Mirror lag, of course, made things slightly less graceful than she would have liked.

Thankfully Jareth had the decency not to make sarcastic comments while she lay curled on the bed and unable to respond (though he later referred to that period as the longest five minutes of my very long life). When she finally had full use of her limbs and voice she stood up and took in her surroundings. She'd come through a large mirror hanging on the wall, and she was surprised yet again at the girl who looked back at her from it, familiar but not. The rest of the room was cozy, but not cute, thankfully. The candles and the moonlight illuminated everything just enough, and it all smelled slightly of wood and night air.

And then her gaze turned to Jareth and lingered on his face and chest, all angles and soft shadows in the flickering light, his mismatched eyes gleaming as he stared at her. His face seemed to be working very hard to reclaim its usual snide expression.

"I feel…slightly underdressed."

Sarah laughed. "I have a feeling you've never said that before."

He appeared to think about this for a moment. "No, I can't say that I have. Still, if I'd known this was a formal affair…"

She looked down at herself. "I, uh, don't know if this thing is substantial enough to be called 'formal.'"

"And thank the Gods for that."

She felt some sort of barrier dissolve between them at that moment, and the next thing she knew she had crossed the short distance to his side of the room and he was kissing her with wild abandon, his hands grabbing fistfuls of her hair while his mouth moved quickly from her lips to her cheek and down over her neck and shoulders. She responded in kind, drinking in the smell and taste of him, kissing wherever her mouth could reach.

He whispered against her ear. "Tell me what you need, precious."

She smiled and then let out a small yip of pleasure when he bit her shoulder. "I think it's fairly obvious."

"Yes," he breathed, burying his face in her hair, "but I want to hear you say it. And…" he bit her again, "be detailed."

"Detailed?" She ran her hands through his hair (so soft). "Is that a requirement for this particular sort of need-feeding?"

"No, it's just something I want very badly." He gave her mouth a particularly fierce kiss and then pulled away to look directly into her eyes, hands cupping the sides of her face. "Please."

The raw desire etched onto his face made her shiver, even as words were getting slightly more difficult to form. "Detailed."

"Yes."

She took a deep breath. "I need you…to say my name quietly at first, and then louder."

He nodded, eyes piercing hers, face flushed. "Go on."

"I need you to hold me down when I lose control of my senses." She smiled as he sucked in his breath. "And I need you to significantly reorder time, because I will want to do everything we're going to do again, and again, and again."

He smiled and put his lips near her ear again. "More detailed, Sarah," he whispered.

Her heart threatened to burst through her chest. Well, I already knew I was going to hell.

She whispered in his ear and heard his breathing grow steadily quicker as the words spilled out of her, words she'd certainly thought and pictured but had never spoken aloud.

When she finished he raked her body with his hands, gripping the fabric of her nightgown and pulling it upward. "Demanding girl," he whispered. "Luckily for you, I'm very," he gripped her hair and pulled her head backward, giving her neck a series of punishing kisses, "very generous."

"One more th—aaaahhh." She managed to reach down and grab one of his roving hands. "I want you to take off these damn gloves, please."

He chuckled. "In time. After you've…adjusted."

She rolled her eyes. "You have a ridiculously high opinion of your skills."

He slipped his hands under the straps of her nightgown. "That sounds like a challenge."

She raised an eyebrow. "And if it is?"

He grinned. "Then you should know that I always play to win."

Her nightgown slipped to the floor with two light flicks of his wrists, and Sarah felt the shock of the cool night air all over her exposed skin. An old part of herself instinctively curled inward, hands reaching up to cover herself, but she banished the instinct quickly and left her arms at her sides, her gaze meeting his, watching his eyes travel over her like a caress. He said something again in that unfamiliar language.

"What does that mean?"

He smiled and trailed one hand from her neck down over her stomach, and she gasped when she felt his fingers slip just under the lace of her underwear. "Hard to translate. The closest phrasing might be you are the star's fire in which I would happily burn."

"That's lovely…" Her hands slipped under his shirt. "You'll have to teach me more of it."

