"Sarah."
Jareth's low, rich voice draws her slowly back to reality, but still she clings onto the last remnants of sleep and those most wonderful dreams, embracing that solid, comforting warmth only he's capable of emitting.
"Sarah."
Her name comes again, louder, and then there's a warm hand sliding up beneath her t-shirt, doing its best to rouse her. Light fingernails scratch at the sensitive plane of her bare stomach, sensuous and ticklish, sending small but sure ripples of pleasure through her tender flesh. She moans softly, shivering with his caress and stretching her body just enough to urge his fingers lower. She's smiling before her eyes have even fully opened, wondering what pleasures he has in store for her this time.
"Jareth," she replies at last, arching back against him, seeking the hardness that she craves, only to find that this time, it isn't there.
"Oh, good, you are awake." The hand upon her belly withdraws, taking her lazy smile along with it. "We'd best get up, love. It's getting towards midday, and you said you wanted to find a way out of this mess."
"I did, didn't I?" She can hardly keep the disappointment from her voice, but there's no way she can tell him any different now. She pushes back the covers, and it lets the coldness into her heart again.
They clean up, dress, and eat a subdued brunch that she finds she can't muster much of an appetite for.
It hurts more than she could have anticipated to find that they're back into that routine again – the one where she feels like she's nothing more than a burden on him. Outside of her bed, outside of the heat of their lust, the man chained to her seems as aloof and unattainable as the king she first met, driving her to a madness she can't express, trapped and tangled with him as she remains. He's touched her more intimately than anyone has in months, brought her to ecstatic new heights with his skilled hands and clever mouth, but she's painfully aware of the fact that he hasn't even tried to kiss her on the lips – not outside of that little show they put on for Richard's benefit. She's craving romance more than anything, but all the Goblin King seems to crave is what lies between her thighs; satisfaction – a diversion, until they're free of one another once more.
As foolish as it may be, she can't help feeling she should mean more to him after all these years – must be more than just a casual fling to him, given all the time he's dedicated to making her happy. The man who's sharing her apartment now seems hardly the same as the one she's come to know; he's indifferent to their closeness – distant, almost, apart from when he's flirting with her, tempting her, seducing her.
It's only in that time that comes after the fun, when she's lying smiling and satisfied in his arms, that she gets a glimpse of the man she's grown to care for so deeply. That man has been with her nearly half her life, guiding her, comforting her through the bad times, smiling his small, irritating, endearing smirk through the good. When that man nuzzles at her neck and pets her hair, it grants every private wish she's never dared give voice to at once. If only she could manage to keep his interest – his affection – outside of the bedroom. Sadly, whatever small hope she has of actual love between them is fading almost as quickly as the hopes of them ever being free from each other.
"Is everything all right, love?" her ever-present companion asks, breaking into her thoughts, the term of affection not quite breaking her heart. "Only, you seem quieter than usual."
"I'm fine," she insists. "Just trying to think of an escape … and it's hard to think when I'm stuck with someone always at my side, always interrupting." She regrets the harshness of it as soon as it leaves her mouth, and thinks unhappily about taking it back.
Jareth remains apparently unphased by her words. "By all means, pet, think away." With a twist of his fingers, he conjures a black silk sleep mask, and slips it over his eyes. "No more interruptions. Just call me if you need me."
As she watches, he settles back on the couch that has become their base of operations, apparently prepared to rest the afternoon away while she struggles with her own thoughts. There's a stab of anger at him for being so blasé about all this, and a colder, deeper pang that says, You have no idea how much I need you.
Eventually, she grows tired of her own mind's endless doubt and despair, and she makes a renewed effort to think of a way out of this whole mess. Alarmed at how she's almost out of ideas already, she finally rouses him to ask a favour. If he's been sleeping at all under that mask, he regains his wits quickly enough when she gives his shoulder a hesitant tap, granting her request with a nod. He conjures a small tub of Vaseline without even asking what it's for, without even removing his mask, so she's at least spared the suggestive spark in his eyes. There's no hiding the smirk on his lips, though, and she has to fight the wild urge to kiss it away. At least with the Vaseline, her intentions are innocent.
