Archive of Our Own

Wake up sleeper, awake

You're in and out of a slumber

Feel the light on your face.

- Wildwood Kin, Wake Up Sleeper

Sarah sat, staring into the flickering flames of the stone hearth. Her mind wandered, dreamlike, her thoughts nothing but soft, faded edges and memories like photographs left out in the sun. She could not tell how long she had been sitting there. There was very little sense of time at all. Not how fast it ebbed and flowed around her, and not her place within it.

Fingers brushed the column of her throat, and she followed the motion to the man now standing before her. Not a man, she thought. Sorcerer. And a little jolt of fear, like being pierced with a needle, stabbed through her and was gone. "Jareth," she breathed. Why would she be afraid of him?

He knelt before her, all grace and long, lean limbs, his smile devastating and magnetic. When he was here, everything came into sharper focus, as though a veil had been lifted from her eyes. "Good evening, precious. Did you miss me?"

"Yes," she said, for she had, hadn't she? Somewhere in the fog of memories and thoughts, there had been a thread of anticipation, vibrating like a struck bowstring. She reached for him, touching the corners of his lips where smile lines presented themselves. "Where were you?"

He nipped her thumb with his sharp teeth and rubbed his cheek against her open palm like a cat. "Out on affairs of state, I'm afraid. Dreadfully dull, precious, you would hate it." His eyes glimmered with mischief, and he leaned forward, bracketing her with his arms on either side of her chair, his face leaning close to hers. She sucked in a breath, warmth and desire flaring deep within her. "Will you play a game with me?"

A smile curved her lips. "You do enjoy your competitions."

"They add spice to the centuries. What say you, love? Should I let you out?"

She furrowed her brow, confused. "What do you mean?"

He tilted his head, then leaned forward and brushed his mouth against her forehead. Even that minor touch was dazzling, sweeping her through with passions that were as wild as they were familiar. She reached for him, but he pulled away from her before she could make contact, rising and stepping back. "I think it's time for the dreamer to awake." He smiled again.

Jareth summoned a crystal sphere, deftly maneuvering it, and she found herself captivated by the sight, eyes following the orb as he weaved it between one hand and the next. She laughed in delight, clapping her hands before her, and his eyes were warm as he gazed at her, though there still remained that mischievous twinkle.

He stepped closer to her, crystal still moving in mesmerizing patterns. Then he presented it to her, in much the same gesture as he had during their final interaction in the Labyrinth, those many years ago.

She blinked.

The Labyrinth.

Sarah leaped from her chair, practically flying off it as she put it between her and Jareth. He started laughing, the sound rich and low. "Oh, precious, you never disappoint."

Her heart was like the frantic galloping of a horse's hooves. She shook her head, clearing the remnants of the fog-like dreamscape she had been stuck in, and narrowed her eyes at the Goblin King. "How long have I been like that?"

"Now, now, don't spoil the fun."

"How long?" The words left her as a shrill shriek. She gripped the back of the chair, pulse racing, her chest heaving.

"Calm down, precious. You're going to strain yourself." The crystal disappeared with a pop like a soap bubble, and magic peppered her skin, making the hair on her arms stand on end. He canted his head to the side. "Shall we play a game?"

"I'm not going to do anything with you, you sick fuck," she snarled. "I remember what you did. What you made me say. Then you, what? Put me under an enchantment?"

"Enchantment," he clicked his tongue. "I would never use something so simple on you, sweet Sarah mine."

"I'm not yours," she snapped.

He only smiled and began pacing toward her.

Sarah glanced around, panicked, but the room they were in, though large, did not seem to contain any exits. She searched frantically for a window or a doorway but found nothing aside from walls lined with shelves. Memory flared, and she realized where she was, gaze landing on the enormous bed which took up the center of the room. Then she heard the scuff of boot against wooden floorboards, and she jerked away just as Jareth reached for her, stumbling back and tripping over her long skirts. She lost her balance, arms windmilling as she frantically tried to keep herself from falling, but she crashed to the floor regardless.

The Goblin King made a noise of disapproval. "That'll never do, Sarah."

She scrabbled backward, getting her feet under her, only to go down to her knees once more as she stepped on the silk of her dress. Letting out a small scream of frustration, Sarah reached down and ripped the beautiful, gauzy fabric, shredding it and releasing her from the floor. But as she went to stand, a hand landed on her shoulder and looked up in horror to find Jareth standing above her, his eyes dark with knowledge and an unmistakable lust.

Sarah's body responded to what she saw there, and to her disgust, she found herself flooded with liquid heat. His lips quirked up in another sharp smile. "I think I rather like you on your knees, precious."

"To hell with you," she said, but her throat was so dry it came out as a rasp which could easily be mistaken for breathy desire. Another hand threaded fingers through her hair and did not let go when she tried to jerk away. She hissed, the pain making her eyes water and more need thrum through her. What the hell is wrong with me? She had asked herself the same thing the last time she remembered being here with him.

Sarah closed her eyes as memories of him filling her not once but twice played in her mind. An ache started between her thighs, muscles contracting around the space he had occupied. When he spoke, her eyes shot open, and she realized with a shock she had been leaning into his touch. "Your body knows me now." She tried to pull away again, but he held her fast. "Surrender to it, and I will give you what you crave."

Opening her mouth to tell him off, he tightened his grip minutely on her hair, and instead, a soft moan escaped her lips. She was close enough to him that she could see him thickening through the fabric of his tight leggings. Her eyes stayed fixed on the area, and a thrill ran through her as she remembered how the pleasure never ended, only grew stronger. It had been more than anything she had ever experienced before. Like nothing she could have imagined.

"Look at me."

She did, lifting her chin and trying not to show how he was affecting her. Her heart was still racing, but it was for an entirely different reason now. The ghost of how he had tasted danced along her tongue, and a widening part of her wanted to reach for him, too. "You're using magic on me."

"I'm not."

"You did."

"Yes," his brilliant smile was back. "And you loved it. Stand."

Hesitating for a moment, Sarah did as he bid, and his hands slipped from her. A not insignificant side of her cried out, wanting the touch back. She retreated, and he stayed put, amusement writ large across his face. "Let me go."

