Disclaimer: I don't own anything by Cassandra Clare. I hardly even own myself.

Jordan Fairchild

Jordan leans back in his leather desk chair, watching Clary as she sketches. It's their first day back at home after the honeymoon. She sits in the center of his bed with her legs crossed, glancing out the window every few moments as if she can commit the image to memory. She gets so lost in her art sometimes, and he would give anything to follow her.

"You're staring," she gravels, her eyes still fixed on the page with a drawing slowly coming to life on it.

Jordan crosses the room, his bare feet landing heavily on the carpet. He sits at the edge of his bed and peeks over her shoulder at her project. "Are you okay?" he asks gently, putting his hand on her back.

Clary closes her sketchbook and moves to wrap her arms around his waist, resting her cheek against his chest. "Why wouldn't I be okay?"

"It was Sebastian's night again," he reminds her, lightly tracing his fingers over the marks on her skin, careful not to apply enough pressure to hurt the tender areas. She's always bruised easily, and he hates it. He can never tell if Sebastian is being especially malicious, or if he's just not careful enough with her. Jordan has always known that she's fragile, and he's always treated her tenderly.

It has been over a month, and every time Clary shares Sebastian's bed she comes back with new bruises.

She sighs, pulling her sleeves down to cover up. "I'm fine. He's been a lot nicer about it lately. I think he's found his chill."

"You still have bruises," Jordan growls. "Why won't you let me hurt him? He needs to stop doing this."

"Because we all have to live here?" she reasons, mentioning it like a question. "And because he's still my husband, whether you like it or not."

Jordan scoffs. "None of us want him here."

"I know, but he is here, and we have to live with it. He's getting better. He'll keep getting better. I promise." Clary rubs soothing circles on his back with her fingertips.

Jordan visibly deflates, feeling defeated. "I wish it was just us."

"Me too," Clary admits.

Jace Fairchild

It's been over a little over a month since Jace moved in, and he is finally starting to feel at home here. Though the weather still sucks balls.

Clary spends most days with Jordan, but Jace has managed to sneak in a few precious moments with her. Early morning walks along the shoreline, and making breakfast together on the days that Jordan and Sebastian sleep in. He wishes there was more time to get to know her, but he understands that Clary's time is spread thin with 3 men competing for her attention when she only truly loves one of them. One day, he hopes she'll love him too. So far though, they still haven't been together intimately, and he's pretty sure they only like each other. He can't seem to figure out how to get things started, and something always gets in the way.

It's his night with her, and things seem to be going well for the first time. She is in his bed, hands running down his bare chest, their lips pressed firmly together. Jace gasps when she begins rubbing him through his pants. Her shirt is on the floor, and his fingers are placed gently in her soft red curls.

Clary's hands reach for his belt, and he hears the metal clanking together as she tosses it onto his bedroom floor. He can feel the heat of her body against his, and he knows that she can feel him, hard and warm against her leg. He finds his heart beating faster every time she moves expertly against him. Clary's tongue snakes past his lips, flicking against his like silk. She takes his hand, moving it between her legs, using her other hand to undo the button to his jeans.

And that's when he abruptly pushes her away.

She looks up at him with emerald eyes full of confusion. "What's wrong?" she worries.

He begins to panic. What is wrong? "I, uh, I forgot something really important. I have to go. Sorry. Don't wait up." And with no further explanation, he leaves. Just like that, he is out the door, walking down on the icy sidewalk, looking up at the stars, wondering why he's such a screwup.

Sebastian Fairchild

Sebastian gazes out his bedroom window. It faces the front yard. The sun is setting over the tree line across the street. He has never been much for sunsets—they are a highly overrated daily occurrence—but in a house where everyone cringes when he enters the room, Sebastian has learned to find entertainment in even the most mundane things. Still, he finds himself craving the company of another human being. He's tried to avoid bruising Clary, partially because he's hoping the other guys will hate him a little less and he'll spend fewer moments alone, wondering how his life turned out this way. But it's mostly because Clary doesn't glare at him afterward if he makes a conscious effort to consider her wellbeing. He's not sure why that matters to him, but somehow it does.

