Posted originally on the Archive_of_Our_Own at https://archiveofourown.org/
works/1012238.
  Rating:
      Explicit
  Archive Warning:
      Underage
  Category:
      F/M
  Fandom:
      Mortal_Instruments_Series_-_Cassandra_Clare
  Relationship:
      Clary_Fray/Jace_Lightwood
  Additional Tags:
      Lemons, Sexual_Fantasy
  Series:
      Part 4 of Lemon_Collections
  Stats:
      Published: 2013-10-21 Updated: 2013-11-04 Chapters: 4/? Words: 14975
****** Lemon Instruments ******
by ParadiseAvenger
Summary
     Anything you want or imagine... any fantasy you have... any desire
     that wakes you in the night, panting and sweaty... can be found in
     the Instruments of Lemons, but only for a price. A collection of one-
     shot citrus for JACE and CLARY. Canon, fluff, AU. Requests welcome.
***** Of Flowers and Love *****
Summary: Jace always replants the Institute’s garden each year. This year,
Clary volunteers to help him.
                                     X X X
When Clary looked back on this moment as an old woman (the angel willing that
she even lived that long), the perfume of the roses would evoke a memory
stronger than any photograph. Scents were the keys to memories, after all. So
many writers and poets had said so, weaving words like the honeysuckle that
needed to be trimmed back from the doorway. Clary would love to draw the
greenhouse as it was that day, but she didn’t have the time to capture the
moment perfectly. Instead, she breathed deeply and would remember in the
future.
She would remember not smelling the stink of New York City for once, but
instead recall the sweet perfume of the Shadowhunters’ native homeland. She
would remember the sweet fragrance of the roses hanging in the warm still air
of the greenhouse. She would remember the smell of the fresh earth and sunlight
through the glass, the coconut aroma of the lotion she had put on her
shoulders, and the faint whisper of laundry soap and leather. But most of all,
she would remember the scent of Jace’s skin and hair.
Jace was kneeling beside her, wearing jeans and a t-shirt fresh out of the
dryer. He had sunk up to his wrists in freshly-tilled soil as he planted
several stalks of silvery irises that would bloom next spring. There were
countless other small plants waiting in the cart behind him, patient and
watchful like tiny angels.
Clary was beside him, digging with a small trowel, enjoying that she could
finally take a break and just be with her boyfriend for a little while. She
picked out small stones and roots, adding them to a bucket nearby. She flicked
aside a few rolling pill-bugs so that she could dig a small hole for Jace to
plant another iris in the flowerbed. His large hands cupped the plant tenderly,
placing it into the hole Clary had created, and he packed dirt over it.
His shoulder brushed against hers, warm and strong, and she breathed in again.
He smelled wonderful even though he never wore cologne. There were rose petals
in his hair and on his shoulders, dirt beneath his fingernails, and the
sunlight was lying on him like a blanket. His hair was too long, curling over
his ears and against the back of his neck. He was beautiful and Clary breathed
him in.
“Clary?” Jace said, closing his hand over hers.
She looked at him and his eyes were like gold flowers, opening only to her.
“Yeah?”
“You’re trying to dig into the concrete.”
With a jolt, Clary realized that she had been so busy mooning at Jace that she
hadn’t noticed they had reached the end of the available earth in this
flowerbed. She had been rather insistently digging the trowel into the stone
path that wove throughout the garden, as if it would give way and reveal the
path to China on the other side of the world.
“Oh,” she gasped and felt the blood rush to her face with embarrassment.
Jace smiled cheekily and brushed his hair out of his eyes with the back of his
hand. “What were you looking at?”
“The flowers,” Clary lied.
He grinned at her and leaned in, stirring the stretching tendrils of the
reaching honeysuckle that needed to be trimmed back with the top of his head.
“Really now? Which ones?”
Clary averted her eyes. Jace was wonderful and she loved him dearly, but he
could be such an egomaniac. Sometimes, she wished she had the sharp wit that
Isabelle did to puncture a hole in that perfect ego and take him down a few
pegs. But Clary had no such ability. Even now, Jace leaned in and the scent of
his skin made her want nothing more than to lean in and kiss him.
“Which flowers, Clary?” he continued.
They were so close now that their foreheads were almost touching and Clary
didn’t bother to answer. Instead, she leaned in and accepted the kiss he was
offering. His strong arms coiled around her back, pulling her closer through
the curtain of flowers. There was no taste to his lips, but the scent of him
all around her made up for it tenfold. Clary breathed through her nose, soaking
in the scent of his body and the perfume of the flowers all around. He deepened
the kiss, his fingers tangling in her hair.
Rose petals showered down on them and Clary broke away when one landed on her
forehead and slid down between their faces. Jace chuckled and brushed the mess
of petals from the top of her head. Then, he gave himself a shake all over in
the same way a dog would and was rid of the petals that covered him. Clary only
wished she could be that graceful.
Jace brushed his earthy hands on his jeans and then pulled her to her feet.
“What’s next?” Clary asked him.
“Well, we planted all the new flowers,” Jace said. “Now, it’s time to trim back
the older ones that grew wild. Then, we’ll give everything a good dose of
fertilizer in the water and we’re done.”
Clary nodded and followed him across the greenhouse. They might as well start
with the overgrown honeysuckle vines that were blocking the door and had
started this entire adventure. Jace handed Clary a pair of trimmers and shower
her where to trim so that it would be most beneficial for the growth of the
plant. They trimmed in silence, mostly because the honeysuckle was
overwhelming, but the vines were finally tamed back. Jace sighed and wiped his
forehead with the back of his hand, leaving a long dirty smudge.
Clary giggled.
“What?” he asked.
“You’ve got dirt all over your face,” she said.
“So do you.” He stuck his tongue out at her and she flicked a stray flower at
him.
They worked their way through the garden, trimming back the rose bushes and a
few of the larger flowering hedges that ringed the perimeter of the greenhouse.
They were standing under a large white angel’s trumpet that had grown into a
veritable tree when Jace kissed her again. His kiss was deep and powerful. His
hands pressed into the small of her back, pulling her flush against his body.
Clary dropped the trimmers in her haste to cling to him, opening her mouth.
When they broke apart, Jace plucked down a single white trumpet and tucked it
behind her ear. “You’re beautiful,” he whispered, “more beautiful than any
flower.”
Clary flushed, holding his shoulders lightly.
He drew her close, tucking his nose into her hair. “You smell like coconuts.”
She buried her face against his chest, breathing in deeply. Then, she mumbled
something into his shirt.
“What?” he asked.
Clary put a little space between her mouth and the fabric of his t-shirt. For a
moment, embarrassment froze her tongue, but Jace’s hands were so warm and soft
on her back that it melted away her anxiety. She forced herself to plow on
ahead. “Let’s do it here,” she murmured, “in the garden.”
Jace’s hands stilled and the garden was quiet in the wake of her statement.
“Only if you want,” Clary stumbled out, her voice sputtering like an engine
that wouldn’t quite start. “Jace—”
But he folded his mouth over hers and swallowed any further self-conscious
protests. His hands slid down her back, cupping her behind through her jeans
and giving a firm squeeze that made her yelp in surprise. He kissed her deeply
until there was no way she couldn’t be certain that he didn’t want her more
than anything else in the world. When he finally broke the kiss, Clary gasped
for breath like a drowned rat, inhaling petals and the wonderful scent of her
boyfriend.
“Jace,” she began.
“I thought you’d never ask,” he said with a cheeky grin.
She stared at him, open-mouthed. “You could have said something!”
“I didn’t want to push you into anything,” he said. “Besides, it was my idea to
do it in the shower after training.”
Clary’s cheeks flamed at the memories of his soft slippery skin, the feeling of
the water pouring over her most intimate areas, and the way his breath sounded
against the hollow walls as she stroked him. She waved her hand around,
stirring loose petals from the flowering tree overhead and dispersing those
naughty thoughts. “Jace,” she said sternly, but then he was kissing her and she
forgot what exactly she was going to yell at him for—maybe it was not taking
his clothes off fast enough.
Clary hooked her fingers under the hem of his t-shirt and peeled it over his
head in a wave of scattered petals. He broke away from her just long enough to
allow this and then wrapped her in his arms, cradling her against his naked
chest. She pressed her fingers to his skin, tracing the path of his inky runes
and paler scars. Then, just to be a tease because she knew it pried a shiver
from his bones, she scraped her fingernails gently over his nipples.
Jace shuddered, but gripped her behind tightly and jerked her flush against his
hips as punishment. She giggled, lifting her chin to kiss him, and his hands
slid beneath the back of her shirt. He unfastened her bra without removing her
t-shirt and cupped her small breasts in his hands with more gentleness than he
had shown any plant that day. His rough thumbs carded just around her raised
nipples, teasing her, and she trembled in his arms.
She gripped his hips, fumbling for his belt and loosing the button of his
jeans. He was already hard and straining against the fabric of his boxers and
she trailed the tip of her finger just along his hipbones, equally capable of
teasing him even if she couldn’t puncture his ego. He brushed her hands away,
peeled her shirt and bra off, and pulled her tight against his bare chest.
