A slovenly imp scampered like a cockroach through the limestone city – careful to avoid any familiar faces that he may owe money to. He'd switched cities, coming from Irbid to Safed a few weeks ago, but that didn't mean there weren't thugs out looking for him here already. Therefore, he was constantly on alert and kept a low profile.
His beard was full of stale bread crumbs and smelled of spit and stale tobacco; regards to sleeping in a tavern floor the night before. His ragged clothes, stained with yellow sweat and urine, pervaded a stench so vile he could be mistaken for a shit covered pig – and often times was. But the foulness of his exterior was less offensive in comparison to the wretchedness effervescing within his scandalous heart.
Abis Mal was a huckster, peddling cheaply made trinkets and artifacts while selling them for the cost of the real deal, as well as a procurer of hard to find objects. The latter his most providential yet risky line of work. He usually conducted both businesses in an actual building, but for now he'd had to settle for peddling out of his cart in the back of a secluded alley way. There were no windows or exits along the walled off area, which bode well for him.
His hands made quick work setting out the makeshift treasures, and signs of pricing. Before long, his first customer approached. Allah how he loved the early risers when the morning was still new and the sun had not yet shone willingly upon his shop.
A timid-stepping woman with sandy brown hair peered down the alley, making a noise of discontent in the small of her throat.
"May I help you?" The imp called with honeyed animosities.
The noise happened again, this time a little more aggressively, groaning with concern of whether or not she should approach the enshrouded area.
"Something for your husband perhaps?"
With a voice, all the more timorous than her mannerisms, she stammered, "I'm – I'm to get something. Something. But I can't – can't r–remember."
"Bah!" Abis Mal waved the loon away, turning back around to spit on one of the execrable trinkets and smudge the surface with the discolored corner of his shirt. A distinct jangle of coins sounded and turned the scandal's ear outward.
"Wait just a minute!" he sneered, "Perhaps – I can help you." He lunged several paces out of the denlike hall, pulled the petite girl by her shoulder's and guided her into the shadows.
She held up a brown, goat skin, drawstring bag.
"My father gave me this to pay. Is there enough for what I need?"
Abis Mal snatched it impatiently, tossed it in the air, and caught it with a dull jingle. Rubbing anxious fingers over the bag of coins, fat lips pulled back to reveal the metal in his mouth and he waggled untamed brows. "Barely, my dear. But I'll accept this amount in exchange for, let's say, this necklace and bracelet."
Her hazel eyes watered, shifting side to side over the arrangement of junk. "Well – umm. I think I was supposed to get something to eat. Not wear."
"Ahh! But why eat when you can look beautiful!" He placed the necklace around her neck and had her look into the broken hand mirror. "Imagine – you're walking through Safed and every eligible, wealthy bachelor has his eye on you. Before you know it, you'll be dining like a queen and have more food than you could ever desire."
She pondered for a minute, but her simple mind was easily stolen – with a greasy, clammy handshake, Abis Mal closed the deal; leaving a commoner girl with plastic jewelry and a grumbling belly, and himself ten bronze coins richer.
"There's always a sucker!" he sniggered tossing the purse bag and snatching it back again.
"I couldn't agree more."
Abis Mal jumped at the velvety voice – one he'd heard before – spinning around to face the recesses of the alley, but finding only unforgiving darkness at the back of the wall.
"Who – who's back there?" Another thug he owed money to no doubt. "I'm not open for any new business right now."
"And what of old business?" The man oily hummed. (Had intelligence, of any kind, not been lost on Abis Mal, the imp may have detected dangerous ground.)
Damnit! He knew it! "Listen rat, I don't owe you anything, whoever you are. And even if I did you aint gettin' it. Now get out of my shop before I call for help."
A sonorous laughter, deep and rolling, pricked at the tissue under Abis Mal's skin. Polished gold stepped first into a ray of light, then a black headdress with demonically dark features to boot. Abis Mal paled, frozen where he stood.
