Warnings for lemons. Perhaps more er, ah… tart than I'd originally intended for an otherwise fluffy Christmas fic. Sorry? Or to quote, the GK, "You're welcome". This chapter is stupidly long because the OCD part of me wanted this to stay 13 chapters and I needed to say more than I thought. Like this should really be 2-3 chapters.

"Christmas is not a time nor a season but a state of mind."

Calvin Coolidge

"Get out! Get out! Get out!" Sarah shrieked, her voice shrill in part because of who had walked in on them and in part because the Goblin King's hand was still very much without a reasonable doubt planted between her thighs.

Toby remembered to move and tripped backwards out the door, slamming it.

Before Sarah could do more than begin to process the overall mortification, two things happened.

Jareth ducked his head back to her throat while he hooked a finger into the lace of her panties, clearly intent on continuing as though the interruption had not happened.

And a tentative knock sounded on the door. "Um… actually I still need Uncle Frank's coat."

Sarah bucked out from beneath Jareth. He made a vain effort to keep her underneath him, having finally gotten her there after much effort and many interruptions, but instead caught a stray knee to the groin.

It is a truth universally acknowledged that man or fae, commoner or monarch, it is never a good time to get struck in the family jewels.

The not-King froze, his face contorting in agony.

Sarah fell off the bed in an effort to put distance between them, which wouldn't have been particularly painful had his finger not still been hooked in her underwear. A renting sound followed. She ended up on the floor with quite possibly the worst wedgie she'd had since that summer camp with Jessica.

"Come in!" Her voice had devolved to a squeak.

Jareth managed to sit up. Despite the pain, his expression looked all the more murderous.

Toby opened the door and entered. One hand firmly covered his face and he was by far the reddest of the three.

"We're fine now," his sister promised.

"Fine is a gross overstatement," Jareth remarked sourly.

Toby pulled the shaking hand from his face and did his best to avoid eye contact. He scanned the bed. "Erm, it's that one." He pointed a finger at a blue coat currently tucked under the Goblin King.

Jareth's eyes narrowed. He looked like he was very much considering bogging the boy. Or worse.

"Don't you dare," Sarah hissed.

"Saved by your sister. Yet again. How bloody convenient." Jareth passed the coat over.

Toby snatched it with an outstretched arm, as though he sensed just how close to demise he'd come.

Part of him wanted to point out that doing what they'd been doing – Toby didn't want to frame it properly in words – during a party on a bed full of guests' coats was not the wisest course of action if you didn't want to be interrupted by innocent brothers sent on errands. Or that the door had at least had a lock. He wisely refrained. In his short years he'd found that adults really hated it when those younger than them pointed out their errors. He also, leery of the figure glaring at him on the bed, didn't have a death wish.

"Um, Toby-" Sarah began.

"Saw nothing." If only that were completely true. "Let's just pretend this didn't happened. No need to explain. Let's not talk about it. I'm not here. In fact I wish I was anywhere else but here." That was completely true.

Sarah saw Jareth's expression brighten considerably so she tackled him. "No, no, no, no, no! That's doesn't count!"

Jareth exhaled noisily. It bordered on a growl - like a lion denied a meal.

Toby backed away again but paused before escaping, his young face screwing up in confusion. "Did you… did you say something about turning me into a goblin?"

Karen called from the doorway behind him, "Did you find it, Toby?" She walked in a moment later. "Oh, Sarah. Jareth."

Karen catalogued the scene with experienced eyes. Toby was clutching a wool coat, his face suffused with red. Jareth was seated on the bed; expression rather stony. Sarah was picking at invisible threads on her dress and looking everywhere but at either of them.

"I see you did. Great. Run along and bring it to him, Toby." The boy reacted like he'd received the governor's pardon at the nth hour. He was gone in a flash. "But how silly of me to make this the coat room." She scooped all the coats into her arms until she buckled from the load. "Our room is much more convenient." Sarah began to protest, but her stepmother crab walked out of the room - kicking one fallen jacket along with her into the hall. The door shut with a click.

The lock engaged by itself a second later.

"Much better. Where were we?"

Sarah turned incredulously. "We can't do this now?"

"I can assure you there won't be any more distractions."

"Only because Karen probably wants grandchildren out of this!"

Jareth smirked. "A bit soon, but I'm game to practice."

Sarah pulled a face at him. For her the mood was entirely killed. Despite realizing that Jareth's shirt was still completely open. She pressed a hand to her forehead. There went any plausible deniability. "This could not be more awkward."

"Oh, it would have been decidedly more awkward if he'd come in in, say, ten minutes from now."

"Be serious! We've probably scarred him for life."

Jareth tossed a hand dismissively. "I suspect he's seen far worse already. But I can make him forget if you'd prefer."

"That doesn't seem to be working. He's been suspicious since you got here. And anyway I will still remember." The whole thing was almost funny. Almost.

"I could fix that too."

It was Sarah's turn to look murderous. "Don't you dare!"

"Don't dare do this. Don't dare do that." He sighed dramatically. "How about the things I do dare." Jareth snared Sarah's waist and drew her back towards him until she stood between his legs.

