[ keith's hand slips up along his neck and jaw just as he manages to swallow around a knot in his throat. there is another shudder, but this one has considerably less to do with their topic of conversation than the first had. ]
What are we supposed to do? [ they aren't a complete team, and if they're caught snooping around, who knows how that might affect those of them that are still asleep. more and more, keith's idea to remain here &mdasg; where he's truly beginning to feel cut off from the rest, truly hidden from prying eyes and piqued ears — is sounding really, really tempting. ]
We can't leave Allura. [ right, right... despite how it feels in this moment, how that strange bottom light seems to highlight the two fot hem, just the two of them — it would be remiss of them both to think it's really all that simple. ] And the mice... and our friends...
[ he looks around, quietly leaning into the hand at his jaw. ]
But we could come back here... Whenever we need to — talk. [ or you know... whatever else they might happen to do... ]
[There's a pulse under his fingers, keeping them to the spot -- lightly. Keith's not much of a Wait And See kinda guy, but...at present, that's all they can really do.]
I know that.
[Re: Allura, the mice...so on and so forth. Of course, he's still thinking along the lines of abandoning the planet rather than just moving out here. Surely Allura wouldn't want to come out and live here with them. They're...
They're starting a mancave, okay. Normally, at this point, he may get frustrated and busy himself at the implications that he's being a bad teammate/friend (even if he is, because he is), but as it were, he's pretty focused on Lance's face, gazing into his soul. Sure, him just wanting to come back to visit and not just stay here is a slight downer, but not all that disappointing. Twenty minutes or so ago, his place didn't even exist for either of them.]
Fine.
[Decisive, but not haughty. His thumb extends to tread his chin, touch along the corner of his lower lip, not guided by any specific thought process; the way the light shines off of Lance's face is -- nice? Like a unicorn, maybe? The comparison didn't mean much earlier -- still doesn't, but it's easier to think along those lines than to concentrate on his heart rate or how Lance'e eyes looked like glistening gems all on their own, more fascinating than the floor of their lagoon. Their conversation is contrary to whatever he's feeling at the moment, which is maybe why he more or less forfeited it six seconds ago.
[ it wasn't as if lance thought keith a bad teammate or friend — but more it was a verbal reminder to himself that the boy could fall prey to tunnel vision all too easily when he gets particularly passionate about something, and more often than not in those cases, certain details fall by the wayside. in those cases, it would then fall onto someone else (often lance himself) to be that gentle reminder. and so that had been his attempt at that. all in all, it seems to have worked out well enough, even if he does spot a slight tinge of something (disappointment?) in his careful non-refusal.
but keith seems willing to move on, which lance can only be thankful for, realizing rather suddenly that he'd rather not have to have another reason to not-refuse the other boy, especially if it were going to lead to that soft, small voice. though that being said, lance can't be too sure he's ready for whatever it is they are transitioning to, feeling both as subtle and as blatant as the slow swipe of keith's thumb down the line of his jaw. his lips part automatically, as if weighed down by the faint pressure of the digit there— ]
Keith, [ he suddenly breathes out, before he even realizes he'd been meaning to speak at all, and there are two full seconds in which he panics, knowing he should probably follow that up with something, but not entirely sure what with.
suddenly, randomly, prompto comes to mind. ]
—Have you ever had a crush before?
thank you. the trash took itself out. now i can live peacefully.
[His gaze drops slightly, returns to eye level almost immediately -- not wanting to focus too much on his mouth. That's too telling, probably. Because the tender touches and proximity, the proposal to run away together, none of that was particularly suggestive.]
Huh?
[Should they really be talking about that? Like this? His answer wouldn't -- shouldn't foul the mood (mood? what moood?), but...it's an embarrassing thing, even as the bayou itself has relaxed most of his brain...or...something.
Worst thing he could do here is make it into a bigger deal than it is.]
Not really.
[Precisely, no. He's been too busy for stuff like that aight.]
[ it doesn't count as suggestive when the person on the receiving end of all those advances is a friggin' MORON...
so you're good.
in any case, lance only realizes once keith responds that he hadn't actually been sure what he'd been wanting to hear. he'd been so sure, at least back when he'd been chatting with prompto, that someone like keith (too busy for stuff like that aight) had never had one, let alone know the first thing about it, and yet even now after the boy pretty much confirms his own suspicions, lance finds himself desperate to glean anything else out.
the strange calm of the water can only do so much to quell his ever-noisy mind, after all.
he surges forward, though in the water it's more like a gentle sway. close enough now that their knees knocked together briefly in his haste, close enough too that his arms (stretched out and swaying back and forth slightly in an attempt to continue to keep him afloat) occasionally hover keith's own sides, only to shy away again in the movement. close enough now to see the dark purple hues in keith's eyes, already an absurd color on their own, but now made even more so by the waterlight's reflections. ]
But you'd know if you do, right? If... whenever you do.
