As he expected, Sarah had yet to stir. They had a lot of ground yet to cover and the Triumvirate was expecting them promptly at seven in the evening of the third day. “Sarah,” he called as he threw open the tent flap. She was kneeling on the ground, her back to the tent opening, wearing her riding pants and a bra, brushing out her long black hair preparing to wind it into a bun.
When she heard Jareth call for her, she didn’t jump, didn’t move to cover herself, instead she just continued the long even strokes with the brush, confident that he would never invade her privacy after what he’d said to her last night. “Yes,” she replied without even turning around.
Jareth backed out of the tent suddenly feeling as if he were intruding. “We’ve got to get going if we’re going to keep on schedule.”
“Be right out,” she called tucking the ends of her hair under the bun she’d made. Nervously she worked at straightening the waist of one of her sweaters as she came out of the tent.
The king looked at her, fresh from sleep and seeming radiant, padded riding pants giving her an exaggerated shape that made her seem even more voluptuous. “Have something to eat. I’ll take down the tent and get it packed.”
“I can help. I mean, I wouldn’t want to condemn you to my servitude.” Silently she chastised herself. She’d promised she would try her best not to be defensive or confrontational with him today, but it never worked. It seemed as if everything he said was an invitation to be argumentative.
“No thank you. If it takes you as long to eat as it does to rest, it’ll be lunch before you finish breakfast.”
“Isn’t there anything you take your time doing?” She protested as she dug out a couple of Drema’s muffins and the canteen of water.
If it hadn’t been for his heightened sense, the Goblin King probably would not have heard her last remark. He smiled to himself wickedly. “There are a few things,” he said under his breath as he lifted the cushion which had served her as last night’s pillow to his face and inhaled her scent. Then he quickly finished clearing the tent and breaking it down.
While Jareth cursed at the bits of steel that had given him so much trouble the day before, Sarah was wishing she had something other than water to drink. Testing her magic, she picked up one of the stones that made up the pit their fire had burned in. Concentrating on a fresh juicy orange she slid her hand over it turning the stony shell into a fleshy orange. Completing the transformation, Sarah dug in with her fingernail. Easily piercing the flesh, Sarah pulled the rind aside eager to get to the tender fruit. Pulling off one of the sections, she shoved it into her mouth and bit down. Looked and tasted real. That was promising. A few times she repeated the process until she had a half dozen or so of the succulent fruit at her dispose. She emptied her canteen and began squeezing the fruit over the mouth piece listening impatiently as she heard the stream of juices rushing inside.
By the time the king finished his chore with the tent, Sarah was downing the last bite of a muffin and swigging from the canteen. She passed it to Jareth and encouraged him to drink as well. Of course he hesitated, but when the sweet familiar smell filled his nose, he reconsidered. “Where’d you get orange juice?” he asked the mortal.
“From oranges,” she replied. The mythicals of the Underground weren’t the only one’s who could play these games.
One eye half closed in her direction, knowing full well he’d asked the wrong question. “Where did you get oranges from?”
“I made them from stones,” Sarah said as if it were something she did every morning at home.
“Well it’s quite good.” Was that a compliment from the fearsome Goblin King? Sarah smiled as he handed her back the canteen. “Are your things packed?”
“All but this canteen,” she told him. As had become customary, he knelt at her feet and gave her the leg up she needed to mount Chataigne. A full day’s ride lie ahead of them
***** ***** *****
Close to the Labyrinth’s walls, they rode on. In the distance Sarah could see the southwestern sector. The pond she had visited only days earlier still half frozen over and reflecting the sun like a large mirror laid on the ground. She smiled remembering Gandor and what he had done to Tiberon. “Jareth,” she called. His head turned slowly over his right shoulder looking at her oddly, for they didn’t engage in much conversation when they rode. “Can we go through there?” Sarah asked pointing to the southwest sector.
“No, we’re riding north.”
“But we’re so close. I’d like to say hello to Gandor.”
Jareth brought Bagheera to a dead stop. “How do you know Gandor?”
What was the big deal? “He helped out with a little problem I was having with Tiberon.”
“Tiberon! Gandor! Well, have you met the Triumvirate too? Is this trip in vain? Who gave you permission to go milling about introducing yourself to anyone you please? I’ll have their heads for this insubordination. Someone should have reported you to me immediately.” The king was beyond furious.
“I don’t see what the big deal is. I stayed with Hoggle for a couple of days before I came into the Labyrinth. When we were walking home we ran into Tiberon. He was a bit,” her mind searched frantically for a word that would sum things up without further infuriating the king, “overbearing.”
No such luck keeping her innuendo under Jareth’s radar. “What do you mean overbearing?”
“He was very suggestive with me.”
While his demeanor remained no more irate than it had been before her confession, his insides boiled. So when his informants told him that Tiberon intended to court a woman, it was Sarah who was the woman of which they spoke. Had he not made it clear fifteen years ago that this mortal was his? “And you were responsive to his suggestion?”