"We really can't." Right now, she meant. The thought of Toby and Karen knowing what they were doing… it was worse than a cold shower. On the one hand a little funny, on the other not conducive to adult type touching. Far better to just return to the party. "We need to go downstairs. Pretend nothing happened." She fidgeted, her underwear still painfully digging into places it shouldn't but unwilling to try and un-floss herself in front of him. "I doubt I can even sit down,"

"Pity." Lips twitched. "That was only supposed to come later." His fingers danced along the suddenly hyper-sensitive skin of her inner knee. His eyes on her face, those fingers skated teasingly upwards, slipping under her dress and smoothing up the backs of her thighs.

Despite her reservations, she inhaled sharply and her hands settled on his shoulders. "You know what I meant."

"Yes. And you know what I meant." His words rumbled against her midsection, making something unfurl inside her further. His hands caged her hips, thumbs pressing lightly into the slight hollows. His fingers stretched and snared the fabric of her underwear. He tugged inexorably down.

Her hands caught his through the dress. "What are you doing?"

"Making you more comfortable."

The question had been rhetorical. She knew exactly what he was doing. She was trying to remind herself it was a no good, very bad idea.

He pulled harder and the already rent lace snapped and fell away. Before she could do more than puff in surprise, he cupped her.

Sarah jerked - a delicious frisson of pleasure coursing through her - as one finger brushed between her slick folds and then boldly pressed into her wet heat. Her hands fluttered and then dug into the tautness of his shoulders.

Jareth groaned as her walls gripped him reflexively. His thumb sought the tiny bundle the nerves, teasing her clit when he found it. Sarah instinctively pressed into him, her breasts against his face. His other hand, which had been holding her still, slid free from underneath her dress and pulled the down. He sucked a breast into his mouth, worrying her nipple with his tongue and teeth through the lace. Sarah suddenly couldn't quite remember why it was a no good, very bad idea. When Jareth slid another finger into her, the new stretch even better, her legs began to shake in earnest and all coherent thoughts fled.

He found the right rhythm, right combination of strokes, until Sarah was embarrassingly near release in no time at all. Normally she'd be impressed. Instead it felt like it was a telling weakness. Of what she wasn't sure.

She made the mistake of glancing down at him. His mouth was exquisitely torturing her sensitive breasts, but his eyes were trained on her face. They were dark. Possessive. Covetous. Hungry.

All deliciously exciting looks.

But also just a little smug. Like he'd ultimately gotten his way in end against her more than reasonable protests that it wasn't the ideal time.

She could heard the sound of his fingers slickly pumping in and out of her. Her own ragged breathing. Beneath was the constant buzz of the party. Her world. It was all too much at once and it made her irrationally angry.

Sarah pulled away and clumsily righted her clothing. Her body screamed in protest at how close it had been.

For a moment Jareth looked shocked by her retreat, and then his look morphed into disappointment. He stood, the evidence of his arousal clear through his pants.

Sarah took an uneasy step back. She wasn't scared of him. Not in that way, just overwhelmed at the strength of her reaction. How much she had wanted him. Like they were magnets that should be kept apart until a more opportune time. And she was also embarrassed by the recent events. Christmas presents. Throwing up on him. By… everything.

He misread her expression and his face darkened in anger. "If I'd wanted to force you, I would have long ago. Without the effort of school concerts and the other middle-American mundane. Run away, Sarah. I won't follow." He leaned into her, crowding her just enough, before licking his still glistening fingers clean. "But pretend that didn't happen."

And then he was gone, door unlocked and still swinging open after his exit.

Sarah stared glassily, her body still thrumming in denial. She wondered how she'd managed to fuck it all up without actually getting fu-

Her father poked his head in the now open door. "Oh there you are, sweetie. Come and say good bye to the Cohens."

"Right. Be right there." She ducked into the washroom to splash cool water on her flaming face.

When she opened the bathroom door it was to more relatives collecting their coats. Sarah was hugged and squeezed and generally propelled along back downstairs before she could realize that she still wasn't wearing underwear.

Toby avoided her like the plague. Karen tried very hard not to look uncomfortably aware. She'd be buying bridal mags tomorrow. Sarah wanted to yell that nothing had happened.

Though that wasn't true.

As evidenced by the particular breeze she could feel every time the front door opened and closed.

Sarah scanned the rooms fitfully until she found him. He, by comparison, was completely unfazed. In fact was completely engaged in the conversation with her cousin Julia. Julia-I-lost-my-virginity-way-before-you-Julia. She didn't exactly dislike Julia. She'd just grown up irrationally jealous of her. And though that feeling had long abated, she didn't care for the way Julia kept finding an excuse to touch him while she talked. A pat here, a playful poke there. Did she really just stroke his arm?

Sarah scowled.

"So I guess the next time we see you will be at the wedding, eh?"

"Hmm… what?"

"Don't play coy." Her aunt Kathy hugged Sarah warmly. "And what a catch. Charming man! About time too."

There were more murmurs of weddings, or hints and prods as the evening wore on. Well-meaning but absolutely grating. Even were the relationship real, which it wasn't Sarah reminded herself, they'd ostensibly only been dating since Hallowe'en. Not to mention is was 1999, not 1950.

Her cousin Peter, Julia's brother and always a bit of a prat, made a rather ribald joke hinting at their timely disappearance. Sarah good naturedly laughed along with it and then immediately told a particularly embarrassing story about Peter from when they were children. It contained the infamous song, "Peter, Peter the dog poop eater."

When she found the not-king again he was talking to yet another woman. He apparently hadn't bothered to look for her once, which she only knew because her eyes rarely left him.

Jareth threw back his head laughed at something Emma said.

