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Lance wasn’t planning on spending Valentine’s Day with Shiro, but life had a funny way of throwing him curveballs.
The taqueria Lance chose was decked out with heart-shaped twinkle lights and an ocean of pink and red heart balloons floating up to the ceiling. Silver ribbons from the balloons descended across the main dining area like a field of billowing, platinum seaweed.
“So, uh, what’s new?” Lance asked, reaching for a chip.
Shiro looked as awkward as Lance felt. He was in his civilian clothing — a tight black turtleneck, and black jeans, gold frames perched high on his nose.
“Got a fresh crop of cadets. They’re a good bunch. Some real talent there.”
His response was clipped and stiff, and Lance snapped a chip in half, regretting for the millionth time his offer of dinner. He only saw Shiro once or twice a year, but he’d been at the Garrison earlier to send packages to Hunk and Keith, and they ran into each other.
One thing led to another, and pleasantries turned into plans.
Even in his late thirties, Shiro was still as handsome as he’d been at 25. He was still sharp cheekbones and full lips and stunning eyes. He might even look better with age.
Except for the silver hair. Lance had never been a fan of that.
“That sounds like a bullshit answer.”
“It’s not bullshit,” Shiro said, adjusting his glasses. “But I admit it is boring.”
He sighed and took a sip of his margarita.
“Tired of the fame?”
Shiro snorted a laugh. “I’d hardly say I’m famous.”
He’d done a few commercials after retiring, a few public speaking events, and eventually, he became a household name — the hero of Atlas and Voltron. For the most part, things had died down as time went on, but the spotlight still managed to find Shiro on occasion.
“You’re a hero! You went to the Olympics.”
“First of all, that was a while ago. And second, you came with me! I gave you a ticket. The whole team was there. Besides, they only wanted me there to show that they ‘care about the troops.’ It’s just a PR move.”
“Whatever. You’re a legend.”
“I wouldn’t go that far,” Shiro said with a slight eye roll, shrugging his shoulders, which rustled the ribbons dangling around him. “I don’t know. I just feel...apathetic? I mean I’ve always been a nihilist, but lately, even the things I typically like aren’t making me happy.”
Shiro’s divorce from Curtis was an unspoken elephant that sat between them on the table, but Lance wasn’t willing to go there. It was still a fresh wound. Less than a year. Something they hadn’t ever discussed.
Lance needed Shiro to bring it up first.
“Maybe you just need a change. Get a dog. Start a new career. Color that awful hair,” Lance said without thinking — a theme for the day.
“What?” Shiro’s hand stopped with a taco halfway to his mouth.
“Nothing!”
“You hate my hair?”
Lance flushed and let out an awkward chortle of not-quite laughter. “Noooo, no, of course not! I love it. It’s great. So sexy.”
Lance felt his face heat further, and he took a long sip of his drink.
“You hate my hair,” Shiro repeated, his eyes narrowing. “What’s wrong with it?”
A lie was on the tip of Lance’s tongue, but he bit it back.
“The color?” Lance replied after a beat of silence, biting his bottom lip and sucking in a nervous breath.
Shiro’s mouth twisted down, his thick brows drawing together.
“I get a lot of compliments on the gray,” Shiro murmured, and Lance hated that he sounded hurt.
“The gray is amazing,” Lance said. “It looks good! You’re a silver fox for sure.”
Shiro pursed his lips and gave Lance an indignant stare.
“What? It does! It’s just...well. I can’t help but wonder what it would look like with your natural color. Like before the white poof even. Like your pre-Kerb photo.”
Lance had stared at that thing almost every night when Shiro went missing. He’d always had a crush on him, even back then. But Allura came along, and Lance had never quite recovered from the imprint she’d had on his heart.
“Fuck it,” Shiro said. “I’m game.”
“Really?”
“Yeah, I think I do need a change. I’ve felt like a geezer for the last ten years. I’m ready to feel like myself again.”
Lance grinned. “Alright. We can totally make this happen.”
Shiro went to find their server and settle up the check while Lance tapped open his phone and ordered a car. It took them seven minutes to get to the nearest drug store and another twenty for Lance to select a color he was sure would work on gray. He also made sure to grab a bottle of cheap champagne and a box of chocolates.
By the time they made it back to Shiro’s apartment, they were both laughing, their noses tipped pink by the cold.
“So, where do you wanna do this?” Lance asked, handing Shiro the bottle of champagne.
Shiro popped the cork in a dish towel and poured two glasses.
“The bathroom,” Shiro answered.
Shiro handed Lance a glass.
“To the new you,” Lance said. “May your new hair bring you much joy.”
They grinned at each other and clinked their glasses together. Lance took a sip, and Shiro picked up the box of dye, inspecting the instructions.
