Chapter Text
Magic burned through Magnus. Smoldering sweetness filled his nose, heat breaking over his skin in a blistering wave. It roared like fire and howled like wind, crashed through his body like the ocean and shook his core like an earthquake. His skin was too tight to contain it. Cerulean sunlight spilled from his palms, barely in control, pulsing with his thundering heart. When Magnus reflected on it later, he would describe the sensation as a key turning in its lock. The click echoed through his body, opening every door Magnus had ever bolted his magic behind. But what he knew in the moment was only this: Alexander was his.
Murmuring praises, Magnus stretched out his hand and pet soothingly along the part of Alexander’s Deflect rune that stood above his collar. His husband shivered under his touch, then sighed, easing. It took another minute of coaxing for his quick breaths to relax. Magnus subtly checked Alexander’s pulse, comforted when the strong beat met his fingers regularly. Ritual magic was not easily borne. It was weighty, a thick fog that stole into the lungs and made changes there. But they had discussed the ritual in excruciating detail and Magnus was prepared to gentle Alexander through it.
The magic wreathing his hands met Alexander’s skin and sunk into his flesh, given the directive to soothe. This gesture was familiar between them, a private remedy to stress. By the time Magnus drew his hand through Alexander’s curls, his husband swayed with his touch.
For a moment, Magnus had to stare. His magic clung to the dark, sweaty strands of Alexander’s hair, glowing, casting Alexander’s face in ethereal blue. His eyes were barely open he was lulled so deeply down, his black lashes making inky crescents against his cheeks. He was gorgeous. Sacrosanct. Holy. And Magnus’s entirely.
Magnus swallowed. Suddenly, even Alexander kneeling at his feet was too far away. “Come here, darling,” Magnus called softly. “Let’s get you a little more comfortable.” He pushed magic into the wards, altering them to keep sound out and their words in. The vows were complete. Magnus’s court didn’t need to hear how he brought Alexander through this next part. They could look up and see at anytime.
As ever, Alexander moved obediently at his command. Magnus still settled a hand at his nape and shoulder, unwilling to miss any opportunity to touch now that Alexander had given him the formal right. He cradled Alexander like that and guided him to kneel on either side of his hips. So tall and so strong, and yet Alexander sighed and settled against Magnus easily, becoming a warm, pliant weight supported by the arm Magnus looped around his waist.
They stayed that way a moment. Alexander tucked his cheek into Magnus’s shoulder, folding himself impossibly smaller. His nose bumped against Magnus’s ear, his hot breaths meeting the side of his neck. Heat coursed up Magnus’s spine and he hummed, curling his fingers in the short hair at the base of Alexander’s skull. He scented leather and clean sweat when he breathed. Alexander, in essence. Magnus luxuriated in it.
Lazily, he tilted his mouth against Alexander’s ear. “Enjoying yourself, my love?”
Alexander made an agreeing noise. “You’re so beautiful,” he murmured distractedly. He blinked, clearing his eyes a little. “You’re always beautiful,” he amended, “but tonight...” He stared at Magnus wordlessly, adoring.
Magnus kissed him, useless to do anything else. “Thank you, sayang,” he said, the words kissing Alexander’s lips. He didn’t care to hide the devotion that must be splashed across his face. If his court took notice, the wise would only respect Alexander more for drawing this side out of Magnus.
The stupid would perish. Such was the way of things.
After a lazy, messy moment of kisses, he angled Alexander’s face up so he could read his expression. Dark eyes met him, sweet and guileless and begging.
Magnus smiled. He tugged on the sleeve of Alexander’s jacket. “Time to get rid of this, darling? It’s a little warm in here.” It was sweltering, actually. Magic burned hot. No matter how much Alexander lived in his leathers, he would be more comfortable out of them.
Magnus fingered the heavy material. He’d been waiting to strip Alexander all night. He wanted no barriers. He wanted to feel Alexander, all of Alexander, and know that the Shadowhunter armour wasn’t there to stop him.
When Alexander mumbled his consent, Magnus snapped his fingers. Alexander’s jacket joined his weapons, disappearing in a wave of sparks. Another snap and his boots and socks vanished, followed by his sweat-drenched shirt. Pale skin and black runes pressed up against Magnus’s eager hands.
Magnus spread his fingers wide over Alexander’s shoulder blades, freshly glutinous for touch. Alexander shivered. His eyes were glassy with want. Magnus wasn’t the only one starving, then. But before Magnus could wind him any tighter, Alexander rolled his shoulders and tipped his head back in a stretch.
Magnus stared, distracted by his bared throat. His collarbones begged for kisses, his low moan asking for teeth. Magnus was caught between the two paths when Alexander pushed it further and slid into a languorous arch. His mouth went dry. Hs hands went to the base of Alexander’s spine to accommodate the move; smooth, dewy skin and hard muscle shifted, silk and steel in his hands. His abs rippled, stealing Magnus’s focus for entire blurry seconds.
