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Magnus Bane prided himself on his self-control; he had centuries and centuries of practice, after all. Whether it was resisting the urge to buy a particularly expensive piece of jewelry or stopping himself from catching fire to his more demanding clients, he always managed to rein in his first instinct and think twice.

However, Alec happened to be very good at picking him apart, and could be quite distracting when he wanted to be. Especially when he happened to be in Magnus’s favorite spot, which was, unsurprisingly, between his legs.

Lips trailed kisses down his chest, hot and biting as they curved over his ribs and across his sides. Alec’s hands were already making quick work of his jeans, peeling them down enough for Magnus to kick them off himself. He was writhing under Alec’s touch, arching and swallowing down quiet gasps, long fingers curling into silk bedsheets as Alec’s mouth dipped lower and lower.

They were just below his rib cage now, placing nipping kisses where his navel should have been, if he were human, or at least if he were something besides a warlock. Alec had learned quickly that that spot happened to be particularly sensitive. Pleasure coiled in the pit of Magnus’s stomach and he found himself fighting off a low groan. He felt Alec smile against his skin. Smug bastard.

And then his phone rang.

It was a jarring sound, interrupting the breathless silence Magnus had been enjoying. Annoyance trickled through him, and he narrowly stopped himself from tossing the damn thing across the room. Instead, he reached out blindly and felt around his bedside table until his fingertips connected with it.

Alec frowned up at him, bottle blue eyes narrowed. “Don’t answer that.”

But after peering at the screen, Magnus answered it anyway. It was a client, and he was always on call. He took a second to compose himself, to be sure his voice would be steady, before answering. “Bane.”

“Mr. Bane.” The vampire’s voice tinkled across the line, a high falsetto that Magnus wasn’t completely convinced was actually real. He chose to focus on that instead of the way Alec continued kissing at his stomach, moving down to pay attention to the jut of his hips. “I wished to discuss the progress of your work.”

Alec bit his hip unkindly. Magnus clenched his jaw and breathed slowly out his nose. “Of course,” he said in a level voice. “What can I do for you, Miss Montgomery?”

“You said you’d have to place an order in to get some special materials.” Whatever she said next, Magnus didn’t hear, as Alec was tugging down his boxers, effectively distracting him. He trained his attention on the Shadowhunter briefly, debating whether or not stopping him was a good idea. When Alec started pressing kisses at the insides of his thighs, sending jolts of white hot pleasure all the way through his body, he decided stopping him would most definitely be a bad idea, and tried to refocus his attention on the conversation at hand.

“I-I’m sorry, could you repeat that last part?” He squeezed his eyes shut, swallowing hard as Alec’s lips got creepingly close to their destination.

The disapproval was clear in the vampire’s voice when she repeated herself. “What is the status of that order, Mr. Bane?”

Oh, right. The order. He vaguely remembered placing one yesterday morning, but he couldn’t for the life of him remember for what. Not when Alec’s hands were pressing his hips to the bed, nails digging into the flesh hard enough to leave little crescents, and possibly bruises. He pushed through the thick haze of pleasure blanketing his mind. “Your order,” he said, breath hitching slightly when Alec nipped his thigh. “Your order was placed yesterday morning.”

Magnus glanced down, which turned out to be a huge mistake. While Alec was still working on leaving his thighs and hips littered with marks from various scratches and bites, he was looking up at him through his lashes, and there was nothing but pure, untainted lust in those eyes. If his touches weren’t doing the trick, then that look sure as hell did. His hand tightened on the phone and he arched his hips forward, a silent plea. “Christ, Alec,” he breathed.

“Excuse me?”

It took Magnus a moment to remember what they’d been discussing. “It should be in by Friday.” His voice broke on the last word.

Finally, Alec’s lips reached his cock. It was like his brain disconnected for a moment, too clouded by the pleasure to function properly. If his client was speaking to him, he couldn’t hear it, didn’t want to hear it. As a matter of fact, he barely had enough mind to end the call before he let a sharp “Fuck!” tumble uncensored from his mouth. Lips, hot and wet and incredible, wrapped around the head of his cock, inching downwards at a torturous pace. Every time he tried to jerk his hips up, to get more friction and more pleasure, Alec would tighten his grip on his hips.

This, he knew, was what he got for answering a phone call during sex.

He pushed down a whine that rose in the back of his throat. “Alec...” He wasn’t above begging. He was a man of pride, but he was also a man of want, and they both knew that. So neither were surprised when he huffed a short breath and finally did so. “Christ, Alec, please, just--”

That seemed to do the trick. Alec bobbed his head downwards, using his tongue expertly, just as Magnus had taught him. It wasn’t so much teasing anymore as it was satisfying, all warmth and pleasure that made Magnus’s heart thump in his ears. His self-control was slipping; he could feel his magic warming his skin, humming in his veins much like his blood did. It escaped from his fingertips in the form of bright blue sparks, sprinkling across the bedsheets he still gripped between his fingers. Heat flicked across his body like flames, building slowly into a crescendo. He was close, so close, about to step up to the edge of that cliff and--

And just like that, Alec pulled away. The absence of his mouth on Magnus’s cock hit so suddenly that the warlock jerked, cat eyes snapping wide open to meet deep blue ones.

“I’m hungry,” Alec said, and as he did so, he moved backwards, sliding off the bed.

Magnus stared. He was aching with the loss of contact, and admittedly, his brain wasn’t exactly processing what he was hearing. “You’re-- what?”

“Hungry,” Alec repeated. With his chest bare and his jeans slung tantalizingly low on his hips, he padded toward the door. Magnus had just a moment to dazedly admire the dark Marks that curled over his shoulders and across his back before he turned around, wearing a smile so pleased and pretty, that Magnus’s train of thought scattered all over again. “Next time,” he said in a calm voice, “You won’t answer your damn phone.” Then he disappeared through the doorway and into the rest of the loft.

A groan of frustration wrung from Magnus’s throat as he fell back against his mountain of pillows, covering his face with his hands. Next time, he thought, he’d just turn his phone off.