Chapter Twenty-Two: Proclamation of Power
"Goblin King! Jareth! Face me!" Sarah demanded, her voice near the screaming
level as she stomped about with anger in her wild eyes.
She stopped her ranting, breath coming in deep gasps as she tried in desperation to
calm herself in some way. Sarah waited silently, glancing about the room. Her gaze
flicked from the dropped diary, which laid open, face down, upon the floor, pages askew
and crinkled; towards the open window, which allowed a faint breeze to enter into her
room from the cool night outside.
A trace of lightning in the far off distance was followed briefly by the slightest
rumble of thunder. A storm, not comparable to the one Sarah had experienced several
nights earlier, was on the way. She stalked towards the window, and, pausing to just gaze
into the night, drew the glass doors shut firmly. Instantly the curtains liveliness died and
ceased their whirling dance created by the wind.
He had not come, had not listened to her angered calls for his presence. Sarah
pressed her warm forehead against the smooth, cool surface of the unmarked glass. She
had begged for him to be gone forever from her life, and now, when she at last called for
the fickle Goblin King, he did not come.
Sarah straightened herself and watched another spark of lightning tracing a path to
the ground, far off, too far to matter. She turned her eyes away from the scene outside,
and allowed the heavy curtains to fall over the glass, blocking whatever view she had left.
Then she turned...
...and was at once met with the cool, calculating gaze of mismatched eyes, burning
into her, as cold as ice. Sarah gasped, stepping back without a thought of the anger which
had once burned in her only a moment earlier. His elegantly arched eyebrows rose, in
question perhaps, and a smile, feral in nature, graced his thin lips.
"Jareth," she whispered, now approaching him as her power returned after the
shock.
He bowed, grandly, mockingly, and then turned those hypnotizing eyes upwards,
from his genuflecting stance. Sarah swallowed, unable to deny the fact that his gaze still
affected her, no matter what horrid secrets laid buried in his past.
The thought of his past, and the diary, and what she had read, broke the spell he
had suddenly placed over her. Sarah rushed towards him, as he rose to full imposing
height, and glared upwards. He nearly reached out to caress her cheek, but she forced his
hand away, fury raging throughout her.
"How could you? She loved you!" Sarah stated, her voice venomous in its serious
tones.
Jareth cocked his head, confusion perhaps lacing those actions and movements.
He had not expected these accusations. What was the reason, after all, for Sarah to blame
him for another? Then he saw it, the diary, resting upon the ground as if it belonged in
this time. She had read what Emelia had written, and had decided to judge him solely by
what was etched forever on those old pages bound by the velvet covers.
"Do not judge me so soon, if you will not hear the continuation of the story,
Sarah," Jareth warned, his original cocky manner gone entirely as he recalled what had
already been through his memory earlier that day.
Sarah raced towards the diary and scooped it up, cradling it protectively against
her chest. She glared towards Jareth, as the Goblin King leaned against the post of the
bed, looking off into nothingness, and becoming suddenly quite melancholy in his body
language.
"You killed her," Sarah accused viciously, her words slicing straight through
Jareth's protective layers.
"I did not!!" he roared, turning on her and advancing with genuine malicious
intent.
He stood before her, the grand king he had always been. Her body shivered, and
she stepped away, if only to create more space between them. She did not, however,
avert her eyes once. She would not leave, not back down, not when she had at last found
something that could be considered a weak spot in Jareth's being.
She stabbed forwards, punctuating each step with more accusations, brought on
from what had been read in the old diary.
"You took her heart, Jareth, and crushed it! Soiled her image, promising a life
with you that never occurred! Then, when at last you two were to meet, she faced the
wilds of the weather, nearly dying, only to be saved by her father, and taken to be locked
away, as some criminal would, with a secret. Insanity crept in, and she ended it all in this
house, in her room, where she allowed fire to destroy her sadness!" Sarah stopped
suddenly at the change she witnessed in the Goblin King.
