Much thanks, love, and stroopwaffles to JoAnn and Taryn for betaing. They've not seen the revisions so any mistakes are entirely my fault.

The fic, however, is entirely JoAnn's fault. I was reading Promise, and a bit of dialogue struck my fancy. So much, in fact, that I plucked it out and inserted it in my fic. It's set off by //.

Warnings: LEMON (in case you didn't get that already) BDSM, sap. (yes, I am aware that BDSM and sap is a rather odd pairing.)

Disclaimers: WEP owns Voltron, and it's awfully fortunate they don't know what use I'm putting their l'il bishonen to.

Lance barely recognized the high-pitched whining, almost keening noise that arose from his throat as his voice as those hands, those merciless hands, wrung from him any sense of resistance, any sense of focus or even outside awareness. They smoldered against his skin, forcing his nerve endings to leap with almost painful alacrity, sending a single coherent thought to his rapidly spinning mind: "STOP!"

As quickly as that, the whine in the back of his throat changed to a snarl as he almost reflexively grabbed those hands and rolled, pinning his assailant beneath him, holding the torturous hands above the mass of black hair spread across the pillow. Better. His gasps slowed to panting, then to merely heavy breathing that stirred those dark locks beneath him.

"You..." he stopped as his voice came out merely a croak from his dry, abused throat, and swallowed almost painfully. "You really in that much of a hurry? At that rate, I'm not going to last long enough to make this interesting."

"Oh, it's interesting" his lover breathed, dark eyes threatening to engulf him even now. Then a flicker of a smile touched Keith's lips. "I like watching you squirm."

With that Keith pulled his hands free – or tried to. Lance had been expecting the move, and tightened his grip, shifting more of his weight onto his arms to make full use of his leverage advantage. Keith's eyes widened, and his mouth opened to sharply inhale, his tongue slightly curled. Despite the lack of oxygen currently being delivered to Lance's brain, he could tell the reaction wasn't from surprise. Interesting.... Very.

"I know you do. But don't you think you get enough of that when you're my Captain?"

Keith had adjusted to the new hold, compensated, and this time he broke it. Lance found himself aggressively flipped back over. "But when I'm your Captain" Keith half-whispered roughly into his ear "the view isn't nearly this good."

True to his word as always, Lance didn't manage to hold out much beyond that. It was only some consolation that Keith didn't outlast the throes of Lance's collapse, but with Keith you learned to take what consolation you could.

That thought, along with Keith's enticing and unexpected reaction to being confined, was foremost in Lance's thoughts as he wrapped exhausted arms around his sweat-slicked partner.

//"Don't you ever get tired of being in control all the time?"

Keith stiffens – slightly – in Lance's arms. "I do, but I can't seem to help myself..."//

Lance could barely restrain a wicked grin at the response.

"You know," he started, then paused to deliver a flat-tongue swipe from the point of Keith's shoulder, up the side of his neck to just below his ear. Keith shivered under the unexpected, unusual gesture as Lance savored the clean, salty flavor of his lover's flesh. "I could help with that, if you're willing..."

It had taken two weeks for everything he wanted to arrive. He was heady with anticipation, but knew he had to keep a close rein on himself. Taking control from Keith, even control Keith wanted to give up, was a daunting prospect. He was glad for the two weeks. It had given them time to talk. People who thought the spontaneity was ruined by discussion were obviously ignorant of everything involved in this sort of encounter. He laughed at his own phrasing. Even he was trying to couch it in harmless terms. He lit the candles.

Keith entered Lance's room after a cursory knock. It was dim, and he sniffed appreciatively. Candles.... Candles lit by the faint tinges of sulfur. Lance had taken the trouble to procure actual candles and matches to produce that incomparable aroma. The light of candles could be easily duplicated by computer-controlled light boxes, but that scent could not be artificially reproduced.

Lance, standing barefoot in a turtleneck and jeans, looked different in the wan, flickering light. Almost translucent, not entirely there, with a myriad of possible expressions barely illuminated, not long enough for Keith to decipher which might actually be present on his mercurial lover's face.

"Take off your shirt and lie down."

So it was to begin already. Keith shivered slightly in response to the throaty tone of command so unusual in Lance's normally laughing voice. But it was not an irregular command, certainly nothing threatening. He divested himself of his shirt, crossed to the somewhat newly familiar comfort of Lance's bed and lay down.