Sarah snagged Peter's drink and walked away. She was almost immediately accosted by Toby. He dragged her into the kitchen, the space hosting a few guests piling their plates with turkey, and on through into the pantry. He shut the door to the tight alcove and pulled the string for the overhead light.

It was like a bad detective's show interrogation scene.

Toby gave her a stern, probing look.

"I know him."

"What?" Sarah took a fortifying sip of the drink and then coughed hoarsely. It was straight vodka.

"I know him. Jareth. I thought I was going crazy or something. But his face was just so familiar. And his voice…. Yesterday when he was singing-" He looked at Sarah earnestly. "I know what I heard. He said something about turning me into a goblin."

Sarah laughed weakly. "He was obviously joking."

"Maybe," Toby nodded. "But not about the goblins I think. I used to get these dreams… still do sometimes. There are… what look like goblins in them. Laughing. Dancing. It's not scary exactly jut weird. I'm a baby. And there's a voice. His voice. With a face that isn't quite right. The eyes…" Toby trailed off. "And then this morning. I looked out the dining room window and I swear I saw two weird looking… things burying a turkey."

Sarah drained the glass.

"Tell me."

The door opened. Toby and Sarah turned. Karen blinked, her lips pursing. She reached past them and snagged a tin of cranberry sauce. She eyed them both pointedly and then shut the door. They could hear her mutter, "I do not understand this family sometimes."

Toby looked at his sister expectantly. "Please, Sarah."

"It's… it's a long story really. One long overdue, kiddo. But can we… do it later though? And preferably not here?" He should probably be there for it anyway. Sarah wasn't sure if that would make things better or worse.

"Tonight," Toby agreed.

By the time the rest of the guests left, the immediate family was thoroughly spent. Sarah hadn't managed to get Jareth aside to speak to him. Every time she'd neared his orbit they were accosted by well-meaning relatives. Many asked about her career, but most were inclined to know more about them. Together. Jareth managed to appear the epitome of a happy boyfriend. His behaviour was impeccable. Normal. Even dull. Her ad to a T.

The family sat down to a late but casual Christmas supper. It was more tradition than hunger that drove them to it; they'd noshed all afternoon. Crackers were cracked. Paper hats were donned. Bad jokes were shared. Cheap toys scattered to be found and hoarded by Peaches later.

The lull of good food and fine company settled over them - the kind that carries with it a contented exhaustion and the bittersweet realization that Christmas is almost over. And with that an almost desperate need to savour the ebbing hours.

It was marred only by the sense that words left unspoken stood between them.

And there was the dread of speaking to Toby.

Lizzie retired to an early bed. Kisses all round. She looked meaningfully at Jareth before heading up the stairs.

The rest of the family performed a half-hearted clean-up and then collapsed warily in the living room.

Robert, hands folded over a bloated belly he'd begin to worry about in January, noticed a small package still under the tree. "Oh, look, one more for Jareth." He handed it over to the unusually silent Goblin King.

Sarah had completely forgotten about it in the chaos.

It had been a last minute addition of hers on Christmas Eve - a whim, spurred by the magic of Christmas.

Jareth flipped the tag. To Jareth. Thank you. Really. Sarah.

He pulled the paper off, thin lips parting in surprise at the contents.

A little red book with letters embossed in gold. "The Labyrinth". Her much worn, dog eared copy.

"A book, how nice," Robert said. You could hear the relief in his voice that it had no lurid illustrations.

Karen, who had been watching them both closely through tired eyes, stood. "Let's go to bed, dear. You too Toby. Or go play some of your new games."

Toby began to protest but whatever he saw in his mother's expression had him silently following. He looked over his shoulder at Sarah.

Jareth opened the cover. Scrawled in pen was an inscription.

"You've been a villain, a hero, and so much more. It's just a silly thing from a silly girl, but what do you get for the Goblin King? Please accept this in memory of both the good and bad and everything in between. It all mattered to me. It still does. I don't need a book to remember. You've been amazing this week and I have to admit I was wrong in many ways. Not in saying the right words so many years ago but in not saying anything since. I hope you'll remember me too. Thank you. Your Sarah."

"My Sarah," Jareth spoke the words carefully, as though mulling the taste of them.

Sarah realized she'd been gripping her dress tightly and released the fistfuls of wool. "It was silly."

"Thank you," he said finally. By the halting way he said it sounded like he would say more. He didn't.

"It's not a trip back in time or to Ireland. Sorry," she said ruefully. "I guess we forgot to set spending limits." A cheap attempt at levity.

"Somehow better than a tasteful cardigan though." There was humour in his tone too.

Sarah snorted softly. They were once again limned only by Christmas lights. "I just… just wanted you to know."

"For when I go back."

Sarah looked up at the slight hitch in his voice.

"It reads like a farewell as well as a thank you."

Sarah fisted her hands into her dress again. "I just thought… Well, yes. You're… the Goblin King," she said helplessly.

"And you've got a life to go back to." He looked around the living room, laden with evidence of the family that lived there. The girl who had grown up there.

They were talking again but the distance between them seemed even further.

Sarah rolled her lip between her teeth. "I want us to part on good terms."

"Because we will part."

The way he said it made Sarah start. "What are you saying? How would this even work? Do you want to be a part of this? This to be your life? When you're the Goblin King?" The truth was he had fit in. Too well in fact.

