Chapter 10: Jonathan, Sebastian, Jonathan, Valentine...We get to see what happened after "Sebastian" got home from the Halloween Party and Jonathan's morning after...Enjoy!
I do not own any of the characters, only the illustrious Cassandra Clare owns them. I do, however, own this particular story, so please don't be lame and copy/paste it elsewhere.
Previously: "Kaelie's story about Seelie's boss had come storming back to him. It was not a coincidence that…Clary, was drugged and attacked by someone with the same name as Seelie's boss. Sebastian."
Jonathan Morgenstern tied his black plush robe closed. He frowned and looked over the wreckage of his bedroom, stepping over the splintered remains of his desk and chair. He picked up the easel, dusted it off and placed it upright by his window. He threw open the heavy curtains and sunlight poured in, exposing the evidence of his rageful night. His black eyes followed the streaming light to the sleeping girl at the foot of his bed. He had grown weary of her. Last night she had been lackluster at best. Her garish red dyed hair was matted, her make-up smeared across her, non-freckled and not pretty-enough, face. Last night, Jonathan had to picture his Clarissa in her unzipped black costume, struggling beneath him, to even be able to cum…he had made the bitch on his bed turn over so he didn't have to look at her face. I need Clarissa.
He thought back to the party last night when he almost got her black lace bra off. "Stop…Seb– Sebastian. No." his Clarissa had begged through her drugged haze. Hearing his other name fall from her lips had been such a turn on. "It should be her sleeping in my bed, screaming my name. Both names...not some whore." Jonathan murmured to himself, flicking his eyes to the girl.
He bent down, picking up the trashy torn devil costume from last night and tossed it onto her sleeping form. She startled awake, blinking her blue-green eyes. Not dazzling emerald green. She yawned, stretched her arms wide and sat up, exposing her too large tits to him. Not Clarissa's perfect real breasts. She's not a worthy substitute at all.
She smiled flirtatiously and curled her index finger towards herself in a come here motion. "How about a little morning roll, Sebastian. You were so deliciously rough last night…just how I like it." Jonathan narrowed his eyes at her use of his other name.
He walked over to the bed, standing tall, he looked down at her coldly. Her eyes widened in excitement. He reached out, grasping her chin in his hand and squeezed. "How many fucking times have I told you, Seelie? You do not call me that name unless I tell you to. Get dressed and leave. I don't want you here anymore. You bore me." He roughly released her chin as she nodded and scrambled to gather her clothes. He sat down on his bed and impassively watched her dress and leave, without another word. Such an unremarkable woman… Her only redeeming quality is her unquestioning willingness to play my games, but in the end, she is just a cheap imitation of My Clarissa. I need the real thing, no more make believe.
Jonathan walked into his en suite to shower and make himself presentable before brunch with his father. He turned the water on and stepped under the scalding stream. He had been summoned by King Valentine Morgenstern. Apparently someone, probably Axel Mortmain, had tipped his father off about what transpired last night and he was getting called on the carpet to explain. Splendid. Jonathan squeezed out a generous amount of his new coconut shampoo, smells like her, and began to scrub the temporary black dye from his hair and beard. He hadn't intended for things to escalate so fast with his Clarissa. His other side had come out. His other name…
He had merely wanted to meet her, flirt, dance a little, see if she would give him her phone number…get the girl like any mundane college guy would. When she entered the club in that costume, dressed as some mistress from his darkest fantasies, he had become overcome with desire for her. His dark switch had flipped. He had quickly changed his plan to try to get her alone, maybe take her altogether. He had lost all rational thought. Jonathan grew hard and lowered his head under the shower, as the black tinted water began to run clear. He lathered his body with soap, fisting his cock. He began to pump his hand up and down as he revisited the image of Clarissa walking past him at Pandemonium.
At Magnus Bane's Halloween party, Jonathan had been standing against the wall, waiting, having a drink next to one of the many booths of the club. He had straightened up when he saw Clarissa, her roommate Isabelle Lightwood, and fucking Simon Lewis come in. They each had on costumes. He wasn't very familiar with most movies and pop-culture, but he recognized theirs. He remembered Simon from the prom picture at her parent's house and narrowed his eyes. A Jedi. Lame. His father had his men watching and gathering information on Clarissa ever since she returned from Rome. He knew Lewis was involved with the Lightwood girl, but it still annoyed him that he was such close friends with his redheaded beauty. That would have to change. He didn't want any men around her at all. Ever. Mine.
