A/N: I 100% blame Keithy on the Sheithans discord server for this.

It was supposed to be a one-time thing.

Everyone had been hurting after the failure of the Kerberos mission, but all their grief paled in comparison to Keith's. James understood why of course; Officer Shirogane had gotten him into the Garrison, saved him from a life of jumping from one prison sentence to the next. But now that he was dead, that whole plan seemed to be in jeopardy. So like the kind, caring man that felt a sense of duty to finish what Shirogane had started and who wished the best for his fellow classmates (which had nothing to do with wanting to be top of the class fair and square), James set out to offer Keith his condolences and a shoulder to cry on. And of course like the paranoid, socially stunted bullheaded asshole he was, Keith took it as an invitation to fight.

It hadn't been pretty. There was no elegance to their fight, just a raw brutal animalistic force that only two teenage boys on the cusp of manhood could wrought. It ended exactly like their first fight at the Garrison had, with James on his back and Keith above him with raised fists. Then Keith's shouts turned to sobs, his punches into desperate grabs at clothing, and next thing he knew he was staring up at his ceiling naked with a passed out, equally as naked Keith next to him.

When he woke up the next morning, Keith was gone. Gone from his bed, from the Garrison, and probably from his life forever. James didn't let the bruised pride or the smarting marks on his body interfere with his career, and soon he was top of the class with Keith as nothing more than a distance memory. He had effectively forgotten about the guy, focused on preparing for whatever would come his way.

Five years later and life decided to give him a roundhouse kick reminder that no one was allowed to forget the name Keith Kogane.

James leaned against the windowsill, staring out at the vast expanse of desert before him. He was in one of the corridors of the Garrison hospital, sitting on one of the cushioned ledges they provided. He was there because…because…honestly he had no fucking clue why he was there. Him and his squad had been cleared pretty quickly after the final battle, diagnosis nothing more than some bruises and scrapes with a prescription of rest and celebration with the rest of the universe. The Paladins of Voltron were either sleeping off four years of an intergalactic war or catching up with the people they left behind and the friends they made along the way. There was no reason for James to be here yet there he sat, looking out to the desert as if it provided answers.

The squeaking of the wheels of an IV drip pulled him from his musings. He looked over and had to fight the urge to rub his eyes. There, walking as if he hadn't just woken up from an explosion-induced coma was the head of Voltron himself, Keith Kogane. He looked so much younger in the hospital uniform, the bandages wrapped around his head giving him a sense of vulnerability. Just like when they were younger Keith paid him no mind, sitting on the same ledge as him and staring out the window. Either he was still unaware of what an awkward silence was, or he also didn't know how to approach the sudden tension.

"Didn't you just wake up from a coma," James asked; subtlety was never his strong suit when it came to Keith. "What the hell are you doing walking around?"

Keith glanced at him from the corner of his eye before looking back out the window. "Felt weird, sitting there doing nothing. Feel like I should be planning another battle strategy or be in some diplomatic meeting."

Makes sense; even when they were young Keith felt the need to be occupied by something, otherwise he was prone to getting into trouble. "Don't you have some aliens to catch up with though?"

Keith shrugged, "Mom and Kolivan are out doing stuff for the Blades, Shiro's busy being the voice of a new world order, and the wolf is probably either getting spoiled rotten by Lance's family or playing with Bae-Bae. Don't exactly have many options left to keep me company."

"I could keep you company." The words are out of James's mouth before he even thinks to process them. Keith fully turns to look at him, an eyebrow raised in question; James holds his hands up defensively. "What? I'm not a complete and utter asshole you know!"

"We fought literally every time we were in the same room as each other."

"Not every time," James shoots back; something about Keith makes him want to argue, even if it makes him look like a dumbass. Those thick caterpillars Keith calls eyebrows furrow together before shooting into his hairline. James feels a smug sense of satisfaction at the light blush that blooms across Keith's cheeks. He takes it as an invitation to scoot closer to Keith, hand resting dangerously close to his.

