Three months later...

The door closed behind her with a lonely thud, shutting out the storm and the noise of the city. Sarah dropped her bag and groceries in the kitchenette and switched on the light, illuminating her tiny Manhattan apartment. There was a bookshelf against one wall, a recliner and a small table on another. A screen blocked her bed from view. It was quiet. It was always quiet. She shook her head and let out a breath.

Sarah hummed as she put things away, trying to ignore the nervous energy that had followed her home. The gloomy silence of her surroundings only exasperated it, and for a moment she considered heading back out into the hustle and bustle of the city. She would have, had she anyone to go with.

She didn't. Sarah's life hadn't exactly gone the way she thought it would.

At first, she thought that she simply had bad luck with men, but eventually she began to believe there was something intrinsically wrong with her, something that kept her from connecting to others in any meaningful way. Always it felt like something was missing from these attempted relationships, something basic and necessary. Her last attempt at a boyfriend had failed like all the rest, and she feared that her body was as cold and unyielding as her heart.

That had been some time ago, three years she had been alone now. Well that wasn't exactly right, she had always been alone in the truest sense. She filled her life with work and hobbies and empty acquaintances, but still there were these uncomfortable moments when things were quiet. Too quiet.

Everything was as tidy and organized as it was going to get, and, having nothing else to occupy herself with, she plopped down in her beloved brown poofy chair and cracked open a novel, eyes traveling over the page with an intentness born more out of determination than interest. Tonight was one of those nights, she could feel it, and like always, she wasn't sure whether she was excited or apprehensive.

It happened maybe four, five times a year, for the past ten years, always around the same time, on the anniversary of her victory over the Labyrinth, and the time of the solstices, when ancient peoples once upon a time believed the veil between worlds was thinnest, that magic was able to influence them. On these nights, without fail, she would be pulled into a dream that was not hers, to spend a night in a magical world that she secretly wished was. She could only assume that the dreams must be his, seeing as he was the only other person ever in them. But was he really so passionate, so sincere? Was it really her he dreamed of embracing time after time? She could hardly comprehend it, let alone consider it.

Her fingers thrummed against the back of her book and the tension in the air pricked at her nerves, but she stubbornly read on, sinking herself into an imaginary world and distracting herself with the plot and prose well into the night. When the clock struck eleven, the lights began to dim around her, and her heart began to race.

She stared at her book until it was too dark to see the words, and then, with a deep, nervous breath, she set it down on the chair and stood, taking in her surroundings. It was not the ballroom this time. Not the castle either. She could make out the brickwork of the walls, see how the roof curved overhead, how the passageway twisted and turned on either side. She was in the tunnels again. This dream was one she had experienced before, although it was slightly different every time. Something clenched deep within her as she remembered. Tunnel dreams were always a bit darker than the others.

She jumped as something rolled noisily towards her on the ground, a faint shine letting her know it was a crystal ball as it flitted by her feet. She worried her bottom lip with her teeth as she followed it, wondering why she didn't turn back, go back, wake up. She could if she wanted to. She had before, especially when she was younger. The crystal turned and rolled around the corner and into a larger, darker passage, and she followed it as if in a trance, curiosity overpowering all else.

A pile of rags sat slouched against a wall, holding a mug like a beggar on a streetcorner. The crystal jumped suddenly and landed neatly in the mug, which then seemed to disappear into the folds of ratty fabric. Sarah stood still, waiting for what would come next. The pile of rags looked up, revealing a large, lumpy nose and small, squinty eyes under a scruffy hat.

"Well, what have we here?" spoke a false, reedy voice.

"N-nothing," she answered with a gasp, playing along. She could feel the lure of compulsion tugging at her mind, telling her what to say and do, impressing upon her his desires and expectations. This was his mind, his dream, his world, and everything in it, even her to a degree, was of his imagining. Her body wasn't quite right, her clothes were out of style, her hair too long, even her voice was off. Her mind begged her to submit to his reality, but she resisted. Her will was as strong as his, after all.

"Nothing?" he spoke tauntingly as he stood.

She backed against the wall.

"Nothing? Nothing, tra la la?" the Goblin King spoke the last bit in his own deep, mocking, accented voice, having discarded his disguise. He shook it in front of her, as he had once done to Hoggle. But there was no treasonous dwarf here now to bear the brunt of his strange mood swings, there was only her. She said nothing, taking in his appearance while she waited for his next move.

