This work contains triggering elements that some people would most certainly see as dub-con. If you think that anything warned about in the summary may trigger you, please scroll to the author's note at the end, where I will carefully outline what those triggers may be. If you have any hesitation, please don't read this- it completely isn't my intention to trigger someone unduly.
Jareth the Goblin King looked over his throne room, and tilted his head. It was an unusual world that he lived in; even for faerie. The fey were naturally drawn along strict lines—rules, regulations. Their interactions with the human world were bound by certain laws that could not be broken. The fey could not tell lies—they could talk until they had successfully convinced a person that the sky was green and the grass was blue—that it rained up and the sun rose from the west—but they could not tell a lie. He was as incapable of passing a falsehood through his lips as any other of his kind.
In some ways, he and his kingdom were exactly like any other of his kind. Jareth could not lie; he could not be near large amounts of steel—though his status as a monarch rendered it mostly harmless to him in small amounts; provided that nothing unfortunate happened (like being stabbed by it, for instance). He could not take a mortal to his realm without permission—though that was where the grey area started.
The goblin kingdom existed to run along the lines of magic. Where the fey were naturally drawn into sections; light and dark, summer and winter, Seelie and Unseelie, the goblins were both light and dark. The Labryinth could be any season that she so chose, and he was not reliant on the weather for his source of power. While Titania, Queen of Summer, was strongest in the summer months, and Auberon, King of Winter, weakened in Titania's time and strengthened when the ground froze and the dew on trees turned to frost—Jareth was made stronger by belief.
Where the others could take mortal children with that child's permission (the legends of changelings had some merit, like most myths, and that one was no different), Jareth needed a very specific phrase. Jareth dealt in the realm of children unloved; unwanted and neglected. They could wish themselves away, or someone could do it for them but the result was the same.
Adults, to his chagrin, were the same. As soon as they surpassed the age of eighteen, they could not be wished away by others—and he could not visit them unless summoned by the Words.
In the past, this had not much bothered him. What did he care for adults? They were boring and unimaginative. The children, he could mould them, shape them, make them into his subjects. But adults? Who cared!
This was the truth, until Sarah.
Sarah was everything and anything that Jareth had ever wanted in a queen. Sadly, the rules of engagement still applied—except stronger. He had no power over her. He'd given her those words, placed them in the book so that she could win against him. This would get nowhere unless she won against him.
But now, even his normal avenues of contacting mortals were closed. He could not haunt her dreams unless invited. He could not hover at her window, just out of sight so that she was constantly thinking of him and glancing behind her.
He had despaired—how was he to take his queen, if he could not manipulate her into calling for him? How could he have the only thing that he had wanted in centuries, if she could put him away in a drawer and truly forget about him?
And then the dreams started.
She dreamed of the Labyrinth; the Underground. She dreamed of her friends and everyone that she had met in the maze. If he could see her dreams, it was because he was in then, if only a faint, shadowy figure. She wanted him there, but did not seem to know what to do with him.
Because of this, he could not do anything but watch her dreams, could not contact or communicate.
And then, one day, on Sarah's seventeenth birthday, it changed. Her friend Delia—wild, impulsive, the perfect contrast to Sarah's steady dreaming. Neither of them sensible and logical, but dreamers in entirely different ways. He approved of Delia's presence in Sarah's life—gave her a gift. Well, she'd given Sarah the requisite pile of makeup and bath products to open in front of her parents, and then she'd handed Sarah a separately wrapped box to the side, and told her to open it later in private.
Jareth was moderately confused by the small, plastic item. It was shaped in a way that made him wonder as to it's purpose, especially when Sarah's porcelain complexion blushed over as soon as she saw it. She picked it up and flicked the switch on the bottom, and it sprung to life in her hand, buzzing faintly as it vibrated.
Jareth stared. Sarah blushed and dropped it like it was on fire, and Jareth examined it to see if the machine, along with buzzing and vibrating, did also in fact heat up. It didn't seem to, and he backed away from her to avoid detection and stared in confusion.
Sarah picked it up, switched it off and shoved it roughly back into its' box, and then shoved the box into the bottom drawer of her end table and piled a few books on top of it, cramming a scarf from her closet in as well—as if to ensure that it was well and truly hidden from the casual observer—and shut the door. Then, still blushing, she went back to her homework.
Bemused by her odd behaviour, Jareth just shook his head and allowed himself to fade back into the Underground.
Whatever the machine had been for, though, it was clearly something… interesting. The reason that he knew that was because that was the night that the dreams started.
She had been dreaming of the Underground for some time, allowing him to observe but not communicate. But that night, suddenly he was standing in front of her, and she was fully aware of his presence.
"Go away, Goblin King," Sarah ordered him hotly, cheeks stained a delectably red colour.
"Sarah," he purred, following his instinct. If he were to do something that did not match the timbre of her dream, he'd be tossed out of her head like a marionette on a string, and she would fall out of the dream and back into sleep, likely with no memory of it the next morning. "I really don't think that you want me to do that."
