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“Please, please, please, please...” Lance had been saying for a while now. At least, he hoped he had been saying that, he wasn't so sure. “Shi-Shiro...”
The grip Shiro had on his hair got tighter, abrasive. Almost not in a good way but Lance was so into it that he didn't really notice. Everything felt like almost too much, anyway.
“What was that, kitten?”
The sounds leaving Lance were embarrassing, it took him a lot of tries before he could modulate words. Shiro's dark and husky voice always left him breathless. God, it felt like all the air in the universe wasn't enough to fill his lungs.
Nor that it mattered. He was shaking so hard he didn't have the mind to remember he was supposed to breathe to calm down.
“I-I me—I—Sorry, master. Master, master, please...”
Shiro growled. Lance moaned at the sound.
That was Shiro in those moments, all grunts, growls, and commands, and damned if it wasn't the hottest thing ever.
Everything Shiro did and kept doing felt hotter than hell in Lance's honest opinion. Lance felt like he was being teased from the inside out; his orgasm just out of reach, held there by Shiro. Maybe that was the point. Everything pushed him almost to the edge, from the mask that covered his eyes to the bar that prevented his legs from closing, but the fucking edge keep moving forward as if respecting Shiro's silent command.
His body was soooo in sync with Shiro's demands that Lance wasn't even embarrassed by it. In fact, he found it incredibly sexy. But, oh God, did he need to come. Right now. Ten minutes ago.
“Please,” he begged again for good measure.
Shiro sneered, the bastard. Then, he released Lance's hair in favor of placing both of his hands on Lance's tights one more. Lance felt him accommodate his weight in the bed between his leg. Oh no. Oh no no no no.
Lance was whimpering even before Shiro talked because even when he couldn't see a thing he knew full well what was going to happen next.
“Not yet, kitten.”
And then Shiro's tongue was back at his rim and Lance couldn't hold back a scream. Half in incredible arousal, half in frustration.
“Fuuuuuck!” And maybe Lance wanted to say many other things but they got lost on the way out. Only small swearwords could be heard from him in between Shiro's pleased grunts.
Lance could feel Shiro's tongue going around and around his hole, then it was in without any kind of resistance. Shiro growled as the tongue-fucking began again, all fury and fire. Two of Shiro's mechanical fingers joined the party a few seconds later and Lance was crying for release now.
“Maaaaster! I can't! I—Please!”
If anything, Shiro's tongue became even more audacious in its exploration, and three fingers now were moving all around his inner walls, stretching and searching for his prostate.
“AH, FUCK!” Yeap, there it was. Lance's whole body shook from the stimulation. His hands tied over his head to the wall were shaking so much that the whole mattress was moving with them. He was so ready to come, really.
Shiro laughed. He laughed, completely satisfied, the fucker. He knew the effects that all the teasing and foreplay were doing to Lance, especially with him being so vocal about it. Shiro enjoyed himself way too much when he got Lance so into it that he couldn't think, that Lance just felt trapped between two opposite desires with the same amount of fire: I need to come and I need to please. It was an awful battle.
Or maybe it wasn't awful at all. Just incredibly exciting and hot but Lance was at the end of his rope, desperate and slightly confused. For the first time in a long time, he was seriously doubting he wasn't going to finish before Shiro wanted him to. And that was bad, bad, bad.
Slightly panicking, Lance tried to take deeper breaths but he was panting so much that it felt like nothing. On instinct, he attempted to close his legs but the bar that Shiro had previously tied to his ankles made it impossible. Shiro was no longer licking him or fingering him but he was so wired up that it didn't matter. He wasn't gonna make it, he wasn't gonna make it. He either come or die and he wasn't gonna make it.
Suddenly, strong arms lifted him up by his shoulders, his ass still in the air but now his head was above too. It took him a few moments but Shiro's voice, still dark, still dangerous but now with a reassuring edge on it reached his ears, and Lance, as always, obeyed its orders.
“Breathe, kitten. Breathe. It's ok. Just breathe.”
