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Alec POV

Things that went through my mind as Magnus's unwavering cat eyes stare straight at me:

Huh?

Me?

Oh hell, he means me.

Okay, okay...NO NOT OKAY

STAY CALM ALEC

I look like an idiot.

Just look away.

And instead of doing any of those things the best I can managed is a, "Hmsghf?"

Holy fuck Alec, that wasn't even English. Shit, shit, shit. He doesn't even know who you are. He thinks he's just hitting on someone at a bar. Okay. I hope my face is disguised by the darkness of the club. The corners of Magnus's mouth twist upwards into a fucking heart stopping smirk. That smirk will be enough to get me off for the rest of my life.

"I'm guessing that's a yes." He leans in closer to me. My heart is trying to pound its way out of my chest. I take a deep breath. Holy shit, he's lips are less than a foot away from mine. If I leaned forward we would be kissing. Okay, focus Alec. This guy wants your balls on a platter.

"You know, you could try being a little more discrete." His voice is caramel and gravel right in my ear. I try to focus on what he's saying.

"Wha-?" I ask. I grimace, I can't even form a complete sentence.

"Oh, please. I know your game. I've seen, dated, fucked your game." His words are water, all slick and smooth, sending shivers through my entire body. Just the way he says fuck makes me want him. "It's all innocent, naïve, pretty boy. It's cute." He drops a glittery, charcoaled wink at me. Finally, I find my voice.

"You don't think I know your game?" I ask him, tilting my head slightly. I think the scotch is putting some liquid courage in my veins and it's coursing through like a wildfire. My body feels like its radiating confidence. I'm the fucking sun of confidence! A familiar nagging voice says you're drunk, Alec. Every single word drips with disappointment. It seeps into my body into I can feel it eclipsing my sureness.

I finish off my drink, tell my voice to piss off, and let the words flow. They're coming so fast Ican'tstopthemIdon'twanttostopthem until I hear my voice say, "You think I'm some innocent twink and you're some bad boy who's going to teach me your rotten ways?" I half slur. The words are tumbling out of my mouth with absolutely no permission from my brain. But I smile like a drunk idiot, because well hey, that's what I am right now. Was that voice even me? It sounded like a huskier, sexier Alec than the one than I'm acquainted with. It sounded sort of suave so I plow on. "I know all your ways. I've seen, dated, fucked your ways. There's nothing you can teach me. Besides, it's Tuesday night. Shouldn't you have something or one to do?" I try to copy his wink but I think it just looks like I'm having a face spasm. Magnus chuckles at me and grins, and puts his hand on my thigh. I put my hand on his back, pulling him closer to my body.

I'm going to combust if he keeps grinning at me like that.

He brings his hand up and tilts my head up towards his face. "I do what I want. Or who." His lips whisper hotly. His lips look incredibly soft and inviting with just a hint of gloss. He's gorgeous and sexy and charming and I want him so badly…

I pull away. I want him to say that he wants me. I want to hear the words come from that perfect mouth. I want Magnus Bane to say that he wants me. Because I'm trivial. I've become trivial. To my father, to myself, to the world. I'm broken, shattered, incomplete. So I want him to say he wants me, before he realizes he picked the damaged vase on the shelf.

"Uh-uh." I shake my head. He tilts his own in question. I reach my hand around his neck and pull him closer to my mouth. I kiss his neck, gently sucking, leading up to his ear. He moans quietly.

"If you want me…" I whisper in his ear, gently sucking on his earlobe. "Tell me. Now."

Magnus groans, a deep primal sound, and I nearly convulse off the fucking bar chair. Suddenly, he puts his hands on my back and pulls me up. Not sure about being jerked to a standing position, my legs sway in disagreement. He leans my body against his so that every part that can be touching are. It's hot skin and flesh against each other, and I melt into him until we're a mess of body parts, connected with one heart beating one rhythm.

