Lucius is discovering that making out with Israel Hands is something of an ordeal--this isn't so much pleasantly falling into one another, which is Lucius's general preference, as it is combat with fewer moving parts. One steps forward and the other is forced to retreat only to flip the arrangement with every movement. It's fascinating and his drunken mind falls into the pattern of it with more gusto than he should probably employ.

Izzy takes his lip between teeth and sinks forward, Lucius presses him back and runs a tongue along his own. Izzy's fingers curl in his hair and tug him this way, Lucius's hand at his jaw pushes him that. It's a game, framed around teeth and tongue and open mouthed kisses, and Lucius, once he gets the rythym of it, thinks he could get quite good at it.

Unfortunately, the enthusiasm with which he's engaged means that he's not quite remembered to breathe.

He has to break their kiss to gasp down a deep breath, heart racing like he's been running. He can practically taste the salt on Izzy's skin. Izzy smells of leather, of alcohol, and--

"Are you wearing cologne?"