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Paint the Walls, Feel the Bass, Crave the Taste

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The place was packed out, buried deep in the warehouse district downtown. The front door was a knocked out wall that haphazardly opened out to a narrow walkway between thrumming metal sheets and sluggish briny water from the city's canal. The drop from the walkway to the canal was at least ten feet, and when the place was between hours stoners and burnt out dancers would sit between the parapet bars and hang out over the loam with distant looks in their eyes.

 

The actual building was old and shut down, the front doors barred with plywood and caution tape. But the actual shut down had happened almost a decade ago, and rumor has it that Someone bought it out for the aesthetic and that’s why it was never repurposed. That and it was a shitty warehouse next to the canal with too many issues to fix.

Lance adored it. The aesthetic, the smoke that slowly piped out from the broken windows that crowned the warehouse's roof, it caught his eye one day while working the river and he’d been drawn in ever since. From a distance, you wouldn’t be able to see the bright neon lights and strobes that had been DIY’d installed into the building. But up closer, you saw the glass and the cracks in the walls shimmer and shake with hues and splashes of bright hot white light.

 

Something about it sung to him and beckoned him to come and shelter away from the dark and twisted things the city was slowly poisoning him with. He dreamt of the ocean and woke up to train tracks...and then the torture of being so close yet so far day in and day out...it was ruining him. Eventually...he snapped.

 

The first time he ever actually went in was maybe the greatest three seconds of his two and then some decade old life. It was after hours, somewhere between days and days on end of tedious work and lingering looks at the mystery warehouse. He had walked around the building in a pair of sweats and a salt-stained hoody until he found the stragglers on the corner, pot-smokers and tipsy lovers pushing the metal walls back-and-forth. They coaxed him in, friendly hands extended joints and closed capped bottles and urging him across the slick concrete until he came to the Door.

The door itself is tucked into a shed. With old weather rotted boards and wood and probably termites. There is no door on the shed, but there’s usually a guy here sitting on a stool playing lookout or mock bouncer depending on the occasion. For Lance’s first time, it was both.

Big guy, with muscles that made his shirt seams scream in pleasure. He looked Lance up and down and smirked, shaking his head.

“Might wanna tie that to your waste kid, it gets hot in there.” he winked at him and moved to slide a hand through the old rainbow-colored beads hanging off the jagged door frame. “Don’t take anything open, don’t take anything in a package. And don’t start something you can’t finish”

After registering what might be the most badass cover speech of infinity, Lance nodded and walked through the beads, the faint whisper of fingers brushing his back as the man let the beads fall back down.

Inside the music was so so much Louder. From the walkup, he could feel it, bass humming through concrete and asphalt and make the walls shiver. But somehow they did an incredible job of soundproof because actually getting into the place made his skin break out into gooseflesh and his breath hitch.

 

That’s why no one ever heard anything- floor to almost ceiling walls boxed the place in. Heavy stuff that was strung up and splattered with neon paints and blacklight fairy strings. The walls must have been the real soundproofing, and the only privacy the place had. Lance looked left and right and noticed the occasional sliding entryways, DIY screen doors. Every few seconds people would go in and out, and he watched a couple stumble through the door and go down the hall towards the far corner, the guy's hands were sliding into his girls pants and then they were out of sight in the darkness. Lance imagined that if he were a little braver, he could walk one way or the other and get an eyeful of something that could only be cooked up with drugs and smoke and liquor and hard lights and heavy bass.

 

He wasn't very brave though.

 

After tying off his hoodie to his waist and exposing his bare shoulders and tank-binder combo to the sticky warm air, he walked to the nearest screen door and went inside.

 

No, not Brave at all.

But a little wild.

 

Inside people were swarming. The lights tonight were bright green and blue and it looked like he was swimming in the deep end the way the lights reflected on the walls and people.

Lance let himself get carried into the current, let someone paint his body with day glow orange and a bright pink ‘NO’. He let someone kiss his neck, let someone else slide against this back

He let himself drown...and he hasn’t come back up since.

 


 

It was almost a year since, and Lance found himself losing it to the city.

He hated his job, he hated being so far from the REAL ocean. He worked with freight all day and his muscles ached so badly…

So when the weekends came around, and the neon signs of the city lit up the pavement- he locked his logical mind away and made the jog downtown slowly, letting a heavy blanket sink over his shoulders.

He adopted a new face for these nights, painting his eyes and lips. He had gold and navy blue scales that trailed from the corners of his eyes and down the subtle curve of his neck. Hidden under his jacket was a soft and flowy crop top over his galaxy binder, and wherever there was skin he had painted on more scales. They glittered and sparkled with special glitter and day-glow paints. He liked to think he was a mermaid, going from land to sea every weekend.