[Lance moves in, and Keith practically sinks; he's not sure what he was expecting, but his other hand semi-automatically makes a grab for his opposite shoulder -- this time purely to steady himself. He's not an expert floater...rather, he could last a while afloat on the ocean, but Lance is essentially Jaws and he's kind of losing focus.
If he were closer to the rocks, he wouldn't be in this predicament. His opposite hand's moved to grip the back of his head, too, abandoning his jaw and ruffling his hair backwards in the process so they both look funny. Him, moreso (probably) with his exposed forehead and all. This entire situation is suddenly way more embarrassing than getting your **** stuck in your wife's ******.]
Y...eah. So what?!
[If he's starting to sound edgy, it's because he's getting noivis.]
anyway, they definitely could have chosen a better setting for this particular line of conversation, yes, but it's too late now, they've come too far. though lance's ears pick up the hint of panic rising in keith's tone, a sort of sharp growl that rests on the back of his throat. where lance's voice tends to pitch higher in times of duress, keith's seem to go the opposite direction which is pretty fitting, considering their entire motif, but anyway i digress.
right now, they're a little too far away from any rocks to gain any kind of leverage, but with keith practically hanging onto lance now it's easier to drift along, even if he is essentially swimming for two. ]
Nothing, [ or so he says, because he's definitely looking at keith like it's not just nothing but he doesn't seem prepared to say anything but that. at least not right now. ] Just... you should tell them. When you do. [ get a load of dr. phil over here. ] I think they'd like to know.
[ keith will feel a bump at his back then, because somehow in the midst of lance's inane babbling, he'd managed to drift them both towards an edge of the lagoon, and finally lance's hands have somewhere to go — one at the side of keith's head, pressed flat against damp rocks; the other a brush of fingertips that trace his cheek, coming to tuck a lock of hair behind his ear. ]
[He's searching Lance's face all the while, prepared for him to outright call him on his shit; there's a sharp denial already sitting at the edge of his tongue...sitting, nesting, thawing back down into his throat in the form of a fake lump. In comes leverage, suddenly. A hard surface at his back, when Keith wasn't even aware that they were moving. Excuse the uke gasp, as well as the panicked leap from his shoulder. That hand finds a small stone to grip, acting all the while like he hadn't meant to bring all of this on while, also, at the same time, not rejecting him at all.
His eyes belatedly focus on the hand pressed to the rock by his templeish area. He's feigning preoccupation with it as Lance touches him in a way similar to what he'd just been doing himself. Being in the receiving end is completely different, however. It's scary, but exciting too. This is the same guy who flew off a mountain with a motorcycle-hoverbike btw.
How? Something else that threatens to prematurely escape his vocals. Maybe he hasn't seen enough romcoms for this sort of thing, or maybe he's just anticipating the worst? Why would Lance even like him like that? Even now, he's just -- being Lance. His other hand falls from the back of his head, shifting beyond his neck in the form of a fist, settling at his chest...prepared to spread and shove, but he does not. A drawn-in breath and a lead from Lance's earlier actions; he turns his head back toward Lance's, semi-nuzzling it, but the goal here's a bit different. His lips purse against his palm just slightly, just enough. He's insecure about the whole thing and yet, something's making him feel just courageous enough....]
[ lance feels keith pull away and he feels something cold and heavy drop in his gut — disappointment, perhaps, or maybe even fear. his shoulder feels suddenly cold, and his head feels heavy without the support of keith's hand behind his neck, but before he can dwell too much on any immediate regret, his mind refocuses enough to realize he may have admitted defeat too soon.
there is still a hand on his chest, curled into a fist, sure, but considering this is keith, it's a pretty good sign that fist hasn't yet found his nose. it stays there, nestled just beneath his collar bone, where a single shark-tooth pendant rests, but more than that — surprisingly, miraculously — more than that, there are a pair of lips against his palm, pursing with too much intent to be an accident, and lance is surprised that fist remains from how hard his heart is hammering against his chest right now.
suddenly he hears his own words echoing back at him, you should tell them, they'd like to know and he almost laughs at himself because — man. what a hypocrite. how do you know, though, how can you be sure, and also, actually, is right now really a good time to be talking anyway?
but if you aren't talking, what are you doing...
