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It’s early morning when the inquisitive thought stems into Alec’s mind that if he were to be asked which part of Magnus he loves most, he wouldn’t be able to narrow it down to any one answer. A hypothetical impossibility.
Magnus Bane is more than just one perfect, beautiful, physical manifestation.
From the toes that wiggle absentmindedly when Magnus is looking through the newspaper, spread out on the couch and calm with not a worry besides the words his eyes travel. Bare feet, balanced and sturdy, not easily tripped or susceptible to the clumsiness that someone like Simon embodies. Ankles that poke out, where Alec loves to rest his fingers on days off when the two of them sit in companionable silence and tend to their own responsibilities in shared space. To his calves, that radiate endless amounts of strength, that support the lithe feline movements he graces Alec with every day. Up his legs and along his thighs to the muscles that wrap around Alec and prove themselves over and over again of their rigorous training and work.
He’s especially favorable towards the more intimate parts of Magnus, the spots Alec spent days discovering, unraveling his boyfriend with the press of his fingers and kisses and bites along sensitive flesh. The shifting of hips that Alec loves to watch, the way they sway with every step, rock with intention to catch Alec’s gaze. And it works, Alec always caves, will always cave for as long as he’s allowed.
And when Magnus turns around, Alec loves that too.
The sensual curve of Magnus’ back as it dips lower and peaks out to form the toned ass he grasps onto with attentive eagerness. The feel of it supple and full, seemingly made to fit perfectly against the grip of Alec’s palm. And when Magnus’ body works together, a well-oiled machine that Alec will happily keep up work on, it’s almost enough to claim the top spot in what he loves about Magnus.
But then his hands rise higher, graze up the sides of the hips Alec wants to always focus all of his attention on, and suddenly the dips of his abs are Alec’s favorite. The feel of the smooth skin under his fingers, when they drag along the lines of muscle and Magnus’ body trembles beneath him. It comes in strides, waves of motion that lift and fall with the movement of his fingers, pulling an invisible string that connects Magnus’ core to Alec’s hands in a fated life.
Magnus’ chest is no different, as proud and confident as the air that spills forth from the lungs inside. Alec would expect no less from the High Warlock, would expect the charisma that pours through time and time again. Even clothed, Alec loves to see the peek of skin beneath the cut of the shirt, through the sheer of the mesh or thin cotton. Especially when the material itself longs to stretch around Magnus, doing the work of Angels as it spreads and clings around the thick muscles of Magnus’ shoulders that offer a place for Alec to rest his hand when he feels the need for contact. Shoulders and arms that flex when they lift Alec up, bring him close and surround him in their heat and comfort. Biceps and forearms that tremble with the overwhelming desire to keep him housed above Alec when the moon is high in the sky and glistening off of the sheen of sweat that coats them.
Magnus’ hands come next, following the long limb of his arms, rough yet soft at the same time and never one without the other. Hands that provoke all that Alec has to give, that unfurl every sigh and moan unbidden. The twist of fingers as they maneuver magic through the air, as they twine with Alec’s own, as they circle around him every night. Alec could write a book on Magnus’ hands alone, and the ways in which he loves them.
Sometimes the clothes Magnus wears are restricting, covering bronze skin and only leaving an exposed neck for Alec’s lascivious eyes to drink up. But he soaks it in anyways, because Alec is very partial to the sinewy muscles that stretch and pull when Magnus rolls his neck after a long day of working. To feel the beat of the pulse underneath that seems to grow stronger when Alec whispers kisses to it with his lips, reverent and tender. It’s a song he knows well, a rhythmic hum that harmonizes with the moans and pleas that spill out, that become ragged and breathy with pleasure as Alec sinks his teeth into the loving juncture where Magnus’ neck and shoulder meet, a landmark he visits often and with great enthusiasm.
His love doesn’t stop there, though.
No, because then the sun rises in the morning, bleeds through the cracks of their blinds and slips through the curtains to fall upon Magnus’ face, elegant and beautiful and serene in the early morning sunshine. And Alec’s heart swells.
It fills with a burning love for Magnus that aches to keep this view for as long as he’s alive.
