The ballroom had known opulence, now it knew ruin. Bubbles still decorated the room, hanging here and there, catching what light they could. Between glittering cornices hung many long chandeliers where the wax, dripping for a hundred years. Now they were lopsided and dark, and not a single candle burned to light the space. The silk covering of the walls had faded and worn, threadbare curtains fluttered on a wind from the gapping hole in the glass wall at one end of the spherical room. Sarah got tangled in one of the fluttering drapes, and pulled it down; it was ripping anyway. She tossed her ripped blouse and wrapped the drape about her like a sarong.
The room was now empty. The only reminders of the grand ball were scattered masks on the floor and the stairs and the music that still hung lightly in the air.
Sarah pulled the fabric closer to her, this was a far cry from the beautiful gown she'd worn her last visit here. She had gone from looking like a princess, to being dressed in rags. Tears welled in her eyes. She found herself looking into another of the tall mirrors around the room. Behind her, she saw Jareth standing alone. He too was different, gone was the resplendent midnight blue frock coat. She knew every inch of the owl cloak, of the pale lawn shirt, open down a muscular chest. She knew the line and fit of the breeches and the fitted boots, she had drawn them often enough. He had been hiding in an arch, now he was just standing behind her. He was holding a horned mask on a stick, but he had lowered it now, to look straight at Sarah in the mirror. He tossed the mask aside, and stared at the woman who was staring at his reflection. He held his hand out. Sarah blushed and turned away in embarrassment.
"Face me," he commanded.
She turned around, not expecting that he would really be there. He was, still holding out his hand to her. She walked past him, ignoring the hand held out toward her. "You bastard, why did you bring me back here? Was I getting too close? Are you so afraid of me besting you yet again?"
White layers of fabric in his cape fluttered on the wind. "I wanted you to see the consequences of your choices." He watched her with feral eyes.
"My choices?" She glared at him, "What do you know of my choices?" She moved down the stairs feeling cold, hungry and very much alone. "You know nothing of me or my choices. You are just a bad loser. You were a bad loser twenty years ago, and you've not changed."
"This room is the consequence of your choice." His arm waved about the room, "Look at it, Sarah. You did this." He had followed her down the steps, taunting and contemptuous.
She turned, red eyed and looking like three days in hell. "I think we have equal shares of blame in how this room turned out, oh mighty King!"
"I was not the one who used a party chair to smash the wall of glass," he reminded her. "I was behaving like a perfect gentlemen at the time, if you recall."
"Perfect gentleman my ass!" She spat at him, "Why the hell did you bring me to this room in the first place? To cheat! To get me to forget my task, which was saving Toby." She accused pointing her finger at him.
"You did forget," he goaded her further. "You were only to happy too be the belle of the ball."
"I was fifteen," Sarah closed her eyes and shouted. "What the hell did you expect?" She turned her back on him. "It was all so different then. Everything here was different."
"I warned you things had changed," he scoffed.
Sarah spun around and charged at him. "You did not tell me that I was going to be molested by the Fireys. The Wise man in the garden is really an old pervert! You didn't tell me that the guards at the ruse were going to hit on me, or that the helping hands were going to cop a feel!" She tripped on the fabric she had wrapped herself in and fell against Jareth.
Jareth looked mildly amused as he steadied her. "The Fireys have always been wild. The reason they didn't do anything more than try to take your head before was your age. No child is ever harmed in the Labyrinth." He laughed at her. "The wise man is not a pervert, just a friendly lonely old man."
"Bull!"
"You say the guards hit on you. How do I know you didn't instigate it? As for the helping hands, well…" Jareth had a sly grin on.
It was one straw too many for her camel. Before she knew she had done it she raised her hand and slapped him, hard. Jareth stared at her, and then he slapped her back with as much force as she had struck him. She slapped him a second time; he cuffed her sending her a pace back.
Sarah saw red, and flew at him with both hands extended, and tripped over the fabric as it fell off her. "I hate you!"
Hands like steel bands gripped her forearms and sent her flying backward into the cushioned pit. As she struggled to get up, he barked at her. "Stay down, woman."
"Go to Hell!" She continued to struggle.
He waved his hand, and vines that had been part of the décor wrapped themselves round her wrists He felt his face where she had struck him, and it stung like hell. "As I said, I brought you here to discuss your choices."
"I've nothing to say to you." She looked defiantly away from him.
