Hello guys! Yes, I am updating two at a time. Both chapters were ready, and since I update weekly, it's making up for the two weeks I missed. Also, I adore having a free week with all of my heart. All I've done is read, sleep, and write. And eat. Let's not forget food. Thanks to maxwaylandgrey for, um…stuff, to SportyNo1 for being so awesome and skyping with me last week, and to all of you guys who review. I love you. No, really, I love you. I just need to memorize your names so I can thank you. (I'm bad when it comes to memory.)
Enjoy! And leave a review ;)
*I do not own TMI. And to you who didn't know, there are movie news. Shooting is scheduled for August 15, and they're looking for Simon. In fact, I'm pretty sure that before April ends, we'll have our Simon. They're hiring a casting director. Okay, so, back to my official statement: I do not own TMI. But if you guys need the link for the news, PM me or something and I'll send it* :)
Clary was sprawled on Jace's bed the next morning, wearing only one of his oversized t-shirts and one of Isabelle's small bras and panties. Clary knew she'd gotten the black lingerie on purpose, but all she did was sigh and shrug it off. The rest of her clothing was wet from the night before, which she spent in the shower with Jace, talking about the most random things. Water, it seemed, calmed them both down enough. It erased their worries and pain, at least enough so they were able to communicate properly and happily.
The doorbell rung, snapping her out of her trance. She nudged Jace. "Should we go get it?"
"Someone else will," Jace said.
"Fat chance!" Isabelle yelled from the hallway. "And Alec spent the night at Magnus's house."
"Fuck," Jace muttered, and then he stood up. "Okay, babe, let's go."
Clary rolled her eyes at Jace, but she grinned and said, "You act as if we're going to fight for our lives instead of answer the door."
Too late, she realized what she said, and then a wave of fear crashed into her. What if they were going to take Jace away? What if whoever was there just wanted to yank him out of her tight grasp and take him away forever? She suddenly felt like she was going to break down, but then she composed herself. If someone was going to take Jace away, she was going to fight. She wasn't about to let anyone take away the only boy in her life she could trust aside from Simon. No way.
When they opened the door, there was a package. They glanced around to make sure there was no one, but after a few minutes of searching around the porch and street, the package was the only unusual thing around. Jace picked it up with a frown.
"It's addressed to me," he said, his frown growing deeper. Clary kissed the spot between his eyebrows and hurried him inside.
"What is it?" she asked. "You, obviously, were not expecting that."
"I wasn't. Could you maybe get me some soda?"
"Sure." She frowned and stood up, not wondering once why Jace wanted her out of the room. She thought it was for privacy purposes, although they never hid anything from one another. Clary found the soda soon enough, and once she had two cups with soda and ice, she walked back into the living room.
In the table, there were several pieces of paper spread out, and most of them looked like pictures. She frowned and walked over to Jace.
"Here," she said, handing him over the cup. He smiled up at her, though it didn't reach his eyes. She sat down next to him.
"What are these?" she asked, looking at the images.
"Pictures of me as a little boy," Jace said, his voice tight and guarded, and Clary knew he was going to either cry or scream.
"Who sent these?"
"Who do you think?"
"That lady," Clary said, her voice filled with hatred and disgust.
"She sent me a letter." His eyes flew immediately to the piece of paper that had been left untouched, one that had Jace Wayland written on it.
She looked at him tentatively. "Can I?"
"Yeah," he said, and she reached for the letter and tore it open.
"Blah blah blah, we want you to come live with us, blah blah blah—" She stopped abruptly, which made Jace propel forward.
"What is it?"
"Um," she said, but made no other sound. He snatched the letter away from her.
"There's nothing here that's unusual, except for that one thing where they'll take someone's daughter if I don't go, but . . . I don't know any Morgenstern chick. Do you?" When he lifted his eyes and stared at her, it was almost unbearable to nod.
"Jace?"
"Yes?" he asked, still unconcerned, still not understanding.
"My dad, he was involved in, uh, business with other people when he was younger. And that business was bad, and—"
"I don't get it," he said.
"—and it involved the Herondale family and the Lightwood family, among others." She looked at the letter. "She's Imogen Herondale."
"And?"
"Your father is a Herondale."
"Which makes you what?" Jace asked, exasperated.
"Valentine Morgenstern's daughter."
###
"You told him?" Simon asked Clary, disbelief all over his face.
After Clary had blurted out the truth to Jace, he'd declared he needed some space for the afternoon, and she said she would hang out with Simon. As expected, Isabelle was there, and she was hanging on to their every word.