"Turn over."

There was a moment's pause there. In this uncertain lighting, Keith would much rather keep an eye on what his partner was doing, but he wanted this, and for now such a request was certainly harmless. He rolled onto his stomach.

He didn't hear Lance cross the intervening space, so when the bed creaked under his added weight, Keith flinched slightly. But he did not flinch when Lance straddled him, thighs barely touching his sides; or when his lover's hands, hot and slick with some oil, began gently but effectively massaging his back. Keith was surprised at the tension revealed under those sure, firm strokes. He wasn't nervous... it was sex. Nothing would happen tonight that hadn't happened between them before, just the addition of "props"... so why were Lance's strong, capable hands pulling out knots Keith wasn't aware were present? Pleasant, though. The feel of those familiar hands coaxing the tension patiently from him. Almost enough to put him to sleep...

Then Lance's weight shifted, and his voice was suddenly right in Keith's ear, his quiet breath hot and moist and... hesitant? "You're sure?"

His hands caressed their way across Keith's shoulders, down to his biceps and forearms. "Of course."

Lance moved slightly again, and Keith felt something cool snake its way around his wrist. He looked to see Lance fastening the buckle of a leather wristband, lined in soft fleece. Again the voice came in his ear. "You're sure?"

This time Keith could only nod as Lance shifted to the other side and attached another restraint.

"Turn over."

Keith turned onto his back and, not quite understanding the force of the impulse, lifted one hand to lightly touch Lance's face. His lover turned into the touch, grazed his lips against Keith's palm, then ducked to kiss his lips lightly. "You're sure."

Those hazel eyes, flickering with concern in the dim candlelight, were at that moment the most captivating thing Keith had ever seen. He didn't understand, entirely, the reason for the concern, but he knew it was real, and was touched by it. "Yes."

"Remember" Lance's voice was still oddly throaty, still unnaturally quiet even against the stillness of the room as gentle hands worked their way down Keith's body and relieved him of the rest of his clothing "the colors. Yellow, I ease up. Red, I stop what I'm doing, but the play continues. Black, everything stops. I promise. I'll be listening for those words."

"I trust you." As he spoke, Keith felt similar fleece-lined bands, shackled together, being buckled around his ankles. He hadn't expected his legs to be bound as well, but the care Lance was displaying kept him from flinching away. Truth be known, he almost resented the colors Lance had given him. He wanted to lose control, and here his lover was, seemingly doing everything in his power to make sure Keith still had it. He wouldn't use them of course, but that didn't stop the awareness of them, the possibility that Keith could still control Lance with a simple word.

"Get up."

Keith rose in one fluid motion and stood next to the bed. Lance walked a few feet away. "Come here."

The terse commands were starting to have an effect on Keith, but a subtle one. He quietly bit the inside of his mouth, the short flash of pain preventing a dawning erection. He didn't know why, but for some reason it seemed important to him not to let Lance have the pleasure of seeing him aroused by it just yet. His eyebrows creased a fraction. Where had that thought come from? He crossed to stand directly in front of his lover, just a little too close. Lance was not cast at all off-balance, and Keith felt the corner of his mouth twitch... in annoyance?

Lance placed a hand on his side, then trailed it down his leg lightly. Keith glanced down to see him loop a piece of rope through a d-ring on Keith's ankle restraint. Then he repeated the motions on the other side, picked up two more ropes and stood, the ends of the ropes in one hand. "Raise your arms."

Funny, his arms felt heavy, his muscles almost sluggish... or reticent. He did as Lance ordered, but slowly, suddenly completely absorbed by the way Lance's breath escaped his lips as they stretched into a languorous, but faint, smile. The other two ropes were run through d-rings on the leather bracelets, but there was no tension on them, Keith could still move freely. Lance stepped back into the shadows until Keith could see his silhouette, but not his features.

"Last chance. You're sure?"

"Yes." This time it came out in an annoyed growl. Keith thought he heard a soft, almost smug chuckle from the shadows that hid Lance, but wasn't sure. He heard the satiny whisk of pulleys a moment before his arms were pulled out to about a 15° angle from his shoulders and his heels skidded slightly across the floor as the pressure at his ankles inched them apart to the extent of the hobbles. Experimentally, he tugged against the bonds and felt about an inch of give, then nothing. He pulled harder, with the same results. The sudden thudding of his heart tried to compete for his attention against his instantly erect penis, and failed.

