Archive of Our Own ^beta

The atmosphere inside the Yellow Lion was more relaxed than usual. Hunk was at the helm, his wide, carefree smile lighting up the cockpit as he adjusted the controls with a precision that didn't match his relaxed appearance. Lance, always the drama in person, was leaning against a corner of the cabin, throwing trivial comments into the air while Pidge, true to form, pointedly ignored him, immersed in her tablet so as not to get bored during the long trip.

“I told you, Pidge, Yellow is the ideal Lion for a gathering mission,” Hunk commented enthusiastically, puffing out his chest with pride. “Look at the space we have here. It's perfect.”

“It's bigger, yes,” Pidge responded without taking her eyes off her screen, “but the heat in here is unbearable. How can you hold on?”

Hunk frowned and adjusted the ventilation system, although the results were marginal. Lance let out a long dramatic sigh, fanning himself exaggeratedly with his hand.

“Finally someone says it! Why do helmets have to be so suffocating? It's as if they wanted us to melt”.

Pidge let out an exasperated sigh, but before she replied, Hunk announced with a smile, “Get your things ready, we're about to land.” With a slight tremor and the characteristic roar of the Lion adjusting to the planet's atmosphere, the Lion finally touched down on a plain surrounded by rock formations that seemed to levitate in the air.

The Lion's jaws opened with a mechanical hum, revealing a completely foreign landscape. The sky was a mosaic of vibrant colors, reddish and lilac clouds that seemed to move faster than normal. The land was covered by low and strange vegetation, with bluish and silver tones that reflected light like mirrors. On the horizon, floating mountains seemed to defy all known laws of physics.

“Wow!” Lance exclaimed, coming down with his hands on his hips and his eyes scanning the horizon. “This place is like a mix of science fiction and a weird dream.”

“Don't get distracted,” Pidge replied, being the first to land. “We have a list of materials to collect, and I don't want to stay here any longer than necessary.”

Hunk followed Pidge, carrying a backpack he had specially prepared to store the resources they would need. Lance stood closer to the Lion for a moment, removing his helmet with a dramatic “finally” and letting it fall to the floor of the ship. Pidge wanted to respond to his actions, always the voice of reason, when Hunk removed his own.

“It's okay, Pidge. We're fine," he said, holding his helmet under his arm. He wiped the sweat from his forehead with his sleeve and continued forward, ignoring his friend's disapproving look.

The exploration began with slow but sure steps. As they moved forward, the three stopped to observe the strange vegetation and began to fill their bags with fragments of shiny minerals that were scattered on the ground. Some bushes produced fruits that seemed to vibrate to the touch, which fascinated Hunk.

“This is incredible. Look at this color, it's like it's made of liquid crystal!” he said, showing a mineral he had collected to Lance.

Lance, for his part, was more interested in the views. “Those floating mountains? I'm almost sure they don't make any sense,” he said.

Meanwhile, Pidge had walked a few feet ahead, checking her list and comparing samples. Everything seemed to be going smoothly until they began to notice small bugs floating around them, the buzzing noises were a constant annoyance in their ears. They looked like luminous bubbles, with translucent wings that refracted sunlight in little rainbows.

The atmosphere began to become more oppressive. As they entered, the colors of the environment seemed to intensify in an almost hypnotic way. Lance stopped in front of a plant that was emitting a faint glow and reached out, but a snap from the nearby branches made him flinch back.

“What was that?” he asked with a mix of curiosity and alarm.

“I don't know, but don't touch anything that's not on the list,” warned Pidge, who had also heard the noise. In the distance, something small and fast moved among the shadows of the levitating rocks.

Hunk, frowning, looked through the contents of his backpack, making sure everything was in order. “Guys, I have a bad feeling. This place is impressive, but… something doesn’t feel right.”

Suddenly, the ground beneath his feet seemed to tremble slightly, as if something beneath the surface was moving. Pidge looked up from her device and looked around, her sharp eyes picking up details the others might have missed: small holes in the ground that weren't there when they arrived.

“This wasn't like that a moment ago,” she murmured, pointing out the changes in the terrain. It was then that she also noticed that the floating bugs had multiplied, and their glowing wings now seemed to emit a faint rhythmic flicker.

“Holy — !” Lance shouted, taking the hand to the neck. “Something stung me. It hurts like fire!” The other two turned worriedly to see him. That's when Hunk slapped his palm behind his ear.

A gasp came from the Samoan as he began to scratch behind his ear. "Hey? That…? This isn’t normal.”

Pidge turned quickly towards them, alarmed. “Put your helmets on right now. Those bugs could be toxic.”

Lance, already irritated and who had also left his helmet in the Yellow Lion's cabin, protested. “Toxic? They're just little bugs…” but his tone lost strength as he felt a slight tickling spreading through his arms.

Pidge also started to notice something strange. The air, already thick and warm, seemed to grow heavier with each breath. Although she had warned about it, she also gave in to the impulse to take off his helmet. The feeling of suffocation had been too much.

The atmosphere seemed to close in on them as the bugs' buzzing sounds intensified. In the distance, the small movements between the rocks now seemed to be more frequent, as if something was watching them. Pidge exchanged a glance with Hunk and Lance, but failed to hide her growing concern.

The three of them looked at each other, and although Pidge tried to remain calm, the bugs seemed to multiply. A faint hum filled the air, like a veiled threat. Hunk was the first to speak seriously.

“Pidge, tell the Castle. This isn’t normal.”

Without arguing, Pidge activated her communicator, while the three retreated in their steps, the buzz of bugs intensifying around them. 

“Allura, we have a problem.”

“Pidge? What's happening? Are the others okay?” Allura asked on the other side of the line, her tone thick with concern.

“Princess, we're okay… or well, not exactly,” Pidge said, her voice breaking off briefly. She took a deep breath, changing her focus when she saw her words weren’t enough to explain their situation. “We were bitten by bugs from the planet. We don’t know what to do and we still haven’t found what we were looking for.”

Hunk activated his own comm, his tone deeper than usual. “The symptoms aren’t serious, but… they are constant. It’s uncomfortable.”

“Paladins, return to the Castle immediately. And bring one of those bugs back for analysis” Allura replied firmly. The communication was cut off.

Without wasting any time, the three of them hurriedly gathered their things and returned to the Yellow Lion with hurried steps. Pidge, quick as ever, managed to catch one of the bugs in a makeshift bag as they continued on their way.

Inside Leon's cabin, the tingling they felt on their skin only intensified. Sweat soaked their faces and their breathing became heavy, but the pain was still absent. A minor symptom... or the prelude to something worse?

“We're going back to the Castle,” Hunk announced from the controls. His voice carried a tone of urgency. The bags were set aside as Pidge warily guarded the captured bug.

As soon as they landed, Shiro greeted them with a frown. “Guys! What happened out there? Are you okay?” he asked agitatedly.

“We're fine… sort of,” Pidge said. She held up the bag to show him. “This stung us. We don’t know what it is or what effects it could have.”

Keith appeared from a hallway, joining the conversation with a hardened face. “How is it possible? You wore the armor of Paladins. Nothing should have gone through them.” he thought for a moment and then his expression changed, his eyes sparkling with a mixture of irritation and suspicion. “Unless… they were taken away.”

Hunk and Pidge turned to Lance with impeccable timing. “It was Lance's idea!”

"Hey! It was hot! I was suffocating, ok?” Lance defended himself, raising his hands as if he could block the accusations. His tone was sharp, but his cheeks showed a slight blush of embarrassment.

Keith gave him a disappointed look, but said nothing more. Meanwhile, Allura and Coran They came running. The princess's hair flowed behind her, her expression a mix of concern and authority.

“Quick, Paladins. We don't know what could cause this bug bite. There could be unknown toxins. We have to analyze it!” Coran exclaimed as Allura nodded determinedly.

The atmosphere in the room was charged with tension. The two began working immediately, while the rest watched. Long before they could get any results, Lance suddenly staggered. Sweat glistened on his forehead as he lost his balance. Shiro reacted with impeccable reflexes, catching him before he fell to the ground.

“The results might take a while,” Allura announced, her voice solemn as her eyes followed the Paladins' movements. “It is best that all of you rest for now. You spent almost the entire day on that planet and we need to know more before acting.”

Shiro, still holding Lance, nodded, but his expression reflected something deeper: concern. What were they really facing?

Lance gave a brief gesture to let the leader know that he was now okay and could release him. Shiro accepted and when the Cuban broke free of his grip, his legs began to move in the direction of his room. 

His body felt heavy and the feeling of fever went to his head in a few seconds. When he had finally reached the door that led to his room, he placed his head against the cold metal to rest it momentarily. Soon, he leaned back and the doors opened to let him pass.

He buried himself in bed, but not before removing the Paladin armor that was suffocating him from the inside out. His skin felt naked against the cold air in the room and with this he decided to adjust the temperature, falling asleep in moments against his pillow.

Then the dreams began.

Lance doesn't regret anything when he has these dreams, the feeling it generates throughout his body is pleasant and he feels like he can breathe another day. He feels hungry for more, more and more. His body craves and seeks this sensation, and buries itself deeper when he finally finds it.

However, this sensation had never felt so intense before, not like now. He accepts it silently, although it had taken him a while to come out of his denial and there were times when he couldn't look directly at the protagonist of his dreams. The images begin to fill in, as does a fire that flutters in his chest every time he looks at Keith across the room.

The one with whom he had always argued, to whom he had always disagreed. He doesn't usually have these dreams very often, but when he does, everything is brief and over too quickly for his liking. The wet feeling pooling on his thighs, the jerking movements, the marks decorating his skin – it's all a second before he’s awake again. But now, it's different. Now it’s more durable.

He can't help it. 

His dream resembles a paradise. He doesn't want to wake up. His dream is filled with Keith, Keith and only Keith. And he can't help but submit. He’s vulnerable to the other.

The first scene takes place on the bed in his own room: it had begun with rough kisses and fiery touching. Keith's hands, covered in his familiar fingerless gloves, grip his bare waist and the leather gives his skin a sensation that he is immediately addicted to. He buries his hands in the other's mullet, tangling his fingers in the hair and pulling hard as moans and gasps come out the moment Keith joins their tongues in an enthusiastic kiss.

Keith's clothes are still stuck to his body from sweat, except for his jacket that didn't even seem to be visible. The dream feels so vivid that he can't help but want and take in more. He submits.

Keith pushes him onto the bed and Lance spreads his legs, exposing himself to the other. The older lowers his pants a few centimeters and his shirt rides up with the movement to reveal a trail of black hair that goes further down his boxers. Lance reaches out, longing to touch the skin, but then Keith kneels in front of him and moves his arms to wrap around his legs and pull him to the edge of the bed, toward his mouth. Keith devours it hastily, his tongue burying itself deep in it as if he's tasting it. As if he were enjoying his favorite food.

Lance can do nothing but hold on tightly to the bed covers as he tries to beg coherent words, but all that comes out of his mouth are disappointing moans that fill the room. Keith soon sticks two of his fingers next to his tongue, loosening it to be able to receive his cock. He can't believe that on the first try, the tips of Keith's fingers brush against his prostate and he swears, because he feels a smile where the other is pressing his mouth against his ass, that he’s playing with him when he doesn't give him enough to cum. Lance is always on edge.

And that's when Keith takes his tongue out of his hole, and presses hard on his fingers, folding them at the right angle, which is at that precise moment that Lance cries against the bed. He tilts his face to the side to bury his head against the sheets and let out a loud sob, he's about to come.

It's right there, it just needs a little more pressure.

All it takes is for Keith to keep moving his fingers with that precision and—

And suddenly, everything changes. 

He's still completely naked and has his head against the floor of the training room, the back of his neck being held by a strong hand, pressed hard against him. His hips are tilted upwards while from behind someone thrusts into him hard from the right angle, where his prostate is abused with every passing second. Another hand is firm on his waist and he feels like he could leave marks if he pressed just a little harder. 

His thighs are slippery and he feels like they used gallons of lube in this dream because, in addition to the sound Keith's pants make every time they meet the skin of his butt, there's another one from his dripping hole every time he touches him. Keith's cock digs deep into him and pulls out, only to sink into his heat again without any shame. The thrusts are constant, hard and deep.

From his place, being subdued before the other, he tries to memorize the shape of Keith's cock: surprisingly thick and, if he were guessing, it might be a little longer than his own. He feels the veins in his walls every time he squeezes tightly around him, wanting Keith to stay buried forever inside of him. And the head presses against his battered prostate, and sinks to the base. He babbles choruses of moans into the air as Keith growls behind him.

When he is close to coming, clenches his fists against the ground and sobs, he begs. He wants to touch his dripping penis, but when he tries with a trembling hand, the hand Keith had on his hip is quick to smack him so he understands with unspoken words that he's only going to cum with Keith's cock in his ass.

Another option he had was to find some good friction with the ground, but with Keith's hand darting back to his hip to pull him hard onto his cock, he doesn't think he stands a chance against that. Lance can only wait, receive from where he stands and groan, his cheek flat against the ground.

He can feel it swirling in his stomach and heading towards his own cock. This delicious feeling, he knows it's about to be released.

And it changes, again.

He is with his chest pressed on the dining room table. He's still naked (he's always been that way in his dreams, he thinks he may have discovered a new fetish of his, Thanks Keith. ) and his nipples rub against the cold table, leaving a sensation that makes him shiver in place.

He feels his long legs trembling and soon hands that spread his buttocks to leave him on display. A sigh escapes his lips as he feels a hot breath against his hole, which presses against nothing. He can feel Keith, he can feel his fangs (because it had been a surprise to all of them that Keith had turned out to be half Galra, but when his features began to appear, something inside Lance warmed ) biting against the tender flesh of his hole. His tongue circles around the skin, as if he's treading on unfamiliar ground, but then the tip of his tongue presses against his anus.

Lance shivers and weak moans escape him, rocking his hips against Keith's face, who is quick to move his hands to his hips to keep them still in place and take whatever he's willing to give him, and not take whatever Lance wants to take for himself. He tries to beg, but a hand breaks away from its grip on his hip and he can hear Keith spit. Then a calloused, spit-covered finger slides in to tease his edge.

He sobs with his hands clenched into fists as the finger brushes against his bundle of nerves. He tries to take it on his own, tries to move his hips back and fuck himself against Keith's finger for more of that delicious pleasure, but a hand slams against his skin. His right buttock is left with a tingling sensation, the skin hot where he had been spanked.

One finger soon becomes two, and two becomes three. They're playing with his prostate, he feels Keith's fingertips move in sync. His inner walls tighten, just in time to feel everything flowing into his penis, soaked with precum that falls to the floor, and comes. 

But he already knows what's going to happen.

Because everything stops.

He can now stare into the cabin of the Red Lion. Some fangs, Keith's (resonates somewhere in his mind), are nibbling on his neck with great vigor. Feel the possessiveness that consumes the other while leaving his marks all over their skin. Then his thin lips, which leave kisses from the tip of his ear to his collarbones, where he begins to bite and suck again. When those fangs return to their original spot on his neck, Lance tilts his head to the side to give him more room.

That's one thing, and what happens at the bottom is something else: Keith's hands cling, like a child with his favorite toy, to his ass. The leather of his fingerless gloves rubs and burns his skin every second and he loves it, his firm hands lifting Lance's weight and sinking it back down onto his cock to the base. Lance himself finds the strength in his hips to bounce and ride carelessly, his hands gripping Keith's shoulders and leaving crescents of his nails on the bare skin.

The fact that they are fucking in a ‘public’ place (although not completely), where anyone can enter the Lion's cabin and see them commit such a sinful act like this on one of the five lions that make up the legendary defender of the universe, It makes a tingling sensation flutter in the lower part of your stomach. No, no—the simple fact of fucking Keith excites him in a way he can't put into words.

Then Keith enters him again, strong thrusts of his thick cock all being directed to crush against his prostate. Lance's tears gather in the corners of his eyes from the pleasure and he feels like he's going to explode. He wants to masturbate, give himself some other kind of pleasure because these four scenes he dreamed of have only fucked his ass to torment him. 

