As expected, Jareth flashed into existence; unexpectedly, he was less than two feet away from her, and accompanied by a pair of heavy wooden trunks.
Sarah stepped back nervously, then reminded herself that she was furious with him, that he was the one who should be worried about her, and stood her ground.
He raised an inquiring eyebrow. "Enjoyed your day?"
When he stood there as if unable to move until she answered him, she shrugged. "It passed." She glanced at the trunks, trying not to show her eagerness. "Is that clothes for me?"
"It is," he replied curtly, matching icy tone for icy tone. "There are more when I decide to allow you the freedom to move about the castle environs." He gestured toward one of the tapestries, the one showing a series of cottages and walled gardens. Sarah glanced at it, then stepped closer to get a better look. Every door in it stood open, but she had studied it earlier and could have sworn every door and gate had been closed tight. Jareth pulled the tapestry aside and showed her the wooden door behind it, one that had most definitely not been there earlier.
When he dropped the tapestry again, Sarah's eyes widened in surprise; now the gates and doors were firmly shut again. When she reached and looked behind it, there was nothing but a blank stone wall, same as before.
"So I don't get to leave until you decide to magic me out of here? Great," she muttered, moving around him, taking great care not to let so much as a single hair on her head touch him. He grinned at her, as if knowing exactly what she was doing, and worse; as if he knew exactly why she was doing it. Although she was hoping for an aura of regal disdain, she knew she was really projecting a frantic fear that touching him would once again awaken her senses and cause her to lose control like she had last night.
Last night, she reminded herself, firmly, but not this morning. She continued around Jareth until she reached the first trunk, her hand hovering over the elaborate brass key sticking out of the lock. "Do you have to magic these open for me as well?" she asked, making her voice as snide as she could.
Jareth shook his head. "No, they open in the usual manner. Sometimes things in the Goblin Realm are exactly what they seem to be."
Sarah responded with an indelicate snort. "Not very often." She dropped to her knees, careful to keep the sheet wrapped around her, and turned the key. The lid was heavy; when it was fully open it revealed, not a simple rectangle stuffed with clothes as Sarah had expected, but a series of drawers and shelves, some attached to the lid by chains, others resting on edges built into the trunk's body. She opened each one, examining the contents with a combination of excitement and dismay before turning to the second trunk.
Everything in them, down to the daintiest, laciest set of underclothes, was distinctly medieval in character; not a single modern item was to be had, from bra to shoes. There were four dresses carefully laid out in the bottom of the first trunk, with pieces of what looked and felt and even crackled like thick tissue paper laid between them; each one would require assistance in lacing up or buttoning, because each one fastened up the back. There were even petticoats, which she might consider wearing if she became desperately chilly…or even if she wasn't; she probably shouldn't make it any easier for Jareth to get into her pants, so to speak, than necessary.
The second trunk held assorted pairs of matching slippers and ankle-length boots, stockings and old-fashioned garters to hold them up, but nothing so modern as panty-hose, darn it all.
She stood up, taking the items she'd chosen in her arms. "Thank you," she said, forcing herself to say the words. After all, he could have simply left her naked; royal consort to the Goblin King didn't appear to be a title that had any duties attached to it other than the ones he'd already forced her into performing.
He spoke not a word, simply gave an ironic bow and watched as she marched off to the bathing chamber.
When she returned he was lounging on the armchair she'd pulled closer to the fire, an elegantly clad leg thrown over one arm, chin on fist, gazing into the flames. On the tufted bench next to him sat the ubiquitous silver tray, cover to one side and an elaborate meal in view: some kind of roast, gravy, potatoes and vegetables, and two glasses of what she assumed to be wine.
Sarah felt her mouth watering at the sight, but appetite was stifled under indignation as she decided it was just like him to appropriate the chair she'd selected as her own. A second chair had been set on the opposite side of the bench, balancing the arrangement out, and none of the chairs in this room were uncomfortable, but still. It was the principle of the thing.
