Keith loses himself in the blistering heat whipping into his hair, in the wind's howl and rumbling of the engine in the background. It's not his father's hover-bike, but he can navigate this without any trouble, spiraling around for the harsher, jerking turns and tricks within the reddish-brown canyons.

Flecks of dust and sand blink out of Keith's eyelashes. He pats off his darker and tighter pair of jeans hugging around his narrow hips and the curve of his ass, and shakes off his open, crop-top jacket. It's a bright red leather with trimmings of white and black, resembling his older jacket. Keith doesn't feel like wearing an undershirt in the rising temperatures, enjoying the breeze on his upper body and skin.

He notices the small audience gathering by their Garrison-owned vehicles — one of persons being James Griffin. Keith squints his eyes inquisitively as James's stormy grey-blue eyes roam over him shamelessly, his tongue peeking between his lips. It drags quickly over his chapped mouth.

Ever since their mission together, along with the other MFE pilots, Keith doubts they share any more needless hostility like years ago. They've proved themselves to be experienced and disciplined.

"Hey," Kinkade greets him, appearing around the hover-bike and walking in front of Keith. He folds his arms to his uniformed chest, observing as Keith peers down on him thoughtfully. Gold, like sunlight hitting the peak of ravine during midmorning — Kinkade's eyes are deeply mesmerizing.

"Yeah, hey," Keith repeats back. He finds himself breathless for a spell, climbing off the hover-bike.

On the way down, Rizavi's ungloved hands press on the bare, sun-pinkened stripe of Keith's lower back, attempting to steady him from behind. She doesn't even seem to mind how sweaty his flesh is.

"Very nice…" she says, clucking her tongue and glancing over Keith's front in approval.

There's a T-shape of coarse, black chest-hair over most of Keith's pecs and down his sternum, lightening over his abdomen, and then thickening and darkening again past his bellybutton right above Keith's jeans. He's not as scarred up as possibly Shiro is, besides Keith's cheek, but definitely more than anybody here.

Rizavi offers a friendly, secretive grin when Leifsdottir joins them, presenting out a towel. Keith watches her usually monotonous expression relax. The corner of Leifsdottir's mouth uplifts.

She scurries away when Keith accepts the towel, somewhat ducking behind Kinkade.

"You free, soldier?" Rizavi asks, perking up when Keith mops off his sweaty, burned face and clears his throat, meeting her eyes. Eyes like molten, fresh honey, like Keith's favorite on his toast plate. It's a calming and immediate association for him, when he can eat and quietly reflect on his upcoming day.

"Sure," he croaks out, looking around at the other fighter-pilots. "You running drills?"

James snorts out loud, grimacing when Leifsdottir elbows him promptly. "Actually… we have something better in mind…" Rizavi informs him cheerfully, grasping around Keith's wrist and tugging.

One of the buildings on the Garrison base has storage closets big enough to fit ten or more people for sheltering overnight. Keith walks the enclosure from the far left wall, mentally counting the array of mats left out on the ground. Kinkade and James crank the steel-titanium door shut behind everyone.

He wishes he had some water after his ride, and has to make due to Rizavi's saliva pushing into his mouth when she kisses him, smiling, opening Keith's mouth against hers, sliding her palms greedily over the dips of his hip-bones. Someone's hand not belonging to her undoes Keith's zipper and his jean-button expertly.

"God, you're so hot," Rizavi mutters, handing her glasses to James.

Keith feels Leifsdottir humming attentively against his ear, nuzzling her cheek against Keith's burn-scar. All he can see at this point is the cornsilk strands of her pale blonde hair. She exposes Keith's flaccid cock out of his clothes, groping around the base and stroking him faster.

"Fuck…" James groans from his other side, digging a fingertip against Keith's dry, clenching rim. "How tight are you, Keith? You not getting any these days or something?"

Rizavi sucks on her own fingers until they're visibly shiny and drooled-on, nudging away James's hand. Keith tenses against the intrusion, but says nothing to her cramming her thumb inside him. "I bet he feels like warm velvet inside…" she whispers, petting Keith's chest, "mmm, can't wait… …"

Leifsdottir holds out the tip of Keith's dick poking from the foreskin, as Kinkade's mouth smears around the exposed, moistened glans. "Sorry," he murmurs out, when a fogged-out Keith snaps his hips.

"Don't be sorry, Ryan. He's just a little sensitive," James teases.

"His breathing is off."

