Author's Note: This chapter contains psychological manipulation, captivity, incest, rape, hate sex (technically just rape, since the sex is nonconsensual anyway, but figured I'd tag it since this sex is a bit more angry than before), blood, sex injuries, and mentions of torture.

Ahem. Sorry it's late. So, so late. I've been struggling with double-guessing every single sentence, and constantly changing things. But you aren't hear to listen to all that. You're here to read. So, I'm posting a shorter chapter to get some content up and to let you know I'm still alive, and I will update with some longer chapters soon.

Chapter Twenty Three

In a single, swift move, he twisted his wrist in her grasp, grabbing at her forearm and tugging so she rolled onto her back with a gasp. She raised her other arm as he bent forward, but before she could do anything with it he trapped it beneath his palm, keeping it flat to the bed. She lay still as he leaned in close to her ear.

"I can be quiet. If you give my mouth something to do," he whispered, sliding his tongue up the shell of her ear. "What do you say we pick up where we left off in the training room?"

...

As Sebastian shoved back the covers and sheets to reposition himself atop her, Clary noted to herself that her brother must have been misremembering where they left off in the training room. Because if she recalled correctly, the last thing that had happened before she'd stormed out was her slicing his face open, which was, incidentally, not where they appeared to be picking things up from.

She was about to say as much, when Sebastian pinned her hands under one palm and began moving slowly downward, tracing the lines of her body with his now free hand. Clary stuttered awkwardly as he began to lightly grind his hips into hers, the movements so soft they would have hardly been noticeable if it weren't for the obvious hardness there. His fingers slipped beneath her tank top.

"Don't rip it—!" she cried suddenly, blushing furiously, aggravated by the reminder of her steadily shrinking wardrobe of modest clothing items, and Sebastian laughed.

"Fine. Stay still," he ordered, and released her hands to take up her shirt, sliding it quickly over her head. As soon as her arms were free from the tangle of fabric, she lowered them to cover herself, but after discarding the tank top he pushed her hands away and reached for her again. She tensed, expecting him to go for her bra, but instead he picked up the Morgenstern ring that was resting on her sternum and began to lift it away from her.

Clary panicked. Before she could explain to herself why, she grabbed his wrist to stop him from pulling the necklace over her head. "Wait."

"What?" he pressed, his voice dropping with impatience, and Clary struggled to find the right words under his half-glare.

"I just…don't want to take it off," she said hesitantly, and Sebastian gave her a quizzical look.

"Why?"

Because she just got it back. Because she wasn't ready to have it taken again.

It might be small, but it was the only piece of home, of Jace, that she had left. And she didn't want to take it off. Not even for this.

But how in the hell was she supposed to explain that to Sebastian? How do you explain that to a man that doesn't understand love or sentimentality?

She pressed her lips together, unsure what to say, already regretting having even brought it up. Shaking her head, she let go of his hand, as if to say nevermind, but instead of continuing to take it off Sebastian let it drop back to her chest with a scoff.

"You want to leave it on," he said slowly, a muscle feathering in his jaw, and the way his mouth tightened made her shrink back into the bed. "What for? As some stoic symbol of your love for him?"

"...Forget it."

He pressed on anyway. "You think wearing that while I fuck you will make this any less real?" he laughed, though his tone was unamused, and he leaned over her so his arms were braced beside her head. "You must think he's awfully forgiving," he said, voice dropping, "to believe that, even if you were to see him again, he'd want you back after this."

"I said forget it," she repeated, but there was less venom in her voice than she meant there to be.

Picking up the necklace again, he tugged at the chain the ring was looped on, and it pulled uncomfortably at the hair on the back of her neck. "Or…is it that you think wearing this will make it easier to imagine it's angel-boy above you instead?"

Clary swallowed thickly.

He was miles off with the assumption—in no world could she imagine Sebastian was Jace, not with his pale, burning hot skin, not with his black, obsessive eyes—but with nothing nice to say in regard to comparison between them, she kept her mouth shut.

But silence didn't seem to be what he was looking for, and she hissed as he pulled the necklace taut with enough force that she thought it might break, the links digging painfully into her spine.

"No," she gritted, trying to give the answer he wanted, but he ignored her, releasing the ring again to push his hand beneath the band of her shorts, pressing between her legs.

"Does it help to think of him when I do this?"

Even as she squirmed and shoved at his shoulders he continued, fingers forced between her clenched thighs to work at her roughly over her underwear.

"No," Clary gasped, shoving him harder, but he was a brick wall, and she could only swallow down an awkward noise of surprise as he pulled the fabric aside. As she struggled to push out from underneath him, he shifted his weight back to sit on her knees to prevent her from attempting what she had in the training room.

