Author's Note: Thankyou for the reviews! This started off as a one-shot piece (never fear! This story will proceed at least as far as where all your dirty minds want it to be) but I'm thinking I might make a bit longer. This chapter has a bit more on my thoughts of magic, and if people like it I may work it out a bit further.

Disclaimer: I own the labyrinth and I sell all my stories and make stacks of money from it.

Disclaimer to Above Disclaimer: I am lying.

Now read on!

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"Go away. How did you get here? Go away." It came out as babble and she squeezed her eyes shut with a sudden need to control herself.

"I didn't call you. You have no right." Her voice was not so much cold as unnaturally calm.

She gingerly opened her eyes again and realised that Jareth had conjured some kind of fae light, enough to see by – her cheeks burned with that thought – but no more than a computer screen in a dark room.

"Generally I like to see the people I'm talking to pet… although there are so many things to do in the dark… and I see you know at least one of them." At Sarah's intake of breath he paused. "To answer your question – and I know you're not much into math – but it's a very simple formula of focus, intent and completion."

Sarah had a whole new heat flooding her body now. It was adrenalin, taken straight from the test-tube marked frustration. They may have danced once twirling, spinning in his arms but she was completely clear on the reason that she had broken away to smash the mirrors of fantasy. He always presumed. Presumed when he knew nothing about her, about who she really was. "How can you presume to know that I don't like math?" She snapped.

He replied by inclining his head gracefully. Someone who didn't know his manipulative nature might consider that a motion of apology, of concession. But somehow he managed to make it a gesture that drew attention to the fantasy art on her walls, to her books on plays and literature. Ok, so perhaps she hadn't chosen that battle particularly well. She took the pause to subtly readjust her nightgown under the blankets. Jareth's head was still down, but Sarah had an annoying feeling that he knew exactly what she was doing.

"Focus and intent? What does that have to do with anything?"

"Completion." The satisfied way he said it made Sarah want to bite her lower lip, but she covered it with a sigh of exasperation. "Think of it this way Sarah," he held out an hand in a familiar gesture as a clear orb materialized, "I intended for a crystal to appear, my focus was strong, and..." he flicked the crystal up to the tip of one finger and allowed it to balance in defiance of gravity, "we have completion."

"Last time I checked I wasn't able to make flashy little baubles appear whenever I pleased." Here Sarah allowed a tinge of Jareth's accent to infect her own. "Though if you had the intent to come here and invade my privacy – in a very unregal way I might add – then you certainly have your completion." Sarah arched an eyebrow in impersonation.

Jareth's forehead began to twitch upwards, but he stopped himself with an almost obvious effort. Priceless.

"I was simply trying to illustrate a point Sarah. Of course you could never create a crystal. Almost no mortal could – even if they knew enough to form intention, focus is always so lacking in your breed." At this he shifted his gaze back to the orb on his finger. "But we weren't talking about you and the power of the spheres. We were talking about what could possibly drive a mortal with an entirely," his mouth twisted around the word like he wanted to taste as little of it as possible, "human sense of concentration to have such focus and intent to call me to your presence. The want – no the need for me must have been very strong." Jareth sighed. "And before you so tiresomely start your incessant protesting, we are both aware that there are rules. I could not be here without your express invitation."

"In that case, thankyou for the visit then Your Majesty." Easy now... "I assure you that you needn't reply to any invitation in the future." Sarah winced on the inside. If her invite came from where she thought it did, she was as good as saying… "that is, you shan't be hearing from me again." There. Case closed.

"It's not as simple as that Sarah." He swivelled his torso to face her directly. "Surely I was called for some kind of purpose?" His voice was sugary innocence and syrupy suggestion.

It was although the outlying regions of her brain had just shut down. Say something! she shrieked silently at herself in desperation.

A light squeaking wove its way between the two. It took a moment for Sarah to realise that it was the crystal still perched atop of Jareth's index finger. It was rotating slowly, and the friction on the leather of his glove was like a screw being leisurely driven into Sarah's composure. But as screws tend to do, it was serving only to tighten – and in this case it was her self-control. Two could play at this damned 'meaningful pauses' game.

"Of course there was a purpose Jareth." She rearranged herself on the bed, her pause not intended to blatantly pose herself but to make him aware of the rustling of sheets. "I need some trash taken out." She gestured regally at the small wastebasket under the desk. "It can be so hard to sleep when these little things keep niggling away. Be a dear and take care of it will you?"

