Hello all,

Okay, for those of you who have read Hello New Boy so far, I am not abandoning it, I am merely trying this out.

This is sort of a test of my lemon writing skills, so please review.

I have never written a lemon before, or angst really either.

This is a one-shot angst-y lemon.

Both characters are a little OOC, soz.

Rights go to Cassandra Clare.

I was in an alley way when he found me. I didn't know where, just that it was an alley. The kind where the walls looked like one strong hit would knock it down, where it smelled like dead bodies and rotten fruit. It had stopped raining, but my hair was plastered wet to my cheeks, and my t-shirt was all but diaphanous.

I could smell him before I saw him. I could smell the familiar scent of green tea and fire, of magic and sugar. It was the scent I would wake up to, the scent that belonged to the man I loved more than I wanted to. Magnus. I heard him call to me, that sultry perfect voice calling my name a multitude of times. I didn't turn. I had a vain hope that if I didn't acknowledge him he might go away.

We had fought before I had left. I had fought. He just stood there, let me take my shots. He didn't get angry, he didn't fight back. I hated him for that. He hadn't screamed, he had just let me scream, let me yell, let me hate myself more than I hated him.

I felt his hand on my shoulder, the long thin fingers making a familiar squeeze in an attempt to comfort me. I shrugged it off hastily. When he made a try at grabbing my hand I spun around growling at him. He looked sad. In the back of my mind I knew that was my fault, but I was to overcome with loathing that I couldn't bring myself to care.

Despite the sad expression he was still so beautiful. His hair was wet too, down his neck, long and straight. His face was bare of makeup, apart from the eyeliner that was down in streaks on his cheeks. I hated it. I wished I didn't find him beautiful, didn't want to kiss him, didn't want to strip him of his flamboyant clothes and be by him until the sun came up.

We weren't gentle with each other. I wasn't gentle. Some days he would seem content with curling up on the couch, or just going to sleep. I couldn't handle that. I needed it hard, needed to be hurt, needed to be hit while we fucked. I couldn't live with the kindness, the love, I didn't deserve it.

I hit him, trying to get him angry. I needed him angry. He was too nice, too kind, too loving. It just reminded me of what I didn't want to be reminded of. His head snapped to the side, but besides that he didn't react. He turned back to face me. I saw the cheek I had hit glowing slightly red. That punch would probably have caused a human to fall, to cry, to clutch a broken jaw. I hit him again, this time in the nose, causing his head to snap back once. I felt the hot sting of tears in my eyes as he again didn't react.

It began to rain again, the cold water burning the bare skin of my arms like hot acid.

"Fight back," I growled out, shoving him in the chest. He stumbled back slightly but didn't raise a hand to me.

"No," He said, still not angry. I grabbed his shirt and threw him into the wall, the foundations of the building it belonged to shaking.

"Fight back!" I screamed. He stood shakily. He was bleeding now, dark blood showing through his pale shirt.

"No Alexander. I will not fight you," he said, his voice unnervingly steady. "I won't fight you while I still love you."

"Then don't! I don't want your love! Fight back!" I screamed, kicking his legs out from under him. He landed with a smack on the wet ground, probably breaking some ribs in the process. He may be immortal but he's not invulnerable. I straddled him in a position that on any other night probably would have been construed as sexual and used my balled up fists to hit his head back and forth. He had a split lip and the makings of a black eye.

With every hit he got more hurt, and I could see he was in pain, but not once did he hit back.

"Hurt me!" I yelled, my voice cracking as the tears streamed heavier than the rain. My hits were losing power; I couldn't bring myself to hurt him anymore. I stopped hitting completely and pulled back, looking at my horrible handiwork. His forehead was covered in blood as was his mouth. Both eyes were bruising and his nose was turned at an odd angle. I had done that.

I was disgusted with myself. I couldn't believe I had done this. I loved him and I hurt him, just in attempt to make him hurt me, to fulfil my own selfish needs. His right eye was puffy and closed. He wouldn't love me again. I knew it. How could anyone love someone who had almost killed them, who hadn't thought about their well being as they assaulted them?

