Hello, lovelies! Thought I'd get this up before the first round of midterms struck! So here you go! Sorry for any errors, it is not edited because I wanted to get it up.
Clary pushed the wet curls from her face, feeling her cool fingertips against her flushed face. Jace was leaned over a dresser drawer, searching for clothes to cover her small frame as she sat wrapped in a handmade quilt, memorizing the boy before her. His back muscles were taut as he searched and stretched, flexing fluidly beneath the surface of his scarred tan skin. It was so majestic, the way on muscle would contract as the other relaxed in perfect synchronization, the way the marks covering his golden flesh moved with them, as if they were one solid being rather than several layers. Clary had barely taken notice to the intricate black ink swirling across his golden flesh, disguising the scars in its blackness as it curled under onto his chest. She'd known he had scars. She'd felt them beneath her fingertips before in fleeing brushes of skin, caught sight of them in brief moments of moonlight, but not until this morning had she noticed the full extent of what they were.
As he'd rushed to cradle her shivering body, she'd seen the angry red lies captured within the dark swirls coating his skin, hidden in shame. There were hundreds of them, no two alike in length, thickness, or shape. Some were still red, while others had faded to purple or white. So many times she'd wanted to trace them with her fingers, to memorize the map of his past cut into his skin, but something about the way he carried them stopped her. They seemed not to be the scars of a heroic survival story, nor that of a humbling snowmobile crash. They seemed to be so much more than that. A source of his constant pain and suffering, a beacon that radiated the angst he felt inside. They were something so personal that he always covered them, wearing several shirts at a time, always holding the undershirt down over his stomach as he pulled the hoodie over his head. He was so confident and cocky, yet he only bared his body in the privacy of his bedroom, in the dark covering of night, in the intimacy of the moment when they were both too caught up in the feeling to notice anything. Yet he still managed to cringe lightly whenever she touched them. Even in the height of their emotions, he always shied away from any touch to his rough skin. As much as she longed to grip his back muscles, she'd taken to fisting the sheets, hoping to comfort any self-consciousness he felt.
Surely he'd seen her scars before, the angry horizontal lines that told no story at all, only portrayed the complete and utter worthlessness she'd once believed herself to be. Sebastian made her feel that way, like she was nothing, like the only purpose she had was to waist oxygen and get him off. But her friends took that feeling away. They needed her, wanted her, loved her, and the serene and amazed look in Jace's eyes as he lay her naked body on the bed at night told her that everything she'd once thought had been a lie. Her scars told no story. They were merely a sign of her recent triumph, of overcoming who she once was to be where she was today. She only wished Jace saw his scars that way.
It was captivating to her, to see this perfect angel before her, so raw and expressive as he riped through his drawers, covering the meticulously cleaned floor with wrinkled t-shirt and gym shorts. She felt a ripple go down her spine as she pulled the quilt tighter around her shoulders. The spasm didn't spawn from a chill or shock or fear. It came from the overflow of emotions, bubbling to the surface and spilling over in the form of several gasps as they brought back memories of Sebastian, of those nights he tied her to the bed and tortured her in a sadistic sex game, of those hours she spent covering up bruises around her eyes, of the razor blade she sought release from. All thoughts of Jace's scars were driven away as she fell into those soulless black eyes.
"Clary," Jace said, his face inches from hers as he brought his fingers up to caress her cheek. She forced herself to focus on his calloused fingertips as his thumb brushed her cheek, reveling in the warmth, memorizing the path it traced against her skin. Real, she had to remind herself as Jace's golden eyes found hers in the darkness of her past, radiant as the sun, lighting her path back to the present. Her shoulders heaved in relief as her mind withdrew from the images of Sebastian's contorted face. Jace is real. As if to solidify her point, the bed jostled lightly as he sat down beside her, resting a heavy arm on her shoulders and pulling her tightly into his side. His hand fell to her arm, moving up and down to create a warmth he thought she needed. Really, as long as he was beside her, everything was fine. She wondered, momentarily, what he thought of her scars. She knew what she believed of the horizontal markings marring the easily hidden places of her skin, but the thought hadn't crossed her mind as to what Jace thought of them. Was he disgusted by her weakness? By the unfemininity of her marked skin? She shook her head, breathing in the scent emanating off Jace's chest, a distinct and comforting aroma that could only be associated with Jace, with the sunshine of his eyes and the halo of his hair. She felt his fingers tangle into her curls, gently massaging the skin of her scalp. "Are you going to tell me what happened in there?" Her head lolled to the side, as she let his fingers trace patterns on her skin.
"I was overwhelmed," she admitted finally, not able to meet his eyes, "of Sebastian." She saw his reflection in the mirror across the room as his face fell into an expression of pure remorse. He looked at a loss as his mouth opened, no sound coming fro his lips.
