Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

“Hey, guys! Welcome back! You will not believe the week I had. I was so busy that I had to jerk off between classes just to keep from going crazy! Oh? You missed me too? That’s sweet. I have been itching to get back in front of the camera and show off my new outfit. Special thanks to AngelSlayer669 for donating it!”

Lance takes off his t-shirt to reveal the pale blue, lace teddy and stockings he has on underneath. Immediately, the gentle flame of comments appearing on his computer screen flickers into a roaring fire.

“Thank you! I was hoping you’d like it.” Lance drags delicate fingers up his legs to the exposed skin at his hips and ass. He loves to feel his body after he shaves, but he always makes himself wait until the stream. Skipping his crotch, he runs his nails over the lace flowers on his abdomen, causing another surge in comments.

A green notification banner catches his attention.

BigDickRich sent you $50! He says: “ rub ur cock thru ur panties ”!

Lance grins and obediently moves to palm himself, throwing his head back dramatically and groaning through his lips. He had to tuck to fit into this tight little getup, but he likes the way tucking makes him look in lingerie, and the different sensations he feels aren’t too bad either. Not five minutes into rubbing his crotch and ever so slightly rolling his hips, he gets another ding.

TwnkTaster388 sent you $150! He says: “ use your wand vibe over the lace, i know you want to slut ”!

Lance giggles, sitting up to reach his box of sex toys— which he keeps just off-screen. “You’re right about that,” he answers. He hasn’t figured out whether his viewers can see requests and donations, but he finds that acknowledging the people with money makes them give him more money.

Bright pink vibrator in hand, he lays back on his bed with his legs splayed out for the camera. He has to hold a button for the vibe to start, and it always makes him jump because he loses track of the seconds. Lightly, he traces his dick with the head of the vibe, watching himself on his computer screen. Seeing himself this way drives Lance crazy; he can’t wait until he’s older and can dress someone else up in silk and lace.

The vibrator satisfies his audience for a good twenty minutes with intermittent requests for Lance to up the intensity or touch other parts of his body with his free hand. The boy is barely able to wait for someone to make him get naked because his erection gets uncomfortable fast in the teddy. When he takes off the stockings, he makes sure to go slower at the feet, flexing his painted toes up close to the camera.

f00tfetishxtreme sent you $100! He says: “ thatnk yoiul “!

Lance winks to the familiar username. He doesn’t know any of his viewers in real life (At least he hopes he doesn’t, holy fuck), but he has come to recognize his regulars.

He lays back again, touching the parts of his body now free to the air. “Can I cum before I penetrate myself?” he asks, stroking his dick at a painfully slow pace.

DadBodinaThong sent you $500! He says: “ Yes, but you have to use cum and spit as lube. Nothing from the bottle. ”!

“Yes, sir.” Lance tries to angle his dick so that he’ll shoot semen on his chest, but he can’t stop himself from spasming and ends up getting himself in the face.

Three different users send him $50 with some variation of “You’re so fucking cute.” in the text box.

Lance licks his lips, getting a taste of his seed. “Thanks!” he laughs sheepishly. Then, following the instructions of more requests, he tries to get the rest of the semen from his face into his mouth, gets on his hands and knees, and fingers his asshole with cum covered hands.

“I’m getting hard again,” Lance whimpers. He can only cum twice in a row, but he’s careful to make himself last long enough for a full hour of streaming. He keeps his ass in clear view, turning himself so his viewers can see that he’s biting his lower lip. “I’m thinking anal beads today. How about you?”

He smirks at the stream of yesses in the comments and almost laughs when some green banners pop up.

“Yessssss” $50

“Holy fuckkyes inchf thisoe ffucking beedas into your tight ligttle asswhole” $250

“use the triangle ones” $100

Lance slinks over to his toy box and procures the fan-favorite: his Spades Anal Beads. There are five beads on this baby; each with a two-inch diameter at its widest. He stares at the toy for a minute, thinking of how he’s going to get it in without lube. He puts the tip in his mouth, per command of another donor, and fits as much in as he can, allowing saliva to run freely down the smooth, black surface.

He spreads his ass and prods it with the beads, hoping his spit will be enough. Slowly, slowly, the first bead goes in, and Lance let’s out a breath he didn’t realize he was holding.

PapaBear1967 sent you $100! He says: “ You get 100 for the first bead. 200 for the next, then 300, ect ”!

Lance has never been able to fit all of the third bead in, but he sure as hell is going to try. Some guy is willing to give him fifteen-hundred for it! He opens his legs as much as he can and pushes the beads in until his arm shakes from the effort. The second bead is almost in— he can feel it— but it hurts. His instincts tell him to stop, to take it out.

AntonioFucks28 sent you $150! He says: “ Shove it in!!! ”!

Lance buries his face in his sheets and uses both hands to force the rest of the second bead in. He bites back a small cry.

PapaBear1967 sent you $200! He says: “ good boy ”!

“Thank you,” Lance whimpers. He gyrates his hips trying to get used to the sensation, holding the beads in place with his hand. He decides it will hurt less if he lays on his back, plus the audience can better see his erection from this angle. He plants his feet firmly on the bed and continues with the beads.

He manages to get the third bead in ($300), but then it pops out, making tears fall from the boy’s innocent blue eyes. He shakily replaces the third bead inside himself and gets halfway up the fourth before he slumps back in defeat.

“I can’t do more,” he tells them, shaking his head. “It hurts too much without lube.”

DadBodinaThong sent you $500! He says: “ I didn’t think you would do it. Your such a good little boy<3 ”!

HappyHillBilly sent you $200! He says: “ pleas let the dildo fall out when u cum omgosh id be so hot :D ”!

“Okay, I-I’ll try.” He lets go of the beads to finish himself off. When a bead pops out, Lance makes another pitiful sound that his viewers eat up. He feels gross when he’s done, covered in sweat and cum and feeling that strange emptiness without something in his ass.

shoogermommuh sent $100! She says: “ Show us that destroyed little hole, you anal fairy freak. ”!

Lance gets on his hands and knees again and spreads his cheeks for the camera, flexing and unflexing his ring.

MolestMeansTouch sent $150! He says: “ EAT YOUR ASS JUICE FROM THE PLUG!! ”!

Lance hesitates to put the dirty toy in his mouth, but he never denies a request. It tastes as disgusting as he imagined it would, so he covers the surface with his tongue, kisses the tip, and gives his goodnight.

“Thank you all so much for watching! Be sure to turn on notifications for my next stream announcement. This is Lover Boy, signing off!” He ends the live stream smiling, then collapses face-first onto his bed.

Lance wishes someone would carry him to the shower; he’s exhausted. He touches his naked backside and pretends it is by the hand of a lover.

“You have to get up, baby,” he whispers to himself. “I know, I know.”

The boy rolls out of bed and starts clean up: ripping off the one-time-use sheet from over his made covers and throwing it away, deleting his internet history and stowing his laptop in its case, putting on his robe and tucking his vibrator and anal beads inside (in case he runs into anybody in the hallway), and heading downstairs to the second story shower. He tosses the dildo in the tub while the water heats up and uses the sink to hand-clean the vibrator head.

His reflection in the mirror above the sink looks ragged— probably because he’s so tired and he was crying. He scolds himself mentally. If he keeps crying every time he cums, everyone is going to think that he is younger than he says he is. Well, he is younger than he says he is, but he doesn’t want his viewers to think that.

In the shower, the running water rejuvenates him by some degree. He frowns at the blood that comes out of his ass, but he doesn’t panic like he used to; this happens when you don’t use enough lube. Lance did a bunch of research about it, and he sees anal fissures as more of an annoyance now than a problem. He can only blame himself, though. It was probably unwise to suggest anal beads— especially the big ones— after agreeing not to use lubricant, but he was really in the mood for them. He made more than $7,000 tonight, which is pretty good for a Tuesday, so he supposes it was worth the pain.

After Lance cleans himself— inside and out— he runs his hands over his body; from his pubic area, up over his belly, across his chest, up his neck, to his lips. He kisses his hand, softly at first, then harder, again and again. He kisses his palm and his wrist, and his fingers again when he presses the heel of his hand to his jaw, to his neck, his collar bone, imagining that some else is here, kissing him back.

Lance turns off the water abruptly. He finishes his nightly skin and hair routine and steps quietly back to his room with the clean toys. When he lays down, all of the energy accrued from the shower dissipates. He checks his phone and notes that he can get five and a half hours if he sleeps in 'til seven.

It's always risky doing a show on a school night, but Lance was desperate for the attention his viewers give him; plus, he doesn't have any homework due tomorrow. Livestreams are a lot less work than the jobs most of the kids his age have, anyway— and they pay a lot better. His family doesn't have extra money to send him to college, so if Lance wants to go and get some degree to get some respectable job, he has to earn enough himself. He's been reconsidering the college path lately, however. What if he could stay in this line of work? Maybe he could try out professional porn when he's eighteen.

Despite his enthusiasm, he cringes at the thought of being a pornstar. It's the title, really, that bothers him. In this world, your job defines who you are and where you fit. Lance doesn't want anyone to think he's just a fickle manwhore, and his family would never approve if they found out. They would probably disown him or something if they knew what he does now, in the dark of night, hidden up in his attic bedroom.

Lance wishes he didn't have to feel so guilty for all the things that make him feel good. More than anything, he wishes he had someone to confide in— someone not in his family— someone who wouldn't shame him for his secrets or his sexuality or anything, really. His viewers keep him entertained, but what he really, really wants is for someone to love him.

Chapter Text

“Lance, I swear to God, if I’m late because you were doing your makeup, I’m going to kill you!” Marco shouts through the door. “You better not be asleep right now!”

“I’m awake!” Lance shouts back. “And it’s not makeup; it’s skincare! But you wouldn’t know anything about that!” He stomps to the bathroom after getting dressed and slams the door because he knows it annoys his brother. When he removes his overnight face mask, he frowns at the dark eye bags on his face. He tries to do a live stream twice a week, but school has been asking more and more of him lately; it’s all starting to take a toll. Lance wipes concealer under his eyes, being careful to hide the tube in his sleeve in case Marco comes in or something.

Lance really hates Marco. They used to be friends when they were younger— even though they fought often— but now Marco is crueler than a big brother ought to be. Once, he pushed Lance down the stairs from the attic, then kicked him down the second set. What kind of psycho does that to his own family?

“Uncle Lance?” Sylvio’s little voice comes from behind the door.

Shit. He was spacing out in the mirror again. He puts his products away and opens the door. “What’s up, little dude?”

“Uncle Marco says he’s leaving in ten minutes.”

“Of course he is,” Lance mutters, hurrying to the kitchen to grab something quick.

“No food in my car,” Marco says, slapping Lance’s hand away from a protein bar. “Now let’s go!” He grabs Lance’s arm and starts dragging him to the door.

“Stop that! I’m coming!” He shoves his brother away and gets in the backseat; his sister Rachel is already in the front. Lance misses his sister Veronica, and he misses when she drove them all to school. Ronni’s the only one who really understands him, but she’s in college now. He only sees her occasionally. His oldest brother Luis isn’t so bad, but when he’s not at work, he’s taking care of his kids.

Lance pushes Keith’s backpack out of his chair when he arrives in class, making some off-hand comment about the other’s stupid hair.

“What the hell, man?” Keith grumbles, retrieving his bag from the floor. “You’re one to talk. Did you not get enough beauty sleep, princess?”

Lance’s mouth gapes in offense. “Excuse me? I am perfection from head to toe! My hair is-”

Keith smirks as he holds up his phone with the front-facing camera for Lance to see.

“So I missed a step,” Lance huffs, taking the clips out of his hair and using the screen as a mirror to put the locks in their place. “At least I have steps to take. You probably don’t even wash your hair!”

Keith rolls his eyes and replaces his phone in his pocket. And did he take a picture of Lance just before?

Lance shakes his head. “And, since you are so curious to know, I did not get enough sleep last night,” he pouts.

“Was it worth it to procrastinate the project and do it all in one night?”

Lance freezes, then narrows his eyes. “There is no project.”

Keith suppresses a smile. That could mean anything! “You didn’t do it?”

“You’re trying to trick me, but it’s not going to work.” Lance is a prank master; he will never fall for Keith’s feeble attempt to get him back.

The horribly-haired boy raises his eyebrows saying, “Oh, yeah? Prove it.” Keith nods to the board. “It says right there: ‘All projects due tomorrow, Wednesday. No late projects will be accepted.’”

If Lance even looks at the board to see, Keith wins. He won’t do it.

“Oh, Mr. Northman is writing something else. ‘Due today,’ it says now; that’s in all caps.” Keith’s grin is the one he always wears when he knows something Lance doesn’t.

“You’re not going to get to me, Keith.” Lance showcases his newfound nonchalance by calmly getting out his notebook and pens and pretending to read yesterday’s notes. “I don’t really care what happens to my grades. I don’t even care if I graduate, at this point.”

Now Keith scowls in disbelief. “Yeah, right. I bet you wouldn’t talk like that in front of Veronica.”

“How do you know Veronica?”

“Seriously? You never stop talking about her.” Keith puts on a falsetto. “I’m Lance. My sister Veronica is so cool! Veronica’s the first person in our family to go to college and she started a year early. Veronica took me to lunch this weekend; she’s working on a secret research project at the Garrison that’s going to save the world!”

“I don’t sound like that,” Lance mutters. “And I don’t talk about her that much. I just miss her.”

“The Garrison isn’t even that far, Lance,” Keith grimaces. “She’s literally minutes away. Imagine how much you’d miss her if she was dead.”

The playful tone of the conversation dies with that.

“What the hell is that supposed to mean?” Lance asks, but Keith has already shut down.

Keith always does this; he’ll be talking like a normal person, suddenly say something weird and cryptic, and then stop talking completely. It gets on Lance’s nerves.

At lunch, Pidge makes the face.

“I didn’t do anything!” Lance defends.

“I didn’t ask yet what you did,” Pidge points out. “But, yeah, what did you say to Keith this time?”

Lance glances at their emo friend, who has his head down across the table. “I’m not sure.” He wants to make it better, but it depends on Keith. They have to let him come to them.

“Do you have lunch today?” Hunk asks Lance when he shows up.

Lance just sighs. “I woke up late,” he mumbles.

Hunk smiles sympathetically. “I’ve got you, buddy,” he says, pulling out a Tupperware container with home-cooked food.

“I love you,” Lance moans, graciously accepting the box. He opens it, letting those sweet Samoan fumes waft into his nose tubes. “Hunk, will you please marry me when we grow up?”

Keith looks up from his arms.

“Don’t worry, Keith. I brought some for you too.” Hunk lays an identical box in front of Keith and then pulls out another for himself.

“Thanks,” Keith mutters. “I don’t deserve this.”

Hunk gives Lance side-eye, silently asking what he did to put Keith in a mood. “Everyone deserves to eat, and if I don’t bring you food, you won’t.” He purses his lips at Lance. “Same goes for you.”

“Well don’t bring any tomorrow.” Lance wipes a bit of sauce from his chin. “Let’s go off-campus. I’ll buy. Even for you, vegan.”

“I’m a vegetarian,” Pidge corrects. “And with what money? I thought Marco stole your shoebox savings.”

“He did, but I have a job now.” Lance hasn’t told anyone how he gets money, but he has enough to be generous, so he is.

“Oh, yeah? Where?”

“It’s a secret,” Lance winks. “I’ll never tell.” If he’s over the top about keeping his work from them, then they probably won’t figure out that he has an actual, serious secret. Most people think Lance is naive and wears his heart on his sleeve, so he plays to that and uses it to his advantage.

Hunk gasps, a little hurt. “You don’t want us to hang out with you while you work?”

Lance forces a laugh, imagining his friends all gathered in his tiny attic bedroom while he fucks himself in front of his camera. “You could say that.”

The next day, they meet in front of the office to go off campus, but Keith starts toward the library.

“Wait!” Lance catches his wrist and pulls him back. “We’re going to lunch. Remember?”

Keith’s eyes widen. “With me? I didn’t think I was invited.”

Lance laughs, ushering the boy along. “Why wouldn’t you be invited?”

“I thought you were mad at me,” Keith mutters, head down. “You hate me.”

“What?”

“Because I said something weird?”

Lance laughs again. “Keith, I know you’re weird, and I’ve accepted it.” He pulls Keith into an awkward hug while they walk. “I could never hate you.” Then he pushes him away playfully saying, “Except maybe for your stupid hair!”

Keith smiles. It’s not one of those wicked grins he uses to taunt Lance, but one that suggests joy. It’s cute.

Lance blushes and turns away to lead his friends to a place to eat.

“What kind of budget are we working around?” Pidge asks.

“Get whatever you want!” Lance shouts as they cross the street, throwing his hands into the air like he’s presenting the world to them. “My love for you has no budget.”

They settle on a cafe that’s also a deli and take seats by a window in the back. From here, you can see a little pond with trees lined all around it. It’s beautiful, even now in the strange space between winter and spring.

“This place is adorable,” Lance coos. “We have to come back here.”

“You just spent fifty dollars on one meal,” Pidge says, sipping the mocha she holds with two hands. “Doesn’t that hurt?”

A few months ago, Lance couldn’t imagine spending fifty dollars on anything, let alone something so fleeting as food. But things are different now. The minimum donation on his streaming site is fifty dollars; he gets that from something as simple as winking sometimes.

“I have a job now,” Lance reminds them. He probably shouldn’t act like he has a lot of money, though; it’s too suspicious. “I don’t have to pay taxes or anything like that. And this was a treat. You all have parents you can ask for money next time.”

Keith chokes on his sandwich and sets it down, looking hurt.

“No he doesn’t,” Pidge scolds. “Keith is an orphan, asshole.”

“Geez, Lance,” Hunk grimaces.

“What?” Lance gasps. “How did I not know that? I feel like a should know that.” He turns to Keith. “I am so fucking sorry.”

“It’s okay,” Keith rolls his eyes, taking up his drink. “You just caught me off guard is all.”

“I’ll pay for you when we go out, then,” Lance says matter-of-factly.

Keith chokes again on tea. “You don’t have to do that.” His face is pink, but Lance can’t tell whether it’s from choking so much or from blushing.

Hunk pats Keith’s back to soothe him.

“Whatever.” Pidge checks something on her phone. “We shouldn’t go out again for a while anyway. Midterms are in two weeks; we should utilize lunch to study.”

Lance slumps in his chair. “Fuck.” Then he perks up. “Wait. That means it’s almost February! High time to switch blues for reds,” he says almost sensually.

Hunk shakes his head. “Lance, I’ve known you for— like— ever, and never once have I seen you wear red.”

“I’m not talking about my outside clothes,” he winks.

Keith takes an especially large bite of his sandwich and swallows it without chewing.

“Oh, please,” Pidge laughs. “Like the color of your boxers is going to change how many people you sleep with.” Then she mouths, “Zero.”

“You don’t know my life,” he says rather haughtily, the lace of his panties burning into his skin.

“I know that you’re a virgin.”

“Wha- How?”

“Yeah,” Hunk joins in. “Can you really tell?”

“Well, I can only tell with Lance. He and my brother are basically the same person, and when Matt finally got laid...I could just tell. I don’t know. It’s- like- you know- the way you talk about it is different.”

“You’re making that up,” Lance asserts.

“Are you?” Keith blurts. Then his eyes widen like he can’t believe he just opened his mouth to speak.

“What?

“A virgin?”

“Oh.” Lance’s gaze goes back to the window. He isn’t sure whether he is a virgin or not. He’s never penetrated nor has he been penetrated by anyone before, though he had some heated make-out sessions with girls in middle school. He doesn’t think masturbating counts as sex, but can he call his live streams masturbating? He doesn’t feel alone when he does that. If people masturbate together, does that count as sex?

“I think so?” he says finally.

The table laughs, Lance included— though more out of embarrassment than amusement.

“My mamá would kill me if I wasn’t!” he exclaims. Or, he adds to himself, if she knew what I am doing now.

Chapter Text

“Oh my god, I’m so glad midterms are over!” Lance stretches out in the library, laying dramatically across Hunk, Pidge, and Keith (his head on Keith’s lap;). “And I’ve been working extra this week too. Ugh! I’m exhausted.”

Pidge, who is still studying for some reason, rests her book on Lance’s stomach. “Are you saving up for Valentine’s Day this Friday? You seem to be into that sort of thing.”

“Nah, I’m single this year.” Lance glances around the library for prospective partners, then turns back to raise an eyebrow at Keith, who is watching him intently.

“Oh!” Hunk perks up. “Does that mean you’ll be free to binge rom-coms and eat shit food with us this year? It’s not too late to join.”

“No,” Lance apologizes. He puts his hands over his face. “I work.”

Keith takes his hands away to scowl in his face. “Why?”

“What?”

“Why do you work on Friday? Can’t you ask off or something?”

Lance’s face splits into a grin. “Are you asking me out on a date?” he teases.

Keith grunts and rolls Lance onto the ground.

“Hey!” Lance cries. He scoots across the floor to put his head on Hunk’s lap instead. “I was joking. You didn’t have to fucking throw me,” he spits at Keith.

Keith isn’t listening though; he is turned away, crossing his arms.

“It’s unlike you to work during anything even resembling a holiday,” Pidge says skeptically, retrieving her book from where it fell. “What gives?”

Lance bites the inside of his cheek. It’s not like he can tell them he’s doing a special live stream for the occasion, and lonely old men will flock by the hundreds to watch him spread his legs.

“I think I’m going to get paid extra,” Lance shrugs.

“You don’t know?”

“I work for tips,” he says quickly. “People think I’m pretty, and they give me money.”

Damnit. That last bit was probably too much information. Even Keith turns back around to furrow his brow.

“I also flirt with anyone who shows up, though,” Lance adds. “And people generally like that.” What is he saying?!

“So you’re a server?” Pidge guesses. “You could have just said that and not told us where.”

Lance shrugs again, hoping they can believe he is an innocent food worker without him having to explicitly lie to them.

When Valentine’s Day finally does come around, Lance is a blushing mess despite being single. He goes through the normal school day distracted and anxious. He gets home and plays nice with Marco so he doesn’t have to do any surprise chores as penance, and after dinner, he turns in early.

“It’s been a long week,” he yawns when his mother asks what’s wrong.

“You’re a handsome boy, like your father, Lancito,” she smiles knowingly. “Don’t you worry about romance for now; the right girl will come when the time is right.”
Lance laughs awkwardly. “Right… Goodnight then!” He almost runs up the stairs so that he won’t have to look at his family any longer while he wears this thing. He locks his door, pushes his toy box against it for good measure, and sets up his equipment. When that’s done, he gets into his secret stash of makeup to add simple highlights and lowlights to his face. Then he sets out the toys he’s going to use for the special live stream.

Announcements:
LoverBoy<3 : “ Hey, guys!! One more hour until we start tonight’s two-hour show!!! I can’t wait to see you there! And I can’t wait for you to see me ;) ”
February 14 @ 9:03 pm CST

He smiles at the flood of responses to his inbox. Notifications in general make him happy, but his viewers really know how to make a guy blush. When his friends are busy at lunch, Lance often finds a quiet spot in the library where he reads over comments and messages from the streaming site via email. He used to worry the school would find out what he was doing because he uses their wifi, but he’s on a private email, so he’s safe.

Lance checks the time— only ten minutes since last he checked. He feels anxious. He decides to take off his shoes before he starts, but he leaves his socks and all his other school clothes. Should he go to the bathroom first? But he’s wearing makeup; Marco would kill him if he sees him. And Lance can’t leave his room unattended with his camera set up and his toys set out.

Announcements:
LoverBoy<3 : “ 30 more minutes :) ”
February 14 @ 9:30 pm CST

Another stream of messages lights up his phone. He entertains himself with those until his ten-minute warning alarm goes off.

Announcements:
LoverBoy<3 : “ Don’t forget: If you want to participate in the Q&A, the minimum donation for questions is $100! And use question marks so I see it <3 ”
February 14 @ 9:51 pm CST

Lance places himself precariously on his bed, deciding to start with his legs together; he has plenty of time to warm up. Each second seems to take longer than the last until, finally-

“Hey, guys! Welcome back! I hope you’ve had a wonderful day so far, and if not, no sweat. We’re going to have a great time tonight. I have some surprises planned,” he winks.

DavidWhite sent you $50! He says: “ Take it off ”!

Lance giggles, messing the hem of his shirt with nervous fingers. “The first surprise.” He removes his top slowly. “I’ve been wearing this all day, y’know,” he purrs. “I could barely focus in my classes because of the way the straps pull when I sit down, but it only made me more excited for tonight.” He plucks a few of the bright red straps to show how tight they are. “I don’t how I’m going to last two hours! You know how sleepy I get after I cum.”

Comments without donations and donations without comments pop up commending his cuteness.

“How about some questions now?” he suggests.

Milky_MILF sent you $100! She says: “ which one of your toys is your favourite? ”!

“My favorite toy? Man, I don’t know.” He works his jeans down his hips as he talks. “I have a lot of fun with the vibrating butt plug someone sent a few weeks ago; I like that I can let it run while I relax.” He stops with his pants just above his bulge and licks his lips. “Sometimes I pretend like I’m tied up with it inside me.”

Prince.of.Planet.Doom* sent you $100! He says: “ Have you ever considered BDSM? You would do wonderfully as a sub. “!

“Um, I’ve thought about BDSM, yeah, but I mostly just imagine it. There’s not a lot I can do on my own in that department. Oh!” Lance finally kicks off his bottoms, eliciting more comments complementing his Valentine’s Day lingerie. “That reminds me: I’m in the market for a fucking machine.” He gets up on his knees— like he’s on a saddle— and puts his hands on the support beam above his head. “I could set myself up like this and maybe use a belt or something to secure my hands. Then it would really be like someone else is here!”

He lets himself picture it for just a moment: his hands bound above him; someone else’s hands gripping his hips hard, using them as leverage to fuck him into oblivion.

“But I have no idea where to look, what I need, what will even work. If you guys have any suggestions, please let me know in the discussion board on my page!”

Lance sits back down, legs open so that his ass and face are both onscreen, and gropes himself over his panties.

“Do you like this little suit? I actually picked it because it looks kinda like bondage ropes.”

A few comments and donations say that yes, they do like it.

Lance continues with the Q and A, answering carefully but— for the most part— honestly. At the same time, he rubs himself until he is so hard he has to take off the thong, stretches his asshole with heavily lubed fingers and a few graduated butt plugs, and puts two vibrating cock rings around his erection: one at the base with the vibrator on his balls, the other just under the head with the vibrator on the little split. He only turns on the one at the base at first; just that makes it difficult for him to think.

“I think I can do one more question before I need to focus on the show,” Lance mutters through a blush.

Space_Daddy sent you $100! He says: “ How old are you? ”!

Lance smiles the way he always does before he lies. “I am eighteen years old.” His giggle is stifled by a little moan. “Mm. That vibe’s in a good spot.”

He grabs the pre-finale— a two-foot-long, blue, sparkly, jelly anal dildo with an inch-and-a-half diameter— from his bedside and lubes it up while laying back on some pillows, legs splayed out in front.

“Some of you missed this one, huh?” he remarks. “I like it a lot, too.”

Lance uses two fingers to open his ass for the tip of the giant jelly cock; it goes about two inches before he has to pump it to get it to go farther. It’s a little harder to do than he thought because of the vibe. Even though he moves slowly, he feels hot and sexual tension seizes his limbs, only being released through uncontrolled gasps and moans.

“Fuck,” he breathes. He has a whole foot inside him now, digging his heels into the mattress in instinctive protest.

f00tfetishxtreme sent you $150! He says: “ plfeatse takje ofdf youor soodscks “!

“Right.” Lance holds the dildo in place and rips off the socks, now free to grip the sheets with his toes.

He decides to turn on the other vibrator, but that sends him over the edge almost immediately. He cries out, barely managing to contain a scream.

390i03273050ei sent you $1000! He says: “ HANDS AND KNEES ”!

$1000? Is he seeing that right? For one request?

Regardless, he obediently moves to his hands and knees, except he can’t stay like that, so it’s elbows and knees.

He tries to keep fucking himself, but the vibes and cock rings are so much; it hurts a lot, but it feels so good. He sobs from the sensation into the sheets.

How much longer can he keep this up? He thought he was done for a while ago, but he promised his viewers a two-hour show. He can’t stop.

Space_Daddy sent you $500! He says: “ Maybe it’s time to take off those rings? It’s been more than 30 minutes... I don’t want you to hurt yourself :( ”!

The dildo shoots out of his ass with a little plop when he lets go of it, though he hardly notices. He doesn’t even turn off the vibrators when he releases himself from the cock rings. Then he stands on his knees and cums through his tears. It’s the most involved orgasm he’s ever had: his whole body jerks, he yells probably loud enough to wake someone up, and he swears he sees stars hundreds of billions of lightyears from Earth.

He collapses, breathing hard, but he’s still in the heat of the moment, his clean hand gripping his hair, his dirty hand at his mouth where he laps at his cum, making a new mess all over his face. Even when he calms down, it’s still like he’s floating.

There are still twenty minutes left on the clock, so he decides to go through with his original plan, despite his exhaustion.

“I have one last surprise for you tonight,” he smirks, crawling off-camera to retrieve his brand new alien dildo. “I’ve never played with something like this before.” He fails to quiet a nervous, almost maniacal, laugh. “I’m kinda scared.”

Scary is the only way Lance knows how to describe the dildo. It’s huge— bigger than his forearm— and the shape is like...it’s like...two giant dicks fused together. But they’re also mecha, and they’re also reptilian.

“A very special thanks to...teenGui11otine for having this custom made for me!” He lets out a breath. “Okay.”

He applies a very liberal amount of lube to the toy and then gets on his knees again, facing away from the screen this time. Carefully, carefully he lowers himself onto the strange cock. He has a lot of trouble because his asshole is so sensitive right now, and the longer he stays up on his knees, the more they quake.

Lance lets out a long, shaky moan when he finally sits on his bed— the entire thing inside him.

“Fuck. Fuck.”

He lifts and drops himself, leaning forward onto his arms for support, in order to fuck the giant, alien dildo. When he can’t make his legs take him back up, he lays on his side and grabs the base with his hand to keep it going. There’s no way he’s going to cum again, so he stops a couple of minutes before midnight.

BelindaBlumenthal01 sent you $100! She says: “ pukker theat as$s little boy. ”!

MolestMeansTouch sent you $300! He says: “ e a t i t ”!

Without really thinking, Lance stuffs his mouth with the lube-covered, deep-ass-flavored fuck-stick. He gags, but something in him likes it, and he keeps going. At the same time, he lifts his buttcheek to show off his gaping hole. He looks back at the screen and flinches the bright red, fleshy hollow behind him.

“It’s going to take a little while for me to recover from this,” he notes soberly. “Good thing it’s the weekend!” He turns onto his back. “I’m so tired; I’m tempted to not even clean up after myself tonight, to sleep in this mess.”

He is very tired, but Lance would never.

“Anyway, I hope you had fun,” he winks. “I feel...amazing. Oh, yeah! Don’t forget to post suggestions for a fucking machine, and if you want to send me something, mailing information is on my page. I can’t wait to see you all again! But until then, happy Valentine’s Day!” He lifts one arm to do a two-finger salute. “This is Lover Boy, signing off.”

Lance turns off the camera and closes his laptop. He intends to put everything away tonight, but when he moves to sit up, he shivers in pain; there’s no blinding pleasure to it now. He eventually gets past his barricaded door and downstairs to the shower, washing himself and his toys, but he can’t make himself meticulously replace everything in his room before he passes out on the dirty, single-use sheet.

It’s a good thing Marco doesn’t barge into his room on the weekend mornings.

Chapter Text

Lance chokes on his breakfast when he sees how much money he made Valentine’s Day. The week leading up to it was kind of slow in terms of donations per live stream, but on Friday Lance made $21,250. That’s more than three really good shows combined!

“Lance! No phone at the table,” his mother scolds.

“Sorry, Mami.” Lance tucks his phone in his pocket, suddenly unsure of whether he read that number right. With all that he’s saved, he can probably cover his undergraduate expenses at the Garrison (if he gets in), and that’s without any scholarships. That makes his soreness today worth it. But he wonders: If he has enough money, should he keep live streaming? He only started so he could get money for college. Is it too early to save for grad school?

“What are you thinking about, baby?” his mom asks. “You look so focussed.”

“Uh…” Lance sets down the empty spoon he almost put in his mouth. “I’m thinking about school-”

“That’s a lie!” Marco butts in. “You were probably thinking about whatever messed up porno you were watching last night, creep! I could hear it through the vent in my room!”

“No!” Mamá shouts. “Don’t say that! Especially not at my table!” She scoffs in disgust as Marco leaves the room, turning back to her youngest. “What were you saying, baby?”

Lance’s hands shake under the table; Marco heard him. Does he know it was Lance making those sounds? Does he know what he was doing last night?

“Lancito?”

He smiles to hide his panic. “I’m thinking about the Garrison; I wonder if I can do the early admission thing Veronica did. The one where she was still a senior but also a freshman?”

His mother purses her lips and is quiet for a moment. “That’s a very competitive program, sweetheart.”

Lance’s smile falters. “I-I know. I’m not a genius like Pidge, but I’m smart.”

“Of course you are! It’s just-”

“I think I’ve got a shot, at least.” He was confident in this, but his mother’s reactions give him doubts. “If I apply myself and study and stuff, I think I could at least qualify.”

His mom takes a deep breath and sighs. “You’re right, Lance. If you work hard, you can do it; I know you can.” She glances helplessly around the kitchen as she admits, “But we don’t have any extra money right now to give you the tools we could give Veronica.”

A pang of guilt hits Lance. He could probably solve all his family’s financial troubles if they’d let him, but even if they would accept his money, he couldn’t tell them how he got it. “I have a little bit saved up,” he says. “I can get my own stuff. And Pidge and Hunk and Keith and I, we’re all going to study together.”

“I thought you lost your money,” Mamá winces.