When he got to the warehouse, he saw some familiar faces at the corner. He still wasn’t convinced  Pidge was old enough to even know about the place, but they always had the best shit in their pockets and Lance loved watching them dish out a profit completely straight-faced and sober. What an entrepreneur. Hunk was there for the music and beer, but he looked like some kind of bodybuilder with his height and muscles and sometimes Lance caught himself drooling. Wasn’t his fault though! Hunk was just the right level of big and soft and whenever Lance got there he would pull the lankier man in and kiss his cheek with a wet smack.

Tonight was just the same, and Lance laughed at the slight blue smear at the corner of his mouth, which is exactly why he didn’t put the scales any lower. He ditched his jacket with Pidge and followed Hunk inside, taking his time in greeting the normal doorman with a ‘Friendly' kiss.

 

Inside, the theme must have been Hell.

The walls were shaking, and Lance saw a lot more people pushing each other into the dark hallways and one couple barely even made it down the hall before they were sliding to the floor backs the wall and the smaller guy straddling the other's waist. Lance let out a wolf whistle and they snapped up to flash him a finger and a whistle back respectively before going back to their dry humping.

The lights were dark red and gold, and the strobe light was making him sway into the crowd with ease. Hunk was with him at first, pressed into his back and using his big hands to pivot and push Lance’s hips around. Then he was caught between Hunk and another guy with equally manipulative hands.

The music was suped up tonight, a thick and heavy bassline that rattled his teeth. He was being pleasantly crushed and then he was standing in the sticky air by the “bar”.

The bartender was maybe less than qualified, but they made some killer ass mixes and Lance knew he should be more careful...but the guy handed him something gold and sparkly and called it “Ichor” and he couldn’t resist...his week had been so shitty and he just wanted to let it go...let it sink into the canal and drown.

 

With the large rimmed bottle pressed to his lips, he looked around the swarming room. Lots of skin tonight, and they had set up the pole stands on little stages so beautiful men and women and everything in between was spinning above them with their slick skin on open display.

He watched one of his favorites, a dark-skinned woman with the most luscious white braid and baby pink mask, she was always there and he almost suspected she actually worked here somehow. She wore loose corsets, and when she slid down the pole to her knees he caught a flash of dusty rose peeking from the hem and his mouth watered.

They’d fooled around some, just once. He’d been brash and wild and offered her a dance off the pole. She’d laughed at him, and he thought it was over..but then she stepped down with her long legs and soft skin and pressed against his chest like a panther to a tree. She smelt like expensive perfume and tasted like cider and umami when she pulled him behind the screen doors...Lance wasn’t always so weak...but when she had them out of sight and had gently touched his shoulders….

Lance fell to his knees and prayed at her feet.

She was busy tonight though, in her zone...and he had only just arrived so he wouldn’t bother her any more than looking her up and down-

 

The Downstroke. That's always what gets him.

 

Standing at the fringe of the mass, between slick and panting bodies and shimmering hair…

There was a guy standing perfectly still.

Everything was red and gold and swirling together, but this guy managed to stand out.

He was pale, alabaster and smooth and if this was Hell then he was a fallen angel and Lance was helpless to watch his back stand steadfast against the current.

He had raven black hair, pulled up into a loose top knot. And where his skin wasn’t showing, he was painted in black. Lance wasn't lying about the angel bit, he had wings painted on his back. Wings and an intricate design carving up his spine and over his shoulders. Lance wanted to trace them with his pinky, dig into the meat of his shoulder and watch him flex the wings out…

And then he turned, and Lance felt himself melt a little further into the deep end.

The guy had sharp angles everywhere, in his hips and cheeks and his nose pointed up like a permanent sneer. Lance needed to see more...he needed to like he needed to breathe.

 

Lance wasn’t a brave man...but he was lucky.

 

Downing the rest of the Ichor, he threw the bottle away and slide into the waves again, this time like a fish to a lure.

His own choice of paint must have stood out enough- because Wings glanced at him and did a double take. His eyebrows rose a slight inch and he looked Lance up and down before smirking. Lance took it as an open invitation and personally transplanted himself into his space.

The music has heavy and loud and there was no way they’d be able to hear each other, so Lance took that excuse and pressed into his side to get close enough to be heard.

“Hi there Tall, Dark, and Handsome.” he purred. He felt the guy laugh and a hand rested on his hip carefully. Lance appreciated that the guy had some foresight to mind boundaries.

“Hi yourself” he felt breathed into his ear and he sighed, oh he was fucked...and wanted it.

 

He took the chance to get a better lock, and he found himself frozen. The guy had scars, neat and smooth that went under either side of his chest. There was ana che somewhere deep in his own chest that shook him so fiercely he swayed a little. Wings caught him, a hand on his waist and a hand at his abdomen. “Easy there..” he thought he heard and could only nod in response.

The guy narrowed his eyes and locked him over again. His eyes trailed down the scales and paint and focused in on the obvious binder, then he smiled softly and nodded.

