Disclaimer: WEP owns Voltron. I just roll 'em up and smoke 'em.

A loud belch echoed across the table. Four wide-eyed men jumped, startled, whipping their drunken and rather wavery collective gaze on the smallest member of the crew.

“Damn, Pidge,” said Lance. “Good one.”

“We need a new game,” slurred Sven into the Formica.

“Agreed,” said Keith. “That was disgusting.”

Lance staggered to the keg, managing to get most of the dark brew into his mug before stumbling and sloshing it all over the floor. “Less play truth or dare,” he lisped before collapsing heavily back into his chair.

“Okay,” said Hunk. Of the five men, he seemed the least drunk of the bunch. “Sven. Truth or dare.” He slammed back what looked like another quart or so of beer, making Keith’s stomach roil with the task of just watching. How could a man consume so much liquid?

“Uh… what was the question?” said Sven. He still had his face pressed into the tabletop. Keith started to wonder if the muscles in his neck had become paralyzed from alcohol poisoning.

“He said truth or dare, idiot,” said Lance.

A wobbly forefinger raised itself into the air before tapping the table. “Dare,” came the barely intelligible reply.

Hunk blinked. It was clear that he hadn’t thought of any really cool things to dare Sven to do. He shrugged and looked over at Lance, who shrugged back.

“I dare you to lick my ass,” giggled Pidge, and promptly fell out of his chair. Keith scowled.

“I think you’ve had enough, Pidge.”

“Shut the fuck up… sir.” Pidge climbed back up, with some difficulty, and grinned wickedly at Sven, who still hadn’t moved. “He’s too drunk to take a dare.”

Sven’s loud snore rumbled against the tabletop.

“I say we dress him up like RuPaul and leave him in Allura’s bed,” said Hunk. “That’s bound to get interesting sooner or later.”

“Bo-ring,” said Lance. “That’s been done to death.”

“Since when were you ever bored with dressing Sven up like RuPaul? I thought that was one of your specialties,” teased Hunk. “Or have you gotten bored with crossdressing and moved on to something a little more interesting?”

“Yeah. Truth or dare, Lance,” said Pidge, suddenly, his green eyes sparkling with mirth.

Lance returned the stare. “Truth.”

“Okay, hotshot. I want you to tell us how many people you’ve had sex with. And if you have a hard time counting on your fingers, you have permission to borrow mine for the time being, since they don’t seem to quite work right anymore.”

Hunk’s face contorted for a moment. “Um… s’cuse me for a moment, guys? I’m gonna go piss like a racehorse and puke like a dog. Not necessarily in that order.” He scooted back in his chair and rose with a heaviness that belied his true state: Hunk was as drunk, if not more drunk, than his companions.

“I’ll join you,” chirped Pidge. “As soon as Lance answers the question.”

Keith rubbed his temples, feeling close to puking himself. Why had he authorized a kegger on Coran’s night off?

Lance’s embarrassed expression broke his thoughts. “Well?” he asked impatiently.

“I- um…”

“Lost count?” said Pidge with a knowing grin.

“Uh…” Lance seemed suddenly embarrassed.

“Well, you see, it’s like this. I’m still a-“

“NO FUCKIN’ WAY!” hollered Pidge, loud enough to jolt Keith nearly out of his chair. “Man, even I’ve-“

Keith’s eyes widened and he clamped his hands over his ears. “Laaa laaa laaa! I can’t hear you! Too much information!”

Pidge folded his arms. “Oh, shut up, Keith. Everybody has done something by the time they’re our age!”

“Apparently not Lance!”

Lance’s face turned a most unflattering shade of purple. “Look, I just haven’t taken the time to… oh, never mind, it’s complicated.” Suddenly sullen, he took another swig of beer. “Pidge, who did you-“

Pidge rolled his eyes I can’t _believe_ this jerk and snapped his head in the direction of the hallway, where Hunk had gone.

“Oh, man,” groaned Lance. “That is a mental image I could have done without.”

