dappered | (no subject)

(no subject)

[ the thing is, he's not mad at shiro. maybe he should be, but he's not, because he understands that going from ace pilot with promising space exploration career to prisoner of war to leader of a ten thousand year old resistance faction doesn't leave a lot of room for the smaller, interpersonal problems. pidge is the one with a real cause for a grudge, anyway, and shiro is so painfully, obviously, trying his best to be the leader they need. he doesn't deserve keith hunting him down in the middle of the night to talk about the fact that they had toed the fraternization line uncomfortably close during keith's academy days, and then he thought shiro was dead, and then he started getting weird fucking dreams about alien energies and maybe shiro not being dead, and then... everything else.

shiro is treating him like one of the guys and he understands why. it's easier that way. it's been years and they're both different people now, except keith still has those same dreams--not the ones that left him awake in the dark and sure that shiro was alive, sure that he was breathing somewhere, alone, needing, and so helpless that it hurt to breathe. no, these are the old academy standby, thinking of shiro leaning in close, shiro taking off his shirt for training, shiro finally turning around and seeing him looking. the kind of stupid fantasies that left him hard and wanting when he woke, frantically jerking off just so he could get up and function around shiro without popping wood.

(he still has the dreams about shiro being alone somewhere, every now and then. he gets up and paces down the hallways and brushes his hand over shiro's door, but he never hits the comm button. they have each other now, or something, he tells himself. the dreams are clearly some kind of influence from the lions, and they're all together now.)

anyway he has shiro back and there's still a fucking glass wall between them. no unnecessary touches. no late nights together in one of their rooms, even though all they had ever done was talk. it's frustrating as fuck and he gets it and he's trying really hard to be fucking understanding, trying not to push. allura had said that they might notice some influences from the lions, now that they'd all established a bond, that they might be more sensitive to each other, but keith doesn't feel sensitive so much as scraped raw, holding everything back. he wants to hit something all the time. he snaps at lance and flings himself into battle when he has the chance and he thinks sometimes he can feel shiro through that link they're all supposed to have, that hint of quiet strength coupled with some sort of strapped down emotion-- loneliness? pain? --but then it's gone and he's left wondering whether he imagined it in the first place.

they'd been encouraged to go and spend time with their lions to strengthen their mystic bonds or whatever, but here keith is guiltily fucking sneaking around the wrong hangar, running his hand carefully over the black lion's sleek metal skin. that tiny little place in the back of his head where his weird impulses and gut feelings come from isn't telling him that he's unwelcome, but he knows that this is kind of suspicious. ]

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

[ shit finally hits the fan less than a week later-- they're all stuck on an alien planet on an alien ship without any supply of suppressants. pidge had dedicated herself so thoroughly to her cover story of a male beta that she'd gotten the implant that all but erased her scent and sex drive, so it didn't matter that she turned out to be a female alpha, but keith and lance and hunk still have their own cycles to worry about. coran promises that the atlean medical bay can probably eventually synthesize something useful that is safe for human biology, but for the moment all they've got is "standard" altean supplements in their food goo acting as a sort of all-purpose birth control and vaccines against alien diseases. it won't suppress heats or ruts.

granted, the castle of lions is pretty fuckhuge if one of them really needs absolute isolation, but separation puts a bad taste in lance's mouth for reasons he's not willing to examine too closely. he knows he's not due for his cycle just yet, so he doesn't know why he's been so restless the past couple of days, prowling around after-hours and seeking out company and then getting irritable with them and stalking back off again. keith's off on a mission to the local village and isn't supposed to be back for a few days, and it annoys him that maybe the absence of keith's scent is causing the unrest. he's more worried about the effect of keith's absence on shiro even if he'd never admit it out loud. shiro's been everything like a perfect alpha so far: strong, focused, inspiring, and infinitely patient. he hasn't once snapped at lance or hunk for not being good enough, nor has he tried to force them all into a close pack relationship by aggression and intimidation the way some alphas did. shiro only ever did the right thing for them and never thought of himself.

apparently literally, because after lance can't find him in the ship for a solid ten hours he follows the hint of a strangely sweet, burnt sugar smell to an unused room and nearly passes out from the strength of it when the door opens for him and the scent washes over him like a wave. ]

Jesus christ-- Shiro?

[ In retrospect, he should have known. Nothing was ever easy and with this - with heats, with ruts, it was a thousand times harder. Add in the fact that he can't remember the last time he went into rut and doesn't know what the Galra did to him and it's enough to make his stomach twist anxiously.

Something's off. He doesn't know what it is yet or know why he is thinking it, but he can just...tell. There's something off and it's an itch under his skin that he's not able to scratch, something driving him without rhyme or reason, something he can't explain. Maybe it's just his head but he doesn't think it is. He knows better than that and knows to trust his own instincts.