Lance did it, each desperate breath echoing inside the small room.
Not even a full minute later Lance felt pulled from the edge, more in control. His body was still shivering wildly and bloody fuck he needed to come but he was better. Shiro always made everything better.
“There you are,” Shiro welcomed him.
Lance was still wearing his eye mask but he could easily guess that Shiro was smiling at him. Lance moved his arms around a bit, silently cueing Shiro to put him on the bed again, this time taking part of his weight on his elbows, wrists still tied to the wall.
“Better now, kitten?” Shiro asked, moving a heavy and possessive hand all over Lance's back.
Lance took a deep breath before answering; still, his voice sounded beyond wrecked.
“Y-Yes. Sorry, master. I thought... I thought—I almost came and I...”
“Oh, my kitten. It's ok. Next time, you need to tell me. We have colors for that, remember?”
“Yes. Of co-course. I'm sorry.”
Shiro's touch went to his hips. It was reassuring in the same measure that it was sexy and filled with meaning. Lance loved it and revel in it.
“What's my mission, kitten?”
If it was possible, Lance felt himself blush even more. His legs shook in their prison, once again trying in vain to close themselves because he felt so turned on and vulnerable in an indescribable way that his whole body wanted to form a little ball of joy and too much energy and just roll around.
Lance knew this dialogue all too well. It was tattooed inside his heart. It wasn't uncommon that they have this kind of sex, all about possession and dark pleasure, but when they did, Shiro made sure Lance knew where they were standing, even with the incredibly arousing nicknames and the fact that Shiro pretty much did with him whatever he was in the mood for.
So every time Shiro asked in that impossible dangerous voice, a far cry from his regular voice, what's my mission, kitten (Lance was always kitten in these scenarios), there was only one correct answer.
“To make me feel good.”
“Yes, because your wish is my command,” Lance could feel Shiro rearranging himself behind him, still caressing his lower back and now his ass and his tights as well. “And why is that, kitten?”
“Cuz—'Cause I'm yours.”
“Exactly. You are mine,” Shiro growled. An excited shiver roamed all over Lance's back, down to his balls, and then up, up, exploding in his head. He was close still, very turned on, and now ready to take on whatever Shiro wanted him to. “You are mine. And I always take care of what it's mine, Lance.”
Lance moaned, all inhibitions overridden in favor of feeling wave after wave of dark and consuming pleasure. Shiro was a sex God, let that be said.
Lance felt Shiro's cock subtly moving up and down between his asscheeks, teasing him again. Oh God, oh God. Yes, yes, yes.
“Yes, yes. Please, master. Oh fuck. Green. Ultra green. Please, please,” Lance cried.
“You're missing something, kitten,” Fuuuck. Shiro's deep and dark voice was directly in his ear, whispering out hot air. Then Shiro's tongue was burning a path from his jaw to his nape and Lance's brain had to make an immense effort to understand what Shiro was asking from him.
Oh, right. The last phrase, the last piece of their well-practiced dialogue. The words that usually did so much to Lance that he could never say them without quaking a little.
“And... And you are mine.”
“Hell yeah, I am.”
And finally, finally, Shiro thrust inside him, nothing gentle and without any more teasing and Lance screamed in sweet ecstasy.
“Master, master,” Lance panted, trying to keep supporting his own weight through his elbows and knees and failing every two seconds. When Shiro noticed it he helped Lance more than a little, embracing his hips in a savage grip and moving them front and back at a brutal pace.
Lance was lost. He was fairly sure he was making all kinds of sounds, all of them loud and filled with pleasure but he couldn't hear himself, too lost in sensations. But he felt Shiro's hand moving alright. Unhurriedly, Shiro took his prosthetic hand to Lance's neck and squeezed a little. Lance was panting again, his whole body rebelling against the burn that lightly choked him and he was feeling himself getting higher and higher, completely lightheaded.
A second later, Shiro forced Lance's mind to get back to being present in the moment again. Back to feeling everything, every little movement his body was submitted to, back to obeying Shiro's voice even when it was a whisper pressed into Lance's back of the neck.
