This one proved a bit (lot) of a pain to write, so apologies if it took a while. On that note it gets a little...well, hetro just to warn those of you with somewhat sensitive yaoi sensibilities (if there is such a thing. Also I warn people against yaoi, against het, what won't I warn them against?). But Jafar will be going back to his normal, male-shaped self very soon

Big thanks to kheelwithit (some more sexual stuff, not quite on the two guys thing yet. And yes I am a tease, sorry lol :p), Akumarayne (thanks for helping me so much, and Jafar's in for a long, long bath now) and Green Sphynx (you're welcome. And of course Sinbad is one step ahead, it's Sinbad :p and yeah, Jafar is a bit lacking for love. Poor Jafar) for their comments. And everyone else reading.

Anyway, enjoy~


His Target: ...Disengaged

"...Now we're alone I wanted to say something," Sinbad led the way to that cubicle, Jafar lagging behind and not listening. As needless to say, he actually didn't give a fuck what his lecherous prey was talking about. "That is, I know you aren't Ekat-hey!"

Abruptly the silver-haired assassin pushed him, mainly to just shut the man up. If he had been listening, it was actually the case he was going to be told something useful Oh well. Instead he just shoved with as much strength he could muster in that unfamiliar, curvaceous body of his. That elusive target of his hurtled face first into the far wall, colliding with it in a surprised grunt. Those fussy, marked, scratched containers of makeup were sent flying, smudging against the filthy ground in smears of gaudy violet and red. Delicate-looking silver utensils scattered, breaking upon concrete. Jafar smirked; not so graceful now, was he?

"...That hurt! What do you think you're doing?" that robed figure demanded, whipping round to face him.

"My apologies, your majesty. I... slipped," he offered as a reply, that simpering, girlish voice fucking annoying him yet again. He drew into the room, the very place belonging to that apparently infamous hostess known as Ekaterina. That woman known by Sinbad to be unparalleled in her capabilities to gather information from her patrons. She was more than likely buxom and beautiful, at least enough for this handsome, somewhat charming man to transverse whole continents for. All of this, and yet he'd more than likely have forgotten everything about Jafar.

Not that the assassin cares; what was it to him, who his prey was there for? He may well have beaten dungeons, established a country and seemed to think he could fucking seduce every woman he met, whore or not. Even Jafar – not that he was a woman. Or a whore, for that matter. Besides, soon he would be dead; soon Jafar would feel that crimson cascade of life trickle warmly over his fingers before casting Sinbad's corpse aside. The last thing he wanted to aspiring king to see was Jafar stripping him of every metal vessel he had accumulated over the years. That might repay the humiliation the assassin had endured in trailing him, as well as repaying the decade of his life he had lost. Then he would get his body back, and then he would slaughter that damned bitch magician like a fucking pig.

Simple.

"Slipped? That hurt..." Sinbad was rubbing his hand, yet met him with a warm smile. As if it was forgiven; a mistake. A lovely smile really, even if Jafar didn't know why he was nothing such a thing. The pale, assumed female who was in fact an extremely dangerous male eyed him over. Those honeyed eyes looked over him hungrily again. "Anyway, as I was saying-"

Again, Jafar didn't care. He took hold of that hand, for some reason guiding it to his waist as if in way of an apology. Then he steps up on his bare toes for a kiss.

...Actually kissing that drunken letch. And actually enjoying it. "Let's not talk. I'm sure I can make you feel better in other ways..."

And he kissed back. Why, for fuck sake was Jafar doing this. Playing at being a whore still, kissing him – should he be doing this? Yes...as he tasted nice. Amazing actually, with that sour tang of wine clinging to his lips. Not that the pale man liked alcohol; it was just such a despicable and unnecessary thing. That fevered assault continued in its damp and demanding attacks, seeking out that acidic taste again and again. His body all but tingled, breathing heavily as he gripped at those tanned, well muscled forearms. Strange; it wasn't as if Jafar had ever found a man attractive. But then, it wasn't as if he relished the idea of fucking a woman, either.

