Voltron open rp post

[cargopilot]

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VOLTRON OPEN POST - Lance

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

2. ????

3. Profit!

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[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.