Work Text:
Allura finds herself unable to manage a proper inhale. Her chest expands and her lungs fill with a decent amount of air to keep herself going but she feels that empty bubble in the center of her torso indicating she did not fully inhale. It was better than nothing, she tried to reason.
Her hands tremble as they reach forward and gently grasp either side of the fallen man at her knees. She faintly hears her breath rush out past her lips, strangled and weak, as her eyes desperately stare at his still chest.
Ancients, please.
“Your breathing keeps going out of control in these longer sparring matches, you should strengthen your lungs a bit more.”
Allura shakily sucked in a breath before replying to her opponent, her smug and not out of breath opponent. He stood upright, barely moving, as he looked on at her bent over form using her staff like a crutch. She quickly reached to tuck stray hair behind her ear before standing upright like him. Her chest burned from not enough oxygen but she was determined to silence her struggling now that he had pointed it out. She could have her own pride wounded after all, confound her.
“What do you suggest then?”
He brushed his signature forelock away from his eyes and flashed a sharp grin, eyes sparkling with mirth. A telling look that she was about get another poke for fun. She enjoyed the way he tried to encourage her if she were to be honest.
“Well, trying to breathe normally should be a good starting place.”
Her left hand inches close to that forelock and she focuses on the feel of the coarse hair strands against her fingertips.
Repeating a massive inhale like earlier, she slowly builds up towards that point she wanted to reach inside her lungs.
“Count slowly and do allow yourself a steady breath.”
Finally, the bubble gently gives way in her chest and air rushes to fill its space. The expanse of her chest feels lighter as well and she relishes the sensation as the burning fades.
An exhale never felt so good as it did after breathing in right now. Her head felt clearer as she repeated the breathing cycle again. Finally, she felt better prepared and not barely put together.
Releasing the lock of hair, she ran her fingers slowly up the familiar collar of his armor before it gave way to the soft skin of his neck.
He always would tilt his head before they interacted. It was a slight adjustment but enough of a change for her to take notice when she first approaches or they meet each other halfway. She never understood why until Coran pointed out the gesture.
A Galra would never show vulnerability to someone they did not trust. It was a greeting the Galra people used commonly back in times of peace, forgotten or ignored now by the militant masses which then bled into the common folk. It would have last been used around the time of the last alliance made with the Galra by King Alfor.
The honor given was a pleasant surprise, a surprise she took in stride.
When he next showed her his neck, she mimicked him.
His eyes widened significantly.
She felt her stomach drop in worry when they stood frozen like this for several more seconds. Did she offend him? Perhaps her neck was tilted too far for a modest expression and he did not know what to make of their socializing now.
Before her mind could travel further down this road of worries, his shadow was upon her. That large yet gentle hand, which hardly ever reached out, was now guiding her chin up. His eyes were shimmering with a curious and maybe even eager twinkle.
Her stomach no longer felt as it did just moments ago. It now fluttered with a new energy, full of excitement and hope. Yet she was still flustered over the initial awkward pause and could not look directly at him.
When his face drew nearer to hers, however, she found it hard to avoid his piercing gold-navy gaze. He stopped at the edge of what was considered an appropriate distance between people of their ranking without a defined relationship. Her eyes finally locked with his and she found herself able to relax further, after which was when he moved again, pressing their foreheads together.
She could scarcely breathe no matter the effort she ordered from herself. His joking tone of voice could be heard in her head going, "you know you have to breathe, right?" It was hard to focus any energy elsewhere than this moment, even on breathing unfortunately. Coran never mentioned this particular greeting, she thought to herself as he finally retracted his forehead from hers.
When they locked eyes again, the edges of lilac lips pulled up into an actual smile. She did not hold back a quiet laugh once she thought about how worked up she got earlier. Had she kept her gaze on him a little longer, he had blinked slowly as another subtle gesture of trust as he looked on with an affectionate expression.
Her hand continued to trace up to his jawline. The basic structure of his face was more Altean than Galra but as they reached his ears, the long tips and sharp lobes could not have been more Galran. She felt her lips tug up as she lightly grasped one of them.
His teeth nipped at the cartilage just before the tip of her ear, eliciting a startled noise. As he lathed his coarse tongue gently over the same spot, however, she could not stop a croon from building in her throat. Altean ears were rather sensitive to touch and even considered a private body part, hence the suprise. A burning sensation started in her navel as she leaned into him.
Familiar hands at her hips, she turned to him and offered a shy smile as her hands laced behind his head. His ears moved up and down in subtle jerks as they picked up on every little sound. Reaching up slowly so as not to startle him, she held the tip of one ear in fascination. It quickly twitched against her fingertips before stilling once she proved her grip would stay soft.
Tilting their heads in sync, soft lips pressed together as they breathed in an increasingly less controlled manner. When he started to lean down further, her ears burned with excitement.
Lips pursing, her hand descends past his throat after thumbing the collar of his shirt. The cool armor under her skin provided a semblance of comfort and familiarity until it abruptly cracked into a jumble of tattered cloth.
Cool was replaced with a sickly heat as her fingers gingerly ran along the edges of contusions. They were beautiful from an artistic perspective, splotches of blue riddled with flecks of burnt orange. She absentmindedly compared the usually flawless lavender skin to what was before her eyes right now.
When he first removed his armor, Allura frankly did not have a clue what to expect. She theorized his skin to be rough---considering his heritage---yet when her hands first pressed into his chest, the skin under her palms were smooth like her own.
Running down along the middle of his back was a patch of skin thicker and tougher with darker purple ridges, similar to scales, which gradually blended into the surrounding soft skin. His scars were not as many as she expected yet she knew the damage was not just skin-deep. Her fingers traced each faded shape slowly and thoughtfully as if to offer a prayer.