"I didn't have a choice!" Clary replied, fuming. She was hoping Simon would help her, maybe give her some advice on the tragedy that was her love life, but he did nothing.
"You always have a choice."
"This time it was to lie, Si. I didn't want to lie to Jace," she said, her voice soft. "Not when he's going through this. I need to be there for him, and I just fucked that up by trying to help!"
"It's not your fault," Isabelle said, and Clary looked at the other girl questioningly. "Jace tends to be a bit overdramatic sometimes. And I understand that this is a huge situation, Clary, I do. But . . . they won't take you away. They're bluffing, and it's only a matter of time before Jace realizes it."
Clary nodded, trying to relax, but her body seemed unable to perform such a simple task. "Should I go talk to him?"
"Go," Isabelle said. "But, first of all, keep me on speed dial just in case. And secondly, just get on with it and fuck the guy."
Clary slapped Isabelle's arm playfully. "Will not," she said, her face almost as red as her hair. "I'll, um, see you guys later."
"See ya, Clary. And call if you need anything!" Isabelle said, slamming the door on her face.
"So nice," she muttered, and then set off.
The walk to Jace's house was, as usual, long. It was long and sand crept into her feet, sliding between her toes and making her uncomfortable. It was a bad day for wearing converse. She sighed. She couldn't take them off, because there were pieces of glass sprawled all over the place. She picked up the pace and broke into a run, her feet pounding against the sand, the heat of the summer slamming against her face. She was almost there, only a bit more, but she had to sit down.
She couldn't.
Jace would kill her.
So she went back to jogging to Jace's house, and when she felt she could pass out and every inch of her body, though mostly her lungs, were about to explode—that was when she reached his house. She knocked on his door as strongly and angrily as she could, and then the door flung open and Jace was standing there.
He hugged her tightly, ignoring the damp shirt full of sweat or the fact that she was panting as if she'd run a marathon. Which, technically, she had.
"Come on," he said. "Take your shirt off."
"What?" she asked, instinctively covering her chest with her arms.
"I've seen you like this before. But don't worry," Jace said, smirking, "I just wanna help."
"Fine." She gritted her teeth and took her shirt off, and the cold hit her suddenly. She began shivering a bit, but mostly she welcomed it.
"Go take a shower," he said, leading her inside Isabelle's room. "I'll give you something to wear. She has old underwear around here."
"Okay," Clary said, nodding as Jace gave her a kiss in the forehead and closed the door. She got a pair of old panties and a very old bra from Izzy. They were probably from her middle school days, which was embarrassing. They were still a black lacey matching set, which Clary would never own.
"Here you go," Jace said, handing her a huge shirt that would look like a dress on her.
"Thanks," she said, and waited for him to leave.
"Want me to help?" he raised his eyebrows suggestively.
"Jace!" she said, seemingly outraged. He chuckled and made his way out of the room. She undressed as quickly as she could and took her stuff inside the bathroom.
The water was like heaven, a perfect mix of hot and cold, and she took her time enjoying the shower. It was probably an hour later that she decided to exit the shower and join Jace, but she was too scared of what would happen. She spent the entire shower—one hour, apparently—thinking about everything except him, except this huge problem that she wasn't ready to face, but she somehow had to. Jace was a lot more to her than anyone else was. Clary didn't get attached to many people, really. Her friendship with Maia wasn't even a friendship anymore, and same with Jordan. She didn't want that to happen with Simon and Isabelle. And she definitely didn't want that to happen with Jace. She didn't want to forget him, and she didn't want to be forgotten by him.
"Jace . . . ?"
He was looking at the letter he'd received earlier, although Clary wished he'd be looking at something else instead. Anything.
"Clary," he said without looking up. It was the only acknowledgement he gave her. She should've been hurt—and she was—but she saw his reason to be mad. Dramatic. Sad. Worried. She wanted to know what he was feeling, really, and she came back to apologize. She'd never been proud of her family. There was nothing to be proud of, and Jace reminded her of that.
"Jace," she said, her voice cracking. She bit her lip and wished she could hide someplace, someplace she'd never be found in. She felt weak, and she hated the feeling. All she wanted was to have him back. She didn't want to face this whole thing alone. Her own dad was willing to hold her hostage to hurt people. What kind of a father was he, really? And how could Jace be mad at her for something that was out of her control?
He looked up at her then, looking just as bad as she felt. His hair was messy, as if he'd run his hands through it in every direction possible. His eyes were red, his mouth lacking its usual upward twist.