He bowed his head, golden locks spilling around his face. He would not look up,
would not try to argue, at least not at that time. Her words had cut him to ribbons inside,
had taken what was left of his power and dwindled it to scarcely nothing. When at last he
managed to look at this gallant opponent and occasional love-interest, he was no longer
the Jareth she had first seen in her room.
Still, he did not fall easily. He shook his head, disagreeing with all she had
claimed, and trying to rebut, but finding his mouth unable to discover words to use. Sarah
herself was in shock, unable to believe that she had bested him. The first time, she could
admit, was by luck, and this, this was not what she had anticipated in the least.
"As I said, that book tells only half a tale, Sarah, one that you leap to accept so as
to damage me in this low manner. I believed you above such actions," Jareth stated, his
already pale skin nearing the shade of ash as he spoke.
Sarah tried to interject, for she had not intended such pain inflicted upon Jareth.
She had only wanted him gone from her life, so that she could live as others did. Now, as
she watched the Fae king faltering under her brutal onslaught of words, a twinge of regret
lit in her heart, and she begged to take it all away. For now, she even doubted what she
had believed for so long, that she did not want this man in her life.
"I loved Emily, despite what you believe. I would have taken her with me
anywhere, as long as we were together. I did return, which is what that diary does not
say, and took the flames from her mortal body. The body died, since I was too late. I
wanted her to live a life without me, normally, as you so often put it, Sarah. The royalty
in the Underground frown upon relationships between mortals and those of the Fae,"
Jareth twirled about, his gray cloak brushing against Sarah in the process, and raising a
scent of magic, fantasy, and all that surrounded Jareth.
Her heart ached with the knowledge that suddenly fell upon her. Sarah bit her lips,
trying in vain to fight back emotions which were quickly rising to the surface. It was no
use to deny what she felt now, for, more than ever, she needed him. Sarah slid the diary
beneath her bed, and, in one fluid movement, made her way to her feet and placed her
hands gently upon Jareth's shoulders.
He turned his head slightly, eyes momentarily averted from the window out of
which he had chosen to look. She rested her head against his back, taking in the aura
which resonated all about him. Sarah closed her chestnut eyes, and leaned against him,
feeling his breaths, his heart, his very essence as she at last threw down her guard.
Jareth turned, as she stepped away from his body. They stood there, gazing into
each others eyes, which burned with thousands of unanswered questions, some of which
would remain so forever. Then, before he could move, Sarah took the first step and
pressed her finger firmly to his lips, so as to quiet the king.
"I said once that 'you had no power over me', which was wrong. Your influence
in my life has never faded, even when I believed myself cured. What you failed to
mention, Jareth, is that I have power over you as well, more than you can imagine," she
whispered and then stepped away from Jareth with a brief smile.
She remained still, seriousness bridging over other feelings, as if this too was a
duty required to be performed before she could advance. Still, a piece of her yearned for
it to be more, for all of this to continue on and for a sort of fantasy fairytale to claim her
life in its grips. Life was not that way, not filled with magic and gallant young knights
who raced to take the damsel in distress to their far-off kingdom. No, in reality those
knights came in the form of eccentric millionaires and cocky kings.
She loosed her ponytail, tossing the white hair band to the ground, where it
remained. Then, shaking her head as the chestnut locks, shimmering in the lamp light,
spread out in glorious waves upon her shoulders and down her back, she caught Jareth's
eyes. He was questioning the situation, obviously willing to partake in what she would
soon offer, but still wondering what had caused this sudden change in her character.
Sarah paid little heed to Jareth's doubts about what she intended, for she had
discovered the strength within her soul, and so knew of the power she could now claim
over the Goblin King. She grasped the bulky sweater, which had served to keep her warm
during the long hours spent in the chilled theatre, and removed it from her body.
Once more her mass of hair cascaded, this time resting on silken skin, and riding
the subtle curve of her spine, as it moved downwards. She was flawless, and stood,
offering herself to Jareth as the sweater met the same fate as her hair band had. Her
breath came in short, shaking gasps, which showed with the rise and fall of her chest.