He was trapped. His arms out, just higher than his shoulders, his legs slightly more than the comfortable shoulders-width apart. Somehow some part of him had expected that Lance would give him some leave, that if he really tugged at the bindings, his limbs would come free, but they did not. He was trapped. The repetition of the thought gave him no peace of mind. Trapped. He tugged forcefully, throwing his whole strength against the ropes to no avail, as Lance crossed the short space between them. A hand came up to caress his face, soothing, almost, except that he still couldn't move his arms or legs, and then Lance kissed him, briefly, on the mouth.

"I didn't know..." his lover breathed "you'd be so beautiful like this."

Keith found himself flinching away from Lance's mouth, something he'd never done before. He felt Lance smiling against his lips as he came in for another kiss that Keith couldn't evade. A part of Keith's mind wanted to say "yellow" or "red" or even "black", but what was Lance really doing? Nothing. A kiss. Harmless... so why did he feel this way? Driven by the beginnings of frustration, he leaned suddenly, sharply, into the kiss, but Lance was no longer there.

With a touch of mockery in his laugh, Lance looked at Keith from two feet away, shaking his head slightly. "Clumsy, Keith. You'll have to do better than that." His voice was still low and quiet though; it was a sensual taunt. "Of course," he continued as he moved slowly to one side, just into the shadows again "you'll also have to consider the wisdom of trying again."

He moved back into view holding something... maybe more than one thing. The slowness of his movements and speech, the quiet, lulled voice he'd adopted, and the dim, flickering shadowed room combined for a disorienting, surreal effect. Keith squeezed his eyes shut for a moment, trying to pull his senses back into order.

"Ah-ah." Lance chided. "Eyes open."

Keith opened his eyes as he felt something brush lightly, slowly, down his chest. He looked down to see what resembled a riding crop with a wide, flat leather loop at one end. Lance stepped closer, almost touching him, their bodies separated by scant inches as the leather trailed a tickling path down his left side. Lance leaned his head forward so his lips were just to the right of Keith's own, and when he spoke his breath gusted warm against his face. "Well? Would you like a taste?"

Moving quickly, Keith tried to capture those lips so infuriatingly close to his own. Once again Lance anticipated him and pulled away, but this time the retreat was accompanied by a loud "CRACK" as, with a deft flick of his wrist, Lance snapped the crop against the outside of Keith's thigh.

The reaction was extremely gratifying. Keith's whole body instantly tensed, muscles rippling into definition, as his eyes shot wide open and a quick gasp flew from his parted lips. Lance knew just how much that blow stung, but also knew it was a quick pain, flashed and forgotten. He was more concerned at the moment with controlling his own reactions. He couldn't allow himself to be too effected by the atmosphere he'd created, by the sight of Keith before him. At the moment, he wasn't quite sure how he was going to manage that.

The beginning hadn't been a problem, despite the allure of Keith's hesitation upon first entering the room and that faint tension Lance had massaged away. Even when Keith stood before him naked and allowed Lance to rig the restraints, there was no threat. But after the ropes were tightened, after Keith tested them the first time, then tried with force... the flash of emotions playing across his face when he really began to understand and fought the bindings earnestly had nearly undone Lance on the spot. It was the single most erotic thing he'd ever seen.

Lance lightly trailed the leather loop down the side of Keith's thigh, entranced by the way the muscles there twitched under tight skin as he brushed over the newly-sensitive redness left by the crop. He needed – needed – to step back, get some air, but not ease up on Keith in doing so. It was going to be an interesting evening.

Keith felt the sharp sting fading, leaving behind a sensation of heat and tingling sensitivity. The shock was fading too, leaving behind something far less tangible. Lance took another step back (remaining, however, Keith thought with irritation, within arm's- reach... if he could move his arms). Keith watched him with some apprehension even as he took advantage of the lack of touch to try to regroup. Lance met his gaze with a tiny smirk playing at the corner of his mouth and slowly pulled off his shirt. Smoothly, in one agonizing, graceful movement that he turned as if unconsciously into a luxurious stretch, admirably displaying the long, clean lines of his muscles as they extended and tightened, their play enhanced by the darting candlelight.

