-x-

chasing the feeling of being held

-x-

Trying to find a concealer that actually works with his skin tone is next to impossible in space. Sure, Lance manages to find the perfect blend of herbs and minerals or whatever to make absolutely GREAT facial scrubs and moisturizers and soaps, but a concealer that actually blends without making him break out in some horrible, alien rash? The most aggravating thing Lance has experienced since being whisked away from planet Earth, and it's been three years. He frowns at the mirror as he leans against the bathroom sink, turning his head, tipping his chin up to expose the line of his throat.

Normally, he doesn't mind a couple of hickies, but Keith doesn't usually mark up his neck like this. His stomach, hips, and thighs get most of Keith's attention, and even then Keith is always so gentle with him that the bloom of small, red bruises aren't very prominent and don't linger very long.

Keith's never bitten him hard before.

Lance is beginning to think he shouldn't have asked him to, because the bruise on his neck, at the juncture of his shoulder, is… It's impressive, to say the least. The longer Lance looks at it, the more he also begins to think he needs to put a bandage on it and not bother with concealer at all.

He can see the deep indents that Keith's teeth left behind, and it actually looks like his canines might have broken the skin. The surrounding area is puffy, several shades of purple and blue bleeding into one another. Lance gives in and pokes the edge of the bruise, wincing. He moves his fingers to feel at the bite marks and can barely even stand to touch it, his nerves all tender and aching at the slightest amount of pressure. Dried bits of bright red flake away when he comes to the two perfectly spaced indents, and the sharp pain is enough to make Lance suck in a breath.

He drops his hand, rubbing his fingers together.

Definitely broke the skin...

He and Keith are just getting to that point in their relationship where they're starting to get more exploratory with their sexual endeavors. Lance has suspected for a while that he might enjoy being pinned down as long as he got cuddled afterward - and Keith did not disappoint. He was hesitant about being more forceful at first, but once Lance starting responding positively and encouraging him to be a little rougher, he relaxed about it and seemed more than happy to give Lance what he wanted. This ugly bruise, and the resulting (literal) headache, is really putting a damper on the good time they had last night, and Lance frowns at it.

By now, he's pulled himself up onto the bathroom counter to get as close to the mirror and under the light as possible, sitting on his knees.

This is when Keith walks in.

He freezes in the doorway, makes an abrupt backward movement that immediately draws Lance's attention away from his own reflection. Keith is standing stock still when Lance looks over at him, but Lance can't shake the feeling that he was about to bolt. His shoulders are tense and his head is down, eyes darting nervously around the floor without settling.

He's been like this all morning.

He won't even look at Lance.

Lance chews his bottom lip for a second, then prompts, "Hey. Did you need something?"

Keith lifts his head slightly, bangs still fallen in his face, and cuts his eyes to the side. Lance is watching him openly from his place on the countertop, so he sees the way Keith glances toward him and then quickly away, and something unhappy gets stirred up in Lance's chest. He knows Keith is just feeling guilty. He doesn't know how many times he can say that it's fine.

"I was -" Keith stops abruptly. His voice must be too loud to him, because he lowers it before he goes on, "Hunk said you hadn't been to breakfast yet… I just wanted to check on you."

"I didn't realize I was taking so long," Lance admits with some surprise, glancing down at himself.

He's still in his bathrobe. He had meant to take a shower, and he got distracted. Lance turns back to the mirror, his brow creasing as his hand lifts back to his neck. He looks at Keith again, tries to smile and make light of this whole awkward situation when he points to the grizzly bite mark coloring his neck and says, "Still trying to figure out how you did this, to be honest."

"I'm sorry," Keith's voice is tight. He seems to shrink.

"Keith, I said it was okay," Lance says earnestly, "I asked you to bite me."

"Not like that."

Okay that's… fair. And really it had been more of a suggestion than a request. But Lance hadn't really registered the bite until afterwards. His orgasm had been that good, the deep pain bleeding seamlessly into the curls of pleasure quaking through his body. If anything, it had added to the feeling. It's pretty embarrassing, actually. Lance presses the back of his hand against his heated face, thinking about how gently Keith had held onto him afterwards.

