Disclaimer: I don't own them. I make no profit from this. Henson and co. would never let me do all the pervy things I want.

Warnings: …for peach pie, peach cobbler, peach tarts, peach sorbet, peach juice, peach jam, peach Jell-O, peach preserves, peach candies, peach nectar, peach ice cream, peach wine, peach cocktail, peach popsicles, peach tea…

… In other words, much naughtiness abounds. You have been forewarned. This has been rated M since the beginning, mes amis - time to earn it.

Part XXXVI

I follow the signs marked back to the beginning
No more compromise

Into the fire
I'm reunited

Into the Fire, Sarah McLachlan

Surrender…
Every word, every thought, every sound.
Surrender…
Every touch, every smile, every frown.
Surrender…
All the pain we've endured until now.
Surrender…
All the hope that I lost you have found.
Surrender…
Yourself to me

Surrender, Billy Talent

"Jareth," spoke a feminine voice.

Jareth turned, expression angry, but then his eyes softened and his shoulders sagged.

"You know why I'm here."

Jareth nodded. "I suspected."

"And you know what I will have to do." The tone was apologetic. "Are you disappointed?"

"Her actions betray her, but," Jareth paused, "it has cost me in the end."

"Such a pity," the Voice agreed. "However, all is not lost. Your failure is also hers."

Jareth made a non-committal sound. "Her will is… formidable."

"And that is why you are planning to let her go."

Jareth shot the robed figure a sharp look. "I hadn't decided."

"Hadn't you? I know you better than you give me credit."

"I can see no other way. My hands are tied."

"And so you plan to untie the knot." The Voice studied his face. "And then let her tie it back again?"

"Mm." Jareth's lips thinned. "It could fail."

"I hazard it won't. And neither do you or you would never consider it," replied the Voice smoothly. "You are a Goblin King. I imagine you won't let failure stop you. Poor girl."

"She is stubborn-"

"And so are you," the robed figure countered. "But she loves you willingly. Else you would have won. Which is more important?"

Jareth knew, but his face darkened. "She won't admit it. She fights even now."

"She will. Time is short. Three days have ended." The robed figure stepped back, adjusting her hood so that her face was once more obscured. Nothing more than a voice. "You may have lost but you are still a Goblin King. We all have our parts to play."

Jareth sighed, "Ever her villain."

He inclined his head and vanished, reappearing moments later in the orchard. The sun was very low in the sky. He leaned against the tree and closed his eyes to wait.

And prepared himself to let her go.

"She's coming back!" shrieked a voice.

"Who's coming back?" asked another. His helmet had bits of flooring stuck to the horns.

"THE girl!" snapped the first.

"THE Girl?" echoed the rest.

"As in the girl who ate the peach and kissed the king and broke his-"

"Argh! Not this again!"

But it was already too late.

"I knew she couldn't stay away!" a splintery goblin opined smugly. He began madly polishing a twisted lump of metal with a rather revolting mixture of spittle and earwax. A passing goblin's beard was unwillingly employed as a rag.

Goblin faces everywhere fractured into toothy grins and general pandemonium ensued. The chickens clamoured for cover.

But their jubilation fell silent at the distinctive sound of crystal smashing.

Sarah was trying very hard to be brave.

The entrance to the tomb smelled of loam and decay – made worse by the recent rain. With no source of light, she crawled blindly. The ground beneath her hands was moist and cool, and likely home to things best not considered. The damp seeped through the fabric of her gown, staining her knees. 'So much for the wrapping,' she thought wryly.

The last time she'd entered the mound she'd been fleeing a goblin horde; running away from him. The parallel was not lost on her and the niggling sense of 'joke's on you' was hard to ignore.

When the narrow passageway opened into the domed centre, Sarah caught the first tendrils of it – the distinctive scent of magic underlying all the rot. Magic and fire. Before it terrified. Now it thrilled.

And perhaps still terrified a little.

Then she'd known what villain she'd been running from; now she wasn't sure what villain she was running to. Or if he even was anymore.

But there was no time to second guess her decision because almost immediately her skin began burning. It was slight at first, the sensation of heat creeping across her body, but it built and spread and multiplied 'til she was aflame. It lingered on the threshold of pain. Sarah rolled onto her back in discomfort - laid out like a sacrificial offering in the dark. But it ended abruptly when then the ground vanished beneath her. It was not quite a fall – she'd had more than enough of those to be something of a connoisseur – rather more like being swept away. The smell of fire gave way to the smell of sea, and for a moment Sarah swore she could feel water flow beneath her.

And then it was over.

Though it wasn't the harrowing descent off a cliff's edge, the brief journey was nonetheless rattling; all the more so because she'd welcomed it willingly.

When Sarah opened her eyes, almost reluctantly, it was to mottled darkness. Pinpoints of golden light swirled down from above in broken patterns. She did not need to see to know where she was; she could feel it. Every nerve in her body drew taut. Fear gave way to anticipation. Strangely, it felt like coming home.

Until the roof collapsed on her.