“What’s your name man?” he called out and Lance hummed before pressing his lips close to his ear.

“Lance, Just Lance.” He added a little puff of breath and felt the hint of nails at his side and it set his skin off like a firework.

“Keith.” was pressed into the shell of his ear and it was his turn to press his palms into skin and muscle. Lance kneaded at his shoulder lightly, the other one was tracing over the lines of dark ink, NOT paint, that dipped into Keith’s collarbone.

Lance awed and Keith seemed to preen, so Lance took it and ran. “I love all this...you look fucking amazing man.”

Keith grinned, and Lance took note of the slightly too-sharp look of his canines with interests. “Thanks, Lance,” he said it sweetly, like poison, and Lance smiled sweetly back. Keith’s hands trailed up his sides and his neck to lightly feel at the scales near his eyes,”This is really cool...do it yourself?”

 

Lance nodded and turned his head this way and that to show off his long neck and the paint job. He’d perfected it over the weekends.Keith watched and used his hand to grip Lance's chin and push it upwards, Lance swallowed and felt eyes scorching him. Jesus...something about this guy made him feel like he was being appraised for a sale…

And then there was a hand lightly wrapping around his neck and his knees gave out.

Keith caught him easily and that wasn’t helping with the matter at hand. He took Lance’s reaction as an obvious cue and continued to stroke his pulse with his thumb while he pressed his fingers into the soft muscle of Lance’s neck.

“You’re real pretty…” he felt it kissed to his ear and he whined.

Brave...or stupid?

 

Lance dug his nails into the guy’s shoulders and felt the hiss of air against his cheek. Then there was a smile being pressed into his skin and he shivered.

“Let's go dance…” he couldn’t hear his own voice. He didn't think he would recognize it if he did.

Keith must have heard him though because he let go of his neck and took his hand to lead him right into the heart of the swarm.

 

The mass parted and petted at their skin lovingly. Skin to skin and the occasional sharp cry of ecstasy surrounded them. But Lance felt like he was trapped in a whole other world. Somehow, even though they were being pushed and pulled by almost a hundred different bodies, Keith managed to box Lance in as his own. He slotted Lance against his chest with ease, a hand on either side of his back and gently coaxing Lance to rock against his body with a leg experimentally between his knees. Lance whined again and sunk into it, wrapping his arms over Keith’s shoulder and tangling a hand into the loose knot of his hair. He fit his hips to Keith's and let the other man’s knee fit snug into the cleft of his legs.

 

Lance was already breathless, and not just from the heat rolling off Keith’s skin.

He didn't know if it was natural or a packer...but something firm and strong was pushing against his hip and Lance wanted to rub against it like a heat-struck feline.

Keith seemed to notice and he felt the man Laugh against this shoulder before there were lips trailing over the skin. It was divine, to be so fully encompassed in someone’s attention. If there were other hands that tried to pet at Lance’s hips or ass, he either didn’t feel it or Keith was deftly swatting them away.

 

They glued themselves together, letting the wave wash over them and letting the suddenly small space press into their bodies. Keith lead, rocking them together and grinding Lance against his body. Lance eagerly returned the moves and danced his hips in tune with the faster beats whereas Keith followed the slow bass tones. He realized very quickly that he was frantic, manic, dancing his crotch against Keith’s knee and whining every time Keith made a sudden move and forced the friction to stretch out.

Keith was panting against his throat, then teeth were fitting into the tendon and Lance started swearing.

He muffled himself by fitting his lips over Keith’s shoulder, licking at the ink and tracing it with his tongue until it dipped to fur to reach. Then he went back and sucked dark roses into the pale skin. He let his eyes slide close and imagined that he could feel that solid point of pressure at his hip growing and get hotter and hotter.

 

Then there was a hand feeling at his stomach and the muscles jumped. He hummed and Keith reciprocated the noise with a soft moan. Nails tracked down his stomach and Lance twitched against his partner's knee. Then Keith was feeling at the hem of his binder gently, sweetly. Like he knew exactly how far to push, and how to pull back. Lance vaguely appreciated it.

But then those clever and hot hands were fitting against this ass and moving his hips how Keith wanted.

“Shit!” Lance followed the motions and panted harshly. He was wearing a pair of light blue jean shorts, with frayed edges and the word ‘Proportionate’ stitched across his ass. One of Keith’s hands slid into his pocket and ground them together while the other danced across the stitching and gently kneaded at the soft flesh that peeked out from the hem. He pushed and pushed until Lance was happily hiking his leg up his hip and now they were grinding crotch and crotch and Lance forgot how to breathe.

Oh. THAT’S what he had in there…

 

Lance let out a little sob and sank into Keith’s arms, who easily hefted him up and kept them grinding and ebbing with the music. Lance honestly wanted to sink to his knees, right there in the middle of the floor and he wanted to get a better look…

He felt Keith’s chest rattling with a laugh. And with some semblance of mortification realized he had said that out loud.