Jareth looked up as she stopped in front of him, holding the dress together in the back with one hand. She'd buttoned the deep blue, low-necked gown it as far as she could, but that wasn't enough to keep it from sliding down her arms and revealing a lot more of herself than she wanted him to see, even with the delicate silk chemise beneath it. Steeling herself, she half-turned her back on him, burning at how submissive a gesture that seemed under the circumstances. "Would you mind?" she asked, keeping her voice as cold as she could.
He rose gracefully to his feet and was at her side in a second, nimble fingers working the buttons…in the wrong direction. In a flash he had undone everything she had just done, grasping the fabric firmly when she tried to move away, pulling her back against him.
Damn, did he always have a hard-on, or was it just when she was around? Sarah squirmed, determined to free herself, the stopped as she heard his appreciative "mmmmm". That was certainly not the effect she'd been aiming for. He buried his face in the nape of her neck, planting hot kisses there that raised goose bumps on her flesh. His hands tugged at the dress; stubbornly, she held it in place, arms crossed over her chest. Surely he wouldn't want to ruin something he'd just given her…
Ah, well, another theory down the drain. She heard a tearing sound, and his hands dropped their hold on the newly-rent fabric of the chemise, only to move to encircle her waist beneath both layers of fabric.
Jareth's lips had trailed from her neck to between her shoulder blades in spite of her efforts to dislodge him, and his hands were moving as well, one up and one down against the flesh of her abdomen. She grabbed at his fingers, desperately trying to keep them from reaching their intended targets, but only marginally succeeded in slowing him down. The top of the gown sagged, her breasts barely covered by what remained of the chemise, and she squirmed once again, realizing two things: doing so only made him redouble his efforts, and long, flowing skirts must have been designed to keep a woman from kicking a man in his private parts. There was no other possible explanation; it certainly hampered her own efforts in that direction, never mind that she was facing the wrong way to do much in the way of damage even if her legs were free.
"Jareth," she said breathlessly, once again standing still in hopes of averting the obvious, "this isn't going to work."
"Isn't it?" he murmured, his lips once again against the nape of her neck, nibbling this time, delicate nips that raised more goose bumps as his fingers finally arrived at their various destinations. One flick against her nipple and it hardened obediently. "It seems to be working quite splendidly." The other hand delved beneath the waistband of her knee-length under drawers. There was nothing between his fingers and her most private parts, and she kept her legs tightly together in a desperate attempt to block further access.
The access he had, however, was proving quite distracting. "Jareth, please, don't do this," she groaned, using both hands to try and pry his fingers away, leaving his other hand free to wander about her breasts, first one and then the other, once again raising her personal temperature a notch or two above feverish. Why, why couldn't her body cooperate with her brain? She hated him, hated what he'd done to her, how he'd forced her into agreeing with his demands, just as she hated those demands…didn't she? It was increasingly hard to tell.
"Pheromones!" she managed to gasp out, craning her neck as best she could to glare into his eyes. "Or some kind of magic, is that it?"
He stopped kissing her neck long enough to regard her with an air of bemusement. When he finally realized what she was talking about, he laughed aloud, delighted. "Having an effect on you in spite of your protests to the contrary, am I? Well, I'm not sorry to say that no, it's nothing magical, no spells or enchantments, and as for pheromones, whatever those are, I can assure you I'm not using them on you." The hand probing beneath her under drawers moved in a slow, languorous pattern, not quite touching the spot she knew he was aiming for.
"You wouldn't necessarily know," Sarah rebutted breathlessly, trying not to squirm. Damn, he certainly knew what he was doing. "It's kind of a chemical reaction, you know, that attracts one person to another."
He met her eyes, still wearing a half-smile, fingers never stopping in their movement even as her hands never stopped trying to remove his arms from around her body. "Once again, my dear Sarah, I can assure you I am using no such thing. You can't blame your reaction to me on some invisible essence, although I am certainly intrigued by the thought."
"Well, it's still rape," she said stubbornly. "I'm still under duress, and after this morning, I don't intend to just give in and let you use me."