The Underground may have been on an entirely different plane, but the taste of dirt was evidently universal. It could have been worse, Sarah reasoned, she could have had to solve the Labyrinth all over again. When the dust settled, she pulled herself free of the debris, shook her hair out and then looked up.

"Son of a -!"

She was on an irritatingly familiar hill… beyond the castle, beyond the Goblin City and most definitely beyond the Labyrinth. 'Joke's on you' indeed.

A part of her, breath bated, expected a shadowy figure to appear; to tempt and to beguile. The expectation of that reunion sent a frisson of anticipation through her.

But there was no baby to be bargained over this time, no challenge issued, and in the end he did not come. The inclination to call upon him was great, but she would not give him that satisfaction. She'd bent far enough. And the sense of being ignored did not settle well. An insidious voice whispered that he might not even answer.

By the time Sarah reached the entrance to the outer wall, not even the faeries dared bite her. In fact, no one met her at all. The absence was telling, and her initial ire turned to doubt. From there it was only a small step to fear. She hadn't been sure of the reception she'd receive, but she'd expected something at least. This had all the sting of a slap in the face. The great doors opened easily enough, however, and she wasted no time in feeling along the uneven stone walls until her hand dipped within. She had no illusions that she could retrace her steps, though the path was etched so vividly in her memory. Or that the same rules would even apply. After a moment's indecision she turned right.

Sarah stepped out into a canopied forest. She balked at the drastic change until she recognized that she'd once eaten a drugged peach somewhere within its confines. The thrill of expectation returned, and not a small measure of relief. Rather sourly, she considered that it would have been a much shorter journey if she had just ignored the worm's advice first time around. But the notion followed that it might have had a different ending when all facts were considered. Endings are worth nothing without the journey. That spin revitalized her resolve.

She had not gone far before she came across a weathered sign pointing down a winding path. The sign, in faded lettering, read 'This way to Eternal Joy and Plenty'. Recognizing the direction, Sarah snorted. Someone had a twisted sense of humour. She wondered if ancient Irish warriors had once traversed that path with the promise of sacred blessings. And what they'd made of the bog once they got there.

The rest of her passage through the dense forest was as uneventful as her arrival had been, and it was not overly long before she broke through the tree line. The rubbish heaps stretched before her; the city gates just beyond. She'd never been so happy to see junk in all its chaotic glory. Skirting the desolate jumble, she was again tainted by doubt. She had yet to cross paths with a single soul and the Labyrinth was anything but uninhabited. Far from relieved, she instead vacillated between anger and fear. Those emotions were magnified tenfold when she entered the city unchecked. No goblin army attempted to route her; no monstrous metal contraption attempted to crush her. The lack was almost insulting.

The last time she'd been through the city, it had been bustling. Now it was shuttered. She eyed the remnants of her first visit: cannon balls studding the walls, boulders incorporated into new builds; even a monument, unnoticed before, to the 'Great Battle'. The casting was rather unflattering – she was sure her nose was not that big and Ambrosius did not have two heads - but it was difficult not to feel a little pride. She wondered if they'd amend it to read 'Girl who became Queen'. Fairytales had taught her hat a queen needed subjects… and a king. Those she was decidedly without.

Sarah halted outside the palace. Embarrassment withered her resolve. It was hard not to search the windows, wondering if he watched – unwilling to meet her halfway. The possibility made her angry again. Perhaps this was some sort of penance. She would have preferred the cleaners, all things considered.

She found her way to the throne room by rote. The hallways, for once, actually obliged her. Her mood shifted further when she saw what lay before the door. She recognized the would-be crown immediately, and noted the added shine. It was still ugly. Beautifully ugly, she amended giddily.

'All queens need crowns.' She couldn't stop the smile that followed.

It vanished when she opened the throne room doors; the colour draining from her face.

A lone figure occupied the throne, resplendent in silk and glossy sable hair. Sarah vainly tried to swallow the sudden lump threatening to choke her. All the doubts and fears that had dogged her so relentlessly collided, coalesced and bottle-necked in her throat.

The other woman appraised Sarah with dark-eyed interest.

It was all a cruel joke; the stupid dress just tar and feathers. The overwhelming sense of betrayal was as surprising as it was staggering. It left a vile taste in her mouth and she wanted to rail at the unfairness of it all. The first tendrils of jealously crept up her spine.

They dissolved with recognition. "You're…"

Etain's lips twitched with a barely suppressed smile. "I am."

Something akin to relief swelled her chest, before being swiftly replaced by embarrassment. She had the perverse urge to apologize. "You know who I am."

"I wouldn't say that exactly." Etain canted her head. "I've heard such… varied accounts; I'm not really sure who you are at all. Your reputation certainly precedes you." The tone was part amusement, part diplomacy.

Sarah winced. Though Etain appeared the younger, she felt like a naughty child in her presence. A naughty child who done many naughty things against and with her son. Sarah's cheeks blazed tellingly.