When he didn't say anything, she stood, not sure if she was upset or angry but needing to move. "Or were you just going to take me away to your castle beyond the Goblin City."

Silence.

And then, "No," he replied softly. Almost too soft to hear. He rose as well. "I wasn't going to do that either."

Somehow that stung. More than it should have.

"That wasn't your price for your services then." She'd meant it as a joke. Something light, though it suddenly felt very heavy indeed.

His expression creased, and she got the strange idea she'd said the absolutely wrong thing.

Put on your big girl panties, Sarah. Since she wasn't wearing any. You want him. For as long as you can. If only for a night. Before the magic of Christmas faded completely.

Clearly they were pretty bad at talking.

She reached for him - smoothing her hands up his shirt before leaning in to kiss him. Softly. As softly as he'd spoken 'no' - that he had no intention of stealing her away.

When he didn't react, she kissed him harder. More forcefully. Trying anything to get him to make that sound. The one she'd come to crave. And would miss.

Eventually he relented. His mouth softening just enough. His hands slipped round her back to draw her closer.

Sarah still felt like he was holding back. Like it lacked the passion of before. Perhaps he misunderstood again. She dipped her head and nipped his ear. "You know, I'm still not wearing any underwear." She looked over Jareth's shoulder right into the eyes of her brother. "OH COME ON!"

The Goblin Kind turned slightly at her exclamation. His expression read three strikes, you're out kid.

"He knows," Sarah explained. "We owe him an explanation. I owe him one. I promised. Come here, Toby."

Toby reluctantly entered the room and perched on the edge sofa, clearly uncomfortable.

"Are you sure you don't just want me to make him forget again?"

Toby shot them both a startled look.

"No, he deserves the truth." Someone does at least. "He's always known something apparently. I just didn't want to see it."

"There's been a lot lately I didn't want to see," Toby commiserated wryly.

Silence.

And then awkward snorts which stretched into peals of mostly contrite laughter.

"How could he remember though? He was so young."

"I always wondered if he would. It's always stronger if they ate something."

Sarah sputtered. "I'm sorry ate something?"

"It was thirteen hours." Jareth looked completely unrepentant. "Shame on you, Sarah. It would have been cruel to starve a baby."

"Ten hours. You stole three," she corrected by rote.

A brow arched. "Do you really want to argue semantics?"

"Fine you fed him. I just thought that if you something you'd be trapped below forever."

"If that were true, you and I would be having this conversation in my castle, wouldn't we?"

The way he said it, like he was both amused and tempted by the idea made Sarah flush warmly. "Touché."

Toby cleared his voice loudly. "You know, I'd be great if I understood anything you're saying right now."

"Sorry, Tobes." Sarah steeled herself, and then… then she told her brother how it had all begun.

Jareth mostly let her speak uninterrupted, only occasionally adding his own spin where he thought Sarah failed the narrative. Was it the girl who bravely faced the goblin king to win back her brother, or was it the girl who brashly wished him away, changed her mind, and then ruthlessly destroyed an innocent city? Tomato – Tomahto.

Toby's face was blank when they finished, as though he was trying vainly to process it all.

"So wait, you were 15 when this happened and," he turned to the king, "how old were you?"

Sarah and Jareth exchanged looks. "That's not the point, Toby."

"No the point is you wished me away."

Sarah nodded, her shoulders hunching in guilt. He would hate her forever.

"And then you stormed a friggin' castle to win me back! How cool is that?"

Jareth rolled his eyes. It was precisely why he dealt in babies not teenagers.

Sarah immediately crossed the room to hug her brother, her vision glossy. "So no hard feelings? You know how much I love you."

"I mean… now that I know I kind of expect a really extra good birthday present this year."

Sarah choked out a laugh.

"And I mean, it's kinda cool that you're dating this like magical Goblin King?"

Her smile faltered.

"Your sappy journals make so much more sense." His eyes brightened. "So if you guys got married, do I get like a title or something?"

"Ah…"

"You have no idea how close you've come to earning a princedom," Jareth replied drily.

"Toby you cannot tell dad or Karen, kay? Promise me."

It was Toby's turn to roll his eyes. "Like they would believe me."

When her brother finally left, apparently satisfied to have his young world turned upside down, Sarah looked relieved. "That somehow went so much better than expected."

Jareth slipped his arms around her waist. "Forget about the ba… teenager and tell me more about how you're not wearing any underwear."

Sarah was suddenly very aware that she still wasn't wearing any, and that he was very slowly, but most definitely, inching her dress up her legs.

"I had wondered," he mused, "but was unable to verify. You have an annoyingly large number of rather boring cousins?"

"Mm, and several in particular seemed rather taken by you."

"Ah, you did notice. I never said they lacked good taste. The problem was that it was almost impossible to focus when I kept wondering if you had anything on under this dress. Especially knowing that I had these in my pocket." He slid out the torn panties and dangled them from two fingers. The same two fingers that had been buried to the hilt inside her.

She affected a cool smirk. "Stealing women's underwear now?"

"Only after trying to have my wicked way with them in their former childhood bedroom. Numerous times I might add." Cool air hit the back of her exposed thighs.

She clucked. "Sounds like every stereotypical male fantasy."

"Perhaps. Though brothers interrupting really puts a damper on things."

Sarah glanced around. "Speaking of that. Perhaps we should move this elsewhere." His fingers skimmed her bare ass and then squeezed. "Why don't you take me away somewhere private and have your wicked way with me."

