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Keith would like to state, just for the fucking record, that he hates the game “Truth or Dare.”
Ignoring the fact that he’d never had any actual friends to play it with as a child (which meant he’d only ever played it with strangers and, er, bullies, which never went well), the whole premise just seems so shallow and stupid. Having to answer a (most likely embarrassing) question about yourself truthfully to get out of doing something stupid (or vice versa) seems far too close to blackmail for Keith’s liking, and Keith, being a mostly-sensible human being, wants to stay as far away from being blackmailed as possible. Truth or Dare goes entirely against that—it supplies blackmail information whilst also simultaneously engaging in blackmail. Keith doesn’t need to know information like that and he doesn’t want to give information like that either.
It’s fucking stupid.
So, the logical next question would be: if Keith finds this game so stupid and dangerous for himself, why had he decided to play it with his hyperactive teammates two hours ago?
Well, Keith can give two reasons. The first is that he never shies from a challenge, and Lance had implied very loudly that if Keith declined his invitation to play along, the entire universe would think him a loser who was “boring and responsible.” Keith clearly could not let that stand.
His second reason is perhaps a bit more mature: he wants to bond with the team more. Keith knows that they have to stay connected together on a mental level if they want to form Voltron flawlessly, and he knows that voluntarily trusting each other is a major part of that. A stupid game like this—a game that’s designed to make everyone divulge secrets and do silly things for each other—would surely help with that…right?
With the benefit of retrospect, Keith can promptly and confidently say now that no, no it fucking does not help with that. All Truth or Dare does is get him and his friends into awkward and embarrassing situations where they simultaneously laugh at each other’s pain and cry at their own. But, the laughing-at-others experience is short-lived, as Keith has come to find now, an hour after they’ve finished, wherein he is mercilessly cursing himself for admitting what seemed like an inconsequential secret.
But, of course, for Lance (Lance, why is it always Lance?) it hadn’t been inconsequential—or, at least, it hadn’t been inconsequential enough for him to forget about it, like he should’ve done, because he’s standing in front of Keith now. And talking about it.
To be clear: Keith is in his own room, sitting on his own bed, and Lance is hovering over him, grin bright and cocky, talking to him about the fact that he (Keith) has never kissed anyone.
That’s the conversation they’re having right now. Oh, god.
“It’s like—I’m surprised, but also not really, because you’re you,” Lance is saying, and Keith can feel his temple beginning to throb. “But you were just so dark and mysterious back at the Garrison that, like, every girl—and a few guys too, if we’re being completely honest—wanted to be with you. I thought you’d have a different person in your bed every night.”
“Yeah, well, we’re not all arrogant idiots that flirt with everything in sight,” Keith replies snappishly, folding in on himself. Why are they still having this conversation?
“See!” Lance cries, pointing dramatically at Keith, who jumps. “That’s why I’m also not surprised. Like, of course nobody would want to kiss you once they saw your actual personality.”
Wow. Okay, that one stung a little. Keith’s not really insecure, per se, but he has some boundaries that he’d rather not be crossed, and… Well, such a blatant insult to his very personality is bound to hurt a little.
That hurt must be showing a bit on his face, because Lance falters almost immediately after speaking and tries to backtrack.
“Okay, that came out wrong. I didn’t mean it like—that. I just meant that you’re not very social.”
“Of course that’s what you meant,” Keith says wryly, standing from his position on the edge of the bed and forcing Lance to take a few steps back to make room for him. He folds his arms. “Now, if you’re done making fun of me for my lack of experience, why don’t you leave so I can get some sleep for once?”
“Wait, what, no!” Lance whines, even as Keith places his hands on Lance’s shoulders and makes to steer him towards the door. “Wait—I came to offer some help!”
“Some help? With what?” Keith releases Lance’s shoulders and regards him sceptically.
“With your lack of experience!” Lance supplies eagerly, eyes shining with renewed brightness. Keith blinks, confused.
“How can you help me with that?”
Lance looks so excited that he might burst. “Kissing lessons!”
Keith stares. Lance’s arms are grandly spread, and his smile is wide. Keith continues staring. He stares for a solid thirty seconds, long enough for Lance’s smile to grow forced and his arms limp.
Keith finally decides to spare Lance further suffering.
“Kissing lessons,” He repeats, deadpan. “From…you, I’m guessing?”
Lance nods eagerly. Keith closes his eyes and wishes for death.
“Lance,” Keith begins, opening his eyes and clapping both of his hands on Lance’s shoulders. “I know this may be hard for you to believe, considering you’re a fucking narcissist, but let me make this clear: I do not want to kiss you.”
