Mar. 29th, 2016 12:12 am
FIC: All on a Summer's Day
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thrillingdetectivetales All on a Summer's Day
Magnus Bane/Alec Lightwood
This is a repost of a story originally uploaded to Archive of Our Own under the username "mutt" on March 29, 2016. It was written as a fill for the Trope Bing prompt "altered states (of the mind)." It was uploaded to DW on June 1, 2019 and backdated to its original post date.
Original author's note:
Magnus awoke abruptly.
He blinked into the dark, mind whipping toward wakefulness at breakneck speed, like the careening edge of a snapped rubber band.
There was nothing amiss, at first glance. Watery moonlight leaked through gaps in the curtains, cutting stripes of hazy blue-silver into the dark. Chairman Meow was curled into a ball on a beaded pillow, purring thunderously. The air was tepid and still, sticky with the muggy warmth of late August, so thick that the lazily spinning ceiling fan did little more than displace the air.
Magnus sat silently, holding his breath, and strained his ears against the night, listening for any indication of what might have woken him.
From somewhere in his living room there came a gentle thud, immediately followed by a much louder one. Magnus frowned.
A familiar masculine voice mumbled distantly, "Oops."
Magnus sighed, half in relief, half in irritation, and sank back into his mattress, pressing the heels of his palms to his eyes.
"God save me from Shadowhunters," he grumbled, rolling out of bed with an exasperated huff.
He was in a pair of green silk briefs decorated with glinting golden koi fish, and not much else. He considered throwing on a robe, but decided that anyone who felt comfortable stumbling into his house in the middle of the night could deal with his proclivity toward minimal sleeping attire.
Besides, he was fairly confident that he had correctly inferred his mystery guest's identity. If he was right, the briefs could only really work in his favor.
Magnus stole into the living room as quietly as he was able - suspicions aside, it paid to be wary - and was only mildly surprised to find a dark shape sprawled across his Persian rug. With a flick of his wrist, the room was bathed in warm golden light.
Alec Lightwood was lying prone on the floor, clad in a blue tee shirt with a plunging v-shaped neckline that flashed an attractive hint of collarbone and a pair of scandalously tight black jeans. One of his boots had been abandoned near the door, and he was tugging sluggishly at the laces of the other.
Magnus had expected it to be Alec - or hoped it would be, anyway. Since their disastrous first date, they'd been out again a few times with considerably greater success and Magnus had discovered, with some degree of surprise, that he liked Alec.
Liked him in a way he hadn't expected to - won over by Alec's sweet smile and his quiet cautiousness and the way his face lit up when he laughed. Liked him so much that Magnus had taken to leaving his door unlocked in case Alec wanted to stop by whenever he had the time.
This was significantly earlier than he had ever taken advantage of the open invitation before, not that Magnus particularly minded. He wanted Alec to feel comfortable and welcome here, at any hour. What was more concerning was the way Alec, who moved like a shadow and fought like a machine, seemed to have lost control of his motor skills.
"Alec?" Magnus asked, stepping forward, eyes roving over Alec's supine form, searching for signs of injury. "Are you all right?"
Alec blinked blearily up at him as he rounded the sofa, almost as if he were surprised to find Magnus here, in the sitting room of his own loft.
"Magnus!" Alec said, a shade too loud, a wide grin spilling sweetly across his face. His pupils were blown, barely a sliver of cerulean visible beside the inky black. "I fell down."
Magnus couldn't help the rush of affection that washed over him. He knelt down next to Alec and rested a hand on his shoulder.
"I can see that, darling. Care to tell me why, precisely, you're here falling down on my floor at an unholy hour of the morning?" He grinned. "Not that I'm complaining, you understand."
Alec pressed his lips into a tight line, face thoughtful.
"I think," he said carefully, tugging at his boot laces, "I'm high."
Magnus blinked.
Alec blinked. Then blinked again, and broke into that same slow, sweet smile.
"You're really pretty," he said gently, abandoning his attempts at undressing in favor of running his fingers down Magnus's arm. His touch left sparks in its wake, lighting an electric trail along Magnus's skin.
