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What You Make Me Do

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The first time is an accident.

Maybe that isn’t the right choice of word. Maybe ‘unplanned’ would be better.

In any case, Lance blames Coran for not giving them enough warning or, come to think of it, letting a bunch of underage kids drink nunvill in the first place. It’s made worse by the fact that their human physicality can’t handle it the same as an Altean can.

So, the first night they spend drinking it together has Lance feeling mostly proud, but a teeny bit disappointed that he has handled his alien booze better than Keith because he expected him to last a little bit longer than the rest, but as it is, he only has a few glasses and Keith looks wasted.

Shiro pushes Keith’s glass safely out of the way and is about to pick him up to put him to bed when Lance interrupts him, feeling sorry that he’s always having to play the big brother role with Keith, and he thinks that he deserves to have one night where he can relax and enjoy everyone’s company without feeling like he’s responsible for all of the red paladin’s bad choices.

Lance places a gentle hand on Shiro’s shoulder, “S’ok, I got’em,”

“You sure?” Shiro replies, giving him an evaluating once-over, assessing his capability for the task.

“Pfft! There’s nothin’ to the dude!” Lance taunts, “I could pro’lly carry his skinny ass with one hand!”

“Hey!” Keith objects, eyes closed but lifting his head in their direction, “‘Mnot skinny, ahm lean,” his fingers fumble the bottom of his t-shirt and yanks it up to his chin, “see?”

Lance sees alright. Sees it good. Lance has sought out every opportunity that’s ever been put in front of him to get himself a look of those abs. An open invitation, though? It makes his mouth a little dry, but he’s still self-aware enough at this point to keep his reaction schooled. The last thing he needs is the team suspecting how much he fantasizes about him and that body of his doing things together when he’s alone in his room at night.

“Keith!” Shiro says like he’s had to deal with his shit one too many times. Keith’s eyes open marginally, glaring at Shiro like a high schooler.

“Right then, Mr. Universe,” Lance takes his arms and pulls him to standing, feeling his dead weight and hoping they can make it out of the room without making an ass of himself.

Keith’s heavy lids fall shut and his head lolls to the side of Lance’s, cheek smooshed on his shoulder as he snorts a laugh, “Hmmm, betcha’d like to see me in my Speedos,” he says quietly in his ear.

Lance almost drops him but makes a swift recovery.

Was that a joke or a flirt? Had Keith picked up on Lance’s appetency for his body? Definitely not, he decides. He’s been careful to keep his letching subtle, he was a total master of his poker face.

He’s wearing it now while he blanks Keith’s comment and wipes the image threatening to slide into his thoughts. He bends forward and tips his teammate’s drunken weight over his shoulder.

Keith protests but doesn’t fight it. He grumbles as Shiro pats the back of his thigh and wishes him a good night’s sleep and the rest of the team call out their good-nights to both of them with giggles and added sentiments that are lost to Lance’s ears as he leaves the room and heads along the corridor to their sleeping quarters.

It’s a long walk. Lance may not be blind drunk, but he’s had enough to lower his inhibitions and let unsolicited thoughts start to seep into mind.

He’s now hyper-aware of the thin wrist in one hand that his fingers circle so easily, and the muscles and tendons beneath the other.

“Keith?” he calls, but there’s no response. He’s out cold.

Lance stops for a moment to shift his weight and better his grip, a grip that accidentally has his hand now squeezing Keith’s inner thigh.

Not accidentally, his conscience tells him, ‘unplanned’.

When he gets to Keith’s room he grunts in relief as he drops Keith’s unconscious body on the bed and ends up rolling onto his back next to him. Lance stretches above his head to relieve the ache in his arms and back, then turns his head to look at Keith beside him.

It makes him feel a bunch of different stuff being this close to Keith’s face and free to stare.

Lance sits up a little, turning onto his side and propping his head up onto his bent arm. He reaches out and strokes the locks of hair that have fallen over Keith’s face, pushes them out of the way so he can see him better. It’s soft. An unexpected texture that he absently indulges in, gently playing the tips of his fingers through it. “Such a pretty boy…” he says before he can stop his thoughts from coming out his mouth.

