Lucius is not sure what's happening but, really, consent can't be made clearer than when he's being garotted by his own shirt and hauled back down. He goes cheerfully--or rather urgently--meeting Izzy's mouth as he arches up as he hauls Lucius down. Their mouths clash, the angle is still odd, and Lucius rectifies it by shifting so he's not just alongside Izzy but straddling his thighs.
Now he can hold himself upright, now his hands don't have to be planted on the boring couch. He immediately draws both over Izzy's chest and to his shoulders. One finds his hair, then, wanders until it's buried, and the other ends up bracing his jaw. Drunken Lucius thinks it's a great idea to pull Izzy into alignment, a tug this way on his hair, and press that way with his beard, and suddenly kissing is both easier and filthier.
He licks his way into Izzy's mouth like the man had demanded it. He had, hadn't he? Growled and threatened him not to back off--oh, and that growl? What a lovely threat, best thing rasped at him all day, no notes.
Here they are talking about mending a very fragile friendship in it's infancy only to pitch head first into actions that will undoubtedly make it messy and complicated. It is stupid. It is reckless. But oh how it makes him feel alive.
Lucius yields to the request immediately and Izzy is so glad, pulling him close and letting himself be manipulated into a more comfortable position, ripe for the picking. And he wants to be picked. Just once, where someone would choose him.
Izzy kisses how he fights, aggressive and unyielding. He fucks the same way, too, if only because he has never been allowed another option. Maybe here.
He softens the kiss just a hair, taking Lucius' bottom lip between his teeth and running his tongue over as if tasting him for the first time. He wants more. And so he sinks into it again, one hand steady in the man's shirt front, the other finding it's way into soft brown hair where it curls with claim.
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--
Spice, musk, orange, and lavender. He is. but now is such a bullshit time to call him on it. Kiss stung, with a noise of complaint as their connection breaks, and looking up at Lucius with a mix of feral hunger, drunken want, and disbelief. Are you kidding?
"And if I were?"
Why are they talking about this, why have they stopped kissing. Fuck, he hopes Lucius hasn't come to his senses already. He hopes he doesn't either.
Lucius doesn't even bother to hide his delight, grinning as he dives back in to claim Izzy's mouth again. He's still breathless, head swimming a bit, but that doesn't matter. Not only had their silly little prank worked but Izzy was wearing one of the packets. He could figure out which one later.
For right now, Lucius's eagerness is back in force. He has not considered the consequences of this series of actions, and he's not likely to. No, all he's considering at the moment is how to get his hands up under Izzy's leather vest and billowing shirt.
Izzy who relaxes with the platitude and welcomes Lucius back to his lips with a soft noise of pleasure.
Buttoned up as tightly as he is, the only way under the vest is to open in. The fastenings are tight but few, garment well tailored and molded to his body through years of wear.
One of his hands goes right back into Lucius' hair. The other, gloved, finds his hip and squeezes before roaming up his side. Izzy should feel guilty about this, he is sure, but he just doesn't give a single fuck, and the dizzy slide of warm flesh under his hand is all consuming. Naturally, he reaches the same conclusion as his partner. There are too many clothes in the way. It needs to be rectified immediately.
"Take this off," he murmurs through the kiss, tugging at Lucius' shirt.
Lucius's clothes are absolutely not molded to his body and, thus, very easy to shuck. He's working the tight fastenings down the front of Izzy's vest when Izzy demands he lose the shirt. Fair. It will only take a moment, but it does require he pull away and sit up. His weight shifts to rest on Izzy's thighs and, somehow, his drunken balance does not betray him. Izzy's gloved hand against his side probably has something to do with that and, were he not wholly focused on stripping, he would appreciate it.
Lucius shrugs off his bolero and casts it aside, free to fall wherever in a heap on the floor. Then, without pause, pops the top button on his Tommy Bahama shirt, reaches behind his head, and hauls the whole thing off in one long pull. It is cast aside just like his bolero, thrown somewhere behind him without regret.