He groaned as he rounded back up, meeting Magnus’s wide eyes with an insouciant smirk. “I didn’t get to stretch after patrol,” he offered primly.
“Tease,” Magnus breathed. His cock strained against his zipper.
Alexander replied by pulling closer and grinding his ass down, shocking a curse out of Magnus. His whole body jolted, the friction too much and not enough. Alexander’s flirty snicker did nothing to help, curling warmly in his ear and stoking the fire in his gut.
Magnus narrowed his eyes. He set his palms at the base of Alexander’s spine and pushed down with his thumbs, pressing hard, thrusting up with his hips. Alexander hissed, rocking in Magnus’s lap. He was driving at more, testing what Magnus would give him. But Magnus was fast. Turning his grip tight on Alexander’s hips, he forced him still. “Settle,” Magnus reprimanded. He spread his legs out, making Alexander work to keep his balance. Harder to be a distraction, like that.
Alexander grumbled, stymied. The position pulled his tac-pants tighter, pressing Alexander’s erection into the material. When Magnus reached between them, Alexander thrusted petulantly into his palm.
Magnus snorted. His slipped a finger into Alexander’s beltloop and pulled playfully. “These too tight, sayang?” He weighed Alexander’s heavy cock in his palm.
Alexander shuddered. His eyes snapped closed, teeth sinking into his bottom lip. Red bloomed over his cheeks. Magnus couldn’t help a little chuckle. Tantrums aside, Alexander was such a sweet thing. As if to prove it, Alexander put his head back on Magnus’s shoulder and kissed at his throat, begging silently. Magnus could feel him twitch against his fingers, sensitive and needful. He was panting into Magnus’s ear but he didn’t move.
Magnus kissed his jaw in reward, ignoring Alexander’s nearly silent sound of complaint. “My darling uses words,” he reminded gently. Sometimes Alexander honestly forgot. Magnus took it as a compliment.
Once prompted, Alexander obeyed. “Yes,” he bit out. To hold the position Magnus had put him in, he had to keep his legs wide and his ass balanced between Magnus’s knees. It was obviously taking some effort, his body already tired from patrol. He was open and vulnerable, and so good that he stayed just like that for Magnus despite the challenge.
When Magnus didn’t move fast enough, he fisted his hands in Magnus’s shirt and whined at him. “Magnus, please. Take them off.”
Magnus kissed him again, swallowing down Alexander’s sweet little sounds. “You only ever have to ask, Alexander.” He tugged again on Alexander’s beltloop. Blue sparks whirled around his hips, leaving him bare.
Alexander took a shuddering breath. His hard cock bobbed between them, unrestrained and leaking at the tip. He didn’t touch it, though. Magnus hadn’t given his permission.
“So good for me, my love,” Magnus said, pulling Alexander into a long kiss. His husband collapsed against him, returning his kiss desperately. Magnus broke it only after the nervous tension he’d felt shoot through Alexander when he’d lost the last of his clothes disappeared.
They had discussed this tradition, of course. Magnus would never take Alexander into a situation without his full and informed consent. He never wanted his husband to feel unsafe. Weaving special wards around Pandemonium had gone a long way to that goal. The tongue of anyone who tried to use tonight maliciously would burn out of their mouth. Further attempts to communicate would send the fire down their throat and into their guts. Even if there were someone stupid enough to try and hurt Alexander with tonight’s events, a slow and torturous death should correct them.
Magnus almost hoped someone would try. His curse was a beautiful piece of magic. Such a shame if it were never realized.
Reaching up, Magnus stroked his thumb over Alexander’s cheek. Alexander sighed, leaning into his palm. His skin was hot against Magnus’s touch, his head heavy in Magnus’s hand. His dark lashes rested against his cheeks, soft breaths escaping his open mouth.
Magnus drew him closer, settling Alec more firmly in his lap and taking the strain off his thighs. Alexander made grateful noises, his arms slipping around Magnus’s shoulders. His fingers tangled in the chains hanging from Magnus’s neck. “Gold,” Alexander realised. His eyes flickered, taking in the gold highlights in Magnus’s hair, his nail polish, the colour on his eyes and lips. “For me?”
Nephilim married in gold. Magnus smirked, taking up Alexander’s left hand. He pressed a kiss to the gold band at the base of Alexander’s ring finger. “Always, my darling.”
Beautiful, gentle happiness opened on Alexander’s face. “I love you,” he said. “So much, Magnus. More than anything.” He tipped his face into Magnus’s and caught his mouth in an intoxicating kiss.
His hand slid down Magnus’s chest, twisting in his necklaces and popping his shirt buttons. Nails scratched his skin, fingers wickedly tweaking his nipple. When Magnus groaned, Alexander eased his thumb apologetically over the abused skin. His hand moved on, his warm palm sliding over Magnus’s chest, his ribs. Butterflies flew in Magnus’s belly and Magnus had to end the kiss to breathe. His eyes locked with Alexander’s, trapped by all the shades that made up his hazel gaze.