he sucks in a sharp breath, head dropping so suddenly it's a wonder he doesn't accidentally clock keith with it. the hand he's got pressed against the rock clenches into a sudden fist, because oh god, oh god, maybe he was wrong about himself all along, oh god—
his hand and his head move simultaneously; palm shifting against those lips, reaching behind to hold the back of keith's head instead, angling his face towards; his head lifting back up just to time to catch whatever protest keith might make about the sudden manhandling. with his lips. using his lips. on keith's lips. oh god. ]
[That's twice now that he's kissed...Lance...which is a weird thing to think aout -- which is why he isn't at all. Simultaneously, he can't decide whether or not his lips have lingered for too long -- he is pulling away rather quickly. There's not enough time to freak out about it or try to excuse himself from the matter at hand, as a new heaviness/warmth takes place of warm skin. It's a touch softer, wholly unfamiliar but just as warm...
Good thing he's wide-eyed when it occurs, otherwise he may've jerked away out of impulse. Not due to anything but the wait what factor of their liplock. He's borderline idle at first, only a slight extension of the handkiss lingers between the mouths...but his eyes close and he eases into the arrangement all too quickly. As if it'd been a long time coming.
His fingers unfurl, his hands turn and grip at the necklace, twisting it slightly, urging him nearer rather than trying to strangle him. He's not entirely sure how this ended up in his favor, but now he's maintaining it in his inexperience...somehow...]
[ where keith finds his comfort in not thinking, lance finds himself ping-ponging between the two. one second caught up in the press of lips and their journey towards synchronized breathing, the next hearing sirens blare between his ears because, um, hi, hello, are you aware you are kissing your teammate? locking lips with the so-called enemy, because they're rivals, except they were never really rivals were they, or maybe they were, and now they're not, they're friends, but also now they're kissing friends which means wait are they more than friends or does there have to be some kind of spoken agreement about it first?
again, speaking would probably help them both out here, or at the very least lance, who's gradually making himself dizzy running circles around in his mind. is this okay? how could it not be okay? am i doing this right? does he like it? do i like it? how could i not like it? are we going steady now? do people even still go steady? oh my god what am i gonna tell my mom—
the tug along his neck works both as a mental tug back to reality and enough of a force to draw him closer. his knees bump awkwardly against keith's, but all it takes is a slight shift and, okay, cool, legs entwined, hips aligned. both hands now buried in damp, dark hair, and, hey, what if he tugs too? ]
[Yes to the last thing, not sure about the rest. sumimasen...
Speaking has actually never helped Keith do a single thing in his life. If urged to, he'd probably immediately deny kissing him or even thinking about doing that because not only is it weird to be kissing Lance -- as Keith, but it's weird to be thinking about crushes or any of that such nonsense. Where most teens spend their days pining for obscene forms of company, Keith can be found cracking Cicada 3301 or shitposting as 9MOTHER9HORSE9EYES9. No talking, no problem. Being as it were, the more he's not thinking about it (this must be what people on Fear Factor do when they have to eat tarantulas), the longer he just endure -- reciprocates, enjoys...
The more he feels like he's gonna freak the hell out. This is why we can't have nice things, so on and so forth. It doesn't happen, however, as they both seem to find comfort in violence. The tug isn't anything forceful; it's enough to compel his head a certain way, tilt his chin up. It prompts a soft gasp (™) and only then does he realize how out of breath he is.
There's hardly any space between his mouth and Lance's, even as he deliberately lets his chin sit at a particular angle where they aren't aligned enough to spur another liplock. A slight change could fix that, but right now he's just breathing, regarding Lance with half-lids. A leg outstretches underwater, bending behind the paladin's thigh in place of any encouraging (or discouraging) words. He's still not trusting himself to say anything...this is fine.]
[ oh, right, breathing. funny how two seconds ago he wouldn't have even cared for it, but now that his lungs are finally filling with oxygen again he realizes that the lightheadedness he'd been feeling may not have entirely been from that kiss.
not to say that the kiss itself hadn't been amazing because, hey, wow, that happened and hey, wow, who knew it could be so great?
the stillness these few moments of (necessary) breathing offers them is dangerous. still enough to breathe, but still enough too to think. fortunately (?) for lance, his mind kickstarts into overdrive now that it's been given the chance, working now at 1,000 thoughts per minute (as opposed fo his usual 100), and truthfully having too many thoughts is essentially the same as having no thoughts at all, in that, in the end, nothing really gets done at all.
oh, but there are things he wants. past it all, he can feel the longing and desire for it — to touch and taste again, in any way possible. so while they breathe, his forehead finds keith's, and one hand trades a handful of dark hair to grasp one pale (with tanlines!) hand beneath the water, fingers interlaced, hands linked. and while the glitter light doesn't offer them too much to see with, he still tries to search out keith's own eyes amidst the dancing shadows.
of course it's lance to break the stillness in the end. ]
[Were they not been immersed in the lagoon -- without it to smooth over the rough edges, Keith would've been more prone to shoving Lance off and calling it quits (even the pretty rocks don't stand a chance against Keith's bipolar outbursts of solitary confinement) -- asinine considering the last time they'd spent some time together. A lot of his thoughts are giant contradictions, though. All about teamwork for the Voltron but delving into interpersonal things beyond necessary is...