"Of course I do," Sarah snapped. "Why would I want you here?"
"I don't know," Jareth drawled lowly. "I'm here, aren't I? You're dreaming, pet. I couldn't do anything if you didn't want me here."
Sarah paled abruptly. "Do you mean that—you're real?"
"Just because you're dreaming something, Sarah, doesn't mean it isn't real," he elected to reply.
Sarah scoffed at him. "Of course I'm dreaming—I understand that. But this you, it isn't a construct of the dream, is it? It's the real you."
"I am often called the King of Dreams, my love," Jareth said softly. "Of course, I could not come near yours if you did not allow it. You dreamed me here, and that allows me to take form in your dreams."
He wouldn't deceive her. This wouldn't work if she didn't make the wish entirely of her own will. Even if she was a bit confused while she did it.
"The thing is, precious," he continued, stepping into her space. "You dreamed me here, and you have all of the power. I cannot do anything outside of what you dreamed me here to do—it will kick me out of your head. So—let's see how far you'll let me go, shall we?"
Then he kissed her.
This did not force him from her dreamscape.
Instead, she stepped back with him, leaned her head into his seeking hand and opened her lips under his. He swept his tongue inside of her mouth, breathing in her sweet taste and tangling long, dark hair in his hand. Nothing would stop him from claiming his queen. Nothing.
And then she woke up.
He hadn't been expelled from her dream—that much was obvious. He wasn't tossed across the throne room, he wasn't dumped on the floor. No, she was moaning and gasping as his gloved hand travelled down to hook under one of her knees and lift her leg around his waist so that he could grind his erection against her softness (she'd been wearing a long, nearly sheer nightgown and absolutely nothing else; bless human night-wear) after he'd hiked her skirt around her hips. He had seen a single glimpse of her glistening core, wet and enticing and framed with delicately feminine black curls, and she was bucking into his hands, coming undone in his arms against the vine-covered wall of the Labyrinth.
He had, at some point, noted with amusement that they were standing in the cave where he had played games with time and set the cleaners on her. Sarah certainly had a gifted imagination, and clearly the tension in the air hadn't just been him—had, in fact, been entirely reciprocated at the time. Now though, one moment she was gasping into his mouth, and the next he was sitting on his throne with a rock-hard erection pressing against his trousers; seconds after a horribly infernal beeping sound had pierced the air.
That sound had no place in his Labyrinth, so it must have come from outside of it. With a furrowed brow of concentration, Jareth was by her side, seated in her window seat.
Sarah was awake, gasping in the bed—panting, in fact, with desire. The infernal beeping was still shattering the air, and she rolled over and slammed a button on the digital clock next to her bed.
"Shit," Sarah muttered. "Shit, I think that was real."
He smiled to himself. It was only a matter of time.
Then she did something very interesting. She leaned over the side of her small bed and ripped the bottom drawer of her nightstand open, and tossed the scarf and pile of books onto the floor with abandon. Then she ripped open the box that Delia had gifted her with yesterday and glanced around the room.
"You're watching this, aren't you?" she asked softly.
Jareth jolted.
"You can see exactly what I'm doing—and if I wasn't dreaming completely, Goblin King, you want me as much as I want you."
Jareth nodded silently.
"Feel free to enjoy this," Sarah added softly. Then she removed the plastic thing from the box and tossed the box on the floor, wormed her way back to lying down, and wiggled enticingly, worming her nightgown up even further than he had managed to push it so that it settled in soft, feminine ruffles around her slim hips. Jareth stared, transfixed. He didn't even have to feel remotely guilty—she'd invited him to watch.
Then he had an epiphany as to what the vibrating plastic was for. It was shaped exactly like a rather decently sized cock, and Sarah unabashedly—not completely unabashedly, actually, she was blushing again like she could feel his eyes on her—bent her knee, braced her foot at an angle, and plunged the fake cock inside of her with a single smooth motion.
Jareth circled the room to the foot of the bed for a better view, and then decided that, since she had so politely invited him to enjoy this, she probably wouldn't mind if he participated. He unlaced his trousers with efficiency and pushed them down just enough that his cock sprung free, and he wrapped his hand around it and pumped to the time of her moans.
The fake cock was buzzing again, and Sarah's soft, sweet sounds were reaching a crescendo. Then, she bit her lip and muffled a long groan, and shuddered with her head thrown back and eyes squeezed shut.
"Jareth," she breathed his name—his actual, real name, not his title—as she tumbled into the abyss. "Fuck," she added, dropping the toy on the bed beside her. Jareth spilled all over his trousers like a teenage boy at the sight.
Then the beeping sound shattered the air again, and Sarah let out a groan—not a nice one this time, but imminently frustrated and annoyed, and rolled over to shut it off.
"I have to get ready for school," she said, looking incredibly comfortable talking to thin air. Obviously she could sense his presence in some way. "Trust me, it will not be interesting, so you can leave if you want."
Then she went red again. "I—I'll probably see you tonight," she added softly.
