Author's Note: Poor Archer! Such blatant animosity! And no, this is not it. It's not even the end of this series, let alone the fic I have in mind.

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"Jareth, much as I appreciate being visited in the middle of the night," Archer groaned, "Do you not think this is a bit extreme?"

"You're my cousin," Jareth growled, pacing up and down the quietly expensive room, "The least you can do is pretend to care!"

Archer blinked slowly and refocused on the sleep-blurred figure bounding around in front of him. He leaned back into the soft plush of his armchair, languid in his sleepiness and petulantly uncaring of what this might look like. The few sconces lit around the room threw unnatural shadows and glows over the wandering half-goblin, making him seem like a creature of even greater mysticism than he was.

"Archer! Dammit, say something!"

"You sent him away. The Spirit thinks you made a mistake. I do not. What more can I say?"

Mismatched eyes glared at him. "Cold creature, aren't you," he hissed angrily, stopping for a second with his back to a bright spot, face as dark as his words.

Archer tightened his jaw and stood, controlling himself only because he could see how much Jareth was affected. "I am not in the mood," he emphasized, "If you want to be dramatic- leave! There is no place for hysterics in my palace."

Jareth slumped obediently, looking his defiance but knowing well enough that the fairy was right. Besides, he knew that Archer would never hold all this over his head. There were plenty of things that he had done in his long life that he regretted, things that he still could not completely look at without shuddering in horror at his own delusions. But for so long he had maintained his calm, maintained his distance. What had he been thinking of to bond with a mortal boy? What understanding could Toby possibly have of anything to do with him? Though in the light of certain happenings, Jareth found himself with an uncanny ability to sense what was in Toby's mind at any given time and it had, he was forced to admit, fostered certain feelings of concern and even gentleness…

Hands clamped tight on his arms, startling him out of whatever trance he was in. "Don't," a harsh voice said roughly, "Do not think of him! It does you no good."

"He is my bond mate."

"But he is nothing else!" Archer shook this vulnerable version of the Goblin King hard. "Do not delude yourself; this would never have worked and you knew that. He was to be your lover while he lived. How long would that have been? Hmmm? Twenty years? Forty? How long before he bored you and you let him go anyway?"

"I would not have let him go," Jareth whispered, too tired to even pretend any more, "I could not. He has something of mine; he has it even now."

The Goblin King did not see the swift look of pain on Archer's face, or the look of consternation. All he felt were the feather-soft touches of a pair of sympathetic hands, hands that were strangely not as soothing as they had always been. The touches they freely bestowed on each other now seemed... restrained.

"He has your heart?"

"I don't know. But he certainly has my soul."

"You fool!"

Jareth was dropped so abruptly that he stumbled backwards a step, eyes wide at the unexpected violence.

"You stupid fool! What did you do?"

"Do? I did nothing!"

"You must have! The bond cannot suddenly decide to strengthen on its own," Archer growled, arms on his hips as he stared down his nose at his shorter cousin. It was not an intimidation tactic, but rather one born of long habit from someone used to commanding a great deal of respect.

"Don't you understand what this is?" Jareth asked, glaring right back, "Can I not damned-well grieve for my loss?"

That drew silence from both. Archer stared coldly at him, brown eyes no longer so warm as they objectively weighted up the information that he had received. It was all very well to glare at him, but from long experience Archer knew that the only way to coax Jareth was to stroke his fur, not rub it the wrong way. Sighing, he forced himself to drop his anger like a cloak. "I am sorry, Jareth," he said freely, holding out his hand, "Come! What is it that brings you to me tonight?"

Jareth, surprisingly enough, blushed and turned away with a rough cough. "I- I need a favour."

Archer stilled and raised an eyebrow at the straight back. If he was hearing the sentence he thought he was, then this was a dredging up of memories left long in their past! Not since that first night had Jareth ever come to him like this.

"Just a night. Just to take the pain away."

Archer let out the breath he didn't know he'd been holding. His cousin sounded small, lost, and immeasurably unsure of himself. The melodically confident voice was no more than a whisper, and Archer knew what happened when the vulnerability of childhood flecked the adult's voice.

