A/N: As usual, I don't own the Labyrinth. Please also bear in mind that the story is rated "M". The standard 'thank you' goes to all you, reviewers, and my great beta! She has given me a fantastic support throughout the story.
Enjoy!
The Land That Is Not
Chapter 16
Jareth touched his lips thoughtfully, looking at Sarah with mock sympathy. "So tell me, Sarah. How should I punish you? I can hardly send you into the Bog. That would be too uncomfortable, not to mention, unpleasant for both of us."
"Since you're so set in your decision, why ask me at all?" she confronted him bravely yet unable to hide the tremble in her voice.
"Oh, but that just wouldn't be - appropriate." The lazy smile was all teeth: white, sharp, predatory, and nothing to do with amusement.
Before she came up with a bitter rejoinder, he continued blithely.
"Yet it is true that I would be far too generous to allow you have your say, since am I not, supposed to terrorize you?" A subtle shift in his appearance, the flickering gaze - both dreadful and elating - he cast on her, they all spoke their own language as he concluded his private musings with gleaming eyes, "And I think I might know just the right penance for you."
Sarah shook her head, clutching the towel even tighter and tried stepping backwards, Jareth's grip never letting go, the king following her like an untamed beast - sleek and dangerous and powerful. She didn't care that her body palpitated with terror over his allusion; seeing him like this singed like a hot iron.
"You -" The intensity of his dark eyes choked her voice and it took time to muster strength to continue. "I won't -"
Leaning closer, the distinctive aroma of his skin penetrating her senses and violating the borders of her privacy, he interrupted, "Sarah…" The way he pronounced her name should be penalized; rolling the 'r' softly over his tongue, whispering the 's' with a long soft hiss, like a caress - no other could quite succeed to call her the same way. "Yes, you will. And you will release your towel." He eased his hold and his lips curled up in a pointed, sly smile.
Nearly biting her lip, Sarah felt a tremor shake her body, the tips of her fingers now freezing cold. "You're out of your mind! I most definitely will not!" she let out a terrified cry.
"Sarah, you will obey and drop that towel, right now," he ordered with a sudden harshness. "Or I'll rip it from you and tear it to shreds myself."
The words chilled her, the humiliating vision flashing through her mind. Her eyes seething with helpless fury, Sarah finally allowed the cloth to slip from her hands, jolting at the hissing sound and the feeling of soft fabric sliding across her skin before it amassed in a shapeless pile next to her feet.
He didn't utter a word, and the silence stretched all her nerves. She nearly cried out with dread when Jareth moved, his shirt letting out a soft swishing sound. Instinctively, she backed away, only to stumble against the door and its cold and rough surface rubbing against her back.
He touched her chin and tilted her face up.
She didn't dare to move, swallowing loudly and staring into his eyes. The sudden sensation of his fingers on her collarbone sent a violent shock across her body.
She noticed only then his hands were bare of his usual gloves. He had long delicate fingers. For some reason, Sarah hazily reflected on that revelation; she had always imagined his hands like that: supple and slim, hands of an artist's. She let out an involuntary gasp when he touched her breasts; her nipples instantly hardening at the teasingly light contact. Jareth's eyes narrowed at her reaction.
The expression broke her numbness, reigniting her resistance. She tried to dodge away, but Jareth reacted faster. He slammed his hands against the door, the contact letting out a loud slap, and trapped her between him and the door.
"Jareth, no, don't!" Sarah whispered, terrified.
He didn't answer, staring at her with his eyes burning like coals and challenging her to stay still. Arrogance abandoned, face full of desire, he moved even closer and, slowly, bent down to clasp his mouth around her nipple. He sucked. Sarah bit her lip, trying to stifle a moan. Yet her body betrayed her, yielding under him and his warm tongue. She bent backward, the surface of the wooden planks scraping her skin, and let out a whimper, a pitiful sound even to her own ears.
Jareth's stiffened at the sound.
"What Sarah?" he asked in a low voice, pulling himself upright, and watched her closely, eyes dark. He placed his hand on her chest, drawing lazy circles over her skin and bent down to lick her neckline. "You want me to continue?" he murmured teasingly, nibbling her earlobe, his fingers caressing her, sliding down her spine to the small of her back.