Maybe it was that bitch magician's fault that his body was acting so shamefully. Perhaps, but Falan had told him men tended to lower their guard when kissing someone. And when doing more than kissing; trust her to notice something like that. And his violet-haired target was intoxicated, happy and careless. So in order to take his life it made sense to continue.

It was how Jafar rationalised it; mainly as he didn't want to admit his body wasn't controlling himself. He felt Sinbad grip his elbows, a warm tough slipping over his upper arms in turn. He himself wasn't aggressive however; a light, somewhat tender caress of Jafar's upper lip before sucking moistly at it before shifting to claim the other. As if commanding him to be less forceful.

Fuck that...

"...You know, you're very good at interrupting me. It makes me want to take you with me too," Sinbad broke off finally yet didn't move away. "First though, there's still that thing I wanted to say."

"Oh?" a false girlish giggle. It was really quite something, the assassin secretly desiring to strangle himself in that moment. Yet he watched Sinbad move, taking his wrists and lightly guiding them to rest on his chest. Against that broad chest, its steady heartbeat and the sculpted, perfect muscles beneath his clothing. Heat rushed to the assassin's face, considering of the two he was the more distracted. "You want to take someone like me all the way back with you? I've never travelled outside of the capital."

"...I wonder about that," the one who he was supposed to be killing right now leaned down, breath catching in Jafar's hair. Causing the heart to rush to his face. "Beautiful as you are, you're not the best liar. But that's alright; I don't think its right for a woman to be deceitful."

"Then you haven't known enough women," more than likely, Sinbad knew more than him. Or he just knew a particularly insufferable one in particular. Even so he toughed lightly over that man's chest, curious how his skin felt. How smooth it was, how his arms might feel...strange things to think about. Especially as he didn't remember being this close to someone, at least not when he was hurting them. Or a long time again, someone hurting him.

"I don't think its possible for a man to ever meet enough of them," a knowing smile. Then without warning Jafar watched his target step to the side, pushing him forward. Before he knew it he was facing the wall, oversized and half bare chest pressed into the wall, rubbing against the discoloured plaster. And held there.

"What are you doing?" he demanded.

"Standing behind you," a simple reply, and a rich laughter. Soft laughter really, as if Sinbad was amused as he leaned in. He took to nipping gently at Jafar's earlobe and earning a slight shudder. The pale man became aware of something slipping up, deliberately pressed into the crevice of his backside. Something hot, throbbing... he knew exactly what that was. "I thought you'd like that. Will you listen to me now without interrupting?"

He didn't want to; he didn't want something like that pressed to him. Or to enjoy how it felt, even through clothing. After all, despite his current appearance he was still a man. Even as Sinbad pressed in and he gave something of a breathy moan, he was telling himself that.

"As I was trying to say..." Sinbad continued gently. Jafar felt silken lips press hotly to his neck, leaning back as they did. A touch kneaded softly at his stomach as his target drew his arms round him. As if embracing him. "I know you lied to me before. After you knocked into me, I assumed you were someone else yet you said you were her."

"...What sort of man expects a whore to tell the truth?"

"Your body seems honest enough for me. Which I don't mind..." that soft caress of his stomach continued, nails scoring over the thin woollen material he was wearing. A slight yet sharp sensation scoring over his skin. That same sensation of a tongue drawing slowly over his bare shoulder, making him give something of a defeated moan as his fingertips dug into the cracked wall. "Honest enough that I know you're new at this, inexperienced yet too lovely for this place. I want to know who you are."

"Ekaterina. You came all this way for me, or did my aspiring king drink too much already?"

