Chapter 14
Alaric
The rain hasn’t stopped since I left my condo. It’s steady, cold, and soaking through every layer I have by the time Magnus opens the door.
He looks worse than I imagined. His eyes are bloodshot, hair wild, face drawn and pale. The hoodie he’s wearing is inside out, the seam visible across his collarbone. He’s barefoot.
“Alaric.” His voice cracks on my name. He’s holding the phone like he forgot to hang up.
I should be angry. I should tell him he scared the hell out of me, calling drunk in the middle of the night, saying he’s not enough for me, that he’d be fine being my secret. Instead, I look at him—at the mess of him—and all I can think is that he looks small. Not weak, not fragile, just… human.
I step inside. The apartment is dimly lit, the smell of whiskey hanging heavy in the air. There’s a half-empty bottle on the table, a hockey stick leaning against the wall, clothes scattered across the couch. It’s ordinary, lived-in, and for some reason, that makes my chest ache.
Magnus stares at me like I’m a hallucination. “You actually came.”
“I did.” I kick off my shoes, water pooling on his floor. “You didn’t sound good.”
He gives a humorless laugh. “You drove across the city because I didn’t sound good?”
“Because you sounded broken,” I say quietly.
He flinches. “Guess I’m worse at hiding it than I thought.”
“Guess I’m worse at pretending I don’t care,” I shoot back.
The silence between us is thick enough to choke on. He looks at me for a long moment before stepping aside to let me in fully. I move past him, the air in here warm and still compared to the rain outside.
It’s a small place—one bedroom, a galley kitchen, half the square footage of my condo—but it feels lived in. There’s a half-finished puzzle on the table, a few old game pucks lined up on a shelf, a plant by the window that’s somehow still alive. It’s messy but… him.
He’s watching me observe his place. I can feel the tension roll off him. “Not what you’re used to, huh?” he says, his tone sharp to cover the insecurity underneath.
“It’s nice,” I say.
“It’s small. Cramped. The bathroom door sticks. The heater’s loud.”
“Magnus.”
He stops.
I meet his eyes. “It’s home.”
He swallows, his throat working. “You’re dripping on my rug, Ice Prince.”
“Then hand me a towel instead of insulting me,” I mutter.
That makes him laugh and it’s such a relief I almost join in. He disappears into the bathroom, returns with an old towel that smells like detergent and cedar. I dry my hair with it, then toss it over a chair.
“Feel better?” he asks.
“Not really,” I say. “You?”
He shrugs, leaning against the counter, arms folded across his chest. The fabric of his hoodie stretches tight over his shoulders. “I’ve been worse.”
“I know.”
He studies me, eyes narrowing slightly. “How did you know where I live, Al?”
I hesitate before admitting, “I hired a PI to do some digging a few months ago.”
He blinks, then barks a short laugh. “You what?”
“I wasn’t going to let you know where I lived and not the other way around.”
Magnus shakes his head, grinning like he can’t believe it. “You really hired a PI? Jesus, Hale. You’re obsessed with me, huh?”
The words sting more than they should. I turn away, pretending to inspect his bookshelf. “Don’t flatter yourself.”
He pushes off the counter and moves closer, his presence filling the small space. “Not flattery,” he says quietly. “Just fact.”
I ignore him, crossing to the kitchen sink and turning on the water. The pipes rattle. He’s not lying about the noise. I fill up a coffee mug I assume is clean and push it into his hands. “You need a shower,” I say, glancing back at him.
He swallows it down and looks down at himself like he’s just noticing the state he’s in—dried sweat and blood. “Yeah,” he mutters. “Probably.”
“Go.”
He smirks. “What, you gonna stand guard outside the door?”
I take him by the hand, trying not to notice the amount of times he stumbles or leans on me to get to the bathroom.
I sit him down on the toilet and start the water, the pipes groaning in protest.
The sound of the shower is steady now, the smell of steam drifting into the air. I rub my hands together, trying to chase off the cold.
“Alaric.” He’s shirtless, new bruises blooming across his chest. “Thank you.”
Something cracks in my chest. “Of course.”
I help him undress, and he gets in the shower. “Hey?”
“What?”
“Come here.”
I laugh. “I’m fine out here.”
The curtain slides open halfway. He’s dripping wet, hair plastered to his forehead, steam rising off his skin. He looks raw and stripped down in every way that matters.
He smirks. “I wasn’t asking, prince.”
“Magnus—”
“Just—don’t argue. Please.”
His voice cracks on the word please. That’s what does it. I step forward, pulling off my shirt and pants, leaving my briefs on. The water hits me instantly—hot, relentless, stinging my cold skin.
