Warning: Explicit lemons. Hopefully, that's what you are here for. If not, why the hell are you still reading this?

Chapter 3

Riding the wave of endorphins, Sarah stared at the empty tree in front of her. He's gone. Why is he gone? When did he go? Oh my god, what have I done? He must be disgusted.

Feeling the cold for the first time, Sarah folded the robe around herself. Trembling, robe doing little to deal with the chill in her breast, she pulled her legs up on the chaise and pushed back, intending to just lay back in the lounge and feel miserable.

And encountered a wall of flesh.

When lithe, pale arms wrapped around her, Sarah couldn't help it, she screamed and lashed out. Arms coming up, elbows thrusting back, she heard and felt a meaty thud.

A male voice yelled, "Fucking hell!"

Scrambling around, she caught the impression of wispy blonde hair, and realized who sat back against her lounge. It's him! He had one graceful hand lying on his chest, which was remarkably bare, presumably where she had elbowed him. Aqua blue eyes regarded her, mismatched irises almost balanced in the soft light. His face showed no emotion, still features seeming so unearthly, and his body seemed tense, as if poised to flee.

The second she really took in who was before her, she exclaimed "Jareth!" and wished her voice seemed less breathy as she said it. Clutching the lapels of her robe together, Sarah tried to remember she was a strong independent woman, and had no reason to be afraid.

Except you just did something. Something that crossed a line…

Remembering what she had just finished, Sarah blushed. She watched his eyes on her cheeks, taking in the rush of her blood, and his face seemed to melt in to a grin. It was almost feral.

"Hello Sarah." His voice was strong, rich, and melodic, and it had become so deeply ingrained in her fantasies that hearing it was jarring.

Sarah couldn't think. "Jareth… Jareth you're… here!"

He quirked a brow at her, "Well spotted."

His wit seemed to shake her, and she frowned. "Inside my flat! Where did you come from? I saw no billowing curtains or showers of glitter."

His whole body changed, going from tense to arrogantly self-assured, and he draped his arms across the back of the chair, dramatically casual. His pale chest was visible, and she noticed a small trail of blonde hair that started a bit below his belly button, and ended somewhere below extremely low slung, and gloriously tight, grey leather pants. "Your expectations, nothing more. I decided not to waste my time."

Brow pinched, she looked hard at him. "Oh yes, of course, make yourself at home."

His face lost a little of its cockiness, it seemed to turn serious and also… sensual. He leaned his body forward, placed a hand on either side of her legs, and brought his face close to hers.

"Sarah, you just came, gasping my name." His eyes were soft. "I didn't think about knocking."

The frown was long gone from her face, and she felt all her muscles go slack. They seemed simultaneously numb and tingly, and she knew her heart was starting its journey back up to desperate pounding.

"And what a glorious display it was." His eye's never wavered from her face, watching her like the bird of prey he was. One hand reached for the robe she had long since stopped clutching, and slowly pealed it aside, first the right and then the left side, exposing her full breasts, creamy in the moonlight.

When he touched her stomach, she trembled. His voice hypnotized her. "So beautiful. I couldn't look away, couldn't stop from coming here every night, just to see you. But I could never have imagined…"

His voice trailing away, his gaze shifted lower, and he pulled away the rest of the robe. He trailed a finger along her inner thighs where they were pressed together. "Sarah…" His voice was a caress.

"Yes?" Her voice was barely more than a gasp.

He met her eyes again, and they burned, lighting a fire in them both. "Show me. Show me again. I want to watch you up close." His voice was velvet.

The enormity of what she was about to do did clear the fog in her brain for a moment. She looked in him the eyes; he looked hungry, desperate. He licked his lips.

She didn't pause. She wanted to give him everything, so she would give him this. Lying down against the foot of the chaise, she barely fit, head almost falling off. It helped her nerve; she couldn't see him at all. Eyes closed, she brought her hands up to her breasts, feeling the fullness and weight in her hands, and she gripped her nipples lightly.

For all that she had just finished doing this, her body sang. He was right there. She felt his thigh resting against hers and could hear his shallow breath. This was a thousand times more intimate and thrilling than what she had just done. She trembled a bit as she lifted one leg over his, moving the other out to spread her legs. His breathing seemed to quicken.

When her fingers trailed down her body and between the valley of her thighs, she wished she could see him. Again, at that first touch to her bundle of nerves, she shuddered and marveled at the intensity of sensation.

When she felt him touch her knee, she started. Not wanting him to stop, she continued, wondering what he would do next. He seemed content to run his fingers over her skin in small circles, until his hand began a lazy trek up her inner thigh. Sarah barely breathed.

"Do you want this, my Sarah?" his voice hitched.

He was moving a finger at the seam of her thigh and pelvis, and she wondered if it was possible to die of lust. It was all of her consciousness and every bit of her logic that gasped, "Please, yes."

Thin, nimble fingers stroked the seam of her lips, and when she felt one finally slip between her slick flesh and enter her, she let go and moaned. It was a desperate, keen of a moan, and she felt a second finger enter her. When his thumb began light, tantalizing movements over her clit, Sarah lost her patience and moaned, "Jareth."

