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It’s like he’s moving in slow motion.
They’ve kept the windows shut tightly and rolled a towel up to keep the draught out so the room is hazy with the smoke that lingers in the air. Keith has an unlit joint resting between his fingers, not all that interested in lighting it just yet with the way Lance is moving.
His hips are swaying, arms over his head and the joint between his fingertips is lit, burning bright and dropping ash every so often. He brings it down to his lips and what Keith would give to be the damn thing, to have those lips wrapped around him, to just be close enough to feel the heat of his skin.
The music is quiet and Keith isn’t entirely sure he knows the song; thinks maybe it might be by some YouTuber, but he’s not particularly interested in it either. All he cares about is the way he’s moving - the way Lance is moving - because he’s always moving, he’s fidgeting or bouncing his legs or dancing.
He’s always got an inhuman amount of energy.
Even when they’re high, he’s always moving, but like he said, he moves like he’s in slow motion and it’s beautiful. He brings his own roll up to his lips and uses Lance’s lighter - a beat up blue zippo - taking down a long pull before letting it out slowly, still watching Lance through the breaks in the clouds as they rise to join the rest of the haze. His mouth is a little dry so he takes a sip of his soda, longer than intended, and he finishes it without even thinking. He takes another hit before putting out the joint, resting it in the ash tray for later, and slowly getting to his feet.
He means to go to the mini fridge, he really does. It’s just behind Lance, but the closer he gets to his best friend, he finds himself unable to stray from his path. He raises his hands, taking hold of Lance’s wrists and crossing his arms over his chest so he can wrap his arms around him from behind.
“You okay, buddy?” Lance asks, still moving his hips in a slow grind that has Keith stirring in his pants. He nods in response to the question, taking Lance’s joint and bringing it to his own lips, holding on to the smoke and leaning over Lance’s shoulder, bringing his mouth as close as he could to his without actually kissing him, passing the smoke over with ease. It wasn’t the first time they had shotgunned and it certainly wouldn’t be the last. Yet this time was different. Lance turned in his arms, draped his own over Keith’s shoulders and released the smoke between them, obscuring Keith’s vision momentarily and he blinked, eyes closed for a second, but that was more than long enough for Lance to close the minuscule gap between them. Their mouths together taste like smoke and soda and it’s perfect.
It builds. Their lips are pressed together chastely - once, twice, a third time - before they open and lock their lips together. It escalated quicker from there. Keith’s hands find Lance’s hips - which are still moving in time with the song - and Lance’s fingers thread through Keith’s hair, tugging softly because of course he knows Keith likes having his hair pulled, he knows everything about Keith.
He finds himself moving with him. They move together, dancing, kissing, every movement in sync.
Until the joint burns down to Keith’s fingers, the heat shocking him out of his trance and his reflex is to drop it. Lance moves quick this time - not quick enough to save his carpet from having yet another hole burned in to it, but quick enough that nothing catches fire. He steps on the joint, twisting his ankle to make sure it’s put out.
“Sorry.” He says, looking back up at Lance, who’s already looking at him.
“It’s okay.” He grins and brings Keith’s hand up to inspect it. “Does it hurt?” He asked.
“A little.” He replies, slightly distracted by the invisible patterns that Lance is drawing on the back of his hand.
“Want me to kiss it better?” He asks and Keith nods despite the mischief dancing in Lance’s eyes. He presses a kiss to the little red marks on Keith’s fingers before taking them in his mouth and swirling his tongue around the digits, licking between them, bobbing his head back and forth and all Keith can think is that finally - fucking finally! - he’s inside the mouth that’s tainted him for so long, he’s feeling that wet heat, watching as his fingers disappear and reappear and honestly he would be content to just have his fingers sucked but he knows smoking makes Lance horny. It’s why his best friend - perhaps more now - had never stayed at his place or invited him to stay the night when they smoke.
Tonight is different.
“Stay?” He asks which Keith’s fingers resting on his lower lip and he doesn’t trust his voice but answers with a nod that has Lance kissing him again. He takes control this time, backing Lance up to his bed and laying him down. Those torturously long legs wrap around him trapping him right where he wants to be and their kisses are getting wilder, sloppier, and it’s turning him on so fucking much. He’s so hard in his pants that it almost hurts.
Lance must sense this or maybe he says it out loud, he’s not sure, but in the next breath Lance is pushing him back, dropping his legs either side of Keith and reaching for his belt. He’s got his knife tucked in to a holster on his side so he unclips it so no one accidentally gets stabbed, resting it on Lance’s nightstand.
