dysonrules (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
dysonrules) wrote2009-03-11 07:34 am
dysonrules) wrote2009-03-11 07:34 am
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Twinsensibility Part Three
I didn't manage to squish the prompt in for this week. I will cram it in there eventually, though. Luckily they are running prompts. WOOT!!!
On to the non-pronz... (so far)
Lysander shifted in his seat and glanced sidelong at his brother, trying to stay awake. He was certain there was nothing in the world more boring than History of Magic. Binns should have been sacked decades ago, but how did one discharge a ghost? Short of exorcism, which was not a bad idea now that Lysander thought about it. He might have to mention the idea to one of their Slytherin friends...
Lorcan was awake, of course. He seemed to find History of Magic fascinating, if the pages and pages of notes were any indication. Lorcan looked at Lysander absently and then his gaze sharpened. His blue eyes widened and Lysander suppressed a smirk. Tormenting his brother was too easy. He brushed the quill over his lips once more and allowed his tongue to flick out and swipe over the feathered edge. Lorcan's eyes followed the movement for a moment and then he scowled and looked back at Binns with a determined set to his lips.
Lysander smiled, not missing the fact that Lorcan's note-scribbling had stopped. A black ink stain grew where the tip of his quill pressed into the paper, apparently forgotten. Lorcan seemed fixated on watching Binn's insubstantial form drone on about the founding of the Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures. Lysander made a sucking noise and counted silently. At three, Lorcan's attention snapped back to his mouth. This time Lysander bit at the quill with his teeth and tugged gently.
"What the bloody hell are you doing?" Lorcan hissed.
Lysander blinked at him as if shaking himself from a trance. He set the damp ended quill on the desk and frowned, pushing his lips out in a pout that he routinely practiced. "What do you mean?" he asked.
Lorcan flushed. "Just stop gnawing on your quill," he snapped. "It's for note-taking, not fellatio."
Lysander's eyes widened at the term and Lorcan's cheeks darkened. Lysander grinned wickedly and leaned sideways until his lips brushed against Lorcan's ear. "Then what is for fellatio, Lorcan?" he asked in a purring tone.
Lorcan should have pushed him away and followed the movement with a glare. Lorcan should have returned to his beloved history with an absent wave of his hand. Lorcan should not have shivered and pressed the leaking quill into the desk so hard that the tip snapped. Yes, something was very wrong with Lorcan these days. Something that caused him to stare at Lysander's lips and blush and fidget and fly into a rage over the silliest things. Something was up and Lysander was determined to find out what.
"Don't be disgusting," Lorcan muttered finally and jerked his ruined quill away from his marred scroll.
"You brought it up," Lysander said lightly and returned to his original pose. Lorcan glared at him--finally!--and threw his quill down before conjuring another.
Lysander dropped his quill and located something even more distracting. A lollipop. As he unwrapped it and gave it a healthy lick, Lorcan groaned and buried his face in his hands.
Lysander smiled.
On to the non-pronz... (so far)
Lysander shifted in his seat and glanced sidelong at his brother, trying to stay awake. He was certain there was nothing in the world more boring than History of Magic. Binns should have been sacked decades ago, but how did one discharge a ghost? Short of exorcism, which was not a bad idea now that Lysander thought about it. He might have to mention the idea to one of their Slytherin friends...
Lorcan was awake, of course. He seemed to find History of Magic fascinating, if the pages and pages of notes were any indication. Lorcan looked at Lysander absently and then his gaze sharpened. His blue eyes widened and Lysander suppressed a smirk. Tormenting his brother was too easy. He brushed the quill over his lips once more and allowed his tongue to flick out and swipe over the feathered edge. Lorcan's eyes followed the movement for a moment and then he scowled and looked back at Binns with a determined set to his lips.
Lysander smiled, not missing the fact that Lorcan's note-scribbling had stopped. A black ink stain grew where the tip of his quill pressed into the paper, apparently forgotten. Lorcan seemed fixated on watching Binn's insubstantial form drone on about the founding of the Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures. Lysander made a sucking noise and counted silently. At three, Lorcan's attention snapped back to his mouth. This time Lysander bit at the quill with his teeth and tugged gently.
"What the bloody hell are you doing?" Lorcan hissed.
Lysander blinked at him as if shaking himself from a trance. He set the damp ended quill on the desk and frowned, pushing his lips out in a pout that he routinely practiced. "What do you mean?" he asked.
Lorcan flushed. "Just stop gnawing on your quill," he snapped. "It's for note-taking, not fellatio."
Lysander's eyes widened at the term and Lorcan's cheeks darkened. Lysander grinned wickedly and leaned sideways until his lips brushed against Lorcan's ear. "Then what is for fellatio, Lorcan?" he asked in a purring tone.
Lorcan should have pushed him away and followed the movement with a glare. Lorcan should have returned to his beloved history with an absent wave of his hand. Lorcan should not have shivered and pressed the leaking quill into the desk so hard that the tip snapped. Yes, something was very wrong with Lorcan these days. Something that caused him to stare at Lysander's lips and blush and fidget and fly into a rage over the silliest things. Something was up and Lysander was determined to find out what.
"Don't be disgusting," Lorcan muttered finally and jerked his ruined quill away from his marred scroll.
"You brought it up," Lysander said lightly and returned to his original pose. Lorcan glared at him--finally!--and threw his quill down before conjuring another.
Lysander dropped his quill and located something even more distracting. A lollipop. As he unwrapped it and gave it a healthy lick, Lorcan groaned and buried his face in his hands.
Lysander smiled.