He's just about to tell Magnus he's ready when the warlock stops, and George feels a sudden wonder that Magnus knows him so well still. He grips Magnus' hip with one hand, the other curling into Magnus' hair.

His breath catches as Magnus pushes into him, eyes wide and dark. "Magnus," he gasps, voice rough, desperate. "Fuck...fuck, I love you."

He hadn't said it, before he'd disappeared. He'd wanted to, but everything was so fraught, so tender. Now it feels like if he doesn't say it as soon as he feels it, it will be too late.