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CHAPTER EIGHT:

Hallelujah

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Smutty fun ahead. Ye be warned. This story has an M rating for a reason and the FULL NC-17 version is now below. As for songs, I imagined Delicateby Damien Rice for the upcoming scene. I think you'll agree it fits.

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Jace had to be convinced that there was no hurry, which was a complete lie. Magnus insisted he put Clary back down on the bed until they could conjure up another portal into Idris. Simon's had closed up and they had to pack their weapons and whatnot. Ja'id Su had left to confer with others of his kind. If this was truly Sebastian's doing, they needed to research as much as they could about demonic possession and that too would take time. Jace had no choice but to wait.

"Don't worry," said Clary, her head rested on his chest atop Magnus' bed. She traced circles on his shirt, her spirit finally at peace now that he was beside her again. She knew she was just feeding off his energy but she her heart beat regularly and her skin was regaining its color.

She reached up and tried to smooth out his forehead with her fingers, if only to liven the mood of the now empty room. He smiled for the first time in an hour. They hadn't moved from the bed. Even as the others buzzed around them, discussing plans of attack and places Sebastian might be hiding, they did not move. Jace continued to rest on his back, one arm up over his head, with Clary clinging to his side like the leech she'd become. She tried very hard not to think about it. Thinking only got her in trouble.

"I have to worry," he replied softly a minute later. His voice was like a caress, cradling her in the wind from the window. His hands hadn't moved since he positioned her against him. She shivered slightly, her own body reminding her they weren't really alone. They hadn't been alone since Idris.

She shook her head, clearing the cobwebs as much as disagreeing. "No, you don't. We'll talk to Mom and she'll figure it out."

It was easy for her to say. She had a mother who, for the last 16 years, had more or less accounted for her safety. He'd only ever been harmed by his so-called father. He didn't understand her desire to seek help from an adult. Jace didn't really trust adults, not anymore. He wasn't even sure if he could trust Clary anymore. They had no idea the extent of Sebastian's control.

"Yea," he humored her lamely. "Everything will be fine."

She looked up at the ceiling, trying to find what was so fascinating about that particular spot when he had her in bed, alone and skimpily clothed. "Jace," she began hesitantly. "Did you… did you feel what I was doing to you? Do you feel it now?"

He shook his head. Finally! Movement! Alas, it passed quickly and he was still again. "I was a little bit tired. I didn't think anything of it."

It didn't reassure her at all. His voice was dead of emotion. She slapped his chest and he barely flinched. "Jace, talk to me!" she shouted, propping herself up onto her right elbow so she could better look down upon him. "I'm being possessed by my dead brother and using you to fill up the crack in my freakin' soul! What part of that sounds normal? Why can't you see that I've been going out of my mind for the last few months and that I need you?"

He scoffed but still didn't move, except to fold both his hands atop his waist. She swung her leg over his and straddled him. She anchored her arms down beside his head and let her hair fall down, shielding his peripheral view so he could not escape her gaze. She waited, eyebrows raised, expecting an answer.

"You need me? Now you're telling me you need me? How hard was it to say that two months ago?"

Though he didn't raise his voice, she felt the anger bubbling beneath. Jace didn't do hurt. He skipped all that and went straight to anger. It was a cleaner, simpler emotion that granted him great combat skills against many a demonic foe.

"I'm saying it now. Are you really going to hold it over my head for the rest of our lives?" she whispered, lowering her mouth to his. Their lips met but, again, there was no motion from him. They barely made a sound. She hovered over his mouth a second longer, remembering past kisses and what the warmth of his lips had once done to her aching body. "Jace, we're Shadowhunters."

He laughed but there was no humor in his voice. "You think I can ever forget it?"

She raked his hair back soothingly. His eyes rolled back into his head of their own will. She knew he loved this motion from all their days resting on her bed. "No. I mean, look at us. We bring together the Clave and the Downworlders, kill off an army of demons, and here we are again preparing for another fight. It's never going to end, Jace. We're just going to have to keep fighting till it kills us and I couldn't stand it if I died without showing you how much I love you."

He closed his eyes, unable to look at her a second longer. His hand went to her knee and slid up her thigh towards her waist. He settled her forward and continued his exploration up to her breasts neck. He cupped her face, memorizing the swell of her lips with his thumb and the curves of her cheeks with his lips.

