DISCLAIMER: I don't own Labyrinth, Sarah or Jareth. I make no money for writing this. The only thing I get from it is what reviews people post, which make me smile and help me find the motivation to keep writing. That said, if someone were to give me Jareth, I would be eternally grateful and take VERY, VERY, VERY good care of him!
Warning: Some adult innuendo and shameless double entendres, as well as some abuse of buffalo wings. If buffalo wing abuse bothers you, don't read any further.
No animals were harmed in the writing of this story, but some goblins are now in therapy (which is pretty darn funny when you think about it). At least one has now developed a fetish for 'adult toys' that is even more alarming than seeing a gender-confused goblin in a grass skirt.
Author's Note: PLEASE REVIEW! Reviews keep me happy (in lieu of chocolate and I'm dieting, so NOOOO chocolate. If you want me to write faster, then feed me the only chocolate substitute sanctioned and promoted by the Laby fanfic writer's guild - REVIEWS!)
Thursday, October 24th
Sarah and Carrie stayed up until the wee hours of the morning debating what should be done about Jareth. The coffee date that Jareth tricked her into was bad enough, and Sarah had every intention to stand him up, that is until Carrie had to open her big mouth. In discussing it, they quickly realized that while Carrie did give him an open invitation, it was contingent upon Sarah standing him up.
…BURN! Take that Goblin King!
Their happiness was short-lived however, when they figured out that thanks to Carrie's wording, Sarah was now forced into seeing him again. She had to go on the coffee date or else he could show up whenever he wanted at the Alpha Chi house – and judging from the way the women in the library reacted to him, having him show up in a house full of hormonally challenged young women could be disastrous…. For him.
Sarah giggled at the mental image of Jareth being mobbed by a house full of hormonal young women.
"Well, getting jumped by a bunch of the girls might be enough incentive to put him off the creepy stalking thing he is doing now," she laughed, holding her sides. She looked at Carrie, who was wiping tears from her eyes.
In the end, Sarah decided that although it was tempting to skip the date and have the Goblin King run the gauntlet of sex-starved blondes at the sorority house, that might make him angry and at the moment, he didn't seem to be a threat, to her or anyone else.
Yeah, keep telling yourself that, snarked her libido. You just don't want to share him with the Barbie Brigade.
... I …. I…. Oh do shut up! She muttered, waiting for her inner-voice to realize the libido was loose again and corral it once more.
Sarah's dreams however, clearly agreed with her libido.
All night long she ran around the crystal ballroom, trying to get near him, and being thwarted by groups of blondes that seemed to flock to him. She seethed with anger at the way they hung on him and the way in which he did nothing to chase them away – but then, he did nothing to encourage them either. He merely watched Sarah, a faint smile of amusement on his face as she kept attempting to fight her way through the pressing throng of bodies, trying desperately to get near him. Eventually, with an aching heart from the realization that she couldn't get near him, so she backed away, leaning dejected against a crystal pillar at the edge of the ballroom. That was when he found her. Swooping in, he pulled her bodily into his embrace as he danced her around the room, his piercing eyes focused solely upon hers, ignoring the hostile looks of the women he had spurned in her favor.
Without warning his lips were on hers, soft yet demanding as his hands pressed her tightly to him, molding her to the length of his body. Grey gloved hands ran down her back, around her hips, down…down…
Don't tell my heart…my achy breaky heart….I just don't think it'd understand!
"Arrrgh!" Sarah yelped as she flew up out of her bed and leapt toward the middle of the room, her eyes still shut tight as she slammed her hand down toward the clock.
Carrie rolled over, bleary blue eyes peeking over the edge of her floral quilt at her roommate who was currently abusing a defenseless alarm clock with quite unnecessary amounts of venom.
"Two words girlfriend. Wiggling Wabbit."
The only answer she got was a pillow to the head.
In the end, Sarah decided that maybe Carrie was on to something. It would be much easier to deal with the idea of Jareth and the dreams, if she at least got some satisfaction out of them. So, despite her libido's argument for asking Jareth for his help on the matter… As if! … Sarah gave in and placed an order for her own 'wabbit' – if for no other reason than to get Carrie off her back about it.
Despite the fact that she adamantly maintained that she was not in the least bit interested in the Goblin King and therefore didn't care about this coffee date, it took Sarah the better part of two hours to get ready to meet him. Deciding what to wear was made more difficult with the 'help' Carrie kept offering, in the form of super short skirts and skimpy tops. When Carrie thrust another skin-tight dress at her, Sarah finally snapped.
