Work Text:
The moment they land, they’re escorted directly from the cruiser to the banquet. Keith would have preferred to settle in first, change clothes, stretch out, jog with the space wolf. Maybe feel up his husband for a bit.
But it is not to be. Everyone, on every coalition planet, loves them in their uniforms for as many state events as possible, so Shiro cuts a stunning figure as The Admiral in his black, white and gold, whilst Keith is wishing he'd grabbed his dress-tunic to go over his Blades suit, because the Vruun are looking at him like he's a snack.
"We have arranged delicacies for all three of you, tailored to your needs and tastes," the Vruun leading them says in a soft, undulating voice.
"Three of us?" Shiro asks quizzically, arching his eyebrow at the ambassador of their newest coalition member. The Vruun do not have eyebrows and do not seem to notice.
"A place has of course been set for the Blue Paladin."
The Vruun gestures to... Kosmo.
Keith bites back a laugh. They don't get The Voltron Show out here and it's not as if every Paladin in history has always been bipedal. Keith nods as Kosmo bumps his hip. The blue flavoured thoughts Keith can feel from the space wolf are excited. He gets the distinct feeling that if Kosmo could, he would be sniggering.
"Thank you,” Keith says in his best diplomatic voice. “We'd be delighted."
They are seated at a long table with Kosmo placed on Keith's other side, and Keith and Shiro try not to get caught giving each other obviously flirtatious and heated looks as the Vruun deliver long dishes artfully arranged with tid-bits of haute-cuisine. Each food is labelled, but the universal translate scanner on Keith’s PADD doesn’t help, because the Vruun’s written language has not been uploaded yet.
“Feel like Alice?” Shiro asks, grinning happily.
“Eat me,” Keith offers, holding out what appears to be a vibrantly pink grape in two fingers.
The grape turns out to be sour with a sensation like popping candy. Keith can’t stop laughing at the expression Shiro produces, but he eats the rest of them. They remind him of the cheap toxic-coloured candy of his early childhood.
“Drink me?” Shiro smirks, presenting a glass of sparkling mauve something to Keith.
It coats his tongue like cream, but it’s savoury. Keith makes a face.
The banquet goes on like that, the pair of them being silly and sharing food, Kosmo happily chomping down his fancy multi-coloured appetizers with obvious delight. The mind link he shares with Keith, glitters with pleasure. He is happy to be included.
As the plates begin to be cleared for the final time, Keith ruffles Kosmo’s ears fondly, leaning back into Shiro’s massive chest as the space wolf rests his chin on Keith’s shoulder. He closes his eyes as Shiro raises a hand and begins to pet him too.
“Maybe we can trick all the new coalition planets into thinking you’re Lance, then we won’t have to put up with him,” Keith suggests.
“Keith…” Shiro admonishes him softly. Keith rolls his eyes. Kosmo woofs, a sensation of deep contentment vibrates along the bond to Keith from him.
Keith shifts in his seat. He’s hot, he’d like to be wearing fewer clothes, and he wants Shiro to hold him against the nearest flat surface and fuck his brains out.
“Let’s get out of here.”
Their hasty exit is interrupted by the Vruun ambassador, politely enquiring after their enjoyment of the meal. Keith is glad Shiro appears to still be in control of his faculties, because he isn’t.
“Delightful, thank you. Everything was lovely.”
“Each dish is carefully crafted to help fulfil your innermost desires. We pride ourselves on our culinary empathy.”
Kosmo barks. Keith laughs. The sounds are almost identical.
At least that explains why he’s so horny and so close to flushing purple in public. The Vruun have just spent the evening stoking his thirst for his husband. Keith hopes the bed is sturdy, because they’re going to wreck it.
*
Keith wakes with a hangover the size of a small moon and screws his eyes shut at the sensation of a finger poking him between the eyebrows.
“Kee. Kee…”
“Fuck off ‘Kashi… I’m dying…”
“Kee…”
There is a whine.
Keith feels around the inside of his mouth with his tongue – his mouth feels like cotton wool, but at least his teeth are no longer sharp and pointy – then he snuggles tighter into Shiro’s arms that are wrapped around him as he is poked again, more firmly.
Hang on.
He feels with one hand, then the other, and frowns. Shiro is spooning him with long fingers splayed over his chest and belly, half-chubbed cock nudging his arse. Everything is as it should be. So why is he being poked in the face?
“Kee?” Poke. Poke. “Kee…”
Keith opens one eye. Then the other. His head hurts, but no level of hangover encourages this kind of hallucination. The blue rimmed eyes are familiar, the soft grey-black skin is not. Keith sits up so hard the room spins.
He finds himself steadied by sure, confident hands. They are black skinned, warm, safe. Keith can feel the familiar pattern of the space wolf’s emotions in his hind brain; Kosmo is not worried, just confused. Keith lets his eyes move from the hands up the arms they are attached to, which are humanoid and bear blue markings which Keith knows he could trace in his sleep. A face he has never seen before is topped by a shock of bright, electric blue hair. And then Kosmo grins.
Kosmo is human, or at least, humanoid. And his tongue is blue. And apparently glowing.
“How much did I have to drink last night?”
“Kee!” Kosmo hugs him, head butting into his chest in a familiar gesture, long arms wrapping around Keith’s ribs, hot breath wafting down over his abs.
Keith moves to ruffle his fur, then stops.
He is naked. Kosmo is also naked. Kosmo’s head is very close to his crotch, and it’s the morning. And being fucked into oblivion last night has done nothing to dampen Keith’s morning wood. Panic pours through him.
Kosmo scrambles away before Keith can push him, and he feels the shock of the rejection in his mind; sharp and stinging, like the space wolf has smacked him in the back of the legs with a stick as he runs past. Keith winces at the sensation, because even when Keith was angry and sad and out of sorts, he never wanted to push Kosmo away like he did just now.
Kosmo’s whimpering howl is enough to rouse Shiro from what was apparently a rather good dream.
“Keith… why is Kosmo person-shaped?”
“Unsure. Kos…? I’m sorry.” Keith reaches out with his mind to the wolf-not-wolf and finds Kosmo reaching back towards him. It feels the same as it always does, and the taste of hurt doesn’t linger more than a few heartbeats. “Sorry buddy.”
“Kee?”
