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*********
Cravings
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Note: The last statement in //'s is lifted verbatim from Todesengel's
"Bad Habits"
The wind roared in Keith's ears as he began his headlong flight off the
towering precipice into a canyon of self-destruction, or maybe it was
simply the rush of acid-hot blood pounding through his veins as Lance's
softly spoken answer-
//"No."//
-sent him firmly over the edge into new and unfamiliar territory that
was as frightening and exhilarating as the old. He'd asked the
question and he had his answer, but even knowing finally that things
could never be wasn't enough to quell the exquisite melancholy. The
more animal part of him wanted to flee from the implied danger that
single simple word held for him, for *both* of them, but the human in
him objected the notion with a vehemence that was surprising. There
was no escape, no turning back, and ready or not he had to deal with
this now.
A thousand "if only's" flew past him as the ground sped towards his
wide-open eyes and the burn of need for nicotine, for alcohol, for
anything that would speed his path to oblivion was choking him.
Courses of action, things he should say, things he should do to ease
the unbearable tension in Lance's stance as his friend- and now only
his friend for all time and forever- stared sightlessly down into the
same rain barrel that had so captivated his own attention and started
this whole damn mess. Yet he did nothing. He couldn't force his grasp
to close on one of the options, to pull reason out of the mad collision
course into chaos. He couldn't comprehend anything other than the rush
of the fall and the certain pain and humiliation promised at the end.
The moment stretched on and on until time threatened to buckle under
the strain, and then finally the tension crescendoed as both of their
beepers went off, shattering the icy heated silence with a new brand of
demanding need.
Lance jumped, whipping around to stare at Keith with wide accusing eyes
as if holding him personally responsible for this intrusion into his
own personal hell before sense returned and they were both running.
Thoughts of each other and answered questions and unbearable cravings
faded away as the promise of fulfillment of the ultimate addiction sang
through their veins. They skidded into the control room, Keith barely
holding on to the illusory air of command that came at these moments
under a wave of unbridled longing as he met the bright shining eyes of
his teammates. They were five and they were one, souls drawn
inexplicably towards the adrenaline rush of promised destruction, of
speed and fear and excitement and that insatiable need that drove them
before all others.
The rush began as always, the gentle tug of anticipation and the
slightest tinge of nervousness before the blood began pumping and
thought dissolved under an incandescent burst of emotion much as
inhibitions burned to dust under a lover's caresses. There was the
speed and the battle, the blood and the screams, and finally the
terrifying invigorating climax that left the world of the every day a
dull and lifeless void in comparison.
Then as always it was over and reality came screeching home with a
crash, dividing the one back into five as the lions disconnected and
began the flight home. Voices volleyed over the radios in joking tones
that were slightly too forced to be real. The tremor and the need for
the next rush, the unacknowledged presence that spoke to them as one in
the back of their minds screaming for *more* was shoved under the
seething surface with the shaky hands of an addict desperate for one
last hit no matter what the cost. When they landed they separated,
each of them needing to be alone to bask in the afterglow and struggle
with the withdrawal as the now-familiar pain of dissolution engulfed
them.
So it was that Keith found himself once again on the Castle battlements
overlooking the darkening gardens as the evening drew towards a close
and the spectacular rays of the setting sun painted the indigo sky with
streaks of vivid color. He stared down blindly into the shifting
shadows in the gardens as the battle itself began its long trek down
into the hidden shadows of his mind, gradually being replaced with the
more mundane cravings of daily life. Feeling empty, he reached into
his breast pocket and pulled out the crumpled pack of cigarettes,
regarding the shiny packaging that shimmered with the promise of
fulfillment in the fading light.
It was beautiful, he decided, and a perfectly fitting way to die.
Another battle to be fought, though this one with demons that couldn't
be defeated with anything so physical as a shiny sword blazing with
fire and the incessant cry for blood. He pulled the pack open, letting
the sweet herbal scent of the dried leaf wash over him, and reached for
a light as the need to forget became drenched in an almost palpable
wave of anguish.
//"More. Speed-screams-death-more-NOW--"//
//"No."//
The last silent word cut through the adrenaline in a burst of pain even
more profound and breathtaking than the physical craving. He closed
his eyes in acknowledgement, bending over with his hands resting gently
on his knees as he replayed every moment and reviewed every nuance of
Lance's expression as if seeing it for the very first time.
Lost in a world of yearning, he was totally unprepared for the slender
hand the appeared from the shadows and removed the manifestation of his
upcoming fight with death from his laxening grip. Keith gasped and his
eyes shot open as his earlier wish for Lance to save him from the
rounds of his deadly addictions- from himself- slammed home. Silently,
unable to utter even the token protest that seemed to be resting on the
tip of his tongue, Keith stared upward with mingled hope and despair as
Lance tilted his head to the side, his hair sliding forward and
shielding his expression as he regarded the infallible evidence of
Keith's newest addiction. Keith held his breath, wanting to plead like
a child and wanting to scream with frustration, knowing somehow deep in
the hidden part of his soul that if Lance took this away there'd be
nothing left, nothing at all now-
//"No."//
-and he truly would plunge off that promised abyss where nothing was
left but that terrifying voice demanding more. Words tumbled over each
other like eager puppies in his brain as he took a deep breath and
prepared to say anything at all, anything that would stop Lance from
shattering him beyond recognition.
"Shut up, Keith."
The words broke through the building hysteria and brought his mind back
together in a heated rush, and his vision faded in and out as his world
struggled to right itself once more. Lance ignored him, sliding down on
the edge of the battlement next to him and dangling his long legs over
the edge as he pulled a cigarette from the pack and lit it with a
lighter hidden in his other hand without so much as a sideways glance.
Keith watched in fascination- freed from responding once again by
almost careless words fueled by a bottomless well of pain and hurt that
Keith ached to cure despite everything- as Lance leaned back against
the cold stone and pulled the smoke deeply into his lungs, letting his
eyes slide shut. The red glow from the burning ash painted his golden
skin with fire.
Keith tore his gaze from the suddenly nearly irresistible beauty of
Lance's face- //the soft curve of warm skin and chestnut hair, feathery
lashes sparkling with tears and hot, pink mouth open and seeming both
erotic and innocent//- to the pack resting on his knee and snatched it
back. Still feeling dangerously off-balance, he leaned against the
battlement for support and put a cigarette to his lips, pilfering
Lance's from the long fingers resting almost negligently against one
leg to light it before returning it to Lance's lips with what could
only barely be considered a caress. Lance met his eyes and Keith
almost shied away from the suddenly erotic intimacy of that gaze, the
hazel burnished dark gold by the fading rays of the sun despite the
well of darkness that seemed closer to the surface than it had this
morning. It was a look Keith understood, one he often saw in himself
when he looked in the mirror.
Relaxing suddenly, Keith took Lance's free hand in his own in the only
embrace he had the strength to offer, smiling slightly as the other man
tightened his own fingers in response, and leaned back to stare at the
column of smoke as the last dying cry of the recently attacked village
floated across the fire of the setting sun.
**********
Disclaimer: Voltron does NOT belong to me. If it did, the series would
be much more interesting and most certainly not Y-7. I'm relatively
sure that WEP would be horrified at what I'm doing to their property.
You won't tell, will you?
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