Possibly unpopoular opinion, but while I adore magic wielding Magnus, I don't necessarily asscociate Magnus with magic. Because magic is something he was born with, and had no influence over possessing.
More, I asscociate a scientific mind and curiosity with him, because that is what drove him to learn about his magic, expand and experiment with it. So for me, Magnus is a scholar and scientist at heart more than he is a mage.
Same why I asscociate the bow with Alec. Because he had no say over becoming a fighter, but he chose the bow.
Alec Lightwood's senior year had been going perfectly. He'd just finished a successful season as his school's quarterback, was still going strong with his longtime girlfriend, head-cheerleader Lydia Branwell, and his grades remained straight A's — that was until he realized he needed a theatre credit to graduate.
Forced to join his school's drama club and audition for a part in their upcoming play, Alec meets Magnus Bane. Free-spirited, openly bisexual, and extreme theatre geek Magnus Bane.
Even though the two immediately clash, Magnus helps Alec realize things about himself that he'd been keeping long hidden: from both himself and the people around him.
I don't even know. Just...gratuitous PWP inspired by Ida Maria's Bad Karma (the song is strongly suggested...it's good background :P)(Also, as per the pretense, you can assume this is at least somewhat OOC, yes?)
Magnus rolled his eyes as he wiped down the counter. They were back, no doubt to wreak havoc on the place and drive out all the customers yet again. He would never understand why in the hell high schoolers' parents let them have motorcycles anyway, much less why they needed them. Half the group looked like wimpy schoolboys dressed in leather, trying to pass themselves off as some sort of badasses when really all they were was a misfit group of rich kids with nothing better to do with their time but make Magnus' life miserable every day starting at 3:15 on the dot.
"Hey, fag!" One of them yelled across the room, getting a hearty chorus of laughs in response from his comrades. "Get me a coke, would you?"
Not for the first time, Magnus wished that one: he wasn't the only one out here for the moment and two: that he didn't need money for school because he definitely wouldn't be here in the first place if that was the case. But scholarships only went so far, and Columbia wasn't cheap regardless.
He grudgingly decided against inviting a perpetual lawsuit by spitting in the teenager's drink, choosing instead to seethe in his anger a few seconds more before turning from the fountain and donning a plastic smile, bringing it over to the table.
"Next time, less ice. Fucker," was the response when he set it down. Another round of chuckles, as if something intelligent had actually been uttered. He'd be shocked to the core if that were ever the case.
Magnus chose not to reply, simply giving a somewhat forced salute and whipping around, retreating back behind the counter to re-open his issue of Cosmo to the page with the Hottie of the Month. Fuck them if they wanted to give him shit about liking dick. He wasn't going to hide it.
Twenty minutes later, another ding of the bell on the door caused Magnus to raise his head in annoyance at having to potentially wait on another customer, just when he was reading about Joseph-Gordon Levitt's turn ons on page 246. His breath caught, however, when he saw who had entered out of the summer sun--fraying leather jacket donned as always, sweltering heat be damned.
Magnus didn't know what his name was, but the others always called him L. He'd actually spent a regrettable amount of time trying to figure out what it stood for. Lustworthy. Lascivious. Lick-Me-Please. Somehow he knew the ones he'd come up with were probably way off track, but that didn't mean they didn't describe him to perfection.
As L made his way across the room to the table of turdmonger--as Magnus affectionately referred to them--he watched in awe the way that obscenely round and perky ass molded and re-formed the denim casing that surrounded it with every step. Did straight boys actually wear jeans that tight? What was the purpose? If the aim was to drive Magnus completely insane, well. Job well done.
Unlike the rest of them, whom Magnus knew were mostly juniors and seniors in high school, L was more his own age. At least, that's what it seemed like. Magnus couldn't reason out why a 21-ish year old who looked like he could shred most of those boys with his teeth would hang out with them, considering he probably had much better company with the Hell's Angels or something. What absolutely killed Magnus, though, was that every now and then he'd catch a very boyish smirk cross L's face when it turned his way, as if he was thinking of things that he assumed Magnus would find horridly obscene. Little did Mr. Leather Jacket know Magnus was usually thinking downright deplorable things about him when he lay in his dorm bed at night.
"You just going to stand there all day, or can I get a beer?" His voice was even a contradiction; it was gritty and seductive while also being playful and teasing. Magnus only stared for a second longer before his brain kicked in gear. Really, he thought. An Ivy League-worthy intellect and I'm reduced to sludge at the sight of a dirty, sweaty biker boy.
He popped the top on a longneck and walked casually--which he was quite proud of--over to the table where L was now seated with the rest of the heathens. They were discussing--what else--some kind of rally they were all wanting to go to over the weekend. Predictably, the conversation was mostly focused on how they were going to dupe their parents.
"Mom put me on fucking lockdown for the summer thanks to you," the blond one, the most obnoxious, said to L.
"It's not my fucking fault you decided to kick up in the fucking front yard. What did you expect her to do?" L replied with a sneer of derision, underlaid with a thin plane of amusement.
