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scriveynerTitle: speechless
Fandom: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Characters/Pairing: Shiro/Keith/Lance
Rating: NSFW/E
Length: 1307
Summary: It took Shiro far too long to realize that the best way to shut Lance up was to otherwise occupy his mouth.
It took Shiro far too long to realize that the best way to shut Lance up was to otherwise occupy his mouth. And to be fair, he wouldn't have come to this stunningly obvious realization if he hadn't turned a corner to find Lance on his knees in front of Keith. Shiro stopped dead in his tracks, one hand still on the wall and his eyes fixed on Keith's hand in Lance's hair, the contrast of his fingerless gloves and Lance's soft brown locks as he tightened his grip there. Lance's attention was solely on Keith, eyes upturned, muscles in his jaw and throat working as he bobbed his head slowly.
That was all Shiro needed to see. He turned around on the double, whipping back around the corner and his shoulder making a glancing impact with the wall as he dizzily got his bearings and hurried off. He wasn't going to acknowledge that he saw anything; what the other Paladins did on their down time was their own business as long as it didn't affect the team as a cohesive whole.
He definitely wasn't going to acknowledge how quickly he got hard, either.
(Or that his next stop was the head, to take care of business because the last thing he wanted was to discover that Alteans had a keen nose for arousal.)
But still. The image persisted.
Keith the same as ever in training, in sparring -- his violet eyes narrowed in concern when he was able to throw Shiro, pin him to the mat; he had one palm on Shiro's heaving chest and weirdly that touch sent electric tremors down Shiro's spine. "You all right?" he asked, and Shiro's chest heaved.
No, he wasn't.
Lance at the dinner table, utensil in one hand and chin in the other as he gabbed at Hunk about something that Shiro had long since lost track of, staring as subtly as he could at Lance's mouth. Lance didn't seem to notice, of course; gesturing broadly with the fork and Hunk rolled his eyes and Pidge gagged, and Shiro lifted his head to realize that Keith was staring at him, brows drawn together and a thoughtful expression on his face.
Shiro threw them into training, because that was plenty of distraction; and if he wore himself out then he wouldn't be tempted, he would fall into his bunk for the approximately three or so hours of sleep he could manage and not dream and not think. The others were tired too, and dragged ass in the morning as Shiro ran laps and they all trailed behind. Keith was the only one who made an attempt to keep up; usually by the second lap he would find Pidge sitting on the sidelines with a laptop open and Lance leaned against her, asleep.
It didn't help.
He would wake up with the idea of warmth, and wet heat lingering at the edge of his perception. Shiro walked the castle from bow to stern and couldn't put it from his mind.
Keith's hand on his arm left silent electricity in its wake, Shiro's skin jumped under the contact. Keith said nothing about the strange way Shiro tensed at his casual contact, acted as if nothing was wrong, as if nothing were different. He spent that night staring at the ceiling above his bunk, head pillowed on one arm and the other resting on his belly and not drifting any farther down because he still had his self-control, even in private.
His walks became nightly, a steady, brisk pace as he mapped the corridors of the castle-ship and tried oh so desperately to regain himself. He would occasionally run across Pidge, whom he would stare down until she scurried off with promises of sleeping sometime; but for the most part it was just him and the ship and the silent, endless expanse of space.
Shiro stood in the common room, one wall turned to viewscreen and just watched the void. The stars didn't glitter; they were long out of atmosphere and into deep space now, just a billion fixed points of light scattered like paint from a brush. There was nothing to see here, they were just drifting; no planets, no visible star systems, no clouds or asteroids; just deep, unending black. It scared him, once.
There was a hiss of hydrolics as the doors parted, and Shiro half-turned, arms crossed, to see Lance standing there. He was slumped a little, clearly sleepy, wearing the loose blue tunic pajamas that the ship had provided. Shiro kept his mouth shut and raised an eyebrow, because if he spoke he would betray himself and he was too tired to keep his game face on for long.
Lance yawned huge, rudely, barely covering his mouth. "Keith said you wanted to see me?" he said, drowsy and disinterested. Shiro's mouth had gone dry. "It's the middle of the night-cycle, Shiro, what's so important-?"
Shiro stared at Lance, because Keith had sent him and Keith knew. He had felt the tingle under Shiro's skin and knew, he had watched the way Shiro's face had tightened, watched him bite his lip and catch himself doing so while watching Lance, he knew, he knew. Shiro wet his lips once, saw the way that Lance's eyes, heavy with sleep, caught the motion and processed it, then he smiled softly and said, "Lance, it's late. It can wait until morning."