Keith had rubbed his hands down Lance's thighs, up his back, until he'd stopped trembling. Keith had kissed and lapped at his neck until the sting of the fresh bite had faded and Lance was boneless in his arms. Lance remembers folding his arms around Keith's shoulders and nuzzling his face into Keith's sweaty hair and murmuring I love you, I love you, I love you so much, Keith until he fell asleep; remembers feeling so content and so safe and so loved.

Oh jeez, Lance thinks. He drags his hands down his face. A painful throbbing in his neck at the motion diverts his attention to a more appropriate place, and Lance shifts around on the counter, throwing his legs over the side and sitting on the edge.

"Come over here," he says to Keith.

Keith hesitates, still standing in the middle of the doorway, and Lance is worried for one horrible moment that Keith will refuse. He doesn't, but the steps he takes toward Lance are careful. He's still avoiding eye contact, and he stays a single step back from the counter. Lance points to the cabinet in the corner that he can't reach from here, says, "Grab the first aid kit for me."

Keith hesitates again, his eyes widening. His gaze flicks up, grazing Lance's neck without lingering long enough to actually see how bad it is. He swallows hard and then goes to open the cabinet, pulling down the small white and blue box and bringing it to where Lance is still sitting on the counter by the sink. Lance takes the box and pops it open, picking out the disinfectant pads, a numbing solution, and a bandage big enough to cover the bruise.

Lance hands the packet of disinfectant pads to Keith, who is hovering just outside his reach. Keith's shoulders flinch, a small jump of surprise, his brow creasing as he stares down at the packet and processes Lance's unspoken request. After a few seconds, he takes it with a trembling hand, stepping closer to the counter and closer to Lance with his head down, his eyes heavily lidded and dark and wet, like this is a punishment he thinks he deserves.

His fingers are shaking so much he can't even tear the packet open. Lance takes pity on him, his heart tearing in two much easier than the fiber plastic. He tries to pull it out if Keith's hands, but Keith won't let go of it, his grip suddenly fierce. He's staring down at it and can't seem to drag his eyes up.

Lance waits to see how long it will take, but eventually says, gently, "Keith. I'm not upset."

Keith pulls in a shuddering breath, his hands stilling.

"I'm…. I'm upset," he says, exhaling.

"I know. Tell me why," Lance says. Unable to stop himself, he reaches out to clasp Keith's hands between both of his. "Keith, it's not going to sound stupid."

"I don't - I don't know… I didn't…." Lance doesn't interrupt, lets Keith gather his thoughts and let them out at his own pace, fumbling, under his breath, "I don't know why I bit you like that. I felt… I felt… kind of different. I wanted to - I wanted - " Keith swallows, the tips of his ears turning red, the color high in his cheekbones. "I wanted to bite you but not… that hard. I didn't mean to hurt you."

"You didn't hurt me," Lance says. He tightens his grip when Keith tenses. "Keith, you didn't hurt me. It didn't hurt. I barely felt it. If anything it - " It's Lance's turn to blush, but he blurts it out anyway, "It felt good. Like really good. I mean. It hurts now. My head is killing me. But when you bit me it - it didn't. It didn't hurt. I wasn't scared or anything. I didn't think you had hurt me. I didn't even know how bad it was until I woke up and my neck was all sore, but like - I'm sore everywhere. But! No, like! A good sore! Y'know? I mean - you didn't - Keith, you didn't do anything to me that I didn't want you to do," Lance finishes in a rush, his heart racing, words drawing several different responses out of Keith.

He flinches in places, he tries to pull back. Lance keeps him desperately anchored by the hands, and realizes he's shaking now, too.

He didn't mean for this to be a big thing.

Maybe they should have talked about it a little more...

"Keith, I would have told you to stop if you were hurting me, I would have told you to stop if I didn't like it. Did I…." Fear drops like a stone into the pit of Lance's stomach and sends a cold feeling washing over him. "Did I… Keith, did I make you do something that you didn't want to do? Last night? I mean, I - I know you were kinda hesitant about…. about holding me down and stuff, but I thought - "

Keith's head snaps up - finally, that's the thing that does it. Lance's choked and fearful voice, his hands trembling as he lets go of Keith's hands, realizing that he might have done something very wrong. He might have pushed Keith into something that he hadn't wanted to do, or wasn't ready to do. That's a thing he's always been worried about, because he knows Keith only enjoys sex because Lance enjoys sex; he knows Keith doesn't think about it or want it the same way that he does.

But he doesn't understand.