“Who do you belong to?” Shiro growled, barely moving his lips.
Lance was expecting the question. Shiro always, with no exception, asked it when he was being rough to Lance in bed. It also cued Lance into knowing that Shiro himself was close to his climax.
“Who do you belong to, kitten?”
“Y—You, you. I belong to you.”
“Good kitty.”
Shiro found his prostate again while his human hand went to Lance's impossible-hard cock and then an incredible combination of colors exploded in Lance's head and he was gone.
Spectacular free-fall into ecstasy.
The aftercare was always glorious.
Shiro kept calling him mine through all the motions of releasing him from the wall and taking away the bar from his legs, closing them with care. Then, lightly massaging his arms, wrists, legs, and ankles. “Mine, kitten. Mine, Lance,” he said over and over again, in different tones of voice, trying to get his body under control after such an amazing orgasm.
The mask covering Lance's eyes, as usual, was the last thing to be removed. It took him a second, but when Lance finally focused on Shiro he couldn't help but smile. He couldn't move, he probably had more marks on his body than any fight in space would ever leave him and his mind was completely blank but he was satisfied and happy. Very, very happy.
Shiro returned his smile, all gentleness, and sweetness. Oh, life was good.
“You ok there?” Shiro asked pre-cleaning Lance's skin with a towel. Lance knew a bath was in his near future; Shiro was considerate like that.
“Yeaaaah,” well, they both knew his legs were useless after their rough sessions. Nothing new there. Lance would feel like he was floating for a while.
Shiro laid down and accommodated himself to cuddle into Lance's neck. He touched every part of Lance that was obviously used and bruised, (so, all of his body) with soft and caring hands, delivering some kisses to Lance's collarbone.
Lance sighed. That was heaven. Anything else was just behind this.
“I'm yours too, you know?” Shiro said in a quiet voice.
“Of course you are,” that was Lance's cue to hug him. “You are mine, Shiro. And I'm yours. So much yours.”
Shiro laughed softly, pleased.
“I know. I love you,” a few seconds of silence passed over and Lance already knew what was going to happen next. Lance couldn't understand how Shiro found comfort in repeating the same conversations over and over again but he wasn't complaining about it, mostly because at that point they were a familiar routine, the opposite of a trigger, calming his heart into a happy beat. “You know your wish is my command, right? Always. No matter what.”
It was Lance's turn to laugh.
“I wish for a bath, my master.”
“No. Just Shiro now.”
Shiro took delicately his face in his human hand, moving his eyes all over Lance's features. Then he kissed him. No rush at all, just good feelings and a great dose of love. Lance smiled. Shiro made him so effortlessly happy.
“I'll go to start your bath.”
“Sure. Hey, Shiro?”
“Mh?”
“I love you too.”
--
Lance couldn't believe his eyes.
Shiro. His beloved Shiro was gone. He was too late.
His chest was constricted on itself; he couldn't breathe. His mind was a confused web of half-thoughts. He didn't know if he was supposed to flee out of there or run all the way into the hallways that would take him to the command center where he knew Zarkon himself was planning the next step of the war. A war that the Galra had been winning from the moment they abducted Shiro again.
Was Lance supposed to fly away, call for backup, or was he supposed to stay and fight?
To fight against... The Champion himself, Lance guessed. Because that was not Shiro.
Shiro was kind, warm, always overcareful of his own strength, cautious of not hurting anyone, almost never fully relaxed with himself; with wide, beautiful gray eyes that made Lance feel right at home. The Champion, on the other hand, while occupying the same space was a sharp contrast from Shiro. The Champion looked cocksure, totally in control of his immense power and top-notch skills, comfortable in his borrowed skin. A predator that knew that nothing could hunt him down.
And his eyes... His eyes...
All Galra yellow. Cold and unforgiving.
Lance was having problems staying up. His legs felt like jello and about to collapse. For the first time ever his bayard felt more like a heavy burden than his weapon of defense, his arms unresponsive to the weight.
