Sarah was in unfamiliar territory. She looked around, and from what she could see, she was on the balcony of what appeared to be a castle, though she hadn't seen it before. Perhaps she was the dream-weaver this time; she hadn't seen all parts of Jareth's castle - maybe her subconscious was filling in the bits she didn't know with images she'd seen in books or movies.

She looked down at herself, curious. Her gown was slinky and silver; she reached down to the dress to pull back the bottom of the gown - her heels were sky-high. Not something she'd pick out for herself, but not out of the realm of possibility for Jareth, she supposed. She shrugged and turned, looking at the glass door, catching her reflection.

Her hair was pinned up high, with cascading curls falling to her shoulders, her face covered in a mask. The dress hugged every single curve of her body, almost obscenely - the neck was cut very low, and from what she could feel, there was no back. She didn't so much look like herself, but like a version of her that someone would put together after only having seen her a couple of times. Something wasn't right, and her stomach was in knots.

Jareth, when creating dreamscapes for her, had dressed her. Often. But she was always unrestricted and free to move. She was usually in flats. Her hair was always down. When she was dressed, anyway.

This was different.

She pushed open the glass door and entered a hall. There was music playing, but she was the only one there. Her flight or fight instinct was screaming for flight.

"There you are," a voice said from behind her. It was unfamiliar; new. She didn't like it. Arms slipped around her waist, intimate and smothering. "You must stop running off," it said, breath tickling her neck; she shivered.

Everything was wrong. Whomever it was behind her was too much of too many things. Too short, too wide, his voice was too high, his hands were too exposed. Sarah spun to look up into the face of another mask, but she could tell it wasn't Jareth. The dark hair was cropped short, his eyes were black. There was dark stubble around his jaw and he smelled all wrong.

"Who are you," Sarah whispered as they began to dance.

"You know who I am," he said, smiling. "We've done this before." His brow furrowed under the mask. "Or, we will. Sometimes I get confused," he said smiling.

From what she could see, he could almost be good looking. His smile was roguish, and if it weren't for the black eyes, he could almost be handsome - if Sarah wasn't currently into men taller and blonder than him.

"We have?" she asked confused.

"Of course we have, Sarah. Don't you remember?"

"No," she said, shaking her head. She felt lightheaded. "I don't remember any of this."

"You will one day," he said, spinning her out and back into his arms. Her back was pressed to his chest and he took the opportunity to place a kiss to her neck before spinning her out once again. He caught her back in his arms and they continued to dance.

"What's your name?" she asked him, trying to work out when she'd done this before.

"You know my name," he said, smiling.

"I do?"

"Of course you do, my love."

"I don't remember it."

"You wound me," he said laughing. It was like bells ringing. Loud, annoying bells. Like a car alarm going off at two in the morning.

"I'd like to leave now," she said, as she stopped moving. "I shouldn't be here. I'm supposed to be somewhere else."

"You can't leave. Not ever. There's nowhere else you're supposed to be except here with me. I love you. This is where you belong. You really don't remember?" His voice had taken a much darker tone than it had just moment before. Sarah shivered again.

"I… you don't know me. You don't love me."

"Neither does he," he said. It wasn't said angrily, but very matter-of-factly. As if he had first hand knowledge of this information.

"Neither does who?" Sarah asked, confused. It was like there were two separate sets of memories in her head. There was someone else she was supposed to be dancing with. His hair was different. Lighter. His eyes were strange, but she couldn't remember his name; it was right on the tip of her tongue, but she couldn't form her mouth around it.

"Exactly," he said, smiling. He could read the confusion on her face as if she were narrating it for him. "Let's continue our dance, beautiful." He began to move them again; this time, they were much closer. There was no space between them and Sarah, confused as ever, relaxed into his arms.

"Try to remember my name, darling. You belong here. Try to remember that, too," he said, chin resting on the top of her head.

"Of course I belong here," she said, completely detached from herself.

"Of course you do, Sarah." He pulled back and looked down at her cupping her face in his hands. "Kiss me, my love," he said, and dipped his head down to touch his lips to hers.

Sarah didn't put up a bit of protest.

