There's something to be said about being kissed awake in the morning.
There's even more to be said about being rolled onto a warm, firm chest, then being kissed awake in the morning.
She's barely opened her eyes, and already soft lips are in the act of worshipping her cheeks, her chin, brushing across her jawline. He's smiling, his eyes are intent on hers, and when she finally gains enough sense to return his smile, he leans up to take her mouth. She can't help the sleepy grin that steals over her lips as she gives in, nor the heat that's quick to bloom inside her as she responds.
Jareth is polite enough to pull back for a brief "Good morning, love," before his mouth is on hers again. His hands make an even more brief acquaintance with her hips, before moving further south to give their introductions elsewhere. He squeezes her, rocks her so that she can feel the hard length of him, pressed hot and heavy between their bodies, seeking out her moist core as it grinds against her. From the pale light in the room, dawn is only a thin whisper past, but evidently someone is up and all too eager to greet the day.
Sarah has a moment's gleeful hope that she might be just the thing to permanently cure him of his morning grumps, before she shoves the idea aside. No future, she tells herself, and then, because that hurts too much, no thoughts about the future. That's a little better, and thankfully enough for her to focus her energy on the succulent specimen of manhood beneath her.
She wriggles atop him until he's at just the right angle, causing them both to groan as he strokes along her wet heat to nudge at her clit. She pulls back from their kiss to gasp a little, and Jareth promptly turns his attention to her exposed neck, suckling and nibbling until she's moaning openly, grinding her hips down into his. He encourages her with a soft moan and a little smack to her ass. Insatiable. The man is an incredible fuck, and he's absolutely insatiable. She thinks that if she looked up the word in her battered dictionary, there would simply be a picture of him there – no doubt caught in the act of trying to slip his throbbing cock into something. She can only be grateful that something is currently her.
There's a moment where she wonders if all the pleasure of the past few days has made her start to lose her mind, but then Jareth is tugging at her earlobe with his teeth, and it's far too difficult to go on wondering.
It's a long, slow fuck that morning, with the real heat and speed only building right at the end when their need becomes too much. In the meantime, it gives her a long while to study him as he lies beneath her, memorising the little gasps and groans he gives, the way his lips twist in pleasure, his eyes bright as he watches her riding him. There's a deep satisfaction in those eyes, and for the first time in a long time, there's no awkwardness as she stares deep in to them.
There's a strange sort of purity here, an acceptance that washes through her alongside the growing warmth as her orgasm approaches. If this is all she can have, if this is all he can ever offer her – pleasure, and the desire to please – can she let it be enough? Does she really need love, when she can have him instead? She starts to move a little faster, aware of that feeling of perfection as he strokes her, fills her, aware of the way his blue eyes remain fixed on hers, even when her breasts bounce freely from their exertions. Breathing hard, arching into her, his hands clenched around her hips as they move together, he finally speaks again.
"You're so beautiful when you're about to come, love. So beautiful when you're coming for me."
His words move something within her, and her head tips back in surrender, crying out to the ceiling as her climax tears through her. He holds on a moment longer, no doubt watching her ecstasy just before he finds his own release deep inside her. He feels so right, buried deep inside her. It's enough, she thinks, enough for now, because that sense of 'now' is all she can allow herself to have. Now, they come down together, bodies heaving in unison, and he cradles her to his chest as their breathing starts to even out.
There's a lot to be said for being kissed back to sleep, too, the feeling of warm lips against her hair, their bodies still joined as she dozes off again in the circle of his arms.
The time passes quickly, but well. Through some miracle – not to mention Molly's tireless and downright impressive efforts at covering her ass at the office – she manages to get enough work done from home for her continuing absence not to be questioned too hard. In her apartment, the comfort of their daily routine is surprising, given the ever-present chain. In the afternoons, Jareth occupies himself quietly with replying to his many messages, quills and parchments sharing desk space with her computer as she presses on with her own tasks.
