historically inaccurate but well-meaning t-rex (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
scriveyner) wrote2018-08-24 09:31 pm
scriveyner) wrote2018-08-24 09:31 pm
Entry tags:
- au: nightbreed,
- character: keith,
- character: keith (werewolf),
- character: lance,
- character: lance (selkie),
- character: takashi shirogane,
- character: takashi shirogane (werewolf),
- genre: multi-part,
- genre: smut,
- genre: urban fantasy,
- pairing: shiro/lance,
- series: voltron legendary defender,
- wc: under 5000
Voltron Legendary Defender (Nightbreed) - Sure Thing Falling [3] [Shance]
Title: sure thing falling - 3 - separation
Fandom: Voltron: Legendary Defender
AU: Nightbreed
Characters/Pairing: Shiro/Lance, Keith
Rating: NSFW/E
Length: 3450
Summary: It hurt, more than he understood, worse than it had Before; when there were bars on the window and a cold concrete floor under his feet.
It hurt, more than he understood, worse than it had Before; when there were bars on the window and a cold concrete floor under his feet. Chest heaving, lying on the ground as the rain came down even harder, churning the blood-soaked soil into mud outside, destroying the traces of their passage, or their current location.
Keith sat beside him, hair plastered to his skull with the rain, naked and bleeding. The wound on his shoulder wasn't fresh, the blood-scent old, but he didn't seem bothered by it or even to notice it. He just sat beside Shiro, brushing his fingers back along Shiro's scalp as he lay panting in the dirt. "It's okay," Keith said, his voice barely louder than the rain pouring down outside. "It's okay.
"I've got you, Shiro."
#
"Uh ... this isn't what it looks like."
Shiro winced as soon as the words escaped him; because they were trite and campy, not because Lance was standing half behind him naked still and refusing to cover up. He could sense Lance's eyes over his shoulder as he regarded Keith with some suspicion, but Shiro didn't acknowledge the unease that radiated from behind him. His cabin was small and the main room was smaller still, and with three grown men standing in it there was really nowhere for any of them to go. Shiro shielded as much of Lance's body as he could, uncertain of why he was concerned for Lance's modesty when he himself clearly didn't give a shit; but Keith didn't seem to notice Shiro's intention ... or at least, he hadn't yet.
"This isn't what it looks like? " Keith repeated, as incredulous as Shiro had ever heard him. "What am I supposed to think this looks like , Shiro?"
Lance slid his hand over Shiro's bare hip, just above the rise of the pants he had thrown on in haste, and gave Keith a sultry look over Shiro's shoulder. "Yeah," he murmured, pitching his voice just right as his fingers curled possessively over Shiro's skin. "What does this look like, I wonder?"
There was a heartbeat of silence in which Keith's eyes went to Lance's hand before traveling back to Shiro's face, and Shiro didn't bother to try and quantify the expression Keith was wearing. "Okay," Shiro announced, slipping his arm under Lance's and removing his hand from Shiro's skin. "You need to go take a shower and get cleaned up." He turned Lance around bodily, and Lance slumped back against his hands in a visceral, full-body pout. " Go , Lance."
Lance shuffled off with a loud huff of annoyance, and pulled the bedroom door shut behind him - but not without giving Keith a long, final, suspicious stare as he closed it. Shiro groaned and then turned back to Keith, standing the main room of his cabin with a frown and folded arms. "What are you doing back here so soon, Keith?"
"Who is that ," Keith asked, voice flat.
"He's ... it's not important." Shiro pushed his right hand back through his hair and exhaled loudly. "What are you doing here?" There was a stretched moment of tense silence where he didn't relax his shoulders until he heard the shower start up, and then he hung his head slightly and sighed in relief. Keith was watching him with the most suspicious glare and, okay, yeah. He maybe deserved that one a little. "I thought you were headed north to meet with the rest of the Blade."
"I was headed north," Keith said. He cast a glance around the main room, his gaze lingering on the television set but Shiro didn't say anything, choosing instead to stalk past Keith and head toward the kitchen. He needed coffee, damn it. "I was heading up that way until I happened to pick up some chatter about sealers going missing along the coast, suspiciously near here." Keith followed Shiro into the kitchen, stopping in the threshold and leaning his shoulder against the door frame.
