Lucius doesn't take sugar, but he insists it be brought up on his morning tea tray when Hermione stays. He likes the way the crystals glisten on her damp skin before melting under his tongue.
The heat of the cinnamon sliding down his throat as he laps it up from Severus' arse has Lucius bade the house elf to provide the spice with their afternoon expresso. He takes the drink black and Severus, hard.
Evening libations are not, however, Lucius' to choose; this, he doesn't mind. Severus' potions are clever; Hermione's charms, abundant—and the experience of having them both, divine.