Bound

o n e

Sarah lay, the silvery white sheets folded about her, clinging to the softness of her skin, strands of her darkly contrasting hair falling upon the pillow beneath her head, and into the liquidity of the sheets, that gave her the security that helped her to sleep.

The sheets reminded her of Jareth. They reassured her for that reason. They were smooth, caressing, gentle, beautiful. All things she associated with her husband. Which was why she held them so close about her pale nakedness, when he was gone. She moaned softly as she slept, the covers falling gently from one thigh, exposing more of her skin to the moonlight, her fingers gripping the sheets slightly tighter.

Marrying a King, she had quickly discovered, had its many sacrifices. Business visits, social appointments - They all took her lover away, kept him busy, stole away the caress of his lips for days that seemed endless. Nights that seemed longer.

He was away this night. Far from her - on the other side of the Underground. Which was why, as she felt the reality of the bed sinking beside her, the sensation slipping through into her dream consciousness, she still believed it only a dream. She didn't protest as careful, soft long fingers tilted her head to the side, as she felt the fabric pass over her face, cover her eyes. It was only as she felt the pressure of the band of fabric being tied at the back of her head, that she started. She gasped quietly as she sat up, holding the sheets so that they draped securely above her chest, drawing a deep breath as it dawned on her that she had been blindfolded. Slowly, she smiled. Her smile was sweet, feminine, and warm, as her dark hair fell, glossy, about her face.

"Jareth..." she whispered longingly. "You're back early..."

The beautiful blonde man, who was already so familiar with her body, smiled, leaning over her, and placing a finger over her full lips in a simple gesture. Sarah's heart raced. She let the sheets about her body fall, exposing her beauty willingly, and reached her hands out, her fingers outstretched, desperate to touch her lover.

Nothing.

"Ja..."

"Shhh..." replied a quiet voice. Sarah felt herself being eased, by strong, gentle, completely unhesitant hands, onto her stomach. Her wrists were encircled by slender fingers, and brought together behind her back. She felt the pressure upon them, as they were unmistakably bound together, the same soft material that blinded her, being wound methodically about her wrists, and secured with perfect skill.

She trembled helplessly with desire. He couldn't take his eyes from her. Shaking, naked, bound and completely his now, looking wonderfully dishevelled, and somehow flawless, simultaneously. Radiating innocence, after all this time...

His eyes were dark. Blue, sparkling, burning ice. When his fingers traced the curves from her waist to her thigh, she trembled even more violently. He was finally touching her. She wanted to die from the perfection, when his lips joined his fingers, now just at the base of her spine, marvelling pleasurably at the coolness of his lips, the way his hands now slowly trailed upwards, to her breasts, that were pressing  against the silk bedcovers beneath her. Fingers wrapped gently around her neck, his other hand now reaching downwards toward her thighs, slowly easing them open, ever silent. Long fingers teased the sensitive flesh of her inner thighs, his lips touching her neck, his breath gentle against her skin, as the fingers of his other hand moved closer towards her warmth, the silk beneath her navel already stained with her desire.

She couldn't understand just why she was trembling quite as much as she was. Her lover gave her everything... Pleasure, security, love... But she felt insecurity, along with a fresh lust that slashed mercilessly through her body like a blade, beyond the fact that she was bound and blind for this assault of love.

She groaned, loudly, breathless and desperate, and very suddenly, something changed.

The hand at her thigh pressed hard against her skin, wrapping around and lifting her leg high, parting her wider, her knee bent upwards towards her stomach, and she felt a firm leg press between her thighs from behind. His knee pushed roughly up against her naked wetness in unchecked desire, causing her to cry out in thoughtless pleasure, teeth grazing her neck as lips parted, a soft tongue swirling over her skin, his fingers still wrapped around her throat.

Then Sarah's world began to spin. Desire was mingled with a dawning horror. Cool fingers made their way slowly down her stomach, slipping between her legs, touching her. She gasped, trying with all her will to speak.

