Neighbors

Author's Notes: This is written roughly ten years after the movie, and to those who have never read one of my Labyrinth fanfics (yes, there are others, just not here) I only write Sarah with Jareth. Which should become painfully obvious relatively early on...>.>;

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Neighbors
By: Little Big Sister

It had been a bad week, Sarah decided as she side-stepped her latest dating endeavor and told him with the same cold calm that there wasn't going to be a third date. By now you would think she was used to disappointment, of disappointing.

She wasn't.

“Sarah, darling, why don't we try one more time! It might surprise us both,” the unsuccessful date tried to stop her from shutting the door in his face and failed miserably. She leaned back on her door and let her head fall back against it several times, much as she always did after these attempts. She'd tried everything, even those little drinks that claimed they boosted your libido, she'd tried dating men that aroused her senses or her mind, but nothing worked.

She'd even tried, briefly, being with other women, to determine if that was the problem.

It wasn't.

She was developing a wicked headache, so she stopped punishing her door. Just as she was about to step away from it, there was a sharp rap against it. A glance through the peephole found her neighbor standing there, his hands in his pants, looking rather tired. She opened the door a crack, peering out at him.

Jared King had been the first and only man she'd met since puberty to offer friendship without expectations. He was a Brit, who was here trying to make it big as a rocker, but his style was not new and in a world that was being overcome by rap, uninvited. So he lived in the small flat beside hers, where some nights she could hear him practicing on a guitar. She never heard him play with an amp, but for some reason, she heard the soft strings of his electric guitar through the walls. The sound was comforting.

She sighed, opening the door. “Come on, I'll make tea,” she offered.

He gave her an amused smile and stepped inside, closing the door behind him. “Another one?”

She hesitated to answer. Their relationship had been like this for months. Shortly after a bad date, he'd show up at her door with a sympathetic ear, and he'd always tell her the same thing. She just hadn't found the right one.

That much was obvious.

With a sigh, she went into the kitchen and filled a kettle with hot water, paying little attention as he hopped up onto the counter, his elbows on his knees, looking at her from beneath his blond bangs. Sometimes, he reminded her of a dream she'd had as a child, where she'd wished away her brother and earned him back. She thought that maybe that dream was why she couldn't find happiness with men anymore. “You know it was,” she said quietly, setting the kettle on the stove and not looking at him.

“Sarah,” he said quietly and she looked towards him. He seemed to be surprised for a moment, but she wasn't certain if that was because of the tears in her eyes or the look of determination on her face.

“I know what you're going to say,” she said. “He just wasn't 'right' for me. Hell, at this point, I'd take completely and utterly wrong for me, if it would stir something.”

He glanced away, then hopped off the counter. She watched as he pulled down two mugs and her tea and she wondered when he got so good at navigating her kitchen. A moment later he found her honey and pulled the creamer from the fridge. “You can't blame them for trying, darling. You're a beautiful woman. Any man who could stir you to passion would be a lucky man, indeed.”

She blushed under the flattery and looked away. “But that's the problem. They all try, they all want to, but they touch me and I don't feel anything. Even the faintest attraction dies almost instantly. It's like there is this ideal in my head that just wont...” She dug her fingers into her scalp and suddenly, his hands smoothed over them. She almost jerked in surprise. He scarcely touched her, because the first time they'd touched she'd felt something like static electricity and avoided it every moment after that.

This time was no different and it drug a startled gasp from her, even though his touch was unspeakably gentle, he caused sharp, electric jolts every time his fingers touched hers.

He withdrew, as if he'd realized what he'd done. “Sorry,” he said, with little emotion in his voice. “I forgot.” He turned his back to her, his palms resting on the counter. He didn't speak for a long time and she simply stared at his back. His shoulders were slightly broad, his blond hair was longer than was fashionable, and wasn't permed or crimped. It was simply tied back neatly, high on his head. Some of the shorter bits stuck off wildly. His black shirt seemed to accentuate how slim he was, and his pants only proved that point more clearly, showing off his trim buttocks.

The tea kettle starting to shriek drew her from her thoughts and she felt a faint flush color her cheeks. She would have to be stupid to try to start something with her neighbor. After all, if she did and felt nothing, she wouldn't be able to live hear any more, for fear that she would see him again. She would be humiliated.

