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The look on Alec’s face when Magnus drops the set of handcuffs into his palm is so priceless that even if this goes absolutely nowhere it’ll have been worth it just for that. “These are, uh,”
“Handcuffs,” Magnus points out helpfully, and beams at the exasperated look Alec gives him. Alec nudges him with his toe. They’re curled together on the couch, a Greta Garbo movie flickering in the background; it’s one Magnus has seen a few dozen times, and Alec doesn’t seem to find it compelling enough to keep his attention off of Magnus’s mouth and sundry other parts, which is entirely wonderful. He looks pleasantly disheveled, cheeks flushed, dark hair mussed from Magnus’s hands.
“Yeah, thanks, Magnus, I know what they are. I was more trying to segue into the question of what you expect me to do with them.”
“You need to expand your horizons, darling,” Magnus tells him, dropping a kiss on the temptingly exposed curve of his throat. His shirt is still technically on, but only very technically. It’s an extremely good look on him.
Alec snorts. “Starting with handcuffs, apparently.”
“I thought we could,” Magnus says, keeping his voice light. Alec is usually amenable to Magnus’s suggestions, particularly when it comes to sex, but it wouldn’t do to push. “I was awfully tempted the other day. You know. With the lock.”
“I thought you were joking,” Alec says, pulling back enough so that he can look at Magnus’s face. It’s not a no, which is encouraging, as is his thoughtful expression.
“I was, at the time. Mostly.”
“What about now?” The cuffs clink as he rolls them absently in his hands, and something about the sight of that, the gleaming metal caught in Alec’s broad palms, his long graceful fingers and the careless strength of his forearms, sends a sudden sharp heat flickering up Magnus’s spine.
Oh.
This all started out as an idle sort of fancy; it’s been a long time since he’s played this particular game with anyone, and there’s always a certain joy to introducing Alec to new things, but now, with Alec holding a pair of handcuffs and looking at him in that intent, fascinated kind of way—
“Magnus?” Alec asks, soft, and he forces his gaze back up to Alec’s face. Tries to force his expression into something other than the lust-filled daze that’s threatening to overtake it, although from Alec’s slow, pleased smile he’s pretty sure he doesn’t quite manage it.
“Now,” he breathes, “I am definitely not joking.”
“Oh.” Alec looks down at the cuffs, spots of color high in his cheeks. He swallows, and his voice is hoarse when he says, “Okay.”
*
Alec pauses when they get into the bedroom, eyeing the sturdy headboard with a speculative look as Magnus starts to unbutton his shirt. He’s kicked off his boots and banished his socks and is starting to undo the complicated buckle of his belt by the time Alec lifts the handcuffs slightly and says, “Shouldn’t there be some—I don’t know, padding on these? Or something? Everything I’ve seen—” he breaks off, his cheeks going abruptly pink, and Magnus laughs out loud, delighted. “Shut up.”
“Been doing your research, have you, darling?”
“I’m not sure that’s the right word,” Alec mutters, which is even better, and Magnus has to pause with his shirt halfway off to drag Alec into a lengthy kiss. Alec’s hands find their way into his hair, tugging slightly, and he groans into Magnus’s mouth, and Magnus is about three seconds away from just scrapping this whole idea and throwing Alec on the bed when Alec breaks the kiss of his own accord. “Seriously,” he murmurs, and he’s still blushing but his hands are firm on Magnus’s jaw, grounding. “I don’t want to hurt you.”
“You won’t,” Magnus says firmly, because for Alec that kind of statement is never, ever a joke. “They’re my conjuring. They won’t hurt me.” He pauses, and then, compelled by an honesty that’s probably not really necessary, adds, “At least not any more than I want them to.”
Alec gives him a long look, and Magnus feels himself start to flush, because that’s a conversation that should probably involve a bit more clothing and a bit less lust-fueled urgency, and then Alec breathes, “Oh,” and then kisses him again, hard.
There’s a stumbling shuffle back to the bed, Magnus tugging the rest of his clothes off until he gets entirely too impatient and just banishes them, landing on the mattress naked a moment later. Alec follows him down, straddles his hips, cups his face in both hands and kisses him.
“Give me your wrist,” he says when they finally break apart. Magnus feels his breath hitch, that giddy roller-coaster feeling, and does. The metal cuff is warm from Alec’s skin when he clasps it around Magnus’s wrist. He draws Magnus’s arm up to attach the other end to the headboard, then pauses.
“Do we need a safeword?”
“A safeword?” Magnus asks, smiling. “You have been doing your research. I’m flattered.”
“Shut up,” Alec mutters. There’s a flush rising in his cheeks, but he looks pleased, smiling a little as he ducks his head to press warm lips to Magnus’s wrist, a sudden contrast to the cool metal that makes him twist a little, arching into the touch. He’s only a little breathless when he speaks.
