nysalogs | We were the victims of ourselves

[Her hand mirrors his, carding through the ends of his hair. It's longer than she remembered, grown out like the rest of him during his time with the Blade and she wondered if they were still the same height. It's impossible to tell like this, bodies curved together unevenly and legs entangled.

His words make her chest feel tight and her eyes burn. She hadn't been worried, but the reassurance washes over her all the same, bringing back those fragile and precious thoughts about trust and comfort.]

I'm not worried. [Voice soft. He's still worried about her, and that doesn't help the burning at her eyes, or the dryness of her throat, and her body shifts along with her thoughts, just a gentle adjustment of limbs that would go unnoticed were their bodies not slotted together like this.]

I— [Her voice is uneven, half muffled against his neck,] I cannot stop thinking about everything that happened. Back home. I keep trying to take my mind off of it, but all I can think about is everything I should have done differently.

[She's not sure why she suddenly decided to get talkative. It came suddenly, like Keith's decision to put them in this arrangement in the first place, pussyfooting just makes it weird.]

[He'll take her word, relieved to not...have to offer reassurance in relation to what they're doing -- what they're not doing. He's shit at expressing himself on a good day, nevermind trying to reassure Allura that it's totally fine to snuggle in an igloo for the greater good. He does, however, feel her go a bit rigid beneath his touch; against him.

For a moment, he assumes she's not being completely truthful. His hand drags back about an inch or so, just withdrawing from her hair, but still holding her in place. His fingers fall into a loose fist at the crook of her neck.]

Allura... [This would be less personal if literally any other paladin was around/had woken up, jeeze.] You mean when you saved the entire universe? [Including Shiro...] Sacrificing the castle was necessary.

[You say "Lotor" and then I say "WHO??"]

[She shakes her head.] The universe would not have been in danger in the first place, if not for me.

Going to Oriande, building the Sincline— I played right into Lotor's hands. He lied to everyone, but I'm the one who fell for him—

[She bites off that sentence too late, and it's out there, hanging in the air as awkwardly as any of the other energy that's been between them this evening. But she doesn't rush and try to amend it, or brush it under the proverbial rug. It's not a secret—she didn't keep secrets from her paladins, her friends—and even if it was, she'd made it incredibly obvious with the way she'd found every excuse to go spend time in Galra Central Command of all places, then float around the castle when she'd return. Stars, everyone except Keith had front row seats to their little lover's spat—My feelings for you are real.]

Those movements after he took the throne, I thought—For the first time, maybe, finally, there was future with the Galra other than fighting and he... I was touched that he was so interested in Altea. [It makes her sick, with the what they know now. His obsession ran deeper than she could have ever imagined. In any case, this is all too much, she's rambling. Rationalizing. Little by little, she's drawing away from Keith. Staying in place, but drawing into herself. Her leg slips back to lay on the ground, and her hand untangles from his hair, moving back around him to wipe at her eyes. Despite the obvious tears that are happening, when she speaks, it sounds more angry than sad.] I trusted him.

[This entire conversation has become a sandwich of FUCK wrapped in a bigger sandwich of SHIT. It's like nuanced things that Keith hasn't the capacity for. He opens his mouth to counter initially, but there's more and he's silent.

This is unrelatable content. Well, Lotor kinda saved his fucking life at one point and locking arms seemed like an okay idea, 75% based on that, the rest based on his seemingly okay bond with team Voltron, the latter being a third party observation. In the end, Allura was burned more harshly than the rest of them had been.]

So you're gonna take responsibility for everything the Galra ever did until now? How were you supposed to know none of it was true?

[He kinda fucked his own generals over too, not to say they should've taken a note from that -- quite the opposite.

Does anybody remember that time Lance came to him to have a heart to heart and started fretting over how there were too many pilots and he didn't really belong on the team and Keith kinda just told him he sucked at math and to shut up?]

You were being optimistic, he took advantage of something he shouldn't have.

[She's drawing away, she has been this whole time -- from going tense against him until this very moment. He's not sure whether to draw back just as well, let her catch her breath, or use that as impetus to keep her close. She...she's...not outright searching for comfort as much as venting...

Christ he shouldn't have to think about this for so long. He'll ease up against her once more, shift incrementally to make up for her retreat, extend his reach back into the depths at her nape (i'm guessin her hairs pulled up and hes fuckin ruining it with his piano fingers), compelling her closer to his neck.