His mismatched eyes flashed with a fury so cold she took another step back. "Never." He began to pursue her. "We're going to play a game."

"I don't want to do anything with you."

"A lie," he prowled closer, and when she stepped back again, she hit one of the wooden posters around the bed. "You've wanted me for years. You said so yourself."

"That was a party, that was among friends, and that meant nothing. I didn't know you were there. I didn't know you would be listening." She was pleading by the end of it, her hands up as though to ward him off. "Please."

He did not slow or stop, did not acknowledge her raised hands or her voice, but reached for her, grasping her by the back of the neck and swooping his head down to kiss her.

Sarah expected it to be hard, bruising. Instead, his lips scraped against hers, the brush subtle and yet enough that her body began to respond. The hands she had raised to ward him off curled into fists, clutching the linen fabric of his shirt as he pressed closer, his hands at her waist. Jareth's tongue traced the seam of her lips, and they parted for him as though they always would. Her eyes squeezed shut as he swept into her mouth, tasting her. Sarah shoved her fists against his chest, but he was immovable, one hand sliding up to cup her breast through the thin fabric of the dress. Her back bowed, and the hard press of his cock bored down on her belly.

Jareth growled in the back of his throat, his hand tightening over her nipple, causing her to gasp into their kiss. "This first, I think," he whispered, breaking away from her. "You want me, don't you precious?"

Her lips throbbed in time with her pulse, which raced. "Will you let me go?"

"You know I won't. Deep down, you know."

She did. Her stomach twisted while desire continued to flame high within her. Realizing she had been grinding her hips toward him, chasing that delicious friction, she stopped, color rushing to her cheeks. "I wish I could be home right now," she said in a burst of inspiration.

For a heart-stopping moment, she thought she had done it. Jareth's expression darkened, magic rose in the air, and his hands fell from her. "Where do you think you are?" He asked, his voice dangerous and low. "You are home."

She shook her head, throat tightening. The power in the air began to dissipate. "No," she croaked. "I'm not."

"This is more of a home to you than the human world ever was," he said. "You didn't belong with them, Sarah mine. You belong to me. You've always belonged to me." He reached for her again, caressing her cheek with a gloved hand. She shivered, and he smiled. "You are mine. You said the words yourself."

"While you were using magic against me," she said. "That shouldn't count. It's not—"

Before she could finish, his lips crashed against hers, and she let out a muffled sound of protest even as his tongue was sliding against hers, and his hand reached down to the apex of her thighs, grasping her through the thin fabric.

Sarah pushed on his chest as she mewed into his mouth, arching against the pressure his hand put on her. Her body was a war zone of conflicting desires. The need to push him away, yet pull him closer. Wanting more, and wanting it all to end. As the punishing kiss continued, she groaned, nails scraping against his neck as she shook, overcome.

He broke away from her, nuzzling at her and whispering against her heated skin. "You know you want to feel me inside you again. Don't you?"

She did. She squeezed her thighs together, trapping his fingers, and gasped as he crooked them up toward her center. Visions of him tearing her clothes off or magicking them away flashed through her mind, images of him taking her up against the post, or on the floor, or bent over the bed. How often had she dreamed of it? Waking up soaked, alone in the dark, cold mornings. But here he was, hot and hard and wanting her in a way which made her head spin. The word left her, blown out on a gasp as he ducked his head and took her peaked nipple in his mouth, soaking the fabric. "Yes."

He growled, there was the scent of magic in the air, and her tattered dress was gone, and she was naked. She cried out in shock as the barrier between his fingers and her slick entrance disappeared, and he slipped inside of her without a whisper of resistance. "Remember that word, Sarah," he said, voice dark and low. He whispered against her ear, "I am your slave."

Sarah rode the hand still working her, clutching his shoulders as her knees weakened. "Wait—"

"What for?" He nipped her earlobe and grasped one of her hands, pulling it down to the thick bulge between his legs. She grabbed him automatically, and he hissed out a breath. "Undress me, Sarah."

Her head was swimming, pleasure building, and she found her hands working to pull off his clothes, fumbling with the unfamiliar laces and clasps but finding her way as his thumb began circling her clit, making her gasp. She tugged off his gloves, throwing them to the floor before pulling his shirt over his head. Sarah sucked in a breath at the sight of him. Lean but with a play of muscles beneath his pale skin, with his wild hair and dark mismatched eyes, he looked every inch the powerful creature he was.

And he wants me. She could see it in his eyes as he stepped up to her again, and in the way he strained through the thin fabric of his leggings. A part of her flooded with a certain smug satisfaction, knowing she could have this effect on him. She touched him through the cloth and smiled a little as he bared his teeth, head tilted down to watch her movements. What would be the harm? She could sleep with him and sneak out later. Find a way once he let his guard down. But for now...

She hooked her fingers in the band of his pants and tugged them down as she sank to her knees in front of him. His boots were already gone, so when she finished, he stood utterly nude before her, his only adornment the ever-present pendant which swayed near the center of his chest.

The very core of her throbbed as she reached for him and sucked his thick head into her mouth. Jareth made a strangled sound, and his hands flew to her hair as she began bobbing down on his shaft, taking him as far as she could before withdrawing, her tongue moving over him the whole while. There was the faint tang of salt to his skin and something else which made her moan as she continued to blow him. She wrapped one hand around the base of him, pumping in time to her movements, and slid the other down her belly, circling her clit with two fingers.

"That's it," he breathed. "Gods, you feel good." She hummed around him, tempo speeding up as she brought herself higher as well, rubbing over and over against her slick, swollen nub. She began to moan as the climax built within her, and his hips thrust forward at the same time. They found a matching rhythm. Her hand stroking him, her mouth hot and wet, him pushing into her, and her touch on her clit. She rolled her eyes up to look at him and saw his head thrown back, sounds of pleasure falling from his lips. This sent her crashing over the edge, and she cried out, bucking against her own hand and sucking harder on his cock.