He pulls me in closer, hands at my shoulders. The shower’s barely big enough for both of us because of the built-in seat protruding from the wall. I can feel the tremor in him even as he tries to hide it.
“I didn’t mean to scare you,” he says, voice muffled by the sound of water.
“You didn’t.”
“I did. You wouldn’t be here otherwise.”
“Maybe I wanted to be here,” I say, softer than I mean to.
That stops him. For a second, he just looks at me, really looks, eyes searching like he’s waiting for me to take it back.
“I’m sorry,” he says again, but this time it’s not for me. It’s for himself.
I kiss his cheeks, letting the water warm him up. “You don’t have to keep apologizing. Just… get cleaned up.”
Then he reaches for me—gentle this time. His hand finds my wrist and tugs until I’m closer again.
“You can stop worrying,” he murmurs. “I’m okay now.”
“Sure you are,” I say dryly.
He grins, but it fades as his gaze drops to my mouth. The air shifts. The sound of the water fills the space where our words should be.
“No. You need sleep more than you need me right now.”
“That’s debatable.”
When he kisses me, it’s not rough. It’s soft. Careful. Like he’s afraid I’ll disappear if he pushes too hard.
I let him. Just for a second. Because despite everything, despite how wrong this is, it feels right. His hand slides up to my jaw, thumb brushing the corner of my mouth. I taste whiskey and regret. His tongue slides into my mouth, and I open to him.
I’ve missed him. His grounding touch, the feel of his skin. A small moan escapes my throat.
He pushes me against the tile walls. Magnus is only a few inches taller than me, but I feel caged by him. His hands pin mine against the wall.
His tongue traces up my neck, causing my underwear to become tented. “Alaric...” Magnus’s cock presses against my lower stomach. “I can’t believe you came for me.”
Another sloppy, mind-numbing kiss. A hand pulling down my briefs.
“Magnus, you’re drunk.” I try to reason.
His hand passes over me, making me shudder against him despite the warm water. “Yeah, but you’re naked in my shower. And I’m turned on that my sweet boy came to save me. Don’t worry, baby. You can take advantage of me.”
I need to focus, but now his mouth is on my nipple. His tongue toying with the raised bud. My head falls against the tile. “Mags...”
What was I doing again?
A growl vibrates in his chest. “Yeah, keep saying my name.”
Magnus pulls my hips towards his, a finger sliding into my entrance. “Magnus, we can’t—ah!”
My hips start grinding against his without my permission. Fuck, he’s so good at making me fall apart in his hands.
“Turn around. I wanna hear you jack off.” Magnus nips at my earlobe, finger sliding out of me.
I obey, like the horny bastard I am. My hand starts pumping, making lewd wet sounds from the shower.
His hands spread my ass cheeks apart as he gets to his knees.
“Mags, you don’t have to.”
But his skilled tongue is already inside me.
“God, yes.” My forehead presses against the wall, water dripping down my face. “Oh, fuck.”
His large hand cups my balls, squeezing gently. He groans into me, vibrating right down into my bones.
“Magnus, please slow down. I’m going to...fuck. Mags, I’m here to take care of...you.” But every time I try to reason with him, this monster pushes me closer and closer to the edge.
He stands suddenly, wobbling slightly.
I sigh in relief as his hands release me. “Why don’t we actually shower and go to bed?”
But his large hands are pulling at my hips again. He sits on the shower seat and pulls me against him. “I’m too dizzy to fuck you properly, so you’ll have to do the work for me.”
His dick slides between my ass cheeks. “We shouldn’t...”
Magnus’s hand trails up to my neck, squeezing lightly. “I wasn’t asking. Fucking bounce on me, Alaric.”
I whimper at his desperate tone, spreading my ass and letting him line up with my entrance.
“God, you’re so pretty.” He kisses my spine sloppily as I sink down onto him.
“It’s too deep,” I gasp.
“You’re almost there.” Magnus tries to keep his words steady. “You can take me.”
His hands yank my hips down, causing me to yell out.
“Shh, you’re doing great. Touch yourself, baby. Use me all you want.” His voice is silk against my skin.
My hand pumps against myself—once, twice. I’m full to the brim with him, and I can feel Magnus twitching with excitement.
His fingers pinch my nipples.
“Oh...” I start to move. Oh fuck, he’s at the perfect spot.
“Yes, Alaric. Use me.” His hands scrape against my thighs.
The hot water is making me burn up. His callused hands making pre cum leak from my hard cock. “Magnus, Magnus. Oh, fuck. Ah!”
“Come for me. Please Alaric. Fuck, you’re so tight. I’m not gonna last—”
The small bathroom fills with vulgar squelching and rugged moans.