seven scenes that might have been

7.

It was dark in the shadow of the castle, down where the rose bushes ran wild, their flowers small but pungent and their thorns long and sharp and red-tipped as if they had been dipped in blood. Keith tried not to let the thorns prick him or Lance as he worked his way down Lance's body, savoring the richness of Lance's skin.

"Taste like smoke," Keith mumbled between kisses. "Smoke and leather and salt and earth and you. Wish you'd been on the menu. Would have gorged myself."

Lance sighed and blushed and wondered what Admiral Hawkins would have said if he'd lain down on the banquet table. Keith probably wouldn't have found it so very amusing; he didn't like to share.

Lance was sure he looked perfectly debauched with the shirt to his dress uniform bunched up around his neck, the jacket cast blindly aside, the pants opened and pushed down just below the bottom of his ass, his flushed skin exposed to the incurious stars. His eyes were mostly closed, clouded with lust, mouth just open. One hand rubbed a nipple while the other gently urged Keith lower and lower until the hot velvet of Keith's mouth encased the pulsing hardness of Lance's cock and he arched and cried and dug his fingers into the soft earth. He was inarticulate in need, lost in the feeling of Keith's mouth and the smell of late blooming roses. He gasped as he came and through closed eyes he could see all the stars in the sky.

Keith made a soft contented noise as he sat up and licked his lips and Lance wished the whole universe could see the look on Keith's face right now, the smug, mischievous smile, looking for all the world like the cat that had eaten the canary. He looked nothing at all like the stoic captain of Voltron, the perfect G.G. solider.

He looked beautiful and impish and little fey in the blue light of the moon.

"You're beautiful," he said, spontaneous in his pleasure.

"You're blissed out on sex," Keith replied, but his ears reddened a little. He rocked back on his heels and Lance took this as his cue to move forward, turn sitting up into an invasion of Keith's personal space, forcing him to lie down. Lance's hands went to the button of Keith's pants, but Keith stopped him, pulled his hands away.

"Not now."

"But--"

"They'll miss us soon." Keith slid away from Lance and looked up at the Castle, where the lights of Hawkin's party could just be seen. He pulled Lance up and when he stepped away he looked like the perfect soldier once more, neat and orderly and expressionless. Lance would have been annoyed, if Keith hadn't kissed him, fiercely, and then brushed the dirt off of his jacket and straightened his gig-line.

"I love you," Lance whispered, and he blushed and looked down as he said it.

"Love you too." Keith kissed him again. "Someday, we'll be able to spend the entire day in bed. No parties, no Admirals, no Princesses. Just you and me and a great big bed."

Lance smiled and when he slid his hand into Keith's, Keith held it tight, like he would never let go.

6.

"Ah! Ah!" Lance moaned and Keith took it as a sign that he was doing something right. He thrust again and latched onto Lance's mouth, hissing as Lance's nails dug into his shoulders. Keith thrust harder and his bed bumped against the wall and he was really quite glad that it was Lance's room that was next to his. He liked being able to be loud and rough without worrying about who was listening on the other side of the wall.

He was close and he wanted Lance to come with him so he somehow managed to get a hand between their bodies, wrap it around Lance's cock. The sweat made it easy to move his hand up and down the hard shaft and the look on Lance's face was more than enough to send him over. He thought he screamed when he came, but it may have been more like a squeak, his throat constricting in sympathy with his loins.

When his limbs stopped feeling like they were made of lead, Keith reached over and grabbed the washcloth he had wisely placed on the bedside table at the start of the evening and wiped them both off. Lance was already asleep and Keith was vaguely shocked to find that he thought it was cute. He should have been annoyed, particularly with the way Lance sprawled across the bed, mouth open, drool already starting to pool on Keith's pillow.

