Night Of A Thousand Deaths

by FangamerBowiextreme

Sarah gets ghosted at a Halloween-themed rave. Typical. What's not typical? Goblins falling from the ceiling and a very fae-miliar foe who won't stop gawking at her tits. Halloween one-shot/potential holiday chronical. Rated M for a reason. *wink*

1. Chapter 1

A/N- here's a disgusting Halloween one-shot I wrote in a fever just now. It's 4 am where I am, so I've skipped my usual 10 rounds of editing. I don't think there's any glaring errors...maybe I'll go back and skim through tomorrow =P Oh, and when I say disgusting, I mean gratuitous, intense, 10k+ words of sheer, unadulterated smut. -influenced by the musings of Kellyn1604. Enjoy.

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Night Of A Thousand Deaths: Samhain

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This place was sketchy.

Like, really sketchy. The kind of over-the-top level suspicious that makes audiences cringe and yell out, "What are you doing?! Don't go in there you idiot!"

But she was an idiot, apparently. A half-cocked idiot standing alone on the side of the street in cat ears and an even more conspicuous trench coat.

She swayed as she reached down and pulled out her phone from one of her platformed combat boots.

"Hey….Rachel?"

"SARAH!"

Sarah winced and pulled the phone away from her ear. Aside from Rachel's ear piercing shriek, the sound was accompanied by a level of drunken jubilation the speaker of her phone was not equipped to handle.

"Jesus—" Sarah said, staggering back after quite nearly losing her balance. "What are you doing? Where even are you?"

A cackle or two echoed from the phone before any actual reply.

"Oh calm your tits. I'm leaving now."

"Wait —You haven't even left yet?!"

Sarah's voice raised with outrage as she turned in a small circle, closing her eyes tightly as she repelled the emotion. Goddammit Rachel...this was just like her..

"Relaaaaxxxxx. I'll be on the expressway in a minute—five—ten minutes tops."

Sarah scowled down at the ground as she pinched the bridge of her nose.

"You said to meet up at nine. This place is creepy as fuck and it's already dark out. What the hell am I supposed to do, wait on the corner in these hooker heels until you show up?"

"Pfft. Hooker heels—"

"Rachel—"

"Chill! I already gave you your ticket, didn't I? Just go in without me. I'll be there in like, twenty minutes."

"Twenty minutes," Sarah repeated, deadpan. "Who's driving you?"

"Jesus, Sarah, you're worse than my mom. I got a cab, alright?"

"Did you?"

"Well….I mean...I'm flagging one down anyway."

"You didn't call ahead?!" Sarah's arms flew up in exasperation and she twirled around dramatically. "Rachel, it's nine pm on freaking Halloween. You're not the only drunk bimbo in need of chauffeuring. It'll be a miracle if you get here before midnight—"

"It'll be fine," Rachel cut her off, her tone carefree and totally ignorant of Sarah's growing vexation. "Look, I just got a cab. Hear that? *click* Opening the door now. I'll be there soon. Just go in and scope the place out for me."

"Yeah, about that…." Sarah said, her head slowly turning upward at the shifty-ass warehouse the address on her ticket had directed her to. She glanced down at the wrinkled piece of paper she still held before continuing. "Are you sure about this place? Where did you say you got these tickets from again? It looks like one of those sets dumb bitches like us go to get murdered."

"The best joints always do," Rachel replied. Sarah snorted. "I told you I won them off the radio, remember? Don't worry. I looked 'em up. This party is s'posed to be super swanky and exclusive. Totally reputable."

Sarah's mouth hung open in distaste as her eyes gradually lifted from the single, iron-barred door in front of her to the (not at all worrying) giant, half-lit sign blinking, in bright neon-red nonetheless, the words "The Gate". She was the only one on the street, and had been since her cab had dropped her off. She was the only thing making any kind of noise —save the high pitched trill of struggling, highly corroded electrical work doing it's damn-well-best to keep that mighty letter A from going under. Well, at least it matched the name on her ticket.

"If you say so…" she mumbled. "I wish you would have told me you were going to be late though. I would have just stayed and hung out at the bar."

"Pffft. Bars are lame," Rachel said, obnoxiously. "I bet there were….three skeevy dudes trying to pinch your ass in that suit and play it off like it's suddenly no biggie because it's Halloween?"

Sarah rolled her eyes.

"Well...you're not wrong—"

"See? It's time we hit up some place a bit more upscale. You're better off sniffing out some real men and getting a couple prime cuts of meat for the two of us instead."

Sarah stared vacantly at a swatch of duct tape that was serving as a windowpane in the facade of this supposedly upscale joint.

"Wow. You should write this stuff down."

Her tone was dead but the implied sarcasm wouldn't have phased Rachel anyway.

"Oh I do," she said, proudly. "I keep a little notebook up my ass n' everything." Sarah shook her head as she grinned. "But seriously, it's going to be great. Enough dilly dallying already. Go get in there before someone really does mistake you for a hooker. I'll be there soon."

Sarah's grin stretched in spite of herself.

"Alright," she said, with a sigh. "Fine. But you better be here soon. Bye."

Sarah snapped her phone shut and shoved it back into her boot —a far more flattering alternative to the usual cleavage— and stared up at that creepy sign once more. It was getting colder out and there was moisture in the air. It condensed on the neon tubing, which turned to beads of light that quickly streamed downward to trickle onto the toe of her shoe.

She sighed once more and looked back at the door. Why the hell were there bars on it? If this place was so swanky, where the hell was the hostess or the line of eager ravers clamoring to get in? This didn't seem right….hm…

Maybe if she wasn't already drunk, she would have listened to her instincts. Oh well.

"The Gate, huh? Doesn't sound so bad…" she mumbled, smoothing out her hair and straightening her ears before reaching for the door. It opened a few inches but was heavier than expected, and actually pulled her forward as it closed itself shut. Sarah huffed, glaring daggers at the thing, then planted her feet and tried again. This time it opened readily, screaming on its hinges in a way that made her suspect it hadn't been opened in quite some time...oh geez.

The door revealed behind it a darkened corridor. Sarah stared down into its depths, scowling intently. Unfortunately, she'd already stepped inside and, by the will of Odin it seemed, the fucking door slammed itself shut again. She jumped from the echo of the rumbling boom! it created, and took a tiny step further inside.

"Goddamn it Rachel...I better not get murdered because of you…"

To make the situation worse, upon the shutting of the door did a string of haphazardly hung icicle lights turn on and illuminate her path. She should have been thankful. But, as she got a gander at the cracked, mildewed wallpaper and dust-crusted cobwebs decorating the space, she thought maybe she would have preferred to wander blindly.

Her footsteps echoed against a concrete floor as she traveled further into what she presumed was hell. That detached sense of concern became fully validated by what the hall eventually let out to.

It started as a glow. A dark, red light that gradually brightened as she drew near. There was a hint of fog in the air, which became more and more dense, and made it hard for her to distinguish what she was seeing.

She swatted at the air as she entered a foyer, curling her lip at the surprising, and distinct, taste of cotton candy that it left on her tongue.

The room was circular, with red padded walls and a mirrored ceiling. The floor had been painted with a black and white spiral, which twisted towards the base of a black desk that stood in the center. There were long bands of pink neon lights rimming the ceiling which, combined with the fog, gave the room a very weighted feeling.

Sarah paused with a look of what the fuck as she peered around the room. There was a woman standing behind the desk. She was dressed as a blue fairy and looked to have been spray painted from head to toe with glitter.

The woman smiled from ear to ear, adjusting her bright red, wing-tipped glasses, and ushered her forward.

"Hello there," she said, in a very light, affectionate tone. Sarah took a step but hesitated.

"Uh…"

"Welcome to The Gate," the woman continued, with an odd enunciation. Sarah wondered if she was an automaton. "Do you have a ticket?"

Sarah turned her head with a very skeptical eye. What the fuck? What the hell was this place? Clutching the throat of her trench coat, Sarah gulped and stepped towards the desk.

"Um...yeah. For the Halloween party, right?" she asked, laying out her crumpled ticket on the counter between them. The woman's toothy smile softened to a grin as she pulled the ticket back.

"Of course," she replied, then loudly stamped a big red VOID onto the ticket. Sarah tried not to fidget as she waited.

Beyond the desk Sarah spied on a curtain made of red ribbons, either side of which being guarded by what she presumed were some very over-zealous bouncers. They were dressed in all black and stood like statues.

"So um...what kind of place is this, exactly?" she asked. The woman looked up from her desk and smiled once more.

"The fun kind," she said, eerily. Sarah inwardly cringed. Oh, because that's not a red flag or anything… "How old are you?"

Sarah twitched and blinked dumbly.

"Huh?"

The woman, with long glittered lashes, blinked at her slowly as she tilted her head.

"Your age," she clarified, then held up a black permanent marker. "Are you over twenty-one? Otherwise I'll need to mark your hand."

"Oh. Yes. I am," Sarah awkwardly responded. Wow. She hadn't been asked that in a while. The woman set the marker down.

"That's excellent. I'll just need to see some ID."

"Right. Hold on—" Sarah said as she, very ungracefully, bent down to pull her driver's license out of her other boot. "Here ya go," she said, offering it to the hostess and waiting an awkward 17 seconds while she very closely inspected it.

"Very good, Miss Williams. Now, would you mind removing your coat?"

Once again, Sarah just blinked. Damn. Did she pregame too hard? Why the hell was she reacting so slowly?

"Um...why?" she countered.

"This is a costumed event. I need to verify you are properly attired, or else I cannot let you in," the hostess explained.

"Oh. Gotcha," Sarah replied, promptly unbuttoning her trench. Being alone and awkward made her surprisingly self-conscious once removing her coat, or maybe it was because of the way this perky little receptionist was leaning over her counter to inspect her with a very...discernable level of interest.

