Debra Williams: She hasn't forgotten, don't worry, but Sebastian's not Sebastian if he doesn't know how to manipulate and play mind games with people.
Also guys: Should the M rated story be a sequel or its own thing?
"I'm bored," Clary complained, while they waited for class to start.
"Okay," Simon acquiesced. "Six word sad stories."
Clary grinned. "I never saw his face again."
"She's dead and it's my fault." Simon returned.
"She left and I did nothing."
"You're son died a hero, ma'am."
"Damn Si, that's a good one! Um…I cheated on you. Forgive me."
"Not bad Fray," he allowed, clucking his tongue. "There is nothing more to say."
She bit her lip thoughtfully. "I'm sorry just isn't good enough."
"We just don't work. I'm sorry."
"I really did love you. Goodbye."
A new voice interrupted. "If you two are quite done being the next-generation Hemingways?"
"Yes, ma'am." Simon said hurriedly as both participants blushed red.
"And baby shoes still wins, guys." Clary held back a giggle—that had been six words. "Though a point of extra credit to Mr. Lewis for the second best six word sad story ever."
"But this is math," Kaelie complained loudly and with slight confusion.
That was a pretty good point, Clary had to admit.
After things settled and the lesson commenced Clary found herself getting steadily more nervous. She was going to talk to Sebastian today; to tell him he was forgiven for what happened. And, like Alec had suggested, she was going to tell him what she wanted: to be on good terms—like if there's a pair project in class they pick each other, but they don't hang out or anything.
She had practiced this a million times in the mirror at her house and had finally decided to trust her usual (and poor) method of winging it. How did one go about saying, "We're not getting back together or even friends but I no longer hate and resent your for being an emotionally abusive and occasionally physically violent asshole. Maybe we could be, you know, in-class buddies. What do you say? But if you don't want that, which would be fine, then please have a wonderful life"?
Well actually…
"Hey Sebastian. Can we talk?"
LinebreakLinebreakLinebreakLinebreakLinebreakLinebreakLinebreakLinebreakLine…
"What?" Isabelle screamed. "What do you mean you said he could come to Java Jones with us?!"
"He just looked so sad and…and he actually said, 'I can't just quit you. Please, can we please be friends?' He begged, Izzy."
"Look. I know you are an absolute bleeding heart and I love you for it, I do, but…"
"Hi, guys." Sebastian said, far too meek to be real, although Clary didn't notice. Izzy did, eyes narrowing. She pursed her lips giving a curt and perfunctory nod.
"Hey, Seb." Clary interceded, shooting Izzy a look. "Um, pull up a chair."
It was awkward and uncomfortable for everyone involved but it felt like a step in the right direction; to Clary it felt like they could get back to how they were before, before they had dated, when they were still friends. They could be pals again, maybe. "Hey don't mention this to Jace." Clary mentioned to Sebastian as they got up to leave. "He won't be pleased."
"Does he tell you what to do now?" Sebastian said, though it sounded like he was only mostly joking.
Clary scoffed, "Of course not." Then again, he'd tried, a little voice piped in.
Out of concern, she reminded herself sternly.
And the matter was forgotten.
Until, leaning against the wall on her bed that night, her guilt got the best of her.
"Jace. You're not going to like this. I spoke with Sebastian today and…um, and…"
He eyed her, "You've agreed to be friends with him."
"I…yes."
He forcibly unclenched his jaw. "I don't think that's wise, Ris."
"I know you don't. But I'm doing it and I know what my limits are with him now. And really love, he's only asking to be friends, not eternal bestie-ship."
"It's just that he's said some nasty things to you."
"So have you."
"And he has a violent temper." Jace fought to keep his own temper in check.
"So do you."
"Okay," His jaw worked, "I'll give you that. But I would never hit you, Ris. Ever."
"No." she acknowledged. "But you would put your fist through a wall. Even if it was about three inches from my head. You know you would."
"Fine," he said, exasperated and offended, despite knowing she was right. "Just…be careful. I wish you wouldn't do this." Does he tell you what to do now? "But I know you're going to, and I can't stop you, so just be careful." Of course not.
Why was she even still thinking about what Sebastian had said?
"You worry too much," she informed him, shaking off the thought and swinging around to straddle him as she wrapped her arms around his neck, while his tightened around her waist.
"Just enough," he murmured in disagreement.
Not quite a lemon. But really, really close.