“No!” He eyed her as if he had trouble understanding her response. Sarah repeated, “No, I was not. In fact, there was this rabbit who Hoggle tricked into helping us. He got Gandor to threaten Tiberon and he never bothered me after that.” She smiled at him coyly in an attempt to diffuse the situation, “Are you jealous?”
“Don’t be ridiculous! It could have been a very dangerous situation for you is all. Tiberon has always had a chip on his shoulder when it comes to me and I hate to think of what he could be capable of. Why I wouldn’t be surprised if it had been him who released the Pooka into my Labyrinth the night it found you.” For a minute the anger faded from Jareth’s face and Sarah thought she saw concern. “Now, if you continue to waste time, we will be late for our meeting with the Triumvirate.”
Who was he to open a can of worms, yell at her, insinuate such things and then just turn his stallion around and ride away as if nothing had ever happened, all under the guise of keeping to a schedule? “You’re right Jareth. Perhaps I ought to pick up the pace a little. Yah!” She cried digging her heals into Chataigne’s sides. The horse broke into a graceful trot and with another quick jab, a thunderous gallop. Sarah was wild in the wind, feeling like an extension of the gelding. The world around her a blur in the creature’s wake. The gently rolling hills her playground. A wide smile spread over her face as she succumbed to all the freedom the Underground had to offer.
“Yah, yah,” Jareth cried behind her as his heals stabbed into Bagheera’s sides encouraging him to catch the young gelding. “Sarah! Sarah ” the king repeatedly shouted in a vain effort to regain her attention, but she was lost to a magic of her own, shared between woman and beast. As much as Jareth knew he had to stop her, he was not blind to how fabulous she looked as the sun reflected off the rich blackness of her hair. A few strands had come loose from the bun she’d wound that morning and trailed behind her like an extension of the golden’s mane. Chataigne’s coat was alive with light, giving them a certain hazy dream like quality as they cut through the air, his hooves barely touching the ground. The smile on the mortal’s face genuine, spurned from true enthusiasm. “Sarah please!”
Pulling back on the reigns of the speeding creature brought an abrupt halt to joy ride. “What did you say?”
“You don’t even know where you’re going and the horse is going to tire long before we reach water if you continue riding him that way.” All the gentility from his voice gone.
“I was just trying to make up time.” She said it meekly, as if it had been Karen complaining once again about whatever it was Sarah couldn’t do properly. It made her skin crawl and her stomach turn to hear Jareth evoke that kind of tone from her.
“Well don’t bother. You only set us behind in other ways with foolish stunts like these!” Turning Bagheera he walked the horse in front of Chataigne and they began their course again. “Stay behind me,” he reminded her as she flapped her gelding’s reigns.
“Stay behind me,” she mimicked when he turned back to face front. Even though the king’s temper had stolen her joy, she couldn’t help but look on in appreciation at the lands over which they traveled. She had never seen the Underground so lush and full of color. It was as if an artist’s pallet had dumped over and spilled on what was as she recalled a primarily comprised wasteland of black and ruddy orange wasteland. The sun was directly overhead as they came upon a little stream, indicating that it was near noon.
“Jareth, maybe we should stop and water the horses?” He did not respond. “Jareth, I think we need to let the horses rest and drink a while.” Still no reply. “Jareth!”
“I will tell you when we stop.” His voice was low and cold.
Chataigne was eager for a sip from the stream but followed his master’s commands to press on. They crested a large hill on the other side of the stream and Sarah gasped at what she saw. There was a huge waterfall that was the source of the stream they had passed. Lush vegetation, trees with vines and flowers the colors of which she had never seen before. In the distance she could see fairies playing, but they made a quick departure when Jareth charged his stallion up to the edge of the pool which had formed at the foot of the waterfall.
“It’s paradise,” Sarah said as she looked around.
Seeing her in such wonder thrilled the king, “This has always been my favorite part of the Underground.”
A foggy image began to clear in Sarah’s mind, “I’ve seen this before.”
The king’s pride deflated, ‘Who had dared to bring her here?’ he wondered.
“On your bed, it’s carved into the footboard. This exact scene!”
Pride replenished, he confirmed, “Indeed. This is where I plan to retire myself someday when I am able to pass on my throne.”
“You mean you wouldn’t want to be king forever?” Sarah asked.
Jareth’s words echoed in his mind sardonically, ‘It’s only forever. Not long at all.’ Being king forever was a concept no mortal could understand. He was king because he had to be and, while it brought along with it a few moments he managed to enjoy, it was more or less a hassle. Had he not been king, he would have never met Sarah and by now would have been contentedly living in one of the green patches of this sector with a fey woman of his own and perhaps a few offspring as well. “You don’t realize the true meaning of forever, Sarah.” His words were heavy as they escaped his lips. Sarah realized that in fact she didn’t realize the true meaning of forever. Being mortal, the word was often bantered about to mean any lengthy time period which could range in increments of weeks to years. Forever in an immortal sense was more than she could fathom.
They set to preparing lunch. Sarah cut some of the meats and cheeses, while Jareth watered the horses and removed their packs so they could rest. He came to the shade of the tree where Sarah had set lunch out for them near the water’s edge. The king nibbled at a hunk of bread torn from the loaf Sarah unwrapped. “Not hungry?” she asked. His appetite had been quite good in what time they had spent together.
