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He’s not sure exactly how he got into this situation. He’s not really sure about anything anymore, with the whole surprise you’re actually part fucking Galra thing, not with the whole oh hey Allura hates you now and your teammates won’t look you in the eye thing. A part of him think he really should’ve been expecting this, somehow.
He’s in the infirmary, bandaging up his own shoulder because he’d brushed everyone off and told Shiro, very adamantly, that he would rather be alone right now, please, mostly because if he cried or some shit he didn’t want anyone, especially not Shiro, to see.
Kolivan shows up right as he’s finishing up, suit unzipped enough that he can peel his arms out and reach his shoulder easily.
“Paladin,” he says in way of greeting. His helmet is off this time.
Keith’s coming off the adrenaline that kept him fighting so long and he’s tired and everyone hates him now so he’s not in the bet mood, so he just goes “What, you want me to suck your dick again?”
There’s a pause, a long one, and then, “Not quite.”
Keith’s head jerks up, “What?”
Kolivan doesn’t even blink, “There is another tradition of ours, after the trials—if you pass,” he adds.
There’s something in his tone, the same something that was there back in that fucking dressing room.
“…What is it?” he asks, dreading the answer.
“On your feet,” is all he says. Keith does so, almost automatically, and curses himself. “Turn.”
“Okay, no,” Keith says, because if this is going where he thinks it’s going, he is not a fan, no fucking thank you.
“Our tradition—“
“I’m not a member of your Blade thing,” Keith cuts in, “I just wanted to figure out what I was. I’m not joining up or anything, I don’t need to do this ‘after initiation’ stuff.”
“Regardless, if you’re going to carry one of our blades, you must complete the process—the entire process.”
Keith huffs, “Is it really that important to you?”
And now here he is, suit unzipped all the way, hanging low on his hip, braced against the side of the infirmary bed. Maybe it’s because he’s too tired to keep arguing, maybe it’s because he already feels isolated enough that why not go ahead and go all the way—if he really is part Galra, why not make it official?
And it’s a stupid idea, he knows that, but Kolivan is stubborn as rock and unpersuadable, and Keith thinks that if he’s gonna keep bothering him about it, he might as well get it over with.
He isn’t sure what he’s expecting, but it’s not what he gets.
There are big gloved hands down the back of the suit and another in his hair, not wasting any time in maneuvering him wherever the fuck the Galra wants him to be—hands on the bed, bent over the bed, feeling way too exposed because is he really doing this? It was one thing to be on his knees for this guy, but is he really willing to do this?
He squirms a little when the suits hanging around his hips is pulled down further, is really ready to back out because actually he doesn’t know if he can do this, but then Kolivan kind of. Reaches up, hand trailing up his neck, and touches this spot right behind his ear, drags his finger along it and presses down and—
“Oh,” Keith moans, like it’s forced out of him, “oh, god, what—what the fuck,”
“You’re more Galra than you look,” Kolivan remarks behind him, and okay, okay, some weird Galra weak spot or something fuck fuck that’s good, sending shudders through his body in a way he’s never felt before.
It’s enough to distract him from the way the air feels on his bare skin, exposing him to the room. But he keeps pressing again and again, drawing embarrassing noises and keeping him occupied enough that it take him a moment or two to realize that there’s a gloved finger probing at him entrance. He flinches.
“Shh,” Kolivan holds him still, pressing into the back of his neck in a way that has his shuddering int the blanket, and then. Then he feels. Something.
“What the fuck,” he yells, voice higher than he’d ever admit to, because he’s. Because he’s wet, he’s fucking wet what the fuck is happening to him what the fuck what???
“It’s common, do not be alarmed,” the other says, in that infuriatingly calm way of his, like Keith’s being unreasonable for freaking the fuck out because he’s what, self-lubricating? What the fuck what the fuck??
He doesn’t have time to dwell on it for very long, because then something big and hard and fucking purple he knows from experience, prodding at him. And the guy doesn’t even finger him open first, prepare him at all—does he even need to? Keith thinks vaguely, he’s so fucking wet.
He barely has time to get out a weak, “W-Wait,” before Kolivan is pushing in, and pushing him further against the bed as a result, thighs digging into the sides of it.