"Jareth, do not throw yourself into depression for this," Archer said gently, wrapping his arms around his cousin and holding him fast, just as he used to do all those centuries ago when Jareth had been a child and he the older cousin who somehow understood. "It is not worth it, my dear."

"I do not throw myself into anything." The words were weak at best.

"Turn," Archer ordered, hard hands forcing his command to be complied with. When that was done, he held him again, resting his cheek against soft hair and swaying gently in comfort. "What is it about him, Jareth? Explain and I might understand."

Jareth sighed and relaxed into the hold. He pushed the stubborn part of himself that hated this weakness into the mental box he kept in his mind and let himself grieve in a way he had thought he never would. "He is sunshine," he began softly, "Even in dark times, he is capable of such light-heartedness. Even in his confusion he sees so very clearly. He fights, Archer. And that is something I can admire."

"Admiration does not equate to love."

"Respect is something that goes a long way. But he is still just a child and I do not know..."

Archer trailed a slender fingertip over Jareth's spine, encouraging him to succumb. He felt the resultant tremble and let a smile twitch the corners of his lips. "He is too young to know," he completed, "Is that what you fear? If you desire him so much that you mean to make it work on all levels, then why have you not told him?

"Because he is too young. I don't want to damage his life. The Gods know I've done enough of that all ready!"

"Stuff! You have been everything that was careful and proper," Archer declared, his fingers finding paths to other areas that verged on not-quite- innocence. Yet he was careful not to push for more than he knew Jareth could give. "If you could not protect him, it was because someone else discounted your powers."

The instant the words left his mouth, he knew the damage had been done. He did not need to see Jareth's face to know his cousin had taken it the wrong way. And to Jareth's mind, how else was he to take it? He had been too blind, too useless to protect the one he was supposed to care for. How could that be explained?

"Ssh! I didn't mean that, Jareth. You know that! I didn't mean it in that sense."

"But you are right."

"No, I'm not. Truly, I'm not."

"Yes... yes, you are. Very well, then. I failed him and so I cannot have him." Jareth looked up with a very determined expression in his cold eyes. "Have you a bed for me, my friend? I will not sleep but I want some space away from the Castle."

Archer shrugged and led him out of the room. The hallways they traversed were well lit but empty. When they finally stopped at a door, Archer opened it and gestured to the half-goblin to enter. He shut the door behind them and listened to the quiet sounds that came from within for a few minutes. The creak of the bedsprings, and the soft footfalls of someone moving quietly in the darkness of the room.

Satisfied, he returned to his room, and picked up an ornate antique hand mirror from the dresser. Jareth was right; respect could certainly go a long way to inspiring love. And the child was certainly hardy if he was proof against his recent torments. Archer whispered quiet words and let his fingers gently touch the cold, smooth surface. Jareth's night would certainly be a long one, and he would give a lot to know what his cousin meant to do now.

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Toby was asleep. Or so he hoped. His room had been exactly the same as before he'd left. His sheets had still smelt the same as he remembered. The furniture had been in exactly the same place it had always stood in. But something was different and he was vaguely aware that it was something to do with him. Of course, it could be that he had never yet slept specifically facing the door so that he could see instantly anyone who attempted to enter. It could be that this was his first night away from the airy, spacious room he was now used to. It could be that it felt awkward for him to look at such familiar things with such a different mind.

Slipping into sleep, he realized that his answers lay tucked in the unusual dreamscape he found in his head.

Staring around at the rich bedroom filled with delicate furniture, he wondered vaguely if he was meant to be here. A moment later he wasn't wondering at any of it, because arms had slid around his waist and pulled him back insistently to rest against a hard body.

Stifling a cry, he craned his head to see who it was. An amused but very gentle smile found his eyes.

"You seem surprised, Toby," this dream Jareth said, "Were you expecting someone else?"

"I... you... what the hell are you doing in my dreams?"

"I've always been here," Jareth whispered, "Always in your dreams."

Soft lips caressed the delicate curve of his ear and Toby let out a squeak, trying to wonder if this was really what he wanted. He wasn't ready yet! He had been taken by surprise and oh God, but he couldn't do this now! He wasn't in the Underground any more and this couldn't be happening to him in the Aboveground. "Let me go," he growled, pushing at the arms around his waist.