"Hm...now that's fun," she said, pushing her glasses up the bridge of her nose as she leaned back onto her stool. Sarah's eyes darted from left to right.

"Thanks…"

"Would you like to check your coat before you enter?"

"Uh...sure?"

By the time Sarah could inflect a question, the woman lifted a hand and gestured towards the side. Sarah's attention followed reflexively, and she gave a little jolt to find there was another dark-clothed man now standing directly beside her.

She stared up at him meekly while offering him her coat, wondering (but not asking) where and how she would go about getting it back.

"Thank you for your patience, Miss Williams," the hostess said, with that same cheerfully sterile tone. Sarah glanced back worriedly. "You may head on through now. Please, enjoy yourself. And welcome to The Gate."

The woman turned with a raised hand towards the exit behind her, though Sarah wasn't exactly feeling welcomed. She thought about backpedaling and cursing Rachel the whole way home, but the allure of what could possibly be behind those ribbons was having its way with her.

It was apt that she'd dressed as a cat. Curiosity had always been her downfall.

She left the desk fairy behind and passed through the archway. The guards beside her were unresponsive. The one who'd taken her coat now nowhere to be found. Which was strange considering...there were no other doors.

But, before she could ponder that impossibility, her inebriated self pushed forward into the abyss.

She was in another hallway. Although this one was wider and far more reassuring. It boasted a black and white tiled floor and the same pink lighting from the foyer. The walls were speckled with mirrors of various sizes and shapes and, as Sarah passed them by, she caught herself thinking that neon pink was a very good look on her.

At the end of the hall were a set of padded doors. She could feel a vibration coming from beyond them —the faint humming of music and chatter. The latch clicked loudly as she turned it and, feeling a lot like Alice about to plummet down the rabbit hole, opened herself up to any such ludicrous possibility.

To both her relief and odd dismay, the place she entered next was not filled with a cluster fuck of time and space. At least, not literally.

The padding on the door and the walls had done their job well, as the moment to door inched open Sarah was hit with a deafening wave of sound. Music. Thrumming base. Loud and relentlessly uptempo. It sounded like techno, something familiar and evocative. The tremor of the base coursed through the floor and up her toes, inciting excitement as she stepped across the threshold and into the fray.

It was a rave. A typical, if not completely deranged, rave. Sarah sighed at the sight of it.

This room was also round, with a step or two in front of her leading down into the dance pit. It was absolutely filled with bodies. Filled with glittering, sweating, phosphorescent, highly animated bodies grooving and gyrating with one another. From here, Sarah determined the source of the fog —a river of clouds tumbling from smoke machines on either side of a DJ booth directly across from her on the far side of the room. The fog dissipated as it lifted into the air, creating a blanket over the dancers whose forms were rendered wet and silhouetted. Against the walls and rafters in the ceiling were a variety of different colored lights, each shifting between rainbow tones in time with the music. An array of bright green lasers fanned the pit, artifacting through the fog and dancers in a dazzling reflection of the energy below.

To the right she spied a bar, lit by pale blue neon and lined in mirrors. To the left was a stairwell, currently sectioned off, which led to a loft overlooking the dance floor.

Sarah felt her pulse quickening as she took at all in. This looked legit. Huh. Maybe Rachel was right after all.

With a sway in her hips, Sarah stepped down into the crowd. There were booths set up along the rim of the dance floor, many of their occupants dazed and weary. She saw many empty glasses and puddles of spilled drinks, the hands that once held them too distracted with the groping of thighs, and the mouths that once sipped from them now more delighted by the taste of a stranger's tongue. She heard a sharp sniff and peered over at a man in a pirate hat snorting something off the tabletop while a pair of women, both dressed as naughty nurses, watched eagerly. Sarah arched a brow as she passed by many such scenarios, remarking on the way none of them were even slightly concerned with being discreet. Hm, so it was that kind of place eh? The fun kind. Seemed the fun had started without her. And here she'd thought nine was too early to go clubbing.

After getting a good look around the place, Sarah stopped and debated her next move. Heading to the bar was probably a safe bet. She should be able to spot Rachel pretty easily from over there—

She glanced back reflexively when her shoulder was very firmly tapped.

"Excuse me, would you like a sample?"

Sarah turned around to find herself accosted by a very perky female zombie. She flaunted bouncy, curly pigtails flicked with dye of blue and green, and a pushup bra that was definitely giving her its money's worth. She held a tray of pink, plastic drink cups balanced on one hand, and smiled at her very widely. Sarah's eyes flickered from the glow the blacklight had given her teeth, down to the samples in question and back up again. Then her brow quirked skeptically.

"Um, what is it?" she asked.

"Jungle juice. House specialty."

Sarah's eyes narrowed on instinct.

"Yeah...rave one-oh-one: never drink the punch," she said. The waitress frowned but, before she could respond, a pair and stumbling honeybees thrust themselves between them.

"Oh yay! We found her! More punch!" one girl exclaimed, fiercely grabbing hold of two cups for herself before looking over at Sarah with a lazy grin. "I hear ya sister, I was a little skeptical too. I mean, you just never know what they put in this stuff. I got the lowdown from the bartender though. Definitely safe. Promise. You gotta try it. It's fucking uh-may-zing," she said and then forced one of her cups into Sarah's grasp. The drink splashed all over her hands, which made both busy bees go oops! and giggle. Then they both ducked and turned away, nearly tripping over each other as they hobbled —their springy pom-pom feelers bouncing wildly all the while. Sarah watched them for a moment before inspecting the glowy, pink liquid in her now nearly empty cup.

"Well, there's some marketing for you. They had me at fucking," she said and, because she really didn't care at this point, shot the whole thing. She drew back as it glided over her tongue, as the flavor —sweeter than sugar— sent her whole mouth a-tingling. It was crisp, like melted candy but cold as ice. ...Fuck.

Sarah just stared into her cup. What the hell kind of punch….?

The woman holding the tray stared at Sarah very excitedly, licking her lips as her smile gained new life.

"Good, isn't it?" she asked. Sarah glanced over. "Would you like another?"

---

Before she knew it, Sarah found herself carrying around her third free sample. It was difficult to explain. It was delicious, yes, but something else too. Every sip she took made her want to take another. She never made it to the bar, instead entranced by the light show and various costumed ghouls she saw prancing about. The colors looked brighter somehow. The fog...moving slower. She felt a little concerned when a heat started building in her eyes, and from that had very little doubt that this drink was laced with something. ...oh well.

There were platforms stationed in various places throughout the dance pit, and Sarah mindlessly watched the painted gogo dancers provocatively flaunting themselves atop them. They wore brightly colored fur boots and bedazzled lingerie. All donned pointed ears just like her own, so she assumed they were kinky kittens like her too. Geez, it was amazing what passed for a costume these days.

To keep things festive, Sarah noted the oddly placed decoration here or there. There were artificial cobwebs stretched between rafters and other useless negative spaces, where large, glittery spiders with light up eyes watched her. There were a few over-the-top figures of grim reapers and menacing pumpkin-heads erected a good twelve feet tall, overlooking the passersby. On the tables, tossed on the floor, and hanging all along the half-wall that formed the dance pit, were stuffed cryptids and critters, furry, and all expressing the same lifeless grin. A few of the dancers had taken to tossing such toys, their round little silhouettes bouncing back and forth over the crowd like balloons.

They reminded her of something...goblins.

It was as the very thought formed that she swore she saw one of them twitch. Sarah blinked rapidly and readjusted her focus. What the fuck? Her mind must be paying tricks on her. ...She took another drink.

The music coursed through her in low tones that made her feet feel as though they were melting into the floor...and then another goblin moved.

Sarah took a step back and glared sharply to the side. Now that time she knew she'd seen something. And not just a twitch. A scurry. She scoured the crowd for wherever the hell it'd run off to.

Her eyes strained as she compulsively took another sip.

Cackling.

Sarah whipped her head around as the all too familiar, and dreadful, sound of goblin laughter resound from behind her. She looked all around, but there was nothing. The scene was just too busy. There was too much to see.

Feeling her heart starting to pound, Sarah pressed a hand down the side of her face and moved to a different part of the room. She was hallucinating. She had to be. There was no fucking way that…

There were goblins. Everywhere.

Sarah stood in the middle of the dance floor, shoulder to shoulder with things that weren't always human. The decorations which she'd mused had been watching her, now actually were. Dozens of creeping goblins hung on ropes and swung from the rafters as the truth of her surroundings unveiled itself. They giggled with wicked glee, taking some sort of weird satisfaction from simply watching the revelry below. Sarah licked her lips and clenched her cup in her hand. For some reason, she was still drinking it.

The heat in her eyes escalated, and now some of the faces near her were blurring. Was she just that drunk? Was she having a bad trip? No...no she definitely wasn't high. Something else was happening. Something—

A blurred face passed by her, and as she stared it came into focus. What she saw didn't make sense. Pointed ears. Real pointed ears. And markings around their eyes that—

Oh god.

Fuck no.

In a panic, Sarah pushed her way out of the crowd. She couldn't believe it. A part of her still didn't. But it was too much. There was no way this was possible. That she was...surrounded by fae.

In a panic, she reached down and pulled out her phone, quickly dialing Rachel.

"Hey—Rach?" Sarah yelled, pressing a finger into one ear to hear better.

"Sarah! Hey I was just about to call you!" Rachel yelled back. Sarah turned around in circles as she cautiously made her way towards the edge of the crowd.

"Rachel, where are you? I gotta tell you—"

"Huh? Sarah I can't hear you, the music is too loud. But hey, listen, I think I'm gonna have to bail tonight—"

"What? Why? What happened?"

