|Their Gypsy Hearts
Author: Majesta Moniet PM
"Every surmounted crest is a victory, every wreck a devastating loss." A collection of Mortal Instruments drabbles. Jace/Clary among other pairings. Various ratings.Rated: Fiction T - English - Romance - Chapters: 6 - Words: 4,123 - Reviews: 32 - Favs: 26 - Follows: 23 - Updated: 05-13-12 - Published: 03-18-11 - id: 6833892
|A+ A- Full 3/4 1/2 Expand Tighten|
I created this story as a place to post my Mortal Instruments drabbles that I've written sporadically over the last year and continue to write off and on. The majority of them will be Jace/Clary, but you'll see some other pairings as well. Please keep in mind that the ratings for the drabbles vary and some may be rated M.
Title: Spaces Between Us
Word Count: 436
Written For: the drabble challenge at tmi_fic last October.
(This is set during CoA, when Clary and Jace confront each other in his room after the Seelie Court.)
"We could keep it a secret."
The words curled like smoke against her ear, a mere wisp of possibility that threatened to dissipate with every passing moment it was allowed to fester in the empty space between them. Unanswered. Unexplained. Unembraced.
Her next breath was too sharp, too telling. "What…what do you mean?"
And she knew that Jace saw it. In that moment he saw her want. The need to take of something she shouldn't. And she wanted to take of Jace over and over and over and…
"Jace, what do you mean—"
"I mean…" Too quickly he was in front of her, and Clary would've stumbled back if not for the inexplicable pull that always—always—brought her closer to Jace. The curve of his lip found the rim of her ear. "I mean we could keep it a secret."
Steam continued to roll in from the open bathroom door. The moisture clung to her palms, and neck and hair, and Clary quite felt like she was drowning. The scent of Jace was everywhere.
"I-t?" she stuttered, as Jace moved unbearably closer, his broad shoulders hunched over hers until he was all she could see.
The heat of his breath along her jaw was suddenly everything she could comprehend.
"This." And he was kissing her.
It was slow and unfocused with everywhere in the world to go. And he could, Clary realized, take her anywhere, and she would willingly follow. And now, as his tongue curled coaxingly around hers, he was leading them straight to Hell. And she wanted to burn.
Because this slow smoldering was so stunning.
Her fingers traced the sensations over his bare abdomen, mapping out every shared gasp, swallowed moan, and stolen touch. And when her hands couldn't keep up, she closed her eyes and saw it all with perfect clarity. Gold paint splashed on the backs of her eyelids.
Dragging his teeth from her collar bone, he hummed against her throat, "Clary."
His hand found the button of her damp jeans, pulled it open, and worked the stiff material down her legs.
Her shirt put up less of a struggle.
"I'm your sister."
He nodded, took her face in his hands so that he could kiss her possessively again. When he pulled back, Clary was teetering with breathlessness. "Yes," he agreed, "and I'm going to have my way with you in the shower." The lightness of his eyes darkened to something deep and promising as he added in a low whisper, "And if you're a very good girl, I'll take you in my bed afterward."