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Alexander Lightwood was not where he should be.
Not that he ever was nowadays- spiritually, mentally, or physically- but now more than ever.
The coins in his hands jangled noisily where they were wrapped up tightly in a linen bag, dark blue and velvety. The night sky was smothered with clouds, the air thick with smog and the flickering street lamps the only path forward through one of London's many crooked alleys.
In the corner, a man was standing illuminated under one of these spasming lights, mouth pulled into a threatening smile as he eyed Alec shuffling anxiously across dirtied cobblestone.
Alec's hands tightened around his thick winter jacket, covering up more of his attire.
In a place like this, discretion was necessary in order to avoid being launched at by a hundred jewel-thieving street urchins the minute you walked outside wearing anything more luxurious than a burlap sack.
Alexander Lightwood was anything if not obvious.
If his hand-made leather shoes and perfectly tailored linen suit had not made it obvious he was of a noble background, one did need to look much further than his meticulously groomed hair, perfect posture, and general air of wealthiness that any one of his class could not help but exude, no matter how humble they may think themselves.
It was this that had him frantically speeding across the rows of houses until he stopped in front of the tall, run-down estate that had made him make a mad dash for his art supplies on the night of his twentieth birthday in the first place.
He did not knock.
Alexander Lightwood had committed this sin too many times to know better than that.
The door creaked eerily as he entered, revealing a world completely hidden from the outside.
Lovers and hungry clients pressed closely to the glamorously bejewelled women and the occasional typically rugged man. Alec ignored them all though, and made a straight path towards the stairs; he was only after one thing.
Alec quickly found the door he had become so familiar with in the past year and a half. It was mahogany, slightly scratched and bleeding with a deep maroon paint.
Alec was convinced he had developed a near Pavlovian reaction to seeing this door- if only because he knew that he would be waiting on the other side.
True to his imagination, Magnus was sprawled out upon the bed, head thrown back, eyes closed, and lounging in only a very short silk robe.
Alec's entire body burned at the sight of him.
He gently cleared his throat, careful not to startle Magnus- though the white-knuckled grip he had on his paintbrushes probably indicated his true feelings of wanting to pin Magnus back further and coax out more surprised noises from his mouth.
Magnus' eyes fluttered gently open and a soft smile graced his lips once he'd spotted Alec standing awkwardly at the foot of the bed.
"Alexander." Magnus sat up and leaned his weight back onto his arms behind him. His eyes gleamed with welcome and warmth as he gestured for Alec to sit next to him.
He held his hand out expectantly and Alec was quick to place the bag of coins into his soft palm.
"I feel no need to count them," Magnus said and placed the bag onto the small table beside the bed, "I trust you not to take advantage of my naturally giving nature." He finished with a wink, clearly enjoying how Alec's face was quick to resemble a particularly ripe tomato from his manor's garden.
"Now," Magnus sighs, leaning back against the many pillows on the bed, "what do you have planned for us tonight, my darling?"
"I-well, I mean-" Of their own accord, Alec's hands flapped uselessly around his head, as they usually did when he was in close proximity to Magnus. "-Just, the usual. Painting. You, painting you." He took a deep breath, "all of you."
Magnus' grin widened to resemble that of the Cheshire Cat on the cover of some of Alec's childhood story books. Magnus had always had a feline quality to him, what with his swaying hips and purring voice, but they only added to his already seductive character.
"Very well." He murmured, and his hands delicately wrapped around the ties of his ornate satin robe, letting it fall open.
Alec quickly turned away, making himself busy by setting up his easel and paints. He knew he had no reason to be embarrassed, after all, he was there to paint and touch Magnus' bare body.
However, he was aware he would never rid himself of the hunger of looking so greedily at the very thing he desired to have most.
✯ ✯ ✯
Their arrangement had started nearly 18 months ago now. The Alec from back then was already a distant memory to the man he was today; hedonistic, possessive, and insatiable for the figure spread out before him.
Alexander Lightwood was not a man easily tempted.
He had been strolling along the winding paths of the city, eager for inspiration to strike and force pencil to paper.
He was a nobleman, next in line to be the Lord of the house after his father. Growing up in the Lightwood manor was a lonely existence, with only his siblings to pass the time with.
In order to establish himself as a 'well-rounded gentleman' his parents had made him become a novice in many trades, all taught by various scholars and trainers who milled about their residence.
He was to become skilled in hunting, archery, rowing, and other dull, unrewarding activities to 'maximise his masculinity and court a suitable Lady with ease', according to his father.
His mother, however, believed that what truly made a man attractive to the opposite sex, was sensitivity.
The ability to portray one's emotions onto the canvas, lay them bare for the world to watch, turn tragic pain into beauty, and offer yourself blindly to another was what she believed, would find him a wife.
So she ordered Hodge, one of the royal painters, to mentor Alec. The rest is history, so they say. Alec had fallen deeply in love with the freedom that came with painting and spent most of his days observing the high society around him and spitting it back down onto the page.
He had always been a spectator; content to watch the world from afar than run the risk of exposing too much of himself. People like him could not chance honesty.
Whilst wandering through the city, his attention had been abruptly pulled to the quiet, bright sounds of laughter, so soft he thought he had imagined it, barely a whisper on the wind in his ear.
He had followed though, and found himself standing outside a tired and weary-looking townhouse. It had elegant bones, and Alec could imagine it being quite the grand spectacle back in its prime. However, age and London in general seemed to have gotten to it, and it now stood dilapidated and exposed.
The laughter sounded again, this time louder, and it drew Alec's attention to an illuminated window on the second floor.
There were two men inside.
One, a middle-aged man wearing an expensive suit and jacket, piling coins into the hand of the other. He had a scraggly grey mop of hair on his head and clearly far too much money to spend.
If Alec had had to hazard a guess, he would've said he was a banker or something just as pallid. He wasn't what caught Alec's attention though.
It was the other man, much younger than the first, hip cocked out to the side and gaze flickering around the room in boredom or nervousness, Alec could not tell.
His skin was a gorgeous golden brown, unlike Alec had ever seen before, the lights from above bouncing off him, bathing him in a luminous halo. He had elegant features, delicate and pretty. Thick, black curls fell around his eyes, looking soft to the touch.
And it was his eyes that entranced Alec the most. They were smudged with some kind of makeup, dark and smoky. It made his already piercing eyes cut twice as sharp, only gentled by the natural warmth in them.
The top of his chest was exposed, on show to any wandering eyes. The only thing saving the rest of his modesty was a luxurious gown wrapped snugly around his slight and slender frame, clinging to the undulating curves of his body.
(Alec didn't even know his name, yet was already aware that a vital piece of his heart had been given to the angel in the window).
