Fourth Year

[Silas Prince]

stop there and let me correct it ,

i wanna live a life from a new perspective

His fingers seemed disjointed at the knuckles, the way they bent around the ladle in his hands, bringing it up through a white-knuckled grip to pass under the hooked nose before tilting it to fall- tar like in its consistency. Which was just as it had been intended, the strange odor coming off of it completely masking his own. It was a weekend and the boy hadn't been able to pull himself away from the room, had been given permission of sorts at least; but food, showers, basic hygiene and all had been completely forgotten in his urgency to test his new theory. And test it he had, notes in the margins of the already cramped text book scrawled hastily as he adjusted both the ingredients and the way they were used. They thought themselves so clever, the men who made these books- who were praised so highly for it- but they didn't have the feel for it he did, couldn't speak to the ingredients in quite the same way. The didn't take the time to listen to the way the leaves rustled in their palms before crushing them, didn't experiment with the way that the things they 'knew' to be true might be misguided. But Silas? Oh he had all the time in the world- had the passion and drive to do so, the thirst so very real in the back of his throat to know more than what was being shoved down his throat and labeled education. No better than the textbook authors the teachers didn't try and that was infuriating. These books, their words and his experimentation with them were his best friends. Kept him company through long nights of no sleep and days spent with cruel mockery. It wasn't until he was lowering the fire beneath the cauldron to a simmer that he realized eyes were on him, oil smudged hand lifting up to push the greasy strands from his own forehead, slicking them back and observing the blonde who leaned so arrogantly against the doorjamb- perfectly at ease despite the dim surrounding that seemed so out of depth with the bright colors clothing him- through wide, bruise stained eyes.

He hadn't paused in the minor alterations he'd been making in class the day he decided he needed to experiment on his own to tell Lucien that he would be gone- it hadn't occurred to him in time before he was in this very room making and remaking the potion to perfection. It was an art, it was a need- one that festered beneath his nails more than any dirt or grime acquired in the act of fulfilling that need ever would. It made his palms itch and his disposition more nervous that it was like to be given any familiar occasion. He should have counted on the presence given how many days he had been gone, but he couldn't even remember coherently the last time he had been in class or seen the other boy at all. He could give a complete and comprehensive oral report on every thing that had been done to alter the contents of the cauldron and every batch that had come out before it in vivid detail, but he could no more remember the time span he spent here than he could the name of the house elf who had stumbled over him in the dimly lit corridor his second year here trying to relocate the very room he was now in to make it his own home. His only home really. “That smells worse than you do,” Another slow blink and the beginnings of a grin were spreading across Silas' lips because that was exactly what it was supposed to do, stink, the odor coming off of it was even more foul than the professor had ever hoped to replicate and that made it worth all the time spent. “Yes, like dung beetles and rotting wood?” Double checking as he leaned forward himself, inhaling deeply as if that could any better his lack of smell after the days spent in here than anything else he had tried. His lips twitched down from their smile, pensive frown working its way into place as he tilted his head, greasy locks falling unnoticed back down over his forehead. “No, no,” muttering to himself as he lifted his arms, stained arms drooping back to his elbows as he added a pinch of the purple leaf laying to his right into the mixture, watching it sizzle into nothing and the color stain an even deeper orange. “I don't think-” his words were cut off by clothes, one arm folding around them before they could fall, struggling to reright them in his grasp and away from the cauldron before he leaned back over it again. If he could just- but Lucien was in the way of the book he needed to write in and edging around him of all people was not only an impracticality but an impossibility. “I just need another half day.” If that.

“You NEED a shower,” That was hardly a necessity but Silas wasn't arguing, only watching as the book he needed came closer, his form stooping at a seemingly impossible angle in order to retrieve it- fingers grappling with the thing as he tried to rearrange everything he was holding so he could reach the quill he'd set aside, fumbling about in an absolute mess until he could drop the book on the table and add all of three or four words in the upmost corner with the word wormwood underlined several times over just beneath it. “You NEED food, you look nearly gray, and those fumes must be toxic...what IS it?” Food? His stomach did grumble at the mention, a weak pathetic thing- he'd gone without longer, abstained due to little money or the punishment that his father had decided to meat out upon him. Food was only a necessity to a point, you could learn to do without when forced. He was always off in coloring so that was hardly concerning as well but the questioning of his work had him straightening again, waving a hand towards the concoction. “A variation of the drought of death. Nothing nearly so dramatic you see, it's been layered precisely to the point of removing the actual cease to bodily function. Although I haven't quite figured out how to enable the drinker to lose consciousness with it as well.” It was the reason he was in here as long as he was, having only himself to test the potion out on, laying prostrate on the floor and waiting for his eyeballs to stop rolling in the sockets long enough for the small does he'd taken to wear off. “I don't want it to be like the sleeping drought.” Another vague movement of his hands as he frowned down at the thick liquid. “Just enough to make the subject alive, if barely. Long enough to transport.” Or whatever it was that it was needed for.

you come along because i love your face ,
and i'll admire your expensive taste
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tagged LUCIEN words stuff  notes WELL HELL status FINISHED template nixxy of CAUTION 2.0

[Lucien Maddock]

Days had passed and the bed positioned next to his had remained empty. No sign of the boy. Oh, Lucien had a very good idea of exactly where he must be, knew beyond a shadow of a doubt really. Same place as usual, the only place he could get away with being holed up in for this long without being detected otherwise. He had no doubts that he was the only one in this castle that had even noticed that he was missing. That was fine by him. He had gathered clean robes and tucked them neatly under his arm, raided the contents of Silas' trunk until he was satisfied, and set off during his free period. It didn't take long, stepping through the wards on the door to limit the stink into one place, and Merlin what a stink it was. Not even the body in question but the cauldron that he was pouring over. He could feel his stomach roiling at the sight of it, of the gasses raising from the boiling surface and let himself lean against the door jamb. It was always something wonderful, watching him work the way he did. Even if he let himself become a little too absorbed with what he was doing, it was fascinating to see him in action. Not even thinking, not really, just impulsively altering and working, always making those notes of his. Even when he spun, Lucien didn't take offense to not just knowing that he was around. Most people felt it whenever he entered a space, and definitely felt it whenever he had his attention on them singularly. Not Silas, not with a cauldron at his front. An easy, knowing smile moved over his handsome features, pulling the robes from under his arm and separating the trousers from the shirt, casting the folded, clean robe aside to the ground and moving into the room, pausing only to peer into the thick, simmering surface of whatever it was he was doing, before tossing the garments at him. “That smells worse than you do,”

“Yes, like dung beetles and rotting wood?” He almost seemed normal in moments like this, so excited over the prospect of his work turning out right, and it shouldn't have entertained him as much as it did, and yet he was nodding along anyway “Resting in soured milk, yes. It's foul.” and it absolutely was for a man who bathed in rose scented water nearly all of his life. “No, no, “I don't think-” It was particularly satisfying to see his words cut off by the fabric in his face, even as he was shifting it was funny to see. Somebody normally so very serious, as diverted as he was. He knew where Silas was looking and he almost gave in, but the clothes that he had offered were being put to the side. And his own eyes were rolling. “I just need another half day.” “You NEED a shower,” he stepped to the side, kicking the book he was blocking in the direction of the man in front of him “You NEED food, you look nearly gray, and those fumes,” he shook his head “must be toxic...what IS it?”