Jareth shrugged. “Guess I just didn’t think about what it would be like here. Last time I heard, this place it was much different.”
“How’s that?” When his eyes looked at her filled with sadness she answered her own question. Feeling stupid for not thinking it was her rejection that had ruined this paradise for him, she offered him a glass of mead and did her best to smile. She had hoped her question would remain unanswered, carried off by the warm breeze that blew around them, but no such luck.
“Everything here had dried up, the waterfall was as dry and deserted as the grand canyon. The overgrowth was completely bare, the grass more like straw, what managed to continue living here came out of hiding only at night when the temperature was manageable. Suffice it to say that things here were not going well.” Shrugging, the king reached for a hunk of cured meat. That’s when he noticed Sarah had stopped eating in lieu of starring out into space. “But what’s done is done,” he added.
“But that’s exactly it, Jareth.” She watched his eyes close when she spoke his name. “What’s done isn’t done. I’m going to meet with the Triumvirate tomorrow, they’ll send me home and then the Labyrinth will begin to crumble again.”
“Honestly Sarah, you give yourself entirely too much credit. So you restored a little vitality to this place, but tomorrow when,” he stressed, “the Triumvirate sends you home, they’ll give me back my magic and then the Labyrinth won’t need you anymore. It’s king will have been made whole and life here will return to normal.” Jareth rose to his feet and walked away feigning some interest in a group of plants near the rock formation to the side of the waterfall. What he had told her had been only half of the truth. Most likely the Triumvirate would send her home when they met tomorrow night and most definitely were they to do that he would be given the whole of his magic back, but the Labyrinth would always need Sarah Williams, for without her, the king could never be whole, life could never be normal.
There were tears in her mortal eyes as she packed up the food they had barely touched. It had crossed her mind that she wouldn’t be welcomed, but not needed, that was a new emotion entirely. She certainly needed the Labyrinth, needed Hoggle and Drema and all of her friends. Even needed Jareth. If what Drema had told her was true, then of course the Labyrinth should have needed her in return, but apparently it didn’t. Back home she’d draw a hot bath and sink inside the water until her troubles washed away, down the drain and out to sea. Lost fingers trolled through the water, it was warm and clear. Her body felt heavy with sweat from riding, with grime from sleeping on the ground and with the weight of the worries on her mind.
“I want to take a bath,” she announced.
The king turned to look at her, “You want to what?”
“Take a bath. I feel disgusting, haven’t bathed in days. If I’m going to meet this Triumvirate of yours tomorrow, I think I should clean up some. Take me somewhere that I can do just that.”
Laughter broke his solemn reflection, “Your standing beside the last place you’ll see water between here and the mountains. Unless you want to bathe in the cold mountain streams, I suggest you partake of the pleasures of the waterfall.”
“Here! Out in the open? Are you mad?”
“All the same to me. I’m not the one who’s complaining about needing a bath. Your options are such as your options are. Sometimes our desires are not always fulfilled by the universe.”
Sarah grunted at him, hating how he got so philosophical when she was tormented. “Fine!” she declared standing by the water’s edge. “Turn around.”
“Why?”
“Because I’m not going to jump in there with my clothes on. Better yet, wander off somewhere. You can holler for me when it’s almost time to go.” She sounded like a princess commanding a hand maiden.
“Holler for you?” He looked at her indignantly, his hands folded across his chest.
“You know, holler. Shout. Call for me.” She thought he had misunderstood the word, but more to the point, Jareth had failed to see why he should be made to participate in this little sidebar of hers.
In truth they had no time for this frivolity, but curiosity getting the better of him, he allowed the mortal to dig her own hole. She had put her wants above her means and, as of yet, not considered the implications. He would watch, wait, see what happened when recognition set in. “As you wish,” he said with a sneer as he turned to walk into the overgrowth.
Before removing a stitch of clothing, she looked all about to be sure nothing could see her. Had she bothered to look up, she may have noticed a fey dressed in black leather and a cream painter’s shirt which almost matched the highlights in his blonde mane, perched on the rocks above the fall, his chin resting in his hands a wicked grin upon his lips. For now his position was safe. Sarah slid into the water. At the edge she could touch bottom, but as she swam further out where there was no silt for her toes to settle in. There she could feel the pounding of the water as it crashed over the rock ledge and disheveled the still pond beneath. It was better than jets in a hot tub. More invigorating and with the blue sky to smile down upon her far more scenic. Undoing what was left of the bun in her hair, Sarah allowed the tendrils to soak up the tropical moisture. The king looked on approvingly as she dipped her head back allowing the tops of her breasts to break the water’s surface. ‘My but she is a brazen mortal when she thinks no one’s watching,’ he thought.
