1.

Lance slid into the shower in a cloud of wonderfully warm steam. He wrapped his arms around Hunk and closed his eyes against the suds of Hunk's generic shampoo. He leaned against Hunk's back and smiled.

"What are you doing?" Hunk said, fingers still tangled in his hair.

"Conserving water." Lance reached around and grabbed the soap. "Plus, this way, we won't have to take a shower after I ravish you 'cause, hey, we'll be clean already. Also, we won't have to explain any unusual stains. Oh, and you can help me wash my back. It's all really quite logical."

"You're going to ravish me?" Hunk reached down and broke Lance's light embrace. He turned, naked and slick and always beautiful (though Lance would never tell him this), and cleared the soap from his eyes. "What makes you think that I'm going to let you ravish me? Also, what makes you think we'll have the time?"

Lance decided to not go for the obvious point, and stepped in closer instead. "Firstly, I'm entirely flexible on the whole who's ravishing who thing. Secondly, we're going to have more than enough time since I reset Keith's alarm yesterday." Lance leaned up and kissed Hunk, tasting soap and water and mint. "Thirdly, when have you ever turned down morning sex?"

Hunk laughed and leaned down. They kissed again and Lance tasted less soap and more Hunk this time. "You're incorrigible," he muttered, voice rumbling beneath the hiss of the shower, and Lance smiled, secure in the knowledge of imminent sex. "Keith is going to kill us for using up all the hot water."

Lance put his hands on Hunk's shoulders and gently pushed down. He leaned back against the cool tiles and slowly lost himself to the world of the hot water and Hunk's even hotter mouth. "Yeah, well, that's what he gets for oversleeping."

2.

"I'm sorry," Keith said, and he turned on the bedside lamp, completely ruining the mood Sven had tried so hard to set up. He sat up and reached for his boxers.

"What?" Sven stood there, mostly naked and dreadfully confused. "Wait. What are you doing?"

"I can't." Keith pulled the sheets back and slid into bed. "Not tonight. I'm sorry."

"What do you mean, 'not tonight'? What's different about tonight?"

Keith looked over at Sven, who was wearing only black socks, and visibly winced. "It's. Look. You're wearing socks. I can't have sex with a naked guy wearing socks and nothing else. I just can't."

"I can take the socks off," Sven said.

"Yes, but you'll still be the naked man in socks." Keith grabbed his book and flipped to where he'd stopped the night before. "It's just tonight. I'm sorry."

Sven stared at Keith, then sighed and grabbed his boxers. He pulled them on, then sat down on the bed and pulled off the offensive socks. He slid into bed and Keith automatically snuggled closer. Sven stared down at Keith's head and sighed.

"You're very weird," he said.

"Yeah." Keith turned a page. "But you're not exactly the poster boy for normal, you know."

"Hmm." Sven kissed the top of Keith's head and read over Keith's shoulder. "Still. You won't have sex with me because I didn't take my socks off before getting naked?"

"Yes. Deal." Keith put his book down and rolled over onto Sven, warm and heavy. He kissed the side of Sven's neck and yawned into Sven's shoulder. "I'll make it up to you tomorrow. I promise."

Sven reached over and turned off the light. He closed his eyes and pushed Keith's hair away from his nose. "You'd better," he murmured, but his heart wasn't really in it. He thought that this was pretty nice, too.

3.

Pidge made the coin dance across his fingers. It twinkled in the light of the mechanics bay and Hunk was mesmerized. Pidge tossed the coin and it flipped over and over until it landed again on his palm, heads up.

"I win," Pidge said.

"Fine." Hunk unzipped his overalls and stood there, naked and shivering slightly in the cold vastness of the mechanics bay. He was aroused and cold and Pidge was kneeling before him. Hunk kept his hands behind him and tried to ignore the cool breeze of the air conditioning against the saliva slick length of his erection. He gasped and tried, desperately, to lose himself in the hot wetness of Pidge's mouth.

Pidge pulled away and grinned up at Hunk. He stood, took a step forward, pushed Hunk down onto the cold floor. Hunk sighed. The lube felt warm by comparison.