"Clary—"
"Look, I know that it's bad," she said, cutting him off. "It's really bad. But don't push me away." She was pleading with her voice, with her eyes, with her body. "There's a lot to lose. I don't know why you—we—are being dragged into this. But we have to figure out a way to do something, or else it'll end really badly."
"But he's your dad," Jace said, a confused expression in his face. "Shouldn't he care whether you die or not?"
"No," she said flatly.
"I mean, I get it, but he really wouldn't care if he killed you himself?"
"My dad," Clary said to him, sitting down on the edge of his bed, "would do anything for power. Anything. He tried to kill my brother, Jonathon, when he was a baby. He took Jon with him when he fled, and left my mother with me. I was only five."
"How do you remember?"
"Oh, I don't," she said, shaking her head. "But my mom talks with Luke about this, and she can get quite loud when she thinks I'm not listening."
"How do you trust that?"
"I don't. I've looked him up, seen my mother's old journals, heard the rumors—it can be a lie, true, but I doubt it. Why would my mom make this up?"
"I don't know," he mumbled.
"She wouldn't. She may be stupid and a drunken bitch, but she has a reason to be. I never really saw it, not until—recently," she said, struggling to find a word to when she pinpointed the reason her mother acted the way she did. And it was, after all, when she thought of losing Jace. When she thought of life without him, she just didn't think it'd be the same. "She loved him. I mean, she loves Luke, but Valentine was the first man she loved. And it must've been hard, seeing him turn out differently than she thought he would."
"Yeah," he said, but his voice was strained, as if he was still processing everything. "Look, Clary, I'm sorry. I fucked up. I know it may seem like I blamed you for being his daughter and for not telling me, but I've thought about it. I'm a fucking idiot. And I've been mustering up the courage to tell you this the whole day, from the moment you left, until now. And it's horrible. I know I must've insulted you, and in no ways will 'sorry' be enough, but it's all I have to give."
She waited to make sure he was done, and then she closed the distance between them. "Jace," she said, linking their fingers together. "You didn't fuck up. I get it, I do, and although it did offend me, I'm way over it."
"Clary, I don't wanna lose you. I don't want stupid things like these changing our relationship." He was looking at their hands, never at her, and she found it cute how he was embarrassed, for he was Jace Wayland, and he was never embarrassed of anything.
"Listen, Jace, I forgive you. We all make shitty choices from time to time."
"It doesn't excuse that I insulted you, Clary. It was wrong."
"Yeah," she agreed. "It was. But it's over, and you're forgiven." And I love you, she added silently.
He breathed out with relief. "Okay, can we just spend a few hours together, just the two of us, no worries at all?"
"Can we just talk about the whole thing?" she asked. "It's just—it's hard to let it go."
"I know. And we will," he added quite persistently, "but I need to spend a few hours with you, doing the things we usually do. Because I need you."
"I'm here," she said softly. "And okay. But then we go back to being serious."
"Deal."
###
The two men were outside the Lightwood residence, wondering whether or not the two teenagers were still fighting. It was bad, to have them separated. Having them separated meant that they meant less to each other, and so they didn't make very good threats and hostages. Which meant that their boss would be royally pissed off.
"Come on," the younger one muttered, looking up at Jace's bedroom window. "Please be happy—"
"Even if they're mad at each other, they're stupid enough to care." The older one glared at said window. "So it doesn't matter."
"He likes it when they're happy."
"He intends to kill them. Their happiness means shit at the end of the day," the older one reasoned.
The younger one snorted and nodded. "You're right. We should just go and say they've made up."
"With what proof?" said the older one.
The younger one nodded and patted the older one's back. "If you spent nearly as much time around people like them as I have, you'd know the answer to that, trust me."
"And that is?" the older one asked expectantly, while the younger one rolled his eyes.
"They're teenagers," he said simply. "There's no way either of them could keep their hands off each other for longer than an hour."
###
Clary didn't remember who started it or when it did, but she found it impossible to keep her hands off of Jace. Her lips had been on his for the longest time, only stopping when it was necessary to breathe.
"Clary," he said.
"Jace," she said.
"Are you sure?" he asked, and she knew what he was asking, and she knew why he was asking.
She nodded. "I'm positive."
Clary kissed him again, softly at first, and then when he didn't stop her she kissed him harder, with a rougher feel. She wanted to keep kissing him until her lips bruised and she couldn't move them any longer, until they were purple, until she couldn't kiss him anymore. Her arms were locked around his neck, and it occurred to her that they were in his house, truly alone for the whole weekend. Isabelle was sleeping over at Simon's, Max was staying with his grandma, and Alec was with Magnus. She thought of the things that could happen.