He wore an outfit similar to the original; a brown leather jacket over luxurious patterned white silk, revealing grey tights tucked into sturdy heeled boots. Unlike before, the jacket was open and fell down to his knees, and the shirt was unbuttoned to the middle of his bare chest, which gleamed in the faint light and proudly displayed his golden pendant. His wild, fair hair shone against the dark contrast of his high collar, and his sharp eyes gleamed with some strange mixture of amusement, exasperation, and longing. He stepped towards her, cocking his head and regarding her appraisingly.

"Are you lost, precious thing?" the words slithered out from between lips curled into a predatory smirk.

"I'm sure I'll find my way," she heard herself say.

"With no one to show you how to get back?" he said.

"I don't want to go back!" she said indignantly.

"You don't?"

"No! I'm going to save Toby!" she said, and then wondered why she always played along, listening to the nudging at the edge of her consciousness that told her what he expected her to say. She wanted to tell him that it was really her, but she was afraid that would anger him, that he would somehow block her from these dreams. The very thought inexplicably left her feeling cold and sick.

"Your brother is safe at home in his bed."

"I don't- wait, what?" she said, thrown. This had never happened before. He threw her a crystal, which she caught reflexively. She just had time to glimpse an image of Toby asleep in his crib within before the crystal popped like a bubble.

"I want to play a new game with you, Sarah." He had somehow gotten very close to her all of the sudden. Sarah tried to scoot sideways to get away, but he leaned forward and placed a hand on the wall on either side of her, caging her in.

"What kind of game?" she asked fearlessly, looking him in the eye.

"A game of wills. If you win, I'll send you back home. If I win, you belong to me. Forever." he said in a casual voice, as if he was discussing the weather.

She shivered. "What are the rules?"

"You must keep perfectly quiet for the next hour," he said, pointing at the air nearby, where a golden clock appeared.

"That's all?" she asked suspiciously. His eyes held a mischievous twinkle that she didn't like at all.

"Will you play?" he challenged, avoiding her question.

Sarah thought for a moment, then met his gaze boldly and nodded. "It'll be a piece of cake."

His eyes flashed, and at first she thought it was from anger, but as he leaned in even closer she realized it was something else entirely. Off to the side, the clock started ticking.

"Oh Sarah, Sarah, Sarah, foolish girl, you know you're no match for me," he murmured in her ear, stroking one gloved knuckle down her cheek.

Sarah glared at him silently, willfully ignoring the warmth from his closeness and masculine scent that enveloped her.

"Or perhaps," he continued, his voice silken, golden hair tickling her cheek, "you want to lose. To let me rule you."

Sarah bit her tongue and focused her gaze on the wall behind him, refusing to let him provoke her. So he wanted to play this kind of game. Well that was fine with her, she had complete confidence in herself. She had seen plenty of his tricks over the years through these dreams. Besides, she knew her senses were somewhat dulled in the dreamscape, and that gave her hope that she could keep her focus.

His finger traced her jaw, her neck, then slid slowly across her collarbone, and her skin tingled where he had touched. He paused at the top of her chest, running his finger along the inside of her neckline, but going no further. He held her waist lightly with his other hand and moved so that their foreheads were nearly touching, so that she had to look at him. His gaze was playful, mocking, and yet still dark with… something. Not quite lust, but something more.

She stiffened and folded her arms over her chest, forcing his hand away and giving him a defiant scowl.

"Hmm, maybe not." He put both hands on her shoulders and stepped back, pulling her with him into the middle of the tunnel, where there was a bit more light. He let go of her and stood a few paces away, studying her. She kept her arms crossed and her stare fixed on the ground, wholly focused on keeping her breathing and heart rate steady as he began circling her.

"So defiant. And yet, you make no effort to escape, though I have given you opportunity to."

Sarah glanced down the tunnel, then quickly went back to staring at the ground.

"You could, you know. I'll even be generous and give you a head start. It would be an easy way to use up some of the time." He stood back some distance away from her, as if to illustrate his words.

Sarah didn't move.

"No, you're too proud to run from me, aren't you?" he resumed his circling, hands held behind his back, head held high.

"But- it's more than that," he remarked in a silken voice, watching her carefully as he reached out with one hand and trailed two warm fingers slowly across her lower back. "You're curious." The fingers traveled over her side, and then her stomach as he passed in front of her.

"Aren't you?" he purred from behind her again, his breath teasing her neck.

"You want to know what I plan to do with you, how I might make you cry out."

She tried not to react, steeling herself as he continued to prowl around her, keeping his fingers on her the whole time. They burned a path around her midsection, and she felt an answering warmth grow within her.

