The first party Alec had been to at Magnus's apartment - if walking through the room, watching him talk to Clary, and then leaving with a rat in place of a mundane counted as attending - had been made up mostly of vampires and Fae, and one or two other warlocks. This time, it was clear that the Faeries were in heaviest concentration, and the lack of vampires was made up for by the appearance of a few werewolves. Magnus must alternate, Alec thought, between inviting the Children of Night, and the Moon's Children. It would be the only way to stop his parties turning into absolute chaos, although... Alec glanced around at the writhing (some might have called it dancing) bodies, the guttural howl of the music pounding in his ears, and thought that this was a sort of hell as well. It was so loud, and sweaty, and -

"There you are," Magnus's voice purred in his ear as his arms slipped around Alec's waist, pulling him against his own body. "I've been looking for you."

"I just got here. Sorry I'm late," Alec said, unwilling to break Magnus's hold on him in order to turn around. He knew that there would be no judgement here, no need to hide from the Downworlders who did not know him. He knew that, and yet still he feared the horde of churning bodies, half-hidden by the dark, and faint glittering light. No one glanced his way - or if they did, it was to stare at Magnus, and not the uninteresting boy he had his arms wrapped around.

"You'll make it up to me," Magnus said with certainty. "Dance with me." He moved his hips against Alec, who felt as if he couldn't breathe. He flushed.

"I don't know how to dance," he said, starting to draw away. Magnus's hands gripped him, keeping him where he was.

"Just move your hips," he said, pressing his hands on his waist, directing him with the movement of his body. They weren't really dancing to the beat of the music. Alec wasn't sure if the music had a beat. It was Faerie music, and it was always hard to tell. There was a rhythm to it, and that rhythm seemed to encompass everything, every movement, every breath. It was lovely and beautiful and terrible and loud and melodic and incongruent.

Can their music lie? Alec wondered, as he let Magnus control the sway of their bodies. Faeries couldn't lie. Could the tune lie, when it seemed to say lose yourself, you will be swept into the dance, you will love it?

"You're not bad," Magnus said, whispering into Alec's ear under the music. Alec twisted around to look up at the warlock's face, to see if he was joking. He wasn't. His hands stayed on Alec's hips, and he smiled, his smile a little crooked, his teeth gleaming. Alec got his first look at what Magnus was wearing: a silvery mesh shirt that glinted in the light over a black tank top, both of which rode up over the smooth skin of his stomach. His jeans were tight, and threaded here and there with colors, tucked into the black boots which laced up to just below his knees. There was a great deal of eyeliner and purple eyeshadow, and his lips were tinged with a faint silver sheen. Alec didn't really get the make-up or the showy clothes, but he didn't care much what Magnus wore. Magnus was always beautiful, always entrancing, no matter how simple or ridiculous or tight his clothes were. And he was always interested in Alec, and that was all that mattered.

Magnus reached up one hand to brush some of Alec's hair back from his face, staring intently into his eyes. "Considering," he continued. "How much you hate parties."

Alec hesitated, then put one hand to Magnus's neck, the other to his waist, his fingers brushing against the soft, exposed skin where his jeans hung low on his hips. "I don't hate this one quite so much," he said.

Magnus's smile stretched into a grin. It made him look younger, like a teenager. Sometimes Alec could forget he was immortal when he grinned like that. "Really? You don't?"

"No," Alec said firmly.

Magnus leaned in to kiss his cheek, just by his ear. "Good. Because I-"

"BANE!" Somebody called from across the room. Magnus looked around, annoyed.

"Bane, I am telling you, get your shiny face over here. That vampire bastard Miiren just showed up, and he's taunting the pack." Alec still couldn't see who was speaking, but Magnus seemed to know, because he swore and let go of Alec.

"Damn him," he said. He touched Alec's hand. "I'll be right back."

Alec nodded, and watched the warlock disappear into the crowd to deal with his guests. He soon lost site of Magnus's spiked hair as the people - well, beings - on the dance floor converged and folded in on each other and moved in patterns Alec didn't understand. He felt uncomfortable standing there on the side of the floor, so he moved back to the wall, near the drinks. He looked among the bottles, wondering if there was anything here meant for humans.

"Hello, pretty," a voice behind him said. The voice sounded like wind, airy and crackling and full of promise. Alec turned quickly. The voice belonged to a Faerie man - tall, with skin that was pale white interspersed with patches of pale green. Alec could see his dark green veins through the translucent colors. His arms were corded with tight muscles, so compact in his thin arms that they looked almost like springs ready to uncoil. He had human-like features, except that his eyes were black and his mouth was a deep, dark red that looked as if it would taste of blood. His hair was green, but thick and short, cut like a human's. He had that beauty that all of the Fae had - ethereal and deadly. He was smiling at Alec, his mouth quirked up at one corner, his eyes hard and cold as he moved closer to him. "Let me get you a drink."

