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Sarah was pacing, she couldn’t help it, around and around his oversized kitchen with a glass of her favourite wine in hand and her hair flowing down her back, although it was becoming a bit ratty with every frustrated swipe her other hand took to raking through it, growling all the more with each annoyed thought passed through her mind.
It was a bit early to be drinking; she knew that without anyone else having to point it out, but she was beyond anxious for tonight’s party and, damnit, just needed the help of liquid courage.
The problem wasn’t so much the party itself; she was excited, really, to be taking her partner to their first outing together as an official couple, especially without her co-workers again after the debacle of their entire summer get-together, but no, the problem was much harder and yet simpler than that.
Sarah had no idea what to even dress up as.
She tossed the last big sip left in her glass and pinched the bridge of her nose, closing her eyes tightly together as she exhaled with experienced dramatic flare.
“Precious?” Jareth asked from the fridge as he took out the bottle and was on the way to refill her glass. After all their years together, the first near decade being nothing more than friends, now finally together after the whirlwind of their summer adventure over and done with, he had learned a thing or two about helping in silent ways, such as this. “Talk to me, Love.”
“Guh! I just–” she shook her head, agitated. “I can’t think of what to wear! I don’t want to look like an idiot! I didn’t go last year cause I was still fresh meat, and Lexie said there’s nothing I can say or do to get out of it this time! I don’t want to dress up too sexily, could you even imagine that with all my colleagues, oh God. And I don’t want to go too hammed up or anything like that, so fake blood is out. Fuck, I don’t even consider if we should do anything as a couple’s costume either and, God—”
He cut her off, plucking her glass out of her hand and laid it on the countertop, then wrapped her in his arms, holding her still to his chest, which was open to nearly his navel and the warmth that radiating from him, warming up her cheek now, kept her in silent attention.
“Sarah,” he started to pet her hair and kiss the crown of her head. “What do you think you would like to be?”
“I don’t know,” she mumbled into his skin and breathed in deep, never able to get enough of his scent. “Do you have any ideas?”
“Hm. I’ve never had to go to a Mortal Halloween get-together before. Somehow, I found myself able to avoid them for all these centuries. You never even resorted to making me dress up all these years. Why is that, I wonder?”
She could hear the smirk in his questioning and lifted her head to fix him with a suspicious glare.
“You know why, Jareth, I would never be home for it. This is the first year I’m not taking Toby out to go trick or treating. He says he’s too old to do that now, and he’s staying up with some of his friends for a movie marathon or whatever,” she said with an annoyed eye-roll that he knew perfectly well was to hide her hurt that her little brother was growing up too fast before her eyes.
“Yes, I see,” he agreed. He tucked a strand of her ratty hair behind her ear and kissed her forehead. “As for if I have any ideas, I think I may have one, but you have to trust me, alright, Love?”
That same shrewd look she gave him reappeared as she caught that damning devious twinkle in his eye wink out at her.
“...Fine, but don’t make me have to zap you or turn you into anything unsightly. You’re too handsome to be turned into a toad, my king.”
He laughed with a full lungful of joy, then twirled her with a flourish and directed her to march to the bathroom.
“Where are you taking me? It’s a little early to shower, don’t you think?”
“Ah, tut tut, my darling, remember? You have to trust me. No questioning my ingenious plans, no matter what, you hear?”
She rolled her eyes, a small smile of long-suffering ire unable to be helped, but kept quiet, regardless.
He flicked on the switch, and the bright and clean bathroom was flooded with light, dancing off the tall wall-length mirror and gleaming off the white granite that seemingly bathed every inch of the room.
He directed his love to sit directly on the counter so her back was facing the mirror. He even went so far as to place her there himself, picking her up from her waist as if she weighed nothing at all (which she really didn’t to him).
He stayed standing, hovering far too close between her legs, and fixed her with an intense stare, drinking her in.
“Hmm, now where to begin, I wonder,” he spoke out loud, more so talking to himself rather than asking her. “Shut your eyes for me, Darling, please. I want it to be a surprise.”
She flicked an eyebrow of suspicious worry, but when he canted his head to the side and smirked, telling her without words to, once again, “just trust him,” she did as she was told and closed them.
“That’s better. What a good girl,” he praised her, and it was just like it always was for Sarah; it melted her to the core and left her a sizzling puddle. “Now, lift your chin a little bit for me, Love.”
She did as he asked and was left to be used as he pleased. However that might be.
The thrill of it, even something so damn simple as just sitting there with her eyes closed, being left to his every desire and not having a damn clue, was surprisingly enthralling. She could feel her heartbeat picking up, and when the first thing she felt against her skin was his soft lips on her right cheek, her skin flushed all too quickly with a pinkish warmth.
