A/N: Takes place the morning after Sarah defeats the Labyrinth. Enjoy!

Impasse No Longer

It has been less than twelve hours since last he saw her, and yet he craves her still. Sitting on her bed, under a cloak of darkness lit only by the tentative fingers of sunrise creeping over the horizon and into her room, the Goblin King brushes onyx hair from her alabaster cheeks and sighs.

They have reached an impasse, the two of them. Neither will give in.

Her brother decided both their fates ultimately. Sarah's decision hinged on the love she had for her brother, and the love – as yet unexplored – that she could have with him. He knew this. And even still, he chose to have the boy in plain sight! He had been so sure that she would accept him – he who had turned the world upside down for her, he who had re-ordered the stars. Who would not choose the man who would make her Queen over a squalling, snotty infant brother? Apparently, she would. One of the many things that made unlike all others. She was strong, and she was different. He knew this and still he underestimated her. But now – in the aftermath of her victory and triumphant party – it was clear that she was his equal in every way.

His hands – long, elegant hands, hands that, in another life would belong to a professional pianist – stroke the smooth, creamy column of her throat. She shivers. It would seem she fears him still, even as thoroughly ensconced in unconsciousness as she is. This is wise of her, and even as he grieves for her lack of trust in him, he commends her for it. She should fear him – his powers being what they are. Her words and deeds – every defiant, enraging, goddamn seductive tilt of her head – could get her killed.

He has many facets, but most see only the most frightening. The unforgiving, formidable warrior is the face he wears in front of those who are foolish enough or evil enough to wish away their young. The haughty, demanding monarch is shown to his subjects and underlings. As all other society deserted him long ago, he has been restricted to these intimidating personas. Then she came along, with that fire in her emerald eyes, and that iron force of will hidden in her supple young mortal body. The seductive, amorous king he could be latched onto that in a heartbeat – he wanted her. Wet, warm and wanting. In his bed. Now. – And thus he discovered parts of himself he never knew existed. She seemed to strip him of all his pretences with a single glance, and leave him achingly raw. Suddenly, he was a gentle, caring lover, and a single word from her could break him. And Gods, how it scared him. And this weakness of his angered him, driving him to hurt her in order to conceal his fatal weakness. A king cannot be weak.

Her face moves towards him, aware of his presence even as she sleeps on. The sun has risen fully now, and though she slumbers deeply still, he know he must leave lest she wake. With one final, tender, intimate caress, he stands. About to transform into an owl and fly, her sharp intake of breath stops him. The rustling of sheets catapults him into action. Quickly, he recedes into the remaining shadows of her room, hiding on the off-chance she has woken and might see him. Not that he does not wish to be with her, but he does not think he can handle a second rejection, not so soon. Her first still aches within his breath, and a second might kill them both: her death in his anger, and his broken heart and unwillingness to live without her.

"Jareth," she moans, and his eyes focus on her. Her back is arched, her body taught with, if he's not mistaken…anticipation – but anticipation of what?

She moans his name again, and her fingers search the sheets for another body. He marvels at the tantalizing picture she paints: her dark hair mussed, her cheeks flushed, glowing in the sunrise. Half dressed in a white t-shirt that is riding up, showing the tops of creamy thighs, she looks like an angel descended from the heavens for a tryst with a lover.

He frowns, not liking that train of thought. The only lover she is allowed to have is him – but only when she is ready. He will not force her hand. Look how well that turned out the last time. But the question still remains: who is she dreaming about?

She moans his name again in her sleep, and whispers breathlessly "Don't stop." He smirks. That answers that. It would seem that Sarah does dream of him, rejection notwithstanding. Might as well give her something good to dream about, he thinks, and grins lasciviously.

Stepping silently towards the bed, he bends down to whisper in her ear.

"Sarah," he coos, his voice husky. "Do you have any idea what I want to do to you? You've seduced me, you precious thing."

She moans again, and he nips her ear, his hot breath raising goose bumps on her ear. He trails kisses from her ear towards her mouth. He knows she is waking, and can't bring himself to care. She turns her head, and suddenly he's kissing her and he knows she still hates him and this doesn't change anything but he can't bring himself to care because Gods she tastes so good and his hands are fisted in her hair and her arms are around him and her soft body is yielding to his and–

"Jareth," Her voice is breathless, her cheeks flushed and her chest heaving. She's awake now, but all he knows is that she's pulled away and she looks so delectable. With an animalistic growl, he claims her mouth again in one fierce, punishing kiss. Then he breaks away, runs over to the window and throws himself out, transforming as he goes. The Goblin King flies away, not looking back.

Sarah sits up in the wreckage of sheets that was her bed, gasping for breath as she tries to calm her racing heart. Less than twelve hours ago, she defeated him and left his Labyrinth. But she craves him still.