Etain laughed at the display, but it was a lovely lilting sound and it cut through the tension keenly. She rose from the throne and approached with graceful and assured steps that Sarah couldn't help but envy. She gently smoothed a smudge of dirt from Sarah's face and smiled.

Sarah mirrored it. "I wanted to meet you."

Etain looked delighted with her admission.

Riven was arrogant and callous and compelling – every inch a Goblin King, but Etain… Etain had always been the eponymous character in the story. The bride stolen by moonlight. The woman who had rocked a blonde-haired babe by the fire.

"Did you regret your decision?" Sarah blurted. She hadn't meant to ask that question, not at least, without a proper preamble, but there it lay.

Far from being insulted, Etain sounded amused. "Why? Do you?"

"I don't know yet."

Etain nodded. "But you think I do?"

"I think lots of things," Sarah admitted. Recent events fueled her tongue. "I think they have always done exactly as they've wanted. I think it's unfair." She thought of Riven's cold calculation; of his manipulations. "I think you weren't given a choice. Not really."

"But you were," Etain countered calmly. She gestured at the room. "And yet here you are."

"But it's not the same…" Sarah trailed off; frustration mounting.

"No, it's not."

Sarah faltered under her even gaze. She found Etain entirely disarming. "Why are you here? Why now and not before?"

Etain's voice softened. "Did you suppose I would help you? Save you from your fate?"

"I – yes. Maybe…" Sarah floundered. She hadn't framed it as such until then. And once said, it sounded somehow ridiculous. "I thought you'd understand at least."

Etain took Sarah's hands in hers. "Because I was stolen? Because I was a mortal too?" She squeezed. "I do. But you forget that I am also Riven's wife. That I am also Jareth's mother," she added pointedly. 'Don't pity me,' was the unspoken.

Sarah felt foolish and tried to pull her hands back, but Etain held on. She brushed her thumb over the garnet ring thoughtfully.

"And you didn't need rescuing." Etain released her and moved to the window, her dark eyes scanning the sprawling chaos below. "You're definitely unique. Dismantled a kingdom. Denied a king his crown. Escaped… Broke all the rules." She shot Sarah a coy look over her shoulder. "Very goblin-like; they just adore breaking rules."

Her words echoed Riven's and Sarah looked surprised. "You sound like you approve."

"Naturally. It's much better this way, I think; turning the world upside down as you did." Etain's eyes danced with mischief. "I expect big things from this."

Sarah was beginning to suspect Jareth did not inherit his mercurial nature from his father.

She joined Etain at the window. "I wouldn't say I escaped." Cast out more like.

"If you think you didn't have any agency in it, you'd be mistaken," Etain admonished.

Sarah sniffed.

"You certainly had some in your return."

And that was the issue. This was a life she barely knew, even less understood, and yet she'd chosen it over her own. Looking at the chaotic vista below, the reality of it all began to seep through the cracks and she hadn't even seen him yet. He was a whole other unknown and his absence was…

"There are… a lot of unknowns," she said instead.

"I remember that feeling." For a moment, Etain looked nothing more than the fragile, wayward girl she'd once been. It was hard to imagine whose mother she became. "But you'll learn," she continued blithely. The fragility vanished. "It's a leap of faith, to be sure, but you've already made the first. As I suspected you would."

The spark of triumph colouring Etain's tone set Sarah on edge.

"Suspected?"

"Predicted… advised." Etain waved a hand dismissively. "Nothing of import. You like a challenge; that's your key."

Sarah's edge sharpened. "Key?

Etain leaned in and whispered, "What is the value in a falcon until it has been released? There is no way to know a bird is tamed until it has had the chance to taste freedom and returns to its master."

She stood back and let the implication sink in; a mixture of pity and delight on her lovely face.

"Riven thought otherwise," she added confidentially. "But I'll be delighted to tell him I was right and he was wrong. He'll just hate that."

Sarah was at a loss. Hands fisted at her side and red crept up her neck. It was ridiculous to feel betrayed, but she did.

"It's too late for doubts now; what's done is done," Etain chided perceptively. "You made the choice, remember? And choice is only of worth when there is something to lose."

Sarah pulled away angrily. "Was this just some game to all of you?"

Etain halted her with a slim hand – the mark on her palm clearly visible. "The very best sort; the kind for keeps."

Sarah instinctively flexed her bare one.

Etain noted the slight tell, but she offered no comment. She touched the stains on Sarah's dress. "These are marks of bravery, I think." Her tone was almost envious. "You should wear them proudly. You are far from helpless. Don't forget that you are both bruised, even if you cannot see the marks."

Sarah scoffed and paced away, but Etain rounded on her by the throne.

"I'm no victim, Sarah. And neither are you. Make no mistake." Her face held a fierce light. "However it may have begun, Riven is as much mine as I am his."

Sarah could not doubt it. In that moment, she could see what had once captivated a Goblin King – what Riven had pursued so relentlessly and perhaps what had ensnared him in the end. To own a Goblin King. Sarah was in awe; her anger temporarily checked.

Etain's voice softened. "I should go. I'm certainly not needed here; my part is played – at least for now. It is your time." A slight nudge landed Sarah in the throne.

