Chapter Five: Kinks.

Clarence Welchek was a hard worker who spent most of her time in the bowels of the library making sure that their archiving system was accurate and that all their files were in order. She was sensitive to small details, always careful with her work, and performed her job with an ease that made her invaluable. For all her care and brilliant organization, though, she had one major character flaw: Clarence Welchek was a voracious gossip. She was never malicious about the rumors she heard or passed on, and most of her co-workers assumed that she had developed the habit because of how far she was removed from the rest of the staff during daily work, but the fact remained that the woman could be a downright nuisance when she wasn't hidden between her immaculate filing cabinets.

As Sarah stared at the elegant, matronly redhead that had her eyes glued to Jareth in a dumbstruck expression, she pictured all the horror stories that would likely spread throughout the entire library infrastructure before lunch was out. Sarah Williams did not date—it was a widely known fact among the librarians and archivists—she didn't date, she didn't flirt, and she wasn't married; as far as they were concerned, she was the obligatory asexual bookworm that every library hired, the frigid schoolmarm who had been burned enough that she was too scared to try anymore. Clarence was about to change that, as soon as she regained control of herself, and there would be no stopping the rumors that rushed out of this one. Any second now, she thought with dread…

"Sweetheart," Clarence beamed with a smile, "it's about time you found yourself a gentleman friend. Who is this fine young man of yours?"

Gentleman friend? Fine young man? Were they even looking at the same person, Sarah thought in bewilderment. Jareth was drenched from head to foot in dark colors and, while the clothing style was modern, they molded around him in just such a way to suggest that they were tailored to him. With his pale skin and hair, coupled with the devilish look around his eyes, he looked more like a renegade actor than a gentleman. Fine young man was a misnomer as well, unless she had meant fine in the context of his physique. Granted, he was no longer wearing the aggressive-male leather ensemble, but he looked no more wholesome out of it than he had in it; after all, it was the man that commanded the presence, not the clothes.

"Don't misunderstand, Clarence; Jareth and I are not seeing each other," Sarah hastened to explain, digging an elbow into his side in an effort to both cut off an argument and to get away from him.

But Jareth was unmoved by her abuse to his ribs, he simply pulled her closer to him, gave the older woman his best bad boy smile and said, "You'd think that after nearly ten years she wouldn't be so shy anymore."

"Ten years? Goodness," Clarence twittered, then turned a shaking finger on Sarah, "and no one had the slightest clue, you naughty girl!"

"Ten years?" Sarah asked in a dark voice once her misled co-worker hustled back to her own job, apparently having forgotten whatever it was she had needed in the stacks after having been presented with such juicy gossip.

Jareth plucked the book from her clenching fingers and carelessly placed it on the shelf behind them—which really galled her because he managed to put it in the correct place without even looking—and shrugged as he gently unclenched her hands. "It was when you ran the Labyrinth," he explained. "Technically, I've been seeing you your whole life, but there was no point in getting complicated with it."

"Do you realize what you've just done?" she asked heatedly, trying to ignore the careful, nearly tender way he was uncurling her firsts and lacing their fingers together. "Clarence is probably tripping all over herself to get to the backroom where she'll promptly inform everyone that innocent little Sarah isn't as innocent as she seems."

"You aren't as innocent as you seem," he replied, something unreadable flashing through his crystalline eyes.

"We never had sex," Sarah hissed quietly, leveling her best glare at him.

A smile quirked at his lips as he brought their linked hands behind her back, using the leverage to press her tightly to his chest. "Not for lack of trying, love," he whispered ruthlessly against her ear, "we were just always interrupted. Or is that something that something you've conveniently chosen to forget?"

Jareth's voice, coupled with the ghostly brushes of his lips against the sensitive skin of her ear, had shivers practically convulsing down her spine. His scent enveloped her, distracting her with the spicy maleness that she had refused to remember over the past few years. More enticing that that, however, was the lighter fragrance that somehow wove itself around him; funny, really, because she automatically associated Jareth with peaches, but he had always smelled faintly of apples. Come to think of it, apples had featured rather prominently in the cuisine at Castle Aryn, and she had read something once about apples being in the numerous myths about the Others, so perhaps it was simply part of who he was. She didn't know, she didn't particularly care; the scent was pervasive and downright enchanting.

