A Klance Fanfic - For Him

We've Been Making Shades Of Purple Out Of Red And Blue

[[mentions of rape, gore , and NSFW. It's my first time writing smut so sorry if it's cringe]]

Large cold hands were holding him everywhere. Under his shirt and grabbing at what they could.

Keith never stopped kicking out. He never stopped squirming or being difficult and after harsh words pinched bruises and red clawing marks left a map on his skin. Nothing had really even happened yet, but Keith already felt dirty.

He felt as if even the slightest graze of an intruding finger on his skin left a trail of grime with it. His head was screaming at him to run away and wash himself raw. To make whole new red scratches from his fingers digging in to get rid of the feeling of the cold.

Keith could feel tears gather in his eyes, but he tried desperately to keep them from falling. He just couldn't allow to Alphas to see him weaker than he already was. But the squriming wasn't really helping either, because it just dripped out more self-lubricant, making the band of Alphas coo at him as if he were adorable trying to escape them. It made them patronize him, feel like a pretty thing for them to play with.

The one in front of him, the one Keith assumed was running the show and had his hand over Keith's mouth, and opened his own as if to say something before a blur knocked him to the ground. There were feral sounds as the Alpha and the new person rolled on the ground, the sounds of snarls and hard hits filled the room.

The other Alphas that had Keith corner backed off. For a second there the Omega thought that they were going to join the fight and jump on the new person who he found to be tanned.

Keith's heart leapt a little im his chest, elated at the thought that Lance was finally there for him. But it soon dropped again when he saw a familiar orange headband tied around the new Alpha's forehead.

Keith didn't, couldn't, even notice how the other Alphas who were in the band of them were no longer around him. When did Hunk get to them? He couldn't remember, just that he looked around and everything was red.

Keith couldn't tell if that was just him or if everything really was red.

Everything was in pure chaos. The noise was everywhere. There were too many colors. His heart beat wildly in his chest as his skin itched where he could feel the marks forming. The bad butterfly was beating its wings punishingly over his lungs.

The next thing he knew, Keith was sobbing. His arms were shaking from where they were locked on the ground in front of him. His palms were flat against the cool floor, he didn't remember falling onto it, and he couldn't do anything but watch his tears make pools on the ground. The only thing keeping him up were his weak arms and thicker arms that he didn't remember being around him.

He felt so scared, so dirty and gross in his own skin, and he couldn't do anything about it.

He couldn't do shit about anything!

He couldn't do... anything.

Despite hating himself for it, Keith's shoulders shook harder as his cries got worse. His arms gave out, forcing himself to lean into the arms that held him.

The scent of cinnamon and something he associated with a sunny day filled his nose instead of the smell of burning honey that he was craving.

Keith buried his face into the clothes that he was wearing, searching for the comforting scent. But he was too busy crying his eyes dry to find even a whiff of the familiar smell among the feral Alpha pheromones.

It was a while before Keith was able to see through his tear blurred eyes, and when he did his head felt too heavy to lift from where it hung. Someone was talking to him but he couldn't hear them over the one thought that buzzed in his mind.