“Shall we?” Shiro asked.
“Let’s do it.”
Lance carried his champagne to the bathroom, following Shiro down the hallway to his master suite. Shiro’s apartment was luxurious — a far cry from Lance’s farm — but then again, he could afford it.
Shiro studied himself in the mirror, sifting his fingers through his hair.
“It’s gonna look good, right?”
Lance tisked. “I’m offended you even asked. It’s gonna look great.”
Lance opened the box and told Shiro to grab a stool from his bedroom.
“Sit,” Lance said.
Shiro obeyed, and Lance got to work mixing the dye, plastic gloves covering his hands. Shiro sat with his back to Lance, and he stripped off his shirt, tossing it on the floor. He’d obviously kept his strict training regimen, his shoulders still broad, his back perfectly sculpted.
Lance’s cock stirred, and a bolt of desire rippled down his spine.
“I feel like I’m fifteen again,” Lance blurted out.
Shiro chuckled, and Lance startled babbling to cover his embarrassment.
“I, uh, used to do this for my sisters all the time. At least the dyes are better now. Once I dyed Veronica’s hair the worst shade of puke green. Called it witch puke.”
Shiro laughed again, and it was music to Lance’s ears.
The bathroom was small, and in such close quarters, Lance could feel the heat rolling off Shiro’s body. How long had it been since he’d been with someone? Since he’d bantered like this?
Sure, there had been partners here or there over the years — mostly one-night stands — but the simmering warmth in Lance’s belly told him maybe it was time to address his needs.
“You ready?” Lance asked as he picked up the bottle, trying to focus on anything other than the buzzing beneath his skin.
“Ready as I’ll ever be.”
Lance squirted some of the thick, black dye on his palm and rubbed his hands together.
“Here we go.”
Shiro shivered at the first contact but quickly relaxed beneath Lance’s touch. Every so often, he would omit a soft sigh or purr of pleasure.
“This’s surprisingly good,” Shiro mumbled as massaged along his scalp, careful to evenly distribute the dye on Shiro’s roots.
“I’m glad,” Lance said, lightly scratching his nails in gentle circles. “This is actually turning out to be a pretty good Valentine’s Day.”
“Yeah. I’m shocked. I thought I’d be drinking alone, watching reruns of trashy reality TV.”
Lance laughed. “I didn’t think you had a trashy side, but that’s good to know.”
“It’s one of the many bad habits I’ve picked up since….” Shiro trailed off, his shoulders lifting in a heavy sigh. “Since the divorce.”
Lance’s hands stilled. He picked up the bottle to add more dye, thinking of what he wanted to say, knowing he couldn’t avoid the conversation any longer.
“I’m sorry you had to go through that,” Lance replied softly, trying and failing to keep his sorrow from bubbling up.
“It’s okay. If I’m being honest, things with Curtis were over a long time ago.”
“I know. I just...I know what it’s like to lose someone you love.”
“Oh, Lance,” Shiro stood in a flash, turning to pull Lance into his arms.
Lance managed to set the bottle down just in time, holding his arms out so the gloves wouldn’t stain Shiro’s skin.
“I’m so sorry,” Shiro murmured, his cheek pressed against Lance’s hair, arms wrapped firmly around Lance’s middle. “I know you still miss her.”
Lance opened his mouth to speak, but couldn’t find his voice. Instead, tears begin to trickle down his cheeks.
“I miss her so much,” he said, a sob wracking his frame.
“It’s okay. I know,” Shiro whispered, his big hands stroking circles along Lance’s back. “I miss...having someone, too. It’s not the same, but I can understand the loneliness.”
Lance sniffled, and Shiro reluctantly released his hold. His thumbs brushed the tears from Lance’s cheeks, traveling up to graze the blue marks beneath his eyes.
“I can’t believe I’m crying,” Lance said with a watery laugh. “Should be able to keep it together by now.”
“It’s okay that you still miss her,” Shiro murmured. “You deserve to be happy.”
Lance leaned his face into Shiro’s palm. His eyes fluttered shut. The tears slowly stopped, but Shiro couldn’t let go. He felt like he was in a trance, his thoughts turning to white noise as Lance’s face filled his field of vision.
The energy between them shifted, charged with a newly formed tension, an electric current that was pulling them closer — two wandering souls bound together by the red strings of fate.
“You’re beautiful,” Shiro said, his voice a low thrum.
Lance opened his eyes, Shiro’s gaze pinned to him, heavy and intent. His thumb slid along Lance’s jaw, stopping at his chin.
“I don’t want to be alone tonight,” Lance whispered.
He leaned up, and Shiro met him halfway.