He was scrambling about like a man possessed, maybe he was. It was a fitting enough word he supposed, giving his manic obsession. But it wasn't really obsession was it, hit sort of genius. The book passed between such dirty hands and scribbling, the feather of the quill once white, now inky black and matted, missing it's elegance in many places. “A variation of the drought of death. Nothing nearly so dramatic you see, it's been layered precisely to the point of removing the actual cease to bodily function. Although I haven't quite figured out how to enable the drinker to lose consciousness with it as well.” Interesting. If it worked, he could imagine quite a few people who would be more than happy to pay for such a thing as that. Not to mention, if he understood correctly, the subject would still be alive whenever that happened. “I don't want it to be like the sleeping drought. Just enough to make the subject alive, if barely. Long enough to transport.” Lucien' brow knit, squatting down angled between the boy and the cauldron as he watched the change in his facial expressions. “Transporting to where?” he teased lightly, eyes never wavering “Such a wicked mind...”

---

Tagged: Silas
Words: Some
Wearing: more uniforms. Sweater.
Timing: fourth year, obviously.

[Silas Prince]

stop there and let me correct it ,

i wanna live a life from a new perspective

“Transporting to where?” That wasn't- but that wasn't the intent of it, even if he didn't pause to say as much, the slight curve of his lips the only acknowledgment he could give to the boy who usually had all of his attention as he passed the quill back through his hands to the table, moving so he could find the correct instrument to stir the mass inside of the black pot with. “Such a wicked mind...” It might have given him pause, if Lucien hadn't said such things before, if he didn't understand that what would be insult out of another's mouth was as like to praise as he would ever get from this one. “If I could just...” His eyebrows knitted in a mixture of frustration and confusion, face pulling with the discontented emotions as the mixture bubbled a light froth against the instrument that had been inserted. It wasn't difficult, for him to juggle the two such present things in his life this way, not as it might have been had another been asking questions mid such a consuming project. There had been enough times that Lucien’s questions had led to him finding the answer he'd taken so long in acquiring with his own mind, talking aloud to him and only him seemed to help- made the jumbled mass of ingredients and measures in his head calm down enough for him to pluck out the one necessary to complete the project. His eyes fell to the boy in question, head tilting slightly as something dawned on his features, stretched the odd shaped plains even in their filthy state, until he seemed like he was near beaming. “Human.. It needs to be able to identify the mass with which it is working.” Almost to himself mumbling as he switched out the hand stirring the mixture in order to grab back up his quill and make a slight notation- half unfinished due to the lack of testing. His own greasy hair hung there, fingers resting beside it a moment before falling just as his eyes, though they rested on golden hair he would never presume to touch without express leave to do so. “It needs to be able to adjust to that which it is to be used on, I just need a human sample for it to read-” Still half to himself though it was loud enough for Lucien to follow, one of the few that despite the odd way he began to speak when in his own world always seemed to find a way to follow. “If I could-” hesitation, as if he wasn't sure it was right to be asking, but given that his very presence had inspired the idea it seemed fitting. And it was Lucien and far more likely to work using him given the difference in specimen. “I need hair, and I think yours is far more fitting.”


“Like Polyjuice?” He hadn't considered that implication actually, it would make sense if it weren't for the fact that with the polyjuice you needed a part of the actual subject you were planning to imitate whereas he thought- and thought was relative wasn't it because he could always be wrong, doubtful, but still a possibility- that this particular potion just needed to be able to understand the basic physical makeup of the human body. “Cleaner,” His nod was distracted, fingers already rubbing against the cleanest patch of his robe he could find in order to try and rid them of the buildup he knew must rest there from the last few days of work- scrubbing vigorously before he allowed his hand to approach the proffered locks, fingers sliding once over them from the root of the follicles halfway down before he caught himself and moved the hand back up, twisting a strand around his fingers and pulling just slightly, wincing as it parted from his scalp. “That too,” he muttered, it was after all- it was just all around more fitting. “Something like that. You know how polyjuice needs to be able to replicate the exact strand of DNA found within the sample provided?” Questioning to the side as he held the small silver strand above the pot with bated breath- pausing everything as he dropped it and watched the orange goo surround it- no reaction. His shoulders slumped slightly, lips pulling to the side. “I had thought that maybe the substance just required the basic gen--” His voice caught in his throat as the liquid within the cauldron began to shift, two large bubbles rising to almost cover the surface before melting back down into the suddenly much lighter, much less dense matter. The light to his face shifted just as dramatically, lips twisting up into the largest grin they could manage- cheeks nearly bursting with the effect that it created. He didn't smile much, never had much reason, and one couldn't say it made the boy any prettier, the way it put his yellowing teeth on display or the way that it twisted his already mismatched features- but something about it seemed to lighten him, as if it shone from within him with wholly unexpected joy. Lucien's hair had fixed it, transported the matter needed to complete the formula.

It was perfect, the way the potion just started to simmer within the pot, despite the fact that Silas had extinguished the flame beneath it- it was reacting just as Silas had thought it ought to the first few times, only more. The putrid smell had seemed to vanish along with the first bubble that had risen to the surface, expanded and soaked up every scent that had rested within the mix. Scentless. The ladle moved through the liquid, the difference in consistency than he had achieved or even expected before- much more liquid than the tar he'd been stirring around before. “Well, let's see then” His face, still beaming, turned suddenly to Lucien in response, lips stretching even wider at the vial being handed to him, twisting it up within his fingers and looking down at it, robes held at the ready to wipe it off but then- the job had already been done. Another large smile, he felt- light, buoyant. “Thank you.” His shoulders rolling in order to shake one side of his robes off of his arms, switching the vial between hands to repeat the process with the opposite. Last time he'd taken a full vial, hours of laying on the floor, which he was sure Lucien wouldn't stick around for- or would grow tired of waiting on the effects to wear off. Either way, Robes falling in a unkempt mess upon the floor around his ankles as he lent forward again, transferring the potion from ladle to vial before stepping back from the cauldron entirely, looking to Lucien as he sat down in a mass of gangly limbs and protruding elbows- there would be no falling this time- at least not at so great a distance. “I don't know the correlation between potency and lasting effects.” Yet, he hadn't had time to experiment with it yet, especially not now that it seemed he might have gotten it correct. His legs crossed, knees jutting out to either side of him as he allowed the top of the vial to touch his outstretched tongue, rather surprised that it was all he tasted at all, the glass filament ar-- the boy's body sank back rather suddenly, eyes rolling up in his head as he fell.

you come along because i love your face ,
and i'll admire your expensive taste
- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

tagged LUCIEN words stuff  notes WELL HELL status FINISHED template nixxy of CAUTION 2.0

[Lucien Maddock]

“Human.. It needs to be able to identify the mass with which it is working.” Ah yes, he could see where this was going, with the sly glances that he was casting in his direction. He couldn't help the smirk, arrogant and pleased that he was of course the very first thought in the matter. “It needs to be able to adjust to that which it is to be used on, I just need a human sample for it to read-” He made no effort to help, not at first, just watching and waiting to see if he was going to be formally asked, which of course he wasn't, but he could wait to see. “Like Polyjuice?” it felt so stupid, to even bother asking, but he was curious. Why would it even make a difference? “If I could-” Oh? That was interesting, it must have been really important to him, or he must have been really close to a break through....he hadn't asked Lucien for nearly anything ever. “I need hair, and I think yours is far more fitting.” His smile faded away but not because he wasn't amused, but for something he couldn't quite understand, didn't know if he wanted to give it name. “Cleaner,” but even as he spoke, he was leaning his head toward the other boy, perfect platinum blonde locks shifting as he did.