He closed his eyes as her hands traveled over his chest and back, and he said something else in a tone that sounded slightly rougher. "That one's simpler," he whispered.

"Really?"

"Yes, it means get me the fuck out of these clothes."

His shirt and trousers were off in a hurried jumble of hands pulling and unfastening, and oh God he was beautiful, all hard angles and smooth, pale surfaces in the flickering light of moon and candles, and she hungrily kissed a heated trail across his chest and tasted something delightfully male mixed with ice and autumn air and spring rain, wrapping her arms around his chest and pressing as much of herself into him as she possibly could.

He was kissing down her stomach and then he was kneeling in front of her, his mouth nibbling a trail over the delightfully insubstantial barrier of her underwear, and then his tongue slipped lower and she screamed and grabbed his hair with both hands. His mouth was so hot, and so precise, and she felt her knees buckling and was grateful that the bed was there to catch her as she fell backward. He pulled her underwear off easily as his mouth continued its slow exploration, his hands holding her firmly against the bed as she bucked and twisted under his tongue.

And just as she was sure she might pass out with the overwhelming sensation of dizzying heat she felt him climb on top of her, easily pinning her arms above her head with one hand. His mouth snaked a trail down her neck to her breasts, and she arched her back and as his teeth grazed her nipple and one of his legs slipped between hers, moving against her slowly, and her arms struggled against him, but he was too strong…

"Gods, Jareth, let me touch you, please—"

He sucked her nipple into his mouth and she cried out. When he looked up his face was flushed but smirking.

"Sorry, precious, I couldn't hear you."

"Let me t—"

He leaped forward to smother her mouth while his free hand squeezed her other breast, tongue playing with hers while she continued to writhe under him. When he finally came up for air he was still smiling. "Still couldn't hear you."

She wrapped one leg around him to press him harder against her, and his smirk faltered for a moment. "Let. Me. Touch. You."

He laughed and let go of her hands. "I did say that I was generous—"

She flipped him onto his back and straddled him, and the look in his eyes was a mix of surprise and raw lust that made her grin. She stayed that way for a few seconds, just looking at him looking up at her in wonder, and she reached out to cup his cheek and he closed his eyes and kissed her hand…

…and then she flattened her body against his and gripped his arms while she kissed his neck and chest, the softness of her breasts rubbing against him as she moved steadily downward, and he was whispering her name as she moved but then when her lips made a trail from his knee up the inside of his thigh he was shouting it…

And suddenly she was on her back again and she felt a wonderful heat as he slipped between her legs, and her fingernails gripped his shoulders as he grabbed a handful of her hair and yanked backward, and his mouth was whispering next to her ear, his breath hot against her.

"Tell me what you need, Sarah."

She moaned and pushed herself harder against him, feeling a delicious ache spread through her body. Her voice was pained. "Please…"

He shifted against her again (so close!) and she cried out. "Say it, precious, tell me what you need."

"…need…need you inside me…"

He kissed his way down her neck and over her breasts. "Again."

Her voice was a growl. "I need you inside me."

He came back up to meet her eyes, and they were wilder than she'd ever seen them, and then they rolled back in his head as he pushed himself inside her, and Sarah screamed as heat filled her again and again and the bed seemed to fall away beneath her, and she felt a weightless, all-consuming pleasure and an almost unbearable heat. She rolled on top of him and pinned his arms to the bed, and he was gasping her name and gripping her so tightly, and words and language left her as she tangled and untangled around him again and again, in this place where the only thing that existed was the urgent merging of their bodies and a wellspring of glorious thirst engulfing her in desires spoken and fulfilled.

"You're moving too fast."

"I've been doing this for all of five minutes, you've had a few dozen lifetimes to learn."

"More than a few dozen."

"Yes, yes, my mortal mind can't grasp your level of ancient-ness. I should still be able to juggle a crystal ball."

Lying on her back and using Jareth's chest as a pillow, Sarah was balancing a crystal on the back side of her left hand and trying to accomplish the simple trick (not so simple at all, really) of flipping it over to the other side, as she'd seen him do so many times. They were on the floor just beside the bed, where there was, thankfully, a very soft fur rug. Sarah's brow was furrowed with concentration as she carefully positioned her hands above her head and tried to make the crystal ball dance.

