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Chapter Text

A deafening screech yanked Sarah from unconsciousness and made her shoot up, unseeing eyes darting around. At first she stupidly thought a banshee was in her bedroom, but as the noise continued and her mind cleared, it started to sound more like metal scraping against stone. Light spilled into the room and Sarah managed to see a gigantic metal door swing forward before she was forced to slam her eyes shut, yelling out at the pain that seared through them.

Somebody with a broad palm seized her arm and pulled her upright, forcing Sarah to open her eyes a slit. A square-jawed man with a head of spiky violet hair stared down at her, a deep-set scowl etched on his face.

“Who’re you?” Sarah slurred and blinked at him, still groggy.

He ignored her and held up a small, perfectly round crystal ball. Sarah was instantly awake at the sight of it, and with a gasp she tried to yank her arm out of his hold. He let go of her arm, but grabbed her hand instead and held her with an iron grip, forcing her fingers open. He pressed the crystal against her exposed palm, so hard her skin pressed into her bones, and Sarah watched fearfully as it clouded before turning a deep blue color. The man dropped her hand and turned his back on her, blue crystal popping out of existence.

“What did you just do?” she asked.

He ignored her and disappeared through the door, which looked like one from an old-fashioned prison—solid and sans bars, with nothing but a food slot.

“Hey! What did that mean?”

The door slammed shut, and Sarah crouched down so she could look through the food slot and watch his retreating back. Growing angry, she banged her fist against the metal and yelled, “Hey, eggplant! Come back and let me out of here now! I’m talking to you! Hey!”

Eggplant continued to ignore her, getting smaller and smaller the farther he walked. Sarah huffed out a breath, but sucked in another one right after when her head spun from the simple gesture. A throbbing started up in her temple, and she leaned her forehead against the door.

“What the hell did you do to me?” she breathed, much quieter than before.

Did it have something to do with that crystal he tried to force into her skin? Sarah held up her palm to look for anything unusual, and found nothing but her own unblemished hand. Then again, she reasoned, whatever magic he’d just used on her probably wouldn’t leave any physical traces; the roofied peach she’d eaten during her time in the Labyrinth hadn’t. And speaking of the peach… there was no way the Goblin King wasn’t involved in all this. Crystal balls, magic and crazy hair were his forte.

Scowling, Sarah forced herself to stand up and back away from the door, but stopped at once when she felt something tug on her ankle. She found a loose-fitting iron cuff clamped around her leg, and with her eyes she followed the cuff’s long chain to a ring buried firmly in a stone wall.

Groaning, Sarah dug the heels of her hands into her eyes and muttered, “Chains… of course. ‘Cause, y’know, why ruin the moody dungeon atmosphere?”

The faintest of chuckles came from behind Sarah and she whirled around at once, surprised to see someone else in the room. All she could see of the person was a portion of a pair of legs, clearly male and clad in knee-high black boots. A cuff was clipped around his ankle as well and his chain was as long as hers, allowing him freedom to reach her if he wanted to. She immediately backed away.

“Who are you?” Sarah asked, trying to sound fierce and failing when her voice cracked.

“Surely, Sarah, it has not so been so long that you have forgotten me,” he said, in a rich baritone voice.

Sarah flinched, not needing to see the face blanketed by shadows to know he was the Goblin King. Nonetheless…

“Why don’t you come out of the dark so I can actually see if it’s you?” she said, still wary.

There was silence, and Sarah saw one of his boots shift.

“I cannot,” he said, finally.

“Why not?”

“I would rather not move, if it’s all the same.”

Frowning, Sarah considered going over there and investigating, but her better instincts immediately vetoed the decision to go anywhere near the Goblin King, in all his mysterious, shadowed glory.

Throwing up her hands, she said, “All right, fine, whatever.”

Her head gave a low, tell-tale throb and she winced, certain a hell of a headache was coming on.

Jareth apparently saw it, because he suggested, “Sit down and cover your eyes. The light makes it worse.”

She scowled but obliged, sitting down in the corner farthest from him and pressing her hands to her eyes. To her surprise, her dizziness and pain started to subside almost at once.

“So, since you apparently know so much about it, mind telling me what the hell was done to me?” she snarked, keeping her hands in place.

“What do you remember?”

Sarah’s brow furrowed, as she tried to recall what she was doing before all of this happened. It was a regular night in her regular life—she had been walking home from the library after going on a midterm study binge, and took her usual shortcut through one of the back alleys… except this time somebody had grabbed her from behind and pressed a bundle of cloth against her nose. She recalled it had smelled spicy, like some kind of herb. Probably their equivalent of chloroform.

“Somebody drugged me.”

“It was Feylan. Or Eggplant, as you have dubbed him,” said Jareth, with a hint of amusement in his voice.

“And what exactly did Eggplant drug me with?”

“An anesthetic herb. It is one of the few that are compatible with human physiology, although it has some severe side effects, such as your light sensitivity.”

Sarah blew out a breath and tried to stop herself from calling Jareth out. So all of this was premeditated—it had to be, if they’d gone out of their way to get drugs that wouldn’t kill her. The idea that the Goblin King could be behind it had been set aside upon discovering he was sharing the cell with her, but for all she knew this was just another trick. He was good at them, after all… and the fact that he was refusing to leave his shadowy corner wasn’t helping his cause. Best to play dumb and try to probe as discreetly as possible.

