Fade into You: Chapter 9 - Downward Stroke. Left. Right.
The breeze Sarah had promised flirted with the ends of their hair, coiling together raven and silver-gold strands. Life thrummed around them. Reeds rustled, critters skittered, and insects and frogs called out desperately for love. A dark silhouette etched patterns across the bright surface of the rising moon that approached fullness on the horizon.
Sarah watched Jareth track the owl's movements from where he sat beside her near the bank. "If you want to take wing, I won't mind," she told him.
He smiled wistfully and rested his head on her shoulder. "She wouldn't like it. Her babies are nearby,"
Jareth smelled like cinnamon and the fading warmth of day. Sarah wanted to bottle it. She pressed her cheek to the top of his head and leaned into him. They were quiet for a time, the sounds of the night lulling them into a peaceful calm.
"You were right," Jareth murmured from the crook of her neck. "The way the trees frame the reflection casts an illusion of continuity between water and sky."
"Do you like it?" Sarah wondered aloud, taken aback by the nervousness edging into her voice.
She lifted the bottle of cinnamon whiskey they'd been sharing to her mouth and let it flow past her lips. She'd been hesitant to buy the liquor, preferring wine, but it was the only thing they could find that wasn't bottled in glass at the last stop on their drive. She was glad now for the pleasant tingling that warmed her skin against the chilled air.
A moon-white hand snaked out to clasp her ankle. "I love it," he announced, giving her leg a shake with each over-enunciated syllable.
"I'm glad," she told him with a grin. "Thank you for getting me out here. I probably would have never been back otherwise."
Jareth uncurled himself, and his eyes sought hers. A smile stretched when he saw her expression. "I should be thanking you for allowing me to come."
Her chest tightened with a sudden emotion she felt emboldened to share. She wondered if it was the influence of the whiskey as she admitted, "I'm happy you're here so we can make new memories together."
For a flash, Jareth's eyes were brighter than the moon and all the stars in the sky. His lip found its way between his teeth, where it grew pale under the pressure of his bite. He pushed her outgrown fringe away from her face and stared at her hard.
Heat spilled across Sarah's skin; she was sure he could feel it beneath his probing fingertips.
"What a honeyed tongue you possess," Jareth cooed at her, his freed bottom lip flooding with color again. "I never knew."
Sarah scoffed dismissively even as her heart skipped a beat. "You don't bite your lip," she pointed out. "Copycat."
His thumb brushed over her chin and pressed there lightly. "Perhaps I enjoy the pain of it," he mused, his smirk a twisting challenge.
She ignored it, though his touches sent pulses of pleasure along her nerves that she couldn't blame on cinnamon whiskey. Her gaze dragged away from his mouth to watch the owl cut across the evening sky. "I'm so glad you found a new vice," she remarked lamely, but she was thinking about his earlier words. They pulled and poked in a way she didn't like.
Jareth's head tipped in her peripheral vision. "Then why do you look like I just told you that you dreamed up Sondheim, and you'll forget it all within an hour?" he asked.
Sarah forgot herself and laughed at that, but it faded quickly, replaced by a knitted-brow frown. "I don't have a honeyed tongue." She spat out the phrase like she couldn't bear the taste of it. "You make it sound like I've never said a sincere thing in my life."
His other hand moved over her sweatpants from ankle to knee, where it rested comfortingly. "You're always sincere," he told her. "But you aren't often so free with your feelings."
She pinned him with an accusatory look. "You know everything about me."
"I'm learning," he said, giving her knee a squeeze. "I do know you think pizza without pineapple isn't pizza."
Sarah laughed. "I stand by that."
"As do I," he agreed before continuing. "I know you like the smell of gasoline, wet pavement, and old books handled by mysterious strangers."
"Mmm," she concurred. "Not at the same time, ideally, but those are the very best of smells."
Jareth leaned in close and gave a performative sniff to her forehead. "Debatable," he declared with a grin.
"Wow," Sarah exclaimed, letting her eyes grow wide with pretend shock. "Intense."
"Oh, yes, I know you like your personal space," he lamented with a forced frown. He moved as if to pull away before gluing himself to her side even closer than before, both arms wrapped around her bent leg possessively. "But I also know you enjoy when I invade it."