He curses, and in his mother’s tongue he spits out, “ You try to get fucked by a guy looking like the human form of a god with a dick to match..”

 

But, to his even GREATER mortification- Keith paused and tilted his head, some loose hair falling down his forehead.

“I'm not used to that dialect..but you wanna fuck me?” he starts smirking.

So the fucker knows Spanish...good Spanish too…

Fuck.

Lance whines and shudders, he’s not brave...but his sweating and pulsing and the music is driving him closer and closer to the edge and he aches .

“I need you to start touching me pretty boy…” he breathes into Keith's ear and bites down on the shell.

He feels Keith's chest vibrate with a fucking growl - and then there are hands spinning him around, his back to Keith’s chest. “Pretty little fucking mouth you got there..” Keith purrs into his ear before returning the favor and sucking at his earlobe.

Lance gaps and arches his back, but a hand on his chest keeps him centered and the hand that’s holding his waist is strong and steady.

 

Lance is trembling, he’s face to face with the entire room and people are raking their eyes up and down his stretched body. He sees men obvious paling at themselves, women with their hands dipping and gripping at their thighs. He feels like he’s been put on show...and he fucking loves  it.

Something hot and slick whips through him and he moans, broken and stammering and his hips snap back to grind against Keith's dick. The man mimics his gasps and grinds back, his hand sliding from Lance's chest to fit his forearm neatly across his collar.

The swarm is moving in now, and Keith seems to be allowing it because it makes Lance squirm and moan and whimper against him. The music changes, almost like it’s being tailored to their little show. It feels like a pulse is lancing through the air, light and bouncy and floating...and then the deep red and gold are being replaced by a darker red and the darkness of night while the strobes go off in abundance now.

As the lights fall, Lance feels fingers slide into his shorts and he melts.

 

There are bodies surrounding him, and he can’t really see them as much as he feels them. Warm slick bodies that fill his palms and then disappear and its never clear what kind of body he’s feeling. All he knows is that Keith is palming him through his briefs and he can’t stop whining and cursing.

Then there are breasts being fit to his pal, and a familiar fabric rasping against this fingers. He feels her long hair stick to his sweat-slick stomach, and he feels her hands sliding down the skin, one wrapping around Keith’s wrist and the other working the button of his shorts open.

They’re talking, whispering to each other….or kissing…

And then she’s kissing him, tongue hot and strong and opening his mouth up to a hot and loud kiss. Lance sobs and she swallows it down.

 

There are lips against his ear again,”You want me to touch you, baby?”

He barely hears it but nods, he nods frantically and curses when Allura bite his lips and the throbbing makes him ache even more.

The hand palming him moves and it slides between the restrictive elastic of his briefs and the muggy stick of his skin. Two sets of hands are working over him, and two pairs of lips are sucking his skin and biting into his shoulder and then there are fingers sliding against him and he bucks wildly.

 

He feels hot breath panting into the back of his neck, Keith is rocking his hips against Lance’s ass in time to the music, but his fingers work on their own tune.

They dip between his skin, palm fitting snugly against the mound of his flesh and a thumb slowly, agonizingly slow, works over the nerve of his dick. Then tow long and clever fingers are sliding into him and Lance wants to scream but Allura is counting his teeth and forcing him to gasp into her mouth.

Lance is frozen between them. He’s helpless to their rhythm as they rock and grind and pull him back and forth. Keith works his fingers into Lance at a steady and slow pace, Allura is coaxing his hands to knead at her exposed breasts. Lance is sinking and drowning and dying in the pleasure of the slick grind.

 

Then the thumb on his dick presses down and the two fingers become three and they hook upwards. Lance screams.

All around him, there are echoes of his pleasure. And when he can get his sluggish eyes to open he sees countless bodies colliding and sliding together. The aftershock of his and Keith's dance that has left the building quaking.

He sees Hunk, with a pretty pretty woman mouthing at his neck and sliding her hand into his pants, Hunk’s eyes floating between her and Lance and locking eyes with his friend before winking and thrusting his hands into the woman’s panties.

 

Lance wants to scream again, he wants to beg and plead and sink to his knees for these two hellish angels that stretch and pull him apart. Allura is raking her hand through his hair while the other works inside of her own underwear, and he can feel Keith trebling behind him...but he wants more. He NEEDS more.

It’s like restarting his brain, rebooting his system and coming back into reality with sharp clarity. He snaps his hips just to feel the sting of Keith’s fingers snagging inside of him. He cants and swivels his hips until his given the right message, and then the fingers uncurl and start pumping into him with more earnest. It’s a tight space, and they don’t have enough room for this. But Lance gives it his all anyway and desperately tries to bounce on Keith’s hand.