She sucked in a ragged breath and wrapped her arms around his neck, pulling him closer. Her hands found his hair and her fingers wove themselves into it at the base of his moaned and he growled, pulling her closer. She felt weak, like she was drowning, and suddenly she couldn't breathe. Her eyes snapped open to see him looking down at her, eyes glowing white, she screamed into his mouth, trying to pull his hair to detach him from her body, but he was too strong. She pushed at his chest, quickly losing strength and the will to fight anymore.

It was like that time she'd got dragged underwater on her family's white water rafting trip when she was 10. She couldn't find the surface, couldn't find air. Her eyes slipped closed and she silently wondered if she could die in her dreams.

"That's quite enough of that," a voice cut through her rapidly fading consciousness.

Sarah kept right on fighting, though her attacker stopped whatever he was doing and stilled. He grabbed Sarah by the hair and wrenched her around with him, his other hand twisting her arm behind her back as they turned to face her rescuer.

How, in a million years, could she have ever forgotten anything about him? Jareth stood in the doorway of the hall looking as menacing as she'd ever seen him; full Goblin King armor, eyes fixed on her kidnapper, murderous. His whole body was humming and vibrating with deadly intent; he looked absolutely lethal. Sarah had never seen anything more beautiful in her life.

"Let her go," Jareth said - it wasn't a request.

Her attacker laughed darkly behind her. "I don't think so, Jareth. She's mine."

"Not even a little bit. This is your last chance, Lorcan," he said.

Sarah stopped struggling, and stilled completely, her eyes wide, realizing, after hearing that name, that there was no point fighting anymore.

"How did you find me?" he asked, releasing Sarah's hair with a sick smile on his face. He reached up and pulled the mask from his face. It clattered to the floor and shattered.

"I didn't find you. I found her; I'll always find her," Jareth said stepping forward tipping his head towards Sarah. "Are you alright, Precious?"

She nodded. Lorcan twisted her arm higher up her back and retreated backwards to keep some distance with Sarah in tow. She cried out and Jareth got much closer very quickly. He blurred, really - Sarah couldn't follow his every movement. She'd never seen this side of him before, and part of her was grateful; he was terrifying. She couldn't even imagine the damage he could do in a state like this.

"Let. Her. Go." Jareth said through gritted teeth.

"No, I don't think I will," Lorcan said smugly, reaching behind his back and pulling out a dagger, holding it to Sarah's neck.

"I'm going to kill you," Jareth promised silkily; Sarah believed him.

"You didn't before. I have no reason to believe you will this time," he said. He pushed the tip of the dagger into Sarah's neck and she could feel a small drop of blood slide down the side of her neck. Her dizziness intensified.

Jareth conjured a crystal, and Sarah wondered what the hell he was going to do with that. Glitter him to death? She was at least expecting a sword or something. She had a dagger in her neck, what the hell was that going to do?

"Last chance," Jareth said, finally.

Sarah, sensing something was about to happen, lifted her leg and dug the heel of her shoe down into Lorcan's foot. It was enough that he cried out and let her go enough for Sarah to duck as she caught the forward motion of Jareth throwing the crystal at her attacker.

Lorcan wasn't there anymore. The crystal slammed into the wall behind her loud enough that she covered her ears. When she turned to see what had made such a sound, she noticed the wall was missing, as if explosives had taken it down.

What was left of the wall was on fire.

As was the floor.

And the entire area around it.

Hysterically, she realized that any of his crystals she'd seen up until that point were literally child's play, and that he could have killed her easily at any point she had known him. It wasn't something she was likely to forget in the future.

She was in Jareth's arms faster than she could track, his gloved hands running over her head, down her arms, turning her this way and that, looking for injuries.

"Are you ok?" he asked, his voice more panicked than she'd ever heard it before.

"I feel like I'm going to pass out," she whispered. "My neck…"

Jareth tilted her head away from him, eyeing up the cut on Sarah's neck.

"Damn it," he said, his finger inspecting the wound. "Sarah, I need you to wake up."

"How?" she asked weakly.

"I don't care how, Sarah - wake up NOW."

"I can't," she said, whimpering. "It hurts."

