"And just when you've gotten the lay of the land, the ground underneath you shifts. And knocks you off your feet."

Sarah Ó Rourke

Sarah hurried upstairs and changed into a silk négligée she had been saving. It was a deep red, almost burgundy, that came to mid thigh with a very low V in front.

She swept on some mascara, a bit of highlighting cream to her eyelids and cheekbones, and a lip stain that she knew Jareth loved. Brushing out her luxuriant dark hair, she looked at herself in the mirror and smiled. She wanted this to be special.

Lying on the bed, she tried different, seductive poses. She finally decided on one where she was lying on her side, upper arm lying across her hip, and the other hand on top of the pillow next to her head. Unbeknownst to her, Jareth was in the door frame leaning against the door frame, arms crossed, smiling.

He wore nothing but his medallion and dark blue silk pajama pants. She could stare at that lean, muscled chest forever.

When she caught him watching her she blushed. Then she said, "Hello gorgeous. Imagine meeting you here."

He walked toward her slowly, biting his lower lip for a moment. "Do you have any idea at all how difficult it has been for me not to make love to you for so long?" he asked.

He had already decided that this was going to be a slow, gentle lovemaking. Later, once Sarah was used to it again, he was going to absolutely ravish her.

He kicked off his boots, and knelt on the bed. Slowly, he crawled toward her on the bed, never breaking eye contact. His pupils were so dilated that the right one almost appeared to make his eye look black.

When he reached her, he slid his right arm under her neck, supporting himself with his left on the bed.

"May I kiss you?" His voice was already husky.

All she could do was nod. God, he was a breathtaking creature!

"Close your eyes." he said.

"No."

He raised an eyebrow. "But –"

She smiled up at him. "I want to see you."

"So you shall kiss me with your eyes open, then?"

"I've decided to make love to you with my eyes open the entire time," she replied, her gaze shining.

He tipped his head to her neck, kissing her jawline until he softly kissed her bottom lip, gently sucking on it.

She reached her arms around his neck, kissing him back more urgently. He smiled through the kiss. He intended to take this slowly.

She reached her hands into his hair, trying to pull him closer. Maddeningly, he remained, weight held on his elbows as he slowly showered her mouth and face with kisses that were soft and almost luminous.

She has been wanting him for so long now, and it was finally happening. She actually felt slightly dizzy and could feel her eyes roll back as he gently took one of her nipples in his mouth through the silk fabric of her négligée. She arched her back toward him. He made a noise somewhere between a growl and a laugh and pulled her closer.

Jareth pushed one knee between her legs to part them. Softly, he traced his left hand down the length of her body and reached up underneath the silk.

"Why, your ladyship! I believe you have forgotten your panties!"

She grinned at him. "Try again. I am wearing a G string."

"Ooh. I like G. I could play with your G string all day!"

She laughed softly and his fingers reached up to part her folds. "Oh darling," he growled in his deep baritone register. "You are so wet. Already!"

Sarah could feel his hardness through his silk pants, pushing up against her thigh.

"I'm not the only one," she purred. "How long are you going to torment me for?"

He had buried his face into the delicious curve of her neck. He began to suck on the soft flesh there; knowing it drove her mad. He mumbled something unintelligible.

"What was that?" she asked.

Reluctantly he pulled away from her neck. "I don't think I'm going to last as long as I had thought," he said. "I had wanted to draw this out for as long as possible, but that's becoming harder and harder to do."

"Pardon the pun." he added.

"Oh, yes. The pun. Is that what they're calling it these days?"

"You. Are A Very. Sassy. Girl. You always were…" he growled, reaching behind her to slide the négligée off.

She gave a faint huff of indignation and reached for his waistband, saying, "help me with this." He lifted his hips, and expertly used one foot to pull his pants completely off.