Lips lock against his shoulder, a thumb is vigorously rubbing his dick and pressing down Hard and he’s starting to see stars but Lance doesn't let up. He moans and whines and let the noises sink into the throng of shuddering bodies. He doesn’t let up until teeth are digging into the tendon of his neck and Keith is using his slick fingers to rub at Lance’s dick until he really DOES see stars.

He can feel how wet he is, can feel it staining his underwear and feel it sliding up the crack of his ass, he feels out wet Keith's fingers are as they jack him off and rip the most exquisite orgasm from his core. Keith is panting and whining and cursing into his shoulder and Lance closes his eyes and lets his whole body go with the orgasm, forcing the other two to hold onto him. He hears Allura shriek and cry and feels his rubbing her clothed clit against his knee, and Keith is just desperately holding onto the both of them or else they’ll fall and be crushed by the suddenly climatic crowd.

 

People all around them are grinding, the bold with their hands occupied and the few even bolder as to slide just enough cloth away to sink into the flesh. There’s no way in hell this is legal...or allowed..or should be...But Lance Doesn’t Fucking Care.

Allura is pulling away, and the hand is leaving his briefs and his not being buttoned u but he is being bundled off, hands petting against this skin and lips kissing his shoulders as he’s maneuvered out of the crowd. He rides his afterglow and hangs onto his grounding source of hot hot flesh.

They pass hunk, he stops them and presses a hot open-mouthed kiss against Lance’s pliant lips. Hunk is sweating and panting and there’s an obvious stain smearing against his pants, and the girl seems to be swaying on her feet with heart eyes.

It feels like forever before Hunk lets them go, and then more hands press and pass them off until the screen door clatters behind them.

 

It’s darkest here, at the front of the warehouse and tucked at the very back of the party. Scattered across the floor is all sort of paraphernalia and clothing, and some loveseats set up in the small space are occupied with couples riding each other with little shame to who might see them. Lance watches enraptured as a woman sits in a chair with her legs spread over someone's shoulders, her back arched and thrown back in agonizing pleasure while her hands pull and wrench at thick black hair. She’s caught in a breathless scream, and Lance wonders if that's what he was doing…

 

But all thoughts leave when he’s been shoved against the cool wall, his back making a soft thud. Hands grip his waist and neck and hot bruised lips catch his.

Keith kisses the way he fucks it seems, with abandon and want and passion all mingled together. Lance hold son and kisses him back, kisses him like it’ll put air in his lungs.

Keith is slick against his palms, and Lance lovingly traces his scars and muscles and he takes a fistful of his pants and brings their hips back together again, grinding his slick crotch against the hard pressure of Keith’s groin.

Keith is panting, trying to say something..but Lance has had enough of everyone else getting a word in. He knows exactly what he wants right now…

With a smooth push and coax, he has Keith’s back to the wall and his legs spread just enough for Lance to gracefully kneel between them.

He can feel the music humming through the skin of his knees, but he’s more focused on the thrum inches away from his face.

 

With his own nimble hands, Lance unbuttons Keith’s skinny’s, tugging them down so that the hem is just cupping his ass. He palms the rigid shape that makes his mouth water, one of Keith’s hands is carding through his hair while the other slides down his inked and smeared stomach.

Lance watches, awestruck, as Keith slides his hand into the boxers and eases out a dark marbled cock. It’s too dark to see, but its long and curved subtly and Lance makes a long keening sound.

Keith is looking through a mess of hair, thick and black and fraying this way and that. Lance looks up between his lashes and willingly opens his mouth an inch or so, pliant and ready…

Keith huffs, smiles, and carefully heads the head of the cock into Lance’s mouth.

It smells like silicone and hefty musk. It’s so smooth against his lips and tongue, and Lance languishes in the novelty of having the strapon sliding into his mouth. It’s natural, as natural as a fake cock can be. And Keith seems content enough to watch him slowly take it in. Even though the guy is squirming against the wall.

 

Lance hollows his cheeks and pushes his head down, feeling the soft slide go across his tongue and push down until he’s breathing through his nose harshly.

He squirms himself, readjusting on his knees. He sets on hand at Keith’s hip and the other wraps around the base of the cock. He pulls up until the head is fit between his lips. He makes sounds that even he would be embarrassed by, slurping and sucking and lathering attention to the cock. Keith chokes out a moan and suppresses the buck of his hips, But Lance smirks around the cock and slides back down until he feels it presses against his throat. He sucks, and the noise is loud and hot and Keith makes a sharper noise before his hips snap and Lance gags as the cock slides into his throat.

 

Keith backs off enough for him to breath, but Lance encourages him to come back. To fuck into Lance’s mouth with a steady rocking motion. Lance feels his  hair getting pulled, and then tugged sharper when he pushes the cock all the way back into his throat and makes this keening sound like his found heaven.