“What's the real problem, Sarah?” He was pouring water into the two mugs and she watched him dress a serving tray that she didn't even realize she had. “Come on, we'll talk in the living room,” he offered. She wasn't certain why she followed him. It was her house, not his, and yet he was telling her where they'd talk. Once she was seated, he dressed her tea, and she realized he must have paid a lot of attention during their other discussions, because he did it exactly as she would have.

The action touched her and she glanced up at him through her lashes. “Thank you,” she managed, feeling timid and uncertain.

He gave her a funny look and dressed his own coffee with a scoop of honey and a large douse of cream, then leaned back, blowing on it to cool it. “Sarah, I've known a lot of women in my life, but I think you're quite possibly the most confusing.”

“Thank you?” She wasn't certain what that was supposed to mean, but she smiled and sipped her tea. “I think.”

He chuckled, drawing warmth from the cup. “Precious, you go out with a different man every week. You don't sleep with them, I'd know. Your room butts against mine. How far do you let them get, anyways? Some clumsy fondling in their car? The kiss at the door?”

She blushed darkly. “A kiss...Even after a kiss, I feel nothing...so I stop them.” There was a flash of something in his eyes, something dark, almost angry, but then it was gone so she thought she'd imagined it. “I don't know why I'm like this.” She sighed. “I just...need something. Something that they don't have. I don't know if it's excitement or what, but...” She shrugged helplessly.

He looked at her for a long moment. “So you go through these men like tissues, because they're missing something. Yet you haven't even tried to approach me like that,” the last part was spoken quietly, as if he were musing to himself. “You can scarcely stand to have me touch you.”

Her face flushed darker and she lowered her gaze. “I...”

He sighed and she blinked when she felt his hand upon hers. Again, that jolting feeling, something that caused her to jump, startled, whenever they had physical contact. “Are you afraid, Sarah? Are you afraid of feeling something? You say you want to, but I think that if you did, you would have tried with everyone you knew.”

“Are you telling me to try you out? Like test driving a car?” She set her tea down and stood, beginning to pace. “Look, to you it might seem simple. Let's say I do 'try with you', and I don't feel anything...” She felt herself nearly tremble apart. If that happened, then she'd really have to be broken, and he would just have to not talk to her again. “Fine, let's do it,” she snapped, turning towards him.

He was sitting, stretched out on her couch, his arms across the back, looking at her from beneath his lashes. She'd noticed before that they seemed impossibly long. He was sitting on the edge, just looking up at her, as though he were daring her to do it. There was a ghost of a smirk teasing his lips, and she stared at him, her throat seeming to close. Stiffly, she walked towards him, sat down, facing him on the couch and she knew there was a stubborn look on her face.

He just continued looking at her, smiling. It was a smug, irritating smile, one that was familiar and not, one that made her angry. She leaned forward and kissed him, just a peck of a kiss, then retreated, startled by the electric feeling on her lips. Now that was curious.

“You call that a kiss,” he inquired. “Well, darling, if you kiss every man that way, it's not a big surprise you feel nothing.” With that, his hand slipped behind her neck and he was leaning into her, invading her space and staring into her eyes.

That was when she noticed that one of his pupils was dilated almost fully and the other seemed set at a fixed state. It was slightly eerie. His eyes flicked down and she realized he was looking at her mouth, but she couldn't concentrate, because that electric feeling was on the back of her neck and then on her mouth once again. This time, however, it wasn't just a peck. He slid his lips against hers with a skill that made her heart do a curious twist and before she could stop herself, she had reached up, grabbing the collar of his shirt to drag him closer still.

He retreated, she chased him, her mind solely focused on more. More of that electric tingle, more of the slickness of his mouth sliding against her own. She felt his hand leave her neck and they were on her waist, and suddenly she was sitting astride his lap and kissing him and he was leaning back against her couch, letting her kiss him.

Suddenly stunned, she jerked away, her balance upsetting, and she would have met the floor, but his arms closed around her and she found herself against his chest instead. His breath was as rough as her own, and his hand gently stroked her hair. The pace was soothing, but she noticed the faintest tremble in his hands. “See,” he said, and she thought she heard a tremble in his voice as well.

