Drunk Dialled

By Telcontarian

For ViciouslyWitty, BustedBrain, bowie_queen.

I am sneaking my way back into the Labyrinth fandom after discovering and falling headfirst into the rabbit hole that is Reylo.

This fic originated from an idea that came to me in the middle of the night and apparently, I found it interesting enough to scribble down on the notes app on my phone. Unfortunately, cue my utter confusion the next morning when I had literally no fucking idea what I had even written. I then asked my dysfunctional online family if any Labyrinth fanfics had ever been written involving a game of Slap, Slap, Kiss, and decided to combine it with the following prompt borrowed from ViciouslyWitty's "How to Catch a Goblin King:"

"Fuck you."

"Fuck me yourself, you coward."

A massive thank you to my fellow scribes and harbingers of chaos for letting me bounce ideas off of them, and for letting me borrow them as the inspiration for my supporting characters.

Without further ado, on with the shitshow!

Summary: In which CEO Jareth King and his PA Sarah Williams participate in a verbal game of slap, slap kiss.

Edited 14/3/21 for spelling and grammar errors.

Chapter One: The Fuckening

"You think you're so high and mighty standing there with your big, fuck off, wanker glasses and your big dick energy —"

Her fingers frozen over the computer keyboard, Catie frowned as she extracted the soft ear plugs that were both her most prized possession and a hot necessity at Royal Enterprises. The soft silicone, however, done little to muffle the commotion that was currently echoing from the CEO's office.

"Might I remind you, Precious, that I am your manager, and I will not tolerate this kind of verbal abuse —"

It was the same age-old argument that occurred at least twice a week in the confines of their shared office space: a verbal sparring between the CEO Jareth King and his Personal Assistant Sarah Williams. The office staff collectively agreed that the expletives they spat at one another in the heat of their disagreements were clearly fraught with unresolved sexual tension. Catie glanced over at Tyasha's workstation to find that her friend had also paused in her work and was currently rolling her eyes at the screaming match that everyone in the office was privy to. The office staff all knew that Jareth and Sarah's argument would continue for hours, resulting in a tense stalemate that would last until the next inevitable time that they butted heads and clashed horns over an upcoming project. Really, Catie and Tyasha knew that it was only a matter of time before Jareth and Sarah set aside their differences and just fucked it out of their systems.

"If you weren't such an egotistical megalomaniac —"

Tyasha, satisfied that Jareth was still too distracted and would not notice them leaving work two hours early, caught Catie's eye as she reached under her des and held up a bottle of gin that was still miraculously three-quarters full. Catie sighed with relief as she saved the document that she was working on, turning off the computer and pushing her chair back from the desk. They really did deserve their well-earned gin break she thought tiredly as she and Tyasha tiptoed past Jareth's office just in time to wince as Sarah, almost toe to toe with Jareth, poked the CEO hard in the chest.

Jareth's face was almost purple with anger when he snarled back at her: "I'm glad to see that your vocabulary has vastly improved. Maybe, you could actually put your newfound language skills to good use when writing up your reports. God only knows that it would be an improvement to the usual drivel that you send me."

Catie closed the door softly behind them just as the unmistakable sound of Jareth's computer hitting the floor and dying a slow, painful death for the third time that month reached their ears. They settled themselves in the thankfully empty staffroom, and Catie opened the bottle of gin with practiced ease, filling their coffee cups and clinking them together. They raised their cups in a toast to the two idiots who they could only hope would finally get their act together and just kiss already. The office staff had already cobbled together a betting pool to see when Jareth and Sarah would finally give into their primal urges and just get it over with. Each entry had become steadily dirtier and wilder over time, and the list consisted of many imaginative scenarios and positions that could only be achieved through a lifetime of intense yoga and sexual depravity. Clearly, the office staff spent far too much time reading smutty fanfiction when they ought to be working. Not that anyone could complain as so far, over £500 had been raised to help fund their Christmas office party.

