
Posted originally on the Archive_of_Our_Own at https://archiveofourown.org/
works/13185897.
  Rating:
      Explicit
  Archive Warning:
      Underage
  Category:
      M/M
  Fandom:
      Voltron:_Legendary_Defender
  Relationship:
      Lance/Shiro_(Voltron)
  Character:
      Lance_(Voltron), Shiro_(Voltron)
  Additional Tags:
      Daddy_Kink, Porn_With_Plot, lots_of_feelings, Lance_is_fragile, Shiro_is
      a_good_boyfriend, this_is_so_sensual, Yikes, blah_blah_underage_because
      they're_cannon_aged
  Stats:
      Published: 2017-12-29 Words: 1553
****** You're safe with me. ******
by martinnn
Summary
     Shiro is Lance’s safe haven. <3
Notes
     you know, typically i'm a sheith kinda guy, but this_drawing messed
     me UP.
     characters are of cannon age. if you're going to throw a fit about
     it, please leave.
The first time was an accident… he thinks.
It was after a difficult mission and there was more than one instance where
Lance thought they’d almost lost Shiro. So, when after a few hours of slow and
heavy sex, Lance had laid curled against Shiro, tears unshed in his eyes, and
mumbled a soft, “Thank you. I love you, Daddy.”
Shiro had shifted to look down at him. “Hmm? What’d you say, baby?”
Lance just shook his head and burrowed deeper into Shiro’s chest. “‘s nothing.
I just-- you really scared me today.”
Shiro chuckled and tightened his hold on the boy. “C’mon now. Do you really
think I’d leave you so easily?”
Lance shook his head, but then paused. If Shiro knew about Lance’s issues with
his family, if he knew about his problems with dependency… would he really want
to stay? Lance forced these thoughts out of his head. He would just have to
watch his mouth.
Now, for any other person, that might have been easy. But Lance was quickly
finding out that he was Lance freaking McClain and he was bold and he went with
his gut and nothing ever slowed down enough in his head.
And the way Shiro was rolling his hips forward currently was leaving Lance
breathless. “Hah-- hah… fuck… fuck! Shiro!”
Shiro panted above him, propped up on his hands. “You like that, baby? Feel
good? God--”
Lance threw his head back, hooking his arm over his eyes in ecstasy. His blush
had spread down his whole body, nerves alight and brain foggy. So foggy that
the babble coming from his mouth wasn’t really processing in his head. “S-
Shiro, harder, please, please more, da-- no fuck, Shiro.” His name is Shiro,
Lance.
But the older man’s grunts spurred him on. With a few more well timed thrusts
to that one special bundle of nerves, Lance was melting. His hand left his face
to instead scramble for purchase on Shiro’s back. His nails left light pink
grooves into already scared skin. He cried. “Shiro! Fuck!” There were hot tears
in his eyes. His brain was fried. He just let go. He couldn’t stop. “Shiro!
Fuck! Daddy!” He almost choked.
Shiro did choke. He stopped moving immediately and Lance’s arms fell over his
face again. Now the tears were really there. They ran down his face as Lance
shook his whole head and body. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry. Fuck. I didn’t mean it.
It just slipped out, please don’t be mad. It was an accident. I--”
He was cut off by a low chuckle and his blood went cold. Shiro was laughing.
Shiro was laughing at him. Lance was expecting anger or disgust but this was so
much more worse. “Shiro… Fuck, I’m so sorry.”
“What are you sorry about?” Warm, strong hands rubbed over the arms that hid
his face, slowly trying to pull them away.
Lance shook his head. He didn’t want to see Shiro’s face, he didn’t want Shiro
to mock him, didn’t want the inevitable banishment and shame that was surely
coming.
“Hey, Lance, come on baby, don’t be like that. Look at me.”
It took another moment of convincing, but eventually Lance let his arms be
pulled away from his face and his wet lashes pulled apart as he opened his
eyes. He still wouldn’t meet Shiro’s face, his eyes stayed downcast and his
bottom lip stayed between his teeth. There was a hand on his cheek, a warm,
human hand. Another sob caught in his throat.
“Baby… I’m sorry for laughing. I wasn’t laughing at you. Come on, dry your eyes
now. I’m not mad. I’m not upset at all. Look at me, baby.”
Shiro’s word reached him through cluttered thoughts and Lance’s eyes eventually
shifted to meet the man’s. Dark grey irises were soft and gentle as they looked
over his face. “Baby boy, don’t be ashamed. I’m proud of you… For showing me
that part of you. Does that make you feel better? To call me that?”
Lance swallowed thickly and nodded.
Shiro’s smile was nothing but gentle, his eyes soft. “Do you like to be my baby
boy?”