"Jaf – Jafar." He warbled shakily, glancing around for a passerby or customer to come and intervene. But there was no one within shouting distance of the dark little alley. "What're you doing – that is. I didn't expect to see you in Israel."
"You're unhappy to see me then?" his tongue clicked with theatrical disappointment. "Such a pity. And after our last encounter I'd have thought we were friends."
Abis Mal withdrew a distasteful hat off his balding head, dandruff falling on to stout shoulder's in the process. He twisted the fabric in his clammy hands. "What can I do for you, your majesty?"
Jafar watched disinterested at the cart of junk as he spoke with calm superiority. "As I recall we're still in the middle of the last thing I asked you to do for me." He flashed a sideways look, and bared a crooked smile. "Isn't, that right?"
Crusted white flakes clouded around Abis Mal's neck and shoulder's as he nodded ferociously. 'I was getting right on that – I've leads and the sort. That's why I came to Safed." He lied, though it was a happy coincidence that his lead had landed in Israel.
Eyebrows arched with a widened flash of opaque eyes. "Mm?" Jafar smirked, picking up a chalice from out of the wooden box, and turned it over with a look of disgust. "All that I see, is my investment dwindling while the imp I hired is wasting time robbing ill-minded children of their allowance." A single squeeze of the overt hand reduced the cup into a glittering pile of dust, seeping through the bottom of Jafar's fist as he darkly settled his gaze on Abis Mal.
"Hey!" Abis Mal whinnied pathetically.
Jafar dusted his hand, lengthening his spine, and resuming dark omniscience.
"That's my livelihood! I paid good money for that – you owe me a new one." Hat plopped slovenly back on his head, Abis Mal shifted around Jafar, back against the wall as he side-stepped. Jafar turned slowly, keeping an unrelenting watch on his target.
"And not one of the little tin ones either," Abis Mal dared to continue, "A gold chalice with – with diamonds and rubies on it. And a new hat!" Abis Mal put himself on the opposite side of the cart, figuring, for reasons lost on Jafar, that the measly wagon would protect him from the sorcerer. He leaned forward, hands on the edge of the cart. "Every good merchant has to have a good hat. Then – then we can discuss what else is owed."
"I agree – but why wait?" Whistling air was the only notice for what was to come, Abis Mal unable to retract his hand in time before the staff came hurling down on it, cracking his knuckles. Abis Mal screeched, shivering as he held his broken hand. He stepped backwards from Jafar, sobbing as he trembled.
"Now I paid a great deal of money for your services, and I expect you to deliver what's owed, within a reasonable amount of time."
"But I – gahk!" Abis Mal nearly vomited as Jafar thrusted the end of his staff into the pudgy gut.
Again, another blow, Abis Mal falling to his knees before Jafar hurled him up by the lining of his collar and bashed his stout figure into the back wall.
"Listen to me, you, filthy gutter rat! If you've not found the ring before week's end, I'll take what's owed to me from the skin of your back." Jafar peeled his victim off, then slammed him back into the wall, forcing Abis Mal's head to bounce off the stone; blood forming at the base of his skull upon impact. "And if you think you can run from me again, I promise to find you no matter which disease ridden hole you slither your wormy cunt under!"
Abis Mal wheezed, spittle effervescing around the corners of his mouth as he sobbed. "Okay – okay I will now. I'll go now. Please don't kill me."
With a plummet, he was dropped to the ground and left crumpled there in the corner like a feral, injured animal, quavering with head low and face pinched tightly. Then, just as quickly as he had come, Jafar was gone from sight. Abis Mal gasped, spit flying form his lips as he inhaled and expelled the breath repeatedly, nursing his broken hand as he searched futilely for the coin bag that he'd had. When he didn't find it, Abis Mal broke into sputtering sobs and leaned against the wall, dipping his gruff chin into his tear soaked chest.
It was such a perfect morning!