Keith for his part looks mesmerized and dazed, wide-eyed as he watches Lance swallow down his cock and gag on it happily. Then he pulls back and bobs his head some, slurping and sucking and moaning around the firm silicone. Keith’s chest is heaving, he mumbles and murmurs and now Lance can really hear him…

“You look so fucking hot...sunk to your knees….fucking your mouth with my dick... trying to make me cum down your throat..” Keith is growling and writhing and his exposed thighs tremble.

 

Lance hums and nods, then he pulls all the way off and pants. “Or you could paint my face~” his voice is shot, from his early screaming and the dick sucking it's hoarse and gravely and so so very male it makes him shiver.

He grabs both of Keith’s hands and puts them in his hair, then he swallowing down Keith’s dick in one fell sweep, moaning and panting and sucking and urging him to snap his hips and fuck the cock deep into his throat until the skin pulls taut.

Keith sobs, his hands taking fistfuls of hair and holding Lance's head down while he gags, then he’s pulling himself back, stomach shaking and thighs quivering...but Lance now’s he’s not there yet.

Keith pulls him off the floor and kisses him. He licks into his mouth sloppily and harshly, they meet skin to skin again and Lance lets him fuck his mouth his tongue. I and out and roughly sliding against his teeth. He’s sopping wet now, can feel his thighs sliding together. He needs it, he deserves it.

Lance moves until he has his elbows braced on the wall and Keith is behind him, then he cants his hips and wiggles them, throwing a smirk over his shoulder, “Come on then pretty boy...fuck me with that cock…”

 

Lance….is...not brave….

But he is Wild.

Keith it seems, is just as wild.

 

He moves in, slots himself against Lance and shudders. He fumbles with the shorts until he has them slid to his calves, his briefs quick to follow.

Lance should feel ashamed, should feel disgusted doing this so openly, where he knows someone is watching…

But when looks back, when he sees Keith watching his slick thighs and breathing so heavily…

When he looks to the side and sees that woman from before… her fingers pumping into herself and watching them with open lust…

 

Lance lets that last piece of himself sink away.

 

He reaches back- pushes his thighs together and coaxes Keith to slide the cock into the tight squeeze. Keith murmurs and shakes and immediately starts rocking.

Lance huffs and shakes as well, turning to put his forehead to the wall and taking deep breaths.

“Fuck! Fuuuck come on...oh..it feels so good Keith…” he pants and coos. He flexes his thighs and rocks them in time to Keith’s shaky thrust.

“I love the way your cock feels...sliding against my cunt…” he whimpers and circles his hips.

His voice isn’t much above a whisper, but Keith reacts like Lance just screamed. He whines and presses forward until his bare chest is pressed to Lance’s back.

 

Lance imagines that he can feel Keith twitch between his thighs he keens and arches his back, tilts his head to get a sloppy kiss.

“Come on and fuck my baby. Make me scream again..”

Keith looks like predatory, eyes fully blown and teeth bared...and shit those really ARE sharp. They have to be veneered because they catch the light and now Lance can feel the divets in his shoulder...he feels them again because Keith bites at his shoulder and neck while Lance relaxes his thighs and spreads his legs.

 

The cock goes in slick and easy, and Lance yelps because he can feel the gush of slickness pool off of it and run down his thigh. He’s so wet and hot and loose that he feels like maybe he’ll melt into the wall.

And the Keith starts to fuck him.

The first snap is hard, and it makes Lance spread open and take the full cock in one slide. He cries, and Keith presses his smirk into the abused skin of his tan shoulder. With one hand, he slides around to circle and rub his dick, while the other comes up to loosely wrap around his neck again.

 

Lances will swear that at that moment, he sees the face of God

And then Keith will start fucking his dick in and out, silicon tugging at his cunt and wetness sliding down his thighs..and Lance will know this is no angel fucking him.

Keith is wild, and he fucks quick and fast and hard. He presses all the way in and rocks Lance up, making him reach and grasp at the hand at his throat and the wall while Keith slowly pushes him upwards until he’s holding Lance on the cock by his own strength.

 

Lance sees white and the pressure is so exquisite and painful and full, that hand frantically rubbing his dick makes him choke and an orgasm goes searing through him. His legs tremble, and he can feel himself tighten around the strap-on. His whole world tunnels down into the feeling of his core being ripped open and the pressure forcing his vision to go hazy.

He hears Keith sob out a moan, feels his hips shaking and trembling and snapping around. Keith is sweating bullets and flushed beautiful, his eyes wide and mouth hanging open in his own silent pleasure.

 

Lance comes back down with his afterglow leaving his quaking, he glances back at Keith and then to their little voyeur…

The woman looks shell-shocked. Her hips twitching and thighs clenched around his wrist.  She’s looking at them with all the wonder in the world and Lance feels the attention go straight in the aftershocks rocking his dick and cunt.