His fingers freeze as he realizes his mistake and thinks Keith’s going to wake and catch him like this. The rising panic regresses when there’s no response to his words at all. It makes Lance wonder what it would take to rouse him.

“Keith,” he says, just above a whisper.

Nothing.

“Keith,” he says again, a little louder.

Nothing again.

This time he puts his hand on his cheek and pats it enough to make a small smacking sound, “Keith!”

Still nothing. Not even a flinch.

“Wow, you’re a real lightweight,” he smiles and tells him in a one-sided conversation, “I could probably do anything -” He stops those thoughts right there and pulls his hand away.

He swallows hard and decides that maybe he shouldn't be this close to Keith, so he sits up, putting his feet on the floor and looks back at him.

He should take care of his teammate. He should make sure he gets a goodnight’s sleep. He’ll probably feel pretty shitty in the morning, but he should make sure he’s comfortable, at least.

At the very least, he should remove his boots, he thinks.

Lance stands far too quickly and only just manages to catch his balance before he nearly pitches forward onto the floor. For a moment, he’d forgotten he’s not sober either.

Keith’s knees are bent over the edge of the bed. Lance lifts one of his legs to remove his boot, but the angle’s weird, and the floor is tilting a little, which has nothing at all to do with them being in a spaceship.

Deciding that he’s going about this the wrong way, he swings a leg over Keith’s so he’s facing away from him. He lifts Keith’s leg and begins to tug at it once more. He loses his balance and falls backward kinda hard.

When his head stops spinning, he becomes acutely aware that he’s sitting on Keith, straddling the boy’s thighs, a situation he might have drunkenly brushed off if Keith hadn't stirred at that moment, shifting his hips under Lance’s weight, pushing them up to push away the sudden intrusion to his personal space with a groan.

It goes straight to Lance’s dick. He has to suck in a breath and finds himself grinding down instinctively, having lost control of his thoughts and unable to stop himself reacting to something that feels so good. He briefly pauses as he becomes aware in a small sense of what he’s doing, but then Keith’s hands weakly find hips and he can’t help grinding down again.

Not an accident, exactly, just… unplanned.

Keith’s hands fall to his sides, limp and lifeless once more, and Lance shoots forward onto his feet, finally waking up to his senses. He backs himself against the wall, watching Keith’s prone body as he tries to calm his breathing and his heart, which is punching against his ribs. He curses the growing pressure he knows is happening between his legs and, seeing as he’s the only conscious person in the room, he sticks his hand down there to rearrange himself into a more accommodating position.

Coincidently, he sees Keith shift his hand across himself to do something remarkably similar, another groan, slightly higher this time, escapes his lips and he rolls his head to the other side.

Well, fuck.

Seeing Keith touch himself while Lance has his hand on his own cock has him grip himself and roll his hand a couple of times. The thought of them being feet apart and touching themselves at the same time has Lance letting out a quiet groan of his own.

Keith’s hand drops to the mattress again. His movement has pushed the front of his t-shirt up slightly, revealing once more his lean stomach muscles and the dark happy trail which is leading down towards the thick bulge that’s now filling up the front of his black pants.

Lance can’t take his eyes off of it. He’d always tried to imagine what Keith’s dick would look like, and right now this is the closest he’s ever got to knowing for real. Curiosity draws him forward, his singular focus allowing him a certain clarity, until his knees bump against the edge of the bed, stopping him.

He flicks his attention to Keith’s face, checking that he’s still out cold, then he’s back looking at the outline of that tantalizing shape, trapped tight in Keith’s pants.

Must be uncomfortable, he thinks, as he moves his hand over himself unconsciously, as if to emphasize how good he feels now he’s freed himself.

He really should be a good teammate and help him get more comfortable, he thinks again, ignoring the fact that he’s thinking about it in a whole new way this time.