“As if I want to kiss you!” Lance sputters immediately, though he’s turned a shade of red that Keith finds rather interesting. He shakes Keith off of him and crosses his arms moodily. “I’m offering my services for completely philanthropic purposes!”
“Philanthropic.” Keith lets out a long-suffering sigh, pinching the bridge of his nose and falling backwards onto the bed. It’s literally 2 AM. Keith does not want to deal with this—Lance’s plans may be stupid all the time, sure, but this one is downright idiotic. Not to mention totally unnecessary. Keith didn’t ask to be a charity case.
“Yes! Philanthropic.” Lance sets himself down next to Keith with a bounce, craning his neck to peer at Keith’s face. Keith continues staring at the ceiling. “I’m in a helping mood, no need to thank me.”
“Lance—“ Keith sits up suddenly with a frustrated exhale, turning towards Lance. “Look. I don’t need your help, and I don’t want it. I am perfectly fine with continuing never having kissed someone, and I certainly don’t want to get lessons from you—“
“Oh my god, you’re so serious all the time!” Lance groans, cutting Keith off (rudely) and flapping his arms in indignation. “It’ll just be fun, okay? Like—what, are you afraid you’ll be so bad that it’ll make me sick or something?”
“What—no!” Keith sputters, nettled. “I’m not afraid of being bad, I just don’t want to kiss you!”
“Why not, then? Do you—“ Lance gasps, “Do you not think I’ll be a good kisser? Keith, that is blasphemous, honestly, the stories the girls at home could tell you—“
“That’s not what I’m thinking either, you idiot!” Keith bursts out, clutching at the sheets in frustration. “I just—It’s weird! It’s weird to get kissing lessons from one of your—teammates.” As soon as he says this, a small voice in the back of his mind pipes up and tells Keith that if he’s resorting to the “it’s just weird” reasoning, he’s running out of any logical basis to refuse this. He ignores this voice.
“’Teammates,’” Lance scoffs, rolling his eyes at Keith. “It’s only weird if you let it be, Keith. What I’m offering is purely going to benefit you. Wouldn’t it be nice to get rid of the stress of a bad first kiss?”
Keith can feel Lance closing in on him, like a shark, because he honestly can’t think of a reasonable way to get out of this. Maybe it’s because he’s extremely exhausted right now, but the easiest option at the moment seems to be just…going with whatever scheme Lance has cooked up.
What’s the worst that could happen? Lance laughs at his awful kissing skills. Keith has a feeling that Lance would do that whether or not he ever actually experiences Keith’s kissing anyways. So. Not much to be lost, he supposes…
“Fine,” Keith relents, and is met with a sounding whoop from Lance. He huffs out his amusement. “But—god, if this takes more than an hour, I’m probably just going to pass out.”
“Psht, I’m an awesome teacher,” Lance says, smiling sunnily as he repositions himself on Keith’s bed. “You’ll be an expert in twenty minutes, tops.”
Keith doesn’t reply, but obligingly shifts himself so that he’s facing Lance head-on. Lance is sitting criss-cross—like a child—and Keith is on his knees.
So, he’s actually just accepted kissing lessons from Lance fucking McClain. This should be good.
“Hmm, actually, this position is no good,” Lance says distractedly, scanning the bed and Keith in turn. Keith looks at himself, mildly annoyed, wondering what could be wrong. “Let’s—here, Keith, lean against the bedframe.”
“Lean against the—“ Lance is already forcefully pushing Keith’s shoulders towards the bedframe, and Keith scrambles to regain control of himself and shake Lance off. Shooting and annoyed look at Lance, Keith primly settles himself against the bedframe, crossing his legs.
“No, legs out,” Lance instructs, and though Keith’s over-exaggerated sigh speaks irritation, he complies.
Lance claps his hands together. “Perfect!” And then he crawls forward and settles himself on top of Keith’s legs—or, more accurately, he traps Keith’s legs against his own and plants his ass way too close to Keith’s crotch for Keith’s liking.
“Woah, hey, uh, do you have to--?” Keith stammers, increasingly uncomfortable and fearful that he’ll break out into a blush. He hadn’t factored this in.
“Yes, Keith, this is important,” Lance insists, settling his hands on Keith’s shoulder. “Sets the mood, and makes for greater access.”
I’m probably going to die, Keith thinks, willing himself to keep his wits about him. He’s never—he’s never been this close to a boy before (of course he hasn’t, he was the antisocial freak back home), and he might be realising a split-second too late that, saviour of the universe or not, he’s still a sexually frustrated seventeen-year-old gay boy underneath it all. And now he has Lance, who is very much a boy (and is also, um, not straight), sitting on his fucking lap. Oh god.
