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*

4. Chapter 4

A/N- Oh my gosh, it's here. Phew. So...I think I mentioned something about this being planned for Lughnasa back in August? Well...sorry. It didn't end up fitting with my preferred time line, so I pushed it back to Mabon at the end of September and...that didn't happen either lol. I wasn't able to even start this until after October first, so by that point I just decided to bring the story full circle and have it end on the same holiday it began. ...it's more poetic that way, anyway...right? lol. Because of the long wait, I did decide to post now rather than wait until Halloween, like I did with all the other holidays. Cheers.

Um, secondly, I have some disclaimers. As you well know by now, each installment of this story is just an excuse for gross acts of depraved and thoroughly explored canoodlery. I kind of wanted this final chapter to really have that Grand Finale feel, so —*ahem* let me clear my throat here— Beware that this chapter contains graphic sexual content including but not limited to: lactation kink, orgasm denial, bodily fluid play, aggressive manhandling, public exposure, and squirting. If a reader should be adverse to any of those things then...please don't read this. There is just so much of it that I don't think it's worth trying to read around. That said, if that list of things excites you, then have at it. Enjoy!

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Night of a Thousand Deaths: Samhain

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(reprise)

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Muahahaha...Muahahaha...

A monotonous rumble of laughter filled the air, echoing low and lifelessly as it rose with a fog that pooled outward from beneath a cotton web covered pair of severely dehydrated hydrangea bushes. A grainy mist flooded the lawn, turned silver and blue from fractures of light that cut in from between the parted seams of some heavily hung curtains that loomed over two large windows just up ahead. A pair of beady eyes and a curious index finger would poke through with zealous frequency, moving away and back again, and again and again —either over eager or simply untrusting of that supposedly convenient motion sensor that signaled the arrival of newcomers with that atmospheric (and not at all annoying) muahaha.

Skeletal hands creeped from the ground, bred of cheap plastic and poorly carved commercial molds. Dabs of black were systematically airbrushed to each joint —a well considered detail to give them that authentic feel, one could argue. Those clawing fingers and the odd, out of place humerus lined their path up the walk, joined together by a series of less than symmetric jack-o'-lanterns and one, painfully shrill, animatronic bat.

The pumpkins had been out for some time —their once happily sinister faces now warped down into something less plainly described as the orange skin curled inward, and the yellow flesh, once glowing with luminate candlelight, soured to a bespeckled black as rot spread to the very contours of those grins like plaque.

And, truly, that so very tasteful ambience was brought to near perfection by the predictable pop and crackle of static that carried that weary chuckle over all of those spooky things as it resonated from the glowing mouth/speaker of a spray-foam gargoyle waiting in welcome at the top of the stairs.

And that was only the space directly in front of them. God forbid they acknowledge what lay in their peripheral vision.

Sarah and Jareth stood closely together and in silence as a herd of feral, sugar-shocked children tumbled down the steps and sprinted past them every which way. Wisps of fog turned up with each thumping step —paths cleared in their wake by the trailing of capes and heavily weighed polyvinyl bags. One such cretin even bumped into Sarah's leg. She clutched the swaddle she held in her arms as she sidestepped, but was halted when a hand clamped over her shoulder to steady her.

Without even a passing sorry! the child dashed onward straight into the street (The street? Yes. Yes! The street, I tell you. How careless!).

Sarah had to raise a hand of her own to gentle her husband as he turned to shoot that rancid little guttersnipe a positively cutting glare. The thoughts she saw play out across his face being a direct contrast to her concern.

It would be hard to tell costumes from creatures tonight...and from the look of it, no one would really care anyway. What is the difference between a human child and a goblin, really? —t'was a threat pondered with such passion that Sarah could practically see the words spelling themselves out on Jareth's malcontent face. She couldn't stop herself from poking fun, however, and pursed her lips in a grin.

"We're out of your jurisdiction, remember?" she asked, baiting him with that coy smile when he reflexively glanced over, and then leaned up on her toes to whisper, "No bogging tonight."

If it weren't for the (100% intentional) sweet seduction lining her voice, he may have done just that. Human guise aside, they were royalty —and one does simply bump into his queen while carrying their princess.

"The bog would be mercy," he said, half distracted as his eyes scanned the surrounding area. Groups of prepubescent humans moved in packs, their slightly larger stature molding that snapshot of modern suburbia into something that mirrored his own goblin infested streets with an uncanny similarity.

Sarah saw the tightness in Jareth's expression endure as he scrutinized the neighborhood, and had to restrain herself from laughing.

"Oh, calm down. He was just excited. He didn't mean it," she said, nudging him in the ribs with her elbow. "It's not like she even woke up anyway."

Sarah looked away from him and hunched her shoulders to bring the bundle closer, nuzzling her nose at it with a smile that softened him as he watched. It was impossible to resist. Impossible to feel anything other than ease when admiring his girls.

"We probably should though….God knows Karen's going to scream as soon as she opens the door," Sarah mumbled to herself, readjusting her arm as the sleeping princess stretched.

Jareth didn't know at what point his glare became a grin.

"I told her we have a party to get to, so hopefully we won't have to stick around long," Sarah went on, tucking a stray baby arm back under the blanket before looking back up at Jareth. "I know you've been feeling a little uh….antsy."

Jareth's grin widened like a snake's as his eyes rolled away. It was all he could do to hold himself back. Oh, antsy, was it? That word was so tepid and yet possessed so many other meanings. Should he indulge her? Should he take the bait and call out that cocky, one-sided smirk that was just begging to be bitten?

No. No. This was a game of strategy. And, after the last few days especially, he was honestly just plain impressed she still had the gall, let alone the physical energy, to provoke him like this. Let her have her quips. He'd have her soon enough.

The hand that had once steadied her raised back into place and gripped her shoulder possessively, inching her closer and under his arm as he leaned down to whisper his own bit of provocation into her ear.

"If immortality has taught me anything, little kitten, it's patience. Are you sure you're not the one feeling antsy?"

That hand of his was clever. It strayed at just the right pace —moving downward and to her waist, to her hip, and then around to slip under her sweater and touch the soft skin of her stomach just above the button on her jeans. Sarah stiffened from the contact but remained tall. Both knew he'd have to do better than that to disarm her.

Challenge arched her brow for her when she angled her head and peered sharply upward at Jareth.

"Just wait til tonight, Goblin King. I'll have you begging on your knees."

The glint in his eye spoke for him, conveying the promise he took those words as. Sarah lightly shook him off of her and turned her nose high as she stepped away. Jareth, forgetting all about everything that wasn't the silhouette of her ass swaying in those still-too-tight jeans, complacently followed.

---

It'd been a very long two weeks leading up to that augurous banter on that particularly Hallmark All Hallows' Eve. It was a day long in the making, but that night precisely sixteen days ago? Now that was when preparations got interesting.

It was well into the night after another long day of tending to courtly duties and crying babies —the latter of which abiding, seemingly ceaselessly, for just shy of three months. That night, however, she was quiet. That night, however, they were determined.

The blanket was drawn up over their heads —the thick one. The season was still a touch too warm for such an insulated comforter, but it helped muffle the sound.

Sarah did her best to limit her moans to heavy breaths, the sound low and the air hot as she arched her neck back into the pillow.

Jareth's mouth was on her neck, sucking on the muscle there as his thumb reached up and rubbed along her dampened lower lip. A tug on the flesh would graze the edge of her teeth against the pad of his thumb. He pushed in just as her tongue darted out to lick it.

He kept his shoulders bowed lest there be no air between them to breathe, moving his hips in sharp thrusts deeply in, and out, and in again.

She spread her legs as wide as she could for his ease but held her hands tight on his ass to keep him pressed to the hilt, making sure he fucked her in the sweet and slow way they'd been restricted to.

His hand let go of her jaw and reached down to grope her breast. Sarah let go and raised her arms above her head, trying to lift the blanket higher to find more air.

It was a far cry from the romps of their youth all but seven months ago, but —after going through the pains of abstinence for two months straight— neither one was complaining.

At least...until the baby woke.

Which was often.

Without Sarah's hands keeping his pace, Jareth found room to pull back. His forehead pressed to her shoulder while one knee anchored into the bed, making the angle fucking perfect when he pulled back and thrust forward harder. He may have moaned —or maybe it was her. Regardless, the sound was above the approved threshold and, right on cue, a disgruntled baby gurgle cut clear through the haze.

Sarah's breath fell short and her body tensed, a new tic she's picked up in recent weeks. Jareth paused as well, holding himself up on his elbows as they both listened with a feeling of dread.

It was pitch black beneath their blanket; their labored breaths seemed louder in the close quarters. Sarah's eyes darted to the right, to the spot close to the bed where she knew one very disapproving faerie princess was lurking.

A minute or two passed, and no other sound came. Sarah exhaled in relief and looked up at Jareth.

He kissed her on the mouth to cover whatever sound that might erupt when he curled his arms around her head and thrust deep. Her knees bent and braced his hips, her hands wrapping around his back as she held him as close as possible.

Experience made them fully aware of how precarious that situation was, so those breaks of panic were sadly necessary. Princess Lydia, first of her name, may have been the most wonderful baby to have ever been born, but she was also an exasperating asshole when it came to bed time. Rarely did she sleep for long stretches throughout the night and, where there was one alarming gurgle, there would surely be a scream.

Now, neither Sarah or Jareth would ever admit to rushing through sex lest it not be completed at all, but…

Sarah bit down on Jareth's lip as her eyes screwed shut. If she focused, she might actually be able to come this time. And, if she was quick about it, he might even be able to come too. Yes— just like that— just—

A few squeaky moans slipped through her teeth as Jareth's pace grew more urgent and forceful. He wrapped an arm under her back and lifted her, pinning her hip with the other hand as he slid his cock from base to tip over and over. The air was getting hotter. There was sweat on his brow. He could feel her tensing up, hear her voice peaking. He was devoted to coming with her when—

A rattled little whine. It was louder that time —accompanied by several more grunts and irate shifting sounds.

Sarah seized up again, but not Jareth. No. No. Frustration compelled him to ignore those mildly distressed gripes and persevere. They were too close to stop. The groaning at their bedside continued, however, and became more lucid. Sarah became more and more distracted by it, but —damn it! Not again!

"Ignore her," he said, reaching up and turning Sarah's face to his as he kissed her. He could feel how tense she'd become —and not in any way that was good.

Sarah breathed heavily with a furrowed brow.

"But she's—"

"Shh…"

Too many times had their lovemaking been cut short by that, so very spoiled, little goblinette. After only a few weeks, she had his poor, beloved queen trained to respond to even the faintest sneezes like a hair trigger. He'd tried to persuade Sarah into putting her in her own nursery, but...well…

Sarah did her best to obey and tune out all of Lydia's fussing. Her heartbeat quickened with anxiety because of it, but —Goddammit— he was right!

Even if she started crying, she'd be fine for just a few more minutes. There was no harm in letting her sooth herself. She needed the practice, right? This was good for her. Yeah. Good for her and—and—

Fuck. It was going to be hard finding a way to come like this.

Jareth sensed her guard lower just a fraction and took full advantage of it. He reared up higher to his knees and fucked her without restraint. The sudden force of his forward thrust caught her off guard, so much so that her moan came out as a cough.

It was loud.

Too loud.

Lydia let out a wail.

Whatever resolve Sarah thought she had died instantly.

Instinct demanded she freeze, demanded she divert 110% of her attention to the baby crying woefully for her help. She started to lean up, either despite or completely unaware of Jareth still positioned over top of her. He tried to use her movements against her and quell her back into the moment, but he knew even as he did it that it was futile.

"Jareth —Jareth, come on. She's crying."

Jareth blinked slowly without releasing her.

"She'll settle on her own if you let her. Just ignore her…"

Sarah scowled and came at him with a forearm.

"No."

One quick shove and, just like that, he was embracing air while she scuttled fast to the crib.

Jareth sighed and dropped his head to the pillow. His balls were going to start throbbing soon. He'd never been so familiar with the sensation as he was now. Ironic, given that he was so very happily married.

He turned his head to spy on said wife as she stood beside the crib in full buff, grinning down like all his touches had had absolutely no effect on her whatsoever.

"Shh...shh...it's okay, baby. I'm here."

Sarah cooed and lifted the child into her arms, angry little limbs flailing every which way. She soon settled after being nestled into Sarah's embrace, however, and slowly the two of them swayed.

"See? You're fine. You've got nothing to cry about."

Jareth lowered himself to lay on Sarah's pillow, then folded his arms under his cheek and watched them —pondering vaguely how he might go about getting her to speak that way to him, too.

She started humming softly as she rocked, the large room somehow filled with the delicate sound. Jareth waited patiently, admiring the contour of her ass when she eventually leaned down to place Lydia back in her crib, then eyed her shapely saunter as she stepped her way back to the bed.

Jareth did not move over to his side, so Sarah perched herself on the edge of the bed beside him.

"Do you feel better?" he asked, the question half muffled into the pillow. Sarah smirked.

"Yeah. For the next five minutes, anyway."

She watched Jareth's eyes roam away from her. The tension at the corners there made him seem grumpy, but he was nothing but placid by the time his gaze came back.

"Excellent," he said, and reached out for her. "Now you can make me feel better too."

His fingers laced with hers and pulled her on top of him. Their lips met before his back even hit the bed, eyes closing and limbs twining like they'd never been interrupted at all. Things escalated quickly, though she wouldn't have described it as passionate. More...frenzied, or impatient —like he was in a hurry. Sarah felt his hand on her hip grinding her against his erection and she...snickered.

Jareth stopped dead.

"...is something funny?"

Sarah blanched.

Uh oh. …oops.

She pursed her lips to try and lessen her grin, but that was only more insulting. Jareth's hands were combing through her hair, his expression on hers hazed but not without focus. You're treading a fine line, Sarah Williams, those mannerisms told her. She bit hard on her lip and averted her eyes.

"No," she said, like there was so much more to it. "No, you're just….you're cute."

Her smirk was meant to be affectionate, as was the teasing way she tapped on his chest —fall short by a thousand leagues on that front, she sure as shit did. Jareth paused as the romantic haze cleared from his eyes —leaving his stare thoroughly deadpan.

"Cute?" was all he could say.

Sarah shifted on him, inhaling through her nose as she teetered on that precarious edge. To her knowledge, she was the only one who'd yet survived laughing at the Goblin King.

"Yeah," she said, breezily with a shrug of the shoulders. "When you get...I don't know...frustrated."

That was supposed to be playful, a bit of harmless teasing. Jareth had a good sense of humor. He'd get that she wasn't actually making fun of him, right?

Right?

"Oh…" he said, and that other shoe dropped along with a flare of panic straight to Sarah's gut. "I see," he added, clipped and ominous and—

Oh...Super uh oh.

She done fucked up.

Sarah had enough time to catch the spite in Jareth's grin when he deftly rolled them over and pressed her hard to her back. Her eyes widened instinctively, a little oof of surprise bursting out of her.

"What are you—"

And the baby grunted in annoyance.

"So, you're laughing at me then?" Jareth asked, ignoring her question and the ornery grumbles now coming from the crib.

"What? No—"

"Or rather...at my pain?" he clarified. Sarah didn't know what to say, but definitely not yes. It didn't matter what she said, however, for he seemed to be reading her mind. Jareth chuckled softly as he stared at her, that invasive gaze sharpening in conviction. "Oh, Sarah. You must find these trysts, these...menial abbreviations just delightful, don't you?"

Was...was that rhetorical?

"Oh, but of course," he went on —yes, it was rhetorical. "And why wouldn't you? I am, after all, such a generous lover."

Her initial surprise rendered her unable to tell if he was angry. Facetiousness was practically infused in his blood, and those eyes...those eyes were having such wicked fun. In truth, the sudden intimidation made her face hot, made her lay beneath him with her hands facing up with palms open. Should she try to explain herself better? Should she bother saying it was the situation she found funny? Or...or should she just let him do whatever it was that was now happening?

She sucked in a breath when his head lowered, and laid stock still when his lips touched her clavicle. She squirmed beneath him at the feeling of his tongue trailing along the bone, her pelvis searching for his cock to rub against. Maybe he was just teasing. Maybe...they could just pretend that never happened.

Jareth paused again, her eagerness was only sealing her fate.

"Hm…" he murmured, running the tip of his nose up her neck. "Maybe that's the problem."

"Huh?"

Jareth pulled away just enough to look down at her. Sarah stared at him in a gape.

"I think you've been taking my affections for granted, love," he said, then angled his head down to whisper in her ear. "I wonder just how cute frustration will make you."

She was confused at first, blinking quickly with a scowl. She tried to shift away from him, but the weight of his body made it difficult. She was vaguely aware of his hand working down between her legs, but the realization of his threat was delayed when three of his fingers were pumping inside of her.

"What do you—" and her voice broke on a moan. "Ja—Jar—"

"Ah ah. Shush now," he said, speaking so light and tauntingly. "Wouldn't want to wake her again."

Oh yes. He was right. That was the last thing she wanted. Sarah tempered her voice and stared searingly at the ceiling. Jareth fingered her harder, working her decisively. He was trying to make her come and— and it never took long at all to—

Sarah's back started to bow off the bed, bracing against the quick but steady build of an orgasm. She didn't understand what he'd gotten all huffy about, but no longer cared now that she was finally getting some release.

