocking them is like blocking a truck, and he isn’t even trying that hard. Keith can tell by the look on his face - his posture. He feels for whoever is on the receiving end of that full power as he stands there and blocks-blocks-punches-dodges.
Pidge and Lance seem to be doing alright over there too, the shorter of the two blocking punches with cupped hands. As much as Keith doesn’t want to admit it, Lance probably doesn’t even need this training, not with the way he already excels at close combat if he just takes the time to focus. He’s always been quick on his feet. Agile. He’s got broad shoulders but they lead down to a thin waist and that’s his secret, Keith realizes now as he half watches/half dodges Hunk’s upperkick. Lance's reaction time is so good because he’s got great flexibility at his waist - in his hips. He can bend and twist and outmaneuver attacks with less effort than probably even Shiro. He’s...well he's just flexible.
The very sudden intimacy of Lance’s eyes locking with his has Keith tripping up - freezing in the act of getting caught staring twice now in a matter of minutes. But judging by the way he's returning the attention, Lance doesn't seem annoyed, or even smug. No, somehow or another, there's a sense of quiet observation there - curiosity, as he holds Keith’s stare for a second longer until-
WHAM
Keith’s head jerks violently to the side. The sudden impact of Hunk’s foot to his jaw catches him entirely off guard, pain blossoming at the point and stars prickling up in his vision for a split second as everything comes crashing to a halt around him.
He missed it. He missed the dodge.
“HOLY-!” Hunk’s frantic voice powers through to the forefront like nothing. “OH MAN ARE YOU OKAY?”
He’s right up in his space in no time, fussing over him as Keith slowly opens and closes his mouth, a hand up to his jaw to check for any telltale clicking of bone. “M’fine...” he mutters through it.
But Hunk isn't convinced. “Lemme go get you an ice pack or something! Holy crap I'm the worst teammate in the world-”
“Hunk." The pain in his jaw is already starting to fade - more of a shock than anything. Now he just has to wait for his pride to heal too. “Stop. It was me - you're fine.” Because seriously. How stupid is Keith? Getting distracted during any sort of training, let alone combat training…
What's worse is he can feel Lance watching him now from across the room, his and Pidge’s rhythm stopping with the rest of them. And Keith knows he must realize this happened because of him - because Keith was looking and getting distracted and ugh…
“Maybe you should take five.” Shiro’s joined Hunk at his side, pulling Keith back into the here and now.
“No.”
“You just took a kick to the hea-”
“I said I’m fine.” Keith can feel his blood boiling. Aggravation. Embarrassment, mostly. “Let's just keep going.”
Shiro's giving him that ‘worried friend/leader’ look but Keith can't find it in his heart to be swayed, his frown remaining firmly in place. It must be obvious enough, because eventually Shiro shrugs in good nature and decides to redirect. “Whatever you say. Why don't we at least switch partners then.”
Hunk nods at his side, visibly relieved, but Keith can already feel the pit in his stomach returning with the orders. A quick peek at Lance shows he’s not the only one.
But… “Fine.” Because he's already made an ass of himself. It's not really like he can protest when he's single-handedly brought training to a screeching halt within a matter of five minutes.
“Okay. Everyone start back up again. And focus.”
The last bit isn’t supposed to be a direct insult but it lands like one, Keith’s shoulders tensing as stretches his jaw and begrudgingly makes his way over to where Lance is standing - all awkward side-glances and arms crossed against his chest.
This is gonna be something.
“Hey.”
“...hey.”
And then they move. No teasing from Lance. No eyerolling from Keith. They just...start.
It’s very stiff. Very awkward. Made even more uncomfortable by the short time between now and their last questionable interaction during the resource retrieval. But Keith has to focus. He can’t think about that right now. Can’t think about how quickly and out of nowhere he had gone from annoyed to flustered - from flustered to aroused - from aroused to desperate. And he especially can’t think about how just as affected Lance was, mouth dropped open under him as they moved so quickly against each other.
Keith clears his throat, his heartbeat far too quick for their half-assed hand-to-hand combat training. Everything’s fine. What’s done is done. They can ignore it and move on like it never happened.
Except.
Lance packs a little more power behind his punch, the pink in his cheeks flushing down to his neck as Keith meets it and grips his fingers around Lance’s fist. It’s technically not the combo - not the drill - so Keith isn’t really all that sure why he does it. But Lance works with it, eyebrows coming together in concentration as he pulls out of the hold and punches again with his other hand.