Birds singing their praises, children laughing and squealing, Tzipporah humming in the kitchen as baked goods wafted through the home. Although Jasmine had a disturbed sleep the previous night, being woken twice by nightmares, the new day erased all worries or qualms, and Jasmine joyously joined the children and Tzipporah at the table for breakfast.
Cyrus was said to be praying out in the city, while Tzipporah made note that Jafar had been gone since before she came downstairs. To where Jasmine doubted the woman knew, and therefore didn't care to ask further information.
It was lovely, just the girls, and of course Josiah, sharing a pleasant meal together. The children taught Jasmine another game, one with silly questions and riddles, and after bellies were bursting at the seams, Jasmine helped Tzipporah clean up, and listened to her read from a Hebrew bible. It was different and a little odd, but it held some pleasant stories and Jasmine held Opal in her lap as they listened from the rug on the floor.
By late morning, Tzipporah announced they were to go pray in the synagogues. Jasmine was invited to tag along, but she had plans of her own – taking the rare opportune moment to enjoy her freedom in a foreign city. Before the four of them left, Hadassah loaned Jasmine a warm shawl, promising in the process that the one she was sewing for her would be done by tomorrow. Jasmine gave cheeky kisses to them all, even Josiah, who had wiped it off with the back of his sleeve and a grimacing face, and headed into the city in opposing directions.
Jasmine went a little way. Absently looking around each merchant's stall, greeting random strangers with friendly smiles and occasionally stopping longer to ogle over someone's new baby and chat conversationally.
Her heart was light and full as she imagined a life where she lived like this daily. The presence of love, warmth and good natured friends encompassing her as she simultaneously maintained her freedom. Jasmine imagined for the time being that this was her reality. A life in which she was like the rest of them.
"Dammit, you simple fool. What does an old woman have to do to get some help!"
Jasmine's ears perked at the sound of distress, rippling through her fantasy like a fallen pebble.
Done feeling sorry for yourself? Come on Jas, we've already been down this road before.
Jasmine heated while berating herself. Old habits die hard. She wasn't the only one who'd been divested during calamitous trials. Her father was trapped within his mind, Tahira was still missing and the other girls, including Ummah, had been destroyed due to the last time Jasmine tried to live a life that was not hers. There was no sense griping about what she didn't have when so many had far less.
Jasmine cleared childish thoughts and headed over to the woman. She'd landed in front of the same flower stall and rocked onto her toes. When she smiled over, as pleasantly as possible, however, the hag grimaced and scooted aside as if Jasmine had physically shoved her out of the way.
Alright then. "How are you today ma'am. Keeping well I hope?"
Unblinking, bloodshot, yellow eyes slow turned towards Jasmine. The croons rooster-like neck swaying as she looked despondently up at Jasmine. "What's so good about it?" She hissed not letting Jasmine answer before spewing another line of discontent. "I'm at a flower shop, to buy flowers for a funeral; and after twenty minutes I still have no flowers in my hand! Does that sound like someone who is keeping well?" She smacked her gums and looked forward again.
Jasmine pulled a face thinking hard on the dilemma and finding it irrational still. "I apologize for your loss – who is the funeral in memory of, if I might ask."
Same as before the hump-backed woman bulged her eyes and slow turned to look up at Jasmine. It was so theatrically portrayed that Jasmine couldn't help but choke back laughter, coughing into her hand, before she sucked in her lips.
Tangled brows raised deliberately into the woman's hairline, dragging with them a net of weather beaten lines. "You're an impertinent stupid girl, aren't you? Sticking your sniveling little nose where it don't belong. Why you haven't even grown into your ears yet, and you've the gall to question me about who died."
A cane as crooked as her fingers waved at Jasmine's face. "I don't like you one bit! And now I don't even feel like buying flowers for my funeral: which means there will be none there when they dump me in the ground!"
What was that now!?
The shrew hobbled along the street, griping to herself and bemoaning her miseries loud enough for Jasmine to hear. Jasmine threw up her shoulders and hands, scoffing bewilderment as she looked around her for an overhearer to validate that their interaction just now was completely puerile. Finding no one, Jasmine expelled a baffled breath, and slapped her hands to her side. She peered over the crowd and spotted the hobbling woman a fair distance away.