She closed her eyes and opened her mouth wide. Just a few more seconds. She could feel it— yes— right there—

Jareth waited until she was distracted and at the very peak before pulling out abruptly, and selfish little Sarah had the audacity to look genuinely abashed when she glared at him for it.

"W-why did you…?"

She was practically panting, brow furrowed tight in laughable confusion as she looked up at him. In fact, that's exactly what Jareth did. She watched him snicker menacingly from above her.

"Oh, now that's a look," he said mockingly "My, Sarah, I think you're right. It's so cute."

Awareness soon caught up with her, and now Sarah's furrowed look of confusion narrowed to one of offense. W-wait Was he really going to be that petty? Oh, who was she kidding? Of course he was.

"Jareth…"

She said his name slowly —in some kind of warning, probably.

"Ah, but I don't think we're quite at the same level yet, are we?" he asked. Sarah scowled. "How many times has that little goblin come between us? How many nights have I spoiled you and made you silently scream while you, sweet thing, left me high and dry? Oh yes. You have so many weeks of frustration to catch up to."

Okay. Let's take a step back. He was definitely exaggerating there. Yes, there might have been a few times where she kind of forgot or got tired, or maybe just lost the mood before he could finish, and maybe that always happened after he gave her hers, but—

"You realize that only happened because we have a newborn to care for, right? It's been exhausting. Are you really going to try to hold that against me?" she asked, getting all rankled. Jareth scoffed.

"No. I would not in the slightest. I think you've misunderstood me, darling," he said, though she was hardly relieved. "What I mean is that I think this will make for an interesting game."

He was grinning at her —no— smirking. The one that sizzled. The one that made her heart race. Sarah lowered her banners as she thought over the suggestion.

…Oh? A game?

"Uh huh…" she started, then slanted her eyes to the side. Though it may seem simple, such words needed careful consideration. It did not need to be stated just how duplicitous Jareth could be when it came to his games. "So...let me see if I'm understanding you correctly: you think denying me orgasms is going to end well for you? Really?"

There were many things worth betting on in life but, to Sarah at least, sex was not one of them. That said, the arrogance poised in that halfcocked grin of his was provoking her to give him a real run for his money.

"What I think, precious, is that you're far too cocky," Jareth said, her own mirror it would seem. He leaned up slightly so that no part of him touched her, then inclined his head until he hovered just out of reach. "...let's see if you're still snickering in a week."

Sarah huffed. Oh, by Gaia, challenge accepted.

"A week?" she asked, trying not to laugh. "Is that all?"

Her cockiness left her unaware of the connivery haunting his eyes.

"No," he said. "You'll give in well before then."

A scoff was her immediate response, but it was interrupted when he leaned down and kissed her lightly on the lips. A tic of suspicion kept her unresponsive, but the way his eyes closed so gently softened it. She kissed him back. Matched his pace. Moaned quietly into his ear when he reached down and played with her again.

She knew very well that the game had already begun, knew that he was getting her worked up for mere sport. Still, it felt good...

"You don't think...this kind of game is going to backfire on you?" she eventually asked. Jareth looked up from the breast he'd been licking. "Two can play at this, you know."

Was that a threat or a promise? he wondered. Regardless, he was hardly intimidated. Even if he did lose, it'd be a defeat worth suffering.

"Oh, I'm expecting it," he replied, dismissively almost, before going back to kissing her breast. Sarah watched keenly as she held the back of his head.

"How about upping the stakes then?"

A little pause came. Oh, so little. The preemptive grin creasing Sarah's face curled further when Jareth reflexively drew back and peered up again. Like a moth to a flame.

"A week is no time at all for either of us," she went on. "So, how about drawing it out a bit? Maybe 'til...Halloween?" She waited for input. Jareth cocked a brow in intrigue. "Samhain is in a little over two weeks. Seems like the perfect finish line. If neither of us gives in by the celebration, then…"

"Then?" Jareth repeated.

Sarah's brow arched mischievously.

"Then we celebrate."

---

And such as it was for the next sixteen days. Despite Jareth's bold proclamation to subdue her within a week, he was just as riveted to keep it going for as long as possible. She'd given him something new to look forward to this year, and (though he would not speak such blaspheme) he supposed there was nothing wrong with a draw.

Sleight of hand and other such tactics proved very useful —secret touches in the council chamber, an unnecessary whisper of outright vulgarity during Court, a spontaneous, heated make-out behind a curtain? And let's not forget to mention the actual torture that became their bedroom each night. The Queen of Goblins was a wilting blossom only when she wanted to be, and the King was...well, he was just ravenous.

They almost gave in and called quits on more than one occasion, and suddenly the phrase it just happened became even more sympathetic. His balls were so blue and angry with him that there had been entire days when he didn't even want to move. The foul mood it'd caused affected all but one, of course. No, that vile little vixen of his was delighted to see him suffer and, in truth, he was delighted to suffer. He made sure to give back what she gave in equity, positively relishing the moments when she would growl and groan and scratch and punch him in exasperation. As horrible of a process as it was, he couldn't help but laugh. What a splash of fun that game had given to those otherwise extraneous days and nights of planning for that, so very much anticipated Samhain night.

And now, through grime and gruel and flagellated pride, they stood together on the precipice of that fantastical truce. That hence, unspoken end. T'was Halloween night, a time when barriers and inhibitions were lowered on a cosmic scale. She'd laughed when he described it as ceremonious, the enactment of all those wonderful, vile, despicable promises they were making akin to a renewal of vows.

And yet he was not wrong. It was at that rave where they first touched, and tasted, and unleashed their frustrations upon one another, where Fate had bound them, and marked them in the bites that they'd left. It was that same rave that they would be attending in but a few short hours. That rave at which...they were going to positively obliterate each other.

Presently, one final trial separated them from la grande mort: Karen. Given that Samhain was the one night of the year when the fae race could freely pass between worlds, it was safe to say that none of them were particularly keen on spending it by babysitting. Such opinions weren't exactly a concern for Jareth, of course, but Sarah thought it a perfect opportunity to find a compromise by allowing Karen to host her very first grandma-grade sleepover.

Save a few barefaced lies she and Jareth were going to have to finesse their way through when dropping off their precious bundle of joy, the night was set to be a perfect breeze: no interruptions, no restrictions, no quiet anxiety, all the sex and alcohol she could handle (and maybe more, with any luck). Yeah. It was going to be one hell of an anniversary. Sarah had never looked forward to a holiday with such virility before.

It would also be their first night away from Lydia, but...she was trying not to think about that.

Sarah blinked out of her thoughts to find even more Party City overstock peeping out from the grass as they approached the house —things like skulls and rats and demonic, abominable babydolls littering what was once such a wholesome and so very Christian front lawn. T'was a far cry from the pastel colored pinwheels and streamers they remembered from that spring, but, oh —still so perfectly on brand.

Sarah slowed to walk in line with Jareth just in time to catch him eyeing all of Karen's decorations with a discernable and passionately untactful curl of the lip.

"Is it not to your standards?" she asked teasingly. Jareth cracked a grin.

"Not hardly."

"I apologize on their behalf, then. Actual goblins are a bit of a rare commodity in these parts."

She shrugged with nonchalance before looking down when Lydia's aimless little arms squirmed their way out from the blanket again.

"Are you implying I use my own subjects as mere decoration?" Jareth asked.

This time Sarah laughed, looking up at him with a highly raised brow.

"Oh, absolutely."

And now it was time to ascend the stairs. Four of them, to be precise. A weathered two-by-four with badly peeling paint served as the bottom step. It creaked under foot, a sound that was promptly drowned out by the return of the, now much louder and surprisingly startling muahaha.

The baby twitched awake in Sarah's hold, but thankfully wasn't frightened by the sound. Sarah stared downward as her round eyes opened wide and focused on her. They were so deep —a showed blue like the bottom of the sea. A part of her hoped they would lighten like Jareth's —that icy blue was a thing of envy, after all— but, after getting lost in that bottomless gaze for the last three months, she was also starting to hope they stayed that way. Regardless, the eye of their princess would ensnare any who dared cross her —as Jareth liked to say.

She fussed more aggressively as she woke. Jareth reached over to help sooth her into submission.

"I still don't understand why you've dressed her this way. Clearly, she hates it," he said.

Sarah scoffed and rolled her eyes.

"Oh. Right. Because that's why she's fussing. I don't understand why you hate it so much," she countered, fixing her hold and twiddling her finger just to giggle at the way those intensely fixed baby eyes inadvertently crossed.

Jareth lowered his hand and peered ahead, slow-blinking at the tattered cotton ghost with its bonafide DIY balloon center that dangled, so wistfully, just in front of his face.

"She's a princess," he said flatly. "An actual princess, and you've gone and dressed her as a gourd."

"Um —let's get one thing straight— she is a pumpkin. Okay? There is a difference."

She held his stare confidently despite his lack of response, arching a brow that, once again, provoked him.

"She should be in fine silks and jewels," he said with disapproval.

Sarah huffed.

"If we dressed her as a princess then it wouldn't exactly be a costume. And besides, what kind of three month old wears jewels?"

The way Jareth looked at her let her know he was hoping that question was rhetorical. Sarah wisely chose not to call him out on it.

"We're not royalty tonight, remember?" she said, changing directions as she tickled her happy babe. "And look how freaking cute she is as a fat little pumpkin. You can't tell me she's not the most adorable thing you've ever seen."

Jareth may have arched a curt brow, but he could not bring himself to refute her. Indeed, that dark-haired beauty was a most precious thing.

That moment of gandering may have dragged on longer than either realized. Jareth was the first to tune back in, catching the look of total admiration beaming on Sarah's face.

"Are you sure you're going to be alright?" he asked. Sarah blinked and looked over at him.

"Huh?"

"Being apart from her. Are you sure you'll be okay?"

Sarah blinked rapidly before frowning and looking back down at their daughter. Sarah's arms had instinctively tightened around her at the question. She had to consciously loosen them.

"Of course. It's just one night. I know my parents are competent. It'll be fine."

She spoke with a smile, but the uncertainty in her tone was palpable. Jareth regarded her more seriously.

"If you don't want to be away for that long, we can—"

"No. No, it's Samhain," Sarah cut him off, looking up at him with sudden assurance. "This is the only night when you can do whatever you want, so we should. We've been planning this thing for weeks. I gotta cut the cord at some point, don't I?"

The way she locked eyes with him did little to help her, for his own gaze was filled with scrutiny. She searched him, then pursed her lips and angled her head to the side.

"And besides...you're going to be awfully disappointed if we bail out now. The last two weeks of torture you think you've been putting me through will surely become worthless."

One of Jareth's brows arched sharply.

"Oh, will it?"

Sarah nodded.

"Mhm." And then she leaned in. "Are you still so confident this game won't backfire?"

Jareth's eyes flickered down, and he grinned in that sly way of his as he looked from her face down to her cleavage. Beyond it were two wide eyes gaping up at them, but that was not a detail he acknowledged. He took a small step towards her as he looked to her mouth, the slight tilt of his head scheming but not without invitation. Sarah's tongue darted out and wetted her lips instinctively, which was all the confirmation he needed to know that his efforts of torture would hardly backfire let alone become worthless.

It would get noisy in just a moment or two. They'd hardly have a second of peace, let alone quiet. She was waiting for him, staring up with baited breath and eyes that positively glimmered. Oh, how could he ever refuse such a look?

An odd thought crossed his mind as he leaned down to kiss her: their daughter had her mother's eyes. She would become...quite a bit of trouble when she got older…

"Um, s'cuze us?"

Sarah and Jareth paused mid-lean before turning and blinking dumbly at the audience neither one had noticed was building. A group of children stood on the steps below them, hidden behind masks and hoods, but still so discernibly impatient as they waited for those weird old people to get a move on.

Sarah's mouth opened but no words came.

"Are you going to knock on the door, or….?"

The child at the head of the pack spoke with averted eyes, trying his best to be tactful in a manner that Sarah thought beyond his years. The other children jittered quietly. Sarah spared a quick glance beyond them to see that even more were coming.

"Oh. Um. Sorry. Here, go ahead."

Sarah stepped around to Jareth's side and actually ushered them past her with an extended hand like some hotel doorman. And, if that wasn't bad enough, she may have even hunched her shoulders in a gesture that was remarkably close to a bow. Good god. If the courtiers could see her now... Jareth stood in silence as it happened, more inclined to blame the children than Sarah for her reflexive act of (actually, really quite intriguing) submission.

The thread of frustration that had been tethering them tighter and tighter together seemed to pass that thought directly from him to her as Sarah slyly peered upward at him. Neither said a word, his slanted side eye revealing both nothing and everything.

Sarah looked away sharply, cursing his stupid ability to fluster her with a look alone. This game was getting ridiculous. Undignifying. Like hell she would be the first to give in. Damn him, she thought. And damn her hot face too.

Of course, all that nuance was literally above the children's heads as they focused their attention on the door. One of them knocked, and a prompt hop and shuffle was immediately heard from beyond.

That sounds like Karen's shuffle... Sarah thought —and she instinctively braced.

The door opened and five sets of arms with firmly gripped buckets erected at the ready.

"Trick or treat!"

The group called out with wide smiles seen only through the breathing slots in their masks. A high, feminine squeal was then heard, and it was positively delighted.

"Happy Halloween!" Karen cheered back, boasting her orange knit sweater with the custom tacked bats glittering on the front. She clapped her hands once, jangling her chunky gold bracelets, before reaching over for the candy bowl and offering it as tribute.

"Thank you!" each child said as they took turns grabbing one (or maybe two) fistfuls of candy. Karen smiled at each of them with a thrill that Sarah was only now starting to understand. It was the same kind of look she so often gave to her own daughter. Hm. How interesting.

She didn't seem to notice Sarah and Jareth standing just shy of the doorway, however, which made the moment awkward. Sarah waited for an opening, but...maybe that was a sign to just run—

"Oh! Oh, Sarah! Jareth! Goodness, I didn't even see you there!"

Damn. They dallied too long. Sarah slapped on her happy face and stepped into the light.

"Hey, Karen. Happy Halloween—"

"Come come!" Karen interjected, waving them over while simultaneously grabbing at their sleeves to pull them along. "Get on in here! Oh, I'm so excited. You're here earlier than I expected. Let me see that baby—"

No sooner was the door shut behind them was Karen claiming the crowned princess of the Goblin Kingdom from the very arms of its queen. Sarah relinquished her precious daughter cheerfully. Jareth's eyes, however, were kept narrow on Karen's spider-like hands.

"Oh my goodness. Look how cute! A little pumpkin!" And she brought the baby close to her face to nuzzle their noses together. "Happy Halloween, Lydia. Are you having a good night? You look so pretty in your little costume, yes you do!"

Karen's voice raised at least one octave, which, while annoying to everyone else, made Lydia quite happy. She smiled until the dimples showed, and reached out to try and grasp Karen's face.

"Aw look, she's smiling! Oh, how I have missed you, sweet thing."

She laid her back on her arm and held her close, giving her such powerful goo goo eyes that Sarah wondered if she remembered the two of them were still there at all.

"You're getting so big. Goodness. I don't get to see you enough!"

Sarah rolled her eyes, thinking that, if she saw Karen any more frequently, all the mirrors in the world might mysteriously break.

T'was a thought Jareth shared, it seemed, by the look of accordance they exchanged when their rolling eyes inevitably crossed.

"We just saw you a couple of weeks ago. At lunch?" Sarah reminded. Karen looked up with a pout.

"Exactly. Two whole weeks ago. If you lived a little closer, then maybe we could make more plans—"

"Uh huh. What happened to just don't leave the country?" Sarah teased. Karen shrugged haughtily.

"That was before. Now that I've met this princess here, I'm getting greedy." And she smiled back down at the baby. "And who can blame me? No one. Nope. No one. I'm just a greedy gramma, yes I am. I want to see this pretty little lady alllll the time."

"Well, you're in luck. She's all yours tonight," Sarah said, chuckling to herself as she stepped away from the entryway. Jareth, assuming his role as a proper Aboveground dad to perfection, had been in charge of the diaper bag. Sarah took it from him and moved to set it on the buffet table. "I packed pretty much everything. Make sure to put the bottles in the fridge. There's like, five sets of clothes if she needs them. And make sure you put her to bed no later than seven thirty, and—"

Now it was Karen who rolled her eyes.

"Yes. Yes. I know, Sarah," she said with just a hint of condescension. "I have raised a child before, remember?"

Sarah's deadpan expression was broken only by the arch of one brow.

"Yeah," she replied, thumping a package of diapers onto the table. "Once. Fourteen years ago."

Karen scoffed with a click of the teeth.

"You trying to say I'm rusty? Oh, pshaw. It's like riding a bike." And she bounced baby Lydia happily in her arms. "Tell your mother we're going to be just fine and have so much fun together, aren't we, Lydia? Oh yes we are!"

Sarah crossed her arms as she watched. From her peripheral vision, she could see Jareth had come to do the same.

"She doesn't burp well over the shoulder, so make sure you sit her up," Sarah went on as if the last exchange never happened. "She's not the best sleeper either, so be ready for that. We don't use pacifiers, so if she gets fussy you're on your own—" and then she froze as an intrusive thought sprang up. "On that note, do not let Dad try to give her a few drops of bourbon to get her to sleep."

