Disclaimer: WEP holds the official rights to Voltron.  What they'd do with an action doll from something like this, we really don't know.


Keith stopped short in the doorway to the room he shared with Lance.  “What the hell… ”

It was clean.

It had been a disaster area when he’d left it that morning.

Slowly, he took a careful step inside, and then another, fearful that it was just an illusion, and if he walked too firmly, it would just disappear.

But everything stayed real and solid around him.

The carpet!  I can see the carpet! he thought in amazement.  I’d forgotten it was blue… He stood staring down at it for a long moment, mesmerized.

“Bon soir, cheri,” a husky voice purred from the bathroom doorway.

Keith blinked… then blinked again.  His mind repeated his earlier sentiment: What the hell…?

The stance was pure Lance, there was no getting around that.  Shoulder braced against the door frame, arms casually folded, one ankle crossed over the other, toe to floor in his usual nonchalance.

The two inch black patent heels adorning those toes, however …  

… and the fishnets…  

… and the flirty, thigh high skirt that would barely conceal anything…  

… the full ‘maid’ regalia, right down to a jaunty white cap and feather duster dancing at the tips of his fingers.

With a great effort, Keith managed to keep his eyes from bugging out of his head and his jaw from hitting the floor.

He had no control over his voice, though, and the question came out in an undignified squeak.  “Lance?”

He also had no control over the instant erection that Lance’s get up caused, and no way to hide it, either.  It tented out the front of his flight suit in a very obvious way.

Lance grinned and swung the feather duster in an arc, brushing the top of his thigh as he did so.  “Oui, mon cher?”

Keith gulped.

“What… what… ” His voice finally failed, and he simply waved at the room, nearly glittering in its cleanliness.  His throat was dry, and his eyes drifted of their own accord back down to watch the ruffled skirt tremble over the tops of Lance’s thighs.

Lance hid his smirk.  There was something so… damn tantalising about stirring up his straight-laced captain.

And he knew just how to do it, too.

With a reproving look, he tsked softly at Keith, his little cap sliding a touch on his carefully styled coiffure as he shook his head with a little moue.  “Ah, mon Capitain,” he purred again, eyes alight with mischief.  “You no like?”

Pushing away from the door frame, he sauntered across the room, and right past an astonished Keith.  The strong lines of his calves became even more noticeable, accentuated as they were by those damnable heels, while the muscles of his thighs bunched and rippled in a most enticing way.

Keith gulped again.

And then Lance bent over, oh so slowly, to pluck at an invisible speck of dust on the floor…

Keith closed his eyes in pure self-defense.  His hands clenched into fists at his sides, because his fingers itched so to just reach out and touch

He cleared his throat, hoping that his voice wouldn’t come out in that high-pitched tone again, and said, “I… It’s not that I don’t like it… I… I just… ” He grasped for words, for the ability of speech, because his imagination took a swift dip into the gutter and supplied what he’d closed his eyes against; the flirty skirt riding up, exposing that perfect ass in a way that even the tight jeans he favored could not.

“WHY?” he burst out suddenly, unable to contain it any more.

Lance peeked up at him and batted his lashes cheekily.  Then he straightened, being sure to add just the right amount of wriggle, and in a few tiny steps, was close enough for Keith to feel the heat from his body.

“Why’d I clean up?” Lance asked innocently and tickled Keith’s cheek lightly with the duster.  “Because you asked me to, sweetie.”

“I… I did?” Keith opened his eyes in surprise at Lance’s words.  It was a mistake.  Lance was just inches away from him, leaning forward slightly, smiling.

Keith licked his lips, for they’d gone dry, and could not pry his gaze away from Lance’s face—no, from his lips; they were full and pink and slightly shiny, as if he’d snitched some of Allura’s lip gloss to wear.

Blood rushed to warm his cheeks.  He wanted to kiss Lance.  No, more than just kiss him; he wanted to do things to him… things that he’d never even imagined before.

The duster was still brushing his cheek, distracting him, making it even more difficult to concentrate on why he shouldn’t give in to the impulse that was bouncing around in his brain.

“Uh huh,” Lance chuckled.