The initial slide in is surprisingly smooth, the fucking lubrication he’s still not over that making it easy. It takes Keith a moment or two to remember the unfamiliar ridges that had scraped the back of his throat, because suddenly he can feel them inside of him, rough and unforgiving as Kolivan presses in deeper.
“Ow,” he gasps, shocked and kind of vaguely horrified, “Ow ow fuck, wait a second—ow,” he kicks out weakly with one of his legs, but the other pays him no mind, just grips the back of his neck and presses into that same spot with his big big thumb (?). It still hurts it fucking hurts, but the mind-blowing pleasure kind of blocks it out for a moment.
Before he knows it, he’s bottomed out—it feels so deep, unnaturally deep, but if he just stays very still, he can almost forget how literally alien the thing inside him is.
“You’re much softer inside than our kind usually is.” Kolivan says against somewhere above his shoulder—he’s so big, tall, bent over Keith but still able to maneuver him as he pleases, “A human trait I was not accounting for.”
Keith just whimpers weakly—does that mean he’ll stop? Pull out? Will pulling out hurt worse? God, he hopes he’ll stop—he’s always wanted to get fucked, but this…It was one thing having a purple barbed dick in his mouth, but this is just. Too Much, it’s too much, it’s overwhelming.
Kolivan doesn’t stop. He seems to catch his breath for a moment or two, and then he’s pulling back out, almost torturously slow. Keith’s breath catches in his throat as he feels the ridges grate against his walls. He can’t decide if it’s worse than the opposite direction, because there’s a pained yelp ringing in his ears—his own, he realizes when Kolivan claps a big big gloved hand over his mouth, making Keith jolt.
“Quiet, young one,” he says, “Be calm.”
Keith wants to yell at him that he can’t “be calm”, how the hell is he supposed to be calm when it feels like he might be torn open? but he can’t, because the bastard’s hand is over his mouth and the other is braced against his hip, long finger curling a good two thirds way across his stomach, holding him in place.
He thinks—hopes—for a moment that the Galra won’t continue, will deem this too unfamiliar, uncharted territory, too dangerous and potentially painful, but then he thinks that either Kolivan doesn’t fully understand what the fuck his dick could do to him or just doesn’t care, because then he’s pushing back in.
Keith cries out, muffled by the glove in his mouth, tries to make some kind of protest, but it’s lost in the alien fabric.
It hurts, is the thing. Keith had know that the first time taking a dick would be a little uncomfortable at first, he’d read shit about how you have to get used to it, but nobody said anything about self-lubrication and nobody said a goddamn thing about alien dick and how much it would fucking hurt. Would this happen to his dick? he thinks wildly. Now that he’s ‘unlocked the blade’ or whatever, will he start to change? Become more alien? Fuck, he doesn’t want to, he doesn’t want to be like this. Fuck. Fuck fuck.
The Blade leader sets a punishing pace, fucking into him just like he’d fucked into his mouth, rough and completely in control, with no room for compromise.
Fuck, he practically lifts him off his feet, pushing him further up onto the bed where he’s bent over it to get a better angle just because he can, because he’s stronger and bigger and more powerful than Keith, and Keith can’t believe it took him till now to realize just how true that is.
But fuck, it hurts, it feels like he’s being split in two—of course he’s thought, late at night when he’s tired and void of shame, about how exactly he’d like to be split in two someday, spread out and opened up nice and slow, big warm hands and Shiro smile against the curve of his neck, but it’s nothing like this; if it’s always like this he’d rather go fucking celibate, even for Shiro—like he’s being ripped the fuck apart.
And he’s so wet—and he hopes to god it’s not blood—he can feel it dripping out of him and down the backs of his thighs, warm and foreign.
He’s so wet, and maybe that’s what does it, eventually coating the ridges and maybe making it a little less harsh, letting Kolivan in deeper and deeper and eventually brushing against that little bundle of nerves deep inside him. He jolts hard, making some kind of noise behind Kolivan’s hand—more of the slick-whatever-the-fuck slides down his legs and fuck. It still hurts but it also feels good—better, when Kolivan notices his movement and thrusts into that spot again, and then again and again like it’s easy—and maybe it is, maybe Galra dick is specially made to fuck you open and then find your prostate, Keith doesn’t know. He doesn’t think he knows anything anymore.