Despite her best efforts, the greasy goop she slathers across her wrist brings her no closer to being able to slip free from her golden cuff. As much as she strains, and huffs and groans her disappointment, she can't say she's surprised. There's apparently no escaping it – no way out of this self-inflicted hell she's stuck in. Despair rears its head again, alongside the cabin fever brought on by being cooped up within the same four walls of her apartment all this time. Before it can take full hold, setting off the tears that have been threatening all afternoon, she asks the Goblin King if he'd like to go for a walk.
For someone who's supposedly been resting, Jareth is surprisingly agreeable to the idea. He makes himself presentable for the mortal world once more, as delectable as he is distressing to her willpower in dark, tightly-tailored jeans and a pale grey cashmere sweater. Almost as worrying is the long black peacoat he wills himself into, the masculine twin to her own cream one; the dark to her light. She tries not to dwell on that too much as they head outdoors, making certain first that their long sleeves cover their binds. Their short chain doesn't allow for much distance between them, and so he takes her hand in his, his fingers entwined with her own as they walk side by side.
She tries not to dwell on that too much either.
Without really knowing where they're heading, she takes him on a wooded path through the park nearby, his long strides slowing to accommodate her own shorter steps as fallen leaves crunch beneath their feet. It's lovely here, and pretty quiet given the time of day, and the two of them even manage to find something harmless to talk about. He tells her it's approaching Winter right now in his realm, too, the towns and fields of his kingdom soon to be dusted white with snow and frost, and it's refreshing for him to see a little colour before it comes. The yellows and oranges and reds of the leaves here are pretty, but she can only imagine just how the stones and trees of his labyrinth will look, how they'll sparkle, their icy coating reflecting the Underground's strange orange sky.
They're passed by a single jogger, and see only one other couple in the park, who are holding hands themselves and walking a tiny puppy between them. The couple are talking between themselves, and the man seems entirely lost in his lover's words and eyes, but the woman finds time to shoot Sarah the shared smile of the young and in love. The smile Sarah gives in return feels false the moment it touches her mouth. She and Jareth don't speak much after that, that small peaceful pleasure between them broken once more.
The late afternoon sunshine and cool Fall breeze go a little way toward soothing her frazzled nerves, but she can't relax, not with her jumbled thoughts tumbling about her muddled head. Between worrying about being caught playing hooky from work, and the hypocrisy of Jareth holding her hand with things so strained between them, she asks to head back home soon after.
Curled up on her couch again, she finds she has even less to say to him, and hardly any appetite for the pizza they've ordered. Even the novelty of finding out what the Goblin King's favourite toppings are wears off after a while. She picks listlessly at the meal, plucking olives out of the hot cheese, and tucking them into her mouth without much relish. As they eat in silence, they're both clearly aware of the tension between them, but damned if she's going to be the one who speaks first.
Finally, it's Jareth who gives in, abandoning the last of his food and snatching up a paper napkin to wipe his hands clean. "I'm sorry to see I've brought you down so much, love," he says, in a soft voice. He sounds genuinely sad, and it's even more of a burden on her heart.
"It isn't you," she tells him, though both of them know that isn't really true. "It's just … I feel like we're never going to be free, no matter what we do."
"I'm afraid I can't help you with that, Sarah. It's your wish, after all, and until you figure it out …"
She takes her time replying, her restless hands starting to tear her used napkin into small, even strips as she ponders. "What if I never figure it out?" she asks him, nervous of what his reply will be. "What if we're stuck this way for weeks, months, or even – oh, god – even years?"
"I hardly think it'll come to that – you're an intelligent woman, and I've every confidence you'll figure it out eventually. And even if for whatever reason you don't, I can think of worse ways to while away a year or two." At her sharp look, he nods his head to show he's actually being sincere. "I've been visiting you for thirteen or so years now, and I've never once complained."
She rolls her eyes, crumpling the paper strips she's made into a ball. "Yeah, but they've only been short visits." Way too short. "You've never had to actually live with me."
He laughs gently. "Nor you with me. I can imagine even my appeal might wear off, after a time." He looks at her for a long while, and he's smiling throughout it. "If it's any reassurance at all, love, I can't think of anyone I'd rather be stuck with."
She smiles back, but finds, in the new shyness that causes, she can't quite meet his eyes. "You mean that?"
"Of course." The simplicity with which he says it makes her heart flutter, her smile widening as she finally brings herself to look at him again. His grin grows alongside hers as he adds: "Besides, I'm sure we can find some interesting ways to pass the time."