She idly wondered if they should put their clothes back on and decided that no, that was a terrible idea.

Jareth threaded his ungloved fingers through hers and expertly balanced the crystal in her palm, then shifted it to the back of his hand as if it were attached with a magnet. "It's all patience, dearest."

She rolled her eyes. "Appropriate, since you would try the patience of a saint."

"You won't be able to do it if you let frustration get the better of you."

"Fine, fine. Mindful breaths, cleansing thoughts."

She let him guide her hands in loops and circles, feeling a slightly softer version of that delightful warm, melting sensation that seemed to radiate from each of his fingers. She was glad he'd waited a while to take the gloves off, because as he'd warned her, the effect had been…

She blushed at the memory and almost dropped the crystal.

That first coming together had ended with both of them wrapped tightly around each other, sweating and tangled in a mess of pillows and sheets, but it was only a moment before Jareth was crawling on top of her again, his face positively radiant with replenished need, and she found herself returning his kisses with equal fervor.

And then he'd smirked at her and removed each glove with his teeth, tossing them aside.

She'd laughed at him. "Are the magic hands supposed to frighten me?"

"Not frighten you, precious," he'd whispered, kissing her neck as one hand closed over her breast and she gasped. "Just…humble you."

The sensation was like…heat, and electricity, but really it was just pure, near-orgasmic pleasure that melted over her skin like caramel, and when his hand moved to her lips and she sucked his fingers it was like drinking liquid joy.

"Gods and fuck, what is this…."

He chuckled and ran his other hand all over her, leaving a burning trail of sensation over everything he touched. And then his hand slipped tantalizingly lower, and his smile was utterly wicked as his fingers moved between her legs…

…and the world went momentarily black as she gasped and screamed and gripped his shoulders with her fingernails hard enough to draw blood, because it felt like she was being kissed and licked and penetrated and suckled all at the same time, and that liquid joy shot through every vein in her body until her limbs seemed disconnected from her torso, and she felt certain that her physical self must be disintegrating, but she didn't care, and when she climaxed he did have to hold her down, just as she'd asked him to, because her flailing body surely would have fallen out of the bed otherwise.

After that second lengthy interlude in the bed there had been some time spent in the windowsill (not the most comfortable, but a lovely view), and then on the chair (which inspired a bit of creative positioning), and then up against the wall (that was fun). She wasn't sure how much he had reordered time or how long she'd been in this room, because the night outside hadn't ended, but she felt sure that enough time must have passed for the sun to rise and set again. At one point, with her back pressed against the wall, one of Jareth's arms holding her up effortlessly as his mouth devoured her neck, she'd gasped that she wasn't sure how much longer she could do this.

"I have faith in you, precious," he gasped back, reaching up to push wet strands of hair out of her face. "Besides, I still haven't given you everything that you told me you needed…"

Note to self: be careful what you whisper in a Goblin King's ear, because you will get all of it. Multiple times.

He was the one who finally fell asleep, (and fair enough, really, given that he'd gotten a bit more of a workout than she had), sprawled on his back on the rug on the floor, limbs tangled with pillows and sheets, her head resting comfortably on his chest. She'd fallen asleep soon after, and when she woke his breathing was still slow and rhythmic, a wonderfully peaceful expression on his face.

I am spoiled for life, and he knows it.

She sat up and stared at the lines of his face and torso, reaching out to trace a finger over his collarbone and the taut muscle of his arm, willing to memory the way that the light made his hair and skin gleam, the dark richness of his eyelashes, the soft outline of his mouth. When her hand reached up to smooth his hair his own hand shot up and grabbed her wrist, and she jumped.

He smiled up at her, his eyes still heavy-lidded with desire but also half asleep, a mixture that she loved. "I never took advantage of you when you were helpless, Sarah."

She rolled her eyes at him. "I doubt you've ever been completely helpless."

He plucked a crystal out of the air and casually wove it between his hands. "You're swiftly changing that."