"It is your fault she caught me. What the fuck did I ever do to you?" asked blondie.
"You came out of the womb," L shot back.
Magnus had had an inkling for a little while, and this exchange--which he shamelessly eavesdropped while slowly making his way back behind the counter--seemed to confirm it: they were brothers. The revelation seemed odd, as the younger was built, blond, golden-eyed, and basically a complete little shit while L was tall and lanky with sharp blue eyes and a pale complexion under his five o'clock shadow of stubble. Magnus just supposed one of them was adopted, though he guessed he'd never know which.
After he'd resigned himself back to his magazine instead of fawning over someone he most certainly should not want, the day passed as usual. The quintet hung around for a few more hours, drank a few more cokes, and generally made too much noise for Magnus' good sense. He waited until they finally left to pull out his notes for his PolySci exam the next day. Being nearly broke in the first place, with no help from his parents, Magnus was taking summer classes in an attempt to get ahead on a lower tuition budget.
"Quite the studious little nerd, aren't you?" came a low voice from just above his bent-over head. The crotch of Magnus' pants immediately tightened, and he plastered a bland expression on his face before he looked up, meeting blue eyes that held a hint of challenge, though he couldn't say to what end.
"What do you want?" he asked in return. He was proud of his snarl of disgust as well.
"For starters, I'd like to know what you find so interesting about my ass, seeing as I've caught you checking it like you were looking for the answer to an exam question more times than I can count."
Magnus nearly choked on the gum he'd been chewing. As it was, he accidentally swallowed it, but didn't leave himself time to regret it before steeling and retorting, "Someone's vain. How'd you catch that if your back was turned?"
"Sixth sense, baby. Eyes in the back of my head. Take your pick." His eyes were burning with challenge still, but Magnus wasn't backing down. Only, he wasn't prepared for belatedly picking up on the 'baby' endearment, and it left him spluttering for a second until he regained his snarky streak.
"What makes you think I'd want to check out your ass, hm?" he asked in his sassiest tone. "You fishing for a compliment? Because I'm not sure what I'm itching to insult more, your lack of hygiene or your fashion sense."
"I don't need to fish for compliments, baby. I know my ass is fantastic." And just then, Magnus' gaze was ripped from those blazing blue eyes when he heard a click just next to his face. L had pulled out a pocket knife--straight out of Grease, Magnus thought with a regretful stab of arousal--and popped it open, resting it against the fabric of Magnus' white apron. "I'm just looking for some honesty."
Magnus gulped a bit, realizing the seriousness of the situation all too quickly. Since he made no attempt to hide it, the others knew he was gay beyond a doubt. And now, L knew he'd continuously checked out his ass. Magnus wasn't stupid; he knew what boys like this did to fags, but he was just now coming to his senses and it looked like it was too late. He chanced a glance around the dining room; it was distressingly empty. Night had fallen outside in the city, and even with the large windows looking out on the busy street, Magnus knew somehow that no one would come running to save him if this man decided to slit his throat.
"Look, I'm sorry, okay. If having another man oogle your goodies makes you that uncomfortable, maybe you should take a look at yourself a little closer," he shot back with surprising confidence.
"I never said it made me uncomfortable, baby. Actually," and he removed the knife long enough to swing his legs over the counter, landing on the other side with a heavy thud of his thick black boots, "it makes me fucking hot."
This time, the knife came back to rest at Magnus' chest, and L worked it underneath the the string of fabric that hung the apron from his neck. With a flick of his wrist, the connection was severed, and within another two seconds, the string that went around his waist met the same fate. The stained, white apron fell to the floor.
"Now," L said, looking up from under his thick black lashes, replacing the blade to Magnus' chest and this time focusing on the button just under his collarbone. "I'd like for you to show me yours," he continued, grabbing a handful of Magnus' left ass cheek to indicate exactly what he was talking about. "It's only fair, don't you think? And while I know my ass is fantastic, yours looks downright edible." The statement was punctuated by a very deliberate slide of the tip of his tongue over his bottom lip, and Magnus couldn't fight the quiver that shot up his spine.
There was chaos going on in Magnus' head at the turn of events. It was difficult to go from terrified to aroused in such short succession, but somehow his body had managed it and he was now fighting pressing his throbbing erection into the rock hard thigh of a blue-eyed biker boy. He was sure his jaw was resting on the floor next to his defeated apron.
While he stood there stunned, said biker boy was apparently getting impatient. He flicked the blade again, and the top button of Magnus' shirt bounced to the floor. "As much as I'd love to fuck you right here on this counter," he whispered right into Magnus' ear, accompanying it with a nip to the earlobe that made his knees knock together in an attempt to hold him up, "I'd rather have you all to myself without prying eyes. How's about we check out what's cookin' baby?"
Magnus took a deep breath, which he let out on top of a wanton sigh of lust, and nodded his head. He turned and made his way through the door to the kitchen as L popped his blade back into the handle, tucking it away in his back pocket.
