Chapter 7: Between A Rock And A Hard Place

For the fourth time that day the hard stone floor meets Sarah's backside, and she yelps as a bolt of pain shoots straight up her back from her coccyx.

The harsh clang of the grating slamming down reverberates deafeningly in her skull.

The silence is broken by a faint scuffle above her.

"Picked the wrong door, huh?"

Oh for God's sake!

Sarah bristles, teeth clenched and eyes glowering as she turns and meets Grüempy's watery gaze, looking down at her from a deep crack in the oubliette's ceiling.

"M'no expert on solvin' Lab'rinths but it seems like yer makin' it much harder for yerself."

"Am I, really?" Sarah growls sarcastically, hoping the underlying anger in her voice will frighten him off. Grüempy, however, seems impervious to her menacing tone. His weepy eyes take in the rips and tears in her clothes, her mussed hair, and her now missing jacket.

"If yer wan' my advice, I would'en get on 'is bad side."

Sarah looks around the oubliette pointedly. "I think that ship has sailed."

A dry raspy sound escapes Grüempy, rather like a chicken in pain, that Sarah only dimly recognises as laughter.

"This aint 'is bad side. You still got yer head."

"How comforting." Sarah gets to her feet gingerly, rubbing her ass, feeling a chorus of aches and bruises harmonise across her tender muscles. "Do you know the way out of here?"

"Yeeeeah?" Says Grüempy, cautiously.

"Can you show me? The quickest way. Not the hardest."

"There's only one way." Grüempy shrinks back further into the crevice, his weathered face dipping into the shadows until he's barely more than a couple of glinting wet eyes.

"Fine. Where?"

"Who."

"What?!"

Grüempy rolls his eyes. "S'not a where, itser who."

Sarah feels like she's about to scream. She takes a deep breath in and counts to ten. Very, very slowly.

"What do you mean, Grumpy?"

Grüempy casts her a withering look but doesn't bother to correct her. "The only way out is him. The him. The him, him."

"The Goblin King?"

"Yeah, the him." He smacks his weathered, wrinkly lips as if mulling over a particularly difficult crossword puzzle. "You could try 'pologizing."

Sarah fumes, the temper she'd reigned back flaring up like a volcano.

"I'm NOT APOLOGISING! APOLOGISE FOR WHAT?! I haven't done anything wrong! There's another way!"

"There ain't." Grüempy sniffs.

"No but... Hoggle had a door, there's got to be a door!"

"Oh yeah sure an' who yer think gave him the door?" Sarah's jaw falls open at the implication that if not for Jareth's, she clenches her teeth at the word, generosity,she could be little more than a pile of bones and dust in another lonely oubliette.

She's about to plead with him further when something startles him. His eyes dart to the back of the cave, his whole body suddenly twanging with tension.

She looks behind her. There's nothing but gloomy shadows and rubble, but Grüempy is positively vibrating.

"Well! Can't stand about gossipin'! Besta luck!"

"No WAIT!"

"Bye fer now!" His eyes vanish as he scurries deeper into the crevice and disappears.

Grüempy's departure makes the oubliette infinitely more menacing. The walls seem to watch her, and the darkness within presses closer still. The air smells rank and sour, like dirt and sweat left to rot in a hole for an eternity. The sound of her own breathing becomes oppressive in the stillness.

Don't get spooked. She wills herself, pleading with her heart rate not to climb any higher than it already has. Easy peasy. Just got to find that weird door. If Hoggle can do it...

She scans the debris littering the minuscule room. A heap of pots and pans are brushed up against a corner. Some are thick with mould and remains of goblin cuisine, only dimly visible as precious little light filters down from above.

She starts digging through them, frantically looking for something, anything, that could help. Hurling each one into another corner with a frantic clang, until she scrapes the bottom. Oubliette dirt cakes her nails, but no door. Only a small raggedy pile of fur which turns out to be the remains of a long dead rat, and Sarah bites down a screech of horror.

The last oubliette she was in is quickly becoming a 4-star hotel by comparison.

She runs her hands over every wall, scuffs every inch of the floor with her boot. Pushes on the low hanging ceiling with everything she has. Nothing. No way out, and the only way in is the grate in the too low ceiling. The ceiling, that in true Alice In Wonderland nonsense, seems to have shrunk since she was dropped unceremoniously through it.

It's hot and dank despite the chilly feel of the stone surrounding her and Sarah feels beads of sweat start to prickle the back of her neck.

Each time she moves her eyes she feels like the walls close in by a quarter inch. There's less and less air. The slimy odour deepens, slipping into her lungs insidiously.

I'm breathing in mould. And dust. And dead rat. God I think I'm going to hurl.