The duster flickered again at Keith’s cheek, then against his neck, then was playfully brushed down the front of Keith’s flightsuit.  All the way down to…

He couldn’t stifle the gasp as the feather duster teased over his erection, nor could he stop his body from arcing up into the contact, as faint as it was.

Immediately, the duster was snatched away, leaving him flushed and taut, his whole body quivering, and he groaned.

“Can’t be having anything dirty now, can we?” Lance leant in to whisper in his ear.

“Dirty?” Keith panted, his mind spinning.  He could barely grasp what Lance was saying.

His nerves were tingling throughout his body, and he needed…  needed…

“Uh huh,” Lance murmured back.  His tongue traced up the line of Keith’s ear, a delicate caress.  “See?  I do listen… sometimes.”

He closed his eyes and shuddered at the dampness curling around his earlobe, making a noise that could not be called anything other than a whine.  He half raised his hands, found firm flesh covered with silky fabric, and explored it with his fingers, stroking up and down over Lance’s sides. 

When he realized what he was doing, he almost jerked his hands away.  There was no way he could be doing this, was there?  There was no way Lance was …

But he could not deny there was a mouth at his ear, could not deny the warm body in front of him.  He could not deny that deep, deep down, he’d longed for this—or, well, something like this—for weeks, ever since he and Lance had ended up sharing a room.

There was no escaping it; it really was happening, wasn’t just some vagary of his overactive imagination.  This was real.

He pressed closer, into the heat of Lance’s body, and heard the rustle of the frilly skirt as he crushed it between them.

Lance hissed at the hard pressure of Keith’s body against his own, head dipping from the superior height his shoes provided to nestle into the crook of Keith’s neck.  A muffled groan was murmured into Keith’s collar as Lance felt those deceptively strong hands ghost down to spread over the backs his thighs then slide upwards beneath the skirt.

“Ah, Keith,” he whispered shakily.  “Touch me.”

Keith heard he words as if from a great distance.  Touch him?  He couldn’t stop.

Lance’s mouth worked at his neck, tongue tickling the sensitive skin there above his collar, and he moaned and threw his head back.  His hands obeyed Lance’s directive, and touched him.  Up beneath the short skirt, he followed the texture of skin, until he found what he was searching for; his hands gripped the muscled curves of Lance’s rear.

It was such heady knowledge.  Growling softly, he pulled Lance closer, until their bodies were flush, Lance’s arms curling around his neck to keep his balance.

Finally, finally, there was contact, pressure on that part of him that so longed for it, and he began to work his hips slowly against Lance, his hands clenching, pulling him as close as possible.

“Oh gods!  Fuck, Keith!” Lance’s groan was again muffled in Keith’s shoulder.  His hips thrust against Keith’s, taut buttocks clenching beneath the Captain’s hands, his fingers tangling into dark hair to anchor him as he nibbled his lips closer to Keith’s.  “Damn, but you’re good, y’know that?”

Keith gave a breathy gasp of laughter.  “If you… say so… ” He was starting to lose himself in the rhythm, and pressed harder, quicker against Lance, all the pressure right where he needed it.  Lance’s scent swirled in his nostrils, enflaming him even more, uniquely Lance, mixed with the faint musk of arousal.

Lance’s mouth finally made its way to his, and he lost himself gratefully in the kiss, absolutely intoxicated to feel Lance’s tongue stroking against his own.

His fingers swirled over thin satiny bands and bare skin, and he finally realized that Lance could not be wearing anything other than a garter belt.

The thought made him shiver, and one of his hands slipped away from Lance’s rear, to skate along the rise of his bony hip, and around.  He had to shift away slightly to get it between them, but then Lance gasped and dug his fingers into his scalp.

Lance’s head fell back as he arched slightly into the caress of Keith’s hand, bold and strong and all manner of wicked things beneath the maid’s skirt.  “Oh, gods!”   Lightly callused fingers encircled his shaft and traversed a firm, erotic path up and down, and he accidentally bit the inside of his lip in the hazy fog of pleasure.

It wasn’t enough… he had to get more.  Nimble fingers soon became fumbled with the desire, finding the front closure of Keith’s suit and opening it enough to slide a hand inside, seeking the warmth of skin against muscle.