He already knows what is next, the same actions are repeated again but as different scenes. He tries to concentrate on anything else, he tries to wake up because he thinks that this way things will be resolved faster. And even though it's most likely, the erection that follows is going to be a total embarrassment and all these dreams are going to hit his pride like never before, but who cares (he cares).

However, nothing works. 

Keith keeps slamming his cock, his amazing, delicious cock, against his hole. It made his head spin. The pushing was erratic. Lance rolled his hips on the older man's lap, impatient to feel, to touch, to come. The member disappeared between his buttocks as quickly as it came out of them. Lance was warm, he felt his own cock against his abs dripping with precum and soaking him.

At some point, Keith had stopped marking his neck and was now staring at him. His eyes filled with darkness and hunger caused a sharp sigh to leave his lips. Keith was making several grunts now, but it was Lance who couldn't suppress the loud gasps and moans, at this point he didn't even care.

The position was torture, of all the previous scenes, this turned out to be the one that turned him on the most, he was crazy with pleasure. His climax was so close that if he stretched out a hand, it was likely he could reach it. It hurt, but with a delicious sensation that left him longing for so much more.

He was about to explode. 

His head was about to explode. He couldn't take it anymore.

“Shit,” Keith growled beneath him, it was the first thing that had come out of his mouth during the entire dream. With the word, the thrusts stopped and the older seemed to sink even deeper into his ass, his hands gripping his ass tightly to not let it escape. 

Deep inside him, he could feel Keith’s cock twitching and stirring. Then he let out a hoarse moan as he sank his teeth into Lance’s shoulder and it happened like this: Lance clenched around him tightly as Keith shot loads of his hot release into his abused, wet, tight channel. The cock jerked inside him, the older pushing impossibly deeper until he felt his balls against his ass. Keith’s hips bucked slowly, fucking his cum into the tight hole.

Lance wanted to touch himself, desperate to follow the other to the edge.

And then, he woke up.

His hands clutched the blankets as he stood up abruptly, breathing hard and his heart pounding in his chest, ready to run. When he looked down, the least unexpected thing to see was the obvious tent that was raised in his pants, his erection hidden beneath them. 

He almost tripped when his foot got tangled in a blanket, rushing on his way to get to the bathroom as fast as his feet would allow him.

When he entered, he plopped down on the toilet. He hid his face in his palms and let out a resigned sigh. He slid his pants down, letting them fall to the floor of his bathroom as he patted his erection through his boxers, where he could see a dark stain from the bed frame and the wet dream.

He pulled his shirt up over his chest to start playing with one of his nipples, pinching it and surrounding the areola with the tips of his fingers, as if he were making fun of himself. One hand easily released his member, beginning to massage from the bottom up, dipping his thumb into the slit and letting his head fall back. A sigh of relief escaped his lips, increasing the pace as his hips moved back and forth.

When he felt that all this action was not enough, he kicked off his boxers and tossed his t-shirt to the side along with his pants. He approached the shower, turning on the tap with trembling hands and without waiting another second he forced his body into the cold water.

The cold water on his warm skin caused a slight shiver that didn't last long when he found the lube in the same place he had left it the other night. He moved to the side so that the water wouldn't hit him. will splash in his hand and in this way cover two of his fingers with a little of the slippery liquid, enough so that it did not hurt but to make him feel a faint burning when it opened. 

The water continued to flow in the opposite corner where he was. He began to massage the ring of muscles, proceeding quickly to sink the first finger in up to the knuckle and letting out a gasp. He stayed like that for a good few minutes, his hand coming up to meet his penis again in a gentle, slow swing. Soon, he was ready to take the second and did so, joining harshly with the first. His fingers were long and thin, but no matter how hard he tried and no matter how much he tried to go deeper, he could only rub that point that made him go crazy. 

He doesn't know when it happened, but he may have moved a little to lean against the wall and now his body was under the water again. His hair stuck to his forehead, closing his eyes as he let out more moans, unable to hold back his voice much longer.

It took forever, but the feeling that had been plaguing him in his dreams was slowly building in the lower part of his stomach. In this way, his fingers moved constantly rubbing his prostate and in this way he came with a high-pitched moan that he totally regretted, but with the sensation of release and his vision clouded by the relief of the post-climax, the regret did not last. a lot.

From there, all that followed was extreme embarrassment as he cleaned himself up, this time taking a proper shower. The soap washed all parts of his body, rubbing vigorously as if in this way it could remove everything that had happened because of those dreams.

He comes out of the bathroom with a towel wrapped around his waist and a smaller one in his hair. He blushes every time the memory of his dream comes to his mind.

He scratches his neck, where the sting of the insignificant bug sends tingles all over his body. When he changes his clothes and leaves his room towards the dining room, he finds everyone sitting around the table while discussing something that he still cannot hear. He approaches with a calm smile and the conversation turns out to be about the bug from the day before.

“Lance!” Hunk greets from his place and the Cuban takes a seat on the right side of his friend. On his other side is Keith, who silently eats the space slime.

“What were you talking about?” he asks, thanking with a nod and a smile when Coran brings him a plate of food. 

“About the bug,” Pidge replies, analyzing her tablet and adjusting her glasses on the bridge of her nose. “I almost couldn't sleep and I woke up to look for Coran and continue analyzing this little bug.” she turns her tablet so Lance could see it this way “According to these results, the bite of this bug could contain slight toxins, it depends mostly on the container that the victim is. However, once the bite is injected into your system, it reveals that you’ll have dreams of whatever you were craving at the time the bug bit you,” she explains. 

“It’s a known bug,” Coran explains from his spot as he circles the table and rubs his mustache in concentration. “It used to be kind of a creepy legend during my time, everyone was afraid of it.”

“Afraid of it?” laughs Lance “Why? They're just stupid dreams.”

“Oh, son,” Coran stands behind the paladin as a firm hand holds his shoulder. “They are not just dreams. People used to fear because the bite of this bug leads to death.”

At this statement, everyone shook, “Death?!”

"That's how it is. People are different, and so are their desires. They tend to long for things that they can grow attached to, things that they feel are necessary, things that they covet with all their soul, and often, things that seem unattainable, those that only live in their dreams or in the impossible promises of life. No one could know what they were most longing for at the time of the bite, only hours later dreams could reveal what it had been,” he explains.

The Paladins and the Princess are silent as they all listen carefully to Coran. 

“If what they wanted most is not delivered to them within a week, with several symptoms involved which, as number five explained, can vary depending on the recipient of the bite, it will culminate in a painful death,” he concludes.

Allura brings her two palms together to draw attention to herself as she says “Then we need to know their dreams to help them.”

“That's right, Princess.”

“So? What are you waiting for?” she rushes them “No one is going to die under my command from a bug, so come on, tell us upon your deepest desires, my Paladins.”

It's Hunk who first raises his hand and lets out a sigh. “I dreamed about food,” he confesses. As everyone looks at him, he decides to change the course of his words and explains more emphatically what he means: “Not just any food—! It's—” he gets embarrassed “My mom used to make food for me when I was still at home, right now I miss her so much that I just wish I could go back to eating Earth food instead of this space slime. “No offense.”

“Good!” Allura says “Then we need Earth food, we could stop by the Space Mall again and see if we can find something to prepare it with or something that at least resembles food” she explains “Only if it's okay for you” she looks at Hunk.

Hunk immediately replies “Yes—! Yes, totally.”

“Well, then we could say that one is already covered. Now, you can continue.”

Pidge was next “I dreamed about my family.”

Everyone froze in their places, keeping total silence as the youngest of the group continued.

“I miss them. It feels so far away from here in space, it just—I dreamed that I gave them a big hug and we all went back to the way we were before.”

“Pidge that—”

“I know, I know” she raises his hands “It's impossible.”

"No! Nothing is impossible, we will see how we can solve that, for now we must not lose hope. No one is going to die, that's a promise,” says Allura. “Now: Lance, you're the last one. You were strangely quiet today, could you please us with your deepest desire” she smiles.

Lance looks at the plate of space slime he'd barely touched. The memory of his dream comes along with a blush that spreads to the tips of his ears.

He lays out all his options on the table, like a game of cards: he simply couldn't open his mouth and truly tell them his greatest desire, revealing the brutal fucking Keith had given him in the four scenes that played out in his dream like a porn movie. A big NO raised a corner of his head at the idea. Even if I confessed it, his eyes barely drifted to Keith's hands that were resting on the table , he knew it would end in real disgrace.

Keith was going to laugh in his face—No, no no, wait. Keith just didn't have the heart to make fun of him for the silly crush he had. He knew it more than anyone, no more than Shiro as his brother, but he was the one who liked the other for several reasons and one of them was the big heart that the half-Galra had, although no one seemed to notice it that easily. The most likely thing to do was to feel sorry for him with great pity and a weight on his shoulders that he had to bear. Even if he didn't do it for himself, others would force him to make a decision for their companion's life and he would end up accepting anyway.

As much as his heart ached and he felt a tightness in his chest that he couldn't get rid of, it was obvious that he wasn't going to force Keith to have feelings for him. Shit! He wasn't even going to force him to do anything against his will, if the other couldn't even stand his presence he would simply get out of the way and let him pass.

It was in this way that he ruled out the option. He still had another move: lie. It had its pros and cons, but first the pros were in your eyes. they surpassed with a great increase in the cons, being that the only disadvantage he found was dying. Then he decided, but now he had to play his cards right, it had to be something that others could believe. It had to be something that the others couldn't doubt for a second and say “it was obvious.”

But what could it be?

A light bulb went off instantly when the Princess's voice rang in his ear to ask, “Lance? Are you okay?”

“I'm sorry,” he apologized, with a graceful smile. “My dream, yes. I got lost in my thoughts.”

“It's not like you can miss that much,” Pidge joked across the table.

“How funny. Well, I dreamed of going on a date with the Princess,” he confesses, plopping down in his spot with great relief when the expectant gazes that had been hovering over him turn into disinterested ones. The comments he had been waiting for on his 'greatest wish' soon arrived after that.

“Typical” says the Italian.

“Wow”.

Keith lets out a scathing smile. “Keep dreaming, Lance.”

“Well, this is going to have to happen, otherwise: he will die. And according to the Princess's promise, no one will die from this bug,” explains Coran. “So, let's get to work, Paladins! There are lives to save!”

“Coran? By the way, those symptoms you were talking about?” Hunk asks “Are they that bad?” Or—or what are they? You didn’t even make it clear in your explanation.”

“Oh,” he says, “Yes, that. Well, the symptoms vary over time: the first day it's just an itchy body, then the second day with what can be irritability or extreme sensitivity. Continuing towards the third day, a pressure in the chest that will make it difficult to breathe, this is the last symptom, but it lasts for the rest of the week. This is what ends up killing them, as the days go by, the pressure will intensify until it reaches their lungs and makes them stop.” Lance's jaw drops a little at the explanation, but he doesn't let it show. “However, there are also other symptoms that can vary depending on the person but do not last all day like the others: the night of the third day can begin with intensified nightmares, numbness of the body, loss of focus that makes even the simplest task difficult or obsessiveness to fulfill your I wish” he ends.

When Coran finishes giving his long explanation, everyone rushes to comply as quickly as possible.

They know that they have to return to the Space Mall to find something to prepare the Earth food, but it will most likely take them a full day on the journey since they don’t have the necessary components that the Castle is missing. It was for that reason that they had gone to collect materials, but now it doesn't matter anymore, they have failed and their lives are at stake.

Shiro explains that there is no way to concentrate on the collection mission since the lives of three Paladins are at stake, and it’s most likely that they will take longer searching for the component all over the planet than piloting the castle manually to Space Mall. So in this way, he decides as team leader that they can search for what they need another day with their helmets on (he emphasizes this part while his gaze remains fixed on where Lance is looking at a point on the wall that now seems interesting). 

Now they must hurry, but the only thing they can do for the moment is eat and try to save their strength, so that if the symptoms decide to intensify from one moment to the next, they will be notified at the moment. Coran sets the coordinates of the indicated place while Allura observes.

When everyone finishes their space food with a tense silence in between, each one goes their own way: Keith heads to the training room to take another session and clear his head, Shiro goes to take his position next to Allura to kill time and discuss their combat plans. Pidge and Hunk decide that they are going to play a video game to calm all this down, to which they invite him but he decides that he needs time to think about this whole thing and the fact that he has six days left if his problem is not solved (he knows well: it's not going to be solved and he's going to end up having a dramatic death. It was all an excuse to accept the fact that he only has six days left to enjoy), and the other two accept and walk away towards the lowest room.

Lance chooses the pool because, in addition to being calmed by the sensation of having his legs submerged in the water, it’s one of the few places that comes to mind where he didn't dream of Keith brutally fucking him in every possible position. So when he arrives, he lies down near the pool, but not before rolling up his pants to his knees, taking off his jacket to leave it away where it won't get wet, and rolling up his long shirt.

His head voluntarily falls against the ground while his feet gently allow themselves to be lowered into the water. It's refreshing, the sensation calms him and makes him forget about many things, unimportant things that were echoing in the back of his mind. Now nothing matters, he closes his eyes and rests where he is lying with his back against the floor. Now he can do nothing but enjoy and forget.

But then it happens. At the same time he enjoys and forgets, as careless as he turns out to be, among what is lost in a blurry cloud of thoughts are his dreams. Those dreams that constantly feed him and leave him yearning to take more of his own, those dreams that leave him hungry, dreams that reflect his desires.

This time, the setting takes place in the same place: the pool. He wakes up from where was lying in his place with his feet immersed in the cool water, his eyes looking at the ceiling of the huge place, all as if it were realistic. Too realistic for his own good. 

At the entrance to the pool he catches a glimpse of Keith, entering with determined steps and only his swimming shorts along with a towel around his neck, consistent with how he had been when he and Keith had gotten stuck in the elevator on the way to the pool. He walks towards him with a wicked smile on his face and, when he's close enough, kneels down where his head is leaning against the ground. He can see how his abs flex delightfully and his eyes have a hunger that could be compared to his own.

Lance tries to get up from where he is, his hands seeking support on the cold, smooth floor. However, before he can even move, Keith leans in like a predator stalking its prey. His hands move with precision, closing around Lance's neck with a force that forces him to the ground. Lance tries to struggle, but the pressure on his throat stops him, his breathing becomes labored. Keith's eyes, intense and filled with a mix of defiance and control, lock onto his, freezing it in his place.

Keith's smile widens, almost mocking, as he watches the effect of his dominance. It's like he's enjoying the moment, the fact that he has Lance completely at his mercy. His silence is chilling and makes him squirm under his grip. Lance's hands instinctively rise to Keith's, trying to free himself, but the difference in power is overwhelming. The feeling of vulnerability invades him. Keith tilts his head, studying it carefully, as if he wanted to record every expression on Lance's face in his memory. It's a moment that feels eternal, a game of strength and will in which both know who has the advantage.

Then Lance's breath catches when one of Keith's hands breaks free from his grip to reach for the elastic of his shorts and slide them down a few inches, letting his penis bounce against his abs, firm and marked by tension of the moment. Without any word of warning, Keith looks at him intently, his breathing heavy as if he's holding back something deeper.

Lance can't help but notice every little detail: the way Keith's muscles seem tense as he moves, the warmth emanating from his skin and the charged energy that floats between them. His own breathing is erratic, a mixture of nerves and expectation, while his hands, unsure, don’t know whether to stay in place or venture to touch what is just above him.

Without any warning other than the movement itself, Keith wraps his cock in a tight grip with his right hand and pries Lance's mouth open with the thumb of his other hand, burying his cock in the wet heat in a matter of seconds. Lance's surprised gasp is immediately muffled, his lips stretching around the length encroaching on him.

The firmness with which Keith takes control is overwhelming, as if everything had been planned before, as if he knew exactly how he wanted this to happen. The feeling of power over Lance draws a low growl from him that vibrates in his throat, his fingers tangling in Lance's damp hair to hold him in place.