Shiro intently ignored Keith as he put the coffee on. He had hesitated a bare moment when he noticed that the counter had been cleared and the dishes he'd left stacked in the sink were washed; all now set in the strainer to dry. He didn't voice his surprise, though, instead opening a cabinet to retrieve a mug. "Coffee?" he asked Keith, but Keith shook his head.
"I told you to stay out of trouble, Shiro," Keith said. "I said there were hunters-"
"Why do you think it was me?" Shiro asked suddenly, staring at the empty mug on the counter. Keith faltered a moment but found his footing fast.
"Why are you disappearing sealers , Shiro?"
"I didn't have anything to do with anyone's disappearance," Shiro said, the casual lie setting easy on his tongue. It wasn't supposed to be this easy to lie to Keith. "I was with Lance all day. You can check with him if you don't believe me."
"Uh-huh." Keith didn't sound at all convinced, which was fair, because he could usually smell Shiro's lies from a mile off. "Yeah, Lance," he said. "Let's talk about Lance for a second, Shiro."
"There's nothing to talk about."
"Like hell there's not. You think I can't smell what he is?" Keith touched his finger to his nose. "You remember what happened the last time you got fuck-all involved with a fae?"
Shiro raised an eyebrow, silent, inviting Keith to complete that thought.
Instead, Keith flushed an angry red and looked away, recognizing the trap when he saw it. "Okay, maybe that was both our faults," he conceded. "But you're playing with fire here, though. How long have you been seeing him?"
Shiro shrugged his shoulders loosely. "Doesn't matter. I can bring home and fuck whoever I'd like."
"Yeah, when you're not bewitched by them."
"I'm not bewitched." The anger itched at the back of Shiro's throat, and he hated it; but he hated more the anger that Keith had in his tone. "You're mad that it's not you." It wasn't a question but a revelation, and there was a moment of stunned silence before he could even begin to regain his footing.
Keith wouldn't look at him, his face turned away and eyes shadowed by his bangs. Damn it . The revelation weighed him down now, tasted of regret more than anything. "Keith, I'm sorry, that was inappropriate-"
Keith pushed off the door frame with his shoulder. "You're right," he said, and his tone had shifted entirely, gone dull. "You can fuck whoever you like, it's not my business."
"Keith."
"I came back to make sure you were okay, and help you get out of town if you weren't." Keith looked around the kitchen, made extra-sure not to meet Shiro's eye as he did so. "The attacks don't look anything like a shifter, hell, they could have been some deranged lunatic with a knife. I would just lie low for a few days, wait for the whole thing to blow over." Keith turned away and Shiro shifted from the counter, pushing off it and intending the cross the room toward Keith.
The wheezing rumble of the plumbing as the shower shut off distracted him, and that allowed Keith enough time to slip away, across the main room and toward the door. "Just do me a favor," Keith said, his hand on the side of the door. "Don't let your fuck toy selkie near the ocean until they've finished their investigation. It'll get ugly, otherwise."
Shiro's heart skipped an actual beat, but he didn't make it to the door before Keith slammed it behind him.
#
Lance found Shiro sitting on the couch, staring listlessly at the mug of coffee between his hands. "So... what," Lance said, taking Shiro's coffee and seating himself comfortably beside Shiro on the couch. "He an old boyfriend, or something?"
Shiro sighed out a long breath, and let his hands dangle between his knees, as Lance started the antenna scan for the umpteenth time on the television. "Or something," he said, and Lance made a noise of assent.
#
The night air smelled heavy when Shiro stepped outside to smoke. There was only one light out back of the bar, and a few fat moths flew against it blindly as Shiro lit the cigarette and exhaled a stream of smoke into the dark night.
It was a nasty habit and he abused it only for the reprieve it granted him, taking five minutes out from the dim light and dull music of the bar. There were too many people inside tonight, too many unfamiliar faces and it set his nerves on edge because he knew among those college kids and pass-through truckers were hunters there to avenge the death of their brethren.
He inhaled long and held it, not from the cigarette he held but instead ingesting the cool night air, searching it for hints of the trouble that he knew was coming.
The murders were - unofficially - the talk of the town. As he'd suspected the ocean did not keep her secrets and the bodies had washed ashore in the high tide; pretty much right on the public beach. The men weren't local but they weren't outsiders either, at least two people knew of affairs and spurned women, and the gossip led to a round of head-nodding and murmured noises of affirmation, brushing aside the deaths as nothing more than revenge.
