Page 67 of First Snow

“Fuck,” Jareth rumbles, finally kissing him back.

Arttu loses himself for a few blissful minutes in the push and pull of their tongues. He neither cares about the needy little sounds he makes, nor about the shameless way he’s grinding down on Jareth’s lap. He needs any touch, any friction he can get against his cock, anything Jareth is willing to give him.

Breaking off the kiss with a mournful sound, Jareth retreats as far as the armchair will allow. He holds Arttu back by the shoulders when he wants to follow him.

“This is unwise. I shouldn’t be taking advantage of you.”

Arttu groans in frustration. “You haven’t enthralled me, as you put it. I’m—I’m just horny okay?”

“Just horny?” Jareth echoes. “No, you think I won’t kill you if you keep me entertained.” Arttu wants to contradict him, but Jareth cuts him off. “Don’t you dare deny it! You may be aroused now, and you enjoyed what we did inThe Worship, but you are quite capable of enjoying a little sexual gratification while you do your job, and keep your supposed serial killer in line.”

Arttu shivers. Jareth isn’t wrong, but he isn’t right either. This whole mess is just so confusing. Arttu isn’t afraid of Jarethper se, but he doesn’t trust him completely either. Everything Jareth has shown him, as well as Arttu’s own experiences, indicate that Jareth’s stories about magical beings and hidden realms are true. Arttu is no stranger to faith in the spirit realm. His mother believes in all sorts of supernatural beings, and his grandparents told him stories about trolls, elves, and the spirits of the forest. But Arttu never really considered that all these stories could actually be true. He always made fun of Tuulia and her weird colleagues. Does this mean that Salonen is right, after all, with his crazy ghost hunting?

“Are ghosts real, too?” Arttu blurts.

“Pardon?”

“Ghosts. Do they exist?”

“Yes,” Jareth says simply. “You’re diverging from the topic.”

Arttu blinks. “Shit. Okay, you’ll have to tell me all about this later, but you’re the one who’s trying to distract me.” Arttu takes advantage of Jareth’s confusion and leans in for a kiss again. “I’m pissed that you locked me in here, but I’m not afraid you’re going to kill me. At least not very much. I’m not trying to seduce you to save my life.”

A deep rumble vibrates in Jareth’s chest, Arttu can feel it where his hands rest on Jareth’s pecs.

“You’re too reckless.”

“I’m not. And as long as you keep me here, I’d appreciate some comfort.”

Jareth looks at him as if he has lost his mind. “Unbelievable.”

He stands up effortlessly, lifting Arttu as he goes.

Yelping in surprise, Arttu wraps his legs around Jareth’s waist on instinct.

“Are you going to bring me to your personal bedroom now?” Arttu teases.

“Thisismy personal bedroom,” Jareth says darkly.

“Oh.”

Arttu has no idea what to say to that. A warm feeling spreads through his chest. It’s always like that with Jareth. He takes care of him, and Arttu isn’t used to that, but he loves it.

“Unbelievable,” Jareth repeats. He carries Arttu to the bed and puts him down as if he were a precious thing and might break if handled too roughly. Looking down on him, Jareth studies him intently, making Arttu squirm at the close scrutiny.

“Okay, here’s what I’m going to do; I’m going to put my mouth on your cock and my fingers in your ass, and you’re going to try to hold still for me, because I want to take my time worshiping your beautiful body before I allow you to come.”

Arttu’s breath hitches, and he spreads his legs for Jareth to settle in-between.

“What’s your color, sweetheart?”

“Green,” Arttu says eagerly, before he even has a chance to analyze his response further.

Jareth hums appreciatively.

“Put your hands above your head. There you go. If you stay nice and relaxed I won’t have to tie you up. But I think you’re going to be a good boy and do as I ask you, won’t you, Arttu?”

“Yes,Lord Blackrose,” Arttu replies. He was aiming for teasing, but as the words leave his mouth, they seem charged with tension. It’s hard to tell in the dim light of the fireplace, but Arttu senses a flush spreading over Jareth’s high cheekbones. A strange calm washes over him.