Too quickly, too roughly, he pressed two fingers into her, and she groaned helplessly, the stretch dry and painful. But before she could complain about the pain, he was pressing his thumb over her clit, rubbing in persistent circles that left her breathing heavy and her struggles weak, despite the harsh thrusting of his fingers.

Her nails dug into the skin of his forearm, leaving red, irritated scratches in their wake as she tried to push him away, but he was, as usual, entirely unphased.

"Are you thinking of him now?"

"Stop!" Clary pressed her other hand to his bare chest, pushing hard. He leaned back a tad, only to grab her wrist and pin it above her head.

"You think he would want you wearing that while someone else does to you what he never could? You really think Jace would be okay with this? With how good your brother makes you feel?" The more he spoke, the more furious he became, his hand moving quicker and harder on her, and Clary gasped and cried and tossed, scratching and pushing at his arm, because it didn't feel good, the friction too much, the burn too unbearable.

"Sebastian—"

"Like a well trained pet. Getting wet as soon as I touch you."

Clary yelled out her frustration between clenched teeth, bucking her hips up to try and move away.

"You think Jace would want you back after you've been so perfectly fit to me? You think he'd ever forgive you? Hah, as if any of that matters anyway. You're mine. And wearing his ring does not change that," he growled, and Clary screamed angrily, releasing his arm to pull her hand back sharply.

"Shut up about Jace!"

Before she could stop herself, or think about what might actually happen if she followed through, she slapped Sebastian across the face—hard.

There was a solid crack as his head whipped to the side with the unexpectedness of the blow, his mouth opening in a surprised, hissing gasp of air, and the assault between her legs stopped dead. As Clary pulled her hand back, she saw a bright red handprint appear along the left side of his face, the marks of her fingers splayed across the very cheekbone she'd sliced open earlier.

Except this time she didn't feel guilty at all.

She did regret it, though, the instant his eyes cut to hers, low and dangerously irate. And before she could say anything, whether it be in defense or apology, he pulled his hand from her underwear, making her wince at the careless removal of his fingers, and reached for her face. She shouted, flailing beneath him, trying to keep him back enough that he couldn't strike her in return, but he only huffed angrily, pinning both hands back in place before yanking the necklace over her head.

She heard it clink off the surface of the bedside table before landing on the floor as he tossed it aside, and then he was prying her legs apart, using his knees to push her thighs up and open. When he leaned to the side to grab his belt off the end table, she struggled harder, again trying to cover her face, but instead of whipping it across her cheek like she was expecting, he used it to secure her hands to the headboard.

"Don't get pissed at me because I'm right," he said, leaning in until he was inches from her face.

"You said you'd stop talking," she spat. "So just shut up and get this over with."

"I said I'd be quiet if you gave my mouth something to do, but instead, you—"

Clary grimaced in rage, her lips practically curling back in a snarl as she strained forward, and before she could talk herself out of it, she pressed her mouth against his to cut him off.

The kiss was not soft, or sweet, or loving. It was hateful and furious, and for a second, Sebastian was still in his surprise, his lips unmoving as she craned her neck up to kiss him. But just as Clary was about to pull away, about to abandon her attempt at a bargain—a kiss to shut him up and get this moving—he opened his mouth and kissed her back just as hard.

It was all wet friction and teeth, barely enough time to breathe when they broke apart only to rearrange the angle of their mouths, and when Clary opened her eyes she saw Sebastian's were open too, thin with fury and lust, his brows furrowed. He pressed so hard into her that her head was forced into the mattress, his hands lifting her back just enough to allow his fingers to unclasp her bra and push it up her chest.

But his hands didn't move to her breasts, instead grabbing at the back of her neck, her hair, her jaw, anything that let him hold her face to his. Clary made a sound like a growl as she bit hard at his lower lip, and he choked on a gasp, and then all she could taste was copper and charcoal—some tainted variation of what human blood should taste like—as he bled into the kiss.

The split lip only made him more furious, more heated, and as she gnawed at the torn skin, as his tongue pressed into the corner of her mouth, his hands released her face to scramble for his boxers. As soon as he'd managed to shove them down his hips he was grabbing at her waist, pulling her legs up further and bending her in half between their torsos, only bothering to tug her shorts and underwear down to mid-thigh before positioning himself at her entrance with his hands.

Their mouths at last parted when he shoved in all at once, Clary breaking away to cry out, and Sebastian's blood dripped onto her neck as she threw her head back. He took the brief moment of separation to curse shortly, breathlessly—fuck—before resuming the vicious kiss as he thrust into her, beginning an equivalently brutal pace.

Clary was almost glad they were kissing, glad that Sebastian wasn't letting her up for air, because she could feel how loud she was being, could feel her vocal chords tearing on each rapid, ragged cry, and if it weren't for his mouth never letting the noises past her lips, she was certain she'd have woken every Endarkened in the building. With every snap of his hips Sebastian forced out those sounds—her pain and anger and lechery—and swallowed them like they were his last meal, like he was drowning and they were all the air that was left, like he was stranded in the desert and they were the last drops of water for miles around.