"Is there a reason you are trying to dress me in the haute couture of designer 'Get-it-here'?" she grizzled, throwing the revealing red dress on the reject pile that was now so large it was in danger of falling over and burying poor Patty as she sat next to it on the bed, eating peppermint patties and watching the festivities with great amusement.
Wrenching open the closet Sarah pulled out her most comfortable pair of jeans and the two items she kept carefully tucked away for confidence emergencies and those times when she needed an extra dose of good luck – the linen poet's shirt and brocade vest she had worn when she defeated the labyrinth. If she ever needed a confidence boost and some good luck, it was today.
"Oh honestly," grumbled Carrie, releasing an exasperated breath that blew red curls out of her eyes, "You can't possibly be serious about wearing those! You want him, Sarah. At least dress the part. Sheesh!"
"I do not want him," Sarah argued, blithely ignoring the indignant protest her libido lodged to the contrary. "I am only going to meet him for coffee because not going would give him a reason to show up at the house and I'd rather avoid that."
Flipping through the closet, Carrie's eyes sparkled with impish delight as her fingers grasped the item she was looking for. "How about a compromise?"
… Some compromise. Remind me never to listen to Carrie's fashion advice again, Sarah thought morosely as she slowly walked through campus, her comfortable leather boots shuffling through clumps of crisp autumn leaves that were scattered across the footpath.
In the end, she had agreed to Carrie's compromise only to get her to shut up about Jareth. Capitulating, she put on her deep green suede skirt and the poet shirt, with a green satin waist cincher over the top. Although she would have preferred to meet Jareth wearing her 'lucky clothes' she settled for at least wearing her lucky shirt. As she trudged across campus she tried to remind herself that clothing does not make the woman, because if they did her clothing at the moment was sure to be saying "Look at these!" thanks to the waist cincher that Sarah thought was far too tight and seemed to frame her breasts. Considering the looks she got from every guy she passed as she walked to the coffee shop, she was pretty sure she was right.
When she neared the coffee house Sarah paused, her emerald eyes glancing toward the shop as if it were the very gates of Hell themselves. She nibbled her lip thoughtfully, before turning around and staring to walk back toward home, then stopped once more. Peering over her shoulder she looked back at the coffee shop with a heavy sigh.
"Damn you, Goblin King," she muttered and flopped down on a nearby bench.
Glancing at her watch, she saw she had another 10 minutes before she was due at the café. Sarah leant her head against the back of the bench and sighed again. Why does he have this effect on me? She mused as she shut her eyes, breathing deeply of the crisp fall air. I want to see him, but the very idea terrifies me. Arrrgh!
"And it doesn't help that I look ridiculous," she muttered, tugging at the bottom of the waist cincher as it dug into her hips.
"On the contrary, Sarah, I think you look lovely," Jareth purred, leaning over the back of the bench.
Startled, Sarah threw herself bolt upright, slamming into Jareth's chin, making him grunt heavily as he leapt back. Groaning, Sarah rubbed her sore forehead, as her eyes watered with pain. Tenderly touching his chin, Jareth slunk around the bench to sit beside her.
"I always knew you were hard-headed, Precious. However, I really didn't need you to prove it quite like this," he grumbled with a grin, massaging his chin as he watched her gingerly run her fingers over her forehead.
Biting back a giggle, Sarah looked at him blinking back the burning in her eyes from the sharp ache in her head. She was vaguely surprised by how well the Aboveground wardrobe suited him. Today he was wearing a deep burgundy shirt that looked to be made of fine cotton, lightly caressing his shoulders to flow over his chest, over black jeans that encased his thighs just tight enough to show off their definition, but not so tight as to be painted-on.
More's the pity, her libido muttered sadly.
… Damn him. Why does he have to look so good, she moaned inwardly, trying to tear her eyes away from his chest, where she could just glimpse a bit of the fine golden chain that she was sure held the pendant she vividly remembered.
Just kiss him already and let's get this party started, suggested her libido, breaking free of the chains her inner-voice had tried to subdue it with.
Watching Jareth's fingers running over his chin, Sarah tried hard not to focus in on his wonderfully inviting looking lips. Forcing her eyes away from his lips, she noticed his knowing smirk and blushed realizing that he had caught her out.