Tricky.
His hand eases off the rock, twining with Lance's automatically. A verbal response isn't so quick; Lance is right in front of him -- foreheads touching, even, but he's searching through the dim light, focused on his eyes (kinda) but trying to look beyond--]
I don't know-?!
[It's kneejerk, slightly concerned but likely not enough to undo any progress here. He'll draw his lower lip in, chewing at it awkwardly while moving his hand to Lance's ear (from his hair), toying lightly along the edge of that shell.]
everything about this is so tenuous, encroaching onto new and exciting (but all the more frightening for it) territory, that it truly is a blessing in disguise that it's all coming to fruition under the cozy haze of this lagoon. a metaphorical balm to the slight sting of keith's verbal withdrawal (a sting that certainly would have hit harder had most of his nerves not already been calmed by the warmth of the lagoon, the finger along his ear, the hand still holding his own just as easily). it keeps his own words a little milder, dulled. ]
...Who else am I supposed to ask...
[ there are little distractions — that tracing finger, the movement of keith's lower lip between his teeth — and he feels a tug to just indulge in them. but there persists a quiet voice in the back of his mind — they should talk about this, shouldn't they? prompto said pretending like these things never happened... that's the greater mistake, isn't it? ]
[There's a sigh -- and he's probably too close to Lance at the moment to be sighing like that, but he does it anyway because he's rude.]
How should I know-?
[If only the lagoon had magical properties in How To Speak To Someone And Be Nice At The Same Time as opposed to Horny Powers -- though those could arguably turn into the sameish thing. A hobgoblin like Keith just needs more. Uh. Help. Similarly, it'd be much easier for him to press on with the more physical aspect of whatever's going on here, standoffish(?) as he's being at the moment. He's like a golden retriever that's just been brushed for the first time.]
I don't know anything about this or what you want me to say.
[Whenever Keith's forced into an uncomfortable situation that's barely uncomfortable (they're pretty mutual in being gay at the moment), read as, Keith just needs to be difficult.]
But, [Eyes downward now; the dark haze isn't helping to make this any easier.] it's...fine, right?
[ they're probably too close for this too, but lance still attempts to give keith a dry look regardless. ]
How should I know, [ he responds in a similarly dry tone, but it's definitely not as antagonistic as keith's own knee-jerk response had been. if anything, it's just exasperated, but lance realizes maybe the reason they both don't really know how to respond is because they're both just waiting for the other to make some sort of decision.
and maybe that's asking a little too much of them now.
so he tries to dial it back a bit, tries to reassess. prompto had told him that people like keith — they do better with action than words. so in that case... ]
It feels fine.
[ perhaps he should let his actions do the talking instead, shifting his hand from keith's hair down to the curve of his jaw. let his fingers trace the line there like his hand just moments earlier, draw the pad of his thumb along the lower lip he'd just been abusing. the corner there where upper and lower meet is where he presses a soft kiss, lingering just close enough in case he's allowed any more. ]
[And that's what causes him to flare up; maybe because of the calculated tenderness, or because Lance is holding more of a presence through the affection; talking. There's a quick nod and his own hand drops to the crook of his neck, treading the bend there with the palm of his tanlined hand.]
Right.
[As soon as the corner of his mouth became the focal point, the abuse ceased and a purse was reciprocated. It happens again, of his own volition, turning toward him for fuller contact, initiating another short kiss.]
...You're fine with it?
[Belatedly, like, probably something he could have checked on prior to any of this, but he didn't have an opportunity to jack the question until now. Lance's fault.]
sure, yes, absolutely. he's floating there just barely containing himself from asking for — taking — even more. but also, what is it, and how the heck did they even get here?
and now that they're here, what next? ]
Yeah. [ he listens to the pull in his gut, urging him closer, that same quiet voice that signed in relief at the first tough — as if it'd been a long time coming.
he swallows around the lump forming in his throat, the movement causing his lips to purse again; pressed close like this, it might feel like another kiss. maybe it is. ] I think so.