"I'm sorry," he breathed finally, his fingers having long ago stilled against her head. "I didn't know how carried away I was getting." Clary squeezed her eyes shut at his genuine apologetic tone. He thought it was his fault. He thought that he treated her the same way Sebastian had, and only because she'd told him as much.
"Jace…" she began, trailing off before she even started. What if Jace hadn't meant what he said? What if he still wanted this to be no strings attached? What if he laughed at her for wanting to share such an intimate part of herself with him? Sure, physically she'd bared every inch of her skin to his appreciative eyes, but emotionally she'd never given herself completely to someone, not even Isabelle or Simon. Not her mother. Nobody. For some reason, though, she knew it had to be him. The silence of her internal debate was killing him as she rested her chin against his chest. He looked down at her through golden lashes, a look of mixed angst and compassion filling his tortured eyes as his fingers continued to knead her skin. Jace, for all his faults and shortcomings, had somehow won her trust, given her faith in herself once again. She had to tell him about her past, or she'd never get it out to anyone. "I just…" she sighed deeply, burying her face into his warm skin. He had to know that she was damaged, that she was cracked and held together by only one thread threatening to break at any moment. But he also had to know that she was working on weaving the cracks with twine, that she was progressing forward with every minute spent by his side. He deserved to know. "You are incomparable to Sebastian. You have so much more compassion and kindness in your soul. There's never been one inch of my being that has regretted what we have done." She blew a drying curl from her face, following it with a heavy sigh. "I want you to know about me…about my life…my past, I mean." His molten gaze was so full of concern as he pulled her onto his lap, peppering her cheeks with dozens of kisses. "I mean, if you want to. I know we said we wouldn't be anything, not even friends really, but I don't think—" He silenced her with a soft kiss to the lips, his signature smirk playing on his lips as her eyes dazedly fluttered open.
"I told you, Clary. From the very moment I saw you, there have been strings attached. I'd love to learn about you, know your past and share that burden you keep on your shoulders." That was all the prompting she needed to open herself to him, to bare her soul the way she'd never done before. There was this piece of herself that she'd always kept hidden from the outside world, a small part just for her so that in case every single inch of her being was broken, she'd still have one untarnished portion to rely on, an insurance of sorts so that she may yet exist after all the pain. Yet she found herself giving that to Jace, too, amongst the broken chips of the life she'd once had.
She told him first of her days as a ballerina, nights spent in pink tights that clashed with her red bun as she practiced her pliés in front of the mirrored wall in her parents' bathroom. Her shortness and clumsiness had driven her immediately from that art. She then told him of the first time her father had plopped her onto a sled, a little 120 of her very own, black with blue and purple stripes. She told him how she'd spent hours zipping around a little track her father had plowed for her in the yard, somehow leaving the clumsiness for her terrestrial self and stepping into a life of gracefulness every time she punched the throttle. She expressed the way racing made her feel, the exhilaration that found a home in her bones as she soared through the air, the numbness to pain she'd developed after becoming disconnected from the sled so many times and tumbling through the powdered snow.
She told him of her college days, and his eyes were soft at the mention of his sister, filling with laughter as she told the story of their first meeting in the shopping mall when Izzy had insisted she give Clary a complete makeover. Clary would never understand how she'd allowed a complete stranger to spend her entire paycheck, but she didn't really mind either.
There was a hard look on his face as she waded into the foreign waters, Sebastian's name a repetitive constant in this story. She told him about how Seb was at first, how he'd seduced her by being the perfect gentleman, how she'd thought she'd fallen for Prince Charming. She slowly eased into what he'd put her through, focusing on broad topics rather than explicit details. "The first time, I wasn't ready." It was vivid in her mind, how she'd slaved for hours trying to tame her messy curls, how she'd endured hours in the corset of her golden dress, how she'd sat in the shadows of the room while Sebastian guzzled punch and refused to dance with her. "He took me to his car in the middle of the dance and held me down. He told me that it was the next step of our relationships, that if I didn't do this with him he'd just find someone else who would. I was so naïve. I so wanted Sebastian to be the man of my dreams that I ignored every place he fell short." Jace's hands were clenched into fists as she pressed forward, stating that as she went to college and graduated it slowed down, only happening on race nights after tough losses to Jace.
Jace seemed to be hyperventilating enough just knowing that Sebastian had been forcing himself on her for years, that the entire time he was only a few trailers away and could have prevented it. "I'm going to kill that fucker," he growled, moving to get up, but Clary had to yank him back down. She had more to tell him. He looked at her incredulously. "It was my fault, Clary. Had I just let the damn bastard win, he wouldn't have done that shit to you."
Clary shook her head slowly. "He'd have done it anyway, Jace. Victory or loss, it didn't really matter." Jace's jaw was locked, but he didn't say anything more. She charged forward once more. She told him about her scars, how the pain had made her feel something other than the pain inflicted by Sebastian, how she enjoyed watching herself bleed because at least she knew she was alive yet.