Sarah dove under the water, amazed at how much she could see, enchanted by the foaming swirls being created by the fall. Swimming under them she let the pressure crash into her, it felt divine, like a massage that dug into all her muscles at once. On the other side of the falls, she found a grotto barely lit by the sun’s rays. The water here was still and calm. Sarah walked up the to the bank. The floor of the grotto was stone and slick, her bare feet skidding with every step. In the mouth of the grotto she could stand completely erect. Tunnels led away from the mouth seeming to narrow as they went on. She peeked down each of the three tunnels she could see. Nothing fantastic caught her eye at first. Just wet stone walls smoothed by years of friction from the water. It was the last tunnel she looked in which made her stop and inch forward. Just inside the third tunnel off to the right, tucked in to a dug out section of the stone wall was something large, pot bellied, black that didn’t dare to catch the sun and shimmy the way the walls did. She ran her hand over it, smooth, metallic. On its top, her hand discovered a plank of wood which she slid aside. Sarah peered eagerly into the container. The glare forced her to close her eyes and turn away. More slowly she tried to refocus on her find, using her palm to shield her eyes this time. What had turned the sun’s love against her was none other than a pile of gold coins. ‘Real gold coins,’ she thought, for they sparkled as if they were real. She ran her hand through the pile, selecting just one for closer inspection. Each was stamped with a four leaf clover and the words Erin Go Braugh.
While the mortal marveled at her discovery, Jareth was fretting from his perch. He had seen her dive beneath the water’s surface, watched as her perfectly heart shaped buttocks rose and fell, but it had been some time now and she had not resurfaced. He quickly made his way to the bank and called for her. Upon hearing the Goblin King shout, Sarah returned the wooden cover to the treasure and dove back into the calm water’s of the grotto so she could again pierce the thundering downpour of the falls and resurface back out in the pond. Relief washed over Jareth when he again set eyes on his mortal. Before he could cover his anxiety by telling her it was time they go, she slicked back her hair and told him of her discovery. “Real gold coins, in a huge, well, pot and ” the more she spoke the more she felt insane. “I’m not making it up,” she said before he’d even had the opportunity to accuse of her of spurting tall tales. “The coins all have four leaf clovers on them and some funny name, Erin something.”
Never tired of showing some amusement at her naivety, Jareth laughed once more, “Erin Go Braugh.” The way he said it made it seem ancient and mystic, making Sarah forget that she was in a very clear body of water and Jareth was now in full view. She covered herself with her hands and came closer to the shore where he would have to very obviously strain to see her.
Despite his disappointment, he did his best to keep his eyes where they should have been as he told her, “You have found the leprechaun’s gold. Each coin stamped with a shamrock, four leaves to represent hope, faith, love and luck. A rare find even here in a land of mythicals. This ‘name’ you speak of is an Irish phrase, Erin Go Braugh, to mean Ireland forever.” His hands held his hips and he bent back in laughter. “So you’ve out witted the imp without even knowing it.”
“Pot of gold,” she recited in recognition. “You mean that what I found back there ”
“Is the proverbial pot of gold.” He finished her thought. “Indeed it is.” The king’s laughter was still uncontrollable and catching so that it made Sarah laugh along with him.
“Leprechauns, the Easter Bunnies, Santa Clause. What am I going to find here next?”
Jareth stooped down resting his forearms against his knees. “This world is filled with more legend and lore than even you could imagine my little dreamer. Oh but this, this,” he said as his chuckling overtook him, “takes the prize. I’ve threatened for years to find his gold. ‘What will you do with it then Goblin King?’” Jareth imitated the heavy Irish accent of a leprechaun. “I don’t know that I’d tell him and neither will you. As you know I have no need for his riches, but the little fellow nerved me and I wanted to put him on edge. Now he’ll come back to his grotto and know that someone has touched his treasure. Don’t ask me how, but he’ll know. Then, the best part, he’ll scurry around for days trying to find a hiding spot as good as this where he thinks he can elude me. It’ll make him crazy and I owe it all to you!”
“That seems rather cruel don’t you think?”
“Oh please,” he said waving a gloved hand at her. “They’re the ultimate con men leprechauns are. Shoemakers to the fairies by day, but when evening comes they drink themselves stupid on their heather ale and whiskey. Blowing smoke rings as they puff away on their tobacco pipes. They’re all manic depressive, paranoid little buggers. Why not have a bit of fun with them?”
“I suppose if it’s in fun, there’s no harm to it.” Sarah grew uncomfortable being naked in the water before him as he loomed so close on the shore. “Do you think you might get me a towel?”
Ah ha, now the impracticality of her desires was hitting her. “Where do you suppose they keep those out here in the middle of paradise?”
“Jareth, I need a towel,” Sarah told him sternly.
“That may be true, Sarah, but I have no towel to offer and no power over you with which to create one.” He turned his palms up displaying his helplessness.
“Well what do you suggest I do then?”
“I would think that staying in the water won’t make you any less wet.” A devilish grin wound across his lips as he stood.
“You don’t actually think I’m coming out of here with you standing right there do you?”
“I doubt that you will, but the fact of the matter remains, we have an appointment to keep and there is very little time for fooling around.”
