This is what losing your mind feels like, Alec thinks.
Forget that he’s done recon missions where he had to stay in the same position for so long his limbs forgot how to move; he was never trained for this— ‘this’ being how every system in his body is completely and utterly incapable of resisting one Magnus Bane.
Sparks ignite from his scalp all the way to his toes again and Alec presses his face into the pillow to stifle his groan. Normally, he would wake his boyfriend up to help him with his “predicament,” but Magnus has been working himself ragged these last few weeks, with clients, some centennial conference between all the High Warlocks of North America, and not-so-secretly researching Alec’s “situation.” So when he portalled in late last night from Atlanta, the last destination for the conference, shoulders drooping and eyes dull with fatigue, Alec had greeted him with a soft kiss and all but herded him off to bed.
His boyfriend needs sleep, and Alec knows it. But he is also painfully aware of the fact that if he doesn’t untangle himself soon, he might actually die from overstimulation.
The moment he attempts to move, however, the arm around his waist tightens. It’s hardly surprising; Magnus is a clingy sleeper—they both are—and especially when he’s been under a lot of pressure for a long period of time. Normally, Alec loves this side of his boyfriend, is equal parts awed and honored that he can provide comfort by simply being there, but it’s damn inconvenient now.
He’s trying to figure out a way to remove himself from what is rapidly becoming an unsustainable situation when it happens again. If there is such a thing as “tangible lust” then that’s what’s being injected directly into Alec’s bloodstream right now.
He bites his lip to keep from moaning as heat sweeps through him from where Magnus’s hand rests against Alec’s sternum, coating every axon and seeping outward into the rest of his body and to one appendage in particular.
Through the heavy fog of arousal, he recalls this happening once before—Magnus’s magic acting up on its own, gently licking Alec awake with small, soothing caresses of wispy blue mist. He was lulled back to sleep soon after the initial surprise and subsequent burst of adoration; when he brought it up the day after, it was the first time he had ever seen Magnus truly flustered. Apparently, it had only happened a couple of times before, and only when Magnus was a special combination of exhausted and feeling thoroughly and utterly content and safe.
This isn’t like that time, though; this is intense in a way Alec has never experienced before. It doesn’t just tingle across his skin, making the hairs on his arms stand and causing shivers to travel down his spine; it goes deeper, is beneath his skin, swelling like a tidal wave of buzzing atoms.
Alec prides himself on his considerable self-control, but when another current rushes through him, those last pillars of his defenses are washed away like sticks in a tsunami.
Spinning around in Magnus’s hold, he presses their lips together.
It doesn’t take long for Magnus to respond, his lips soft and slow against Alec’s own, clearly not awake yet. Alec takes Magnus’s bottom lip between his teeth, giving it a gentle nip. Magnus’s breath hitches, and then slits of gold peek out from behind heavy eyelids, glowing in the dark.
Need wells up Alec’s throat, so fierce he almost drowns in it. He kisses Magnus again, harder, pushing him onto his back. Magnus is blinking up at him, looking confused but not like he’s opposed the proceedings.
“Alexander,” he mumbles. “What—”
“You,” Alec says roughly, punctuating the word with another kiss, “are a fucking tease, Magnus Bane.”
Magnus’s eyes are hazy, a swirl of sleep and the rapid awakening of arousal.
“I beg your pardon?”
“This is what’s going to happen.” Alec swallows, the words clogging together. “I’m going to fuck you. And you are not allowed to come before I do.” Because there needs to be some goddamn justice in the world. “Okay?”
Magnus’s eyes widen comically. For all that Alec is the scion of bluntness, he’s usually much more of a blushing, stuttering, incoherent mess in the bedroom. He gives one small nod.
“Okay, good,” Alec breathes, and then kisses him again. He is too impatient to stay there for long though, despite the tantalizing texture of Magnus’s lips. Moving downwards, he peppers every inch of Magnus’s skin with heated, sloppy kisses. He swirls the tip of his tongue over Magnus’s nipples, teasing them hard with his teeth before sucking lightly, and is rewarded with a harsh gasp from above.
He moves past the smooth expanse of skin where a navel would usually be, never more thankful for his boyfriend’s preference of sleeping naked. His fingertips trail along Magnus’s hardening cock with teasing, barely-there touches, until his boyfriend is panting and Alec’s own hardness becomes impossible to ignore.
“Lube,” he grunts, because no one has ever accused him of being eloquent.