Pulling his hand off himself, he sets out to get the better of Keith’s boots. This time, when he lifts his calf up, he sees there’s a zipper on the inside that runs all the way down to his ankle. He pulls it down and Keith’s foot slips easily out of it. He makes quick work of the other and tosses them carelessly in the direction of where Keith’s leather jacket is hanging on a peg by the door. The noise is loud, but Keith’s still out cold.

Lance is crouched on the floor at Keith’s knees now, looking up the length of him, still distracted by the bulge of Keith’s crotch. Moreso, now that it’s closer.

Within reach, even.

Without thought, he cups Keith’s knees in his hands and spreads them apart, carefully. Again, without thought, he runs his hands over the tops of his thighs, thumbs pressing into the soft flesh on the insides.

He curses under his breath when he sees Keith’s dick twitch and feels himself grow fully hard at the reaction to his touch.

He hums in approval and strokes his thighs up and down slowly again, trying to provoke another sweet response from him.

He doesn't get scared this time when Keith brings his head round again, his lips parting, letting out a gentle sigh which Lance is sure is a sign of approval. Keith’s liking this, and the noise makes Lance feel good that he’s making Keith feel good.

“Fuck…” Lance curses out loud this time. He's aching between his legs now, but he’s trying to stick to the original plan. To make Keith comfortable.

He stands up, now in the space between Keith’s legs, and looks down at him, trying to keep his thoughts on track. He should take Keith’s pants off, to make him more comfortable. Nothing worse than falling asleep in your clothes, Lance tells himself. Tells himself again that he’s doing this ‘cause he’s a good teammate.

He crouches over the sleeping figure and reaches around his waist as far as he can and hooks his fingers into the waistband of his pants. Keith’s wearing the one pair he arrived in space with. Lance looks down and considers the hours he’s lost looking at these pants and how they leave little to his imagination. “Hey, Keith,” he says, giving him a nudge with his hands where he has them poised and waiting, “Keith? ‘M gonna help you outta your pants, ‘kay?”

No response, again. Lance pushes away his earlier thought and stays on track with his objective.

“Keith, buddy,” he tries again, “Hey, I’m not gonna take off your pants unless you gimme somethin' to go with, d’ya get me?”

Lance is sure he saw the corner of Keith's mouth lift with a flash of a smirk, then his face is slack again. Lance rolls his eyes. "Somethin' more than that," he starts to complain, but then Keith's leg muscles tighten and he lifts his hips off the bed just enough to let Lance slip his pants over the curve of his ass and down with ease.

Keith slumps his weight back down again, leaving Lance propped between his knees, still gripping the thin material by Keith’s thighs as he stares down at the spectacle of Keith's skin-tight crimson boxer briefs that are fighting (and losing, in Lance’s opinion) a battle to contain all of Keith’s endowments.

It's there, right there, right below his face. The tip’s exposed above the elastic. Foreskin pulled up, making his pre gather in the hollow it makes around his slit, although it's starting to spill over the edge. Lance watches, as a single drop drips onto Keith's stomach and he wishes he'd been quick enough to catch it on his tongue.

Lance is overwhelmed by the sight and smell before him. "Keith," he breathes, but loud enough for him to be heard. He squeezes his eyes closed to block out the distraction and give more strength to his hearing so he doesn't miss anything. "Keith," his voice is almost unrecognizable to him, "you okay with this?"

The question is ambiguous, Keith's ability to consent is more than questionable, but he wants to put Keith in his mouth so badly that he's willing to accept the quiet moan he gives in response as a yes.

“Thank you.”

He drops his head and tortures himself by resting his bottom lip on the strip of foreskin that's exposed and takes a second to savor the moment, preparing himself for what’s been a dream of his for so long. He slowly caresses the tip of his tongue across the tip of Keith's cock and licks at that beautiful pre that Keith's been making just for him. He passes his tongue over the spot again, and it's just as he imagined, better even. It makes him bolder, makes him thirsty for more.

He manages to pull himself away and hastily removes Keith’s pants from the remainder of his legs. Lance returns to the place between his knees and takes in the vision of him again, black hair spread around his head, his whole body so open and pliant. So inviting.

