A/N: Totally not at all late with this fill, you understand...
It is preferable, he eventually decides, to let the Princess take some enjoyment in their games. For a while he experiments with leaving her angry, allowing her to fight, revelling in the rush of blood and adrenaline that it is to pin her beneath him and take her, ravish her, and for the angry fire in her eyes to make up, at least, for the fact that she does not know in truth what has passed. But then, on a whim, he casts his spells differently and allows her also to enjoy their union, and the result is quite... remarkable.
From fighting for her body, he finds it lavished against him. Anything, she begs, anything so long as he will take her. She finds special delight in his cock, he discovers, and it amuses him immensely at the same time as sending bolts of arousal down his spine. To watch her slender soft fingers running up and down his shaft, so light a touch that it ached, to feel her give those little tentative, adoring licks before she took him into her mouth fully with a moan of her own completion.
She could not tear her eyes from him, it seemed. Such a sheltered girl, hidden within the walls of the Palace; Jafar became certain after some time that his was the only cock on which she had ever laid eyes. And oh, how she laid eyes. Great adoring brown looks, her eyes glowing with fascination as she explored him with her hands, his shaft, his head, the movement of his foreskin as he rose to full erection. She would breathe in the soft musky smell of his chin, rub her cheek against him like a cat, make little breathy moans in her throat when he revealed himself to her.
It seems almost natural, then, that she takes such great delight in taking into her mouth. Her soft full lips, the slick tongue, tasting and stroking and feeling him, her eyes open and fixed on his or closed and fixed upon some inner ecstasy, adoring him, keeping in those little closed hidden movements of her mouth her love or at least her lust for him. Sometimes he would not be able to restrain himself and would come, hard, hot, into her mouth or over her skin, but she would not draw back in disgust and rather would lower her lips to his skin and suckle the essence from him, and sometimes that alone was enough to make him hard again in so short a time, and then he would let her have her own reward.
She took little delight in his hands, his mouth, his promises. It all came back to his cock, in her grasp or between her lips or deep within her, cunt or ass, she did not care. Her favourite was to press him down upon the bed, to straddle him and take him into her, keeping one hand between her thighs so that she could feel him slipping in and out of her, the other hand supporting her weight, her expression distant and enraptured as she enveloped him, again and again, allowing him to watch the sheen of sweat on the lines of her body, the sway of her breasts, the way that she bit her lip as she came close to climax, the way that her hand would slip further down around his shaft and follow him, firm on his slick flesh, as she cried out and shuddered and came with bucking hips above him.
Oh yes, to fight for her was one thing. But to have her take such delight in him... was another altogether.
You take to Jafar/Jasmine so naturally...are you sure you weren't an evil sorcerer at some point in your life?
I love the description of her riding him, I know that sounds weird, but it was so realistic. Your Jafar gives the willies...he's such a slimy character. He's positively oily in his self-satisfaction.
It is preferable, he eventually decides, to let the Princess take some enjoyment in their games. For a while he experiments with leaving her angry, allowing her to fight, revelling in the rush of blood and adrenaline that it is to pin her beneath him and take her, ravish her, and for the angry fire in her eyes to make up, at least, for the fact that she does not know in truth what has passed. But then, on a whim, he casts his spells differently and allows her also to enjoy their union, and the result is quite... remarkable.
From fighting for her body, he finds it lavished against him. Anything, she begs, anything so long as he will take her. She finds special delight in his cock, he discovers, and it amuses him immensely at the same time as sending bolts of arousal down his spine. To watch her slender soft fingers running up and down his shaft, so light a touch that it ached, to feel her give those little tentative, adoring licks before she took him into her mouth fully with a moan of her own completion.
She could not tear her eyes from him, it seemed. Such a sheltered girl, hidden within the walls of the Palace; Jafar became certain after some time that his was the only cock on which she had ever laid eyes. And oh, how she laid eyes. Great adoring brown looks, her eyes glowing with fascination as she explored him with her hands, his shaft, his head, the movement of his foreskin as he rose to full erection. She would breathe in the soft musky smell of his chin, rub her cheek against him like a cat, make little breathy moans in her throat when he revealed himself to her.
It seems almost natural, then, that she takes such great delight in taking into her mouth. Her soft full lips, the slick tongue, tasting and stroking and feeling him, her eyes open and fixed on his or closed and fixed upon some inner ecstasy, adoring him, keeping in those little closed hidden movements of her mouth her love or at least her lust for him. Sometimes he would not be able to restrain himself and would come, hard, hot, into her mouth or over her skin, but she would not draw back in disgust and rather would lower her lips to his skin and suckle the essence from him, and sometimes that alone was enough to make him hard again in so short a time, and then he would let her have her own reward.
She took little delight in his hands, his mouth, his promises. It all came back to his cock, in her grasp or between her lips or deep within her, cunt or ass, she did not care. Her favourite was to press him down upon the bed, to straddle him and take him into her, keeping one hand between her thighs so that she could feel him slipping in and out of her, the other hand supporting her weight, her expression distant and enraptured as she enveloped him, again and again, allowing him to watch the sheen of sweat on the lines of her body, the sway of her breasts, the way that she bit her lip as she came close to climax, the way that her hand would slip further down around his shaft and follow him, firm on his slick flesh, as she cried out and shuddered and came with bucking hips above him.
Oh yes, to fight for her was one thing. But to have her take such delight in him... was another altogether.
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I love the description of her riding him, I know that sounds weird, but it was so realistic. Your Jafar gives the willies...he's such a slimy character. He's positively oily in his self-satisfaction.
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