Not wanting to take his hands away, to let the pressure against his hardened shaft lessen, Keith could not help Lance at all with the hidden zip of his flight suit.  But then he found that he could not get enough of Lance’s touch, and dared remove his hand from his flesh, struggling to get out of his clothes with only one arm.  It eventually penetrated his desire-soaked brain that he simply had to stop stroking Lance if he wanted to get out of his damned clothes, and reluctantly pulled his other hand back, too. 

Lance groaned at the loss of contact, but seemed to console himself with the golden skin that Keith was baring for him.

When the suit hung limply around his waist, Keith decided that was enough for now, and worked his hand under Lance’s short skirt once more.

Lance wasn’t waiting around, either.  Wrapping his arms around Keith’s shoulders once more, he closed in quickly to savor the taste, the feel of Keith’s firm lips beneath his.  As his tongue stroked along the inside of Keith’s mouth, one hand slid downwards to dip beneath the fabric bunched at Keith’s waist, into his plain cotton briefs, and spread eagerly to caress the taut buttocks that trembled to his touch.

Keith arched into Lance’s body with a soft moan, his fingers tightening around the hot shaft he held.  His other hand traced the cleft of Lance’s rear, and Lance trembled back into him, gasping in his ear.

He was so hot that he felt he would simply burst into flames, his face buried in the stiff lace at Lance’s collar, breathing heavily.  Slowly, he became aware of the discomfort, the way it scratched at him, and dragged a hand up to fumble at the neck of the dress, searching for a button or zipper or something he could undo.  He wanted to see more of Lance’s skin, to feel it, heated and flushed, under his hands…

His hand was caught and pulled away gently, dragged to hang by their side, fingers entwined.  Lance’s breath was hot and moist against his neck as he pressed slow, opened mouthed kisses down over Keith’s shoulder, then back again. 

“Wha?” Even though he didn’t understand what was going on, Keith’s head still tilted to allow better access for Lance’s roaming mouth.  Then Lance’s lips were back toying with his, and he became lost in their kiss instead.

It was only when Lance reluctantly drew back, just enough to nuzzle his way to Keith’s ear, that Keith realized his hand was being guided beneath Lance’s skirt again, and up over Lance’s rear.

“Just like this, baby,” Lance whispered, low and husky.  “How ‘bout it?”

Keith could only nod, hardly even shocked by the… naughtiness of what Lance suggested.  For a brief, dazed moment, he wondered what it would look like, Lance still dressed, working between his thighs, and had to stop quickly, because it was too erotic for him to handle.

He latched onto Lance’s ear with his teeth, tugging gently, lapping, his hips still working against Lance, but more slowly now, as he tried to keep from climaxing.

Lance’s hand snuck down in Keith’s briefs again, warm on his ass, pinching, caressing, and Keith pressed harder against him, despite his intentions.

He slid his hand down, touching the tops of the fishnets, then up again, along the inside of Lance’s thigh, and cupped his balls, fondling them gently, other hand still busy on Lance’s shaft.  The skirt was rucked up between them, now, and Lance looked so sexy it was obscene, his hardness poking out from beneath the frilly skirt.

“Oh, shit, Keith,” Lance groaned.  Then his hand was clasped in a vice-like grip and forcibly removed.  Lance’s lopsided grin was naughty and apologetic, all at once.  “Gotta save some for later, y’know.”


Lance nodded, and kissed him again, stealing away his breath.  “Later,” he affirmed.  Then he slid his hand, still inside his briefs, around, over Keith’s hip, leaving a trail of fire in its wake, then …  

“Oh, God!” he cried out, hips jerking forward as Lance’s hand closed about him, thumb teasing over the head of his erection.

He shuddered into the long, careful strokes, unsure of just how much more pleasure he could take from Lance’s attentions.  Then Lance’s thumb slid across the slit again, and his brain simply turned to mush.

“Tell me what you’d like, Keith.”  A warm, wet tongue slid over the curve of his ear, and he shuddered again.


“Anything,” Lance replied.

Hundreds of possibilities ran though Keith’s muddled thoughts all at once.  Lance’s hand on his shaft, tongue in his ear, his very closeness all conspired to prevent him from being able to form the words he needed to respond.

