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Winter descends on them with a thunderous, lightning-charged boom.
"I don't think it's supposed to storm on Christmas Eve," Lance points out grimly, holding one of the candles up to the frosted , grey-tinted window. Their electricity has been out for a couple of hours, but thankfully, it's not freezing cold and there are plenty of alternative lighting solutions.
He decides to walk around downstairs, pacing the hallway with "Twisted Peppermint" and peeking out to the whiteout conditions as Keith lights up "Gingerbread Cookies" and "Mulberry Delight" in silence.
Keith's match slowly curdles away into flamelight and ash, before he shakes it out harshly, burning the tips of his own fingers. "Hey, watch it," Lance scolds him gently when Keith hisses out, holding up his massive and scented candle and grasping over Keith's hand, soothingly rubbing his palm with a thumb. "You could set this whole place on fire — and you — and then what am I supposed to do?"
"Steal my 'Best Dad Ever' coffee mug?"
"That's my mug, thank you very much," Lance retorts, quiet enough to nearly be missed by the ongoing winter storm, his rosy-brown lips perking up. He brings up Keith's opposite left hand to his lips and softly mouthing over Keith's ring finger, teeth bumping over the heavy, gleaming gold.
"Nah, it's definitely mine."
Lance's own ring illuminates, flashing deep within Keith's blown-up pupils.
He's too pretty. Lance won't ever voice that aloud, but dating and shacking up with this man can be near-tortuous when all Lance really wants is Keith to willingly ride his dick for hours.
(They've done it. Multiple times. It's how they ended up with their baby upstairs in his crib.)
Keith gets self-conscious easily, and he loses his temper when embarrassed or upset. Getting reintroduced to higher levels of testosterone after giving birth doesn't prepare Keith mentally, also battling postpartum — which is why Lance encourages him to wear vertical stripes and uneven patterns, jackets and sweaters and fitted pants. Anything to help Keith ease into his new transitioning.
They narrowly avoid crashing into the tree, freshly cut and decorated with turquoise and crimson baubles, stumbling and kissing each other, Lance's muscular arms tightening around Keith's back.
"God, I want you," he mumbles, pulling his tongue out of Keith's mouth long enough to breath, and then thrusting back in, feeling Keith's tongue rolling and laving over his.
"Then do something about it," Keith pants out.
Lance's hands grip onto Keith's snowflake-pale pajama bottoms, diving underneath the fabric to stroke over Keith's bare, warm flesh. Lance feels him moan, rutting up against Lance's erection straining through his own matching pajamas - fuck, fuck, Lance wants Keith to be achingly full, shouting and bouncing on top of him, quivering and releasing Lance until Keith is dripping wet.
Lance remembers the night they conceived their child, during the hottest August summer on record last year. He slept without any clothes, just like Keith did, since their AC did little to help. Keith woke him up, complaining about the heat, muddling out a weakened noise while drowning in Lance's insistent kiss.
Eventually, Keith was leaking copiously against Lance's thigh, and not just the hot stink of sweat.
He turned Keith over and pressed between his legs, groaning and jerking their hips until Lance felt the pressure in his gut threatening to release. He eased himself into Keith as his husband yelled, either orgasming or surprised by the pain, shuddering on his hands and knees.
Keith never wanted to get pregnant, but Lance adored the sight of Keith yawning and half-awake in the mornings, waddling the kitchen, his huge and round belly exposed by his too-small, black tee.
His dick hardens further at the memory, and when a thinly smiling Keith drops to his knees, yanking down Lance's bottoms. Keith's tongue pokes out of his ruddy mouth, licking in small, concentrated laps until his husband grabs Keith's mussed, soft hair, urging Keith, setting the frantic pace in Keith's opened, drooling mouth. Lance goes shallow at first, giving him time to adjust before deepthroating Keith, swearing gleefully.
"You mind not getting that crap in my nose?" Keith mutters, sniffling and wiping his face as Lance joins him on the rug. They make themselves comfortable by the crackling, glowing fireplace.
Lance huffs out, laughing and draping his arm to Keith's middle, pulling him close.
"Sorry, babe."
Once the lights return, they'll finish up the apple cider and procrastinate on nailing up wreaths and other decorations, twisting themselves in rainbow-hued Christmas lights, and Lance will get distracted by Keith's sex-flushed features and his blunt and somewhat mean remarks until their son cries to be fed.
The holidays have never been more amazing.
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Voltron isn't mine. TIME FOR THE PALADIN SECRET SANTA 2K18! IT'S BEEN A GOOD TIME SEEING HOW IT HAS DONE! I ended up with my1aliasnsfw on Tumblr as my giftee and woo! Hope they like it! Hope any Klance shippers popping in also like this! Any comments/thoughts are deeply appreciated! :)