“When’s this gonna wear off?” she asked after a few minutes, sticking to the safe questions.

“I believe you should be fine by now.”

Sarah slowly pulled her hands from her eyes and blinked, relaxing when her eyes handled the scene just fine. They had also adjusted to compensate for the dim lighting in the cell, and she could now see the straight stone texture of the walls, with several other chains dangling from rings, as though the cell was meant to hold more people. It was cleaner than she expected a medieval dungeon to be—a bit dusty, but no leftover torture devices or skeletons.

“Where are we?” said Sarah, blinking some more. “Are we in your castle?”

“No,” he responded, after a long moment of silence. “We are in the High King’s castle.”

“Who’s that?”

He took another pause, and Sarah looked towards him, surprised to find that she could now see the Goblin King—no details, just his figure. He was slumped over in the farthest corner, almost like he didn’t have the energy to keep himself upright. Curious…

“The High King is the ultimate ruler of my people, Sarah,” the Goblin King said. She shivered; the last time he’d said her name, he’d been in her face, angry, desperate and threatening. “He and the Council are the ones who keep our kingdoms in order.”

“Are they why you’re here?”

Probe carefully, Williams, she thought.

“They are indeed.”

He didn’t seem like he wanted to continue, but Sarah pressed on.

“Did you… I don’t know, piss them off or something?”

“I most certainly did.”

“But you’re a king,” Sarah said, frowning. “Aren’t you kind of untouchable?”

Jareth chuckled again. “I am only King of the Goblin Kingdom, Sarah. It is the smallest of kingdoms.”

She was stunned by the news, staring wide-eyed at her knees. She’d never even imagined anything outside the Labyrinth existed.

He continued, “And even if it was not, it would be irrelevant. The High Council’s word is law, and if anyone defies their word, they are punished.”

“What did they tell you to do?”

His textureless figure turned, and Sarah could feel his eyes on her.

“They… requested I take part in a ceremony,” he bit out, “and I refused. One does not refuse the Council.”

“Then why’d you do refuse if you knew they wouldn’t take it well? What kind of ceremony was it? What’s so bad about it that you’d refuse?”

“Sarah, do take a breath,” Jareth said dryly, and she scowled in his direction.

“All right,” said Sarah through gritted teeth, “if that’s why you’re here, then why am I here?”

She was getting really sick of his long pauses. Why couldn’t he just tell her, instead of having to think over his answers?

“You… have regretfully been caught in the middle of this dispute,” Jareth said quietly. “You will also be participating in the ceremony.”

“What?” Sarah exclaimed. “I thought you said you’d refused.”

“I also said ‘one does not refuse the Council’.”

“Well sheesh, I don’t want any part of whatever ceremony your people have going on, especially if it’s so bad that you got yourself locked up over it,” said Sarah. “Can’t you just… magic us out, or whatever it is you do?”

“I’m afraid not. I have been temporarily stripped of my power, as punishment for refusing.”

“Temporarily?”

“It will be restored once the ceremony is complete.”

“Will they let me go home after it’s over?”

She heard him exhale a breath.

“They will. But it will take some time.”

“What?” Sarah frowned. “Why not?”

“It is… complicated.”

Sarah let out a dramatic groan and threw up her hands.

“Oh, for God’s sake.” She glared straight at him, looking at his face where she estimated his eyes would be. “If I’m going to be forced to participate in whatever this is, I’m going to need to know what it is and what it means. And I’m going to need you to stop lying to me.”

“I have never lied to you, Sarah.”

His tone was low and upset. She didn’t care, too angry to see straight.

“Fine, whatever, that’s an argument for a time when we’re not in chains,” she growled. “Now tell me what this ceremony is about.”

“I do not think you will enjoy the answer, Sarah,” Jareth snapped, sitting up sharply.

She saw him tense up almost at once and slump back down, letting out a groan of pain. Sarah frowned again.

“Are you okay?”

“I could be better,” he grunted. “Don’t, Sarah,” Jareth added firmly, when Sarah made to crawl over to him.

She paused. “Why not?”

He stayed quiet, so she continued her crawl. She flinched and stopped when her hand met something goopy and sticky in a small puddle on the ground.

“What the…?”

Sarah held her hand up to her face and gasped—it was blood. She immediately looked at Jareth, whose indiscernible figure looked stiff and unmoving.

Fearing the worst, she adopted her softest nurse voice and said, “Here, just let me see.”

His outline relaxed a little, and she used the opportunity to reach towards his arm, grasp it and gently guide him into the light. She flinched a second time at the sight of him; he looked like he’d been put through a wood chipper. His clothes were torn and soaked with blood in places, his skin was dotted with bruises and cuts in varying stages of healing, and swollen ligature marks made hideous circles around his wrists.

“Oh God, what did they do to you?” she said, shocked.

His head had been turned away from her—in shame?—but he laughed wryly at her question and lifted it to rest against the wall, showing off a cut lip and another bruise on his jaw.

“In… urgent situations such as this one,” he said, “the High Court is permitted to provisionally strip a monarch of his title and use whatever force is necessary.”

“They beat you up?” Sarah exclaimed, horrified as she looked him over. “Jesus, Goblin King, is that metal in your arm?”

