little red

//Once upon a time, a mother made a red cape for her child. And she loved and protected that child from the cruel world, kept him safe from everything that was strange and new and alien. And so he lived his life in a boring world that never really changed. Until the day he went into the woods.//

Keith was lost. Very, very lost. Lost in the middle of a very strange, primeval forest of rapidly deepening shadows. Of course since he was the Champion or Arus (or he would be when his father retired) he wasn't afraid of being lost in a savage forest that was vastly different from the tame parks of the royal hunting grounds. He was merely...concerned. Very concerned. About his horse. That was why he was glancing about with a furrowed brow and trying to remember which way was north and how far he had gone. And it was his finely honed warrior's senses that made him jump half a meter when the tall, dark man with the fox-like grin and the sharp, bright eyes said, "Hello, Little Red," and smiled at him with white, white teeth.

Keith pulled his brilliant scarlet cape closer about him and reminded himself that he was Keith, Champion of Arus, Bravest of the Brave, He of the Lion's Heart, Hero among Heroes, and not a frightened little boy who was afraid of the things that lurked in shadows. Anyway, he had a very large sword and he knew how to use it.

"Um," Keith began. He wasn't sure what the protocol was when meeting handsome strangers in the woods. Or rather, he knew what the protocol would be if he were a princess--though if he had been, he was pretty sure that this strange man was not a dashing young prince in disguise--but his education was sadly lacking in this area. He was pretty sure that the appropriate response was not a sudden, roiling sensation in his belly and the profuse sweating of his palms and a desperate desire to see if this man tasted as sharp as he looked. "Hello."

"Are you lost?"

"Well. Yes. I was chasing a deer and--" Keith turned in his saddle and when he turned back, the man was standing by his knee and smiling up at him. "Well. I got separated. Where am I?"

"In my home." The man looked up at the darkening sky. "It's getting late, Little Red, you won't be able to make it home before night falls. You don't want to be alone here at night."

"I'll have you know that I am the Champion of Arus! I'm not afraid of the dark."

"And I'm sure that the bears who will rip you to shreds if you try to make it home tonight will be mightily impressed by that title. I, however, am Lance Wolf, nobody's champion, and I would greatly prefer eating a hot meal and sitting before a warm fire to becoming some hungry beast's dinner. So, Master Champion, if you don't mind I'll be leaving now. Good night."

"Wait!" Keith nudged his horse closer to Lance, crowded him. "I. I'm sorry. Please. I. Don't leave me alone." And he hated how young and afraid he sounded.

"Well. When you ask so nicely. Now sit forward because I'm coming up." The smile was back and when Lance pulled himself and sat comfortably behind Keith, arms wrapped about his waist in a surprisingly strong embrace, Keith wasn't surprised. He should have been, he thought, but all he felt was a warm secret glow of pleasure at this innocent caress. It was the first time he'd ever been treated as a normal person and Keith was surprised at how special that made him feel. He liked being treated as normal.

//'Look, Little Red,' the Wolf said, 'at all the pretty flowers.'

'But mother said not to stray from the path,' Little Red replied. But they were very pretty flowers indeed.//

Lance's house was...tiny, three rooms and a loft where Lance made his bed. He had a very large bed. And a warm kitchen, and a sitting room with large, comfy chairs, and a library--that amazed Keith, he'd never seen so many books outside of the palace. Lance fed him plain food--thick slices of brown bread, venison with a rich gravy--food that left him feeling full and comfortable and sleepy. He could barely waddle from the kitchen to the sitting room where he collapsed into a well-padded chair with a sigh.

"How do you keep thin?" Keith said. Well, groaned.

"I pick up lost boys in the woods," Lance replied from the kitchen where he was washing up. Keith thought that perhaps this was a joke but he didn't really care. He was warm and full and there was light from a fire. This was a million times better than spending the night huddled under a tree with his horse.

Lance carried a tea tray and Keith found that he had enough room to eat one of the sweet chocolate cookies Lance offered and drink hot, dark tea. He watched the fire in the grate with dull, sleepy eyes, dozing in an open-eyed way.

"So, Little Red." Lance leaned in close and Keith was suddenly struck by the fact that he was impossibly aroused. "Tell me about yourself. What's your name?"