And yes, she did. This was going to be… what was that phrase that she had used? Oh, right. Piece of cake.
…
Five and a half years later…
It was not a piece of cake.
"Say my name," Jareth ordered softly.
"Goblin King," Sarah gasped into his mouth. She'd had some… very eclectic dreams. One that he'd found particularly enjoyable was the one where he had chased her through the Labyrinth wearing the white dress that she'd been wearing when she'd had a bite of his peach. She had run from him, and he'd chased her to the ground and landed on top of her to pull the fabric off of her piece by piece. Sarah had screamed and cried and yelped for him to stop it, all the while bucking her hips into his ministrations and soaking the moss beneath her bare cunt with her arousal while he forced her thighs open and brought her to orgasm with first his fingers, and then immediately followed with his mouth. By the end, she really had been crying and begging him to stop because it was too much, not enough, please fuck me, Jareth, please.
He couldn't fuck her. That was against the rules her dreamscape. That was the line that he could not cross, and no matter how many times and ways that he'd tried, he'd been thrown from her dreams the moment that the tip of his cock started to slide into her wetness.
She'd awoken with dusky, finger shaped bruises on the insides of her knees where he had ruthlessly spread her wide.
"My name, Sarah," he ordered, leaning down to just barely graze her nub with the tip of his tongue.
"Goblin—" he ruthlessly stabbed that tongue inside of her, and she arched. "Jareth!" she screamed.
He tilted his head. That. There. She'd said his name—not just in the dream, but he had driven her to actual, coherent sleep-talk, which was the point of all of this. He had to coax that wish from her lips—had to torment her dreams so much that the words that she said in the dream actually reached her unconscious form.
He'd thought that it would be easy, but it wasn't. Even when bucking with pleasure, Sarah rarely sleep-talked, and even in the lighthearted dream world, she was smart enough not to utter the words I wish.
Then she came in his hands. Again. Damn—he'd pushed her over the edge, just when he'd found it. The moment, the precipice, where she was both so incoherent with need that she would say anything for fulfilment, and so physically desperate that her words reached her true lips.
"Sarah," he murmured. "Why won't you let me fuck you?"
Sarah glanced down at him with no small amount of affection in her eyes. "Because I'm a virgin," she said promptly. "And I am not losing it in a dream, damnit."
And that was true. She did have a point, didn't she? The first time that he slid his cock into her welcoming cunt, didn't he want it to be fully real, for her to be fully solid in his arms?
"Why won't you call for me?" He asked plaintively.
"Jareth," Sarah sighed, pressing her fingers into his hair. He leaned onto her stomach and let her pet at his bangs. "You're dangerous, just because I started having x-rated dreams about you doesn't change that. And clearly, since you're still here—clearly, you're playing for keeps. I don't know what you want to keep, but whatever it is, I don't want to end up trapped into giving it to you."
Fucking damn cunning little human.
Sadly for her, more than five years of the x-rated dreams had done nothing to convince him that she wasn't meant to belong to him. Everything from the dream where she'd been chained to his headboard, to the dream where she had dropped to her knees in front of his throne and enveloped his cock in her mouth simply further convinced him that she was his.
…
It took another two weeks for him to find that delicate balance again. The one where she was sufficiently physically aroused that her desperation reached her unconscious lips, and so desperate in general that she would say anything for him to finish her.
"What do you want, Sarah?" he demanded silkily, three glove-clad fingers buried inside of her and tongue on her clit. Sarah nearly trembled against the iron-hard grip of his free hand pressing bruises into her hip. Her thighs were mounted on his shoulders, bare feet planted on his back as she bucked against his unrelenting hold. "What do you want from me?"
"Please, Jareth, make me come," she gasped. He tilted his head for confirmation that his name had passed her lips in the real world. "Please, please, please."
He could, if he concentrated, hear the double-timbre to her words that indicated that they were being spoken in more than just one medium.
"What are your right words, Sarah? Do you remember them?"
"Yes," Sarah said frantically. "Yes, I remember."
"Say them," he ordered mildly. "Say it, Sarah and I'll bring you to higher heights than you can possibly imagine."
"Jareth," she gasped. "Jareth!"
He did not allow her to tumble over that edge.
"I wish," Sarah breathed, gasping. He pressed his tongue harder to her clit. "I wish that the Goblin King," she continued. He lashed his tongue back and forth. "I wish that the Goblin King—"
And then she woke up. Jareth groaned in frustration and dropped face-first into his suddenly empty bed.
…
"Sarah, are you all right?" Her roommate and best friend was standing next to her, shaking her shoulder. "You were sleep-talking. You said something about wishing, so I figured that you were dreaming about that delicious goblin king again. And you made me swear to wake you if I ever heard you talking aloud."
"Fuck," Sarah announced, sitting up and trying to ignore her unfulfilled arousal. "I almost said it," she breathed. "I nearly fucking—oh my god, Delia, I should have known that this was too dangerous. I almost said it."
