Author's Note: This takes place around the beginning of the animated film, just before one of Jasmine's suitors storms out because Rajah attacked him. Picture Jafar as the live-action Marwan Kenzari version aka hot AF. Seriously, I would sit on his face.

Reviews are always appreciated.

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The quill scratched upon vellum. Each letter curled, a miniature masterpiece, as Jafar wrote. He paused. In his almost meditative state, he tapped his fingers atop his desk. Several phrases ran through his mind before he selected the best.

His newest sentence was just begun when he heard a loud knock at his door. He jolted out of his trance and frowned at the drop of ink that marred his otherwise pristine writing. But his voice betrayed no annoyance as he asked, "Who goes there?"

"Oh, good, you're here."

The voice and infuriating attitude were unmistakable. Jasmine flung open the door and slammed it behind her. Exhaling slowly, Jafar screwed the top back onto the inkwell and placed his quill down.

Jasmine sighed heavily, forcing him to give her attention.

"How may I serve you, Princess?" He wanted to blow upon the parchment to dry the ink, before Jasmine's impending tantrum blurred his words further. Instead, he gently waved a hand over it.

"Father tells me that another suitor is coming today." One of her hands was on her hip, which was jutted out in annoyance. "Tell him that I don't want to see him."

"Surely you realize that I can say nothing to sway your father in this matter. The law requires that you marry."

She groaned and rolled her eyes. For a split second, Jafar thought that she may turn and leave. She, however, had other plans. Crossing her arms angrily, she stomped towards him. "As your Princess, I order you."

"Unfortunately for you, Jasmine, I take orders from the Sultan."

She narrowed her eyes at his casual use of her name, then her lips pressed together in aggravation. It was sadistically entertaining to watch her fume. Here, where her father didn't bend to her every whim, she could only glare. Finally, Jasmine rolled her eyes again and looked away; her attention fell to the parchment.

"What's this?" She snatched it before Jafar could react and began reading it. "A letter to Sultan Al'Mufti?"

"Part of my duty in keeping peace in Agrabah is maintaining civil relationships with the neighboring kingdoms. Explaining why you reject your suitors requires tact."

"Prince Abdul, an heir who will certainly carry your traditions into his rule, merits a bride with the want to make your customs her own, a woman intent on adhering to your religious ways." Jasmine stopped reading to send Jafar a disgusted glare. "Oh, it's my fault?"

"You flung him into the fountain." Jafar's lips twitched in momentary amusement. "You collapsed in a fit of hysteria when he slipped and cracked his head against the marble."

"He deserved it." Jasmine didn't bother hiding her grin. She looked back at the scroll and read, "Princess Jasmine, fiercely dedicated to the ways of Agrabah, lacks the patience to acquaint herself with a different style of living." She scoffed, but continued, "Yet it's her mettle and pride that have made her such an alluring option for many."

Having Jasmine read his praise of her was something he never intended, especially in this context. Jafar leaned back in his chair, watching her carefully. He didn't miss how his flattery changed her posture, how her back arched. After watching her play these games with countless others, he knew what to expect next.

"She desires-"Jasmine's large, dark eyes met his, gazing at him through heavy lashes. "What were you going to say?"

"I'm afraid my response eludes me."

"The ink is still wet." Mischief twitched at the corners of her mouth. She placed the parchment to the side and leaned against his desk. Her weight rested against one of her arms, causing her breasts to press together. With her other hand, she toyed with the waistline of her harem pants, dragging her nail just beneath the fabric. "What do I desire?"

Coy as her pose was, Jafar wasn't her usual victim – spoiled, young men were. They probably wouldn't even know what to do with her if she actually did throw herself upon them.

He did. His eyes roved across her caramel skin, the supple flesh that rose and fell with her breathing, up to her neck, the delicate curve of her jaw, her full lips, and finally her large, dark eyes. His stare bore into her, and he was impressed that she didn't back down.

Slowly, he leaned forward, lifting himself off of his chair just enough to place one hand on the desk next to hers, close enough that their fingers touched. He moved closer still and cupped his other hand on the side of her face. His thumb traced just under her bottom lip and, to his satisfaction, she gasped.

