Well, what do you know, lightning does strike twice, a small voice in Sarah's non-functioning mind noted dimly above the uproar in her body, just before her rational self gave way completely to the summons of his mouth.
There was no time, no world, not even a self as she felt her mouth open for his, her eyes sliding closed as though in the Escher room once more, once more struggling to accept the limitlessness of pure fantasy, pure desire. His arms crushed her more urgently against him, as if to keep her from falling once more. But Sarah was far from secure. A rush of some enormous feeling seemed to shove her against him, seemed to make it direly necessary for her to slide her hands into his hair, to drag them down the hard muscles of his shoulders and back as if needing to assure her hands of his reality. Mere proximity was not close enough; skin was too far, really, and everywhere, her skin, calling to his through the clothing between them, burned in protest at this intolerable separation. Her hips, guided by his caressing hands but drawn forward of their own accord, were locked to his, as though the strongest magnets in the universe were located in each other's center, binding them together more surely than any magic spell might have. The world had been turned upside down; the necessity of life was not food, or water, but Jareth, only Jareth. Even air was overrated, next to the coursing rightness of his tongue stroking hers. Oxygen was to be caught in thoughtless snatches between adjustments of the lips; it was far more urgent, for reasons her body knew if her brain did not, to return the fierce press of his lips against hers, to move her mouth against his as though seeking to draw some vital element from his warm body to her own, as if the only breathable air was to be drawn from his lungs, not the forgotten, unbearable cold space about them. Her gasp of air as his mouth slipped softly from her was nearly a sob, an instinctive soft, shuddering cry as cold, lonely air took the space his heated lips once had.
When Sarah breathed again, when she dared to drag her gaze up beyond her eyelashes, all she saw was Jareth. His lips were turned into a smug smile and he was gazing at her from but inches away. His body heat still enveloped her, wrapping her in his heady, masculine scent. Once again, she noted dimly, his arms were around her.
Her brain returned in time to register two thoughts:
1.) That man had the uncanny ability to do with his lips what some men could not with whole lifetimes in the bedroom;
2.) And if she did not get her idiot body out of his grasp soon, said idiot body would cooperate quite happily in bringing itself into his more intimate embrace.
"Stop doing that!" she managed to squeak out. She stared at the highest button of his shirt, ignoring the welcoming lines of muscle visible above it, desperately willing her traitorous body to distance itself from his.
His laughter tingled against her skin. "Doing what, pray tell?"
"Making me feel—making me feel—" she stammered. Somehow, saying aloud that his kiss activated the feelings of every erotic dream she'd ever had did not seem as though it would succeed in discouraging him.
"Feeling what, may I ask?" Dear God, did she just see a dimple? Oh, this was so unfair.
"You know, doing that," Sarah muttered. Perhaps for once being flustered around gorgeous males would work to her advantage and drive the Goblin King away.
No such luck. Her eyes closed as he leaned forward again, but they snapped open with surprise as his mouth drifted over her ear. His intimate whisper summoned up some rebellious streak within her lower body, which defied her mind's command and brought her hips once more dangerously close to his. "Sweet Sarah, do you think I would be here now if you were not perhaps 'doing it' as well? Do you know what torture you are for a man, Sarah?" God, he was nuzzling her neck now and from the contact of their bodies, it was quite apparent just how "tortured" he was.
Sarah bit her tongue before it did anything regrettable, like entangling itself again with Jareth's, and forced herself not to respond. "Stop it right now." She wished her voice would sound as if she meant it. "Look, I don't know what sort of person you think I am, but I don't hop into bed with a man just because we kissed. Not everyone takes sex as lightly as you apparently do." She tried frantically to think of a definite reason that would send him running. "In fact, I've vowed to wait until marriage."
She would have been proud of herself for inventing this line, but for the fact Jareth appeared utterly unfazed. He pulled back an inch to look her in the eye and shrugged lightly. "Fine. Marry me." Her jaw fell open and he smirked. "Problem solved. Now, to an early wedding night…?"
