.

.

Keith has seen hands emerging from the nothingness, spindly-thin and clawing him.

Beastly, luminescent-white fangs snapping. Apparitions with vaporized, glitching half-torsos beckoning him. Dark red fluid splashing up to his knees

He has seen what appeared to be a open, golden wheat field in the distance and a person arching backwards, exploding and dissolving into swirling, blackened smoke. Seen human-like faces etched in marble and granite, screaming with their mouths wide open, and then closing them on their own and glaring with lifeless, unblinking eyes at Keith. Seen a pile of bones linking together like a spinal cord and slither away against dark, ashy soil and undergrowth, wriggling freely.

Nobody would ever wish for this.

He dreams so often, and frightfully — of crawling across a long, endless stretch of blacktop, his naked, pale back-muscles straining to pull himself along. The rainwater and how it layers the ground beneath him. Keith's fingers sink down to the maw of wet, warm darkness, his head bowing.

Escape.

It never comes to him, as the creatures hunting him descend upon the pavement, enveloping Keith in a cloth of stygian and heat and frenzy. They meld together, forming like small, plump vines raking over Keith's lips and his belly. They wrap around his shoulders and arms and wrists without a second's notice, yanking them behind Keith and sending him crashing face-first into the glistening, semi-shallow water. It goes up his nostrils, bubbling out frantically when he screams in alarm.

Gasping for air, Keith turns his cheek onto the ground, blinking out droplets and coughing and shivering when the shadow-creatures hum and contract their vines, making his arms and wrists sore, twisting over his middle to hold him still and lifting him mid-air. The vines end up around his cock, firmly grasping on and applying pressure.

He struggles for as long as possible, thrusting to get away, feeling the shadow-vines curling to his neck and throttling the air out of his lungs. The more they squeeze down, the more Keith feels lightheaded and his ears pounding with blood. A shadowy, massive tendril of vine brushes against the underside of Keith's reddened, sensitive cockhead. It rubs itself along his shaft, along with the other skin-warm vines, twisting back up towards Keith's glans and enveloping him, nearly suckling over him.

More vines prod Keith's opened, gurgling mouth when he coughs and gasps, filling him, tasting like dead and rotted meat. He floating, lost to helplessness and sensation.

His eyes film over, pallid and veined in a transparent, heady silver.

Waking up happens in a slow, slow trance, with Keith's own cock sore and stiffened between his legs. He's inside the castleship, by himself in his bunk and surrounded by a low glow of Altean blue, his sheets wrinkled down to his bare feet. The adrenaline bundles up in Keith's sternum, restless and heavy. He continues lying on his back, fucking into his own lowered, perspiring hand. Keith's drowsy and thrilled and ashamed, biting his lips when come dribbles hot and glistening onto his stomach.

He can't escape.

Not ever.

.

.


Voltron isn't mine. This is the very last Monstertron Gift Exchange Treat but also my very first bingo space fill for Voltron Bingo happening on Tumblr! How exciting! Well this treat is for keithkogsnfan who asked for "NSFW, Bottom Keith" which was super general and since I'm not the gifter and just a treat-maker, I went for a more nightmare monsters take because it seemed interesting. This also covers the "Wet Dreams" space for my NSFW Genre bingo card! Anyways thanks for the read and any comments/thoughts are deeply appreciated! I'm already getting into the Halloween spirit and I gotta prep for October stories!