Their naked skin felt like a thousand points of pleasure, nerve endings searing
like fireworks, and Clary took a moment to wonder if this feeling would ever
fade.
Jace kissed her as if he wanted to devour her entirely. They fumbled at the
waistband of each other’s jeans. Clary jerked his pants down over his hips and
he stepped out of them before tugging hers down to her ankles. Clary stumbled
and nearly fell, her fingers clutching at Jace’s shoulders. It was only his
Shadowhunter reflexes that allowed him to catch her with one hand at the small
of her back. He kissed her again as he lowered her into a bed of flowers.
A fluttering sheet of rose petals rained down on Clary’s exposed chest, somehow
making it through Jace to land on her. He kissed a path down the side of her
neck, pausing only to nibble at her collarbone. He kissed away the petals that
had gathered on her breasts and then closed his mouth over her nipple. She
arched her back, a small whimper of pleasure escaping her mouth. She tangled
her fingers in his hair, guiding him back up to her face so she could kiss him
again.
She wrapped her legs around his hips, digging her heels into his behind so that
his aching hardness was flush against her core. She rocked against him, moaning
into his mouth, and felt him smile against her. He fumbled his way out of his
boxers and tugged her panties down her legs, discarding both somewhere behind
him. Then, he pressed against her body and the feeling of him was like a bolt
of lightning, all at once unbelievably hard and so soft at the same time. It
was just like the first time, all over again, so much happiness that it settled
in her lower belly like a kitten.
“Jace,” she whispered.
He pressed his fingers into her to be certain she was ready. “I love you,” he
murmured.
She didn’t have to say it. The beautiful moan that escaped her lips as he
filled her to the brim was enough of an answer.
Jace waited once he was inside her, feeling her muscles ripple around him. She
squirmed against him, trying to adjust to the sensation of being filled so
completely. They had been together before, but each time was still just as
gentle as the first. He never wanted to hurt her, never, and she wouldn’t let
him. After a few breaths, Clary tightened her thighs around his hips and tugged
his face down to meet hers for a kiss. Her tongue danced with his, tangling in
a motion that set the pace below.
Jace angled inside her, trying to rub along the place he seemed only able to
reach with his fingers. Clary moaned, clutching his shoulders like a lifeline,
and arched so that her breasts her pressed to his chest. More rose petals
rained down on them, mingling with the smell of Jace’s skin and Clary’s coconut
lotion. She kissed him deeper, panting, and he broke away to nip at the
pounding pulse of her neck. She whimpered as the length of him rubbed something
secret inside her.
“There,” she gasped out. “Right there.”
Jace was more than eager to oblige, hoping to bring her to climax with him for
the first time. He reached between their bodies and teased her clit with his
rough fingertips. Clary threw her head back, moaning in a way she never had
before, and he leaned down to nip at the exposed column of her throat. She
shuddered beneath him and he dipped his chest, brushing against her raised
nipples lightly with his warm skin and stirring the rose petals that had
settled on her skin.
Suddenly, Clary’s fingers were at his wrist, guiding his hand into a slightly
different position. Her fingers intertwined with his and she showed him how to
touch her. “Like this,” she panted.
Jace redoubled his efforts, sliding against that place inside of her and
stroking her sensitive pearl exactly how she wished. Her breath was coming in
short little gasps and she could suddenly do little more than cling to him
helplessly like he was her only anchor in a hurricane. Jace’s own orgasm was
building in the pit of his stomach, but he struggled it back, trying to
maintain exactly what he was doing because Clary finally looked undone at the
very seams.
“Jace,” she panted and her eyes squeezed shut in a strange expression. “Jace!”
Then, he felt her muscles clench down on him like a vice and her insides were
suddenly more wet than they had been before. She tried to say his name, but it
mutated, garbling somewhere inside her chest as her orgasm rocked her world.
Her fingers twitched, curling convulsively around his biceps weakly. Then, she
slumped beneath him, breathing hard, and the final little whimper of his name
that escaped her was the ultimate erotic sight. He spilled inside her and then
collapsed beside her in the flowerbed.
Clary turned slightly to face him, burrowing her nose into his neck. “That
was,” she breathed out, “perfect.”
Jace smiled, but didn’t say anything to toot his own horn. It was nice enough
to know that he had been able to bring her to orgasm. (Something Isabelle
complained about her dates not being able to do with some frequency, much to
Alec’s horror.) He pressed a kiss to her nose and held her close as he softened
inside her.
Night was falling beyond the glass roof and walls of the greenhouse. The roses
began to close up, their shed petals lying over Jace and Clary like a blanket.
The night-blooming flowers began to blossom in a slow opening of petals that
was almost like a heart. Bats took to the sky outside, swooping out as swallows
came in for the night.
“We should probably get dressed,” Jace murmured into the bare skin of Clary’s
coconut-scented shoulder.
“I know,” she said and pressed her lips to the scar of a rune on his forearm
one final time.
Slowly, they sat up, kissing softly, touching even more gently. Jace helped her
dress, sliding her shirt down over her head with a tenderness that should have
been impossible for a Shadowhunter such as him. The hands that could rip apart
a demon in moments and handle every weapon were like satin on her skin. She
pulled on her panties and jeans herself while he dressed. Then, she took his
hand and the two of them headed down to the Institute’s kitchen in time for
dinner.
Isabelle was coming out of the library with several books tucked under her arm
when they ran into her. For a moment, she just stared at them. Then, a Cheshire
cat grin spread across her beautiful face. “Wow, Jace, nice sex hair,” she
said.
Jace lifted a hand to his head and patted the strand back in order, not ruffled
by Isabelle’s comment in the least.
Clary, on the other hand, was already beginning to flush and Isabelle hadn’t
even turned to her yet. Surprisingly, Isabelle didn’t say anything to Clary for
a long moment. Instead, she reached out and brushed at some dirt clinging to
the back of Clary’s jeans.
“You know,” Isabelle remarked almost absently, “Clary, you’ve got a little dirt
on your ass.”
Clary craned her head to look behind herself and saw with some shock that there
were perfectly filthy handprints of dirt on the ass of her jeans. Now that she
thought about it, she distinctly remembered Jace grabbing a hold of her with
his dirty hands and pulling her against him and—
“Jace!”
                                     X X X
Each of these chapters is an independent story and each with be different. I
write for my Lemon Series whenever the mood strikes me or if I’m bored. If you
want to request something, you can, but don’t be insulted if I don’t take it.
Capisce?
Questions, comments, concerns?
Review if you liked this!
***** Their Last Night *****
Summary: Jace and Clary’s last night together in Idris (with revamped mostly-
my-own conversation and scenes from Cassandra Clare’s book).
                                     X X X
Clary had always loved the stories of Peter Pan. When she was a child, she used
to leave her window unlocked, just in case a wonderful boy with fairies for
friends and leaves in his hair came to take her to a faraway land where she
could fly and see mermaids. Now, she had seen fairies and mermaids alike and it
wasn’t all it was cracked up to be. Now, her window was open only to allow in a
cool breeze perfumed with night-blooming flowers.
Even so, luck would have it that a beautiful boy did come in through her open
window in a sudden wash of moonlight, but he didn’t have leaves in his hair or
a sparkling fairy at his shoulder. He wasn’t chasing his shadow and he didn’t
even look like one. He hadn’t come to listen to stories or to take her away to
some distant place even though Clary half-wished he would. He merely slipped in
through the open window and stood beside the bed.
This was no fantasy and certainly no dream. He was wearing white funeral
clothes stitched with crimson runes just like the Lightwoods were. Grief lined
his face like a scar. His golden hair gleamed in the faint moonlight, mussed
and windblown. His eyes were dark with some haunted emotion and his lips were
chapped. She could see the shine of silvery scars on his skin like fish moving
through a dark pond and there was something sad about his scars.
“It’s alright,” he said as she sat up in bed. “It’s me.”
“Jace,” she murmured. “What are you doing here?”
“I don’t know,” he said softly. His voice was distant as if he was trapped
within a strange dream. “I couldn’t sleep so I left the house. I was just going
to walk around for a while, but I kept finding myself walking here—to you—so I
decided to climb up.”
Clary studied him in the moonlight. “Are you alright?”
He didn’t answer her question, but continued as if she hadn’t spoken. “I had to
see you. I know I shouldn’t, but I had to.”
She made space for him on the bed. “Sit down,” she said gently. “Jace?”
He sat down almost timidly, his weight hardly sinking the mattress. Clary moved
closer to him, so close that she could feel the heat coming off his skin. She
could have leaned forward and kissed him, but Jace didn’t move away from her as
he had been lately. His face was pale and his scared fingers tapped out an
unheard melody on the blankets.
“Jace?” she asked again.
“I have to tell you something,” he said softly.
Clary nodded and watched his fingers curl in the bed’s coverlet.
“You probably already know—the angel knows that I haven’t hid it that well,” he
murmured, “but I have to say it anyway.”
Clary didn’t speak even as his eyes washed over her face like a caress. He
gazed at her as if memorizing her features, as if he would never see her again.