[Oh, they've already moved onto casual kisses. This is great. He brings his head back, thumping it lightly against the rocks, just idly...watching Lance. He look earnest enough -- like he isn't just saying this to humor him or whatnot, which may or may not have been a distant concern. Like he was just going along with this to prevent things from getting even weirder...
Which isn't much like Lance, who screams like a woman giving birth at the first sight of something not-good.]
[ not for the first time, lance's mouth starts moving before his mind can— ]
Y....es......
[ the word is drawn out far longer than it has any right to be, too long even to still sound entirely genuine. not that the uncertainty comes from any lack of interest, or anything like that.
more just uncertainty for the sake of uncertainty. ]
[Keith, please solve the mysteries of the Bermuda Triangle in under ten minutes. Thanks. His jaw goes slack, as if prepared to clarify all things necessary but....
That's an awfully difficult thing to tackle. Keith's not even sure what he's talking about, actually; being cozy with Lance, yeah, but what if Lance just thinks he means come here every once in a while and be weird together? What if that is all he means? He's a novice at this lovestuff but he's sure there are arrangements like that.
He probably should've chatted with Riza more when he had the chance.
While the thought of a relationship is equally as scary as thinking Lance just wants to do this once in a great while (different versions of scary, ahem), worse than either of explaining himself and having Lance reject the idea.
In approximately eight seconds, he went from nearly blurting out his expectations to preemptively accepting defeat.]
during which, lance had been preparing himself for all kinds of responses. frankly, many of them favorable, so it's a wonder his hopes don't audibly deflate when keith's single-word response punctures through them so swiftly. ]
—What?
[ he's thrown, because of all the possibilities he had been conjuring up, this hadn't been one of them? ]
What do you mean "nothing," this isn't "nothing," this is so far from "nothing!"
[ they kissed! multiple times, so it's not like it could have been an accident!
[The only thing left to do is slowly sink against the rocks. He's on course to be an alligator again. Living about 95% underwater sounds good at the moment.]
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
bc nO ONE EVER HAS PURPLE EYES
What are we supposed to do? [ they aren't a complete team, and if they're caught snooping around, who knows how that might affect those of them that are still asleep. more and more, keith's idea to remain here &mdasg; where he's truly beginning to feel cut off from the rest, truly hidden from prying eyes and piqued ears — is sounding really, really tempting. ]
We can't leave Allura. [ right, right... despite how it feels in this moment, how that strange bottom light seems to highlight the two fot hem, just the two of them — it would be remiss of them both to think it's really all that simple. ] And the mice... and our friends...
[ he looks around, quietly leaning into the hand at his jaw. ]
But we could come back here... Whenever we need to — talk. [ or you know... whatever else they might happen to do... ]
yesh tehy do x3
I know that.
[Re: Allura, the mice...so on and so forth. Of course, he's still thinking along the lines of abandoning the planet rather than just moving out here. Surely Allura wouldn't want to come out and live here with them. They're...
They're starting a mancave, okay. Normally, at this point, he may get frustrated and busy himself at the implications that he's being a bad teammate/friend (even if he is, because he is), but as it were, he's pretty focused on Lance's face, gazing into his soul. Sure, him just wanting to come back to visit and not just stay here is a slight downer, but not all that disappointing. Twenty minutes or so ago, his place didn't even exist for either of them.]
Fine.
[Decisive, but not haughty. His thumb extends to tread his chin, touch along the corner of his lower lip, not guided by any specific thought process; the way the light shines off of Lance's face is -- nice? Like a unicorn, maybe? The comparison didn't mean much earlier -- still doesn't, but it's easier to think along those lines than to concentrate on his heart rate or how Lance'e eyes looked like glistening gems all on their own, more fascinating than the floor of their lagoon. Their conversation is contrary to whatever he's feeling at the moment, which is maybe why he more or less forfeited it six seconds ago.
Ummm.]
blocked
but keith seems willing to move on, which lance can only be thankful for, realizing rather suddenly that he'd rather not have to have another reason to not-refuse the other boy, especially if it were going to lead to that soft, small voice. though that being said, lance can't be too sure he's ready for whatever it is they are transitioning to, feeling both as subtle and as blatant as the slow swipe of keith's thumb down the line of his jaw. his lips part automatically, as if weighed down by the faint pressure of the digit there— ]
Keith, [ he suddenly breathes out, before he even realizes he'd been meaning to speak at all, and there are two full seconds in which he panics, knowing he should probably follow that up with something, but not entirely sure what with.
suddenly, randomly, prompto comes to mind. ]
—Have you ever had a crush before?
thank you. the trash took itself out. now i can live peacefully.
Huh?