Lance’s wandering eye returns automatically back to that teasing hint of his cock. It’s so tempting. “You’re such a fucking tease, y’know that, Kogane?” His words have no effect on Keith, but they certainly do on Lance. He undoes his button and zipper and struggles to remove his own pants. Not as easy as Keith’s had been. He looks over to his face and says it as he thinks it, “Slut.”

He smiles at that. Something about saying it out loud, as opposed to just thinking it does something to him, lights a fire inside of him that burns hot and makes him feel compulsive. He needs to see all of that cock, and now.

He crouches on the bed between those muscular thighs, pushes apart his knees again and with little finesse he pulls the elastic at the front of Keith’s boxers down to reveal one of the nicest cocks he’s seen in his life, and he’s watched a lot of porn in the years since his first orgasm.

There’s nothing about it to fault. He’s long, but not too long, which Lance considers a blessing because long dicks freak him out. He has a good girth that Lance knows would stretch him exquisitely and have him remembering it for days after.

The need to touch it gets to him, so he tucks the elastic underneath Keith’s balls. It pulls them up tightly, shows them off prettily. Lance fondles them gently, but there’s not much room for maneuver because damn, they’re so full and heavy.

“Jesus, Keith, whatcha tryna do? You saving yourself for a special occasion?” he says this with genuine concern as he’s sure it’s unhealthy to store this much for what must’ve been a while.

He trails his touch up his cock. The skin on his shaft is smooth and silky and Lance enjoys the feel of it. He trails his fingers up and down, getting a kick at the way it occasionally jumps. There’s even more pre leaking from him now.

Lance hums at the thought of having the taste of Keith in the back of his throat until he realizes that he can actually have it.

He climbs properly on the bed and makes himself comfortable, lying perpendicular to him. He holds himself up on one elbow and uses his other hand to grip Keith’s cock. He rests his head on his stomach and looks down from his top view at it, then wastes no time pulling the skin down to slowly reveal the bright pink head that was hiding beneath. The pre slides down with it and at that, Lance wraps his lips around the crown and laps it up, dancing his tongue around and over as he gently sucks and slowly starts pumping him with his hand.

He can feel every hard spasm of Keith’s stomach muscles as his body reacts almost violently to Lance’s hot mouth and tongue, each one has him thrusting up, desperately trying to seek more pleasure. “Fucking slut needs to hold his horses,” he warns Keith with a squeeze around the bottom of his shaft.

Lance actually appreciates how desperate he is for more. He decides Keith’s ready for it and starts to push his head down further and further each time he takes him deep until he finally feels the soft press against his tonsils. It makes his eyes water and his throat closes instinctively, but he hears and feels the soft whine that it pulls from Keith behind him, and realizes that, as much as he’s enjoying sucking him off, he’s missing out on being able to see him.

There’s so much pre dribbling from Keith now. Lance brings his mouth back up to the tip of Keith’s cock and smears it messily across his lips so he can sit up and lick it off. He groans as he does it. “ Fuuuuck, Keith. You taste amazing,” there’s still no reaction from him.

The hem of Keith’s t-shirt is still teasing the hidden work of art that’s hidden underneath. Spying it, Lance sits up a little and slides his hand underneath, letting his palm and fingers finally, finally, explore the plains of his chest and stomach that he’s only been able to imagine touching until now. He hitches the t-shirt up higher so he can get a better look, watch as his rapid, shallow breaths make his hand rise and fall with the movement which tells Lance how much Keith’s enjoying this too. He thinks how even though he’s not awake, the things Lance is doing to him are making him aroused, and he’s suddenly aware of how hard and ready for it he is too.

His hand is a welcome relief to his stiff cock. “See what you do to me, baby?” he pushes his boxers down hurriedly with one hand until they’re bunched at the top of his thighs, “See that?” he looks down at his erection like he can make Keith see it through his own eyes and palms it soothingly, sucking in a breath and letting it out in a long, low moan.

Keith’s panting and his almost naked body splayed out in front of him with that gorgeous cock filled out in wanting are almost too much for his uncontrollable, drunken brain.