His golden eyes shone in the moonlight, soaking it up like a sponge. He wet his
lips, but his voice cracked on whatever he wanted to say. He suddenly shook
himself and looked away from her.
As people often did when they were nervous, he began to ramble. “I couldn’t
sleep. I just kept thinking about you—about the first time I ever saw you in
Pandemonium. I couldn’t forget you after that. I wanted to because you were
just a mundane, but I couldn’t stop myself. And when I saw you with Simon, it
felt so wrong to me. It should have been me with you—making you laugh like
that, touching you, looking at you. I just couldn’t get rid of that feeling
that it should have been me.
“The more I got to know you, the more I felt that way. It’s never been like
that for me before, ask Isabelle. I’ve always wanted a girl and then gotten to
know her and not wanted her anymore. But with you,” he made a hard sound in his
chest, “the feeling just got stronger and stronger until that night at
Renwick’s and Valentine told us the truth about what we were—” He broke off,
whispering, “And then I knew.”
“The reason I felt like you were some part of me that I’d lost was because
you’re my sister.” His shoulders heaved and he shook his head self-
deprecatingly. “It’s like some sort of cosmic joke, like God was spitting on
me. How could I think I would actually get to have you? How could I deserve
something like that? To be that happy? I can’t imagine what it is that I’m
being punished for…”
“If you’re being punished,” Clary broke in because Jace seemed in danger of
going on forever, “then so am I.” She tucked a lock of hair behind her ear.
“All those things you feel, I’ve felt them too, but we can’t… Jace, we have to
stop feeling this way. It’s our only chance.”
“Our only chance for what?” he asked and his eyes shone in the darkness.
“To be together at all,” Clary said softly. “I’d rather have you as my brother
than nothing at all.”
Jace’s voice broke again, dangerously close to the cusp of something. “And I’m
supposed to sit by while you date boys, fall in love with someone else, and get
married? Meanwhile, I’ll die a little more every day, just watching.”
“No,” Clary said as she tried to force some conviction into her voice. “You
won’t care by then, Jace. Please… if we don’t say anything, if we just
pretend—”
“There is no pretending,” Jace said with absolute clarity. “I love you and I
will love you until I die. If there’s a life after that, I’ll love you then.”
Her breath caught in her chest like a butterfly under glass, shuddering there.
Those were the words he had come here to say, the words that there was no going
back from. She struggled to speak, but there seemed to be nothing to say.
Jace continued, unable to stop. “I know you think I just want to be with you to
show myself what a monster I am and maybe I am a monster. But I’m certain of
something now… even if there is demon blood inside me, then there’s human blood
as well. I couldn’t love you like I do if I wasn’t at least a little bit human.
Demons want, but they don’t love. And I—”
He broke off with a sort of violent suddenness as if he had said too much.
“I’m sorry,” he said softly.
“For what?” she whispered, laying her hand over his where it rested on the
coverlet of the bed.
“I shouldn’t have told you that,” he said without looking at her.
Clary let out a shuddering breath. Jace’s confession wasn’t something she could
close her eyes to. There was no going back to the way they had been
before—pretending there was nothing between them—but there seemed to be no
going forward either. They were brother and sister, Valentine’s children.
“I couldn’t sleep,” Jace said again in the silence between them. Then, he
continued, “By tomorrow night, we’ll either be at war or under Valentine’s
control. This could be the last night of our lives and certainly the last even
barely-ordinary one. This is the last night we’ll go to sleep and get up just
as we always have. And all I could think of was that,” he hesitated, wetting
his lips, “I wanted to spend it with you.”
Clary found her voice, but it sounded just as lost as she felt. “Jace,” she
whispered.
Hastily, he added, “I don’t mean it like that. I won’t touch you, not if you
don’t want me to.” He raked his hand through his hair. “I know it’s wrong. God,
it’s all kinds of wrong, but I just want to lie down with you and wake up with
you, just once, just once ever in my life.” His voice pitched with desperation,
but he still didn’t look at her. “It’s just one night. In the grand scheme of
things, how much can one night matter? Especially if the world as we know it
ends tomorrow…”
“Jace,” she began and the words to tell him what she thought were on the tip of
her tongue. She wanted to tell him how much worse it would be to pretend they
meant nothing to each other if they spent the night together, even if they only
slept. She wanted to tell him that it would be like a taste of a drug, only
making her want more.
But then Jace turned to face her on the bed and her breath caught in her
throat. She realized then that there was no making it worse, not for him. There
was nothing that could make it worse, just as there was nothing that could make
it better. What he felt for her was as final as a death sentence and was it
really so different for her?
His eyes were like twin mirrors in the moonlight, gazing at her with something
between hope and desperation.
“Take off your shoes, then,” Clary breathed out despite what she knew she
should be saying, “before you come to bed.”
Pure incredulity washed over his pale face. Clary realized that he had never
expected her to say ‘yes.’ He had expected to be turned away, to be rejected,
and a knot formed in her chest because she couldn’t imagine being rejected by
him. He reached out, wrapping his arms around her and hugging her to his chest.
He buried his face in her hair, breathing in deeply the scent of her skin.
“Clary,” he murmured.
“Come to bed,” she told him softly. “It’s late.”
Jace rose from the bed and she watched him as he unzipped his white mourning
jacket and draped it over her desk chair. He unfastened his weapons belt and
laid it quietly with his jacket. Then, he unlaced his boots and stepped out of
them. He was wearing a pale grey t-shirt that the dark marks of his runes
showed through. Watching him like this, Clary could almost imagine that nothing
was wrong with their being together. Her love for him was like the fluttering
of wings, so warm and so soft.
She lifted the covers to allow him beneath them and he stretched out very
carefully beside her. He lay on his back, hands flat at his sides, and he
seemed to be barely breathing. She wasn’t sure she was breathing either as she
ventured out a hand to touch him. She curled her fingers over the hard bone of
his hip and tugged lightly until he rolled to face her. His arm rested
naturally over her waist and she gasped softly. He tensed beside her, his
fingers curling against her skin and his eyes glowing in the dark.
“Clary,” he whispered so softly. “I won’t touch you, not if you don’t want me
to.”
“What if I want you to?” she murmured.
Jace’s breath caught. For a moment, he looked like a frightened deer that was
in the sights of a hungry hunter’s gun, so pale and uncharacteristic of him
that Clary almost took back her words. But then, he was kissing her and she
knew he wanted this just as much as she did. She had never wanted anything more
than she wanted Jace in this moment.
His hands pressed to her back, squeezing her close to his chest, and Clary
could feel the beating of his heart through the flimsy material of her camisole
top. She sighed into his lips, closing her eyes and just feeling the softness
of his kiss. He was so tender, relishing every second he was kissing her like
she was a flower that would only bloom once.
She ran her hands down his chest, cuddling closer against him, and she felt the
evidence of just how much he wanted this pressing against her. A little shiver
ran through her body and Jace shifted his hips away from her, ashamed that
kissing his sister would evoke such a reaction from his body. But Clary felt
the same and she wouldn’t let him feel like he was the monster here. They both
were.
She draped her leg over his, drawing him back so that he could feel the heat
and moisture of her core through her light pajama shorts. Jace gasped against
her lips, but hugged her as close as he could. He never wanted to let her go.
He never wanted this moment to end and he would have given the part of his soul
that was only his to the Devil to hold her forever.
Clary’s fingers wandered his body and he let her. She traced the lines of his
shoulders, the strength of his back, and the curve of his buttocks. When she
slipped her hands beneath his shirt, he shivered but only deepened their kiss.
She ran her fingertips over the scars on his stomach, over the defined lines of
his abs, and finally rested her hand over the pounding of his heart.
He drew back slightly, pressing several light kisses to her lips that left her
hungry for more. She leaned towards him, catching his lips again and pleading
entrance. Her small hands wandered down his chest again and cupped him through
his pants, but he gently closed his hands over her wrists.
“What’s wrong?” she whispered.
He shook his head slightly. “We have time,” he murmured.
“We don’t,” she protested, but Jace silenced her with a kiss.
“We have time,” he said again even though he knew it wasn’t true. He wanted to
take his time, to cherish her the way she deserved to be, to love every inch of
her. He wanted to brand this moment into his memories and into his body. He
didn’t want to rush, not now, not this. “Clary…”
And in the way he said her name, she understood. Tears welled in the corners of
her eyes, but he kissed them away. His lips trailed against her cheek and then
over her nose, memorizing every inch of her features with the gentle press of
his lips. She lay against him silently, fighting back her tears for a long
moment.
Finally, she managed to and lifted her chin to kiss him. Jace slid his hands
beneath her camisole, running his fingers over her warm flesh. She was without
scars or runes, as untouched as freshly-fallen snow, and he slowly lifted the
camisole up her midriff. The muscles of her stomach rippled beneath his light
touch and she giggled softly.
“That tickles,” she whispered.
Jace smiled and ran his fingers over the curve of her ribs. She lifted her arms
in a silent gesture that she wanted him to remove her shirt. They didn’t need
any barriers between then, not right now. She did the same for him, peeling off
his t-shirt, even though she pressed it to her nose and inhaled the scent of
him with a small smile.