 

Keith comes down slower, and he takes his time in sliding the cock out of Lance. It's dripping with slickness, and Lance takes a second to imagine is really cum, and that the wetness dribbling down his thighs is Keith’s claim to him tonight…

Lance doesn’t bother to right himself before he’s turning and kissing Keith. This time is sweeter and slower, passionate and sure. Keith melts into it, slick and sticky hands holding his face and when they part they breathe each other's air for a solid minute before either move.

 

Keith helps pulls Lance’s clothing back up and into place, Lance casually tucks the strapon back into the boxers and zips him up with a smirk. Keith’s body is pulsing and humming with a brilliant flush, and Lance’s feels it mimicked by his own. He laughs though when he sees the blue and gold paint smearing across Keith’s chest and stomach, his mouth covered in the thickest print.

Keith just rolls his eyes and tugs him in by the hips for another kiss.

When he talks, it’s quiet and soft and Lance feels himself give in before he even registers what’s being said.

“Come home with me…” is pressed into his neck, his cheek, his ear.

“Come home with me...I don’t want this to be over yet….”

 

Lance feels Brave with Keith.

 

He agrees, of course.

“I need to find my jacket...my thighs look fucking dirty man.” He’s laughing and grinning and lacing his fingers with Keith’s as they manage the floor back to the screen door.

On the way, the stranger grins and whistles, she offers a hand that Lance lets his palm slide against,”You boys ever looking for some easy work...give me a call..”

There’s a neat little business card in his palm and Lance has no fucking clue where she was hiding it…

 

He scans it over while Keith leads them out, and it’s got something about  Adult Entertainment for All Kinds. With a neat little row of gender symbols lining the top. He’d throw it away...except there’s a picture of a lighthouse and waves that make up the logo of ‘Aphrodite's Den’. It’s cliche as fuck but he giggles at it anyway and slides it into his pocket.

Outside, the air is considerably cooler. It sticks to Lance's sweaty skin and he breathes in the brine with a soft sigh. Keith gives the bouncer a fist bump, and then he’s leading them out over the walkway and around the corner.

 

Pidge is still there peddling their goods. They get a good look at the pair and start cackling,”Of course you’d find each other eventually…”

Keith grins and ruffles their hair before giving them a hive five,”Tell your brother he owes us for dinner next week. Shiro is still pissed at him…”

 

Pidge rolls their eyes and shoves them off,”Fuck off Keith...and Matt will be there right on time. Bring Lance to dinner.” They wink at him and hand off his jacket which he promptly wraps around his waist.

They walk down the pavement hand in hand, one of Keith's arms snugly fitting over Lance's shoulders. Lance still feels like he’s floating, and he catches Keith giving him these smug but lovesick looks.

And of course, Keith rides a fucking motorcycle.

It sleek and pretty and Lance wants to sit on it and feel it purr . Keith proceeds to fish out two helmets and before Lance can get his own he’s being pinned to the propped up bike and his mouth is being claimed by Keith’s. It’s smooth and easy like he’s kissing someone he’s known his whole life.

 

Keith backs off and smirks, a hand coming up the trace the faint bruising on Lance’s neck and then the obvious bite marks and hickeys on his shoulders.

“Your real fucking pretty..” he says, slurred and slow and come drunk, still floating the same high as Lance.

Lance just hums and kisses his fingers before hopping onto the bike and patting the seat in front of him,” Says Pretty Boy over here…”

 


The ride is smooth and fast, Keith seems to have a theme.

 

His apartment is tiny, definitely someone making bare minimum but not worrying. It’s filled with memorabilia and knick knacks and music devices. His food is hot and Lance has missed good spiced meats, and he knows its genuine because there's just this presence of culture surrounding Keith’s place.

He’s got family photos, lots of them. He takes great care in how he orders them.

One of a man with the same dark features next to a woman with the same sharp angles. The man looks southern, and the woman looks Spanish. Lance smiles and remembers his own mom…

 

But then it’s back to business. Softer though...because Keith slides his arms around Lance's shoulders and sways them to a slow beat coming off the record player in the corner. He kisses Lance's neck and hums and Lance feels the vague warning bells going off- the ones telling him that he’s going to fall to quick and too hard…

But he’s still riding that high, and his face is still painted on until he washes it off the next morning.

Keith doesn’t seem so bold once Lance has him on the bed. He’s shy and cautious… asking what Lance likes and what he doesn't and if it’s okay to take off his binder because he’s worried Lance will strain himself.

 

Those warning bells are screaming at him, but Lance silences both with a soft kiss.

Bells be damned...if he can have this he’ll fucking take it.

They strip down to the bare facts.

Lance is shy about his binder being off, Keith seems hesitant to act without the strapon to lead the way.