"I know, Precious," he said sadly, letting go of her neck and forcing her to look up at him. "This isn't the way I wanted this to happen," he said, before ducking his head and touching his lips to hers.

It was like breaking the surface of a deep body of water, and Sarah tried to suck in as much air as she could. It felt like she hadn't breathed in years.

All she got was a mouthful of Jareth.

He was kissing her, her hands pinned down on her chest with one of his hands, the other gripping her hip forcefully. Sarah, completely aware of what was happening, returned the kiss with more force than was strictly necessary. Her blood boiled under her skin and she tried to free her hands; Jareth gripped them harder. His hand at her hip slipped around her waist and pulled her closer, flush against the length of his body; Sarah moaned her approval into his mouth. He nipped her lower lip and swept his tongue inside her mouth, tasting her. The growl that escaped his throat was primal, and would have scared her if it had come from anyone else.

And it was he who pulled away.

"If you ever get the urge again, I am the only being available for your kissing needs for the foreseeable future, Precious. Understand?" It was a demand, not an invitation, and one that left no room for interpretation.

"Yes," she said breathlessly. His hand tightened its grip on her wrists.

"Yes, what?" he growled.

"Yes, sir," she answered. Where had that come from, she wondered, brow furrowed.

"Good girl," he purred. And then he let her go.

He rolled off of her, though his arm stayed possessively on her hip, pulling her on her side to face him.

"Jareth, I feel dizzy," she whispered, slurring her words. She felt drunk. The room was spinning and she was having trouble focusing her eyes.

"Good," he chuckled.

"No, Jareth - I feel dizzy like I did in the dre-" she was cut off by Jareth sitting up on the bed. All the lights in the room came on.

Then the pain started.

Sarah gasped loudly, and Jareth's hand was over her mouth in an instant.

"Precious, I know it hurts, and I swear to you I'm going to take the pain away, but I need you to be quiet. You simply cannot wake your family. Do you understand?" he whispered harshly. She nodded her head. She squeezed her eyes shut, and that smell was back. She whimpered, fisting her hands in the sheets at her sides.

"Jareth, please," she cried.

"Hush," he said, concentrating.

She could feel Jareth's hands drifting all over her body, and after a few minutes, the pain receded. That intoxicating smell permeated every one of her senses; she breathed in deeply. She opened her eyes and looked up at him, ready to thank him and maybe kiss him again. He, however, was looking down at her as if he were waiting for the other shoe to drop.

"Wait for it," he murmured to himself.

There was a brief pause and then Sarah felt warm all over, as if someone had lit her on fire. Her eyes glazed over, and he could feel her thighs rub together beneath him.

"There it is," he sighed.

"Jareth," she whispered.

"Yes, Precious?" he answered, almost annoyed, right before Sarah leaned up on her elbows and crashed her mouth against his. Her arms wrapped around his neck and her legs parted, her knees at his hips. He wrenched his mouth away from hers.

"Precious, stop," he said as Sarah's mouth nipped and kissed along his jaw.

"No," she growled, nails biting into his shoulders.

"You will regret this later," he said, his resolve dangerously close to breaking.

"No, I won't," she said breathlessly, her hands now brazenly exploring the plains of his chest and dipping lower. Quickly. She slid her fingertips below the waist of his pants and Jareth let out a frustrated groan.

"That's enough," he said through gritted teeth, again gripping her wrists and pinning them above her head. She bucked her hips upwards, grinding into him. "Sarah, stop it," he said again. "This is just a reaction to my magic. You have to control yourself."

"I don't care," she whispered. "Touch me."

"You don't really want me to do that. Not now," he said, slamming her hands back down as she attempted to lift them. Her legs wrapped around him; she locked them behind his back.

"I do," she said. "Touch me. Please touch me."

Jareth was still holding her down, making no move to grant her request when she remembered the name he'd demanded she call him not twenty minutes previous.

"Please, sir. Please touch me. I'm begging you," she said, silently praying to every god she could name that her tactic worked.

And while Sarah heard him growl, what that sound really was, was the last shard of self control Jareth had, shattering into a million pieces and scattering on the wind. He shut his eyes and took a deep breath, obviously battling with his better angels over what to do.

