She wakes early, and feeling surprisingly well-rested, given the events of the evening before. There's the vaguest recollection of some pompous asshole creeping on her, followed by coming home and drinking just a little too much wine – an unpleasant enough memory to wake to, but its quelled some by the soft covers surrounding her. She's wrapped up so very warmly, safely cloaked in a rich heat her bed has never offered before, and savouring the sensation. She arches in pleasure, all but purring as she rolls her shoulders, enjoying the comforting warm air upon the nape of her neck – the gentle ebb and flow of what she finally realises is breathing.
The realisation that she isn't alone hits her with all the grace and subtlety of a Mack Truck.
"Ohwhatthejesusfuckingchrist." The words leave her mouth with the rapid machine-gun burst of an auctioneer, and she only barely restrains her body from tumbling right out of her bed. It would only bring him tumbling down on top of me, she thinks wildly, and then the memory's back – the recollection of what pale and beautiful stranger now shares her pillows. She's grateful that he cannot see her face.
There's a deep grunt from behind her, a tug on their joined wrists to keep her stable. "And a good morning to you, too, love," her companion grumbles.
It's Jareth, it's only Jareth, and the new thought that Jareth is only anything, let alone sharing her bed, is far more than her poor brain can handle. The fact that it's 'only' the Goblin King whose body has been curled around her own in the night should bring her no comfort whatsoever. This can't be happening. If wishes were horses, then this beggar would ride hers right the fuck out of this nightmare scenario at once. She moans softly, turning her face into her pillow with the wish that it might have mercy enough to smother her.
Of course, awful, positively evil wishes are what got her into this mess in the first place.
"Why?" she eventually cries into the pillow's plump and resolutely unforgiving softness. "Why 'attached'? Why not 'dating', or 'good friends', or 'screwing'?"
Jareth gives a small groan. "Give me five minutes to wake up before the screwing, at least."
She ignores him – or at least tries to, with the little burst of heat that causes. "Why, if you had to answer it, did you have to take it so literally? Couldn't you have just shown up and played the boyfriend card long enough for him to leave me alone?"
"This conversation isn't going away any time soon, is it?" He sighs as she chooses to punch the pillow, rather than him. "I'll take that as a 'no'. I only adhere to what you ask of me, precious. I've as little control over what you will of me as you apparently seem to have over your words. Now, can we give it half an hour first, and then tear my head off? I was having the loveliest dream."
She feels him shift to get more comfortable, and then feels something else entirely, pressing solidly against the base of her back. It must have been a very lovely dream indeed. Despite his comment about needing to wake up first, it appears there's a certain part of his anatomy that has no such troubles. Her t-shirt has ridden up a little, and where they've snuggled closer in the night, there's only the thinnest of layers separating their bodies. She can feel the hard length of him, the minute throbbing of his cock, nestled at the very cleft of her ass. In her brief outrage, she barely registered the firm pressure, but now she has felt it, the heat of her anger changes into something else entirely.
Clearly, he's still too sleepy to have noticed such a … well, such a large problem, but now it seems she's wide awake, and practically raring to go. It's embarrassing, and yet so goddamn erotic at the same time. She thinks of wishes and horses again, and then her filthy mind is full of thoughts of bucking, and rearing, and riding-
"Um … Jareth?" She hears her voice crack on the last syllable of his name; hears her own pounding heart as it threatens to break free of her chest.
" … shit."
She feels his weight shift behind her as he moves back as much as their position allows; the slightest brush of his knuckles against the small of her back, telling her he's palmed the head to keep it from grinding on her. Oh, god, he's holding his cock right behind her, and even though the reason is one of relative innocence, all at once her body is raring to see it. She has to fight not to turn around and jump him at once.
She should not be in bed, contemplating early morning kisses, and – let's be honest – at the very least, an enthusiastic handjob for the powerful and oh-so-plentiful king of the goblins. It's … undignified. After her prissy whining over their bathroom troubles the night before, could she really now dare to sully his most royal person in such a crude manner?