He's flushed, already, from drink and kissing, he's still wearing a ghost of his previous smile, and now he's shirtless. This has progressed nicely. He takes advantage of his temporary withdrawal and devotes both hands to Izzy's vest. His fingers are nimble, even with clothing that is entirely unfamiliar, and he has the thing loose with only a few seconds of attentive effort.
"Your turn."
Edited (I want dialogue, don't judge me.) 2022-08-05 17:49 (UTC)
Izzy laughs, a rare thing, paired with an even rarer smile as he appreciates Lucius over him. It is a nice vision, and certainly better than anything he's seen in recent memory.
Freed of his buttons, Izzy quickly undoes his cuffs and loosens his collar. The tie stays, but the rest is wriggled out of about as elegantly as you can expect from a drunk on his back. Not amazing and maybe requiring a little bit of help to hork the bulk over his head seeing as he's laying on a lot of it, but we get there in the end. It fucks his hair up, but a small price to pay and it was already fucked up before. Who's counting, not Izzy.
Maybe Izzy.
It's neither here nor there because they're both shirtless now and he's feeling confident about it. Scars and ink on display for Lucius to take however he'd like. He's doing the same with perfect, unblemished skin. Not a silver hair in sight. Thinking Lucius pure is absurd, but he is whole and warm and interested. Izzy couldn't ask for more, really, blessed with this vision of young top him.
"You're beautiful," he breathes. Effeminate perhaps but handsome doesn't quite measure up.
Lucius is drinking in the sight of Israel Hands without his shirt. All the hard edges and silver scars bedecked in silver and dark grey chest hair. He is entirely ready to just mouth along the man's collarbone and tug that little silk cravat--but--
A surprised and pleased laugh bubbles out of Lucius and he smiles, curiously, down at Izzy. He--he called him beautiful?
Lucius is absolutely vain, that's a key facet of who he is, and this certainly isn't the first time he's been called beautiful but--well--he hadn't expected it at all. Izzy is his friend--they're making out and, well, stripping--there's--he finds him beautiful?
"Flatterer," Lucius accuses fondly and bends to place a quick kiss on Izzy's mouth before moving along and finally sating his curiosity and tasting Izzy's skin. He's too tipsy to think up compliments, not for someone as complex as Izzy is, so he doesn't try. Instead, he trails open mouthed kisses along his jaw. Teeth, tongue, and lips drag at the slight stubble of a day old shave--Izzy tastes like salt and leather and the slight tang of that cologne.
"When've I ever?" Izzy answers with a purr, tipping his face to give Lucius better access whichever direction he wants to go. He's reactive under the motion, arching up as he tries to press them together as much as possible.
He doesn't need a compliment back, the action is enough. More than plenty for the starving faithful. Fucking hell, he would let Lucius do just about anything in this moment.
Absently, Izzy decides the likes the sound of Lucius' laugh when it isn't directed at his defeat. He'd like to hear it more often. He likes how soft the man's skin is. Likes the weight of him pressing down. Solid and anchoring but just as reactive. The sort of feeling that lingers once it's all over. How dangerous it is to dwell. To commit every touch and kiss and sound to drunken memory.
This is just a fantastic way to end the day, gold stars all around. He can feel Izzy's pulse under his lips and teeth, feels it jump as he bites down just a touch as he travels down. Izzy's collarbone cuts a stark line and then his pecs--Lucius has never once entertained the idea of biting Izzy Hands's tits but, right this moment, he can't even prevent himself.
Were he fully sober he would have paused, remembered general decorum, and not just gone around biting down on the meat of another man's chest without permission. But he's not and he doesn't ask, just does it, and chases that firm nip with his tongue and a sucking kiss.
It pulls from Izzy a sharp gasp, back arching up, mouth open with pleasure-pain. Nipple pebbling under the attention.
Joke’s on you, Lucius. You don’t have to ask. He’s into this shit, and his hand smooths by reflex down the back of the lad’s head as if to reassure. As if to ask for more.