It was respectful, the wiping of his fingers. Not that they were going to come clean, he knew that. He knew there was going to be a dark spot on his otherwise perfect hair that was going to have to be tended to. He couldn't very well walk around the castle with it showing, despite how tall he was he couldn't risk it. Silas wiping away at his robes like there was a single clean patch left was almost bemusing, and it wasn't a curtsey that was afforded many, he was sure. Normally, the greasy man just didn't care. He was watching from the tops of his eyes through the short curtain just falling past his brows, watching the man work. He didn't flinch whenever the hair was separated from him, even if it was irritating. He was just surprised that more hadn't been taken. “Something like that. You know how polyjuice needs to be able to replicate the exact strand of DNA found within the sample provided?” Silas was one of the only ones who in fact, did know, that Lucien would know the answer to that question. It was only because they were away from prying eyes, away from a classroom occupied by some educational structure that he would bother to answer, even if the nod was minute as he was lifting his head back up, long elegant fingers brushing the strands effortlessly back into perfect position. He wasn't watching the potion like Silas was, he was watching the man himself. The defeat would mean longer until he showered. Longer stuck away in this room, longer from the dorms....longer from him. “I had thought that maybe the substance just required the basic gen--” But he was moving again, leaning over the cauldron and Lucien couldn't help himself, diverting his gaze and leaning toward the goo, and then he was beaming. Such a grotesque gesture on that misfortuned face and yet, there was no denying it's attractiveness. So ugly so as to be beautiful, unique. One of a kind. Silas could never be replicated. Lucien didn't smile in return, rather he watched, almost in awestruck silence as the joy of a successful potion could make him, and only while Silas was preoccupied, the moment he looked to Lucien, he began rolling up his sleeves to the elbows, and phishing a vial from the floor...he considered wiping it with Silas; robes, but thought better of it and used his own before removing them and folding them on the floor beside him, and holding the vial to Silas, “Well, let's see then”

He had been expecting Silas to fill the vial and hand it back, he would have cleaned the thing either way because he had standards, but he hadn't been expecting Silas to hold onto it, much less to take it himself. Perhaps it wasn't actually much like Polyjuice whatsoever. Maybe it was just whatever substance was clinging to the fibers of Silas' own hair that wasn't working, or something of the sort. He was pleased, that once his hair was added, that horrible stink went away and it became almost pleasant to look at, an opulent orange rather than that of a pylon. “I don't know the correlation between potency and lasting effects.” He didn't even bother to fold the robes as a pillow before hastily taking the thing and falling backward almost instantly, which, he was assuming, was the point in the first place. Rolling his eyes he removed the vial from his hands and scooted over, grasping his ankles and repositioning him until his legs were straight out and he was laying flat, he didn't need weird aches on top of everything else. He replaced his own body where it had been, picking up the book that Silas had been writing it, and began to leaf through the pages, one at a time to catch up on just what he was supposed to be expecting here, what sort of after effects would be normal and which ones weren't, and after about an hour had passed, he flipped to the next clean page, and began to take notes of his own, adding in what Silas was doing, the way his eyes seemed to roll back into his head and stay there, hardly moving...he just had to trust in the potion, trust in the boys mind that he would wake again.

---

Tagged: Silas
Words: Some
Wearing: more uniforms. Sweater.
Timing: fourth year, obviously.

[Silas Prince]

stop there and let me correct it ,

i wanna live a life from a new perspective

“Transporting to where?” It was like fighting through layers and layers of sheets to get back to the proper state of consciousness, the very first thought that he needed to know just how long he'd been out. Well maybe not the very first, it did take him a good amount of time to remember why it was that he felt as if he'd been hit upside his head by a sledgehammer. He hadn't felt anything going down though, instantaneous, and already his fingers were itching to make note of that. He could feel his thought process slowly wakening, feel every change, no matter how miniscule, and was fighting to keep them fresh in his mind so that he could properly notate the entire experience. He didn't know just how long it took him to go from fighting to opening his lids to actually having to close them against what had seemed dim lighting before all had been removed from him for some length of time. Another rolling flicker and he was staring at the ceiling, joints flexing, somewhat surprised to find he was in a different position from that which he had fallen into. The question of whether or not he'd spasmed or some other less than savory reflection upon the potion he'd ingested was answered fairly quickly though, given the rigid set to his limbs and the way they were situated. He'd been sat out then. His eyebrows knitted slightly as he fought to sit up, limbs almost tangling in one another as he twisted up into a seated position. “How long was I out?” His spindly fingers came to press into his temple, rough cast to his voice almost as if he'd been sleeping for days. Which would be.. worrisome.

Silas didn't question the book being turned to him, immediately scooting forward, pushing his hands against the floor until he could feel the boy in front of him and read the book and what had been written in it. It was the only other handwriting to be found in any of his journals or textbooks, so dissimilar to his own and yet he always managed to get across the exact points the Silas needed to have been written. “Seven and a half hours,” His lips twisted, clearly displeased with the answer. He hadn't swallowed any more than a pinprick, which meant that either he would have to try and coax the potion into another, more easily managed form, or find a way to dilute it. Neither of which was the ideal method to deal with disbursement in his mind, but he would figure it out. As it was his eyes were scanning the text in front of him, capturing it within his memory with short glances as he read over what changes Lucien had reported. All of which seemed to be the ideological purpose that he'd first concocted when beginning this experiment in the first place. Except for the quantity to time ratio that seemed to be out of whack, but then maybe that could have been because he used Lucien's hair and their bodies had such different builds and physiology. His arm snaked forward, taking up the quill Lucien had been using to add several notations of his own scrawled hurriedly beneath the lines, small in the margins as he could possibly make it before flipping to the next page and continuing with the process. It made it more of an imposition if you needed the specific subjects hair, but he was sure that it could easily just equate to a need for one of similar size, stature, and/or metabolism. If metabolism really did have anything to do with it- that posed a whole different set of questions. The feather tapped against his lips as he read over the signs of twitching Lucien had reported, underlining a few sections for further questioning later before he unbent his form- unsurprised to find that he had slumped over the journal the other boy was holding out to him, nose scant centimeters away from the pages as he read and wrote in equal measure. “I'm sorry-” the apology may have sounded without thought, mumbled between his lips as it was as he continued writing, but it was well meant, Silas had stopped apologizing well before his first year was up- the boy before him was probably one of the few who would ever hear the words from him at all, least of all as honest as these were. “I didn't expect for that to lay me low for such a long period given the amount ingested.” He had truthfully been hoping for a few minutes- but again, that would require further testing and was as of yet all speculation.

