A/N: LOOK WHO IS BACK! I am so, so sorry it took me so long to update. I'm the worst and there's nothing I can say to make it up to you. I'll just let you read the new chapter.
It's time for Alec and Magnus' trip. This is the first part (I divided it, because it turned out super long. The second part should follow soon.) Also, I want to thank ChaseThisLightWithMe for her hard work. You are the best! :3
Take me to your trees. Take me to your breakfasts, your sunsets, your bad dreams, your shoes, your nouns. Take me to your fingers.
- Margaret Atwood, Good Bones
They left two weeks later. Alec left everything in Hodge's – and Jace's – capable hands. It was the middle of March. Their destination was a small seaside town called Whitby, situated in Yorkshire. It was a pastel-coloured, sentimental place, resembling the art of Caspar David Friedrich.
It was a four-day long journey to Whitby, and they decided to take it in a stagecoach. It was quicker, but required more preparations. To avoid questions or potential theft (which weren't rare at the time), they needed to give up their appearance of wealthy gentlemen. They didn't bring many things with them: two travel trunks; Magnus had to pack a few evening attires for his meetings, but Alec could let go of over-elegant clothing. They dressed as people from the lower class: brown tweed jackets, oxford shoes, newsboy caps. When Magnus first saw Alec in his new attire, his eyes widened, then he started laughing and announced that Alec looked like a proper college student. Alec's cheeks warmed at the way Magnus smiled predatorily as he said that, but he also felt a little pang of old regret. He used to want to go to college. Unfortunately, his parents didn't agree, and at the end, he was tutored privately by Hodge – which was expected, and proper.
The same couldn't be said for Magnus – he looked exactly like a person who dressed up with purpose, who didn't want to be recognized, someone who was hiding or was on the run. His gestures and movements were too elegant, his long hair, not gathered in a ponytail, didn't suit the newsboy cap. He still carried himself with that air of grace that Alec came to associate with him and him only, and he seemed unwilling to let it go. Or maybe it wasn't something he could get rid of at any time he wanted, maybe it was just an inherent part of him. So while Alec felt quite in place, feeling like he was chasing a long-forgotten dream, Magnus next to him, looked like a foreign prince who wanted to play dress-up.
They would spend the nights in various inns, and once they even had to lug their trunks through deserted fields, for the stagecoach stopped wherever its stops were marked, and theirs happened to be in the middle of nowhere. Muddied to their knees, with rosy cheeks and rapidly beating hearts, they would grin at each other, because it was their adventure and they were free.
At the beginning, they rode for a whole day, a night, and another half a day, only stopping for a change of horses and to eat small meals. That was how travelling in a stagecoach looked like, and Alec was quickly getting sick of it.
It was cramped, there were three more people besides them, and they were all squeezed together. Alec had never ridden in a common coach. He'd always had carriages, and once, even a phaeton hired for him, and the Lightwoods alone owned three. He found it difficult to breathe, and there was someone else's shoe on top of his, and a gentleman – if he could be called that – was trying to engage him in a conversation about horseracing. Alec did not gamble.
There was also a lady, seated opposite them, who kept glancing at Magnus in a very flirtatious manner. The old matron sitting beside her – her governess, Alec assumed, it would be improper for a respectable lady to travel alone – kept hissing words to her ear, something in French. Alec studied French, but he was nearly unable to understand the heated remarks, spoken with frantic speed; besides, he didn't wish to eavesdrop. However, from what he understood, the matron was simply trying to take the young lady to task and was reprimanding her. Judging by the tilted smirk on Magnus' face (he obviously knew French), his assumptions were right.
Meanwhile, Magnus just lowered his cap over his eyes and pretended to be asleep. It seemed that Alec's assumptions turned on him – it was Magnus' turn to feel at ease. Alec had no idea how Magnus even managed to fit his long legs inside the coach, not to mention, look so comfortable, or if not as much as comfortable, so uncaring. Their thighs were pressed together, and Alec was almost certain that his elbow was digging into Magnus' side.
However, Alec noticed that Magnus' fingers were twitching, almost as if he wanted to hold Alec's hand. He knew they couldn't. He could just picture the matron's reaction, the scandalized scream of the lady. He knew it, and yet…
On their next stop, when they could stretch their legs, Alec asked the coachman to unstrap his small travel bag from the pile of luggage currently on the roof of the carriage. He claimed that there were very precious belongings packed in there and he would be terrified to lose them. The coachman just looked at him, then shook his head and did as he was told.
