#shadowhunters stuff

He scoots in closer, chest to back, his legs sliding along the satin sheets to tuck behind Magnus’s legs. Alec closes his eyes. Hazily, he recalls those sheets last night, rubbing silky-soft against his bare skin, twisted in his hands, slipping beneath his knees. Magnus spread out across the expanse of shining black and gold fabric, more gorgeous than Alec had ever imagined. Alec’s hips press forward, snug against Magnus.

“Mm, I do like where this is going,” Magnus purrs, and Alec smiles against his skin. It’s not going anywhere, or at least he hadn’t meant it to. He’s hard, and aches to be as close to Magnus as possible, to taste his skin and swallow his gasps, but mostly he’s just enjoying being here with him. The memories of what they did last night are more than enough for now. Alec loops an arm over Magnus’s hip, slides his palm up to rest flat against the center of his chest. The slow, steady thump of Magnus’s heart taps against his fingers, the gentle rise and fall of his chest nudges Alec’s arm up and down, up and down, up and down…

When Alec wakes again, he’s shifted flat onto his back with Magnus tucked beneath his arm, his mouth sucking lazily against Alec’s pulse point. Alec groans some semblance of Magnus’s name, threads his fingers through his messy morning hair and asks, “What time is it?”

Magnus looks up only to fix Alec with an unimpressed side-long glance. “I cannot imagine anything that I care less about at this particular moment,” he says, lips tickling along Alec’s throat as he speaks.

Alec smiles crookedly at that and replies, “Unfortunately, we do have lives. And jobs.” Magnus hmphs in response. It makes Alec smile even harder.

Magnus does, eventually, pull himself away; just as committed to his duties as Alec, though sometimes more reluctant to admit it. Manus slips on a robe, and Alec a shirt and soft pants, and they pad to the kitchen not even pretending to ignore the heat still thrumming between them. Magnus grabs vanilla and cinnamon from the spice rack and gives Alec a long, deliberate look down and back up his body as he dances to the stove. He pulls eggs and milk from the fridge, brushing up against Alec on his way to and from, though his kitchen is spacious and Alec is leaning on a counter well out of the way.

“Could you get me the bread, darling?” Magnus asks, back turned at the stove and Alec’s heart skitters in his chest at the pet name. He brings the bread over, sliding across the counter as he presses himself along Magnus’ back.

“Anything else?” Alec says, soft and low in Magnus’s ear, bottom lip lingering on the shell of it.

“N-“ Magnus swallows, his eyes flutter. “No. Thank you.”

Alec grins and leans back against the counter, very pleased with himself at getting such a strong reaction out of Magnus by doing so little. He feels the same, this morning, mostly. But settled. Content. It’s not just that he no longer feels weird and wrong for growing up in the Institute the way he did, believing he’d never have anything like this. It’s not just that he’s in a relationship or that he’s finally had sex. It’s Magnus. The way he looks at Alec, the way he touches him, that Magnus wants him, so badly— Alec has never felt so cherished. He never thought that someone would desire him like that.

The French toast piles up in a steaming, fragrant stack and Alec’s stomach rumbles. Magnus puts two more slices on the griddle. The haze of sleep has lifted, and Alec is starving.

“Can’t you just—“ Alec twirls his wrists in a poor imitation of Magnus’s magic.

Magnus clicks his tongue and points the spatula at Alec. “Some things are worth the wait, Alexander.” He makes some sort of sweet cream and blueberry filling, brews a pot of coffee and decorates the kitchen island with flowers in a vase and delicate blue and white china place settings. He takes his time fussing with everything, teasing Alec for his impatience, he’s sure. When they finally sit, Alec wolfs down three slices of french toast while Magnus adds cream and sugar to his coffee.

“Worked up an appetite, did we?” Magnus smirks. Alec rolls his eyes.

“You were there,” Alec says between mouthfuls.

“Yes, indeed I was.” Magnus draws his fingertips along the sharp cut of his own jaw and down his neck, eyes going distant and mouth curling up. Alec’s eyes track the movement of Magnus’s fingers, his own hand pausing in the air over his food. Magnus’s robe gapes as he lifts his coffee cup to his lips, half of his chest and one broad shoulder are exposed when he brings his hand back down. Hunger satiated, Alec swallows hard, drops his fork loudly down onto his plate and asks again, “What time is it?”

“I don’t—“ Magnus starts with a sigh and Alec interrupts, gritting out as he wriggles impatiently on his stool, “Magnus. Seriously. The time.”

With a raise of his eyebrows and snap of his fingers, some distant electronic device turns on and announces the date, time, and temperature. When Magnus snaps it back off Alec stands up so quickly his stool wobbles. Magnus stares at him like he’s lost his mind. “We have fifteen minutes,” Alec says. “Twenty if I run the whole way back.”

Magnus’s head tips to the side. “You do know that I can portal you…”

Alec nods, eyes wide. That’s right, he’d forgotten about that in his haste. “Thirty-five then. We can shower after.”

Magnus’s face is expressionless as he drains his coffee cup, two fingers held aloft as if to put Alec on pause. He sets the cup down, stands and walks from the kitchen in one graceful, fluid movement as he comments, “You know, Alexander, I may admire your dogged determination most of all.” He turns toward the bedroom. Alec grins widely and scurries after him. When Magnus stops in the doorway Alec slips past him and shucks his shirt, not wanting to waste a single second.