Fingers tangled in her hair, he whispered her name and let out a low cry, going still as he emptied himself in her. Though she had never done it before, she swallowed him down greedily, as though she had been anticipating this moment. He slipped out of her and grasped her under the arms, pulling her to her feet. She stood shakily, buzzed from the orgasm and from doing something so delicious with him, the Goblin King.

He kissed her and moved them so the back of her knees bumped against the bed. He pushed her backward, following her as she fell on the mattress, never breaking the kiss, his tongue tasting and exploring once more. As he leaned over her, he stood still hard and hot between them. She spread her legs, and he settled between them as though he had been made to fit there, his cock rubbing gently against her slickness.

Jareth pulled away, grasping her by the thighs and tugging her to the very edge of the bed. It was the perfect height, which he demonstrated in a gradual, confident thrust, filling her to the brim and making her legs tremble from where they circled his waist. She gripped the blankets beneath her body, mouth falling open as he pulled out by just a little and back in, hard. He went still, and his eyes found hers, his body locked with her in the most intimate of embraces.

"Do you want this?" He pressed harder against her, and he was so large it stretched her to near her limit. She gasped and writhed, increasing the sensation.

"Jareth, please," she begged, biting her lip. A sliver of pride kept her from asking for it. He wants this just as much as I. Maybe more. Why did she have to be the only one to admit it?

He slid from her and slammed back in, ripping another gasp out of her throat. "Say it, Sarah," he growled, his grip near bruising. "Tell me what you want."

I want you to fuck me until I can't see straight, she thought. The sensation of him inside her was like nothing else she had ever experienced. She was so incredibly full, easing a craving which turned parts of her into a puddle of pure need. Making a sound of frustration when he continued to be still, she met his gaze. "You want me to tell you what I want?"

"Yes," he hissed, flexing, muscles cording along his arms and shoulders.

She rotated her hips, whispering, "You know what I want."

A hand slithered down, and then his thumb was rubbing against her swollen nub. She mewed and reached for him, fingernails scraping the skin of his forearms. "Why do you fight me?" He growled. "You always fight this, but you're only fooling yourself." He began to thrust, the motions so slow they were like delicious torture. Sarah whimpered, legs tightening around him as he dragged himself out and into her over and over. She could smell herself, her arousal a tang on the air. That, mixed with the still-lingering, heady taste of him, made her building orgasm begin to race to the finish line.

But just as she was about to crest, Jareth pulled out of her and removed his hand, depriving her of both sensations at once. She let out a frustrated cry, head snapping up as she rose onto her elbows. "What are you doing?"

"Proving a point," he said, leaning down and nuzzling against her neck, giving her a nip. "We're going to play a game."

"I don't want to," she said. "I want to fuck, not play." As soon the words left her mouth, she regretted them, not least because of the satisfied look he gave her. "You still haven't played fair."

"And you would know, wouldn't you, precious? You can never go home."

She blinked, and some of her ardor cooled. "What?"

"It is my first statement. I'm going to tell you three things. You can ask three questions about each of the statements, and you have to guess which is a lie, and which two are truths." His sharp teeth grazed her collarbone, and she shivered. "If you win, you get a gift."

"What gift?"

He shifted, pressing his chest against hers. "You may ask a boon."

"What's that?"

Jareth lifted his head, and his hair swung forward, tickling along her skin. "A very valuable possession. Do you want it?"

"Can I use it to go home?"

He reached between them and ran a finger through her slick folds. "You are home." He flashed her a wicked smile. "That was my second statement."

You can never go home. You are home. She shivered and then gasped as he lined himself up and plunged into her once more. When he was in her, it was as though oxygen left the room. She reached for him blindly, neck bowed as her eyes rolled shut. Slender fingers laced with hers and gripped as he began a punishing rhythm. He stretched her arms above her head, pinning her down, and buried his face against her throat.

"Mine," he whispered, his breath hot against her flesh. "You're mine, Sarah."

His hipbones dug into the softness of her thighs. "I'm not," she panted back. "I don't belong to you."

Jareth laughed, low and seductive, and pulled out of her. Her protest was swallowed up by his mouth on hers, and then he was lifting her, settling her into his lap as he stretched out in the center of the bed. Pulling back from the kiss, his eyes dancing with mirth, he tilted his chin up to her. "Ask a question. I know you want to."

Sarah slid her thighs to either side of his hips. "What's your third statement?"

He frowned at her and hissed as she reached down and grasped his stiff cock. Slick with her juices, Sarah found it easy to begin stroking him, gripping him tight enough it rode the edge of pain and pleasure. Jareth's eyes burned. "I love you. Ah!" He held a finger to her lips. "Don't be too hasty in your answer. Remember, you can ask three questions each."

Sarah, who had never stopped in her movements, rose up and sank down on him, breath leaving her in a sigh as she did. Jareth's hand trailed from near her mouth to her chest, squeezing her breast and rolling the peaked nipple between his clever fingers while she rode him.

She was losing herself to the motion, to the delicious friction of his body going into hers, when he grasped her waist, holding her still while he pounded up into her. Mouth falling open, Sarah's nails dug into his chest as she cried out in shock and pleasure. The air was thick with the scent and the sound of them together. And though a part of her still screamed this was wrong, that she should never have allowed the first kiss, more and more she simply surrendered to the moment. For now, she could be here. She could experience this ecstasy. There was no reason to end it too soon. Not when she would have to be tricky about her escape.

Jareth growled, "Look at me."

She did, eyes snapping open to lock gazes with him. As she did, he lost it, slamming into her so fast and hard she feared she might split apart. And still, the sensation of him was not too much. She tried to match him, but he held her tight, which tilted her over the edge. His possessiveness, his single-minded determination to be within her as much as possible, and the heady rush of his desire for her all collided with the delicious sensations whipping through her with every thrust.

Eyes still on his, Sarah let out a small scream as the orgasm hit her, a fresh wave of moisture coating him as her muscles bore down, milking him for a few moments before he shuddered and went still within her. Heart pounding and gasping for breath, Sarah almost fell over when, after a pause, he slowly started fucking her again.