He figures it out halfway through lunch, the twist in his gut, the way his eyes track every single person in the room and the way he wants to scent them, to come in close and just be involved with everything they're doing. It's not the same possessiveness that sometimes comes with a rut that's been prolonged, but something else. He doesn't bother to think about it; Coran and Allura are warned while he locks himself down in his rooms and then realizes the flaw in that plan. People will find him there - he needs to figure this out before they do.

Instead, he takes essentials to a spare room and hunkers down. The heat curling in his belly isn't a rut, he knows that, but it feels similar enough that it's frustrating. The need is still there, the heat, the intensity of everything from the sheets against his skin to the clothes he's wearing, but it's -- not.

He'll need to tell the others to avoid him til this passes. It won't be long, and there's no emergencies - if there are, he'll get it together, figure it out. Of course, of course it's not that easy. The door opens in a rush and Shiro jerks up, pupils huge despite the influx of light. ]

I'm fine. I'm fine, you should go--

[ holy shit. that's definitely shiro, and that's definitely shiro in the grip of-- rut? except it doesn't smell like a rut, it smells cloying and sweet and enticing in the opposite direction.

it smells like a heat. it really smells like a heat, like an omega heat, and it jerks him forward like someone had just yanked him on a leash, involuntarily taking a step forward into the doorway. he can feel his heart-rate immediately double, eyes going wide and dragging in a deep, dizzying breath. shiro smells stressed and anxious and amazing, and lance just wants to get closer and bury his face against his skin.

he shakes his head sharply to dispel it. he's not an alpha to go into a lust-drunk stupor at the first scent of an omega, and shiro isn't an omega. this isn't right. he swallows hard. ]

You don't smell fine. You-- is this why you sent Keith off on that mission?

[ and then immediately he's annoyed at Not Being Included, imagining that everybody else had been told, had been treated like pack, while shiro kept lance on the outside for some reason. shiro should have stayed in his own quarters, or picked out some kind of familiar, calming setting, and he should have someone with him to bring him water and food and-- and anything else he needed, he didn't have to run off and hide like this.

beta instincts. he wants to help, he wants to provide support. an alpha would want to possess and defend, an omega would want to submit and be taken care of. betas didn't bite or grab according to instinct, they attended.

if another compatible alpha walked in right now and the omega (shiro, but shiro's not an omega, what the hell) accepted them, a beta like lance would willingly service them both. normally the thought bothered him, but right now he can't believe shiro would just slink away from all of them and endanger himself by trying to ride out his cycle alone. ]

Jesus, Shiro, you can't just lock yourself up for this! You'll get heat sickness!

[ Lance needs to be somewhere - anywhere else right now. He can't -- he can't be here, not when Shiro isn't certain he can control himself, not on the first day and not after having next to nothing for so long. Between the military and being captive, it's no wonder he's out of sync but the worst part is that he doesn't know what's wrong.

It doesn't feel like a rut, which is concerning all on its own but the fact that it feels like what he imagines a heat feels like is even worse. He's not an omega, he hasn't ever been one. ]

It doesn't matter.

[ Yes goes unsaid. Shiro grips the door tighter, trying to use that to ground himself and then hears the metal screech as his fingers compress it, leaving visible finger dents in it from his metal hand. Horrified, he jerks back into the room and God, he can smell himself. It smells like a heat, but it's wrongwrongwrong. ]

It can't be - I won't get heat sickness.

[ If he says it enough times, maybe he'll start to believe it. Shiro shudders out a breath, all too aware that Lance isn't leaving, he isn't stepping out and closing the door, he's just standing there and Shiro--

Shiro can't stop himself, coming in close, pressing his face into the crook of Lance's neck and inhaling, hands clenching tight on his hips to hold him there. He smells like home, like pack and it's overwhelming. ]

[ his instincts know how to react to that, even as lance's brain chooses to go offline at the abrupt, overwhelming reality of his personal hero wrapping him up in his arms, burying his face against his skin and pressing their bodies together. the scent that floods over him, the hormones instantly triggered by the touch of shiro's feverish skin prompt him to pull shiro in, a hand on the nape of his neck and another on the small of his back. shiro's hard against him and lance shivers, making some kind of humiliating squeak. he's never been with anybody in the throes of their cycle, he's never had anyone react to him like this, so it's all eager, teenage clumsiness when he straddles shiro's thigh on automatic pilot and dips his head to try and find his mouth for a gasping, clumsy kiss. he can't give an omega the knot they crave or the higher chance of successful impregnation that alphas are famous for, but betas were biologically designed to serve a pack's dominant breeding pair and care for vulnerable, pregnant omegas. shiro had no alpha, so lance would have to stand in and keep him satisfied, keep him from getting sick from the ravages of his heat.

in the back of his head there's a distress that keith should be here, keith should be with them as the pack's only viable alpha, that lance is only ever a stand-in. but he's here and keith isn't. he has to give shiro what he needs. he has to take care of him. omegas are rare and valuable and dangerous, shiro's hand had crushed that spot on the doorframe and lance still wants it on his skin, touching his aching cock, maybe spreading the slick around his hole. he wants whatever shiro will give him, alpha or omega or whatever he is now with that hint of wrongness to his scent, he wants to put his mouth on shiro's dick, he wants shiro to turn around and get on the bed and present to him on hands and knees for mounting, he wants shiro to press him down on the bed and come inside him and keep coming until his stomach is swollen with seed, until there's a baby growing in him.

