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The flame flickers wildly for a moment, but it never changes color.
Alec draws his hands over the length of the body again just to make sure, but the magic billowing in his palms remains its familiar vibrant purple.
“Just like I thought,” Catarina says, snapping off her latex gloves, which are almost a perfect match for Alec’s magic. “This mundane did have contact with some kind of demonic origin, but the cause of death was perfectly normal.”
“Which, of course, you knew right from the start. You didn’t need a warlock to confirm that.” Alec removes the shield he used to protect his eyes, scrubbing a hand through his flattened hair. Catarina is the best forensic expert in all of New York. She doesn’t need magic to investigate the simple death of a mundane, let alone the costly expertise of a High Warlock.
“Magnus wanted to make sure.” Catarina washes her hands, making sure to scrub her nails before she dries them on a towel. “There has been a security problem; several, actually. None of it was Magnus’ fault, but the Clave has an eye on the Institute, and there are rumors they’ll launch an investigation.”
“I bet he loves that,” Alec says drily.
“Another rumor says they’ll send Asmodeus Bane as their envoy.”
Catarina sucks in a breath but quickly swallows down what else was on the tip of her tongue as if she already regrets how much she told Alec. She’s Magnus’ friend, fiercely loyal, something Alec admires greatly about her.
“Magnus wants the results immediately. He said he’d stay up until we’re finished.” Catarina deftly changes the topic and shrugs out of her scrubs, her movements tired. “You know the way to his office?”
“Sure,” Alec replies. “Wouldn’t want to miss out on a cheque from the Clave.”
At this time of night, the usually bustling halls are deserted. Most of the Shadowhunters who are on duty are out on patrol or probably holed up in the bowels of the Institute doing—well, Alec doesn’t exactly know. He supposes Shadowhunter things.
The door to Magnus’ office is open, warm light spilling out into the hallway and slicing through the shadows. It looks soft and inviting, except for the rhythmic thud of fists against stiff leather.
The punching bag Magnus is pummeling doesn’t quite fit the eclectic decor of his’ office. Alec always assumed that every room in the Institute would be drab and austere, but here he is, standing between knick-knacks, colorful curtains, and a teal velvet chair that should look out of place amid the dark wood but blends perfectly with the stained glass windows.
But then, Alec was wrong about Magnus, too. There’s nothing drab about the Head of the New York Institute.
Magnus is shirtless, the muscles in his back and shoulders bunching with every powerful hook. It’s a gorgeous display, Magnus’ brown skin flushed and glistening with sweat, making the dark runes etched into his skin stand out even more.
“Got your report,” Alec interrupts the staccato of punches and labored breaths, conjuring up a folder with the details of his examination with a snap of his fingers.
It’s another right hook and several punches in quick succession before Magnus visibly pulls himself together and makes an effort to relax.
“Hello, Alexander,” he greets, plucking a sleeveless zippered hoodie from the back of his chair. He shrugs into it but leaves it unzipped, extending a hand for the file.
“Don’t dress on my behalf.” Alec hands over the folder, licking his lips as he lets his gaze linger for a second too long. “You know I like what I see.”
“Any unusual results?” Magnus asks, ignoring the innuendo.
“No, but you already knew that.” Alec watches Magnus scan the results rapidly, without a doubt taking in every unnecessary detail as his black-tipped fingers are skimming the lines. “Next time, just save us the time.”
“And you came to that thrilling conclusion exactly how?” Magnus lifts his chin and narrows his eyes, but his smudged eyeliner somewhat ruins the effect.
Smirking, Alec holds his gaze and shrugs. “I know a booty call when I hear one.”
“Right, of course, a fuck has to be more important than the reputation of my Institute.”
“Or your position,” Alec jibes. “Everything for the Bane name.” He steps forward, deliberately into Magnus’ space.
A shiver runs through Magnus, but he doesn’t budge. The pulsing vein in his neck is the only visible hint that he’s affected by their sudden closeness. To any of his Shadowhunters, he’d look perfectly in control, but Alec has come to know him better. He can smell the arousal on Magnus, overlaying the reluctance and fear that’s still there even after half a dozen of similar encounters.
