Labyrinth Fan Fiction ❯ Just Peachy ❯ One-Shot

Disclaimer: Well damnit… yet another thing I don't own, like all the characters from Labyrinth.

 

Auther's Note: OMG… it's not hentai. *gasps* Okay… I can do this. Anyways been reading a LOT of Labyrinth stuff lately and well this little idea dangled before my helpless eyes and dazzled me with promises of shinnies if written. Damn I'm such a fickle writer. Anyways please do read and let me know if it's a piece of crap or what not. It's my usual touch of angst but with a bit of fluff added in for that extra oomph. Oneshot

 

 

Just Peachy

 

She swore lightly as the pager beeped again, the annoying buzz seeming all the more loud for the close confines of the booth at their favorite Diner. It never failed; she'd finally gotten her best friend away from her social activities and her own work schedule for a casual lunch and BAM…. The small annoyance sounded again as the russet-haired young woman glared across the table at the frantic blonde digging through the bottomless pit she called a purse. Relentless and ruthlessly the black cased devil wailed till finally the girl gripped expertly painted fingers around the bit of plastic and machinery.

 

“Damnit, Leslie, can't we have even one moment without something coming up?,” she breathed out irritably her face resting against the palm of her hand, her elbow firmly and impolitely planted on the table as she stirred her straw about the glass disturbing the ice and what little remained of her soda.

 

“I'm sorry Sarah,” the blonde merely smiled apologetically as a loud exhale escaped her own pursed lips, her blue eyes flashing in the same echo of frustration and irritation. “I have to go…. It's my work.” Leslie hung her head in defeat, wisp of blonde hair falling into her eyes and shadowing her face. Canting her head to the side the blonde slowly raised her eyes to her friend, tried to paint her expression sheepish and apologetic as much as possible.

 

A slight smirk set to Sarah's darkly painted lips as she tossed the straw across the table at the rueful expression of her friend, she wasn't falling for it as a light spray of dark sticky liquid dotted the surface between them and spattered the offending girl's dark blue shirt. “You always do this,” a pout was forming across her own mouth, her disappointment cutting deep, but then she always knew it would happen, it always did. No one ever had time for her any more; no one ever remembered that Sarah needed attention too.

 

“Its not…” the last word caught in her throat, rang oddly in her head before she clamped her mouth shut and lowered her eyes, muttering softly, “I'm sorry for throwing the straw at you. You better go.” She bit back the sigh threatening to spill forth as she raised her glance unable to bring her eyes up and around to Leslie, afraid to show her the raw and unheralded loneliness and pain there in those shifting hazel depths.

 

“Look, I'll make it up to you,” the blonde pleaded softly eyeing the small device with great disgust as it buzzed again. She forcefully pushed the button, grumbling, “I hear you damnit.” Without further thought she threw the object back into her purse, not caring that she might miss or even break it as she turned sympathetic eyes towards the sullen and brooding girl.

 

“How about I pay for dessert…. Hmmm?” she piped in cheerily, trying to lighten the mood, though her shoulders slumped slightly, her body language speaking of her own disappointment at the interruption. She was already digging with renewed gusto into the black hole and retrieving a wad of bills.

 

“Ya, whatever, “ the young woman managed to sputter out as she slid from the booth, “just leave it at the table I'm going to the little girl's room.” Shoving her hands into her jeans, Sarah, didn't honestly need to use the restroom but it seemed the proper way to cut out without making herself into too much more of a drama queen and allow her friend to leave a little less guilt ridden. A good splash of cold water to the face was just what she needed to clear her head, force back the harsh reminder of yet another faux pas gathering.

 

Generic walls done in light creams, metallic silver stalls greeted her in absolved silence as she pushed through the swinging door with the little pink and white sign, the symbolic `female' adorning said sign the shape of a stick figure in a dress. It suddenly occurred to her that maybe this wasn't the women's restroom, maybe it was for cross dressers, I mean other than the dress the figure looked rather androgynous to her. And she's known a guy or two that wore a dress better than she did. Another cynical smirk tugged at her mouth as she took her hands from her pockets and turned to face the ordinary and sterile mirror that lined the wall before the three deep basin sinks.

 

Ignoring her reflection was automatic these days; she didn't like the person staring back at her. The pale flesh accented by brackish lipstick, the smoky eye make up giving her once lively hazel eyes a haunted cast. It didn't matter because more than not, she couldn't see it anymore, there was no face staring back at her inside the glass. Sometimes she swore there were other things, but it only gave cause to not look even more intently.