“I didn’t lose it; Marco stole it.” Lance rolls his eyes, “But anyway, I can take care of it, a study book and stuff.”

His mom sighs again. “I suppose I should tell you then: the Holts called. They said they could get you a discount for a prep course since they’re professors at the Garrison, but it’s still sixty dollars— and the book is twenty.”

Lance nods. He doesn’t want to seem like eighty dollars isn’t that much to him. “I can do that,” he says.

The next Monday, Lance brings up the prep course to his friends.

“Hunk and I enrolled, like, two weeks ago,” Pidge says. She holds up the book she was reading to show the cover: U.S. Galaxy Garrison Pre-Admission Entrance Exam Preparation Guide. “I’ve been working through this since midterms.”

Lance looks at Keith, who seems worried too. “Is it too late to enroll? I- I don’t know if I have a chance without help.”

“There’s still space!” Hunk exclaims. “I think like five spots left or something, but get in now if you’re going to do it. The class is doing a diagnostic test next week, and you’ll want to be there for that. We’re still going to study together either way, though, right?”

“Yeah!” Lance pulls out his phone. “I’ll enroll right now.” He enters all his information but hesitates over the “add student” button. “Keith, are you in?” He looks up when the other doesn’t answer.

“I can’t afford it,” Keith mumbles, starting to close himself off from them, but Lance won’t have it.

“But...you want to do it, right?”

Keith swallows. Then he shrugs. Then he nods.

“I’ve got you, buddy,” Lance smiles, adding Keith’s information to his tab.

“You can’t-”

“Up-bup-bup!”

“But-”

“Nope! I already paid for it,” Lance says, showing his digital receipt, “so you have to go.”

“I….” Keith looks distraught like something is burning on his tongue, but he refuses to spit it out. “Thank you,” he says.

“Yeah, damn, Lance,” Pidge laughs. “That was generous.”

Lance glances at each of his friends, hoping they don’t think it was too generous. “Yeah, well…” His eyes land on Keith. “I can’t imagine doing this without you.” He winks, and you would have thought Lance pulled out a gun for Keith’s reaction, jumping out of his seat and running to the bathroom the way he does.

A week later, the gang is at Pidge’s house, going over everything they missed on the diagnostic exam. Lance did the worst of the four of them, but he doesn’t beat himself up too much about it because his friends are literal prodigies, and Lance did better than he thought he would at the beginning anyway.

They study dutifully until Hunk throws down his pencil and stands suddenly.

“Guys,” he says seriously. “Can we make a promise?”

Lance nods, and Keith and Pidge watch to see what Hunk has to say.

“It’s really hard to get into the Garrison, like, at all, and it’s even harder to get into the Garrison like this, so let’s promise…” Hunk makes eye contact with each of them and nods curtly. “Let’s promise to stay best friends and be happy for each other, no matter who gets in or who doesn’t. Yeah?”

“Yeah!” Lance pumps his fist, standing as well.

“Yeah, okay,” Pidge says, calmly continuing her work.

Keith laughs quietly through his nose and turns a page in his book, but Lance can tell he’s moved.

When Pidge finishes going through her test, she helps Lance go through his. It takes longer this way because Pidge explains everything and waits for Lance to understand instead of just writing the answer explanation from the book like he was doing before. It’s kind of exhausting, but Lance feels really smart when they finally finish.

“Okay, now get out of my house,” Pidge shoos. “My Dad is teaching me to drive, but I’m not allowed behind the wheel unless I get at least nine hours of sleep, and it’s already ten.”

Keith flinches. “It’s already ten?”

“Well,” Hunk looks at his watch, “it’s actually ten-ten. Ten-eleven.”

“Shit,” Keith mumbles, packing his bag. He stops, looks at Lance, then starts packing his bag again.

Lance texts his mom, telling her he’s ready for her to get him and apologizing for being late, and Keith hovers silently while they wait in Pidge’s living room for almost ten minutes before he finally utters an “uh...Lance?”

“Yeah?” Lance raises an eyebrow. “What’s up, buddy? Do you need a ride?”

Keith nods. “Um, actually...can I stay at your house tonight?” He fidgets with his backpack zipper and looks everywhere but Lance’s face, holding his breath for an answer.

“Yeah, probably.” He smiles when he catches Keith’s eye for a second. “Is there a reason, or are you finally willing to admit that you like me?”

“What?!”

That got him to look.

“That you don’t actually hate me,” Lance explains. “Cause we’re friends?”

“I couldn’t hate you if I tried,” Keith sighs, slumping and looking away again. “I’m past curfew is why; they don’t let anyone into the home after ten. But I-I don’t have to go to your house if you don’t want me there. I can usually sleep for like four hours at IHOP before they kick me ou-“

“No!” Lance gapes. “I’ll sneak you in my backpack if I have to, but you can’t sleep at IHOP!”

Lance whispers the story to his mom when she arrives, and her bleeding heart accepts Keith with open arms, offering him a place to sleep and a warm meal at their house any time he needs one.

The way Keith follows Lance around when they get to his house is kind of cute, but he drops him off in his room to get settled so Lance can complete his skincare routine. When he comes back, Keith snaps shut the lid of Lance’s toy box and crawls backward until he hits Lance’s desk, red in the face and eyes open wide.

“Sorry!” he squeaks. “I didn’t mean- I mean- What? I wasn’t-”

“What are you doing?!” Lance whisper-yells, also red in the face.

“I don’t know!”

“What did you see?!”

“I-I don’t know! I was looking for blankets!” Keith covers his face with his hands, only opening his fingers to see Lance. “I was going to make a pallet on the floor.”

Lance shakes his head. “You don’t have to sleep on the floor!” He turns around, walks out of his room, screams quietly, and comes back in. “Sleep in my bed.”

Keith’s eyes somehow get even wider.

“I’m not going to fuck you or anything!”

The boy on the floor gulps. He grabs his hair and shakes his head. Then he nods, slowly removing his hands from his face. “Okay.”

It’s awkward getting into the bed and then trying to go to sleep after that. Lance lays on his back, pressed up against the slanted wall of his attic bedroom, and Keith makes himself into a ball— half on the bed, half off— with his back to Lance. There is about a foot of space between them in the middle of the bed, but Lance is afraid to make Keith more uncomfortable than he already is, so he keeps his distance.

A silent, sleepless hour goes by for Lance. He can’t sleep thinking about what has happened: Marco heard him during his last live stream, and Keith simply opened the box to all his secrets. He’s getting sloppy. Maybe he should get a lock for his toys. Would it be too obvious that he is hiding something though if his mom saw it? What if she snoops through his stuff anyway, regardless of suspicions? He’d better get a lock, he decides.

Keith shifts to his back, stretching out his body to its full length.

“Are you awake?” Lance whispers. He doesn’t see it, but he can feel Keith rolling his eyes.

“No.”

There’s an uncomfortable stretch of silence.

“Why do you have so many?” Keith eventually asks. “I mean, you live your life, but why- how do you have so many?”

“So many what?”

The light of the moon shining through the lone window reflects off Keith’s crossed arms.

“You know what I’m talking about,” Keith whines. “Don’t make me say it.”

Lance doesn’t know how to answer; he doesn’t know if he should.

“That’s not…” Lance trails off. “I don’t have to tell you, y’ know.” He thinks he sees Keith bury his face again.

“I’m sorry I asked. I don’t know what I was thinking.”

Lance considers confiding in Keith for a second— it would be nice to share the burden of a secret with someone— but the words catch in his throat, and he feels sick. He feels guilty. But why? He doesn’t have a problem being a cam boy, but for some reason the thought of Keith knowing what he does makes him feel like he’s doing something wrong.

“Are you gay?” Keith blurts.

Lance opens his mouth, but he doesn’t know what to say. Why would Keith accuse him of something like that? Wait, accuse him? What is Lance thinking? It’s not a bad thing to be gay, even if it’s not a good thing. Lance isn’t gay. He likes boys, sure, but he likes girls too— probably more than boys. He’s more into boys liking him than he is boys themselves.

“Um, no,” Lance laughs. It’s not technically a lie since he’s not exclusive to gentlemen, but a condescending note comes out in his tone. “I like gay people, though,” he adds to console this.

“It really doesn’t sound like you do.” Keith sounds far away. “I shouldn’t be surprised since Marco is your brother.”

“What does that mean?” Lance feels offended that Keith would equate him to Marco like that.

Keith turns onto his side to look at Lance— or look in his direction, at least. “You don’t know?” he asks. “Marco hates anything that’s not one-hundred percent straight.”

Lance’s mouth goes kind of dry. As far as he can tell, everyone in his family— except Veronica— isn’t particularly fond of the LGBT community. If any of them knew he wore frilly underwear and played with himself for an audience, they would never treat him the same.

“I truly don’t hate gay people,” Lance huffs. “And I am nothing like Marco, okay?”

“Okay.”

Keith shifts onto his back again.

Lance closes his eyes. “What about you?” he asks.

“What?”

“Are you gay?”

“I’m....well...um. I think so, yeah.”

“Wait, really?”

“Yeah?”

Lance feels weird being in bed with a boy who likes boys, but he thinks about it for a second and finds it doesn’t matter: it’s the same Keith, after all. Unfortunately, the best response he can come up with is, “Cool.” And then, only God knows why, he asks, “Do you want some of my dildos or something?”

Keith falls off the bed and freezes on the ground. Then he laughs. “Sorry, I really misheard you just now.” He stays on the floor but rests his arms on the bed.

“They’re clean,” Lance points out (Why is he trying to sell his sex toys to Keith?!), “and I’m not using all of them. Seriously, you can take a few if you want.”

Keith buries his face in the sheets, muttering “This is not happening,” over and over again.

“Keith,” Lance giggles. He reaches in the dark, and his hand lands on Keith’s head. “I’m kidding,” he lies. “I’ll buy you your own.”

The distressed gay lifts his head, but Lance doesn’t remove his hand, instead weaving his fingers into Keith's hair.

“It’s so soft,” Lance comments, combing through the long black locks above Keith’s neck.

“What?”

“I said mullet!” Lance pulls the hair, jerking Keith backward.

“Ouch!”

“You have a mullet! That’s why your hair is so stupid! I knew there was something wrong with it!”

“Calm down,” Keith mutters. Finally crawling back into the bed. “Go to sleep already, will you?”

When Lance wakes up, he is in the middle of his bed, and Keith is nuzzled into his side. He realizes his hand is in his hair, absently massaging his soft scalp. It’s a peaceful moment. Lance tries to imagine he’s waking up after sex and cuddling with a lover, but this moment with Keith is fine how it is. He’s glad something closed the space between them.

Chapter Text

It’s a chilly day, so they walk quickly to the little cafe, and they barely manage to get there before it starts raining. Hunk sits by the window, and Lance leans on him, checking his emails while Pidge orders drinks for them.

Keith didn’t come with them.

Ever since their sleepover, Lance hasn’t seen a whole lot of him. He always felt like Keith was avoiding him, but just with his eyes, like a nervous tick. Now Lance feels his absence everywhere; even in the classes they share, Keith doesn’t rise to Lance’s taunts as he did before. Lance thought that night made them closer— Keith did come out to him after all— but maybe he misread something.

An email from his live streaming website administrators takes his attention:
Congratulations Lover Boy<3 ! Your archived video, “Valentine’s Day Special ;)”, is on the top ten list for views this week! As a reward, choose one of the following perks:
FREE advertisement of your page!
or
FREE worker’s insurance!*
or
FREE subscription to Adult Toyz R Us !
Please note that these benefits are only available while your video is on a top ten list. Click to let us know what you choose!
*item may require additional personal information

He grins, selecting free advertising and entering his password. It’s probably not that big of a deal getting to the top ten— how many people even use his site?— but he feels proud.

“Are you texting Keith?” Pidge asks, setting cups of coffee and tea on their table. “If he sent you a meme, I wanna see it.”

Lance puts down his phone and sighs. “No. I haven’t heard anything from him in like a week.”

Pidge and Hunk share a look.

“It’s not my fault!” Lance huffs. “At least… I don’t think it is.”

“You should talk to him,” Hunk suggests earnestly.

Lance raises a brow. “Why me? He likes you better.”

“Not true,” Pidge shakes her head. “Have you not noticed he only talks to you? Even when we’re all together.” She takes a drink to dilute what she’s about to say. “If he’s not talking to you, then…. What if he’s- y’know?” She takes another drink, swallows hard, and sets down her cup. “Just talk to him, alright?”

Lance’s stomach sinks as her meaning settles in. “I’ll talk to him, yeah.” He laughs to try to ease the tension, but it makes him look more insensitive than anything. “Geez, Pidge, it’s not like he would kill himself.”

But how would Lance know? He seems to be oblivious to everything when it comes to Keith: he didn’t know that he’s an orphan, that he’s gay, that he mostly talks to Lance. What if he would kill himself?

“I-I’ll talk to him in class.”

Except Keith isn’t in class.

Was he here earlier today? Lance can’t remember since he’s been ignoring him. He can’t think about anything else for the whole rest of the day. He tries calling and texting but gets nothing; he can’t sleep all night, waiting to see if Keith will text back.

The next day, he’s still not in class. Lance thinks about calling the cops and reporting him missing when he bumps into him outside the counselor’s office.

“Oh, my god!” Lance exclaims, hugging his friend as if he might disappear at any moment. “Keith, where have you been? Are you okay? Why were you in the counselor’s office? Is something wrong?”

Keith laughs and unlatches Lance’s arms from around him. “I was only gone for a day, Lance. Calm down.”

Lance is glad to see him smile, but he is also mad now that Keith never texted him back. “It was more like two days, Keith, with no word, no warning. I was worried.”

Keith grins. “You were worried about me?” Then something sours his smile, and he turns slightly away. “I was taking my driver’s test, and I forgot to turn my phone back on after. And just now in the office, I was getting a parking pass.” He sighs heavily. “I saw your messages this morning, but I didn’t want to text you back. Sorry.”

“What?” It’s a weird thing to admit, but Lance was a little thrilled when Pidge said Lance was Keith’s favorite. Now he doesn’t even want to answer him? “So you really have been ignoring me…” he droops. “Why? Did I do something wrong?” Maybe offering his dildos was too far for Keith.

“N-no,” Keith stutters. “I’m just trying to cut myself off, y’know?”

“From what? From me?” Lance looks up into Keith’s eyes now wet with tears. “What’s wrong?”

Keith’s attempt to smile is pitiful. “Nothing’s wrong,” he laughs, except that fails too, and he starts crying for real.

Lance sits down with him on a bench in the hallway, and Keith cries onto Lance’s leg, trying to hide his face from the kids leaving school. Marco is not going to wait for this, but Lance can’t make himself care about that right now. He runs his hands through Keith’s stupid, silky mullet and periodically asks “What’s wrong?” or “What can I do to help?”

“You can’t help it,” Keith mutters soberly. “It’s because of you, but it’s not your fault.”

That makes Lance feel worse. “What is it? How can I help it if I don’t know what it is?”

Keith grabs Lance’s hand where it rests on his head and holds it there. Then he lets go and shakes his head. “It’s stupid.” His body shakes with another wave of suppressed tears. “God, I’m so fucking stupid. I hate myself. I hate you.”

“Woah, woah, woah, woah, woah. Woah. Keith.” Lance pulls the boy up to look at him. “One, you’re not allowed to hate yourself. Two, I thought you could never hate me.”

Keith nods, “Which is why I hate you.” He buries his face in his hands. “It’s really not fair,” he whines, but at least he’s trying to wipe his tears now. “Why are your legs so smooth?" he sniffs.

Lance hesitates to answer, but it's only for a second! "Swim! I'm on the swim team! We have to shave for water resistance."

"But it's the offseason," Keith pouts. "Is that the only reason you shave?" The poor boy sounds almost hopeful for another answer.

Lance can only shrug. "Um, hygiene? You know I'm way into skincare."

"Don't remind me!" Keith wails, burying his face in Lance's shoulder this time.

Lance wraps tentative arms around Keith, his fingers entwining themselves in Keith's hair.

They stay like that until Keith's breathing finally steadies, and he mumbles, "I can’t believe I just fucking cried on you.”

“It’s okay, buddy,” Lance says as he obtains the first tissue from the pocket pack his mom makes him carry and hands it to Keith. “We all need a good cry sometimes.”

Keith dries his face and blows his nose. “By helping, you’re not helping,” he growls.

Lance takes his anger as a good sign, even if that anger is directed at him.

“Thanks, though,” Keith mumbles. He stands and puts his bag on. “It’s not that bad; it just feels like it is, y’know? I’ll get over it; I just don’t want to.”

Lance claps him on the shoulder. “I understand. Hormones and all that. But listen…” He moves so Keith is forced to look at him. “I’m here for you if you need anything. Pidge and Hunk, too. Seriously, dude, whatever you’re going through, you’re not in it alone.”

Keith rolls his eyes. “Shit like this is why I can’t hate you… which makes me hate you.” He pushes Lance. “Asshole.”

Lance scoffs, and then he laughs, pushing Keith back.

They walk together out of the school, and Lance notices a text from Rachel saying she and Marco went home without him. Typical.

“Hey, Keith?” Lance asks. “You said you just took your drivers test…. You wanna give me a ride?”

Keith blushes but nods. “It’s a motorcycle, though.” He leads Lance to a red bike in the middle of the now-empty parking lot. “Is this okay?”

Lance grins. “Keith, my man, where the hell did you get this thing?”

Keith kicks at the asphalt as he confesses, “I’ve been putting my lunch money into savings instead of spending it on food. I think I’ll have to keep using lunch money for gas and stuff, but hopefully, it’ll be enough until I can get a job-“

“Nooo, Keith, don’t get a job. You don’t need that stress on top of studying for the GG PEE!”

“Why not?” Keith raises his eyebrow. “Don’t you have a job?”

Fuck. Lance forgot about that. “That’s different.”

“How?”

“It’s just...a different kind of job.” Lance desperately searches his brain for something to change the subject, and then he gasps. “What if you drove me around, and then I pay you for gas, and that’s your job?!”

Keith grimaces. “I can’t take your money, Lance.”

“I’m not just giving it to you! I’d be paying you for service! Come on, Keithy.”

“Fine, but you’d better give me reasonable hours.” He plops a helmet on Lance’s head, earning a look from the other. “We need to protect precious cargo,” he explains.

“What do you mean by ‘reasonable hours?” Lance asks.

“Like, you can’t pay me for a ten-minute ride home. But...we could go for a ride if you wanted to.”

“Yeah!” Lance giggles, getting on the bike how Keith shows him. He starts the ride with his hands on Keith’s hips, but he feels like he’s going to fall off like that, so he wraps his noodle arms around Keith’s torso, essentially hugging him from behind. Lance has never been on a motorcycle before, but he’s having a lot of fun, laughing gleefully like a little child on a rollercoaster.

When it starts to rain, they stop at a park and take shelter under a pavilion. It’s nice. Really nice. As in Lance wants to hold Keith’s hand and stay out here with him until it’s night and kiss him under the stars kind of nice.

When it stops raining, however, they head back to town, and Keith drops Lance at his house.

“Hey, man,” Lance starts, but he can’t figure out what he’s thinking enough to convert it into words, so he says, “Thanks.”

They hug, and Keith leaves.

“You won’t believe what happened today,” Lance coos to his camera. Before filming, he blocked his vents and the space under his door with blankets so no one will hear him. “It wasn’t explicitly a date, but it felt like a date.” He runs his hands over his body for emphasis as he explains how he was pressed up against Keith on the motorcycle.

He opens his legs to recreate the scene more sensually, but his knees snap together and he’s caught in a fit of giggles.

“I can’t believe I’m thinking about him like that.”

Lance covers his face, blushing, giggling, and kicking his legs.

“I think I have a crush!”

The comments are pretty mixed about this, some being all for Lance having relationships outside of the show, others jealous he exists at all outside of their views.

“You don’t have to worry about me,” Lance admits. “I act like a slut, but can’t even hold hands with the guy.”

Everyone in the comments is on board with this secret innocent side, at least.

As Lance continues the live stream, he keeps imagining Keith doing things to him, and this makes him giddy and embarrassed.

“I’ve never done this thinking about a real person before.” Lance bites his lip. “God, is it obvious I’m a virgin?”

Then he is subjected to another fit of giggles as he thinks about Keith taking his virginity.

When Lance fucks himself per viewer request, his body responds differently than usual: he feels hot but all over instead of just between his legs; his face glows with embarrassment, but he embraces it; and when he cums, it feels deeper somehow— like every nerve in his body is contributing to the orgasm. He almost shouts Keith’s name!

Then it’s over. He says goodnight, cleans up his mess, and goes to bed— but instead of sleeping on his back like usual, he moves a pillow to cuddle into his side, and holds it against his shoulder, imagining a stupid, silky mullet between his fingers.

Chapter Text

To: me
From: Prince Lotor (Prince.of.Planet.Doom)
No Subject
The suggestions on your page for fucking machines are an absolute mess, so I went ahead and bought one for you. I use this model for my own show, and I can affirm its quality. It’s rather expensive but a gift to you nonetheless. I ask that you allow me to coach you when you use it, and that would make all $3000 worth it, but, of course, that is your choice.

Please email me back if you wish to set up a correspondence.

To: Prince Lotor (Prince.of.Planet.Doom)
From: me
Re: No Subject
Thank so much for the gift! I would love some instruction, but I plan to use the machine for the first time on camera. I know how to have a separate chat open during a live stream, but do you know if there’s a way my other viewers could see what you are saying?

Thank you again for the gift <3

To: me
From: Prince Lotor (Prince.of.Planet.Doom)
Re: No Subject
Of course. I will send you the instructions for the live-chat shortly.

Lance’s body burns with anticipation. How long has he wanted a fucking machine? Since he started watching porn in seventh grade? Okay, not explicitly back then. It took him a long time to realize he wants to be on the receiving end.

He asks Keith to take him to the post office where he has a private P.O. Box that he got specifically for toy deliveries.

“You know there’s no secret storage compartment on this thing, right?” Keith asks when Lance lugs out the rather large box.

Lance looks down at the motorcycle and purses his lips. “Your satchel bags were bigger in my head.”

Keith sighs, digging through one of the said satchel bags. “You’re lucky you’re pretty.”

Lance would normally take offense to this, but he can’t process much past the fact that Keith just said he was pretty. He helps strap the box to the backseat kind of thing, and his and Keith’s hands brush against each other. Lance smiles. Does he usually smile this much around Keith? He laughs to cover it up, but it comes out as a nervous giggle. Fuck. He looks away to try to get a hold of himself, forcing the laugh into a guffaw.

“Uhh… Are you okay?” Keith asks.

“What? Yes!” Lance wipes his tears on his sleeves. “I’m just havin’ a good time!”

Keith laughs, shaking his head. “You’re a fucking dork.”

Lance blushes, flattered.

On the way to his house, he has to ride closer to Keith than usual because of the box, and his heart hardly stays in his chest. He wonders if Keith suspects what is strapped to his bike; then he would be just as flustered as Lance!

Keith offers to carry the box to Lance’s room, but Lance has had way too many dreams about such a situation to allow it with his mamá home, so he pays Keith and sends him away.

“I’ll see you at school tomorrow, mullet.”

Then Lance takes the box to his room and showers and dresses before he even looks into it because he knows he won’t be able to stop himself from playing with the machine once it’s out. He wears sheer stockings and his favorite blue garters with the kitties on the buckles, and he slips on a thong to keep his bits in place while he works and a short, silk robe over top for a little element of surprise.

He opens the chat with Prince Lotor— who seems just as excited as Lance— and they decide to live stream the unboxing and setup. It’s different having someone to talk to directly, but Lance likes it; it feels more real that people are watching him. God, what if Keith is watching him right now?!

He buries his face in the instruction manual to hide his blush.

“Sorry!” Lance says, peeking out from behind the paper. “I’ve been unusually giddy today.” He lowers the page and shakes his head of remaining distractions.

He needs to focus on setting up his fucking machine anyway. Lotor guides him through it, and a few viewers pop in and out of the comment section to share their anticipation.

Finally, the set up is complete, and the machine is sized to Lance. He considers running down to the bathroom to wash the attachable dildo, but it’s too risky; he decides to clean it thoroughly with the sex toy cleaner he hides in his room. His alarm for ten goes off, signaling that it’s time to start the actual show. His hands shake in anticipation as he kneels on his bed in front of his camera.

“Hey, guys! Welcome if you’re just now joining us. As you can see, the fucking machine is here! A very gracious donation from fellow live-streamer, Prince.of.Planet.Doom, who is also guiding today’s video! He really knows what he’s doing, too; I was researching him earlier, and wow! He- just wow.”

Lance feels himself blush at the memory of watching gay BDSM for the first time. He is horny pretty much all the time, but he’s never been so hot as when he was watching boys like him getting so utterly destroyed.

“Anyway! I’ll archive this video, so be sure to save the link and share it!”

At Prince’s command, Lance runs a hand over his body, letting his bare chest peak through the now loose silk robe. He goes down low enough to just brush the tops of his thighs with his fingertips and comes back up to untie the robe with a single finger. As it slips off his shoulders, the first wave of donations rolls in.

“Thank you!” Lance grins. He crawls to the edge of his bed, letting the robe drip to the floor. When he comes back into view, he has a bottle of strawberry-scented lube. Even though his viewers can’t smell it, they go absolutely nuts at how cute their little lover boy is for having it. He makes a slimy mess of his thong before slinging it off where it splats against his door. He winces internally at the mess but does his best to keep face for the show.

Lance lies back on some pillows and spreads his legs wide, being careful to follow Prince Lotor’s instructions precisely. He’s scared to get in trouble if he does something wrong, but the idea also excites him. He pumps his cock with one hand and fingers himself with the other to prep his asshole.

He imagines everything he’s going to do on the machine next to him and cums way too early!

“Oops!” he giggles, licking a bit of cum off his thumb. “Did I mention how excited I am?”

Lotor makes Lance prop himself up with his legs— like he’s about to crab walk— and gyrate his hips with his fingers still inside him. He’s tired from his first orgasm, but he has to keep up his energy for the machine! He lets himself moan out loud, hoping the towels he used to block the door and vent keep the sound from Marco’s room below. His legs are shaking with the effort to keep himself up before Prince Lotor finally tells him to take a break.

He drinks some water, and the comment section is active even now, listing other things Lance could probably gulp down.

Prince.of.Planet.Doom: Now get on the bed and face away from the machine. Make sure the cuffs are where you want them.

Lance squeals in excitement as he takes the pair of cuffs Prince surprised him with and loops it over the support beam above his bed.

“Yes! Let’s do this!”

He kneels with his back to the machine and penetrates himself with just the tip of the dildo. Then he uses the controller to start it moving slowly and vibrating slightly. He secures one hand to the support beam, and just that small vulnerability makes the air catch in his throat. At Prince Lotor’s command, he gradually turns the knobs on the controller. When it’s as much as he can handle, he secures his other hand to the beam and lets the machine do the work.

It pounds into his prostate when he arches his back just right; he feels like he can’t take another second of this, but he can’t force himself to stop. His dick stands against his stomach, leaving a trail of precum on his hairless belly. He can’t control the moans that fill the room. He imagines someone behind him, shoving their cock into his fragile frame. Lance is putty, but the restraints on his wrists keep him in the proper position.

When he cums again, he cries. It’s not just tears in the corners of his eyes this time; he sobs. He feels like he’s transcended. The most explosive orgasm, possibly of his life, makes his whole body tingle. Only the machine is still going. It’s pumping Lance up to cum again, but he already feels so high. How can this feeling continue?

Lance panics. He can’t take it. He’s already drenched in sweat but somehow getting hotter. He pulls against the cuffs, but Prince tells him to stay exactly where he is until he says. Lance screams only a few minutes later with another orgasm. His whole body is shaking now, but Lotor still doesn’t tell him to get down.

“I can’t do it!” Lance cries. “I can’t do it!”

Prince.of.Planet.Doom: It’s okay. Let yourself down.
Prince.of.Planet.Doom: Be careful.

Lance frees himself of the bindings and turns the knobs on the controller, but he screams again.

“Ahh! The wrong way!”

He slides off the machine and turns it off before faceplanting into his sheets to cry and bask in the waves of afterglow. The bed envelopes him like the ocean takes a small boat beneath her surface. He travels along the ocean floor and sees the most beautiful colors of fish and coral reefs. He befriends the ocean, and she allows him to return home. She guides him across her surface to a harbor, where his wooden face knocks gently against the dock. He doesn’t want to leave the ocean, but she nudges him harder.

“Lance,” she says. “Lance!”

Her voice is harsh; it’s urgent.

“LANCE!”

She pushes him so hard that he crashes into the harbor and splinters.

“LANCE! YOU BETTER NOT BE STILL FUCKING SLEEPING!” Marco shouts as he forces open the door.

Chapter Text

Lance and Marco stare at each other, unblinking, unbreathing. Lance is aware of too much at once: Marco sees Lance naked, the garters with the kitty faces, the fucking machine, the fucking machine’s dirty attachment, the webcam; the webcam is still on; Lance is still live; a few viewers remain and send “good morning” comments and donations.

“What-“

“Get out,” Lance hisses. Then he yells, “Get out!”

Marco grunts in disgust and slams the door closed.

Lance is too panicked to react. He turns off his camera and shoves it under his desk with his laptop. Then he tears off his tights and garters and picks up the nasty, slimy thong from the floor and throws them in the toy box, hastily closing and locking it. He throws his used single-use sheets over the fucking machine, dresses in the first clothes he grabs, and runs downstairs.

His mamá looks him up and down with disapproving eyes over a fresh cup of tea. Her face contorts from confusion to anger to mild annoyance.

“Did Marco really leave without you?” she asks accusingly.

“I-“ Did Marco not say anything to her? “I’m walking today.”

“You’re going to be late,” she mutters, shaking her head as she walks away. She says something about pajamas at school and kids these days, but Lance doesn’t quite catch it.

He fumbles for the door, feeling like he’s escaping a distracted beast, and stumbles out. His legs shake with every step, and pain shoots through his lower back. He always showers with warm water after a show to prevent soreness, but he fell asleep last night! How could he be so careless? His life is over. How could he let Marco see him? Of all the people who could have walked in, Marco is by far the worst!

Lance is so distracted that he walks to where he usually meets up with his friends before he finally makes it to his first hour.

“Lance,” Mr. Northman says, begrudgingly pausing his lecture. “When you are forty minutes late to my class, you come in quickly and quietly, give me your pass, and sit down. Well?”

Lance realizes he doesn’t have his backpack or phone, let alone a tardy slip. “I- I’ll go get one.”

As he turns around, the other kids comment on his disheveled appearance.

“Damn, Lance looks like shit.”

“I’ve never seen his hair so greasy.”

“Is he wearing leggings?”

“He looks like he’s going to throw up.”

Their words follow him down the hall, blocking out the light from behind him, from his peripheral vision, wrapping around him like tendrils until they envelop him, and he succumbs to darkness.

When he sees again, he is sitting on the floor, propped against the wall, drinking water from a red Hydroflask.

Keith is kneeling next to him, checking his forehead and stuff.

“I have no idea how to tell if you’re okay or not,” Keith worries. “Should I get the nurse or something? Do you want me to call your mom?”

Lance finishes the water and shakes his head.

“No! God no, it’s fine. I just, uh… woke up late, y’know? I didn’t have time to eat or anything, heh. I’m fine.” He convinces Keith to let him go back to class, but for the rest of the day, Lance can’t stop thinking about what might be happening at home. He can’t remember whether his parents work today and who will be home, but he prays that no one venture to his attic bedroom. And maybe Marco won’t tell anybody what he saw? Not for Lance’s sake, of course, but for his reputation. He didn’t tell Mamá anything this morning after all. Lance worries Marco will treat him differently, but how much worse can he get?

Lance convinces himself that everything will be okay (with some help from Hunk, who gives him extra food after hearing that Lance fainted). He even waits outside the west exit for Marco and Rachel after school, like usual. Marco doesn’t acknowledge Lance, but that’s not so strange. When Lance tries to follow them to the car, however, Marco turns around and pushes Lance as hard as he can into the brick wall.

“Stay the fuck away from me,” he spits. “Fucking faggot!”

Everyone around them is staring, having sensed a potential fight.

Lance doesn’t know what to do. Why does he feel so hurt by his brother’s rejection of him?

“But,” he tries, standing up, “Keith already left! I need a ride.”

Marco ignores him, and Rachel hesitates for only a second before she gets in the car too.

Lance knows they’ll get home before him, but he runs for as long as he can anyway because he doesn’t want them to have ample time to root through his stuff. He’s in good shape, but he’s still exhausted from cumming three times last night, so his pace is slower than he wants it to be.

He is in desperate need of a shower when he finally arrives home, but he forgets about his stench when he sees his mom’s car in the driveway. When he goes inside, Rachel is on the couch, staring intently at her phone and making the defensive face she does when she gets in trouble.

“Mom wants you to talk to her on the back porch,” she says through gritted teeth.

“O-okay,” Lance squeaks. “I will in a sec.”

“Mom screamed at me and Rachel because of you,” Marco seethes from the stairs. “You better go and talk to her before I take care of your gay ass myself!”

Lance flinches but tries to hide it. He’s not gay, but he always feels like he’s caught doing evil anytime he hears the word. He steels himself on the way outside.

Mamá sits by the unlit metal fire pit with her back to him.

He stays by the door, hoping to convey an air of nonchalance. “You, uh, did you need something, Mom?”

She wipes her eyes and folds her hands in her lap. “Sit down,” she commands. Her voice is stern yet weak from crying.

“Is something wrong?” he asks, edging closer. “Um, if Marco said something, y’know, he’s always a dick, so-”

“Lance Charles McClain, sit your ass down and shut up.”

Lance gulps and sits.

Mamá turns to face him, but she keeps her eyes down. “How long have you known?” she prompts.

“About what?”

“Why didn’t you tell anyone- Why didn’t you tell me about your sickness?”