Well. They weren't entirely off the mark - it was revenge , if nothing else.
"You all right?" Matt asked, not for the first time, as Shiro lugged a tub of ice from the back to refill the cooler. He leaned the tub against the counter and braced it with his body, giving Matt a pointed look. "You've been pretty weird tonight, Shiro."
"I'm weird every night."
"No argument there," Matt said, and wiped down the counter.
The danger hung heavily over his head, and Shiro could imagine the rope fraying with every exchange he had. Last call was late, closing was even later than usual; as Shiro locked the employee entrance behind him the first faint tendrils of daylight had begun to creep over the horizon. They were going to milk every last coin that they could from the outsiders and Shiro couldn't blame them for it, but he worried quietly about the man in his bed, and if he would still be there when Shiro returned.
The streetlights were still on, though the sky was slowly lightening. When Shiro crossed the threshold of the town, where the streetlights stopped, a shadow stepped away from a building to walk in the soft grass beside him. "I really thought you'd left town by now," Shiro said absently, not looking directly at the sleek black wolf matching his stride. "Isn't it dangerous for you, to be here like that?"
There was no response, there never would be. Even so Shiro could imagine it, the words curt and snippy, in Keith's familiar, irritated tone. No more dangerous than it is for you.
"I'm perfectly safe here," Shiro murmured, answering the unspoken response, and the wolf snorted and shook his head.
Keith left him at the door to his cabin, slipping back into the darkness rather than accepting Shiro's invitation of an open door. Rose tinted the blue-gray sky, but the sun had not yet broken the horizon and the ground was still dark. Shiro sighed once, and let himself in.
Lance slept still in his bed, one hand tucked against his face and wrapped close to himself. Shiro smiled softly, amazed at how quickly Lance had wormed his way into Shiro's heart ... and he paused, wondering if there wasn't something to Keith's worry about enchantment. But that thought passed as fleeting as it had come on, because as much as he wouldn't admit it to himself he was lonely, and Lance had filled that void in a way even Keith hadn't managed to. Shiro stripped and crawled into bed beside Lance, wrapping his arm around him and pulling him in toward Shiro, pressing his back to Shiro's chest.
Lance relaxed into his embrace and didn't stir, so Shiro nestled his head against Lance's and sighed out a breath, closing his eyes.
#
"Shiro, it's me," Keith said, hand on Shiro's shoulders, dark hair in his eyes. His face was wrong, different, jaw squarer and eyes set more in his face. It wasn't right, but it was Keith , and he didn't know what to do or make of the hand curling tight on his aching skin. "It's me," he repeated, a tinge of desperation to his voice.
"I've got you."
#
Shiro woke with Lance's mouth on him, fully roused and halfway down Lance's throat. He let out a small gasp and a moan, rocking his hips in response and Lance hummed out a noise of amusement, letting Shiro's cock slide from his mouth with a wet pop. Daylight crept in through the curtains, he didn't have any idea what time it was. "Lance," Shiro said, voice thick with sleep, his hand reaching for Lance's head.
Lance tilted his head away, a soft smile on his face. "Let me," he said, and dipped his head low again.
He didn't let Shiro come, he climbed onto his cock instead and despite Shiro's hesitation, his worry - Lance slid down on Shiro slow and languid, bliss on his features, like he was made only to take Shiro's girth.
After the first few times he sank down and rose again on trembling thighs Shiro gripped his legs and rolled his hips, rising to meet every drop of Lance's body. It made Lance squirm, his mouth falling open and loosing small, throaty sounds at every impact of their bodies. Shiro came inside, and somehow managed to keep Lance from sinking down onto his knot; although Lance's face expressed clear confusion when he couldn’t sink as far down as he had before.
Shiro pulled him down into a deep kiss and that distracted him, shifting as Shiro's cock slid free with a soft, wet sound.
"You didn't have to do that," Shiro said softly, brushing his fingers through Lance's hair as he lay across Shiro's chest.
"Wanted to," Lance said sleepily, and drifted off again there. Shiro didn't dare move, as that would disturb him, and instead closed his eyes as well, drifting off again, well sated.
When he woke, Lance was gone.
#
"Do me a favor tonight," Shiro said, pulling on his jacket. Lance had half a slice of pizza hanging out of his mouth, sitting too close to a television screen that was only thinking about the possibility of picking up a local PEG station and hadn't quite committed to it yet.