Lance barely has time to adjust; The beat begins with an unexpected intensity, Keith's every movement pushing the pressure beyond what his mind can process. His hands clench into tight fists against the floor, seeking some balance as he tries to breathe between the thrusts that steal his air. The saliva begins to accumulate and escape from the corners of his lips, mixing with the sweat that slides down his jaw.

The weight and warmth are overwhelming, and though Lance can't help but gasp for air every time Keith pulls back slightly, something in him surrenders to the moment. Keith's harsh grunts are the only thing filling the silence, each one deeper and more satisfied than the last, as his hips sink with a precision that makes Lance shiver from the inside.

He had always thought of it this way, Keith being brutal with his hard thrusts fucking against his mouth, it had always been this way in the most twisted part of his mind. Thus he has maintained his belief that Keith, as impulsive as he turns out to be during missions, would take without a moment's hesitation whatever he wanted from Lance, giving him more than what was necessary.

His arms move agitatedly as his breath catches every time Keith's balls slide across his face and he buries himself in their deep heat all the way to the base, to the back of his throat as it closes around the head of his cock. He feels wet, dirty, used, but it all comes together in a delicious sensation that gets him through the situation. He takes him to a place to torture him, but his eyes close as a growing heat goes towards his own penis hidden in his pants.

The position is awkward, as it turns out that instead of Keith being on his chest fucking his mouth the right way (the way it should have been from the beginning), he decides to torture his body in strange ways and mold it to the way that seems most appropriate to him, having positioned himself behind him, holding Lance's head to take his mouth with sudden thrusts.

In this dream Keith doesn’t seek for Lance's pleasure, leaving him forgotten to the side to find how to better satisfy himself. At the cost of this, Lance's pants have started to tighten for minutes now where his penis is rock hard hidden beneath them. 

His legs kick in the water. Keith sinks deep with grunts escaping him and a scowl adorning his face with intense concentration. His fists hitting the ground, unable to do anything but take and accept what the other is giving him, choking even more as he tries to ask for a moment to breathe.

And then —

Next are shakes. He stands up abruptly, leaning forward as he bends his body to try to expel the water that has accumulated in his lungs and instead tries to swallow some oxygen so he can breathe. At times, it’s difficult for him, but he manages to vaguely get used to the sensation. His eyes are teary as he surveys his surroundings.

He's still in the pool, as planned, but now he has company: Shiro is kneeling at his side with a hand, which he hadn't noticed until now, rubbing his back in an attempt to calm him down. He’s soaked from head to toe, the clothes, which he has been wearing since that day they found the Blue Lion, stick to his body because of the water. Drops of water fall from his hair to end up on the floor. Then, Lance decides to be the first to break the ice:

“That — ?” his voice falters, coughing for a few seconds and patting his chest to find it “What happened? Why are you here? And — ?” He looks at it once. “And why are you wet?”

“Lance,” he begins, his voice stern, “You were drowning. You seemed unconscious, I had to jump into the pool to drag you to the side” he explains “What happened?”

Oh. That explains it.  “Oh,” he says in return, “I may have been dreaming. I probably made some sudden movement at some point and fell,” he laughs embarrassedly, but not at the vague excuse he just gave his team leader. No.

The fact that he's been dreaming about Keith fucking his mouth hard, thrust after thrust, grunting above his and holding his head in place for his own pleasure is one thing. That IS something. However, that he is now facing Shiro, a figure Keith clings to as his brother, a close family member to seek comfort in, is a completely different thing. He can't just go and tell Shiro that he had a wet dream in a public place, especially not if that dream involves his little brother. A big NO .

Shiro doesn't seem happy with his answer, but lets it pass for the moment. He stands elegantly in front of him and, with a firm but kind gesture, extends a hand to him. Lance takes it without hesitation, although his aching limbs protest as he forces himself to get up from the ground.

“Go change, Lance,” Shiro orders him with a tone that brooks no argument. “But first, take a hot shower, okay? We don't want anything to happen to you while that sting continues to rage.”

Lance nods quickly, all too eager to escape the older man's questioning gaze. He bends down to pick up his jacket from the floor and, without saying anything else, turns around and almost runs out of the place.

As he walks to the showers, his thoughts wander. The hallway is silent, only the echo of his footsteps echoes around him. The lingering pain in your body begins to dissipate as he anticipates the relief of the hot water falling on your skin. His muscles feel tense where he had been lying on the floor.

He gets to the showers, takes off his clothes with somewhat clumsy movements and gets under the stream of hot water. The contact of water with his skin is an immediate relief; The heat seems to melt the fatigue accumulated in his muscles. Lance rests his forehead against the tile wall, letting the water make more than his sweat and dirt. For a moment, just a moment, he feels at peace.

But that tranquility lasts little. As he finishes and wraps himself in a towel, the sound of a door opening makes him turn. His eyes meet Keith, who walks in with his hair damp with sweat and his tight shirt clinging to his chest, outlining every muscle. Lance feels his throat go dry and, at the same time, his imagination begins to fly in directions it shouldn't.

It’s a moment too long. Keith's gaze falls on him, intense, and the atmosphere seems to become heavier, almost stuffy. Lance feels the irrational urge to stay there, to provoke something he knows could consume him completely, but fear—or perhaps pride—makes him react.

Heart racing and mind dazed, he quickly turns and leaves the room, ignoring the feeling of Keith watching him as he leaves. He walks down the hall, feeling that the air is thick, his thoughts tangled in what could have happened, in what he wanted to happen.

When he gets to his room, he dresses quickly, trying to clear his mind. But even as he buttons his shirt, the image of Keith, his scent, and the intensity of his gaze remain chasing him like a shadow impossible to ignore.

His thoughts wander with all his fantasies in mind and his body, his penis itself, goes into action. He’s terribly horny, one hand is about to go down to his pants to pat his growing erection when an alarm echoes even through the darkest corners of the Castle. 

Allura’s voice shouts through the speakers “Paladins, we are under attack! We need the Lions now!” and the transmission cuts off.

Lance runs down the halls, his footsteps echoing loudly as his heart pounds with anticipation. When he reaches the hangar, Blue roars from its platform, the sound filling the space like thunder. His Lion seems to immediately pick up on his Paladin's altered state, but Lance responds with gentle claps on the control panel, accompanied by his typical loving voice.

“Calm down, my good girl! We’re already here. Let's teach those idiots a lesson.”

Blue seems to relax a little, but the connection between the two makes it clear to Lance that his Lion is watching him carefully, as if trying to figure out what has him so distracted. The engines roar as Blue takes off from the hangar and joins the rest of the Lions. Over the comm, Pidge's voice sounds irritated.

“It's about time, Lance! I thought the 'best sharpshooter in galaxy' couldn't read a watch.”

Lance ignores the taunt and adjusts his controls. On the horizon, a fleet of Galra ships unfolds like a purple storm, their lights flashing in formation. Shiro gives the orders from the front line, and the Paladins launch into combat with coordinated precision.

Space is filled with explosions, flashes of light that illuminate moving ships. Lance maneuvers Blue with agility, dodging enemy fire while his cannons fire with surgical precision. Every shot that hits a Galra ship draws a triumphant scream from his lips.

Pidge and Hunk fight near him, exchanging pleasantries as they destroy enemy fighters. Keith, on the other hand, is in front, his Red Lion advancing like an arrow towards the center of the enemy fleet. Lance tries not to look at it, but a small screen in his cockpit shows the feed from the Lions' internal cameras. And there's Keith, frowning, messy, wet hair falling over his forehead as he pilots intensely.

“Concentration, Lance, concentration…” he murmurs to himself, but his gaze wanders back to the screen. ‘Why does he have to look so good even when we're in the middle of a fight?' he thinks in frustration.

It’s at that moment when an enemy shot surprises him. Lance reacts late and, trying to return the attack, his shot misses completely, passing him by and exploding into the void.

“What was that?!” Pidge’s voice bursts into his communicator, clearly amused. “Weren’t you the best sharpshooter in galaxy? That was worse than Hunk’s aim in practice last week!”

“Hey!” Hunk protests from his position, but Lance barely listens.

His face burns with shame, and he rushes to regain control. Blue roars as if to scold him, and Lance shakes his head, trying to concentrate.

“Shut up, Pidge! It was a mistake… Just one! Now watch me and learn.”

With renewed determination, Lance adjusts his controls and fires a perfect burst that destroys three enemy fighters in a single move.

“That is! Who's the best sharpshooter now, huh?”

The battle continues with intensity, but the Paladins manage to corner the Galra ships. With a final concerted effort, they destroy the flagship, forcing the rest of the fleet to retreat.

“Good job, team,” Shiro says over the comm, his voice thick with approval.

They return to the Castle in formation, each exhausted but satisfied. However, as they land in the hangar, Lance can't help but feel a mix of relief and embarrassment. His mistake continues to haunt his mind, like a thorn that he cannot remove. Blue lands softly, but the connection between them gives him a feeling of slight reproach.

The space is filled with the noise of the engines turning off and the Lions' floodgates opening. Lance takes a deep breath before dismounting, but as he steps onto the ground, he feels everyone's gaze pierce him like needles. It’s clear that his mistake didn’t go unnoticed.

Pidge wastes no time in approaching, with a smirk that Lance knows all too well.

“So what happened, Lance? Did you get distracted by your own reflection or what?”

“Ha ha…” Lance rolls his eyes, his voice thick with sarcasm. “Very funny, Pidge.”

Shiro simply watches him, his gaze serious but understanding, as if he was about to say something motivating to make him not feel so bad. But before he can do so, Keith approaches, walking with that natural arrogance that makes Lance's blood boil. He crosses his arms and looks at him with a raised eyebrow.

“What was that out there, Lance?” he says with an accusatory tone, his voice dripping with smugness.

Lance frowns and, without thinking much, whispers an excuse while scratching the back of his neck.

“I was… distracted, okay? I dreamed something strange and… nothing, it crossed my mind”.

Keith lets out a short laugh, the kind of laugh that Lance wants to erase from his face with words... or maybe something else, but he doesn't think too much about it.

“How desperate are you for your date with Allura?” Keith provokes, with a smile that is as irritating as it is attractive.

“Keith,” Shiro warned from behind.

Lance freezes for a moment, the words stabbing into his chest like an arrow. He wants to scream in his face, ‘It's not Allura, you idiot, it's you and your stupid sex appeal that won't leave me alone!’ , but he doesn't have the strength to start an argument now. He’s tired, too physically and mentally exhausted to shout what he really thinks.

“Yeah, sure, Keith. Whatever you say…” he responds in a tired voice, looking down at the ground.

Before anyone can say anything else, Lance picks up his jacket and turns, walking away from the group. Feels the looks of Pidge and Hunk following him, confused but too silent, as if they knew there was something else he wasn't saying. He can even feel Keith's gaze boring into his back, as if trying to figure him out, but Lance doesn't stop.

He walks through the halls of the castle with hurried steps, his thoughts spinning in circles. ‘Wake up, Lance! You can't go on like this. It's just Keith. He's your companion, your rival. And you… you can't…’ But words are of no use to him.

When he finally reaches his room, he falls back onto the bed with a long, frustrated sigh. He covers his face with one arm, trying to ignore how his chest still feels strange every time he thinks about that damn smirk.

“Stupid Keith…” he mutters under his breath, although in his mind, the phrase sounds more like a self-reproach.

Lance goes to sleep and what follows seems like a nightmare.

The next morning, Lance wakes up with a feeling that is even worse than the itch from the day before. The discomfort does not come from your body, but from your mind. He’s frustrated, distraught, and feels like he's trapped in a nightmare that never ends. It's the second day of the bite symptoms, and the damn dream continues tormenting him.

At first, the dreams seemed strange but somewhat exciting. There was something twisted and perverse about Keith somehow being involved. The idea of ​​Keith himself, who was always so distant, having these intimate moments with him both disconcerted and attracted him. But now, in the sobriety of awakening, Lance realizes what those dreams truly mean. He goes over it over and over in his mind: Keith never says anything. He had not opened his mouth at any time to murmur anything, he means , he only cursed out loud when he came, but it was just that: a fleeting moment that was lost among the many others.

That thought consumes him. You feel like everything you really long for is shrouded in emptiness. If only he could believe that those moments meant something more to Keith, maybe he wouldn't feel so empty. But what really hurts him is that, deep down, he knows that those dreams are just a fantasy. Something even Keith doesn't seem to want.

He feels like crying. Even his own dreams reflect how Keith would leave him the instant he finished whatever they had during their moment of bonding. His deepest dreams, the wish he longs for most… if only that means—

Lance gets up with a heavy sigh and heads to the bathroom, taking tired steps. He feels disgusted with himself. Sadness, frustration, and desire mix in his chest, and he doesn't know how to deal with it all. He steps into the shower, letting the hot water wash over him, but gets no relief. Instead of feeling better, he feels dirtier, as if water couldn't cleanse the bitterness that invades his being. The soap suds slowly slide over his body, but it doesn't eliminate what he feels. Every touch, every movement seems to only make things worse. He cries, sobbing until his eyes have no more tears. It’s a silent cry, one of those that comes out without permission, without consolation.

He feels disgusted.

When he gets out of the shower, silence is the only thing that accompanies him. He dresses quickly and heads to the dining room where the others are already eating. Everyone is too busy with their own business, but Lance knows something is wrong. He doesn't need to see the looks to know that they notice him. He sits next to Hunk, who offers him a plate of space food he had saved for him. Lance takes a spoonful, but he can't stand it. The food, although it’s what he needs, disgusts him so deeply that he feels as if he were going to vomit.

He tries to hide his discomfort, but he can't. Tears begin to fall unwillingly, and the horror of feeling vulnerable in front of his friends consumes him. He tries to cover his face, but can't hide the obvious. The cutlery stops. Everyone turns to him, and Lance feels the weight of their gazes on him, heavy and laden with concern. Hunk's hand, firm and comforting, rests gently on your back, rubbing in circles. It's a warm pressure, giving him some comfort in the midst of his internal storm, but it's not enough to stop the pain he feels.

“What's wrong?” Shiro asks in a confused tone, noticing the change in atmosphere.

Coran, being more familiar with the effects of the sting, is quick to explain. “These are the symptoms of the bite. It must be extreme sensitivity” his voice is calm, but there is a touch of worry.

“Paladins—!” Allura enters the dining room at that moment, her presence always radiant, but as she sees the scene unfolding before her eyes, her face hardens, surprised and worried. “What is wrong?” she asks, a mix of bewilderment and alarm in her voice.

Pidge, who had been watching silently, responds briefly. “The symptoms” says no more, but her tone reveals her understanding of the situation.

Allura nods, and as she regains her composure, she clears her voice before continuing.

“We have reached our destination. The Space Mall is a few planets beyond the Castle, but we can get there without problems with a smaller ship." Her voice is firm, but there is a softness in her gaze when she looks at Lance, as if she wanted to say something else, but decides not to. 

Lance feels a wave of mixed emotions. Part of him wants to escape, wants to stay there, hiding in his room, but another part knows that the mission is important and that he needs to stay strong.

Allura gives the necessary instructions for the team to prepare. As everyone gets up, Hunk approaches him with a smile, trying to lighten the mood, but Lance can barely pay attention. His thoughts are clouded, and he just nods, feeling completely lost.

When they board the ship, the trip to the Space Mall passes in tense silence. Lance sits next to Shiro in the front, who pilots the ship with precision, while Allura (who had to go because of the date, with permission from Coran, since neither of them wanted Lance to die even though his dream was a lie that they didn't know about) and Pidge talk in the back. Hunk, with his characteristic enthusiasm, goes through a list of things he needs to buy. Lance can't concentrate on anything. Everything he hears and sees sounds distant to him, as if he was trapped in a bubble.

Finally, they arrive at the Space Mall, and everyone disperses to carry out their tasks. However, Lance and Allura stay together, walking hand in hand through the Space Mall as if they were a real couple. She tries to make conversation, but Lance can't keep up. Her words flow, but he just nods in response, unable to articulate anything coherent.