I am, I'm going to hurl...

Need air...

Panic starts to set in as she slumps to the floor hard. Head between her legs as she tries to breathe deeply, but the floor seems to be rising imperceptibly towards the ceiling on each in-breath.

I'm going to be crushed. He's going to let me rot in here if the walls don't kill me first.

He's not content with watching me for hours until I crack, he wants me to cave now...

The thought of the cleaners pops into her head, a vicious intrusive thought of the last time he'd toyed with her life. Would he really have let her be sliced to pieces?

Would he really let her be crushed to death? Or suffocate?

God. Oh god oh god... ok fine you son of a bitch.

She sighs hard, staying her stomach by sheer will.

"Show yourself, Jareth. I can feel you watching, you pervert."

He steps out of the shadows across from her. In an instant she knows he had been leaning against that rock face the entire time, hidden by his glamour and the shadowy gloom.

A wicked thought springs into her head.

I ran my hand over that entire wall… The thought scorches her cheeks.

He's still shirtless, with nothing more than her black leather jacket draped over his shoulders as if it had been tailored for him to the inch. His goblin medallion flashes showily against the sculpted expanse of his chest. His gloves are back in place. Sarah keeps her gaze carefully trained on his face, refusing to let her eyes wander further than they already have. She senses he can read her like an open book and resolves not to give him anything more than cool condescension. If only her body would agree. The palms of her hands tingle at the thought of his skin underneath her fingertips, touching unknowingly as his glamour cloaked him from her senses.

She shifts uncomfortably as he returns her gaze with an appraising one of his own, a knowing smirk suffusing his features as he strides casually towards her.

"Took you longer than I thought." He crouches down in front of her, skating his riding crop up the curve of her hourglass before she bats it away. A smile creeps across his lips. "How sweet of you to call for me. Am I finally to play the knight in shining armour for you?" A fleeting glint of hope passes over his haute features for a fraction of a second.

Sarah grits her teeth, her eyes livid in the face of his unwavering smirk. Despite the desperation of only moments ago she can't bring herself to demand he release her. A concession to his power she's still unwilling to make.

"I want my jacket back."

He twirls the crop like a baton and bounces the handle off her scalp chidingly, as if she was no more than a precocious child making a nuisance of herself.

"It's my jacket by forfeit, precious, and you're lucky that's all I took. I could have been significantly less honourable." His eyes flicker over her chest and down her legs. "Maybe next time. I'm confident you won't be able to keep your manners for long." His eyes fix her in place against the wall. "Gentleman that I am, however, I so hate to deny you anything, my love. Tell me, what else would you have me remove?"

Sarah scowls, but she can feel the flush of her cheeks spreading further down.

He rises fluidly, standing between her legs so she can only stand with his assistance. He offers a gloved hand, and Sarah slaps it away, choosing to remain seated in the dirt rather than allow him the opportunity to be chivalrous.

"You're no gentleman, and it was a birthday gift."

"From your sycophantic boy toy." He sneers.

Sarah's eyebrows raise faintly in surprise at his tone.

"...Jealous?"

"Deeply. A condition you so graciously bestowed upon me."

"What is that supposed to mean?"

"Oh, please, Sarah I'm in no mood for your performance of playing the innocent, it's an exhausting charade."

"I'm not playing innocent." The look on his face quells her a little, just enough for the anger mounting her emotions to stammer. Despite his arrogance there's a tiny drop of pleading in his eyes. She looks away, unable to stand it. "And you've nothing to be jealous of anyway." She mumbles, not truly intending him to hear. Certainly not intending to soothe whatever microscopic sliver of hurt she's spotted lurking behind his bravado. Definitely not.

"Don't I?" He bites out, seemingly stealing her anger out of the air for himself. "You let him escort you home New Years Eve last, let him hold your hand twice, and kissed him no less than four times. The latest of which was only six hours ago. Another poor soul you're stringing along for your own amusement, sweetheart? How sadistic." His crop catches her under the chin, raising her head to a steeper angle so their eyes lock. "Is one devoted slave truly not enough for your appetites?" His words are searing, barely contained pain somewhere behind the anger.

Sarah blanches. She knew he'd been watching, but nowhere near that closely. She grips the crop and pulls down hard, and is surprised when he lets her yank it from his grip.

"In my world that's called stalking, Jareth."

"In mine too, dearest, but I don't share."

"I'm not yours-" the crop in her hand suddenly moves and to her horror she realises she's gripping a long striped snake. She yelps, hurling it away from her. As it lands the bands of the snake's skin morph into thin goblin legs. The snake's head turns into a goblin smile. It shakes itself off with the riding crop now in its teeth and trots it back to Jareth like an obedient mongrel, chuckling a broken goblin chuckle.