Alec watched, mesmerised as the older gentleman slowly peeled the gown away, leaving the beautiful boy standing there as unveiled as the day he was born.
He couldn't believe what he was seeing, even less so when the older man dragged the younger forward roughly and brought their lips together.
He felt debauched just looking, full of sin and perverted as he watched the younger man be devoured in a selfish show of passion on the other's part.
When they parted, the young man was left lying on the bed, gazing at the ceiling, seemingly lost in thought. Alec felt a longing then that he had never once experienced.
To capture him on paper; his pleasure, his anguish, his longing. To keep it to gaze at on his loneliest nights, all for himself. A piece of this beautiful man, just for him, and only him.
Alexander Lightwood was a man tempted only by the beauty of the man in the window.
And so from then on, every night, Alec returned to the window, watching achingly as the man was consumed time after time by gluttonous customers Alec longed to be himself.
Older men. Younger men. Rich men and poor men. Alec even noted a few women cross the man's chambers once or twice.
It was strange, he had thought to himself, to see all the ugly, sinful parts of his identity that he had desperately tried to press down, displayed so boldly in front of him, like a beacon.
It was forbidden, even now in this modern age of Her Majesty's England, to utter a word about men or women who harboured certain...inclinations.
Alec had been satisfied with the idea of pushing away these feelings. He had planned to go to Oxford, just like his father, and his father's father- only to study art, much to their disappointment. Had planned to live his solitary, celibate, or until a wife was forced upon him at some point.
At least, that was until he glanced at the man in the window.
The urge to paint had never been so overwhelming.
All it took, really, was one glance, one little bit of contact, their eyes meeting through the window, for all of Alec's control to snap like the strings on his miniature harp had done at the tender age of seven.
Only this time, instead of insurmountable guilt and grief at himself, he was bombarded with a needy yearning.
He had been caught.
He had been caught, but those molten eyes only looked at him with curiosity.
And so Alec had stumbled his way into the house and up the stairs, only just becoming aware that this was, in fact, not the man's home, but some kind of club or brothel instead.
Anxious, shaky hands knocked on the bleeding wood, waiting with rapt anticipation. His heart sang as it opened and those beautiful eyes bored into his, a cheeky smile tugging at the corners of the man's plump lips.
"I've seen you watching me." He said, grinning.
"...Oh" Is all Alec was capable of replying.
"I wasn't sure if you were aware of my knowing or just extremely forward with your desires." He drawled, gaze raking over Alec’s torso and back up to his face again.
"No, I- well I was but I just- I just-" He was abruptly silenced by a long finger pressed to his lips.
"Say no more," the man smiled, "I have encountered many a man like you. Ashamed, afraid, even. In fact, I am surprised you even mustered the courage to grace me with your presence tonight."
Neither can I, is what Alec wanted to say, but didn't and tried with all his might to find something in his lust-fried brain better and more eloquent than-
"You're beautiful." He blurted out.
Well. That wasn't quite what he had been going for, but he charged forward nonetheless.
"What I mean to say is that, yes, I've been looking. I think it would be impossible for me not to when I fear I have found the muse I have so desperately been looking for." He whispered, pushing as much sincerity into his words as possible, trying to look back with confidence into the man's unrelenting stare.
"Muse?" The man looked puzzled, his eyebrows scrunching adorably.
"Uh- yes," Alec spluttered, "You see I'm a painter. An amateur, at least."
"Ah, I see," the man said, smiling, "well in that case, I must insist you come inside so you may...admire your muse for a little longer."
Alec flushed and nodded weakly, stepping inside the room. The man went back to the bed, and sat at the edge, patting the spot next to him for Alec to sit.
It was a lush, and instantly comforting mattress. Alec wondered if this was part of the trick too, if the man let his prey lounge on the softness of his bed, only to lure them in with the promise of more.
"I am Magnus, darling." The man said extending a dainty hand out towards Alec. It was dripping in jewels, just like the rest of his body, adorned with glittering rings.
"Alec." He whispered in reply, squeezing Magnus' hand tightly in his own.
"Short for Alexander?"
"Yes," Alec answered frankly, "although that name is only mentioned by my parents if I have committed some serious wrongdoings."
Magnus chuckled lightly, and to Alec, it sounded like honey dripping from his lips.
"I'm sure we can find some way for you to misbehave, Alexander," Magnus assured, leaning forward slightly, his warm breath ghosting across Alec's face.
Alec snorted out a laugh at the other man's words, finding himself surprisingly amused at his antics and minute attempts to seduce Alec the same way he did with every other man who trespassed this room.
Alec was not like these men, however, for he did not wish to take Magnus for the sake of his own pleasure.
No, he wanted to worship him. He wanted to scratch Magnus' pleasure in the most permanent of inks and offer it back up to him. Make him bask in his own glory and beauty, just for a little bit, just a little while, so that Alec could stand away and just look.
Like a Renaissance painting hung on a marble wall. Like a Greek statue in the holiest of temples. Some things were not made to be touched. They were not meant to be sullied by unworthy, mortal hands.
Neither was Magnus.
"Actually," Alec started, looking down at their joined hands, "I was wondering, should you happen to condone it, if you would allow me the pleasure of painting you." He finished, looking back up at Magnus, but not expecting the look of startled shock that fell over his beautiful face.
"Er-I have money of course." He was hasty to add.
Magnus smiled gently at that, clutching more tightly to where Alec's hand was plastered to his.
"That's not my concern, darling." He assured, caressing Alec's knuckles. "With a watch as precious as that, I'm sure you could easily afford a night with the finest escorts London has to offer, let alone someone like me."
Flummoxed by this sudden display of insecurity, Alec impulsively let his palm rest against the silky soft skin of Magnus' cheek, forcing their eyes to lock.
"The moment I laid eyes on you, I was certain you were the most beautiful being to ever bless the earth," Alec confessed, revelling in the slow widening of the other man's eyes.
"It would be my honour to paint you." He continued, lowering his hand from Magnus' cheek along with his gaze, his sudden confidence rapidly fading.
"Then I would love nothing more." Magnus beamed.
✯ ✯ ✯
The first few times, Alec painted Magnus with the robe on. That or he insisted on draping himself in other lavish fabrics.
Alec was quickly working out that his newfound muse had quite the expensive taste, despite not having the funds to maintain this thirst for luxury.
Alec, however, had an inextinguishable thirst for seeing Magnus happy, and so on many occasions, he came to Magnus' room bearing colourful and sparkly gifts, basking in the joyful smile that graced his face at the sight.
Alec also loved that Magnus did not hide these presents away to only be brought out for special events. Instead covering his body in them, so that he became a shimmering, vibrant mess sprawled in the sheets for Alec to smear onto his canvas the entire night.