The Champion smirked in his direction and Lance still couldn't move. Because when he convinced all the other Paladins that he could enter the massive Galra spaceship and return back to the castle with Shiro, Lance thought it was going to be a rescue mission. He was going to find Shiro and then he was going to ask Am I too short for a stormtrooper? in a stupid voice and then they were going to run for one of the escape pods that Lance had previously prepared.
And now... And now he was too late.
Lance never thought he would ever meet the Champion. Yes, Shiro had talked about him once or twice, when the forgotten memories were back with vengeance, but Lance had thought, as he reassured Shiro, that it was all in the past. The Champion was dead, those days over, and they were going to win the war because they were the good guys, the heroes, and the Universe always had a way to correct itself even after 10 thousand years of mistakes and they were going to be happy.
Lance didn't know what to do now. Vaguely, he knew that he should be moving, running away from an opponent that he knew he couldn't beat. But escaping was impossible because that used to be Shiro. His Shiro.
Oh, God. He was late to save Shiro. What hope was left after losing him?
“Ah, my blue paladin,” The Champion said at last. In just a few strides he was towering over Lance, his face turned to the side, studying Lance up close.
Lance forced himself to breathe if only to ask in a fairly low voice.
“... Where's Shiro?”
The Champion sneered, the scar that Lance always had found cute over Shiro's nose now turning ugly in the face of his enemy. The Champion was still looking at him without blinking.
“He's gone. Haggar made sure of that this time. Finally! It feels good to be out for once without restrictions! Because let me tell you, he was a strong-willed fucker, always there making sure I was under his control. I really despised him.”
Lance's brain tried to process all the information that he already had figured out, and yet it felt like his heart was breaking all over again. Shiro, Shiro... His Shiro...
“...Gone?”
The Champion seemed amused by Lance's inability to form complete sentences. Lance couldn't care any less.
“Oooh, kitten. Don't worry. You still got me.”
Lance's breathing pattern stopped all at once.
“What...? What did you call me?”
The Champion laughed loudly, cruelly, moving his head from side to side as if he was explaining a joke.
“What? Do you really think that was him?”
Suddenly, The Champion pushed Lance against the wall at his back. His bayard fell to the floor (stupid, you let go of your weapon) and his head felt both numb and in overdrive (stupid, you're gonna die). A rollercoaster of memories flooded his mind, placing the dark and dangerous voice into pleasant moments. Remembering the way Shiro would always put an eye mask over his face first, how Shiro would behave every time they finished a rough session in bed as if he was making himself sure that he didn't badly hurt Lance, as if he was touching him for the first time in a while. (Stupid, stupid, stupid!)
“Shir-Shiro lo-loves—Shiro loves me,” Lance stuttered in the end, his mind way too dazed for anything else.
The Champion snorted while putting both of his arms on the wall, caging Lance between them.
“Yes, yes. He did. Blah, blah, blah. But I am your master, kitten. Don't dare to forget it.”
“No—No. That. That can't be... That's...”
“What? Crazy?!” The Champion laughed once more, apparently mocking all of Lance's suffering. “I was the one making all your dirty dreams come true, kitten. I was the one taking care of you. It took a while for him to catch up to what was going on but then he understood, really understood. Letting me out to be with you brought peace for both of us.”
Lance was breathless. Maybe he was crying but it was hard to tell when everything was spinning around him. Unfortunately, the Champion's yellow eyes were the only thing that offered him stability. Lance couldn't look away from them.
The Champion's human hand cupped Lance's face with a gentleness that Lance wasn't excepting. The touch was familiar and grounding even when it was also terrifying.
Then, with a soft and husky tone, the Champion asked:
“Who do you belong to, kitten?”
The simple and once-beloved question felt like a punch in his stomach. Lance was openly crying now, ugly and unrestricted. It took him a few moments to find his voice.
“No. No!”
The Champion growled. Suddenly, Lance's thighs were in the Champion's grip and he was being pulled up the wall. There was nothing sexual about the way that the Champion was taking on his weight, it was all about being close, an animalistic need of reclaiming a possession, and Lance hated that he could tell the difference even when it wasn't Shiro who was controlling his body.