"Wait," she stammered, clutching at his chest as his strokes lengthened. He had let go of her waist, but when she tried to raise off him, he grasped her again, tugging her down on his erection. "Don't you ever stop?" she gasped.

"Of course," he said, his voice a tad gruff but otherwise nonplussed. "But not yet."

Jareth rolled them, so she was beneath him, never breaking from her as he did. She closed her eyes as he continued his movements, and soon his lips were on hers, and without waiting for his probing tongue, she opened for him, and he moaned as he deepened the kiss, the strokes of his tongue echoing what he did with his hips.

Sarah felt as though she were made of a gigantic nerve. As Jareth's hand found her breast, stroking and squeezing, his magic washed out of him and into her, sending her pleasure so high that she nearly choked, her heart rate ticking up once more. She broke the kiss, swearing, eyes snapping open as his tempo increased to a speed which had her pinned hard against the mattress.

"Jareth!" she cried, hips angling up to increase the depth and friction. She reached down and started to rub herself, the motion reverberating through the magic still coursing through her, causing a feedback loop of longing and almost painful ecstasy. Her back arched, the peaks of her nipples brushing his chest, and the burning scrape of the points of his talisman against her ribs. Still stroking herself, she gripped the back of his neck with her other hand and pulled him down, and this time it was her kissing him. His smile faded quickly as her tongue danced with his, and his rhythm picked up more.

She shattered.

She could think of no other way to put it. One moment she was within her body, and the next, she was in fragments, each of them experiencing the roll of orgasm the likes of which she'd never encountered before. Distantly, as though it were happening on a film or movie, Jareth's mouth descended upon her neck and his teeth bit into her flesh. Not enough to draw blood, but just shy. It brought her crashing back into herself, her entire body trembling as he slammed into her twice more, hard, and went rigid, pulling back so his eyes could drink her in as he twitched within her, emptying himself.

The magic withdrew, and cool air entered the room when it did. She licked her lips. "If you keep going, I'm going to pass out."

He chuckled and pulled out of her. He was not soft, but he was no longer standing at stark attention as he once had been. She almost wanted to reach for him, to feel how the shape and weight of it might have changed, but she knew if she did such a thing he would fall upon her again. And she did not know if she could take another round just yet. "Coward," he said, his voice holding a teasing edge.

Something fluttered near her stomach, and Sarah rolled away, suddenly uncomfortable. She did not like the ease with which he talked to her. The sense of the familiar. She sat up but could tell by how her legs trembled that she would not be able to stand. Not in any graceful way, this was. And she would not give him the satisfaction of seeing how much he had affected her.

An arm slithered around her waist and pulled her back against his hard chest. His lips were on her shoulder a moment later, kissing his way up to her neck until he could whisper in her ear, "You still haven't asked a question."

You can never go home. You are home. I love you. "One of them is a lie, and the other two are truths?"

"That's how the game works precious. You taught me this one yourself."

Sarah frowned. "I did not."

Jareth laughed, and the sound made things low in her stomach clench. She was still throbbing and sore, but this only magnified the desire. When she tried to pull away, to slide to the edge of the bed, his arm tightened around her waist. For all that he was slender as men went, he was also incredibly strong. She could feel the power in him and knew she was significantly outmatched if he came to a physical altercation.

She started with the simplest question. "Why can't I go home?"

"Because it no longer exists." He nuzzled her neck and laid a kiss against the spot which still stung from where he had bitten her. She pulled away, and he chuckled. "Ask another."

"That wasn't much of an answer," she snapped, folding her arms over her chest. "You need to go into more detail."

"No, I don't," he said. "Ask another."

She scowled. "Why doesn't it exist any longer?"

His smile was cutting, and he reached for her again, smoothing a hand along her belly. Licks of magic tickled her skin, and goosebumps rose across her arms and spread, a flush infusing her chest.

What is wrong with me? She wondered again. She could not deny the draw, the pull she had toward him. It was a hunger which frightened her.

His next words were like being slammed with an icy ocean wave. "Because it has been two hundred years since the party, Sarah. You've been with me for two centuries."

She withdrew again, pulling away from his touch just as he shifted toward her. "That's not funny."

Jareth leaned back and ran a hand through his hair. "I was not under the impression we were jesting with one another, precious."

She frowned and turned her head away, thoughts spinning. Looking around the room, it was the same as what she remembered from the last time she had been here with him. The enormous fireplace, the walls of shelves upon shelves of books. A doorway out to a balcony overlooking the Labyrinth itself, which seemed to have only recently appeared. The grand maze was awash in moonlight, and there were no other exits. "That's impossible." She looked down at herself. "I haven't aged. I haven't changed at all since I last remember."

Jareth looked down his nose at her, his eyes glittering as a smile quirking his lips. "Why, however could that be?" he asked innocently.

Breath catching, Sarah began to rise, but her legs were still too wobbly, and she fell back on the bed in a graceless heap.

The Goblin King threw back his head and laughed, delight writ large across his face. "I do so love when you realize the truth. The shock..." he licked his lips and grinned. "Delicious."

His words reverberated through her head. You can never go home. It was not just a world away. It was lost to time. Would her parent's house still be standing? "Two hundred years? You kept me under a spell for two hundred years?" Her voice rose high.

"Of course not. How dull. No, I let you out to play all the time. Sometimes for years." His expression darkened. "You have made a fool of me too often, however, my precious thing. I will not make the same mistakes again."

Sarah shook her head. "I don't understand."

He merely smiled at her. "Ask your last question."

"What," she stammered, gripping one of the wooden posts bracketing the bed for support. She bit her lip, thinking. "What have I been doing for two hundred years?"

His smile widened to a grin, and he gestured between them, silent.

"I've been fucking you for two centuries? That's it?" She scoffed.

"You're out of questions for the first statement, Sarah precious. Move on."

She wanted to scream at him, frustration welling from deep within her. Maybe this was the lie, she thought. There were two other statements. You are home. I love you. "You said you loved me. Why?"

"Because you belong to me, and because no one before or since has conquered my Labyrinth. It has only ever been you." Genuine warmth infused his words, but she still jumped when his long, slender fingers squeezed her thigh.

