Disclaimer: I own neither Voltron nor the song "To Be With You", by Jamie O'Neal.
Author's Note: My fourth, yes, fourth, Jamie O'Neal songfic. And the album only has 13 songs on it. I don't know what I'm going to do until she puts out a new disc . . . *grin*
To Be With You
Night fell gently over the planet Arus. Hidden beneath its velvety midnight was the sweet escape of sleep.
For some, at any rate.
Allura sat in the window seat in her spacious chamber. Sighing, she leaned her forehead against the cold glass, staring out at the night. Why did Nanny and Coran have to weld my windows closed? she wondered plaintively, her fingers brushing over the melted metal of the lock. I've only wandered away once . . . maybe twice . . .
She sighed again and closed her eyes. The room was dark. She should have been asleep hours ago. It was nearly midnight now. The 'tick tock' of the great clock against the wall seemed very loud. Why couldn't she sleep? The question pounded in her brain, but in truth, she knew the answer.
She couldn't stop thinking about him- her raven-haired knight. He was always there to protect her, to encourage her. But he never called her by name; she was always the Princess to him. Recently, though, there had been a look . . . a look she could only describe as passionate in his eyes. "Oh, Keith," she whispered, fogging the glass with her breath. "Why don't you see me . . . as a woman? Why won't you kiss me?"
"Who says I don't want to?" She gasped at the sound of Keith's voice, her cornsilk hair flying as she whirled to face him. She hadn't even heard the door . . .
He was beside her in an instant, gently stroking her cheek, overwhelming her senses with his closeness, his magnetism. She had no time to react before he was kissing her, plunging his hands into her hair to hold her to him, though she had no intention of letting go her grip on his shoulders.
Allura woke with a gasp as something landed on her stomach. She sat up in her bed, sending the space mice tumbling in myriad directions. Her eyes scanned the room, and then she dropped back to her pillows with a groan, one arm covering her eyes. The space mice chittered at her, but she blocked them out, trying to recall . . .
It had only been a dream. She so longed for it to be real, but it never would be. Unless . . . Determination steadied her as she flung back the covers and grabbed her robe. It can't be real until I ask him, she thought, padding quickly out her door.
***
Though the hour was late, Keith still sat at the terminal in his room, busily working. The reports are endless, even though we're a galaxy away, he thought, rubbing his aching eyes, before returning his gaze to the blare of the screen. A smile quirked at the corner of his lips as another idea struck him. For every action, there is an equal and inversely lengthy report to the superiors. His smile grew. That sounds like something Lance would say . . .
Behind him, the door whooshed open and closed. Keith could feel his back, already tense from being hunched at the computer, grow even more so, even though he knew who it was. Anticipation is a wonderful thing, he thought, closing his eyes. He could easily see who entered his room, by the reflection in the window, but he knew. He smiled.
Arms enveloped him from behind, as a slightly spicy scent invaded his nostrils. Unable to stop himself, he raised one hand to rest on the arms holding him, and leaned back into the other's body. "Still busy?" The softness of the voice, the breath on his neck . . . they made Keith shiver. "It's late, love." A gentle suckling on his earlobe drew forth a quiet moan. "Aren't you tired?" Nibbling kisses were pressed along his neck, leaving him helpless with desire, as the other's hands roamed his chest through his shirt. Suddenly, they stopped, and the voice whispered artfully, "I guess you are . . ."
Quickly pivoting his chair, Keith stared into the other's laughing blue eyes. "You are such a tease, Lance," he growled playfully, pulling the brown haired pilot to him, making him straddle his lap. Hungrily, they kissed, tongues thrusting, hands roving. Lance wore only his sleeping trousers, and Keith could easily feel his lover's arousal as they pressed against each other. The warmth of Lance's skin against him made him moan.
"I've been dreaming of this all day . . ." Lance murmured, undoing Keith's shirt, letting his fingers wander over heated flesh as it was bared . . .
The incessant beeping of the computer brought Keith back to himself. Still lost in a daze, he looked around for his lover . . . then sighed. Another daydream, he told himself regretfully. He isn't your lover. He can't be your lover if you don't ask . . . The strength of his arousal made him groan as he stood. But I'd rather have his friendship like this, than his rejection if he knew, and didn't feel the same . . . At least I can see him, drink in the sight of him, even if I can't have him . . . The dream had been so real, so strong, his passion so inflamed, he couldn't concentrate. He saved his work, and headed for the shower.
Lance knew it was a dream. It was the running-through-corridors dream he often had. In his childhood, he'd been searching for his parents, or maybe his friends. As he grew older, what he was looking for was more undefined, almost unknown. But he still had to run, the hallways hazy about him, leading him on and on, until he awoke, short of breath, legs cramping, hardly rested.
This time though . . . this time, he knew. It was his lover he needed to find. The corridors were those of the Castle of Lions, familiar and at the same time, not, stretching endlessly before him. He ran, clad in only his pajama bottoms, running, running . . .
There! At the end of the corridor, that door. His lover was behind that door. He stopped just short of it, panting, one hand on the wall, before flicking the button to open the door.
"I . . ." Even in the dream, his heart felt a sudden pang at the sight before him. Keith and Allura, entwined in a fierce embrace, Keith pressing her head back with the force of his kiss. Her fingers were twined in his hair, she was holding his lips to hers. His hands spread over her back. She wore only the thinnest nightgown, and he had no shirt. Seeing the way their bodies curled around each other, how right they looked together, Lance couldn't stifle his moan of protest. "No . . . you can't . . ."
They then broke it, breathing hard, and turned to look at him. Lance didn't know which hurt him worse- the smug superiority, the smirk Keith didn't try to hide, or the gentle pity in Allura's eyes. He backed out the door, and his last glimpse before it contracted was of Keith bending to kiss the white column of her throat.
Lance could feel the sweat on his brow as he finally jerked himself awake. Even knowing it was a dream didn't keep him from trembling. He stared sightlessly at the ceiling, shrouded in darkness. How could you? he thought dejectedly. When I've dreamed of doing that to you so often . . . "It's just a dream. Jesus, Lance, get a hold of yourself . . ." But the weird reality of it held him immobile.
Abruptly, Lance swung himself out of his narrow bed. Time to take my courage in both hands, he thought as he made his way to the door. The only way to know is to ask. Momentarily blinded by the lights in the hall, he blinked and let his eyes adjust. If I'm lucky . . . maybe my feelings will be returned . . . He strode quickly down the hall, using every ounce of will to keep from retreating to his room in fear.
Before he knew it, he was outside his would-be lover's door. Squaring his shoulders, he knocked and called softly, "Are you still up? It's Lance."
Keith paused in drying his hair. Now I'm hearing things, he thought incredulously. I could have sworn . . .
Impossibly, the knock came again. "Keith? I . . . I need to talk to you . . ." If it was Lance, as he'd first thought, his voice was heightened by some strong emotion . . .
Wrapping the sodden towel about his waist, Keith went to the door, hoping against hope.
Allura rounded the corner, but ducked back at the sight presented to her. Lance was standing in front of Keith's door. Why? She peered around the corner again, her heart in her throat. Did he see me? She heard the swoosh of the door, the soft exchange of their voices. Then she saw Keith hesitantly put his hand on Lance's arm, heard the intensity of his tone, though she couldn't make out the words. The sudden relief and joy on Lance's face was unmistakable, however. She pulled back and leaned against the wall, panting shallowly, one hand on her mouth. Their voices were cut off by the closing of the door. Well, she thought, holding back the tears. I guess that look in his eyes wasn't for me, after all . . . She stumbled back to her room.
***
October 28, 2001
© randi (K. Shepard), 2001-2002.