sorry this took so long, i wrote it out by hand first. turns out that's a good way to automatically have a chance to edit things as you move it over

video just in case you want to hear the song that inspired today's update. songs get me in the flow i guess. grouplove was recommended to me by Almighty_Llamacorn

The dream is fuzzy, moments blurr and press into the implied hours of time. The tempo of the dream marches faster than I can stand in all this speeding stillness. I feel like I'm clinging to a merry-go-round. Allura is there, at the center of the dreamscape, watching me from perhaps the only safe center-point. She commands time to stop, and it does.

Cool and dispassionate, she closes the distance between us. I've never seen Allura look at me with such intent. I can do nothing but watch helplessly as she takes off her clothes. I can hardly believe what's happening, but I allow her to maintain control, to implement herself on me. She weaves with me a moment of uncharacteristically dirty and regardless love.

The moment or maybe-hour feels different but distantly akin to the way Keith and I have made love. She ends a kiss with the promise to never leave me, only to then wordlessly rise from the bed and part ways without a second glance. That all feels real. I feel so cold as she goes, degenerating into a stringy mess of congealed anger that's loosely attached to muscles and tendons by veins of frosty regret. I shake my head, close my eyes tight, blindly call into the cavern of space between her and I, hopelessly fighting the irrefutable tears.

After the tears build, I have no choice but to blink. I open my eyes into the real world, the salt and water and sleep blurring my initial perception. Oh, good, only a dream. Keith is gone from the bed, perhaps left at the same time as dream-Allura. The morning is chillingly dark and cold without him, just as the nightmare— I'm realizing that ordeal was probably less like a dream and more like a nightmare— had become.

He may not be the sole reason for the chill, in all fairness. This room always has a draft in the morning. I curl into my blankets, seeking shelter from the dank world beyond my blankets. The whirlpool inside my head is practically inescapable, though. I don't want to go back to sleep just to continue the nightmare, so I start there and let my thoughts wander elsewhere.

I was certain that Allura was already gone from my heart. She's unattainable, that's just reality. There's no reason to feed an obsession that yields no reward. Why then, if I can't get over her, am I fooling around with Keith? Because she wanted me to?

No, that's not it.

Warmth returns suddenly. The blanket is comforting me, encouraging me to go to back to sleep— I'm up an hour before my 6 o' clock alarm, I can see. Bitter disappointment persists in my chest, though, keeping me awake. I suppose I thought I'd begun to understand Keith. I thought we were caught in similar storms, fighting the same Boss.

But he's off, perhaps doing that, away from me. Just when I think we're getting along and we might have a shot at this relationship business, too. Am I always such a fucking idiot? The lowly self-talk spirals out of control until I feel sick with heartache and anxiety. My heart burns as it falls into my stomach, threatening to slosh up the physical content therein.

I get out of bed with every intention to vomit. I'd hoped to make it to the men's room first, but I'm forced to double myself over the trash can at my desk. At the most horrifying and disgusting moment anyone could have possibly chosen to turn the doorknob, Keith slips into the room. Mortified further, I can only wretch again, this time with less discharge and a more pitiful human utterance thereafter.

"Lance, oh my god!" Keith sets things down around my dresser and the desk as he hisses into the cursed morning. Rather stupidly, he asks, "Are you okay?"

I wipe at my face with my hand, still disgusted at myself. Keith proffers a napkin from the supply of whatever he'd carried in here. I accept the material as a wipe for my hands and mouth. Keith lays a hand on my back, sliding downward to strongly support my weight, at the crook of my spine. Weakly, trembling, I lean to him for more support.

"Oh, Lance," Keith heaves, lifting me back into bed. "I've got you. I left to get breakfast, y'know. I wanted to surprise you." He gestures to two identical brown bags that smell like freshly made donuts from the 24hr Krispy Kreme on campus. "But I suppose I could have saved my money," he observes lightly.

I can't hardly respond, I'm so relieved. Reality is not like the nightmare. He is not like Allura— if there is such thing as an antithesis of Allura, in fact, Keith is it. I may have just thrown up, but I'm not actually sick, and I kinda want the breakfast he delivered. He catches me in the act of eyeing the two unmarked paper coffee cups, trying to identify what's inside.

Wordlessly, understanding, he passes one to me. I still can't find any indication of what's inside.

"I didn't know how you like your coffee, so you got hot chocolate. I hope that's okay?" Keith smiles, as if reading into my thoughts.

"Perfect for today," I manage with a watery smile, melting somewhat as I accept the cup. "For future reference, I do like anything espresso, though."

"That explains so much about your boundless energy," and my lethargic crashes.

"I wouldn't have pegged you as a morning person," I manage, propping myself onto one elbow and laying my head on Keith's lap.

He sits idly for a moment at the edge of my bed, perhaps watching me for signs of another vomiting episode. When a reasonable beat of silence passes, he declares, "You couldn't guess a lot of things about me."

I almost spill my drink as I laugh at that. I sit up to better sip from the cup. Keith presses me down again, though, ruffling my hair.

"You're sick."

"You don't know much about me either," I counter, sitting up again. "Anxiety disorder, that's all. I'm fine."