Keith's hand twitched. Lance caught the motion through half-closed eyes and smiled indulgently. Keith liked to use those talented hands, liked to touch, which was fine with him since he liked very much to be touched by Keith, but tonight Keith wasn't going to be allowed that pleasure, and Lance knew it was going to drive him crazy. He voiced the thought as he completed the stretch by rolling his shoulders back and dropping his head slightly to look up at Keith from under his hair. "You want to touch me, don't you?"

Keith glared at him, and Lance allowed the smile to become a laugh. "Such a dangerous look for someone in your position!" maybe a little over the top, but let's see how far he's willing to play along. He stepped close again, his sparkling eyes meeting Keith's dark ones. "Answer me."

"No." Keith growled. Lance was delighted. Keith was, it seemed, quite willing to play.

Fluidly, Lance ducked under his arm, out of his line of sight. An instant later, Keith heard a whoosh of air that gave him just enough time to make the mistake of tensing his muscles before the leather smacked sharply against his ass. Before the sting could fade into heat, Lance lightly grazed the area with his fingernails, eliciting a quiet hiss from Keith. Lance leaned forward until his lips brushed against Keith's ear and whispered "Do you want to touch me?"

"Yes."

Lance rewarded this admission by applying his talented mouth to Keith's ear and neck as his arms came around from behind, hands gliding smoothly over skin, making sure to brush against his nipples, the inward curve just above his hip-bone, that one spot just under his right ribs... And when he let a hand deliver one brief stroke to the enticing cock he'd been so scrupulously avoiding until that point, he was rewarded in turn by the sudden sheen of sweat that broke out over Keith's entire body and the soft noise that escaped from his throat.

"Well you can't. You can't touch me. You can't do anything but take whatever I decide to give you."

Keith's muscles flexed in response, and Lance could hear the ropes groaning slightly against the pulleys. Instead of quickly ducking under the ropes, this time Lance pressed his body against Keith's and slid around him maintaining as much contact as possible, making especially certain that Keith could feel the hardness of his erection through the rough fabric of his jeans. He pressed against Keith's ass, his hip, down the side of his thigh as he ducked under Keith's arm, up the front of his thigh... He stepped back. That earned him another glare, and he laughed.

"You're going to have to control those looks of yours." Taking the crop from where he'd tucked it into the back of his jeans, he brushed it, feather-light and agonizing, across Keith's groin, then against his penis. "I can punish looks like that you know. Or maybe...." Lance crossed once more out of sight, and looped around so he was behind Keith again. Leaning forward he whispered against his ear "...Maybe I just won't let you look."

Almost reflexively Keith flinched away as Lance raised the blindfold to cover his eyes, but that didn't stop him. Keith felt cool velvet brush against his skin as Lance tied the blindfold on, careful to not catch any of Keith's hair in the knot, and his world went dark.

Against all reason, Keith felt his heart beat a touch faster at having his sight deprived. There is no threat here he reminded himself. But his body, constrained and blinded, would not listen to reason. The slight brush of denim as Lance took a step back seemed unnaturally loud, and his ear, which had been warmed by Lance's whispered breath upon it, seemed chill in his absence.

There was a long moment in which nothing happened. Keith could hear even the slightest noises. He could hear his own breath, and Lance's. He could hear that a candle to his left was beginning to gut and flicker. And there was nothing more. Himself. Lance. Candles. And the growing tension that prickled his skin, the anticipation of the end of that still moment.

The blow came hard and fast, not the leather this time, but the shaft of the crop, cracking across the back of his thighs. He could not stop the cry that escaped his lips. The pain was not as sharp, but it was deeper, darker. Before he even finished drawing a ragged breath in, the crop flew again, this time the stinging leather slapping his ass twice in quick succession, then moving to his legs, flat, stinging blows until the final shot right across the mark left by the crop. The pain of that made him cry out again, this time almost a whimper. Then Lance's voice was back as he moved, insinuating, with almost a trace of mockery. "I don't think I've ever seen you this hard. I bet you didn't think pain could turn you on. That you'd be... above this sort of thing. Always the proper Captain, neat and clean. How clean do you feel right now?"

Keith couldn't answer. He was right, partially. At Lance's words Keith allowed himself a vision of how he must look right now, bound and naked, blindfolded with welts rising on the backs of his legs and a painful arousal straining for touch. No, he hadn't thought he was the type to be turned on this way. It wasn't something that had entered even his most private fantasies, though he knew it would haunt them from now on. But clean? Yes, he felt clean. Not merely washed in tepid water, but scoured by flames, licked by tongues of fire until all of his impurities were burned away. He wished he wasn't wearing the blindfold. He wanted Lance to see the flames burning in his eyes.

