Title: Power
Author: SubtleSpark
Rating: T (For implications)
Warnings: Some pretty descriptions, nothing else
Characters: Clary, Jace
Summary: Because Clary's mind runs away with her and Jace likes to barge in at the wrong time.
Author Notes: I'm so very sorry it's been so long since I've updated this. Real life gets in the way, you know? But I won't make this long, you probably want to get to reading, huh?
Reviews: My thanks to everyone who added me/this story to their favorites/alerts or reviewed, it truly does mean a lot to me!


Clary stared down vacantly at the blank piece of heavy paper in her lap, pen poised to draw the rune that floated hazily in and out of her mind. The strong, concise lines remind her of something contained, though what exactly she couldn't be sure.

Letting the feeling of the rune fill her as her pen scrawled across the page. She let the tinge of leonine strength, of hidden power, guide her, not truly aware of the image she was drawing.

Which was why she was dismayed when she relaxed and finally let her pen rest. The picture on her page was not of a complete rune, but of a complete body. Filled with Jace's body to be exact.

Just as the last four pages had been filled with him.

He was laying back against a pillow, one hand behind his head and the other curled softly on his stomach. Unruly hair in artful disarray and curled at the temples, full lashes inky against his cheek, hooded eyes full of mischief and secrets that one would sell their soul to know.

And naked except for the sheet that stopped at the line of his hips- one long leg stuck out teasingly so that the definition of his muscular thigh and strong calf was visible.

The dark black ink and bright white of the paper highlighted the contrasts, the dips and hollows, but in her mind she could practically see how the bronze palette of his skin would stand out against the snowy white sheets. Against her snowy white sheets.

In a word, the picture was devastating.

Clary felt a blush flood her cheeks as she really stopped to look at what she had drawn. She was no stranger to the broad and sculpted expanse of Jace's chest that took up the majority of the page, she had seen it enough during training and felt it enough during some of their more… vigorous activities, but it had never invaded her thoughts to this degree before.

And then, as if called to her by her thoughts, her unsuspecting model breezed into the room, looking deliciously rumpled and damp from a recent shower.

Clary yelped at his entrance and attempted to shove her sketchpad into her bedside table, but only ended up on the ground, twisted sheets wrapped around her ankles and drawings of all sorts scattered across the floor.

Shit.

Her sketchbook was private, her repository where she placed every illicit thought and confusing dream, every uncertain rune and vivid nightmare, in an attempt to make sense of it all. And especially now, with so many sketches of Jace on her pages, there was no way that she could allow him to see.

But as always, he didn't listen to her pleas, even if they were silent ones, and bent down to start picking up the weighty pieces of cardstock as she struggled to untangle herself.

"No! I've got it Jace! Put them down!" she shouted as she finally freed herself and stood up, the sudden desperation in her voice catching his attention enough to freeze him in place, the single piece of paper held loosely in his grasp.

"Alright, alright Clary! I won't help you pick up your…" he trailed off, for the first time looking down at the drawing in his hand. The drawing that she had just finished.

The silence stretched out between them and Clary felt as if the pressure would make her chest cave in, but then he placed the paper on her bureau and slowly began to walk towards her, brilliant eyes the color of molten gold.

This is what she was trying to subconsciously capture was the errant thought that entered her head as she began to back away from him and towards her bed. Right in this moment, Jace was all contained strength and barely leashed power. The epitome of a hunter. And she was his prey. His captured prey, as he reached her and softly guided her down onto the unmade sheets.

She might have to leave more of her drawings out if this was the result.