This is M here, the author, not the rating. (Check the profile and it will all make sense).

This is my adventure into the land of one of my favorite series, the Mortal Instruments. It's just a short little ditty on Isabelle and Simon's relationship, although they are never specifically named. No, the lemon is not detailed. Deal.

I hope you enjoy!

Disclaimer: The Mortal Instruments and all it's affiliated characters belong to Cassandra Clare, not lowly little me.

...

Who'd have thought that music would make such a difference? They hadn't been anticipating that. They'd assumed that this stalemate would go on forever, last until he figured things out or she gave up. They hadn't thought that it would just blow up like this, that they would both lose control and that he would lose his virginity in the dark corner of a club.

He hadn't thought anything of it, asking her there. It was her sort of place. Edgy, slightly rebellious... and he hated it there. He always had. He needed something to make him see the better side of that place. He thought, well, why not her?

Maia would have hated it. She was into offbeat and retro. She scorned the generic scene, shunned the popular symbols of the day. She was so afraid of being forced to be like everyone else that she refused to see the world like anyone else at all.

And he liked that about her. But sometimes he didn't want to be punished for having ordinary interests. She, well, the other she, the one with the long dark hair and body to kill for, never judged him on anything he did. She was all over the place herself, obviously. A Shadowhunter, a sex goddess, a girl who wanted what every other person does. Love, security, freedom from fear. To her, he was an escape from everything, even though he wasn't a mundane anymore. He didn't hold the same pressures as all the other people in her life, didn't need anything from her. Except company and a reminder of reality.

They went together to the Pandemonium Club that night. And he'd taken her plenty of places before, even though they weren't dating. Not dating, because of the weird situation with her and him and Maia. Maia minded, but she didn't. She craved him, wanted him, but she didn't need to confine him. Not yet, anyways.

The music pounded in their ears, the lyrics typical and easy to predict. He'd wanted to stay on the sides, wait this ordeal out. When his band mates were done partying, he could take them home and be done with it. But she had other ideas. She grabbed a glass of clear, alcoholic liquid with one hand and his arm with the other. They ended up on the dance floor.

They were laughing and talking and dancing. He was so awkward, but she didn't seem to mind, slinking around him like a cat rubbing up against a loved one. She giggled, and said something about how becoming a vampire had not improved his dancing skills.

The room started spinning and she was so close to him... they had held off so long, his feelings for Maia holding them in place. But there they were. Apart one second, and the next clutching desperately to one another, bodies entwined.

Their mouths were frantic with lust and desperation. It had been to long for her, she had wanted for so long without any reward. He groped at her waist, hauled her away from the crowd. The minute they were off the dance floor, she crashed into him, arms around his neck, legs around his waist. And he didn't bother resisting. He wanted it too.

Her short black dress made it easy. They didn't bother with much foreplay. It was all need and desire and craving, enveloping them so they could not see the consequences.

It was hard and fast, up against that wall. He rammed into her and she sighed, pleasure written across her face. And then those sighs became screams, muffled as she bit into his neck. It was clumsy, and he half-thought she would complain. She'd had much better. But when it was over, she licked the bruise she'd made on his neck and said it had been wonderful.

It was a long time before they could unwrap themselves, and even longer before either could figure out what happened. When they did, it was all apologies and 'what were we thinking's. He tugged at his hair, she tore at her stockings. They avoided each others' eyes. The tension had not been alleviated by their tryst, only heightened. They were held apart only by the girl with the grungy clothes and sullen mouth. Maia.

They did not meet again for several weeks. She found company elsewhere. He pretended he still couldn't choose, even though the answer was now obvious. He told Maia to give it up. She growled and she hissed. She clawed at his face. Shouted derogatory things about his species. He hid his face and pretended she hadn't hurt him.

They were forced together in celebration of Clary's birthday. She was wearing the same little black dress, and he knew suddenly that it would all be okay. He stepped outside and she followed several minutes later.

She stretched out her hand to grab his and he met her halfway. The New York skyline glowed with lights. They walked down the street hand in hand, not saying a word.

...

Aim: Cute. Was it accomplished? Review and tell me!

Thanks for reading!

Love, M