"I thought you'd never ask."

Another tug at her navel and they were alone before a warm fire. She was both relieved and unbelievably disappointed to see they weren't Underground. It wasn't his bedroom. Or the throne room. Or even up against a stone wall. Places she'd never, scout's honour, thought about having her wicked way with him. These walls were roughhewn wood. A large bed with plush combed wool blankets occupied most of the room. The space was warm, but looking the paned windows a veritable blizzard was raging. Despite it having been rather mild weather that evening.

"Oh, my god. Are we…"

"Cabin in the woods? Snowed in? Roaring fire? Yes. You spoke so fondly of the idea on the drive here."

She made to protest. It was beyond cheesy. It was beyond perfect.

"You talk entirely too much." He kissed her. It wasn't a gentle; his teeth caught at her lips - enough that they would still be swollen the next day.

Her dress was bunched up around her waist. His hands pressing into the hollow of her hips and across the slight swell of stomach.

Sarah tugged at his shirt, pulling it free from the waistband of his pants and then hurriedly undoing it. Half way through buttons scattered loudly across the floor boards.

"You have no respect for my wardrobe," Jareth chuckled, clearly pleased. He dragged the dress over her head and off, and then his hands found her breasts, stroking them appreciatively before tugging the sheer bra down so he could finally use his mouth on her bare skin. Sarah arched up and backwards in his arms to provide better access. He undid the hooks and slid the whole thing away.

Sarah wasted no time and reached for his belt, stroking his length through the pants first. He made a deliciously hoarse noise of encouragement. She slipped her hands inside the open fly and stroked hi fully, gripping and sliding up the shaft. He dipped her suddenly, and for a moment she was falling, until he carefully cushioned her into the thick rug. He shucked his pants off and knelt between her legs, his eyes roving over her fully exposed body. She might have felt the requisite embarrassment of being so exposed. Instead she stretched, arching slightly and relished the slight hitch in his breathing. Hers faltered as well she took in the broad shoulders that tapered to narrow hips. Pale skin stretched over lithe muscles.

Not to mention the evidence of how much he wanted her so very close.

The not-king's eyes were dark, hooded. She could see that his chest rose and fell. But it wasn't right.

He leaned over her, one hand snaking up her thigh, crooking her legs wider.

"Stop."

An almost pained expression of patent disbelief crossed his face.

"No, let me see you. Without the glamour."

Jareth relaxed. Almost immediately his hair lengthened – growing wilder; more inhuman. The markings around his eyes bled into stark relief.

"That's better," she breathed reverently. She reached for him, pulling him down into the cradle of her hips, her lips pressing hotly to his throat.

One of his hands skimmed between her legs, sliding between her slicks fold to again find the spot that made her shiver before. He groaned to find her so wet when he sank fingers inside. He dipped his head to capture her mouth hungrily.

Sarah cupped him, stroking his rigid cock, relishing the feel of velvet sliding over iron. Her other hand carded through his wild hair to cup his neck.

He broke the kiss to mark a path down her chest until he could greedily suck the tips of her aching breasts. His tongue whorled across the sensitive buds; his fingers continuing to torment her. Sarah's breath was little ragged pants. His was no better.

His hips rocked against hers.

She pulled at him to move him up, tilting her hips and hitching her legs closed around him.

He slowed long enough to watch her face as he withdrew his hands. She felt him press into her slightly.

Jareth cupped her jaw, fingers still slick with her arousal pressed into her mouth so that she could taste herself as he slid home in one thrust.

Sarah arched, biting down softly on his thumb as she adjusted to being filled. It was heady to be so stretched and pulled, so that each little movement rocked through her.

Jareth hadn't taken his eyes off her face, his eyes still so dark they were almost black. Predatory. His mouth parted as though in awe. He moved out and then in, hissing as her walls gripped him fully. As they both shifted to find the best fit, Sarah's legs tightened and her ankles locked around his waist. Her arms hooked under his, trying to cage the feeling that was building in her. Trying to cage him too.

She sought his mouth, paying him back with her teeth and tongue. The sound of their bodies moving together, skin against skin, keens and grunts and half wild utterings, and the crackle of fire, contrasted with the steady whine of wind and snow outdoors.

One hand slid between them as they moved, first cupping the column of Sarah throat and then brushing between her breasts to splay across her stomach before finding her clit again. The extra attention completely sent her over the edge and Sarah arched – her nerves firing all at once. Her head fell back and hit the floor hard enough it would leave a dull ache later. Her body went languidly limp for a moment. Jareth hooked one of her legs up, deepening the angle. She watched him breathlessly, her body still on fire, as he followed her. She clutched him, her arms wrapping around is shoulders as though to draw him deeper or steady him as he lost control, his mouth against her neck, lips moving soundlessly against her skin. His body rocked and then stilled, her leg sliding off his shoulder – both of them boneless. He rolled them enough so that they both faced the fire, his body shadowing hers from behind. She could feel him still half hard against her, her thighs sticky, but in no care to do anything about it. Their sweat dampened skin was cooling. He brushed the hair away from her neck and pressed an open mouthed kiss against her pulse. Neither spoke, both dozing to the gentle crackle of the fire.

Sarah woke a short while later. His hand was curled around her breast, a thumb drawing lazy circles that woke her on another level entirely. They moved to the soft bed in a tangle of still aching limbs. This time the made love slower, Jareth still spooned to her back. The position allowed him full access to her front, while her hand bent back to grip his hips as he gently rocked against her.