“Had to make sure you were still with me here,” he rumbled into her ear, and she could hear the devilish flirtations barely simmering on the surface of his voice.
The next thing she felt was much more unexpected: a makeup sponge dabbing on her face with a light but professional flourish.
“What are you–”
“Ah, ah, my love, remember? No questions,” he cut her off and continued to work against her face.
“Hmph,” she mumbled and stayed her lips.
It took her a lot more will and determination to keep quiet than she liked, but she did it. She sat with her lips nearly sewn together as each new tool worked upon her skin as if she were a blank canvas and he was an artist at work.
Sarah typically didn’t wear much makeup, and if she was going to be completely honest with herself, she wasn’t entirely sure if she had actually ever seen Jareth apply his own.
No, as she thought it over, she felt an oversized fluffy brush sweep across her cheeks with what she guessed to be blush. No, because whenever he would change his glamour out from his “Jareth Goobline” mortal disguise back into his natural Fae form, he was always just made up already, eyebrows and all.
So, the fact that he was painting her up right now, especially that he could just have whatever he was planning to do with her done with a snap of his fingers, intrigued her and turned her insides into squirming butterflies.
“Maybe he’s pulling a prank on me and turning me into a harpy or a goblin pumpkin. Gods, I hope he’s not being a jackass right now.”
She stayed still as a statue as she felt the delicately light swipes of a brush against her eyelids. Silently, she wondered what colour they were being transformed into, hoping it wasn’t anything too garish or bright.
“If he thinks that I’ll keep cool for even a second if he’s pulled something ridiculous, I’m definitely turning him into a toad.”
“Open your eyes for me, Darling, just a little bit, but no peeking. Promise?”
“P-promise.”
“If you’re a good girl for me, you’ll be rewarded too.”
Oh, there it was again, that shudder of anticipation and delight, which travelled up from her toes and pooled heavily in her core, warming up between her legs.
“I promise; I’ll be good,” she nearly stuttered, her voice low in a near whisper.
“I know you will be,” he matched her volume, and when her eyes flickered open, but not too open, she noticed his half-lidded dark eyes trained intensely on her first before she registered his own flushed cheeks. “Now, stay still. I’m just adding a little bit of mascara, and I don’t want to accidentally poke you, right?”
She held in a giggle, her lips twisting into a reluctant smirk, and kept her lashes as still as possible for him.
“Do you even know how hot you look right now?” she teasingly asked as she watched him delicately apply the thick little brush up and out from her lashes.
“Ask another question, and instead of a reward, you’re going to get punished, Sarah-mine.”
But she was going to be his good girl, as she had promised to be.
He had finished, and after putting the tube of jet-black mascara back away, he laid his hand flush against her thigh, drawing in closer.
“Are you ready for your reward for staying so still?” he asked, his husky voice travelling up her spine.
“Y-yes.”
His grin grew, and there it was again, that damn twinkle in his eye.
He dipped his head low and met her lips with his, kissing her long and deep and with her eyes still closed, she could feel his hand begin to dance along up her thigh, moving into much more intimate territory.
“You haven’t been given permission to move just yet, Precious. Still stay still,” he commanded between their lips, and he began to unbutton the top of her jeans. “I’m not nearly done with you just yet.”
Her breath hitched as he began to peel her pants down off her legs, and she had to clutch her hands into tight fists to try and follow his orders to keep still.
His expert fingers, which, after all these weeks together since they first laid down as one in an entirely new way in their long years as friends, were just as excitingly impressive to her as they danced across her sensitive skin now as that first night. Her heartbeat picked up into a racing run away as he hooked his index finger into the top of her black panties and began to travel down her mound, searching for the already pulsing swollen nub of her clit.
“What’s this?” he asked, his deep voice near the edge of a growling purr, “you’re already so worked up like this for me? My, I wonder how wet you are for your king, hmm?” His fingers moved further down and dipped over the already slippery folds of her soaked core. “Ahh, I see. My love, how good you feel.”
Her head hung back, hitting against the mirror behind her, as she took in an inhale of gasping air once two of his fingers plunged deep into her heat, curling up, and his lips dived into the exposed skin of her neck.
“That is not staying still,” he growled against her neck between the worrying marks he brought to the surface as he sucked and bit her delicate skin. “That is too bad, Darling; you’ll have to be punished then.”
He took his fingers from her warmth, immediately making her feel so very empty, and brought them to her mouth, plunging them past her lips.
“Clean me up, and I’ll finish your makeup, Precious,” he commanded, almost dangerously stoic and with the shock of having his fingers taken away from her, her own juices on her tongue now, she did as he ordered.