She was too shocked by his—his—proposal, her brain fumbled—to even struggle as he pulled her against him once more. "What did you just say?"
He nipped at her ear. "Marry me. The position of my queen happens to be open, you allegedly desire to save yourself for marriage" (she felt him shrug with disbelief) "so why should I not indulge…your every desire?"
Although Sarah did not consider herself a sexist, from her personal experience, normal single men did not typically offer marriage quite so easily. If even at all, she added to herself, remembering her last boyfriend to bolt when the question of a shared future had been raised. And while one could hardly call the Goblin King a normal man, Sarah had a strong sense he did not differ from mortal men in this regard. She studied Jareth's features suspiciously; he returned her gaze with an annoyingly innocent expression. There's a reason for this, there is no way in any world he's serious…He has to have figured out a way to get around a marriage vow, if he's so careless about a proposal... Suddenly, her head jerked up and she attempted to step away, although his arms held her still. "Whoa, there, Mr. I-Can-Reorder-Time! I know what your game is. You mean to seduce me and then turn back time to forget the whole thing! And who said I even liked you, let alone wanted to sleep with you, anyway?"
He laughed out loud. "Darling, I've already said you are quite unforgettable. Twelve years of being unforgettable, in fact," and he tapped her nose lightly while her mouth opened in surprise. "And as for attraction, my dear, those are not my own hands on my…" and he let his voice trail off as his eyes, sparkling wickedly, glanced over his shoulder.
She gasped in horror and jerked her hands off his rear. My God, I was feeling up the Goblin King's ass. Half of her wanted to die; the other half wanted to cheer and luxuriate in the memories. And what an ass it is. Sarah clenched her hands before they could do any more trouble. She brought her rebellious palms up against his chest, trying to push away. He looked down at her merrily, forcing her to make eye contact with him.
"Not that I object at all," he murmured, smirking.
Too humiliated to think up a witty comeback, Sarah leaned her head against his chest to avoid those wicked, wonderful eyes. Or the lips brushing against her temple, making her whimper involuntarily. Or the words, slipping into her ear despite her efforts to block them out. Phrases managed to pierce her consciousness. "Do not fear your desire, my sweet…Just trust me, and I shall be guided by your every wish…Every pleasure shall be yours…Trust me, and I swear it, I will not rest until you have tasted paradise this night…" Her brain fought for her virtue as her body begged to succumb. Think, Williams. Her eyes narrowed as her ears suddenly recognized what she was hearing beyond Jareth's alluring heartbeat. Why is there a Barry White song playing on the stereo? I didn't turn on the stereo! "I did, and the song choice is coming from your thoughts, love," she heard him murmur into her ear. She realized then that the Goblin King had led one of her hands to his shoulder and was now rocking her gently in his arms. Are we actually slow dancing?
She scowled suspiciously and lifted her head. The cat that ate the proverbial canary did not have a more satisfied smile than that on Jareth's face. All because of a kiss, a kiss that should never have happened, damn mistletoe—damn Hoggle, I shouldn't have gone to the party—wait a second, why was Jareth even there to begin with? "Hoggle told me you weren't even going to be at your mother's party—what happened?"
His brow furrowed. "Of course I was to be there, I've no idea why he would tell you I wouldn't…" He gazed into the distance, then his eyes narrowed suddenly. His jaw tightened subtly, and he shook his head. His eyes returned to her then, relaxing, a soft smile tugging up the corner of his mouth. Sarah battled the instinct to trace that curve with her tongue. "Very well done, my dear, you almost distracted me."
"I think you are trying to distract me," she retorted. There was something in his face, a slight tension in the otherwise relaxed and victorious expression, that told her he was hiding something. "Why were you at your mother's party, Jareth?" Another thought hit her through the maddening feelings his proximity provoked. "Why was I invited?"
He sighed impatiently. "Sarah, I knew nothing about your invitation. I was just as surprised as you were, although most pleasantly so, I assure you." He grinned; her knees melted obediently.