Allura, noticing his silence, doesn't press him, but her gaze shows subtle concern. They decide to stop at a peculiar restaurant, and although Lance doesn't feel like eating, he agrees to go because he knows it's part of the mission. They order the strangest thing on the menu, something completely foreign to Lance, but somehow it gives him something to focus on, even if he doesn't enjoy it.

They both sit in silence, and while Allura makes small talk, Lance is lost in thought, unable to stop the tension that consumes him from making him feel more alone than ever. Allura eats happy her  ‘whatever she's eating’ as Lance looks at the plate with sad eyes. His thoughts wander to Keith and no matter how much he tries to direct them elsewhere, they keep coming back to him, taking away the hunger that had arisen at the time perceiving the exquisite smell of his dish.

He can only grab his somewhat awkward fork and stir the food with disinterest.

Minutes passed, until the constant murmuring had now intensified. Allura's voice had raised its pitch to get his attention. His eyes darted to the girl, who had even taken her time getting ready for the date, when she asked, “Are you enjoying the date?”

He took a few seconds to respond, nodding slowly as he returned his eyes down to where his hand was still in constant motion stirring the food.

He feels movement in front of him, causing him to look up again. Allura leans forward at the table where they were both sitting, her hand reaching out to reach the Cuban's and stop the movement. “Lance” says in a stern voice. “Tell me the truth,” she asks, with a tone that explains how she isn’t going to accept another excuse on his part or a silly lie to cover up the impending truth.

The atmosphere around him seems to fade, the sounds become distant. On his face, a tense calm remains, although his eyes betray any attempt to hide what is happening inside. First, it is a small, almost imperceptible pressure in the corner of your eyes. There is not a sob, there is not a sigh that breaks the air; everything remains in an eerie stillness.

But then, slowly, the tears begin to build up, sliding from Lance’s eyes with a softness that seems to reflect the sadness he can't put into words. Each blink is heavier than the last, as if his eyelids were searching for strength that was no longer there. The tears don’t fall immediately, but stay there, waiting, building an invisible wall behind the gaze.

Little by little, the moisture expands, covering his eyes in a crystalline layer. The pain is clear, although it remains hidden in the silence of his face. His breathing remains calm, almost contained, but his eyes fill more, becoming more and more moist until, finally, a tear slides down his cheek, breaking the calm, but without a sound to accompany it. The face remains serene, but the eyes speak a language that nothing can silence.

He tries to cover his face when he feels the first one fall on the table, on the napkin that was placed next to the plate that contained his steaming food, wetting the piece of paper with a crystalline drop full of pain, but when he tries to move his hands he remembers that one is caught in Allura's strong grip. The Altean's thumb rubs against the muscle in his wrist reassuringly, which might have helped if Lance wasn't so agitated with the task of trying to hide. 

His left hand, which was not restrained by any alien grip, flies towards his eyes with an unknown fury. He wipes away the tears that slide down his cheeks like a slide, takes a long breath and decides to let it out because he knows that it is now or never: “It was a lie,” he confesses, his voice loaded with various feelings that cause him to sink into his heart. seat “From the beginning everything was a lie, sorry” he sobs, his face wrinkles leaving the serene expression behind as he decides to reveal what was hidden “This was never what I wanted—probably during the first weeks in the Castle, but now I— I realized a lot of things” he rambles “This is not my true desire, Allura, I'm sorry. I lied to them, to you, to the entire team. It’s okay if you’re mad at me, I understand, I—”

“Oh, Lance,” she smiles quietly. He feels like his mother is sitting in front of him somehow: comforting him when his first love dared to break his sad teenage heart, unprepared for the rejection of a young love affair “I'm not angry, quite the opposite in fact. I care, Lance, about you more than anyone. Voltron is a big family and we must all learn to take care of each other. I consider you the little brother I never had, I love you, but not in the way a couple would love each other." He already knew it, it had become clear to him when Allura always kept her gaze fixed on the silhouettes of other alien women, but he could only continue with his foolish game “I meant it, when I promised that no one would die under my command because of this. Tell me, Lance, how can I help you so that one of the fundamental pillars of Voltron—so that one of my friends, my brother, does not die.”

“No— I. Princess” his eyes connect to speak words that he cannot keep silent, words that he would never dare to say out loud “I am going to die in five days—”

“—No, Lance—”

“Allura” interrupts. The Princess falls silent instantly, the thumb that had been rubbing against Lance's wrist stops, but their skin never stops touching. “I'm going to die. I decided this myself. I can't— I just can't—" he can't tell Keith what he feels, he can't dare to let the other see how his eyes turn into hearts every time he looks in his direction, let a loving sigh escape around him. , letting the slightest action between them become something intimate that Keith would immediately pull away from. He teased him several times and Keith is sick of him.

He couldn’t stand to see how his face would wrinkle of disgust as soon as the deepest feelings, which he hides his heart in a box with a lock, come to light in some way or another. It was months, months and even much before, since he was longing and when he was finally able to see Keith after he had been expelled from Garrison, the other couldn't even remember his own name without Lance having to explain part of the history they had together long ago.

So much longing that it is impossible to hide, he fears that one day it will escape him and that will be the end. Simply— “I'm afraid.”

Allura, not feeling like she's going to get anything else out of him besides tears if they keep talking about this topic, decides to change the conversation and ask him if he's going to eat his plate, which causes Lance to remain confused for a few seconds before laughing. He brings the plate to the girl, who devours it with great enthusiasm but savors it in her mouth with a sigh of relief, seeming to enjoy it.

When they finish eating, they decide to walk towards their meeting point to meet the other three Paladins. Meters away, everyone seems happy as they carry several bags of what appears to be Earth food. Allura approaches them with hurried steps while asking them if everything went well, although the answer seems more than obvious. Shiro smiles, responding that everything had gone perfectly and, in return, asks them the same thing.

Allura shrugs immediately and the others look at Lance for an answer with coherent words, but he doesn't respond either. Instead, he decides to ignore the conversation in favor of pointing out that it’s already late and they should leave to reach the Castle without any inconvenience. He knows this is a lie or another lame excuse, since he doesn't even know what time it is.

On the ship, everyone takes their places and this time, Lance sits next to Allura, resting his head on her shoulder to rest, but careful not to fall asleep since he knows what can happen and how that’s going to end. Allura's arm goes around his shoulders, getting impossibly closer to the Cuban, trying to find solace for the Paladin's constant thoughts. 'Everything is going to be fine' is what is not said, but it’s implied. Lance feels like Allura already knows what he wants, girls are intuitive, and even if she isn't, she has the Castle watched by her mices wandering around and gossiping.

He's just afraid to say it out loud.

Back in the Castle, Coran receives them, seeming to have never left his place since they had left hours ago. Everyone knows that he came to check if the Princess was in perfect condition as when she had left the Castle to board the ship to the Space Mall, but when he sees the long faces adorning the faces of the couple who had been on a date, he seems to understand the situation and pity them a little, asking what happened.

Lance manages to see how Keith looks down a hallway, somewhat curious at the arrival of the group, bringing all the thoughts that he had momentarily left behind: all the anguish, frustration and dreams are accumulating in his head, and he is fed up. This time nothing holds him in place like a prison with chains and he decides to run from the scene with tears in his swollen eyes, eyes that were already exhausted from all the crying and asking for a break.

When he gets to his room, he lies with his back to the door and, just minutes after suffering in silence, someone knocks on his door. With a somewhat broken voice, he manages to say a “Come in” that he knows is received when the door opens to reveal Hunk, who approaches and sits on the bed next to him. 

The scene prevails in silence for what seems like an eternity, but there is no tension involved, much less any discomfort found. Lance accepts Hunk as a brother to tell him all his most intimate secrets, receiving the same from the other part. They both feel comfortable with each other, like a family in a way.

“So,” Hunk begins slowly, as if he were trying to approach a frightened animal, “What happened there? Because—it's okay that you have this whole symptom thing, I—I was stung too, but since I don't have the same symptom as you, and—and I haven't felt so terribly irritated as to get completely angry, I can't know what's going on in that head of yours” his words are careful, afraid to say something that could hurt his friend even more. Lance appreciates the gesture “We are friends, Lance. I— I consider you my brother, but I can't know everything if you don't talk to me."

Lance turns around to confront him, his head still lying on the pillow damp from the tears that had escaped him. “I— Hunk, I'm going to die,” he admits, with harsh words that contain nothing but the pure truth. 

Hunk's eyes widen at this statement and he squirms agitatedly in his spot, wanting answers to the obvious questions ringing in his head.

 “Allura, she— going on a date with her wasn't what I wanted. It was all a lie from the beginning, sorry” he apologizes “I can't stop thinking—I get distracted easily, my dreams torment me and follow me wherever I go. Everything—” he sobs, hiding his face in his hands as he chokes out his words “Everything is getting complicated, I feel bad emotionally, I can't stop dreaming—” he stops, repressing a sob that escapes from between his lips, the drops crystalline overflow your eyes like the waves of an ocean.

Hunk leans against his side in an awkward position. Lance presses against him, looking for someone to hold on to in this pit he's been falling into for what has seemed like an eternity. He felt so cold from where he was lost in the darkness, but with his brother's warm embrace he has been able to find the light and illuminate his path. 

“It wasn't Allura, it never was—it may have been at one point, but it never lasted long enough. I always knew, the feeling was always there, he was always there” his head falls against Hunk's shoulder “It was Keith, since Garrison it was always him, I just denied it for a long time until it happened—” his hands flutter with a vague gesture around him, making a reference to what he says “—all this.”

“Lance…”

“I can't help it. I can't stop thinking about him and his entire stupid self: his silly mullet, the muscles that flex when he's sparring, the way his shirt fits around them, his eyes that can reflect a starry night about how dark they are, his damn impulses that make him make decisions to save us, how sometimes a curve forms at the corner of his mouth: a smile of relief every time he reviews how we all return to perfection from a mission—” his feelings come to the surface and he no longer tries to stop them, his lips murmur words that perfectly describe how Keith sees before his eyes, all of this and much more “I can't stand it, I love Keith, I want Keith to love me” he cries.

Hunk holds him as he cries in the silence of his room. His friend accompanies him to the door of dreams, letting him go further as he falls asleep in the arms of the tallest. 

Then, the dream begins.

Now it's much worse. He feels— no. He has realized that the only thing he has been vulnerable to is his dreams. He has exposed himself to them because now they know much more, now they have become more aware of him, of what he is afraid of, of how to continue tormenting him increasingly. Every interaction he has with Keith during his dreams has become what he fears most, what he loves most, what he longs for but is unattainable. Now his dream presents before his eyes a nightmare to which he can hold on.

He’s afraid because before he could at least hold on to the physical intensity, to that rawness that made him wake up gasping and completely dazed, with his body still remembering every stroke of pleasure and pain. Keith took him against any surface, making desperate moans from him as he fucked him mercilessly, leaving him a mess with all his hair stuck to his forehead from sweat and with his destroyed hole overflowing with the older's essence like a porn movie. But at least there was some relief in that brutality; a clear outcome, something tangible. Now, even that doesn't fit.

This dream is different. Warmer, sweeter... and much crueler.

The dream presents itself to him as another film, but this time with a different plot and genre. The scene unfolds before his eyes: it’s the two of them, walking together along a path that seems to have no end, with the sun slowly descending towards the horizon. The colors of the sunset in each other the sky in shades of orange and pink, reflecting on Keith's dark locks and softening his features. Lance feels the warmth of Keith's hand intertwined with his, their fingers fitting together so perfectly it's like they were made to be together.

The breeze blows softly, bringing with it the scent of flowers that Lance can't identify but that seems to envelop them in a bubble of tranquility. No noise breaks the moment, only the faint crunch of their footsteps on the grass of the path and the distant song of birds. 

His footsteps lead them to a small clearing where a blanket is spread on the ground, as if it had been waiting for him. A wicker basket sits to the side overflowing with fruit, bread, and something Lance can't recognize, but knows, deep down, is perfect. A large tree stands above them, its branches spreading with green leaves like a silent protector, creating a cool shade that welcomes them.

They sit together, and Lance can't help but observe every detail of Keith closely. How his dark hair moves with the wind adorned with such vivid and warm colors, how his profile is silhouetted against the soft light of the sunset. The peace on his face is something he rarely sees, and for a moment, he feels completely happy, as if the universe had given him exactly what he had always wanted without asking for anything in return.

Keith's hair rebels against the breeze, dark strands falling over his forehead and covering part of his eyes. Lance can't help it as soon as he realizes it; he reaches out, gently, and tucks the hair behind Keith's ear. His skin is warm under his fingers, and for an instant, everything around him stops. It feels like a dream (a part in the back of his brain screams and his heart shuts him up in a split second, enjoying the moment).

Keith turns his face slightly toward him, his eyes shining with something Lance can't name, but feels like a rush of heat straight into his chest. His cheek presses into Lance's palm, a gesture so simple and tender that it almost makes him cry. Then Keith slowly raises a hand and places it on top of his, holding it there, as if he doesn't want the moment to end either.

The wind continues to blow gently, moving the leaves over their heads, letting the tinged light of the sun play on their faces, like a brush with its paint. Lance feels like the whole world is reduced to this moment, to this contact. His touch finds an intimacy that couldn’t even be described with all the words in the world, the world is reduced to this .

Keith leans into him slightly, his eyes never leaving his. Lance stands still at first, but then their bodies seem to move in sync, as if something invisible is guiding them. Lance closes his eyes as he steps closer, the air between them charged with a soft, sweet electricity. He can feel Keith's breath brushing against his skin, warm and comforting, and his heart is beating so hard it feels like it's going to burst.

Everything is perfect, too perfect.

It's a dream come true , he thinks . A part of his mind corrects him: It's a dream come true .

Their lips are about to meet in a tender kiss, and Lance feels the weight of happiness consume his entire soul. The moment becomes so profound that he can barely understand it. But just at that moment, when everything seems within reach, the dream is broken. 

Everything around him collapses into small fragments of what could have been. The darkness, as perverse as it turns out to be before him, takes him into its light arms, with a cold embrace that makes him shiver, and then lets him fall without a doubt. The fall from this seems to have no end and suddenly, he thinks, this has become a nightmare that reflects how close he had been to getting what he wanted, but it was taken away from him so easily and then—

He gets out of bed agitated, his hands clinging to the blankets that had been covering him up to his head and he takes them off as if they were burning to the touch of his skin, as if they were burning him alive. Then he feels a tightness in his chest that does not allow him to breathe and vaguely remembers somewhere in his mind: the symptom of the third day. His eyes wander around the room, realizing he's still in his room.

He visualizes Hunk asleep on the bedroom floor on blankets and a pillow that he recognizes as items that do not belong to him. A fleeting thought crosses his mind, vaguely mentioning that his friend must have returned to his own room to stock up on whatever he is currently sleeping in. The thought seems like a tender act to him: that his friend didn’t want to abandon him in one of his worst moments. He smiles sweetly to himself.

He gets up from where he was sitting on the bed without making any noise that would cause his friend to wake up from his sleep. In his mind there is a single thought that resonates with the objective of releasing all the pain he has been carrying because of these dreams that afflict him day and night: go to train. He knows that this is a method that only Keith would probably approve of since, as is common knowledge to anyone, it’s relatively his method for anything.

If Keith is happy: training. If Keith is sad: training. If Keith is upset: training. The thought that lasts for a few good seconds makes him laugh with a sound that briefly echoes throughout the hallway, which makes him silence instantly because he remembers how at this moment everyone is sleeping in quiet peace. He doesn't want to bother them with this stupid thing that came up momentarily.

Before heading to the training room to begin his process of venting any dreams related to Keith , his feet march towards the kitchen to get some water due to the constant itching that burns his throat. The tightness in his chest causes him to want to cough, so in order not to wake anyone up, he tries to suppress his cough as much as possible so that what no one wants to happen at this point in the night doesn't happen.

