Voltron open rp post

[cargopilot]

~

VOLTRON OPEN POST - Lance

1. Leave a prompt, picture, or sceneset in the comments

2. ????

3. Profit!

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[theotherholt]

[Matt hums quietly at Lance's initial protests, ducking forward to kiss at the side of his neck, slow and gentle, careful not to leave any marks. He's more than a little relieved that the younger boy has gotten over his initial skittishness, has opened his mind to the idea that being close and affectionate can be good. Because it is, it's soothing and nice, half-floating in the almost-warm water, nuzzling over Lance's soft skin, loving the distinct human taste of it, salty and sunkissed and perfect.

He feels perfect too, created and shaped with the utmost care to respond so sweetly to Matt's fingers inside him, no longer hesitant but opening eagerly to the skillful, practiced penetration. Matt's been with other concubines, and most anatomy is universal -- it makes it easier to breed, to carry and deliver without complications -- but there are things that are uniquely human, uniquely Lance. He's tighter than Matt, he alternately tenses and bucks his narrow hips for more, his body is tangibly hungry for more, and Matt murmurs his wordless apology for not being able to give it. There are some things he's no longer able to provide.

But he knows -- knew, knew very well -- Shiro, and though the memories are laced with heartache, they're sweet all the same. So Matt moves his other arm to lace around Lance's slim waist, pulls him closer, bites where his neck and shoulder meet and murmurs, all while thrusting two, then three fingers inside him:] I remember. I remember that control. That noble self-sacrificing leadership.

[He pauses, thumbs at Lance's clit, harder than before, relentless, whispering:] I remember what he got like when he let go of it. It's just like you imagine, Lance -- his hands, his mouth. He could take you to pieces with them. All without even taking his clothes off.

[cargopilot]

Oh god.

[ that’s it, that’s all it takes, matt’s words painting a filthy picture that’s already too close to some of lance’s dirtier fantasies, and he clenches hard on the fingers stretching him, clinging to matt’s shoulders as that feeling takes control of his body again and orgasm crashes over him in a wave. his overactive imagination puts shiro there in the water with him, with them, broad and muscular and dark-eyed, intense, and even the awful realization that shiro and matt were lost lovers isn’t enough to keep lance from coming again, moaning brokenly and writhing his hips when matt finds and strokes his swollen, throbbing clit.

he’s gasping and sensitive when it’s done, shivering against matt, nuzzling him mindlessly. the wash of the water carries away any nasty, sticky residue, so he’s neither overheated nor unpleasantly damp with his own come, although he can feel how much natural slick he’s producing from the way matt’s fingers glide so easily inside him. ]

I want him, [ he whispers blindly, confessing. it feels good to confess. ] I want him here, I want him to come here and be with us.

[ his clumsy, groping fingers find the chain clinging to matt’s swollen belly and he plucks at it, gentle but relentless, following it like a guide rope down between matt’s thighs. ]

[theotherholt]

[Matt murmurs sweet nonsense against Lance's ear, one arm still around him, stroking up and down his shivering back, tracing the line of his spine, waiting for the aftershocks to abate before he moves his fingers again. He knows from experience that Lance can go again, that every climax will make him want more, crave it on a bone-deep, instinctive level, until he's mindlessly helpless at the mercy of his own desire. Perhaps it's wrong, morally, objectively, to get him addicted like this.

Then again, Matt gave up morals a while back. Instead he presses closer, letting Lance feel the curve of his body, the heaviness of his stomach, his chest, the warmth and softness that beckons for touching, exploration. He thumbs over Lance's clit again, softer, a whisper of sensation to undercut his words:] You've wanted him for a while, haven't you? I know, I remember how it is. Have you imagined being underneath him, in his lap, riding him? Have you imagined those hands on you, that voice in your ear?

[He presses a line of kisses along Lance's heated skin, down his neck to his shoulder, starts moving his hand again, wanting to make this sweet, helpless boy come at his touch again.] Have you imagined him fucking you, Lance?