She makes no more wishes for freedom, not while she's busy, buried as ever in the pages of someone else's love life. Somehow, she tuts and eye-rolls her way through a disappointing attempt at romance. In the manuscript, the handsome heartthrob is stinking rich, but his approach is as forceful and clumsy as Richard's was, his pawing attempts at sex making up for his lack of finesse with outright speed. Still, the heroine inevitably falls for the flashy car and the yacht and the fancy wedding, and Sarah chokes down bile long enough to remind herself she's getting paid for this. Meanwhile, her own little foray into domestic bliss seems to go on better than ever.
It's hard to remain tense and worried around someone who seems to know her almost as well as she knows herself, their conversations relaxed once more, dragging up silly memories from their shared past. Of course, it's impossible to forget entirely that her foolish wish is what's keeping him here, but Jareth genuinely doesn't seem to care. He kisses her thoroughly and often, as if he'll never tire of her mouth, doing it just for the sake of kissing her these days, and with no pretence at hiding his longing.
His morning magical assistance lessens somewhat, when the two of them discover that good old mortal bathing routines are much more fun when there's two people involved. He takes great care in soaping up her breasts and stroking beneath the damp curls between her legs, until her breathless cries ring loud and lustful off the tiles. He has a delightful habit of bringing her to a quick climax before having her, hard and soaking wet against the shower wall, where he'll prolong his own pleasure until she's ready to come for him again. She can't help noticing he takes even greater care in massaging her scalp as he washes her hair, urging her head back to relax against his chest as he takes care of her.
They share the cooking, and she's keen to show him her own skills aren't lacking. She treats him one evening, enjoying the way his hands bestow casual little touches to her shoulders and hips as she whips together a rich dessert that's sure to please his sweet tooth. She loves the way his lips purse around a mouthful of the peach cream pie she's made, loves the way his eyes drift closed in pleasure. Even better is the way those eyes widen again as she kneels before him, adding to his bliss by taking him inside her mouth as he eats.
They feed off one another, their time together warm and nourishing for the soul, peaceful and undeniably good. Still, as with all good things, she knows it must come to an end.
There's a little niggle sometimes when she sees just how many letters he has to deal with – a constant reminder that there's something big happening in his realm right now. She finally gains the courage to ask about it when they're tangled in her bed one night together, his essence still damp on her thighs.
"Is Gaelan handling all the planning okay?"
"I should think so, pet, now that the castle's set to rights again, and those miserable little worms are returned to the Goblin City. It'll be much easier for him to deal with a castle full of welcome guests, than that ungrateful rabble."
She runs a finger down the middle of his chest, as if drawing a path for her own thoughts. "Shouldn't you be there? I mean, you're their king. They'll expect you to greet them."
Jareth's voice is a soothing rumble against her hair. "Yes, but what's expected of me and what I choose to do are two entirely different things."
"That's just it – you're not choosing. You're only here because of me."
He kisses her forehead. "I do wish you wouldn't start this again. Things are … the way they are."
"Yes, because of me." She lifts her head, looking up at him and speaking before he can start to soothe her again. "Be honest with me – this thing you've been planning, it's some big event, isn't it? Not something a king would normally miss out on. You should be there."
After only a brief hesitation, he grants her a nod. "Mabon is the autumnal equinox, love. It's one of the biggest gatherings of the year. Feasting, dancing, giving thanks for the blessings bestowed upon us." He gives the gentlest of sighs, and she can hear the longing in it. "The night itself, I host one of the biggest balls of the year. It's a wonderful celebration. At any other time, it's something I'd love to be able to show to you."
"Why not now? You said you weren't ashamed to be seen chained to me."
He gives a small lift of his mouth. "Perhaps not, in casual circumstances, but it's hardly proper to parade you before my guests as some sort of slave I've chosen to drag along."
She raises up on her elbow, staring down at him, searching his face. "You're ashamed to have me there, aren't you? A silly little mortal girl in front of all your subjects, just like back then."
Jareth rolls his eyes. "Sarah, if you'll recall, back then I had no qualms about dancing with you before anyone who would look upon us. No, there are things at play here that you don't understand. Perhaps if our sexual union had broken the chain-"
"Which it still hasn't," she grumbles.
"No, though we could experiment further, if you like," he says, beginning to smirk. "A different time of day, a different position …" His grin grows positively lewd. "A different entrance, perhaps."