Jareth crouches down and takes it, graciously, bestowing a scratch behind the ear for the little goblin that scurries away into the gloom.

He stays balanced on the balls of his feet in front of her, caging her in with his presence. Sarah feels the skin on her neck prickle at the thought that he might leap forward and bite. The feeling makes her shudder, but not altogether in fear. A small bud of anticipation unfurls in her gut, and she squashes the feeling down.

"Let me out, Jareth."

He smirks, raising an eyebrow.

"I think you could ask far nicer than that if you tried hard, darling."

"I thought you had to do what I said? Isn't that the rule?" She growls.

He shrugs unconcernedly. "Consider this a penalty for bad behaviour. I don't have to do anything." A benevolent smile suffuses his features and Sarah thinks she much prefers his wolfish leering. "If you're asking for a favour, I'll have one in return. I'm not adverse to having you owe me, by any means."

"It's not a favour! This is a cheating ruse to waste my time!"

"Stay here then, until your time runs out. I can afford to be patient. Toby may not thank you for it however-"

The slap echoes round the walls and it seems the rocks themselves hold their breath.

His gloved hand tightens on his crop and Sarah's confidence that he won't really hurt her stumbles for the first time, until his fingers relax once more. His jaw clenches as he lets go an angry sigh.

"Are you so cruel to everyone in your life? Or just the ones you've enslaved?"

"I didn'tenslave you. Of the two of us I'm really more the one who's been enslaved." She gestures dramatically around the oubliette. He takes stock of her then. In his face she reads confusion, that blooms into understanding, and finally pity. Or as close to pity as his naturally condescending expression can handle.

"...Ah. You weren't being coy earlier. You truly don't understand."

"Understand WHAT?!"

He doesn't answer, only smiles coldly and changes the subject. "What are you offering me in exchange for an exit? Make it worth my while, lovely Sarah." He sits back on the floor in front of her. The angle of his posture brings his taut stomach into sharp relief, highlighted by the pale light from the ceiling grate.

Sarah swallows.

"I'm not bargaining with you."

"Can you really afford not to? Of course, I'm more than happy to while away the time-" with a flick of his wrist an antique brass clock materialises above them- "well, well, only seven hours and fourteen minutes. No time at all, if the company is entertaining enough."

She bites her tongue.

"I'll trade you an hour for an exit."

The sound of the ticking clock is sickening. Like a dwindling heartbeat of a dying creature.

His eyes haven't left hers, his face carefully arranged into a look of bored nonchalance, but a smouldering glint dispels the colour from his eyes. An immaculately flared eyebrow rises.

"And what would we do in that hour?"

Sarah scoffs, but the walls still feel far too close and in this moment she'd agree to anything to get out of this hole.

"What is it you want?"

He lets go an obscene purr that burns like boiling oil straight to the core of her. He grins wickedly. A sight that suddenly has her remembering what he could really do with that mouth.

"Would a kiss be too high a price?"

"Far too high."

His eyes flash, owlish and huge, and Sarah can see his pupils have blown wide into deep limpid pools of black.

"What a pity then that you're in no position to haggle. Unless you'd rather I take you back to the beginning again, as I'm well within my rights to. It took you nearly six hours to get here, my love. You'd be cutting it rather close."

Sarah's blood boils. He thought so little of her struggles thus far and would happily deposit her back at the start without a care, manipulating her, and distracting her endlessly. Toying with her like a cat with a mouse.

"I could do it!" She spits.

"I could make sure you didn't." He replied lazily, as if it didn't matter at all.

"You're a cheat." The chill of the air and the rock at her back has made her skin clammy, a shivery cold starting to leach into her marrow. The only warmth reaching her is seeping from him.

Don't lean in. Don't give him anything…

"And you're so stubborn it'll be your undoing. I wouldn't need to interfere to stop you, you'd never make it in time-"

"TRY ME! TAKE ME THEN, JARETH!"

His eyes sparkle, a tongue running across sharp teeth, the simmering threat evaporating briefly into a dreadful lust filled expression that turns her spine to molten lava.

"My name in your mouth is a command, Sarah. You really must choose your words more carefully. I certainly could take you here and now if that is truly what you want me to do."

Her fury falters with embarrassment at his implication. Her cheeks flare crimson. The look on his face is predatory and possessive. Wild, as he rakes his eyes down her. His hungry expression is so sinful that she swallows from the intensity.

"That's not what I meant, and you know it!"