Not that any man would be able to wear something like that to a special event anyway.
(Sometimes Alec liked to use charcoal instead, just so he could blur Magnus' image, mess him up, smudge at his edges like the khol that stained his eyes.
He wanted to make him imperfect so that only Alec could appreciate his perfection).
The fifth week he passed through the bleeding door, Magnus was still in the process of tying the ends of his robe together once more, clearly having just parted with another paying guest. Alec froze in the doorway, caught completely off guard.
Magnus halted too, clearly not expecting Alec to have walked in on him in a state of partial undress. His wide eyes searched Alec's, perhaps trying to gauge how he was feeling about this development.
Obviously, he didn't like what he saw in there, because he reached for the ties of his robe again, trying to cover back up the lower half of his torso.
Alec wasn't sure what compelled him to do so, maybe it was the magnetic flash of golden bronze skin, or maybe it was the sickening realisation that Magnus was not his to keep and wrap up, but he grabbed at the other man's wrists anyway, holding them in a vice-like grip to his chest.
"I- " he starts but hesitates, unsure how to ask for what he wants. "I was hoping that I could- that you could leave it off..." Alec mumbled, trailing off at the end.
"Pardon?" Magnus asks, a mischievous glint in his eye that tells Alec he had heard him perfectly well and was asking him to repeat it only for the sake of Alec's humiliation.
Magus yelps when Alec quickly pinches his side.
"I said, I want you to leave it off." He huffs out, fiddling with Magnus' robe to avoid looking him in the eye.
A hand slid under Alec's chin and his face was tilted up to meet Magnus' radiant expression.
He kept his eyes on Alec as his hands slowly travelled downwards to unravel the tangle of fabric at his hips, gradually pulling the gown to let his tanned skin peek out from beneath, spilling out like hot, syrupy caramel.
The robe dropped to the floor, spooling around Magnus' feet and leaving him standing utterly naked in front of Alec.
The matter of the fact was, Alec had seen him like this before, observed his form moving gracefully around through the window each night.
But this felt different, set Alec's blood on fire more furiously than before because Alec was no longer looking at Magnus like this superior, god-like being, encased behind glass and untouchable to Alec's clumsy hands. Now, Alec was looking at Magnus as he offered himself to him. For him.
In Alec's gaping silence, Magnus backed himself up against the bed, laying back across it, and parting his limbs, subjecting all of himself to Alec's helpless gawk.
"So," Magnus teased, "how do you want me?"
✯ ✯ ✯
"Have you ever bedded a man before?"
Alec's paintbrush stilled abruptly at the question, staining his canvas with a rather large and unhelpful blue blob.
"I-wha-sorry?" Alec squawked unattractively, ruffled by the blunt nature of Magnus's question.
"Well, have you?" He prodded, pushing his foot playfully into Alec's calf from where he was extended across a large, patterned armchair.
"No. I-no I haven't." Alec said, feigning concentrating on painting Magnus' lithe frame, which wasn't really helping considering he was wearing a grand total of exactly zero items of clothing.
"Have you ever kissed a man?" Magnus asked, gentler this time.
Alec kept his eyes firmly on the canvas.
"No." He replied.
Silence permeated the air.
"Would you like to?"
Alec breathed out slowly.
"Yes." He whispered, faintly.
(More than anything).
Then Magnus was leaning forward and placing a chaste, tender kiss to the apple of Alec's cheek, warming the skin. His lips lingered for a while, breathing out across Alec's face, and Alec gripped Magnus' arms just as strongly as the beating of his heart against his chest.
Magnus' lips travelled down, down, sliding across Alec's face and just barely nudging at his parted mouth. A ghost of a kiss, nothing more, but Alec's entire body was scorching.
He pulled away just as quickly as he had arrived, nestling back into the cushions of the chair, a small, private smile on his face.
Alec knew Magnus could be passionate. He'd seen it. He'd seen hard, rough kisses and tugging hands and limbs rubbing together.
Yet, at that moment, Alec didn't think he could have dreamt anything more passionate than that. It was yearning in action, hesitation and the universal acknowledgement of a desire for something that could never be.
His lips tingled.
✯ ✯ ✯
The day had been feverishly hot from morning to sunset and Alec, trapped within the suffocating walls of Lightwood manor, had been slowly melting in his bulky, preposterous day clothes, bored out of his mind as the proceedings of his family croquet game unfolded in front of him.
Isabelle was leading of course; she'd always been a fine sportswoman no matter what their parents had to say about the matter, and Jace stubbornly tailing in second.
Alec was content to simply breeze through this afternoon as drama-free as possible, so he wasn't exerting himself too hard, eager for it to end soon regardless.
Besides, he had an appointment waiting for him; it was Saturday after all. The day he treasured most of the seven in the week because that meant he got to see Magnus.
"-Don't be so absurd, Jace, that was nowhere near close to going in!"
"Excuse you! I'll have you know young lady, that my aim has been perfected to that of a hawk, I possess precision you will never know the meaning of."
"That's great and all Jace, but maybe if you could extend some of your 'oh so perfect' aim to the shared bathrooms, I would be more inclined to go easy on you."
Alec rolled his eyes painfully hard listening to his squabbling siblings, and tried his hardest to tune the world out so that he was able to retreat into the peaceful bliss of his own head.
In there he had many carefully stored away fantasies especially for moments like these, a few of them involving his muse. No not a few, all of them if he was being honest with himself.
Except maybe the one where he has his head buried deep into a book, secluded in the very back of Lightwood Manor's very expansive library.
Although, he wouldn't mind having Magnus there with him too, pressed in his lap or curled up to his side, reading against his shoulder, as rain patters against the window panes, giving them the excuse to remain trapped together in their own bubble a little while longer.
The day passed quicker after that, though the heat did not relent, and by the time Alec was in Magnus' room, sweat was running in thick drops down his neck and forehead.
Magnus seemed to be in a similar state, his legs damp where they were pressed against the bedding. He was cooling himself with one of those lace fans Alec could find in the hands of any noble lady at one of his family's balls, only looking much prettier.
He got up from the bed and began rummaging through his many clothes kept securely in an old, beat-up chest of draws that Alec suspected were older than Queen Victoria herself.
He appeared to have given up on his search and then tore the draw from the chest suddenly, padding back over to the bed to dump the contents back down onto the duvet, leaving mountains of jewels and scraps of lace flared out across the bedspread.
"Pick," Magnus commanded, nudging Alec's hand wear it lay at his side.
"I'm sorry?" Alec replied, slightly baffled.
"Pick. If I'm going to have to sit through this ghastly heat, I'd rather do it wearing the finest goods your gracious pennies had the pleasure of buying." He concluded with a wicked smirk, taking Alec's hand and dragging him towards the pile.