“I mean it. I am flattered. And I’m looking forward to finding out what else your studious efforts have turned up.” He grins when Alec huffs laughter. Oh, this is going to be fun. “But to answer your question, no, we don’t need a safeword. If I don’t like something, I’ll tell you, and you’ll stop.”
“Of course I will,” Alec says, sounding almost offended. Like the idea of anyone doing otherwise is unthinkable. Magnus only wishes that was the case. He can, at need, remove the handcuffs as easily as breathing. He made them, after all. But that isn’t really the point here.
“Of course you will, darling. Now. As you were?”
“Are you supposed to be the one bossing me around here?” Alec asks. He looks amused, but something about the way he says it makes heat pool in Magnus’s belly. “I thought it was the other way around.”
“Oh,” he says. “Well then. By all means, do what you like with me.”
Alec grins at him sweetly, and leans down to kiss his mouth, slow and leisurely and so, so hot that Magnus almost doesn’t notice him fastening the other cuff, god bless shadowhunter training and the borderline-supernatural coordination it imbues them with. Magnus breaks the kiss to breathe in sharply.
“Not too tight, is it?” Alec asks. It’s mostly teasing, but there’s a note of concern there too.
“No,” Magnus breathes.
“Good,” Alec says back, just as soft. He drops another kiss on Magnus’s mouth, then sits back on his heels to look at him. He is a sight, Alexander Lightwood shirtless and flushed, the top button of his jeans undone, denim pulled tight over the strong lines of his thighs where he’s still straddling Magnus. “God, you’re beautiful.”
“Look who’s talking.” Magnus rolls his shoulders, flexes against the pull of the handcuffs, tilts his head back to expose the line of his throat and watches Alec’s eyes go dark. His own pulse kicks up a notch. “Have you decided what you’re going to do with me yet?”
Alec laughs. “Are you planning on talking this whole time?”
“Well,” Magnus says, only half-joking. “If you don’t like it, you’re welcome to gag me.”
Alec’s eyes darken at that, flick down to Magnus’s mouth, and then he says roughly. “Maybe next time. I want to hear you.”
“Next time, huh?” It comes out breathless. “That’s promising.”
Alec’s mouth curls into a smile. He leans down to kiss Magnus, then slides his mouth across the edge of his jaw, trailing kisses down his throat. “I meant it, you know. You look really good like this.”
“I always look good.” Magnus feels wonderfully solid, caged in by Alec’s body, Alec’s breath in his ear, the sharp bright discomfort of metal digging into his skin when he shifts, rutting up against Alec. He can’t really get any purchase like this, but he can hook his leg over the back of Alec’s thigh to pull him down.
“True.” Alec lifts his head to grin at him, and then his palm settles on Magnus’s hip, sliding up to his knee. He grips the joint briefly, then pushes away, moving Magnus’s legs down until they’re flat against the bed. “Should have got some for your ankles too.”
“Are you actually trying to kill me?” Magnus asks, heat swooping through him at the idea. Tied down completely for Alec to take his pleasure, what a wonderful image. He’d conjure another pair of cuffs right now if he could muster the concentration, but that’s already a lost cause.
He meant to start this off slow. Ease Alec into the whole idea. Somehow he managed to forget that Alec has never had the faintest clue how to ease into anything.
“No.” Alec kisses him again, sweetly, hands still gripping tight. “Keep your legs there, though. No touching.”
He presses down, bringing his weight and strength to bear for an instant, and Magnus gasps, arches against the pressure, then subsides, relaxing into the mattress. “Okay.”
“Thank you,” Alec says, grinning, and releases him.
“So polite.”
“I try.” Alec sits back on his heels. He’s a lovely sight from this angle, all mussed and flushed with his bare chest heaving, but the best thing about him is the look on his face, something both heated and calculating. He doesn’t seem like he’s hesitating so much as just… deciding on a course of action. Or dragging out the anticipation, maybe. Alec isn’t usually all that patient when it comes to sex, but tonight has just been full of surprises.
Good ones. There’s something wonderful about abdicating any need to take the lead, to be in control, to present himself as the experienced guide through this landscape.
Alec doesn’t seem to need a guide right now. He starts slow, little delicate touches to Magnus’s throat, tracing the muscles in his arms where they’re drawn up and immobile. He presses his mouth under Magnus’s ear, teeth stinging sharp, then kisses lower. Licks over a nipple until it’s sensitive, then worries it with his teeth, drawing back with a sharp grin when Magnus gasps. “Good?”
“You’re a menace,” Magnus breathes, and Alec grins wider, dips his head to repeat the process on his other nipple. He’s trending slowly downward, so Magnus isn’t actually surprised when Alec breathes over the head of his cock, but that doesn’t stop him from gasping, arching up, his knees lifting, heels dragging the sheets up. Alec pulls back.
“Keep your legs down,” he says, pressing him back down. Magnus shudders against his touch “I mean it.”