"Hasn't anyone warned you about curiosity, little cat?" In front of her once more, his fingers ghosted up her stomach and over her chest, before catching under her chin and bringing her gaze up to meet his. She swallowed thickly, and he watched the motion of her throat with interest. Then, without warning, he bent down and kissed her there on her neck, right where her throat met her collarbone. She jumped and tried to move back, but he had already pulled away and was watching her now with a smirk.

She blushed, but found herself unable to look away.

He moved in slowly this time, inch by inch, closing the distance between them. His hands came to rest on her waist at the same time that his lips brushed lightly against her temple. When she made no move to push him away, he tightened his grip and moved his lips to press tenderly against the spot just under her ear. Sarah closed her eyes at the sensation, but opened them again before she could lose herself in the moment. He nipped at her ear, and she grit her teeth against the shock of pleasure that ran through her. She hugged herself tighter, keeping her hands tucked into her armpits. He began to kiss and suck gently on her neck, and she found herself unconsciously leaning her head slightly to one side to give him better access.

Pleased at her failure to resist, his hands and lips became more insistent; he moved his hands down to her hips and began making small circles on her thighs with his thumbs, and started nibbling on her collarbone. She felt the compulsion to lean back, and she did, to put her arms around him, but she stopped herself by gripping the lapels of his coat, though whether to push him away or pull him closer, she did not know.

A smug chuckle against her neck brought her back to reality. She pushed him away roughly, and stepped back with a scowl, glaring at him and clenching her fists at her sides.

Unfortunately, he seemed even more pleased by this than by her cooperation. He smirked at her lazily, and began working his gloves off, bit by bit.

"That's right, get good and mad. Tell me just what you think of me."

She huffed in frustration.

"I dare you," he teased, slowly pulling off one glove, and then the other. Sarah's eyes fixed on his long, pale fingers, entranced for some reason by his naked hands. There was something intimate and erotic about him taking off his gloves, and it got to her every time. He took a step towards her again, catching her hands when she brought them up to push him back. She tried to break free, but his grip was too strong; it was gentle, but unyielding. He held her hands there between them until she stilled, then slowly leaned forward and, with his eyes still fixed on hers, kissed the inside of her wrist with an open mouth, flicking his tongue out to taste her pulse point as he pulled back. He pulled the hand forward and set her palm on his chest, then repeated the action with her other hand. He let go of her wrists and stepped close to her again.

"Tell me to stop." he said in a low, sensual, teasing voice, his hands on her waist once more. "Tell me you don't want me to touch you."

It might have sounded like an impossible ultimatum, but Sarah could tell by the way he held himself back, by the way he drank in her flushed face and shallow breathing with calm poise, that this was his way of letting her know that he wouldn't take things too far, not if she wasn't willing. She knew from past dreams, that no matter how intense things got, no matter how aggressively he terrorized, threatened, or seduced her, all she had to do was turn her back on him, and he would let her go. All she had to do now was turn and walk away, (walk, not run, never run) and he wouldn't pursue her. She would wander for a few minutes, and then she would wake up, and that would be the end of it, for a time.

She considered this for a moment, eyes fixed on her hands and the silk and bare skin beneath them. He was so warm, so smooth. She ran her palms up and under his shirt to feel his strong shoulders, grinning with satisfaction when his breath hitched.

"Tell me to stop." he demanded. She looked up and stared at him thoughtfully, seeing that the teasing glint was completely gone from his eyes, and he watched her now with a sharp, serious expression. His hands stroked up and down her sides, but didn't wander too far. She reached up on her tippy-toes and kissed him chastely on the lips.

Something snapped in the air, and before she knew what was happening he had brought a hand to her lower back and pulled her flush against him, making her gasp. He took advantage of her open mouth and deepened the kiss, expertly stroking his tongue against hers in a way that made her have to swallow a moan.

His other hand combed through her hair, and she found herself becoming lost in the feel of him, the smell of him, the taste of him as he continued to kiss her passionately. She started to bring her arms up to wrap them around his neck, to bury her fingers in his silky hair, but she stopped herself just in time, fisting her hands in his shirt and yanking her head away from his hungry mouth.

He moved his lips to her neck without missing a beat, tasting and nipping at her in a way that turned her into jelly in his arms. Her gaze caught on the clock, and, seeing that only fifteen minutes had passed, she realized that things were moving too fast. She took a deep breath and pushed him away.

This time he was the one to huff in irritation, as he scowled at her and ran a hand through his hair. She was gratified to see that she wasn't the only one affected by the kiss.

Feeling a need to calm herself, she turned around and put her back to him and crossed her arms again, hoping that he would take the silent hint to give her a moment.

He didn't. Before she could regret her overconfidence, strong arms were wrapped around her middle and a hard male body was pressed up against her from behind.