She snorted. "If that's true, I'm afraid what else you know."
His grin melted into something warmer, crinkles finding their places at the corners of his eyes. "I know you can't be trusted with scissors after a breakup," he advised, letting his cheek rest on her knee.
"That was one time!" Sarah argued though she was laughing again. "And I needed a trim."
Jareth squeezed her trapped leg, and she felt his rumbling chuckle all the way down to her toes. He studied her for a beat before saying, "I know Mozart lights you on fire, Brahms makes you cry, and Beethoven does both."
Sarah's laugh died in her throat as her heart slowed and sped back up two-fold. They'd never discussed how music influenced her moods. He could only know from paying attention, from being uncannily perceptive about everything she did. The observation was unexpected, and it touched her so deeply it almost hurt.
She was brought out of her thoughts by the gentle rocking of her leg. Back and forth. She'd been swaying with him, she realized, though she didn't know for how long. She'd wandered off to follow the owl again, letting her emotions flow into the pond.
Jareth's gaze was warm when she found him patiently waiting, his voice soft as he spoke his next words. "I can know all that, Sarah, and still not know what you're feeling."
The laugh she barked out rang with forced nonchalance. "It's not like you brandish your feelings around," she countered, hating herself for how defensive she sounded even as she bracketed 'brandish' with spirit fingers.
Jareth's stare pierced through her—his starlight eyes almost begging for truth. "You know how I feel," he told her.
"How could I possibly know?" she protested, balking under his reassuring hold even as the dishonesty in her question made her stomach twist with unease. She knew.
"You know," he repeated, unshakably calm. "And you know I want to tell you, regardless. But they would be wasted words if you're not ready to hear them."
"I thought you didn't want to know," she replied quietly, thinking back to the day he'd found her crying to a muted sinking ship. "I tried to tell you."
"You don't believe that," he observed with a knowing smile. "And we can both agree your admission was ill-timed."
Sarah felt the corners of her lips lift and asked, "What do you want to know?"
"Everything," he confided, his cinnamon smile spreading. "But perhaps save declarations of love for another time. I'm above forcing that out of you, at least."
She shushed him, though blood rushed in her ears, and her mouth ran dry. "What, then?"
Jareth released her leg and sat up to face her. Criss-cross applesauce. "What do you feel?" he inquired, his head on a tilt.
Sarah spluttered around a mouthful of whiskey. "Now?"
"Sure," he said at the end of a feigned long-suffering sigh.
"Well." She dragged out the word while she thought about it. "Sort of buzzed, but not really. Full of hotdogs and marshmallows."
"You feel"—Jareth paused for effect—"full of hotdogs." His eyes rolled like she was a lost cause. "Is that the deepest you can reach?
"Fine," Sarah huffed, turning to mirror him and crossing her legs. "Why don't you ask what you really want to know?"
"Alright," he acquiesced, inching closer. His palms cupped her kneecaps encouragingly. "What do you feel with me?"
Sarah sucked in a gasp she tried to hide. She wasn't surprised by the question but was shocked he had actually asked it. His thumbs stroked as she searched for the right word. "Magnetism," she finally divulged, wanting to shove it back down her throat as soon as she'd heard herself say it.
Jareth's brows drew together like he was trying to decide whether or not he liked her answer. "Can you tell me more about that?"
"It's like…" she trailed off before shaking her head. "I don't know. It sounds silly."
"Try me," Jareth implored, his thumbs pressing lightly into muscle. "I'm fairly understanding for a moody old King."
Sarah considered him nervously. Her lip slid between her teeth, and she let herself chew it despite how Jareth followed the movement like a raptor stalking prey.
"There's a polarity to us that somehow makes perfect sense," she told him, relieved to have begun her confession. She took a steadying breath, and then she said the hard part. "I'm pulled to you, J. Sometimes, it's almost painful."
His hands stilled while conflicting emotions whirled in his irises. "Why painful?"
She closed her eyes and listened to the cattails brushing against each other in the languid breeze. It centered her, somehow, drawing out the truth she hadn't yet acknowledged from deep within. "When I'm not around you, I want to be," she answered. "When I'm near you, part of me is dreading when I won't be again."