As Clarissa walked by, oblivious to him, he leaned towards her in the crowd and reached his hand out toward her back. His fingers caressed her thick red curls. She hadn't noticed, but the silken sensation had made him shiver and blood rush straight to his groin. He had leaned back against the wall watching her get settled at a table with her friends. She and her friends quickly drank mystery drinks provided by the cocktail waitresses. He casually wondered if Seelie had passed out the baggies to sell. Sales would be pretty high at a party like this. His eyes wandered past Clarissa to the bar, where he noticed a tall blonde guy, in all black watching her as well. He looked familiar. He looked like a cop. Does he know my Clarissa? He better not.
He was taken from his thoughts when he saw Clarissa looking at him, over her shoulder. God she is so beautiful. She looked him up and down, with a small smile, obviously taking in his costume and settling on his eyes. She was pleased. Reading those stupid books and binging the show had paid off, after all. He had felt foolish growing out a beard and dying his hair black for a costume, but to be able to be with Clarissa anonymously, or rather as Sebastian, would be worth it. He returned her gaze and looked her up and down. He really liked what he saw and saluted her with his drink glass. He wanted to unzip that costume all the way down to hell and smother her breasts with hot kisses and bites. That was when she smiled again and blushed. Did she fucking read my mind? How can someone so gorgeous and sexy look so innocent at the same time? He had licked his lips and stepped forward, to go talk to her when he saw Clarissa take a tentative step towards him. This is going to be too easy. The Lightwood bitch stopped her and pulled her away to the dance floor. He clenched his fists. She had too many people around her here. He turned and found Seelie in her devil costume staring at him and waved her over. She hurried over and he quickly looked her over.
Her red dyed hair was braided tightly down her back. She had fake freckles penciled on her cheeks, a devil-horn headband and a tight red spandex dress, basically painted on her. "Yes, Se-Jonath– boss?" She asked excitedly, out of breath. God she was annoying.
Jonathan sighed, leaned down to her and whispered in her ear. "Prepare one of those pink drinks for My Clarissa, Seelie. I'll have my usual. Make sure you only use half of the baggie. She's so petite and delicate, I wouldn't want her to get sick. I want her happy, hot and willing– not comatose. Come find us when we're alone. Did I make myself clear?" Seelie nodded enthusiastically and turned to carry out his orders. Jonathan reached out and pulled her back to him. "By the way, tonight I am Sebastian. That's what you will call me." He murmured. Seelie bit her lip and shivered.
Sebastian wandered through the dancing bodies like a predator, hunting his prey. The steady trance-like music seemed to guide him. He still wasn't sure if he would implement his full plan. Maybe he would stick to dancing and kissing. Second base, perhaps? His father had forbidden him from contact until he was there to proctor it. Father had his own plans…a hand dropped on his shoulder and he slowly peered back to find Axel Mortmain behind him, looking bored.
Axel pointed his thumb to the right. "She's dancing over by the bar alone. Her hot roomie and the nerd took off to fuck or something." Jonathan nodded at him and started to walk when Axel stopped him again. "I forgot, boss, I've secured a private booth at the north end of the club. There's a fire exit next to it…in case you decide to make this a real party and need to take her somewhere else. I'm game for whatever." He smirked at Sebastian. "If you're the sharing type, I've had my eye on that redhead since Amsterdam. That tight, sweet body…those tits. I'd like to absolutely plow her little pussy…" Axel started a low whistle when Sebastian punched him quickly in the throat. Axel grabbed his neck and bent over sputtering and coughing.
Sebastian clapped his hand down on him and rubbed his back in fake concern. He leaned down and gripped the back of Axel's neck while the large man caught his breath. "Listen to me very carefully, Mortmain. Clarissa Fairchild is my woman. Mine. She is going to be my wife. She will bear my children one day. She is an angel. You are to never lay a lustful hand on or spew such filth about her from your vile maw again. If you do, I will fucking end you. Do you understand me?" The man nodded silently, standing upright, his mouth tight. He headed away from Sebastian, through the crowd towards the booth, still rubbing his throat.
Bringing his thoughts back to the present, Jonathan stepped out of the shower and dried off with a black fluffy towel. He stared at his reflection in the mirror, running his hand over his clean shaven face, he turned to the right. He noticed bruising along his left jawline. He hadn't even felt a punch. Apparently, Blondie hits like a little bitch. He couldn't wait until they met again in battle. He would crush him…there was no way he would allow that pretty boy to take her from him again.