The fear, Alec can relate to. It’s been less than half a century since he’s been able to live the life he wants without having to fear for his life or freedom simply because of who he loves.
The reluctance, though, that he’ll blame entirely on Asmodeus Bane and his precious Clave, their goddamn bigotry making everyone’s life miserable for as long as he can remember.
Lilith, he’ll enjoy helping Magnus become the man he’s meant to be.
“Next time, just call me.” Alec circles one of Magnus’ nipples with the tip of his finger, adding a spark of magic that pulls a shocked gasp from Magnus, makes him arch his chest into the touch. “There’s nothing to be ashamed of, Magnus,” he whispers, lowering his head for a kiss, their lips hovering over each other for a long, suspended moment. It’s Magnus who closes the gap, moaning his arousal into the kiss, shivering when Alec pinches his nipple.
Fuck, Alec wants to take him apart and rattle him to the core, but he knows sooner or later somebody will question why the High Warlock of Brooklyn hasn’t left the Institute yet.
Breaking the kiss, Magnus pushes closer. “Alec, come on…”
Alec rolls his hips, their cocks rubbing against each other with exquisite slowness, and the spark of arousal racing up his spine is jarring. Magnus is watching him openly now, a dark, lingering look that’s skirting the edges of obscenity. He’s fully hard, probably has been hard all the time while he was pummeling the punching bag and Alec was wasting time down in the lab.
“Turn around,” Alec orders, his voice dropping low with the slow burn of desire licking at his skin.
“Here?” Magnus gaze flicks up to meet his, his eyes wide with shocked surprise.
“Yes, here.” Alec grips Magnus’ shoulders, turning him to face the desk. Pressing closer, he lets Magnus feel the thick, massive ridge of his cock against his ass, his gut clenching with want when Magnus surges back to meet him with a soft, hungry noise. “I’ll make you come all over your desk,” Alec mouths against the raised edge of Magnus’ cheekbone. “I’ll make you come all over these papers, and every time you’ll sit at this desk, you’ll think about how my hands on you make you feel.”
“Somebody will come and see….”
“Didn’t stop you from going down on your knees in an alley full of demon ichor.” Magnus lets out a deep groan when Alec cups him loosely through his thin training pants. “Tell me you want this.”
Magnus stays silent, but his cock is growing impossibly harder under Alec’s palm.
“Do you want me to stop?”
More silence, but Magnus rolls his hips up into his touch, his body miles ahead of his mind.
So stubborn.
Something hot and feral unfurls in Alec’s chest. If he were a better man, he’d stop and leave. If they were lovers, he’d take Magnus to bed. But they are two just men, separated by centuries of hatred and distrust between their races, bound together by the will to expedite change and unexpected, blazing attraction.
The fabric of Magnus’ training pants is soft and damp under Alec’s fingers, clinging to the hard curve of his cock. “Brace yourself,” Alec says and fits his body against Magnus’ back, letting him feel his weight until Magnus flattens his palms against the dark wood and locks his arms. “Watch!”
They both watch as Alec pushes the waistband down slowly until it rests under Magnus’ balls and inch after inch of his cock is revealed, hard, wet, and wanting. The dark skin of the shaft is hot and flushed, wetness already pearling at the tip. Alec gathers it with his thumb, deliberately adding a spark of magic before he grips Magnus’ cock tightly and rubs his thumb over the twitching slit, rubbing the pre-come right back into his skin.
“Look how wet you are,” Alec breathes. “Have you been sitting here the whole evening, creaming yourself while you were waiting for me?”
“By the angel, yes, is that what you want to hear?” Magnus’ eyes are cast down, riveted to where Alec starts stroking him with a loose fist.
“Hmm, yes. Don’t you have it on file that all warlocks are terrible vain?”
“You’re not vain, just bent on control,” Magnus gasps as he twists his hips, trying to come like this with only the palm of Alec’s hand and the occasional curl of fingers stroking over his shaft.
Sometimes Alec forgets how young Magnus is.
Alec’s own cock is straining against his pants, the throb of it deep and sharp, but centuries of experience have taught him that waiting can be a reward in itself, the bone-deep, pulsing satisfaction that comes only after a long night of riding the edge. Alec doesn’t mind letting the pressure build for a little bit longer, but he can tell that Magnus is only a few touches away from falling apart.
