Aladdin & The Queens of Storybrooke

"Absolutely." Putting his hand next to her, he eased his body closer. "Ask you what you want me to do."

Her expression was bashful, then hoping. "Well, I mean—this scenario is somewhat geared toward you. What you want."

"I want to make you smile. C'mon, Jasmine; when you came here, what did you dream would happen? What's the fantasy?"

She batted her eyelids as she blinked, and he saw her bare hand come to her chest. Maybe she was feeling her rushing heart. It couldn't be going any faster than his.

"My prince comes for me—my sweet prince—he—he isn't wearing a vest. Or a fez."

"Fezzes are cool," Aladdin protested, but obediently rid himself of both items, leaving him bare from the waist up. Good thing; it was quite a waist.

Jasmine sucked on her teeth. It didn't get any worse to the North.

"Then what does your prince do for you?" His voice—calm, assured, confident. Falling into a dream with her. She looked down at the swathes of silk covering her and was suddenly overwarm in them.

"He takes these off," she said, shedding the first layer. She wanted to do that much for herself. "One at a time, until I'm all but naked."

The silk covered her like blanket and comforter, her body rendered into a shadow by the many layers of opaqueness. At first, it was like pulling the petals off a flower. The silk was so light that it caught in the air as Aladdin tossed them aside, fluttering around them at the slightest breeze. Jasmine's body became a mystery, then a vague hint, a suggestion, a promise. Until she seemed more naked than naked, the few remaining paper-thin layers doing little more than shading her nudity.

She had seemed too good to be true, a mirage in the desert, but his eyes did not deceive. In a world of ugliness, blood, and corruption, she was an oasis. Her skin was a rich olive shade, dipping like honey across supple muscles. He felt like an ogre for letting his eyes bask in her curves, when the rest of her was equally regal and feminine, but he couldn't help it. Her ass was full and round, large but in a manner keeping with her body, while her breasts stood out from her body as if inviting hands and eyes.

But even those paled in comparison to her lips: full and rich, he realized they had captivated him long before he even looked at her body. He stopped undressing her to run his finger over their soft curve; his eyes met hers, agile and flirtatious, with a quirk of her dark hair fallen between him. He brushed that away as well.

"Do you want to take off the rest?" he asked gently.

"Yes," she said, answering both his questions. She wanted not only this, but him.

It wasn't some customer to whom she pulled away the last of the sheets, finally letting him see her unadorned. It was Aladdin.

"Then you kiss me."

He couldn't wait any longer. Their lips met, her mouth fitting to his perfectly, their lust finding a natural equilibrium. He felt neither uncouth or overly polite kissing her; she did not seem either vulgar or prudish. It was just right.

He felt abashed to touch her, like he would be to smear the paint on a portrait, but she took his hand and brought it to her warm skin. It seemed too smooth and soft to exist in his world, the dewy little hairs that covered her stomach tickling his hand like tiny sparks. As they kissed, he felt out the curve of her hip—the dip of her navel—lower, lower now, to the hidden firmness of her pelvis.

Her meeting of his kiss became more heated, with soft moans dying in her throat. Jasmine pushed at his wrist encouragingly. He let his hand go limp, allowing her to guide him between her legs. There, she was everything he could've hoped for. Warm and wet like a melted candle, a flame lit long ago. He stirred with one finger, then with two, finding her tight but receptive in the extreme. The moans of her throat forced themselves out into the open, and she had to rush between kissing him and letting her body voice its own approval.

Finally, she had to pull away all together, panting like a wild animal, both her hands on his wrist to keep him delving into her sex. A third finger and her head was flung back like she was riding a stallion, her voice now reaching the volume of a scream.

"What does he do next?" Aladdin asked, brushing his lips over her cheek as if he could sample the pleasure coming off her. "Your dream lover?"

Her parted lips formed a guileless smile. "He does exactly what you want to do. Aladdin..."

Her thighs tightened on his hand as her hands flew to his waistband, working with impressive control to undo the sash that held his sirwal up. It had not even unspooled before she had his trousers down around his hips, not caring where they fell, only that he was exposed. If the size of his manhood gave her pause, she didn't show it, grabbing him almost painfully.

Jasmine stroked him with one hand, pulled his body close with the other. Her efforts were unpracticed but her enthusiasm was contagious. He kissed her again, fingering her as her hand rode his cock. Now he dared to use his free hand to explore her body, squeezing her breasts, her hips, her ass. She was like pure gold: firm, but yielding to the touch. And precious. Undeniably precious.

Her nethers clutched at his fingers. He let her have them. "Stop, stop," she said suddenly, and he pulled his hands back, stilled his lips, worried he'd hurt or offended her.

"What is it?" he asked, struggling not to drown her in apologies.

"I was about to—I almost..." She grinned shakily. She wasn't in pain; just the opposite.

"That's a problem?"

"No, it isn't; I just want to come with you inside me." Her vast amber eyes looked up at him, tugged at him. "If that's alright with you."

He huffed a laugh. "I can learn to live with it."

And he barely gave himself time to kiss her before she was flipped on her back, his body crashing between her legs, parting them as his hand gripped his rod and led it to her entrance—

An arrow hit the bed between their spread legs.

He eyed her. "That's never happened to me before, I swear."

Pushing Jasmine against the headboard and protectively backing into her, Aladdin looked around to see a cadre of guards piercing the room's many veils, some with swords drawn, some with arrows nocked, none looking happy to see him. They weren't rank-and-file guards either; by the feminine sway of their bodies under skintight black robes and the balaclavas that covered everything but their diamond-hard eyes, it was the Royal Guard. All female to ensure they wouldn't interfere with any of the virgins under their protection.

"To the dungeon with him!" the leader shouted, aim coming to rest on Aladdin's head. "He's defiled the princess!"

"To be fair," Aladdin said as manacles were dangled before him, "we were still warming up for the defilement..."