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This is just something I started because I'm way too into Dominic Sherwood's portrayal of Jace from "Shadowhunters" and The Mortal Instruments. It's set kind of early on in the canon, because there was a certain situation Jace got into that just set a fire under my imagination. I couldn't leave it alone and waste that perfect potential for something I needed to see happen to this perfect boy. I'll definitely be continuing this, but I figured I'd post what I had so far, partly as incentive for myself to keep writing, as it's been a while since I've done that on a regular basis. I hope you guys enjoy. It's my first time writing something like this in about ten years, so I apologise if I'm a little rusty these days. --- -- - "Remember tonight... for it is the beginning of always." --- -- - Jace hadn't slept well. Which wasn't surprising in the least, considering his predicament. He was in a stone cell, deep beneath the Silent City, and worse, he was cuffed quite securely to an iron railing in the wall that had already proven itself more than capable of standing up to whatever the young Shadowhunter could do to it. The bones of his wrists ached, the flesh stung where he'd scraped himself raw trying to break his bonds, trails of dried blood flaking and itching down his hard-muscled forearms to the elbows. He wasn't even sure how the hell he'd managed to fall asleep at all, though it no doubt had nothing to do with comfort and everything to do with him being utterly exhausted by the seemingly ceaseless flood of trouble that had swept over them all since Valentine's reemergence from whatever shadows had hidden him away for the last fifteen years. Even the irrepressible Jace had been truly worn thin by recent events, much as he would have hated to admit it even to himself. And as if matters couldn't get any worse, another problem was rapidly making itself known to the spent Nephilim, one which made him groan audibly despite there being no-one around to hear him, let alone do anything to assist him. Jace had to pee. He'd been vaguely aware that this was going to be an issue since he first started trying to work at his cuffs, but he had pushed the thought aside brusquely, not wanting to think too hard about it. But now, he didn't really have the option to ignore it. He was still on his knees, slumped slightly sideways into the wall he was tethered to, with almost no room to move and his hands stuck well out of reach of his pants. He knew exactly where this was heading and he cursed several times under ragged breath. There was no point even in standing, as he knew that would only lead to more of his pants ending up wet when the inevitable happened. It was still difficult to think in those terms, though. At least there was one up side to his solitude; no-one would be witness to his humiliation. That still didn't exactly have him looking forward to this, but as long as nobody else knew about it he supposed he could live with it. Nevertheless, no matter how desperately he might need to let go, he was certainly in no hurry to do it. The young Shadowhunter fought against himself for subjective hours, it seemed, even as his rapidly diminishing rational thought scolded from an increasingly muffled point deep in the back of his head that surely it had only been minutes, and he could assuredly hold on much longer. Wishful thinking? Maybe. He squirmed against the cuffs, knees grinding on the rough, uneven stone of the floor. The ache in those knees, even through the sturdy material of his gear, was a welcome distraction, so Jace leaned back harder to pull the cruel edge of the cuffs into his wrists again. Fresh blood welled under the harsh metal and Jace let out a shuddering breath. Warmth trickled down his arms as he panted in pain and concentration... and down his thighs. Swearing roughly, he doubled over at the waist in sudden panic, exerting every effort to stop himself, to cut short the embarrassing flow. Really, had he thought things through, he would have known there was no point in stopping it, but he couldn't help himself. He hadn't been able to help it when he had started leaking uncontrollably, yet he also couldn't help but fight it, either. As if Jace could ever just give in to anything. Even his own body. His breath coming in wracking sobs now, but the pressure blissfully abated enough to control, he slumped back against the cold wall... and tried to pretend he didn't actually feel somehow inexplicably better than he had at any other point since being locked down here to rot in forgotten seclusion beneath the earth.
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