“Fuck, look at you… bet you can’t wait for me to fill you good and hard.” Lance’s hand naturally speeds up as he talks. “You want that, Keith? Want my cum filling your holes? Fuck, I wouldn’t know where to start…” his mind drifts as he imagines the first several places he’d like to give it to Keith, although it’s not for the first time.

The pace of his hand quickens, but he slows when he starts to feel the sparks of heat begin below his stomach. It’s too soon, he doesn’t want this to be over just yet.

He wants to watch Keith cum. Wants to see that normally tense face relax in bliss. He’s frequently wondered what that would look like, too. Now he has his chance. He stops stroking himself and gives Keith his hand instead. “You close, baby? D’you want my hand or do ya wanna cum in my mouth?” With just a few simple passes, he feels Keith’s cock fill rock hard in his hand again. It pleases some carnal part of his brain that Keith’s so willing for him. He’s never said so many filthy thoughts out loud before, but now he’s started, he can’t hold it back.

“Betcha don’t care. Bet you’re so desperate for me that you could cum untouched. I wanna see that someday. Wanna hear you beg for my cock. Such an easy slut. So eager to offer yourself up for me. If I’d known you needed it this badly, I could have been givin’ it to you for months. Been needin’ somewhere warm to off-load since we left earth.”

The mattress dips as Keith’s hips start to rock, start to chase the pleasure of Lance’s hand that he’s working over him rapidly now. It’s clumsy and rough, but it’s making Keith move, so it’s working.

The stir in Keith’s drowsy body, the quiet slick sound of pre with every pass of his foreskin has Lance’s own needs spiking again.

He has a sudden concern for the mess Keith’s about to make, something in the recesses of his conscience tells him that Keith’s gonna be asking questions if he wakes in the morning covered in cum, and somehow that’s something he doesn’t need. If there’re no questions then there’s no need to lie, right? He’s not sure what Keith would question, or why he’d need to lie, he can’t process these complicated factors while Keith’s rocking into his hand.

The stutter of his rhythm pulls him from his confusion as he realizes that the issue of mess is imminent, so he moves quickly without thought and gets his mouth over Keith’s cock just as his orgasm hits him.

It’s a lot, just as he’d suspected. The warm cum fills his mouth and he only just manages to swallow in time without choking, only a little escaping and making its way past the corner of his lips.

Lance whines, thrills at the taste and smell of Keith as his senses flood with the reality of what’s just happened. He missed seeing Keith’s face, but he doesn’t regret forfeiting it for a minute. He pulls off, panting for breath, his own dick demanding attention now.

He comes around to lie next to Keith again, twisting onto his side to stare at his perfect, peaceful face. His long lashes and normally pale cheekbones are flushed pink and it stirs something in Lance’s chest to know it was him that put that color there.

He feels something on his own face and runs a finger from his cheek to his lips, surprised to find a wet, sticky remnant of Keith’s cum on his finger. He lifts it to Keith’s mouth, presses it against his sweet, pouty lips. He expected Keith’s tongue to come out and meet it, but there’s nothing. He pushes into the crease between his lips until his finger is in the warmth of his mouth and mixing his cum with the wetness on his tongue.

“D’you taste that? Taste your flavor? It’s better than anything I could have imagined, Keith. You’re better than anything I could have imagined.” he’s rambling a bit because of the nunvill still coursing through him and the fever of his lust.

Removing his finger from his mouth, he runs the backs of his fingers in a caress down his cheek, replaying in his head the moment when his mouth was filled with his pretty cock and cum.

Keith moves his head, chasing after the contact, leaning ever so slightly into the touch with a soft sigh. It’s sweet, loving even, and Lance doesn’t know what to do with the feelings the gesture gives him. Keith shifts ever so slightly. His hand moves enough to brush against Lance’s erection sending a shiver through his body at the unexpected touch and making his cock jump at the attention.

“Yeah, I know, we’re getting to the good bit, patience,” he tells Keith, or perhaps his cock. Possibly both.