"Oh-well I- alright then." Alec spluttered as his fingers danced carefully over the many pieces that he'd picked out for Magnus whilst wondering what they would look like clinging to that buttery skin of his.
He could feel Magnus' eyes on him as he meticulously picked through the pile, searching for something that felt right for the occasion.
He knew he would not be able to touch, but he had always been a masochist at heart, and so he searched with the intent of finding something that would ignite that ache in him.
His stare fell upon an ornate necklace, hidden under mounds of fabric. He held it up to the light to better see it. It was a beautiful diamond, cut intricately into the shape of a lily flower.
It was exquisite.
He held the necklace out to Magnus and let him take it, thumbing over the diamonds and the sleek silver chain that it hung from, dotted with other jewels on its exterior.
"A fine choice Mr.Lightwood." He said, putting the necklace on and letting it rest neatly against his collarbones. "Anything else?"
Alec spent the next few minutes looking again and eventually ended up wrapping parts of Magnus' body up in a tight black lace, loving the way it contrasted against his skin.
Magnus lay back and Alec got to work, mixing colours and recreating the image that lay before him.
Magnus looked ever the picture of total serenity. His eyes were closed, head gently tipped back and his legs spread. The necklace that lay on his chest only heightened his beauty; the gems on the tips of the petals spilt over onto the chain and dripped down to gently caress Magnus' thorax.
He was the picture of elegance.
Whenever Alec painted Magnus, he did not aim for picture-perfect accuracy. He kept his brush loose and his lines hazy. He let his colours run wild and the shadows press deeply into the canvas.
The end result always had Magnus looking even more unworldly than he already was. A sea nymph, an otherworldly creature.
But most of all he appeared like a dream, not quite real, not quite something you could reach out to with certainty without fearing it would disappear before your eyes.
(Perhaps he did this to himself on purpose, keeping himself at a distance, to let Magnus remain untouchable and unattainable because if he ever dared to see Magnus in clarity, he was not sure he would have the strength to resist this untamable pull.)
When he was finished, as usual, he pulled the painting from his easel and walked over to Magnus whilst he pulled his gown back over his shoulders. He held the work out to Magnus, letting him reach out a touch it gently, admiring his own pleasure marked down for him to look at.
Magnus always loved Alec's paintings and often insisted on keeping some for himself. Alec has seen a few of them scattered about on the bottom of the wall from time to time, pleased with the knowledge that Magnus did not hide these away either.
"My goodness, Alexander, you are quite the flatterer aren't you?" He says, turning the painting around in his hands, looking at it from every angle.
"You must let me keep this one, it's simply marvellous!" He exclaimed, throwing his arms around Alec's neck and grinning mischievously, "No one highlights my lower regions quite as gloriously as you do, my dear." He finishes cheekily, pecking Alec’s nose and cheeks with his rouged lips.
Alec blushed heavily and ducked his head, but that ended up giving him quite a good view of the other man’s... lower regions, so he shot his head back up again and thrust the painting into Magnus’ lap.
"Of course, you can keep it," he grumbled, rubbing the back of his neck.
Regardless of any previous embarrassment, the sheer unabashed glee on Magnus’ face in that instant made Alec’s bones melt until he remained a useless puddle of absolute yearning on the other man’s linen sheets.
Magnus took the painting, standing up to place it with the few others leaning against the wall, and then turned to slink his way back to Alec’s side, hips swaying hypnotically.
He stood in front of Alec, looming over him, before placing his thighs on either side of Alec’s and placing himself in Alec’s lap.
"You know," he started, playing with the lapels on Alec’s jacket, "in all my time doing this job, I have never met a man like you."
"How so?" Alec croaked out, not sure how to react to the sudden warmth and weight of Magnus in his lap.
"Well, you have been frequenting my room every week for almost a year and a half now, and not once have you asked to touch me." He concluded, his mouth quirked up and eyes piercing into Alec's own.
"I would be offended frankly, had the desire in your eyes not been so painfully obvious." He added whispering into the shell of Alec's ear.
Alec was speechless, unable to breathe properly, and his hands hovered aimlessly in the air, unsure where to place them without disrespecting the man on top of him. He opened his mouth to speak, to say anything, when Magnus began to talk again.
"You are a strange man, Alexander Lightwood. Never has anyone approached me, a common street whore, and asked for anything other than to take me as they wish." He sighed.
"And yet, here you are, an aristocratic painter, with enough fortune to have me any way you wanted ten times over, and all you want to do is paint me. What do you get out of that?" He took a deep breath and sat back, thumbs coming up to brush at Alec's cheekbones, shaking his head in befuddlement.
"You could still have me, you know." He continued, "You certainly have enough coins left in that bag."
Alec shook his head in retaliation, hands moving to grip Magnus' face just as fiercely.
"You are worth so much more than you believe," he pleaded, "No man is worthy of touching what is yours and yours alone, including myself. I do not wish to take you like so many others have in the past. I do not wish to force my kisses upon you, deceive you with my touches, or even hold you against myself so that you may never leave."
His eyes fluttered closed.
"I wish to receive. To receive what you offer up to me and drink it all in, whether that be on my canvas or the planes of your body."
He dropped his forehead to rest against Magnus'.
"I am a weak man Magnus, but I am foremost a gentleman, as my mother raised me to be, and so I will stay here, offering myself up to you, laying myself bare to you, heart and soul, for you to take whatever you want in return. "
He could feel every one of Magnus' shaky exhales against his cheek, his breath hot and sweet. Alec pushed his hands up into Magnus' hair, grasping at his soft locks, the only thing he would allow himself. He felt the other man's nose nudge against his and opened his eyes to see his muse absolutely ruined.
Red lips parted on stammering breaths, eyes glassy and brimming with unshed tears, frantically searching Alec's face for a sign, any sign that he was not being tricked like so many others had in the past.
"And if I were asking?" He whispered softly, but in the stark silence of the room, the question reverberated in Alec's head like the sound of a gun.
He pulled back gently, and let himself selfishly look into the other man's glistening gaze. He gripped Magnus' hips then and brought their bodies even closer together than before.
"Ask me." He whispered back.
Magnus was smiling almost impossibly wide as he pushed Alec back into the mattress, crawling up his body to murmur in his ear again.
"Let me have you?" he asked desperately, and Alec was only human to oblige, sliding their lips together in a long, languid kiss.
Magnus' mouth was like fire as he claimed Alec's, taking him for everything that he was and nipping at his bottom lip. Alec just laid back as he was pushed further and further into the bed, revelling in Magnus thrashing with passion above him.
