Cheryl Dyson

Lysander pushed into Lorcan slowly, tantalising, listening hard for the breath of sound, barely audible, that meant Lorcan was growing impatient.  Lorcan liked it hard and fast, but he was under Lysander’s control at the moment, hands bound to the earth over his head, at Lysander’s mercy.

 Lysander fought a smile.  He knew Lorcan would never beg him to hurry, no matter how long Lysander took.  He kept on, ever so slowly sinking deeper before pulling out in the same fashion.  Lorcan growled when the head of Lysander’s cock nearly slipped free and then began to slide inward once more.

 Lysander did smile then, pleased to have pushed Lorcan beyond control, but he wasn’t finished yet.  He thrust forward suddenly, driving into his brother and speeding his pace, gripping Lorcan’s hips with sweat-slicked fingers.  Lorcan’s thigh muscles rippled as he used his legs to push himself into Lysander’s movements.

 “Lys,” he said around gasping breaths.  “Let me loose.”

 Lysander thrust and changed his angle of attack.  Lorcan made a sound that was almost—almost—a whimper.  Just a whisper of sound, but it was enough.  Lysander hit the spot again.  “No.”

 Lorcan’s eyes flashed and the thinning of his lips promised retribution, but later.  Right now, Lysander was determined that Lorcan would think of nothing but the feel of Lysander pounding his arse and—oh, yes, mustn’t forget.

 Lysander let go of Lorcan’s hip with his right hand and wrapped one finger and thumb around the crown of Lorcan’s cock.  He had covered Lorcan’s prick in lube earlier, so it was already slick and popped through the circle and out again with each jerk of Lorcan’s hips.

 “You are such a fucking tease, Lysander,” Lorcan snarled, altering his rhythm in order to get more friction against his cock.  He drove it though the ring made by Lysander’s thumb and forefinger, assisted by a minute twitch of Lysander’s wrist.  His body was bowstring-taut, arching against Lysander, arms straining against the invisible bonds that held his hands over his head, clenched into fists.

 Lysander felt his orgasm start to rush through him, spurred on by Lorcan’s crumbling control.  It was going to be explosive, he could tell.

 Lorcan cried out, the sound almost immediately muffled by Lorcan clamping his jaws shut, and then by Lysander’s kiss, because he was coming, spilling into Lorcan’s clenching heat even as fluid drenched his fingers and splattered his abdomen.

 Lysander pressed kisses against Lorcan’s lips as their breath hissed out and mingled.  When Lysander could hardly breathe from snogging, he collapsed on his brother and let the gentle breeze cool his skin.  Somewhere, a bird chirped and was answered.

 “Let me up, Lys,” Lorcan said finally.  “Something is crawling on my leg.”

 Lysander levered himself up on his arms and twisted, reaching for his wand to destroy whatever foul insect dared to crawl over Lorcan’s beautiful skin.  His heroics were for naught, however.

 “It’s a bit of grass,” Lysander said and flicked the green seed head away with the tip of his wand.  It sprang back and grazed Lorcan’s calf again.  Lysander smacked it with his wand, driving it into the blanket that was now mostly bunched beneath Lorcan’s thighs.  When Lysander lifted the wand, the pesky plant bounced up once more, slightly bent, but still determined to torment Lorcan.

 “Lysander, just let me loose,” Lorcan demanded.

 Lysander’s wand whistled though the air and came down on the grass four times in quick succession.  Whack!  Whack!  Whack!  Whack!

 “Lysander!”

 “Oh, all right,” Lys said, glaring at the mangled blade of grass with satisfaction.  He turned back and cast a spell to free Lorcan’s hands.  His brother reached up and twisted his hands in Lysander’s hair, not gently.

 Lysander waited patiently, but instead of speaking Lorcan only dragged his head down for another kiss.  Lysander wriggled atop him and his cock slipped free.  The afternoon air felt cool against his damp length and sweaty testicles.  It was fun to be outside.  He and Lorcan had spent hours and hours in the grassy meadow south of their parents’ house.  It had a lovely pond partially shaded by huge willow trees.  Lysander planned to drag Lorcan into the water to scrub down… just as soon as he recovered his breath.

 A loud pop made Lysander raise his head with an alarmed jerk.  He tightened his hand around his wand and wondered who he would have to Obliviate.  He hoped to hell it wasn’t his mother or father.  To his astonishment, Lily Potter brushed aside some dangling willow branches and grinned at him.

 “Hey, Lys.  Lorcan.  I see you’re enjoying your privacy.”

 “Former privacy,” Lorcan replied.  “What do you want?”

 “How did you find us?” Lysander asked.

 Lily busied herself with examining the leaves on one of the branches, holding it in both hands to shred it.  She shrugged. “Tracking Charm.  I need your help.”

 “Tracking Charm?” both twins said at once.  Lysander looked at Lorcan and then said, “Lily, do you mind turning around for a minute?”

 “Yes,” she said, but she spun around anyway, peeking only once (that Lysander noticed) while he pulled away from Lorcan and dragged his swimming shorts back on.  Lorcan did the same, grimacing at the drying semen on his stomach.

 “What Tracking Charm?” Lorcan snapped.

 “The one I put on you both after Lysander was recovered,” she said and peered over her shoulder before turning round to face them.  “I placed one on everyone after Lysander was found.  I hate to lose friends.”

 “Would have been nice if you’d done that before Lys was taken,” Lorcan muttered.

 Lysander frowned.  “Tracking Charms are really advanced magic.”

 “Daddy’s girl,” she said in a singsong voice and smiled.

 Lysander grinned and Lorcan made a snorting sound as he got to his feet.  “What do you want?”

 Lily reached into her pocket and pulled out an asymmetrical object that looked like a small, misshapen blue stone.  It sat in her palm looking extremely ordinary, even with the blue colouring.  “This,” she said.  “I need to know what it is.”