"Thank you," Magnus murmured, sincerely. "Do you think you can stand up?"
"I was standing up when I got here," Alec provided hopefully. Magnus bit his lip to keep from laughing.
He considered casting a tiny spell to take the edge off of Alec's obviously inebriated state, but magic could be fickle when it came into contact with illicit substances - especially those of Downworlder origin - and he found he wasn't willing to risk it. Not when it was Alec who his magic might backfire on; not when he didn't even know what Alec had taken.
Alec pushed himself into a seated position, relying heavily on Magnus's hands to steady him.
"There you go," Magnus said approvingly. "We're halfway to vertical already."
Alec flashed him a shy, amused smirk, as though he suspected he was being teased but wasn't quite sure. Magnus grinned back and dragged his palm across Alec's broad shoulders.
The shirt he was wearing was very thin, and very blue, and very tight - not at all in the vein of Alec's usual wardrobe, which consisted mostly of hideous, worn sweaters. Magnus couldn't say he minded the change.
He rose to his feet and offered his hands out to Alec, who took them gratefully and managed to pull himself up with no small amount of effort.
Magnus guided him over to the couch, nudging and tugging until he had Alec situated against the plush cushions to his satisfaction. Magnus stood in front of him, their knees brushing. He reached down to push a few errant locks of dark hair off of Alec's forehead.
"There, now," Magnus said quietly, sliding his hand around to cup Alec's cheek, thumb grazing the corner of Alec's mouth. Alec closed his eyes, lashes like smears of ink against his pale skin, and leaned into Magnus's hand. "That's better than lying on the floor, isn't it?"
Alec nodded but didn't speak, his lips dragging tantalizingly against Magnus's palm. A warm curl of desire pooled low in Magnus's belly. He took a deep breath.
Still slow, like he was moving through molasses, Alec reached out to wind his arms around Magnus's waist, pulling him forward and burying his face in the bare skin of Magnus's stomach.
"Alec," Magnus said, breathless, tangling his fingers in Alec's messy mop of hair. Alec hummed, the sound reverberating against Magnus's stomach and making him shiver.
Maybe he should have put a robe on, after all, Magnus thought absently, while Alec continued rubbing his face against Magnus's abdomen like some kind of oversized jungle cat. His arms were a steel vice, holding Magnus in place.
Magnus closed his eyes and took a breath, gathering all the willpower he could dredge up.
"Sweetheart," he said quietly. Alec looked up at him, his blue eyes dark and hooded. "I need to know what you took."
Alec frowned at him.
"Took?" he repeated, confused. His breath was very warm and his mouth was very red. Magnus swallowed. Alec nuzzled against him, shaking his head. "I didn't take anything."
Magnus ran his hands through Alec's hair, fingers dragging lightly against Alec's scalp. Alec let out a soft moan at the sensation. The sound shot molten heat down Magnus's spine.
"Did somebody give you something? A drink?" Magnus insisted. Alec thought for a minute.
"There were tarts," he said, voice hazy and distant. "I thought they were strawberry." He closedhis eyes, fingers tightening on Magnus's waist.
"Faerie fruit," Magnus murmured with a frown.
There was very little that Magnus could do to counteract the effects of faerie fruit. Fae magic was old, and wild, and strong; strong enough that his demonic magic, when used against it, would behave erratically, reacting in ways Magnus hadn't intended.
"I'm afraid I can't help with this, darling," he said, apologetic, carding his fingers through Alec's hair again. "You'll have to let it run its course."
Alec didn't appear to have heard him. He nuzzled against Magnus's stomach, pressing a kiss low on the flat plane, and licked a searing stripe across Magnus's skin. Magnus groaned in the back of his throat.
"Alec," he bit out, a harsh whisper, and tugged at Alec's hair. Alec gave a surprised, needy gasp. A wave of arousal rocketed through Magnus, set his head to spinning. It took more effort than he
expected to add, "Stop."
