Her body is still spread open upon his cock, but somehow his words take root far deeper inside her, confirming everything she already knows. 'Jared Roberts' is no more than a mask he has worn in this realm the past few years, just to bring him closer to her. He is her hidden dream and her nightmare from all those years ago – the one who tempted her with magic and madness. He's been so long sheathed away in her mind, and now, finally, within her body. That in itself is undeniable proof that the power he has always wielded over her has in no way been diminished by time – for, truly, did either of them ever believe her denial? He has simply been waiting, all this time, until she grew just desperate enough to accept it.
There's a brief moment when she realises just how much she has missed the sound of his voice; a little longer before she remembers she's supposed to hate him - this man who has spent most of her adult life just waiting to wish her away again.
He waits, even now, for her response.
"How long?" she finally asks. "How long have you been following me … been plotting this?" Her body is still filled by him – satisfyingly so, she has to admit – and throbbing, and wet from their sex, but she can't help thinking how deep this casual fuck must really run. How much it will cost her.
He laughs, and the feel of it, resounding through her body and pulsing deep inside her, is near enough to send her mad. "And here I thought you'd missed me. It took far less time than I expected to have you this way, so forgive me for assuming – unless, of course, you're in the habit of offering yourself so willingly to just anyone who asks?"
Whatever retort she might have thought of is pushed rudely from her mind as, with no warning, he withdraws. She moans at the way her body still grips at his deflating cock as it pulls from her, her inner muscles squeezing tight, as if trying to hold him in. It feels like her whole body is in mourning for that loss of fullness, and, as he steps away from her, the warmth of him against her back.
She recovers enough to turn around, in time to see the unhurried way he tucks his cock back inside his trousers. Her mind takes brief, gleeful ownership of that sight before she can stop it – hitting home the knowledge that she has caused the great Goblin King to come undone in such a way, leaving him sated and spent, and covered with her honey. More hot fluid spreads along her inner thighs, and she can no longer tell if it is his, or her own.
There's humour in his eyes, but not enough to hide the way he devours the sight of her – open-shirted, skirt still hiked high; soaked with the aftermath of their sex. His throat rises and falls as he swallows, his tongue flirting a path along the inside of his lips before he speaks again. "As lovely as you are to look at right now, perhaps you'd like to straighten up a bit before we have our little talk?" he suggests, as charming and as helpful as ever, he is, the man who once told her to turn back before it was too late. "There's a private bathroom, just there to your left. You should find it adequate."
She can think of no suitable reply.
Adequate is an understatement. Whether it's just part of the particularly luxurious scenery around these parts, or he's conjured it through some magic just to accommodate her, the bathroom is small, but far more elegant than anything she's used to. There's a clear glass shower cubicle that's big enough for two, and its stream is powerful with the potential to be almost scaldingly hot, showing her where her own apartment's cramped bathroom has been lacking all this time. She's content just to stand under the spray for a long time, letting it massage her scalp and shoulders. She realises that he could quite easily walk in, and watch her this way through the glass, but just as quickly realises she doesn't care. He's seen the way she comes so easily for him; has seen inside her mind, and that's far more intimate a view.
When she gathers the will to cleanse herself, she finds she's adrift in a sea of products: an array of bodywashes, scrubs, shampoos and conditioners, along with various lotions, creams and butters, all of which look and feel like they fall far beyond her own modest budget. She samples them one by one, and though there's a fair selection of distinctly male products amongst them, catering for his vanity, the vast majority give off subtle and sumptuous feminine scents, clearly aimed towards her. She won't allow herself to think on that for too long. It tells her far too much of how well he's planned this.
He needn't have bothered – anything more luxurious than simple drug-store shower gels and cosmetics is wasted on her. She doesn't know how to react to more expensive products – has no basis for comparison – and so she chooses by smell alone, drawn towards hints of peppermint and deep, rich cocoa that feel impossibly lush against her hair and skin.
The towel she uses afterward is, of course, the finest Egyptian cotton, fluffy and indulgent as she pats herself dry. The sight of her still-damp hair, pushed back from her forehead with only her fingers, is a strangely private one, seen reflected like this in his mirror. It makes her feel more shy than being all but nude in front of him did. It should worry her more that she can even think of herself, bared before him, without fleeing from here in shame.
It only occurs to her when she's getting redressed, that the bastard has claimed her panties.
At least she finds the decency to blush as she emerges from his bathroom.
He's sprawled across the office's leather couch, totally at ease, but he stands when she re-enters the room. "Mmm. The best part of seeing you clean and unsullied is thinking about how much I long to make you dirty again. Such a delicious sight." He grins at her, and it's positively wicked. "Shall we get right on with it? No, I suppose you'll have your questions."
