As the sun went down on Brooklyn, so Alec Lightwood tilted his head down to kiss his husband on the lips.
The light that poured into the room was viscous and golden - it elongated every shadow, so that every movement seemed pronounced and sure.
And Magnus was the only thing he was sure about. The only thing that stayed.
Magnus's eyed were half-closed with pleasure, his irises glowing like precious stones behind his eyelids. He lifted his chin to expose his neck, as if saying, here. So Alec went there. There. And there.
They were a tangled mess on the sofa, all hands and lips and purpose. It was dark now; the only light came from the city outside. It was like this for a while, until Alec lost complete track of time. Then he felt a sudden, hot spark on his arm.
It wasn't painful, the way that static electricity wasn't painful. Magnus had his other hand on Alec's waist. For a split second, Alec felt the same sensation there.
It was Magnus who pulled away first. "Alexander..." His hair was ruffled, his eyeshadow smudged. "Did I..."
Alec grinned. "Accidentally put a spell on me?"
Magnus looked mortified. "No, it's not that. Sometimes, I just get excited, and..." He trailed off, embarrassed, wringing his hands together. "My magic comes out, when I don't mean for it to."
"Magnus", Alec murmured, wide-eyed. "That is adorable."
Magnus looked up from his hands to meet Alec. He'd expected to be met with anger, of fear. Because no one had called his magic adorable before.
He'd been called a monster. An abomination. But every time Alec spoke, it felt like he was rewriting Magnus's past. When Magnus was with him, none of it mattered anymore.
Magnus pulled him in for another kiss, his eyes shining.