I've been hedging around publishing this for the last week. What can I say other than I'm always a little nervous, but it is what it is. Let the rotten peaches fly, I'll turn them into wine. *lol*
In other news: King's Pavilion tickets purchased for the Labyrinth Masquerade. *dances* Next step, material shopping for the gowns.
~*O*~
Chapter Revised 7/22/17
~*O*~
She didn't miss the way his eyes drifted over her, and she took a moment to consider his question. She'd known something else was in play from the moment he'd confronted her in the tunnels, in the way his eyes flicked over her, in the silky tones he'd used when he spoke to her. At fifteen, she'd been keenly aware of his sexuality, a subject that was taboo for her at that age, and he'd practically dripped with it, but…she'd been too young to have the knowledge or experience to play his game on that level yet. A boon for her, or she might well have failed her quest. Her very innocence had been her shield, one he'd tried to breach during the dream and again during the final confrontation. No, she hadn't been ready then, but with no one's fate but her own hanging in the balance, she was more than ready now. Hell, she'd invited it. 'If you can't take the heat, don't tickle the dragon,' and she'd definitely tickled the dragon.
Sarah raised her glass to her lips, never taking her eyes from his as she let the bourbon burn slowly down her throat before giving him an answer. "Fine, but I'm not doing that whole thirteen-hour thing again."
"Oh? Why not? It was so delightfully entertaining." His lips twitched with suppressed humor, his eyes dancing with a glimmer of laughter.
Rolling her eyes, she pushed against him and ducked under his arm, setting her glass down on the table. "For you, maybe. I was a bit too preoccupied to fully enjoy the experience," she replied with droll sarcasm as she walked over to a pool table, trailing her fingers along the pitted wooden rails. She paused at the end, her head cocked to the side, thinking as her fingers drummed to the beat of Fame. A thought struck her, and she turned to face him with a grin. "Have you ever played pool?"
He set his glass down beside hers and stepped over to the rack on the wall, selecting two cue sticks from the array that hung there. "I haven't had the pleasure in some time, but yes, I know the game." He flicked a sideways glance at her. "Is this the game you wish to play?"
She studied him as he came over to the table, finding herself mesmerized by his languid grace as he seated himself along the edge nearest her, the cue sticks leaning negligently against his shoulder. "Nothing remotely extravagant by your standards, I'm sure, but…it could be fun. Although, I have a hard time imagining you playing it," she said, breaking her gaze away from him with some effort. She stooped to pull the rack and balls from their storage area in the table, setting them up on the green felted surface. She paused, looking over the balls as a ridiculous thought occurred to her. "Then again, maybe not so farfetched," she added as she stood up, placing the last of the balls into the rack, save one. With a small flourish, she held the black eight-ball toward him on the tips of her fingers, a sly smile on her lips as he quirked an eyebrow at her.
"Are you offering me my dreams, Sarah?"
She laughed at the absurdity of the idea. "The only magic I've ever seen in an eight-ball is 'reply hazy, try again,'" she replied dryly. Then her expression sobered as she stared at the ball in consternation, her brows knitted as the potential implication of her words dawned on her.
With a faint smile, he reached over and plucked the black ball from her fingertips, his eyes dark in the dim lighting. "Perhaps now we should set the stakes."
Sarah visibly shook herself from her daze, looking at him as his words sank in. "Of course," she murmured and sighed. "What did you have in mind?"
His gaze drifted over the pool table, settling on the triangular rack of balls. "One question answered for each shot a player manages to pocket in their own suit."
"Questions? That's it?" She'd expected something a little less subtle…or maybe more subtle, she couldn't decide, but then, this was Jareth. She glanced at him suspiciously. "What sort of questions?"
"Anything you wish, but you must answer the question and," he held up a finger for emphasis, "answer it with complete honesty, or forfeit the game."
She considered this. "And what is the price of a forfeit?"
"Do you plan to forfeit, Sarah?" he asked, amusement in his tone.
"That really depends on the question, doesn't it?" she responded, though they both knew it wasn't in her nature. Her eyes fell on the black eight-ball resting in the palm of his gloved hand. "And that one?"
"Ah, this," he said, a slow smile spreading over his lips as he caught her eyes. With a twist of his wrist, he sent the ball spinning around his hand in one quick movement, too fast for her to follow. He leaned toward her then, displaying a smoky black crystal on his fingertips. "Let us test your theory on a magic eight-ball. The victor may ask it to reveal a dream. If conditions are favorable, it will grant it."
Sarah stared warily at the crystal.
"Are you afraid?" he asked, his voice deceptively mild.
She glanced at him sharply. "Dreams can be interpreted in many ways, Jareth. Define 'favorable.'"
