[ Every time Haggar and the Druids were poking around in his head, it was like a hot firepoker. It would cauterize some feelings, cut away others and bring some to the front just to pick at them and take them apart for whatever reason. When Zarkon did it, it was to force his will on Shiro, to break him down bit by bit under the assumption Shiro would bend.
Eventually, he did. He knew where and when to fight his battles; he might have this connection to Zarkon but he understood it couldn't be used all the time and he needed to choose where to fight back as a Commander, to maintain his position. They haven't had to in a long time because Shiro understands their games now and it's easier.
Keith in his head isn't like that. It's a warm, soft rush like silk across his mind, the memories he's sharing feeling warm and delicate around the edges, clicking into place like they belong there, like they actually happened. Keith kisses him and then trails kisses down his skin with this single-minded determination, while he shares memories with him. It's overwhelming - it's not just the sight, like a movie playing, it's all the smells and tastes and feelings that came with it, just from Keith's perspective. There's none of Zarkon or Haggar's bitterness or hatred showing through, it's softer like a reward instead of punishment.
It's in sharp contrast to the blazing heat of Lance's mouth on his dick, sliding down over it like he's genuinely hungry for it, and then he feels the cool tingle of Lance pushing images into the link as well. He's so used to bringing the wall up because it hurts, because it's overwhelming and he needs space so he doesn't crumble but he's not used to this.
To wanting to immerse himself in it, in the both of them. For a long moment - for the first time in a long while, he starts to doubt Zarkon. Starts to believe them - or at least to wonder at it. He cups the back of Lance's head to guide him while he explores the fat swell of his dick, and uses his other to trace over Keith's body. Nothing's surprised him so far - he recognizes that scar, gets a flicker of memory before it vanishes. Recognizes the dip of his collarbone and the jut of his hips as places he's spent time worshiping, leaving marks to be hidden just barely by their uniforms.
For a moment, unbidden, he gets an image of himself mouthing at marks he's left along Keith's throat while he dresses him in his Voltron armor, the process taking four times longer than it needs to. It's abruptly followed by a swell of warmth and affection for Lance, remembering the nights they got to spend watching movies, Shiro letting him pile pillows on his lap, idly stroking a hand through his hair.
That's not a memory that Zarkon would have - he wouldn't give it to him, either. Haggar wouldn't touch such weakness with a ten foot pole. ]
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Eventually, he did. He knew where and when to fight his battles; he might have this connection to Zarkon but he understood it couldn't be used all the time and he needed to choose where to fight back as a Commander, to maintain his position. They haven't had to in a long time because Shiro understands their games now and it's easier.
Keith in his head isn't like that. It's a warm, soft rush like silk across his mind, the memories he's sharing feeling warm and delicate around the edges, clicking into place like they belong there, like they actually happened. Keith kisses him and then trails kisses down his skin with this single-minded determination, while he shares memories with him. It's overwhelming - it's not just the sight, like a movie playing, it's all the smells and tastes and feelings that came with it, just from Keith's perspective. There's none of Zarkon or Haggar's bitterness or hatred showing through, it's softer like a reward instead of punishment.
It's in sharp contrast to the blazing heat of Lance's mouth on his dick, sliding down over it like he's genuinely hungry for it, and then he feels the cool tingle of Lance pushing images into the link as well. He's so used to bringing the wall up because it hurts, because it's overwhelming and he needs space so he doesn't crumble but he's not used to this.
To wanting to immerse himself in it, in the both of them. For a long moment - for the first time in a long while, he starts to doubt Zarkon. Starts to believe them - or at least to wonder at it. He cups the back of Lance's head to guide him while he explores the fat swell of his dick, and uses his other to trace over Keith's body. Nothing's surprised him so far - he recognizes that scar, gets a flicker of memory before it vanishes. Recognizes the dip of his collarbone and the jut of his hips as places he's spent time worshiping, leaving marks to be hidden just barely by their uniforms.
For a moment, unbidden, he gets an image of himself mouthing at marks he's left along Keith's throat while he dresses him in his Voltron armor, the process taking four times longer than it needs to. It's abruptly followed by a swell of warmth and affection for Lance, remembering the nights they got to spend watching movies, Shiro letting him pile pillows on his lap, idly stroking a hand through his hair.
That's not a memory that Zarkon would have - he wouldn't give it to him, either. Haggar wouldn't touch such weakness with a ten foot pole. ]
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