shiro's fever seems infectious. lance can feel the heat on his own cheeks, the stark contrast between the cool air at his back and the heat where their bodies touch, even though their clothes. the fact that he ought to be trying to get shiro to medical, or alert the others, falls by the wayside. shiro's tongue is supposed to be in his mouth and it's not. they should be skin to skin and they're not. his fingers dig in, gripping shiro tightly. ]

You're--

[ words are hard. he stumbles, his mouth still mashed against whatever bit of shiro's face he can reach. ]

Heat, this is-- you have to. [ hold still while lance rides his thigh, apparently. ] You have to let me help you, oh god, please let me, please Shiro please let me--

[ In this moment, he doesn't necessarily crave an alpha, he just wants -- something. Anything, because it's been too long and he should have known better than to just assume that it wouldn't pop up right at the time most inconvenient for all of them. He needs to lead the team - needs to fight the Galra and he can't, not like this. It's unlikely they'll attack after being so soundly defeated before but that doesn't mean it's not in the back of his head, an awful consistent presence that he can't shake. They're going to come for them sooner or later and it's Shiro's job as leader to make sure they're ready.

Nothing really matters right then, though. Not the Galra, not the fact that Keith is gone, nothing but the fact that Lance is there and he smells like he's ready, like he wants it.

Shiro breathes out a groan, the tail end of it fluttering away into a tremble that shakes his whole body because despite everything he can smell Lance's want for him. There's no mistaking it for anything else than what it is and he thinks he ought to be concerned about it but mostly it's just this awful, aching want that doesn't feel anything like a rut. Whatever the Galra did to him fucked everything up, biologically, physically. It didn't matter. ]

No. No, no, shit. [ He has to think, has to get his mind unfogged. Gently, he pries Lance away from him and every inch of him protests it because there's a beta ready and willing for him. Instead, he forces himself back and presses a hand to the curve of Lance's cheek and kisses him, long and wet and filthy. When he draws back, his head isn't any more clear but his resolve is. ] Two hours. Come down from -- this. Message me on the comms if you still - want it.

[ And before Lance can reply, Shiro's bodily moving him out of the door, depositing him and sweeping back in. It locks solidly behind him. ]

[ WOW WHAT THE HELL. he's too stunned from the kiss to register what's happening, but suddenly he's back out in the hallway staring at a locked door, panting, a raging hard on tenting his pants and no shiro.

then he spends a good five minutes exploding in protest, yelling at the door and at shiro. at first he's desperate to be let back in but slowly, as the cooler air of the hallway sweeps away the heat scent that had been driving him wild, he falls back into irritation, fuming. shiro can't push teamwork on them all constantly and then pull back and isolate himself during an emergency like this-- and fucking great, lance is definitely in the first stages of his own triggered heat. he's hard and wet both, his hole twitching hungrily for something to fill it, and the brush of fabric against his straining dick makes him hiss with every motion as he stalks back to his own room to fucking pack the basic fucking things that anyone needs in a heat or rut. water, rations, lube. towels. a ton of extra sheets. some extra clothes from shiro's room, soft altean robe things perfect for easy access and tossing aside.

it's better to focus on being mad. if he stops being mad he'll start focusing on the physical reality of shiro rejecting him, even temporarily. lance could run off in the blue lion and try to go find keith and not come back to the castle until shiro's heat was completely over, but it won't change the fact that lance's body had latched onto shiro. this is going to keep happening, would maybe keep happening even if he and shiro both went on a million suppressants right now. there's just not enough people around for lance to get fixated on someone else, breaking his imprint on shiro-- unless keith went into rut.

which is not really a better option.

he messages hunk and pidge (angrily) and tells them he's got stuff to do for probably the next twenty-four hours and nobody should bother him etc. he shuts off the comm frequency while they explode into questions, counting on them to figure it the fuck out and also inform allura and coran (or keep allura and coran away). hopefully there won't be any galra attacks or other emergencies because nobody's going to be forming voltron with shiro in this state. he also throws himself in the shower and scrubs every fucking inch, jacks off furiously to try and get his dick to behave (it doesn't) and fingers himself to two trembling orgasms, braced against the shower wall with a forearm and angrily wishing for shiro.

then it's two hours gone by. his hair is still damp, dressed in a short altean robe that only hangs to mid-thigh, looking suspiciously like a silky dressing gown. the long shower would've helped dispel some of his needy scent, but he's still sporting a semi under the silky fabric, lifting it obscenely and obviously, and... well, he's not wearing anything underneath the robe. shiro will be able to smell how wet he is.

lance shoulders his pack of supplies and keys in the code to message just that room. ]

I'm coming over. [ he can hear the mulish stubbornness in his own voice. ] So you'd better open the door, okay, or I'll ask Allura to override all the locks.