Etain descended the steps.

"Wait!" Sarah rose; suddenly needing reassurance. "What's going to happen?"

Etain turned, her dark eyes dancing again. "You think I know?"

"I think you know your son," Sarah parried.

"I do. But I'll leave you to manage him. That I never learned."

Etain laughed at Sarah's stricken expression. "I wouldn't worry overly. I merely wanted to meet you properly; this time without artifice." Another coy, secretive smile. "I'm sure I've delayed the inevitable long enough as it is."

Sarah shook her head in confusion.

"Remember the words? What is bound cannot be divided. It must be undone…" Sarah stilled, blanching at the familiar cadence of the voice, eyes flicking to the folds of the queen's blue cloak. "…and then made stronger," Etain finished with a wink. "Fáilte ar ais, Sarah." She faded from the room.

Sarah sat down heavily on the throne and took several measuring breaths. Hysterical laughter boiled. Etain had shaken her more than Jareth ever had.

A slight sound made her look up. Or not.

The devil himself was in the doorway; an imposing figure in hues of midnight and limned by amber light. His eyes slaked over her, expression guarded. They flicked to the throne and then returned to her face.

"Are you here to conquer or to surrender?"

She rose and hastily stepped away from the dais. Under his piercing scrutiny, she fought the urge to fidget – failing spectacularly. Of all the scenarios she'd imagined, all the ways she'd played it out in her head, this had not been it. Silence descended.

"Is that all you have to say to me?" Her voice cracked tellingly.

"Ah." Jareth raised a brow. "Not surrender then."

He smoothly clicked the door shut behind him, and then watched her expectantly.

The tenuous hold she'd had on her emotions finally broke. "You didn't come!"

His eyes flickered, the mask slipping briefly before sliding back into place. "And you didn't call." He brushed past her and sank into his throne. "It must be positively aggravating to not have things go as you want," he mocked.

Sarah sucked in a sharp breath, but Jareth wasn't through with her.

"Did you think I would fall at your feet in thanks? Host a fanfare for your victorious return? You seem to forget that you're the villain here." He paused. "Though I appreciate that you didn't sack the city this time."

"I'd hate to be predictable," Sarah replied snidely. How easily they fell into their old ways.

The silence bled to uncomfortable before Sarah spoke again. "Is the… is everything okay now?"

Jareth steepled his fingers thoughtfully. "Some things, yes. Others… no. But order has been restored, if that's what you meant."

Something in his hooded eyes and clipped tone set Sarah on edge. Every even breath he took increased her resentment.

"Too bad." She didn't mean it. Not really. "I could have had a perfect record."

The silence stretched again. Jareth sighed this time. For a moment he looked strained. "Must I always be the reasonable one, Sarah? It's becoming rather tiring."

Sarah mouthed the word incredulously. Jareth said nothing – if anything he looked bored. She bristled at his easy control.

"What? Do you expect ME to beg?" Angry tears burned her eyes but she'd be damned if she was ever going to cry in front of him again. She laughed humourlessly. "Aren't those supposed to be your lines?"

Jareth's eyes narrowed. "I learned a long time ago not to expect you to do anything. Saves myself the disappointment. And a lot of castle repairs."

"So sorry to constantly disappoint then," she hissed wrathfully and strode towards the door. It disappeared as soon as she touched it.

"You can't always run away. I thought we'd agreed." The low words were spoken against the nape of her neck, his breath feathering through her loose hair. Hands caged her against the stone; his heart beat steadily against her back.

Sarah turned her head slightly, licking her suddenly dry lips. "I came back, didn't I?"

"Yes," he breathed. "You did."

Within those words lay everything unsaid.

For a moment Jareth just held her, trapped between him and the unyielding stone; the cords of his control fraying. He was terrified that she would somehow vanish, slipping through his fingers yet again. Angry she had waited so long. Her transience was novel; her powers unknown. He both hated and loved her for it. But there she was, against all odds, within his arms.

Willingly.

The cords finally snapped.

Jareth turned her roughly, pressing her back against the wall, and then his mouth was on hers. Hands traced her jaw line, her neck, the hollow of her throat. Everywhere he touched it burned. Sarah noticed his gloves were gone. His teeth scraped against her lips, forcing them to part so he could deepen the kiss. He tangled a hand in her hair to better angle her head.

Sarah's hands clutched reflexively on the open folds of his shirt and then slid over the firm planes of his chest to wrap around his neck almost desperately. She arched into him - offering. Jareth hissed in response and pressed an open-mouth kiss to her neck, his tongue hot against her pulse. He tugged her dress down off one shoulder and bit down roughly. Sarah shuddered in response. He growled his approval against her skin. The sound was almost feral. Definitely not human.

His hands smoothed down her back and cupped her rear - fingers splayed - pulling her against him sharply. Sarah could feel the hard length of him through the thin layers of cloth. She knew he'd only allow one outcome this time. She only wanted one. An aching coil unfurled within her and her breathing fractured. His was ragged. Jareth's loss of control was fire in her veins - empowering.

