.
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Hunk doesn't know anything about girls. Or having a girlfriend.
Or having an alien girlfriend.
During his time engineering for the Garrison or monitoring the castleship, he hangs out with Pidge a lot, but… Pidge is Pidge. She's decidedly undecided about what her gender is, if it even exists like people claims it might, and wants to stay that way for a while. Hunk respects that.
Romelle hovers around him, vying for his attention and fervently complimenting his meals and intellect.
It's nothing to be upset about. She's the prettiest alien girl he's ever seen, next to Allura. Hunk tries to act overly confident about her, bragging about his achievements, drinking in her awe.
"Being a paladin must be wonderfully fulfilling," Romelle muses, cradling backwards into Hunk's arms grasping loosely around her waist. Hunk burrows his nose into her honey-blonde hair, inhaling. She smells fragrant like… billows of wildflowers drenched by the sun's light. "Except for when your enemies are chasing you down, or when you can't visit your family for deca-phoebs at a time, or when—"
He simpers, cutting Romelle off.
"Yeah, I get it."
There's no offense taken. She's a bit of a loudmouth and a babbler, and Hunk knows he gets the same way. They can always fill the void. Like when Romelle visits him in the middle of the evening, nude and draped in a opaque sheet of saffron, her eyes dark and round and wanting something unspoken.
Sleepwalking is a thing, but she moves drowsily and with resolve, grinding herself on Hunk's lap. He doesn't know what to do but hold Romelle close, to keep her from falling off the bed. Romelle's mouth slackens open, her cheeks flaming. She dances in a slow-sway aggression on top of him. Hunk swears to himself, trying to get her to stand.
One of her little, pale hands grope between his thighs, sending scorching lightning-heat up Hunk's spine. Romelle murmurs and whimpers, pressing gentle, spit-sucking kisses on his throat.
"What's your favorite color, Hunk?"
Romelle strolls around the hallways like she has no memory of her nighttime visit. He doesn't answer her, biting on his lower lip and scrubbing a palm roughly over his face, ignorant of his girlfriend's pout at his show of apathy. Maybe he should seriously consider rearranging the entry-code to his bunker.
Honey-blonde — all over his lips and face, when they embrace outside the government building. Romelle's hair is gathered up for once and braided messily along the sides of her head, flying in the wind of the hover-carriers roaring above them, heading out for another patrol. "You were right all along," Hunk tells her, his features softening when Romelle laughs out, beaming and sniffling. "Being a paladin is what I'm good at. I want to help people. But it's lonely. I want you here with me, Romelle."
Her arms trap around Hunk's neck, as she leaps against him and dangles on her tiptoes happily, sniffling.
Alien girlfriends are gonna take some getting used to, but… Hunk wants it to work.
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Voltron isn't mine. I'm so soft for them. So so soft. They're so good. Alrighty I'm back to posting some of my entries for Voltron Bingo - NSFW Genre card and I had "Lap dance" to fill for a space and idk somehow it worked! Much thanks for the read and any comments/thoughts are deeply appreciated!