When that fucking frat-boy surfer looking cop interrupted his special alone time with Clarissa, he had become enraged. He had almost had her out of there but the asshole had surprised him, tore him from her, and hurled him out of the booth on his back. Rude. Sebastian stood up quickly and had barreled into him, scooping him and throwing him backwards against some stools. They punched at each other wildly. The cop somehow got the advantage and pinned Sebastian, but Axel hit him with a stool, knocking him aside. That was when that fucking Simon Lewis appeared and bitch-jumped on Mortmain's back. Sebastian knew that security would be coming soon. They had made too much noise. So, he pulled the fire alarm and he and Mortmain blended with the crowd and left. He hadn't seen Clarissa again after that.
It wasn't until he got back to his room at the mansion later that he had realized he had a souvenir from his fight with the blonde cop stuck on his sleeve…a crumpled name tag that read, "Hello My Name is: Sexprotz." Sex stud? What a douche. It was then that Sebastian narrowed his eyes and crushed the paper in his hands, suddenly engulfed in rage and jealousy. He had read that same name somewhere. In her phone! She had two missed calls from Sexprotz the day Jonathan had stolen Clarissa's phone…and a voicemail she had never listened to. His picture in the contacts had been his bare chest and abs. Fucker.
Sebastian took Clarissa's phone from his treasure box and replayed the message from this Sexprotz prick. "Clary, its Jace... Um, I need you to call me back, sweetheart. Crap. You probably have your phone off…you're flying to New York by now. Forget it, I'll just come to the airport with Iz and Lewis. I'll see you soon, Clary. Soon.' Sebastian put the phone back in his box and slammed it shut. That was Jace fucking Herondale, Sebastian seethed to himself. Detective Jace Herondale that had run point on the Garroway fire investigation until his father had that dipshit Hodge Starkweather placed as Interim Chief of Detectives. Hodge had quickly taken it over and closed it…just as he was paid to. Herondale was the guy at the bar eye-fucking my Clarissa last night. He had been looking for her when he interrupted our alone time in the booth and he took her away from him last night. Are they fucking right now? I'm going to have to kill him too.
Sebastian began breathing heavily, his heart pounding. He growled and pulled his bookshelves to the floor, spilling his many books and across the room. He then picked up his wooden chair and smashed it against his desk over and over, roaring in rage, until both pieces of furniture were destroyed. There was a knock at his door and Seelie opened it and slipped in. She looked at the mess, wide eyed. "You asked for me, Sebastian?" She put heavy emphasis on his other name.
Sebastian motioned for her to approach him, he was sweat soaked and panting. Feral. He ran his hands through his dyed black hair. As she slowly walked toward him, he unzipped his costume coat, Kefta, and let it fall to the floor. His toned chest heaved with his staggered breaths and he reached out to Seelie, tearing her red devil costume off of her. She ran her eyes over his naked chest and muscled abdomen and smiled hungrily. She motioned to the easel that had been knocked over in his rage. "Shall I be your Clarissa for you tonight…draw for you, Sebastian?" She unbraided her vivid red hair and fluffed her waves out around her naked shoulders. He could see her blonde roots that had started to grow out. He looked down at her face.
His black eyes looked into hers… blue-green, not green. He shook his head at her and pushed her shoulders down. She quickly sank to her knees and unbuckled his pants, sighing as they pooled around his ankles. She stared excitedly at his hardening member. He wrapped his hands harshly in her hair and shook her head with his fists, she moaned and looked up at him, opening her mouth. As he slid his cock into Seelie's eager mouth, he glared down into her blue-green eyes and seethed, "Close your eyes and don't open them again…Clarissa." The rest of the night had been full of sordid role-playing games and depraved, multi-positional sex acts. Seelie had finally collapsed to sleep at the bottom of his bed. Sebastian, not one to sleep easily, laid naked at the top of his bed, flipping through the pictures on Clarissa's phone before drifting to sleep.
Jonathan finished buttoning his charcoal dress shirt and walked out of his room to go to the dining room. He had called housekeeping to come clean his room and replace his broken furniture. The staff was mildly terrified of Jonathan's temper, so he expected his room would be ship-shape by that evening. Entering the opulent dining room, Jonathan saw his father had already taken his seat at the head of the large antique dining table, his plate was full of basted eggs, bacon, and an assortment of fruit. Valentine Morgenstern read his newspaper, pretending not to notice him. His father folded his newspaper, took a deep breath, and looked up at his son. He has on his poker face. Shit.