Alec jumped back like he'd been burned. He was breathing heavily - deep, gasping gulps - and staring at Magnus with wide, glassy eyes. His cheeks were stained vibrant pink, color spilling prettily down his throat. Magnus licked his lips.
"Sorry," Alec gasped, shaking his dark head. His fingers twitched, and he pressed his palms against the sofa cushions, like he didn't trust himself not to reach out again."Sorry, I'm sorry."
"It's okay!" Magnus reassured immediately. He took a slow, centering breath and brushed his fingers against Alec's shoulder.
For a split second, Alec's entire body went taut, like a bowstring, and then he shuddered and relaxed under Magnus's hand.
"It's really okay," Magnus promised quietly, running his knuckles up the curve of Alec's neck, nudging the edge of his jaw. Alec whimpered. Magnus felt his chest clench. "And if you feel the urge to revisit this display in the future, I will enthusiastically participate. As it is, darling, you're off your head on faerie fruit and I couldn't bear to take advantage of you."
Alec smiled shyly up at him.
"What if I said you wouldn't be taking advantage?" he asked, breathless.
Magnus sighed and leaned down, so close to Alec that their noses brushed.
"I would ask you to tell me that again in the morning, when you've had a chance to sleep it off," he said. Alec licked his lips, nodding almost imperceptibly. Magnus couldn't resist closing the distance for one quick, hard press of his mouth to Alec's.
It was a bright, sweet moment of soft heat, the faded scent of cologne and skin.
Magnus pulled back, still close enough that their breath mingled between them. Alex was smiling in that dazed, awed way that he smiled whenever Magnus was affectionate with him; as if he couldn't quite believe that it was real.
"Where were you served tarts made with faerie fruit, anyway?" Magnus asked, smiling coquettishly.
"There was a party in Central Park," Alec explained, eyes trained on Magnus's mouth like he couldn't quite tear his gaze away. It was terribly flattering. "Izzy wanted to go."
"Do you need to tell her you're safe?" Magnus asked. Alec shook his head, one of his hands drifting up from the sofa, fingers brushing Magnus's.
"She knows I'm here," he said. A surprised thrill rolled through Magnus.
This thing between them was still new. It was Alec's first relationship, and Magnus had taken painstaking measures to be accommodating and understanding.
Over their handful of outings, Magnus had gleaned that not many people in Alec's life went out of their way to care for him; to protect him; to value him. Anytime Magnus did something that Alec found particularly thoughtful, or anytime Magnus indicated a preference for spending time in Alec's company over anything else he could potentially do that day, Alec would smile, shy and
stunned. Every time, it struck Magnus between his ribs - a sharp, bright emotion unlike anything
Magnus had ever experienced before.
He knew Alec wasn't out to most of his family, and that maybe he never would be. But Isabelle knew that Alec was gay, and she knew that he had come here, tonight, to be with Magnus.
It wasn't quite a confession, but it was humbling and powerful all the same. Magnus's voice caught in his throat. He swallowed, thick.
"Well, then," he said after a moment, forcing a nonchalance that he did not feel, "how about we go to bed?"
Alec gazed down at himself, and then frowned at Magnus.
"I don't have any pajamas," he said, looking stricken. Magnus let loose a bright burst of laughter.
He lifted Alec's hand up to his face, dropped a featherlight kiss against his scarred knuckles.
"That's a bonus," Magnus promised with a grin. Alec ducked his head, biting back a smile.
Magnus took his other hand and tugged.
Alec went willingly, rising to his feet so fast that Magnus stumbled under the sudden onslaught of Alec's full body weight. He slipped his arm around Alec's waist to compensate, took a few small steps to regain his footing. They stood for a moment, just looking at each other, positioned as if they were about to set off around the room in a waltz.
"It seems I've finally managed to sweep you off your feet," Magnus murmured, cutting Alec a sly smirk. Alec laughed, eyes glittering.
"You, uh," Alec darted a glance up at Magnus from under his long lashes, "you did that awhile ago."
Pleasure spread through Magnus in a starburst. He leaned forward, tucking his face into the curve of Alec's neck.
"Alexander, you can't just say things like that," Magnus breathed.