Jareth chuckled and only held tighter. "You do not want me to," he murmured, trailing his tongue down a prominent cheekbone.

"I do!"

"Your body says otherwise."

"Cause it's thinking with my dick, not my brain!"

"Ah, so you admit to an attraction?"

"Get off me!"

"No."

Toby slumped backwards with bad grace, his lessons well learnt from his first day in the Underground to know better than to challenge than tone of voice. He would not be released unless Jareth decided it, he knew that much. He could only wish dismally that the Goblin King would feel his discomfort and let him go. But letting go did not seem to be what Jareth had in mind, because he was turned, gently, like he had been the last time he had been held in those arms, and a teasingly chaste kiss placed on his lips. But this time, the half-goblin did not retreat. Instead, he closed in again for a longer kiss, pressing insistent lips over Toby's mouth, demanding that it be returned.

And Toby hesitantly gave him exactly what he wanted.

Time stretched and jerked around them erratically, moving swiftly and then standing still, until Toby could not decide if he had been kissed for hours or years. Certainly this Goblin King could teach him more about kissing in five minutes than Toby had yet learned in his entire life! And the long, slow strokes of that slick tongue in his mouth had him trembling where he stood, so that Jareth's arms tightened to chains around him- anchoring him in place, anchoring him to the ground.

"Follow me."

Meekly, blinking the daze from his eyes, the mortal followed, hand held like a child as he was led to the bed that beckoned for him with an inaudible voice. Before he could blink, time shifted again and he was lying on his back, his t-shirt gone and an obviously aroused male on top of him.

The kisses resumed just as he opened his mouth to protest and his muffled growl of indignation drew a warm laugh from his partner. Hands were roaming over him, touching him in a silken soft way that reminded him all too vividly of the other dream-like night he had once had, when he had touched himself for Jareth and heard that rough voice hiss pleasure in his ear for the sight he made.

Unbidden, he remembered the look in those mismatched eyes he had seen in the mirror and he began to blush, pushing a little at the shoulders he had been clutching like a lifeline.

Jareth stopped instantly and raised his head, looking down enquiringly at him with so much concern in his eyes that Toby shut his own and refused to look any more. Despairingly he hoped that this would end and he could wake up; anything to never see that look in his dreams. For what use were dreams when he couldn't have this reassurance in reality?

"Dreams are sometimes a reality, my elf," Jareth whispered unexpectedly, "There are reasons you will not understand, but in dreams you're mine."

Toby shivered in response, something in his soul surging upwards as if to throw him back into the half-goblin's arms. It was like a magnetic response and before he could think he had eased his legs apart, wrapping them securely around Jareth's waist as he pressed his body to his lover's.

The look of wonder was rapidly changed to one of need. Strong fingers stroked his face with the utmost gentleness. "Stay still." And then Jareth's mouth trickled slowly down his neck to taste and memorize.

Time moved too fast, bounding forward in leaps and strides, and no one place was worshipped enough for Toby's tastes. That talented mouth had aroused him to the point of insanity and still he had yet to feel it touch the place that ached for it the most. He soon learned that he would not just yet.

Jareth undressed them both slowly but kept his eyes fixed unwaveringly on his, watching for a sign to tell him that something was wrong or unacceptable.

Toby felt his lids droop in a languid haze of desire. He had no need to do anything. But unlike the rape, every last touch or lick or kiss was meant to entice. Jareth would no more hurt him than Toby could have prevented him from doing so. He closed his eyes, not wanting to see what would happen in fear of how he might react. He did not want Jareth to stop, would not have survived it if Jareth were to stop... but the rape had occurred and he was still terrified.

Oiled fingers reached beneath to touch. The boy almost jumped three feet in the air before landing back on the bed, wide-eyed and gasping. Jareth ran a soothing hand over his hip.

"It's all right," he heard, "It won't hurt. I promise it won't."

"You promised you would stop when I said. I'm begging you now," Toby returned, the desire turning to ice in his blood and freezing him.

But Jareth only smiled- how had Toby never realized how cold that smile could be- and brutally refused to listen to a word. Toby cried out as a finger breached him, whimpering as a needle point of pain slithered through him. But there was no feeling of tearing; he supposed that the oil was there for that reason.