He made a non-committal noise, now watching her face with hooded eyes. From here, it looked like they’d stabbed him with some kind of dark metal dagger and the tip of it had broken off. She made to touch the wound, but pulled back.

“I need to sterilize my hands—and your wound—before I can get the piece out,” she told him.

“Infection is not something my people fear,” Jareth answered back, in the quietest of voices.

“Are you sure?” He nodded, so she took his arm gently in her hands again. “It would be easier if I had a cloth, or some water.”

Sarah’s eyes immediately fell to the hem of his shirt, which hung almost in ribbons.

He noticed her gesture and said, “Do help yourself, Sarah. I have little use for a tattered shirt, in any case.”

Sarah nodded and leaned down to grasp the hem of his shirt, missing the way Jareth leaned his head down to take a deep inhale of her scent. He replaced himself just in time and allowed Sarah to grasp his arms, lifting them in turn so she could pull his shirt off. Her nose wrinkled and her brows furrowed at the sight of his torso, battered and covered in lash marks, but she silently went about ripping bandages from his shirt.

“Here,” she said, producing several long swaths. Perching herself so her knees were up, she placed his injured arm palm-up on her kneecaps like a pedestal and said regretfully, “This is probably going to hurt like hell.”

Without any more warning than that, she used a cloth to grasp the metal piece’s jagged corner and pulled. He yelled out in pain, but only for a moment, before he bit it back with an eerie amount of self-discipline.

“You okay?” she said, cradling the bloody shard in the cloth.

“I am fine, Sarah,” he said, panting heavily.

She grimaced at his response, but said, “The piece is out, at least. I’m just going to bandage you now, all right?”

He nodded, breaths evening out as he watched her tie the longest cloth around his dripping wound, tossing the metal piece into the corner where they’d couldn’t accidentally step on it.

“You are very knowledgeable in this field, Sarah.”

She shrugged. “I’m in a medical program.”

“You are a physician?”

“Sort of. More like a physician in training.”

Once again, she winced when she finished tying off the bandage and took his left hand, finding that two of his fingernails had been torn off. Unconsciously, she caressed his fingertips with her thumb, leaving his quick inhale unnoticed. She’d never seen him without gloves before.

“It will heal quickly, Sarah,” he said in quiet reassurance, almost like he was comforting her. “My kind is not so fragile as yours.”

Still, she thought to herself. Who in this world thinks it appropriate to beat a king? It seemed horrendously barbaric. Her stomach turned when a brief image of Jareth chained down and screaming as a faceless man tortured him.

“What is so bad about this ceremony that you’d go through this,” she asked, “just to avoid participating?”

“They involved you,” he murmured.

Confused, she looked up at him and was stunned to find his face a lot closer than she’d anticipated, so close she could see every detail from the dried blood on his mouth to the blown pupil of his right eye.

Just fear me, love me, do as I say and I will be your slave.

Heartbeat stuttering, she hastily drew back a foot and stammered, “I-I don’t understand.”

At her withdrawal, he sighed and leaned back against the wall.

“It is degrading for royalty to be participants in the br—in the ceremony,” he corrected himself abruptly. “Such a duty is usually filled by unwed nobles. Kings are never approached to fill such a role.”

“And yet you were,” she pointed out.

“I know,” Jareth scowled, suddenly looking furious. “Sufficed to say, I was displeased and refused at once. But of course—”

“—one doesn’t refuse the Council,” Sarah finished for him, already getting sick of the concept.

“Precisely. They offered incentives, and then punishment.”

“Are they going to punish me if I also refuse?”

The look on Jareth’s face was Sarah’s answer. She wanted to press her hands to her mouth, but she refrained as they were sticky with Jareth’s blood.

“Just tell me what this ceremony is,” she pleaded with him. “I don’t want to go into this thing blind, Goblin King.”

“You will not like it.”

“I’d rather know.”

He heaved out another sigh, lifting his uninjured hand to run it through his hair.

“My people…” he started, looking pained, “live for a very long time, Sarah, in comparison to humans.” Sarah frowned; what did this have to do with a ceremony? “A consequence of this near-immortality is a serious difficulty conceiving children. As such, to keep from dying out, the Council has implemented the ceremony each decade as a failsafe.”

Sarah waited for him to explain further, but he didn’t.

“I don’t understand. What happens at this ceremony?”

Jareth let out an exasperated breath and snapped out, “They select two people to fuck in front of them, Sarah.”

At first she was just stunned at his sudden anger; when his words properly sank in, Sarah let out a horrified yell and immediately catapulted herself away from him. She’d been chained up in a castle dungeon with the Goblin King, and was expected to have sex with him in front of an audience so that they could keep the child that might come out of it?!

“Oh my God,” Sarah spat out, hiding her flaming face behind her hands. “Oh my God.”

“Indeed,” said Jareth wryly.

“What the hell kind of a ceremony is that?” she snarled at him through her fingers. God, no wonder he’d refused. “Is there anything about your people that isn’t totally barbaric?”

“I beg your pardon?” he replied indignantly.

His response only angered her further.

“I’m sorry—I was kidnapped at four in the morning, drugged and brought here for… that, but you’re the one who’s offended?”

“The breeding ceremony has become a well-loved practice, Sarah,” Jareth said. “It is implemented in most kingdoms, and peasants have created their own less official derivatives.”