Triumphant, Alec placed his luggage on his lap, getting part of it on Magnus' knee. His companion sent him a questioning (and slightly irritated) look, as the space became even more cramped and stuffed – but didn't protest vocally.
When they resumed their journey, Alec sneaked his hand between his and Magnus' thigh, palm up, open, waiting for Magnus to get a clue. They were obscured from the ladies' vision, and the man who was trying to talk to Alec now seemed to be immersed in a paper. It was still incredibly risky, but Alec was determined and Magnus—he felt Magnus' fingers slip between his. He let out a breath he didn't realize he was holding. From the corner of his eye, he saw Magnus smile brilliantly. The lady giggled and hid her face behind her lace fan. Alec sighed. It was going to be a long journey.
On the second day, they decided to stay at the Thorny Rose Inn. They ate dinner in a common room, which was filled with loud, drinking men and equally loud women. The pair ate their meat heartily, using their fingers, and washed it down with ale. Soon, Alec's cheeks were red and his chest felt hot. He saw that Magnus was in no better condition – there was sweat pooling at his temples and in the hollow of his collarbone, where his shirt was hanging open. Why was his shirt open? It was so hot in the room.
They got a room with two single beds, naturally – two unsuspicious college friends, travelling together.
They went to bed separately, but in the middle of the night Alec felt someone trying to squeeze into his bed.
"What's going on?" he asked drowsily, trying to decipher anything in the dark room. The only source of light was the window, and the moon must have been obscured by the clouds in that moment, because it was impossibly black.
"Move over," Magnus' voice said, and Alec, without second thought, shifted obediently, lifting the covers and his arm in an inviting gesture.
Magnus climbed in and snuggled against him – the space was too small for two grown people, but they made it work, with Magnus fitting perfectly in Alec's arms, his back to Alec's chest, Alec's chin hooked over the top of his head.
"Bad dream," Magnus explained into the darkness. Alec closed his eyes and kissed the crown of his head.
It didn't take them long to fall back asleep.
Next day, Alec found out that Magnus decided to hire a carriage for them. It was a post-chaise, painted in yellow, as was customary. "It would be more comfortable," Magnus had explained – and while it was a little surprising, Alec could only be grateful. At least a hired coach would stop whenever and wherever they wanted. And it would be only them.
As it turned out, the latter was the main reason why Magnus had decided to do it. As soon as they left the built-up area, the loud and crowded streets, Magnus was on him.
He grabbed Alec by the neck, turned to him, touched his forehead to his. Alec could feel his hot, quickened breath on his lips, tried to search Magnus' eyes, but his eyelids were scrunched closed.
"Magnus, what are you doing?" Alec asked, nearly whispering, feeling like the situation demanded it, but also remembering that there was a coachman just outside.
"I want to kiss you." Magnus' eyes snapped open. His pupils were dilated. "Can I kiss you?"
Alec held his breath, and then nodded, curtly, sharply, already parting his lips in anticipation.
Their lips crashed not a second later, and Alec let out an embarrassing little sound. Magnus' hand tightened around his neck, the other coming up to tangle in his hair. Alec rested his hands on Magnus' chest, using them to pull him even closer.
Magnus' tongue was expert, sinful in Alec's mouth, giving a single caress to his palate that made him shiver. Their tongues tangled together in what was more a battle than a dance, and before Alec could realize what he was doing, he started tearing off Magnus' jacket. In response, Magnus growled into his mouth and climbed onto his lap, breaking the kiss only for a few gulps of air, then he pressed their lips back together, pinning Alec to the cushions. The carriage was jumping without rhythm, the road bumpy, and the next forceful jump turned their kiss into a bruising one, and brought their groins together.
Alec gave out another choked sound, biting at Magnus' bottom lip in the process. It made Magnus break the kiss at last, and he rested their foreheads together, panting, still on top of Alec. Alec fitted his palms on Magnus' hips, willing himself to calm down and slowly realizing how careless they had been, how much they risked. What filled him with fret though, was the realization that the mere thought of someone seeing them, or hearing them, was what made the whole thing so absolutely thrilling. After all, Alec's blood was still singing in his veins and Magnus still had trouble regaining his breath. Now, with his temple against Alec's temple, his eyes still closed, he wheezed, "Jesus."