A snap of blue, and then his fingers are coated in a cool, slick substance. Clearly, he’s not the only one who’s impatient.
He teases Magnus’s hole open with one lubed finger, his own cock throbbing as Magnus clenches around it. Despite the heat burning beneath his skin, he takes his time before inserting a second finger, twisting and curving them within the hot, tight confines of Magnus’s walls. By the time he adds a third finger, Magnus is writhing against him, and if Alec doesn’t get inside of him soon he is going to come untouched on the bedsheets.
Stilling his movements, he draws in a shaky breath.
Magnus chases his fingers, trying to push them in deeper. Alec places a restraining hand on his hip.
The whine that tumbles out of Magnus’s mouth can only be described as petulant.
“Yes, yes, I’m ready,” he pants. “Just get inside of me already.”
Alec doesn’t need to be told twice.
He pulls his fingers out, ignoring Magnus’s moan. Taking himself in hand, Alec sucks in a breath and coats his cock with the remnants of the lube.
Looking up, he has no doubt that the lust in Magnus’s eyes, half-crazed and burning with desire, is reflected in his own.
Alec swallows, forces himself to remember things such as words and sentences and, oh yeah, breathing.
“You can’t come before I do.” The command catches in his throat.
Magnus licks his lips—which does absolutely nothing to help Alec’s flagging self-control—and nods jerkily.
Alec lifts Magnus’s leg over his own shoulder, positioning himself, and pushes into him. They both moan at the sensation, and Alec is fairly sure he blacks out for a second, hips stuttering on their own accord.
It would be anticlimactic, how quickly Alec loses himself to his orgasm, if it hadn’t been the best, most mind-blowing orgasm he’d ever experienced. It seems almost a gift from the Angels themselves when he regains his bearings, seconds or eons later, only to find Magnus still hard. Something wicked stirs in the back of his mind and he doesn’t even try to rein in his smirk.
Magnus’s eyes on him narrow, but whatever he’d been about to say turns into a heady groan when Alec’s hand closes around his cock and starts stroking it, twisting the head just the way Alec knows is enough to drive Magnus insane when he’s this amped up.
It doesn’t take long for Magnus’s breathing to turn into ragged pants, and Alec knows that a few more strokes is all it’s going to take.
He clamps his hand around Magnus’s base, the other stilling Magnus’s hips when they jerk up in search of friction.
Magnus whines, fingers clenching in the bedsheets and eyes squeezed shut. Alec repeats the cycle, bringing Magnus close to the brink before he stops and grips Magnus’s base to keep him from tumbling over the edge.
After the fifth time, Magnus throws his head back into the pillows and growls, the sound ending in a high-pitched keen. Alec’s own cock twitches.
“You… are a menace, Alexander,” Magnus rasps, breathing ragged.
“You sure you want to insult me right now?” Alec doesn’t wait for a response before giving Magnus’s length a slow, firm stroke that elicits a guttural moan.
Magnus curses under his breath.
“Much as I- ah- applaud your initiative, could you please stop teasing and get on with it?”
Alec hums. He flicks his thumb over the head of Magnus’s cock. Magnus’s entire body jolts.
The look in Magnus’s blown cat eyes practically screams what the hell.
“No,” Alec repeats. He feels giddy, his grin all teeth. “I’m thinking I’ll take you in my mouth instead.”
Magnus groans, low and needy in the back of his throat.
“Then what are you waiting for? I—”
He chokes on the rest of the sentence as Alec, the dutiful, caring boyfriend that he is, leans down and takes him in his mouth.
It’s been a while since Alec last did this, but it doesn’t take long for his throat to accommodate, the feeling of Magnus’s cock hot and heavy in his mouth, so good it’s damn near addictive. Magnus’s hands are in his hair, tugging with just the right amount of pressure; Alec couldn’t stop himself from moaning even if he’d wanted to. Magnus’s hips stutter in reaction and Alec goes with it and takes him deeper.
He presses the tip of his tongue along the underside of Magnus’s cock as he draws out, flicking it over the head and tasting the bitterness of pre-come. Magnus’s breathing is ragged, his fingers twisting in Alec’s hair, and then Alec feels it again: that electrical spark that pulses through his entire being like a current of arousal. Warm desire pools in his stomach and he moans again, hips pushing into the mattress.