Lance had come around in front of him again, and even as Keith struggled to frame a reply, he was accosted with a new sensation as Lance brushed a stiff feather across his chest. A strange noise, almost a laugh, was choked out of him, not because it tickled, but because of the extreme and sudden contrast between the pain and the impossibly light new touch. Lance continued speaking, alternately ghosting and scraping the feather across his sweat- dampened skin, eliciting spine-tingling shivers. "I knew though. That you weren't `above' this. I could see it in your eyes, the things you couldn't even admit to yourself that you wanted." He leaned close, almost cheek-to-cheek, and whispered "I've seen the flames, Keith." Keith's mouth went suddenly dry.

Lance breathed in the scent of Keith's hair. Too much. It was too much. He was caught up in the dim flickering lights, the heavy silences, and most of all, the impossible sensuality of the man before him. The blindfold was both blessing and torment – it freed him from the looming power of Keith's eyes, but in doing so it only accented the perfection of his other features, and forced a picture of vulnerability that threatened to shatter Lance to his core. He was beginning to realize he was in over his head. Time to change the plan, if he didn't back off, he was going to lose it completely. His mind was supplying urges he knew he couldn't indulge, places he just shouldn't take Keith in his first experience. But if he gave himself that kind of distance, he may lose Keith the other way… inspiration struck, and he was glad Keith could not see the wicked smile that crossed his face. Just a little longer…

He brushed the feather slowly down the length of Keith's penis, from base to tip, relishing the quiet moan that escaped trembling lips. He saw his jaw clench. He knew it had to ache, had wanted to make Keith ask him for the touch that would relieve it, but really wasn't in any condition himself to fight that battle just now. He closed one callused hand around the hot silk-and-steel of Keith's sex, barely stifling a moan of his own at the contact. Keith uttered an indescribable gasp/cry/sigh/groan, the mere sound of which almost made Lance come in his pants. Almost imperceptibly, Keith's pelvis started to move, seeking friction. Lance used the quill end of his feather to inflict a quick, light scratch on his groin.

"Ah–ah. Stay still. You move, I stop touching you."

He flinched slightly, but stilled. Lance took a moment to absorb the picture he made, chest rising and falling and abs tightening with each heavy breath, muscles strained with the effort of not moving under this torment. Gods, how could anyone be that beautiful? He dropped the feather, and while with one hand he started delivering slow, pumping strokes, he used the other to unfasten his jeans. Keith heard the zipper, and licked his lips lightly. FUCK! He needed out, now, or he'd lose it. Releasing Keith, he took a couple quick steps back and slid out of his jeans, staring at one of the candles because he couldn't handle looking at his lover. It helped. Taking a deep breath, he regrouped as much as possible as the grin returned and he picked up a candle.

Keith heard the jeans hit the floor, heard Lance pick something up, walk closer, and set it down. The temporary relief of finally being touched was fading under the weight of tense anticipation. What was he doing?

"Close your eyes. I'm taking off the blindfold. If you open your eyes before I tell you to, I'm putting it back on."

Keith kept himself from sighing in relief and closed his eyes. The blindfold was removed and dropped, and Lance stepped away again. "Open your eyes."

Lance stood a few feet away with a candle at his feet, casting bright illumination and sharply dancing shadows across his naked form. One hand drifted almost negligently to claim his penis and began delivering the same long, slow strokes he'd given Keith. His eyes were intently focused on Keith's. Keith tried to hold the gaze, but could not help but let his eyes flicker down to where Lance touched himself. He felt his hand tremble, but quickly stilled it. Lance would see that, would know how desperately Keith wanted to touch him.

Lance smiled a ruthless, wicked smile, his voice teasing and husky "You can almost feel me, can't you? Against your palm, under your fingertips." And he could. Remembered tactile sensations pressed against his empty hands. Without breaking eye contact, Lance turned to an angle and sank slowly to his knees, then leaned back until he was lying down on the floor. Running one hand smoothly over his own body, he reached out with the other and picked up the candle. As he lifted it over himself, his form became shadowy, dimmed beneath the bright flame. Then the flame began to jump and waver as Lance slowly, deliberately, tipped the candle, allowing a hot drop of molten wax to land on his bare chest.