The tone of his voice was infuriating. He clearly saw this dilemma when first she asked about bathing, knew it was coming and waited for this moment like a jungle cat waits for its prey to make a wrong move. On top of that, he was turning it around on her, blaming her for causing them another delay. What Jareth had not counted on was that Sarah would challenge him at his own game, push him to the limits he so enjoyed testing her with. Her knees were buried in the silt as she fought to keep her femininity below the water. The mortal rocked back onto her heals brushing the dirt and sand from her knees and stood. Water poured from her shoulders, the ends of her long black hair still dripping. Streams poured over her breasts and down her torso to her waist where the surface of the pond welcomed them home. Her eyes met Jareth’s. ‘Two can play this game,’ she thought smiling back at him in a way that let him know she had the upper hand. Arms straight at her sides, Sarah made no attempt to shroud her nudity. Instead, keeping his gaze, she began to step slowly from her position in the pool closer to the bank. The water lowered, inch by inch, as she drew nearer to the king. He had meant to keep himself focused on her penetrating green eyes, but as the sun took to drying her tender exposed flesh, it made tiny rainbows in the droplets of water which drew the attention he had tried to control. The slender line of her neck, the way her collar bone held just a little more moisture in a sweet puddle on her shoulder, the ampleness of her breasts, each darkened nipple erect in reaction to the breeze blowing across her skin. Even the Cleric would have shifted his gaze away from her eyes. What’s more, the water continued to dip as she advanced revealing her voluptuous curves, the hollow of her navel. Jareth’s heart pounded in his chest. She was beautiful indeed. The soft curling locks of her womanhood were matted to her skin as she broke free, emerging further towards the shore. By now, the king’s mouth was hanging open, he knew it was. Sarah could see this as her gaze remained solidly upon his face. She wanted to examine him more closely allow her eyes to wander the way his had and survey any changes that may have been taking place in his own body. She would have expected his attention to focus on her more sexual features, but he continued to lower his stare as she rose further out of the pond, rolling over the curve of her legs, right down to her toes as they met dry land.
For a moment she stood, completely still, completely bare before him and let him have his look. When her advances began again, he brought his eyes back up the length of her well developed body, rising higher the closer she came. When she was at last within arm’s reach he met her stare, a strange look came over his face. Sarah thought it was embarrassment when the blush came rushing into his cheeks and his still open mouth made no sound. Blue eyes, like pieces of sky cut down from heaven, were all she saw, so close to him that barely air separated their bodies. Sarah’s eyes never wavered, never closed, as she leaned up to him, her lips a breath away from his own, parted, her soft pink tongue coating them with moisture before it disappeared back into her mouth, “Then I suppose I’ll have to make my own.” Her lips pursed together as she finished the sentence. If Jareth hadn’t been in shock he would have kissed her then and there. Not out of love, not out of lust, but out of a passion he had until now never felt. An appreciation for the female form like he had never known before had filled the king as he dreamed of something that was between the intimacy he sought from her Aboveground and raw sex. He wanted to explore her, observe her reaction to his touch and it didn’t need to culminate in an act of sex or love making to be valuable.
Before he could indulge in any of the things that paraded through his mind she backed away, keeping her strides long as she went toward the thick foliage behind him. The Goblin King watched her walk away, not without noticing the smooth way her legs passed over one another, like a cricket making beautiful music in the night, paying careful attention to the mounds of her backside as they shifted with each step as hypnotizing as the pendulum of a clock. Sarah pulled a full leaf off one of the trees and smoothed her hand over it as she held it by the stem. Her magic created a thick pink towel which she wrapped around her frame. Then to add insult to injury, Sarah walked back passed the king, her arms reaching behind her to braid the length of her soaking hair. “Couldn’t get me a towel, but I see you’re happy to offer me a peg to hang it on.” Retrieving her clothes from the bank, she ducked behind the rocks to dress.
Jareth cringed as the mortal’s comment started making sense. He shifted his focus from her body to his own, making him very aware of precisely what she meant. He sat against the rocks and drew his knees to his chest, waiting for the discomfort to pass, cursing himself for allowing her to have the upper hand. When she emerged from her hiding place, completely dressed, “Ready to ride?” she asked the king. “We are on a schedule.”
At first he just looked at her strutting off to stand beside Chataigne, waiting patiently for him to kneel at her feet, offer his services like the obedient lap dog her little scene had turned him in to. Then the rage came spreading like wild fire in his veins. Storming to her side, he assumed his position. Her foot slid into his grasp only this time Jareth didn’t guide her onto the horse’s back. He used his strength to knock her back. Sarah’s body came down with a thud upon the grass. The king slid his body over hers and she gasped, half from being winded, half from feeling the weight of him on top of her again. His long fingers wrapped around her wrists and threw Sarah’s arms above her head. Like a flickering light her eyes flashed from his eyes to his lips. If it were up to her she’d will him to bring his perfect mouth crashing down on top of hers. Instead the king’s breath toasted her neck, wafted over her cheek, his mouth hovered just above her own. “You should be more careful when choosing a partner to spar with Sarah. I am a master of more than just chess and, while playing with me might bring you fantastic pleasure,” to make his point he caressed her arm from wrist to shoulder with the softness of his leather glove, “you will lose.” As quickly as he took the spot above her, he left taking a seat atop Bagheera and without looking back, began to ride away.
