#Versvember day 3 NSFW thread
Anon prompt in photo/ #BottomCouch (imagining Keith)
Prompt: Cocksleeve
Additional tags: drunk, pining, solo Lance

"Here," says Keith, tossing Lance a pillow. He reacts too slowly to grab it so it hits his chest then drops to the ground.

Lance crosses his arms to catch it a full second too late. Noticing he's holding air, he looks down at the ground to wear the pillow landed on his feet. He kicks it then stubbornly says, "I don't need it! I'm not sleeping here!"

"You're way to drunk to make it home," protests

Keith. "You can't navigate the subway like this."

"Come on, it's like a fucking block from here." Lance points. Keith grabs his arm and twists it so it's pointing in a totally new direction.

"You're too drunk. You can't go home."

Lance laughs. "That's like... the opposite of the saying, dude."

Keith sighs loudly, being a wet blanket as usual. "You know you really should've said something when the others were leaving, Allura could've driven you."

"Said something about being drunk? You don't say you're

drunk, you just... you drunk!" Why had Lance even stayed later? Keith isn't even a friend, he's a friend of a friend. He only tagged along to the party with Hunk. Why didn't he leave with Hunk? Oh right, because Shay was tired so they left early, but Keith and him were playing

Gang Beast and Lance didn't want to go while Keith was ahead in the count.

Then when Allura was leaving... Keith and Lance were debating the existence of Mothman and Keith swore he had a video he downloaded from the dark web that proved his existence so of course Lance had to

stay to see that.

The when Pidge was leaving and asked if Lance wanted to split an Uber, he was in the middle of a heated argument with Keith over whether or not it was okay to assume Mothman's gender because hey! If Cryptids exist then likely half of them are sexy lady Cryptids

Then suddenly it's 3am, they're the only ones left at Keith's place, and Lance is drunk as a skunk.

"Just crash on the couch," says Keith, tossing a blanket on said couch. "Sleep it off for a few hours and then I will trust you with your Presto card." Keith holds up Lance's

green transit card.

"Hey!" says Lance, lunging for the card, but getting nowhere close before Keith raises it up above his head.

"It's sleeping with me tonight," says Keith, "because I will not be responsible for your Missing Persons post on facebook."

"Whatever drama queen," groans Lance. "I guess I'll just borrow your skincare products if you don't mind walking me through your nighttime routine."

"My what and my what?"

"What you use to clean and moisturize your face with," says Lance, wondering if he's slurring his words.

"I... have tap water and a clean towel... well, mostly clean..."

Lance makes a sound equivalent to a verbal keyboard smash. "You don't use product on your skin?!"

"No...," says Keith, looking nervous.

Lance's voice calms. "But it looks so soft and dewy..."

"What?"

"Can I touch it?" asks Lance, advancing with and hand out, ready to cup a soft cheek.

"No!" says Keith, stepping back.

Lance drops his arms. "Fine. No homo to you too, I guess."

Keith bristles further. "I didn't - ugh! Just go to sleep, Lance!" Keith turns to stalk off to his

room.

"If you insist," says Lance, undoing his pants.

"What are you doing?" asks Keith, stopping in his tracks. He looks completely spooked as Lance removes his pants.

"What? I'm a sweaty sleeper?" Lance pulls off his shirt and catches Keith staring at his pecs.

Lance does a few flexing isolations, making the tiddies dance because he enjoys the way it flusters Keith so bad he has to look away.

"Do I need to put a drop cloth on the couch to protect it from your night sweats?" asks Keith.

"Naw," says Lance, dropping his ass down onto the

couch and giving the floor pillow a fluff with his toes before lifting it to place it against the arm. "I should be cool enough now."

"Great, uh... don't puke." Keith waves Lance's Presto card as he heads to his bedroom.

"I'm not that drunk," yells Lance. "Night! Love you!" He

winces. Why did he say the 'love you' part? Just habit from saying goodnight to his family. Which reminds him to pull his phone out of his discarded jeans and send a text to his mom saying his staying over at a friend's house and not to worry when she wakes up and his room is

empty.

Would sure be nice if he had his own place like Keith, but if Lance follows in the grand tradition of his siblings and other relatives, he won't be moving out until he's married. Considering how extremely single he is, that could be awhile.

