Notes: This is a one shot idea I have wanted to put down for a while. It is of an adult nature. However, I will NOT use explicit wording, in accordance with the guidelines. The highest rating the site allows is "M," which means it has to be acceptable to 16 year olds. I'm not exactly sure what is acceptable or not for someone under 17 but I will try to comply. What I mean is I will omit the F word, the C words, the P word (not that P word, the other one! Oh never mind, I won't mention either!) and well um… I will attempt to only imply "action." So if it sounds cheesy…well you'll know why (damn restrictions).
Italic words indicate thoughts.
Disclaimer: I do not own the Labyrinth or the characters pertaining to the movie. In no way do I make any profit from this Fanfiction.
Title: Your Kisses, Spare Me Not
Summary: A scarf, some wine, and a lily or two…what on earth is Sarah planning?
Blushing furiously and giggling, Sarah stealthily left the room through the back door as soon as she hears her husband's steps sounding down the hallway.
Majestically Jareth enters into his study and sighs, unbuttoning his long black cape from his shoulders. How he hated it when he had to meet other dignitaries and discuss territory borders and trade negotiations. It always took all day since all parties stubbornly demanded what they wanted and were always slow to compromise. He just couldn't take his throne room any more and all the tension that still lingered there from stuffy debates and high held opinions. Thank goodness it was over, and now he could at the very least change his clothes to something more comfortable.
It is when he takes off the high collared black leather vest and folds it haphazardly over his study chair that he spies the white parchment on his writing desk.
"Hello, what is this?"
The paper is thick and its edges are tattered and frayed to give it a more old fashioned appeal; the ink, a flow of gorgeous sapphire blue. Immediately he recognizes Sarah's elaborate cursive, which she usually reserves for important matters. It read:
To my dear Goblin King,
I cordially invite you to a private wine tasting tonight.
A change of attire awaits you next to your desk.
Follow the music.
Jareth smiles in spite of himself.
My Sarah… the hopeless romantic.
She must have been secretly planning this little event for days.
It actually amazes him that she was able to hide it so well from him. Ducking down to the side of his desk he finds a strange white bag made from that curious stuff (plastic) Sarah's world is so fond of. However, when he pulls out the clothing he is surprised to not see his usual tight breeches or shirt of cascading ruffles.
"What the devil?"
To be fair, they are some what nice looking but these are definitely clothes from her world. He pulls out sleek black pants and is surprised to see that crude device called a zipper at its front. The material is light enough and looks like a good fit; it was just so strange to wear something so…
Different.
The shirt is more to his taste, a green so dark it could be mistaken for black in dim lighting, and a deep neckline to show off some chest, with a neat row of shiny black buttons down its front.
He shrugs. He could indulge her if this is her wish, at least for one night. Snapping his fingers, the outfit instantly appears on him, comfortably snug in all the right places. He suddenly wishes he had some kind of mirror to see himself.
Soft music intrudes his thoughts. Sarah, truly amazes him. The music is too soft and refined to be played by goblins so where on earth…
Pushing against the back door Jareth steps out into a dark hallway with a candle on the window ledge as his only source of light. There is another card leaning against the brass candle holder. The message is short and very specific.
No magic allowed.
An eyebrow raises but he walks toward their bed chambers calmly mystified.
Sarah is no where in sight. A fire crackles in the fireplace but otherwise there is no other light source. The focus is his Victorian style armchair sitting in the very center of the room next to a small linen covered table.
"Sarah?" he calls. The room remains quiet.
He walks to the chair and sees a white lily, two wine glasses half filled with a red wine and a dark scarf lying on top of the table. And one more card.
Put on blindfold. Do not remove unless instructed.
Placing himself in the armchair, he eyes the blindfold with suspicion, biting down on his knuckle. He does not like relinquishing control, in any form. The music continues on to another song just as soft and melodic. But then…he thinks to himself, he so loves to play games. And the wine smells excellent, a light fragrance of blackberries wafting from the crystal rim.
Oh what the hell.
He ties the black scarf around his eyes.
"All right. I'm playing by your rules," he says loud enough for someone outside the room to hear, "and I will not use magic."
A door creaks to his left and he realizes she was waiting inside the bathing room. Footsteps, so light, he barely hears her. He senses that she is in front of him, that she is picking up something from the table. Completely silent, she brings the wineglass up to his lips. A smile tugs at the corner of his mouth as she tilts its rim to his lips.
The lines of his throat, pale and graceful, ripple as he swallows the taste of blackberries, cherries, and the subtle hint of cedar.