“Ffh-“ it’s shuddery, coursing through his veins like fire, even dizzier as the blood in his body redirects to his cock. Hips grinding up for hungry contact.
Lucius takes cues well and, frankly, he wants to keep going already so it's no huge chore to indulge. Izzy's shuddery sound is a lovely little thing and it goes straight down Lucius's spine. When Izzy grinds up, he meets nothing but air as Lucius scooches back just a touch.
No, Lucius wants more of that desperate little fluttery noise Izzy makes and a little bit of denial seems a good way to make that happen.
Just a little bit of denial, though, because Lucius is having a grand old time and he's not about to deny himself. He starts biting down firmly along Izzy's pec, once, twice, a third time. He bites harder than he ought to, caught up in the moment, and moves along until he can catch Izzy's nipple with his mouth.
It works, and Lucius gets that fluttering noise of desperation again, punctuated with gasps and growls for the biting.
Denial is a cruel game but it only makes Izzy want it- this- whatever happens- more. Predictable. It somehow manages to make Lucius even more endearing. He cards his fingers over the others scalp, short, neat nails digging just that little bit. His other hand grips Lucius’ shoulder tightly and for a moment he curses that glove in the way. Lucius has seen, he knows, he could just-
Oh fuck it, Izzy tugs the thing off with his teeth and tosses it to join the rest of their clothes in the heap. Eager to touch and roam, sucking a hard shiver as Lucius goes to work on his nipple. What a wholly vulnerable feeling but incredibly sexy.
Izzy makes the most astounding sounds, just a symphony of rasping, debauched man, and Lucius is absolutely here for every one of them. He repeats his treatment of Izzy's tit on the other side, sucking hard on abused flesh until there's the faint rise of a bruise. He keeps arched as he goes, just so Izzy has naught to grind against, but that comes at the cost of Lucius having nothing to grind against either.
By the time he's indulged to his heart's content, Lucius is tenting his stupid swim trunks and he knows Izzy is straining against his leathers. He never expected this to happen and would have laughed in the face of anyone who suggested it even an hour ago, but here they are and Lucius, with swollen lips pulled into a grin, peers up Izzy's chest at his throat, at his face.
"What would you like?" Lucius asks, the first words in a long while. He knows what he'd do given his druthers, but Izzy's the one pinned to the couch.
What would he like. What a question. No one ever asks him that. Now, presented with the opportunity, he doesn’t have the sobriety to think about it.
Which may be a blessing because, were he sober, this wouldn’t be happening at all. It is almost certain.
This lack of sobriety is a blessing two fold, actually, because he doesn’t have to think at all. Seeing Lucius above him, wearing the lad’s marks on his chest, teetering on the edge of monstrous starvation, Izzy knows exactly what he’d like.
For the second time in one night, Izzy startles a laugh out of Lucius. This one is huskier, laced with intent, but amused nonetheless. His grin splits his face in a way that, on anyone else, might look threatening.
"Oh, absolutely," Lucius confirms and his hands shift to Izzy's trousers even as he rises up and crushes his lips against Izzy's mouth again. This part he can do blind and it isn't long before he's got the laces undone and his fingers pressing down on the waistband. He has to stand to strip them and, as such, this latest kiss is kept shallow and brief.
"Strip for me and I'll demonstrate," Lucius offers and, with great resolve, moves back off Izzy's lap and stands.
It’s easier to strip the bottom half without being pinned into a sofa. Not that being pinned isn’t extremely nice, because it is.
Izzy pulls himself up with a grunt and swings his legs over. His boots are already off and with laces undone it’s nothing to pull himself up (the room is spinning a bit, it’s fine, just makes it more fun) and peel himself out of his leathers.
It feels almost like a stand off, then, as Lucius drops his shorts and they are confronted by each other in the nude, erect and fully presented.
Izzy doesn’t like the lack of contact and quickly moves to close it, taking them towards the bed at the same time. Why fuck on a couch when you have the most marvellously soft bed you have ever experienced in your life there for the taking.
