A/N: Howdy folks! Summer is upon us and the kidlets are roaming around the house - this translates to less writing time and more chasing said kidlets. In other news: I think I might need a beta... anyone interested? This story has taken an unusual turn for me. Yeah, OOC, blah blah blah... but now, they're slumming it in this chapter. Trust me, as much as I used to LOVE the bacon and cheese potato wedges... they're slumming it. lol As usual, enjoy... Read, review, and torch me ...err PM me, I mean, with good ideas... constructive criticism... ya know, the good stuff. Muah! :D
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Jareth licked his lips and dove towards her.
Sarah briefly panicked as she blinked owlishly; think, think! Client clause isn't enough for him and I really can't afford to lose my business. Oh but those lips... and that large, lovely cock to grind into. Shite, think Sarah!
An out presented itself in the form of his crotch – as usual.
Oh God forgive me...
"Shite!" he screeched in falsetto, curled in on himself. Jareth lay in his fallen glittery glory on the floor once again, in the fetal position. He was shaking from the pain inflicted on his groin – again."Woman, just say 'no' next time instead of manhandling me," he whispered painfully with his eyes closed, arms wrapped around himself.
Sarah kneeled over him, once again adjusting her bodice by pulling it up as far as it would go; "I did say no, your highness. I only tapped your junk again to slow you down – not permanently damage you!" she huffed, and stood. "You're being a baby. Get up. I didn't knee you that hard this time." Sarah nudged at his prone body with her foot. "C'mon, Goblin King."
Jareth debated whether to squeeze out some 'crocodile tears' as humans called them. He wanted her sympathy, he wanted her lust, her desire for him to burn out of control – as his had for her. But this woman, this Sarah Williams, was so different than what he had expected. She was no longer some malleable, foolish girl. She would stand up to him, stalk him and turn around to reject him, but still be lovely enough to kiss him into oblivion before she unmanned him because he didn't take her response seriously enough. So much for him finishing what they started. At least for tonight, he would withdraw, regroup, and attack with a new strategy tomorrow. A few surprises more were in store for her yet.
He slowly unfurled his lithe frame from the floor and hunched over, moved to the bed. His head in his hands, appearing defeated; he sighed deeply. Jareth peeked through his fingers to look up at Sarah's guilty expression as she watched him observing her. Then she turned and picked up the ice bag again to refill it from the compact in-suite ice machine, and handed it back to him.
The clunking sound of the ice within the bag filled the room as Jareth cautiously placed it back on his still throbbing – and not in a good way – cock. The pain had subsided enough to think clearly.
"Sarah -"
"I'm sorry for causing you more pain." Soft, sincere, her voice flowed soothingly over his nerves.
"Oh...alright." Bored.
"Aren't you sorry for not stopping? You know, when I said we shouldn't go on?" She huffed indignantly.
"Not a bit, Precious. Just goes to show us both you can handle me well enough." Smug. "And that you fancy me enough to forget yourself and just be with me. Well, until contracts come into it all. And I now know you taste like a sweet, succulent fruit. Mmm..." Cocky and confident, he moved to lay back on the bed, the ice bag still settled in his groin.
Sarah paced, barely a whisper, "You taste like candied pears." Her flushed face unseen by Jareth; he had his eyes on the ceiling and was counting sparkles in the ceiling finish as the last remnants of discomfort in his crotch subsided.
"Makes me wonder what your sweet quim tastes like, Sarah. Is it juicy?" He licked his lips in anticipation and smacked them loudly with a small groan following. "Will it taste like a ripe-"
She clenched her thighs together, her core molten with need still.
Not now, please not now. Don't think about how right his body felt against yours. Don't think about how good he tasted.
"Stop!" She paced back and forth, her arms crossed and her head bent to her chest, "You're seducing me with words." A deep breath, "We've already established that we want to fuck one another. Alright? The contract for Valentine Evenings ends as of ten pm on Sunday. I refuse to let this desire affect my livelihood here in the mortal realm."
"'Fuck'? That's such a harsh word, Precious. I prefer adore. I want to adore... and ravish you – you being willing of course – Sarah Williams. But, I suppose I can wait until Sunday night." Jareth sighed good naturedly, as though he knew he would have her in his bed before then and her wishes were naught but silly things he let her believe. "And really, you could always come back to the Underground if you found things fell apart for you here. I'd love to have you at my beck and call. Day. And. Night." His tone darkened, setting goosebumps skittering across her arms. The kiss came to mind, along with two hot and sweaty bodies tangled in satin sheets.
She struggled a bit to breathe herself back to sanity. Keep your wits about you Sarah. Remember he's still as dangerous as ever, she reminded herself. He may not have Toby, but he has you as the potential prize this time.
"Yes, well, I'm not likely to let that happen," she muttered determinedly. Switching conversations for something safer; "Would you like a pain pill for err..." She watched him wave her off from the bed.
"No, I'd like to have my wits about me. Thank you," he smirked, "I am however, hungry. And since your display earlier caused us to miss the bountiful feast that I had planned for us and all the guests I took great care to invite, you owe me dinner."
"I owe you? You recreated one of my most poignant –to lull me into – never mind. Forget it," Sarah threw up her hands. "I am going to get changed into regular clothes and hit the Carl's Jr. down the street. If you want to eat, be changed and ready to roll in ten minutes." And with that, Sarah of the gorgeous gown swirled out of the room in shades of scarlet from head to toe.