Keith shook his head. He must be in love if he thought that was cute. And a little bit pervy because, damn it, he was getting turned on. He wanted to wake Lance up, do more sweaty, naked things. Instead, he fished out his cigarettes and went to the window, threw it open. He perched on the sill, the metal cold against his sweat slick skin, causing him to shiver. A movement on the lawn caught his eye and he looked down. All he registered was a flash of blond and pink before whoever it was (as if he didn't know) vanished into the woods, but that was enough. Keith groaned and looked at the bed, at the perfect, messy man who was beginning to be snore. He really wanted to crawl into that bed--after a smoke, of course--but Allura, the woods, and nighttime was a proven recipe for disaster.

He sighed, stepped away from the window and began to look for his pants.

5.

Keith leaned against the wall, and let the shower run down his body. It felt good to wash the grime and sweat of honest work away. He barely noticed when Lance entered the temporary showers they'd installed in their temporary locker room (and that was a blatant lie because he always noticed Lance; he just didn't get an erection this time and he thought that showed quite a bit of growth on his part), whistling a jaunty tune. Keith took a moment to listen and realized, suddenly, that it was in fact 'Whistle While You Work'. Which was sick and wrong on Lance's part because now Keith was having dirty thoughts to accompaniment of a venerated Disney tune.

"Lance," Keith said in greeting and he turned the temperature on his shower down. He shrank from the water and felt goose bumps form on his skin. He was pretty sure it was the water and not Lance's presence. And then, because he felt like more words were necessary, "That stadium is going to be finished soon."

"Yup." There were soft noises, the sounds of Lance getting ready to wash himself off, and then a sudden breeze played across Keith's skin. Keith washed the soap out of his eyes and turned around to see Lance standing in the door to his shower stall, aroused and smiling in a suggestive manner.

"Lance?" And this was new, this open acknowledgement of the budding, physical element of their relationship.

"Need someone to wash your back?"

4.

Lance couldn't breathe and yet his chest was heaving. Black spots swam before his eyes and all he could taste was blood and dust and bile. It was strange, this sickness he was feeling. He shouldn't have been as affected as he was. He'd seen death before, seen victims of land mines and grenades, of firebombing, of radiation poisoning. He'd seen mangled and mutilated bodies, heard the screams of the wounded and dying.

Sven wasn't hurt all that bad. It wasn't even fatal and Sven was unconscious, so there was no screaming. There was just a lot of blood, blood mixing with the dust, creating a crimson paste that clung to everything and stuck in the back of Lance's throat.

There was a wetness on his face and Lance looked up at the sky, thinking that maybe it was raining, but no, it was just his tears. Hot and salty and bitter and why was he crying? Why was he feeling so cold and shocked, when Sven was going to be fine?

He felt a warm body close behind his and when he turned and caught a sight of Keith's raven-black hair it made him feel even worse, because he was so happy that Keith was nearby. He shouldn't be feeling happy about his budding romance, shouldn't be aroused with Sven still here, unconscious, strapped to a gurney.

"It wasn't your fault," Keith whispered, and his hand made comforting circles on Lance's back.

"That doesn't make it better."

Keith nodded and Lance leaned into Keith's body, and the black spots went away.

3.

The Lions were slow and heavy and the only person who seemed to be having any fun was Lance, who was going too fast and making reckless decisions. Keith sighed and rubbed the bridge of his nose. "Okay. Let's form Voltron. Nice and easy, guys."

"Roger, Wilco." A burst of static and then the Lions began to climb into the sky, and Lance was still going too goddamn fast. There was going to be a collision, Keith knew it, and he sighed, again.

"Abort," he growled and pulled out of formation and he couldn't take any more of this. "Look. We're done for today."

They took the Lions in, Keith growing more and more pissed off. He pulled off his helmet, threw it into Black's cockpit, stomped down the corridor between the Lions and the Castle. What in the world was that idiot thinking about?

Keith grabbed Lance, slammed him against the wall. He was hot and tired and this was the third practice that Lance had screwed up. "What the fuck do you think you're doing?"

