Phase 5: "T" is for Lonliness
Sarah sat on her damask bed, flipping idly through a Goblin Weekly magazine. Ever since her ravishment, she had locked herself away, unable to look into Jareth's downtrodden multi-hued eyes. The last time she saw him, he sat, alone and befuddled in his throne room, surrounded by broken crystals.
"Codan's more practiced magic had nothing to do with my betrayal Jareth!" she had said, clutching her embroidered silk petticoat adorned with lace floral arrangements.
"Leave me!" Jareth yelled, tossing his crystal so close that it broke into pieces just millimeters away from Sarah's slightly coral velvet slippers.
Sarah had ran, but this time only to her room, where she locked herself away, only allowing her goblin maid access with trays of freshly brewed tea.
You have no power over me
Oh, how wrong she had been all those years ago! How wrong and cruel! He had power over her, as much as her horrible terminal disease did. All he had wanted was to rescue her. But his help was to no avail, for she felt herself growing sicker by the moment. Sarah realized that she understood nothing of this place, especially since it had all turned rather silly and there were a lot more codpieces then on her first adventure through the Labyrinth.
Sarah fell back on her damask bed, turning her soft cheek into the downy softness. She felt cold, so cold she felt somewhat warm and warm until she felt hot and not cold at all. Sarah could feel sweat beading on her glorious forehead and she touched her dry lips.
Sarah fell into a listless sleep. She was in the magical ballroom again, dressed to perfection in a black velvet corset with a long jet-black skirt slit to her upper thighs. Her feet were enclosed in fresh black leather, and she wondered why she was dressed so splendidly, yet so much like a cheap street hooker.
But no matter, the music around her was rising, rising! She felt her body move in a dance, alone and fitful on the floor. She danced gracefully, like an enchanted ballerina, or well-trained stripper.
And there, amongst the preening crowd, watching her with mask adorning his eyes, was Jareth. He slowly parted from the champagne swilling masked entourage, following Sarah's dance with his own, as he sang to her about loving a young maiden as the world fell down, and then something silly about living with her in a giant floating crystal.
You have no power over me
Sarah awoke, flushed, dazed, and a tiny bit horny as well. Why was her inner dialogue constantly repeating the same statement over and over again? She furrowed her brow, as Jareth appeared before her bed, splendidly dressed, his outfit matching his bandaged hand, a casualty from too many hours of crystal balancing.
"Sarah," he whispered. "I must tell you the truth."
"The truth? I think I know your truth!" she replied haughtily. "I'm not cured at all, am I?"
Jareth glanced away, fiddling with his bandage.
"You lied to me! You didn't take me away to rescue me! You took me away so I could die here! Because you are the one who gave me this horrible handicapped disease!"
Jareth's eyes flashed. "How dare you link me to such a plot contrivance!"
"But it's true, isn't it! No matter how implausible it actually is!" she shouted, hoarse.
Jareth strode over to her incapacitated, but still very voluptuous and sexy body. He grabbed her rakishly by the upper forearms, then slammed her back down
upon the velvet (damask? Velvet damask!) bed.
"You fiend!" Sarah cried. "Release me from your masculine grasp! I hate you!" she promised, as her body pressed hungrily against his own.
"I will have my will with you until you know nothing," Jareth growled, pinning Sarah's lips in a ravishing kiss.
She fought him ruthlessly, even pinched him a few times, and then desperately tried to tickle him. But to no avail. Jareth the Goblin King had no tickle spots.
Jareth ripped open the front of Sarah's dress, toppling over her precious tea that rested on the bedside table. He too had read Sarah's illicit diary. Well, maybe just the one with the yellow ribbon. But no matter. Jareth was Fae. He was therefore equipped with sexual prowess and knowledge that rivaled no other, except maybe a drunken fraternity brother who had read the karma sutra one too many times.
But Jareth quickly ceased his ravishment when he met Sarah's pitifully sad eyes. There was something in them that he had never seen in a woman's eyes before: Love, and also a little terminal illness, but love, glorious love!
