So, this is my first Clare/Fitz story. I haven't been able to follow the show lately; Grad school has been inconveniently in the way. So, if I missed the mark with this one, I apologize in advance :)

Chapter One

I rolled my eyes and answered the phone for what seemed like the 20th time in the past hour. "What Eli?" I sighed. I just wanted five minutes to myself to enjoy the brooding storm that so perfectly matched my current mood.

"What are you doing?" He practically barked in my ear. This overbearing Neanderthal act was getting old and didn't suit him whatsoever.

"The same thing I was doing every other time you called me." I rubbed my hand over my face and inwardly groaned. I felt like screaming.

"Clare, what is your problem?" He sounded anxious, like he was about to snap any second.

"My problem.." I started to go off on a tangent, but a knock at the door that was appropriately followed by a loud boom of thunder cut me off. "Eli, I have to go. Someone's at the door. I'll call you when I'm not busy." I heard his protests and inquiries of who was at my door, but I didn't bother to acknowledge that I had. Instead, I clicked off the phone and swung open the front door.

What I saw had so many conflicting feelings zinging throughout my body. Fear, concern, lust.

Lust?

It was Fitz; he had a deep gash under his eye. He was soaked to the bone and undeniably sexy. I didn't want to think that way about him. It just happened.

"Clare." All he said was my name. His voice was hoarse and I could see his hands shaking slightly from the damp clothes against his rough skin.

"Fitz, what…what are you…" he took a step forward, standing only a few inches away from me. His cologne infiltrated my nostrils and a thrill scorched from my nipples, down my stomach and permeated in my hips. No one had ever had that effect on me. I had to gain my control back. I should be afraid of him. I should have screamed, run away, called Eli. But I didn't. Instead, I took a few steps back and allowed him to come in. He shut the door behind him and another loud burst of thunder boomed. I flinched, not from him, but the storm.

"I had to see you." He walked toward me. He was the predator now, and I was what he was after. Why, I wasn't sure.

"You really shouldn't be here." I backed up through the living room and toward the staircase. "I think you should leave." I shuddered because it was a lie. I didn't want him to leave. I wanted to know why he was here, why he had to see me, why his face was all banged up.

"You're the only thing that makes my miserable life feel better." He gripped my wrist when I stepped up on the bottom step leading to the upstairs. "I need you. Give me what I need Clare." Before I could protest, his mouth was crashing down on mine and despite my surprised attempts to pull away, he was stronger.

I shoved my hands against his chest and attempted to push him away. He grunted and gripped my shapely thighs with his work roughened hands. Unlike Eli, this in-control, aggressive attitude fit him perfectly. I felt light headed and I reveled in this out of control feeling. I should have kicked him, punched him, done something, but I didn't. I resisted, but not like I should have. Not like I would have if it had been any other guy.

"Please." The word rolled off of his lips in a sensual groan as he hoisted me up to wrap my thighs around his chiseled hips. His hands moved to my ass and pulled me roughly against his hardness. No one had touched me so intimately and I should have felt guilty. I should have screamed, cried, and threatened him. But I'd lost my voice, I'd lost my mind. All I could see, feel, or think about was one boy I should stay so far away from.

Before I knew it, we were in my bedroom, in my bed. He was on top of me and his greedy hands were all over my body. He pulled my shirt off first; his lips were hot and needy against the soft skin of my neck. I gasped as his chilled, rain soaked sweat shirt pressed against my bare skin. He pulled away to take his shirt off. I should have run away, I should have picked something up and thrown it at him. But I just laid there, watching him yank his sweatshirt off, followed by his undershirt. His wet jeans clung to his hips and his need for me was evident. I focused on his chest and I gasped when I saw the large bruise that covered the entire expanse of his left side.

"W-what happened?" I should have been concerned with what he was clearly intending to do with me. Instead, my heart broke for him. I wanted to make him feel better; I wanted to caress his chilled skin. I wanted him.

"Step brother." He grunted and shoved his jeans to the floor. "He beats up on me."

"Why?" I started to sit up, but in one swift motion he was on top of me, yanking my jeans down and tossing them to the floor.