"Mm?" Lance said, without removing or further inhaling his food.
"Stay in." Shiro said, and Lance tilted his head and finally looked at Shiro, eyebrow raised. "There's bad business afoot, and just ... I can't help you, I'll be at work. If you stay here you'll be safe."
"Safe from what?" Lance said, taking the pizza from his mouth.
"Just promise me."
Lance batted his eyelashes at Shiro. "Of course, husband."
"Cute," Shiro rolled his eyes, but he smiled as well.
#
I've got you.
#
Shiro sat on the edge of his bed, and stared at Lance's sealskin.
It hung still on a hook behind his bedroom door, drab military colors brown and green. After staring at it for far too long Shiro stood up and pulled the jacket down, holding it in his hands. Even now it felt like polyester and cotton, the metal of the zipper and the aglets on the hood catching the overhead light.
He knew its true form though, had seen the spotted hide lying in the sand, held it in his hands and even knowing this wasn't a real jacket he still couldn't reconcile one to the other. Shiro turned the material over and sighed, and then lifted the jacket to his face, burying his nose in the collar and breathing in Lance's scent at its most potent source.
With his eyes closed, he could see the ocean.
Shiro jerked his head back and almost dropped the disguised sealskin. He stared down at the material, hands shaking slightly - that hadn't been his imagination, or a memory ... or if it was a memory, it wasn't his. He could hear the waves splashing the beach and taste the salt in the air; the ocean sang a particular haunting melody and that very brief snippet was enough that Shiro could feel the pull of it in his bones.
Of course.
Lance had gone down to the ocean.
Shiro buried his face in the jacket again and felt submerged by it, dragged under the waves of Lance's scent and the ocean itself, but he gleaned nothing else from the sensation and reluctantly surfaced, holding Lance's sealskin tight.
It maintained its form even now, and Shiro returned it carefully to its place of honor, hanging from the hood on the back of his bedroom door. Lance didn't have to hide his sealskin, he trusted Shiro so innately, like he knew Shiro more than Shiro knew himself. He knew he could come and go as he pleased.
Shiro touched the jacket one more time, and then exhaled, opening his bedroom door. He knew where to find Lance, if nothing else.
#
The late afternoon was cloudy, though there were snatches of blue sky that could be glimpsed every now and then; and occasionally the sun would peek out from behind the cloud cover like a lover shyly parting a curtain. Shiro resisted the temptation to put his nose to the ground and follow Lance's scent that way, instead he took the path they'd traveled earlier, the back way that roved 'round the hillside before leading down to the ocean.
He would fish down here, occasionally. Shiro didn't keep the trail clear, he'd intentionally let it fall into disrepair to discourage hikers from roving by and surprising him. That being said it took all his self-control not to circumvent it, to take the easier route that would get him there faster; and he was aware that his anxiety was unusual. Lance just went down to the water, maybe to see family in their seal-form, maybe to just enjoy the surf rolling in.
There were hunters, about.
Shiro almost wiped out sliding down the rocky embankment, forgoing the rest of the trail, he stumbled when his boots hit the sand but he didn't slow down. This stretch of the beach was completely deserted, not that he expected Lance here. He would go to where the cliffs met the sea, where it was secluded and private; and Shiro ran along the edge of the water as the rock stretched high above him.
There was no sign of where they had met, featureless rock and merciless water, and eventually Shiro slowed and stopped, staring at the empty expanse of sand. He'd been so certain that he'd find Lance out here that being proved wrong knocked the breath from his lungs.
Why did he stop here?
Something caught his eye and his nose, the faint tang of copper in the air that spoke of violence. Near the cliff there was blood in the sand, tiny speckles of it, small enough that it would escape a human eye.
Shiro crouched over the sand, put his nose to it; and knew already.
Lance.
He whirled, teeth bared at the sound of feet slapping against wet sand; his attacker was coming from downwind. It was Keith, naked, bleeding. "Two of them," he said, panting, his palms scraped bloody and leaving streaks on his skin when he braced his hands on his knees, trying to catch his breath. "They surprised him, Shiro, I'm sorry, I was too far away-"
"Where?" Shiro said, his voice less a word than a growl.