Jasmine hated feeling as if someone disliked her, especially when it was completely unwarranted. So, what else could she do but follow after the limping elderly woman to try and make amends? Jasmine hurried along through countless turns and crowded streets. The lack of direction and maze like city putting Jasmine at quit the disadvantage. She'd get lost repeatedly then at the last second catch a glimpse of the woman turning down another road.
The brooding woman turned one final time, disappearing into a small hovel at the bottom of a stone paved hill. Jasmine groaned picking up the pace and dashed, nearly tripping over her feet before coming to an abrupt halt. There was no door or windows decorating the stone shack; simply a low set archway – which opened into the relentless black shadows within – and a foreign encryption carved into the mantelpiece: κατάρα της μάγισσας.
It was desolate, where Jasmine stood; she hadn't remembered traveling this far from the main street. Echoes of the world fell away and the sun hid behind dark clouds. Desperation crept near, the unnatural silence convoluting.
A breeze nipped at her ankles and Jasmine shakily breathed, pulling inward as she held her stomach. "Hello? Eh-hem. Ma'am?"
No answer.
Maybe you overestimated your state of wellbeing – there's no shame in going back. Maybe it's best not to do everything on your own.
She leaned forward still keeping a comfortable distance between herself and the dark hole. "I apologize for earlier . . . I didn't mean to offend you."
The shadows didn't respond.
Jasmine looked over her shoulder briefly – still alone, she thought – and hugged herself tighter. She opened her mouth to say something else, but thought better of it. Her skin pimpled with gooseflesh as a cold chill emanated from the darkness to settle on her flesh.
Definitely no shame in running away either!
But before she could turn to go – a breath. Slow, exhaling, whispering breaths lulled Jasmine's undivided attention. Senses dulled, eyes unblinking and concentrated on the shadows within. Her jaw slackened, lips parting and numb. Elegant arms hung dead weighted at either side as Jasmine glided forward on ghostlike steps. Jasmine. The shadows hissed in lingering, vibrating whispers. Ja-ssss-mine.
The trance held her, pulling at her blank mind; an unseen force beckoned that she step inside. Her eyes fogged over. Consience suppressed.
"Jasmine!" Cyrus hollered for the third time then bolted towards her, snatching Jasmine in his arms before she could dip her toe inside the hovel. A pin prick of something unseen scratched at his neck and he shouted his Lord's name for protection, wasting no time as he fled with jasmine in his arms up the large hill; stopping only when the darkness could no longer reach them.
With jittering hands, he planted Jasmine on the ground and shook her by the shoulders, pulling her eyelids wide as to examine her dilated eyes. He called her name again and cupped her cheeks in his hands, bowing his head to look head on at her sallow face.
She blinked pulling back rather disoriented. "What – what happened?"
Cyrus shook his head in exasperated relief, "Nothing. I ran into you, and you must've hit your head is all." he rushed to lie, not wanting to startle her with the truth. He'd tell Jafar about what happened as soon as possible - until then, they were safe.
"Is Jafar with you?" Cyrus continued, already searching the surrounding area with large worried eyes.
She shook her head no, still feeling a little hazed. She could remember chasing after someone, but the details were mottled. Had Cyrus ran into her? That would explain the headache and confusion. Cyrus looked her over again and jasmine dismissed her foggy memory, just thankful to see a kind face.
"It's not safe to be out here on your own. Come one – let's get you back dear."
They carried on a little ways but soon their path was greeted by a familiar, unwelcoming man. Jasmine's stomach plummeted stilling her breath.
"Jafar!" Cyrus intervened as if on cue. "We were just on our way to find you my friend. There's a banquet hall that serves excellent lunch. Wont the two of you join me? Tzipporah shall end up there soon as well and I think we left some matters unfinished this morning. We should talk." He said in one breath.