"Very well." He settled back, favoring her with an indulgent expression. "Do you suppose it would be prudent to have a unicorn traipsing about Aboveground?"
She couldn't help the burst of laughter at the unlikely image of a unicorn suddenly prancing its way down the middle of a busy city street. The havoc created would be immeasurable. She shook her head, a wry smile on her lips. "Obviously not. However, I think my dreams have moved a bit beyond such childish fantasies."
He gave a slight nod, a roguish smirk playing at the corners of his lips. "Then, perhaps, it is my dreams that warrant your apprehension."
Catching the suggestive undertone in his words, she cast him a contemplative look. "And perhaps you should be a little more circumspect regarding mine," she replied evenly, a coquettish twinkle in her eyes as she leaned toward him, letting her fingers brush ever so lightly across his as she took the crystal from his hand. She could feel his eyes studying her with renewed interest as she placed it gently into the position usually occupied by the eight-ball and smoothly racked the balls. She glanced at him out of the corner of her eye. "Tell me, will you be bound by the same rules I am?"
"Clever girl," his grin was approving. "I will, of course, be bound by the same set of rules as I seem to distinctly remember your penchant for fairness."
The jibe awarded him a caustic look, and he grinned wider when she pointedly ignored him. She carefully removed the rack and slipped it back into its storage, turning to face him as he stood up and offered her one of the pool sticks.
"How would you like to decide the break?" she asked coolly, still refusing to acknowledge his taunt as she took the proffered stick and chalked the tip.
"Why, ladies first," he replied with a courteous bow and a mischievous smile. Sarah eyed him with a dubious expression, shaking her head in bemusement. It was reasonably clear he was up to something, and every warning bell she possessed was screaming with it.
Walking around to the opposite side of the table, she leaned forward to place the cue ball on the slate, sizing up the break shot. She jumped, slightly startled, when she felt him behind her, his hands grasping her waist and lightly pulling her to him as he angled his head over her shoulder. She hadn't realized that he'd followed her so closely. Or maybe he hadn't, a small part of her mind reasoned rationally before taking flight as his pale blond hair tickled along the back of her neck and shoulder. There was something distinctly sensual about that, she decided, her heightened awareness to his proximity already threatening to unravel her senses.
"One more thing," he said, the pleasant timbre of his voice like velvet in her ear, sending a delightful trail of shivers up her spine that made her pulse race and caused the hairs at the nape of her neck to rise. She closed her eyes as a tingling flush of heat pooled low in her abdomen and waged a brief battle to keep her errant breathing in check. Emerging victorious, if only briefly, she leaned slightly away to turn a questioning look at him. He responded with an upward tilt of his brow and a predacious gleam in his eyes, patently aware of her reaction, then directed her attention toward the table with a nod of his head. Looking down, she watched, fascinated, as he made a gesture toward the cue ball; the creamy white color shimmered and swirled until it became a milky colored crystal. "Scratch and you must fulfill a challenge. Refuse, and you also forfeit."
"So, what, is this like the crystal billiards version of truth or dare?" she asked facetiously.
He chuckled in response. "Just making things...interesting," he replied, deliberately ghosting the last word along the side of her neck, his lips not quite making contact with her skin. Her senses prickled in response, and not in an adverse way. She wasn't going to lie to herself, the feel of him against her back gave her a tantalizing thrill, but while her body was busy betraying her, her mind was thinking.
He wanted interesting? She could do interesting. Since he seemed so very intent on trying to unnerve her—and, damn him, it was working—it was only fair that she reciprocated. Without a second thought, Sarah leaned back and pressed herself tightly against him, feeling the firm musculature of his thighs against hers, the solidity of his chest, the hard contour of his pendant as it pressed into her back. His hands instinctively grasped her hips tighter for balance, and she smiled to herself when she heard his breathing falter and then halt as she knowingly brushed against other, more intimate, parts of his anatomy. Canting her head back to his shoulder, she savored the silky caress of his hair across her cheek and breathed in his scent as it flared stronger around her, accompanied by a feeling like soft static that rippled and hummed in the air surrounding them.
Not as cool, calm, and collected as you make yourself out to be, are you, Goblin King? she thought impishly as she turned her head along his shoulder to whisper in his ear. "Have you forgotten? '…my will is as strong as yours.'"
He let his breath out slowly as he shifted her just enough to see her face, bringing his hand up to trail smooth, gloved fingers along the side of her jaw until they curled beneath her chin and tilted her face to make her look into his eyes. There was something dark and wild there, and for an ephemeral moment, she saw that darkness engulf his entire bearing, the static hum surrounding them pulsing in response to the piercing intensity of his gaze. Or maybe that was the music, she thought dazedly, the dark, soft rock tones of Isn't it Midnight seeming to meld with the atmosphere. She blinked, and the darkness vanished, but the enigmatic way he looked at her remained.
