Fade into You: Chapter 20 - I Told You So
Sarah hadn't seen Jareth all week, too preoccupied with the piles of work she'd studiously ignored while galavanting about, falling in love with Goblin Kings. She'd warned Jareth she'd need at least a few days to get her life back to some semblance of 'together' without distraction.
He'd agreed as he snuggled her with an air-compressing squeeze the morning after their beach date. They'd awoken entangled, Sarah still nude and Jareth only in his linen pants, searing a hot line along her side. A pang of panicked guilt had seized her as soon as her eyes had opened, and when Jareth asked, she'd assured him it had nothing to do with him, and everything to do with skirting all of her responsibilities and the fact that she'd woken up without even knowing what day it was.
"Take this," Jareth had said, pressing a crystal orb into her hands after she'd finished tugging on her sweats. "We can send messages back and forth." He'd sounded slightly nervous as he added, "If you wish."
Sarah had smiled at the gesture. "How?"
"Simply touch the crystal and speak," he'd answered.
She'd laughed at that. "A magical walkie-talkie."
Jareth had looked perplexed at the comparison, and Sarah shook her head dismissively. "Never mind," she'd said, shouldering her duffle bag. "Thanks."
She'd kissed him then, a chaste press of her lips to his. "Think of me," she'd told him, before scattering a few more kisses over his cheeks and forehead.
"Unendingly," Jareth had promised, smiling against her onslaught of parting affection.
When she'd passed through the tapestry into her bathroom, she'd been surprised to see it still reflected in her mirror—hanging behind her—a perfect rendition of the crashing pink tides, aqua sky and pearly beach.
Sarah had watched it for a moment, waiting for it to disappear.
When it didn't, she'd smiled.
The week proceeded without much room for missing him, but Sarah found herself thinking about him constantly anyway. The crystal remained untouched on her bedside table for three days before she finally dared to reach out a hesitant finger.
"I miss you," she said without much forethought, her fingertip ghosting over the spherical surface. It suffused with a warm peachy hue as she spoke.
Sarah waited, her heart in her throat like an infatuated teenager calling a crush. She wondered absently when she'd gotten so damn squishy.
A few short moments passed before the crystal illuminated with a rich indigo.
"And I, you," Jareth's deep baritone replied as if he was speaking from everywhere in her bedroom all at once. The color of the orb didn't immediately fade, and Sarah imagined him searching for something else to say, finger perched on his own crystal somewhere a world away. Finally, the light dimmed without another word.
Sarah's stomach plummeted a bit. She wanted him to say more. She wanted to say more, too, about how cold her nights had been without him, about how much she'd missed his teasing and easy company. And his mouth, his hands, his—
Her phone rang, startling her from her thoughts.
"Hello?" she blurted into the receiver.
"Sarah?" came a voice from the other end. "I'm calling about your request to buy my tickets for Friday's performance."
"Oh!" she nearly squealed. "Are they still available?"
"They are," the speaker on the other end of the line told her, sounding pleased to be offering good news. "Private balcony seats."
Sarah was elated. She hadn't expected the random response to the online ad to pan out. She finished up the phone conversation, ironing out details to pay for and acquire the tickets the next day.
As soon as she hung up, her fingers were reaching for the crystal again. "Hey," she said, then shook her head at the lackluster greeting.
Indigo lit up her bedside. "Hello, Sarah Bear," Jareth's voice purred. "Still missing me?"
When the light faded, Sarah touched the sphere again. "Shut up, and also, what are you doing on Friday night?"
"Dating," came Jareth's voice, made all the more velvety by the crystal's purple-blue gleam. "I hope."
Sarah failed to suppress a giggle. "Meet me at my place around six," she told him as peach light blossomed from her fingertips.
Jareth's sharp laugh took up the entire space of her bedroom. "Around six, or at six?" he asked, a pointed comment on her ambiguous commitment to promptness. "This is already sounding very Sarah-Timey."
She found herself snorting at that, and let him hear it, her fingers stroking the sphere. "At six," she amended. "I'll be ready. Wear something…nice, but not over the top."
A warm indigo chuckle. "Are you so sure about leaving that up to my interpretation?"
Sarah smirked. "I'm wearing a nice dress and a pea-coat if that helps at all." Her fingers lifted from the crystal before she hastily replaced them, the orb glowing peach again. "Not a ball gown. Just a dress."
"Noted," Jareth said. "At six, then."
The week trudged onward, seemingly determined to ignore her desperation to be back in his presence. It was a strange feeling, to be unsated after having so much of him to herself for days.
To want so deeply.