"Nothing happened!" Rachel yelled reassuringly. "But I think you were right. Traffic is brutal right now. The expressway is backed up for miles. I don't think I'll be able to get there any time soon—"

"What? Good. No, no, that's okay. Just turn around when you can and go home. This place is a bust anyway." She tried to sound nonchalant but there was a waver in her voice. She felt like eyes were starting to fall on her. To notice her noticing them...

"Really? Are you serious? What the fuck. That place was supposed to be awesome!" Rachel replied.

"Yeah. I told you the building looked sketchy. Listen, I'm gonna leave soon. I'll take the train and meet you back at your place. Alright? This place is definitely...some kind of trap."

No sooner was that final word uttered did the music stop, did all sounds stop. Sarah looked up, pitifully clutching the phone to her ear as half the crowd turned and shot glares straight at her.

Oh. Fuck.

"Alright. I'll call you when I get off of here. We can still watch movies and get fat or something. See you soon!"

Rachel hung up before she could respond, but Sarah had already left the conversation. Her attention, entirely, was focused on the faerie beings whom she'd apparently triggered. Shit. So much for sneaking her way out—

"A trap, is it? My, you would say something so...banal."

Sarah, cringing as a voice at her back sent her reeling to a time she loathed to remember, forced herself to stand as tall as possible as she clicked her phone shut and turned around to face it.

Their eyes locked. His brightened. She paled.

"How did you even get in here?" Jareth asked, a hint of derision curling an otherwise highly amused grin.

Sarah gulped. Fucking fuck. Seriously? How the hell? No. No that didn't matter. What mattered was why. Why the fuck was he here? What did he want? What was he planning?

"I had a ticket," Sarah answered, defensively. Jareth huffed with laughter, angling his head to one side as he raked his eyes over her from ear to toe.

"Of course you did," he said. His hair was pulled back, smoothed into a long ponytail that draped over one shoulder. He reached up and sifted a hand through it in a provocative gesture as he spoke. Sarah tried not to lick her lips, suddenly nervous for reasons she'd never expected. He looked different from how she remembered. In...a multitude of ways.

Despite the messy bangs that framed his face, his current look lacked all traces of the 80s glam she'd anticipated. He wore surprisingly modern black slacks and a white dress shirt, unbuttoned in the chest to reveal an inviting shadow of pectoral muscle. There were hints of his usual style in the red velvet vest and high collared dress coat he wore over it, but all in all she was thrown. He looked more like a Bram Stoker dandy than a Goblin King. But then again, it had been twelve years since they'd last seen each other. A little change was to be expected.

Jareth caught the way she was regarding him and let her have her fill, taking the moment to do the same. She'd become quite voluptuous in their years apart, such delectable curves incapable of being ignored by the accent of the skin-tight, all-too-revealing, latex bodysuit she presently wore. The ambient light painted her blue, with sharp white highlights reflecting off her breasts and hips. Her thighs were exposed, their shape fractured by the lines of garters which clipped onto sheer black stockings. Keeping her all together was a painfully strained zipper leading up the front, naturally (and by now regretfully), unzipped just enough to provide, for his viewing satisfaction, a very invasive amount of cleavage. The last thing he spied was a complementary headband erecting a pair of fuzzy little ears atop her head. Hm. Cute.

He took a step towards her and cocked a brow at her. "As delightful as it is seeing you again, and in such an erotic ensemble nonetheless, please tell me you're not here to ruin another one of my parties?"

Sarah's eyes darted, glancing around at all of the surrounding fae still staring at her in quiet impatience. The humans clinging to them had become dazed, idling it seemed, until the party was fit to resume.

Sarah, doing her best to recover from his ambush, puffed up her chest and stared him square in the eye.

"That depends...on what it is you've got going on here," she said, warily, just now realizing it was stupid of her to have closed her phone. It was probably too late to dial 911…

Jareth glanced around the room and shrugged.

"What does it look like?" he asked, then dared to come closer still. Sarah angled her feet away on instinct but held her ground. His footsteps resounded far too loudly against the tiled floor, only reminding her of just how precarious her situation had become. The sudden silence of the room left a ringing in her ears, a kind of vacuum she half-hoped might actually suck her away to someplace, any place, else. Oh, if only.

"It looks like...you're having your way with unsuspecting humans," she said. He stood mere inches from her now, looking downward and most definitely into her cleavage. Sarah crossed her arms to cover herself up, fiercely regretting her choice of attire.

"Well, I'm certainly not."

His eyes on hers were daring and had far too much fun with her. Sarah felt a near tangible tingle radiate in the space between them because of it. He smelled good. He looked good. This was bad. She was way too fucking drunk for this.

"What's the level of consent here, exactly? What have you done to these people?"

Jareth's wry grin steeled in place. That couldn't be good.

"We do nothing they do not want. That is kind of the point of these things," he said, and subtly gestured towards the more darkened corners of the room. Sarah turned and inspected them closely. The humans were indeed under some kind of influence, but...so were the fae. They all had a glazed-over look in their eye and, the longer Sarah kept them abstained, the more uncomfortable she realized all of them were becoming. The energy of the room felt restless. Charged. Sarah had no idea what to make of it.

"I don't understand…you can't tell me they're not under some spell."

She went on edge when he started laughing again. Even more so when he raised a hand and snapped his fingers. In an instant the music resumed, and the ravers forgot all about her.

The revelry picked up like it had never stopped, and suddenly she was surrounded yet alone under Jareth's indiscernible scrutiny. He never answered her question, so she posed another.

"What's going on Jareth? Why are you and your people here?"

"Why so serious, love?" he asked, facetiously, and began to pace around her. "We're entertaining. Obviously."

"I don't understand—"

"A heroine like you wouldn't," Jareth interrupted, with some admonishment. Sarah glared back at him sharply.

"Excuse me?"

She flinched back after realizing just how close he'd come, her brow twisting in perplexion when he sniffed her hair before pulling back.

"What are you supposed to be, exactly?" he asked, changing directions. "The invitations were supposed to say costume party, not sex dungeon," he added, plucking at one of her curled locks as he prowled behind her back. Sarah shivered from the sensation and stood more stiffly. "Not that I'm complaining. The years have been more than kind to you." He released her curl to lightly brush his hand against her lower back as he made his way around her. Sarah ignored the obvious incitement...as best she could anyway. "The latex is unexpected though. And the garters...and the boots. It took me a minute to recognize you."

Sarah's crossed arms tightened even more, the material hugging her limbs crinkling from the motion.

"I could say the same. What are you supposed to be? A vampire?" she spoke haughtily but it did not phase him. He merely shrugged and lifted his hands.

"I hear they're making a comeback," he said, and nodded upward at her ears. "So?"

Sarah scowled as she looked away.

"I'm a cat. Geez," she said, petulantly.

"Ah. Of course," he replied, in a much cooler tone, then conspicuously leaned around her. "I see the ears but...wherever is your tail?"

Sarah shifted her stance, now hating how much of her ass her outfit exposed.

"Right here," she said, then grasped a prop latched to her hip. Jareth's eyes flickered down, and a brow arched yet again.

"That's a whip," he pointed out. Sarah arched a brow right back.

"Exactly."

Their eyes locked in an unnamed challenge, the provocation of which created a tick in Jareth's ghostly grin. It stretched on one side, devilishly.

"How adorable."

"Are you going to tell me what the hell this all is?" Sarah snapped. Her fingers curled into her biceps and a hip jutted to the side. Jareth's eyes couldn't help but trace that curve. "Can these people see the goblins? Do they even know what you are?"

Jareth took his time in responding, quite clearly distracted by her figure.

"No. Just you."

"How? I couldn't see them when I first got here."

With a tiny sigh, Jareth withdrew his attention from her outfit and met her in the eye.

"You drank the punch," he said, ominously, then tisked a finger at her. "Don't you know you should never drink the punch?"

Sarah scoffed and rolled her eyes.

"Cut to the chase, Jareth."

"Gods you're boring," he said, rolling his own eyes. Sarah felt herself puffing up again. "You are also a Champion. Immune to fae magics," he continued, and wiggled a finger at her. "A defense which I assume was activated after imbibing our liquor. It's what allowed you to break through the glamour. Congratulations." He sounded exceedingly lackluster, which was fine by her. Sarah's arms uncrossed as she inspected her empty cup.

"What? Glamour? So this drink—"

"Oh relax. It's harmless," Jareth said, dismissively. Sarah scowled again.

"It's an enchantment. You drugged them all and are coercing them into...into your sick debauchery. That's hardly harmless," she said, disdainfully. Jareth huffed and crossed his arms.

"Says the woman dressed as a dominatrix." He was smiling but Sarah didn't see what was so funny. After a moment of enduring her glare, Jareth broke the tension by stepping around her and grasping her by the shoulders. "So tense," he said, laughing at the way her body froze under his touch. "Perhaps you should have another drink." She made a distasteful tch sound and kept her face angled strictly away from him. While such attitude was enough to kill even the most persistent buzz, presently Jareth found such aversion to be very entertaining. He stroked the tip of a finger over her ear, brushing back her hair, just to provoke her even further as he said, "lay down your whip, little kitten, there is no coercion happening here."

There was something pacifying in his voice, maybe because it came so low and so close to her ear. It rumbled in sync with the music and Sarah…

"The drink does carry an enchantment," Jareth continued, moving away to take his original place in front of her. "—but there is no compulsion. The only benefit is to those who drink it." She stared at him confusedly, so he explained. "It merely...allows us better access to those deepest pleasures one may feel...hesitant to otherwise express."

Sarah's eyes narrowed suspiciously before glancing around the room. The party was going just as hard as when she'd arrived, though was no more out of control despite the presence of goblins. Those who were not out of breath on the dance floor were laughing in booths. Everyone looked to be enjoying themselves...immensely.