"Everybody else is celebrating or rebuilding right now," he murmurs, "a party of one sounds pretty lonely, don't you think?"

"Since when have you cared about me being lonely," Keith responds; it's quieter, not at all reminiscent of the confident leader he saw in battle. James shrugged, fingers walking between the spaces left by Keith's.

"Since we saved Earth from a bunch of murderous space furries," he quips, cocky grin on his face. He settles his hand right on top of Keith's; for such a fiery guy, he really did have cold hands. "So what do you say?"

Keith's eyes drop to their hands before slowly making their way back to James's face. He gives a short nod, jerking his head back towards where he came. Soon the two of them are walking back to Keith's room, with James thinking back to that night before Keith left. All thoughts cease when the door opens and he's pulled inside, a mouth slanted over his and the door closing behind them.

When James had left his room after pulling the thin hospital sheets up to Keith's chin, that should have been the end of it. Just a celebratory knocking of boots together for having not died and saving the universe from tyranny.

Except it kept happening.

Whenever one of those things fell from the sky, James would find himself being shoved into a broom closet or bathroom stall. When they actually managed to catch a break for longer than two days James was either being dragged to Keith's room or pushed back onto his mattress. Not to say that James was some pushover whore for Keith to use at his fancy; James instigated a bunch of their liaisons himself of course. It's just…Keith's need to fuck was a lot higher than his. Like a lot higher. To the point that James wondered if it was a Galra thing to always be in a constant state of fighting or fucking. If so, no wonder those fuckers took over the entire universe.

Apparently others took notice of Keith's stamina.

"So are you and Kogane just fucking or what?"

James spluttered, water going all over the table. Kinkade, Leifsdottir, and Rizavi all moved their trays accordingly in scarily perfect synch. James glared at Rizavi while coughing, who had the gall to just sit there and innocently poke at her salad. He took the napkin offered by Kinkade, wiping at his mouth.

"What are you talking about?"

"After every mission you and Kogane disappear for approximately ten to fifteen minutes," Leifsdottir stated as if it were just another piece of data, "afterwards you both appear slightly disheveled with marks that are generally associated with sex. You and Kogane also have a tendency to disappear together for large swaths of time whenever there is nothing else to do, only to come out looking the same."

"So cut the crap and give us the deets." Rizavi jabbed her forkful of salad at James's face. "Y'all fucking or what?"

James heaves a sigh, pinching the bridge of his nose. "If you must know, yes, we are fucking. It's a friends with benefits sort of deal; he scratches my back, I scratch his. Nothing more, nothing less."

Rizavi hums, leaning forward on the table, chin resting in her hands. "And how's that going for your big fat crush on him?"

James jerked away from the table, face erupting in flames. "I…How…I do not have a big fat crush on him!"

"Seventy-five to eighty percent of your complaints about him in flight school were about things that, upon further analysis, could be considered you actually talking about how attractive he is," again Leifsdottir chimes in, as if she were just talking about the weather instead of one of her friends' sex life. James shot her a glare, the blush still visible high on his cheeks.

"Yeah well, the numbers mean nothing. I don't have a crush on Kogane, and this arrangement here isn't making me have feelings." He grabbed his tray, pushing away from the table. "Now if you'll excuse me, I think I'm gonna finish lunch in the hangar."

He ignored whatever snarky comment came from Rizavi's mouth as he left the mess hall, thoughts bouncing wildly around his head. There was no way in hell he had a crush on Keith Kogane. Sure he respected the guy for his battle tactics, courage, and flight skills, but so did Commander Iverson and everyone else in the base. Did that mean they all had crushes on Keith? Of course not; it meant they were people with eyes and enough brain cells to rub together to have a decent thought. And fine, maybe he thought he was pretty easy on the eyes, but again that meant nothing. He'd seen Rizavi cycle through so many freak-outs about pretty girls without meaning to seriously pursue them that it barely even phased him.

