.

.

According to the detailed, confidential files Keith glimpses through, nobody has ever seen quite a specimen like this before.

A creature of both land and aquatic nature — with big, burly muscles and stature covered with patches of deep purple fur, towering over eight feet tall.

Humanoid, with a bony facial structure, and tufts of furred, loosened skin for ears. Markings with scarlet and three ridges atop its skull, beginning on its forehead/brow. A long, hairy knot of pale purple fur dangling from the back of its head. No visible genitalia.

Keith paces the lab, ignored by the organizers and scientists, jotting down notes of its appearance as the creature lazily floats within a strong glass-tank of water, breathing normally. Its gigantic, pale-yellow eyes peek open, landing on Keith who jerks to attention and stares back in fascination.

Kolivan is what they're labeling it, after the director's name. For his successful, astonishing discovery, taking the credit where it was not due. But power is power.

Being orphaned at a young age steered Keith into a life of military teachings. Patience. Focus. He gladly took any housing and jobs available — even this low-pay internship out in the middle of Shithole, Nowhere. It's a free, warm meal every night and a roof over his head.

Something bothers him though, and it's all of the mannerisms and intelligence the creature has. Like it — he — has grown weary, fully aware of the experiments. Keith wouldn't be so gentle about naming the scientists' motivations when they jab Kolivan with needles and rods and machinery, taking his blood samples unwillingly. Torturing him whenever was necessary, or just to know what would happen.

Keith folds his arms together, resting his clipboard against the front of his lab-coat and watching as the other interns group around, chattering quietly to themselves, eying the tank.

"Turn the dial to 11."

For once, he hesitates. Keith glances to Kolivan observing him silently through the water-filled tank, as if interested by the end-result, and then furrows his brows. "But won't that…?"

The director looks up sharply, eyes blazing in anger.

"Are you REFUSING to take an order?"

Keith doesn't answer, only lowering his eyes and getting bumped aside harshly as another intern gleefully reaches for the control-pad, turning it. The water heats and bubbles, giving a helpless Kolivan a round of electro-shocks, as he roars monstrously and flails and slams into the tank's sidings, his webbed, massive claws attempting to pierce repeatedly through transparent glass.

A cold, quiver of a feeling pass over Keith. The director huffs.

"Turn in your badge by the end of your shift."

.

.

Maybe he should have just followed orders.

Maybe… or maybe Keith should have packed his bags and left for the highway alone, with his gym bag slung to his shoulder and his father's jacket billowing around him. But here Keith is, running away from the howling, red alarms and white spotlights and the facility's gun-wielding troopers, calling out to Kolivan only several feet behind him, also running.

They dive into the wilderness, hitting into fallen branches and debris and muddy, sunken puddles. Keith stumbles in the darkness slit into pieces by moonlight and the bobbing of flashlights. He's caught securely by one of Kolivan's arms, feeling those huge muscles tense against Keith's waist.

Running goes on for hours and hours, until there's no more alarms.

Keith's mouth tastes like dirt and hot, sore flesh. Sunlight glistens over the treetops, and he notices a cabin. No tire-tracks. No signs of living except for the old, dust-saturated furniture and animal droppings.

He locates unopened water bottles and chugs two of them, helping ease his dizziness.

Keith leaves out the rest for Kolivan who hunches through a wood-beam doorway due to his height, examining the cabin in a solemn, wary bemusement. He could have left Keith at any point in time during their escape, or decided to take revenge him… whoever Kolivan was, he wasn't trying to harm anyone.

"Not sure if this is the safest place right now, but it's all we got…" Keith announces, meeting their eyes and pulling off his muddied, ruined tee and his father's jacket. "You mind if I…?" He doesn't finish the sentence, letting his voice trail off, getting the feeling that the creature already knows what he's saying or at least can read Keith in a nonverbal way.

There's bleeding, jagged scratches on Keith's hands and his face. He catches Kolivan staring dully at his sinewy, naked body, likely over his surgery scars on Keith's pectorals and down to the dark thatch of hair between Keith's legs. Just like Kolivan, there's no visible genitalia — not at first glance. Keith debated for a long time about additional surgery, but couldn't afford it.

But he isn't ashamed for not having a penis. That's not what makes him a man.

Keith searches through his gym bag for a change of clothes, and then glances around doubtfully at Kolivan backing him onto the end of the cot, kneeling down. The dulled expression softens.

Something about it unfurls a coil of suppressed, pain-driven rage in Keith's chest. He glares.

"Are you gonna pity me too… like everybody else…?"

Kolivan blinks slowly, and then to Keith's perplexity, he makes a deliberate, jerking head-shake.

The purple-furred creature moves in, nuzzling their lips and chins. Keith doesn't know what to do or say, and stills himself breathlessly in place. His bare, muscular legs widen open to accommodate Kolivan's size, and that's when he goes on a pure, primal instinct, reclining back on his elbows when Kolivan shuts his pale-yellow eyes and buries his face between Keith's thighs.

It's weird to admit there's fur rubbing ticklishly, continuously against that sensitive area. Keith bites down on his lower lip, swallowing down a groan. The sensation of warm, damp breaths hitting his entrance, and the light grazing of fangs — it's a lot at once.

Kolivan lets out a guttural, low noise, pressing a tongue-like appendage that laps around Keith's wet, hairy folds, teasing and licking, and finally prodding deep inside him.

Patience.

He thrashes his arms, pushing them together and arching his back when Kolivan grips onto his hips with his clawed fingers, holding him down. Keith flattens his lower arms against his opened, gasping mouth, against the bridge of his nose, sweating and flushing and moaning weakly.

Focus.

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.


Voltron isn't mine. ALRIGHTY WE ARE ON THE SECOND MONSTERTRON GIFT EXCHANGE TREAT! This time it is for bouquetofwhoopsiedaisies on Tumblr who wanted NSFW and a kind of Shape of Water AU or similar to it for Keith/Kolivan. I thought I did pretty okay with it? Yall can let me know! Thoughts/comments are so so encouraged!