Chapter Text
Most couples wouldn’t say that eating the last oreo counted as justification for a physical fight, but most couples weren’t a pair of highly-trained ex-defenders of the universe with a tendency to let playful sparring get out of hand. Keith specialized in hand-to-hand combat and swordplay back in the day, while Lance specialized in distanced and evasive fighting, but neither was particularly experienced with chill.
So, that was how they ended up playfully grappling on the kitchen floor of their shared apartment, Lance on his back and defying both gravity and anatomy in his attempt to choke Keith out with his thighs before the other could successfully pin him down. Keith was on his knees, bent over him, and had been winning until the crafty man underneath him somehow hooked his powerful legs over his shoulders. This was usually game over for Keith, and they both knew it, Lance grinning as if he’d already won.
Keith needed a hail Mary, some kind of distraction. Even if it wouldn’t win him the fight, it might prolong it, and the longer it went on, the higher his chances were. If this was a real fight, he could probably just give his opponent a black eye, or take a dirty temple shot, because Lance’s head was well within reach, but Keith couldn’t just punch his lover in the face. So, he did the next best thing; he pushed in close and swung with an open hand, and the ensuing slap echoed like thunder off of the tile beneath them.
Lance’s legs relaxed enough that Keith could breathe, and could have even overtaken him, but the look on Lance’s face paralyzed him. He gasped loudly, taking in more air than seemed possible, and left his jaw agape as his eyes flashed through a hundred emotions in three seconds.
Keith knew this look well. The universal look of, You fucked up. “Sorry-” he started, but before he could say anything else, Lance reaffirmed his legs’ grip on Keith’s neck and twisted violently, throwing him to the ground and putting himself on top. Keith was afraid for a moment- not that Lance would hurt him, but that the fight was over. He feared Lance was angry, and about to free him too soon, only to get up and storm off. His fears were replaced by vague confusion, however, when the other threaded his fingers into his long hair almost sweetly, and then tightened into a fist, just tight enough to threaten.
“You’re not allowed to hit me like that,” He stated, and for someone that made such simple statements as ‘good morning’ into innuendos, it was jarringly blunt. “Unless I ask you to.”
Ah. There it was. Somehow, this tone felt familiar, and once Keith chanced a glance down at his body, a wolfish grin spread across his face. “You kinky fuck,” he replied, only to get a hand clapped over his mouth, and two feet hooked over his arms, rendering him trapped.
Keith’s eyes were so expressive, wide with surprise and dilated with desire, Lance could tell what he was thinking even with half his face obscured. “You’re not allowed to talk , either.” He decided, and removed the hand from his face to move his own sweatpants down, just far enough to free his hard-on. “Not when you could be apologizing , instead.”
It was rare that Keith agreed to let Lance top, but here, with the man literally sitting over him and giving orders, it wasn’t like he had a choice. Of course, if he said no, he knew Lance would stop, so he always had a choice- but that didn’t matter when Keith had no desire to stop him. Still, he didn’t go down easy in a fight, and this was still a fight in his opinion, so instead of opening his mouth obediently, he shot back, “Already apologized, though.”
Lance used his grip on Keith’s hair to pull, hard. He knew the other’s pain tolerance well, and it was almost disturbingly high. “I said you aren’t allowed to talk. Apologize by sucking my cock, or else.”
Generally, ‘or else’ was supposed to intimidate, but coming from Lance, Keith knew it just meant he had nothing to back it up. If questioned twice, he’d flounder, or maybe come up with an entertainingly useless threat on the spot. “Or else what?”
Again, he was wrong. After moving his hips back just far enough to be out of the way, Lance slapped him with his left hand, the right still gripping his hair. Although Lance was a little gentler than Keith had been to him a moment ago, he gave it enough force to sting, and then rubbed it in with a smug, “You’re still talking.”
Keith’s arms flexed hard, testing Lance’s control, and if it wasn’t flawless, he would have pushed him off and rekindled their fight- but it was, so all he could do was growl, hands curling into fists. He hated when Lance got into a mood. Worse, he hated himself for reacting to his violence, and prayed the man on top of him wouldn’t look behind him, because the tent in his pants would be obvious.