Sarah waited, silent, wondering if he would ever step from the current spot he occupied.
Jareth walked forward, his eyes racing over her partially bared figure, and touched
her soft shoulder, running the silken palm of his hand down, until it rested on her waist.
Sarah shivered, gazing into those magical eyes, so very different from any she had ever
seen in her world. His other hand slid downwards as well, interlocking at her back, and
urging her to move forwards, and against him.
They met, their lips connecting them together, and filling the distance which
remained, with a fury of passion. Jareth deepened the kiss, hunger abounding free, and his
hands began working along her spine, raising shivers and gooseflesh across the entire
expanse of her skin.
Sarah tore at his silken poet's shirt. Grappling with countless pearl buttons, which
she found entirely annoying to undo. Sarah, instead, gripped the fine fabric within her
tightened fists and ripped the shimmering buttons from their holes in that one movement.
Jareth cared little about the destruction his clothing had faced, and allowed it to slide to
the ground, crumpling.
"I need you now," Sarah whispered against his ear, her warm breath sending its
effect along his body.
He lifted her into his arms at that very instant, never once breaking the kisses,
which ran across her cheek, down her neck. Sarah's arms wrapped about his neck, her
fingers tracing a path along his shoulder blades, familiarizing herself with every contour of
his unbelievable body.
She landed atop her bed, cast between pillows of every shape and size. Velveteen
material of one cradled her head, as she gazed seductively towards the man whom
observed her. It was nearly like her dream, that which she feared the most, but found the
need for it to happen greater, greater even than her terror. She swallowed, her nerves
faltering as his eyes rushed over her, gracing each section of her form with several seconds
of homage.
Then he bent over her, pulling so near that she felt as if she would scream, but only
begged him to hurry, to continue, to at last quench the fire which had burned since she
first saw him, in her parent's room, when she had been but fifteen. Then he had been
clothed in menace, but her teenage mind had been attracted to the mystique which
encompassed his every movement, and that dance, those intoxicating hands, and the near
touch of their lips as she pulled away to leave the enchanted dream, and rescue her
brother. This was what that had all been leading to, this the peak of their passion at last
allowed to vent as his lips raced down her chest.
He looped his hands within the elastic waistband of the sweats she had donned for
the work in which she had partaken. Their glamour was lacking altogether, but never had
she suspected that she would be in such a situation as was currently unraveling in her
chambers. If the idea had once entered her mind then, perhaps, given the preconception of
nerves and her worries about appearance, the attire she was currently found in (though it
seemed that the state of attire would soon be gone from her body) would have been
discarded before considered.
The soft material gently slipped from about her hips, sliding submissively down the
curves of her legs. She shivered, the evident chill in the room that much more attacking
when the last stitch of garments she had bore was removed. Her socks, however,
remained, even when all else had been discarded of, and Jareth returned, running his hands
across her bare flesh in a manner which drove her nearly from her mind.
They dove into waters of intense primal pleasures, unknown and mysterious to all
but the rarest form of lovers. Jareth's caresses ran down her thighs, parting those sculpted
legs, muscles taught and tightened, as anticipation wrought itself within the deepest
portion of Sarah's gut. His fingertips graced her inner thigh, racing against each other,
and sending sensations she had only dared to dream in her most secretive times.
For a brief and fleeting moment that magical, nearly vibrating touch, tantalized the
innermost core of her passion. She squirmed at the gracing pleasure which arose as a fire,
burning to the extremes of blazing nearly out of control, and then promptly sizzled back to
that of dull flames, forever taunting, as his hand wove its way across her firm abdomen.
He stroked the gentle, subtle upwards curve of her breast, until at last touching her lips, so
soft, and perfect.
"Jareth," Sarah whispered, her voice cracking noticeably, suffering from the
overwhelming emotions which rained down upon her.
Jareth turned his majestic eyes downwards, and stared deeply into her lovely face.