"Oh how you humans do like to talk of the mundane!" Jareth said airily. "I had forgotten how much you liked to pretend Sarah. I'm sure you would play the violin as the city burned" His mouth twisted into a faraway smile as he thought of the old days of Rome while Sarah pulled her covers around her tighter with a confused expression. "But of course I wouldn't expect you to know anything of history, pet." Jareth's eyes riveted themselves to Sarah's form again causing his earlier phrase to echo through her mind: 'focus and intent love… Focus, intent and completion.' She didn't dare to think what his intent was in this case, although he seemed content to follow her thoughts through to their logical conclusion as he intentionally conjured a crystal and twirled it about with his fingers.

She started as he rose from the chair, his ungainly position flowing smoothly into his usual regal stance. 'For someone with a bird for a totem animal or whatever, he sure moves like a cat' Sarah thought to herself. Although for a moment she was sure he was going to approach the bed, he shifted direction and leant against her chest of drawers. Freeing his arms (nothing up the sleeve, nothing at all) he brought his hands up in front of him and conjured a shining, perfect crystal.

"I thought we already established that the old 'I will give you your dreams' trick wouldn't work on me Jareth." Sarah's voice dripped with sarcasm.

"Oh do pay attention Sarah." This seemed to be all he was willing to say, seemingly with all of his 'superior' attention focused on his own crystals. Typical, thought Sarah. It's always about the guy's balls.

The silence stretched out. And snapped.

"Would you stop playing around!" Sarah blurted with frustration. At that his mismatched eyes snapped up to her own, filled with a sort of predatory recrimination, as though she had been as rude as to interrupt a lion's daydream. Not dropping his gaze he inclined his head "Certainly".

Sarah almost instinctively shouted warning as the ball abruptly dropped out of Jareth's graceful hand; looking so much like a fumbled catch it was shockingly uncharacteristic. But as the light broke along with the crystal Sarah bit her lip with apprehension of how nothing Jareth did was ever without purpose… and oh how he loved to twist her words.

The room now was pitch black – darker than it could possibly be, given the streetlight just outside her window. Instead she stretched out her senses as much as she could, straining to hear above the thundering of her own blood through her ears. She knew he was still there; there was no doubt about that. One thing you could never forget about the Goblin King was his sense of presence. Sarah had no hesitation that she would know he was even if it was on the opposite side of a football stadium. That didn't put her in too good stead now though, because given the size of her room he could be no more than three metres away and that was so close she could practically feel him all around her.

"Ja…" she paused to clear away the tremor in her throat, "Jareth?"

"I thought you might feel more comfortable like this love. You seem to like the idea of me so much more when it's dark." She could hear the chuckle on the end of his breath, but felt she could breathe again herself as his words were still coming from her chest of drawers. Obviously he hadn't moved yet and was just having fun at her expense. A pretty big 'just', but she was almost willing to overlook it for the moment.

Almost.

"Why the games Jareth?" Sarah drew her tattered mind together to launch a counterattack. She was pressed up against the headboard, body as tight and tense as a prize-fighter waiting for an opening.

"As before, Sarah, I follow only your wishes. No games." She heard his fingers thrum neatly on the wood of her vanity, the sound slightly dulled by the glove.

"You may not realise this Sarah, but you are painfully transparent. I can hear your heart from here. I feel every contraction, every… release." His low voice held the promise of so many releases. But shaking off that thought Sarah realised he had kept speaking. "--can taste your breathing, can smell your movement." Sarah caught a glimpse of sheen off golden hair as Jareth inclined his head to indicate the fog of sensations that surrounded him.

"I never understood why so many mortals insist upon drunken fumblings for these first precious moments of awakening, drugs to dull sensati—"

"And you said mortals like to waffle on!" Sarah interrupted with an unladylike snort.

Jareth continued on smoothly, "Waffles? As much as I'm flattered you're thinking of our breakfast already I do have a point I'd like to get to." He took her silence as permission to carry on. "Do you not feel alive right now? Are you not shiningly, vibrantly aware of every part of your body? I haven't even touched you once but already your skin imagines a thousand contacts."

"You'll never touch me" Her voice was low with unconcealed threat. "I hate you."

Jareth's laughter rang surprisingly genuine. "But hate isn't the opposite of love dear Sarah! They are but opposite poles and therefore each is as highly attractive as the other." She could hear his footsteps as he began to approach her bed. "No other two emotions have as many similarities, have the same passion."

He sounded very serious. "The only person one devotes more time and energy to than one's lover is one's enemy."

Sarah felt the mattress depress with a sudden weight at her feet and she struck out blindly, catching something with a fleshy thud. This didn't stop Jareth's speech though as he caught her legs and pulled from her sitting position down to sprawl upon her bed. "The true contradiction to hate and love - is indifference," He let go of her legs and Sarah could feel Jareth's weight shift up and alongside her body, not touching although her abused nerves were now crying out for something anything to kill the apprehension of waiting.

The next few words were trailed throatily against her collar as Jareth moved in to brush his lips against her neck. "And we both know that the one thing you could never feel for me would be indifference."