"That's just something I've done. It's not who I am."

"You always say that." His hand crept higher and started to drift. "And I still don't know what you mean by it. Are we not made up of our actions? I have come to the conclusion this is a silly affectation, a remnant of your mortal life." His fingers feathered at her still-soaked entrance, and her lips parted in a gasp which made him smile more. "Come here."

She was moving before she could question herself, letting go of the post and sliding closer to him. Before she could pull back again or hesitate, he gripped her around the waist and rolled her beneath him, his mouth coming down hot on hers. Kissing him took her breath away, the issue compounded as he slid a knee between her thighs, parting them, before setting himself between her legs. "Wait—" she started.

He thrust forward, piercing her, and she let out a cry of shock at being so suddenly filled. Her heart rate began to tick up, and she gasped as he moved, a low growl emanating from his throat. "Ask your questions," he murmured, face buried against the side of her neck as he slowly fucked her.

His pace was torturously slow, and she was already sore from earlier. Yet she found her legs falling open further, giving him greater access. He grunted and thrust deeper, hand grasping her hip as he began a punishing rhythm which had small noises bubbling up from within her. Sarah's head swam as she tried to concentrate on his whispered command. Ask your questions. He said he loved her. Told it was because she was the champion of his Labyrinth. "Have you—" she gasped, then moaned as his hand slipped from her hip to massage her clit.

Jareth chuckled, not ceasing in his movements as his head lifted to watch her, his hair swinging forward like a gauzy curtain to partly obscure the room. "Whatever is the matter, sweet Sarah?"

He sounded just fine, and this annoyed her. Swallowing the sounds she wanted to make, she asked in a steady voice, "Have you ever loved someone else?"

"Jealous?" he asked with a sneer. Then he shook his head, hips still keeping up their careful rhythm. She bore down, squeezing him with her inner walls, which left her panting, the sensation of him suddenly magnified. "No, precious. Only my family. None like you."

The last words had a breathy quality to them, and Sarah's lips tugged up in a faint, triumphant smile. He swore, his thumb quickening in its movements and bringing her crashing over the edge just as he shuddered and went still, calling her name as his eyes sliding closed in bliss. You want me, she thought with a degree of pride, reaching up to run her hands along his arms and rake her fingernails down his chest. Red marks rose and faded before her eyes, his skin remaining unblemished. She watched with fascination and asked her third question. "What do you want in return?"

His mismatched eyes opened, and he looked down at her. She must look a sight, her hair tangled and her dewy flesh flushed, but the words which fell from his lips were, "You are beautiful."

She blinked and withdrew her hands, noticing how they trembled. "That didn't answer my question."

He laughed and pulled out of her. Sarah tried not to think about how empty it made her feel or how much she wanted it back. "What do I want in return for loving you?" Sliding from the bed, he strode naked across the room. Hands on his hips, she watched him scan the spines of the books lining the shelves until he found the one he was looking for and pulled it from the others. She sat up as he came back to the bed and handed it to her.

Sarah's fingertips smoothed over the buttery soft leather exterior. An engraving of an extravagant J was wrought in the center of the book cover. "What is this?"

"Proof." He stood before her, leaning down to run his hands along her arms and down her chest to her stomach. Spreading out from everywhere he touched was the sensation she had just emerged from a long bath. Her skin turned silky soft, and her tense muscles relaxed. Jareth shot her a sly smile. "Go ahead, read it."

She flushed, embarrassed to have been so caught up in the touch of his magic she had forgotten the book in her hand. Spreading the pages open, Sarah choked back a gasp when Jareth's fingertips lightly grazed the crease of her sex. Her gaze snapped to his, and his smile was sensuous. "You never stop, do you?"

"No," he agreed, tone mild. "I don't suppose I do." His fingers slid inside her just as her legs fell apart, and he pulled the book away as he grasped the back of her neck, pulling her in for a kiss. Magic flared where he crooked his digits within her, and Sarah's soreness disappeared. What replaced it was a flash of desire so strong her back bowed, and she rolled over him, mouth devouring his while her hands sought out his erection. He made a noise of amusement, and she nipped his lower lip, annoyed. "So needy, precious," he whispered. "Who can't stop?"

"Shut up," she hissed as she lined him up and sank onto him. Gripping his shoulders, she used her legs and hips to begin moving against his hard length. Jareth gripped her ass, spreading her so the sensations magnified, especially as magic began to coil and curl, extending from where he touched her. "What's in the book?"

"Entries from when you ran my Labyrinth, or just after," he said, grunting a little as she slammed down. "I forget how energetic you are," he said on a breath, grazing his teeth along the column of her throat as she moaned, consumed with the feel of him and hardly hearing his words. "That's right, precious, take what you need from me."

"I don't need you," she panted.

"You do," he argued, smoothing hands up her stomach to cup her breasts. They were hot as he grasped her, fingers playing with her peaked nipples. She groaned, and his smile almost undid her. "You want me like I want you. It's like oxygen, precious, don't you see?"

Sarah shook her head. "No." She was just chasing this moment to its end. I won't spend the rest of my life wanting this creature, she said, but as she did, a part of her knew she was only trying to convince herself. Tears sprang to her eyes, and her rhythm fumbled, but Jareth was there like he had been waiting for his cue, driving up into her with a force which left her shaking and clinging to him. Molten liquid fell in tracks along her cheeks as she buried her face against his neck, the soft strands of silver hair tickling her skin. She opened her mouth without thinking and closed it down around where his pulse jumped, teeth digging into flesh.

Jareth cried out, and his tempo increased for a moment before he was slamming into her a few last shuddering times before going rigid, his fingers bruising against her hips.

Sarah kept her hold on his neck the whole time. She had not had an orgasm, but something else had passed between them. Something which spoke to a permanence she could not look in the face. Shaking, she pulled back, his face suddenly too close. Too close and too open, his eyes like cut gems, the facets flashing. His hands feathered up her sides, and he was cradling her face in his hands, holding her as though she really were the most precious thing in the world. "I want you to love me back."