Alec chuckled and kissed Magnus' jaw. Magnus then went to climb off of him, and bumped his head against the roof of the carriage in the process. He fell against the cushions, laughing quietly, with one of his shoulders exposed to his shirt, his jacket hanging open, his hair mussed, lips bruised – and he was beautiful.
That night, at another inn (the Red Lion), they once again ate dinner in a common room, but they didn't drink as much. Instead of sitting across from each other, they chose to sit on the same bench, side by side. They ate mostly in silence, listening to conversations going on around them.
At some point, Alec felt Magnus' hand sneak under the table, then the warmth of his palm on his knee. He nearly jerked in surprise, but managed to avoid it, instead tightening his grip on his fork. The cheap metal clunked against his bowl.
Magnus' hand was simply resting on his knee, heat spreading from there, setting every nerve ending in Alec's body on fire. Magnus just kept eating, eyes roaming around the room casually.
Then his hand moved higher. His fingers brushed Alec's inner thigh.
Alec quickly reached for his cup of water and downed it in a few huge gulps. And then Magnus started drawing against his leg. Alec was torn between blushing furiously and laughing, because it tickled a little. At first, he thought they were random trails, but then he saw a pattern. He focused on Magnus' fingers, munching absentmindedly on his thick slice of bread.
Then his eyes widened and he turned sharply to look at the man to his left.
Magnus dipped his head and smiled, a secretive, small thing.
With his fingertip, he was writing "I LOVE YOU" on Alec's thigh. Alec had never wanted to kiss him more than in that moment.
Later, they found out that the only vacant room had one double bed. The proprietor, a gruff old men, had looked at them with tired, heavy-lidded eyes and said, "One bed. You two lads can work with that, no?"
Alec looked dumbstruck. Frightened, even.
Yet Magnus just nodded, smiled and accepted (if only for the fact that they didn't actually have any other choice), "Aye. That wouldn't be a problem. One of us could sleep on the floor."
The grey-haired man nodded, took a key and a candle, in slow, sweeping steps he rounded the counter and led them to their room.
The man was explaining to Magnus that the sheets were clean, and Alec already started to setting up his place on the floor (of course he wasn't going to let Magnus give up the bed), determined to keep the appearances.
Even when the man was gone, having bid them goodnight, Alec didn't stop. A pair of arms circled his waist from behind, and a sweet voice murmured into his ear, "Alec. You can stop."
He didn't. "We can't—"
His hands stilled for a moment and Magnus used this to turn him around. He took the pillow from his arms and threw it on the bed. "Don't be ridiculous."
He was, he knew he was – after all, they slept together numerous times. It felt different, this time. Maybe because there were strangers behind those walls and doors, maybe because he could hear everything – the snores, the shuffles, and he was almost certain, judging by the sounds, that someone was doing something very inappropriate in one of those rooms.
Maybe because he only now saw how Magnus looked in the dimmed light of the candle. He had already started undressing and—
There was no reason to pretend behind closed doors. All Alec could do was stare. Because he could count on the fingers of his one hand how many times they slept together without clothes – still, always at least one piece of clothing between them – and Magnus was already without his shirt now, stretching his arms above his head, his back probably sore after the day-long journey. All this skin. Alec wetted his lips and then Magnus reached for the strings of his trousers.
"I—" Alec stammered dumbly, not knowing what he wanted to say in the first place.
Magnus turned to him, took in his face and then looked at his own hands, realization dawning on him. "Oh. I'm sorry. I forgot myself. It's just, I used to sleep naked, before you." Oh God. "I started wearing clothes to bed so I wouldn't make you uncomfortable."
The sheepish expression on his face told Alec that he was going to leave the trousers on, and he wanted to be relieved—"You shouldn't," he heard himself say. He flushed, chewed at his bottom lip. "Only for my benefit…" He gestured awkwardly with his hands, hoping that Magnus would take it as permission to carry on.
Only, Magnus was still just staring at him. His eyes half-lidded, lazy, warm, and gold.
So Alec, suddenly determined, reached for his own shirt and pulled it over his head. From behind his mussed bangs he saw the gold being slowly swallowed by black. The undershirt followed, and then his trousers. He was aware of his breathing getting heavier and heavier, and Magnus still wouldn't start moving.