But it also terrified. Her body was already ten steps ahead of her mind. She pushed him back decisively and ran shaking hands through her hair.

Jareth's eyes narrowed and he took a step forward, but Sarah held a hand against his chest. His heart was racing beneath her palm.

Jareth wrapped his fingers around her wrist. "This is a dangerous game you play," he warned.

"I - I just need a minute to think." A minute to breathe.

"The last time I gave you a minute to think you won your brother back and felled my kingdom." He raised her restraining hand and pressed a hot, open mouthed kiss against her palm. Sarah's eyelashes fluttered and her fingers instinctively curled against his jaw. Jareth smiled. "I think I prefer when your mind is otherwise occupied."

Sarah snatched her hand back. "Stop distracting me!"

His eyes flashed. Too late, Sarah realized she had challenged him.

She ducked around him and warily backed away. "I just think we need to talk before… We just need to talk."

Jareth's lips twitched as he easily paced her step for step. He didn't look like he had any intention of wasting breath on words.

Her body was still mutinously thrumming in response to his; knees embarrassingly weak. She took another faltering step back and met the edge of the stairs, landing hard on the steps.

Jareth loomed above her, one hand on the throne by her head; voice deceptively soft. "Well? Speak."

Their relative positions meant Sarah's eyes were at his waist. They flicked down of their own volition. "Um…" Her mouth went dry and her questions were instantly forgotten. Eyes flew back to his face in embarrassment.

But Jareth was intently focused on undoing the cuffs of his shirt.

"Wh-what are you doing?"

Jareth paused only briefly. "Undressing." His tone suggested it should have been patently obvious.

Sarah scrambled to her feet. "What? Why?" She looked around. "Here?" Everything was spiraling out of control.

Jareth grinned unrepentantly. A flash and then they were in the tower bedroom. The doors were notably absent.

"Better?" His shirt now hung open from his shoulders, revealing the smooth expanse of his chest. His skin was pale and unblemished, lithe muscles and stark lines marked his strength. A line of fair hair began a tantalizing trail from his navel and disappeared beneath the waist of his pants. Pants that were slung dangerously low on narrow hips.

Sarah cleared her throat shakily. "I said we needed to talk!"

"And you did. 'Um' was very enlightening." He closed the distance between them.

Sarah squeaked, much to her shame, and danced backwards out of reach.

Jareth chuckled. "For someone here to conquer, you seem decidedly meek."

"I never said I was here to conquer."

His smile deepened. "Surrender then. How refreshing!"

Sarah couldn't help but laugh in return. "I didn't mean that and you know it."

"I know you want me," he countered smoothly. His voice was deep, heavy, temping. All traces of mockery were gone.

"I don't want you." The words came automatically. Defensively. She'd meant right now, if anything. Even then it was a partial lie.

A slow smile spread across his face, telling Sarah that he knew deceit. "And yet… you're here."

The words sobered her. "Why do I feel like I haven't come back willingly, so much as been manipulated back?"

Jareth sighed and poured himself a glass of wine. He took a sip and then chose a fruit from the nearby bowl.

"Peach?" he offered innocently.

Sarah pulled a face.

"I let you go, Sarah. I didn't have to." I didn't want to. He drained the glass, eyes raking over her hotly. "But don't expect me to be entirely honourable."

Sarah wasn't sure how to process that.

"But you didn't come." Hurt coloured her tone.

"Don't mistake absence for weakness. Or ignorance. I saw what you did." He stalked towards her. "Everything you did."

Sarah blushed, but forced herself not to retreat. "You can't blame me for trying to provoke you. You yourself said you don't share."

Jareth smiled darkly. "I don't. Neither do I play my hand by your command." I played it after. But Sarah didn't need to know that. The boy was fine. Mostly.

His fingers cupped her chin. "I won't lie; I savoured your disappointments." They tightened when she tried to pull away. "Don't begrudge me my petty victories, Sarah. I told you I loved you. You told me nothing."

The words hung heavy between them. Part accusation. Part challenge.

Jareth spared her the need to speak by pulling her closer. He breathed the words against her lips. "I didn't come, because I didn't need to."

He didn't tell her that he'd been uncertain. That he'd doubted. That letting her go had been the hardest thing he'd ever done. That not coming had been even harder. He didn't need to.

But Sarah hovered at the edge of the kiss, hesitating. "And what if… if I hadn't come back?"

His fingers flexed against her arms and his eyes flickered. "Do you really want the answer to that question?"

Staring up at him, she realized she didn't. It could wait. Perhaps it didn't matter. And perhaps she already knew. He would always be the villain. Her villain.

Jareth felt her surrender - that small submission he'd been waiting for. He could not help the look of satisfaction that flashed across his face. Sarah would no doubt make him pay for it later. They had forever to work out their differences. He eyed her mutinous expression. Or more likely never. He'd enjoy that too.

Forever.

