Magnus can tell he’s gone past the point of no return, given Alec all the means to destroy him and break his heart more thoroughly than Camille herself. But the indication’s there, with gentle fingers and soft lips, that Alec’s handed such ammunition to Magnus to, with only the hope that the warlock won’t shatter his heart as well.

What starts out hesitant, alights quickly into something deep, familiar and certain. Unrushed – like Alec could never tire of holding the warlock’s face in his hands as though he’s more precious and delicate than glass, and like they could find new ways to kiss under the raining sunlight till the sun burnt out of light to give.