Chapter Text
It was an unexpected blessing when the conference with the Puigans ended early, because Lance’s head wasn’t really in it. Keith had been acting strangely before he’d left—shifty and nervous—and Lance was worried. Keith didn’t do shifty and nervous—Keith was blunt and to the point. He brooded when something made him anxious—he didn’t look furtive and skittish.
Lance couldn’t help but think that this had to have something to do with the painting . A painting—gifted to Keith by a fan—where he was wearing a delicate apron, and not much else...
Lance was not proud of how he’d behaved that evening. He prided himself on being a generous lover—gentle and affectionate—but he’d seen Keith lovingly rendered in that tiny outfit, and some bone-deep impulse, an impulse to take Keith, had possessed him.
The fact that Keith had gone utterly pliant for him hadn’t helped curtail it. Keith had lain back and let Lance part his legs. Let Lance finger him ruthlessly till he cried, let Lance push inside after that, let Lance pin his wrists above his head while his hips worked furiously to assuage the fire in his belly.
Afterward, Keith had been an enervated, shivering mess, and all Lance could do was hold him and smooth his hair back over and over, wondering what the hell had come over him, and why Keith had gone along with it so easily.
Well. Technically, he knew what had come over him.
Keith was a beautiful man; it wasn’t a surprise that dressing him up in sexy lingerie would only accentuate that.
And now, a week later, all Lance could think about was the lingerie he wanted to see his beautiful boyfriend dressed in, in reality.
Too bad the horror on Keith's face when he’d seen that painting had been a tangible thing... the award for least likely to ever voluntarily wear lingerie went to— drum roll —Keith Kogane.
And if Keith didn’t like what he was wearing, if he didn’t think he was beautiful, if he was self-conscious and not having a good time, Lance wouldn’t either, which would completely defeat the purpose of the whole thing to begin with.
Besides, what they had going on was already pretty mind-blowingly amazing. Keith was basically the living embodiment of everything Lance found desirable—everything he’d ever wanted—and he spent an embarrassing amount of time in a state of general arousal around Keith already , let alone with lingerie up in the mix.
He couldn’t help it.
Keith tying up his hair—Keith smirking at him—Keith doing that little confused frown when he didn’t get something—Keith taking his hand—Keith cuddled up to him in the morning, cold feet pressing against Lance’s calves—even the innocuous things Keith did made Lance hot for him. He’d probably spontaneously combust if Keith did something on purpose.
All of this thinking about Keith’s general attractiveness was working him up. As Lance made his way towards their rooms, a loose plan was already forming in his mind. He was going to steal Keith’s attention from whatever he was doing, and seduce him out of his clothes…
In time they’d spend dating, Lance had found Keith to be very easily seducible, something which did wonders for his ego.
Lance input their door code, and it swished open for him.
“Honey, I’m ho—” Lance’s greeting was cut off, and he took in a sharp breath. He could hardly believe his eyes. It was as if his most ardent fantasy had gained a life of its own and transplanted itself from Lance’s head into reality.
He blinked, and blinked again, but what he saw wasn’t changing.
Keith standing in front of the full-length mirror, his back to him.
Keith’s muscular, curvy legs encased in sheer material.
The bare skin of his thighs.
Above that, his frankly edible ass.
A white bow resting at the small of his back—like a gift.
The slopes of his shoulders, broad and strong.
In the mirror, that handsome face, those perfect cheekbones, suffused with a lovely blush.
And then, the apron— a white frilly fucking apron —barely covering his nipples. Barely coming down low enough to cover his—
“Um…” Keith turned to face him. God, he was lovely. Lance’s lovely lovely boy. “Surprise?” he said. Cute . He was so cute.
Lance reaching behind himself blindly to hit the button to shut the door—his eyes wouldn’t leave Keith. He couldn’t stop looking and looking and looking.