“Look, guys, it’s late. Let’s wrap this up, okay? Pidge, get some medication into Hunk as soon as he quits puking. Lance, help me sober Sven up a bit. It’s way past lights out.” Keith grabbed Sven’s shoulder, wavering slightly as he took the other man’s weight in his arms. Breaking open a glass vial, he poured the sickly gray fluid into Sven’s mouth. He pinched the Swede’s nose until a ripple worked its way down his neck.

“Party pooper,” said Pidge. He gagged, but obediently swallowed the ethanol antidote that Keith handed him, and grabbed a second dose for the mechanic, heading towards the rest room with a grim sense of purpose. Keith and Lance winced as they eyed their own bottles, and looked at each other.

“Naaah,” they said in unison, and smiled.

“I’m gonna knock off, if you don’t mind,” said Keith as they tucked Sven into bed (well, okay, they dumped him across it sideways and left his shoes on. But at least they didn’t leave him snoring into the Formica.) “It’s been a long night.”

“Okay,” said Lance, clicking the door shut behind him.

Keith shuffled awkwardly in the hallway. “Look, I’m sure Pidge didn’t mean to embarrass you back there. I mean, we all thought you were, um, more experienced than you are. That’s how you let on, anyway. Unless of course you were lying.”

“Sorry, I told the truth. The game’s called truth or dare.”

Keith leaned up drunkenly against the wall, squinting at the dim lights coming from the rec room. “Haven’t you ever wondered… I mean, haven’t you ever wanted to find out?”

“I guess so.” Lance’s eyes narrowed. There was more than a hint of suggestion in Keith’s tone, in the fluttering of his lashes as he glanced shyly over at Lance. “What, you offering?”

Keith’s head jerked up. His black eyes flashed indecision. “Maybe.”

Lance only shrugged, leaving the next move to his captain. It wasn’t that Lance wasn’t attracted to Keith. Quite the opposite was true, in fact. He’d had a crush on the guy for years. Thing was, Lance was so damn insecure about himself, he wanted to appear cool about the whole thing, regardless of the fact that he was just about ready to hump Keith right there in the hallway.

His erection strained against the tightness of his jeans, and Lance was glad for the bulk of his jacket that covered the evidence of his arousal as he averted his eyes and affected a huge fake yawn.

“Whatever,” said Keith. “I’m going to bed. You can come with me, if you’d like.” The captain shambled off down the hallway towards his room, casting one last furtive glance in Lance’s direction.

Lance watched for a moment, heart pounding. Why was he standing there, trying to act so nonchalant?

Follow him, stupid, said a voice in his head. This might be your only chance.

Leaning against the wall for support, Lance followed Keith to his room.

“So what are we supposed to be doing?” Lance slumped against Keith’s dresser, still trying to look like he didn’t care, as Keith kicked off his shoes and began brushing out his glossy midnight hair. Gods, Lance loved that hair. He’d touched it from time to time, brushing against it with his hand as he reached for something, or in martial arts practice, those few unforgettable moments when his face had actually pressed up against those tousled raven locks. It was smooth hair, soft hair, and Lance’s fingers trembled to reach out and touch it again.

“Whatever you want,” said Keith with a wicked grin. His black eyes flashed with mischief, and Lance wondered if he’d picked up that look from Pidge. Hah! Even Pidge had more experience than he did! Suddenly trembling, Lance pulled out a cigarette and fumbled with his lighter.

“Don’t. That stinks.” Keith’s hand whipped out and jerked the cigarette from Lance’s mouth.

“Hey! You said I could do whatever!”

Keith paused and narrowed his eyes at Lance. Then he snatched Lance’s lighter and lit the cigarette himself, his full pouty lips billowing smoke in Lance’s direction before handing it back to Lance.

“Gross. I hate menthols.”

“That’s why I smoke ‘em. Nobody bums off me.” Lance took a long drag and made a face. The tip of the cigarette was wet with Keith’s saliva. “And you’re supposed to smoke it, not go down on it.”

Keith only grinned even wider. His gaze traveled over Lance’s body in a way that made Lance even more self-conscious.

“Speaking of going down-“ he began.