"Jareth, I said stop!"

"You don't want me to," the Goblin King said. His free hand rose to stroke his lover back into forgetful lust. "Tell me that you truly do not want me to take you. Look at me and say it. Then I will stop."

Toby groaned, writhing as the pressure built up. The finger inside him was joined by another. The pain increased but then something even more miraculous happened- it nudged something deep inside him and the world fell away.

Time swirled and ribboned into streams around their bed, coloured into magical shades of blues and silvers. Differently coloured eyes of blue and brown held his gaze captive, impaling his soul and demanding something from Toby that he didn't know how to give. There had to be a command, a sign even... something! What did Jareth want from him?

The fingers stopped moving.

"What's wrong?" Toby asked, scared that he had done something wrong. Or had Jareth just realized who it was he was touching?

"You must sing for me," Jareth said whimsically, a teasing smile touching the corners of his lips in that typical way of his.

Toby's jaw dropped as he stared back up at his lover. Sing? In the middle of sex? Was his Goblin King mad? He contemplated saying so but decided it would be safer to stay silent. Just his luck, the only lovers he seemed to attract were possessive, sadistic or just plain weird! Maybe it was the hair, he thought dismally. He made a silent pact to cut his hair very short when he woke up.

Jareth saw the incredulous glance from those blue eyes and burst out laughing, leaning forward to nuzzle lightly into the crook of a golden neck. Oh yes, his little golden idol would be such fun to play with!

"Your body, my elf," he explained, still chuckling deep in his throat even as he ran a sensuous hand over Toby's slim chest, "Do not tighten your control so much. You fight me and so you fight your pleasure."

"I- I don't know what..."

"Let go. Don't be afraid of what you want," Jareth urged, sliding his fingers out and back in with a suggestive force, "Let me guide you."

"It will hurt," Toby whimpered, licking his wide mouth because suddenly his lips were so dry and his heart was pounding too fast. Something was in the room though Jareth was oblivious to it.

"Yes," Jareth sighed, "But the pain, my elf, is beautiful too.

The first thrust made him bite back a moan as he felt himself stretched and completed beyond all his previous imaginings. Oh, there was pain and he felt his face contort in reaction as he pressed his face into the pillow. But Jareth's skilled tongue flicked out to the contours of his left shoulder and he relaxed, feeling his lover retreat and then push slowly back in. And then that heavenly spot was nudged again and he surged up against Jareth, arching with a cry as that delicious feeling continued and grew stronger with each thrust.

The room spun around them, and the universe narrowed only to the bed on which their heated bodies lay. But Toby was conscious of looking out to something that he wasn't a part of. He was cut off, he realized with a sinking heart. So deeply did he want to love Jareth and be loved in return but he didn't know how. And his dark shadow had not helped because now he locked himself in without conscious thought the moment something happened that might carry the potential to hurt him.

'... let go.'

Toby felt rather than heard Jareth's own consciousness touch his. He couldn't see Jareth behind him but he wanted that voice to love him, those hands to touch him everywhere that ached and throbbed for Jareth alone and he began timidly to open himself a little. Something hot and flame-tongued wound itself around him and he screamed at the intense pleasure that suddenly pushed through him.

Arms tightened around him as he writhed wantonly on the sheets, golden hair entangled and eyes turning electric as he merged not only with himself in spirit, but with Jareth.

Jareth gasped in his ear as he felt the pull of that overflow of passion. But he slowed for an instant to grasp those slender wrists and pull them tight over Toby's head.

"Submit," he ordered.

Toby's head whipped on the pillow as the tears came. Everything was too intense, too much. "You're killing me," he moaned, "please. Please!"

"Please what?" Jareth urged, "Kill you? Make love to you? What do you need?"

"Make the pain stop," Toby screamed, twisting beneath Jareth's body and surging up to meet each plunge, "Fuck, make it stop!"

"How?" Jareth needled.

"I can't do this! I can't! I can't!"

"You can."

"I'm scared... Jareth! Please!"

Soft lips brushed his mouth even as Jareth took him harder and higher than he had even imagined possible. The pleasure was so enormous that he was too small for it! It was ripping him apart and he sobbed loudly as his emotions went into a spin that threatened to suck him down into a never-ending whirlpool and drown him.