[Should they really be talking about that? Like this? His answer wouldn't -- shouldn't foul the mood (mood? what moood?), but...it's an embarrassing thing, even as the bayou itself has relaxed most of his brain...or...something.
Worst thing he could do here is make it into a bigger deal than it is.]
Not really.
[Precisely, no. He's been too busy for stuff like that aight.]
>:[
so you're good.
in any case, lance only realizes once keith responds that he hadn't actually been sure what he'd been wanting to hear. he'd been so sure, at least back when he'd been chatting with prompto, that someone like keith (too busy for stuff like that aight) had never had one, let alone know the first thing about it, and yet even now after the boy pretty much confirms his own suspicions, lance finds himself desperate to glean anything else out.
the strange calm of the water can only do so much to quell his ever-noisy mind, after all.
he surges forward, though in the water it's more like a gentle sway. close enough now that their knees knocked together briefly in his haste, close enough too that his arms (stretched out and swaying back and forth slightly in an attempt to continue to keep him afloat) occasionally hover keith's own sides, only to shy away again in the movement. close enough now to see the dark purple hues in keith's eyes, already an absurd color on their own, but now made even more so by the waterlight's reflections. ]
But you'd know if you do, right? If... whenever you do.
godbye for life
If he were closer to the rocks, he wouldn't be in this predicament. His opposite hand's moved to grip the back of his head, too, abandoning his jaw and ruffling his hair backwards in the process so they both look funny. Him, moreso (probably) with his exposed forehead and all. This entire situation is suddenly way more embarrassing than getting your **** stuck in your wife's ******.]
Y...eah. So what?!
[If he's starting to sound edgy, it's because he's getting noivis.]
>:'[
anyway, they definitely could have chosen a better setting for this particular line of conversation, yes, but it's too late now, they've come too far. though lance's ears pick up the hint of panic rising in keith's tone, a sort of sharp growl that rests on the back of his throat. where lance's voice tends to pitch higher in times of duress, keith's seem to go the opposite direction which is pretty fitting, considering their entire motif, but anyway i digress.
right now, they're a little too far away from any rocks to gain any kind of leverage, but with keith practically hanging onto lance now it's easier to drift along, even if he is essentially swimming for two. ]
Nothing, [ or so he says, because he's definitely looking at keith like it's not just nothing but he doesn't seem prepared to say anything but that. at least not right now. ] Just... you should tell them. When you do. [ get a load of dr. phil over here. ] I think they'd like to know.
[ keith will feel a bump at his back then, because somehow in the midst of lance's inane babbling, he'd managed to drift them both towards an edge of the lagoon, and finally lance's hands have somewhere to go — one at the side of keith's head, pressed flat against damp rocks; the other a brush of fingertips that trace his cheek, coming to tuck a lock of hair behind his ear. ]
:^P
His eyes belatedly focus on the hand pressed to the rock by his templeish area. He's feigning preoccupation with it as Lance touches him in a way similar to what he'd just been doing himself. Being in the receiving end is completely different, however. It's scary, but exciting too. This is the same guy who flew off a mountain with a motorcycle-hoverbike btw.
How? Something else that threatens to prematurely escape his vocals. Maybe he hasn't seen enough romcoms for this sort of thing, or maybe he's just anticipating the worst? Why would Lance even like him like that? Even now, he's just -- being Lance. His other hand falls from the back of his head, shifting beyond his neck in the form of a fist, settling at his chest...prepared to spread and shove, but he does not. A drawn-in breath and a lead from Lance's earlier actions; he turns his head back toward Lance's, semi-nuzzling it, but the goal here's a bit different. His lips purse against his palm just slightly, just enough. He's insecure about the whole thing and yet, something's making him feel just courageous enough....]
=D
there is still a hand on his chest, curled into a fist, sure, but considering this is keith, it's a pretty good sign that fist hasn't yet found his nose. it stays there, nestled just beneath his collar bone, where a single shark-tooth pendant rests, but more than that — surprisingly, miraculously — more than that, there are a pair of lips against his palm, pursing with too much intent to be an accident, and lance is surprised that fist remains from how hard his heart is hammering against his chest right now.
suddenly he hears his own words echoing back at him, you should tell them, they'd like to know and he almost laughs at himself because — man. what a hypocrite. how do you know, though, how can you be sure, and also, actually, is right now really a good time to be talking anyway?
but if you aren't talking, what are you doing...
he sucks in a sharp breath, head dropping so suddenly it's a wonder he doesn't accidentally clock keith with it. the hand he's got pressed against the rock clenches into a sudden fist, because oh god, oh god, maybe he was wrong about himself all along, oh god—
his hand and his head move simultaneously; palm shifting against those lips, reaching behind to hold the back of keith's head instead, angling his face towards; his head lifting back up just to time to catch whatever protest keith might make about the sudden manhandling. with his lips. using his lips. on keith's lips. oh god. ]
no subject
Good thing he's wide-eyed when it occurs, otherwise he may've jerked away out of impulse. Not due to anything but the wait what factor of their liplock. He's borderline idle at first, only a slight extension of the handkiss lingers between the mouths...but his eyes close and he eases into the arrangement all too quickly. As if it'd been a long time coming.