The angels didn't win.

His mouth was on hers in an instant, his free hand gripping her thigh and grinding down into her. She moaned. Loudly. His hand came down in a quick, sharp slap on her thigh. She absently noticed how warm and strong his bare hand was against her skin.

"Quiet," he said into her mouth. She bucked her hips into him again, but she didn't make a sound. She wasn't entirely sure how it happened, but her hands were still pinned above her head, although Jareth's hand wasn't holding them anymore. She looked at him confused through a cloud of haze.

"Magic," he murmured, answering her unspoken question. He reached behind his back and unlocked Sarah's legs. Her feet hit the mattress, but her knees stayed at his hips, unwilling to lose any ground she may have gained. He leaned over her, weight supported on his elbows and kissed her. It was slow; he teased at her lips until she opened her mouth for him, and he took his time exploring her, unrestricted, to his satisfaction. Sarah's tongue danced with his, and when Sarah started to move a little too quickly, or would buck her hips up into him, he'd pull away.

She pouted and Jareth nipped at her lip, his hands gripping her hips tightly to keep her pinned to the bed until he was ready to move. He could put her out of his misery, but to take her while she was in this state was unforgivable in his mind. He would not be later accused of using this as an excuse to ravish her body, regardless of how willing she was at the moment. His hand dipped lower, sliding her shorts and panties off in one swift motion. He could smell her arousal immediately and his head swam; his mouth watered.

"Do not make a sound, do you understand me, Sarah? I know you can scream the walls down, but I want to taste you, and you must keep quiet," he said, looking down at her.

She nodded, biting her lip as he slid down the bed, kissing his way across her stomach and lower. He could hear her panting and grinned as his dipped his head and ran his tongue up her center once. Sarah sucked in a breath and groaned as Jareth's hands locked around her thighs.

He repeated the motion again, this time lingering on her clit, flicking his tongue out against it before sucking it into his mouth and flicking his tongue across it several more times. Her hips bucked upwards and he shoved her back down again. He alternated between sucking and licking her, his tongue teasing at her opening, lapping at her folds before flicking his tongue against the bundle of nerves and sucking it into his mouth again. Sarah had broken his rule of her keeping quiet to pant his name several times, however, he was disinclined to punish her for it, as she wasn't being loud enough for the sound to escape the room, and there was nothing in the world he enjoyed more than hearing Sarah beg of his name with her beautiful mouth. He wouldn't have imagined it possible, but she tasted better in reality than she did in her dreams.

"Come for me, Sarah," he demanded, his mouth against her inner thigh before diving back to her core, where she did exactly as she was commanded. His hands were bruising as they gripped her and held her in place, her hips twitching wildly as he drew every last shudder and shockwave from her body, lapping at her wetness with a purr. He finished by running the tip of his tongue from her entrance up the entire length of her. Sarah's eyes opened in time to watch him swallow; she shivered.

With a flick of his hand, Sarah's invisible bonds were removed and she tiredly dropped her arms to her sides. Jareth stood from the bed and Sarah's eyes trailed down the length of his body to his very obvious erection. She licked her lips and Jareth caught the motion before reaching down to pick up her panties from the floor, chuckling.

"Soon Precious, I promise," he said a little cockier than he was when the night began. He lifted one foot and then the other, sliding her panties back on her body. "Lift up your hips," he said and she did as he slid them back in place.

Sarah had little more energy than necessary to keep her eyes open. Her head lolled on one side and watched as Jareth climbed back into bed and didn't put up a fight when he turned onto his side and dragged her back against him. He snapped his fingers and they were once again in darkness.

"Go to sleep, Sarah," he said for the second time that night.

"Ok," she said tiredly. She nestled down into his arm, her hand resting on top of his around her waist.

"No more dreaming tonight."

"Ok," she yawned. "Good night, Jareth. Thank you," she said quietly.

"My pleasure," he laughed softly.

The next sounds Sarah heard were the birds chirping outside her bedroom window, letting her know it was morning.

I know, I know. I've made you wait forever. Here's a little something to tide you over. Don't forget to R&R. Thanks! :-)