Alec was reading in his room at the Institute, strands of his black hair falling over his face as he bent his head over the pages. It was quiet - he was aware of the unusual silence, even as he glanced over the weapons manual. The silence was like absolution. Nothing that happened in this deadened stillness could matter. Even the sound of his door opening didn't startle Alec; the noise seemed absorbed - not real. A phantom echo.

Alec looked up to find Jace standing there in jeans a white dress shirt that strained against his muscles. This was anything but a phantom Jace. He turned and shut the door behind him. His movements were tense, and Alec could read the emotions behind them: his parabatai was furious. Jace's anger always frightened Alec, because it so often came out against Jace himself. When he was feeling tortured with emotions, Jace would put himself through anything, anything at all, to make him feel something other than the pain.

"Come here," Jace said. Alec stood, nerves making him hesitant as he crossed the distance between them. Jace didn't let him speak. He grabbed Alec roughly by the shoulders and yanked him forward, pulling him so that their bodies pressed hard against one another. His lips pressed against Alec's with a ferocity that was not altogether pleasant. His mouth was rough, though warm, and Alec could barely return the kiss, there was so much force behind it. Jace's hands gripped his arms, vice-like, keeping Alec still. And yet...

And yet Alec still felt that aching want - that passion that made him accept this form of frustration and sensuality. He would accept anything from Jace, even when Jace was only trying to surround himself with pain. He would accept the death grip on his body, and the weighted kisses that seemed more like an obscenity than affection. Jace flung him onto the bed, shoving him back into the mattress, and kissed his neck, his hands slipping up Alec's shirt. Alec felt dizzy with desire as Jace ripped off his own shirt and bent to kiss Alec's chest...

Alec bolted upright out of his dream, panting and sweating. It took him a moment to realize he was alone in bed, no one pressing him to the sheets or bruising his skin with cold-hearted love. He ran a shaking hand through his hair, guilt washing over him in steady waves. He had a boyfriend. Sort of. He had Magnus. And that was so much better than nothing. It was so much better, being with him, than the years he had spent alone and frightened that there would never be anybody. That all he would have was a futile obsession over a boy who could not love him back.

And he liked Magnus. So why did he keep having these dreams?

Alec got out of bed and threw on jeans and a dark sweatshirt. It was still early morning, and a pale gray light filtered through his window, summoning shadows from the various objects scattered about on his floor. He moved over to the mirror that stood against one wall. It was an old-fashioned thing, all brass and shining reflection. He looked at himself, trying to see through his appearance to his feelings underneath. He combed down his hair with his fingers, part of him wishing that he understood that sense that Magnus and Izzy seemed to have about looks: what clothes to wear, and how to hold himself, and whether or not he even looked passable this way. He sighed, and turned away from the mirror. There was nothing new there, he was the same as always - dark hair, blue eyes, slim for a Shadowhunter, with narrow hips but still decently broad shoulders.

He wanted to see Magnus.

Alec buried his face in his hands, trying to marshal his thoughts, but he kept seeing the warlock's grin in his mind, kept feeling the soft touch of his hands roving over Alec's body. There was something about the contrast between those memories and the memory of his dream that bothered Alec, but he didn't know what it was, just that it hurt in a faint way. Resigned to the idea, he put on socks and shoes, then crept out through the halls of the Institute, making his escape.

Alec unlocked the door to the flat. Magnus had given him the key just a couple weeks ago, and Alec had had nothing to give him in return, except wordless thanks. He came in and shut the door behind him, and Chairman Meow came sauntering over, looking for attention.

"Alec, my darling, what a surprise."

Magnus was sitting at a long table (he seemed to have new furniture every time Alec came over), papers spread out before him. His dark hair was spiked as usual, this time with a gel that made his hair glitter in the light. He wore jeans that were more the shreds of jeans, the artful tears revealing much of his skin. His deep v-neck shirt was the brightest purple Alec had ever seen, and it completed what was - for Magnus - a rather subdued outfit.

"Hi," said Alec, a bit awkwardly. Magnus hadn't looked up from the papers. "I just thought I'd come by, since we haven't seen each other for awhile. But if you're busy... I don't want to interrupt you."