His belt is unbuckled and his jeans are undone in record time, Lance shoving them down as far as he can reach with his hands, and when he can’t reach with his hands he uses his feet, tucking them in between Keith’s legs and the fabric and pushing them down and off.
His own jeans come next - he doesn’t wear belts when he’s at home so they come undone quicker but they’re practically painted on his body so it takes a little longer - and Lance’s legs in the air - to get them off. He’s wearing some of the tiniest panties Keith has ever seen. They’re pastel blue and lacy and they barely contain the erection he’s sporting but he looks so fucking pretty that Keith doesn’t want to take them off yet, if at all.
Their shirts come off and Keith can’t help but to lick over Lance’s nipples. They’re small and slightly oval shaped and they harden in to peaks immediately when he makes contact. He pinches and twists the other one between his finger and his thumb as he sucks gently, pulling back and blowing cool air over the spit-slick skin before switching sides, making sure both nipples have received the attention they deserve.
When he pulls back Lance is flushed from his cheeks all the way up to the tips of his ears and all the way down to his collarbones and he looks so fucking gorgeous. He definitely says that out loud, if the whimper Lance lets out is any indication.
“You wanna go all the way?” He asks, unable to stop himself from running his hands up and down Lance’s thighs. He nods and sits up on his elbows to reach for his nightstand.
“Bottom or top?” Lance asks as he drops a box of condoms and a bottle of lubricant on the bed.
“I normally wouldn’t care but I really wanna fuck you.” His voice is almost unrecognisable to himself; husky and low and borderline breathless.
“Good, because I wasn’t actually giving you a choice. I’m riding you tonight and there’s not a damn thing you can do about it. Can’t believe it’s taken us this long.”
“Neither can I.” They kiss for another moment. “Want me to prep you?”
“No, I was fucking myself on a nice big toy before you got here.”
“Fuck, Lance, what are you doing to me?”
“Nothing right now, but I’m about to flip you and impale myself on you if you don’t get inside me.”
“Bossy.”
“Horny.”
“There’s a difference?” Lance smacks his arm playfully and Keith pushes his boxer briefs down, tears open the condom with his teeth, rolling it on and adding some extra lube before scooting closer and pulling the thong Lance is wearing to the side and hooking his thumb through it to keep it there.
He makes eye contact with Lance, asking silently for consent - because that shit is important and it’s sexy as all hell - and when he nods, and whispers a quiet ‘yes’ Keith presses inside him. The high has worn off a little but the sensitivity is still there, the heat, the haze. Lance is tight around him, walls fluttering, cock twitching and he has to pause when his hips meet Lance’s ass if only to just appreciate how fucking good it feels.
“You’re so tight.” He licks his lips and Lance grins up at him. “Fuck, this isn’t gonna last long.”
“It’s okay, I’m already close. Been half hard for fucking hours with you watching me like that.”
“What do you expect? It’s impossible to take my eyes off you when you move like that.” He leans forward, balancing on his forearms and pressing deeper inside Lance as he kisses him once.
“Like this?” Lance bites Keith’s lower lip as he hooks his legs around his body and rolls his hips up, much like he was moving to the song, except he doesn’t need music to create the rhythm he’s dancing to. Keith can’t help but thrust. He tries to go slow, he does, but he’s close before he can even really tell what’s happening he angles his hips and gives one particularly hard thrust that has Lance throwing his head back and moaning loud. He keeps his pace, hammering against the spot over and over and over again.
His back arches beautifully, a bead of sweat trailing down his neck as he comes in his underwear. Keith catches that bead on his tongue and he can’t stop himself. He’s sucking, licking, biting and nipping at Lance’s neck. He leaves mark after mark after mark; hickeys, bites, laving his tongue over the sensitive skin and blowing cool air to soothe and in a handful of thrusts he’s following Lance in to bliss, white knuckling the sheets as he grinds in as deep as humanly possible.
When all is said and done he collapses on top of Lance, kissing him lazily, their lips moving slow, tongues curling even slower around one another and it’s sloppy and it leaves them both with drool running down their chins but it’s perfect.
“You’re staying? Right?” Lance asks and Keith responds with a nod and a muttered ‘yes’. “Good.”
“Yeah?”
“Yeah.” Lance throws a leg over Keith and kisses his jaw before laying his head on his shoulder. “Didn’t get to ride you yet. You can’t leave until I do.”
“I’m not going anywhere.” Keith presses a soft kiss to his hair. Arms coming down to wrap around his best friend. His lover? His boyfriend?
“Promise?”
“I promise.”