Jareth's kiss was victorious. Fingers curling into her hair, his mouth slanted against hers roughly. He tasted like spice and wine. Sarah returned the intensity, her teeth nipping at his lips, along his jaw. Her hands explored the expanse of his chest. When her nails skimmed over his nipples he sucked in a breath. Sarah smiled against his mouth. She was entitled to her victories too.

When she repeated the motion, Jareth hissed and bent his mouth to her throat. His teeth scraped against her sensitive skin, drawing a mewling sound from her. He could feel her heat against his naked skin. But it wasn't enough. Jareth's hands dropped to the laces of her gown and deftly began its destruction. The dress dropped to her hips before Sarah even noticed. Her upper half was left clad in only a thin silk under slip. With the fading light behind her, she knew he could see the outlines of her breasts through the material; the peaks dark against the fabric. They tightened in response.

Jareth's expression turned flinty. Flustered by his intense scrutiny, Sarah sucked in a breath and closed the distance between them, using his body as a cover. She licked at his jaw line and her hands trailed lightly across his stomach.

Jareth laughed, not fooled for an instant by her distraction. But he groaned softly in appreciation when she nipped his ear lobe, the angle of her body pressing her breasts against his bare chest. His hands tightened on her back, his fingers following the gentle curve of her spine. Goosebumps arose in their wake.

When he reached for the ties on her slip, Sarah shivered and coyly danced out of his arms. This was another sort of game to be played. He lunged for her. She sidestepped him in a twirl of fabric. The dress slid further down her hips, revealing the shadow of a dark triangle through the sheer material.

He sportingly let her dodge again before he easily hauled her back against his chest.

"You had your chance," he breathed into her ear, voice rough and possessive.

Sarah's legs trembled, but he held her tight against him, his hardened length pressing into her back. He snaked one arm around her and cupped a heavy breast, his thumb expertly circling the nipple until it strained against the thin fabric, begging to be freed. With his other hand, he tugged up her skirts and skimmed his fingers across her bare thighs. He smiled at her lack of undergarments. Jareth slid his hand over her core, revelling at her dampness, until he found the spot that made Sarah gasp. By the third expert flick, she was writhing against his hold.

Annoyed at how easily he could manipulate her, she squeezed her thighs shut and grabbed his arm to pull him away. He used his knee to force her legs apart and with a quick turn of his wrist he grasped her hand and pushed two of her own fingers into her slick folds. Sarah gasped at the unexpected invasion. She watched breathlessly, fighting a moan of protest, as he withdrew them and then slowly slid them into his mouth. Spellbound, Sarah craned her neck backwards. His tongue swept along her fingers, savouring. She was poised to fight, but she stopped at the shudder that ran through him; as though the taste of her undid him. Sarah wet her suddenly dry lips.

Eyes dancing, Jareth gripped her by the back of the neck and slid his tongue into her mouth. Tit for tat. He owed her, after all. Sarah's knees went weak.

Jareth swung her into his arms without breaking the kiss and swiftly lowered her to the bed. He pulled back just enough to speak; arms caging her head. "Tell me you don't want me," he challenged.

Sarah swallowed thickly. "W-what?"

"Say it again. Ask me to stop. Otherwise I won't." Say your right words… His expression said it wouldn't matter anyway.

Sarah had come too far to turn back now.

When she spoke it was a harsh whisper against his lips, hands curling into his hips. "Don't stop."

He smiled triumphantly against her mouth, and then turned his attention to her aching breasts. When he sucked a nipple into his mouth through the chemise, Sarah almost moaned. Her hands twined through his hair, torn between pushing him away and holding him down. His tongue circled where his thumb had before. When he bit down lightly, his teeth teasing maddeningly through the silk, she did cry out.

Jareth raised his head to grin wickedly. "Really, Sarah. Think of the poor goblins." And then he bit down on the other one.

Incensed by the look of smug satisfaction on his face, Sarah managed to push him back. He allowed it, but only because he'd gripped the thin silk of her slip and the force of her push tore it apart. Gift wrapped indeed, she thought perversely, before instinctively crossing her arms.

Jareth swatted them away easily. "I think not," he tsk'd, fey eyes glinting.

When she tried to do it again, purely out of spite, he glared at her and effortlessly forced them apart, holding her wrists down on either side of her. She wanted to protest at his high-handed tactics - it seemed only fair - but the look on his face silenced her. Both irises were so dark they were almost black. She could see the tips of canines against his parted lips. Sarah thought, with a delicious shudder, that he had never looked less human.

And never more reverent.

Sarah had never been looked at like that before.

It made her feel vulnerable and empowered at the same time. Her skin prickled in anticipation and her chest heaved, which drew an appreciative hiss from Jareth. He ghosted a hand over her white skin slowly, fingers barely touching - memorizing, and then met her eyes. Sarah bit her lip at his unguarded expression.

"You're beautiful," he breathed roughly. And then bent his head to show her how much.

His lips were hot against her neck; his fingers slid across her sensitive breasts with delicious friction. His mouth followed suit, trailing a burning path across her nipples. He used his tongue and teeth to torment.