It would become a ritual of some sort. The undressing. The staring. Moonlight seeping through the window, giving the whole scene a dreamlike feel.
Alec crossed the room in three long strides, stood before Magnus only in his underwear. He then reached for the strings of Magnus' trousers and finally, the spell broke – Magnus sucked in a sharp breath. But that was all. His eyes, firmly trained on Alec's, stayed there.
Alec manoeuvred the opening of Magnus' trousers, then, lowered himself to his knees, slowly taking the material with him, slipping it down Magnus' legs. Gold was still locked with blue. He helped Magnus step out of the legs, one foot at a time, his fingers caressing the fine hair on his calves.
Magnus' arms, up until now hanging at his sides, found his way into Alec's hair. He tucked a stray hair behind Alec's ear and stared at the beautiful blue-eyed man at his feet.
Alec rose from the ground and leaned closer to Magnus, their noses brushing together, and he waited.
Magnus framed his face with his hands, like he was something delicate, something precious, and kissed him.
When they broke apart, Alec smiled against Magnus' lips. "I love you, too, you know."
They climbed into the bed together. Sleep came quickly, after a long, exhausting day.
They reached their destination on the fourth day of the journey, in the late afternoon. Whitby was inhabited by fishermen and people with romantic souls: a homeland of pale-faced, sad and nostalgic creatures. An old abbey loomed over it, situated on a cliff. The proximity of it, and the miles and miles of water gave out the atmosphere of mystery. It was easy to imagine ghosts wandering the ruins. The town was busy, but the shores were quiet, intimate, immersed in endless, endless blue.
Magnus had said his friend owned a small cottage at the seaside, and he had let them stay there as long as they needed. Alec had troubles imagining why would anyone chose such a pretty place to do business. Magnus just made a face and said that the people he was supposed to meet with treated it as a vacation. They found Britain very… eccentric. Magnus didn't wish to propose anything uptight, so they agreed on Whitby. There was supposed to be a series of meetings – maximum three, Magnus had said – and then they were free to go home.
The cottage was a small, little white thing that looked like it was going to fall apart under a strong blast of wind. Yet inside, it turned out to be solid and safe. A haven.
It was surrounded by waist-high grass, greenish and yellow, that danced and waved in the wind, but there was also a small path leading up to the door – a path that lead simultaneously straight to the beach. The door was painted blue, stark against the whiteness of the walls, but it played nicely with the smell of the sea – salty, fresh, harsh on the lungs; and with the wind that ruffled the new arrivals' hair; and – with Alec's eyes.
Inside, everything was prepared for their arrival – while they expected cobwebs and at least thin layer of dust, there were clean surfaces, furniture still smelling of fresh wood, and fresh wood chopped and piled neatly by the fireplace, just waiting to be lit up.
Thinking of fire made Alec realize that he was, in fact, a little cold. He rubbed his hands together, and Magnus noticed, and offered to start the fire, while Alec could look around the house. There was no servants to do it for them. Magnus said there would be a maid coming here every few days to help them and keep the place clean.
There wasn't much to explore – there was what could be called a dayroom, where Magnus was currently taking care of the fireplace; there was a kitchen on the right, a bright, white space where a wooden table stood in the middle, so Alec assumed the place lacked dining room. He went quickly through the shelves: they were stocked, and that meant they would get to cook together. Alec was looking forward to it – it would be similar to their first days together, when they were just getting to know each other.
Down the corridor, there was a bedroom, with a huge, huge double bed taking most of the space, the comforter blue, the wooden frame dark, and polished wood under Alec's feet. There were doors to Alec's left, leading to an adjoining bathroom: a bathtub, standing on brass lion feet, all so starkly white, and fluffy white towels heaped in the corner. Opposite the bedroom, there was a small room where all the books were, it seemed, with a single, but big armchair and a matching footstool; the walls here were wooden and bare, and it was connected directly to the dayroom. Alec went a full circle.
While the cottage was small, it was cosy, and it was perfect for the two of them. By the time he got back, having brought their trunks as well and disposed of them in the bedroom, Magnus had managed to start the fire. The room was already filling with pleasant warmth, and Alec sent Magnus a grateful smile. His muscles began to relax at last.