The exchange was not perfect, however, as one drop laces a crimson line down from the corner of his mouth, past his chin. She stops his hand from wiping it off. Her near breath startles him. The blindfold throws everything off as he was not expecting the wet warmth of her tongue. Nor was he expecting her kisses trailing up his chin, and finally settling on the seam of his mouth. He moans when she lightly sucks his bottom lip before demurely pulling away. Lust, sweet and aching, lances through his being.
Now this… is interesting.
He tilts his head, brandishing a wicked grin, even as his heart is racing.
"Pity you did not spill more."
Silence still. He wonders if he has said something wrong.
Just as he is about to say something, she, with deliberate care, spills a little of the wine on his knee… then on his upper thigh….His breath hitches as he realizes a growing pattern. He waits - his body tensing. A light staccato of cold dots tap right beside the zipper, causing him to gasp.
He pictures her smiling, feigning innocence at the accidental slips. A soft rustle of cloth, and he knows she is coyly kneeling before him. The hairs on the back of his neck rise when she gently grasps his knees with both hands.
"Sarah" he whispers as she draws his legs apart. His heart hammers as he anticipates her touch, her exquisite torment.
He shivers.
Sarah kisses the dots of wine on his knee before licking them roughly away and a drop of sweat courses down Jareth's throat. Mind swaying he wonders if perhaps it is the wine causing the sudden current of heat running through his veins…
More likely the wine bearer, he thinks sardonically.
She moves to the next wine stain, sucking the smooth material before lightly biting down. Her hands massage his calves as she nuzzles his inner thigh. A groan rips from his throat and he wishes he could see her, watch her kneel before him smiling with her pale hands resting on top of his legs. Her tongue licking over her lips a dangerous promise.
Suddenly she moves closer to him and he can feet her breath through the thin material; that huff of air caressing him with warmth before suddenly turning cold under the wine stains.
Please… his frenzied mind begs.
But instead of licking, which is what he expected, she grazes her teeth downward, beside the zipper, along the black tightened material, down "him." The unexpected pressure of her teeth causes him to jump. It is not painful but it implies so many possibilities that just the idea excites him.
Her mouth moves away and left him yearning. A sound of movement. What is she doing?
Curse this blind!
He desperately wants to rip it off and take hold of his beloved, ending her silence by making her scream!
Instead he grits his teeth, the muscles in his jaw tightening.
Is she done already?
He expected more from such an adventurous and creative mind. He grasps her arm and feels the soft cloth, a satiny sleeve.
She is dressed?
He had pictured the exact opposite once he had donned the black scarf. Perhaps that is her intent, toying with his mind, anticipating his thoughts.
Soft fingers caress his cheek and jaw, "patience," the gesture tells him.
He sighs and relaxing into the chair, nods that he understands. She continues her silent explorations, first by undoing the small black buttons of his shirt. Pushing the shirt open, she delicately pulls the ends out of the pants, and helps him out of his shirt.
She smiles though he can not see her, and she appreciates the shadows lightly dancing over the hard planes of his lean frame. Her lips are suddenly dry, and she licks them to a moistened sheen. Trembling hands softly glides over his skin. The light, bordering on ticklish, touch causes the Goblin King to shudder and gasp. He suddenly grabs her wrists and crushes them both to his mouth, kissing them roughly.
"Enough," he softly growls, "I must – I want," but he can not say another word for she quickly covers his mouth with hers. Her wrists are free as he grasps her face, her small delicate face.
So hungry.
The warm pressure of lips, tasting, exchanging breaths; a flickering of warmth as someone's tongue sweeps between them. The kiss leaves both shaky, gasping for breath.
"Sarah…" he whispers, feeling the blood pound in his temple and into other…places.
A light tugging at his hand and he soon feels the swift exposure of air as his black glove pulls away. He can not see her reaction but Sarah's eyes gleams at his pale, slender – vulnerable looking hands. She swiftly disposes of the other, and drops both to the floor.
She places his gloveless hands on her hips as she presses them down just a little. He tries to discern which shirt she is wearing by its feel. His hands glide down the satiny shirt, in puzzlement, until he got to the hem. There was…
Nothing! Dear God, just skin!
Gasping, the mental picture of her rocks again. Long legs and smooth skin unrestrained by underwear emerge in his mind. One of his shirts!
The little minx is wearing one of my long sleeved poet shirts and nothing else!
He moans as he bends forward out of the chair and kneels before her. Her small hands rake through his wild blonde hair as he continues to blindly graze her legs from knee to sole with unashamed fingers. She wasn't even wearing shoes!
Oh this is too much! You can not expect me to do nothing.
Knelt before her, his mouth is just at the right level. Forgetting that the hard pressure of the floor is hurting his poor knees a sweet idea forms.