The reason for her sudden shock was simple, as his leg, clad in cool, smooth but ambiguously rough material, pushed harder between her thighs from behind, his hand between her legs, the tip of one finger slicking slowly around her clit torturously. She arched up away from it, but was unable to stop him, still sobbing with desire beneath him, as her revelation became clearer, the quiet, cold and dark laughter beside her ear soft, but hitting her like a blow to the stomach.

Jareth didn't wear leather.

t w o

The sky was a hazy, dark abyss. Not a single star was visible above him, but it didn't matter. His vision was slowly dissolving into darkness regardless. Jaden preferred to concentrate on the black night, however. It detracted from the cold, solid wetness of the ground beneath his body, and the searing pain inside him, proof of which was the steadily flowing crimson that pooled grimly around him. It clung to his golden blonde hair, which was boyishly short again, now that the illusory magic of his old self had worn off. It was spattered over the fine lines of his jaw and cheek, drying to a darkened colour, tainting his beauty.

One last chance, he'd decided. To survive. He'd gathered enough fae magic, before Jareth's sword had sliced deep into his body, and his heart. Just enough, through the overpowering need inside Jaden to exist, to take himself from the castle. Only it hadn't worked in quite the way he'd hoped. It had acted too slowly.

He now lay, dying, but not yet dead, as Jareth had assumed. He lay in a small, dark side street, in a decidedly nasty part of London. It had been raining that night; the ground was soaked beneath him. His blood mingled with the rainwater, and it sparkled in dim, morbidly pretty illumination.

His magic had worked, yes, but he could do no more. He knew he was beyond help, but though his consciousness was fading, he still managed to reserve a place inside his bleeding heart for his hatred. It was stronger than ever. He was proud of his brother, in a slightly perverse way. He'd actually managed to go through with it; executing him, even refusing to fall for Jaden's false display of vulnerability at the very end. He'd grown stronger.

Jaden choked, and felt blood, warm on his lips. His eyes were giving way, closing, tempting him to give in and let death take him. The only reason he'd stayed alive this long was because he was fae, but even so, his body was losing the battle, swiftly now. Everyone was equal in death. And Jaden, despite all he was, was helpless.

What he wasn't aware of, was the fact that his saviour was just rounding the corner of the dark street. He was also unaware, that his saviour was to be a true angel of death.

The sweet scent of Jaden's blood drew Silven closer, his instinct shark-like, and equally as dangerous to his prey. The blood smelled potent, and he obeyed his bloodlust sharply. Silven was very tall, thin, his skin almost silvery-pale. His hair was deep jet, long, with flecks of cherry-red running through it. He looked just as sweet, too. Pretty lips, full, carefully painted black. Long black lashes beneath sweeping dark red eye shadow, his eyes lined painstakingly in black. Black fishnet was stretched across his chest, the sleeves of the garment long. His trousers were black, covered in rows of silver buckles, right down to his boots.

He smiled as he walked closer towards where Jaden lay, tilting his head childishly to better view the beauty of the blood glistening under the hazy light pollution. Silven could smell the death in the air, but knew the man would stay alive just long enough to taste him. As he looked down at Jaden, standing right above him now, his smile widened. Not only did this one have very powerful blood, but also despite his wound, and the blood covering his body, he was the most gorgeous thing Silven had seen for a lifetime. His chest moved very, very slowly up and down with each breath, his blue eyes open, though he was incoherent, and didn't seem to see the vampire that lusted after him in two quite different ways.

Silven's streak of childishness came blazing to the surface, and he felt a great urge to stamp his foot on the ground, though he didn't. If the man wasn't dying, he might have been able to take a little more than his blood. He'd have liked that, and it angered him that he couldn't have his way. But maybe...

His blood was very strong. He radiated power even when at the end of his life. Silven hadn't turned anyone to darkness for a while... And he had no doubt that this one would make a powerful addition to their group. He'd made his decision.

Quickly, so he wouldn't be too late, he knelt down beside Jaden, and bent his head down towards his throat. Holding him steady, Silven sank his fangs deep into Jaden's skin, and carefully drank just enough of his blood so as not to kill him just yet, since his death was already so close, but enough to make the exchange possible. Then, slicing open his wrist easily with the sharp tip of a fang, he let his own vampiric blood flow into Jaden's mouth.