Lance feels the color drain from his face. “I- I’m not sick,” he stammers. “What are you-”

“You fainted today, Lance. Keith sent me a text! You fainted! Don’t try and tell me you’re not sick!” She furiously strikes a match and throws it into the pit, which catches fire quickly and emits a strange smell.

Lance looks down in horror to see his entire lingerie collection fueling the flames, the cheap and expensive materials alike burning to nothing. Without thinking, he tries to salvage something of the four-figure fodder, plunging his hands into the fire. He jerks his hands away first because they’re already blistering, and second because his mother shoves him backward.

“What the hell is wrong with you?!” she shrieks. “Are you so far gone that you’d die to save those disgusting-”

“You can’t just burn my stuff!”

Anger lines her face and rage burns in her eyes. “You mean my stuff? Do you think I wanted to burn that antique chest that’s been in my family for generations? The last thing my mother gave to me before she died! All because you defiled it with that- with those-”

Lance stops breathing when he realizes she’s talking about the toy box. “What happened to the inside?”

Mamá throws up her hands. “I threw it all away, of course! I can’t believe I let you have your own room. Oh, Lance,” she softens slightly. Her shoulders slump. “You’re sick. I know it’s not your fault but… Believe me, baby, I hate your sickness, not you, but-”

“I’m not sick,” he repeats. “I can’t believe you- My stuff! I’m almost an adult, Mamá. You need to respect my privacy!”

“But I can’t trust you! I gave you privacy; I gave you your own room. And you- you had those things! They were just near you all of the time, poisoning your thoughts! Your air!” She takes a breath. “And then you were poisoning everything- everyone around you! Marco was right. Marco was right about you.”

Lance stands. “No, Mamá! You’ve got it all wrong! I-"

”And I let you have sleepovers with your niece and nephew while those lacey ropes were in your drawers and those plastic severed dicks were only feet- inches?!- away from my sweet nietitos. How could you-!” She gasps sharply. “Lance! You didn’t- You didn’t touch them did-?!”

“No! Mamá, no!” Lance yells. “I would never do something like-”

“THEN WHY DO YOU HAVE THEM?!” she barks. “WHAT COULD YOU POSSIBLY-”

“THEY’RE FOR ME!” Lance shouts. “I-I use them on me!”

“Wh-”

“I like how I look in frilly underwear! And I like the feeling of...things inside of me….” Lance lowers his head in embarrassment. This is not at all how he imagined his coming out would go.

Lance’s mother gags, and her lips quiver. She stumbles back into the chair, her face and body contorted in disgust. Then she begins to sob. From her cries, Lance perceives grief, revulsion, and hatred— all directed at him.

“Mamá,” he wilts. “I- There’s nothing wrong with me. I’m just-”

She’s on him in an instant, pulling down his pants and tugging at his underwear.

Lance screams first out of surprise, then fear. “What are you-”

She tugs harder, and his thong snaps.

Lance screams again, seeing white spots from the pain in his crotch. He wallows helplessly on the ground while his mother hastily flings his panties into the fire with the rest.

“Get out of here,” she cries.

Before Lance can gather himself to respond, the back door opens.

“What the hell is going on here?” Papá demands. “I could hear him screaming before I even got out of the car.”

Lance tries to wipe his eyes with his shoulder— his dad has beaten him before for crying— but he still can’t think of what to say.

“Your son thinks he’s a girl!” Mamá laments. “Look at what was in his room! And- and there was more! I got it all out, but he-”

She breaks down again— this time in the arms of her husband. Papá’s face is unreadable as he stares into the flames.

“Lance,” he says coldly, “go to your room.”

Lance winces as he makes himself stand and pull up his pants. “Papá, I-”

“Get out of my sight.”

Lance half runs to the door, failing to keep his breathing under control. He feels sick when he realizes that Marco and Rachel probably just heard everything. He doesn’t want them to see him like this, but he can’t quell his oncoming panic attack. When he gets to his room, he begins to shake.

His dresser drawers stand open, all of them sacked, and the toy box is gone, leaving a cold empty space in the room. Not only that, but the fucking machine, his computer, his camera, the single-use sheets, his lubricants and toy cleaners, his cosmetics and toiletries— everything is gone.

He hyperventilates on the floor hoping to pass out soon so he doesn’t have to think anymore.

Strangely, he wishes his parents found out about his live streams because then he would understand their rage. Instead, without knowing anything besides the fact that he masturbates with toys, they act like he has done something horrible. God, he knew they were homophobic, but he always thought they would change their minds for one of their own children.

Do they even see him as one of theirs anymore? Or does their hate of whatever they think he is outweigh their love of him?

Lance is having enough trouble breathing before Marco comes in and straddles him on the floor.

“Shut the hell up!” Marco screams. He punches Lance over and over again, harder and harder, causing the younger to cry out louder and louder. “Nobody cares about a disgusting piece of shit like you!”

Lance can’t defend himself against Marco when he has his mind, let alone now when he can’t even form the words to tell his brother to stop.

Lance struggles as much as he can as Marco drags him onto the bed. He screams for help, but no one comes. Marco socks him in the jaw to shut his mouth and forces duct tape over his lips to keep it shut.

Lance scratches at the tape, but Marco pins Lance’s blistered hands against the headboard and tapes those down too. Desperately, Lance writhes and thrashes. He manages to land a kick on Marco, but it does nothing to hinder his brother from beating him down until Lance can’t move at all.

Marco then gets up and grabs Lance’s ankles and stretches him across the bed, taping his feet to the footboard.

Lance whimpers helplessly as Marco— now eerily calm— reinforces the duct tape so that even a third party would have a hard time getting it off.

“You did this to yourself,” Marco says darkly, covering Lance with a blanket and shutting the door.

Chapter Text

Lance focuses on breathing. It’s difficult since his chest hurts every time he inhales, but what’s worse is that he can only breathe through his nose, and the snot from crying threatens to suffocate him. He tries to calm down. Surely, Marco will let him go soon.

Lance is beyond uncomfortable. He’s in so much pain, physical and emotional; it’s too hot under the blanket that he can’t shift off of himself; he’s hungry and thirsty; he has to go to the bathroom; his body odor is putrid and leaves a stale, rotten taste in his sealed mouth.

He falls asleep a few times, dreaming of burning with his underwear and sex toys while everyone in his family stares down with varying shades of anger and disappointment.

With the blanket over his head, Lance can’t tell whether it’s night or day, but he is sure he missed dinner. How long has he been here? He feels sick. He wants his mamá to bring him food and comfort as she did when he was a bedridden child. He aches for her momentarily before his mind returns to his physical condition.

Maybe it’s a few hours, maybe it’s a few minutes before Lance pees himself. The liquid seeps quickly through his pants and onto the bed, making him feel even warmer and smell even worse. He cries tears of embarrassment and tries futilely to shift his body out of the puddle.

After a few more hours (he assumes it’s been a while), he finally hears someone coming up to the attic.

“Lance, baby?” his mother calls tentatively, pushing into the room.

Alarmed and excited, Lance tries to cry for help, but with the tape over his mouth, he sounds like a deranged and wounded creature. He probably looks like one too at this point, under the blanket.

Mamá grunts, repulsed. “Fine then,” she spits. “I’ll wait until you’re done throwing a fucking tantrum.” She slams the door but opens it slightly to add, “You can rot in this stench if you want to keep acting like that.”

Lance can barely process his missed opportunity to escape. He panics, opting to scream and thrash as loud and hard as he can. He’s desperate. Surely she doesn’t mean to let him literally rot, but he can’t stand this anymore. He screams at the top of his lungs for her— for anybody— to save him.

His hope wanes with his voice, eventually giving out completely. Lance lays his head back in defeat and cries himself again to sleep.

The discomfort of his stiff position, the swelling bruises left by Marco, the fresh scent of urine that comes when he pees himself again, a throat sored by dehydration and overuse, gnawing hunger that twists his stomach so much that he feels like he’s going to vomit. How much longer does he have to endure this? Days? Weeks?

There’s eventually another knock at the door, but Lance’s head hurts too much for him to acknowledge it.

“I’m coming in- Holy fuck! It smells like shit!” Veronica exclaims. “Did you die up here?!” When Lance doesn’t stir, she comes closer, poking warily at the sheets. “Lance?”

Lance can’t do anything but emit a pitiful wheeze as air struggles through his scratched throat.

“I’m moving this blanket,” Veronica says. “Stop me if you’re naked or something.”

As soon as she sees her little brother taped to the bed, fury and horror light her eyes. She rips the tape off his mouth but struggles with the tape on his wrists and ankles.

“Hold on. I’ll be back with scissors.”

Lance blinks at his empty room as he adjusts to the light. Then his eyes fix on the half-full water bottle by his bed. It’s so close, and he stares at it longingly until Veronica comes back to free his limbs. The first thing he does is down the bottle when he can use his arms again, but it’s not enough. He tries to get up for more water, but his legs give out after only a few steps, and he falls.

Veronica goes to him on the floor.

“What happened, Lance?! How long have you been up here?”

Lance tries to answer, “Since Friday,” but a hissing sound comes out where his voice should be.

Veronica seems to understand him, however, because she blanches.

“Oh, god. It’s Sunday. L-let’s start by getting you through the shower. Here.” She crouches so Lance can climb onto her back, and carefully, she carries him to the bathroom on the second floor. “I’ll get you some more water to drink. And clothes. Do you need help in the bath?”

Lance shakes his head. Once she’s gone, he peels off his pee soaked clothes and crawls into the shower. His shoulders hurt like hell, but it feels good to sit under the water and let the warm drops relax his tense joints and muscles. He lets himself cry again, some tears of relief but mostly fear. How is he supposed to move forward from this? He is used to Marco beating him beyond reason, but Mamá always used to step in before it got out of hand. Lance keeps trying to tell himself that Mamá didn’t know what Marco was doing, except that even the neighbors could probably hear him scream. He can’t help but wonder… Was she so disgusted with him that she left him to Marco on purpose?

Lance’s stomach churns with guilt, but thankfully, Veronica knocks on the door with the promised items and distracts him from his thoughts.

After finishing scrubbing the sweat and piss from his body (at least he still has his scented soaps), he feels refreshed yet fatigued. He switches to cold water to wake himself up and pop the burn blisters on his hands.

Veronica comes in when he is dressed (in what was left of Lance’s wardrobe after Mamá’s purge), and she scolds him for touching the blisters at all. She goes on talking as she cleans and wraps his hands, but Lance is more concerned with his reflection; more specifically, the huge bruise on the bottom side of his face. Most of the bruises on his body are covered by his clothes— and the bandages make him look like an action anime protagonist— but even if Lance still had his makeup, there is no way he could hide the lump that distorts his beautiful face.

He can’t go in public like this!

Veronica seems to notice his panic, and she steers him away from the mirror and down the stairs, telling him that they’ll leave soon.

Lance drinks more water while he waits, worried that Marco is going to bust in at any moment and drag Lance right back upstairs. The sound of his sister spitting angrily in rapid-fire Spanish the next room over, however, takes his attention. He doesn’t understand what they’re saying (Only Luis and Veronica were raised bilingual), though he can catch a few words and phrases like water and three days.

Mamá is crying, clearly floundering for a response, an excuse. He sympathizes with her before he remembers that the last time he was like this, he was at her mercy. A tiny little vindictive voice in his head tells him that she deserves this. Lance even considers joining his sister, but these thoughts only make him feel worse.

“Mamá, what would you do if he died?” Veronica asks, switching to English in a moment of vulnerability. “This isn’t-”

They stop suddenly when Lance opens the door. He can’t look Mamá in the face right now, but he knows deep down that she’s just hurt and confused and that she needs time.

“Let’s just go,” he whispers to Veronica, tugging at her sleeve. “It’s not her fault.”

Veronica softens toward Lance, but she is still clearly upset.

“How is it not her fault?” she nearly scoffs. “Even if she got Dad to do the dirty work-”

“No!” Lance fails to shout. He tightens his grip on his sister before revealing, “It was Marco.”

Veronica and Mamá both seem surprised by this for some reason, and they hesitate to react. Mamá puts her hands over her face and starts sobbing again, kneeling on the floor for stability. Lance wants to comfort her; he wants to scream at her too. Instead, he clenches his fists and marches through the house, straight to Veronica’s car.

Ronni joins him in the front seat a few minutes later.

Lance braces for her questions about what happened on Friday, but she only asks where he wants to eat. Her tone says that he’ll have to explain everything to her soon, but Lance is glad for the delay. After a late lunch (Holy shit, Lance was trying to ignore his hunger, but the second he had food in front of him, it was gone.), they go to Veronica’s apartment. It’s a good size for two students living on the Galaxy Garrison campus, and Lance wonders briefly why she doesn’t have more than one roommate to share the cost.

“You can stay here for as long as you need to,” Veronica says, leading Lance to her room. “I’ll crash with Acxa in the other room.” She makes a face. “Unless you want me to sleep with you?”

Veronica used to let Lance crawl in bed with her when he had nightmares or if Marco wouldn’t leave him alone at night, but back then, Lance was always undeniably the victim. Now, though? Would Veronica still protect him if she knew what he does? What he is? He always assumed she would be accepting, but he thought the same about Mamá until he was so painfully proven wrong.

“Who the fuck is this?” asks a scowling woman from the doorway, her sapphire hair pulled back in a ponytail. “What happened to ‘No boys in the apartment,’ McClain?”

Lance panics because the stranger knows his name before he remembers that his sister is also called “McClain”.

“This is my little brother, Acxa!” Veronica says brightly. “Come meet him! Well, maybe meet him later. I told him he could stay-”

“Why?” Acxa’s eyes bore into Lance, and he gets the idea that she one-hundred percent does not want him here.

“He needs help right now,” Veronica explains. “You know... trouble at home.”

Acxa’s face changes like she does know, especially when her eyes find the bruise on his jaw. “Fine,” she grunts, walking away.

Veronica sighs with a smile. “She puts up a tough front, but she’ll do you no harm.”

Lance nods. Then he swallows. Trouble at home? The phrase doesn’t sit well with him. Is he a “troubled kid” now? He doesn’t want people to pity him, but-

“Hey,” she says.

Lance looks up.

Veronica scans his features, assessing his state, and takes on a more serious tone. “You need to tell me what happened.”

She hands him a pencil and pad of paper, and Lance’s gut clenches with his decision to be vulnerable. He is going to reveal his sexuality to her. If she rejects him as Mamá did? Well, then Lance will accept it. He’ll believe that he’s sick, and he will do what he can to get better.

He starts his explanation in shaky handwriting with Marco walking in on him with “a toy”. He details everything that happened after that: Marco refusing to drive him home from school, Mamá burning all of his stuff, everything Mamá said to him, everything she did to him. He tries not to be biased in his description, but there aren’t many ways to convey “She tore off my underwear and threw it into the fire”. Then he writes about how Papá wouldn’t look at him; how Marco cornered him, beat him, and taped him down; how Mamá was the only one who came to him when he was trapped, and how she immediately left him “to rot”.

Lance adds, “And you know the rest :),” in an attempt to somehow soften the blow, then he drops the pad on his sister’s lap and promptly leaves to go to the bathroom. He genuinely has to pee, but mostly he wants to avoid whatever is in store for him. In fact, he stays in the bathroom until Acxa knocks on the door, and he awkwardly returns to Ronni’s room.

Lance comes warily around the corner, and Veronica greets him teary-eyed and open-armed. Those eyes of pity. So he is wrong. He proceeds slowly into her embrace. At least he knows that she won’t hurt him. She’ll help him get better.

“I’m so sorry you had to go through that, Lance,” she cries into his shoulder. “But it’s going to be okay. You’re okay.” She squeezes him. “But…”

Here it comes.

“You didn’t actually say….” She pulls out of the hug to make eye contact. “Are you gay?”

Before he can say no, Veronica holds up a hand to stop him.

“I want to tell you something first.” She grabs his hands. “Luis is the only one in our family who knows, but I want you to know too…. Um, Acxa is more than my roommate. She is my girlfriend. And not just like she’s my friend that’s a girl. Like, we’re in a relationship. I’m bisexual.”

Lance stares. His breath hitches. Relief. Validity. Belonging. Acceptance. Everything floods out of him in this week’s millionth torrent of tears.

Veronica wraps her arms around her baby brother again as he tries to make word sounds with his sore throat.

“Me too,” he tries to say. “I’ve never said it out loud. I- I was so scared that you wouldn’t-”

She shushes and rocks him gently.

“It’s okay, baby,” she murmurs. “I know. Everything is going to be okay.”

“I’m bi,” he cries.

“I know.” Veronica squeezes him so tightly that it hurts (albeit his whole body hurts whether someone is touching it or not). “I’m so proud of you, Lance.”

They hug and cry for almost an hour, and Lance lets it all out. He feels so good afterward. He is so happy. He forgets about his other problems. All of his stuff is gone, his family seems to hate him, his business is at stake, but Veronica is staying by his side, and that gives him hope.

Chapter Text

Lance wakes up alone Monday morning. He finds a note on the bedside table explaining that Veronica went to class, and she’ll be back soon. He is welcome to any food in the kitchen, and he can use any of Veronica’s products in the bathroom. There is also a printout for how to take care of his burns.

Lance heads to the bathroom to shower and change his bandages, and he manages to find enough products to go through his normal skin routine, but he struggles to decide what to do with the bruise on his face.

Veronica’s skin tone is slightly cooler than Lance’s, so if he tried to cover it up with foundation, there would still be a discolored patch on his skin. Not to mention, the bump is still making his jaw look weird. He opens a contour palette. Can he mask it with highlights and lowlights?

“Hey.”

Lance nearly jumps out of his skin at the sound of a voice. He hurriedly tries to hide the makeup from Acxa before he remembers that he’s safe here. He tries to make the move seem natural by leaning back on the bathroom counter and nodding his head at her.

“‘Sup,” he wheezes.

“Um, here,” Acxa says, holding out two small sacks. “Heat will increase circulation for healing. Then cold will reduce inflammation.” She drops them on the counter. “Also, yellow concealer works best when they’re purple and blue like that.”

She leaves just as quickly as she came, and Lance utters a scratchy, “Thanks,” to her back. With Acxa’s advice, he manages to hide the bruise well enough that someone wouldn’t notice it if they weren’t looking for it, and by then, Veronica is back.

“Lookin’ good,” she smiles when she notices his work. “Are you going to wear makeup when you go back to school?”

He nods.

“I’ll let you choose when you’re okay for school— you should at least rest a little bit— but we should get your stuff from the house today because Mom and Dad both work. Do you want to go right now?”

Lance notes the time; Marco should be at school now, but the thought of going back still makes him anxious.

“Will you go in with me?” Lance asks, his voice cutting in and out despite his efforts to keep it even.

Of course, she agrees, and they head off.

When they get in the house, Lance doesn’t find his phone or laptop, but he is grounded, so he probably shouldn't take them anyway. He needs to check his email, though, and update his viewers. It’s only been a few days since they last heard from him, but he doesn’t want to lose any fans to his involuntary hiatus… Maybe he should try to access his page at a library or something. But if he is going to be gone for a while, he should at least give them a video explanation, and no way in Hell is he going to even attempt filming in public. Maybe he could film at Veronica’s house if she wasn’t there.

“Lance?” Veronica pokes. “What are you looking for?”

Right, one thing at a time.

“My backpack,” he says, turning and realizing that she is already holding his bag. “A-and wallet.”

His wallet is in the bag.

“Okay, let’s go then,” he hurries past her.

After resting for most of Monday, Lance decides to go back to school Tuesday morning. He feels bad about being gone without a word, but his friends just are glad to see that he is okay.

--

“I brought you lunch yesterday,” Hunk explains at their table in the library, “but you weren’t here, and then Keith said that your mom said that you were sick, and you weren’t answering your phone, so I didn’t know how sick you were or when you’d be back, so I didn’t bring you anything today. I’m sorry, buddy, But, actually! I’ll give you mine since-”

“It’s okay,” Lance croaks with a smile. “I brought my lunch for once. And sorry I didn’t answer. I’m grounded from my phone and stuff.”

They all seem taken aback by the state of his voice, low and scratchy instead of high and smooth. It’s getting better, but his current speech has the quality of an AM radio station.

“Also, not sick,” he adds wryly.

Pidge scoffs in disbelief. “If you weren’t sick, then why did you miss test prep and our study session?” There is a slight bitterness to her tone that tells Lance that she missed him; she probably waited for him, but, of course, he never came.

“Sorry. I was tied up at home,” he apologizes. Then he laughs mirthlessly at his expense as he realizes what he said. Then he swallows uncomfortably at the thought of revealing to his friends everything that transpired over the last few days.

“Are you okay though?” Keith asks. “Your mom was texting me, like, all weekend, and she was asking me a bunch of really weird questions and stuff. She made it seem like something was really really wrong.”

Lance only shrugs. “We got into a bad fight. It’s- I’m trying not to think about it. It’s fine.” He forces a smile. “I’m actually way more concerned about my followers! On social media! Can I use one of your phones to check my notifications?”

Keith offers his phone, and Lance spends the rest of lunch reading through the comments from his fucking machine live stream. They ease the turmoil of his thoughts, their attention and affection bringing a genuine smile to his face. His followers thought it was absolutely adorable that he fell asleep after cumming for a third time, and they wished he would archive the video so they could lay with him every night. Kinda creepy but kinda sweet too.

Lance hopes they won’t be too upset by his further absence.

By the end of the week, with Ronni as the middleman for his and Mamá’s arguments, it’s clear that Lance isn’t getting his laptop and webcam back anytime soon (although Veronica is successful in winning him back his phone rights). He wallows in self-pity, desperate to stream. He was starting to make really good money, but that won’t continue if he can’t produce content. He considers buying new gear, but he doesn’t want to wait for shipping. (Plus, it would be kinda shitty if he went behind his Mamá’s back like that. He already feels guilty for refusing to go back home.)

Maybe he could use someone else’s streaming equipment? But then what? Is whoever lets him use the stuff supposed to just sit there while Lance gets himself off for the camera?

Wait a tick. That gives him an idea.

“Keith,” Lance croons after school that Friday as they walk to Keith’s bike. He’s thankful that his voice is recovered enough that he can whine properly. “Can I come over this weekend?”

“To my...home?”

“Yeah.”

“No.” Keith frowns. “It’s not that I don’t want you to. It’s just that it’s not exactly my place? I- I could go to your house, though, if you um… Is there a reason?”

Lance turns and puts his hands together like he’s praying. “Please let me borrow your filming stuff!”

“What?”

“I know you made Minecraft videos in middle school, Keith! I know the filming stuff is yours too because you made a whole vlog about your equipment. Plus, your cam quality was, like, perfect! I could see every detail of your stupid mullet when you-”

“H-how do you know about that?!” Keith exclaims, hiding his hair behind his hands like he’s been exposed. “I took all of those videos down. How did you find them?!”

“You took them down?!” Lance gasps. “Noooo. I loved your channel! I was obsessed with you in the seventh grade!”

Keith’s blush is redder than his motorcycle. “Oh, my god. So, what are you saying? Are you Lover Boy?”

Lance feels the blood from his face drain to weigh down his stomach. “What?!” he screeches.

“Maybe not then.” Keith scrunches his eyebrows together as he thinks. “I’m pretty sure that was the account name, though. There were only like three people who ever liked or commented, but this one person always did.”

Lance laughs, nervously at first and then harder and harder until tears wet the crinkles of his eyes. “Lover Boy. No, yeah, that was me,” he remembers. His public social media pages all have different variations of his first initial and last name now, but his old accounts were almost all called Lover Boy. Maybe it’s irresponsible to make his secret porn name the same as his Webkinz user, but it was too fitting to pass up. “I can’t believe you remember me!”

Keith glances skeptically to the side. “Did we… Did you find me?” he asks. “Like, there’s no way you just happened to watch my middle school vlogs and then randomly meet me in high school.”

Lance stops. “Keith… I’ve known you since sixth grade.”

Keith stops too, turning with wide eyes. “We- We didn’t meet last year?”

Lance narrows his eyes, unimpressed, until he recalls his infamous glow up after freshman year. Maybe it’s better that Keith doesn’t remember awkward, lanky, peanut-head Lance.

“Just get on the bike, Mullet.”

--

Lance peers over the couch again to make sure that Keith is actually asleep this time. They were watching movies together in Veronica’s living room, and Lance was hoping to sneak away after a couple of hours, but Keith has more stamina than Lance anticipated, so he ended up having to wait until two in the morning.

Veronica and Acxa are out on their Saturday-night-dinner-and-dancing date, and before she left, Ronni made it clear that they wouldn’t be coming back until Sunday afternoon. (“So you and your little friend can have the apartment to yourselves,” she winked.)

Lance goes back to the room he has been staying in and updates his page on Keith’s laptop.

Announcements:
LoverBoy<3 : “IMPORTANT! I’m going live in one hour! Trying something new… ”
March 22 @ 2:07 am CST

Announcements:
LoverBoy<3 : “It’s more of an informational video than content, though, so no suggestions this time :( ”
March 22 @ 2:08 am CST

Lance showers and puts on the crop top, cheeky “boy shorts”, and knee socks that he bought at Target when Veronica was in the produce section earlier this week. He considers applying makeup to the bruises on his body but decides that if he is going to sell this, he needs to go all in.

He stuffs a blanket under the door to the guest room hoping that he won’t be heard, takes a deep breath, and sits on the edge of his/Veronica’s/the guest bed to stream.

“Hey, guys!” Lance beams quietly. “Sorry I haven’t been live this week. I missed you all so much! But the reason… Well, I’m in a different location, obviously, because, you see...” He traces his bruises with delicate fingers. “I got myself into a little bit of trouble.”

Even though he disabled suggestions and donations, sympathetic comments fill the screen. It’s not as much as usual, but Lance expected that.

diaosawr:" aww, poor baby"

CheapCreep:" Fuck, Sombady realey fucked you up, huh?"

Space_Daddy:" Are you safe now?"

“I’m okay now,” he grins, “but I was actually hoping that you could get me into more trouble. I had this idea: Since I can’t do shows at my place… what if I filmed at yours? I won’t be able to do a whole lot of streams in the coming months, so I was hoping that you’d like to see me get fucked by someone else. Someone like you,” he purrs.

Lance wasn’t planning on trying to cum for this stream, but with his excitement and nerves, he is already half hard. He gropes himself casually as he continues.

“In a few days, I’m going to start an auction, but instead of merch, you’ll get me! Haha! Highest bidder gets my virginity.”

The comments explode.

josh6975:" Your perfect"

big00mickey: "my wife: Honey what happened to our savings?
Me: hahahaha, nothing ;)"

Space_Daddy: "..."

KRAZYKID1986: "youre fucking fucked"

80085: "I am going to ruin your fuck hole!"

Lance blushes hard as if he is talking in person to the one who is going to fuck him. He giggles and falls back against the mattress so that the underwear failing to contain his hardening cock is on display.

“God,” he moans. “I hope you make me cry.”

Lance kicks off his boy shorts and spreads his legs. He doesn’t often jerk himself off by simply chasing pleasure, especially not during a show, but right now, Lance thinks he deserves it. He lets himself do whatever he wants to himself until he cums.

He licks the semen from his hand with kitten-like flicks of his tongue and swallows to clean up the mess.

“I hope we see each other very soon,” he croons, writhing in the subtle afterglow of his orgasm. “Thank you for listening today. Until then, this is Lover Boy, signing off!”

Chapter Text

Keith doesn’t seem to note anything the next morning other than the fact that Lance took a shower at some point in the night.

Lance’s pleasure fantasies go wild imagining how Keith would react to seeing Lance in his knee socks and crop top. He would probably blush like did when he discovered Lance’s sex toy collection. Red and tongue-tied. Embarrassed but impressed.

But even a flustered Keith doesn’t measure up to the other crazy scenarios in Lance’s head about his next stream. He doesn’t have to be too creative or think too hard either because his email inbox is chock-full of people describing exactly what they intend to do to him. Most of them are like, “I will put my penis into your asshole :0 ;)”, but a few are like, “I’m going to take you downstairs, tie you up, fuck you until you pass out, and never let you go ;)”.

Lance is black-listing scary users from the auction.

Although he planned to do this later in the week, he gets too anxious and starts the bidding that Sunday afternoon at $300 after Keith leaves. He feels bad about the price at first— like his services can’t possibly be worth that much— but people give $500 for mere suggestions sometimes. Surely it’s okay for him to value his virginity more than that.

He feels less bad as soon as people start bidding. By the end of the first hour, the price is up to $1200. Lance tries not to obsess over his phone as he gets an email notification every time there is a new bid. As desperate as he is to read every comment, to note every bid, he makes himself put the phone away for the remainder of the auction.

Besides, more immediate matters need his attention.

“Lance.” Veronica knocks on the door frame. “Mami is here… Do you… Will you see her?”

Lance bites back a stressed scream. “Yeah, of course.”

Mamá is waiting in the kitchenette wearing church clothes. She stares at the counter blankly and fiddles with her bracelet. When she sees Lance, she rises to meet him, but then she thinks better of it and sits back down.

Lance hesitates. What is he supposed to say? He stands just out of her reach.

“I’ll give you two some space,” Veronica says, “but I’ll come back if you need me.” She squeezes Lance’s shoulder and then leaves him with their mother.

“Lancito,” Mamá starts, her voice already wrought with emotion. Lance braces himself for manipulation, for his mother to guilt him for causing her pain, for making her hurt him; he is expecting her to make him come home. Instead, she takes a centering breath and says, “I am sorry, mijo. I can think of a million reasons to explain my actions, but not one reason that justifies them. I’m so sorry.”

Lance shifts uncomfortably, unsure of how to respond.

“I talked to Father Guevera today, and he told me that I should hear you out. You… I want to understand you, Lance. I don’t understand at all how you could- But even worse is how I- I hurt you. I’m sorry. I never wanted to hurt you. I… Can you forgive me?”

Lance sighs, shoulders sagging. “I don’t know.” He feels like such a jerk for saying so, but he doesn’t want to lie to her about his feelings. “You really scared me, Mamá. I always thought- y’know- I always thought that at least you would have my back through thick and thin, but I mean, you ripped my underwear off of my body. How can I just,” he gestures helplessly, “let that go?”

Mamá holds her hands to her chest and tucks her chin defensively. “Why were you wearing girl’s underwear?” she asks quietly.

She seems genuine in her concern, but that only makes Lance feel worse.

“I already told you,” he says. “I like the way it looks. Does there have to be another reason to wear something? I like it. And- and there’s nothing wrong with it.” He feels the color rising in his face, but he does his best not to crumble in on himself just to make his mom feel better.

Mamá’s face twitches in disgust. “But you’re a boy.” She can’t seem to make herself look at her son as she speaks to him. “Do you wear them often? Daily?”

“Mom…” Lance winces. “That’s really none of your business.”

Mamá looks up like she never thought about it like that. Lance notices her jaw clench and unclench as she considers two opposing ideas. “You can think for yourself, you know. You don’t have to accept everything Veronica tells you. You know you’re doing something wrong.”

Lance flushes several shades darker, embarrassment quickly ceding to anger. “I can think for myself, but only if I agree with you. Is that it?” He scoffs like he can’t believe how quickly she switched from trying to understand him to invalidating what he has to say. “I thought you came here to listen! To understand? Now you’re telling me that I’m wrong? I’m wrong. You say it’s what I’m doing, but you don’t know what I’m doing! You don’t know anything. I-” He scrunches his face to try to keep his angry tears from falling. “I thought you wanted to understand me.”

Mamá blinks back tears of her own at his outburst, but she nods. “Please, mijo.”

Lance takes a deep breath. He’s not like Marco. He can control his emotions.

He sits next to her, and she takes his hand.

“Mami, I-“ his voice falters. He swallows and tries again. “I’m bi.” She doesn’t seem to understand, so he explains, “That is bisexual. It means I like boys and girls.”

Mamá traces Lance's knuckles with her thumb as a sign of affection, and her reaction ignites a flicker of hope in him.

“You do like girls then?” she asks.

“That’s what I just said, yeah. A-and boys” Maybe she can understand him.

Mamá brings Lance’s hand to her heart and holds it there. “Then, baby… Could you only like girls? I mean, only date girls? For me? For your father? For little Nadia and Sylvio?” She squeezes his hand tighter. “Please, Lance. If you could just pretend to be normal, I think- I mean, no one has to know what you’re thinking- so we could be okay.”

The young hope in Lance dies with that. He twists his hand out of her grasp and stands.

“Yeah,” he says hollowly. “I can do that.” He starts away, but his mother calls after him.

“Wait! Then, will you come home with me?”

A chill runs through Lance. “What about Marco?” he asks.

Mamá almost rolls her eyes. “He’s grounded, just like you.” She says it as if it’s obvious. Equal punishments for equal offenses.

Lance closes his eyes. He is not going to cry this time. But he has never been so upset to hear that Marco is in trouble. Just like me?

“I’m not ready to go home,” he says.

“But-!” Mamá stands. “I’ll tell him that it was a misunderstanding! Then Marco won’t bother you. He doesn’t have to know! He didn’t mean to hurt you, Lance. He was just scared.”

Lance opens his eyes, bitterness seeping through every orifice on his face. “No. I’m not ready. I need to work on my ‘act.’”

—

Despite everything going on in his life, Lance can’t stay angry when the auction ends at midnight. He stares in disbelief at the number on his phone screen, counting and recounting the zeroes to be sure of the value.

$10,000. From one person. For Lance. For his body. For his virginity.

The boy is fucking thrilled. Of course, he doesn’t want to get too attached before he decides whether or not “Space_Daddy” is a murderer, but honestly, even if the guy is a total creep, it’s ten thousand dollars.

Space_Daddy greets Lance almost immediately with an email.

To: me
From: High Silver (Space_Daddy)
Subject: I guess I buy sex on the internet now??
I was getting very alarmed by the comment section, and I didn’t want anyone to hurt you, so I panicked at the end of the auction and put in a lot of money. Sorry if you were planning for someone specific to win. I don’t mind if you go with your original plan if that’s the case. I just want you to be safe.