His fingers unfurl, his hands turn and grip at the necklace, twisting it slightly, urging him nearer rather than trying to strangle him. He's not entirely sure how this ended up in his favor, but now he's maintaining it in his inexperience...somehow...]
no subject
again, speaking would probably help them both out here, or at the very least lance, who's gradually making himself dizzy running circles around in his mind. is this okay? how could it not be okay? am i doing this right? does he like it? do i like it? how could i not like it? are we going steady now? do people even still go steady? oh my god what am i gonna tell my mom—
the tug along his neck works both as a mental tug back to reality and enough of a force to draw him closer. his knees bump awkwardly against keith's, but all it takes is a slight shift and, okay, cool, legs entwined, hips aligned. both hands now buried in damp, dark hair, and, hey, what if he tugs too? ]
no subject
Speaking has actually never helped Keith do a single thing in his life. If urged to, he'd probably immediately deny kissing him or even thinking about doing that because not only is it weird to be kissing Lance -- as Keith, but it's weird to be thinking about crushes or any of that such nonsense. Where most teens spend their days pining for obscene forms of company, Keith can be found cracking Cicada 3301 or shitposting as 9MOTHER9HORSE9EYES9. No talking, no problem. Being as it were, the more he's not thinking about it (this must be what people on Fear Factor do when they have to eat tarantulas), the longer he just endure -- reciprocates, enjoys...
The more he feels like he's gonna freak the hell out. This is why we can't have nice things, so on and so forth. It doesn't happen, however, as they both seem to find comfort in violence. The tug isn't anything forceful; it's enough to compel his head a certain way, tilt his chin up. It prompts a soft gasp (™) and only then does he realize how out of breath he is.
There's hardly any space between his mouth and Lance's, even as he deliberately lets his chin sit at a particular angle where they aren't aligned enough to spur another liplock. A slight change could fix that, but right now he's just breathing, regarding Lance with half-lids. A leg outstretches underwater, bending behind the paladin's thigh in place of any encouraging (or discouraging) words. He's still not trusting himself to say anything...this is fine.]
no subject
not to say that the kiss itself hadn't been amazing because, hey, wow, that happened and hey, wow, who knew it could be so great?
the stillness these few moments of (necessary) breathing offers them is dangerous. still enough to breathe, but still enough too to think. fortunately (?) for lance, his mind kickstarts into overdrive now that it's been given the chance, working now at 1,000 thoughts per minute (as opposed fo his usual 100), and truthfully having too many thoughts is essentially the same as having no thoughts at all, in that, in the end, nothing really gets done at all.
oh, but there are things he wants. past it all, he can feel the longing and desire for it — to touch and taste again, in any way possible. so while they breathe, his forehead finds keith's, and one hand trades a handful of dark hair to grasp one pale (with tanlines!) hand beneath the water, fingers interlaced, hands linked. and while the glitter light doesn't offer them too much to see with, he still tries to search out keith's own eyes amidst the dancing shadows.
of course it's lance to break the stillness in the end. ]
...This is okay, right?
no subject
Tricky.
His hand eases off the rock, twining with Lance's automatically. A verbal response isn't so quick; Lance is right in front of him -- foreheads touching, even, but he's searching through the dim light, focused on his eyes (kinda) but trying to look beyond--]
I don't know-?!
[It's kneejerk, slightly concerned but likely not enough to undo any progress here. He'll draw his lower lip in, chewing at it awkwardly while moving his hand to Lance's ear (from his hair), toying lightly along the edge of that shell.]
Don't ask me.
[???????????]
no subject
everything about this is so tenuous, encroaching onto new and exciting (but all the more frightening for it) territory, that it truly is a blessing in disguise that it's all coming to fruition under the cozy haze of this lagoon. a metaphorical balm to the slight sting of keith's verbal withdrawal (a sting that certainly would have hit harder had most of his nerves not already been calmed by the warmth of the lagoon, the finger along his ear, the hand still holding his own just as easily). it keeps his own words a little milder, dulled. ]
...Who else am I supposed to ask...