This time Karen scoffed with a puckered grin.

"Should I be taking notes?" she asked facetiously. A quick glance showed her neither Sarah nor Jareth were particularly amused, so Karen wised up. Just a tad. "Sarah, please, you really think I'd let him do that? Besides, we haven't had actual liquor in this house since the eighties."

Sarah sighed through her nose, a stern eye remaining on her stepmother as she turned and repacked the bag.

"Don't let her sleep on her stomach, and don't give her a blanket either. She'll be warm enough in her pajamas. You said you set up Toby's old crib, right?"

The baby made a grumpy kind of grunt —a feeling they were also steadily falling to.

"Yes, Sarah. I set up the crib right next to my bedside," Karen said. "I also turned your old room into a nursery. You know, for all the times you're going to come visit?"

Sarah had no response to that, which made the sudden thudding down the stairwell beside them a blessed coincidence. Everyone turned on reflex just as Toby came a-galumphing down the stairs.

He was dressed in all black —denim jeans and a cotton sweatshirt with the hood up— with his face painted for the occasion. Blotchy white and green foundation with something black and oily was smeared around his eyes. The addition of a prosthetic gash upon his cheek let them know he was probably a zombie.

"Hey Toby," Sarah said, eager to turn the conversation away from anything Karen.

Toby, blocking out the whole world with that angsty black hood, hadn't realized anyone was there. He flinched and stopped dead just before hitting the bottom of the stairs.

"Oh. Hey Sarah," he said, sparing her a smile before his eyes shifted over to Jareth. "...hey Jareth."

"Toby, come look at your niece. Isn't she so cute?!"

Karen stepped forward and lifted her arms. Toby drew back a touch, his brow tight but still tactful.

"Uh, yeah...super cute."

His apprehension was disregarded by everyone.

"See? I told you," Sarah said, peering over her shoulder at Jareth quite smugly.

"Oh? Jareth, do you not like her costume?" Karen asked.

Jareth, having been perfectly content to idle in the back well and out of any conversation, did his best not to sigh before replying.

"I think something with a touch of elegance would be more fitting," he said.

"Yeah. Gourds are uncouth. Unworthy, even," Sarah tacked on, taking extra fun in teasing him by locking with his slanted stare and giving him a, so very defiant, grin.

Jareth blinked at her slowly. Where she saw conceit, he saw mischief. If anything was to backfire tonight, it would be her careless goading. Ah, but that was fine. The ghostlike smirk he could not help but give in return was promise enough of all the dark, decrepit things she'd have to repay him with in the night to come.

"Well of course it isn't," Karen replied, once again inserting herself into a moment where she just did not belong. Reluctantly, Sarah blinked away from Jareth and gave her attention back to her stepmother. "Nothing will ever be worthy. She's your precious baby girl!"

Feeling that his company was no longer obligated, Toby seized the moment to duck and hustle his way towards the door.

"Oh. Are you going out now, Toby?" Karen asked —as quick as a damn whip.

Toby paused and glanced back.

"Uh, yeah. Is that alright?" he asked, then eyed Sarah as if she was the one to grant him permission. Clearly he was expecting to be detained from the follies of his youth by the long-winded courtesies of entertaining his older sister and her new, super cute family. The fact that such dialogue passed so palpably unto her from that quick look of panic made Sarah feel not only uncool, but old in a way that she had never experienced before.

And then the fright set in.

Oh...no. What was this right now? Was it the other side of the hill? At twenty-nine? Dear God, it was, wasn't it? There she was, standing with a pink, floral print bag big enough to fit the whole of China while wearing cushioned loafers concealing two mismatched socks. Her hair was in a bun because that was easiest, and she might have chosen to wear a chunky-knit sweater that day (oh god, did it match Karen's?) because it just plain felt good to be comfortable. She didn't bother to wear any makeup. She'd just have to redo it before the party anyway...

But that...that didn't mean anything, right?

Should she shout at him that they were going to a rave tonight? Should she tell him she was still hip and vivacious, and totally didn't get excited on days when she was able to hit the sack by nine o'clock?!

Jesus Christ, she was only making herself feel worse. She was an adult now. When the fuck did that happen?

Sarah compensated for that split second of existential dread by smiling as wide as possible and shooing him quickly out the door.

"Of course. It's Halloween. Go have fun!" she said.

Strain showed in her smile, but it wasn't something anyone else picked up on. Toby, not needing to be told twice, sighed in relief before turning swiftly towards the door.

"You are going to have fun, aren't you?" Karen called out. Toby froze yet again. "Good, wholesome, getting candy kind of fun?"

Toby stood with shoulders crouched, his brow scrunching as he looked to the walls for the correct answer.

"….yeah?" he said.

Karen's mouth puckered up in that disapproving way of hers, her whole aura a total 180 from what it was a moment ago.

"And that bag is empty and not filled with eggs and shaving cream, right?" she asked. "You remember what I said will happen if I hear you were out egging cars tonight, yes? No more games. No more allowance. No more talking on the phone with that Susan girl when you think we've all gone to sleep—"

"Okay! Okay! Geez Mom, will you just stop?!" Toby cut her off, eyes alight and flighty with cheeks reddening despite the thick layer of foundation caking them. Weirdly, it was Jareth whom he kept looking at, seeming to shrink in embarrassment as if Jareth had enough investment to form an opinion on the matter at all.

"I'm just going to hang out with Steven and Jake—"

"Hang out? Then why did you paint your face? Why do you need the bag?" Karen asked, her suspicion unrelenting.

Toby looked down at the large bag he carried. He may have stiffened (a sign of irrefutable guilt! Karen would say), but it was hard to tell his accompanying expression beneath all that make up. A split second passed. Sarah thought she heard him mumble something uncouth under his breath.

"Ugh. You know what I mean! We're going trick or treating, alright?!" and he turned around swiftly lest the humiliation progress any further. Sarah wondered when he got to be so emotional. "Bye," he said curtly, before storming out the door and closing it promptly shut behind him.

The force of it was not quite a slam, but it did send a little rumble through the foyer. Sarah wasn't sure what to say. That seemed like a scene. She could only wonder what Jareth was making of it.

"Hmph. You see him getting all puffed up like that?" Karen asked, all a fluster like she was the victim there. "—thinks he's such a big man now that he's fourteen. Too old for kid games he says, but still young enough to trick or treat, I see! And then, somehow, he has the gall to get all embarrassed and mad at me about it? Bah! He's even gotta show off in front of Jareth now, too."

She was shaking her head in exasperation. Sarah drew back quizzically.

"Huh?"

Sarah peered up at Jareth then. Predictably, he wasn't entirely paying attention —his gaze lost amidst the faux cobwebs that stretched over the walls (The suave, Gentleman J of Easter had since come to be reserved for as needed, you see). Karen's demeanor, however, went from exhausted to sly in a wink.

"Oh, did you not notice?" she asked baitingly. Jareth made the mistake of looking over and crossing gazes with her —she latched on like a tick. "He really thinks the world of you, Jareth," she said, her coy smile betraying the giddiness she secretly felt over the fact. "Just thinks you're so cool and dashing."

Both Sarah and Jareth doubted dashing was a word Toby had ever used, but neither bothered to speak it. They simply remained —Karen wasn't done yet.

"I think you've become something like a hero figure to him. I think it's adorable, really. He wants to be just like you."

Jareth did his best not to grin —not to grin widely, to be accurate— and slyly looked over at Sarah.

"Oh?" was his humble response.

"Try not to tease him," Karen went on, speaking to the both of them now. "We just don't have anyone so accomplished and cultured in our family. You've got yourself a fan, Jareth. I swear, that boy asks about you more than his own sister."

In the very brief interlude that followed that statement, Sarah wondered what exactly Jareth had done to become a role model, let alone a hero, to Toby (and, oh, that conceited grin still twinkling at her from out her peripheral let her know just how gratified Jareth was by the irony). Of course, his delight was baseless because she determined the answer was absolutely nothing. Nothing in the way of acts, at least. Jareth had only seen them a couple of times since Easter, so...was it the accent? The mystique? The fact that he didn't wear plaid? Or was it…

No. No. There was no way Toby remembered him from back then...right?

"Karen, what was that bang? Who are you talking to?"

Sarah blinked out of her musing at the sound of her father's voice resonating from the hall around the corner. A moment later, the man himself appeared. Surprise had his brow shooting up when he saw her, but it quickly turned into a smile. "Oh. Sarah. You're here."

He took those few steps towards her awkwardly —in that way one does when you're not sure if you should hug or shake. Sarah didn't mind, however; that was just him.

"Hi, Dad," she said, and relieved him of his indecision by initiating the hug herself. He patted her twice on the shoulder, then stood straight when turning and shaking Jareth's hand. T'was a gesture Sarah still felt perplexed by. So strange and uncanny. Her dad, Rumpled Grumpled Robert, shaking hands with the actual King of the Goblins?

What was even more surreal was Jareth's response —a polite, though not totally insincere, smile and nod. Formal greetings in the form of names were exchanged, and then it was over, like ripping off a band-aid or...pulling teeth.

A part of her hoped maybe Jareth and her dad would form an honest to goodness relationship one day, but she wasn't exactly holding her breath.

With courtesies out of the way, Robert was allowed to divert his attention —and latent cheer, it would seem— to Lydia.

"Oh, she's up? Hello, princess—" He reached out and let Lydia grab onto a finger, then placed his free hand lightly to Karen's back. The way he smiled downward made Sarah weirdly happy. Seeing the three of them standing there like that was like a blast from the past, but she was glad she could better appreciate the image this time around. "So, how was the drive up? She okay in the car for that long?" Robert asked, gently pulling himself free and turning to face Sarah.

"Yeah. It's only a 45 minute drive. She slept the whole time," Sarah replied.

45 minute drive? Instantaneous teleportation?

Same difference, right?

"Oh that's good!" Karen beamed, lifting up on her toes in excitement. "That means we can play before bedtime!" She clutched Lydia close and muttered something cutsie at her, turning on her heel as if to dash away. Sarah looked over at her father.

"Make sure she doesn't go overboard, okay?"

Robert huffed and rolled his eyes as if it were reflex.

"Oh believe me, I know," he said. All three looked over to watch as Karen walked away with the baby, murmuring promises and presents while her body did a little jig. It made Sarah huff with laughter. Jareth, however, had the eyes of a hawk —something that Sarah could not help but appreciate.

He was such a protective father. As overbearing as he could be, she'd be a damn dirty liar to say it wasn't a huge fucking turn on.

"It does make her so happy though—" Robert said...was saying...what? Sarah twitched out of her immediate (and shamefully intense) sexual fantasy to her perfectly wholesome and —thank the fucking Lord— unsuspecting father. Sarah's eyes widened in a fleeting half second of panic, but he was just smiling at her none the wiser. "You three really should come down more often. Or maybe even invite us up there, for once."

It was at that very moment that Sarah realized Jareth's hand was resting against her lower back. Hand...yes, hand. But the fingers? Ah, those stupid, dexterous, sinfully bare fingers were inching up her sweater and tapping the base of her spine.

Is he reading my fucking thoughts? she wondered for the umpteenth time. Is he INSIDE MY MIND?!

"Yeah, yeah. Life hasn't exactly been calm the last few months," Sarah said, playing it all off while stealthily side-stepping away from Jareth's touch. "We'll invite you over soon. Okay?" She smiled like it was natural, like everything her reality was built on wasn't one massive lie.

True to his word, Jareth did in fact procure her a house in the Above —not too close, but not too far from her bemoaned and beloved parents. It was not too big, nor too small, too fancy, nor too homely. It was nestled into the woods, without a neighbor for miles, without a passing jogger or stray dog to remark on the fact that it was nearly always empty.

Sarah had spent a whopping 99% of her time in the Underground since Christmas. Her ambition as a modern career woman had all but immediately vanished, and was now being replaced with her duties as Queen. There was much to learn, much to do, and much to celebrate. And, despite the long days and even longer nights with sleepless Lydia, she found she preferred it, entirely, to the drab metal and concrete towers, cheap burnt coffee, and passive aggressive memos that came together as office life in the Above.

Still, she had an image to keep up —which revolved predominantly around the house. She'd invited her family over once when they first moved in. It was a nice time, filled with all the bells and whistles of a proper housewarming. Jareth played his part well too. …very well, in fact. Honestly, his skill at acting like a regular, human dude was so good it was sometimes suspicious —but anyway.

After that, living there became something of a chore. Her ability to use mirrors as portals made travel as easy as crossing the hall, so she did her best to stop in to dust, check the mail and messages, and maybe even move things around to give it that lived in vibe in case Karen opted for a surprise visit. It also served as a nice respite for their little family of three when things in the castle got too hectic. Jareth needed to be summoned and a contract formed to cross over, but not Lydia. At least, not yet.

Sarah had learned —after a night of spontaneous panic three days before her due date— that fae children were not bound to the rules of wishes until they were competent enough to both understand and fulfill a contract, which usually happened between the ages of eight and twelve. It was another part of the curse his kind lived under, but that had happened so many generations ago that now it was simply seen as a rite of passage. A fae was not fully fledged until they could go longer cross into other worlds, she'd been told. It meant their magic was awakening and their minds expanding.

While Sarah suffered a detached sense of worry for the day when her daughter could no longer pass with her through the mirror, she was immensely relieved by the knowledge that she had about a decade to figure out and solidify how the hell she was going to keep up the human act with Grandma Karen begging to come to normal and totally expected events such as musical recitals and bake sales and sports games and— No. No. We're not worrying about that right now, remember?

In the present, it was all quite easy. They were busy being new parents. They didn't have time to answer the phone every time it rang, let alone go out or have eager dinner guests. For now, they had two whole worlds to themselves, and, after stepping into she and Jareth's private home with their happy accident cooing in her arms that very first time, she couldn't help but find the idea of wishing him through the veil with desires as mundane as spending the day together, or simply getting away from it all to be wildly romantic.

Sarah's wandering thoughts reminded her just how nice getting away was going to be tonight in particular, and she felt her feet suddenly inching towards the door.

"Well...I guess we should get going then?" she said, turning the inflection in that statement up at Jareth with eyes that were too round and too eager to be refused. Jareth was about to respond when Karen's big feathered head poked around the corner.

"What? You're leaving already?" she asked, quickly shuffling back towards them. Lydia had some new toy in her hands —her eyes in fierce concentration trying to rotate it.

"Uh...yeah?" Sarah said.

Karen's jaw dropped open.

"But it's so early!" she said, her feathers all a'ruffled. "Why don't you two stay for dinner?"

The corner of Sarah's eye may have twitched, but she was at least tactful enough not to outright grimace.

"Um...well...we kind of have plans," she said, averting her eyes awkwardly. "We have...to check into our hotel still and uh….get ready for the party."

"Well how long can that really take you?" Karen asked, taking on that pointed tone that would not be trifled with. "It's barely six o'clock. Besides, it'll be better to get some good food in you beforehand. You're going to be drinking, yes?"

Sarah glanced briefly at Jareth.

"Um…"

"I'm going to assume you haven't had a drop of alcohol in a year, so you'll definitely need a hardy meal in you," Karen went on. Sarah had no rebuttal. "It's just about done, too. I was setting the table right before you got here." And, just to drive the notion home, she turned that good-natured —and entirely underhanded— smile over to Jareth. "What do you say, Jareth?"

Sarah peered up slyly at Jareth, her own nerves having been brought into submission by two decades of motherly insistence. It would be up to him to tell Karen no now —which was better anyway. He had a knack for disregarding trivial matters with both swiftness and charm.

Jareth smiled in that polite, practiced way of his. The words that came out of his mouth, however, sent her reeling.

"I think that sounds lovely, . Thank you."

Sarah gapped with an honest to God open mouth.

"Wha— but I thought we—"

Treachery! Deceit! Betrayal abound! Sarah practically threw up her hands and shoved him out the door. How could he do such a thing? How could he stand there with such a believable smile and volunteer them for one of her stepmother's studiously prepared, yet still thoroughly god-awful dinners? They had a date! They had plans! They had a night, after three long months, all to themselves! Every minute wasted on that threshold was a minute less they had to get fucked. So why would he—

Oh.

Oh this was part of the game, wasn't it?

Sarah cut her outburst short and just stared at him, every thought and violent impulse playing loudly and with lividity across her face. Oh, and how that look of wild panic pleased him. An artful side eye caught her own as he placed a hand to her back and guided her forward.

"Come along, darling," he said, and that grin positively gleamed. "Don't be rude."

Oh, so that's how it was going to be, eh? Patience and propriety? Fine. Two could play at that.

Sarah turned back to her parents with the same happy lie on her face, saying that dinner would be great and she was actually kind of starving and they had plenty of time before the party anyway so it would be nice to stay for a while.

No one needed to know what she was really hungry for. Her right foot tapped incessantly as her parents preceded them into the dining room.

Jareth went to follow them —as if he could escape her that easily.

Once her parents were out of view, Sarah hooked an arm around his and pulled him into the kitchen.

"What do you think you're playing at?" she asked, whispered, demanded with a huff.

Jareth regarded her innocently.

"Hm?"