Everything relaxed as he entered the upper decks of the MFE hangar. Something about being there, close to his ship and the opportunity of freedom just instantly calmed him. He looked around, hoping that he could claim a seat to look over his personal plane, when his eyes caught another Garrison cadet uniform perched on the walkway. More specifically, Keith in a Garrison cadet uniform with that kickass wolf perched on the walkway. Perched on the walkway right above where his beloved MFE sat charging.

Motherfucker.

"Thinking of stealing my ship are you?"

The dull thud that rang out in the hangar as Keith's skull made contact with the rails above it had James wincing in sympathy. He walked over with his tray, afraid Keith might lash out in some sort of retribution. Keith merely clutched his head, groaning in pain before cracking an eye open.

"Why the fuck do people always think I'm trying to steal their shit," he grumbled, arms slowly falling back to his sides. One hand came to rest on Kosmo's head; the wolf pushed his snout into his hand. James shrugged, taking a seat next to him.

"You did steal Captain Shirogane's care before we got here."

"That was one time!"

"There was also the time you stole someone's pens cuz they pissed you off. Oh, and the ti-" James was cut off as Keith slapped a hand over his mouth. He looked over at him, trying to avoid all connotations of intense eyes and hand over mouth with sex.

"Keep it up and I actually will," Keith threatens before removing his hand. He wipes it off on his pants before crossing his arms on the railing, resting his head on them. James took a moment to study his profile before turning back to his food. Kosmo comes towards him, eyes asking for food and pets; it takes everything in him not to give in.

"What're you doing in here anyway? Shouldn't you be hanging out with your crew or something?"

"They were getting a little too rowdy for my tastes," Keith responds, still staring straight ahead. He places a hand on Kosmo's back, letting it rest. "It's great to hang out with them, but when you spend two years on the back of a space whale with just your mom and a wolf, it takes a while to get used to it again."

"Space whale?"

The corner of Keith's lips twitch upwards, as if remembering fond memories. "It's a long story."

He turns to look at him, eyeing his tray empty of everything save a few scraps of meat James left for Kosmo. "What about you? What brings you here instead of being with your squad?"

James set his tray aside, watching as Kosmo descends on it like a vulture. He makes it a point to mimic Keith's previous posture, resting against the railings. He shrugs, staring down at his jet. "Same as you. Rizavi made one too many snarky jabs."

Keith hums, "So you can dish it but not take it huh?"

James's shoulders tense; he's not about to let some punk ass fuck buddy diss him in his happy place. He whips around to face Keith, only for his retort to die on his lips. Keith is laughing, a smile on his lips and good God he should not look as cute as he does. The Keith he remembers and the Keith he's been fucking don't smile or laugh like that. They've always been stony faced little bitches, only giving barest hint of emotion in the throes of passion.

"Relax Griffin, I was just kidding." Keith's snickers died down, face relaxing into something of…concern? James couldn't tell, he was still trying to wrap his head around him laughing. "Rizavi really must've pissed you off huh?"

James wrenches his eyes away from Keith; anything to not confront the sudden emotions. "Yeah…guess it hit a little too close to home."

More like a nail getting smacked down by a hammer, but Keith didn't need to know that. A warm hand placed solidly on his thigh has him jumping form his thoughts. He looks over at Keith, eyes wide and faint blush on his cheeks. Keith's jaw worked, eyebrows furrowed together as if he were chewing on a questionable piece of meat. James was about to ask what was up before he finally spoke.

"You ever fuck in the back of an MFE before?" James shook his head, too stunned by the sudden turn of events to do much else. Keith grinned, devilish and shit stirring and oh James was so fucked.

"Neither have I. Let's fix that."