Magnus shuffled in the direction of the kitchen, murmuring something about preparing them some tea. Alec followed him, a little quizzical – Magnus seemed oddly in his element, as though it was all familiar to him. Magnus, used to making his tea himself, living alone, in small deserted places that smelled of solitude and long, cold nights. How often did he do it, Alec wondered, how many times had he stayed in such places, when it was Alec's first time? It felt like an adventure to him, yes, but he realized it was all the same for Magnus. It wasn't special, it wasn't even exciting.
Magnus offered him a mug – a mug, just as Maia always made him – of tea, and Alec didn't even notice that he was done. As if able to read his thoughts, Magnus pulled him closer, mindful of their tea, leaning against the edge of the table, and said quietly into his hair, "I've never shared this with anyone."
What exactly was he talking about? Alec didn't say anything, just put his head against Magnus' chest. He closed his eyes and focused raptly on Magnus' heartbeat – steady, as if a little too slow, almost – and even at the moments like this (or maybe especially), he thought it was the steadiest thing in his life.
"I'm glad you're here with me," Magnus said, even quieter, and Alec closed his eyes even tighter. They stayed like that for a little white, until their tea was cool enough to sip on comfortably.
Dusk here fell quickly. They arrived at the cottage when the sun was nearing sunset, and, being indoors at the time, they missed the beauty of the view. It was alright though, they always had tomorrow. The only indication of the sun setting were the wooden floors, illuminated in pink and orange spots of light, temporary spots of warmth, and then it was darker, dark. Magnus had said his first meeting was the day after tomorrow, so they could spend the whole next day fully settling in. Too tired to do anything else today, exhausted by the four-day long journey, they gladly went to bed. They kissed slowly, lazily, until Alec couldn't even remember who was the one to fall asleep first.
Alec woke up to his stomach grumbling and Magnus giving small licks and nips to his neck, and then his earlobe.
"Try and go back to sleep, baby," through the sleep-fog, he heard Magnus say, "I'll make you breakfast, alright?"
Alec murmured affirmative into his shoulder – he was laying on his stomach, with his head pillowed on his arms – and he already missed Magnus' warmth.
He woke up about an hour later, lured by the smell of eggs, cocoa and fresh bread. He dragged himself out of the bed, having bundled himself up in a quilt, and padded to the kitchen.
Magnus was standing there, next to a counter, scrambling eggs and humming some note to himself. The only thing he was wearing was thick brown trousers: his feet were bare, and so was his chest. The sunlight played with his caramel-coloured skin, kissed the muscles rippling with every movement and Alec suddenly felt envious. He wished he had invisible, nimble fingers, and he wished he was allowed to touch Magnus like that, anytime he wanted, and be the one to illuminate him in such glorious light.
Instead, he spoke up, "How on earth are you not freezing?"
Magnus looked up, but didn't stop preparing the eggs. He grinned at the sight that Alec made: a cocoon of cloth, with just a black, tousle-haired head sticking out. And an adorable squint.
Magnus shrugged carelessly, "I don't know, I feel good. I took a brisk walk to the market in town to buy us some supplies." He gestured to the counter: the eggs, the freshly baked white bread that smelled so fantastic, and there was also some fruit. "It must have warmed up my muscles." He flexed his back, as if to show Alec some evidence, and his shoulder blades moved like a bird's wings trapped underneath his skin. Alec nearly groaned.
He came up to Magnus, opened his cocoon, sneaked his arms around his waist, and enveloped him in the warmth. Climbing on his toes a little – he was just an inch or so shorter than Magnus – he pecked Magnus' neck. "Good morning," Alec murmured.
Magnus was telling the truth – the skin on his nape was wonderfully warm, no sign of him being cold, but he shivered nonetheless. "Mornin'," he mumbled, pressing back against Alec.
Alec rocked them together, perhaps unconsciously listening to the rhythm of the waves outside. He had fallen asleep to the sound of them yesterday, at first very aware of it, but now the soft sound was just background music. It could still be heard though, and could be seen in their movements: slow, fluid, peaceful. "You didn't have to go to the market. Alone. You should have woken me up," Alec said. Magnus' hair, scooped in a ponytail, tickled his nose.
"You were tired. And I know I didn't have to. I wanted to." He put down the spatula he was holding, and ran his fingers across the skin of Alec's forearm, which was peeking from underneath the blanket. He announced, "The eggs are ready."
