Kiss someone who makes you feel their magic in your bones,
who makes you wonder how can someone who looks like witchcraft at midnight taste so holy.
It seemed there was a new game afoot.
The first gift was a feather placed carefully beside her owl. It was velvet soft to the touch and downy white with a hint of iridescence if it caught the light just right. Sarah found it the following morning after issuing her brash challenge. Tired and sleep deprived from spending half the night watching the shadows dance across her walls and expecting he would bleed from them the moment she closed her eyes, she'd blinked sleepily at the new addition on the bedside table. Then she bolted up, wide awake, her heart near beating out of her chest.
There was a certain amount of intimacy in knowing the feather was his. But it was only a feather. Nothing more.
The second gift was a scrap of parchment with a hand written poem from one of her favorite poets that spoke of kisses and magic and witchcraft at midnight. As Sarah read the familiar words they echoed through her mind with his voice, all satin slipknots coiling around everything within her that was vital and tightening provocatively.
The third was a single flower nestled in a cluster of smaller flowers tied with a pretty red ribbon. A mauve carnation for dreams. Coriander blossoms for lust. Red ribbon for passion. He certainly had gotten his point across with that one.
And so on and so on. Gift after gift, all small tokens, all placed beside her owl as the damn thing peered at her just radiating a royal amount smugness. Even in the month that followed, the hectic push to graduation and then the relocation to her very own apartment, a new gift was there every morning, without fail.
Sarah, never much of an early riser, found herself growing quite fond of the bright morning sunlight streaming through her bedroom window and the thrill of anticipation that would erupt down her spine like a lit match to dry kindling as she rubbed the sleep from her eyes. And every morning there was something new to anticipate.
Then came the morning he offered her a dream.
The moment Sarah's eyes landed on the unassuming crystal orb, she knew with a wary kind of certainty that this gift was different from the rest. A dream would come with a price. To accept it would be as dicey as calling him out by name. She would lose leverage, no doubt. Though exactly how much was the question that begged to be asked.
She let it be, going about her day as normal, finding solace in the hectic routine of the theatre. But the dream lingered, flitting through her thoughts throughout the day and captivating her curiosity. By that evening her willpower was crumbling. She paced in her tiny bedroom, casting furtive glances at the crystal. It wouldn't hurt to look, right? She wouldn't touch. Only look and see what he was willing to offer.
Tentatively, Sarah crouched down before her nightstand and gazed into the crystal. For the space of a heartbeat the orb remained translucent but then the dream burst to life in a swirl of moving color.
A bare chested man. Pale skin and starlight hair, low slung breeches and sleek muscles, savage eyes and a ravenous grin. A king on his knees, the very vision of licentious supplication as he reached forward- Only to stop as a dainty foot came to rest against his shoulder. His goddess beckoned with a crooked finger, what remained of her snow white dressing gown baring more of her breasts than it concealed as she reclined indolently on his throne. Rudy lips curled in a siren's smile as she parted her silky thighs…
Sarah's breath caught, luxurious heat coursing through her veins. The air around her stirred, a cool caress against her flushed face. She bit her lip as the man- no, it was him and that was her and holy shit he was going to...
The eroticism was almost too much. She was getting wet and her body practically hummed. Unable to resist, she lifted the near weightless sphere to eye level. A very confident, very in control Sarah stared back. A queen demanding her due.
Was that her dream?
Or was it his?
What a heady and empowering thing, to hold the dream of a king in the palm of her hand. The very notion was exhilarating. The expectation, however, was quite terrifying.
The woman in that crystal was not her. Maybe, if she were his established lover with more than modicum of experience… No, she wasn't sure she could ever pull off that level of self-assuredness.
The queen arched, her head tilting back as her king feasted-
"I kneel for no one, precious thing." His voice, cashmere and shadows, teased against her ear. "But for you I find I'm willing to make an exception."