 

She'd become invisible even to herself, everyone around her had pushed her existence off to the side, forgotten and waylaid like an old tattered photograph faded away to nothing. Naturally it'd been ingrained into her how unsubstantial she was because well it was what everyone thought; she might as well follow their lead. Following along someone else's footsteps had become as normal as breathing. Maybe eventually she'd just disappear because no one would see; no one would know that Sarah Williams had ever been.

 

The water was blissfully cold as she bent over the sink, splashed a sparing amount of it into her face to not disturb her carefully painted visage. Her cupped hands dripped as she rubbed them over the desensitized skin with cautious ease. When had she stopped following her own dreams, it was a side thought, a narrow and meager inquiry quickly dismissed as she dried her hands beneath the blowers. The whooshing and loud clank that signaled the departure of the refreshing heat filled up the silence and played like a white noise symphony just for her.

 

Dessert was after all waiting for her; Leslie had always been good at least at that part of the deal. She could in the least look forward to some tasty bit of indulgence to dive into and focus on for the brief and fleeting pleasurable moment that it would last. It was a wonder she hadn't gained any weight as she'd turned to food for comfort, a pint of ice cream here, a rich and delectable chocolate bar there. Sweets were by far her ultimate weakness, a giddy little sinful gluttony.

 

Her mouth watered at the prospect as she strode back to her now empty booth, wiping her hands down the back of her faded blue jeans to make sure her palms were for the most part dry. Maybe it'd be a nice slice of cheesecake, or a delightful hunk of brownie smothered with ice cream. What awaited her turned her slow smile into a gradual frown as she stopped just before the bench. It seemed an eternity of ticking seconds and agonizing minutes as she stared in resolute horror at the concoction placed there for her. Steam rose pleasantly from the plate, began to melt the vanilla ice cream scoped generously atop the delicacy filling her senses with the sweetness of it.

 

“I'm going to kill you, Leslie,” she uttered darkly beneath her breath as she slide into the booth. Forgoing the odd looks of nearby patrons for her behavior at standing like an absolute moron staring in dumbfounded shock at the vacant booth, she quickly resumed her seat.

 

“Why does it have to be peach cobbler?” she asked bitterly to no one at all, her eyes narrowed down, her brows furrowed giving her a hooded menacing quality as if her glance alone could reek undue bodily harm upon the distasteful morsel.

 

For a single lucid moment as she glared almost crossed eyed at it she swore she heard laughter, like gallant wind flitted with glittery dust. She hadn't touch a single peach since that time, had sworn her lips would never again caress anything remotely resembling a peach. But here she was staring into the face of temptation and it was mocking her as the cream glided in smooth rivulets over the enticingly toothsome crumbled crust.

 

It hadn't registered coherently when her hand went for the fork, gripped the silver and moved to dip into the cobbler. The dismay elusive like a nymph running through the trees, captured and manifest too little too late as the first nectareous touched her dark lips. She wasn't entirely positive she wanted to fight against the pulling, the need to taste this time. She just wasn't that strong anymore.

 

The brisk clean taste of pure vanilla danced over her tongue cool and comforting just before being entwined and enhanced with the saccharine flavor of ripe and juicy fruit. “Why does it have to be so good, “ she could only whisper as her eyes fluttered closed, the contents washing warm and gratifyingly down the back of her throat muffling an ambrosial mewl at the tastes dancing over her palate.

 

The world spun behind her eyes, the light of the restaurant filtered and hazed through the suddenly heavy lids, delicately dark lashes resting against slightly flushed cheeks as a look of pure enjoyment and long forgotten peace fell over her features. The oddest sensation of floating bubbled up from her stomach, spread through her limbs in a weird and fascinating sense of duel perceptions of real and unreal. On the one hand she could feel the seat beneath her and on the other she felt as is she were descending, falling through the cracks of reality between motes of light and the heavenly intoxication of peaches.

 

Fragrantly pungent the cool caress of air across her flushed cheek no longer felt artificial, of softly pulsing bursts pushed through man-made vents above her but more of a genteel kiss fluttering and skimming over her flesh almost affectionately. Behind her smoky lids her eyes rolled as if caught in the deepest of R.E.M.s, spots of light spiraling into darkness before those hazel orbs snapped open.

 

Every sense told her that she was yet seated at the booth in the diner, another mouthful of cobbler being voraciously devoured but her eyes were clearly lying to her. The goose bumps marching up her arms at the feel of unknown winds had to have been false. Just as the scene stretching out surreal before her had to be nothing more than a falsity, an immaculate fictitious bit of imagery inspired by those damnable peaches.