“Don't give me that, now. You know the answer.”
“No.”
“Who do you belong to?”
“Sh-Shiro!”
The Champion snorted once more. His words were full of sharp intent and darkness.
“You are mine. Now, focus. What's my mission, kitten?”
Lance shook his head, still crying, denying an answer. The whole scenario felt so surreal that it took him a while to register the Champion's Galra hand cupping his neck in a weak grip, not stopping his air but the movement of his head. The Champion got closer to his face, his lips almost touching Lance's.
“Again. Don't make this more difficult, kitten. I know we can do it, just as always. Breathe, breathe,” The Champion's voice was still full of danger but now low, calming, and familiar; Lance took a deep breath, reacting to the command, his body still in sync with Shiro's. “Good, good. That's it. Now tell me... What's my mission, kitten?”
Lance was shaking so much that it was impossible to talk without stuttering, but he took another deep breath and forced himself to be calm. Lance needed himself to be calm.
“To mak—To make me feel go-od...”
The Champion smiled, satisfied.
“That's why your wish is in my command, kitten. That hadn't changed because I am your master. You are mine,” The Champion accommodated Lance's weight on his human hand, using his strong legs to help support Lance's. His Galra hand was delicately caressing his neck. “And I always take care of what it's mine. I knew you'd try to rescue him, that's why I ordered everyone to leave you alone, not to interfere with your silly mission of coming for him. Because I know you, kitten. I answer just to you.”
Lance blinked more tears out. No wonder Lance's tour over the heavily secured space warship had been so peaceful and uneventful. He thought he had made a good job avoiding everyone, he thought he was being the hero of the story. The Galra had been probably watching him and laughing at his naivety the whole time. Lance was so stupid.
He didn't know what to say so he chose not to talk. The Champion wasn't pleased.
“Kitten? Are you listening? I can give you everything. I am the greatest weapon ever created by the Galra empire. I command them, they need me. Just tell me, tell me what do you want? Do you want your precious Earth to be yours? To be safe, to be left untouched? I can give you that. I can. Do you want to visit the most beautiful planets, flying with your beloved Blue all over the Universe? Do you want that? Blue to be left alone, us to be left alone, exploring the galaxy together? Me, making you feel good all the time?”
Lance wasn't sure if he was understanding anything. The Champion seemed inviting and desperate all at once and Lance felt the rush of power that he normally felt when he was in bed with Shiro—with the Champion himself. The adrenaline and the expectations, the push and pull game in their power dynamic, made everything more exciting, only this time it was also terrifying.
But if Lance was going to die, he was going to die as a Paladin. Previous lover be fucked.
Lance's fingers shook as he moved them until they were holding the prosthetic wrist of the hand that was still on his neck. His gaze sure for once, even with the silent tears, going as far as pressing his legs together, trapping The Campion against his body just as much as he was holding Lance. The Champion's lips were slack at the view of Lance finally recognizing him, giving him all his present attention.
When The Champion talked again his voice continued to be dark and husky but now it also sounded hopeful. His prosthetic fingers lightly caressed Lance's pulse point.
“Look at those eyes. Yes. Tell me. What do you want, kitten?”
“I want you to help me win the war. I want you to betray everyone and win the war for me.”
Lance was expecting the rage that his request was going to bring. He thought he was going to be rudely thrown to the floor and then beaten to death. He wasn't expecting yellow eyes to close, hiding from him, frown and lips both twisted with anger and sadness. It was a shock the gentle way the Champion let go of him, and also the way that the greatest weapon created by the Galra Empire waited until he was a few meters separated from Lance to start screaming his frustration.
Lance was frozen on his spot by the wall. He had the mind to retrieve his bayard from where it had felt but other than that he couldn't move, all too distracted by the way the Champion was pacing, venting his anger. He looked like a furious tiger in a cage, all fluid movement and obvious strength.