"Well, if you insist on sneaking up on me, then you deserve what you get for surprising me," she chuckled, gasping as her fingers touched a very sensitive spot on her face. "Ouch. Has anyone ever told you that you've got a really sharp chin?"
"Sharp and talented tongue, yes," he laughed, the sound a seductive rumble that tickled her senses, making her blush as much from the sound as his blatant innuendo. "Chin, no. And if you think a minor bump to the head will free you from having coffee with me, you are sadly mistaken, Sarah."
Seeing the amused glint in his eyes and his characteristic smirk, Sarah had to laugh. "I wouldn't dare think anything of the sort. "
Rising he held out his arm, an eyebrow raised as he smiled at her, "Shall we go then?"
Sarah stood, looking from the arm he held out to her, to his face and back again. I suppose it wouldn't hurt, she thought, lightly tucking her hand into the crook of his elbow.
She didn't miss the look of pleasant surprise that flickered across his face, a sly smile teasing her lips as she watched him carefully school his expression back into one of smug aloofness. The very idea that she could surprise the great Goblin King gave her confidence a much-needed boost.
Reaching the coffee shop, he led her to the counter to order. Seeing Sarah reach for her wallet, Jareth placed a leather-clad hand upon hers.
"I believe it is customary for person who did the inviting to pay, Sarah," he drawled, his mismatched eyes flickering with silent intensity as he looked at her, watching her hesitate.
Sarah pursed her lips as she looked at him, before slowly shaking her head. "I can't let you do that, not without knowing what price you would ask in exchange."
When the goblins had begun to show up in her closet after her run through the labyrinth, Sarah had read all she could about goblins, fairies, the Fae and other 'Otherworld' races. In her reading she found numerous warnings about never accepting gifts, since there was always a price attached to them. Although she wasn't sure exactly what Jareth was, as Goblin King, it seemed reasonable to be cautious.
Jareth laughed. "You never cease to surprise me, Precious. However I assure you that I have no ulterior motives. As I told you yesterday, I merely wanted the chance to get reacquainted with you."
Crossing her arms over her chest, Sarah looked at him skeptically. Seeing her distrustful look and the decidedly mule-ish set of her jaw, Jareth chuckled merrily. "I suppose you will keep denying me until I name my price?" At her raised eyebrow, he nodded, "Fine then. The going exchange rate for a cup of coffee is two hours of conversation. I'll even throw in one of those pumpkin scones you are so fond of – at no extra cost. Do we have a deal?"
Grinning, Sarah nodded, her emerald eyes sparkling cheekily at him. "Deal. I have a hard time passing up a scone."
For the next two hours they sat in a corner of the café, sipping coffee, eating scones and talking about the most mundane of things – much to Sarah's surprise. She hadn't known what to expect when she showed up, but sitting around with the Goblin King discussing her classes, sorority life, goblin antics, and the recent expansion of the Bog of Eternal Stench, was definitely not it.
And so they sat, exchanging stories as the afternoon wore on. Sarah actually found that she was enjoying herself in a way that she hadn't in quite some time. She was only dimly aware of questioning looks from her friends and sorority sisters as they breezed in and out of the shop. While listening to Jareth's tale about the recent chicken infestation of his study, she found herself distracted by the scone crumbs that were scattered on his chest. Without thinking, she reached out, brushing them away with a light touch.
Looking down, Jareth placed his hand over hers as it tenderly brushed at his chest. Sarah's flushed hotly. Tugging her hand from under his, she dropped it into her lap.
"I…I'm sorry," she stammered, shrinking into her chair with embarrassment at his amused smirk. "I'm so used to doing that for Toby and my father, I didn't even think….and…I…I'm…um…rambling."
"No apologies needed, Precious. Thank you," came the bemused reply. Looking at his watch, Jareth noted the time, a look of regret flitting across his elegant face. "You have more than met your obligation Sarah, it has been three hours, of most pleasant conversation. Didn't you have a paper you needed to finish?"
"Oh," she sighed, trying to figure out why her heart fell at that news. "Has it been three hours already?"
… I didn't want to come anyway, so why do I feel almost sad that it is over.
Jareth watched her face fall at the realization that her agreed upon time limit was up, the look of disappointment on her face making him chuckle inwardly, as he worked to keep his expression neutral. It was her next words that shocked him.