Keith catches it just as easily. Hears Lance’s breathy grunt. Shakes his head as his brain connects it to the sounds he was making under him in the cave. Because this is not the same. He may be warm and sweating and worked up far more than Pidge and Hunk and Shiro, but this is not the same. There’s no reason for the curl of something unfolding in his gut - for the breath coming from his open mouth to be so heavy - for the ridiculously normal sensation of Lance’s fist in his hand to be setting off points of confusing interest in his body. There’s no fucking reason. But as Lance goes in for the next punch, Keith snaps, catching his fist and using it to twist him around until he’s pinned against him, bent face-down toward the floor and his arm locked between his back and Keith’s chest and Keith freezes because Lance is warm too - way way way too warm - and he can feel Lance’s heavy breaths and smell the shampoo from his damp hair and it’s just too fucking much-
He drops his hold, Lance staggering to keep his balance as Keith backs away quickly. “I’m taking that five,” he hears himself say to maybe Shiro but who knows because he’s already halfway out the door, then halfway down the hall, then halfway to the closest shower bay because he’s hot. So fucking hot. And he can feel the sweat dripping down his back and his chest all the way up until he drowns himself under the coldest shower setting he can manage, eyes squeezed shut and water just barely cutting the heat and he doesn’t realize he’s doing it until it’s already happening - his hand running down his wet stomach and working around his dick because he’s so hard it’s almost painful. He grits his teeth and jerks himself off and tries tries tries not to think about Lance but it’s a losing battle, inhibitions washed away by the shower’s cold spray and the way he collapses in on himself by his third orgasm.
_-_-_
Keith goes missing the rest of the day. By design. He’s tired and grumpy and doesn’t want to deal with space things if it’s not a matter of life or death so...he goes missing. For a while at least.
It’s the cheery series of knocks on his door that shake him from his thoughts, and he’s already completely decided on ignoring it until he hears Hunk’s voice on the other side, just as cheery but laced with a slight guiltiness that Keith expects. And he’s always kinda had a hard time saying no to Hunk anyway, so.
“There he is!” Hunk greets him when his door slides open, a smile on his face and a plate of something doughy and red in his hand. “Hey man, just came to drop this off and see how you were doing.”
Keith inspects the plate of food without moving, his stomach gurgling expectantly. “What is that?”
“Oh it’s...closest I could get to cake with the weird ingredients we have,” Hunk explains, then his smile slips into something more sheepish as he holds it up a little closer. “Kind of a ‘hey sorry for kicking you in the face today’ apology cake, I guess.”
So the slight purple taking over Keith’s jawline hasn’t gone unnoticed. Still - “You didn’t have to do that.” - he’s never been very good at accepting gifts.
“True. But you skipped dinner and I wanted to anyway, so...here.”
The small red cake is thrust further into Keith’s space, and it’s impossible to deny his stomach grumbling when it’s this loud, so he hesitantly takes it from Hunk, noting the look of pleasant relief on his face when he does so. “Thanks…”
“Yep!” Hunk dusts his hands off on his pants and then rubs them together in front of himself as he turns. “And now to go check on Lance. Talk about your fair share of damage control for one day...”
“What?”
Hunk turns, looking back at him from down the hall as Keith sticks his head out the door. “Sorry?”
“You said-...” Keith pauses for a second, surprised by his own interest, but then continues. “You said something’s wrong with Lance.”
“Oh. Yeah he bailed on training a few minutes after you did today.”
He...did? “Oh.”
“Yep.”
“Why?”
“Dunno. That’s why I’m checking on him.”
Keith lets that sink in, gaze dropping as his mind once again sets into motion.
“Enjoy the cake!” Hunk says some nondescript amount of time later.
And Keith just nods, “Yeah…” Hunk disappearing around the corner in his peripheral as he stands there. “Thanks…”
Several days pass.
Several missions are completed.
Several times Keith and Lance are around each other but don’t really interact.
Several times Keith thinks he’s finally free - in the clear - until he’s filling out a report in the empty common area one night, blue light from the holoscreen in his hand illuminating his face when he feels it roll around again...first a dull wave of warmth - vague and hazy and blunted until it swells into something more noticeable, the words of his report fighting for attention against the growing intensity of the heat curling low in his stomach.
He rubs the back of his hand across his forehead and keeps working...ties his hair up in a ponytail and finishes his sentence...does his best to try and pretend it isn’t happening again even though it’s becoming harder and harder to deny it.
But maybe if he just concentrates on his report. Maybe if he just doesn’t fucking give in.
