Chapter 35.
"Baron, this is all too much." Bryn seated on the floor surrounded by the remains of gaily wrapped gifts.
Devon, smiling moved down from his chair to the floor to sit beside the overwhelmed young woman. "You like the gifts?" Her excitement was pleasing to him.
"Of course I do," she gushed happily as she looked about the room once more. It could have come straight from the pages of a Dickens novel. "What girl wouldn't?" She could not help but be impressed by the lengths he'd gone to in insuring her happiness. He had spared no expense, not in the out lay of well thought out gifts, nor in the use of magic to produce an ever living Yuletide tree. Clearly something he planned on needing for a long time to come. Yet all this wonder and magic didn't prevent Bryn from becoming a little melancholy. "But I've no gift for you."
"You wish to give me something?" He ventured.
"I wish I could, yes. But I have no money of my own, and I'm here as …" The red haired girl frowned.
"As my guest, Bryn, as my guest," he insisted.
Bryn placed finger tips to the lips of the gallant Fae. "Let us not tell half truths to each other, Baron. I'm a prisoner, from a war that never should have gotten started."
"Bryn," he murmured against her fingers. "I don't treat you like a prisoner, do I?"
"No," she agreed. "You don't."
"Do any of my servants?" He asked. She shook her head, and he went on. "In time, you will be a citizen of this Kingdom. Your life, as you once knew it, is over; that is true. However, your future could be full and wonderful."
Bryn looked at him, there was no way she could not have noticed how handsome he was, and how attentive. "Is this a new ploy in your campaign to lure me into your bed, Baron?"
Devon looked wounded, "Bryn," he gasped.
Angry with herself for the thoughtlessness she'd just displayed, she sighed. "I'm sorry, Devon, you didn't deserve that."
"Bryn, I know that you are…hurting." He touched her face with only the tips of his fingers. "I know that this is a season that should be shared with family, just as we Fae celebrate Solstice with family."
The young woman looked at all the gifts laid out about her. "These are all thoughtful gifts, Devon. Really they are." She looked at him and whispered. "Four days ago, I was dressed like a princess in the High King's courts, and today you treat me like the queen of this house. But," she lowered her voice, fearful of what she had to say next. "I can't see my family, I can't go home… and I can't even see Sarah."
Devon had not thought about Sarah. "I don't think that the King would allow such a visit, no."
"I am grateful to you, Devon." Bryn stood up fearing unwanted tears were about to fall. "I wish there was something, some way, I could repay you."
Devon also stood, not caring if he stepped on something or not, he moved forward and placed his hands on her shoulders. "Stop thinking of me as your keeper, Bryn," he begged. "I want to be so much more." He moved closer, placed one hand gently under her chin and lifted it upward. "I could be so much more."
Bryn, who had been resisting his attraction, took a deep breath, took hold of his lapels and pulled him forward. She kissed him with more force than she'd ever known she had within her. The man shivered and moaned softly, then placed his arms about her, reveling in this moment. Releasing his lapels, she looked at him with conviction. "I'm not jumping into your bed, Devon."
"No," he agreed with a broad smile, "However, if I'm any judge, by that last kiss Bryn, you may be waltzing there soon enough." He gathered handfuls of her hair. "I can wait," he promised.
"That's nice to know," she sighed.
--
Sarah, after fleeing the scribe's rooms, moved swiftly up to the western wing and the rooms she'd been trained in by the Master of the Guild. She paced, first quietly, and then it became more and more frenzied and turbulent. In the back of her throat, a sound was building with each step until she could bear it no longer; then she tossed back her head and howled.
Jareth had just entered the wing; he closed the heavy door and barred it, so that no one could disturb them. "Quiet the display, Sarah." He commented as he moved to join her in the center of the large and seemingly empty space.
"You marked me," she growled, fire in her eyes and her entire being at attention.
"Yes," he commented as if agreeing on the weather taking a turn. He looked at her; she was so high strung, looking like she was ready for a battle; "What of it?"
"What game are you playing, Goblin King?" She demanded.
"One in which there will be no winner," he growled back.
Sarah looked at him; angry as she was, she could not ignore the fact that he was one of very few beings whose touch she could bear. And right now, she wanted him to touch her. "You're an arrogant bastard," she growled thinking how good his hands would feel caressing her.