“Great, so it’s National Screwing Day,” Sarah snapped. He scowled at her, but Sarah was on a rampage. “And all of this craziness is so that I maybe get pregnant? I’m not ready to be a mom! I don’t want to have a kid with you!”

“Do believe me, Sarah, I do not wish to conceive a child with you either.” The shadow in his eyes and the way he refused to look at her made her think there was more behind his words. “That was what Feylan was doing earlier. He was checking to see if you were ovulating.”

She hugged her knees to her stomach, terrifyingly aware that she hadn’t had her period for a while. If she wasn’t ovulating now, she would be soon.

“But why me?” she whispered, near tears.

She had her face buried in her knees, so she missed Jareth throwing her a regretful look in her direction.

“Several reasons,” he said quietly. “Humans are occasionally taken from your world, if the birth rate has been scarce. Fae women are quite often infertile, but human women are not. And you… mingled well with magic, during your time here.”

“In the Labyrinth?” said Sarah, lifting her head up. “I did?”

“Yes, Sarah. Most creatures of magic do not take well to mortals, but you managed to earn their loyalty.”

Sarah hummed in response, trying to remember which ‘creatures of magic’ she’d encountered. All she could think of were the fairies, one of whom had bitten her, and the Fireys, who’d tried to tear off her head. Maybe he meant Ludo? His rock-calling ability could definitely be classified as magic.

“Do believe me, Sarah,” said Jareth fiercely, startling her out of her daydream. “When I learned they had chosen you, I tried to fight them.”

“And that’s why they beat you,” Sarah mumbled, remembering his earlier words of, “They involved you.” Her face burned at the idea of the Goblin King enduring torture for her. “But you said they take humans sometimes. Do they just snatch them up like they did with me?”

“No. Normally, if they are forced to find a human, they take those who are without a partner and do not wish to have children. That way there is no attachment to the babe.” Sarah snorted with disgust. “The human is then returned home, with no memory of what had transpired.”

“Charming,” she said sarcastically. “Nice to know I’m getting the special treatment.”

There was another tense silence, before Jareth asked with clear hesitation, “You… are without a partner, yes?”

Face burning, she scowled at him. “Yes.”

“Are you a maiden?”

“What? Are you asking me if I’m a virgin?” He nodded, eyes blazing, and she blushed crimson and buried her face in her lap. “Yes, okay, I’m a virgin. Why?”

“Perhaps that is your ticket out of here, my dear.”

Sarah heard him shift and grunt, and she lifted her head again to look at him. He was struggling to sit upright, using his uninjured hand to lift himself.

“What are you doing?” asked Sarah with confusion.

“Attempting to stand,” Jareth responded. “I would appreciate some assistance,” he added with a piercing look, and she scrambled back over to his side.

Bracing herself, Sarah managed to support his mangled hand with her forearm, as he held onto the wall with his good hand, unable to stop her face from burning like a small sun. Now that she knew just what she and Jareth were expected to do, everything seemed suggestive—the way his hip pressed into her thigh, the way his head was bowing over her neck, and how he panted and grunted in her ear with the mere act of standing up. She felt a twinge in her abdomen and felt ashamed for it. Here he was, taking debilitating punishment to keep her from having to do this, and all she could do in return was think inappropriate thoughts.

Like all those nights she’d spent touching herself, imagining him flying in through her window and taking her without question. God, if it wasn’t for the fact that they’d have an audience, Sarah wouldn’t be complaining.

“I must speak with Feylan,” Jareth murmured, mouth still right next to her ear.

She shivered and then flushed, praying he hadn’t seen it. “Last I saw Eggplant, he was leaving.”

“He has a post just around the corner.” He quirked an eyebrow at her, and granted her a small smirk. “If I become enough of a nuisance, he’ll come.”

Sarah helped him across the room, both of their chains dragging behind them, a weighty reminder of the seriousness of their plight. Jareth dropped to his knees when he reached the food slot, and Sarah watched as he held his face so close to it, he was almost kissing it.

“Feylan,” Jareth boomed, in the strongest, most regal voice Sarah had ever heard him use. “I demand your attention at once!”

Sarah watched, wringing her hands as Jareth peered through the slot. He gestured at her to help him up again, and she obliged, backing them both up just in time for the door to swing open. Bright light spilled in—nowhere near as piercing and painful as before—and Sarah watched as Eggplant stepped in, still scowling.

“Yes, Your Majesty.”

He spoke in a much softer tone than Sarah had expected for someone so stony-faced. In the light of the doorway Sarah could properly make out Feylan’s face—his eyes were just as purple as his hair, pupils catlike, and Sarah wondered if he was a different race than Jareth.

“You must tell the Council that Sarah cannot participate in the ceremony.”

Eggplant cocked a violet eyebrow in her direction. “And why is that? Is she already with child?”

Sarah wrinkled her nose at him, and Jareth said in an earnest voice, “She is a maiden.”

Eggplant did pause then, staring at Sarah so hard she squirmed.

“I… will relay the news,” he said, before turning on his heel and slamming the door shut behind him again.

Jareth gave her arm a squeeze and told her gently, “Maidens are never selected for the ceremony, Sarah. It is considered an atrocity to have them sullied in such a way.”