"Going to make me work for it, are you?" he asked, a teasing note creeping into his voice.
Sarah shivered at the feel of his breath so close to her ear, then chastised herself for reacting as much as she was. Why oh why couldn't she just hold on to the fact that he'd literally forced himself on her at the beginning of the day, and was perfectly willing to do so again now? "Damn right," she snapped.
She felt him laughing again, silently this time, his forehead resting against her shoulder, his fingers finally still. But it was at best a momentary delay, and her body remained quivering and alert. But not, as she wanted to tell herself, in anger; oh no, she'd begun to regard her physical self as so completely divorced from her mental self as to belong to another person entirely. A person who wanted this, who wanted his fingers to begin their wandering, who wanted him to continue rubbing up against her, who wanted the sensation of warmth that was igniting her every cell, every pore, head to toe and every square inch of her in between.
With an almighty effort she managed to wrench herself free of his grasp, but he merely used the opportunity to start removing his clothing; first the gloves, then the jacket and waistcoat, finally the boots, but stopping short at that point, retaking his seat and picking up a plate of food as if that had been his intent all along.
Sarah fumbled her dress back up, yanking the sleeves over her shoulders and fuming; how dare he get her so riled up and then just…stop?!
She felt her face flame as she realized what she'd been thinking. She wanted him to stop, to leave her be. Didn't she? Not sure what to think, she took the chair opposite his, unaware of what a vision she was, her lips kiss-swollen, hair flowing over her bare shoulders, skin almost glowing in the warm firelight…It took all his considerable strength of will for Jareth not to pull her into his lap and take her right then and there. But no, not yet. She'd been weakening and he probably shouldn't have given her the opportunity to regroup, but he liked keeping her off balance.
He watched through his eyelashes as she ate, enjoying the sight as she chewed and swallowed, even deigning to sip the wine he'd provided. It was roughly three times as strong as the human kind, but he wasn't about to warn her about it, not unless she asked. It was all part of the game; he wanted to see her at least mildly intoxicated, to observe how she acted when under alcohol's fickle influence.
Completely unaware of these facts, Sarah continued to eat and sip the wine, until suddenly her plate was empty and the glass as well. She set both down on the edge of the bench with a decided wobble to her movements, then sat back in her chair and glared at Jareth accusingly. "That wasn't just wine!"
"Of course it was," he replied, once again attempting an innocent expression that wouldn't have fooled a blind man. "Goblin wine. You seemed to enjoy it."
Sarah stood up, weaving unsteadily on her feet. "Izzat the plan, get me drunk enough to let you finish under-undressing me?" A discreet hiccup interrupted her words, and she clapped her hands over her mouth, eyes wide with dismay.
Jareth also rose to his feet. "Yes, actually, that was the plan exactly." She blinked and he was standing in front of her, so close that she could feel her eyes crossing as she tried to focus on his face. She'd never in her short drinking life had any liquor affect her this strongly or this rapidly, and she made a mental note never to try Goblin Wine again.
At least, she intended it to be mental; Jareth's grin told her she must have inadvertently said the words aloud. "Bastard," she mumbled as he stepped even closer and bent his head to hers to capture a kiss.
She shoved at him, but succeeded only in putting herself off-balance. Jareth was there to catch her, one arm encircling her waist, the other caressing her dress back off her shoulders. His lips descended to her throat, and a moan of desire escaped Sarah's lips before she could stop it.
That was all the encouragement Jareth needed. He swept her into his arms and carried her over to the bed. "Returning to the scene of the crime?" Sarah muttered, but weakly; Jareth's continued caresses were even more distracting now that the wine had apparently heightened every sense she had.
"Trying to replace a bad memory with one less painful," Jareth countered as he busied himself with removing her dress and the ruined chemise. Sarah tried to offer at least a token amount of resistance, but her body refused to cooperate; her fingers kept trying to pull him closer instead of push him away, and her legs were already half-spread in anticipation of his presence between them.
