I don’t type anything clear. Just:Still thinking about you.
The three dots appear almost immediately. My heart slams.
His reply:Do I need to block you, Flint?
I laugh out loud, sharp and breathless. He’s playing. He wouldn’t have let me in if he didn’t want this.
I type back, fingers flying:Try. See how long it takes before you let me back in.
Pause. The dots blink.
Are you drunk?
Maybe,I reply.
It’s 1pm...
I smile as I type.On a Saturday ;)
Whatever game you’re playing, pick someone else. I’m not interested.
My laugh is harsh, echoing in the empty apartment. Not interested—yeah, that’s why he approved my request within minutes. That’s why his replies are coming quick, clipped, like he’s trying to prove something.
Funny. You didn’t look “not interested” last night when you were grinding against me.
The dots vanish. A long pause. For a second, I wonder if he really did block me. My chest twists, ugly and desperate. Then?—
Alaric:You’re disgusting.
Magnus:And yet you still haven’t stopped talking to me.
Another pause. Shorter this time.
Alaric: Because if I ignore you, you’ll just get louder.
Magnus:Smart. You know I don’t quit easily.
Alaric:This isn’t funny. You could ruin both of us if anyone saw these messages.
Magnus:Then don’t show anyone, baby.
My fingers fly faster, drunk courage spurring me.
You don’t get it, Hale. I’ve been thinking about you all night. The way you came apart in my hands... I want to run you ragged.
I stop, a grin curling my mouth. Type the last part slowly…I want more.
The dots flicker, stop, flicker again. He’s pacing, I imagine. Running a hand through that silvery hair. Fighting with himself.
Finally—
Alaric:What if I don’t want that?
Magnus:Then say you don’t. We’ll go back to fighting on the ice.
I can’t make any promises that it won’t turn me on now.
Alaric:You’re wrong. This is nothing. Just… a mistake.