At first, he choked, and some blood trickled out of the side of his mouth, but then, more quickly than they usually did, Silven noticed, instinct took over, and Jaden began to swallow his gift down, letting it flow inside him.

Made temporarily stronger with this new blood, though still lacking any real coherence excepting instinct, Jaden reached up and slowly wrapped his fingers around Silven's wrist, pulling him closer, his lips parting over the wound, beginning to drink in earnest. Silven's eyes flashed darkly as Jaden drank, feeling the surprising strength in his grip, concentrating on the feeling of the man's lips moving over his skin. He felt a burning inside his stomach, and realised he was beginning to grow hard. He couldn't help it, but it wasn't helped by the fact that Jaden's blood coursed freshly inside him, and also, Silven found the act of being drunken from himself shockingly erotic for a vampire.

Finally tearing his wrist from Jaden's grip, Silven stood, and took a step back from the man who lay on the floor. He wanted to watch it happen.

The new blood inside Jaden seemed to permeate his system quickly, and the scream, as his mortal life departed, was feral and sharp, echoing softly afterwards, in the darkness. But then, under Silven's transfixed gaze, something else began to happen. But too quickly, thought Silven. The blood on Jaden's body began to fade, finally disappearing, the fatal wound in Jaden's chest closing up, as though nothing had ever happened. The only evidence of the cold metal of Jareth's sword was the tear in his shirt.

His eyes being shut tight as the pain had subsided, Jaden then opened them slowly. Silently, he stood. Ignoring the vampire in front of his for the moment, he looked down at himself, surveying the damage, brushing his shirt down with long pale fingers. Paler than they had been.

He seemed, Silven thought, to be calmly analysing what had happened to him, to his body. Finally, with a subtle, fanged-smile, he looked up at him. With the slight air of an embarrassed schoolboy, Silven smiled back. Brushing his hand though his dishevelled hair to straighten it, Jaden walked towards him.

"Jaden." he said simply, holding his hand out to the other vampire, his lips still curved in that dark unnerving smile.

"Silven." he replied, taking Jaden's hand, shaking it, a little bewildered. He could feel the power inside Jaden, just from the touch of his hand.

"I should thank you, Silven." said Jaden, quietly, bringing his hand up, and moving his fingers into his long hair, his eyes flickering over his form. "Aren't you pretty." he continued, with slight amusement in his voice, though not mocking, but with real appreciation.

A sensual smile slowly curved Silven's lips in response to Jaden's comment. Things were going very much to his satisfaction, and lust was apparent in his eyes. Which was why, when Jaden leaned closer, he didn't move away. Which was why, when Jaden gripped him hard by the shoulders, and bent his head to tear into his throat with his fangs, Silven wasn't quick enough to stop him.

In ten seconds flat, Jaden had hungrily drunk Silven dry, despite his blood-curdling screams. The vampire ended, thrown on the floor, a shriveled, bloodless mess, barely skin and bones.

Jaden turned from him, uncaring, licking a spot of blood from his upper lip, a cruel smile on his face. The intense, powerful hunger he'd felt as soon as he'd been born into darkness was satisfied for now. His eyes fixed on a few glittering lights far away in the city, he began to walk towards them, feeling as though his whole body was burning with this new power. Alive, undead - it was all the same to Jaden. For him, survival was enough.

But this was more. He was stronger, he could feel it. Fae and vampire blood when mixed... Now that could produce something powerful indeed. A shame that vampire hadn't known that, mused Jaden, smiling, and reaching one hand up towards his lips. His fangs felt good inside his mouth. Powerful. He felt like an efficient weapon, a machine produced for execution, and that made Jaden feel all... warm and fuzzy, inside. Tilting his head to the side slightly, his eyes lit up as he parted his lips and touched one sharp white fang with the tip of a finger. His finger bled for a moment, and he tasted it with a smile, before the wound swiftly closed. They were brilliantly sharp.

Buzzing with power and blood, taking in the darkness around him with a deeper understanding, he continued to walk towards the glistening lights. He realised something that pleased him. For the moment, as least until a little later, he couldn't give a fuck about Jareth.

After all, he had a city to play with first...