It scared her a little, still. But her excitement outweighed the lingering trepidations that momentarily gripped her from time to time.
When Friday evening finally arrived, it found Sarah sitting at her vanity in an oversized button-down flannel shirt. She was feeling pretty smug about her time management. Her eyeliner had gone on without a hitch, and her curling iron was cooling beside her. She pressed her lips together and smiled at her reflection, pleased at how the dark berry lipstick she'd painted on complimented her green eyes.
Jareth appeared close behind her, and her breath caught at the sight of him, resplendently dressed and absolutely over the top—but stunning and perfect and everything. The jacket he wore was black leather, angular and otherworldly despite the fact that it looked more human than anything else she'd seen him wear before, aside from the clothes of hers he'd borrowed for camping. It slashed across his soft, silken maroon shirt in asymmetrical lines, drawing her attention to the amethyst moon dangling over his open chest. Her gaze dipped lower to his black, pleated trousers, cinched snugly at his high waist. A long path of gold buttons fastened them down the front, and Sarah's eyes lingered there—perhaps a beat too long—before she turned in her seat to embrace him around his hips.
"Hi, Lanks," she said. The buttons of his trousers were cool against her flushing cheek.
A booted foot tapped in mock impatience. "You said you'd be ready," he scolded, his gloved hands finding her shoulders and squeezing.
"I am," she insisted, disentangling herself from him and turning back around. "I just need help with my dress, though now that I think about it, your track record with zippers isn't great."
Jareth chuckled, and his eyes—smokey with kohl—danced with hers in the mirror. "I'd rather unzip, but I'm certain I can manage."
Sarah smirked at him and stood. "You can unbutton," she offered, gesturing down at her oversized flannel.
"A worthy compromise," Jareth said, his hands snaking around to her front as he pressed in close behind her.
His chin perched on her shoulder, deft fingers sliding buttons from holes.
She rested her temple against his, holding her breath as he slipped the halves of the open shirt down and off her arms. A shiver ran through her as the cool air kissing her naked skin mingled with the warmth of his stare in the mirror.
"My dress is hanging behind the door," Sarah told him, even though it nearly pained her to do so. Adding another barrier between them was the last thing she wanted, with him so close, looking at her like she was a thing to be devoured.
Jareth moved away from her, just a momentary absence, but one Sarah felt with an uneasy ache. He returned with her dress, a slinky, berry-colored satin number she'd maybe—definitely—splurged on for this occasion.
He held the dress up to examine it. "Where is the rest?" he asked, though he sounded more than pleased.
Sarah huffed and snatched it from him. He steadied her with a hand on her shoulder as she stepped into the dress. She could feel his attention dragging along with the material as it slipped up her body.
His eyes—two burning black coals haloed in rings of icy blue—caught hers in the mirror as his fingers found the zipper at the base of her spine. He tugged it upward gently, the dress sealing over her skin with an unsettling feeling of finality.
"Do you like it?" Sarah asked, her voice sounding small and far away under the weight of his stare.
Jareth's gaze slid from her face, down her throat, and along her clavicle before raking over her breasts, her hips, her thighs. He moved in close again, the buttons on his trousers outlining the shape of his erection pressing against her.
His breath was hot near her ear. "How much time do we have?"
Sarah's stomach fluttered at the implications of the question—at the feeling of his touches, just the slightest dance of gloved fingertips up and down her arms. Her heart began to pound when he turned her and crowded her backward until the backs of her thighs bumped into her vanity.
"How much time?" Jareth repeated, his tone dripping with an unconcealed heat that had Sarah's belly coiling in response.
She swallowed hard as he purposefully tugged a glove off and set it beside her, the determined look in his eyes leaving no room for misconstruing his intentions.
"The cab will be here at 6:30," she told him, feeling disappointment tugging her lips into a pout.
It faded as Jareth grasped her hips, lifting her to sit on the vanity's edge. His bare hand skimmed below the hem of her dress before splaying along the inside of her thigh.
Sarah's heart clenched, but whether it was from desire or nerves she couldn't be sure. "Jareth, we don't have time," she protested weakly even as a slick of heat bloomed between her legs.
Jareth leaned down to nip at her jaw. "More than enough time to take you apart with my fingers, I think." His nostrils flared as he pulled away. "You want to let me."
"It's not about wanting," she admitted. The pressure of performing under such time constraints had her rattled. "I just can't—"
"You can," he insisted, dipping to fan kisses along her collarbone. "Tell me, 'yes.'"
And despite her worries, the word slipped past Sarah's lips in a desperate whisper.