"So...it's laced with magic ecstasy?" Sarah asked, with a wince. Jareth's grin widened impulsively.

"Now you're getting it."

"But…" she muttered, confused and in denial that this might actually be a legitimate party. Her brow knitted very tightly as she said, "Those stupors...a lot of those people have no idea what's going on—"

"And?" Jareth cut her off, impatiently. He looked rather stern when they crossed gazes. "It's an open bar. What do you expect?"

"Then why hide the goblins? Why hide your true faces?"

Gods, she really wasn't backing down from this, was she? It took all of Jareth's self control not to groan.

"Because there is a lot of recreational drug use happening around you, love. Just like you, I cannot stop goblins from crashing this event. But, unlike you, most of your kind tend to balk when confronted with the actual supernatural, and inciting terror trips seems a bit counterproductive, wouldn't you say?" Sarah did not respond. Only stared with those large, intensely lined eyes. Realizing he may have sounded a little impatient, he inhaled slowly before continuing. "I know it's in your nature, but please try to lower that self-righteous bias from your eyes. There is nothing nefarious happening here. Just good, old-fashioned comradery."

"You mean magic-opioid driven sex fest."

Her stare was unwavering but the tone of her voice was noticeably more passive. Jareth's lips twitched as he replied, "As I said, old-fashioned."

His eyes moved up and down her once more, analyzing her defensive posture in contrast to the fact that she had yet to call in the banners. Perhaps she was more curious than she cared to admit? Perhaps he should call her bluff.

He angled himself away from her but stared, very shrewdly, out of the corner of his eye.

"You're more than welcome to leave you know...or stay," he said, then casually flagged over a waiter and took up a glass he was offered. "The more the merrier, as it were. Samhain is really an auspicious night for both our species. Past adversity aside, I welcome you to the fray." He downed a shot of whiskey and turned his back fully. He took a step away from her. Just one.

"Why is it auspicious?" she asked. Jareth's grin etched into the shadows covering his face. Oh, a curious kitten indeed. When he turned back around, such deviousness was well concealed.

"Surely you know?" he asked, mockingly. "Surely one who has traversed in alternate realms and dabbled in precarious magics has done her research on something as mainstream as Samhain?"

He spoke with an air of pretension that transcended any amount of time or changing fashion trend and rendered him completely, one hundred percent recognizable. Sarah narrowed her eyes as the image of his smug grin melded with a memory, and inhaled slowly through her nose.

"Humor me."

Oh, such conviction. Such a hardened expression crafted specifically for him. If it weren't for the way her breasts lifted on that frustrated inhale, he might have had a more antagonistic reaction to it.

"The Gate," he said, and pointed at a neon sign high on a wall stating such. "Or the veil, I should say. The barrier that separates our two worlds? It thins on the night of Samhain. As you've experienced, ordinarily my kind must be summoned and a contract formed in order to appear on this plane. But, on this night —and only this night— we may pass freely to and fro." He wove a hand back and forth in a very fluid motion. Sarah's eyes couldn't help but fixate. There was something familiar there. "We choose to celebrate this metaphysical unbridling by...well, physically unbridling...each other."

Sarah cringed a little at his choice of words, having been able to paint herself a picture well enough without said imagery. But still, when compared to the events taking place behind her, he wasn't speaking with much analogy.

"So it's a human-faerie free for all? Just...partying and fucking until the sun comes up?" she asked. The shift in Jareth's expression let her know he was now laughing at her.

"So caught up on the fucking, Sarah dear. Heavy petting I will concur, but where do you see any such depravity? Perhaps that outfit is a cry for help. Is there something on your mind?" he asked. If the ambient light wasn't fading from green to purple, he would have seen her blush. Sarah's chest puffed up in offense and she growled a little.

"And after tonight? What happens then?" she asked, refusing to dignify him with a response. Jareth's grin humbled. She was being very thorough. Did that mean she was planning to stay?

"We go back to our world," he said. Sarah looked over.

"That's it?"

"That's it."

"And the humans?"

Jareth shrugged and crossed his arms. He was starting to get a little bored now.

"Hopefully they are left fully satiated until the same time next year. Why are you so suspicious? Have I ever lied to you?"

An unexpected and unwelcome flare of angst accompanied that question, though who it belonged to was anyone's guess. Sarah opened her mouth but didn't respond right away. This was the first time they'd crossed paths in over a decade. The first opportunity they'd been given confront what happened between them—

"No…" she mumbled, feeling suddenly insecure with the way she was regarding him. She'd challenged him just now unquestioningly —as his equal— with complete disregard to who and what he was. There was a sense of intimacy poised in that. And, apparently, from the way he was also regarding her, he'd noticed it too.

"Well then?" he asked, his voice lowered but still guarded. "Do what you want. I really don't care. Just try not to be a spoilsport for everyone else, eh? Most of these people paid good money to be here."

"Wait, you charged for this?" she asked. Jareth, on the precipice of leaving, paused and raised a brow at her. "Why the hell do you need Aboveground money?"

"To rent the venue of course," he said, with a scoff. "To pay for the gratuitous amount of alcohol you see being passed around you and a very generous amount of liability insurance. You didn't think I sprung this up without gaining the proper permits, did you?"

Sarah stared at him like he'd just spoken in tongues. Well, that was not something she expected to hear. Picking up on her confusion, he huffed in amusement and inclined his head towards her.

"So what will it be, pretty kitty? Will you run? Or be dared to stay? Don't tell me you're not just a little bit curious. You've certainly dressed the part."

Sarah stared as indecision left her incapable of responding. She looked flustered. A little flushed. Definitely glassy-eyed. Together it painted a picture he could not help but take enjoyment from. She'd had how many drinks and was still able to confront him so coherently? Good for her, he thought.

Still, this was getting redundant and he had better things to do. He caught the hip of a passing fairy and pulled her to his side.

"Have fun, kitten. I know I will."

The teeny blonde fairy giggled when he reached up and pinched her chin, and it was a show of lechery that had Sarah sneering. He turned and left her after that, with a wide grin kept solely on his arm piece.

Sarah glared. She didn't know why she was glaring, but she was suddenly pissed. She turned around sharply and flipped open her phone.

Rachel's line rang twice then went to voicemail.

"Hey, it's me. Sorry to do this but I'm going to hang out here a little longer. I'll make it up to you next time. Don't wait up."

*Click*

Sarah stared at the blackened screen of her phone for a time that felt far longer than it was. This was probably a mistake. She knew she was going to regret this. But... what's done is done, and all that. She'd taken his bait, and now staying was a matter of pride. Or...maybe that was just the alcohol talking.

Still, she was The Champion. Leaving would be a show of cowardice. Proof that he was somehow better than her. And besides, she had to pay over twenty bucks in cab fare just to get there, so there was no way in hell she wasn't going to get her money's worth out of that open bar.

And, because the devil on her shoulder was probably a goblin like all the rest of them, it was at that exact moment she heard the chipper words, "free sample?"

---

Despite her conviction, Sarah found it difficult to cut loose in present company. It wasn't the myriad fae that put her off, oddly enough. Under blacklights and glitter, even the most grotesque fae face was rendered indistinguishable from the just as grotesque masks and prosthetics of their human counterparts. No, it was only one fae in particular that was keeping her so on edge. And the damn bastard was having a fucking blast.

She had not the slightest fucking clue why she was feeling so possessive. Maybe she was just arrogant, thinking that their shared history granted her a special seat in his lap. Nevermind the fact that he obviously hadn't thought of her once since then. But oh, how she seethed. How she wanted so badly to slap away the look on his face as he fiddled and poked at that stupid blonde woman.

They were standing at the bar, chatting away like it was the most natural thing in the world. Was he flaunting himself on purpose? What? What the fuck was she even thinking? Of course he wasn't! Why did she even care?!

She crushed her solo cup and tossed it in a trashcan. She'd drank a lot in the twenty minutes since he'd left her. She was starting to feel a little wobbly. Damnit.

Needing to prove to herself she really was a strong, independent woman, she strutted herself straight onto the dance floor.

The DJ shifted to a new beat, something lower and slower with a strong base —exactly what she wanted.

She turned around and searched her immediate vicinity, then tapped on the shoulder of a very tall, very broad, fae man dressed as a huntsman.

"Wanna dance?" she asked, and placed a suggestive hand to his chest. The man grinned and stepped towards her, taking her by the hips as she started to move.

Before long the mood and the booze caught up with her, and all too suddenly she'd completely forgotten about King What'sHisFace and his stupid fairy fuckhead. She closed her eyes as she moved to the music, pressing back against a body that may or may not have been the one she'd started with.

Hands held her by the ribs and turned her around. A leg pressed against her groin which she ground herself against. Another hand grasped her by the back of the head and angled her away as hot lips sucked on her neck.

She pressed her hands against a hardened chest and pushed herself off of him. Her vision was a little blurry, but the look she conveyed was intense and predatory. She took another step away from him and tossed her hair back. It was getting hot. She could feel the skin beneath her latex starting to sweat.

She dipped low, flaunting her ass as she churned her hips back up. Her hands traced her torso, moving up into her hair as her entire body ebbed and flowed to the rhythm.

She wasn't paying attention. Didn't realize she had forgone her dance partner and was proving herself more evocative than the otherworldly gogo dancers.

When she opened her eyes, she realized she was being watched, being devoured by hungry eyes of both races. The attention empowered her. Emboldened her. Of course they would watch her. Why wouldn't they? She was The Champion, after all. She bent down one more time, glancing back as she rose and loving the way the light reflected sharply off her ass. She turned around, looked up, and, as if she'd damn well planned it that way, saw that even he was watching her as well.

