purple

Pidge grunted and rolled over, a small restless form in his huge bed; he groaned and flipped onto his stomach. He lay on the edge of his mattress, one leg dangling down, tried a thousand different positions as he strove to regain his lost sleep; he stared up at the blank ceiling and tried to remember the meditation techniques Sven tried to teach him. But nothing could coax sleep back nor remove the slowly growing pain in his loins.

God but he had to take a piss.

With a grunt, he sat up and let his legs hang over the side of the bed. One hand gripped the bedside table, knocking something off and onto the floor. Ah well, he'd find whatever it was in the morning. He stood and something crunched beneath his feet.

Pidge opened his eyes and looked down.

"Ah shit."

~~~

Keith choked on his coffee and spent a few seconds spluttering and gasping before he could speak. "Uh, Pidge, I don't think those are regulation glasses."

Pidge glared at his captain through his prescription purple sunglasses. "Yes, I know. I stepped on my regular glasses last night."

"Don't you have a spare pair?" Keith said.

"I did, but Hunk took them apart to make some sort of incendiary device." Pidge pushed his glasses back up his nose and poured himself a glass of OJ.

Hunk nodded enthusiastically and noisily swallowed a mouthful of eggs. "Yeah, it was really cool. Pidge's prescription is just right for optimum focusing sunlight on a fuse and the ear pieces are great for propping up C4."

Lance blinked. "Uh huh." He turned to Keith. "You know, I think that I'm going on the wrong missions."

Keith hemmed slightly. "Actually, I think he was just doing that for fun."

"Yup!" Hunk's grin was slightly maniacal and way too enthusiastic for this early in the morning. "Explosions are nifty!"

There was a short moment of strained silence, as the rest of the team pondered the best way to respond to Hunk's sudden enthusiasm for pyrotechnics. After remembering, however, that they lived in a stone building and, because of Keith's anal-retentive nature, dressed in flame retardant clothing, there was a silent, though unanimous, decision to just ignore Hunk's comment.

Keith pondered for a moment if giving Hunk caffeine in the morning was really such a smart idea before focusing his attention back on Pidge. "Why purple?"

Pidge shrugged. "Why not."

"Fair enough." Keith drained the last of his orange juice and stood. "Right. There's hand-to-hand combat in ten minutes. Come on."

He swept out of the door, to the noise of three heads turning, and there was a beat that was a nanosecond too long after the door closed on Keith, but the boys around the table were still staring at the space where their captain's ass had been.

Pidge wondered if that beat had always been there.

~~~

And that was the beginning of Pidge's suspicion that something wasn't quite kosher in the state of Arus. The clues, hints, whatever, were small, nearly imperceptible. They were insidious, everyday actions, mere quirks in the normal interactions of the team. On any other day, Pidge wouldn't have even spared a thought for them. Yet today, today they took on a sinister cast.

When they spared, for example, and Keith spared with Lance, his attacks seemed like caresses. Or when they were working in the mechanics bay, Hunk pressed a little too close, and spoke wetly into the nearest ear, which made him sound like he was on the verge of an orgasm. Not that Pidge knew what Hunk on the verge of an orgasm sounded like, at least not without a wall between him and Hunk. And Lance, well, Lance was Lance so, theoretically, Pidge knew that it would be perfectly acceptable for Lance to grab you from behind and sneak his hands up your shirt and tickle you mercilessly, or snap his towel at your ass in the locker room. But even the fact that it was Lance didn't make it all right for him to pull Keith's head down and place a kiss on his forehead as a means for checking for a fever.

And sometimes, sometimes, Pidge got the feeling that there were eyes scoping out his ass. But whenever he turned around, the only person behind him would be Lance or Hunk or Keith and they'd always be preoccupied with something else.

Still, something was up. Or, rather, three things were on the up and up, and if Pidge was any judge of sexual arousal, the source was most definitely not from images of buxom, willing, nubile females ready to perform any sexual act a perverted mind could think of.

