Sarah awoke with a start; there was a hand tossed casually over her torso. A hand she did not remember or recognize. Then there was the bed itself; she was sure it was not hers. She sat up and looked around, and it all came back to her.
Jareth opened his eyes a slit, watching her like an owl, and waited. A hand came up and pushed back the long dark hair. He could hear the soft sound of a pained moan, then felt the rocking motion. He wondered why human women did that. What good did it do. He looked up and saw that she was cradling herself as she rocked. He could make out the faint tremble of her lips and the silent tears.
"I lost," she whimpered to herself. "I lost." The rocking increased.
Jareth sat up and looked at her, but made no effort to hold her, to stop her or to comfort her. She would not have appreciated it. Silently he sat watching as she came to terms with the reality of her new station. The rocking gradually eased, and finally came to a stop. The silent tears dried, and she took a long ragged breath. He leaned back into his pillow, watching. Sarah lay back as well, not making an effort to speak. When her breathing eased, he closed his eyes, going back to sleep. Slowly he placed his arm back over her.
The next time Sarah woke, sunlight was flooding the room and she was alone. Rising, she found she was achy from her trek in the Labyrinth. 'A good long soak will take care of that,' she thought. Her intuition told her Willa would have things well in hand with her children. She used the little alcove door to her private rooms. The bath was lavish, and well appointed. It seemed to Sarah the Fae world appreciated modern plumbing more than most folk.
The deep sunken tub filled with scented water, and she lowered herself into its bounty. Many thoughts plagued her and she was trying to sort out the troubled tangle of emotions. Could Jareth be right? Could he be telling the truth? That her choices had led her back here? Could it be life was that cruel? Had she been looking for bad boys when what she needed was…NO! It could not be. It was just Jareth twisting things just as he always had.
Still, the shards of truth were there. No mortal male, man or boy, had ever been able to make her feel what Jareth had. Even before he had taken her by force in the ruins, he had been present in her thoughts. She had taken to drawing him every time she was disappointed. Then she had taken to drawing him in ways that fed the hunger in her. OH Good God! Was Jareth right, was he the only one who could….
The combination of hot water and hot thoughts began to have their own effect.
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Jareth was in the throne room, ordering goblins to move this or polish that. After centuries of being misused and abused, The room was beginning to show the grandeur with which it had been designed. Gone were the stray chickens, pigs and cats. Gone was the filth on the floor, and the piles of god knows what in the pit. The walls had been washed down, and the floor; even the ceiling was clean. Jareth stopped in mid-sentence, and looked over at the stairs. He drew a crystal and focused; Sarah's face appeared. He saw her in the bath, and he heard her thoughts. "Well, well," he muttered. "Interesting." Jareth waved the goblins from the room, took a seat in his throne and watched as Sarah let her mind carry her on a wave of passion, and lust. When she shuddered in the waters, he smiled. "Very interesting, but I think I can do you one better, Sarah."
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Sarah dried and dressed, composed herself and with a smile went to visit the children. Willa looked up as she came in and watched the children greet their mother. The rest of the day, Sarah spent being acquainted with the rooms her children used. She lunched with them and Willa. When they went down for their naps, she went back to her sitting room. She was not sure how she was supposed to spend her time. It was something she would have to talk to Jareth about.
Bored and at odds ends, she wandered into his chamber. She looked at the artwork he had on the walls, the furniture layout, the rug pattern and the balcony. She looked, but she didn't really see. Sarah sat on the bed, and wondered what she was supposed to do with herself.
Jareth found her leaning over the balustrade, gazing down on the City as the sun set. "Thinking of jumping?" he teased as he approached.
"No," she sighed. "Just looking at the City, and listening to the sounds."
"Goblins like noise," Jareth said. "Makes them feel cozy."
"I noticed they kept a lot of the rocks Ludo called up, and built round them." She pointed to a large rock at the end of the lane. She looked at him. "How was your day? Did you get the rest of the muck out of your throne room?"
"It resembles a throne room, or what I think one is supposed to look like. I never spend much time at the High Court. Too…confining." He too leaned on the balustrade. "I've rather enjoyed the goblins. Fun little buggers." He straightened up. "Time to have dinner. Come, Sarah, don't dawdle."