"Keith," Keith said and he felt he should have said more but he'd feel weird if he gave Lance his house name. It'd have felt too pretentious for this little house.

"Keith. That's a nice name." His voice was low and throaty and rich. "Tell me more."

Keith sat for a moment, comfortable and at ease for the first time in his life, and he thought about this strange man who made him feel more fire in a glance than Allura ever had. And he felt embarrassed suddenly, and a little afraid of his arousal and he was so very tired, so he began to talk--well, babble--and all the dirty secrets of his life slowly slipped out from between his lips. About how he hated being engaged to a princess and how he hated being a Champion and how sometimes all he wanted in life was quiet. He told Lance about Sven, his best friend, his only friend, the only real person in his fantasy world, and about how he sometimes felt when watching Sven in the practice field and how confused he was sometimes. Because he did love Allura. He truly did. And he knew that she made him feel...Well. She made him feel. But that didn't stop him from eyeing Sven and feeling guilty afterwards.

He talked until Lance made him stop, leaning in and planting a kiss on his lips, a kiss with a smile and a bite. He filled Keith's mind with sharp cleanness, like pine trees in winter, cold and spicy. Keith closed his eyes and when he opened them, he was staring up at rough beams and covered by a patchwork quilt and it was morning. He felt a sharp bit of fear for a moment, wondered what Lance had done to him. Then he realized that he was all alone in the great big bed and when he looked over the edge of the loft and saw Lance curled up in one of the comfortable chairs he felt relief and guilt and passing regret.

He thought about that regret all the way to the castle and he felt loss when Lance paused at the edge of the woods and said, "This is my stop."

He wanted to say "Mine too" but he thought about his friends and his family and all the things he needed to do.

And so, instead, he said goodbye.

//'Come along, Little Red, come with me,' the wolf said. 'Don't you hear the birds singing?'

And Little Red stepped off the path.//

Keith got 'lost' again and again and again. Or at least that was what he told Lance every time he showed up on the doorstep to Lance's cottage. He came by so often that it became a regular thing. At first it was once a month. And then twice month. And then it became a weekly thing. Because Keith kept dreaming about that cold, sharp, dangerous kiss. And then he started to dream about Lance's mouth and Lance's tongue and Lance's body and the little cottage. Because the third or fourth time he went to Lance, Lance moved the kiss down, down, down Keith's body and onto his cock and Keith had practically jumped out of his skin at the sensation of a tongue upon his skin. And not long after that, Lance whispered for Keith to lie on his back and he had slowly lowered himself onto Keith and after that Keith couldn't not come back. It was amazing.

Not that he only went to see Lance for the sex. Sometimes there was no sex at all, just quiet conversation, Lance telling Keith about his life. Sometimes he would sit down at Lance's feet and listen to him read because Lance had a beautiful voice that flowed over Keith like water. And he would rest his head on Lance's thigh and wrap an arm around his knee and feel happier than he had ever felt before.

He was beginning to love this little house in the woods. Lance said that it had been his grandmother's house, but Keith didn't really believe that because the house felt too much like Lance to have ever belonged to a little old lady. Not that Keith was going to argue with Lance about the origins of the house--it was cozy and safe and far, far away from the Royal Court and the Princess. Here, in this obscure little cottage, with this strong, warm man, Keith could be himself, let out all those feelings which he'd been told were wrong and evil his entire life; those feelings that had burned in the bottom of his stomach and he'd never been able to name until Lance. And then he had learned and named and done. Oh what he had done.

He collapsed on Lance's back, slick and panting and still trembling. He ran his hands down Lance's sides, kissed his sweat-streaked hair, the back of his neck. Keith could feel Lance shuddering, hear him gasp. For a long quavering, hot, sweaty moment there was panting and rustling sheets and the smell of a good beeswax candle. Then Keith was lying on his stomach, listening to Lance's heartbeat and they lay together as their sweat cooled and pooled in the secret crevices of their bodies.

"Well," he sighed, and he stroked the hair on Lance's chest. "That was...nice."

"Only nice?" Lance rolled until he was above Keith, heavy and naked, his legs between Keith's. "I guess I need to try harder."

Keith laughed and pushed himself up on his elbows until they were once again skin-to-skin. He kissed Lance and marveled at his daring. "Hmmm. Maybe later. My world can only be shaken so often."