"Uh," Alec said. "I don't think any of these are meant for me, thanks."

The Faerie man pointed out a pitcher. "Try the lemonade. It is for humans." When Alec didn't move, he only smiled wider. "And Nephilim. I do not lie, little one. Mortals may drink of it."

Alec didn't really trust him, but the option seemed to be to stand there awkwardly, waiting for Magnus, or converse with this... sprite? Or perhaps he was part pixie. Alec couldn't be sure. And he was right, of course: he couldn't lie.

The lemonade was fizzy, and Alec coughed as it bubbled in his throat, not expecting it. The Faerie only smiled at him some more.

"So, um, who are you?" Alec asked when he had taken a sip of the drink, and couldn't prolong the silence any longer.

"You may call me what you wish. I am sometimes known as Dy."

Alec nodded and took another gulp of the lemonade, wishing Magnus would turn up so he could end this conversation.

"And you?"

"Oh, um... I'm Alec," Alec said.

"Alec," Dy repeated. "How crisp. Direct. It must suit you." He reach out one long finger and stroked Alec's cheek. His touch was cold. Alec jumped, but didn't back away. He felt slightly dizzy, as if, if he moved too fast, he might fall. He put the cup he was holding down. The touch was oddly sensual, and Dy alluring, his mouth so red it almost hurt to look at the color.

"I'm not -" Alec started to say he wasn't interested, that he had to go, but he felt too dizzy. It rose up over him, making him light-headed. The dizziness was want, he realized. Dy grabbed his hands and pulled him, walking backwards, into the dancing crowd. Alec let himself be towed forward. They were almost to the opposite wall when Dy stopped, and put his arms around Alec's neck, their faces inches apart. Alec realized that they were dancing, like he'd been dancing with Magnus, without even knowing how they'd started. Every movement that brought their thighs touching together, or the feel of fingers threading through his hair, increased the dizziness until it was almost overwhelming. Alec felt as if heat were rising up in his chest, pushing him to be closer to the Faerie.

"Kiss me," Dy whispered, his wind-voice sure and sultry.

So Alec did, stretching up to put his mouth on the blood-red of Dy's, his fingers pressing against Dy's chest. He could feel both of their heartbeats.

Dy's lips opened under his, and then the Faerie's tongue was stroking against the inside of cheek, and he tasted like flower petals, like spring. His hands pressed against Alec's back and he was controlling the kiss now, but Alec didn't mind because he just wanted this touch. More of it, until he dissolved into the heat. Something in the back of his mind argued that it was wrong, that there was something else he wanted. His mouth was too desperate on Dy's, though, to think what it was.

Dy pulled him back, away from the dancers again, until they were back up against the opposite wall. "You are exquisite, little mortal," he broke off to say. "Your eyes shine like the truth." He stroked Alec's cheek again. "How alive you are..."

Alec didn't care to hear it. He kissed the Faerie again, shutting him up. He bit his lip, and tasted the blood he had first imagined. The Faerie gasped, and his hands fumbled to Alec's chest, up under his shirt, roving around his body as they kissed. And then down, over Alec's jeans, and then his hand was sliding under them, where no one, not even Magnus had touched him before. Alec had no thoughts except the idea that he wanted to do this until he died. Dy's mouth on his, his hands running along his body, was making him so dizzy he thought he might faint.

"WHAT IS GOING ON HERE?" A voice thundered, so loud that it seemed to merge with the cacophony of the music. Alec payed it no attention, every nerve in his body alive and focused on keeping contact with Dy.

And then a hand gripped the back of his shirt, and the knuckles grazing against the back of his neck made him feel just as alive, and someone hauled him away. Magnus spun Alec around, his eyes burning, sparks licking against Alec's skin. And Alec could only fall into him, kissing him too, kissing him with the realization that this was the something else, this was what he wanted. He felt Magnus's surprise, felt him stiffen, which was hardly fair because his lips were so soft...

Magnus yanked Alec's head back, and even in his daze Alec could see the warlock's confusion and anger.

"Alec," he said.

Alec felt movement behind him as Dy stretched out his long, pale arms and twined them around Magnus's neck, pinning Alec between the Faerie and the warlock. "There is more than enough of him for both of us, Magnus," Dy breathed, his voice carrying softly. "Do not be selfish with your indulgences."