"Did you not like it?" Alec asked, trying for feigned concern, but too smug to really pull it off. Magnus groaned. Alec pulled Magnus tight against him, shifted to rest his cheek atop Magnus's
head. "I kind of thought you liked it."
This close, Magnus could smell the lingering floral smoke of a faerie bonfire where it clung to Alec's skin.
"You're making it very, very hard to be good," Magnus whispered.
Alec was quiet, swaying absently back and forth with no particular rhythm, hands traveling lazy, nonsensical paths across the bare expanse of Magnus's skin. Magnus lifted his head to find Alec looking at him, eyes wide and blue and honest.
"I trust you," Alec said.
It was a simple phrase - three words of such small consequence - and Alec said it as easily as breathing, without a flicker of hesitation or doubt. This was the magic of him, Magnus thought.
This ability to bare the truth of himself here in the air between them as though it cost him nothing. Magnus had watched Alec bow under the weight of that truth, when faced with his family, with other Nephilim. They could not, or would not, see this beautiful boy and his remarkable power. They did not appreciate the ease with which he bore the truth, when he knew his honesty would
be cherished and respected. They likely never would.
The Nephilim were not known for their compassion, for their willingness to cultivate empathy and honesty in their children. They were hard, and cold, and arrogant; victims of their own overblown sense of pride. Even so, despite that damning influence, growing sweet and warm in that hard, cold place, there was Alec.
Alec who had come to Magnus in vulnerability, secure in the knowledge that Magnus would care for him. Alec who stood in front of Magnus, a man who embodied all that he had ever been taught to hate or to fear, and looked at him with soft eyes and said so simply, "I trust you."
Magnus laced their fingers together, and leaned in to press a kiss to Alec's cheek.
"Let's go to bed," he said again, a hint of promise in his low voice.
Alec smiled, shy and pleased, and followed where Magnus led.
Magnus Bane/Alec Lightwood
This is a repost of a story originally uploaded to Archive of Our Own under the username "mutt" on March 29, 2016. It was written as a fill for the Trope Bing prompt "altered states (of the mind)." It was uploaded to DW on June 1, 2019 and backdated to its original post date.
Original author's note:
i'd like to start off with a resounding thank you to everyone who has read and commented on my works so far. you are all absolute treasures and your feedback gives me life!
this is another trope_bingo fill, written for the prompt "altered states (of the mind)."
as alec is very stoned for most of this fic, there are a few moments that could be considered dub-con although i promise magnus does his best to be conscientious of alec's inability to fully consent.
i shamelessly pinched the title for this fic from the poem, "the queen of hearts."
Magnus awoke abruptly.
He blinked into the dark, mind whipping toward wakefulness at breakneck speed, like the careening edge of a snapped rubber band.
There was nothing amiss, at first glance. Watery moonlight leaked through gaps in the curtains, cutting stripes of hazy blue-silver into the dark. Chairman Meow was curled into a ball on a beaded pillow, purring thunderously. The air was tepid and still, sticky with the muggy warmth of late August, so thick that the lazily spinning ceiling fan did little more than displace the air.
Magnus sat silently, holding his breath, and strained his ears against the night, listening for any indication of what might have woken him.
From somewhere in his living room there came a gentle thud, immediately followed by a much louder one. Magnus frowned.
A familiar masculine voice mumbled distantly, "Oops."
Magnus sighed, half in relief, half in irritation, and sank back into his mattress, pressing the heels of his palms to his eyes.
"God save me from Shadowhunters," he grumbled, rolling out of bed with an exasperated huff.
He was in a pair of green silk briefs decorated with glinting golden koi fish, and not much else. He considered throwing on a robe, but decided that anyone who felt comfortable stumbling into his house in the middle of the night could deal with his proclivity toward minimal sleeping attire.
Besides, he was fairly confident that he had correctly inferred his mystery guest's identity. If he was right, the briefs could only really work in his favor.
Magnus stole into the living room as quietly as he was able - suspicions aside, it paid to be wary - and was only mildly surprised to find a dark shape sprawled across his Persian rug. With a flick of his wrist, the room was bathed in warm golden light.