[ You did the right thing he tells himself, trembling as he listens to Lance protest on the other side of the door. It would be so, so easy to just unlock it. He could let Lance in, could get his mouth and hands all over him and some of the heat would finally subside and he could think straight.

It's not that easy, though. The last thing he wants to do is use Lance like that, or to make him uncomfortable and he needs him thinking straight before he ever even brings up the idea of him helping Shiro like this.

Two hours.

It seems like a short amount of time, but Shiro spends it curled in the blankets, furiously resisting the urge to touch himself. He knows how to handle heats; knows he's going to need to ask for water and food. Knows how to drag orgasms out of himself slowly, two fingers curved inside himself, other hand on his cock. The only difference is where it was something pleasant before, now, it's like he needs it. He's soaked, just like an omega, rutting helplessly against his fingers and into his hand, torn between the two. He's been with a few omegas before, knows the signs and knows he's exhibiting them. The problem is that it still feels like a rut.

The loss of Lance is all too distracting; he counts down the minutes until he gets an answer, wringing a few orgasms out of himself and sitting in the coldest shower he can manage, panting as he recovers from it. When Lance finally knocks, Shiro's sitting on the bed, tense and staring at a book he's clearly trying and failing to read. ]

It's -- fine, come in.

[ It's not fine, none of this is fine, not when the door opens and Shiro instantly smells how wet he is. There's too much sensory input from the silky robe he's wrapped in to the scent of Lance wet and the front of the material clearly outlining his cock. Shiro's mouth waters and it takes every inch of control to stay seated on the bed. ]

You don't know what you're getting into, Lance. I don't, even. It feels like -- both and it shouldn't feel like both.

I know. [ some of his bravado fails at the sheer rush of scent that comes flooding out of the room again, even though he'd braced himself for it. he bites his lip, fighting not to tug the robe down lower-- or hitch it higher-- and stands just inside the doorway, etiquette drilled into him not to invade a space being used for nesting. he can't just barge in and crowd shiro like an overeager puppy. ]

You smell like both, somehow? Maybe it's something to do with you being a prisoner for so long? [ that's flimsy even to lance's ears, but he's grasping at straws to try and sound reassuring. the fact of the matter is that he doesn't care. he should because it's terrifying and strange and impossible for someone to switch their designation, but he really doesn't give a shit about the mechanics, all he wants is to make shiro feel better and get him out of danger of heat sickness.

he squares his shoulders unconsciously, and then dumps the pack on the ground and rummages around for a water bottle, tossing it unceremoniously to shiro.

stubbornly, ]

Whatever's going on, you can't do this alone. I'm a beta, I'm supposed to be able to handle both, so it's fine. I can do this. [ faltering, ] I-- I want to do this. You can knot me, or if you need me to-- act like an alpha, I can do that, I'll do whatever you need.

[ he just hopes he sounds confident and self-assured, like he's done this a million times, even though he knows damn good and well that shiro can probably smell his nervousness. he's done questionable teenage shit, he's bossed alphas and omegas into taking care of themselves during their cycles without actually joining in their sexytime, but all of that seems incredibly juvenile and irrelevant next to a real imprint on an adult alpha. he's never had an alpha knot him and he's never had to satisfy an omega's insatiable appetite by himself. if he can't take the knot shiro might accidentally hurt him, or if he doesn't have enough alpha stamina to keep up with an omega's needs shiro might fall into the delerium of heat sickness. ]

[ He has to trust that Lance knows what he's doing here, because Shiro instantly feels like he sure as hell doesn't. He's caught between two instincts, and while he knows that he's got a beta here and some part of him is mollified, it's -- it's still Lance. The last thing he wants to do is for this to come off as if he's just using Lance for this and is then going to discard him or be strange around him afterward.

They'd have to talk, of course, but they'd dealt with worse. ] I don't know, Lance. [ Shiro catches the bottle of water and stands there, just a few feet away, trembling with the urge to get over there and press himself against every inch of Lance's skin. He knows it's coming eventually. Between Lance's skimpy robe and Shiro's boxers and tank top, they're both not wearing much and both sides of him are happy for that. ]

I don't even know what I need.

[ This isn't exactly an experience he's familiar with here. He feels himself get slicker at the idea of both - at knotting Lance, but also at the idea of him taking control from Shiro for a little while, so everything didn't rest on him for just a little while. It doesn't matter, is what it boils down to. Shiro uncaps the bottle and takes a long drink, drains half of it and then caps it and settles it near the bed. He's nearly shaking with holding back from touching him, but every move is deliberate, intentional. Whatever the Galra did to him, he's not going to lose control. He's better than that.