His enchantment broke when Alexander tugged on the short hairs that trailed down to his cock. Magnus growled, his hips rolling up against Alexander’s palm. He struck fast, grabbing Alexander’s wrist before he could go any further.
“Careful,” Magnus warned. Magic sparked off his glowing fingertips, darting over Alexander’s skin. Pulling his magic back even that much felt herculean.
“I need you,” Alexander said, soft as a confession. He pressed himself against Magnus’s chest. “Please, Magnus,” he whispered. His breath warmed Magnus’s skin, sweet and intimate. “I need you right now, need you in me so bad it hurts.” His other hand came up, tangling in Magnus’s hair. “I need to be yours. Forever.”
“You’re sure,” Magnus said, not a question but a statement of fact. His voice had fallen into a low rumble, his keen senses gone hazy. The demon in his blood purred.
“Yes,” Alexander breathed. Only a thin line of hazel remained in his eyes. His cock pressed against Magnus’s stomach, weeping precum from the tip. The contact made him flinch and hiss, his hips jerking back. A needy, whining cry broke from his mouth.
Magnus hushed him. He kissed the base of Alexander’s throat, trailing up his neck until he could suck his trembling bottom lip into his mouth. Less of a kiss than a tease, Magnus ended it with a nip. “I abide your command.”
Alexander made a sound of pure desperation. He tugged on Magnus’s shirt. “I want you. Do it, please, Magnus. Please.”
“You have me,” Magnus promised. He shrugged his shoulders, letting his silk shirt spill off. He reached down to free his cock but Alexander stopped him. He looked curiously at his husband.
“Let me?” Alexander asked. His crimson blush burned all the way down his throat. “I want to make you feel good.”
Magnus drew his hand back. “You always do,” he said, husky and raw. He glanced pointedly down. “Go on, darling.”
Alexander smiled. His long fingers played with Magnus’s fly, the button slipping out easily. He traced his fingertips along the zipper and pulled it slowly down. When his fingers skimmed over Magnus’s uncovered cock they both moaned.
With his remaining focus, Magnus swirled his hand. A golden vial materialized—he wasted no time popping the cork off with his thumb. “Palm up, Alexander.”
Alexander offered his hand gracefully, confidently—as though he could move no other way. Magnus fought the urge to bite. He wasted no time filling Alexander’s palm with his own brewed sandalwood oil, warm from his magic. His husband pressed a grateful kiss to Magnus’s wrist, then devoted himself to his task. Those archer’s fingers, strong and dexterous and callused, curled around Magnus’s length and gave one firm stroke. Magnus hissed, feeling the sharp edge of his pleasure bite into his tenuous control. He grit his teeth. The ritual was working merry hell on his stamina.
He looked over Alexander’s shoulder, peering into the darkness. He could feel his court’s eyes on them, as desirous as they were envious. It fueled him further, pushing him to that place where pleasure and conquest merged into one red blur.
He groaned, thrusting into Alexander’s palm. “So good, darling.” His husband had set up a steady rhythm, bringing Magnus closer to the peak with every pass. “Getting me so ready. I can’t wait to get inside you. Make you mine.” He mouthed at Alexander’s jaw, bruising as much as kissing.
“Magnus,” Alexander sighed. His own cock stuck up just as desperately as Magnus’s, flushed a lovely red. Magnus traced a fingertip up the delicate vein that ran along the underside, watching Alexander’s face. His husband’s eyes slammed shut, his voice bitten off mid-cry. Pushing his advantage, Magnus circled his thumb over Alexander’s soaking wet tip. His darling’s grip stuttered and faltered. Magnus grabbed his arm, stilling him.
“That’s enough,” Magnus said, panting. His other hand crept down Alexander’s side, cupping his round bottom. “Need to be in you, now.” He nuzzled his cheek against Alexander’s to take the bite out of his demand. “Need to make you mine.”
Alexander’s chest heaved. “Please.” A tear rolled down his cheek and Magnus gave into impulse, catching it on his tongue. Salt burst across his senses, dragging a growl out of his throat.
He summoned the oil again, spilling it sloppily over his fingers. “Lean forward,” he ordered, his mouth right against Alexander’s ear. His eyes flicked to his court, watching them from beyond his dais. “Let them see your pretty hole, Alexander.” He kissed sloppily at Alexander’s neck. “Let them all see what belongs to me.”
Alexander breathed wetly against his shoulder. His nails sunk into Magnus’s skin, likely as much to stop his trembling as for balance. But, obediently, he jutted his ass out. With his knees on either side of Magnus’s hips, the position forced his pert cheeks to part. He whimpered when the first warm club breeze met his tight hole, his balls hanging vulnerably in the air —Magnus swallowed it down greedily, so hard he could barely think.