She clung to her reason heroically. "But why did your mother let Hoggle invite me? He obviously lied to me about you coming for a reason." She gasped. "Why? There was a plan behind all this, wasn't there? Hoggle was being used again, just like when he gave me the peach. Was it you this time? Your mother? You're after revenge, that's it, right?"
He stopped abruptly. The hands touching her lightly tightened their grip as his expression darkened. "My revenge is not something you would mistake, Sarah. I suggest you do not leap to conclusions," he said icily. She paled—how could she have forgotten how dangerous he was when angered? Points to you yet again, Williams. He seemed to note her fear--his face softened and he leaned closer to her, his golden hair brushing her face. In a low, lovely voice--that damnable, darkly masculine voice that suggested all the pleasures possible in one night--he murmured, "There is no need for us to quarrel… I do believe we are alone, with the night still before us, and I for one would rather not spend this moment discussing anyone else when much more pleasurable topics are at hand…"
She felt one of his hands moving through her hair while the other gently stroked her side, teasing strokes that hinted at what his touch would really be like.
Think, Williams. Think. So, you run into him at the party and he's not exactly thrilled to see you. Then again, I suppose I wouldn't be too happy to meet someone cussing me out, either. And then he turns on the charm, just to torment you and drive you insane. The man is the world's best flirt, no doubt about that. And now he's chased you home and he's apparently hell-bent on getting some, and why shouldn't he think he wouldn't, given the way I fall all over him every chance I get. The hand he had lifted to his shoulder, she suddenly realized, had worked its way around his neck to toy with his hair and even horrified as she was at her involuntary actions, Sarah could not bring herself to draw her fingers away. She watched them toy with the candlelit gold of his hair and caught his triumphant eye. Damn! She sighed. But let's not forget, Williams, he apparently thinks you'll just let him dance you to the bedroom right now—hell, the nearest horizontal surface. He's being a mocking ass, making jokes about marriage just to score. Great. Not only have I managed to engage in physical warfare with a walking fantasy, but he's a commitmentphobe, like just about every other guy I've known. Wham, bam, thank you ma'am, this time with some glitter, but that's all the difference otherwise. That, and he'd probably be fantas—Stop it, Williams! Don't let yourself be used! Have a little pride!
Using all the strength in her body, summoning up all the stored anger against every ex-boyfriend she'd ever had, Sarah broke away and sat down in a chair, scowling at him.
He watched her with a bemused expression, crossing his arms slowly over his chest with the slow grace of a panther stretching. Still but alert, he stood there, gazing at her.
He didn't seem to be in the mood to say anything, so she broke the silence first. Well, the silence between them. Now her CD player from hell was helpfully supplying them with an Al Green song. First thing tomorrow, that's going in the trash. "Look, I think I've made it clear, this isn't going any further. I don't know you and I don't know what you are about, other than to sleep with me, and that's not going to happen." She dug her nails into the chair as her body instinctively went warm with the thought. Then she froze as the CD player switched songs. For a horribly long moment the room was silent but for an infamous DeVinyls song. There was no looking at him with that on the stereo. Sarah blushed to the roots of her hair and kept her eyes averted.
Mercifully—if one could call it that—the Satanic CD player switched to "Wild is the Wind." She swallowed finally and hazarded a glance at Jareth. He at least appeared serious now, his mouth a set line, eyes trained upon her. Noting her gaze, he raised an eyebrow coolly and cocked his head. "No, you don't know me, Sarah, or what I want."
"Well, what do you want?" she blurted out before she could stop herself.
"I want," he began and strode forward. She dug her fingernails further into the chair, knowing an escape attempt would only provide him with the opportunity to capture her in his arms again. Those arms…She was knocked out of her reverie as Jareth knelt by the chair and suddenly, the glass slipper was in his hand again. She stared at him as he slipped it on her foot, a whimsical smile on his face. Then he glanced at her, shrugged lightly, and she felt the slipper disappear. "You…to come back with me. I want…" His light smile vanished as his eyes devoured hers, searching her face intently. "To know how you fit in this story. I want…to explore…this," he murmured, and his gloved finger slid over her cheek before she could bring herself to move away.