Seeing Keith’s hand lying open in invitation between them on the sheets makes Lance reposition himself until his cock is lying over Keith’s hand. For once he’s not wearing his gloves, which somehow turns Lance on even more. Like he’s about to fuck some pure, unsullied part of him. He wants to cover it in his cum, he thinks, and mark it as his. Defile this tiny part of him that only his eyes have seen, only his cock has had the pleasure of being gratified by its touch.

He rubs himself off on Keith’s naked hand. It’s unresponsive, but he knows Keith just wants Lance to use him, use every part of him. He’s wanted Lance so badly that he’s happy to lie there, even unaware, and let Lance have every part of him, take whatever he needs.

He pushes himself up on his forearms so he can grind harder into his motionless hand while also being able to look upon the vision of beauty next to him. Mine, he thinks.

“That’s it, keep it right there, baby… it feels so good, you want my cum now? Want me to mark you up?” he speeds up at the thought, “Mmmuh… fuck, baby, I’m close…”

It’s now that he has the foresight to think about the mess again. Keith was bound to notice the relief in his balls when he woke up in the morning. If there was no trace of where he’d cum it would seem odd. If, on the other hand, he was covered in dried cum it would seem obvious he’d just had a wet dream or jerked himself off in the night. He needs to fix this.

Lance fumbles over the top of Keith’s unconscious body and straddles his hips. He still wants Keith’s hand, so he lifts it and places it between his belly and his erection. He paws Keith’s limp dick until he has it lined up with his own, then he leans forward, trapping both their cocks together, coddled by Keith’s bare, virgin-esque hand.

He places his own hands either side of Keith’s head and doesn’t bother starting off slow, just picks up the pace he’d been working at before he’d stopped. He can’t help the soft grunts that he makes on every thrust. He stares at Keith’s face again, watches the way his body limply follows the movements of his thrusts.

“Gotta say... this is much better... with you not saying anything…” he says, “You’re fucking cute… just lying there and taking it…” he rocks his hips faster, pushes into Keith’s stomach a little harder, “Taking my cock… betcha wish I’d take you for real, huh? … Fuck… I wanna fill you with my cock… fill you with my cum… fill your ass so full… make you choke it down -” and with that image flooding his thoughts, he cums hard.

It takes the air out of his lungs, unable to cry out like he feels he needs to. He keeps rolling his hips, never wanting the feeling to stop. He keeps going long after he’s finished, just absorbing the sensation of rubbing their cocks and Keith’s hand through the mess he’s left all over both their stomachs.

It’s dirty, debauched. He knows somewhere, in a tiny part of his conscience, that it’s perhaps not right, but it’s because of that it makes it even more pleasurable, makes his dick twinge as if wanting to go again already.

He could, he thinks. Keith’s not going anywhere soon, he jokes to himself, dryly.

He sits up and looks down between them at the mess that’s matted the hairs of his happy trail to his skin. He marvels at the sight of them together, sticky skin flushed red on them both. He runs his hands up Keith’s chest and leans over him until his fingers slide into the long hair at the nape of his neck. Lance cradles his head tenderly and kisses his lips slowly, fondly, over and over with soft presses. The lack of response not holding him back.

“Thank you, baby,” he whispers against his lips, “I’d go again, right now, if I could. You’re so sweet, such a good boy for me, thank you,” he repeats, “but I think you need your rest now.”

He leaves one more delicate kiss on Keith’s lips and climbs off him, swaying and catching his balance before easing Keith’s boxers up and softly pulling his t-shirt back down to cover him. He lifts his legs up onto the bed and manages to pull and roll him onto his side, in case he pukes in his sleep, then tries his best to tuck him in comfortably.

Gathering his jeans off the floor, he fights his feet down the legs and fumbles with the zipper and button. He knows the cum drying on his skin is offensive. He feels guilty walking away without cleaning Keith up before he leaves him, it’s poor etiquette. Lance has no plans to clean himself up. He’s looking forward to waking up in the morning with proof of their good time together still there on his skin.

Before he makes his way back to his room, he walks over to Keith and leans over to give him one more kiss.

“Sleep well, baby,” he murmurs, “dream of me. I’ll be dreaming of you.”