He sighs disappointedly. "I'm fully aware of your meaning. I am not as much of a monster as you believe me to be." He drags his gaze back up over her body to her eyes, his expression hardening to a flint like scowl. "As you continue to wish me to be. Next time however I'll take your meaning literally. Guard your tongue, darling, or I'll make use of it." His face relaxes into a look of casual indifference, head cocked to one side. "Speaking of which..."

Sarah's skin erupts in goosebumps. The rock wall at her back seems to grow colder still, more impenetrable, reminding her that the only way out is with his blessing.

She knows, as hard as it is to admit it, he's right. She'll never make it through the Labyrinth in only- her eyes dart to the clock- seven hours and eleven minutes.

She meets his gaze, prickles at the innocent smile that adorns his face.

She bites her lip, weighing a kiss against Toby's future. Surely a small price, in comparison?

And he didn't specify where. Maybe she could get away with a quick peck on the cheek. A minimal nothingness that you'd bestow on an elderly relative.

"Fine. One kiss."

His eyes widen in anticipation. He rolls up onto his knees between her feet, takes her hand in his to pull her closer.

Sarah moves fast, intending to land a chaste kiss on his cheek and win her exit in a technicality, but he moves faster, balling a fist in her hair and staying her head inches from his own.

"Ruthless as always, dearest, but I'm afraid I have a specific kiss in mind."

She bites the inside of her cheek to still a whimper as his fist winds her hair round his fingers tighter.

God, what is wrong with me…

"What kiss?"

His teeth skate over the tendons in her neck and despite the heat of him pressing against her she shivers. A spasm of heat flushes her thighs where they're pressed against his hips.

"Last Valentine's Day." He whispers against her skin. "Give me the kiss you gave David. It was meant for me anyway."

Heat floods Sarah's face. Embarrassment squirms in her gut at the thought that he'd watched. That he wasn't just lurking in her dreams, but in her reality too.

It had been a minor fiasco. A double date that she hadn't really realised was a double date until far too late. They sat opposite Jen and her then boyfriend Mark, as David acted like a perfect gentleman.

She'd tried. God knows she'd really, really tried to find a spark with David. On paper he was perfect. Good looking, sweet, thoughtful...

...but that's not what I want. That's never been what I want...

After a thoroughly awkward evening of trying to subvert Jen's winks and nudges, and desperately begging her heart to please feel some sort of flutter, just once, for someone nice and normal. She'd kissed David on the walk home.

It had been a good kiss. A great kiss. In no small part because she'd pushed the passion into it so hard in an attempt to jumpstart some feelings. It hadn't worked, but she'd enjoyed the kiss anyway. David had played his part well. Pulling her closer on her queues, hands cupping her jaw just right, fingers slipping into her hair, trailing down her neck, around her waist to her back, stroking her spine to arch her up into him further. As rehearsed as it had all felt to Sarah, she had to admit he knew what to do with his hands.

She'd thought about that kiss. More than once, in fact. But it wasn't David she was picturing. And now, pressed against her, pushing her up against the wall, was the face she'd subconsciously been using as a replacement in her daydreams.

And he knew it. The thought prickles her skin into hypersensitivity.

"I don't appreciate being watched."

A gloved hand skates up the curve of her waist and her breath stalls, gasping slightly.

"I don't appreciate being cast aside." There's a surprising tenderness to his voice as his hand skims round to her back, stroking softly, distracting her from her anger.

It's a daydream. Just another fantasy that's got wildly out of hand. Pretend that's all it is...

But if she gives him this he won't stop at a kiss. He'll make a game out of making her fall into his arms whilst her precious remaining hours flitters away. And she's already perilously close to giving in…

The hand at her back is drawing small torturous circles over her spine, catching nerve endings under her skin even through her shirt.

Can't get caught up in this. Can't afford to…

"Put your hands on the wall, Jareth."

He glares, but is bound by her words, and so releases her hair from his left hand and her waist from his right, pressing them flat either side of her.

Somehow that does little to alleviate the tension of the moment.

Once when she was fifteen she'd pierced her own ear with a needle from Karen's sewing box. She'd sat in front of her mirror for nearly an hour with the needle in her hand, just getting used to the idea of a little bit of pain. Adjusting to the threat of something sharp in her hand. In control but about to throw herself over the brink of uncertainty. Heart ticking hard but head clear with intent. This feels like that moment.

He doesn't move, just watches her, and it's clear he wants her to lead.

It had started with just a small soft kiss at the corner of David's smile. A slight gentle caress. Neither of them really intending on making it more than it was. She mimics the memory, a sweet kiss off centre that unlocks his lips.

There's no trace of condescension on his face, the trademark smirk replaced with a look of reverence. Hooded eyes betraying his own curiosity.

