And now, for your reading enjoyment (well, in theory anyway), Play part 9.
A peach to thee,
Xarael
He was definitely becoming to playful for my good. A surge of will power was required for me not to show that I was enjoying it. A rather large surge of will power. But I managed it. A point for Jalen. Now, for a maneuver worth at least a few bonus points.
I let my mind flow dark, no thoughts, just the sensation of his hand on mine. Focusing, feeling the bond between us. That lovely, sultry, heated bond. Too bad it wasn't purely physical. Emotional bonds are more difficult to break. But I'd do what I could. I didn't need him exerting that kind of influence over me. Ever. Quite simply too dangerous.
The silky voice in my mind was whispering again. Come closer, come closer. A soft, sighing whisper. Soft enough to wrap around you and keep you warm. Very persuasive. Come closer.
I wasn't particularly in the mood to obey. Hmmm, fancy that. Forced subordination does have its turn-offs. I needed to make a show of defiance and I needed to do it now. Before that haunting whisper began to have more serious effects. Before what it whispered started to sound appealing.
I started to let my mind flow dark again. Completely this time. No focus, simply black. As deep and as dark and as empty as death. An inky blackness of consciousness. And, with a lovely thrust of power, I shot up into the air, wresting my hand from that stone grip.
Almost.
My fingertips danced across his for a moment. A mere fraction of a moment. Ah, but it was enough. Such reflexes he had. "Impressive, love. Most impressive." Darth Vader is a lovely character to quote.
"You do have a penchant for quoting movies."
"It does make for some wonderful witty repartee."
"You seem to manage quite well enough on your own." Such patronizing words with that deep voice. Deep enough to arouse some alarm and still run down your skin like a gentle touch. But such patronizing, condescending words. They really rubbed me the wrong way, as it were. Though that voice of his was rubbing me the right way. A contradiction from Jareth. Surprise, surprise.
He was grasping as I pulled away, drawing me towards him with sheer strength. A rather impressive bit of work, that. Of course, it wasn't particularly surprising. He usually went for controlling me in whatever way was readily available, re-asserting his dominance and superiority. Or at least, attempting to re-assert his dominance and superiority. Because, to re- assert it would mean that he had actually had asserted it at one point. Which wasn't the way of it at all.
As it was, we were engaged in a wild dance of movement which involved jerking this way and that with choreographed precision. A battle for control. Or, at least, an extension of the ongoing one.
Our hair was whipping about us like Medusa's locks, entwining and then disentangling in flashes, white blond and deep auburn mixing and coming free, the pull of the arms, a fluid motion of pale flesh and pale flesh, the struggle for control, backs arching, faces assuming different expressions- fierce grimaces or wicked smiles or perhaps the slightest clenching of the jaw and the eyes blank or heated or cruelly cold - rocking back and forth in an insane sort of rhythm, back and forth, back and forth, like one of those dratted crystals of his, back and forth, back and forth-
"This, " I murmured between breaths, rocking back, "seems a bit childish," rocking forward now, "love," pulling back, " even, " drawn forward again, "for us."
"We have," he rocked backwards, " our own set," pulled forward, "of standards," surging back again, " for behavior, then?" That damnable smile of his appeared. It's never hidden for long. Extraordinarily irritating for its mockery. Which was the intent.
"You," I said, wrenching him forward, "have," now drawn back towards him, "an overdeveloped," swinging around again, "sense of superiority," twisted towards him. This was getting a bit ridiculous, all this rocking and swaying about.
"Agreed, Jalen."
I twisted around him, "The superiority," he wrenched me back," or the rocking and," I drew him forward," swaying about?"
Ringing, ringing laughter from him as we suddenly became still. A musical laugh, so clear and pure. And to think, it came from Jareth. Who was most certainly not clear and pure. More like dark and manipulative. Admirable traits in an adversary.
"An adversary. That's what I am, hmmm? A limited role, to say the least." His hand was tightening around mine. The other hand ran against the side of my face, drawing my eyes onto his savagely angelic face. They didn't need much help getting there. Dratted lust.
Ignoring my body's opinion of the situation, I raised an eyebrow and put on a show of wry amusement. It wasn't particularly difficult. He was still terribly amusing, cavorting about with his psychological games. "Don't even try to blame me for that. You chose your own role."