"You came out of her room, yes. And once I turned back you responded to her name. I played along, as I wanted your company. However..." the assassin froze; something wasn't right. Even if his tone was playful, he was beginning to think of reaching for his weapons by instinct. "Ekaterina is a very memorable woman, and more for her talents at gaining information. She's...unique in appearance, tall and muscular so nothing like you. I met her a while ago when she fought in the coliseum, and it's no secret she was going to return to Sindria with me."

...Well fuck. Did that bitch magician know this? More than likely she did, and just wanted to embarrass him. He thought quickly for an excuse. "She's sick, so I was fetching something for her. Then I bumped into you and just...said I was her. You could have told me, you know. Not...say all those things about me going back with you."

"What if I was serious? I can see her when she's feeling better. And I can take you back as well."

"I'd say you're a greedy man, not satisfied with one woman."

"It's like you know me..." Sinbad's fingers moved to circle his navel, not releasing him. "But all the same, someone as beautiful as you should come back with me. I insist."

Jafar sighed. "Perhaps you aren't as charming as you think you are."

"Hm? I wasn't trying to charm you," he seemed genuinely surprised by that. "I'm surprised you're refusing me though, given this place..." he commented as he stroked at the man in his grasp. "It's not nice here. And you seem the sort of girl to dedicate herself to her work – I like that. I watched you, and thought this might even be your first day. Yet you covered it up; whilst you fetched my wine you looked about. You watched how the other girls acted, and copied them. Not...too well, however."

Jafar frowned; he copied them perfectly as he saw it. "I'm flattered you were watching me."

"Looking like that, it's hard not to..." he felt Sinbad guide him from the wall, pushing him back carefully to sit on the bed. Another of those light kisses, and his wrists taken in that same intimate manner. "But I mean it; I'd love for you to come back with me as well. It could be your chance for a better life."

Why, the assassin thought, would he ever consider going anywhere with such a person. "I'll think about it."

He laughed. "Then perhaps we can spend our time together with me convincing you..." after all, Sinbad seemed to like who he thought was Ekaterina's replacement. Who, quite correctly, had in fact never done something like this before. It just seemed ironic, given how both men had entered a pleasure house with no intention of sating their desires. Only he personally was keen on keeping it that way. Sinbad however pressed in, enough to push him back to lay on the bed with an arm either side to keep him there. He wriggled back, body shifting upon itchy blankets until he found himself reaching a set of somewhat musky, cheap pillows.

"It might cost you more if I go with you."

"If it would buy your name I might consider it," somehow, Jafar doubted he'd believe that name if he told it to him. He stared blankly, pinned there...enjoying being pinned there. "No? Well, maybe when I'm done you'll feel like telling me."

That knowing smile alarmed Jafar somewhat, right as his target knelt over the assassin. The man's attention caught on that still exposed, rounded breast and he leaned down into it. Warm breath billowed pleasantly over his oversensitive skin, and he watched a large hand cup at it. Jafar's eyes widened, watching the person pressing down on him lap at the hardening bud before taking it into his mouth. Jafar closed his eyes, not wanting to see his expression; and trying to ignore that wet, sucking sensation that his lewd body enjoyed. He just flattened against the bed in a soft gasp.

He definitely wasn't ready for that, nor the fact Sinbad's other hand was settled at the small of his back as if to hold him in place. He pressed up into that fondling hand, annoyed when it drew away. When he, the man supposedly paying for him, drew away. He watched that tacky, cheap-looking cameo brooch fastened to his clothing removed without his consent. The loose material spilled off his chest and onto the hideous blankets below. It was then those same, white hot kisses continued, trailing down the side of his body that had just been uncovered. Starting at his throat, down his neck to his shoulder. Then lastly to his collarbone before settling at his other breast, hands soon to follow.

"Why..." he gasped slightly, trying to get attention of a somewhat occupied person. "Why are you doing this? Don't you usually pay someone to do...things like this?"