Jace pulled her against his chest, their naked skin touching like a thousand
points of tiny fireworks. He could feel the softness of her breasts, the beat
of her heart, the intake of her breath, and the life beneath her skin. It was
like nothing he had ever felt before. It felt like she was a part of him, a
vital piece that he could never have, so he kissed her.
Clary could taste the desperation in Jace’s kiss, as salty as tears, as painful
as a broken heart, and she melted into him. Even if she would never be with him
again, they had this… they had this one moment and it would be theirs forever.
He would always be her first and he would always love her.
She tugged down his pants and he relieved her of her cotton shorts. Their legs
intertwined, each feeling just how much the other wanted them through their
underwear. Jace’s member lay against Clary’s thigh, warm through the fabric of
his boxers, and his knee brushed the very core of her body. She trembled
against him, the sensations so new and wonderful.
A breathless little moan escaped her lips and she immediately flushed with
embarrassment, pressing her fingers to her lips.
“Don’t,” Jace whispered. “Let me hear you.”
Deliberately, he brushed his knee against her again and his hands slid down her
back to cup her through her panties. She gasped again, her eyes squeezing shut
and her fingers knotting against the bare skin of his chest. She moaned and the
tiny sound was the most perfect thing Jace had ever heard. He kissed her cheeks
and her nose and her forehead before finally settling to her lips.
Then, he tugged down her panties, discarding them softly somewhere. Clary’s
hands shook as she peeled off Jace’s boxers, but he didn’t let her touch him
yet. Instead, he gathered her close to his body so that every inch of their
naked skin was touching. He sighed in bliss and she lifted her chin to kiss him
tenderly.
They lay like that for a while, touching each other lightly and gently,
exploring every bone and muscle and sinew. Clary pressed her lips to the scars
on Jace’s chest and he swept his mouth over each sensitive place on her body.
Then, he slipped his tongue into her mouth and the lazy caresses turned into
heated desperate passion.
Clary worked up the courage to touch him for the first time, curling her
fingers over the velvet head of him. She drew in a breath and let it out
slowly, running her hand down the length of him that suddenly seemed too
impossibly large to ever fit inside of her body.
Jace kissed her, shifting slightly so that he could pull her leg over his
waist, and lay his fingers against her moist core. She trembled, her breath
hissing through her lips, as he pushed one finger past all that remained of her
hymen. (1) There was no pain at all and Clary let out a breath she didn’t know
she had been holding.
“Did I hurt you?” he whispered and his eyes gleamed with concern.
She shook her head, feathering strand of ruby-red tresses against his cheeks.
“No,” she assured him.
Jace began to move his finger inside of her, curling it against something soft
and secret that made her want to gasp out his name. She clung to him, doing
exactly that, and she felt him smile against her skin where he was feathering
soft kisses. She tried to stroke him in time with the motions he was making
inside her, but the feeling was too distracting. She was only able to lay
against him, shuddering in his arms as he touched her.
“I’ve just put two fingers inside you,” he whispered softly. “Can you feel it?”
She could and she moaned softly to let him know that she liked it. “Please,”
she said, suddenly able to find her voice. “Please, Jace, I’m ready. I want
you.”
He wouldn’t deny her any longer, even if he didn’t want her just as badly as
she wanted him. He pulled himself onto his elbows, leaning over her with his
hips pressing between her thighs. She felt the soft head of him brush against
her core and gasped softly, clinging to his shoulders.
He began to push into her with painstaking slowness and Clary gasped as her
muscles stretched to accommodate him. It didn’t hurt, not like she had expected
and heard about. Instead, it was rather pleasant, but she supposed that was
partly because of who she was with. Jace wasn’t just some horny teenager eager
to get his rocks off. He was her brother, even if siblings should never be this
close, and he loved her with every shred of his heart.
If felt as if every empty space inside of her had been filled and she let her
breath out in a rush of relief. Jace was waiting, looking down at her with both
concern and breathtaking adoration. He was memorizing the fan of her ruby hair
on the white pillows, the flush on her cheeks, the part of her lips, the
expression in her green eyes. By all the angels in heaven, she was so
beautiful.
She smiled up at him and stretched out her arms, pulling him down against her
breasts and kissing him tenderly.
Jace began to move slowly, sliding in and out of her with overwhelming
gentleness, and Clary just enjoyed the feeling of him inside her for the
longest time. His pace increased by increments along with her pleasure. When he
began to thrust into her with all the shattering desperation he felt inside,
Clary thought she would burst into thousands of pieces and live inside his
skin, but she didn’t tell him to stop. She wanted this, wanted him, and she
wanted all of him.
Her breath rushed from her lungs with each thrust, but she clung to him. Her
nails raked a path up his back and he dipped down to kiss her deeply. She
gasped into his mouth, snaking her tongue out to meet with his in a dance that
was too passionate to be beautiful anymore. He came with the cry of her name on
his lips and collapsed against her, breathing hard against her sensitive skin,
and she held him to her tightly as he softened inside of her.
“Jace,” she began.
“Clary, if you weren’t pleased, I’m sorry.”
“Jace,” she said again, pouring every emotion into his name.
Then, she hugged him tighter, feeling his arms go around her waist as he slid
to the side and cradled her back against his chest. She breathed in the feel of
him, the scent of his hair, the heat of his skin, the muscles of his body, the
coolness of his scars, and the thrill of his kiss. She would never forget this.
She would hold this one stolen night in her heart forever, something to be
treasured yet kept secret until the end of her life.
She wasn’t sure exactly when she started to cry, but Jace continued to hold her
and drop small butterfly kisses on her bare shoulder and neck. He never spoke,
not even when she turned to face him and kissed him tearfully. He just held her
and kissed her and stared down at her with golden eyes that were so full of
happiness and yet still so much despair.
After what felt like an eternity, Clary stopped crying and just lay against
Jace, absorbing the feel of his bare skin and heartbeat against her own. She
stared up into his face, memorizing the fine bones and features. She wondered
for just a moment what he might look like in the morning before shaking away
the thought. She kissed him one final time, tasting all his love for her,
before closing her eyes and cuddling against him. He squeezed her close,
tucking his chin over her head, and she fit into him like a missing piece.
And, though she held on to him more tightly than she had ever held anything in
her life, he was still gone from her bed when she woke the next morning. But,
somewhere in the depths of her heart, she had known that he would be.
                                     X X X
(1) I always feel the need to tell people this because there’s a pretty large
misconception that started somewhere. The hymen is at the opening of the
vagina, not inside, so using tampons and just about everything else you do
pretty much gets rid of it. Okay all?
I couldn’t believe that there wasn’t a story like this floating around on the
internet (or if there is, I couldn’t find it) so I just had to write one. I
mean, Clary so obviously wanted Jace to touch her, so why wouldn’t she act on
that notion? Stayed tuned for the next one-shot.
Questions, comments, concerns? Thoughts?
Show some LOVE! Drop me a REVIEW!
***** The Vampire's Kiss *****
HAPPY HALLOWEEN!
Summary: “Don’t you get any trick-or-treaters at the Institute?”
                                     X X X
Jace wasn’t sure he’d ever quite get used to dating a mundane human rather than
a Shadowhunter. Sure, he had dated werewolves and they had a weird tendency to
want to lick him, but they were fun. He had been with female warlocks that
smoked in bed—literally and figuratively—when they finished for the night, but
he could look past that. He had even been with a few of the fey folk and spent
the rest of the week getting glitter out of his sheets. (He had never been with
a vampire. It was too tempting for them to be with others not of their kind.)
But Jace had never been with a mundane human.
Even so, for Clary he was willing to try anything and he did mean anything. He
would go to the ends of the earth to make her happy. He would walk through hell
without looking back. To coin the song that Clary had insisted on playing for
him just the week before, ‘He would do anything for love, anything she’d been
dreaming of…’ (1) If she had asked it of him, he would leave the Institute
behind and live with her in a thatched cottage in the woods with roses around
the door. But that didn’t necessarily mean that he was used to being with her
yet.
He was sitting on his neatly-made bed, cleaning his weapons in order of size
from his largest broadsword to his tiniest dagger, when there was a knock on
the door. Expecting Clary, Jace called for her to come in as he put all his
weapons back into the trunk at the foot of his bed. As a result, he had his
back to her when she came into his room.
He heard the clack of high heels on his floor and grinned to himself. What kind
of surprise did she have for him tonight? It must have been something kinky if
it involved high heels. Clary so rarely dressed up after all.
“What’s the occasion?” he asked her.
She stepped up behind him, snaking her arms around his middle. Her palms
pressed warmly to his chest and she buried her face in his back. He turned in
her embrace to face her, pressing a kiss to the top of her head. Then, he
pulled away slightly so he could look at her and froze. Clary had just about
the same expression on her face that he must have been wearing.
“What in the angel’s name are you wearing?” Jace asked at the same moment Clary
asked, “Why aren’t you dressed?”
Jace stared at her, dumbfounded. “What do you mean ‘Why aren’t I dressed?’ What
the hell are you dressed as?”
Clary stepped back from Jace’s arms, her brow wrinkling.