She gave Jareth a very wanton smile as she glanced away.

Not wanting to disrupt the moment, she let her gaze fall anywhere but near him. He was a ways away, a good 30 feet, so it was possible she'd been wrong —but oh how it thrilled her. She stepped up her game then, employing everything MTV and high school semi-formals had taught her.

She pretended to entertain a couple strangers who strayed too close, but after a few minutes couldn't help but look back again. This time their eyes definitely crossed. And this time it lingered. He was still at the bar, leaning against it and talking, distractedly, to his fairy friend and her new redheaded cohort. She saw his eyes dart over, trying to keep up with what they were saying, but quickly found their way back to her.

The satisfaction watching that gave her could not be accurately described.

Feeling there was much unfinished business, Sarah dragged a hand from her neck down her breast as she said, "See something you like?"

She spoke in barely a whisper, which was of course the true challenge. She watched as a little tick in his ear had him turning blatantly towards her. He put down his drink and stepped away from the bar, ignoring the women whose hands were still latched onto his arm. He pulled himself free, took another step, and then vanished.

Sarah did well not to jump when she suddenly felt his breath on her ear.

"Do you think it wise to taunt me?" he asked, so low and smooth. Sarah licked her lips, eyes glued to the mirrored looks of confusion on the women's faces as they stared over at them. In a show of confidence, she rolled her hips back just enough to brush her ass against his pelvis.

"Who's taunting?" she asked, dropping low to the floor and slowly bending back up again. "I simply asked a question, in a whisper, behind deafening music and the chatter of a hundred or so people. You're the one who's fancy fae ears were so focused you heard me despite it." She glanced back from her peripheral with a sharpness equal to his own. Jareth's eyes darkened.

"You've grown bold in your old age. Are you sure this is a game you want to play?" he asked. He was still standing behind her, taking in the sweet smell of her sweat and the remnant perfume she'd arrived with. When her back straightened, she staggered, falling against him before catching herself. Jareth's hands clutched her by the shoulders on instinct, though now they were reluctant to let go. He leaned down to whisper into her ear, "I think you might be drunk, darling. I'm surprised. I would have thought you more wise than to let down your guard in a faerie's den." If there was actual warning posed in that, it was too delicious for Sarah to heed. She allowed him to hold her, secretly riveted by the dominance it conveyed.

"Joke's on you, Goblin King," she said, and turned around to face him. "I was drunk when I got here."

She gave him a salacious curl of the lips as she lightly pressed off of his chest and took a step back. Being so close, she'd caught a good glimpse of his eyes, alight and mismatched, and rimmed in blood red liner. He looked a little menacing under the lasers, under the —now darkened— red hue glazing the dance floor.

She started dancing again, teasingly, and just for him. She showed him her ass and her tits and the curve of her hips. She rolled her neck and stretched her arms to the ceiling. How dare he underestimate her, she thought. As if, even at her most compromised, she couldn't handle him.

"But what's with all the questions?" she called back, glancing over her shoulder with a one-sided grin. "Sounds to me like you're stalling."

She kept her eyes locked on his, conveying a challenge she thought so grand she hoped even the hostess in the foyer would gasp in anticipation. Jareth's stare on her was unreadable, and then he slowly tilted his head to one side.

"Come here," he commanded, softly. Sarah held her head high as she moved her body towards him. That bravado shattered on a gasp of her own when he suddenly reached around her waist and yanked her flat against him. "You should be very careful, little kitten. You're not the only one who's been imbibing tonight," he warned, pressing a wide hand down her side to grope at her ass. The gesture had her pressing into him instinctively, their bodies slowly swaying in time. His eyes lowered to her mouth before continuing. "I may not be quite the gentleman you remember."

Sarah stared up at him, her face hot and her mouth dry. The air of impulse compelling her grew exponentially despite his repeated warnings, and had her fingers curling into his shirt with constraint. She lifted her leg a little, encouraging the hand he kept on her ass to grasp even lower, and leaned up on her toes to whisper, just a hair's breadth from his lips, "Prove it."

She swallowed anything that might resemble nerves and leaned away from him, trailing a delicate finger to the zipper at her cleavage and making sure his gaze was good and distracted. "And by the way? If you haven't yet noticed, nothing about me is little," she added and slowly lowered the zipper. A new sense of conviction flared in the way he stared at her and, in a moment of contentment, she turned away from him and went back to dancing. Oh, she was being ballsy. Ballsy with the freaking King of Goblins. She was going to be screaming at herself in the morning. Probably.

Jareth's eyes lowered to her ass for a long second, before calling her bluff and yanking her back flush against him.

He grabbed both hips and kept their bodies conjoined as he followed her lead, moving with a fluidity that actually surprised her. She tested him, lowered towards the floor, and he successfully lowered with her. She felt one of his hands leave her hip to pull back the hair from her neck, and then grazed his nose against the exposed skin. The feeling of his breath made her shiver, and left her entirely unprepared for what happened next.

She bent her knees even more, lowering, and pressed back against his groin. She could feel his hardening erection against her ass, and stifled an excited murmur. His other hand lowered to grasp the inside of her thigh as they moved and, as they straightened together, felt that hand pull up and lightly graze two fingers very deliberately over her sex. Distracted by his lips on her neck, she couldn't stop herself from gasping. And the sound, so light and feminine, had him humming with satisfaction. His hands went back to her hips, rolling them with precision, before traveling upward to grope at her breasts.

Sarah's eyes opened as she struggled for clarity, staring out at the crowd as she plotted her next move. One of his hands stayed on her breast while the other continued upwards, encircling her neck and angling her head sharply towards the ceiling. The hand at her breast curled around the collar of her suit and pulled —just enough to expose a bit of shoulder which he forcefully nipped.

"You keep surprising me, Oh Champion, My Champion. Tell me, what will you do next?"

Sarah breathed heavily as the hand holding her neck pressed firmly against her carotid. She wetted her lips and angled herself towards him as best she could.

"You go from reluctant to cocky just like that, eh?" she asked, glaring at him sharply from her peripheral as she reached behind herself and grasped his cock. He flinched and groaned, the look in his eyes turning dangerous. "When are you going to learn to stop underestimating me?" And she stroked him, moved her hand firmly from root to head over his pants as she swayed herself against him. Their eyes remained locked. She could see a shade lowering over his, a confirmed sense of lust she'd been waiting for. "Tonight is a free for all, right? Old-fashioned comradery with no strings attached?"

The corners of Jareth's mouth curled, but he wasn't quite capable of verbally responding. She had a very commanding hold on him. It was making it hard to focus. He nodded instead.

"So tell me, are there any other Labyrinth Champions here?"

She angled her wrist in a way that nearly sent his knees buckling. He closed his eyes to compose himself.

"No."

"And are there any other Goblin Kings?"

Anticipating where this was going, Jareth grinned on a strained breath.

"No."

"Well then. Who better suited to entertain each other on this auspicious night?"

Jareth released her neck and grabbed both hips, bring their dancing to a halt as he closed his eyes and pressed his brow into her shoulder—

"Absolutely...no one."

There was tension in his voice as he gave in to her ministrations. They stood together, in the middle of the crowd, back to front while she stealthily jerked him off. She could feel his breathing getting heavier. They were going to need to change it up soon…

She glanced towards the upper level and tilted her head.

"What's upstairs?" she asked. Jareth forced his way back to attention and followed her gaze.

"Private suites. Reserved for later —when things get a little more...messy."

"Later?" Sarah repeated, suggestively, then slowly turned around to face him. Her fingers laced through the belt loops on his pants and tugged. "I think later is now, don't you agree?"

Jareth stared at her and that coy smile for a second longer than was good for him. His eyes narrowed and his grin curled on one side.

"This isn't just a ploy to kill me, is it?" he asked, and she laughed. When he did not laugh in return, she realized he was somewhat serious. She cocked her head to the side and gave him her best puppy-dog look

"Well, if it was, it'd be a ploy worth a thousand deaths. I can promise you that."

She watched the light of the room darken around him, cover him in shadows that spoke to the predatory instinct she'd just set off in him. His head inclined, and that sinister grin, with all its dark promise, creeped ever slowly across his face. She was pushing herself against him. Pulling his hips forward while her breasts pressed against his chest. But, she managed to still keep herself at a formidable distance —too far to kiss, yet too close to breathe. He imagined all the wicked things he was going to force upon those audacious lips, and then he smiled once more.

"We'll see," Jareth said, and suddenly they were gone.

The sound of cacophony left her so abruptly Sarah actually staggered. The lightshow was gone too. Now they were standing alone, in a padded room with very dark, purple lighting. There was a sliding glass door leading out to the walkway overlooking the club below. Sarah's eyes darted from the place in the pit they'd once been standing in over to Jareth. He was waiting for her cue, standing a little taller, and looking more imposing than she'd ever seen.

Her eyes slanted to the side, and she peered around him to inspect the furniture. There was a very large, leather, sectional curved in a half circle. In front of it, a matching ottoman big enough to fit a family of four. Sarah's left brow arched very sharply at it before glancing back at Jareth.

"Yeah? Did you think a four-poster would be too direct?" she asked. The couch was very low and rounded in such ways that even the starchiest of virgins would be able to tell were made for fucking.

Jareth gave the fixture in question a curt glance, and shrugged.

"The building came fully furnished. One of the reasons we chose it. Convenient. No?"

Sarah laughed softly and toyed with his hair —subtly using him for balance. The spacial shift had her feeling wobbly again, though it was a weakness she refused to let him see.

She twirled the ends of his hair around an index finger then watched it quickly unwind as she pressed her hands down his chest. Her glazed eyes roamed all over him, and then narrowed in scrutiny.