Two can play at this game my dear.
Leaning forward he kisses her, where she is most vulnerable. She smells wonderful, like clean linen and as he licks the taste of powerfully erotic dreams. He hears with smug satisfaction her startled gasp and is about to have her continue that alluring sound when she steps away. He mockingly pouts like a charming child whose favorite toy is taken from him.
Soft laughter, the only sound beside gasps and moans to indicate her mood.
He treasures it in his heart.
She pushes him firmly backward so that he is lying prone on the cold uncomfortable floor. He feels her tie his hands together with more scarves, and then place his hands over his head. The angle tightens the muscles under his arms and causes his back to arch just a little, causing smooth muscles to bunch, emphasizing the beauty of his trim upper body.
Continuing the game pet? So be it. Just wait until it is my turn, I will - Ah!
His pants have been undone, surprising the half dressed Goblin King, and the zipper pries apart, the teeth clicking open. He knows she can see his excitement, wants to be his arrogant, unashamed self, and display himself proudly. He would too if the roles were reversed; but it was not Sarah helpless before him, it was he being put on exhibit for her hungry eyes…and that made it hard to not feel…embarrassed.
Still she persists in her slow torture. His pants are dragged off. Naked – The Goblin King denied even his signature black gloves!
Sarah licks her lips with relish, remembering a childhood fairytale she had particularly liked as a child.
The emperor has no clothes…
It is the first time ever in history Jareth can even remember blushing. He feels the heat rise in his face, his throat, and is surprised to feel that he is still as excited, perhaps even more so by this strange turn of events.
Softness strokes his cheek.
Her hand? Another scarf?
He realizes the texture is neither.
The lily in her hand traces down his throat, slightly tickling, leaving a current of heat in its wake. He throws his head back and moans that he wants to end this game, that he will do anything to touch her, taste her, and feel her body. Ignoring his pleas she continues brushing him with her floral wand, as if painting him. Down past his taunt stomach, right above the part of him he desperately wants her to give attention. He growls when she passes it by to traces over his long, pale legs. The flower teases the arc of his foot before sliding up inside his thigh. His body is vibrating, fidgeting, as sweat forms and dot his brow.
Then…soft white petals tap him and trace up his arousal like an errant sigh. It is not enough, he bucks demanding more. Her hand grasps him and his whole body tightens.
"What will you give me my Lord to continue?" he soft voice purrs.
He knows it is a game, she knows he would gladly give his life for her; it had been that way since he first laid eyes on her. He vowed, only a year ago, to always love, protect, and cherish her. It was only a game…and she demanded an answer.
"Everything," he moaned.
"Will you make me your queen?"
"Only if you will accept me as your King." She smiles at that one.
"Will you fulfill my dreams?" she asks demurely, anticipating his answer. She is not after all unaffected by this sexy charade. Her lower body thrums at the sight of her handsome husband, bound and unclothed, for her.
"W-what is it you dream?" he gasps as her hand begins a soft stroking action.
Her body moves though her hand still holds him. She places the lily between his teeth. It is both a funny and erotic picture and Sarah wishes with her whole being she had a camera with her.
"My dream…is to do this," her mouth descends on him. Jareth cries out, his back arching off the floor. His teeth bite through the lily and the raw taste of greenery invades his mouth mingling with the memory of berries and passionate kisses.
She does not stop this time, she is not slow and gentle, and everything is a flurry of smooth actions. Sweat drips off the Goblin King's thighs as his body jerks upward to meet her in bruising lewd kisses. Heart pounding, body flexing, guttural obscenities flying, stars rush pass his eyes under the black fold.
"Sarah!" he cries, his whole body bowing upward in a final attempt to bury itself in her. They hang onto that moment, when both thought their hearts would burst, and then…they fell back to reality.
Sighing, the King relaxes on the floor. The scarf is undone and he can see her sweet, dazed smile. His bound hands curves over her head and he pulls her to him, encircling her with his gratitude and love.
"Thank you Jareth," she whispers into his wild blond strands as she presses her face into his neck.
"Your welcome. Happy anniversary Sarah."
"Happy Anniversary," she replies back.
They hold each other for a little while longer before Jareth sits up. Undoing the scarf around his wrists he quickly binds Sarah's hands. She smiles.
"And… what are you doing?"
He motions his head in the direction of the little table. There is still one wine glass left, half full. She looks back at him, laughing.
"Waste not, want not," he says, his voice coming off between a purr and a growl.
Sarah sighs happily as her husband, the indomitable Goblin King in all his naked glory, picks up the scarf from the floor and ties it around her head.
Finish