When next they woke steaks of sunlight cast stripes across their skin. The white sheets were tangled round their legs.

Sarah sat up suddenly. "It's morning!"

"Astute observation as always," drawled the amused voice beside her. Jareth admired the view beside him.

She swatted him. "Everyone will notice we're gone."

"You are remarkably violent. Or they will find a note explaining that we've gone skiing. A romantic little getaway for two."

"I don't ski." She playfully swatted him again.

He caught her wrist. "Neither do I. So perhaps we can find something else to pass the time." He pinned her to the bed, leaning down to kiss her thoroughly. "I so have a few ideas."

She couldn't stop the sheepish smile from spreading. "We can't stay in bed all day."

"Why not? Staying in bed on Boxing Day is a long standing goblin tradition."

Sarah pulled a face. "You're lying."

"Absolutely. But it could become one. I'm the king, after all. I make the traditions."

So they did, until they were both so sore Jareth made a warm bath appear, deep enough for them both to soak in. Food was as easily produced.

"I could get used to this," Sarah breathed later, stretching beneath the sheets.

"Could you?" he asked, his tone deceptively light. He tucked a stray hair behind her ear.

He also produced Champagne, with a stern warning that he had no more shoes to spare. His laughter turned to groans when she pushed him back and kissed her way down his chest to put her smart mouth to other uses. He paid her back in kind, his hands hitching her legs over her shoulders as she squirmed. Her head craned back. "I love Boxing day!"

It was several hours later, bodies spent and exhausted, that Sarah looked around suspiciously. "Jareth, where are our clothes?"

As with anything, all good things end.

Christmas gets, stored back into boxes and basements, the magic waning til it is called forth again. They returned the Williams family home. No one was suspicious when Sarah winced every time she sat. "Skiing is hard work," Karen commiserated. "Lots of falls."

The final day flew by in final visits, packing, and goodbyes. Lizzie was delivered to the airport. She hugged each of them tightly, reminding them to go to Church and not fall lazy just because they were Americans. She squeezed Sarah last of all, her lips parting several times as though she wanted to speak but didn't.

Sarah and Jareth took their leave, more hugs and happy tears. Karen made them promise to come back soon. Sarah wondered how she was going to break her heart later. Toby kept winking at them both. Next she feared he'd propose a secret handshake.

They'd had trouble finding Peaches before leaving and when they did, he was chewing on what looked to be a Goblin cap. Sarah stuffed it in her pocket quickly.

The road trip home was strangely quiet by comparison. When they finally pulled into her building, Sarah was feeling emotionally brittle.

She turned the lights on in her dark apartment, dropping keys, dumping the mail on the table. Little things to keep her busy.

Jareth watched her, his body leaned against the entryway wall, arms folded. She fidgeted with the necklace Lizzie had given her round her neck.

"So…" she said finally.

"So. Contract fulfilled."

"More than," her lips twitching in memory.

He dipped his head and kissed her lightly before stepping back again.

"You're leaving now." It was a statement not a question. She could tell from his gait. From his expression. She wasn't prepared for the pang.

"It's time. There are more things to set right from my oversight."

"Creatures to bog." She affected a smile – it wobbled slightly. He was just going to leave apparently. "You could always come back, you know, for another visit."

"When you need another date?"

"Just here. You'd be welcome."

"I know. I can only come above so many times. There are limits. It's… complicated."

Not finding what she needed, she stepped closer. "Or I could come and visit you, maybe," she said softly.

She watched his throat bob, his jaw tightening. But he said nothing.

Sarah's heart dropped. He wasn't going to ask. It was fine. She straightened. "So… thank you then. I had… a really nice Christmas. I'm tired and should probably get some sleep. Work tomorrow."

He stared at her owlishly. A feeling of expectation in the air. Sarah felt like she was reading a book in a language she couldn't understand. Say your right words. Only she didn't know them. "Oh payment. Right. You're… waiting for payment."

Jareth's head tilted down, so that she couldn't see his expression. When he looked up again, his face was guarded. "Payment," he repeated. "My price has… been fulfilled. We're even."

Sarah blinked, mouthing an 'oh'. He wanted nothing more from her.

He bent and kissed her softly. She could taste the goodbye on his lips.

And then he was gone.

December turned to January. Sarah threw herself into her work. Into cleaning. Into running. Into anything but thinking. She was given the promotion at work – which kept her blessedly busy and happy in her way.

In February, he came back for a visit one night. It was made her heart flip. They'd eaten dinner together. The entire time he'd been perfectly behaved if a little distant. Again like he was waiting for something.

In April, tired of deflecting phone calls she drove home again. She explained everything, leaving out key details. There were looks of disappointment. In the end, the air was cleared. She also found the program. The one from his gift that she'd pressed her between pages of her book. Tangible proof it had all happened.

He came again in early summer, Sarah assumed the solstice allowing him passage. She told him all about her work. The campaigns she'd managed. He listened politely but always as though waiting for more.

That night she found the book. He'd evidently returned it. That stung the most.

Late summer her craigslist pinged. She'd put up a search for any PR jobs, linking to pick up new clients.

"PR person wanted to reform wicked monarch's image. Dark haired women aged 20-30 wanted."

Sarah's throat had caught and she quickly answered the ad.