“I—I thought you might—look, if—if I’m wrong , and this isn’t something you’d be into , I’ll take this off, and—”
“No,” Lance interrupted. Something he wasn’t into? Something he wasn’t into? Lance felt like he was on the verge of hysteria. “No,” he repeated, drawing nearer, finally remembering he could move.
Keith was even more gorgeous up close.
“This is for me?” Lance murmured, reaching out to toy with the lace on the apron, rolling it between his fingertips to feel its texture.
“Yeah, it is,” Keith answered, shivering.
“God, you’re so beautiful, let me—can I—?” He took Keith by the shoulders and turned him around slowly, eyes roaming over every inch of him, hands following quickly, smoothing over Keith’s warm skin, feeling his muscles.
There was something about all that masculine strength framed by such soft fabrics that just made Lance feel so hot— he wanted to ravish Keith.
“So… you like it?” Keith Kogane—ace pilot and general badass — looked bashful.
“I adore it.” Lance pressed a kiss to his forehead, his cheek, hands winding tightly— possessively —around Keith’s waist, thumbs stroking. Every touch was reverent, worshipful. “I adore you… God, I wanna fuck you so badly,” Lance breathed.
He spun Keith in a circle with the grip he had on his waist so that Keith’s back was to him, before taking his hands and guiding Keith forward until he could press Keith’s palms flat against the wall on either side of the full-length mirror.
He pressed himself against Keith’s back—pressed his hips forward so Keith could feel how hard he was—and gave his shoulder an affectionate nip, staring over Keith’s shoulder into the mirror. Staring at them.
The sight of them together—the contrast between Keith’s delicate, skimpy outfit, and the crisp lines of Lance’s own Garrison Uniform — only ramped up his excitement. Edged him even closer to his breaking point.
“Look at you, you’re so gorgeous.”
When Lance let go of his hands, Keith very obligingly kept them exactly where Lance had placed them, and arched his back prettily.
Lance fiddled with the straps tying the apron around Keith’s neck, fingers dancing down to play with the neckline, feeling the softness of the fabric, purposefully brushing Keith’s half-hidden nipples. It made Keith shudder.
Lance avidly watched his own hands in the mirror, loving how they looked on Keith’s body, touching him. He let them drift lower, feeling the muscles of Keith’s abdomen twitch through the thin fabric. Lance loved how responsive Keith was to touch, how sensitive he was, how he squirmed and leaned into it.
“Is this what you want?” Lance murmured darkly in Keith’s ear.
In the mirror Keith bit his lip, and nodded in answer, his expression gratifyingly invested. Cute, but not good enough.
Lance reached up and thumbed Keith’s bottom lip, forcing him to release it from his teeth, soothing the soft skin by stroking it. He took him firmly by the chin, forcing Keith to meet his eye in the mirror.
“Need you to talk to me, baby.”
“ Yes, it’s what I want. Last week was—” Keith cut his words short to groan when Lance’s other hand slipped down, ghosting over his lap; he was so hard his cock was tenting the fabric of the apron. Lance slipped his hand under the hem to stroke the tops of Keith’s thighs.
“Last week was what?” Lance prompted. This was important, he needed to know what Keith thought of him. Of his behavior—his performance.
“B-because of the painting—you—you were—it was hot, ” Keith blurted.
Lance blinked.
“Is this—did—did you like that?”
Keith nodded, and this time Lance let it slide, because— holy shit —Keith was into it.
“Did you… did you wear this for me because you wanted that again?”
Keith nodded again, some of the tension leaving his shoulders as if he was relieved that Lance understood him. Well, fuck Lance sideways. Keith was so into it that he’d gone and acquired himself this outfit in a bid to tempt Lance into doing it again. As if Keith had to do anything other than exist to tempt him.
“Baby—” Lance wrapped a hand around Keith’s cock, squeezing him firmly, and Keith let out a soft sound. “If you just asked I would have done it. You didn’t have to dress up.”
“I—I like the way you look at me.”