Jareth had his own dinning area. He watched her as they supped. When the meal was over, he excused himself to finish an hour's worth of work left in his private office. Sarah sat on the balcony and listened to the sounds of the goblin mothers singing. When Jareth returned, Sarah looked like a caged animal.
"Sarah," he called to her. "Draw me a bath."
Looking at him, wondering if he had lost his mind, she pointed out that she had no idea of how he liked his water.
"Hot," he said, pulling off his boots. "Now be quick about it. It's been a long day working and I think a hot bath is just what I need."
"It's your funeral," she muttered, walking into his bathing area. It was twice the size of the bath in her private rooms. Sarah walked over to the hot faucet opened it full bore. Hot steamy water poured into the deep wide tub. Soon the room looked more like a sauna. Through the thick mist now swirling around the room, Jareth moved past her. Sarah felt her cheeks color as she caught a glimpse of his naked form. She heard the sound of something entering the water. "Hot enough for you?" she asked with a touch of sarcasm.
"Join me," he commanded as he leaned back letting the water claim him.
"I can't." she said quietly.
"It was not a request," he said firmly.
Sarah looked at the steam that rose from the waters. "Request or order, I can't. The water is too hot for a human."
"Sarah, I have given you an order. You will obey it, or pay the price." His voice was flat. "Get out of those clothes and into this tub now."
"Yes, Sire."
He leaned back against the back of the tub. He watched as she removed the dress, as she walked down the tiled steps and into the deep well of the tub. He saw the shock in her eyes as she realized the water was not going to scald her. He handed her an oversized sea sponge, "My back, if you please."
"I'm not your dammed Geisha." The words spoken were in anger and distrust.
Jareth looked at her. "You are my consort, woman. Do as you are told." He turned his back on her. "My back."
Biting back words that would put her in even more hot water than this tub, she moved closer and began to move the sponge over his shoulder blades. "As you wish."
Jareth listened to her breathing, looking for the rhythm. Right now, she was angry, it worked for him. He wanted her confrontational. "Lower," he said. Her hands answered with longer strokes of the sponge. "Thank you, that will do." He felt her move back toward the other end of the tub. He turned, faced her, and spread his arms over the long edge of the tub. "Come here."
Sarah, who was kneeling in the waters, edged closer. "Something else you want?"
His face was a mask, no emotions betrayed. Gone were the smirk and the leering eyes. For a moment, his face reminded her of how he had looked at her when he had lowered that horned mask twenty years ago. This was a king, confident and controlling. He was powerful; master of his fate and hers as well. Long fingers, on hands that were exquisitely graceful, flexed against the tiled rim of the tub lip. One hand moved slowly toward her. He pulled her closer, and settled her across his legs. Gently he placed her hands, one at a time, on his shoulders. His eyes met hers, "Do I disturb you?" he asked in a low murmur.
"Very much." She wanted to remove her hands from his shoulders, but an inner voice told her leave them where they were.
His eyes were dark, stormy, mismatched seas. Both hands began to explore her, taking inventory of his possession. He heard the breath catch in her throat, saw the flood of color rush to her cheeks. His thumbs began to circle the nipples of her full rounded breasts. Moving down her torso, his hands gripped her hips and raised her up. She closed her eyes, lips trembling with anticipation. He could feel her almost welcoming his assault. Her hands flexed on his shoulders. He held her suspended above his swollen, hardened manhood. She trembled as he lowered her. He felt the shift of her legs, allowing him better entry. As he entered, he paused, held her suspend for a moment, then lowered her but an inch. He heard her grasp, felt her shudder. He lowered her yet another inch, holding her suspended. Her eyes opened, as his muscle pierced her, inch by inch. He knew no mortal man would, even if he could, attempt this tour de force. It took more than concentration, it took a skill and control that few mortals would ever accomplish. Mortal lovers were usually too hurried and a rush was the last thing Sarah needed.
He held her waist, with only an inch left to total penetration. Unreadable stormy eyes looked into the green eyes. He watched as she was left exposed emotionally to him. "Do you want it?" he asked calmly.
