Lukas' head snaps up as a strange voice orders him around, then gasps as the ink around his neck responds. It warms in his skin, puppeteering his limbs. "W-wait, I don't even-!" He catches a lump of fabric before he can think about it. "No, come on, please- he's had a bad day already, I have to- please don't-" He can't stop himself from stripping down and pulling it on anyway. His body stops in front of the mirror.
He'd known it was lace- it was too itchy to be anything else- but he whimpers at the sight. His face is all hot and depths, he's so flushed he looks sunburnt. "...Really? This- this isn't even anything!" The bra doesn't even cover his nipples, framing the dark buds in white lace. The panties aren't much better, but fuck, at least they're covering everything. "Please don't make me walk around like this," Lukas whispers, but he's never been able to fight the burning yanking his hands away from his chest or his legs toward the door. He manages to hesitate long enough to peek out of his door, look left and right before he skitters across the hall and slips into Auggie's room. Fuck. Fuck fuck fuck. At least Auggie would want to fix whatever let some random person order Lukas around, right?
He spends what little time he has left pacing around Auggie's room on socked feet, up until the door opens.
Augustus is drunk. Lukas knows his brother is drunk. He'd been getting ready to go pick him up from the bar before... this. All it means is that Augustus is more drunk than he normally has a chance to get, and he drapes himself over Lukas' back with wandering hands. "Oooh, for me?" He slurs, ignoring the way Lukas cringes.
...Maybe Lukas wouldn't tell him after all. He shivers under those same hands as he is used as a crutch to get Augustus to bed, a familiar hand wrapped around his throat.
Augustus squints, seated atop his hips. "'S warm," he slurs. "Why'ssit warm? I didn't do that."
"M-made me dress up and come in here," Lukas answers quietly, which makes his brother frown harder. But predictably, he gets distracted by Lukas' little shiver as his brother's fingers brush over the sorry excuse for a bra. He pinches next, and Lukas muffles a little moan in the back of his hand. He knows he shouldn't enjoy this, he swears he does... but fuck if he knows why anymore.
Auggie is heavy on top of him, keeping his shoulders to the mattress as he starts to knead at Lukas like a cat. Clumsy claws draw out little whines and gasps, and Lukas tries to push him off. All it gets him is a snarled "Stop squirming," and a pulse of heat down his spine.
Why does he ever bother? This is all fighting ever gets him.
