Her eyes roll back in her head. It's a position she's never thought to try before, but the response it's getting is definitely the desired one. She stares up at her bedroom ceiling, her chained hand clenching the sheets tightly, her head hanging backwards off the edge of the bed. She voices another low groan, pulling the phone a little closer to her mouth so she's heard.
"I think it's just a head-cold," she lies, the angle of her head putting pressure on her sinuses and adding a layer of truth to her words. "I'm just so stuffed up I can't think straight. Plus, I don't want to come in and infect everyone."
That does the trick. Her boss hates getting sick with a passion. Sarah sighs and sniffles her way through the rest of their conversation, promising to come in and pick up some stuff to work from home with if the infection drags on much longer. Given the way the man who's plaguing her is stretched out so leisurely across her bed, with no sign of leaving, she can't help but think it's going to be a long 'illness'.
When she hangs up the phone, shifting into a position that's easier on her neck, she sees that her companion has already gotten himself comfortable enough for the both of them.
"Good. Now that's settled …" Jareth lets the words hang between them, and she thinks his smile grows just a tad wider when he sees how it makes her blush.
Predictably, they woke to another 'large' problem that morning – one she was loathe to ignore, feeling the heat of him pressed up against her, but still somehow managed to stave off long enough to call work. Now, she realises that it hasn't gone away. His free hand is buried beneath the covers, and she has the sneaking suspicion that has a lot to do with it. From the gentle rise and fall of the comforter, there's no question of what he's doing under there.
She feels a hot little thrill at the thought of him touching himself just enough to keep his level of interest up, so to speak. Inwardly, she's all but dancing with excitement, but she tries to frown at him, instead of just succumbing at once. A little token resistance is definitely called for, especially if she doesn't want to seem too eager, right?
Oh, but it's so hard to resist when every square inch of his chest and flat stomach are on show – something she's positive he intended, pale and perfect and goddamn infuriatingas he is. Her hungry eyes take in the small pink tips of his nipples, raking down over his smooth chest with pure lust. Her gaze trails down over his belly, pausing to dip into the cup of his navel, and then following the thin trail of hair leading down from it, darkening as it disappears beneath the bedsheets. Under them, she knows there's only a thin scrap of silk to cover him – to cover the hardness that she knows is just waiting for her.
"Enjoying the view, precious?" Her eyes snap back to his face quickly enough to catch his knowing grin, seeing the way he gives her own half of the covers a suggestive leer. "A pity you're not granting me the same."
Being caught staring only puts her on the defensive. "You wish."
His smile widens. "I'm quite certain my wishes would take us to far sweeter scenarios, pet, but we're still dealing with the fallout from yours, now aren't we?"
"As if I don't feel bad enough about it."
He gives a little tug on their chain, and it's strangely almost like flirting. "Then why not let me make you feel good?"
Woah, Sarah. Down, girl.They say you should never look a gift horse in the mouth, but she can't help asking: "Why are you so … receptive, all of a sudden? You've never shown any real interest in me before." The words sound pathetic and needy the moment they emerge, and she's desperate to take them back, particularly when he stops stroking himself.
"My apologies. I never meant to push you, love. Consider the offer withdrawn."
She starts back-pedalling at once. "No, it's not that I don't want to – I do want to – it's just …" A sigh escapes her. "This probably isn't a good idea."
Jareth cocks an eyebrow. "Give me one reason why."
Damned if she can think of a single one. She looks at him – looks at the way his hand is resting motionless beneath the covers, knowing just what it's hiding as she quickly looks away – and can't think of a single reason not to take advantage of the situation, and damn whatever consequences might come later. Still, she hesitates, and when she doesn't answer, he takes it for reluctance.
"We don't have to do anything if you don't want to, pet."
"I told you, it isn't that I don't want to," she mutters. God, she wants to.
Jareth nods. "Even so. The decision, as always, is entirely in your hands. I told you once I would be your slave, Sarah – I hope you haven't forgotten that. Your every wish is my command."
Oh, and how can she possibly think straight when he says things like that? She covers her face with her free hand. "Right now, I just wish you'd shut up."
At once, there's silence in the room … all except for the soft shift of the covers. When she uncovers her face, she sees that his hand has started up a slow, cautious rhythm again, keeping his desire burning just in case. They're both turned on, and it isn't going away – he isn't going away – so why not just give in? After all, she knows by now just how sweet a surrender it would be. A strangled groan escapes her throat, and, without looking at him, she lets her own hand dip beneath the covers too.