Jareth obliged immediately, growling when his fingertips found her warm and wet for him. "Gods, I've missed the feel of you," he said before pressing the palm of his hand hard against her already swollen clit.
Sarah gasped at the rough pressure of it. It nearly startled her, the urgency of it so juxtaposed with his careful, tender touches.
His eyes flicked to hers as if reading her thoughts. "Relax," he soothed, his palm grinding into her as his fingers traced her slick seam. "I've got you."
"I know," she breathed.
And she did.
Jareth always had her.
Sarah's hands searched for something to hold on to before settling on the jagged lapels of his jacket.
His lips moved over the exposed skin of her neck, her jaw, her chest—everywhere but her mouth. She assumed he was avoiding ruining her lipstick, and was thankful for it as much as it had her aching for his lips on hers.
Her memory briefly transported her back to the pool, where she'd taken him into her mouth before so much as a kiss had been shared between them. Of how he'd suckled and teased her folds with his tongue as she'd straddled his face—a warning and a promise of the kiss to come.
The thrilling thought of it had her more than ready for his finger as it pressed into her without preamble. She rewarded him with a moan, and her legs instinctively hooked around him to improve his access.
Jareth hummed, low and rumbling. The approval lacing through it had Sarah clenching around him in reverent possessiveness.
"Yes," he purred against her throat. The gloved hand at her hip tightened, holding her in place as a second finger joined the first. "You take my fingers so well, Sarah."
They curved, the pads quickly finding the sensitive, rippling flesh of her front wall. He massaged roughly, and the sudden friction of it sent a shock of electricity through her, knocking the air from her lungs. Each drag of his fingers over that spot was searing, made only more intense by the press of his thumb. Sarah's back bowed as he began to caress her clit in sharp circles, keeping rhythm with his thrusting fingers.
Jareth pulled back to stare at her, and the heat that had been coiling low in Sarah's belly flared at the look of determined passion in his eyes. Her breath was coming in short, ragged puffs as she struggled to hold his gaze, her hands clutching his jacket desperately as he pumped into her.
"That's it," he coaxed as her inner walls began to flutter around his beckoning fingers.
Sarah let the praise wrap around her as he fucked her over the edge, her climax abrupt and fierce as it shredded through any lingering doubts she may have had about the possibility of it. Her head tipped back, her eyes closed, and she could feel his lips at her throat, soothing and warm against her flushed skin.
Jareth's hand had barely slipped from her when she heard a car horn honk outside.
She let out a shaky breath as she righted herself. His gaze snagged hers as she slipped on her heels—the blown pupils twinkling with something between pride and arrogance.
She ignored him for lack of anything coherent to say. "Wow" and "Thank you" and "Jesusfuckingchrist" all felt a bit hollow.
An unspoken I told you so haunted her as she walked to the cab, feeling wobbly and boneless. Jareth, barely concealing a smirk, guided her into the backseat before slipping in beside her.
A long beat passed as the cab driver shifted into drive and pulled away from the curb.
"I told you so," Jareth gloated, seemingly unable to hold back his self-satisfied glee any longer as he turned to beam at her.
Sarah shoved him with her shoulder but sent him a quick, indulgent smile anyway. "Consider me happily proven wrong."
Both his eyebrows shot up to his hairline. "Words I never thought I'd hear from you."
"Shush," she said, blushing.
Jareth did not shush.
"Where are we going?" he asked, poking her in the side with a needling, gloved finger.
Sarah grinned, thankful for the distraction, and rummaged in her purse. She withdrew two tickets before handing one to Jareth.
He snatched the black ticket decorated with a pair of lambent yellow eyes out of her fingers. "'Cats,'" he read aloud flatly. His brow furrowed as his gaze rose to meet hers.
"It's a musical," she clarified.
Jareth's eyes lit up and he—by the gods—actually bounced in his seat. He spent the rest of the drive peppering her with questions about the play that Sarah steadfastly refused to answer.
Thank you to my wonderful beta, Geliot99
A somewhat short chapter, but I hope you enjoyed it nonetheless! Please let me know what you think.
I hate to say this, folks, but this tale is winding down. I'm guessing just a few more chapters are left (don't worry, I will fulfill all unfulfilled tags). I'm grieving already, and it's not even over yet. My entire heart and soul have poured onto these digital pages.
Thank you so, so much to everyone who has spent energy on reading this story. Extra thank you to those of you who have shared your thoughts and feelings along the way. You all are wonderful and your encouragement has been instrumental in giving me the momentum to propel this slow burn forward.
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As always, I can be found on Tumblr at foxfaceinthewindow
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