Isabelle lowered herself onto Simon's cock, grinding her hips against his, gasping as he filled her. She grabbed his hands, and pulled them up, laying one against her breast, and sticking two fingers of the other into her mouth, sucking them with her eyes closed, rocking back and forth against him. He teased her breast, tugging at her nipple, cupping the smooth curves, squeezing and stroking.

She glanced down at him, her eyes glittering, her chest heaving. She laid her fingers over his, squeezing her own breast with his hand. She gasped, happily, her gaze locked with his. For his part, Simon lay there, feeling his cock shift inside her as her loose, talented hips swayed and ground against his.

"Open your mouth," she commanded, breathlessly. Obediently, Simon did, knowing what was coming. She put a finger against his lips, then inside his mouth, filling his throat and nose with the warm, sweet scent of her. His fangs popped from his gums on instinct, glistening with his venom.

She ran a finger along the sharp point of one, letting it pierce the soft pad of her finger. A drop of blood oozed out, gently, and Simon lapped it with a finger. So little blood served only to whet his appetite, but for Isabelle, the effect was bigger.

His venom was a drug, a brain-altering, euphoria-inducing, toxin. As she felt it flow into her, Isabelle's senses sharpened, and she gasped as the pleasure of his cock stretching her out doubled, then tripled, as her nerves woke up to the enhancing effects of his venom.

With a little scream, she let herself fall against his chest, her face inches from his. She ran her tongue along his fang, heedless of the thin line of blood it drew from her skin, lapping at the venom which glistened along its length. When her eyes met his, they were darker, the pupil's dilated until they almost filled her iris. She snarled, smiled. "Fuck me, Simon."

Locking her legs around his, she pulled him onto her, beside her. His feet found the foot of her bed, braced against it for support, and then, as she commanded, with all the strength and speed of the monster he was, he fucked her, driving his rock-hard cock into her desperate, dripping pussy.

He felt none of the effects of his own venom, but her arousal was contagious, and it was with gasping breaths, and wide, bright eyes that he pounded himself into her, faster than any mortal man could have. Under the bludgeoning of his cock, Isabelle bounced, vibrated, feeling her orgasm approaching faster than she would have believed possible. She was coming, she thought with the last reasoning part of her brain, almost as quickly as a guy. She smiled to herself at that, but then the first wave of pleasure burst against her, and her mind went utterly blank.

Isabelle's first orgasm made her shudder, moan, stab her fingernails into Simon's back, raking across the skin too tough for her to scratch. The next one, following on the heels of the first, made her gasp, her eyes rolling. Almost insensible, she bit into his shoulder, tasting the vanilla flavour of his skin.

Simon didn't stop, didn't slow down, didn't relent his pounding into her. For two minutes, Isabelle experienced consecutive, constant orgasms. She screamed until her throat was raw. Her nipples, pressed against his chest, burned like coals, and her legs went numb and limp. She was a doll in his hands, her mind gone in the waves of incomprehensible pleasure.

Simon came too, three times, each time forcing himself through the orgasm to keep fucking her. It wasn't nearly as uncomfortable now as it would have been before, to keep going through, and he shuddered and moaned at the hot, slippery friction of his cock inside her.

Finally, through the daze of ecstasy, Isabelle feebly pushed at his shoulder, signalling for him to stop, before he fucked her absolutely senseless. Simon, gripped in the throes of his fourth orgasm, hardly felt her hand against his chest, but he saw the movement, and, slowly, decreased his punishing pace until he moved gently in and out of her, and then, eventually, stopped.

For a long, long time, he held her in his arms, feeling the desperate racing of her heart, the pulse at her throat and thigh and temple, the gasping of her breath down a throat raw from screaming. It took everything out of her, when they fucked like this, but Isabelle had never felt a pleasure like it.

Eventually, as the last of her trembling subsided, Isabelle glanced up at him, her eyes bright, and back to their usual, beautiful selves. "Oh Simon," she whispered faintly. "That… I don't even know how to describe it."

He smiled. "It was good for me too," he quipped, keeping a straight face.

She laughed. "Oh, by the Angel…" She rolled away from him, and he realized her body was drenched in sweat, her hair plastered to her forehead. She glittered in the warm light. Stiffly, she sat up, and put her feet over the edge of the bed.