Shame and desire bathe her heated skin in equal parts as her fingers brush the front of her panties, giving in to that lust she feels, giving herself only a taste of what her body needs. Even through the material, she can feel just how wet she is. Her cheeks continue to flame as she rubs herself through her panties, and she absolutely won't look at him as it starts to feel good. Soon, she needs more, and when her fingers slip inside her underwear, she knows he can hear the moist sounds of her arousal. She whimpers softly, staring resolutely up at the ceiling as she starts to stroke herself in earnest.
There are no words between them, silence as she requested, but she sees out of the corner of her eye that his hand is moving faster now, some unspoken agreement between them that it's okay to give in to the urge. Her breathing grows laboured, her hips starting to move to meet her hand, arching and starting to pant a little, needing more.
Somewhere along the line, she forgets to keep on looking up at the ceiling, finding his eyes instead, finding that he's already looking back at her. He's been watching her all along, and the knowledge makes her cold and oh, so very hot all over. They don't say a word, but somehow they've traded places, his fingers buried inside her wet heat again, her own hand wrapped solidly around his cock. He's huge, and so fucking hard as he throbs against her palm, setting her pulsing in kind around his long fingers, but still she needs more. She has to see him – all of him.
He doesn't speak when she finally pulls back the covers to expose him, but he does moan as, after only a moment of admiring him, she bends to take him inside her mouth. Her lips and tongue draw more hot, sensual sounds from him, licking and sucking, but still she needs more from him. His throaty cry of pleasure as he comes is pure music, sounding loud and lustful in her ears, the taste of him warm on her tongue as she takes all he has to offer. It's finally enough, and she's all but shaking with her own pleasure, just knowing that she alone is responsible for the ecstasy she sees in his mismatched eyes.
Still, he gives her more. He's still breathing hard from his climax when he urges her onto her back, the release he's found doing nothing to detract from his hunger as he peels her panties away and presses his mouth against her dripping wet pussy. His hot tongue reduces her to helpless shivers at once, moaning loud curses, his name, high-pitched inarticulate cries of sheer bliss. She's at the very edge when he gives a low groan against her slick flesh, his voice ragged with lust, his lips brushing over her sensitive skin as he speaks.
"Come for me, love. Come all over my face."
When he pushes against her again, nose and lips and chin, her body is helpless but to obey. His voice brings her to the most powerful orgasm she can ever remember having, and it reduces her to shuddering sobs, her hips arching up off the bed so violently that he has to hold her down as he goes on licking her all the way through it.
Later, blushing, she will think that most of her apartment building must have learned the Goblin King's name that morning.
For now, the two of them only want to rest. Spent and wet, they turn so that she's lying on her side again, and there's no hesitation as he spoons her properly this time, both of them still bare below the waist. She can't help but think just how well their bodies fit together, warm and sated as they are, memorising how satisfying the feel of him against her really is. He strokes her hair as the morning sunlight filters through her bedroom curtains, soothing her, a gentleman, even if he isn't a boyfriend. He's certainly something, though – a whole lot of something – and she grins, remembering the filthy words that had sent her over the edge.
"I thought I wished for you to shut up," she scolds him, biting back the mad urge to giggle.
She feels his low laughter against her back more than she hears it, and damn the man if he doesn't lean in to chastise her too, his teeth nipping lightly at her shoulder through her t-shirt. "I can't always obey you, Sarah, love, otherwise you'd become far too complacent. There's a certain satisfaction in keeping you on your toes … or at least making them curl."
"I seem to remember I wasn't the only one whose toes were curling, Jareth."
"Mmm. Perhaps you weren't. I suggest you close that lovely mouth and go back to sleep, or we might have to do it again to check."
That makes her grin outright, cuddling back more firmly against him. "We're never going to break free of this thing if we keep sleeping in 'til almost noon."
He presses a lazy little kiss against the lock of her hair he's been toying with, before letting it lie against her cheek once more. "Heartbroken. Truly, utterly devastated by the fact," he proclaims, as his arm slips around her waist instead. "Need to sleep the pain away."
She snorts. "You're so full of shit."
"Do shut up, pet, or I promise you'll be full of my tongue again – and I always keep my promises."
The warmth of his body curls around her, leaving her with little room, nor desire to protest. The prospect of being licked into submission once more makes for some very interesting dreams indeed.