Cuddle pile

Based on this prompt

Magnus leans back in the rattan chair and chooses ‘truth’.

“Are you a top or a bottom?” Jace asks.

Alec hits his parabatai over the head with one of the firm pillows from the sofa. They started to play stupid party games after realising that the born and raised shadowhunters never had heard of them. Alec is already regretting agreeing to it.

“Ouch!” Jace hisses, rubbing the painful spot. “It’s just a question.”

“He needs to answer,” Izzy points out, sounding as if she were a judge proclaiming a sentence, and takes a sip from her wine glass.

“I have no problem answering that,” Magnus says. Alec grabs his arm, eyes full of concern, but his boyfriend pats his hand. “It’s okay, Alexander. I’m not ashamed of who I am.” He leans closer to Jace and says, “It depends on the cuddle pile. I don’t want too many people on top of me. But if it’s six or less, I’m fine being at the bottom.”

Jace blinks at him while Clary falls giggling against her boyfriend’s shoulder.

“That’s not what I meant,” Jace grumbles.

“Wait,” Simon calls. “You’re fine with six people on top of you? I know you’re immortal, but as a warlock you still need to breathe, right?”

“Of course. But I actually like it sometimes—the pressure, the surrender, the feeling of being one with everyone around. Back in the 1960s, we did it all the time. We cuddled a lot. I think at some point I had The Stones and The Beatles all over me, if you know what I mean,” Magnus says and winks at Simon.

“You married the best and worst liar of all time, bro,” Jace chuckles.

“I’m not lying, Jonathan. I’m embellishing the truth,” Magnus says and snaps his fingers. Two photographs appear in his hand, one showing Paul McCartney kissing Magnus’ cheek, the other Janis Joplin sleeping wrapped over his chest.

“Damn!” Simon breathes.

“Did you sleep with them?” Clary blurts out.

“A gentleman never tells, biscuit,” Magnus replies and cuddles against his husband.

“Smooth,” Alec whispers into his ear.

“I always am, my love.”

“I still don’t believe it. No one can enjoy lying buried under a pile of people,” Jace says, mirth sparkling in his eyes.

“Is that a challenge, Mr Herondale?”

“It sure is, Mr Lightwood-Bane.”

Magnus snaps his fingers, and the coffee table is replaced with a pile of pillows.

Magnus swirls around elegantly and lands in it with a giggle.

“Challenge accepted,” he chuckles.

Alec rolls his eyes but joins him. Izzy, Clary, and Simon follow soon after, building a giggling and snickering pile of bodies.

“Come, Jonathan. I can take it.”

“Why can’t you say anything without sounding naughty?” Jace asks.

“It’s a natural talent,” Magnus quips.

“C'mere,” Alec orders. “We all know you want to.”

Jace rolls his eyes. “This is ridiculous.”

“You started it,” Magnus points out.

Jace shakes his head and carefully lowers himself onto Simon’s back.

“Told you I’m a bottom.”