Lance blushes, and his heart flutters. This guy cares about him?

To: High Silver (Space_Daddy)
From: me
Re: I guess I buy sex on the internet now??
Haha, no. There was no secret plan. As long as you’re not a murderer, I’d like to work with you. This will be my next stream, so I’m hoping to do it sooner rather than later. Are you available in the next couple of weeks? (And where do you live? lol)

To: me
From: High Silver (Space_Daddy)
Re: I guess I buy sex on the internet now??
I’m local to Cielo Libre, Arizona. Did you genuinely want to film at my place, or do you want to meet somewhere closer to where you live? I can pay for you to fly somewhere too if that’s what you prefer, but my door is open to you. Also, I’m available any weekend before the last week of April.

Lance pauses. Cielo Libre? That's where Veronica lives. And then he remembers, That’s where I am right now.

Lance stops breathing as if avoiding the detection of a passerby.

Could Space_Daddy be a stalker?

But he is not ordering or pressuring Lance into doing anything. Surely a stalker wouldn’t give him so many outs. Space_Daddy seems genuinely nice. Besides, Lance wants to do this.

To: High Silver (Space_Daddy)
From: me
Re: I guess I buy sex on the internet now??
I’ll come to you. I don’t want you to know my real name and location, haha. Plus, I’m worried that a hotel or something might have shoddy internet.

They email back and forth until all of the details for the stream are sorted and Lance gets a pretty good idea of Space_Daddy’s kinks and preferences. When he finally puts down his phone, it’s 3:00 am! Even though it is already so late, Lance can’t sleep. He is so excited for the show!

He is going to have sex! With a real person!

A real person who’s nearby... What if he has seen him before?

Every stranger who Lance has ever given a second glance comes to mind.

Stop this, he scolds himself.

He needs to keep his fantasies in check: People who spend money on internet hookers are probably not very attractive themselves. It does him no good to imagine a sexy prince who will whisk him away. It’s not that Lance has a standard for physical appearances; it’s just that he wants to be prepared for reality.

Despite reason, he continues imagining silver foxes with silver tongues sweet-talking him to ecstasy. And kissing him. And touching him. And...

—

That Monday at school, the duo of a sleepless night and shamelessly horny thoughts keep Lance so distracted that he doesn’t even realize that Keith isn't speaking to him until Pidge points it out.

“What did you do this time?” she asks.

Keith’s glare snaps Lance out of his daze.

“Wait.” Lance furrows his brow as he tries to decrypt the look in Keith’s eyes. “Did I do something?”

Keith huffs and snatches his stuff off of the table. “Are you fucking serious?”

Lance shares a confused look with Hunk and Pidge.

Lance says, “What are you-”

“You forgot to sign out of your email on my phone,” Keith says through gritted teeth before stomping away.

Lance feels the earth shift under his feet, and he falls out of his chair.

“Lance?” Hunk peeks over the table. “What is that about?”

Lance scrambles after Keith without an explanation to his other friends.

“What do you mean ‘I didn’t sign out of my email’?” Lance demands. “D-did you read my emails?!”

“What the fuck do you think?” Keith clenches his fists and keeps marching until he has led Lance to an empty hallway. Then he turns around, surprising Lance with an anguished look of “How could you?” rather than “How dare you?”

Lance wraps his arms around himself. “Why did you do that?” he asks, ashamed.

Keith leans back against the wall and slides down with his hands covering his face. “I thought they were for me at first,” he explains. “I was super freaked out. They said- But then I realized they were for you, and I got even more freaked out, and then I was going to call you, but then I started getting fucking auction notifications, and the messages attached to those were so fucking disgusting that I-” Keith takes a shaky breath. “I didn’t know what to do…”

Lance crouches next to Keith, but the other isn’t finished.

“And then you started conversing with one of these fucking creeps, like ‘Hehe, hope you aren’t a murderer!’, with no fucking precautions whatsoever, even though this rando lives in the fucking city ! Like, Lance, how could you be so fucking stupid? And what are you even planning to do? Are you really going to go this random address alone to meet up with this random person who is paying thousands of dollars to fuck some kid?”

“He’s not-”

“No! Shut Up!” Keith makes that face that Marco makes when he might cry but chooses anger instead. “Did you even lookup the address he gave you?”

“I-”

“It’s in the fucking woods, Lance! This creep is trying to lure you out into the woods to fucking fuck him! And if that’s what he says is going to happen, the what fuck do you think is really going to happen?”

Lance swallows and digs his nails into his arms.

“Well?” Keith demands, pushing Lance’s shoulder so that he loses his balance and falls onto his ass.

Lance’s face is burning. “I need the money,” he says. “I mean, Keith. It’s ten thousand dollars. That’s like… a thousand plus ten!”

“That’s times ten,” Keith grumbles. Then he gasps in realization. “Oh, my god. This is your fucking ‘job’?! What the fuck, Lance? You’ve been buying us food, and you’ve been paying me with your dirty whore money? And for what? For your dick collection? God. Is that why you have so many? Fuck. I don’t want your fucking money. I’m getting a real job. Don’t pay for my fucking shit with your dirty fucking money. You-”

“Keith!” Lance cuts him off. “I get it! I’m a dirty fucking whore! But I need this money. I’m not like you and Hunk and Pidge. If I can even get into a college, they aren’t going to give me a scholarship. I need this money for school.”

The pause here feels longer than it probably is as Lance and Keith study each other— each trying to read the other’s face while masking his own.

“For school,” Keith says finally. “I doubt many schools want their students whoring themselves out for the whole world to see.” He leans his head back against the wall. “Fuck, Lance. This is dangerous. I should fucking report you.”

“No!” Lance pulls Keith forward by the wrists to make him look at him. “Keith, you can’t! If you report me, then I’ll lose everything. Please, Keith. Don’t do this. I know it’s dangerous, but come on! It’s ten thousand dollars! Please, Keith.”

Keith looks down at Lance’s grip on his wrists. Then he glances to the side, and his mouth twitches like something sour is about to escape. “Fine,” he caves.

Lance’s face splits into a relieved grin. He loosens his hold and seizes Keith instead by the hands. “Thank you! God, please don’t tell anybody. I’ll do whatever you want. I’ll-”

“On one condition.”

Keith says it so darkly that Lance’s smile falters. “What?”

“I’m not letting you go alone to some rando’s cabin in the woods.”

Lance tries to follow Keith’s flitting gaze to perhaps understand what he is trying to say. “What do you mean?”

Keith squeezes Lance’s hands, swallows, then makes direct eye contact. “I’m going with you.”

Chapter Text

The two weeks leading to Lance’s live stream are hectic, to say the least.

Keith does not talk to him in person, and even over text, he scarcely graces Lance with a ‘K’. It hurts more than Lance cares to admit. He even decides that he doesn’t have a crush on Keith anymore. As much as he trusts the guy, something about the constant scowls and passive-aggressive comments to their other friends kills his romantic feelings.

Lance also moves back to his house. The guilt of leaving his mom high and dry for so long finally overwhelms him.

When he comes into the house, the tension is intense. Mamá gives an over-the-top, fake explanation for why Lance was gone, even though everyone except for the kids knows essentially what went down. He was expecting the rest of his family to be as disgusted by him as Mamá was, but they don’t even look at him, which is somehow worse.

Marco gives him a wide berth at least, but Papá insists that he start driving Lance to school again. They probably have some agreement that Marco should keep an eye on Lance, i.e. beat him up if he steps out of line again. It wouldn’t be the first time they did something like that.

What’s even worse is that Lance doesn’t have his own room anymore. All of his stuff that didn’t get purged is in boxes in the living room.

“I just don’t think that the attic space is suited for a bedroom,” Mamá says sweetly. “I also…” She looks down. “I want to make sure you are safe, mijo.”

Her obvious implication is that she wants to know if he, say, is left tied to a bed sitting in his own piss for two days with no food or water, but Lance picks up on her deeper meaning: I want to make sure you are acting straight.

She gives his laptop and webcam back, but it’s not like he can do anything with them out in the open.

When Keith comes over after GGPEE prep, he is so caught off guard by the vast difference in mood from the last time he was here that he breaks his silent treatment.

“Is there a reason you upgraded to the pullout couch?” he asks at dinner.

Everyone side-glances at Lance.

“Oh!” Mamá laughs. “Really, an attic is for storage. Don’t you agree? This way is better for everyone.”

Lance hasn’t told his friends about what happened with him and his mom and Marco, and he doesn’t want to, but he looks at Keith and mouths, “I’ll tell you later.”

When they’re setting up for bed, Papá hovers in the entryway. Lance decides that making a pillow border between where he and Keith will sleep might appease his father.

“What are you doing?” Keith questions, slightly frustrated. “You’re being weird.”

Lance laughs the same way his mom did at dinner. “Oh, Keith! We have to be careful not to touch. Don’t you agree? This is a no-homo-home, after all.” He means it as a joke, but Keith appears hurt, then angry.

Lance wants to apologize, but he can’t explain himself without outing both of them, so he stays silent.

Papá grunts and walks away.

—

The next day, Lance can’t eat anything. He is nervous for tonight. (Plus, he doesn’t want to shit on his first sex partner, haha.) He really wants to tell his mom what he is doing as his secret queer persona, and though he is meeting Space_Daddy partially out of spite at this point, he isn’t so petty or stupid as to throw this in her face.

Lance refuses to let all the bullshit with his family ruin his first time.

Keith, however, is much less exuberant. He stands a few feet behind the other with his arms crossed and his face hidden by his hair when they go to the post office to pick up the lingerie that Lance ordered.

Lance tries on the three outfits in the local Walmart family bathroom and asks Keith to review them.

Even though they’re in a tiff, Keith’s blush as he grunts, “The light blue looks nice on you,” sends Lance over the moon.

“Wait,” Keith says before they mount his bike. “Are you really going to wear that the whole way there? It’s almost an hour’s drive.”

“What’s the problem?” Lance smirks. “I’ve worn outfits like this on your bike before.”

Keith gasps. Then he growls and shoves the second helmet into Lance’s chest. “Whatever. Let’s just go.”

Lance is giddier than a southern bride-to-be on the way to the mysterious cabin in the woods. When they finally pull up, his gut clenches. The place is beautiful: it looks more like a fancy restaurant than a hunting house.

This is really happening!

Keith seems nervous too, albeit in a different way. He stays on his bike as he surveys the area. “Are you sure about this?” His voice is dry and vulnerable.

Lance hops off the back to exemplify his enthusiasm. “I’m ready.” He wants to run to the door like it’s his grandmother’s house on Easter Sunday, but Keith holds him back.

“I’ll go first,” Keith says, grabbing a bundle of cloth from his saddlebag. “Stay out of view from the door until we’re sure nothing is wrong.”

Keith knocks.

Lance stands to the side, lowering his expectations as much as he can while simultaneously boiling over with anticipation. Should he have worn a nicer outfit over his lingerie? What if Space_Daddy is a murderer? But he seems so nice…. Maybe Lance should take off his shirt. Wait, no. That’s too forward. Too forward? He is literally here to live stream sex. He hopes the WiFi is good out here. Why did he agree to-

All cognition fails when the door opens to reveal the sexiest man Lance has ever seen. Tight black pants over thick, muscled legs. A slightly darker black t-shirt stretched across huge deltoids and pecs. A sharp, strong jaw; a symmetrical scar across his nose; dark, manicured eyebrows resting over sleek, narrow eyes; a grizzled undercut with a floof of white. And, oh, his smooth, tenor voice when he says, “Uh, hello?”

“Are you Space underscore Daddy?” Keith asks hostilely, gripping the bundle of fabric.

The man blanches. “I…am.” He swallows. “Who are you?”

Keith looks like he is about to lunge and attack when Lance remembers himself.

“Keith. Calm down,” Lance says, stepping into the light.

“Don’t use my real name!” Keith whisper-yells.

“Ah! Sorry,” Lance winces. “Wait! Before anyone says anything else, my fake name is...um Leo?” He looks at Space_Daddy. “Does that sound okay?”

Space_Daddy was caught off guard, but he recovers with a smile (a perfect, sexy smile) and holds out his hand. “Takashi.”

“What?” Lance asks, taking his hand and shaking it slowly.

“Is my name....”

“Oh!” Lance beams. He places his other hand over top. “It’s nice to meet you!”

Takashi’s gaze softens endearingly. “Likewise.”

It’s a nice moment until Keith announces, “I have a knife.”

Takashi looks at Keith like he is the mysterious man from the woods. “Is he making you do this?” he asks Lance. “Is he pimping you out or threatening you or something?”

Lance laughs to ease the building tension. “Ah, no. Heh. He’s supposed to be my bodyguard. You know, in case you are a murderer.” He side-glances at Keith. “I offered him a cut of the cash, but he doesn’t want anything to do with my dirty whore money.”

Takashi moves to let them inside. “I mean, as long as you want him here...”

The cabin’s facade made it appear expensive, but the inside is downright luxurious. The walls are paneled with pale wood where scenic paintings hang. The furniture in the front room is clean and plush. Straight above is a loft that is furnished like a bedroom; to the right is a door open to what appears to be the master bedroom; to the left is a kitchen, a hallway, and down a few steps, fancy-anime-sliding doors that Lance really wants to open, but he remains composed.

“This place is amazing,” Lance says in polite awe. “Do you live here by yourself?”

Takashi shakes his head. “I work in the city, so I usually stay at my apartment there. This place is kind of a vacation home to me. My aunt and uncle used to host family holidays here when I was younger, and I’m kind of like the groundskeeper now.”

Keith raises a skeptical eyebrow. “Why aren’t we at your apartment? Were you planning to do something to Leo where no one could hear him scream?”

Lance sends a look like, “Stop being rude,” but then Takashi shrugs and says, “Kind of.”

He notices the startled faces of the others and elaborates. “One of the reasons is for the sake of privacy.” He turns to Lance. “You seem to be holding back your volume in your streams, so I figured you’d be more comfortable somewhere that you don’t have to worry about neighbors.” He spreads his hands peacefully. “Also, I want to make it very clear that I won’t do anything with you that you don’t specifically want me to do. You’re in control here.”

“Oh,” Lance smiles. “That was a good idea. And, um, thanks.”

Lance realizes that he is trying to pressure himself to be able to do anything that Space_Daddy might want, even if it makes him uncomfortable. On one hand, he feels obligated to do just that; Takashi paid for this after all. On the other hand, Lance is incredibly relieved to know that he gets a say in what happens to him tonight.

Takashi gestures to the living room. “Will you sit? I’d like to speak with you before we do anything.”

“You’re already speaking to him,” Keith points out helpfully, but they sit anyway— Lance and Takashi on the loveseat together, and Keith across the coffee table on the couch.

Lance is almost shaking with nerves, but he does his best to open himself to Takashi with his body language. He even braves his knee to touch Space_Daddy’s leg, and oh how much more that excites him.

“Listen,” Takashi says in a way that makes it clear why someone so young is called “daddy”. “I know this isn’t the sexiest conversation, but it needs to be had. I...understand that you’re eighteen and that you feel like an adult, but you’re still really young. I’m twenty-four— significantly older than you are— and I know that I’ve grown a lot since eighteen. My point is that I don’t want to do anything with you because you feel obligated or pressured at all. You don’t have to follow my lead because I’m more experienced. Whatever happens tonight, I want it to be because you want it to happen.”

Lance blushes. This is a lot more respect than he was expecting. No one— not even in his family— has ever talked to him like he has any kind of authority. This feeling is new and overwhelming. “You can still lead though, right?” he asks. “I really have no idea what I’m doing.”

Takashi looks uncertainly at the table. “If you don’t know what you’re doing, then...maybe you’re not ready for this. It’s okay if we don’t do anything.”

Keith perks up.

Lance recovers from his shock with a nervous laugh. “I didn’t mean that I know nothing. I’m literally a sex worker. I just meant, like, with another person, I don’t know what to do.” He seems to be winning Space_Daddy over, but for good measure he adds, “You know, I like being told what to do.”

Takashi sighs in defeat. “Alright then.” Then he laughs to himself. “I can’t believe you’re really here.”

He directs the conversation to safe words and then logistics (Takashi: “Is your ‘bodyguard’ going to be in the room?” Keith: “No way! I don’t want to see that!”). Then to STIs and STDs (Takashi: “Have you been tested recently?” Lance: “No…. I’m a virgin.” Takashi: “Oh, right.”). Then to actually streaming (Lance: “I usually just follow the suggestions that people leave.” Takashi: “All of them?” Lance: “How do you think I got so popular?”)

Topics that Lance would imagine as embarrassing with anyone else are easy with Takashi. Lance loves being able to talk about everything he feels, down to the dirty details. He loves leaning so completely and comfortably into this side of himself.

As they talk, Space_Daddy’s fingers inch their way from Lance’s knee to his upper thigh. Lance attempts to match his moves by creeping his own fingers up Takashi’s arm to tickle the hair at the nape of his neck. Lance’s nerves ebb away almost completely, and he starts making more direct advances like hooking one of his legs between Takashi’s. The longer this goes on, the more his attraction for this man grows.

Keith stands suddenly. “I guess I’ll set up the camera?” he huffs.

“The master gets the best internet,” Takashi points, not taking his eyes off Lance. “I used to stream myself playing Minecraft in there.”

Lance simpers like that’s the sexiest thing he’s ever heard. “I love that.”

Takashi smirks and leans in as soon as Keith leaves. He hesitates just an inch away from Lance’s face, but the other closes the gap eagerly for his first kiss with another boy.

Takashi guides Lance’s hips to his lap where Lance straddles his waist. He focuses on the way his lips smush into Space_Daddy’s clean-shaven face, the way his tongue slips freely between their mouths. It’s different than making out with girls, he decides. Mostly because girls don’t usually grope Lance’s ass, but also because nobody has ever openly wanted him like this.

When Keith reports that everything is ready, Takashi lifts Lance and carries him into the bedroom. Keith closes the door behind them.

They keep kissing on the bed, but Lance grabs Takashi’s wrist when he slips his hand into his pants.

“Wait for the stream to start,” Lance laughs.

Takashi kisses along Lance’s jaw to his ear. “Whatever you want,” he smiles against Lance's ear. He kisses again. “I’ll do anything for you.”

Lance gasps in mock offense. “That’s what I’m supposed to say!”

Takashi growls, but it’s sexy. “You aren’t making it easy to hold back,” he laughs. “Are you prepped?” Takashi grinds down so that Lance can feel his dick through his pants. It’s barely hard, but Lance gulps at the size.

“Ah, no. I thought you’d want me tight.”

“Hah! Of course, you’d think that.” He starts pressing firm kisses to Lance’s neck. “Don’t worry, baby.” Kiss. “I’ll take care of you.”

Chapter Text

When it’s finally time to start, Lance makes Space_Daddy sit up next to him and face the camera as if they are about to make a product review together instead of porn.

“Hello everyone! Ahh! I’m so excited. Okay, so, Loverboy here, and this is my very, very special guest, Space_Daddy!”

Lance giggles like a schoolboy. Well, he is a schoolboy, but that’s beside the point. Hahaha, he is so dead if this ever gets out.

“As you know, I can no longer film at my old place, and I lost most of my old stuff, so things will be a little different from here on out. First, and most exciting: I am renting out my body to willing and qualified volunteers, like yourselves.” He winks. “Second: since this way is significantly more involved, I will not be able to stream as often. Don’t worry though! My goal is to create something that you can watch on repeat. And last: we will be taking suggestions for this specific stream, but Space_Daddy is in control of whether they are accepted. If you don’t get what you want, you’ll get your money back.”

Takashi traces circles on Lance’s knee.

“Okay!” Lance claps. “Let’s do this!” He turns to face Takashi, who is already leaning in.

“Can I take off your clothes now?” he mutters, looping his fingers in the waistband of Lance’s jeans.

“Hehe, yes.”

He whips off Lance’s shirt and pushes him down to rip off Lance’s pants. His gaze gets heavy following the pattern on Lance’s lingerie.

Lance’s chest clenches pleasantly. It’s similar to the way he felt the first time he revealed his undergarments on camera but ten times more potent in person.

“How long have you been wearing this?” Takashi asks, running his palm over the lace.

“Why?” Lance counters. “You think I’m ready to take it off?”

Takashi raises an eyebrow, playing into the act. “No,” he says sternly.

Lance is surprised by his tone but in a good way. “Yes, sir,” he squeaks.

After confirming consent, Takashi kisses Lance all over his body, licking, sucking, biting. When he starts on Lance’s inner thighs, the boy is already wet, precum no doubt darkening his panties.

“Ah hah hah, woah!” Lance gasps when Space_Daddy scrapes his teeth over his tent. “Fuck. I’m gonna cum in my pants if you keep that up!”

Takashi pops up from between Lance’s legs. “I might have something for that, actually.” He disappears momentarily into a closet and comes back with a small wooden box.

Lance holds his breath, watching the box curiously as it comes toward him.

“What do you think of these?” Takashi asks politely, opening the box to show Lance and not the audience.

An assortment of surgical steel sounding rods and cock rings stare up at him.

Lance doesn’t know quite how to react. He has played around with vibrating cock rings, but sounding rods are totally foreign to him. “A-are they clean? And is it safe?”

Takashi grins. “They’re all clean. This is the only one that’s ever been used, actually. And yes, it’s safe. I’ll clean them again if you want to try it.”

Lance bites his lip. “Ask them,” he nods to the camera.

Of course, his viewers are on board. They choose a short rod that has a ring attached to it.

Takashi has Lance stand on his knees, and he holds him from behind. He kisses Lance’s neck as he gropes him through his panties to get him hard again before finally pulling his dick out. Lance melts into Space_Daddy’s chest as he traces the seam of his penis, pulls back his foreskin, and inserts the tip of the rod into Lance’s urethra.

Lance swats Takashi’s hand away instinctively, and the other stops what he is doing.

“Are you okay? Is this okay?”

“Yeah, sorry. Go ahead.”

Takashi continues slowly. Then he hooks the ring under Lance’s head. “Does that feel alright? No pain?”

It feels weird, but not unpleasant. “Yeah.”

Takashi kisses Lance more where they kneel on the bed, touching his chest, plucking the straps of his lingerie. When Space_Daddy strokes Lance’s cock, the boy nearly doubles over, blind-sighted by his amped sensitivity.

Lance turns around then, tired of the foreplay already. He grabs Takashi’s face and kisses it. Takashi adjusts quickly, running his hands down Lance’s back, pulling down his underwear to his knees, and tracing his thighs up to grab his bare ass. Lance hums into the kiss. He grips Takashi’s shirt for dear life. The fact that someone else is touching him like this, in tandem with the urethral plug, is amazing.

When Space_Daddy grabs the lube to finger Lance, the boy buries his face in the crook of Takashi’s neck. He whimpers and moans as Space_Daddy stretches his hole. Lance tickles Takashi’s tent, keeping him hard and visualizing how this dick will fit inside of him.

They work together to take off Takashi’s shirt. Lance literally drools over the perfectly shredded (and mysteriously scarred) torso in front of him. Then he bites Space_Daddy’s shoulders as the man continues to finger him. He starts to feel lightheaded with his building orgasm.

“Can you fuck me now?” Lance whines. “Please, Daddy? I want it now.”

In one fell swoop, Space_Daddy puts Lance on his back with his legs over his shoulders. He takes off the rest of his clothes and then kisses Lance’s feet and bites his toes through the stockings before nestling his hips between the boy’s legs.

Lance lays back his head with his eyes closed as Takashi puts on a condom and teases Lance’s hole just a little bit before finally, finally pushing himself inside.

Lance feels pleasantly dizzy. This is happening! Sex! For real!

Takashi works himself into Lance with a sawing motion, pulling out slightly before sinking deeper inside as Lance’s asshole flutters to accommodate him.

Lance grabs his own dick and pumps it slowly. With the plug and his hand and Space_Daddy easing into his ass, Lance starts seeing stars.

“Can I cum?” he asks. “I think I’m gonna cum.”

Takashi sheathes himself completely inside of Lance and leans forward, pushing Lance’s knees to his ears.

“Let me help you,” Takashi suggests sexily, his voice scraping against the bottom of his range.

“Mm, uh huh. Ye’sir.”

Space_Daddy kisses Lance on the cheek and starts thrusting. He also takes over stroking Lance’s cock, the sensation of a lube-covered hand feeling much better than a dry one.

Lance lets himself go. All of these things that he is feeling...he doesn’t have to do any work to feel them right now! And it is so much more than what he can do to himself at home. Instead of a cold, dead dildo, a hot, throbbing cock is inside of him. Instead of his own feeble arms doing their best to pump, a stallion of a man is thrusting into him, that perfect body hitting Lance’s and sending short shockwaves through him every time.

Lance moans like a cat in heat, his voice getting lower the closer he gets to his orgasm.

“Like- yes. I like tha-ha- Ah! Oh! Mmmmm, yeah yeah yeah yeah. Fuck! Ah! Yes! I like it. Daddy. Mm. Daddy, I’m- ah! Ah! Ahhhh!”

Takashi pops off the penis plug like it is a cork on a bottle of champagne, and cum spills over his fingers as he continues to fuck Lance’s ass. He kisses the boy’s O-face as it twitches.

When Lance’s mind comes back to him as afterglow, he prompts Space_Daddy to switch positions. They take off all of Lance’s outfit save the stockings (per viewer request), and this time, Takashi lies on his back.

Lance stares for a couple of seconds at the huge cock standing straight up between Takashi’s god-like thighs.

“Can I put it in my mouth?” Lance blurts. He used to think that a real-live dick was disgusting, but that is probably because Lance has only been around his dad’s and brothers’ dicks before this. This dick in front of him looks fucking delicious.

Takashi chuckles. “Of course, baby.”

Lance takes off the condom, catching the string of precum that comes off it on his tongue. He starts at the head of the penis, giving it a sucking sort of kiss. Then he slides his tongue down the outside of the shaft to mouth at Space_Daddy’s balls.

Takashi pets Lance’s back with his feet in approval.

Lance hums and spits and finally works up the courage to actually put the cock in his mouth. He has never successfully deepthroated anything, but as soon as he locks his lips around the tip, Space_Daddy grabs Lance by the hair and “helps” him down. Lance chokes over and over again, determined to succeed for Takashi.

When he finally relaxes his throat enough for his lips to meet the rest of Space_Daddy’s body, he forces himself to stay here, grabbing Takashi’s hips to anchor himself.

The man massages Lance’s scalp at the same time, strongly suggesting that this continue.

Lance’s body jerks for want of air, and his eyes water. He swallows against the cock, and Takashi groans, pleased.

Lance comes up gasping with a huge grin on his face.

“I did it!” he beams.

Takashi laughs again. “Yes you did, baby. You did such a good job.”

Butterflies dance inside of Lance at the praise.

“Come here now,” Space_Daddy commands.

The two start making out again, but there is something different about it this time. It’s passionate. It’s so involved.

Lance accidentally falls in love again. He deepens the kiss physically, emotionally, squeezing his thighs against Takashi’s torso and grinding on his washboard abs.

It isn’t long before Takashi pushes Lance away. “Get another condom on me,” he begs. “I’m losing my mind!”

Lance smirks, pleased. “Yes, sir.”

He uses his tongue to keep the air out of the condom as he slides it down Space_Daddy’s shaft with his hand. Since Lance is here, he douses the dick with copious amounts of lube before straddling Takashi again.

Lance tries to tease the man by lowering himself slowly onto his cock, but Takashi is closer than Lance realized because he grabs the boy’s hips and starts thrusting to high heaven.

Lance keeps his thighs and core engaged, which directs his body heat straight back to his dick.

Space_Daddy directs Lance’s ankles so that the boy is on his feet rather than his knees. The slight change in angle sends Takashi’s cock right into Lance’s prostate, and the boy gasps.

The sound of their bodies slapping together, the squelching at Lance’s ass, his swallowed whimpers, the beating of the bed into the wall, Lance’s dick knocking between their bodies, his moans—which quickly turn back into whimpers—when he remembers that he can be loud, Takashi’s grunting as he cums.

Lance grabs his dick and works it faster than Space_Daddy’s still rapid-fire thrusts. His body soon jerks with his second orgasm, and his legs give out as he collapses forward onto Soace_Daddy’s chest.

Takashi’s post-orgasm heartbeat shakes the bed and everything on it.

Lance pants peacefully, his muscles relaxing completely as he melts into Takashi.

He hopes this was as intense for his viewers as it was for him because this stream is nowhere near a whole hour. Despite how much he never wants to move again, Lance reaches back and takes off the condom, collecting Space_Daddy’s cum on his hand.

When he licks it, he is surprised by the taste—sweeter than his own. He continues to lap at the semen, swallowing it, until his hand is clean again.

Takashi stirs to rub Lance’s back. The boy winces when the man makes him move up a bit, but they melt back together in a slow, intimate kiss.

They continue, writhing gently, becoming intertwined. Fingers in hair. Legs tangled together.

Lance breaks the kiss only because his drowsy head becomes too heavy.

“Don’t forget that you’re live, little baby,” Takashi whispers.

Lance manages a slurred sign-off, and Space_Daddy ends the stream for him.

With one deep breath of satisfaction, Lance falls asleep completely.

Chapter Text

“Um, hello?” Keith calls. “Are you done?”

Lance reluctantly peels himself off Takashi’s perfect chest. “Wha’ tim’issit?” he mumbles.

“Two-twenty-three A.M.,” Takashi answers groggily. He traces little circles around Lance’s knuckles. “Are you going somewhere?”

He says it in a way that seems to mean, “I don’t want you to go, but I can’t stop you.”

Lance watches the hand on his. “Well,” he muses, “we don’t have to go just yet.”

“La-eo,” Keith interjects. “We...what? Why not?”

Lance laces his fingers through Takashi’s. “I don’t know how well I could hold on to the back of your bike right now,” he says sweetly. “But more important,” he looks up, “you don’t seem like you should drive. Did you sleep at all?”

Keith shifts his feet. “No, but I-”

“Stay,” Takashi says, sitting up. “You really need to sleep before driving. Especially with a motorcycle.”

Keith scrunches his face and points his knife (Woah. Cool knife.) at Space_Daddy. “You need to stay out of this. You’ve had your time with Leo. Now let him go.”

“It’s not-” Takashi takes his hand back from Lance. “It’s not about him. There are plenty of rooms here. You two can have one for as long as you need. One that locks from the inside—if that’s what you want. Just please don’t drive while tired.”

Lance gives Keith puppy-dog eyes, and the other’s shoulders slump in defeat.

“Fine,” Keith grunts. “Get dressed, and we’ll sleep.”

“Yay!” Lance claps. “But I need to shower first.” He turns back to Space_Daddy. “Is that okay?”

“Of course!” Takashi slides his arms around Lance’s waist. “Do you want help with that?”

Lance giggles. “Yes, please.”

Repulsed, Keith marches back to the living room.

Takashi swings Lance (naked) over his shoulder and carries him to the master bathroom. It is as big as Lance’s childhood bedroom; even the bath is as wide as his old bed.

Lance realizes halfway through Space_Daddy washing him that he is living his greatest fantasy. His chest swells with emotion, and he throws himself at Takashi to make out in the water.

The man reciprocates not only the act but also the neediness of it.

“You are fucking perfect,” Takashi laughs in disbelief. He grabs Lance's face and takes a moment of gratitude. Then they are kissing again—like Linguini and Colette from Ratatouille (minus the rats).

After washing, Takashi gives Lance a T-shirt and boxers (because Lance forgot to bring clean underwear that wasn’t lingerie), and they hold each other just a little bit longer before saying goodbye.

“I have to keep reminding myself that you’re not real,” Takashi squeezes.

“What?” Lance laughs.

“I mean that this isn’t natural. Or- That I won’t see you again.”

Lance deflates a little. “Oh.”

“Unless you want to!” Takashi adds quickly. “I’ll do whatever you want.”

“You’re stealing my lines again,” Lance grins.

“You’re stalling,” Keith huffs from the doorway. “We have things to do tomorrow. Come on.”

Lance doesn’t want to go, but Keith is right.

“Maybe I can call you if I’m ever in town again?” Lance asks Takashi.

The man smiles fondly. “I’d like that.”

Before Lance can kiss him again, Keith drags Lance away to a room down the hall, promptly locking the door and collapsing on the bed.

Lance, in an effort to preserve his good mood, opts to take off Keith’s shoes for him instead of chastising him for having them on the bed, but Keith kicks him away.

“Fuck off!” Keith hisses. “Just go to sleep so we can get out of here!”

Lance pushes down his rush of anger like he would swallow a little bit of puke; it doesn’t come out, but the rancid taste is left in his mouth.

“What the fuck is your problem, Keith?” He continues fighting to take off his shoes. “You’ve been a dick to me all week, and you’re being a dick now, after you invited yourself to my date, and then you point a fucking knife at our host, unprovoked!”

“I was worried about you. We don’t know anything about this guy! Your fucking date? He bought you!”

“Yeah, you were so worried about me. That’s why you left me in there alone with him and the door closed,” Lance criticizes.

Keith stops fighting. Actually, he goes kind of rigid. “I didn’t- I couldn’t- A-are you okay?”

Lance laughs to recover from the sudden tone shift. “I’m fine, yeah. Good, even. Takashi is amazing!” He tosses Keith’s shoes victoriously onto the floor. “I mean, I’m sore but, like, in a good way. Y’know?”

Keith goes slack, and when Lance gets off his legs, Keith turns away. “Okay.”

Lance can tell that Keith is upset with him, but he can’t figure out why. He turns off the light and crawls under the covers.

“Keith, come under the blanket; you’re squishing me.”

“No homo,” the other spits, getting under the blankets and then ripping them off of Lance.

“What?” Lance tries to take the blankets back, but Keith has an iron grip on them in the fetal position.

“You are so confusing!” Keith laments. “Emancipation, GGPEE, AP Exams, SAT, GPA, job applications- Fuck! Why do I have to worry about you too?”

“I don’t need you to worry about me,” Lance huffs. “And I’m confusing? You’re the one who has been going off lately. I get that we have a lot going on, but I don’t need you to make me one of your problems. Why are you being so weird with me?”

