(For those who don't know, Lorcan and Lysander Scamander are Luna Lovegood's twin sons. She married Rolf Scamander according to an interview given by JKR following Deathly Hallows. This fic should have quite a few warnings, so if you don't like mansex and incest and potentially squicky things like that, I suggest you stop reading now.)
Lorcan smiled indulgently as he watched Lysander shake his hips and undulate like a serpent. His arms were lifted over his head, just brushing the brim of the black top hat he wore. Lysander's pale hair cascaded from the hat to brush his shoulders in loose curls.
The man dancing with Lysander was practically drooling. His hands were clamped loosely around Lysander's rocking hips, most likely slick with sweat on the leather hot pants. Lorcan absently wondered how his brother kept his testicles cool when he wore such ridiculous clothing, not that it wasn't riveting to watch.
Probably a spell, he acknowledged. Lysander might look like a vapid tart, but a sharp Ravenclaw mind lay beneath that silly hat.
Lysander's abdomen was bare. He wore a cropped shirt of shimmery silk—also black—and Lorcan's eyes drifted higher to fix on the black collar around his brother's neck.
Lorcan took a long, slow drink from his glass and watched Lysander laugh in delight as the man leaned close to whisper in his ear.
"He's pretty, but a bit flash, don't you think?" asked a voice beside him and Lorcan turned to see an auburn-haired man indicate Lysander with a twitch of his head. The man turned his gaze to Lorcan. "Of course, if you go for that sort of thing I can probably locate some sequins and lace."
The man's dark eyes roamed up and down his frame and Lorcan smiled without amusement. The fool had no idea Lysander was his twin. Then again, he had to admit the differences between them were more obvious than the similarities.
Where Lysander's mode of dress was borderline pornographic, Lorcan was the very picture of conservative. His slate grey Muggle suit was shot through with white pinstripes, perfectly tailored and impeccable. Lorcan's hair was short and exquisitely styled, hanging artfully over his eyes in order to hide them on the rare occasions he was not wearing shades—like now.
"You're really very attractive," the newcomer continued and boldly reached out to place a hand on Lorcan's forearm. Lorcan noted that he was very nice looking, if one was into the tall, dark, muscular sort.
Lorcan glanced back at Lysander, who had moved even closer to his dance partner. The man had a leg between Lysander's knees, dangerously near to his brother's gyrating pelvis. Lysander's hands were draped around the man's neck. Lorcan noticed with a flash of annoyance that the dancer's hands had moved down to grip Lysander's tight arse.
"Am I?" Lorcan purred and turned back to his new friend. The hand on his arm tightened and the fellow sidled nearer. He leaned in to Lorcan so that his lips brushed the shell of his ear when he spoke.
"I'm yours for the evening, if you like," the man whispered.
Lorcan looked back at the dance floor to find Lysander watching him through narrowed eyes. His brother practically painted himself against his dance partner and tipped his head back invitingly. Obviously smitten, the man lowered his mouth to capture Lysander's parted lips.
With a low growl, Lorcan pushed away from his potential shag and walked onto the dance floor. He snatched Lysander's wrist and squeezed lightly.
"We are going home," he said tonelessly. "Now."
Lysander pouted prettily. His date was more vocal. "Hey! Shove off, mate!"
Lorcan turned his full attention to the man and whatever he had been about to say died a quick death. He backed away several steps with hands upraised.
"Merlin, I didn't mean nothin'! He's yours, mate!" With that, the man turned tail and fled.
"Oh, pooh," said Lysander. "You always scare the good ones off."
Lorcan felt his lips stretch into a thin line, but he was jostled from behind before he could speak.
"What's the rush, handsome?" his persistent auburn-haired stalker asked. "I thought we had something back there."
"You thought wrong," Lorcan said as he gathered his brother close and Apparated them home.
Lysander pulled away when they appeared in the bedroom. He stalked toward his dressing table and yanked off the top hat. It spun onto the tabletop and knocked over two small glass bottles.
"I was having fun," he said petulantly.
"I noticed," Lorcan replied and congratulated himself on his even tone. Lysander dragged the black shirt over his head with a sweep of his hands. The muscles in his back rippled and the shirt fluttered to the floor. Lorcan clenched his teeth with annoyance—that was deliberate. Lysander's slovenly tendencies never failed to irritate his fastidious nature. He kicked off his shoes and one of them landed on the discarded shirt.
