Warning: This is a good time to remind people that this entire story carries with it an M rating. This chapter earns it, so if you even remotely suspect you might be offended by the potentially graphic nature of this chapter, please do not read any further. Don't say I didn't warn you, because I most certainly did. And consider yourself warned again for good measure. What, are you still reading? I would've thought you'd be scrolling down like mad by now...

Chapter Twenty-Four: Strangers Till Now

When it ended they simply held on, treading water against the river's current. Sarah clung to the Goblin King and gulped the cool night air, trying not to cry. Don't let this be just another dream, she thought. I can't bear it if this isn't real. But he felt real, his arm tight around her and one hand stroking her hair. She leaned into the protective curve of Jareth's shoulder, taking comfort from the heat of him.

It was so very cold. Thin, jagged panes of ice swirled past them on the river's flow and ice crystals frosted Sarah's hair and eyelashes in silver-white. The Goblin King brushed at them absently, lips grazing the soft hollow of her temple. She shivered in his embrace, the drowned maiden he'd pulled from the dark waters. Jareth pulled her closer. He had to get them out of the river. He had to get her warm. But for the longest time he dared not move, and it was enough just to be. If I cannot control my destiny, thought the Goblin King, This may be our end. Faint but steady, he felt the flutter of Sarah's heartbeat and closed his eyes. But so be it.

He swam them both to shore, staggering a little as he lifted Sarah out of the water. She could barely stand, and water-weed still wound around her legs and arms, trailing behind her in dark streamers. The river did not want to let her go. The sight of her crouching pale and exhausted on the gravel shore, reminded Jareth of what he had nearly lost. If he did not move quickly, the Shadow King might claim her yet. He wrung water out of his tattered shirt and helped Sarah pull off the clinging weed with fingers nearly numb from cold. She shook like a birch leaf in the wind and did not complain, but at last he could bear it no longer and grabbed her hand.

A feeble burst of energy surged down through Sarah's fingertips and she jerked a little. The sensation wasn't unpleasant, but it startled her. She looked to the Goblin King for explanation but Jareth held her fast, avoiding her gaze.

"It will not harm you," he said, concentrating. "Be still, Sarah."

Countless needles pricked her skin as the blood flow was restored, the warmth gradually spreading through her limbs until she could move again. Sarah touched the hem of her shirt and exclaimed in wonder. Even her clothing was dry.

When it was finished, the Goblin King released her and collapsed against the trunk of a tree, his face white as paper. Sarah hastened to hold him up, but he pushed her away, coughing feebly. She watched him retreat, an impassive mask slipping into place. Sorrow and panic made her want to grab hold of him before he could leave her again, but she resisted, her nails digging bloody crescents into her palms. She contented herself with merely looking at him, the words forming silently in her mind. Stay.

Jareth blinked, and for a moment, she thought he'd heard her. Droplets of water sparkled on his lashes and ran down his face, his mouth set in a stubborn line. He struggled wordlessly with something, and the awkward silence stretched thin between them. He was about to speak, to say something that would shatter it all. Sarah could not let him.

She placed her hand on his lips, marveling at their softness. "Don't," she said quickly, "Not before I--"

The Goblin King took her hand, folding it between his own and drawing it down to rest between them. "Sarah," he began, his voice heavy with pain and reluctance, "This cannot--"

It was now or never. Sarah took a deep breath.

Fear me, love me... Do as I say and I will be your slave...

"I love you, Jareth. It always been you. There is no other for me."

The Goblin King closed his eyes as if she had wounded him, the breath in his throat momentarily stilled.

"Nothing will ever change my mind," said Sarah in a nervous rush, "But if you don't..."

But she was silenced by the Goblin King opening his eyes. They were bright as blue flame, shining with fierce exultation. Sarah took a step backward and pulled free from his grasp, but he did not appear to notice. All around them, the silverwoods swayed under an unearthly wind, their branches singing a high, thin song as the leaves fluttered and fell.

As she watched with growing consternation, the water streamed off his body like quicksilver, his torn shirt shifting form and color like a chameleon's skin. Within moments the last shreds of his clothing had gone, replaced by linen and lace, elegant breeches and vest in deep blue silk. Dove-colored gloves encased his hands from wrist to fingertip. Jareth laughed and it rang through the Silverwood like golden bells. All the age and weariness dropped from his face, and now he stood taller than before, streaks of violet in his pale gold hair. He turned to her, his face blazing.

"Yes," he breathed softly, "At last I understand."

This was not quite the reaction Sarah expected. Before she could think to speak, Jareth took her by the shoulders. She could feel magic radiating off him in heated waves, and a scent that reminded her of starlight over the water. To her dismay, an all-too-familiar darkly arrogant smile that came over his face.