"Actually, the paper is already finished. I just told the pledges that so I could get an evening to myself," she smiled slyly before nibbling her bottom lip, her eyes flitting toward his face, then dropping to her lap. "Um… look, I was going to go to dinner. Would you…ah… that is… oh hell…. Do you want to come to dinner with me?" she blurted, getting frustrated with herself and the way he seemed to make her feel flustered over the silliest things.
…I'm acting like a silly school-girl with a crush, she lamented inwardly.
Raising an eyebrow, he looked at her with a questioning smile.
"I mean…it isn't anything fancy. I was just going to go to a local pub for dinner and though you might like to come along," she continued, feeling both sheepish and nervous that he'd turn her down.
…Arrrgh! I don't care what the Goblin King thinks or does. I'm only asking to be friendly since he seems to want to be friends, she wailed to herself.
Sure. Keep telling yourself that. Maybe eventually someone will be believe you, but as for me, I know the truth. You've got the hots for him. Chirped her libido, making goo-goo eyes at Jareth. And who could blame you. He's gorgeous. I wonder how delish he would look waking up next to you?
Jareth watched her, his expression morphing to amusement as Sarah blushed furiously, her eyes darting to meet his, then flashing away with an embarrassed grin.
… Damn. One of the times I really wish I could read minds instead of just dreams, he thought, chuckling.
With a mischievous smirk Jareth smiled at Sarah and nodded, "I would be delighted to join you for dinner, however, as you asked of me, I must now ask of you - What would be your price?"
Sarah looked shocked, her mouth falling open as she shook her head, "I...um…No..No strings attached, Jareth. Just dinner with a friend."
… Oh frack! …she thought in horrified wonder. I just called the Goblin King by his name and called him a friend.
Hell must now be a skating rink, quipped her inner-voice, viewing the whole scene with a vague sense of confusion, and trying desperately to figure out just when and why he had been promoted to the rank of 'friend'.
Her use of his name was not lost on Jareth either, and neither was the way she included him in the category of 'friend'. He wondered at the feeling of heat that seemed to burst into being in his chest at that one simple word, a vastly different heat than what he felt when she had called Hogwart her friend all those years ago.
"In that case, I would be happy to accept," came the quiet reply, his voice a seductive purr that made her shiver in spite of herself.
…I don't know how he does it…. she thought.
But I hope he never stops, moaned her libido, melting into a puddle of hormonal goo at his tone of voice.
And that was how, in a relatively short amount of time, Sarah and the Goblin King were tucked into a corner booth of a local pub, drinking beer and eating buffalo wings, despite a minor misunderstanding in which Jareth actually appeared concerned by the fact that buffalo did not have wings. Trying desperately not to laugh and insult his royally over-inflated ego (Face it…you were just worried that he'd bog you, insisted her inner-voice) Sarah managed to make him understand that buffalo wings were actually chicken coated in a spicy sauce. The misunderstanding was amusing, but not near as amusing as the look of sheer horror on his face when he realized that eating buffalo wings was most assuredly not a civilized undertaking.
"You must be kidding, Sarah?" he muttered, looking down his nose at the basket of wings sitting between them on the table.
"Oh, now really," she laughed, giving a mock sigh of exasperation, "You act like you've never eaten anything with your fingers before. And I know that couldn't be true since you gave me a peach during my run and they can be horrifically messy to eat…even when they aren't hallucinogenic," she teased, nimbly plucking a buffalo wing from the basket.
Jareth chuckled, giving her a sardonic sneer as he replied, his voice a low caress against her senses, "Trust you to bring that up, Precious."
"How could I forget?" she asked, before biting into the wing in her fingers. He watched intently as she seemed to be completely unaware of the sauce that was dripping down her fingers and clinging to her lips.
Swallowing, she fixed him with a piercing look, her green eyes snapping impishly in the dim light of the bar, "It was my first ball and my first, and thankfully last, spiked peach. The dancing and singing wasn't bad, but the rest was…well...unfortunate."
With a shrug, Jareth smirked mysteriously at her, "I was merely doing my job, Sarah. Doing what you asked of me, in fact."
"True. I get that now," she nodded, gesturing with the half-eaten wing her fingers.
She paused as she watched him looking at the basket of wings, then it hit her. Frowning she gasped, "Oh damn! You can't eat wings with gloves on. I'm so sorry, Jareth. I didn't think that! We'll flag down the waitress and order something else."
Seeing the upset look on her face at thinking she had insulted him, Jareth smiled. "Hush, Precious. What you ordered is fine," he replied with a wink, as he tugged the gloves from his hands.
