Pieces
In which there are consequences for Sarah and Jareth's nocturnal escapades, but only Sarah is surprised.
It was, quite simply, a very interesting - and thoroughly enjoyable - night. Magical monarchs clearly had a leg up in the sex department. Often literally.
Sarah traced the line of Jareth's chest as she lay curled into him, watching the reflection of his skin on hers. "You know, afterglow is typically a metaphorical expression."
A deep chord of laughter rumbled through him. "Look who's talking."
She froze, and then pulled her hand away from him, scrutinizing it. Hot damn. That luminescence wasn't just a reflection. It was almost a pulse, the glow gently rising and falling in time to her heartbeat, shimmering just beneath the skin.
It should have been alarming. Quite alarming, in fact. She tried very hard to summon an appropriate amount of panic and angst for several long moments.
It simply wouldn't come.
Pretty, said her mind. Very pretty. Tra la la. There was a definite burbling joy in those thoughts that was...unusual. The last time she'd experienced that particular flavor of effervescence, she'd been riding a ridiculously pronounced sugar high. (Weeeeeeeee - shiny!)
She shook her head. Okay, enough of that. Her hand dropped back to his chest. "I should probably be more concerned about this."
"But?"
"But I'm singularly unmotivated at the moment. It's rather nice to match you." She kissed the join of his shoulder, nuzzling into his neck.
Satisfaction flared in his half-closed eyes as he traced a light circle over her shoulder blade. "Then I probably shouldn't bother tempting you with knowledge of the why of it."
"Nah, tempt away." She nipped at his skin, tasting salt and wintergreen. "I'll just add it to the list." The sing-song overtones were humming something in the back of her mind. It was a sparkle and flick of...a suggestion. "I don't suppose you do loans?"
He turned to look at her, one eyebrow raised. "How so?"
(Such pretty eyes so close), burbled one sing-song voice, (owl and fox and wolf and man all together.) She blinked slowly, climbing past the other zinging whispers. "You give me the information I want up front, and I pay you back over time, with interest."
"Interest, you say? Very promising."
"A reasonable amount, though. Something I agree to beforehand. For example, all the Sundays for the rest of my life is probably right out." She paused, squelching the mental chorus that expressed its dismay. "Well, unless the information is detailed enough to warrant it, I suppose."
His eyes flashed bird bright and thoroughly attentive. "And how would you know the information is detailed enough to warrant that interest?"
"Why, I'd probably need a sample up front, I suppose." She smiled at him, feeling the chorus of (yesyesyesyes) singing through her.
His eyes darkened with longing and wariness. "I've seen that smile before. It eventually bodes ill for the viewer."
"And where have you seen it?" A voice zinged a flippant suggestion. "In the mirror?"
"Sometimes." Something unspoken hung from that word, something tangled and deep.
"There's a story to that too, isn't there?" She caressed a finger along the line of his cheek.
He raised a hand to cover hers, capturing it, halting it. "Always." It was almost a warning.
(Thhhhhbbbbttt), pouted the mental chorus. She lifted her chin so that her mouth was a breath from his. "Well then, perhaps now is an excellent time for a pre-loan information sample."
A half-smile flickered at her. "And I'm to trust this isn't just a ploy for free information?"
"Well, of the two of us, who's the self-proclaimed Magnificent Bastard?"
"I'm beginning to wonder."
(Psssst pssssst), whispered another half-voice, (try this). She blinked slowly again. "You could give me something that's worth today at least. I've already agreed to stay till tonight, so it would just move the information trade forward half a day or so." Her lips curled into a wicked smile showing teeth. "Give me something good, MB, and we'll negotiate."
He smiled as he kissed her, a soft and growly thing full of possession. "Are you quite sure you don't have latent Magnificent Bastard tendencies?"
She pulled at his lower lip with her teeth, eliciting a thoroughly satisfying snarl that rippled down her spine. "There something about this glow I should know about maybe? Or that smile you've seen in the mirror?"
He drew back and rubbed a thumb slowly across her shoulder. "Maybe there is. Would you accept something about that as your sample?"