He broke the kiss only to sing Alexander’s praises. Soothing his clean hand up and down Alexander’s heaving side, he scratched his nails lightly on his ribs until Alexander’s breathing evened out. “That’s beautiful, darling,” he crooned. “Stay still just like this, hm?”
Alec nodded against his shoulder. His mouth found Magnus’s neck and sucked hard, worrying the skin between his teeth, distracting himself and giving Magnus one hell of a bruise. Magnus smirked, groaning into the sensation. He looked forward to seeing the mark in the morning. He’d change his nails to match its colour.
While he mused, he worked over Alexander’s gorgeous bottom. The firm massage relaxed his husband, arousing him more each time Magnus’s fingers teased his crease. Slowly, the nervousness the new position drew up in Alexander eased. He waited until Alexander was moaning against his skin, his hips twitching in his hands, before Magnus slipped his oiled finger up against Alexander’s tight furl. He gave it a firm rub, slicking up that resistant little muscle. Alexander let go of his neck long enough to let out a tortured cry, leaving Magnus’s shoulder wet with spit and tears. Magnus murmured praises in his ear as he pushed his first finger inside him.
Alexander jerked, whining. Magnus rewarded him with a firm hand on his cock, his palm slicked by a magic’d splash of oil. He gave rhythmic strokes that kept Alexander desperately grunting into his shoulder. Encouraged, Magnus magic’d more oil onto his hands and slid another finger inside his husband. Alexander squealed. Magnus kissed him, lascivious and wet, swallowing his needy sounds. He curled his fingers inside, going slow and firm, pushing in straight to the base. When he had Alexander bouncing back against his hand, he added a third.
“Magnus,” Alexander cried. His hips stuttered between thrusting into Magnus’s hand and spearing himself down on Magnus’s fingers. Magnus thumbed his leaking cockhead, glorying in the spasm that struck Alexander’s body. When his muscles relaxed, slipping back from the crest, Alec dropped into his lap like a marionette with his strings cut.
Magnus made loving noises in his ear, nipping gently at the delicate pink shell. He sunk his teeth in a little harder while he flexed his fingers inside Alexander, trying to balance the sensations he enacted on his darling. Alexander heaved against him, struggling to take the pain and the pleasure. Then, Magnus took his hand off Alexander’s cock. Alexander tried to chase his touch, but a brief reprimanding pinch to his cockhead reminded him to be good.
Magnus pulled back just enough that Alexander was forced to show him his face. Tears ran down his cheeks freely. He was gasping, heaving between sobs. Magnus moaned low in his throat, dumbstruck by Alexander’s blown eyes. His bruised skin. With the hand still messy from abusing his pretty cock, Magnus dragged his thumb over Alexander’s lips. Like it was instinct, Alexander took his thumb in his mouth and sucked.
Magnus chuckled roughly, letting his husband lick his thumbpad clean. “Have I been ignoring your mouth, my love?” His cock was so hard it pulsed with his fucking heartbeat. Alexander’s talented hand, and now his begging eyes and sweet noises—Magnus was made a wild thing, craven and lustful. Every moment he dragged this out pushed his control to the breaking point. But he couldn’t deny that every tremble and shake that wracked Alexander’s body, every whining noise and tearful glance, tempted him to keep them both on the precipice.
His husband choked around Magnus’s thumb, plugged up on both ends. Magnus stroked his tongue, then pulled away. Alexander gasped in breaths, staring at Magnus worshipfully. “You always give me what I need,” he mumbled drunkenly.
Magnus laughed, very nearly manic with lust and magic. “I will always give you what you need,” he swore, and dragged his finger over the bundle of nerves he’d been ignoring since he’d started opening Alexander up.
Alexander yelled, his teeth locking in Magnus’s skin to try and smother the sound. His cock strained, his body pushed over the edge—but Magnus’s magic had followed his will. A sparkling blue band wrapped tightly, lovingly around Alexander’s cock and balls. Alexander howled, driven almost insensate by his ruined release. He clung to Magnus amid the storm, sobbing without restraint against his chest.
“Oh, my gorgeous darling,” Magnus whispered, nearly breathless. His precum leaked down his cock, his gut tight with burning need. Alexander always cried so prettily.
Magnus magic’d his hand clean, then carded his fingers through Alexander’s hair. “That was so lovely, darling, and you took it so well. So perfect, my love.” He flexed his fingers inside Alexander. His husband flinched a little but rocked back into his hand. Not too abused to continue, then. Still, Magnus needed verbal confirmation. He stroked a fourth finger gently against Alexander’s tightly stretched hole. “Could you take a last one, my love? I want you nice and relaxed for me.” He pressed a kiss to Alexander’s collarbone. “I promise I won’t be mean.”
Alexander moaned, tilting his hips weakly into Magnus’s fingers. He gave a little nod when that wasn’t enough to prod Magnus into action, then seemed to think about his situation and found his words. “Yes, Magnus,” he affirmed hoarsely. He stared into Magnus’s eyes, forcing him to see his desperation. “Finish this. Make me yours.”
