Disclaimer: I do NOT own Mortal Instruments or anything related to it all rights go Cassandra Clare. This is based of the song Ms Jackson by Panic at the disco, Hope ya enjoy!
Mr. Lightwood
Slipping out the back door I never left a mark; no one knew it was me as I stole another victim.
Slouching in bed an almost bitter taste was left in my mouth when he left, for the past while I've felt like his helpless prisoner succumbing to his every wish. The way he would plan his evenings out was like trying to walk in a straight line while going in a circle. He does it for the feel I've learned he doesn't cares for me, us. He stopped caring a long time ago.
Breathing warm air into my frigid hands I thought about how it was almost a nice thing that we had going on, it was so no one got more hurt than they already were; it was, almost perfect.
Flopping back down exhausted a hollow chuckle left my bruised lips; I was warning him over and over that if he didn't back away from the water's edge he was going to drown. But the party never ended for him now did it?
Rolling over to the side I hugged one of my many royal blue pillows, a single thought racing round and round in my head,
"Where will you be waking up tomorrow morning?" Always leaving out the back door, always-keeping secrets, but goddamn it I still love him anyway.
'Why do I love him anyway?'
Well that was a stupid question it's the sparkle in his wild, shining blue eyes, his cute mood swings, the way he'd madly blush at the smallest things.
But why the back door? Why should I even care I'm still desperately in love with him anyway.
"Mr. Lightwood." So formal yet at the same time so casual.
"Mr. Lightwood." Seamlessly professional, but oh so sensual as well.
"Mr. Lightwood." Only a name, but with so much power behind it.
The way he would writher beneath me, but still, the way he would take control. It was all so unlike him how he could be subtly yet vividly dangerous when he wanted to be. How he would choose when he wanted to submit and when he did what a show he put on, his needy whimpers begging me to. How his body would twist in such ways making him radiate lust all the way into his deepened electric blue eyes.
The embodiment of sin was what they did under the cover of night, the moon as their alibi. Rough, quick, and repeatedly was the way he wanted it now, not like before where they could set the mood to anything they wanted. Now there was only one setting, a setting stuck on replay.
The places he went, the people he took, the things he did were so un-Alec like of him to do it almost scared me; the fire in his eyes. The men he had at his command was endless the way he could ruin all of their lives, and easily get away with it, me included.
"Mr. Lightwood." It was a beautiful, yet tragic all at once, the way his name would roll of my lips, now a foreign object still felt like home.
Slipping out the back door I never left a mark; no one knew it was me as I stole another victim.
Just…
"Mr. Lightwood."
The question still stands where will you be waking up tomorrow morning because goddamn it you may slip out the back door, but I love you anyway.