Sarah rolled her eyes, crossing her arms and puffing up her chest. Impatience was soon to boil over. How dare he stand there so well composed.

"You were supposed to say no. I know there is no way you'd rather spend your Samhain eating dinner with my parents than going apeshit at a faerie rave."

"Going, what?" Jareth asked, brow rising in amusement. Sarah narrowed her eyes on him, leaning in close like the secrets might be seen between the shards in his irises.

"What are you scheming?" she asked.

The kitchen was empty, save them, and her parents were somewhere doing something well out of earshot. Sarah realized this a moment too late. There were indeed secrets in those slivers. She saw them darken his eyes as he inclined his head towards her.

"Now, what kind of question is that?" Jareth asked, his voice going smooth as he took a smell step towards her. Sarah took one in reverse, knowing well enough to be intimidated by the shift in his posture.

She bumped into the kitchen island and stiffened. Deep down, she knew she'd asked for this. Still, there was fun in playing meek.

She kept her eyes low when he placed his hands to the counter on either side of her, bending low to run his nose along her cheek.

"Do you remember our accord?" he asked. She shivered. "It was so long ago; I wouldn't be surprised if you've forgotten."

Sarah swallowed and steeled herself, eyes trained on the doorway should they be suddenly interrupted. Of course, that wasn't the only reason she wouldn't face him. Her cheeks were getting hot already.

"It's been sixteen days," she said, her voice light and uneven. Jareth grinned and let go of the counter, one hand touching her waist and squeezing as it pulled up her sweater.

"Exactly. So...long…ago."

She held her breath when his hand touched the underside of her breast, her fingers curling against the lip of the counter where she supported herself. He'd inched up her sweater in his grip, exposing her stomach and her ribs and a little peak of her cranberry colored bra. His hand angled down just a smidge next. Just enough for his fingers to touch the bare skin there.

"We should stop," Sarah said, fighting for decisiveness. "Karen or my dad could come in here any second."

"And I'm sure they will," Jareth replied, reaching under her sweater to feel her swollen breast while a soft kiss landed on her neck.

Sarah's eyes closed. There was just no helping it. She'd become desperate for these touches, even knowing full well that they would cease just as quickly. She took in a deeper breath as her neck arched into his kiss. For a moment, nothing else existed.

"Does the thought of exposure arouse you?" he asked, teasing her. Sarah turned her head closer to him.

"Not really," she whispered back.

His thumb rubbed circles over her nipple through her bra. His tongue on her neck licked sensually. He could seduce her far too easily these days. It really had been so long…

"No?" Jareth asked, adjusting his stance as he wedged himself between her legs. "But you're making such pretty sounds."

She started to lift one of her legs, pulling him into her as she squeezed the edge of the counter with her hands. Her head turned towards him even more, prompting him to pull back and face her. Her eyes were so misty they were boundless, and the part in her lips practically begged him to kiss her…

"I want...to go to the party," she said, licking her lower lip as it touched his —just barely. He felt the wetness pass to him from her tongue, and almost gave in.

"Then I suggest…" he whispered, angling his head as if to kiss her. Sarah's mouth opened wider. "You answer my question."

Sarah inhaled sharply, biting down on her lip as he kept himself hovered just a hair's breadth from her. That hand of his was inching up, pulling at her bra strap until it fell down her shoulder.

"...I remember," she said, then swallowed. "You've made it impossible to forget. But...it's Samhain now. We don't need to play anymore."

He watched her eyes flicker over his face, another show of impatience that matched the fluster in her voice. His response was an ominous hum, something she failed to suspect when he finally opened his mouth and kissed her.

He came on sweet, came on slowly —the kind of kiss you have to close your eyes for. The kind that melted away your problems and stress and the world itself. Sarah's hands left the counter and wrapped around his neck, deepening it as she pulled herself closer. His hands moved down to her waist, wrapping around to her lower back and cementing there.

But a kiss had become a dangerous thing. It was not only the promise, but the expectation of something more. Something...that he still would not give her.

"Jareth…" she whispered, trying her best to seduce him.

"Yes?" he replied, kissing her lightly again while his hands felt down over her ass. She gave him a murmur, a light little plea in tandem with a pair of fidgeting knees. She wanted him to touch her more. To touch her harder. It took all his will to resist. "Do you want more?" he asked. She answered with a kiss. "Hm...are you frustrated yet?"

Sarah scowled and gripped her hands tighter, biting on his lip which she could feel curling in a grin.

"Yes," she said, fingers fisting tightly in the back of his hair. "I've been frustrated, you ass."

Jareth chuckled softly as he felt his way up her back.

"Ah, but are you desperate? Ready to admit defeat, perhaps?"

Sarah did her best not to growl but couldn't stop the motion of her eyes rolling. He might have her like a puppet on strings, but he wasn't exactly untangled from them. She could feel him as well. Feel certain things betraying that steady veneer, firmly.

"Heh. In your dreams," she said, pulling back arrogantly with an arch of the brow.

Jareth smiled at her widely, wickedly, challengingly.

"How fortuitous then," he said, and brought her around to the back of the island, creating some means of privacy as he stood closely behind her. "...that I have the power to make dreams come true."

He was good with lines, even when they were cheesy. She blamed it on his accent, or maybe on the way he was able to drop his voice so salaciously with zero effort. Sarah found her hands in fists atop the counter again, an effort not to either slap him away or throw him up against the fridge when he reached around and undid the button on her jeans.

One hand held her hip while the other slipped inside, under her jeans and her underwear, down to run just one finger over her slit. She opened for him without any resistance at all, the tip of his finger wet from that simple, delicate touch.

She breathed through her nose when that finger pushed inside, somehow feeling so very deep despite the angle.

She had to close her eyes and brace there while he played with her. She wanted to give in, to get worked up —to get even more worked up— but she held back. She knew that he would pull his hand away. She knew it undoubtedly, and yet...still had to conceal a pout of disappointment when that tormenting touch left her too soon and her jeans were rebuttoned.

"I told you that snicker would cost you dearly," he said to her, running his hands over her groin. Sarah swayed from the motion. "And, believe me, I have not even begun to collect my payment."

Sarah wetted her lips and stood tall, playing off her fluster stoically. She would never admit to being subdued by him. She was just greedy, she might say. A masochist. She wanted that feeling of dissatisfaction and let him toy with her —t'was a better look for her pride. Of course, those claims were only half bolster, for she also knew the kind of joys that came with being properly subdued, and was eager —no— ready, so very ready to have it finally happen again.

And again and again and— fuck. They were still in her parent's kitchen, weren't they?

Sarah took the opportunity to reach between them, eyes regaining focus on the doorway as the sound of laughter and baby squeals echoed down the hall.

"And yet…" she whispered, finding his erection, already so hard, pressed like a blade down his thigh. "...something tells me…" and she stroked that length firmly. "...I'm still going to win."

Jareth growled softly in the back of his throat, thrusting into her hand with no shame at all. Slowly, he brought both hands to the countertop, caging her once more while she returned his favors. She noticed the way his fists curled back, noticed the way they touched the granite lightly despite the tension building there. So, she was not the only one forcing themselves to hold back? Sarah found it interesting how it was that little detail alone and not the breath at her ear, or the flexing of his cock in her hand that gave her a feeling of superiority.

"Sarah? Are you two in here?"

Sarah let go of Jareth and placed both hands palm flat on the counter so fast the motion ended with a slap! Karen appeared promptly in the doorway not two-tenths of a second later, the baby bouncing in her clutches looking nothing shy of bewildered.

"Yep!" Sarah practically shouted, eyes wide and grin strained even wider as she stared, unblinkingly, at her. Karen paused with a little jolt in the doorway. Something...felt awkward here. Her eyes shifted conspicuously from side to side.

"...have I interrupted something?" she asked, one thin brow arching as she looked between the two. Sarah was standing stiff with that trademarked "shit, she caught me" look that Karen had so often ran into in Sarah's youth. Jareth meanwhile, (standing behind her for some reason?) looked perfectly candid. A little quiet, but...he wasn't much of a talker anyway.

"W-what?" Sarah asked, bumping into Jareth as she instinctively tried to flee. He was like a brick wall behind her, however, which only made the moment even more awkward. She realized in that split second that he probably needed her as a shield. The counter provided good cover for her, but Jareth was tall and...well… "No. Not at all," Sarah prattled, playing it cool. "What's up? Is dinner ready?"

What's up? Karen internally repeated. Oh yes. Something awkward, indeed.

Karen was eerily silent for a moment, deciding what to do with the fact that she was apparently the only one aware of the bright red blush on Sarah's nose. A few years ago, she'd have scowled and told them to get their butts in the dining room. In the present however—

She wouldn't exactly object to having a couple more grandkids to fawn over, so...she'd let this one go.

"Yes. I just came to get some napkins. Bring them in, will you?" she asked, then —in a most uncharacteristically concise fashion— turned around and left.

Sarah let out the breath she'd been holding and deflated, taking the moment to settle her nerves before peering up at Jareth. The look he was met with was a total contrast to the confident, aggressive demoness he'd just been seduced by. Meek was the word for it. Still, such cuteness was a different kind of enchantment. He cracked a smirk, then gave her a playful squeeze on the rear.

"Eat fast," he told her, then casually strode away.

And eat fast, she did. Eat fast and talk little, and pretend she wasn't sitting there jittering in anticipation of poofing the fuck out of there. Jareth kept a gentle hand on her thigh all throughout —the limey fuck.

She managed to muddle through, however, and eventually they were heading out the door. Goodnight kisses were placed to a drowsy Lydia's head, along with a genteel peck on the hand from Jareth as she gripped his index finger, refusing to let go.

For as excited as she was, Sarah found it incredibly difficult to leave her at that moment. Her feet struggled to inch, and she kept glancing back with a look of worry, finding more and more things to say and precautions to take. She didn't think Jareth would have objected if she suddenly changed her mind, but….no. No, she needed a little separation. They needed it.

She used his hand at her back as a means to push herself out the door, smiling and waving and still fretting all the way down the steps.

"Goodbye! Have fun!" Karen called out.

Jareth paused, looking back over his shoulder with the first honest expression he'd ever given her.

"Oh, we will."

---

Take your time, he said. Try to relax.

Enjoy the quiet, he whispered. ...while you still can.

Famous last words from the fearsome Goblin King lingered in Sarah's ear, put there by that low, sensual drawl and the careful graze of a fingertip along the lobe.

He made her shiver at the end, and she knew that he knew and he'd done so on purpose. Naturally, he left then and there, taking a dramatic exit only to find his mark down in the depths of center stage.

And there he would wait, she told herself. There they would all wait.

Before long, Sarah found herself sitting alone in a chair, staring vacantly at the textureless white wall to the side of her while a pair of mechanical syphons worked their magic in relieving the painful swelling of her breasts. She'd tried to feed Lydia right before they left, but the little thing wanted no part of it. *Le sigh* —good thing she decided to pack her pump after all.

It wasn't what she would call relaxing, per say, but...the quiet was nice.

She stared with pursed lips, mind going blank as it filled with the shrill, sucking sound made by the motor working in perfect rhythm.

Beneath that sound, she could feel rather than hear the reverberation of the base from the party several floors below. The way that distant thump aligned with the swish of her breast pump was, by far, not in perfect rhythm.

The discordance was making her antsy.

Sarah sighed roughly and sat back in her seat, remarking that this whole setup was comical to an asinine degree. Never, in all her life, did sweet and starry-eyed Sarah Williams foresee herself draining her boobs alone in some makeshift penthouse in preparation for a transdimensional orgy/rave.

She was only glad Jareth had chosen to find somewhere else to get ready. Best to leave some mystery between them…

She let out a deep sigh as the ache gradually abated, reaching up to massage her armpits to help work out every last drop. She didn't want to have to do this again until the morning, knowing full well what would happen should her drunken self try to juggle all those bottles and tubes. Jareth probably wouldn't mind though… No. No. Best not to indulge him.

In the effort to fight off boredom, she turned and glanced around the room once more, taking in all its little intricacies that might fool the common drunk into believing it had always been a 5 star hotel. There was a dresser (classic), a coffee table (at the perfect height to kneel over, she noted), a couch (obvious), a chaise (obnoxious), a little dining table set for two by the window (cute), and, of course, the bed.

It was larger than a standard king because it was not meant for a standard king. Oh, how short that joke had fallen when Jareth dropped her off there twenty minutes prior. It had several layers of blankets and downy looking pillows. Sarah figured that was for her sake, and imagined that the mattress underneath was made of a bright red leather. It had posts too. Metal. Something sturdy enough to handle the tension of a few tethered limbs….she imagined.

If one looked closely enough, one might see a whole assortment of manmade innuendo creeping forth from the décor. A shag carpet covered the spot of floor in front of the bed. The curve of the back of the couch provided very little in the way of neck support. The curtains had ties made of a shiny, and undoubtedly comfortable, golden silk rope. Subtle? No. But was it an upgrade from the Pine-sol scented ottoman from last year? Absolutely. And her favorite detail? Why, it was the pale, pink orchid standing atop the end table over there that was 100% put out for purely aesthetic reasons.

Ah, but jokes aside, what got Sarah the most excited was the mini fridge. Yes. That's right. Mini fridge —already stocked with bottled water for the morning and now both tomorrow's breakfast and lunch for Miss Lydia. Huzzah!

When she was finally finished, Sarah cleaned up her station and headed over towards the bed. She'd tossed her costume there earlier to let the latex breathe. …or was it some kind of leather? Pleather?!

Maybe it was spandex. Her brain was a few cells short these days.

All she knew was that it was shiny and, given the new dimensions of her ass, a solid gleam was to her advantage.

Not that she needed any embellishment to catch Jareth's eye...but it might feel nice to catch a few others along the way.

She picked up the corset first and inspected it, wondering if the skimpy material and factory grade stitching would be up to snuff. She and Jareth had decided to keep their costumes a surprise from one another (hence her current isolation) and, given his penchant for showmanship, she was suddenly doubting the competence of that poorly designed web boutique she'd randomly stumbled across.

Alas, in the words of her most trusted sages, the helping hands, it was too late now.

Despite the insistence of some eager beavers —oops, she meant pleasant, delightful, and not at all brown-nosing courtiers— Sarah readied on her own, even showing the audacity (oh, the audacity!) to do her own hair and makeup. 30 minutes later and she was done, smacking her lips in the vanity mirror just to admire the way that glossy sheen wiggled across them. A ruffle of the hair was her final touch, giving those straight as an arrow strands just the right level of disarray.

She stood and looked herself over in the mirror. Her dark, smoky eyes burned bright back at her as they lowered over her reflection, one eyebrow quirking at how bodacious she'd become. Even on empty, her breasts were a force to be reckoned with, and *dang* shiny, red spandex(?) had absolutely been the right choice.

Her confidence renewed as she checked herself out, turning around once or twice just to break in the shoes.

From over her shoulder, her eyes moved up the length of the black garter straps that ran up the back of her thighs straight to her corset and…

Oh yeah. Enjoy the quiet while YOU can, Jareth. He'd be thankful to have her heel twisting into his cock by the time she was done with him.

---

A springy ding! and the closing of elevator doors would bring her to the depths of hell this year, and, despite the awkwardness of riding alone while dressed as a stripper, it was a much more pleasant ambience from last time.

At least it wasn't moist. God...anything but moist.

They were in a different building, of course. Jareth had rented some upscale joint (as Rachel would put it) in the downtown area of her childhood residence. By Sarah's insistence, a proper health inspection was conducted this time before any leases were signed. No one but her seemed to understand why water stains and mildew growing in near proximity to raw electrical wiring might be bad —it was just for one night, after all— but she got her way. Aside from being, you know, Queen, she was able to finesse all of her —100% practical— requests to fruition under the simple and weirdly effective guise of adding that feminine touch. It was also only about a twenty minute drive to her parents' house, not that that mattered given the powers of teleportation, but the delusion was nice for Karen's sake.

The building itself was a retired paint factory. It'd been used for random popups and galleries over the years, so at least it was somewhat reputable...

That thought trickled out slowly as the light in the elevator suddenly flickered and the carriage shook. Sarah held her breath for a split second but dismissed it as ambiance.

The thudding of music grew louder as she passed each floor, making her think that they could have done a little better with the soundproofing. That had been Reginald's department...she'd have to scold him about it tomorrow.

The doors opened to a poorly lit hall with plain beige walls and a blood red carpet. She walked by her lonesome down the length of it, feeling more judgmental than curious. These hallways wouldn't be highly trafficked, but some colored lights or cobwebs, at the very least, would have been nice. Who was in charge of décor again?

Sarah stopped dead and shook her head. She was taking this too seriously. She wasn't even on the dance floor yet and —oh God— was she going to be nitpicking the entire night?

Maybe that was why Jareth had said try to relax.

The hallway eventually let out to a foyer —the second foyer, actually, just passed check-in. It was round with the same dark red carpeting. The walls, however, were refinished with dark, wooden paneling. There were artful recesses carved into them in intervals around the space, and from them creeped the forms of solid wood gargoyles, reaching out from the façade like wretched, agonized things pleading for help. Sconces were held in some of their hands, but the artificial light glowing from them did not imitate that of flame. No, it was a shade and a hue more unnerving. Warmer. Darker. Deeper. A kind of light that hovered and was bright only at its center.