Sarah gasped, surging to her feet and looking about wildly as the crystal fell from her fingers with a dull thunk. Her hand shook as she pressed it to her neck where she'd felt his warm breath ghost ever so lightly. But there was nothing. An empty room greeted her, complete with her unmade bed and a pile of her dirty clothing in the corner.
She should be afraid. Sarah knew that was the appropriate reaction. But the dream had her under its spell and his voice promised things; dark, sinful, tempting things that could entice a naive little girl to barter away her very soul. Or perhaps turn an ordinary young woman into a queen.
Sarah's frantic gaze came to rest on the owl. It glared at her challengingly. Coward.
So that's how his glittery highness wanted to play this round? Fine. They'd play. She would take the bait and let him think he was managing her and then she'd take pleasure in reminding him just how she'd put his supercilious ass in his place once already. She was sure she could do it again.
"Quit hiding," she hesitated, barely a second, "Jareth."
"Greedy Sarah. I was beginning to wonder how many gifts it would take before you said my name," replied the Goblin King, his teasing tone dripping with mockery.
And there he was, sprawled on her messy bed with boots rudely mucking up her bedsheets.
Sarah sucked in a breath, the magnitude of Jareth's presence taking her by surprise. She'd forgotten over the years that his aura was commanding, a dark charisma that radiated from him like a barely visible shadow. His eyes held her own, mismatched and unrivaled in their intensity. But it was his smirk, that sexy curl of his lips that tempered his menacing otherness. It wasn't cruel, this time. It was hungry.
Needing to break Jareth's hold, she raked her gaze downward, striving for boldness. She'd always assumed if he haunted her again he would come in full battle regalia, black as the night and encased in goblin armor. But this… this was anything but. He wore a white poet's shirt, the lacings untied and open to show a fair amount of his chest. Gunmetal grey breeches hugged his lean hips, fitting snugly over his thighs and leaving nothing of his endowments to her imagination. She almost licked her lips but then realized his black boots were still on her bed-
Grasping that bit of inane normalcy like a blessed lifeline, Sarah schooled her expression into her best impersonation of his imperious glare and motion to his feet. "Shoes off. Now
The Goblin King's grin only widened. "My, my. So eager to undress me already."
Well, yes but- "Off my bed," she growled, flushing at her own wantonness. Angry that his words could affect her so, she snapped, "Your manners seem to be lacking, your majesty."
"Ahh, my manners? Yes, I imagine those are a bit rusty. Don't have much use for them when surrounded by goblins day in, day out," he said drolly.
"Off my bed!" Sarah barely resisted the urge to stamp her foot.
His eyes flashed, not quite anger but more than annoyance. "I've a better idea. Why don't you undress for me. Need I remind you, that is what you offered, provided I wanted it badly enough."
Oh crap! Crap! Crap! Crap!
That was kind of what she'd said but she meant to the statue, with the veil of worlds between them and the safety net of her own imagination. Not with him only feet away with his smoldering gaze trying to turn her into a Sarah shaped puddle at his feet.
A tendril of adrenaline snaked along her spine. "But I… I didn't-"
"Oh, but you did. And you have accepted my gifts. You have even invited me personally." Jareth rose to his feet, the darkness emanating from him suddenly far more frightening. "What's said is said. Will you dare deny me?"
Instinctively, Sarah took a step back. Jareth closed the distance, matching her step for step until the cool surface of the wall met her back and halted any further retreat. He lifted his hands beside her head, bare of gloves, and braced himself as he leaned in, caging her within the width of his arms. He smelled like the forest on a mid-winter's night and it made her shiver.
His grin took on a cruel edge. "Afraid, precious?"
Yes. But not of him. Not really. She was far more afraid of what he made her feel. How it stole her reason and consumed her will and left her vulnerable to him in ways she knew he wouldn't hesitate to exploit.
But could that power go both ways?
Fear me... Love me... Do as I say...
