Work Text:
At exactly five thirty, Izzy wakes up to the sound of Clary's roommate warbling in the shower, separated from them only by an atrociously thin wall.
"You can't say she isn't punctual," Clary mumbles, pressing back against Izzy. She's not wrong; every time Izzy sleeps over on a Thursday night, they always wake up to the same sound.
"There are definitely some other things I'd like to say about her," Izzy replies, tightening her arm around Clary's waist and kissing her soulmark, which rests at the base of her neck.
(Izzy's happens to be right between her breasts, which brought about hordes of annoying and downright gross comments when she was in high school, but she definitely doesn't mind when Clary gives it attention.)
While her roommate continues to sing (or rather, screech), Clary's fingers dance over where Izzy's hand is resting on her stomach and gently push it down towards her hip in a silent question.
"What kind of dreams were you having?" Izzy teases, burying a yawn into the back of Clary's shoulder while she drifts her hand a little lower, under the waistband of Clary's shorts.
"Nothing like that," Clary answers with the barest huff of a laugh. "But an orgasm will put me back to sleep."
"Good point," Izzy concedes, delving her fingers into Clary's underwear. "Just don't fall asleep before I make you come."
(Thankfully, they manage to stay awake until they've both come.
The sleep that comes after that is nothing less than glorious.)