"No…" her words came out as a pathetic moan, all her senses on fire under his touch. "I don't."
"Sarah, precious, you don't sound so certain," he teased her, mouth pressed against her throat, tracing an invisible path along her skin with his tongue.
"I am!" she gasped, dizzy under his assault. "I want you to- " She barely recognized her own voice: thick, dark and feverish. "Stop!" she whispered. "Please, Jareth, stop!" The humiliation he forced her to undergo burned all her pride away. "You've proven your point. You're right!"
He became rigid, pulling back but his eyes never left her. Horrified by her own reaction, Sarah didn't dare to meet his gaze. Her senses were screaming to pull back, escape and leave before it was too late. He had already seen her exposed; she shouldn't let him see into her soul. Yet she couldn't move.
Finally, Jareth broke the prolonged silence, "Look at me, Sarah."
Helplessly, she shook her head again, turning away; trembling.
"Sarah." His voice resonated with a confusing texture of passion, hate and anger as if he quite couldn't control his own feelings. Maybe more than his words, that raw emotion ensnared her attention. Complying with his command, she obeyed and faced the gleaming uneven eyes - their radiating, terrifying fire.
"What did you say?" he asked; no, demanded.
"Jareth," she released a tired sound, a deep guff of air, and leaned against the door. Gods! How weary she had grown with this play of cat and mouse, too exhausted to watch out for her every word, defy him in every possible way. "You know that I want you, Jareth. You don't -" her voice broke, "You don't have to prove anything more."
There was a flash of victory in his eyes, satisfaction, and then something older, deeper – almost vulnerable that robbed her of air.
"Such a foolish girl," he mused softly, rubbing her chin with delicate, gentle touches; sliding the tip of his finger under her bottom lip, "to say such a thing, stark naked, to a man while in his bedroom." A wistful smile, like a whisper of a distant memory, appeared in the corner of his mouth. "Such a smart girl to say so…" His gaze grew darker, his smile almost bitter, as if he were mocking himself.
"You -"
He hushed and placed his finger against her lips. "No more games, Sarah." The strange intensity of his stare scared her maybe even more than his previous lustful cruelty. "No threats, no insults, no denials." He continued a tangible stringency in his voice, so terrible she almost tasted its tang on her tongue, "You can make a decision to leave now, Sarah. You may turn your back and return to your room, and I won't stop you. You may stay as well, and I will make love to you."
At the revelation of his blunt statement, Sarah's mind abandoned words. Her body burned from where he had touched her, yet her mind echoed as if empty – from the shock? She couldn't say. Motionless, she only gave him a wild look; almost forgetting he could still ravish the sight of her naked body with his eyes.
"To demand such a decision, now," she whispered, swallowing hard. She closed her eyes; opened again. "Why?" Her voice sounded odd: strangled, scared - and yet trembling with half-buried lust.
"Why not?" he asked back.
"You've deprived me of all dignity," Sarah said hoarsely. "Yet you expect me to throw myself willingly at you? For what?"
"Desire can be a terrible motivator," he answered in a rough voice, an unexplainable glint in his eyes.
She gulped, understanding then the reason behind the long sideways looks he had given her across the dinner table, the terrible helpless anger she sometimes detected in his gaze. It wasn't because he blamed her for the disappearance of Toby, not because he might lose his throne, or her beating him in his own game. No, in truth, the blame of all that was just as much his as it was hers. His anger was something more personal. He hated that he wanted her just as much. For a moment, Sarah felt her knees buckling underneath her.
"The way you describe desire," her voice strangled in her throat, "makes it sound more like an obsession."
"Don't feign innocence," he mocked her, slipping his fingers across her skin, just above the collarbone, and his eyes narrowed at her involuntary shiver. "Desire is a feeling just as much as is anger, hate…or love, Sarah."
"But the price of surrendering to that kind of feeling, so blindly," Sarah muttered and took in a deep breath as to steady herself, still not quite grasping the extent of her earlier blindness concerning Jareth. "And what then? You seriously think it would end there?" she let out a choked laugh, almost hysterical, with frantic thoughts racing through her mind.