Still keeping his hold upon her, he flexed one gloved hand experimentally and a crystal appeared, hovering just over his palm. One small gesture and it flew into the air, soaring up through cathedral of trees above them and filling the clearing with a light as bright as day. Higher and higher it flew, past the tops of the trees and into the night. A flick of Jareth's finger and it burst, sending a shower of starry sparks raining down upon them.

Sarah swallowed apprehensively. "You're back."

"So I am."

Jareth slid his hand down to her wrist, turning it over and gazing at the silvery mark that shimmered a little fainter now on her white skin. His expression was unreadable,with only his eyes like glowing cinders to betray his thoughts. Sarah did not move away, suspecting that even if she had tried, he would not have allowed it.

"And what are you going to do?"

Jareth drew off his gloves, and his bare hands looked oddly vulnerable to her eyes, pale and slender in the moonlight. He crumpled the gloves and let them fall to the ground, forgotten. He did not so much as glance at them again, instead taking a purposeful step toward Sarah. It felt like a ritual, a dance of measured steps, and when the Goblin King took her face in his hands she felt a tingling current at their contact.

Jareth drew in a slow breath, smoothing the skin of her cheekbones beneath his fingertips as if he were memorizing every detail. All the barriers between them had gone. He brushed the edge of his thumb over her lips in a soft gesture, looking at her as if he were seeing her for the first time. Sarah wanted to close her eyes, standing as still as she could so he would not stop. She turned her head slightly, leaning into the pressure of his fingers. Everywhere he touched her left a trail of heat.

"What would you have me do, Sarah?"

Sarah's throat closed up, she could not speak. A dull throb of pain in her wrist began working its way up her arm, an ominous reminder and warning. She blinked back tears. Save me.

"Yes," said the Goblin King, "I will do that."

His kiss was swift and hungry, sending a sweet ache down the length of her body. This time there was no distraction of an icy river or frozen limbs, and she gave herself over to it completely. Jareth's mouth was both hard and yielding, tongue entering her with firm, plundering strokes that matched the rhythm of his caresses. She moaned against the unexpected invasion and pressed closer, his fingers splayed tight in the small of her back. When Jareth released her for a breath, she looked up into his eyes. One was icy blue, the other dark with a ring of topaz fire. They are beautiful. Sarah wondered why it had taken so long for her to see them, to understand what was unspoken. Suddenly daring, Sarah leaned forward and nibbled the fullness of his lower lip, catching it gently between her teeth before releasing it with a tiny flick of her tongue. The Goblin King gave a low growl and his arms tightened possessively around her.

Encouraged, she threaded her fingers through the silken fall of his hair, explored the taut line of his jaw. Sarah could feel the rapid pulse of his heartbeat beneath her fingertips, and then it seemed unbearable to her not to touch more of him. She tugged the hem of his shirt free, sliding her hands up the flat of his stomach and over his chest. He was smooth and hot to the touch, slightly damp with perspiration. The rise and fall of his breast quickened as Sarah raked her fingernails lightly over his skin, and he paused, lost in distraction. Every part of him tensed, but he did not move, only stood there as if carved from marble. As she watched, a bead of sweat trickled down his throat, and Sarah found her breathing came with great difficulty. Touching was not enough, she wanted to taste him.

She disengaged herself from him with great effort and pulled open his shirt, trailing her tongue to dip down first into the hollow of his throat, then the ridge of his collarbone. Jareth tasted of salt and spice, something both familiar and exotic all at once. She licked her lips and grazed the satin skin of his chest, tracing slow, wet circles that spiraled ever outward. He clasped her shoulders hard, as if he wanted to push her away and keep her there at the same time. Only when he gave a small intake of breath did she move away only to turn her attention to the sensitive spot just beneath his jaw, nibbling delicately.

His face buried in the fragrant tumble of her hair, Jareth groaned helplessly and spoke her name. She ignored him, trailing her hand tantalizingly downward, slipping her fingers just inside his breeches to stroke the velvet skin beneath. The Goblin King's reaction was electric, and before she could take another breath, he had her up against the trunk of a tree, the bark cool and rough against her back. He made a noise of frustration deep in his throat, hands slipping beneath her thighs to raise her higher in one rough, desperate movement.

Now it was Sarah's turn to cry out as Jareth began again, deliberate and slow, his kisses burning a fiery trail down her throat. She tasted like milk and honey to him, and he almost purred, savoring the way her breath came in little hitches and sighs. If the mark on her arm still hurt her, she did not show it, and Jareth's elation smouldered below the surface. Sarah twisted in his grasp, but he did not let her go, instead reaching up to graze the creamy undersides of her breasts with his fingertips. His mouth found her nipple through the silk of her shirt and it tightened at his touch. He bit down lightly, suckling until the cloth grew warm and wet beneath his tongue. Sarah gasped and arched into the curve of his body, and Jareth relished the feel of her against him, taut as a bowstring. I will give her pleasure to drown the pain, I will make her forget...