Lance hissed in air through his teeth at the contact, his chest contracting in a quick shiver under the burn. His other hand drifted soothingly across his skin as another drop fell, lower, before the first had a chance to cool. He allowed a whimper to escape from his lips, knowing Keith would want to hear him, and pushed his nails quickly, lightly into his thigh. Another drop, this one hitting the more sensitive skin of his stomach, muscles spasming shortly at the treatment, then another, lower still. A mewling groan. With his free hand, he slid the edge of his thumb up the length of his erection, then down, tracing his fingers lightly against the delicate skin as he brought the candle further up his chest. He lowered it to mere centimeters above his flesh, hovering just above his throat, so the light darted over the planes of his face. He tipped the candle again and held it for a moment, crying out softly as wax poured in a thin burning stream into the hollow of his throat, trickling along his collarbone and down his shoulders before cooling enough to solidify. With his breathing slightly ragged, he turned his head to see Keith's reaction.

Mistake. The tension he'd melted out of his body came back full force at the sight that met his eyes. His slightly flagging erection responded instantly under Keith's eyes, black and burning with lust. His lips were parted, his body strained against the ropes, and his hands, those hands that could drive Lance to distraction.... he'd twisted them in the shackles and managed to grasp the ropes that held them suspended. Fine-boned wrists sharply angled, his hands gripped and caressed the ropes in completely involuntary motions. Lance doubted Keith was aware of them at all.

"Oh FUCK!" The groan was ripped from his throat as he rose and staggered into the shadows.

A moment later Keith felt the ropes slacken slightly. He could move. Not much, but after being so inflexibly restrained, this small freedom caused his heart to lurch with relief as his muscles ceased straining.

"Kneel." The growled command from the dark edges of the room had Keith obeying without thought as the ropes slid slowly through pulleys, giving him just enough leeway to lower himself to his knees. It was not until he was halfway down that he felt the flash of indignant rebellion, but by then it was too late to gracefully resist. On his knees, he lifted his chin and set his jaw stubbornly, like a brave man facing execution.

And for a moment that was exactly how he felt as Lance strode forcefully from the shadows, his face dark with intensity, his eyes flashing and focused. Keith did not even have time to blink before Lance stood before him and reached around, grasping a thick handful of hair, tugging Keith's head back. He stood so close, Keith had to crane his neck to meet his eyes, which, by a strange trick of the light, glinted even though his face was obscured by shadows and a soft fall of hair. There passed an electric, immobile moment before Lance's hand in his hair reversed pressure, pushing his head gently forward.

Keith ran his hands up the sides of Lance's legs, finally allowed to relish the texture of his lover's skin under his own hyper- sensitive hands. He parted his lips and slid them over the head of Lance's cock, curling and sliding his tongue around its shape, then brought it deeper. Exorcising the surreal atmosphere by absorbing the feel of solid flesh under and inside him, he was brought to the point where giving is taking, and wanted to take more. With a sudden, devouring possessiveness his fingers dug into Lance's lean-muscled thighs and his tongue pressed greedily along his sex.

Just as suddenly, his head was tugged sharply back by the fingers still entwined in his hair. "Enough. Put your hands on the floor." Keith balked. Lance pulled his head back until he was forced to meet those eyes, still glinting in a darkened face. Keith arched his neck back even further, and Lance let him use the movement to ease the pull against his scalp. There was another oddly silent moment, punctuated by short, heavy breaths, before Keith slowly lowered his hands to the floor.

"Keep them there." Lance's voice, still quiet, sounded strained. He buried both hands in Keith's thick hair, and as Keith took him in his mouth again, gripped, holding Keith's head still. He slowly pushed his hips forward a fraction, then back, gradually increasing his tempo into short, shallow thrusts. Rapid, not deep enough to gag. Keith could feel a disbelieving whine build in the back of his throat as Lance... he could think of no other way to put it... fucked his mouth, leaving him helpless, unable to do anything more than keep his teeth out of the way. Then the silence was shattered by Lance's low, sobbing groan. His hands released their grip in his hair and Keith willingly took him deeper as he felt the throbbing pulses between his lips and tasted the bitterness that slid down his throat.

