A/N: Okay guys, so this is a rating changer. It's not particularly graphic, as I was trying to be tasteful (not really sure I succeeded) and not cross the line into M, but a friend read it and said I had, so I'm listening to her advice and changing the rating. It's also the SEQUEL to the Power of Dreams, so basically you need to read that first. It's chapter seven if you haven't read it. Anyways, enjoy; and as always, R&R!
The Power of Dreams II
For the second time, the room jolts to life. Again, the candles flicker as the fire's shadow begins to move on the wall; as the sheet – frozen in mid-air from their last activities – flutters to the ground. They'd accomplished complete undress last time: her bra hangs on a canopy post, his gloves lie discarded, smoldering, in the fire.
And this time they're frustrated. Being unable to finish what was very thoroughly begun last time has irritated them to no end since last they met here.
It begins with the slender, dark haired girl: they stand at a face-off until she leaps. Cat-like, she lands on top of him, pinning him to the bed with her weight. Of course, he is only too eager to show her who she's dealing with – in seconds, he's on top, his blond hair just brushing her shoulders as he straddles her on the black silk under-sheet. Her hair blends with it: only her creamy skin would be visible to one farther away then he is.
"Fear me," he states, staring down at her.
"In your dreams," she replies.
He lowers his torso to hers, whispering "We're already there," as he does so. He puts his full weight on her, pressing her down into the mattress as his hands begin to roam, the bare skin sending sparks up her spine as they go from shoulder to breast to thigh to there.
"Love me," he says, nipping her ear gently.
She doesn't answer but to pull him closer, claiming his mouth with hers. He's not completely satisfied, but moves to the next point on his agenda anyways.
"Do as I say," he breathes once his lips leave hers.
She says nothing for a moment, considering her options as she lies gasping underneath him. Finally, she grins and answers "Make me."
Interestingly enough, he grins too. "With pleasure," he replies, and reaches down to her hips, pulling them forward. She can feel his hardness now, pressing insistently against her core.
His hands caress her body fervently, making her moan as she moves against him. He leaves hot, open-mouthed kisses in a trail that leads slowly to her mouth, curling around her body. Finally, just as his lips are about to meet hers, he pleads once more, almost begging for her to give him complete control.
"Love me Sarah," He says in a velvety, persuasive voice, at once soft as harsh, together yet ragged.
By now, she is little more than a puddle beneath him; her limbs having been reduced to jelly by his clever fingers. And thus, she is completely willing to give to anything so long as he continues doing what he's doing. Her body aches for his touch.
"Yes," she gasps, and their mouths meet at last, sealing them together for all eternity.
This time, the candles don't flicker. The clock doesn't turn, and time doesn't speed. They move together fervently, their bodies fitting together as though they were meant for each other. And finally – as the ornate clock in the room's corner begins to toll out the thirteenth hour – they come together. Their joining is explosive, catapulting them through all the stars in the sky, past the moon and sun and finally, past the point of no return. They both scream as they hit the mark, the shock and permanence of their journey settling into their bones. There will never be another for either of them. No one else will ever do, no one else will ever measure up. They are tied together irrevocably now.
With a certainty he's never felt before, he knows now that she will have him. He will be her King, and when he wakes from this, his prophetic dream, he will find her, wherever she is, and take her back.
She knows now who it is she's been waiting for since birth. She also knows that this is no delusion of hers. The stunning clarity she sees him with, the angular plains of his face alternatively lit and shadowed where the flame light touches it – she could never imagine it. She doesn't know what he's done, and she doesn't care. Sleep is making her languid, she's forgotten what there is that is bad about this. Hazily, she curls into Jareth's chest, sighing like a contented kitten.
The pair on the bed lie together for a long time, cuddling and whispering to each other softly until they drift gently into sleep. And then they fade from sight.
The clock stops once more, and the candle flames are frozen. In the space between one second and another, the bed re-makes itself. The discarded clothes burst out of sight, scattering glitter across the floor as they disappear. When the two come again – together – the room will give them a new dream.
Jareth wakes slowly, conscious only of a warm something tangled around him, his hands fisted in something soft and silky.
Rope? He thinks, bewildered and off track this early in the morning. His body feels heavy and slow, sated by last night's incredible dream.
If only it was real…he thinks regretfully, and inhales, contemplating facing the day without Sarah. That summery smell is back again, enveloping him with its dizzying aroma.
Sarah, he thinks, and imagines her with him, as she was in his dreams.
The warm thing beneath him shifts, and he recognizes it for what it truly is. What in the Underground is a woman doing in my bed? he thinks. He's refused to see any woman since her. He inhales slowly, pinching the bridge of his nose with a graceful hand.
He's just about to rise and get rid of her, when the body wrapped around him burrows deeper into his chest, moaning his name.
For a brief second, his heart stops. Eyes still closed, he inhales again. It couldn't be Sarah. Rationally, logically, this makes no sense. It's just someone who sounds like her, his rational brain supplies.
Smells like her, feels like her, incites in you the urge to lick every inch of her body like her…his wildest dreams add unhelpfully.
He opens his eyes slowly, not sure what he wants. If it's her and she leaves again…he won't be able to take it again. On the other hand, if it's not her, then he's hoping for nothing and he has a lot of explaining to do.
The vision in front of him is all dark hair and creamy skin, of long, lithe limbs wrapped around his body. Maybe, maybe she just looks like Sarah, he thinks, torn. She shifts again beneath him, rolling over and reminding him of the exact way their bodies mold together. He can see her face now, large green eyes closed in sleep, relaxed and serene. There is no longer even a shadow of a doubt that it is not her.