Lance was a pretty fidgety guy anyway, but Keith’s innuendo set his legs to twitching, and suddenly he couldn’t look into the obsidian eyes. He began to pace furiously back and forth in the small space, blowing smoke, gesturing nervously as if he were about to say something, but couldn’t come up with anything worthwhile with which to fill the growing silence in the room. And Keith’s predatory, feral expression- well, that spoke volumes.

“Good grief, Lance, you’re acting like you’re waiting on your SAT scores to come back. I just wanted to, you know… help you relax.”

Lance faced him, eyes looking everywhere but at his beautiful captain. Keith closed the distance between them, stepping into Lance’s space, taking the cigarette from his hand and pulling one more long drag out of it before stubbing it into the ashtray on his dresser.

“Lance, remember it’s me, okay? You’ve got nothing to be nervous about. You followed me in here for a reason, and you and I both know it.”

Lance’s nod was barely perceptible.

“So, relax already.” Keith’s hands found the zipper on Lance’s jacket. Lance jumped at the touch, but let Keith remove the heavy leather from his wiry body. He shivered as the protective shell peeled away from his T-shirt, letting new air touch his arms and neck. His body remembered its arousal as Keith stepped even closer, his warm breath tickling Lance’s face, scented with beer and cigarette smoke.

Lance forced himself to raise his chin, looking into the black eyes which suddenly seemed very warm and comforting. Keith’s face had never lost that touch of baby roundness, in spite of his age, and up close, Lance could sense the downy softness of the ivory skin.

And then the beautifully curved lips pressed against his.

Lance grunted in surprise as his commanding officer wrapped his arms tightly around his waist, pulling him into the embrace. And then he remembered that this was what he’d always wanted with Keith, and returned the kiss enthusiastically, aggressively.

Keith moaned, a sound which Lance felt as well as heard, and pressed hard against the other man, holding him firmly against the wall as his most intimate areas mashed against Lance. Lance felt the hardness between Keith’s legs, grinding against his thigh, and his body remembered its own arousal. He surrendered to it, let the blood rush where it would, and rocked his hips gently, steadily against Keith’s, silently communicating his need and creating maddening friction inside his own jeans.

Keith jerked away just far enough to grasp the fabric of Lance’s shirt, pulling it roughly over his head, and simultaneously pulling off his own shirt. Before Lance could catch his breath, the soft skin was pressed against his, Keith’s skin, a moist heat building in the points of contact. Lance pulled out of the kiss and chased his lips down the curve of Keith’s neck, stopping only when the other man’s lips found his own throat and moved downwards. Fingers found his nipples and teased gently; Lance hissed and stiffened as a new wave of arousal overtook him. “Uh!” came his sharp grunt.

“You like that?” murmured Keith, looking up at Lance from where his mouth was worshipping the soft little hollow between Lance’s collarbones.

“Uh-huh,” was all Lance could manage. He was fairly helpless with excitement, and his mouth didn’t seem to want to work right, couldn’t form speech.

The strong arms encircled his waist again, pulling him towards the bed. Lance collapsed on it with a little sigh as he sank into the welcoming softness. Weight pressing him down, now; fingers on his nipples again, then the velvety softness of Keith’s mouth engulfing the sensitive nubs. Lance cried out in shock, and Keith chuckled.

“You are so tasty, you know that?” Keith’s amusement was as evident as his arousal. “I could just eat you up all night.”

Lance finally managed a grin. “That doesn’t sound half bad,” he managed to whisper, although hoarsely. His speech was cut short by the caress of fingers and tongue.

Then he felt Keith’s hands on his belt, and with a start he realized that Keith was going to remove his pants now. Although he’d known this would happen, he fought instinctively, trying in vain to push the hands away.

“Hey, hey, whoa. Take it easy.” Keith stopped and touched Lance’s face, gently, his soft eyes suddenly concerned. “I’m not going to hurt you.”

“I know, it’s just that I never-“

“I know what might help.” Keith got up and went to the light switch, dimming the room. “There. Better?”

“Much,” said Lance. For some reason, not being able to see everything had a calming effect. He could focus more on the sensations, with the images removed somewhat. He only wished he could still watch the play of emotions on Keith’s beautiful face. Oh, well.

