Addiction VIII pt.67
“Yeah?” He slowed his movements, and ran his fingers through his hair. “What is it?”
Keith traced his finger over Lance's lips, feeling the warmth breaths ghost over them. “I won't go anywhere if you don't either.”
Blue eyes scanned his face for a moment before a gentle smile spread on his face, dimple and all. “I already told you I wouldn't.”
Keith nodded. “Good.”
Lance chuckled and leaned down to kiss him so hard, Keith felt lightheaded. Time was a distant concept as Lance built him up higher and higher, every movement so gradual and gentle that Keith felt like he was going crazy. His hands touched wherever he could, and every kiss made his heart pound harder.
They breathless, shaking, and sweaty. The room was significantly quiet in light of their sounds just moments earlier- the bed frame, the sound of their bodies, their voices hitching on the other’s name between moans. Now it was just their panting breaths and pounding hearts. Lance was resting his head on Keith’s shoulder as Keith’s hand coursed through his hair.
“You okay?” Lance whispered. Keith hummed in affirmation. “Lemme catch my breath and I’ll help you clean up.” Keith hummed again, sleepily as he rubbed up and down Lance’s arm which was draped over his torso. Lance chuckled and tilted his head up toward him. “D’you forget how to talk, principe?”
Keith shook his head. “No. Just sleepy. And warm.” Lance laughed softly and hugged him tighter.
There was a lot Keith still didn’t know about Lance and their dynamic, but one thing he did know was that no one had ever made him feel as content, safe, and comfortable as Lance did.