Her body slid down atop his, matching up perfectly. He let out a long sigh of relief and kissed her more passionately, his tongue penetrating her mouth and sending jolts of electricity through her body. She gasped but didn't pull away, massaging her own tongue with his until the ardor escaped down his skin into his hands and he found himself pulling her shirt over her head effortlessly.

It forced them to break their contact momentarily and Jace opened his pleading eyes once again. Clary froze before bending back down to continue their kiss. Her first impression was that he'd seen something he didn't like and instantly looked down at herself. She wasn't wearing a horribly embarrassing bra and none of her ribs were jutting out here and there. The other stuff, the scars and bruises, he was used to.

Still, his hands had frozen and his eyes continued to beg for something she didn't know she had. "What is it?" she asked, raking his hair once again. This wasn't how she imagined her first time, in Brooklyn in a strange wizard's bed. She also imagined happiness and warmth, not chilly breezes and even colder stares.

"Are you sure?" he asked, his hands back on her now-bare waist.

She smiled sadly. "I'm scared," she whispered, ashamed as always to show her fear. "I've never—"

He returned her smile and, this time, it did reach his eyes. "Trust me," he murmured into her lips.

"With my life," she replied though it wasn't a question.

He sat her up on his waist and pulled himself up against the headboard. He slid his own sweater and the white shirt he had underneath off in one quick motion. Clary tossed it on the floor beside the bed. His eyes wandered towards his pants zipper but his hands hesitated to undo it. She took the initiative and unbuttoned and unzipped him herself, a wide smile on her face. She tugged at the hem and he lifted his hips so she could strip him completely.

She stole a moment to take in the graceful curves of his bare muscles and thighs and the length of his organ. The blood rose to her cheeks and her chest felt like it'd caught fire. He inspected her face as she hesitated to reach down and trace the thin, white scars all over his body. They reached down below his hipbones. She winced as she traced them with her fingers, biting her bottom lip the lower she went. He watched, terrified she'd scare and ask to stop.

He smiled to himself and reached up to trace her own scars running down her chest. She laughed at his touch. It tickled. The happiness and warmth she'd imagine was slowly creeping into the room, engulfing them. She didn't know why but being like this, basking in each other's nakedness, made her feel stronger as though they were casting the evil spirits out with their intimacy. Then, she realized, it was probably their proximity that was making her overflow with energy.

He was obviously excited now. He locked his eyes on Clary as to steady her. She reached back behind her and unclasped her bra, letting it drop atop his sweater. Then, much less carefully, she slid out of her jeans. She tumbled and fell forward onto his naked body, both laughing and reaching for something to hold still.

She tried to avoid his erection but it was the obvious elephant in the room. He could see how uncomfortable she was and, wrapping himself around her waist, spun so she'd be on the bottom. His smirk and playful eyes told her she'd get her chance at the top soon enough. The sudden gesture made her bite her bottom lip again and he read it as a sign that she liked quick movements, liked being taken with little permission asked or given.

It was the trust, he told himself. She knew he'd never hurt her. He should have known Clary wasn't one for delicate movements. She was blunt and cavalier in everyday life. Why should sex be any different?

He took a deep breath and decided to take the plunge. He forced her legs apart and lifted her knees. He started at her lips and made a trail of kisses down her chest – sloppy, desperate kisses – towards the soft tuft of hair between her legs. He lifted her hips up in the air and buried his face into her rosy sex, licking long and deep and slow. Her knees buckled and her hips shot up higher, urging him further. The sensation was driving her wild. He was too slow. She wanted more, quicker. She wanted him.

Still, she knew this was necessary. This was her first time. They couldn't just jump plunge into the act like brutes. If this was going to be their last chance together, they were going to make it last and they were going to make it good.

As he sucked at her clitoris, his finger found its way into her sex, penetrating her in quick, twisting jabs. Clary didn't realize the moans were coming from her until she covered her own mouth to stop from screaming. Jace laughed and stopped his motion, looking up to catch the look of ecstasy on her reddened cheeks.

"Calm down, Clare," he joked. "I've barely started."

But he did not pull away his hand. Instead of one, he inserted two then three, stretching her as best he could in preparation for his cock. After all, he was bred from the blood of angels. He was a god among men in her eyes, her angel boy with the harsh words and deliciously strong hands. She was going to need a lot of stretching room to be able to fit all of him, or so she thought.

He reached four fingers and she had to reach over for the pillow to smother her cries. His hand reached up her body to her chest, grasping her left breast and kneading. Her hips jutted forward as though by spasm and she trembled, pushing against the bed frame with her feet for balance. The cool sensation under her feet and the gentle licks and sucks on her clitoris threw her over the edge of her plateau.