She asks the first of them, but in light of that unwavering smile, it doesn't hit with as much force as she intended. "What the hell business do you have in this realm? I didn't call for you."
He waves a hand, dismissive. "You already did that many years ago, Precious. It was never a closed invitation. Besides, I find this century fascinating. The influx of technology is breathtaking, as is your relatively recent heed of the plight of your fellow man. It's also quite refreshing to see your changing attitudes towards sex roll round again. Silly, really, that brief period of prudishness – as if childbirth was shameful, and your ancestors didn't take their fucking in full view of the rest of their tribes. Sexual liberation, women's rights, charity, and cordless phones – it's all quite stimulating for me. Still, it will be something of a comfort when we return home for a while."
She cocks her head to one side. "Home?" It's foolish – she knows as well as he does where this is headed, but she can't resist asking. She needs to hear it come from him.
"My kingdom, Sarah – the one you so cruelly refused, once. I've given you time enough to rethink your decision, and now I believe it's been made quite clear to both of us exactly what it is you want."
"How can you be so sure?"
He answers her question with one of his own. "Why were you so keen to read the princess' surrender?"
Shit. "It was just a reading! It didn't mean I wanted to … to …" What? Swear her fealty to the Goblin King? Elope with him? Allow for him to fuck her again, right here, right now?
"A reading you had not prepared for. Don't bother to lie to me, love, I know my Sarah – she wouldn't come to such an important audition unprepared. You had a different scene planned, you saw me, and it caused you to change your mind. Why?" When she does not answer – can not answer – he chuckles softly. "As I thought. If words are troubling you, I have other suggestions to occupy that mouth – you seem so talented with it, after all."
She's positive that her face must be crimson with shame by now. "Since you're determined to act like a jerk, I'm going to go ahead and pretend you didn't say that." She also pretends not to notice just how appealing his lips are, when he pouts in mock-disappointment. "Okay, so let's say that, deep down, I did know it was you. Let's assume that was just my head's way of testing the water – making sure that you were really, well, you, and that I wasn't going crazy."
Her excuses are doing nothing but amuse him, and his smug smile is getting under her skin. "Hmm. And you couldn't have done that by simply asking?"
"What would you have suggested? 'Hi, I'm Sarah, I'm here to audition, and, also, did you once kidnap my brother eight years ago?'"
He tuts; wags a finger. "Only when you willed it, if you'll recall."
"Regardless, I couldn't be sure. You look …" Hot? Like some genetically blessed, incredibly fuckable- "…different. Human. Besides, it's not like I've seen you in almost a decade."
"And how much has changed in that time." His eyes rake down her body like scorching, sumptuous talons, and she can't repress her shiver. He gives her a wink when his eyes finally return to hers. "I'm glad to know you've finally gotten over that silly business of defying me, at least. If nothing else, I think both of us can agree that we were in sore need of that little rendezvous."
She has to concur, but, of course, not in a way he can see or hear. "It was just sex. I haven't agreed to obey anything you ask of me."
"You will, in time."
His satisfaction is radiating from him in waves – Sarah can practically feel it. This is a man who has the capacity to drive her mad, and, most likely, in a way that makes her love him for it. He still hasn't made a move to kiss her, and she tries to push that exasperating thought from her mind in favour of more important business – like how the hell she's going to get out of this office without succumbing to him again. Like how she's going to face her boring life and shitty apartment after all this. Would it be undignified for a lowly actress to go tearing out of here, screaming at the top of her lungs?
Would it be undignified for a monarch of both worlds – the goblins' hard king, and strutting prince of Hollywood – to come running after her?
He's speaking again, something about their return to his realm, and she forces her muddled brain to leave its distracted, futile thoughts of escape, to seize on it.
"What would that even entail? Hypothetically speaking – because I am not agreeing to anything – would I be trapped there? Made to stay forever in your world, like you threatened to do with Toby? Would I ever be able to see my family again? My own world, even?"
He shrugs, as if the idea has hardly concerned him. "We can return, on occasion – I sense you'd like that. As I said, even I am not entirely blind to the charms of this realm. We can visit, certainly, but I think we both know where you truly belong."
Where she belonged. Could a kingdom full of goblins and dreamscapes really be any stranger than tinseltown in the early 90s? At least the magic there would be real. But, oh, no, she isn't thinking about running away with him, not seriously, at least. Not after just one fuck. There's something between them, yes, that's obvious now, but surely she can't be foolish enough to still believe in a happily ever after. She knows all too well that the only fairytale endings to be found around here take at least eight takes to film, and, more often than not, involve an angry director screaming in her ear.
She knows this director could cause a different screaming entirely, but, oh, that sets her mind wandering down the path of certain other happy endings – and, no, she really isn't thinking about that. He's offering her a way out of this place, of this life she's hated for so long – an actual fairytale; one that a certain mouse corporation would have difficulty slapping anything less than an R-rating on, to boot.