“Okay.” The syllable seems to catch in his throat, dragged from him slow and breathless. A deep lassitude spreading through him as he lets himself relax, sink down. Alec’s mouth is slick and hot and slow, one hand still gripping Magnus’s thigh, pressing him down. Holding him still. The other works the base of Magnus’s cock, slick with spit and precome. Magnus wants to arch into it, but he forces himself to stay still, pliant, to let Alec take his time.
He’s talking, he realizes eventually. Babbling, profanity and endearments spilling out of his mouth without any conscious direction on his part, but it’s only when he hears himself say, “Please, Alexander, please, please,” thin and breathless, that Alec finally pulls back. After the heat of his mouth, the cool air is a shock.
“Don’t come yet,” Alec says, voice hoarse. He presses a soft kiss to Magnus’s hipbone, fingers digging into his thighs, grounding.
“You have plans for me?” He’s still out of breath. Lightheaded, almost.
“Yeah. I do.” Alec kisses his belly, then moves away, off the bed. He circles around to the head of the mattress to slide his fingers beneath the handcuffs, where the skin is already turning bruised and tender, presses soft kisses there. “These still good?”
“Very good,” Magnus breathes. The way Alec is looking at him is—it’s a lot. It makes him very aware of how spread open and exposed he is right now, which makes something hot shiver down his spine.
There aren’t many people he’d trust to see him like this. There’s the edge of some aching, tender thought there as Alec leans down to kiss him briefly, then pulls open the nightstand drawer to get a condom and the bottle of lube, both of which he tosses on the bed. He closes the drawer, meets Magnus’s eyes, and starts unbuttoning his jeans.
It’s not exactly a striptease, but Magnus still finds himself caught, staring, as Alec shimmies out of jeans and underwear, kicking them aside to leave him bare to the warm lamplight. His strong chest, thighs, the cut of his hip bones. His cock, hard and curving up toward his belly, precome beading at the tip. Alec catches him looking and one corner of his mouth turns up, sweetly teasing. He cups himself briefly, gives his cock a hard stroke, glances up again as if to make sure that Magnus is still watching, then climbs back on the bed.
He grabs a pillow and pushes it under Magnus, canting his hips up. “Still good?”
“I’m going to actually die if you don’t touch me soon,” Magnus says, which probably counts as an answer of some sort.
“Magnus.”
“I’m good.” And then, unsteady, “please. Alexander. Please touch me.”
Another kiss is pressed to the inside of his thigh. He hears the bottle open, then snap shut, and then slick fingers are pressing into him, a slow sweet burn that he twists against until Alec’s other hand clamps down on his hip.
“Hold still.”
Magnus swallows hard, nods, and he’s rewarded by the curl of Alec’s fingers pressing against his prostate and lighting up his nerves with liquid fire.
He’s caught here, his hands trapped above his head and his feet braced on the mattress while Alec fucks him open with merciless care. Only when he’s practically incoherent with want does Alec finally pull out, slide the condom on, push his legs apart to settle between them. Magnus flexes his hands and the handcuffs rattle, steel digging into his wrists as Alec’s cock pushes into him.
He takes his time about that, too, a long slow slide until he’s fully seated, braced over Magnus, burning hot and filling him up. Magnus tilts his head up, seeking, and is rewarded by a kiss, dirty and open-mouthed, and finally, finally, Alec starts to move.
It’s like a wave rolling over him, hot and inexorable. Like the world outside this bed has ceased to exist. Just him and Alec, here like this.
Alec, braced above him on strong arms, hair falling into his face, eyes glittering and intent as he drives into Magnus with slow, deep strokes. The way his lips are parted, the sweat gleaming on his skin—Magnus wants to memorize all of it. Wants to keep Alec here like this, just like this, forever.
Alec dips his head to kiss him, and it’s all Magnus can to to kiss him back, to breathe another unsteady ‘please’ against his lips. He feels filled up, surrounded, pinned in this place, this moment, and then Alec pulls back enough to murmur, “Now you can come.”
He reaches between them to wrap slick fingers around Magnus’s cock, and the heat that’s been building in him just—shatters, bright and sweet.
He’s distantly aware of Alec fucking him through it, Alec breathing his name with desperate reverence as his strokes go unsteady, his mouth open and wet against Magnus’s skin, but only distantly. He feels suffused with warmth, his mind some clear distant place, his body loose and pliant.
He doesn’t fully come back to himself when Alec goes still, hot and pulsing as he comes, or when he pulls out, stroking a hand down Magnus’s thigh in apology when he whines. A moment later, he’s kneeling up to release the handcuffs, to knead Magnus’s aching wrists with strong thumbs, to draw Magnus into his arms. Magnus collapses against him, breathes a shuddery sigh against his warm throat.
“Good?” Alec asks, running a hand down his spine, then back up again, soothing. He sounds warm and pleased, half-teasing, edging on smug.
Magnus would like to tease back, but there’s not nearly enough of his brain back online for that. Instead he presses a kiss to the hinge of Alec’s jaw, curls into the heat of his body, and nods. “Yeah. So good.”