She sucked and twisted her skating tongue between the two digits that were only just inside of her, and her mouth watered from her own nectar, keeping his attention trained with his steely, darkened eyes.
“That’s much better, my good girl,” he grinned and removed them, now wet with her saliva instead of her pussy juices, and wiped them dry against her naked thigh. “Now, I will not remind you what you need to do, but I do need you to close your eyes again. Not much left to do, Darling.”
She did as she was told, as much as she was driven wild now that she felt herself craving so much more, already beyond the point of being teased for barely having him inside of her for hardly anything more than a threatening moment and closed her eyes, barely holding back a quivering sigh of pent up frustration.
“That’s my girl. Now, open your mouth, just a small amount. I’m doing your lipstick now.”
She hung her lips apart, a barely there opening, and felt the smooth, luxurious velvet of the lipstick move across her flushed bottom lip. A brief flash of worry sounded across her mind about whatever colour he was using, be it a potential gaudy bright pink or out there wild cherry frenzied red, but she did trust him at the end of the day and shoved the thought to the back of her mind.
A newer worry bubbled to the surface, though, and it made her insides re-twist; she hoped it wouldn’t smudge when she was able to use them again on him.
“There, there,” he soothed her as she felt his strong, lithe hands coil around her middle, “that wasn’t so hard, now was it?” He picked her up from the counter but wouldn’t let her move to look at his work in the mirror just yet. “Ah, just hold on a minute, Darling; you still need to receive your reward. A treat instead of a trick, as it were, no?”
“O-oh?” she asked, staring up at him, her eyes matching his in the way of both headiness and blown-out pupils filled with nothing more than desire and intention. “What do you have in mind?”
“You.”
His hands that held her so close to him now twisted and turned her in the middle of the enormous bathroom, going round and round as if she were nothing more than a spinning top. As she moved in a pirouette, she felt the telltale signs of his magickal powers overtaking her. She began to laugh with gusto, her head falling back, knowing all too well what this spell was, and she knew that he knew well enough how much she despised this little trick but allowed herself to fall away into the wonder of it all regardless.
As tingles of his magick tickled her skin, she watched as inches upon inches of fabric appeared to melt into existence against her skin. Rich, warm, red of the darkest fire, and braids of envious golds danced along her arms and down her body as an entire ball gown grew into life before her eyes. Her hair, which was so ratted and fussed with due to her anxiety, swirled and twisted and turned into an elegant upon, braided into itself with hints of leaves of ember and fire-molten bronzes.
Once he finally slowed her down to a gentle stop, catching her in his arms since she was so dizzy from the overdone spinning, he kissed her, long and deep.
“Look,” he encouraged, neither one taking their eyes off the other for a moment.
Her lips were still parted, and she was nearly in a pant from the spinning. The dizziness was not helped when the kiss seemed to do nothing more than amplify it, but she was going to be his good girl and listen.
What she saw in the mirror, her face a glow and wondrously lit up like a fire of a thousand jewels, was the last thing she expected.
“I figured out what you should be for the party, as you can see,” he barely-there whispered into the shell of her ear, then kissed the spot right behind where it met her jaw.
She felt breathless as she took in his expert handcraft of artistry that he made with her face; her lips were a soft, almost effortlessly blood-warmed cranberry, which matched so well with her gown but better yet with her eyes, her eyes made out of rubies now.
They were bold, surely much more daring than she would have ever worn on her own, but he made them turn into windows to a heavenly hellscape that promised sensual secrets that you would have to keep to your grave for fear of murder.
They were alive, if there was any other way for her to describe them, sharp and open, the same wide and high lines of his own war paint matched to hers—almost. He seemed to have smudged the outer sides, softened them, and made them more modern and chic, something that any other mortal woman of her age could wear, maybe to a club or a fashion runway show.
But she knew.
It was a mark of royalty for the Underground.
“Mine,” he finished his thought for her as she took in his craft, soundless and still breathless.
Without much of any words being able to form in her mind, overwhelmed with how he had changed her into such a shining jewel, someone fit for a majesty that should have never had it before, she turned to face him and, without pause, brought his face down to hers to drown him in her lips.
They were off and away, fallen into the hands of their own making, drunk on love and lust.
Her moans mixed well into his groans of heady need, and he scooped her up, one arm cradling her back and another holding her underneath her knees, carrying her to their well-known home of homes, his–their bed. Their lips hardly broke apart, even blindly walking to where they were about to become undone.
“My very good girl,” he praised her as he laid her down on the bed and slid a warm hand up her thigh as she wrapped her leg around his hip, “What a treat you are for me.”