"I think a re-audition is in order." A low, powerful thrust of the voice. He was playing serious again.
"That's your opinion." I stared into the ice of those eyes, trying to discern what was beneath the surface. What the mind was contemplating. Futile gesture for there was too much mental armor for me to penetrate unless he wanted me to do it. But then, I was always one for trying everything, no matter how futile. Again, one of the traits that led me into this perpetual nightlife. I would be dead otherwise.
Something was amusing him again. The ice of the eyes melted and was replaced by something warmer. The laughter was really coursing through them. "An opinion, is it? Well, it's a lot better than yours."
"Be that as it may. It's my decision and, therefore, my opinion takes precedence."
"Such logic."
"Don't go patronizing on me. You've done that enough already."
"Then give me another role to play, Jalen." He drew my name out in a long, slow whisper of a voice. The word brushed across my skin like the touch of a warm breath of air. So sensuous, so intimate. And his other hand was suddenly cradling my chin, his eyes boring into my eyes, a seductive little smile playing across his lips. Now that's a bit of a trick, to move faster than I could see.
"I really must start taking notes on you, love. This is manipulation of the highest caliber." I let a very unladylike smirk play across my own lips. "However, you appear to have forgotten one rather salient point. My physical lust doesn't hold the proverbial candle to my blood lust."
"Really." One word, so soft, so sure of itself. The invitation was open. So appealing. Infernal temptation.
I searched his eyes for a good, long while. Then, I moved right up to him, brushing his beautifully curved lips with mine. Pressing harder, feeling him press back. Opening, searching, touching, pushing, moving my hand towards his neck in a soft caress. The caressing hand snapped suddenly around his neck, encircling his throat in a grip of stone as I pulled back from him. His eyes opened and the ice blue gaze measured me, taking it all in.
"Yes, Jareth, really."
And now, for your reading pleasure, Play, part 10.
"You mix violence and seduction well, Jalen." Such a soft, soft, sensuous voice. How he managed it when I was, more or less, throttling him was beyond me. But then, he was always one for the unexpected. Tossing off a random compliment while my hands pressed tight around his lovely neck would be an excellent example of this.
"It's a gift." I was not amused at his compliment. Very not amused. Hunger will do you that to you. Imagine. "Now, if you're done toying with my varying appetites, might we go before I leave you hanging in the air by yourself?"
"You wouldn't do that." His throat locked between my hands and still he was arrogant. That was pure Jareth for you, confident as hell.
"You're so sure, are you?" My voice was soft and caressing. A slight tremor passed through his jaw line. He wasn't the only one whose voice could brush across the skin like the wind. Though the silky warmth was a recent addition to it. Vampires are such wonderful mimics.
His hands were suddenly at my wrists, forcing them apart in a flashy display of strength. A quick surge of power and my hands were encompassed in his, quite a safe distance from his neck. His eyes were locked on mine, his hands holding my hands apart and immobile. "Quite."
I studied the beautiful planes and angles of his sculptured face, the triumphant amusement in his eyes, the self-assured smile on his sensuous lips. And I laughed. A pure fit of hysterical laughter with my head thrown back and my chest heaving for air and my eyes tearing with merriment. Positively weak with laughter. Those two hands which imprisoned my wrists ended up holding me up, I was so consumed with laughter. "You've been holding out on me, love. You could model for Playgirl with poses like that."
His eyes hardened as he watched me convulse with laughter. The superior smile faded slightly and he cocked his head a bit to the side to study me. The grip at my wrists held firm. Probably thought I was planning something. Well, give me a moment and I would be. For now however, I was concentrating on being amused. It wasn't particularly difficult.
His face was serious now. Too serious. Slight tightness at the corner of his mouth. The eyes were warming and his jawline was twitching. My laughter has been termed infectious for a reason.
I paused in my laughing to gasp in a breath of chill air, a barely contained laugh struggling across my face and an innocent look manifest in my eyes. "Well, go on, laugh."
That did it. His control broke. He lovely blue eyes closed and the night was filled with the silver ringing of his laughter. The blue gaze caught my golden one when his eyes opened. "I believe that's my line."
My laughter was subsiding a bit. "Not my fault. You missed your cue." A fresh bout of hilarity seized me at that. My silvery laughter was echoed by the rich, golden sounds of his own. The crystalline blue eyes closed again. The strength surrounding my wrists was not quite so much as it initially was. Opportunity, opportunity.
