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Summary
“Shiro,” Lance whispered, gently nudging his sleeping husband's shoulder. Grey eyes opened a sliver, scrunched up and blearily trying to make out Lance’s face in the early morning gloom.
“What's wrong?” Shiro mumbled, slurring his words until they were near gibberish; but Lance was well versed in sleepy Shiro speak.
Lance rubbed his morning wood against his husband, gasping softly at how good it felt. “I'm horny.”