Alec Lightwood was lying prone on the floor, clad in a blue tee shirt with a plunging v-shaped neckline that flashed an attractive hint of collarbone and a pair of scandalously tight black jeans. One of his boots had been abandoned near the door, and he was tugging sluggishly at the laces of the other.
Magnus had expected it to be Alec - or hoped it would be, anyway. Since their disastrous first date, they'd been out again a few times with considerably greater success and Magnus had discovered, with some degree of surprise, that he liked Alec.
Liked him in a way he hadn't expected to - won over by Alec's sweet smile and his quiet cautiousness and the way his face lit up when he laughed. Liked him so much that Magnus had taken to leaving his door unlocked in case Alec wanted to stop by whenever he had the time.
This was significantly earlier than he had ever taken advantage of the open invitation before, not that Magnus particularly minded. He wanted Alec to feel comfortable and welcome here, at any hour. What was more concerning was the way Alec, who moved like a shadow and fought like a machine, seemed to have lost control of his motor skills.
"Alec?" Magnus asked, stepping forward, eyes roving over Alec's supine form, searching for signs of injury. "Are you all right?"
Alec blinked blearily up at him as he rounded the sofa, almost as if he were surprised to find Magnus here, in the sitting room of his own loft.
"Magnus!" Alec said, a shade too loud, a wide grin spilling sweetly across his face. His pupils were blown, barely a sliver of cerulean visible beside the inky black. "I fell down."
Magnus couldn't help the rush of affection that washed over him. He knelt down next to Alec and rested a hand on his shoulder.
"I can see that, darling. Care to tell me why, precisely, you're here falling down on my floor at an unholy hour of the morning?" He grinned. "Not that I'm complaining, you understand."
Alec pressed his lips into a tight line, face thoughtful.
"I think," he said carefully, tugging at his boot laces, "I'm high."
Magnus blinked.
Alec blinked. Then blinked again, and broke into that same slow, sweet smile.
"You're really pretty," he said gently, abandoning his attempts at undressing in favor of running his fingers down Magnus's arm. His touch left sparks in its wake, lighting an electric trail along Magnus's skin.
"Thank you," Magnus murmured, sincerely. "Do you think you can stand up?"
"I was standing up when I got here," Alec provided hopefully. Magnus bit his lip to keep from laughing.
He considered casting a tiny spell to take the edge off of Alec's obviously inebriated state, but magic could be fickle when it came into contact with illicit substances - especially those of Downworlder origin - and he found he wasn't willing to risk it. Not when it was Alec who his magic might backfire on; not when he didn't even know what Alec had taken.
Alec pushed himself into a seated position, relying heavily on Magnus's hands to steady him.
"There you go," Magnus said approvingly. "We're halfway to vertical already."
Alec flashed him a shy, amused smirk, as though he suspected he was being teased but wasn't quite sure. Magnus grinned back and dragged his palm across Alec's broad shoulders.
The shirt he was wearing was very thin, and very blue, and very tight - not at all in the vein of Alec's usual wardrobe, which consisted mostly of hideous, worn sweaters. Magnus couldn't say he minded the change.
He rose to his feet and offered his hands out to Alec, who took them gratefully and managed to pull himself up with no small amount of effort.
Magnus guided him over to the couch, nudging and tugging until he had Alec situated against the plush cushions to his satisfaction. Magnus stood in front of him, their knees brushing. He reached down to push a few errant locks of dark hair off of Alec's forehead.
"There, now," Magnus said quietly, sliding his hand around to cup Alec's cheek, thumb grazing the corner of Alec's mouth. Alec closed his eyes, lashes like smears of ink against his pale skin, and leaned into Magnus's hand. "That's better than lying on the floor, isn't it?"
Alec nodded but didn't speak, his lips dragging tantalizingly against Magnus's palm. A warm curl of desire pooled low in Magnus's belly. He took a deep breath.