Jareth trembled, releasing Sarah's silky velour bodice with lace floral designs. Sarah turned her head away from him as she coughed viciously.
"Jareth!" she murmured. "I'm going to die, aren't I. It's all true, isn't it?"
Jareth leaned down, cradling his queen in his arms. "Yes my dear. It's true, all of it. I gave you this sickness at first as revenge. When you told me you had no power over me, it made me so angry, because I loved you so much. I had never loved anyone so, except maybe myself. And then—"
"Shhhh," Sarah whispered, putting her finger to Jareth's lips. "I understand. And I love you for it. Though that also makes no sense whatsoever but—"
"Oh Sarah!" Jareth cried, pressing her to his bosom until her statement became a mumble. "I love you to distraction, to infinity and—farther than that! It feels so good to say the words instead of hiding behind a unflappable manly persona!"
Sarah smiled weakly. "Let us make the most of our time then, dear sweet Fae lover."
Jareth bent to meet Sarah's icy lips. They were so cold. His Love, his precious midnight star, so cold. And on second thought, Jareth's feet were a little cold too. These black leather riding boots just weren't as well insulated as the others and—
"Jareth," Sarah called softly.
"Sarah," Jareth called softly back. "Let me just hold you, cradle you in my strong yet lightly muscled arms."
Sarah looked up at her Goblin King, slightly bewildered. "You just want to—hold me?"
"Yes!" Jareth cried. "Our love is deeper than five minutes of sweating and rutting about like common animals."
Sarah glanced up at him again. "Only five minutes?"
Jareth's unwrinkled brow furrowed. "Well, maybe eight."
"Oh."
"Yes," he replied. "Oh."
They sat in silence, staring at nothing in particular. Jareth shifted his arm a bit, becoming increasingly bored with the deafening silence until he amused himself for a few moments with playing shadow puppet on the wall.
"So…" Jareth said, bored with his game.
"So…" Sarah replied.
"Should we have sex now?" Jareth suggested.
Sarah turned eagerly to her love. They embraced like newfound lovers, like bluebirds who mate for life, like gorillas in the mist.
Jareth removed what was left of Sarah's clothing, slow at first, then faster, then slower again, until she looked at him with a gaze of confusion.
Fully disengaged from her binding clothing, Sarah leapt on top of Jareth's stellar form, straddling him as she began to suck greedily on his neck.
"Don't leave a mark," Jareth whispered sexily. His hands traveled down to clutch Sarah's buxom derriere, pressing her soft womanhood onto his hard man scabbard.
Sarah moaned, careful not to moan the way she had moaned with Codan, who had a completely different moan than his cousin Jareth's. She wondered, did they perhaps have the same shoe size?
She played around with this thought as Jareth played with her magnificent mammories. Sarah kissed Jareth deeply, grabbing his tongue with her delicate lips, and sucking on it deeply until she feared she might have pulled an important tongue muscle.
Jareth tried to hold onto his Fae sanity as Sarah's nails raked down his chest, her fingers played with his nipples like they were a xylophone of love. He could barely control his urge to thrust himself into her like a lustful prairie dog.
Sarah disengaged herself from Jareth's mouth, sexily wiping away his Fae spittle. She was ready to unzip his pants, but then realized that only Velcro was keeping her from knowing Jareth in the deepest of ways.
Sarah's eyes widened as she released his beautiful bull from its golden cage. She yelped in excitement as he took hold of her naughty frame, pulling her down unto the bed, at the same time entering her completely and fully and magnificently and—oh yes!
Sarah arched her back, pressing herself against Jareth's supple body. They moved together, in synch, like U.S. synchronized swimmers who were beating the evil Russians for the gold medal.
They slipped and slided on the slip and slide of passion. Jareth began to hum like a steaming train, or a furnace about to implode.
"Sarah!" He cried, nearing the end of his 7.89 mile run.
"Co—I mean—Cold Fusion! Yes Jareth, it is Cold Fusion when our bodies meet and are one!" She cried back, released and spent in her Fae man's arms.
Jareth followed, crushing her with his magnificent, yet beautifully delicate weight.
They looked deep into each other's eyes.