And then he kissed her, hard. Almost immediately her fingers twisted into his hair while his hands slipped under her shirt, feeling the soft skin of her back as his thumbs stroked her sides. This time, it was her to remove the shirt. With that, he kissed her with renewed vigor and she tugged at the hem of his shirt. He complied easily, pulling her flush against him.
Clary was amused that Jace was always so careful. After all, she had dated someone for an entire year and was probably as experienced as (if not more than) Jace. Still, she appreciated it. An unfortunate result of his caution, though, was that sometimes she wanted to be kissed roughly—like she did now—and had to take matters into her own hands. She tugged his hair. His hands had continued to roam up her back and she whispered to him. "I want it off." Then they were skin on skin and it was ecstasy. How could she have ever done anything similar to this with someone else?
So not the time, Clary, she thought to herself. She climbed off him, laying down, and pulled at his hand, indicating he should follow suit. She threw a leg across his hips and pushed herself against him. She could feel what she was doing to him and it made her all the wetter. He gently pushed her onto her back, propping himself on an elbow. Slowly, as if he expected her to stop him, he unbuttoned her jeans. She put a hand on his chest.
"We're not having sex." She said, despite knowing that when she did lose her virginity it would be to Jace, "And I'll feel bad if you make yourself too uncomfortable."
"It'll be worth it," he whispered, his eyes telling her he wasn't lying. His hand slid into her jeans and she closed her eyes in anticipation. When a finger slid inside of her, her back arched off the bed and she moaned. It was a long sound that trailed higher and higher. He vowed to get that noise out of her at least once more and he attempted to with every touch. He slid another finger inside her and his thumb simultaneously played circles, driving her crazy. She whimpered and he tightened his grip on his self-control.
"Fuck. Oh my god, Jace." Having fingers like Chopin's wasn't just good for piano, then.
He leaned down taking the lobe of her ear in his mouth, having read somewhere that that was a hotspot. "Goddamn. I like it when you say my name." He bit her ear lightly and just as she was about to come—screaming his name, he hoped—a better idea hit him and he withdrew his fingers, kissing down her stomach. "Is this okay?" He asked her, his tongue sliding across her waist line.
"Please," she moaned, too incoherent to say anything else. She lifted her hips so he could remove what was left of her clothing. He licked her, precisely where she was aching for him, giving her a grin that promised naughty things and returning his fingers to her body he took her clit in his mouth. She whimpered again and, absolutely needing to give her pleasure and to watch her as he made her come, he increased the speed of his fingers, simultaneously sucking harder. His voice was husky when he spoke. "Come for me, baby."
The instant he flicked her clit with his tongue she did, and as he continued to move his fingers she couldn't stop, simply moaning his name until he was convinced she was satisfied. She hadn't been lying; she felt bad, although maybe a little good, about the state he found himself in. She smirked at him before returning the favor and thanking the universe for the fact that no one else was home.
Not far away—like really, probably thirty steps—Izzy was brooding about Clary's poor life choice.
Sebastian was bad news. They'd all warned her before she started dating him and they'd warned her after he wanted forgiveness. Why hadn't Alec just told Clary to tell Sebastian to piss off, really? Izzy fumed.
And the way he acted when they all met up was far too innocent, too shy, to be the 'real' Sebastian and when he'd made the comment about Jace, which she was certain she wasn't supposed to hear, Clary hadn't been watching him, but Izzy, untrusting, hadn't looked away.
He'd had a look on his face, an odd sort of grin. Izzy thought she'd seen a cat smile like that once.
"I swear, I read this book in seventh grade," Jace bemoaned, rooting around in his bag, ignoring the teacher who asked what William Golding was trying to say with his story. "I mean, everyone read this book in seventh grade."
"Mr. Wayland!" The teacher said. "Don't talk out of turn!"
The student in question finally withdrew his arm, holding the object he'd searched for in the air. "But I'm not talking out of turn, Mr. Starkweather."
Clary blinked. "Did you just?"
"I come prepared." He answered smoothly.
"But…but where did you even get a conch shell?" The teacher asked, flabbergasted.
Jace's lips twitched. "Props are very important tools, sir."
Clary did her level best to hold in a giggle, but it came spilling out, prompting the entire class.
"Do you think that is funny?" The teacher yelled.
"I think that's fairly obvious, sir." Simon deadpanned, the picture of innocence, somehow remaining entirely straight-faced, from the front, sending the class into raucous laughter once more.
