homebound.

or:

there was a nice happy fic in progress and then, suddenly, whoa! sex!

Despite what everyone thought, Keith did not have only one set of clothing. True, most of his closet space was taken up by that hideous red jumpsuit, but that didn't mean he only owned hideous red jumpsuits. It just meant that he had hideous red jumpsuits in his closet, which made sense because as ugly as they were, they were also comfortable, and cheap, and easy to wash, and surprisingly tough.

In his dresser, though, he had regular clothing, like jeans and shirts, and sweats, and some not-so-regular clothing like those leather pants he used to wear back on earth when he really needed to get laid. And, yeah, so maybe his dresser was only a quarter full, but that still meant that nobody could say he didn't own normal clothing.

He just, sort of, preferred the ugly jumpsuits because they made Allura get this vaguely disgusted look on her face and kept her from clutching him too close.

But today was too nice, too casual, for the jumpsuit, so Keith was garbed in a collared white shirt and a pair of jeans, because that was Keith's way. Even when he was dressing down, he still looked better than the rest of his team, who were currently decked out in ratty shorts and t-shirts with huge holes in them. They thought it wad because he was an anal-retentive neurotic, which was kind of true. Mostly, though, he wore the jeans because he didn't really like wearing underwear all that much and if he wore shorts like the rest of them, they'd find that fact out a wee bit too quickly for Keith's comfort.

They were dead on about the shirt, though.

Keith sat on a tatami mat he'd brought with him from home for days just like these, back against the rough bark of a handy tree, and watched his team over the rim of his book. There was a rather enthusiastic game of volleyball going on a few feet away, with Lance and Allura pulling the short end and having to be shirts, while Pidge and Hunk had stripped to the waist as skins. Although, in Allura's case, the only real difference between what she looked like as a 'shirt' and what she would look like as 'skin' was the fact that she has a blue sarong wrapped around her waist. Keith watched her surprisingly well developed bosom bounce about in the surprisingly tiny bikini top. It was quite…mesmerizing in a sick, perverted fashion. If he had been into girls, he was sure he would want to fuck her. As it was, he did kind of want to touch her breasts, just to make sure they really were au natural.

A sudden shout broke his bouncing breast induced trance and he was treated to a rather nice view of Lance's ass as he stretched up for a spike. Keith smiled to himself. And they wondered why he didn't want to play.

Another shout, and Lance was sliding face first toward him, the volleyball bouncing unchecked for the water. A splash and then the ball was slowly floating away. A large, loud ruckus started up as the three remaining players began to argue over who had to go fetch, but Keith didn't really care about that right now because a very, very cute looking Lance was practically lying in his lap.

Keith put down his book and smiled his best 'look-how-fuckable-I-am' smile. "Hey there."

"Hi." Lance spit out some grass and smiled back, his face flush from his recent exercise, dirt smudged on his cheek. He was brown and lithe and all sparkling eyes and tousled hair. So fucking adorable.

"What's the score?"

"We're winning. Hunk keeps getting distracted by Allura's breasts." Lance glanced at the trio whose argument had degenerated into Hunk throwing Pidge and Allura into the water. The soggy pair was not pleased by this sudden turn of events and, if Lance was any judge, Hunk was in some minor trouble. "I think we're done, anyway."

Keith chuckled at that. "So, should I be cheering for the conquering heroes?"

"You can if you want." Lance pushed himself into a sitting position and rummaged through picnic basket they left with Keith. "Orange?"

"Thanks." Keith pierced the tough outer layer with a nail and gentle mist sprayed up into the air to settle on Keith's still pristine white shirt, and glisten in his raven hair. He peeled the fruit quickly, neatly, with all the juice still contained in the plump flesh of the orange. Lance found himself staring at Keith's long, sticky fingers and wondering what Keith would do if he took one of those fingers and put it in his mouth.

He took a slice of orange instead.

"What'cha reading?"

"Nothing interesting," Keith said. He pushed the book towards Lance. "Just some trashy mystery novel."

"Mmm." Lance stole another slice of orange. "So, Mr. Tons-o-fun, is that all you're going to do today? Read a trashy novel and eat fruit?"

"Yup. But maybe I should go stop the fracas before it gets out of hand."

Keith stood and stretched, taut belly thrust out, and Lance suddenly realized two things. One, when Keith stretched, his just-a-wee-bit-too-short shirt rode up and his pants hung a little lower about his hip bones so that Lance could see the dark line of coarse hair that began, shadow-like, at his belly button and traveled downward until it disappeared beneath the waist band of his jeans. Two, Lance really, really wanted to lick that thin line of hair until it hit Keith's cock and then, well, they'd go from there.

His mouth was actually watering at that thought.

"Lance?"

"Hmm?" Lance looked up, squinted slightly against the sun that lanced through a gap in the tree's canopy, then squinted some more because the sun turned Keith's shirt more or less transparent. Christ, he wanted to fuck Keith.

"You okay?"

"Sure. Help me up?"

He held out a hand, and Keith pulled, and Lance used that movement to lean into Keith and start kissing him. Soft at first, and then insistent as Keith kissed back. He pressed forward, pushed Keith back against the tree, captured him between his arms. Keith tasted of oranges and sun and sweat.