There was silence, suddenly, and the force around my wrists was fierce. "Going to fly away were you?" He pulled me against him, letting me feel him, all of him. That heated, throbbing pulse of him. "Really, Jalen, where is your sense of fair play?"
"Around the same place you left yours, love." I laughed softly. "Apparently at home." I closed my eyes and opened my sense of touch, savoring the feel of his warm touch, the strong press of his body against my own, listening to the steady pumping of his heart, so strong, so strong. Ah well, enough of that. Back to the game. I pressed my body into his, nuzzling into his shoulder. I could feel the surge of lust in him, rising like a storm. I turned to give him the full force of my eyes, noting his superb demonstration of control. It wasn't easy for him, no, not at all. I smiled bewitchingly at him, exulting in my effect on him. I know gloating isn't very ladylike but, well, so be it. "You do know, of course, all's fair-"
"In love and war?" His exquisite face was so close to mine, his mouth temptingly near, terribly mocking and seductive. Very well planned, give credit where credit's due. That dramatic flair of his was shining through. And now the penetrating gaze locked on my eyes, the force of will echoing through them. He was waiting for my answer. How gentlemanly.
I snorted. How ladylike. "More like lust and war. Don't start a game of emotional tag with me, love. I'll wreak havoc with you."
"Will you really?" So infuriatingly confident. Damnable man.
"Don't you have someone else to toy with, Jareth?"
"Plenty of offers." He pressed his lips softly to the top of my left hand, lingering on the skin, eyes staring into mine still. Waiting for my reaction. I hid my pure pleasure and put on a mask of indifference, yawning in a bored sort of way. It's a very simple and direct way to annoy him. It requires incredible control but the effect is worth it. The grip around my right hand was looser.
He glanced coolly at me, clearly irritated. And then laughed softly, the cruel expression flowing into a wry smile. "But no one retaliates like you do, Jalen."
He made a mock bow and bent to kiss my left hand again. I snapped my right hand free and entwined it in his lovely golden tresses, pulling up hard. I received a glare for that. Good. "Yes, it's a talent. Now, if I might have my left hand back?"
A grin worthy of the Cheshire Cat spread across his sculptured features. "You don't want me to give it back, Jalen." I really needed to erect some decent mental barriers. The ease with which he delved through my mind was getting to be a bit embarassing.
I gazed levelly at him at let a small, secret smile spread across my lips. "True. However, completely irrelevant. Let my hand free." The strength around my left wrist increased. And laughter came from his eyes. His answer was quite clear.
I didn't really think it would be all that simple, anyway.
Loosening myself from that grasp would require a bit of planning. And the only plan that was coming to mind involved quite a bit of pain. And it would require that I get a drink in the immediate future. No more of this playing with crystals or toying with minds.
I sighed mentally. Things were never easy.
Ah well. That's the point, I suppose.
Play: Part 11.
My hand slid down, disentangling itself from his silky hair, resting lightly on his neck. I could feel the coolness of my flesh bleeding through to him, feel the heated warmth of him coming back to me. He recoiled ever so slightly from my touch, though his eyes never left mine. Such control. I pressed my icy palm hard into his silky skin, savoring his struggle not to grimace.
I let some of his superiority cross into my eyes, darkening them. Moving my lips close to his, close enough to feel the heat radiating from him, I whispered,"It's your own fault, love."
"And how's that?" A flash of a playful smile, his hand toying with one of my curls, bouncing it back and forth, back and forth.
My hand moved up from his neck, behind, roaming along the soft, fine hairs just above his neck. Winding them around my fingers and tugging gently, back and forth, back and forth. "I could be wrong, of course." I gave one silky strand a sharp tweak. Nothing like a little physical pain to punctuate a remark. "Perhaps it was another beautiful, infuriating sometime Goblin King who prevented me from getting a decent drink before now."
"So I'm beautiful to you, am I?" The smile widened and the eyes laughed at me. His hand moved from my curls to the side of my face, brushing softly across the skin. Again. And again. Manipulation by pleasure-inducing touch. Emphasis on the pleasure-inducing part. The softest brush of his hand, fingering the skin along my jawline. Purely sensual. The caressing hand moved beneath my chin, raising it up ever so slightly. Asserting his control over me.