[cargopilot]

[ lance shudders and trembles under matt's attentions, hips rolling into it, already learning the right rhythm and force to fuck himself on someone else's fingers. the idea that he can come again, and again, and again after that has already started to normalize, he wants it, all he wants is to drown in pleasure until he's too tired to move. the fact that he's a captive, that matt's a captive, that they're both locked away inside the heart of an imperial fleet doesn't even matter right now, and already the skittishness he'd shown when matt first arrived is fading to a faint memory. it was ridiculous to be afraid of this. this is what he is, this is what he's built for, and there's no point in denying how being touched makes him feel. ]

Yes, yes, [ he moans, tilting his head to give matt access, loving the way his warm mouth feels. ]

I have, I do, I want him to fuck me, I want to sit on his cock, please, please.

[ the feel of matt's heavy belly pressed against him is driving him crazy, the tempting weight of his soft, milk-heavy breasts and the flashing little studs in their nipples right there to be teased and fondled. he cups one, squeezing, his other hand still fumbling between matt's thighs, trying to reciprocate what matt is doing to him. ]

[theotherholt]

[Lance is inexpert, all eager fumbling and shaky hands, but the fingers squeezing at Matt's tender, aching breast makes him whine, high and pleading, crooking his fingers just so, wanting to feel Lance shudder apart again. The hand between his legs doesn't matter as much, not when he can part his thighs and shift forward, prompting and guiding silently, even slicker than Lance is, coaxing his trembling fingers where they need to be.

He's absolutely shameless, arching his back, moaning softly whenever Lance's rough fingers stray too close to the tiny jeweled studs, whimpering sweetly:] God, god, yes, play with them, play with my tits, sweetheart, go ahead.

[Another shaky gasp, and he slows his movements suddenly, thumbing teasingly over where Lance is soaked and swollen and sore, not nearly enough. There's a teasing note in his voice when he whispers, leaning in, wet tangled hair falling over his shoulder:] Say it. Tell me where you want it, where you want Shiro's cock. Tell me.

[cargopilot]

I-- I--!

[ he comes again instead of saying it, riding matt's fingers and wailing, pushed over by the thought of having shiro's heavy cock inside him. he kneads matt's breast fitfully and then lowers his head in a spasm of unthinking impulse to kiss and suck the soft flesh around the stud, mounding matt's tit, and finally closing his lips over the pierced nipple to nurse. bending himself down like that means putting a little distance between them, matt's fingers sliding free with a tangible squelch. the absence is awful and immediate but he keeps his own trembling fingers inside matt, rubbing and searching, concentrating on him. ]

I want it inside me, [ he whispers, hiding his face against matt's lovely tits, licking the sea spray off them. ]

I want his cock in me, I want it in my-- my p-pussy.

[theotherholt]

[It isn't easy to say -- Matt remembers, he remembers with a regret and a sorrow that anyone else has to struggle through that adjustment, that Lance feels he has to fight against what his whole body clearly wants. So he rewards it immediately, stroking his fingers through the younger boy's soft, damp hair, gentle on the nape of his neck, petting at the ridge of his spine the way he would for a restless, fretful kit. The feeling of that hot, wet mouth against the pierced nub of his breast makes him shiver luxuriously, rocking his hips gently, cunt gripping tight around Lance's long fingers.

Despite the cool water, Matt's shoulders are slippery with sweat, heart thudding quick and eager in his chest, pulse thrumming through his body and prompting the kits inside his body to shift restlessly, tangible where he's pressed close to Lance's shivering body. Another soft moan and the pressure in his sore breast eases slightly under the searching tongue and lips, the jeweled stud beaded suddenly with milk. A gentle laugh, relieved.]

See? Not so hard, right? [He smooths the tangled wet hair from Lance's face, half indulgent affection at the surrender, half barely-repressed longing to see someone -- Shiro, Zarkon, a nameless Galra stud -- give Lance what he so desperately needs. Matt's hands and mouth are well-practiced, but this sweet, vulnerable newcomer needs more, needs to be bred the way his body is craving.] You're okay. It's okay.