There was just one more thing to do. He brought his face on the other side of hers, close enough that his beard traced along her cheek as he moved towards her ear. His warm breath raised the soft hairs that didn't fit into her ponytail as he whispered, "To be a nuisance."

Pleased with himself, Jafar pulled back slowly, savoring the warm, spiced scent of her skin: hibiscus and rose water. The beginning of a triumphant smile was on his lips, but his eyebrows knit together when he saw her expression.

He expected her to look overwhelmed, embarrassed, or annoyed even at his sarcasm. Instead, her eyes were heavy-lidded with a more carnal emotion. She placed her hand over his and dragged it across her cheek until his index finger rested on her lips. Without breaking eye contact, she pulled his hand further until the pad of his finger pulled down her lower lip. The tip of her tongue crept forward and curled under his finger. With deliberate movements, and light pressure from her teeth, she took his finger into her mouth. Her tongue twirled around it and she sucked gently, moaning softly.

If the blood had drained any faster from his head, Jafar may have collapsed. As it was, he jumped back, sitting heavily back onto his chair. His hands folded onto his lap, hiding the beginning of his erection. "You should take your leave."

"Tell me what you were going to write, and I'll go." Jasmine's tone was sweet and deceptively innocent. She approached his chair, swaying her hips more than necessary. Her hands rested on his thighs and she leaned forward.

He inhaled slowly, trying to buy himself time for a retort, willing himself to think of anything besides where he'd rather feel her tongue. It was difficult, especially with his clouded mind and heart pounding in his chest. He was, in a word, dumbstruck.

The dull pulse between his legs increased until his hardening cock reached his palms through his robe. He cleared his throat and spoke slowly, keeping his tone low and his tempo steady. "She desires to be challenged, while Prince Abdul desires to be followed."

"Who knew you could be so charming?" She raised a hand to his cheek, and traced the back of her fingers along his beard. To really drive her victory home, she glanced pointedly at his lap. "What do you desire, Jafar?"

Speechless, he mentally berated himself for falling into her trap. He, the Royal Vizier of Agrabah, had overestimated himself. Now, if Jasmine would've simply left, his pride would have been bruised and he would've been in a moderate amount of pain; but he would've found a way to redeem himself.

Instead, she tilted her head to the side and slowly began dragging her hand up his thigh. "I never realized how incredibly handsome you are."

A poor calculation on her part. He may have fallen for her feminine wiles, but he was not like the boys she was used to manipulating.

His response was swift and primal. Before either could blink, he wrapped an arm around her and sprang forward. He dropped her on the edge of his desk, spread open her knees with his legs, and roughly pulled her body into his. She cried out, startled, when their bodies met; to both of their surprise, her legs wrapped around his hips.

"Jafar." Her hips rocked against him, but she kept her torso as far away as his arm allowed. Never before had he seen so many expressions flash across someone's face in such a short amount of time.

"Unable to finish what you started, Jasmine?" His tone was deathly, almost a growl. He ground his hips into hers, the fabric of his clothing nearly chafing his shaft. When she was unable to respond, he attacked her with a fierce kiss. Her mouth opened almost immediately to his. Instead of letting her tongue enter his mouth, he bit her lip, chastising her for her eagerness.

Whimpering in response, Jasmine pressed her torso against his, tight enough that he could feel her heart thumping against his ribs. At some point, she had tossed his turban aside. Now, her arms were around his neck and, when he broke their kiss, she buried her face in his shoulder.

With her breath warm on his neck, he lifted her by the waist just enough for him to pull her pants down past her hips. Maneuvering his hand between them, he ran his fingers along her nether lips. She moaned and kissed his neck between gasps.

His fingers traced along her seam until liquid arousal began to leak from her. He inserted his index and middle fingers between her lips, slowly, but purposefully.

"Jafar." She mewled and clung to his robes. Her hips bucked into his hand.

Her whispered voice burned through his ear. He curled his digits towards her core and held the heel of his palm against her clit. Moments later, he felt her walls tremble around his fingers as she came.