She blinked. "What?"

"That's what is written in the journal. It is the proof I would show you. More than devotion or fear, I want you to love me in return. I want this flame consuming you alongside me." His thumbs brushed circles along her cheeks, and his expression turned sad. "But I can't trust you, can I?"

Sarah frowned. "What—"

He stopped her with a finger to her lips. "That was your final answer for the second statement. Now it's time for the last." His eyes danced with merriment. "Or you could forfeit."

"What happens if I forfeit?"

He grinned. "Do it and find out."

Sarah closed her eyes, turning her face away from that of the Goblin King. She slid off him while she did so, opening her eyes just enough to avoid making a fool out of herself as she rolled back on the bed. Legs shaking and, at the same time, feeling strangely heavy. She lay on her back, staring up at a ceiling of carved wood done in a mesmerizing geometric pattern. She was finding it difficult to hold on to any singular thought stream. She needed to find a way out of here, play his game, and resist the overwhelming desire to have Jareth inside of her as often as possible. Even now, less than a minute after she pulled herself off him, she ached, her insides throbbing in time to her pulse.

His fingertips grazed hers, dancing patterns along her still sensitive skin. "You are home," he prompted, raising her hand to lay a gentle kiss across her open palm. His eyes lifted as he did, a smile curling his lips up at the corners.

Sarah huffed and pulled her hand from his. "What makes this home?"

"You do. It may have been my castle before I brought you here, but you have made it into a home."

She frowned. "You mean the me you created? The one under a spell?"

"It's still you, my dear, just without all this pesky stubbornness and pride." He gripped her thigh possessively. "I would be satisfied with nothing less."

"That doesn't make any sense," she said, her voice coming out breathy as his thumbs traced circles against her flesh. "If you take away parts of me, then that's no longer me. You don't get to pick and choose the pieces of a person you want, Jareth. Humans are not paper dolls to dress up as you wish."

His eyes flashed again. Like gemstones. Hard and cold. "Yet you would only see one side of me when you look upon me with those cruel eyes of yours." His hand slid up, slipping into her still dripping sex. Eyes locked on hers, he plunged two fingers into her aching passage, made slick by his own release as well as her still-mounting desire. "Your villain," he hissed, crooking up so his touch rubbed just so.

Sarah's legs fell open, and he took it as the invitation it was, sheathing himself within her with a swiftness which took her breath away. This time there was something different in his rhythm. Flesh against flesh, she could feel just as much as hear his silent reproach. See me. See me. See me. She shut her eyes, squeezed them closed, and turned her head to the side as his mouth descended hot and sharp upon her neck. The orgasm which tore through her pulled her asunder, her pulse wild and fingernails frantically scrabbling at his back and shoulders. She heard his grunt of pain and slick blood slipped beneath her fingertips. She marveled at that. She had hurt him. Him.

But if she had thought this would deter him, it instead only intensified his attentions. His tongue lathed at the bite he had delivered along her throat, soothing the inflamed skin and causing her to tremble.

When he came, he did so while kissing her, his mouth a gentle pressure against her own, and he clutched her tight. Opening her eyes, at last, Sarah pulled her hand away from his back and marveled at the burgundy colored blood tinging her fingers. Without conscious thought, she brought her hand to her mouth, but he caught it, sucking her clean, eyes fixed on her the whole while. When he finished, he bent down and pressed his lips against hers. She tasted him. Not copper or salt like human blood, but heady and sweet as mulled wine.

He pulled away, and his eyes shined with something she trembled to identify. Wonder. "Blood of my blood. One flesh. I am yours, Sarah Williams."

"Tell me what this means."

"It means that, despite your protest to the contrary, when you are under my weaving, you are still you. And you are growing to love me, my precious thing. I know you are." His tone was wistful. "Soon, beloved, you may stay with me forever." His look darkened. "But not yet."

She shoved him off her, though a part of her longed to cling to him, to beg him. For exactly what, she wasn't yet sure. There was much she did not understand, but if she were following his answers and enigmatic statements, he was planning to put her under the spell again. "Don't touch me," she said as he reached for her, scooting back so her shoulder blades hit one of the posts around the bed. "You say this is my home. Why do you keep me here?"

"You should know the answer," he said, kneeling on the bed, his cock finally losing some of its girth, settling between his spread thighs.

"Tell me anyway," she said, dragging her gaze away. Gods, I have to stop. I'll have him fucking me into eternity with the rate we're going. "I tire of this game."

"One more question after this, Sarah mine, and one more answer. But first, you ask why I keep you here. What makes you think it is I doing the keeping? You keep yourself here. You'll never leave."

Her breath caught. "That can't be true."

"But it is."

She asked the only question left to her. "Why?"

Jareth's head tilted to the side, and at that moment, he looked every inch the predator she feared lurked within him. The part of him which stalked toward her in the tunnels beneath the Labyrinth, and the one she had pursued during the long-ago ball, captivated by the feral beauty she saw in his face. His smile was sharp and cutting. Vulpine. "Why? Because of the children, of course."

Her heart crashed against her ribs, and she thrummed as though she had been shocked, her entire body jolting at his words.

Before she could say anything, do anything, Jareth snapped his fingers. She was clothed, all of a sudden, her skin silken and clean, her sex similarly fresh though it still throbbed swollen and raw from the intensity of his affections. The bites to her shoulders and neck throbbed in time with her pulse. Yet there was the sense of silk around her body, encasing her legs in emerald green pants and a matching robe belted at the waist. He was similarly dressed, and though the blood-red cloth which covered him shimmered like silk, she thought it was not. It was too fine, she decided, rubbing it between thumb and forefinger with an absentmindedness which belied the tumult of her mind.

"Now, precious," Jareth said, stretching out on his side, the robe gaping to expose his pale, hairless chest and the heavy pendant resting there. "Tell me. Which two were the truths, and which was the lie? You have one guess."