“But what about you?” said Sarah. “You’ll still have to go through with it.”

“I will be fine, Sarah,” he answered, and granted her a warm smile that had her heart stuttering. “But I am honored to know you are concerned for me.”

Holy Jesus, was the only response she had the brainpower to think of, so instead she just blushed down at her shoes.

When she’d calmed down enough to think, she whispered, “You’re different.”

“Hm?”

“You’re different,” she repeated, daring to look up at him. He met her eyes with a firm stare, and she had to pull back a bit to stop from getting lost in his gaze. “Last time you were all moody and imposing, and… throwing magic snakes in my face.”

The side of his mouth quirked up. “As I said last time, Sarah, I was merely playing the role you wanted me to play.”

She scrunched up her nose. “Huh?”

“I am the Giver of Dreams, Sarah-mine,” he murmured, “and I’d seen yours long before we met. You wanted a villain to fight, and I gave you one.”

“So nothing you did was really you? You were just doing what I wanted?”

Did that mean ‘fear me, love me, do as I say and I will be your slave’ wasn’t real too? She was torn between hoping it hadn’t been real, and hoping that it had.

“Most of it was not real.”

His deliberate use of the word ‘most’ had Sarah narrowing her eyes.

“Which parts were real?”

He sent her a blazing look that rocked her straight to her core, and she immediately ducked her head to stare at the floor, not sure she wanted an answer anymore. A few moments passed in tense silence before the door opened again. Feylan/Eggplant entered with an impeccably straight posture and a firm expression, and something about it told Sarah she wasn’t going to like his answer.

“The Council has decided to proceed with the ceremony as planned,” he said, and Sarah’s heart dropped into her stomach.

“What?” Jareth hissed. “They cannot! She is a maiden.”

“She is a human,” Feylan sniffed. “Humans do not value their modesty as Fae do. The Council will not make an exception for her.”

Sarah’s breath hitched in fear, and despite normally wanting to put up a brave front, she gripped Jareth’s arm like a child. Despite his wounds, he pushed her behind him as though to protect her from Feylan.

“You cannot do this,” Jareth growled, but Feylan was already disappearing back through the door. “I will not forgive you for this, Feylan!” he added, dropping back down so he could shout through the food slot.

He banged his fist hard on the door and hissed at the self-inflicted pain, realizing he’d used his bad hand. The image of Jareth knelt over the door swam, and a tiny, choked noise escaped her mouth and made him turn. He looked broken when he saw Sarah standing a foot away from him with tears spilling down her face, one hand pressed to her mouth.

“Oh, Sarah,” he breathed, opening his arms in invitation.

She took it at once, falling to her knees and lunging at him so she was half in his lap. Though his ribs likely ached, Jareth drew her as close as possible and gently rocked her, letting her sob against his bare chest.

“I am so very sorry for this, Sarah,” he said with regret.

Sarah clung to him and accepted his comfort. In God knows how long, she’d have to lose her virginity in front of a council of magical perverts. With the Goblin King. She wasn’t sure which part was worse, so she cried for both their sakes. The whole while Sarah cried herself dry Jareth kept busy, holding her tight, fingers slipping into her hair and cradling the back of her head. It helped console her somehow, and after a short while Sarah grew quiet, closing her eyes and just letting Jareth hold her.

Her eyes were heavy and she was tempted to drift off to sleep in his lap, but didn’t want the ceremony to come any quicker than it had to. Instead she thought hard about how to avoid it, cursing the Council for taking away Jareth’s powers. Unfortunately, the only plans Sarah could come up with that didn’t involve magic were ridiculous Mission: Impossible style forays that were probably doomed to fail. She almost burst into tears again; the reason she was a virgin in the first place was because she hadn’t wanted her first time to be some cheap hookup she’d later regret, and the Council was going to steal that from her. It wasn’t fair!

Almost on cue, Jareth let the hand in her hair slacken and drift down to her neck, stroking his thumb right underneath her ear. She tensed a little as a warm wave swept through her from the gesture, and then went totally rigid when it sparked a completely mad yet genius idea. It truly was her best option… but how could she possibly ask him? A violent blush burned her face, and she was glad it was hidden in his chest. God, she didn’t know how she would get over the mortification if he said no.

“Sarah?” She couldn’t help but lift her head to look at him. He looked concerned. “Are you all right?”

Go for it, Williams, she thought to herself. Just do it.

Sarah could taste his shock when their mouths connected.

Careful not to jostle any of his wounds, Sarah turned herself so she was facing him and let one hand drift up, cupping his sharp jaw and leaving no question as to her intentions. He seemed too stunned to do anything, so she let her tongue peek out and slide across his bottom lip, encouraging him to open. Jareth’s tongue darted out to meet hers in an almost curious way, and the moment he got the first taste of her he made a muffled sound and became more than a willing participant, kissing her back so fiercely her head jerked backward for a second. One hand seized her hip and the other wrapped itself in her hair, pressing her close enough to bruise. He coaxed her tongue into his mouth, sucking on it in such a blatantly suggestive way it made her shiver a little.

The man kissed like a last chance.

Underneath her palm, Sarah could feel the almost panicked flutter of Jareth’s heartbeat, and he was panting like he’d just run for miles. She wasn’t sure why, until his hands flew off her to grab ahold of her shoulders and push her away, staring at her. He looked half-terrified, and she was mesmerized for a moment by the depth of his differently shaded eyes.