Lance squints at the screen. He thinks he successfully explained the sitch to his mom, but his phone screen is refusing to be in focus.

Whatever!

Lance drops the phone to the floor and flops around until he's laying on the couch and comfy. Not bad. It's an extra long couch so

his legs don't have to stick up in the air like a damn animal. The cushions are bit squashy. When Lance rolls they seperate and lift and sunk in opposing directions, but he's sure when he drops off it won't matter.

Keith's blanket is a bit itchy, but his pillow is soft.

Lance inhales deeply and sighs, as one does when about to fall asleep. His attention is caught though, jolting his brain more awake. It's the scent of Keith on the pillow that grabs his attention. This is why sleeping over at someone's place is weird. Smelling someone on their

bedding is so awkward, but... at the same time... not entirely unpleasant.

Keith doesn't smell bad (despite his lack of products) and it seems that, much like his luck in having nice skin with no effort, he smells good with no effort.

A little bit of scalp, a little bit of sweat, but mostly a mix of shaving cream and something sweet smelling. It's not unwelcome to Lance's nose. Somewhat comforting. It's been awhile since Lance *smelt* another person and that's kinda sad.

He pulls the pillow out from under

his head so he can wrap his arms around it and spoon it instead.

Lance hasn't dated a guy in years, not since he little trist with a fellow swim team member in high school. He never even really told anyone about that one. It really had been awhile since he smelt boy smell...

It had been all girls since then. He'd been pretty into swimteam guy tho... what was his name? Just neither of them were ready to come out as bi so they broke it off.

Lance's mind continues to wander as he drifts close to sleep.

His ex was hot too. Dark hair, soft features...

Oddly, a bit like Keith in looks. Does Keith have a swimmer body though? He's got that small waist and bubble butt, but then Lance has also noticed a bulge of his bicep. He must workout.

Lance's ex used to shave... the downstairs. They all did to wear those speedos.

Keith probably didn't shave there... The smell of shaving cream pricks at Lance's nostrils again. Although... Lance has never seen Keith with a five o'clock shadow. Could he be shaving somewhere else?

In his mind Lance has building up an image of what Keith would look like as

a swimmer, wearing the purple speedo Lance used to wear himself in high school. But this new thought has him removing the speedo entirely to imagine a shaved clean Keith...

"Ah..." Lance suddenly becomes aware that he's rolling his hips against Keith's pillow.

Wasn't he spooning it? How'd it get between his legs?

Dammit. Yeah, that felt real nice, but it was not okay. It was Keith's pillow! Something he lays his head on every night. Lance pulls the pillow out from between his legs and drops it behind his head.

He lifts up the blanket

to see his bulge inside his boxers. "No," he says firmly.

Why does he get so damn horny when he's drunk? This wouldn't be a problem if he were at home? He could just knock one out. Maybe even use his cock sleeve he had hidden in a box under his bed. Mmm that thing was the next

best thing to a real hole... Lance hadn't had anal in so long.

Lance twists onto his stomach. He's not at home and has to calm down. If he can just manage to sleep, his dick'll go night night too.

The new position plants his face directly on the pillow. He twists

his head to the side for a bit of fresh air. He just needs some nice deep breaths and he'll drop off to dreamland. He drank so much, this really shouldn't be a problem.

No more naked Keith in his head, he'll just mentally turn him around... Annnnnd now he's picturing Keith's

naked ass. Nope, not better.

Lance groans into the pillow. Why he's getting all hot and bothered thinking about Keith anyway? He's so obnoxious. Hot? Yes. Booty for days? Yes. Sexy voice? Yes.

... Lance can't remember what the point of making this list was...

If the point was getting his dick to calm the fuck down, he probably should've listed some negative qualities, not all the things are making Lance wish he could stick it in him.

Wait... he's obnoxious! That's it! Lance can't spend ten minutes alone with him so how could he ever

... omg he's spending the night at his place because they talked for so long everyone else left, right?

Then what is the problem? Oh right, he has a mullet... a mullet that looks really soft.

"Dammit," groans Lance, directly into Keith's pillow. "I don't wanna have a crush on

Keith!"

Any chance he's just drunk and there aren't new and scary feelings blossoming inside of him? That can only be answered by sleeping and reassessing when he's sober and not picturing which is softer: Keith's skin or his hair.