Sarah chewed on her bottom lip, thinking. Her heartbeat thrummed the same word through her bloodstream. Children, children, children. Could it be? Could she have borne him sons and daughters while she was under the spell? If it were also true she had been here two hundred years, it stood to reason. It was more than possible. He had brushed her belly, after all, after their first time. He had said they would have their own family soon enough. Said it like a promise.

Which left the third. He loved her. But as she gazed at him, she knew with a sinking sensation in her stomach that it was true. He did love her. She could see it in the set of his face, as though she had stared upon it for years and memorized every inch. And there was a faint sensation, like the brush of a wingtip, which sent gooseflesh across her skin, making her see that she might feel the same in return.

And then she realized.

"None of them."

He blinked, his body going quite still. "Excuse me?"

"None of them are lies. You told me nothing but truths, didn't you?" Her voice began to shake. "I really am two hundred years from the party, aren't I? And this is home and you—you love me."

A slow smile, like the sun breaking across the horizon. "Clever girl."

A sob wrenched her throat, and Sarah pressed the back of her hand to her mouth. Her lungs heaved, and she soon clutched her legs to her chest, taking solace in herself as she closed her eyes and lay her forehead against her knees. In the comforting dark of her own body, hearing nothing but the ragged sound of her own breathing and the beat of her heart, Sarah cried. She cried until she was well wrung out, hugging her folded up legs and painfully aware of the absence of his touch.

"It's not fair," she whispered, and knew he could hear her. "You said we were playing two truths and a lie. You lied."

"Ah," he said, sounding proud. "There it is."

She lifted her head, eyes red-rimmed. "You love me. Why would you be so—"

"Cruel?" he finished, his beauty too much for her to look at. She glanced away. "You like me cruel, sweet Sarah. It's how you've always wanted me. Ever since you first imagined a villain to your heroine. You helped shape me into what I am. Wouldn't you have been disappointed if I had not attempted to trick you?"

She bit her lip, and a wave of grief rolled over her. "Toby—"

"Tobias Williams went on to lead a long and successful life. He died four days shy of his one-hundredth birthday, surrounded by his beloved family. He was never aware he had a sister to miss. No one is. You belong here, with me, and so it has always been according to the mortals in the above."

"I hate you," she hissed through clenched teeth.

"You don't," he argued. "You may not love me yet, Sarah, but you do not hate me."

A wave of exhaustion crashed over her, and Sarah wished for her bedroom, for the comfort of her belongings and the coolness of a solitary bed. It was hot in here. Too hot. And her heart would not stop pounding.

"Breathe," he murmured, suddenly at her side, hand on her back. She had not seen him move. She sucked in a breath on command, but it felt shallow. Paltry. "Breathe," he ordered again, his voice broking no argument. She took a breath, and another, her heart rate beginning to slow as he rubbed circles along her spine.

Sarah grabbed for him blindly, fumbling a little as her fingertips slid over the unfamiliar cloth, his skin warm and deliciously soft. "I don't forgive you," she whispered before pressing her mouth against his, swallowing the words he was about to say.

Jareth seemed amused more than anything at first, but as she grasped him through the thin fabric, he began a low growl which ended with her flipped onto her belly. Sarah cried out, pushing up on her elbows. He pressed a hand between her shoulder blades to keep her pinned in place as he yanked her pants down just enough to expose her, the air hitting her flesh a moment before he shoved himself between her legs, entering her in a single thrust that made her whimper and bury her face into the covers.

He fucked her. Held her down and had his way with her, his panting cry a strange sort of satisfaction as he found his release within her. He lay over her, cheek pressed to cheek, still twitching with the aftershocks of his orgasm.

Sarah's entire body cried out with exhaustion and the ache of being so thoroughly used. Tears leaked in a steady stream from her eyes, and a pain lanced through her chest as she grasped the enormity of what this was. This was her life now. Him. The Labyrinth. Children she did not even know.

Dry lips brushed her cheek, drinking up her tears. He still jumped and spasmed within her, and she squeezed down around him. "Careful, love, or I'll have you again," he whispered.

"Please," she said weakly, knowing it was hopeless but speaking the words anyway. "Let me go."

"You don't want that," he murmured, nuzzling against the long sheet of her dark hair. "And where would you go, hm? You would not recognize the world above." He withdrew, and she reached down to pull her pants back on. He chuckled. "You may ask of me many things, sweet Sarah, but not that I release you. I will never. Now, you won our game. What would you have as your boon?"

"If I ask you never to put me under the spell again, would you do it?"

"No," he said. "Something else, Sarah."

She huffed, rolling to her side, back to the Goblin King. She was torn between two thoughts. She wanted her years back, her memories, and she wanted to meet them. The children. But she knew with a bone-deep certainty he might do one, but he would not do both. He might not allow either.

Fingers threaded through her hair, brushing it away from her face. Despite herself, she leaned into the sensation, and his laughter rang out rich and low. "If you would only admit this thing between us affects you as well as it does me. If only you stopped lying to yourself."

Sarah shut her eyes, but removing sight only magnified his touch. "Just because I want to have sex with you doesn't mean I love you," she said, as another side of her railed against the statement. He continued to pet her, saying nothing, and though her eyes remained closed, she could almost feel him smiling that self-satisfied smile of his. The one he had used when speaking about his Labyrinth. The same pride of ownership he possessed when talking about her. "I can't love someone who sees me as a possession," she said, more to herself than to him, her voice soft upon the warm air.

Jareth's motions faltered.

She took a deep breath. "Give me back my memories. That's what I want for my boon. Give me back the years you stole from me."

"I will only take them again," he murmured. "And soon. It would be a wasted boon."

She slipped from the bed, clutching the robe tight around her as she wavered on her feet, unused to standing. How long had they been going at it? It felt like it had been hours. Still, now, she wanted more of him. She glanced back, and his gaze met hers, a challenge in them. This was another one of his games, or a test. Turning her head away, Sarah went to the shelves and ran her hands over the spines of the leather books. They were written in a language she could not read, though it tickled at the edges of her thoughts. I probably do know how to read this, she thought. Only he's taken the knowledge away from me. What else had he done to her over these last two centuries?

"You're stalling," he called to her. "And your time grows short."