They knock into each other, clumsy and curious.  Like Keith hadn’t just fingerblasted him in front of a rave, like Lance hadn’t just let him fuck him to hell and back in front of a stranger.

It’s slow and steady, and Lance smiles when he gets Keith flat on his back with his legs spread.

“Why the wings..” he asks, lowering himself to lay on his stomach in between Keith’s legs.

Keith huffs and tangles his hand into the sheets, the other playing with Lance’s hair. “When I was little...I thought  I could fly. It became my life...I’m studying astrophysics and piloting...I thought that if I had them on my back..that maybe I could use them someday.”

 

Lance pauses, tracing the jut of Keith’s hips and humming. He kisses the smooth skin and feels the pulse beneath jump.

“You fell from the sky pretty boy...and you’re going to get back up there..” he whispers and something shifts. Something personal and sincere and neither know what to do with it.

So lance opts to say nothing else, instead, he’ll make Keith sees some stars.

 

He swipes his tongue over the seam of Keith’s cunt, and the other boy whimpers and bucks his hips. Lance smiles and kisses his thigh before going back and licking more broad streaks. 

Keith swears, in Spanish, in English, in something else. He swears and squirms and Lance eagerly fills the space.

He pushes two fingers into Keith and spreads them, works them in and out and hooks them until Keith sobs for more...please…

Lance nods, he starts to really pump his hand while his tongue dances over Keith’s dick. It’s hot and musky and Lance is practically purring as the large nerve bundle twitches in his mouth against the flat of his tongue.

He works Keith over fast and hard, pushes him into a gut-wrenching orgasm and then milking it for all its worth until Keith is bucking off the mattress and squeezing his legs around Lance's head. Lance holds on and keeps going, over stimulating him until Keith is sobbing and screaming. It’s what deserves after giving Lance two of the most amazing orgasms of his life.

 

Afterward, they catch their breath and breath each others scent in. Keith is warm and musky and smells like spiced cologne. Lance knows he smells like pricey perfume and thick creams, and he can feel the difference between their skin...Keith is raspy against his soft soft hands.

 

Then, when Lance doesn’t think he can take anymore...Keith is moving him up the bed and swinging Lance’s leg over his head.

Lance cums screaming, high pitched and almost a shriek as Keith eats him out, tongue fucking him thoroughly and smoothly and hands bruising his thighs…

After that..it becomes a hazy blurry mess of skin on skin and hot kisses and whispers pressed to throats and thighs and chests…

 


 

Lance wakes up.

He’s sore, he’s filthy. His thighs feel sticky and his crotch feels wrung out. When he sits up, he winces and feels the ache in his back and neck. He doesn't recognize the room right away...but the bed is soft and the sheets feel nice and warm. He almost wants to go back to dreaming...but the smell of coffee and food draws him out with the top sheet draped over himself.

He gets to the closed door and smiles. Theres a post-it-note, in dark blue.

 

Feel free to use the bathroom and shower, left some of my clothes in there for you. I cleaned your binder and it’s drying right now- sorry ha… -K

 

Lance turns back around and dives into the bathroom to see the damage.

He’s bruised, he’s marked. He’s got paint smeared every which way, his eyes look crusty, he looks exhausted.

He hasn't felt so calm in months. So in the moment.

 

Keith’s shower sucks ass, but it gets the paint and residual stickiness off and Lance relishes in being clean. The clothes are just as soft and Lance feels like Keith has a real big budget set just for soft things. Lance doesn’t fill them, the shirt hangs off his shoulder and the pants fit low. But he takes it because they smell like Keith and feel safe.

Keith looks equally exhausted. Sitting at the nook in front of the fire escape. He’s nursing a cup of coffee and his own lovebites. His hair was down and fell against his shoulders in loose, thick waves. But he looks sleepy and content and before Lance really knows what he’s doing he slides into his space and drapes over his shoulder. He’s so warm...so the tank makes sense. And it lets Lance trace the tattoo with fond eyes.

Keith smiles and set the cup aside before pulling Lance sideways into his lap, ”Good morning gorgeous…” he hums and kisses him, sweet and chaste and shy. Lance tells the bells to fuck off, and he lets himself consider waking up to this more often.

 


 

He does. He does often.

Instead of hiding away in the warehouse, slaving himself away to music and bodies...Lance starts joining a new group.

 

Granted, three of the five to six group members have either fucked or almost fucked each other...

And Lance was still trying to convince Keith to let him climb Shiro like a fucking mountain…

But they melded together. And Lance found himself...finding himself. Filling the gaping hole he thought booze and bass could suffocate.

 

They still go back. They all do. It’s business and pleasure all wrapped in one.

But now, Lance is Brave.

He gets his fill of salt and heat from Keith, and it makes that deep ache of homesickness and anxiety melt away. Until all that’s left is something soft and subtle and safe. And Lance can be more than Brave, he can just Be.