The air hit his skin, almost shockingly cold, as his jeans slid down around his ankles and disappeared into the darkness. He heard rustling and then Keith was lying beside him on the bed, and he felt the full length of Keith’s skin against his own bare body. He flinched as Keith leaned in for another kiss, not used to the touch of Keith’s arousal against his hip. Keith’s skin was soft and warm, his hardness hot to the touch, and Lance’s own cock jumped in response.

“Shhh.” Keith, ever sensitive to his reactions, soothed him with soft hands. “Relax. I’m going to show you something.”

Lance ran his fingers through the silken waves of ebony hair as Keith’s mouth found his nipples again, and then traveled downward to his stomach, the velvet tongue stroking every inch of his skin on the way down. Lance’s breathing became labored as Keith’s cheek brushed his stomach, the velvet hair tickling his navel, and then suddenly Keith’s mouth found his cock.

Lance nearly leaped out of bed when the soft lips wrapped around the head of his penis. “God damn!” he cried. The mouth pulled away.

“Lance, you have got to learn how to relax.” Keith’s voice was mildly scolding.

“I know, man, but damn.”

“You don’t like it?”

“Oh, I like it all right.” Lance settled back down onto the pillow.

“Then hold still, or I’ll bite you,” teased Keith. Even in the darkness, Lance could tell he was smiling.

A strong arm pinned his hips down, and then Lance felt the warm wetness closing over him again. A loud groan escaped his throat as Keith licked and teased him before beginning a maddening rhythm, his lips and tongue stroking Lance’s full length. Lance felt his tip against the back of Keith’s throat, the muscles in the captain’s gullet massaging his most sensitive spot. He’s deep throating me, thought Lance. Oh, shit, Keith is deep throating me. He whimpered, helpless, and his body went limp in preparation as the pressure built in his loins.

Keith must have felt the impending release, too, because he stopped and squeezed the base of Lance’s cock with his fingers. Lance groaned with frustration as his orgasm was blocked.

“That is so not fair.” Lance wished that Keith could see him pouting in the darkness.

“I ain’t done yet.” Keith’s voice was a raspy snarl. “And neither are you.”

And then the weight and the warmth were gone. Lance wondered where Keith had gone, but in a moment he was back. Lance could hear him fiddling with something, and then his presence was back, lying against Lance’s body, his soft lips closing over Lance’s mouth, now familiar.

Lance flinched and moved back as Keith’s hand dove between his legs. Keith’s fingers were suddenly unusually cool and slick.

“Hold still, dammit.” Keith’s insistent hand worked its way past his balls, touching the most private part of Lance’s body. “Relax. This won’t hurt a bit if you relax.”

Lance wasn’t so sure, but he forced his muscles to loosen and admit the lubricated finger. The slim digit crooked within him and rolled, touching some secret point inside Lance’s body that made him gasp and squirm, inadvertently clamping down again.

Keith ceased his movement. “Don’t fight. Just breathe and relax.” Lance obeyed and let the finger probe him further, stroking that sensitive spot again. Another finger entered him, stretching his opening. Keith was whispering softly to him, reminding him gently whenever his breath hitched in his throat.

“Gods, but you’re nervous, Lance. This is supposed to feel good.”

“Sorry. It’s my first time.”

“That excuse only works once, you know.” Again, Lance could hear Keith’s smile.

The hand withdrew and the strong grip was on his waist again, flipping him over, the soft thighs enclosing Lance’s legs. “This angle works best,” came the whisper in his ear. Keith’s hands tilted his hips and the fingers brushed up against his opening once more, priming him for entry.

And then it wasn’t fingers pressing up against the tight little ring of muscle. It was something more blunt, warmer than fingers, softest skin without and hardest flesh within. Lance thrust back against it, but Keith moved away.

“Slow now.” Keith’s hands flattened against his stomach, palms traveling slowly towards his groin and his drooling cock, coaching the muscles of his lower abdomen. “Push against me.”

Lance obeyed and gasped as he felt Keith slip inside him. Keith uttered a tiny groan of his own as his tip was engulfed in the incredible warmth and tightness. Inch by inch he worked his way in, pausing every so often, allowing Lance time to stretch and accommodate him. And then he was in. He squirmed and rocked ever so gently, finally locating Lance’s prostate, and adjusting the angle so he could hit it with every stroke.