It's everything her musing teenage-self had dreamed of – the handsome hero come to rescue her at last, but he's no watered-down Prince Charming, with a spring in his step, a pure song in his heart, and, no doubt, a politely repressed hard-on to rival a Ken doll's. No, since the Goblin King came into her life all those years ago, she's learned it's sometimes more thrilling to root for the villain. She needs a little excitement, and there's more than enough of that seductive cad in him to tempt her … and as for the sex …
No, she still isn't thinking about that. How can she even dream of planning the rest of her life while she's still high on his touch, and throbbing from the way he's been inside her? The smug bastard has yet to return her underwear.
Ignoring his statement, or attempting to, at least, she crosses the room to his desk. "What the hell did you do with my panties?" she asks, unsurprised to find no trace of them beneath the desk, or otherwise. She notices, with a dull sense of embarrassment, that he has cleaned up the mess they made together, his desk shining and spotless once more.
"You're not going to find them there, love." His voice, so close to her ear once again, makes her jump. She hadn't even heard him approach, but as she was beginning to realise, wherever she went, he would be sure to follow.
She jerks her head away and turns to face him, regretting it at once. He relents none of that close proximity, and she finds herself stepping backwards, simply to remove herself from the temptation his lips now offer. She winces inwardly, both at the way her retreat weakens her, and at the feel of solid wood against the backs of her thighs, blocking off any further hope of escape.
"So … what? You're stealing underwear now, as well as babies?"
Jareth grins as he closes that space between them. "Am I not entitled to a trophy for my victory over you?"
Somewhere, vaguely, that amuses her, and she has to bite back her own smile. It would be crazy to laugh at a time like this, but he's always done the whole teasing thing well. "I didn't get anything when I beat the labyrinth – when I beat you."
"Might I remind you again that you turned down my most generous offer, and left me feeling quite inadequate, you naughty girl. Besides, now you have me."
"Oh, you smug …" She turns her face away, irked; shamelessly aroused.
He wastes no time in turning it back. The fingers beneath her chin warm her far more than they have any business doing. "Just as my reward is you," he continues, and his words are as soft as his lips look. "And, for what it's worth, the offer still stands."
Just let me rule you … Oh, and treading any further down that path would be dangerous territory indeed. She's getting breathless already, and, try as she might, she cannot stop eyeing his goddamn mouth. "Can I at least think about this?"
"Of course, provided you have no objection to various other activities, whilst said thinking occurs."
"You know damn well how hard you make it to think."
"Mmm-hmm. 'Hard' being the operative word." She doesn't move as his hands come to rest on either side of her hips, holding onto the edge of his desk and keeping her effectively pinned between it, and his body. Those damnable lips move closer – dangerously close – and brush the corner of her jaw as he speaks. "It's not all bad, is it, love?" he purrs. "I think you managed to find at least some level of enjoyment while you were pulsing around my cock."
She almost hears the wet sound the pit of her stomach makes, as it hits the floor. Her voice emerges low and hoarse. "Stop."
"As you wish." It's only when he removes himself from her immediate vicinity, that she realises how much she misses his heat. How has he managed to burn her so very deeply?
"Wait."
And he does. His smile is inviting, magnetic, drawing her in, and in the end there's no possible way she can resist. She leans closer, breathing in the warm, masculine scent of him, her intent clear, but he plucks even that power from her grasp, moving at the last second to press his mouth decisively to hers. She should be frustrated, should pull back and slap him for this, but oh, god, he's kissing her, and nothing else seems to matter any more. She groans deeply, and it's swallowed up by his full, supple lips, his hot tongue invading her mouth.
Somehow, he manages to coax her into sitting atop his desk, and she has no idea exactly when he manages to wangle his way between her thighs. Her legs have parted most accommodatingly, without quite meaning to, somewhere along the line, letting his eager hands, and her already-rumpled skirt ride up high upon her thighs. Both of them know she's bare beneath it.
Of the many hours she spent trapped inside his labyrinth, perhaps a total of only one was actually spent in his company, but it has proven enough to ruin her for a lifetime. Somehow, she's finding it increasingly difficult to care. With her fingers fisted in his soft blonde hair, her thighs wrapped so perfectly around his slim hips, it is easy to forgive him anything. His kiss is all the apology she needs.
She thought at first she might attack him, in her need and her frustration, but there's a raw sensuality in him that coaxes her from savagery. His lips are soft and enticing, and he soothes her hungry mouth with his tongue, kissing her deeply, and with a passion that makes her toes curl. She presses her heels into the firm curves of his ass, pulling him in closer. Already, the hard shape of his cock pushes back. She gives a low groan against his lips, pulling back just enough to free her mouth from his demanding tongue.