“Yeah, c’mere then.”
Kosmo comes to him, head rubbing into his shoulder as though he still has point-tipped ears to scratch, and Keith’s heart warms with the familiar gesture of comfort. No matter Kosmo’s size, he has always tried to place his head just here and Keith bends easily and presses kisses to the back of his scalp. Kosmo jerks up with a bright grin and looks at Shiro who is now upright and dragging his hands through his hair. Keith always thinks his husband is beautiful, but sleep mussed in the morning after good sex, Shiro is the most beautiful.
Kosmo makes a noise which is almost but not quite a bark and launches himself in a mass of long limbs and blue fluff, hug-tackling Shiro to the ground.
“BABY!”
Keith freezes.
Oh shit…
*
No one has ever left a new coalition planet so quickly or so stealthily, but Keith isn’t the best pilot in the Blades for nothing. He takes their custom cruiser – with the candy apple red stripes across the nose – and breaks atmo without leaving a ripple. The moment they are on route back to the Atlas, Keith switches on the autopilot and turns to his husband and their… not currently a space wolf.
“Is your name actually Kosmo?” It’s not what Keith planned to say, but now it’s out there.
Not-space-wolf opens his mouth, then shuts it again.
“You can’t say my name with this voice box.” His speech is stilted, unused, adorable. “I like being Kosmo.”
“What’s my name?” Keith points to himself, like an idiot.
Kosmo rolls his eyes, because he agrees. Keith can feel him through their bond.
“Kee.”
Keith feels a flicker of happiness in their link when Kosmo says his name. He can’t help but smile. Then he points to Shiro.
“What’s his name?”
“Baby.”
Shiro makes a pained noise, the tips of his ears are pink. Kosmo looks upset, and Keith can feel worry leaking through the place where their minds brush against each other. Already Keith misses his friend’s easy-to-read body language and expressive ears.
“Kos… he’s Shiro.”
“But you call him ‘baby’!”
“I’m his husband,” Keith doesn’t snap, but it’s a close thing. “And I don’t always.”
“Yes, you do.”
Keith can feel Shiro watching him, his neck heats up. He hunches his shoulders in instinct.
“No.”
“In here.” Kosmo tugs somehow on the link between them – Keith feels it like a pull on his sleeve and in the back of his hair all at the same time – and almost falls from his co-pilot’s chair. “In here you do,” Kosmo elaborates, “every time.”
Keith puts his head in his hands, and groans.
*
In the few varga it takes to get back to Atlas, Shiro gets Allura and Coran up on the holo-screen and Keith messages Krolia on his PADD, and things start clicking into place.
The Vruun are an empathic people, and very proud of their food. Quintessence on the planet coalesces into the plant life and can be manipulated through cooking.
At this point, Hunk hijacks the call to tell them he wants samples sent back to Earth.
Shiro, Keith, and Kosmo ate the food, food specifically formulated to unlock their innermost desires. For Keith this was nothing more than an aphrodisiac, because he doesn’t have any secret desires. He wants to not be a solider and to have Shiro, and he’s already sorted out both of those things. Hence all the sex. Shiro’s desires fed off Keith’s; the stamina to keep up with his half alien husband. Which explains the bruises on Keith’s hips and the four orgasms Shiro filled him with.
But Kosmo…
“You wanted to be person-shaped?” Keith asks.
Kosmo nods enthusiastically.
“But why?”
Kosmo chews his lip then, and Keith knows already the not-wolf has picked up habits from being near him.
“Because it always looks like such fun.” Kosmo sighs. He practically has sparkles in his eyes a she raises both hands and begins touching his thumbs to each of his fingertips. “I can hold things. Can I have a pen?” He exhales again. “You can do things Kee, for yourself.”
“Yeah.” Keith glances down at his own hands, thinking of the way he can manipulated his blade or his cruiser or his PADD, and wonders if he takes them for granted.
“Kee can fly.”
“Kos?”
The not-space wolf doesn’t answer him, but Keith gasps as he sees something in his inner vision, something coloured by the thoughts of the wolf. It is a lot like watching his memories on the space whale, all-encompassing but strangely dissociative, and Keith watches himself sling one leg over his hoverbike and wave to the space-wolf. The view is red-orange with a blue sky, its their home on earth, and Keith watches with his heart in his throat as he and Shiro pull away on their bikes, leaving Kosmo to laze around on the porch and watch them go.
Keith reaches out and lays his hand on Kosmo’s head, and the not-wolf chuffs happily. It’s a very strange noise coming from a nearly-human throat, but Keith smiles.
*
When they return to Atlas there is a message from Romelle in the New Altean Library waiting for them, informing them that the effects of the Vruun food shouldn’t last more than a phoeb.
To Keith, currently locked in a silent battle of wills with a naked Kosmo who no longer has full body fur and is refusing the consider any of the clothing options presented to him, this is not welcome news.
*
“Kee!”
“No, Kos. You have to stay here.” Keith frowns at the not-wolf as he finishes his braid. “You can’t come.”
Kosmo growls, it’s sort of adorable coming from a humanoid voice box.
“Why not?”
“You cannot be naked on the bridge.”
“You’re not going to the bridge all quintant!”
Kosmo sulks. It’s like a weight pulling at Keith’s mind, just on the inside. He very nearly tears his braid out in frustration.
“You cannot be naked anywhere else on Atlas!”
They have had this conversation – in increasing levels of volume – around and around for several varga now. Kosmo refuses to wear clothes; Keith refuses to let him leave their quarters without them.
It’s awkward enough living with Kosmo being permanently naked with just him and Shiro. It’s certainly put the brakes on their sex life. Keith hasn’t had to hold himself back in bed since he was a Cadet, and he didn’t intend to start again now. Especially considering that both he and Shiro still have the effects of the Vruun’s empathic cooking running through them. It’ll last about as long for them as it does for Kosmo, and whilst Keith has got a pretty good handle on his Galra features, he’s never been hornier.
But the result is that Keith also hasn’t left their quarters since they arrived back on Atlas and if anything, he’s more jittery from the inaction than Kosmo is. He gives Kosmo a stern glare.
“Stay here.”
“Kee….” This time the whine is faintly distressed, tugging at their bond in a different way, and Keith feels instantly guilty. After all, Kosmo has been his almost constant companion, fighting partner, and gigantic shadow, for most of the past four years.