“Please, Jareth, enough of the jokes, just -guh- fuck me already, please,” she all but begged and, with both hands, took his face and crashed their lips together.
“Well, when you ask so politely… How could I say no?”
She felt, blindly, underneath the ruffles and weight of her skirts, his presence, his stiffened passion well aware and well known, grinding into her seemingly bare core.
“You didn’t even give me any panties?” she asked as the rubbing of his cotton-coated cock against her slick lips sent electric currents through her.
“Of course I didn’t, Love,” he answered nonchalantly, as his fingers began to massage her already aching clit, swirling in measured, controlled waves over and over again, “why would I?”
“You absolute jackass,” she breathlessly tried to laugh but was unravelling all too quickly as the rhythm of his fingertips against her overly-sensitive pearl began to overtake her, careening her closer and closer to a snap release.
“Your jackass, right?”
“M-mine, yes,” she smiled, closing her eyes, giving into the wondrous temptation of his fingers. “All mine.”
She was turning into melted butter in his hands; she knew it, and he did too, oh did he ever, and then, the wicked devil he is, did the worst thing one could do.
He once again took his hand away from her.
“Jareth!” she nearly whined, pent-up and frustrated. "Oh, please don’t stop! I was almost there!”
“You give so many mixed messages, Sarah-mine,” he purred, his wicked grin growing, with all of his uneven teeth showing, “first, you tell me to fuck you already, then you tell me not to stop toying with your clit. I may grow tired of living up to your expectations.”
“Oh, shut up,” she groaned with an eye roll, her pining sexual aggravations coming close to the further end of pissed off, especially so that his toying trickster smile made his repeatedly old line all the more annoying. “Fuck me, my king.”
With her own command, her own demand, her hand shot out from where it was lying above her head in the throws of enjoying what his handiwork was in the middle of performing; she groped between them and began to massage his cock above his britches, rendering him a puddle of distracted uselessness hovering right above her. His head shot down, his long ice-blonde hair tickling her face as he groaned long and hard, feeling her massage his length.
“Mmm, oh Gods, Sarah,” he moaned, then dove his lips to crash into hers once again and, with an experienced hand, cupped and lifted her hips upwards, closer to his center. “You really shouldn’t have done that.”
With his other hand, which was cradling her head in a loving hold, he reached down between them and moved her own away from his cock and swiftly pulled down on the top of his britches, releasing himself from the confines of the trappings.
His cock sprung out with relief, and with practised ease, Jareth began to trace with his head up and down between her folds, slicking himself with her flowing juices.
Sarah was about to demand him to, once again, just get on with it before she exploded from frustration, but just as she opened her lips with her command on the tip of her tongue, he stole her kiss and drove himself into her, trapping her words with a moan into his mouth.
They both knew well enough that this wasn’t going to be a long romp in the bed together. They were both racing close to the finish line from the teasing foreplay of his making her up, but they were going to hang on for as long as they could on this rollercoaster.
“Oh, fuck, Jareth,” she purred as he pumped in and out of her, her edging orgasm already knocking on the door that had been denied by her over and over already. “D-don’t s-stop!”
He could feel the pressure of his balls tightening and wanted to reach his own Nirvana, but with a flash of his hand, he began to use his thumb to massage his love’s aching clit.
“My good girl deserves her treat now, hmm?” he groaned into her ear and then began to suck on her earlobe, feeling the flutter of her inner walls squeezing around him.
Wordlessly, she began to pant, her begging desire for release beginning loudly, and her hands clamped hard to his back, her nails digging in harshly into his pale skin.
“Yes, yes! P-please, Jareth!” she cried through her clenched teeth as the electric waves of her climax overtook her, blinding her view behind her tightly closed eyes with explosions of pure ecstasy.
He wasn’t much further behind her, feeling only a small amount of embarrassed bashfulness that it took him less than a few minutes to be found struck with his own rocketing orgasm, but the minute he began to tease her in the bathroom, he was also tightening up in his own frustrated edging foreplay.
Rope after rope of his seed pumped deeply into her soaked core, and she helped milk him with her walls clamping down on him, coaxing more and more of his cum to fill her up.
They stayed still in each other’s arms, in the afterglow of their tryst, overheated from fucking into their clothes, and their limbs twisted around one another before Sarah’s mind brought her back to Earth in worry.
“Oh, shit! Did we ruin the makeup?” she asked, her eyes popping out in concern.
Jareth, with a smirking grin that was stained with the deep cranberry red of her lipstick, looked over her face and felt his cock jump with a want to already go for another round as he saw her eyes and lips smudged beyond fixing.
“I guess that means we have to start all over again?” she purred, seeing his red-tinted lips, and dove her mouth back to his.