 

“Why couldn't it have been cheesecake, hmmm?” she breathed out a hand raised to pinch the bridge of her nose as the feeling of the ground beneath her feet settled her more into the duality of her vision.

 

“Now, what fun would that have been?” a familiar and masculine voiced purred just behind her ear, his breath a whispering of warmth across the lobe, a ghosting of a sensation causing the small hairs at the back of her neck to rise in alarm. A soft shudder found its way up her spine as she turned her head to the sound of that low seductive drawl, but the disappointment cut deeper still as the spot lay empty despite the lingering impression of the nearness of his body upon hers.

 

“Jareth?” she called out uncertainly, the name falling from her lips so subtly she almost feared to speak it, feared the sacredness of invoking the Goblin King. Her breath hitched in her chest as she spun around, frantically taking in her surroundings. Forced her ears to strain and listen discontentedly to the murmur through the thick green hedges of the Labyrinth that now surrounded her.

 

Thundering like a maddened thing, her heart beat in a chaotic rhythm against her breast, welcomed and loathed all in the intensity of remembered fervor of a cat and mouse game once played out so long ago. Some part of her was again within the fairytale maze, though she couldn't fully wrap her mind around the prospect of it. A gift or a curse, she could not decipher which, for as much as she pined to see this place again she had also dreaded it.

 

“Come, come, Sarah,” she neither moved more allowed the shudder to sweep her again at the intimate fondle of his velveteen voice washing over her from the breeze, “Play with me.”

 

Strong and heady, she could taste his lightly mocking laughter like a bit of brandy on her tongue, rushing the heat with leather clad fingers into places within her that no mortal hand should ever have sway. It all felt so very real, so very touchable. Even the chill of the night around her bore into her exposed skin, the moonlight filtered through distant graying clouds leaving her eyes hungry for more fancifully pale delights.

 

A smile languidly curved her lips, she was tired of being wary, tired of being ignored and keeping safe, so she would play, she would throw herself head first just as she once had into a game of uncertain odds. Perhaps for only a moment, but she could become the blushing innocence again, let the weight of adult worries and troublesome maturity fall away as she caught movement rushing around a corner. It'd only been a fleeting glimpse of snowy cloth, but it was enough to insight a fire inside her spirit, set motion to her feet in flight after even just that tiny minuscule bit of whimsy.

 

“So you want me to play…” her lips twisted into a more devious grin, her hazel eyes sparkling with the briefest hints of playful mischievousness, “then, let's play.”

 

Like bubbling champagne the light and flighty laughter carried upon the swooning voices of the vegetation was contagious, coursing through her system like liquid honey, so sweetly tinted delightful, as akin to some glorious high. All around her the tinkling cadence of her own name echoed from every shadow, every leaf teasing and taunting her as she raced down one path and then the next in pursuit of an allusive prey. Mere flashings of sight, a reflection here, a swiftly retreating foot step there but never any closer into reach as she turned one corner, then the next and on and on in an eternal race.

 

It was purely maddening, brought the heat rushing into her cheeks with a violent flush of sudden anger. He was toying with her as He'd always done, putting that tantalizing bit of wanted desire just in view of her hungry eyes only to deny her. Just as all the others in her life had done, she was being ignored, was being lead about blindly and foolishly into something she couldn't understand or comprehend.

 

Her breaths labored, the muscles in her legs aching with the strain of running for so long, for it had been ages even if the whole of time had stopped, had paused in it's genteel breath just so that the moon could hang above her head in ethereal play of angelic halo to her position against her rival and devilish pursuit.

 

A scream in utter frustration tore from her throat, filled the night air with the heaviness of her sorrow, saturnine and bittersweet chasing back the wistful spirits of foolery once pulling her to needlessly driven hunt. She leant forward resting her hands on her knees, the gentle waves of her hair spilling forward over her shoulder and caressing with tickling fingers across her slightly damp face.

 

Lips parted she pulled in great draughts of air, relearning how to breath around the lump wedged in her throat and painfully apparent ache in her chest and soliciting the silence and stillness into her frantic form. It helped to clear her head of the heady drug filtering her senses, making her coherent thoughts more tangible and less inclined to flights of fancy.

 

She could feel it now, just as she once had so long ago in the macabre ballroom, filled with grotesquely mirthful dancers all leering and jesting at her seeming innocence. Could feel eyes upon her form, as if they'd never left her body, had always cradled and held her in their intensity, as if the rest of the world were dust and debris, so much utterly useless rubble. This familiar presence had never departed despite her blatant avoidance of it. She'd pushed it back, pilfered it and secluded it into the darkest recess to be forgotten, just as so many had done to her, shoved it down into her own little oubliette.