A smile lit his lips, one so true that it made Sarah ache with a feeling of surety, of near
love, just to look into his gaze. She returned his contented smile, with one of her own,
and then reached out to stroke her delicate hands through his golden mass of hair.
Without a single movement on Jareth's part, the entire room filled with a
breathtaking golden luminance. It shrouded the two lovers, intertwining between their
bodies, and literally bathing them in the resplendent highlights of magic. Sarah watched
the light in awe, as Jareth's lips ran down her neck. And suddenly, she no longer felt the
silken material of his tight pants, restricting the movement of their flesh, together.
She wrapped her arms around his back, feeling muscles quiver with pent-up
excitement, lust. She rolled her head back, feeling them become one as he raised his hips,
ever so slightly, beginning the most ancient act of love, as sublime pleasures rolled through
the liquid gold overhead, basking in intoxicating magic.
Sarah closed her eyes, and found his lips to meet her own. It felt as if the entire
world had stopped, had become non-existent, so as to offer this time of such divine
intervention to take place.
All had become combined. Their minds delved within each other, as physical
bodies did the same. She could feel his thoughts, his emotions, deep secrets which laid
hidden far beneath that mask he wore, were suddenly surfacing behind her closed eyes.
And a glorious resonance of magical proportions enshrouded her body. She could feel his
power, his essence, the magic that dwelled within him, racing through her as everything
else took place. This only heightened the entire experience.
Her eyes snapped open, as the power engorging her mortal soul became
overwhelming. She clutched at Jareth, his skin standing out in a fine sheen of sweat, and
allowed the energy to burst forth, against him. All around the golden shower continued,
and then faded, faded into nothingness to leave the normal environment of her room, of
Fontridge, of reality.
* * * * * * * *
Sarah laid her head upon his chest, her flushed cheek resting against his ribcage,
and rose with each deep breath he took. His hand ran along her spine, tracing the curve of
her back, only to move upwards again and caress her shoulders. She could have remained
there for life, laying in the arms of the Goblin King, the scent of perspiration, intermingled
with that of shampoo and magic, resting within the single sheet which laid upon their
bodies.
She could nearly imagine Jareth taking her from this place, to his castle, where
they could live together. The image of the fantasy future came to her mind, as exhaustion
set in, claiming her consciousness, and driving the young woman into a contented sleep.
All the while Jareth continued to stroke her bare skin, gazing into her serene face, as she
drowsed upon his chest.
The clock upon the wall chimed midnight, and he could almost hear the tell-tale
sound of the thirteenth hour, ringing in the Underground, while he, once more,
disregarded the laws. His brother had scarcely left when Sarah's cries rose to his ears,
those which he could not ignore.
Now his kingdom was abandoned again, and he dwelled in the company of a
mortal. No one had seen, and so his secret was safe for the time being. Still, the sickening
reality struck him, and Jareth knew deep within, that this could not continue. He could
not sneak about like a criminal, daring to spend few fleeting hours in her company, while
the Underground slept.
He rose carefully, resting a pillow beneath her heavy head. It would not do to be
there when she awakened, or the rest of the manor did, for that matter. All Hell would
break lose, should a strange man be seen in lovely Sarah's bed. Peter, most certainly,
would find it unacceptable.
There was something about the playwright, that did not settle with Jareth. A
mannerism, or perhaps the way the man looked at Sarah. It was odd, but Peter remained
bathed in mystery, despite Jareth's powers, crystals, and spells he dare send upon the man.
It was not a case to be dwelled upon at the hour, however, for now was the time to take
his leave.
Jareth swept himself into his traveling form, and, by way of the suddenly opened
window, dove into the night sky. His white feathers contrasting against the black, as he
soared onwards, back to his kingdom.
All the while, Sarah slept soundly in her bed. She did not dream, but felt the
presence of her newly acquired lover about her during her rest. It was only when she
awakened, early in the grand and lovely morning, that she realized he had gone. It was
not a great surprise, for Jareth could not possibly remain through the duration of the night.
Still a part of her continued to long for him, even while she dressed, and prepared herself
for another day of rehearsals.
