The air was filled with the sounds of revelry. Champagne flutes clinking, fans fluttering, shoes tapping across the ballroom floor in time to music that floated through the air. Sarah would never get used to this being her reality instead of her dream.
A gloved hand appeared to her side, offering its palm to her. "Your Majesty, may I have this dance?"
Sarah turned her attention away from the courtiers that circled around her and directed it to the man that stood next to her. A man who was decidedly not her husband.
He was the young foppish prince of a neighboring kingdom. One whose trade they heavily relied on. She was torn. To deny him could put her kingdom in jeopardy if he took offense. To accept would put her in jeopardy.
"I would be delighted." She smiled graciously, placing her hand in his, wincing as he brought it to his lips with a wet kiss to the back of her fingers. She should have let this fool down gently, tail tucked between his legs. It would have been a mercy she now realized. For what's a little pride between friends?
If the king had seen any of this they were both doomed. Without a doubt, he would find a way to put this prince in his place. But what would he do with her?
Jareth watched the slimy prince pull his wife to the dance floor as he mingled with guests, never staying in one spot long. How dare he approach her with such common baseness? Speaking to her. Touching her. That boy would never have dared if she had been by his side where she belonged. But, alas, his dear Sarah had ideas about her duties as queen being less an extension of the king and more of an independent sovereign working with him. It was precious, really.
He couldn't decide who needed to be taught who the absolute monarch in this kingdom was more. The simpering prince. Or his beautiful queen.
Though he desired nothing more than to thrash the youth within an inch of his life, he had to remain calm for the good of his kingdom. His parents were firm and fair rulers. Clever enough to have amassed the trade of all the surrounding kingdoms. It would do no good to slight them even though their offspring deserved whatever punishment he deemed fit.
So that left his bride. If she needed a reminder of what their exchanged vows meant when they married, then so be it. Perhaps then in the future, she will remember to whom she belonged.
A waltz began, the young Fae before her was darker in complexion, as people of The Winter Court tended to be, which contrasted greatly with his silver-grey hair that caught the light like tinsel twisted into complicated braids that flowed down his back. His eyes were a startling icy blue that matched the color of his jewel-encrusted jacket. He pulled her close, too close, as he led her around the floor.
Sarah discreetly looked at the throng of Faes gathered around the dancing partners, but that shock of feathered tawny hair was nowhere to be seen. Their twirling came to a halt, Sarah tripping into the prince as his body once moving in fluid motions became a statue.
"I believe this dance is mine," a baritone drawl remarked behind the prince.
The young royal bowed to Jareth, his hands dropping from Sarah's body. "Of course, Your Majesty." He nodded to Sarah before retreating, leaving Sarah alone with the Fae King.
Jareth's thumb trailed up the center of her palm as he raised her hand. His fingers wrapped tightly around her wrist before sweeping Sarah into the crowd, blending in with the dozens of dance partners with ease. His demeanor was placid. His eyes never meeting hers but staring straight ahead. His grip was tight, pressing them together, allowing her no freedom to second guess his movements.
He led her with the confidence that he always maintained, making it easy for Sarah to allow herself to follow, their bodies movie in perfect tandem as he took over. She stared at his brooch pinned atop his ruffled laced cravat, watching the way each facet reflected the candlelight above.
Navigating the crowds, he deftly steered her towards one of the many towering french doors that opened into the gardens. Before anyone took notice he led his wife outside, ending their dance at the threshold hold and pulling her into the night.
Sarah resisted, but his grasp only hardened. "Jareth? Where are we-"
"Come." He continued to stalk forward entering the hedge maze, following the twists and turns.
She lost track of where they were long before he stopped, pushing her into a large alcove cut into the foliage, a towering elm growing its center, anchoring her before him. Her bare shoulders pressed against the broad trunk, sharp bark digging into her skin.
"Is this necessary?" she huffed as she caught her breath. Her dress would be ruined if he kept this up not to mention her hair. Hours curling, adorning it with diamonds that shone against the dark tresses like stars in the night sky.
He stared down at her, the moonlight highlighting the sharp angles of his face. His brow raised. "Necessary? Was it necessary for that boy to touch you?" His finger twirled a curl at her temple, before stroking her cheek.
She bristled at his tone. "Really? I accepted a dance from the son of our wealthiest allies. What was I supposed to do?"
His hand dropped, his eyes cutting into hers. "Tell him no. Tell him to go to hell. Tell him that he is not fit to lick your boots let alone dance with you."
Sarah rolled her eyes. The pedestal on which she had been placed always felt precarious. His devotion hard to accept when she viewed herself against the Fae. Ethereal beings who possessed magic of which she could only dream. "I'm flattered, but you are being ridiculous. It was just a dance."
"I recall having your first dance." He stared at his wife, her eyes wide as they were when they first met as she watched him carefully. She had always belonged to him. Always would. He wouldn't share her with anyone in any way. "Call me selfish, but I don't ever want anyone else to touch you."
Her lips parted to argue, but no words issued as his lips crashed against hers and all thought flew from her mind. His tongue plunged into her mouth. His hands spanned her jaw, tilting her head back, granting him easier access to her mouth.
She welcomed the intrusion wantonly, moaning into his mouth. His teeth nipped and sucked her bottom lip, smearing whatever lip stain had lasted this far into the night. Her hands carded through his flaxen hair as his hands fell from her face.