Izzy is a sight in the nude but, before Lucius can really look his fill, Izzy is closing the space and their mouths collide again as he drags them the short distance to the bed. Lucius pivots and, when Izzy's knees catch the impossibly soft mattress, he breaks their kissing and gives the man a shove. Izzy topples onto the bed and Lucius cages him in, briefly bending to nip at his throat and neck before dropping back.
He had, on the off chance he'd get lucky after the party, actually come prepared. This is convenient because, honestly, his drunken mind cannot possibly reconcile the idea of asking Izzy if he has any lube around, nor dealing with an affirmative on that. Lucius kneels to grab the little container from the pocket of his awful floral print short and, being that he's already down here, it's an easy maneuver to draw one of Izzy's knees over his shoulder. When he straightens up, Izzy's leg shifts and puts the whole of him on display.
Lovely. Love that.
He wastes no time opening his little container and dipping fingers in and, with a smug smile like the cat who ate the canary, he immediately starts massaging the slick, almost balm-like substance right against Izzy's hole.
Mother of god, that escalated quickly. But you know what? Good. It saves faffing about and while Izzy is happy to switch this saves the discussion. Fuck it. Lucius even came prepared.
It shows good initiative, you know? Preparedness.
But it does all happen very fast and very intimately. Izzy might belt him again if he weren’t drunk, surprised into surrender, and feeling shamefully exposed. Funny how shame can become arousal. There might be something to that.
Plus the confidence by contrast is a nice look on Lucius. A predatory smile, fingers knowing exactly what to fucking do. They’re wasted and it’s still going to be a good shag, he can just fuckin tell. So why be a cunt about it. Why not just give in. So he does.
Izzy huffs a laugh, forcing himself to breathe out and relax his body. One leg up make it easy and he shifts his leg even more with invitation. Hard cock up against his belly which Izzy reaches to take in hand.
“If you’re awful I’ll never let you live it down, you know that, yeah.”
Izzy hadn't asked him if he knew how to do foreplay, he'd asked if Lucius knew how to fuck. While Lucius would be game for riding Izzy into the ground, that's rather more 'getting fucked'. (A suggestion that Izzy has made to him many times in the past, but not tonight.)
"Oh please," Lucius scoffs and Izzy relaxes, shifting in invitation and making more space for his hand. He rewards the effort by working a finger into the man beneath him. The second follows shortly after and with no catch at all. The lube of the future is dead useful, isn't it?
"If there's one thing I know I'm good at it's this," Lucius tells him and leans in, his free hand moving to the outside of Izzy's thigh, holding it on his shoulder and forcing him to tilt his hips to accommodate. He's so close that, as his hand works in Izzy, the length of his cock ends up bobbing against the cleft of Izzy's ass.
"But, by all means, if it's bad I won't even argue."
Oh, Izzy doesn't give a rat's ass about foreplay right now. Not with Lucius hooked inside of him like that. It's kind that he's considerate in the first instance. Izzy wouldn't have been surprised nor would he have complained were they to forego prep entirely. Taking the time, even drunk, speaks volumes which he will parse out later when he sets himself to breakdown over this development.
"Good," he breathes as he wills himself to relax even more, focusing on all the little sensations which combine into drunken bliss at the hands and cock and lips of another man. It has been far, far too long. Hips up, prick now pointing at himself from the angle.
Izzy needs better purchase than to touch himself, and redirects his hands to tangle in the bed sheets above his head. It's not much of an anchor but it's enough, trusting Lucius' strength and his unclaimed leg to keep him up where he needs to be.
"More flattery? If this is a new habit, I love it," Lucius croons as he plies Izzy open. He's doing such a good job relaxing and, whether it's the alcohol or just willpower, it's making Lucius's work that much easier.