Sarah did not dream for a month. Jareth was only barely, passingly able to make contact with her dreams for brief moments before she awoke again. She looked pinched and drawn, pale, with dark circles under her eyes and cup of coffee at hand for all hours of day and night.
"Sarah, this is ridiculous," Delia snapped, taking her Starbucks cup from her hand. "You've barely slept in—days at least, but I think it must be weeks. Even if you did say it, whatever would happen would not be worse than dying of exhaustion, Sarah."
"You don't understand, Delia," Sarah said softly. "I'm not, I'm not dreaming. Or I am, but it's the real, actual him. When I beat him, I told him that he had no power over me, and that means that he can't contact me in the waking world. But dreams are a grey area. He can come into my dreams if I'm dreaming of him anyway—and trust me, I will dream of him. That's what he's been up to all this time. I mean, I knew he had to be up to something, he's always up to something. But it makes sense now."
"What is he trying to do?" Delia asked.
"He wants me to call him," Sarah said. "In the real world. If he can rile me up enough that I sleep-talk, and he talks me into wishing him here, he'll be in the real world and he'll have power to do whatever he wants to me."
"And this would be a bad thing, why?" Delia demanded. "It doesn't sound like you don't enjoy what he would want to do with you."
Jareth snorted. The friend was, of course, absolutely right. Except for one thing, and Sarah had obviously figured out what it was. "Well, that's all fine and dandy, Delia, except that I'm not actually talking about sex. See, when I wished Toby away and ran the Labyrinth to get him back, Jareth and I made a deal."
Oh, she had done the thing properly, hadn't she? It sounded like she had it completely figured out.
"A deal," Delia said skeptically.
"If I solved the Labyrinth in thirteen hours, he would let Toby go," Sarah elaborated. "I was a stupid, fucking cocky fifteen-year-old who was so enamoured with the fact that I'd been right all along and magic did exist that I forgot one minor detail."
"What's that?" Delia asked.
"I voluntarily entered the realm of faerie, Delia. And the fae cannot take those who do not go voluntarily, but once they're there, mortals cannot leave unless they're released. The deal that I made with Jareth mentioned letting Toby go. Not me. He never said anything about letting me go. Faeries are bound by their word, but they're tricky creatures. They will keep exactly to their word and nothing else. If he didn't mention letting me go, he had no intention of doing so. The only reason that I escaped was because I defeated him, and very brazenly declared that he had no power over me. It shattered the path to his realm and dropped me back at home, safe and sound. But I still belong to faerie, Delia. By the ancient laws and the deal that I swore to him, I belong to him. If I were to summon him back here, he would have power over me again, and then he could take me back to his realm and never let me go. Because I already entered that realm, and by those same ancient laws that bind both of us to our word—I never should have been able to leave. He asked me to marry him, Delia."
Oh. She really had figured it all out.
"Marry? And you weren't derailed by that?"
"Oh, he didn't say marry, I didn't recognize it at the time. But he said—fuck, what was it? Fear me, love me, do as I say and I will be your slave. Love, honor, obey—you think that I can't recognize marriage vows when I hear them?"
Jareth chucked lowly. Oh, she was just determined to be a challenge, wasn't she? Here she knew everything, and it should have been a pain in the ass that it would be that much more difficult—but it wasn't. It was thrilling; and it would make his victory all that much sweeter. The fact that she'd reasoned this out herself, with simply the help of a few dusty old books on faerie and goblin lore, simply enforced the fact that she was his, however long it took.
"Sarah," Delia snapped. "Go to sleep."
"But—"
"I'm a very light sleeper; how many times have I complained that your x-rated moaning was waking me up? If you start to talk, I'll hear you and I'll wake you up. You can't go on like this."
Sarah looked longingly at her bed, and then at the computer at her desk where she'd been working on an essay for her Mythology class.
"Sarah, you're fucking miles ahead of the rest of the class," Delia said impatiently. "That essay isn't due for a month. You've been studying like a crazy person to prevent yourself from falling asleep, remember? Go to bed."
Sarah closed her eyes, and Jareth hissed in victory. He had her.
"Fine," she breathed.
She was asleep as soon as her head hit the pillow, and he was tugged into her dreamscape only a scant few minutes later.
This dream was different. For starters, she was fully clothed in normal street clothes, which had happened before, but not very often. She was wearing skin-tight black pants with varied rips in the knees and thighs that showed off tantalizing pale skin and clung delectably to her ass, and heeled boots that made her a good four inches taller and much closer to his height, and clung to her legs all the way up to her lower thigh, encasing them in leather. She'd dressed in a white shirt that looked very like the one that she'd worn all those years before in his Labyrinth, except with a dark green velvet waist-clincher tied in a delicate pattern atop it, showing off a delicious display of cleavage. Her dark hair was down and untamed around her shoulders—and she looked like a wild, sexy creature that was made to be his queen. Her eyes, brought out in stark relief with the colour of the waist-clincher, shone an unforgiving emerald.
