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He is rushing, his limbs shaking, his chest heaving. Clumsily, he tries to unbutton his shirt. His hands, always steady, always reliable, are now failing him, and he can feel the throbbing of his heart, resonating in his ears. He is not nervous because this is the first time he has done this. He is nervous because it is Magnus, in front of him. Magnus, 400 years old. Magnus, with an endless list of unforgettable nights in his memory. It is not only that he thinks that for the warlock, this will be simply one more time, one more lover. It is… him. His eyes make him lose focus. His gaze is electrifying, magnetic. Magnus, Magnus, Magnus. It is him. He wants him. Alec feels exposed, vulnerable, inexperienced. He veils his uneasiness with hastiness, his anxiety with passion. His mouth is hungry against the older man’s, devouring, careless. He wants to prove it to him. He will prove it to him.
Magnus makes him stop. He looks up at him, eyes full with meaning. Gently, he takes his hand and kisses the skin below his wrist, slowly, almost reverentially. Alec swallows, embarrassed at his nervousness. He cups Magnus’s cheek with the hand the warlock is still holding. He is still, their eyes locked. Alec’s hand is insecure, shaky, on the warm skin of his lover. He caresses his lips with his thumb. Magnus closes his eyes and sighs at the contact. Alec looks at him, without moving, quiet. Everything is still. His heart quivers, and he bends down on his knees, his anxiety dispelled to the back of his mind. He listens to the stillness in the room, to his own breathing, to Magnus’s soft gasp when he finally, all heart, kisses him.
He has been awake for a while.
He is looking up at the ceiling, lost in his thoughts, in the sensorial memories still fresh, still real, still happening. Shadows of kisses in his skin, ghostly fingers in his chest, the recollection of the feeling in his nape when he kissed him there. The ease with which his body accommodated to his own, the simplicity of their caresses, the artlessness of their movements.
“What are you thinking about, Alexander?” his voice is a whisper, naked, honest.
Alec turns his head to face him. He looks at him with a new tenderness in his eyes.
“About you.” He answers, truthfully.
Magnus lifts his hand to caress his jaw and the line of his neck, leaving a trail of goose bumps behind. Alec closes his eyes and abandons himself to the sensation. Magnus tilts his head and kisses the hollow of his neck, his hands on his chest. Alec sighs and buries his hands in his black hair, today sparkled with bright purple locks. They are still, Alec’s chin on the top of his head, their fingers playing with each other, their hearts beating against one another.
It is dawn, and a faint light is starting to bring the room to life. Alec contemplates the changing tonalities of the breaking day while caressing Magnus’s spine with two fingers. He thinks he could remain like this forever, away from the world, just them, together, in silent communion, but feels an immediate pang of regret, his responsibility towards his friends, family and work itching. But not today, not now. Magnus seems to have felt it too, because he moves slightly, leaning his head against his shoulder, and, in a delicate way, traces the lines of the runes in his arms.
“Kadang-kadang aku bertanya-tanya apakah mereka menyakiti Anda.” He says, to himself.
“I can’t understand you.”
Magnus looks up at him.
“Meskipun saya tahu mereka tidak, aku berharap aku bisa menghapus tanda dari tubuh Anda dengan jari-jari saya dan bibir saya.”
He kisses the rune on his neck.
“Kesedihan, sakit itu.”
“Magnus…”
“Diamlah menjadi milikku, kekasihku.” He places one hand on his heart and kisses his lips.
“Yes, Alexander?”
“This… I… it feels good.”
Magnus smiles and kisses him again. Alec kisses him back, slowly, as if he wanted to never forget the shape of his lips, the softness of his skin. He runs his nails down his flank, and Magnus arches his back slightly.
"I can't do that..." Alec muses, without judgement in his voice.
"Do what?" Magnus's lips play against his neck.
"Say things you cannot understand. I think I know what you are saying, but I can't be sure. And I know why you do it. I understand how it is easier to say things in your native language, how they are... truer."
Magnus waits, embracing him, his arms around his waist.
"What I mean to say is... I also have things, feelings, that I don't know how to put into words. I try, but they are not true enough."
He looks down at Magnus and touches the bridge of his nose with the tip of his finger.
"Do you understand?"
"I do. But I disagree."
Alec frowns. Magnus can't help but laugh at the familiar expression. He places two fingers between his brows with an amused smile. Alec relaxes the gesture.
"You do say what you want to say. With your body. With your eyes. Even with your breathing. I only need to listen, to understand what it is that you want me to know. It's simple."
Alec looks at him. It is not wonder in his eyes, but calm resolution. Satisfaction. Joy.
"I have some more things to say, then." and he kisses him, like he kissed him that first time. It is not only a kiss, but a statement. An understanding. And he knows. He knows.
They feel as if they could melt in kisses and caresses, their limbs interwoven, their hands slow and steady as the light of the new day plays with the shadows of the morning.