"Mmmm," Lance moans. That's when he becomes

are he's been rolling his hips against the couch the whole time, working himself up further and further.

Fuck! He's passing the point of no return on erection. So what is he supposed to do? Jerk off on Keith's couch? No, that's so inappropriate, drunk or not. What about going

into the bathroom and 'taking care' of himself? No, the bathroom is right beside Keith's bedroom and what if Keith overheard him and bursts in and demands to know if Lance is jerking off to naked thoughts of him because he has a crush on him?

Then what if... what if Keith was

actually naked and then he turned around and bent over and spread his cheeks and...

"Ah fuck," moans Lance because this fantasy is inspiring him to buck his hips even faster.

It seems like Lance's little 'problem' is going to take care of itself if he doesn't figure things out.

But maybe this is okay, just rolling his hips like this against the couch (it certainly feels more than okay.) Morally, he doesn't want to jerk off in Keith's apartment BUT he's still in his boxers and people have wet dreams all the time and cum in their underwear and that's

normal and natural and only slightly different than what he's doing since he's awake (but also very drunk.) He'll just get off real quick and then he can sleep and it's not like Keith will see a wet spot (as it will have dried) and demand to know if Lance humped his couch while

picturing sucking him off!

"Mmmm," moaned Lance, rolling his hips just a big rougher. He hasn't sucked a dick in so long. Keith has to have a nice one too, he'd seen him in sweatpants... He has everything going for him so not wonder Lance can't get him out of his head.

Speaking of head... the head of his dick is rubbing just so nice on the ridge of the couch cushion. It's really sending Lance.

Sure, the couch isn't as nice as say a hand or a cock sleeve or Keith's juicy ass, but he's still vibing with it. Grips the pillow with his hands now so

he can really let loose and rock against the couch. He's probably not being too loud, right? Naw, Keith can't hear him and if he did... oh, what if he got all 'Can I help you with that?' and jumps onto the couch and volunteers the nice groove between his asscheeks as a place to

nestles Lance's dick. Just let him fuck there without penetration, just let those fatty cheeks envelop his dick and... why can he feel this?

Drunk Lance has to stop and take assessment of what his body is doing. Dick is... not in his boxers anymore, those seem to have slide down

his hips, freeing his dick to nestle between the couch cushions.

"Oops..." Lance goes to withdraw his dick from between the cushion, but as he does... "Ahh..." That feels so fucking good.

Keith has a really old couch, like one he probably inherited from older relatives or got

at a thrift shop so it has the super fine fuzz on the cushions that's kind worn out on the tops, but the in between is as fresh as the day it was manufactured and smooth as silk. Though as Lance thrusts his dick back in his thoughts are more like "soft nice, wanna fuck..."

Keith's skin's gotta be this soft. His virgin, never been altered by chemicals, just splashed with water, skin... Probably smells sweet like this pillow Lance is currently burying his face into so he doesn't moan as loud as he wants to because DAMN fucking between these couch

cushions feels so good.

Now this is wrong and something he should stop. But fuck, he can't bring himself to care.

He can smell Keith and can damn near imagine he's feeling him too. He's definitely not going to stop.

Before he an think twice, he's pushing up to his hands and

shifting the couch cushions so the top is slightly overlapping the other and he can just slide his cock on in at an angle, just the way Keith's booty would take him.

Fuck machine Lance takes over at this point. His plan to subtly hump one out and not make noise, forgotten.

He's way too deep in his fantasy of making Keith scream his name to care about reality. Consequences are for sober people. Plus this couch has a bounce to it from the old springs that make Lance feel like he's thrusting with the power of a God.

These couch cushions are taking his dick like a champ, just like Keith would. They're so smooth and (with Lance pressing down on them) so tight just like Keith must be.

The couch creaks from the motion and Lance moans. He's trying so hard not to outright say Keith's name because

at least then he'll have some deniability if he wakes him up, but damn his head is so full of him, it's hard to bite it back.

Fuck, he wants Keith... he wants him... he...

"Ah, fuck," moans Lance as he tips over the edge. He collapses down, arms unable to support his weight

anymore and continues to writhe and roll his hips, letting the press of those cushions milk him for everything he's worth. Just like Keith would take it.

"Oh fuck, baby," moans Lance. He presses his face into the pillow so he can say, "fuck Keith..." without summoning the devil

with his name.

