Disclaimer: The Labyrinth belongs to Lucasfilms, the Henson folk, etc.
Squirming under his touch – those long-fingered hands scraping over the parts covered with cloth, tracing over the parts that weren't – Sarah was bent backward, not quite lying on her desk. Her hands dug furrows into Jareth's hair, and she held him in place by the short hairs at the nape of his neck; he growled against her mouth, and something in her rejoiced at the noise.
Jareth pulled away just long enough to rasp her name, and then he began suckling at her neck. He nibbled his way down the muscle that joined her jaw and collarbone, scraping his teeth lightly against the skin every inch or so. Sarah hadn't known that she'd like that. The grand total of two lovers she'd ever had had both been younger than twenty-four and uniformly selfish and bland. One flat-tongued lick returned Jareth to her ear, where he tugged on Sarah's earlobe and breathed a laugh when she whimpered and squirmed. She hadn't known that she liked that, either.
Sarah, in turn, ran her hands back through Jareth's hair, scraping her nails across the scalp; she grinned when the tips of her fingers brushed over the lightly pointed tips of his ears, pulling a groan from him.
Had it really only been two weeks – less, actually – since this man, this electrifying creature panting under her hands had come back into her life? So much had happened so fast; it made her head spin. But somehow, after seven years, all her teenaged hormones and untutored imagination had been justified.
Seven. She frowned suddenly, guilt biting at her. But… it's been eighteen here. God, he's been waiting a lifetime. Small wonder Jareth was making such helpless noises.
"Where've you gone, Sarah?" Jareth murmured in her ear, holding on to that first syllable, regaining her attention and sending a twinge down her spine. "You're a million leagues off." He drew back, pulling her a little more upright, concern in his expression.
Is he scared I'm going to run? Again? Shame cooled her ardor, and she curled in on herself a bit.
Clutching at his forearms, trying to reassure him that she wasn't retreating, Sarah murmured, "Eighteen years, hm?" She eyed the collar of his jerkin.
He turned his hands to cup her elbows. "But not nineteen; not fifty." Releasing her just long enough to reach up and turn her face to his, Jareth leaned forward again and added, "And not a minute more." This kiss was not hesitating like the first, nor hungry and increasingly insistent like the second through fourteenth – or fortieth, whatever – but it was as reassuring as a kiss could be. He sealed his lips firmly against hers, withdrawing only enough to pull gently at her bottom lip three times.
When Jareth finished this kiss, his forehead leaning against hers, Sarah pulled back and covered his hands with her own. Slowly, she tugged them away from her face, but she curled her feet in behind his knees, hoping to convey that she was pausing, rather than stopping. His face had gone wary, but he dropped his hands to Sarah's hips and stood, waiting.
"I'm no virgin," she began, turning a searing red; she could just barely keep eye contact, and it wasn't very good eye contact, either.
"I don't care," he replied, leaning in with an expression of relief.
She stopped him with a hand on his chest, and she continued, "But they weren't exactly the kind to stick around –" Jareth glowered "– And it's been a long time, and we're going really fast." Sucking in a deep, courage-bolstering breath, Sarah said, "I'm feeling really guilty about the eighteen years, but can we please slow up – just a little?"
And in a gesture that kept her memory of him grateful and respectful for the rest of her life, Jareth tucked her into a hug and murmured, "Of course."
Sarah curled her arms around his neck and nestled her forehead just under his ear, unable for the moment to voice her thanks. After a few seconds of fierce blinking and one hefty sniff, Sarah sighed and turned to press a suckling kiss to the soft spot behind Jareth's ear, triggering a gasp.
"Not to say we need to stop," she said a little shyly. "But I wasn't really envisioning the first, um, time to be, ah, on a desk." He pulled back to look at her, tightening his hold on her hips. Both eyes were dilated, leaving very little blue, and Jareth's face showed some of the discomfort of his restraint.
"First time," Jareth repeated tightly, shutting his eyes. "Sarah, I swear I will proceed as slowly as you need me to, but must not torture me like that." He opened his eyes again and showed her his predatory, one-canine smile. "Try to control your language, and I'll control me."
She laughed a little breathily. "It's not as serious as all that! Just… you don't have to treat me like glass, but this is… a little overwhelming. Be ready to put on the brakes a little."
The I-Don't-Understand-What-Aboveground-Thing-You-Just-Said face made an appearance for a moment, but then Jareth shook his head. "Understood." He leaned in for another kiss.
Sarah broke it with a quiet, "Sorry." She tried to soften it with a smile, and the smile went wide at Jareth's comically overdone sigh. "Just one more thing."
"Shut up." They grinned briefly at one another, and Sarah marveled at it. Then, more seriously, she said, "Protection."
The I-Don't-Understand-What-Aboveground-Thing-You-Just-Said face came back and stayed for a while. "Sorry?"
Sarah sighed, this time, and said, "I don't want kids yet. Fae may have trouble breeding, but it would just be my luck to get pregnant with quadruplets right now." She was blushing furiously, and she felt just as stupid saying this to Jareth as she had felt when she told Lawrence and Trey that she insisted upon condoms. "I'm not at all ready."
Jareth smiled fondly at her. "Don't worry: Magic."
She snorted and drawled, "Like I haven't heard that one before."
And this time, the I-Don't-Understand-What-Aboveground-Thing-You-Just-Said expression seemed to sit down and begin setting up camp on Jareth's face. When Sarah briefly explained the "magic penis" stories cooked up by many a teenage male and reminded him that he was dealing with an Aboveground human, Jareth laughed. "No, Sarah. Actual magic."
"Oh? That seems like something a guy would say just to get in bed with a girl, too." Her answer was arch and clearly in jest. Her left foot, still tucked behind Jareth's knee, drew a slow path up the back of his thigh.
One long-fingered hand flipped twice before her face, and suddenly Jareth held a crystal in front of her nose. The image inside was of her own body; three lights flared in the image's abdomen. Jareth's voice came out half an octave lower than before, and his breath was a bit shaky when he said, "I will teach this to you tomorrow. If you somehow have to tell my mother to expect grandchildren in a couple of weeks, then I'll give you an iron blade and bare my throat to you myself." Easing the seriousness of his words with a small smile, he added, "I am not ready for that, either." The smile spread into a grin. "I've only just got you to myself."
Sarah took the sphere in one hand, and it popped like a soap bubble.
Jareth leaned forward and ensnared her in a toe-curling kiss, one with a stunning amount of delicate tongue work. His hands pulled her flush against him, and Sarah felt the familiar vertigo of teleportation.
When the world stilled, her feet dropped to a floor, but Jareth's hands stayed on one hip and one buttock. Curious, Sarah turned to see where they were.
It was an unfamiliar room, its floor hardwood, its pale stone walls hung with dark blue tapestries. They were still in the castle and evidently in Jareth's quarters. A sturdy four-poster hung with steel-gray drapes dominated the wall to her left. The room itself was somewhat smaller than her own but otherwise was a fair replica of it.
This was all the impression she managed to get of the chamber, because Jareth's mouth latched onto that soft spot behind her ear, making her knees wobble.
"May I?" His words were gentle in her ear, but his voice was just a note or two above a growl.
Sarah grabbed him by the hair at the nape of his neck, pulled him into a kiss, and began drawing him backward to the bed.