Lance nodded with that thick lump still in his throat. He quirmed a bit on the
bed, Shiro’s cock still buried inside him and initial shame slowly dissipating.
“Do you want daddy to take care of you?”
Lance’s last nod was more enthusiastic. He let out a small purr and his hips
shifted again.
Shiro showed him a soft grin and wrapped his arms around Lance’s torso. He
pulled them up into a sitting position, chest to chest. Lance’s legs fell to
either side of Shiro’s hips and he sank down fully on Shiro’s cock. Shiro
captured his lips in a hot tangle of tongue and teeth. His hands wiped tears
from Lance’s face. “Good boy,” he purred. “You’re such a good boy for me. You
can let go now. I’ve got you, darling.”
So Lance does. His muscles slowly unfurl and he relaxed as Shiro took control,
one arm around his back and the other cupping his ass. Shiro rocks up steadily,
moving Lance’s weak body with his thrusts. Lance has to cover his mouth with
his hand, overcome with emotion. Shiro’s palms are warm and large and
comforting as they hold Lance like anchors. He is no longer lost at sea. Shiro
is here. Daddy is here. He is held.
“D-Daddy…” Lance pants out, a whisper against the palm of his hand.
Shiro’s lips have found his neck. He lathers the tan skin with kisses and
kitten licks. “It’s okay, baby,” he hums. “You can say it, darling. You’re safe
with me.”
Lance hiccups into his hand and almost chokes again. “Da-Daddy, oh.”
Shiro rolls his hips and hits that spot again and the tears are back in his
eyes. Shiro loves him that much. “That’s right.” Shiro’s lips are right against
his pulse point. His breath is searing hot but his lips are tender as he speaks
against Lance’s skin. “I’ve got you, my precious boy. My cherished one.”
And got him he does; Lance had never felt more secure. He physically feels the
weights of worlds roll off his tired shoulders. He cries. “Daddy. Daddy. Daddy,
I--” There is a heat coiling low in his gut.
Shiro hums. “Are you going to cum, baby?” The hand that was at his back slid
around to the front to fist Lance’s semi-limp dick. It is with his real hand,
the pad of his thumb is rough where it rubs against the underside of the head.
Lance keens. His hands wrap around Shiro’s shoulders, face burrowed in the meat
of his own upper arm. Shiro’s hips buck up once, twice, and his hand moves with
the thrusts and then Lance is spilling between them with a broken, “Daddy! D-
Daddy!”
Red and white flash behind his eyes. He is dizzy and he had his own skin
between his teeth as he screws his eyes shut and rides out the waves of his
orgasm.
Shiro is still beneath him. His robotic arm has trailed up to weave fingers in
Lance’s hair, holding the boy against him. “Good boy,” he purrs. “That’s it. My
good boy. God, I love you.”
Lance sniffles. The shaking slowly leaves his body. He lifts his head. In his
haze, he hadn’t realized Shiro had finished too; the man hadn’t shown any signs
of painting his insides with heat. As he shifted, he could feel it. And this
brought him an odd sort of comfort.
Shiro was watching him, pupils blown. His hand splays against Lance’s stomach,
perhaps sensing his own warmth, the warmth that Lance feels. Slowly, his hand
travels up. His fingers run over soft muscles, they slip into the divots of
Lance’s ribs. It is tender and sensual and had Lance biting his lip all over
again. Shiro’s eyes catch onto this nervous tick. The hand in his hair curls,
metal scratching his scalp ever so lightly.
His tears have dried. His fear and insecurities have left. He is with his safe
holding. Shiro plants a kiss between his eyes, then another two on his high
cheekbones and lastly, one on his lips, a long and drawn out one. When he pulls
back, Lance’s mouth has morphed into a pliant grin. Shiro mirrors his smile.
“How was that, angel?”
Lance nods dumbly. His hands thread themselves into the short hairs at the
sides of Shiro’s head. He thinks Shiro needs a haircut. Words have left him.
But Shiro understands. Shiro, who knows him as well as he knows himself,
understand that it was good, that is was perfect, that it was exactly what
Lance needed without him having to utter a word. Shiro presses another kiss
into the Lance’s forehead.
The boy is slipping. He is so tired. Shiro lays him down, slips out and away
long enough to collect a warm rag and cleans him with it.
And then they lay, face to face, under soft sheets. Lance traces patterns into
Shiro’s chest, Altean letters that he’s learned. Shiro doesn't keep up with
what he’s writing. He brushes a hand through Lance’s hair and watches as the
boy, for the first time in a long time, falls into a peaceful, dreamless,
undisturbed slumber.
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