My hand was at his instantly, gripping his wrist tightly, forcing it down. A sweet smile, a sardonic tone to the voice. "Trust you to focus on the wrong part of the statement."
"What's said is said." The hand which had been forced down went further down by its own volition. Gliding slowly over my shoulder, lingering down my side, resting finally on the velvet cloth at my waist. Still trying to dominate me. He got points for persistence, certainly.
I raked a nail across the soft part of his hand, leaving a long red mark. I wasn't particularly in the mood to be dominated. Actually, I never was. Sort of a long standing tradition. If there was dominating to be done, I liked to be the one doing it.
Ah, but I did receive a malevolent glare for that impulsive act. Though the offending hand did remove itself. Slowly. To emphasize that it was not on account of me that it was leaving.
"Especially the part about you being infuriating. That goes twice."
"The same could be said for you, Jalen." There was a sharp edge to the silky voice. My dear Jareth was more than slightly irritated.
"Which is why you keep coming back to me apparently. Doesn't speak well of your emotional health, now does it, love?" I let my laughter resound in his ear.
The wicked, feral grin returned. Positively wicked. Ah, there are too few men who know how to grin like that. I really did have a penchant for the bad archetypes. Possibly because I was one myself. But then, I wasn't really evil. Well, in the strictest sense, I was. Drinking blood doesn't go over very well with most people. But my character, my moral code - that wasn't the mark of pure evil. Which was the basic problem in my life, as it were. My conscience tormented me. That was why I tried to keep my hunt confined to those who were the proverbial scum of the mortal realm.
Perhaps I studied Jareth because he didn't seem to have this ongoing war with guilt. He did what he did and moved on, seemingly remorseless. Perhaps that was the basis for my attraction to him. To understand how he escaped such pricks of conscience.
The previously offending hand returned to the side of my face, touching it softly. "My little psychologist."
I hissed at him. Quite unintentionally, of course. A little psychologist, indeed. I resisted the urge to snarl. Really wasn't a very ladylike habit, after all. I compromised by throwing his hand aside rather ungraciously and moving back from him. Anger and annoyance surged up through my mind. And he knew it, damnable man.
His smile had only deepened at my emotional struggle. It was pure retaliation for him. I had irritated him, now he irritated me. Such a pair we were.
It was my turn again, apparently. All right, perhaps I would enact my little plan to free myself of his grasp entirely. That would be a decent blow to his pride - that he couldn't contain me, control me. Besides, it wasn't as if he had a shortage of pride. Of course, neither did I. Which is what made our little interactions interesting. Which was completely beside the point right now. Because at this particular point in time, my dear Jareth's ego was starting to make another show of force.
He was twisting my little white hand at the wrist, pulling me closer to him, allowing the first fiery webs of pain to blossom across my forearm. The pain was his special reminder to me that he was still in control, or something along those lines. Well, I certainly couldn't let him labor under that delusion, now could I? Wouldn't be fair and all that.
I casually wrenched my hand from his by way of breaking my wrist. A sickening, wet crack filled the silence of the night.
Shock appeal, my stock and trade.
Play, part 12
But, oh, did the pain course through my arm then. Like fireworks. Little crackles of pain, all along the entire length of it. Scratch that. Rather large crackles of pain. Snap, crackle, pop. Liquid fire up and down my arm. I nearly fell from the air, my mind was so focused on it. And I'm sure an anguished scream or two came from my mouth without my express permission.
Ah, the joys of excruciating pain. Always good for a bit of entertainment. At least, from the reaction of those observing my particular brand of theatrics. Well, entertaining for me, at any rate. Which is usually all I cared about. Usually. There was always the excruciating pain part to focus on, too.
I forced my thoughts away from it all- which required not a little effort. Manually pushing the bones back into their rightful places was actually quite an interesting little feat - for I couldn't actually look at my wrist. Too simple for the focus to go back to the pain if I did that. Operating blind can be such fun anyway.
It's a useful trick to know your own biology. And I knew it well. Tonight would require more than one victim's blood to fully repair the damage. Just as well. My dear Jareth had come for the show, after all. Wouldn't want to disappoint him and all that. Well actually, I'm sure he could do with a bit of disappointment every now and then. Might give him something to truly pout about. He did have such a lovely pout.