Catie thought that Jareth would give in first and simply fuck Sarah over his desk and be done with it by Christmas. However, Tyasha reckoned she knew better, and had betted that Sarah would push Jareth down on his office chair and ride his dick before Halloween. No one wanted to even think about Dirty Dave's proposition that someone would walk into Jareth's office just in time to see them indulge in a disturbingly detailed, and frankly rather creative round of tentacle sex. No, some things just ought to be better left alone and preferably to Dave's sick and twisted imagination in the dark and gloomy depths of his mother's basement.

Either way, they thought miserably as they downed their drinks and Tyasha poured them each another healthy measure, when Sarah and Jareth finally got their shit together, they would be asking for a raise.

An hour later, Sarah stormed out of Jareth's office, anger rolling off of her in waves. Her teeth gnashed together furiously as she slammed the door behind her, vaguely disappointed that Jareth did not magically appear like the fucked up, fairy fucktrumpet that he was. Maybe he would even pull her back into his office for another round of verbal tongue lashing; the sick bastard actually seemed to get his rocks off on that. "Fucking men!" she yelled, throwing her hands up in frustration as she glanced around the room, and she immediately noticed the absence of Catie and Tyasha. Dirty Dave looked up from his computer, disappointed once again that Jareth and Sarah had not finally given in and indulged themselves in wild, octopus sex. She grabbed her mobile phone from her desk drawer, a soft frown tugging at her lips as she typed out a quick message into their group chat.

SARAH: Where are you both?

TYASHA: We're at The Castle.

SARAH: It's only Wednesday.

CATIE: Yeah, but it's karaoke night.

SARAH: Did you open the emergency gin again?

TYASHA: MAAAAAYBE.

SARAH: Fine, I'll be there in half an hour.

Sarah did not even spare a moment to feel ashamed about her lack of work ethics when she did not think twice about gathering up her coat and handbag to join her friends in the pub. She raised her middle finger in a mock salute as she passed by Jareth's closed door, and she could still hear him banging his head off of his desk in frustration. Fuck him, she thought miserably, resolutely ignoring her traitorous body that had perked up at her unintentional double entendre. Sarah's mind was immediately flooded with inappropriate images of her and Jareth's sweaty, naked bodies writhing together under silken sheets that made her blush. She highly doubted that some of the highly creative sexual positions that her brain had so helpfully conjured up were even physically possible. She also tried to convince herself that the flicker of desire that she could feel burning low in her belly was due only to the unfulfilling result of the sad hand jobs and unenthusiastic cunnilingus that she had been forced to endure in her last two hooks ups. And not because she wanted to climb Jareth like a fucking tree, thank you very much.

She very much doubted that it would even be possible to look Jareth in the eye tomorrow. She really needed to get laid.

When her alarm went off at 6.30am the next morning, Sarah wanted to die. A wave of nausea rolled through her body, and she moaned pitifully. Her stomach immediately threatened to expel the contents of the countless margaritas and eventually, tequila shots that Catie and Tyasha had imbibed her with.

"It's not fair!" she vaguely remembered screeching in her drunken state, recalling when the barman winced as Sarah lay her head down in the puddle of beer and saliva that had been spilled on the countertop. She was barely aware of the fat, balding, middle-aged man with a beer belly at the karaoke stand who had cheerfully murdered her ear drums to the tune of "Sex on Fire." Hell, she wouldn't even bring herself to care right now if someone actually had set her sex on fire, if it meant an end to her embarrassingly dry spell. The last of her fucks had officially been given after Tyasha and Catie had spent three hours plying Sarah with alcohol while they coaxed out their friend's deepest, darkest desires from her unresisting brain. "Jareth could rearrange my insides with his massive dick, and I would probably still thank him for fucking me through the headboard," she had lamented. "Why do all the assholes have giant dicks anyway? Is it too much to ask to get the dicking down of my life and not have to worry about the man attached to the end of it? I swear, Jareth's dick is going to shrivel up and die a blue-balled death because he is such an arrogant prick."

Tyasha patted her back in sympathy while Catie cheerfully handed her another shot of tequila.

Sarah rolled over in bed to silence her phone, thankful that some minute, rational part of her brain that had somehow not been affected by alcohol had remembered to plug her phone in to charge overnight. She frowned as she scrolled through a dozen text messages, each one more frenzied and slightly hysterical than the last.

CATIE: GIRL, ARE YOU OKAY?