Izzy is tight, even when relaxed, and if it wouldn't earn him a cuffing of the ear to comment on it, he would. As is, his own cock is already rock hard and distracting, spurned on by his imagining how Izzy will feel around him. They're close, enough that Lucius decides to add a third finger and finally really sets about scissoring him open.
"You looks so delicious like this," Lucius says, driven near to distraction and places a playful, biting kiss on the thigh next to his head. Should he suck a mark into it? His drunken mind says: yes, and he immediately sets about to do just that.
Delicious is one of those words that could mean anything in the right context. In a kitchen, safety and nourishment. In the feather light nothings of delight, pure joy. In bed, well it very much depends on the partner. Izzy feels, as he hears it, that he has very much met his match in Lucius Spriggs who somehow employs playful flirtation with the undercurrent of danger and has learned to cut Izzy at the knees with incredible efficiency. It's the same sort of feeling Izzy always has around Lucius, not able to read him fully, confused as fuck about everything the man is and has become in their time of knowing each other.
This, here and now, brought between drunken, delicious delight, and something that could very easily be a threat, isn't really any different.
Well, the one difference being that Izzy very much wants to see what happens. It isn't about emotion, it isn't about anything other than the act. And that's okay. He wouldn't want it to be more. Emotions are dangerous things and they cloud your judgment. Just look at Edward. This is.. he can do this and keep a friendship (still wild to him) and it not have to be anything more than that.
A lot more would have to happen before emotions could be recognized and he honestly just isn't ready to deal with it. Hasn't had to, really. Why start now.
Besides, if he wanted to.. where would he even begin?
Izzy answers only with a high, breathy moan as he sinks into the sensation of the pulled bruise and fingers stretching him open. In the pleasure of this stupid, stupid moment that he needs so very desperately. He has patience, for a moment, to let this happen but should Lucius take any more time that Izzy thinks it's required he'll start to make noise about it. Rest assured. Quit fucking around, I'm good, let's do this-
Still, can't help but wonder if it were Anne who taught him all this. Seeing as she's developed in Lucius a very particular skill set. Izzy can't help but wonder further if he'll see any more glimpses of it.
You don't have to gentle," he says for good measure. Testing a boundary he hasn't approached with Lucius before.
"Oh, a tough guy, should have known," Lucius drawls as he leaves that bruise on Izzy's inner thigh. His assurance is enough, though, and Lucius withdraws his fingers and draws the remaining slick over himself. He lines up and, alright, so maybe he delays just to watch Izzy's expression go a little sour about it.
It's worth it to sit there, prick throbbing in hand, head of it tortuously pressed against his stretched rim, not doing a goddamn thing, if only to watch Izzy get fussed.
"Do you want me to break you? Cause I can give that a go if you're into it."
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Now he can hold himself upright, now his hands don't have to be planted on the boring couch. He immediately draws both over Izzy's chest and to his shoulders. One finds his hair, then, wanders until it's buried, and the other ends up bracing his jaw. Drunken Lucius thinks it's a great idea to pull Izzy into alignment, a tug this way on his hair, and press that way with his beard, and suddenly kissing is both easier and filthier.
He licks his way into Izzy's mouth like the man had demanded it. He had, hadn't he? Growled and threatened him not to back off--oh, and that growl? What a lovely threat, best thing rasped at him all day, no notes.
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Here they are talking about mending a very fragile friendship in it's infancy only to pitch head first into actions that will undoubtedly make it messy and complicated. It is stupid. It is reckless. But oh how it makes him feel alive.
Lucius yields to the request immediately and Izzy is so glad, pulling him close and letting himself be manipulated into a more comfortable position, ripe for the picking. And he wants to be picked. Just once, where someone would choose him.
Izzy kisses how he fights, aggressive and unyielding. He fucks the same way, too, if only because he has never been allowed another option. Maybe here.
He softens the kiss just a hair, taking Lucius' bottom lip between his teeth and running his tongue over as if tasting him for the first time. He wants more. And so he sinks into it again, one hand steady in the man's shirt front, the other finding it's way into soft brown hair where it curls with claim.