When he feels the water run down your throat with a refreshing sensation that revives your vitality, he knows it's time to head to the training room. His feet walk step by step, carefully following the corridors full of darkness that will take him to his destination.

The doors to the training room close with a soft hiss behind him, enveloping Lance in an atmosphere of complete solitude. 

Without a second thought, he discards the jacket, letting it fall to the floor next to his feet. His fingers quickly work the sleeves of his long shirt, folding them up to the elbows. With an automatic movement, he takes off his shoes, leaving them next to his jacket, and feels the cold of the floor against the bare skin of his feet. The sensation shakes him, anchoring it at the moment. 

He picks up the bayard resting at his side, a flash of metallic blue shimmering under the room lights, and prepares himself. He mutters words into the air, some lights in the room turn on instantly with this, causing him to rub his eyes to get used to the harsh light. 

The session begins.

The soles of his feet glide gracefully over the ground, each movement fluid as if he was dancing. The cold of the ground is a contrast to the heat that begins to rise through his body, but doesn’t stop. 

Lance isn't training, not exactly. He’s channeling his internal torment into pure catharsis. Every shot he releases, every 'enemy' that falls before him, is a way of releasing the invisible weight he carries. His breathing becomes heavy, his muscles tense, but there’s something almost poetic about his movement: light, spinning steps, a body that curves and stretches, a fierce dance that transforms violence into art.

Lance's eyes close as he fires, as if he can sense the location of each training dummy through the air, as if their movements are choreography he has memorized. He doesn't need to look; Just shoot and listen to the sound of bodies falling. His bayard becomes an extension of his arm, the echo of gunshots filling the space, as his thoughts become lost in controlled chaos. In his mind, each one of them is a spectrum of his fears, his insecurities, his desires, everything that haunts him. And by shooting them he feels that, at least for an instant, he can escape from them.

But the weight on his chest doesn't go away. 

Dreams besiege him even when he is awake: unattainable. 

Training is an attempt to drown out those thoughts, but with every turn, with every shot, he sees them reflected in the shadows around him. His bare feet hit the ground harder, his breathing becomes a muffled roar, his hands clenching the bayard like it's the only thing holding it together.

And then he feels it. A presence behind him. 

He doesn't need to open his eyes to know who it is. 

Lance shoots the last training dummy without looking, hearing the impact, and only then does his eyes slowly open. There's Keith, standing in the doorway, his mouth slightly open and his eyes fixed on him. He doesn't know how long he's been there. Sweat runs down his forehead, sticking his shirt to his body, while his heart thunders in his chest like a runaway drum. He coughs, unable to find his breath, and for a second he feels exposed, vulnerable, as if Keith can see everything he's tried to bury beneath the frenzy of training.

The silence between them is deafening. Lance grips the bayard so tightly his knuckles turn white. He can’t hold Keith’s gaze for long; he feels like if he does, everything he’s been trying to hold back will crumble. The cold ground beneath his feet no longer anchors him; his heart beats so hard it feels like it’s about to break. Keith takes a step forward, but Lance can’t move.

His trembling legs, which he didn't know were shaking like a leaf exposed to the stormy air of a winter night, lose all strength beneath them and he allows himself to fall to the ground, longing only for a brief rest. His hands, in turn, lose control of his bayard and he is thrown to his side, returning to his natural form.

He hears Keith's footsteps quickly approaching him, as he crouches before his battered form on the training room floor. His arms, arms full of pure muscle and conscious of having spent hours training with his sword and knife, wrap around him. Keith's cold body leaning against his warm one feels like finding a drop of water in a vast desert under the sun's rays. 

One of his hands intertwined with his with an intimate touch that he wouldn't want to talk about if he was asked about it. The other hand follows a pattern on his back: alternating between rubbing or patting him in an attempt to calm his cough. Lance slowly feels like he can breathe again as the seconds pass in thunderous silence. He coughs lightly, finding his throat dry once again, but he feels refreshed as he lets out all the cough he's been holding in for quite some time until now. When he finds his voice, he decides to ask: 

“What are you doing here?” 

Keith laughs sarcastically, as if it truly makes him laugh, but he's trying to hide it in some way or another. “What am I doing here? I should ask you that, I spend all day here.”

He doesn't find any fault in his explanation, ok. Stupid Keith and his stupid response.

“Let me change the question, you brute,” he clears his throat dramatically, although it provokes another cough that is instantly subdued by Keith's pats on his back. When he is well, the other hand does not finish its touch, it remains there constantly: his index finger now draws circles on his left shoulder blade. “What are you doing here so early?”

Keith's doubtful eyes move to his face, analyzing him, as if he were looking for answers in writing. “Early?” asks “Early— Lance. It's morning,” he clarifies. 

“Oh”.

“Yes: oh” his arms hold him tightly in place, not wanting to let him go. Something inside Lance wants to respond in return: I don't want you to let me go either, I'll stay as long as you want if it's in your arms “How long have you been here?”

“I, huh, I don't know?” he tries.

“You don't know?” Keith almost yelled.

“I might have woken up in the middle of the night and wanted to train, you know? Don't be so oblivious to the idea,” he reproaches him.

So it's morning , Lance thinks. I must have spent a few hours here.

“Also: why do you ask so much?” a wicked smile spreads across his face as he asks, “Are you worried about me, mullet?”

The words reach Keith's ears, which is what it seems, because the boy frowns as if he's been caught in the act, but Keith's response is foreign to his own. 

Allura had explained to them, the same day they learned about Keith's crazy inhuman obsession with training, that the session would not start nor, in the same way, stop without any command in between. If a session starts and, at some point, they want a break, they’ll have to inform this with some command (which Allura had written down for them on a piece of paper in strange letters, but which he can now understand). On the other hand, if the session doesn’t receive any command to stop when it is running, it will only continue its normal course and will automatically intensify the level every ten minutes.

This was clearly what had happened on the spot: another training session begins, the robotic voice alerting both young men as several training dummies head towards them. At this, Keith moves away from Lance in a second while he takes his bayard, which the brunette had not even noticed until he made himself seen, and turns it into his typical sword while destroying the robots with a single blow.

The three bodies fall to the floor with a dry sound that echoes through the room and Keith's voice is heard before their ears, ending the training session. The bayard of the red paladin returns to its natural form, while its owner approaches again to attend to the Cuban on the ground. He helps him up with a single pull, placing all the other's weight on his own and Lance seems to be in heaven when he notices all this. A smile wants to spread across his lips, but before that happens, he feels the burning of his feet against the floor and a frequent pain in his finger where he had held down the trigger for, it seemed, hours since he had started.

He thanks Keith for helping him up with a murmur that doesn't even reach his own ears, but he doesn't even think about repeating it. His feet begin to head towards the corner of the room when everything begins to collapse again, he stumbles clumsily and hands cling to his skinny figure, careful not to let him fall. Lance's skin, not so much his skin really but let him dream for a moment, makes contact against Keith's side where the other is holding him down. The half-Galra helps him get to the benches where he had mainly wanted to go and, this time, thanks him with coherent words that are received. 

Keith heads to the center of the room, where they had both been huddled together so to speak, and then trots back to Lance to hand him his bayard that had been left lying around as if it were worthless.

“Thank you,” he murmurs once more, reaching out for his bayard and setting it aside on the bench.

Keith nods in acknowledgment and returns to his spot in the center of the room to begin training. His voice echoes off the walls like a shout to start the training session again. His bayard manages to transform into his traditional sword in time while his opponents fall to the ground as if they were nothing to each other, which should be something, in fact, because Keith spends hours in this place. Mention it just in case someone forgot.

Lance can do nothing but gawk at the sight before his eyes. He had come to the training room to seek solace and vent from those dreams that tortured him at night, and now: where was he? Answer: Watching Keith in the training room as he destroys doll after doll with that damn sword of his. His movements are fluid, trained, he flexes as if he were following a rehearsed choreography. He enjoys it, but can't tell if this it's the comfort he was looking for or not.

Keith begins to sweat as the session takes its time, his hair sticking to his face and the drops falling like a spring past his clothes. Lance's hands feel nervous where they grip the bench tightly, longing to reach out to grab Keith and run to the showers so they can have some time alone just the two of them.

Then, time seems to fall short so that an eternity is a fleeting breath in your ear. 

Keith's raspy voice resonates as he wraps up his first training session of the day. His movements slow down while wiping the sweat from his forehead with the back of his hand. He walks over to Lance, looking surprised for a moment, as if he'd forgotten that Lance was there as a spectator, which might be true considering how engrossed he was in his training. He doesn't say anything though, just gives him a look before picking up a towel and drying his neck.

“You should get more rest, you know?” Keith said, his tone almost like a reprimand, but there was a palpable concern in his words, one he had been harboring for a while.

Lance raised an eyebrow, giving a tired but defiant smile.

“Yes, of course, sir ‘I will train until I fall unconscious’ . Who are you to give me lessons?” He tried to hit back, but something in his voice lost its usual bite. It sounded more like a tired whisper than a challenge. He didn't feel like fighting.

Keith sighed, and instead of answering, he sat next to Lance on the bench. For a moment, neither of them said anything. The distant echo of the Castle's systems was the only thing filling the silence between them. Keith leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees.

“You don't have to carry everything yourself, Lance,” he said, his voice low, clear. The words seemed to come from a deeper place in him. The sincerity of his tone hit him like a blast of cold air.

For a moment, he didn't know what to answer. His mind spun as he looked at Keith, who was watching him with a quiet intensity, as if trying to understand something Lance couldn't yet verbalize.

"What do you mean?" he asked, although deep down he already knew exactly what Keith meant. But he wasn't ready to face it.

Keith stared at him, and there was something else in his eyes, something he wasn't prepared to face. Keith's look seemed to say more than a thousand words, and Lance, for a moment, was afraid that this would collapse everything he had tried to keep under control.

“I'm just saying... you can trust others. Trust… me” Keith responded, looking away at the end, as if those words had weighed more on him than he thought.

He knows it , he thought. He knows he's lying. 

However, before he could formulate a response, a delicious aroma burst into the moment. Lance raised his head, sniffed the air with the enthusiasm of a child, and his face immediately lit up, completely forgetting everything he had had in mind.

“Do you smell that?” he said, more like a statement than a question, almost running towards the door, unable to stop himself.

Keith followed without asking, knowing that at that moment, Lance needed something other than more training or complicated words. When they got to the kitchen, they found Hunk taking a chicken out of the oven, his smile wide and full of pride.

“Dude, where were you? I got a little scared when I didn't see you there” Hunk asked, as the aroma of chicken filled the room.

“Training,” he responded, already savoring the air around him.

“Training?” Hunk laughed, looking at his friend with a raised eyebrow. “That's something new.”

He sneered as Hunk walked over to the giant plate of rice and browned vegetables. Carefully, he cut the chicken and placed it on top of the food, stirring and adding a sauce that seemed to have Hunk's secret touch.

“This looks amazing,” Lance murmured, almost not realizing what he was saying. Hunger was taking over.

When Hunk finished, Lance quickly went to get the plates and hurried to take them to the dining room. The two walked together, Hunk with the plate carefully balanced while Lance, with a smile on his face, carried the other plates needed to serve.

Upon reaching the dining room, everyone gathered around the table, looking expectantly at the food Hunk had prepared. The group settled down, and the Cuban put each plate in its place. 

"That's it!" Hunk said, looking at everyone with a big smile. “Now: let's eat!”

Everyone looked at the Samoan, agreeing that Hunk should be the first to taste his masterpiece, but he insisted on serving the others first. With care and a satisfied smile, he distributes generous portions on each plate while everyone sincerely thanks him. When he finally sits down and takes the first bite, his eyes light up with a mix of nostalgia and love. Tears begin to form in his eyes as he remembers in a low voice:

“This is sapasui. My mom always prepared it for the holidays when I was a child. It was never missing from the table,” he explains.

Lance felt a mixture of emotion and understanding wash over him. The food had been more than just a recipe, it was a link to a past full of memories. 

“Hunk, this is amazing. Thank you for sharing it with us,” Allura said sincerely, and the others agreed with a nod.

 The conversation continued as everyone ate, absorbed in the flavor and the warmth of the company. But suddenly, Shiro raised his voice, interrupting the moment.

“There's only Pidge left to heal from the stung…” he mentions, with a relieved sigh.

At that moment, a heavy silence fell over the table. Hunk, Lance and Allura fell silent instantly. Shiro looked at them, noticing the change in their attitude.

"What's wrong?" he asks, his gaze fixed on them.

Allura looked at Lance, who felt her piercing gaze and hesitated before answering. She encouraged him from her spot with a sweet smile, and finally, he sighed.

“Going on a date with Allura wasn't what I really wanted… but…” he stops, struggling to find the words.

“Lance! We are on day three! We must hurry!” Shiro raises his voice, clearly frustrated, worried for the life of one of his friends.

But, although he felt the pressure, he responded quietly with his eyes fixed on his plate: “That's fine. We don’t have to rush.”

Keith, who had been silent throughout the conversation, suddenly raised his voice: “ ‘That’s fine’ ? You're a paladin, Lance! You can't just go and do that like it's nothing! We are a team!” he exclaimed, his tone fiercer than any had expected.

“Maybe someone can replace me,” he said, more to himself than to the others.

Keith, visibly angry, slammed his hands on the table before getting up and leaving the room with fast, furious steps. Shiro sighed, looking at Lance with a mix of frustration and understanding, “He'll calm down soon, but we need you to talk, Lance. If you don't tell us what's happening, we won't be able to help you.”

He shook his head, unable to continue. Pidge, trying to lighten the mood, suggested, “Let's at least enjoy these last few days. There is no use in fighting.”

Lance lets out a sad laugh. He thinks to himself: these last few days …

 His heart weighs with a sadness he cannot express.

The atmosphere becomes more melancholic, and although everyone tries to continue with the food and the conversation, the shadow of what has not been said remains floating in the dining room. He stares at the plate in front of him, his mind caught between the salty and delicious taste of the whipping and a bitter taste of what is to come that leaves a bad taste in his mouth.

“—nce? Lance!” 

“Huh?”

Hunk and Pidge stood in front of him, both frowning in confusion. Lance snapped out of his brief reverie with a couple of blinks as he paid attention to his surroundings, noting how at some point and somehow he had arrived at Pidge's room: how had he gotten there? He asked himself, but the answer did not come as something written, but rather as vague thoughts that appeared in his mind from one moment to the next.

“So— Lance… are you paying attention?” Pidge had asked, stretching out her ear to make her presence known to the other.

“I told you yes, what do you want?” he asked, drowning his words with a spoonful of sapasui that he had put in his mouth: he had ordered an extra dish, because, although his appetite had gone a little with the recent conversation, his friend knew how to cook spectacularly. Hunk should be a globally—no, universally known—chef. Yeah.

“Hunk and I are going to play video games, are you coming?” she questioned, with an amused tone, reaching out with one of her arms to hook it into Lance's and shake him constantly. 

He pretended to think about it while looking at her with a serious face. “Mhm,” he chewed. “I'll see,” he said finally, but it was obvious that he was going to go.

“Lanceee” she shook him, like a little girl throwing a tantrum. Well, funny, ha. She was a little girl throwing a tantrum.

"OKAY! I’ll go!”

"Good! We’re going to be in my room.”

From that, there was a blur of thoughts with gray clouds above them. Nothing was exactly clear to him, there wasn't even a coherent answer to how he had gotten there. 

“Lanceee!” Pidge shouted in his ear, her amused tone getting into his head, as if she were injecting him with her voice.

"What?" He asked in return, his words seeming disinterested, tired more than anything. It was true, he was tired: physically and emotionally. He just wanted to fall asleep and never dream about Keith again. That was obviously a lie, he would be happy to dream every second about Keith, if only his dreams were based on something other than causing him eternal sadness. Although in reality the dream didn’t provoke much, it was only reality that was reflected in them and that was what made him melancholic.

“You were like—” his face made a strange face. It must have been a poor attempt on his own, an imitation that might have given him a laugh on any other day, but now he was too tired to even move “—that.”

"Uh-huh".