[ there are little distractions — that tracing finger, the movement of keith's lower lip between his teeth — and he feels a tug to just indulge in them. but there persists a quiet voice in the back of his mind — they should talk about this, shouldn't they? prompto said pretending like these things never happened... that's the greater mistake, isn't it? ]
no subject
How should I know-?
[If only the lagoon had magical properties in How To Speak To Someone And Be Nice At The Same Time as opposed to Horny Powers -- though those could arguably turn into the sameish thing. A hobgoblin like Keith just needs more. Uh. Help. Similarly, it'd be much easier for him to press on with the more physical aspect of whatever's going on here, standoffish(?) as he's being at the moment. He's like a golden retriever that's just been brushed for the first time.]
I don't know anything about this or what you want me to say.
[Whenever Keith's forced into an uncomfortable situation that's barely uncomfortable (they're pretty mutual in being gay at the moment), read as, Keith just needs to be difficult.]
But, [Eyes downward now; the dark haze isn't helping to make this any easier.] it's...fine, right?
[Doing this. Proceeding, even.]
no subject
How should I know, [ he responds in a similarly dry tone, but it's definitely not as antagonistic as keith's own knee-jerk response had been. if anything, it's just exasperated, but lance realizes maybe the reason they both don't really know how to respond is because they're both just waiting for the other to make some sort of decision.
and maybe that's asking a little too much of them now.
so he tries to dial it back a bit, tries to reassess. prompto had told him that people like keith — they do better with action than words. so in that case... ]
It feels fine.
[ perhaps he should let his actions do the talking instead, shifting his hand from keith's hair down to the curve of his jaw. let his fingers trace the line there like his hand just moments earlier, draw the pad of his thumb along the lower lip he'd just been abusing. the corner there where upper and lower meet is where he presses a soft kiss, lingering just close enough in case he's allowed any more. ]
Right?
no subject
Right.
[As soon as the corner of his mouth became the focal point, the abuse ceased and a purse was reciprocated. It happens again, of his own volition, turning toward him for fuller contact, initiating another short kiss.]
...You're fine with it?
[Belatedly, like, probably something he could have checked on prior to any of this, but he didn't have an opportunity to jack the question until now. Lance's fault.]
no subject
sure, yes, absolutely. he's floating there just barely containing himself from asking for — taking — even more. but also, what is it, and how the heck did they even get here?
and now that they're here, what next? ]
Yeah. [ he listens to the pull in his gut, urging him closer, that same quiet voice that signed in relief at the first tough — as if it'd been a long time coming.
he swallows around the lump forming in his throat, the movement causing his lips to purse again; pressed close like this, it might feel like another kiss. maybe it is. ] I think so.
no subject
Which isn't much like Lance, who screams like a woman giving birth at the first sight of something not-good.]
Okay....
[He gives the hand in his grip a squeeze.]
Then we're gonna keep doing this?
no subject
Y....es......
[ the word is drawn out far longer than it has any right to be, too long even to still sound entirely genuine. not that the uncertainty comes from any lack of interest, or anything like that.
more just uncertainty for the sake of uncertainty. ]
What's "this," exactly?
no subject
That's an awfully difficult thing to tackle. Keith's not even sure what he's talking about, actually; being cozy with Lance, yeah, but what if Lance just thinks he means come here every once in a while and be weird together? What if that is all he means? He's a novice at this lovestuff but he's sure there are arrangements like that.
He probably should've chatted with Riza more when he had the chance.
While the thought of a relationship is equally as scary as thinking Lance just wants to do this once in a great while (different versions of scary, ahem), worse than either of explaining himself and having Lance reject the idea.
In approximately eight seconds, he went from nearly blurting out his expectations to preemptively accepting defeat.]
...Nothing.
no subject
during which, lance had been preparing himself for all kinds of responses. frankly, many of them favorable, so it's a wonder his hopes don't audibly deflate when keith's single-word response punctures through them so swiftly. ]
—What?
[ he's thrown, because of all the possibilities he had been conjuring up, this hadn't been one of them? ]
What do you mean "nothing," this isn't "nothing," this is so far from "nothing!"
[ they kissed! multiple times, so it's not like it could have been an accident!
unless—? ]
I mean. Is it "nothing" to you...?
1/2
That's not it-! That's not what I meant.
[Lance's immediate, slight freakout is sadly reassuring. Better to have him doing that...than...agreeing with it all being for naught.]
No, it's not nothing. I was just saying....
[What was the point of that again? Right, it was just a spike in his insecurities which, how to even illustrate???]
no subject
(no subject)
1/2
(no subject)
1/2
2/2
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
1/3
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
1/2
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
1/4
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)