The words of protest were on his lips, form sitting straighter and black eyes flashing up to the blue pair in front of him, eyebrows knitting and lips parting as if to argue the point- he still needed to finish a few more notations at the very least, just because he'd read it once didn't mean he couldn't add more to it giv-- “I'm a rather powerful substance.” But the other boys words, meant in jest he was sure, forced his lips back together, twin thin lines of equal shock and embarrassment. He hadn't meant it in any way, and in regards to potions the words were merely a more humorous echo of what he himself had been thinking. The way it was said only seemed to force the realization on him that he had ingested Lucien. Lucien Maddock. The Maddock heir. There was no world where that should have been okay, where it would be acceptable. And yet Lucien had allowed him to do so, had done so without questioning or requiring anything in return. The phantom heat that pulsed up his neck and into the caverns of his hollowing cheeks made no logical sense, but it was there all the same, coloring the swallow skin and swallowing him whole. “Yes well.” The clearing of his throat as if there was nothing odd about the tumultuous feelings tearing through him at all. Lucien Maddock was the Maddock heir. He was also the first kid from Hogwarts, the first from either his or another house, who had showed him kindness. The first who had shown any interest in what it was that he could do regarding potions or magic in general. “I think,” he cleared his throat again, looking down to the book to keep from having to look into the slated icy eyes, “that would have to do with the differing biological makeup of the two of our bodies.” Another strange throat clearing as his nostrils flared at his own phrasing. “Given that I used your uh, hair.”

you come along because i love your face ,
and i'll admire your expensive taste
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tagged LUCIEN words stuff  notes WELL HELL status FINISHED template nixxy of CAUTION 2.0

[Lucien Maddock]

Lucien had briefly considered taking a nap, but had instead finished his notes and left to gather some food, something that had been accomplished and nearly consumed apart from the wrapped up bits left for his friend. That, and his hair had been scrubbed once more, returned to his perfectly presentable physical state. He wouldn't have bothered yet, if it weren't for the fact that Silas had been out for so very long, he had been pouring over the boys notes once more whenever he finally started to move once more. Coming to slowly, fingers flexing and toes twitching, little by little until he was sitting up a little better, at least those bags under his eyes seemed to have faded quite a bit. He needed the rest, and from the looks of It, it had been a rather deep one. “How long was I out?” Casually, he flipped back to the pages that he had been writing in and turned the book to face him, leaning his toned torso in that direction, “Seven and a half hours,” the sun had long since set in the sky, and the potion looked just as it had before he had passed out, which was fortunate since he didn't have the faintest clue as to what to do with it otherwise.

It was nothing. Nothing damnit. His fingers only hardly brushed over his as the quill was taken from him. Nothing important had happened that was all. His heart wasn't racing. His pulse was normal. Pain and simple. The apology was almost missed, and certainly wasn't commented on, neither was the thank you that he had uttered earlier. Those words would echo in his head later, he knew that they would given how rare he heard them. From anybody, let alone him and of course how well meant they were, was something else entirely. He Sat there, still and holding the book that was being written in with steady hands, waiting and watching. He was rarely a patient man but this was just one of those times. “I didn't expect for that to lay me low for such a long period given the amount ingested.” Even though he was still making small notes, Lucien almost laughed, pulling the book back toward his own body, forcing it away from he who wanted to keep pouring into it. “I'm a rather powerful substance.”

“Yes well.” Well nothing. He was powerful. He wasn't something to be brushed past lightly as Silas was trying to do. The boy handled his emotions rather oddly, and that was fine, Lucien enjoyed a puzzle as much as the next fellow. Enigma. Though, the oddly peachy coloring taking over his face now, that was something that he never would have expected. That gray/green palate that comprised his skin almost seemed normal in this dim lighting...was he blushing? Was that what this was? “I think,” Normally, that was a given. Not for everybody in this school, but for him. Another compliment dying on the tongue that was currently curling inside of the side of his cheek, just between his teeth and flesh, watching. “that would have to do with the differing biological makeup of the two of our bodies.” Yes, they were very different weren't they. He could spend hours devoted to taking down a list of every account in which they were different, Silas was dirt to his polished silver. Clearly they both knew that. It didn't dignify a response. “Given that I used your uh, hair.” His tongue pushed further into the inside of his cheek and he snapped the book in his hand closed with enough force to stir up a cloud of dust. Not that it would linger long in this room, it would sink into the floor and cling to that already greasy hair in front of him, no doubt. “And to think, what might happen should you use something....else”

Blinking. Unsure, he didn't understand, not really. Or if he did, he was doing an excellent job of playing ignorant. At least he was so bold as to meet his eyes. Lucien shifted, his feet crossing at the ankles as he looked over to the boy next to him, still crouching awkwardly with that shirt that was hanging from his frame, in need of washing and ironing and yet, it fit him...somehow. He hadn't felt the need to push Silas, because he tended to make the moves on his own, letting Lucien inside without having to worm his way in, he didn't need the use of his silver tongue, Silas was too eager for his attentions, it would have been a waste. Didn't mean that now that he actually was, it way any less amusing however. “Flesh uh,” Dear boy, he had heard the moans in his sleep, whispered so softly that even if they were memory, he was repressing it. He wasn't so innocent. Not in this way. “disintegrates in potions with the acidity that this one possesses.” He nodded, slowly, dragging the gesture out, making a point of only looking at Silas whenever he said something, suggestive, and peering at his other features until then, examining. “So not flesh...” his eyes rolled from Silas' clavicle up his neck and to his eyes once more “What would you suggest?”

---

Tagged: Silas
Words: Some
Wearing: more uniforms. Sweater.
Timing: fourth year, obviously.

[/quote]

[Silas Prince]

stop there and let me correct it ,

i wanna live a life from a new perspective

The book being slammed shut had Silas blinking, fighting the particles that worked their way under his lids and onto the film protecting his irises. It also removed his ability to pretend he was focusing on something else, slow blink of his lids as he shifted his chin, staring at the point between Lucien's eyes for half a moment before he could acclimate himself enough to blink his way to the blue. “And to think, what might happen should you use something....else” that was a different tone of voice entirely and he wasn't quite sure what he was supposed to take from it, only that he doubted very much what he was taking was the right response. So he blinked. And felt the pallor of his skin shift to no doubt an even more unusual color as he lifted both chin and brows trying to appear as if he was completely unaffected by the strange turn their conversation had taken. If he were going to prove to Lucien that his faith in him was well founded, that he hadn't made a mistake by taking Silas under his wing so to speak, then he would have to prove he could keep up with the other boy. “Flesh uh,” his tongue grazed his lower lip, smoothing along the thin surface of skin before shrugging, “disintegrates in potions with the acidity that this one possesses.” because he had to have been referring to flesh or nail bits or something of the like, and not the innuendo that seemed to have been implied to Severus' own ears.

He had seen Lucien use his gifts on others, he was good at it, and why should he not be? He was born of the right blood and with the right amount of tutelage in the sorts of games they played to get away with it even without his even more naturally talented attributes helping the matter along. He had considered trying it himself, he'd witnessed it often enough- he was sure more than one occasion had been meant for him to see as well- introducing him into the world that he'd just begun to learn. “So not flesh... What would you suggest?” The only issue with knowing Lucien so well was knowing that there was no one right answer to fall back on when he began a game such as the one he had just set up. It depended on what he wanted to hear and the boy himself could keep such a straight face throughout it as to not give Silas any indication until it was too late. And he would continue to blame the way his throat swallowed thickly on that. “I don't think there is any part of you that could produce anything less than perfection.” More serious than it should have been, the way his blush receded somewhat with the line leaving his lips along with the slow blink. It needn't have meant anything beyond what he was saying, was nothing so out of the ordinary from what had been said before today even. Lucius was the model of pure blood perfection there was nothing shocking in saying so. Only the line didn't feel similar to any he had dared voice before, no matter how like in sentence structure or point it may have been.


