Her Brother and Her Father

Chapters 5-8

Clary wakes to a dull pain still throbbing through her back.  She can tell that the wounds are healed but they are still extremely tender and feel as fragile as a newborn’s skin.  She sits up on the bed and looks over to see Jonathan sprawled out next to her, his back covered in his black blood and whips marks cut deep into his skin.  He must have crashed before he dressed his wounds.

The least Clary could do was clean him up.  Besides he was soaking the mattress.  Therefore, she carefully gets up off the bed and walks over to the bathroom to pick up some damp cloths.  Sitting on the bedside, Clary gently dabs at the glowing wounds, trying to clean away the dark black of her brother’s blood.  She would use an iratze but apparently before Jonathan passed out he hid his stele.

Clary continues wiping at the ugly wounds, staining the white towel black.  She returns to the bathroom and rummages around for bandages.  Opening a deep drawer she finds a roll of white bandages and some gauze. Walking back over to her brother she places the end of the roll at the top of his back and wraps it around his chest.  She has to bury her hand under his body to bring the bandage around his chest and it makes the beati rune pulse to her annoyance, she quickly pulls away, finished.

Why did I do that? She asks herself.  She’s supposed to hate him… but seeing him lay there dripping black blood onto his sheets, grimacing in pain every time he took too deep a breath.  She couldn’t not do something; he was her brother after all, no matter how much she denied it.

He still whipped her though, whipped her with what looked like no remorse, no regret.  Maybe he had even enjoyed it.  The thought makes her want to throw up.  How could someone enjoy whipping a person?  Enjoy the sensation of the whip digging into the victim’s skin and watch the blood well and spill over.

Deep in thought she doesn’t see Jonathan’s arm come up and wrap around her waist, dragging her down on the bed with him.  He moves her underneath him as she struggles against the faint pain of her back and rune on her collarbone flaring with Jonathan’s touch.

He leans down and plants a deep kiss on her mouth. After what Clary thought was too long he draws back and whispers, “Thank you, sweet sister.”

He kisses her neck and moves down her chest that she now realizes is bare save her bra, Jonathan had ripped off her shirt while cleaning her wounds.  “You’re not welcome Jonathan.  You whipped me and I don’t care if you did heal me,” Clary says, straining against the powerful waves of pleasure that Jonathan’s touch is provoking.

“I did what needed to be done so that our idiot father doesn’t get suspicious,” Jonathan says soothingly as his hands work down her naked torso.

What does that mean?  Valentine would get… Clary tries to form words in her head but Jonathan’s hand teasing in her pants is making it hard to concentrate.  The only thing keeping her anchored to reality is the dull throb in her back, from her whips scars the ones Jonathan gave her. 

Still weak from being her punishment Clary can do little against Jonathan toying with her.  He explores her, all the while pressing against her spots, making the coli in her stomach turn harshly, causing a moan to escape.

“Jonathan…” she takes a deep breath, “Jonathan, not now.  I would at least… like to… mmm… get out of bed for more than two minutes.”

Jonathan brings his mouth back up to hers, pressing his soft, sure lips to her tender ones and eliciting one final moan he pulls back, bringing Clary up to sit in his lap.

“Alright,” he says, still kissing her neck slowly, “To be continued.  The next time you step in this room, I won’t be so gentle.”  With a final kiss he pulls away, leaving Clary panting on the bed.