They tangled together in the sheets, pulling at each other's clothes until they were both entwined with their naked bodies pressed together, embracing in front of the window for any passing person to see.
That night, Alec felt more free and alive than ever, as he buried his heart firmly against Magnus's. They spent hours joining together over and over until Alec thought he would burst with it.
He would gladly spend an eternity here, with Magnus, in this bed, displayed in a window, with every part of his body pressed up against or inside of Magnus' own.
✯ ✯ ✯
Things changed between them, after that night.
Alec still returned every Saturday to Magnus' door, armed with his art supplies and a smile, and diligently painted the other man.
After, however, Alec would join Magnus on the bed and lay flat on his back as Magnus climbed his body with his own, and Alec would enjoy spending the rest of the night pressed close to his inviting figure, exploring with his mouth and not just his eyes.
(In some twisted sense of the word, Alec found himself converted to that of a sculptor, carving out the dips and divots of Magnus' body with his tongue, night after night).
With this newly added layer of their relationship, Alec found himself becoming even more enamoured with the other man, Magnus never straying far from his thoughts.
He loved Magnus' laugh; a glorious, regal sound that always erupted from his lips as if it shocked himself that his joy could take such a grand form.
He loved Magnus' smile- cheeky and taunting or soft and gentle- it never failed to warm Alec's insides.
He loved Magnus' body; he was surprisingly curvaceous for a man, and his skin was always flawlessly smooth except for the acne scars on his face and moles speckled on his legs that only added to the endearing charm of him.
And he loved how Magnus made him feel. It was as though Alec turned completely to mush around him, much to his embarrassment, for his words never came out how he wished them to, and his limbs always seemed to lose all sense of coordination.
Alec had always hated the feeling of losing control, of having that part of his autonomy stripped away from him, but with Magnus, he felt safe. And with that knowledge, for the first time in his life, Alec was truly allowed to let go.
Alec had always known he would love differently than the other boys.
When Jace and his friends would yapper about the estate, eager to catch a glimpse of some respectable ladies' ankles, Alec was more comfortable reading in solitude or wandering through their woodlands bird-watching.
When his parents had talked of finding him a wife, Alec's stomach had twisted sharply in objection. Especially when he thought about the activities that came along with being married.
For the longest time, he could not work out why his body had such strong objections and thought himself broken, a freak of biological evolution.
Surely, he should want to kiss Lydia Branwell, the daughter of one of their fellow Lords, who had always been a strong contender for Alec in the eyes of his parents. Surely, he should have the desire to bed her like all of the other boys his age.
But he didn't.
Alexander Lightwood was a man broken.
The first time he truly felt the now familiar stirring in his gut was when he was covertly peeking through his father's medical books in his office and fell upon the page outlining the male anatomy.
That had started to make the picture slightly clearer for Alec, although not by much, because he had never heard of such a thing, of someone having those kind of feelings for someone of the same sex.
By the time his nineteenth birthday rolled around, and he had stumbled upon the two men embracing in the window, Alec knew what he was, and it filled him with great shame to admit it.
Now, though, tongue wrestling with Magnus', it was hard for him to find any shame in the matter.
Not when it felt so heavenly.
Alec had never considered himself overly religious. He had never felt that same emotional bliss that appeared on his mother's face at Sunday Mass, nor the need to mutter quiet prayers of reassurance under his breath.
But when Magnus moved his tongue against Alec's, executing a move that made his toes curl, he could suddenly comprehend the need for religion.
Because he didn't just want to worship Magnus like some common deity, he wanted to dedicate his life to him, make it so every molecule of his being was dedicated to pleasing the man before him.
(It helped that Magnus was particularly angelic. Generally when he was swathed in iridescent white fabrics, shimmering with jewels and sparkling with this glitter that he insisted on slathering all over his body.
Alec had no idea what it was or where Magnus got it from in such industrial-sized quantities, but it made his skin appear encrusted with diamonds, so he wasn't complaining very much).
Alexander Lightwood was not the same man as last year.
His existence was starting to take shape, and his purpose too.
He was a man, a noble one. He was a painter, a rather good one. He was a man in love with another man and unashamed. Though, he was intelligent, and aware that he could not be frivolous with his adoration.
He knew he and Magnus could never love each other openly like he would be able to with a girl like Lydia Branwell. He knew this and yet the thought still stung just as much.
He longed with all of his being to spoil Magnus flippantly. Find a large house for the two of them to live together in, with vast grounds so he could take long walks with his love, paint him in every corner of their estate and then wreck him in every spot too.
The thought that that could never be gave his nights almost as much grief as not having Magnus' warm body lying against his as he drifted into sleep.
There was also the fact that Magnus would never truly be his.
Magnus sold his body to strangers every night, giving himself away easily to be taken by other's selfish desires.
Alec was even more selfish than all of them combined for wanting Magnus all to himself.
The thought that other people had touched and kissed Magnus the same way he did always made all the blood drain from his face. He was acting nonsensical though. He paid Magnus too for his company.
Sure, at first it was only to paint him, but now he took more than that with every visit.
He was taking. Taking what he wanted, taking too much. Just like all the others, just like he promised he would never do.
He knew he could not remain suspended in his own self-indulgent fantasy for much longer, not without spilling his true feelings to Magnus and irreparably damaging their already fragile relationship.
He wouldn't have to for much longer, for it ended up out in the open anyway on the night of his twentieth birthday.
✯ ✯ ✯
The time was ten o'clock at night and the sun was long hidden behind London's expansive skyline, only a few stars and flickering street lamps gently lighting their little secluded corner of the world.
Except for the candles that sat on the nightstand by Magnus' bed, whose light oscillated with the draft through the door, creating shadows and sharp angles, dips and curves that moved over Magnus' body like waves.
It was an entrancing sight, and even more magnificent to paint. Alec could not have asked for a better present for his birthday. Watching the unwrapping had been rather pleasing too.
He was just putting the final touches on that night's painting when Magnus started to shift around slightly, something Alec had been clear he should not be doing, because he was still a perfectionist and control freak at heart, love be damned.
All Magnus had to do was lay there looking every bit as bewitching as Le génie du mal, but no, he just had to spread his legs wide apart on the bed, clearly trying to get comfortable but also giving Alec a very good view of what was between them.
He felt his mouth go dry considerably quickly, parched for something much more impure than water. He looked back to his painting. It could wait until later.
With that, he strode towards the bed with determination, reaching Magnus where he was laying flat on his back and slotting in between his legs to capture his mouth with his own.
Magnus let out a noise of surprise that turned into a long, drawn-out moan when Alec pried his mouth open to make their tongues meet in a passionate kiss.
Alec's hands slid all along Magnus' body, grasping at his hips and squeezing the flesh between his fingers. He moved his mouth downwards to kiss his jaw, peppering them along the clean-shaven skin.