"If your venom wasn't a painkiller," she said, looking at him, "I would not be able to walk, I kid you not."

Simon stood to help her straighten. "Shower?" he offered.

She nodded, resting her head against his neck. "Yes… gently, baby. Gently."

They were in the shower when first Simon's, and then Isabelle's phones received Clary's call. Simon's was off, but Isabelle's lit up, vibrating on the floor where it had been thrown. In the shower, Simon and Isabelle kissed, tenderly, as he washed the sweat from her body. Neither of them heard a thing.

Clary woke up with a start. Jace was bent over her, watching her with concern. Her skin ached across her chest and shoulder, but the burning pain was gone. She glanced up at him, confused.

"I carried you up here," he explained, gesturing around. They seemed to be high up in some abandoned building. The glass in the windows was shattered, and plastic sheeting hung here and there from the ceiling. "I healed you with a rune; the scratches were long, but not too deep."

"I still hurt," Clary said, her voice rough.

Jace nodded. "That'll pass. It's just the ache from the rune, in a moment that'll be gone too."

Even as he spoke, she realized the ache had faded to nothing but a slight itch, and then that too was gone. It was at that point that she realized that her shirt was in tatters, hanging at her sides, and her breasts were naked.

She flushed, and crossed her arms over her chest. For a moment, Jace frowned, confused, still in emergency mode. Then, he registered her action, and chuckled. "Sorry. I was more focused on healing your wounds than protecting your modesty."

She glared at him, but the after-effects of the rune and the adrenaline, and the thrill of the fight and the grogginess of unconsciousness had combined to make her a little hot, a little restless. Fighting a smile, she let her hands drop, watching his eyes as they, too, dropped to her chest, despite an obvious, valiant effort on his part to keep them on her face.

"If it's not embarrassing you, then," she said casually.

Jace looked a little uncertain of himself, not an expression she recognized on his angelic face. "Uh… I thought you might be."

Clary thrilled inwardly, but kept her outward appearance calm. "Me? No… I mean, I was wounded. What does a little nakedness count for against that?" She sat up. "In fact, can you help me take the rest of it off?"

His eyes widened. "The rest of it?"

She nodded. "Yes. Look, my pants are ripped, and this shirt is holding on by a thread. Just strip me down, and then we can call Isabelle and see if she'll get me some more clothes."

She stood up, and, before his wide, disbelieving eyes, stripped out of her pants too, leaving her standing, naked except for a thin white pair of underwear, and the permanent runes on her chest and shoulders. She made an effort to hide the twinge of desire she felt as she watched him register her body, his eyes sweeping slowly up and down her legs, breasts, butt.

More calmly now, he got to his feet, and stood very close to her. "We can call Isabelle, yeah." His voice was a little breathless. "But… maybe not yet?"

Her eyes faltered a little at the intensity in his gaze, but, undaunted, she pressed herself against him, and nodded, slowly, before bending her head up to his kiss.

Meanwhile, on the other side of town, Luke's phone rang. Jocelyn, glancing up from her painting to watch him answer, saw the look of horror, and rage, that passed across his face as he listened.

Replying tersely, he hung up, and looked over at her. "I have to go."

She leapt up and crossed to him, turning his face to hers. "What? What is it?"

Luke's eyes were haunted. "The… someone, one of the pack, they were downtown and saw Jace and Clary, fighting. Fighting an old enemy, someone I thought I killed way back."

Jocelyn's heart leapt. "Are they alright?"

Luke looked at her, and she saw her own fear in his eyes. "I don't know, Jocelyn. He's old, and strong. Jace is a warrior, though, and Clary can look after herself. They've been through worse…"

She mastered her fear. "I'm coming with you."

He met her gaze for a moment, then nodded. "I won't try and stop you."

She glared. "Damn right."

Luke crossed to the door. "We should call the Institute. Do it on the way." He pulled on his boots. Then, he glanced up at her. "What I'm afraid of isn't that he'll kill them. What I'm afraid of is that he's after me, and somehow, somehow he knows that hurting Clary would hurt me."

Jocelyn shook her head, incomprehension plain on her face. "What? Who is he? What happened between you?"

Luke pulled his coat over his shoulders. "I'll tell you on the way. We have to go."