The last time they were together he even kissed her sweetly, trying to make the moment more romantic, but eventually got angry at her refusal to kiss him back. Sebastian never makes the best decisions when he's angry. That's what got Clary to hate him in the first place. When he hit Jonathan, he wasn't thinking Clary is going to be angry. He was thinking that menace is making a move on my woman.

He doesn't think of Aline that way anymore. At least, he tries not to.

He knows he should have kissed her outside the hotel room the one time she seemed to want him to, but he also knows if you are well behaved once, people expect you to be well behaved all the time.

If you do good, people expect good.

He can hear Clary's voice coming from down the hall, calling after Jace and asking him what's wrong. There are heavy footsteps on the staircase and a loud slam of the back door. Sebastian smirks when he sees Jace speed walking down the sidewalk like his life depends on it. He finds himself actually smiling when a small knock lands on his bedroom door.

"Clary?" he calls, knowing it must be her. No one else would be visiting him in his room.

She enters slowly as if she is unsure if she actually wants to come in or not. "Hello Sebastian," she greets him tremulously.

Sebastian points out the window toward the street. "Where's Jace going in such a hurry?"

Clary shrugs, fixing her gaze on the floor. "He always finds an excuse not to sleep with me. I don't think he's into me. Maybe he thinks I'm ugly."

His eyes roll down over her mostly exposed body, and he bites his lip. "I don't think that's it, Clary."

She narrows her eyes and folds her arms over her chest. "Why did I even come to you?"

"Because he left you all hot and bothered," Sebastian accuses as he moves away from the window to back her up against the wall. "And now you need someone to take care of it for you."

"I could have gone to Jordan for that," she argues.

Sebastian lifts her and carries her toward the bed, half expecting her to resist, but she doesn't. This is the first time she's come to him willingly, not just because it's his turn, and he is eager to get started. "You could have, but you didn't. You came to me."

Clary bites her lip nervously. "I'm not entirely sure why I didn't go to him instead."

"Because you aren't going to disrespect the man you love," Sebastian reasons.

"What do you mean?" she puzzles.

"Jordan doesn't want to have sex with you just because some other guy got you all worked up. I, on the other hand, have no problem doing what Jace couldn't. And because you can hate me all you like, but the sex is good and we both know it."

Clary nods a confirmation, openly acknowledging it for the first time.

Clary Fairchild

As much as I hate to admit it, I often think about his hands wrapped around my throat and the taste of lemon on his tongue. Sex with Sebastian is like cracking your knuckles—people will never approve of it. They'll tell you to stop, but you want to do it. You want the sound, the sensation, the relief and yes, the pain. People will tell you that you're hurting yourself, but you don't care about that. You don't care about that at all. When you are old, the joint pain will be worth it.

That's why I pull his naked body closer to mine. I moan his name, and he growls mine back at me. For the first time since we've been married, I want him. Not Jace or even Jordan, but Sebastian. It doesn't make any sense, and it all happens before my brain can catch up with me. Jace left me feeling insecure and exposed, and yeah, pretty damn turned on. But why Sebastian? Why does our hatred for one another only make it better?

I finally understand that saying I keep hearing: "fuck me like you hate me."

And Sebastian does. He always does. But it's somehow different than all the other times. Yes, we hate each other. But this time...I'm not annoyed that it's happening. I didn't dread it or hope he would be asleep before I came in.

"Fuck, Clary!" he breathes the words into my neck, sending a shiver down my spine. My hips tilt up to meet his, and I try to do all of the things I know Jordan likes, hoping Sebastian will like them too. "Oh, God," he whispers, his sexy voice driving me mad with desire. "This is way better when you want it."

"Who knew?" I say jokingly.

"I didn't think you would be any good."

My eyebrows come together. "Are you trying to have a conversation with me, mid-sex?"

He slams into me again. Hard. "Yeah, I am." He does it again. And again. And again. Until I no longer know which body parts are mine, and which are his. I only know that sex is not what I thought it was. The reasons and the emotions behind it are not black and white. Sometimes it's about expressing love, and sometimes it's only lustful. Sometimes it's sweet, and sometimes it's angry.

Sex is weird. Believe me, I'm as surprised as you are.