Sweat and sex and grunting. Hunk hoped he remembered to lock the doors this time, but the sight of Pidge's sweat soaked curls made him not care.

He came, loudly, and without embarrassment, shouting his pleasure out to the silent Lions.

Pidge licked up the spunk that cooled rapidly on Hunk's chest and belly. "I like it when you lose," he said.

"Me too." Hunk smoothed back a sweaty curl. "Although, I seem to be losing quite a lot these days. I'm beginning to think that you're using a two-headed coin."

"Me? Cheat?" Pidge grinned, so innocent and it was entirely out of place coming from a post-sex Pidge. Hunk felt his interest stirring, and Pidge felt it too. He crawled off Hunk and went for his clothes. "Ready for round two?"

4.

Keith knew that it was a bad idea but he needed to talk to Sven and he didn't have a whole lot of time. Still, perhaps he should have called first, or knocked before entering Sven's rooms. He stopped in the doorway, errand forgotten, and stared at the scene of domestic tranquility before him.

"Keith?" Sven looked up from his coffee and smiled. "Have you eaten yet?"

Keith had never been very good with scruffy men. A driving factor in his decision to join the GG was that the probability of encountering scruffy men was significantly diminished. Keith stared at the stubble that darkened Sven's cheeks and jaw, and moved the folders he was carrying down to cover his crotch, counting up by prime factors until his heart stopped racing. He took a steadying breath and nearly bit through his lip when Lance wandered into the room, scratching at his stubble and running a hand through his shaggy morning hair, the morning sunlight glinting off his glasses.

"Morning." Lance's voice was rough with sleep, and he fell inelegantly into a chair after dropping a passing kiss on Sven's head. "Coffee?"

"Here." Sven passed the pot over and began to butter his toast. "So. Keith? You wanted something?"

"Uh." Keith licked at the blood that seeped from his cut lip. "Uh."

"Toast?" Lance rubbed at his eyes. He smiled when Sven passed the toast over, and took a bite. The crumbs stuck to his lips and he licked them away. Keith swallowed, and it was really not fair that two men eating toast could make him sweat and tremble so much.

"I." Keith looked down at his folders. "It's nothing. I'll talk to you later."

"Okay." Sven smiled and Keith backed out of the room. Lance waited for the door to click before getting up and crawling into Sven's lap. He kissed Sven, sweetly, full of buttery crumbs.

"Mmm. Strawberry." Lance kissed Sven again and smiled the secret little smile he saved just for the two of them in the morning. "Good morning."

"Hi." Sven wrapped his arms around Lance and smiled back.

5.

This, Lotor reflected, was not going according to plan. Hunk should have been trembling in fear, tears of pain welling in his eyes, mouth dry, body stiff and unwilling. He should not have been smiling and acting like he was lounging about like some over-sexed harem girl. He was in chains damn it all! People in chains should not be able to give the air of relaxed lounging.

"Come on," Hunk said. "I can't hang around all day."

Lotor growled and smacked his riding crop against his thigh. He stalked over to Hunk and glared. "You're supposed to be cowering in abject submission," he said.

"But it's you." Hunk stretched as far as his chains would let him. "Come on. My arms are getting tired."

"Fine." Lotor pulled off his pants and grinned. This would properly awe Hunk, he was sure of it.

"My God," Hunk said. He leaned forward, eyes wide in surprise.

Lotor smirked. "Now do you feel like cowering?"

"You're not circumcised." The chains creaked as Hunk moved. "I've never seen an uncircumcised one before." He looked up at Lotor and grinned. "Can I play with it?"

"Oh for crying out loud." Lotor pulled his pants back on and unlocked Hunk's chains. "Come on. If you're not going to take this seriously, then we might as well not do it at all."

Hunk wrapped his arms around Lotor tight enough to make Lotor squeak. "Aw please?" He slid his hands down into Lotor's pants. His fingers, though blunt, were skilled and they played down the length of Lotor's cock like it was a particularly tricky piece of machinery that needed to be tweaked into place. "It'll feel nice. I promise."