He was talking about their sex life, or lack thereof, and she couldn't escape the fact that he was right. They had almost known each other in the biblical sense on more than one occasion and the only thing that had stopped them had been the countless interruptions by others—from Toby to Oran and nearly everyone in between. As a matter of fact, out of all the times they had found themselves in sexual situations she had only managed to say no to him on three occasions: the first had been when they had been trying to reach a compromise on the contract after Jareth had decided to pose as her boyfriend, and had been trying to use a lustful stupor to his advantage during negotiations; the second time had been during the heinous run through the labyrinth of his heart, at the end of the their relations five years ago, and she had been damn close to giving in after he had started to command the magic within her into some kind of wicked aphrodisiac; the third time had been last night, and Sarah was beginning to realize that it wasn't so much her strong will that had let her pull it off as it had simply been shock. Really, when she thought about it, shock had been the key factor in all three situations; she was, by no means, immune to the man and had only resisted jumping his bones by the skin of her teeth.

Sarah shifted uncomfortably within his grasp, suddenly aware that, just as her thoughts had drifted southward, so too had her pulse. She was hyperaware of the hard male body plastered against her, and only too humanly curious about what she had missed out on during their previous time together.

"She's going to tell everyone that we're dating! Hell, ten years is tantamount to engagement!" she carefully ignored the bait Jareth had set out, hoping to diffuse the sudden sexual tension because she knew it was too much too soon. Less than twenty-four hours ago she had been grieving over what she had done to the man, she couldn't turn around and jump right into bed with a part of him, not before she had any idea of what was going on.

He pulled back and flashed her one of those mocking smiles that said he knew she was avoiding the real subject. "I certainly hope so," he replied. "Boyfriend or fiancé sounds much better than stalking admirer."

"You are not staying," she began.

But he cut her off with a smooth, "I beg to differ."

And, as luck would have it, just as she had been about to launch into an argument, a curious fellow librarian had poked her head around the shelves, reminding Sarah that they were conducting their verbal tango in an all too public place, in an all too intimate position.

Imm quietly snickered while Laim chocked on a chuckle. Valiantly they tried to shush each other, but eye contact only made the laughter harder to control. Sarah was stiffly seated at the front desk, surrounded by a small circle of curious co-workers and their brother, who, typical to Jareth fashion, was playing up the situation for all it was worth. Jareth looked like he had died and gone to heaven while Sarah looked like she was barely restraining the urge to strangle him.

It was times like this that the Twins both conceded they probably should have been paying more attention to Jareth when he had been teaching them about viewing crystals, for neither one of them had ever mastered the skill. Being seen right now would definitely raise suspicions. Still, there was a certain amount of satisfaction that came with being able to view their work in person, and disguises worked just fine for such a purpose. Besides, their presence wasn't entirely for pleasure, anyway. The Twins had a plan and a schedule to keep; if things went their way, Sarah would be back Underground before the month was out. It was a tricky game though; they had to dance around both Sarah and Jareth, while still pulling the strings. The teenage boy that they had sent over to attract Jareth's attention had just been the beginning; the gossip-woman had been an added benefit. Their brother would play the part of the watchful, exasperating boyfriend, if for no other reason than to annoy Sarah, but Imm and Laim would make sure that it stopped being a game for him in no time at all. In short order he'd become wary, then angry, and an angry Jareth tended to react with all the fierce possessiveness of a wild animal.

And, in the end, that was exactly what they wanted.

"I can't believe you," Sarah fumed as she stomped into her apartment that night, Jareth close at her heels. "You can't just expect to pick things up where we left off, but no, you waltz in and it's suddenly like five years never passed! We're right back where we started: you've got your own agenda and I don't trust you. But I've got news for you, Jareth: five years have passed, I've got a massive guilt complex on top of my distrust, and you trying to get into my pants isn't going to help matters."

"Perhaps not," Jareth agreed, leaning against the back of her sofa as she paced between the living room and the kitchen, "but you have to agree that it would make things infinitely more interesting."

She gave an exasperated shake of her head. "Now everyone at the library thinks I've got some kind of bad boy kink-"

"You do have a bad boy kink," he interrupted her calmly, "otherwise we wouldn't be having this conversation."

Jareth leaned gingerly against the devil-sofa, ready to take evasive action should the upholstery of evil suddenly develop a will of its own from the pent-up magical energy that filled the tiny apartment. The more agitated Sarah became the more magic seemed to simply roll off her. Then again, he would bet that the last time she had ever made use of her magic had been retrieving the Orb of Command from the stone imp in Castle Aryn, which, like everything else, had been five years ago. Five years of ignoring her own power while, steadily but surely, the locks and barriers that had kept it hidden were breaking away. Everyday she would have just a little bit more magic at her fingertips and she wasn't using any of it. At the rate she was going, he was surprised that her refrigerator hadn't decided it wanted to be a wardrobe or that her books weren't trying to fly away like birds.

