Page 21 of First Snow
He’s rewarded with a long-suffering sigh. “I’m staying at a B&B over in Park Lane, if you must know.”
A self-satisfied grin slips onto Jareth’s face.
Arttu regards him with a sour glare.
“Now, don’t look so smug, I didn’t hand you the keys to my apartment.”
“Yet.”
“Oh, fuck off.”
“I’d rather fuck you.”
Arttu opens his mouth, clearly to reply something snarky, but starts coughing violently instead, a deep blush settling on his face. He’s unbearably cute when flustered. Jareth pats him on the back until the worst has subsided.
“Did you choke on your own spit?” Jareth asks as soon as he thinks Arttu is breathing properly again. This time Arttu only grumbles something under his breath.
“Seriously, though, why don’t you stay? I’m sure I can offer you better accommodations than this B&B.”
Arttu levels him with a piercing gaze. Jareth realizes with some chagrin that he has a thing for the cold gray of his eyes.
“Are you expecting compensation for your hospitality?” Arttu asks. He doesn’t sound accusing, but not particularly thrilled about the offer, either. Oh, Jareth likes his bluntness.
“As I said, I’d like to play with you again, but you’ll have to come to me willingly. I have no intention of pressuring you into anything, if I haven’t made that clear already. You’re still my guest and you’re welcome to stay till the end of your visit.”
Arttu looks at him as if he’s searching for something in Jareth’s face. Jareth isn’t sure if he’s found it, but finally Arttu drops his gaze, his shoulders sagging slightly.
“Okay.”
“Okay?” He hadn’t expected Arttu to give inthateasily.
“Yeah, it’s fine.”
“You don’t sound particularly fine.” Damn, he shouldn’t have pressured him like that. Now Arttu has got this forlorn expression again, and Jareth doesn’t know what to do with it.
“Seriously, why do you always have to question what I tell you? I thought you wanted me to stay.”
“All right. You’ll stay. Do you want to go for a walk before lunch?”
Arttu shakes his head. “I’ll go to the B&B and pick up my stuff.”
“I can send someone to fetch your things.” Jareth doesn’t even have to think about it twice.
Arttu makes a strangled noise. His horrified expression is somewhat cute. “No way am I going to allow one of your cronies to sort through my underwear.”
“I can send Annikki. She has no interest in men’s underwear, I can assure you,” Jareth says just to see Arttu squirm some more. He enjoys seeing him flustered.
“Are you making fun of me?”
“Possibly. But I also don’t want you to have to carry your suitcase all the way.”
Arttu turns around and kneels between Jareth’s legs again. The blush on his high cheekbones suits him well, as do the white flecks of foam in his hair.
“Do I look like I can’t carry a suitcase for a few hundred meters?”
Jareth runs his hands admiringly over the muscles on Arttu’s arms. He might be on the short side, but he’s compact; strong and athletic, without being overly built. Jareth likes it. And of course he doesn’t think Arttu would be physically challenged by the task, but Jareth doesn’t like having him do something as mundane as picking up his luggage. The dark, possessive part of Jareth, the part that isn’t entirely human, wants to spoil Arttu. He wants to keep himright here.
“Get your luggage if you must. But I can still order you a cab.”