"Alec-" Magnus choked out, but Alec ignored him to mouth at his neck, bruising it and sucking marks into the swollen flesh, feeling the all too familiar urge to claim bubble up under the surface.
Magnus smelled of something musky and exotic, like spices and fresh flowers. He knew his love owned many perfuming oils, but there was always an underlying scent of Magnus that clung to the other man. It was dangerously intoxicating.
Magnus' desperate pants were hot against Alec's ear and his fingers clutched at his back so forcibly that scratch marks were beginning to appear.
Alec reached backwards to grab Magnus' hands, tangling their fingers together and forcing them above the other man's head, pinning them there.
Their lips began to move more passionately as Alec's kisses strayed lower, Magnus' moans getting progressively more unhinged and needy.
He released Magnus' hands to push up under his thighs, pressing them to his stomach. Alec tugged and kneaded the flesh in his hold, marvelled by the way Magnus' body swiftly moulded to accommodate his own.
He moved lower between Magnus' legs and bowed his head to mouth at the inside of his thighs, littering kisses up and down the sensitive skin there.
"Alexander," Magnus keened into his touch, wriggling around above Alec, fighting against the firm grip he had on him.
His hips stuttered upwards abortively, searching for friction in the onslaught of pleasure and his hands thrust themselves into Alec's hair, pulling harshly on the strands. He attempted to use his grip to pull Alec's head to where he needed him most, but Alec resisted, biting sharply at Magnus' left thigh instead.
Magnus groaned and threw his head back against the pillows, his eyes scrunching shut. Alec's breath stuttered in his throat, looking up at Magnus from between his legs, an Adonis reborn, drunk on pleasure like a picture right out of one of Alec's wildest fantasies.
He was jerked out of his thoughts by Magnus roughly grasping him by his shirt and pulling him back up to crush their mouths together once more.
Distracted by the feeling of Magnus' soft lips against his chapped ones, he didn't register Magnus wrapping his legs around Alec's waist and flipping them over so that Alec was left breathing heavily on his back with a very, very naked Magnus grinning in his lap.
Mirroring Alec's previous actions, Magnus slid his way to the foot of the bed, looking back up at Alec with big round eyes full of mirth. His eyes remained on Alec's as he reached out and touched him through the thin fabric of his slacks, wrenching a desperate sound from the depths of Alec's chest.
He carried on palming Alec through his trousers whilst using the other to slowly ease open the buttons at the top.
He had never known a sweeter torture than this.
Alec honestly still couldn't believe it was real when Magnus reached out and wrapped a hand around him. He had never been touched in this way before Magnus- by anyone, barely even himself.
Alec's entire body shook when Magnus' hand started moving in earnest, sending shock waves up and down every single one of his nerves. Magnus' palms were smooth to the touch and massaged with finesse and expertise.
Alec tried not to think too hard about the fact that Magnus was quite literally an expert at this, probably having done this hundreds of times on readily paying customers.
When Magnus replaced his hands for his mouth, all the muscles in Alec's body stiffened instantly, his abdominals clenching, every nerve exposed like a live wire.
He was convinced if Magnus moved even an inch, all the pressure built up inside him, within such a short amount of time, would snap at once and come flooding out.
"Don't-Ah God- don't move." he hissed, gripping Magnus' hair to keep him still.
Like everything in life, Magnus seemed to take this as a personal challenge, squirming against Alec's hold on him, pushing Alec as far down his throat as he could manage whilst exhaling quickly through his nose.
Alec tightened his grip desperately on Magnus' hair and tried with all of his might to stop his control from slipping too early as Magnus moved his head up and down agonisingly slowly.
He could do nothing to stop the waves of pleasure that crashed over him as Magnus swallowed him down over and over again, their harsh breathing echoing off the walls in the harrowing silence.
Sensing the pressure building again to an insurmountable level, Alec nudged Magnus' head away and leaned down to press their lips in a chaste kiss, tasting himself on Magnus' mouth and pulling Magnus up so that their bodies were glued together once more.
His large hands clutched the backs of Magnus' thighs as he sat up against the headboard, bringing their hips even closer together to where Magnus was nestled in his lap. He ground his hips upwards repeatedly and panted hotly into Magnus' open mouth.
Magnus moved just as vivaciously; his whines appeared unimaginably loud for the intimate moment but made a slow aching heat creep into the pit of Alec's belly.
"I want you," Magnus begged, his forehead plastered against Alec's whilst he grasped at any part of his body within close range, looking more wrecked and ravished than Alec had ever seen him.
Alec would be a fool to deny Magnus anything, so he turned them over once again in their embrace and kissed his way back down his love's body, taking his time to caress each jut of his hips and every smattering of moles.
He used his fingers to open Magnus up slowly, taking his time, and basking in the euphoria of watching his muse's face twist and contort in barely concealed pleasure, an image ever changing before his eyes, yet becoming less hazy the longer he dared to look.
(His dream was becoming a reality, yes, but more importantly, a veil was being lifted from his eyes. It had obscured his vision long enough, and though he had yearned for nothing more than to see his muse in profound clarity- an image fully formed- he knew then that his heart no longer belonged to himself.
It belonged to this strange and beautiful man, hidden behind a bleeding door).
Every vestige of his soul rejoiced in unison as he sank into Magnus' body, being slowly devoured by an all-encompassing heat.
They traded tender kisses as Alec rocked Magnus back roughly into the mattress, fusing their bodies over and over, relishing in the slick slide and desperate moans in his ear.
Magnus' arms came up to twine around Alec's neck, bringing their foreheads together and lovingly brushing their lips as Alec rolled his hips harder into Magnus', grunting into the other man's mouth at the sheer white-hot ecstasy coursing through his veins.
They moved together restlessly, hips smacking together, whispering praises into each other's shoulders, and Alec felt so full he could cry from it.
It felt almost sacrilegious to be doing this.
Here he was, a young man still so afraid and new to the world, hiding his face into the shoulder of someone who, by all means, would not be out of place on any altar, in any church.
Magnus was glowing in his pleasure, just like Alec had spent over a year dreaming up in his head, writhing around beneath him, ascending in all his angelic splendour- too pure, immaculate, too monumental for this world, and yet somehow tucked safely against Alec's chest.
"I love you!" Alec cried out, hips stuttering, "Oh God, I love you, I love you!" He chanted, brain fizzled away long ago and blabbering helplessly into Magnus' neck.
In the back of his mind, he vaguely registered Magnus' gasps but was too caught up in chasing the rapture that tingled up his spine with every thrust of his hips.