"Lysander, come here," he said.
"No." Lysander picked up a brush and began to pull it through his white-blond hair.
Lorcan cast a wandless Accio and his hand clenched around his black riding crop. "Lysander. Come here." The whip cracked against his thigh as he said the last word and his brother stiffened. He glanced over his shoulder and glared at Lorcan, who felt a rush of something resembling terror that perhaps, this time, Lysander would refuse him.
The moment drew out until Lorcan's heart began to thud in his ears and then Lysander turned with a sigh and took a step toward him. Lorcan's world seemed to right itself with a lurch. He resisted the urge to wipe his palms on his trousers.
"No," he said and heard his voice rasp somewhat. "Not like that."
Lysander scowled, but dropped immediately to his knees. He began to crawl forward on his hands and knees, slowly, placing one hand in front of the other and moving sinuously, like a stalking wildcat. Lorcan's mouth went completely dry and a smile curved Lysander's lips.
He approached with devilish deliberation and Lorcan did not move when his brother's cheek rubbed against his knee like an affectionate kitten. He could not take his eyes from Lysander's blond head and felt his stoic mien crack when Lysander's pink tongue flicked out to touch the whip held still against his thigh.
"Stand up," Lorcan said hoarsely.
Lysander rose and his eyes met Lorcan's for only an instant before dropping demurely. Lorcan raised the crop and pressed the leather tip against Lysander's cheek. He drew it down the side of his neck, over his chest, and stopped at the waistband of the hot pants.
"You may answer with yes… or no," he said. "Did you have fun dancing, Lysander?"
"Yes," he replied and a cheeky smile flashed out. It nearly drew an answering smile from Lorcan, who knew how much his brother loved to dance. The prat would stay out until dawn if Lorcan could tolerate it that long.
"Did you like your dance partner?"
"Yes," he said without hesitation.
"Did you want to go home with him?" Lorcan asked softly.
There was a pause and then Lysander replied, "No."
Lorcan drew the crop down over the silver buttons that held Lysander's outfit closed. "Are you certain?"
"And yet you allowed him to kiss you, Lysander. Why did you do that?"
Lysander scowled, unable to reply. Lorcan smiled at his restraint.
"You know you need to be punished for that, don't you?" he added.
Lysander nodded and replied quietly, "Yes."
Lorcan's eyes dropped to Lysander's black pants. He slowly unbuttoned them and caught his breath in something akin to relief when Lysander's cock pushed from the opening, hard and ready. Unable to resist, Lorcan dropped to his knees and leaned forward to lick a stripe over the head, tasting the smear of precome at the tip.
Lysander drew in a sharp breath and Lorcan felt a hand ghost over his head before coming to a rest on his cheek. He shut his eyes and leaned into his brother's touch for a moment, until he regained control and got to his feet once more.
"Pants off," he said roughly. "Kneel on the bed, hands on the headboard."
Lysander complied, easing out of the leather and hurrying to the bed. Lorcan used his wand to wrap several blue and green ribbons around Lysander's wrists, effectively binding him to the headboard. Only then did he allow himself to appraise his brother's body, taut and waiting.
Fuck, but Lysander was gorgeous. His body was a perfect mirror of Lorcan's, but he always seemed different, somehow, fresher and more alive. He was the light to Lorcan's darkness, the yin to his yang, the other half of his soul. Sometimes it terrified him.
Lorcan brought the crop down across Lysander's buttocks, harder than intended. His brother cried out and jerked against his bonds as a red welt appeared, marring his pale arse cheeks. Lorcan struck again, making a parallel line beneath the first, and then a third. Lysander moaned and his cock twitched, slapping lightly against his belly as he spread his legs wider.
Lorcan threw the whip down and tore at his suit, wrenching at the buttons when they would not cooperate. "You deserve your punishment, don't you, Lysander?" he asked, flinging his coat on the bed and kicking off his shoes.
"Yes," Lysander hissed and wriggled slightly, pleading for more with body language alone. "Yes, Lorcan."
Lorcan picked up the quirt and slashed another welt into Lysander's arse, earning a whimper. "Yes or no only, Lysander," he reminded gently.
"Yes, yes, yes," his brother said in a breathless chant. Lorcan stepped out of his trousers and kicked them aside, ignoring his own rules in his need to get naked. The pants joined the pile and then he climbed onto the bed to position himself behind Lysander, who panted loudly and moaned when Lorcan's knees touched his.