"Better make it juicy if it's supposed to tempt me to give up all my Sundays forever to you."
"Is that a yes?"
(Yesyesyesyesyes), harmonized the mental voices joyfully. She blinked slowly. "Yes."
"Well then, I'll see what I can do."
There was a sudden intake of breath, hushed and anticipatory. It had come from somewhere beyond the bed.
Sarah looked at Jareth.
Jareth looked terrifying.
He was preternaturally still, the all-too-familiar hungry shadows and demonic pools of malice suddenly dripping off him like cold, enveloping silk. A thread of it slid along his thumb to her shoulder in a thoroughly intimate caress, and she shivered even as the burbling mental voices purred. "Um," she whispered, "can you not do that?"
"Hush." His voice was like a dagger, his muscles deceptively relaxed. "Show yourselves."
There was a clatter, followed by several hisses of a decidedly goblin variety. Two figures appeared slowly at the foot of the bed, their forms indistinct in the half-light.
Jareth's features were an imperious mask as the shadows stretched forward, though his body relaxed. "Explain yourselves."
The first figure swallowed hard, holding a rather nice-looking top hat and linen handkerchief in his hands as he stepped forward. "We meant no disrespect, your majesty, we-"
"Stop." Jareth closed his eyes for a moment, his cold silken aura retracting a hair's breath. "Why are you holding my top hat and handkerchief and wearing a blonde wig?"
The goblin swallowed again, shifting his eyes away. "Just trying to get the details right, your highness."
"Of?" The hungry shadows were melting away now, and a certain well-worn exasperation tripped through Jareth's voice.
"Why, the courtship, of course, your highness." The goblin blinked, as if this were obvious.
The other figure stepped forward then, a goblin in a red sparkly dress and a long dark-haired wig. He was nodding vigorously. "It's a very important story! Needs to be told right."
Jareth closed his eyes and took a measured breath. Several very silent moments passed.
"Not as dense as you thought, are they?" Sarah whispered.
"I will find a way to murder that portrait. This is all his doing." He opened his eyes and looked at the goblins. "Do I even want to know why you're wearing that ensemble?"
The second goblin sniffed reprovingly. "Artistic license. Fancy dress ball's much more romantic than card games for a courtship."
Sarah clamped down hard on a desperate giggle that had too many sing-song voices behind it. "Speak for yourself. That was some mighty fine handwork from his majesty."
The first goblin was reproachful. "Well, we didn't get to see it properly, did we? Had to skulk in the shadows just to get a glimpse." He grumbled, half to himself, "Best story, and we have to get it piecemeal."
Jareth's eyes flashed, slick and dangerous. "So this isn't the first time you've trespassed tonight?"
Both goblins gulped loudly, together, and trembled. The first goblin's voice came soft and forlorn, almost pleading. "We've been waiting so long, your majesty. We've missed the Lady."
There was an unmistakable capital in that word, and Sarah looked at him quizzically. "What do you mean? I'm here every week."
"Yes," the second goblin chirped, "but now you're closer than ever-" He cut off with a small shriek as ice tendrils snapped around him.
Sarah glanced at Jareth, who was wearing a look of controlled fury. And the hungry shadows were back, layered and reaching.
"Closer to what?" Sarah whispered into the brittle silence.
Jareth's voice was razor wire, echoing with too many chittering, hissing, edged notes. "Get out."
The top-hatted goblin unbowed his head for a moment, giving Sarah a deliberate look. "Take the loan, my lady. Stay with us." And then his courage apparently fled, since he turned abruptly and dragged the other goblin skittering away.
The shadows lurched forward to bite. There was a terrified screech before glacier cold settled, the shadows writhing around the bed.
Sarah turned towards Jareth and spoke softly. "It's just me now. Can you reign in the vengeful god attributes?"
He was frozen, menacing.
She touched his chest, the skin above his heart where their glows are rising and falling so fast together. "Jareth?" She lifted her hand to caress his locked jaw. "MB? Look at me."
