So it turned out I wasn't that happy with how this story was going, and redid part of it (ie the last two chapters). I figured I could do better, really; a lot was going on the past months. However it means Jafar might be a girl for a while longer, lol (mainly as I figured it will suit the story better). To any still following and putting up with me, my apologies for the slow updates but then I do feel so much better about the story now.

A huge thanks to Kheelwithit (yep, Ekaterina was there. She isn't quite the bane of Sinbad's existence too. As he has a way of getting out of bad situations I think),

lovelymagic (a few things will be revealed over what Jafar remembers. But yep he's pretty hateful and bitter and Sinbad...isn't. I'll try to do a good job with Falan, anyhow. The offer's there if you want me to check over everything, even if I've just taken two months off writing myself. And so Jafar's been a girl for that long...ouch),

SilverEcstasy (I tend to feel bad inflicting my bad typos on people, to be honest :p. I'll try to ask though and thanks for your help. And no problems I tend to mention your help whenever I can),

Akumarayne (well, writing female character is a new one for me, and I have mixed feelings on it. But its all ending up with Jafar more and more angry, so I'm cool with that part. Also sorry I haven't been much help lately),

Green Sphynx (Sinbad's always up to something I think, especially when he claims not to be. Jafar isn't really doing his best work though, is he? Sinbad will regret this but well, that's the fun),

nevertheless (thanks a lot! I'm having fun with it and figuring Jafar out. Sorry for the delay in an update),

Kujo Kasuza Jafar's not really so professional right now. And Sinbad was pretty much floored by things. I should be updating quicker (hopefully...)

MyLittleViolet its a lot of fun working Jafar out as a character, and thank you that means a lot. I'll keep trying hard with it anyway. The smut was...oh, something new for me, lol

YuneTheQuetzalcoatl it's been a while updating, but I redid some stuff. Thanks a lot, and I hopefully should be updating faster now (unless I decide to randomly rewrite things again. It's fun and tiring when that happens xD)

Thanks to everyone reading etc, anyway. It takes me a while but I get there eventually...sort of. Enjoy~

Impossible Prey

Jafar had fled to the countryside, more than keen to leave the lupanar and that damned bastard Sinbad behind him. Given his current appearance, naked and still trapped within that clumsy and useless body, the assassin felt it would be too dangerous to stay in Remona. So he had run, retreating through field after field until he could endure more. Finally he cursed loudly as he came to an abrupt halt; red-faced and out of breath as he stooped to grip his knees and steady himself. Falan, that fucking unimaginable bitch, was going to pay for this. Why the fuck had the stupid woman suggested that he, Jafar of all people, should sneak into a pleasure house and impersonate a hostess? Why had he agreed to such a ridiculous thing in the first place? This was all to humiliate him, he was certain of it; the very moment he had been cursed by her foul magic everything had gone so abysmally wrong.

He gritted his teeth; he knew the very moment he saw that woman he'd want to kill her. After all, if it wasn't for her interference he'd still be in the capital. Even now he could have been working towards stalking and murdering that seemingly impossible prey of his.

Forcing himself to remain calm he scanned over the hills, spotting a stream running a jagged path through them and headed for it. After all, he was still very much streaked in the blood of that man, and its sickly, coppery scent proved somewhat distracting. To think not even an hour had passed since he had escaped that man's clutches; a touch he remembered still a little too clearly. He could still picture his dagger, stabbing deeply into the man's palm, and watching the pain darken those handsome features in such a satisfying way. The same expression which had gradually morphed to confusion, or perhaps shock, once Jafar made the mistake of uttering his own name. He hadn't expected Sinbad to remember it; he didn't even remember telling that man such a thing. In fact it wasn't something he had told anyone.

Well, who fucking cared about that? It was just a name. The only real reason he had never divulged it was due to his moronic subordinates seeming more than happy to keep referring to him as "chief" all these years. He slipped down into the cold and clear water before closing his eyes. He forced himself to relax in the shallow stream, and allowed his thoughts to escape him...

... Jafar could almost picture it; that small and foul-smelling cubicle with its peeling, discoloured walls and an unpleasantly sticky floor. It was as though he was back there, lying on its concrete bed and propped up on his elbows as he watched the man above disrobe before returning to loom over him. Gradually the target of the would-be murderer met his eyes, offering an annoyingly smug and satisfied grin. Sinbad's expression was warm as he looked over the assassin's body, admiring its exposed curves with a lecherous hunger in his eyes. He leaned in, pressing Jafar down into the cheap blankets as if to trap him there.

Why was he even thinking of this? Perhaps it was due to the same curiosity Jafar had felt back then; that this wasn't the same as a quick, often violent fuck between two men before they went their separate ways. It felt different, he knew that as Sinbad took to leaving a trail of soaking licks down his body; his chest, his stomach, and then down further. Frustrated and confused, Jafar felt his fingernails to bite painfully into the itching blankets as he willed himself not to utter a sound. He did, gasping of course in that damned Falan's annoying voice; and certainly loud enough to fill such a tiny room. He panted, glaring there against the misted stone as his sweaty and tired body slowly succumbed to the same writhing as it had not even an hour before.