"You didn't even lock the door last time," she gasps, but her voice is weak; distracted, as his mouth continues to take whatever it can. He seeks out bare, wanting skin like his lips were made for no other purpose, finding a spot along her jawline that she never dreamed could make her knees weaken this way. "Someone could … someone could come …"
"Mmm … that's what I'm counting on."
She turns her face away, grasping for reason, for anything other than how goddamn good his lips feel. "We've waited this long – shouldn't we at least take this somewhere more private?"
Undeterred, he shifts his kisses to her throat instead, his words reverberating through the sensitive skin there. "It's a little late for that, don't you think – and haven't I been patient enough? I waited years to touch you for the first time – years of lusting and longing – and I'm still far from satisfied. You can't expect me to wait any longer to have you again. Besides, there's no one here to see you but me – and I'll never share you, love. I can give you romance, one day, when we've worked off some of this infernal need, but for now – and the next time, and the next – just let me fuck you."
She should protest, but instead, she tips her head back to give him better access. She moans as his lips and tongue take full advantage, and again as his hands find her breasts. "You're … you're being pretty presumptuous, just assuming there's gonna be a 'next time'."
His smile is wide against her pulse point. "You're at least staying on for the film, aren't you? I figure we'll have time for lots of fun behind the scenes."
"So I got the part?"
He gives a hard thrust of his hips to make his point. "Who do you think sent word to your agent? The other girls were a formality – it was yours to begin with." His hands squeeze her breasts, and he presses a kiss to the point of her chin as he works his way back to her mouth. "Always meant for you. Written for you. Waiting for you." Groping her, reawakening those parts of her anatomy that he manipulates so well. Cupping her ass through her skirt, and grinding himself against her firmly enough to leave the guilty imprint of her wetness on his khakis. "All you had to do was come."
She whimpers softly; nibbles at his warm, velvet mouth. "Shut up and fuck me, then."
There's still the urgency of their first time, but now, blessedly, she's given more chance of her own to explore. She gets to watch him as he moves to be inside her. Her fingers still tremble as they unbutton his shirt, this time, but now it's sheer impatience that makes her unsteady. She peels the shirt open, and his bare chest is warm and smooth beneath her eager palms. She lets her hands skim over his nipples, the firm muscles of his belly, and this time it's her who unfastens his belt.
She yields easily enough to him as he strips her of her blouse and bra, laying kisses on every square inch of bare skin he discovers; hikes her skirt up around her waist once more. The blue tails of his shirt flap around his hips as he lets trousers and briefs both slip to the floor. Between toned, pale thighs, his cock juts long and full, curving upward almost enough for the tip to nudge at his belly. It's the most undressed she has ever seen him, and it makes her all the more excited to have him this way – dishevelled, aroused; undeniably hers.
Finally, he's back within the circle of her legs, hands staking their claim of her hips, the thick head of his cock hot and hard against her inner thigh. He wastes no time pushing into her as her arms lock around his neck, filling her thoroughly as she lays back, and urges him down to join her. He remains standing before his desk, though, using the leverage to press deeper inside her as she cries out, but he leans down with her enough to mouth at her left breast.
His hands tighten around her hips, as he tongues her nipple. She arches into his hot mouth; raises her hips to meet every thrust as he moves inside her. She can feel the vibrations all through her overheated flesh as he moans around her nipple, before beginning to suck, and the sensation runs a torrid line down through her belly, all the way down to her soaking wet cunt. He alternates between her breasts, not out of any real desire to tease her, but seemingly his own need to devour as much of her as he possibly can. He sucks, and licks, and bites gently at her reddened and throbbing nipples, but his hands never surrender their claim of her hips; his own hips never slow as he makes her his.
Had she ever realised that this was what she was missing in her life? If she had, would she have sought him out sooner, finding some excuse to meet with the great director, in the hope of having him fuck her senseless? As he moves inside her, filling her deeply with every hard thrust, she knows the answer is yes, yes, yes. He feels amazing, like everything she has wanted for so long, granted at last, and, perhaps craziest of all, it feels powerful, like she hasn't just accepted the inevitable, but has seized it; made it her own. Her orgasm surges up from the very tips of her toes, but before she gives herself over to it, she calls for him to join her, her legs tightening around him, driving him in to the hilt.
This time, before he spills himself inside her, she gets to watch the hunger in his eyes, the urgent need for release. The sight of the great Goblin King as he transcends mere mortal beauty at the height of his pleasure, to become something else entirely. It's glorious – he is glorious – and in that moment, as she comes along with him, reaching a level of pleasure only he has been able to gift her with, he belongs only to her.
When he finally collapses atop her, his warm weight, pressed tightly against her racing heart, is freeing.