Jareth's hum was both sympathetic and unsatisfied. "But that's not all, is it?" he urged softly, fingers smoothing again. "There's something else there. Something that pinches and nags and holds you captive."
When her eyes opened, they didn't seek his. She focused on the image of the pond-sky and tried to find the words to explain a fear she didn't want to speak out loud—to breathe life into. She could feel him staring with those pleading eyes, and she buckled under the pressure of it.
"I've wondered if it's just a you thing." The admission spilled from her mouth before she could find a more delicate way of phrasing it, and Jareth's fingers tensed around her knees.
"What do you mean, a me thing?" he asked, sounding cautiously curious.
Sarah broke her gaze away from the water to send Jareth a patronizing look. "I mean that you're a breathtakingly beautiful ethereal being with the sole purpose of tempting me and every skill and spell available at your fingertips to do so," she stated with the air of someone explaining a brutally obvious fact. "Dummy."
To Sarah's surprise, Jareth didn't preen at her compliments or take her banter-bait. Instead, he grimaced. "Spells?"
Her stomach sank at the hurt that painted his features. She didn't like that look on his face at all, so she abandoned her attempts at levity. "I just assumed that it was built into you. Like how ceaselessly distracting you are and how I feel sick whenever I try to lie to you."
Jareth was silent for a long time; his lips pressed tight into a firm line as he considered his reply. When he spoke, his voice was serious but tender. "Sarah," he said, in that tone someone takes when delivering news they know will be hard to swallow. "My magic holds no influence on how distracting you find me or how comfortable you are with telling me a lie."
Sarah stared at him. "Really?" she commented flatly after a heavy silence.
"Really," he confirmed, swooping in to press a kiss to her temple. "It's an us thing." The words were a whispered promise against her ear. When he pulled away, his smile was twinkling and dangerous. "I know because I feel it too."
"You do?" she managed as her throat constricted and her eyes began to prickle. She banished the urge to cry but let the happy fizzing feeling linger.
"I do," Jareth confessed with a half-smirk. "Though it makes sense that you thought I could be toying with you."
"Why would you say it like that?" she admonished, pulling a face.
"Because I do toy with you," he reminded her, eyes dancing with mischief. "Openly. Often."
Sarah laughed and let her eyes roll. "Constantly, you mean." Her hand came up to cradle his cheek. "But not like that."
"No," he assured her, smiling into her palm. "Never like that."
When she returned his smile, she felt a heavy weight slide off her shoulders. She hadn't realized what a burden it had been to carry her fears around like it was her job. She felt lighter, a little proud of herself, and grateful she had shared.
"You know," she ventured, stroking his cheekbone before dropping her hand to her lap. "I think this is our best date yet."
Jareth grinned wide, mouth full of serrated stars. "I think you're right," he agreed, raising the bottle to the moon in a toast before taking a swig and passing it to her. "Much better than charcuterie and paint fumes."
Sarah laughed, relieved that he was joking again. "That wasn't so bad."
He shuddered and shot her a disbelieving look. "You turned a shade between puce and blueberry I hope never to see again."
"Yeah, well, that part wasn't ideal," Sarah conceded. She took a sip of whiskey and added, "But I love that I get to see our art every day."
Jareth's eyes lit up. "Do you?"
"Yours, specifically," she clarified. "I don't think I've ever told you."
"You haven't," Jareth corroborated with a smirk. "I assumed I was rather a hindrance."
"No," Sarah said and smiled. "Not a hindrance."
His fingers flexed and slid down her calves. He leaned forward slightly and purred, "I like it when you tell me things I don't know."
She lifted her hands to Jareth's shoulders and pushed him back gently. "I can do better than that," she promised, letting her fingers tangle in the hair at his nape.
"Can you?" he challenged, excitement rolling across his face.
"Oh, yes," Sarah told him coyly. "I'll even tell you a secret."
Jareth ran his tongue over his lower lip. "Delicious," he hissed. "Do tell."
She laced her fingers behind his neck and leaned back to level him with an appraising look. "Every morning, I drink my coffee under the labyrinth painted above the kitchen window," she supplied.
Jareth inclined his head.
"You know that," Sarah acknowledged. "But you don't know how much trying to solve it has taken over my routine."