Keith clears his throat as he wipes the sweat from his brow again, squirming in his seat and biting down the bizarre urge to touch himself when the material of his pants brushes over where he’s still trying to deny he’s hard.
He’s fine.
He’s fine he’s fine he’s fine.
He didn't even do anything to start this - isn't even thinking of anything except his report. There’s no reason for it to be happening so therefore it isn’t and he’s fine.
The next wave of heat has his eyes falling shut without his permission, the holoscreen falling out of his hand and landing somewhere on the couch, his report forgotten.
He’s not fine.
There’s something wrong.
Seriously Wrong™.
It happens again, once when they’re done with a supplies stop and once when, honestly, Keith is thinking about the whole cavern thing again. And he wouldn’t be as concerned if it was just a little thing - if it was a normal amount of arousal. But this is not normal. This is not getting a little turned on and needing to take care of yourself in the shower really quick. This is all-encompassing. Desperate. This is Keith finding himself so uncontrollably horny that he’s embarrassed to even be around himself. It’s not normal. And he’s had it up to here.
“So we’re just gonna pretend like what happened never happened?”
Lance looks up at him, his next spoonful of space goo freezing before reaching his mouth.
And...okay, like most situations, Keith could’ve been a lot less aggressive with this - could’ve not cornered Lance in the kitchen during his well known late-night snack. But he’s aggravated and tired of not being in control of his body and it’s just time.
Lance continues to stare, mumbling around his mouthful. “Whatchyou mean?”
It’s almost as irritating as this whole stupid problem. “Seriously?” Because there’s no way Lance could actually get over randomly hooking up with a self-proclaimed rival on an alien planet. Keith takes a breath. Steadies himself. Being an asshole won’t get him anywhere. “Don’t make me say it.”
His change in tone doesn’t go unnoticed, and as Lance swallows his mouthful, his gaze doesn’t quite meet Keith’s. “I-... I mean, I thought you didn’t want to talk about it, so…”
“...’so’?”
“So I wasn’t gonna bring it up.” Lance’s spoon clatters as it drops back into his bowl.
And Keith guesses he realizes how weirdly he’s been acting lately - has definitely given off the vibe that he doesn’t want to talk about what happened. But-
“Have you-...” Lance stops right as he starts, brow furrowing as he searches for the right words and then tries again. “Have you felt, like... different or anything lately?”
It’s said with an amount of sincerity that both catches Keith’s attention and keeps it, a frown making its way across his face. How’d he know? Is Keith that obvious? With the way he acted and then ran off during combat training, he guesses it’d be hard to miss, but… “Why?” ...his pride.
“Have you?”
“Have you?” It’s a defensive tactic, putting it all on Lance even though they’re talking about-
“Yeah, actually.”
Keith’s heart drops, confusion creeping. “Wait-...what?”
The chair’s legs screech against the floor as Lance pushes out from the table, turning from Keith to put his bowl and spoon in the kitchen’s dishwasher. “It’s weird. Forget it.”
“No.” Keith’s moving forward without realizing it, hanging onto Lance’s words like they’ll give him an answer to what’s been happening lately. “Tell me.”
Lance’s body language tightens up for a brief second - a rare moment of discomfort in his own skin - and then he simply laughs it off, shaking his head. “I’m telling you, it’s weird.”
“It’s like the cave, right?”
When Lance turns, his own surprise clear on his face, Keith is very close, prompting even more surprise as he looks down at him. “It’s-...yeah, how did you-”
“Me too.” Keith doesn’t know why he’s reacting this way, why he’s so close or so hooked, practically pinning Lance to the edge of the counter. The promise of answers? The relief of knowing he isn’t the only one? “I’m- it’s happening to me too.”
“Wait, seriously?”
“Yes.”
Keith is close enough to see the process of what’s being discussed register through Lance’s brain, his eyes narrowing and then widening and then settling into something mostly in between. “So that day Hunk kicked the shit out of you…?"
“Yes.”
“And after the supplies stop-”
“Yes.”
“And-”
“Yes, Lance.”
A whole bunch of epiphanies must be going off in Lance’s head. He leans back against the counter before looking back down at Keith, and there’s no hiding the redness starting to creep into his cheeks. “So what you’re telling me...is you’ve been just as stupidly horny as I was all those times?”
The outright bluntness of how he says it hits Keith, and suddenly he realizes just how closely he’s standing. He backs up as calmly as possible in an attempt to give off the impression that he’s not as flustered as he actually is, not sure if he does a good enough job. “It’s connected somehow."