“Bud, what's wrong with you?” Hunk walked up to his side, snuggling to his side while a shoulder surrounded his shoulders and brought him impossibly closer. “You're weird today.”

Lance sighed, looking at his hands that were holding the worst imitation of what a video game controller should be. His fingers played with some buttons as he let out another sigh, this time resigned. “It's—difficult. I'm going to die, I already accepted it” a deja vu from the night before passed like a fleeting thought in his mind. “Now the whole group knows: Shiro is frustrated or worried, whatever. Keith is angry. Allura already knew it, or assumed it. Pidge—” he glanced at her, who was leaning against his other side “—must have guessed by now, if she didn't already know. And I already told you. Coran—I don't even want to think about how he is. I don't feel well”.

“Dude…” Hunk began, “There must be another way.”

"How?" Lance asked. “If there was a way to trick the bug stung—if there was a way to turn back time and be able to wish for something else—I —I…” the words stuck in his throat like a knot he couldn't undo. They didn't even stagnate on the tip of his tongue. It was as if they had not been allowed to leave, as if they had been locked there for eternity. He couldn't express himself, he couldn't speak out loud like this. He was afraid. 

“Would you have wanted something else? Really?"

“…” his voice was silent, his thoughts clouded as he tried to formulate a coherent response among the entire maze of emotions in his head. His eyes stared at a fixed point on the wall, half-closed, tired “I don't know—I, I think I want to go to sleep. I'm going to rest" he stood up from his place, untangling his limbs where his friends had grabbed them "Don't you dare break my record" he tried to joke, but the joke didn't seem to reach the other two when they looked at him with complete concern.

“Lance—”

"Good night".

He reaches his room with unbalanced steps. The door to his room opens, revealing his neat bed behind it, Hunk must have ordered it. His body fell without hesitation onto the bed, which instantly embraced him with warmth and held him in its kind blankets, which surrounded him and snuggled him as if he were a small child. His eyelids, as heavy as they felt, never wavered as he let them fall. 

Darkness prevailed for a moment and dreams came to sweep him away once more. His wicked hands went up to his ankles in the middle of the darkness, holding him with inhuman strength and taking him to the wolf's den to torment him one more night. This time, he tried to fight sleep, to confront the fatigue, but so loaded with hopes and promises that they filled his ears, he let himself be mistreated and thus fell.

This time, it was different again. 

However, it was neither brutal nor harsh like the excitement it had once been, nor warm and welcoming like the sunset had been. No, this time he could say with certainty that it terrified him.

He was wearing his Paladin armor. It seemed to be some sort of Galra mission, as both he and Keith were taking up space on one of their ships. The two were back to back, fighting side by side and covering each other's weak spots. They both ended up being surrounded, he doesn't know how it happened, how so many soldiers had accumulated, but they tried to fight against it.

On the one hand, it ended well since they had defeated most of them, since some had run screaming into the air. On the other hand, Keith was curled up on the floor, his back against the wall as he let his head fall back with a hiss of pain escaping his lips. He was holding the wound, located on the right side of his lower stomach. 

Lance crouched close to him, a little panicking and a little trying to stay calm to check on his partner. A hand reached out to check him, but before he could make contact with the wound, a hand slammed into his. Keith had swatted him away, his furious but pain-filled eyes staring at him. 

"What are you doing?!" he asked howlingly.

“I—I was trying to check you out,” Lance says, like it's the most obvious thing in the world. 

Keith laughed sarcastically, his face scrunched up in a strange grimace of pain. “Check me out!” He yelled, “This is your fault, Lance,” he accused. One of his hands, the one that wasn't covering his open wound, reached out to point his index finger at him in a sharp motion against his chest. “If you had paid more attention I wouldn't be hurt!”

“Keith—what…?” tried.

“If you hadn't been distracted looking at me you could do something right” at this Lance was surprised and stepped back a few centimeters.

“How—since when—did you know…?” he asks between stammers.

Keith laughs again, but this time hatefully. “You're so obvious, Lance.”

Is it too obvious? Is it so obvious that Keith himself would notice? No… there was no way, so had he been exposed from the beginning? “And—what do you think? About that, I mean,” he laughs, nerves flooding the tone of his voice. He scratches the back of his head to hide it a little, but his eyes are directed to the other's face, full of any existing negative emotion.

“What do I feel? Lance… are you that stupid?” he asks, spitting out the words in disgust. “You disgust me, you and everything you think you are. Lance just—just that a look of yourself” he laughs “No one would ever want you, you’re not special. You seem so full of yourself, but you're a lie. You are just a complete farce, you don't even believe it yourself.”

Lance's tears pooled in the corners of his eyes as he let out small gasps filled with pure pain at every word that dared to come out of Keith's mouth. His feet had moved back until his back made contact with the wall, leaving a slide against it. His hands went to the communicator to warn that Keith was injured, but when he was finally about to press the button, the boy spoke again.

“Don't even try hard, Lance. I'd rather die than live in some world where you have any romantic affection for me, shit. I think I'd rather die than live in some world where I have to bear you”.

Lance cried uncontrollably, burying his face between his knees as a method of hiding and not becoming even more vulnerable to the other. 

Then, several jolts brought him back to reality. His eyes were wet with actual tears, but there was a light on, which Lance assumed must be the one in his room. In front of him, a blurry figure appears between the opacity of his eyes, his hands rush to his eyes to wipe away the crystalline drops that slide down his cheeks and ruin his entire face.

It doesn't stop.

No matter how hard he tries, the tears continue to fall heavily. The silhouette sits next to him on the bed and rubs figures with strange patterns on his back, which seems to begin to calm him little by little. His sobs stop as he sinks against the other person, bringing a comforting warmth. A foreign hand explores his face and wipes away the remaining tears that had been overflowing his eyes.

“Keith” saying his name after a nightmare like the one he had was a little creepy, thinking that this could be part of the dream had him wondering with the biggest question of the moment.

“Lance,” says his voice, but there is no disgust or hatred in his tone. It’s his neutral voice, the one he uses every day to speak to anyone. 

His shoulders lighten from where they were tense and he asks, “What are you doing here?”

“You were screaming. When I came to check, you were crying and shaking you in bed".

Lance laughs crestfallen, somewhat embarrassed but relieved that they had taken him out of that nightmare by force. Keith's hand on his back doesn't stop, the pressure feels warm against his skin, he feels like he can find some kind of comfort in the touch. They are both silent, the black-haired boy doesn't say anything and his movement is constant, welcoming, so much so that Lance thinks he could stay like that forever. Take a photograph and live in this precise moment.

His head wavers on Keith's shoulder, where the muscle instantly tenses. Lance is about to back away, feeling like he's crossed a line they've both drawn. He feels that Keith is about to get angry like in his dream-nightmare, that he’s going to leave him again and cause him to cry, without being able to recover this time. He's about to apologize for what he did and promise never to go near Keith again, but then the boy relaxes where he had stiffened. 

In return, Keith slowly lays his head against his own, both of them fitting together perfectly as if they were meant to snuggle in this tender way, as if they both belonged together. Lance wants it to be so, to be fulfilled for all it's worth. 

The scene feels like the second dream he had, or rather his third dream, but the pool incident was something he was going to take to the grave with a lock and key to rust over the years. This time, he doesn't want to wake up, this is not a dream and he knows it, but this time he can freely say: It's a dream come true , and no one is going to correct it. But it burns his heart, a constant pressure making him choke and he clings to Keith as he coughs briefly.

When he calms down, Keith is watching him like he hung up the stars and the moon just so Keith could see it ( funny , because if he could, he would) and then his mouth opens with a gentle movement of his lips and he asks, “What did you wish for?”

Lance doesn't know if he wants to respond, so he presses himself tightly against Keith's chest, where his heart thuds against his ribcage as if he wants to run out of the room. Lance can't find his voice or the courage to put his emotions into coherent words, so he doesn't respond and decides to remain silent.

Keith gets up from his place, slipping away from Lance's grip as he says “Lance” his eyes are full of pain, eyes crystalline and so dark that they could reflect like a mirror if he wanted to “I can't watch you die—”.

Lance is about to intervene when Keith leans forward, his arms reaching out to put his hands in a firm grip on the Cuban's shoulders and an expression that doesn't speak out loud but clearly tells him to shut his mouth for a moment. .

“I can't watch you die,” he repeats, “And I think I speak for everyone right now. I can't watch you die because we need you on the team and not to form Voltron. During these months we have become a family and we all need each other, so I cannot accept that you die that easily.”

The words feel warm against his heart, which hugs each one like they're little people, but somehow they hurt and he stutters a silent, “I can't—Keith, I can't say it—.”

Keith takes a few steps back and the room falls silent again. “I wanna help you,” he confesses. “I wanna help you, but I don't know how. I can't do anything and it makes me angry, I don't want you to die. We are all willing to sacrifice something, anything, but we need our Blue Paladin to continue living. Lance—please…” he begs.

Lance doesn't respond, staring at him like he's trying to express everything he can't say out loud. He looks at him intently as if he wants to show him how much all this that is happening means and that he can't tell him because he can't reach his voice in the darkness. Lance stares at him as if he wants to express that and much more about how much he loves him, how much he's been longing for him all this time, but he can't because he's afraid.

Keith seems to take Lance's silence as a sign, because he's ready to leave and actually tries to. Then Lance leans forward to grab his arm with one last unspoken plea, and at the sudden action, he falls off the bed and is now on his knees before Keith. And, oh, how much he had wanted to be in this position , but he knows that now is not the time, although it could be the place.

He sobs into the older's pants, holding him as if he were a toddler throwing a tantrum. Lance finds his voice, distant, but recognizes it beyond the threshold and appeals in a broken, choked voice “No—don't leave me, please, Keith. Don't leave me. No—no no, don't do this to me now. I need you, please, I need you Keith. Stay.”

Keith grabs him from under the arms firmly but carefully, lifting him up easily as Lance continues to sob. The older wipes away his tears with both thumbs, his expression hardened with worry. “I'm here, Lance,” he murmurs, his voice low but filled with an almost comforting determination. “I'm not going anywhere.”

Without saying anything else, Keith leads him to the bed. He lies down first, leaving room for the other to follow, and when he does, he settles him in his arms in the spooning position, with Keith being the bigger spoon, of course . Lance feels the heat of his body behind him, a solid presence that should be enough to calm him, but insecurity and fear still burn under his skin.

That night, the nightmares are not like the usual ones. 

This time it's not about losing Keith during a Galra mission that his own dreams had made up for the sake of the plot to torture him. No.

Now Lance stands away as an invisible spectator, sitting in the shadows as he watches Keith laugh and live, happy, but without him. It's as if his existence didn't matter, as if he had never been a part of your life. Keith doesn't look for him, he doesn't miss him, because Keith doesn't even know him. Keith doesn't even know it exists, because he doesn't. Lance tries to scream, but no sound comes out of his mouth, and despair consumes him as he sobs silently from his dark corner.

He doesn't know which nightmare is worse: losing Keith or being invisible to him. 

When Lance wakes up, his breathing is erratic and his body is covered in cold sweat, but reality hits him softly. He feels a strong arm around his waist, supporting him, and the warmth of another arm lying under his head like a pillow. Keith hasn't moved. He's still there, breathing slowly, his warm exhalations caressing the back of Lance's neck. His heart beats against the boy's back, constant and firm, as a reminder that everything is okay. At least for now.

Lance stands still and slowly turns around to observe it. His hands rest on his own chest, and for the first time in hours he feels a light, almost happy tingle. His heart beats fast, not out of fear this time, but because his mind is filled with scenarios where Keith is always there, with him. A small smile crosses his lips, but he doesn't dare move. 

He doesn't want to break the moment.

Then the change in Keith's breathing alerts him. 

He knows that he’s waking up and, in an act of instinct, he quickly closes his eyes, pretending that he's still asleep. He feels the arm around his waist move carefully, as if Keith was trying not to disturb him so as not to wake him. It's a sweet gesture, but he can't help but feel an emptiness that suffocates him a little when the contact between their bodies is lost. Keith manages to remove his arm that Lance was using to lean against him and gently replaces it with the pillow that the older had been sleeping on. 

Lance feels the mattress lift as Keith's weight slides off the bed in a slight movement. His footsteps move away from where Lance is 'sleeping' and it seems that the other is about to leave, but, before that happens, he hears his feet retreat towards him. A weight looms over the Cuban, but he can't stop to think what Keith is doing when a firm press of soft lips pressed against his temple. 

The oldest covers him with the blankets up to shoulder height, feeling each place with his hands to verify if they were properly placed. Just like that, his feet move away again and he hears the door open with a slow metallic movement. However, before the sound of Keith's footsteps reaches his ears to alert him after he left, his heart thunders and forces him to stand up suddenly while he shouts:

“It was you!” At the sudden noise in the silent darkness of the room, Keith whips around to see him across the meters separating their bodies. As this happens, Lance continues to scream, his eyes automatically closing as if he can’t confront the situation. “It was you all along, what I— what I wanted most was you. It was always you.” His eyes widen in fury and his cheeks flush a tender red.

Lance has no regrets anymore. 

He had days to think about it and he had wasted that time like an idiot. He had even opened his arms to death without time for doubts to arise as a distant thought, he had already accepted everything that was going to happen in a matter of days. He had felt that until hours ago he could begin to count the days he had left to live, the hours he could enjoy with his companions and the few moments of fun they would have.

Now he has thought better of it and there’s no room for regret. He knows that this could end from one moment to the next, but he knows better that if he doesn't try, at least once, he wouldn't have a chance against the bug bite, against imminent death. He has three days to live, but those three days could become more if he gave it just one chance, if he agreed to expose his feelings to Keith, if he expressed them out loud.

Keith just has to listen (and agree to see it the way he sees it, but those are minimal, not so minimal , details).

Keith's words echo in his head like a constant reminder of what could happen, of how willing this man is to not let his life become just another star in the night sky, of what he's willing to sacrifice to not see him die in the dramatic way he's destined to. The words stick in his head, he can't do this to the team, to the family they've become. To Keith, who looked so vulnerable when he confessed all of this.

"I love you!" He yelled “I love you, mullet,” he repeats, his voice lower in tone, embarrassed. 

And then, when Keith strides over to where he lies in the center of the bed to place his open palm covered in his fingerless gloves against his burning cheek, whisper against the corner of his mouth, “I love you too.” and join their lips in a tender kiss, it occurs to him in the back of his mind that this could never have gone wrong in any way. Now he understands: Allura had been reassuring him because she already knew that Keith also loved him the same way. Because she knew that if Lance wasn't so stupid and confessed in time, he wouldn't die. 

The tender and fleeting kiss that should have been becomes a lasting one when the seconds don’t wait for them to separate, a hungry kiss that forcibly takes the air from their lungs. Lance's hands sink into Keith's soft hair, tangling his fingers in the strands of hair to play with them, and Keith, in return, continues to hold his cheek gently while his other hand runs down his spine to stop at Lance’s waist. In this way, their bodies come together once again, made for each other, and create a heat that fills the room with the simple contact of their skin.

Unfortunately, their mouths have to separate seconds to fill their lungs with oxygen and live to tell the story of the moment. When this happens, Lance's lips let out a gasp as Keith's firm hand on his waist moves lower to squeeze his butt and the older uses this gasp to his advantage to join their lips in a French kiss, increasing the level of their kisses as they go.

The seconds pass and the separation is imminent, but their lips meet again, hungry for each other. When they manage to breathe a fraction of air, Keith's lips part with a sigh to ask, “Is this what you wanted?” between labored breaths.

And Lance, at the sudden question, responds with a muffled moan, “I want you —please, hurry up Keith” as he tries to pull him closer to his mouth, pulling his hair forward and tilting it just enough to place an open-mouthed kiss on the corner of his lips.

Keith laughs softly, a little out of breath. A kiss is placed on his lips, soft and delicate. Then the oldest moves to sit against the edge of the bed, his legs fall out of the bed towards the floor. Keith gives him a vague wave of his hand as he smiles and looks at him with longing eyes, and Lance can't do anything but rush over and sit on top of the other. His legs on either side of Keith's thighs, while the other's hands rest on his butt to make him fall into his lap.