“Yes.” Displeased, as if Severus wasn't supposed to be watching his tongue and should have come back with something more, but Lucien was not giving him the more that he needed to verbalize or even really what more it was that was necessary. Which meant that he was expecting Silas to find it on his own. “You're the potions master,” So very rarely, oh so very rarely was that acknowledged even by those older students he tutored, by those students that he spent countless hours with to make sure that they could at least semi-adequately perform a basic brew in order to pass their way through this education system. “Prince,” But it was less the acknowledgment and so much more the name used that had Silas visibly flinching, his body more than slightly confused by the bolstering effect it seemed to have on his system. “Yes.” His turn for a one word answer as his eyes drifted to the floor momentarily, coming back up from beneath his hooded lids to look questioningly to the blonde in front of him. His turn to take a fact given him and ignore whatever compliments may have been lurking behind it. “And you are Lucien.” As if by his name alone, and not his surname, he commanded something else entirely.

you come along because i love your face ,
and i'll admire your expensive taste
- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

tagged LUCIEN words stuff  notes WELL HELL status FINISHED template nixxy of CAUTION 2.0

[Lucien Maddock]

“I don't think there is any part of you that could produce anything less than perfection.” It was times like this he almost wished it were an actual, physical game. He could have thrown cards or knuts, instead he fought the urge to roll his eyes. This was not the hour for placating. This wasn't a game of what he wanted to hear and if it was, that wasn't it. He didn't twitch though the fingers on his hand were rapidly growing impatient. They wanted to move. They wanted to act, to offer strikes against a total number of guesses but Silas wasn't stupid. He wasn't some little nymph he had lured away to amuse him with her coy like pseudo-intelligence. This was real smarts, a real, working, functioning brain and it was his to toy with, his to obtain but it needed to be given over willingly. Silas was not to be owned. “Yes.” He put bluntly Of course that was the truth. Of course he was perfection, but his tone clearly punctuated that this wasn't a matter of coy answers of ego boosting. “You're the potions master,” he paused, coming to rest the on the title that Silas signed his books with, weighting it on his tongue, “Prince,”

“And you are Lucien.” It was his turn to blink now, his turn to stare stupefied for even the slightest moment. He was quick on his feet, so to speak, but that, with the lack of his family name that was so important, he had been bred to BE his family name, and all that came with it, even if he found navigating the waters to be somewhat more easy than some of the others around him, it was irrelevant, he was being acknowledged for who HE was and not his father and those before him. Not for the quality of his blood, so rich it must run a different shade than all of those around him, and now he felt the mood shifting, but no less enticing, not even for a second. “And you could use it,” he didn't blink, leaning forward, just off of the wall, it was hardly the liquid he had been proferring, but there was still time for that later...his hand extending, wrist facing upward now that the book had been discarded.

He would give drops, he couldn't afford to open a vein fully but if he understood, he was offering something so vitally important to this man, he could taste of the purest blood and with permission. Even if only for a moment, even if it was only symbolic and nothing more, he didn't flinch, didn't balk at what exactly he was offering. “I wouldn't have to.” Such an important mind, such an important person with imperfect packaging. He was important, there was no denying that. Lucien held his gaze, pulling those black orbs into his own steel blue ones. The fingertips just starting to lay in his own and it was nearly like their first contact, his fingers curling not out of impulse of want, hooking those dirty phalanges tightly within his own, the pads of their fingers touching, his thumb curling to run over and beside of the pinkie finger, nearly locking his hand to his own, keeping them there with a subtle nod, but it might as well have been a flashing sign as far as he was concerned, his arm pulling his hand, in consequence the hand he was in all effects holding just an inch closer to his body, his forearm lowering to rest on his crossed leg.

It took nearly every part of him to fight impulse, to keep his face neutral whenever Silas kissed the inside of his wrist. So seem impassive, like it was common place whenever it was anything but. “You aren't using me.” What a preposterous ideal. Silas wasn't accusing him, he could tell by the inflections of his voice. There was no way he would actually think that, or at least not anymore. Most people tended to think that he was using them. IN one form or another, and usually, they would be right. “No,” he admitted softly, he should be. Silas had all of the characteristics of a man too hungry for approval, using him would be childsplay. He knew that, and yet, that wasn't what he was doing. Had never been. He could tell it was a fairly big admittance. On the boys part given how he was now refusing to meet his eyes, and he couldn't help it. It was almost amusing how ready he was just to crawl right back up inside of himself at the slightest notice. Like a hermit crab. He let his fingers unfurl just enough to run softly against the impossibly soft skin of his wrist, and up his arm until he could reach no further, and then quicker, his hand flipped the pair of theirs and gripped Silas' arm just under the elbow and pulled, pulled him him closer, his legs never moving and kept pulling until Silas was situated on his lap, silently.

Lucien wasn't particularly forward, not usually. He just pushed, and prodded until he got the results that he wanted. Getting people to do what he wanted had always come very easy to him. He didn't really like having to make moves, but he was of course willing to make exceptions. He could feel the body heat spreading across his lap, and the smell. He certainly couldn't ignore that, could feel the contaminants spreading onto his person and yet his face remains impassive. The lanky boy just staring back at him. He could do anything, he knew he could. Putty.

---

Tagged: Silas
Words: Some
Wearing: more uniforms. Sweater.
Timing: fourth year, obviously.

[Silas Prince]

stop there and let me correct it ,

i wanna live a life from a new perspective

“And you could use it,” There were any number of ways that Silas could take that and had it not felt so vitally important to answer him now he may have taken his time and weighted those against one another, tried to read into what exactly it was that Lucius was or wasn't offering. His palm was up, facing the ceiling, those fingers slightly curled and it was with little hesitation that Silas' own arm extended, his hand copying the motion but flipped, his palm facing the other boys as he brought their palms to almost touching, hovering above that space and staring at it before looking up at the other boy, his face solemn. “I wouldn't have to.” He wasn't even sure himself what he was trying to convey with that, not saying that he wouldn't need Lucius' name or influence in the slightest, only that what he had been given was more than he could have expected to be offered ever in his life. It wasn't until he could be sure that the other boy hadn't taken the words as the slight they were not intended as that he curled his fingers down, pointing three to press into the fleshy middle of the opposite palm- fingertips pressing up against the curved raise of the hand.