"I can be," he agreed with a smirk. Jareth could read her, her scent had changed the moment he'd entered the chamber, and he was well aware of his effect on her. She was angry, yes; but she was also aroused and he was certain that his presence had a great deal to do with that fact.
The brooding girl turned away, held her arms tightly and stomped a foot. "It's not fair!" she wailed as she tried to fight the need that was overpowering reason. She looked at their reflections in the full length mirror against the fall she was now facing.
Moving to stand directly behind her, he moved one hand slowly up her arm. "No, it's not," he agreed smoothly.
She shivered as his fingers grazed her, "I hate you."
"Do you?" He whispered at her ear, "Do you Sarah? Or do you merely wish to because it's easier than dealing with it?" Jareth's presence affected Sarah, and he anticipated the desired effect that it would cause.
Once more, his hand moved down her arm. She shivered and turned slightly, but her eyes met his in the mirror and she could not mistake the look on his smug face. "Two can play that game, you know," she warned. She leaned back, ever so slightly, her rounded bottom coming into contact with his body. Gently she made a sideways sashay, drawing a hiss from the lips of the King.
"O-o-o-o-o, low blow, Sarah!" He groaned. "That's hitting below the belt."
She raised her chin, defiantly and playfully challenged. "Deal with it."
Taking a long breath, the scent of her hair filled his senses; he placed his other hand to her bottom and patted her fanny. It was possessive and aggressive and both were responding to the new game being played out. "Oh, I plan to deal with it, Sarah." He gave her the same arrogant gaze he'd delivered in the Crystal Ballroom in what now seemed a lifetime ago.
"Sarah? Not Tagaan or Rhuukarlaan?" She asked; her eyes watching his lips in the mirror as she moved her bottom against his hand. A few more moments and she knew she'd be purring like a kitten.
"I'm in a generous mood," he toyed with her as his hand on her arm moved upward toward her neck. "Are you?"
The shiver became deeper; more of a shudder and it coursed through her causing her to feel warm. Her nipples were hardening and the rings were constraining against the fabric of her gown. "Perhaps," she teased, tilting her head to give him better access to her throat. "What did you have in mind?" Her eyes were becoming dreamy.
Tugging lightly on her ear lobe, he waited until she looked at the mirror and he had her full attention. "How hot does one need to get you to get that mouth of yours in gear?" He growled in her ear with a hint of excitement.
Her face registered disappointment, taking a few steps forward she moved her bottom out of his reach. "Not interested." She replied coldly.
Challenged and desiring what he wanted, Jareth followed her forward to whisper at her ear, keeping his eyes on her face in the mirror in front of them. "I could make it worth your while." This time he kept his hands to himself, only letting his breath touch her.
Sarah looked in the mirror, knowing he was too confident. "Who's delivering low blows now, Jareth?" She pouted, touching her arms lightly as she crossed them.
His eyes sparkled; she was interested, even if she didn't wish to be. Lightly he pursed his lips and softly blew into her ear, she shivered and gasped. "Just wondering how much fanning your flames actually need." He teased, waiting to see if she were going to try stepping away. She didn't, and he looked into the mirror, daring her to a contest of wills. He could hear her breathing change, and her scent growing stronger. He slowed his own respiration, and concentrated on her her entire body was on edge. Just letting his eyes take their time in raking over her in the mirror, he knew she was beginning to respond.
It started as a maddening tingling in her nipples, and there was goose flesh dancing up and down her arms and playing chutes and ladders with her spine. She liked his eyes raking over her, even if she didn't want to admit it; it thrilled her to have him want her. She swallowed slowly as his eyes once more met hers in the mirror. This time he used the tip of his tongue to lick the outline of his upper lip. 'Bastard,' she thought to herself as she felt the warmth gathering in her lower regions.
Leisurely, the man moved to stand beside her, so that she could see his body. His eyes watched her eyes take him, all of him, in. From his new scrupled hair style, to the tip of his leather booted toe. His garments had never hidden much, and they didn't hide anything from her vision now. He was proud of his physical prowess, not vainly so, but enough that he knew she was attracted. He could see her lower her gaze to the pronounced bulge that was ever present. He didn't have to do anything, not even thrust his hips forward. All he did was stand beside her, facing the mirror and watching.
Sarah knew she could not keep up the pretences; Sarah had needs, needs that led her to whisper, "Please."
Jareth, eyes still on the mirror and the girl trying to resist, responded with a calm, "Yes, Sarah. Please what?"