He wasn’t talking just about sex anymore, Magnus knew. He meant his coronation as Magnus’s consort. Sex was the traditional cornerstone of the ritual, but by no means the most important piece. Magic, of course, held that role.
It had been gathering under Magnus’s skin all night. Waxing and surging, it waited for his slightest command, raging in his heart. The gates were open. Yet Magnus had been careful, acclimating Alexander’s body to the ritual magic just a few sparks at a time. And Alexander had been taking it so, so well. But the magic was grasping by nature, overwhelming and consuming. Closer to demonic power than Magnus had ever drawn before, it was all the more potent for it. Potent enough, even, to curse one of Raziel’s children with immortality. For Warlocks and their usual consorts, werewolves, vampires, and Seelies, even the odd Sighted mundane, this bond wove easily. But Alexander’s Shadowhunter oaths swore his death to Raziel, and Magnus expected Raziel to fight back. He expected it to hurt.
Magnus looked at his husband. His eyes were glassy and fever-bright, his skin chalky white where it wasn’t flushed. Even so, Alexander was right—it was time to end this.
Drawing Alexander into another kiss, Magnus slid in his fourth finger. Alexander’s breath caught mid-kiss, slithering into a moan when Magnus gently spread his fingers. He held them there like that for what could have been minutes or hours, his attention caught on the focused wrinkle in Alexander’s brow, on his wet lips and cheeks and beautiful curls. His cock jutted up proudly and every muscle in his neck and down his shoulders stood taut, his belly quivering with gasps. He watched Magnus with big, lust-dark eyes.
When Magnus first imagined this night, he’d thought of turning Alexander to face the audience. He’d wanted Alexander to see the worship on the faces of Magnus’s court, of their court. To see how truly and completely he belonged here, in the Downworld and at Magnus’s side. No small part of Magnus, too, had twisted excitedly at the thought of showing off his most precious treasure. Of watching the envy lurk behind every smile.
But, no. He watched Alexander now, strung-out and devoted to none but Magnus, and knew that he’d sooner blind every person in this room than let them see Alexander’s face on the cusp of climax.
Carefully, Magnus stroked his thumb over Alexander’s pulse. His darling looked ripe to cry. “What has you so distressed now, Alexander?” Magnus asked. “Are you feeling ready for me yet?” He curled his fingers as much as he could. Alexander jumped in his lap.
“Yes, yes, yes,” Alexander chanted, the words a prayer and plea. “Please, Magnus, please. I need you.”
Magnus kissed his cheek. “I know, darling. Here, stand up a little bit, there you go. Perfect, my love.”
Unclothed, Magnus could see every tremble Alexander’s muscles made as they fought to keep him on his knees. With his free hand, Magnus gripped Alexander hip, more a moral support than any real help. Slowly, he worked the other from Alexander’s clenching hole. Alexander’s yelp as his fingers finally slipped out made him coo. He gave Alexander’s loose hole a loving pet with fresh oil before he pulled away. He slicked up his hard cock with the rest.
“Magnus,” Alexander mumbled, his name falling like a prayer from his lips. “Please, please. Hurry, please.”
“So polite, my love,” Magnus replied. “Thank you, my darling. Come here, now. Hands on my shoulders, yes, just like that.” With Alexander bracing himself on his shoulders, Magnus had an easier time of lining up his cock with one hand and bringing Alexander’s hips down with the other. It was a good thing, too, because Alexander was on the edge of his own formidable control. Magnus’s grip was all that kept him from going too fast, instead forcing Alexander to go slow—for both their sakes.
“Fuck,” Magnus cursed. “Still so fucking tight, Alexander. Should I have plugged you up, hm? Were my fingers not enough?”
“No,” Alexander moaned. His eyes were closed, his mouth gaping as his hole swallowed Magnus down. “No, please, Magnus. This is so good. Love being spread open by you. Need you deeper, Magnus, please. Need to feel you inside me.”
The mouth on this boy. He used to be so reserved in bed, but Magnus supposed that was mostly nerves. Once they’d learned each other, Alexander began to talk. And Magnus’s tattered self-control took another beating.
His plush ass met Magnus’s thighs with a wet squish. Magnus threw his head back, a growling moan scraping out of his throat. His nails sunk into those creamy cheeks, Alexander jackknifing in his grip. He keened wildly, a long, draw-out sound that ended in a hiccupping sob.
Magnus smoothed his hands up Alexander’s ass, massaging as he went until he could clamp his hands on Alexander’s ribcage. “You feel perfect, Alexander,” Magnus said, his voice gone harsh and guttural. He pressed a mauling string of kisses up Alexander’s chest, finally mouthing at his neck. “Going to fuck you so good, sweet boy. Make you mine, mine forever.”