And the ferocity only grew as his teeth clacked against hers and his pelvis struck her with swift, bruising force, and Clary had to dig her heels into his back to try and minimize her bouncing off the bed. Her hands tugged wildly at the belt in an attempt to slip free—so she could grab hold of something to prevent being pounded through the mattress and bedframe and down into the first floor, or maybe to hit Sebastian again, she wasn't sure—until she gave up and took hold of one of the bars that made up the headboard.

She didn't realize the bed was making practically as much noise as she was until her hands curling around the carved branch stopped the frame from slamming against the wall, her knuckles taking the blows instead, getting smashed between the wood and drywall, until she could feel blood start to run down her wrists.

It only made Clary grip the headboard tighter, until she started to lose feeling in her fingers, her hands prickling and numb from the tightness of the belt and the weight of their bodies and the bed banging into them, and even then she didn't let go. In fact, her whole body was starting to lose feeling, the aching in her muscles fading, her skin so hot and sweaty and numb that she couldn't keep track of where Sebastian's hands even were, or which part of her body his fingers clung to.

The room became so heated that, when she dared to open her eyes, her vision spun and faded in and out, her head growing light and fuzzy. And then she suddenly remembered that even though her mouth was locked against Sebastian's that she should be breathing through her nose, and she gasped and grunted trying to get in air. When she still felt she couldn't get enough of a solid breath, she bit at Sebastian's tongue, and he at last released her, pulling back to take just as big a breath as she did.

Seems even demons needed oxygen.

He slowed his rhythm enough to allow them to catch their breaths, his movements becoming firm, rolling strikes that made her wince and arch her back at the depth they allowed him to reach, the two staring at each other, crazed and feral and disoriented.

If she'd hoped the furious speed at which things had moved so far would mean a speedy conclusion, she'd been overly optimistic. The reprieve didn't last long.

It only took a minute for Sebastian to start up again, and as he did he repositioned them, letting her left leg unfold and drop to the bed, moving to straddle it before pulling her right leg up and hooking her knee over his arm to force her hips to twist to the side. She made a horrible whimpering sound as she was made to rotate practically 90 degrees on his member, a sound that quickly turned to a shout as he pulled out and pushed back in at the new angle. And just like that they were back to the same rapid pace, Clary screaming with every thrust.

It was all so much—the stitching pain, the singeing heat, the numbness in her throat, the pressure pulling in and out of her stomach, the icy burn in her hands—every single sensation building on eachother and canceling out all the same. It was so much that it became nothing at all, and Clary became nothing at all, no thoughts or emotions, nothing but a compilation of millions of tiny, firing sensory neurons.

It was so much nothingness that she might have even forgotten it was Sebastian in bed with her, if not for the lingering bitter taste of his blood in her mouth and for the inhuman strength and stamina with which he moved.

The sex seemed to go on forever, never pausing, never slowing down, his hips snapping so quickly that the glistening sweat coating his pale chest flashed in the moonlight like scales, his fervor so great that she could hardly see him, or the expression on his face, even less attempt to decipher it. But she could hear him, his groaning and panting, the desperate breathy sounds that leaked from his throat.

Suddenly conscious of her own noises again, she threw her face to the side in an attempt to smother them, pressing her mouth against her arm, but it wasn't enough, not nearly enough, and her screams were so deafeningly loud to her own ears that she closed her eyes and bit down into her shoulder.

It worked, for a bit, the sounds turning to muted exhales through her teeth, but then she felt his free hand on her jaw, and he forced her away from her shoulder. Hooking his thumb on her bottom teeth, he pushed her mouth open, until the groans came freely again.

She opened her eyes to find him looking down at her, his own mouth open and panting, his lips crimson with blood, his chest heaving with the effort of continuing his pace, his hair as silver as she'd ever seen it. For a moment, it looked like he was going to say something, but the look passed quickly, returning to some mix of rage and pleasure. His mouth closed, jaw tightening, eyes darkening. He leaned further over her, bending the leg that had been pinned to his chest down and further deppeding himself inside of her, dropping all of his weight into the thrusts.

Clary didn't do it out of spite, or to intentionally hurt him—it wasn't a conscious decision, she didn't have any conscious thoughts—but when he began moving even harder at that angle, she shrieked and bit down on the thumb that had been holding her mouth open. Sebastian snarled, his other fingers digging hard into her jaw, but he didn't try to pull the digit away as she clenched down in an effort to withstand the pain.

The hand that had been holding her right leg dropped it, grabbing onto her hip and pressing it further into the mattress as he folded himself over her, her knee bent at her side and her waist flexed, as he moved faster, and faster still. When she couldnt take it any longer she released his now bloody thumb and screamed again, the sound broken into short, forced exhales of breath, and as soon as his hand was free he reached above her head.