Jafar blankly fixed his eyes on Jasmine though and she lowered her gaze to the bits of grass that had sprouted their way up among the stones.
"How kind of you to offer, my friend. We'll be along in a moment. But first I require a word with my wife." An ominous pause ensued. "If you don't mind."
Jasmine's head darted back up, the entirety of her bottom lip being sucked under her teeth as she forgot to breathe.
"Of course, Jafar. Jasmine . . ." The Israeli man patted Jasmine sympathetically on the shoulder and gave Jafar a polite smile and nod as he walked past, back to the main streets. Leaving the estranged couple to their affairs.
Calmly Jafar began. "What are you doing out here, little girl?"
Jasmine looked away while crossing her arms and pressing the heels of her feet together. She was not a child! And didn't care for the reprimand.
"Have I not made myself clear often enough? Am I to believe you've forgotten the rules of the game?"
"I didn't do anything wrong." She whispered through narrowed lungs. The distance slowly erasing between them as he walked calmly forward.
"Indeed?" A smirk pulled at his devious lips. "Enlighten me, then."
Fuck.
She'd not seen that look since the night he murdered Dracul. Jafar was darker than he'd been in a long time – a growling luster resided in the pit of his gaze; reaching over the edge of his dark eyelids to pull at the corners of his mouth; twisting his smile to mimic the licentious ploys he envisioned.
It'd only been a month – how could she forget who Jafar was? That his treachery wasn't only skin deep – his foundation was that of rotting wood; disfigured, tarnished, and festering with parasites. And though he could hide that part of himself when necessary his sadism was constantly effervescing, just beneath the surface.
Lie! Lie your ass off!
Sweetly she stated, "I was with Cyrus the whole time – we took a walk."
"Start over." He warned forebodingly through clenched teeth.
Dammit. Still an awful liar – good to know. She cocked her hips, threw back her shoulders and jutted her chin, feeling a tinge of resentment. "Why does it matter to you where I am anyway? I'm not your concern –"
"– You're my wife."
"I'm your baggage!" she cried more brittle than intended, and tried to feign confidence, "I can take care of myself, Jafar. I don't need you."
"Can you indeed . . ."
With snap judgment, Jafar lurched out and dug the tips of his fingers into the meat of her arm, then dragged Jasmine behind him. She winced, gulping as she tried to keep up with his unreasonable pace. He turned left, down a narrow staircase, and then a right and another left; Jasmine's head dizzying as he yanked her around like a dog on a chain.
"Where're we going?" voice cracked then she yelped as he yanked harder, turning briskly down another street and heading straight for a dead end.
She envisioned what he planned to do – bash her head against the approaching stone wall. It was enshrouded with vines and leafy greens growing from the limestone, and Jasmine briefly hoped it would cushion some of the blow.
Jasmine pulled backwards, digging her heels into the decrepitated stones. "You're hurting me!"
Jafar snarled, twisting back to face and yank her back in place as he hissed, "I'm about to do much more than that."
"You're – scaring – me!" Jasmine said brokenly.
"Good!"
Window shutters overhead slapped shut, startling Jasmine. Then a door, and a few more windows. Some children on their front steps were ushered inside by their father – who gave Jasmine a dirty look as they passed.
Apparently not everyone was nice and selfless like Cyrus and his family.
No one cared what happened to her – her marriage was her own problem. Her suffering of no one's concern. And, ironically enough, Jasmine felt more alone than she'd ever felt before.
As they approached the end of the street, his hand sprawled across her back and he shoved her between the shoulder blades, Jasmine tumbling forward with outstretched hands, shock roiling in her belly as she fell through the brush and through a hole in the wall. Her palms caught the gist of the fall, but her chin hit hard into the dark soil and her dress was ripped at the hem. She'd hoped Hadassah would be willing to teach her how to fix it.
"You're a bastard," Jasmine spit, looking over her shoulder and scrambling to her feet; Haddassah's shawl falling to the ground. But Jafar pounced taking his staff horizontal in both hands and shoved Jasmine to the right, pinning her to the wall.