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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?"
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"And if I were?"
Why are they talking about this, why have they stopped kissing. Fuck, he hopes Lucius hasn't come to his senses already. He hopes he doesn't either.
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Lucius doesn't even bother to hide his delight, grinning as he dives back in to claim Izzy's mouth again. He's still breathless, head swimming a bit, but that doesn't matter. Not only had their silly little prank worked but Izzy was wearing one of the packets. He could figure out which one later.
For right now, Lucius's eagerness is back in force. He has not considered the consequences of this series of actions, and he's not likely to. No, all he's considering at the moment is how to get his hands up under Izzy's leather vest and billowing shirt.
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Buttoned up as tightly as he is, the only way under the vest is to open in. The fastenings are tight but few, garment well tailored and molded to his body through years of wear.
One of his hands goes right back into Lucius' hair. The other, gloved, finds his hip and squeezes before roaming up his side. Izzy should feel guilty about this, he is sure, but he just doesn't give a single fuck, and the dizzy slide of warm flesh under his hand is all consuming. Naturally, he reaches the same conclusion as his partner. There are too many clothes in the way. It needs to be rectified immediately.
"Take this off," he murmurs through the kiss, tugging at Lucius' shirt.
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Lucius shrugs off his bolero and casts it aside, free to fall wherever in a heap on the floor. Then, without pause, pops the top button on his Tommy Bahama shirt, reaches behind his head, and hauls the whole thing off in one long pull. It is cast aside just like his bolero, thrown somewhere behind him without regret.
He's flushed, already, from drink and kissing, he's still wearing a ghost of his previous smile, and now he's shirtless. This has progressed nicely. He takes advantage of his temporary withdrawal and devotes both hands to Izzy's vest. His fingers are nimble, even with clothing that is entirely unfamiliar, and he has the thing loose with only a few seconds of attentive effort.
"Your turn."
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Freed of his buttons, Izzy quickly undoes his cuffs and loosens his collar. The tie stays, but the rest is wriggled out of about as elegantly as you can expect from a drunk on his back. Not amazing and maybe requiring a little bit of help to hork the bulk over his head seeing as he's laying on a lot of it, but we get there in the end. It fucks his hair up, but a small price to pay and it was already fucked up before. Who's counting, not Izzy.
Maybe Izzy.
It's neither here nor there because they're both shirtless now and he's feeling confident about it. Scars and ink on display for Lucius to take however he'd like. He's doing the same with perfect, unblemished skin. Not a silver hair in sight. Thinking Lucius pure is absurd, but he is whole and warm and interested. Izzy couldn't ask for more, really, blessed with this vision of young top him.
"You're beautiful," he breathes. Effeminate perhaps but handsome doesn't quite measure up.
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A surprised and pleased laugh bubbles out of Lucius and he smiles, curiously, down at Izzy. He--he called him beautiful?
Lucius is absolutely vain, that's a key facet of who he is, and this certainly isn't the first time he's been called beautiful but--well--he hadn't expected it at all. Izzy is his friend--they're making out and, well, stripping--there's--he finds him beautiful?
"Flatterer," Lucius accuses fondly and bends to place a quick kiss on Izzy's mouth before moving along and finally sating his curiosity and tasting Izzy's skin. He's too tipsy to think up compliments, not for someone as complex as Izzy is, so he doesn't try. Instead, he trails open mouthed kisses along his jaw. Teeth, tongue, and lips drag at the slight stubble of a day old shave--Izzy tastes like salt and leather and the slight tang of that cologne.
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He doesn't need a compliment back, the action is enough. More than plenty for the starving faithful. Fucking hell, he would let Lucius do just about anything in this moment.
Absently, Izzy decides the likes the sound of Lucius' laugh when it isn't directed at his defeat. He'd like to hear it more often. He likes how soft the man's skin is. Likes the weight of him pressing down. Solid and anchoring but just as reactive. The sort of feeling that lingers once it's all over. How dangerous it is to dwell. To commit every touch and kiss and sound to drunken memory.