The other thing that was unlike other dreams was that she was leaning against the wall of the Labyrinth with her arms crossed, arching a brow at him in challenge. Her fear hummed through the air like a live thing, but her easy posture did nothing to give it away. He wouldn't have known that she was both terrified and defensive if the shape of the dream didn't tell him. All the colours and details stood out in stark relief, something that only happened in a dream if one was hyper-vigilant and focused, and the timbre of her fear hummed in the air as almost a tangible object.
"So, how did I do?"
"What is it that mortals say?" Jareth drawled in answer, stepping into her personal space. "Entirely correct—A+, that's it."
"Don't," Sarah said sharply. She didn't step back, because that would be yielding, and she only ever yielded to him when it was fun for both of them. He stopped pushing because he didn't want her to topple on those vicious looking heels and break her ankle—that sort of damage wouldn't show in the real world, but the pain would probably rip her from the dream and then he wouldn't be able to talk to her for another month, possibly.
She looked up at him, so terrified and heartbroken, yet defiant. "What do you want from me, Jareth?"
"I want you to say the words," he said calmly. "And bring me to you so that I can make you my queen."
"That'll never happen," Sarah said sharply.
"Sarah," he breathed. "Don't tell me that this is all that you want. Go to classes. Read books. Party with your friends—you're meant for so much more than that. I'm offering you a kingdom, a crown, immortality, love that will never fade or die. I'm offering you everything."
"At the expense of everything else," Sarah fired back. "My family, my friends, my achievements. You can mock going to classes, Jareth, but I've worked hard for my degree—and I have no desire to throw it away to be queen of a faraway faerie realm."
"No desire?" Jareth drawled, taking her chin in a gentle hand. "Tut-tut. I can't lie to you, love—you would think that you would do me the courtesy of offering the same honesty."
"Oh, please. Honesty—you've never offered honesty in your life. Honesty does not mean not lying, Jareth, it means always disclosing the full, entire truth regardless of how that will affect your situation. If I lie to you, it's because I don't have quite the same skill at word games as you do, to twist the truth into the shape that I want it to be. If I lie to you, it's just to level the playing field."
Jareth laughed. "Fair enough," he said, dropping his chin. "You could be happy here."
"I know," Sarah said softly. "I'm sure that we would have a fairy-tale wedding and a fairy-tale romance and a wedding night out of a porno. I'm sure that it could make me very happy, Jareth, but I stopped dreaming that someone would make me a queen at the age of fifteen. Running your Labyrinth completely destroyed any desire to be rescued—by anyone, because I realized how much more awesome it was to rescue yourself. I could be happy here, with you handing me everything that I could ever want on a silver platter—but I wouldn't be fulfilled. I could only have that if I work for my achievements and make them my own. I don't want someone to make me a queen and give me everything that I could ever dream of wanting, I want to get a real job and do valuable things, and make my own money to make my own way in the world. I want to build my own life and reap the benefits of my success. And as much as you can give me—you can't give me that."
"Sarah, what do you think that I do?" Jareth finally asked her.
Sarah gave him a Look. "Besides stalking me all day? I don't know—kick goblins into the Bog of Eternal Stench, torment teenagers when they're stupid enough to wish away their little siblings—which they completely deserve, for the record, I totally admit that I deserved it, and it certainly helped me grow the fuck up—generally throw tantrums in between rich musical numbers?"
Jareth snorted. And now, following that stupid fairy-tale when she'd been here was coming back to bite him in the ass.
"Sarah, those goblins that you saw are one breed, a single caste of goblin kind. I have an actual kingdom, you know—not just a deserted castle in a maze filled with eternally drunk children. Occasionally Titania and Auberon threaten to go to war, which is kind of a pain in the ass—and I have to build an army. I hear land disputes, I make decisions. I run an economy, I regulate the marketplace, I watch the social culture. And yes, I do occasionally torment stupid teenagers that wish their little siblings away."
"Seriously," Sarah said, blinking at him.
"Seriously," he answered, his lips quirking up.
"And you want me to help you run this kingdom? Jareth, are you nuts? I'm not qualified to run a country!" Sarah yelped.
"So first you were angry because I wasn't offering you any fulfilment," Jareth clarified. "Now you think I'm crazy because you don't think you are capable of that task that I've set. There's just no winning with you," he shook his head mock sadly.
"Jareth," Sarah said impatiently, clearly seeing through the act.
"And as far as your family and friends and life go, you wouldn't be mortal anymore, so yes, they will eventually age and die. Mortals live such short lives. But I wouldn't stop you from returning there to finish your degree, to see your family. If you really find yourself lost here, you can get a job in the mortal world if you want. I really do just want you to be happy, Sarah. And the fact that you're taking this seriously just proves to me, again, that you were made to be my queen."