A little flutter passes through her stomach, her cheeks aflame with embarrassment and a surprising amount of lust. She turns away onto her side before he can see it. "Oh, yeah, that'd just be the perfect fairytale ending," she snaps.
His arm slides around her from behind, drawing her body close. "I'm only teasing, love." He presses a kiss to her hair, and another to the nape of her neck, making her skin prickle with heat. "Although," he continues, his voice taking on a lower register, "I wouldn't put it past some of your storybook heroines. Witches and wicked stepmothers locking them away in towers, hopelessly repressed and denied any pleasures of the flesh for all those years …"
He starts to apply a little of that pleasure himself now, stroking along her bare stomach, hip and thigh as he goes on. "So very, desperately lonely, with just their dreams of rescue and their busy little fingers for company. They're all alone, and just getting more desperate, panting … wetter … waiting for the brave, virile hero to finally whisk them away from it all … and when he does, when all that delicious sexual frustration gets to come out to play … to go wild …" His lips tickle her earlobe, and his warm whisper is sin itself. "Well, I can imagine they'd love it up the arse."
She can't help the little groan that leaves her mouth. "You're awful."
Jareth chuckles. "Oh, you love me."
She shifts back to look at him a lot quicker than she intends. "Why did you say that?"
His eyebrows lift a little, his eyes unreadable. "Just a joke, Sarah," he says, quieter now, before he risks a small smile. "No more mocking the damsels in distress – I get it."
Clearly, he doesn't get it, but she can't very well tell him that. His casual, throwaway mention of love clutters up her already messy head, and it takes her a moment to even remember to return his smile. If he notices something wrong, he gives no sign. He's waiting for her to respond, and she tries to think of something light-hearted to improve the mood, but then her heart gives a sudden lurch, and she shoots him an incredulous stare. "Is the only reason you're in bed with me at every available opportunity just an escape attempt? Is trying to break the chain the only reason you … we …?"
He raises an eyebrow. "Well, not the only reason. It's been mutually pleasurable, after all, but it doesn't hurt to try it."
It's impossible for him to realise just how much that does hurt her. It's just sex – she's been telling herself it's just sex for days, now, but for him to just come right out and say it seems unthinkable. "You're unbelievable," she whispers, dropping her gaze to his chest, unable to go on looking into those eyes she's come to need so much.
"Come now, you can't tell me the same thought hadn't crossed your mind. Attached … sex … you would have tried anything to get rid of me. You were quite vocal about wanting me gone, at least at first." He runs a knuckle under her chin, tilting her head up towards him again as he smiles, soothing the blow. "It's been a lot of fun for both of us, love, hasn't it? You can't deny that."
Perhaps it has, but she knows deep down, sex or no, she's already as attached as these things can go. It's great, but it isn't enough. It isn't enough. Oh, god. Deep breaths, Sarah. In. Out. In again. Oh, fuck him for being this way. Out again. Great. Fun. Fun is all he wants. She can do fun. "So why not have a little extra fun by going to the ball?" she asks.
"Sarah, I already told you-"
She fixes her eyes firmly on his, giving away nothing. "We've known each other for years. It's stupid for us to be embarrassed when it means missing one of the biggest events of the year. We're friends, aren't we? Give me one good reason why we can't just go and have a lovely evening together."
They look at one another for a long time, but it's he who drops his gaze first. "I can't. I can't give you a reason."
She takes his defeat with a small smile. "Then let's just do it. Two friends, stuck together indefinitely, just looking for a good time."
When Jareth finally meets her eyes again, he returns her smile, but it's still a little uncertain. "All right, you win. You've got yourself an invite. We will … we'll have a good time. As friends. I'll speak to Gaelan in the morning, make the proper arrangements." His smile grows more confident, widening as his gaze moves lower, taking in the darkened peaks of her nipples in the cool air. He traces one with a light fingertip, causing her breath to catch in her throat. His eyes flicker with heat as he hears it, his finger quick to repeat the motion. "And … in the meantime, would you be opposed to having a different sort of 'good time' right now?"
In spite of all her reservations, the warning bells that tell her she's only making things worse, she most certainly wouldn't.