If this was what it meant to be devoured, Jareth was right - she did welcome it.

Sarah felt his fingers slide up her inner thigh, beneath her bunched up skirts, pausing to tease at her entrance. He slowly slid a digit in; eyes rapt on her face. She stared boldly back until the sensation made her lids flutter tellingly and her breathing hitched. Jareth's lips twitched at her response. Another finger joined the first, spreading her folds. It was the same and yet different than her own. His movements were practiced, reaching places she'd never even known she'd had. Hazily, she thought she'd never watch him spin a crystal the same way again.

Sarah arched into his touch, her nipples brushing against the firm planes of his bare chest. He growled low in his throat, pulling back just enough to wrench the shirt from his shoulders. Sarah matched his fervour, catching at his lips, his chin, and his neck with her teeth. Her nails raked down his back, sliding beneath the waist of his pants to cup the flesh beneath. Jareth bucked into the cradle her hips. Sarah squirmed in response, pressing back, trying ineffectually to ease the ache that now bordered on discomfort.

Jareth hissed at her motions; he could feel how ready she was through their remaining clothing and it felt like vindication. He tore her remaining skirts away; the fabric rending beneath his fingers until she was laid bare. His eyes raked over her, pausing on her bruised lips, on the marks he'd left on her full breasts, on the damp thatch of curls between her lovely thighs, before returning to her sea-green eyes. Far from looking vulnerable, she looked fierce and powerful – the mortal girl, now woman, who'd beaten him. Twice. He was in awe. A queen.

His queen.

"Mine." The word was rough and raw, bereft of reason or poise.

Sarah realized with a frisson of delight and fear that this would be no gentle loving. Not tonight. It was a claiming. For both of them. To the victor go the spoils.

She tugged at the fastening of his pants, green eyes flashing.

"And you're mine."

Jareth stilled in surprise, before they both dragged them off his hips.

For a moment she felt a pang of trepidation. There would be no going back. But then she boldly dipped a hand down the trail of hair that had captivated her before, and wrapped it around his shaft, smoothing it down the long length. When she tentatively ran her thumb over the head and squeezed, Jareth gasped, a shudder running through him. He allowed her to explore him slowly, revelling in her soft touches even as he wanted nothing more than to hold her down and finally have his due.

Their due, he amended at look of pure possessiveness on her face. It fueled his own.

Sarah knew Jareth was holding himself back – giving her the lead. She saw the tension in his wrists; the corded muscles in his neck. He throbbed in her hand. Again, the sense of power sent a thrill though her. He looked wild and untamed, but she had a Goblin King at her mercy. Her Goblin King, she thought deliciously.

And then the restraint snapped.

With deft hands he captured her fingers. For a moment she struggled with him, but Jareth was through being denied. Eyes locked on hers he pressed her back into the bed, using his thigh to part her legs. Cupping her neck, he kissed her deeply, delving into her mouth. His other hand palmed her firm breasts, skillfully teasing her abused nipples. The ache within her intensified and she hooked a slim leg around his thighs to lock them together. She used her hips to rub herself against his length.

Jareth's jaw clenched. He slid his hand between them, teasing over her nub, before positioning himself at her entrance. He paused, eyes returning to her face. Sarah thought he was going to ask if she was ready. She was ready to beg.

Her lips parted just as Jareth pressed himself into her with one smooth motion, robbing her words. He'd learned long ago not to give her the chance to speak. He groaned at her tightness, at the wet heat that welcomed him. For a moment he just held her, his breathing ragged against her neck. Precious things needed to be savoured.

But her inner walls contracted and he was lost.

Sarah had forgotten how to breathe. Shocked by the sudden feeling of fullness, her body froze. His heart was erratic against her breast. It felt right. She made a tentative motion, half instinctual, and Jareth snapped. He pulled back and drove forward – hard – and then again, rocking their hips together until they found their rhythm. Sarah hooked her other leg around him, drawing him even deeper. Her nails traced the hard planes of his back, while his mouth devoured. He bowed back to draw a breast into mouth with his teeth. Sarah threw her head back in ecstasy. Vaguely she realized she was making a sort of mewling sound. Jareth was murmuring words against her skin she didn't understand, so she guessed they were even.

Whatever Jareth had imagined, had hoped for, had wished… did not compare to the sight and feel of a pliant Sarah beneath him - A Sarah who writhed so willingly, so wantonly; who responded to his touch with such abandon. And gave as good in return.

His.

At last.

A feeling of connection spread across Sarah, beyond the physical. It entwined their bodies like a net - binding. Instinct made her want to fight, but she was already lost. The only sound was the beating of Jareth's heart. She could feel it thrum into her own chest and for a moment it seemed that her own strove to match its rhythm.

Hers.

Jareth knew he should slow down - draw it out longer - but he couldn't. That would have to come later. Instead he gripped Sarah beneath her thigh and pushed her leg up to deepen the angle. Their movements became more frenzied; their pelvises colliding with every thrust. They'd both be bruised tomorrow. Jareth would kiss them all away. And then make new ones.