“Sarah, what are you doing?” he almost growled.

Another blush came to her cheeks under the weight of his stare.

“I-I…” She swallowed hard. “I want you to be my first time,” she whispered, as though somebody was eavesdropping nearby. “Not in front of those people. I don’t want it to be like that.”

Still breathing heavily, Jareth continued to stare at her, looking uncertain; she scooted herself up so she was sitting in his lap and pressed her mouth to his ear.

“I want you, Goblin King,” she hissed, letting her breath wisp over his ear and feeling him tense. “In here, just us. No one else.”

Her own words were turning her on, but the ultimate nail on the head was when she pulled her face back and saw him with his eyes squeezed shut, a look of pure lust on his face. Faces like that should be carved onto marble statues.

“Sarah,” he grunted. “Think about what you are saying.”

“I am thinking,” Sarah insisted, pulling away for a moment. “I’ve had partners before, Goblin King. Do you want to know why I’m still a virgin?” Slowly, he opened his eyes to meet hers, a blazing look on his face. “It’s because I didn’t want to just lose it to someone who just wanted to get laid. I didn’t want to look back on my first time in the future and regret it,” she continued, playing a finger over the sharp edge of his collarbone.

He swallowed hard. “You will regret this.”

“Not if it’s you. Not if it’s just us.”

Jareth scanned her entire face as though searching for dishonesty. Sarah meant her words, but her head was so turned around by the insanity of the whole situation, she wasn’t sure if she would mean them later on. Reverently, he brought a hand up to graze the side of her face.

“Dear Gods, Sarah,” he breathed. “You would allow me?”

He acted like she was offering him the universe on a silver platter, and it made Sarah’s fear all but evaporate. Overwhelmed with a bizarre sense of gratitude, Sarah threw herself at him again with all the shamelessness of a harlot, and this time Jareth met her mouth with equal fervor. Her hands plunged into his unruly hair—she was surprised to find it a lot softer than it looked—and he made a little wanton noise when her fingers scraped a trail over his scalp.

She tasted the smallest amount of blood and her tongue darted out to search for the source, realizing Jareth’s lip had split again. Sarah pulled back, suddenly aware of his injuries and wondering if he was even able to do this at all, but he just seized her hips and yanked her forward again. He redirected his attention to her neck, tipping her head back and brushing a path of gentle kisses down the length of her throat, licking away the spotty trail of blood that was left behind. Sarah melted in his arms at the almost reverent gesture, and Jareth used the opportunity to carefully lower her onto the stone floor.

“What about you?” she breathed out, lightly touching one of the larger bruises on his bare torso.

“I don’t care,” he growled into her neck.

Sarah stilled anyway so she could watch him for any signs of pain, but Jareth, other than holding himself stiffly above her, showed none. He moved his kisses to her shoulder and then over her collarbone, pausing just above the swell of her breasts as though asking permission. Her core throbbed at the mental image of Jareth’s mouth latched around her nipple, and Sarah scrambled to pull off her blouse, almost tearing it in her haste. Jareth smiled against her skin and helped her undo the buttons with his good hand, pushing it off her shoulders and tugging it out from under her once it was off. He gently lifted her up so he could find the clasp of her bra, but after a while of fiddling with it he frowned.

“What the hell?” he said, sounding so bemused and adorable Sarah just had to giggle.

Brushing his hands away, she arched herself and circled her hands around her back to undo it for him. At the last moment Sarah was hit with a wave of insecurity, gripping the loose bra to keep her breasts covered, the usual self-deprecating comments on loop in her mind. What if they didn’t live up to the standards of his race’s women? What if all of her didn’t live up to the standards of his race’s women? She’d never seen one, but if Jareth himself was any indication, she probably couldn’t hold a candle to them.

“Sarah.”

His voice was quiet, but it broke her away from her thoughts. Jareth looked somber and apprehensive, and Sarah was expecting him to tell her to knock it off, she was perfect the way she was, just like in her stepmother’s corny Harlequin novels.

“I will stop, if that is what you want.”

Sarah blinked, realizing he’d taken her embarrassment as withdrawal. Swallowing, she decided it was time to stop playing coy and let go of her bra, ignoring it when it slid onto the floor and left her naked from the waist up. His eyes flicked down to her chest and returned to her face, as though still trying to maintain some sort of professionalism, but Sarah lifted one arm to loop around his neck and tilt his gaze back to her chest.

“I don’t want you to stop,” Sarah told him, and let her free hand trail down his torso and palm the front of his pants.

She didn’t need Jareth’s stuttering breath to know she’d found what she was looking for. She curled her hand around the outline of his cock and felt an odd mix of fierce lust and anxiousness at the solid width of him. How was he possibly going to fit? She remembered after a pause that she was supposed to be doing more than just feeling him, and experimentally rubbed the heel of her hand down his length.

“Good gods, Sarah,” Jareth moaned, seizing her hand with his own and pressing it down harder, showing her how he wanted it.

A slow, steady pulse throbbed between her legs and all she could think was Christ, that’s hot. As lost in lust as he was, she wriggled underneath him and whimpered, “Fuck, touch me.”