Oh, god, in a heartbeat, if he would only ask.
Jareth gives a small cough. "I am terribly sorry, love."
She isn't. She can't answer, her cheeks and dry throat on fire. After what feels like an eternity of lying there, thinking about things she most certainly should not be thinking about, he speaks up again.
"Ah, Sarah?"
"Yes?" she answers, a little too quickly.
" …I'm afraid it isn't going down."
She lets out the breath she's been holding in a far too audible burst. "What do you want me to do about it?" she snaps.
"You can stop pushing back against my hand, for a start."
Her eyes widen like those of a startled deer, and she finds herself glad all over that, if nothing else, he can't see her guilt. She takes a moment to assess her own body, and sure enough, her ass is pressed back firmly against the hand that's guarding his erection, her hips rolling seemingly of their own accord, just enough for them both to feel it. She stills at once.
"I can … probably explain that," she tells him, feeling her cheeks blaze with yet more heat. "Probably."
"Hmm. I'm all ears."
"Oh, I guess that was an ear shoved up against my ass, then?" she hisses.
"Well, if you keep on rubbing back against it like that, I'm quite willing to listen to anything." He shifts his hand then, and suddenly there's nothing between them but those oh-so-thin layers of their clothes.
"Oh, god," she moans.
He gives a soft chuckle. "Horny, are we? It's nothing to be ashamed of, love. As you can tell, I'm right here in the same boat with you."
Hearing that, as hot as she is right now, only makes her want to jump overboard. She swallows hard. "This whole 'sleeping together' thing was probably a bad idea."
"On the contrary. I think this could work out quite well for the both of us, if you're willing." The covers shift slightly, and then his free hand is resting lightly upon her hip - a tempting question. "You are willing, aren't you, pet?"
By some miracle, she finds she's still capable of speech. "Willing to do what, exactly?" she asks.
She can hear the smile in his voice. "Whatever you feel comfortable with, love. Just a little fun between good friends – something to take the edge off for both of us."
"Are you serious?" If he's joking now, she doesn't think she can stand it. She can't help pushing her hip just a little more firmly against the palm of his hand.
"Very. Unless the idea offends you, in which case-"
"No! No, I mean, I'm not offended," she tells him.
"That's a promising start."
He moves a little closer, and then the heat of him is pressing solidly against her ass again. She can hardly breathe. She feels the covers lift a little, and knows he's looking down between them, watching the way her body moulds to him. Her t-shirt has already ridden up a little more with their movements, and knowing there's only a tiny thong and a thin covering of silk between their bodies makes any rational thought difficult – knowing he's actually watching her ass as it welcomes his stiff cock makes it all but impossible. It only gets worse when she hears him growl.
"Good gods."
She has to agree, sending up a quick prayer to whatever forces have made this happen. The thought – the feel– of him thrust up against her this way is turning her on more than she ever dreamed possible. This can't be happening – the man she's wanted for so long can't be here in her bed, making her feel this way, arousing her this way. Somehow, she knows the heat of him is too real to be a dream. "Your wife is going to kill us both," she blurts out. Oh, Christ, where did that come from?
She can feel the rumble of his laughter against her back. "Only as much as your husband would, but seeing as we're talking of entirely imaginary characters, I'm certain the consequences won't be too dire." He grinds more firmly into the cleft of her ass, no question that he's rutting against her, now, thrusting his cock in slow, rhythmic strokes. "Unless it excites you to think of the added danger, of course, then I'd be happy to role-play," he adds, making her insides melt.
A soft moan escapes her as she starts to move with him. She has her answer now – no Goblin Queen to come between them – but it only raises more questions. Why, then, has he never made a move like this before? Why has it taken them sharing a bed to bring them to this? Is she just 'any other woman' to him right now – someone warm and willing to ease his frustrations? If that's the case, this is so very wrong. It's only going to break her heart to have him go back to his joking attempts at flirting after this, but damned if she can bring herself to stop. She's wanted him for such a long time, and now that she has him, even for a short time, there's no way she can turn him down.