“Why did you tell me that you’re not gay?!” Keith questions. The hurt in his voice makes Lance flinch. “When you said that you weren’t, you were like, ‘It’s fine if they don’t shove it in my face,’ but now you’re literally shoving it up your ass, so I don’t get it. Why did you lie to me? Were you afraid that I would make a move or something? Do you dislike me that much?”

Lance pauses to think about his answer. He wants to tell Keith the truth. He gives up the fight and lies on top of the blankets and Keith. “I-I didn’t lie to you. I’m not gay.”

Keith scoffs in disbelief. “Oh, your Space underscore Daddy is just that amazing, huh? Or are you straight and just doing this because it’s ten-thousand dollars?”

Lance wishes he could match Keith’s tone, but then he panics and shoots for funny instead. “One, Takashi is amazing. I just said that. Two, I’m not gay. Or straight… I’m bi.”

Lance’s face gets hot, and his chest tightens as he waits for Keith to respond to his confession. Will he believe him? Will he get upset at the misunderstanding? Do gay people dislike bi people?

“Oh,” Keith says. “What the fuck, Lance?”

“I’m sor-“

“Why didn’t you just say that before?”

Lance hesitates. “Well, I… At the time we were discussing the matter, I had never said it aloud.” He squirms. “I was thinking it—and I trust you, so I thought I could tell you. I was just scared, and I couldn’t get it out.”

Keith takes a deep breath, lifting and lowering Lance gently on the inhale and exhale. “I get it, I guess. I’m sorry for forcing it out of you here. I’ve only told one other person besides you about me, so... I guess I just thought I was someone you would want to tell.”

Lance buries his face in Keith’s bundle. “I did want to tell you,” he insists. “It’s just...when you asked me if I was gay, it felt like an accusation, and my instinct was to deny it completely. I know that there’s nothing wrong with being gay or bi or whatever, but I have to keep reminding myself because I feel… It’s hard to not meet the conditions for unconditional love.”

Keith uncurls a little bit. “Yeah,” he says. “I had one family that found out about me, and they- like- attacked me for it.”

Lance squeezes Keith in consolation. “I… Me too.”

Keith takes a moment to process what that means.

“Your family…” Keith starts, and Lance scrambles to the other side of the bed. Keith turns to face him. “When?”

“No, sorry. Attack is too strong,” Lance backtracks, also turning. “I mean, really- heh, no. It was just-” He can’t say another word without crying. It was just what?

“Lance?”

“Like a month ago, sorry.”

“That day you missed school?”

“Right before that, actually. It was the day I passed out and missed GGPEE prep. I missed school later because I was...recovering? That sounds too strong. Sorry.”

“Stop apologizing.” Keith does a little back-and-forth with his hand before setting it on Lance’s. “Will you tell me what happened? I can go first if you want. And I don’t care whether your words are quote-unquote too strong. Just...tell me?”

Lance cannot see Keith’s face in the dark, but he lowers his head anyway. “It was honestly mostly Marco, really,” he begins. He tells Keith about everyone finding his toys and lingerie, about his mom throwing everything away and crying and saying he is sick (Lance omits the part where she tore off his underwear; he can’t bring himself to say it again.), about Marco following him upstairs and beating him up and taping him to the bed (Lance omits some details here too so that it doesn’t show how weak he really is compared to Marco.), about Veronica finding him and taking him to her place (He skips the part where he was covered in his own piss; too embarrassing to say.), and about the deal with his mom to act “normal” in exchange for her protection.

“Why did you go back to your house?” Keith asks. “When that one foster dad hit me, I ran away and called my caseworker.”

“Okay, well I’ve never had a caseworker.”

“You could… Do you feel safe at home?”

“I- no, but I don’t want a caseworker. And besides, I went home because I missed my mom. I couldn’t leave her like that.”

“Even after what she did to you?”

Lance doesn’t know how to feel about “what she did to him”. She hurt him, but she didn’t mean to hurt him. “Marco was the one who did anything wrong. Even then, he just did what big brothers do. I mean, I’m still mad about all of my stuff getting thrown out and having to sleep in the living room, but I understand that Mamá was just scared. I mean, I’m still scared. If I could change it, I think I would.”

“Tch,” Keith tch-es. “Yeah, you’re so scared and eager to be straight that you solicit sex with random old guys online.”

Lance laughs lightly. “Touché.” He relaxes his head against Keith’s hand. “I guess I’m trying to prove that I like guys by doing this. And I guess I did.” He giggles to himself. “Or maybe Takashi can just make anyone swing that way. I mean, did you see him?”

“Ugh, I get it! Okay? He’s so sexy and amazing, and no one compares to a god like Takashi, right?”

They both laugh, Keith slowly tucking his thumb into Lance’s palm.

“Are we good now?” Lance asks.

“Yeah.” Keith throws the blankets back over Lance and replaces his hand over the other’s. “We were never bad. I was mad, and I took it out on you, but I wasn’t mad at you. I mean, I guess I was mad because of you, but it’s more that everything important to me is happening at once, and I was freaking out. I’m sorry for being a dick.” He squeezes Lance’s hand gently. “I think this feeling is jealousy.”

Lance has never thought that someone else might have the same fantasies as him, let alone one of his best friends. He feels very lucky to get so much sexual love and attention from largely inconsequential interactions. He suddenly feels guilty for Keith being a part of all of this without getting the part he wanted.

“I can’t say that I support…this,” Keith continues, “but I want to support you. I want to be there if this happens again... I want to protect you.”

Lance turns onto his back. “Thank you, Keith.” He reconsiders a crush on Keith, but he doesn’t want it to be like all of the crushes he has had before. Keith feels really important to him—like Hunk and Veronica but also kind of not like that. Lance wants to keep this part of their relationship that he loses quickly with crushes and girlfriends. The real part. “I know it was kinda by accident, but I’m glad to have someone I don’t have to hide anything from. I feel safe with you.”

Keith breathes like he is about to say something else, but he doesn’t.

In the morning, they find a note from Takashi saying that he decided to run a marathon, and he will be back some time in the early afternoon if they want to leave while he is away. There is also a page of bullet-point suggestions for how Lance can be safer if/when he does another live stream like last night’s. On the back is Takashi’s phone number and a little love letter (as Lance reads it, anyway) saying that he wants to see Lance again sometime if the other is willing and able.

Lance puts the second page in his pocket and writes his own letter on the first thanking Takashi for everything.

As they ride back to Lance’s house, Lance compares his feelings for Takashi and for Keith. He is head-over-heels for the former but has a genuine connection with the latter.

Wait. What’s the difference?

Argh! Thinking about his feelings is so difficult for Lance when he falls in love so easily!

Chapter Text

It is cram week for the GGPEE. The only thing Lance has time to do for his channel is sell subpar nudes.

Lance, Keith, Hunk, and Pidge go to the Holt House (™) every day after school to drill everything that any of them have ever gotten wrong. Since they stay so late, Keith has to sleep at Lance’house s almost every night, which neither of them minds because it gives them more time to help each other study. It is also good for Lance because he can ride to school with Keith again instead of Marco, and he stops seeing his brother completely since he is so busy.

The Sunday before the GGPEE, Keith comes to Lance’s house for brunch.

Lance is tired from test prep, but his bed is a couch right now, so he curls up on one cushion with Rachel at his feet and his head on a pillow on Keith’s lap. He is in and out of consciousness as everyone talks.

Mamá: “So Keith, do you have any plans for prom?”

Keith: “Uh, no. I’m pretty focused on exams right now. When is it?”

Mamá: “It’s this Friday.”

Keith: “Oh, wow. The GGPEE is Saturday morning, so I don’t think any of us will be going. AP Exams start the following week, too, so we probably wouldn’t go unless it was after those.”

Mamá: “Well I think Lance will go. He went last year when he was dating that senior girl… Do you know if he’s seeing anyone? He hasn’t told me about any girls since Christmas.”

Keith: “I don’t know if it’s my place to talk about his flings.”

Mamá: “Oh ho ho! His flings?”

Keith: “Um...I don’t know.”

Marco: “Keith, can I talk to you for a second?”

Keith tenses. “What?”

Marco: “I need to tell you something.”

Mamá: “What’s this about?”

Marco: “Keith, you don’t want to sit there like that. I need to tell you something.”

Mamá: “Marco, we’ve been over this. Drop it.”

Marco: “But he’s- Keith, you need to know something about Lance.”

Rachel: “Stop.”

Mamá: “Sit down, Marco."

Lance wakes up completely when Marco pulls him off the couch by the arm.

“Just stay away from them!” Marco shouts. He pushes Lance away from the living room, and for fear of getting beat up in front of Keith, Lance scrambles to the bathroom and locks the door.

Marco bangs on the door until Papá eventually sends him upstairs for making a scene.

Lance only comes out of the bathroom for dinner, and Keith has to convince him not to sleep in there.

“The test is this week,” Lance reminds him. “I can’t afford for Marco to mess me up.”

“I’m well aware,” Keith says. “But I’m here tonight. I won’t let anything happen to you.”

While he does feel better with Keith around, Lance still has trouble sleeping when Marco could come down at any minute and get him.

Lance asks his mom the next day if he can just stay at Pidge’s house for the week to get as much study time as possible.

“On one condition,” she says. “Take a girl to prom, and give me pictures.”

“But Mami, the exam is the morning after!”

She scoffs and rolls her eyes. “It’s not like sleeping the night before is going to make you pass.”

Lance wilts under her doubt. He has put so much effort into the GGPEE. He wants to get into the Garrison more than anything. But crying about it won’t get him anywhere. He tries to think objectively and concludes that if he loses one night to prom, it will be better than losing the whole week to Marco.

Lance finds a girl by posting on his Snap Story that he needs a prom date. She already had plans with her group of friends—just needed a date—so thankfully Lance only has to show up and look pretty. He continues to study all week, sacrificing as little time as possible on things like a tux and corsage.

On Friday night, his friends are taking a rest day, so hopefully Lance doesn’t miss out on anything particularly insightful.

The girl picks him up from Pidge’s house. They take pictures, eat dinner, and head to the dance with her group. Lance feels bad that he isn’t giving her the attention he thinks she deserves, so he covers the bill for everything she gets. He guesses that makes up for it since she is all over him at the dance and then in the backseat of her car after they leave.

As they make out, Lance absently touches her body, focussing more on remembering the equations for the volumes of three-dimensional shapes.

“Do you want to fuck me?” she whispers.

“What?” He shakes his head to bring himself back to reality. “Sorry, no. I have an exam tomorrow.” He looks at her with her dress around her waist and her makeup smudged across her face. “I mean,” Lance corrects, “I would like to, but I really can’t tonight.”

She pouts.

“Well,” he caves, “I can finger you if you really want to cum.”

She takes off her dress completely and sets it safely in the front seat. “Oh, fuck yeah,” she says, lying back.

Lance has done a lot of research on how to make a girl cum, but he has never had the opportunity to put his knowledge into practice. He focuses mostly on the clit, keeping it wet with the girl’s own slick. When he slips his fingers inside, he keeps his thumb dutifully on her hood. He is incredibly gentle until she gets close; then he rubs her clit fast and hard, and she actually squirts. Almost instinctively, Lance swoops down to slurp up as much of the liquid as possible.

The girl clings to him, and they continue making out as she comes down from her high.

As Lance holds her, he wishes that this was happening any other night, that he could fully enjoy it.

Pidge is still in the kitchen when Lance comes back, so he forces himself to act up, despite his exhaustion. “I can’t believe you are studying without me!” he accuses playfully.

“No,” Pidge explains. “I’m trying to drink tea to make myself sleee… What happened to your face?”

Lance hasn’t seen himself since he left Pidge’s house. Two things are likely; he goes for the milder guess to spare Pidge the details. “Maybe lipstick?”

“And your pants?”

He looks down to see a dark spot with a slight white crust on his pant leg. “Uhh…” No reasonable excuse comes to mind. “Female ejaculate?”

“What the fuck?”

Lance raises his shoulders. “Keep this between us?”

“Let’s.”

That night, Lance genuinely tries to refocus. He plans to dream about the test and everything he still needs to review, but instead he dreams that he took Keith to prom and hooked up with him after only for Marco to find them and chase after them in another car.

Lance is embarrassed and frightened when he wakes up and then panicked when he realizes the exam starts in a couple of hours.

“Hey,” Keith pulls Lance aside before they go into the testing room. “I don’t think you get this enough,” he says quietly, “but you are capable and intelligent. You are prepared for this exam. Stop worrying about it.”

Kind of blunt, Lance thinks, but he is moved more by the sentiment than the actual message. Keith is obviously just trying to make Lance feel better. Too bad that he is already so riddled with anxiety and self-doubt that he cannot take it to heart.

With all of the time he spent thinking about the exam, he is astonished and horrified by how much of everything else pops into his head when the exam actually starts! Marco, Mamá, Takashi, Veronica, Keith, Pidge’s house, Pidge’s brother?, that girl from last night, Pidge’s living room, his living room—Why is it so much easier to sleep on Pidge’s couch than his own? Keith would be a good roommate. What was with all of the messages this morning from Marco? Probably some kind of ill will. God, Marco is such a fucking dick. Marco is ruining his life! It’s Marco’s fault that Lance is having “trouble at home” and that he has to sleep in the living room and that he meets up with strangers for his live streams and that he can’t focus on this fucking exam!

“There are ten minutes remaining,” the proctor announces.

Lance’s stomach drops. He sees that he has answered every question, but he doesn’t remember any of it. When did they get to the last section of the exam? Shit. There’s a mistake in his work on this problem. How many more mistakes are there?

He rushes to correct it, only to get the same answer as the proctor calls for pencils down and books closed.

Fuck! What the fuck happened? If Lance has to go through another year of high school while his friends and sister get to be at the Garrison, if Lance has to endure another year of Marco’s torture and the horrible tension between him and his parents, if Lance has to lose touch with Hunk and Pidge and Keith all because he couldn’t fucking focus on the one day that mattered, Lance will lose his fucking mind.

He’ll drop out. He’ll run away. He’ll use the money he has to travel to anyone who will fuck him until he gets kidnapped or murdered or disappears from the world completely.

“Lance,” Hunk nudges. “Are you still coming out to eat with us?”

Lance swallows his tears and follows the group silently.

They go somewhere new since they’re in the city and end up at a Mexican diner-café. The waiter tries to talk to Lance in Spanish, and this sends the poor boy over the edge.

“I-I’m sorry,” he sniffles. “I don’t know Spanish. I can’t do anything.”

The waiter is nice and continues in English, but Lance still curls in on himself, failing to stop his tears.

Seriously? he scolds himself. This is embarrassing! Cut it out!

“Lance,” Pidge says. “What is it?”

Hunk furrows his eyebrows like he’s trying to see the source of the problem. “You can do things. We just finished the five-hour exam that we’ve been cramming for for like a month! And no matter the results, you made more progress than anyone. You should be proud of that.”

"Only because I started so far behind!" Lance counters. He buries his face in his arms because he can’t pull himself together. “I just feel sick,” he sobs.

“Are you hungover or something?” Pidge asks, mostly concerned, partly astonished.

“Maybe you shouldn’t have gone to a dance the night before the biggest exam of your teenage life,” Hunk points out, a soft bite to his words.

Lance didn’t tell his friends about what his mom said. Actually, he realizes, he hasn’t told them about anything lately. Keith only knows half the story. But it's not like he should spill his guts to them. If Lance is crying in public now, what will he be if he lets it all out?

Keith sets a tentative yet supportive hand on Lance’s back.

“I-I didn’t want to go,” he explains. “Not before the test and without you guys anyway. My-my mom made me go.”

The air is tense with their confusion.

“I mean, we made a deal that I would go,” Lance rushes to clarify, sitting up. “It’s just…” He wants to share his burdens with them, he realizes, but he just can’t. Not yet, anyway. “She and I have been fighting lately, so that’s why I’m so- why I’ve been so off.”

Hunk doesn’t seem satisfied with that answer—actually, he seems more concerned than before—but he hands Lance a napkin and says, like he knows Lance is holding back, “Well, you know I’m here for anything. I’ve got your back, buddy.”

“Yeah,” Pidge says.

Keith’s phone starts ringing, both ruining the moment and saving Lance from responding. “Ew. Marco is calling me.”

Lance wonders why Keith has Marco’s number saved when Keith looks cautiously at Lance.

“Can you talk to him right now?” Keith asks. “I’ll tell him if you need a minute.”

Hunk and Pidge clearly want to know what is going on, but Lance isn't ready to talk about his losing streak at home either. He accepts the phone and goes to the front of the restaurant, taking a centering breath before putting the device to his face.

“What do you want?” he asks his brother, doing his best to keep the quaver out of his voice.

Marco scoffs angrily. “Don’t act stupider than you already are. Stop ignoring my fucking messages,” he spits. “You know my new ex-fucking-girlfriend? Vanessa?"

"Uh, no?"

"That's fucking bullshit!" There is a crash on Marco's end like he hit something. "You took to her to prom, fag!”

Lance gulps. “Well, she took me, really. And I didn’t know. It’s not like anythin-”

“Shut the fuck up!” Marco screams. “She told me everything! Next time I see you, Lance, you’re fucking dead!”

Chapter Text

“Will you go in with me?” Lance begs Keith outside of his house.

“I have to go back to the group home now that the GGPEE is over,” Keith reminds him.

Lance squeezes Keith’s hand in both of his own. “Will you at least go in with me?”

Keith squeezes back. “Yeah. Come on.”

Lance follows behind the other like he is a flashlight and Lance’s house is a spooky abandoned building. Lance is expecting Marco to jump out and attack from behind every corner, but instead, they find Marco, Mamá, and Papá sitting expectantly around the kitchen table.

Marco stands when Lance comes in, but Mamá seats him with a glare. Then she switches modes.

“Keith!” she addresses pleasantly. It is almost like he is her favorite child now that Lance is ‘problematic’. “How did the test go?”

Keith shifts on his feet. “I feel pretty good about it, I think. I mean, I don’t really want to get my hopes up until they release the results in June.”

Mamá nods like she took the exam. “The G-P is very difficult. Even Veronica struggled with it! I think keeping your expectations low is good. Poor Lance can’t seem to figure that out.”

There is a beat of uncomfortable silence.

“Are you staying here tonight?” she continues.

Keith shakes his head. “I’ll get in trouble if I’m gone from the home too much. And I’m kinda on my best behavior since I am trying to get emancipated.”

“What is that?”

“Uh.” Keith looks awkwardly at Marco, who is absolutely fuming, clearly desperate for his turn to talk. “It’s just, like, being a legal adult before I’m eighteen, and then I won’t have to live in a glorified orphanage anymore.”

“Oh,” Mamá puts her hand over her heart sympathetically. “Well, bless you in doing that.” Her eye twitches a little when she sees that Lance is holding his hand. “Mijo, let go of the man and sit down. He has things to do.”

Lance does as he is told, stiff with apprehension. He wants to stay behind Keith. He used to believe that Mami would always protect him from Marco, but he really doesn’t know anymore. He wants Keith to stay.

Keith pats Lance’s shoulder in a reluctant goodbye/good luck.

Everyone left at the table has their arms crossed: Lance because he is uncomfortable, Mamá because she is annoyed, Marco because he is restraining himself from lunging across the table, and Papá because he is amused.

“I assume you know what this is about,” Mamá prompts.

Lance meets Marco’s burning stare and gulps. “Uh, prom?”

“It’s about Vanessa, actually,” Marco growls.

Papá suppresses a laugh.

“Ernesto,” Mamá warns. “Let’s hear what Lance has to say.”

Lance tells them honestly what happened: He asked around for a date, Vanessa took him up on the offer, they did normal prom stuff, and he kissed her before she dropped him off. All of this is technically true. “I swear I didn’t even know her name! Let alone that she dated Marco!”

“You forgot the part where you fucked my fucking girlfriend!” Marco adds.

“Ha!” Papá chuckles. “So you’re my son after all!”

“No!” Mamá gasps like she has been stabbed through the chest with a harpoon. “No! Lance is a virgin!” She turns to Lance anxiously. “Right, mijito?”

“I-'' Lance falters. He needs her on his side. But he has never had his dad on his side. This is weird. At least he knows that he won’t get anywhere by saying he had sex with a boy. He answers carefully: “I have never had sex with a girl, Mamí. I swear.”

Papá continues smiling like he doesn’t believe Lance.

“Are you calling Nessa a liar, then?” Marco accuses. “She told me that you were the first guy to ever make her cum!”

Even Lance—despite his fear—laughs a little at that. He turns his face away from Mamá and hides his mouth. Marco openly admitted that he never made his girlfriend cum!

“I’m a great kisser,” Lance admits. “But my pants stayed on!”

Marco turns several shades darker.

Whoops. Time to divert. “Mami, I was just trying to do what you wanted.”

She keeps her gaze on the table.

“I promise that I didn’t know who she was. We are just friends on Snapchat! We have never even talked.”

“That’s worse!” Mamá laments. “What happened to my angel? Why do you have to be either a faggot or a womanizer?”

Or both, Lance comments in his head.

“Amor,” Papá sighs. “You are getting too worked up about this. How about I deal with it and you take a minute to collect yourself?” It isn’t a request. Mamá stands obediently and leaves. “It’s her worrying like that that made you such a pussy,” he mutters behind her back.

Lance hates when Papá talks to his mom like that. He hates it even more when it benefits him. But what can he do?

Papá gets up to clap Lance on the back. “There are no angels, mijo. In this world, you truly are a womanizer or a faggot. Glad to see you’re on the right path.”

“What?!” Marco fumes. “You’re letting him get away with this?!”

Papá chuckles, leaning over Lance casually but protectively. “It’s not like he did anything wrong. This is what boys are supposed to do!”

Marco appears genuinely hurt. How crazy does the situation have to be that Lance actually wants to defend his brother?

“Oh, don’t start,” Papá groans. “If you’re going to cry, don’t let me see it!”

Marco stomps toward the stairs when Lance finds his voice.

“M-Marco,” he gulps.

Marco pauses, muscles flexing like he’s preparing to swing.

“I’m sorry,” Lance says. “I really didn’t know that she was your-”

“No need to apologize,” Papá turns. “He’ll get over it.” Papá brings back that knowing smile and winks. “I’m proud of you, man.”

Lance goes the rest of the day replaying the conversation. He wants to be happy about what his dad said, but none of it made any sense. He would much rather have his mother’s support than his father’s, but what is he supposed to do about that? She isn’t making sense either. She always praised Lance for being her “sweet and handsome” boy, but now that he is older, the same manners make him “gay and predatory”. Maybe she is just upset that her youngest is growing up.

Lance feels guilty for everything he is putting her through. He can’t be straight for her, but maybe he can show her that he will always be her baby, even if he isn’t so innocent. He apologizes to her later that night, then asks if he can sleep with her through the weekend (partially because he misses her, partially because he is afraid of his brother).

“Aren’t you a little old for that?” she dismisses.

“But-” Lance protests. “You said I would never be too old for cuddles.”

Mamá looks weary, and her mouth twitches like she is thinking about something distasteful. Then she smiles without her eyes. “Of course, niño,” she says. “Come here.”

“Woah ho!” Papá puts his hands up like he’s walking in on something. “Don’t go stealing my woman, boy! Haha!”

Mamá doesn’t think it’s so funny. “Don’t go corrupting my son,” she spits back.

The weekend continues like this: Lance trying to win back his mother’s affections, Papá making everyone uncomfortable with “boy talk”, and Marco prowling in the background, waiting to strike.

At school on Monday, Lance dances around details when relaying the drama to his friends.

“Wow,” Pidge says. “Is this fight so bad that a mommy’s boy like you is lying to his...uh, mommy?”

“I’m not lying! I didn’t sleep with the girl!”

Pidge scowls as she analyzes Lance. Then she makes a bunch of faces that are supposed to be communication.

Lance assumes she is referring to his appearance after prom night. “It wasn’t like you think…”

Pidge looks at the others to gauge their opinions. “I don’t know. I mean, there is what I saw and what you said, but I guess you still act a virgin.”

Keith coughs and crosses his legs. Very casual.

“You think so?” Lance questions, suddenly defensive.

“Please,” Pidge waves. “If you had sex, the only person who wouldn’t know is your mama.”

They all laugh and release some tension.

“It does seem out of character for you to refuse sex with a real-live girl, though,” Hunk points out.

Lance doesn’t like the implication. “It was the night before the-”

Someone grabs his shoulders from behind to talk in his ear. “Sorry about the other night,” Vanessa says. “I didn’t mean to pressure you. I didn’t know you were gay. Thanks anyway!” She kisses his cheek and skips off.

“I’m not-” Lance squeaks after her.

Hunk and Pidge look like the gears in their heads are clicking into place.

“I am not gay,” Lance insists.

Keith grabs his hand under the table to calm him down, but Lance jerks it away and smacks Marco in the face.

Why is-

Marco swings immediately in response, knocking Lance to the ground with such force that his head bounces on the linoleum covered concrete.

Lance knows that he needs to stop this before everyone sees, but he can’t focus.

Marco is on top of him. “‘Never talked’ my ass!” He hits Lance in the face. Right hook. Right elbow. Right hook.

Keith pulls Marco off long enough for Lance to curl into the fetal position and brace himself for the next hit, but it never comes.

Lance peeks through his fingers to see Keith whaling on Marco. Marco is surprised by the assault, but then he collects himself enough to land a hard strike to the side of Keith’s head.

Lance tries to get up to stop them, but it’s like he is trapped under a bunch of really heavy blankets. He is dizzy. He feels sick. He can see the fight happening, but he doesn’t know what is going on anymore.

This isn’t his life right now. This isn’t happening.

He is so embarrassed that he could die.

Hunk picks Lance up like an infant and carries him away from the scene while an administrator and campus police officers break it up.

The principal keeps asking Lance for his side of the story, but the story of what? Nothing is really happening right now besides him holding an ice pack to the side of his face. He is still listening to the principal—he can still hear him anyway—as he leans forward onto the desk and closes his eyes.

Marco and Mamá are here now...though Lance isn't sure when they came in. Keith is on his other side.

“What’s going on?” Lance asks, and Mamá groans.

“Baby, stop saying that.”

Lance curls his legs into the chair and uses an ice pack as a pillow. He wonders what is going on.

“I’m sorry for my boys,” Mamá says, “but I’d rather take care of this at home.”

“I know how boys are,” the principal sighs, “but the issue is that they chose to fight at school and brought another student into this.”

Keith has a big bump on the side of his face.

“What happened to your cheek?” Lance asks.

Keith looks troubled. “I already said, Lance.” He locks eyes with Lance’s mom. “What’s wrong with him?”

“He’s just trying to get out of trouble.”

Someone new is talking. Where did she come from?

“It wasn’t even my fault this time!” Keith tells her.

“It wasn’t your fight,” she emphasizes. She closes her eyes and sighs through her nose. “But you made it your fight. Keith...that’s strike three.”

Keith blanches. “But- No. It can’t- I’ve done everything you said!" He waits for the woman to say something else, but when she doesn't, Keith buries his face in his hands. “Please,” he cries. “You have to get me out of there.”

“I-”

“Is this about emancipation?” Mamá interjects. “Because Keith is such a good kid. This is all my boys’ fighting, not his.”

The lady sighs again. “Keith was pulled out of the foster system because of his violent tendencies. He knew that he’d have to keep his hands clean if he wanted out of the group home, but he chose to fight today anyway.”

“Lance wasn't fighting back,” Keith weeps. "What was I supposed to do?"

Lance grabs Mamá’s arm and leans over to her ear. “What happened to him?” he whispers. "His face..."

Mamá tilts Lance's chin up and stares into his eyes for a minute. “Did you hit your head, baby?”

Lance shrugs.

Mamá sucks her teeth and cradles Lance's head in her lap, holding the ice pack on top.

“If we went to court now,” the other lady continues, “Keith would almost certainly be denied emancipation.”

“And he’s not allowed in foster homes?” Mamá asks.

“It’s more that, with his violent record, no foster homes will take him.”

Mamá sniffles. “I would.” She switches hand holding the ice pack. “I did the training just last year. I was planning to foster after my youngests graduated, but… Please?”

Keith uncovers his face in disbelief.

The lady eyes Marco with distaste. “I don’t think that’s such a good-”

Keith whips around. “Please?” he begs.

After a long moment—or maybe Lance just spaces out again—the woman’s shoulders slump forward. “I’ll see what I can do.”

Chapter Text

In the end, Marco is suspended until graduation, Keith is suspended for one week, and Lance gets two weeks of medical leave for his concussion. Since they are out of school, Lance and Keith have to take the makeup AP Exams. Lance would be glad to have the extra study time, except for the fact that he has a fucking concussion. He can’t focus enough to study on his own, but he also isn’t allowed to passively watch review videos because he can’t look at screens.

At least Mamá kicks Marco out of the house (albeit temporarily). She is so pissed that she sends him to Veronica to help him clean up his act. (“You’re almost twenty years old, Marco! You can’t keep hurting your little brother like this!”). With Marco gone and Lance under his mother’s attentive care, the boy gets plenty of the rest that he needs to recover.

At the end of the first week, Lance still has a persistent headache, and he feels sick when he stands up, but other than that, his symptoms are better. He can pay attention when people are talking to him, however, it takes extra effort.

Mamá explains to Lance how she switched who was in which room so that Keith could technically have his own, but Lance doesn’t take in the information, and it doesn’t matter anyway since Keith stays by Lance’s side when he officially moves in.

Mamá goes back to work, charging Papá and Keith with watching Lance when they aren’t at work or school, respectively.

Keith brings home exam resources for Lance every day and goes through them patiently with the other. It makes Lance feel better, not only academically but also emotionally. He loves the attention from Keith and all the consequent cuddle time from being close enough to read his notes (because Keith hand-wrote everything since Lance can’t look at screens, (◕‿◕♥)).

This is all fine until the night before their Physics exam when they get to the last unit. The longer they stay up (Keith watching a few seconds of the review video, pausing, and explaining everything to Lance with his own drawings), the fuzzier Lance’s brain gets. He wants to cuddle with Keith and watch the video himself—he has been looking at his phone without issue for a couple of days now—but Keith is adamant about following Mamá’s concussion care instructions.

“I need a break,” Lance says eventually. “I’m gonna get some water.”

Keith sets the laptop to the side. “I’ll get it for you.”

“It’s okay,” Lance insists. “I’ve been on this couch for too long. I’ve got it.”

“Okay...I’ll wait here, then.”

Lance wants to quit working altogether and go to bed (and cuddle), but the exam is tomorrow, and Lance still doesn’t understand the topics he neglected in favor of GGPEE prep. He hopes that a glass of water and more headache medicine is enough to get him through the night.

Papá is grumbling around a bottle of tequila at the table when he comes in. It’s weird for him to drink at all on a weeknight, but Lance isn’t going to investigate. He tries to keep his distance because his father is a mean drunk.

Unfortunately, Papá has other ideas, snatching Lance’s wrist and jerking him into a chair.

“What the fuck are you doing to that boy in there?” Papá questions.

Lance keeps his composure. He knows that if he reacts too much, Papá will lash out like an injured beast.

“We’re studying,” Lance states quietly.

Papá slams his phone on the table, making the boy jump. “Don’t fucking lie to me. You were practically in his lap!” he growls, angry spittle splattering Lance in the face. “What the fuck is this, boy?!”

Lance’s breath catches in his throat. The text conversation on Papá’s phone shows pictures of lingerie.

Marco: From Lance’s drawers at Veronica’s

“It looks like underwear… Apparently at Veronica’s apartment,” Lance squeaks.

Papá grabs Lance’s upper arms, digging his nails in and forcing his face toward the phone. “Don’t fucking lie to me again, boy. You recognize your secret fucking stash.” He shakes his head in a mini tantrum. “You’re disgusting. You have a problem. You’re fucking sick. Fucking sick!” He forces his son to stand only to shove him away. “Get the fuck out of my house. I mean it.”

Lance feels panic rising in him. If he leaves now, what will happen to Keith? He needs help diffusing the situation, but Mami isn’t here, and he can’t get Keith involved either. Keith just got here. Lance can’t make a scene.

Lance whimpers silently as Papá advances and pins him to the wall.

“You’re fucking disgusting!” he snarls. “Get the fuck out. Fuck!” He flings his phone to the ground, the screen shattering around Lance’s bare feet. “My coworkers would kill their sons if they even touched a skirt that wasn’t on a girl. And you- You’re obsessed. You’re perverted. You’re sick. I tried to believe you. I wanted to believe you. When your mother told me what you had upstairs, I thought, ‘No way. Not my son.’ I gave you another chance, and you lied to me. What the fuck is wrong with you?”

“I’m sorry,” Lance whispers, eyes welling with tears. “I’m sorry.”

Papá smacks him. “Stop crying like that. You’re a boy, damnit!” He pushes him again. “Not my boy. Get out! The only reason I don’t kill you is your mamá. And don’t fucking touch that boy in there! I know what you’re up to. What you’re tryna do to him. It’s fucking disgusting. You’re sick. You’re sick.” He pulls Lance up by the shirt and hurls him toward the exit. “Get out!”

Lance scrambles back into the living room and hurriedly puts on his shoes and jacket.

“Where are you going?” Keith asks calmly. It seems like he didn’t hear any of that. Good.

“For a walk,” Lance answers shortly. “I need a break.”

Keith starts to get up, saying “I’ll come with you,” but Lance cuts him off.

“No. Don’t touch me!” He doesn’t want to hurt Keith’s feelings, but this is better than Papá finding out—or even thinking—that Keith is gay. “I’m grateful for everything you do for me, but back off! I-I just need some space.”

Keith shrinks back. He doesn’t know how to react to the sudden rejection. “Do you… I’m sorry.” He curls into his quiet-emo mode. “Should I wait up?”