He scrutinized her with worry in his heart. She was wearing what Jace could
only describe as a vampire getup, even if it was incredibly old-fashioned and
pretty unlikely now. (He knew some vampires, like Camille Belcourt, were really
into the antiquated black dresses with the high collars like the one Clary was
wearing now. And, beneath his initial distaste for the vampire-esque costume,
Jace had to admit that she looked damn good.) The dress came to just above her
knees and was layered with red and black lace with a high collar and long loose
sleeves. Her small breasts swelled against the lacy low-cut neck and her legs
were long and lovely with the added accent of the heeled ankle boots she was
wearing. There was a ruby choker clasped around her throat and her flame-red
hair had been pulled up to expose her neck.
“You don’t like it?” Clary asked him. “Simon told me it looked great.”
Jace’s heart skipped a beat. “Simon picked this out?”
She plucked at the skirt, lifting it nervously away from her thighs. “Well,
yeah. I figured he’d have the best input on what vampires wear.”
Jace was watching her lips as she spoke and realized with dawning horror that
he could see fangs peeking between her lips. He breathed out helplessly, “Are
those fangs?”
Clary ran her tongue over then and smiled wider so he could see. “Yeah. Do you
like them? I spent half an hour putting them in.”
A distant part of Jace’s rational mind was starting to speak up that most of
what Clary was saying didn’t make sense. Why would Simon want Clary to be
cursed with the same blood-hunger that he was wracked with each day? Why would
Clary come to Jace as a newly-turned vampire? Why would she be so proud of all
this, as if he would like it? But most of all…
“Put them in?” Jace asked.
Clary nodded, pressing a finger to her lower lip.
“What do you mean?” he breathed out hopefully. This had to be some sort of
joke, right?
A sort of realization dawned on Clary when she saw the expression on his face.
“Oh, Jace,” she said and then her lips pulled into a smile that she appeared to
be trying hard to stifle. “It’s Halloween!”
“Halloween?” Jace repeated.
She nodded eagerly, grinning like a jackal. “Yeah! I thought we’d hang out,
maybe go to a party, hand out some candy…”
“Candy?”
“Don’t you get any trick-or-treaters at the Institute?” Clary asked.
“Trick-or-treaters?”
“Is there an echo in here?”
Clary put her hands on Jace’s shoulders and backed him up towards his bed. He
sank down on the edge of it, looking up at her with relief obvious in his eyes.
She leaned in and kissed his lips lightly, feeling a little bad when she felt
the desperation in his kiss. He had thought that he lost her again. She climbed
into his lap, lifting her skirt so she could straddle his waist. He gripped her
hips, pulling her close and deepening the kiss. Then, she felt a small snag on
one of her stick-on fangs and Jace pulled away sharply.
“Ouch,” he muttered and Clary saw a small cut on his lip.
“Sorry,” she said, kissing his cheek gently. “I didn’t get much practice
kissing anyone with these on.”
“We can practice a little more,” Jace said with a smirk, pulling her closer so
she could feel just how much he wanted her.
Clary smiled flirtatiously at him, showing her new fangs. “Maybe a little
later, after you put on a costume for me.”
“A costume?” Jace asked, leaning in to try to kiss her, but she denied him.
“Clary,” he whined.
And she knew she had him. Clary’s grin widened as she slipped her bag off her
shoulder and set it in his lap. “Put this on and we’ll head over to Magnus’s
for his Halloween party. Then, later, I’ll do something to make up for scaring
you like this.”
…
Magnus Bane loved Halloween. He loved the costumes, he loved the candy, he
loved the carved pumpkins, and he loved the crisp October air. He even loved
that it was the one night of year that most of the Downworlders and fey folk
and other strange-looking creatures like himself could walk around in the open
without needing much of an excuse. (In fact, he had already gotten several
compliments on his eyes from silly mundanes asking where he had bought his
contact lenses.) He loved everything about Halloween, but most of all, he loved
the great parties that he could throw.
There was a knock on his door that he wouldn’t have hear over the pulsing sound
of the music if he hadn’t been listening for the little knocks of trick-or-
treaters. He pulled open the door to a sight that practically required he laugh
out loud.
“Hello, Clary. Glad you could make it,” he said, taking her hand and pressing a
light kiss to the back of it. Then, he turned to Jace and stifled a laugh as
best he could. “And is this your date, Clary? Count Dracula? Funny, last I saw
you, you weren’t blond, but I guess we all have to change with the times.”
Then, he snorted, covering his mouth with his hand to hide his grin.
“Bite me, Magnus,” Jace ground out, but the heat of his glare was diminished by
the fact that Clary was holding his hand and he could never look unhappy when
Clary was with him.
While Clary’s red hair and pale skin were perfect for a vampire costume, Jace
just looked ridiculous. He was wearing an overblown Dracula-style cape with the
red underside and high collar along with a white puffy-sleeved blouse, a red
vest, and black trousers. His golden hair and eyes clashed horrendously with
all the black and red of his costume and some his dark runes showed through the
shirts thin white fabric like bruises. He was wearing fake fangs and there was
already a cut at the corner of his mouth. Add that to the fact that Jace was a
Shadowhunter and it was doubly hilarious.
“All kidding aside, welcome,” Magnus said and swept himself aside to allow them
entry into his home. “Will you keep an ear out for trick-or-treaters, Clary?”
She nodded, accepting a cup of warm cider from a fairy with antlers on her head
who smiled broadly. “Sure,” she said. “Where’s the candy?”
Magnus pointed out an over-sized cauldron that was filled to overflowing with
every manner of candy bar and lollipop on the face of the planet. “That’s the
human cauldron. Stay away from the other one. We don’t want a repeat of what
happened last time.”
“Um, Magnus, you haven’t cooked anyone in this cauldron, have you?” Clary asked
before Jace could snap at the warlock.
Magnus grinned at her. “Not recently.”
Clary made a face. “Get out of here.”
Magnus gave her shoulder a small squeeze and leaned in close to whisper in her
ear, “I can’t believe you actually got him into a costume. What did you have to
do for that favor, Clary darling?” Then, he sidled off into the crowd of his
party.
“What did he say to you?” Jace asked grumpily.
Clary only smiled at Jace and answered the door when there was a light knock
and a small cry of “Trick or treat!” Jace made a scary face at the assembly of
children outside the door, but none of them ran away. They accepted candy from
Clary with much giggling and smiling, peering around her in awe of the wild
party Magnus was throwing. A satyr walked by, his hooves clicking on the floor,
and the children gasped in wonder before scurrying off to the next house.
“You’re kidding me,” Jace said incredulously.
Clary grinned, unwrapping a Snickers and biting into it before offering Jace a
bite. “Nope. Halloween is the best holiday by far.”
Jace eyed the exposed swell of her breasts, the column of her pale throat, and
the lean bare curves of her legs. If Halloween got his girlfriend to dress like
this, he couldn’t exactly disagree. But then his cape snagged on something and
jerked him back like a puppy on a too-short lease and he wasn’t sure just how
much he liked the holiday.
…
It was a little after three in the morning when Clary and Jace left Magnus’s
party. Clary had taken off her high heels by now, but was still greatly
enjoying her costume. Jace, on the other hand, wasn’t nearly so attached to his
costume. Sadly, though, his costume was very attached to everything else. His
cape had only gotten caught on absolutely everything, yanking him back time
after time. He wanted to take it off, but Clary kept reminding him of the treat
he would get if he kept it on all night.
“Be safe,” Magnus called from the threshold of his home.
Clary waved to him, took Jace’s hand, and walked down the block in the dark. A
few decorations were still lit and there were the distant shouts of teenagers
that should probably be going home soon, but the city was as quiet and peaceful
as New York would ever get. The Institute was dark and quiet when they returned
and rode the elevator in silence to Jace’s room. It was just how they had left
it with Jace’s clothes strewn in a heap at the foot of the bed.
“Can I take the cape off yet?” Jace asked irritably.
Clary set down her high heels and glanced at him over her shoulder. “Don’t you
want to do it like this? Didn’t you tell me at Magnus’s that the costumes are
sexy?”
“Yours is,” Jace specified. “Mine—” He plucked at the oversized cape with a
huff. “—is obnoxious. Besides, with the luck I’ve been having tonight, it’ll
flip over my head and all your laughing will break the mood.”
Clary did have to admit that she had spent much of the night laughing at Jace’s
plight and he was probably right about the cape. “Okay,” she relented. “You can
take the cape off.”
Eagerly, Jace unfastened the laces, pulled off the cape, and threw it across
the room as if it had down something to him personally. With a happy sigh, he
toed off his heavy boots and crossed the bedroom to take Clary in his arms.
“Now,” he said silkily, “where were we?”
“Right about here,” Clary said with a small growl befitting a vampire costume.
Then, she gripped him by the lapels of his vest and pulled him to her hungrily.
Jace’s mouth was hot and tasted vaguely of cider. His stick-on fangs pricked at
her tongue and she groaned into his mouth, nipping at his tongue when he tried
to snake it in her mouth. Jace pushed her back against the wall, trying to
dominate the kiss as he usually did, but Clary was having none of that tonight.