He pulled his fingers out slowly, struggling somewhat with how her tightly she held him. Spidery strands of lubrication clung between them. Mostly to himself, he said, "It appears that I was wrong about what you desire."

Jasmine peered up from his collarbone and followed his line of sight. Her cheeks flushed and she buried her face in his chest once again, unable to make eye contact. "That's not funny."

"A mere observation, Princess." He released her momentarily and slid his hand down her leg, pushing off her silky pants. When her legs were freed, he kept a few inches of distance between them and began fumbling with his own robes.

At the sight of his cock, Jasmine bit her bottom lip. Tentatively, she reached out and wrapped her hand around it. Her fingers couldn't fully close around it, but she stroked it slowly, eyes searching his face for confirmation.

He groaned softly, enough to encourage her to continue. It was a minor moment for Jafar, but clearly new territory for her. The sight of the princess, corrupting before him, did more for him than her touch.

Her thumb ran across his head, smearing the droplets of pre-cum. She let out a soft laugh, surprised with her boldness.

But this wasn't enough for Jafar – not when the Princess was half-naked, wet, and prone before him. He grasped the base of his shaft and placed his other hand on her ass. At her concerned expression, he promised, "I will not penetrate you without permission."

She swallowed, unsure if she could trust him. Smart girl. What reason did she have to believe the man who reeked of deceit?

Taking her silence for consent, he pressed his head against her pussy until her lips parted. It wasn't enough for him to plunge inside her and, quite frankly, he preferred women who begged. It was just enough for him to slide his cock up until it met her clit.

The sound she made was somewhere between shock and ecstasy. With one of her arms around his shoulders, she arched her back and began massaging her breast through her top.

Jafar continued rubbing his head along her clit as she started to moan his name. He kept his gaze down, alternating between watching her free her breast from her top and the intoxicating sight of his cock rubbing along her soaking slit. But when she came, his lifted his gaze to watch her eyebrows knit together, her bottom jaw jut out slightly, and her eyes desperately locked onto his.

He kissed her, allowing his lips to linger against hers. After that gentle moment, he released his cock, grabbed her ass with both hands, and pressed his hips against hers. His entire shaft ran along her slit now. His tongue entered her mouth and while they parried briefly, she soon began sucking on it and moaning.

Her body rocked against his, hungrily rubbing her pussy along his length. Her movements became more desperate and she stopped massaging her breast to wrap both arms around his shoulders for stabilization.

Jafar felt her scream into his mouth as she came. Afterwards, she broke their kiss and met his gaze with insatiable eyes. "Jafar, please."

"Yes, Jasmine?" Her name never felt more pleasant leaving his mouth, nor did his feel so hypnotizing leaving hers. If she wanted more, she would have to beg.

"Please."

"How may I serve you, Princess?"

She fumbled over the words, wriggling along him to no avail. At barely a whisper, she finally caved, "Take me."

He should have thought it through, acknowledged that the two of them were poisoned by pheromones. Consequences, however, were the furthest concept from his mind. "As you wish, Jasmine."

Sticky fluids coated his fist as he grabbed the base of his cock yet again. Placing reaffirming kisses and light bites along her neck, he lined up his head to her dripping opening. He pushed forward slightly. Even with well-serviced women, Jafar often felt resistance. Jasmine was anything but well-serviced and, wet as she was, her body tightened against him.

She stifled a cry so Jafar cupped the side of her face with his other hand. Their eyes met again, hers wide and full of a combination of anticipation and fear. His must have been reassuring because she relaxed and ran the tip of her tongue along her lips.

He pushed again, slowly and consistently. She felt better than he could have imagined, soft, hot, wet, and addictive. Only his head had sank within her folds when he felt her entire body stiffen, in pain and overwhelmed. He stopped moving forward and stroked her cheek, lightly brushing sweaty strands of hair. Releasing the base of his cock, he used the pad of his finger to draw small circles upon her clit.

Her breaths were uneven, but she moaned and moved her hips against him. Her walls loosened and he slid in further. All thoughts left his mind as she slowly enveloped him. Their gaze was still locked, her with glassy eyes and him with the blurred vision of a drunk.

