"Thank you for the compliment", I reply timidly.

"Where did you get that good piece? It's really old." What? What is he talking about? Alec pushes himself off the doorframe, crosses the room and stops in front of my desk. His fingers run over the wooden top, a smile gracing his mouth. The dark wood is a stark contrast to his pale skin. The desk. He's talking about my desk.

"Classic colour scheme. Mahogany. Dark brown. The red of the writing desk harmonises very well with the gold embossing. Incredibly beautiful." His hands lovingly run over the side panels, feeling every detail, the soft whisper of his voice, the passion and rapture in the timbre. I take it all in, soaking up every movement of his body. Why does this delight me so?

I watch him as his eyes take in every inch of the table. His mouth moves slightly, but no sound escapes. His expert gaze, the way he touches the wood, his long fingers running around the brass fittings and handles convey to me the love he has for his profession. Alec is in his own little world right now. He kneels to my left and carefully opens the drawers, looking at the gluing and workmanship of the individual elements. He nods approvingly and after each drawer is closed, his thumb strokes dreamily over the fittings on the handle. The top drawer sticks a little. But Alec is a professional and opens it with light pressure and a gentle pull.

"The drawer is stuck a bit. Probably warped. I'll have a look at it over the next few days", he says expertly and a thought occurs to me.

"The key is missing for the centre drawer. I have no idea what's in there. It's an heirloom from my mother." Alec grips my legs, lets the chair roll back a little, and so kneels in front of me, between my legs. My knees lightly touch his shoulders, I try not to move and stare spellbound at the back of his head. Those soft wispy hairs, deep black illuminated by the dull glow of the small lamp. Automatically, my fingertips begin to tingle. Already after waking up in Vegas I felt this sense of familiarity and remembrance. But in my head there was a yawning emptiness and that is still the case. I don't remember Alec, or the wedding, or our sex. But my body does remember.

"I can manage that too", says Alec, turning slowly. His eyes fix on mine and the image in my head what inevitably forms from this position is very clear. He licks his lips, first the upper, then the lower. Soft pink and the sight of that sensual tip leaves goosebumps on my body.

"Magnus." I swallow dryly as Alec says my name. Many things I love in a man. Some more, some less. But at the top of the list, is a deep raspy voice. That raspy sound like just after waking up. The smoky one from the back of his throat. Firmly, decisively, without any doubt, my name sounds from his mouth. Alec's hands run briskly over my lower legs and before I can think any more about it, his hands come to rest on my knees. His fingers draw small circles and a joyful tingling sensation runs through my legs.

"What's that Magnus?", asks Alec. His gaze is still firmly fixed on me. I still haven't moved. I'm too caught up in the blue of his eyes and the grip of his hands, which by now are on my thighs. Both thumbs press lightly into the skin on the insides, a sensitive spot, and my penis twitches treacherously. I try not to lose my temper, a moan would be very inappropriate now. Alec's head turns in the direction of his question and I don't have to look to know what he means.

"It's a bookshelf", I answer his question. He doesn't seem to notice my quickened breathing. At least he doesn't say anything. Instead, Alec snorts snidely. A flash of his eyes, a spark of sarcasm.

"That's not a bookshelf. Those are boards that used to be next to boards that were once going to be a bookshelf", he says with a pinch of arrogance and every ounce of self-assurance in his voice.

Another component I love in a man. Self-confidence. Knowing that he knows what he wants and goes for it. But at the same time pays attention to his partner and makes him feel good. As if it were a matter of course, Alec's hands wander under the hem of my shirt. The fingertips feel my skin, fly light as a feather over my belly and I feel hot. My body reacts immediately to this touch. A pleasant shiver seizes me, Alec strokes my sides, exposing more of my skin with each inch his exploring hands slide further over my body.

With a longing gaze he looks at my exposed torso. His strong hands clasp my sides above the ribcage, lingering there, and Alec looks deep into my eyes. The blue of his irises is darker, a veil of lust lies over the otherwise radiant colour. His hand glides deliberately over my chest, coming to rest above my heart. The drumming in my chest increases and I swear I have never wanted a man as much as I do at this moment. A deep growl from his throat, I close my eyes and surrender to the intoxicating feeling of his hands on my skin.

Pure desire flows through my veins like liquid poison. My heart beats up to my throat.

"Get up", says Alec in a firm voice. My mind goes on holiday, I don't know when it will come back and I don't care at the moment. So don't care. Alec slips the shirt over my head and just lets it fall to the floor. He scans my body with a hungry gaze and sparkling eyes. His hands fly gossamer over my neck, gently caressing the collarbone and a fire spreads through me. Gently, his fingertips stimulate my nipples, circling, placing light pressure on the hard mound. My eyelids flutter, my breath comes in bursts and my hard penis presses against my trousers.

His dark eyes fix on mine and I see lust shimmering in them. Fascinated, I watch him absorb every movement of my muscles, every moan from my mouth. Alec's facial expressions are unfathomable. I am only too aware of the intimacy of our action and I also know that if I don't stop him now, there will be no turning back.