Sarah watched, dumbstruck as his fingers were suddenly naked.
Hmmm…Naked Jareth, now there is a mental image worth spending time on, drooled her libido with a lusty purr, making Sarah blush crimson as she took a long drink of the frosty beer.
She watched him tuck the gloves into the pocket of his coat, fascinated by the pale skin of his slender fingers and their graceful movements. Catching herself, she bit back the deep sigh of want that threatened to escape her parted lips, squelching the offending noise with a sharp click of her teeth. Seeing her reaction, Jareth winked at her once more, his mismatched eyes flashing mischievously at her as he carefully picked up a wing. Bringing the wing to his lips, he caught her gaze and bit into it with deliberate slowness, pleased at the way her eyes never strayed from his mouth.
With extreme force of will, Sarah managed to tear her eyes away from Jareth's lips and teeth, despite the lewd cat-calls her libido was issuing (All the better to nibble, bite and EAT you with my dear!). Between bites, Sarah asked the question she had wondered about since she had returned from the labyrinth, "So, why do you wear gloves, Jareth."
… That is three times she has said my name, he thought, feeling a strange tightness in his chest each time his name fell from her lips.
Not like you are counting or anything, snarked his inner-self, trying not to be horrifically affronted by idea of eating buffalo wings, even if they weren't made of real buffalo.
"They help contain my magic so that it doesn't unintentionally contaminate others," he replied, his eyes transfixed by the sight of Sarah's tongue flicking delicately over her lips, licking up traces of the sauce. Clearing his throat, he forced himself to continue, despite the flush of heat that washed over him. "For non-magic users, the feel of unadulterated magic is often too intense, and considering how often I deal with humans and other races who don't possess or manipulate magic, it is best for all involved if my own magic is moderated when around them."
It was all Sarah could do to restrain herself from dropping the wing in her fingers and grabbing his hands with hers, just to see what it felt like.
Having finished her share of the wings, Jareth watched as Sarah turned comfortably in the booth, leaning back against the worn, padded leather seats. Looking lost in thought, she delicately sucked the sauce from her fingers, oblivious to the mismatched eyes that drank in the sight, each movement of her fingers in and out of her lips making his breath catch in his throat.
…Dear Gods… she has no idea what she is doing to me, he groaned inwardly, unable to tear his eyes away from her.
Gah! replied his inner-self and libido simultaneously demonstrating a commendable grasp of language, and then ruining it utterly with an inarticulate moan.
Out of the corner of her eye, Sarah caught him looking at her, at which point her inner-voice demanded that she blush furiously, take her fingers out of her mouth and attempt to look contrite. Her libido on the other hand, argued for plunging her fingers deeper into her mouth and playing the situation up for all it was worth. Remarkably, her libido won out, in what was a first, and judging from the way her libido was now streaking through her brain shrieking in hormonal glee, not likely to be the last, libidinous victory. Sarah pulled on the last reserves from her high school acting classes in order to keep looking oblivious to the way Jareth was watching her, as she leisurely sucked individual fingers into her mouth once more, letting her tongue wash over them. Unfortunately, she faltered, unable to keep a sly smile from her lips.
Seeing the smirk, Jareth rasped, "You… are doing that on purpose," his voice a throaty growl, as his fingers tightened against the tabletop.
Glancing at him Sarah noticed that his eyes, usually mismatched blue and brown, were both darker, the realization that he was definitely responding to her actions, making her tremble. Fighting to keep her voice calm, she smiled sweetly at him, "I don't know what you are talking about. I am merely licking sauce from my fingers."
"Minx. Two can play that game," came the cryptic reply. Without warning Jareth grabbed her other hand between his thumb and fingers, pulling it to his lips.
The feeling of magic that shot through her at the touch of his hand made her body spasm against the padded leather of the booth, forcing a gasping moan from her lips. Grinning knowingly at her reaction, he wrapped his lips around her index finger and began sucking the sauce from it, humming against her finger as she quivered all over. His eyes never left her face as her mouth dropped open at the sight of her fingers sliding past his lips - lips she had only ever dreamed about touching her.
… Dear God….real life is sooooooo much better, she thought, before she lost herself once more to the sensation of his velvet skinned lips engulfing her fingers, as they tugged hungrily against her skin.
Gah! answered her libido and inner-self in a rare show of inarticulate solidarity.