He grew impatient with even the flimsy impediment of her clothing and returned to her mouth and its sweetness like ripe berries. Sarah sighed in disappointment, but he stilled her protests with kisses.

"My destruction," he murmured against her lips, "And my salvation..."

Hands again beneath her thighs, he let her slip down and wrapped her legs around his waist, the weight of his body pinning her firmly against the tree trunk. Sarah writhed but could not escape his iron grip, and with a bruising kiss he ground his hips against her. The hardness of his arousal shocked her, and he moved with an almost taunting deliberation, pressing into her sensitive flesh. She could feel the unyielding length of him through the thin cloth, the delicious friction kindling a slow burn low in her belly.

"Jareth... Please..."

When she spoke his name, he trembled in her arms, but gave no sign that he'd heard. With unsteady hands, he pulled her down onto a bed of leaves, rolling her beneath him. Sarah tugged at his shirt, wishing it gone and wanting to feel all of him. Finally Jareth reached up and shrugged out of it as quickly as he could before taking her in his arms again.

"Sarah," he said, his lips brushing her throat, "Beloved."

Sarah cried out in pain and stiffened in his embrace. The King of the Dead's mark flared with heat, a living brand upon her body. She sobbed to feel it sear her to the bone, and Jareth snarled in response. Crouching above her with his shoulders bare and ivory in the moonlight, he looked like a feral creature. Rage and jealousy lit his eyes, but he restrained his anger, wrapping Sarah closely in his arms.

"Softly, my Sarah," he told her. The Goblin King's eyes were full of hunger and compassion. "This will not be easy on either of us, but when it is over he will have no hold upon you. I mean to claim what is mine."

Unable to speak for the agony, Sarah nodded through her tears.

He kissed them as they trickled down her cheeks, tasting her sorrow. Then his hands were at her waist and she heard the sound of silk tearing, the night air cool upon her thighs. Sarah breathed in the scent of moss and rain mingled with the saltier musk that was Jareth, and in a moment he was there again, heavy upon her. Gone was the elegance and composure of the Goblin King she'd known. He fought to control his breathing and she could feel the heat of him hard against her, building her need to an unbearable pitch. Jareth moved above her, a thin sheen of sweat on his brow. He caught her hand and brought it to his lips, fever-hot against her cool skin.

"I will hurt you," he warned her hoarsely, "And I will not be able to help it. This is your last chance to say no, Sarah. Later, I... I may not be able to stop."

Sarah looked up at him and her stomach gave a strange little flutter, but but she raised herself up and slipped her shirt over her head. The air had grown cooler and a damp mist drifted through the silverwoods, but Sarah shivered because his eyes were upon her. She pulled him to her and brushed her lips along his jaw in a brief, sweet exploration.

"Don't stop. Whatever happens, promise me you won't stop."

Jareth hissed as she shifted underneath him, the damp curls of her sex brushing against his shaft. He pressed her to the ground, wanting to see pale beauty of her body on a bed of emerald moss and leaves. The mix of fear and desire in her eyes was intoxicating to him, and he ravaged the alluring whiteness of her throat and shoulders, cupping her breasts and rolling the tight buds of her nipples in his mouth. She tasted so sweet, Jareth wanted to devour her as if she were both lover and prey. Sarah sensed that hunger, but did not recoil. She wound her hands into his hair, curling around his body like a cat.

Her ragged sighs set his blood on fire, but it was too soon, she was not yet ready. Jareth slipped further down, tasting the velvet of her belly. Sarah tensed, both curious and afraid. She had never let a man get so close, and she didn't know how it would feel. The naked hunger in the Goblin King's eyes frightened her, but she longed to let him touch her, let him do whatever he wanted. A strand of his hair blew feather-light against Sarah's thigh and she nearly jumped. But Jareth held her, stroked her from hip to knee, murmuring words of reassurance against her skin. The low hum of his voice and the unhurried caresses calmed her, until he parted her trembling thighs with his hands.

At the first touch of his mouth upon her, all her fears were forgotten. Sarah's head fell back, her mouth open. She could not control her movements now, the way she unashamedly opened herself to him, wanting more.

"My...god..." she said with a choked whimper.

Jareth slid his fingers over her sensitive mound, following them with his lips and tongue. He tasted in her the savory tang of the ocean, a sweetness like the nectar of a rare flower. Sarah moaned and twined her fingers in the hair at the base of his neck as he increased pressure, dipping into the slick folds of her sex with growing urgency. She writhed but he held her firm, sliding his hands beneath her buttocks to bring her even closer. Sarah wept and dug her fingers into the earth, but he did not stop. She did not want him to stop.