"You play a dangerous game, Sarah," he said, his voice low. Husky? Yes, definitely husky, she decided, almost a purr that let her know she was dancing on the wild side of licentious temptation.
"Wasn't that the point of you deciding to show up here? To play a game?" she questioned, unable to keep her own voice from reflecting the backlash effect he was having on her, resulting in her words coming out on a slightly breathy note. She felt the hand on her hip tighten, and his eyes flashed with carnal intent as they lowered from her eyes to her mouth, his thumb rubbing lightly across her chin and bottom lip. Her heart raced, her breath stilled. She was playing with fire at the entrance to the dragon's lair.
"To finish a game, one which you seem intent on upping the stakes for," he stated, his tone caught somewhere between wonder and admiration for her self-assurance.
"I'm not the one that wagered with dreams, Jareth, either then or now." She lowered her lashes, concealing the burst of playful provocation that lurked there. "I play to win. The question that remains is...are you sure you can still live up to my expectations?"
She felt the rumble of his amusement as it vibrated through her. "Of that, I have no doubt, exhausting creature that you are," he replied, releasing her and stepping back, leaving her senses reeling in the wake of his sudden withdrawal.
Bold advance, tactical retreat. Sarah realized in an instant of clarity that, although she may have instigated the game in front of them, it was nothing more than a façade, a thinly veiled gateway with the distinct likelihood of leading to more interesting endeavors. The real game, the one rife with the weighty veneer of their appetence, was being played in the defining actions of a long-awaited seduction. She'd had plenty of time to consider the implications of his behavior during her run, had analyzed every possible meaning drawn from both book and actions, and had come to a startling conclusion some years before. Armed now with understanding and experience, she'd come back into play a worthy opponent, assertively picking up where he'd been forced to leave off. In addition, she realized this was the perfect opportunity to satisfy a few of her curiosities, and she realized, too, that there was something in the story she wanted to validate, something that would have a lasting impact on the outcome of this venture, one way or another.
Regaining her composure, she smirked at him over her shoulder as she resumed her position at the table, leveling her pool stick at the shimmering crystal cue ball. She paused momentarily, then tossed him an incisive look that promised hell to pay with her next words. "No cheating. I'm quite well aware you could pocket this entire table in two seconds flat."
He laughed as she struck the cue ball, sending it forward in a solid break that scattered the balls evenly across the table, observing with interest the odd clinking sound of the crystals as they collided with the more mundane object balls. As they slowed and rolled to a stop, she watched the solid red ball drop into a far corner pocket. She straightened and propped herself against the table, her lips pursed in thought.
Deciding what questions to ask was a more difficult task than she'd anticipated, and she had no ready line of questioning. There were, of course, a number of questions that she could ask him, but most of them related to their prior history. Though she was intensely curious in his answers for some of those, when it came down to it, she had to admit she really knew very little about the Goblin King himself aside from the careful gleanings of conversations with her friends. None of them had ever suspected a thing, of course, and plied with subtle motivation over a game of his beloved Scrabble (and these days, thirty-year scotch), it was Sir Didymus's glib tongue that proved most willing to share tidbits of information regarding his monarch.
Of course, these were no comparison to being in the dominating presence of the King himself. Though it was increasingly difficult not to be overwhelmed by the sheer power and predatory nature that radiated from him, the stubborn determination and natural defiance that served as part of her inherent disposition would not let her succumb to his charms that easily unless she allowed it. However, unsurprisingly, she found she was only too willing to comply if it were not for the principle of the matter. She had to at least try to give as good as she got, and that was a challenge in itself, and only seemed to heighten the intensity of their interactions. This, she suspected, was what served their mutual fascination with each other now. She honestly didn't think there was more to it than that.
Still, she had constructed a very different view of him than the one she had built at fifteen, and it only served to make her want to learn more about him. That, she decided, was where she should start. After all, games of this nature were meant to sate curiosities, and she was definitely curious about him, and didn't he say he spent time Aboveground?
~*O*~
While I have been having a bit of fun writing this, I mostly blame the wine for how it lays out and I just let it ride (apparently, my muse seems to like me better on the nights I'm slightly intoxicated).
Also, the pool game isn't going to follow anything more than the bar house rules I grew up on, so don't expect a by the book game. *lol*
"Fame" - David Bowie, 1978
"Isn't it Midnight" - Fleetwood Mac, 1987 (this particular song is part of the inspiration for this story. I've always felt that many Stevie Nicks and Fleetwood Mac songs could pertain to J/S. Yes, it is highly likely "Rooms on Fire" will make an appearance as well, sue me).
Crystalline Dreams,
~*~ Sheyrina, Labyrinthian Dragon
Chapter Posted 2/25/17