It was cramped, hot, and humid inside his MFE, and so many different rules were being broken right now but honestly? James could give approximately zero shits at the moment. Not when he was leaning back in the passenger seat, Keith kneeling between his legs and sucking his cock just the way he liked. James moans, fingers combing through Keith's thick hair. How the fuck did he get so good at this? Was that a thing for the Paladins of Voltron, just going around sucking alien cock? Or maybe he was practicing on one of his other Paladins; maybe he was practicing on Shirogane.

James growls low in his throat, grip tightening in Keith's hair. Those two were awfully chummy before Kerberos, and now that Shirogane looked like some sort of Greek god? No wonder Keith's asshole was always so ready to go; he'd been taking Shirogane's monster cock on the regular for years now.

He yelped as a sharp pain shot up his thigh. James glared down at Keith who was currently sucking and licking a dark mark into the meat of his thigh. "The hell you do that for?"

"You spaced out," came Keith's smooth reply. He crawled up James's body, settling himself in the other man's lap. "I'm not doing this cuz I like the smell of sweaty balls you know."

James pointedly looked out the window of the fight yet, trying to ignore the way Keith idly played with the ends of his hair. He could hear the frown in Keith's voice when he spoke again. "What the hell has got you so worked up today?"

"Nothing!" James yelped again as Keith leaned in and bit into his neck. "Would you stop that! It's not my fucking kink!"

"Not what you were saying a couple days ago," Keith mumbles against his skin. He grasps James's chin, yanking him to look him directly in the eyes. "Now tell me."

James sucks in a breath, trying to resist the hypnotic lure of those beautiful eyes. "You and Shirogane ever fuck?"

Keith stares at James for a minute before his face scrunches up. James had seen the face before, when that orange-haired alien dude had cooked something up for the Paladins to try using Earth ingredients. "What? No! Why the fuck would I ever fuck Shiro?"

"Are you blind? Shirogane is hot! Plus…" James averts his eyes. He's not sure why this part embarrasses him, but it does. "You guys have always had that really close weird bond thing going on."

"Oh my God…" Keith mumbles, reaching up to pinch the bridge of his nose. He sighs, "You ever see that really old show Scrubs? Takes place in a hospital with a bunch of interns or some shit?"

James nods; it was Rizavi and Kinkade's favorite old timey television show. Keith continues, "You know that one pair of friends on the show? Scrawny white guy and black surgeon dude? TJ and Thurk?"

"JD and Turk." The correction slips out before James can stop himself; Keith rolls his eyes.

"Whatever, JD and Turk. That's the kind of relationship we have. Definitely, hundred percent gay, we love each other to the ends of the universe and would do whatever it takes to save each other. But we're not in love with each other, alright? He's coping with Adam being dead and all that happened to him, and I'm…"

Keith goes silent, finally averting his eyes from James's face. His jaw and face do that thing from earlier again. James cocks his head to the side, puzzled. "You're…?"

"…Dealing with everything else, I guess," he finally responds quietly. His shoulders are slumped forward; again James is struck just by how vulnerable and small Keith can look when he's not leading them in battle. The thought is gone when Keith resettles in his lap, lining their bare cocks up together in his hand. His eyes are a smoky haze of lust and want; James is starting to wonder if that's just a cover.

"Come on, we gonna finish or what," Keith asks, lazily thrusting against James. James shudders at the feeling, prick perking back up in interest.

"Dunno, the moment is kinda gone," James manages to mumble. Keith merely smirks, the fire of being issued a challenge lighting up in his eyes.

"Then let's bring it back."

More time had passed; the giant robots attacking them had slowed down to a trickle thankfully. Now it was just making alliances and a bunch of other bureaucratic niceties. Which was a pleasant change from the usual "Save the Earth or probably die trying" shtick they'd been doing, except that it kept the Paladins busy. Meaning that it kept Keith busy. Busy, and not needing a good lay to keep his head on straight. Which unfortunately for James meant he had plenty of time to ponder what his life had become and try to find meaningless mundane tasks to fill the time.

("Why are you so obsessed with Scrubs recently? Is this a Keith thing?"