"Not that I'm not digging the new look," she said, and traced a finger lightly down the center of his chest. "But I'm feeling a little nostalgic. Your hair...is a bit too tame. Humor me, would you?" She looked up with a meek little flutter of lashes that was transparent enough to make him laugh. Regardless, her wiles worked. He reached up and untied his hair, then ruffled it as it fell loose. And, somehow, because it was just so simple for him, his hair was back to the wild mess she remembered from her youth. Her nostrils flared as she gnawed on her lower lip. "That's better."

She reached out and clawed her hand into the back of his hair, impulsively jerking him forward into a kiss. She caught herself just in time, however, keeping her mouth hovering a painful millimeter from his. His eyes lowered to her lips, but he was patient for her next move. After a moment, her brow knitted and her eyes turned hazy. She released him, then started undoing the buttons on his vest as she slowly sank to her knees.

She kissed him on the sternum instead. Opening her mouth and tracing a hot circle over his flesh with her tongue. When she finished with his waistcoat, she grazed her nose along the seam of his shirt, inhaling his scent as she worked loose the belt on his pants.

Very sharply she pulled it away from him, the motion emitting a loud snap in the otherwise quiet room. She tossed it to the floor and undid the fly of his pants. He was still hard, the contour of his erection putting a very clear strain on his slacks. She was about to pull them down when she felt his hand on the top of her head. He grasped her by the crown, exuding a little more tension into the hold than he should have.

Sarah looked up with a very satisfied grin.

"Careful now. Someone might think you're eager."

His cock flexed when she reached up and molded her hand to it over his pants, his hips instinctively churning towards her. He made a little noise in the back of his throat, but did not otherwise respond. Sarah watched the mist build in his eyes and, without conscious thought, pulled him free and laid the head of his cock against her tongue.

She kept her eyes on his. Kept his attention entirely on her mouth. She tightened a fist around the base and stroked up the length of his shaft while her lips closed around him and suckled.

His brow furrowed and his grip in her hair tightened, but was otherwise motionless. She licked around the head, pumped him once more, and tasted the precum on her tongue as she sucked him in deeper.

She closed her eyes and murmured, appreciating the way he pulsed in her mouth and grew even harder. Damn. Thank God it was her imagination that had been surprisingly lacking. She wasn't able to fit all of him in her mouth, but what she could do seemed to be having a strong enough effect. She withdrew him from her mouth and appraised his figure while stroking her hand along the full length, drawing back her saliva and coating him entirely. He moaned. Begrudgingly it seemed, but moaned nonetheless. She paused just before taking him back into her mouth, peering up just to gloat over the awful anticipation it spurred in him.

Her tongue flicked the tip, curled around the head, and then she sucked him in as far as he would go.

She went to work, closing her eyes and hollowing her cheeks as she pulled sharply back. His breathing picked up, and his hips jutted into her in little, highly restrained thrusts. She let go to hold him by the hips instead, gaining more stability while she fucked him with her mouth.

Jareth's hand, in a fit of impulse, tightened painfully in her hair and jerked her forward. She grunted from the surprise but recovered immediately, positioning her head at a new angle as both his hands took hold of her head. He stared down at her as he began to thrust into her mouth, pulling her into each one, and only releasing at the precise moment of pain. Sarah tried her best to control her breathing. One slip up and she'd be gagging on him.

He groaned a little louder and threw his head back, planting his feet in a firmer stance as he fucked her with less and less restraint. Sarah could feel him slipping into her throat and focused entirely on suppressing her gag reflex. When he looked back at her, he angled her head up a little more, forcing her to lock eyes with him as compulsive tears beaded at the corner of hers. His hands gripped her a little harder. It would be too easy to come down her throat. And oh, how such a look provoked him. She was panting through her nose, struggling between breaths. But the look in her eye? Oh, it was even more ravenous than his.

Acknowledging this had been a mistake, as it caused a twitch in his cock that nearly unbound him. He cast his head back and moaned. Fuck she felt good. Just a few more thrusts—

Sarah's hands reached up and tore his from her hair, then she pulled her mouth sharply off of him and gripped him tightly just before he could come.

"I thought you had a point to prove?" she asked, deridingly. "Don't go finishing after a mere ten minutes."

Jareth, huffing through heavy breaths, smiled wickedly at his little minx.

"And what makes you think I can finish only once?" he countered. An index finger hooked under her jaw and insisted she rise to her feet. She obeyed, continuing to lightly jerk him off all the while. "I can't speak to what you're used to, precious. But, I assure you, I am not like other men." He pinched her chin tightly and pulled her close, his free hand pushing on her lower back so she stumbled into him. "If tonight is supposed to be worth a thousand deaths, I suggest you cease underestimating me as well."

Sarah's mouth hung open as their eyes scoured over each other's faces. As his hand, still gripping her chin, gradually released to let his fingers slowly spider up her jaw. She was still jerking him off, her slick hand moving quickly up and down in the small space between them. By the time his hold reached her hairline they were both damned. Both slaves to a moment of passion neither had realized was even building.

Her free hand fisted in the collar of his shirt as his nose grazed along hers. As his lips, so achingly close to hers, sparked at the first moment of contact. She could feel his breath. Feel the heat on her tongue. She opened her mouth wider as his head angled down, as both their eyes closed to mere slivers of sight. She felt the tip of his tongue touch hers, and she whimpered in an instinctive plea.

His hand clamped tightly into her hair, and then their faces crashed together.

Their kiss was consuming, was overpowering and crippling. They both moaned, breathing heavily into one another as they lapped at each other's tongue and bit on each other's lips.

Without thinking, Sarah let go of his cock and thrust both hands around the back of his head, keeping him pressed so close she could barely breathe. Her back arched and he leaned forward, clutching her for dear life as the kiss endured.

He took a step forward and turned before slamming her into the wall, her body inching upward from the mere force of him.

She wrapped her legs around his hips and ground against him, whimpering in high tones at the way his cock pressed perfectly against her clit. Goddamn she was hot for him, and she knew, even now, that it had very little to do with the alcohol.

Jareth held her by the ass as he thrusted against her, angling his head back as she relentlessly kissed him. He wanted to devour her. Near literally. No matter how much he tasted or bit, it wasn't enough. Her smell and her saliva and her hot cushioned mouth were not even close to enough.

He forced his way out of her embrace and yanked down the zipper on her costume, then pushed it roughly over her shoulders just enough to expose her breasts. He leaned down and sucked on her chest, moving torrid, open-mouthed kisses across her bosom. Her tits were actually larger than he'd anticipated. Fucking glorious. With rosy pink nimples already peaked in fervid anticipation.

He took hold one one breast and kneaded it, pushing it up and into his mouth as he sharply nipped on her nipple. Sarah gasped, lurching against the wall as her hand clutched the back of his head. He twirled his tongue around the bud and sucked again, slower, more deeply, and pulled it back to elicit an honest moan from her.

Jareth groaned, readjusting his stance as he kissed his way to the other breast. His tongue tickled and tantalized her. Did wicked things that would send her to orgasm all on its own. She opened her eyes and tried to calm down.

"Jareth," she pleaded, breathing heavily as her head angled back against the wall. Jareth pulled away from her chest but did not respond. Instead he bit down on the crook of her neck, and his hands, having gone back to supporting her ass, inched under the hem of her bodysuit to spread her apart.

She felt his tongue drawing shapes just below her ear before pulling away and releasing her entirely.

She didn't have time to question him. The moment her feet hit the floor he was yanking the sleeves of her suit roughly down her. She shimmied in the effort to assist him, but the damn thing was awkward and tight. He lowered to his knees as he pulled it down her hips, barely giving her time to step out of it before spreading her legs and hooking one over his shoulder.

Sarah braced against the wall as she watched Jareth's eyes close while he kissed the inside of her thigh —his hand curling around it to savor the ample shape. She wore a black thong beneath her garter belt, but that didn't matter. His mouth sealed over the fabric and licked.

Sarah's back arched and she gasped from the contact, from the heat that bloomed with each of his breaths. He let her thigh rest on his shoulder, then reached up to snap her thong —allowing her to keep her garters while he tore her pitiful excuse for underwear away.

His tongue dragged flat up the length of her cleft, refusing to penetrate flesh which was starting to throb with yearning. He repeated the motion, then hummed in satisfaction as the taste of her, as sweet and honeyed as he'd hoped, grazed his taste buds.

In a fit of impatience, she did as he had done and reached down to maneuver his head. She tried to press his face into her but he denied what she so obviously wanted. Instead he teased her with external licks. Taunting and stimulating her clit with delicate little strokes.

Belligerently, she gave up, thumping her head against the wall in defeat. She felt hot. She was damn near naked but her face was burning.

She'd been so caught up in self-pity, she didn't notice Jareth staring up at her. Didn't notice his eyes, slivered and shrewd, laughing at her frustration. Out of pity, he gave her what she craved and thrust his tongue into her.

She moaned. Moaned loudly. And it was enough to conquer his resolve in an instant. His eyes closed again and he gripped her by the thigh as his tongue split her and plunged over and over. He angled his head back and pressed his face as close to her body as possible, swallowing her fluids and murmuring from the pleasure the mere taste of her brought him.

He'd never tasted a human quite so sweet, and neither a fae for that matter. That might have seemed odd if she were an ordinary girl. But no, there was nothing ordinary about her. She was The Champion. His Champion. And oh, how sweet was the taste of victory.

He felt his cock throbbing and reached down to stroke himself while he licked her. Gods, he was ready to come. It was agonizing. How dare she render him so pitiful.

He pulled his mouth away and lowered her leg, then shrugged out of his jacket and waistcoat before standing. She was out of breath. Gasping and fevered as she stared into his eyes. His returning expression, however, was unreadable —darkened by lust and intrigue and a hint of resentment.