The next kiss is deeper, her lips locked over his, but still held in check by caution. Her tongue skates over sharp teeth as his lips part for her, tongue meeting hers, playing at being timid to goad her deeper. Her hands find their way to his waist, just above the edge of her jacket, pulling him in hesitantly. He moves in obligingly until she's pressed against the rock, his hands still flat on the wall, arms crooked over her head so he can lean in closer.

With a slight rippling movement his shoulder blades shrug up, hiking the jacket up enough so her hands spill off the leather onto the bare skin of his back just as he deepens the kiss further.

The feeling of his skin under her hands sends a shockwave of pleasure up her arms, making her head swim as the magic ripples up tendons, making her fingers dance over the muscles in his back.

God, that's not real is it? Nothing can feel like that, this is just insanity…

Something carnal and possessive snaps inside her and she digs hard fingers into him, feverish and demanding, swallowing a moan as it escapes his lips pressed against hers.

Teeth clash as she pulls him in harder, and his own reserve shatters. Tongue fighting with hers for dominance as he steals the breath out of her lungs with the crush of his chest against her.

"Sarah..." he moans around her lips, breaking from them to trail kisses over her jaw towards the sensitive skin of her neck.

Pulling out of the kiss is like a bucket of cold water dumped over her, embarrassment flaring viciously at the wet feeling pooling between her legs as he pushes in against her harder.

Out, I've got to get out of this! Before he realises. Got to stop!

"Enough. We're done." Sarah says, trying to regain her composure even as his teeth worry her skin, mauling her towards another whimper. Her hands reach up to his chest as she tries to push him back but he's immovable. A second thrill of touching him so intimately shudders through her.

"Not yet. I said I wanted that kiss. I want all of it. Everything you gave him." His tongue flicks over the shell of her ear, finding her lobe that he bites fiercely. "Need to touch you, if you want this ended."

"Jareth-" she tries to shake her head "No" but his mouth covers hers again, pushing her lips wider until she feels like she's drowning in his kiss.

"You have my word I won't deviate from the script, my love."

She casts an eye towards the clock, dangling obnoxiously over them both. Only six hours forty-seven minutes. No time to play it safe.

No going back now…

"Fine. Take your hands off the wall, Jareth."

He doesn't wait to gloat, but sinks his hands deep into the thick locks of her hair, cradling her head as their kiss reignites, tongues twining together.

The motions are nearly identical to David's, stroking firm fingers slipping down, finding purchase on her back. However, this kiss is full to bursting with the burn she'd tried to create from nothing before. Hot and aching and mean, no room for manners, or for regrets, as he pushes himself down into her harder.

It hurts, the way his teeth catch her lip, the way his fingers dig in harder leaving bruises underneath her clothes. Despite how much she wishes it didn't, the heat of him against her chest is filling her with a desperate need. She moans and he swallows her desire, answering her with a growl of his own.

The growl triggers something within her she didn't know was there. She finds herself straining to press into him further than she had ever wanted to with David. One of her hands wandering up to the nape of his neck, fingers toying with his incredibly soft hair and pulling him into her further not caring that they seem to be slipping down the wall. The other hand still on his back claws at him. She digs her fingers into the skin at his back harder and he gasps into her mouth. The sound is much softer than she would have expected from him. Almost submissive, vulnerable.

Too taken by the moment to stop herself she pulls the jacket off his shoulders where it pools at his elbows. Bare, wiry muscles flex as her fingernails scrape down him, claiming him equally.

Her head thumps dully on the floor as they lose their grip on the wall completely, tangled around each other. Jareth's arms keep her pinned to him as he moves against her, grinding against her centre, and she keens fitfully, her resolve crumbling under the feel of him.

He ends it abruptly, seemingly with a cruel indifference, his mouth no longer dancing over hers, as he rises, hiking the jacket back over his shoulders gracefully.

Sarah lets him pull her up, getting her feet underneath herself, rather clumsily due in no small part to the fact her legs have turned to rubber. He steadies her with a hand under her arm.

Her heart is beating hard in her ears, a heavy ticking that reminds her of the clock. She casts an eye to it and freezes.

Only five hours twenty-eight minutes left.

"You took the hour!" She screeches, fists balling.

The smirk is back in place as he tucks a long lock of hair behind her shoulder.

"How uncharacteristically charming of you to imply time has flown in my company." He turns her gently. The wall she'd had her back against is now a cavernous hole of inky blackness. The dark is suddenly illuminated as sconces lit with candles flare into life, highlighting wet glittering walls and sandy floors. "Your exit."

He lays a kiss on her hand before she can twist away from him. She spins intending to berate him further.

But he's already gone.