Lance squeals as he falls onto the other's hard thighs, directing it an accusing look as he feels Keith's cock rise like a tent in his pants. Keith laughs with a malicious sound, but Lance decides not to pay much attention to him and returns his hands to the half-Galra's hair, making a mess of it. Their lips lean in to press against each other's and join them in a fervent kiss, Keith's hands press on his butt and his hips move in circles while creating a pleasant friction between their bodies. 

This happens for a good couple of minutes, both of their moans beginning to fill the space of the room when they have to separate. Then Keith stops at some point, Lance protests a little at this, but tries to take it for himself and lean into the opponent's lips. However, Keith denies his kisses and the Cuban lets out a pitiful sound, although his hips never stop moving as he works his lower parts.

Keith grabs him hard by the buttocks to stop him. "Lance," he calls, his eyes immediately flying to meet the other's. "How far do you want to go?" He sounds desperate, even his hands shake where he's holding him, as if he wants to let go and continue with all the action they've been having. Keith must be holding himself back incredibly hard not to jump on Lance, since the latter would have done it a long time ago by now.

“I'll take all you can give me,” he says breathlessly, trying to move again, but the hands continue to hold him in place firmly. “What?” he asks, brow furrowed in confusion.

Keith lets out a frustrated sigh. “No—I'm not going to do anything you don't want to,” he confesses, although it seemed like the most obvious thing, at least it was to Lance. “You have to tell me how far.”

“Until the end” begs “Now hurry up, mullet.”

“For this to work, I think we need lube, idiot.”

“Oh” escapes his mouth, in the heat of the moment the lube had not appeared in his mind, not even in the darkest corner. Keith was right, even if saliva was an option for preparation, his butt would regret it the next day and he'd be struggling to sit up for hours, culminating in Pidge making fun of him, surely.

“Yeah: oh,” Keith scoffs, “Go get that damn lube.”

Keith's hands slip from his grasp and for a moment Lance feels an instinct to go back to grinding against each other like animals, but he decides to get up to find the lube before he has to fight his mind and decide which one. It is the best option (or the one that generates the most pleasure).

His bare feet hit the cold floor as he rushes to the bathroom, with a determination that seems to electrify him every movement. His hand fumbles urgently until he finds the lubricant bottle, fingers closing around it. He returns to the room with quick steps, his heart beating in a rhythm in time with his labored breathing.

When he arrives, he doesn't even stop to think; his body acts before his mind. He sets the bottle aside almost carelessly, with a quick but precise movement, like someone who doesn't want to lose a second of something valuable. He throws himself into Keith's lap with an ease that only comes from the heat of the moment, an impatient movement.

The impact is soft but full of intentions. His face seeks refuge in the other's strands of black hair, disheveled from his previous actions but scented with a scent he hadn't noticed, but craves. He allows himself a second there, breathing deeply, letting that aroma flood his senses. His hands rest on Keith's shoulders, not just for support, but to connect beyond the physical.

When he starts to move his hips, the touch is slow at first, almost experimental. The rhythm becomes gentle circles that seem to reignite something in the air around them. Keith's laugh, low and full of knowing amusement, vibrates in his ear, and that sound causes a small but confident smile to appear on his lips.

Lance can't hold back anymore. 

His face leans, seeking the other's with a clear intention, a hunger that he does not try to hide. His teeth capture Keith's lower lip with a precision that seems practiced, but still, the delicacy is not lacking. He pulls on it, letting the friction awaken something more in both of them.

The moan that escapes Keith is all he needs to confirm that his movements, his decision not to wait, were right. Lance releases Keith's lower lip and stays there, very close, watching out of the corner of his eye as Keith's breathing changes, as his eyes search for him with an intensity that leaves him breathless. 

Time seems to stop, encapsulating this moment in something that is uniquely theirs.

Keith's hands slide cautiously down his back, moving like explorers in unknown terrain. His fingers find the edge of the thin fabric of Lance's shirt, probing it with a mix of curiosity and purpose. He slowly pulls it up and Lance, always ready, raises his arms in a simple but intimate gesture, making the task easier. The fabric gives easily, sliding over your skin.

When the shirt is tossed aside, Keith pauses for a moment. His dark eyes, filled with an intensity that makes the air seem heavier, roam over Lance's bare torso. The inches of caramel-hued skin, every line and curve that draws a map Keith wants to explore, draws him toward tantalizing danger.

Without wasting any more time, Keith rips off his own shirt. The movement is abrupt, almost desperate, and the garment joins Lance's in a small forgotten mound. His hands, covered in fingerless leather gloves, lunge at the exposed torso in front of him. They press and move impatiently, as if they can't play enough.

Lance lets out a small squeal that turns into a moan as the cold leather contrasts with the searing warmth of his skin. Keith's fingers, firm and sure, rise to his nipples, where they begin to tease with a precision that shouldn't be possible. Every touch, every twist, and every slight tug makes the sensitive little spots swell, drawing shaky gasps from Lance's lips as he arches for more.

His body is thrown to the side on the blankets, falling with a soft sound, like a muffled 'puff'. His head rests on the pillows for a second before instinct prompts him to stand up, propping himself up on his elbows to watch.

And what he sees leaves him breathless. 

Keith in front of him, his hands struggling with the belt that seems to resist. The hurried, clumsy movements should be funny, and at any other time Lance would have let out a mocking laugh, but now he can only watch. His eyes follow every line of the half-Galra body, the pale skin adorned with scars that Lance wants to touch.

The belt finally gives way with a tug, falling to the floor with a sharp, metallic sound that echoes in the charged silence of the room. Keith wastes no time; his gloves follow the same fate, quickly torn off and dropped next to his belt, not caring where they end up.

His hands, now free, find the button on his pants. Lance can't help but let out a low moan as he watches Keith's fingers unbutton him, slowly revealing the black hair peeking out from beyond the pale skin. Something inside him lights like a match, a heat spreading through his chest and stomach, every second fueled by the sight before him.

Keith drops his pants, leaving him only in his underwear. His gaze falls on Lance as if there was no one else in the universe and, with one confident movement, he leans towards him. His lips, warm and soft, begin to travel over Lance's body, leaving a trail of kisses that suck, lick, and leave marks for the others to see.

Lance's breathing hitches as Keith's hands reach the waistband of his pants. With a quick tug that takes him by surprise, he slides them down, leaving Lance panting and exposed. Their bodies are now only covered by underwear which seems more of an obstacle than a protection.

Keith grabs Lance's legs, lifting them easily to place himself between them. The back of his thighs rest against Keith's strong thighs, and the contact makes Lance close his eyes for a moment, letting out a shaky breath. Keith leans in again, his mouth finding a dark nipple which he attacks with lips and tongue. His right hand wastes no time, playing with the other nipple as the Cuban arches his back and lets his head fall back, lost in the haze of excitement that surrounds him.

Every movement, every contact, is a connection that only they can understand. The room is filled with heat, labored breathing, and a desire that threatens to overflow.

Keith's hand, warm and firm, rests on Lance's erection, still trapped under the thin fabric of his boxers. The rubbing is intentional, a slow massage in circular motions that send waves of pleasure through Lance's body. The contact is not enough to satisfy, but it’s enough to further ignite the need that consumes him. Lance bites his bottom lip, closing his eyes as his hips move almost imperceptibly, seeking more friction, more of Keith.

After a while of teasing his breast, Keith finally releases the dark nipple with a wet, dirty sound, a 'pop' that echoes through the air. His eyes, bright and hungry, slowly lower, roaming over Lance's body as if devouring him. Finally, his gaze lands between his legs, where the fabric of his boxers can barely contain his obvious erection, a small wet spot marking the exact spot of his desire.

Keith can't help but smile lopsidedly, a mix of adoration and triumph as he sees how Lance is completely surrendered to him. His hands slide to the waist of the garment, lowering it with a deliberate, almost torturous slowness. The fabric slides inch by inch, until Lance's erection springs free with a jerk, springing from its confines.

The cold air of the room hits his sensitive skin, drawing a low gasp from him. Keith watches carefully, as if every detail were a work of art designed just for him. His fingers, long and calloused, move to wrap around Lance's length, playing with the precision of someone who knows exactly what he's doing.

The first movement is slow, a sway that barely touches the skin, but enough to make Lance's hips tremble. His hands, still exploring, trace imaginary lines on his skin, discovering sensitive spots with each touch. The pressure gradually increases, and the rhythm becomes more constant, sending waves of pleasure that make Lance hide his face in his arms, muffling the moans that fight to escape his throat.

“Hurry,” Lance begs, his voice trembling, heavy with need. 

Keith lets out a deep, low, mocking laugh. “Bossy,” he murmurs with an amused smile, without stopping the movement of his hand. His gaze, however, slides to the lubricant abandoned to the side. With confident movements, he reaches for it and uncaps the bottle with a soft 'click'. The clear liquid slips between his fingers and Keith takes a moment to rub it in, leaving it warm before continuing.

Meanwhile, Lance can't sit still. The heat that runs through his body drives him to act. With hasty movements, he gets rid of his boxers, pushing them down his legs until they fall to the floor along with the rest of his clothes. His now completely naked body arches slightly, his hips moving for Keith's hand, craving more contact, more friction, more everything. More Keith.

Keith watches everything closely, his breathing quickening as his fingers, now wet and slippery, approach Lance again. The sight before him – his naked body, his hips moving with need, his longing eyes in anticipation of the moment – ​​fills him with a desire so deep it threatens to consume him completely.

Carefully, Keith presses with a single finger, sliding the tip in with slow, measured strokes. Lance lets out a small gasp, his body tensing momentarily before relaxing around the intruder. Keith watches him carefully, listening for any sign of discomfort. Slowly, he adds a second finger, widening the space with gentle movements, twisting and stretching as the other moans, his chest rising and falling rapidly.

“Is it ready?” he asks suddenly, his voice hoarse and heavy with desire, interrupting Keith's leisurely pace.

Keith frowns, pausing for a moment. “Not yet,” he says. “I want you to be fully prepared. I don't want to hurt you.”

Lance shakes his head, impatient. “I don't care,” he murmurs, his eyes shining with hunger. “I want to feel it… I want the stretch. Do it now.”

Keith lets out a deep sigh, like he's fighting with himself. The determination in his voice pushes him to the limit of his patience. “Pervert,” he murmurs, a low laugh vibrating in the air between them. Finally, he moves to push his boxers down, leaving enough room to release his erection.

Lance, who has been watching every move, leans in to look, and his eyes widen at the sight. His throat goes dry and, almost automatically, a drop of saliva slides down the corner of his lips. He can tell it's a little longer than his (JUST A LITTLE), but the surprise comes from the thickness. It's impressive, in a way that makes a searing heat spread across the bottom of his stomach.

Keith, noticing Lance's gaze, raises an eyebrow and smiles in amusement. “Seeing something you like?” He asks with a playful tone.

Lance nods quickly, almost desperate. “A lot,” he answers.

Keith leans forward, closing the distance between them to leave a trail of warm kisses down Lance's chest. His mouth slides gently over his tanned skin, while his hands take his erection firmly. He presses the tip against Lance's entrance, playing with circular motions that brush and outline the edge, deliberately teasing him.

“Stop teasing,” he cries, arching for more contact. “If you don't put it in now—!”

Before he can finish his retort, Keith silences him the only way he knows how: with a slow but relentless movement, he pushes his hips forward, sinking into him with a depth that seems to have no end.

Lance gasps hard, his body arching as the stretch burns him with a perfect mix of pleasure and pain. His hands dig into the blankets, holding on tight as he feels every inch make its way inside him. Keith stops only when his hips are completely flush against Lance's ass, buried deep.

For a moment, time seems to stop. The contact is electric, the sensation intense, and Lance can barely breathe, lost in a heat that consumes him completely. Keith moves barely, adjusting his position, and with that first accidental brush against his prostate, Lance lets out a broken moan, his head falling back as pleasure washes over him like an uncontrollable wave.

Keith stands still, letting Lance get used to it, while his own arms shake with the effort of keeping himself under control. But in his eyes, the need grows, ready to overflow at any moment.

"Are you okay?" Keith asks.

Lance looks at him like he's grown a second head. “Are you kidding me now?” and when he receives a shake of the head from the older man, he brings him closer to whisper against his lips “I have never been better” and in this way he brings their lips together, their tongues dancing with each other enthusiastically.

In one slow motion, Keith pulls his hips back, feeling Lance tighten around him. He doesn't pull out all the way, keeping the tip inside, before pushing in again, this time with a little more force, sinking deep.

The first thrust draws a long moan from Lance, who arches his back and digs his hands deeper into the blankets beneath him. Keith repeats the movement, withdrawing and thrusting with a rhythm that begins to gain strength. Every time he enters, the sound of skin slapping fills the room, mixing with the gasps and sighs of both.

Keith watches as Lance completely surrenders under him. His chest rises and falls rapidly, his face covered in a deep blush as his body responds eagerly to each thrust. Keith adjusts the position slightly, leaning forward, and with the next movement, he hits his prostate directly.

Lance cries out, his voice filled with pure pleasure, as his hips instinctively move into Keith, searching for more. “Ngh, there—mhn, right there—ha…Keith!” he gasps, his voice barely audible among the chaos of his labored breaths.

Keith smirks, marking the exact spot that makes him shiver. His movements become firmer, thrusting with almost cruel precision, making sure to graze that spot with every thrust. Lance can't hold back, his body trembling as waves of pleasure pass through him relentlessly.

Keith's hands search for stability, gripping Lance's hips, his fingers leaving marks in the tanned skin as he increases the intensity. Their breaths blend into perfect chaos, and the room seems to vibrate with the energy of their movements.

“Is this—ah— what you wanted?” Keith growls, his voice low and heavy with desire. Lance can barely respond with a nod, his head falling back as another moan rips through him.

Keith picks up the pace, letting instinct take control. Lance, completely caught between pleasure and pain fading into something sublime, can do nothing but hold on and keep up, his nails clawing at the sheets as his mind drifts into a haze of euphoria.

Keith continues thrusting with a constant rhythm, each movement deeper and more precise than the last, drawing broken moans from the other, who can barely keep up under the torrent of sensations that overwhelm him. His body shakes with each thrust.

The pressure inside Lance grows rapidly, building like a knot of heat in his lower abdomen. His erection rubs against Keith's belly with every movement, adding delicious friction that brings him dangerously close to the edge. His breathing becomes more erratic, his gasps more desperate.

“I'm not going to last much longer,” Lance gasps, barely able to form the words.

Keith, face covered in sweat and eyes dark with desire, grunts in response. His pace becomes even more relentless, his hips slamming into Lance with a force that fills the room with the sound of their skin slapping together. Keith leans his body forward, capturing Lance's lips in a deep, wet kiss as he continues to move relentlessly.

Lance is the first to give in. His body suddenly tenses, his back arching as he pulls away from Keith's lips to let an uncontrollable moan escape his lips. The pressure explodes inside him and his orgasm hits him with an intensity that leaves him breathless. Waves of pleasure course through him, his cum coating his abdomen and some of Keith's as his body shakes with spasms.

Lance’s climax causes his insides to clench, and that’s enough to push Keith over the edge. Feeling the contractions around him, Keith lets out a deep, guttural growl, sinking completely inside Lance as his own orgasm consumes him. His body shudders as he releases everything inside him, heat flooding into the Cuban as his movements finally stop, his hips shaking with the last waves of pleasure.

For a moment, the room is silent, broken only by the labored breathing of both of them. Keith lowers himself onto Lance gently, but not completely, their bodies sticky and warm pressed against each other. Lance raises a shaky hand to stroke Keith's hair.

“Ah…” Keith breathes.

“That… was intense,” he whispers, a weak smile curving his lips.

"Are you okay?" he asks then, looking him straight in the eyes.