What was being offered was much more than any of the passing innuendos or offers that lined the edges of the words their conversation contained and Severus understood that, at least he felt like he did even if he did know that he could just as easily be reading into any number of things as well, and even still this felt like more... Which couldn't be packaged up into any nice little sentence structure to fit more easily inside of his head like he tended to do with things that couldn't be viewed objectively. This felt like more than just the offering of a substance that shouldn't have been offered in the first place and that made him both uncomfortable and … curious. Like he was expanding inside of his own skin. Lucius was his first and only real friend inside of these halls outside of Daisy- and unlike Daisy he always seemed to understand that Silas wasn't acting the way that he did consciously. Valued him and made him feel like he was worth more than any of the derogatory words thrown at him in random intervals throughout the day. Worth more than the raised voices that he was presented with both in and outside of the castle. That he was his own person, and that was irreplaceable. Giving him any more than that seemed almost preposterous. But it was what he was doing, here in this room with his fingers wrapped around his own. Silas' eyes remained steadily upon the pair in front of his own, despite the heat still rushing beneath his skin, his own black orbs growing slowly more certain. He didn't presume to move Lucius' hand on his own, pull it back closer to his own body- it instead contorted, bent over double so that he could twist his neck, staring at the joint of their hands for a moment before tilting his chin, lips pressing into the inside of his friend's wrist briefly before pulling back entirely, re-straightening in a single movement with a short nod. “You aren't using me.” It hadn't been a question, even if it should have been, even if there would always be a voice in the back of Severus' head that stated that he must be- he could use his talents, Lucien would make any number of uses of those, but he would never use Silas himself. And that was what made it different. He could accept that. It didn't need to be so expressly stated, because it wasn't Silas denying him the right to do so, it was Silas acknowledging that he knew that wasn't what was happening. His oiled locks slipped further onto his forehead as his head moved to the side, looking up from the contemplation of their hands before the ruddy coloring beneath his skin seemed to grow even deeper. His own fingers twitched, tightening imperceptibly as some sort of new growth seemed to blossom within his chest, pushing something to the side slightly and expanding within him.

Silas didn't have to do much but allow his body to be pulled, offer no resistance as his body was lifted from the floor he sat on and replaced with Lucius' legs. It should have been awkward or weird, and there was some small part of him that still identified it as such- sitting on another male, especially this particular male, in such a familiar way. Yet, there was a sense of satisfactory propriety about it. Right. Silas' body relaxed slowly into the form beneath and around his, tilting his head so that he could look up at him. Scrutinizing the features that he found. Angular, pure blooded- he embodied everything that his blood said he ought. And yet here he was, offering so much more than just a drop of that blood to Silas. Offering without mentioning future payment or anything of the sort. It was a dangerous line he was walking, the amount he was putting forth for someone with so much lesser blood and standing- no standing at all. Lucius should have pushed him away or gone back to what it was he was doing before he'd come to find Silas down here in the abandoned room. He risked much, even if it didn't seem like it now- he was a power in this school in and of himself. Due to his name. Due to what all he'd already acquired in and of himself, he found power easily. Collected it as others might items.

The silence passed for longer than should have been comfortable- indeed gathered tension at the base of his neck due to just how much time elapsed between the strange series of movements to where they were now- but his lips remained shut, mind avidly retracing the steps that had brought them here, both before this day and since the other boy had walked into the door in order to retrieve him. His lips opened slowly, tongue tracing the one word that lifted off of it and into the space between them before he allowed it to vocalize. “Okay.” He felt like he were underlying his agreement that he hadn’t voiced as explicitly before- signing the dotted line to a contract that he hadn’t read and knew nothing about but that was fine. Contracts weren’t his specialty, reading between lines and finding all of the faults in an ink ridden paper wasn’t his strong suit- but his companion was well versed in all of that. Would have to have been for such a long amount of time, far outreaching their making acquaintance with one another. Okay. Because it would be okay, because he was signing that contract based off of the one line that he’d uttered earlier. He wasn’t being used. And that made all the difference.

you come along because i love your face ,
and i'll admire your expensive taste
- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

tagged LUCIEN words stuff  notes WELL HELL status FINISHED template nixxy of CAUTION 2.0

[Lucien Maddock]

“You aren't using me.” It wasn't a question. He knew by the tone, though to anybody else it would have been. Would have been all too easy to laugh, to shake it off like it was nothing but...he couldn't have even if he wanted to. He half shook his head, slowly, “No,” he wasn't using him. They both knew that he could have. Easily. He was good at it. Used just about everybody else in his life. This was shifting, he could feel it in the air and oddly, he wanted it to. Silas' talents had always been at his disposal, and he'd never asked for anything in return. Another strange trait, but accepted. Lucien tried...though he would never admit it, tried to further the boys genius. Not detract or make fun of it. Helped. He didn't bother to take the time to help many people. Still, the boy allowed himself to be pulled in all of his disgusting glory. Everything about this boy repulsed Lucien...should have at least. The dirty hair, the pungent body odor and oily skin. The way his clothing never really seemed to be clean, his utter lack of ability to take care of himself even on a basic level. Simple things like feeding himself or remembering to bathe...he was so consumed within his own head at all times. He should have been the last person to find anything redeemable about this boy at all. Wasn't even morally clean enough to be the judge of anything moral anyway. Still...his brain beckoned to him. He intrigued Lucien. Deeply. Intimately.

Perhaps that was why he did it, pulled him forward, really he didn't know. His arms had moved on their own. He allowed Silas to look at him, he didn't tolerate the gaze of others lightly. He only wanted those who he thought worthy to look upon his face, most of all directly, even more than that, this close. He was sure that half the school claimed to have slept with him but really, he'd only taken a small handful of lovers in his life. He was highly selective. The fact that he was near holding eye contact with somebody so...disgusting and feeling no need to look away, was something very strange to him. He could feel it, ticking away in his head, attempting to figure it out like it was some puzzle to be solved. Like if he could just find that one missing piece, he would be over it. Silence was filling the space between them, surrounding them and expanding. He wasn't sure how else to explain it, even as it should have been uncomfortable. Should have been uncomfortable, the weight on his legs growing...but it wasn't. His fingers running along the inside of Silas' palm, running over the crease of his life line. “Okay.” He hadn't asked a question. Though, he knew what Silas was answering anyway. His eyes watching those mud brown pair atop him carefully.

Lucien's lip twitched. Then he moved.

His hand flipped, grabbing Silas' wrist and pulling him downward, the other going to clamp to the back of the boy's oily hair covered neck and pulled him downward, his chin lifting to angle himself properly against the lips he was bringing down toward his own and he hadn't even bothered to think about it. He's said okay and that was all he could see. More force than he was used to using with anybody, and he didn't think he had so much as really touched Silas, before now.

---

Tagged: Silas
Words: Some
Wearing: more uniforms. Sweater.
Timing: fourth year, obviously.

[Silas Prince]

stop there and let me correct it ,

i wanna live a life from a new perspective

He could feel himself being watched, was well aware of the assessment behind the gaze and what his one word acknowledgment would mean. Perhaps not the full extent- but the shifting in the air, this subtle transition, both physical and otherwise- hung in the air, surrounded the both of them until he felt pressed to pull the very air into his lungs. Felt the underlying currents beneath their connected gaze and the strangeness of it all, settled deep into him, connected in a way that he found so difficult to do with most people. Certainly none that walked the halls understood him on this level, or agreed to handle him with the same charge within their actions. Okay. One word despite the fact that he was well aware, that they were both well aware, that he was suitably versed enough to have lengthened his reply, asked for conditions- anything but the blind agreement he had come to seemingly so easily. Months, no years, pressed behind his decision- shaped the answer before it fled his lips. He was not, by any means, resolving upon that conclusion without the due forethought and considered consequences- no matter how it may have seemed to any that were not explicitly privy to his thought process and everything that he heaped upon it. His gaze, at some point, had drifted down to the point of Lucien’s chin- rested there as he gathered the rest of the rambling within his own brain, solidified the decision that he’d already spoken and tied the loose threads that remained trailing it within his mind, putting them away more neatly in with the rest of his mental rejoinders. It was with a slow deliberation, mahogany flashing, that he lifted it- brought his gaze more centered to the blue eyes in front of him, his expression suddenly much more concentrated. Present. Intense. He couldn’t see the muscles lining his cheeks grow taut, couldn’t see the ball just beneath his jaw pop with the tick that presided with the tensing of said muscle- he could feel it though. Feel the strange, foreign, consuming heat that seized his being as he did so- flesh prickling as the other boy’s lips moved- twitched. As if he were amused or- no, that wasn’t the expression covering his face, wasn’t one he’d been party to witnessing before. But he hadn’t the time to observe and classify it. Hadn’t the time to pick out just when it was that the other boy moved either- his body going unnaturally still in response to the hand on his wrist. He had been aware, so very, very aware, of every movement Lucien had been making- of the fingers against his palm and the very shift brought about by his need to inhale oxygen.