“Sorry bud.” Keith fits his blade into his belt at the small of his back. “Stay.”
It lasts all of a varga.
Keith is in fact, still on the bridge, standing by Shiro’s shoulder as he commands the ship from the captain’s chair, most of the bridge crew scrambling to keep up as Atlas adjusts heading and settings to Shiro’s thoughts rather than his words.
The main doors whoosh open, the attendant barely gets a syllable out before there is a muffled yelp and both Matt and – a fully nude Kosmo – tumble across the bridge accompanied by a sharp and familiar tang of ozone. Keith only ever feels that lighting on the tongue sensation when Kosmo transports them somewhere.
“KEITH!” Matt cries, clearly concerned for the situation.
“Kee!” Kosmo barks happily, grinning without a hint of shame, even though he is apparently attached to Matt.
“Kos?” Shiro asks, eyebrows receding into his hairline.
“What the-?” starts some random member of the bridge crew Keith hasn’t bothered to learn the name of.
“Oh fuck-” Keith wants to put his head in his hands and hide. But he can’t. “Kosmo!”
“Keith, please kindly explain why your wolf is naked and trying to climb me?!” Matt does nothing but draw attention to the situation with his screech; though in his defence, that’s not hard. “KOS! Get off!”
Kosmo goes, shuffling backward in a crouch, moving as though to tuck his tail between his legs. Half of Keith wants to dissolve with embarrassment, the other half wants to kick Matt for shouting at his friend.
When Kosmo reaches him, Keith settles for rubbing over his head with one hand in a familiar gesture. Kosmo whines and presses his face against Keith’s thigh, and Keith feels the twin vibrations of love and unhappiness through their bond. Shiro attempts to calm Matt, and it’s not going well, so Keith tunes them out.
“Kos, what happened? I told you to stay at home.”
“I was bored.” Kosmo chews his lip with sharp teeth. “I was looking for the little one.”
“You went to Pidge’s lab?”
“They always have fun toys!”
“So why is Matt running away from you?”
Kosmo feels guilty, Keith can sense it in his mind. He crouches down, and wraps an arm around Kosmo’s shoulder.
“Come on bud, let’s get out of here.”
There is a snap of ozone, and they are gone.
Kosmo delivers them to Keith’s favoured training mat in the gym, and Keith wastes no time in clearing all the currant occupants out of the room. He hates pulling rank, but these are extraordinary circumstances, and require special measures.
“What happened with Matt?”
“He wouldn’t let me play.”
“With?” Keith feels dread building in the pit of his stomach.
“I know what you guys say about him. There weren’t any fun toys in the lab. I figured he could show me what to do with this body.”
Oh no…
“You went to Matt for sex advice?”
“Baby said I couldn’t ask you!”
Keith outright groans.
“You already asked Shiro for sex advice!?”
Keith falls back on his heels, Kosmo copies the pose, and Keith really wants to bleach from his mind the knowledge that Kosmo tongue is not the only part of him which is blue and glowing. Kosmo frowns down at his light-emitting erection.
“This did not used to happen before.”
“You remember what I was saying about clothes, Kos? This is why.”
“But I’m not cold.”
Keith sighs, unwilling to have the same argument all over again.
“Come on bud, let’s run, yeah?”
It’ll do for now.
*
Shiro looks stressed, and that is instantly a matter of concern for Keith. He has spent years intimidating people into learning how to delegate and ask for help so that not everything gets instantly passed to Shiro. But Shiro has those creases between his eyes which means something is wrong, and Keith – fresh back from hand-to-hand combat training with the Blades stationed on board – is already willing to fight whoever it is causing his husband pain.
“Baby? What’s wrong?”
“Oh Keith… Keith, he’s in the shower again.”
And sure enough, when Keith cocks his head, he hears the tell-tale sounds of their shower on full blast.
“Atlas says it’s draining her freshwater supplies.”
Between an empathic bond with a space wolf and a metal link with a fully sentient spaceship, Keith sometimes wonders how he and Shiro have any room in their heads for each other. He sighs, and heads for the bathroom.
“Kos? Kos, buddy, time to come out of there now. We’ve got things to do.”
Kosmo grins at him through the fogged up glass, tongue out and eyes aglow.
“I AM NEVER LEAVING THE INDOOR RAIN!”
Keith considers this. Bribery is everything.
“Well, I was going to take Shiro out for ice cream.” It turns out most alien species have some version of frozen dessert which is safe for human consumption. “But I guess if you don’t want to come…”
Kosmo teleports out of the shower, bringing much of the water with him. Keith sniggers, even though his uniform ends up soaked.
“Shake.”
Kosmo does.
“Good boy. Go tell Shiro while I change.”
“BABY!”
Listening to Kosmo bound into the other room whilst he switches his damp uniform for jeans and tee makes Keith smile.
“Kee says ICE CREAM!”
Later, with his arm around Shiro’s trim waist as they lick their ice cream and watch Kosmo dancing along the promenade by the crystalline-purple water, Keith grins broadly when his husband says:
“I can’t believe you can trick me and him the same way.”
Keith slides his hand south and gropes his husband’s arse in an obvious manner.
“I always said you’re just a big puppy, Baby.”
Shiro turns an extremely attractive shade of pink, and Keith wonders if he can get anyone to dog-sit for the evening.
*
Keith enters the Paladin common room to find it in uproar. Since this is fairly usual state of affairs, he simply shrugs, and starts crossing the room to go and see what Hunk has baked today without paying much attention to the others. But when Keith hears Pidge let out a shriek of actual anger his head whips up and he sees what is happening.
Kosmo is biting his lip hard, his bright eyes dark, and he cowers away from Pidge as though he could actually be harmed by all four feet nothing of them.
“NO!”
Keith springs over there before Pidge has even finished shouting.
“What’s going on?” Keith turns to Kosmo, because the bond he shares with the wolf is full of sadness and pain. “Kos, are you alright?”
“Is he alright?” Pidge snaps. “He’s fine! Keep your damn hands to yourself!”
“Pidge… maybe we should just calm down a bit, yeah?” Bless Hunk and his tendency to be peacemaker.
Pidge takes a deep breath, and huffs it out.
