Chapter Text
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Alec is just making sure he’s mixed Magnus’ martini to his very stringent specifications when the man himself, looking entirely too put together to be feeling the supposed exhaustion Izzy’s text just warned him about, makes an entrance that has Alec eye-rolling in the fondest of ways.
Dressed in the all-black outfit with electric-blue accents that has to be Alec’s favourite, Magnus already has his attention, but the sultry neck-roll that he pairs so well with that heaving sigh guarantees it. Only before he can respond to this display of effortless sensuality, Magnus performs a well-timed heel-pivot and flops dramatically down onto the couch, with the limbs flung wide being a particularly nice touch.
Even by Magnus’ usual standards, that was impressive.
“Busy day, huh?” Alec asks, ambling over as he adds the obligatory olive. Trying, but largely failing, to keep a straight face.
“You could say that, Alexander,” comes the weary reply, followed by another sigh.
So adorable.
“Then perhaps this might help?” he enquires, holding out the drink and waiting for the reaction.
One glitter-rimmed eye cranks open. The smile is Alec’s reward.
“Well, it’s certainly a good start,” Magnus replies, eyebrows dancing as he somehow musters the energy to make it to a half-seated position, and swallows it down in one.
Okay.
“Another?”
With a wink, Magnus hands back the glass, and Alec is happy to comply. Grinning to himself as Magnus starts sniffing the air.
“Alexander, I know I may be hallucinating through sheer fatigue, but is that mouth-watering aroma I can smell coming from our kitchen, by any chance?”
More than a little offended but willing to forgive in the circumstances, Alec passes Magnus ‘liquid medicine number two’ and gallantly sees to the removal of his boots and coat.
“I’ll have you know that I’ve been practicing. Hard.”
Magnus still looks unconvinced.
“Fine. Hold onto your drink,” he warns before hoisting his disbelieving husband over his shoulder, ignoring the shriek and the spills, and marches into the kitchen where he’s only marginally more gentle about depositing him on the countertop. “Now do you believe me?”
Shame-faced, Magnus nods. His wide eyes take in the organised chaos of Alec’s dinner preparations, which Alec hopes will produce the best eight-ounce steak Magnus has ever eaten. Well, at the loft, at least.
“My apologies for doubting you, Alexander. It was just, given how-”
Palm raised, Alec halts the unnecessary explanation mid-flow. He did have form in ruining meals, after all. But not this one.
“I get it,” Alec assures him. “But like I said, I’ve been practicing.”
Two strong legs hook around his hips and draw him closer until they’re trapping him against Magnus’ body. Magnus gives him a quizzical look. “How could you possibly have known that I would need exactly this today?”
“My rather concerned sister gave me a heads up about your heroic exploits at Croton Point about an hour before you came home, because she was worried you may be feeling the consequences of having dealt with a particularly stubborn horde of Kuri earlier. Hence why everything to restore your depleted magic is already in hand.”
Alec knows he looks pretty pleased with himself, but seeing how visibly touched that news makes this man in front of him is also a worthwhile cause to be happy, without a doubt.
Raising his half-empty glass, Magnus addresses his gratitude to the ceiling. “Thank you, darling Isabelle.” Then swiftly downs the contents, before winding those equally strong arms around Alec’s neck. “You, however, deserve something altogether different as a sign of my heartfelt thanks.”
Alec couldn’t agree more, gladly accepting the thoroughly gratifying kiss that puts fire in his blood as his due for being thoughtful.
“Consider that the first of many you’ll be receiving tonight,” Magnus promises, as his thumb traces the outline of Alec’s kiss-swollen lips.
It’s Alec’s turn to heave a deep sigh.
A playful Magnus is a powerful thing, but if he wants Magnus brimming with energy to get those kisses, he needs to flex his culinary muscles without delay.
Only when he explains this is he reluctantly released.
Supplying a third martini to a now doubly-thirsty Magnus, Alec then focuses entirely on his cooking. Dodging those grabby limbs isn’t easy though. Mostly because their remarkably-energetic owner is a mischievous little shit who is in the mood for games.
A mood that Alec is hopeless to stop, not that he really wants to, even as he plates up the medium rare triumph and pours another zinger of a cocktail. Mostly thanks to Magnus’ excessive pleasure-noises as he works his razor-sharp jaw to chew, extends that elegant throat to swallow, and uses that wicked tongue to lick his lips.
Who needs actual food when you can provide a feast, Alec muses, chin resting in his palm as he dreamily enjoys the multi-sensory feedback he’s getting from a very aware Magnus. Is there anything better than seeing this man happy? Alec doesn’t think so.
He’s so eager for his second thank you kiss that Magnus has barely had time to put down his knife and fork before Alec’s dragging his chair out so that he can straddle him, their giggles making it harder but neither’s complaining.
“You continue to surprise and energise me, Alexander,” remarks a husky-voiced Magnus when they come up for air. “That was delicious.”
Alec’s about to thank him with a kiss of his own, when he adds, “The steak wasn’t too shabby either,” and they’re off giggling again.
Alec doesn’t think he’ll ever not blush when Magnus compliments him, and trying to hide behind his hands only results in being called “all kinds of cute,” so he sucks up all the embarrassing-but-secretly-pleasing adjectives being thrown at him and tugs his tormentor in the direction of their bathroom for phase three of his recovery.
Once he’s plonked Magnus in a chair and plugged his nonsense with a fifth martini, Alec fills the lavish, claw-foot tub with water, adding the iridescent blend of unknown boosters that he knows has to be used sparingly else Magnus will be on a super-charged magic rush again for days to come.
Alec didn’t think his body, or their bed, could survive that again.
Or could they?
Magnus’ filthy laugh means he’s not the only one thinking dirty thoughts, but Alec hasn’t gone to all this trouble to have both of them wiped out at the end of it.
“Cut that out,” he warns, to no avail, as he pulls the menace to his unsteady feet and begins the ever-enjoyable task of ridding Magnus of his beautiful clothes.
Meanwhile, Magnus is taking every opportunity to derail his efforts with kisses here and caresses there, deaf to Alec’s admittedly half-hearted protestations when he starts to return the favour of undressing him. All of which makes it impossible not to reciprocate with eager touches of his own.
Alec tries one last time to be good, even as he’s stepping into the bubble-filled bath and pulling Magnus down to rest against him. “I’m supposed to be helping you get your energy back, Magnus, not encouraging you to spend more.”
Magnus gives a lazy shrug of his shoulders, even as his hands begin to wander. “Then we’ll just have to take things very, very slowly.”
Oh well. He tried.
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