Page 47 of First Snow
They cross the large ballroom, and Arttu tries to focus on Jareth’s broad shoulders instead of their surroundings. The room is an absolute chaos of grinding bodies in various states of undress. It’s a relief to Arttu’s overwhelmed senses when Lemaire leads them through a door and down another corridor, stopping in front of a set of large double doors.
“You need to cover your sub’s eyes and ears now. As you understand, the conversations at Lord Briar’s private table are confidential,” Lemaire says and gestures to a table with various blindfolds and earplugs.
Shit, shit, shit,he’s here to find out what’s wrong with Lord Briar, not to suck Jareth’s cock with his senses taken away from him while Jareth and Briar are possibly discussing the crimes Arttu came here to solve. He needs to hear what they’re talking about.
Lemaire looks up at him and appraises him with his uncanny, glowing eyes. He grins at Arttu through bared teeth.
“Unless you’ll allow us to do a background check on your sub. What’s his name again? Arttu…?”
“Arttu is none of your business,” Jareth growls.
He doesn’t even give Lemaire the fake last name that Arttu used when he first filled out the forms atThe Worship.
Arttu’s heart rate picks up despite Jareth’s protectiveness. Why would an English lord, however eccentric, screen the attendees of his fancy sex parties? Arttu’s fake identity will most likely satisfy a rough scrutiny. But he won’t pass a thorough examination, and Arttu has no idea what resources Lord Briar has at his disposal.
“You will not dig into my sub’s personal affairs,” Jareth continues coldly.
Arttu is glad it’s not him Jareth’s anger is directed at. Turning to him, Jareth’s stormy expression softens.
“How do you feel about a little sensory deprivation, sweetheart? You don’t have to agree. We can always retreat to our room. I won’t be disappointed.”
“No,” Arttu hastens to assure. “It’s fine.”
First, he has to get in that fucking room. He can worry about the earplugs later.
“Good.”
Jareth stalks towards the table and examines the offered devices. He picks up a silky black cloth, then he browses through the earplugs, but nothing seems to satisfy him. Jareth pulls a pair of earphones out of his pocket instead. What the fuck? Did Jareth know that he’d have to deprive Arttu of his senses? Does this mean heknowswhat’s going on with Briar?
“First, you’re going to put the earbuds in. Make sure they’re sitting properly,” Jareth says. His voice seems to come from far away, and Arttu struggles to concentrate. “I’m going to put music on. Tell me if it’s too loud.”
Arttu can do nothing but nod dumbly. He does as Jareth told him, glad that at least his hands aren’t shaking. Classical music fills his ears. It’s loud but not deafening. Jareth’s lips move, but Arttu can’t understand a word. Damn, Jareth knows what he’s doing.
The music stops.
“Are you okay, darling?”
“Yes, sir.”
“Good. Now I’ll blindfold you. Don’t worry, I won’t destroy your pretty mask. Then you’ll take my hand. You don’t have to do anything, just trust me to guide you.”
“Yes, sir.”
Arttu is taken aback by the breathless quality of his voice. Despite everything, he’s still turned on.
Jareth raises the cloth to cover Arttu’s eyes. Everything goes dark. The music starts again.
Arttu bites his lips to stay quiet. His muscles tremble from the effort to keep still. He needs to stay focussed and get rid of the earphones, but he isn’t sure if he’ll be able to achieve his goal. It seems to him like hours have passed since they’ve entered Lord Briar’s private party. Arttu only knows that they’re sitting at a wooden table, probably a large one, and Jareth is talking to someone. Arttu knows that with absolute certainty because he’s sitting in Jareth’s lap. He can feelthe rumble of Jareth’s words where his back is pressed against his Dom’s chest. And, of course, there’s the small fact that he’s impaled on Jareth’s cock.
Arttu’s head falls back on Jareth’s shoulder, and he stifles a moan. It would be so easy to lose himself in the sensation of Jareth inside him, in the heady knowledge that there are others who can see him like this, warming Jareth’s cock like a whore—no, like aslave. The thought shouldn’t make heat pool in his gut, shouldn’t make him shudder all over.
Jareth’s hand comes up to play with his nipples. Each sharp flash of pain-pleasure has Arttu arching his back and grinding down on Jareth’s cock. He twists to press his face against Jareth’s neck, muffling his pants against Jareth’s soft hair.
Finally, the music that drowned out his senses gets softer. He has nuzzled against Jareth’s shoulder a hundred times already to make the earbud slip, so often that he thought his efforts were in vain. But now it finally moved. Rubbing his head against Jareth’s shoulder again, he loosens it some more. Jareth punishes his squirming with a roll of his hips that makes Arttu’s breath stutter. Then Jareth’s hand closes around his throat, and he pins Arttu in place. Arttu can now hear that a soft, mewling sound escapes his lips, making Jareth chuckle.
“Is he under your thrall?”
Arttu can barely understand the thin voice because of the music still ringing in his ears. He guesses it must be a male speaker, not Lemaire whose voice is much deeper. Lord Briar, then.