His hands, of their own accord, run slowly along her body, taking in the soft suppleness of her skin, the beautiful roundness of her breasts, finally coming to a stop on the gentle plains of her smooth back, stroking the skin there.
Sarah is in my room. Sarah is in my bed. Sarah is wrapped around me, Sarah…His brain repeats a track loop. Sarah, Sarah, SARAH!
And then suddenly, blindingly, he understands. Their dreams – incredibly powerful apart, absolutely invincible together – have done this. Unconsciously, their dreams have brought them together again, the only way they know how.
But that would mean… It's impossible. But the evidence is staring him in the face, utterly irrefutable. Sarah wants me. Sarah loves me. He feels euphoric.
And Sarah…Sarah has bound herself to me. Irrevocably. Irreversibly. She is mine as the world falls, mine when eternity calls, mine even after we both turn to dust. And I am hers. Forever.
He could dance and he could sing and he can and will, but not now. He will not wake his sleeping beauty. He lies back and closes his eyes, content to stay in her arms forever.
Sarah wakes quickly; bolting up right in a bed that's not hers, breaking free of a body that seems to be doing it's best to surround her. Looking around, she sees black sheets strewn about the floor and sunlight flooding in from an open balcony framed by black velvet hangings. The crystals that lie about the room refract the sunlight, sending beams of light arcing sporadically across the room. The small clouds of glitter surrounding them glimmer softly. Candles litter the room, burnt out presumably by the faint wind that's coming off the Labyrinth. There are about twenty seconds that she blinks dazedly at the light, before her attention returns to the body beside her.
She takes in the pale hair strewn messily about the pillows and mixing with her own, the long, lithe limbs wrapped around her.
It wasn't a dream…oh Gods, I wasn't dreaming. It was real, and he and I actually…She's panicking now, realizing the full repercussions of her action last night. Then: what did he do? How did he…this is all his fault. Human nature kicks in, searching for a place to lay the blame. Speaking of laying…she looks down.
By this point, Jareth is fully awake, lying on his back, propped up by his shoulders. He's smiling a smile that, for once, is not sarcastic or mocking, but seems to be genuinely happy.
"Precious thing," He purrs, going from happy to seductive in three seconds flat, "Were your dreams as sweet as mine?"
She shivers, remembering their dream. The faint glow of his naked flesh in the candlelight will stay with her for the rest of her life. She can still feel his hands on her body, ghosting across her thighs and into her most secret place. And then, mentally, she shakes them off. "What have you done?" she levels at him, sending him a fierce glare.
"Why, nothing, precious thing," he demurs innocently. "In fact, if anyone has done anything, it was you. I have simply been as always." This last is accompanied by a hip thrust that leaves her in no doubt as to what she has done.
"What are you talking about," she accuses, ignoring the insistent tattoo of IwanttorollontopofhimanddohimrightnowandhedoestooandIcanfeelit beating relentlessly in her head.
"Simply your dreams, precious." He places a tender kiss at the base of her neck, just where her shoulder and neck joins. She shivers slightly, but otherwise refuses to react, and so he continues talking. "It would seem that they brought us together last night. And the night before that. For you see, while I have no power over you, your subconscious does. And that simply begs one question, O precious thing: Why did your subconscious bring you to me?" The question is brushed across the rim of her ear like velvet, rolling seductively off his tongue and into her ear. He licks the shell of her ear, nipping gently for good measure.
Sarah is drowning in sensation. His voice, those lips, are driving her to distraction. Then, what he's just said registers with her. "Well that's exactly it Jareth!" She says, attempting to distance herself from him, attempting to regain some measure of control. "My subconscious wouldn't have brought me to you!"
He's not having any of the distancing thing, and his arms come up to encircle her, pulling her closer than before. "Sarah, Sarah, Sarah," He purrs into her hair, his hot breath pulsing across the still wet bite from earlier. "I think you're lying. You want to know what I think?" And once more he nips her ear, and then lingers there, softly kissing his way from the back of her ear to the nape of her neck. When he's finished, he says, not moving "I think you want me Sarah. In fact, I know you do. And I also know that when I press you down into my bed and proceed to lick every inch of your body, you're going to want me even more."
She's trembling now, hopelessly aroused. She might as well be made of jelly, she can't move. She doesn't even want to move. He's right. "And of course, I'm going to," he adds. "We are going to relive last night several times over, precious thing. We're going to do everything I've ever tried, and a few things I've only read about. I have an extensive library, Sarah, and plenty of time on my hands. What say you to this, precious thing?"
The hands are back on her flesh, goose bumps trailing wherever they go. They move slowly, leisurely, along her collarbone, across her shoulders, and down her back, finally caressing the curve of her bottom.
Their breaths have slowed to a crawl now as, heavy-lidded, their eyes meet. The intensity of his eyes thrills her. They are endless, and readily she falls into them, closing the distance between them with her mouth. She feels the kiss all the way down to her toes. Twisted around him as she is, she can feel his reaction; can glory in the fact that he wants her just as much as she wants him.
"Yes," she breathes when they break for air.
"Oh precious," he coos, his voice deep and husky "You're mine. Forever." If she hadn't understood before what she'd done, his words make it clear. She bound herself to him, before the universe itself, and then consummated that bonding with him for all to see. From that moment on, she had lost the ability to stray from him, and he from her. She is his Queen in truth now, though the post has been held for her since Jareth first ever laid eyes on her. There is no taking back what they have done, not anymore. 'You have no power over me,' won't work this time. And she is completely okay with this.
"Yes!" she says, her chest heaving. "Yes Jareth, forever!" She's completely frantic now. His hands delve into the junction of her thighs, but she needs him. Now.
Together, they spend hours loving. They learn every curve and inlet of each others' bodies, and this time, it's even better than in their dreams.
Because it's not one.