“I…” he gasped as Lance’s fingers stroked up him again.  “I just… wanna see you wear that when we…” He cut off with a moan as Lance nipped at his neck, tightening his grip around his cock.

Lance nipped his neck again, then murmured into the bite.  “So, what are you waiting for?”

Reluctantly, Keith pulled his hands away, briefly mourning the loss of contact.  Moving slowly, not from studied sensuality but simply to stay standing, he loosened his boots and toed them off, kicking them absently to one side.  Then he pushed his flight suit down, down, letting the clinging fabric turn inside out as it slid down his thighs, his calves, and taking his briefs with them.  When the cloth puddled at his feet, he straightened and stepped carefully out of it, back against Lance, the crumpled skirt scratchy against his bare skin.

Running a hand up Lance’s leg, beneath the crushed frills of the skirt, he let his fingers travel lightly over Lance’s length.  “I’m not waiting,” he breathed as Lance pressed into his touch.

Lance didn’t resist the impulse.  Stepping closer, his palms flattened against Keith’s shoulders, then raked with exquisite care slowly down his chest, across his stomach, over his hips, and around to cup Keith’s ass.  He felt Keith’s breath hitch as he pressed himself even closer, his eyes closing tightly as Keith responded by working his shaft again. 

Face pressed into Keith’s neck, Lance groaned his delight.

“You still haven’t told me what you want, Keith.”  His husky voice shook with the effort to control himself.  “I don’t care which way it is, but it’d better be soon.”

Keith shook his head.  Lance wanted him to actually try to form words again?  His mouth against soft brown hair, covered by that frilled cap, he managed to speak.  “You…  I just… I want you …” The fingers of his other hand flickered over the cleft that was just barely concealed by the short skirt.

Lance’s mouth found Keith’s, short and urgent.  “Then take me.”

Unable to believe what he’d just heard, Keith froze, just for an instant, then sank down, drawing Lance with him, until they were kneeling on the rug, kissing heatedly.

Keith ran his hands down Lance’s starched uniform, down his muscled thighs, feeling the heat roll off him.

He didn’t want to stop.

But eventually, he had to breathe, and when he came up, gasping for air, the only thing on his mind was Lance, and the desire to feel him, to be inside that hard body, or to have him inside himself—it didn’t matter anymore which way.  He just needed it.

One muscular thigh slid between his, hard and sinewy, the sensation totally at odds with the scrape of fishnets and the crush of satin and lace.  The feel of Lance, grinding against his straddled thigh, came very close to sending him over the edge.  Lance’s low, husky voice whispered to his need and sent shivers along his skin.

Panting, he latched onto Lance’s ear with his teeth, drawing Lance’s hands to his ass again, and he groaned when Lance complied.  “Now, Lance,” he whispered, his breath harsh.  “Now…”

Lance’s gasping breath wafted against his neck, and almost succeeded in distracting him from the feel of a small tube being pressed into his hand.

“Whatever you like, Keith…  remember, whatever you like.”

Keith opened fingers that would not stop trembling and blinked down at a tube of Astroglide.  His desire surged as he looked back up at Lance’s flushed face, knowing his own was just as red.  Lance wants me… me… to…  

His fingers fumbled and nearly dropped the tube as he tried to open it.  Finally, the cap came off, and he let it fall to the carpet.  Cool lube coated his fingers, slicking them in an instant.  The tube followed the cap to the floor, as he reached for Lance, one hand reeling him in for another mind-blowing kiss, the other searching beneath his ruffled skirt.

And then he found what he longed for, and swirled a finger around the opening, a bit hesitant.  Can I…?

Lance ground down, groaning, and that decided him.  He worked his finger into Lance’s body, and was amazed at the heat he discovered.

“Oh, gods!” Lance arched his back sharply with the sheer intensity of pleasure brought on by nothing more than Keith’s finger gently stroke inside him.  This whole experience was fast eclipsing anything he’d done before.  “Keith, hurry!”

One hand slid up his back, a smooth rustle over the fabric of the dress, settling mid way to support him as he leaned back even further, pressing urgently into the hand, warm against his ass, and he moaned again.