His tongue delved even deeper in rhythmic strokes, laving the hard little bud of her and suckling gently as Sarah's soft cries escalated. She was slippery as river-weed, her hips canted upward to take him. Jareth thought his own hunger would drive him mad, but he waited, fingers tracing wet circles on the inside of her right thigh while he ground the palm of his other hand against her. She was ready. He slipped two fingers inside her, her passage tight and wet around him. He hoped it would not be long, because Jareth did not think he could bear it, this act so close and so far from what he wanted. But he did not have to wait. The sudden intrusion made Sarah arch off the ground, her cries reaching a desperate peak, and that was when he struck.

He gave no warning, not wanting her to flinch. As she climaxed and he rolled the creamy salt of her rich upon his tongue, Jareth pulled back and spread her thighs to the moonlight. There, the milky whiteness of her inner thigh, softer than anything he had ever touched. There he marked her, biting down hard and without hesitation.

The feel of him inside her and the pressure of his palm drove Sarah closer and closer, although she was not yet satisfied, she still wanted more. She ached with need and drew breath in order to beg, command, say whatever it took for Jareth to come to her. Heat built in her like a growing bonfire, she was so close... When she felt his teeth close upon the tender meat of her thigh and pierce the skin, Sarah screamed, pain mingling sweetly with pleasure as it sent her hurtling over the edge.

She did not know how long she lay there, sobbing and spent. When she opened her eyes, Jareth crouched above her, breath coming hard, his eyes wild and mouth smeared with crimson. Sarah glanced down at the bloody ring that marked her thigh, but he gave her no time to respond. With a snarl, he threw himself on her, holding her down on the forest floor. His lips tasted of blood, salt, and dangerous promise.

I will hurt you...

She clawed at him in fury, but he paid her no need. Raising her hips with one hand, he guided himself into her with one hard thrust. There was jagged, brief agony, and she muffled her scream in his shoulder. He was impossibly rigid but slid inside her like wet silk, filling her in a way she had not even imagined. He hurt her, but Sarah wanted it more in spite of that, wanted to move against him and hear the sudden catch of his breath. But she had no voice to speak her desire.

Frozen by her cry of pain, Jareth did not move for a few long moments, only cradled her in his arms and kissed her a dozen times, then a dozen more. She could feel him straining to hold back, shaking with the exertion and apology.

"The worst is over," he said softly into her hair, "I promise you, love. It will never be like this again."

His kisses were hesitant and searching, as were the hands that ran over her body to explore each curve of her body with tender deliberation. The rosy peaks of her nipples tightened again with a brush of his palm, the soft down of her belly rising to meet his touch. He slipped a hand between them to begin the sweet, stroking pressure that soon had her gasping and pressing herself against him. When she was ready, he began to move inside her, slow movements that had her mewing in pleasure instead of pain. Jareth groaned as he thrust into her again and again, sheathing himself in the wet heat of her. Their animalistic mating was darkness and light, death and rebirth, and he wished it never to end.

Mine, he gloated silently as he looked down upon his love, She is mine.

Her lips parted in a sensual sigh, Sarah's legs tightened in a delicious clutch around his waist and victory sang in his blood like a battle cry. Far, far away, Jareth thought he could hear someone weeping, but he felt only fierce triumph. She wanted to feel him everywhere and he wanted to touch her, fingers tracing delicate patterns down her spine, cupping her buttocks and raising her hips so he could thrust even deeper. His strokes were long and punishing now, each one piercing her to the exquisite core.

"Beloved," he whispered, looking down into her eyes.

Sarah took rapid, shallow breaths, this time not so gentle as she drew her nails down his back. The heat was building inside her once more, an insistent ache in her thighs that had her arching off the ground. Her cries grew louder, her hips rose to meet each surging thrust. Raising herself a little, she bit down hard on the spot where his neck joined his shoulder, and Jareth's half-scream, half moan in response shattered her desire like glass. Sarah's need exploded into a starburst of blinding white and gold, and in the next moment Jareth was shuddering above her, muscles tensed and spasming, arms wrapped tightly around her body as he emptied himself into her.

Sarah did not realize she had spoken, did not recognize her own voice pleading with him as she rode out the turbulent storm. But she must have spoken, and Jareth heard her. His head lay upon her breast, one hand twined in her hair and the other cradling the curve of her hip.

"Sweet torment," he promised her, voice rough with pain and sated with desire, "I will never leave you."

Author's Notes: Writing this chapter nearly killed me, but it's finished and I couldn't have done it without Whiteraven. Her incredibly helpful suggestions and advice were invaluable and I owe her a huge debt of thanks for taking time out of her busy schedule to edit it.

Akthomps, you get your belated Christmas wish and then some. Heist, I hope this chapter makes you feel better.

Comments/reviews welcome.