The grin Lance gave Keith in the mirror was wolfish.
“You like the way I look at you?” he crooned, voice low. He started stroking Keith slow, while his other hand roamed Keith’s torso, slipping beneath the top of the apron to rub one of his nipples.
“Mmm,” Keith hummed in response, eyes fluttering shut.
“Uh-uh, nope, keep those pretty eyes open, baby. Look at us,” Lance ordered, halting the movements of his hands; he wasn’t going to move until Keith complied. Keith whined, but ultimately did what Lance said, pouting in the mirror.
Lance chuckled and resumed his rhythm. He worked Keith faster, squeezed him tighter. He let his other hand feel up Keith’s chest as it made its way over to his other nipple, leaving Keith’s apron delightfully rumpled.
“I’m gonna make you come, Keith. You’re gonna come for me, and you’re gonna watch. Want you to see how beautiful you are.”
It was true, Keith was gorgeous like this. Gorgeous when he let himself go; when he let Lance take care of him. Lance loved how flushed his face got, how his chest would heave as he tried to catch his breath.
Lance let his other hand slip lower, slip backward, so he could squeeze Keith’s ass, and it made him moan.
“That’s it, you sound so good,” Lance praised, pressing wet, lingering kisses to Keith’s neck.
Keith whined and bared his neck further, leaving Lance no choice but to bite, hard enough to leave behind the indents of his teeth.
“Fuck, Lance—” Keith breathed, taking his hands off the wall in front of him, and making as if to turn around. It was a move Lance should have predicted; Keith was impulsive normally , let alone when he was horny and worked up. When he was horny and worked up he was terrible at keeping his hands to himself—something that usually thrilled Lance, something he wholeheartedly encouraged—but not this time.
This time, Keith needed to stay still and let Lance do this to him. Lance needed him to watch.
In a show of strength and quick reflexes, Lance captured Keith’s wrists and slammed them back against the wall where they belonged.
Shit. He’d done that much harder than he’d intended too, but Keith was letting him. Keith was moaning, and pushing back to rub his ass up against Lance’s hard-on. Keith was begging him breathlessly, “please Lance, don’t stop touching me—”
But still, Lance had to make sure. He had to double-check.
“I’m sorry,” he whispered, low and contrite. He wrapped his arms around Keith and hugged him tightly, kissed the back of his neck apologetically. “You’re okay? That wasn’t too rough?”
“That’s what I want,” Keith growled, grinding back on Lance impatiently, and reminding Lance how fucking hot it was when he was aggressive.
“You’re sure?”
“Would I be dressed like this if I wasn’t?” said Keith flatly. Touché.
“And you’ll tell me if anything’s too much?”
Keith rolled his eyes. “ Yes, I’ll tell you. Now can you give it to me? I want it.”
I want it. I want it. I WANT IT.
Those words echoed through Lance’s skull mockingly. Keith had no clue. No clue whatsoever how many of Lance’s thoughts were devoted to him. How badly Lance wanted him all the time.
“Don’t move,” Lance ordered, stepping away. Keith obeyed, staying perfectly still, only his eyes moving in the mirror as they followed Lance. They widened when Lance grabbed the lube from the bedside table, and Lance couldn’t help the smirk that spread across his face.
“Good boy,” Lance murmured when he returned, smoothing a hand over Keith’s shoulder, down his back, tugging teasingly on the bow at the base of Keith’s spine, before giving his ass a squeeze.
Lance loved Keith’s ass, how firm it was. He couldn’t stop staring at his hand on it—sometimes it was hard to believe that Keith let him touch him like this. That Keith wanted him like this, just as badly as Lance had always wanted him.
He slid his hand lower, fingertips tracing the divide between Keith’s thigh and the top of the stockings—the contrast between silky material and warm skin was pleasing.
“These look so fuckin’ hot, baby. Make your legs look amazing,” he praised.
“Lance, c’mon, do something,” Keith panted.