“That’s...the weirdest shit I’ve ever heard.”
“Well it’s happening.”
Lance’s chuckle is ironic. “It sure is.”
The space between them continues to grow as Keith moves farther away to satisfy his need for calmness. This is definitely weird. Definitely definitely. And...now what...exactly?
“Wow, I don’t think I’ve ever actually seen you blush before.”
Keith bristles at the comment, their relationship returning right back to its normal state of things just like that. “Shut up,” he huffs, unable to deny the heat in his face as he backs up clear out of the kitchen.
_-_-_
It’s nearly midnight Earth-time when Keith gets back to his room, but that doesn’t stop him from staring up at the dark ceiling for hours as his brain spins in every direction imaginable.
So...he’s not alone in this. Lance has had something Seriously Wrong™ with him all this time too. Keith doesn’t know if that knowledge helps him or make this worse. On one hand, he guesses it’s kind of nice to know he isn’t the only one suffering. On the other hand, the last thing he needs is to be flooded with the related thoughts of Lance suffering - the images.
For every time Keith is drenched in sweat, fighting back the need to give in, Lance is somewhere doing the same thing, or even worse...holed up so he can take care of himself.
For every time Keith is jerking off, two-or-three-fingers-deep in his ass, Lance is somewhere realizing that whatever is Seriously Wrong™ with them is also thoughtful enough to activate their weirdly slick wetness of self-lubrication. (That had thrown Keith for a fucking loop the first time he felt it, let that be known.)
And now, three hours after their discussion on simultaneous arousal, Keith is stuck staring up at the ceiling, unable to fight down the buzz of liquid warmth blossoming in his chest and between his legs. Because that means it’s happening to Lance too, wherever he is - probably his room. Is he touching himself? Is he already done? Is he thinking about the fact that Keith is like this too, or is it just Keith who’s fucked up enough to wonder?
Keith groans, pressing the heels of his hands against his eyelids. His bed sheets are too much for how sensitive his skin is right now so he kicks them off, his bed creaking in the process. And all he wants to do is touch himself. Which is fine, right? It’s not like there’s some unwritten rule now saying that just because Lance knows, he can’t touch himself, right?
Keith lets out a heavy, heated sigh, dragging a hand from his face all the way down his chest...his stomach...beneath the waistband of his briefs until he can softly palm himself.
He hisses an inhale, the touch barely there but still enough to pull a reaction. And he’s ready to do it again when there’s the distinct sound of knocking on his door.
Keith freezes, eyes opening and hand still down the front of his briefs.
What the fuck…
Another knock.
How...
Another, and then, whispered: “Keith…”
Something in his mind knows it couldn’t be anyone other than Lance, but it doesn’t make his dick twitch in his hand any less.
“Keith...I know you’re up.”
Fuck. What does he do?
The bed creaks under him again as Keith sits up, torn between pretending he can’t hear Lance and actually opening the door. Seconds tick by, Keith’s brain hazy with the lust that's already there, and the rest that comes with the thoughts swirling unhelpfully.
The sound of a body leaning up against the metal of the door has Keith moving, bypassing his shirt on the floor in order to unlock and slide open his door just a crack. The weight against it lightens, Lance obviously picking himself up from it as it moves, and then turning to face Keith once it’s wide open.
Keith’s heart stutters in his chest at the sight of him in the low light, his shirt wrinkled and eyes dark and lips parted as he runs a hand through his hair when he sees Keith.
“Ohhh fuck…” Lance mutters weakly, clearly trying to steady himself as his eyes trail down Keith’s bare chest - his messy hair - the very very obvious hard-on tenting the front of his briefs.
And if Keith thought he was warm before, his whole entire body is on fucking fire now.
He grabs Lance by the front of his shirt and pulls him into his room before anyone can see, closing the door behind him and then letting him slump there as he tries to calm the waves of heat rolling through him.
“What?” he says, although the breathlessness of his voice takes most of the edge off.
Lance peers down at him through heavy eyelids, hands fisting in self control at his sides. “I was-…” And his voice is deep - very deep - the kind of deep that only creeps around when someone’s trying to stop themselves from making a bad decision.
Keith knows the feeling, fingers itching to touch what is already so close. “You were what…?”
“Checking if...you were messing with me…” his voice peters out at the end as he slowly looks Keith up and down again, “...or...if we were the same.”