Best not to look directly into them, Jareth had warned. T'was part the guile.

Across from her was a hall leading to more rooms. To the right was the door concealing the receptionist. Although she had not seen who it was, she knew it was not the same blue fairy from last time. Apparently desk duty was a punishment reserved for that one, unfortunate fae who happened to irritate Jareth the most that year.

To the left, however, was her destination. A wide set of double doors waited to greet her, finished and reinforced to look authentic to an intimidating degree. This way to the dungeons, those doors beckoned, and, given the ritual circle she now seemed to be standing in, she believed it.

Whoever was in charge of this room got an A+.

More than the sound of bass could be heard from beyond the two doors: a layering of lyric and sharp melody building up the vibrations. It was an echo that reminded her of before, of the feeling of confusion and anticipation she'd harbored when facing those padded red doors that were, in many respects, identical to the ones she stood before now. She took a moment to bask in the nostalgia, realizing that, in retrospect, that had been a defining moment in her life. The decision to open them despite her skepticism and step forward with her head held high…

And look at where she was now: in such a similar place —in a vastly different position— but with her head held even higher.

Despite their apparent weight, the doors opened by the slightest push of her hand. Like a bursting dam, a great wave of riot swept suddenly over her. The music flooded forth, engulfing and pulling her into its vacuum. It was fast, and it was gritty, a kind of beat that vibrated against the back of your teeth as heat filled your eyes. It made you want to move. To grin. To look slyly at all the pretty faces whose eyes could only lower in return.

Sarah stepped forward, a hand on her hip as she looked leisurely from left to right. The shadowed edges of the room were even darker than last year, which kept her well concealed there by the door. The light —the only light— shone from the pit and the DJ booth standing like an altar overlooking it.

The rim of the dancefloor was lined with red neon, combining with a slow moving fog to make a heated glow that seemed to resonate from beneath the very earth itself. The booth at the back was painted black by the sheer intensity of the light show moving in synchrony to the music behind it. Spanning from either side were platforms upon which go-go dancers spun on poles. They were so close to the lights and so far removed from the crowd that their forms were rendered complete silhouettes. Beams of white, yellow, and gold made for a vibrant flame around them, filling the entire back wall and dwarfing the dancefloor with an inferno-like intensity. Inferno and flames were choice descriptors, Sarah thought. Hell was the theme, after all.

This building boasted two bars, one on each side of the room. There was no loft or private suites like last year, however. Sarah had opted for a touch more refinement, and fiscal efficiency, by turning the upper three floors into rentable hotel rooms.

Every single one of those rooms was now booked and paid for, by the way —not that she was bragging or anything.

She saw goblins swinging from cables that hung along the ceiling as she walked towards the dancefloor. There was enchantment at work tonight, but she knew the difference now between being fooled and affected. They laughed and cackled and moaned a sound that rivaled the tenor of the music but, oh, it was something she was long since used to.

Their laughter was infectious —a sickness she'd fallen prey to from her time Underground— and she found her lips curling up at one end. Backlight made the sea of dancers crackle like dying flame, the ripple-like movement making her muse over that sinister something that brewed in those embers. Something conniving and delicious that peeked from between the tangled bodies of dancers like the eager eyes of so many goblins.

As Sarah stared, waxing poetic over the room, she wondered what exactly was getting her so worked up. Surely it wasn't just the music, or the energy, or the secret power she knew she held over it? She hadn't even been noticed yet. Hadn't even had the chance to turn up her nose and sway her hips.

Maybe the fog was getting to her. ...it was cherry flavored.

She took careful steps as she entered the dancefloor, not so much to mind her balance, but to mind her figure as gazes turned and fell her way.

Their subservience made her grin renew. A year ago none of them had noticed her. None of them had particularly cared. She was a lamb among wolves. But now, with knowing and swagger and glittering red horns atop her head, she was the predator. She was the one lurking in the midst, searching for that other sharp-eyed creature that so loved to lurk and prowl back.

So where was he? she wondered. That mysterious, incredibly frustrated thing?

She walked deeper into the crowd, her mere presence parting it like a sea. Nearby faefolk would dip their heads as she passed, their human partners bewitched and ignorant of any gesture that was not meant for them. But among them she saw no one. No one who was worth finding, anyway.

She figured his costume would make him easy to spot. An angel among demons? White, fluffy wings and a halo? He ought to stick out like a sore thumb in all this black and red...

As she turned all around, searching the bar and the booths and the gyrating figures in between, she realized that her interpretation of an angel might, and probably was, vastly different from Jareth's. Angels and Devils seemed like a cute couple's costume at the time and, after Jareth lost that pivotal coin toss committing him to the ironic and vastly inferior role of angel, she really thought he wouldn't be this hard to find.

Unless he was avoiding her.

Stalking her back.

He might not even be dressed up as an angel for all she knew.

The scoundrel.

Standing there in the middle of the crowd doing nothing was starting to get awkward, which had her regretting not sneaking a peek at his costume beforehand. She had no idea what she was even looking for. Would he have wings? That would make him stand out. Angels at the very least had wings, right?

A passing waitress dressed as a demoness walked by her. Sarah recognized her and called out.

"Hey, Danika," she said, and the teeny demon Lady froze before looking over with an immediate grin.

"Oh! Your Majesty!" she replied, then bounced on over, tray of complimentary jello shots tight in hand. "Forgive me, I didn't see you there! Are you enjoying the party?!"

Someone unfamiliar with Danika might have assumed she was yelling because of the music, but that was just Danika.

"I've just arrived, actually," Sarah said, sparing a glance to the side. "But I think it turned out well so far. Have you seen Jareth?"

Was it cheating to ask?

...who cares?

Danika looked up and to the side, lips pursed in thought.

"Ummmm not in about twenty minutes. He was at the bar, but he's not there now," she replied.

Sarah tried not to visibly pout lest creeping eyes think her disappointed, but, damn, why could it not be that easy?

She straightened up and did her best to peer over the horizon of bobbing heads. Danika continued talking, but whatever she was saying faded into the background with everything else. This abandonment bullshit was the worst kind of foreplay and was only making her angry and impatient—

So why was it so titillating then? her inner voice asked. Wait. What? No! No, she was not being titillated at all.

Gosh. Sarah shook her head in self deprecation. If only he knew the degradation of her thoughts over these last two weeks. He'd be even more arrogant, but...would probably take pity?

No. No. Pity was not what she wanted. It might have been a plight for her now, but it would be worth it in the end. Letting the build up of all that impatience and frustration fill to the brim before savagely letting it go all over each other? Throwing caution to the wind so hard it could be classified as a hurricane? Yeah...yeah that sounded more like it.

Her eyes were vacantly scanning the crowd in front of her by that point, mind totally lost amidst all the daydreams she'd rather be living. She was so tuned out, she almost didn't notice the crowd thin. Almost didn't catch the shrewd roll of his eyes as he looked away from her, nor the notable way he liked to run a hand through his hair. That Cheshire grin was left nearly unsavored as it curled so delectably in profile. It was true, she almost looked right past him and probably would have...if not for the ripe young tart he was making eyes at.

Sarah's aimless stare fell dead when she spotted him, but not from offense. No. Just when something nasty was cued to ruin her mood, his eye turned to the side again ever so slyly and, somehow through the fog and the crowd and the mess, locked searingly with hers. Like he'd been spying all along. Like she was his focus and the only reason for that smile. They held that connection for a long second —before some shape passed between them, and then he was gone.

Sarah blinked as if dazed, half wondering if she'd just imagined that.

"Hey, Danika?" Sarah asked, not taking her eyes off the spot he'd just been.

"Yes, Your Majesty?"

"What were you saying just now? I couldn't hear you."

"Oh!" Danika exclaimed, then hopped to her toes. "I was asking if you'd like a free sample?!"

Sarah paused. The focus in her stare broke, and instead an impulsive grin twitched on her face. One brow arched when she turned and looked over at Danika, eyes briefly falling to the tray of jello shots that was now being offered to her.

Free sample? a little voice echoed —and suddenly Jareth or apparitions thereof were completely forgotten.

Danika lifted the tray a little higher.

"They've been a real hit so far. Been burning through 'em like crazy. Excellent suggestion, Your Majesty," she said, shooting that big smile up at Sarah with such pride. Sarah held back a laugh. This was getting a little surreal.

"That's great. Guess I should try some then."

The contents of those jiggly little medicine cups was made of the same fae-brand rufilin that she'd partook of last year. Despite this knowledge, however, she did not hesitate to hop herself up with a little extra confidence. She was going to need it with the plans she had.

She might have growled while downing that shiny red substance in quick repetition, first glaring and then wincing when the tang of alcohol twisted her tongue. She recovered well though and set her two empty cups back on the tray, forcing her grimace to become a smile for Danika's sake.

Damn, that caught her off guard. Could she actually taste the alcohol in those? Wow. It really had been a while since she'd drank. She was loath to admit it, but maybe Karen was right. If she wanted to keep up with Jareth, she ought to pace herself…

But —wait— did the thought Karen was right really just allow itself into her brain? Oh God, she thought. What is happening to me? No. No. No. I'm not ready! I'm still young and vivacious, Toby. I swear!

Pride was the damndest thing. It forced her to grab and swallow two more shots.

With a big gulp, Sarah turned on her heel and scoured the crowd. Cat and mouse was one of Jareth's favorite games. If she wasn't careful, he'd probably have her walking in circles.

Not that two couldn't play that game either, but...no. This was a special occasion. She might not be able to handle turning into Karen with much grace, but she could bear indulging Jareth and his despairingly drawn out foreplay antics...just a little bit.

She left Danika to her duties and resumed her walk through the crowd. Unlike the first time she'd wandered aimlessly through an otherworldly dance, she was not lost or concerned. It really didn't matter whether she looked for him or not. She'd see him when he wanted to be seen, and they both knew that. She supposed her flagrant attitude over the fact took the fun out of it for him, for she did not walk for more than five minutes.

The cluster of people in front of her suddenly cleared, drawing over her attention which landed first on the toe of a white leather boot. From there her eyes couldn't help but move upward.

A part of her thought it was the contrast he posed against their surroundings that made his appearance so imposing, but...no. It was purely him.

He was dressed in all white, keeping with the theme and yet somehow breaking it completely. White pants, white shirt, white boots. He practically gleamed against the black and red palate of the club. There were no ghoulish prosthetics, no smears of kohl or drips of fake blood —but of course not; he was an angel— His pants were clean and pinstriped. That was the first thing she noticed. Pencil thin lines lead her eyes ever upward. Over his knee. Up his thigh. Around his…um...

Okay. While the fit of those slacks wasn't exactly modest, at least they kept his lower half covered. His shirt, however, was sheer, practically transparent. It hung loose on his frame with a wide, flowy collar that was open and tapered down all the way to where it tucked into his pants. For a moment, Sarah felt the impulse to scold him. Angels were supposed to be chaste, weren't they? He was interpreting this all wrong…

And why was she complaining, exactly? Well, that question had no answer.

Her gaze took its time moving over his chest. It was one of her favorite parts of him, after all. The way Underground fashion so often teased her with peaks and glimpses of it had made her gandering become greedy and shameless. And his chest...right now...covering that broad, firm, positively tasty plane of skin was…

Wait...

Was that a tattoo?

What?

Creeping over his shoulder and out from under the collar of his shirt was a pattern of feathers lain into his skin —the tone grey rather than black as if it was a mark he'd acquired long ago. Jareth did not have any tattoos, so this new glamour was not only surprising and uncanny, but wildly thrilling. Sarah's eyes widened as they quickly darted up to his shoulder, wanting to see where those lines went, how far they spread down his back, and what shapes they made. Maybe she could trace them with her fingers...feel along that thin fabric drawing down and down...

Using magic should count as cheating. It wasn't fair to totally disarm her with something as sexy as that. She wanted to see more. She wanted to lick it. She wanted to suddenly bite and feel it and—

Sarah never realized how much of a turn on something as simple as a tattoo would be for her, not that this was her first time seeing one. Still, now the possibilities were rampant in her head. Maybe she'd get him to play with other designs. Maybe she'd suggest he make it real. Make it real? Oh god. She needed to get that shirt off. Now.

Of course, the Goblin Queen does not openly salivate in public (that was an actual, written-in-ink law she'd learned in fae etiquette), so she kept her façade as cool as a breeze. Her gaze lifted to his face next, her expression stern against his...his everything.

She tried to focus on his eyes and nothing else (both her and Satan knew that her coffin did not need any more nails), but it was a futile effort. The bastard was pulling out all the stops —daring to go so far as pulling his hair back in that, so very specific, way that she liked.

It was but a simple ponytail tied back in a black ribbon. What made it alluring, however, was the wavy curl that tumbled throughout it. A large portion of bangs were let loose and draped over his face, making that enamoring (and now downright lascivious) left eye of his the only part of him in shadow.

She really should have known better. But, in the end, she knew that none of it really mattered. He could have rolled up in a grease covered trash bag and she would still be internally moaning like a bitch in heat. She was just that pent up, frustrated like he so enthusiastically wanted.

Sarah did not speak for what she thought was a long moment, needing to critique him in some way as a means of self preservation. So, this is his idea of an angel? Really? There was decadence for sure, but nothing heavenly about him. In fact...it was the very opposite of that. Where was the glowing halo? Where was the long nightgown and puffy, white wings poking everyone who passed in the eye?

She griped and griped, but her intensely fixed gaze only worked against her. She was so attracted to him it made her want to haul out and punch him in the face. Goddamn, she was going to make him pay.

Jareth let her have her fill, his grin quiet and smug as he admired her in kind.

"Are you alright?" he eventually asked, eyes still low on her front. Sarah tried not to glare. "...you seem a little bored."

Sarah arched a brow, her chin angling higher as she mirrored his expression.

"Or I just know the best way to lure you out," she countered.

Jareth's eyes flickered up like a snap, locking on hers in a way that had her toes curling in her boots. Could he tell she was posturing?

Oh yes.

"Hm," he hummed, biding his time by holding back some other, more dastardly comment. "How clever."

Sarah regarded his reservation as victory and took a few confident steps towards him. She angled her head down but held his stare all the while, some unnamed yet well known challenge brooding between them.

It may have been a front just to get a closer look at his chest, but….shh...

"Well?" she asked, holding up her hands while turning slowly in full circle. "What do you think?"

Jareth's head tilted slightly, a mannerism too slow to be conscious. His gaze moved shamelessly over her figure as she flaunted it for him, lingering on her ass and the bright white highlight that caught on the sides. She was wearing shorts —red —tight —a metallic kind of shiny. They hugged her ass perfectly like a plump apple, like a forbidden fruit wanting to be eaten. That beautiful shape was disrupted only by the dainty, arrow-headed tail attached at the hem and two black lines of garters, working under high tension to keep her matching red stockings pulled up. They stretched over her ass to hook directly into the back of her corset which…

He felt his cock twitch when she turned to the side, showing off a fleshy hip that pushed out between the crisscrossed laces that bound up the cutout sides of her corset. She'd tied the laces a bit too tight, and he knew exactly why. She was thicker now than before —always complaining that her waist wasn't pinched enough— but...to Jareth at least, that extra curve and the effort she went through trying to tame it only made her more wanton. Those were hips made to be grabbed. Made to be held onto while he fucked her brutally from behind.

Surely their themes were reversed, for the contour of her breasts being hugged so tightly by that cheaply made material as she turned forward to face him was a thing crafted by heaven.

There was another cutout in the front. It spanned to her navel and was the first thing he'd noticed about her when she first entered the room. The same black cord that laced up her sides did its utmost best to contain her bosom, pressing those perfect, fuckable breasts close together and letting everyone, absolutely everyone, see the lines and the shadows and the sweat that was sure to bead between them. Finishing the look was an adorable pair of glittery devil horns. He loved them immediately and almost as much as the cat ears from last year. He supposed she knew it, too, by the way her eye twinkled when they crossed gazes but a second later.

She finished her turnabout and waited for his verdict, her patience lined with hauteur which —against her goadful intentions— he really did not give a fuck about. Despite his tightly locked jaw, Jareth could feel his mouth watering just staring at her. It'd been too long, too fucking long since he'd sank his cock inside of her.

"So?" she asked, pulling him from his musing. "Is this devilish enough?"

Jareth's eyes darkened like a shade on the moon.

"Only if you stay out of my reach," he said and reached out to grab her by the wrist.

He pulled her forward abruptly, counting on her heels to disrupt her balance. She fell into him with a quiet gasp, her free hand darting up to his chest and landing wide and flush against the bare skin of his pectoral. Her eyes were fixated on the feathered markings there. His were fixated on the feeling of her breasts pressing against him. His smile etched wolfishly as he imagined the moment he would tear that thin fabric from her.

Sarah felt the beat of his heart as she leaned against him, the tingle between their skin making her reluctant to straighten herself up. He felt warm. The shape of his body was a thing she missed and, being so close, so already drunk and without a fuck, she did not hesitate to close her eyes and open her mouth wide.

A low groan could be heard when Sarah's hot tongue licked a firm path over his chest. Her weight was still on him, so he raised a hand to grasp her by the lower back for stability. The act was so abrupt he actually closed his eyes, fingers curling on her as his cock throbbed against her thigh.