Nope.

Fetish. Middle aged man looking to role play.

Delete, delete, delete.

In fall she received a letter. The post mark was from Ireland. Easily discerning who it was from, Sarah read it idly. Part way through her eyes widened and she gripped it so hard, the stationary wrinkled.

She dug her address book out and looked up Lizzie's number.

When her aunt answered the phone Sarah didn't bother with salutations. "I need to know exactly what you did."

There was a long pause and then a sigh.

"First of all, I am an old meddlesome woman. I'm not making excuses. But mind I wasn't always that way. Once I was young and full and dreams…"

Sarah excused herself, wiping her salt-stained face as she dashed upstairs. Jareth watched her go. Lizzie watched Jareth.

"I know what you are."

The not-king canted his head at the old woman. "I think you've established I'm not a vampire."

"Don't get smart with me, my lad."

Jareth laughed. "If you know what I am then you know I am far older than you… child."

Lizzie's eyes narrowed. "Your kind is all the same. You leave my niece alone."

"Greeeeeeeat niece," Jareth corrected mockingly. Lizzie looked like she wanted to slap him, but his expression drew serious. "Who was he?"

Lizzie started, her mouth parting as though ready to deny. "How did you know?" she whispered.

"Let's just say I can tell those touched by magic. Just as those touched by magic aren't easily fooled."

"It was a long time ago. I was young and beautiful. She looked at Jareth as though expecting him to doubt her or make a snide comment about the ravages of time.

The not-king did neither, merely waiting for her to continue.

"He was uncannily beautiful too. Much like you I imagine, if you showed your real face. He came at Christmas time as well. Quite swept me off me feet. I…," Lizzie looked down, "he charmed me and we lay together. For months. Back then in, Ireland, that was sorely frowned upon. I couldna bring shame to me family. But he promised to take me away. Give me everything. Said he would come back by next Christmas. Made me such sweet promises."

"And then he never came back," Jareth finished.

"No. He did not. Never again. I waited three Christmases before I knew t'would not be. Grew fearful thin and restless. Turned down many a decent village boy. I'd given meself and thought it were only right. I became a nun for a while, and found peace. I've always loved the church," she said defensively.

Jareth said nothing.

"Don't pity me. I had a good life. A happy one."

"So Sarah's told me."

"And I love me family," she said sternly, her accent all the thicker. "I don't want you to make promises to her you won't keep."

"I've made her no promises."

Lizzie eyed him. "I see the way you look at her. You want her. She wants you too, but there is something I recognize in yer eyes. I know you can't stay here forever."

Jareth nodded.

"And if you take her with she'll be beholden to the same rules. She won't be able to return. Not permanently."

Another nod. Stiffer.

"You've considered it."

Jareth's eyes flickered tellingly, but he didn't say anything.

"I can see. I won't interfere. Yer both adults and times are different."

A brow arched.

"But don't make her believe more. Don't use honeyed words to sway her." Lizzie caught something in his expression. "Ah, I see. You've tried before. And it did not work. Perhaps Sarah is might wiser than I was. Ceard a bheadh suil agat cloisteail o mhuic ach gnusacht." Lizzie sighed. "Perhaps yer... not like him. You came back for one." A short laugh followed, tempered by the years. "I don't think ye know what you do to us. No… ye probably do know. Please let her make her own decision. Whatever it may be. Do not tempt her by more. Not until she speaks of her feelings first."

Jareth's face betrayed nothing. Neither anger nor agreement.

"I'm owed this request. I ask during yule."

For a moment Jareth looked every bit the Goblin King. Enough that Lizzie took a halting step back. "Ag tarraingt an diabhail de ghreim eireabaill."

But Lizzie swallowed, her spine straightening. "You'll never know if you she really wants you otherwise. And I suspect that actually matters to you… otherwise what is all this."

Jareth stared at her, Lizzie's cloudy eyes just as fierce as his. "By Yule's light."

When Lizzie finished speaking Sarah swallowed thickly. "Why did you write me? Why tell me now."

Silence on the other end. "Because he's apparently kept his promise. And honestly I thought ye might have chosen him. But you didn't. And I wanted to make sure."

"But I…" Her mind played over their last encounters. There had been so much said without words. So much more unspoken, she supposed. She replayed his expressions, the way he always seemed about to say something but hadn't. How he'd watched her. Hungry. Waiting.

But she'd also been waiting on him to say something. To ask for more. Which, in hindsight, perhaps had been foolish of her considering their history. Waiting for him to chase her. But he hadn't because he'd promised.

Or because he didn't want to…

"Perhaps he changed his mind. Got what he wanted and didn't look back." It was what she'd once been planning.

"You know better than I do. But he went to awful trouble to show you he could play by your rules. Do what makes you happy, Sarah."

Sarah paced, chewing her lip. "He hasn't reached out though. Not for a long while."

"Perhaps he's protecting himself too."

"I…need to think. Thank you. For telling me."

Sarah hung up the phone. Her emotions were roiling. She stood in her living room, hugging her arms round herself until her eyes lit on the book he returned. She opened the cover. Beneath her inscription, he'd written, "To always find your right words."

A few days later her Craigslist pinged. She'd had it set to inform her of any new opportunities.

That night she dreamt they were back at New Grange. Sarah looked up at the sky, watching the stars streak across the horizon as time moved back into place.

Sarah rocked up in bed.