He didn't reply, and she looked at him, taking in his tension, the stiff posture of his shoulders and the uncertain flicker of his eyes. He hadn't expected her to say that aloud, she realized. Hadn't even thought about it himself. His surprise, written so clearly on his face, spoke volumes.
"You didn't answer my question," she said in a low voice, relaxing at last, giving him a long look through her eyelashes. "It wouldn't end here, would it, Jareth?" Almost amazed of her boldness, she placed her hand on his chest, feeling him tense under her touch. Heard the sharp intake of air and allowed herself a small smile, seeing it so very clear all of a sudden while slipping her hand beneath his silky shirt.
Desire could be a terrible motivator, indeed.
Unabashed, she took a step forward and rose on her toes. Unhurried, she captured his lips in her own. He stood unmoving as if paralyzed; then let out a sudden growl. Jareth's hands clasped around her waist and he jerked her violently against his body. His tongue slid inside her mouth, and she allowed it to enter with enthusiasm. Wrapping her arms around his neck, Sarah gave into him, breathing in his scent; savoring him.
His hands wandered restlessly over her body, down her back, and touching the arch of her bottom. He pulled her with him, steering them towards his bed. Just as impatiently, she pushed the silky fabric of his shirt out of her way, revealing more of his pale skin. Marveling at its smoothness, the hidden strength of the trembling muscles, Sarah skimmed her fingers over his body, before placing her mouth against his chest.
Jareth let out a surprised gasp and stopped, watching her with his eyes dark as she started stripping him. She kissed and nibbled him - his throat, chest, and stomach, tracing her tongue everywhere she exposed his body, and heard his uneven breathing. As she took him in her mouth, he choked out a pleased sound, gasping her name with a rough, feverish voice. His reaction exhilarating her even more, the grunted moans of her name that escaped his lips as she sucked him and felt him stiffening.
Admiring the sight of seeing him naked, thrilled at the impact she had on him, Sarah stepped back. She licked her lips, tracing her tongue slowly across her lip, daring him to meet her gaze; and saw his arousal. As if uncertain, a shadow of a wordless wonder playing over his features, Jareth reached out to touch her, running fingers through her hair. He moved so close his chest brushed her breasts and, tugging her hair, coerced her face up. He fastened his lips on hers, almost brutally, kissing her as if to punish her for her previous boldness. His tongue probed deeper, demanding her answer, and when he finally broke the kiss, Sarah could only gasp for air and cling to him.
As she lay down on the bed, he paused to inspect her, and Sarah shivered at the intensity she saw flickering in his gaze. He smiled then; a tiny warped smile before coming down on her. She wheezed, feeling him licking and tasting her, tracing small kisses all around her body, on her breast, her navel and abdomen. His fingers worked their way to her crotch, and Sarah whimpered.
"Sarah, precious…" His low voice resounded with a terrifying desire, a deep, unexplained yearning; and she gasped. "Tell me you want me!" he demanded, switching to his tongue, and she cried, yes, yes, yes, arching her back under his touch, throwing her arms out o on the bed in the climax of his delectable tormenting. He took pleasure in her reaction, his fingers pushing deeper, and ordered in a dark voice, almost desperate, "Say you want me, Sarah!"
Her body burned at the nimble touches of his tongue and fingers, curving against the bed as he played, nudged and tugged, until no coherent thought was left in her. Nearly oblivious, on the verge of her feverish desire, wriggling on the bed, she called out, "I want you, Jareth!"
He pulled back and, before Sarah could even catch her breath and calm her nerves, had moved over her. She cried anew as she felt him entering and coiled her arms around him, welcoming all of him. Jareth's mouth crushed her lips, and she tasted herself in his obsessive kiss, pulling him even closer, adapting to his rhythm. He let out unintelligible sounds at the back of his throat, pushing deeper, and she arched underneath him, crying out. They climaxed at the same time, embracing each other, bodies trembling and sweaty.
"My precious, Sarah." He buried his face in her neck, kissing her as if he couldn't get enough of her taste, of her. "I'll never let you go…" his words were only a whisper, which Sarah barely registered, her body still flushed of desire, her heart throbbing in a maddened pace, and panting. He looked up; locking his eyes with her, and gave her a slow and wicked smile, full of barely veiled meanings and filling her with apprehension.
