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“I’m just remembering Havana–salsa dancing at the Tropicana.”
Maybe Magnus would always have nightmares about Alec’s two left feet, but there was so much more about that night that would stay with him always.
The nights were hot and sweaty, particularly on a packed dancefloor. That didn’t stop them from pressing their bodies up against one another, though, fingers slipping on sweat-glazed skin. Both of them had had their shirts unbutton nearly to their navels, allowing hands to glide easily over planes of muscle and soft skin. The lights mounted above them were deep red, and reflecting on the shine of their bodies, accentuating the valleys and peaks.
Alec may have been out of his depth, but there was one thing he knew even without any prior knowledge; he was intimately familiar with Magnus’ body and how it moved and reacted. And when Magnus carefully slotted a leg between Alec’s, guiding him gently to move in a kind of push and pull, wanting and taking, he looked like a natural.
Slow and sultry was easy for the two of them, because the thing that ran between them as consistent and strong as a heartbeat was passion. And that’s what salsa dancing is all about,
“Eres tan hermoso como el sol,” Magnus had whispered in Alec’s ear as he pulled him in close with a hand on the back of his neck. “Radiante,” he murmured, moving to drag his teeth along the shell of his ear. “Exquisito.” His nose trailed a path along Alec’s hairline until his mouth reached its new destination, kissing his temple.
A deep sound of contentment had risen in Alec’s throat, and his fingers splayed on Magnus’ lower back flexed. HIs eyes were closed, drinking in everything he could feel in this moment. A bead of sweat trickled down from his hairline and caught in his eyelash before rolling down his cheek.
“You surrender so beautifully, and I am blessed to deserve it.” Magnus’ had kept his voice low, confessing to his love like a treasured secret. “I love you with all my heart, Alexander.”
“I love you,” Alec had replied immediately, bringing Magnus’ hand he held up to his chest to rest over his heart. “I will always be yours.”
Magnus could feel it pounding beneath his palm, just for him, and he knew it was the greatest thing he could ever call his.
When they had kissed, it tasted of vodka and lime and sweat, and it felt like drowning without fear.
Brooklyn nights were never anywhere near as hot as those in Havana, but the memory could make him burn from the inside out and overtake the coldest night.