Lance gasped and cried out again, involuntarily tightening again and suddenly wincing in pain as his muscles locked. Keith froze and whispered encouragement, hands stroking and soothing, calming the excitable pilot who squirmed beneath him, until his movements slowed and the little opening loosened again, allowing Keith freedom to move once again.

Keith began with long, slow strokes first, barely brushing against Lance’s sensitive spot as his hand found Lance’s cock, still hard. He stroked Lance in time with his thrusts, smiling to himself as he listened to the soft whimpering cries come from the man beneath him, evidence of his partner’s pleasure. Lance tipped his hips again, changing the angle, gasping out loud as Keith’s organ hit his inner nub directly, sending a shock of pleasure rippling through his lithe body.

And that was when Lance lost his sanity.

He reared back against Keith, leaning his head against his captain’s shoulder, his cheek pressed up against Keith’s soft face as he slammed backwards onto Keith’s cock, impaled and helpless and sobbing with the pleasure of it all. He grabbed Keith’s hand, still wrapped around his member, bidding his captain to pump him harder and faster even as the other pilot struggled to keep up with his thrusts. “Here it comes- Oh, Keith, I’m gonna-“ His words made no sense as he shuddered in final release, the pressure in his loins building past the breaking point and spilling out all over the place. He cried out in ecstasy, his modesty forgotten, spraying his seed all over Keith’s hand and his own belly, unabashed and shameless as his spasms rocked him. He squirmed and thrust wildly on Keith’s cock, allowing himself the freedom of complete rapture.

Keith grunted, tightening his grip on Lance’s body, the other man’s movements proving too much for his stamina. Lance felt Keith’s cock swell within him, a new warmth beginning to spread, a sharp, strangled cry from his captain’s throat as Keith shot his load deep within Lance’s body. He collapsed onto the bed, Keith’s heavy weight on top of him as the other man struggled to catch his breath.

“Okay,” said Keith between gasps. He rolled off Lance and lay on his back, staring at the ceiling. “That’s kind of like what sex is supposed to feel like.”

“Was I any good?” Lance felt strangely weak and drained, as if Keith’s ministrations had sucked the life from him.

“Not bad for your first try.” Keith licked his lips. “’Course, I always say, practice makes perfect.”

“I don’t think I’d mind practicing that again.”

Keith, suddenly serious, rolled to face him in the darkness. “How do you feel about me, Lancer?”

“I like you. A lot.”

“Good. ‘Cause I like you too.”

Lance smiled. “I was hoping you’d say that.”

A strong hand pulled Lance towards the other body, pressing his back into Keith’s stomach. Keith’s breath was warm against the back of his neck. Long fingers stroked his hair absently. “I do. I really like you.”

Lance’s grin widened. “Think we could try this again sometime?”

“You bet. Practice in the morning?”

“You mean lion practice?” Lance, suddenly confused, turned to face his lover.

“No. I think I’ll cancel lion practice on the basis that Sven, Hunk and Pidge have fallen ill. Due to… uh, food poisoning.”

As if on cue, a thump echoed against the far wall, followed by a hoarse cry.

“Um, that is, on the basis that Sven has fallen ill. Heh. But I don’t think I’m going to cancel the… other practice.”

The sound of groans, thumps, and laughter reached their ears from the adjoining room, as if Hunk and Pidge were combining professional wrestling, stand-up comedy, and pillow-fighting into some weird experimental sexual sporting event.

Lance shuddered. “Ooogh. I don’t even want to know what is going on in there,” he groaned.

“They’ve been together long enough to get to know each other really well. That’s when things get really fun. It’s just as sensual for them as it is for us… just maybe a whole lot uglier.” Keith chuckled. “Of course, since when was sex pretty for anyone? You ever watch stag films? You think that stuff’s pretty?”

Lance giggled. “I was wondering where you learned your- uh, technique.”

“Lance, that is a long story, and I’ll probably never tell you half of it anyway.” Keith squeezed his lover, hard. “Some things are just better left unsaid.”