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Were he fully sober he would have paused, remembered general decorum, and not just gone around biting down on the meat of another man's chest without permission. But he's not and he doesn't ask, just does it, and chases that firm nip with his tongue and a sucking kiss.
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Joke’s on you, Lucius. You don’t have to ask. He’s into this shit, and his hand smooths by reflex down the back of the lad’s head as if to reassure. As if to ask for more.
“Ffh-“ it’s shuddery, coursing through his veins like fire, even dizzier as the blood in his body redirects to his cock. Hips grinding up for hungry contact.
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No, Lucius wants more of that desperate little fluttery noise Izzy makes and a little bit of denial seems a good way to make that happen.
Just a little bit of denial, though, because Lucius is having a grand old time and he's not about to deny himself. He starts biting down firmly along Izzy's pec, once, twice, a third time. He bites harder than he ought to, caught up in the moment, and moves along until he can catch Izzy's nipple with his mouth.
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Denial is a cruel game but it only makes Izzy want it- this- whatever happens- more. Predictable. It somehow manages to make Lucius even more endearing. He cards his fingers over the others scalp, short, neat nails digging just that little bit. His other hand grips Lucius’ shoulder tightly and for a moment he curses that glove in the way. Lucius has seen, he knows, he could just-
Oh fuck it, Izzy tugs the thing off with his teeth and tosses it to join the rest of their clothes in the heap. Eager to touch and roam, sucking a hard shiver as Lucius goes to work on his nipple. What a wholly vulnerable feeling but incredibly sexy.
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By the time he's indulged to his heart's content, Lucius is tenting his stupid swim trunks and he knows Izzy is straining against his leathers. He never expected this to happen and would have laughed in the face of anyone who suggested it even an hour ago, but here they are and Lucius, with swollen lips pulled into a grin, peers up Izzy's chest at his throat, at his face.
"What would you like?" Lucius asks, the first words in a long while. He knows what he'd do given his druthers, but Izzy's the one pinned to the couch.
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Which may be a blessing because, were he sober, this wouldn’t be happening at all. It is almost certain.
This lack of sobriety is a blessing two fold, actually, because he doesn’t have to think at all. Seeing Lucius above him, wearing the lad’s marks on his chest, teetering on the edge of monstrous starvation, Izzy knows exactly what he’d like.
He swallows. And never without a challenge:
“Can you fuck?”
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"Oh, absolutely," Lucius confirms and his hands shift to Izzy's trousers even as he rises up and crushes his lips against Izzy's mouth again. This part he can do blind and it isn't long before he's got the laces undone and his fingers pressing down on the waistband. He has to stand to strip them and, as such, this latest kiss is kept shallow and brief.
"Strip for me and I'll demonstrate," Lucius offers and, with great resolve, moves back off Izzy's lap and stands.
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Izzy pulls himself up with a grunt and swings his legs over. His boots are already off and with laces undone it’s nothing to pull himself up (the room is spinning a bit, it’s fine, just makes it more fun) and peel himself out of his leathers.
It feels almost like a stand off, then, as Lucius drops his shorts and they are confronted by each other in the nude, erect and fully presented.
Izzy doesn’t like the lack of contact and quickly moves to close it, taking them towards the bed at the same time. Why fuck on a couch when you have the most marvellously soft bed you have ever experienced in your life there for the taking.
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He had, on the off chance he'd get lucky after the party, actually come prepared. This is convenient because, honestly, his drunken mind cannot possibly reconcile the idea of asking Izzy if he has any lube around, nor dealing with an affirmative on that. Lucius kneels to grab the little container from the pocket of his awful floral print short and, being that he's already down here, it's an easy maneuver to draw one of Izzy's knees over his shoulder. When he straightens up, Izzy's leg shifts and puts the whole of him on display.
Lovely. Love that.