"I'm here," Jareth promised, "I'll always be here."

"It's so dark."

"You'll light the way, my elf. Oh Gods, so beautiful! Everything about you..."

When the final wave of pleasure hit them, Toby collapsed to the bed with a tormented cry of need, clutching tight to the sheets as his mind faded into white heat. Jareth ground down into him and glory of glories, Toby felt teeth sink into his neck, almost biting hard enough to break the skin.

When time began to creep by once more, Toby found that he didn't have the strength to open his eyes. He was still crying, the tears seeping tiredly from beneath closed eyelids. Jareth pulled him closer, helped him turn, a soft tongue licked gently against the stinging bruise on his neck, soothing the hurt skin with a rueful tenderness.

"You bite," the mortal commented thickly.

"I did warn you," came the loving rejoiner.

Then the tongue moved and warm lips kissed away the tears. Toby hiccupped as the laughter bubbled into his throat. "That tickles."

"Hmmm... does it?" He opened his eyes to see Jareth looking down at him, a white hand just beginning to stroke his golden hair, "I should do it more often then," the half-goblin said softly, "It makes you smile."

A blush began to spread over his face, but Toby heard no laughter, no mockery no matter how gentle. There was just that inexplicable smile of longing.

"You are beautiful," the Goblin King whispered, "No matter what happens. You were beautiful in your guise as snow prince, untouched and untouchable. But now... now you are the fallen angel, lost in a world of pain and still capable of so much pleasure."

"Jareth, we had sex; doesn't mean you can go all poetic on me," Toby countered, trying to lighten the mood. There was still something in this room and while there was no hint of actual danger, it was a hostile presence. But hostile to who- him or Jareth? Whose dream had it been any way?

"My dream," Jareth whispered, uncannily reading his mind again, "That's why I know what you're thinking. Relax, there is no one here."

"So you dreamed me into letting you do those things," Toby said slowly, fighting down the urge to be sick.

"No!" It was emphatic enough to ring loudly through the room. "I dreamed you so that I could show you that there was nothing to fear, Toby. You spend so much energy fearing yourself. You were raped but it doesn't have to end your life. Don't let the pain be more painful that it ought to be."

"Oh, really! And what's that supposed to mean," Toby demanded harshly, wriggling out from under his lover.

But Jareth grabbed his wrists and pinned him down to the bed. There was no anger in his eyes, only sorrow and love. "I can't give you reality," he said sadly, "But I can give you this much- don't fear feeling emotions that you are not used to. You asked if I bit; I said yes. You called me sick and perhaps I am. I have unnatural tastes and I admit that. But I know that if you fight the way you feel, you will kill yourself with worse pain than you can ever know. I have seen it. It was not pleasant."

"Who?"

"Too many of my subjects," Jareth sighed, "It is a tragic thing when goblins die of fear; they are a strong people and it takes a lot to kill them. They wouldn't listen to Arienne- my healer- but I did. And I tell you the same thing. Just because you think something comes from the dark side of the moon, does not mean it is evil. If it harms no one else, and causes you pleasure, then it can only be good."

"Like when you forced me," Toby remarked, running a hand over Jareth's back. He felt the skin pull over the ridges of the half-goblin's spine and ribs as he shifted.

"I did not force you," Jareth swore, "I would not have. But I knew your body and your mind were screaming for me, just as I could understand why your consciousness would not let it happen. I had to force you to accept it. But I did not force you to do it."

"I know. Jareth, I... what happens now?"

Hands drew him near and snuggled him closer to a warm body, a long leg sliding over his to lock them closer together again. Soft kisses feathered over his hair and brow. "Sleep," the Goblin King whispered, "The dream is done."

"You won't be there when I wake up." Toby finally realized why Jareth seemed so sad. He felt it himself, piercing his soul to the quick and drawing blood. "I won't actually see you."

"You have your family. I have my Kingdom. And there are always dreams."

The darkness seemed to grow as the room faded away. But the arms held tight, never letting go as Toby drifted off reluctantly into the grey mist that called seductively for him to take his rest. And the light touch of a voice singing a lullaby speeded him on his way.