"I don't care." Lotor tried to push away and felt the first stirring of panic flutter in his chest. "You've ruined the mood. Now let me go."

"Hmm." Hunk's voice rumbled through Lotor's back and he nipped Lotor on the shoulder. "Maybe we should create a new mood."

Lotor sighed. He knew his current ire was melting away, that the anticipation of tonight had eroded his self-control until all he could think about was fucking Hunk. They had spent too long casting longing looks and flirting with obvious double entendres to let tonight pass by because Hunk wouldn't play along.

"Fine," Lotor said. He turned around and let Hunk kiss him, gently.

Hunk pushed back a lock of Lotor's hair, white and soft and heavy, and stroked Lotor's cheek. "Good boy."

6.

Pidge had had too much to drink and, as was generally the case when he was overly intoxicated, he'd fallen asleep mid-way through the dessert course. He snored softly over his slice of pie while around him the conversation and clinking of coffee cups made a dull roar. Keith watched Pidge over the edge of his coffee cup, smiling a little. The kid was cute, there was really no denying it.

"Oi," Lance muttered, jabbing a sharp elbow into Keith's side with deadly precision. "Are you just going to let him sleep like that?"

"No. You're right." Keith put down his cup and stood, smiling apologetically to Allura. "Sorry. I'd better take Pidge back to his room."

He picked Pidge up deftly and carried him out of the room, cradling the smaller boy to his chest. Pidge woke when Keith put him down on the bed, blinking slowly in the dim light.

"Keith?"

"You fell asleep at the table." Keith pulled Pidge's boots off and began unbuttoning his pants. "I thought it'd be best if I brought you to bed."

"Oh." Pidge reached down and ran his fingers through Keith's hair. "Well. Since you're down there..."

"I'm not going to give you a blow job, Pidge." Keith folded Pidge's pants neatly and put them down on the dresser. "You're drunk."

"So?"

"So I'm going to have sex with you while you're drunk." Keith returned to the bed and began to unbutton Pidge's shirt. "Now lift up your arms. I can't undress you if you're lying down."

"You'll undress me while I'm drunk but you won't fuck me? Yeah. That makes a lot of sense." Pidge snorted, but did as Keith asked. He put his arms down and pouted at Keith. "Well why won't you fuck me?"

"Honestly?" Keith pulled off his own clothes and placed them neatly next to Pidge's. "Because, quite frankly, when you're drunk you're really, really bad at sex. You always come to early and you have a tendancy to fall asleep in the middle."

"Oh." Pidge blinked, closing first one eye and then the other, as if closing both simultaneously was too much of an effort. He yawned broadly and fell back, his head thumping against the pillow. "Okay. Goodnight."

Keith smiled and climbed into bed with Pidge. "Yeah. Goodnight."

7.

The building shook and Keith's hand slipped. The knife he was using to shave made a neat slice in his chin before Keith could steady himself, and he cursed, softly, pressing against the shallow cut in an effort to stem the blood. He stood patiently, waiting to see if there would be another shock, but the world remained steady, so he began to shave himself again. Slow, smooth strokes; first the right cheek, then the left, then his upper lip and finally his neck and chin. Just like how his father taught him, and if he was using a bit of polished steel and a knife instead of a mirror and a razor, that was all right. It was still something mostly normal and Keith would take anything resembling normalcy at this point.

Keith wiped the foam and hair from his blade and readjusted the bit of steel. He heard the door open behind him and he turned, knife at the ready.

"Hey Skipper." Hunk closed the door behind him as Keith turned back.

"Hunk." Keith lathered on some more foam and raised his chin. "We're in the land forces now. You shouldn't call me Skipper."

"What's a harmless eccentricity between friends? Besides, you're still my Captain." Hunk took the knife away from Keith. "Here. Let me." He ran the knife gently down Keith's throat. "So. I heard that you're going back to Space."

"Yeah. The Brass handed me my orders last night." Keith spoke quietly, barely moving his lips.