He waited for her to relax, slowing his motions, but her climax lasted longer than he anticipated. He pulled out of her completely and followed the trail of kisses back up to her neck. Without even thinking, she threw the pillow aside and cupped his face in her palms, bringing her lips to his. Suddenly, she couldn't get enough of the moisture as though she'd been starving all along and had never been told.

Their hands roamed of their own accord, scanning every inch of skin in their path. She clawed her nails into his back and pulled him closer against her, letting this strange beast rising in her chest escape from its cell. They rolled around in a tangle of arms, legs, and lips until Jace could easily reach over to the bedside table into Magnus' condom drawer. It was the top one and was filled with an assortment of colors, flavors, sizes, and textures.

He grabbed one at random and read it over her shoulder. Ribbed and lubricated. Perfect. He sat up a little to unroll it over himself as Clary watched in amazement, making mental notes of how it was done. He turned his attention back to her and caught her inquisitive stare at his cock, biting her lips again. He rolled his eyes. "It's not made of glass, Clary. You can touch it."

She smirked and rolled atop him again, straddling him. She wrapped her fingers around his penis and carefully positioned herself, allowed him to slide within her and fill her slowly to the rim. He helped keep her steady by holding her waist as she moved up and down atop his shaft, throwing her head back. Her spine was on fire but she didn't care about anything above the waist. His thumbs were digging into her hip bones and the pain only urged her to move quicker.

It didn't take long for him to burst himself. Clary felt him draw closer, his penis swelling with her, and looked down to catch his face as he went. He looked like he was in pain, his brow furrowed and jaw clenched. Was it painful for men? It hadn't been for her. She was pretty sure she'd torn a few things down there but there was no sign of blood anywhere. In her current state, she figured she just didn't have any blood to spare.

She went to stop but he only wrapped her in his arms and retook the top, continuing to thrust into her again and again – faster and faster – until she came. Exhausted, she laid limp face up on the bed, staring starry-eyed at the plain ceiling. He pulled out of her and rolled over, falling face down beside her. He surreptitiously reached down and tossed the condom into the waist basket under the bedside table. He had to give it to Magnus. He had his room strategically aligned especially for this sort of thing. Jace wasn't even sure warlocks slept anymore.

He rested his arm across her waist and watched her quickly fall asleep from exhaustion. She had used up all her energy, poor girl, faster than she could take from him. He watched her bare chest rise and fall in perfect rhythm for a half hour. He didn't want to move, should he wake her. He wanted her to take as much energy as possible so she'd be ready for Idris. Traveling would surely take it out of her again.

After a half hour, he couldn't take the silence anymore. He was sure she was deep in sleep but slowly moved his arm as to not jostle her awake. He slid out of bed and searched the pile of clothes on the floor for his pants and sweater. He didn't bother with undershirts and underwear and he had no idea the current condition of his hair but he left the room nonetheless, knowing the others would be outside.

Then, by the wide-eyed expressions on Alec, Magnus, and Izzy, he realized they probably heard everything. Magnus hid his lips behind a large cup of what appeared to be tea and looked at everything except Jace's face. Izzy crossed her arms and legs and leaned back in a simple chair in the corner, as far away from the bedroom door as possible. As for Magnus, he sat at the little round table across from Alec with a murderous stare.

Jace gulped and gently shut the door behind him. He adjusted his twisted sweater, pulling it down over his jeans. "Uh… hi," he whispered, standing very still as though afraid a knife might get thrown at his head any minute. "We ready for Idris?"

Izzy scoffed. "We were ready twenty minutes ago. We just didn't want to enter the lion's den in mid-coitus."

Alec sputtered into his tea. Magnus just shook his head as though disappointed. "You slept with her knowing she was possessed by the demonic spirit of her dead brother. Does anyone else find that horribly, horribly wrong?"

Jace rolled his eyes and went to serve himself up some tea. The only mug left was presumably Magnus' because it had the words World's Sexiest Sugar Daddy across it in glowing purple letters. He looked over his shoulder at Alec's cup. It was smaller and plain white with a gold rim. He was surprised they did not match but something told Jace the real matching cup was broken in a garbage can somewhere.

"Look who's talking. Did I not hear through the grapevine that you had a three-week relationship with a merman? Honestly, I think that's a little creepier. Everyone knows Izzy here fucked a bloodsucker, a faerie, half the Downworld… and Alec's doing you. Which is wrong in so so so many ways."