Lance shakes his head. “Just watch the stupid video on your own. I can’t understand it anyway.” He doesn’t give Keith another chance to respond before he rushes out the door. He makes it about a mile speed-walking from his house before he actually processes what just happened, and the tears come flooding out. He cries for another mile until he can’t breathe, kneeling on the sidewalk to sob.

He knows his father would never actually kill him—the fact that he didn’t beat the shit out of Lance tonight proves that—but the loathing and betrayal in his eyes were real. Lance may be a Mommy’s Boy, but he still loves his dad. And his dad doesn’t love him back. His dad hates him.

It hurts more than he ever thought it could.

Lance forces himself to stand and start running. He wants to get away from this. He wants to go back into the closet. He wants to escape from this world and wake up in another. A world where he is straight without pretending. Or a world where he is allowed to love men and wear lace without getting jumped.

He runs so hard that he physically can’t cry at the same time. He runs until he starts to feel better, and then he keeps running until he starts to feel worse. His vision fades in and out until Lance eats shit, vomiting on the side of the highway when he comes to.

When his guts are empty, he crumples on the rocks, breathing hard, his head throbbing dangerously. He squints his eyes to check his phone and sees that he was heading toward Veronica. He made it quite a ways for only being out here a little more than an hour. He almost calls his sister to pick him up when he remembers that Marco is at her place. Going there right now would be like playing soccer with a concussion.

Or running six miles with a concussion, haha.

Wait, this could actually be really bad. But it’s probably not, right?

Lance takes three deep breaths for his brain. This is probably fine. He has been recovering for two whole weeks now. His concussion is probably fine. This is probably a normal dehydration headache.

He checks his phone again. There are a couple of messages from Keith along the lines of “I’m worried about you; not trying to bother you; I’m going to sleep, but I’ll wake up if you need anything”.

Lance smiles sadly. He wants to call on Keith, but he wants to protect the other even more.

Lance closes the messages, switching back to the map. It is only 9:30 now, and if he walks home, Papá will surely be asleep by the time he gets there, Mamá will be home from work, but it will take three hours. If he runs, he could cut that time in half, but he can’t run anymore.

He sits up, confirming that he cannot run in this state; he doesn’t think he could walk for three hours either. He wishes he had water. His body needs it, but he also wants to clean his mouth. He searches his pockets hopefully for a piece of gum, coming up only with a random sheet of folded notebook paper.

No. Not random. It’s the paper from Takashi!

Lance hesitates briefly before typing the number. He feels gross and ugly right now, but he is so desperate for an escape. As the phone rings, Lance braces himself for something to go wrong.

Click.

“Hello?”

“Ha! Hi!” Lance grins, falling comfortably into his Lover Boy persona. “Is this Takashi?”

“Shirogane, yeah… Who is this?”

“Ah, it’s Laaaaaa- Leo, sorry.”

“Wha…? Oh!” the other perks up. “Sorry, I thought you were someone from school; I was so confused. But I haven’t seen anything from you since we met last month. I was starting to worry something happened. What’s up, baby?”

Lance giggles at the name, determined to conceal that something did happen. “I’ve been busy studying lately, so I haven’t been online as much. Sorry about that.”

“It’s fine as long as you’re okay.”

Warmth rises in Lance’s cheeks. Takashi is so considerate. “I’m actually wondering if you live near Cielo Libre...and if you would maybe consider possibly picking me up?”

“For sex? Or to film?”

“Just sex. Or- anything you want, really.” Lance knows that he has a test tomorrow, but he doesn’t know where else to go. What else to do. He is trying not to sound desperate at the same time as being very extremely desperate.

Takashi clicks his tongue in mock consideration. “I suppose I will come get you. Where are you?”

Lance sends his location, and Takashi is there in fifteen minutes.

“I threw up,” Lance confesses immediately. “I’m sorry.”

Instead of being grossed out, Takashi quirks his mouth in concern, offering his water bottle. “Take this. Are you hungover? And why are you alone out here?”

“I’m not old enough to drink,” Lance says without thinking. He does some quick math to see that this checks out with his story, but he scolds himself mentally for getting too comfortable. “I’m just...stressed. And Keith has an exam tomorrow, so I didn’t want to bother him…. You’re not busy, are you?”

“I’ll never be too busy for you.” Takashi looks kind of sad and longing for a second before he drives Lance to his “apartment” in the city to let him shower (and shave) and brush his teeth.

“Are you so rich that you really think this huge-ass penthouse at the top of this fancy-ass building with a breathtaking view of the sunset over the desert is an apartment?!” Lance accuses as he comes out of the bathroom in Takashi’s fancy-ass silk fucking robe.

Takashi smiles, amused, as he hands Lance the second glass of water the boy requested. “It’s technically an apartment,” he defends.

Lance sits on the king-size bed, freezes, and then reclines slowly, sinking into the mattress (careful of his water). “Wow, what the fuck?”

“What now?”

“Why didn’t you take me here to fuck me?”

Takashi places the glass on the bedside table and crawls over Lance. “Did I not?”

They laugh and kiss.

“That was a joke, though,” Takashi clarifies. “It’s okay if you stay here and we don’t have sex. I would rather you feel better than I.”

Lance frames Takashi’s hips with his naked legs, silk slipping down his freshly-shaved body. “I think you can make me feel better.” He knows this is a bad idea right now—He doesn’t need any more excitement or exertion tonight—but- like...it’s better than crying over his daddy (father?) issues. He stretches and clicks the lamp off with his foot so that only the moon lights him as Takashi exposes Lance’s skin to leave gentle love bites between the boy’s bruises.

Takashi is perfect and attentive. The sex is soft and slow and sweet, and Takashi does all of the work. When Lance cums, everything—all his problems, all his pain—disappears.

Takashi cleans them up with baby wipes as Lance embraces this peaceful feeling.

“That was a nice study break,” Takashi notes when he lays down again.

Lance hums in agreement.

“Are you done with your finals?”

Lance rolls over to nuzzle the other. “No.” He slides his hand down and laces his fingers in Takashi’s. “I’m so fucked for my exam tomorrow.”

Takashi sits up suddenly. “Tomorrow? What? What subject? What time?”

“Physics 1... at eight A.M.”

Takashi watches Lance for a minute to see if he is serious. Then he rubs his hand down his face. “Well, I do happen to have a Master’s in Physics. Maybe…” He pauses to sigh and affectionately muss Lance’s hair. “We could wake up early and see if I can help?”

Lance is so bad at getting up before the sun, but Takashi is determined, carrying Lance to his desk at four in the morning, making him tea and oatmeal, and walking him through how to fake understanding on a Physics exam. (“You have an equations sheet, so stick to that. When you simplify Physics to this level, everything conceptual can be explained algebraically.”) He even washes Lance’s clothes for him.

“Thank you for taking care of me,” Lance simps when it’s time for him to go.

Takashi also simps, caressing Lance’s cheek where his father hit him the night before. “That’s what daddies are supposed to do, right?” he winks.

Lance laughs to entertain the joke, but he is overwhelmed by the irony. He covers Takashi’s hand with his own and leans into it, hoping to hide his grief. “Right.”

Chapter Text

Lance gets to the testing room fifteen minutes before the make-up exam is supposed to start (He had Takashi drop him off at the community college a mile from his high school), and Keith glares silently as he hands in his phone and shuffles to his seat.

During the exam, Lance finds that he really can do every problem by simply matching units to equations, and he starts to feel pretty good about himself.

After the exam, Keith corners him, pissed off and relieved at the same time. “Do you know how many times your mom and I called you?”

“Nope,” Lance smirks. “My phone is off.”

Keith is not amused. “Where were you?” he interrogates seriously. “What happened?”

Lance fingers the hickey at his collar. “I went to see Takashi,” he answers honestly. “I couldn’t masturbate for two whole weeks with Mamá watching me! I was stopped up. Y’know?”

“But-” Keith gasps. “I could have- I mean- You know I would have-“

“What. You want to suck my dick?” Lance scoffs. “You want to hide in the bathroom on your knees while Marco plays videogames upstairs? You want him to catch us and kill us both and then kick you out? ‘Cause no way. It can’t be like that in my house. You can’t be like that at my house. You have to-”

“Stop! Let me finish!” Keith grunts. “I-I was saying that I could have gone with you, jerk! Don’t freak out on me! You can’t just run off alone with a random creep like you did. Anything could have happened—stuff worse than anything Marco could do. And I-I get that your sick of me, and you don’t want me to touch you, or be gay around you, or whatever, but I don’t want anything to happen to you! I-I still want to protect you.”

Lance gesticulates in frustration. “I want to protect you, too! I know it wasn’t without risk to go with him, but I didn’t feel like I had another option! It was your head or mine, Keith. I really mean it about my house. We can’t be all buddy-buddy there. They already know about me, and it’s bad, but if they find out about you—I mean, I’m only okay because I like girls too—but I don’t know what they might do to you.” He crosses his arms and resists the urge to take Keith’s hands. “I’m not sick of you. I love...to be around you. We just can’t at my house.”

“Okay.”

“Okay?”

“Yeah. Fine.”

“We’re fine.”

“We’re good.”

“Okay, good.”

When the semester ends, Keith gets a job so that he and Lance are not in the house together as much since he sticks to Lance like a shy toddler when anyone comes downstairs, and they still share the couch bed (100% heterosexual pillow border in place, of course).

Lance didn’t tell anyone what happened with his dad, and it seems like Papá didn’t tell anyone either. If they happen to be in the same room—something they both avoid—then they ignore each other completely.

Lance keeps himself entertained by texting Takashi (in his phone as “Physics Tutor”) at all hours. He shares an unwise amount of information, but he trusts Takashi, and he is desperate for positive attention.

Just when Lance gets used to this new normal, Veronica kicks Marco out of her place and sends him back to Mamá’s.

“I’m sorry,” Veronica apologizes to Lance. “I just can’t handle him. And Acxa really can’t. I kept thinking they were going to kill each other if I left them alone.”

Now he can kill me instead, Lance thinks glumly.

His dole must show on his face because Veronica sighs and admits, “I don’t feel good about him being here with you, either.” She checks to make sure they are alone. “He was so mad when- Wait. The full story. When he got to my place, I gave him the guest room, duh, and told him the same story I told you at first. I told him not to mess with the stuff that you had in there, and I don’t know what he misunderstood, but then I walked in on him jerking himself off with your underwear, and he was like, ‘I thought this was Acxa’s,’ and then he got so angry—like, red like a cartoon character—and he started going off about how you are trying to fuck his friends and make them gay and a whole lot of homophobic bullshit that I don’t want to repeat. Basically, he was telling me that he was finally going to get you for having this shit and that Mami couldn’t hide it anymore. Then I swore that it was all my stuff, and I yelled at him for jerking off in it, even if he thought it was Acxa’s, and then he had the audacity to make a move on my girlfriend, and Acxa was like, ‘I’m a lesbian, you piece of shit,’ and Marco pulled me aside later and told me that I should kick her out and that she was trying to fuck me, and then I was like, ‘That’s my girlfriend, you piece of shit,’ and basically, I just can’t deal with him anymore.” She pauses to breathe and massage her brow. “I washed your underwear, by the way, if you want-”

“Just burn it,” Lance instructs. He is so repulsed that he doesn’t know exactly how to show it. “I don’t want to know which one or how or why. Just get rid of it. I don’t want that one anymore.”

Ronni nods. She leans back, taking a deeper breath. “I feel kind of bad gaslighting him—especially since Mamá is doing it too—but, like, I much rather he be confused than beating you up.”

Lance wilts knowing that Marco vehemently believes Lance is gay and should be punished for it. Even before he thought that, however, he always found a reason to beat Lance. No amount of gaslighting will change that dynamic.

“Hey,” Veronica nudges, “if it’s any consolation, I told Marco that I had pics of what he did to you upstairs and that if he touched you at all, then I’d call the cops on his ass.”

Lance’s stomach twists suddenly with fear and guilt and a conviction to never let that happen. He doesn’t want the cops to come. He doesn’t want Marco to be arrested. He can’t think of a reason why. The only thing he knows is that it will be his fault if Marco gets in trouble, and he is afraid of that.

“Lance,” Veronica repeats. “Snap out of it.”

“What?”

“I think you should come back to the city with me.” She pulls him into an embrace and cradles his head like he is a baby. “It’s summer. There’s no need for you to stay here right now. And Marco is worse than ever. I can’t even convince myself that I love him as he is.”

Lance hides his face on her arm. He wants to leave with her. He wants to be himself and have fun again. He wants to let Marco and Papá and even Mamá cool down for a while but, “I can’t.”

Ronni stiffens. “It’s not your job to make Mamá feel like a good mother when she can’t even-”

“That’s not it,” Lance defends. “It’s Keith.”

“What? I thought we liked Keith.”

“Oh, we love Keith. That’s why I have to stay here. At least until he turns eighteen...or goes to the Garrison. I won’t risk him getting taken away because of me. He has worked too hard to get here. And he...he’s there for me.”

"Oh, Lance," Veronica snuggles. “If you think you can get through it, I will support you. But know that you can always change your mind. Acxa even said that you could move in with us if it meant Marco wouldn't come back.” She sits up to face him. “Anyway… We love Keith?”

Lance blushes. “Yes.” Then he sighs. “But no one can know. You know why.”

Veronica smiles sympathetically. “Just trust that things will get better after you move out and have more autonomy, hermanito. Soon, you can be open about everything that you have to hide now.”

Well, Lance notes, not everything.

He ends up having another auction before he can stream again. The winner is a self-proclaimed bear from Iowa who throws in an extra $1000 after he wins so that he can fist Lance.

The boy accepts the terms. Sure, it has been a while since he has used any serious toys, but he knows his ass has the capacity to stretch two or three inches.

He looks at his own slender hand, wincing at the thought of forcing it in past his knuckles. He orders an anal training set of plugs, a bottle of his favorite lube, and a douche made specifically for anal fisting. Where he will store them when they arrive, he has no clue, but he takes to fingering himself with coconut oil in the shower in the meantime.

Keith takes off work, Veronica buys them a hotel room in Iowa, and Lance and Keith tell Mamá that they are staying at Veronica’s over the weekend.

The farther they get from home, the lighter Lance feels. He starts to open up at Veronica’s, but Keith doesn’t reciprocate any of his jokes or banter.

“Are you nervous?” Lance asks as they double-check their luggage before they fly out.

Keith doesn’t answer, pretending to be very interested in the ingredients of the lube.

“Do you think it would be weird if I started keeping my sex toys at my sister's apartment?

“Yes.” Keith places the lube in the check bag “Especially since Marco or your mom will find out eventually.”

Lance falls back, disappointed by Keith’s mute reactions. “You don’t have to watch tonight if you don’t want to, you know.”

“I’m not going to leave you alone with a stranger...again.” Keith shakes his head and zips up the bags. “I hated not knowing what was happening last time. But also...” Finally, he looks at Lance—his face and tone remaining serious except for the slightest suggestive quirk of his eyebrow. “...maybe I want to see”

That catches Lance’s attention. “Oh, yeah?” He crawls across the bed grinning even though Keith is intentionally averting his gaze now. “I’ll be sure to give you a good show.”

Lance wears the smallest plug on the way to the airport (kind of awkward since Ronni is dropping them off), switches to the next size up after security (uncomfortable in the cramped airplane, but adoring Keith whisper the words to his music distracts him well enough), and starts cleaning himself out as soon as they get to the hotel (with digital check-in, babyy).

While he is back there, he can feel what he is missing with his razor, but he just can’t get it.

“Keith,” he lilts, poking his head out of the bathroom. “We’re close, right?”

Keith sets down his phone skeptically. “When it’s convenient for you, yes.”

Ouch. “Um, do you want to maybe help me shave, then? ‘Cause that sure would be convenient.”

Keith tries really hard to not react. “Yeah, sure,” his voice cracks.

Lance leans over the toilet and spreads his cheeks as Keith works. He thinks this feeling of something between mortification and thrill is mutual. He hopes it is.

“Perfect,” Keith remarks eventually. Then he laughs. “I almost chef-kissed your ass! Oh my god, haha!”

Lance chuckles awkwardly. He is so happy to see Keith happy, though. “You can if you want,” he offers.

Keith spanks him lightly instead as he stands. “You need to get dressed.” He picks up the plug that Lance wore on the airplane (thank god Lance cleaned it already). “Do you want help with this too?”

Lance blushes. “Ah, sure. It’s this one, though,” he gestures to the largest plug.

Keith’s eyes widen comically. “I thought that was a weird soap bottle! There’s no way it is going to fit inside you.”

“Compare it to your fist.”

Keith sees that his fist is even bigger and whimpers. “You… You’re crazy.”

“Crazy for you,” Lance laughs, leaning over the toilet again. Nice comeback.

He does his best not to moan as Keith lubes him up and slowly pushes the toy in, gently gripping Lance’s hip for leverage.

“Are you sure this is okay?” Keith asks, his breath brushing Lance’s shoulders.

“Mmm,” Lance hums in affirmation, shifting his hips to adjust to the plug.

They continue working together to get Lance dressed and made up. Lance gets so fucking horny under Keith’s soft touches, especially after abstaining for so long at his house.

When they go to the room next door to set up the camera, Lance takes every opportunity to “accidentally” brush Keith’s hand.

Then the bear arrives, and it’s back to business.

“You’re taller than I thought you’d be,” the bear notes cheerfully, looking up from where he stands at five-foot-six.

Lance kisses him on both cheeks in greeting. “I guess it’s a good thing I’ll be on my hands and knees, then,” he purrs in his ear.

Relative to the bear’s height, his hands are big and meaty. He is strong too, manhandling (with express permission) Lance into position when it is time to stream.

He admires Lance’s outfit, he admires Lance’s body, and he especially admires the big black plug in his ass.

Lance may or may not play up the submissive compliance of his persona since Keith is watching. He is like a perfect little sex doll come to life.

He giggles as the bear teases the plug out of his ass. He hums as the bear fingers him, adding another finger every twenty seconds. Lance starts moaning for real when the bear finger-fucks him harder. He blushes, making eye-contact with Keith. He can’t stop moaning.

Keith blushes too, but in a way that is more sexy than helpless. He looks on the scene before him with casual intrigue, leaning on his arm like he is passing judgment.

The bear finally coaxes his entire fist inside of Lance’s lube-saturated rectum. He only gives Lance a second to adjust before thrusting vigorously.

Lance cries out, kicks the bear instinctively, and covers his hole with his hand. He is on the precipice of an orgasm, but this is far more intense than he imagined. He doesn’t know if he can handle it.

The bear comes back, tracing light circles up Lance’s thighs, and convinces him to continue.

Lance buries his face in the pillows, drooling, crying, mewling. His body tenses naturally, and then he forces himself to relax as orgasm after orgasm is wrung out of him.

When the bear has his entire meaty forearm inside of the boy, Lance feels so utterly dominated that he doesn’t dare breathe without permission. He likes this feeling, but he is scared at the same time. He invited the bear into his ass, yet he feels violated. He reminds himself that this is what he wanted: to be loved. How can he be disappointed by the lack of intimacy when this bear is literally closer to him than anyone has ever been?

He keeps his head down to hide his distress, focussing on the intense ecstasy of something so big and powerful overwhelming his poor prostate. Lance keeps thinking that he can’t withstand another second of fisting, but then he cums again, and he doesn’t want it to stop.

When it is officially over, however, he is 100% done, collapsing in the puddle of his cum without the bear’s arm holding him up.

The bear fucks Lance’s limp body, cums himself, and then leaves before the stream is even over.

Keith helps Lance clean up; “helps” meaning he carries Lance to the bathroom and lets him rest in the shower while he takes down the filming equipment, then washes Lance inside and out, carries him to their other room, and tucks him into bed.

Lance pretends that Keith is the one who fucked him like this and stuck around for aftercare. “I love you,” he smiles, blissed out of his mind.

Keith just blinks back.

“You’re my best friend," Lance remembers. "I love you.”

“You know what you are to me?” Keith questions.

“What?”

“Confusing.” His expression ranges from thoughtful to hurt to wry. “I love you too.”

Lance thinks they are about to kiss. He closes his eyes and puckers up only for Keith to crawl into the second bed and go to sleep.

Chapter Text

It is difficult for Lance to think about Keith normally after that night. His feelings for the other are a torrent of lust and fondness that is hard to hide.

Lance doesn’t even notice when Mamá comes into the kitchen because he is busy ogling at Keith from across the room.

“What are you doing?” Mamá asks. By the tone of her voice, you would think Lance was fondling Keith in front of God and everybody.

“Just…” Lance pushes down his hurt by her demeanor. He reminds himself that Keith is absolutely off-limits here. “I was spacing out… I’m nervous about GGPEE scores tomorrow.”

“Oh…” Mamá sits slowly at the table, keeping her skeptical eyes on Lance the entire time. “Don’t get your hopes up.”

Lance doesn’t know how to respond. His body tingles with the desire to leave the room.

This is so awkward.

Mamá used to be his best friend. They used to talk about everything together. They used to be so comfortable with each other. But now their relationship is so fragile that one wrong move could shatter it completely. That’s how Lance feels, anyway.

Mamá bites her lips, a distressed hiccup stuttering her sigh. She reveals a pamphlet that she was worrying under the table and begins to worry it where Lance can see. “I went to a meeting in town, uh-”

She turns away from Keith (who definitely can’t hear them from the living room anyway) and lowers her voice.

“There is a group in town for parents with kids who are- who think they might be, um, B-L...T-A...plus.” She meets Lance’s eyes. “Marco told me that you are hiding more panties at your sister’s apartment.” She shakes her head in teary helpless confusion. “You keep saying, ‘This is who I am; I can’t help it,’ but you are making choices, Lance. You are making strange and upsetting choices that are bad for you, and you’re bringing everyone down with you. I think you should consider something like this,” she says, sliding over the pamphlet.

It reads, “Addressing Sexual Addictions and Disorders: Reparative Therapy for Young Men Afflicted with Same-Sex Attraction.”

I.e., conversion therapy.

Lance balks at his mother. Is this right? Is this real?

He reads the front again. He scans the inside flaps for different information only to be met with bolded phrases like “You Don’t Have To Be Gay” and “Boys Will Not Be Girls”.

Does she have the same idea of conversion therapy that Lance does? Is this even legal?

A helpful paragraph on the back informs Lance that conversion therapy is, in fact, legal in Arizona.

“What is that face?” Mamá asks. “What are you thinking?” She is serious about this.

“Wha-What happened to ‘We’ll just pretend’?” Lance whimpers. “I thought- What even is this supposed to be?”

“I’m just trying to help you, baby. You’re not doing anything yourself to get better. I mean, how hard is it to dress like a boy? Where are you even getting these clothes and makeups?”

“Moisturizer isn’t makeup!” Lance whispers exasperatedly. “I keep buying more because I need it to take care of myself, and you keep throwing it away!”

“You don’t need it! That’s the problem! Your head is so messed up that you- Ay!” She rubs her face. “The point is, you need to talk to someone who understands what is wrong with you. I know this kind of camp doesn’t really work if you’re against it, so it is your choice to go or not, but I really want you to actually think about it. I only want you to be right again, mijo. Just consider it. Please. What if it helps?”

And what if it hurts?

“Wouldn’t your life be better if you didn’t have to ‘pretend’ to be normal?”

“Lance,” Keith addresses, poking his head in the kitchen, “Hunk is here.”

Lance does his best to pull a smile. “Okay. Tell him I’ll be there in a second. I still have to pack my bathroom stuff.”

He turns back to his mom when Keith leaves. He is extremely opposed to conversion therapy一especially because he knows it doesn’t work一but he believes Mamá is genuine in her concern. He shouldn’t penalize her for trying her best with the information that she has.

“I...I’ll think about it,” he promises.

Then he hurries into the bathroom with his backpack. He jumps when the door closes behind him.

Marco turns the light on and holds out his hand. “Let me see the bag.”

“What?” Lance gasps. “No! Let me out.”

Marco snatches the bag anyway and promptly dumps its contents, kicking them around the floor.

“What the fuck?” Lance complains. He starts to pick it all up, but Marco pushes him back.

“What kind of underwear are you wearing?” he demands.

“Oh my god. None of your business!” Lance shrieks.

He should have just told his brother about his briefs because Marco takes that as his cue to shove Lance against the counter and pants him so that he can see for himself. Then, much to Lance’s horror, Marco takes down Lance’s underwear too.

“Stop-!”

“What the hell?” Marco snickers. “You look like a little bitch from the back!” He squeezes Lance’s hips to emphasize his point, but Lance swings out of his grip, covering himself with his hands and tripping on the pants around his ankles.

“STOP!” Lance screams from the floor.

Marco cracks up, thoroughly pleased with himself for getting such a reaction from his little brother. “Hey, you’re the one who hoards girl’s underwear like a freak! And boys have hair, idiot. Making yourself look like that… What did you expect to happen?” He steps on as much of Lance’s stuff as he can when he leaves, laughing all the way.

Lance pulls his pants up and swallows his tears. Hunk and Keith are waiting for him. He haphazardly stuffs everything into his bag and runs out the door.

“Freaking finally!” Hunk groans playfully. “I was about to send Keith in again to check on you!”

“Huh. Sorry,” Lance tries. He lays down in the back and cradles his bag.

“Are you alright back there, buddy?” Hunk asks.

“Yeah! Sorry!” Lance perks up. “I- uh, haha, yeah. I dropped my bag on the way out, so that’s why I took so long.” He manages a genuine grin, albeit one of duping delight.

Lance takes a hot shower as soon as they get to the Holt House(™). He wishes he could burn his skin as easily as his underwear since Marco touched it like that. Even freshly clean, he feels gross. He tucks the dull fabric of his new briefs between his cheeks to imitate a thong. It isn’t pretty, but he feels a little better.

You look like a little bitch from the back.

Lance likes that, he thinks. He likes the parts of his body that are feminine and pretty. He follows his hips from his thin waist to his bulge in the front. He thinks they complement each other. He likes the masculine parts of his body too. And that’s the problem, he supposes. People hate the gray area in which he falls. The queer as in strange. He is a fetish to the people who want him and a freak to the people who don’t.

He frowns soberly at his reflection. He doesn’t want to play this part in this world. He wants to be normal. He likes girls and sports and airplanes, so why does he need boys and makeup and lingerie too? Why can’t he be normal? He grips the counter and stares at the drain in the sink.

Maybe Mamá is right. Maybe his head is messed up. Why else would he keep acting in a way that he knows is wrong and will get him hurt? He doesn’t need sex toys and girl clothes… There must be something wrong with him if he keeps going out of his way to deviate from the normal he wishes he was.

Overhearing his name reminds him where he is. He finishes getting dressed as he listens.

“Are you and Lance getting along okay?” Hunk asks in the living room. “It can be hard on a friendship when the situation changes so drastically, like moving in together.”

“I don’t think I could take it if I had to listen to him yap about girls all day everyday!” Pidge laughs.

“I…” Keith starts. “I was worried about something like that at first, but he is really different at home. I kind of feel bad about being annoyed by his antics in the past. Like, everything I thought I didn’t like about him- I understand why he is like that now. A lot of it is out of his control. I think he’s just...doing his best to make everyone happy.”

Lance hesitates to leave when he is ready. He doesn’t want to eavesdrop, but it would be super weird if he walked out right now.

“I feel closer to him than I have to anyone in my entire life, I think,” Keith confesses.

Lance leans his head against the door smiling. Sweet boy.

“Is Lance really so different at home?” Hunk asks. “I know he is good at the fake-happy thing, but I thought he did that for his family too.”

Keith clicks his tongue. “I don’t know how much to say, but I think it’s harder for Lance to keep face when he doesn't have his own space to collect himself. That, and Marco—who has always been a dick in general—just won’t leave Lance alone, and Lance can’t even hide away in his room because he doesn’t have one.”

“Wait, what?” Pidge asks. “He doesn’t have a room?”

“Yeah…?”

“Isn’t that abuse?”

Lance assumes Keith is shrugging his shoulders. “I know that I have to have my own room since I’m a foster kid, but I think it’s different if you have a lot of siblings or something. Legally, Lance shares a room with Marco, but, like, ew. I would rather be homeless than share a room with him.”

“Because of the library-concussion incident?” Hunk asks.

“Not even. Marco and I go back, kinda. We were buddies in middle school; ended up in ISS together a lot. But I want nothing to do with him now because- Well, because of a lot of things.”

Lance is shook. Keith and Marco were friends?! How? How could someone so cool and kind engage with someone so stupid and mean?

“All I know about Marco,” Pidge says, “other than the concussion thing, obviously—is that he is bad with women and hates the gays. Worse than Lance.”

There is an awkward beat of silence before Keith questions, “Are you saying Marco hates Lance more than Marco hates gay people, or are you implying that Lance hates the gays?”

Pidge winces audibly. “The latter? I used to think he was cool with LGBT biz, but I’ve been getting subtle homophobic vibes from him lately. I don’t think he hates the gays, per se. Just that-”

“Can we not talk bad about Lance behind his back?” Hunk requests. “Let’s just wait until he is done in the bathroom. I want to talk about LGBT biz anyway.”

“Speak of the devil, and he shall appear. All done with your routine, princess?”

Lance stands still for a second too long, like he is on stage and has forgotten his line. “I’m not gay if that’s what you guys were talking about.” Slick.

“No. That’s okay!” Hunk says. “But… Do you want to sit down, buddy?”

Lance sits on the same couch as Keith but on the opposite end. He is on edge. He feels like he is about to get in trouble.

“So,” Hunk laughs awkwardly. “I just…” He plants his feet and folds his hands. “I want to come out to you guys.”

Lance gasps on accident. He tries to cover it up with a cough, but that doesn’t do anything for the apprehension in his eyes. “What? I mean...go ahead,” Lance says. “I mean- You don’t have to. I don’t really care. You don’t have to say it if you don’t want to.”

Pidge gives Hunk a regretful “I told you so” look.

“I want to,” Hunk tells Lance. “So...I’m pansexual. For me, it means that I don’t really care about the gender of a person; I just...love them.”

Lance sighs in relief. It honestly makes sense that Hunk is pan. His heart is too big to leave someone out because of their gender. Pansexuality should be easy to hide, too. As long as- “You’re not a faggot, are you?”

Everyone flinches.

Hunk is beyond disappointed. “What?”

“No!” Lance backtracks. “I just mean, like, you’re not a faggot as in, like, on-your-knees-for-daddy kind of gay. Are you?”

“Does it matter?”

Lance starts to panic. “Yes, it matters! Dude. You’re big and black and now you’re queer too! If people find out you’re a fag, they aren’t going to like it. They hate people like-“ He almost says “like us”.

“Bro,” Pidge scolds, “if you say the F-A-G-word one more time, I’m going to throw this fucking thing of coasters at you.”

“What are you even trying to say?” Keith asks, more confused than angry.

“Just that-“ Lance knows he seems like a dick, but he is scared for Hunk. “It’s not that you’re pan. It would be better if you were straight, but I know that’s not the part that you can control.”

That doesn’t get anyone on his side.

“It’s about how you act and present,” he continues. “Those are the choices, right? So act normal, and no one can get mad about what they don’t know. I just don’t want anything to happen to you man.”

“Hold on,” Pidge says. “Go back. What kind of choice is it if it’s between being your authentic self and ‘acting normal’ at the expense of crawling in your skin?”

“Um...” Lance crosses his arms. “If you convince yourself that’s the case, I don’t know. Isn’t it more between hating yourself and everyone else hating you? I think if you have to be a fa- um...bottom?, then it should be a secret.”

“I’m coming out because I don’t want to hide this part of myself anymore,” Hunk says. “I don’t hate myself, and I don’t want to live in fear of what people will think if they find out. I don’t have to worry if there is no secret.”

“But-“ Lance flounders. “It- People will say it’s wrong! It’s gross! No one wants to know about what you do in the bedroom!”

“I’m not doing anything in the bedroom.” Hunk is clearly upset, but his uncertainty keeps him calm. “That’s not even the point. All I want is for you to acknowledge my sexuality. You don’t have to support me if you’re so against-”

“I do support you!” Lance interrupts. “But what am I supposed to do if someone attacks you?! They hate you. They really hate you. The people you thought would love you no matter what don’t want you anymore. What are you supposed to do now? And if they see it? If they know? They won’t even see you as a person anymore. Oh my god, Hunk. What about your parents? You shouldn’t tell them. Please don’t tell them. What if they-”

“I already told them…”

Lance’s breath catches in his throat. “What? What did they do? A-Are you okay?” He imagines sweet, innocent Hunk being screamed at, being trapped in his room and then kicked out of it completely, being beaten up and then scorned for causing trouble, being chastised and harassed for making bad choices.

“I’m good… They said they were proud of me. Both of them.”

Lance blinks back in shock. Hunk’s parents are proud of him? Why? For being queer? For coming out? How? How could they accept something they believe is fundamentally wrong? Unless they don’t think it’s wrong.

That thought makes Lance start to shake. The idea of acceptance from his family was a dream, he knew, but pride? Imagining it makes him consider how bad their reaction really was. But his family is so normal! Lance is the one who is out of line. He wishes he agreed that what he did was wrong. He wishes what he did wrong was something he could fix.

But Hunk’s parents don’t think anything is wrong with their son. How could Lance’s family—a good and loving family—act like Lance has committed the greatest evil if he was completely innocent?

“How could they?” Lance asks.

Hunk stands up. “I’m done with this. I’m sorry. I just need a minute.” He steps outside, but Lance doesn’t stop talking.

“My mom would never be proud that I was a faggot. She’ll never accept that. She can’t! It’s just unacceptable!”

“Ugh!” Pidge grunts angrily. “If your mom wouldn’t accept you if you were gay, maybe she doesn’t love you as much as you think!”

Lance whimpers like he has been skewered through the gut. All his energy drains out of him. His head feels light. His body is heavy. He can’t breathe. “My mom-“

“Pidge!” Keith scolds. “Why the fuck would you say that?!”

Lance tries to go back to the bathroom, but he ends up crumpling behind the couch to cry. “I always thought- She always said- But now-“

“I didn’t mean that,” Pidges says.