She would have answered, but she was relatively certain that she would say something stupid. So she just nodded her head, keeping her hands where they were, gripping his shirt collar. She shifted and noticed that her panties felt oddly cold and damp and she flushed, realizing that it was from her. She lifted her head, stared at him in surprise. “You...think that would happen with anyone that kissed me like that?”

He arched a brow, confused. There was something in those eyes, that dark, almost angry thing, again. “I don't see why not,” but his voice was faintly cold.

She touched her lips lightly with one hand, and then sat back on his knees, pondering that. That just wasn't possible. Other men didn't cause that electric sensation when they touched her. Was that because at some point she'd fallen for her neighbor? But this had been a problem long before she'd met Jared King, so that didn't seem right. “Kiss me again,” she said quietly.

His eyes met hers, somewhat exasperated, but also there was something else there. “Why?”

She met his gaze and saw something in them, almost pain. She didn't care to think about that much, so she grabbed his collar and kissed him again. She felt his fingers dig into her waist, where they were resting, and when his tongue slipped into her mouth, she gave a little moan that she couldn't suppress. He tore away from her, his eyes burning into hers. “What are you playing at?!”

She shook her head, kissing him again and this time, he moaned and suddenly, she was crushed against his chest by one arm around her back and a hand at her hip. She felt something pressing against her through her pants and his and she pulled back this time, staring down at him in surprise. Her brain, which had been racing with the sudden tidal wave of hormones, stopped dead and identified what exactly that was and she stared into his burning eyes. “Jared,” she gasped, a flush rising to her cheeks.

He leaned forward, his lips catching hers this time, his tongue thrusting into her mouth, his hands restlessly shifting over her back until he gripped her hips and thrust against her, causing her to nearly blank out. She cried out, mindless, thrusting back into him. She gasped his name, felt his hands slip beneath her shirt, and that tingle, that electric feeling of his skin against hers made her cry out, her head falling back. She felt...

Hot. Wet. Needy.

She wasn't sure if she liked that or not, but his lips were on her neck now and she decided that she didn't care, because she felt something, and it was good. She gripped the back of his neck, gasping against his lips as he continued to assault her own. She continued to meet his thrusts, pantomiming the motions of sex, and she felt herself coming apart. “Oh, oh...” She wasn't sure how she managed to whimper against his lips, but something was happening, and she didn't know what. “Please...oh, please...”

“Yes,” he confirmed, and suddenly, he tore his lips from hers, staring up at her, a desperate look on his face. There was something aching about that expression and it silenced, shocked her. She didn't have time to dwell on it, however, because suddenly, they came together again and her vision whited out and she collapsed against the man who held her.

She came back to reality slowly, finding herself still cradled against the man who had just driven her nearly completely mad. Her breath hitched, and for a moment, she thought she might cry. However, the hand that gently stroked her back comforted her and she glanced up at him, seeing a stricken look on his face. He looked worried, not casual at all, but there was something else there, a sense of victory. “Sorry,” she mumbled, and started to sit up.

He let her, but didn't move to hurry her along. “Sarah,” he said softly. “Was that the first time you've ever-”

She flushed darkly, looking away from him. Quickly, she moved off his lap, then grabbed her now lukewarm tea. “I've...tried before. But...I only could by myself.” She felt ashamed, simply cupping the tea between her hands. “It's the first time I've blacked out,” she admitted.

His long fingers swept back some hair from her shoulders, then cupped her chin. There was something else there now, a possessive glint in those blue eyes that surprised her. Quickly, she looked away. He didn't chastise her, didn't seem to move, but then a moment later, he took her tea from her and she was surprised to find herself back on his lap, facing him. She blushed, trying to lower her face, but his hands caught it, cradling it with a care that surprised her. “Why are you acting ashamed?”

She stared into his intense eyes and was startled. She could see the faintest hint of make-up there. “Did your band have a set tonight?” She asked, curious. This evening was the closest she'd ever been to his face.

He looked bemused until she lightly touched the corners of his eyes. “There's make-up here...I don't think you quite got it all off.” He sighed, giving her an exasperated smile and tugged her against his chest, one hand stroking her hair, the other snug around her waist. She felt oddly content, except for one thing.