His hands were still gloved. He did not bother to remove them before lifting a thigh and thrusting two fingers deep into her cunt.

Sarah braced his shoulders with both hands and cried out. She wasn't expecting that. Wasn't expecting to be filled so spontaneously. His hand was undulating, moving deep and long, his knuckles curling just when they needed to.

Sarah felt the heat building again, only this time it couldn't be stopped. Her muscles clenched around his hand and her lashes wilted submissively. He watched the way her mouth dropped open and her head angle in a way that was far too flattering. He wanted to kiss her again. Wanted to feel that tongue and those teeth with his own. But he didn't. He forced himself to watch her come undone by his will.

She inched higher up the wall and shied away from him. She was heading towards a climax she did not want —not yet— and did her best to prolong it. Jareth groaned low, impatient and determined, and wedged a thigh against the inside of hers to keep her legs spread. His clothed chest pressed against her bare breasts, the heat between them starting to dampen the white linen.

And then, finally, she could hold out no longer. Her nails dug into his arms and she cried out, victim to the verge of orgasm which he then, very swiftly, denied her.

He pulled his fingers away and thrust them into her gaping mouth. Sarah gasped, curling her tongue around the slick leather instinctively and sucking. He gripped the underside of her chin with his thumb and pressed deeper into her mouth. Sarah bit on him in response. He had a feral look in his eye, but she was not about to be bullied into submission.

With a dark chuckle, Jareth took back his hand then hoisted her by the ass back against the wall. He did not give her the chance to react. It seemed this was now a battle Sarah had ceded the advantage in. He positioned his cock at her entrance and thrust himself inside.

Sarah's chest rose. Her legs constricted like vices around his back. And her hands, not knowing what else to do, knotted in his hair and held on for dear life. Jareth groaned, gasping as her tight little cunt squeezed around him. He pulled back and the feeling intensified. She was so wet. There was no restriction. He glided back in and filled her to the hilt.

"Ah—"

The sound of her sharp gasp distracted him, and he looked up at her strained and breathy expression. She stared at him, bore into his very soul it seemed, and then, before he himself could decide against it, she thrust herself forward and kissed him.

One of Jareth's hands lifted to clutch the back of her head and steady them as he opened his mouth for her but did not otherwise reciprocate. He stood completely still, something, for some reason, fighting against the natural urge to give himself back.

After a moment, however, his baser needs won. The feeling of her skillful tongue roused life back into his, and he forgot why he'd hesitated at all before kissing her just as avidly. The hand in her hair turned to cradle her close, and the one holding her ass moved to cover her tailbone and serve as a very considerate buffer as he stepped forward and thrust her back into the wall.

He fucked her hard. Offered her little reprieve as each movement thrust his cock just a little too deep. She was crying out, painfully moaning between kisses, but still he did not stop. He lost himself in her embrace. Forgot about everything else. If only for a moment.

Sarah tore her mouth away to breathe and looked sharply at the ceiling. Jareth's mouth latched onto her neck as a replacement, released his tender hold to once again fondle her breasts. He groped and squeezed, and moaned at the way they were too much to fit in one hand. What a perfect woman, he thought. Perfect in every way…

He did not realize the scope of his own thoughts and came back to the moment at the sound of her compulsive moans rising in tenor.

Her hands braced against his shoulders, her body fighting to both inch higher up the wall and stay rooted in place all at once. Her back was arched. Was locked into position. And he was given a glimpse of that earth-shattering moment when the orgasm finally hit her.

She screamed unabashedly. Moaned for him in a siren's song that had a shocking level of control over him. His mouth was open. His eyes fixated on her rounded upper lip. And then he felt it. Felt his own climax course through his cock in waves that nearly stole his composure. He moaned, thrusting sharp and deep, slowly but precise; and, unable to break away from that sultry, dangerously compelling expression of hers, emptied himself within her. Sarah's orgasm endured alongside his, both of them together and yet captured within their own daze.

When it was over Sarah looked down. Stared deep into his eyes with a look akin to outrage. He didn't understand it. And then, because it seemed there really was no one better suited, she surprised him yet again by propelling herself off the wall and sending them crashing to the floor.

He caught himself just in time and held onto her protectively as he regained equilibrium. He was sitting on the floor now, with her legs still straddling his hips and his dick still in her and hard.

Without word she undid the buttons on this shirt then pulled it off of him. That's when she realized he'd been wearing his trademark pendant all the while. The sight of it hanging low on his chest gave her pause, but she smiled. Without asking, she removed it from him and draped it over her own head and, in the heat of the moment, he allowed it. Next came his gloves. She took each of his hands and carefully plucked them away as her hips slowly rocked.

Jareth stared at the pretty kitty wearing his royal seal with a look of disbelief. She was still wearing her ears. Slanted to the side, but on her head nonetheless. His eyes lowered from them to the crevice between her breasts and the heavy gold pendant nestling itself there. What a sight. What a lovely sight indeed.

Once he was sufficiently bare, she placed her hands against his chest and pushed him down. He hit the floor with a thud, more focused with placing his hands to her hips to raise them higher.

"You're still pretty hard. Guess you weren't bluffing," she said between pants, her open mouth curling at the corners in a winded smile. She rolled her hips to his rhythm, rising high and sinking low with each turn.

"I don't bluff," Jareth said, which only made her laugh. She reached up and pulled her hair back, creating a thick tendril that he all-too-readily fisted a hand around. He pulled her neck back and sat up, using the hold to keep her in place while he thrusted into her. "What was it you said? Partying and fucking until the sun comes up? What am I if not a creature slave to your expectation?"

His smile was dastardly as he said that, as he teased and made light of their past in a way that, if not for present circumstances, she may have found offensive. Her hands grasped the column of his neck and used it to steady herself as she rode his thrusts. She wasn't quite sure what her opinion of him was. Wasn't quite sure where they really stood with one another. He was arrogant and sassy, aggressive, and kind of slutty. He'd put her through the ringer in that labyrinth; but then again, he was right. He never did anything she did not ask for. And the only thing truly villainous was her perception of him.

The way she stared at him changed as she thought this. As her remaining buzz faded into a moment of clarity. She was supposed to be his enemy. He was supposed to be devious. And yet, after a decade of no contact at all, he'd welcomed her with open arms.

Her brow drew together tightly. How was this going to end? Was this really a one night stand? Was such a thing possible for those with a connection like them?

Sensing a wave of feelings about to get the better of her, Sarah shoo'd them all away like the unwelcome pests they were. This was a one-and-done kind of thing. Jareth himself had promised that. Come tomorrow he would have to leave. She would be rid of him. ...just like before.

Offended by the distracted look in her eye, Jareth huffed and tossed her off of him. She yipped, landing on her hands and knees, which —of course— was exactly where he wanted her.

He grabbed her by the ribs and hoisted her into the ottoman.

Sarah gripped the edge and widened her legs, glancing back over her shoulder as he spread her ass with his hands. He leaned down and thrust his tongue into her cleft, savoring the combined taste of their orgasms with particular delight, then trailed it upward and rimmed her anus. Her mouth dropped open as she watched, as the feel of his tongue pushing it's way inside her reignited her passions.

His fingers curled into the flesh of her ass and he groaned into her. His eyes had closed, which amplified his sense of hearing as he pulled back on a tensed garter strap to snap it sharply back to her ass.

Sarah flinched from the minor pain and found her legs were spreading themselves even wider. Her hips, having taken on a mind of their own, moved back and forth onto his tongue.

He kissed his way over the round of her ass as he leaned up on his knees, stroking himself while inserting three, now bare, fingers into her.

Sarah turned her head around and braced against the ottoman. From this angle, the hooking of his fingers hit something that was already dangerously stimulated. She inched forward over the ottoman, but once her hips hit the edge she had nowhere left to go. Jareth's hand pushed deeper, coating the base of his knuckles, before withdrawing one finger and sliding it into her ass.

Despite the surprise (and his audacity) Sarah instinctively pushed herself back. She was far from shy and wasn't about to prove herself a prude if this was the road he intended to take.

Jareth regarded the bowing of her back as encouragement and toyed with her a little rougher, applying more pressure to the finger moving in and out of her ass as he bit on his lip while imagining fucking her there.

The fingers in her cunt became wetter and wetter, her swollen insides tensing and begging to be properly filled. He'd gone dry in his hand and, for that reason alone, pulled his fingers out of her to replace them with his cock instead.

The finger in her ass remained and was actually joined by another as his cock penetrated her deep. Sarah lurched forward, grasping at nothing as she was forced to submit. He leaned over her, holding himself on an elbow pressed to the ottoman, and used his weight to anchor her and his hand in place as he fucked her nice and slow.

The noises Sarah made were sounds foreign to her. They were high, breathy, overly feminine and riddled with panic. She couldn't move. Couldn't properly brace or alleviate anything. He'd planted his knees on the inside of hers, keeping them wide, and balanced her hips on the very edge of the ottoman while his fingers pressed deeper into her ass. And the feeling of his cock, just as hard and impressive as when they'd started, moved with such nuance and was buried so deeply, all she could feel was a blind sensation burgeoning in the pit of her stomach.

This was too much. She was going to lose it. Sweat was beading on her brow as she struggled to form legitimate moans.

She felt the ends of Jareth's hair tickle her back, and was able to glance back at him just enough to see that his eyes had closed, that he looked deeply focused and aroused and entirely entranced by the feel of her body. Such a look broke her. A look of pure, unrestricted admiration.

Her mouth slowly dropped open as her body tensed, and she suddenly cried out in a shrill moan that was more surprising than the orgasm that hit her.

She writhed, shrieking as tension boiled over and begged for release. Jareth's posture cemented, holding her down like a dog lest she jerk too sharply and risk him tearing the inside of her ass.