“I think it’s pretty obvious…”
Because they’re both here. They’re both here and they’re both at their limit and Keith knows what he wants to happen - doesn’t know if he would necessarily condone it under other circumstances but these are not other circumstances. This is Lance here, swallowing roughly and hands still fists but weakening very much like his resolve - like Keith’s resolve. And Lance isn’t saying anything, so Keith accepts that he takes a step forward on autopilot, chests nearly touching.
He flinches as Lance reaches up, his pointer finger brushing over the bruising still lingering on jawline. One finger, then another, and it stings but Keith finds himself leaning into it regardless, touch-starved enough that he’ll deal with the pain.
“We sh-” He doesn’t know who moves in first, but the space evaporates between them with hot breath and slick lips, and it doesn’t really matter who does it because Lance’s mouth is moving against his, needy and sloppy and just like the last time.
And suddenly Keith feels like he’s right back in the cave, the glowing red crystals replaced by the dull blue glow of the holoscreen on his desk. But Lance is the same. Keith is the same. The heat pooling and desire building upon itself and desperate desperate need to touch is the same. Only this time they can touch it and feel, no thick material of their paladin suits in their way. Which means Keith can feel it when Lance runs his hands down his bare back and then lets them rest on his ass, pulling him flush against himself and then up a bit as he squeezes.
Keith’s grip on Lance’s shirt tightens - dangerous - already so dangerous. They shouldn’t be doing this. It had happened once and it was an outlying happenstance but this. This is not. Lance palming his ass through his boxers and Keith backing them up to the side of his bed is not coincidental. He knows he’s doing it. Knows his knees are going to give out soon. Knows that there’s no fucking way he can make it with the way Lance crawls on top of him as his back hits the mattress, face flushed.
Keith pulls at Lance’s shirt, sitting up with him as they work together to get it up over his shoulders. It lands somewhere by the foot of the bed and Keith barely gets enough time to appreciate his work before Lance’s got a hand on his chest and is pushing, Keith’s back hitting the mattress for the second time. But it’s hot. Lance is hot. And Lance being rough is unexpectedly but insanely hot.
“Jesus…” Keith breathes out in a heated combination of that and how their bodies slot together to get a sinfully tight friction working between them. It’s better than shamefully jerking off by himself. So much fucking better.
“Yeah it is,” Lance mumbles into the side of his neck, and that’s when Keith realizes he said that last part out loud.
The heat’s clearly getting to him. The heavy grinding. Fuck, is it getting to him. It blurs things around him until all he can focus on is the thick arousal swirling in his stomach and between his legs - the sweat glistening across Lance’s dark skin - the wetness starting to get uncomfortable where Lance had grabbed his ass what could’ve been minutes or hours ago. And he needs. He needs like he never has before.
Keith pitches forward until he’s coming down on top of Lance, confused but not complaining when he realizes their pants are gone. The grunt of frustration that Lance lets out is quickly added to the list of things that Keith is surprised he finds attractive, but soon forgotten under the feeling of fingers gripping at his ass again, then something sliding slickly between his cheeks.
Keith’s head drops forward, his forehead slipping against Lance’s chest but coming to rest there anyway as the realization hits him. Is he-...is Lance gonna fuck him?
He moves his hips in time with him encouragingly, the head of Lance’s dick sliding past his hole too many times to count before the frustration sets in, Keith digging his fingers into whatever skin he can get.
“Lance.”
“Can-...I put it in-”
“Yeah-”
“It’s okay?”
Keith groans - “Just fucking do it.” - stretching be damned, because it's been several days since the cavern but he’s burning like he’s needed this for much longer. And he knows Lance must be too, so when he finally feels it, the head of Lance's cock pressing against him and then sliding inside him with the help of the slickness already there, every muscle in Keith’s entire body tenses like he’s being shocked from the toes up.
But then Lance starts moving. And then it’s more haze. More sticky wetness and pleasure points detonating in different parts of Keith’s body and fuck he can’t tell up from down - can’t tell where his hands are going or where Lance’s hands are going and it’s like the room is flipping out from under him when he feels the mattress against his back again, Lance pressing against him and fucking into him and it almost feels like he’s that dangerous step away from being blackout drunk, Lance’s name on his lips and the heat in his gut pooling and swirling and then he’s grabbing whatever he can - holding onto whatever he can get his hands on, his back arching and Lance’s voice sliding into his brain as they both cum and-
And-
...and…
It’s dark when his eyes open.
As dark as it was before.
But the bed sheets are over him and the heat is missing and he sits up a little too fast to find that Lance is gone.
The clock on his nightstand reads 4:52 Earth-time.
He had passed out.
And Lance is gone.