Lance could see the war raging behind Keith’s eyes, and shifted forwards, deciding to sweeten the deal, the head of his cock brushing the other’s lower lip ever so gently. “Good.” He praised Keith for obeying his ‘no talking’ rule, and then went still. “Now, open up, and I’ll hit you again.”
Keith’s eyebrows furrowed for a second. And , not or? That was worded like a threat, but Lance smiled sweetly like he was offering a treat.
“Want me to?” Lance asked, faltering. He was pretty sure Keith was into it, but maybe he was overestimating?
Keith answered that question by parting his lips, but closed his eyes first, because he knew exactly the look Lance would give him, and he couldn’t stand it. Feeling Lance press in farther, and hearing his soft, emphatic “Oh, yes ” as his head rubbed the top of his mouth was more than enough. He moved in small ways, a nod to change the angle every now and then, a little swirl of his tongue, and soon, Lance was a panting mess above him, his left hand braced on the tile floor and his right still in Keith’s hair. Suddenly, he pulled away with a messy pop, and let go of Keith’s hair to hit him again. He had told him he would, after all- and yet, it still came as a surprise, drawing a sharp gasp and wide, wild eyes. “Look at me.” Lance ordered, as if the slap was just to get his attention.
Obedient for once, Keith kept his dark eyes trained on Lance’s, and the electricity between them sent a shudder down Lance’s spine. “Uncurl your fists and tap my leg if you need me to stop, understand?” Lance rasped quietly, like it was a secret, even though they were perfectly alone, and Keith echoed his shudder before nodding. He knew that if they needed a safeguard like that, Lance was about to stop holding back, and the mere thought of it had his hips lifting off the floor, seeking friction that wasn’t there. Wanting more, he opened his mouth to whine, but the sound was muffled by Lance’s shaft, pushing deeper than before until he couldn’t make any half-coherent sound.
Lance was hardly a sadist, so he was about as kind about it as one could be about fucking someone’s face, pulling out often enough to let Keith breathe, but he wasn’t going to baby him, either. He pushed a little deeper with each thrust, until he couldn’t go any further, and then, upon bottoming out, stopped. Keith’s throat constricted, his body desperately trying to do something about the intrusion, and his eyes watered, but he didn’t tap out, and the rush of power that came with felt just as good as the tightening around his length.
He pulled out after a few seconds, let Keith pull in a single breath, and repeated the motion, slowly wrecking his lover until his eyes were dazed and dizzy from only taking a breath or two per minute, his lips shiny and wet with saliva. “God, I’m close,” he admitted, shaking above Keith as he pulled out, and Keith could only cough in response at first.
Once he found his voice, though, he was immediately making demands. “Give me my hands back, Lance.”
Lance frowned a bit at that. Listening to him didn’t fit with this whole power dynamic he’d set up, but then again, Keith was excellent with his hands. Hardly a few seconds of deliberation passed before he gave in, taking his legs off of Keith’s wrists to let him move.
Keith reached one hand up to Lance’s ass, squeezing roughly and pulling him forward, and hooked the other arm around his thigh to grip his cock. “Sit on my face.” He ordered, and Lance obliged without thinking. He was willing to bet it would be worth it, and when he was this worked up, Keith could’ve told him to do anything and gotten his way.
Barely a minute later, Lance was shuddering and screaming Keith’s name, coming into his lover’s hand and riding his tongue, and Keith didn’t stop until Lance pulled away, whimpering, “can’t- can’t take any more.”
He moved to sit next to Keith, and nearly collapsed onto the kitchen floor, but Keith sat up as soon as he could, and wrapped an arm around his lover to hold him up. “No, no. No laying around here. If you’re gonna pass out, it’ll be in bed.” He chastised, and the other giggled like that was hilarious, high on afterglow.
“I’m not gonna pass out, baby.” Lance assured him, even if he was leaning on him a little. “I still need to take care of you.” One of his hands, previously limp at his side, wandered into Keith’s lap to grope him, drawing a half-surprised moan.
But then, surprisingly enough, Keith pulled his hand away and got awkwardly to his feet. “We’re still going to bed. Being pressed against a tile floor for half an hour isn’t comfy, you know.”
“Oh, come on, it wasn’t half an hour. And you love being between a dick and a hard place.” Lance teased, as he let Keith help him to his feet.
Keith smiled, but couldn’t resist a little jab as they headed to the bedroom. “I don’t think you’re using that phrase correctly.”