They set the table together and ate breakfast sitting across from each other. Magnus, with a wicked grin on his face, kept caressing Alec's calf with his foot under the table, and Alec had to fight down the giggles. Magnus' touch was making him tingly all over.
After breakfast, Magnus had asked, "Would you like to take a walk with me?" and Alec was happy to accept the offer.
The sharp remains of winter could still be felt in the air. Everything was more austere here, rugged, but also purer. It was easier to breathe in this place.
They headed for the port. The paths, which the cottages were build alongside, weren't paved – they were muddy, with white wooden fences separating what was human from what belonged to nature. Putting up borders seemed fruitless though, it was all entwined here.
In the retreat of the occasional homesteads, they walked close to each other, their shoulders brushing, radiating body heat. However, when they reached the main road, they had to broaden the distance. Not enough though, it seemed, since the long flaps of Magnus' coat kept getting tangled into Alec's legs.
The wind did not seem to stop here. It was making Alec's hair to be constantly unruly. Magnus seemed to stop caring about the state of his hair, for once. He kept his black bangs in a ponytail, even though the shorter hair of his fringe kept escaping the ribbon, ending up in his eyes. It looked messy, but in a careless kind of way that was extremely appealing to Alec. He could pass as one of the sailors, almost. There was a spring to his step, and he would hum to himself in the moments when Alec and him would stop chatting for a short while. He looked more like a pirate, though, with his puckish smile and ruffled appearance.
Soon, they reached the port. The air here was more stale, and it smelled of fish and silt. Despite Whitby being a small town, there were crowds here. Sailors and fishermen and merchants. Women selling all kinds of things: fruit, cloth, soap and oil and chickens.
Magnus seemed to know his way around. But then again, had he ever looked lost? When Alec asked him if he'd been here before, Magnus looked thoughtful for a moment.
"Mhm, it would seem so." They stopped at the stall were exotic fruits were being sold, and Magnus picked a large fruit that resembled an orange in its shape, but its rind was green. "I recall spending one autumn here, a couple of years ago. I was helping a friend, the one that owns the cottage now. Ragnor was here with me, and they got along so annoying well, him and that boy." He sighed, as if a little nostalgic, and spoke quietly to the brown-skinned stallholder, but it wasn't English. The woman replied, her words loud and fluent, and only from the accent Alec recognized the language as Spanish.
Alec was looking between Magnus and the women, partly confused, partly intrigued. It was so odd, observing Magnus in such an interaction, when he looked so at ease. Now, the corner of his mouth was quirking up and he said something back, gesturing towards Alec with his chin.
The woman laughed, and apparently she must have offered Magnus two pieces of the fruit – pomelos, she called them – as a gift, for him and his 'amante'. Magnus looked startled for a second, and then he accepted with a murmur of, "gracias, señorita". Was there a blush spreading up his neck?
They wandered the town for about two more hours, ate lunch at one of the inns in town. Alec caught himself nearly reaching for Magnus' hand about a dozen times. He found it insufferable – not being allowed to do what his heart yearned for.
In the late afternoon, after getting back to the cottage and unloading their trunks, they went to explore the beach. The sand was nearly white here, so fine-grained that it was almost velvety under their feet.
Despite the fact that it was probably too cold for that, Alec took off his shoes and rolled up his trousers. He wanted to feel the sand beneath the soles of his feet. It turned out to be pleasantly warmed from the sun. Upon seeing the look of pure bliss on Alec's face, Magnus followed suit.
Once again they found themselves walking impossibly close, any concept of personal space long forgotten. Alec suddenly remembered how he felt at the beginning of their relationship, when he thought there was a string of rope connecting them together. Now, he realized it still felt like it was there, as strong as ever. And he didn't even want to think what would happen to them if it snapped.
"It's beautiful here," Alec said, his gaze sweeping the horizon, the endless, endless blue. The sea was the colour of cerulean, and the sky was turning grey, undoubtedly in preparation for twilight.
"It looks like rain, though," Magnus said, and in the same moment a thunder resounded in the air. "Hurry, we may still make it before the storm starts!" Magnus had to yell now, his voice carrying over the roar of waves.
They didn't. It was amazing how quickly a storm could develop here. The sky opened when they were about halfway to their cottage, and by the time they reached it, they were soaked.