His eyes turned to her, and the sing-song chorus fluttered in satisfaction, humming pleased chords of recognition. (Fierce and prickly love.)
He looked at her, their glowing skin reflecting off each other, and the shadows receded.
She leaned her head against his shoulder, tracing circles on his chest for quite some time. At last, she spoke. "I'd say you orchestrated that little performance to tip my decision, but that comment about murdering your portrait was genuine. A little forward, is he?"
Silence spilled hard between them.
She refused to let it stay. "Come on now, MB. Let's start with this glow and smile business and go from there. I'll give you an additional Sunday for it right up front." Her fingers slid along the plane of his chest, the ridges of his ribs, down to the smooth skin of his stomach with its golden line of hair.
His hand clapped down on hers. "A month of Sundays for information about the glow only."
"Two Sundays."
"Two months of Sundays."
"You're going the wrong direction in this negotiation."
An edge of a smile flashed. "It'll be worth it."
"You're insufferable." There was a relieved fondness in her voice.
A hint of familiar merriment twinkled back. "And with excellent hearing."
"Says you - three Sundays, glow only."
"Three months of Sundays."
"Still going the wrong direction."
"Says you."
She drummed her fingers beneath his. "I'm tempted to hurl things at you again."
"You should. It'd be tension-relieving for us all."
"Us all? Who else is here now?"
His eyes traveled slowly over her face. "Depends on how many voices you're hearing now, doesn't it?"
Her breath stopped as the sing-song chorus happily pinged and twirled. (Hellooooooooooo, darliiiiiiiing. Weeeeeee!)
"Well, how many is it?"
She swallowed. "A chorus of them. Too many to count."
He nodded. "I thought as much. Three months of Sundays."
"What?"
"Three months of Sundays and I'll tell you about the voices, which are more or less permanent. They're related to the glow, which isn't."
She stared at him, noting his neutral calm and trying hard to hang onto her temper. "You knew this would happen, didn't you?"
"I suspected. Well?"
"Three months of Sundays." The not-chimes of Faerie promises tinkled softly. "Start talking."
Satisfaction flickered in his eyes. "The voices are like...filaments. They're remnants of the primordial creative power that once resided here with us." He paused, as if holding the words to come against his tongue. "We called her Memory."
She let that roll around for several moments to soft mental peals of (Like yoooooouuu, but not yooooouuu! But we like yooooooouuuuuuu! Yesyesverymuch. Happy to staystaystay.) "So why did our amorous escapades cause these filaments to find me, when they never have before?"
His lips quirked in a half-smile. "Do you remember I mentioned about like attracting like? I was Memory's Consort. Like a moon to her sun, with my retinue of stars behind me."
"Poetic." (Always was, fierce love, good with words. Like him, loooove him, and all his little star-lings...) Sarah tried to hush them. It was like swatting at extremely friendly butterflies. She blinked slowly. "Okay, so these guys are here to stay. Side note: I am so not happy with you about that right now. How do you keep a thought together with their constant buzzing?"
He absently rubbed his thumb along her wrist. "You adapt. They adapt. Though I'd forgotten how excitable these particular ones were. They'll settle."
"Hmph, and the glow?"
"An initial integration side effect."
She moved her hand next to his, watching the rippling glow beneath both their skins. "Ah, so you're hearing them, too. Are they the same ones?"
"Similar most likely. The creative power of these is shared between us, I think."
"Well, do yours sound like an excitable gaggle of schoolgirls with a penchant for shiny things?"
He smiled. "I'd say excitable schoolboys for mine, but yes, that about covers it."
"Schoolboys, eh? Adolescent variety with a one-track mind?"
"The very same."
She shook her head. "Do I even want to know why the primordial creative forces of this mystical pair bond have hijacked the essence of a highschool romance?"
"Mmm, I've always surmised it has to do with intensity of the feelings generated at that time. Biologically, humans of that age are primed to experience thoroughly intense emotions, all out of proportion to true events."
"And that's the most appropriate incarnation for this relationship because...?"
His teeth glinted in the half-light. "They're not out of proportion for us."