He reached up a hand and pulled my face down to his, kissing me softly. It was closed mouth and soft, loving. It was the sort of kiss I hated, the sort that just reminded me that I was in love, that I was in a relationship, that I was a freak. But as his thumb rubbed up and down my cheekbone, I forgot that.

My body warmed up as the kiss remained loving no matter how hard I tried to make it deeper. He pulled away, his puffy eyes looking up at me.

"How can you still love me?" I asked, the tears again threatening to fall.

"I will always love you Alec. Can we go home now?" He asked, his voice muffled through his bleeding mouth. He winced as I got off him and again when he stood.

As we walked back to the apartment I had his arm draped over my shoulder, and he leaned into me, not able to walk on his own. I apologised over and over, which he brushed off. He said it wasn't my fault, that he shouldn't have made me angry. I couldn't even remember what made me angry to begin with and that just made it worse. I had almost killed him and I couldn't remember why.

At the apartment I laid him down on the couch. I reflexively reached for my steele before remembering he was a Downworlder and it would just make it worse.

"What can I do?" I asked, wanting desperately to fix this.

"Nothing babe. Don't worry. I'll fix it." He answered before his fingers started crackling with the familiar blue lightning. He ran his hands over his chest and face, slowly fixing the wounds. I watched with interest as his long fingers spidered over the injuries and they seemed to close up and heal.

Once he looked healed he sat up, cracking his knuckles and neck. I ran a hand through his wet hair and apologised again.

"It's okay Alec. You were angry. I understand."

"No, Magnus, there was no excuse. I could have killed you. I hurt you and I didn't care." I said, trying to make him see the seriousness of this. He needed to stop being so calm and nice.

"Why did you want me angry?" He asked, capturing my hand in his.

"I needed you to hurt me, to make me feel bad. I need it. It's the only thing that keeps me going."

"What?"

"I accept it, this thing that's happened to me, the feelings I have for you, but that doesn't mean I like it. Every day I just hate myself. I want that pain, the feeling when we fuck. That's when you don't care, you just do it, you just hurt me." He leaned forward and captured my lips in a soft kiss. I pulled way, pushing him away with hands on his chest. "No. I can't. You should hate me."

"I don't hate you. I love you. I always will." He said, placing a hand softly on my face.

"I don't deserve it." I said, frowning.

"So?" He asked, before kissing me again.

The kiss was deeper, more passionate, but never hard, never painful. He stood using his thin arms to pull me up with him. As his tongue slipped into my mouth I moaned, the feeling making my blood rush to my crotch. By now we were standing, and he had me against his body, his arms running up and down my back.

I ran a hand up under his blood stained shirt, feeling the familiar smooth skin shiver under my hands. He slid his hands gently down my sides until they were resting on my hips, where they pulled my lower body closer to him. I groaned as his erection rubbed against mine, and he echoed the sound. As his hands moved to cup my but I kicked my legs around his waist, not once breaking the kiss. He held me up, although my muscled legs could probably have done the job fine themselves.

He walked towards the bedroom, my hands still rubbing the skin under his shirt. I want to remove it, to see the perfect tanned chest, but his arms don't move from my legs. My eyes are closed by now, and I don't see that we've reached his bedroom until he places me on his soft bed. I sink into the mattress, and he disconnects the kiss with an audible pop. I open my eyes to see his standing above the bed, his eyes troubled.

On most nights he wouldn't hesitate, by now I'd have been on my hands and knees, being fucked so hard I thought I would break. It had been like that for a while. There was no love in our sex, we never 'made love', we just fucked. No matter what some might say, they weren't the same thing. The night after that fight with Lilith, then we made love. It was gentle, soft, and wonderful. But that was so long ago. I couldn't remember a time since when I hadn't hated this, when I hadn't needed the fucking as a release.

"Do you love me Alec?" He asked. I didn't understand.

"Of course Magnus. I love you, I always have."

"Then why do you hate this?" He asked, still standing at the foot of the bed. It was then I realised I had said that last thought aloud.

"I just, I hate being like this. I shouldn't be." Shit, I completely just killed the mood. Or so I thought until he leaned in and kissed me.