Lance uncapped the lube one-handed, and with his other hand, reached around to pull the skirt of Keith’s apron up and out of the way, baring him to the mirror.
There was something wonderfully debauched about having Keith like this. Arms trembling, outfit pulled askew.
“Shh, I got you, babe,” Lance soothed, hooking his head over Keith’s shoulder so he could look down and watch as he drizzled a copious amount of lube all over Keith’s hard, weeping cock. “Let’s get you nice and wet…”
Lance released the apron so he could drizzle lube over his fingers too, before tossing the bottle carelessly over his shoulder, and putting both hands back on Keith’s body. One sneaked back under the hem of the apron, while the other—slick with lube—parted his cheeks...
Keith let out a whimper when Lance wrapped his fingers around him again and touched him there, eyes absolutely wild, teeth biting his lower lip.
Lance stroked his cock, slow and even, while focusing the lion’s share of his attention on what his other hand was doing…
Easing inside. Stretching him open. Getting him ready. Lance had to do this part right, needed to be thorough and gentle, because while he planned to be thorough with what came next, he didn’t plan on being gentle.
All the while Keith looked beautiful in the mirror, and made the most beautiful sounds.
“I’m gonna fuck you, right here, and we’re gonna watch,” Lance promised.
“Y— hah—ah ,” gasped Keith, rocking his hips back to make Lance’s fingers slide deeper, trying to get Lance to touch the spots he liked more firmly.
Once three fingers were an easy glide and no longer crushingly tight, Lance pulled back, both hands wet and sticky with lube.
“Keith, undo my pants,” Lance ordered. Keith obeyed by turning and kneeling to complete the task, even though he could do it just as well from standing, and Lance felt as if he would die from wanting him.
“God, you’re so perfect,” Lance breathed as Keith undid his belt impatiently, letting it fall to the floor. Keith let out a little self-deprecating snort.
“M’not perfect,” he said, as he undid Lance’s pants and pulled down his zip.
“You’re perfect for me, ” Lance insisted, before groaning as Keith fished him out, those strong calloused fingers closing around him and pumping him lovingly.
“Fuck—can I—?” Keith leaned forward and pressed a kiss to Lance’s tip, staring up at him with those big, beautiful, puppy dog eyes. As a rule, Lance never turned down head from Keith—he was fucking good at it—but he needed him too badly.
“No, get up.”
Lance spread the extra lube coating his hands on his dick, before grabbing Keith, and half-helping, half-manhandling him into standing.
Keith didn’t resist at all when Lance pushed him back up against the wall in front of the mirror.
“Now,” murmured Lance, right into Keith’s ear as he lined himself up. “Keith, there’s something I want you to do.”
Keith let slip a pleasured sob when Lance breached him, and Lance couldn’t help the groan of gratification he let slip himself, their voices harmonizing pleasingly.
“W-what?” Keith gasped.
“I want you to look at yourself,” Lance ordered.
Lance curled his hands around Keith’s hips, gripping tightly. He loved this part; the first push and slide, easing himself into Keith’s wet, welcoming, unbearably tight, heat. He loved overcoming that resistance, feeling Keith give around the head of his cock, and the bone shaking slide that followed.
“F-fuck,” Keith whimpered. Lance could feel him trembling, could see his biceps shaking as they strained to brace his own weight against the wall as Lance moved against him.
God, he was sexy. Especially when he was all flushed, eyes teary, chest heaving, lips parted to pant for breath. Especially when Lance was inside of him…
“Are you looking, Keith?” Lance asked breathlessly, pulling out just so he could ram himself back inside, deriving an absurd amount of satisfaction from that wonderful skin-on-skin slap sound. Keith moaned.
“I’m trying,” he whined, face pinched in exquisite agony as his eyelids fluttered.
Lance thrust again, and again, faster and faster, building up a pace that filled the room with those filthy slaps.