Lance was sure that once the Champion calmed down a little he was going to die. The Champion was going to kill Lance. That was a fitting end. He didn't understand why his heart was breaking all over again.
The Champion was still yelling and shouting all kinds of incoherent things, obviously full of rage. “I hate you! I hate you!” He screamed to the ceiling of the ship, looking at God knew what. “What?! You know him better than me, is that it?! I fucking hate you!” He shouted the loudest.
As if flipping a switch, the Champion stopped pacing and yelling. He turned over to where Lance was standing and the most disappointed and broken face that Lance had ever seen focused on him all of his attention.
This is it, Lance thought. This is when he kills me.
“Come on,” The Champion said, instead. He took Lance's arm forcing him to march with him. Even when the grip was rough, it wasn't painful. Lance's mind was spinning once more.
“It's okay to die like this,” Lance said, calm and resigned. He didn't realize he had said it out loud until the Champion sneered in his direction.
“Of course it is. There is no other ending. He was right. I fucking hate him.”
Lance didn't know who he was talking about.
“Who?”
“You stay here, kitten.”
Lance looked at the door that the Champion had opened and felt a wave of confusion take over him. That was the escaping pod he had prepared to use once he would have rescued Shiro. The Champion didn't bother explaining anything to him, though, he just put him inside the pod and secured him into the pilot chair.
“Once I give you the signal, you fly out of here. You understand, kitten?”
No. Actually, Lance didn't understand absolutely anything.
“What? What do you...?”
The Champion interrupted him, hurriedly. “What's my mission?”
Lance frowned, answering in autopilot. “To make me feel good.”
“Because you're mine. And I always take care of what's mine.”
Suddenly, the Champion's face turned soft, almost gentle, smiling with a sadness that made Lance's heart hurt for him. Once again, Lance couldn't breathe. The Champion looked so much like Shiro smiling like that. It would have fooled Lance if it wasn't for the yellow eyes.
“You will fly away when I tell you to. Okay?” His voice was still dark, still dangerous, but comforting and full of meaning. Lance couldn't help paying attention, obeying him, loving the tone even when everything else was numb inside of him.
Lance nodded, still confused even when he understood the order. He had so many doubts, but he couldn't settle on one question in particular so he said nothing. (When the Champion was going to kill him? When was it gonna end? You are so stupid.)
Impossibly, the Champion seemed defeated even when everything in him screamed that he was powerful and dangerous. It was an odd look. Inexplicably, Lance's eyes started tearing up again. His heart was beating a desperate rhythm inside his chest.
“Tell me again. Do you understand?”
“Yes.”
“Good kitty.”
The Champion moved to close the pod's door from the outside but he stopped at the last second to look at Lance once more.
“And, my kitten?” He smiled. “I'm yours too.”
He closed the door. Lance released a choked sob, all full of sadness and confused grief.
Lance didn't know how many minutes went away while he was crying, but soon enough, Shiro's dark voice—the Champion's voice resonated through the com in the pod.
“Now, Lance! Now! Go!”
And so, half blind with tears, Lance started the ship and flew away.
Away from the most important ship of the Galra Empire, what with Zarkon and all his awful minions in it. Away from Shiro, away from the Champion. Away from being a hero. Away from happiness and hope.
It felt like he was flying away from his life itself.
Out of nowhere, his pod started shaking almost uncontrollably. Lance had to actually concentrate all of his broken attention on his flying so he didn't lose control. It took him a while, but the moment he felt that the little spaceship could fly again without much of his help he turned his head to look behind.
And then he was shocked to pieces when he saw the most heavily protected warship of the Galra blowing up, in complete silence and spectacular explosions at his back. The size of it was so massive that the destruction looked more like a supernova exploding than a Galra-made ship being destroyed.
Lance couldn't breathe again, lungs screaming at him and yet his body felt frozen and unresponsive. Numbly, he wondered if he would be capable of ever breathing again. It didn't feel likely, what with his heart being destroyed in the same explosion that made the paladins win the war.
Because your wish is my command.