“Lance, come on.” Keith jumps over the couch to join Lance on the floor. “You know your mom loves you.” He tries to get Lance to look at him, but the other is in his own world. His own hell.

“No she doesn’t. She doesn’t want me like this. I thought it would be okay. She said she would try. And I would try. But I can’t do it! I don’t-“ He chokes on his tears. “I don’t want this! I tried to hide it, and then I tried to change it. It’s not enough! I can’t- But I don’t want to go to conversion therapy!”

“You don’t have to go. There is nothing wrong with you. Come on. No one wants you to change.”

“No. Keith. My mom wants me to go! She gave me a fucking pamphlet! She thinks I’m sick!”

“But you don’t have to go! I won’t let that happen. Your sister won’t let that happen! It’ll be okay.”

“But what am I supposed to do for Mami? I can’t lose her, Keith.”

“You won’t lose her. She loves you, Lance. She wants to understand you. She really does. We talk every morning. She’ll change for you. That sort of thing just takes a little longer when you care what people think. But she won’t let you go. No matter what.”

Lance clings to the hope Keith gives him, but it seems like such a long shot. “It’s so hard to be around her right now, but it’s the only thing I want.”

“I know it’s hard.”

“She’s disgusted by me.”

“She doesn’t understand. But you can help her come around.”

“I’m not like Love-fucking-Simon,” Lance sniffs. “I’m a dirty fucking whore.”

“Heh. I know. And it’s okay.”

“I wish I was straight.”

“No.”

“I wish I was a girl.”

“...Really?”

“I wish I was dead!” Lance sobs.

“Stop that.” Keith wraps his arms around Lance and nuzzles his head. “There is nothing wrong with you. And the only thing you’ve done wrong is put yourself in danger.” Keith squeezes tighter. “I won’t let anything happen to you. I promise. Anything I can do for you, I will.”

Lance cries knowing Keith can’t keep that promise. “I don’t want you to leave next year,” he admits.

“I won’t.”

“But if you get into the Garrison, and I don’t-”

“Then I won’t go.” Keith lays on his side next to Lance, who stares in disbelief. “If you don’t get in, we’ll wait until I turn eighteen in October, and we’ll figure it out. I won’t leave you.”

Lance hides his face in Keith’s chest and keeps crying until he apparently falls asleep.

He doesn’t feel better in the morning, but he makes himself apologize to Hunk. “Sorry I freaked out on you, man. I promise I wasn’t talking about you.”

Hunk takes a long sip of his coffee. “I don’t want to tell you it’s okay because I’m not cool with what you said, but I’m okay.”

Lance leaves it at that. He doesn’t want to confront himself and the things he said last night. He doesn’t know what to do with it.

Pidge walks in the kitchen looking worse than Lance. Then she hugs him, the top of her head only coming to the middle of Lance’s chest.

“What’s this?” he asks.

She mumbles something in his shirt that he doesn’t understand, and then she turns her head and he hears, “I never want you to cry again.”

He pats her head in surprise. “I try really hard not to.”

“Well stop it,” Hunk says. “We’re your friends. You can tell us when something is bothering you, and we’ll help you through it. You don’t have to pretend in front of us.” He looks at the ceiling and huffs. “If you have to cry, at least lets us be there to comfort you.”

Lance squeezes Pidge and leans his head on Hunk’s shoulder. He has really good friends.

Hunk holds Lance’s head with his hand and holds his other arm out to Keith, who is smiling fondly at the table. “Get in on this, buddy.”

When Keith joins the group hug, Pidge’s dad walks in with his hands up in surrender. “I’m seein’ tears and hugs. Does that mean the scores are good or bad?”

“Wait. What time is it?” Pidge tears out of the middle of the hug. “Oh my god! Scores dropped two minutes ago!”

Everyone quickly logs into the Garrison portal on their phones.

“Oh no,” Pidge grins rather creepily with her post-crying face. “I missed two questions.”

“Woohoo!” her dad cheers. “That’s amazing, Katie!”

Lance rolls his eyes happily. Little gremlin genius.

“Oh my god,” Hunk sighs in relief. “Eighteen-thirty. That’s fucking close.”

The scores are out of two-thousand. A score of sixteen-hundred is technically passing, but most qualified candidates score eighteen-hundred or higher. The exam is only part of the application, however, and the final admission decision is made holistically. That’s why Lance needed to do well on this exam; the other aspects of his application are unimpressive.

“What about you, Keith?”

“Eighteen-fifty!”

“Ha! Nice!”

Of course, his friends are doing really well. They have so much to offer the Garrison. Lance doesn’t even want to look at his score. He knows it isn’t enough. Nothing he does is ever enough for-

“Lance.”

“I-I can’t find mine,” he laughs. “It’s probably so bad that they didn’t send one.”

“But you-! There should be a big number on your home screen out of two-thousand.” Pidge gestures to his phone. “Can I see?”

Lance passes his phone to her and prepares to be ashamed.

She gasps. Then she laughs. “You’re an idiot.” She cackles almost maniacally. “You’re so stupid. I love you, Lance.”

“You don’t have to rub it in,” he grimaces.

“Dude.” Keith pinches his arm. “It’s perfect.”

“What, is there a sixty-nine or something?”

Hunk picks Lance up and spins him. “Your score is perfect! I told you you should be proud!”

Lance freezes with this rare feeling of triumph as everyone (including Pidge’s dad) goes in for another hug. His chest swells with a foreign hope—a real hope. For just this moment, he lets himself imagine the best-case scenario: getting into the Garrison, becoming someone confident and accomplished like Veronica, and finally wearing down the chains that keep him at his house.

Chapter Text

Lance’s anxiety is through the roof while he waits for his official Garrison acceptance or rejection. Every other moment, he catches himself fantasizing about the fanfare of success. Then he scolds himself and prepares for the inevitable notification that this was all a mistake.

He keeps his score to himself.

When his mom finds out that he passed the exam at all, she gets weirdly angsty. “If you’re so smart now, then you can help your brother graduate.”

“Didn’t he already graduate?”

“They let him walk, but he won’t get his diploma unless he gets this last credit.”

Lance crosses his arms over his chest protectively. “But why do I have to help him? He’ll hate this more than he hates me.”

Mamá throws down the laundry she was folding. “He isn’t supposed to like it. If he failed because he was stupid, I don’t know. But he lost the credit because he skipped too many classes.”

“But why do I have to do it?”

“Don’t you want to rub it in?” Mamá attempts to elbow Lance casually. “Maybe seeing you succeed will make him step it up.”

More like seeing Lance succeed will make Marco do whatever he can to drag Lance down.

Mamá sets her hand on Lance’s shoulder. “It’s only for a couple of months. All he wants is to upset you. Just don’t react, and everything will be fine.”

“Fine.”

Every day that Lance spends at his house, he dies a little more inside. Every single one of Lance’s and Marco’s study sessions begins with an underwear check. One day, Lance pulls down his own pants to save himself a small degree of violation, but Marco freaks out and punches Lance so hard that he sinks to the floor to cradle his gut while Marco hisses and spits homophobic slurs.

At least once a week, just to get out of the house, Lance is hooking up with someone new. The girls in his class start calling him a dog. Not in the way most men would be, a drunk girl explains to him one night, but because he is submissive. No one wants to date him; they just want to play.

Lance is okay with being a plaything, honestly, so long as he doesn’t have to be Marco’s brother.

Another day, when their parents both happen to work, and everyone else happens to be out of the house, Marco sprays Lance with ice-cold water, forces him to get naked, and then stay in the freezing shower for thirty minutes to prevent “gay boners” before he is allowed into Marco’s room.

Lance keeps his mouth shut. Keith should be back in about an hour. This can’t go on forever.

In the middle of Lance’s explanation of angle theorems, Marco grabs his thigh.

“What are you doing?” Lance asks through gritted teeth.

“Does it feel like you’re a girl like this?” Marco slides his hand up Lance’s thigh and squeezes. “Or-“

“Don’t touch me!” Lance swats his hand away. “Get away from me!” he snaps, scooting his chair back until it hits Marco‘s bed.

Marco jumps up and smacks Lance across the face. “Don’t tell me what to do!” He pushes his little brother onto the bed and holds down his arms and legs. “What the fuck did you think I was doing, creep? Did you think I was making a move?!”

“No!” Lance shakes his head. “Get off-”

“SHUT UP! I COULD KILL YOU IF I WANTED!” Marco screams. Then he lets go of Lance’s wrists to grip Lance’s neck. “I could kill you right now.” He squeezes. “No one would care, and you know it.”

Lance pulls as hard as he can at Marco’s arm, he pushes as hard as he can on Marco’s chest, but his upper-body strength is nothing next to his brother’s. He can’t see. He can’t feel his body. He can’t think.

He is shaking when he wakes up.

Marco is back at the desk, glaring at Lance. “Sit down.”

“I’m gonna throw up,” Lance cries quietly.

“There’s a fucking trashcan right here. Sit down and do this assignment.”

Mortified but obediently, Lance sits. He cradles the trashcan and does Marco’s geometry homework while Marco plays on his phone.

“Lance?” Keith knocks a million years later. “Are you guys not done?”

Marco glances at the paper, sees that Lance is about three-fourths of the way through, and shrugs. “Good enough. Get out of here.” His voice takes on the casual cadence that he always gives in front of Keith.

Two-faced fucking psycho.

Lance hurries out and downstairs.

Keith follows him into the bathroom, and Lance pulls him close in the dark.

“Are you okay?” Keith asks gently, letting his walls down to embrace Lance.

“Can we go somewhere tonight?” Lance diverts. “I can find someone in an hour if-”

“I am working at the cafe tonight.” Keith pulls back. “Please don’t meet up with someone without me.”

Lance pouts. “Why do you have to work so much?” He crosses his arms. “My job makes way more money and takes way less time. Why can’t we do that?”

“No offense,” Keith sighs, “but I’m not putting your ‘job’ on my résumé.” He rests his forehead on Lance’s shoulder. “Will you keep me company tonight? I can give you free coffee~”

Lance sighs, taking Keith back into his arms. “Okay.”

He will do anything to get away from Marco, although he wishes he could forget his brother altogether. He sure tries.

Lance sits in the back of the cafe where he can make funny faces at Keith when the customers are not looking.

Keith is so cute with his hair pulled back and a polite smile on his face.

When the cafe is empty, Lance pretends to be a new customer, whose character as a dashing young entrepreneur develops as the night goes on.

Pidge shows up around one in the morning with a thick stack of mixed physics, computers, and math papers.

“Oh my god, nerd,” Lance rolls his tired eyes. “How do you find homework to do during summer?”

Pidge blinks in disbelief. “I’m doing a project… What the hell are you doing up at this hour? I thought his majesty was particular about his beauty sleep!”

“His majesty is always beautiful, but alas, his castle has fallen. He is powerless. He cannot sleep.”

Pidge sits across from Lance. ”Fallen castle? Does this have anything to do with random girls texting and asking if you’re okay?”

“What?”

“I got three just this week. ‘Is Lance good?”, ‘How is Lance?’, ‘Have you been with Lance? How is he?’”

“Oh,” Lance blushes. “Those are- Well…” He scratches the back of his neck. “They assume that since we’re close, that we have, uh…hooked up.”

Pidge has the visceral reaction that Lance expected, scrunching up her face and shaking her head in disgust.

“They’re asking if you think I’m good, like, in bed-“

“Yeah! I got it!” Pidge waves her hands. “You can stop now!”

Lance chuckles. “I thought you could tell whether I was a virgin.”

Pidge crosses her arms. “I was bluffing when I said that. I assumed you would tell the group chat as soon as it happened.” She shakes her head slowly. “And you’re such a prolific lover that people are asking for a fucking product review?!”

They both laugh this time.

“I guess so,” Lance says. So what if his peers only like him for sex stuff? At least they like him.

Pidge starts working on her project, but she doesn’t change the topic. “Are you being safe?”

“I use condoms if that’s what you’re asking.”

“What about consent? Are you careful with that?”

“Yep. I have safe words and hand signals and everything.”

“When was your first time?”

Lance hesitates with this question. “Like, ever? Or…”

“I mean, your first consensual time.” She stops writing to analyze Lance’s face. “You weren’t… Were you?”

“Uh, heh,” Lance grimaces. “I mean- Hold on. Not...like that? My first time all the way was very positive.” He checks the cafe for eavesdroppers. Pidge and Keith are the only ones here. “The reason I didn’t tell you guys…” Should he wait for Hunk? “The reason I didn’t tell anyone, actually…” He glances at Keith for support. “It was with a guy.”

Pidge’s jaw drops. “Keith?!” she gasps. “You and Keith!?”

“Ack-Hah!” Lance hides his face, beet red, his heart racing. “God, I wish.”

“HA! O-M-G! Lance, what?!?”

“I mean-!”

“What?” Keith runs up. “Did you guys say my name?” He blushes in solidarity with the others.

“I’ll tell you later!” Lance hisses.

“Does Hunk know?” Pidge leans forward. Lance has never seen her this invested in anyone’s love life.

Lance rolls his eyes. “Hunk definitely knows… But I haven’t told him.”

Pidge’s demeanor changes to concern. “Well, you should tell him. He already feels left out with you and Keith being together all the time.”

“I live with him-”

“I know. But-” Pidge bites her lip. “I hope this isn’t a secret, but Hunk told me you’ve been giving him major FOMO lately. And after you went off when he came out, your relationship isn’t at its best. He is upset with you, but every time he tries to bring it up, things get worse.”

Lance’s heart skips a beat. He has been so caught up in his own affairs that he neglected his best friend. Guilt floods his veins. He didn’t even consider that Hunk might be feeling left out, assuming that Hunk would always be there for Lance, regardless of whether Lance was ever there for Hunk.

“I-“ Lance chokes on his shame. “I’ll call him.”

Pidge nods in approval. “Good.” She suppresses a smile. “And definitely tell him about this Keith thing.” She tries to look at Keith without getting his attention. “And tell me more about this Keith thing. When the hell did you stop hating him?”

Lance gapes. “I never hated him!”

“Yeahhhh,” Pidge drawls. “That’s why every day, second semester, sophomore year, you wouldn’t stop telling Hunk and me about this guy in your math class and his horrible mullet and how big of a show-off he was and how he was so annoying that you couldn’t focus and-” She pauses to reconsider. “Unless...you actually love his mullet!!!”

“It’s so soft,” Lance confesses.

Pidge teases Lance relentlessly until she leaves at the end of Keith’s shift.

“So what were you guys talking about?” Keith asks casually as they walk outside to his bike.

“Actually…” Lance takes the end of Keith’s jacket sleeve in his fingers. “I was wondering if we could stay out a little longer?”

Keith quirks an eyebrow. “At four in the morning?”

“Maybe we could watch the sunrise! I never wake up early enough, but I’ve always wanted to...to….” Have sex all night and then watch the sunrise with his lover. “I want to see it. I mean- It’s summer in Arizona!”

Keith nods slowly. “I know what you mean.”

Yeah, right.

“I know a spot.”

Lance is so tired that he almost falls asleep on the back of Keith’s bike. He doesn’t know how Keith can work two jobs without rest in between and still drive. Takashi would have a heart attack if he knew what they were doing; he hates tired drivers so much that he texts Lance almost every weekend to plan to stay the night wherever he is if he isn’t on his way home by nine.

“You didn’t fall off, did you?” Keith slaps Lance’s thigh.

“Hey!”

“Just checking,” he laughs, helping Lance off the bike. “It’s a little bit of a hike--about half a mile--but it’s worth it. Here.” He hands Lance a flashlight, and they trek silently up the mountain trail. Keith holds Lance’s hand to keep him from falling behind, and Lance is just- 😳🥺😩💘

By the time they get to the top, Lance is completely exhausted, dizzy, covered in a thin sheen of sweat, and horny. He almost falls asleep on Keith, but then dawn strikes.

The deep blue and blood red that take the sky are so strikingly beautiful that Lance can’t imagine anyone seeing this and not experiencing the same flood of emotions.

He grabs Keith’s face and kisses his lips.

Keith falls back, and Lance follows him to the ground, straddling him and kissing harder.

Keith grabs Lance’s wrists and pushes him away. “What are you doing?!” Keith demands.

Lance is paralyzed. “Wha-?”

“What the hell, Lance?!” Keith gets up to pace, wiping his mouth clean with the sleeve of his jacket. “You’re the one who was all weird about us not touching, and then you go and kiss me out of the blue?!”

“I thought-”

“That you made it pretty fucking clear that we weren’t- that we couldn’t do anything.”

Lance hugs his legs. “No one is around, though! You fingered me just fucking fine when no one was around!”

Keith kicks a rock off the outlook and screams at the desert. “I shouldn’t have done that,” he shakes his head.

“I thought you liked me.” Lance fights his tears and hangs his head.

Keith takes Lance’s fists and makes him look at him. “I love you, Lance,” Keith confirms. “But I’m not like you. If you let me love you, I won’t be able to pretend that I don’t.” He maintains eye contact to make sure that Lance understands.

As long as Keith is being fostered by Lance’s family, nothing can happen between them.

Lance pulls away. “Okay. I got it.”

“Are you-”

“It’s fine. I get it.” Lance rubs his face. “Let’s just go home, I guess.”

There is an awkward pause.

“Okay,” Keith says.

The hike down is so much longer than the hike up, and it’s so much harder without Keith’s support.

Lance starts sobbing when they get on the highway, snot and tears covering his face and flowing back into his hair as he clings to Keith like he never will again.

Chapter Text

Lance has a nightmare that Marco has sex with him in the living room while Mamá and Keith chat in the kitchen, pretending not to see.

When Keith shakes him awake, Lance slaps him the first time because he thinks he is Marco, then a second time because he can’t believe what he and Mamá did.

Keith asks if Lance is okay. “You were crying in your sleep. Do you want to t-”

Lance pushes him away and runs to the bathroom. He shuts the door in Keith’s face when he tries to follow.

“Just leave me alone!” Lance cries, still caught up in his dream. He dry-heaves over the toilet for half an hour, only dripping tears and sweat into the bowl. He showers in scorching water until it turns cold, but his skin and guts continue to writhe in nauseous horror.

He wants out. He wants everything to stop. He wants to run away but at the same time to curl in on himself until there is nothing left. He wants to disappear. Or better yet, to have never been born in the first place.

He spends the rest of the night lying naked on the bath mat, staring at the ceiling, thinking about ways to die.

He blinks slowly when he wakes up. He feels sober now. Painfully sober.

What is he doing? Was he really thinking about killing himself last night? He doesn’t feel any of that this morning, although his dream stays with him.

He wants to apologize to Keith for slapping him, but they haven’t really been talking since they came back from the mountain. Lance doesn’t know how much he can share without crossing Keith’s boundaries, so he doesn’t say anything at all.

He steps around Keith, who is passed out by the bathroom door, and tries to get ready for the day like nothing is wrong.

Despite his best efforts, he keeps thinking about the dream. He wishes it was more violent. That would make more sense. If Marco was killing him, that would suck, obviously, but it would make sense. Lance doesn’t understand why it was so quiet. Marco’s gaze wasn’t soft, but it was calm as he raped Lance, his hands around his neck. It was not like he was attacking Lance or trying to hurt him… More like he was taking something. Asserting something.

Lance shudders.

Even Marco wouldn’t- couldn’t do something like that.

Mamá touches Lance’s shoulder, making him jump. “I said, ‘Are you nervous?’”

“Huh?”

“It’s not that I don’t want you to get in. It’s that I don’t want you to leave! I need my littlest baby.”

Lance pales as he remembers the Garrison decision is coming in the mail today. “Mami?” he addresses in a small voice.

She smiles gently. Lovingly. Cautiously. “What is it, mijo?” She worries her lip as Lance hesitates. “Why do you look so sad?”

Lance swallows. He knows in reality that she doesn’t know about his dream, but the feeling of betrayal is still with him. “I’m leaving no matter what.” He keeps his eyes on hers, making sure she understands. Whether or not he goes to the Garrison, whether dies or moves in with Veronica or runs away with a random sugar daddy, he will not live here anymore.

Mamá fiddles anxiously with her ring. “Are you just trying to upset me? You know how much I love you.”

Lance recalls the way she whispered in the kitchen in his dream. The way her eyes peeked with disgust, contempt, and amusement. It was so realistic. Possible. Likely.

“I know how much you love me,” Lance agrees. And it isn’t enough that you would save me.

He wants to hide in his room, but the best he can do is cocoon himself in the blankets on the couch and ignore everyone.

He holds his breath all day, not even breaking to eat, until finally, finally the mail arrives.

Mamá opens Lance’s letter and reads it before Lance even stands to get it.

Her expression gives away nothing of the letter’s contents. Lance can tell that she stares at the paper without reading it for a while after understanding what it says. Then she says, “Huh,” and drops the pages on the couch, retreating to her room.

Lance scrambles for the letter as Keith appears, anxious to show Lance the acceptance he surely received.

To Lance McClain and Family,

Thank you for your application to the Galaxy Garrison! Your perfect score on the GGPEE is most impressive, and you received a strong letter of recommendation from our very own Veronica McClain. However, due to your GPA and current high school transcript, we are unable to assure your success at our rigorous academy.

For these reasons, you are granted probationary admission to the U.S. Galaxy Garrison University of Astronautical Science. Congratulations! You may be granted full admission after your first year on the condition that you maintain a GPA of 3.0 or higher and receive a recommendation of continuation from at least one of your professors.

The letter continues, but Lance is too excited to keep reading.

“Did you-?” he asks Keith.

“I- I did! Did you-?”

“Yeah!”

“Hah!”

They hug, laughing with relief and ecstasy.

Lance lets go quickly, though, to prevent other emotions from creeping up. “I- We- I’m going to call Hunk!”

Marco happens to come downstairs at that moment.

“Hello?” Hunk answers.

Lance finds himself crouched behind the trash can outside of his house. He must have run here because his heart is beating so fast.

“Hunk?” Lance asks. “Can I come over?”

There is an awkward pause. It isn’t long, but it wouldn’t have been there a year ago. “Is something wrong? Did you get your letter from the Garrison?”

“I did.” Lance forces his limbs to stand and take him to the bench on the front porch where he can sit like a normal person. Well, he crosses his legs tightly and wraps his arms around himself, the hair on his neck standing up knowing that his brother is behind that wall, but other than that, normal.

“I’m still waiting!” Hunk groans. “I wish they would just email it all at the same time!”

Lance laughs as he sighs, hyper-focusing on Hunk’s voice. “I know you got in,” Lance smiles. “If I did, then everyone else did for sure.”

Hunk gasps. “You’re in?!”

“I’m in!!”

Lance starts hyperventilating, but he manages to keep himself from crying.

“C-Can I com-over?” Lance asks again.

“YES!” Hunk cheers. “To your admission and to coming over! Do you need a ride? Or is Keith coming too?”

Lance decides that Keith doesn’t want to come without asking him. “He needs some space,” Lance explains.

Lance goes inside just long enough to pack an overnight bag. Then he goes back outside to wait for Hunk to pick him up.

“Did you guys fight or something?” Hunk asks, awkwardly waving goodbye to Keith through the window.

Lance waits until Hunk starts driving and has to look at the road before he answers. “I tried to kiss him,” Lance admits. “And he didn’t want me to, so it’s weird now.”

Hunk’s brows shoot up his forehead. “Whaaaat???” His head turns a couple of times to try to look at Lance, but his focus remains on the road. “I knew I was missing something, but that’s…” Hunk clicks his teeth in thought. “Like as a joke?”

Everything that Lance has been hiding from Hunk suddenly weighs on his tongue. Live streaming, Keith finding out, Takashi, Marco’s behavior, his dad wanting him to go, his mom wanting him to stay, Keith’s watching him fuck strangers, Keith giving him rides on his bike, Keith giving him free drinks at the cafe and stupid grins.

“There’s just a lot going on,” Lance croaks. “I didn’t want to lie to you but- Our friendship has always been so pure, and I didn’t- I don’t know what to do. I don’t want to ruin it.”

Hunk turns off the radio. They drive the rest of the way to his mom’s house in silence and then sit in his driveway for a little while before Hunk turns to his oldest friend.

“You can’t ruin this,” Hunk says. “No matter what happens, even if our friendship changes or fades someday, nothing can take away the years of comradery and support we have already given each other. I love you, Lance, and the past ten years will never stop being important to who I have become. To who we have become. You...you can tell me anything. It’s normal for relationships to evolve as people do. Whatever you want to say—even if it’s weird—I won’t push you away. I want to be here for you. And I want you to feel comfortable relying on me. I know you’ve been holding a lot in lately, and if you’re ready to tell me, I’m ready to listen.”

Lance is instantly comforted. Hunk has always known exactly what to say to him.

He leans over and nudges Hunk’s arm with his head.

“I’m bi,” he says. “I’m sure now. But...I’m scared.”

Hunk tilts his head onto Lance’s.

Lance closes his eyes. “My parents aren’t like yours, apparently.” He hears his sentence when he says it out loud. “Heh, ap-parent-ly.”

Hunk sits back up. “What do you mean?”

Lance chews on exactly what to say. “I didn’t get to come out,” he explains. “I didn’t want to. Yet, I mean. But they found out. And they hate it. They don’t know what to do with me… I don’t really know what to do either. I’m-”

Lance sees Hunk’s mom in the front door with an envelope from the Garrison. She raises her hand in a polite greeting and then points excitedly at the unopened letter.

Lance perks up. “Dude, your letter is here! Let’s go!”

Lance starts to leave the car, but Hunk grabs his arm. “You can always come here.”

They maintain eye contact and squeeze each other’s hands.

“Thanks, man,” Lance says.

Hunk nods.

Then they excitedly jump out of the car at the same time and run to Hunk’s mom, who immediately hands over the envelope.

“Yes!” Hunk exclaims after skimming quickly. “Admission and scholarship! Fuck yes!”

Hunk’s mom raises an eyebrow in scolding, despite her grin.

“Heck yes!” Hunk corrects.

She laughs happily, ruffling his hair. “I am so proud of you, baby. You worked so hard for this.” Then she turns to Lance. “Have you heard-”

“I’m in,” Lance beams.

She ruffles Lance’s hair with her other hand. “That’s so wonderful.” She chuckles to herself. “I remember when you two came here after the Garrison visit in fifth grade, raving about STEM. Planning. Dreaming.” She tears up, laughing again. “I am so happy that your dreams are coming true.”

They go inside to start celebratory dinner. Hunk and his mom cook together, letting Lance help when he can. They all eat together, talking jubilantly about what is next to come.

It’s so warm. The food, the family, the atmosphere. Lance didn’t realize how much he needed this.

He goes to bed with his heart and belly full. He sinks comfortably into Hunk’s bed—a real bed. No shitty couch springs, no cold hotel comforter. Just safe and cozy familiarity and support.

“I’m sorry that I’ve been distant,” Lance sighs. “I always thought my mom would have my back, you know? And I always thought you would have my back. And then she didn’t, and I was so fucking terrified by the possibility that you wouldn’t-”

Lance chokes up.

“I am glad you’re here for me,” he continues. “I’m so so grateful, but…”

“But?”

“But at the same time, I- How can you love me more than my own mother?”

Hunk hums thoughtfully. “I know that you’ve always been close with your mom, so maybe this will hurt to hear, but lots of people—especially LGBT+ people—have to rely on found families. You- It probably isn’t fun realizing that your family—that blood relatives in general—aren’t all that they’re cut out to be, but maybe that means- And in your culture, family is really held up as this important thing, but at the end of the day, if they don’t love you as they should, then you’re not getting the love that you should.”

Hunk pulls Lance into a hug on the bed.

“You deserve love, Lance. And it’s okay to look in other places to get it.”

Lance cuddles into Hunk’s plush chest. It’s true that it hurts. It hurts that it’s true. Lance’s family doesn’t love him as much as they should. They just don’t. He can’t meet the requirements to earn their “unconditional love”. But elsewhere-

Lance’s mind goes to Keith. Then he redirects his mind.

Takashi. His chest is heavy with want. With yearning and desire.

Lance loves Takashi.

He loves him, and he feels loved by him. He wants to be with him. He wants to belong to him.

And Lance is moving to Cielo Libre in the fall! Maybe he can become a part of Takashi’s life!

Lance giggles out loud.

“What are you thinking about?” Hunk asks, already laughing along.

Lance blushes in the dark. “I’m so excited.”

Chapter Text

Less than a month now. In less than one month, Lance can sleep in a bed every night. He can close a door for privacy. He can breathe again…

Maybe.

“I don’t have to sign those permission forms,” Mamá says almost daily now. “I’m not saying that I won’t, just that you’re still my son, and you need to earn things that you want from me.”

Lance keeps his head down. He stays home. No sleepovers, no booty calls, no nothing. He knows his mom wants him to be under her roof—even when she isn’t here.

Lance obliges. The alternative is much worse. He can stay here for less than one month. He can not stay here for another year.

He can handle this. He can swallow everything he wants to do and everything he wants to say for less than one more month.

It’s hell. It’s awkward. But for less than one month, he can bear it. He has to.

Keith starts sleeping in Marco’s room at Mamá’s insistence. “It will be safer,” she said.

Lance doesn’t let himself dwell on her implications. This is a punishment. He is a prisoner.

He is so alone, and yet someone is always breathing down his neck. He cries in the shower every night in the only time he has to himself, but even then, he only has ten minutes until Marco barges in to keep Lance from doing “girl stuff”.

One day, however, Lance is actually alone in the house. He takes the opportunity to do laundry, thankful that no one is standing over him; thankful that he doesn’t have to be alert to a surprise wardrobe inspection.

In fact, Lance feels free enough to wear the not-even-cheeky boyshorts he has managed to keep under the radar thus far. He hides them always because of the thin lace on the hems, but they’re comfortable. They were among his least favorite panties before, but everything that survived the purge is so precious to him now.

He lets himself close his eyes and accept the peace of this moment.

It’s a beautiful day. Beams of light shine gently around the house through sheer curtains. The house is comfortably cool inside despite the blistering heat outside—a privilege for summer in the desert.

Lance wants to lie down in just the boyshorts and feel the air on his bare skin—and he would if he had a room—but he pulls on jeans and a t-shirt for a nap as his laundry dries.

He does what he can to make the jeans bearable, unbuttoning the jeans and positioning himself in such a way to minimize the imprints from the waistband.

He falls asleep on his back with his arms and legs splayed under a light sheet.

He wakes up with the bottom of his shirt up—exposing the thin line of hair from his bellybutton to his pubic bone—the sheet and his jeans around his knees, and Marco kneeling over him with his phone.

Lance is stunned. This isn’t happening. He’s dreaming again. Such a horrible dream he is having again.

Marco brushes Lance’s belly as he carefully pushes Lance’s shirt higher to get a better view of his underwear and takes a picture.

Lance flinches at the flash.

This isn’t happening.

Marco drops his phone, eyes and cheeks blazing, and pounces forward to cover Lance’s mouth and brace his forearm against his throat.

“How fucking dare you,” Marco growls. He pushes his arm deeper into Lance’s neck.

Lance chokes, grabbing Marco’s arm, trying to wrench it off.

This isn’t happening.

“So many fucking chances you’ve had, and you still-” Marco wedges a knee between Lance’s legs for emphasis. “This is what you fucking do?”

Lance claws at Marco’s arm, bending back his own nails, tearing skin, drawing blood. He can’t pass out right now. He cannot lose consciousness like last time. If he blacks out then Marco will…

Marco will…

What will he do to him?

Marco rips his arms away from Lance only to grab his wrists and hold his brother down.

Lance can’t kick. Marco has him pinned down at the knees. He can’t punch. Marco has a death grip on his wrists. He can’t move.

Lance starts to cry out, but Marco quickly stifles the sound by gathering Lance’s wrists and neck in his huge, meaty hands.

“Shut the fuck up,” Marco spits, pressing his forehead as hard as he can into Lances. “No one is fucking here. No one could be on your side anyway, so shut the fuck up.”

Lance chokes on a breathless sob.

Marco pushes his gritted teeth into Lance’s ear. “Here’s what is going to fucking happen,pervert.” He bites Lance’s cheek hard just under his eye. Then he pushes his forehead into Lance’s brow. “You’re going to take off that fucking thong, and you’re going to give it to me. Do you understand?”

Marco releases Lance for a moment.

Lance gasps, and then he screams for help.

Marco grunts and presses Lance’s wrists right back into his throat. “I told you to shut up,” Marco hisses. “Do I really have to do all of this for you?”

Lance tries to shake his head.

“So many fucking chances you’ve had,” Marco repeats. He holds Lance’s wrists together with one hand under Lance’s chin and puts his weight on them to keep his brother quiet.

With his other hand, Marco reaches down.

Lance struggles in a panic. He thrashes with every inch of freedom he has left. He manages to kick a leg into Marco’s crotch, but only hard enough to piss him off even more.

Marco scratches Lance as he snatches the waistband of Lance’s underwear and rips them down his legs.

Lance screams bloody murder.

He doesn’t know how much of it escapes his mouth because of the ringing in his ears.

Marco punches him in the face on the opposite side of the bite.

The house shutters with a bang. Was that the punch? Is Lance shaking that much?

Marco’s weight is suddenly off him, and Lance feels like he’s floating. Did he pass out after all?

Papá slaps Marco hard enough to make his sturdy son stumble.

“GO UPSTAIRS AND DON’T LEAVE YOUR ROOM UNTIL I’M DONE WITH YOU!” Papá bellows. He kicks Marco’s leg to get him away faster.

“AND YOU,” Papá turns, fury exuding from every external feature like an aura.

Lance hurries to cover himself and tries to pull up his pants, but before he can, his father grabs him by the hair and swings Lance across the living room.

Lance sails through the air from the couch to the front door where he crashes when his hair rips away from his head.

Lance gasps. “I’m-“

Papá takes a fresh handful of hair, throws open the door, and kicks Lance just above his tailbone, sending his son face-first down the concrete steps and into the gravel path below.

“Get OUT!” he shrieks.

Lance stares in disbelief at the bloodied ground.