Trust...can be a fickle thing; he's not going to claim that she can trust him, not because she can't...but it's cliche. She knows him well enough at this point to know he's not up to anything weird -- barring any cryptid exploits. He tucks his chin in, NONCHALANTLY resting his mouth against her forehead.

La, la la la.]

[His response is in true Keith fashion: no-frills and to-the-point. Cutting to the heart of the issue without dancing around too much the hows and whys. But he wouldn't say anything he doesn't mean, and that in of itself is comforting. It's not some magic fix—there's not anything other than time that will really mend the wound—but it's touches her heart all the same.

He pulls her in close, pressing his lips to her forehead (it's a kiss, no matter how narration describes it) and it's a warm feeling. More than the heat from their physical proximity, but the warmth of companionship. Being cared for and accepted. The comfort of knowing that no matter how much she messed up (and there's not much worse than being in bed (proverbially????) with the enemy), she was not on her own.

She responds by wrapping her arms around him once again, hugging tight and basking in his warm, solid, comforting presence. His companionship. It was love. Different from the sort that made her breath short and her heart race (though some of that might be happening as well), but an enduring bond that she shared with the silly little group of humans (and one half-galra) that came into her life.

Quietly,] Thank you, Keith. If not for you, we may have never— I wouldn't—

[She gives an aggravated sort of huff as she struggles for the proper words. For discovering the truth, for stepping up as a leader right when they needed it, for now. Finally, she lifts her head and, if narration may be so bold, presses a kiss to the corner of his mouth.]

Thank you.

[He's not sure what he expected -- actually, he kind of expected, in spite of his attempts, that she would reject him entirely and they'd have to reconfigure some way to keep warmth while being respectfully apart. It's the opposite, however, and Keith has very little to fuss over.

Her praise isn't at all necessary, though. There was a time where he'd nearly gotten everyone killed, then proceeded to withdraw from the team entirely. He's made plenty of mistakes, all of which he'd be happy to regale her with but she's k..issing...him. Kissing him for sure, at the moment -- a peck, not even, and too lopsided to hold a ton of merit in terms of Regular Mouth Kisses but it's significant in every goddamn conceivable way.

An immediate flush takes his cheeks; it isn't enough to melt the igloo, a vague pink hue that could easily be mistaken for rosiness from the cold -- a dusting...only he's too warm, she's close enough to feel that radiation. I didn't do anything sits at the tip of his tongue.

Maybe he's selfish; he can't recall the last time he'd desired -- outright desired something he'd been fine to endure without for years on end. Maybe it's because he never truly opened up about his time here with Lance, never really mourned that loss, but...acting on nothing more than instinct, he's responding to that word of thanks with belated reciprocation. His mouth seeks hers for a proper, deliberate kiss, pulse beating so hard in his ears he can't even lay the groundwork for an apology.

It's just happening. Everything happens so much.]

[It shouldn't be surprising, all of those innocuous movements were building to it and she'd instigated, but even so, it catches her off guard. It lasts only a tick, but then she's angling her head towards him, pulse ratcheting up to drown out her thoughts. Well, not all of them, but the rational, responsible (guilty) part of her is easily ignored for the part of her that longs for companionship, closeness, anything to mend the part of her heart that still ached from betrayal.

And for once, there's no ghost of the past over her shoulder, it's just the warmth of the both of them together, isolated a million miles from the homes and the lives they once had. Somehow, for the first time in the whole evening, the space between them felt hot, so much so that it's almost a blessing when the blanket shifts as she moves to loop her arms around his neck, drawing him in closer.

Eventually, inevitably, there's a break in the kiss, and before Keith can get it in himself to feel embarrassed, Allura leans in for another, murmuring against his lips, pleading,] Don't... Don't apologize.

[Don't stop.]

[His pulse immediately spikes.

He's not sure...what he expected. At all. Not this, not ever this. Reciprocation falls short when mentally weighed against physical assault, vomiting, a lecture -- he could have breached her trust just then, if not for those mutual sentiments.

Apparently.