Fifteen minutes later found both Sarah and Jareth clad in blue jeans and plain white t-shirts making their way down the street towards the giant smiling star proclaiming "Carl's Jr". The streets were well-lit and sidewalks in good repair as the three blocks traveled brought home the slight chill of the night air.
She had opted for a blue cardigan, while he had a lightweight and well-worn brown leather jacket. His wig firmly in place; Sarah smirked a bit as she walked beside him, giving the faux hair sideways glances, her hands in her jean pockets so she wouldn't reach out to touch it. Time enough for questions this weekend, she decided. If they could call a cease-fire.
Each held their own counsel; dealing with internal thoughts, questions, dialogues of things that should and should not be said. They each, in unspoken agreement, opted to maintain the silence for the time being.
His confident, sensual stride (Sarah noticed his walk showed no discernible tremors from his nads being smashed twice in one day, no less) matched her energetic one as they quietly made their way inside the establishment, teeming with late night fast food junkies. The heavenly smells of beef patties, breaded chicken, potato wedges, and chili filled their senses; Jareth's stomach rumbled. Sarah gave him a shy smile and turned to the counter to order a smörgåsbord of delights for them to share.
They paid, picked up their food, and she let him pick the table for their movable feast. Consuming the fabulous cheese-y bacon-y goodness of the potato wedges, she wondered what he thought as he dug into his egg rolls with gusto. Occasionally, he'd glance up at her inquisitive looks, arch an eyebrow, and watch her turn her eyes away, blushing. Their eyes met several times, saying things with a glance that neither really wanted to interpret.
Jareth realized he had a line that could not be crossed at present, and she had the skills to put him down a peg or two physically if he should try to blur that maddening edge. He felt a bit put out, but held some respect for her being able to take care of herself.
Sarah for the most part wanted to know if they could start over. So much history, she sighed inwardly, could only lead to too much baggage for a new beginning. Yes, he's hot, he's autocratic, he kisses like a God...err Goblin King? should. Yes, there's glitter involved when he wants it to be, but that doesn't really deter me. We just need to … begin again. Can we? Could we make it through the weekend, she wondered, without her having to pull out the knee again? She mused further as to who would break this not awkward absence of sound between them.
He was on his second order of chili cheese fries (originally hers) when the silence was broken. "This is all quite passable for mortal food. Underground cuisine is...a bit fussy, but delicious." he mused and then smirked at her, "Then again you wouldn't be able to eat half of the food Underground – the Ambrosia would kill you – something to do with the fruits and the sauce – the Elvish wine would poison you – the nicest way to kill a mortal yet what with all the hallucinations that would make you think you could fly."
Sarah stole a fry from the chili cheese basket in front of him, "Sounds lovely," drolly, with her mouth full of half-chewed fry. Then she grinned cheekily, and stole another fry.
"Your manners are appalling. You know this right?" He sneered in his most poshest tones. "How do you even make money at this... this..." he waved his hands around, "escort business when you eat like an uncouth peasant? A lovely and feminine woman, but a female who takes down men with her knee and talks with her mouth full of food." Jareth sat back against the molded plastic booth, wiping his hands gingerly on the napkins she had provided earlier, his sloped eyebrows drew together in consternation. He grabbed his drink and took off the top – not trusting the 'straw' Sarah had placed in through the hole earlier – taking a swig of lemonade.
Sarah swallowed the fry down and moved toward him across the table holding up three fingers in his face. "First," she ticked off her finger, "Valentine Evenings makes a damn good dollar in the business of escorting people to functions. My girls are professionals. Secondly, all of us – all my ladies and myself included – know which fork is the fucking salad fork, okay?" down went the second finger, "And third, you didn't pay for dinner tonight – I did – and I can damn well eat it however I want to." she smiled pleasantly, her voice dripping saccharine sweetness as she stuffed in another purloined chili cheese fry, and chewed obnoxiously loud.
The rest of dinner was a type of thoughtful quiet.
They left the fast food place, each with their hands in their own pockets. Jareth had grudgingly thanked her for dinner. And now, walking to return to the hotel, they were closer physically than before.
Jareth bent his head to his chest and mumbled. "I don't know much about you." Regret filled his words. Unspoken within his mind was, 'But I want to know more so I can get in your knickers.'
He grimaced. Time enough for that.
"When would you have known anything about me besides that I was a bit of a spoiled brat when I was fifteen?" she rejoined spiritedly.
"True, but you had such potential to be so much more." Wistful.
"I am more now; more than anyone realizes." Her tone was solid confidence.
"You're more powerful now for certain. You've grown into yourself." His purring tone let her know he was aware of her as a woman. It didn't hurt that he looked her up and down, languorously, taking in her curved hips, her breasts big enough to fill his hands, to her shining eyes.
"Can we start over?" Sarah turned to meet his beautiful mis-matched eyes with her own startling green. She wanted to implore him, to beg for a return to even footing. Only he could make the final decision as to how they went along.
"I can control time, but not ten years worth, no." A bit dejected, he watched her eyes sparkle, her warm smile slowly spreading across her face.
"No, I mean, can we start over... as friends? Not sparring partners? I'm tired of being slashed by wit and desire in the same moment and then getting hit over the head with baggage from the past. Can we call a truce to … all that came before?"
Sarah held out her hand with bated breath.
Make the right choice Jareth, she pleaded with her eyes.