This fiction story is based on a specific line from 'The City of Glass'. It takes place midway through the story, around when he was staying with the Lightwoods in the city.
"I should want to protect you from the sort of boys who want to do with you exactly what I want to do." -Jace We-won't-say-his-last-name! Locations 3093-3096 on Kindle e-reader.
This line made me wonder. What exactly had he wanted to do? Well, this:
Jace relaxed under the scorching water that felt like pellets against his skin. He had thought a shower would help clear his head. In reality, it had only made things worse.
His muscles may have been smoothed out and physically he felt much better. But what about Clary? He always thought of her. He had given up trying to make it seem like he was manly when it came to her. He didn't care about his pride anymore.
He slammed his hand against the tile of the shower (effectively hurting his other hand), grunting as blood started to swirl down the drain. If he could shed tears, he would.
He couldn't though.
He was not weak.
He was strong, strong enough to fight what he felt.
He knew that she felt strongly for him, more strongly than she felt for anyone else.
Jace couldn't deny that he had felt the same way back. He had been so cruel to her… Why had he done it? Was he evil? Did he enjoy seeing her heart melt before him?
No.
He loved her. He had conflicted personality traits that wanted him to embrace her, and at the same time kill himself for even thinking about touching her the way a man touched a woman.
His breath hitched.
She was a woman… He knew what a woman was.
Lord, he wished that he could have her the way a man had a woman.
Jace wouldn't do that to her.
He had already done too much, soiled her beauty with the dirt of his seed, which had come from him pitifully in a sinful pleasure which he could not turn his back from. It had called to him, beckoned for him to come forward and reenact the acts which had become a regular for him.
It was ironic, he thought, that woman hung on him but the one woman he wanted he could never have in that way.
He knew he had her heart… but for how long? What was he supposed to do, as they got older? Watch as she got married to someone else, had his children… made love to him?
He would die on the inside if he had to see that. He would die in every way.
He couldn't resist anymore. He did not have the willpower to fight the urges that coursed through his veins with an urgency that could never be avoided.
His newly injured hand left the wall, sliding slowly towards his body.
He imaged Clary… only Clary.
Clary stood before him with her red hair swaying in an invisible breeze. Her narrow hips had nothing but an unfamiliar pair of red lace panties. She was wearing his shirt; a white button-up that he had worn many times… His shirt (on her) was half-unbuttoned. Exposed was a small nub of flesh, which he realized were her hardened nipples. Her breasts were not particularly large (quite small really) but that didn't matter to him… the sight of her in such a delicate position made him stiff.
She was somewhat pigeon-toed and shy as she waddled to him; her beautiful crystalline eyes looked away as a red color stained her cheeks.
"I've never done this before," she whispered to him, coming close enough to him to kiss, "But I think I can do it…" He sighed as her fingers climbed over his nude chest and towards his center.
Her innocence was bright as she carefully touched him.
"Do not be frightened, Clary… It is perfectly fine to touch me."
"But we're-" she started as she looked into his eyes with shock.
"It does not matter. It is okay." He shook his head before gently bring her hand towards his erection. He guided her hand to his shaft where he helped her to squeeze lightly with curiosity.
"Clary," he groaned with satisfaction.
She continued to explore, until she firmly grabbed him, and used her gentle hands to make friction between her palms and his member.
He felt his eyes roll back into his head showing only the whites as he groaned in pure pleasure.
"I'm… I'm going to… to… Oh! Lord!" His soul lifted high and his body lifted in ways he could never imagine, flying him over a cliff towards his release--
Leaving him ashamed in the shower as his fluids fell to the shower floor. He could feel himself hardening again and turned the previously hot water ice cold.
He didn't know why he had done it again. He had told himself not to do it. He hated the feeling of staining her purity with his hands.
He loved her… She was an angel to him, and he- he was everything but.
He had them though, just like every other person in the world.
He was a warrior, superior in every aspect.
Yet he had let it overcome him.
Urges.
Thanks for reading! I hope you enjoyed it. I'm new to this category, but not to FF. Please treat me kindly because I hope to stay!