кℓαи¢є ѕмυт ❤

dining

••••thíѕ íѕ wríttєn вч mєthσхчєthαnє σn ασ3••••

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The rhythmic squeaking of the table legs somehow managed to be the loudest sound in the room, which seemed odd to Keith considering Lance was carrying on as unabashedly loud as he ever did. Keith was probably just listening too hard for it, but something about the creak of wood in time with every one of his thrusts, just barely out of sync with Lance’s voice as he sighed and praised Keith’s name was oddly erotic all by itself. He could literally HEAR how hard he was fucking his boyfriend right now, and if they kept up like this and Keith went a bit harder they might actually break the table.

Well the thought was hot, even if it wasn’t an actual option. For one, they had just moved into this house two days ago and really needed not to buy a new kitchen table on top of all that. But mainly Keith’s couldn’t really move any faster or harder because Lance’s long legs were wrapped too tight around his lower back, one arm locked firm into a brace on the tabletop he was being fucked on so that Lance had enough leeway to move his own hips however he wanted. Keith was never sure if this made him a terrible bottom or a fantastic fuck, but every time they did it this direction Lance ended up finding a way to squirm his way into controlling the pace, somehow limiting Keith’s room to work and wildly gyrating his hips take his cock in himself at the same time. It felt amazing of course, the hot tight ass he was sunk deep into constantly moving around his cock was a pleasure like no other on this earth, but it did sort of make Keith wonder why and how Lance managed to be more submissive sitting up with Keith riding his dick than he ever was bent over the arm of their couch. Or, wherever have you do.

Not that who was doing what to whom actually mattered in the least bit. There were different good things about sex every one of the many ways they’d invented to do it, and spreading Lance open like this had it’s own special specific reward - he smiled . Lance managed to smile or grin or smirk or laugh or giggle nearly the whole way through when Keith was taking him apart, he always looked and sounded like he was having the time of his life and it was so fucking amazing, Lance was always so beautiful .

Keith’s hands tightened on Lance’s thighs, forcing the spread of his legs open more to take back some of the control of the pace and fuck his man deeper and harder. Felt so good, Lance was sucking him in in a relentless grip around his cock, rolling his hips up to meet Keith’s so that between their combined efforts the head of his cock was rubbing against Lance’s prostate somewhere around every other thrust and making his body reflexively jolt each time, and since Keith had never been particularly good at holding back anything much less during sex he was driving in faster an harder and rocking the table so much the sound of one leg lifting a centimeter into the air and dropping back to hit the floor over and over had joined the rest of their sexy symphony and Keith was just about lost in it…

“So good, Lance, you feel so good ...”

Lance laughed a little, because as Keith mentioned, that’s kind of what he did. Keith loved it and hated it at the same time, because how the hell did Lance manage to keep this much composure when he was being fucked into the table? Keith could barely even remember his own name when he had Lance this deep into him. Sexy magnificent bastard. “Ah, come on baby, slow it down,” Lance cooed, using the hand he wasn’t holding himself up with to pull meaningfully at Keith’s hair.

And he was always so pushy . “C’mon it’s not a race, my body can’t take the same crazy stuff yours can, remember?” The words were a scold but his voice was obviously still laughing as he insisted, “Gotta be gentle Samurai, you can take it slow.”

Keith’s body shook with the effort of restraint for a moment, all movements coming to a brief halt while he regathered his own composure, taking in a deep breath of air through his nose, right where it was buried against Lance’s neck. God he smelled so fucking good. Smelled like sweat and gardenia-blossom shampoo and like the syrup from breakfast, still sticky on the unwashed tabletop. Keith had never thought he’d have the kind of life where he’d get so turned on by the sight of a man making him waffles but here they were and here Lance was and he had started sighing and and panting again from the slow grind Keith had started up inside him, and he never could have asked for more than time with Lance in this shitty too-yellow kitchen.

He was still buried deep inside, sliding in and out just a few inches at a time, not enough to pull out all the way but enough to set an insistent pressure against Lance’s sweet spot as he passed by it over and over at the perfect tempo to get Lance loose.

Loose as in, he finally relaxed his thunderthigh-ninja-death-grip around Keith’s waist and let his quiet moans turn into shameless screaming, not loose as in his ass. That in fact, he was tightening around Keith in arrhythmic intervals, clenching down around his cock with timing Keith couldn’t understand or predict and it was taking more and more effort to keep this metronomic pace when Keith was so close , but Keith had a well-trained body and the stubborn will that Lance was going to come first this time, damn it. He kept his hips rolling in the same smooth jerks Lance liked, and now that Lance wasn’t wrapped around him like a horny anaconda he could shift both of their weights and give himself a free hand, holding Lance up and open enough to reach between his legs.

Lance’s cock was thick and heavy and wet in his hand, and when Keith stroked it the noise that came out of Lance was one hundred percent a whine, no matter what Keith knew he’d later claim. “Oh god -” Lance cut off his own squeaky words, face turning red for the length of the two seconds Keith could see it before Lance was yanking at his hair to pull him in for a kiss.

The kiss was great - fantastic even, at least until Lance bit his tongue. His hand was a tight fist in Keith’s hair and his body was a rigid line, locking up even tighter around Keith as he came, wet semen splashing onto Keith’s hand at the same time that his teeth sunk down sharply into the middle of their kiss.

Keith slowed to a still but didn’t pull out for a few seconds, letting Lance ride out the rest of his orgasm before he knew he’d be too oversensitive for Keith to finish inside. As soon as he had slipped out though Lance was already giving him a hand, long fingers gliding up and down Keith’s lube-slicked dick with the fast graceful movements of an artist’s hands, gently sucking at the bite on Keith’s tongue in an apology kiss as he stroked Keith to completion with expert skill, and now it was Keith’s turn to shake and smother his moan into their kiss. Fuck, his dick hadn’t gotten this kind of special treatment since Lance had accidentally swallowed half a tube of orajel and decided to see what happened to his blowjob skills with most of his mouth and throat all numb.

Their kiss cooled down as Lance’s legs fell down to plant on the floor again, leaning between the table and where Keith was still holding him with one loose arm. When they broke apart, Lance was grinning again, one hand stroking affectionately through the mess he’d made of Keith’s hair. “Hell yeah, three rooms down, half the house left go.” He waggled his eyebrows lewdly, the grin turning sleazy as he suggested, “What say we clean up and go christen the upstairs hallway next?”

God, how Keith loved this idiot.