"I do not," Sarah argued defensively, bringing his thoughts back to the conversation at hand.

He snorted. "I could put the leather back on, you know." Jareth stood and slowly stalked Sarah until he had her cornered against a wall. He didn't lean into her, didn't trap her with his body, left—for all intents and purposes—what could have been considered a mildly respectable distance between them. "Would your pulse race, Sarah? Would your knees wobble and your mouth go dry?" He stepped a little closer. "It excites you, doesn't it? Some primitive part of you is absolutely in love with the image of danger and adventure." They were almost toe-to-toe now. "Or perhaps," he murmured, leaning closer while his fingers trailed softly over her jaw, "the truth is that it isn't the leather you love, so much as it's the man wearing it. You only have a bad boy kink because it's part of a larger fixation; you only like the bad boy because I'm a bad boy and, let's face it darling, you definitely have a Jareth kink."

And with that said, he stepped away from her, moving toward the kitchen.

Sarah watched him until he was out of sight. She stood dumbly against the wall, not sure if she was angry at Jareth for what he had said or for the fact that she had wanted him to kiss her and he hadn't. That wanting, in itself, was proof that what he had said was true; her life would a lot less complicated it she didn't have a Jareth kink, and she fought it tooth and nail but the fact of the matter was that it was always there no matter what she did.

Now certainly wasn't the time to reflect on that matter, though. Jareth was, once again, ruthlessly destroying the careful structure of her life and, while she could admit that she often looked forward to their verbal sparring, she had to save something of her life, if only for the simple preservation of her sanity. A man like him could drive a woman insane in more ways than one, and they had a lot of problems to work out, both past and present.

A clanking sound from the kitchen drew Sarah's attention, and she left the support of her wall to see what exactly her uninvited guest was doing. "I can cook, you know," she said after watching him putter around her tiny kitchen for a few minutes. Though Jareth had cooked for her in the past, this was a younger version who had probably been waited on his entire life, and that thought made her a little edgy.

He hummed noncommittally while turning knobs and pressing buttons in no apparent order for no apparent reason. "You'll have to forgive a man for being a tad leery," Jareth finally replied after a few seconds, "but I did hear the Twins call you The Destroyer of Stoves."

"How?" she asked confusedly. "You weren't even there!"

He set something to boil on the stovetop and, without even turning around, expertly tapped an elegant finger against the amulet that was hidden under her blouse. "You forget, dear," he tapped again, "that, in a sense, I've always been there."

"That's something we need to talk about, by the way," she grumped, trying to ignore how her heart wanted to flutter when his hand was so close to making intimate gestures, "you always being there. You can't come to work with me."

Something bready had magically found its way into the oven, because he was opening the small door as he replied, "Again, I beg to differ."

"You're only going to cause trouble for me," Sarah groaned in frustration.

He chuckled. "I know; that's the perk of being a boyfriend."

"We aren't dating," she half shouted.

"You seem to be the only person of that opinion," Jareth replied carelessly. "If might truly makes right, then sheer popular vote alone makes you dead wrong, dearest."

She let out a frustrated little shout. "God, I knew you were going to drive me insane!"

"Besides," he carried on as though she hadn't spoken, "you don't exactly have a choice in this. The Twins gave me most of the amulet's power, so if you expect to keep breathing in the future, I sort of have to be around."

"You know, amazingly," she snapped, "I don't believe you."

He actually looked at her then, a long considering stare that looked just a touch angry. But, when he replied, his tone was as careless as usual. "Believe what you will, but sooner or later the truth will slap you in the face."

A/N: I've been on a reading kick lately, rabidly devouring any Linda Howard, Lora Leigh, or Shelley Laurenston book I can get my hands on. (Mostly Linda Howard, since she's the only one of those three authors that my library actually seems to have; I highly recommend her books, by the way, she has a wry sense of humor and a very clean style of narration.) I got lost between the pages of my innumerable library checkouts, so I apologize for not getting an update to you guys sooner.

On a more technical note, I've had a couple of people complain about my use of italics. I apologize if it bothers you but, for the sake of continuity, I simply can't stop doing it this far into the story. If you find it distracting to the point that you can no longer enjoy the story, then you can go to my deviantart page (where I am also know as Ergott) where my stories are posted with absolutely no italics because I am apparently challenged when it comes to html formatting. Sorry for the inconvenience.

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Disclaimer: I own the miscellany of this story. Everything else pretty much belongs to Henson.