Sarah stared at him. "And to think that we've wasted all these years fooling around, when if we'd had this conversation years ago, maybe I wouldn't have been so stubborn," she pointed out dryly. "Look, Jareth, I can't make this sort of decision on a whim. I have to think about it, and you have to give me space to do so. I can't have you trying to make me summon you in my sleep, all right? I can't go much longer without sleep—so I have to be able to trust that you will let it go for now. I'll come to you if I have any issues, I'll talk to you. And I assume that my subconscious really fucking wants you, because you already told me that you couldn't be here if I wasn't already dreaming of you—so I figure that that will continue whether I want it to or not."
"What are you asking for, Sarah?"
"Time," Sarah breathed. "That's all that I need. Time."
"I can end the dreams," Jareth offered suddenly. "If you really, truly don't want to see me, Sarah, I can shut myself out of them. They'll drop you back into sleep and you likely won't remember much the next morning."
"No," Sarah said. "No, don't do that, Jareth. Just—stop trying to bring me to the very brink of orgasm and then trying to coerce me into wishing for you, all right? Do you want me to be tricked into this, or do you want me to want this?"
"I think you know," Jareth said softly.
"Then give me the time to figure out if I do," Sarah said. "Give me a chance to get there on my own before you resort to conning me into doing what you want. That's all that I ask," she added.
Jareth sighed. "Sarah," he said softly. "There you go again, simply proving that you were born to be my queen."
"Good night, Jareth," Sarah said pointedly, and disappeared. He had no idea how she'd managed it, but clearly, she was more in control of the dream when she had more awareness of her circumstances.
The next night, she shoved him back onto the bed when he tried to touch her, and swallowed his cock down her throat. He bucked into the warm, wet cavern that was her throat and took her hair in his hand, but she still managed to torment him for almost an hour before she finally swallowed his release. Then she crawled up to lay down—completely naked, with no interesting clothes or night-clothes this time, he noted, and dropped on his chest to rest her head on his shoulder. Rather than trying to slide his fingers into her wetness, Jareth tried to read the situation, and finally wrapped his arms around her and held her close.
"Is this what it's going to be like?" Sarah asked softly. "With the cuddling and stuff? When we're married?" He noted that she said when, and not if, but didn't comment, simply smirked into her hair.
"Of course," he said quietly.
"Why do I feel sleepy, Jareth? I'm dreaming already, aren't I?"
"You can fall asleep within a dream," he murmured. "If that's what your subconscious is focused on. Obviously, you've been thinking about what I told you all day, and you want to sleep with me. Not have sex, not have an orgasm or play kinky games. You just want to sleep beside me—to know what it feels like."
"Ah," Sarah said succinctly. "Well then, Goblin King—sleep with me?"
He smiled softly. "It would be my pleasure."
…
"You can go, Delia," Sarah said insistently.
"Are you sure? I don't want to leave you alone," Delia said anxiously.
"It's fine; we have an understanding. I talked to him. I understand better what he wants from me now, and he understands where I'm coming from too. He promised to give me time."
"How much time?" Delia asked suspiciously.
"As much as I need," Sarah answered absently.
"And how much do you need?" Delia demanded.
Sarah looked at her sharply. "I don't need anymore, Delia. I've made my decision. And if you come back and find me gone, that's why."
"If? That doesn't sound like you've made your decision," Delia pointed out.
"No, I mean yes, I'm going to call for him," Sarah elaborated. Jareth loosed a sharp breath at the news. "The if was simply an expression of, I don't know if I'll be back here tomorrow. Like I said, I talked to him. He told me that it doesn't have to be all-or-nothing, Delia, I can be with him and still be here if I want. I can see you, and my family. I can finish my degree. I can find a job, if I want. So you may find me gone tomorrow morning because I'm still with him, but I won't be gone forever."
Delia arched a brow. "So why don't you just call him now?" she asked dryly. Jareth furrowed a brow as he realized that the girl had a point. Why didn't she just call him now, if she'd made her decision?
Sarah smirked. "Because Jareth and I are going to play a game," she said, arching a brow at her friend.
"Lord," Delia muttered. "I don't want to know. Good luck with your hot faerie sex, I'll definitely see you Monday for classes?"
"Definitely," Sarah agreed. "I have that midterm in Medieval Lit."
"Ugh," Delia muttered.
"I know, right," Sarah returned.
Sarah waited until the door slammed shut behind Delia before she managed to uncannily turn in exactly Jareth's direction and look right at him. "And I figure that you're probably listening," she said softly. "And dying of anticipation, so I'll tell you about the game that we're going to play. You're going to do what you were so eager to do before, Jareth—you're going to try to make me wish for you in my sleep. I've no doubt that you had elaborate plans for what you were going to do with me when you succeeded—I'll sweeten the pot. I'm sleeping naked tonight. If you can get me to call to you in my sleep, please, feel free to wake me up by spreading my legs and fucking your way through my virginity."
Jareth breathed in sharply.
"If you can't get me to call you," Sarah added. "I'll just wish for you tomorrow morning. But—let's just say that I was curious about your plans."