"Hm..." a content and muffled voice, still buried against flesh, seemed to consider that yet didn't move. "I just thought if you were new then you'd not be too experienced in pleasing a man. You can learn though, especially if you come back with me..." The slight sound of licks and kisses returned, and Jafar felt very much trapped under that handsome body. As he continued to endure the humiliation of being touched and savoured this way, he wondered what he'd do when he killed this man. If Sinbad was killed here and now, how the fuck would the assassin actually get free? He'd just be trapped like this, under a lovely corpse. He severely doubted that he'd be able to move him. And as this continued, it would only get tougher to do.

At least his thighs were still covered, for now at least. Sinbad seemed preoccupied enough with his curvaceous upper half to expose the weapons he had hidden. It was almost as if he had just unwrapped some delightful treat, currently writhing below somewhat helplessly.

Of course he was such a thing. He was here to kill someone damnit. Even whilst in that hungry grasp, unable to stop it.

Fuck...he didn't even want to stop this. There he was, flattened against the blankets, forced to suffer this indignity. Feeling the kisses returned to his throat, pressing him back against the pillows. Continuing that playing over his chest, pushing him to the point where Jafar no longer felt in control of himself and was going to explode. The needy gasps in his voice urged for this to continue, so it did. His, slender legs gripped around that tanned waist, looking to keep his seducer close.

This might have been what Falan meant. That damnable woman knew her body; of all its lusts and perversions. This was her fault – she fucking knew that this would happen. She wanted to humiliate him by having him fucked by the very man he had vowed to kill. It was so like her – she's find the idea of him succumbing in this way hilarious.

It wasn't. And he was by no means succumbing either; he hated this and wanted it to stop. Or no, he loved it...he didn't know anymore.

Sinbad was gripping his hips, still covered by his toga before smoothing over them. Lifting them to press in between his parted legs. His own body grateful for it; bucking and trembling. Twitching as those palms trailed over his body, those large, soft domes and their erect pert nipples still coated in frenzied kisses and licks. His thighs parted even further, willingly, desperate to accept that familiar hardness pressing against him. That fucking dick, engorged and throbbing, was pressing against him hotly. As if to tease him with what was about to happen. The material of the cheap clothing he wore was already damp, perhaps soon to be soaked. Especially given Jafar's legs had tightened to press his prey in further; desperate and beginning, thinking he might break this way. Groaning in defeat; a strangled moan that echoed around the small cubicle.

This was so humiliating. Him, of all people, reduced to a heaving, twitching and powerless mess. There, being fondled and enjoyed by that man he had sworn to kill. Being fucking sexually tortured into revealing his name. He clutched handfuls of that sleek, richly toned hair falling over them. Helpless, as the one who would be his prey did this too him.

Somehow though, as Jafar lay there twitching, he felt alive. Whole. Not like some simple ghost dwelling in the shadows waiting to strike. Instead he was there, features flushed red, but there nonetheless. Aware of a warm, oddly smelling fluid pool out from his body. Feeling it spill onto his clothing hanging off his hips, and the blankets below. Clinging to his thighs.

...Disgusting. Truly disgusting.

"...What a lovely expression. Are you sure you don't want to come back with me yet?" Sinbad asked. In turn he couldn't respond. No words came out as he just watched him through lidded eyes. As if he was spent before he even started,

As it was, that man currently working to frenzy reached up to loosen his hair, despite Jafar still gripping to it. It spilled out in a dishevelled man; an inky shower falling down around them. Lovely. Transfixed he watched his prey take to unfastening each and every one of those necklaces, rings and bracelets he wore in total. Taking his time as he did...too fucking long. Long enough to leave him deathly annoyed. "...Hurry up."

"Hm? What was that?" next the man's sword, set against the foot of the bed. This seemed deliberate, part of his teasing as he knew Jafar was annoyed by this. Sinbad had become to unlace his robes, a tanned, beautifully sculpted shoulder exposed. The assassin's pulse deafening in his ears as he watched. "I think the pretty girl likes what she says..." as if he thinking this striptease was enjoyed.