“I mean it. Keith, impart upon him the importance of personal space. I know you and Shiro don’t have any qualms but some people do not like random human-looking space-wolves feeling them up with no warning.”
“Oh… sorry Pidge.” Keith turns to Kosmo. “Apologise.”
Kosmo bites his lip and shuffles forward in his odd little half crouch, bowing his head.
“Sorry little one.”
Pidge still looks pissed.
“Teach him to talk or teach him to wear clothes but do it somewhere else!” they snap, and Keith winces as Pidge storms out.
Keith nods, and takes Kosmo by the wrist and leads him over to the far side of the common room.
“Kosmo...”
“Why can’t I just touch when I want to?” Kosmo whines, curling in on himself.
“Kos…” Keith feels for him down their bond, sending love towards his friend.
“That’s not an answer Kee!”
“You just can’t go around touching people.”
“People always used to touch me,” Kosmo sulks.
“You used to be a giant space wolf,” Keith explains, sitting heavily on the couch. It times past it wouldn’t have taken Kosmo-the-wolf more than a tic to hop up on the furniture and make himself comfortable between Keith's legs with his head on Keith’s chest. Keith kind of misses those hugs.
Kosmo blinks at him, and Keith realises too-late that he just showed the wolf the picture in his head.
“I still am a space wolf!”
“People don’t see you that way anymore, Kosmo.”
“Since when has the way people seen you mattered so much?”
Ouch… Keith doesn’t like to admit how well Kosmo can read him, has always read him. He offers his hand out.
“Kos… you can always touch me.”
Kosmo brightens up immediately. Literally, his eyes and tongue glow more boldly as he grins and clambers up off the floor and into Keith's lap.
Keith spends the next two varga happily ruffling Kosmo’s hair and dragging knuckles along his spine. The bond between them sparkles with pleasure, and Keith lets himself experience how much he has missed being with his friend. Kosmo never asks Keith to explain his thoughts and feelings, and Keith knows it is much of the reason why they get along so well. He doesn’t have to pretend to be anything for Kosmo other than himself.
Their peace is too good to last – of course – and Keiths head jolts up from where he was nearly but not quite falling asleep, to find Lance staring at him. His eyes look about ready to pop out of his skull.
“Oh my god.”
“What?” Keith snarls, instantly annoyed by the judgemental way lance is still staring at him.
“I came down to see if anyone wanted to hang out because Allura is spending time with Lotor. Again.” Lance grouses. “But that is so not important right now, because what the fuck am I witnessing here, Mullet?”
“What’s going on?” Hunk asks, ambling over from the kitchen. The scent of baking follows him.
“Keith is cheating on his husband,” Lance declares. Keith’s nails dig into his palm as he makes a fist, willing himself not to lose control.
“Kee?”
“Shhh, it’s alright bud.”
“They can join us,” Kosmo mumbles sleepily. “Hunk always smells good…”
Keith pets his friend’s hair until Kosmo is near boneless in his lap once more.
“Will you fucking keep it down?” he hisses.
“Keith, what will Shiro say when he finds you snuggling with a naked dude? In public!”
Keith glares at him.
“It’s Kosmo.”
“But he’s all- um- er- he’s very-” Hunk stammers.
“It’s hardly the same when he’s a person and not a fucking dog, Keith,” Lance quips.
“Kos has always been a person.” Keith retorts. “You’re overreacting. Both of you have cuddled with him plenty.”
“He had fur then.”
“So Antok is just a big dog too?” Keith snipes.
“No. Obviously Antok is a cat. That’s hardly the point.”
Keith groans. This is not an argument he is going to win. He shakes Kosmo awake.
“C’mon bud, time to go running.”
The ability to teleport out of an unwanted discussion has never been so welcome.
*
Kosmo is holding a fork like it’s a dangerous snake, brow furrowed. It is the first time Keith has brought him to eat in the mess hall since their visit of the Vruun’s planet, but Kosmo is bored with the selection and lack of variety on foods Keith will cook for him in their quarters. And Keith is sick of Kosmo eating everything with his hands.
Kosmo has always liked the mess hall, so here they are.
“You know what it is Kos, you see us eat with them all the time.” Keith stabs a chunk of bright yellow something with his fork and chews with an exaggerated slowness. “Eat.”
Keith has given up on the subject of clothes. Far better to stop Kosmo from trying to rub himself up against people, despite it being a natural instinct he has indulged in for his whole life. The crew in the mess hall aren’t staring, because Keith would hurt them if he noticed, but that doesn’t mean they aren’t being watched. He prods Kosmo in the shoulder.
“Eat.”
Kosmo looks exactly like a large human-shaped wolf trying to use cutlery for the first time, and it’s quietly hilarious. Keith swallows his laugh and takes his wrist, guiding his movements. Kosmo huffs, the softest of growls. He slurps at the food on his fork with his ridiculously long, glowing blue tongue, seemingly trying to wind it around the utensil.
“Hunting is easier.”
“Next time, Kos. I promise.”
*
“KEE!” Kosmo’s bark is loud, delighted, and sudden. The bond between them vibrates with pride and satisfaction. Keith doesn’t get the chance to lift his head from the pillow of Shiro’s shoulder before the shouting starts. Hunk is screaming, Allura makes a noise like she’s going to be sick, Lance is talking so fast that it’s just white noise now, and Lotor has apparently stalled on ‘errrr’. Keith groans.
It is Paladin movie night. They are parked in orbit around a coalition planet with a variety of on world entertainments and unique habitats. Matt called it a pick’n’mix planet, because of all the different zones, but the five Paladins, plus Matt, and Allura with Lotor – which has been the most unexpected development of recent times – are wedged comfortably into their common room with an old Earth movie. It’s Shiro’s choice, which means Keith has been mostly ignoring the pitched space battles of the crew of the USS Enterprise, dozing on his husband’s chest whilst Shiro rubs circles into his hair and the back of his neck.
The petting, it turns out, is key to quieting his heightened Galra tendencies to jump his husband’s bones at any given opportunity. And it was working, Keith was relaxed. Until now.
Kosmo is naked, grinning like a loon, and covered in green blood and teal viscera, and holding aloft the body of what appears to be an enormous snake with several heads.
My space wolf murdered a hydra, Keith thinks weakly. Oh shit.