Keith is quiet in all the ways Lance is loud.

Lance is vocal and physical and open with his affection. He loves Keith with everything that he has, in every way that he can, and sex is just another aspect of that for him. It's another way to show Keith how much he loves him and how happy he is, and Lance doesn't understand how something that felt so good before can suddenly make him feel so bad right now.

Was he the only one that felt like that? Was he the only one that felt safe and loved?

Lance's arms close around himself, automatically chasing the feeling of being held the way he wants - the way he needs - and he doesn't realize how close to tears he is until Keith is grabbing him firmly, fingers closing over the back of Lance's hands.

"Oh, Lance, no. No, that's not - that's not why I'm upset! I wanted to! I always - okay, I don't always want to when you do, but if I don't, I know I can say no and you don't get mad at me. But I mean, I was - I was kind nervous about - about being rough with you, but you told me - you said it felt good, and I know you would have told me not to do it if you didn't like it, I just - I feel like I - I snapped. At some point. I - I bit you so hard, Lance. I feel like I lost control when I shouldn't have. I just didn't want to hurt you. If I really hadn't been comfortable with all the rest, I would have told you. I - "

Keith stops himself suddenly, and Lance has caught his heaving breath to listen.

"You didn't make me do anything I didn't want to do, Lance," Keith says, "I just felt like - like I'm the one that took it too far. I don't know what came over me."

"Okay," Lance says, voice shaking, face wet, "You didn't hurt me."

"Okay," Keith agrees.

Some of the panic eases out of Keith's expression as he looks at Lance, finally allowing the words to sink in through that thick head of his, and Lance feels his own anxiety quiet some. Keith reaches up, brushing the back of his fingers over Lance's cheek to wipe away the tears drying there.

It's easier to breathe by the time Keith takes his hand away. He drops it to hover just over the edge of the bruise, his eyes following the movement, his eyebrows knitting together. Lance sits still and lets him look at it. He seems like he's trying to work out how he feels about it. Keith's fingers brush over the tender welts in the center and Lance flinches at the unexpected contact. He puts his hand on Keith's arm, grounding him there in case Keith gets any stupid ideas about pulling away.

But Keith surprises him by doing the opposite.

He presses down with two fingers, drags them over the swell of the bruise, following the slope of Lance's shoulder, watching the play of dark colors shift under the pressure and bloom anew over Lance's skin. Lance's shoulder jerks, and he pushes his lips together to suppress a noise. It comes out as a confused hum, because it hurts with Keith pressing on it, sends an ache deep into his neck and shoulder, his headache pounding away - but it throbs inside his chest, too, and drops lower into his stomach, past his naval, kicking up a lingering warmth.

Okay, Lance thinks, a bit hysterical as he breathes in through his nose. He didn't think he'd be as into that as he apparently is. He doesn't want to freak Keith out or anything, so he decides to keep that mental note to himself. It's just that, he is not good at hiding things from Keith anymore, and Keith is looking right at him, watching his face.

"You okay?" he asks, his fingers dropping away because Lance pushes at his wrist.

"Yeah. Don't- poke it like that."

"Sorry," Keith says, smirking. Lance's cheeks heat up and he deliberately turns his face away. "Can I try something real quick?"

"Sure," Lance says, surprising them both with the fast response. He tries to cover it up, stammering a weak excuse, "But, um - breakfast? And I still need to take a shower…."

"I'm not going to start getting frisky with you." Lance snorts at the stupid phrasing, but Keith is smiling. "I just…. I wanted to try something."

"Alright," Lance says.

Keith grabs the back of Lance's thighs and pulls him closer to the edge of the counter, easing his legs further apart so Keith can fit snugly in between them. Lance is reminded yet again that he's only wearing this thin bathrobe, tied loosely closed, when Keith slips his hand inside the collar and pushes it open further, exposing more of his shoulder. He puffs out a laugh when Keith pulls him into a close hug, next, when he presses the side of his face against Lance's neck.

"I thought you weren't getting frisky with me," Lance says, winding his arms around Keith's shoulders.

"Well. Not on purpose."

"I'm not complaining," Lance laughs.