This image of Magnus at peace, delicate and soft the features of his face as Alec traces a finger along them. From the gentle spikes of his hair that have mussed and fallen flat against the pillow, the night before where Alec’s fingers had curled and tugged with passion. To the brow that sometimes crease with the furrow that accompanies strenuous thoughts. Sorrow for decades of memories lived and worry for decades to come that Alec will never be able to truly fathom. Magnus’ mind, an endlessly vast ocean of knowledge. Ideas and visions that have blossomed to life, that will come to fruition in the future with or without Alec, or have fizzled out brilliantly for nobody but Magnus.
Magnus’ eyes flutter open, glossy with the sleep he brings himself out of, unfocused and distracted until he sees Alec.
If he thought his heart was swollen and brimming with love before, Alec’s not prepared for the cadence with which his heart beats and sputters at the slow dawning of affection he sees reflected back at him in the golden cat eyes before him, pupils wide and dark and reminiscent of declarations murmured against the heat and slide of the night. It’s perfect, he thinks. This view in front of him, the same sight he’s greeted with every morning can never be topped.
But oh, how he continues to be proven wrong.
Because warmth blooms on Magnus’ face, casts aside the blinding light of the sun and becomes the sole reason for the lightening of the room when Magnus smiles.
This, Magnus’ smile, this is his favorite thing.
So many emotions capture in the upturn of those lips, displayed so openly for Alec to decipher with every second that passes. He finds himself becoming the most faithful observer, loyal and driven to uncover all that Magnus’ smile has to offer, secrets unearthed successfully and kept for only Alec. How it changes from happy and amused when they banter lightly over dinner options, to sultry and suddenly brazen in the way he offers something more to Alec’s very particular palate instead. It flips inside of him, the spinning of desire that longs to thread through his organs until he’s encompassed in the shaky murmurs of satisfaction that fill the room.
But there are other smiles he loves too, smiles that his own lips have the innate pull to echo. The quirk of lips that Magnus tries to hide behind a finger when they threaten to furnish a laugh that doesn’t belong in whatever professional ambience that surrounds him, situations where he turns to Alec for aid but is only met with the copied grin that they both try to conceal. Moments where the humor of their relationship behind closed doors seeps through into reality, where small laughs and quiet giggles turn heads towards them with questioning glances and inquiring eyes that they have no answers for.
Being with Magnus is fun. Fulfilling. Being with Magnus makes him happy.
And when Magnus smiles with the darkness of the room as a background and the moonlight illuminating the shadows on his face, Alec feels enlightened. The steady thrum of his heart, normally resolved to keep his blood flowing, gives way to the palpitations in his chest from something more than exhaustion from their coupling at the sight of the satiated, honeyed smile. He feels it in his bones, in the crevices of his mind that shine a spotlight on the intimacy he keeps separate for just these occasions, where the love he has for Magnus feels greater than he can ever vocalize, can’t ever put into words no matter how inspired he becomes.
He wonders if Magnus ever feels the same about him.
If the responsive smile Alec offers up with his heart completely does anything to stutter his breath or stammer words. Perhaps not, Alec’s unquestioning devotion surely can’t compare to the years of lovers come and gone. It’s a spiral Alec finds himself on the precipice of many times, a cliff that he edges so practiced and carefully. Surely his heart, though it has not been the first nor will it be the last, isn’t worthy enough for Magnus to reside and build a home in.
Thoughts like that never last, as hard as the strangle of claws digs into his back, crawls up and sinks onto his shoulders in their attempt to drag him down.
Because Magnus smiles, breathtaking and heavenly, and all Alec can see through the fog of insecurity.
Magnus, his powerful savior who can banish the darkness with just a look, a word, a touch. Magnus, with his affinity for making Alec feel every bit deserving of his fondness and spot beside him in the rankings of the Shadow World.
Magnus, who smiles at him with all the brightness in the universe, for whom the sun and moon hold no competition. Stars burn out, fade and die, and all the while Magnus’ smile lights Alec’s world with the twinkling of white from his bared teeth and bashful tilt of his head.
“I love you, Alexander,” Magnus says.
Body language expresses this with clarity as he leans into Alec’s presence. A firm constant shown in the soft press of lips to Alec’s, no hint of doubt or susceptibility to change because Magnus loves him, now and forever.
And Alec loves back just as ardently, earth-shattering and loud, with heavenly fire that burns his soul, rooted and hot and vigorous.
All of Magnus, always.