It was all Lance could do to not collapse as Keith gently sucked and licked him clean. But as his quivering muscles returned slowly to his command, and his breath and pulse steadied, a calmness descended on him. He could feel himself re-centering, could feel a coolly intense focus building, dedicated entirely to the man shackled on his knees before him. Taking a small step back, he tucked a bent forefinger under Keith's chin and lifted it, continuing the pressure to indicate he was to stand.

Keith began to open his mouth as if to speak, but Lance shook his head, stilling him. They regarded each other for a moment, then Lance's lips twisted into a slight, wry smile and he raised a finger to them in the gesture for silence, then placed the finger against Keith's lips. He then eyed the slack ropes, and turned back to the shadows.

"No." Keith's voice was soft and hesitant. He was almost surprised to have spoken, but he couldn't let Lance tighten the ropes again without some protest. Lance stopped dead and turned to look at him, as if he was waiting for something. That impression increased as one thin eyebrow lifted. Then Keith realized what he was waiting for: a safety word. Safety. Keith's look became defiant, and he raised his arms back into the position they'd been held in. Some indecipherable expression flickered across Lance's face as he turned back and disappeared into the darkness that lined the room. The ropes tightened once more.

Lance glided back into view with an almost predatory focus. Without hesitation, he crossed to Keith and seized his lips with his own. Keith felt himself nearly come undone under the intensity of the kiss. His skin, built to hypersensitivity, barely even registered the feel of Lance's hands, so engulfed were his senses by the mouth plundering his. He pushed his tongue against Lance's, only to have Lance suck it into his mouth, his own tongue stroking and flickering against the captive, releasing only when they both began finding it difficult to breathe. From there the kisses slowly changed. Still devouring, but more slowly, savoring, rolling the flavor of his lover over his tongue, drawing closer a canopy of Bengal heat around them. And as Lance abandoned his mouth and began kissing his way in a hot, damp trail down his body, Keith could feel a pressure begin to coil within him, pulsing tight and constrained as Lance, with agonizing slowness, smoothly slid his lips over the head of his penis and began, centimeter by excruciating centimeter, to swallow him.

Quite literally, as it turned out. By the time he stilled, he'd taken Keith's sex all the way back into his throat, and Keith was having difficulty not writhing in the restraints. Then Lance pressed the tip of his tongue firmly against the underside of Keith's cock, and slowly, slowly undulated the pressure back along his length, ending with a constricting, swallowing motion of his throat. Spots swam before Keith's vision, and it would have been difficult to classify the noise that fell from his lips. Earlier, Lance had shown him that pain could be a pleasure. He was now intent, it seemed, on demonstrating the flip side of that coin. Keith realized that he was trembling.

But he could stop it. He could take control. Just one word. It was not until he found himself unable to force the word out that he realized the paradox. Using the word was, in itself, losing control. And he couldn't do it. He remembered his admission, I can't seem to help myself. It was truer than he knew. For the first time since they'd started, he felt something akin to fear. But it had nothing to do with Lance, it was with himself as he began to realize both how deeply ingrained and illusory his control really was.

Lance was completely enveloped by Keith, though he vaguely knew, given their relative positions, it should have been the other way around. But the warmth radiating from his body, the jungle-damp smoothness of his skin under his hands, the way his scent filled the air, and the hot, hard organ that filled Lance's mouth stole all of his focus from anything beyond Keith. Swallowing, sliding back just enough to open an air passage, breathe, swallowing again. He could feel Keith trembling, fighting. He continued to coax, until something hazily registered in his mind as wrong.

He slid his hand back up Keith's calf, over his knee... his locked knee. Keith knew better than to lock out his knees. Concern escalated as he stood and saw his lover's face. Struggle was written there in tight features, eyes squeezed shut, but far more worrisome were the rapid, shallow breaths, so quick and harsh that his nostrils pinched in with each sharp inhalation. Fear flooding through him, Lance grabbed Keith's chin, forcing his mouth open.

"Breathe!"

breathe Of course. Keith drew in a long, shuddering breath. The muscles in his face relaxed, and he opened his eyes. His vision was dominated by Lance's panic-filled eyes. beautiful In the fickle light, Lance's eyes were dark, he could not see the green and gold flecks dancing in them. But the emotions playing across their darkened surface tugged so strongly at his heart he felt the sting that preceded tears. He blinked to banish them, but rapidly, so as to not miss a moment of those expressive eyes that could so easily become his whole world.