"I don't know." Keith's voice was ragged, he was still breathing hard, panting loudly. "I followed them as far as I could, I lost them at the main road." He exhaled again, a loud breath as he straightened. "Their plates were local, they couldn't have gone far. My truck's parked outside of town, if we get to it we might be able to catch up with them; I don't know how they knew... "
"It was here," Shiro said. staring out at the ocean. "The poachers were here."
"Shit ," Keith said. He half-turned, leaving a bloody footprint in the sand as Shiro bolted past him, head down. "Shiro!"
Shiro didn't look back.
Fandom: Voltron: Legendary Defender
AU: Nightbreed
Characters/Pairing: Shiro/Lance, Keith
Rating: NSFW/E
Length: 3450
Summary: It hurt, more than he understood, worse than it had Before; when there were bars on the window and a cold concrete floor under his feet.
It hurt, more than he understood, worse than it had Before; when there were bars on the window and a cold concrete floor under his feet. Chest heaving, lying on the ground as the rain came down even harder, churning the blood-soaked soil into mud outside, destroying the traces of their passage, or their current location.
Keith sat beside him, hair plastered to his skull with the rain, naked and bleeding. The wound on his shoulder wasn't fresh, the blood-scent old, but he didn't seem bothered by it or even to notice it. He just sat beside Shiro, brushing his fingers back along Shiro's scalp as he lay panting in the dirt. "It's okay," Keith said, his voice barely louder than the rain pouring down outside. "It's okay.
"I've got you, Shiro."
"Uh ... this isn't what it looks like."
Shiro winced as soon as the words escaped him; because they were trite and campy, not because Lance was standing half behind him naked still and refusing to cover up. He could sense Lance's eyes over his shoulder as he regarded Keith with some suspicion, but Shiro didn't acknowledge the unease that radiated from behind him. His cabin was small and the main room was smaller still, and with three grown men standing in it there was really nowhere for any of them to go. Shiro shielded as much of Lance's body as he could, uncertain of why he was concerned for Lance's modesty when he himself clearly didn't give a shit; but Keith didn't seem to notice Shiro's intention ... or at least, he hadn't yet.
"This isn't what it looks like? " Keith repeated, as incredulous as Shiro had ever heard him. "What am I supposed to think this looks like , Shiro?"
Lance slid his hand over Shiro's bare hip, just above the rise of the pants he had thrown on in haste, and gave Keith a sultry look over Shiro's shoulder. "Yeah," he murmured, pitching his voice just right as his fingers curled possessively over Shiro's skin. "What does this look like, I wonder?"
There was a heartbeat of silence in which Keith's eyes went to Lance's hand before traveling back to Shiro's face, and Shiro didn't bother to try and quantify the expression Keith was wearing. "Okay," Shiro announced, slipping his arm under Lance's and removing his hand from Shiro's skin. "You need to go take a shower and get cleaned up." He turned Lance around bodily, and Lance slumped back against his hands in a visceral, full-body pout. " Go , Lance."
Lance shuffled off with a loud huff of annoyance, and pulled the bedroom door shut behind him - but not without giving Keith a long, final, suspicious stare as he closed it. Shiro groaned and then turned back to Keith, standing the main room of his cabin with a frown and folded arms. "What are you doing back here so soon, Keith?"
"Who is that ," Keith asked, voice flat.
"He's ... it's not important." Shiro pushed his right hand back through his hair and exhaled loudly. "What are you doing here?" There was a stretched moment of tense silence where he didn't relax his shoulders until he heard the shower start up, and then he hung his head slightly and sighed in relief. Keith was watching him with the most suspicious glare and, okay, yeah. He maybe deserved that one a little. "I thought you were headed north to meet with the rest of the Blade."
"I was headed north," Keith said. He cast a glance around the main room, his gaze lingering on the television set but Shiro didn't say anything, choosing instead to stalk past Keith and head toward the kitchen. He needed coffee, damn it. "I was heading up that way until I happened to pick up some chatter about sealers going missing along the coast, suspiciously near here." Keith followed Shiro into the kitchen, stopping in the threshold and leaning his shoulder against the door frame.
Shiro intently ignored Keith as he put the coffee on. He had hesitated a bare moment when he noticed that the counter had been cleared and the dishes he'd left stacked in the sink were washed; all now set in the strainer to dry. He didn't voice his surprise, though, instead opening a cabinet to retrieve a mug. "Coffee?" he asked Keith, but Keith shook his head.