Jareth, still thrusting against her hand, immediately seized her breast and squeezed tight enough to hurt; she kicked her head back, surprised to find herself loving the pain. With her hand still trapped against his groin, she used her other one to tug at her pants, trying to shimmy them off. He reluctantly released her hand to help her, pulling her jeans and panties down to her ankles as far as the cuff of the chain would allow. For a moment Sarah was pulled back to clear-headed reality, realizing with another wave of mortification that she looked stupid with her pants barely hanging on, feet still clad in sneakers. He didn’t seem to notice, fingers trailing up her bare thighs and gently squeezing the flesh there, having come down a little from whatever frenzy he’d been in now that her hand wasn’t anywhere near his cock.

His fingers drew closer to her center; she sucked in an awaiting breath, unsure if she should spread her legs wider, beg for his touch, or just do as her high school girlfriends had instructed and let the man figure it out for himself. Jareth made the choice for her, gently easing her other knee to the side to make room, spreading her embarrassingly open. She squeezed her eyes shut under his gentle scrutiny, believing if she didn’t she’d spontaneously combust.

Her eyes flew open again and she let out a surprised noise when he slid his index finger into her. It felt a bit like when she touched herself, but his finger was wider than hers and stretched her a little more than she was comfortable with yet.

“You’re not ready yet,” he murmured, echoing her thoughts as he withdrew his hand. He took her knee in his palm again and leaned down to press a trail of kisses down to her mid-thigh, meeting her eyes. “May I?”

Sarah nodded automatically, although she didn’t understand what he was asking—later she would note the bizarreness of the trust she’d displayed. She watched in shock as he lowered himself, his scorching stare only stopping at the last minute, and slipped his tongue into her folds. She let out another startled noise, far louder this time. Her hands whipped towards him—either to push him away or pull him closer, she wasn’t sure yet—but, uncertain of where their boundaries lay, she instead brought them back to her sides and scrabbled for purchase on the dusty stone floor, and holy shit, she thought, the Goblin King is going down on me. She felt him chuckle against her skin, like he’d read her mind (although he was probably laughing at her stunned reaction) before hitching one leg over his shoulder with one hand and tilting her hips up with the other hand on her backside.

The tip of his tongue painted thin, teasing lines up and down her slit, and just from the simple action her core throbbed like her heart had dropped down between her thighs. Her breath stuttered when he passed just over her clit, just enough to graze it, and he used the hand not holding her upright to slip his finger inside her again, pumping it slowly. She burned with each withdrawal and sucked in a breath with every return, and cried out when Jareth switched tactics and dragged the flat of his tongue over her sensitive bud.

Fearful of Feylan or some other guard hearing her, Sarah dragged her now dusty hand up to her face and clapped it over her mouth, letting her moans loose into her palm. Jareth growled and, to her shock, lightly bit down on her clit. She yelped, hips jerking from the sensation, only just catching the end of what Jareth was saying.

“…yourself—talk to me, love, let me listen to you…”

The Goblin King does some fantastic sexy talk, she thought to herself, whimpering a little from his words.

“Wh-what about Eggplant?” she breathed, voice cracking. “What if he comes to check?”

“He knows better than that,” Jareth said huskily, nuzzling the soft skin of her inner thigh with his nose, finger still thrusting inside her. “Just relax, precious… Like you said, it’s just us.”

Just us, Sarah repeated in her mind like a mantra, and nodded—and then immediately kicked her head back again when Jareth picked up right where he left off, flicking his tongue over her sex. She allowed herself to moan at the end of each heaving breath, crying out when he sped up his hand, and even breathed out a sharp, “Fuck,” when Jareth pulled her plump, hard little clit into his mouth, making her realize she’s actually a very loud woman.

He hummed in approval at her curse, prompting Sarah to try and lift her head to watch him. She let out a little whimper at the erotic sight of him buried between her legs, eyes closed like he was in bliss. His back rocked a little, and she raised herself up a bit higher to investigate; she collapsed back down immediately with her loudest groan yet when she found he had slipped his other hand out from underneath her, and was thrusting his still-clothed erection against his palm.

“Oh God!” she moaned, feeling hot and feverish and unbelievably turned on.

She blindly reached out with one trembling hand to rest it on his bare shoulder, moans increasing in pitch every time she felt his arm move to touch himself. Sarah felt herself finally building up, abdomen tightening with pleasure, and she squeezed his shoulder in a fumbling attempt to warn him. Jareth just pulled his hand away from his cock and twined his fingers with hers, continuing his vicious attack on her until suddenly her entire body seized up, breath stolen from her lungs, mouth dropped open in a cry and eyes forced shut against the forceful wave of her orgasm.

Sarah hit the ground with the force of a fifty-foot drop, melting over the stone tiles as she tried to gather her mind back together and catch her breath. Jareth was still bringing her down with little licks that grew lighter, until finally she couldn’t help but flinch away from his mouth, and he resolved to press little kisses to her raised thigh.

She opened her mouth to say something, and to her surprise, what came out was, “Holy fuck.”

She dissolved into embarrassed giggles, and Jareth tossed back his head and laughed as well—a sound she immediately knew she wanted to hear again. They just stared at each other for a moment, smiling like idiots, and Sarah once again opened her mouth talk—tell him something nice, like how incredible that had been, or how she thought his genuine smile suited him better than his usual smirk. Instead, remembering why they were here in the first place, she tugged on their still-entwined hands.