Speaking of Lance, he’s talking. Keith should probably listen.
“So, I want you to start, so I can see just how bad you are and what we need to work on,” Lance explains. Keith freezes. He has to start?! He’d thought that Lance would go straight in, cocky as he is, and Keith would be able to glean a little from that first, but—oh god, Keith thinks, feeling a slight frenzy rising in him. His arms, his arms, he’s about to kiss someone, what does he do with his arms??
Lance must notice Keith’s sudden panic, because he laughs a little and adds, “Don’t worry right now. I literally just want to see what level you’re at. We can fix everything later.”
“Easy for you to say,” Keith mutters, struggling to sit up a little straighter so he can properly look Lance in the face. He’s going to regret this.
Taking a deep breath, Keith closes his eyes, leans forward, tells his insecurities to fuck off, and promptly smacks his lips against Lance’s.
And…keeps them there.
And keeps them there.
And keeps them there.
“Um,” Lance mumbles around Keith’s lips, “You have to—you have to move your lips.”
Keith pulls away from Lance with a pop, already flaming with embarrassment. “I told you I didn’t know what I was doing!” he says, voice high-pitched. “You’re the one who told me to go first!”
“Yeah, that was—“ Lance laughs, scratching his head and looking at Keith with amusement. “That was fucking awful, to be honest, wow. I didn’t know you were that bad.”
“Shut up.” Keith wishes he could sink into the void.
Lance is still snickering, and Keith would throw a pillow at him if it didn’t mean shifting his position. He waits, annoyed, until Lance stops finding this oh-so-humorous.
“Okay—I think I have enough information to go on now. Mainly that you know absolutely nothing,” Lance finally says after a moment, still openly grinning at Keith. Keith’s hands twitch with the urge to shove Lance off of him, the bastard.
That is, of course, until Lance slides one of his hands farther up onto Keith’s—onto Keith’s neck. Keith just barely manages to halt the involuntary breath he wants to draw. Okay. This is—fine. It’s fine. It’s just a touch. But Lance’s hand is warm on his neck…
Lance (thankfully?) keeps his other hand securely on Keith’s shoulder as he leans forward, offering Keith a sly smirk the closer he gets.
“Just…” Lance is so close to Keith that Keith can feel the ghosting of his breath. He’s whispering. “Pay attention.”
And then, all at once, Lance’s lips are on his and they’re—soft. Of fucking course they’re soft. If Lance cares about anything, it’s his face, and Keith knows for a fact that the boy puts lip balm on every morning when he wakes up and every night before he goes to bed. His lips are…so soft. And he’s—yes, he’s moving them. He’s pecking Keith’s lips over and over again, despite the fact that Keith’s still staying utterly still, his brain going haywire trying to capture this sensation and file away information at the same time.
After about ten seconds of this merciless, closed-mouth pecking, Lance slowly begins to merge each kiss—his lips are dragging along Keith’s, now, sending shots of excitement throughout Keith’s veins. Keith can feel his body responding, even now, to such minimal touches and god he’s been alone in space for too fucking long. If even Lance can do this to him, he’s fucked.
Keith honestly still isn’t sure what he’s supposed to be doing, but he can feel the stream of thoughts trickling out of his brain to be replaced by a warm, buzzing, and entirely instinctual feeling. Is kissing instinctual? Keith can do instinctual. If he just stops thinking, then—
Lance breaks off the kiss. “You’re supposed to kiss me back, Keith, oh my god,” Lance says, laughing despite the very obvious red dusting of his cheeks. His hands are tense where they touch Keith; Keith can feel it. Interesting…
“You stopped right when I had a breakthrough,” Keith tells him honestly, rubbing his lips together curiously and feeling a strange jolt of electricity when he tastes something fruity.
“Oh, I did?” Lance looks surprised for a moment, but then he grins again. “Well, show me what you’ve learned then, lovely student.”
“Don’t call me student. Students and teachers kissing is bad.”
Lance rolls his eyes, but doesn’t have time to form a response before Keith has caught him by the collar of his shirt and jerked him forward. Keith closes his eyes and presses his lips to Lance’s again, determined.
It’s kind of awkward at first, considering Lance seems bent on pretending he’s never kissed someone before, so it’s all up to Keith to get things started.
They stay still for a couple seconds, lips pressed loosely together, before Keith summons his resolve and slowly attempts to do the pecking-thing Lance did. He kisses Lance, trying to line his lips squarely up with Lance’s—their noses bump, but Keith kissed him, so he’s calling it a win. Feeling a little more confident, he opens his eyes and moves his lips across Lance’s—kissing the left corner, the middle, the right corner, his top lip, bottom lip, every part of Lance’s lips he can think of. His eyes are half-shut now, and Lance has completely closed his. He looks content, and there’s the ghost of a smile on his lips.