His fingers left her like lightning, and she was jerked up by her arms into a sitting position, legs still splayed wide across the cushion. Their faces came close to colliding, but he laced his fingers in to her hair, holding her face inches from his. His eyes were like a caress, the smell of him like summer and rain, and his thin lips looked full and perfect in the moonlight.

When their lips connected, Sarah lost herself. It was as if a dam had been released for both of them, and suddenly, nothing was enough. Their mouths clashed and melted and joined a thousand times, hands explored flesh, and she scooted closer to him, until he boldly gripped her waist and lifted her on to his lap.

His fingers danced a long her skin, trailing a path upwards. His palms ghosting over the tips of her breasts caused her to gasp for air. When he took them in to his hands fully, she looked him in the eye. He looked wild and undone, and she kissed him hard.

Time moved slowly and quickly, without reason or logic, and they pressed themselves together. Neither seemed rushed as they worshiped the other. She discovered the laces on his trousers came apart easily. He finally peeled the robe off her arms, and gripped the soft curve of her butt, crushing them closer.

They both reached a point when more was necessary when he had his fingers buried deep within her, and she had hers wrapped around the hard length of him. The chaise became awkward then, not quite long or wide enough to make things easy. Hitching her legs around his waist, he laid her back gently, making sure she stayed stable on the cushion.

Sarah looked up in to his eyes, traced the strong ling of his cheek, and felt her heart expand. He looked different that she remembered, missing all the capes and glitter, and he looked… perfect. He was otherworldly and exceptional; eyebrows pointed sharply upward and flyaway hair tickling her face, but no longer menacing and cruel. She could touch him, and she did, feeling his soft skin against hers.

His eyes locked on hers, a sweet smile on his face, and he simultaneously kissed her and entered her with his fingers. She writhed on his hands, desperate and wanton, and pressed her breasts up in to his chest.

"I've watched you Sarah, and wanted you. You… you are a match for me, Sarah."

Slowly building in tension, all she could think about was how much she wanted him. She brushed his hand away, gripping him firmly, and pulling him in to position. The tip of his length brushed her clit, making her cry out, and Jareth took control. She felt the piercing fullness as he penetrated her, thickness stretching her, shivers of sensation dancing through her body.

There was no comparison, all soft touches and questing fingers could never compare to this joining, this complete meshing of bodies. He moved within her, their foreheads touching, breaths gasping together. His hands cradled her head, and at every delicious hitch of his hips, she moaned.

Soon, he was on his hands towering over her, pelvis checking harder against hers, and they were spiraling higher, tension close to snapping. She watched him above her, the definition of her fantasies, slowly loosing control. His teeth were bared, body laboring, harsh guttural moans escaping him when he couldn't contain them. She watched him as she ignited, body keening, muscles clenching, electric sensation running through her veins, mind becoming still in pure ecstasy. She watched him cry out, face tilted upward, beautiful in the moonlight as he came.

He lay down on top of her, gripping her tight as deep shuddering breaths escaped them both. When they both breathed a little more normal he pulled them both up, wrapping his arms around her, moving them both in to the softness of the chaise's back. They seemed content to merely breathe and feel the others skin.

His voice broke the still peace. "I have a proposition."

She looked up at him and her eyebrow quirked, "That's dangerous territory with you."

He smiled, "I may have been… strict with my terms last time we met."

She laughed, and looked him in the eye. "Strict is an interesting way to put it."

Smirk gracing his features, he said nothing, just watched her mirth and laughed with her.

She stilled, saw the seriousness lurking beneath his smile, and asked, "What's the proposition?"

He lost his smile then, looking pensive. His brow pinched together as he thought, until he finally looked at her. "Never fear me. Don't do as I say. Just… just love me." His softened, bringing his hand to her cheek and caressing her, "I have always been your slave."

Her heart had jump-started, pounding furiously at his words, and she stopped the hand at her cheek with her own. Holding him there, she turned her face toward his palm and stroked it with her lips.

She whispered, "I accept." He looked at her, and smiled then, taking in the subtext of her words. The arm around her waist tightened and pulled her tight against him, lips meeting with gentle passion. They were slow and languid, content to touch lightly and kiss trails in exploration.

As he licked a circle behind her ear, she said softly, "Oh Jareth, by the way, stop stalking me outside my window."

His breathy laugh tickled her ear, "You were hardly discouraging, my dear."

She laughed with him, "But if you knock and come in, I might kiss you."

"An adequate exchange."

A while later when caresses became more purposeful and her blood was back to boiling, Sarah thought of something and said, "Jareth, if you ask nicely, sometimes I might pretend to fear you, do as you say, and be your slave."

His lips moved from her nipple as he looked up, eyes dark and burning. "That sounds delicious."

She smiled, "Are you gonna offer me the same?"

He quirked a brow, kissed her breast and said, "Nope."

An indignant breath escaped her, "That's not fair."

He laughed then, an outright belly laugh that shook his whole body. When he could, he looked at her and said, "How I've missed you."

The End.

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