No, Jafar just wanted him to hurry the fuck up and get back to him.

"Should I really do what you want though? You still haven't said your name..." a slightly darker expression as the man above him leaned in, nails grazing over a clothed thigh as he reached something that didn't feel entirely familiar. What the...fuck was that? Well, Jafar knew he didn't have a dick like this. So that meant...he gasped. Then moaned. Loudly.

A cheerful laugh. "Like that then?" no, he didn't know what it was. Three fingers pressing in, rubbing against an unfamiliar part of his body. That distinctive charge, running under his skin. The material pressed between his legs sticking to him, sopping wet, as that touch rubbed back and forth slowly. He could feel his body twitching somewhat dangerously. And snatched hold of his wrist. "Ah? Maybe I'll stop if you don't tell me."

"...Stop and I'll fucking kill you, you bastard."

"That...was a bit scary you know," yet he had stopped. And as Jafar glared over him he noticed why. Sinbad had taken to drawing off the rest of that decidedly ruined toga, laying him bare. Yet he was currently was looking over those meticulous, needle-like scars running up both of his inner legs. And with it, the weapons neglected yet bound to Jafar's body.

Part of him almost felt disappointed, knowing this game was over. But he wanted that man dead. Ignoring his body's desire to lay there prone he grasped the dagger tied to his right leg. Its wires unravelled in a thin streak of crimson. His eyes narrowed to snake like slits and he struck forward, looking to repay this humiliation. And watched the blow connect with Sinbad as he reached to stop it. "...What did I fucking tell you? If you stopped then I would kill you. Moron."

A spray of blood as his weapon found its way through Sinbad's palm. And the man in turn gripping to his hand to stop it travelling further. He had good reflexes, at least. Red liquid dripped slightly, down to Jafar's stomach in a stench of metallic heat. Smearing him with that enticing scent. And for his prey there was that delightful gasp of agony mixed with shock; a pained look that was beautiful to behold. Quickly the assassin grabbed his other dagger, yet felt himself stopped by a tight snatching of his forearm.

"...That'll teach me for not checking someone I try to have sex with isn't trying to kill me," Sinbad lamented. That lovely pained look faded, releasing him and backing away quickly. He had already gripped his sword, holing it in his uninjured hand. Fuck...Jafar had lost his chance. Especially as his damned moronic body seemed to want to lie there and be pleasured than do as he told it to. He needed to get out of there; yet again he had failed.

"I could imagine a lot of people want to kill you Sinbad," he rasped quietly. The silver-haired man forced his body to its feet. Aware his way was barred. "Hm, what if I tell you my way? Will you let me go?"

"Are you crazy? You just stabbed me in my hand!" that injured hand was balled into a fist; crimson drops falling to the filthy ground. "A pretty girl shouldn't go round doing things like this, you know."

"...Oh for fuck sake! I'm not a whore. Jafar. That's my name," a slight look of realisation. Wait...Sinbad finally remembered him? About fucking time..."I don't give a shit if you remember me. Just that I remember you...that back in Imuchakk that damned djinn should have picked me. Then I could have been powerful, and killed you. Then you'd be dead, and I wouldn't be in this shitty situation. Get it? It's all your fault!"

"...What the –"his unsuccessful target for murder seemed shocked by that. And it was all he needed.

Jafar barged past him, slipping on the floor stained with blood and smeared makeup. He ran, as fast as that useless body of his would let him. Out through the unguarded back door of that disgusting lupanar, and quite naked. Filthy as well; drenched in cooling sweat, that man's blood, that...fluid still running down his legs. Ashamed. Humiliated. Furious. He didn't stop, not even when his lungs heaved and his heart grew painful. Just escaping out into that sultry afternoon in Remona, not caring anymore. Yet he never released that soaked weapon, still stained that vivid and rusting red.

Really...that had fucking gone abysmally. And it was all that bitch Falan's fault.