His blood roared so in his ears that he barely heard Lance’s order. Bemused, mouth open slightly to draw enough air, he watched as Lance writhed against his touch, felt the strong hands close hot on his bare shoulders.

He rocked his hand against Lance’s ass, trying to drive his finger further inside, because Lance was so… stunning like this…  His cock throbbed in time with the pulse of Lance’s heat around his finger.

“Damn it, Keith, more!” Lance growled at him, snapping him from his daze.  “More!”

Slowly, reluctantly, he withdrew, then pressed back in with two fingers.

He shuddered with want at the sound Lance made.

A handful of gasps later, and something snapped between them.  Keith felt a shudder run right through Lance’s body, then suddenly found himself flat on his back with Lance’s broad palms pressed firmly against his shoulders.  The shock of being slammed to the floor brought him back, aware just enough to reign in a smidgen of control.

But Lance… it seemed Lance had no control left.  His eyes were dilated, wild in his hot face, his lips swollen from hard kisses.  The cap was askew, pushed aside by impatient fingers, and Keith could not stop himself; he fisted a hand in that tousled hair and drew him back down.

The hand against his shoulder disappeared, Lance arching away from him, and he moaned into their kiss, releasing the handful of Lance’s hair to pull him back down with both hands.

Then Lance wrapped a hand around his shaft, callused fingers slippery with lube, and he bucked his hips up, crying out at the way it felt.

“Keith… ” Lance panted against his lips, stealing deep, intense kiss after kiss, “can’t… wait.”

Those muscled thighs slid along his hips again, Lance’s hardness at first pressing along his, then it was gone and he was nudging against slick, tight heat.

Keith’s mind spun, lost in desire, in the heat of the mouth claiming his.  Somehow, his hands were on Lance’s waist, his hips, curling against the satin and lace of the dress.

“Now?” was all he had time to gasp before his body took control, and his pelvis lunged upward.

To hear Lance cry out as he slammed down to meet Keith, and to feel that hot, achingly tight heat wrapped completely around him, and to see that gorgeous male body arching sharply, all encased black, silky fabric with the skirts ruffled and rucked in disarray around their hips… it was more than the stuff of fantasies: it was completely unreal.

And to feel Lance move, sliding up with such exquisite control, then falling back down with complete abandon… heaven didn’t even come close.

Already, he could feel the pleasure cresting within him, centred in his groin, where Lance staked himself again and again.  His eyes rolled back as he clutched at Lance, felt the cloth tear as his fingers clenched too tightly.  He yanked Lance down roughly with each thrust, trying vainly to bury himself further and further in him, wanting nothing more.

Tight, oh, fuck, yes, tight…

Words fell from Lance’s lips, incoherent pleas that Keith could hardly hear over the pounding of his heart.  He managed to open his eyes again, and stared up at Lance in wonder.

It was another mistake; he was an erotic vision, swathed in black and lace and ruffles, hair tumbling around his face in disarray.

The tip of his cock peeked out beneath his skirt, red and beckoning.  Breath coming in short, harsh pants, Keith fumbled with the crushed fabric, pushing it this way and that, trying to move it so he could touch Lance.

Lance shuddered and moaned as the starched material brushed over his sensitized skin.

Then he was there, his hand gripping Lance’s shaft, a bit of cloth trapped between his hand and the hot hard thing he held.

Another deep groan rose up inside Lance, followed by a gasp.  Finally, Keith’s hands were on him again, and oh gods! what a pleasure it was!  A shudder made his thighs twitch and his balls ache, and then another, as Keith’s callused palm worked him with quick, fierce tugs. 

Keith knew all the right places to squeeze, the right moments to scrape his thumb across the head, or when to lighten his touch just enough to have Lance howling with the sensation.  Heaven, hell; up, down; it all meant nothing.

The feel of Keith’s hand, jacking him off amongst the stiff fabric of his petticoats, of Keith’s taut hips flexing almost frantically between his thighs, of feeling Keith’s cock deep inside, and wanting… needing it even deeper with each thrust…

And then he happened to look down into Keith’s flushed face, and caught the look of absolute amazement in his Captain’s dark eyes as Keith, too, groaned with the shudders.