I want them to.
Shit.
He still had her pinned against the wall, his hands trailing down her shoulders, down her sides, down her legs . . . and then they went up, stopping at her hips. She locked her legs on either side of his hips, so that there was no space between them at all. He pressed kisses on her throat, stopping on her soft spot and nibbling on it roughly. She knew that she'd probably have a nasty bruise there, but she, honestly, didn't care. Her hands were tangled in his hair, and she pushed him closer. She heard him moan, and it was the sexiest sound he ever made the entire time they knew each other.
He finally decided to meet her lips again, but this time his hands began wandering under her shirt, exploring her stomach and going up until they found her breasts. He moved them to the back and unhooked the bra with no problem. She slipped off her shirt while Jace carried her to the bed. By the time she lay facing him, her upper body was completely exposed. She fought the urge to cover herself—it wasn't every day that she let Jace see her completely—but she reminded herself that it didn't matter. He squeezed her left breast gently, and she let out a moan, biting her lip and fighting the urge to scream. He squeezed her other breast, and then took the nipple between his teeth, biting down on it ever-so-gently. She bit her lip and her hips thrust upward in response to him sucking on her nipple. His lips trailed down, up until they reached her waist. Slowly, he pulled her pants off, kissing down every inch that was slowly uncovered. He kissed the spot between her legs, and she felt herself go weak. She wanted, with all of her life, to scream, but all she could do was let out a pathetic whimper due to the fact that she was biting her lip so hard she drew blood. He chuckled darkly as he met her lips once again. She felt the hardness of his cock against her thigh, and the thought made her smirk.
"You," she said, panting, "have too many clothes on."
"Take them off, then," Jace said, letting go of her and sitting on top of her, his legs on either side of her.
She grinned. "My pleasure." Off went the shirt, and then he was pinned down to the bed by Clary, who was surprisingly strong considering her height and weight. She kissed him hard, but with a passion that mirrored his own. Her hands trailed down his pecks, to his abs, which she adored. She broke off their kiss and, instead, planted several kisses on his stomach and one on each peck of his, causing him to grunt in pleasure. She smiled, pleased to know she wasn't the only one who reacted that way to the other.
She slipped off his pants as slowly as he'd slipped hers, but she didn't kiss every area in between his waist and his feet. Once his pants were off, her hands circled around his cock, and he got even harder. She moved her hands up and down his length, and he moaned in pleasure.
"So good," he choked out. "Don't stop."
"It's not that part yet," she said, though she knew she had to get him inside her or she'd die. That's what it felt like, anyway.
"God, Clary," he said, thrusting his hips upward at the pressure she applied. She fastened her pace and then he said, "Stop."
When she noticed his voice was dead serious, she stopped. She felt him shudder. "What is it?"
"I want," Jace said slowly, in a tone that was very dangerous, but so dark and sexy that she needed it, craved it, wanted it, "to be inside of you."
She lay down beside him, and he stood up. "Then go ahead."
He positioned himself so that his legs were on either side of her waist. He couldn't do it yet, because it'd lack everything, and that's what he wanted her to have—everything. He slipped two fingers inside her, moving them up and down, and she was so wet, he had to remind himself that she hadn't had sex since freshmen year. He didn't wanna think about that. He just fastened his pace as she moaned and screamed his name.
When he retrieved his fingers, she watched with hungry eyes as he licked his fingers. She let out a long moan and his lips crushed hers.
"I. Want. You." Her command was loud and clear, despite the fact that she felt like jelly.
"Your wish is my command," he said, a smirk on his face. Then he positioned himself again, and he was inside of her in a matter of seconds. Pleasure filled her, although it was a bit painful. It wasn't bad, but mostly it was because it was Jace, and she couldn't help but loving him. Her hips thrust upward and they settled on a steady-yet-fast pace, and she felt like every inch of her body was burning. All she could do was moan and thrust and scream his name, over and over again. He kissed her lips roughly, and their hands moved up and down their bodies. She came first. She tried to hold it back for as long as possible, but she couldn't handle the pressure anymore.
"It's okay," Jace soothed, and then he kept thrusting deeply inside of her. He came afterward, moaning with pleasure as it was over, but regretting that it didn't last nearly as long as they wished.
"I love you, Jace."
"And I love you, Clary."