Lance laughed and pulled his helmet off and unzipped the top of his uniform. Sweat streaked his hair and when he smiled, his eyes crinkled. "Just, y'know, working all of the kinks out." Lance pushed Keith away and stretched. He winked at Keith and patted his cheek and started off down the corridor. "You should try it some time."

"Don't walk away from me, Lance. We're not done here." Keith grabbed Lance's arm and pushed him against the wall again. He moved to block Lance in, moved in on Lance's personal space. "Now, seriously. What the fuck do you think you're doing? Why the hell did you ignore my orders?"

"Keith. Relax. We'll be fine."

"No, we won't." Keith poked Lance in the chest. "Somebody could have been seriously injured because you were off in your own little world, doing your own little thing, especially if you do that in battle. Or worse. You could have died. Do you get that? The lions aren't toys."

"Yeah well. Live fast, die young. That's the way to go, right?" Lance shrugged, starting to feel a little uncomfortable. He looked down, away from Keith. "I mean, that's why we're here, right? Because we're young and stupid. We volunteered for this gig, after all."

"We're not here to die." Keith pressed in closer, his breath hot against Lance's face. "I want to be able to go home. I'm not here to watch you die, Lance." He kissed Lance, sharp and fierce and slow and wanting. He pulled back, a little, stroked Lance's face. "Try living slow and dying old for a little while, okay?"

2.

Keith couldn't sleep. He was afraid and worried for his men and this wasn't the way he'd anticipated his first solo command going. Yes, getting all of his men killed was exactly how he wanted to start off his career. Although it wasn't like he had much of a career to care about anyway, since they were going to die here after all.

"Fuck." Keith put his head in his hands and tried to think. How the hell was he going to get them all out of here?

"Keith?" Keith picked his head up and started a little, because Lance was suddenly there in front of him, eyes tired and full of concern. "You okay?"

"Yeah. I." Keith pulled away a little, feeling skittish and uncomfortable because he was so attracted to this man and he couldn't be. Not only would this get him kicked out of the G.G. but this was, well, Lance. Lance who'd been the drunken idiot that made a scene at graduation by barfing all over the Admiral's shoes, Lance who had only just managed to not get kicked out of the Academy, who was a great pilot but reckless and stupid and entirely the wrong guy for Keith who was thoughtful and diligent and by-the-book. Anyway Lance was the straightest man Keith had ever known. "What are you doing up? You should sleep. Keep your strength up."

"Ever consider taking your own advice, mon Capitaine?" Lance blinked, slowly, and leaned against Keith.

"I'm too worried," Keith said, and he wished he could have taken the words back.

"You'll think of a way out." Lance yawned and drooped lower, until his head was resting in Keith's lap. "You're smart."

"Go to sleep." Keith reached out, tentatively, and brushed some of Lance's hair back. Lance sighed and closed his eyes and Keith smiled.

He felt oddly hopeful.

1.

Lance dropped down into the big leather chair and spun it around. Comfortable. Nice. Which had to mean that he was going to get screwed more than he had thought on this mission. The Brass never reserved the nice conference rooms for their basic peacekeeping missions.

"Oh." Lance looked up at the noise and grinned at Keith, who had stopped dead in the door, clutching the mission briefs tight to his chest. "Uh. You're early."

"Yup." Lance leaned back, took in Keith. He'd seen him around sometimes, always reading, attractive in that smart boy way though he'd never dated anyone so far as Lance knew. He'd made a bet with Sven about Keith's sexual orientation; his money was on asexual. Lance wasn't very surprised to find out that Keith was the C.O for this…thing. "Didn't have anything else to do."

"Oh. Well. Here." Keith slid a brief down the table. "Read up."

Lance picked up the folder, peered at Keith over the edge.

Mmm. Yummy, he thought. And then he did a mental head slap because this was a bad idea, bad, bad, bad idea. He should not be lusting after his C.O. It was reckless and stupid, and damn him he was going to do it anyway. Because he was reckless and he was stupid.

Ah well. At least he was consistent.

Voltron
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