“If you’re just going to bring yourself off, why jump through all the hoops to bring me here?” Alec asks. He lets go of Magnus’ cock, his gut clenching with a judder of excitement at the desperate whine Magnus can’t hold back at the loss of friction. Magnus wasn’t wrong about his penchant for control. “If you’re going to come, you’re going to come with me.”
It’s warning enough for Magnus to go completely still. Alec rewards him with a jolt of magic, lets it prickle from Magnus’ hole over his taint until he can add pressure behind his balls. “Much better,” he whispers, his lips grazing Magnus’ temple. “How does it feel?”
“Too… much…” Magnus’ legs are trembling, and when Alec takes hold of his magic and pushes it deep into Magnus’ body, he’s barely cable to catch himself. “Oh…oh fuck, that’s …don’t stop….”
“Imagine this is my cock,” Alec murmurs, his voice rasping and hoarse with excitement. “Splitting you open and hitting that spot again and again.” Magnus arches his back, every breath deep and labored, a full-body shudder wracking him when the ball of magic inside him throbs and the pressure increases, crying out at the sudden, sparking pleasure.
“Angel, yes…” The desperation in that single word, needy and rough, is hot enough to melt Alec’s bones and every rational thought he has left.
“Like this,” Alec says with an urgent breath. With one hand he pushes Magnus’ pants down over the swell of his ass, with his other hand he fumbles open his zipper, finally freeing his cock. Alec can already feel the familiar jerk at the root of his cock. It takes him two tries to magic the condom on, and then he finally—fucking finally—pushes his cock into the hot, sweaty space between Magnus’ thighs.
“Close your legs,” Alec grits out. Magnus almost stumbles in his haste to obey, but when he closes those tightly muscled thighs around Alec’s cock, there’s nothing but heat and friction.
Alec fucks him hard and fast, lets Magnus feel the strength behind every snap of his hips. The tip of his cock pushes into Magnus’ balls with every thrust, creating searing friction between them that has him wet at the slit and leaking into the condom after barely a minute, his whole body thrumming with the sensation of tight, hot slickness around his cock.
“Alec, I need—“Magnus grinds his ass back against Alec’s cock, his body a gracefully begging arch of pleasure, his cock hard and heavy between his legs. Alec finds him wet and dripping, palms him with a firm grip that shocks a high whine out of Magnus’ throat. He shudders and clenches around Alec every time Alec fucks against his balls, shaking the sweaty hair out of his eyes. “I need—“he starts again, groaning when Alec rubs his thumb over his slit. “—magic… more.”
Lost in his own pleasure, some of Alec’s focus on his magic has slipped. With a flick of his wrist, he summons another pulse of magic, lets it crackle over his palm and fingers before he places his hand on Magnus’ stomach and pushes.
A deep shiver runs through Magnus. His stomach flutters, and Alec jarring up against him, hard and frantic, is all he needs, his hot come stringing over Alec’s fingers to drip onto the desk in wet and messy splats.
Blinking the sweat from his eyes, Alec watches Magnus’ come soak into a stack of documents. The obscenity of it makes his spine ripple with raw need until all he can do is rut into the tight, slick space between Magnus’ legs, pleasure lancing through him like long, bright fingers of electricity, his orgasm drawn out of him in a pulsating rush that leaves him spent and shaking.
Stepping back takes more effort than it should after a friendly fuck. Alec wouldn’t mind staying for another round since he canceled all his plans for a call from the Institute, but as long as Magnus can’t figure out how he feels about his attraction to a Downworlder, he won’t press his luck.
A quick cleaning spell makes them both presentable again in no time at all. If Magnus notices that he leaves the soiled papers as they are or that the door is still open, he doesn’t show it. He watches Alec tuck himself back into his pants but makes no effort to pull up his own pants. Maybe Shadowhunters stumble on each other with their cock and ass out all the time.
“I’ll call you,” Magnus says, rolling the sore muscles in his shoulders. “Tonight?”
Alec nods, and the last thing he sees as he steps through the portal he’s drawn is Magnus dragging his fingers through the cooling come on his papers.