He doesn’t have time to think before his laptop lands next to him, the monitor and keyboard separating on impact.

Next comes his phone, screen shattering.

Then his pictures.

Every photo from the living room with Lance’s image comes flying. Awards. Family portraits. Baby pictures.

Lance finally musters the sense to run when the corner of a frame nails him in the arm.

He trips over his jeans and tries again to pull them up when another frame hits the back of his head.

Lance grabs his broken phone and scrambles away, crawling until his pants come off all the way and then breaking into a blind sprint.

His bare feet land hard against the burning pavement.

His genitals fall out of his underwear as he runs.

His emotional and physical aches war for his breath.

Lance sees a couple walking at the end of the block, and he shoots off the road to hide himself.

He jumps into the neighborhood drainage ditch, scraping his legs along the rocky edges of the crude channel, and continues to run until he comes across a small bridge to cower beneath.

He falls to his hands and knees gasping for air. His body is wet and stickied by tears and sweat and dust.

He is hyperventilating. When isn’t he? He is so pathetic. He can’t handle anything that Marco does to hurt him, always overreacting and running to Mami.

Mamá wouldn’t hold him now, though. He’s gone too far. He’s gone beyond too far.

Marco is right. Lance has had so many chances to change, and he just hasn’t. He knows his bisexuality will never go away, but does he have to show it off? It only attracts trouble. Lance knows that. He knows that.

So fucking stupid. So fucking stupid. Stupid. Stupid. Stupid.

He has had so many chances to learn to hide it. Why did he push his luck? He only had to pretend for less than one last month.

Lance brought this onto himself. It’s his fault that Marco-

Lance shakes.

What happened? What was Marco doing? What would have happened if Papá hadn’t-

Lance rolls in and out of his mind as he panics.

No, Lance tries to ground himself. You’re blowing this out of proportion. Just like you always do.

Was what just happened anything new? Lance has been piling straws on Papá and Marco all his life. Today’s was the last.

Lance leans forward and weeps onto his hands.

He doesn’t move until his phone rings.

His heart drops when he sees the glitching rainbow lines across the fragmented screen.

He taps desperately where he remembers the answer button to be.

The ringing stops.

“Hello?” Lance croaks.

“Hey!” Takashi answers cheerfully. “Did you just wake up?”

Lance sobs in relief. “Takashi.”

A pause, and then, “What’s wrong?” he asks, suddenly serious.

“Please,” Lance begs. “Can you pick me up?” Lance sits up to cover himself with his shirt as he looks around. “Please.”

A longer pause. “Now?”

“I need help,” Lance cries. “Please. I don’t know where else to go.”

“Right. Where are you?” Takashi asks. There is shuffling in the background. “I’m coming.”

Lance doesn’t know exactly where he is, but he tries to relay surrounding landmarks. He realizes that he is talking to a brick.

Did his phone die? Did it break for good? Did Takashi simply hang up?

Lance curls around his phone. He hopes, he prays that someone is coming for him. As he waits, everything starts to hurt. His bloody nails, the scrapes all over his body, his swelling bruises, his bloody lip, Marco’s bite, the gash on his head where the corner of the picture frame landed.

He shivers and he aches as the sun goes down. Over and over again, he loses and restores his faith in rescue.

What will he do when morning comes? He can’t stay here. What if he gets arrested for public nudity or something? Since he is a minor, the cops will call his parents. They’ll call his dad. God. What would happen then? What will happen to Keith? Will they get rid of him too? Or will Keith replace Lance?

Or has he already? Lance thinks bitterly.

He bites his tongue. None of this is Keith’s fault. He knows that. But the thought is in his head, and he can’t get it out.

Lance was so jealous of Keith when they were younger. He never stopped being jealous of Keith, truth be told, but he was able to put those feelings into reverence when they started to get closer. Lance was able to get over himself enough to feel comfortable letting Keith into his friend group. Into his heart. But into his home?

It was fine when Keith was a guest, but it was so painfully obvious how much MamA preferred him to Lance when he moved in. What would have happened if Lance had never been caught? Would MamA still favor him? What would happen if his family knew about Keith? That Keith isn’t even bi. He’s gay. Isn’t that worse? Why is Lance the one huddling half-naked in a ditch?

Lance scuttles like a crushed cockroach when a light flashes over him.

“There you are,” Takashi exclaims quietly. He jumps down to Lance and crouches to examine the situation, brow furrowing deeper with each new detail he notices.

The floodgates open all over again, and Lance throws himself into Takashi’s arms, clinging to him for dear life, unable to ask or answer any questions through his tears.

Takashi carries Lance out of the ditch and halfway across a field when he says something, something hospital.

Lance pushes himself away, surprising Takashi enough to drop the poor boy.

“N-no!” Lance asserts. “I can’t. I can’t.” Hospital. Police. Parents. No.

Takashi gets to his knees to pick Lance up again, but Lance holds him at a distance.

“Baby,” Takashi worries. “You’re hurt. You need-”

“No!” Lance rises, struggling to stand on his legs numb from being folded under him for so long. “I can do it myself! I just-”

Takashi stands and supports Lance with his arm.

“I just need somewhere to go. I- Please let me at your house. Apartment. I just need somewhere to go. Please. I can fix it. I- I’ll stay in the bathroom the whole time if you want! Just…please.”

Takashi’s shoulders slump with pity. He takes Lance’s shaking frame carefully into a hug. “I understand,” he sighs. “You don’t have to do or say anything that you don’t want to. Just tell me what you need, and I will do whatever I can to help you.” He strokes Lance’s head. “I don’t want to let you go. I want to keep you. I want to keep you safe. I…” He sighs again. Let’s get you cleaned up, okay?”

The thirty-minute drive into the city is a blur. Takashi happens to have a jacket in his car that he gives to Lance to cover himself with when they enter his building.

Takashi walks Lance to the master bathroom and brings towels, first aid supplies, water, and acetaminophen.

“Can I help you?” he asks. “Is that okay?”

Lance nods blankly. He is so exhausted from the day. Now that he is safe, he will agree to anything.

Takashi is gentle and professional as he coaxes bits of gravel out of Lance’s face and hands with sterile tweezers. He is procedurally perfect as he cleanses, treats, and bandages all of his scrapes and cuts.

“Have you done this before?” Lance wonders.

Takashi pauses. “Yeah.”

He doesn’t elaborate. It’s clear that he doesn’t want to, but Lance has an urge to push it.

“When?”

He guides Lance into the bathtub to wash warm soap and water over everything that isn’t covered in bandages.

Takashi looks at what he is doing, but he seems to be seeing something else. “I was a volunteer firefighter before I got into physics.”

Again, he doesn’t elaborate. There is obviously more to the story, but Lance decides to let it go this time.

When Lance is clean and dry, Takashi wraps him in a soft towel and sits with him on the bed. “What do you want to do now?”

Lance smiles with his eyes but not his mouth and lets the towel fall. “I feel better,” he states. He leans over and lays his head on Takashi’s lap. “We can have sex now.”

Takashi jolts and scoots away. “What? No!” he exclaims, shaken out of his stupor. “We can’t- You are in no state to consent right now. You don’t want to do that.”

Lance blinks in surprise. “But I feel fine. I want to.”

Takashi’s demeanor reminds Lance how much older and experienced he is. “You are not fine.”

“Well…” Lance struggles. “Why did you call me?”

“That-” Takashi purses his lips. “I missed you.”

“You missed me because you wanted to have sex. Right?”

Takashi looks like he is confessing a sin. “I missed you because I love you.” He blushes. “Sorry.”

Lance smiles with his mouth this time but not his eyes, a flush falling across his own face. “Why are you sorry?”

“You don’t need this right now.”

Lance reaches for Takashi, and the other doesn’t pull away. “This is exactly what I need right now.”

No one else loves him. He needs someone outside of his family. He needs someone who doesn’t know the bad side of him. The failed side of him.

“I love you, too.” Lance feels weirdly empty as he says the words, but knows he must mean them. How couldn’t he?

Takashi sighs in defeat. “I love you.” Why does it sound like he means it so much more?

They embrace. Lance buries his face in the crook of Takashi’s neck and shoulder. His body heat soothes Lance’s sores instead of scathes. “I love you,” he tries again. He loves him, he loves him, he loves him.

Takashi holds Lance close. He supports the back of his head like one would a baby and takes a deep breath of him. “I love you.”

“I love you,” Lance repeats.

“I love you.”

Chapter Text

Lance’s phone is, in fact, gone for good. He pretends not to care. He pretends this is better. He doesn’t want to hear or see whatever everyone has to say.

He pretends that he is an injured bird that Takashi rescued. He likes how tenderly, attentively, and intimately Takashi cares for him. Takashi makes it easier for Lance to be vulnerable and powerless.

Takashi takes two days off work, but he has to go back eventually. When he is gone, Lance lies in the middle of his king-size bed and stares at the tall, white ceiling. He doesn’t sleep. He can’t. When he dozes off—even for a few seconds—he startles awake, stuck to the bed with sweat and fear.

After washing Takashi’s sheets for the third time in two days, Lance starts laying towels and wearing Takashi’s ex’s clothes to give some layers between him and the bedspread. The guy left everything behind, and Takashi didn’t touch any of it until he offered it to Lance.

“You remind me of him,” Takashi confesses. “That’s why- ugh.” He turns away guiltily. “That’s why I liked you in the first place. Originally. You’re more than that now, obviously.” He winces. “I hope it’s obvious.”

Lance laughs. “I wouldn’t know. I never knew you when you were with him.” Unless Takashi cheated or something. “Did I?”

Takashi’s stare goes somewhere far away. “He uh… he left a couple years ago.” He picks a hair from the shirt Lance is wearing. “You’re actually the first person I’ve been with since.”

Lance blushes. He feels special. He wants to reciprocate the sentiment, but what he says is, "You were my first, but I've been with a lot of people since." He is as surprised as Takashi when he hears himself. "But you're my favorite,” he adds quickly. “I really mean it. Out of all the I've been with—and that's a lot for only a few months, haha—you're my favorite. You're so…perfect."

Takashi smiles. Then he pauses, purses his lips, and speaks: "What about Keith?"

"What?" Lance is caught off guard. He thought they were about to kiss, but Keith? Keith is in real life. He should have nothing to do with the escapist world of the penthouse. "W-what about Keith?"

Takashi straightens his back and furrows his brow. "What is Keith to you? How do you feel about him?"

Loaded question, loaded question.

"Why do you ask?" Lance diverts, looking away.

Takashi sits on his bed, gesturing for Lance to do the same. “Did he do this to you? Is he the one who keeps hurting you?”

Lance scoffs at the very idea. “Keith would never.”

“He threatened me with a knife,” Takashi reminds him.

“Well… It was his first time being my bodyguard. He stopped doing that. I mean, threatening people outright. He still brings the knife, haha.”

Takashi runs his thumb over the still clear bite under Lance’s eye. “Where was Keith when this happened? What was his role?”

Lance brushes his hand away, suddenly annoyed. “Keith had nothing to do with it, okay? Why are you so obsessed with him out of nowhere?”

Takashi chews on the words before spitting them out. “He’s looking for you,” he finally admits. “He keeps emailing me. I didn’t want to tell you in case it would trigger another episode. You’re-”

“An episode of what?” Lance asks. “I’m only having nightmares, and that’s only when I fall asleep.”

Takashi pauses, pitying. Lance is starting to get sick of this broken bird thing. “You experienced something violent. Something traumatic. You’re trauma is-”

“It’s fine!” Lance waves his hands. “What did Keith say?”

Takashi has more to say, but he refrains. “I haven’t told him that you’re with me, but he is threatening to send the police my way if your family reports you missing.” He sets his hand on the bed next to Lance, wisely choosing not to initiate touch right now. “He says I have until noon Friday—that’s tomorrow—to respond.”

Lance huffs. His family will report him missing. He wonders who that is. Mamá? Veronica? He remembers that tomorrow is the deadline for the Garrison paperwork… Could Keith be lying? Could Keith be the only one trying to find him? How many people even noticed that he is gone?

“Are you okay?” Takashi asks.

“Can I call him? Keith. My phone isn’t working. Can I call him on your phone? Please?”

Takashi takes out his phone but hesitates to hand it over. “Star sixty-seven,” he says. “That guy is intense. I don’t want him having my number.”

Lance nods and enters asterisk, six, seven before dialing Keith’s number.

It rings four times before Keith answers. “Hello?” he says cautiously.

Lance is suddenly so anxious. He hasn’t really talked to Keith since he tried to kiss him, and now everything is so heavy at home, and the police might be involved, and Keith is a foster kid, and he might get kicked out, and they might not get to go to the Garrison if no one signs their papers, and then what would happen?

“Um, hey,” Lance says sheepishly. “It’s me.”

A gasp. “One sec.” There is shuffling on the other end, a door closes, and then, “Lance? Oh my god. Where are you? Why are you calling from a blocked number? Are you okay? Where- Do you know where you are? I can be anywhere you need me in, well, however long it takes to get there. Are you safe?”

“Um, I’m safe. I’m with-” Lance pauses to ask Takashi permission to reveal him.

Takashi shrugs, consenting, albeit reluctantly.

“I’m with…um, yeah. It’s Takashi. He’s good. I’m okay.”

Keith huffs, and Lance cuts in before he can say anything.

“My phone broke! I wasn’t trying to hide or anything like before. My phone won’t light up or anything, so I didn’t know you were trying to contact me until now, and I called right away, so I’m sorry for going AWOL, but I really wasn’t trying to. I’m sorry.”

“I’m not mad,” Keith says. “We’re scared more than anything.”

“We?”

“Everyone who knows you’re missing. That’s your parents, siblings, and me. Hunk and Pidge might’ve caught on, but they definitely don’t know how bad it is… I guess I don’t either. I only saw everything in the yard when I got back from work that day. And your mom is inconsolable. Like, I’ve never seen a real person so distraught. You should really call her.”

Lance’s heart pangs in the worst way. “I…don’t want to talk to her.” The words completely gut him as they make their way out of his body, and he half can’t believe he said it, but that’s his truth. He tears up but clenches his jaw to hold it back. “She’s probably playing it up anyway. I’m fine.”

Takashi frowns.

Keith sighs. “I know it’s complicated with you two, so I’ll drop it for now. Just… I’m staying with Veronica until we can move into the dorms. All the paperwork is done and submitted and everything. Can you…will you come with me?”

Lance swallows. Not everything is about him. It’s not Keith’s fault that he’s caught up in all this. “Are you okay?” Lance asks. “Did you get kicked out, too?”

“Pretty much everyone left the house. Your parents are still there mostly, I think, but Marco is the only one staying there full time, and that’s- ugh. It’s bad. He can’t leave. He can barely move. It’s- I’ve never- um, don’t tell that to Veronica.”

“D-don’t tell what to-” Lance glances at Takashi. “To her?”

“Your dad beat the shit out of him,” Keith whispers. “I know he hits y’all, but this is… What happened, Lance? Did he-”

“I’m fine!” Lance asserts. He is suddenly ridden with guilt over Marco. And he’s angry. He’s angry that Keith knows something so private about his family. “I got kicked out, and that sucks, but I don’t want to be there anyway. I- I’m gonna hang up now.”

“No! Please! I’m sorry. Please come with me. You won’t have to see anyone you don’t want to see, and we can go to the Garrison, and we can do whatever we want. Just, please come back.”

Lance lies back on the bed, defeated. “Fine. I will. I’ll come to you, so leave Takashi out of it, please.” He moves to hang up, but Takashi takes his phone back first.

“May I?” he asks.

Lance lets his hand fall. “It’s yours. Go crazy.”

Takashi touches Lance’s head affectionately and then leaves the room to talk to Keith.

Lance goes blank as soon as he’s alone and finds himself staring again at the now familiar ceiling. He can't stay here forever. It's time to go back to reality. He cries as little and as quietly as possible, just enough to ease the pressure of keeping it in. His face is dry when Takashi comes back.

Takashi scoops Lance up in his arms and holds him like he’s saying goodbye.

“What did you talk about?” Lance asks.

Takashi loosens his grip. “We mostly argued about whether you should go with him or stay with me. I didn’t get many details out of him, so I’m still not too happy to send you off.”

Lance looks at Takashi’s face. “Would you stop me if I tried to go?”

Takashi is dead serious. “If I thought you were a danger to yourself or others, then yes. And if I thought you were going back to whoever hurt you, then I would try to talk you out of it.” He kisses Lance’s between his brows and keeps his forehead there. “But I trust you. So I ask: Do you really feel safe with that guy?”

Lance tilts his head up and kisses Takashi on the nose. “Yes," he sighs. "I think you might feel the same way about him as he does to you, and that’s why you don’t get along, haha. But I think you would in real life.”

Takashi scoffs playfully and envelopes him again in a hug. “If you say it’s so, then I believe it.”

The next morning, Lance wears a simple t-shirt and pair of jeans from Takashi's ex. The jeans are the right length but a little big, so Lance borrows a belt.

"I'll bring it back to you next time," Lance says, kissing Takashi bye. "And I'll call you as soon as I get where I'm going."

Takashi is clearly holding back, but Keith will seriously call the police if Lance doesn't rendezvous in time, so he lets go. "I'll see you next weekend," he asserts, and Lance agrees.

Lance takes public transit to Veronica's neighborhood (He is so proud of himself for navigating without a phone, omg.) and walks two blocks from the bus stop to her apartment.

Lance doesn't know what he thought would happen when he arrived, but he imagined there might be a little bit of fanfare.

Veronica answers the door like she always does when she's expecting him, smiles, gives him a big hug, and invites him in.

Lance is surprised but relieved. He was so drained from sleeping in the living room at home and having to be on 24/7, but his week away was a nice break from that. He can play normal again. He reciprocates Roni's demeanor.

Keith stands to greet him, and when they're close enough to touch, Lance asks, "Can I use your phone? He wants to know I'm safe."

Keith doesn't say anything, but he is clearly disappointed. He hands over the phone—"Of course."—and sits back on the couch.

Veronica comes over with hot tea, sits across from the boys, and stares expectantly. "What happened?" she asks.

Lance bites the inside of his cheek. He has a band-aid over the bite mark, and all his scrapes and scratches have mostly healed, but he still has green and yellow bruises everywhere, and the ones around his eyes are definitely visible. "I'm fine," he says.

Roni leans back and crosses her arms. "Great, but what happened?"

Lance mirrors her pose. He doesn't know how much they know, but doesn't want to reveal everything. Only he, Marco and Papá were there when it went down, and he's relatively certain that Papá didn't say anything to Mamá or Veronica about what Marco did. Marco would never volunteer information about his transgressions, so Lance doesn't know where to start.

Keith shifts uncomfortably, turns toward Lance, and leans forward to whisper, "I wasn't supposed to know about Marco. Don't tell-"

Lance flinches. Then he blanches. "What do you know?"

Keith glances at Veronica and doesn't say anything.

"What do you know?" Lance asks Veronica this time.

Roni eyes Keith suspiciously. "All Dad said was that you ran away, but that's not how everyone is acting." She exhales slowly and softens, gingerly taking Lance's hand from across her coffee table. "You know you can tell me anything, right?"

Lance squeezes her hand. "No." He'll talk to Keith after this, but he resolves to leave his sister out of it.

"W-why not?" her voice breaks.

Because it will break your heart, Lance thinks. He says, "I have nothing to say."

Veronica lets go of his hand and sits back. "What are you going to tell Mom?"

The color returns to Lance's face two-fold. "I don't want to talk to her. I don't want to see her. I have nothing to say." He huffs. "I was told to leave, so I left. They're done with me, and I'm done with them. Don't even tell her I'm here."

It's Veronica's turn to blush. "I already did," she says, guilty. "She's on the way."

Chapter Text

Veronica finds the notepad that Lance wrote on after Marco taped him to his bed. She gives it to Lance hoping that he might write if he won’t talk, but reading his words from before strengthens his resolve to keep quiet.

It was less than six months ago, but Lance feels that he was so much younger when he wrote this. When Marco walked in on him with the giant fucking machine, Mami ripped his underwear off his body, Dad told him to disappear, Marco tried to make it happen. He remembers that Roni said she’d call the cops if Marco ever went further.

There are more details on this page than Lance has revealed to Keith, and it’s more than he will. He tears the page neatly along the perforated edge when Roni gets up to let Mamá in. He sets the notepad and pencil down on the table and takes his teacup to the kitchen where he shoves the paper in the garbage disposal and runs hot water while he cleans the mug.

Keith comes in with the other mugs and speaks quietly under the sound of running water. “How do you want to do this? Should I stay?”

Lance takes the cups from Keith and washes them too. “Since she’s already here, let’s wait until we can talk alone.” He runs the garbage disposal for a few seconds and turns off the water. “I can talk to her by myself.”

In truth, Lance is worried that Keith and Veronica will gang up on him and take Mamá’s side. She has both of them egging Lance to reach out to her. It could happen Lance thinks this interaction will be more evenly matched if it’s just him and his mom, but when he sees her, he knows that he has already won.

Mamá’s face is red and puffy from crying and rubbing at her eyes. Her bottom lip is raw from where she’s been biting it. She has a breakout under jaw that’s irritated from scratching. Her clothes are wrinkly and disheveled. Her shirt hangs askew, and one of her bra straps is showing.

She trembles at the sight of Lance and comes closer. She smells bad. Her teeth are yellow and cakey. Her hair is completely matted in one giant rat’s nest.

Shaking, she wraps her arms around Lance and sobs into his chest.

He dutifully hugs her back, but he has no more tears for her.

Veronica hovers warily, but Lance nods at her to give them some space, so she goes into her room to wait.

Mamá cries long enough that Lance gets bored. He considers stroking her hair to soothe her, but it’s too greasy and grosses him out.

“Well?” he finally prompts. “What’s…up?” He lets go, but Mamá doesn’t get the hint that she should too.

“I’m so glad you’re safe,” she weeps. She’s getting snot on Takashi’s ex’s shirt. “You’re my world, mijo. I knew in my heart God would protect you, but over and over again I kept thinking the worst. I only knew you were injured and missing. I thought you were dead, and that was worse than anything anyone could ever say or do. Lance-“

She looks up at him, and he does his best not to breathe through his nose.

“I love you more than anything, Lance. More than anything. I’ll love you if you’re gay or a murderer or anything! No matter what, baby, you’ll always be my baby. I love you so much.” She squeezes him tighter and buries her face again in his chest. “I’m so glad you’re okay.”

Lance sighs and replaces his arms around his mother. “Yeah, I’m fine.” He didn’t want to see her because he thought he might forgive her too easily, and everything would fall back to the status quo, but that’s never going to happen, he realizes.

He believes her when she says she’ll love him no matter what, but he’s lost his innocence in her eyes. He will always be her son, but despite her words, he will never be “her baby” again.

“What about you, Mom?” he asks. “You look like shit.”

She flinches hearing him curse. Or maybe because he called her “Mom”.

Lance takes the opportunity to sit her down and let go of him.

“It’s been a hard week,” she croaks. “I’ve been driving around mostly and going door to door looking for you. Your dad’s been staying home with Marco, who’s holed up in his room, sicker than he’s ever been. Papá thinks it's karma, but all he'll say is, ‘Marco went too far, and Lance ran away.’” She leans forward and sets a hand on Lance’s knee. “I guess your brother hurt you pretty bad, huh?” she frowns sympathetically.

So she doesn’t know. She doesn’t know what Marco did, and she doesn’t know that Dad beat him for it. Lance decides that, like Veronica, he doesn’t want her to know.

“Not so bad,” he says. He takes her hand off his knee. “Not as bad as the last time we were here.” He regrets reminding her of what he’s trying to forget, but it’s eerie. Same room. Same chairs. Same conversation. How many more times are they going to do this?

Mamá starts crying again. “I’m so sorry, Lance.” She kneels on the floor in front of him and puts her hands and face on his knees. Now she’s getting snot on Takashi’s ex’s pants. “I was wrong. Everything I did was wrong. Your being…wearing… You liking things like… It’s like…your legs are broken, and I tried to make you run.” She takes his hands and puts them on her face. Her cheeks are burning. “But baby, I’ll love and take care of you forever. Even if you never walk again. You know, even if they want to walk, people can live happy lives in wheelchairs.”

Now Lance’s cheeks are burning. On behalf of the entire LGBTQ+ community, all wheelchair users, and anyone who has ever broken a leg, he is offended.

“‘Kay,” he says shortly.

Lance stands and tries to walk away, but Mamá’s still going.

She stands with him and grabs his face. “And I was always going to sign your papers, mijo. I was bluffing. I’m so sorry. I just wanted you to listen to me, but it was stupid. I’m sorry, baby. I’m so proud of you.”

Her breath is horrible. Lance takes her hands and holds her at arm’s length. “Okay,” he says.

“I love you so much,” she repeats. As soon as Lance lets go of her, she rushes forward to hug him again.

This is a person who really loves him. This is a person who will always love him. But this person does not- cannot respect him. This person has betrayed him. This person will always apologize but who will never change. He can't trust her. He can't rely on her. So he won't.

Lance pats her back. “I love you, too.” And he means it. It just means something different than it used to. “Have you eaten?”

She shakes her head. “Just coffee.”

“All day?” It’s already afternoon.

“All week.” She slumps in his arms, exhausted. “I’ve just been so worried.”

He peels her off him again. “Well, let’s get you cleaned up, and we can get lunch here in the city if you want. I’ll help you with that knot in your hair.”

She feels the back of her head in surprise and agrees.

While his mom is in the shower, Lance changes clothes (borrowing from Keith. All Lance’s clothes are at the house and dirty from being outside) and gives Keith the low down on the version of the story for his mom and sister, but they don't have enough time alone to really talk.

Roni hugs Lance from behind while he carefully untangles Mamá’s hair with a pick. “You’re a good kid,” she whispers. “I’m so glad you’re here.”

“You’re welcome?” he shrugs.

His sister stands and sighs. “We were really worried, you know. All Dad would say was that you ran away, and no one else knew anything. Why couldn't we get a hold of you?”

Lance pauses. It’s technically true that he ran away, but he did so under fire. He understands the sparing of details, but he’s a little miffed that Papá didn’t at least own up to kicking him out.

Lance continues working out the knot. “I’m sorry you were worried, but he broke my phone, so I couldn’t call.” Before Veronica can ask, Lance clarifies, “He threw it, and it broke. I’m sure that wasn’t his intention.”

Veronica seems to accept this answer. If Lance was ever a mommy’s boy, then Roni was always a daddy’s girl. She’ll probably defend him if Lance accuses him of too much.

At lunch, Mamá fills him in on what everyone else has been up to this week. Keith and Mamá were the only ones to see all his stuff in the yard, and they cleaned it up before anyone else got home that day. "Those were my pictures out there," she grumbles. "There's no trace of you or Marco anywhere." Papá told everyone that Marco was sick, so everyone should stay out of the house to avoid him. Keith went with Veronica, Luis and his family moved up their end-of-summer vacation, and Rachel went on the trip she already had planned for her birthday.

Lance tries to keep his face neutral. It's August now, so yeah, he's seventeen. He can't believe he missed it. This is his first birthday that he and Rachel have spent apart, he realizes, and that hits him harder than he thought it would. He can't even remember the last conversation he had with her. His twin.

"Did you do anything fun for your birthday, baby?" Mom asks.

Lance tries to do the math to even figure out what day it was. Today is Friday, August first, so his birthday was on Monday, when Takashi went back to work. Lance was alone that day. "Yeah," he lies. "I had fun. I was with a friend. You wouldn't know him, and I didn't have my phone, so…sorry again for making you worry.”

Mamá shakes her head, teary eyed but smiling. “I’m just glad you were safe and happy.”

“How did Keith get in contact with you?” Veronica asks. “How come Hunk and Katie didn’t know anything?”

Before Lance can think of something, Keith blurts, “Minecraft!” It’s the first time he’s spoken the whole meal, and he blushes under the sudden attention. “We, um, Minecraft online, and an internet friend, so he lived close, and, yeah, we met once, so I was asking everyone I knew and…yeah.”

A flustered Keith is so cute.

After lunch, Mamá takes Lance to get a new phone. He is done being around her, but she insists. He bites his tongue when she puts it on credit.

He uses his old SIM card, so he still has all his contacts and photos, but his text and call history is gone. He is relieved that he doesn’t have to go through all the messages from this week, but he sends a crunchy “new phone, who dis” meme to Hunk and Pidge to hopefully placate them if they were worried.

It takes all three of them—Lance, Veronica, and Keith—almost another hour to convince Mamá to go home and sleep, but when she is finally gone, Veronica sticks close, so Lance still can’t talk to Keith.

The boys aren’t alone together until they go to bed, and by then, Lance is so tired that he lets himself fall asleep.

He tries to anyway.

The nightmares don’t stop. Lance still has to go to the bathroom every hour or so to retch and rinse off.

Keith is a light sleeper, so he isn’t getting a lot of rest either.

They’re both in bed, awake. It’s about two in the morning now.

Lance takes a deep breath through his nose. Now's as good a time as any. “Marco has always been obsessed with me,” he says, breaking the silence.

Keith shifts on his side immediately and stares attentively. He's been waiting for this.

“Even when we were younger,” Lance continues, “he would get so mad when I wanted to play with Roni and Rachel instead of him. I think he felt entitled to me, or something. He’s always wanted me to act a certain way and do certain things. Always.

“Things got a lot better when I got my own room, but really only at night, when I could lock him out. That was around the time Roni went to the Garrison, so she wasn't there to protect me from him during the day. Mamá always told me to ignore him. Papá always told me to fight back. As long as Marco didn't catch me alone, he didn’t really do anything—the furthest he’d go in front of people is shove me or hit me or something—but he always-”

Lance falters as his voice breaks. He’s annoyed that this is still affecting him. It's over. He's over it. He grits his teeth and pushes his grief back to anger.

Keith doesn’t touch Lance, but he moves his hand so Lance can take it if he wants to.

Lance sighs and closes his eyes. “He always catches me alone,” he finishes. “This time wasn’t much different, honestly.” He opens his eyes. “I probably overreacted. I was more scared about what might’ve happened than what actually happened, and my dad screaming at me and literally throwing me out didn’t help calm me down, y’know?”

Keith stares intensely enough that Lance looks over.

“What?” Lance asks.

“You still haven’t told me what happened.”

Lance can’t meet Keith’s eyes. He couldn’t see them in the dark anyway, but embarrassment keeps his gaze low. “It was just another underwear check. I was stupid to wear them anyway. I thought I was alone. I was sleeping, and I woke up with him on top of me, so I freaked out more than usual.”

Keith sits up. “Another underwear check?” he repeats. “What the fuck is that?”

Lance squirms under the premonition of Keith's rage. “I- It’s exactly what it sounds like, I guess. Marco pulls down my pants to check what kind of underwear I’m wearing.” Lance laughs a little to try and ease the tension. “Saying it out loud sounds kind of stupid, right? It wouldn’t have been that bad if I had just-”

“Stop.” Keith cuts him off. “This happened before? When?”

Lance shrinks in shame. “Just occasionally at first. It was everyday when I had to help him with that class. And then it was back to once every few days, but this last month—with trying to stay home to get Mom to sign the paperwork—it was everyday again. Twice if he could corner me somewhere.”

Keith is shaking. “For how long?”

“Since around…March?”

“Before I was even there?! So this whole time-” Keith is breathing like he’s about to explode. “I moved in in May. I said I would protect you. But I-“ He’s starting to really scare Lance, but his voice is so small when it comes out. “Where was I?”

Lance places a tentative hand over Keith’s clenched fist. “Sometimes you were gone at work or something. Sometimes just in the other room. But you couldn’t have done anything more. Don't blame yourself. Like I said, he always catches me alone. He never gets caught, and no one ever believes me.” His mouth twitches briefly into a cruel smile. “But Dad got him this time.”

Keith doesn’t like that. His breathing slows, and he takes Lance’s hand between both of his. He is so gentle. “And what did he do to you? Your dad.”

Lance gets that stupid voice in his head again that says he should protect his father’s image. It’s private family business, after all, and if Mamá doesn’t even know, then why should anyone else?

Lance grounds himself with the warmth of Keith’s hands and moves past that thought. He needs to be vulnerable and honest with at least one person in the world. He tells Keith exactly how it happened.

“You hit your head again?” Keith worries.

"It's just a scratch," Lance assures him. It stings when I wash my hair or if I accidentally itch at it, but I don't even notice it otherwise."

Keith touches Lance’s head in the dark, as if that will do anything. “He really had me convinced,” he says quietly. “He told me that he chased you off for your own good. And I believed him. Even after I saw Marco…”

Lance doesn't want to know what happened to Marco. He feels bad for his brother, and then he feels bad that he feels bad. It's better if he ignores it completely. He's not going home anytime soon, so it's not his problem anymore.

Keith sniffs. "I really can't go back to the foster home." He takes his hands away. "He asked me to keep an eye on you, and I'm obviously not going to snitch and tell him everything, but even an offhand comment from your mom or sister or someone, if we seem too close, your dad said he'd take you home and send me 'somewhere safer'." Keith rubs his face with his hands and stands up to pace.

Lance watches him from the bed.

"Lance," he says. "If your dad takes you back, I think he's gonna lock you up like Marco. I won't let that happen. I'll throw away everything if I have to to stop that, but…" He slumps against the wall and tilts his head dramatically against the window. "I'm sorry, but I'm going to be selfish. I can't go back to the home, Lance. So I'm going to play along for a while. Until I'm eighteen." He stands back up to face Lance, but he keeps his head down. "We shouldn't act close until then. It's just a few months, but…if you still like me in October, then…then we can do whatever you want."

Lance crawls across the bed to look at Keith. "I don't think it's selfish to protect yourself, Keith. I get it." He wants to hug him or hold his hand, but he refrains. "And Keith? If you still like me in October, I'll make sure it's worth the wait." He winks.

Keith is still upset, but he smiles kindly. "I look forward to that."

They keep their eyes on each other. They want to kiss, but they can't, so they don't, and Keith goes to sleep on the couch.