Lance kept up a whispered litany of sweet, filthy things, right into Keith’s ear, while Keith keened and shook and panted.
“You’re so lovely like this, you feel so good. Gonna make me come,” Lance murmured.
Keith shifted to brace himself, before taking an arm off the wall. He reached down, obviously aiming to touch himself, but before he could, Lance grabbed him by the wrist and forced his arm back up into position.
The sound Keith made was close to a sob.
“Pl- Please,” he whimpered. “I—I need—”
“Shh, I got you, baby. Let me take care of you...” Lance soothed, while his hips went on pounding almost savagely .
He snaked a hand around Keith’s front, and groped around to get it underneath the apron.
Keith let out small choked sound when Lance’s fingers finally closed around him.
“C’mon, c’mon, Lance,” he begged, rocking his hips in tight little circles to fuck himself back on Lance’s cock, and forward into his hand.
This was the part they were best at—matching each other’s furious pace. Working together towards a shared goal, particularly when that goal was getting off.
Lance could feel it cresting within himself, like a wave that was about to break.
“Gonna come,” he warned, fingers tingling, balls drawing tight—
“Do it, come in me,” Keith gasped, and that was enough to end Lance, explosively. He wrapped his arms around Keith tightly, hips stilling as he spent himself deep inside of him with a long drawn out moan.
It was truly gut-wrenching, leaving him weak in the knees, but he wasn’t done yet. Keith was still squirming and panting, not yet satisfied. He took a hand off the wall again, tentatively reaching down.
“Lance,” he whispered, an entreaty.
“I got you,” Lance replied, pushing Keith’s hand away as he pulled out carefully. He gave himself a moment to just look at the pretty picture Keith made like this—broad muscled shoulders, trim waist, tight ass, lovely thighs—before spinning Keith to face him and pushing his back to the mirror.
He held Keith by the hips, looked him dead in the eye, before very deliberately lowering himself to his knees.
Keith took in a shaky breath, and one of his hands came to rest on Lance’s head.
“It’s only fair, right,” whispered Lance, “I came in you. You should come in me.”
Keith nodded as Lance lifted the apron, his breathing choppy and shallow. His eyes were dilated to pinpricks and fixated on Lance’s face with Keith’s customary intensity. Lance loved it when Keith looked at him like that; as if there was nothing that could rip his attention away.
“Hold this out of the way for me will you?” he asked, and Keith obliged with the hand that wasn’t on Lance’s head, keeping the apron out of the way of his arousal.
“You’ve been so good,” Lance praised, and then he leaned in to take Keith into his mouth. The time for teasing was long past—Lance hollowed his cheeks and bobbed his head, laving the head of Keith’s cock with his tongue on every backstroke, maintaining eye-contact as he did it.
If Lance had to choose between giving or receiving head, he’d be hard-pressed to decide which he liked better; the correct answer was probably whichever was presently happening. Presently, Keith’s hand clenched in his hair, pulling but not guiding. Lance not only liked the pain, he welcomed it, moaning around Keith’s cock.
Lance loved the way Keith looked at him when he did this for him; equal parts awed and grateful. He loved the weight of Keith against his tongue, he loved the slightly salty taste of his skin, how it got stronger the closer Keith was to finishing. He especially loved the way Keith would babble when he was really close.
“Fuck, Lance . Your mouth—I’m—You’re gonna make me—”
Lance just stared at him steadily and sucked harder. Do it, he thought, hoping he communicated it non-verbally that with the look in his eyes. Give it to me.
With a high cry, Keith came. He filled Lance’s mouth, body bowing in half, hands clutching at Lance’s hair.
Making Keith come always made Lance feel smug and satisfied— accomplished —so when he pulled back, swallowing and wiping his mouth with the back of his hand roughly, he couldn’t hold back his smirk.
Because boy did Keith look wrecked, and it was all thanks to him.
Lance heaved himself back up to his feet, before putting himself away and doing up his pants—it felt a bit ridiculous to leave his cock hanging out when he was otherwise fully dressed.