His hips rose with his words, snaping into Alexander’s sloppy hole. The tight heat of him was eating at Magnus’s mind, devouring his rational thought. His body milked Magnus stubbornly. Frustrated sobs left Alexander every time he pulled out, pleasured shrieks escaping him with every thrust in.
“Take me, take me, take me,” Alexander chanted. He was struggling to keep pace, his thighs flexing, working to keep his body in rhythm with Magnus. Magnus could feel him trembling, shaking apart in his hands. He was breathing hard, panting and whining, tears leaking from his eyes. He was exhausted, at his absolute limit, and sparking every so occasionally with the magic Magnus had been pressing into his skin. So, Magnus made an executive decision.
Taking hold of Alexander’s shoulders, Magnus pulled him tight against his chest and rolled them both flat on the couch. The spacious furniture took their weight easily and Magnus kept them steady. Alexander gave a startled yelp, but Magnus didn’t let up. His knee on the couch and his heel braced on the floor, Magnus held Alexander’s hips up and fucked into his hole. Every muscle in his arms pulled, his core drawn taunt to keep them both in place, both drowning in pleasure. So focused on their bodies, his grip on his magic slipped. Blue lightning snapped over his arms, his chest, his hands—striking Alexander.
Alexander arched under Magnus, thrashing in the magic’s grip. “Magnus, Magnus,” he moaned, his hands scrabbling at Magnus’s chest, his shoulders. Looking for any purchase he could find.
“Sorry, sorry,” Magnus said, reaching for control he couldn’t find. He wanted to pull the magic back, to go more slowly. He was so scared of doing too much too fast, of overwhelming Alexander, of making a mistake and forcing Alexander to pay the price.
Alexander’s hands found his wrists. They locked around his skin tightly, holding Magnus to him. “It’s okay,” Alexander slurred, his eyes blinking slowly. “Feels so good, Magnus, please. Want more.” He rolled his hips encouragingly, then threw his head back with a whimper.
“Alexander,” Magnus sighed. His eyes fluttered. Magic and pleasure throbbed in his body, demanding he act. Demanding he take. “I can’t hold it back anymore.” Sweat rolled down his spine. His whole body shook.
Hands slid up Magnus’s arms. Alexander pulled him down, winding his arms around his shoulders. Magnus collapsed to his forearms, groaning against Alexander’s chest, working his hole with short, swiveling thrusts.
Alexander gasped with each throbbing movement. “Don’t try,” he cried when he finally had air back. He had his palm at the base of Magnus’s skull, holding him close, forcing him to meet his eyes. Forcing him to see the complete faith that Alexander held. “Just let go. Let them see.”
Alexander’s head tipped to the side, looking to the court. Magnus could make out their dancing shapes in the lights. Faces turned regularly to them, eyes never leaving them for more than a few moments. Others watched obviously, intently. Skin met skin in the court, pleasure a living thing. This was their privilege and their honour, a glimpse into the intimacy that lived between their Consular Warlock and Consort.
Alexander’s hand found Magnus’s cheek, turning his head and locking their gazes. Magnus sighed into his touch. “Let it free, Magnus,” Alexander said hoarsely, rough with strain. Neither of them could hold out much longer. “I’m yours. Do you take me?”
He’d asked a question, but there was no doubt in Alexander’s voice. Magnus clung to that. “I do.”
As hard as it was to hold the magic back, letting the last of his grip off the reins was harder. Magnus had to force his conscious mind to stand down. Don’t hurt him, he pleaded with the last of his influence. The magic roared, in recognition or mockery Magnus couldn’t tell. It was too fierce to read, feral and vicious. This magic had been summoned by the court, shaped by Alexander’s vows, and heeded Magnus’s most base desire—it knew its purpose well and was powerful enough to complete its end, could overwhelm even vows given to the Angel, Magnus had no doubt. But, by fire and ash, Magnus could not control the toll it would take on Alexander. For fraction of a second, Magnus loathed it.
And then the magic was thundering from his hands, cobalt blue and starving. Channeling it stole away all ability to think. He was aware of pleasure, distantly. But magic chased the pleasure, and the magic set his mind on fire. He felt his skin burn with it. It seared his whole being, this thing that could only be described as power, as old and supreme as life itself.
Against his palms, Alexander seized. He grabbed Magnus’s arms, then caught himself in the scant second before his Angel-born instincts could throw Magnus off his body. Instead, his grip turned bruising and painful as Alexander fought to stay still. Had he been able to form words, Magnus would have lavished him in praise; told him truthfully how remarkable he was to fight that instinct down even when the magic worked on him had to really fucking hurt. Magnus could feel the pain in every line of Alexander’s body. Holding him was like embracing a statue in the middle of a hurricane.
