Shiro wasn't really awake when Lance nuzzled the back of his neck, the warm rush of his breath enough to pull Shiro from his light doze. He rumbled something that lacked syllables, inquisitive enough that Lance's mouth left his skin and Shiro whined at the sudden absence of familiar(more) warmth.
"Sorry," Lance's voice a low murmur, still sleep-heavy, weighted like Shiro's limbs tangled in the sheets. "Did I wake you?"
"Mmm," Shiro's voice was hoarse, still raw. "What're you doin'?"
"Smelling you." Lance's fingers made contact with Shiro's bare shoulder, fingertips brushing down over a faint scar that hooked down over his shoulder blade. Shiro snorted, and Lance leaned in close again, so that his breath rushed warm over the shell of Shiro's ear. "Tasting you."
"Not food," Shiro said, and his words rolled slightly into a yip as Lance bit his shoulder gently, teeth needle-sharp. "Don't bite!"
Lance licked over the brief impression of his teeth on Shiro's skin. "Make me stop," Lance teased, and Shiro shifted, meaning to pull his arm free and correct Lance. Lance was faster though, and more awake - and, as Shiro remembered, face now shoved into the pillow - equally as strong.
"Mmf," Shiro managed, turning his face out of suffocation zone. "Not fair."
Both of Lance's hands dug into Shiro's shoulder blades, palms pressing into the muscle as he straddled Shiro's lower back. The pressure was good, although Lance clearly wasn't interested in giving a massage. He leaned close, and nestled his nose against the protrusion of Shiro's spine, almost purring to himself.
Then, he lifted his head and gently bit the nape of Shiro's neck.
Shiro jerked, and let out a soft moan. "Lance," he said, breathless, and imagined he could feel the shape of Lance's smile pressed into his skin.(less)