To sum up, Pidge was confused and the guys were acting weird. And all this had happened in less than 24 hours. Pidge dreaded to think what tomorrow would bring.

So, being a smart, young, somewhat sneaky Baltonian, he did the only thing he could think of; he called Sven.

He established the link quickly, because it was a secure line using a combination of Alliance and Doom satellites, which, technically, he shouldn't be doing because he had lied to Keith earlier that year and said it wasn't possible. But this was a crisis, so he figure he had a little bit of leeway. Besides, it wasn't like Keith would ever catch him.

And then Sven was there, the last bastion of heterosexuality left to Pidge, especially when the guys were not acting quite like the guys.

"Hey, short stuff," Sven said. "What's up? Nice glasses."

"Sven." Pidge hoped he didn't look as desperately relieved as he sounded. "You've got to help me."

"With what?"

"It's. Things. Everyone." Pidge sighed, took a deep breath, organized his thoughts and stared almost stately at Sven. "I think I'm going crazy."

The Swede nodded slowly. "Okay."

"I. I'm. I don't know if I'm imagining these things or if they're really happening." Pidge ran a hand through his hair and scowled. "I think. Well, I think things are a little. Off. Like. Okay. Okay, so, I keep picking up on these...vibes, see? Like, the other guys are five seconds from ripping each other's clothes off and fucking like minks."

There was a long silence as Sven digested Pidge's sudden explosion. "Okay. Two things. First, do you have any concrete proof? Second, how, exactly, do you know what minks look like when they're fucking?"

"First, no, no proof, just feelings. Second, the internet and the discovery channel."

Sven nodded again, and Pidge remembered that this was why he liked the Swede so much. He was always so thoughtful and collected and authoritative, but in an unassuming fashion that Keith could only dream about. "Okay. I think I know what you need to do. I think, basically, that you're just confused. They're all very attractive guys, after all, and you're young and—"

"It's not me!" Pidge broke in. "This so has nothing to do with me. It's them. They're acting weird!" He looked about furtively, before leaning closer to the vid screen. "I think Hunk goosed me!"

Sven took a moment to bite back the laughter that threatened to burst forth and thought unfunny thoughts. "I see," he said finally.

"What should I do?!" Pidge wailed.

"Don't worry about it, for one. I'm sure these feelings will pass. And if they don't, well, that's when you call me and get the 'so you're a gay man' talk."

Pidge made a face and sighed. "Thanks, Sven. Thanks a lot."

"Not a problem." Sven cut the connection on his side and the vid screen slowly went black. Pidge sat for a moment longer, pondering Sven's words. Was it true? Was he the one who had changed?

He took off his glasses and the world lost its focus.

Were these new...developments really so bad? He had to admit that the thought of Keith and Lance getting naked and screwing like sex-starved weasels was more than a little arousing. In fact, if he didn't start thinking non-sexually charged thoughts soon, he'd either have to whip out the little guy or run the risk of trying to explain to Nanny why there was a big ol' cum stain in the crotch of his pants.

Moving by feel and memory, Pidge made his way across his bedroom, shedding his pants as he went. The cold air of his room brushing against his erection made him shiver, but in a pleasant way, and he felt an ache in his loins like he'd never experienced before.

Was it really so bad, thinking these thoughts?

One hand strayed down to his dick, and he stroked himself slowly, his hands old pros when it came to self-gratification. In his mind, he saw Lance going down on Keith, his captain's cock sliding easily between Lance's ruby lips. A moan escaped his lips and he fell back onto his bed. He could hear their soft, wet noises; smell the pungent aroma of sex. He flicked his thumb across his head and almost wept at the pleasure/pain as his nail scraped the tender flesh.