Keith’s feeling pretty confident by now. He stops the incessant pecking and moulds his kisses together, dragging his lips across Lance’s and closing around them, just slightly. It’s still innocent; it’s a perfectly delicate kiss, and Keith feels more like he’s catching snowflakes and getting brief tastes rather than the intensity he’d expected. It’s nice.
The flavour of fruit has grown to feel natural on Keith’s mouth by the time Lance gently presses a hand to his chest and Keith breaks off the kiss. He leans away and blinks, coming back to himself.
Lance looks very pleased.
“Nice, Keith” he says, nodding enthusiastically. “That was definitely improvement. I knew I was an awesome teacher.”
Keith rolls his eyes, trying to subtly regain his breath. He’d been so focused on that singular point in the universe—the point where his and Lance’s lips had connected—that he’d forgotten everything else, forgotten to breathe. He makes a mental note to remind himself that using your nose whilst kissing will be helpful.
“Now,” Lance continues, clapping his hands together. His eyes are gleaming. “Let’s get to the fun stuff.”
Keith jerks his head back, staring at Lance incredulously. That was a kissing lesson! He’d passed! Wasn’t he finished? “Wait—but I thought that was it! I just kissed you. You even said it was good,” he says, definitely not pouting a little.
Lance rolls his eyes and pats Keith on his head with a wise air. Keith stares at him murderously. “Ah, inexperienced one, that may be what you think, but it is not so.” Lance swipes his tongue across his lips and Keith’s eyes latch onto the gesture, widening. “What I’m about to show you is the real reason people like kissing. Ten times more fun than what we just did. La mejor parte.”
Keith’s breath catches at the Spanish, and he swallows, ignoring the acceleration of his heart. So that had definitely affected him. He’ll have to return to that later. But, for now, his main concern is that they’re still doing this. Actually, scratch that. His main concern is that he doesn’t mind that they’re still doing this.
“Okay. F-Fine. Show me,” Keith says, and some of Lance’s devilishly playful attitude fades away at the tone. The atmosphere becomes heavier. Keith still tastes fruit.
Lance nods, slipping his hand once again around Keith’s neck and sliding forward.
“I’m gonna need more, uh, leverage for this,” Lance murmurs. He secures his arms around Keith’s waist. Keith can feel the temperature rising with every one of Lance’s movements, and he stays still.
Lance takes a deep breath. “Um. Try to copy me. And—“ He glances to the side and Keith realises all at once that Lance is nervous. “If you want to stop, tell me.”
Keith is utterly nonplussed, but that doesn’t matter now, because Lance has hesitatingly pressed his lips to Keith’s. Again. Keith dimly registers that this is the third kiss they’ve shared tonight—Lance has stolen his first kiss, his second kiss, and is now stealing his third right in front of him.
Keith doesn’t really care.
Lance is doing the same thing he’d done before—kissing him shortly all over his mouth, only this time they’re both active participants, and that…changes things a bit. Keith’s able to trace Lance’s lips with his, slowly, following each brief peck Lance gives him with one of his own. It’s harder to target areas, but Keith’s not all that concerned—their kisses have merged together by now, headier, fuller, and Keith’s arms itch for something to hold onto.
Lance releases Keith’s lips for a moment, eyes still closed, and exhales softly. “Try to keep up,” he says, and his voice is soft and smooth and low, and Keith couldn’t have replied even if Lance hadn’t immediately captured his lips again after speaking.
They go back to the long, dragged-out kisses for a moment before Lance does something unexpected—he pulls at Keith’s bottom lip, just slightly, biting hard enough for Keith to notice but not hard enough to be painful. Keith’s eyes fly open, but he doesn’t pull away—he’s not sure what to do. He looks helplessly to Lance, but Lance has his eyes determinedly shut, even as his hand slides from Keith’s neck down to his shoulder, and then his arms.
Lance releases Keith’s lip, kissing again, but Keith notices that he’s fitting their lips together better, angling his head more accurately. Keith hesitantly raises his arms, looping them around Lance’s neck. Lance starts, pulling away a little for a moment and opening his eyes. Keith looks back at him.
“T-Tell me,” Lance begins, but his voice is hoarse. He swallows and tries again. “Tell me if you want me to stop.”
That’s the second time…Where is this hesitance coming from? Keith wonders, thinking back to barely ten minutes ago when Lance was bragging about his kissing skills and convincing Keith to let him give lessons. Why has that changed? What are they about to do? It’s just—kissing, isn’t it?