Putting her weight on her elbows she looked at him. “Where are you going?” Her fists pounded the ground beneath her. “Jareth? How am I supposed to follow you if I can’t get on my horse?” She struggled to her feet. “I need a leg up.” She tried to say it sincerely, almost apologetically.
Bagheera halted. Jareth looked at her from his stallion’s back, “Mount your own damn horse.”
Nothing made sense. Not the way that he infuriated her at the same time he enticed her or the way he could switch from loving her to loathing her. This would not be her undoing. She was nothing if not determined. Carefully she led Chataigne to the rocks, then climbed them at the horse’s nearside and took advantage of the added height to mount the gelding. Her heals dug in his girth and in minutes she was back at Jareth’s side.
“Brava,” he said stiffly.
Taunt after taunt teased her tongue before she decided that having caught up to him was enough. She’d already pushed quite a few of his buttons, gotten his ire up, among other things.
***** ***** *****
In silence they left the edge of the northwest sector as night fell. Jareth made camp at the base of the mountain before flying off to fish in one of the nearby streams. Sarah stoked the fire until it blazed hot enough to cook by. Impressed by his catch of trout, she gratefully accepted the contribution, cleaning, filleting and cooking them herself while the king unpacked the horses. By the fire’s glow they devoured the fish. Sarah had always known where fish came from although it seemed different when packaged in a yellow box that read Morton’s across the top, but for something she had seen still twitching with life and was now consuming, it wasn’t half bad. They polished off the remainder of the mead, even as the alcohol loosened their tension, their tongues remained tied. No words exchanged between them until it was time to bed down for the night.
“Don’t tell me, you’re going off to find a cozy tree?” Sarah asked as she slipped into the tent to change into her night shirt.
“There aren’t many trees in these parts.” It was the first he’d spoken since early that afternoon.
Hopefulness filled her briefly, “Give me a minute to change and then you’re welcome to come in.”
“That won’t be necessary. The Supreme One has given me a bountiful supply of land for my bed tonight.”
Wardrobe change complete, Sarah climbed between the blankets inside the tent. Tonight it seemed larger, more vacuous. The only thought she could keep in her mind was the memory of the Goblin King hovering above her. Drops began to ricochet off the canvas disrupting her illusions. It was raining, a downpour that came from nowhere and yet when Sarah peered up at the sky, storm clouds were everywhere. The drops which bathed her face felt warm, not as warm as the water in the pond, but tepid and not completely uncomfortable.
“Jareth?” she called above the thunder, her bare feet plodding through the wet grass. Looking around all sides of the camp, Sarah was still unable to locate him. She began pacing in concentric circles, now soaked to the bone herself, until she tripped over a lump on the ground.
The king sat upright at the disturbance. “What? What is it?”
“You mean to tell me you didn’t notice the rain?” Sarah asked him.
“In fact, I had not. I did notice your foot in my side, however.”
“Come into the tent?”
“No.”
“You’re getting soaked.”
“No, thank you.”
Sarah stood indignantly before him her arms folded across her chest. The shirt she wore was molded to her form with wetness and Jareth could just make out her shapely legs by what little light the moon offered through the clouds. “Fine, then I’ll just stay out here all night with you.”
“Would you stop being ridiculous? Get back in the tent before you catch your death.”
“If you aren’t going I’m not going.”
“If I have to pick you up and throw you back inside that thing, I will.”
‘Just as you did the night you thought I was trying to escape,’ she thought as she stood motionless in the downpour.
“Fine, have it your way.” Jareth scooped her up in his arms. She watched his face, rain pouring over it, his usually full hair hung clinging to his skin. “Do you have any idea what an enormous pain you can be at times? I try my best, I really do, to put up with your mortal ways, but it gets less easy the more time I am forced to spend with you.”
“Bet you can’t wait to see me leave?” she asked him removing one hand from around his neck to wipe the rain from her face.
Jareth looked at her, his mouth open as if he had more to say, but then it shut and his eyes were facing forward again. When they reached the tent door, he kicked open the flap and moved to toss her inside, only Sarah didn’t let go of the hold she had around his neck. Surprisingly, she caught her balance quickly which made him stumble a few feet forward. Sarah stared at his face. He continued to look out over her, passed the tent at something in the distance, as if there were no woman dangling before him. He looked so helpless, defenseless, like any mortal man. Drenched by the pouring rain, this regal king was no more than a common man who no longer intimidated the common woman inside Sarah. She no longer worried that she wasn’t saying the right things, doing the right things, for whom was their left to impress? Surely not this common man. If for just an instant, she felt a superiority over him, a control she had not had before now.
Still draped around his neck, Sarah’s arm’s pulled the king closer as her toes gave her the added inches she needed to reach her goal. In comparison to the tepid rain, his lips felt hot on hers. For a second it was just two mouths pressed against one another, but when he didn’t pull away, Sarah’s confidence soared. She opened her mouth enough to slip his bottom lip inside, massaging it with her own. Jareth was barely able to continue focusing on the spot in the distance he had chosen. The rain had made his shirt feel thin, as thin as Sarah’s, allowing her erect nipples to graze his chest as she gnawed at him. Her tongue smoothed over his lip and like a trap door his eyes snapped shut, his arms clenched her waist and his mouth returned her affections.