It was always about control, wasn't it. That was the only thing he couldn't wrest from her. Oh, he could try and he undoubtedly would. He knew he could bully her, he could manipulate her, he could even entice her but in the end, the control was hers to give. And she could give a little but only if he gave as much in return.
Mustering her courage, she placed a hand against his chest, a fine trembling taking hold as her fingers found patches of warm skin. Under her palm his heart was racing. "You're not asking the right question, Jareth."
"Am I not?" He tried to hide his surprise but the way he leaned into her touch was encouraging.
"You already know I am. What you should ask is: am I going to run away?"
Ahh, there was the heat returning to his mismatched stare and a sensual curve to his thin lips. "Are you?"
"Not a chance," she replied puckishly, but then sighed, "Just don't laugh at me. I may not live up to your expectations."
Understanding lightened Jareth's expression as he read more into what she didn't say rather than what she did. The answering look he gave her wasn't tender; far, far from it. Yet it was somehow softer, less aggressive and more open. Then he gave her a taste of her own medicine, his gaze raking hotly down her body and she could honestly say she'd never felt sexy wearing a simple t-shirt and ripped knee-jeans before.
"I did not expect to receive this concession from you without a fight so you've already exceeded my expectations. Quite pleasantly, I must admit."
She knew the answer but she couldn't stop the question from spilling out, all the same. "Must everything be a game?"
At that, Jareth's mismatched eyes sparkled devilishly, Cupping her cheek, he tailed his thumb over her bottom lip, his warmth seeping into her skin deliciously. "Depends," he laughed huskily. "Surrendering already?"
Catching his thumb with her teeth, she nipped it lightly. "Never."
"Predictable little Sarah. You refuse to surrender and I shall accept nothing less." A heartbeat later his hand was in her hair, fisting. He tilted her head to the side, his grip firm and just bordering on painful as he leaned in slowly to nip at her throat, the sting sharp but quickly soothed by the languid sweep of his tongue. Her knees nearly buckled as he hissed into her skin, "Then lets up the ante, shall we?
She tried to focus, this was important and she knew that. But it was so hard to breathe, much less think, when he marked her again and soothed the sting with another open-mouthed kiss. Then in another heartbeat he was gone, back beside her bed and retrieving the crystal she'd dropped earlier. He held it up with a smirk but the rapid rise and fall of his chest belied his practiced nonchalance.
Biting back a curse, Sarah drew some much needed air into her lungs and willed her legs to bear her weight.
"Did you like my gift?" he asked, twisting his wrist and running the crystal along his knuckles before displaying it with a flourish. "This is a one-of-a-kind dream. Only for you."
Frustrated and overwhelmed, Sarah rolled her eyes with more bravado than she honestly possessed. "Which part? You fucking me with your tongue or letting me sit on your throne?" It was crass but so worth the widening of Jareth's eyes as she crossed her arms defiantly.
The asshat simply threw his head back and laughed, the rich sound filling the room. When he finally met her gaze there was grudging appreciation lacing his voice. "Both, I should think. In the past I have never been the one to beg."
"And you have an awful lot of past, don't you?" she asked sourly, remembering her conversation with Hoggle about all the eligible women vying for his attention.
"Yes," Jareth admitted unrepentantly. "Though, I'm not above begging for you." It was almost sweet, if it wasn't clear by his expression that he didn't feel he would have to.
Obviously she was making this too easy. "What if I'm the one thing you can't have?"
"If? You don't sound very convincing," Jareth chided, but his smile slipped as he looked into the crystal, considering. A pang of disappointment twisted her stomach when the crystal vanished in a puff of sparkles. Disappointment shifted to caution when he turned his shrewd contemplation back to her. "A final game then," he said decisively. "Winner takes all."
Perhaps it was always coming to this moment. The culmination of ten years of longing, mistrust, and suppressed desire and everything else that lay unresolved between the Goblin King and the champion of his labyrinth. There was much Sarah still didn't understand, about Jareth and maybe even a little bit about herself too. It seemed this would be her last chance to figure it all out and maybe find some closure, one way or another.