The image in his mind suddenly changed, and for the briefest moment, Pidge was disappointed. Gone were Keith and Lance, and in their place was Hunk who lounged naked before him, a "come hither" smile on his lips. He was stroking himself, and there was something so intimate, so sensual about this sensual act that Pidge came, half-screaming half-sobbing. He shuddered as he came down off of his orgasmic high, eyes still closed. He was weeping softly, gently, but he didn't know why, and he tried to burn that image of Hunk into his mind.

~~~

The days passed, and Pidge noticed the little not-quite-straight quirks of the others with increasing clarity. Viewed through his purple lenses, they seemed glaringly obvious, and he wondered how he'd never picked up on them before. Not that he minded, exactly, for those moments supplied him with an endless parade of images to feed his jerk off sessions.

He wondered, sometimes, how he was still able to look his friends in the eyes after imagining some of the things he did.

Then, one day, his spare glasses came, and the next time he saw the others, those little quirks that had been so obvious were less clear. In a week, he didn't think there was anything queer about Lance and Keith sparring, or the towel fights in the locker rooms.

But Hunk, well, he still looked at Hunk through new eyes, still jerked off to images of him naked, imagined that it was Hunk's hand that encircled his dick. He grew to relish those times they were alone in the mechanic bay, and Hunk would press up against him, or lean over him to get a wrench or a pair of pliers. It got so that Pidge started pushing back, maintaining the contact and the heat of their bodies. He also took to wearing baggy pants in a last ditch attempt to hide his erections which took to springing up at the most inappropriate times. During the quick changes to the skintight flight suits, for example, or at breakfast, or during hand-to-hand combat, or when he was teaching the Arusian children how to play soccer. Now that one was embarrassing, especially when the mothers had been present.

The only problem was, it wasn't enough.

Pidge wondered how he would broach the topic. Somehow, he didn't think just going up to Hunk and saying "Hey, I think you're hot, and I've been fantasizing about fucking you every night for about a month now, so how about it? Let's rip off our clothes and engage in some dirty, nasty screwing right here, right now" was going to cut it. It'd probably give him enough time for a nice grope, and maybe a quick kiss while Hunk was still stunned, but then he'd have to jump on the nearest ship off planet before he either died of embarrassment or, worse, was killed by Hunk. Not literally, of course, but Pidge was sure that if Hunk stopped being his friend, he would shrivel up and die.

So he waited. And he planned, and he jerked off at every chance he could get, and he wondered if, maybe, he was reading too much into Hunk's actions sometimes. But sometimes he thought he was getting everything just right.

Then, on a perfect Sunday, it happened.

He couldn't help himself, he really couldn't. Well, no, he was sure he could have, but Hunk was right there, and they were just inches away, so Pidge stretched just the littlest bit and kissed him Well, not really kissed him, just gave him an eentsy-weensy little peck. It was nothing, really.

And it was everything.

Hunk pulled away first, blinking, and if he hadn't trapped Pidge between his body and the Lion they were "fixing" Pidge would have been out of there and off planet faster than an ice cube melts in hell.

"Well." Hunk licked his lips and grinned. "About time. Mm. You had chocolate today, didn't you?"

Pidge was too busy hyperventilating to respond, so Hunk took the opportunity to openly grope the younger man and steal in a few kisses of his own. This sent Pidge off into new waves of heart palpitations so Hunk eased off. It wouldn't do to give the poor boy a heart attack. Well, at least not until after they'd had sex. Hunk pulled his hands out of Pidge's pants and started to work on the Lion.

Five minutes later, Pidge was still quivering and had those strange spirals in place of his eyes. Enough was enough.

"Pidge?" Hunk waved his hand in front of Pidge's face. "Hello? Anybody in there?"

"You. Me. Kiss. Wha'?"

"Okay. We've established that you know who you are, and who I am, and that we've kissed. Anything else?"

Pidge looked up at him with wide, innocent eyes. "More?"

Hunk grinned and pulled the smaller man into the lion's cockpit. "Happily."

Voltron
Feed Todesengel