"It is not a Keith thing."

"Oh my God it's a Keith thing.")

Right now he was engaged in his current least favorite way to pass the time; staring up at the ceiling of his room unable to sleep after curfew had been called. After so many years of being on edge, having to be ready to fight at a moment's notice, James had trouble relaxing when the days had been so…mundane. No secret rendezvous with Keith to tire him out, no life or death situations to deplete his mental energy, just nothing but peace.

He hated it.

James groaned, rolling onto the side facing his bedroom, eyes shut tight. No, hate was too strong of a word. He just…had adapted too quickly to wartime life and was now having trouble adapting back. He'd seen the others have the same struggles; they'd walk around aimlessly, looking for something to do but finding nothing. Funny how they were chosen for their skills at adapting to new situations but sucked complete ass at reverting back.

A warm moist puff of air hit James's face; he scrunched his nose at the smell. Why the hell did his room suddenly smell like dog breath? He cracked an eye open only to come face to snout with Kosmo.

"Jesus." He scrambled upright, heart racing. Why the absolute fuck was Kosmo in his room? Sure he'd gotten into the habit of giving the wolf a treat every time he saw him, but that didn't seem special enough to have him break into his room in the middle of the night. Kosmo merely tilted his head, watching James with an otherworldly sense of intelligence. James sighed, reaching forward to ruffle his fur.

"I dunno what you want, but you should go ba-" A sudden pulling sensation deep in his gut, and soon James found himself sitting in a corner of the Garrison gym in his boxers and undershirt. He whipped his head back and forth, trying to grapple with the realization that he was here and not in his bed. He glared at Kosmo, who was quietly curled up in front of him looking innocent of any crimes.

"Hey, what was that for?!"

"James?"

His spine stiffened; he recognized that voice all too well. He turned towards the source of the voice, eyes the size of dinner plates. He watched as Keith walked over, hair pulled back in a low ponytail, sweat running down his face and soaking the sleeveless undershirt he wore. He noticed how his hands were taped, but more importantly he noticed how low his pants rode on his hips.

"The hell are you doing in here?"

Keith's voice had him snapping to attention. He gestured wildly at Kosmo. "I…y-your stupid dog came into my room and brought me here!"

Keith narrowed his eyes at Kosmo; Kosmo gave an uninterested yawn. "I thought I told you not to wake people up?"

"Actually I was already awake," James offered; even after being kidnapped by a wolf he felt the need to make sure Keith knew it followed the rules. Keith blinked, apparently taken aback by the statement, before looking to Kosmo again. Kosmo stood up to stretch before walking forward to Keith. He bumped his head against Keith's hand, clearly looking for affection.

"I'm not petting you just because you know what a loophole is," Keith chided; Kosmo's ears lowered, a whine coming from him. "Don't give me that look! You know exactly what I meant when I said that. Now take him back to his room."

James swears up and down that Kosmo gets the same defiant look in his eyes that Keith gets before promptly turning away from him. With head and tail held high he walks over to James, plops himself in his lap, and immediately does not do what Keith asked of him. James and Keith both stare at Kosmo in confusion; Keith growls.

"No, that's not-Stop petting him, you're reinforcing bad behavior!"

James pulled his hand away from the soft fur, looking up sheepishly at Keith. He honestly hadn't even realized he was doing it until Keith called him out. "Sorry…"

Keith groans, walking over to sit beside him. He slides down the wall, shirt riding up as he sits, legs spread out in front of him. This close James can smell the pungent scent of sweat and body odor, dizzy from its force. Keith leans his head back against the wall, eyes slipping closed. The gym fills with silence; James begins petting Kosmo again.

"Why are you in here anyway?" The question claws its way out of his throat no matter how much he tried to hold it back. "Curfew's been in effect for a couple hours now."

"Couldn't go back to sleep," is the blunt response Keith gives. James looks over at him, observing the way he tenses at the question. How his body seemed poised to strike at a moment's notice. It was so eerily similar to how he was as a child that James finds himself giving into his old habits of prodding when he shouldn't.