He draws in a breath at that separation, prepared to apologize -- prepared to stammer over something he doesn't truly mean, but he isn't afforded the opportunity. Lips find his own and she's already quelling those repentant thoughts. The grip in her hair goes unintentionally rigid, not yet pulling, but a firm grip seizes a handful of hair as his own lips part to utter something in turn; instead, a tongue rises to tread the seam of her lips. It's accidental at first, but it happens and it doesn't seem like they're doing takebacks atm.

So when he draws back, it isn't without a pull to her fuller lip, drawing it between his own, sucking lightly. Had he not been dragon married like...six months ago, he may be scrambling and acting like a virginal prick about this entire thing.

Alas, he's easing into it. Not without some inhibitions, but he's doing great sweetie.]

[You really should tell someone about being dragon married before making out with them in a cold igloo but here we are.

So much is happening, like standing on the precipice of something they can't take back, but it's already happened. Hasn't it? She can't unkiss him no more easily than she can take back the soft noise she makes when he sucks on her lip. Even if she could take it back, she realizes she doesn't much want to.

He draws back and she follows, nudging him backwards, onto his back until her weight is on top of him, legs settling to frame his hips. It's then that she breaks the kiss, breath coming out unevenly as she looks down at him. Her purple-teal eyes are dilated, half-lidded and framed by her mussed hair that spills down around her shoulders.

Hand softly brushing his hair out of his eyes,] Is this... okay?

[She already said no apologizing but asking permission is different. And assuming his answer isn't no or he's trying to shove her off of him, she'll lean in again, nudging her lips against his, tongue pressing the seam between his lips, like he'd done to her moments ago, but hers is purposeful.]

[It's null and void, his ring's tucked into his bodysuit right now anyway...

Keith concedes too easily; he's on his back and a hand lifts to steady her by her hip, not pushing her away but bracing. There's no warmth lost between them; if anything, someone's turned up the thermo because is it me or is that a banana in Keith's pants??? Etc.

Just kidding -- well, partially. While Keith isn't so prone to succumbing to anything related to intimacy, she may feel something pulse between them. It's slight but present all the same, uh.

Is this okay? Probably not. This isn't how Bear Grylls retained warmth at the Soviet Vostok Station in Antarctica, but it's effective enough.

He doesn't hate this.

Rather than respond verbally, he gives a few quick nods, angles his chin up to meet her affection. His mouth purses at that intrusion, not blocking but offering some paltry adoration, a precursor of an invitation. His tongue will meet hers eventually, pulse threatening to beat apart his ribcage all the while.]

[On the flip side, Allura is too easily swayed by displays of intimacy. Too easily amped up by the unsteady pounding of her heart that makes her whole body feel on edge, reminiscent of the buzz of quintessence under her skin.

She angles her head to his, noses bumping together gently, an affectionate nuzzle, before she tilts her head, slanting her mouth to his so she can nudge her tongue into the heat of his mouth. It's a little stilted, exploratory and curious, but eager. It's not quite teenagers-making-out-in-the-back-of-the-car levels, but emblematic of someone with relatively few preconceived notions on how this is all meant to work. ~~(Does this mean Keith has secondhand kissed Lotor, and Allura has secondhand kissed Lance?)~~

Her hands trace the line of his jaw, delve into his hair. His body feels hot under hers, even through their bodysuits, and, in the back of her mind, she wonders if humans run a higher temperature naturally or if it's purely a reaction to... everything. Speaking of reactions, there's a... something, that pulse of something and there's a subtle roll of her hips against his. It's not quite intentional, just a slight shifting of her weight on his, but it's enough to send a bloom of heat that burns up into her neck, stirring a sigh against his mouth.]

[Allura has very little to worry about in terms of Whats Up and How To; she's straddling the most intimacy-incompetent fool on Nysa. He's rolling with the punches, allowing access with zero hesitancy. Remember five minutes ago when Keith was worried about spooning...

DID ALLURA FORGET TO BRUSH HER TEETH?? COME ON...COME ON....

the answer is yes.

There's an awkward, stuttering breath around their elaborate kiss. Any amount of friction provided to a developing erection is automatically over the top. It's the newness of it all, the foreign contact that has him throbbing fuller beneath her, shifting uncomfortably -- only because he's overthinking. Of course in doing so, he's rubbing up against her, whatever he can of her. Subtle ordinarily, but given their proximity and how every little change has lead to something bigger..