Magnus just sobbed harder at Alec's increasingly merciless pace. Reaching across to yank one of Alec's hands to his chest, he grasped at it with an iron grip, before pressing chaste kisses to the knuckles and murmuring encouragements into the skin, an act far too gentle in the context of their other current activities.
Alec could feel that he was close to finishing, his thighs now trembling and his thrusts becoming less coordinated and more of a frantic rutting.
He looked towards Magnus' face to see the other man in a similar state, his mouth hanging open and letting out tiny, silent yelps of pleasure in time to the motion of Alec's hips as he was driven into the bed.
The intensity of their kisses scorched Alec's skin, his entire body alight. All he could think, all he could breathe, was Magnus. Magnus in his lungs and in his hair. Magnus around his hips and against his chest.
And Alec is everywhere on Magnus, surrounding him entirely inside and out. He had crawled under his skin and nested by his heart just like he had wanted to the moment he laid eyes on this ravishing man.
Finally, he was free to soak him in- in complete clarity- touching and giving but taking too. Taking because he found he could no longer resist not to, no matter how generous he pretended to be.
Alexander Lightwood was a selfish, selfish man.
Surprisingly, it was Magnus who came first, his thighs trembling where they were draped rapaciously around Alec's waist, throwing his head back and shaking over and over, his pleasure cresting in a desirous display of debauchery.
Alec followed shortly after, Magnus clamping down around him and letting out a string of broken cries was all it took to make his control finally shatter, burying his face in Magnus' neck as his hips came to a halt.
He let his weight drop and collapsed half on top of Magnus, both of them heaving into sweat-damp skin, exhaustion swiftly setting in.
He was quick to pull away and shift onto his back, pulling Magnus to rest against his chest, sure that his traitorous heart would be easily audible to Magnus' astute ears.
Now in the silence of the room, Alec's lust-addled words hung heavily in the air.
Alec squeezed his eyes shut, feeling them well up against his will, feeling silly and embarrassed at his impulsive speech. He meant them will all of his being, but he also regretted voicing them just as much, because now the very thing he had feared most had ended up happening at his own fault.
He knew Magnus had heard. His words had not been lost in the heat of passion. He knew from the way Magnus was a stiff line against his side, tense and rigid.
He began to move away, sitting up and wiping his eyes discreetly so as not to humiliate himself anymore in front of Magnus.
"Alec-"
"I'm sorry," Alec sat up and tore himself away from Magnus, reaching over the side of the bed to scoop up his clothes.
"I'll leave your money on the side and take my leave. I assure you I won't indulge in liberties and bother you further." He stumbled slightly trying to yank his trousers up his legs, hasty to retire and save any shreds of his dignity he might find back in his room, where he would be free to let loose the stream of tears clogging his throat.
"Alec, just wait-"
"You can have any of the paintings you wish to keep in your possession, they all belong to you in any case." His hands shook as he buttoned his shirt; he could hear Magnus shuffling around behind him.
"I'm sorry. I'm so sorry, Magnus. I've been far too selfish with you, I realise that now." He ducked his head when his voice began to break- there was nothing he could now to stop some of the wetness seeping down his cheeks.
"Alexander."
His face was suddenly grabbed between two hands and his gaze was forced to meet Magnus', only slightly shorter than himself.
He wore an expression of determination- an unforgiving heat blazed in the centre of his eyes and it was pointed right at Alec, steadily drying the tears that stained his cheeks. A thumb came up to brush under his eye, and Alec let his eyes close briefly, his eyelashes fluttering against his skin.
Magnus slowly brought their mouths together, keeping his tender hold on Alec's face the entire time. It was chaste, the chastest kiss they had ever shared, excluding their first kiss, and Alec felt his muscles uncoil slightly, letting his breath huff out onto Magnus' face. He brought his own hands up to rest on Magnus' hips, unable to resist being close to him for even a mere instance.
Magnus pressed dozens of little kisses to Alec's lips, and then to his cheeks, the tip of his nose and the furrows in his eyebrows.
"Alexander, look at me."
Their eyes met, foreheads pressed together at Magnus' doing, breath mingling. His voice was quiet in the tense silence, to not break the gentle reprieve they had built in the last few moments.
Alexander Lightwood was confused.
He was confused because just moments ago he had blurted out too much, too much of the truth. He had bared too much of his soul. Magnus knew that this was more than just a business deal to Alec. He knew that he desired him, heart, body and mind.
Then again, Alec was sure someone as beautiful as Magnus received love confessions daily.
Magnus pulled back slightly to speak into the small space in between them.
"I truly have never met anyone like you." He shook his head in almost wonder, though Alec wasn't sure why. In fact, he wasn't sure why Magnus was still paying him any attention instead of politely shoving him out the door.
"How could you see me, looking at you, and not see it? How could you share the same space as me, make love to me, study me, paint me and notice the yearning etched into every fiber of my being? How can you stand here, running away, after telling me you love me, and not know that I feel it too."
Alec's body jolted at those words. His eyes widened in shock and his hands tightened where they were gripping Magnus' hips.
"But-"
"And before you interject with some half-witted excuse about your unworthiness, need I remind you that one of us is a nobleman and the other an orphan who sells his body. If anyone is not worthy of the other, it is certainly not you, darling." Alec disagreed wholeheartedly.
"Magnus, no-"
"Alexander. I love you. I do. But we come from two very different worlds. I cannot ask of you what I desire, I cannot take away your freedom and luxuries. I may be pretty enough for you to paint and draw, but in time I'm sure you will realise that I am surrounded by ugliness. An ugliness that not even I can remain untouched by."
Absolutely not. Alec willed his brain to kick into higher cognitive function with this newly added information that Magnus loved him too. Magnus, incomparable and unearthly, loved Alec.
"That is simply not true. You must be the loveliest person I have ever crossed, even before I knew you for yourself. There is nothing I wouldn't do for you. Anything you desire from me, it is yours, everything I am is yours. And now that I know you feel as I do, there is nothing, not even God's wrath, that could stop me from pleading to let me love you. I love you more than all the stars in the London sky, more than every messy pot of paint, more than any house, any title. "
He leant down and pressed a gentle kiss to Magnus' parted lips.
"It would heresy of the highest order for me to let you continue talking of yourself in such a manner when I would give up everything I own to have even one more day with you. "
Magnus took a shaky breath in, his cheeks now damp too, and rested his head on Alec's shoulder.
"Alec, you can't mean that-"
"I can. I can and I do," Alec was determined now. He knew now it was not a matter of dallying about feelings but about Magnus thinking Alec would resent him for what it would mean to be with him.
"I have never felt as at peace as when I am with you. Whether we are conversing or in the heat of passion, you never fail to make my heart swell. And I know that I would regret not begging as much as I am now more than anything that would come as a consequence of succeeding."