Then passed out.
Sarah sat on her damask bed, flipping idly through a Goblin Weekly magazine. Ever since her ravishment, she had locked herself away, unable to look into Jareth's downtrodden multi-hued eyes. The last time she saw him, he sat, alone and befuddled in his throne room, surrounded by broken crystals.
"Codan's more practiced magic had nothing to do with my betrayal Jareth!" she had said, clutching her embroidered silk petticoat adorned with lace floral arrangements.
"Leave me!" Jareth yelled, tossing his crystal so close that it broke into pieces just millimeters away from Sarah's slightly coral velvet slippers.
Sarah had ran, but this time only to her room, where she locked herself away, only allowing her goblin maid access with trays of freshly brewed tea.
You have no power over me
Oh, how wrong she had been all those years ago! How wrong and cruel! He had power over her, as much as her horrible terminal disease did. All he had wanted was to rescue her. But his help was to no avail, for she felt herself growing sicker by the moment. Sarah realized that she understood nothing of this place, especially since it had all turned rather silly and there were a lot more codpieces then on her first adventure through the Labyrinth.
Sarah fell back on her damask bed, turning her soft cheek into the downy softness. She felt cold, so cold she felt somewhat warm and warm until she felt hot and not cold at all. Sarah could feel sweat beading on her glorious forehead and she touched her dry lips.
Sarah fell into a listless sleep. She was in the magical ballroom again, dressed to perfection in a black velvet corset with a long jet-black skirt slit to her upper thighs. Her feet were enclosed in fresh black leather, and she wondered why she was dressed so splendidly, yet so much like a cheap street hooker.
But no matter, the music around her was rising, rising! She felt her body move in a dance, alone and fitful on the floor. She danced gracefully, like an enchanted ballerina, or well-trained stripper.
And there, amongst the preening crowd, watching her with mask adorning his eyes, was Jareth. He slowly parted from the champagne swilling masked entourage, following Sarah's dance with his own, as he sang to her about loving a young maiden as the world fell down, and then something silly about living with her in a giant floating crystal.
You have no power over me
Sarah awoke, flushed, dazed, and a tiny bit horny as well. Why was her inner dialogue constantly repeating the same statement over and over again? She furrowed her brow, as Jareth appeared before her bed, splendidly dressed, his outfit matching his bandaged hand, a casualty from too many hours of crystal balancing.
"Sarah," he whispered. "I must tell you the truth."
"The truth? I think I know your truth!" she replied haughtily. "I'm not cured at all, am I?"
Jareth glanced away, fiddling with his bandage.
"You lied to me! You didn't take me away to rescue me! You took me away so I could die here! Because you are the one who gave me this horrible handicapped disease!"
Jareth's eyes flashed. "How dare you link me to such a plot contrivance!"
"But it's true, isn't it! No matter how implausible it actually is!" she shouted, hoarse.
Jareth strode over to her incapacitated, but still very voluptuous and sexy body. He grabbed her rakishly by the upper forearms, then slammed her back down
upon the velvet (damask? Velvet damask!) bed.
"You fiend!" Sarah cried. "Release me from your masculine grasp! I hate you!" she promised, as her body pressed hungrily against his own.
"I will have my will with you until you know nothing," Jareth growled, pinning Sarah's lips in a ravishing kiss.
She fought him ruthlessly, even pinched him a few times, and then desperately tried to tickle him. But to no avail. Jareth the Goblin King had no tickle spots.
Jareth ripped open the front of Sarah's dress, toppling over her precious tea that rested on the bedside table. He too had read Sarah's illicit diary. Well, maybe just the one with the yellow ribbon. But no matter. Jareth was Fae. He was therefore equipped with sexual prowess and knowledge that rivaled no other, except maybe a drunken fraternity brother who had read the karma sutra one too many times.
But Jareth quickly ceased his ravishment when he met Sarah's pitifully sad eyes. There was something in them that he had never seen in a woman's eyes before: Love, and also a little terminal illness, but love, glorious love!
Jareth trembled, releasing Sarah's silky velour bodice with lace floral designs. Sarah turned her head away from him as she coughed viciously.