She felt the tugs at her bodice before her brain comprehended the consequences of his clever fingers. The jeweled triskelion frog closures holding the satin halves of her bodice together were undone, her dress sagged off her shoulders to her elbows, breasts exposed as the fabric fell to her waist.
The tree scratched at her back. She barely registered her state of undress until she heard laughter in the distance. Feebly, she pushed at Jareth, breaking their kiss. She fumbled for her dress. A snap of his leather-encased fingers, and she found herself restrained. Tied to the tree trunk with a length of rope around her waist, her arms pinned by her sides.
His mouth enveloped her nipple, sucking it between his teeth. Lavishing attention between her breasts in turn, he kneaded, kissed, and suckled the soft curves of her body until she strained to arch into him.
Dropping to his knees before his queen, he raked up her skirts forcing her to fist handfuls of fabric. She was bare beneath her skirts. His cock strained against his pants at the sight, knowing she had chosen to forego such garments, that as much as she would deny it later she had been waiting for him all night. His hands trailed up her calf, dipping into the hollow behind her knee, lifting her leg over his shoulder. Her cunt spread before him glistening in the moonlight.
Her breath hitched, a low moan vibrated in her throat as his tongue swept through her slit in on broad stroke. He traced every delicate inch, memorizing the way she moved, keened, the way she struggled for release. His fingers spread her lips, he fixed his mouth over her clit, sucking her sensitive bud until her thigh shook. Tugging his gloves off, desperate to feel her wet warmth he slid his long finger inside her stroking her as his tongue circled her clit. He pumped adding another finger to the first. Her muscles fluttered. Hips rocked. Her body shuddered, voice crying out, arousal dripped down his hand as she came.
Her eyes were unfocused. Her knees buckled as he lowered her leg, her weight held by the ropes that bound her. His tall form became clear as he stood, his fingers in his mouth sucking them clean. His eyes glittered under hooded lids, appraising her. Pressing himself against her, she tasted herself on his lips as he kissed her once more.
The fantasies she created while in the arms of her few mortal lovers in her life had never come close to the reality of being the object of lust to a Fae. His body exuded magic and his touch elicited reactions she didn't know possible. Every tryst opened her eyes to the possibilities of dreams and wishes yet unimagined.
Jareth trailed his mouth down her jaw to her ear. His gloved hands cupped the weight of her breast, her nipple pebbling against his palm as the night air caressed it. He sucked the tender flesh of her neck, her pulse fluttering furiously as he left his marks on her pale skin. His dominion over his wife would no longer be questioned in the eyes of the aristocracy with their faithless marriages and contrived intrigues.
Desperation clawed at his resolve, he couldn't wait any longer. He needed to lose himself in her. The act itself heightened by the affection in her touch, the ardor of her cries, the artlessness of the love he saw reflected in those green eyes. She alone could move him to feel emotions he had once deemed insignificant.
The sound of buttons was her only warning before he lifted her thighs spreading them wide and thrust into her in quick succession. He buried himself to the hilt meeting little resistance from her body. She stretched around him with ease as he filled her.
The tree scraped against her back with every snap of his hips. Her hair tangled in the frayed veins of bark. The pain only intensified her pleasure. Her hands dropped her skirts, bracing against the trunk, her nails scratching the wood in return.
His hand gently gripped her slender neck. "Mine," he growled, setting a punishing pace. "Only mine."
"Yes," she hissed through clenched teeth, wrapping her legs around his waist. The base of his cock rubbed her swollen overstimulated clit sending another orgasm crashing through her. Her throat was raw from her cries.
Jareth groaned as she came around him. Her heat squeezing him. If ever he had believed in heaven, this would be how it felt. It took him only a few more strokes to find his own release. His pace stuttered as he came deep within her, wishing that moment could last forever.
There would be plenty of opportunity to take his time later, but unfortunately, they had guests to return to. He sighed, leaning forward, his forehead resting on her bare shoulder. The only sound besides the nightly chorus of crickets and cicadas were the heavy pants as they tried to steady their breathing and calm the pounding of their hearts.
Jareth withdrew, tucking himself away before lowering her legs to the ground and loosening the ropes with magic.
Sarah stood still, content to let him fasten the halves of her bodice as she basked in the afterglow of their rendezvous. Why had they come out here again?
She gingerly felt her swollen lips and patted her hair which tumbled down her back. She felt a rush of moisture drip down her thighs. Looking at the arm her handsome husband offered, she shook her head. "I need to go freshen up. I must look awful."
Jareth gazed at her disheveled state. Hair fallen from pins, jeweled stars dangling askew. Scratches adorned her shoulders. Bruises dappled her neck. Wrinkles creased her once pristine gown. She looked well and truly fucked. "You've never been lovelier."
Meeting his eyes, she knew he meant it. Knew he'd never allow her to change a hair on her head right now. He wanted everyone to see her as she was and a part of her did too. For however much this was his way of claiming her, it also showcased her hold over him.
He led her into the ballroom. All eyes fell on them. His chest swelled with pride as he observed the way she squared her shoulders and lifted her chin in defiance of any judgment.
They would all know to who she belonged without question. No man would dare approach what was his. No woman would dare reproach that which they were jealous of. He pulled at her waist, stealing one last kiss. "Remember, love. The final dance belongs to me."
Notes: Let me know what you think! Also, yes I am going to get back to The Thorns Which It Bears. I have two more chapters of my Negan fic to finish and then I will be devoting my energy to that story. I have a lot more Labyrinth ideas coming but I need a break from writing series to just write some filthy smut. lol.