"I told you to stay out of trouble, Shiro," Keith said. "I said there were hunters-"
"Why do you think it was me?" Shiro asked suddenly, staring at the empty mug on the counter. Keith faltered a moment but found his footing fast.
"Why are you disappearing sealers , Shiro?"
"I didn't have anything to do with anyone's disappearance," Shiro said, the casual lie setting easy on his tongue. It wasn't supposed to be this easy to lie to Keith. "I was with Lance all day. You can check with him if you don't believe me."
"Uh-huh." Keith didn't sound at all convinced, which was fair, because he could usually smell Shiro's lies from a mile off. "Yeah, Lance," he said. "Let's talk about Lance for a second, Shiro."
"There's nothing to talk about."
"Like hell there's not. You think I can't smell what he is?" Keith touched his finger to his nose. "You remember what happened the last time you got fuck-all involved with a fae?"
Shiro raised an eyebrow, silent, inviting Keith to complete that thought.
Instead, Keith flushed an angry red and looked away, recognizing the trap when he saw it. "Okay, maybe that was both our faults," he conceded. "But you're playing with fire here, though. How long have you been seeing him?"
Shiro shrugged his shoulders loosely. "Doesn't matter. I can bring home and fuck whoever I'd like."
"Yeah, when you're not bewitched by them."
"I'm not bewitched." The anger itched at the back of Shiro's throat, and he hated it; but he hated more the anger that Keith had in his tone. "You're mad that it's not you." It wasn't a question but a revelation, and there was a moment of stunned silence before he could even begin to regain his footing.
Keith wouldn't look at him, his face turned away and eyes shadowed by his bangs. Damn it . The revelation weighed him down now, tasted of regret more than anything. "Keith, I'm sorry, that was inappropriate-"
Keith pushed off the door frame with his shoulder. "You're right," he said, and his tone had shifted entirely, gone dull. "You can fuck whoever you like, it's not my business."
"Keith."
"I came back to make sure you were okay, and help you get out of town if you weren't." Keith looked around the kitchen, made extra-sure not to meet Shiro's eye as he did so. "The attacks don't look anything like a shifter, hell, they could have been some deranged lunatic with a knife. I would just lie low for a few days, wait for the whole thing to blow over." Keith turned away and Shiro shifted from the counter, pushing off it and intending the cross the room toward Keith.
The wheezing rumble of the plumbing as the shower shut off distracted him, and that allowed Keith enough time to slip away, across the main room and toward the door. "Just do me a favor," Keith said, his hand on the side of the door. "Don't let your fuck toy selkie near the ocean until they've finished their investigation. It'll get ugly, otherwise."
Shiro's heart skipped an actual beat, but he didn't make it to the door before Keith slammed it behind him.
Lance found Shiro sitting on the couch, staring listlessly at the mug of coffee between his hands. "So... what," Lance said, taking Shiro's coffee and seating himself comfortably beside Shiro on the couch. "He an old boyfriend, or something?"
Shiro sighed out a long breath, and let his hands dangle between his knees, as Lance started the antenna scan for the umpteenth time on the television. "Or something," he said, and Lance made a noise of assent.
The night air smelled heavy when Shiro stepped outside to smoke. There was only one light out back of the bar, and a few fat moths flew against it blindly as Shiro lit the cigarette and exhaled a stream of smoke into the dark night.
It was a nasty habit and he abused it only for the reprieve it granted him, taking five minutes out from the dim light and dull music of the bar. There were too many people inside tonight, too many unfamiliar faces and it set his nerves on edge because he knew among those college kids and pass-through truckers were hunters there to avenge the death of their brethren.
He inhaled long and held it, not from the cigarette he held but instead ingesting the cool night air, searching it for hints of the trouble that he knew was coming.
The murders were - unofficially - the talk of the town. As he'd suspected the ocean did not keep her secrets and the bodies had washed ashore in the high tide; pretty much right on the public beach. The men weren't local but they weren't outsiders either, at least two people knew of affairs and spurned women, and the gossip led to a round of head-nodding and murmured noises of affirmation, brushing aside the deaths as nothing more than revenge.
Well. They weren't entirely off the mark - it was revenge , if nothing else.
"You all right?" Matt asked, not for the first time, as Shiro lugged a tub of ice from the back to refill the cooler. He leaned the tub against the counter and braced it with his body, giving Matt a pointed look. "You've been pretty weird tonight, Shiro."
"I'm weird every night."
