gothblossom
lotor on the last night of vigilance shooting up some quintessence to forget that it’s still vigilance and to try and make it but allura knocks on the door asking if hes okay:
aicosu
Anonymous asked:
“Just let her know that while I am here, I plan not to leave the west wings at all. If I can help it. Perhaps I should move supplies in here to avoid contact by way of mealtime or calls…“ He trails, unclasping his bracers. “Yes, let her know everywhere else is game, as it were.”
“I will.”
Lotor tossed his waistcoat and armor to the ground, looking about the quarters with a bit of bitter nostalgia. It was nice to be back after everything, but being shut up one room with… his specified company also present, didn’t sound appealing.
He clasped his fists, stretching his arms, and cracking his neck. The trip had been absolutely excruciating. He closed his eyes.
And then opened them, sensing the weight behind him and turning to see Keith still there, and much closer than before.
He blinked.
“You are free to be dismissed Keith, I don’t expect–”
“Emperor Lotor, can I say something?”
Lotor stiffens, his expression falling into a firm look. The title hits something automatic in him, a reliable instinct that helps when his surprise still lingers at hearing the young Blade address him that way. Patience. The young need room to grow, as it were.
“Speak your mind.” Lotor says, eyes on Keith’s hand, where a scar peeks out from the shadows.
“I wanted to say–” The boy began. “I wanted to ask–” He struggled. “I, this is a request, is that…?”
Lotor waited.
“Okay.” The blade breathed, Mamora shoulder pads wrinkling the suit underneath. “I, I just wanted to say thank you. For… telling me things. Teaching me things. And–and I know that the Galra aren’t, I’m not, supposed to say thank you. But we do on earth and I think that it’s important to say it because I’m… both.”
He lifts his head, taking in the words like he might a hot drink. It warms him from the inside out.
He keeps waiting.
“But I also wanted to say thanks for doing what you’re doing. It would be easy not to marry Allura, and make peace.”
It would not be easy to not marry Allura, in fact. Lotor grins, but luckily the gesture only seems to relax Keith.
“But I can tell that you also want to be both, want everyone to be both, and I respect that. I understand that.”
He sighed. Lotor shifted his head.
“And your request?”
“What?”
“You said this was a request.” He reminded.
Keith stares at the ground. “Yeah, right, that, yeah–”
“Anything you need, Keith, if it’s within my power,”
“I just wanted to say–ask, that if we could, be, or, if I could call you–consider you,” The measured slowness with which he corrects himself leaves Lotor on an edge he doesn’t particularly appreciate, but he holds out for the boy.
It’s worth it.
“If we could be Prat Vel,”
Brothers.
By fury.
“Brothers.” Lotor says it out loud. He has too. The word is about as foreign to himself as it must be to Keith.
“Friends.” Keith clarified.
He shook his head.
“It means blood brothers.”
“Oh, I didn’t, it was–” Keith’s face is red now. “I didn’t mean it as,”
“Yes.”
The agreement surprises them both. Maybe Lotor less so. Perhaps it’s something manipulative. It’s been… thousands, of decaphoebs since he’d ever heard the words, let alone considered them. And it’s useful. A given ally, a reliable pact, especially with a member of Voltron and a representative of a foreign planet.
Or maybe he’s soft. The weak-sentimental mush the Galra had always accused him of. Especially now, with gold on his hands from his own wedding, by fury, a domesticated beast umbrella-ed under the pathetic happiness this entire affair had introduced into his life.
He’d take what they’d give him until it inevitably ran out, as it always did.
So he bowed, low enough that his height met with the small human’s.
“You honor me, Keith. I accept.”
“T-thanks, that’s, yeah, your welcome,” The blade hurries, putting out an arm to shake, a gesture of trade procedures the earthlings seemed to favor over bowing.
Lotor takes the hand as he straightens, feeling the cut on the boy’s palm with a swell of gratitude in his chest rather than wariness.