Her hands shot up, catching the staff just before it plunged into her neck; Jafar's hands on either side of her own as he continued to pin her in place. She whimpered, groaning in a frantic pitch, feet digging into the earth and her scarred back cutting into the jagged stones as she struggled. Jasmine blinked rapidly, eyes adjusting to the darkened atmosphere – sun still hidden behind dark clouds and abundant plant life enshrouding the small alcove.
"Defend yourself, little girl! Show me just how tough you are." Jafar pressed harder and Jasmine's knuckles turned white, face pinching as she groaned. "When will you wake up, you stupid, little woman! No one is going to save you! No one is coming to rescue you – not this time. Not the next! You continue to risk your life to prove a point, but you are not capable of surviving on your own!" He bellowed, spittle dotting Jasmine's cheek. "And I'll be damned if I'm going to look the other way as you squander your safety because of your feministic, childish, repulsive ideals!"
Jasmine hiccoughed a cry, body jittering and eyes watering. Her neck corded, a blue vain predominate along her temple. Jafar inhaled sharply through his nose, then raised the staff over her head, bringing her wrists with it in one smooth motion as he pinned them there. His knee went between her thighs and his nose pressed against hers.
"How about this, Jasmine? Do you feel empowered now? Just as you did when you ran away from me? - sleeping in squalor for weeks on end with a street rat! Or when you prostituted yourself, ready to give your virtue to a disease-ridden scumbag?! Or was it most empowering when you risked your life to rescue a whore – who didn't give a shit about you – from a burning building!? How many times will you force this upon me – upon yourself! Your misery is your own doing, and I cannot keep worrying about protecting you when there are matters far more pressing for me to deal with!"
Her eyes went wide, body stilling and breath hitching in broken pants as she calmed a little.
Protecting me? When has that ever been your concern. "And who is going to protect me from you?" Her nostrils flared, mouth pulling upside down as their eyes fixed on one another.
A flicker of something flinched along the sinewy muscles of his face before he recovered into a heartless façade. Jafar's dark eyes bore into her. The heavy lines under his lids creasing and enhancing his age. Though it was silent, their words were loud and clear – the struggle for power, control, and victory evident by what wasn't said.
"You'll not blame me for your stupidity, Jasmine." He derided, trying to become indifferent and blank but to no avail. "I've bestowed every kindness I'm capable of these last weeks as you healed. And just when I think you're past this childish bullshit –!"
Jasmine softened around the eyes, and had them fall away from his piercing stare. She watched his adam's apple bob as he swallowed and took notice to the rhythmic pulse in his neck.
What was she to say to him?
Why did he care if she did all those things? That she'd nearly died. What did he want from her? To fear him yet trust that he was looking out for her wellbeing? To hate him yet give her heart to him and thank him for not beating her for disobeying? Did he understand nothing?
He's a lost soul Jasmine. He's so broken – probably always has been. Of course, he understands nothing.
How was that her fault?
It could be your mother's fault.
Jasmine winced scrunching her face as she battled within. She'd forgotten about Ummah's story, or rather chose to forget.
If he doesn't know what love is how can he give it to you? Or compassion or forgiveness. But you have those things – you've been busy sharing it with others. Why not with him?
Because he doesn't want it. Nor does he deserve it.
Does anyone deserve forgiveness? . . . Look at him. There's goodness in him – you just have to draw it out. If not for him for yourself.
Jasmine shakily inhaled, making herself face her husband. Her arms were still pinned overhead with his, the blood slowly draining from them as they numbed. Jasmine shut out all sense of fear, and forced herself to see him through eyes of understanding and compassion. And as she did, Jafar looked different.
His eyes weren't just full of hatred – they were heavy-heartened, weighed down with hopeless emptiness and a deep seeded pain. A pain he might not even realize he had, but it was there all the same. Jafar was drained spiritually and emotionally and it wore like a fabricated net of misery on his face.
