Sorry for my misquote in my previous chapter; Of course the book I meant to refer to was City of Heavenly Fire. Mea Culpa. I will be more careful in the future.

Onwards we go then; the proposal.

Chapter Two

It wasn't that I'd never seen Jace without his clothes on before; in fact I saw him without a shirt quite a bit as he did his weight training, and there was certainly no shyness between us, not any longer. I had grown accustomed to the rune scars that twined up his arms and across his chest and shoulders. They had become an exquisite painting of who he was, and what he had overcome to survive; even the horrible scar over his heart, which had begun to fade just a little. He'd have it forever, the place where Sebastian had enslaved him. I had never asked how it made him feel, having to look at it. He'd tell me when he was ready, if he was ever ready. I suppose it said something about him and how he was coping, that he never made an attempt to disguise it. It was his scarlet letter, or badge of honor perhaps? But I wasn't concentrating on that just then, it had been awhile since we had been so intimate, and he did look so amazingly good with the mist beading over his chest, accentuating the shadows of his defined musculature. And oh God, it was well-defined musculature. I probably gasped just a little, but I hoped the noise had been lost in the sound of the water pounding against the porcelain of the tub. There was no disguising the pounding of my heart however as he looked at me, almost as if he was asking permission to approach; which of course, he never had to do with me. His expression wasn't neutral, nor was it colored by desperate passions; even if his heart was. It was soft, and thoughtful, lips just parted, chest rising and falling slowly as he stared at me.

"I have missed you so much." He whispered.

"I missed you too."

That was all he needed, taking the two steps between us he pulled me against his body once again, this time nothing between us but water. His arms twisted around my shoulders, hands cupping my neck as he guided my face upwards and brought his own down to meet me, pressing his lips against mine as he tightened his grasp. I had, have, never felt so safe as when he holds me in that way. I can feel the power that hides underneath his skin when I touch him, and kiss him, and taste him as he tastes me when our lips are parted and out tongues dance together. It's like an infusion of energy, a thousand times better than a shot of caffeine because it makes you weak in the knees at the same time as it makes you feel alive. And I gave passions as well as Jace did. I tangled my own fingers into his blond hair, clutching at his upper body with my arms as I did, making sure he wouldn't even think about pulling away from me.

It had been too long.

Even with the difference in our heights our bodies seemed to fit together, standing up, and lying beside each other. And we were quickly moving towards the horizontal portion of the program. Reaching around me Jace shut off the water, then stepped backwards over the edge of the tub, wrapping himself in a large white towel, knotting it over his hips before pulling one out for me, and beckoning me towards its warmth and comfort. He used the edges to pat my hair dry and his careful hands to twist it over my body before he swept me up into his arms and headed back towards the bedroom.

I couldn't do anything but stare into his face as he laid me back on the bed and unfolded the towel that had been covering me. Without looking at himself his own towel was discarded to the floor. (That was unusual for Jace; he kept everything in his room neat, fastidiously neat. Even the clothes he had obviously worn over to my room were folded and placed over the trunk at the end of my bed.) The thought of it only stuck in my brain for a fleeting moment as he laid himself overtop of me, and just let his weight press my body into the soft of the duvet. I held my breath and just 'felt'. Everywhere his skin touched mine I sensed the electricity of us being together, and that was even before he began kissing me again. Jace was really good at kissing. If that was all we ever did I could have died happy; but of course it wasn't, and happy doesn't even begin to describe the rest of it.

Balancing on one forearm he stroked his other hand up my thigh, over my belly and across my breasts, his head bent so that his blond hair fell over his face and just touched my skin, his chest heaving with a practiced control well suited to fighting and love-making. He was far more in control than I was. My hands clutched at his back, pulling him closer to me, my hips arched to press against his, body aching to feel as much of him as I could. Thankfully he didn't laugh at my desperate insistence but instead brought his mouth down to nip at my neck, warm breath raising gooseflesh and pulling moans from deep within my chest. His torture was slowly (deliciously slowly) driving me crazy. Jace seemed to understand this; he could read me so well. Leaving his caresses behind he retrieved a foil packet from the bedside table; where I can only assume he had placed it when he walked in, he showed it to me with a simple smile.