Her body seized around him, her back bowing and her head angling up as the acute, yet all encompassing, sensation barrelled through her.

And bloody hell, it was glorious. Watching her go through that was glorious. He felt himself nearing the brink again, and closed his eyes as he rested his forehead against her spine. After a moment, she settled. Her body relaxed and he, very carefully, removed his hand. She was breathing heavily, the sound rough and exhausted. Her skin was hot against his, moist and soft and perfect.

His jaw clenched as he took hold of her hips, then pulled her back sharply onto a few final thrusts. He came a second time, the feeling much more gentle than it'd been with her. He moaned deep in his throat, pressing his brow harder into her back as his hands held her pressed tightly to him.

When he finally opened his eyes, he was surprised to notice a shift in the tension about them. It was there, but had calmed. And the quiet, for the first time seemed to mean something. He pulled out of her, sat back as she rolled over to face him. She leaned up on her elbows and just stared. She looked blindsided. Confounded. And he realized it was an expression that must mirror his own.

Something of impulse took hold of that stare. Something unnamed and unstoppable and pure. It raised in his chest and expelled as a sudden breath that he didn't realize he'd been holding.

He reached out for her, and with a mere touch of his hand her remaining clothing vanished. She startled back, shifting up the ottoman as he suddenly crawled over her. And, as he did so, she realized he was now fully nude as well.

She ceased her backpedaling when he came to loom face to face, when his arms, flexed and intimidating, came down to cage either side of her head.

Her eyes turned round and meek, revealing a sense of desperation over the fact that, despite having no idea what she was feeling, it was clear that it was something he was feeling too.

His brow knitted tightly. His chest heaved on tired breaths. He reached down and jerked on her ass, angling her legs further apart as he nestled between them and, in an even more abrupt gesture, glided his already renewed erection fully inside her.

He looked confused as he did this. Like he had no idea what it meant. He was worked up and so was she. Sarah lifted her torso until their stomachs touched and placed a gentling hand to his back. He lowered with her, their stare unbroken as their bodies melded flush against one another.

He shifted onto his elbows, and cradled her head —with those stupid cat ears— tenderly. Her hands moved higher up his back, and she closed her eyes as she angled her chin towards him. The gesture was already initiated, but this time it was he who kissed her.

She paused. She wasn't expecting that. Wasn't expecting the sense of ardor and abandon that made that kiss so passionate. Jareth's eyes closed, his arms constricted around her, and the way he pushed his body against hers was not sexual at all, but a mere effort to be as close as possible.

The emotions Sarah had earlier denied were suddenly back in full force, begging her to do something stupid and let them in. She'd be an idiot to get caught up in this. An idiot to think this was something other than the fleeting compulsion of lust. Still, the way he kissed her just now felt real. And the look in his eye...it made her feel like she was the only thing in his entire world.

She knew she was going to regret this night. She knew it was going to be a mistake. Still, this night of a thousand deaths would not be denied its worth. She closed her own eyes as she embraced him, as she pretended, with no effort at all, just how wonderful this scenario could be.

Her hips rocked, inciting his to do the same. He started to move, slowly, gently, neither questioning the fact that this had obviously become something more than fucking. They held onto each other, moved with one another, and existed for no one but the other all night long...until the sun came up.

---

Sarah awoke from a brief sleep to the feeling of a corkscrew twisting into the side of her head, but oddly enough her hangover was better than expected. She scratched at her head and sat up, then glanced over to the indentation in the ottoman left behind by a certain fae king.

She stretched out her arms and yawned, blinking until her eyes gained focus, and eventually located him dressing in front of her.

"What time is it?" she asked, groggily. Jareth glanced back with a grin as he tucked his shirt into his pants.

"A little past six. It's almost dawn." He looked away as he began to button up his shirt. Sarah, sobering up fast, scowled as she scooted to the edge of the ottoman.

"Oh…" she said, wading through some very sudden and severe disconcertion as she reached down for her clothes.

"Yes. Time's up, unfortunately." He sounded chipper and not the least bit disappointed about it. Sarah watched him skeptically, then frowned.

"So you really do have to leave when the sun comes up?" she asked. Jareth shrugged into his vest and pulled his hair back into a ponytail.

"Yes. I was being literal. Once the sun rises, I and the rest of my kind will be compelled back to the Underground."

Sarah didn't say anything right away. Instead she lowered her head as she quickly dressed herself.

"And the people at the party?"

"Sleeping off the night's festivities. I assume they'll wander home as they do every year."

Sarah nodded but wasn't much listening. She felt deeply insecure all of the sudden and knew exactly why. Dammit. She'd gone and let herself feel. Stupid.

She peered up at him in a quiet beseech as he pulled on his coat and adjusted the collar. Sarah, feeling totally ridiculous and exposed in her torn up cat costume, wished she somehow had her trench coat to cover herself up.

Jareth, distracted by the dwindling time he had left, finally looked over and actually saw her.

"Are you alright?" he asked. Sarah paused. That question was baiting. She couldn't answer it.

"Yeah. I'm fine. Just hung over," she eventually said, lying through her teeth and forcing a smile that only made her feel worse. So...this was it? Really? She wouldn't see him again until next year or... indefinitely? She'd had one night stands before. Parting ways was never an issue. So...why did this feel so abrupt? Why was she so bothered by it?

"Make sure to drink some water when you get home," Jareth said, which surprised her. He was grinning again, looking so friendly and unintimidating. She'd lied by telling herself last night was going to be nothing but impulse, but was that what it actually was for him?

Feeling every bit the fool she knew she would be, Sarah smoothed out her hair as best she could and then crossed her arms tightly over her chest.

"Sarah."

Sarah looked up and straight at him. He was staring at her worriedly, though she didn't know what to make of it.

"Yeah?"

"Come here. I'll bring you home."

"What?"

Sarah's brow twisted in an ugly way as she said that, and she stood rigidly as he approached her. He placed his hands on her shoulders and, between blinks, they were suddenly back at her apartment.

Sarah looked all around, too caught off guard to readily respond.

"W-how do you know where I live?" she asked, doing double and triple takes to confirm she was really home. The corner of Jareth's mouth curled and he huffed.

"Magic is intuitive," he said, playfully. Sarah, very adverse to his morning-after cheer, kept her head lowered as she stood before him.

"Well thanks. I wasn't much looking forward to a city-wide walk of shame." She tried her best to inflect humor into that, but to her it sounded bitter. Fucking hell. She needed to get over herself. It was one night. An amazing night, definitely, but not something she could or should even want to happen again. He wasn't even human for Christ's sake...

"At least you'd carry yourself with flare," Jareth replied, apparently ignorant of her doldrums as he raked his eyes over her apparel. Sarah glanced towards her living room window. The first rays of morning were peaking through.

"You don't have much time. So...same time next year?" she asked, awkwardly. Fuck me. How pathetic can you be Sarah? she internally berated. Jareth's grin stretched a little further and he angled his head down at her.

"That sounds like a string," he said, mockingly, and all hope in her was utterly shattered. Her body tensed as emotion plummeted, her insecure, vulnerable mind fighting to remain steeled. Did he really just say that? Does he mean it? What about last night? There was definitely...something there.

When Sarah's eyes lifted from the floor, she prayed her strained smile would be convincing enough.

"Sorry. I didn't mean it that way," she said, with a scoff. Jareth tilted his head as he regarded her. She was a hot fucking mess, but something about her was just so cute. He reached out and gently grasped the sides of her face, brushing his thumbs over her cheeks in a tender gesture.

"Thank you for last night," he said, and her stare shot up at him. He smiled softly and leaned down to plant a chaste kiss on her lips. "You've defeated me yet again —made an auspicious night worth a thousand deaths. A feat undoubtedly only accomplishable by the Labyrinth's Champion." The sentiment seemed to linger as he said that, as the action of his thumbs slowed and his eyes, once so content, seemed to dull just like hers.

Sarah gulped as she searched him for the validation of her own feelings, but the amiable way he regarded her was just too ambiguous. After a moment when she said nothing he withdrew his hands, and the moment that line of contact broke, so did whatever delusion she'd built around herself. He was just a man, she told herself, and she was just a woman. They might be suited to entertain one another but there was nothing else there. There couldn't be. She would be reaching out for him if there was—

"Jareth," she called out, taking a tiny step forward when he turned his back on her. He turned back with a raised brow. "Um. Thank you."

He turned a little more and scowled in confusion.

"For what?"

"For...being more than I expected."

His eyes widened in surprise as rays of sunlight passed through the window directly over him. He opened his mouth to speak, but it seemed words failed. He was thrown. And then, before any realization could be made, the pull of another world proved the stronger foe. Sarah watched him literally fade before her eyes, and she took another compulsive step towards him. She raised a hand to his cheek, but she didn't feel him there. This would be her moment. The moment, as the novels would say. The moment where she professes her dramatic, undying, and totally unrealistic love for him.

If she were more confident, maybe she would have. Maybe she would have demeaned herself then and there and said something totally ridiculous that he would have to live with for however many years until they maybe saw each other again.

She was, however, not so selfish. No, instead she let the opportunity slip by them and said nothing at all. And her smile, doing everything it could to hold back her heartache, twitched reassuringly as he continued to look more and more confused. Then, curiously, he cocked his head, opened his mouth, and spoke —but no sound came. Whatever he said was lost in the veil. He was nearly gone and, as the light of morning shone ever brighter, he faded away to nothingness. And her hand, still raised to where his cheek might have been, curled into a fist that fell bitterly to her side.

---

A/N- alright...So I know I just said this is a one shot. I guess that's a lie because no this is not the end. My vision is to make this a short story centered around the major holidays. Therefore, you can expect the next installment to take place and be posted at Christmas time. See you then!