"Wait, wait." Keith pulled back and Lance thought if Keith said that this was a mistake, he was going to scream. But instead, Keith said, "Not here. Come on."

Lance pulled away, reluctantly released Keith who grabbed the tatami mat and Lance's hand and led the way into the woods. A strange, barely audible world closed around them, filled with the soft rustling of living things, and damn but even that was turning Lance on. He looked over his shoulder often, and the instant he couldn't see the lake, he pushed Keith up against the nearest tree and stuck his hands down Keith's pants.

"Hello!" Keith squeaked as Lance's hands found Keith's cock. Lance pulled back for a minute.

"You're not wearing any underwear," he said.

"I know." And then Keith's mouth was on Lance's again, and quite frankly Lance didn't care that Keith had no underwear because it meant one less layer between them, and they were sliding down the tree trunk, Lance unbuckling Keith's pants and exposing him to the playful breezes. Keith shivered.

"Lance," he whispered. "Lance."

Keith's shirt was almost off now, pushed up and out of the way, and Lance was licking his way down his Captain's chest, kissing the soft hollows of Keith's flesh and sucking on the hard ridges of his ribs.

"Oh God, Lance."

The other's tongue had found the silken-coarse line of shadowy hair, and Lance teased Keith, kissed his way down the path and then back up. He could feel Keith trembling beneath his lips feel his longharddampwet length. The soft flesh of his head was slick against Lance's throat, wet with precum, and as he hummed his pleasure he felt Keith twitch in response.

"Please. Please."

Relenting, Lance kissed his way back down, ran his tongue over the rough dark hair that surrounded Keith's cock. He licked the hot velvet of Keith's cock, felt the thick, pulsing veins in all their minute detail, wrapped his tongue around the whole length and then he had Keith in his mouth, and Keith's hands were tangled painfully in his hair, and there were soft, incredibly dirty noises coming from his mouth, and Christ, this wasn't anything like the only other time he'd given a blow job.

Keith thrust though Lance could tell that he was trying not to, and then he was cuming, and Lance backed off, choking on the salty, bitter fluid. He was panting and strangely sweaty, and he put his head in the crook of Keith's hip, fitting nicely in the bowl of Keith's pelvis. Keith was already half-hard again. Lance thought that he should look erotically dirty, since his face was covered in cum. But it was Keith who looked dirty, his cheeks a brilliant red, eyes bright, pants undone and cock gently inflated, and shirt pushed up around his shoulders so that his nipples stood proudly and brilliantly out from his creamy flesh.

"Oh," he said after a minute. "Oh wow."

And then he was kissing Lance, and there was a tang of bitter salt underneath the orange, and Keith's long hands were sliding Lance's pants down, sliding his boxers off of his erection, and then one of those delicate fingers was—

"Ahh!"

Lance surged forward, cock sliding off of Keith's sweat skin and rubbing against the rough denim of his jeans.

"Shh," Keith said. And then there was another finger, and another, so nice, so comfortable, gently stretching him, and they'd found Lance's pleasure button, and there were fireworks behind his eyes, so he almost didn't realize it when Keith got behind him and…Wow.

Fucking women never felt this good.

Keith's hand was on Lance's cock, warm and rough and slick. He slid it back and forth, knowing exactly what worked and what didn't, and Lance writhed as much as he could beneath Keith, bent so close to the earth that the smell of the straw that made up the tatami mat filled his senses. He couldn't help himself from moaning and whispering curses under his breath.

Oh, it felt so good.

He couldn't stand much more, and then he was cuming, muscles shivering in unholy pleasure. His cum sprayed over the mat, and on his shirt, and he didn't fucking care because it was just so. Oh. He couldn't even begin to form the words. He could feel Keith cuming too, liquid fire that seared his bowels and made him wish that Keith would never stop.

His arms collapsed then, Keith surprisingly heavy atop him, and then he was rolling carefully, they were both working together to prolong the contact and Keith's jeans were rough against Lance sensitive post-sex thighs, which were wrapped around Keith's waist. Then Keith was lying on him, and still smelling of orange, and Lance was just incredibly, incredibly dazed.

It took a few moments before Lance could collect enough of his brain cells to look down at Keith.

"I bet you planned this," he said.

Keith just smiled and licked the sweat off of Lance's jawbone. He ground his hips against Lance, grinned at the sudden pressure against his stomach as Lance's cock sat up and took notice.

"Maybe," he said. He sucked on the joint of Lance's jaw, and was rewarded by a soft groan. "Would it be a bad thing if I said yes?"

"Nn-Ah!" Lance whimpered as Keith thrust against him, still hard, and Lance wondered if Keith had been sneaking some viagra on the side because damned if Lance could explain Keith's copious erections in some other fashion. "Y-You could have maybe wh-warned me."

"Yeah," Keith sat up just enough to pull off his shirt, and then pulled off Lance's just for good measure. He pinched an already engorged nipple, just having fun, and Lance pushed down on him, face scrunched up in a strange expression of pleasure. "Maybe."

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