Her pants were soaked. The chill air was causing them to grow quite cold where they were wet as well. She shifted in discomfort and heard the man who held her moan softly. She pulled back, looking at him through wide eyes. “Sorry?” She offered, but he shook his head.

Something must have drawn his eyes down, because he stared for a long time at her thighs and then he chuckled softly. “That can't be comfortable,” he said, and one hand lightly touched her jeans, close to her center, right at the edge of a large damp spot. She flushed in embarrassment, but she didn't have long to feel it, because suddenly, her seat shifted his grip and stood up and she realized in shock that he was carrying her as if she weighed less than a feather.

She gave a squeak and wrapped her arms around his neck tightly and held on for dear life. She couldn't lie, however. Her position deeply appealed to the little girl who'd pretended to be a princess. She heard him chuckle and saw his hand open a door to what she knew to be the bathroom. “Do you want to get cleaned up,” he asked, his voice holding a teasing quality that made her look at his face as he set her on the vanity counter.

“What?” Again, she managed to speak, but she wasn't certain how, and the word was swallowed by his mouth.

He pulled back, faint regret on his face. “Tonight might be the only night you give me,” he said softly. “So let me have all of it.” His hands found the bottom edge of her shirt and he drew it up her slowly, and she realized he meant to undress her.

She put her hands on his shoulders to stop him. “What are you talking about?”

He stared at her, his eyes burning with something. “Do you think that I come over here to be a friend, precious? Do you think it is your companionship alone I desire? I hope, I've always hoped, that you would look at me and see something that you didn't see in the others, that just once, you'd give me a chance to have you.” He finished pulling her shirt over her head and she quickly covered her barely veiled breasts.

“Jared, I-”

He leaned forward, kissing her, as if afraid that she would say something that would make the possibility of them continuing suddenly vanish. “I love you, Sarah,” he breathed against her skin. “I do not simply want your body, I want all of you. I want the mind,” he kissed her forehead. “I want the heart,” he kissed over where hers beat. His hands pulled her own away from where she shielded them. “Give me this night, even if you go back to your other men after, give this night to only me.”

She opened her mouth to answer, but his lips found her nipple, erect in the chilly air, and she hugged his head tighter to her chest. Almost against her will, her legs wrapped around his hips and she felt him, hard and ready, through their pants once again. The cold of her own, however, distracted her and she shifted in discomfort. He withdrew, and his hands found the fly of her jeans, snapping open the button and slipping down the zipper before he slid them down her legs, getting onto his knees before her. The image of him kneeling there almost shattered her. His lips ghosted against her hip and she almost went to the ground with him. She braced her hands on his shoulders, trying to remain upright.

He stood after her pants were off completely and he didn't move. His eyes simply swept over her, and she found herself suddenly having great difficulty breathing. After a moment, he turned, turned the water on and then the shower sputtered to life with a wheeze. The noise made her jump, even though she knew it happened each time her shower was turned on. Then, she watched him slowly pull his t-shirt over his head.

His chest was smooth, unmarred, and lean, hard muscle stood out against the skin. Slowly, she reached forward, touching his skin lightly. Then, in echo of what he'd done to her, she kissed his forehead, his heart, then his mouth. He stared at her, his expression thunderstruck, and then he pulled her against him, his lips finding hers as his hands began sliding over her once again. She gasped against his lips, that electric tingle shooting straight down to the space between her legs. “Ah,” she managed, tangling her hands in the lose hairs.

His hand slipped over her nipple and she pressed her chest into his hand, a soft gasp escaping her lips. He moaned into her mouth, and his fingers slipped down and down and “right there,” she whimpered, her head falling back as his lips scorched a path over her skin. The room was growing warm from the steam, and she was getting light headed. Finally, she managed to break away and hold him back for a moment. “The shower,” she managed to mumble, feeling shy and uncertain.

He panted for breath and she stared, unable to speak as he slipped out of his pants and underwear and she stared at him, her jaw hanging slightly from shock. “Oh...” slipped between her lips and he had the nerve to give her a smug smirk.