Lorcan's gaze fixed on Lysander's beautiful arse, crisscrossed with angry red lines. He tossed the whip aside and brought his hand down on one arse cheek. Lysander cried out and shuddered. The headboard shook and his knuckles whitened, but he almost immediately leaned back toward Lorcan. A pink handprint appeared and Lorcan stared at it, fascinated.
He reached out and cupped Lorcan's testicles before tugging at them gently. Lysander's moan was so loud it almost echoed. His legs parted even farther and Lorcan was lost, utterly lost. He leaned forward and sucked at Lysander's anus, kissing, laving, and stroking it with hot urgency. His fingers gripped the reddened arse cheeks, holding his brother open and ready as he tongue-fucked him until he thought his jaws would crack.
"Lorcan, Lorcan, Lorcan," Lysander whimpered, pressing back into his mouth with every stroke, breaking the rules that Lorcan no longer cared about with each slick stroke. "So close…"
The words drove Lorcan away from his task to sit back on his haunches. He wiped the liquid away from his chin with the back of his arm as Lysander made a loud shout of frustration. Lysander threw himself backward, straining against his bonds as though the movement would force Lorcan back into position.
It nearly worked. Lorcan loved making Lysander come with his tongue alone—he never even had to touch his brother's cock and the feel of his tight hole shuddering around his mouth was like nothing else—but the memory of Lysander kissing another man stayed fresh in Lorcan's mind.
"I should leave you like this," Lorcan threatened.
"No!" Lysander whimpered. He twisted his head to look at Lorcan through wide eyes.
"You kissed him, Lysander."
"Because of you!"
Lorcan leaned forward, bracing his arms on either side of Lysander's trembling body, but taking care not to touch him.
"Because of me?"
"You let that ginger prat hang all over you! I thought you were going to Disapparate and leave me there. So I kissed him to make you jealous."
Lorcan couldn't speak. He placed a soft kiss between Lysander's shoulder blades and then moved forward until his hard cock touched Lysander's hot, wet hole. Lorcan did not pause, but slid easily into his brother's tight heat, spurred on by renewed soft cries.
His lips traveled upward, nuzzling Lysander's spine. Soft curls brushed at Lorcan's face as his mouth reached the black collar. His black collar.
"Who do you belong to, Lysander?" he asked softly.
"You, Lorcan," Lysander said and groaned when he threw himself backward once more, impaling himself completely. "I'm yours. All yours."
Lorcan pulled out and quickly rammed back into his brother. He repeated the motion and then picked up the pace, sliding in and out in an almost punishing rhythm.
"You're mine, Lysander. Mine, mine, mine," he growled.
Lysander's mewling cries reached a fevered pitch and Lorcan reached down to gently stroke his cock. It twitched in his hand immediately and the tightness gripping his own prick became almost unbearable. Lysander shouted his name as Lorcan thrust a few more times, until a blinding orgasm ripped through him in unison with Lysander's shudders.
He collapsed against his brother, driving him forward into the blankets and tightening the ribbons mercilessly. They panted together for a moment, until Lorcan reached up and loosened the bonds. Lysander's soft sound of relief was like a knife in his gut and he rolled onto his back, pulling Lysander close to curl around him protectively.
They lay unmoving until their breathing steadied and returned to normal levels. Lorcan's cock softened and slipped out of Lysander, making him wince at the lack of contact. Lysander seemed to take it as a sign and he turned over to face him. Lorcan watched his brother's eyes closely, wondering, not for the first time, if he had gone too far.
To his surprise, a smile curved Lysander's lips. "I love making you jealous," he admitted. "You should see yourself. So intense. So fucking hot." Lysander's fingers traced Lorcan's lips gently. "And all for me."
"All for you, Lysander," Lorcan agreed and pulled his brother into a tender kiss. "Always for you."
He wrapped himself around Lysander protectively. When their mother tapped lightly on the door a few minutes later, neither of them stirred. She walked into the room and Lorcan opened one eye when she placed a tray on the bedside table and smiled happily down at them.
"I thought you might be hungry," she said. "My boys. My beautiful boys." She sighed happily. "I'm so glad you'll always take care of each other."
She hummed as she went out and Lysander's lips pressed into Lorcan's collarbone. "Always," he repeated.