"Is that a challenge?" Lance nipped the end of Keith's nose, pushed his pelvis against Keith's, rubbed against him. "You know that saying things like that make me want to do some very naughty things to you."

Keith let himself drop down. He reached up, laced his fingers behind Lance's neck, pulled Lance down with him. "Later. Later," he whispered into Lance's ear.

Lance smiled and rolled off Keith. He cuddled closer to Keith, slid an arm beneath Keith's neck. When he yawned, Keith could feel it and he yawned as well and closed his eyes.

"Love you," he murmured. His breathing slowed as he surrendered himself to sleep.

Lance purred--hummed--and pinched out the flame. When he smiled in the darkness his teeth were very white indeed.

//So Little Red wandered further into the woods, though he knew that it was wrong.//

Three days after Keith was finally married, he went to Lance. He needed to get away, needed to scream in the isolation of the woods and the strong arms of Lance. He'd had to say yes, of course. And he felt that maybe, maybe he could run away tonight, run away for good. Run and run and run until he ran full length into Lance and he could stop running. He could be happy here, away from honor and duty and intrigue and politics that was his life at the court. But though the man named Keith had almost overwhelmed the Champion he had been, there was enough of him left that he knew he couldn't leave Arus yet. He knew enough about politics to know that there was war on the horizon. War and death and for a desperate moment Keith considered running into the forest and getting mauled by that bear who'd been cheated out of his supper that first night with Lance.

But Lance was good and kind and he danced Keith up against a wall and pulled down Keith's trousers and gave him a blow job that was, well, mind blowing was a little too weak a description. Keith was pretty sure that the only thing that kept him upright as Lance's tongue did the devil's work was Lance's tongue (and his mouth and hands and everything else about him). He slid down the wall, back getting scratched against the rough wood, and he forgot, for a moment, that he was anything other than a man in love.

//He came at last to Grandmother's house. And when he entered he pretended not to see Grandmother's blood.//

And once again, Keith was lost in the woods. Only this time he didn't think he was going to be rescued by a dashing stranger. It was more than likely that he was going end up skewered with the business end of an enemy soldier's pike. He was cold and lost and tired and caked in blood that wouldn't come off no matter how much he scrubbed. But he didn't care, didn't care at all that there might be a hundred enemy soldiers hiding in the forest around him, guerilla warriors left behind by Lotor as he retreated. The thought of death couldn't stir his numb mind, make him take control of his plodding, wandering horse. He didn't care about death because every time he closed his eyes he saw the faces of every dead boy who wouldn't be coming home.

Gradually, Keith became aware of the slow lightening of his world. The trees became thinner, the underbrush heavier. And then, suddenly, he was in a clearing and he could smell wood smoke. He blinked. Looked at the house before him, the red shingles on the roof, the cheery little trim. He almost couldn't believe that this wasn't a waking dream, that he was really at Lance's house. His horse snorted, pawed at the ground. Keith blinked again, then exploded into action. He slid out of the saddle, ran to the door, pounded it until his knuckles bled.

"Lance! Lance!" His voice cracked, was full of desperation. He was almost crying in his need. "Lance!"

When the door opened and Lance stood there, blinking in confusion, as real as the forest and the deaths and the war, Keith threw himself into his arms, hugged him with desperate strength, kissed him fiercely.

"Keith? What--"

"Your real. Your real. Oh God, Lance. I missed you. Every single night I missed you." Keith buried his hands in Lance's hair, drew Lance in for another kiss. When he pulled his hands away to stroke Lance's face, they left red streaks that gleamed wetly and made sticky clumps. Keith made a low, strangled noise in the back of his throat. He pushed Lance away, wrapped his arms around himself, stared in horror at the blood on Lance's clothes.

"No," he said. "No."

"Hey. Hey." Lance pulled Keith close. "Hey, it's okay. A little water will get you cleaned up."

"It won't come off, Lance. It won't come off." Keith trembled in Lance's arms, trembled as Lance undressed him, slowly, lowered him into a tub of steaming water. He relaxed, gradually, as Lance washed him off, rubbed his sore muscles. He kept his eyes firmly closed so he wouldn't have to see the water turn red. When he stood and the water cascaded off his naked body and Lance wrapped him in a large, soft towel he was almost calm. He surrendered himself easily to Lance's kisses, to the smooth hardness of his body. And when he was inside Lance and his world was reduced to velvet heat and sweat and Lance beneath him, Keith finally felt like himself.