A sudden heat built in her face. He smelled good and tasted better. She wanted...to tear him to pieces.

She turned her head and licked him again, ending the trail in a slow kiss with a bite at the end. Jareth stared down at her, watching the shape of her tongue and the rouge on her lips smear onto him in their wake. He thought he might lose himself if she dared to look up. Dared to catch his eye with those hungry, desperate, commanding eyes.

His arms tightened around her, forming an embrace until he could bring himself to break free of her seduction. Deftly, his hands retreated, finding their proper place on her hips and forcing them to move to the beat of the music. He wedged a knee between her legs next, letting her grind against him as they moved. She felt hot pressed to his thigh. …he could not wait to shove something inside her.

Sarah swallowed and adjusted her hands to grip Jareth's shoulders as they danced, keeping her eyes glued to the well of his throat as her third shot took hold. She felt a little dizzy all of a sudden, but the feeling faded quickly.

"That outfit isn't what I pictured it would be," she said, trying to keep her head level.

"Oh?" Jareth replied, pulling back ever slightly to look at her. "Do I displease you?"

Sarah bit her lip as she stared into his eyes. Rapacious.

"No…" she muttered, having to pause when his knee churned so perfectly against her clit. "No...this is much better than my version."

Her eyes were wide, brightened by lust and filled with fantasies. It was his favorite look on her. Pure avarice.

Jareth leaned in, running his hands up her sides while whispering in her ear.

"Mm...I think you were hoping to have another laugh at me," he said.

His humor was genuine. Sarah smiled and snickered into his shoulder.

"Yeah, well...I did feel kind of bad when you lost that coin toss," she replied, her arms moving to wrap around the back of his neck, using him to hold herself up and inhale his scent. "When I think of angels, I can't help but picture white robes with big, feathery wings and harps. That doesn't exactly...fit with your vibe."

Even in heels, he was still a good deal taller than her, so she had to angle her head upward as she hugged him. His hair was pressed to her cheek. It was so soft.

Jareth laughed deeply in his chest, and the sound felt so close to her. He followed it by leaving a lingering kiss on her shoulder.

"I admit, I don't own a harp," he said, his hands moving over her naked shoulders then back down. "If I recall, however, you have seen me donned in white robes and feathers before…"

He watched his hands as they lowered around the shape of her ass, gripping tight underneath and making her inch closer to him. One of her legs lifted instinctively to his hip. He obliged and held it there while she closed her eyes and nipped at his shoulder.

"You're right…" she said, eyes turning misty as she fought the desire to run her tongue up his neck. "—and you didn't look particularly angelic then, either."

Jareth laughed again, releasing her leg to sway her hips more aggressively.

"Please clarify then, have I passed or failed your expectations?"

"Hm...I don't know," she replied, playing coy while her fingers tapped teasingly against the back of his neck. "I think you might be taking too much creative license with your costume. There's nothing holy about you." He guided her away and turned her around then, hands going to her hips before pulling her back to his groin. She felt his erection against her ass and ground herself against it. "In fact…" she added, not caring to hide the new breathiness of her voice. "I'd say you look downright sinful."

Her eyes were low when saying that, trained on his hand as it splayed over her thigh and moved inward. Her legs spread readily, her body arching by reflex against the feeling of that heat inching closer to her groin.

"Ah. But even the Devil himself is an angel, love," Jareth said, his chin lowered to her shoulder to speak seductively in her ear. "So…" and her breath hitched when they both watched his hand move over her sex. "I think you'll find I can look as holy or as sinful as I want." His fingers pressed against her clit, moved down and then up, and then harder again. Sarah made a little noise, a weak pant in the effort not to moan. She was so sensitive there. She wanted to scream. "I did wear white, though," Jareth added, watching his own hand intently despite the candid tone of his voice. "Is that not enough?"

Sarah gulped as she squeezed her legs together, shutting him out under the guise of rolling her hips.

"And...the feathers?" she asked.

"Actual wings seemed a bit inconvenient," he responded, going along with her deflection. "I thought these marks would make a good enough substitute." And then his hands moved up to grip her by the waist as he turned his head towards her. "Do you not care for them?"

Sarah's jaw clenched.

"I didn't say that…"

Jareth spied on her profile, grinning on one side at seeing just how bright and focused her eyes had become.

"Well then...would you like to see where they end?"

Sarah blanched. Oh shit. Had he read her mind again? She gulped as she tried to think of anything else.

"Wh-what about your halo?" she asked.

Jareth's grin widened to rival the Devil's own.

"I don't need a halo."

No. No, he certainly did not. Sarah would not refute him there. He had a crown after all, and that was much better...

"Pretty sure angels are supposed to have halos," Sarah replied, sticking firm to….well, to Jareth. The feeling of him growing harder as they teased one another was steadily consuming her. She could feel a pressure building between her legs. She wanted him to touch her again. To spread her—

Jareth did his best not to laugh at how desperately she was fighting herself.

"Does your devil have hooves?" he asked.

Sarah blinked repeatedly, her brow furrowing as her mouth hung open. His thumbs….were rubbing the underside of her breasts.

"...no."

"Hm…"

He sounded contemplative; it made Sarah suddenly anxious when he let go and pulled away from her. She looked back at him, her eagerness at the loss of his touch betraying her with total transparency.

Jareth's attention was low, staring at her ass while his head tilted curiously to one side.

"I see you have a tail, however…" he said, reaching out to stroke the length of it. Sarah endured it stiffly, half wondering if it'd become an actual appendage given how strongly that careful touch affected her. "and horns…" His eyes flickered up to her headband as he said that, taking a step around her to let her tail fall limply from the tip of his finger. "And…" and his eyes raked over every part of her. "...not much else."

He circled her slowly, letting his hand graze along her hip as he came to stand in front of her. Sarah gulped. He had that look in his eye. The one that made her heart pound.

"Do you like the room?" he asked.

Sarah blinked like an idiot.

"Huh? Oh...um...Mhm."

He teased her with his grin, quiet laughter touching his eyes. He reached out for her again, this time caressing her face before lowering his hand to grasp her by the nape of the neck.

"Are you sure?" he asked, grabbing her hip with his free hand and jerking her forward. "I want you to be comfortable tonight."

Sarah arched her neck into his hold, grinning widely as they eased back into the dance.

"Oh, do you? Is that what you want?"

Laughter lined her voice, made her roll her eyes playfully back to his. Something more intense revealed itself once they locked, however. It made Jareth's demeanor darken even more.

"Well...in a sense, I suppose."

He let go of her neck and trailed his hand down over her shoulder, his attention falling with it to her breast which he shamelessly groped. She wore nothing beneath that flimsy excuse for a corset. The material was thin. He could feel her nipple hardening under his thumb...

Sarah kept her mouth open as she breathed, her eyes fixed on his face as he had his way. She might have been self conscious of their behavior...if she wasn't the frickin' Queen.

He turned her around again and held her close, pressing his face into her neck while moving their bodies as one.

"You look ravishing, by the way," he said, kissing her neck as his hands creeped behind. She felt them lightly caressing her ass when he murmured, "Especially here…" Then they moved up to grab both breasts. "And here…"

Sarah let out a gasp. There'd been more force that time. He held onto her possessively without a care for who might see. Sarah gulped a third time, fighting off a heavy buzz as he buried his face in her neck. This was bad. He was going to give her a letdown if he kept this up—

"Mm. I love the way you feel…"

Her nipples were hard under his hands, starting to drip and dampen her corset. She gritted her teeth and fought off the sensation, focusing instead on that other wet feeling she could feel growing with every roll of her hips. Jesus. What a dirty traitor her body was. There was little to be done about it, however; he was so fucking hard at her back she couldn't stand it. If she didn't get ahold of herself, she'd end up fucking him right there on the dance floor in front of all those people…

But that was just the alcohol talking. No amount of sexual tension would allow her to do something like that...

"Are you still trying to frustrate me?" she asked, a bit of huff in her voice. "Or...can we be done with it already?"

She was staring intently straight ahead, focusing on the goblins swinging too and fro. The crowd in front of her went on in ignorance —couples and clusters seeming to mirror her, twisting and clawing at their partners in a heavy-lidded state of impatience.

"That depends…" Jareth murmured, slowing their dance to almost nothing. "Will you say I win?"

One of Sarah's eyebrows arched.

"Hmph. No."

She said that promptly. Not the wisest choice for her right now.

She stood stock still at the feeling of Jareth's fingers creeping under her shorts from behind. She knew exactly what was coming and just…

Jareth smiled wickedly as he whispered hotly into her ear, "Then you're not frustrated enough."

Her body swayed when two fingers curled around the fabric of her shorts and slipped easily inside. He pushed deep to the knuckle, pulsing them in that marginal space before pulling back. In and out. Slowly. Rhythmically —to the beat of the music.

Sarah closed her eyes and laid her head back against his shoulder, her lips parted as labored breaths formed there. She didn't care. She couldn't have cared less. That feeling was so good and so agonizing, she just couldn't spare a thought for anything else. It was a relief, if anything. Her hips angled back, trying to give him better access as she moaned.

She felt the heat of a rough exhale flare on her neck, felt the hand holding her hip grip tighter. She could hear the sound of him thrusting into her turning wetter, and feel it smearing from the back of his hand onto the inside of her thighs. She was so over this game. So ready. So…

"Jareth—" she called out, lightly like a whisper carried over the music. Oh, what a sweet sound.

"Yes, my love?"

"Please…"

She turned her head to look at him, her lashes wilting and her chest lifting quickly. Jareth added a third finger and fucked her harder.

"Please what?"

She flinched against him, her body bracing against the change. She felt fuller now, felt her cunt stretching like she so craved. He was doing this on purpose. Trying to bring her close. Oh, how badly she wanted to come, but she could only enjoy so much. She knew he wouldn't let her—

"Please prepare yourself…" she said, then slyly reached back between them. "...to lose epically."

Her hand wrapped around his cock, clutching it through his pants so tightly it made him jerk. She did not give him the chance to recover, however, and started moving her fist up and down. He flexed in her hand over and over, lengthening at her command. Jareth nearly buckled, hunching over her to press his forehead to her shoulder.

He laughed as best he could. Seems she'd known his bravado was as weak as hers all along.

He didn't speak beyond that uneven laugh. That was fine, though. Sarah preferred it. She reached up and unsnapped the button blindly, then pulled the zipper down to reach boldly inside.

His cock was hot in her hand, rigid, and swollen. She jerked him off determinedly, not giving a single fuck for any voyeurs who creeped around them.

By now their dance had been left for dead and, excluding Sarah's hand, both stood as still as statues. Jareth's fingers were still pressed deep inside but…he was incapable of moving them.

She heard his breathing quicken close to her ear, heard it turn into moans that he tried so hard to keep quiet. She felt his brow twist as he scowled against her shoulder, and then a wetness beading at the tip—

"It's been a while," she said, rubbing her hand over the head to smear the precum down his shaft. "I admit, you've got me going. I want to fuck you so badly. You've got to be so pent up too…" She spoke softly in that sweet siren's way, the words somehow resounding with perfect clarity amidst the pounding base. Jareth exhaled slowly as he listened to it. "We can both win, you know...or lose. What is pride between lovers?"

And then he cracked a smile.

"Ah. Are we negotiating now?" he asked with strain.

"Depends…" Sarah replied, letting go to turn around and face him. They held each other close with clouded stares when she asked, "Do you want to get fucked or not?"

Jareth blinked slowly, his grin spreading widely across his face. She was seducing him, no doubt, but, oh, how badly he wanted to snicker.

"Oh, kitten," he said, and the amusement there was as dark and it was inciting. "I think you'll find it is you who's going to get fucked."

The next thing Sarah knew, they were someplace else: out of the rave, back in their room several stories up. The sudden change in pressure disoriented her, but it was a feeling she did not get to fully experience. Jareth's hands on her back steadied her, moving like claws over her shoulder blades. In the quiet of the room, she heard her own breath and realized just how quickly her heart was beating. She'd placed her hands on his chest for balance. Hands that curled as she looked up, deeply into his eyes.

They were torturing themselves more than each other, they thought, such dialogue passing along the steady hum that rang in their ears. It was like a vacuum; the absence of sound, of movement, it left a force in its wake that was just pulling at them.

They knew that whoever made the next move would lose the game, but...no. This was not a game anymore.

Her hands went up to his hair when he kissed her, when their eyes closed and their mouths met open and hot. His tongue swept into her mouth, tasting the sweet residue left over on her own.

She pulled herself up, clinging to him as she stood on tiptoe. Her lipstick was ruined in an instant. —but she'd worn the messy one on purpose.

Jareth murmured low in the back of his throat, pausing with their mouths locked to savor the feel. His hand raised to the back of her head, fingers splaying like a spider into her fair.

One year ago, it was a battle to win that first kiss. Tonight, however, he sought after it like a drug.

The sound of breath through their noses replaced the music, coming with an accent of gasp or moan as they shifted their heads in sync with the other's. She thought nothing of it. She knew how to kiss him now. Knew what he liked and how best to bite on his lip. The way he met hers in return was equally mindless. A comfort. A small show of the familiarity they'd fostered together.

The vacuum around them took root in that kiss. And the taste, and his teeth, and her tongue curling deeply in? It left them starved.

Sarah lifted and bent a leg around his hip, pulling him closer lest even a molecule of air separate them. Jareth's hand clutched it in place immediately, inching it higher as he reached further back to mold his hand over her ass. The other hand soon joined, and suddenly she was being lifted and carried to somewhere in the room.

Jareth set her down on top of a dresser —the one she'd noted earlier as being just the right height for such things— and jerked her sharply by the hips until she sat perched on the very edge. The motion startled her and made her lean back on her hands for stability. Her legs tightened around his hips as he kissed the side of her face, moving down in a hot mess until he found the crook of her neck.

She arched away when he bit down and sucked, pressing her breasts up against his chest as he embraced her there.

He had a hand at the back of her neck while the other moved in a circle around her breast. His thumb brushed firmly over her nipple, moving around and around, and pinching it when it peaked. Sarah wanted to moan but forced it back. She could feel her breast swelling from the stimulation, and focused with all her might on subduing it.

He sensed this, however, and reached down to unclip the garters from her corset, then behind to lower the zipper at her back. The slight thing fell away effortlessly, letting her heavy breasts hang free. In some respects it felt better that way, but the change in pressure, the way the cool air of the room hit her, it sparked the very thing she'd been so determined to avoid.

A sharp tingle shot down through her breasts, making them warm and hard and painful. Jareth's hands held them tightly, massaging the spots he knew would be sore as milk began to quickly trickle from her nipples.

The hot liquid ran messily over his hands. The sensation of it made his cock throb.

The sound of Sarah's breaths turned to wincing as her hands curled into fists on the dresser. The start of her letdown always hurt, but it would pass if she stopped fighting it. It was still embarrassing for her though, so she turned her head away as Jareth's moved low down her chest. Even after three whole months, she was still hesitant to watch. She had no idea why he loved this so much, but...oh, did he love it.

Jareth's hands massaged her firmly, pumping each breast so the milk ran thicker. Little puddles were forming on the dresser, running down from his wrists to pool on her thighs and then stream over the sides. Sarah was entirely too self conscious of it and of the mess that he made out of her. Even still, she did not stop him. Letting him milk her was the only way to rid her of the ache.

Jareth kissed his way to one nipple then opened his mouth as he squeezed, spraying her onto his tongue.

The sound he made in reaction was debauched. That was the only way she could describe it. A sound so appreciative and thoroughly in pleasure that she could not help but be turned on by it. His eyes had closed and practically rolled back in his head. She tentatively watched him gorge himself on her as he pulled her breast deep into his mouth and sucked.

Sarah winced again, her breath sporadic as she stared at him. He knew what he was doing —he'd practiced on her plenty— and sucked the milk from her so hard she could actually feel it passing through. She did not find it as sexually arousing as he did, but the relief she felt as her breast emptied was just as good.

She could hear the sound of his gulp when he swallowed and, for whatever reason, that was actually kind of…

Jareth pulled back and turned towards the other breast, licking and kissing the flesh before finding her nipple. His eye caught her watching just before his tongue made contact, however, and he paused at the familiar look of simultaneous enthrallment and mortification that had petrified on her face.

He reached for one of her hands and placed it on his cock.

"Do you feel how hard you make me?" he asked, moving her hand up and down his shaft. His pants were left undone from before, so she touched bare skin. It was true; he was as hard a fucking rock. Her chest lifted on a sharp inhale as she imagined being stretched by it. "This bashfulness is pointless," he told her, letting go while she continued to stroke him, and turned back to flick his tongue over her nipple. "I adore watching what happens to you. I adore the smell and the taste. I adore the mess it leaves on you. And…" and he sucked her nipple into his mouth, swallowing the gush of milk that spurt on his tongue. "I adore being able to take away that pain…"

He suckled deeply, slowly, lessening the rocks that had formed in her flesh with precision. Sarah almost sighed from the relief it gave her, almost moaned from the way his cock kept flexing in her hand.

"Do you feel better yet?" he asked. Sarah's lips parted as she stared.

"Yes…"

"Do you feel good?"

And now she licked them.

"Yes."

Jareth peered up at her as he swallowed.

"Good."