He bent her head back across his arm again and kissed her, softly at first, then with a swift gradation of intensity that made her cling to him as the only solid thing in a dizzying whirl. His insistent mouth was now parting her shaking lips, sending wild tremors along her nerves, evoking from her sensations she had forgotten she had ever had.

Only Jareth could do this to her. Only he ever could. She wanted him so much it physically hurt.

Now.

Gently, she bit his lower lip to break the kiss and get his attention. He raised his head and looked at her.

In her eyes was a combination of mischief, love, and complete lust.

Now.

She was breathing hard and looked back up at him. "Love?"

"Please, Jareth. Please, now!"

"Ah, hell with waiting! Are you sure?" He asked as he situated himself between her knees.

"Oh my god yes," she replied.

"I prefer oh my Goblin King yes."

She looked up at him with wild eyes, shaking arms around his lean, muscled shoulders.

"I love you," he whispered and pushed himself slowly into her. There was slight pain but she welcomed it. He moved slowly, not wanting to hurt her. The little pain she did feel was soon spiraling into pure ecstasy.

She thrust and pushed, demanding he go faster and harder. He fulfilled her every request.

He could feel her muscles contracting around him tightly. The fluttering muscles were a sign that she was close. He rolled over holding her on top of him so that he was now on his back.

He reached between them and felt that sweet little button of flesh, already swollen. Gently he begin to circle it with his thumb as she continued riding him.

She moaned and closed her eyes.

He pushed himself further into her, thrusting faster. She gasped, and he could feel her nearing the edge.

"Sarah," he whispered hoarsely, "you don't know what you do to me. I'm not going to last very long…"

Suddenly she arched back, her nipples pointing up, and he could feel her shaking and shuddering. He reached for her hands.

"Oh my God, Jareth Jareth! Oh God, don't stop!"

He kept her pace, wanting her to come first. As her screams turned into gasps, she bent down, and laid her head on his shoulder.

He flipped her again, so that he was on top. This way he could see her beautiful body. She was slick with desire.

His thrusts became more rapid, and he held both her hands back on the pillow. Sarah. His Sarah.

"Love?" She looked up at him

"Look at me. Look into my eyes."

They locked eyes together as he came inside her. She couldn't believe that he could go so deep. She could feel him pouring himself into her.

Jareth collapsed on top of Sarah, then rolled over so they were lying side-by-side. Sarah laid her head on his chest and he gently covered her with the bedsheets. He kissed the top of her head.

They were both breathing heavily still.

"I promise the next time it's going to be longer," he said. She just smiled.

"So are you saying that you just can't control yourself around me?" She asked teasingly, tracing circles over his chest.

"I'm afraid so," he said frankly. "And that's saying something, when you consider that I've been able to control myself with every other person I've been with for hundreds of years…you, my dear, completely own me; body, heart and soul."

