Title: Pale, Blond and Blue
Author: xNomii
Summary: They look the same, but they aren't. They don't sound the same, they don't feel the same. They're different, just like everybody else. But unlike everybody else, they're his. And he's theirs. LS/ASP/LS
Rating: R
Wordcount: 975
Pairing: Albus Severus Potter/Lorcan Scamander/Lysander Scamander
Contains: Slash, slight angst, references to sexual intercourse, implied twincest
Beta: Dark-Night-Sky
Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter and no money is being made with this.
Authors Note
I don't really know exactly where this came from, but that doesn't mean I don't like it. I'm actually quite proud of it, so I hope you enjoy! The main character is Albus, even though he is not the character that I put in the description. The story is told from his perspective.
Pale, Blond and Blue
Smooth and small and pale. Soft blond hair and piercing baby blue eyes. Soothing voice and a healing touch. So much like each other. So much like a mirrored picture. But yet, so undeniable different.
He didn´t understand how someone made from such perfection could be brought into this world twice. He didn´t see why people thought they were just the same. They found they looked the same, sound the same and felt the same. But they didn´t. They weren´t even close.
Where Lysander was rough and warm, Lorcan was delicate and cold. Where Lysander was bold, Lorcan was shy. Where Lysander had hair made of the palest blond and eyes colored like the middle of the sky, Lorcan´s hair was streaked with honey and his eyes were the color of the surface of the ocean. They weren´t much alike at all, better yet, they were extremely different.
Lysander spoke with words, Lorcan spoke with his eyes, his hands and his heart. Lysander told people what he thought, Lorcan told Lysander. Lysander was different, Lorcan was strange. People couldn´t tell them apart. People didn´t spot their differences like he did.
But he did.
And he wasn´t going to tell anyone. It were his differences, he was the only one to spot them. He would be the only one to spot them. He wouldn´t tell anyone of the differences. Not now, not ever.
He wouldn´t tell them the differences were most visible when the blond boy´s were naked and lying next to him, whispering soothing words into the skin of his neck. He wouldn´t tell them that it was then he realized that they didn´t sound alike at all. He wouldn´t tell them that Lysander´s hair was gorgeous in the moonlight, but Lorcan´s hair shone in the sunlight. He woudln´t tell them that is was Lorcan who was most vocal, who moaned and groaned and whimpered.
No, he wouldn´t. It was their little secret. It was his little secret.
He wouldn´t tell them they didn´t smell the same, that Lysander smelled of cranberries mixed with fig and Lorcan smelled like pinewood. He wouldn´t tell them of the scar that marred Lysander´s body from when he fell from a tree when he was little. He wouldn´t tell them of the birthmark just under Lorcan´s nipple, shaped like a perfect circle.
He wouldn´t.
There would be no telling that Lorcan was unable to generate his own body heat so his skin always felt cold. No telling about the fact the only way to get him warm was by friction, delicious, slow and drawn out friction. He wouldn´t tell anyone that he and Lysander curled around Lorcan for hours with no intention of letting go. He wouldn´t tell them he dreaded mornings because then he would have to leave. He wouldn´t tell anyone he preferred night time, he preferred the dark. And he wouldn´t tell them it was because during the night the twins were his and only his. Like he wanted them, forever.
Most people had their favorite. The teachers preferred Lorcan, he was deemed smarter and handed his assignments in on time. The students preferred Lysander, he was more talkative, he wasn´t cold to the touch of others and he didn´t spend all his time hidden behind his brother. But he, he had no favorite. He loved Lorcan´s cold skin, he loved the boy´s compassion and his ability to love. He loved Lysander´s voice, his warmth and his ability to make him feel loved.
He had no favorite.
He wasn´t going to spill that he loved how their long pale fingers combed through his messy dark hair, slowly entangling every knot. He wasn´t going to give away the fact they could make him do anything. He wasn´t going to admit he needed their love more than anything.
He wasn´t.
Because the secret was his. He would let anyone believe they were the same, so that no one would see they were special. As long as no one would see it, no one would take away what was his. Because that was something they did have in common, they were both his. And he, he was theirs. They were perfectly capable of sharing, as he was capable of loving them both.
But he wouldn´t tell anyone. He would be frowned upon. Ones heart is not big enough to enclose to boys as ones true love, they would say. He would know they were wrong. He would know because his heart was big enough, would always be big enough, but he wouldn´t be able to convince them. You cannot convince people when they don´t want to embrace the truth is what you tell them. You don´t even need to try.
A purposeless attempt to prove what is right. To set straight what is wrong.
Useless.
So he didn't. He kept it from his mind as the two smaller frames lay curled up on his chest. He kept his mind focussed on now and tried not to think about what could be, what would be. He wouldn't think about it while his fingers danced over Lorcan's smooth back. He wouldn't pay attention to it as he felt Lysander's hot breath on the side of his face.
No words were spoken about it while Lorcan sank himself down on top of him. No sentence were made as Lysander's long and warm fingers breached his own entrance. No conversations were held as they consumed, devoured, owned each other.
Not a single word.
No one would ever know he, Albus Severus Potter loved both Lorcan and Lysander Scamander more than life itself. No one would ever know he had a heart big enough to hold them both. Just as nobody would ever believe him if he even took the effort to tell.
It was their little secret. It was his little secret.
Always.