TYASHA: For the love of God, please let us know that you're still alive.

CATIE: I fucking knew it: he murdered you with his massive cock, didn't he?

What the ever-loving fuck were they even talking about? Sarah frowned at the text messages in her alcohol-induced brain fog, uncertain why her friends would even be concerned for her well-being when she had clearly gotten home safely. She groaned, throwing her head back on the pillow, and she thought about taking a sick day for the first time in her adult life. She snorted inelegantly as she imagined the thunderous look on Jareth's face if she phoned in sick, and she whimpered when her head throbbed as the sound was amplified tenfold.

Sarah squeaked in surprise when an arm snaked around her waist, drawing her body back against a warm, firmly muscled chest. A contented sigh rumbled through the man behind her, and her brain helpfully informed her that it was indeed a man at the feeling of the large erection poking insistently against her backside. Oh god, if she went home with that fifty-year-old bald guy on karaoke last night, she would wait for him to fall asleep before she chewed her own fucking arm off and attempted to sneak out of her own apartment. She only hoped that Tyasha or Catie would put her up for however long it took while she burned her bed and fumigated her home of his presence. Maybe she would call a priest to bless her house for good measure.

Just as Sarah was about to close her eyes and hope to God that when she woke up again, she would find out that it had all been a horrific, tequila induced nightmare, it was only then that she realised that she was naked. And so was the man who was currently happily spooning her, his body heavy with sleep as he half pressed her into the mattress. His warm breath caressed her ear like a lover's touch, and his sinful lips ghosted over the delicate shell of her ear.

"Go back to sleep, Precious," murmured an achingly familiar voice, and a shard of ice pierced through Sarah's heart. Dread settled heavily in her stomach when the identity of her sleeping companion was finally revealed, and for one heart-stopping moment, Sarah's traitorous body was tempted to follow that excellent advice. "It's too early."

Fortunately for Sarah, her rationality decided to finally make an appearance at long last, although her subconscious pouted its disapproval. "What the fuck, Jareth?" she screeched, and she tugged the blankets firmly around herself before she scrambled the fuck away from her boss. Unfortunately for Sarah, covering had naked form had slowly pulled the sheets away from Jareth's body, revealing him like a work of art. She could only watch in half-hearted horror as his strong, lithe body, that seemed to be carved from marble, was unveiled for her perusal. In spite of herself, her eyes immediately dropped to the impressive package nestled at the apex of his thighs, silently taunting her. Sarah knew that if she only reached out to wrap her fingers around it, not only would his penis show Sarah her dreams, but it would also fulfil every perverted fantasy that she had ever had. His penis would undoubtedly ruin her for all other men; death by dicking had never looked so fucking good.

"Fuck," she whimpered, and she wondered if it would even fit inside her, even as her brain helpfully provided her with a plethora of sexual positions and invited her to pick her favourites.

"See something that you like, Precious?" Jareth asked smoothly, a slow smirk curling at the corners of his mouth.

"Not really," she replied, but the lie was ruined by the tightening of her nipples against the silken, midnight-black sheets, and the crimson blush that was currently staining her cheeks. From the feral grin that was rapidly tugging at Jareth's lips, Sarah knew that he had not bought her lie either, and she cursed her body's visceral reaction to him. "What the fuck are you even doing in my bed?"

"I can assure you, Sarah, that I am not in your bed; you are in mine."

Sarah spluttered indignantly, but even as she glanced around the unfamiliar bedroom, she knew without question that Jareth was telling the truth. "How did I even get here?"

Jareth frowned; reaching over to tuck a stray lock of hair behind Sarah's ear. She wrinkled her nose in disgust when she inhaled the pungent aroma of cigarette smoke and vomit, the sticky strands of her hair caked in god only knows what that she didn't even want to deal with right now. "Unfortunately, you decided that it would be a good idea to drunk dial me in 1am this morning."

"Oh God, no," she groaned, and she buried her face in her hands. "I don't remember any of this."

Jareth smirked. "No? Thankfully for you, Sarah-mine, I most certainly do. You screamed at me over the phone about how much you hated me and would not sleep with me even if I was the last man on earth. You were also crying that you wanted to, and I quote, 'Ride my stupidly large dick into oblivion just once to know what it would feel like.'"