I turned to look at my lovely traveling companion, my lovely adversary. To see my Jareth's expression then - ah, now that was truly grand. No pouting but something just as amusing. He was simply staring in what could be nothing other than shock. A very controlled sort of shock, albeit - but shock, nonetheless. Eyes opened a bit wider than usual, lips parted ever so slightly. Completely blank. Utterly sensual, though. It's a special sort of man that can look heart-rendingly gorgeous even when disgust and horror and general disbelief are crossing his face simultaneously. Such talent.
This whole episode was worth at least a few extra psychological bonus points, surely. I had frightened him, pierced some layer of emotional armor. Not that he would ever admit to this if questioned later. But I had done it, finally.
The implications of this, of course, were that my being hurt, in danger, and/or in pain had frightened him. I did not choose to think on this for very long. These sort of thoughts dredged up emotions which were easily readable - and I would rather he didn't know what I was thinking at that particular moment. Those were the emotions that could come back to haunt you at the most inopportune times. When engaged in a battle of Mind Chess, for instance. Very inopportune.
That sultry little subconscious whisper of his had stopped. An unexpected timeout in our game of Chess. Which was just fine. I could do without those tempting subtle suggestions. Especially since I had an unsettling thought that I had already followed some of those whispered words already. Love me, want me, love me, want me....fear me...
Ah, now this was interesting. Did I fear him? Perhaps. And if I did, that was probably part of the attraction, anyway. I inspire so much fear - something that inspires fear in me, now that is something that draws me...It's terribly dangerous, of course, to be around those things that frighten me. Of course, that's probably part of the attraction,too.
Ah, but enough of these musings. Back to the situation at hand.
I had succeeded in startling him enough for him to forget his mask of superiority. This was not a readily forgivable offense. It was a victory for me. And victories never come without retaliation following close behind. This, too, I chose not to think on for very long.
However, on a positive note, I was now free of the touch which, as advertised, had been pulse-quickening, or rather, concentration-straining. I turned my back on him then- Jareth still hovering motionless, stately and dignified as always-, moving off in my original direction. I focused my thoughts on the estimated time of arrival lest they stray into the dark territory of contemplating Jareth, not a well recommended thing to do at the moment. There's only so much control a thirsting, very intrigued vampire can be expected to have.
It would take, perhaps, five or so minutes to reach the part of the city where I preferred to hunt. The dirty, criminal, dangerous section of town where the proverbial scum of the city were. Home sweet home.
But for now, I was in the air. I do so love the sky, really I do.
I glided along through the heady rush of air at breath shattering speed. Because really, if you're going to glide through the air, the only speed to do it at is breath shattering. Besides the fact that it's impressive as hell to any on-lookers - arrogant Goblin Kings for instance -, there's something to be said about losing yourself in the natural elements, becoming the wind, the force, the power of Nature. That is, after all, as close as I'm able to come to being a part of the natural world. Though if you look at it as a sort of food chain cycle, I suppose I still do belong in the inherent order of things. Except that the only things in the natural world that are supposed to be airborne are the birds. Ah well. Never was much good at following the rules.
And there's something so liberating and seductive about it all, too. Flying through the air where no human can ever be. Closing the eyes, letting the mind go where it will, leading the body. Trusting inherently that you will not be led astray. The mind's a very reliable thing, as far as direction sense goes. It does, however, run into a bit of a problem when asked to suddenly dodge random objects thrown in its path. Or rather, random people who are thrown in its path. Or actually, random people who materialize in its path.
And so, as expected, it ran into a bit of a problem when Jareth materialized directly in front of me. Or, more actually, it collided. Rather hard. As did the rest of me.
This hurt more than just a bit, as you would imagine.
Crashing into him at the aforementioned breath shattering speed, I took what seemed the most reasonable option. I fell.
Not forgetting to drag him down with me, of course.
Which I ended up doing by grabbing hold of his shoulder with the hand whose wrist I had so recently reconstructed. The bones began to slide and shift, the wet, popping sounds returning, resounding so nicely right by his ear. The white fire of pain returned, too, of course. But my focus was on my dear Jareth, measuring his reaction to this delightfully sickening sound, the grind of the bones, the lovely slushy sound of various bits of them moving about in strange ways. If I was going to go through the agony of rearranging my wrist for the second time in one night, both times on account of his pride, I would do my best to make sure he got to enjoy every graphic detail of it.
It was only fair, really.