Magnus's eyes flashed, and Alec felt the crackle of energy rising off of him as he disentangled himself from Dy's arms. The next movements were a whirling blur for Alec. He felt Magnus's hand on the back of his neck, and a jolt passing through him, a cooling sensation that seemed to wipe away all the dizziness, and then he was being shoved into Magnus's bedroom, away from the party. Magnus shut him in, and slammed the door between him. Alec could hear him yelling, but he felt sick all of a sudden and had to kneel, not really paying attention to the shouting.

Oh God. What had he been doing? His memories were blurring, they felt too fast. But the taste of Dy's mouth lingered in his, and he wanted to hurl. He bent double on the floor, as nausea washed over him.

"YOU DO NOT TOUCH HIM." He heard Magnus saying, in a voice like thunder. "Do you understand me, you rotten-" his swearing was drowned out for Alec by the rolling of his own stomach and the pounding in his ears. He sank down until his forehead was actually touching the cool floor. There was a sound - a loud clapping noise - and then the music stopped. "Alright!" he heard Magnus call. "Party's over. OUT." He heard the stomping of feet, and the muttering of the guests as they left. Alec swallowed, and forced back his sickness, forced himself to stand and walk to the door. He pressed his hand against it and turned the handle. It was locked.

He sat back down, shaking a little. The magic that had flooded through him had burned out the drugs - whatever Downworlder drugs that had been in the drink - but it forced it out so fast that he felt weak. He put his head in his hands, breathing deep and slow.

The door banged open. Alec looked up at Magnus, and swallowed, his feelings drowned by guilt. "I'm so sorry," he said.

Magnus's anger was like the ocean: endless waves of fury crashing down in relentless, unceasing tides. Alec could see it in his eyes, the flash of power and the idea that he could hold onto this for all eternity. There was no calm to his expression.

Magnus glared at him. "What?" he said.

Alec blinked. "For... what I did," he said. "I didn't mean, I never wanted-"

"Alec," Magnus said.

Alec almost wished he would hit him or yell or something. He just stood there over him, towering in his fierce emotion. "I know you're angry with me, but-"

"Alec," Magnus repeated, his eyes wide. "I'm not angry with you." He sounded startled. Confused.

"But you must be. I-"

"I am now sworn to eternal enmity with Dyion, of the Seelie court, although I will be surprised if he dare comes back to New York again after tonight, but I'm not angry with you." He sat down on the floor next to Alec. "You were drugged, enchanted. I should have told you about the lemonade. It's meant for humans, but the werewolves enjoy the effect it has on them, which is slightly different. It's tempered by the demon illness. It, uh, produces a mere ability for sexual contact, not an overwhelming want."

Alec blushed. "It was so stupid. I can't believe I drank it."

Magnus's eyes flashed again. "Dyion wanted you to. He would have talked you into it; Faerie folk can be very persuasive."

Alec nodded. "What did you do to him?" he asked.

"Sent him to Hell."

Alec bolted up, staring at Magnus in alarm.

"Iowa," Magnus added. "Have you ever been to Iowa in the middle of summer? The humidity will make his hair a nightmare."

"But, I don't understand why he..." Alec bit his lip and looked down.

"Fancied you?" Magnus snorted, finishing his sentence for him. "Because he has always been tempted by pretty things. Especially ones that don't belong to him." He shook his head. "He likes mortals; men, women, doesn't matter. He likes them as long as they tell the truth. A single lie, and they find themselves choking on air."

Alec remembered the wind-breeze sound of his voice, and shuddered.

"A lot of the Fae are like that. They can't lie themselves, and they are fascinated by it." Magnus gave him a look. "I imagine he saw the truth in you. The way you so want honesty. The way it frightens you, but you want it anyway."

Alec said nothing. He felt like Magnus saw him; knew him in a way no one else did. "You know him?" he asked at last. "Dy?"

"Dyion. Yes. He was the one I was helping out of the Unseelie court." Magnus shook his head again. "I won't be doing that again."

"He's a friend of yours?"

"No. I owed him a favor. He helped me once."

Alec was silent for a minute. "Do I belong to you?" he asked quietly.

"What?" There was a startled tone to Magnus's voice.

"You said," Alec went on determinedly. "That he liked pretty things that didn't belong to him. Do I belong to you, then?"

Magnus was quiet for a long moment, neither of them looking at each other. "You belong with me," he said. "Not to me."

There was a long silence, and then Alec turned and kissed him. This time it felt right, Magnus kissing him back, and the want rising up was his own. He wanted this.

Magnus drew back, putting his hand under Alec's chin, and staring down into Alec's face with a puzzled look. "You're not still enchanted, are you?" he asked.

Alec grinned, looking up into Magnus's make-up rimmed eyes and thinking that he belonged. So totally and completely belonged. "Maybe I am," he said.