 

Rising to her feet with a distinctive sigh, she raising her eyes to the globe of the moon as the clouds lazily drifted over the celestial sphere. She was a fool, a complete moronic imbecile for not seeing the truth of it all. Never for a single moment had she been alone, there somewhere in the lurking shadows of night and fantasy was another lamenting beside her, ever vigilant through the drama of her years. Someone had always seen her, even if she couldn't view herself, and that made all the difference in the universe somehow at the moment. Her very being, her entire existence was corporeal because she lived in the eyes of a King.

 

A soft shake of the head and distant words played through her mind in gruff undertones, “You take too many things for granted.” Faintly her lips curled into a smile, warm and genuine as emotions colored the hazel of her eyes into liquid amber flecked with the green of spring grass at the awing of dawn. She wasn't alone anymore; she only had to accept the realization of the epiphany. She could do that, she would gladly do thus, letting fall into place the old foundations of hopes and aspiration long missed.

 

With a sense of self assurance she turned around, a feel of peace filling her up from the inside, sparking back to life something that had lane dormant and sleeping within the comfortable repression of her subconscious mind. She knew he'd be standing there if only she'd turn around now. No doubt, no clouded vision, nothing was ever what it seemed and she'd best remember that well.

The air crackled with his power, small motes of dust caught in the winds caressing with whimsical fingers over his enchanting form, making the light glitter ensorcelled with his virile presence. The breath stole from her lungs at the beauty of his ethereal handsomeness. The angular features of his finely boned face were haughty and playful with the promised kiss at the corner of his mouth teasing and pulling the thinly mouthed lips into a smirk. The pure white of fallen snow lay around his lithe body as if the flakes themselves could be molded to perfection to the fine and enticing lines of his lean and athletic physique.

 

About his shoulder lay a cape of white, the feathers and fur so diaphanous as to come not from any mortally made creature with such softness. Alabaster and cream, the smoothness of his muscular chest could be viewed from between teasingly gaps of the white poet's shirt, the fringe laying in artful creases to the masterpiece of design. Embossed and raised, leaves in swirling of carefree winds coursed through the light grey leather of the low necked vest buttoned tightly to mold to his form.

 

Strong and nubile legs bore skin tight breeches all the same pure shade of white, having the impression of being painted on and leaving every detail of his masculine stature boldly apparent to her roaming eyes. The only mar in all that perfect the stiff black leather of highly polished riding boots capped off at the knees. It was possible his exotic appearances could have been appreciated by her younger mind back them, but were once she was ignorant she was now painfully aware.

 

The thundering of her heart raced and fluttered in against her breasts just as his first whispered tauntings had stirred in her body. A slow shuddering breath escaped her lips, set flight to the rush of butterflies threatening to overfill her belly and explode out her pores in desperate need of release. The sparse light turned the platinum of his wild and unkempt hair into fine spun strains of moonlight, set it to caress his face like docile lovers stealing embraces in a hedonistic fashion. How she longed to be a strand of that thistle down mass clinging for a lingering moment to the curve of his epicurean mouth.

 

“You finally understand now,” his voice was nothing more than a low husky purr into the intimate spaces between them, sent shivers through the whole of her being, like softly pleaded innuendos of things that could have been, might still have been.

 

“Yes,” she could only answer meekly, her senses amuck with a dozen different sensations assaulting her conscious entity. It'd all become so clear when the burdens of worry and adult responsibility had been laid bare and wanton behind for even the briefest of reposes. She'd never been on at a loss for words, but she suddenly found her tongue to laden to voice the dozen questions running with lurid shades through her mind. An agile movement of fingers and from the nothingness a perfect crystal formed sat upon the tips of his fingers as his mouth pulled lasciviously into an invited grin.

 

The crystal danced over his finger tips as if it were nothing, a bit of light skirting the waves of a white ocean, cresting and falling over a sea of immortally skilled hands. Shimmering and dancing, it seemed to catch the light just thus displaying for her eyes a myriad of colors all like merriment of will-o-wisps frolicking in the wind. “I have a gift for you,” the slow drawl of his accented voice broke through her reverie, hypnotized by the sheer grace of his movements as if all again she were that flustered sixteen year old girl and not a woman of twenty-one years.

 

Blinking slowly to clear the sudden fuzziness of her head she let the cynicism of her mind take over and throw a smirk across the corner of her mouth, “Come on, I'm too old for that trick now,” her voice flavored with just a touch of mockery as she managed to even roll her eyes at the pure and simple audacity of the same bribery.