There's a small laugh from Keith in answer, and Lance relaxes even more. Keith kisses his neck, just a slight brush of his lips below Lance's ear, along the line of his throat, moving down slowly until he gets close to the bite mark at the curve of Lance's shoulder. Lance's heart is beating with anticipation when Keith pauses there, and then Keith fits his open mouth over the perfect matching mark, warm and wet. Lance jerks involuntarily, pulling up handfuls of Keith's shirt, the bruise throbbing.

It hurts, but something familiar, something hot and electric, pools between Lance's legs, makes his knees hug Keith's hips a little tighter and a breathless noise escape his lips. As if gripped with some instinct, Keith licks at the bruise the same way he did last night, pressing gently with his tongue and soothing over it. He doesn't suck on it, raising the heat, doesn't graze the tender skin with his teeth, and after a few seconds Lance shivers, relaxing entirely. He drops his head to one side, resting it against his arm on Keith's shoulder, to give Keith better access.

Okay. It doesn't hurt so much when he does that. It stings a bit, Keith's warm tongue easing over the small wounds his teeth left behind with infinite care, but it's… weirdly comforting.

Like weirdly comforting.

Keith's hands smooth up and down Lance's back, and Lance closes his eyes again.

Now that Lance is thinking about it, the biting thing might actually be a Galra thing. He's noticed some physical changes in Keith over the past few months, even if Keith doesn't seem to have noticed them himself. The teeth, first of all. His canines are sharper (exhibit a: Lance's neck). And Keith is… bigger. Broader. Taller. Like he's gone through a post-puberty growth spurt. His hair feels thicker, though it's just as soft and unruly as ever, and Lance swears the black is brighter near the roots, has an almost purple sheen in certain light. Lance has noticed an upsurge in his strength and stamina, as if those weren't already off-the-charts unfair before.

Sometimes during training or a high-stress mission, there's a yellow flicker in his eyes, but it's gone before Lance can blink.

Keith said he felt like he "snapped". Maybe playing a more dominant role last night triggered something neither of them were anticipating, but Lance can't bring himself to see it as a bad thing.

He loves Keith no matter what.

So he tells him that, the soft, "I love you," muffled in the collar of Keith's shirt.

Keith pauses, as if caught doing something he shouldn't be. He passes his tongue over the bruise one more time, presses his lips against it and stills his hands. Even the way he smells is different. Not in a bad way, and Lance can't pin down what, specifically, is different about it, but it's…better, he guesses. Keith's hair is tickling his nose, his scent stronger than ever from his morning exercise.

"You smell good," Lance says, feeling oddly dazed from the attention - or maybe it's the way Keith smells, or maybe it's both. He's not complaining. Even his headache has eased up.

"I don't stink?" Keith sounds surprised, because that's normally what he hears when he forgets to shower after training. Lance usually wrinkles his nose and pushes him away, he doesn't snuggle closer. Keith's hand runs up the curve of Lance's back, following his spine, a comforting weight. He glances down at the bruise. "Does that… feel better?"

"Yeah?"

"Does it?"

"Yeah," Lance says, more sure the second time around, if only because Keith sounds like he can't believe it. He picks his head up from Keith's shoulder, sitting back enough that they can look at each other. His eyes are heavy. He hasn't even been awake that long, and he's tired? So weird. "You want to carry me back to bed and cuddle a while?"

Keith looks at him, surprised, and then he actually laughs - a full, throaty laugh that sharpens Lance's awareness a bit and has him grinning back, lifting a hand to rub his eyes.

"I think you've had enough," Keith says once he calms down. He hasn't moved away, his hands resting on Lance's thighs, expression thoughtful as he stares at Lance's throat. "I don't know what I did to you. Maybe we should go ask Coran, he knows more about this stuff than we do."

"What stuff?" Lance asks, just to be sure they're on the same page.

"Galra stuff?" Keith sounds unsure, and Lance's realizes he's just now piecing everything together.

He's been pretty bewildered by the small things Lance has already taken notice of or pointed out, passing them off as random or flukes, as if afraid of the reality. This has been months and months in the making, and all of that has finally culminated here, into a bright blue bruise coloring Lance's neck, and it's no longer possible for Keith to deny that something is happening.

"You sure it doesn't hurt?" Keith asks.

"Not anymore," Lance says, "Which is pretty weird. I was going to have you clean it for real, though. You kind of broke the skin."

"I noticed. Believe me." Keith winces, but doesn't apologize again. He seems to consider something for a moment, his gaze dropping to Lance's lap, where he's fiddling with the tail of the fabric tied around Lance's waist. "I don't… want you to cover it up."