"Yes." I whispered, not finding the strength or presence of mind to formulate a better response. It seemed to do the trick however. His smile broadened, and he turned away from me for a moment to cover himself. When I next felt his touch it was his warm hands along my inner thighs, coaxing me to relax for him. By that time I had closed my eyes, unable to focus both on sight and touch at the same time. Strong muscles banding his legs pressed against me, their weight making me shudder with anticipation. So muchtaller than I, I don't know quite how he managed it, but he kissed me deeply while at the same time sliding himself within me, pulling the cry that escaped from my mouth at his girth within his own chest where it joined the rumble of his satisfaction. Gently, carefully he drove himself forward and then rocked backwards, over and over as I felt my own body tense for him and around him. I nearly felt as if I couldn't breathe, so hard it became to drawn breaths in the midst of what was building. I clung to him, palms pressed to his back, pelvis arched to him, heart pounding in time with his. I could feel the tension in his fists as he curled them around the bedclothes beneath us, as the taut cords ran up his arms and his head fell backwards.

"I love you Clary." He gasped, leaving me no time to reply as he released himself to me, and I did the same for him.

He fell to the mattress, pulling my body to his side as he did so that he would not crush me, and I tucked my head against his still heaving chest, feeling his arm wrap around me, pulling me even closer. Resting his face against the top of my head, I could feel the warmth of his breath and the tiny kisses he laid there. We lay like that, breathing slowly, letting the wave wash over our skin for a good many minutes, eyes closed, just enjoying the fact that we were together. When my breathing finally began to settle I let my free hand move from where it had been resting atop my chest to his hip, from whence I let my fingers explore the channels there, his pleasure at the touch displayed by the soft moans and drawn out sighs that slipped from between his lips. Only when those fingers began to caress towards more sensitive places did he speak.

"Oh Clary," A deep breath. "I don't want you to stop, but if you keep going I don't know if I'll be able to control myself. I only brought one." He stuttered and stopped speaking as I reached my ultimate destination and drew my hand lightly over the length of him. Whether it was under conscious control or not he pushed his hips closer to my hand, urging me to continue in defiance of what he had just begged me to stop.

"In the bedside table." I whispered as my confidence enabled me to stroke him a little more firmly. He had not been the only one hoping that we would be able to eek out some time to ourselves somehow. I could feel the broad grin that graced his beautiful face, still pressed to my skin.

"You are amazing." He replied, reaching over me to retrieve the box. "I'm going to marry you you know, the day you turn eighteen. No, wait, the day after you turn eighteen because you deserve two parties and I don't want to spoil your birthday one." He began to laugh.

"You know," I countered, "If you intend to marry me, don't you think you had better ask me first? I might not accept after all." I let myself join in the lightness of his laughter.

"Quite right." He put a very serious pout on his lips and pursed them together even as his eyes continued to gleam at me. And flinging himself nearly off the bed he got down on one knee beside me, grabbed up my hand in the most ridiculous flourish and brought it to his chest.

"Clary Fray," He began, "Would you make me the happiest man on earth by agreeing to be my wife." I couldn't see how he had even got the words out and kept a straight face at the same time. I made a show of looking him over; and seeing as how we were both still naked, I paused at a few places, as if evaluating him. Then I bit my lip and looked right into those eyes that had caught me at the very first sight I'd had of him, back in the club. My body trembled at the very depth of them and I paused.

"Are you serious Jace?" I whispered. I watched him take a few breaths.

"I am." He nodded, matching my whisper.

"Then yes Jace, yes, I'll marry you."

He had me swept up in his arms again so quickly I felt dizzy; but it was a blissful lightheadedness that I would not have traded for anything else just then. I knew what love was, and relief, and passion, but that, that was pure happiness, and it was the best feeling in the world.

We missed dinner, but that was okay, Isabelle was trying out a new chili recipe, and the leftover pizza was just fine a few hours later.