“KEE!” But Kosmo is so proud of himself, and so uncaring of the fact he is dripping blood on Lance and that Lotor has just been thwacked in the face by the tail of the dead thing. “Look! I killed a thing!”
Everyone looks toward Keith, probably because it is preferably to looking at a naked Kosmo. His smile is not the only thing about him which is proud. Matt has flung a hand out over Pidge’s eyes. Pidge is covering Hunk’s eyes.
But Keith can’t bring himself to be mad with his friend, not again, not after the awful sensation of being able to feel Kosmo’s shame through their bond. He smiles.
“So you did. Good boy!”
Shiro chuckles softly into the back of Keith’s neck, low enough that no one else will hear, and Kosmo barks with joy, drops his prize and vaults over the sprawl of Lotor and Allura’s nest of cushions to rub himself against Keith.
Keith’s lap becomes a bed for an affectionate and filthy space not-wolf, the Paladins argue at length over the dead hydra. Shiro pets the cleanest part of Kosmo over Keith’s shoulder.
“Just like old times?”
“Nah, for that we’d have to cook it.”
Space hydra tastes like chicken. It goes great with hot sauce.
Kosmo sits at Hunk’s elbow as he carves slices from the roasted creature, and Keith can feel that he is eager to reach out to one of his favourite people who isn’t himself or Shiro. But he waits, and Keith can almost see the tail he does not have twitching with excitement.
“Hey… Kosmo?” Hunk turns with a slice of roasted space hydra on a fork and cocks his head at the space not-wolf. “What’s up, buddy?”
Kosmo shuffles, shifts his weight, and produces a soft little whine which spears Keith through the heart. Keith thinks reassuring thoughts at his friend, and Kosmo instantly straightens, his eyes growing bright.
“Can I-”
“You want some more?” Hunk interrupts.
“-a hug?” Kosmo finishes softly.
“Oh… bud, of course.”
Kosmo barks with happiness and Keith feels joy crackle across their bond as Kosmo receives his first fully consensual hug.
Kosmo’s smile is brighter for days afterward.
*
Whatever Kosmo is doing, he is happy. Keith closes his eyes, because it’s easier to visualize his link with Kosmo that way, and concentrates on the signals he is receiving from the space wolf.
Kosmo is…
Keith recoils from the link fast enough to give himself a headache, from the other room, Kosmo yelps.
“Sorry,” Keith winces. “I should have...asked or something. Shit.”
There is silence. Then-
“Kee?”
“Yes Kos?”
“I don’t know if I’m doing it right.”
Keith has been embarrassed before: sharing memories with his mom on the space whale; the time Matt walked in on Shiro fucking him against the wall in their quarters, and wouldn’t leave until he finished crowing about it; getting stuck half inside his cruiser whilst wearing anal beads…
None of those times comes close to this.
Kosmo was masturbating, and Keith just did the empathic equivalent of walking in without knocking. Only worse, much worse. And now Kosmo wants… his help? Keith’s not sure he can do this.
“Kee?” Kosmo’s whine is plaintive and accompanied by a soft tug on their bond, and Keith slumps into the wall with a thud.
“Just… do what comes naturally.”
“But my spine doesn't bend that much anymore!”
Keith feels his blood drain to his feet.
Not once in four years, has he ever seen or overheard the space wolf doing anything sexual, and apart from a few times in Black when they had very limited space, Kosmo never been even vaguely present when he and Shiro have sex. Kosmo being sexual just isn’t something which has ever occurred to him. Keith feels a sudden rush of guilt about that, because he’s always known – and now it’s clear to everyone else too – that Kosmo is as much a person as any other alien race.
“Do you… do you usually…” Keith isn’t sure how to finish his sentence, and having the conversation through the wall is awkward, but way less so than seeing whatever going-on on the other side. Keith shifts uncomfortably, because now is not a good time to get an erection. “- take care of yourself?”
“Yes. Its not like you and Baby ever ask me to join.”
Keith nearly swallows his tongue.
“WHAT?”
“Kee…”
Keith is certain he’s on the receiving end of eye-roll
“It’s not like I can’t feel it when you're together.”
Oh fuck.
“Is that… something you want?” Keith ventures, dreading the answer.
“No. Not with you.” Kosmo makes an unhappy noise loud enough for Keith to hear through the wall and feel in his head simultaneously. “Not with Baby either.”
Keith groans, and slumps further down the wall in relief. Kosmo is his friend, and has been his constant companion for years. Keith raised him from a pup, and he’s really not sure he could adapt all those warm, soft feelings into something not-platonic. He’s glad he doesn’t have to.
“But with someone?” Keith asks. “Someone specific?”
“Yes,” Kosmo answers instantly.
“Do you want to tell me who?”
There is a swirling image of purple and flashes of movement, and Keith backs away from the connection. The person Kosmo wants is another member of the Blade of Marmora, and that’s enough information for Keith’s shredded nerves right now.
“Let’s just deal with this problem for now, OK bud?”
“OK.” Keith feels a frisson of pleasure through their bond again, and tries very hard not to imagine his space not-wolf touching himself. “What do I do to make it go down?”
Sure, Keith’s been embarrassed before, but no amount of stumbling over the complex formal greetings as ambassador to new coalition planet is ever going to top guiding his friend through his first ever humanoid orgasm.
*
“Baby!” Kosmo bounces up to Shiro, and the three members of the junior telemetry staff the Captain was speaking to, all turn their species specific colour of blush. “Baby! Kee says we can go!”
“Hey Kos. Slow down buddy.” Shiro begins stroking over Kosmo’s head, running strong fingers through his hair as Keith catches up with his errant not-wolf. Shiro always knows the best way to calm them both down. “Go where”?
Kosmo bounces up and down, hands tugging at Shiro’s uniform.
“Flying!”
Keith smiles sheepishly at his husband.
“I might have mentioned we could take the hoverbikes out and then he wouldn’t let it go.” Kosmo beings to nod along with him, all bright eyes and big white teeth. “You can come, right?”
“Please Baby?” Kosmo is still fully capable of giving Shiro puppy eyes. “Please?”
“Alright, alright. I’m pretty sure they don’t need me here anyway. Not with you both hanging around.” Shiro slings an arm around Keith’s waist, the other over Kosmo’s bare shoulders. “Alright boys, where are we going?”