"This is a piece of cake, is it?" he hissed in her ear, "Well then, how about upping the stakes?"

Before she could formulate a response her jeans were unbuttoned and one those long, bare fingers snaked beneath her underwear and was working her nub. She reacted entirely against her will, melting back into him and opening her mouth in a silent keen. HIs other hand held her tightly under her ribs to keep her upright, and his breath was ragged against her neck. The finger moved to tease her vulva, running back and forth across her opening several times before entering her. Sarah gasped and bit her lip, and found her arms uncrossed and her hands buried in his hair.

"Look at me." he commanded quietly, angling his head to better see her face.

She shook her head and looked away, closing her eyes and trying to keep her quickened breathing quiet.

Another finger entered her. "Look at me Sarah. I want to see you." he hooked his fingers inside her and began kneading her nub with his thumb, and she inhaled sharply and snapped her head towards him.

"Good girl."

He watched her for a moment with hooded eyes, and then seized her lips, mimicking with his tongue what he was doing with his fingers. Sarah kissed him back fiercely, glad her mouth was occupied and kept from making noise, but something tickled in the back of her mind, keeping her from enjoying it fully. This wasn't fair, she thought with a little smirk. She pulled one hand from his hair and reached back between them, cupping him in her hand and giving him a squeeze.

He hissed and pushed her away from him, only to seize her again and spin her around, crushing her front to hiss and kissing her heatedly as he walked her back and up against the wall. He ground his pelvis into hers and she bit back a moan at the hardness of him. She helped him remove his coat and shirt, then he bent quickly, tugging down her pants and underwear. She kicked off her shoes to help him and stifled a squeak as he gave her a sharp nip on her leg as he finished removing her pants. He stood, and she bit her lip at the hot feel of his hand on her bare thigh, lifting her leg up around his waist, and she wondered at the look of almost-tenderness that flickered in his eyes as he positioned himself, rubbing his head against her heated, ready entrance.

She wondered if he knew it was really her, hidden inside the body of his dream-Sarah. She was sure he didn't, and for some reason that made her unbearably sad. Such thoughts were forced from her mind, however, as he filled her in one slow, heavy stroke, and began to move within her, deep and strong.

Oh, what was this, this fire coursing through her veins, this exotic heat that pulsed rhythmically through her, scorching her very soul? Only he ever made her feel this way. Was that why all her relationships had failed? Was she subconsciously waiting for the turn of the season, for the next solstice, bidding her time until she could feel his touch again? Was she really choosing a dream over reality? No. Certainly not. That would be pathetic.

He moved within her, and everything else fell away.

After a few minutes he sped up his rhythm, pushing her into the wall with each thrust. She wrapped her arms around his neck so that she wasn't resting all her weight on the one leg, and bit down on her bicep to stifle a moan and quiet her noisy breathing.

"Say my name, Sarah." he demanded. She shook her head from side to side, though from pleasure or defiance, she couldn't tell.

"Say my name!" he growled, pounding into her. His thrusts were starting to lose their rhythm; he was nearing release.

"Say my name…" he gasped in a desperate and broken voice, one that grabbed and held Sarah's attention like nothing else had. Their eyes met, and for a moment there was an air of breathless expectancy, an inquisitive hopefulness, before Sarah looked away. He changed the angle of his thrusts so that his pubic bone pressed against her clitoris, and she melted into him. A powerful surge of pleasure rocked her senses, and she held her breath and bit her lip until it bled to keep from crying out as she came.

"Sarah…" he moaned. Feeling her clench around him, he gripped her hips painfully and drove into her one final time, burying his face in her neck as he gave her all he had.

They held each other as their breathing and heart rates slowed. Sarah was dazed from the effort of staying quiet, and almost missed his defeated sigh.

She braced herself against the wall as he pulled out and situated himself, looking disinterestedly at the ground. He grabbed his shirt and coat and gloves off the ground and put them on, still not looking at her. "If only you were really here, Sarah-mine. Oh what I would give to have you in truth." his words were barely audible, as if he was talking to himself. He waved a dismissive hand at her, and she suddenly realized that he was aware of this being a dream, and was trying to wake up. She resisted the compulsion to leave, to wake up, suddenly feeling as if she had missed something crucial.

When she didn't go right away, he looked up and stared at her for a moment in confusion, and she met his gaze with a similar expression. His face went from bafflement to denial to furious disbelief.

"Sarah?"

Her eyes widened and she opened her mouth to speak, but before she could say a word, everything faded to black.

Author's note:

Well, you asked for it. There will be one more part to this little pwp, but I can't say when. If you see any typos please pm me about them. Hope you enjoyed!