Their kiss was long and slow, the firm press yielding to something deeper, Shiro’s hand dipping lower to cup the curve of Lance’s hip. They broke apart, but only for a split second, their mouths finding one another again, Shiro’s tongue following the seam of Lance’s lips.
Lance’s arms were tired, and he folded them in, uncaring that his gloves smeared streaks of dye on them, ruining his shirt and smudging across Shiro’s torso.
“Think this is a good idea?” Lance let out his question in a husky sigh.
Like he already knew the answer.
“Don’t think,” Shiro answered, kissing the corner of his mouth. “Just feel.”
The simple phrase tore down the last of Lance’s resolve. He kissed Shiro back with everything he had — letting loose every impulse he’d shut down over the years and every spark of hope he had for the future.
They moved against each other naturally, as if they were made to fit together. Shiro pulled Lance’s smaller frame into the curve of his body and devoured him.
Lance was practically sitting on the counter, Shiro pinning him against the granite. Shiro’s thigh nudged against Lance’s growing erection, and Lance moaned into his mouth, shamelessly grinding against him.
“Sorry,” he said. “It’s been a while.”
“Same here,” Shiro replied, nibbling at Lance’s bottom lip.
Dye dribbled from Shiro’s head onto Lance’s cheek, and they both froze before sharing the intimate, silent laughter that could only be communicated by old friends.
“We should probably take care of your hair before we go any further.”
“We’re going further?” Shiro asked, cocking a brow.
“Takashi Shirogane, if you think you can kiss me like that and not fuck me, we’ve got serious problems.”
Shiro’s laugh was bright and bold, and it warmed Lance’s heart.
“I should jump in the shower,” Shiro said, taking off his glasses. “You wanna join?”
Lance swallowed hard.
“Yes, please.”
He shucked off his clothes in record speed while Shiro got the water going. Lance was greedy, watching Shiro undress as he plucked at the gloves, peeling them off and wadding them into a ball.
“Trash?”
Shiro hummed, taking the plastic from him and tossing it into a nearby trash can. Lance trailed his finger through a streak of the dye that was still wet on Shiro’s chest.
“Oooh!” Shiro jumped back, shivering. “That tickles.”
Lance grinned, and Shiro grabbed his wrist, tugging him back into his embrace.
“Behave,” he said, swatting Lance’s ass, and Lance moaned aloud.
“Since when were you such a kinky bastard?”
“I could say the same about you,” Shiro said before his mouth came crashing down for another kiss.
There was no room for more small talk, their bodies in sync as they explored each other. They kissed and suckled at each other until Shiro pulled Lance into the shower.
The hot water was like a cocoon, enveloping them into its steamy embrace. Shiro stood with his back to the spray and tilted his head so he could rinse out the dye. It swirled on the white subway tile like squid ink, impossibly dark as it spiraled down the drain.
“You still have some around your ears,” Lance said.
He tried to help, but Shiro was too tall for Lance to reach.
“I have an idea,” Shiro said.
Lance’s eyes rounded as Shiro sank to his knees in front of him.
“Don’t wimp out on me now,” Shiro said, and Lance didn’t have time to reply before Shiro brought his mouth to the tip of Lance’s cock.
“Holy shit,” he whimpered, and Shiro swallowed him down.
Lance’s brain short-circuited, the competing sensations temporarily paralyzing him. He was overstimulated, but it was so good, he didn’t dare complain.
Shiro was directly under the spray, and after Lance regained his wits, he used his fingertips to help wash away the dye, tugging at Shiro’s hair as he bobbed up and down.
Steam filled the shower, making it difficult to see, but it didn’t matter because Lance was all sensation. Every nerve ending was a livewire, the hot water no match for the scorching lust pummeling him as Shiro worked him with his tongue.
“Y-You’re really g-good at this,” Lance stammered out. “I’m not gonna last much longer if you keep it up.”
Shiro pulled off. “We can’t have that.”
He rose, kissing Lance so he could taste himself. Lance groaned. He melted against Shiro, his cock trapped against Shiro’s hard stomach. Lance rutted his hips desperately.
“Please,” he whined, and Shiro growled, sucking a bruise into Lance’s neck before he shut off the water.
Shiro grabbed a towel, helping Lance over the side of the bath. He barely managed to dry them both before he was lifting Lance onto the counter.
Lance yelped, his back pressed against the mirror, ass hanging off the edge.
“Are you clean?” Shiro asked, his hands planted on either side of Lance’s hips.
“From the shower?”
“No,” Shiro said with a grin. “Have you been tested recently?”
“Oh!” Lance giggled. “Yes. I mean, it’s been a while since I’ve been tested, but yes. I’m clean.”
“Good,” Shiro answered, opening the drawer next to Lance’s leg and grabbing a bottle of lube. “Me, too.”