Atlas is close enough to Earth that Keith simply needs to engage the teludav-derived warp-drive in their cruiser, and the three of them are breaking through the atmosphere and touching down in a familiar landscape of red and blue. The airstrip beside their house – enlarged and vastly improved from the days when it used to just be a Keith’s shack – is little more than bare scraped earth and rock, but Keith can land anything anywhere without even a bump.
Shiro retrieves the hoverbikes from the shed and Keith argues with Kosmo about protection.
“Cool!” Kosmo has a spare pair of goggles on, grinning like a fool. “Can I keep them?”
“Only if you wear some clothes.”
Kosmo whines.
“Buddy, I know it’s hot but you do not want desert sand blasting across your crotch. It’s not fun.” Keith pushes his concern at the place where their minds are linked. “Just for this, I promise.”
Kosmo pouts, and Keith chucks a pair of gym shorts at him. Kosmo is built a bit bulkier than Keith, but less so that Shiro, and the shorts cling to his thighs and his arse and Keith rolls his eyes as hie not-wolf preens in them.
“Oh, now who thinks clothes are stupid?”
“Kee…” Kosmo moves as if to discard the shorts again and Keith yanks his hands away.
“Never mind. Forget I said anything. You look good.”
Kosmo scrambles onto Keith’s bike with excitement thrumming through every mote of his body, hands going right to the grips, flexing his thighs as he settles into the curve of the seat, his feet automatically finding the pedals and testing their give. Keith smiles as he realises his friend has watched him far more closely than he ever knew.
“So, that button to start. Throttle on the left, brake is here.” Keith climbs into the pillion seat and leans around Kosmo, on hand on his waist. “When this dial touches the red, change gear: it’s this paddle.”
“OK.”
“You got it all?”
“Yes Kee.” Kosmo’s grin is bright, his tongue glowing. “Can we go?”
“You ready, Shiro?”
Shiro revs his own hoverbike, the sleek black and silver machine lifting from the ground, kicking up a cloud of red dust as it does so. Keith yanks his red bandana up over his nose and mouth and gives Kosmo’s waist a squeeze.
“Alright bud, let’s go!”
Kosmo howls with delight.
They take a familiar route through the desert canyons, and Kosmo follows Shiro, taking every turn just a little bit slower and safer than Keith would. It’s understandable; he’s never driven before. When they reach the drop-off, Keith taps Kosmo’s thigh to get his attention and they take the other route down the safe slope of the canyon. Keith gazes skyward in time to see Shiro leap his bike into mid-air, hanging suspended in space before he begins to fall.
It doesn’t matter how many times Keith watches Shiro do it, or do it himself, his heart still pulses in his throat as the hoverbike dives down, pulling up only at the last moment, the engines whirring at full speed as Shiro grins like a lunatic. Keith shifts in his seat, pulling himself away from Kosmo as his thoughts turn distinctly heated.
Shiro has always looked good on a hoverbike. Keith wonders if he still owns those aviators he had back before Kerberos.
“Kee…” Kosmo is tugging on his sleeve. “Who’s that?”
Keith turns to look at the other end of the twisty canyon, and frowns at the two hoverbikes on their way towards them. They are not too dissimilar to the model which Keith uses – having retired his dad’s vintage bike to the garage – but the paint job is custom and the colours are familiar: Marmoran purple, along with pale and deep blue stripes.
“Well hey there little Kit.” Regris beams as he dematerialises his helmet. “Fancy seeing you here.”
“Considering I showed you around last year, it’s not that surprising,” Keith replies. “I didn’t know you were on-world.” He waves to the Regris’ companion, similar in scale and scales to Regris. “Hey Dewan.”
“Hello Keith. Who’s your friend?”
Before Keith can even answer, the hoverbike is dropping rather too hard to the ground as Kosmo abandons all the controls, launching himself across the canyon towards Regris.
“Ree!”
Keith holds back a laugh even as he brings the hoverbike softly back to life, hoping the crunch in the undercarriage hasn’t caused any actual damage. Someone else is important enough to earn one of Kosmo’s nicknames; it’s sweet.
“Hey Kosmo. Nice to see you too buddy.”
“Hello Regris.” Shiro greets them after pulling an outsized doughnut around their group like the utter show-off he is. “Are you joining us?”
“Heck yes. You wanna ride with me, Kos?”
Kosmo practically makes heart eyes at Keith, clinging to the loose fabric of Regris’ tank top with one hand. Keith nods, feeling impossibly fond, and slides more securely into the driver’s seat of his hoverbike.
“Lunch on the bluffs?” Shiro offers with a grin.
“You guys packed lunch?” Dewan inquires with a chirrup.
“Yeah, we’ll share. Let’s go!”
Hoverbikes have become surprisingly popular with the entirety of the Blade of Marmora. Since re-tooling as political envoys rather than covert assassins, they have set-up a semi-permanent base on Earth, not too far from Keith and Shiro’s house but in the other direction from the Garrison. From the first time Krolia saw Keith on his bike, her memory clearly swirling with images of his father riding the exact same one in the desert when they met, every Blade in the galaxy has taken up the sport. Unsurprisingly, a group of highly competitive deep space pilots make for great hoverbike racers, and the five of them laugh and joke and buzz each other all the way to Shiro and Keith’s second favourite hangout.
They still don’t bring people to the place where they watch the sunsets. That’s just for them.
They spread out over the hard ground as Keith hands out the food from his and Shiro’s bikes, and his husband laments their lack of preparation in bringing a blanket. Keith leans into Regris’ side as he takes the final few items from the storage compartment of his bike, and Regris hugs him tight around the waist even though he is sitting and Keith is standing.
All the Blades – heck, all the Galra now that the remaining members of Keith’s species are not under the tight control of their emperor – are a touchy bunch, and Keith is plenty used to their closeness. But when he settles down beside Shiro, his lap is not instantly subsumed by a space not-wolf with no sense of personal space. Keith unpeels the wrapper from his fried spicy rice ball and smiles to himself as he watches Regris pick up Kosmo around the waist and pretty much drape the not-wolf over his lap. Kosmo ends up with his feet tangled up with Dewan’s and he makes a series of soft little chuffing noises as Regris begins to feed him jerky and dried fruit.