They were the hardest words he had ever forced out.
Lance stretched his arms over his head and scratched one hand through his messy, sleep-tousled hair. Shiro didn't ask if he came from Keith's bed, it didn't matter; and Lance crossed the common area to stand beside Shiro, looking out the viewscreen at the void. Shiro sucked a breath in through his teeth and held it, hoped Lance didn't hear, because the strong rope of his resolve had all but unraveled.
Tentatively, Shiro put his hand on Lance's shoulder.
Lance relaxed a little under his touch, leaned his head toward Shiro instead of away, but for a moment kept looking out at the stars. This was different, than the map; the map gave fixed points and locations. Looking out into the endlessness of space, it was very easy to get caught up in how tiny and insignificant even the massive Castle of Lions really, really was. Lance let out a small sigh, then looked over at Shiro, mouth open to say something probably sardonic when he paused, and his eyes widened slightly with the intensity of Shiro's expression.
"Shiro?" Lance asked, tentatively.
Shiro put pressure on Lance's shoulder, pushing him slowly down. As soon as Lance realized what that pressure meant, he dropped to his knees in a smooth motion, the warmth of his shoulder through the thin fabric of the tunic gone in a flash. "Oh," Lance said, and while his face had gone pink his expression had shifted to lazily seductive. "Why didn't you just say something?"
"Keith acting all mysterious an' shit," Lance continued, one hand on Shiro's hip, his nimble fingers undoing the catch on Shiro's trousers. "'Shiro wants to see you,'" he said in a passable imitation of Keith's tone. Shiro was going to tell him to shut up, but then Lance's fingers found his need and Lance bit his lip, extracting Shiro from the tight confines of his clothing. His eyes met Shiro's, and Lance grinned a silky grin, stroking his hand lazily up and down the velvety hot flesh of Shiro's cock. "You only had to ask, you know."
There were a thousand reasons why he couldn't, but Shiro didn't have to say anything else, putting one hand on Lance's head tenderly and guiding him.
Lance smirked, opened his mouth, and didn't say anything else for a long, long while.
Fandom: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Characters/Pairing: Shiro/Keith/Lance
Rating: NSFW/E
Length: 1307
Summary: It took Shiro far too long to realize that the best way to shut Lance up was to otherwise occupy his mouth.
It took Shiro far too long to realize that the best way to shut Lance up was to otherwise occupy his mouth. And to be fair, he wouldn't have come to this stunningly obvious realization if he hadn't turned a corner to find Lance on his knees in front of Keith. Shiro stopped dead in his tracks, one hand still on the wall and his eyes fixed on Keith's hand in Lance's hair, the contrast of his fingerless gloves and Lance's soft brown locks as he tightened his grip there. Lance's attention was solely on Keith, eyes upturned, muscles in his jaw and throat working as he bobbed his head slowly.
That was all Shiro needed to see. He turned around on the double, whipping back around the corner and his shoulder making a glancing impact with the wall as he dizzily got his bearings and hurried off. He wasn't going to acknowledge that he saw anything; what the other Paladins did on their down time was their own business as long as it didn't affect the team as a cohesive whole.
He definitely wasn't going to acknowledge how quickly he got hard, either.
(Or that his next stop was the head, to take care of business because the last thing he wanted was to discover that Alteans had a keen nose for arousal.)
But still. The image persisted.
Keith the same as ever in training, in sparring -- his violet eyes narrowed in concern when he was able to throw Shiro, pin him to the mat; he had one palm on Shiro's heaving chest and weirdly that touch sent electric tremors down Shiro's spine. "You all right?" he asked, and Shiro's chest heaved.
No, he wasn't.
Lance at the dinner table, utensil in one hand and chin in the other as he gabbed at Hunk about something that Shiro had long since lost track of, staring as subtly as he could at Lance's mouth. Lance didn't seem to notice, of course; gesturing broadly with the fork and Hunk rolled his eyes and Pidge gagged, and Shiro lifted his head to realize that Keith was staring at him, brows drawn together and a thoughtful expression on his face.