“Come here.”

His smile melted into something softer—she’d call it ‘loving’, if she dared to think the word—and he obliged, lifting himself above her again. Sarah’s hand raised up to caress his bruised jawline, and at the motion he finally kissed her of his own accord, groaning a little when Sarah adventurously darted her tongue out to taste the remnants of herself on his lips.

Figuring he’d been teased enough during this… whatever it was, Sarah pulled away and whispered, “Take this off.”

All of her embarrassment had fled (probably due to having the Goblin King’s tongue buried in her folds) and he seemed to adore it, eyes on fire as he stripped without once breaking their mutual stare. Sarah got a glimpse of him—dark, arched and longer than she’d expected—before he slid between her thighs, lining himself up. His eyes met hers again, full of a warning she understood at once—there was no going back after this. Nodding, Sarah wrapped her arms around his shoulders, a twinge of nervousness in her stomach.

“I’m ready,” she said, taking a deep breath.

Jareth immediately pushed all the way inside her, and an uncomfortable, aching pinch radiated through her insides. She grunted in pain and gripped his shoulders a bit too tight for a moment, legs instinctively trying to close but meeting his hips instead. Her insides clenched around him, but that made it worse, so she tried her best to relax.

Shuddering a bit, Jareth still found the mind to caress her hip and murmured, “There now, love, it’s over.”

“Don’t move yet,” Sarah bit out.

“I won’t.”

They stayed like that for a while, Sarah wincing against the discomfort of being stretched and Jareth trying to soothe her with soft touches and kisses here and there. Eventually it faded into the background, and Sarah let out the breath she’d been holding, loosening her iron-grip on his shoulders and letting her legs relax.

“Okay.”

Jareth’s hips immediately stuttered, like he’d been holding it back for a while; she gasped but, since it didn’t hurt as much, she gave his back a caress with one hand. He exhaled, breath playing across her face, as he gave a few slower, experimental thrusts, carefully watching her face for any signs of discomfort.

“It’s nice,” she assured him, bringing her hand over his jaw again. “You can go how you want to.”

He growled low in his chest and kissed her again, biting down gently on her lip as he picked up the pace a little. Her breath hitched—this was better than nice. His hand slid up her stomach and grasped one of her breasts again, and Sarah moaned against his mouth. Experimentally, she pushed her hips up on Jareth’s next downward thrust and they both let out startled groans. Well now she knew what all the fuss was about, she thought to herself. Madonna sure knew what she was talking about.

“Oh fuck, keep doing that,” Sarah burst out, when Jareth changed the angle so he was grazing her clit with every thrust.

“Yeah? Good?” he panted.

Cocky asshole, he knows it’s good, she thought, but forgave him when he bent over to catch her nipple between his teeth. Her fingers buried in his hair to keep him in place and she met him for each thrust, trying not to close her eyes at the overwhelming pleasure; he was watching her with a gaze so razor-sharp she feared she’d get cut if she looked away, his pace increasing with every flutter of her lashes or breathy sound she made.

To Sarah’s surprise, Jareth was the first one to break away, squeezing his eyes shut with a muttered, “Damn it.”

Sarah whimpered when he suddenly pulled out, her walls clenching and burning at the loss of him. She lifted her head up to see him with his eyes still closed tight, body trembling.

“What…?”

“You’re coming with me.”

Before she could respond, Jareth pushed two fingers inside her and mimicked what he’d been doing earlier with his cock, his thumb swiping over her clit; she jerked at the firmer touch, mouth falling open. Still, she couldn’t help but feel a bit selfish.

“Oh! Y-you already took care of me earlier, you don’t need to—”

“Sarah,” Jareth half-snapped, in that imposing yet ridiculously sexy tone of his.

‘Don’t defy me,’ she supplied in her mind.

“I do not care what sort of meager standards Aboveground men have; you are coming with me,” he demanded—stated, more like it, as though it was concrete fact.

As though to solidify his point, Jareth dove his head between her thighs again and gave her swollen clit a good hard suck, and Sarah was pretty sure the world had crumbled just like all those years ago. It didn’t take long before she was digging her nails into his skin, scrabbling to pull him up and moaning a string of near incoherent words.

“Fuck, come back, I’m close, Jareth, I’m gonna…”

At the accidental drop of his name he moaned like she’d touched his soul, hauling her upright into his lap and impaling himself on her again. She clung to him for dear life as he pounded into her, hands leaving finger-shaped bruises on her hips to match the ones she was making on his shoulders. His name fell from her lips in a litany as she ratcheted higher and higher, and he answered her with an earth-shattering little moan every time. One of his hands fumbled between them to play with her clit again, bringing her closer to the edge, but she was still a step behind him.

Despite his efforts she was able to watch him shatter beautifully underneath her, mouth open like he was stunned at how good it felt. His thrusts stuttered but didn’t stop, even as he spilled inside her, and another firm press to her swollen clit was enough for her to fall after him. The force of her second orgasm knocked the breath out of her—although Sarah could hear herself crying out loud enough to make her own ears ache—and for a moment her mind clouded with unawareness, something like a fainting spell, until she reawakened and found herself being caught and cradled by the Goblin King.