sarcasm always wins out in the end

A drabble I wrote last night for underlucius. Lucius/Sirius. 174 words. The first time that ever I did write Lucius. Hmm.

Lucius is a beautiful man, tall and broad and golden in a way that shouldn’t be cold, but is. Sirius has known this for years, and so broad shoulders and long blonde hair have become things he hates, almost as much as his mother’s high voice and the Black family crest in his brother’s clothes. But pressed against him, insidious words curling into his ear, it isn’t hate that rises in him.

Lucius’ mouth looks soft and Sirius knows that if he were to move one inch he could taste it, taste the lies or perhaps even the truth on the other man’s lips. The fingers stroking the private flesh of his elbows are smooth, teasing, skillful in the way they turn a threat into a caress. And it is this temptation that tells him he must not, he must run away and never speak to the likes of this man again.

But Sirius pushes away, he cannot help but press into Lucius and the look in the half-lidded eyes makes his stomach flip.