[as usual, while Alex moves with precise motions and dangerous beauty, Magnus -- standing in his boxers, barefooted -- is a clumsy idiot, has his head stuck halfway through his t-shirt. after freezing somewhat at the statement, he struggles for a moment in figuring out where the collar of his shirt is and where his armpit is supposed to go. his hair is a mussed mess after he manages to puzzle it out, tugging it down over himself, though as to what Alex is saying -- that remains a puzzle]
[his cheeks heat. they'd talked about "christening," tangled up hot and heavy in the tent, but it's like with the increase of space around them there's been -- an increase of space between them. Magnus has been skittish, stopping and starting as usual, when it comes to physical intimacy. he'd just been relieved they were sharing the same bed most nights, and then everything had gone a little crazy]
[his hands curl uncertainly at the hem of his t-shirt, even as his eyes drop to -- then snap back up from -- those (incredibly soft and delicate looking) satin panties. Alex looks like a pin-up and is talking about christening the house, and his brain isn't entirely sure what's happening]
...I'm not submitting to that fate. I'll reverse-consecrate all the couches in the name of Frey. A thousand years bad boner luck, if they try to fool around in our house.
[an answer to the wrong part of the question; Magnus fumbles at the bedside table, for a hair tye]
[ gods, why does she love this idiot? he's awkward on the best of days, he gets flustered if she so much as winks at him, and look at that blush.. (who is she kidding, these are all some of the traits she loves best about him.) she pushes off the door and crosses toward him, taking the tie out of his hands and reaching up herself to smooth her fingers through his hair, gathering it in a hand and looping the elastic around it.
when she's done, she pulls him down for a kiss, nosing against his cheek as she eases back again. ]
Not the point of what I just said, but don't you think Odin already has bad enough romantic luck? [ she loops her arms around his waist, fingers lacing together at the small of his back as she fits herself in close enough that they're pressed together from the chest down. ]
[he tilts his head obligingly into her fingers, grey eyes dropped somewhere around her beauty mark instead of her gaze. the kiss rights that, and he meets her eyes as he exhales a more relaxed breath against her after it. she tastes so sweet, he always just wants to fall into her, can't help but let his guard down and invite her in]
-- It's our hippie home. Not a frat house. There's... [he gets distracted, with the sharp press of her against him. sliding a hand into that tumble of unruly hair, he tries again;] That is, I mean. He can try his luck somewhere else.
Good luck with telling him that. [ she noses into his throat, then up against the line of his jaw, humming out a pleased noise. ] You know Odin. And if he's going to be coming to live with us for a while soon, there goes our privacy. [ she fully expects odin to just bust in on them whenever he feels like it. he doesn't mean any harm, of course, he's just.. kind of oblivious sometimes.
she unlaces her fingers again, palms sliding around to gently grip his hips, thumbs sliding beneath fabric to rub his hipbones. ]
.. I really want to touch you. And I think you want me to. --Do you? [ she trusts magnus to know what his limits are and to be honest about them, and that's-- she realizes sometimes how lucky they both are, that they communicate this well together. ]
[his breath shortens, like it typically does, at her touch against his bare skin. she frequently rubs his hipbones like that, lately, and frankly Magnus doesn't know if it's more arousing or calming. he thinks a bunch of stupid, hopeless things about Alex's literally magic touch, and shivers under her ministrations. the hand he's curled into Alex's hair twitches, tightens slightly as he tilts her face up. he presses their lips together, deepening the kiss, savouring the feeling]
[(it's never been that he doesn't want Alex's touch. that's never been the issue)]
Y...yeah. I do. Want you to.
[it's such an understatement he almost feels like bursting out into laughter. it's not just that he lies awake at night thinking of Alex touching him, or that he dreams about it, wakes up flustered and short of breath; thoughts of Alex's skin on his occupy him in the sunlit hours, just as much. but there's nerves and hesitance and Limits in the way he clarifies, not quite bowing into that arc of her;]
Not because of Odin or Peter. ...Not because we won't have, privacy, soon.
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[his cheeks heat. they'd talked about "christening," tangled up hot and heavy in the tent, but it's like with the increase of space around them there's been -- an increase of space between them. Magnus has been skittish, stopping and starting as usual, when it comes to physical intimacy. he'd just been relieved they were sharing the same bed most nights, and then everything had gone a little crazy]
[his hands curl uncertainly at the hem of his t-shirt, even as his eyes drop to -- then snap back up from -- those (incredibly soft and delicate looking) satin panties. Alex looks like a pin-up and is talking about christening the house, and his brain isn't entirely sure what's happening]
...I'm not submitting to that fate. I'll reverse-consecrate all the couches in the name of Frey. A thousand years bad boner luck, if they try to fool around in our house.
[an answer to the wrong part of the question; Magnus fumbles at the bedside table, for a hair tye]
no subject
when she's done, she pulls him down for a kiss, nosing against his cheek as she eases back again. ]
Not the point of what I just said, but don't you think Odin already has bad enough romantic luck? [ she loops her arms around his waist, fingers lacing together at the small of his back as she fits herself in close enough that they're pressed together from the chest down. ]
no subject
-- It's our hippie home. Not a frat house. There's... [he gets distracted, with the sharp press of her against him. sliding a hand into that tumble of unruly hair, he tries again;] That is, I mean. He can try his luck somewhere else.
no subject
she unlaces her fingers again, palms sliding around to gently grip his hips, thumbs sliding beneath fabric to rub his hipbones. ]
.. I really want to touch you. And I think you want me to. --Do you? [ she trusts magnus to know what his limits are and to be honest about them, and that's-- she realizes sometimes how lucky they both are, that they communicate this well together. ]
no subject
[(it's never been that he doesn't want Alex's touch. that's never been the issue)]
Y...yeah. I do. Want you to.
[it's such an understatement he almost feels like bursting out into laughter. it's not just that he lies awake at night thinking of Alex touching him, or that he dreams about it, wakes up flustered and short of breath; thoughts of Alex's skin on his occupy him in the sunlit hours, just as much. but there's nerves and hesitance and Limits in the way he clarifies, not quite bowing into that arc of her;]
Not because of Odin or Peter. ...Not because we won't have, privacy, soon.