He'd planned to fall upon her sleeping body and pick up right wherever he'd left off in the dream, but that was just so much more delicious. The thought of slamming inside of her sweet, wet, hot cunt at last, while she gasped with arousal, and slowly fucking the sleep from her was driving him crazy. He wanted to see her face when she awoke and found herself split on his cock. He wanted her to wake on the very edge of orgasm and get to watch her fall over.
Then she, true to her word, got ready for bed and then stripped all of her clothing off and got under the covers to fall asleep. It took a bit of tossing and turning, but finally, she dropped off and almost immediately began dreaming of him.
"You heard me?" Sarah asked him with an arched brow. She was just as naked as she had been when she went to sleep, and sprawled unselfconsciously across his pillows with her dark hair fanned in every direction. Jareth looked her up and down, his prize, his queen, his love—he'd finally won—unabashedly staring at her perfectly formed breasts, pink nipples erect and pointing towards his canopy, slim, curvy body, with a neatly trimmed thatch of hair between her thighs and long, slim legs that he couldn't wait to feel wrapped around him. Those legs were currently casually sprawled in such a manner that indicated that tonight, she wasn't planning on playing games and making it difficult to spread them. As much fun as it could be when she pretended that he had to force her thighs apart and screamed and begged for him to stop, all the while dripping juices all over his fingers to show him that no, if you stop I'll kill you—he was relieved about tonight. Tonight was going to be wonderful, but there were no room for games. They could spend the rest of eternity playing whatever games that they wanted.
"I did," Jareth answered with a nod of his head.
Sarah smirked at him. "Good. And to add to my terms—if you win, and succeed in getting me to call for you in my sleep, as previously discussed, you can do whatever you want to my sleeping body as a wake-up call. And if I win—that is, if I don't call for you in my sleep," she clarified. "Tomorrow when you fuck me, I get to be on top."
Jareth snorted. "Done," he said. Watching her rock on his cock above him, breasts swaying, hips rolling—would hardly be a hardship—in fact, that sounded like an excellent activity for tomorrow regardless of whether he won or not.
Jareth dropped atop her on the bed, and pressed his lips ever-so-softly to hers. Sarah reciprocated the kiss and moved to deepen it. He allowed her for a moment, and then broke his lips from hers to travel down her body. He briefly stopped to envelope a breast in his mouth, rolling his tongue skillfully around her nipple. She moaned appreciatively and ran a hand through his hair as he laved the little nub ruthlessly with his tongue. Jareth moved further down her body and settled between her legs, spreading them comfortably and eyeing his prize from the best possible angle.
Then he pulled one of his gloves off with his teeth and pressed his fingers between the lips of her cunt and swept them from her opening to the hood over her clit and back again.
Sarah. Was. Soaked. Not that she didn't get very, very wet when they were doing this sort of thing, but there were only a few times that he had found her this wet before even touching her. Honestly, only the times that she had screamed and fought and resisted and he had forced her anyway—oh. Sarah clearly had a bit of a secret rape kink, didn't she? A thing, for him being in control and taking from her without asking or relenting if she begged him to stop. And that… that was another way to force her, wasn't it? To simply appear in her bedroom and help himself to what he wanted without even waking her first to ensure that she wanted it too? That could be a kind of rape as well, couldn't it?
"The real question," Jareth drawled softly. "Are you going to make this easy for me, or not?" He slid two fingers comfortably inside of her wet heat and crooked them sharply, feeling for that spot inside of her that made her gasp out a sharp intake of breath and rock her hips in his direction.
"Why would I do that, Goblin King?" Sarah drawled softly. "Besides, even if I wanted to, I couldn't—you have to make me sleep talk, don't you. It doesn't matter what I say here. I wish that the Goblin King would come and fuck me."
Nothing happened, as they had both known that nothing would.
"Making you sleep-talk is only half the battle, lovely," Jareth responded lowly. "The other half—once you're sleep-talking—is making you say it. And that could be easy or difficult."
"Jareth," Sarah murmured. "Have I ever made anything easy for you?"
Jareth grinned at her, suddenly genuinely delighted with her all over again. "I wouldn't have it any other way," he breathed, twisting his fingers inside of her and watching the delightful way that her breasts swayed when her back arched up.
He was in no rush tonight. There was no frantic need to bring her to the brink before she figured out what he was up to, since she already knew. Instead, he slowly and steadily brought her higher and higher, relishing in her soft gasps and moans.
Finally—there. That one. He heard that one in double—heard her moan in the real world just as much as she had here. Sarah was nearly incoherent with need, rocking her hips in time to his fingers and wedging her thighs apart with his shoulders to give him better access with his tongue.
"Say my name, Sarah," he drawled softly.
"Jareth," Sarah gasped out, bucking her hips into his restraining hand. "Jareth, please."
"You know what you need to say," Jareth said ruthlessly.
Sarah laughed breathily. "Can't," she gasped. "Oh, god," she added as he ruthlessly slid his tongue over her opening again.
"You can, Sarah. What do you want?"
"Want you to fuck me," Sarah let out breathily. "Jareth."
