Fade into You: Chapter 21 - Jellicle Juleps
The crowd was an eclectic amalgamation of patrons—some in evening finery, others in furry cat costumes. A few even had full-faces of makeup on, complete with prosthetic whiskers.
Jareth was entranced by the hubbub as Sarah led him through the throng. She had to pause and backtrack on the way to their seats several times after discovering he'd fallen out of step with her.
On one such occasion, she'd found him obliviously cutting in line at the merch table like he was immune to such basic social decorum.
"Sorry about him," Sarah said to the bemoaning patrons he'd confidently stepped in front of.
"Who does he think he is, some sort of king?" someone griped.
"Something like that," Sarah agreed over her shoulder, hooking her arm with Jareth's and towing him away.
Jareth, still ostensibly confused about why anyone was miffed at him, shot Sarah a questioning look. "I simply wished to purchase goods from the merchant."
"No cutsies, J," she admonished.
"Mine is a lawless life," Jareth told her, though he let her guide him to the back of the queue without further complaint.
Sarah quickly decided, after only a few short moments, that Jareth was an absolute nightmare to stand in line with. The linear path that was so clearly set for them seemed like an impossible task for him to stick to as he bopped around, distracted by the fanfare like an errant toddler. His excitement was contagious, and Sarah couldn't help but grin even as she wrangled him back time and time again to stand beside her.
When they finally reached the merch table, the seller eyed Jareth with lingering resentment, having apparently not forgiven his earlier faux pas of slowing her line down.
"You again," she said, before setting her mouth in a thin line of disapproval. "What do you want?"
Her tone was not kind or welcoming, and Jareth visibly recoiled at being spoken to in such a manner.
"Ew," he said with a hand clutching over his heart as though maximally offended, and then, "What?" when Sarah elbowed him.
She sent him a look that warned, behave.
Jareth huffed and turned back to the seller. "I'll take that poster, a hat, and two of those shirts." He leaned closer over the counter. "And ooh, is that a pin?"
The seller nodded, unimpressed with his enthusiasm.
"Two pins, then," Jareth added, rocking in place—heel-to-toe—giddy with anticipation of his new treasures. He pointed to a tote bag. "And that satchel."
Sarah—mentally crunching numbers as the seller added items to the pile on the counter—would have cringed at the total, had Jareth not had a record of mysteriously procuring human money.
When the seller looked dubiously between him and the merchandise in a you-gonna-pay-for-all-this? glare, Jareth grinned and flashed a credit card. Sarah choked back a laugh when she saw the tiny portraits of Teacake and Curd printed across the front.
The seller took his card with a skepticism that only seemed to double as she tonelessly read, "Jareth Lanks." She glanced up at Jareth with narrowed eyes. "I'm going to need to see some I.D."
Sarah, certain Jareth had no such thing, readied herself to intervene. She was surprised when an I.D. card inexplicably slipped from his jacket sleeve like it took up permanent residence there. She caught a glance at it as he passed it to the seller, and stifled another laugh at his photo that was at least eighty-percent frantic mullet, and the eye color listed as, 'N/A.'
The seller compared the two cards and shrugged before running the credit card through the reader. She looked shocked when 'approved' flashed across the LCD screen. She handed the cards back to Jareth, who smugly disappeared them in his sleeve. "All sales are final," she told him as both an obvious dismissal and invitation to never return.
Jareth gathered the rolled-up poster and bag of merchandise with the exhilarated air of a dragon adding to their hoard.
A warm affection bloomed in Sarah's chest as she watched him stroll away confidently without any idea where he was going. He looked so damn happy—'Cats' tote and paper tube clutched in his hands—despite being clearly directionless and overstimulated.
She couldn't help but love him all the more for it.
"Hey, Gangles," she called out to him as he pranced his merry way in the opposite direction of the stairs leading to their seats.
Jareth did a full about-face and looked genuinely surprised to see that Sarah was not with him. He strode over to where she waited.
"Are you regretting bringing me here yet?" he asked, eyes twinkling with mirth.
"Not in the slightest," she told him, linking their arms again. "But the night is young."
Jareth stopped them on the way to the stairs with a jarring lurch, his attention drawn to something Sarah was too distracted to have immediately noticed. She followed his gaze to a bar he was taking inventory of.
"I don't think we have time, J," she told him, though it pained her to do so. She could really use a drink herself after corralling him for the past half-hour. "It'll take too long. We need to be in our seats by eight."
"It's 7:37," Jareth informed her, flourishing the garish watch that had made an abrupt reappearance on his gloved wrist like he didn't have an innate sense of time without it. "And I think I've proven I have a better grasp of how long things will take than you, my blushing beauty."
Sarah, against all effort, flushed at the reminder.
He smirked a self-satisfied smirk.
"Fine," she conceded, snatching his hand out of her face where he waved the watch demonstratively.
Jareth was slightly more tolerable as they stood in line, buoyed by his merchandise and Sarah's watchful gaze.
The frazzled bartender was unamused when they reached the counter and Jareth began pelting him with questions like, "How long was the bourbon barrel-aged for?" and, "Is the muddled mint spearmint or peppermint?"
Sarah stepped in and ordered for them both, sending the bartender an apologetic smile.
Jellicle Juleps in hand, she ushered him up the stairs. She was glad they had some time to spare, as it was quite a hike to the upper level where their seats were.
She'd known their tickets were for a private box, but she hadn't anticipated just how private the space would be. She was pleasantly surprised as an attendant directed them through a curtain leading to a balcony with only two red velvet seats. A short wall wrapped around the curved overhang of the balcony, separating them from the buzzing mezzanine below.