Magnus raised his eyes to smile at Alec, as if he were fond of his rambling. "You don't need an excuse to come over, Alexander. Although I'm afraid this is going to is going to take a me a minute to finish."

Alec came to look over his shoulder. "What are you working on?"

Magnus waved his hand airily. "Oh, a minor bloodbath between the Seelie and Unseelie courts seems to be unraveling. Dreadful timing, and it's all very dull. Why don't you have a seat while I finish this?" But instead of conjuring a chair for him, Magnus reached up and pulled Alec down into his lap. Alec was startled, but he let himself fall into Magnus as the warlock wrapped his arms around him.

"Much better," Magnus breathed into Alec's ear. "I can almost bear to read this tripe."

Alec's heart had sped up with Magnus's touch, and he allowed himself to fold his body into Magnus's, relishing the warmth and the act of being held.

"But what does a feud between the Faerie courts have to do with you?" Alec asked, confused. "They're always fighting, aren't they?"

"Oh, I wouldn't say it's a feud between the courts, so much as a little fresh disgruntlement. A friend of mine got caught in between, and he's asked me to petition on his behalf. He says the Unseelie dungeons aren't to his taste. But he always was a complainer."

"A Faerie friend?" Alec asked, then bit his lip. Of course Magnus had friends among the Fae. Sometimes he forgot that he was dating a Downworlder.

Magnus nodded, and placed one long finger on Alec's lips. The touch didn't burn, but Alec could feel the fire that was his magic coursing through the warlock's veins.

"Give me a moment, and I'll greet you properly," he said. Alec shut up. He was content to sit there, Magnus's chest pressing against his back as he leaned forward to skim through the documents. His hand lingered against Alec's cheek, which should have felt odd, but didn't. Alec wanted every touch Magnus gave him.

After a few minutes, the warlock snapped his fingers and the paperwork sprung together into one comprehensible stack. He leaned back in the chair, pulling Alec with him so that their bodies stayed pressed together. "Now," he murmured into Alec's ear, his lips grazing skin, his voice almost a pur. "Where were we?"

"I've missed you," Alec said, not quite realizing the words were true until he'd said them. Magnus looked pleased. "Things are so hellish right now, at the Institute. I should be there, really, helping, but I..." he looked down, away from the intensity of Magnus's gaze. "I just wanted to see you," he ended in a whisper.

He felt Magnus's lips press lightly into his hair, could feel his smile as his mouth lingered there for a second. "I'm glad you hadn't forgotten me. I was beginning to wonder if you'd..." his mouth went from Alec's hair to his ear again. "...Run off..." and down to his neck. "...With some..." and the base of his neck and shoulder. "Poor unfortunate soul who isn't aware that I would track him down and fry him into bits," he finished.

Alec laughed. "I'll have to warn off all my suitors, then," he said.

"Yes, you had better."

This was what was missing from his dreams, Alec realized: the feeling of being wanted. Even in his sleep, he knew that the only even remotely plausible reason for Jace to touch him would be a desire to hurt himself, and to hurt himself through destroying the ones he loved. Even in his most hopeless fantasies, Alec could not see Jace looking at him the way Magnus did, with such a possessive want.

"I miss you too," Magnus said, and pressed his lips to Alec's, gently but not without passion. Alec met the kiss eagerly, still marveling in the feel of it. They had kissed so much, and yet each time was a novelty all over again.

Jace was fire, Alec thought as Magnus pulled away. Jace was fire and brimstone and the rushing sweep of flame across open ground. He was like a vision of the apocalypse, the heavens raining down fire to purge the earth.

And Magnus was... well, Magnus. How else could Alec put it? The High Warlock of Brooklyn, hundreds of years old, and still somehow interested in an eighteen year old Shadowhunter, who couldn't even tell his family about their relationship.

And Alec realized, looking up at Magnus's captivating cat eyes, that if that were the choice - angry, self-destructive sex with Jace, or this light, wonderful kiss with Magnus - Alec would stay where he was. Magnus hadn't replaced his feelings for Jace, but still, in that moment, Alec was content with the reality that he had.