Keith, at that, gingerly allows me to rest my back against his chest and find comfort in the airspace where he'd normally talk with his hands. He folds his arms around me in a backward hug as we convene for a few minutes about our classes in the impending morning. To our astonishment, we realize we've had Bio Lab together this whole semester, though not the same lecture block. Mischievously, we discuss skipping— in favor of sex during that time— as we munch on the donuts.

"You're getting donut crumbs on me," I interrupt.

"You're welcome," he shrugs. "You could sit up, Mr. I'm-Defintiely-Not-Sick-But-I-Threw-Up-So-Let-Me-Cuddle-On-You."

"You're," I pause to laugh, "bad at sass." But I do sit up.

He takes me by surprise though, stealing a chomp of my donut. Outraged, I make an attempt at retaliation. We give way to pushing and biting, until the food is gone and it suddenly becomes painfully obvious that we're just lusting for each other. He leans in, but I take the first kiss— hoping the taste on my tongue is of confection and chocolate. Keith, however, lifts his head to observe the time.

"We have a lot of time for sex," he says coolly. "I don't think we'll have to skip Lab."

I stick my tongue out, wishing I had an excuse to skip anyway but, at the same time, glad. I don't think my grade would stay so hot if I skipped the class right before a practical. Keith fiddles on his phone and then casts a suggestive look right into the depths of my eyes. I feel like he's looking at me—as opposed to my body or something else physical. I want more of it, of him.

"I set a timer," he smirks. "Fill the time with what love you can."

"I intend to."

[Smut !]

"Oh?" His bottom lip falls into custody of a nervous bite.

I realize his ass is probably still ruined. Evilly, I consider fucking him anyway, but ultimately settle on leaving a nicely visible lovebite on the tender road of skin beneath his jaw. Keith's breathing vacillates, sucking in deep breaths and expelling them at random intervals. He discards his shirt to give me better access.

He takes advantage of the pause I take to undress, however. I can already tell, from the moment his hands hold my hips, that I'm getting fucked. He pushes me to bend and stretch over the bed. He grants me the kindness of asking if that's comfortable enough. My only response is the press of my rear to his hard want.

Keith obliges me and my wordless demand. I don't last long before my knees become weak and I'm practically screaming into my pillows. I'm doing everything I can to stay courteous to my neighbors but Keith seems to be doing everything in his power to thwart that effort. He hikes me up to all fours on the bed and poises on his knees. I have to bite the pillow as a moan rips from my chest.

I'm allowing him to fuck me senseless only because I'm fairly certain my cock in his ass would open scabs and emerge coated in blood. For all I know, though. I'm not so healed myself. Keith could suffer similarly. Would serve him right, I think, grunting with the effort of holding myself up. But he fucks me so well.

My fingers curl into the blankets. His hand, then, curls suggestively around my own hard want. Air becomes a luxury I wish I could afford. I lift my face from the bed to beseech Keith. He notices another advantage over me and teases me with it.

"Do you like this?" He massages my length with the circle of his thumb.

"Oh—" I'm beyond the capability of words. "Ke—"

"What's that?"

"Ke-cut it out," I swallow around the labored production of language. "Keith!" He continues to pleasure me.

"I should stop?" His voice drips with cool intent. He lets go of me and resumes to fuck.

A circuit of clipped anh's and nmph's escape raggedly from deep within my chest. I'm close, and it's becoming evident in my voice. Keith touches me again, a show of passion. Sowing kisses into the back of my neck and ploughing dangerously back and forth, he proceeds to plant ecstasy with the sleight of his hand. I might collapse under the growing arborescent pleasure.

And then Keith's phone alarm screeches importantly from its perch at the foot of my bed. We wince at each other. My cock weeps in his hand while his length begins to slow its assault on my body. He gingerly peels himself from me to silence the noise.

"You should cum on my back, babe, that'd be pretty hot." I'm literally just trying to save my own butt.

"Sure it would," Keith smirks, returning to lean over me with a knee on either side of my body. I lie flat to assert my proposal, though suffering as my cock throbs and demands attention.  "Nm, Lance," he moans, apparently pleased by the view I've supplied. He comes easily. "Your turn to release."

I harrumph at the unexpected manhandling. Keith dubiously pulls me to lie on my sticky and speckled back.

"Fuck you," I groan, unable to produce any fire behind my words. I think the squirming and wriggle that follows only encourages Keith. "Keith!" I exclaim as his lips take an unexpected dive. "Oh! Ke-!" but I'm already plummeting over the edge before I can even get the first word out.

Keith hums happily upon swallowing my passion.

"Good morning, amiright?" He ducks when I swat at him for that.

"Yeah," I scoff, though in good nature. "Great morning for you."

"Awh, chill out— there's no better way to start your day than getting fucked up the arse. Also you had breakfast in bed. I don't see any grounds for complaint."

"My neighbors will." We snicker at that together as we dress for the day.

A/N
I'm impressed I posted like an hour ago and I have ~30 views which prolly means I have like thirty readers that got the notification and were like OoooOoo I've been waiting for this and clicked it and I'm touched if that's the case. Hecking, thanks for reading this far 😂