Still slow, like he was moving through molasses, Alec reached out to wind his arms around Magnus's waist, pulling him forward and burying his face in the bare skin of Magnus's stomach.
"Alec," Magnus said, breathless, tangling his fingers in Alec's messy mop of hair. Alec hummed, the sound reverberating against Magnus's stomach and making him shiver.
Maybe he should have put a robe on, after all, Magnus thought absently, while Alec continued rubbing his face against Magnus's abdomen like some kind of oversized jungle cat. His arms were a steel vice, holding Magnus in place.
Magnus closed his eyes and took a breath, gathering all the willpower he could dredge up.
"Sweetheart," he said quietly. Alec looked up at him, his blue eyes dark and hooded. "I need to know what you took."
Alec frowned at him.
"Took?" he repeated, confused. His breath was very warm and his mouth was very red. Magnus swallowed. Alec nuzzled against him, shaking his head. "I didn't take anything."
Magnus ran his hands through Alec's hair, fingers dragging lightly against Alec's scalp. Alec let out a soft moan at the sensation. The sound shot molten heat down Magnus's spine.
"Did somebody give you something? A drink?" Magnus insisted. Alec thought for a minute.
"There were tarts," he said, voice hazy and distant. "I thought they were strawberry." He closedhis eyes, fingers tightening on Magnus's waist.
"Faerie fruit," Magnus murmured with a frown.
There was very little that Magnus could do to counteract the effects of faerie fruit. Fae magic was old, and wild, and strong; strong enough that his demonic magic, when used against it, would behave erratically, reacting in ways Magnus hadn't intended.
"I'm afraid I can't help with this, darling," he said, apologetic, carding his fingers through Alec's hair again. "You'll have to let it run its course."
Alec didn't appear to have heard him. He nuzzled against Magnus's stomach, pressing a kiss low on the flat plane, and licked a searing stripe across Magnus's skin. Magnus groaned in the back of his throat.
"Alec," he bit out, a harsh whisper, and tugged at Alec's hair. Alec gave a surprised, needy gasp. A wave of arousal rocketed through Magnus, set his head to spinning. It took more effort than he
expected to add, "Stop."
Alec jumped back like he'd been burned. He was breathing heavily - deep, gasping gulps - and staring at Magnus with wide, glassy eyes. His cheeks were stained vibrant pink, color spilling prettily down his throat. Magnus licked his lips.
"Sorry," Alec gasped, shaking his dark head. His fingers twitched, and he pressed his palms against the sofa cushions, like he didn't trust himself not to reach out again."Sorry, I'm sorry."
"It's okay!" Magnus reassured immediately. He took a slow, centering breath and brushed his fingers against Alec's shoulder.
For a split second, Alec's entire body went taut, like a bowstring, and then he shuddered and relaxed under Magnus's hand.
"It's really okay," Magnus promised quietly, running his knuckles up the curve of Alec's neck, nudging the edge of his jaw. Alec whimpered. Magnus felt his chest clench. "And if you feel the urge to revisit this display in the future, I will enthusiastically participate. As it is, darling, you're off your head on faerie fruit and I couldn't bear to take advantage of you."
Alec smiled shyly up at him.
"What if I said you wouldn't be taking advantage?" he asked, breathless.
Magnus sighed and leaned down, so close to Alec that their noses brushed.
"I would ask you to tell me that again in the morning, when you've had a chance to sleep it off," he said. Alec licked his lips, nodding almost imperceptibly. Magnus couldn't resist closing the distance for one quick, hard press of his mouth to Alec's.
It was a bright, sweet moment of soft heat, the faded scent of cologne and skin.
Magnus pulled back, still close enough that their breath mingled between them. Alex was smiling in that dazed, awed way that he smiled whenever Magnus was affectionate with him; as if he couldn't quite believe that it was real.
"Where were you served tarts made with faerie fruit, anyway?" Magnus asked, smiling coquettishly.
"There was a party in Central Park," Alec explained, eyes trained on Magnus's mouth like he couldn't quite tear his gaze away. It was terribly flattering. "Izzy wanted to go."