Jace wasn’t sure if it was the costume, the magic of Halloween, or something
that had been slipped into the cider of Magnus’s party, but he liked this.
She pulled him away from the bed, leading him towards his lower dresser. When
the small of her back pressed against the cool wood, she guided his hands to
her behind and encouraged him to help her jump onto the surface. Jace did so
without breaking the kiss and was delighted to find that Clary was now at the
perfect height. Her hands tugged at the belt of his black trousers, dipping in
and gripping his member tightly. Jace groaned, breaking away from the kiss to
nip at her throat with his fangs.
She shuddered at the scrape of his teeth against her sensitive skin and ran her
fingers just around the mushroomed head of him, prying a quiver of pleasure
from him that ran through his entire body like an electrical current. His mouth
dipped lower, nipping at the swell of her breast over the bodice of her vampire
costume. He dragged the fabric lower, tugging down her bra as well so that her
naked breasts swelled over the top of her clothing.
He teased her, brushing his lips all around her breasts and pressing kisses
into the valley between them. She shivered, blood flushing her nipples and
making them deliciously sensitive. Finally, Jace folded his warm mouth over
them, nibbling lightly with his fangs. Clary gasped, digging the fingers of one
hand through his golden hair and pulling his lips back to hers so she could
kiss him. Her other hand remained wrapped around his shaft, stroking him.
Jace groaned against her lips, helpless against her. Clary felt giddy with the
power she had over him. She stroked him harder, twisting her fingers to press
along the sensitive underside of his shaft, and was rewarded with a breathless
gasp of bliss. She wrapped her second hand around him, keeping her pace erratic
so Jace wouldn’t be able to adjust to the feeling of her hands. She pulled one
hand towards his tip, caressing the weeping head lightly, while the other moved
towards the base to squeeze tightly.
Another gasp escaped his parted lips, caught somewhere between a hapless moan
and her name. She stroked faster, teasing him until he was right on the edge.
His fingers tightened on her shoulders, his breath came short, and his hips
bucked helplessly into her hand. He was close, she knew he was close. Then, she
tightened her fingers around the base, effectively cutting off his orgasm, and
Jace whimpered out her name.
She pushed him back slightly and jumped down from the dresser, sliding to her
knees at his feet. Then, she parted her lips and took him into her mouth, being
mindful of her stick-on fangs. He groaned, his fingers tangling in her hair, as
she began to bob her head over his shaft. She pressed her tongue to the
underside, licking in rhythm with the movements of her mouth and hands. It
didn’t take much for Jace to tumble over the edge, his member twitching with
his release.
Clary pulled away, her throat working as she swallowed, but no matter how much
she loved him, the potent saltiness would never taste especially good. Jace
slid to his knees beside her, pulling her close for a kiss. He knew she hated
to swallow, but she did it for him, so he would always kiss her afterwards.
Clary melted into the kiss, closing her eyes happily as Jace enveloped her in
his arms. She felt the pounding of his heart beneath his shirt and smiled.
Then, she pushed him down on the floor and straddled him. He could feel the
heat of her sex, the wetness even through her panties, and groaned. He was
still hard, clinging to the stamina he had when he fought demons with both
hands at this point. Clary was just too sexy in her vampire costume. She pushed
aside her panties and sheathed him inside her with a moan of pleasure. Her back
arched and Jace closed his hand over her bare breasts.
She began to ride him, her breasts bouncing. She clung to his shoulders as she
leaned down to kiss him. Her hips rocked against him, meeting thrust for
thrust. Jace gripped her waist and Clary answered his unspoken command even
before he voiced it. She rose onto her knees, giving him control to pound into
her, and just enjoyed the feeling of him sliding in and out of her body. She
gasped, loose strands of hair falling down over her shoulders.
She threw her head back, gasping in pleasure, as Jace’s pace grew more wild and
deep as he drew closer to the peak. Then, his orgasm rocked him and he could
only cling to her like an anchor in a storm. She kissed him, tongues and fangs
meeting in a frenzy that most vampires would have been proud of. Then, she
collapsed beside him, breathing hard. Jace found that his treacherous cape was
lying only a few feet away but was actually happy to see it now. He drew it
over them, wrapping her tightly in his arms.
“Well, I think I like Halloween,” Jace said softly.
“Really?” Clary asked breathlessly, smiling.
“Yeah. I’ve really warmed up to the cape thing. I might start wearing one all
the time.”
Clary’s mouth quirked to the side, disgruntled. “Hey Jace?”
“What?”
She took his finger into her mouth, lavishing attention on it with her tongue,
reminding him of what she had been doing with her mouth only minutes before. A
haze came over Jace’s mind as all the blood in his body rushed south. Then, he
felt the scrape of her stick-on fangs and knew what was coming.
“Ouch!” he yelped as she bit down hard on his finger.
                                     X X X
(1) Contrary to the belief of the epic M&Ms commercial, the actual meaning of
Meatloaf’s song is that ‘He’ll do anything for love except forget how he feels
right now.’ It has nothing to do with things he wouldn’t do for love—like climb
in an oven or run through hell.
Questions, comments, concerns?
Review for Halloween! (It’s my most favorite holiday ever!)
***** A Knight's Tale *****
Epically inspired by the hilarious movie, A Knight’s Tale (even though it took
kind of a dark turn here).
Summary: “Fair Clary, may I introduce you to Jace, the occasionally naked and
always in trouble herald to Sir Alexander Lightwood?”
                                     X X X
Clarissa Fairchild, the earl’s lovely daughter, had never appreciated going to
the tournaments. She didn’t like to watch jousting or swordplay, she didn’t
even particularly care for the food like her in lady-in-waiting did, and she
found all the gallant knights to be stiff and overpowering. But all that
changed when she ran into him—not that the meeting was anything to be
appreciated either. In fact, it was downright strange.
The day was beautiful and sunny with a crisp breeze blowing in off the distant
lake. Clary was riding her favorite horse, a dappled grey mare that was
spirited and quick, and wearing her favorite dress of cool emerald cotton with
cream-colored accents. Her long red hair was pleated over her shoulder, tangled
with jade and white ribbons that echoed the recent Maypole celebrations. The
stadium beside the lake where the tournament was being held was just coming
into view on the crest of the nearest hill.
And then, like a mirage on a hot summer day, he appeared out of nowhere.
He was walking on the edge of the wide dirt road, barefoot and tanned golden
and toned with fine muscles. He had his back to her so at first Clary wasn’t
certain what she was seeing wasn’t just a result of her overactive imagination.
She urged her mare to trot a little so that she could pull abreast of the
strange young man. When she got a little closer, she realized that what she was
seeing was not only real, but twice as shocking. He was in fact completely
naked from his head to his toes—his butt cheeks sticking out for the world to
see, his genitals swinging in the breeze.
Clary was too shocked to speak, her eyes fastening to him like tar and
feathers.
“Morning,” he said cheerfully and lifted his hand to give her horse’s neck a
pat.
Clary just stared at him, stricken, a flush rising into her cheeks. “What are
you doing?”
He looked down at himself and appeared to consider covering his nakedness, but
didn’t. “Well, you see, I’m walking back to the arena.”
“Were you robbed?” she asked, finally managing to keep her eyes above his
waist.
He chuckled, wincing as he stepped on a sharp rock in his bare feet. “All at
once yes and yet still a huge resounding no.”
Clary jerked her eyes forward. “Then, what happened?”
He laughed again and opened his mouth to speak, but before he could answer, a
knight on a fantastically large black horse bounded out of the woods. Clary
recognized the knight immediately since he was one of the best knights in the
tournament—Sir Alexander Lightwood.
“Hey Alec,” the naked young man said with equal cheer and nonchalance as he had
when greeting Clary.
“You great fool,” the knight said without sparing Clary a glance. He took off
his vest and tossed it to the naked youth. “Put that on and let’s go.”
“But I’m having such a nice chat with a beautiful lady,” he said as he shrugged
into the vest. Luckily, it was long enough to cover his nudity, even if only
just barely.
“Nice chat my ass,” came a female voice.
With a jolt, Clary turned to look towards the sound of the voice and saw
several people walk out of the overgrown forest. They were obviously in the
service of Alexander Lightwood since they were all wearing his colors. The
first to emerge from the woods was a tall man with strange bright eyes. At his
back was a dark-haired woman carrying a blacksmith’s hammer and looking
incredibly irritated. Last but not least, a lanky teenager stumbled out of the
bushes and adjusted his glasses with a fierce glare on his face. (1)
“I’ll fong (2) you!” shouted the boy with glasses.
Then, in a movement that was on par with some of the knights Clary had seen in
the arena, he lunged for the naked young man. He grabbed him in a headlock and
started punching him somewhere Clary didn’t want to look. There was a lot of
shouting as the two grappled for control of the fight. They went down in the
grass, rolling and snarling like cats.
Clary remained on her horse, stunned and stricken as the two fought. Then, she
had to look away after she got a sharp and sudden view of the naked youth’s
backside.
“For God’s sake, Jace, Simon,” Alec shouted at the two squabbling boys.
“Isabelle, Magnus, someone break them up.”