Looking up at his face, she smiled without hesitation to assure him she was not repulsed. Drawing herself back up, she was met with equally sweet, loving touches and kisses along her body. His hands, ever so careful, followed along her curves slowly.
An energy stirred to life, humming in silent song as the two grew more fervid with touching.
Her marks began to glow as her pleasure built and when it began to whelm her, his own stirred awake in response. As his marks glowed, his sharp claws lightly poked and scratched at her skin. They never punctured her skin---his fear of harming her was still there---but she did not mull over the thought for her trust in him never wavered in spite of his self-doubt.
She soon found his lips at her neck as he rumbled and embraced her trembling form as they rubbed against each other. His form emanated raw energy, spilling in great waves. Her own energy swirled against his in sensations like fire created by lightning. He shuddered and reached out to lace their fingers together as he whispered praises into her skin, his fangs grazing so delicately that she almost missed it.
They had cried each other names before but never did it feel so connected, so harmonious as it did just now. With marks glowing and energy thrumming, she was tenderly held as he uttered her name into her shoulder.
Opening her eyes, she looked on in fascination as his brow’s crease disappeared and he went completely lax. He immediately asked, in a hushed tone, if she felt fine. She never felt better, she was eager to lather praise just as much as he did. Despite the loosening embrace of his arms, he refused to move from where he was---as if shielding her, an instinctive behavior the Galra never ignored with those they cared for.
She looked on as his eyelids fluttered shut and his head lolled to the side of hers against the pillow. Toned muscles relaxed and her own protectiveness reared its head as she realized how light and frail he felt at total relaxation. This display of trust made her heart swell as she took in his dozing features while her arms wrapped around him as she vowed never to leave him in alone such vulnerability. As if to seal her silent promise, she peppered his brow and cheek with kisses as they lay tangled in her bedsheets.
Allura’s hand went still at the sudden wetness in her hand. She stared at her now blue-stained fingers, distantly aware it was blood.
When her other hand detected the fluid dripping onto it as well, she snapped out of it. Her heart began to pound again but this time she maintained her breathing.
“Please, please…” she spoke as if coaxing the wounds. Her hands felt heavier as the blood dried on them.
“Please,” she hiccuped.
Her head fell forward and she grasped his broad shoulders propped against her thighs. The muscles underneath her palms should have shifted around organically as he responded to the pressure of her fingers against the joints.
He remained motionless. Too still, too quiet. No witty remark dancing on his tongue or just a knowing smirk on his lips.
Allura desperately counted in her head. Lungs burning again, she hiccuped painfully hard. Her hands shook but she made no more effort to still them.
“Please, please, please…!”
Her new mantra grew in volume but fell on unresponsive ears.
Blood roaring in her ears, shoulders sagged as her hands moved to support his neck.
His skin was clammy, she noted.
Shuddering as she inhaled, Allura looked at his closed eyes.
“Come back for me,” she whispered.
Sometimes she found him wandering the Castle of Lions at late hours. He was, if not walking, usually in one of the rooms with an outside view of space, eyes distant and posture slack. On some of these nights, the man shed his armor which made him look only more vulnerably open as he gazed up at the stars.
He consistently would apologize for waking her despite being so quiet. Eyes that were hazy just seconds ago would then dart around anxiously, the crease in his brow returning to its usual spot and his broad shoulders slip back up into a more defensive posture.
She soon learned this was not a reaction to her, it was as natural as breathing for him to err on the side of caution and occasionally with a sizable dash of anxiety. Either way, said demeanor which he reverted to always made her feel pangs of sympathy and a rush of protectiveness.
Her vocal reply was usually for him to scoot over and let her join him, leaning against his shoulder as they then proceeded to chatter about anything that came to mind.
Other times, her hands grasped his own and gently tugged up, coaxing him to his feet. She would then lead him back to one of their rooms, normally hers, to urge him to rest.
He usually hesitated when she invited him to lie down, eyes darting around before locking gazes with her. Some nights though, he would be so exhausted that he would not skip a beat and clambered onto the soft and warm mattress right beside her. On those nights, she liked to press her palm against his sternum and massage the area to help him relax further---Allura noticed it also eased his anxiety.
She would then lean in to kiss his brow, promising to not leave, talking back and forth until they drifted into slumber.
Every time, without fail, Lotor was the last to fall asleep. He always gave her a response, despite her usually drifting off by the time he finished talking.
He always replied.
Without fail, without hesitation, he always replied to her.
She stared expectantly at his lips.
The deafening silence very nearly broke her remaining ounces of strength.
Bending over him, Allura’s body was racked by quiet sobs. Her jaw clenched as she tried not to release the noises clammering in her throat.
She moved her hands to just above the broken pieces of his armor's chest plate, mindful of how heavy they were against his limp frame.
Allura sniffled hard, with irritation at the feeling of congestion and the mess her tears made. Her throat burned from trying to keep quiet while her lips trembled.
Before she could reach up and wipe away the offending fluid from her face, a hand reached up and tucked a strand of hair behind her ear.
She froze.
Blinking rapidly in disbelief, her eyes widened as they flicked back and forth from the hand to the small grin of its owner’s face. Her chest's tightness began to loosen and her lungs felt unbound at last as he continued to look at her with his relaxed gaze.
He weakly chuffed at her, a noise of affection that elicited a breathless laugh. Lotor did not flinch when she bent down suddenly to embrace him. In fact, he tried leaning in as much as he could without pain as he parted his lips.
“Glad to hear you’re breathing fine.”
Allura grinned and pressed their foreheads together.