(See? We're appropriate. Veryvery much so. Yes. Appropriate. Fitting. Thbbbbtttt.) Sarah blinked slowly again. "And how long does it take them to settle?"
His soft laughter slid across her, warm and familiar. "You know, I don't actually remember. It's been a long time. We'll know when the glow is gone."
She closed her eyes, and turned into his shoulder so she could inhale the wintergreen scent of him. (Mmmmm, delicious. Loooove him.) Hush, all of you. "And what if I don't want it? Any of it. I didn't exactly sign up to be your new goddess."
"Has a nice ring to it, though, doesn't it? Goddess." There was a deliberate curl of temptation there, sliding like silk.
She snorted softly. "I was thinking more along the lines of 'I am in such deep shit', but sure."
His laughter chimed, amused and knowing. "Yes, well perhaps that, too. But this part is a team effort, at least." His lips pressed against her neck."With definite side benefits."
She kicked him gently. "Do you actually care about me? Or is this just a magnificent consolidation of primordial creation powers for you?"
"Both really ought to be an option. Never miss an opportunity and all." His voice held throaty notes of pleasure that made her want to bury herself in his chest.
(Yesyeses, do this, doooooo it, weeeee!) Quiet, now. "Hmph. And what if I were to just give you my filaments?" (Noooooooooo, we like yoooooou.) Shhhh!
"You can't."
"I've got Memory's seed and my half of all this castle's pair bond filaments twining through me right now." She waggled her glowing fingers. "Can't is a funny word for a primordial creative force."
A curious chord of resentment and longing thrummed in his voice. "Both roots can't lie inside me."
"Why not? Have you tried?"
He hissed softly, baring teeth. "Yes."
Silence hung between them, though her mental chorus was burbling with smugness. "That wasn't actually the answer I was expecting."
The air around them chilled, picking up darkness and shadows.
She ignored it, and drummed her fingers against his ribs. "What happened when you tried?"
"Corrupting things. Dangerously so."
Her eyebrows shot up. "Worth hearing about, I take it."
He closed his eyes briefly, and laid his fingers on top of hers to stop their drumming. "Not today."
"This is starting to sound like Tolkien's One Ring. Should I be worried about said corrupting things if I continue this way with you all?" She gave him her best pointed look. "Are there ring wraith issues?"
His smile was laced with a surprising amount of bitterness. "No. It's the other way you'll need to worry about. Become so pure you'll sacrifice yourself for our sake."
(Don't don't, never do that again, miiiiiiissss you so much, no no.) Another story there. So many stories. A heartbeat passed. "Well, clearly that's why you're here. Surely keeping me off the too straight and narrow falls under my MB's purview."
His lips quirked. "Yes, I suppose it does."
"Otherwise you'll have to give back that anti-villain handbook."
"Wouldn't want that. Also, you owe me a month of Sundays for the purity warning."
"I never agreed to that."
His shrug was completely unapologetic. "MB. Would you, though?"
She tilted her head. "Is this the number of Sundays in a typical month, or thirty-ish Sundays?"
Approval rippled behind his eyes. "Which do you want it to be? You already owe me three months for the glow information."
She smiled. "Depends on what I get to do with the previous Saturdays, I suppose."
"Daytimes are still for stories, but the nighttime is open."
"You still want my stories, even after all this?" She held up her hand again, looking at the glow.
"Particularly after all this."
"Why?"
His smile was liquid and fast. "I'll trade you a story for that answer, if you like."
Her eyebrows shot up. "Really? After all this, we're still negotiating, too?"
"Always. MB, remember?"
"In-su-ffer-a-ble."
"Especially for you."
She laughed softly into his shoulder, which smelled good enough to sink her teeth into. "You know, I think I might just love you. And at this point, I might as well say it."
"I know. And yes, you should. Often." His smile was utterly brilliant, dispelling all the lingering shadows.
She nipped him on the shoulder, hard enough to leave a mark. "And I repeat: Insufferable."
"And yours."
(Yesyesyesyesyes, loooove him, ours ours ours.) "And mine."