She smiled and snuggled into him more closely. That was when the screams began.

~~~Ó~~~

Deirdre, Saoirse's nanny, was glad for the chance to spend time with the beautiful little baby. She was a young Fae, and because Sarah wanted to mostly raise her child herself, Deirdre often had nothing to do. She had held the little girl gently, quietly singing an old Fae lullaby. The child had gone to sleep relatively quickly, and Deirdre carefully put her in the crib in the nursery. She pulled a rocking chair up to the crib, and began reading one of the books from Above that Sarah had lent her.

Humming quietly to herself while reading, Deirdre didn't notice the greasy black shadow that had appeared in a corner of the room, near the crib. Slowly, it grew and slid over to the baby. It had taken on a monstrous, indescribable form, and seemed to be becoming more solid with each moment.

Hideous hand-like appendages reached for the baby. Deirdre sensed something, and looked up. The creature was just about to pick up Saoirse when Deirdre let out a bloodcurdling scream. The evil black form glared at her with blazing orange eyes. Deirdre lunged for the crib, snatching the baby and running to the door.

Jareth had heard her, and was standing in the doorway within seconds. He took one look at Deirdre's face, his daughter, safely in her arms, and was able to catch a glimpse of the malevolent black shape melting back against the wall and disappearing into the corner.

Jareth looked at Deirdre again. He had caught her by both arms. The girl's eyes were huge, she was gasping for breath, and shaking, clearly terrified. Jareth tried to calm her. "It's all right now, Deirdre."

He carefully took his daughter into his own arms, still looking at the nanny. "You did well, Deirdre, his voice was low and quiet. You most likely saved her."

"Wh-what was that?" she was still shaking.

"More than likely one of the Formorian shape shifters that have been spotted in increasing numbers throughout the Underground," he said, grimly.

Not yet able to transport on her own, Sarah had rounded the corner in a robe, a look of sheer terror on her face. She saw Jareth, Deirdre, and Saoirse, all safe. She still ran to them, questions in her eyes.

Jareth explained all that had happened, including the rescue by Deirdre. Sarah wanted to be sick.

"I know you've been talking about them being spotted in greater numbers, but to have one in our home? Would they really be that bold?" She reached for the baby with shaking hands.

Jareth handed her over to her mother, his mouth a grim straight line. "It would seem that way," he said shortly. "This is definitely escalating. I'm calling a meeting of the Privy Council immediately." He disappeared, doubtless heading for his office.

Sarah and Deirdre looked at each other with frightened eyes. Still, Sarah was not going to be intimidated by this, much as her panicking brain was telling her to. She held the baby firmly against her chest, and grabbed Deirdre's hand.

"Deirdre, I cannot thank you enough," Sarah said. "You look like you may be in shock. Let's get you in front of a fire with a mug of mulled wine. I could use one too. His Majesty is going to get to the bottom of this, I'm sure." They retreated to Sarah's sitting room.

An hour or so later, Finn, Cillian, Jareth and Tadgh all transported into the sitting room. The air around them crackled with anger and purpose.

Cillian approached Sarah immediately and laid a comforting hand on her shoulder. "Are you all right, Sarah? This has been quite a horrible surprise."

She nodded appreciatively. "I am, Cillian. And we all have Deirdre here to thank for her quick thinking." She looked at Deirdre and smiled. "You have officially become indispensable, Deirdre."

Finn magicked mugs of the hot, spiced wine to the others, and, in want of something harder, pulled a flask from his coat, taking a large swig. As he swallowed, he looked around the room holding out the flask to everyone, silently asking if anyone would like to share.

Jareth took him up on the offer, and held the flask out to Sarah, who declined. He then gave it to Cillian.

Seating himself between Sarah and Deirdre, Jareth created a crystal and spoke briefly into it, before rolling it over his knuckles and making it disappear.

"Was that your mother and sister?" Asked Cillian, reaching for the baby. "May I hold my beautiful gariníon?" He smiled at Sarah.

Sarah smiled back and handed Sarah to her grandfather.

"Yes," replied Jareth. No sooner had he said that than Brielle and Eimile appeared in the doorway. Cillian had told them everything before he had left for the Privy Council emergency meeting. Tadgh approached Eimile, who was still on crutches, and led her to a chair.

Jareth put an arm over the back of the sofa next to Sarah. When she turned to him, they both leaned their foreheads together. "Mo shíorghrá," said Jareth quietly. She reached for both his hands. Jareth knew it was now time to share some critical information with the family on what looked to be an upcoming war.

~~~Ó~~~

Mo shíorghrá - Mo Cuishle (COOSH-la) Literally means 'my pulse', for the person who makes your heart beat. Often generally translated as 'my darling'.

Garinion - – (GA-rinn-een) Granddaughter

A/N: David Bowie was a guest on many talk shows, and I'm trying to see every interview that I can. There was a particularly funny one where Jimmy Fallon had asked him to play a song, with Fallon accompanying him on guitar. While he was playing, a guitar string broke. David looked at it, laughing, and said, "I think you just broke your G string." It gave me an idea for part of this chapter.