"A vixen… Who would have guessed?" Jareth murmured, brushing her wet hair from her face and moving his fingers smoothly across her temples. His gaze darkened from passion, and she barely had time to breathe as he claimed her mouth another time.
They made love throughout the day until the point of utter exhaustion. Placing a tender kiss on the top of her head, he pulled her in his arms. Sarah buried her face in the crook of his chin, nudging closer and breathing in his enthralling scent, hearing him to let out a deep sigh. Jareth enfolded his arms around her, possessive, but she let it pass, her eyes fluttering close. Just before she fell asleep, a small knowing smile tugged her lips; remembering -
- and he had given her certain powers.
o O o
A sense of delirious warmth, a faint tickle running down her spinal cord, diffused through her dream and woke her up. The night had been the first decent one in weeks without her usual nightmares, and, slightly disoriented, she slowly came to terms with reality: the masculine body next to her, the appealing scent enfolded around her. Her eyes fluttered open, and she took a careful look through her eyelashes, half-hidden from Jareth's stare.
His fingers caressed her shoulders, skimmed over her skin as he studied her with a peculiar expression - almost wistful. His mismatched eyes, one silvery blue, the other one green, flickered when he discerned she was awake.
"Good morning, Sarah."
Despite having her own share of boyfriends and morning-afters, Sarah found herself incredibly nervous, pink creeping up on her cheeks. "Morning," she muttered, shivering for no particular reason and tracing her fingers across his sinewy chest, along the fine lines of his muscles as if not quite believing he truly lay beside her.
She wondered, slightly uncomfortable, what would this shift in the manner of their relationship entail, if she had just committed herself into something worse? Eternity in the Underground was bad enough, but to become his - lover? Mistress? One night stand? Her stomach interrupted her, grumbling loudly and displeased. Sarah cringed when she heard Jareth chuckling.
"I'm hungry, and no wonder." She winced when feeling her sore muscles, accusing him and poking him with her finger, faintly surprised at her easy attitude. "Not that I had time to eat too much yesterday. You took rather good care of that."
"Impetuous as usual, vixen," he mused aloud, amused and without any anger. "But I guess I could always arrange something."
She started when his eyes suddenly grew dark, with the uneven color of his irises steepening. His pupils dilated and constricted sharply, and his gaze turned inward as if his mind was travelling somewhere else. Then, he released a breath, relaxing, and the awareness returned in his eyes, their hue restoring back to normal. Incapable tearing off her gaze, Sarah saw the sudden flicker of another kind of hunger passing over his features.
Almost regretful, Jareth pulled further away, his hands skimming over her skin before getting out of the bed. He tilted his head, with an air of amusement about him and bowed jestingly, "Breakfast is served, madam."
Relieved to find the dining room empty of possible servants when they emerged from his bedchamber, Sarah, draped in a green silk robe with golden embellishments adorning the luxurious fabric that came down to her ankles, peeked around, curious. Despite seeing the room yesterday, she blushed suddenly; she hadn't paid too much attention to it, with Jareth dominating most of her focus. She seized her opportunity now, wandering further, her bare feet making a soft sound on the thick and expensive rugs that covered the cold stone floors. She slid her fingers across the dark wooden furniture, the chairs and sofas, clothed in the same burgundy red as Jareth's poster bed, with a sudden memory of the sofa's armrest jabbing her back yesterday, and stopped in front of a huge mirror. The reflection mimicked her movements, touching her bare neck, covered of dark marks the low-cut neckline of the emerald green gown hardly hid. She blushed at her ruffled image, wondering whether the robe belonged to Jareth or one of his previous mistresses the goblins had told her about. Mouth drawing a tight line, she cast the thought quickly away and massaged the base of her neck, absentminded, glancing over her shoulder.
Arms folded across his chest, Jareth was leaning against the doorframe and staring at her with a blank face, eyes hooded. The dark silk cloth – almost identical to Sarah's robe – he had thrown carelessly over him had been left half-open, gratuitously allowing a great deal of his slim body to remain visible. Sarah's mouth turned dry as she envisioned his mouth against hers, so tangible she nearly tasted him, a light tremor of excitement running through her; and flinched when an indistinct ache around her pelvic area cautioned her to slow down with her imagination.