A beam of light shone through the leaves that enshrouded the alcove, and it hit just above his brow, picking out gold flakes in his otherwise black eyes, and highlighting the apples of his cheeks and the lining of his soft full mouth. He was so handsome, and only if he'd let the light shine into his heart, he'd be completely beautiful.
"What're you staring at?" He asked foully as if she were plotting his death by trying to figure him out. "This is not some game that will suck me in and make me have sympathy for you."
Nope. Definitely wouldn't be easy to show him compassion.
"Sympathy?" Jasmine scoffed, jutting her jaw. "When have you ever had sympathy?"
She leaned off the wall all she could, her arms numbing as the blood drained from them and gathered with tension in her shoulders, and pressed her chest to his, sharing the same air as she challenged him.
"You're too selfish to have sympathy for anyone."
He was unreadable, unrelentingly stubborn and she held his stare with her own hard gaze. Jafar's eyes were dilated, breath hard and forced; Jasmine trying to remain strong and as cold as him.
Give him a chance. Stay patient and kind and loving.
Before she'd a second thought Jasmine thrust her mouth onto his, pressing firm into his flattened mouth. Jafar was taken aback, frozen momentarily before opening to her kiss; their tongues sliding against each other.
Jafar tasted sweet like dates and tea and him; a soft mewl escaping her throat at the satisfaction she found from his response.
Jafar pushed her back to the wall, releasing her arms and taking her with both hands; fumbling with greedy haste as they grabbed one another. Jafar squeezing her ass and breasts; Jasmine scratching his back and biting his neck and digging her nails into the back of it, earning a throaty growl in response.
He fumbled for a moment to pull himself free, hiking her dress over her hips before roughly lifting her thigh over his waist; fingers digging deep into her flesh as he positioned his stiffened cock against her warm slit. Jasmine bit her lip, eyes fluttering as he slid the tip up and down the slick folds, smearing the moisture of her arousal for him. Only for him.
He slipped inside her with little resistance, steeling himself to keep from spilling over at the feel of her silky flesh.
Jafar thrust hard and deep inside her, rhythmically moving with each other; Jasmine held onto his shoulders, their skin slick with perspiration. Foreheads pressed together and eyes wielded shut as they fucked carnally. Jasmine bit back a moan; angering Jafar by her silence. He huffed and growled like an animal, hungry for her screams, and slammed deeper inside, gripping harder on her hips as their bodies meted against each other. Their breathing rapid and panicked, leaving wet warmth against the others flesh. She bit on his ear, down his neck and deep into his shoulder, wetting his shirt with her saliva.
The pressure built in them both, his shaft slipping wildly in and out of her. His heartbeat pounding against hers as they held each other possessively.
"Come for me, Pussy cat . . . I can't hold out . . . You feel so good sweetheart." He panted huskily, and his plea for release sent her over the edge.
Jasmine broke with a wail, tensing from her core down to her toes. The velvety muscles of her sex pulling the seed from him as he followed her. Their juices mingled, swirling low and hot below her belly; enhancing the sensation and forcing her to scream his name. Over and over loudly without remorse for those that might overhear. She sputtered nonsense arching her back off the wall and closing around him as he drained the last of himself deep inside her.
Jafar forced the back of her head down on his shoulder, silencing her cries as he kept her pinned to the wall; and thrust twice more with shuddering groans.
Jasmine moaned breathlessly. Pulse slowing as she came down from her high. Jafar pulled out slowly, sticky fluids clinging to his shaft and dripping down her inner thighs. He adjusted himself, and straightened. Leaning with hands by her face against the wall.
Jasmine took his jaw with a gentle hand, running the pad of her thumb over this hallow, strong cheeks; the other fingering his lips down over his chin.
"You're going to be the death of me." He said thick with aggravation.
"If only." Both their lips ticked in faint amusement before she added, "I will stay closer to you while we're in Safed." The queen smiled sweetly, the glow of her orgasm turning her cheeks pink.
