bobyclob



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    Lance’s hands were relief- the oil on them had them gliding over Keith’s skin, working over Keith’s tender muscles, releasing the tension and untying the knots deep in the tissue. Keith doesn’t think he has ever been touched for so long or so intentionally. It felt beautiful, if beauty could be a physical sensation. So good, so good, so good. He tried not to groan but he could barely trap it in his throat. It snuck out, his vocal cords vibrating his body.

    “Oh, crap, did I-?” Lance began to raise his hands but Keith reached around and grabbed his slippery fingers in his own.

    “No-” Keith looked into Lance’s face in the mirror, ignoring the way his own face looked wrecked, blissed out. “Please. Don’t stop.”

    Lance breathed out one long shaky breath, staring at Keith. “O-okay.”

    Or

    Keith is touch starved, and that's a metaphor for his life. Lance is good for him.

    Language:
    English
    Words:
    11,557
    Chapters:
    3/3
    Comments:
    68
    Kudos:
    1,463
    Bookmarks:
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    26 Oct 2024