Jonathan took the seat to Valentine's right and picked up the coffee carafe, pouring the steaming liquid into his cup. He set the carafe back down on the table. "Good morning Father. How was your trip to Idris? I–" Jonathan's head snapped to the left, not quick enough to move before Valentine backhanded him across the face. Jonathan grunted, but did not react. It barely even tickled, old man.
He turned back to his father, picked up his coffee and blew over the mug. "Did you have something you wanted to discuss, Father?" Jonathan leveled his eyes at Valentine and sipped his drink. Valentine stabbed some cantaloupe and shoved it in his mouth. He chewed quietly, watching Jonathan as a male servant placed a plate of the same breakfast in front of his son. Jonathan began to eat. Such an appetite after last night…
After the servant hurried from the room, Valentine, not betraying any emotion, spoke. "Listen very carefully. I have news, son. It has come to my attention that Clarissa was harmed last night at some Halloween party…drugged and attacked at a local club called Pandemonium. She apparently was taken to the hospital, where she–" his father pulled a manila folder from under his newspaper, opened it and read for a few seconds, then sighed. "Let's see here. Starkweather kindly sent me this thorough report this morning. Ah yes, where she was reported to have several bruises on her wrists, jawline and good lord, her neck. Someone choked our beautiful, vulnerable Clarissa." It's more like I grabbed her. I lost my temper after she ripped that mask off, Jonathan thought. Valentine Shook his head and stared hard at Jonathan. He looked back expectantly at his father, chewing a piece of bacon.
Speaking through his teeth, his father hissed. "There were also fucking bite-marks, all indicative of sexual assault. A 'rape kit' was performed, including a full physical examination. Thankfully, our Clarissa was not raped, per say…not in the traditional sense. She did have a concentrated amount of MDMA, or ecstasy, in her system. It's believed someone drugged her drinks and attempted to rape and possibly kidnap her. They were able to treat her and she will recover, thankfully. Oh, yes, when she was able to talk, she said the person that brutalized her was named Sebastian." Well, that was unexpected. She remembered that, huh? She's so brilliant. Time to spin it…
Jonathan raised his eyebrows. "Father, let me explain. I–" he stopped speaking when Valentine raised his hand up, his index finger extended. Fuck.
Valentine narrowed his eyes, his face flushed in anger. "I'm not done, Jonathan. It gets better." He yelled. "During the struggle against the savage that attacked her, Clarissa was able to rip his 'rubber scar mask' from his face, which retained some beard hairs and skin cells. So, there is fucking DNA evidence from her attacker in a goddamn police report. Also, my favorite part… the attacker was seen and nearly overpowered and retained by an officer of the law. Let's see, his name was Detective Jace Herondale." Valentine snapped the folder closed and tossed it at Jonathan who caught it in one hand. "You were told not to make contact until I could arrange it. You know the plan, you fucking impetuous, horny little pervert. You may have ruined everything…It's going to cost a lot to get this taken care of. Luckily you aren't in the DNA database…"
Jonathan sighed heavily and looked at Valentine. "Look father. Things got carried away last night. I certainly didn't intend to hurt Clarissa. She gladly danced with me and we became…closer and went somewhere private. I had no idea she had been drugged. There were open, complimentary drinks everywhere. I was just…mesmerized by her. She is so beautiful and intoxicating. I lost control and misinterpreted things…I assumed she liked things, um rougher. I was wrong. It won't happen again. I couldn't bear it if she was hurt…she is mine, after all. I'm not the sort of man that needs to drug a woman for sex…"
Valentine closed his eyes and shook his head in frustration. "Jonathan, you must remember that Clarissa is not like other women. She's special…she's a Fairchild woman of Idris, like her mother was… and as such, deserves to be treated better than the peasant, mundane women you're used to. You must charm her, woo her, court her… You are a Morgenstern man…control your proclivities." She will become accustomed to my…proclivities. She was made for me, Jonathan thought to himself. Mine.
Valentine's dark brown eyes narrowed angrily at Jonathan and he shouted, "We do not savage our women…at least not in a public setting…or in a goddamn bar!" He lowered his voice, wiped his mouth with his napkin, and threw it on his plate. "We're lucky you were smart enough to at least disguise yourself well. It seems that Clarissa will probably not remember much from last night, per the medical report. Let's hope that remains true. We must give her time to recover, son. Keep that in mind… I will reach out to her soon about Idris…about her legacy. Then we'll see about adding her to our family. Until then, no more of your perverted little games. Understood?" Valentine stood up and looked at Jonathan with raised eyebrows, tucking his newspaper under his arm.
Jonathan smiled tightly and looked up at his father, clenching his fists beneath the table. "Of course father. Understood."