"Goblin King! Jareth! Face me!" Sarah demanded, her voice near the screaming
level as she stomped about with anger in her wild eyes.
She stopped her ranting, breath coming in deep gasps as she tried in desperation to
calm herself in some way. Sarah waited silently, glancing about the room. Her gaze
flicked from the dropped diary, which laid open, face down, upon the floor, pages askew
and crinkled; towards the open window, which allowed a faint breeze to enter into her
room from the cool night outside.
A trace of lightning in the far off distance was followed briefly by the slightest
rumble of thunder. A storm, not comparable to the one Sarah had experienced several
nights earlier, was on the way. She stalked towards the window, and, pausing to just gaze
into the night, drew the glass doors shut firmly. Instantly the curtains liveliness died and
ceased their whirling dance created by the wind.
He had not come, had not listened to her angered calls for his presence. Sarah
pressed her warm forehead against the smooth, cool surface of the unmarked glass. She
had begged for him to be gone forever from her life, and now, when she at last called for
the fickle Goblin King, he did not come.
Sarah straightened herself and watched another spark of lightning tracing a path to
the ground, far off, too far to matter. She turned her eyes away from the scene outside,
and allowed the heavy curtains to fall over the glass, blocking whatever view she had left.
Then she turned...
...and was at once met with the cool, calculating gaze of mismatched eyes, burning
into her, as cold as ice. Sarah gasped, stepping back without a thought of the anger which
had once burned in her only a moment earlier. His elegantly arched eyebrows rose, in
question perhaps, and a smile, feral in nature, graced his thin lips.
"Jareth," she whispered, now approaching him as her power returned after the
shock.
He bowed, grandly, mockingly, and then turned those hypnotizing eyes upwards,
from his genuflecting stance. Sarah swallowed, unable to deny the fact that his gaze still
affected her, no matter what horrid secrets laid buried in his past.
The thought of his past, and the diary, and what she had read, broke the spell he
had suddenly placed over her. Sarah rushed towards him, as he rose to full imposing
height, and glared upwards. He nearly reached out to caress her cheek, but she forced his
hand away, fury raging throughout her.
"How could you? She loved you!" Sarah stated, her voice venomous in its serious
tones.
Jareth cocked his head, confusion perhaps lacing those actions and movements.
He had not expected these accusations. What was the reason, after all, for Sarah to blame
him for another? Then he saw it, the diary, resting upon the ground as if it belonged in
this time. She had read what Emelia had written, and had decided to judge him solely by
what was etched forever on those old pages bound by the velvet covers.
"Do not judge me so soon, if you will not hear the continuation of the story,
Sarah," Jareth warned, his original cocky manner gone entirely as he recalled what had
already been through his memory earlier that day.
Sarah raced towards the diary and scooped it up, cradling it protectively against
her chest. She glared towards Jareth, as the Goblin King leaned against the post of the
bed, looking off into nothingness, and becoming suddenly quite melancholy in his body
language.
"You killed her," Sarah accused viciously, her words slicing straight through
Jareth's protective layers.
"I did not!!" he roared, turning on her and advancing with genuine malicious
intent.
He stood before her, the grand king he had always been. Her body shivered, and
she stepped away, if only to create more space between them. She did not, however,
avert her eyes once. She would not leave, not back down, not when she had at last found
something that could be considered a weak spot in Jareth's being.
She stabbed forwards, punctuating each step with more accusations, brought on
from what had been read in the old diary.
"You took her heart, Jareth, and crushed it! Soiled her image, promising a life
with you that never occurred! Then, when at last you two were to meet, she faced the
wilds of the weather, nearly dying, only to be saved by her father, and taken to be locked
away, as some criminal would, with a secret. Insanity crept in, and she ended it all in this
house, in her room, where she allowed fire to destroy her sadness!" Sarah stopped
suddenly at the change she witnessed in the Goblin King.