There's a hand subconsciously gripping at her hip, tugging the material of her undersuit to it, possibly giving her a wedgie in the process for all of her efforts....

Makin' progress???]

[Wedgies aren't the sexiest move on the planet, but it's also having the unintentional side effect of making her undersuit that much tighter in other areas which, when combined with the way he's rubbing up against her, through their suits.

She breaks from the kiss with a groan, resisting the urge to grind into him and, instead, shifts her weight just slightly south, straddling his thighs instead to relieve some of the pressure (At least for her. His erection is still pressing into her lower stomach but whatever.) She doesn't hate this, whatever it is developing between them, but it's... this is moving fast. Most of it is because of her but who's keeping track?

That hand is still uncomfortably tight in her suit, and she reaches down, fingers lacing with his own to ease it off of her hip. Cupping his hand in hers, she brings it up to her face, nuzzling her cheek into his palm, letting his fingers brush over her markings, before pressing a kiss to the center of it. It's a.... surprisingly romantic gesture (advanced Altean moves), compared to the way they'd been rubbing up against each other moments ago.]

[Wedgies are totally sexy...uncomfortable but sexy. Disclaimer: wedgies can also be hella bad.

His head tilts back, watching her with eyes half-lidded, seizing his lower lip with his teeth as she adjusts -- to what end, he's not entirely sure. There's still enough pressure on his groin to...kind of satiate him. He's not searching for more. The pressure's enough to keep him pinned. Eventually, his hand's seized, directed up, limp until his fingers find her face and frames to it. His thumb flexes over her cheek, shifting between it and her nose until it's brought to her lips.]

Allura...

[With a sigh. There's a very blatant blush spanning his cheeks. One could blame the warmth, but he's Em Bare Assed. He thinks to compliment her for a moment -- the way the snow reflects and emboldens certain features, the way she's regarding him. It's all swallowed for the sake of his usual rhetoric.]

Is this okay-?

[More or less. It's his turn to fuss.]

[She swallows hard, and when she speaks, it's with a small, nervous laugh,]

I don't know.

[Genuinely, honestly. She gently moves her head, so that his thumb brushes against her lips, almost thoughtfully, lazy eyes watching him all the while. Is this okay? She has so little experience with casual intimacy and surely there are rules against fraternizing with one of her fellow paladins. But they're so far from anything they thought their lives would be, and she never realized how touch-starved she'd become during... everything.

She parts her lips to suck gently on the flesh of his thumb,] I do not wish to stop.

[His thumb probes past her lips only after her response, not trying to prevent her response prior to. How thoughtful. It lingers for a moment, draws back to create some wetness at the corner of her mouth...

And then he's sitting up, for whatever reason, automatically positioning her in his lap in the process -- a move done out leverage, seeking control in something he knows very little about. His lips find hers, settling hard while urging her closer (if at all possible) with a hand trained to her waist. There's no verbal response to be found, just a silent agreement in the way he's pursuing her mouth -- probing lightly with his tongue, steadying her chin with a wet digit.

Unsure as he's been, he's on a steady path to confidence...or he's succumbing to lasciviousness. One in the same.]

[It takes no time to settle into their new arrangement, eyes fluttering closed as his lips once again find hers. She's quietly grateful that he did not draw away due to an answer that felt lukewarm; intimacy in Altean culture doesn't carry the same sort of stigmas that might be found elsewhere, yet the romantic tales from her youth suggest it follow whispers of longing, declarations of love said in verse. But that felt disingenuous.

Her lips part for him, a sigh bubbling up when his tongue passes beyond his mouth and into hers. Arms wrap loosely around his neck and she molds into him, their bodies slotted together close enough that she can feel the catch in his breath through his chest against hers. He's a solid presence; hard where she is soft, lean muscle against the plush of her breast, the curve of her thigh pressed against the angle of his hips.

Desire crests like an ocean wave, and without breaking the kiss, she finds his hand once again with her own, urging it down — to her breast — eyes slotting open briefly to watch for his reaction.]

[Their new arrangement offers new angles, a fresh round of something they'd been chasing for several minutes now. He'll train a hand to the small of her back, urging her ever-close without rocking in his seat -- fighting the urge to grind up against her. It'd be far too desperate of a move, too crass. He's meeting her tongue with his own in the meantime, mirroring her moves, withdrawing, giving chase...