Sarah stared at him, hysteria bubbling up in her throat. She tried not to listen to the awful urge within her that wanted to burst out either laughing or sobbing. Oh, dear God. I've stumbled into an Underground version of "The Bachelor," and next thing you know, he'll start talking about going on "a journey" with me and wanting to find out where "the journey" ends. Or maybe I won't be the girl he picks; maybe I won't get a rose and I'll be the next person booted in the rose ceremony. Even in her semi-hysteria, something dark clawed at her inside as she imagined Bachelor-Jareth rejecting her for another woman. Great, now I know I'd be the rejectee who throws jealous tantrums and is the butt of everybody's jokes online the next day. That did it: she giggled.
"Mmmm?" Jareth inquired indulgently, his eyes amused. Sarah's humor left her abruptly as she had the distinct feeling he knew just what she'd been thinking. While he might not be a devotee of reality television, or television at all, she had no doubt he could understand the gist of her thoughts. Her eyes narrowed.
"Jareth, you want to explore my body, not 'this,' which doesn't exist. And no, that is not an invitation."
"Tsk-tsk, Sarah. Where did you learn that it is not possible to be both…intrigued…by a person and desire her, as well?" He leaned in, his voice dropping conspiratorially as he drew his fingertip slowly up her thigh. "And I do assure you, as you seem quite worried about it, your body is on my to-do list and will receive my most complete and thorough attention, as it pleases you."
"That's it!" She put her hands on his shoulders---nice, well-muscled, arrgh!—and pushed him back. "You don't know me, I don't know you, and I am certainly not going to drop my life just to be your sex toy of the day. Or night, or whatever. I am worth a little more than that, thanks. Take your conceited ass back to your little goblin world and work off your urges elsewhere. I don't see why you bothered coming here at all," she finished, grumbling. "It's not like you would have a problem finding women for your bed."
"Oh?" He smirked. Oh, why, why don't I ever think before I speak? She wailed to herself. Sarah jerked her eyes up to meet his again. Proximity to those lips could be deadly to a woman. "Now, why is that? Perhaps you are—what is the mortal word, ah, yes—projecting? Are you saying you find me rather irresistible, Sarah?"
She scowled and snapped back. "We're not talking about your looks."
His eyes were laughing as he continued. "Ahh, so what else makes me irresistible to you? My wit and charm? My obvious skills as a lover?" She gritted her teeth and slid her hands under her thighs to avoid slapping him. The teasing light went out of his eyes briefly as he suddenly was at her ear, whispering, "The fact I can and do offer you your every dream?" To her horror, something warm worked its way through her body and made her squirm as his lips drifted too close to her ear.
She jumped in the chair and jerked away. "You are a conceited ass and that I can resist very easily, thankyouverymuch."
"But you do not deny the rest." His eyes twinkled as he appeared before her again. When did he become so happy? She blinked in confusion as he leaned away from her. "My love, I see your dawn approaches and you are in need of rest before…I deprive you of it." He smirked deliciously again. Damn him! "I will forego your enchanting company for the moment, but Sarah—"
"What?" she snapped, instantly regretting it.
"I will have you," he whispered, a finger caressing her lip. Sarah forgot to breathe and stared at him, feeling his eyes drift slowly over her face. The emotion in his eyes was unreadable as his fingertip traced her lips. Against her will, she found them parting, the tip of her tongue emerging for his thoughtful touch, and a tiny whimper escaped her. His eyes jumped abruptly to hers again. "Dream of me, love. I will dream of you."
The room was suddenly dark, quiet, and cool again. The music had vanished, the candles had gone, even the Christmas tree was dimmed, but the vicious ache within her had only increased in his absence.
"Oh, God, why me?" Sarah moaned, turning her head into her hand. Her other hand fell from the arm of the chair onto her lap, knocking into an object there. She glanced down curiously and groaned. Prince Charming had, naturally, not forgotten to leave her slipper with her. And a rose.
"I hate him!"
* * *