As she felt his hand tracing up her throbbing wrists, she thought, for a moment, that he was going to undo the restraints, or try to intertwine their fingers, but instead Sebastian set his hand over her own, his fingers curling over hers that were still numbly clinging to the headboard so that now it was his knuckles that took the brunt of the force.

He dropped his head to her shoulder and moaned out stuttered, heated sounds, and she bit into the bulging muscle between his neck and shoulder and sobbed violently. He panted something by her ear, the exact words lost in the rush of the moment.

When he lifted his head away, she could see the already darkening bruise where she'd bitten by his neck, and she clenched her teeth hard.

His eyes locked on hers, bore into her empty soul, and then he grabbed at her hair and was kissing her again, and it was just as cruel as it was at the start.

Their lips and tongues clashed, and eventually, his pace went just slightly out of rhythm, and as it did he let go of her hair to shove his hand between her legs. She screamed when he touched her, the stimulation far too much, but Sebastian made sure they finished together anyway.

When she climaxed she was almost surprised it happened, because everything hurt, but she did, and Sebastian followed immediately after, swallowing her cries and fucking through both of their orgasms, pinning her convulsing body with his own. He broke the kiss on the final few thrusts, pushing her far past overstimulation, before finally, blessedly, falling still.

With a heavy sigh, he briefly let himself collapse on top of her before moving to prop his weight on his elbows as he peeled their bloody hands off the headboard.

Hyperventilating and lightheaded, Clary stared at the ceiling in a daze as Sebastian freed her hands. They dropped limply to the pillows, the pins and needles spreading up through her forearms, and her legs trembled as he pulled out and pulled up his boxers.

As he dropped down over her again, Sebastian picked up a rumpled, frizzy curl, and brought it to his lips, inhaling deeply, both of them still struggling to recover their breath.

They remained that way for a while, quiet save their panting, Clary still devoid of thought or emotion, Sebastian pressed close to her.

The sheets beneath her were damp, sticking uncomfortably to her skin, and although she still felt hot, the sweat on her chest began to chill, and she shivered. Pulling her numb arms up, she hugged her bare chest—she didn't even remember him pulling her bra off the rest of the way, but it was gone nonetheless.

A huge breath escaped her, her chest collapsing with it.

She felt entirely exhausted.

"Clary—" he began, his soft tone snapping her out of her daze, but she didn't want to hear whatever it was he wanted to say, so she turned away, pushing up enough to roll fully onto her side. Sebastian stiffened, letting go of the curl he'd been rolling between his fingers and sitting back to look her over.

When he spoke again, something teasing and distant and sarcastic dissolved whatever gentleness had been present seconds before. "Appears the pillows got blood on them anyway, huh?" he muttered with a laugh.

"…What?"

He didn't answer, continuing his own train of thought aloud. "Hell, you'd have thought I just lay with a vampire. One with awfully dull teeth at that," he added, rubbing at his bloody thumb, and a flush crept through her as she took in how awkward his tone sounded, and how disheveled he looked, his hair rumpled, his shoulder bruised with little teeth marks, his arm covered in scratches, his thumb and bottom lip bleeding, a handprint still just visible on his face.

Without thinking, Clary opened her mouth to apologize, and then very quickly shut it. She scoffed, opting for snark instead of anything placating. "So that's what hate sex is like."

Sebastian sighed. "You don't hate me, Clarissa—" he began and then stopped when he saw the look on her face. His expression turned sharp, and he leaned to the side to toss the belt on the floor and grab something from the end table drawer. When he moved back towards her, he scooped up her right hand, and she yelped as his gripped turned crushing, squeezing her busted knuckles under his fingers. Clary gasped and sat upright, grabbing at Sebastian's wrist as he twisted her hand over.

"Call it what you wish," he said blankly, producing his stele and bringing it to her forearm to mark an iratze. "But I do not hate you. You do, however, possess an unrivaled talent for getting on my nerves."

Clary frowned. His knuckles were just as bad, if not worse than hers, bruised and bloody from where he'd covered her hand with his own before picking up the pace. He looked far more beat up than she did.

"...I'm told that's common between siblings," she murmured, pulling her hand away as it began to heal.

Sebastian said nothing.

"If all of this is just from getting on your nerves, I don't want to know what you do to people you hate," Clary said, and though it was meant to be a dig at his temper, something to mock him, she didn't feel any better when he looked her dead in the eyes on his reply.

"No. You don't."

Author's Note: The upcoming chapters are going to have a bit more plot, and perhaps a bit less dark, disgusting Clabastian smut, in case you all are getting tired of that. Hang in there, I promise I have an idea of how this story is going to conclude...it just might not be any time soon. I have a lot that I want to cover.