 

Ever the show of sudden defiance Sarah stood with feet slightly apart, fist upon hip and head held almost in a display of arrogance. With the whole of her being she was taunting him, from the warm amber flecks spilling through her hazel orbs to the outright smirk now openly overtaking her darkly painted lips, daring him to do something different, something new and unexpected.

 

No words passed between them as he extended the crystal as if in offering, another faint sound of disapproval issuing from the young woman's mouth. But where her expression was raw and unrefined his elegant features flowed and ebbed into the haughtiness of a born King. The thin and sensual mouth presenting a turn of the lips to both mark the passing of arrogance, laughter and in the finality a bit of approval. There again burning in the depths of those impassioned eyes was the Sarah he'd known, the young and noble spirit that had bested him at his own game.

 

His laughter rang, echoed over the stone, like the finest crystal honed to just the perfect pitch. A fluid snap of the wrist sent the ball upon his finger tips into the air with a spin, the light reflecting upon it's smooth and curved surface distracting her just enough for him to move soundlessly across the courtyard, closing that last few strides placing his own body before hers. A rewarding gasp crawled from Sarah's throat just before she felt the world again begin to shift and melt, seeping through one reality and into the next as his hand came up to cradle and cup her cheek.

 

The intensity of his mismatched eyes narrowed down upon her, drowning her until nothing but the heaven and earth of his gaze could possible be more real to her than the breath she drew in. Her lungs filled with the essence of him, a musk all his own mixed with the richness of leather, the tang of something wild and unkempt and under it all the fresh and ripen ardor of peaches still upon the tree. The brackish buds of her lips trembled, her breasts rising and falling to an unsteady tempo of exhilaration boarding on madness as he lingered there, a hairs breath from the parted portal of her mouth.

 

A tiny death, so melodious, so fleeting as his lips came down upon hers in one last parting kiss. The world exploded into a thousand points of aching pain and divine pleasure with the softness of that sensual mouth so pensively exploring the contours of her lips. His tongue darted out to taste the bitterness of her lipstick before pouring into the welcoming passage of her embrace, hungrily growing bolder. More insistent in his discovery as a faint mewling crawled in want of more from the woman's own throat as he thrust his tongue deep, playing the fleshy digit along her own and claiming that unique taste that was purely hers greedily for himself.

 

She could hardly breathe around the heated embrace, each being pulled from his own mouth, each leading her further from the warmth of his gloved hands and scorching across her mouth with the deliciousness of each sinfully deprived nibble. Perceptions shattered, painted in violent succession behind her eyes as the half light of moon and shadow gave way to the blinding illumination of overhead lights and tacky surroundings. Once more the bench firmly beneath her rear as it always had been and the pleasant scents of newly prepared foods enticed her from her half dream state.

 

A wistful sigh paraded her lips, brought forth the sugary scent of the cobbler still clinging stickily to her lips as the last bite found its way into her mouth. She had to wonder now if eating anything that involved a peach would invoke Him, and if it did, would she really mind? Perhaps it would not be so bad a thing to go running in a game of hide and seek through the eternal maze now and again, specially if she could win another gift as she could feel still tingling over her lips in heated infatuation.

 

The melody to a familiar song began to play softly from her hip, drawing her eyes down to the almost forgotten cell phone. Instinctively she pulled it free, flipped it open and put the piece to her ear. The voice that trailed her lips was languid, sweetly tainted euphoric as she answered, “Yes?”

 

The fork now long forgotten she leaned back into the booth, absently nodding to the waitress for another cup of coffee as the small plate was toted away. Sarah failed to notice the friendly smile the woman flashed her even as she parted, her numbed brain still reflecting upon the perfection of His kiss. She neither noticed nor cared for the stares her way at the almost drugged expression flitting over her features as she listened to the voice on the other end.

 

“Woah, damn that was either some good cobbler or you just got laid,“ Leslie's voice practically giggled from her end. She couldn't help keep the excitement from her voice at hearing the cheeriness behind the laden question. “You sure you're okay?” This time a chuckle echoed in the russet haired woman's ears before she sat forward, a grin creasing her mouth from ear to ear in fondness.

 

“I'm just …,” Sarah fumbled with the words for only a moment as she brought her fingers to her lips and ran them lightly in memory over the still tingling flesh, “….. peachy.” Yes, she had to agree with her statement for once in a long while. She was indeed feeling exactly that…. Just peachy.