Magnus clung to him tenaciously, pushing away the jittering, eclectic thrill that casting the magic brought on. He locked his focus on Alexander’s face, tracking the sharp edge of his clenched jaw, honed on his screwed-shut eyes. It could have been minutes or centuries that they lie like that, Magnus’s nails biting bloody crescents into Alexander’s chest as the magic charged through his hands. His heart lived in his throat for every second of it, but he pushed the magic onward to seek its end.
Finally, heralded by a change in pressure that made Magnus’s ears pop, Alexander gasped. Blue light flickered under his skin, following the dainty pathways of his veins. It sparkled in faint lines around his eyes before disappearing under the flesh of his full cheeks, pooling in the thundering pulse of his carotid artery before spilling down his neck, over his collarbones and along the rest of his body. The brighter the blue glowed, the less the magic stormed around them. Eventually the maelstrom of blue fire eased. The magic flowed not in the air but in Alexander’s blood, rewriting him with every heartbeat.
Mercifully, with every pulse Alexander relaxed a little more. His breathing hitched at first, halting in places like he needed a moment to remember what he was doing. But it grew more regular with every breath, until it was even enough that Magnus felt safe to spare some of his attention to clean up their mess and dress Alexander in soft silk pants.
Alexander made no sign he’d noticed the change. His eyes were wide and dark, blinking slowly. He looked to be seeing into a place beyond this moment, into a world Magnus could not find.
“Sayang?” Magnus prompted. The magic didn’t burn so much, now. His hands stung with the heat of it, but what was once an inferno had gentled to a hearth fire. Magnus leaned back and eased his hands down Alexander’s chest, his magic clinging greedily to Alexander’s skin but not throwing itself against Magnus’s will to get there. Most of it was already tucked away safely under Alexander’s skin and doing its work, as it should be. He followed one of the lines with a fingertip, awed, tracing it up Alexander’s neck and pressing a kiss where the line faded at the hinge of his jaw.
Alexander didn’t stir at all.
He should panic, Magnus thought. Alexander should never go where he could not follow. And none of the dozens of consorts’ accounts they’d studied leading up to tonight had mentioned this strange distance. Magnus was entirely in the dark, with absolutely no idea how he could draw Alexander back. But his magic held back his fear. It filled every empty space in Alexander’s body, submerging bone and blood and flesh until Alexander’s heart did not beat without Magnus’s magic beating with it. Alexander felt closer to Magnus now than he had ever before. He could not fear and panic when Alexander’s heart was so peaceful.
He tried to read Alexander’s expression but found only that unsettling vacancy. Panic tried again. Alexander was Nephilim, sworn to Raziel. Was the Angel interfering? Pain was only to be expected in a meeting between angelic and demonic magics, but there could always be an entirely different horrible consequence that Magnus had missed. Just look at poor Clary.
Fear seized him.
But Magnus could feel the fledgling bond, now. The blue magic in Alexander’s veins was slowly dimming, sinking so deep that the physical world couldn’t touch it. There, it wove a connection between he and his husband that would spite time itself. Magnus inhaled slowly, feeling the way that warm light radiated peace like a golden afternoon. Whatever was happening, even as hair-trigger as Magnus was drawn, he didn’t feel like he should fight it.
Keeping his breathing purposefully calm, Magnus sat up on the couch and pulled Alexander into his arms. Alexander moved like a ragdoll but his living weight was reassuring. The impulse to portal them back to the loft, where Magnus had insisted Catarina, Jace, and Isabelle wait in case something went truly wrong with the ritual, was still strong. But Alexander was breathing easily, his pulse steady within the bond and against Magnus’s fingers. His colour had even returned. Only that blank, flat expression and the magic still dimly lighting up his veins were physical proof of the ritual they’d wrought.
Magnus cradled him closer, pressing a kiss to his hair. “Come back to me now, love. Please.”
Magnus held him for minutes longer, agonizing over whether to keep waiting or run home. The peace flooding into his heart made him pause, but what really stopped him was the frightening realization that there was nothing much that could be done. Alexander was physically fine. What could anyone do to call back a mind that might have drifted too far? Magnus had no idea and the mind was one of his areas of expertise. Staying on the couch felt, for the moment, the safest option.
He was running his fingers through Alexander’s hair, making bargains with himself about how much more time he would give it before causing a scene, when Alexander inhaled sharply. The slow, dreamy blinks of the last few minutes were replaced by fluttering lashes, his face clearing of the absent fog. Magnus gave a little cry of relief, pushing Alexander back just enough that he could see his face better.
A beautiful grin spread across Alexander’s face. “Magnus,” he said happily, leaning in for a kiss.
Magnus couldn’t deny him. He kissed him for a long time, with more desperation than Alexander had been anticipating judging by the surprise on his face when they parted. “I couldn’t reach you,” he said in defence, unable to stop himself from looking Alexander over with a worried eye.
Alexander frowned a little. “I’m sorry,” he said. “I didn’t realize I was gone so long.”