"I know. I read them." The soft shick shick of the knife as it ran over Keith's skin was loud in the little room. Hunk maneuvered the blade around the lump of Keith's Adam's apple. "Congratulations."

"Thank you." Keith tilted his head until he could look at Hunk with a reasonable amount of comfort. "You should be receiving yours today." Hunk's hands stilled and Keith smirked, a little. "What? You thought I'd be stupid enough to go back without the best mechanic in the 'verse? You thought I'd just leave you here?"

"It's been a while," Hunk said. He wiped the blade off and began shaving Keith again. "I don't know if I'm still the best."

"Are you going to watch my ass? Are you going to make sure that I'm well protected when I do stupid, heroic things?" Keith caught Hunk's nod out of the corner of his eye. "Then I don't see a problem. Besides. It wouldn't be right if you weren't there. Who else can I trust?"

The building shock again, harder this time, the shell having landed closer to them, and Keith stumbled into Hunk, who grabbed him instinctively. Plaster dust rained down around their ears and in the quiet aftermath, Keith's high, wild laugh was shockingly loud. "See," he said from the confines of Hunk's arms. "What would I do without you?"

Hunk tightened his embrace, briefly, then released Keith. He wiped the plaster off of his shoulders and sighed. "Well. At least it'll be quieter."

8.

"Baruch atah Adonai Eloheinu melech ha-olam Asher kideshanu b'mitzvotav Vitzivanu L'hadlik ner shel Chanukkah." Lance lit the stub of the candle carefully, shielding it from the cold wind that snaked by him. He held it carefully to the other candle stubs, whispering the prayer as he moved along his makeshift menorah. "Baruch atah Adonai Eloheinu melech ha-olam Sheh'asah nissim la'avoteinu Ba-yamin ha-heim Ba-z'man ha-zeh." He lit the last of the candles. Their flickering glow made shadows dance against the opposite wall. Lance sighed and lent his head back until it hit the cold wall of his room. His yarmulka slipped and Lance straightened it, pushing it back into place.

"Lance? What's with the candles?" Keith's voice was loud and Lance jumped, knocking over the second candle. The flame spluttered and went out in a pool of wax. Lance snatched the yarmulka off and stared up at Keith; for the first time in his life he was at a loss for words. "Lance?"

"I." Lance straightened the candle and fiddled with it. He relit it and kept his eyes down. "I was just."

"It's okay." Keith closed the door behind him and came over to Lance. He sat down, quietly, and watched the flames dance. "We missed you at dinner."

"Yeah. This. It's just something I had to do." Lance put the yarmulka back on with almost defiance. "It's Hanukkah. If I didn't do this, my mother would know."

"I understand." Keith snuck his hand into Lance's.

"How? You're an atheist."

"Valid point." Keith kissed the back of Lance's hand, remaining entirely unruffled. "But, I get it. You're homesick."

"Yeah." Lance took the yarmulka off again and fingered the gold thread that made geometric patterns all around the edge. "Y'know, right now, my family is probably trying to avoid eating my Mom's latkes." He smiled, sad and slightly wishful. "My Mom's latkes are terrible. My Dad is probably giving his yearly lecture about how Hanukkah is really a celebration of the Jewish ability to pinch a penny. And everybody is avoiding the word Temple, since nobody wants to listen to Rabbi Liberman drone on about--" Lance paused, and his smile took on its usual impish quality. "Y'know. I don't think I've ever learned what it was that Rabbi Liberman spoke about." He sighed. "I hated this when I was at home. I hated learning Hebrew and I hated stuffed cabbages and I absolutely abhorred Temple. And yet."

"It's okay." Keith stroked Lance's hair with his free hand and leaned against him. "It's nice. And it's normal. And--"

"If you say sweet I'll hurt you." Lance's eyes twinkled when he spoke and Keith smiled.

"Fine." They sat, quietly, lit by the glow of the candles. Lance gently put his head down on Keith's shoulder. "Happy Hanukkah," Keith whispered. He kissed the top of Lance's head and snaked his arm around Lance's waist.

"Yeah."

Voltron
Feed Todesengel