"What do you propose?' she asked softly.
"Three days and three nights you give yourself to me." Jareth's smirk returned, clearly anticipating her reaction as he'd already raised a hand to halt her protests. "Let me finish." When she held her tongue, he chuckled darkly. "Not as a slave, precious, but as a companion and a lover. Allow me to show you first hand all that I can offer you so that you truly know what it is to be my queen. On the fourth morning you will choose if you wish to remain in the Underground or return to your mortal life. If you choose this life then I will rescind the certain powers I've bestowed upon you. My subjects and I will never bother you again. But if you choose me then understand there will be no going back."
"So that's it? I either choose my family or I choose my dearest friends." When Jareth's insufferable smile only widened wolfishly, Sarah's exasperation snapped. Pushing away from the wall, she stalked the few steps forward and poked her finger into his chest. Hard. "Bullshit! If you want me; and I mean really want me, like for keeps, then you have to meet me halfway. Six nights, from sundown to sunrise my time is yours. I have things that I need to do during the day. When the agreed upon time is up, I will make a choice. But if I choose you, and that is a really big if, I am not giving up my family. Either I get to see them whenever I want or you'll have to come up with a new scheme because I will not negotiate that, understand?" she growled, poking his chest once more for good measure.
"And I suppose you expect the same access to my treasonous subjects should you reject me again?" he countered with a burgeoning sneer, snatching her hand in a punishing grip.
Hiding her wince, Sarah shrugged. "It will only work in your favor if you allow it. Not so much if you say no."
Arching a winged brow, Jareth mused, "So it would." Mollified, he eased his tight hold and taking her hand in the both of his, began to rub away the discomfort. "As for the matter of forfeit: should you deny my advances, fail to meet the specified duration of sunset to sunrise or utter the words 'it's not fair', you forfeit the game. Thus my power over you is returned, your life Aboveground is rendered void and you shall be at my mercy for eternity."
Sarah's glare would have ended a lesser man. Jareth remained unfazed and merely cocked his head, awaiting her counter offer.
"Tricky, tricky Goblin King," she tisked. "Alright, lets see… First: you can not demand anything I'm not physically capable of doing or that would cause me harm no matter how trivial. Second: no using magic to delay or alter my time in any way that would cause me to forfeit. Third: no using my family or your subjects as leverage against me. Oh! And no poisoning me. If you forfeit I retain the right for my friends to visit me but you will be unable to come within a mile of me even as an owl. And there'll be no more spying. No statues, crystals or anything. Got it?"
"No magic and possible banishment. You are cruel, Sarah." Pouting, Jareth mulled over her terms for a long moment, then finally nodded with an acquiescent sigh. "I did up the stakes. Seems we have an accord."
Feeling a curious mix of uncertainty and anticipation, Sarah forced a light smile. "We do. So…" She glanced at the clock and asked, "It's almost midnight. Are the six nights starting now?"
"Tomorrow, precious. Tonight I am here to claim my reward." Lifting her hand to his cheek, Jareth turned his head ever so slightly to place a kiss directly in the center of her palm. Despite the simplicity of the gesture, she damn near melted. His growing smirk said he knew it as well. "I did best your challenge. I intend to collect."
Of course. How could she forget?
Swallowing down the lump of nerves suddenly coalescing in her throat, Sarah glanced down at herself, trying to remember what underwear she'd put on that morning, miserably certain they were functional and not at all sexy and probably didn't even match. Luckily, she'd shaved her legs the night before. Small consolation that was. Well… best to just get it over with. But first-
"You. Sit," she commanded, ignoring Jareth's immense amusement as she pushed him back onto her bed and then scuttled away out of his reach. He sprawled gracelessly, leaning up on one elbow to continue watching her and… and… ugh! He was still oozing sex appeal without even trying. Damn him!