Shiro threw them into training, because that was plenty of distraction; and if he wore himself out then he wouldn't be tempted, he would fall into his bunk for the approximately three or so hours of sleep he could manage and not dream and not think. The others were tired too, and dragged ass in the morning as Shiro ran laps and they all trailed behind. Keith was the only one who made an attempt to keep up; usually by the second lap he would find Pidge sitting on the sidelines with a laptop open and Lance leaned against her, asleep.
It didn't help.
He would wake up with the idea of warmth, and wet heat lingering at the edge of his perception. Shiro walked the castle from bow to stern and couldn't put it from his mind.
Keith's hand on his arm left silent electricity in its wake, Shiro's skin jumped under the contact. Keith said nothing about the strange way Shiro tensed at his casual contact, acted as if nothing was wrong, as if nothing were different. He spent that night staring at the ceiling above his bunk, head pillowed on one arm and the other resting on his belly and not drifting any farther down because he still had his self-control, even in private.
His walks became nightly, a steady, brisk pace as he mapped the corridors of the castle-ship and tried oh so desperately to regain himself. He would occasionally run across Pidge, whom he would stare down until she scurried off with promises of sleeping sometime; but for the most part it was just him and the ship and the silent, endless expanse of space.
Shiro stood in the common room, one wall turned to viewscreen and just watched the void. The stars didn't glitter; they were long out of atmosphere and into deep space now, just a billion fixed points of light scattered like paint from a brush. There was nothing to see here, they were just drifting; no planets, no visible star systems, no clouds or asteroids; just deep, unending black. It scared him, once.
There was a hiss of hydrolics as the doors parted, and Shiro half-turned, arms crossed, to see Lance standing there. He was slumped a little, clearly sleepy, wearing the loose blue tunic pajamas that the ship had provided. Shiro kept his mouth shut and raised an eyebrow, because if he spoke he would betray himself and he was too tired to keep his game face on for long.
Lance yawned huge, rudely, barely covering his mouth. "Keith said you wanted to see me?" he said, drowsy and disinterested. Shiro's mouth had gone dry. "It's the middle of the night-cycle, Shiro, what's so important-?"
Shiro stared at Lance, because Keith had sent him and Keith knew. He had felt the tingle under Shiro's skin and knew, he had watched the way Shiro's face had tightened, watched him bite his lip and catch himself doing so while watching Lance, he knew, he knew. Shiro wet his lips once, saw the way that Lance's eyes, heavy with sleep, caught the motion and processed it, then he smiled softly and said, "Lance, it's late. It can wait until morning."
They were the hardest words he had ever forced out.
Lance stretched his arms over his head and scratched one hand through his messy, sleep-tousled hair. Shiro didn't ask if he came from Keith's bed, it didn't matter; and Lance crossed the common area to stand beside Shiro, looking out the viewscreen at the void. Shiro sucked a breath in through his teeth and held it, hoped Lance didn't hear, because the strong rope of his resolve had all but unraveled.
Tentatively, Shiro put his hand on Lance's shoulder.
Lance relaxed a little under his touch, leaned his head toward Shiro instead of away, but for a moment kept looking out at the stars. This was different, than the map; the map gave fixed points and locations. Looking out into the endlessness of space, it was very easy to get caught up in how tiny and insignificant even the massive Castle of Lions really, really was. Lance let out a small sigh, then looked over at Shiro, mouth open to say something probably sardonic when he paused, and his eyes widened slightly with the intensity of Shiro's expression.
"Shiro?" Lance asked, tentatively.
Shiro put pressure on Lance's shoulder, pushing him slowly down. As soon as Lance realized what that pressure meant, he dropped to his knees in a smooth motion, the warmth of his shoulder through the thin fabric of the tunic gone in a flash. "Oh," Lance said, and while his face had gone pink his expression had shifted to lazily seductive. "Why didn't you just say something?"
"Keith acting all mysterious an' shit," Lance continued, one hand on Shiro's hip, his nimble fingers undoing the catch on Shiro's trousers. "'Shiro wants to see you,'" he said in a passable imitation of Keith's tone. Shiro was going to tell him to shut up, but then Lance's fingers found his need and Lance bit his lip, extracting Shiro from the tight confines of his clothing. His eyes met Shiro's, and Lance grinned a silky grin, stroking his hand lazily up and down the velvety hot flesh of Shiro's cock. "You only had to ask, you know."
There were a thousand reasons why he couldn't, but Shiro didn't have to say anything else, putting one hand on Lance's head tenderly and guiding him.
Lance smirked, opened his mouth, and didn't say anything else for a long, long while.
