Dress scrungs

"Comfy?" Lucas cranes his neck to whisper into Magnus' jaw. He's a full head taller than Lucas, sitting on his lap like this, and the evidence is clear in trails of bite marks across his neck.

Lucas feels Magnus nod in response, but he can also feel that he's lying. Hands never quite coming to rest. Thighs taught and quivering in their folded position, still supporting his own weight.

"Sweetheart," he starts, breathing a kiss onto Magnus' shoulder, "/gorgeous/… I got you. You can relax."

Magnus inhales deep, fingers coming to fidget idly at the strap of his dress. "Don' wanna squish you…"

Lucas encourages his reddened face down to his own with a finger on his jaw. "You won't. Pretty little thing like you? Not a chance."

That makes Magnus smile, which in turn makes Lucas' heart thump. "'Kay…" And then he lowers himself properly, the bulk of his soft thighs flattening against Lucas' own. He's not /light/, all muscle and fat and fight, but Lucas is gonna hold him here until neither of them can feel their legs, and probably beyond that.

He trails his fingertips down Magnus' front; down the side seam of his dress, swirling around the hem sitting at his thigh. Magnus, already touch sensitive, shivers when he brushes skin.

"Shame you already got comfy," Lucas smirks, palm creeping under fabric, "we'll just have to leave this on."