Nostrils flared, eyes flamed, and teeth clenched. "No," she lied.
The fingers holding her waist flexed. The eyes staring into hers stayed impassive. He knew he was in control; he kept her suspended, pierced but not fully taken. He could feel his member throb within her. "Then we stay as we are."
Sarah opened her mouth, then shut it with a snap. 'As we are?' she looked down.
Jareth gave her a moment to think it over, then repeated. "Do you want it?"
Sarah closed her eyes, knowing if she said yes, he'd won. "No." Her answer was weakly given.
Jareth felt the corner of his lips twitch, the smirk was there, hiding. "I can stay this way longer than you, Sarah," he warned.
"The water will turn cold," she said, looking for a way out.
"No it won't," he said with confidence, flexing his fingers on her waist.
She looked at him. She was not certain but she thought the waters had actually gotten warmer. Her resolve was eroded by each little wave that lapped at her. Her lips trembled and her eyes flamed. When he made one slight movement, she gasped and moaned slightly.
He inclined his head and let his voice drop very low. "So Sarah…Do…You …Want…IT?"
Her head rolled back, her eyes shut and she surrendered. "Yes," she moaned. "Yes."
Jareth pulled her the rest of the way down his shaft, buried himself in her and held her close as she began to suck breath into her lungs. Closing his own eyes, he began the slow rhythm that would give her the release she needed, and desired. "You are mine Sarah."
She buried her face against his shoulder; she wanted to cry, to scream, to deny it all. But her traitor body had betrayed her. He had won yet again.
He held her closer, gentle hands caressing her as he took her where no one else had, could, or even would. When she achieved release, he cradled her against his heart. "Sarah, from the moment I took you into my arms in that ballroom twenty years ago, you have been mine. No one, mortal or Fae, will ever change that. Only I can give you what you need."
She lay still against him. "What did you do to me, back then?" The voice was frightened.
"I enchanted you," he admitted with a voice that was powerful and prideful. "I touched your soul, and marked it."
"That's so…"
"Accept it, Sarah." He gripped her to him. "You are mine, now and forever."
She looked up at him, the stormy eyes were still cold. She feared the moments of passion meant little to him. She was not sure she could live with that.
As if he read her mind, he whispered in her ear. "Think of yourself as a hostage to peace."
"That's so cold-blooded," she lamented. "Passion, but no love."
"Love," Jareth warned, "Can be a double edged sword, my dear. Take what is offered."
"Did you ever love me?" she asked quietly.
"You are only an obsession." He lied coldly.
"And if you tire of this… obsession?" Her lips trembled, as tears began to spill.
Jareth held his tongue, knowing biting words would destroy the foundation he was building. Nor could he turn around and confess undying love; he had painted himself into a corner. "Sarah, I have made you my consort. You will be the mother of my children. You need never fear being tossed aside again, as Paul tossed you and the children aside. I will honor the bargain made betwixt us. I will never allow myself to be obsessed by anyone or anything again. You will always be the one obsession."
Sarah sniffed, "Bargain? What bargain? I lost, you won…end of story."
"Hardly, my dear. You are carrying my child. Making you Consort is the bargain," he snorted, "I didn't have to offer you a position at all. I could have just let you have the baby… taken it from you… and sent you into exile…. And then wait eight years until Jenny is say…fifteen, make her my consort."
The roar came from deep inside Sarah. "Don't you ever touch my daughter!"
Jareth gripped her forearms; the fire was there. "I have no need to. I have her mother, now… and always."
Sarah felt her fingers dig into his skin. "I swear, if you ever so much as whisper a suggestion to Jenny… if you ever…"
"Jenny is safe," he countered, not flinching from the pain her fingers inflicted. "As long as you live up to your end of our bargain."
"And your terms?"
"You must behave as a proper Consort. You will do as you are told. You will give yourself to me whenever, however, and wherever." He stated watching her face.
"As you wish, Sire," Sarah's sense of defeat was clear in her voice. But for Jenny, she would dance with the devil. In this case, the devil was Jareth.