A second hand slips downward, the destination unbeknownst to him. It settles over something soft, fleshy, discernible through her bodysuit. A harsh swallow marks the accidental ("accidental") gropage, fingers pause mid-retreat. She'd brought him here to start with.

There are two ways to fuck this up. One would be: acting like a big fucking baby, the other's a nonfactor (overzeal, probably). He'll knead at her breast then, pawing haphazardly while humming into their liplock, as though he were the one enduring that sensation.

He is, in a way.

He does think to ask if This Is Fine, but relents at the last moment. Pausing to bring up such things so frequently can only be detrimental. She'd let him know for sure. She's being more dominant of the two to start with.

In contrast to his uncertainty, the hand at his back may be toying with a zipper. Hm.]

[It's less dominance and more that Keith's waning shyness is making her more bold in turn, more willing to listen to that impulsive side of her and chase after whatever it is they're both after. (The alternative meant acknowledging that there is no way this is going to end without them awkwardly avoiding each other for the next three weeks.) It's instinctive, the way she sighs against his lips, swallowing his breath and falling out of sync with the pull and chase of his mouth as her attention is distracted by the knead of his hand.

She's getting into it, so much so that she barely notices the hand at her zipper at first, until the first tug and that suddenly has her attention. A breath catches in her throat and she breaks the kiss suddenly, sitting up straighter. It's not as if it was an unwanted gesture, just... another escalation. The concept of baring skin somehow more intimate than everything they've been doing thus far. Heat spreads across her cheeks, more from the overreaction than anything, and before Keith can apologize she hurries in to press a reassuring kiss to the line of his mouth.]

It's fine. It caught me by surprise, is all. [Her hand goes up to the nape of her own neck, drawing her hair around her shoulder, away from the zipping mechanism. She leans in close, her head to the side of his so he can see over her shoulder to see what he's doing.] Please.

[This is Keith being bold, too. The only reason he's got some direction here and isn't behaving like a full-fledged pillow queen is because he's...been here before. He knows the steps. It's just ("just") his company that's different, hence that latent s..hyness? The only time he's shy.

Though his boldness comes into question, though she tries to mollify it, maybe the problem's greater than their combined sense of modesty. Maybe it's too cold to get full naked and act up? Maybe she's urging him along because it's a matter of pride at this point -- something like that.]

Allura... [Murmured, lips aligned with her jaw; a line of affection finds its way up close to her ear, lips smearing back down to the base of that jutting bone.] We don't have to.

[Have to whatever; proceed in any way, rock against eachother until they're both properly satisfied. It won't erase past traumas but in the moment, it does't really matter. His fingers momentarily(?) abandon their spot at at her zipper, sneaking in past the teeth of that open connection to rub at her shoulders -- newly exposed skin.]

[Her breath catches in her throat when his lips drag back near her ear, his words a hot breath against her skin that makes her warm from the inside out. His hands are on her skin, and although his gloves are still between them, the touch burns through her, a warmth under his hands where the cold air had crept in. In a society of high collars and long sleeves, baring skin and being touched like this is a pretty intimate gesture. Hence her initial hesitation,]

If I wished you to stop...

[There's a touch of princess in that tone, though she doesn't mean to be pushy. Just clear. Which, to be fair, there hasn't been a lot of that since they started all of this fumbling. Her hands rub circles on his shoulders, then down the smooth expanse of his chest, tracing the contours f his musculature down to his sides, where her hands linger,]

I would not be here if I did not wish to be.

[”Here” in the most immediate sense. She didn't have much choice about the planet nor the igloo, but — sitting Keith's lap, with the taste of his kiss still lingering on her lips and his hands blazing a trail on her shoulders — she did not get here by accident.]

[His mouth remains ajar at the side of her throat, lips throbbing slightly against her pulse there. She almost -- she really doesn't need to finish that sentence at all. The start of something rhetorical. He won't simply yank her zipper down at that, however. He'll wait for her to make amends, teeth drawn out over flesh. Five fingers move along her side from her chest, offering her hip a light squeeze before trekking back up to cup the underside of her breast.