Each step feels like it takes a thousand years to complete, but soon enough he's got Lance nudged up against the wall and has a hand cupping his face and the other at his waist. He angles Lance in for a kiss and nudges Lance's hips up just so, giving him a slight boost so their cocks graze against each other and Shiro can push a thigh between his legs. It takes two tries between long, filthy kisses, but he manages: ] We won't do anything that you don't want.

[ they've already flown through a wormhole to the far ends of the universe and spend their time fighting aliens in magic space lion robots. this isn't nearly as unknown and scary. maybe it should be? maybe it should be terrifying that there's something wrong with shiro's body, that it could be infectious, that it could be deliberate. what would another alpha have done, presented with an alpha that mimicked an omega? rejected him, gotten into a fight, tried to dominate him like a regular omega? even an older, more experienced beta might have balked at getting into something so out of the ordinary.

fortunately, no one has ever accused lance of being too cautious or unwilling to take risks. he can feel the way shiro is holding himself back, and also that the dam is about to break at any second. ]

You need me, [ he insists in a burst of daring, and then he's being carefully backed against the wall and oh, the heat of shiro's hand on his skin is ridiculous for how it makes his pulse speed up, his eyes going helplessly wide and then sliding shut to better concentrate on the feeling. a two hour absence has only made the strangeness of shiro's scent more prominent, unsettling, but he wants it anyway. he throws his arms clumsily around shiro's neck, hanging off him, panting into their kiss and letting shiro do whatever the hell he wants to position him, happy to spread his legs.

by the time shiro speaks again his eyes are glazed, lips still parted, and there's a slowly growing damp spot on the front of his robe where his cock is rubbing deliciously against shiro's, hard and hot behind the layer of silk. he barely hears what shiro's saying, and anyway the thought of anything lance doesn't want is ridiculous. ]

Take this off, [ he mumbles, tugging at the hem of shiro's tanktop. ] That's what I want. I wanna-- I wanna feel you, I wanna touch you.

[ He can't stop the way his mind seems to fog the more attention he gets from Lance, the more he touches him in return. He refuses to lose control entirely but there's no stopping the way he grinds their bodies together and has to force himself to stop and listen to Lance when he gives the other instructions.

His hands cross over his waist and he hooks his fingers in the material, tugging up and over his head and tossing it off to the side. He'll have to get it later, and normally, he takes the time to take it off and fold it to put back on again if it's the same night. That he's not bothering to fold it, but simply toss it on the ground is one of the few signs that he's not quite as controlled as he'd like to be. ]

I do. [ There's no doubt to his tone; they both know what the truth is and right now Shiro doesn't have it in him to argue the fact of it. He likely wouldn't die but it wouldn't be comfortable going through whatever this was alone. He did need Lance and it was only more obvious when he slips his hands underneath Lance's thin robe and is able to run his fingers along bare skin.

The noise he makes is somewhere between appreciation and contentment, rough hands skimming over the warm skin of his chest, up over his nipples and then back down again. Lance is saying he wants to touch him like there's any way Shiro would say no right now. He huffs out a laugh and smears a kiss against Lance's throat, rolling their hips together in slow, shallow pushes with each roll of his feet. There's no point in hiding it and Lance is so talkative that Shiro figures Lance doesn't mind hearing confirmation back: ] I want you to. Please.

[ this is it, this is how lance dies. takashi shirogane running big, possessive hands up his chest, making his nipples peak instantly, saying that he needs lance, saying that he wants lance to touch him--

and then shiro's tanktop is gone and there are muscles for days and also scars and twin flashes of metal that make his cock jump against shiro's and his eyes go wide as saucers. his hands are there immediately, sort of reverently framing shiro's pecs as he stares at the heavy silver rings strung through each nipple.

he immediately wants them in his mouth. his lips actually part just thinking of it, and he swallows hard, dragging his eyes back to shiro's with a hungry, yearning look on his face. ]

Do they hurt? Can I touch them? I didn't know you had anything like this, they're so--

[ he trails off, getting mesmerized just looking at them again, and he doesn't seem to realize that he's just standing there cupping and kneading shiro's chest reflexively, staring at his piercings like a naive virgin. ]

[ He can't say he'd forgotten about them, but it's the nearest word for the truth that he's got. He was aware of them but didn't do much with them, not after everything. They could have been taken out, he supposes, but just like the arm, he hasn't really looked into doing anything about it past living with what marks they left.

At least Lance doesn't look horrified. No, instead he looks more like he's been presented with a present so large he's not sure where to start unwrapping first. That's -- better than what he expected, he'll take that. ]

They don't hurt. They're - yes, you can touch. [ It's hell on earth to try and finish a sentence with anything close to coherency. Shiro sucks in a breath when Lance's hands skim over his chest, every little point of contact feeling like it was too much, like he was going to be overwhelmed by it. ] Do something.