In the barest of whispers, she answered. "Touch me." Green eyes looked intently into the stormy ones watching in the reflection. The silent appeal went unanswered for a moment.
Still watching the mirror, slightly smirking, he replied. "Pardon, I didn't quite hear that. What was that?"
Sarah finally turned around, lust driven, blurting out, "Touch me. Fuck me. I'm yours, we both know that. Why do you have to tease me so?" She had not meant for it to sound so desperate, but she was longing just to feel someone's touch, and knew it could only be his.
Jareth took one step to move slightly behind her. "Oh, I didn't think I was teasing you, Sarah. Not even toying with you really." His fingers migrated slowly up toward her, lightly touching her arm, moving up to her shoulder. "Do you want me?" He whispered cagily. She shuddered more violently as a throaty moan surfaced and escaped her lips. "Oh, dear me Sarah, I see that you do. And here I am, not even fully hard." He was standing at an angle; his eyes went to the mirror meeting hers. "Care to help me out here, Sarah? Would you like me hard?" Her breath caught in her throat, and she was panting at this point. "As hard as when you received your training harness?" He made the suggestion sound Devine.
A little memory of that first experience surfaced. She looked into the mirror, remembering what happened in the Throne Room. "Yes, as hard as that," she answered throatily. Wicked thoughts entered her head as she said in a husky voice, "I think I have a pretty good idea of what you want, Sire."
"I get what I want, you get what you need," he promised in a sultry tone.
"Where?" she asked wondering how long he planned on prolonging her torture this time.
"Here," he said, knowing she was plotting a way around giving him what he desired.
Sarah looked at him in the mirror, "As you wish," she conceded.
Slowly she turned to face him; he shifted so he was now a profile in the mirror. "On your knees to your King," he teased. As she lowered herself to kneel before him, he snuck a look in the mirror, and wished he'd thought to set up a crystal to capture the moment. "You may begin," he said watching the reflection.
"You wish me to…" she stared at his breeches, wondering just how they stayed up.
"The drawstring is within your reach," he said coyly. "Use your left hand." He commanded, keeping watch in the mirror.
Sarah understood; he was not only going to receive what he wanted, but was going to have the pleasure of watching in the mirror. Her left hand gave him an unobstructed view. Her lips pursed into a wicked little simper as a plan began to formulate in her lusty mind. He wanted a show; she'd give him a show, one he'd never forget. Leaning back and arching her back ever so slightly, she reached forward with her left hand. Finding the drawstring with ease, she tugged gently, and watched it give way. His slender hips were first to be undraped, as the breeches floated away from him with only gravity pulling at them. Taking her time, she now leaned forward to nuzzle the caged beast now soaring upward to stand at attention. Her cheek touched the cage, and she moved so her face rubbed over the length of the metal cock-ring. He had coerced her into this arrangement of fellatio, but she's going to tease him as badly as he just teased her. She was going to get a bit of payback.
She flicked her tongue at the coil as the cage and its prisoner were now angled over her face. Starting with a chaste kiss on the tip, she then let her tongue then dart out. She used the tip of her tongue to trace the coil around his cock and balls, always mindful to keep it so he was getting a complete view. She then worked her way back up to the tip of the coil and his bulbous cock head. She swirled her tongue over the rounded tip and heard him moan. Sarah smiled.
Leaning back on her heels, she teased the tip of his cock as she reached up skillfully behind her back, and loosened her gown. It was time to turn up the heat, Sarah did so by taking her breasts out of the top of her gown and playing with the nipples herself. Shrugging out of the top of the gown was easier than removing some of the costumes she'd worn on stage. Her nipple rings now stood out, she took one last long lick down to the base of his balls before she worked her way upward opening her mouth and accepting the cage into her maw.
Jareth watched as she began to play with her nipples, gently at first, then a little rougher. He bent his knees slightly, not only to give her a better angel, but to brace himself for the hip thrusts he was going to deliver to her. The feel of her mouth bathing him, and the vision in the mirror, were driving him to distraction. His right hand came down to caress the crown of her head. "That's it, Sarah." He praised with a throaty laugh. "Get me good and hard."