Shiro yanks Keith into his lap without an ounce of discretion, and though Keith is instantly riled up from the position – the Vruun empathic food still playing havoc with his libido – the feeling of Shiro’s hard-on pressing into his lower back helps him relax.
It is nice to see Kosmo happy with other people.
*
Keith wants to murder Slav. He always wants to murder Slav a little bit, but right now Keith wants the statistician silent and gone almost more than he wants to keep breathing.
The Coalition meeting – a full set of delegates from every planet in this quadrant, specially here on Atlas for the occasion – was going perfectly well, but now Slav is off on a tangent. No one seems to be able to stop him, and Keith really wants to go home and get Shiro to fuck him so hard he can’t walk. Ideally, before Kosmo needs them again. Keith left him in the training gym with the senior Cadets, content to run laps as long as he had possession of Keith PADD and the entire multi-world music archive Atlas had downloaded for him. Slav’s warped reality predictions can wait for another lifetime.
“-and there is an eight-point-six to the power of three-three-three-recurring percent chance that if we don’t not demand a change of sock colour for all personnel-” Slav intones with grave importance, jabbing several fingers at the table and several more at various people around the room.
Keith wonders if he could steal Shiro’s PADD to ask Atlas to sound the emergency alarm so he can spring into action and get out of the meeting when there is a sharp breath of ozone, and Kosmo teleports into the room. Directly into the centre of the conference table.
Kosmo is clean – which is a slight relief that he’s not holding a recently hunted creature – but he’s not dressed at all, and he is very obviously hard. Keith wonders what on earth happened to the clothes Keith left him wearing in the gym. He keens at Keith the moment he fully materialises and the sound lances Keith directly in the heart.
His friend needs him.
Everyone is staring.
“Kee… what’s going on? Why won’t it go away?” Kosmo gestures wildly to his excited and brightly glowing erection. Beside Keith, Shiro makes a noise like a dying sea creature and hides behind his prosthetic hand.
“Kos. Not now bud!”
Keith whips off his jacket, crowding close to Kosmo, trying to cover his vibrant blue erection. Why does it need to glow?
“But I already jerked off twice and it won't go away! It hurts. Help me again?”
Keith feels the eyes of everyone in the room land on him. Shiro has gone the approximate colour of a freshly boiled lobster, and Keith knows that everyone within hearing distance totally misconstrued that final sentence. Shiro’s hand grips his shoulder, and the three of them poof out of existence right before the questions start.
Later, the Bridge crew claim ‘an unprecedented malfunction’ as to why the main boardroom suddenly had no doors for several varga, and why the PADDs of everyone in it have been wiped of all meeting data and recordings.
Keith presses a kiss to the bulkhead outside their quarters and sends Atlas all his gratitude.
*
Keith half wakes, it is dark, all is quiet, and the weight of Shiro’s arm looped around his ribs is grounding. Keith inhales his husband’s scent and half gathers his giant hippo plush with his free arm, loving the way it feels to hold and be held. He is too warm for blankets, and even Shiro has kicked aside the sheets at some point, scooting up to spoon naked against Keith’s spine. His breath comes in warm pants over his hip and the back of his neck.
Hold the fucking phone…
Dreading what he already knows he’s going to see, Keith rolls over in the scoop of Shiro’s arms to discover that Shiro is only half spooning him, and lying on the bed between them is Kosmo, wedged tightly but apparently perfectly comfortable between their legs. His head lolls back on Keith’s hip, eyes reduced to sleepy slits, bright tongue peeking from the side of his mouth. It would be a usual position to find him in, especially if it was cold. Kosmo is a three-hundred-pound space wolf trying to be a lap dog.
But this isn’t their usual.
“Kos!” Keith hisses.
“Shhh…” Shiro murmurs against his neck, arm going tight around him. “He misses being with us.”
“Shiro?” Keith can hardly believe his husband is on board with this.
“Just for tonight my love.”
Keith huffs, but settles into his pillows.
“Your loss. Was going to fuck myself on your morning wood, but I guess that’ll have to wait.”
Shiro blushes. Keith rolls his eyes, because it’s adorable that his bluntness can still make his husband blush. There is a soft whine and then:
“Can I watch?”
“KOSMO!”
The three of them stare at each other for a long moment. Keith’s heart pounds and the bond between them vibrates with panic. Shiro speaks first.
“This feels like a pants on conversation to me.”
Shiro puts on underwear, Keith too, and he wraps the sheets over his hips as Shiro returns to sit up against their headboard. Shiro throws a shirt as Kosmo, he won’t wear it, and the not-wolf hugs it tight and inhales, but it ends up covering his lap anyway.
“What does sex feel like?” Kosmo’s tone isn’t playful or teasing, and Keith feels along the length of their bond cautiously. Kosmo isn’t trying to make them uncomfortable or horny, he’s genuinely curious.
“Oh Kos…”
“Is it good?” Kosmo’s attention swings to Shiro. “It must be good, right?”
Shiro starts to nod before he realises what he’s confirming.
“Can I learn?”
Shiro sounds like he swallowed his tongue. Keith sighs softly.
“Not from us, bud. No.”
“Oh.” His head tilts, it’s achingly familiar. “Why?”
Keith reaches out and scrubs a hand through Kosmo’s blue hair. The not-wolf pushes up into his touch with a soft sigh of pleasure.
“People don’t really have sex with their friends, Kos.”
“Well… only very specific friends.” Shiro adds, hugging Keith tight.
“Right, only specific friends.”
“But it feels good?”
“Yes Kos, it feels good.” Keith chews his lip. “Something you want to tell us?”
Now, Kosmo looks guilty. The space not-wolf mumbles something largely incoherent, and Keith arches an eyebrow.
“Spit it out bud, we’re not gonna judge you.”
“If he says Matt I might judge him a little,” Shiro chuckles.
They wait. Kosmo fidgets.
“Ree,” he whispers softly.
“Ree…? Regris?” Shiro asks.
Keith remembers quite clearly sparring with Regris during his stint as a Blade, and several times since. Regris is quick and fast and light on his feet, he makes moon eyes over the pretty flowers in Atlas’s growhouse. Regris ruffles Kosmo’s hair and feeds him jerky and lets him ride his hoverbike. There are worse choices.
“Regris,” Keith confirms.