He fell asleep feeling safe and warm and he dreamed mostly pleasant dreams. But when he woke, it was with a gasp and fear in his heart. The cottage was quiet and Keith wondered if maybe this was all just an elaborate hallucination and he was really freezing to death in a snow bank somewhere. He pushed the blankets off and scrambled down the ladder and out into the snow where he stood naked and shivering as he watched Lance fill in a hole. The world was white and cold and his breath fogged the air but all he could see was the red smeared on Lance's hands and the shallow cut that wept blood down his cheek and the top of a little head covered in brown curls.

"Lance?" Even to his own ears he sounded small and lost. He knew the person who belonged to those curls, knew that it was little Pidge, one of his soldiers, being lowered into the ground. He saw another patch of freshly dug earth, bigger, another grave. He wondered who was under the earth there. He wondered how they died.

"Hey, you're awake."

"You're bleeding." Keith looked down at Lance's feet and then away when he saw the axe with curly brown hair and blood still fresh on the blade.

"Yeah. I went out for a walk and cut myself on a branch." Lance smiled and leaned against his shovel. "Go back inside. You'll get frostbite if you stay out here too much longer."

"Okay." Keith nodded and went back in.

//He came to the bed where the wolf lay and crawled inside.//

Keith kissed Lance's mouth and licked Lance's lips. "Mmm. What a big mouth you have, Master Wolf," Keith said.

"The better to kiss you with, my dear Little Red."

Keith smiled against Lance's skin and continued his way down lance's body. He put his head on Lance's chest, listened to his heart.

"And what a big heart you have."

"The better to love you with."

"And such big hands." Keith wove his fingers between Lance's and kissed the back of Lance's hand.

"The better to hold you with."

"Mmm." Keith slid down Lance's body, kissed the bottom of Lance's rib cage, the hollow of his hip. He swirled his tongue around the base of Lance's cock, was rewarded with a moan. "This is big too. But I think I know what it's for." He ran his tongue up the length of Lance's shaft, took Lance into his mouth, felt him thrust up. He teased Lance, left him panting and begging and when Lance was reduced to a trembling mess he worked his way back up until he lay full length on Lance's body.

"I want you inside me," he whispered. He felt Lance take deep breaths and then was dislodged from his comfortable position when Lance pushed himself up onto his elbows.

"Are you sure?"

Keith nibbled on his lower lip. "Yes."

Lance let out a sigh. He smiled, slow and gentle and full of love. "Okay. Roll onto your stomach."

Keith rolled over and tried not to tense up. Lance ran his hands down Keith's side, kissed the smooth, pale curve of his ass. Keith gasped as he felt Lance lick him, the first thrust of Lance's tongue, the gentle invasion of first one finger than another. It was painful at first and Keith was tempted to tell Lance to stop, and then, suddenly, there were stars bursting before his eyes and he yelped and jumped forward at the sudden pleasure. He would have come right there if Lance hadn't bit the back of his neck. The pain twined with the pleasure and he moaned and thrust against the bedding. He twisted until he could look Lance squarely in the eyes, mouth open though he had no words to speak.

"Are you ready?"

Keith swallowed and nodded slowly.

"Okay." Lance kissed Keith fiercely. "If it hurts, tell me."

"Okay." Keith bit his lip as Lance put himself into position. He winced, slightly, as Lance entered him, and then he howled as Lance pushed slowly forward. He felt something tear but he didn't care because it felt so good! He screamed, arched his body, panted, twisted, moaned, bucked against Lance. Stars and comets burst behind his eyes. Above him, Lance grunted, thrust harder, trembled. Sweat dripped down Keith's forehead, into his mouth.

When it was over, Keith could barely breathe. He knew that he couldn't leave this man, this place. He rolled onto his back with Lance still in him, kissed Lance, nipped at Lance's lower lip.

"I love you," he whispered. "I love you. I want to stay. I don't want to leave."

"I love you too," Lance said. "And I've captured you and I'm never going to let you leave."

//And nobody ever heard from Little Red again.//