Alec's teeth were chattering, but he felt amazing. The smell of rain was on their skin and hair, and there were droplets running down behind his collar and down his spine.
Just as Magnus was about to open the door and let them in, Alec spun him around, pinned him to the blue-painted wood and kissed him. It took Magnus' breath away. He could taste the rain more than he could taste Alec, but his lips were warm, his tongue curious and demanding, and the feel of his hands on his hips even more highlighted by the clothing sticking to his skin.
"You're beautiful," Alec breathed against his neck, the hot puff of air on cool skin making Magnus shiver.
He snorted and raised his brow. He was drenched, his hair plastered to his forehead, and probably there were smears of red on the apples of his cheeks.
But Alec took his face in his palms and left a sweet kiss on his lips. "You are."
And he really was. His eyes stood out more like this, the colour of grass finely watered after a storm. They were full of affection, and love looked good on him.
Finally, they stumbled inside, and immediately they started to peel off their clothing. Both frozen to the marrow and desiring at least a warm wipe-down, they looked at each other sheepishly.
Magnus gestured toward Alec, in the process of wringing his long hair. "Go ahead. I want to take a bath before tomorrow, so I'll take longer than you."
Alec cleaned himself and changed his clothes quickly, aware of Magnus standing outside, cold and waiting for him to be done. When Magnus took his place in the bathroom, Alec decided to go to bed, because he was still a little cold and warm sheets seemed like a perfect dream right now.
He laid and tossed in the bed. The thunders outside were unnerving, and they shook the windows in their frames. He thought of Magnus in the room next to his, only a wall separating them. He thought of his skin, and the way it was undoubtedly flushed from hot water, thought of his closed eyes and soft sighs and blissed-out expression. He tried to calm himself and instead looked at the shadows and illuminations of lightning, but it did little to actually slow the rate of his heartbeat.
So instead, he made up his mind.
He left the bed, softly, and knocked at the bathroom door. A beat, a splash, and then, "Come in."
He started with the candles that were nearest to him – he began lighting them, one by one, and tried not to look at his trembling hands.
"Alec?" a confused voice said from behind him, and Alec turned to Magnus.
"I want to see you. Am I allowed?"
Magnus nodded and visibly swallowed, and Alec returned to his task, and didn't stop until there were dozens of candles lit in the room, their little flames wobbling.
He knelt down. Took the wet cloth. "Lay back," he said quietly, and Magnus obeyed.
He started with Magnus' face. With his thumbs, he smoothed out his brows, traced the shape of his cheekbones, the arch of his parted lips. Magnus was watching him closely. "Close your eyes, please."
Magnus' hair was already wet. He gently brushed it aside, getting access to his nape. He rubbed the cloth there, a little more firmly, and Magnus sighed in pleasure, his body going completely lax under Alec's ministrations.
He moved to Magnus' shoulders, his arms and forearms. Took his wrists between his fingers, one at a time, circled the delicate places, kissed the blue veins. He peeked at Magnus' face, and saw that his brows were pinched together. He was trying really hard not to return Alec's touches.
Alec smiled and touched Magnus' palm to his own cheek, wetting his own skin in the process but not caring about it, letting him feel the curve of his lips. The frown disappeared, replaced by a content sigh.
He moved to Magnus' chest, his left hand proceeding the cloth. He mapped the curves of Magnus' muscles that jumped under his fingertips; he caressed one perked up nipple and that earned him a strangled, small moan. It hardened even more under his attention, so he tried that with the other one, then wetted them with soaped water. He studied the planes of Magnus' ribcage, followed the trail of fine dark hair, but stopped near his abdomen. The muscles there were fluttering under his touch, and he noticed that Magnus was griping tightly at the edges of the bathtub. His breathing picked up and now it was quick, choked.
Alec's hand was nearly fully dipped in the lukewarm water. He smoothed his hands along Magnus' legs, causing small waves to appear on the surface. The real waves, angry and loud outside, were beating furiously against the shores. It was all Alec could hear – that, and his own heartbeat drumming in his ears.
He glanced at Magnus again, who was nearly shaking. Alec could only imagine how all of those touches must be affecting him, the sensations heightened because his eyes were closed, the not knowing what was going to happen next and the anticipation making everything better.
He was beautiful, like this. The light of all those candles were illuminating his figure, dancing on the planes of his brown skin. There were trails of water running down his heaving chest. He laid there naked, open, and trusting.