Jafar narrowed his eyes with a tick of a smile; and bending his neck, kissed her with bruising carelessness. They broke apart breathlessly, leaving Jasmine slightly dizzied, as he took up the staff again recovering with a formal stiffness.
"Now . . . We'll finish this discussion later. I've business to attend to." He held out his arm for her to take.
Before she acquiesced, however, Jasmine took the sides of his face and planted a soft gentle peck to his cheeks. Then across the strong line of his jaw, the thick hair of his beard tickling her skin. Jafar was stiff, unblinking as he waited for her to finish; but he'd not pushed her away.
She smiled kindly at him then took the crook of his arm. It wasn't easy to do this with him – to go from one extreme to the next while keeping her own anger in check. There was still so much that needed addressed. So much left unsaid and unfinished between them.
But if she could show love to him, at least in mediocre ways by holding her tongue and remaining as loyal as possible, then perhaps she could save him; could start to forgive him when he didn't deserve it, and care for him even when it was painful to be selfless.
"What the fucking hell was that about!?" Aladdin practically fell off the roof where they were hiding. He couldn't see, but there wasn't much to leave to the imagination. "You were supposed to get her away from Jafar! Away! Not thrust her mouth on his cock!"
A haggardly woman, in plain dull rags, limping with a crooked cane, sighed with contempt. Mortal youths were so impatient. A trait she'd usually appreciated, but now had grown tired of.
"Temper, temper my pet." She crooned then shapeshifted into a stunning mature woman. Her rags now purple and gold and her distorted features free of wrinkle or blemish. "She didn't suck his cock –." she assured, then muttered, "this time anyway."
Aladdin caught the latter and shoved her hand from his shoulder. Face flushed with anger. "You told me to wait, Lilura! You said you'd get her out of his reach and back into my arms if I helped you!" Aladdin paced, rubbing his knuckles along the stubble of his chin. "What's Roel going to say when he finds out we knew Jafar was looking for the thieves and didn't say anything. Huh? What then? They're already suspicious to why I keep going out and never come back with anything. They'll think I betrayed them."
Lilura's green eyes remained forward in the distance. All of Aladdin's griping falling onto deaf ears. He paused, following her gaze to where they last saw jasmine and the snake go.
"Why haven't they come out yet!" he demanded. "You said Jasmine was like her mother. You said it'd be easy to lure her away!"
"I was wrong." She shrugged uncaring. "They may look similar but there's something special about her. Something her mother didn't have. Just as I figured she would be. She's different."
Aladdin threw up his hands. "Well that's fucking great, but it doesn't help us any!"
"Calm down you blabbering ape and gain some perspective." She warned dryly. "It won't be easy to draw her out, especially with others watching over her, but not impossible. I've blocked Jafar's powers once I can do it again."
"For how long? He's getting closer to finding us. You can't hold him off forever and when that happens, he'll kill anyone standing in his way. And who do you think he'll kill first on the battlefield. Me! I can't handle this." He pulled at his hair with two fists, drawing the skin tight on his forehead. "I should've taken Jasmine when I had the chance in Agrabah. Jafar was gone. The city was burning. No one would've seen."
"And you'd have risked everything in the process!" her patience wore thin. Hand itching to flick and break the boy's neck. There was more to this than his fowl, weak mind, could comprehend – his colorless love story the least of their concerns.
Jasmine could be seen emerging in the distance from the brush, Jafar following behind with iconic staff in tow. Aladdin narrowed his eyes, blinking rapidly and practically having a heart attack as he seen Jasmine smile and link her arm through Jafar's.
"That does it!" Aladdin readied himself to jump down onto the canopy below. "I'm going to get her. Hold him off and we'll run."
Lilura danced a finger aerially and it dragged Aladdin out of mid-air, reversing his fall, sending him to land face first on the unforgiving stone roof.
"You're an idiot." She hissed. "I see why Jasmine chose the tall one." And with a wave of her hand they vanished.