Izzy curses and Lucius would smirk, if he had the capacity. As is, being slightly tipsy and buried balls deep in Israel Hands, Lucius would be lucky to remember his own name. The leg around his hip is welcome and he spares a hand to brace it. It puts him off balance though and, when he starts to tip, he has to lean forward to plant a hand on the mattress. Izzy's nearly bent in half about it, would be if Lucius weren't a tall mountain of a man, and the new angle makes it so much easier to fuck into him.

It also sets Izzy's prick bobbing between them with each thrust. It's not long before Lucius abandons holding his leg and uses that free hand to wrap around it.

That thought startles another semblance of a laugh out of him, which triggers another gut-wrenched groan. He's got his hand on Izzy's Jizzy. He would never declare that aloud, but it will amuse him until the day he dies.

It's doubly amusing because Izzy has a surprisingly nice cock. Thick, well shaped, nice curve to it. He hadn't really ogled much (not as much as he'd like) but just feeling it? God he'd love to draw it, just for his own imaginary reference. Now, tragically, is not the time to request that. Now is the time to hope his hand still has enough lube on it to ease the stroking he's doing.