He grabs and squeezes my ass, and grinds against my groin. The space in my pants has become decreasingly less roomy since he started talking, but now it's gone from snug to so tight it hurts.

"Believe me. I want you." Magnus says, as he takes my hand and pulls me towards the bathroom.

Magnus shoves me hard against the stone bathroom wall, making my head vibrate. It hurts and I wince, but all the pain melts away as soon as Magnus takes my hands, pins them above my head and starts kissing my neck. Groaning and breaking free of his hold at once, I spin us so I'm pinning him against the wall. I attack his neck with a flurry of kissing, sucking, biting, moaning, groaning, until he's practically begging to be free of the confines of his jeans. "Please." He begs/whimpers. I make a tsk tsk sound and he grinds against me impatiently. My God. He's looking at me like I'm the last piece of chocolate cake at the bake sale. I stop and pull back. He looks confused, but slows down with me and breathes. I can practically hear our hearts pounding together. We're so close to each other our heavy breathes mix intertwine, and all I want to do is not stop, never stop, always be this.

"You." He breathes, trying to get the words out in between his breathes. "Are such a tease." I smile my best Cheshire cat grin, which probably means I'm smiling like I kill people in my basement. He's waiting for The Moment, when our lips finally touch, when the moon will fall out of the sky, when buildings will collapse, when the earth will collapse, because I know we'll unmake the fucking universe with this kiss.

" I forgot something." I say, giggling manically, exaggeratedly slurring my speech to blackout-won't-remember-a-damn-thing-in-the-morning drunk. Magnus pouts, sticking out his bottom lip. I want that lip on my mouth. Alright Alec. Calm down. "Hurry back." He half whines, and I wonder if he has some liquid courage in him as well. "Or I might start without you." Even (possibly) drunk, his every word is flirty-sexy-confident. Un-fucking-believable.

I stumble out the door keeping up the overly drunk facade. I dance-walk through the throng of people grinding on the dance floor, grab my bag on the bar stool and walk out the door.

Magnus POV

I know the grin on my face is ridiculously big and if any person walked into the bathroom and took in my serial killer smile, crazy eyes, tousled hair, they might be inclined to call the police. I pause, I don't even know his name and he's already everything. The way he smiles, the way he's shy but strong, the way his eyes are holding so many secrets, secrets I want to crack open and discover. Just…everything. I can't stop replaying that moment.

He had looked so lost drinking his scotch alone at the bar, I simply had to talk to him. He's a magnet, pulling me in. Why isn't he here right now, kissing me, touching me, melting me? I try to remember his words but my half intoxicated brain won't remember.

Ah, fuck it. I walk out of the bathroom, scanning the dark crowd for those eyes. I can't even describe the color of his eyes. They're bluer than the sun lit sky after a storm, than the oceans in Hawaii, than anything else in the world. They're better. They're iridescent blue with flecks of gold, brown, hazel, white. Losing myself in his eyes will never be enough for me.

Then I see him walk out the door.

My heart is

dropping…

dropping…

dropping…

shattered.

He's everything but I'm already nothing.

I shouldn't care. He should just be another guy, another guy in the crowd of hundreds.

But I do, and I feel my feet walking towards the door, slapping the pavement, calling "Hey!" to his back.

His dark figure stops walking. He has a black leather satchel with him that I didn't notice before. How could I have missed that? It must have been hanging on his bar chair and I was too absorbed with him to see it… He looks back at me finally. Our eyes lock, and while those eyes were misty waters, bright oceans, and summer skies before, they're icy glaciers now, frozen and absolutely impenetrable. He smirks at me in a sneaky gotcha way, and he takes off into the night so fast it's like he was never there in the first place.

A white piece of paper escapes his bag, and lands on the black concrete a few feet in front of me. The dim orange street light reveals it's a profile on somebody. I jog towards it, picking it up. It's about me.

He has a profile on me.

He's not my everything.

He's the youngest, most famous drug dealer in New York.