All systems are a go; he'll refrain from questioning anything (or saying anything) for the next five minutes. In the meantime, he'll busy his lips with working that dark skin between them, pulling and sucking on the spot, aggravating it while finally adding some weight to that zipper, slowly nudging it downward in a fluid motion to expose more of her. More of her...unseen to him at such an angle.

He's got a better seat anyway.

Once he supposes he's left an adequate bruise, he'll unattached with a wet sound, bump his nose against it in a pseudo-remorse.

...Acknowledgement, really. He's pleased with himself.]

Edited 2018-09-19 04:31 (UTC)

[Her head cants to the side while his mouth works a spot into her neck and hums her approval at his renewed enthusiasm. He pulls the zipper lower, exposing the smooth expanse of her back, and making the top of her suit hang loose, but she doesn't yet move to help pull it down. She's content enough in the moment to bask in his attention, the weight of his hand on her breast, the pull and tug of his lips on skin that grows more sensitive as he works it relentlessly, until it dawns on her the full extent of what he's doing — marking her.

The sudden heat that runs to her face is nearly enough to make her dizzy, but it's not nearly as bad as the heat that pools low, between her legs, when he detaches, making a sound that borders on obscene. She can feel her pulse hammering under the bruised skin he left behind, aching and wet from the heat of his mouth. She moans and shifts in her seat, rolling her hips against his to ease the tension building there. It doesn't work.]

Again. [To herself, her voice sounds thick and heady, although that could be because of the blood pounding in her ears. She swallows hard,] Mark me again.

Edited (I forgot a funny subject line) 2018-09-19 22:48 (UTC)

[In hindsight, marking her is a terrible idea. It's proof of his time here, proof that he was here at all. It's high enough, theoretically, to peek over the edge of her high collar -- he hadn't put much consideration into any of this....

But then she's urging another, and who's he to deny it? Warm, heavier breaths find that wet spot and his head angles lower; the crook of her neck's been exposed enough for him to work the spot perpendicular to her collarbone. At the same time, his hand's fallen from the small of her back, confidence-a-plenty, it ends up curving over the round of her ass, not trying to inhibit her grinding because that's pleasant as hell, but there's a hold there to compete with the same filth that's seized her underboob.

He isn't so bold as to pull away to verbally request a continuation of whatever that movement is because his erection is most definitely coming into contact with some part of her that only fuels the draw of his mouth, but there is some subtle shifting, a quiet hum marks a half second before he's detaching to regard that purplish bruise with a hazy look. It's a fleeting review. His head's bowing forward to nose that pesky material out of the way, kiss at whatever newly exposed skin he can.

Now we're cookin'...]

[One could say that one of the major draws of covering 90% of your body is that it leaves a lot of room for secret hickies but it's fine.

There's a pleased noise as he obliges, his mouth finding the base of her neck to tease into a sore spot. It's obscene, to allow her body to be marked in such a way, even if it's temporary, and she can feel her skin burn, heating from inside. The hand on her backside is encouragement enough to give another roll of her hips, this time not shying away from the pressure she feels through the fabric of his suit, instead encouraged on by the way it made him react, in the subtle change of his mouth against her skin, or the dig of his fingers into her flesh.

He's nosing lower, and finally Allura removes her hands from around his sides, leaning back a bit in his lap to give her some room to maneuver, so she doesn't smack him in the face when she eases the jump suit from her arms, tugging the material loose from her fingers first, then peeling it down from around her shoulders, down her arms, and then, boldly with the rest of the top half of the suit, until it's left to hang loosely at the top of her hips, exposing herself from the waist up.

And... she thought she'd be ready for the cold, as warm as her cheeks and face felt, but the chill bites at the newly exposed skin, causing gooseflesh across her arms, as well as other, more fun, bodily reactions to the cold. It turns out Alteans aren't too different from humans in this manner. She sucks in a breath and resists covering her breasts with her hands, or leaning in close to him for warmth and a lingering sense of modesty, but that defeats the point of baring herself to him in the first place.]

"touching Keith's mullet counts as second base" - me 2018

that was a really good statement tbh

this tag is a mess I'm sorry

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

she's pushy when they're making out I'm sorry

dom him

fdsjklfs this would be the saddest dom situation, they're both so awkward

switches...they're switches

the most awkward switches

they just need some more street cred

stares bleakly

you're nothing without your funny subjects

no subject