Though his hands are clean, he manages to find something to lick off the tip of one finger, his eyes fixed on hers all the while as his tongue slowly and suggestively traces the digit. He's still watching for her reaction as he slides his finger into his mouth, his cheeks hollowing as he starts to suck.
"Stop that right now," she warns him, trying to frown and failing.
He releases the finger with a grin. "Stop what exactly, precious? I'm afraid you'll have to be more specific, and go into explicit, vulgar detail."
They're back on that topic again, and it's at least safer than her own self-doubt. Even though a part of her wonders just how long it'll take for a gorgeous and mysterious fae to get bored of fooling around with the same human, she has to laugh. Flirting is what the two of them have always done best, and it's obvious he's trying to draw her out of the funk she's gotten herself into. "We can't spend the whole time in bed, Jareth," she tells him.
He smirks. "Who said anything about bed? There are other places, and lots of them."
"You're the worst."
To his credit, the Goblin King does his best to look suitably wounded. "I most certainly am not. At least you didn't seem to think so when you experienced me this morning. Alas, how quickly I seem to have fallen in your esteem. Give your blushing pilgrim another chance, fair maiden, and I'll take great pleasure in convincing you again."
She snorts her scorn at that last. "You're no blushing pilgrim, any more than I'm still a maiden."
"Maybe not, but we'd have a lot more fun if you humoured me. You'll find I'm rather good at role-play, if the need calls, pet."
She chuckles, affecting a swooning, mock-Shakespearian accent of her own. "And what, pray tell, would happen to your great kingdom, good sir? The entire realm will surely wonder why their noble king should waste his time in trying to part an unworthy mortal woman's thighs."
Jareth grins. "I think my citizens have their own sex lives to care about more than mine, but I do like where we're headed – between your lovely thighs."
"Keep dreaming, Goblin King," she laughs, falling back into her regular voice. "You're seriously willing to step back and let anarchy reign, all for some fun?" she asks. "I don't buy that. Your kingdom would go to hell without you there to rule it."
"Then I guess you'd just have to come back and rule it with me." There's a long beat of silence where Sarah's heart starts to hammer wildly, before he adds: "Either that, or we focus on your career, and every day becomes 'take Jareth to work day' for you. Equal opportunities, and all that."
She laughs far too quickly, and too loudly at that, wincing in the crushing silence that follows. She's terrified that, for a split second, he must have seen the naked hope in her eyes, the rest of his joke falling flat as he tried to spare her feelings. The consideration only makes it worse, and he doesn't even have the decency to disappear for a while so she can bury her face in her hands and moan.
"Or," he continues, his voice a little strained in the silence, "we can pass the time another way, and not bother working at all. The offer still stands – let me spend tonight making up for this morning's apparently dreadful performance." A trace of his teasing grin emerges, and it coaxes a small smile of her own as he goes on. "If I'm as awful as you say, and if you were faking, I'd love to know just how loudly you'll scream for the real thing, not to mention how good you'll taste. Did I mention just how lovely you taste, precious?"
She shakes her head, fighting her blushes. "You didn't, and you won't– not tonight, anyway. I have to figure out a way to bring some work home tomorrow, and I'll need to do my thinking on a full night's sleep."
That bit of awkwardness now behind them, Jareth makes a show of rolling his eyes, giving her a look of disappointment she knows isn't entirely put on. "Spoilsport."
"Sore loser," she shoots back.
"Such a cruel mistress."
"Such a persistent ass."
"Cold, vile temptress," he replies, his strange eyes narrowing.
"Smug, arrogant king, who's in danger of being overthrown if he carries on," she tells him, and revels in his darkening glare as she turns away.
She thinks she's won that little argument, grinning and feeling her chest swell fit to burst with satisfaction as she starts to gather up boxes and napkins. Then, he slides in closer behind her on the couch, pushing her hair aside, his chest firmly pressed to her back, his lips moist and hot against her left earlobe as he whispers: "Impudent, treasonous little cocktease, who's in serious danger of being fucked senseless."
There's no response in the world to that, not with her insides melting and puddling between her ankles.
When her heart has slowed a little, they finally go to bed, and she still hasn't thought of a suitable comeback.
When her smug, arrogant king moves in to spoon her, after wishing her a far too pleasant 'goodnight', she can practically feel his self-satisfied smirk against her hair.