bloodofithuriel | (no subject)

( thankfully she'd been given a room closer to the entry, hidden away from the others scattered about the home as fittingly grand as magnus. if anything, it offered them some semblance of privacy, a veil between the others that could easily fracture, what with a shadowhunter and a warlock none too far. it sends a tug of heat beneath her navel, the idea of having to keep themselves quiet enough that they won't be detected—not that the rest of the bunch were entirely innocent, but on the off chance those sounds might be recognized.

when she catches sight of him in the hall, first as a shadow and then characteristically with no more than a pair of sweats, she doesn't hide the way hues wander, how it leaves teeth chewing at the lower pillow of her lip in anticipation. they could both readily be described as bold when it came to this sort of thing, but she can't help but to revel in how different his approach is, now. how many times he's made his way to her before, absent of that hunger.

he brushes in close to her, places those hands at her hips and there's nothing stopping the way exhale slips from her lips without her consent, how pulse thunders deafeningly beneath her chest.

she reaches out to ravel him in closer, yet, so their fronts ghost together, that maddening spell between them—how much she had to learn of this side of him—all too gratifying to break just yet. she's every bit intending to draw it out until one of them breaks, to test the waters until she can't. she hums, a velvety sound, eyes ticking down to that notorious smirk of his. nails give a bite after scoring to his lower back, digging in just enough for him to be aware of their presence. )

Can't sleep?

( it's a tut, taunting. )

[ Jace makes a low sound in the back of his throat when he feels her nails in his back and his smile just grows a little more.

He's spent almost half of his life sparring with Isabella Lightwood. This is a dance he knows. He dips his head, lips almost brushing against the shell of her ear, but not quite, his voice a bare whisper of sound, knowing she'd hear him perfectly fine. ]

Hard to sleep when I'm getting sent scandalous pictures by a beautiful woman in the middle of the night.

[ He steps in a little closer, not quite pinning her to the wall, but he could if he shifted just the slightest bit. He makes a low, rumbling sound of pure male appreciation in his throat. ]

You look good, Izzy.

( it's no less than infuriating that she's already so taken, dizzied by the idea of having him, touching him, tasting him when he's been so close all along. when she's watched him skirt off on his romps with other women and never batted an eye. he leans in and lashes flutter to a heavy close, the scent of him enveloping her, and when those lips ghost against her ear her chest gives the slightest bow from that wall reactively, causing that silk to slip all the further down her arm.

there's a grin that paints her mouth, sure he doesn't need to see it to hear it laden on her tongue. she could toy on about how the message hadn't been intended for him—but that was neither here nor there. he'd gotten it, and here they were.

he doesn't need words when he sounds like that, when he husks up to her, talks to her with a grumble that's so often reserved for someone else, anyone else. )

Do I? ( it's nothing more than a baiting, using one hand to guide his palm lower, along the curve of her backside just as she hitches her leg up, thigh brushing his. she manages to tip her own crown so she can graze lips at the edge of his jaw, that scruff brushing her cheek, and she whispers: )

Imagine how I feel.

Please. You know you do. Confidence has never been a problem for you, Izz.

[ It was one of the things he liked about her. Izzy knew who and what she was, and she (mostly) didn't care what others thought of her. It was a pretty attractive trait, one that they used to share.

The way she guided his hand lower though, it made a surge of heat flush over his skin and her thigh sliding up his made him growl very softly, and his hands moved, shifted, and then he was lifting her, settling her right against his hips and pushing up against the wall to balance both of them, as his hands kept her safe against him, where she could feel exactly what her touch and scent was doing to him. He'd broken first, and he didn't even care, really. ]

Izzy.

[ Her name was a guttural sound in his throat. ]

Sure. If the universe operated on logic alone. Besides. Most Downworlders only have half demon-blood. I've got no idea what Valentine's experiments did to the composition of mine.

[ He sighs, face twisting into a rueful grimace. ]

The Nephilim are probably part of it. Doesn't mean they've got it entirely wrong.

[ It's a grudging admission. Honestly, Jace is pretty sure that even by Duplicity standards, he's probably pretty twisted. But he really hasn't been here long enough to know how wrong he is. ]

( he isn't wrong. isabelle's always been comfortable with the physical, the one to lure another closer regardless of whether they were shy in their want or demanding; she had a counter for it all. but here with him, she can't help but to feel as if she's been stripped of that, as if there's far more significance to it all, and part of her knows there is. that this wasn't just anyone pinning her against that wall. but it doesn't stop her. if anything, it spurs her further.

a tiny sound escapes her as he lifts her effortlessly from the floor, hips slotting neatly together where she can feel that stiffening line of him beneath that thick cotton layer, temple pressing against his as she winds an arm about his shoulder, the other cupping along his neck. he says her name and she has to bite back a moan, crazed by the way he says it—like a warning, a surging impatience, and that's exactly how she wants him.

she writhes a little, thighs pulsing at either side of him as she huffs, thumb pressing insistently beneath his jaw, instructing his gaze to lift in order to meet with her own. their mouths are close, close enough that she can feel his breath colliding with hers. )

Touch me, Jace.