Sarah eyed her nightgown, at the foot of the bed. Okay, so all she had to do was strip down to her underwear and then put it on. Piece of cake.
Squaring her shoulders, she dove in. Blushing like a virgin, which she wasn't, she toed off her sneakers, then her socks. She hesitated for the slightest second and then just pulled the t-shirt over her head. Oh good. She was wearing her blue bra with the stripes. Certainly not the worst one, for sure. With a bit more confidence, she reached for the buttons of her jeans and then flinched as her t-shirt reappeared without warning. She hadn't even felt the magic.
"What the fuck, Jareth?" she snapped. Making the mistake of looking up to glare at him, her frustration died a pitiful, whimpering death under the naked yearning he didn't bother to hide.
"By the terms you issued, I am not allowed to touch, only observe. A fact I am cursing quite vehemently, I assure you. Since all I can do is watch, unless you otherwise specify, I simply ask that you not rush. How is it said in your theatre world?" he tapped his chin, then brightened, "Ah, yes. Once more, with feeling."
"I'm a set designer, not a stripper," she replied dryly. Feeling bared under the intensity of his perusal, she said, "I warned you that I might not meet your expectations."
It was another boost to her confidence when the raw want that Jareth exuded did not diminish in the slightest. "With your permission, I would be more than happy to assist."
The statement was so absurd that Sarah laughed. "Now you're going to ask permission? It didn't stop you earlier."
"You initiated contact. I was only taking advantage of the opportunity presented," he explained. "Those were your terms. Only you can change them, precious."
Sarah's body burned just thinking of his hands on her. Her mind, however, urged caution. With the tension between them near palpable, she whispered, "I don't know…"
"Why do you hesitate, I wonder?" he asked, seeming genuinely perplexed. "You want me. Now you have me. Yet you would squander the power you have over me." He tilted his head, his mismatched eyes never leaving hers, as he chose his next words carefully. When he finally spoke, the need in his voice made her ache. "Would you have me beg?"
That Jareth would, and Sarah was certain that she only had to say yes, was an intoxicating feeling. It had her bare feet moving forward before she could think better of it. She had told him she wouldn't run. She wouldn't take his pride either.
"How would you undress me?"
"Magic, of course." When she laughed, he smirked as well. "But not in the way you think." He rose from the bed with a predator's grace and stopped before her, lifting his hands as if to cup her face but held off just shy of touching. He searched her eyes, silently daring her to keep going.
Sarah nodded, words failing her.
His hands remained gentle as he rested them against her throat. From there he moved down her shoulders, then her sides and she shivered as under his touch the material of her shirt simply melted away. She couldn't even find the will to be cross over the destruction of her shirt, but then let out a startled laugh when he flicked his wrist and there was her shirt, completely intact and dangling from his finger before he let it fall to the floor.
"Showoff," she grinned.
Jareth didn't deny it, he merely ran his hands back up her sides, pulling her against him in the process. She held her breath as he dipped his head, his feather light hair brushing her flushed cheek as he skimmed his lips across her shoulder. She gasped when he tugged the strap of her bra with his teeth and it fell away in pieces. He leaned away only far enough to press a light kiss to one corner of her lips and then the other. She didn't remember fisting her hands into his shirt, still she clung to him, half afraid she'd topple over as he ruined the remaining bra strap. Then her bra was gone, joining her shirt on the floor, the straps normal once more.
Sarah was sure she could come up with something witty to say if only she could think but Jareth's shirt was made of the softest linen she'd ever felt and it was decadent everywhere it touched her bare skin. She almost hated to have him take it off but she wanted to feel the warmth of his skin so she started untucking the bottom but then it vanished right out of her hands.
She felt his breath puff against her temple as he chuckled. "Better?"
