Work Text:
"Do you trust me?” He asks. Keith’s skin was soft as he ran his fingers across his cheek so he could gently cup it. His eyes were wide and panicky, but the dark grey-purple color emitted from his irises were absolutely beautiful and inviting.
“Lance–”
“Do you?” Again, he asks, but he was already moving. Their hair touched and foreheads brushed. He could practically feel Keith holding his breath, but neither of them pulled away. He was close, all he had to do is lean forward and press their lips together but no, he had to wait and know what he was doing was correct.
“Keith?” The man in question shuttered as Lance breathed his name, each syllable hitting with small yet thunderous notes.
Fingers itched up into his hair, crawling until they had a gentle hold on the back of his neck. The feeling of Keith so close and holding him yet so far made Lance’s mind spin like a top. God, when did Keith become a puppet master? Taking him by the strings and pulling his heart so violently that they had landed here. Keith was a damn king of this puppet kingdom in Lance’s heart.
He was in the middle of uttering a faint pleasing when his mind and heart were sent trembling by what Keith said. He felt lips against his own and the hand tightening ever so slightly on his nape. Drowning in trust and feelings, so deep that neither of them would want to ever surface.
“Yes, I trust you, Lance."