I'll love you then too. -Clace- shadowhunters, the mortal instruments

-7- Heavenly Hunger

Lowkey hate the last chapter. How can I have changed tense three times? Wow. -AJ

A cool winter breeze glided past them, like the delicate slip of silk. Jace's left hand, emblazoned with the bold lines of the voyance rune, was in Clary's right. Her head half leant on his shoulder as they easily slid through the swarming streets of Brooklyn. "Why the glamour?" Clary asked. It seemed unnecessary. "Because. I want us to be alone."

It wasn't long before they approached the docks, and where clary had once recognised the neon sign of the Jade Wolf, now hung a blue wooden sign with the word taki's sprawled across it in a bright, fiery red. She felt Jace squeeze her hand, and they stepped through the door, with a soft ting of a bell. They were soon approached by Maia, wielding a menu and hugs. "Any seat you'd like!"
The salad, Clary had to admit, was fantastic. "I'm so glad you like it!" Maia sung and bounded away from the table. "I've never seen Maia so happy. At least not since Jordan." Jace observed. "Though you do tend to have that effect" clary smiled, and realised suddenly that she had never been this happy.
-
Jace's room was eerily familiar, like some place she had visited in a dream. Of course she knew the room well, but it still seemed distant: clouded. The black bedsheets reminded her of the few nights her and Jace had spent together, and the broken mirror spoke of his anger that only she could calm. "As the one modelling here," Jace began, breaking her out of her thoughts "I request to keep my clothes on, lest you swoon and I have to catch you."
Clary's light laugh filled the room. "Okay, as long as you promise to stay still."
"Promise!"

The second the pencil touched the page, it was as though their love were spiralling through the lines, and she mapped the contours of his muscles under his shirt, the shine of his golden hair, the softness that only shows on his face when they were alone. She shaded the space by his neck where his pulse throbbed, and along his collarbone where his sun kissed skin disappeared under the black fabric. Then she drew the chain around his neck, the one that held the Herondale ring. She stepped back for a moment, and looked at her drawing, and was satisfied. Then she looked at Jace, she saw him now like she had before, and the room came back into focus. She whispered the only words that came to mind "I want you,"

Jace's breath caught; he hadn't been expecting that. He figured the no moving rule was revoked, and he padded lightly over to her, every muscle in his body tense. "Clary," he breathed, and placed his fingers lightly under her chin. She looked at him like he was the only light in the void, and he wrapped his arms around her. "Jace." He felt her breath on his neck, and knotted his fingers in her hair to pull her closer. Her arms snaked around his neck, and her body shifted so that she was on her toes. Their lips were millimetres apart, the ghost of a kiss they both needed. It was Jace who moved now, colliding his lips with hers and kissing her with all the ferocity of his anger and love and sadness and joy, kissing her like it might be that last time, kissing her like she was the only thing that existed in this world, like if he stopped they would both fade away and never touch again. And touch was all he wanted. Clary was all he felt. The curve of her waist under his hands. Her soft hair swirling around his fingers. The strength of her arms as she held herself against him and pushed him stumbling backwards onto the bed, and landed on top of him. He could taste her, sweet and salty and warm. She tasted like home. And she felt like home. And he had never felt so safe and so vulnerable.
Her hands were brave and exploring, gliding up his arms and tracing along his collarbone with feather lightness. He pulled her closer, and she knitted her hands in his shirt and pulled at it. Eventually it was off, and somehow her own tank top was off and she could feel his hot skin against her, and he felt like fire. His hands were flames on her arms, her waist, her neck, and his lips burned her in a way the made her want more, more Jace. And there would never be enough. She wanted more. "More" she mumbled against his neck, where she sucked and bit his skin softly. He groaned, and he felt the vibration in his chest like a shockwave through her body, and in the moments that followed she let him pull her under him and take control entirely.
He kissed her all over: her face, her lips, her neck, the scar that was etched there, her chest just above her bra, and her stomach as he pulled at the button of her jeans. His fingers were fumbling, and he noticed that his hands were shaking as they do rarely did.
After that it was all a blur of skin and kisses and warmth, and clary. Just clary. There would only ever be clary.

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