( tone speaks for her: please. )

Would you like to find out? A blood sample and a spell and I could tell you how much of your blood is demon blood.

[ He does not actually remember how much demon blood the Jace from his world was given. He thinks none? Ithuriel was involved, and he's relatively sure the one raised with demon blood was the other child, Sebastian or Jonathan.

Either way, Ragnor doesn't like the assumption that demon blood necessarily corrupts. ]

[ Jace blinks and something like desperate, terrible hope flickers over his expression before it gets overridden by fear. Because what if the answer is worse than he already expects.

It wouldn't be. He's actually heavily angel-blooded, but he doesn't know that, and it would bring up so many more questions for him. ]

That's... probably not a good idea.

[ He isn't sure he wants to know just how bad it is. ]

Sorry. I sound like an asshole, probably.

[ Jace smiles a little, unable to help it. He's reassured that she's as obviously affected as he is, and he braces her carefully, between his arm and the wall and his thighs, so he can free one hand, lifting it to trace his fingertips slowly down the column of her throat.

His touch isn't light, it's deliberate and slow and tactile, making firm contact with her skin. Izzy isn't delicate. He doesn't have to worry about breaking her. ]

Yeah? Like this?

[ He's teasing her, obviously, but with intent, because his fingertips are already cresting over her collarbone, and working to nudge the other side of her robe off the unbared shoulder. ]

Look at you, Izz. So fucking pretty.

[ It's a groan of sound, as he drags two fingertips down her sternum, tracing over the rune there. ]

I don't fault you for not wanting to know. But I don't think you should make any decisions based on anything Morgenstern said.

[ The man's been dead for years now and Ragnor still has nothing but contempt for him. ]

If anything affected your personality, it was him being a psychopath, not whatever he got up to before you were born.

( it's one thing that invigorates her: if there's anyone that knows what she can handle, what she can take, it's him. how many nights had they wandered into one another when sleep couldn't find them, just to take out their frustrations training? she'd told him since she was a little girl not to hold back, that she wasn't fragile—nothing has changed.

she savors the way it feels, those fingers carding down her throat, keeps thoughts from wandering as to how it might feel to have his palm wrapped around it, steadying her with a hold there. she burns for him, aches, and she's not shy to show it, giving a slow drag of teeth along her lower lip as he explores, threatens to leave the upper half of that robe slipping free entirely if it weren't for that bow tied in place, his torso pressed to hers. )

Mm. It's a start.

( a wicked tone as touch draws between the valley of her breasts, responding by threading fingers up his nape and into blond locks, giving a sharp tug—she knew full and well what he could handle, too. ankles link behind his back, using the hold as leverage to pull his hips to hers, a makeshift rut, nose stumbling against his.

he says he's not good with words, but she likes hearing him—especially like this. when she speaks again it's low, a hushed tone for only them to hear. )

Tell me what you want.

[ Ironically, standing in the hallway of Magnus' house with his adoptive sister pinned up against the wall and her legs around his hips is probably the cleanest he's felt since he got to this ridiculous place. This is something he knows how to do. Something he can accomplish without doubt and loathing creeping in on his brain.

He flicks at that tiny bow with his fingertips, contemplating just yanking it the hell apart right now, his eyes flicking down to her breasts and then back up to her as she tugs on his hair, making him grunt and smile in response. ]

I want to be inside you right the fuck now. I want to hear what noises you make when I fill you up. I want to see if I can just fuck you right against this wall and if you can stay quiet enough to not wake the house. I want to make you scream the house down. I want Isabelle. I burn.

[ His words are harsh and fierce, and he leans in and bites the plump bottom lip she's been worrying at with her teeth before he finally, finally kisses her. He isn't shy about it. He's demanding. Hungry. Taking whatever she'll give him. ]

( she knows what he's thinking when he gives a faint tease at that bow, and he's roused her to the point she's reckless enough to welcome the thought of him stripping her right there, taking her where anyone could see if they so much as walked down those stairs and glanced toward the entry. there's nothing more satisfying than a man that listens, that indulges exactly what she asks, to tell her, with no restraint. and it's only all the more promising as to what he could deliver, that all of that coy arrogance came with far more than enough to back it up.

she's sure he can see the flush of her cheeks, the way it splotches across her chest, and when he snares at her lip with his own teeth all of that careful, calculative control she prides herself on crumbles, and he demands his mouth with hers just in time for her to hide a moan within it. she isn't shy to pry lips apart with a curl of her tongue, and while she's not exactly in the best position to tug those sweatpants down just enough, to let him feel for himself that there was nothing keeping her from him beneath that silk, she can urge him with her actions, with her own words.

that kiss breaks messily, lips still stumbling together, glossed and blushed with each other and she nips at the uppermost brim, drawing in a sharp breath as she winds hips within his hold again, trying for what she can to chase that friction. )

Fuck me, Jace. ( a demand that mirrors his kiss, and as if he needs to hear it, as if to goad him: ) Don't be gentle.

Because he’s a liar. I know. I just... he’s got no reason to lie about this. Especially after going to such lengths to make me think my father was dead.