"Why?"

Keith's jaw tenses, hands clenching and unclenching into fists. James can tell he's at war with himself, fighting a battle to tell a lie or a truth. It's odd, watching Keith actually think before he moves. James had only ever known him to act rashly without a thought for the consequences. It was what made him a thorn in everyone's side, yet at the same time made him such an incredible pilot. As the silence and battle stretched on, James pressed further.

"Keith…"

"Because of the nightmares," Keith finally shouts; James jumps, startling Kosmo. Keith runs his fingers through his hair, eyes trained on the ground as he continued to speak.

"Because when I close my eyes I see my team dying, I see Shiro dying, or that stupid fight in that God forsaken factory, or my mom dying just within reach or," Keith heaves a breath, fingers gripping the material of his pants, "or an entire planet being blown up because the Galra have just gotten that powerful now."

"These alliance meetings…I know they're important, know that they can change history, but they just…they make it impossible to exhaust myself so I can just black-out in bed."

Realization dawns on James; he grips Kosmo's fur harder than necessary. "That's why we're sleeping together, isn't it?"

Keith nods, head still bowed as if in shame. James frowns as he processes the information, smoothing the ruffle he made in Kosmo's fur. He's not sure why this surprises him; maybe it's because Keith has never failed to give off an air of confident nonchalance. Maybe it's because he never suspected Keith of all people to use sex as a coping mechanism. Maybe it's because he never thought Keith would involve him in any of his recovery steps. Either way he's here and a choice needs to be made.

James turns towards Keith, reaching out with the hand not buried in Kosmo's fur. He tilts Keith's head up before slanting his mouth against his. He feels the way Keith freezes beneath his touch, lips chapped and slightly parted. Knows the exact moment Keith melts, moving his mouth in an all too familiar dance, allowing him to slip his tongue in. Shudders at the intimate feel of them meeting in the middle, twining around each other in greeting, combined with a tingling sensation in his stomach. Surprised when a sudden force has him pushing Keith down into…a mattress?

James pulls back, panting as he takes in their surroundings. They were back in his room, Kosmo nowhere in sight. He must have teleported them back before going back to Keith's room. He looks back to Keith, taking in the sight of cheeks flushed with something other than physical exertion, black hair spread out in a halo around his face. He traces his thumb reverently over the scar he came back with before daring to speak.

"You take care of the universe," he murmurs; he settles more on top of Keith, straddling his hips. "Now, let me take care of you."

A barely perceptible nod from Keith has James leaning back down to reconnect their mouths. He slips a hand under Keith's shirt as their tongues pick up where they had left off. His skin is still tacky with sweat from the workout he did; James feels a desperate need to run his tongue over those hardened muscles. He pushes Keith's shirt up higher, breaking the kiss only to remove it. He quickly yanks his own off, tossing them both to some part of the room before focusing back on Keith.

In the wake of Keith's admission, the scars that mar his body tell a new tale to James. They tell the story of a man who'd give everything and anything to save the universe from tyranny. They speak testaments to his utter selflessness, how he puts lives above his own and asks for nothing in return. Before James had simply thought they were attractive, marks of his prowess as a warrior and ability to survive. Now though, he thinks as he traces the scar on his cheek and shoulder with his eyes, now he just hopes that someone had been there to soothe the hurts he suffered.

He presses a gentle kiss to the scar before peppering kisses down his neck. It's different from the other times, no harsh bites or crudely given hickies. Tonight isn't about staking claims or taking frustrations out on each other's bodies. Tonight it's about simply being there, taking care of the wounds they can't see. Again James is reminded of that night they shared so long ago; he realizes then that he hadn't treated Keith like he should have, like he had wanted to. He presses a kiss to the scar on his right shoulder, so dangerously close to his pulse point.