"Are you okay? Why didn't you say somethi-"

"Please..." Keith's whisper was hoarse, but it effectively cut Lance off mid-word. "Lance... don't stop."

Their eyes spoke across the narrow distance. Slowly Lance placed his hands lightly on Keith's face and leaned forward and touched his lips to Keith's briefly. Then, keeping his eyes locked on Keith's, he let his hands drift gently down the sides of his neck, along his shoulders, his arms, until their hands touched. He stood like that for a moment, Keith thought, like a brighter reflection of himself. Then Lance began to move, began to touch him, and it was like he was a new being. Gentleness had been stripped away by the rawness of emotion. The silence of the room seemed almost weighty, the atmosphere something unearthly and laden.

Lance's hands trailed fire across his skin, leaving in their wake singed, aching nerves, slowly uncoiling, seeking more. They unraveled, and left him. He could sense the tendrils of himself drifting away into the flickering shadows, and was powerless to pull them back. Powerless to do anything but whimper under Lance's fiery touch, his senses so overridden that he was left nearly numb, like the warm lassitude that steals over winter's victims just before they freeze to death.

Then he heard Lance speaking, but his voice sounded odd, not like Lance at all. Maybe it was because it seemed so far away, distant and muffled. "Do you know why it's so quiet? Why there are candles? It's because this is a temple. And that makes you a god. So the question is, did I come here to worship or to desecrate?"

Even in pieces as he was, Keith knew the answer to that. Next would come a litany of what had been and could be done to desecrate him – a bound and scattered false god – and it would bear Lance's wicked sense of humor, and maybe it would give Keith the strength to pull back those tendrils. But at the moment, they were unraveling faster than ever, and he could feel his very core beginning to loosen. He wondered why he couldn't see anything, until he realized his eyes were closed. He opened them and tried to let a smile tug at his lips. "Desecrate."

Lance's eyes filled his vision, infinite and inscrutable, swimming with emotions he'd never seen and couldn't put a name to. Seeming to move in slow motion, Lance raised his hand to gently touch his fingertips to the side of Keith's face and shook his head slightly. "Worship."

How could Lance's voice, barely louder than a whisper, be so achingly pure? How could those hesitant fingers trembling slightly against his cheek have the strength to pull him so forcefully back to himself? All of his scattered pieces, called back by that reverent word, hurtled into place, pummeling him with sensations knifing unerringly with throbbing pleasure through the center of his being. Shock widened his eyes and his mouth fell open, but the scream stayed in his mind as his entire body convulsed with the force of his orgasm and his world rushed into a tiny point of blackness.

Then Lance's hands were caressing his face, and his lips were pressing against his eyelids, his temple, the corner of his mouth, and between those kisses came whispers, but Keith couldn't make out what he was saying. Suddenly he realized his right arm hung by his side, no longer suspended. He used it to pull Lance against him, and Lance's arms went around him, holding him tightly, pressing their bodies together as if trying to meld them into one.

They stayed like that for a long moment, then Lance pulled back enough to place an odd, subdued kiss on Keith's lips. Sliding down into a crouch, he unfastened first one leg restraint, letting his fingers graze lightly over skin reddened by pressure despite the soft fleece lining of the shackles, then moved to the other, repeating the gesture. He then stood, unbuckled Keith's remaining suspended arm, and kissed his wrist which, Keith noted with some surprise, was somewhat raw. Finally, he unbuckled the shackle from Keith's free arm, kissing there as well.

Then he seemed to shake himself, and with a wry expression, he tugged the rope attached to the shackle. Keith heard something drag across the floor. Smirking, Lance held up the rope, still run through a pulley. The bolts of the pulley were still connected to a chunk of plaster. "How," Lance began, in almost his normal voice, fixing his lover with an amused gaze, "am I going to explain why there's a hole in my ceiling?"

Keith just stared. He'd done that? The realization and Lance's sudden return to normalcy left him a little lost, and he just held out his hands with a helpless laugh.

Lance grabbed his hand and lifted it to his lips, kissing his palm then meeting his eyes, amusement gone. "You were incredible." A slight pause. "You are incredible."

Keith shook his head marginally, and cupped Lance's face in his hands. "Worship" he whispered against his lips, and proceeded -- with his whole soul -- to do just that.