He regarded her for a moment. He looked wild and he could see she was fearful. "You are wise to fear me right now, Sarah." His voice was low, almost a growl. "You have nothing to say? Fine, I'll do the talking. From the moment you broke that wall," he waved to the gaping hole in the room, "you have been on a path of self destruction."
"I have not!"
"Look at where your choices have landed you," he suggested in a treacherous manner.
"I'm not here because of my choice!" She struggled with the vines. "I'm here because…." She stopped.
"Because of a choice you made," Jareth taunted. "You picked him for your husband, that clod who wished away your children."
Sarah looked away.
"Let's start with your choices after you left my hospitality." Sarah shot him an angry look at the word 'hospitality'. "Your little party, when you celebrated your grand victory of winning back Toby. Who, by the way, was much happier here then he has been back Above. You allowed all kinds of my subjects to be there, to share in your glory. Yet you choose to leave me out in the cold, watching from a window."
She did not look at him. "I didn't know you were watching."
"You didn't care," he snarled. "You humiliated me, and then poured salt in my wounds." For a few seconds, they were watching each other's eyes. Then his gaze shifted from her eyes to her body. "Still you pour your salt into my wounds."
Sarah pulled at the vine holding her back. "So I didn't invite you in, big deal. I don't see it as a bad choice!"
"You wouldn't," he sneered.
The vines held tight, not giving an inch. Sarah fell back into the cushion behind her. "So you're going to lecture me on the life choices I've made, is that it?"
"Hardly," he was still studying her body.
"What do you know of my choices, besides me not inviting you into my bedroom?" She asked in a resigned sigh.
"I know that you have never been happy. I know the choices you've made have left you empty and hollow. I know that every kiss from the men you've allowed in your life has left the taste of ashes in you sweet mouth." He crossed his arms. The arrogant smirk was back. "I know no man has ever satisfied you."
"Oh really?" Sarah took a long hard look at him. "You are so wrong." She dug deep into the arsenal of bravado. "I've no memory of the taste of ashes, I remember the taste of being loved. I have been more than fulfilled." She was anticipating that his ego would get a proficient wound with her words.
"You've lied to yourself for so long, and now you're going to lie to me," his eyes danced with fire. "How typical."
"I'm not lying," Sarah said with almost a proud smile. "I've known love, and I've been very satisfied." She rolled her shoulder to emphasize her point.
"I see." He smiled like someone about to rip someone apart. "You want to stick to that story, do you?"
"It's no story, it's the truth."
He took a breath, "Well then, perhaps you'd like to explain this." He held up the little sketchbook.
"Where did you get that?" Color drained from Sarah's face. "That's mine."
"Yes, I know it's yours." He opened it up, leafing though the pages. "It's very revealing, and I'm not referring to just the drawings, Sarah. How nice of you to put dates down and the little comments."
Sarah winced. "That's private."
Turning the book so she could see the nude portrait she had made of the Goblin King he smiled, "I'd hope so."
"Those drawings don't prove anything!" She was grasping at straws.
"Of course they do, Sarah. They prove that you are not satisfied." He crooned as he leafed though a few more pages.
"Stop that!"
"Tell me Sarah, I'm curious." He smiled at her again. "If you are so satisfied, why is it you always turn back to me?"
"I don't." It was weak and she knew it. "Those are just drawings."
Jareth reclined in the cushions beside her. "They are far more then mere drawings. These represent all of your frustrations and deep dark desires. The flames that you want to consume you that have yet to even warm your skin."
"Says you." She pulled again at the vine.
"No, Sarah." He held up the book. "Says you."
"That book is just one of many I have." She tried changing the subject. "I've done several studies on the inhabitants of your realm. You were not my only subject."
"I seem to be the only one you like to undress." He lay back and continued to leaf though the book.
"How did you find that?" she asked with growing anger.
"Jenny was kind enough to tell me about it," He smiled.
Sarah shook her head, "Jenny doesn't know about that book. You're lying."
"Of course Jenny knows about the book." Jareth was enjoying this even more than if he'd had her suspended over the bog. "She calls it Mommy's secret book. She said she recognized me from a picture she'd seen in here." He tapped the book. "Though I still think you could do a bit better on your proportions."
"You went though my apartment." She gulped. "How dare you?"
"You drew me in the nude, how dare you?" He returned.
Defense kicked in, "There's nothing wrong with nudes… the human body is a thing of beauty!"