[ The standing and staring is good but Shiro can't kiss him while he's doing that and he's about three seconds from picking him up and dumping him in the bed so he can get closer and press himself against every inch of Lance, preferably with no clothes. ]

[ look don't expect him to have high standards here!! he is just. very excited about seeing his very first nipple piercings up close and personal, which is why the first thing he does, spurred by the desperation in shiro's voice and the slowly deepening stupid-lust taking over his brain, is to immediately duck his head and put his mouth all over one, licking and nibbling curiously. the contrast of the metal with the taste of shiro's skin is fascinating, and he wants-- he wants more than just this, he wants to lick shiro everywhere, he wants to press his face in against the places that smell delicious and are begging to be tasted. his lips close over the peak of the nipple and he sucks delightedly, something like a purr rising in his throat and forgetting to be nervous or self-conscious about what he's doing. ]

[ Nope, nevermind. Picking him up is a better option because it allows him the ability to grab Lance and dump him back onto the bed, thank you very much. Shiro hefts him up with both hands under Lance's ass, dislodging him temporarily. The door is shut and locked and that's about all he cares about right now, carrying him over to the bed, sitting down and scooting back with a lap full of Lance. It's not the most graceful of movements but he manages to get his back braced against the wall and pushes a hand through Lance's hair to bring him back.

Once, he'd hated them, hated how sensitive they were, hated that they could get such a reaction out of him. Now, Shiro arches his back and tilts his hips up, squirming helplessly at the potential for Lance to put his mouth back on them. ]

[ WOW OK ok he's fine, he's cool, he's definitely not making embarrassing squeaking noises and clutching shiro's shoulders as he's moved. he is bright fucking red by the time they're back on the bed together, because now he's in shiro's lap with his short robe rucked up even higher on his thighs and shiro will be able to feel that he's wet enough to leave a damp spot soaked into shiro's boxers. lance can feel just how huge and rigid shiro's cock is underneath him too. it feels impossibly larger than his own.

that's going to be inside him before they're done here. the thought keeps sparking and fizzing in his brain, equal parts giddy and terrified. he grinds down against it in a sort of helpless panic, enough to feel the head of it catch against him and god, he's getting shiro's dick wet right through the fabric of the boxers, he's making a mess all over him and he can't stop himself. the beta in him still wants to take care of shiro and make sure that he has everything he needs to get through this heat, but the reality of that is probably going to be lance with his face shoved in the mattress and his ass in the air and shiro behind him, driving into him mercilessly.

better not to dwell on that, though, he also figures by the time it happens he'll probably be sobbing for it the way all the betas and omegas in trashy videos do. alphas like that, apparently, and shiro's still an alpha even if he's having a weird time right now. he shivers at the hand in his hair, by how much sheer fucking space on lance's skull that palm covers, and bends down to latch onto the other nipple, this time sucking much harder in response to his own nerves. ]

[ He wants to say that he maintains his cool during this, that he's able to keep his thoughts together, to plan this out but he knows that's both not possible and ridiculous all in one. Normally during a heat or a rut, it's impossible to keep thoughts straight; during one that's been delayed so long, he knows it'll be next to impossible.

It feels impossible the moment he catches the scent of Lance when that ridiculous robe shifts; he can feel the spot of wetness on his boxers, knows that he's just as slick from the idea of it, from the idea of Lance being there. Shiro buries his face in the curve of Lance's neck and grips at him tight enough he fears he'll leave bruises but can't stop himself, panting and shaking and rocking up against the thick line of Lance's dick pressed tight against him. ]

Lance, I can't, I'm- [ Oh god he really doesn't want to get come all over the insides of his boxers but Lance puts his mouth down against his nipple again and there's a touch of teeth in addition to the wet-hot warmth and that's it. Shiro tenses and whines quietly in the back of his throat, hips jerking in sharp, uneven movements, pulsing wet into the material of his boxers. It's not enough and he knows that; there's that horrible, empty feeling that he's never had before in addition to the normal rut where he wants to be inside something, someone but the orgasm helps, at least a little. Gives him enough sense that he can drop both hands down from Lance's hips to his ass and squeeze, directing him to roll his hips against the fat swell of his own cock, sliding slickly between the come and everything else. ]

Oh fuck, fuck. [ he can smell it the second shiro comes as much as he can feel it, sudden warm wetness flooding the thin cotton between them. his mouth pops off shiro's nipple, grinding down into the wet mess and into shiro's grip on his ass, and he has to swallow a sudden rush of saliva as he realizes what he's supposed to do next. he backs out of shiro's hands and drops his face to the obscene outlined bulge of shiro's cock like he's being pulled down to it by a leash, nosing and mouthing almost frantically at it, tongue darting out to press against the wet cotton. the scent of it is overwhelming at close range and he looks up imploringly at shiro, panting and eager and flushed but either unwilling or unable to work the complicated machinery of pulling down a waistband. he wants shiro's hands in his hair again, he wants shiro to feed him his cock, he wants to lick and nurse until all that seed goes where it's meant to, inside lance. ]

[ It's too fucking much and he can't handle it. Shiro sinks back against the bed, limp for a moment as he tries to process everything. A rut's overwhelming on its own but combined with a heat and the fact that it's been ages since he's had it and hasn't slept with anyone recently -- it's too much.