"What?"

Keith's face reddens with embarrassment, and his eyes dart off to the side, but his eyebrows draw together determinedly.

"That's what the bandage was for, wasn't it?"

"Yeah."

"I don't…. Want you to do that."

Lance lifts his hand to his neck, effectively covering the mark, and he sees the way Keith's expression changes, though it's subtle. He doesn't like not being able to see it, Lance realizes, that weird warm feeling curling in his chest again. Keith's not usually possessive or jealous - Lance is.

"I just didn't want the others to see it and make you feel bad about it," he explains, trying not to smile, "Also, my shirt. It's not exactly in a great spot. I didn't want anything to rub up against it."

"Yeah, I figured. I'm not - I'm not saying don't do it, I just don't… want you to? Is that weird…?"

"Yeah, it's kinda weird," Lance says, grinning now. He grabs onto Keith's arms when he groans, annoyed, and starts to step away. He tips to one side, playfulness dripping into his tone, "Did you bite me so everyone would know who I belong to?"

Keith yelps, "N-no!"

Lance can tell he's in the right ballpark by the way Keith's face heats up and his mouth presses together, his eyes wide and directed at Lance's knees rather than his face, or his neck. Maybe he didn't do it on purpose. But he still did it. Keith is only half Galra, maybe less. It's funny that his base instincts and more alien traits are showing through in early adulthood, just when he's starting to feel balanced in his mind and body, and Lance can't help teasing him about it.

"Is this your way of proposing to me? Saying you want to spend the rest of your life with me? Because it's kinda kinky, mullet head."

Keith manages a frown at that. He takes the proposal jokes pretty seriously.

Lance's expression softens.

"You could have just asked," he adds.

"Your first guess was closer," Keith deadpans, his embarrassment lost in the spring of annoyance.

Lance laughs, latching onto his hands again.

"Are we done? Are we over this? Are we all good?"

"I guess."

"Are we?"

"Yeah, Lance."

"Good, because I really need a shower." Lance starts packing away the first aid kit after dropping Keith's hands, and Keith steps back to give him room to slide down from the counter. "I fell asleep right after and everything feels kind of gross now. I still can't believe you didn't wake me up! You just let me sleep like that. Heartless."

"You didn't have too many complaints until this morning," Keith points out. He takes the first aid kit from Lance, leaning back on the counter. "Did you want…?"

"Nah, it's fine," Lance says, grinning as he shucks the robe altogether and showing off an array of smaller bruises and tamer bite marks that Keith makes a point of not looking at. Lance turns the shower on, stepping in under the water once it's the right temperature and sliding the door closed. "I'll wear a tank top or something, if you want to see your handiwork."

"You should just put a bandage on it. It's gonna be distracting."

"Stop sending me mixed signals!"

"I don't want you to, but you probably should."

"If it's not gonna upset you to see it, and it's not bleeding anymore, then I don't want to put anything over it. Wounds need to breathe."

"I don't think that's a thing."

"It's definitely a thing."

"We should at least have Coran look at it when you're done. And I need an exam, I guess. Or something. I still feel kind of weird. Like I'm…. humming."

"Humming?"

"Yeah?" Keith waits a beat, asks, "You said I smelled different?"

"I said you smelled good. It was practically putting me to sleep when you were licking me just now. I think that's what you did last night, come to think of it..."

"We definitely need to talk to someone, then."

"You're really not gonna let this go?"

"No, Lance."

"Alright, we'll go after breakfast then."

"Okay," Keith says, relieved as he pulls himself up into the counter to sit, "After breakfast."

-x-

(A/n) I pulled this from a longer fic i'm working on, which i have affectionately dubbed as "the one where Lance and Keith learn to communicate like proper adults and have a healthy, fulfilling relationship" or, in short, The Klance AU. That's not especially relevant, because this stands perfectly fine all by itself, but it's why Keith and Lance are the same age here (early 20s), and why there's no mention of Krolia. I wanted to keep the content of that fic mostly Safe For Work-ish, and sexual stuff isn't usually my thing, anyway, but I'm branching out lately! Trying to flex my writing muscles!

So I thought I would just throw this out there into the ether...!

Reviews are appreciated! Thank you guys for reading!

-bobtac