A/N: So I get these dialogues that just start and run on their own momentum in my head. I was thinking of taking Contact and asking for reader feedback as to where to take it next, so here I am. I'm curious to read ppl's reactions and suggestions, so please do review if you get the chance! It would make me quite happy. I personally suggest some Muse 'Supermassive Black Hole' if you haven't already indulged.
Sarah was minding her own business, or at least she thought she was. Apparently not. Startled from her solitary spacing by the sound of air hissing brusquely behind her, another more familiar sound made her toes curl with a distinct mixture of surprise, apprehension, irritation and pleasure. Indeed, she had the luxury of counting all four affectations in her soul in the short time it took for the Goblin King to utter these words:
"You called me your adversary."
She didn't have to turn around. In less than a second, the voice was in front of her, clearly anchored in the throat of rather charming if not slightly unorthodox looking slip of man.
"I'm not your adversary," he articulated as if to correct a slightly skewed conclusion. Sarah could feel her face flush at his brazen row of pointed teeth.
"What are you then?" Still seated, she pushed her papers away and folded her hands together in front of her.
"A friend." The grin pasted under his cheekbones made the blood rush beneath her skin. She wondered if he could observe her body subtly betray any sense of false composure she might like to convey.
"Ah, the ambivalent ambiguities spawned from disingenuous fruits of false lovers' trysts!" Sometimes Sarah felt like a trumpet bell without a mute. This time she waxed a touch prideful at her wittily provocative outburst, give or take a few ounces of self-consciousness. Of course he always managed to press directly on those quivering, vulnerable threads of ego hanging taut between heart and tongue.
"By God, Sarah, apart from being entirely too prolix, you've managed to further blemish those rosebud lips with a shamelessly uncalled for personal attack."
"Well, it would be well deserved I'd imagine. But then, who said anything about your royal highness? Still think it's all about you, huh?"
"Denying the obvious implications makes you just as bad as me." Jareth seemed quite comfortable standing in the middle of her room now. Sarah could almost detect a hint of triumph in the set of his hips, if she let herself eye his limber frame long enough.
"…and that makes us friends?" She lanced an exaggerated quizzical stare at his shoulders. Looking him dead in the eye would just make her get all weak in the stomach anyway—no point in that!
"Something of that ilk." She'd forgotten the luxuriant richness of his voice. How it was almost a caress when he made it to be.
"Be gone, imp," she pronounced with a roll of her eyes.
"Say the magic word." His refusal to budge at her dismissal caught her off guard.
"Dance, oh wait, please," she drawled facetiously. He took a few steps toward her.
"Wait, Sarah," his tone suddenly more serious, face sobered and sloughing mirth, "Let me give you this…"
"Give me what?" He loved the way her eyes sparkled with uncertainty as she questioned him. Yes, it would be entirely worth it, Jareth congratulated himself.
"A kiss, nothing more…"
Sarah's face turned beet red. And he'd inched in close again, the way he always managed to do.
"A kiss…?" she swallowed hard, trying to keep her larynx from shriveling.
"And if you hold me this way," he purred as his hands snaked around her waist, "I'll show you your dreams." Already she could barely contain herself. He let the front of his body gently insinuate its warmth and contour, keeping his touch light, suggestive, yet unmistakably deliberate.
He felt her shiver between his fingers as he brought his mouth against hers. She shoved just as their lips made contact. But it was too late, the sensation of their moist flesh joining outdid Sarah. And Jareth was not about to let go at this point without avid verbal prompting. In fact even then… Of course, cohercion was far from either's mind. Upon his second tender lunge of lips, Sarah's once balled fists melted against his chest, sliding their way up to curl around his neck.
The moment of sweetness lingered, peaked and finally passed. He released her from the spell he'd been meticulously weaving in her heart.
"Some friend you are," she stated breathlessly, eyeing him with a note of suspicion and a shade of good humor. He could she was ready to laugh at herself—at how easily she'd been snagged and drawn into his little passion play.
"I hoped you might like me."