He has to take time to catch his breath and then just like that it's gone again because Lance has somehow slithered down and has his mouth pressed against the firm line of his dick through his boxers. Any other time, it'd be too much, he'd need time to recover but right now he pushes his hips up eagerly and lets out a soft breath, hooking a his human hand in Lance's hair while his other starts shoving down his boxers.

It takes some creative wiggling with Lance right there, but he manages to get them off mostly, onto one leg, hanging off his ankle. His dick is wet with precome and come and it's messy, but he doesn't think he or Lance are in the right mind to actively give a shit right now. ]

[ lance certainly isn't, as all possible intelligent thought has gone out the window at first actual taste of shiro on his tongue. pheromones are a big part of cycles, obviously, but fluid exchange seals the deal. if lance and shiro were incompatible they would find each other's scent off-putting and taste intolerable, but shiro tastes perfect to him, something he wants to lap up like a cat given a dish of cream. he nuzzles against shiro's slightly softened dick affectionately and licks over it with the flat of his tongue, cleaning up the mess and nibbling at the piercings. he'd be embarrassed about his own enthusiasm if he were thinking straight, as this isn't how anyone gives a blowjob (also, he'd be boggling at the sheer amount of metal there seems to be in shiro's dick), but all he can focus on is the clean, sharp taste of shiro's healthy and fertile seed. whatever weirdness is in his scent either hasn't carried over into the taste of his come or lance is too gone to sense it.

once shiro has been licked clean lance is free to focus on the fat droplets still oozing from his slit, and he suckles the head gently, eyes half-closed and a contented noise rumbling up through his chest and vibrating through his throat. his hips are rocking absently against the bed, rubbing himself into the sheets. ]

Give me -- just, shit, Lance, please, give me a second.

[ A second, a tick, something. Blindly, he gropes out, palming a hand through Lance's hair and misses the first two times. Coordination is out the window as he lies there, panting in the aftermath of his orgasm, but he's still hard. This, at least, isn't different than normal; he remembers this part. What's new is the scent of Lance, heady and overwhelming in the air.

His hand catches, finally, finding the back of Lance's head while he licks idly at the mess and cleans him up and then draws flat, bunching in his hair and fisting, tugging him back firmly but not harshly. He can feel his own slick on the insides of his thighs, wetting the blankets beneath him but it's the alpha part of him that wants to satisfy Lance, wants to stop him from grinding aimlessly against the covers when it's his job to make sure that he's satisfied during this. ]

Come here--

[ Moving is a chore but he manages to get himself out from under Lance and then they're both kneeling and Shiro pauses a moment, using that fist in his hair to tug his head back and kiss him, licking the taste of himself out of Lance's mouth. When he's done and has to catch his breath, he draws back, nodding toward the pillows. ]

I want - let me--

[ Shiro stops, endlessly frustrated with himself, pressing his face into the curve of Lance's shoulder, his scent grounding him. He's got a beta here, there's no rush, no one else is here.

His human hand drops down, curls loose around Lance's dick and then gradually tightens in a slow stroke but even with precome it's too dry to be comfortable, he's sure. His hand drops away and when it comes back, it's slick from himself and he angles him into another kiss while his hand circles around it again, tugging in slow, smooth pulls. ]

[ lance makes a whine of protest when he's dragged away from shiro's dick, not understanding for a moment-- is he doing it wrong? does shiro not want him? he'd heard about-- had been warned about-- alphas who didn't like doing anything that wasn't shoving their cock into a wet hole and knotting it, focused entirely on breeding. there were alphas who didn't believe in kissing. shiro had never seemed like that type, but people were different during their ruts or heats, and lance has the hysterical thought all of a sudden that he doesn't care, he'd want whatever shiro wanted, it didn't matter if he was never kissed if that was what made his alpha happy...

but then he is being kissed, aggressively and thoroughly, and it's like taking a breath of air after being underwater. of course shiro isn't like that, and lance can't let him be like that, and lance can't lose himself here. shiro is depending on him. he swallows shakily, blinking. ]

S-sorry, I didn't, I haven't--

[ done this before. no, he probably shouldn't say that out loud. he shuts his mouth on the words and quickly moves into the position shiro is asking for, breathing deeply and trying to think calming thoughts. shiro's naked and lance decides it's high time to join him, stripping off the flimsy robe and tossing it away somewhere, leaving his (regular, ordinary, non-pierced) cock hard and wet between his thighs. if he were less worked up he'd be embarrassed about it, but it's honestly a secondary concern right now when shiro drops his head to lance's shoulder, and it seems natural to wind his arms around shiro's broad shoulders. he sets his jaw where shiro can't see it and tightens the embrace. ]

Anything you want. I've got you, alright, everything's okay-- oh, oh fuck, Shiro...