"Doesn't matter," He was rough when he ripped my bra from my body. "talking about it won't change reality." He was too focused on me to speak in complete sentences. His mouth found my nipple and I nearly shot up off the bed. I'd never felt anything so wonderful. My hands raked through his hair and pulled his mouth closer to my chest.

While his mouth sucked greedily, his hands worked on yanking my panties from my hips. I was suddenly acutely aware that he'd shed his boxers at some point while his mouth had been working sinfully at my chest.

He grasped my hands and held them above my head, sinking me deeper into the mattress. I could feel his hardness sliding against my core and I was suddenly fearful. I'd never done this before. I'd never wanted to do this before. His strong hips pressed my thighs further open and I gasped at the feeling.

"Make it go away Clare." His mouth attacked mine and I felt him slide passed my virginal barrier in one swift motion. He swallowed my scream and I felt his entire body shudder from the sensation. The burn was tremendous and my eyes brimmed with tears. He let go of my hands and pulled his lips away from mine long enough to whisper in an agonized voice. "Touch me. Please, Clare."

My hands fell to his back and he began to rhythmically pump inside me. The soreness depleted somewhat, but my thighs trembled from the burning sensation of his thick hardness filling me for the first time.

He picked up his pace as if he were trying to get even closer to me. His hot breath puffed against my ear and I ran my hands down his still rain chilled back and pulled him to me. I wanted to be closer. I could feel his heart thrumming against my chest. He slid his hand into the mass of my curly mane and shifted my head so we were staring into each other's eyes. My name rolled off of his tongue and I felt my lower stomach spasm. "I want you to watch me." I knew what he wanted. I kept my eyes on him when the waves of the most intense orgasm over took my entire body. He let out a rasping groan and slammed deep inside me.

"Fitz." His name was barely more than a moan and encouraged his rough, possessive movements. He pulled all the way out and plunged one last time as deeply as he could. He bit down on my shoulder and rode out the waves of pleasure enrapturing his body.

We laid there for what seemed like hours, panting, clutching each other close. His musky smell was heavenly as was his muscular body weighing me down. I stroked my hands over his shoulders and down his back when he suddenly wrenched away from me. "I thought it would be enough." I was confused; I didn't understand what he meant.

"What?" I suddenly felt vulnerable, scared and alone. I pulled one of the blankets lying at the end of my bed up to cover my nudity.

"I thought it would just take one time." He huffed, pulling his boxers on and then his jeans. "I thought one time would be enough. I thought it would make this feeling go away." He looked so agonized. I wasn't even concerned about what had just happened, how I was feeling. I was focused on him. I'd never had such an intense need to console someone. Someone who obviously didn't want me anywhere near him anymore.

"What feeling Fitz?" His eyes snapped up to meet mine as he slipped his still drenched undershirt over his toned body.

"I've got to go." His voice was cold and I felt like I'd been slapped in the face. I should have been angry. I should have told him to leave and never come back. Instead, I reached out and grabbed his hand. He gasped softly and allowed me to pull him toward the bed, to stand in front of me.

"I'm sorry that he hurt you." I said, my voice shaking. I was careful, afraid he would shove me away. My hand slid gently to his stomach and I lifted his shirt up a few inches. I locked eyes with him for a brief second and then pressed my lips to the darkening bruise covering his ribs. I heard the air rush out of his lungs and one of his hands found the back of my neck as I peppered kisses along his skin. I needed him to know I was there for him. I couldn't understand it myself, but it wasn't a choice. It was an undeniable need.

"Stop it. Just stop it." He pulled my mouth away from him and stumbled backward. "It wasn't supposed to be like this!" I could see the unshed tears pooling in his intense blue eyes.

"Fitz please…" I should have been glad he was leaving. I should have wanted Eli to console me, but all I wanted was the boy standing before me.

He rushed to my door and turned back only once. His eyes were so sad I nearly started crying. He pulled the door shut, it was his way of telling me he didn't want me to follow him. I sunk back in my bed and stared at the ceiling.

I should have been ashamed. I should have regretted every moment of what just happened. I should have hated myself and the boy who'd made me lose control.

Instead, I burrowed in the comfort of my bed and closed my eyes. My thoughts weren't on Eli or the purity ring that was no longer appropriate to wear. My thoughts were on Mark Fitzgerald.

He was the only boy worth giving up everything that I should have done.