He grunted softly when his full length was finally within her. For the first time in decades, Jafar wondered how long he'd be able to last. Watching her expression alter from lust to anticipation – from fear to what almost looked like trust – tightened his throat as he steadily thrust in and out of her.

"Jafar?" Her fingers clasped behind his neck, and although she winced sporadically, she began moving herself up and down him.

"Princess?"

"Jasmine." She flinched, but shifted her hips until she could sink deeper onto him. "I want to hear my name."

He nuzzled his face into her hair, inhaling her perfume, hair oils, and sweat. High from her intoxicating scent, he murmured her name over and over. His hands moved to her waist, fingers driving into her flesh. As her body weakened around him, he fucked her harder. He couldn't tell if she cried out louder when he pulled nearly his entire length out, or when he plunged it back in. He didn't care.

Her cries grew louder, sometimes screams, sometimes his name. Tears leaked from the corners of her eyes, proof of exquisite pain. Every fiber of her being was lost, except for the quivering muscles at her core.

They were both on the edge of ecstasy and the world could have shattered around them without either noticing.

Jafar released into her with a deep throated groan. Clearing his throat, he straightened and looked down at her, into those no longer innocent, but still wide, mahogany eyes. Panting, he loosened what he now realized was an iron grip on her ass. He moved his hands to the small of her back and was surprised to realize that they were trembling.

There was a timid knock. Jasmine froze, panicked. Jafar clamped a hand over her mouth and glared at the door. He barked out, in a growling rage, "What?"

"Jafar, Prince Achmed is arriving at the palace gates." Razoul's voice was uncertain, taken aback by his commander's unprecedented tone.

Jafar swore quietly. Of course the very person who brought Jasmine to his study would drive her out. "Escort him to the throne room. I will collect the princess."

"You… don't want to greet him yourself?"

"I advise you against questioning my orders, Razoul." Jafar's voice returned to its silky yet threatening tone. "Disobedience is a punishable offense."

Apologizing profusely, Razoul's voice disappeared down the hall.

Jafar sighed in relief and looked back at Jasmine.

She was shaking, on the verge of hyperventilation. Tears spilled over her eyelashes and onto his hand. Most unusual, however, was how her eyes searched him for an answer, for salvation.

Her distress sent the blood back to his brain, but although he softened inside her, her tightened walls locked him in place. He shushed her softly and brought his forehead to hers. When her breathing became more regular, he moved his hand from her mouth and wrapped it around her waist.

"He could have come in." Jasmine still shook. "What if he heard us? Allah, he's the Captain of the Guard; he could have me killed. Jafar, what have we done?"

"Jasmine," he interrupted her firmly, stopping her before she spiraled. "Razoul would be foolish to accuse you of improper conduct, and if he did, your doting father would have him executed – or at least removed from his employment."

She nodded, but looked unconvinced.

It wasn't until he brushed his thumbs beneath her eyes to wipe away her tears that Jafar realized he'd done it. He pulled himself from within her, an action that was almost physically painful. Opening a drawer in his desk, he removed two small scarves, a satin material that he used to cover his face when the desert winds blew too high. One he tossed to Jasmine, who looked at it in confusion until he used his to wipe off his now flaccid member. She blushed slightly, but used hers to clean herself as well.

"I must ask, Jasmine," Jafar said, breaking the silence as he fastened his robe, "did you come here with the intention of seducing me?"

"Did you mean what you wrote?" Jasmine fixed her top and stepped into her harem pants.

"The princes often need me to exaggerate their qualities and conceal their flaws."

"About me." She stepped towards him and placed her hands on his chest. Her shaking was subsiding, but her need for reassurance was palpable. Enamoring. "Do you mean the compliments about me?"

"Most certainly." He held her against him one last time. "The insults, as well."

Jasmine he lifted herself onto her toes to kiss him lightly and tease, with her lips just against his. "You're so kind and gentle."

Savoring the last few private moments they would have, he said, "I assure you, Jasmine; if we find ourselves in this situation again, I won't be."

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Should I leave this as a 1 shot, or continue with the plot I'm considering? If nothing else, we should probably see Jasmine's perspective...