Her left hand moved up, sliding along his right arm, from the wrist to the elbow and down again. Her mouth was open wide, and he was getting harder. She arched her back, as she began to move back and forth over the caged beast. Her hips began to move in a gentle rolling motion. She closed her eyes, and played with her upturned breasts. With his hand still caressing the back of her head, she began to moan softly over his hardening member. Her hands began to cup her breasts, gently messaging and kneading them as she moaned. All the while, Jareth was watching in the mirror.
He looked down at the face that was paying lip service to his cock. It was not enough, and he wanted more. He pulled his cock from her mouth roughly; his right hand was still in her coils of hair. Forcefully he thrust her backward, and she collapsed on the floor panting, and protesting that she wasn't done. Violently he grabbed hold of the hem of her dress, and rendered it a rag with one brutal tear. Sarah rolled to her side, pouting thinking he was going to leave her without release. He reached forward, and the beautiful gown was torn off her body, leaving her naked to his view. She didn't protest, knowing he was not done with her.
"You call this hard, Sarah? Why, I wouldn't offer this to my maiden great aunt." He taunted. "You'll have to get me much harder if you want me to do any good."
"Perhaps your Majesty is too tired…" she taunted in return. "Why don't you lie down?" She grabbed hold of the waistband of his breeches and yanked them forward. "You look like you could use a rest." She yanked again harder.
"I know you're not done." He growled as he was pulled off balance. "I just want to get comfortable and enjoy the view while I'm at it." He landed beside her on the ground; he looked sideways to find himself alongside the mirror. "Perhaps you're too tired," he suggested watching the reflection of her backside to the mirror. "If this is the best you can do."
Sarah tossed back the hair from her face, and growled like a lioness. "Oh,yeah? Well, I've not even begun to start working you over yet, Fairy boy."
Jareth smiled watching her lunge forward to attack his prong once more. As her mouth lowered over his caged member he turned to the mirror, her body blocked his view. He rose up on his elbows. "I can't properly see what you're doing," he muttered frustrated at being blocked. "Move, Sarah."
In her sexual frenzy, and not wishing to be deprived of the orgasm, she repositioned herself over his face, still blocking his view, but offering him one of his own. "I think that view will be more to your liking," she said as she went down again on him. she continued to tease him by not dropping her hips low enough for him to taste her, then by moving them up and down playfully, driving herself wild with need and him in frustration.
Jareth grabbed at her hips, muttering. "Two can play this game as well, Sarah." His tongue connected with the engorged nub of her clitoris. At first, he was intent on teaching her a lesson, but it changed swiftly as her wet slickness moved over his tongue. Hungrily he moved his mouth over her, licking, flicking, and sucking. Her hips grinding to his face as she rocked to and fro. He could feel the building up in his balls, and he rolled, knocking her off with a cry like a banshee.
Jareth swung his legs and somehow managed to pry her legs around his so that he was looking down at her face and he was between her legs. He had to grab her wrists to hold her down, while she hissed, spat, and growled at him like a cat in heat. She arched her back while trying to claw; nevertheless all she did was frustrate herself. She was violent and primitive, and he wanted her more than he'd ever wanted anything. Savagely he thrust forward, burying himself within her from tip to hilt. Her legs wound over his hips as his mouth met hers in a savage kiss that was brutal and all consuming. She shattered only when he exploded within her, collapsing into a heap beneath him.
Jareth lay still for a moment, not certain he was still breathing. He licked his lips, moved his head slightly, and met her eyes. Wordlessly he began to smile and then snicker until he was laughing as he clung to the woman within whom he was still sheathed; "Not bad, Sarah, not bad."
Beneath him, she snickered as well. "You're not too shabby yourself there, you big Fairy."
Rolling to his side, he kept one hand draped over her. "Conniving little witch," he teased.
"Over confident cheat," she rolled to her side, facing him.
Jareth's slow smile worked its way up to his eyes. "But satisfying, am I not?"
"You're going to break your arm," she quipped softly. "Patting your-self on the back like that."
His draped arm moved so his hand could cup her fanny. "I'd rather pat your backside any day."
Hunger flared again in her. "Fuck me," she whispered. "Fuck me again."
Rolling to take possession of her, Jareth paused, ever so briefly, intent on gloating and enjoying the victory. Seeing the want and need in her eyes, he instead murmured, "With pleasure…Sarah." His body joined with hers, this time unhurriedly. He moved slowly, wanting to savor the pleasure of being the only man whom Sarah would ever bear touching her. "Sarah," he moaned softly before his lips took hers.