Alec licked his lips, never tearing his eyes off of Magnus' face. He put the washcloth aside, then returned his hand to Magnus' chest, put his palm flat against his heart. There it was, his heartbeat, not so steady anymore.
His hand trailed down, down, down, dipped into the water again, and just as Magnus sucked into a sharp breath, Alec's fingers closed around his shaft.
He was so hard, hot against Alec's palm. For one second, Alec was tempted to look down, but he couldn't, he couldn't. Not when Magnus looked like this: his lips parted in a silent 'o', his cheeks darkened with rushing blood, his hair hanging in wet stripes around his face.
Alec was mesmerized. He started moving his hand, slowly, deliberately, watching Magnus' every reaction. The man was panting heavily, and there was a silent word forming on his lips, until it resounded in a half-sigh, half-moan, "Alec."
Alec's fist tightened around him, and started moving quicker. He bit his lip and studied Magnus' face closely, only dimly aware of his own arousal. Knowing that he was capable of bringing such intense pleasure to someone he loved, was absolutely amazing.
Magnus's eyelids were scrunched tight, now there was a stream of words leaving his lips, but they were all the same – Alec's name. His knuckles were white on the edges of the bathtub, and he started moving his hips, small movements that caused the water to rock gently in rhythm.
Alec flicked his thumb over the head and heard Magnus whisper, desperate, "I'm close, I'm close." "Don't stop."
Alec never intended to. Instead, in a surge of passion, he leaned forward and pressed his lips to Magnus'. Magnus gasped against his mouth, a starved man. Alec could feel his eyelashes fluttering, as if he was fighting with himself not to open his eyes. When he pulled away, Magnus chased his lips, having not got enough of his taste, but Alec didn't let him. He focused on the movements of his hand, how exhilarating it was to finally feel Magnus, hot and heavy and curling gracefully and greedily into his palm.
He wanted to put a candle to his face and stare, stare, stare, read every little thing on his face. Every emotion, every sign of intensifying pleasure. Every flicker of muscle, every sigh and moan and the way he bit on his lip, maybe to keep quiet even though here, he didn't have to. He could look at him for forever. Oh, what a terrifying little thing it was. What a terrifying little thing he'd become.
Magnus' hips stilled suddenly and he screamed as he reached his ecstasy.
Alec was still breathing heavily by the time Magnus opened his eyes. He looked at him through his eyelashes, sated and satisfied and amazed, and Alec full on shuddered. His own member was still sitting heavily between his legs, starved for Magnus' attention. He didn't realize his shirt was already soaked, not until Magnus fisted his hand in the front of it and pulled Alec into a bruising kiss. He then climbed out of the tub, splashing water everywhere and causing a few of the candles to extinguish with a hiss.
He knelt in front of Alec, one of the fluffy towels under his knees, all naked and glistening with water and moonlight. He crawled closer, impossibly close, and he reached for the opening of Alec's trousers.
Alec nearly collapsed against him, when Magnus freed him. "Shh, I will take care of you," Magnus soothed, and guided Alec's head to lean against his shoulder.
There was just enough space between them for Magnus to start moving his hand. This time Alec wanted to close his eyes, but all he could do was look down at his length disappearing in Magnus' fist. He knew Magnus was looking, too. He was leaving small kisses on Alec's hot cheek, little smooches; he was whispering nonsense into his ear, but he was looking.
Finally, Alec's thighs trembled; he muffled his scream against Magnus' shoulder as he reached his pleasure.
They moved to the bed as if in fever, unable to stop kissing and murmuring soft words of affection. Magnus was still pretty much wet when he fell into the bed, and Alec was in no better condition. Magnus' eyelashes were damp, stuck together. There were droplets of water running down his chest, from the tips of his hair and Alec took care of it by drinking them. He used his lips and his tongue and this teeth. They fell asleep tightly curled with each other, because even though their bodies felt hot, impossibly so, the cooling water on their skin made goosebumps appear wherever they weren't touching.
If there are people still reading this story - hope you liked it!
Also, to avoid situations like that in the future - when I disappear and don't really have a way to reach you all - you can find me through tumblr. I'm you-are-not-trivial. If you have any questions or just want to say hi, feel free to do it. (I don't usually talk about my writing on there, but if I see that there's interest, I shall start.) xx