Twinsensibility Part Thirty Seven

[dysonrules]

FUCK YEAH! I am productive today!!! *ahem* (And quite possibly severely addicted to writing kissy drabbles.) *runs away to write another one*

Lysander grinned at Lorcan and stepped back a pace, glancing around casually. The few students lurking in the library barely paid them any notice. Even those witnessing the kiss seemed to take it in stride—apparently years of attaching himself to Lorcan’s side had paid off, at least when it came to an inability to shock their fellow students.

Lysander chuckled anyway and said, “That potion really knocked you for a loop, brother dear. We’d best get you sorted before anything else happens.”

Lorcan only nodded and Lysander turned to drag him out of the library by the hand. Lily and Absinthe trailed behind, arguing about how the dynamics of power would change in Slytherin House if Maribeth was expelled. Lysander shook his head wryly. Slytherins. Always jockeying for position. They were so strange. In Ravenclaw, the smartest were at the upper echelons, but they rarely lorded it over the others, being far too busy with their studies to bother.

Lorcan’s hand was warm in his as Lys towed him quickly down the hall. Ravenclaw Tower was their eventual destination, but first…

Lysander pulled Lorcan into a darkened alcove and pushed him up against the wall with a motion that sent the breath huffing from Lorcan’s chest.

“Lysander? What the—?”

Lysander put a finger to Lorcan’s lips and waited quietly until Lily and Abby wandered past and continued on, still arguing, apparently not even noticing that the boys had disappeared.

When their footsteps faded away, Lysander regarded Lorcan and then leaned in and pressed a soft kiss on his brother’s lips. Before Lorcan could react, Lysander moulded his body along the length of Lorcan’s, creating as much contact as possible through the confining robes.

He raised his hands to Lorcan’s face and deepened the kiss, tracing the familiar paths of Lorcan’s mouth, lingering in the sensitive areas and delighting in the involuntary quivers that moved his brother’s frame with every sensual lick and stroke. Lysander’s fingertips grazed Lorcan’s hair as he drew light circles over his face.

Lysander rocked his hips forward, rubbing over Lorcan’s growing erection with a sense of smug satisfaction. It pleased him to drag this reaction from Lorcan, knowing he was still under her thrall. Despite that, Lorcan belonged to him. Only to him.

“You’re mine, Lorcan,” Lysander murmured, breaking the kiss only long enough to utter the words.

“Yours,” Lorcan agreed, although the word was lost in Lysander’s mouth, muffled into a guttural sound of acknowledgment.

Lorcan’s fingers curled around Lysander’s hips and then slipped lower to dig almost painfully into Lysander’s arse; the distance between them, thin as cloth, was still too much.

Lysander frotted against him mindlessly, drowning in the kiss. They wouldn’t make it upstairs.