Kolivan reaches down to run an appreciative hand up and down one of Keith’s thighs, getting his glove unashamedly wet; he makes some kind of pleased purring sound, like Keith’s finally done something right, and Keith flushes in humiliation.
He doesn’t think it can possibly get any worse, until
“Keith?” Shiro. It’s Shiro, on the other side of the door. Keith’s heart races. “Keith, are you okay?”
Kolivan’s hand is gone, giving him the freedom to respond. He almost calls out, gives up right there because it hurts and he doesn’t want to do this anymore, no matter how many “traditions” it breaks, but the thought, the fear of Shiro seeing him like this, fucked open and hurting underneath their new ally, wins out.
“I’m fine,” he responds weakly.
“Are you sure?” Shiro asks, “Do you want any help with anything?”
“N-No,” he calls, stuttering as Kolivan thrusts in again, “I’m fine, really.”
“Is Kolivan still in there?” Shiro asks, “Allura’s asking for him, she wants to go over the locations of a few of Zarkon’s bases.”
Keith feels Kolivan laugh, actually fucking chuckle, against his neck, and would flip him off if he could.
“No,” he lies instead, voice wavering, “I don’t know where he went, but he left a while ago.”
“Ah, okay.” and then, “Are you sure you don’t need help? I can ask Hunk to if you don’t wanna talk to me right now.”
“No,” Keith nearly yells, because that would be worse somehow, so so much worse, “No, I’m fine, I promise, I just. J-Just need some time alone.”
“Alright,” Shiro sounds like he’s hesitating, but eventually just sighs and says, “Call me if you need anything.”
“Will do,” is all Keith can manage to say, adrenaline wearing him out. As soon as his footsteps fade away, he sputters a “Fuck you,” even thought he’s pretty sure the Galra doesn’t know what that means.
Either way, it’s over soon after. Kolivan thrusts a few more times, digs his fingers in Keith’s hair and scratched along that spot behind his ear and then Keith is spasming too, coming despite himself, despite the pain, letting out breathy, desperate sound he can’t even bring himself to be ashamed of.
For a long moment, there’s only the sound of panting, Kolivan’s breath on the back of his neck where he’ slumped forward, boneless.
Keith shifts a little, a sign for the Galra to get up, but Kolivan makes a warning noise, splaying a hand across his back to keep him down.
“Wait a moment,” he mumbles.
Keith whines, “It hurts,”
“It will hurt more if you do not give it time.”
Time to what? he wants to ask, but then he feels, can actually physically feel Kolivan’s dick get softer, barbs fucking retracting. What the fuck.
When he pulls out, he brings a lot out with him. Slick and come drip down his legs in a way that makes him feel disgusting, pooling on the floor.
“Decent job,” Kolivan says, just like before, despite sounding a little breathless himself. Keith would be offended if he had it in him to move at all. He feels Kolivan zip himself back up, and then zip the back of Keith’s suit up, not even bothering to clean him up at all. “You can now carry the blade with pride.”
Pride is the last thing Keith feels right now, but he doesn’t say anything, just nods vaguely.
“I must go,” Kolivan says after a moment, “I’ve heard I have plans to discuss. It was an honor watching your trials.”
And then he’s fucking gone, the sound of the infirmary door opening and shutting, and Keith is left alone with his shame and his mess.
Time passes.
He really should take a shower. Figure out what the fuck that all did to him, if he can even walk. At least it’s over now, he thinks vaguely. Still fucking hurts.
He wonders, absently, what would’ve happened if he’d called Shiro in—if he would’ve attacked the Galra, helped him, or if he would’ve averted his eyes and stammered an apology and left. He doesn’t know which one would be worse, and decides that right now, he doesn’t really care.
Honestly, he’s just exhausted. Who knew taking Galra dick up your ass would leave you with a huge headache and the urge to sleep for ten hours?
He has no idea how, but he somehow manages to get up and drag himself to his room without running into anyone, thank god. He doesn’t manage to take a shower though, or even get out of that fucking suit, barely has it in him to walk to the bed before falling forwards and just kinda collapsing.
Fuck, he thinks. Jesus Fucking Christ.