"It's who you are Alec. I will make you like it. No more hard, no more hurting. I will show that this love can be a good thing." He said, running a hand again down my side, bringing a shiver up from my toes.

He kissed me again, as he played with the hem of my shirt. I could feel him pressing on the inside of my thigh, and my hips bucked in anticipation. He pulled the still wet shirt over my head before doing the same to his own. By now he was kneeling in between my legs, and in the dim moonlight I could make out the amazing smooth planes of his hairless chest, of his belly-button less stomach. I sat up and kissed his chest drawing a breathy moan from my lover. I ran a hand over his ass, while my other played with one of his nipples.

I felt one of his hands press against my shoulder pushing me back to be lying again, although I knew he had been enjoying that. He kissed my neck, once, soft as butterfly wings and slowly travelled down my bare chest, drawing gasps and moans from my throat as the kisses neared my nipples. His long fingers ran down my chest before his lips, and they slowly danced across my waist band.

I groaned as his long tongue dipped into my navel and I wound my fingers through his hair. I looked down and saw him capture my zip in his teeth, and he pulled it down painfully slow, while his hands ran over my nipples. As he pulled down my jeans and boxers in one swift movement I sighed with the relief of my erection springing free.

He came back up to kiss me again, grinding his jeans into my hardness. I rid him of his constricting jeans with trembling hands, how is it possible that this still makes me nervous after so many times? The way his hardness felt rubbing up against mine made me moan over and over again.

I felt an arm travel around under my hips and lift them off the bed, as his other fumbled with a bottle of lube. We didn't usually use it, for my beggings of making it harder, and making it hurt, but tonight he seemed determined to make it easy. He rubbed the liquid onto 3 of his fingers, and ran them back up my ass. I moaned in anticipation as one finger ran over my hole and I jerked my hips down, trying to get him to enter me.

He slipped one finger slowly in, and my breath began to come out in pants. He let me get used to the intrusion before he began moving it in and out slowly. I don't know how long he did that for, but soon it frustrated me. I hated preparation. He slipped the other two in one by one, scissoring around, brushing softly on my sweet spot. My hips bucked up into the air, and I cried out.

"Fuck, just do it already Magnus. I need it. Please." When I said this he pulled his fingers out and began to prep himself, rubbing the lube over his cock. I got harder, if that was possible, as I saw him rubbing it over himself.

He places his dick at my hole, not entering yet. He leaned down and kissed the soft spot behind my ear, and began to suck. I knew it was an attempt to distract me, but the intruding feeling of his cock entering my tight hole was too painful to ignore. He stayed still for a few moments, running his tongue down my neck.

"Move already." I demanded, attempting to fuck myself on his dick by dropping my hips. He pulled out, all but the head leaving my hole, before thrusting back in, going balls deep. He thrust slowly and softly, not wanting to hurt me, but frustrating me in the process. "Magnus please, go harder." He thrust harder, but still not enough to satisfy me. "Harder!" I yelled, falling back into old painful habits.

He thrust once, extremely hard, hitting my prostate with full force.

"Fuck Magnus," I screamed. I could hear his moans and growls coming from above me, making the pleasure even better.

"Oh god Alec," I heard him pant out as one of his hands encircled my aching member. "I'm so close. Cum with me," He pumped me, pumping my cock in time with the thrusts. My back arched so far that it didn't seem healthy anymore, and I saw stars as he continually hit my sweet spot. He leaned down and kissed me at the same time as pumping and thrusting. The familiar tightening of my stomach told me I was close, and I saw white as I came into his hand. He kept thrusting through my orgasm, drawing it out, his thrusts falling out of time as he emptied his seed into me. I could hear him screaming but I couldn't make out words.

He pulled out of me, and for once it didn't hurt. I was still riding a high as he kissed me repeatedly, murmuring that he loved me. I knew it would happen again, I would get mad, I would hit him in search of release. He knew it too. But as he kissed my bruised lips and whispered how much he cared about me into my ear, I forgot all about the alley.

So, first lemon, whattaya think?

Please review about my Lemon and angst skills.

Loving you all so much,

Mae