He bowed his head, golden locks spilling around his face. He would not look up,
would not try to argue, at least not at that time. Her words had cut him to ribbons inside,
had taken what was left of his power and dwindled it to scarcely nothing. When at last he
managed to look at this gallant opponent and occasional love-interest, he was no longer
the Jareth she had first seen in her room.
Still, he did not fall easily. He shook his head, disagreeing with all she had
claimed, and trying to rebut, but finding his mouth unable to discover words to use. Sarah
herself was in shock, unable to believe that she had bested him. The first time, she could
admit, was by luck, and this, this was not what she had anticipated in the least.
"As I said, that book tells only half a tale, Sarah, one that you leap to accept so as
to damage me in this low manner. I believed you above such actions," Jareth stated, his
already pale skin nearing the shade of ash as he spoke.
Sarah tried to interject, for she had not intended such pain inflicted upon Jareth.
She had only wanted him gone from her life, so that she could live as others did. Now, as
she watched the Fae king faltering under her brutal onslaught of words, a twinge of regret
lit in her heart, and she begged to take it all away. For now, she even doubted what she
had believed for so long, that she did not want this man in her life.
"I loved Emily, despite what you believe. I would have taken her with me
anywhere, as long as we were together. I did return, which is what that diary does not
say, and took the flames from her mortal body. The body died, since I was too late. I
wanted her to live a life without me, normally, as you so often put it, Sarah. The royalty
in the Underground frown upon relationships between mortals and those of the Fae,"
Jareth twirled about, his gray cloak brushing against Sarah in the process, and raising a
scent of magic, fantasy, and all that surrounded Jareth.
Her heart ached with the knowledge that suddenly fell upon her. Sarah bit her lips,
trying in vain to fight back emotions which were quickly rising to the surface. It was no
use to deny what she felt now, for, more than ever, she needed him. Sarah slid the diary
beneath her bed, and, in one fluid movement, made her way to her feet and placed her
hands gently upon Jareth's shoulders.
He turned his head slightly, eyes momentarily averted from the window out of
which he had chosen to look. She rested her head against his back, taking in the aura
which resonated all about him. Sarah closed her chestnut eyes, and leaned against him,
feeling his breaths, his heart, his very essence as she at last threw down her guard.
Jareth turned, as she stepped away from his body. They stood there, gazing into
each others eyes, which burned with thousands of unanswered questions, some of which
would remain so forever. Then, before he could move, Sarah took the first step and
pressed her finger firmly to his lips, so as to quiet the king.
"I said once that 'you had no power over me', which was wrong. Your influence
in my life has never faded, even when I believed myself cured. What you failed to
mention, Jareth, is that I have power over you as well, more than you can imagine," she
whispered and then stepped away from Jareth with a brief smile.
She remained still, seriousness bridging over other feelings, as if this too was a
duty required to be performed before she could advance. Still, a piece of her yearned for
it to be more, for all of this to continue on and for a sort of fantasy fairytale to claim her
life in its grips. Life was not that way, not filled with magic and gallant young knights
who raced to take the damsel in distress to their far-off kingdom. No, in reality those
knights came in the form of eccentric millionaires and cocky kings.
She loosed her ponytail, tossing the white hair band to the ground, where it
remained. Then, shaking her head as the chestnut locks, shimmering in the lamp light,
spread out in glorious waves upon her shoulders and down her back, she caught Jareth's
eyes. He was questioning the situation, obviously willing to partake in what she would
soon offer, but still wondering what had caused this sudden change in her character.
Sarah paid little heed to Jareth's doubts about what she intended, for she had
discovered the strength within her soul, and so knew of the power she could now claim
over the Goblin King. She grasped the bulky sweater, which had served to keep her warm
during the long hours spent in the chilled theatre, and removed it from her body.
Once more her mass of hair cascaded, this time resting on silken skin, and riding
the subtle curve of her spine, as it moved downwards. She was flawless, and stood,
offering herself to Jareth as the sweater met the same fate as her hair band had. Her
breath came in short, shaking gasps, which showed with the rise and fall of her chest.