Jareth did not even bother to look at her, he kept leafing though the book. "I'm not human."
Sarah closed her eyes and fell back into the pit. "It proves nothing."
"It proves plenty." Jareth rolled to his side. "It proves you regret so much. It proves you compare those mortal men in your life to me, and you find them wanting. You can admit you have never been satisfied, that never once have you reached a zenith."
"If that were true, and I'm not saying it is, I'd never admit it to you! I have been satisfied! I have two children to prove it." Sarah said though clenched teeth.
"You conceived. You never climaxed. You can do one without the other, you know." He sounded bored.
Sarah did know; she was surprised he did as well. "You're wrong," she whispered.
"Sarah, if I were wrong these pages would not be filled with my image." He waved the book in front of her face. "I'm right. You've made bad choices, starting with leaving here." He placed the book down beside her. "You should never have taken Toby away, either. He is not happy, you are not happy. Bad choices Sarah."
"Who says I'm not happy?"
Jareth tapped the book. "You do."
Again she pulled at the vines, "I'm doing just fine, thanks."
"Just fine?" Jareth shook his head. "Your husband left you and his young daughter when you were pregnant with his son. He does not support you, he forced you to sell the house you loved, and he runs around with women in front of the children, forcing them to call his dollies 'auntie'. He even cut your children off his insurance. Yes, dear, you're doing just fine."
Sarah's head spun around to face him, her mouth open. "You've been watching me."
"I already told you that," he sighed. "Were you not listening to me?"
"How long?"
"Sarah, I've been at every major event in your life," he informed her as if telling her that it was raining outside.
Color drained and she looked faint. "Every event?"
"Prom, graduation, wedding… you name it … I was there."
Sarah made a mental inventory of her life, "No, I would have known. I'd have seen."
"I saw everything." His voice went husky. "Every thing." He leaned over her. "Had I known about this little book of yours…"
"The only thing that proves is I thought you were a good subject to draw."
He picked up the book, opened to a page. "I'd say it proves you more than liked my body." He snickered. "You should never have penned your thoughts. Each time a beau disappointed you, or a lover failed to satisfy you turned to me. How telling. "
"You're wrong." She was trembling, and she hated it.
Jareth reached over slid his hand over her skin. The electric shocks even with his hand gloved sent quivers though her. "I can prove I'm right, Sarah." He looked at the tattered remains of her undergarments. "Shall we see?"
"No," her eyes widened.
"Then admit it, admit that you have been left empty… that the kisses have left the taste of ash…" he cajoled.
"No." she struggled again with the vines. "If I get free."
"You won't until I'm ready for you to be freed." His hand moved over her again. "If you are not willing to freely admit it, then it is up to me to prove it to you." He moved to her ear. "I will enjoy proving this point by the way." The hand cupped her breast, and began to knead it, slowly, firmly. His eyes watched her wince, then bite her lip. "I can tell you what's been missing from all your mortal lovers Sarah. I can tell you why none of them ever were able to feed and free the fires within you. However, words are so flat. Better to show you."
"Take your hand off me!" She ordered
"No, Sarah, my hand stays." He lay on his side, totally relaxed. His head was held up with the hand that was not playing with her breast. He moved his hand up over her shoulder and pulled the bra strap down. He was unhurried, and looked at her as if he were looking at something that was only mildly interesting. He waved his hand gently over her and her garments, and what remained of them dissolved into the air. His gloved fingers dipped down and began to pull at her exposed nipple. With expertise and well practiced skill he soon had it hard. He rolled it between fingers, drawing a long gasp from her lips. He looked at her face, then lowered his face to her breast. The tip of his tongue flicked the hardened peak. She arched, involuntarily. Jareth opened his mouth, and pressed it over the rosy peak.
"No," she moaned. "I don't want you."
"Deny it, if it makes you feel better." He murmured as he sucked her nipple. "Your body says different."
"Stop!
"No," he said firmly. Raising his head, he began to kiss the tip of the sensitive hardened bud.
Sarah closed her eyes. "This is not happening."
"Yes it is." To prove it was real he slid his hand down her abdomen. Her eyes shot open, and he smiled. "It is happening, whether you like it or not. However, if your nipples are any indication, you like it."
"Is this how you get your jollies? Tie a girl up and molest her?" Sarah writhed.