"What do you want me to do, Sarah?" he inquires, against her hair. Oh, the way he breathes her name while he's turned on. "I'm here – I'm always here, if you need me. All you have to do is ask."
"I want you to touch me." The words tumble from her lips before she can stop them.
"Where?" he presses, and the hardness of him pushes all the more firmly against her.
"Anywhere – everywhere," she tells him, before doubt and worry can change her mind. It's the heat of the moment, and she's already burning. "Make me come," she whispers.
"Gladly."
She hears a moist sucking sound, and realises he's already wetting his fingers for her, before his hand curls around her hip again. He needn't have bothered – she's already soaked for him, a fact he notices the moment those long fingers dip inside her panties. His hips continue to move, grinding against her eager body as he starts to explore. She can't help but cry out his name as he touches her for the first time.
"Oh, Sarah." His groan is almost as loud as hers as he begins to stroke her. "This is what you've had waiting for me, hmm? Sopping wet, and hot enough to burn. You need this badly, don't you, love? I can't bear to leave a woman unfulfilled."
He tugs at her t-shirt, dragging the collar aside just enough for him to plant a hot kiss at the crook between her neck and shoulder. His mouth against her bare skin is enough to make her gasp, her hips bucking sharply for him. He moans into her neck, clutching at her as she grinds her ass back against him. His fingers play along her slick folds, rubbing and teasing, and when they press against her entrance, she accepts him easily. He curls two fingers inside her, all the way up to the knuckle, and she clenches around him, squeezing him in her heat. She thinks the strangled groan he utters against her shoulder just might be the sexiest sound in the world.
They soon find a rhythm together, rocking and writhing in her bed, fingering and thrusting. His fingers press deep, his thumb resting against her throbbing clit, giving her just the right pressure. His breath is warm, his lips only a whisper away from her neck, but when he runs his tongue along her bare skin, it's what finally undoes her. She buries her face in the pillow again as she comes, but the only thing suffocating her now is an almost unbearably powerful pleasure that reduces her body to helpless shivers. Through that bliss, she's vaguely aware of the way her inner muscles clamp down on him, pulsing around his fingers. In the end, she thinks that's what sends him over the edge too, a deep warmth spreading over silk and flesh as he shudders against her.
After a time, his hand slips out from her panties, curling around her stomach instead. They lie that way for a while as they recover together, and she can feel his wetness against her ass, the heavy breathing against her hair; the way his heart pounds against her back with as much force as her own hammers within her chest. The air smells of sex, and they haven't even gotten undressed. It wasn't sex, though a part of her wishes it had been. It was just a little fun between friends, like he said – fun that, if anything, has made their friendship even better. She hopes.
There are so many questions that need answering – the most pressing of which being if just any woman would have made him react the same way – but Jareth gives such a satisfied sigh against her neck, and the weight of his arm is just so soothing as it lies across her hip, that in the end, she cannot ask them. The warmth against her back increases as he moves in even closer, thrilling her when he presses another soft kiss to the nape of her neck.
"Good morning," he says again, and she can hear his smile.
She can't help but smile with him. How many times has she wished she could hear those words from him – a wish so secret she's never dared to make it? A warm wave of the deepest contentment steals over her, and she realises that her eyelids are drifting closed again. "We … we're gonna have to talk about this, aren't we?" she asks, with lazy reluctance.
"Mmm. Eventually. And figure out some way around your objection to magic, so we can manage a decent shower this time."
"Together?"
"Mmm. Don't tempt me."
She stifles a yawn. "But not now?"
"Plenty of time for it later. It's still very early, and it's not like I'm going anywhere any time soon."
Snuggling back into his warmth, she knows he's right.
A/N: Thanks for your patience while I transfer the rest of the chapters over. I've tried to catch any formatting errors with page breaks/italics/spacing but apologies if the odd one manages to slip through