lance is a slut (shklance nsfw)

Green Light

Keith plucked they from the drawer, balling the delicate fabric up in his fist and shoving it into his pocket. He shut the drawer and left the room as he had found it, just short one pair of thigh high stockings. Excited now, Keith hurried down the hall to his own room and locked the door.

What do you wear with thigh highs? Keith wondered. He didn't really have anything like Lance's sweater and shorts combination, but maybe he could figure something out? Keith stripped out of his jacket, taking time to fish the stockings out of his pocket and laying them on the bed. He sat next to them on the bed and quickly took his shoes off. Once his hands were free again, he ran his fingertips across the lace at the top. He could hardly wait to get them on.

Next, Keith took off his pants, folding them carefully and putting them to the side. No sense in throwing them and letting his room turn into the mess Lance's was. Keith looked down at his legs. The hair covering his legs was visible, but only just so, the hair thin from years of wearing tight jeans rubbing against his skin. His boxers were loose, but as black as his shirt, guaranteed to keep the focus on the thigh highs, once he got them on.

Impatient now, Keith grabbed on if the stockings and bunched it up, ready to stick his foot through. His heart raced as he carefully dragged the fabric up his shin and over his knee. He managed to get it up to his thigh before he noticed a tiny ball of lint on the inside of the thigh. He pinched the ball of lint and pulled.

The tightly woven fabric of the stocking began to unravel down, diluting the shade of red and bringing in more of his skin tone. Keith pulled at it harder, determined to break the string before it could cause any more damage, but that only resulted in the tear being even longer. Panicked, Keith grabbed his knife and cut the string, but the damage was done.

Keith hurried to put the other stocking on, determined for his want to come to life. He pulled it up to his thigh and decidedly did not touch any part of this stocking, for fear that he would ruin both parts of the pair. On shaky legs, Keith stood up and carefully made his way to the mirror.

He stood in front of the mirror and caught his own eye in his reflection. His eyes were wet and he swallowed thickly at the uncertainty he couldn't hide. His eyes drifted down, past his clenched jaw, to his tight shirt, past his loose boxers, and to the tops of the bright red stockings. He finally allowed himself to look at his legs, taking in the way the fabric looked. Instead of feeling pretty as he had hoped for so long, he looked like a joke.

The red fabric was torn on his inner right thigh, and dark hairs were peeking out from the rip. The seam was twisted on his left leg, starting at the outside of his ankle and ending up inside his thigh. Immediately above the lace, his boxers hung limply, the shadows drowning out the luxurious pattern. Keith /hated/ it. He flung out a fist and punched his reflection, letting out a cry of pain when the mirror didn't give.

"OW, FUCKING FUCK MOTHERFUCK," he shouted, his curses bouncing off the walls of his room. He fell to the floor from the force of his punch reverbing off the mirror. A knock responded to his shouts of pain.

"Hey, Mullet, you alright in there?" Lance's voice called through the door.

Keith's hand still throbbing, he gritted his teeth and replied, "Yeah, I'm fucking fine. Go away." He would rather fuck up his hand worse than allow Lance to see how stupid he looked, let alone let Lance know he ruined one of his pair of beloved thigh highs.

"Keith?" Lance's voice was a little bit more direct, the nickname he had previously used falling away with the worry lacing his tone.

"Go. Away." Keith spat, cradling his injured hand to his chest and pulling at the stockings with his other.