Her mind was rolling through all the anatomical impossibilities involving that and her, but suddenly she was lifted from the ground and plunked right into the shower. Blue eyes pierced hers and she felt her slightly chapped, cold thighs had warmed up quickly. Her mind wasn't making sense, and she knew it, but she started rambling. “You're like a hormone or something,” she whispered. “You touch me and I seem to completely forget myself.”

“I was about to say the same thing,” he murmured in a husky rasp. She closed her eyes, suddenly afraid.

“Jareth,” she whispered, not fully aware of what was happening anymore, just feeling his hands caressing her, his lips brushing lightly over her skin.

He moaned softly, and his fingers slipped down, cupped her head and suddenly she felt the brief pain of invasion and she whimpered, grabbing his hand and stopping him. He withdrew, looking at her, his face obviously confused. Then, understanding dawned on him and there was that vicious victory in his eyes. Suddenly he was on his knees before her again and he leaned forward, his lips drawing static shocks over her skin, until she thought she was going to either cry out for him to stop or beg him to continue.

He looked up at her, his eyelashes spiked, his hair more wild from being knocked from it's confinement. She noticed that rather than growing fainter, the make-up on his face seemed to be growing darker, and he looked different, more feral, not entirely...human. However, he didn't give her time to dwell on that, because one moment he was looking up at her through the haze of lust and the next his tongue was sliding against her, his lips kissing her, his teeth scraping against her most sensitive flesh and she cried out in pleasure and her hands immediately gripped his hair.

“You called me Jareth,” he whispered against her, his voice causing vibrations in her that made her head fall back and all she could do was whimper and cry out to him.

She couldn't think, she couldn't fight him. She knew that he would be in her bed after this, and that thought made her wail in helpless pleasure. “Yes,” she begged. His fingers slipped against her, inside her, moving more gently and she writhed, trapped against the wall. She knew she was coming apart again and she couldn't help but get loud. Her hands were fists in his hair, not letting him pull away from what he was doing to her.

Then, her vision went white once again as she pleasure condensed and she screamed as she came.

Somehow, somewhere, she heard water shut off, and she felt arms around her, carrying her from the bathroom. She didn't feel cold, however, despite her damp skin. At first, when she opened her eyes, she thought the walls were gray stone warmed by firelight, but then she saw just white washing and her lamp beside her bed was on. She flushed, because her room was not something that suited a woman in her mid-twenties.

But he wasn't looking at her room, he was looking at her. His eyes were hungry, desperate, yearning. His hand slid from her hip to her ribs in a slow lingering caress. “I said earlier that I wanted tonight, even if it was all I could ever have. I changed my mind.”

For a moment, she was afraid, felt like he was going to leave her. She reached forward, gripping his arm, feeling the muscles flex beneath her touch. He leaned down and his lips were on hers and she realized in horror that she had become addicted to him; to his taste, to the electricity that followed his touch and kiss. His hips were against hers, his legs between her own.

“I want you forever. Every night, until the stars fall from the sky,” he murmured against her lips, his hand finding the space between her legs and his fingers touched her slick entrance. “Say yes, Sarah.”

It was a command, but she couldn't refuse. “Yes,” she moaned, arching into his touch.

She almost screamed as he pushed into her, still feeling too sensitive after everything else. She dug her nails into his arms, feeling his skin break under the pressure and she nearly sobbed against him. Then, he was moving inside her and she threw her head back, pushing against him as he thrust into her. It was much more than what happened on the couch, more than in the shower.

This was a possession, she felt as though he were trying to take more than her heart and mind, it was like he was trying to burn himself into her soul, to become a part of her so that they couldn't be apart again-

Again?

Her eyes opened and she stared at the man who was leaning over her. He wasn't kissing her, he was just staring down into her face as he took her body and suddenly she felt a slash of fear in her for just a moment as she recognized the face that in all the years she'd lived as his neighbor she had not recognized. “Jareth,” she whispered, and his eyes sharpened and he leaned forward, kissing her lips, gently.

His eyes were smiling and all she could do was try to cope with the knowledge finally settling around her. No longer were the walls whitewashed, no longer was her lamp lighting the room. Now the room was larger, imposing gray stone. Warm light from candles and fire countered the cold stone, and the bed was no longer the twin-sized bed from her apartment. It was huge, covered in wine-colored silk. She stared up into his eyes, until she felt him do something unbearably pleasing and then she closed her eyes, her back arching, her hands fists in the sheets. She moaned his name, tears piercing her eyes.