His hips stutter to a stop, one last thrust and tighten of his cheeks before fully relaxing his whole body with an exhausted moan.

Damn, he feels so fucking good... and sleepy.

But no, he needs to clean up because he just made a mess between Keith's couch

cushions that can not be left for Keith to discover!

He's gonna get up and find a towel, maybe wet it... scrub up... definitely at least pull his boxers back up...

Lance wakes with a start in the morning to discover he didn't do any of those things, but passed out immediately

after cumming!

"Oh no," mutters Lance, raising up his head. It's fine as long as he cleans up before Keith...

"So you're awake," says Keith.

Yipes!

Lance twists to peer over the couch to see Keith in the kitchen brewing coffee. "Oh uh, hey..."

"So when you said you were a

sweaty sleep," says Keith, leaning against the counter, "you never said you were going to take *all* your clothes off."

"Haha, did I do that in my sleep?" At least he still has the blanket covering - nope! He kicked that off long before he fell asleep. His whole entire ass is

out and has been the entire night.

"Do you have nightmares too?" asks Keith. "I heard... moaning."

"Yeah, night terrors," says Lance, ducking his face down so Keith doesn't see how red he is. "I have this reoccurring one where I'm, uh, naked at school..."

"That doesn't sound

scary."

"You didn't let me finish," says Lance, standing up and taking both couch cushions that he defiled with him - one to cover his dick and the other his ass - "I'm also being chased by, uh, Carrot Top."

"The... prop comic?"

"Yeah, it's not even the props, it's the red

hair that freaks me out the most. Though he does chase me with an broad sword, which to him is a sword shaped like Blanche from the Gold Girls. Excuse me..." Lance bolts towards the bathroom, holding both cushions in place to cover himself.

"I already saw your ass," says Keith.

"Plus you could just take your clothes!"

"Do me a favour and throw them into the bathroom for me in ten minutes!" calls out Lance as he darts into the hall.

"Why?" Keith yells back.

In the bathroom, Lance turns on the shower, but he doesn't bathe himself. Nope, he grabs the

one wash cloth he finds (because of course Keith only owns one wash cloth and still manages to smell amazing and clean all the time) and uses that to scrub the cushions where he finds the "remains of last night."

He's satisfied they're alright looking and it's impossible to tell

he took their virginities last night.

There's a knock and Keith opens the door enough to toss his clothes onto the floor. "Need a towel?"

"Not... really..." He should shower, but the cushions are drip drying in the bathtub.

After he's dressed again, Lance decides it's best to

make a run for the front door and avoid any small talk. Problem is he needs his phone so he has to go back to the living room for that. Coast is clear so Keith must be in his bedroom.

He finds his phone on the floor of the living room just as Keith yells, "why are my couch

cushions wet and in the bathtub?"

Dammit... Lance runs for the door.

"Lance?" calls out Keith. He catches up with Lance just as he gets into the apartment hallway. "Lance, why are you running away?"

Lance freezes, turns around. "I did something bad..."

"Look, if you sweat

so bad you needed to wash the cushions..."

"Yes! I sweat!" says Lance, relieved. "It's a condition that comes along with the nightmares and if we can never bring this up again, I will buy you breakfast as a thank you."

"Oh," says Keith, his pale cheeks reddening. "Yeah, you

can take me to breakfast."

"Oh uh..." begin Lance, because he hadn't so much meant he'd bring Keith to a restaurant as he thought he'd go grab some Timmies from down the street and drop it back off.

Keith's eyes widen. "Did you not mean -?"

"No, I meant to ask you out!"

Because he'd already gotten the yes from the guy he's still very much crushing on even now that he's sober so why wouldn't he ask him out?

"Just, uh, I'm going to go home and get cleaned up for real."

"Same... though, um, I guess I'll move the cushions out of the shower first."

"You agreed not to mention it again!" snaps Lance, pointing an accusing finger at Keith.

"Yeah, after you buy me breakfast," Keith argues back. "I'm going to bring it up a lot while we're eating."

"Don't you dare!"

"Probably all I'm going to talk about..."

"Don't make me rescind my date off," threatens Lance.

Instead of arguing back, Keith surprises him by grabbing the front of Lance's shirt and pulling him into a kiss.

One day, in the future, when Keith is solidly in love with Lance, he will tell him the truth about the couch.

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