"No argument there," Matt said, and wiped down the counter.
The danger hung heavily over his head, and Shiro could imagine the rope fraying with every exchange he had. Last call was late, closing was even later than usual; as Shiro locked the employee entrance behind him the first faint tendrils of daylight had begun to creep over the horizon. They were going to milk every last coin that they could from the outsiders and Shiro couldn't blame them for it, but he worried quietly about the man in his bed, and if he would still be there when Shiro returned.
The streetlights were still on, though the sky was slowly lightening. When Shiro crossed the threshold of the town, where the streetlights stopped, a shadow stepped away from a building to walk in the soft grass beside him. "I really thought you'd left town by now," Shiro said absently, not looking directly at the sleek black wolf matching his stride. "Isn't it dangerous for you, to be here like that?"
There was no response, there never would be. Even so Shiro could imagine it, the words curt and snippy, in Keith's familiar, irritated tone. No more dangerous than it is for you.
"I'm perfectly safe here," Shiro murmured, answering the unspoken response, and the wolf snorted and shook his head.
Keith left him at the door to his cabin, slipping back into the darkness rather than accepting Shiro's invitation of an open door. Rose tinted the blue-gray sky, but the sun had not yet broken the horizon and the ground was still dark. Shiro sighed once, and let himself in.
Lance slept still in his bed, one hand tucked against his face and wrapped close to himself. Shiro smiled softly, amazed at how quickly Lance had wormed his way into Shiro's heart ... and he paused, wondering if there wasn't something to Keith's worry about enchantment. But that thought passed as fleeting as it had come on, because as much as he wouldn't admit it to himself he was lonely, and Lance had filled that void in a way even Keith hadn't managed to. Shiro stripped and crawled into bed beside Lance, wrapping his arm around him and pulling him in toward Shiro, pressing his back to Shiro's chest.
Lance relaxed into his embrace and didn't stir, so Shiro nestled his head against Lance's and sighed out a breath, closing his eyes.
"Shiro, it's me," Keith said, hand on Shiro's shoulders, dark hair in his eyes. His face was wrong, different, jaw squarer and eyes set more in his face. It wasn't right, but it was Keith , and he didn't know what to do or make of the hand curling tight on his aching skin. "It's me," he repeated, a tinge of desperation to his voice.
"I've got you."
Shiro woke with Lance's mouth on him, fully roused and halfway down Lance's throat. He let out a small gasp and a moan, rocking his hips in response and Lance hummed out a noise of amusement, letting Shiro's cock slide from his mouth with a wet pop. Daylight crept in through the curtains, he didn't have any idea what time it was. "Lance," Shiro said, voice thick with sleep, his hand reaching for Lance's head.
Lance tilted his head away, a soft smile on his face. "Let me," he said, and dipped his head low again.
He didn't let Shiro come, he climbed onto his cock instead and despite Shiro's hesitation, his worry - Lance slid down on Shiro slow and languid, bliss on his features, like he was made only to take Shiro's girth.
After the first few times he sank down and rose again on trembling thighs Shiro gripped his legs and rolled his hips, rising to meet every drop of Lance's body. It made Lance squirm, his mouth falling open and loosing small, throaty sounds at every impact of their bodies. Shiro came inside, and somehow managed to keep Lance from sinking down onto his knot; although Lance's face expressed clear confusion when he couldn’t sink as far down as he had before.
Shiro pulled him down into a deep kiss and that distracted him, shifting as Shiro's cock slid free with a soft, wet sound.
"You didn't have to do that," Shiro said softly, brushing his fingers through Lance's hair as he lay across Shiro's chest.
"Wanted to," Lance said sleepily, and drifted off again there. Shiro didn't dare move, as that would disturb him, and instead closed his eyes as well, drifting off again, well sated.
When he woke, Lance was gone.
"Do me a favor tonight," Shiro said, pulling on his jacket. Lance had half a slice of pizza hanging out of his mouth, sitting too close to a television screen that was only thinking about the possibility of picking up a local PEG station and hadn't quite committed to it yet.
"Mm?" Lance said, without removing or further inhaling his food.
"Stay in." Shiro said, and Lance tilted his head and finally looked at Shiro, eyebrow raised. "There's bad business afoot, and just ... I can't help you, I'll be at work. If you stay here you'll be safe."
"Safe from what?" Lance said, taking the pizza from his mouth.