Jareth's hand was now at the dark curls that covered where she was emitting a warm scent. "Molesting you is just the beginning, I promise." He moved his shoulder blocking her view of his hand. He had made the ever-present glove vanish, so it was his skin touching her. Her eyes closed tight as the first finger slip over the curls of damp hair. Her mouth opened, but no sound issued until one finger moved over the now slick entrance. He pressed forward, and his finger slid into her its full length. He felt her contract on him, and smiled.
"Stop, Jareth, stop," she whimpered. "You don't have the right to do this."
"I'm King," he said quietly. "I do as I please."
"This is wrong, so wrong."
Jareth felt the tremors building in her. He removed his hand, and straddled her. "Look at me, Sarah," his voice commanded. Her eyes opened and he began to unfasten the breeches.
"No," she pulled back. "What do you think you're doing?"
"Giving you the correct proportions," He teased as his hands pulled the fabric down his slender hips. "You enjoy drawing me. I'd like you to draw me correctly."
She looked down, apprehensive. "That's quite all right, I don't need to see." It was all ready too late, he was exposed and she was seeing. "Oh my god."
He was hard, thick, long and throbbing. "As I said, I'd like you to have the correct proportions." Like a snake, he slithered down between her legs and pressed against her. "Now shall we discuss why your choice of men has always left you less than fulfilled?"
"No." she tried to shrink into the pillows, to put distance between her and his throbbing member. It was not working.
Jareth was no longer smiling, his face was hard, angry, and forcefully commanding. He moved like lightning, his hands gripped her hips. He raised up and in the batting of an eyelash, he entered her. From tip to hilt, he seated himself. She screamed, and it did not matter. He was in. He whispered a silent prayer of thanks to the Gods for making him Fae, for making in him in control of his functions. He released his seed. He knew she would not feel it. He wanted her aware of nothing but his taking her by force. He would know in a moment if his seed had been planted in fertile ground. She screamed thrashed and bucked. He pressed down against her, ignoring her cries. His hands pulled her hips to him, planting his shaft even deeper. A sound came from her throat, and she arched. "That, Sarah," he said slowly. "Is what was missing."
"No," she fought against him. "I don't want this, I don't want you."
"The hell you don't." He pulled her hips to him again. "I fill you."
Sarah closed her eyes, as muscle rippled against muscle. She hated him, but he was right, nothing had ever felt like this. No one had ever filled her so completely. "No."
Slowly he raised up, then lowered; the first stroke was electric. He repeated the movement, and she moaned. The third stroke drew a hiss. The fourth caused her to shudder uncontrollably. The fifth stroke found her hips rise to meet him. "I'm what was missing, Sarah." He whispered in her ear.
Sarah looked at him. "No."
"Yes," he said increasing his thrusts. "That's why you were never complete.
Those mere mortal males could not give you what you needed. You kept looking for 'the bad boys', thinking they were the answer. The answer was never a bad boy. You don't need a boy, Sarah. You need a bad man, one bad man. Me."
Her body was betraying her, and she could not stop it. She was not even sure if she wanted to stop it. "That's a lie," she hissed.
"Tell me this is not the best you've had." He kissed her ear. "Tell me I don't feel wonderful inside you." His hands traveled over her, drawing responses to his movements.
"Bastard." She turned her face, closing her eyes again.
"Yes, Sarah, I am." He thrust harder. "You've no idea of what a bastard I am."
"Stop!" She screamed. "I want you to stop."
"When I've finished," he promised. "I'll stop when I've finished proving my point." He cupped her derrière and felt the quiver of excitement she did not want him to know of, and he smiled ferally. "You own me this, Sarah. This and so much more."
"I owe you nothing!" She screamed as he quickened his pace.
"I was generous enough to give you a chance to win back your children, Sarah. I didn't have to make the offer." He told her self-righteously. "I don't blame the helping hands for feeling you up, nor do I blame the Fireys for wanting to have a go at you. You're hot, deep and wonderfully wet, sweet Sarah."
"I hate you." She could not stop the quiver, the buildup, and then the release. He brought her to a screaming explosion of an orgasm. She lay back panting and swallowed hard. "I hate you."
Jareth pulled out of her, the sucking sound heard by both of them. "I don't care." He stood up, pulled his breeches back into place. "Time is short my dear. You should be on your way if you intend to try to win those children back." Moving his hand, the vines released her. "I'll be waiting for you."
Sarah watched him vanish like a Chester cat; his smile was the last thing that vanished. She rolled over for a moment and screamed into the pillows.