"I didn't."

"You most certainly did, Precious," he replied, and the bastard sounded like he was thoroughly enjoying recounting her debauchery. "Fortunately for you I can be generous. Despite my ire at being woken up by my irrationally irate employee who wanted to both murder me and have me murder her with my cock in equal measures, once I determined your location I stepped in like a gentleman. I offered my services to pick yourself and your friends up from the pub, and make sure that you all made it home safely."

"That still doesn't explain why I woke up in your bed."

"You passed out in my car before you could provide me with your address, and your friends conveniently couldn't seem to recall where you lived either."

"Did we – you know?" she mumbled, unable to meet his eyes when she made an obscenely rude gesture with her hands.

"I don't make a habit of engaging in alcohol-induced intercourse," replied Jareth coldly.

"If we didn't have sex, then why are we both naked?"

"Your clothes were covered in vomit; I had no choice but to provide you with one of my shirts to sleep in. After putting you to bed, you then proceeded to strip off both your clothes and mine and tried to drag me into bed with you, where you attempted to make good on your promise to ride me into oblivion. I'm sure that you will understand when I say that I had to respectfully decline your offer."

"Please tell me that this isn't happening." Sarah yelped when Jareth reached over to helpfully pinch her. "Oh God, this really is happening. I'll hand in my resignation; I'll move to Alaska and become an Inuit."

Jareth rolled his eyes as he turned away from her to climb out of bed. Despite her best efforts, Sarah's eyes traced over the exquisitely toned muscle of his sculpted backside that Jareth presented to her like a gift. He was clearly at ease with his own body, and thoroughly unashamed of his nakedness; and really, that ass should be illegal.

Sarah, no! she reprimanded herself.

SARAH, YES! her brain replied enthusiastically.

"And I thought that I was dramatic; what do you want for breakfast?"

Despite her stomach growling with interest at the prospect of greasy, fried food to mop up her hangover, Sarah could feel herself growing angry with Jareth. He seemed to so blatantly ignore the fact that she had drunk dialled her boss, and practically offered herself up to him on a silver platter. He was well within his rights to fire her on the spot, or at least contact HR to file a sexual harassment case against her, and yet here he was casually inviting her to stay for breakfast.

Uncaring of her nakedness, Sarah threw the covers off of her in a fit of rage, before storming over to Jareth to prod him square in the chest with the tip of her finger. To his credit, Jareth managed to keep his eyes on her face for longer than she thought possible, before he dropped his gaze to ogle her bare breasts.

"Just so you know, buddy," she spat, even as a tiny neurone rebelled against her, and she wondered if Jareth liked what he saw. "Any sexual comment that I made last night was the result of one too many tequila shots, and definitely not because I find you attractive and want to screw your brains out. Because I definitely don't; I was horny, all right? And you were conveniently there for me to scratch that itch." Sarah almost faltered under his withering gaze, and she fought against taking a step back at the fury that seemed to emanate from every inch of his admittedly mouth-watering physique. She raised her chin stubbornly to draw his attention away from her chest.

"Keep telling yourself that, Precious," replied Jareth coolly. "I think that you've already made your intentions towards me quite clear."

"Get over yourself, Your Majesty," Sarah scoffed, falling easily into their everyday bickering. To her dismay, tears of frustration were beginning to pool in her eyes; but she would be damned if Jareth saw her crying. "I would rather sew my flaps shut than sleep with you."

"Fuck you, Sarah," he growled.

Her anger boiled over and even in her hungover state, Sarah knew that she was toeing the line into dangerous territory and pissing all over it like a territorial tom cat. Still, her subconscious was torn between waving frantically at her to stop and cheering her on, still dreaming about riding Jareth's massive dick into oblivion now that she finally had a basis for comparison. "Fuck me yourself, you coward."

"Why Precious," Jareth crooned, tucking his hand under Sarah's chin and tilting her face towards him, his eyes glittering dangerously and his lips parting in a filthy smirk that, much to her dismay, sent a trickle of desire straight to Sarah's core. "I was beginning to think that you would never ask."