She thought he would continue, and lifted her chest higher for him. The pain was gone, so she did not need him to anymore, but he'd succeeded in seducing her. Watching the way his tongue moved over her breasts was always provocative, but witnessing the kind of satisfaction that showed on his face when he drank from her was something else entirely. She had no word for it. It was like being worshipped.

She was thus surprised when he pulled away from her and stood, taking quick hold of her by the wrists. He pulled her to her feet then turned her around, a guiding hand at her back telling her to bend.

There was a mirror attached to the dresser. She quickly realized exactly why he wanted her there.

She bent forward to lay on her forearms, eyes locked with his through the mirror. Jareth took a step back and yanked his shirt loose, then pulled it up and off of him. He broke eye contact only when shaking his ponytail free of the collar before letting it drop to the floor. She could see more of that tattoo now, see the way the curves of it complimented the shape of his clavicle and shoulder.

Hot damn, Sarah thought. She wanted to dig her nails right into it.

Jareth stood motionless for but a moment, appreciating the view of her perked up ass and her hanging tits, and the come hither look she was giving him. Her hips shifted restlessly, thighs pressing together and rubbing.

He knelt down to one knee and kissed an exposed part of thigh between her shorts and her stockings. The garter straps hung loose now. He tugged on them to start inching her stockings down.

He kissed her again, a little lower that time. And again. And again. And then once more on the soft flesh behind her knee. Her impatient feet fidgeted all the while, lifting one at a time to aid him in taking off her shoes.

He ran his nose over her legs once they were bared, lightly grasping her calves and her knees and her thighs. She even felt him graze along the round her rear, the tips of his fingers inching under the hem and pushing it higher.

The material strained over her groin as more of her ass was exposed. She supposed that was the point. It made her squirm.

His teeth lightly nipped at the fabric when his hands reached up to pull her shorts down. Slowly. Inch by inch. She shivered under the tingle of his breath flushing over her gradually exposed but already tantalized skin.

She felt particularly vulnerable once those shorts hit her knees. She was totally naked now, and a faint draft in the room breezing over her cunt let her know just how wet she still was. Her feet shifted again. He was so close…

Her anticipation was rewarded with another hot breath. It flared over her sex, her flesh tingling from the proximity of his open mouth.

She felt the tip of his tongue first. It touched her lightly, running little taps up her opening. The feeling was wet, her sensitivity making it almost cold. She inhaled sharply on reflex, bracing her shoulders and closing her eyes tightly.

Next she felt his thumbs, felt them pull back the flesh on either side of her sex and spread her apart. She felt body opening. Heard it, even. She fidgeted over the dresser once again, fisting her hands in constraint.

Jareth watched the way her muscles clenched repeatedly as he held her open. She wanted him in her. —he wanted to be in her too.

He felt his balls tighten as he tilted his jaw and thrust his tongue inside.

Sarah moaned into the mirror, but it was a muffled sound kept trapped in her throat. He was careful of how he touched her, only on the inside and only with his tongue. He pulled his tongue back and extended it back in, moving in a motion that mimicked a different appendage.

He failed to hear whatever sounds she started making, his mind going blank as he played and explored. He pulled back to look at her again, watching his thumbs push inward and outward, massaging her folds and smearing the saliva he'd left there. Her ankles crossed and her toes curled between his knees —the only movement from her.

She felt one of those thumbs move a little further, running a circle around her open cleft in a way that made her hips inch back. He would not enter her, however. Not yet.

He kept the pressure of his thumb there when he dropped his jaw again. A real kiss this time —a lapping of tongue and lips that sucked in the tender flesh.

His chin angled forward and she felt the penetration of his tongue again. His mouth engulfed her now, fucking her lightly with licks while that thumb massaged externally up and down.

Her legs spread a little wider, her back bowing as she turned her ass up into his mouth. His free hand clutched her by the thigh when she shifted, keeping her in that position as he ate her at his leisure.

Sarah cast her head down until it touched the desktop. If she let herself go, she could come quite easily. She did her best to hold back, however. She was greedy for the satisfaction of other, larger things.

Jareth's gaze remained hazy as he pulled his mouth away, his head tilting almost curiously as he then slid two fingers inside. Sarah let out a gasp and went rigid, caught off guard by the deft movement. His movements slowed, however, as he watched his fingers pull out. A heat filled the haze as he admired the glisten she left on them. And then his tongue reached out impulsively, licking over his own knuckles eager to taste it. That heat in his face built steadily as he sucked his fingers deep into his mouth before thrusting them back into her. Sarah gasped again. Jareth's eyes closed as he angled further down to tongue unknown shapes over her clit.

Sarah leaned upright with a moan, her reflexes torn. She wanted to yield, to open wider for him and take what he gave, while another part resisted. The feeling was just too sharp. Too sudden. Too good. Her legs actually trembled as he moved his fingers faster, deeper, harder.

She started pushing back, rocking her hips into each minor thrust. Her eyes were clenched tightly, her hands inching back to grip the edge of the dresser.

The motion of him withdrawing his fingers to coat a third was too swift for her to notice, but her eyes cracked open and her moans deepened when she felt his ring finger press into her ass.

But the surprise was fleeting. She relaxed and let him in, doing her best to control her breathing as he filled her thoroughly. He was moving faster now, all three fingers stretching her out, delving to the base. That new feeling was harder to fight against. She found herself giving in without any resistance at all, her aching cunt clenching around him like she was pleading for release.

That pressure welled deep, touched so perfectly by the tips of his fingers. She wanted to hold out longer but….if he didn't stop….she was going to...

Jareth felt her muscles tighten and start to spasm, and pulled out before she could come. She breathed heavily in a heap over the dresser, a tired scowl on her face as she opened her eyes and looked back to glare at him. They were at perfect eye level with each other, a moment of both warning and promise passing between those smoldering stares.

"You're getting so swollen," he said, running his thumb over her wet, darkened folds. Sarah panted into her own hair.

"Jareth….please? It's Halloween. Don't be...don't be mean."

He liked it when she begged —that was the only reason why she did— and both knew it was little more than rhetorical. Swoon and cry and prostrate herself all she may, If he didn't spoil that greedy girl soon, Jareth knew she'd turn around and pin him violently to the floor.

But even if that soft spoken plea and wilted look were nothing more than bluster, the picture of her ass turned up while her face turned down in submission was more than enough to entice him into anything. She told him once that she liked the way he took her. —He told her that he liked the way she manipulated him into doing so.

Jareth unlaced his boots then stood behind her, making sure to take his sweet old time in removing everything else.

Sarah knew from his silence that her beseech would be answered, and turned her head forward to face the mirror. She watched him watch her, watched the movement of his arm as he slowly pleasured himself to the sight of her ass and her cunt. Just when she thought they were both distracted by it, she saw his eyes snap up and lock on hers in their mirror.

"On your hands," he said, and she leaned up readily.

Her devil horns glittered in her reflection. It made her grin knowing that he wanted her to wear them.

A wide hand splayed over her ass, holding her in place as he positioned his cock at her entrance. He stroked himself more, eyes trained on the spot where the head separated her cleft, pushing in just one aching centimeter with every forward thrust of his hand.

It would be so easy to just fuck her, he thought. So easy to bury himself, and stretch her out, and take his time...

"This is the part where Lydia starts screaming," Jareth said, sounding so low and wayward it made Sarah laugh.

"Heh. She probably is," she replied, grinning down at the dresser. Jareth did not share her amusement, however, and only responded with a distant, thoroughly distracted,

"Hm..."

Sarah's laughter lingered. That had been her mistake. It made her lower her guard at the perfect moment.

Her unsuspecting ha turned to a guttural moan when he suddenly thrust forward straight into her, brutally.

Sarah shot forward into the mirror, her hands lifted by a jolt before slamming back down on the dresser. Her knees fought themselves as Jareth then grabbed both her hips, pulled back, and fucked.

He was planning to start slow. Planning to draw it out and make the experience utterly agonizing for them both. He should have known better. One touch of that hot cunt on the tip of his aching cock was all it took to unravel his resolve completely.

He pulled her back sharply to meet each thrust, the sound of their bodies slapping deafened only by the high screech of Sarah's moans. Jareth's fingers curled into her hips, bending at the knees to thrust up and deep to the fucking hilt.

Habit made him fast —the remnant echoes of a crying baby still a present source of anxiety. In truth it was something Sarah felt as well, a new and instinctual race to satisfaction while they might still have it. Her shoulders hunched as she braced against the unrelenting force of his body, her hip bones bouncing off the rounded lip of the dresser in pain, harder and harder.

One of Jareth's hands left her hip and pulled her back by her hair. Her body bowed by his whim, her chest lifting high on perfect display for him in the mirror. Jareth's ragged breathing took on a kind of groan as he gazed. The way her tits moved with every undulation made his mouth water anew.

The stimulation had her nipples dripping again, but thankfully it wasn't painful. Jareth leaned forward, releasing her hip to reach around and fondle her. He pulled on her nipple, eyes fixed and darkening on the stream of milk that splattered the mirror. She cried out from the pinch of his fingers but, oh, she'd forgive him.

The angle at which he pulled her hair kept her taut and unable to move without causing herself pain. All she could see was her messy, shameless self pulsing in the mirror and the sharp eye of her captor over her shoulder. She took short breaths, ignoring the bruises forming on her hip bones as his cock slammed inside her.

She was surprised when he pulled her back farther, lifting her off her hands to stand almost straight. He braced her with a hand over her chest lest she fall, his fist in her hair winding up to the nape as he looked down and bit her shoulder.

That new, difficult angle unlocked something. She felt it bloom deep in her belly as she stared at herself. She was so wet she could feel it on her thighs, feel it on his balls as they slapped up against her. Fuck, she couldn't take it anymore. The knot bound and twisted all at once, and she cried out, screamed, clawed her nails into his forearm and came so viscerally that it contorted her entire body.

She moved in a spasm, an uncontrollable reflex that made her knees press tightly together. She was glad he was holding her up. She'd have dropped otherwise. The feeling, however, was as quick as it was powerful, leaving her breathless but bereft and needing more. Jareth felt the compulsion to follow her as her insides contracted and squeezed around his cock, but he had other plans.

As soon as she started to settle, Jareth pulled out of her and swooped her up, carrying her over to the bed and tossing her on it. She looked winded when they crossed gazes, but his attention was entirely on her chest.

Her torso was a glossy mess, made sticky and wet from the milk that he'd smeared over it. He crawled over her, straddling her waist and staring at her tits while he jerked himself off. Sarah stared at his hand on his cock moving vigorous and violently. He was so large, so long, so swollen and red. She knew he was going to come.

A residual moan escaped her as she arched her head back, reaching up to fondle her own breasts and draw out beads from her tender nipples. Jareth moaned at the sight, and moaned again as he fell forward to one hand and came all over her chest.

His breath was rough on a few large exhales, his chest heaving from the exertion. He was far from spent, however. Oh no. Such ineptitude was a plight of mere mortal men.

In the same ragged breath, Jareth laid himself out against her, his arms wrapping tightly around her head as their mouths met and sucked. His enduring erection ground against her stomach, cum and milk and sweat sticking between them.

If she wasn't so pent up, she might have been put off by the nastiness. As it was, she'd spent too many nights holding back. Too many nights quelling her moans and her pleasure and her fun with this angel, or demon, or God, or Devil, or Faerie King of a man. No, tonight she craved that nastiness. She needed it. Tomorrow she might very well put on that same Karen approved sweater and carry that same overstuffed diaper bag, but tonight? Tonight was a night to be vivacious. A night for all hell to break loose.

Jareth's hands grabbed her by the face and he kissed her for all he was worth. It left her gasping, blinking up at the ceiling when he suddenly dragged those kisses down. His tongue ran circles around her chest, tasting everything. His hands meanwhile found their way to her legs, lifting them to his shoulder as he reared back.

She turned her hips up for him. His cock was as hard as ever when he pushed it back inside.

He held her ankles to his shoulders, thrusting long and deep into that soft, tight cunt. Sarah watched the way his pelvic muscles flexed on each roll, then salaciously peered up to admire the tension on his biceps. A sheen was forming on his arms. It made the veins pulsing there more apparent.

She caught his reflection in the mirror behind him as she ogled. It was steamy and smeared with her fluids, but she could still see the muscles working in his back and the remainder of those mysterious feathers that formed two wings spanning down the entire length of his spine. They tapered just above his tailbone. It made her eyes widen, made her second guess who she was with. She wanted to reach out and touch him there—

It was like he knew. For a moment, Sarah wondered if he actually could read her mind. He readjusted his knees on the bed, then leaned down over her until she was bent in half. He put his weight in his shoulders, keeping her hips elevated and his stance wide as he pulled out to the tip then thrust back in.

He filled her to the root, filled her full all the way to that little spot only he could reach. Sarah cried out loudly, her moans without inhibition as she laid there and let herself be taken. Her hands, however, were left free. His proximity allowed her to clutch him by the shoulders, pressing his face into her neck while she struggled to feel those two-dimensional lines as if there was actual texture there.

The way his back arched as he moved let her see a glimpse of them. She had no idea why she found it so enamoring.

"I like these tattoos..." she said, her nails scraping over his ribs. "Keep them for a while."

Jareth grinned and pulled back, his eyes alight with amusement as they locked with hers.

"As you wish, my love."

Her eyes narrowed on him and her lips pursed in a little smirk, debating whether that cossetting tone was worth retaliation while her hands moved from his shoulders up to his hair. Her retort was a kiss. A commanding one. It stole that bawdy grin right from his face.

Jareth paused. He savored. He closed his eyes and kissed her back. His hands touched her face and then her shoulders, and then held her knees in place as he pulled out, lingered, and plunged back in.

He felt his cock flex inside her, felt pleasure both bloom and constrict around him, and actually had to close his eyes to keep control of himself. Gods, she felt good. Too fucking good.

He straightened out her legs and rolled them in one simultaneous movement, pushing her mouth down to his as she came to straddle him.

Her long hair swept over them both and kept them concealed in the fray, kept them knotted and tethered together in that messy, merciless, molten kiss. Sweat brimmed on their foreheads, cold beads of it passing to each other's upper lips as they licked and bit. She raised her hips and slammed them down just as fast as he had, riding his cock and moaning into his mouth and gasping when his fingers dug into each side of her ass.

He guided her sharply, lifting her high and then holding her down. His thrusts hit just a touch too deep now, giving her cries of pleasure a twinge of pain. Her breasts bounced against his chest, soft and empty, but still leaking little droplets into his chest.

That awareness inspired her. She leaned up and held one breast, guiding it to his mouth as she rode him. He let go of her hip and covered her hand with his, holding tightly as whatever remained squirted out into his mouth. He sucked on her deeply once more, the hand still on her ass gripping to the point of pain as he thrust decisively up. Sarah froze in place, the pitch of her moans turning suddenly high, suddenly fast, suddenly overwhelmed by the feeling of how good he was fucking her.

Her face formed a grimace as the orgasm built. She was ready for it. Eager. Willing. She wanted to scream and cry out and throw herself back. She could feel the head of his cock pounding deep inside, jutting into that spot that was just growing and growing and—

"No," Jareth said, his voice now hoarse as it broke through her focus. Sarah looked down in confoundment. "In my mouth," he added. "I want to taste it."

Sarah huffed and puffed in disorientation, but did as he asked. She pulled back her hair and turned around on top of him, mounting his face while taking him into her mouth.

Jareth's eyes closed briefly as his body gave a full jerk. She had no tact at all when she was aroused, too focused on pleasure, and aggressive in all the right ways. He let himself indulge in it for a minute, pulsing in her mouth as she swallowed the precum that built on the back of her tongue.

Her skin was wet with sweat, looking so pale and bright under that cheap, artificial light. Her pussy was open for him, swollen and red and slick with cum. He wrapped his arms around her legs, one hand holding her spread while the other played.

He dipped just one finger inside, feeling around and stretching her out as he watched. That teasing touch had her moaning into his cock. He jerked again when one of her hands wrapped tightly around the base and started stroking.

He added a second finger, moving in and out slowly, turning them, separating them, and angling his wrist so he could push to the palm. Watching had become a compulsion for him. She was just too pretty not to. Everything from the shape, to the color, to the feel and the smell and the taste —it was perfect. And she fit him so perfectly. Like they were made for one another. Like those moans and those touches and that quivering he saw in her pretty cunt was meant, always and exclusively, for him.

Those possessive, prideful thoughts excited him. Made him greedy. He worked her harder, faster, making her moan when and how he wanted. The thumb on his other hand toyed with her clit, rubbed over the flesh concealing it in firm, little movements. Her knees on either side of him quaked, and he felt her mouth over his cock freeze in place. Breath through her nose flared hot over his balls. Her insides were starting to squeeze. To draw him in. He started to thrust into her idle mouth when she came with a sweet outcry —just when he wanted her to.

He fucked her in her mouth and in her cunt as the waves coursed through her, drawing it out along with the fluid that seeped from her. Sarah had to pull her mouth away from him as she moaned, her shoulders buckling when the feeling failed to fade. It felt so good. He always made it feel so good. Why did they make each other wait so many days again? Why, Lord? Why?!