There was a small but audible intake of air that could be heard when the king did this before his deepening kiss rendered Sarah incapable of sound. Suddenly she understood how it was that he had not felt the rain. She now felt little more than his hands, his mouth, his body pressed against hers. Just as she’d settled into the comfort of his closeness, he hoisted her into his arms once more. Lips parted in a brief hiatus, as Jareth continued with what he had come here to do in the first place. He took Sarah into the tent and lay her on the blankets inside. “Do you have something dry in your bag?”
Her eyes conveyed her confusion. What did he care? Weren’t they just in the middle of something more important, something that was just as happy to not have to deal with clothing, wet or dry? “Jareth,” she said softly as she knelt before him, untucking the sopping painter’s shirt from his leather breeches and trailing her heated lips left to right across his waist. The king sunk to his knees. Leather clad hands grasped the sides of her face, his thumbs stroking her jaw, without a word he pulled her mouth to his and they resumed the kiss which had begun outside. Sarah pulled away first, gasping for air. Her chest heaving, her body shivering a little from the cold that was now beginning to set in. Jareth rested his forehead against hers as he undid the buttons of the plain cotton shirt. Each plastic disc he managed to conquer revealed more of her perfect skin. He watched his hands, watched her chest rise and fall in an erratic rhythm. When the last button had been undone, he returned his eyes to hers seeking her permission.
Rather than speak and break the intensity of the silence between them, she rolled back her shoulders, which caused her chest to jut forward some. She was surprised at the warmth which radiated from his leather clad hands even though they too had been soaked with rain. The material slid from her shoulders with his guidance. Once removed it was tossed aside where it could not continue to further saturate the bedding. He looked at her, surprised that she was now completely naked. He’d expected the panties from the other night to be there keeping him from seeing all of her, but there was no obstruction to his view. While the Goblin King became transfixed on her form, Sarah slid her hands under his shirt slipping it over his torso, encouraging him to raise his arms so that the garment could be completely disregarded. She pressed herself against him, naked chest against naked chest. Her eager mouth kissing his neck and shoulder, daring to dip to his chest, her soft tongue swirling over his nipple. Jareth’s mouth hung open in delight as she continued her assault on his senses.
It wasn’t until she reached his navel that she noticed the prominent bulge which had formed beneath the leather of his pants. Her delicate hand waved over this discovery as curious eyes watched for his reaction. Where as the thrill of his touch made her gasp and pant, the king’s breaths became deep and steady in an effort to control himself. Sarah sat back, uncertain if she had offended him. Jareth sat back too, only less to observe her and more to remove his boots. With them out of the way his breeches slid off easily and were added to the pile of discarded garments in the corner of the tent. Sarah took him in, his long sinewy body, bare before her for the first time. Suddenly he was magical again, more than a man, more than a fey. Intimidation returned to her eyes. He peeled back the blankets and Sarah slid inside. How he loved to watch her move. Every muscle of her body rolling beneath her pink skin as arms and legs bent or waist shifted. It was like watching a piece of art come to life. He too slid beneath the blankets. Room for a third person between them, Jareth remained propped on one elbow gazing down at the woman whose eyes had yet to leave him.
Reaching a hand for his hip Sarah pulled herself closer to him, her neck stretching until she could capture his mouth with hers. Jareth ached for her. In one weak moment he had dropped his defenses and allowed all the old feelings to flood his heart. Still propped on one elbow he returned her kisses, their tongues battling for control over one another, exploring the cavity of her mouth, gently stroking over her palette, her taste still sweet with the lingering honey from the mead. The king made no attempt to pull her close, but no attempt to push her away either. Sarah groaned into his mouth, hungry for him, her body crying for satisfaction. Her hips pushed forward grinding into his crotch. Jareth felt a wetness on her that didn’t come from the rain. He stilled her rolling waist with his hand, mustering all his strength to gently roll her onto her back and away from his fully erect organ. Her eyes looked him over, pleading with him to tell her what was wrong. She had obviously excited him. She hadn’t given him any resistance.
His face grew serious as he tried to explain without words that as much as he wanted her, wanted this it could never be. As it were, he had to try to suppress his feelings enough to retain his soul, finding his pleasure within her would cost him everything. Battling his own heart as much as hers, his busy mind didn’t notice his hand which, with a mind all its own, had begun to venture from the mortals hip over the curve of her waist, across her stomach and onto her womanhood. When she thrusted into his palm and gasped, the king snapped out of his fog. ‘There was no harm in pleasing his mortal,’ he decided. Gently he caressed her, allowing her to set the pace, responding to the speed and motion of her body. The leather of his glove made it easy for his fingers to glide between her folds, stroking her until small moans rose from her throat. Sarah’s body arched, her head thrown back. Jareth’s mouth descended on her neck, nipping at her flesh, causing her moans to grow louder. In his mind he thought only about the physical gratification of. It was an act of passion and not of love, it had to be. Fingers filled his still damp hair as he moved further down to capture one of her breasts between his lips, massaging slowly as his tongue circled her nipple.