"Do you need to tell her you're safe?" Magnus asked. Alec shook his head, one of his hands drifting up from the sofa, fingers brushing Magnus's.
"She knows I'm here," he said. A surprised thrill rolled through Magnus.
This thing between them was still new. It was Alec's first relationship, and Magnus had taken painstaking measures to be accommodating and understanding.
Over their handful of outings, Magnus had gleaned that not many people in Alec's life went out of their way to care for him; to protect him; to value him. Anytime Magnus did something that Alec found particularly thoughtful, or anytime Magnus indicated a preference for spending time in Alec's company over anything else he could potentially do that day, Alec would smile, shy and
stunned. Every time, it struck Magnus between his ribs - a sharp, bright emotion unlike anything
Magnus had ever experienced before.
He knew Alec wasn't out to most of his family, and that maybe he never would be. But Isabelle knew that Alec was gay, and she knew that he had come here, tonight, to be with Magnus.
It wasn't quite a confession, but it was humbling and powerful all the same. Magnus's voice caught in his throat. He swallowed, thick.
"Well, then," he said after a moment, forcing a nonchalance that he did not feel, "how about we go to bed?"
Alec gazed down at himself, and then frowned at Magnus.
"I don't have any pajamas," he said, looking stricken. Magnus let loose a bright burst of laughter.
He lifted Alec's hand up to his face, dropped a featherlight kiss against his scarred knuckles.
"That's a bonus," Magnus promised with a grin. Alec ducked his head, biting back a smile.
Magnus took his other hand and tugged.
Alec went willingly, rising to his feet so fast that Magnus stumbled under the sudden onslaught of Alec's full body weight. He slipped his arm around Alec's waist to compensate, took a few small steps to regain his footing. They stood for a moment, just looking at each other, positioned as if they were about to set off around the room in a waltz.
"It seems I've finally managed to sweep you off your feet," Magnus murmured, cutting Alec a sly smirk. Alec laughed, eyes glittering.
"You, uh," Alec darted a glance up at Magnus from under his long lashes, "you did that awhile ago."
Pleasure spread through Magnus in a starburst. He leaned forward, tucking his face into the curve of Alec's neck.
"Alexander, you can't just say things like that," Magnus breathed.
"Did you not like it?" Alec asked, trying for feigned concern, but too smug to really pull it off. Magnus groaned. Alec pulled Magnus tight against him, shifted to rest his cheek atop Magnus's
head. "I kind of thought you liked it."
This close, Magnus could smell the lingering floral smoke of a faerie bonfire where it clung to Alec's skin.
"You're making it very, very hard to be good," Magnus whispered.
Alec was quiet, swaying absently back and forth with no particular rhythm, hands traveling lazy, nonsensical paths across the bare expanse of Magnus's skin. Magnus lifted his head to find Alec looking at him, eyes wide and blue and honest.
"I trust you," Alec said.
It was a simple phrase - three words of such small consequence - and Alec said it as easily as breathing, without a flicker of hesitation or doubt. This was the magic of him, Magnus thought.
This ability to bare the truth of himself here in the air between them as though it cost him nothing. Magnus had watched Alec bow under the weight of that truth, when faced with his family, with other Nephilim. They could not, or would not, see this beautiful boy and his remarkable power. They did not appreciate the ease with which he bore the truth, when he knew his honesty would
be cherished and respected. They likely never would.
The Nephilim were not known for their compassion, for their willingness to cultivate empathy and honesty in their children. They were hard, and cold, and arrogant; victims of their own overblown sense of pride. Even so, despite that damning influence, growing sweet and warm in that hard, cold place, there was Alec.
Alec who had come to Magnus in vulnerability, secure in the knowledge that Magnus would care for him. Alec who stood in front of Magnus, a man who embodied all that he had ever been taught to hate or to fear, and looked at him with soft eyes and said so simply, "I trust you."
Magnus laced their fingers together, and leaned in to press a kiss to Alec's cheek.
"Let's go to bed," he said again, a hint of promise in his low voice.
Alec smiled, shy and pleased, and followed where Magnus led.