Sarah thought that everyone in the bar would be able to smell the brimstone, as her insides caught fire at the touch of his magic and lips upon her. She was sure the fire that exploded within her would soon render her body nothing but a pile of smoldering ashes, and quite frankly, at that moment in time, she didn't care one little bit. She didn't care that is, until a hesitant voice broke in.
"Um, Sarah?" asked a quiet voice, approaching the booth from behind Jareth.
Snapping her eyes away from Jareth's ministrations of her fingers, Sarah saw one of her pledges coming toward them.
… Farking great timing!
With a sheepish blush, she jerked her fingers suddenly away from his lips, curling them into a ball in her lap in an effort to rid them of the feel of his warm lips and furnace-like mouth – it wasn't working, as evidenced by the howl of protest that her libido sent up at the absence of his lips on her skin.
A slight brunette, rounded the corner of the booth coming toward them, her doe-brown eyes rimmed in red. Peering into the booth, her face dropped as she saw Jareth.
"Oh geeze. I didn't know you were on a date, Sarah," she muttered, quickly turning away from them.
Having seen the girl's red eyes, Sarah frowned, wiping her hands as she murmured, "Stop right there, Giselle," she said as she moved over into the booth. "Sit down."
"No, really…" began the other girl.
"That wasn't a request, Giselle. Now. Sit," came the quiet yet firm reply, Jareth's eyes widened in interest as he watched Sarah's response to the other girl.
…She would make a marvelous queen with that sense of authority, he thought as he watched.
And it doesn't hurt that the goblins adore her, added his inner-self smugly.
Peeking bashfully at Jareth, the younger woman sat next to Sarah, fidgeting nervously. Seeing the way Giselle looked at Jareth, Sarah smiled gently, placing her hand on the other girl's arm. "It's okay, he's… he's a friend. What happened?"
"Mark Peters happened." Giselle sniffed, slouching into the padded seat of the booth as she looked at her hands, restlessly fidgeting on the tabletop.
Jareth watched silently as Sarah sighed, leaning her head against the back of the booth and thumping it gently. Pursing her lips, she frowned, emerald eyes snapping angrily beneath hooded lids betrayed the fury rising inside her.
"How far did he get, Giselle?" Sarah asked, her voice quiet and gentle, yet tinged with steely rage.
The younger woman gave a slight smirk as she looked at Sarah, "Not far. He'll be walking with a limp for awhile, I suspect."
Jareth chuckled, a malicious smirk tugging at the corners of his mouth as he watched the fire dance in Sarah's eyes. He could see her potential for vicious cruelty if provoked and he knew without a doubt she would be stunning when enraged.
Giselle looked up at Sarah, then at Jareth, before returning her gaze to the table, absent-mindedly tracing names carved in the top of the pub table with a fingernail.
"Sarah… what about the Haunted Hunt, Saturday night? All of the pledges have to go and his frat is hosting it this year."
Nodding, Sarah sucked on her bottom lip, lost in thought. Suddenly, her eyes brightened as she looked at Giselle, "Two words – ipecac and cranberry juice. Dose yourself an hour before we are to leave and make sure the house mother sees that you are ill. You'll spend the evening in the infirmary, but you'll be safe from Mark."
"Sarah, you shouldn't go to the Hunt either," Giselle warned, her voice shaking as she relayed the message, warm brown eyes pleading as she looked at Sarah. "Mark said he had plans for you that would make you wish you'd never rejected him."
Sarah's eyes shot toward Jareth's face, her face blanching at the look of pain that flashed across his aristocratic features. In that instant, she found it hard to breathe, as if a whole squad of goblins were somehow sitting on her chest. The look of pain on Jareth's face, fleeting though it was, caused her blood to run cold, splashing icily through her veins until her very soul seemed to shiver. She wanted nothing more than that take Jareth's hands in hers and try to explain, but she had to deal with Giselle first.
… Why does there always have to be someone else that comes between us at crucial moments, she wailed inwardly, as her inner-self threw a tantrum, complete with kicking the ground and throwing things – wisely, her libido ducked behind dusty memories in a forgotten corner of her mind, waiting for the tantrum to end.
"I only regret ever turning down one person," Sarah said, her voice quiet and calm as she looked straight at Jareth, her emerald eyes sparkling pools of guilt, before she turned her gaze once more to Giselle. "And it sure as Hell wasn't Mark Peters," she spat venomously her voice laced with ire as her mind already began formulating a plan. "Just leave him to me. He has no idea what comes of wishing, but when I'm done with him, he's going to wish he'd kept his hands to himself."