"I'm sorry." The apology is almost lost in the harsh panting Keith provides. James feels fingers carding through his hair, blunt nails gently scraping his scalp.

"…For what," comes the hoarse reply. James looks up, eyes locking onto Keith's. He shrugs, hand idly moving to stroke at his abdomen; Keith's muscles contract.

"For not treating you right," he finally managed, moving to kiss a more recent scar further down. He continues moving, pressing kisses along every trace of injury, old and new, speaking between the kisses. The hand in his hair tightens as he moves ever close to Keith's cock.

"That night, after the pilot error…I should've been kinder to you. I shouldn't have said all the things I said to you, before or during. I know it doesn't fix anything, but you deserve to know."

The silence in the room is palpable, thick enough to cut with a knife. James wonders if Keith will shove him off now and tell him never touch him again. He's surprised when he hears a isgh, and the hand in his hair pets him instead.

"I…" The hand stutters, before resuming its pace, "I'm sorry too. I know I wasn't the easiest to get along with, and…I shouldn't have left you that night. At least, not like that."

James dares to look up; Keith is looking off to the side, finding the corner of his bed absolutely fascinating. He sees that vulnerable side Keith so rarely shows, and knows that he should tread carefully here. Still, seventeen-year-old James wants answers, wants to know why he was abandoned when all he tried to do was be kind.

"So why did you," he asks as softly as he can manage, moving back up his body. Keith shrugs, still not making eye contact.

"I dunno, I was…scared? I didn't know what would happen after, and I already was going to leave, so I just…did."

James cups his face again. "You scared now?"

"Absolutely terrified." Keith's Adam's apple bobs as he swallows, leaning into the touch. "But…I don't want to stop."

James huffs, reaching over to grab the lube and condoms he keeps on his night stand. "That makes two of us then," He uncaps the lube; Keith begins to shimmy out of his pants and boxers at the sound, "So at least…we can be scared together."

He pulls his own boxers down, exposing his hard cock nestled in brown curly pubic hair to the air. He rolls the condom down, wanting to be prepared as soon as Keith is slicked and stretched. He takes his time loosening Keith, using one finger at first before gradually moving to two, then three. He never paid much attention to the sounds Keith made before and he curses himself profusely. The moans, the high pitched mewls he makes when James manages to strike his prostate, the expressions he makes on his face as he basks in pleasure…it's enough to have him grasping the base of his dick to keep from cumming too soon. The rest is a blur; he's only back to full awareness when he's pushing inside Keith.

The feeling of that familiar wet heat gripping him tightly, coupled with the flood of newly discovered feelings has James feeling like it's his first time all over again. Perhaps in a way it is; perhaps this was life giving them a second chance at something incredible. He reaches up, fingers lacing with Keith's as he sets a slow pace, moans mingling beautifully with the punched out cries from Keith. With every thrust inside him James feels the balance of their relationship shift, changing from something to casual to something deeper than either of them ever dared to dream of. It brings a pleasure far greater than any physical action has ever wrought. He reaches down, taking Keith's cock in his hand and stroking it, coaxing a gasp and moan from the man beneath him.

"James," Keith pants; his hands grip tighter to his shoulders, legs moving to wrap around his hips to pull him in deeper. "I can't…I'm gonna-ah!"

James slants his mouth over Keith's milking him slowly through his orgasm. He feels his own drawing ever closer, abdomen drawing tight. His pace speeds up ever so slightly and, with a shout of Keith's name, he spills inside the condom. Panting he rests, pulling away from Keith's mouth; he chuckles as he sees that just like before Keith has already passed out in his bed, chest rising and falling steadily. He slowly pulls out and makes quick work of cleaning the both of them up. He pulls the covers up, and allows himself to fall asleep to the sight of Keith in his bed.

In the morning James presses himself against Keith's back with a kiss to his shoulder, intertwining their fingers together, and feels like old wounds will finally begin to heal.

A/N: Here lies me, found dead in Miami cuz of this fic.