And then Keith hugs him.
It’s faster than anything Lotor can anticipate, and it’s gone before he can return or dwell on it. A rush of warmth and then coldness.
He stares at the boy, calculating when the last time he’d ever had an embrace. Never, maybe.
Keith finishes shaking his hand with a hefty gesture.
“Great, I’ll go talk to Allura like you asked. Enjoy your vacation.”
Lotor doesn’t know the word, but nods.
“Later.”
Indeed.
aicosu
Summary: After Lotor becomes Emperor once winning Kral Zera, Allura and the paladins discuss the best way to unionize the alliance. Allura feels a gesture of royal matrimony makes the most sense. For political reasons only, of course.
aicosu
jazzasarus asked:
Allura smelled like electricity.
His knees ached, but not because he was on the floor, bent and loomed like a dishonored Knight.
They ached because his cock ached.
“Why that’s a fine dress, is that something I’ve seen before?”
“Ha-Ha-HA—What?”
Her skirts fluttered with the heaviness of her laugh. His fingers caught the hems. He rolled the silk between his claws and counted the ticks for each of his exhaled inhales.
This was…
Excruciating.
His heat had already been unbearable but sweat seemed to coat him in waves now. And perspiration only added to that miserably tempting, familiar smell of flesh. His skin.
Bare. His mind whispered. Skin. Touch. Kiss. Fuck. A synesthesia of words to describe the scent that conjured up more visions. Ideas. Wants. Desires.
His hand fisted, he sunk a tooth into his cheek. It pierced him to his core, made him cringe until sounds went distant and his head went dizzy. Palen Bol. Apre. Tok. Please. He laid his forehead on her thigh and tried not to think about how close he was to her cun–
Fury, no. Stop. Not like that.
She moved again, he felt it in the shiver of her calf. In the slight pulse of skin there, right there, at her ankle, where a slip of her skin flashed between her dainty shoes and the bottom of her dress. A taunt. A small wave of hello from the wanton thoughts of his mind about his own wife.
Wife.
He looked up at her, had to, to remind himself exactly what that meant. A wife, his wife. She looked back at him, for a second, and his teeth ached. She was so small even like this, above him. He could lift her with one arm and lay her on the conference table.
His stomach flexed against his erection.
It’s yours, something Galra in him said. It’s Dethok An and you’re wasting it when you thought you would never have one. How more ungrateful could you be to the stars themselves? Aligned as they are like the small freckles up her calf.
Oh, he’d lifted her skirt.
He huffed out a breath he wasn’t aware he was holding. Had he stopped counting his heart beats?
Space, time, damn, her skin was soft, pliant, shadows divots appearing under the claws on her knee. Take your hand off her knee. He begged himself. Or you’ll rut against her like the animal you aren’t. Vigilance. Be the Altean.
He almost groaned against the chide but closed his eyes instead, gripping her leg to concentrate on pushing away the insufferable heat at his neck and ears, rather than to feel it.
“Right—! Lotor, are—”
His eyes opened. His hand swiftly left her leg. Called out, branded.
“Hmmm?! What was that! I didn’t hear you, Princess?!”
He heaved a breath he kept silent, blinking fast at her dress as the skirts fell back to the floor, curtaining off something he’d never been meant to see n the first place. Fury. Pathetic.
All this time, all that diligence, and he’s broken by a show of an ankle. Damn this fucking evolutionary waste. Losing out to a swollen zol. Useless.
“L-Lotor-are-would—” She trailed, “he should probably hear of it!!” She hurried. “About—Kolivan.”
Kolivan?
People. Other people. Other things. Emperor. The Empire– the world came back to him word by word, like waking from a dream. He honestly hadn’t heard anything said at all.
Wonderful.
He grit his teeth into a trained smiled and tasted electricity.
garbage-dono
weebleswrites
spacebetweenreylo
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lotors-saltwife
ruinedchildhood