His head tipped back with a laugh that rocked Sarah forward.
"You know how much work burns me out," Sarah went on. "And after work, sometimes I'm too uninspired to paint."
"How dreary," Jareth noted, frowning at the turn she'd taken.
"It is," she said, though she was smiling at him. "But I feel hopeful when I see that staircase to nowhere."
He looked at her dubiously. "I hardly see how a staircase to nowhere would inspire anything aside from existential dread."
"It reminds me that you don't always know where you're going. It's about the process. The journey. The adventure," she explained. "The fuckin' ride, man!" she added, flopping down on her side and tugging Jareth with her.
He laughed and followed, stretching beside her on the blanket. "Inspiring."
"And then there's Big Brother, my tiny, constant companion," Sarah said, letting her arms slip from his neck. Her hands hovered in his hair and rolled the ends between pinched fingers.
"Big Brother?" Jareth questioned with a raised brow.
"Yeah. BB. The Crystal. You know, the one who rolls along the floorboards and follows me around my apartment?" Sarah reminded him.
Jareth looked both amused and mildly uncomfortable. "I think you may be personifying it more than you should."
"He's like my own personal haunting." She shrugged. "I've grown attached."
He chuckled. "As positively darling and unalarming as that sounds, I think I'll inspect it all the same. Just in case."
"Leave BB alone," she scolded. "He stays."
Jareth pulled a pout and rolled onto his back. "If only you were as pleased with my stone fruit reproductions."
Sarah was quiet as she lay beside him. She could feel a playful smile tugging at her lips.
He nudged her foot with his. "Oh, is that the secret, then? That salacious little peach is your favorite of them all?"
"Yep," she admitted with another shrug. "That's the secret."
Jareth's eyes narrowed. "I was joking. You are not."
"I'm not," Sarah vowed. "I don't leave the house without brushing my fingers over it in a very specific way."
"Show me." It was as much a command as it was a request.
She reached moon-limned fingers to the sky and demonstrated. Her eyes slid closed as she traced the delicate outline of a peach. First, the stem in a downward stroke, and then the flesh. Left lobe. Right.
Jareth lay his arm across her lap, and she looked over at him with an arched brow.
"Let me feel it," he said. A request this time.
Sarah encircled his wrist lightly with one hand and outlined the peach again on his palm with the other. It was Jareth's eyes that fluttered closed then as she carved out the downward stroke of the stem. He hummed while her fingertips engraved the fleshy lobes over his heartline.
"What do you feel?" Sarah asked with a voice barely above a whisper.
His other hand lifted to touch his mouth. "I feel nectar on my lips. My tongue," he told her as she drew the shape again—Down. Left. Right. His fingers trailed a path from his mouth to his throat. "It's dripping down my chin."
And for a moment, Sarah could see rivulets of peach juice running in parallel with the veins in his neck, skipping over the thrum of his pulse. She wanted to smooth it away with her tongue as much as she craved being covered in it.
His eyes opened and locked with hers. Whatever he saw on Sarah's face must have pleased him—his serene expression melting into a smirk that dripped with heat. "You want to taste it, don't you, Sarah?"
She did. She wanted. And there was a heavy heartbeat or two where she almost could before it was gone.
Jareth waited. He waited and leered and smirked his peach juice smirk.
Sarah was rooted to the ground. Her mind raced with imagery of sticky shared kisses, of tasting, but she felt too frozen to move.
When she didn't respond, Jareth sighed and rolled himself to his feet. His hand extended to hers, and he had that we're good look on his face. "Bedtime, then," he said cheerfully.
She felt more regret than relief as she let him haul her to her feet, her lips suddenly dry and lonely and boring. "Definitely," she agreed before sending him a small smile. "Let's go zip some sleeping bags together."
A/N:
Thank you Geliot99 for beta-reading and being awesome as heck.
Pheewwww!
That was a long chapter, and I hope you liked it! I'm so excited to have it posted. I can't wait to share more with you! Thank you for sticking with me, especially to those who clicked on this fic because of the tags and are very patiently waiting for me to fulfill them ;)
And thank you to everyone who has taken the time to share your thoughts and reactions. I can't tell you how happy it makes me, and I love hearing what resonated with you.
On that note, what did you think?