After being reassured by Sarah that Mark wouldn't bother her again, Giselle left for home, accompanied by several friends from the pub. Returning to her beer, Sarah snuggled into the corner of the booth, her green eyes glazing over as she battled her thoughts on two fronts - how Jareth would react to what Giselle said, and how best to teach Mark a lesson.
Moments ticked by, seeming to slow down to such a degree that Sarah thought for an instant that Jareth had indeed reordered time. When he cleared his throat, she looked at him with both relief and dread, as a now gloved hand reached out to caress hers as it lay on the table.
"Did you mean what you said, Precious?"
Sarah took a deep breath. Attempting to swallow the golf ball that now felt like it was lodged in her throat, she willed her voice not to shake as she answered, "What's said is said. I won't take any of it back. Not then. And not now either."
Entwining his fingers in hers, Jareth nodded slowly, wanting to push her further for answers, but knowing that now was not the time as other matters needed to be settled first.
"And what of this Mark person?"
Leaning forward, Sarah's voice dropped so as not to be overheard by others near them, "Over the years, Mark has become fond of taking liberties with the Alpha Chi pledges and I pissed him off when I was a pledge. Not only did I reject him publically at a party, but when he cornered me in private and tried to force me…"
She gasped at the look of pure hatred that slipped into the Goblin King's eyes as she told her story, his fingers tightening around hers, stopping only when she winced painfully.
…He seems almost…. she thought, feeling the air around them begin to buzz with power.
Protective? Breathed her inner-self in shock.
Possessive. Sighed her libido with school-girl glee, before throwing itself down on a fainting couch in a lovely imitation of a swoon.
"So… I broke his nose," she continued, smiling as Jareth relaxed his hold on her hand, the hatred in his eyes slowly fading. "And the crunch was the most satisfying feeling in the world."
Seeing Sarahs' eyes light up as she finished her story, Jareth threw back his head and laughed, a delicious baritone rumble that sent shivers down her spine. She grinned back at him, a malicious smirk playing over her cranberry colored lips at the memory of Mark's expression as she punched him.
With a purr, Jareth looked at her once more, mismatched eyes darkening visibly as he held her gaze, his thumb tenderly caressing the palm of her hand, "Believe me Sarah, there are far more satisfying feelings to experience."
Sarah felt her stomach tremble at his words and the way he seemed to wrap his lips around her name each time he said it. Feeling her breath catch in her throat at the potential meanings of his words, Sarah fought the heat that threatened to suffuse her face, and lost, as she blushed furiously. Trying to quell the heat that seemed to be burning her alive, Sarah tore her eyes away from Jareth's, taking another long drink from her glass.
"While I am sure there are other, more exquisite feelings I have yet to experience," she began, watching his eyes dance impishly at her words, knowing he too was reading into their meaning, "I'd really like the satisfaction of teaching this scum-ball a lesson regarding how not to treat women."
Continuing the seductive caressing of her palm, Jareth smiled wolfishly at her, his eyes flickering with a hunger that was almost palpable in the small booth, "I would happily see to your satisfaction my dear," he purred silkily, teasing her hand with his fingers, "…in this matter and all others. What did you have in mind?"
Sarah tried hard to think, but the feeling of Jareth teasing her hand wasn't helping, rather it was making her libido squeal giddily, her inner-voice had gone into hiding somewhere in the deepest recesses of her mind, and her body was declaring outright mutiny as the fire raging in her belly threatened to consume her whole. With a grumbling sigh, Sarah reluctantly pulled her hand from his, clasping them tightly in her lap. Jareth raised arched an eyebrow at her, as a knowing smirk tugged at the corners of his mouth.
Pursing her lips, Sarah leaned against the booth, shutting her eyes as she mulled over how best to teach Mark a much needed lesson.
…Whatever we do, it has to get the point across. She thought, wondering how to make Mark truly fear her. Then it hit her. The answer was literally staring her in the face.
Sitting up, she leaned forward, her eyes flashing wickedly as her lips spread in a conspiratorial grin. It was a dangerous gambit, but what was life without a little danger. Right?
"So, Jareth… what would be required in return for the services of a few goblins and their King…just for a few hours?"
"Services," came the breathy reply, as he rolled the word lazily over his tongue. Jareth's eyes darkened as he gave her a smouldering look, "You have my full and undivided attention, Precious."