"Just promise me."
Lance batted his eyelashes at Shiro. "Of course, husband."
"Cute," Shiro rolled his eyes, but he smiled as well.
I've got you.
Shiro sat on the edge of his bed, and stared at Lance's sealskin.
It hung still on a hook behind his bedroom door, drab military colors brown and green. After staring at it for far too long Shiro stood up and pulled the jacket down, holding it in his hands. Even now it felt like polyester and cotton, the metal of the zipper and the aglets on the hood catching the overhead light.
He knew its true form though, had seen the spotted hide lying in the sand, held it in his hands and even knowing this wasn't a real jacket he still couldn't reconcile one to the other. Shiro turned the material over and sighed, and then lifted the jacket to his face, burying his nose in the collar and breathing in Lance's scent at its most potent source.
With his eyes closed, he could see the ocean.
Shiro jerked his head back and almost dropped the disguised sealskin. He stared down at the material, hands shaking slightly - that hadn't been his imagination, or a memory ... or if it was a memory, it wasn't his. He could hear the waves splashing the beach and taste the salt in the air; the ocean sang a particular haunting melody and that very brief snippet was enough that Shiro could feel the pull of it in his bones.
Of course.
Lance had gone down to the ocean.
Shiro buried his face in the jacket again and felt submerged by it, dragged under the waves of Lance's scent and the ocean itself, but he gleaned nothing else from the sensation and reluctantly surfaced, holding Lance's sealskin tight.
It maintained its form even now, and Shiro returned it carefully to its place of honor, hanging from the hood on the back of his bedroom door. Lance didn't have to hide his sealskin, he trusted Shiro so innately, like he knew Shiro more than Shiro knew himself. He knew he could come and go as he pleased.
Shiro touched the jacket one more time, and then exhaled, opening his bedroom door. He knew where to find Lance, if nothing else.
The late afternoon was cloudy, though there were snatches of blue sky that could be glimpsed every now and then; and occasionally the sun would peek out from behind the cloud cover like a lover shyly parting a curtain. Shiro resisted the temptation to put his nose to the ground and follow Lance's scent that way, instead he took the path they'd traveled earlier, the back way that roved 'round the hillside before leading down to the ocean.
He would fish down here, occasionally. Shiro didn't keep the trail clear, he'd intentionally let it fall into disrepair to discourage hikers from roving by and surprising him. That being said it took all his self-control not to circumvent it, to take the easier route that would get him there faster; and he was aware that his anxiety was unusual. Lance just went down to the water, maybe to see family in their seal-form, maybe to just enjoy the surf rolling in.
There were hunters, about.
Shiro almost wiped out sliding down the rocky embankment, forgoing the rest of the trail, he stumbled when his boots hit the sand but he didn't slow down. This stretch of the beach was completely deserted, not that he expected Lance here. He would go to where the cliffs met the sea, where it was secluded and private; and Shiro ran along the edge of the water as the rock stretched high above him.
There was no sign of where they had met, featureless rock and merciless water, and eventually Shiro slowed and stopped, staring at the empty expanse of sand. He'd been so certain that he'd find Lance out here that being proved wrong knocked the breath from his lungs.
Why did he stop here?
Something caught his eye and his nose, the faint tang of copper in the air that spoke of violence. Near the cliff there was blood in the sand, tiny speckles of it, small enough that it would escape a human eye.
Shiro crouched over the sand, put his nose to it; and knew already.
Lance.
He whirled, teeth bared at the sound of feet slapping against wet sand; his attacker was coming from downwind. It was Keith, naked, bleeding. "Two of them," he said, panting, his palms scraped bloody and leaving streaks on his skin when he braced his hands on his knees, trying to catch his breath. "They surprised him, Shiro, I'm sorry, I was too far away-"
"Where?" Shiro said, his voice less a word than a growl.
"I don't know." Keith's voice was ragged, he was still breathing hard, panting loudly. "I followed them as far as I could, I lost them at the main road." He exhaled again, a loud breath as he straightened. "Their plates were local, they couldn't have gone far. My truck's parked outside of town, if we get to it we might be able to catch up with them; I don't know how they knew... "
"It was here," Shiro said. staring out at the ocean. "The poachers were here."
"Shit ," Keith said. He half-turned, leaving a bloody footprint in the sand as Shiro bolted past him, head down. "Shiro!"
Shiro didn't look back.