He thought he heard her call his name, hidden in a moan, when he began kissing at her belly, his mouth inches away from her most sensitive places. A single finger disappeared inside her moist opening and for a moment she relaxed, almost perfectly still. Jareth stroked her canal, lifting his face to watch her reaction. She freed his blonde locks and reached above her for the tiny pillow beneath her head. Clutching it desperately, Sarah bucked against his touch in an attempt to reach gratification. When she felt his wet lips on her thigh, his warm breath leaving his nostrils, blowing over her skin, she thought it would be her undoing, but the Goblin King had worse ideas in store. Still stroking her inside, he parted her engorged folds with his ready tongue and repeated the swirling motions which had delighted her breasts, on the alert bundle of nerve endings which he had found swollen and waiting there.
Sarah’s entire body shook with satisfaction when her release finally came and she called out into the night an audible, but indecipherable, cry. Jareth marveled at what he had managed to evoke in her. What a curious physical reaction orgasm was? When the pulsating within her halted he withdrew his hand forcing a final shiver to shoot through her. He fell onto his back, exhausted from their adventures and eager to force the thoughts that kept him erect from his mind, lest he make yet another error in judgment this evening.
Moments later, his mortal hung above him, her lips covering his in sweetness and gratitude. He tried to ignore her lips as they trailed over him chaotically, not knowing what to kiss first or how long to stay in any one spot. Sarah hadn’t had this kind of opportunity with Christian. She wasn’t the experienced lover Jareth had been. Feeling the fool for even trying to compete with him, she recalled his words, ‘I wonder what your basis for comparison is.’ He felt her lips smile against his skin. When she finally reached his thighs, she hesitated. At first she only gripped his member with her hand, realizing as she did so, that he was much larger than Christian had been, bigger than most she figured, with a girth that kept her fingers from meeting up when she wrapped them around him. It took a moment or so, but she managed to finally find a tension and rhythm he seemed to enjoy. When he began to thrust in her hand, Sarah took the tip of his penis between her lips matching the rhythm of her mouth to the rhythm of her hand. Focusing on the physical sensation proved more than Jareth could handle at that point and he inhaled sharply through his nose. The first of any sound he’d made since Sarah had been with him Aboveground.
When his mortal ceased all motion, disappointment overcame him until he opened his eyes to find her beautiful face before his. Throwing her near leg over his waist, she leaned down to kiss him. A giggle came from her throat as if this game they played filled her with some childhood delight, as if she felt as reckless and carefree as she did when she was eight. He smiled at her. Sarah twisted her hips until she had managed to align her opening with his manhood. Just as she was about to lower herself on him, the king stilled her hips with his strong hands. “Sarah, I can’t love you.” He closed his eyes and bit into his lip. ‘Fool!’ he thought for he had meant to say he could not make love to her.
Shock fluttered his lids open when she descended on him regardless and whispered into his ear, “Sometimes Jareth, these things aren’t always about love. Sometimes sex is just sex.”
For a moment he wondered if that were possible. Could sex be nothing more than sex with her? Surely, it had been with so many other women who had come to his chambers and stayed in his bed. But this was different. When he took them, it was this mortal’s face he envisioned. There was no love to be suppressed, for he loved none of them. Now he lie motionless within his mortal, at the base of a mountain, an open field their home, a canvas tent their chamber. The rain continued to pound outside. The face he had been forced to imagine there for him to gaze upon at his will. Forcing back his heart’s involvement in his body’s act. Once again he reminded himself, ‘No harm can come from pleasing my mortal.’
Bracing herself by placing her open palms on his chest, Sarah rocked against the king allowing the wetness between them to slide her from the end of his shaft to the base, so that he stroked in and out of her, his pelvic bone rubbing against her clitoris every time she slid down him. Her fingers dug into his flesh, the familiar cries rising in her throat as her satisfaction grew closer and closer. Jareth watched her, the beads of perspiration which had formed along her cleavage. He reached for her, a breast in each palm gently rolling them against the leather gloves. Sensing just how close she was, knowing that it would not be long before he lost control of his own pleasure, Jareth flattened his feet to the ground beneath them, pushing up and into her as she came down on top of him. Sarah cried out his name and he felt the familiar tightening inside her that he had earlier. “Jareth! Jareth!”
“Umh,” was all he could manage as he fought the urge to return her cries. Mercifully, her body stopped its chaotic shaking before he reached his own release.
In the night, where the dark hid his tear filled eyes, Jareth held Sarah close to him. She snuggled under his arm, her head on his chest, her hand trolling over his muscles. The passion had ended. He was free to love her again, as she slept, when neither lips nor loins were joined. His quivering lips met her forehead before he too, closed his eyes and prayed that, with her ear pressed to his ribs, she would not hear his heart break.
Leave a comment or review in my LJ Community.
Please remember to include story title and chapter!