Magnus furrowed his brow but conceded the point. Izzy however stood up from her chair, obviously offended. But Jace read the curves of her face too easily. It wasn't offense. It was hurt, and he knew to retreat before he said something worse. He didn't want to alienate them anymore. He couldn't afford to if he wanted to save Clary.

"I'm sorry, Iz," he whispered. "It just slipped."

Alec set down his mug instantly. He turned to Magnus and reached for his hand across the table. "Did Jace just… apologize?" he hissed. "We should have gotten him laid years ago."

"Ha. Ha," said Jace, obviously not amused.

Isabelle seemed to have taken in his apology and had let the insults pass. She turned to the door and announced to no one, "I'm going to check on Simon. Don't leave without us."

She didn't have time to worry about Jace and his frail little heart. She grabbed a random black coat off the rack by the front door and headed outside. She didn't have to go far. He was sitting on the bus bench on the corner of the street, slouched down with one arm resting along the backrest as though waiting for her to take the spot beside him. As soon as she did, he wrapped his arm around her shoulders and pulled her closer into his side till her head rested on his shoulder.

"Are they done?" he asked with obvious disgust. She didn't look up. She didn't want to see his face, didn't want to see the jealousy he still held.

"A while ago. Jace just came out now. He's his usual cheery self."

He gave a sharp laugh. "I bet," he growled and went to stand. She tugged on his shirt, pulling him back down. When the light of a passing car caught her face, he saw the sadness for the first time. And then, it hit him. "You're afraid of Sebastian, aren't you?"

She winced and pulled harder till he sat back down. She hated hearing that name. She never responded to his question though. They were engulfed in silence once more, watching the taxis pass by. She didn't know what to do. He was obviously uncomfortable sitting in silence with her. They weren't the type of couple that basked in each others' presence. He was dead, and every bone in her body told her to stab first and ask questions later when it to came to vampires.

"Simon…" she began softly, knowing he could hear. "You still love her, don't you?"

He shook his head. "Once but now, she's more like a little sister that I keep seeing get hurt. And I don't think I can pick up the pieces this time, Iz."

She couldn't hold back the little smile. Not only was he kind, but he had the potential to be hers alone. "There's something you should know." She explained Jace's stupid trip into the Seelie Court and her even stupider deal to replace him.

"ARE YOU INSANE?!" he shouted, standing and facing her. His fists fell down at his sides. "Izzy, you can't do that!"

"Why?" She stood too, defiant. "What do I have to keep me here, Simon? Max is gone. Jace and Alec both have people who love them. Who do I have? If I stayed with the Seelie Court, I could at least be close to—"

"You can say it."

She looked down in shame. Here she was asking about his love for Clary when she obviously never got over Meliorn. She whispered his name so low that even Simon barely caught it.

"Do they know?" he asked, nodding towards the entrance to Magnus' loft.

She shook her head. Then, a small dose of courage made her raise her head and look him straight in the eye. "They don't know about our letters either."

He covered his face with his hand and raked his hair back. "They're just letters, Izzy."

"Fifty-six letters, Simon. I keep count in my head. You've sent me 56 letters since the last time we—Are you telling me they meant nothing, that you've been doing the same to Clary all this time? The things you said—" Her tone wasn't pleading. She was pointing out his hypocrisy and nothing else, she told herself, but the pain was there.

He scoffed but he was lost for words. It was so hard to deny his love, to win the argument, when his every action proved he cared for her. He'd been so stupid but it was so hard to stop after that second letter. He was just checking in on her, he told himself, but they'd become so addictive. Despite the loneliness, he liked Idris. He'd only come back because the letters stopped too suddenly.

"Damn, Izzy," he finally managed, too woozy to argue any further. It'd been too long since he last fed. "What are we doing? I meant every word and yes, it makes me pathetically jealous that you'd rather be trapped in the Court with that ass than be with me. But I also know I never asked you. Never once did I tell you I was coming back, only that I missed you. And never once did I tell you I loved you, though I do. I'm sorry that I wasn't there when you needed me. I'm sorry I went away."

She shed a single tear before turning back towards the loft, her heart unable to hear anymore before bursting out of its bony cell. Magnus was waiting with his mug full of something reeking, leaned up against the wall outside the door just out of view from the bus bench. He was the only one she'd trusted with knowledge of the letters, only because she needed him to send them to Idris. Of course he had read them though he'd told nothing to Alec on the matter. Right then, he wished he had because Alec would be the one in her way now, not him.

