Scrungo tiddy

"Take it off… Wait, no, leave it on."

Magnus pauses, unsure fingers hooked in the elastic straps of his dusty pink bralette. He doesn't quite have it in him to quirk a brow or tease Lucas for his eager misdirections, but the implication is there, he hopes.

Lucas, not without shame, squirms in place at the foot of the bed, but his hand hand stays jammed down his pants.

"Pull it down." He decides, chewing his lip. Magnus knows better than to assume he's done. "They're so cute. Wanna see."

Truthfully, he's not sure there's much Lucas can't see already; his nipples peak in wide ovals through the delicate mesh, natural tan flushed red from stimulation and attention and cold. Regardless, Magnus obeys, peeling off one thick strap and then the other until they fall down by his bicep, revealing his bare chest.

It's worth it for Lucas alone, to watch how his hips grind up against the side of his hand. The patchy blush blooming down his neck.

"Fuck, /Magnus/…"

The way he says his name.

They're a couple feet apart, Lucas far enough back on the bed that Magnus can sit pretty on his knees and, in Lucas' words /show off/, but he whispers his affection just the same as when his lips are on his skin. Magnus is shivering and burning alike as he brings a shaky hand to his chest and /tugs/.

Two moans in unison. Magnus drags a calloused finger pad down his nipple and draws another from himself, the fabric of the panties he's confined in straining slightly when Lucas crams his fingers further between his legs at that.

"Could you come just from this?" Lucas breathes, lecherous in a way that only stokes the fire in Magnus' gut.

He nods, because it's true. He's done it before, by himself. But he also inhales, meets Lucas' affectionate gaze with his own, and says, "I'd be louder if it was your hands though."