She smiled and reached for the crystal, which he held just out of reach. "Let me try," she said.

"Try what?"

"What you're doing."

He laughed. "I've had countless lifetimes of boredom to perfect this bit of silliness, why would you want to bother with it?"

She finally succeeded in snatching the ball away from him and lay back against the side of his chest, carefully maneuvering the crystal between her hands. "Because my puny mortal body needs a brief distraction."

He laughed, which jostled her body slightly, leading her to almost drop the crystal. "Don't laugh. Or breathe."

He managed to sigh without moving. "You are impossible."

"And you," she muttered, eyes focused on the crystal, "would not have me any other way."

Back in the present she smiled as she stared up at their intertwined fingers moving in the flickering candlelight, the crystal dancing between them. She gently maneuvered it into her own hands and it immediately began to fall, and Jareth reached out to catch it before it could hit her in the face.

She took it back and started moving it from hand to hand again, and he sighed. "Sarah, you're going to break your nose."

"I will not break anyth—" Right at that moment the crystal slipped off of her outstretched fingers and landed with a thunk on her chin. "Ow."

He laughed and scooped up the crystal as it rolled down the curve of her upper body. "Might I suggest that we take a study break?"

She grabbed the crystal back from him and returned to rolling it between her fingers. "Yes, you might suggest that."

He grabbed for the crystal and she stretched her arms just out of his reach. "Might I insist that we take a study break?"

She felt a prickling in the air around the crystal and it floated out of her hands into his. "You cheat." She flipped over onto her stomach and reached for the crystal. He restrained her with his other hand, holding the crystal high above their heads and leaning down to kiss her bruised chin.

"Only cheating to protect your lovely face, precious."

She lunged forward, but he held her back, shifting the crystal from the back of his hand to the front as easily as if it were weightless. And smirking while he did it.

"Now you're just rubbing it in."

"Of course I am." He made the crystal disappear and pulled her on top of him, trailing kisses over her neck and shoulders. "We've already established that I have no power over you, precious," he tickled her stomach and she squirmed, "so you can at least let me be the superior juggler."

His hands moved more insistently down her back and she moaned. "Not…fair…"

He kissed her gently and then with more intensity. "Nothing ever is."

There was another short sleep after that encounter, and when Sarah woke up she felt hungry, which was how they found themselves back in the bed, sitting across from each other and eating the cheese and wine from the bedside table as Jareth described the strangest things anyone had ever wished away.

"A car," he finally said, taking a sip of wine.

Sarah blinked. "A car? People can wish away inanimate objects?"

"Apparently so." Jareth fed her another piece of cheese. "In this case I believe the young man in question couldn't get the car to start and wished it away in frustration. I would have offered him the chance to run the labyrinth to reclaim it, of course, but the goblins dismantled it in a matter of minutes and turned most of the pieces into furniture and headgear." He smiled with genuine delight. "His threats were colorful."

Sarah idly reminded herself never to wish her computer away, no matter how many times it might crash.

Jareth's eyes momentarily took on a faraway cast. "Truly remarkable, what mortals wish for—or wish away—in their most desperate moments. Suffice it to say that no one has ever wished for world peace. Or for the goblins to take away all the murderers and thieves."

Sarah wrapped her legs around Jareth's waist so that she was sitting on top of his knees. "What would you wish for, then?"

"Me?" He trailed one finger along her earlobe and down her neck, and she let her head rest on his shoulder. "A strange question, and one I'd genuinely never thought to answer—I'm the wish granter, not the wisher."

"Humor me."

His hand trailed lower. "Well, there are at least one or two more challenging positions we haven't attempted—"

She playfully smacked his hand away. "I was thinking of a less carnal sort of wish."

"Says the naked girl with her legs wrapped around me." She started to move away and he pulled her tighter against him. "That was not a complaint."

She laughed. "Indulge my mortal curiosity, please." She lifted her head from his shoulder to look into his eyes. "What would the Goblin King wish for, in a world where he was the wisher and not the wish-granter?"

He sighed and ran a hand through his (now quite disheveled) hair, taking another sip of wine. Sarah waited, her hands making idle trails up and down his back.