[ now he's not so much comforting as clinging to shiro's shoulders, breath shuddering in and out of his lungs in time with every slow tug on his cock. ]

Oh shit, oh shit, I'm, I'm gonna-- mmm. [ the kiss swallows the sounds he's making, the warning he's trying to give, and it's not more than one or two more strokes before he's coming all over shiro's hand like the teenager he is, moaning. ]

[ He hated alphas who were only concerned with getting an omega on their knot, or a beta if they couldn't find an omega who'd take them. They were the worst sort and he'd had to knock a couple heads together more than once to make sure that the alphas knew that they wouldn't tolerate that kind of shit when it came to the Garrison.

He's sure not to make the same mistakes, here. Lance deserves better than that; if he's going to do this with Shiro, he can damn well make sure that Lance enjoys it, every single bit of it, especially given all the -- what, surprises? Unanticipated side-effects? He's not sure what the term is. He does know what his duty is, though, even if he's not fully alpha anymore. ]

Shh, it's fine.

[ Though he's not sure what Lance is apologizing for, it doesn't matter. He doesn't need to apologize, not when he's warm and willing and tossing that ridiculous robe off and away so that Shiro has unlimited access to all the tanned skin he could hope to touch and lick and taste. It's sweet Lance seems to think he's panicking because of this, rather than that this-- heat, rut, whatever, is so strong that he's worried it'll overwhelm his thinking.

Lance comes quickly and Shiro's terribly pleased, not thinking to warn as he places a hand straight against his chest and shoves him down onto the bed, pulling with his other hand - a little come-wet, but that's probably not the worst thing to worry about here - on his thigh, leg, tugging him. It's graceless, but he makes sure Lance doesn't fall on his knees or bend his legs weird and then dives directly after him to start cleaning up the mess on his hand and belly, returning the favor. The scent of come mixed with Lance's slick is good, but his own body can't stop reminding him how good he would smell if it were Shiro's come mixed with Lance's wetness.

Shuddering out a breath, he mouths a kiss to his thigh when it's done and then debates manhandling him to face down and decides against it. Instead, he grabs at Lance's thighs and pulls him up until he's got only his shoulderblades on the bed. His lower back rests against Shiro's belly and the tops of his thighs and his legs are draped over his shoulders. It gives him perfect access to the wetness smeared there, lets him duck his head down and lick over his twitching hole. Next time, he thinks, he'll build up to it. Right now, he buries his face and eats him out with almost vicious enthusiasm. The hand that's not being used to hold Lance's chest and keep him in place shifts to his dick, jerking him off while he fucks his tongue into Lance. ]

[ lance would sure as hell be panicking if he were to suddenly go into the opposite thing of the thing he's expecting, ok, he's just assuming. shiro doesn't let them see things like panic anyway. he'd run off and locked himself away before any of them could find out that he was like this, presumably out of some dumb instinct to protect them or spare them or whatever, and he wants to-- he wants to make sure that shiro knows that it's okay. that the team is there for him.

or that lance is here for his dick, whatever. shiro needs it and lance can give it (wants to give it) and that's the important thing, right? even keith can't do this for shiro.

anyway orgasm always leaves him kinda limp and useless, all the things in his brain gratifyingly shutting off for a few minutes, which is why he doesn't quite realize at first that shiro is-- cleaning him up, oh god, he can't handle this, he is never going to be able to look at shiro ever again without popping wood, keith is going to murder him.

even though he's just come it won't take him long to get hard again, between his own teenage hormones and shiro's heat having pulled him into a sympathy cycle. he can smell his own heat mixed in with shiro's scent, now, a fainter version of an omega's overwhelming sweetness signalling his fertility and readiness to be bred. being flipped onto his stomach is something he would've expected but shiro manhandles him up, his legs over shiro's shoulders and god, he hadn't realized-- okay he'd known but he hadn't really known how strong shiro was, that he can lift lance almost all the way off the bed like it's nothing, alpha strength on full display. he opens his mouth to say something and then honest to god squeals as shiro licks him there, his hips bucking helplessly against the iron hold. he clutches wildly at the bed and at shiro, trying to find something to hold onto, but all he can really do is tip his head back against the sheets and make horrible embarrassing noises as shiro's tongue fucks into him. he's never, he's heard of this before but he's never done it or had it done to him, he'd never pictured shiro or any alpha licking him and it feels so fucking good he might actually die. his hips squirm and writhe without any direction from him and he wishes wildly that he could push back into it, that he could grab shiro's hair and hold his mouth there--

oh. well. he's grabbed shiro's hair and is holding his mouth there, trying to press it harder against his needy grasping hole, and all the while there are words falling out of his mouth that he can barely hear, cuss words and please in spanish and broken, choked off noises that aren't words at all, just helpless begging sounds. ]

Oh god, oh, oh, oh god, oh fuck, Shiro, Shiro, Shiro please--

[ he's so fucking wet, he can feel it on his thighs and dripping down his stomach from being held up like this, and he thinks he might actually be tearing up as his cock fills out under shiro's fingers, drooling down towards his chest. ]

>toebeans

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