The mildly concerned observation from Leifsdottir makes everyone go still, as Keith pants and shakes his head while he's cradled securely in their arms. A high, reddening color goes up his temples. James's lighthearted, lusty smile fades. "Keith, man—you doing okay?" he asks, patting on top of Keith's right shoulder and getting his attention. "You hear me? You need a minute?"


Kinkade doesn't hesitate and grabs one of the nearby water-bottles from a crate, letting Keith crack it open himself and guzzling half of it down in several gulps, using the other half to pour over himself. Everyone backs up as he does this, waiting in anticipation for Keith to either bolt or pass out.

He does neither.

"Good," James murmurs, eyeing a firm and accepting nod from Keith. Those stormy blue-gray eyes darken, and James's ungloved hand grasps over Keith's buttock, pinching down softly and possessively. "Yeah, good, that's it," he says once more, tenderly brushing a wet strand of hair out of Keith's eye. "Need you to stay focused 'cause, man, we're gonna fuck you until all you can do is scream for more …"

The bold, filthy proclamation stiffens Keith's cock between them. He can smell old and stale mildew in the air and the worn quality of the mat against Keith's back when a naked Leifsdottir bounces on top of Keith's mouth and nose, exhaling noisily, smothering him and grinding her vaginal lips down.

"Holy shit, I love watching her fuck," Rizavi pants, eyeing her female companion with a grin while crouching over Keith's torso, moaning occasionally as James's fingers rock eagerly into her hole, stretching and working her ass open for him. She's already an inch or two deep with Keith's cockhead seated in her fluttering, sopping entrance, circling her hips. "Ina, hun, I love your pussy."

"Thanks," Leifsdottir replies dully, earning her uproarious laughter from James and Rizavi.

Kinkade holds her upright, cuddling and pressing an affectionate kiss to Leifsdottir's jaw. "You any good at being a cocksucker, Keith?" James calls out, sinking his dick into Rizavi's little ass, hiking one of his hands eagerly under her blouse and groping. As if taking the cue with Leifsdottir moving away, Keith inclines back his head, lips parting for Kinkade's cock smoothly rutting into his mouth. He tastes good, like clean, warm flesh and something else musky on the dollops of pre-cum landing on Keith's tongue.

Rizavi drags herself up and down Keith's shaft, groaning out when James slams harder into her ass, and Keith thinks he can feel him through the muscles and membrane while fucking her erratically.

"Wanna… uunh!… do his pussy next time?" Rizavi sounds more like she's whining than posing the remark, running her spit-sticky fingertips over Keith's perineum and his hole, teasing it in a crooked pattern.

James bites down on her light brown neck, grinning fiendishly.

"Fuck, oh fuck, YES," he empathizes each word in a brutal, jolting thrust, shooting right into Rizavi's ass and fucking her through her own sudden, intense orgasm, tightening on Keith.

Instead of letting him off the hook, Rizavi slips Keith's twitching, overstimulated cock out of her and helps Leifsdottir straddle deeply over him, Rizavi's hand pushing apart her folds and exposing the deep, wet pink.

"Make sure to give her everything you got, soldier," she breathes out, winking.

Keith doesn't know how much longer it takes before he cums violently, Kinkade's semen drying and splattering over the surface of his red-raw lips and his chin and Keith's hairline. He shoves himself as far as possible into Leifsdottir's channel, gripping onto her too-pale hips and releasing the hot, thick come sitting in his balls, feeling each and every pulse echoing as she whimpers and quakes.

"God, let her pussy breathe, will you?" Rizavi says jokingly, leaning into the other woman's back and stroking over Leifsdottir's mound, touching briefly over Keith's cock still buried inside her.

Kinkade grunts in acknowledgement.

"I think that's enough for now," he says lowly, helping a breathless and fucked-out Keith upright while the girls collapses onto the adjacent, thin mat, snuggling and talking in mumbles. Leifsdottir nudges half of her face into Rizavi's tummy, as James returns Rizavi's glasses and hunches down with them.

There's no telling where they can all go from here.

But Keith supposes he might as well get used to being unprepared for it.



Voltron isn't mine. You know,,,, I never think to myself "I'm gonna write an orgy" and then do that. It just,,,,,,,,, happens. But apparently I do it decently lmaooooo so here we go! It's VLD Poly Week and I've smacked this down for Day 2: "Rebellion" and this also covers my "Dirty Talk" card space for my NSFW Genre bingo card! Joining the Voltron Bingo on Tumblr really has gotten me writing some kooky shit. Love it. HOPE YOU ALL ENJOYED THE POLY/ORGY. Comments/thoughts welcome!