They took their seats just as the house lights began to flash, offering a warning to any straggling patrons that the show was about to start.
Sarah had seen 'Cats' before, and having left the experience unsure of how she felt about it, was more than happy to spend most of the first act observing Jareth. He perched on the edge of his seat, completely enraptured. His expression was ever-shifting—befuddlement, horror, and awe warring for dominance.
She couldn't suppress the fuzzy feelings bubbling within her as she watched him, so enthralled with the chaos of the production. Her eyes roamed from his face to his throat, where his Adam's apple bobbed as he chuckled. To his bare chest where his breath caught at a particularly melancholic melody.
Her thoughts meandered to less innocent corners of her mind as her gaze dropped lower, and she was reminded, with a tension coiling low in her belly, of the golden buttons of his trousers that begged to be undone.
Jareth briefly snagged her wandering gaze, a knowing sparkle in his eyes. He visibly inhaled through his nose as if to remind her he could smell the effect her thoughts were having on her.
Naughty, naughty, his smirk said as he booped her nose before returning his attention to the show.
And he was right. Sarah's brain had descended fully into the gutter, and she was already formulating a plan that had her celebrating the fact that she'd remembered to slip on a pair of panties.
Raucous applause startled her back into reality as the house lights came back on, signaling the end of the first act and the beginning of intermission.
"Oh, Sarah," Jareth said excitedly as he turned to her with a manic, face-splitting grin. "It's fundamentally grotesque and I love—" He broke off when he saw what Sarah could only assume was a lecherous, determined look on her face.
She felt the corners of her lips tug into a smirk as she pried his Jellicle Julep from his gloved hand.
"Thief," he accused, though his voice had dropped to a sensuous purr.
"You can have it back," she told him, setting the glass on a side table. "But you'll need your hands free to pull my hair."
Jareth's eyebrows nearly disappeared beneath his hairline. He cast a quick look around before meeting her gaze with a searing heat that told her he'd assessed the privacy of their seats and had determined they were properly obscured—or had decided he didn't actually give a single shit either way.
He was quiet as Sarah slipped from her seat and knelt in front of him. Her hands moved to his knees before guiding them apart. She lifted her gaze to his as her fingers found the cool buttons of his trousers, already straining against his growing erection.
His pupils were blown wide, and Sarah felt a deep sense of satisfaction at how he held his breath. She kept her eyes locked with his as she guided his half-hard cock out of his trousers.
Sarah stroked him until he swelled to fill her hand. She wasted no time teasing him, slipping the tip past the tight seal of her lips. Her fingers pumped up his length as she massaged the underneath of his head with the flat of her tongue.
Jareth hissed, his fingers weaving through the hair at the back of her head. His hold was loose at first but tightened as her cheeks hollowed.
She let her lips slide down the length of him and sucked hard. Small, breathy sounds escaped him as her tongue laved at the underside of his shaft, swirling at the tip before each descent.
"Teeth," he whispered, a plea and a command.
Sarah obliged, letting her teeth scrape gently across his velvety skin as her head bobbed.
Jareth groaned, a half-uttered, "Fuck" stalling in his throat.
Encouraged, she opened her throat and suppressed a gag as he hit the back of it, relishing the slight ache in her jaw that the suction of her mouth created.
His breath was hitching in short, breathy gasps that had Sarah moaning softly around him, mindful—to a point—of keeping quiet. As much as she dreaded the idea of being detected in the midst of giving a rough, passionate blowjob, it was becoming difficult to care as he pulled her hair desperately.
Her free hand scooped his balls and she rolled them, tugging gently. His cock twitched in her mouth as she massaged beneath his sack with two fingers.
Jareth looked nearly panicked, and Sarah could feel the tension in his body stringing tight with impending release. She locked her eyes with his, a silent confession that she wanted his come to be spilled nowhere else other than down her greedy throat.
Sarah held his gaze, battling her gag reflex again as she took him as deep as she could. He shuddered, a nearly silent, drawn-out moan escaping him as she did her best to swallow the hot salty-sweetness of the come filling her mouth.
A dribble slipped past the corner of her lips as she pulled off him, and she lifted her hand to wipe it away. Jareth caught her wrist, pulling her up and meeting her halfway as he leaned forward to lick his come from her chin in a hot stripe. He found her lips and kissed her fiercely, his tongue exploring her mouth like he couldn't get enough of her, of the taste of himself lingering on her tongue.
He broke away when the house lights flashed. His eyes were somehow heavy-lidded and luminous at the same time as he kissed both of her cheeks and rasped, "Well, that was efficient."
She laughed. "See? I can keep to a tight schedule."
Jareth hummed as he tucked himself back into his trousers. "Consider me happily proven wrong," he said, tossing her earlier words back at her.
They shared a smile as Sarah resumed her seat and the performers claimed the stage once more.
The second act had Jareth's mood palpably shifting between joyous and upset. Tears leaked from the corners of his eyes at parts, and Sarah's heart swelled for her sensitive, lovely…something.
Her something.
That wasn't it at all, she thought, frowning to herself. What was he to her, she wondered, aside from everything?
My best friend?
Obviously, but that wasn't the whole of it.
My boyfriend?
Her frown deepened at the thought. It felt amateur and entirely too bound by archetypal limitations set in place by mortals.
My lover?
Certainly that, she thought, the taste of him still coating her mouth. But that wasn't quite the right word, either.
My destiny? My soul mate? The undeniable love of my life?
Yep.
It didn't come close to summing up what they shared.
Not really.
But it would have to do for now.
Thank you, as always, to the wonderful Geliot99 for beta reading!
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This chapter is alternatively named, 'Merch Table Menace' 😆
I hope you liked this chapter! Please let me know what you think