'I move the stars for no one.'

Until you did.

Her face broke into a grin.

As fall turned to winter, Sarah finalized her plans. By the first snows, she took an indefinite leave of absence from her job and put her condo on the market. She asked her parents to watch Peaches for a while. Told them she was seeking a new opportunity abroad.

She hugged and kissed them all at the airport, only Toby suspecting more behind her words.

Lizzie met her on the other side of the ocean. Very early the next morning, Lizzie served her a bracing cup of tea. "Are you sure about this?"

Sarah smiled to herself, thinking of everything she'd done in the last few months. "Too late now. Did you get it?"

Lizzie scoffed. "Did I get it? Of course I got it!" She passed a ticket over to Sarah. "One of me old students from school works the lottery. Billy is still afraid of me." She sounded pleased.

Sarah touched the ticket. New Grange Winter Solstice.

The next morning, while it was still dark, Lizzie drove her to the site. It was only about 40 minutes from where Lizzie lived. It only took Lizzie 20. Sarah was sure they were going to die at least three times.

"Get off the road, ye feckin' eejit," she yelled at a sheep. It bleated back at her.

Lizzie hugged her in the parking lot. "If ye change yer mind, I'll be waiting here. For a little while." She checked her watch. "Me shows start in about an hour. So I'll wait at least say ten minutes."

Sarah felt her nerves dancing. "Do you think I should do this?"

"Nuair a bheas an t-ull aibi titfidh se."

Sarah blinked at her.

"You know yer own mind. Yer own heart."

Sarah nodded and began walking towards the mound.

"He does have a lovely bum, Sarah," Lizzie called.

Sarah smiled without looking back.

Standing with the other tourists, most with their cameras out, Sarah felt like an imposter. As with the year before, the sun, first breaking the horizon, began to creep along the path. Sarah squinted but could see nothing. There was no crystal, nothing to indicate he was there. Sarah reminded herself that he'd mentioned numerous sites to perform the rituals.

When the sun illuminated the tomb, casting the whole thing into warm relief, Sarah took a deep breath, closed her eyes, and touched the spirals.

"Please, miss, as we explained in orientation, please refrain from touched the carvings. Americans."

Sarah ignored the frazzled sounding guide and opened her eyes. She was alone. She turned in all directions. The spirals glowed gold. Before her, in the centre of the tomb lay the Labyrinth.

Sarah turned, her world behind her, and then forward again to the world beyond. "Come on feet."

As soon as she passed through, the brief sensation of falling robbing her breath, hands wrapped around her. Sarah looked up into the eyes of the Goblin King.

For a moment they merely stared at one another. Jareth cupped her face, Sarah's hand covering his. "You found the right words."

"Through dangers untold – namely Lizzie's driving – I have fought my way here," Sarah whispered with a smile, "to answer an ad for a Goblin King looking to reform his public image."

Jareth stroked her cheek. "That was mostly a ploy to get you here. I rather like my image as is. And I'd hate to give up the boggings."

She leaned into the touch. "Yes. I think Lizzie would consider the ad and the book cheating." She pulled the tone free to his inscription.

"Semantics. I can only curb my wicked nature so much. You have no idea hard it's been to be good."

Sarah eye's widened. "And I knew the ad was you!"

"The words?"

"I'll want Peaches here."

Jareth smiled wickedly. "I will hand feed you as many as you like."

"I meant I'll my cat."

"Excellent. I'll hand feed goblins to him."

Sarah laughed. "I'll still want to spend as time with my family whenever possible. You don't have to come. No more concerts and malls."

"You stupid girl," he teased. "I assumed that would be stipulated. Why else did I try so hard to show that I could play nice with mortals?"

"I thought that was to get into my pants?"

"Oh absolutely."

She kissed him. Because she could. Whenever she wanted. Wherever she wanted. "Speaking of getting into pants…"

"I suppose you'll have to meet my family," Jareth mused. "We have our own Yule traditions."

Pants were instantly forgotten. Sarah hadn't quite considered when she'd initiated this mad caper that he had family too. Ones she might have to meet.

"Enough about them for now. I'm still waiting for those right words. Time is short."

Sarah feigned innocence. "You mean that I love you?"

Jareth kissed her roughly, his arms almost too tight around her and yet just right because it felt like he wouldn't let her go.

She eventually pulled back enough to breathe again. "Well? Don't pull a Han Solo on me!"

"I will likely never understand some of the things you say," he shook his head. When she continued to frown, he leaned down and whispered against her ear, amusement and something else entirely lacing his tone, "Oh, Sarah, we both already know the Goblin King had fallen in love with the girl. Merry Christmas."

The End

AN: That's all folks!

I hope you've enjoyed this mishmash of fluff, humour, SO MANY TROPES, smut and shenanigans. It's like the junk lady of fics.

It's been a treat to write. Your reviews have been dear and appreciated. With many of them making me laugh outright. You all rock. It touched me that some of you didn't want it to end, but it feels right for this fic to end it here. Time to get back to working on something that rhymes with Shmangled Shmood :)

Irish Translations:

Lizzie: Ceard a bheadh suil agat cloisteail o mhuic ach gnusacht. What could you expect from a dog but a bite.

Jareth: Ag tarraingt an diabhail de ghreim eireabaill Never pull the devil by the tail

Lizzie : Nuair a bheas an t-ull aibi titfidh se – When the apple is ripe it will fall.