She hummed an affirmative, hissing as his thumbs brushed across her nipples. Her entire body was strung tight like a bow, desire unlike anything she'd ever felt before had her feeling feverish and empty. Somewhere, the reasonable part of her mind knew he was purposely seducing her and using her inexperience to his advantage, but that same part also knew that if she told him to stop he would. Jareth was an unscrupulous bastard but he appreciated that the sweetest part of victory was the surrender. He wouldn't take until he'd convinced her to give. And she was getting something out of this too. The best sex of her life seemed a pretty fair trade for letting him win this round.
Before rational thought ruined the moment, Sarah pulled his head down and crushed her lips to his in a desperate kiss. The groan that ripped from his throat was as almost as sexy as the way he devoured her because he was tongue and teeth, bruising with the force in which he kissed her and it was all she could do to hold onto his shoulders, her nails scoring his pale flesh. Then the wall was at her back and he was hitching her legs around his waist, pressing into her with a rock of his hips.
With an enormous amount of effort, Jareth tore his mouth from hers, panting against her lips. "You're treading on dangerous ground, precious."
"I told you I'm not running anymore."
"So you did," he purred, his voice sin incarnate.
In a blink the rest of their clothing was gone. Honestly, she didn't expect anything less. She'd fantasized about this moment since she realized she had a sex drive. There was no point in waiting and it was almost a relief when he slid against her, coating himself in the evidence of her desire. She groaned and pressed harder, the teasing friction almost painful.
Finally Jareth was moving, slipping inside of her, inch by delicious inch. Caught up in the sensations, she didn't resist when he gripped her wrists tightly, stretching her arms above her head. The shift in position arched her spine and she sighed as he filled her deeper. His mouth found her throat, teeth scraping and the pain was so lovely she jerked her hips.
Sarah could feel the exact second Jareth's restraint collapsed. His hands clenched around her delicate wrists as he growled into her neck and began thrusting his hips hard enough to knock hers into the wall with a muffled thump. The pace he set was ruthless. She cried out, torn between matching his movements and trying to shy away. It was a foreign sensation, strange in the way she fluttered around him, the pleasure peaking every time he hit that certain spot. The sound of skin hitting skin and her ass hitting the wall was as filthy as it was erotic and she was going to have some angry neighbors come tomorrow but even that thought was gone as quickly as it surfaced because her heels were digging into the backs of his thighs trying to pull him deeper, just so he could hit that sweet spot one more time-
Her orgasm hit hard and fast. One second she was teetering on the edge then the next her body was trembling as she gasped and shuddered. She swore could feel Jareth's smile of satisfaction and then he sucked sharply on her poor, tender skin, driving into her once, then twice before his muted grunt filled her ears.
Exquisitely sore and boneless, Sarah let Jareth move them to her bed. She gave herself to the delightful lethargy, curling up into his warmth and savoring the feel of his damp skin as he covered them with her sheet. She wasn't sure if Jareth was a cuddler and she really didn't care. They were going to cuddle and he was just going to have to deal with it. Slinging a leg over his, she tucked her head beneath his chin and sighed happily. She wasn't certain but she thought he might have pressed a kiss to her hair.
Jareth shifted and she clamped her arm around his waist for good measure.
"I'm not leaving," he laughed and for once it lacked the mocking undertone she'd come to expect from his amusement. It was an easy sound, quite charming in its authenticity. It was equally as pleasant as the idle way his fingers were stroking her arm. "It seems you have once again exhausted me."
"Good." It was as eloquent a reply as she could manage at the moment. It was punctuated by a yawn.
"Sleep, Sarah. Rest while you can. I won't be so accommodating tomorrow."
As Jareth began to hum a strange but soothing melody, Sarah's last waking thought was that she kind of hoped he followed through.
A.N.- I did promise sexy times and here it is in all its steamy glory. I don't know if I did Jareth justice this chapter. Let me know what you think.
The poem that is mentioned is "Magic In Your Bones" by Nikita Gill