When her cum thickened on his fingers, he pulled back and leaned his head up. He held her in place with wet hands, lapping at her pussy with a wide, flat tongue. Then he drove that tongue in, moaning in ecstasy as the taste unfurled in his mouth. And then he sucked. He devoured. He took such exquisite pleasure in her body that the mere sounds he made had her cheeks flushing hotly.

She pushed her body back into his mouth, panting and moaning and stroking his wet shaft, hard and now ready to burst.

He pulled away to see her muscles trembling, see them clench and unclench and search for more. Such a greedy thing that body was, always wanting to be filled. Never had he met a better match, a better mate, and he supposed that was the work of Fate. No human had ever kept up with his appetite. But this human? His Champion? His Queen? She'd said it for him that night. —There really was no one better suited for the privilege.

She felt him playing with her as her orgasm settled, felt his fingers and his tongue lightly tracing or tapping. Those little touches made her flinch, made her quiver, made her eager to reciprocate.

She licked a circle around the head of his cock, leaving light kisses here and there, then ran her tongue long down the shaft. Her hand at the base squeezed, moving in little pumps that made it stand straight. Her other hand massaged his balls, reaching under to find that sensitive spot that always made him moan—

He murmured right on cue and shifted his legs on the bed. Sarah grinned in satisfaction as she carried on, planting wide hot kisses around his shaft before moving slowly up to the swollen head.

She tapped her tongue against it. Touched that other spot he liked. More cum trickled from the head. She ran her tongue over it before sucking him back in.

She lowered her head, taking in as much as she could, then pulled back with a hard suck. He made another noise, close to a moan, but it wasn't good enough. She sucked on him again and again, bobbing her head rhythmically as her hand ran up and down. Her hand became coated with her own thick saliva as it seeped from the cracks between her fingers, turning the sound of it slick and loud. Jareth was trying to tease her but really couldn't, his head cast back to the bed as he fought the urge to meet each suck with a thrust.

Ah, but she knew him so well. She read his mind. One hand let go and reached under his ass, guiding him up in encouragement to fuck her mouth. He did, and he moaned. He moaned louder and louder as she flattened her tongue and took him to the back of her throat.

He leaned up a fraction, biting her on the ass while reaching down to try and hold the back of her head. He pushed her down on each of his thrusts, moved her faster, fucked her better, relishing the occasional scrape of her teeth or minor gag and recoil that only brought him closer and closer to coming.

She felt his rhythm change as he slid in and out of her mouth, his grip starting to pinch in her scalp. His legs were rigid on the bed, and she knew—

Jareth moaned loudly as he came in her, hips bucking up sharply until she choked. Sarah recovered swiftly and took hold of him tightly by the base, keeping him in place as she found her bearing and sucked the rest from him.

She swallowed it down quickly, feeling somewhat victorious over the way his cock softened in her mouth. Did that feel good? she wanted to ask, but she never got the chance to be arrogant.

She pulled away from him and angled back, about to fall onto her hip and snicker at him. She wasn't expecting him to grab her by the waist and push her to the side.

She staggered on her hands, pushing through a bit of vertigo from what remained of her buzz. It left her feeling tired all of the sudden. Her eyelids turned heavy as she blinked.

She felt the bed shift and looked over at Jareth as he moved to kneel behind her. Apparently, he still wasn't done yet. Sarah wondered, fleetingly, how much more she could physically endure.

He jerked her back so she was up on all fours, kicking her knees further apart with his own as he pressed his cock to her opening and delved fully inside.

She was surprised that he was still semi-soft when he entered her, but that relief did not last long. Every thrust made him harder, longer. She could feel him growing, penetrating her deeper with every thrust.

Exhaustion built and weighted itself in her forehead, but she pushed through it. A few months ago, this would be nothing. She was merely out of practice. There was no way she was going to tap out before him. She had an image to present after all, and an ego to match.

She bowed her back like a dog once he reached his full size, her overstimulated body squirming despite pushing back onto him. It felt a little different this time. More intense. More acute. It must have been the angle, or the number of orgasms she'd already had—

Jareth fell over her, wrapping a hand around the front of her throat and then pulling her upright against his chest. He held her there gently, considerate of her breathing while totally inconsiderate of her freedom to move.

His knees on the inside of hers spread her even wider, forcing her to sink down onto his cock as he rocked his hips up. His hand on her neck creeped around her chin, middle and index finger dipping into her mouth and rubbing along her tongue. His other arm had wrapped around her waist, holding her in that precise pose with an unyielding strength.

Sarah's body braced, fighting to find some kind of balance in that award, highly strained position. She sucked on his fingers and reached out her tongue to chase after them when they left, but that tangy hand went back to her throat, keeping her looking up while he sucked aggressively at the pulse in her neck.

Sarah did not think about it right away, but there was an odd kind of slowness to his movements, a carefulness. He would pull out to the very tip, even to the point of separation, and then glide, slowly, thoroughly, all the way in. It was a different kind of deep, but Sarah wasn't quite sure why. Something about her just felt different. It was like...like she was going to come already without the build up.

And yet she didn't. It just wouldn't happen. She endured that feeling, that sharp, aching, terrible feeling until the precipice alone overwhelmed her. He was too deep. It was too intense. She didn't know what it was. And it—it got worse. She wanted to move. To claw at him. To run away. She wanted to stop. To have a break from that feeling. To just calm down and breathe—

"Jareth— Jareth, stop. It's too much. I need to...slow down…"

But his response was a groan, something low and visceral and determined. Instead of heeding her command, she felt his embrace on her tighten.

"Jareth—" she cried out in a plea. Tears were beading on her eyes. Whatever was happening...that feeling in her belly...it was about...to boil over…

"You know our word," he whispered, nipping at the lobe of her ear. "Are you sure you want me to stop?"

Word? That's right. They had a word. A safe word. She had not forgotten about it by any means, but she couldn't bring herself to say it. Stop. She'd told him to stop. But...did she want him to stop?

Sarah continued to moan but did not say anything else. Jareth closed his eyes and held her, the way he fucked her steady and unshaken as her body became more and more rigid. He waited like that patiently, waited for her to decide and say her right word, and then nuzzled her neck when he knew she had no intention of doing so.

"Just let it happen, my love. Relax and let go. I've got you."

He spoke sweetly into her ear, coddling really. She remembered that he'd spoken to her like that once before, on a day when something new had happened to her.

Sarah's breath quickened as she realized what was happening, but she did not have the proper focus to figure out how to prepare herself for it. It was just too intense. Too much. And yet— and yet she was moaning so loudly—

"J-Jareth!"

She cried out one last time, her hands springing to his arms and holding him in return. She felt like she was going to explode. Like she was going to die. She wanted it to stop but—but she didn't want it to stop—

"That's right," Jareth murmured lovingly into her hair. "Just like that...just...like that."

He held her protectively as that feeling suddenly peaked. Sarah shrieked violently, her body in a craze as her hands started clawing at his, fighting for release. Orgasm of a terrifying magnitude hit her, and her body seized as Jareth —with determination— kept her trembling knees pressed wide apart as a rush of hot liquid cascaded down her thighs.

Oh God. It was just like last time. It was way too much, frightening even. Even as she screamed and writhed in pleasure, it was a pleasure so unbearable she could not help but curse him for it. Why? Why did he do this to her? Force it out of her? Why would he not let go?

Her body's natural instinct did everything it could to brace, to writhe, to jar herself away —but his arm around her waist and his hand on her neck, with those long fingers and deadly command, kept her fixed in place. Like a dog. Like a thing as wild as the sounds coming out of her gaping mouth. And it just kept coming. With every thrust. Every deep fuck. Every churn that pulled his hips back —she could feel more and more of that scorching fluid pouring out, wetting her legs and her knees, and leaving the sheets beneath them sodden. And it spread. It coated his cock and smeared on her ass until the motion and the contact of those unforgiving thrusts resounded with a loud slap.

And there was nothing she could do about it. Nothing but endure. The lack of control she had over her own body was mortifying, but the sounds he was now making? The moans and the ecstasy and that deep, guttural tenor, lowering with every utterance at the mere sight —let alone the feel or the sound— of what he'd done to her? It was feral. It was empowering. It was something that she did. And so, despite the confusion and the embarrassment, she did endure. She let him pump her full, pump her clean, and drench them both until the sheets soaked through.

Somewhere in the fray he came along with her, but she was so caught up in herself she never even noticed. Only when the screams died down did he pull out of her, releasing another gush of liquid that poured down to the bed.

The sounds of dripping and labored breaths filled the void, Sarah's throat now sore from all her screams. Jareth released her slowly, careful of her stability should she fall.

His arms came to hold her sweetly, full of affection and admiration and calm. They lowered from their knees to a seated position together, Sarah's eyes closing in repose as Jareth's head bowed down to rest on her shoulder.

Several minutes passed like that, quiet and unmoving, unwanting and unneeding of any change. She held him back, leaned into him, let him hold her up like he so often did. And it was so quiet. So. Wonderfully. Quiet.

After a while though, Jareth reached down and ran a hand over her thigh. It was still slick.

"There was a lot this time," he said.

Sarah opened her eyes slowly and huffed.

"It's been a while, remember?"

Jareth didn't respond, not verbally at least. Instead, he kissed her shoulder and gave her a good squeeze. She sounded amused when saying that. It brought him relief. She'd squirted only once before, her first time apparently, and the experience had been...jarring for her. He was glad she seemed to enjoy it more the second time around.

He found himself blinking slowly as he stared down at the bed. Sarah was all but lax in his arms. He half wondered if she'd passed out just now.

They laid down beside one another fighting off deep breaths. Sarah turned to face him, and was happy to find an equal level of exhaustion wrought over his quiet, slow blinking face. It'd been a good night, she thought. A much needed break from it all.

She found herself grinning as she mused, wishing this night could drag on and on, and that the sun might never come up. Just her and him, and Lydia in a quiet room —what a perfect world that would be.

Oh course, the irony was not lost on her that the primary reason this moment was so peaceful was in fact because of Lydia's absence…but there was no reason to get technical.

Jareth opened his eyes when she giggled, quirking a brow at her and whatever thought she was keeping back. She pursed her lips at him. She looked happy.

"Happy Halloween," she said, those words stretching her grin wide. Jareth smiled back, something reflexive that warmed her heart.

He took hold of her hand and brought it to his lips, holding her gaze as he kissed her knuckles and softly replied, "Happy anniversary."

Sarah's grin pursed tightly as she gazed at him, feeling more happiness than she'd ever hoped for. It was crazy, really. A ridiculous concept. She never would have believed that her soulmate would be a king, let alone one that was so kind and funny, and not even human. And to think, she'd met him in a shoddy nightclub —But no, that wasn't where they met, was it? My...how funny Fate could be.

She rested her cheek on her arm as she watched him close his eyes, falling into a lax that she would soon mirror.

"Are you tired?" she asked, reaching out to pluck off stray strands of hair that had stuck to him. Jareth smirked with closed eyes.

"No," he said.

Sarah rolled her lip and tilted her head.

"Do you want to go back to the party?"

Jareth's grin etched wider.

"No."

He heard her hum in contentment and figured that meant she did not care to go back either. A few moments passed in silence, then he sensed something sad creeping beneath their peaceful repose when she eventually said,

"...I miss Lydia."

Jareth opened his eyes and peered straight into hers. Their faces were close. The intimacy of his hand brushing her hair behind her ear made her tangibly feel the kindness and affection she saw in him when he replied,

"Me too."

Sarah bit her lip and glanced away.

"It's only been four hours…" she said as if ashamed. Jareth hooked a finger under her jaw, turning her back.

"And?"

He was giving her the eye. The eye that she'd come to recognize as meaning ask and you shall receive, and she knew that if she so much as said the word, they would be back at her parents poking at Lydia who was probably sound asleep in her bed. The possibility made her want to laugh. That, and the idea of a certain little princess sleeping soundly.

Sarah lowered her eyes to the sliver of blanket between them, one brow arching ever so demure as she said, "And...I think you'll need to distract me." Then her eyes shot up to his. "You know...so I don't get sad."

Jareth laughed softly and pulled her over, laying her overtop him and resting his arms on her back. Sarah bit on her lower lip as she grinned down at his chest. Those feathers were still there. She couldn't stop herself from tracing them.

"One night worth a thousand deaths, remember?" she said, shrugging playfully. "Or...a thousand little deaths, I suppose. What do the French call it?"

The feeling of an index finger running up her spine made Sarah shiver. Jareth's grin turned lazy as she gazed up at her.

"La petite mort," he said. Sarah nodded.

"Ah. Right. Yeah...a thousand of those. That might be enough to get me through."

She tried not to snicker when his hands moved up her sides, embracing her warmly her before coming to sift through her hair. His eyes traveled the length of her face and back again, that grin curling just a bit higher on one side.

"Is that a challenge?" he asked.

Sarah, with a sudden wickedness about her, replied,

"I think it's a command."

---

Morning came less abruptly than it had the previous year. Sarah awoke by the light of dawn beaming through the windows. She was still nude, still laying on her stomach where she'd fallen after that one final romp.

Jareth was not with her, however, and that was one parallel that she did not enjoy drawing.

He was standing at the end of the bed, quietly dressing lest he rouse her. Sarah turned onto her side, propping herself up on the heel of her hand as she gandered at him.

30 seconds had passed and already the feeling was totally different. She didn't feel anxious this time. Uncertain. Afraid. She knew what would happen when the sun came up, but that was no longer her concern.

Jareth spotted her staring at him just as he finished threading the final button of his shirt. He even had his boots on already, she noticed, as he came over to sit beside her on the edge of the bed.

"I have to go," he said, lightly petting her shoulder. Sarah closed her eyes and smiled. The way he touched her...was just as sweet as last time too.

"I know," she said, opening her eyes and peering upward at him. "Do you want to get breakfast before we pick up Lydia?"

The look on his face made her suspect that his thoughts might mirror her own, that maybe his quiet smile was but a mask against the unpleasant nostalgia that was slowly creeping in around them.

He'd told her to wish for him that day. Even though she hadn't heard, having that knowledge now meant everything to her.

"Sure," he said, and the sun grew brighter.

Sarah closed her eyes when he leaned down, planting a kiss to her forehead that lingered, leaving behind a sense of reluctance when he pulled away. She reached out and clasped his hand, brushing over his knuckles with her thumb as he gradually faded from sight.

He grinned in the final moments before he vanished, mouthing words that, this time, she understood perfectly.

Within a minute he was gone. Just like before, he'd been pulled across worlds and left her alone. She did not lament this, however, nor sulk and cry. No, she stood to her feet clad in nothing but the cold air of morning and, after a deep exhale, said the words, "I wish Jareth, the Goblin King, would come back here this instant and spend the day with me before we pick up our daughter and bring her home."

She'd expected him to appear in front of her —he didn't— so she let out a yelp when she was abruptly lifted up from behind. Jareth had her in his arms in a flash, like he'd never been gone, carrying her over towards a bath he'd started running for her a few minutes prior.

"See how easy that was?" he said to her, peering down at her blindsided expression with a rather mischievous look. Sarah rolled her eyes away.

"Yeah. I'm a real professional at making wishes," she replied, reluctant to let go as he lowered her to the tub. He brought his face close to hers intentionally when he whispered, so impishly,

"And yet you made us waste so much time last year."

She held onto his hand when he let go of her, eyes narrowed as if her pride had somehow been challenged. Jareth paused and smiled widely, not needing to verbalize that this was a matter he would never let her live down.

"Yes, well, I know what you said to me this time," she said, making room for him by scooting back in the tub —Jareth took the hint and started unbuttoning the shirt he'd just put on. "And by the way?" she asked, waiting until he looked up and caught her eye before mouthing the words, through her own steamy veil, "I love you too."

---

A/N- Yayyyy we did it! Here's to the end of Night of a Thousand Deaths. I think (I can't be positive, but I do really think) that this is the longest individual smut scene I've written. I think it ended up somewhere around 13k words straight? Not including any of the earlier foreplay/sex scenes? lol. Wow. Really ended the story with a *bang*, didn't it? Ah, puns.

Anyway, I have a couple random things worth saying if you're still reading. Most predominantly, Jareth's costume. It was kind of incredibly specific, yeah? Well, I borrowed it from the character Der Tod (played by the breathtaking Yu Shirota) in the Japanese production of Elisabeth. It is my favorite musical and is purely fantastic (go watch it). Jareth's "angel" costume is actually Der Tod's final outfit at the end of the play. If you are unfamiliar with the show, Der Tod is the personification of Death, and thus the king of the Underworld. His *final form* is meant to transition him away from being a creature of shadow into one of light, a savior rather than villain, and I guess *cough* an angel. So yeah. I thought that would be perfect for Jareth in this hot pile of sexual garbage XD

Um, what else? How do we feel about the name Lydia? I really like that name, but I had a hard time deciding on it for this story. Oh well. It's too late now. Also, random, Party City is a retail chain that sells things for parties (lol) and also Halloween décor in my region. Idk how widespread they are, so I figured I'd clarify in case that little detail did not register with anyone. Um...I think that's it. If I remember anything else, I'll come back and update this note.

Thanks to all for following this story over the last year —given that I thought it would be a one shot, not a full on episodic series. Your feedback has been really motivating, and I'm glad you've enjoyed it so much. I hope you enjoyed this chapter too. Now, back to my other wips :P