“Yes,” he breathed against her skin. “Yes.” His lips found hers and she opened her mouth, completely surrendering to him. She knew he felt the surrender, because his control snapped and all pretense of gentility was gone from him. She probably went a little crazy, too.

Even on the third time, she felt her vision whiting out, but not before she heard him cry out in desperation and he throbbed within her.

They may have lain like that for a year and she wouldn't have noticed or cared. Eventually, however, Jareth shifted, withdrawing from inside of her and she couldn't help moan faintly at the loss. He gave her a faintly smug grin made softer by his own obvious exhaustion. He lay, propped on his elbow, beside her, his eyes wandering over her in something like pride.

However, now she could see the stone turning pink from light outside the window and she felt uncertainty grip her. She sat slowly, letting her hair fall forward to shield her and she clutched her chest.

He seemed to sense her fears and sat as well, pressing a kiss against the exposed flesh of the back of her neck. “You are troubled,” he said quietly.

She hesitated and then shrugged. “More...confused. Like, why were you playing the starving rock-star in the apartment next to mine. To watch me struggle and fail, while knowing that...” She stopped herself.

He sighed. “I told you why last evening, precious. And for your information, I never lived in that apartment. I spent a few hours a night in it, enough to be close to you, to be there should you need me. If you'd not come over with the 'housewarming' gift, I would have stayed there, unable to touch your life, beyond making sure that you were safe.” He put his arms around her, pulling her back against his chest. Her eyes wandered over towards the window and she saw the little potted violet she'd bought her new neighbor sitting there on the ledge. She turned, staring up at him in surprise. She would have expected it to have died long ago. The things were not well known for thriving.

“And...after?”

He sighed, his cheek resting against her temple. “Darling, is it hard to understand that I love you? I watched you with your men, and I'll not deny that I was relieved that you never brought them into your room, into your life. That was something you apparently reserved for me, although you weren't aware it was me.” He chuckled. “Or maybe you were, just not consciously aware.”

She stared up at him, confused. “What?”

“Now and then, when you were distracted, you'd say 'Jareth'. It gave me hope.” He turned his face, kissing her temple lightly. “Last night when I went over, it had not been my plan to seduce you...or be seduced by you so much that I gave away my little secret. I thought...a few kisses, something to stir you up, get your interest, break the truth to you slowly...That was shot all to hell the moment you kissed me, and even though I knew I'd end up in your bed, it wasn't until you said my name that I knew that one night in your bed was never going to be enough...”

She swallowed hard. “So it was an accident? A mistake?”

“An accident?” He snorted in derision. “Darling, I've been dreaming of making you mine since you were a mere child of fifteen years. A mistake? Time will tell. I had not intended for it to go so far in a single night, but apparently when you touch me, I lose control of myself.” He smiled in faint amusement, but she suspected he wasn't laughing at her, or at them. “I had never suspected...I mean you're a young woman. I knew you tried to feel something with men, so I suppose I thought that you'd gone farther than simply kissing. Had I known, I would not have been so rough in the shower.”

She flushed, glancing away. Then, a guilty smile turned up her lips. “Well, at least I know why none of the other men could ever move me,” she said, then turned towards him. “I was too busy waiting for you.” He smiled at her, and it was a tender look. She leaned forward, kissing him gently. “Now what? Now that all this has happened, what do we do? Do I have to give up my family, my life, in order to have you?”

He closed his eyes, sighing softly. Then, his lips curled into a smile. “Darling, I would never ask you to give up everything for me. Just the other men.” He must have seen her blush, because he looked amused. “I'd say that what I've been doing should suffice, wouldn't you?”

She looked at him, curious. When he pulled her against his chest, she went willingly, snuggling back against him, enjoying the feeling of electricity racing across her skin as he lightly traced her shoulder.

“During the day, you live your life and I'll rule the kingdom. In the evening, barring any...personal responsibilities, such as family visits, ridiculous parties, or the like, we'll spend time either in your bed or mine,” he kissed her shoulder and she shivered in response to the touch.

“Hmmm, that sounds nice.”

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End