Magnus made his way over to where they were still fighting and rolling about on
the ground, stepping carefully. Then, he grabbed Simon by his shirt and Jace by
a fistful of golden hair since he had been naked to start with and had lost his
borrowed vest in the fight. “Stop it,” he said to them sternly with his bright
eyes shining like daggers.
Simon looked properly chastised and went to pick his glasses out of the high
grass.
Jace, on the other hand, slid Clary a smile that was all perfect white teeth.
“So, will I see you at the tournament?” he asked.
“The only thing you’re going to see is the inside of a sack,” Isabelle called
with a wave of her hammer. “Now, put that vest on and get over here.”
Magnus bundled the naked youth back into the long vest and went about shoving
him down the dirt road behind their knight. Clary was left in the dust, staring
helplessly at the strange sight as it headed off towards the arena. For once,
she was actually looking forward to the tournament.
…
Clary was sitting beside her lady-in-waiting in the stands, watching the
tournament with her usual ennui. She wasn’t sure what exactly it was about the
bored look on her face, but it always somehow encouraged knights to offer to
win the tournament for her. She wasn’t even inclined to accept their words with
her usual grace today. She just banished them with a wave of her hand,
continuing to watch for the knight she had seen earlier.
Then, with a suddenness that implied he had been launched from a cannon, the
naked youth—Jace, as Sir Alec had called him—was abruptly in the middle of the
arena. He must have been the knight’s herald. He leaped nimbly onto the railing
that separated the jousters and stood there, shouting something that was hard
to hear from the distance where Clary was seated.
From what she could make out, Jace shouted at the top of his lungs, “I first
met him at the side of a lake in a distant land. He came from the water like an
angel, having just rescued a mermaid! My liege, the Protector of Virginity, the
Hand of Our Angel… Sir Alexander Lightwood!”
There was a fanfare of trumpets as Jace jumped down from the rail and rushed
back to his knight’s side. Clary saw him smiling, the flash of his white teeth,
as he spoke to Simon and Magnus. Both looked like they wanted to smack him. Sir
Alec sat atop his horse like a statue, his eyes on the target. Their strange
female blacksmith, Isabelle, stood beside him, adjusting something in his armor
that Clary didn’t understand. Then, Simon handed Alec a lance and the
tournament raged into action.
Jace ran hither and thither while his liege charged the competition, the
splinters of broken lances filling the air. He was shouting things, ramping up
the crowd with a wave of his hand and the easy part of his lips and the shine
of his white teeth. He suddenly spotted Clary in the stands and blew her a
swift kiss before whirling his attention back to the match.
“Who is that?” Clary’s lady-in-waiting, Maia, leaned over to ask.
“The herald to Sir Alexander,” Clary said in passing.
Maia eyed her lady and then looked back out over the tournament. “I’ve never
seen you pay so much attention to one knight. Do you fancy him?”
Clary snorted. “He has not offered to win their tournament for me.”
Maia’s lips pulled in a bright smile. “Oh? I didn’t realize you liked that so
much. I thought you might enjoy not being chased. Some ladies enjoy doing the
chasing.”
Clary glowered at Maia and missed the exact moment when a lance carved into Sir
Alec’s side and unhorsed him with a crash of armor. The crowd was a mix of
booing and cheering, jeering and shouting. Clary turned back just in time to
see the entire horde of Sir Alec’s attendant swarm the field to their liege’s
side.
Isabelle was quick to grab the horse, pulling it down from its powerful rear
and stroking its pale nose. Magnus was the first to Alec’s side, pulling off
his helmet and pressing a hand to the sizable dent in his armor. Simon stood
over them, watching for a few heartbeats, then he whirled with a threat to the
other knight. He took off across the field, shouting, and Clary was suddenly
terrified that he intended to attack the winning knight—such an act would mean
his death. She rose from her seat, heart in her throat, but her worry proved
unnecessary.
In a breath, Jace headed Simon off at the railing between the jousters and
shoved him back down over the rail in a plume of dust. He turned back to the
winning knight, smiling with his white teeth, and applauded politely as if he
hadn’t just headed off an attack. “Well done, my lord,” he praised the other
knight. “Well done.”
The knight stared at him for a moment and then turned to tip his helmet at
Clary. She half expected Jace to blow her another kiss, but he turned away
instead. He clambered up over the rail and hurried to his knight’s side, worry
lining his face. It must have been bitter for him to praise the other knight’s
win while Sir Alec lay in the dirt. It was then that Clary realized that he was
very different from anyone she had ever met before.
Maia leaned over again, chuckling. “Do you wish to meet them, my lady?”
Clary elbowed Maia sharply in the side. “Shut up. There are still several more
matches.”
Magnus and Simon got Alec to his feet, dusted him off, and the knight lifted
his hand in a gesture of triumph. Jace jumped back up on the railing and
shouted the crowd back into a frenzy of eagerness for the remainder of the
tournament.
…
It was nightfall when Clary made her way through the forest of tents where the
knights and their squires slept while the tournament was active. She had
memorized Sir Alec’s shield and colors and it was an easy matter to find her
way. She arrived just as the doctor was leaving with his black medical bag. He
tipped his hat to her politely and held open the flap of the tent for her as if
she belonged here. With small thanks, she entered the tent.
Sir Alec was lying in bed, a quilt pulled up to his shoulders. His face was
pale and drawn, there was a hideous bruise creeping up his side to his neck,
and his shoulder had recently been relocated into the socket. Magnus was
sitting at his side, pouring hot tea into a simple mug. He looked up sharply
when Clary entered.
“What are you doing here, my lady?” Magnus demanded with a strange mix of
politeness and irritability. There was a massive bruise on his face and his lip
was split.
“Are you alright?” Clary asked, directing her question to both of them.
Alec heaved himself into a sitting position against the cushions on his bed.
“What do you want?” he asked Clary and his voice was surprisingly soft for such
a big man.
She didn’t have an answer for him and was about to excuse herself when Jace,
Simon, and Isabelle stumbled into the tent.
They each looked just as bad as Magnus did—as if someone had beaten them up.
Alec cursed and stretched out his hands. Jace was supporting Simon almost
completely as he dragged the teen over to Alec’s bedside and slumped him down
into a chair. Isabelle was carrying her hammer still and it looked suspiciously
bloody yet she had a wad of cloth pressed to a painful gash on her face. Jace
looked the worse out of the three of them, his face bruised and battered and
there were dark handprints around his thin throat.
“What happened?” Clary breathed out, stricken.
Jace sat down heavily on the edge of Alec’s bed, leaning against Isabelle’s
shoulder when she sat down beside him, and didn’t answer. His golden eyes were
downcast.
Magnus took Isabelle’s bloodied cloth, rinsed it in cold water, and handed it
back to her. Then, he gave another such rag to Jace and lay one across Simon’s
entire face. Alec reached out, tugging at Magnus’s shirt until the young man
sat down again.
Clary just started at them, her heart pounding uncomfortably against the cage
of her ribs. Again, she asked, “What happened?”
“Other knights,” Jace muttered, pressing the cold cloth around his throat.
“What do you mean?” Clary asked him.
Magnus handed Jace a mug of tea and made him drink. “Sir Alec won the
tournament—he usually does.”
“And the other knights beat you up?” Clary whispered.
“No,” Magnus continued. “They would have beaten us anyway, even if Alec lost.”
“Why?” she asked.
“Because they hate us,” Jace grumbled.
Magnus handed Simon a mug of tea and angled Isabelle’s face so he could see the
gash on her cheek better. “Just look at us,” he said. “And you’ll understand
why. Sir Alec is a knight from a noble family and yet… we’re his entourage.
Isabelle is a woman and a blacksmith and yet she made his armor. Simon is an
orphan, his family wiped out by the Black Plague, and therefore a pariah. Jace
is,” Magnus glanced at the blond youth, “Well, you’ve seen him.”
“He’s a nudist?” Clary asked.
Jace barked out a humorless laugh that ended in a pained cough.
Magnus glanced at Jace and reached out to smooth some of his pale hair away
from the gash above his eye. “Does it hurt?”
“Of course,” Jace muttered and batted away Magnus’s hand, “but I’m fine.”
“What about you?” Clary asked Magnus.
Magnus chuckled somberly. “Let’s just leave it at… I like knights more than I
like ladies.”
Clary’s cheeks flushed as she scrutinized Sir Alec’s strange entourage. “Well,
I guess I’ll be going,” she said softly.
Magnus grasped her wrist. “If you’re seen leaving our tent, it could be bad for
you,” he said quietly. “You don’t want to be associated with us.”
“I’ll walk her back,” Jace offered, rising to his feet with a groan.
“Jace, no,” Isabelle said.
But Jace had already grasped Clary’s hand and pulled her from the tent. He led
her quickly through the maze of tents, glancing back over his shoulder with
some frequency. He looked as if he expected to be attacked any moment now and
honestly, Clary couldn’t blame him.
“So, what do they have against you?” she asked.
He let the question slide away. “What did you say your name was?”
“I didn’t,” Clary said.
Jace grinned at her cheekily. “Well, I’m Jace.”
She snorted. “I knew that already.”
He waited patiently, his fingers warm and rough clasped around hers.