Lance blinks a few times. “What—? Keith—” his voice cuts off “Keith, shit. You fucked me so good you made me moan like a fucking whore,” he confesses, his tone full of amusement. “How can I not be okay?” 

“Fuck, you really know how to ruin moments,” he says then, placing a chaste kiss on the corner of Lance's mouth. “I just needed a yes, idiot,” he laughs.

He shrugs from his position. “I'm sorry,” he whispers against his lips.

“It's okay,” Keith emerges into position, eliciting a quiet hiss from Lance as he accidentally moves his hips at the same time. “It was just a joke,” his hand takes the brunette's and raises it to the level of his face, pressing a kiss to it. knuckles, an intimate gesture that causes Lance to melt.

“So…” Not knowing how to begin, he looks away, his cheeks flushing as he tries to find the courage. Finally, he whispers, “Do you—do you want another round?”

Keith's mouth opens in surprise, but before he can respond, his cock, still buried in Lance, gives a small spasm, as if the question has lit a fire that is impossible to contain. “Yes.”

Keith pulled away from Lance abruptly, drawing an unexpected moan from the other. The brunette's rim was overflowing with the whitish liquid he had injected into his, a burning fire ignited in Keith's chest and a sudden urge wanted to reach out his hand to push the semen inside Lance. He shook his head though, snapping out of the involuntary hypnosis the scene had put him under as he thought about that urge again and completely refused to carry it out.

While all of that was going on in Keith's head, Lance decided to move instead to lie face down, placing his arms under his head and tilting his hips up, his knees now shaking against the sheets. He looked over his shoulder at the older man, watching as he was brought out of his reverie by all of Lance's movement.

Keith's stomach sank, swallowing thickly as he looked at the sight of Lance presented before him like on a silver platter. He was about to start praying to whatever God was listening to him, not believing he could have enough self-control to contain himself in the face of the brunette's sensuality, but before this could happen, Lance moved again. His hips, marked by Keith's hands that had been held in place, moved in circling patterns, tempting the other to act accordingly.

Keith didn't pray. Instead, he grabbed his half-erect member, because of the whole scene in front of him that looked like something out of a porn movie, and placed his head between his caramel-colored buttocks. He moved sloppily as he rubbed against them, his hands squeezing both so they made delicious friction against his cock. He slid between both globes until he was fully erect, feeling Lance's gaze on his figure.

Without having any patience, he grabbed the base with his left hand and, with his right hand, moved Lance's buttock to see that hole that was dripping with his cum. Keith's smile widened and his eyes were filled with insatiable desire, hooking the head of his penis on the edge of the brunette, who let out a muffled moan against the pillow.

His hips moved forward slowly, sinking into Lance's heat as his head fell forward, biting his bottom lip to stifle a sudden growl. The thrusts began relentlessly, Keith's hips meeting Lance's ass with a clash of hot skin that echoed through the space of the room. 

Several moans were torn from Lance's throat, who was sobbing with pleasure and arching his back at an angle that caused the elder to sink even deeper inside him. Lance's eyes widened in surprise, his hands balled into fists as he clutched at the blankets and screamed a chorus of moans followed by a “Right—right there!” Ah—! Keith, Keith, it feels so—!” The next words were muffled when a palm slammed against one of his buttocks with a sound that filled his ears.

“How do you say?” Keith mocked with a wicked smile adorning his swollen lips, burying himself to the hilt, as he let out a thick moan. “I couldn't hear you properly.”

Lance groaned in response, burying his head back into the pillows. Keith repeated the movement of his thrusts, withdrawing and pushing deep into the Cuban, feeling the wet walls tighten around his penis, as if they didn't want to let him go. As if they wanted him to stay buried there while he felt the spasms pulling on his penis, Keith thought about it momentarily, he didn't dislike the idea, but he didn't think it was the most ideal.

The thrusts began to gain more and more force and speed, causing a constant sound of skin colliding that filled the room. That sound mixed with Lance's muffled gasps and moans and Keith's suppressed grunts. He leaned forward, kissing the brunette's back, leaving hickeys all the way to his neck, where he began to leave all kinds of marks. 

Keith then moved towards his ears, placing small kisses on the tip of his left ear and whispering words in a soft, breathy tone. “What a good boy you are, aren't you?” , “You take me so well, baby.” , “Squeeze me just like that, ohh.” and “Let out your beautiful voice, darling.” . Then he leaned to the side to continue leaving bites all over his boy's neck, Keith's hair sliding from his forehead to fall against the nape of Lance's neck.

They enjoyed the position as much as they could, but then Keith emerged over Lance's writhing, panting form, and stopped his movements completely, stepping out of the brunette's tantalizing heat. Lance went to see with teary eyes what was happening, peeking over his shoulder, but before he could see anything, Keith flipped him over with inhuman strength (funny, because he was half-Galra, so that strength had some sense). 

Lance screeched a high-pitched sound, which he would totally deny if asked when he was sober from sex, and clung to the older's back as he was pulled firmly against the other warm body, his legs taking up position around his waist. Keith sank back into Lance's hole with a wet sound, causing some moans from both of them, and thrust slowly but deeply, as if he were making love to him.  

Then, without warning, Keith grabbed him by the waist with strong hands and lifted them both off the bed as if he weighed nothing. Lance barely has time to react before his back hits the cold wall. A muffled moan escapes his lips when he feels Keith's strength holding him, his erection rubbing against the older's abs.

It is that force that takes him to the limit. His hips move at a frenetic pace, and the perfect angle makes him tremble. He can't help it. He comes with a piercing moan, his body convulsing in Keith's hands. The other looks at him as if accusing him, but he has an amused, almost mocking smile. “Yeah funny, keep laughing, Keith,” Lance murmurs between moans, a slight tone of feigned annoyance in his voice as he tries to catch his breath.

Keith laughs, his smile turning into something predatory. Without stopping, he picks up the pace, his movements becoming more erratic as he feels his control crumbling. It's close, so close , but he struggles to hold back long enough to pull Lance out before breaking free.

“No… inside” he pleads, his voice broken but firm “I want to feel you.”

That's enough for Keith. A low growl escapes his throat as he sinks deep one last time, filling Lance once more as he marks him with a bite to the neck that's sure to leave clear evidence for the others. The intensity of the moment has Lance dripping the last of his release, his body shaking completely as the pleasure continually consumes him.

They both remain motionless for a few moments, their uncontrolled breathing filling the silence of the room. Keith holds Lance against the wall, still inside him, covering his entrance with his penis so as not to spill and mess anything, while his hot breath mixes with the sweaty skin of Lance's neck.

With a lazy movement, Keith begins to walk towards the bed, holding Lance like it's the most natural thing in the world. He sits on the mattress, settling Lance into his lap, still connected to him. Lance laughs softly, wrapping his arms around Keith's neck as Keith begins to leave hickeys on his already scarred neck.

“How possessive can you be?” he jokes, his smile tender as he strokes the other's black hair.

Keith looks up, his eyes fixing on Lance's with an intensity that makes him shudder. "For you? Too much,” he responds before devouring his mouth in a slow, deep kiss. His hands slide to Lance's hips, pulling him even closer, making Lance gasp as he feels the still-present hardness burying itself deeper into him.

The kiss lengthens, their lips moving in a calm rhythm but full of passion. Between pauses, Keith whispers sweet words against Lance's skin: “You're beautiful… so fucking perfect… I love you so much.”

Lance laughs, but soon his eyes fill with tears that roll down his cheeks. He tries to quickly wipe them away, but Keith stops him, leaning down to kiss the corner of his eyes tenderly.

"What's wrong?" Keith asks in a soft whisper, his tone heavy with concern.

Lance looks at him, his smile trembling as he responds, “I'm happy… very happy.”

Keith hugs him tightly, letting his hands walk his back while both remain in that bubble of intimacy.

So, they passed the time that way before their limbs felt numb and uncomfortable. They both had to separate, even though their bodies didn't want it this way, all for the sake of going to take a hot shower to get the smell of sex off of them. Lance also added that Keith had to take care of him and clean him properly, although Keith threw a tantrum during that part, mumbling something that sounded like he wished he could find a damn plug so the brunette could be filled with his essence. Lance blushed at it and punched him, running on shaky legs towards the bathroom, followed by Keith.

In the bathroom, he turned on the tap so that the water began to heat up little by little. Keith's presence took place behind him, placing his hands on Lance's waist while leaving tender kisses along his shoulders and neck. They both entered the shower this way, letting the water soak them with its comforting warmth. And then, he felt it: a throbbing hardness between his buttocks, which dripped for Keith's seed, although he couldn't complain since he had begged for it.

Lance's eyes suddenly opened, he turned his head to the side, looking into the eyes of the culprit, who had a shy smile adorning his lips “Keith—! That—?! Are you insatiable or what?!” shouts.

“Lance,” he purred, his voice husky as he pulled Lance's hips back, sliding his erection against his ass in a delicious sway of their fur. “Please…” he begged.

“Keith—” he reproached “I—I can't, I'm tired—”

“Just one more time…” he interrupted him, his eyes looking at him insistently and the temptation made him fall towards the edge. Lance's shoulders slumped where they were tense, sighing in resignation. If he had barely been able to get out of bed, now his butt was going to hurt like shit and his legs were going to turn to jelly.

"Alright…"

Keith couldn't help it. 

As the water fell over their bodies, the friction and closeness made their desires grow. Keith's hands explored Lance's skin, tracing invisible paths as their lips met again and again, so hungry for contact they barely stopped to breathe. 

The warm water surrounded them, the sound of the drops creating an even more intimate atmosphere, while their bodies melted into that bubble of love. Seconds seemed like minutes, and when they finally broke apart, they were both breathing heavily, satisfied smiles on their faces. They stayed there, holding each other underwater, enjoying the feeling of closeness and calm after the storm.

Finally, time passed, and they both rinsed themselves completely, letting themselves be enveloped in the sensation of freshness that only hot water could provide. After a quiet moment, Keith lifted Lance into his arms, as gently as if he were a fragile treasure. "Are you going to let me carry you like a princess?" He teased with a mischievous smile, but Lance couldn't help but smile even more, hugging his neck tightly.

With Lance in his arms, Keith walked towards the bathroom door, letting the weight of his lover's body rest on him. Lance, with his arms wrapped around his neck, placed soft kisses on Keith's jaw, feeling how each touch of his lips made him feel even more connected to him. “I love you so much,” he whispered in his ear, his voice full of tenderness. and gratitude.

Keith smiled, eyes closed for a moment, enjoying the softness of those moments and the warmth of his body in his arms. “Me too, more than—I can say with words,” he responded, his tone filled with emotion. In that moment, the worries of the world disappeared, and all that mattered was that hug, those kisses, that connection that only they shared.

They left the bathroom with soft laughter, the towel wrapped around their bodies, and headed to the bedroom, where the softness of the bed awaited them. With every step, Lance kept caressing Keith's jaw and stealing kisses from him, as if he wanted to mark every moment of that moment in his memory. Keith held him tighter, smirking. 

They both got carried away by the moment.

For the love they had, that they had expressed to each other.

For that unique feeling of being complete for each other, of feeling that they both belonged to each other.

After changing, Keith and Lance left the room, walking down the hallway together. Even though the closeness of their bodies had at first been somewhat uncomfortable as they walked because of their position, Lance enjoyed the feeling of Keith's hand on his waist, a gesture that made him feel closer to him, safer. 

Something about that physical connection made him feel complete, like everything was in its place.

When they reached the dining room and realized they weren't there, they headed to the break room, a place where everyone usually went when they weren't busy with homework. Opening the door, they found everyone else sitting in a circle, laughing and playing something, probably an Earth game that Pidge had taught them. The atmosphere was relaxed, full of jokes and laughter.

That's when Shiro saw them. 

His gaze focused on them for a moment, and then everyone else turned to look at them. Keith noticed how the hand that still rested on Lance's waist attracted everyone's gaze and couldn't help but feel a small wave of discomfort as he realized all the attention they had received. Still he didn't pull it back, and Lance, feeling the constant touch, couldn't help but smile, enjoying the contact.

Shiro, with an enigmatic expression, gave a look that Keith couldn't describe. It was a mix of surprise, confusion, and maybe something else, something only he could interpret, but he wasn't sure what. Hunk, who was sitting near Pidge, gave a thumbs up with a wide smile, as if approving of the situation. Pidge, for her part, smiled knowingly from her spot, clearly amused by what had been happening between them.

Allura, always so cheerful, gave them a warm and bright look, as if she was happy to see them well. However, Coran, sitting in the circle, had his mouth open, clearly shocked by what he saw, not knowing what to say. Coran's expression was as comical as it was genuine, as if he was trying to process everything that had just happened without having time to think about it.

The atmosphere was strange but welcoming. No one knew exactly how to react, but everyone, somehow, seemed to understand that something had changed between Keith and Lance. 

The silence that remained in the room after Shiro's look was broken by Pidge, who, with a mischievous smile, broke the ice by saying: “So, did you have a good time?” as she looked at Keith and Lance, who were still a little tense and blushing. 

Lance, upon hearing her, blushed even more, looking at the girl in surprise. “How did you know?” he asked, clearly embarrassed. Collective laughter erupted as everyone turned to Shiro, who looked a little uncomfortable.

Shiro, visibly embarrassed but determined to speak, cleared his throat before telling what happened “Well, when you were already late for lunch, I decided to go look for you... and when I got to Lance's room, I heard... already you know...moans” he paused for a moment, clearly uncomfortable with the situation, but continued “I decided it would be best to leave you alone” he finished quickly, avoiding looking at the others.

Lance, feeling his face burn with shame, hid his face in his palms, almost wanting to disappear. Keith, on the other hand, moved to the side, trying to look away and not make eye contact with anyone. 

But then, Shiro, with a tone that was trying to be more serious, added, “Well, at least you broke the obvious tension between both of you before Lance... you know, died. Now, at least, there will be no regrets.”

These words made both of them even more uncomfortable. Lance, with a red face, began to speak hesitantly, wanting to somehow justify what had happened. “I... I already got what I wanted” he said, almost in a whisper, while his blush deepened even more.

But in that instant, Pidge couldn't contain herself and, with an expression of triumph, she yelled, “I knew it! I knew it, damn it!”

Everyone turned to her, surprised by her reaction. But Shiro, instead of taking it back for the bad word, he stayed silent, looking at Lance and Keith, clearly trying to understand. Finally, after a moment of awkwardness, his words came out with a confused expression. “So fucking Keith was...?”

Lance jumped from his spot, red as a tomato, as he exclaimed, “NO! NO NO NO! IT WAS KEITH, MY GOD!” He laughed nervously, looking at Shiro, and then continued through embarrassed laughter: “Did you really think that?”

Shiro, seeing his reaction, couldn't help but nod slowly, as if everything made sense to him now. “So... is it already resolved?” he asked, still processing what had just happened. Both Paladins nodded, red with shame.

It was at that moment that Shiro, wanting to break the awkward silence again, began to talk about another topic “So, now that we have solved the Hunk thing and…” he looked at the other two Paladins who were still standing at the entrance “Lance and Keith solved their problem, how are we going to solve Pidge's?”

Allura, who had been listening intently, added firmly, “He's right, Pidge. We can't get your family back in just a few days. Is there no other way?”

Pidge laughed from her spot, unable to contain her joy. “You idiots... you are also part of my family” she confessed, somewhat embarrassed but with a knowing smile. At that moment, everyone present looked at her tenderly, and a chorus of ‘aww’ filled the room.

With smiles on their faces, everyone began to approach Pidge, forming a group hug that brought them even closer together. The warmth of the moment, the feeling of being a family, was present in each of them. No one said another word, because they knew they didn't need to say anything. In that moment, everything was clear: they were a family, and nothing would separate them.

And so, between laughter and hugs, that moment was sealed. A united family, with more love than ever, willing to face anything, together

“Wait—” Hunk said “Then we could have solved your problem from the beginning…”

“Hunk,” Pidge said, her words muffled by the hug.

“Yeah?”

“Shaddup”

“Ok…”

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ʚїɞ      fin