Magnus is a shuddering mess above him before long, the thrusts of his hips uncoordinated. Alec knows that he’s close, and he considers delaying it even longer, but he doesn’t have the wherewithal to actually do it. He sucks at Magnus’s cock, hollows his cheeks, and takes him all the way down to the base. Magnus’s hips stutter and that’s all the warning Alec gets before Magnus comes with a strangled yell.
He almost chokes as intense pleasure erupts across-beneath-through his skin from where Magnus’s hands are buried in his hair—doesn’t even register his own orgasm until he’s suddenly collapsing boneless onto the bed.
He pants into Magnus’s thigh, shivering through the languid, weirdly electrical pulses of aftershock. He feels unraveled, shapeless: every tingling atom floating in the air, separated from his body.
It might’ve been terrifying, if not for the pervading sense of Magnus through it all.
“That was… intense,” Magnus comments eventually, voice raspy and breathless. He glances down at Alec with a curious tilt of his head. “And, I daresay, unexpected—not that I’m complaining, mind you.”
“Mm,” Alec mumbles sleepily. His brain is scrambled, still swimming in pleasure. “I can’t take all the credit. You started it.”
Alec yawns into Magnus’s skin. “Let’s just say that I think there are more perks to this whole ‘soul being reconstructed by magic’ thing than me being able to sense energy signatures.”
Magnus doesn’t exactly tense—probably in large part due to the power of post-coital bliss—but he does still.
“Your magic did that thing again,” Alec mumbles. He drops a sloppy kiss on Magnus’s thigh. “When you’re relaxed and tired. But it was… it was much more intense.” He yawns again. “Felt like it was underneath my skin.”
“Underneath your…” Magnus voice is wary, apprehensive in the way that means he’s going to be spiraling into the really ugly part of what ifs if Alec doesn’t stop him within the next few seconds.
He heaves himself up from his sprawl between Magnus’s legs and crawls up the bed until he can press his lips to his boyfriend’s. When he draws back, there is a worried crease between Magnus’s eyebrows that Alec has seen far too often lately, and often because of him.
Magnus’s lips thin in a frown.
“Much as I’d like to take your word for it, I should probably check that for myself.”
“Oh no.” Alec grabs his raised wrist, shaking his head. “You are not doing any kind of complicated, complex magic right now. Remember when you went to summon a glass of water and instead emptied a bathtub’s worth of water all over us?”
“In my defense, I didn’t know that the flexibility rune would also affect your tongue. You can hardly hold my subsequent disorientation against me.”
“Yeah, well,” Alec says, a little flustered but mostly pleased about that particular memory. “That still doesn’t help your case.”
“You didn’t hurt me, Magnus.” He finds Magnus’s hand and squeezes his fingers. “There was no pain, no discomfort. It just felt like you.”
Magnus still looks dubious. Alec guesses he can’t really blame him; for all that Magnus is a master at adapting to whatever situation he may find himself in, he dislikes sudden change. Especially when they might come with unpleasant side effects.
Alec leans down and kisses him again.
“You can check me over first thing in the morning,” he says. “But for now, let’s sleep, okay?”
Magnus worries at his bottom lip.
“You’re sure you’re feeling all right?”
“Because if you’re lying to protect my feelings—”
“Magnus,” Alec interrupts, lips twitching helplessly. “I’m not lying to you. I promise.”
Magnus studies him a moment longer before giving a reluctant nod. Worry still lingers in his eyes, but they’re at half-mast, the skin around them lined with fatigue.
“Sorry for waking you.” In hindsight, he can’t help but think that he really should’ve taken care of it on his own and let Magnus sleep, no matter how impossible that had seemed at the time.
Magnus huffs and waves him off.
“No need to be sorry. I’m certainly not.” He nudges Alec off of him and onto his back, and snuggles into Alec’s chest with a sigh. He doesn’t say anything else, but Alec can hear him thinking: feels the languid flutter of his eyelashes against his skin, the involuntary, agitated twitch of his fingers against his sternum.
He kisses his hair.
“In the morning, Magnus.”
Magnus mutters something about bossy, stubborn Shadowhunters; but fatigue wins out, and it’s not long before his breathing evens out into sleep. Alec knows that the morning will bring a thorough, likely hours-long exam, and maybe he should be more worried about the results it might yield, but he isn’t. Intentional or not, Magnus would never hurt him. He has absolute faith in that.
Snuggling closer into his boyfriend’s warmth, Alec closes his eyes with a sleepy sigh.
Whatever happens, or doesn’t happen, they’ll deal with it tomorrow.