[Oh Valentine has reason after reason, but he DID raise Jace and he knows where all his buttons and insecurities lay. He had weeks, months before Jace arrived in Dup to amp the boy up to the edge.

Jace’s smile doesn’t reach his eyes. ]

Yeah. And being related to him doesn’t help either, I’m sure.

How much have you told Alec and Magnus?

[ He has every intention of updating Magnus whether Jace likes it or not, but it's probably healthier if Jace explains matters to Alec himself. ]

About being Valentine’s son, and demon blooded? All of it. About the... sex stuff? Just. A little of it. It’s not exactly the kind of conversation I’ve ever had with either of them.

[ Jace shrugs uncomfortably. ]

Alec knows most of the things about, uh, growing up with my father. He’s the first person who made me realize his methods weren’t... the usual.

[ Abuse, in other words. ]</small]

You Nephilim are so repressed.

[ Ragnor isn't very sure of how to help. He doubts he can even start addressing all of Jace's issues in one conversation, especially when the boy's already on edge. ]

No one will judge your kinks here.

[ Jace isn't doing a lot of thinking at this point, the heat between them flaring into flames of passion. Want is overriding most of his thought process, especially when she kisses him back like she means it, the way she rubs right up against him and he swears he can feel the heat of her even through the material of the sweats. He swears under his breath and his mouth moves against her throat, right under her ear, nipping her skin and then kissing the sting away. ]

Right here? Just like this?

[ It's less him questioning what she wants and more making sure this is exactly what she wants. Especially in this place, with someone as important to him as Izzy is, consent was something he would absolutely demand.

Even as he asks it however, his fingers flick back to that ridiculous bow, and tugs it loose, baring her body to his hungry eyes, making him growl under his breath. Fuck. He knew Izzy was gorgeous, but... Angel. ]

Edited 2021-04-05 19:01 (UTC)

[ Jace snorted an amused sound but doesn't argue the point. He can't really. Of course he can't. ]

The Law is the Law is the blah, blah, blah?

[ Jace tries for funny, but it kind of falls flat. ]

Yeah. Magnus and Alec said the same, but I kind of have a hard time believing it. Some of them are... out there. It wouldn't be a thing really, but Alec said the city has a way of outing your secrets, so. I feel like there's a countdown clock over my head.

( that curse paints a smirk across her lips, and it dawns on her how little she knows of him like this—the sounds he made, what octave his throat favored, what it took to drive him over that fevered pitch. as it is, with stamina runes traced along each of their skin, they certainly had quite the playing field ahead of them to find out. his teeth claim that sweet spot beneath her ear and her shoulder curls upward, lithe fingers tangling in dirty blond strands at back of his crown, keeping a stern grip.

if there was any part of her that felt this would break them, that it wasn't something they could come back from, she'd of stopped herself before he'd even made it to that room. and as much as she revels in the idea of him tangled in those sheets with her, he'd presented an enticing challenge she's hardly willing to walk away from. her mouth finds the brim of his ear, letting each of her shoulders raise just enough to help that silk fold, caressing in a whisper of fabric down along her back.

the slight chill of the room nips at exposed flesh, and when he growls she snickers, a playful rouse of a sound, crescent of her nails carving a trail down along his chest, his abdomen, pausing only when their bodies connect. )

Right here. ( and if she had a means of tugging those sweatpants down, she'd of done so already. ) Something tells me I'm going to have to keep you quiet.

Do you need a conversation on good BDSM etiquette? Do you know safe words?

[ THAT is a conversation he can tackle right now. Much easier than trying to entangle the mess that is Valentine's everything. ]

Jace groans again as he sees that fabric slide down off her shoulders and exposes her form to him. Even if the half shadow of the dim hallway, his vision has no problem in tracing her curves and valleys. The tug on his hair makes him growl again, and he rocks against her, one last tease before he gives her what she wants.

His voice is hoarse but quiet, for the moment. A dark promise of her getting exactly what she asked for.

Whatever m'lady wishes, she gets.

She feels him lift her, shifts, and those stupid sweatpants drop well below his thighs. He shifts her once again and then the blunt tip of his cock is pressing right against her, and with one last searching glance at her face, as if checking in, he rocks forward, pressing into her with a sure thrust of his hips, settling her flush against him and pressed back into the wall.

[ Jace blinks at the sudden change in conversation and then looks both confused and vaguely horrified at the idea. ]

BD-What etiquette? Safe words for what? Ragnor, there are words coming out of your mouth but they make no sense.

[ Sweet summer child. Poor, poor Ragnor. ]

Do you know how to have safe sex?

[ Even as he asks, Ragnor is sure he doesn't. ]

... hell, will I need charts?

[ Jace's eyes go very wide and he almost starts to stutter before he gets himself to calm down. ]

Angel, Ragnor, I know about condoms, Robert Lightwood gave me this talk when I was fourteen!

[ He'd tried anyways, and then Maryse had given him the actual non-stammering, factual version later. ]

No! No charts. We don't need charts. We don't have to talk about this. Like, at all. Good! I'm good!

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i'm damning myself with this tbh

at least we're damned together? XD

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