Manus brushed off the apology. He held Alexander face in his hands and stole another little kiss. “Where did you go?” He asked against Alexander’s lips. Don’t go without me again. He managed to bite the demand back at the last second.
Alexander smiled like he knew exactly what possessive sentiment Magnus had tried to smother. Perhaps he did, through his end of the bond. He gave Magnus another kiss and carded his fingers through his hair. “It’s okay,” Alexander assured. He nestled into Magnus’s shoulder, his long legs lying over Magnus’s thighs. Despite the heavy wards, he leaned close and whispered in Magnus’s ear. “Raziel just wanted to pass along his blessings.”
Magnus looked at him, gaping.
Alexander smirked. “Oh, ye of little faith.”
Magnus swallowed thickly. “You’ll have enough for the both of us, Alexander,” he managed.
“I’ll try to,” Alexander said. A soft joy grew across his expression, warming his face. “As long as we both shall live.”
A matching happiness surged through Magnus, chasing away the last of his fear and doubt and sheer fucking disbelief at the nerve of the Angels. Shadowhunters, Magnus rationalized tightly, had to have gotten their sense of foreboding drama somewhere. He would focus on being relieved, this time, rather than breathtakingly irritated.
Gathering Alexander closer against his chest, Magnus buried his nose in Alexander’s curls and breathed. Sweat and sandalwood and magic’s burned-sugar smell met his senses, almost smothering the barest hint of the crisp ozone scent that seemed to herald those from On High. “Nothing would make me happier.”
They lapsed into silence for a moment, simply indulging in the other’s nearness, in the bond that gleamed between them. He swept his hand over Alexander’s chest, happy to rest it over his heart for the rest of the night. He felt the comfort Alexander took from that gesture well in his own heart.
“You’re feeling good, then?” Magnus asked, craving the confirmation. Obviously, Alexander hadn’t been at one time tonight. A tease of Raziel’s or simply the cost of the ritual? Impossible to tell. The important part was that Magnus didn’t sense any signs of strain now. And if Raziel was pulling Alexander aside to bestow his felicitations, then Magnus would take that as a wonderful sign that there would be no further problems with Alexander’s loss of mortality.
Still, it was best to be careful.
Magnus watched Alexander take stock. Magnus was gratified by that. Once upon a time, Alexander would have replied “I feel fine” with a bleeding gut wound.
“I am,” Alexander confirmed. “Tired, a little sore, but good.” He blushed a little. “You can proceed, if you like.”
Magnus smiled. “If you’re ready, I would like to very much.” When Alexander nodded eagerly, Magnus drew himself up and adjusted his wards one last time to let sound in. Music hit their ears like a freight train and Magnus didn’t miss how Alexander winced. Yes, they would finish this last gesture and then it was time for a long rest. Good thing that they had two weeks of leave and a private Indonesian beach waiting for them on the other side of a portal.
He settled his hands on either side of Alexander’s neck, his thumbs bringing the gentlest pressure to bear. That gesture alone was enough for the music to fade off, his people focusing with rapt attention.
Smiling, Magnus called on his magic once more. He had a clear image of what he wanted to create. He’d spent the last few months studying to be able to deliver it perfectly. “My court,” Magnus began affectionately. The magic spun out from his fingers, a tight band forming around Alexander’s neck. From the band, loops of magic swooped out, weaving a pattern that fell to the edge of Alexanders shoulders and just past his collarbone. “I thank you for granting me this night my ritual. As I serve you, you have honored me and my heart in the most profound way.” He gently pulled his hands away from Alexander’s neck, watching with no small pride as the intricate magic outline settled into chains of the finest gold. Black diamond glittered at each joint of the chains, sparkling over Alexander pale skin. But the true worth of the piece was the sapphire that sat at the hollow of Alexander’s throat. It glowed not just with its own priceless sparkle but with Magnus’s magic. From the audible gasps that came from the court, Magnus was not the only magic user aware that every other ward Magnus had ever cast looked like a paltry parlour trick by comparison.
Immortality and, so long as Alexander wore the stone, invulnerability. Magnus’s heart was well guarded, indeed.
“Allow me to name to you my wedded husband and the Consular Consort of the Americas,” Magnus said, his satisfaction dripping off the words as thickly as honey. “Alexander Gideon Lightwood-Bane!”
The resounding roar shook Pandemonium to its foundation. Magnus was deaf to it. He had attention only for Alexander, for his jubilant kiss and clinging arms.
“Yours,” Alexander whispered as they parted, eyes closed. “Forever.
“Mine,” Magnus returned. With no small relief, he echoed, “Eternally.”
They lay back against the couch, then, sending a fire message to let the others at the loft know that all was well and then settling in for a long few hours of congratulations. In any other circumstance, Alexander and even Magnus would have found the apparently universal tradition of accepting well-wishes from politicking courtiers a tiresome waste of time, but not tonight. Tonight, their love had stopped the clock. They could spare a few minutes, now.
The world, and all its time, was theirs.