It shouldn’t have surprised him. Taken him unaware.

But the intent behind these movements were so much more profound, saturated in emotion that Silas had not the vocabulary to discuss with proficient knowledge. Emotion only doubled, intensified within his own being- vessel within his chest pumping painfully brutal against the muscle encasing it. He’d been at the mercy of those stronger than him before, knew how to handle the blows dealt him and what muscles to relax in order to minimize the damage that was done to his body, while maximizing his chance to keep it within his pain threshold. It was instinctive, the instant dropping of his shoulders- though, he knew himself, that it wasn’t what the other boy was intending to do. Though how he knew or even the ability to temper his own reactions were lost to him. His body dropped, his breath stilling for the space it took for his muscles to recognize the difference, for his face to drop against the one beneath him. Lips. The set to his spine changed, the rounding of it shifting as his own lips opened by instant response. Instant. Gratified noise leaving on the edge of a noise not quite escaped between their joined lips. Silas wasn’t well liked. Didn’t have females following him around the castle as the boy he was sitting on did- hadn’t paid any mind to any of them even if they would have been so inclined. In his mind there was only one girl- only one of their species that mattered to him anything at all and she was … something entirely different. Feelings so strong, so cemented within his being that he should have felt wrong for what he was doing now, for the lips against his and the instant, clamoring response that they awoke within him- his own pressing back just as, if not more, needy. She was the only girl. There. There was that distinction. His involvement did nothing to lessen either of them. Separate. Apart. They ran two parallel lines that made up his life and played their own respective parts in each- without ever intersecting. Not really. As if that had been the only distinction he needed, and really it had, his hands seemed to clench- fingers curling in upon his palm before they moved up- sudden.

Overwhelming.

Pushed against the fabric of the robes he’d worked so hard not to soil earlier, immaculate. Moved until his palm were almost cupping the lower curve of Lucien’s jaw, until the center of his hand were pressed into the hollow of his cheek- moved. Kept moving. Only stopping when the tips of the finger of that hand could press into the temple of that boy, unsure of just what he were trying to convey, of what was spiraling out of him and into this other boy, what was consuming him so fiercely from the inside out- turning him askew. His other hand shifted over the front of the shoulder it was pressed into, felt the muscle beneath the fabric, the underplay, shift just beneath the skin there beneath as he did so, his fingers curling into the fabric and dragging, pulling as if he were pulling the other boy more solidly into himself. Pregnant, the pause that it shouldered, his lips pausing in their movement for a full breath- raggedly drawn through his nose before his face screwed up upon itself, lips pressing if possibly even harder down into the pair joined to his as his fingers drug- hard down the angled plains of the face before him, skin denting beneath the pressure, warm rush of blood not released against his digits until they finally came to a pause once more at the jaw under them, curled until his lips could open- tongue moving inexpertly against the seam of lips against it, hushed noise exiting his now parted lips and filling the space amidst the heavy breathing and sound of rustling fabric.

you come along because i love your face ,
and i'll admire your expensive taste
- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

tagged LUCIEN words stuff  notes WELL HELL status FINISHED template nixxy of CAUTION 2.0

[Lucien Maddock]

Impulsive was viewed as a negative trait in his family, something that none of his other siblings had ever seemed to struggle with, but it was an issue...that he didn't like to admit that he had to deal with. He liked to think that he had been handling it fairly well, most of the time. Had kept himself contained for this long, waited until all parties agreed upon the conditions and he knew that Silas could have asked for anything, and sitting like that, he would have agreed. It wasn't something that he did with men. He had his share of women, all of whom he was highly selective about. He didn't understand the fleeting encounters that seemed to be the norm in this castle. It wasn't his taste. He liked something a little more lasting, something with a build up that he could fall into, in the only way that he was ever allowed to fall into anything. Roles were being accepted and whenever he pulled the man forward, he wasn't sure exactly what to expect, another something he didn't deal with. Outside variables. Though, there was no rejection, didn't feel but the slightest seize of the shoulders before they settled, leaning that much more forward, into his grasp, hand letting go of the wrist he had pulled until it could hover over the crumpled, dirty sleeves of Silas' robes. He was moving, moving back against him, even just the slightest rotation of his hips as he leaned forward to meet Lucien's lips and he, he could smell him. The rot of days camped out in this little room, sweat and odor and potion residue. Smoke clinging to those dirty pores and muck on the fingertips now pressing into him. Lucien's brow pinched, his nose crinkling but his eyes only shut that much further, he couldn't stop himself. He couldn't because it was what he wanted, and Silas had finally agreed to him. Finally allowed him this chance to be that much closer to his mind and that was the real interest there, hidden so expertly away beneath the layer of filth and it was his, all his to pick and and observe as he pleased. Some sort of grunt boiled from the back of his throat, hint of disgust with himself rather than what he was smelling, touching because it didn't stop him. Should by all accounts stop him. As their lips parted and their faces shifted into a better position, just the bare moments of hesitation before – for a very rare time – Lucien caved to that touch lifting it's hands to his face and that closest thing to goose flesh he had ever had prickled down his arms and up his spine.

His hands touched back down again over Silas' bicep, through the dingy clothing until he could feel the soft, nearly un-sculpted arms beneath. It wasn't that he found him attractive, nobody really did. It wasn't that he had any striking features of even one singular that was that much better than those around him. He didn't have the speaking voice of warm gravel like he had heard was so popular, Silas was simply that. There was just something irreplaceable about him – perhaps his mind, perhaps something else. He was like a creek, shallow and vast all at once, cool and soothing – even tempered. More or less. He was a constant – there was little guess work involved with him and perhaps Lucien was the only one who knew that. Lucien had found him, and so it would stay. The soft inhales of breath through that large nose, that fingers pressing down onto his cheeks that should have made him wince, his own shoulders just barely leaving the wall that he had been pressed against moments before, holding to the man as his spine moved opposite that atop him. Straightening as he bent, bending as he straightened.