Shiro squirted lube onto his fingers and stepped between Lance’s parted thighs. Shiro’s fingertips were cold as he trailed them behind Lance’s balls, probing for his entrance.
“Touch yourself,” Shiro murmured, and Lance obliged, stroking his cock as Shiro massaged his hole.
He managed to press the tip of one digit past the tight ring of muscle, and Lance keened.
“Fuck! It’s been too long.”
Shiro trailed kisses along Lance’s collarbone, gathering up Lance’s free hand and pinning it above his head. His finger slid in further, and one finger turned to two, and Shiro scissored them open. Lance spread his legs further, and Shiro added a third.
“Please, Shiro. I’m ready. I need you.”
Shiro kissed him as he withdrew his fingers. He released Lance’s wrist and found the lube, squirting a hefty dollop on his cock. Shiro’s size didn’t intimidate Lance, his mouth watering as he watched Shiro’s fist roll up and down his impressive length.
“You’ve got a gorgeous cock,” Lance said. “Anybody ever tell you that?”
“Maybe once or twice,” Shiro answered, lining himself up.
Lance wrapped his legs around Shiro’s waist, and he sighed as Shiro nudged past his rim.
“So good.”
Shiro kissed his cheek, his jaw, the sensitive spot behind his ear, before driving in halfway.
“Yes!”
Shiro paused, giving Lance time to adjust before he began a languid roll of his hips. Lance wrapped his arms around Shiro’s neck, his back squeaking against the mirror as Shiro thrust into him.
Lance brought their mouths together, and Shiro sank into the hilt, his tongue catching Lance’s cry. The pressure of Shiro inside was almost enough to make Lance come, but he held on, taking deep breaths. It had been so long since anything, but his dildo had filled him like this. Lance intended to savor it.
He whispered words of praise in Shiro’s ear as he licked the shell, pulling the lobe between his teeth. Shiro groaned, rearing back only to slam home again, his cock glancing along Lance’s prostate.
“Hold on,” Shiro ordered, and Lance tightened his hold around Shiro’s neck.
His pace became frantic, pounding into Lance and driving him closer and closer to the edge. Lance felt like a ragdoll, his muscles clenching, legs tightening around Shiro’s waist.
“I’m gonna— Gonna come!” Lance sobbed, dropping a hand between them to paw frantically at his throbbing erection.
Shiro moved faster, hammering into him harder, his emotions raw as he fucked Lance into oblivion.
“Come for me,” Shiro snarled, and Lance obeyed, spurting over his knuckles.
Lance let out a wail of pleasure that ricocheted around the small space.
Shiro kept moving, his hips stuttering as he chased after his release, his hands holding Lance’s hips with bruising force. Lance focused on his body, clamping around Shiro’s length.
“Shit! Shit shitshitshit! ”
Shiro came with a shout, his hips fucking into Lance in a staccato of sporadic thrusts before he buried himself fully and stilled.
Lance clung to Shiro, their dewy skin sticking together.
“Happy Valentine’s Day,” Lance said in a garbled whimper, his chin resting on his chest as he tried to regain his breath.
Shiro bent over Lance, his forehead pressed against the mirror. He could only give a thumbs up in response.
They slowly pulled apart, the air in the room thick and muggy. Shiro helped Lance onto the toilet and gave him some privacy to clean up. He got dressed and found a pair of briefs and a t-shirt for Lance to borrow.
“Do you wanna stay over?” Shiro asked as he handed the clothes to Lance.
“That’d be nice,” Lance said with a shy smile.
“Wanna watch a movie or something?”
“Only if we can finish the champagne and chocolates.”
“Of course,” Shiro answered.
They cleaned up the bathroom and wandered back out into the living area. There was an ‘L’ shaped couch and a gratuitously large flatscreen tv. Shiro turned it on and told Lance to pick something to watch while he retrieved their bounty.
Lance scrolled through the channels, grateful that the Coalition had thought to connect Earth to entertainment from other planets. He flipped through the romcoms, but nothing jumped out, so he went to Shiro’s queue.
“How about Olkarion’s Next Top Model?”
“Perfect,” Shiro said, handing Lance the chocolates while he set two glasses of champagne on the coffee table.
He flopped down next to Lance on the couch, who had already begun feasting on the assortment of truffles.
“So, what do you think about my hair?” Shiro asked.
Lance curled into Shiro’s side, pressing a chocolate to Shiro’s lips. He watched as Shiro’s mouth parted, and his tongue swiped the morsel inside.
“I love it,” Lance replied, his smile so full he felt like his face might split from trying to hold that much happiness.
He carded his fingers through Shiro’s hair, and Shiro blushed, swallowing his bite.
“Me, too.”