He slid a hand between their bodies, until he found the spot again. With skilled fingers he drew Sarah's mewls into a full keening wail. He could feel her tightening around him, drawing him deeper with every thrust. He struggled for control. A moment later he felt her contract around him, impossibly tight; her wail turning to a silent scream. He let himself follow.

Sarah's mind went blank – driven by pure sensation. The ache that had coiled and unfurled within her burst into a thousand points of light. Jareth had once said that he moved the stars for no one. She was pretty sure he just had. Only half aware, she could feel the force of his release. Jareth growled against her breast, the words broken and rough. His expression was unguarded and raw. He strained against her, and then his lithe body shuddered.

For the next few minutes the only sound was their erratic breathing. Pushing back slightly, Jareth smoothed the hair from Sarah's face and dipped down to brush a gentle kiss across her tender lips. Looking at her flushed cheeks and drugged eyes, he knew himself lost. She'd come to conquer after all, he mused.

His eyes trailed down her naked body. A surge of pure male satisfaction shot through him as they strayed to the damp curls and glossy wetness of her thighs.

Sarah tried to feign outrage, but merely smiled - part shy, part triumphant.

Snaking his arms around her possessively, he rolled them; bodies still joined.

"Mine," he breathed into her ear.

Say your right words…

"I love you," she whispered back.

Sarah felt him still beneath her, his lithe frame going rigid.

And then he hardened inside her, skilled hands dropping to her hips.

Please leave a contribution in the little box
(bet that line didn't seem dirty, 'til now).

AN: *fans self* About time, eh? Uninterrupted naughtiness. No ground opening up this time. Hope you liked. I tried (not very hard) to keep it tasteful and as per this site's standards (within M rating). If it offended you, I'm sorry (only I'm not really). No seriously, I tried really hard to be the right level of explicit.

I also hope you enjoyed your bit of Etain and the revelation of what part she's played in it all. I thought it strangely fitting… poignant?... that Goblin Queens act the role of the Voice, effectively helping to bind the next generation.

And I hope you bothered to read (and approved of?) the non-smut bits. Those were important too. *shrugs* I guess.

Another HUGE thank you for all of your lovely feedback! It has meant the WORLD to me. As has your (im)patience. I never meant to take so long to write this friggin' story. Good thing I'm not a real writer or I'd starve. But now I only have one chapter left (woot!) – and maybe, an epilogue. Duh, duh, duh!

Notes:

To pre-empt any questions or confusion (due to length btw updates) – the italicized part at the beginning is the hinted at scene in chapter 34. BEFORE Jareth sent Sarah back above ground. It picks up from the line: '"Jareth," spoke a feminine voice' in chapter 34.

Tar & Feathers – In case some of you have not heard of this act, it was used to publicly shame an individual in old time vigilante justice. The victim was covered in tar and then rolled in feathers and then paraded through town.

'Fáilte ar ais' – 'Welcome back' in Irish Gaelic

Sarah thinking Jareth was right about welcoming being devoured is a reference to their heated conversation in chapter 15.

Bonus: There is Celtic knot work in the throne room in Labyrinth. Watch the movie again and you'll see it. I literally just discovered that little bit of icing (and I have watched the movie far too many times).

Small(ish) anecdote: When I started writing this story, my husband (fiancé at the time) was intrigued, having never heard of fanfiction. I explained the whole secret world to him and then outlined my story (as far I as I knew it at the time). He surprisingly, as he is not interested in reading overly much, wanted to read it.

I wouldn't let him.

Finally, after much haranguing, I printed a copy off for him. I think I was up to like chapter 25 or so at the time. He made it to about chapter 12 before he started asking when the "action" was going to start. I tried to explain plot development, character analysis, etc. He just grinned boyishly, clearly having figured out fanfic's guilty secret. He made it to about chapter 18 before he asked again. Whenever I got writer's block and turned to him for inspiration, his response was another cheeky smile and a "just have them get to the sexy times already. How long is this story going to be anyway?"

(In actuality, he's not completely depraved; he did in fact enjoy the story and the tension and provided lots of lovely feedback when asked - which I did. Very infrequently).

More recently I pointed out how long ago this story was started. He was surprised and quite horrified that I've left Jareth "hanging" for almost four years. He's quite convinced that Sarah is the "biggest bleep tease" ever. Needless to say, he was like "enough is enough, the man needs relief."

*sniff* He has no finer sensibilities whatsoever.

Cheers,
Vic Wit

p.s. Go see The Avengers, if you haven't already. Hilarious. Saw it twice. I am now fangirling on Loki (played by Tom Hiddleston). I thought he was good in Thor, but he's delicious in The Avengers. What is it about lanky villains in costume? I may have a problem.

Loki and Jareth would make one hell of a team…

Wooster: I assume, sir, I may now take the liberty of disposing of these… umbrellas?

Jeeves: Right-o, take them away, Jeeves, but don't give me that look. Smut like that demanded the celebratory cocktails be properly festooned!

Wooster: If you say so, Sir. If you say so.