He detached from the door, his movements graceful and effortless as if unaffected by the fact that they had spent all of yesterday in various positions, studying each other's anatomies. It had to be the advantage of being a debauch Underground king with millenniums of practice time, Sarah concluded with a quiet envy.
Silently, he sealed the space between them, his hands sliding inside the opening of her robe and the crook of his arm brushing the underside of her breasts. Forgetting her body's earlier discomfort, she found herself responding by instinct.
Her stomach decided to rumble another time then, and Jareth sighed, releasing her. "Nourishment first, then," he mused aloud, caressing her cheek, and Sarah nodded with a blush, wrapping the robe tighter around her.
She took a seat at the dining table, Jareth placing himself across the table. Her nostrils flared at the delicious scents, and she started piling items on her plate, hunger sweeping the tension out of her mind.
"What if I had tried leaving, yesterday?" she asked after awhile, hiding her face quickly and looking into her coffee cup. She felt his eyes on her.
"I told you you were free to do so, didn't I?"
She persisted, her attention fixed on the white porcelain cup and the golden design adorning it, "But you didn't know that Phaedra -"
"You're not honestly considering I would do something so tasteless as to ask her to deliver you, practically naked, to my room?" Jareth interrupted, scorn and amusement coloring his voice.
"As far I can tell, you weren't complaining too much," Sarah pointed out and took a deep breath, Phaedra's machination stinging her heart. "She's behaving awfully autonomous, taking into consideration you're supposed to be the king."
He looked amused, glancing at her with gleaming eyes before picking a peach from a wooden basket and toyingwith it in his hands. "Curiosity killed the cat, Sarah," Jareth reminded, a faint grin spreading across his lips. "Though I confess, she has a tendency to meddle with others' lives far too much for her own good." He danced the fruit across his fingers and his hands with nimble movements, and offered it to her.
She snorted, unaffected by his parade, but accepted the fruit, nevertheless.
"I would appreciate if she didn't do that with mine," she sighed, holding the peach with her fingertips and frowning at the fruit. "I mean, what does she gain from it, anyway?"
That same hooded look appeared in his eyes, and he considered his words. "I wouldn't make the assumption she benefits from anything."
"Oh." Uncomfortable by his insinuation, she looked aside.
"Admittedly, I'm not particularly pleased with her way of intervening, yet it would be presumptuous to put all blame on her. Or wouldn't you agree, Sarah?"
"That's not the point! You've admitted you don't even know what she's doing here, yet you allow her to conduct these little games." Sarah accused him sourly, placing the peach on her plate. "That's quite thick, coming from you."
"Sarah. Don't flatter yourself by thinking I wouldn't see through her little tirade," he warned her. "I've known Phaedra since the beginning of my time."
She registered the information, stuffing it in the back of her mind.
"I don't know her! And considering that I get the impression she only wants to make me your personal sex object, or – worse – join in later, is damn right upsetting!"
He blinked, staring at her incredulously. Then, his lips started twitching, the unexpected merriment twinkling in his eyes before he burst into deep bellowing laughter that brought tears to his eyes.
"I'm not joking!" she hissed, offended by his jovial outburst.
"Sarah, you have the most creative imagination." Jareth shook his head and wiped his eyes, still chuckling softly. "Just let me assure that Phaedra, most definitely, has no desire to 'join in' – as you so bluntly put it – and I want that to happen even less. I wouldn't either believe her goal to be something so cheap you assume, which is not to say I minded having you as an object of my pleasures," he flashed a sly grin, continuing before she could interrupt him, "but I doubt her plans include seeing you as something so - dreary."
"But…" Sarah whispered, tears of frustration and humiliation burning her eyes. "It doesn't make any sense. Why's she so interested in playing matchmaker?"
He took in a deep breath, his merriment waning away. "I guess you deserve an explanation." He tilted his head, looking at her in contemplation. "You see, Sarah, Phaedra and me, we are relatives."
Her mouth gaped open, breakfast forgotten, and he smiled wryly at her surprise. "Don't look so shocked, precious. I speak the truth. My mother is Phaedra's sister, and the only one before you to conquer the Labyrinth."