I walk through the kitchen to find Clary slumped over the kitchen counter, looking forlorn, her hair out of place. I don't really want to know why it's like that but, of course, as her friend, I must provide support. Ugh... friendship.

"Hey, Clary."

She runs her fingers through her ringlets a little and turns slowly to look at me. I think it's safe to say she isn't too pleased.

"Oh, hey, Izzy... What you up to?" she sighs.

"Just on my way to go see Simon, what about you?" I prompt.

"Well, stuff was getting pretty great with Jace, we were-"

"NOPE. EW. NO DETAILS PLEASE THAT'S PRACTICALLY MY BROTHER!" I frantically interrupt.

"Okay! Calm! But, yeah, it got... heated, but he had to go so now I'm distraught because I didn't get to finish..." she shrugs. I shudder a little, like, TMI girl.

"Ah, I feel you, but don't look at me; I don't swing that way, sister. Anyway gotta go, babe, in a bit."

"Bye, Izzy."

Walking down the street, I'm grateful for the cool breeze and the summer sun bearing down on me. The heat's a little intense so I shrug my jacket off and let my exposed skin soak up the warmth. I start for a second in panic but then I remember I'm using a glamour. Unfortunately, despite having my shadowhunter characteristics hidden, it appears whatever it is about me that captivates men is not. A guy, maybe in his late twenties to early thirties, nods and winks at me; in response, I choose to raise one eyebrow at him, a silent, "seriously?" and blink heavily. The man looks away in embarrassment. That's got to be one of the very few favourable things about getting male attention when you're not single: the opportunity to shoot pathetic perverts like him down with a single glance. Walking past a bar, I hear what I assume is a very drunken wolf whistle due to the time of day, but I don't even turn to look, just raise my middle fingers behind me and bask in the pleasant, emasculated silence. Don't get me wrong, I know that most men aren't complete jerks but the ones who give me attention tend to be... but I've got Simon and he's hardly like those idiots. Speaking of him, I've got a surprise and I have a hunch he's going to like it. Little does he know, there's an outfit in my bag that I'm fairly sure he'll be very happy to see.

I smile to myself and bite at my lip a little as I knock on his door. I bounce on my toes for a second before he opens it. He grins at me (so cute, like, damn) and pulls me into his arms so I can rest my head on his shoulder, which is covered by one of his favourite Star Wars shirts. I tilt my chin a little and quickly kiss his neck once, sucking very slightly. Panicked, he pulls away and drags me inside, shutting the door and fitting his lips to mine. We kiss, surprisingly passionately, and he begins working his hands under the hem of my top. I like this new Simon but it's time to mess with him again... I pull away, teasingly, and look him straight in the eyes. His are shining, bright with desire.

"Patience..." I purr.

"I don't want to wait..." he whispers in my ear, my neck slightly bent to the left, my body against the wall.

"Shame," I say, and push him lightly off of me, "I'm going to go to the bathroom; you can wait for me in the living room."

"Ughhh, fine." he smiles, and trudges towards the sofa; I walk away too.

For anyone else, I would have found this utterly demeaning and ridiculous. However, for Simon Lewis, it's actually pretty fun. He always looks so bewildered when I misbehave; it's a clear symbol of his inexperience that paints itself right across his pale little face. I never hold his lack of confidence in this area against him, but I do love to play about a bit and take advantage of my control... I never tire of it, directing him and silencing myself, allowing him to experiment freely at times. I never really had girl friends until Clary came along, but I have a feeling my personality would surely have scared them off if I'd had any; either that or I would've got bored of their bullshit and melodrama. I'm just too dominating for most people to handle. Well, except for the kind of guy who like that kind of girl... But Simon doesn't have a choice in loving me; he just can't stop.

I stride slowly, but purposefully, into the room and he tilts his head up at me, his irises consumed by black as he looks me up and down, from head to toe and back again. His eyes wander over the vulnerable skin of my neck and then to my exposed collarbone, covered in faded runes, peeking out from under an oversized t shirt that falls down over one arm. He awkwardly glances over the swell of my chest, and I steadily turn around, craning my neck to look back at him over my shoulder, as my lacy underwear reveals itself from under the hem of the shirt. Finally, he gazes down at my legs, and my feet, covered by black knee-high socks, and slowly returns his attention to my own eyes. I watch, intently, as a bead of blood rolls down his lip when his fangs snap out and I flash a smile of complete deviousness.

I go to turn to face him but find myself suddenly unable to move. In an instant he has caught me from behind and I realise he has locked me in place with an arm clamped across my sternum and another over my stomach. If he'd have breathed at that moment, I would've felt harsh exhalations stir my hair and torture my nerves, but Simon has no need for that. I feel the tips of his fangs dragging slowly down the side of my neck, light enough so as not to pierce the skin but enough to make me gasp and shudder slightly. I can feel the restraint he's exercising in the tension of his body, especially in his arms. He pulls me into him tighter and begins whispering in my ear...

"Don't move again, baby," he says, oddly dominant, "you ought to stay still unless you want mummy or daddy seeing teethmarks... "

"Oh... hehe" I giggle, "Wouldn't want that,"

"No?" he whispers against my skin.

"No..." I gasp again.

But, within a split second, he has slid his fangs into my vein and I let out a loud moan. I feel his grip on me tighten, keeping me firmly in place. In this moment I am completely his; for once, I'm someone's submissive, not the other way around. He's got control of me and he's completely using it to his advantage. He draws them out of my skin, slowly, torturously, so I grasp at his arm and squeeze it hard. He spins me to face him and, instantly, our lips collide and it's all tongue and teeth. Where the fuck did he learn to do this? God only knows what his internet search history is like... Well, whatever his sources, he's good. He furiously gathers me up against his body and his hands drag down my sides until they're hooked under my ass cheeks and my legs are brought up to grip his waist. He carries me towards the wall and pushes me up against it. I can't stop my moans escaping as he kisses down my neck, sliding his tongue all the way back up, nibbling, at my earlobe, being careful, so as not to break the skin. He squeezes, digging his nails into my flesh. I gasp and claw at his back, pulling myself further towards him and he boosts me up a little, walking back to the sofa, where he playfully drops me between the cushions and climbs on top of me. His hand starts to slip away, tracing light circles up the inside of my thigh, almost into my pants and...

"OH MY FUCKING GOD, EW!"

...and who's that at the fucking window? It just has to be Clary...