Stop that, she ordered her body irritably, but it continued to do exactly as it pleased, which in this case was also exactly as Jareth pleased. Her hips willingly lifted as he slid the dress and chemise and under drawers off, and her mouth opened beneath his as he returned to claim another kiss. Her hands were on his shoulders as he embraced her, and they continued to act as if under his control rather than hers by caressing him, encouraging him to lower his lips once again to her throat and trail a series of moist kisses down to her breasts.
She sucked in her breath as he gave each breast equal attention, as his fingers returned to probing the moist area between her legs, which had very nearly gone into the splits in their mindless attempts to draw him closer. "Sarah, Goblin Wine agrees with you," he murmured against her stomach; he'd been slowly but steadily making his way down her body, encouraged by her hands as they now tangled in his hair, by the moans that continued to issue from her throat and the tangible proof of her willingness, nay, her eagerness to have him bed her.
"It's jus' like drugging me," she slurred; some part of her was still resisting, but it was a very minor part. "Y'know I wouldn't let you do this if you hadn't."
Jareth paused in his ministrations, giving her words some thought before dismissing them. "Goblin Wine, like human wine, only lowers inhibitions, my dear Sarah. Part of you may despise me, but a greater part of you wants me. I choose to respond to that part of you." With those words he reached the apex of her legs and began to use his tongue for a very different activity than speaking.
Sarah writhed beneath him as he found The Spot, the one she'd never been able to work on her own the few times she'd tried, laving it with his tongue, grazing it with his teeth while his fingers worked their way deeper and deeper inside her folds.
Nor was he met with resistance of any kind as Sarah's hips bucked beneath him, as she gasped and moaned and finally tangled her fingers in his unruly blonde locks, pressing him closer in spite of her stated desire to want nothing to do with him. There was no room for any thoughts at all as she lost herself in the sensation of his exquisite tongue between her legs, his fingers stroking her female center, the molten lava that was building and spreading until she screamed his name as she climaxed.
She felt him move away; before she could do more than gasp at the sudden distance between them he was upon her, the full length of him pressed against her. She felt something probing at the still-quivering flesh between her legs. Within seconds he plunged into her and she cried out again, fingers digging into his shoulders, her legs wrapping themselves around his waist and her body moving to the same urgent rhythm that had overcome him.
She came to a second climax, more intense than the one that preceded it, a series of choked cries issuing from her throat as she clutched Jareth even closer. She felt his own release follow not long after, and it set off yet another paroxysm of pleasure throughout her body.
He was right about the wine, damn him; she realized she was nowhere near drunk enough to be able to claim he'd taken advantage of her. Of course, that was if she believed him when he said it was just strong liquor and nothing else; suppose he'd been lying?
But why should he? another part of her argued back. The sensible, logical part that could be such a pain at times like this, when all she wanted to do was wallow in self-pity. The truth was he had no need to drug her to make her do what he wanted, and no need to lie about if he did. No matter what, she'd given her word, and under the terms of their agreement, her body was basically his to do with as he pleased for another year.
Not that she'd give him the satisfaction of protesting, which was obviously what he expected her to do. No, she'd keep her thoughts to herself, deny him the pleasure of reminding her that she'd seemed to welcome his caresses even before the wine.
While she was busy within her own mind, Jareth had removed himself from the bed, returning after a few minutes with another goblet of wine. He sat on the edge of the bed to drink it, gazing down at her. After a minute Sarah could no longer stand it; she sat up and yanked the sheets up to her shoulders. "I have to go to the bathroom," she said with as much dignity as she could muster. "You could at least give me a robe or pass me my underwear or something."
He reached down by his feet and pulled up the green robe he'd been wearing earlier, or perhaps its twin since this seemed to fit her as perfectly as it had fit him, no extra material at wrists or ankles to pull out of the way as she walked. He remained silent as she headed for the appropriate tapestry, pushing it aside and disappearing from view.
A/N: I just can't keep Jareth a complete bastard, no matter how hard I try...he's just too damn sexy! Sorry it took so long for this chapter but I wasn't sure how I wanted to end this scene. I'm working on the next few chapters, never fear!