"Clary," Jace breathed as she concluded her life story, his arms winding their way around her small body. "You are much too beautiful to have been carrying that weight around with you all these years." Clary merely shrugged, snuggling deeper into his embrace, all attempts at getting dressed lost in the midst of the moment. Jace shook his head, his golden curls falling into his eyes as he looked at her, a foreign softness adorning his edges. "You know, my whole life I've felt like I've been floundering, resurfacing for a mere gasp of air before drowning again." He exhaled heavily, as if he were forcing a laugh at a painful inside joke he shared with his own mind. "My father taught me many things, lessons that have been literally carved into my flesh, reminding me of who I am, where I come from."
"Is that why you cover them up?" she couldn't help herself. Clary couldn't help herself. It was the first time he'd brought up the scars. She wondered why he seemed so ashamed of them, of something that made him look so strong and ferocious, of something that made him more beautiful in her eyes.
"I don't want to be a Herondale," he growled with an anger not directed at Clary. "Everyone tip-toes around me like I might become a murderous bastard at any moment, like one moment I'll decide it's time and bury an entire civilization." His eyes were dancing with anger as he twisted his fingers into his own hair, yanking at the ends. "I cover them up because I'm afraid that I'll become like him, that some day I'll wake up and be my father." Clary had never seen him this raw before, so lost and broken as he whispered his fears into the sunny space between them.
"Only you can decide what to be, Jace. No matter what your father did, you are someone else entirely." Silence settled between them as her words hung in the air. She rested her hand lightly on his back, feeling that he needed to be touched but not smothered, to know someone was there but to not feel weak.
"Why don't you race again if it made you feel so alive?" The question caught her off guard as he turned to her, the sadness gone from his features and replaced with a bright curiosity. Sure, she missed it sometimes, but she'd never really considered of rejoining. Ever since she'd seen what rivalry turned Sebastian into, she'd become slightly repulsed at any idea of competition. She didn't even own a sled anymore, not with the tiny apartment she shared with Isabelle. What class would she even be in? Pro Am Women? They were crazy good, and she was nobody.
"Stop cutting yourself down," Jace said as if reading her mind. "You know, I saw you ride once." Clary's body stiffened. That comment was also unexpected. She hadn't hit a snocross track since before her high school graduation…unless… "It was at one of my races this year." Ah, the night Sebastian ran away with another women, or should she say…one of the nights. Jace got a faraway look in his eyes, as if remembering something of great relevance to his life. "I was just sitting on the bleachers, staring out at the track as the snow fell down, and out of nowhere you soar through the air, your crazy red curls flying behind you." He ruffled her hair a bit before laying their bodies onto the bed, her cold toes slipped between his warm legs as he smiled. "It was like an inescapable force pulled us together. It was captivating, the way you ride. It's the way I imagine the way I look out there…only more masculine…and sexy." She slapped his arm, earning a chuckle. "I never imagined the women on that sled would be someone like you." She didn't know how to take that statement until he elaborated. "On that sled, you seemed otherworldly, unattainable even, like I could see you but could never get to hold you, to touch you." He ran the back of his hand down her cheek. "Then you sauntered into that bar with you snocross knowledge, and that was it. As I started to know you, it was even more miraculous than the way you ride. Clary, you are by far the strongest person I've met, and I've known people that have been landed on by hundreds of pounds of machinery. You've been hurt yet somehow find it in yourself to trust, to forgive, and to love." He shook his head lightly. His hand found its way into his golden mop again as he squeezed his eyes shut. "I don't know where this is going, Clary, but I know one thing," he peeked at her through squinted eyes, his eyelashes casting shadows down his cheekbones. "I don't want to share you anymore. I want to be the only one to get to do this," he breathes, leaning in to press a kiss to her forehead. "And this," to her nose, "and this," to both her closed eyelids, "and most definitely this." His lips descended agonizingly slowly on hers, but once they finally touched, it was like the floodgates had been opened. The pain and agony she'd suffered over the last few years seeped into one kiss, morphing into the passion she'd only felt for Jace. She felt as if she were being released from chains. Someone knew about her, everything about her, and didn't see her as broken. Jace thought she was strong. She let out a shaky breath as they pulled apart.
"I want that, too, Jace. I want all your arrogance and humor and cockiness—" he feigned offence as she laughed and continued, "and sexy body—" he approved with a quiet that's better as she pressed forward "—and your encouragement and compassion. That's all mine." The smile on his face was as radiant as a million burning suns as he leaned in and kissed her once more.
Holla at a girl! Review? Also, anyone got any sexy Clace fiction to read? HMU! :)
All My Love
~BallinBlonde21