It was all too much.

Hot, tight, slick—that was Keith’s world when Lance met his eyes.

But then… the look of need in Lance’s face… he could see it mirrored something deep inside him, and he tightened his hands in response, one on Lance’s hip, one on his shaft.

He rocked up again, a heartfelt moan of pleasure wrung from him, as Lance’s inner muscles gripped him…

And Lance was crying out… trembling and jerking on top of him… and something hot and sticky was coating his hand… and Lance was rippling around him…

He nearly howled as the pleasure washed over him, his back a taut arch, toes curling into the carpet.

It did not go on forever; nothing that felt that good could.  It went on long enough to wring him dry.  He fell back to the floor with a soft thump, fighting to draw breath, as little aftershocks tingled through him.

“I think you’ve killed me.”  Lance’s chuckle whispered warm against his sweat cooled neck.  His… good God!  This was his lover’s body that lay sprawled across his, a heavy weight that was incredibly enjoyable… and also quite annoying.  He squirmed a bit.

“You’re amazingly talkative for a dead person,” he responded, still a bit short of breath.  He could feel Lance’s thighs quivering against his sides in the aftermath of release, as if they could no longer bear him up.  Which they weren’t, really.  That was why he couldn’t draw air; Lance was pressing it out of him.  He wriggled again, trying to get Lance to move, and shifted his hips.

Lance’s short gasp reminded him of why they were lying here like this. It didn’t help.  “Off!” he grumbled, pushing helplessly at Lance’s broad shoulders.

“Hmm?” That dreamy rumble reverberated right through his chest.

It didn’t quite derail him of his purpose—to get Lance’s dead weight off—but then Lance sighed and settled onto him more firmly, trailing tickling, lazy kisses up the side of his neck.  That distracted him, and he slid his hands over Lance’s shoulders, smoothing them up and down his back.  The satin brushed soft beneath his fingers.

Who needed to breathe when they could have this?  This satisfying closeness?

There was only one thing still bothering him, niggling at the back of his mind, lost in the afterglow of pleasure.  Finally, it worked its way out.  “You still haven’t told me why…”

“I saw you, you know.”

Keith blinked, thrown by Lance’s response.  “Saw me what?”

“Watching her.”  Lance shifted slightly to one side and propped himself up on one elbow, eyes intensely observing his lover

“Watching who?” Keith demanded, confused.  “You already know that I’m not interested in Allura…”

Lance shook his head slowly and simply offered him an affectionate smile.

Keith looked back up at him, confused.  “I don’t understand…”

Lance just chuckled again.  He didn’t think Keith was being deliberately obtuse.  “That little maid last week.  I saw you.  Granted, I don’t know why you were watching her, but I started thinking if that’s what it took to get you to notice me… well, here I am.”

Staring, slightly slack-jawed in shock, Keith tried to remember just what Lance was on about.  Then he remembered, and recovered himself enough to grin.  “Oh, her?” He laughed at the disgruntled expression Lance wore.  “I was trying to screw up enough courage to ask her to clean in here.”  He moved his pelvis again, rubbing against Lance’s ass, and relishing the shudder that ran though him.  “And who wouldn’t notice you?” he asked, reaching up to run a finger down Lance’s chest, through the ruffles of lace, over slick satin.  “In this or otherwise?”

Lance growled and pressed down into Keith’s movement.  “Then you were taking your own sweet time about it,” he complained.

“Sorry.” Looking contrite, he slid his hand over a hip, fingers splaying over Lance’s rear again.  “Can I make it up to you?”

“Mmm,” Lance murmured in agreement, a twinkle glinting his eye.  The look on his face was nothing less than cheeky as he wriggled against Keith’s caress.  “You might have to be a bit creative, though.”

“Creative?” Keith asked, in mock amazement.  “After this?” He flipped up the ruffles of the skirt once more, and rested his fingers on warm flesh.  Squeezing, he smiled at Lance again.  “I’ll try my hardest.”

“Oh, believe me.  Give me half a chance, and I’ll be trying your hardest myself,” Lance smirked.

As was par for the course today with Lance, Keith couldn’t help himself.  He laughed as he drew Lance in for another kiss.