When he finally spoke he seemed surprised by his answer. "An ending," he said.

She felt a pain in her chest. "An ending? You mean…death?"

"Yes." He smiled at the pained look on her face and kissed her cheek. "But not in the sense that you would understand it, precious. I am not melancholy. I do not despise my existence. I simply wish to know the sensation of mortality, of knowing that my every breath is moving me inevitably toward some end point, and thus that every breath and every action that I take has meaning, because my existence is finite."

His words made Sarah felt lightheaded. "Is that really what death is to you?"

He sighed. "Mortal history is so full of stories of people desperate to gain immortality. But if you read the stories closely, it almost never ends well. Their existence loses all meaning." He downed the last of the wine and set the glass on the table. "I simply want what mortals take for granted: a sense of urgency. The idea that there are things I must do now, or at least soon, because at some point the end will come for me, and I will not want my life to have been in vain."

"And perhaps…I wish for a glorious ending. Or at least a poetic one, one befitting a monarch. More "he stood on the parapets and removed his crown as the world burned," less "he granted wishes, and he berated the goblins, and every day stretched out across eternity, the same as the last."

Jareth's gaze had gone distant, and the look in his eyes—of what she imagined he was seeing off in some faraway, nonexistent future—made her heart ache. "I…never thought of it that way, I suppose," she said. "It's a gift, mortality, however much we might complain about it."

"Well, complaining is a beloved mortal pastime."

She smiled and gently disentangled herself from him, though his face looked pained and he tried to pull her back. Wrapping a sheet around herself, she went to stand by the window, where a slightly crooked moon and a collection of brilliant stars shone in a sky that looked painted. As before, she was never sure how much of any of it was real, but found that she didn't really care, because the feelings and the sensations were as real as anything.

She looked down at her body, which certainly bore the memory of everything they'd done.

Yeah, I'd say all of that was real.

She gazed out at the moon and stars, sensing the irony in the fact that she didn't want this to end (but that it must) and that what Jareth wanted most in the world was an ending.

She felt him come up behind her and wrap his arms around her shoulders, pulling her into the warmth of his chest. She smiled and leaned back against him.

"I could…write you an ending."

She could tell that he was smiling when he spoke. "Could you, now?"

"It wouldn't be the same, I know. But it would be something you could hold onto. A tangible idea of an ending." She turned around and let the sheet fall to the floor, wrapping her arms around his neck and kissing him. "It might be a comfort."

He stared at her for a long time and reached out to trace the outline of her face with his finger, as though memorizing it. "Yes, it would be a comfort."

She suddenly wrapped her arms around him fiercely and kissed his face and neck, and he laughed and lifted her effortlessly into his arms, moving back toward the bed. "Aiming to make me forget about death, precious?"

She murmured a "yes" as she kissed his mouth with particular fierceness. "You may want an ending," she gasped, laughing as he laid her down, "but I'd be grateful if you'd reorder time for just a bit longer."

He pinned her hands above her head and she moaned with the pleasant weight of his body on top of hers, savoring the feeling of every curve and crevice fitting together in perfect alignment. "Demanding girl," he whispered.

"I learned from the best," she whispered back, laughing as he bit her ear.

He gave her a long, slow kiss while both his hands trailed a hot, intensely pleasurable trail over her breasts and down her stomach. "Right, then." He rolled over so that she was straddling him, smiling as she leaned over to cover his face with the dark cascade of her hair, her hips shifting against him until he gasped. "Make me feel alive again."

Author's note: Whew! That one took a while to tweak, and heaven knows it's not perfect, but I think it'll do for now. Incidentally, my favorite Labyrinth fandom example of what Jareth tastes / smells like is "the ozone smell of summer lightning" (courtesy of Pika-la-Cynique in The Tshirt Incident). I went with something seasonal as well, maybe because "cinnamon" reminds me too much of pumpkin spice lattes and "leather" seemed inappropriate if (for once) he wasn't actually wearing leather.

I went back and forth over whether to write an epilogue, and then said epilogue sort of wrote itself, so it'll be up soon. :)