Keith is about to voice these concerns when Lance leans in again, but this time it’s far less languid. Lance isn’t wasting any time. Keith feels something wet and warm prodding at his lips and his brain goes reeling when he realises oh my god that’s LANCE’S TONGUE.
Keith is so shocked that his body acts entirely on instinct and he opens his mouth, allowing Lance to lick his way in. Lance moans at the deeper contact and that sets Keith’s blood on fire. He’s not even thinking of this as a learning opportunity when he tightens his hold around Lance’s neck, levying himself upwards so that he can properly respond. Lance lets out a surprised noise in the back of his throat, groping to accentuate himself to Keith’s new position, and Keith soundly abandons all thought when he lets his own tongue stray into Lance’s mouth and—oh. Oh. So that’s why everybody loves kissing.
It’s like—honestly, it’s like nothing Keith has ever experienced before. All they’re doing is kissing, but Keith feels like it’s much more. It’s not like pressing a square mouth against a square mouth and moving it around, like they had been doing—that’s a part of it, a groundwork; it’s important, but this is more. When Lance kisses, really kisses, it’s like he’s talking. He’s communicating something with every swirl of his tongue, every intake of breath, every touch against Keith’s skin—and he is touching Keith, god, now that Lance truly has him it seems like he can’t get enough of him. He’s moving his hands everywhere.
Keith is dizzy. He feels enveloped, completely, with everything that is Lance, and it’s shocking and a little scary how much he absolutely loves this. It’s more concerning that he wants more. They kiss, trade breaths, saliva, their noses are bumping together, and still Keith wants more more more. His tongue must be halfway down Lance’s throat with the excitement and intensity with which he’s kissing, but if Lance minds at all he doesn’t show it.
“Hey—Lance,” Keith mumbles around Lance’s lips, lifting a hand to lightly touch Lance’s hair. Lance breaks apart the kiss to look at Keith, and the look is hazy, blurred at the edges. Keith feels a pang through his chest as he looks. “Do most kisses feel like this?”
Lance huffs out a laugh, and even though his eyes are dilated and dark, it’s gentle.
“No. Most kisses definitely do not feel like this.” He wrinkles his nose. “Usually I hate saliva. I, uh, didn’t this time.”
Keith cringes, but it’s good-natured. He kisses Lance again while he considers his response. “I never thought I’d like someone’s tongue down my throat. But you’re talented.”
“Oooh, talk dirty to me,” Lance mocks, still smiling as he leans forwards and rubs his nose playfully against Keith’s cheek. Keith’s laugh is light and embarrassingly breathy.
“So, does this mean you can—“ Keith pauses, a flicker of uncertainty crossing his face. He licks his lips. “Does this mean you can keep…teaching me?”
Lance raises his head quickly, and Keith’s afraid he might’ve crossed a boundary. Lance stares at him, looking incredibly bemused.
“You want me to?”
“Do I want you t—Yes, Lance, yes. Yes. I want you to,” Keith laughs in exasperation, wondering how Lance could’ve missed this crucial information throughout the past ten minutes. Did he not seem overly-enthusiastic? “I very much want you to.”
Lance’s smile is breath-taking, and Keith takes a moment to marvel at the fact that him wanting to kiss Lance had made Lance this happy. He’s golden. Beautiful. Keith knows that that isn’t just the adrenaline talking.
“Well, then,” Lance says, pinching Keith’s collar between his fingers and dragging him forward slowly. “I can teach you all night, if you want me to.”
“God, that was lame.”
Lance laughs again, eyes already slipping closed as he goes to kiss Keith again, but he stops about two centimetres from Keith’s lips. He opens his eyes then, suddenly looking panicked.
“Um—wait, but, but first I think I should tell you,” Lance begins, and Keith opens his eyes too, miffed at the sudden change in tone. “I sort of—manipulated you? Not in a bad way, though,” he adds hurriedly, seeing Keith’s alarmed look. “I mean—not in the way you think. I kind of…came in here just because I wanted to kiss you? Like, it wasn’t—it wasn’t philanthropic, or whatever I said earlier. I just wanted to kiss you. It was—selfish. And I feel kind of bad. But. I just wanted you to know.”
Keith is silent for a moment after Lance’s babbling ceases. Lance is fidgeting nervously, darting looks away from Keith and then back again, and Keith looks at him and feels like he’s falling.
Into what? He’s not sure. But he fully intends on finding out.
“God, you’re an idiot,” Keith says, and he promptly pulls Lance down again. “Shut up and teach me.”
Lance looks like there’s nothing he’d rather do.