I don't own it.
She sat on her bed, long legs crossed, her ebony hair in one braid cascading down her right shoulder. In her simple black shorts and white tank top, she was the epitome of simplistic beauty, someone who didn't need lipstick and foundation and air-brushing to stop any man in his tracks.
And he was dying to kiss her. She could smell it.
He leaned in closer, and her heart picked up pace. Sweat came to the palms. Her head began shaking.
"You shouldn't do that, Jareth."
A small chuckle. "Oh?" He tilted his head, not moving any further away. "And why not?"
"I just don't think it's a good idea," She said, wringing her fingers together, her gaze falling down to her lap, "You might end up getting hurt."
"Blasphemy," He said.
And he kissed her.
The very next night, he lay back on her bed, his head resting on the soft pillow, his eyes shut tightly. She knelt before him, a cup in her hand. He saw her there, and he quickly sat up to reach for the cup, but his hand soon went to his head. His face twisted in pain.
Finally, he grabbed the cup, taking a long sip. He cast a weary glance in her direction.
"You could've told me you had strep throat."
Sarah shrugged. "You didn't ask."
Ha. Jareth got strep throat!
This was written a while ago, when I was suffering from strep throat.
Also, I hate to promote myself, but I have this Man Who Fell To Earth fic in the Misc. Movies section that isn't getting ANY reviews. If you're a fan of the movie, then take a peek! And review? It's collecting dust. And I really wanna make it AMAZING.