A/N: I'm going crazy because I know City of Glass is out and yet, I don't have it. Can't, because it's not out yet in my country.
Your Hold on Me, I Cannot Resist
Jace knew what he was doing when he set out on a one man mission to irritate the hell out of Clary.
He could say that he was tired, bored and restless. He was all that and more. He was on edge, waiting for Valentine to strike and with Clary simply refusing to budge and follow meekly of his attempt to keep her safe and far away from the imminent fight.
But most of all, he admitted to himself, he was tired of her ignoring him since she caught him with Aline. Nothing overt of course, she didn't rant, she didn't rave, she certainly didn't accuse but there was something in her eyes every time she looked at him. A particular twist in her smile and the way she tried not to look at him unless it was absolutely necessary.
And the way she stuck to Sebastian's side like a limpet.
He prodded, he poked, used all of his well-proven method of making people crazy with his usual zest and single mindedness. When she turned at him with that slightly manic gleam in her eyes and a curl on her mouth, he knew he succeeded.
So, being Jace, he pushed a little more.
He grinned at her and used that drawled out tone in his voice that he knew sent her blood pressure through the roof.
He ducked when she flung the shinai—wooden bamboo swordshe was practicing with and to urge her on a little more, gave her a little smirk.
He dodged the sharp angled kick to his kidneys and maneuvered himself behind her, clutched the belt of her black gi and pulled it loose. She pivoted on her left foot, disconcerted with her lack of balance.
Just for the hell of it, he snapped the belt against her butt.
He was simply delighted when she turned and snarled at him. Pissed out of her mind, with a screech she lunged at him and he let her catch him, falling backwards so she ended up falling on top of him.
They rolled and grappled over the practice mat and he almost groan aloud in pleasure at the feel of her slim wriggling body beneath his.
Finally, finally he could get his hands on her again. It was complete torture seeing her parading around in the practice room wearing the customary black sleeveless gi and pants set with only a thin tank top underneath it. The color made her hair looked redder and her skin smoother and flawless than ever.
The tank top was riding up her stomach with the way she was fighting him, she was livid and he loved the way anger made her face flush. Her green eyes flashed fire at him and he felt his heart quicken. Her hair tangled wildly around her face, contrasting with the dark blue practice mat and he fisted his hands in them, reveling on the feel of it between his fingers.
Hands slipped over sweat slicked skin, fingers gripping, nails biting, teeth gritting, legs tangling. Jace scissored her legs, twisted his upper body and again, ended up on top.
When she tried the same maneuver, Jace pinned her legs with his and slammed her hands beside her head and grinned down at her.
Her lush mouth spewed curses at him and he felt his stomach muscles clenched with laughter and something else; something darker, wilder and harder to resist.
He laughed in her face and laughed even more when his action seemed to spur her anger even more.
She managed to twist a hand free and scratched at his cheek.
He caught her hand and held both in one of his, without taking his golden eyes away from hers, he touched his wounded cheek, felt the sting and dampness. He glanced at his fingers that came away with red, quirking an eyebrow he returned his eyes to hers.
The smug and challenging smile on her face faltered when he brought his fingers to his mouth and sucked.
Clary's small even teeth dug into her bottom lip at the sight of the tip of his tongue, drawing his eyes to her mouth and the fire in his eyes changed into something deeper, hotter.
She may be sixteen but something inside her, some ancient female instinct knew what that look meant.
"Jace, don't." She swallowed when his eyes, glowing with some strange inner light slowly climbed up her face. The look on his face frightened her because she knew it was only a reflection of her own expression. She felt him shift and press their bodies closer and she trembled, her breath caught on her throat when his face leaned down, down, down. And she wanted, wanted it so bad she could already taste his lips on hers but...
"Jace," His name was a breath on her lips. "You promised—"
His eyes lifted back to hers and the look inside them tore her heart to pieces and she could feel his heart drumming fast against her own.
"I tried." His voice was low and hoarse and uneven. "I tried but I can't."
"One more. Just one more." He murmured into her lips.
His lips touched hers and that was the end of it.
Open flame dancing on gasoline.
Her breath shivered out of her lips into his.
Shared breath, shared heartbeats, shared blood.
Clary felt his hands speared into her hair and his weight was glorious against her body. Her blood simmered and boiled at the touch of his lips on hers and everything else was lost to her and only Jace and what he was making her feel, remain.
He always kissed her like she was the only thing he'd ever wanted, the only thing he had, the one thing he'd ever hoped for. He touched her—his hands slipped under her tank top, fingers splaying on the soft skin of her stomach, slipping against the arch of the small of her back—like she was something he craved that had been denied for much too long.
From the way her hands slid up his shoulders and tugged at his golden locks, then slid down to encircle his shoulders, he probably felt the same echo of need rising from her and, God forbid Jace would ever deny her of anything she needed, he gave her everything he could.
He kissed her like he needed no air, just herherher, molding their bodies together he felt the tiny little bites of lust and bit down on her bottom lip.
The steady flow of affection; of shared laughs and quite nights made him sooth her quivering skin with gentle hands.
And it was the quiet ache of love that made him pull away when he tasted tears.
Green eyes filled with tears looked up at him and ripped at his heart and made him think that every bad opinion about him was true. He lifted himself up and she sat up as he quieted his breathing and settled himself. He felt himself dying a silent death at each drop of tear.
"I'm sorry." No, he wasn't. He wasn't sorry. He never wanted to apologize about kissing her or touching her. He would never mean it. He turned his head away from the tears in her eyes that stared at him, but she touched him and always when she did, he turned to her.
"No, no Jace. It's not—" More tears trickled down when he met her eyes and she tried, tried to say what it was that clutched at her heart. He saw it; the same ache, the same need, the same yearning that he felt reflected back by her eyes. His hands cupped her face and her lips; bruise and swollen from his, trembled. "It's not because of—it's just that..."
He leaned his forehead against his and closed his eyes. "I know." He whispered. "I know."
It felt so good, so right and yet, they knew it to be wrong. But how can it? How can the only time they felt so at home and so whole was forbidden for them? Was this how it was ever going to be for them? Pulled to each other but unable to be together. Always half a person, always incomplete?
If this was something so wrong, so taboo then why does it exist at all?
Jace tightened his hold on her when he felt her tremble, letting loose her tears for the unfairness of it all and knew that she was crying his tears too.