"Don't do it, Isabelle," he whispered, impeding her path inside. "Go back."

The tears overflowed. "It's none of your business, Magnus. Move!"

"His best friend, his sister, is dying and he can't do a thing to stop it, Isabelle. You know what that feels like. He was here when you really needed him all those months ago. Be here for him now. He loves you more than he says, more than you know."

"And how would you know?"

He shrugged and started back inside. "Maybe I'm the only one in this whole ruddy thing who doesn't have a secret, personal agenda. Maybe I'm just lying to play with your heads. Maybe I'm just observant. Go back and find out."

She didn't have to. The moment she turned around, she found him towering over her. She thought he'd grown but it was obviously impossible. He smirked down at her and whispered, "Distract me. At the very least, do me that favor."

She smiled and brought his cold lips down on hers again. They wouldn't have the night, not the way Jace and Clary had, but they'd at least have something to fight for.

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They waited for Clary to wake. Jace had to help her get dressed so she wouldn't collapse. He knew he wasn't the one doing this to her but he certainly hadn't helped the matter any. She was smiling though, a smile so genuine he hadn't seen since he first met her.

He buttoned up her jacket as she buttoned his coat. Their hands lingered on each others' collar and their eyes locked for the first time since she'd woken. She reached up to caress his cheek and they shared a slow, clean kiss.

"I love you," she whispered against his lips, making them tremble. To him, it sounded like a goodbye so he did not return the gesture.

They walked hand in hand towards the living room where everyone was arming themselves with every knife in their arsenal. Magnus was the only one who seemed light in his stylish black leather pants and white, button-down shirt. He still jumped out against the others. "Well… you look… monochromatic," commented Jace. Alec, who hadn't noticed, scanned him up and down quickly before going back to their weaponry. It was obvious to Jace, especially by the shut-up-or-I'll-kill-you stare, that Magnus didn't want Alec to notice the change.

"Let's go," demanded Izzy, sounding annoyed. The quicker they left, the quicker they could come back and she and Simon could finish what they started on the front steps.

"Testy, testy," answered Magnus, pointing to the already opened portal in the bathroom's full-length mirror.

Clary closed her eyes and allowed Jace to guide her forward into the portal with a soft hand on the base of her spine. It felt like a little piece of forever. The others went first and, with each step closer, her mind was finally purged of all the worries that plagued her. No longer preoccupied with Jace and the loss of him, she could take in the true problem that threatened her sanity.

Her mother had been responsible for this. Su had seen it in her own mind. There was little possibility that he'd been wrong, unless Sebastian had caught him and fed him a lie. It seemed unlikely but possible. Why would he want them back in Idris unless he was there himself, what was left of him?

In those few moments in darkness, she tried to imagine the beautiful warrior who tucked her in every night and indulged her anti-social behavior. She imagined her smile and her blazing red hair and the way she smelled of turpentine. This couldn't be her doing. It couldn't be.

Before she even opened her eyes, she knew they were in Idris. The breeze was different, free of pollution and that classic New York smell she couldn't get out of her clothes. The hand on her spine disappeared, replaced by two firm arms wrapped around her. Ah, the delightful feel of flannel and the smell of the forest. Her favorite lumberjack teddy bear.

"Luke," she whispered, unable to escape his grip long enough to hug him back.

She opened her eyes, greeted by plaid. "God, I've missed you, kiddo," he growled, lifting her up off the floor by her waist and spinning her around. Even after they all insisted he set her down, the room continued to spin. Jace's less muscular arms held her shoulders in place, probably leaving bruises. She'd have bruises in some very strange places in the morning.

"I've missed you too, Luke," she answered, shooting him a genuine smile.

He caught her ill state instantly. "What the Hell happened to you? You look half-dead." His eyes flew to Jace accusingly.

She stepped forward between them. "Relax. It isn't him. But you're right. There's something wrong with me and we need to see Mom. Now."

Luke surveyed the faces of the others for answers but nobody seemed to look him in the eyes.

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We're almost done! Yay! I so like finishing a story. Don't let me wuss out and get distracted by other stories, though it'll probably be a while till I update again. There are just so many floating around in my head so tell me what you like, dislike. And this new Inbox thread thingy is great so feel free to message me about anything.

Reviews are better than boyfriends who make up for all the silence.