"Jareth!" she murmured. "I'm going to die, aren't I. It's all true, isn't it?"
Jareth leaned down, cradling his queen in his arms. "Yes my dear. It's true, all of it. I gave you this sickness at first as revenge. When you told me you had no power over me, it made me so angry, because I loved you so much. I had never loved anyone so, except maybe myself. And then—"
"Shhhh," Sarah whispered, putting her finger to Jareth's lips. "I understand. And I love you for it. Though that also makes no sense whatsoever but—"
"Oh Sarah!" Jareth cried, pressing her to his bosom until her statement became a mumble. "I love you to distraction, to infinity and—farther than that! It feels so good to say the words instead of hiding behind a unflappable manly persona!"
Sarah smiled weakly. "Let us make the most of our time then, dear sweet Fae lover."
Jareth bent to meet Sarah's icy lips. They were so cold. His Love, his precious midnight star, so cold. And on second thought, Jareth's feet were a little cold too. These black leather riding boots just weren't as well insulated as the others and—
"Jareth," Sarah called softly.
"Sarah," Jareth called softly back. "Let me just hold you, cradle you in my strong yet lightly muscled arms."
Sarah looked up at her Goblin King, slightly bewildered. "You just want to—hold me?"
"Yes!" Jareth cried. "Our love is deeper than five minutes of sweating and rutting about like common animals."
Sarah glanced up at him again. "Only five minutes?"
Jareth's unwrinkled brow furrowed. "Well, maybe eight."
"Oh."
"Yes," he replied. "Oh."
They sat in silence, staring at nothing in particular. Jareth shifted his arm a bit, becoming increasingly bored with the deafening silence until he amused himself for a few moments with playing shadow puppet on the wall.
"So…" Jareth said, bored with his game.
"So…" Sarah replied.
"Should we have sex now?" Jareth suggested.
Sarah turned eagerly to her love. They embraced like newfound lovers, like bluebirds who mate for life, like gorillas in the mist.
Jareth removed what was left of Sarah's clothing, slow at first, then faster, then slower again, until she looked at him with a gaze of confusion.
Fully disengaged from her binding clothing, Sarah leapt on top of Jareth's stellar form, straddling him as she began to suck greedily on his neck.
"Don't leave a mark," Jareth whispered sexily. His hands traveled down to clutch Sarah's buxom derriere, pressing her soft womanhood onto his hard man scabbard.
Sarah moaned, careful not to moan the way she had moaned with Codan, who had a completely different moan than his cousin Jareth's. She wondered, did they perhaps have the same shoe size?
She played around with this thought as Jareth played with her magnificent mammories. Sarah kissed Jareth deeply, grabbing his tongue with her delicate lips, and sucking on it deeply until she feared she might have pulled an important tongue muscle.
Jareth tried to hold onto his Fae sanity as Sarah's nails raked down his chest, her fingers played with his nipples like they were a xylophone of love. He could barely control his urge to thrust himself into her like a lustful prairie dog.
Sarah disengaged herself from Jareth's mouth, sexily wiping away his Fae spittle. She was ready to unzip his pants, but then realized that only Velcro was keeping her from knowing Jareth in the deepest of ways.
Sarah's eyes widened as she released his beautiful bull from its golden cage. She yelped in excitement as he took hold of her naughty frame, pulling her down unto the bed, at the same time entering her completely and fully and magnificently and—oh yes!
Sarah arched her back, pressing herself against Jareth's supple body. They moved together, in synch, like U.S. synchronized swimmers who were beating the evil Russians for the gold medal.
They slipped and slided on the slip and slide of passion. Jareth began to hum like a steaming train, or a furnace about to implode.
"Sarah!" He cried, nearing the end of his 7.89 mile run.
"Co—I mean—Cold Fusion! Yes Jareth, it is Cold Fusion when our bodies meet and are one!" She cried back, released and spent in her Fae man's arms.
Jareth followed, crushing her with his magnificent, yet beautifully delicate weight.
They looked deep into each other's eyes.
Then passed out.