“I’m Clary,” she said finally.
“That’s a pretty name,” he said with a smile.
Then, a knight in shining armor stepped from the shadows. He was wearing metal
gauntlets and carrying a sheathed sword. “Well, well,” he said. “Do you think
this little girl will be able to protect you from us, pretty Jace? You got away
earlier because your knight came along and then you managed to escape with the
help of your friend with the hammer.”
A second knight emerged. “Yeah, she might be a woman, but she certainly knows
how to swing that hammer of hers. She’s a dangerous little bitch. I’d love to
bed her. I bet she’s as hot as her forge.”
Jace’s lips pulled back over his perfect teeth and he released Clary’s hand to
get right in the knight’s face. “Don’t you dare talk about her that way,” he
snapped.
The first knight lunged quickly and grabbed Jace around the throat, jerking his
forward harshly. The second knight pulled out a small dagger and slashed Jace’s
shirt, ripping it away from his naked chest. Jace whirled away in a flurry of
shredded fabric, but the first knight grabbed him by his hair and slammed him
to his knees. The second yanked down his pants, kicking Jace hard in a place
Clary didn’t want to look. Jace yelped out in pain, his lips twisting.
“It always amuses me how you wind up naked at my feet, Jace,” the first knight
hissed. “Tell me, do you wind up naked at Sir Alec’s feet? Is that why he keeps
you around?”
“I’m his herald,” Jace snarled with a bitter smirk. “Not every knight needs to
bed their squires and blacksmiths.”
The blow was sharp and sudden, cutting off Jace’s words. Then, there was the
shine of a dagger as it pressed to his pale throat. Blood welled along the edge
of the blade, running down Jace’s chest in rivulets, and Clary couldn’t just
stand by any longer. She was the Earl Fairchild’s daughter!
“Stop!” she shouted, her voice high and loud in the night’s stillness. “Release
him immediately.”
“On what authority, little girl?” the first knight hissed.
“Do you want to take his place?” the second jeered.
Jace’s face went white-pale, his golden eyes wide and shining like sunken
treasure. “Clary!”
Instead, she pulled the crest of her family from the chain she kept around her
neck. Usually, it hung low, hidden in the crease of her breasts, but it was
unmistakable in the firelight. “You can try,” she said in her father’s
voice—powerful and fierce. “But I guarantee you will regret it. If you know
what’s good for you, you’ll act like knights are supposed to. Now, release
him!”
The knights may have been foolish enough to attack Sir Alec, but they would
never cross Earl Fairchild. They backed off, throwing Jace in a heap at her
feet. She didn’t immediately move to help him, remaining tall and regal with
her head held high. Then, once the rogue knights vanished into the shadows
again, she quickly knelt at Jace’s side. He had pulled up his pants, but was
still shirtless and all the injuries on his chest were painfully dark in the
firelight.
“Are you okay?” she asked.
“You’re the Earl Fairchild’s daughter?” Jace breathed out.
She nodded, tucking some red hair behind her ear.
“Why didn’t you say anything?”
“You didn’t ask,” she said coolly.
Jace looked stricken for a moment, but then his lips pulled into a small smile.
“Well, fong me,” he said softly. Then, out of the blue, he was kissing her with
a sort of desperation that Clary had never tasted before. He was kissing her as
if he was going to die, as if the world was about to crumble away beneath his
feet, as if this was his last hope.
Clary struggled to push him away. “Jace! Jace, what—?”
“Take us under your protection,” he whispered against her lips, pressing kisses
to the sensitive places on her neck and beneath her ears so that she trembled
in his arms. He certainly knew exactly where to touch to make a woman melt.
“Take Alec under your protection. Make him your knight. I’ll do anything you
ask of me—just do it.”
“Jace, stop,” Clary said sternly and pushed him back a few inches.
He strained against her hands, the muscles in his chest and shoulders standing
out. He would usually have had the strength to lean past her arms and kiss her
again, but all his injuries made it difficult. Pain was visible in the set of
his jaw and in his eyes and in the way he shivered.
“Jace,” Clary began, but he must have sensed the finality in her voice.
He put his finger to her lips. “Wait,” he pleaded. “Don’t say anything yet. Let
me win you over. Let me try.” Then, he kissed her again and the press of his
lips was more gentle than the flutter of a bird’s wings. His breath was light
and soft, his strong arms circled her like a castle, and she was suddenly
wrapped in the scent of his skin. “I can make you feel nothing you’ve ever felt
before,” he breathed into her.
Clary had fully intended to protest, to push him away, and walk away
completely. But then his fingers ghosted along the low neck of her dress and
the sensation that rushed through her was something she had never felt before.
Her entire body filled with heat and melted away until all she could remember
about herself was how the touch of Jace’s hands and lips made her feel. He
might have been only a herald, but he was so much more than any of the knights
she had seen at the tournament.
Jace pulled her to her feet in a whisper of long skirts and backed her into a
nearby tent. It was unoccupied and filled with sacks of flour and barrels of
ale, the storage tent for cooking. Jace eased her down against the flour sacks,
still kissing her with all the tenderness in the world. Clary lay back
bonelessly, her thighs squeezing around his hips as he pressed against her. Her
hands wandered the naked expanse of his chest, passing lightly over his bruises
with a wince.
He unlaced the bodice of her dress enough that he could press his mouth to the
bared swell of her breasts. She threw her head back, her hands tangling in his
golden tresses with a soft moan. He hitched up her skirt, his hands grazing all
along her thighs without ever touching exactly where she wanted him to. She was
beginning to ache, desperate and damp, her pulse pounding softly at her very
core, and still Jace didn’t touch her.
She was about to plead with him when his teeth scraped lightly over the raised
peak of her nipple. She cried out softly, shuddering in his hands, and a little
wild moan escaped her lips. Jace trailed kisses all around her exposed breasts,
occasionally feathering attention over her most sensitive place, but only
occasionally. Clary felt as if she was going to either break down or melt if he
didn’t give her exactly what she wanted some time soon. She whimpered between
moans, clutching him close.
Jace feathered his lips down her belly, pressing kisses over the soft fabric of
her dress. He passed over the place she wanted him most of all and continued
lavishing near-torturous attention on her thighs. His hair tickled her bare
skin lightly, sending little shivers all through her body. Then, he pressed a
hot open-mouthed kiss to the very center of her and she nearly screamed. He
pressed his palms over her lower belly, his thumbs sliding beneath the
waistband of her panties.
She arched against him, crying out his name desperately. Jace tugged her
panties down her thighs and handed them to her so they wouldn’t be lost amidst
all the foodstuffs in the tent. For a moment, despite how badly she wanted him,
she hesitated and pressed her thighs tightly together. Jace didn’t press her.
Instead, he pressed more kisses to her thighs and hips until her legs parted
like a flower blooming readily. She glistened beneath ruby curls, so ready and
waiting.
Jace blew a plume of cool air over her quivering flesh, watching her shiver
weakly in his arms. Then, he lightly parted the lips of her sex and drew a long
slow lick over her center. She moaned wantonly, her head thrown back in a
cascade of red silk, and clung to him. He delved into her core in a way that
she had never been touched before, feathering soft attention over her hard
pearl and cool air over her heated core. His tongue was hot and his hair was
like silk where if tickled her bare thighs.
When he pushed one finger inside her, she nearly screamed. She had explored her
own body, but it had never felt like this. Her thighs quivered, the muscles
turning to butter beneath the heat of his hands. Jace pressed into her core,
his tongue reaching a place inside of her that she had never been able to touch
on her own. She whimpered out his name, her fingers tangling desperately in his
blond hair. He made a soft sound in his throat and then moved his finger
against her.
She came in a sudden flash of blinding stars that filled her entire world. She
was only half aware of Jace as he continued to lick and stroke her as she rode
out the last throes of her orgasm. Then, she collapsed against the flour sacks,
breathing hard. Jace gently took her panties from her hands, slipped them over
her legs, and fastened the laces of her bodice back into place to preserve her
modesty. Then, he wiped his mouth with his hand and sat down beside her,
breathing softly.
His skin was so warm and as soft as living velvet beneath the bruises that
marked him.
“Jace,” she breathed out.
He smiled and his eyes were like bright coins. “Anything you want,” he
whispered, “And I can do much better than that.”
She smiled at him and nestled against his side, pressing her fingers to the
naked skin of his battered chest.
After that, they competed beneath the colors and crest of the Fairchild family
and the knights never bothered Sir Alec Lightwood and his entourage ever again.
And the relationship between the earl’s daughter and Sir Alec’s herald became
the best kept secret that everyone knew, but no one talked about.
                                     X X X
(1) For those of you who have (or haven’t) seen A Knight’s Tale, here’s my
casting for this little one-shot. We have Alec as William/Sir Ulrich, Jace as
Geoffrey Chaucer, Simon as Wat, Magnus as Roland, Isabelle as Kate, and Clary
as Jocelyn.
(2) “Fong” is an actual word. It means “to strike.”
Questions, comments, concerns?
REVIEW! I have no clue if everyone is enjoying this or all those hits are
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comments! Do you like AU or cannon one-shots better? REVIEW!
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