"I can't fuck you here, remember? This is your dreamscape, those are your rules. No, if you want me to fuck you—" here he cut himself off so that he could jolt three fingers inside of her and twist them, watching in delight as she arched her back and screeched his name. "We have to go somewhere else, Sarah," he continued softly. "If you say your right words, I can fuck you all that you want me to. Do you remember your right words?"
"Yes," Sarah gasped, twisting into his hands. "Yes, I remember."
"Can you say them for me, lovely?" Jareth asked softly. "Can you say your words?"
She glanced down at him, eyes gleaming her lovely, brilliant emerald, and he knew that he'd won. "I wish," Sarah gasped. He twisted his fingers again, and applied his tongue to her clit. "I wish that—ahh—" she cut herself off. "I wish that the Goblin King would come. Right now," she added. Jareth grinned brightly.
"Good girl," he breathed, feeling everything that restricted him from contacting her disappear. "My lovely, beautiful girl." He shoved his way sideways out of her head and consciously landed on top of her sleeping body in the mortal world. She was heartbreakingly lovely in sleep, tossing around under blankets that shielded her naked form from him and whimpering his name. He pulled the covers off of her and made his clothes disappear in less than a blink, watching her moan and whimper delightfully.
He slid his fingers into her soft cunt, just to check and ensure that yes, she was fully and completely aroused, and then parted her thighs and settled between them. He nearly blacked out, eyes rolling back in his head, as the tip of his cock was enveloped in her wet heat. Sarah moaned in delight as he went, and then let out a sharp gasp of pain when he broke her virgin barrier. He seated himself fully inside of her and waited for her moans to turn into pleasure again, quelling the urge to move.
"Jareth," she moaned, head rolling back. He took that as permission, and began to rock his hips, slowly at first and then faster.
That was when she woke up. Sarah gasped as she catapulted back to consciousness and wrapped her legs around his waist as sleep-filled eyes blinked open. "Jareth," she breathed. "Oh my god."
Jareth laughed breathlessly and quickly applied his fingers to her clit to send her over the edge, and the followed her over and came inside of her for the first time.
Jareth effortlessly dropped onto the bed and twisted her in mid-air at the same time to reverse their positions, so that she was laying across his chest, sated and sweaty and exhausted.
"Shit," Sarah let out, nestling into his arms. Jareth let out a full laugh and tightened them around her.
"How do you feel?" He asked softly. "My queen."
"Like this has been building for years," Sarah said. "Like something has happened that was always meant to; like this is fate."
"Fate can be a cruel mistress," Jareth acknowledged. "But she isn't always, Sarah."
Sarah snorted. "I don't know if this is cruel or not," she retorted. "I'll let you know when I figure it out."
Jareth let out another chuckle.
"I just have one question," Sarah added.
"Mmm?"
"Your bed is like something out of a porn film," Sarah drawled. "Why the hell are we in a cramped single in a dorm room with a shit mattress and paper-thin walls?"
"That, my love, is an excellent question," Jareth let out softly. He gathered her more closely in his arms and dropped them seamlessly into his bed. Then, with another moment of concentration, cleaned up the… mess that their lovemaking had made of both of them, and then hauled her up to lay on his shoulder. Sarah went willingly, rested her cheek on his collar-bone and traced patterns on his chest with her fingers as she dropped off to sleep.
Tomorrow they would deal with the aftermath. Tomorrow, he would help try to counter her inevitable regret, questioning her own decision. He would show her his kingdom and his Labyrinth and teach her to control her new powers. Tomorrow he would ask when she would marry him and when he could put a crown on her head.
But those were all concerns for tomorrow, and Jareth was just concerned about sleeping with the woman that he loved after truly holding her in his arms and making love to her for the first time.
Potential triggers:
Fairly graphic mentions of un-negotiated rape kink. More specifically, there is no safe-word, and no talking about it beforehand. Jareth thinks that he knows Sarah well enough that if her screams turned to actual fear, he would recognize it and stop. The reality is that this is not the way to practice safe sex, and it could actually, potentially be very dangerous.
Dubious voyeurism. Jareth watches Sarah masturbate, and she thinks that she knows he's watching her, but has no confirmation and would have no way to make him leave if she actually wanted him to.
Other dubious consent: Jareth never actually asks her if she wants to have sex with him; he takes the fact that she's dreaming of him as consent enough. Furthermore, his goal for most of the story is to trick her into wishing for him to come to her- which is very dub-con, even if in the end they talk about it, and she consents enthusiastically. It is implied that if he had succeeded in tricking her, he also would have done things to her in her sleep that she hadn't agreed to. In the end, anything done while Sarah is sleeping is talked about and agreed to, making the actual brief somnophilia in this fic completely consensual (if not necessarily safe and sane, since still no safe word or way to communicate that she wants him to stop)
I believe that those are all of the potential triggers in this fic, but please tell me if there's something else that you think should be mentioned here. As I said, it is not my intention to trigger someone. If you are at all hesitant, please don't read this.