"Will you answer a question before I decide on my boon?"

"Perhaps," he acquiesced. "Ask, and we shall see."

Pivoting on the spot, Sarah beheld a creature who glowed molten gold about the edges, silhouetted against the roaring fire. "Why do you keep me under the spell? Don't you grow bored?"

"Sometimes," he admitted, smoothing a hand over the rumpled black covers. "But this is why you're out now, precious thing. I enjoy bringing you back to the moment you and I first came together. I may tire of this game one day, but not yet." Jewel-bright eyes flashed in the dimness of the room. Moonlight spilled through the open doorway to the balcony overshadowing the goblin city and the Labyrinth beyond, and the fire was the brightest thing there was. "Now. Your boon."

Sarah took a breath. "I want my memories."

"Even if they will be taken from you again?"

She nodded.

Jareth heaved a sigh. "Very well. I should not be surprised, after all this time, and yet..." he shrugged, then waved his hand.

And everything changed.

Years previous, in one of Sarah's introductory religions class, the instructor had spoken of the role of women in ancient cultures. How they were seen as vessels waiting to be filled.

Sarah inhaled, and before the breath did more than circulate in her lungs, she could feel the impact of it. The extreme weight, the immense pressure, of years.

There was a sharp, reverberating pain, and she realized, absently, she had crashed to her knees on the stone floor. But the memories. Oh, the memories...

Her skin was too tight. Her head too small. Images like movie reels of tangled limbs, of Jareth taking her in every way a man can take a woman. When he appeared before her, petting her hair, she sucked in a breath of renewed fear, knowing the look in his eyes. Knowing it as well as her own name.

Sarah Williams.

"No," she croaked, pulling away from his touch. "Not again. Please, Jareth, if you love me—"

"How often have you spoken those same words?" He asked, his voice soft and pleading.

Tears burned in her eyes as she recalled those other moments. Dozens of times, century after century, because she—"I won't do it again," she whispered. "I promise. Jareth, I promise I won't do it again. I'll stay, just leave me my memories. Don't put me under your weaving again." Those years and decades as the half-souled doll also lay in her mind, and she shifted through those years as though she were frantically digging through a sandbox in search of buried treasure. How she had lifted into her arms not just one but six children over these last two centuries. Their weight changed as time went on, their desire to be close to her waning as they gained independence, but she loved to hold them. To pet their hair—shades of sable and gold and a black as rich as her own—and press her nose into the top of their head, inhaling their clean child smell.

Her stomach twisted. Even as the hollowed version of herself, she loved her children deeply. More so now, as fragments came back to her of her grown son shouting at her, screaming. You're not my mother. My mother would never be so cruel. Her heart ached, for she wished that she could reach him, and she loved him so.

For she had tried to run. Not just once, but many times. Every time Jareth lifted the spellwork which bound away chunks of her spirit, she eventually turned against him. Attempted to flee the Labyrinth. Often with a child in tow, hoping to find a better life for them away from him, their father. And she remembered the stormy look on his face as she would turn a corner in the endless maze and smack right into him.

Even though she ran from him, even though she was aware she would probably try to run again with—

Matilda. Their youngest. She was only four now, but the rest of their children were grown. Grown and taken up with tasks in service to the goblin kingdom, and every one of them loved their mother but hated Sarah. Hated the selfish human who would attempt to rip their family apart.

I don't understand why you keep letting her out, her eldest son, Elias, had shouted to Jareth one time after he had dragged her back from her latest escape. She's not my mother. Your obsession with this woman is going to destroy our family.

"How many times, Sarah?" Jareth asked again.

She shook her head, unwilling to say the words, but he sank down to the floor in front of her, cradling her head in his hands. She tried to jerk away, knowing that look. Knowing what was coming. "No," she begged. "This is different. I have all my memories now, Jareth. I know how much they hate me, but if you just give me a chance, I'll—"

"Rip my heart out again," he finished softly. "You'll take Matilda and bolt. It might be weeks from now. It might be years, but you'll do it. You always do it."

The burning tears fell, streaming hot tracks down her cheeks which hit his thumbs. "Please," she whispered. "Please, Jareth. I love you. I know I do. You don't know how much it hurt to run from you all those times. It's only that you can't do this to people. Don't you see? If you do this again, I—I can't stand it. You don't know how it feels. It's like being ripped apart. A part of me is always screaming, Jareth, even as I smile at you, feed our children, and warm your bed. A part of me is always suffering. Is that what you want?"

"No," he admitted, leaning forward and brushing his lips against her forehead. "But that is why this will be the last time I grant you back all your memories. You can't mourn what you don't remember."

Fear shot through her like the hard edge of a blade. "No. No! Jareth, that's like dying. What are we, except our memories? You'll be killing me."

He let go of her face and grasped her hands, raising them to his mouth, so he could lay a gentle kiss against each palm. "Beloved," he murmured, eyes heavy-lidded and, she noted with shock, brimming with tears. "I can only hope you are wrong." He let go of her and rose, looking down with an expression of grief so raw she had to look away. "I love you," he said. "I will always love you."

Sarah opened her mouth, but the pleading words died on her lips as Jareth raised a hand and made a little twisting motion in mid-air, summoning a crystal he blew toward her like a soap bubble. She scrambled away, but it moved too quick, plunging straight for her. She drew in a breath to scream—

And exhaled a long sigh.

Her limbs fell heavy, and with a long blink, her gaze focused on the bare feet walking toward her. She followed the feet to ankles and legs swathed in shimmering red fabric, up across a half-bared chest, and into the face of her beloved. "Jareth," she breathed.

He leaned down, offering her a hand she graciously accepted, pulling her to her feet and further until she was curled against his body, her head resting on his shoulder as he held her close. She could smell magic and sex on his skin, and she lay a kiss against his heated flesh. He shuddered. "Precious," he said, and a strange pang shot through her heart. "Welcome back."

The sharp little pain burrowed deeper, and she frowned a little, even as her lips brushed the side of his neck. She could identify the sensation, but it made no sense.

Fear.

That's funny, she thought. Why should I be afraid?