K L A N C E D // Klance One-shots

just plain smut

He tries making his way through the jumping mass of bodies and towards the bar. Probably needs to get a little drunk to be able to take in all of this.

A familiar brown-haired boy pops up on his mind as he drinks his shot. It tastes bitter, yet has a sweet tang to it. Another shot gives a satisfying burn to his throat as he drinks another one.

By the time he's lost count of how much he drank, his head is spinning and smiling and he struggles to even form a sentence.

"One....More....." He mumbles out, lips forming into a pout, eyes drooping low.

"Dude, you had like, a lot. Why don't I order you an Uber?"

"No!" Keith screams, slipping down until his head rests against the cold, metal table. Ah...Cold..

When he finally accepts that the bartender won't give him anymore drinks tonight, he stumbles his way through the crowd again, his original plan of getting laid by someone hotter and better than Lance thrown out the window and replaced by getting into bed as soon as possible.

Jesus, Keith can't think straight. The screen on his phone looks foreign and deadly bright. He shuts it off and shoves it in his pocket, deciding fuck it let's just walk home.

He knows he's drunk. It's apparent from his blurry vision, numb tongue and constant giggling to himself. He knows he can't control his body right now but he doesn't do anything as he walks to a different side of the neighbourhood.

By the time he realizes he's not heading towards his house, he's standing in front of Lance's door, ringing the doorbell with a stupid smile on his face.

Fuck.

Keith's about to break for it but the door opens with a sleepy-looking Lance, wearing a bathrobe and nothing but boxers inside, if Keith can see from the smooth exposed chest under the unbuttoned top buttons.

The sleepy look vanishes as they both stare at each other, finally processing what the fuck is going on. Eyes linger downwards and Lance almost chokes when he realizes how little clothing Keith is wearing right now and quickly averts his eyes somewhere else.

"Keith?" Fuck, his voice sounds so raspy and deep that Keith fucking shivers.

Lance sees it due to the cold night weather and he quickly opens the door to let Keith in.

"What are you doing here? It's 1 am." Keith hears Lance saying behind him as the door clicks close. Collapsing onto the nearest sofa, Keith chooses not to answer Lance, not trusting his drunk self enough to open his mouth. His head feels awful and he flinches when laying his head just makes it worse.

Suddenly, Lance's face appears right in front of him, so close that Keith can feel his breath on him. A warm hand touches his forehead and Keith's heart stops as he stares at the beautiful, concerned blue eyes.

"Are you sick?" Mint. Keith realizes. His breath smells like mint. "Cause it's not that-" The rest of it falls deaf to Keith's ears as his faze shifts down to the pouty, full lips of the person in front of him.

Lance talks so smoothly, his mouth forming words perfectly and beautifully and Keith can't help but imagine how those pretty lips would look like around his dick.

He should have known better to have never accepted the offer of going in here the first place, because he finds himself leaning towards him and placing a soft kiss onto those lips.

Time stops as Keith can only think of these soft lips against his but to be quickly be pulled out of his trance when it leaves him, cold and lonely and he opens his eyes dazedly to see Lance staring at him with shocked, uncertain eyes that glazed over in the dimly lit room.