“Is that bad?” Kosmo asks. “That I wanna have sex with Ree?”
“No. You know you have to ask him though, right? You can’t just go up and touch him without permission.”
Kosmo hangs his head.
“I’m gonna screw it up, aren’t I?”
Of all the things Keith never thought he’d do, having a middle of the night conversation with his space wolf about consent – whilst Shiro offers fairly awful advice on flirting – is not one of them.
Keith might need to prime Regris for this though.
*
“Hey Regris.” Keith stops the other Blade with a hand on his arm as Regris heads towards the mess hall. “Have you got a minute?”
Regris looks him up and down – Keith has just come from yet another bloody meeting that required him to wear his full Blade Commander regalia – and nods jerkily.
“Um. Sure. I mean sir. Yes sir.”
Keith frowns, but he leads the way back into a maintenance bay off the side of the passageway, semi-private and out of the way of any passing crew members.
“I need to talk to you about Kosmo,” Keith starts. To his surprise, Regris’ eyes go wide, and the colour begins to drain from the warm purple skin of his lips. “Regris?”
“I’m fine.” Regris bows, stiffly. “I am very sorry, Commander. Please… I will not bother you or your family again.”
Keith frowns.
“Huh?”
“You-” Regris’ eyes flick between Keith’s face and his hand and the hilt of his blade. “You’re not going to threaten me for- for… being too... close, to Kosmo?”
Keith puts his hand over his eyes. Of course, of course his wolf would fall for the one person in the Blades who Keith could actually intimidate. It’s sort of ridiculous.
“No. I wanted to talk to you about the fact that Kosmo is going to proposition you.”
“He wants to- oh…” Regris’ quick forked tongue flickers over his lip, and his eyes go dark and soft, like he’s looking at something in his head. “Oh.”
Keith growls.
“Stop thinking about him like that.”
“Isn’t that what you wanted me to-”
“Not when I’m standing right here!” Keith snaps. “Oh my gods. I raised him from a pup, he’s my family. And I do not want-” Keith pauses, and takes a deep breath. “He’s going to ask you on a date.”
“A date?”
“Yes. Nice guys start out with dates Regris. And then maybe other stuff.” Keith makes a ‘zip it’ gesture with his mouth. “Be nice to him, kind, gentle. You break his heart and I’ll mount your tail on my wall.”
Regris salutes.
“Yes Commander.”
Keith scowls and hastens away from the now blushing Regris. He really hopes Kosmo doesn’t relay everything they do through the bond he shares with Keith, because there are some things about Regris – and about Kosmo – which Keith just does not need to know.
*
Keith supposes it’s a much stranger version of watching your kid go off for their first day of school. Or having them bring a potential date for prom back to the house. Something like that anyway. There is probably an analogy which fits.
Because what Keith is doing is watching as Kosmo greets Regris, and then – politely but loudly – asks the blue scaled Blade if he would like to have sex.
“Dinner Kos, you were supposed to ask him out for a hoverbike ride and dinner first…” Shiro groans into his palm, but Keith can only smile fondly as Regris grips Kosmo’s shoulder, his face splitting in a grin. Kosmo woofs with happiness.
“Do you think we’ll get a play by play when they’re done?” Shiro asks weakly, watching as they leave.
Regris’ tail is curving around Kosmo’s bare waist. Keith trusts his comrade to treat his friend right.
“Oh, I expect so.” Keith loops his own arm around his husband’s hips, tugging him close. They have about a movement left until the effects of the Vruun cuisine wear off. “I think Kosmo is going to have a new favourite planet.”
“Did we ever send any of those food samples to Hunk?” Shiro asks with a frown.
“Nope.”
“Probably best.”
Keith grins, feeling the bond with his space wolf vibrate and sparkle. Whatever Kosmo’s doing, he’s having fun.
“Come Captain. I have this feeling our bed is missing us.”
They do not make it as far as the bed.
*
It is Hunk’s turn to host Paladin dinner night, and it finds the ten of them seated around Hunk’s table which takes up the main section of his homesteader. The ship is everything a chef and engineer could ask for, and life in the slow lane of space suits Hunk very well.
“The translation software is still full of bugs,” Pidge laments, fiddling with a final few buttons clicks on her laptop before un-hooking the cable. “A smart person would have spent more time working on this when all of us could understand you and not just Keith.”
Kosmo cocks an ear and Keith sighs at the feeling which flows through their bond.
“Pidge, you’re plenty smart.”
“Yeah yeah...” Pidge waves away the compliment, which is so very like them. “OK big guy, ready to try it on?”
Kosmo obediently lifts his head and Pidge spends a few moments settling the combination collar-voicebox-necklace around his throat, ensuring they do not trap any of Kosmo’s fur in the mechanism.
“What do you think?”
Kosmo woofs. Keith feels gratitude through their bond. The collar’s speaker crackles and then:
“Thanks.”
Everyone cheers, and Pidge blushes.
“Don’t expect it to work correctly all the time at first,” Pidge says quickly to downplay their success. “Think clear thoughts.”
“OK,” says Kosmo. He turns to Regris, seated beside him, one hand playing with Kosmo’s fur.
“You look beautiful, sweetheart. Very pretty.”
Kosmo licks his boyfriend’s face. It’s objectively disgusting, but Regris practically has sparkles in his eyes.
“Oi, oi, not PDA at dinner!” Lance commands from the other side of the table, and everyone falls to good natured teasing about all the ways almost everyone has broken that rule at some point.
“Hey Kosmo!” Hunk stands in the doorway, holding a giant platter of steaming, succulent looking meat. “Made your favourite!”
Everyone groans, apart from Keith. Space hydra goes great with hot sauce.
“So… Lotor asks when everyone is tucking in, creating barbecue sandwiches with slaw and salad, food constantly passed around the table. “...when is the delegate from the planet Vruun due to arrive?”
Kosmo barks. Whatever he says isn’t picked up by the translator, but where his mind and Keith brush together, everything goes sparkly and warm. Kosmo likes both his bodies – and Regris likes them both too – but it will be nice for him to have the choice. And Coran is excited to synthesize the components from the Vruun food.
Keith snuggles against his husband’s side, smiling. Kosmo can keep the Vruun food, because he doesn’t need any help figuring out what he wants; it’s all right here.