Sarah waited, silent, wondering if he would ever step from the current spot he occupied.
Jareth walked forward, his eyes racing over her partially bared figure, and touched
her soft shoulder, running the silken palm of his hand down, until it rested on her waist.
Sarah shivered, gazing into those magical eyes, so very different from any she had ever
seen in her world. His other hand slid downwards as well, interlocking at her back, and
urging her to move forwards, and against him.
They met, their lips connecting them together, and filling the distance which
remained, with a fury of passion. Jareth deepened the kiss, hunger abounding free, and his
hands began working along her spine, raising shivers and gooseflesh across the entire
expanse of her skin.
Sarah tore at his silken poet's shirt. Grappling with countless pearl buttons, which
she found entirely annoying to undo. Sarah, instead, gripped the fine fabric within her
tightened fists and ripped the shimmering buttons from their holes in that one movement.
Jareth cared little about the destruction his clothing had faced, and allowed it to slide to
the ground, crumpling.
"I need you now," Sarah whispered against his ear, her warm breath sending its
effect along his body.
He lifted her into his arms at that very instant, never once breaking the kisses,
which ran across her cheek, down her neck. Sarah's arms wrapped about his neck, her
fingers tracing a path along his shoulder blades, familiarizing herself with every contour of
his unbelievable body.
She landed atop her bed, cast between pillows of every shape and size. Velveteen
material of one cradled her head, as she gazed seductively towards the man whom
observed her. It was nearly like her dream, that which she feared the most, but found the
need for it to happen greater, greater even than her terror. She swallowed, her nerves
faltering as his eyes rushed over her, gracing each section of her form with several seconds
of homage.
Then he bent over her, pulling so near that she felt as if she would scream, but only
begged him to hurry, to continue, to at last quench the fire which had burned since she
first saw him, in her parent's room, when she had been but fifteen. Then he had been
clothed in menace, but her teenage mind had been attracted to the mystique which
encompassed his every movement, and that dance, those intoxicating hands, and the near
touch of their lips as she pulled away to leave the enchanted dream, and rescue her
brother. This was what that had all been leading to, this the peak of their passion at last
allowed to vent as his lips raced down her chest.
He looped his hands within the elastic waistband of the sweats she had donned for
the work in which she had partaken. Their glamour was lacking altogether, but never had
she suspected that she would be in such a situation as was currently unraveling in her
chambers. If the idea had once entered her mind then, perhaps, given the preconception of
nerves and her worries about appearance, the attire she was currently found in (though it
seemed that the state of attire would soon be gone from her body) would have been
discarded before considered.
The soft material gently slipped from about her hips, sliding submissively down the
curves of her legs. She shivered, the evident chill in the room that much more attacking
when the last stitch of garments she had bore was removed. Her socks, however,
remained, even when all else had been discarded of, and Jareth returned, running his hands
across her bare flesh in a manner which drove her nearly from her mind.
They dove into waters of intense primal pleasures, unknown and mysterious to all
but the rarest form of lovers. Jareth's caresses ran down her thighs, parting those sculpted
legs, muscles taught and tightened, as anticipation wrought itself within the deepest
portion of Sarah's gut. His fingertips graced her inner thigh, racing against each other,
and sending sensations she had only dared to dream in her most secretive times.
For a brief and fleeting moment that magical, nearly vibrating touch, tantalized the
innermost core of her passion. She squirmed at the gracing pleasure which arose as a fire,
burning to the extremes of blazing nearly out of control, and then promptly sizzled back to
that of dull flames, forever taunting, as his hand wove its way across her firm abdomen.
He stroked the gentle, subtle upwards curve of her breast, until at last touching her lips, so
soft, and perfect.
"Jareth," Sarah whispered, her voice cracking noticeably, suffering from the
overwhelming emotions which rained down upon her.
Jareth turned his majestic eyes downwards, and stared deeply into her lovely face.
A smile lit his lips, one so true that it made Sarah ache with a feeling of surety, of near
love, just to look into his gaze. She returned his contented smile, with one of her own,
and then reached out to stroke her delicate hands through his golden mass of hair.