He wastes no time opening his little container and dipping fingers in and, with a smug smile like the cat who ate the canary, he immediately starts massaging the slick, almost balm-like substance right against Izzy's hole.
Fuck off stalkers we’re 🍆💦 over here
It shows good initiative, you know? Preparedness.
But it does all happen very fast and very intimately. Izzy might belt him again if he weren’t drunk, surprised into surrender, and feeling shamefully exposed. Funny how shame can become arousal. There might be something to that.
Plus the confidence by contrast is a nice look on Lucius. A predatory smile, fingers knowing exactly what to fucking do. They’re wasted and it’s still going to be a good shag, he can just fuckin tell. So why be a cunt about it. Why not just give in. So he does.
Izzy huffs a laugh, forcing himself to breathe out and relax his body. One leg up make it easy and he shifts his leg even more with invitation. Hard cock up against his belly which Izzy reaches to take in hand.
“If you’re awful I’ll never let you live it down, you know that, yeah.”
LMAO.
"Oh please," Lucius scoffs and Izzy relaxes, shifting in invitation and making more space for his hand. He rewards the effort by working a finger into the man beneath him. The second follows shortly after and with no catch at all. The lube of the future is dead useful, isn't it?
"If there's one thing I know I'm good at it's this," Lucius tells him and leans in, his free hand moving to the outside of Izzy's thigh, holding it on his shoulder and forcing him to tilt his hips to accommodate. He's so close that, as his hand works in Izzy, the length of his cock ends up bobbing against the cleft of Izzy's ass.
"But, by all means, if it's bad I won't even argue."
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"Good," he breathes as he wills himself to relax even more, focusing on all the little sensations which combine into drunken bliss at the hands and cock and lips of another man. It has been far, far too long. Hips up, prick now pointing at himself from the angle.
Izzy needs better purchase than to touch himself, and redirects his hands to tangle in the bed sheets above his head. It's not much of an anchor but it's enough, trusting Lucius' strength and his unclaimed leg to keep him up where he needs to be.
"You're stronger than I thought you'd be."
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Izzy is tight, even when relaxed, and if it wouldn't earn him a cuffing of the ear to comment on it, he would. As is, his own cock is already rock hard and distracting, spurned on by his imagining how Izzy will feel around him. They're close, enough that Lucius decides to add a third finger and finally really sets about scissoring him open.
"You looks so delicious like this," Lucius says, driven near to distraction and places a playful, biting kiss on the thigh next to his head. Should he suck a mark into it? His drunken mind says: yes, and he immediately sets about to do just that.
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This, here and now, brought between drunken, delicious delight, and something that could very easily be a threat, isn't really any different.
Well, the one difference being that Izzy very much wants to see what happens. It isn't about emotion, it isn't about anything other than the act. And that's okay. He wouldn't want it to be more. Emotions are dangerous things and they cloud your judgment. Just look at Edward. This is.. he can do this and keep a friendship (still wild to him) and it not have to be anything more than that.
A lot more would have to happen before emotions could be recognized and he honestly just isn't ready to deal with it. Hasn't had to, really. Why start now.
Besides, if he wanted to.. where would he even begin?
Izzy answers only with a high, breathy moan as he sinks into the sensation of the pulled bruise and fingers stretching him open. In the pleasure of this stupid, stupid moment that he needs so very desperately. He has patience, for a moment, to let this happen but should Lucius take any more time that Izzy thinks it's required he'll start to make noise about it. Rest assured. Quit fucking around, I'm good, let's do this-
Still, can't help but wonder if it were Anne who taught him all this. Seeing as she's developed in Lucius a very particular skill set. Izzy can't help but wonder further if he'll see any more glimpses of it.
You don't have to gentle," he says for good measure. Testing a boundary he hasn't approached with Lucius before.
"You won't break me."
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It's worth it to sit there, prick throbbing in hand, head of it tortuously pressed against his stretched rim, not doing a goddamn thing, if only to watch Izzy get fussed.
"Do you want me to break you? Cause I can give that a go if you're into it."
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