“Come here,” he murmured, reaching for Keith. He came easily, melting into Lance’s tight embrace.
He did that adorable thing that never failed to squeeze Lance’s heart where he tucked his head trustingly into the space between Lance’s neck and shoulder like it was made to fit him. Lance felt like it was.
He dropped a kiss on top of Keith’s head, and stroked his hair, just enjoying how soft Keith was in his afterglow. Just enjoying being close, and quiet.
“C’mon, let’s go clean up,” he murmured eventually, pulling back.
They headed to their ensuite hand in hand, and kissed languidly between divesting each other of their clothes.
The best part for Lance was kneeling at Keith’s feet, Keith’s hands on his shoulder for balance, as he rolled those stockings down Keith’s legs, one at a time…
It didn’t take them long to clean each other once they were in the shower. It took much longer for them to stop kissing and stop touching for long enough to remember to get out.
They dried themselves quickly, and then Lance took Keith’s hand—both of them naked—and led him back to their bed.
Lance’s plan was to make out and touch until either they both got worked up enough for another round, or they fell asleep, but there was stuff all over their bed…
“What’s all this?” asked Lance, and Keith froze abruptly, his hand going stiff in Lance’s grip. When Lance looked back at him, Keith wouldn’t meet his eye. His mouth was set in a pout, and he was blushing.
Nonplussed, Lance turned back to the bed to examine the stuff—scraps of fabric?— more closely.
He reached out and picked up a scrap of red. It was… a silky camisole. His eyes picked out other pieces now that he knew what he was looking at: white stockings, a black suspender belt, a lacy bralette, a blue thong— it was all lingerie . It looked like someone had dumped a whole store worth of lingerie on their bed.
“Did you buy all of this?” Lance asked, sounding vaguely awed.
Keith cringed. “I can explain,” he blurted.
“Please do,” Lance replied, doing his best to bite down the chuckle he wanted to let out because the last thing he wanted was for Keith to feel mocked or embarrassed.
Lance dropped the camisole and took Keith’s other hand so he was holding both, and kneaded Keith’s knuckles with his thumbs. The familiar gesture seemed to help ease some of the tension in Keith’s shoulders.
“I just—I didn’t know what to get, so the person in the shop recommended some things… a lot of things… and I didn’t know what I was doing, so I, um, just bought everything?”
Lance mentally translated that Keith-speak into: I panicked and brought everything so I could leave the store.
It must have been way outside of Keith’s comfort zone; Keith was notoriously private. The things between them—the tender, loving, sexual, emotional things—were for them only. Keith let his guard down so Lance could slip inside, granting him access to parts of himself that were soft and delicate, and Lance knew how hard that was for him, and he could never take Keith’s trust in him for granted because it had been hard-won.
So Keith going out of his way to do this thing that was supremely uncomfortable for him, in order to fulfill one of Lance’s fantasies, unasked, was just… it was love, wasn’t it?
“You are adorable,” Lance declared decisively.
“Oh my God,” said Keith faintly, pulled a hand away so he could cover his mortified face.
“I’m serious! It’s true!” Lance insisted, grabbing at Keith’s hand to try and gently pull it from his face.
“Doesn’t mean you have to say it like that, out loud ,” Keith retorted. He sounded pained, but Lance couldn’t stop grinning.
“You know,” Lance began slowly, “we’re pretty much the same size. I wouldn’t be opposed to wearing something for you, seeing as we have all this… left over. If that would be something you’d be into…”
Judging by the way Keith’s breath hitched, and the way he peeked out from behind his hand, eyes darting towards the bed—towards the lingerie— he wouldn’t be opposed at all.
“C’mon,” said Lance, leaning in to press a kiss to Keith’s forehead. “Let’s go through this stuff, and see if there’s anything you like.”
(It turned out that there were a lot of pieces both of them liked.)