He wasn't expecting passion. He had been expecting to knock into that overly large nose and resulting in disappointment and anger. Though, the movements of the lips were slightly messy and off kilter, little technique but it left nothing to be desired, Silas' hands moving over the shoulder of his robes, no longer contained or keeping the mess to himself and Lucien knew he was going to reek of his boy for many showers to come. No longer being careful, not currently wondering what people were going to say about him whenever he left this isolated room. Just – acceptance. The ability to be removed from that outside of this room and dedicate himself to this that he was feeling...whatever it was. Just about the only form of commitment he felt he was ever going to be ready for. Pulled, forward into the other boy, and he cringed again but didn't pull away, hands dipping under the arms he was holding to encourage the contact – he had so very little physical contact with anyone, his own hands dipping under, pushing around the ribcage to rest, delicately like Silas was his woman, and remembering there was no need for delicacy, and pushing harder into the thick fabric covering the boys ever inch. The rewarding contact of a firmer kiss, his nose pushed firmly enough against the other that he could no longer smell – no distractions, lips parting to allow limited access, pushing forward to further the contact.

---

Tagged: Silas
Words: Some
Wearing: more uniforms. Sweater.
Timing: fourth year, obviously.

[Silas Prince]

stop there and let me correct it ,

i wanna live a life from a new perspective

It did not need to be stated that Silas’ lips were, up to this moment, thoroughly foreign territory upon those of another, any other. Not only because of age and his general social status- or because of the repulsion afforded him due to his distraction from remembering things such as hygiene or socially acceptable topics of discussion. There were any number of numerous explanations that could go into the discussion should it ever be broached or touched upon. Not that it would need to, but that was opposite the reasoning of thought. He had, in fact, imagined often enough what it would be like to have his lips against another’s. Not Lucien, not ever had his brain made that particular leap that would allow him to picture such an event. Nor even know that it was possible before this very moment. Not that this attraction was completely unknown to the younger boy- but again, besides the point of such musings. He had, however, imagined kissing- in detail and frequency both- another blonde, another blonde who had already muddied his responses up once in this encounter due to the distinction needed for separation. Daisy. He’d spent more time than he would ever care to mention thinking about the brush of her lips under his own or vice versa. Spent far too long on such a base vice for his thoughts and come up with every circumstance possibly to be reckoned and any scenario in which could conceivably be dreamt. So much so that he had, himself, fancied that he could, in a tactile way, feel them upon his own. Soft and sweet and pillowed just as their shape would suggest. He was just a boy after all, and while obviously not immune to the carnal side of things, greatly ignorant of what all that entailed. At least, so far he had been. With Lucien’s hands grasping him and his lips moving harshly against his- harshly, not at all the romantic thing that he had construed within his imaginings with the other blonde. Fierce and demanding, hard to the point of being physically painful. It was cruel and rigorous, demanding he strip himself to his foundations and build them up once more on the spot in order to accommodating the shifting dynamic between them. The heat left behind in the wake of Lucien’s palms, even through the dirtied fabric and whatever accumulation of dirt that had stuck to his flesh in the past few days- potions and dust and ingredients all and it didn’t seem to hinder the response within him at all.



It was like a caged beast had awoken inside of him- pushing at the seams of what he had formerly thought to be his person and expanding it into an entirely new being. Hands. He hadn’t ever thought that tactile sensation could make that large an impression upon his ability to formulate cognitive thought. Almost entirely thrown out of the window as the lips beneath his opened up- nose pushing so far into his as to make it difficult to breathe. Enough so that he could not properly inhale- his lips still attached and his nostrils compromised as they were, yet oxygen at this point in time was not nearly important enough a need for him to break apart from the positioning they were in- his lips parting as well and tasting the very real, very clean essence that came from the opened mouth before him- his fingers tightening upon the grip they had with a noise out of his mouth that he couldn’t identify having not heard or made it thus, in any time. And yet he knew, intrinsically, that it had been perpetrated upon due to the extreme conglomeration of emotion that had welled within him, pleasure and the realigning of understanding- desire and frustration and pent up attraction all coming out between his lips- the scrape of teeth against lips opposite his, pointed teeth pushing into the flesh and withdrawing as soon as he realized, with what little rationality he still held, the motion with which he had just carried out. Tricky, navigating this sort of stream, his hips shifting with the curling tightness that had filled his lower abdomen, the heat that arced through what seemed every vein that built up his venous system. Shifting, circling downwards and freezing within place- harsh breath ringing out in the air just as suddenly as if it had just begun as he jerked back- the response his body held so foreign in another’s presence as to fill him with shame and fear both- despite the ways in which they were coming together.



Fear. Sharp and tangy against the tenor of the other emotions still charging through him, his widened black eyes coming to rest on the face in front of him as he scrambled, reactionary, off of the lap to which he had been pulled. A mess of limbs and agitation, ungraceful even despite the fact that he managed to tumble off of the taller boy without much more than a slight bumping of legs against the other- good at deflection and escape, should be- with his past history. Only stopping once his limbs were pulled up, tightened into his frame once more across from Lucien, with just enough of a difference of space between them so as to seem as if it were normal. Despite the breath still tearing raggedly out of his lips, despite the very real evidence of arousal clinging to his being, despite even the red staining his ruddy-pale complexion. Sallow almost completely overrun by the sheer impregnation of color upon it. “I think…,” a rough exhale, words still carefully measured within, his gaze finally tearing back up to Lucien’s with a steadier purpose. Defined. Changed. Other. The air between them no longer carried the same force, was now… different. Now only with different lines that made up the definitions. “That I should go shower.” Clear. Unopposed. He was agreeing. In his own manner, in his own fashion. Giving. Something in him- despite his hatred of the actual shower itself, wanted it if only to be clean. Clean enough.

you come along because i love your face ,
and i'll admire your expensive taste
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tagged LUCIEN words stuff  notes WELL HELL status FINISHED template nixxy of CAUTION 2.0

[Lucien Maddock]

He couldn't think about what he was doing – he had agreed and that was enough, the cruel tilt to his lips, establishing, something between the two of them. Moving pieces into place for their relationship over the course of the next few years. Because it was Silas, and he had never been able to avoid him and he doubted that the boy was going to try now. A first, on many fronts. He didn't move apart from a small smile whenever Silas pulled himself away, breaking their contact and the surprised look on his face. Even the potion behind him had to of been forgotten. He could see it in the active – very present look on his face right now. Dark eyes almost lighter, lit from behind as the smooth, arrogant smirk moved back into place over Lucien's features. Never letting his real feelings show. Didn't want to give any of his inner monologue away. Scooting away and making himself smaller. He should stop that. Didn't he realize that he had just been given something powerful? A gift, or token invaluable. Though no less coveted. Didn't he understand that? Oh, if Silas could see him now. Swollen lips and a pallor that didn't look dead, almost peach in it's flush, he could even see his ragged breathing through all of those, dingy, smelly layers.

“I think…,” He was capable of thinking? Shame. He must have done something wrong. “That I should go shower.” Lucien's lips curled further, “Company?” he already knew the answer to that. No, he didn't want company. He needed to retreat, and sit in the steamed up room for hours until he had just picked apart every little detail of what had just happened, the ramifications. “Don't go washing me off,” he said with a hint of a pout to his tone, teasing, mocking and cruel. Even if this time, he didn't mean for it to be. It just was, habit. “Go. I'll watch.” he winked, indicating the shower, but in actuality, he meant that he would be watching the potion while Silas was away. Until he could find something a touch cleaner to put on. Silas would be leaving behind more than enough journals to keep him busy...while he did a little processing of his own. “You're dismissed.” He indicated the door with his eyes. “Go.” firmer. No longer giving him an option.

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Tagged: Silas
Words: 744
Wearing: more uniforms. Sweater.
Timing: Closed.