Without a single movement on Jareth's part, the entire room filled with a
breathtaking golden luminance. It shrouded the two lovers, intertwining between their
bodies, and literally bathing them in the resplendent highlights of magic. Sarah watched
the light in awe, as Jareth's lips ran down her neck. And suddenly, she no longer felt the
silken material of his tight pants, restricting the movement of their flesh, together.
She wrapped her arms around his back, feeling muscles quiver with pent-up
excitement, lust. She rolled her head back, feeling them become one as he raised his hips,
ever so slightly, beginning the most ancient act of love, as sublime pleasures rolled through
the liquid gold overhead, basking in intoxicating magic.
Sarah closed her eyes, and found his lips to meet her own. It felt as if the entire
world had stopped, had become non-existent, so as to offer this time of such divine
intervention to take place.
All had become combined. Their minds delved within each other, as physical
bodies did the same. She could feel his thoughts, his emotions, deep secrets which laid
hidden far beneath that mask he wore, were suddenly surfacing behind her closed eyes.
And a glorious resonance of magical proportions enshrouded her body. She could feel his
power, his essence, the magic that dwelled within him, racing through her as everything
else took place. This only heightened the entire experience.
Her eyes snapped open, as the power engorging her mortal soul became
overwhelming. She clutched at Jareth, his skin standing out in a fine sheen of sweat, and
allowed the energy to burst forth, against him. All around the golden shower continued,
and then faded, faded into nothingness to leave the normal environment of her room, of
Fontridge, of reality.
* * * * * * * *
Sarah laid her head upon his chest, her flushed cheek resting against his ribcage,
and rose with each deep breath he took. His hand ran along her spine, tracing the curve of
her back, only to move upwards again and caress her shoulders. She could have remained
there for life, laying in the arms of the Goblin King, the scent of perspiration, intermingled
with that of shampoo and magic, resting within the single sheet which laid upon their
bodies.
She could nearly imagine Jareth taking her from this place, to his castle, where
they could live together. The image of the fantasy future came to her mind, as exhaustion
set in, claiming her consciousness, and driving the young woman into a contented sleep.
All the while Jareth continued to stroke her bare skin, gazing into her serene face, as she
drowsed upon his chest.
The clock upon the wall chimed midnight, and he could almost hear the tell-tale
sound of the thirteenth hour, ringing in the Underground, while he, once more,
disregarded the laws. His brother had scarcely left when Sarah's cries rose to his ears,
those which he could not ignore.
Now his kingdom was abandoned again, and he dwelled in the company of a
mortal. No one had seen, and so his secret was safe for the time being. Still, the sickening
reality struck him, and Jareth knew deep within, that this could not continue. He could
not sneak about like a criminal, daring to spend few fleeting hours in her company, while
the Underground slept.
He rose carefully, resting a pillow beneath her heavy head. It would not do to be
there when she awakened, or the rest of the manor did, for that matter. All Hell would
break lose, should a strange man be seen in lovely Sarah's bed. Peter, most certainly,
would find it unacceptable.
There was something about the playwright, that did not settle with Jareth. A
mannerism, or perhaps the way the man looked at Sarah. It was odd, but Peter remained
bathed in mystery, despite Jareth's powers, crystals, and spells he dare send upon the man.
It was not a case to be dwelled upon at the hour, however, for now was the time to take
his leave.
Jareth swept himself into his traveling form, and, by way of the suddenly opened
window, dove into the night sky. His white feathers contrasting against the black, as he
soared onwards, back to his kingdom.
All the while, Sarah slept soundly in her bed. She did not dream, but felt the
presence of her newly acquired lover about her during her rest. It was only when she
awakened, early in the grand and lovely morning, that she realized he had gone. It was
not a great surprise, for Jareth could not possibly remain through the duration of the night.
Still a part of her continued to long for him, even while she dressed, and prepared herself
for another day of rehearsals.