As soon as they'd rounded the corner and were out of sight of anyone who might enter the dining area of the restaurant, L shoved Magnus forward to bend over a stainless steel counter that usually housed boxes of new deliveries of vegetables. Luckily it was bare, and he jerked back at the cool press of metal against his scorching skin.
When he didn't feel any other contact for a few seconds, he reached a hand back to grasp at the tight denim that encased a muscular thigh. The glorious tattered leather jacket he'd fantasized about sliding his hands underneath for weeks hit the counter next to his face, and all of a sudden, strong hands were flipping him around. Before he could process the change in position, a fucking gloriously hard cock was being pressed alongside his own through two layers of jeans and underwear. He might have let out some kind of animalistic groan, but he couldn't be sure.
In a paradoxically sure fumble of fingers, his own jeans were unbuttoned and yanked down along with his briefs to his ankles, where he kicked off his shoes and let them fall the rest of the way off his feet. Again, in a quick flurry of motion, he was lifted up onto the counter, his ass barely resting on the edge and his legs slung over strong forearms. L's pants had been pushed to the middle of his thighs, exposing a fucking amazing cock, thick and hard and straining.
Magnus lifted a hand to wet his own fingers, to get himself ready, but he was surprised when his legs were hoisted into L's hands, the other man crouching down a bit. All of a sudden there was a hot wetness swiping over his hole, and he threw his head back against the metal counter.
"Jesus--fuck--!" he croaked as a tense, wet muscle probed into him with no other goal than to slick him up. After a few moments, a finger worked its way inside him alongside the tongue, and he couldn't help squirming against it, trying to fuck himself down on it. His hips circled and grinded against the intrusion, and as much as he knew that he needed prep for the cock that was about to slide into him, he couldn't find it in himself to care for the waiting.
"Fuck just--I'm ready, just--please," he panted, rolling his hips one more time as another finger slid in beside the first. His groans echoed off the cold walls of the kitchen, and he idly wondered how he would ever be able to think of this place the same way again. He doubted that would be possible.
"But you taste so fucking good, baby," came the growl from beneath him, and he felt the hot rush of air against his slick entrance. "Just a little more..."
Christ, but Magnus was horny now. Sometime later, he would lie in bed confused as to how the situation had gone from 'oh god, he's going to slit my throat' to 'oh god, I want him to come down my throat' in just a matter of moments. But for right now he was content to not use any of that Ivy League intellect at all, because holy motherfucking shit this man was good with his tongue.
Even though he'd been the one to be impatient just a minute ago, Magnus whined when he felt the fingers and tongue leave him. However, the beautiful sound of a package being ripped open reminded him that there was something oh so much better coming soon.
The backs of his knees once again rested in the crook of the man's elbows, and he felt an insistent push at his entrance, L's cockhead straining for access. He rolled his hips again, forcing the head of that beautiful dick inside of him, and he gave a cry of ecstasy at the full feeling of just that.
"Since you're so eager for it, why don't you show me how much you like it, baby," L crooned into his ear as Magnus propped himself up, planting his palms on the counter behind him so their faces were closer together. L pushed in a little further, and Magnus' head fell back again, accompanying another gutteral moan of pleasure and subsequent shiver from his toes to the tips of his hair. He sucked in a breath through his teeth as L's voice sounded in his ear again. "Show me how much you want it, beautiful. Ride this cock like it was made for you."
And oh fuck if that wasn't the fucking hottest thing he'd ever heard. There was nothing else he could do but oblige the man. He braced himself with his hands, and rolled his hips again, harder this time. L's cock was now fully inside him, and he let himself revel for a small moment before grinding his hips again.
Pretty soon he could feel the ache in his abdominal muscles from the strain of constant contracting, but he couldn't find it in him to give a shit. The fullness inside him, the fingers digging into the soft spot behind his thighs, the grunts, groans, and oh fuck yes, fuck, baby yes's coming from above him, all of it was churning together into a tight knot of pleasure at the base of his spine that was threatening to burst in record time.
In the end, it took two quick twists of a strong wrist and he was arching backwards with a shout as he came all over his own stomach and L's hand. He was still shaking and biting his lip when he felt suddenly empty, and he almost cried from the oversensitivity when the cock pulled out of him. He didn't have time to think before the condom was discarded and that cock was in his mouth, spewing hot, salty thickness down the column of his throat. He found himself milking it with his tongue and throat, sucking hard and greedy, until it would give him no more.
When L pulled back and immediately yanked his jeans back up over his falling erection, Magnus was slumping backwards onto the counter, completely boneless and sated, kind of still not knowing what the fuck just happened. He was working on remembering his own name when he felt another soft brush of hot breath against his ear.
"Not a word, pretty boy."
And just like that, he heard the back door slam followed by a howling grumble as the blue Harley he knew so well from afar was revved up twice before speeding away into the night.
He pulled off his thoroughly fogged glasses and wiped them on his shirt, grabbing his pants and underwear with weak arms and shakey legs.
When the heathen brigade came crashing in the next day, L wasn't with them. Magnus let himself think all day that he hadn't been the only one who'd gotten completely worn out. And that thought kept the smile glued to his face for the rest of his shift.