Magnus crushed their lips together, practically jumping at Alec, pushing his face against his desperately, as if he were scared he would disappear should he not fuse his lips to Alec. Alec grabbed Magnus' legs, quick to lift him from the thighs and heft them around his waist.
"I love you. I love you, Alexander. So much," Magnus breathed against Alec's mouth, raking his fingers through his hair.
Alec pecked his lips again and again, trying to push as much affection into his kisses as possible. They were smiling too hard for it to really constitute kissing but Alec didn't care. The dreamy heat of Magnus against Alec was enough to fuel the fiercest of fires in him.
They remained grinning and satisfied as they tumbled back down into the bed, trading kisses and whispered 'I love you' s.
✯ ✯ ✯
Alec sat back into the armchair he was lazing in, a cup of tea on the table next to him and the newspaper spread out in front of his face.
His lap suddenly became more heavy and he felt a weight settle on his legs, long, slender arms winding around his neck. Soft kisses tickled the crook of his neck and Alec felt his lips quirk upwards, already intimately familiar with those lips.
"Good morning, my love," Alec murmured pushing aside his newspaper to cover Magnus' mouth with his own. Magnus smiled into the kiss, tightening his snake-like squeeze around Alec's neck.
"Good morning yourself." He giggled a happy sound that commonly echoed around their Oxford flat.
Alec quickly deepened the kiss, as usual, he was unable to resist consuming Magnus whenever they were near each other in the privacy of their home or the forest, which was most of the time. He moved his lips hungrily over Magnus' prying open his mouth with his tongue and moving his hands lower, lower-
"Alexander!" Magnus chastised, slapping Alec's hand away and pinching his side playfully.
Alec chuckled and pecked Magnus' lips once more before the other man could stop him, resting his arms around his waist.
"It has not yet reached eight in the morning and you are already trying to beguile me," Magnus mumbled against his lips.
"One can hardly blame me when you climbed me astride wearing practically nothing."
"I am wearing a robe, that is hardly nothing, darling."
"It is when it is undone!" Alec laughed, pressing his face into his love's neck, breathing his favourite scent of sandalwood.
Magnus laughed loudly, the sound reverberating loudly in the quiet peacefulness of the morning. He had always been particularly ticklish around the neck region. Magnus sighed and tipped his head back, a small smile on his lips.
"Do you fancy some pastries from the patisserie from across the way?"
Alec's stomach grumbled at the thought of buttery fruit pastries and chocolate-doused cakes. He had become far too indulgent since relocating to Oxford with Magnus, the scornful eyes of his mother no longer there to watch his every step.
After they had declared their love for each other, they had tried their hardest to maintain a stable courtship under the pressures of secrecy and busy schedules, but it did not last long. Eventually, Alec got tired of only being able to see Magnus once a week without raising suspicions, and then only being able to be together in the four walls of Magnus' bedroom.
Alec longed to walk with Magnus between trees and eat all types of food together at a table in a busy square. He longed to have a home together, to build a family of just the two of them.
And so he had tried to formulate a plan, some way to free himself of the pressures of his title and familial expectations. Before he had met Magnus it had always been his dream to attend Oxford to study art; with that in mind, he broke the news to his parents that he intended to go and follow his own aspirations. They had been reluctant at first, citing he had duties to take care of in the Manor as the next in line as Lord, and if he must go off to study it should be something useful to further his career.
Eventually, they had relented and Alec enrolled himself for the following year's classes. By then, he and Magnus had been together for nearly a year, and it was nearing the date that he would turn one-and-twenty. He and Magnus had gone over to Oxford and acquired an estate overlooking a view of a park and a high street of bistros and patisseries. It was as idyllic of a place one could hope for but, as a nobleman, Alec had no trouble affording the place.
He and Magnus were not foolish, they knew they could not embrace openly nor even hint at there being any trace of romance between the two of them, but in all the hustle and bustle of the city, it was all too easy to be ignored and overlooked. No one here had any time to pay attention to the two men who ate breakfast together in the square every morning, nor at the fact that they both resided in a one-bedroom flat.
Despite the fact that it was not perfect, nor would it ever be in the cruel and unforgiving society they lived in, Alec was happy.
How could he not be when he got to press Magnus into the bed every night and wake up surrounded by his limbs clinging to every part of him?
He got to chat with Magnus over tea and cakes and steak-and-vodka- which was Magnus' favourite meal, despite Alec's disapproval- searching the other man's brain for his thoughts on any matter of relevance.
He got to curl up to Magnus after he came back from a late night of work serving drinks down at a bar, adamant to work even though Alec had complained it wasn't necessary.
Then again, Magnus had always had trouble sitting still, which made some of their painting sessions quite a challenge.
And of course, he got to paint Magnus whenever he wished. Now that he was at art school, he had plenty of subjects to paint, living and inanimate, but nothing compared to lying his muse out over any and every surface and carving his curves into the fresh white of a canvas.
It was practically muscle memory by now; Alec had memorised every single line and dip of the other man's body, yet he never got tired of admiring it, laying it down on the page and looking.
Alexander Lightwood was content.
He and Magnus shared a home, a bedroom, a bed. They had made their own family together, just them.
Well, and Magnus' tabby The Chairman Meow, who he had found crouched grumpily around a dirty alley and had immediately adored. He had pleaded and begged with Alec to let him take it home. Alec could never say no to Magnus, and so they ended the night in bed side by side with a tabby cat wedged firmly in between them.
Alec is slightly ashamed to admit that he was slightly jealous of the cat initially- and slightly still. The Chairman never ran short of affection from the other man, constantly demanding head pats or strokes, and always finding a way to pounce in between them when they were tangled together.
What's more, Alec was fairly sure the cat despised him, as much as cats could do so. He could never make it within two feet of the cat when Magnus wasn't around without getting hissed or scratched at.
Perhaps he wasn't the only jealous bastard in this house.
Grumpy cats aside- who did not resemble Alec's countenance at all, Magnus- Alec would not have changed a single thing about his current arrangement. Especially now, with the promise of sweet treats and a morning with his love.
Alec stood up, taking Magnus with him and spun them around pecking his cheeks repeatedly. He set Magnus back on his feet and took his hand, pressing his knuckles to his mouth.
"Pastries sound delightful," He took in Magnus' state of undress, "though you should- uh- probably put some clothes on-"
Magnus reached up and jerked Alec's head down for a mind-melting kiss, licking and sucking. He took Alec's hand and placed it under his robe.
"How hungry are you?" His voice was teasing and sultry.
"Not very," Alec said, not even missing a beat and Magnus laughed, pulling him backwards by the neck.
Yes, Alexander Lightwood was a very, very happy man.