Fat fluffy snowflakes were falling hard and fast, twirling down and beginning to sugarcoat the icy ground, but the heat of the bonfire still warmed Sarah's cheeks even as she and Jareth meandered away from the parapet, up towards the castle beyond the Goblin City.

He hadn't let her go even as the end of the fireworks drifted away on acrid smoke, had kept an arm around her waist, and Sarah leaned into him like that was the most natural thing in the world to do, her heart warmed with the lingering refrain of their kiss and her ears still ringing from the spectacular encore. His fingers stroked over her hip and—instinctively—-she leaned her head back onto his chest as they walked together; slow unhurried steps crunching over frosted cobbles.

The houses began to thin out around the castle, streets widening at the fringe of the royal pavilion.

Jareth's hand dipped for a moment, and then he brought his cloak up around her shoulders along with his arm, settling her head in the crook of his elbow.

"It's cold," he explained when she raised an incredulous eyebrow. "You were shivering."

She chuckled like she didn't believe him.

"I think you're just trying to cop more of a f—"

She was cut off with his lips pressed against hers. Too stunned to pull back (but not so stunned as to object) she froze momentarily. Her breath held, eyes still open, watching his mismatched ones sparkling with righteous contentment before closing, his mouth moving to widen hers apart and she obliged (how could she not) with a nearly inaudible groan and a tilt of her head.

His tongue brushed over hers as his free hand cradled the back of her head, his gloved fingers splayed to brush through her tresses lovingly.

"Sarah—" he breathed out in a rush as he leaned her back against a chimney stack not much taller than herself. For her part, Sarah could barely utter more than a mewl of greed that his lips were momentarily not over hers before he was kissing her again, harder and fully and with teeth underneath the softness of his lips and sensual play of his tongue.

He threatened to pull back again—maybe to gloat, or maybe to goad her into crossing the distance between them this time—but her hands fisted in his soft hair, holding him close by the nape of his neck, as she tangled her tongue over his, reclining further against the chimney as his chest pressed against hers.

The free hand not wrapped over her shoulders dipped to her waist. Then her hip, her thigh, and around to catch and drag her leg up and around his, supporting her there with a hand beneath her knee. In answer she held him tighter; linked her wrists at the back of his head and pulled him closer, refusing to let up though he made no move to retreat. With teeth biting and lips dancing with his, Sarah gasped against him, their breaths mingling in a fog in the freezing air.

"Gods, Sarah, the way you kiss me," he purred as they drew briefly apart, peppering her jaw and neck with soft bites and kisses as she panted for breath.

He slumped lower over her—shortening his height so they more evenly matched—and pressed his thigh against the core of her. Sarah almost didn't swallow the moan that threatened to escape, almost choked on it, and instead made a desperate gasp as his hips met hers, pinning her against the brick at her back.

A deafening, blood-curdling screech interrupted them this time. Wobbly as though the screamer was running at a full pelt, and distinctly avian in timbre, spilling out of the high windows of the castle above them. It was joined—unsurprisingly—by a raucous outcry of goblin voices plus sound effects of general chaos.

"GET ID!"

"NAE, NOT—"

"NOT'N THAT WAY!—"

—crash—

"GIT THE SWORD! THE SWORD, RI—!"

"SWORD!"

—smash—

"IT'S HEADIN' FER DEH—"

—clatter!—

"TREE, HEAD 'IT OFF AT DEH—"

—CLANG!

"Hell, what now?" muttered Jareth as he pulled back from Sarah, his eyes rolling in exasperation.

Sarah kicked herself off the chimney stack, getting rubbery legs back underneath her.

"No rest for the wicked?" she asked, laughing at the din above them.

"Spare me your barbs, Champion, no one could be wicked enough to deserve that," he answered with a gesturing nod and a smirk.

"Mm, I'm sure you could try," she answered, chuckling as he glared at her. The hand that had been holding her thigh (and dropped it during what sounded like outright war above) wound back around her waist to link with the other.

"I'm sure you could tempt me to it," he hummed as though it were a compliment. She took it as such and was about to bring his mouth down over hers again when he waved his fingers—just a slight curl at her spine—and the oblong shape of her hallway mirror appeared behind her.

"Your escape," he said and nodded to indicate her living room.

Sarah smiled knowingly, and as his hands fell from her waist, stepped through into the warmth of her apartment.

She turned back, taking in Jareth's recline against the frame of her mirror, a snowy goblin city as his backdrop.

She held her breath, contemplating the words she was about to say. Weighing them against the fluttering feeling in her heart, the emotional depths of which were exhilarating and daunting, and not enough to stop her. Her resolve—her cool indifference—had been gently and continuously eroded until, ragged and weary, it finally sank into the ocean that was his mismatched eyes and cruel smile.

"I wish you'd join me," she said, saying her words clearly and with intent, no tremor of indecision in her voice. She tilted her head up towards the castle windows behind him, still spewing forth a cacophony of squawking and goblin war-cry over his shoulder. "I did grant you sanctuary after all. Seems like you still need it."

Jareth smiled in acknowledgment. "More so than ever, it would seem."

Sarah cleared her throat since it was beginning to cinch closed on her. "Plus it's freezing," she added with a careless half-shrug.

He nodded. Waited for a beat to reply as though offering her space to take it all back in a hurried rush.

His eyes traveled the length of her, seeming able to penetrate through the layers of cloak and sweater and jeans and heavy boots. Seemed to actually lick her skin like a physical sensation regardless of the barriers between them and Sarah shuddered even as liquid fire pooled in her belly.

"'Angelic' doesn't come naturally to me, Sarah," he said after the pause, and the heat of his words had her gut dropping in heady anticipation. "I can promise generosity. I can promise patience. I can even promise that I'll be yours for as long as the tides turn." He raised his brow at her, making sure she understood she was inviting him across a specific threshold hereto uncrossed. "But an angel I am not."

She thought about arguing that it would no longer be cheating, and telling him that her reservations were obsolete anyway (had been for a while). But that seemed defeatist somehow. As though Ethan had held a claim on her heart, which of course he hadn't. She'd merely be testing. Testing herself and Jareth, and pretending anything less would at this point be insulting.

He was her villain, hers, and she was through pretending he wasn't.

And so what she did say, with a firm jaw and daring do-your-worst, piece-of-cake, dangers-untold eyes was…

"Good."