Perhaps he wanted to know what would have come next? He made no move to stop this, even if Sinbad was too fucking slow. He wanted this fleeting urge to be expelled from his body, yet Sinbad it seemed was a little torturous than that. Jafar knew that much as he felt calloused fingertips pinch and squeeze softly at the erected nubs of his chest, and he reached to hold his partner's large hands there. The times Jafar had enjoyed sex really weren't like this; those times he was in control, the times where he could do whatever he wished before getting back to what really mattered. Which was killing; forwarding his schemes to escape this shitty existence he had always been trapped in.

But this time it wasn't him in control; it was Sinbad. His prey was a man who, like Jafar, was used to doing things his way. He continued to grasp at the hands groping and massaging circles over his chest. He even allowed his thighs to be parted, and that man didn't waste a moment snaking in between them. He couldn't hide his enjoyment; his breath coming in agonising pants as he felt increasingly desperate. A slight laugh reached him, as if that fucking bastard expected him to end up this needy and pathetic.

That pissed him off more than anything; Jafar had been so confident he was one step ahead, that Sinbad was an impulsive moron. Right now, it just felt as if the assassin was losing this game, and playing straight into his hands. As he was met with the warm, lapping sensation of a tongue, grazing slowly back and forth over the smoothed skin between his legs a sharp hiss escaped him. His thighs gripped possessively around the man's broad shoulders to bring him closer; his body heating up and tingling. He bit his lip to muffle a further gasp as his body twitched, trying not to focus on those wet, sucking sounds which were slowly working his body to a frenzy.

That perverted man had forced him to think such deviant thoughts; it was his fault as much as Falan's. He didn't want this – to be fucked whilst in this state. As much as Jafar was content to admit certain truths about himself – albeit silently – this wasn't one of them. He couldn't accept having sex as a woman, let alone one looking like Falan. Nor could he actually want it to happen, neither as an assassin, nor as a man. Not to mention this was Sinbad on top of him, the target of his seething hatred all these long years. It was maddening, and he wouldn't lose to him again. However that lecherous drunk had gotten him to fantasise about this, he couldn't allow it...

"...So, this is where you ran off to, chief..."

His eyes opened to the sound of that unpleasant voice reaching him; that fucking annoying, simpering tone he had known and feared for so long. Of course, it was Falan's voice.

Somehow, that damned woman was always able to find him. He had no idea how she did it, and just assumed it was something to do with her magic and his rukh. It just meant he could never escape her, even if her being here might mean he could return to the capital soon. He didn't think of it much, instead focusing more on the inexplicable and charged sensation building up inside him. Perhaps washing his prey's blood from his body had done more for him than Jafar had expected. His head lolled back against the grassy embankment behind him, a low and content sigh escaping his lips.

Falan watched him quietly from the other side of the steam with a curious look in her eyes. What the fuck was that bitch doing; admiring his body in such a perverse way? However, he steadily realised she was more interested in the shallow pool he was sitting in. Her features were veiled as usual, yet her eyes seemed not as lifeless and cold as they usually did. Instead, they were lit up with an emerald glimmer of amusement which made the assassin feel uneasy. He followed her gaze, the awkward and uncomfortable realisation dawning on him of what she was watching. And what that pleasant feeling inside of him was. The fingers of Jafar's left hand were delving down under the lapping waves in a series of methodical and teasing motions. Quickly they drew back and forth between his legs, his thighs squeezing around his hand as if to keep it touching him.

Jafar froze. Whatever sordid fantasy he thought of concerning Sinbad it had led to this awkward situation; his touching himself, whilst in this copy of Falan's body, and with the magician herself watching him. It was one of the more disturbing experiences he could remember. His expression darkened before he slowly drew back his guilty hand. In a moment his face and body burned in humiliation and anger. This time he couldn't even stop himself; he would fucking kill her for seeing this. Her power wasn't even considered as he grasped at his weapons lying behind him and rushed forward, snarling.

No; he'd rather fucking die than have that bitch taunt him over this.

Effortlessly he vaulted over that low stretch of water, the surrounding air twisting before darkening abruptly. It screamed shrilly in his ears, terrible as it tore violently at his skin and hair. His heart seemed frozen in his chest as he realised that this was the full force of Falan's magic striking him, and it smelled so rancid and foul he felt himself retch from it. Something constructed of only black mist and dark shadows, shrouded in tight and pale robes, passed through his body. Like a vengeful spirit the magician re-materialised on the far bank of the stream to overlook its cold waters. Jafar was left staggering, nauseous, before gagging and falling to his knees.

Falan had so effortlessly escaped such a lacklustre attempt on her life, of course. Jafar had barely even seen her move. That magic was so inhuman, so cold that it somehow seemed beyond his comprehension. But then, that was why he feared her. He stumbled to his feet, nervousness overcoming him as he considered what she might do to him. As he turned he was met with a bundle of dark, ragged material hitting him square in the face. It fell as he failed to catch it, unfurling slowly in the long grass in a dishevelled and pitiful heap. Instantly he recognised it as his clothing, and the very same garments Falan had taken from him just before he had met Sinbad back in the lupanar.

In a way it was depressing, as well as sobering. She considered so little of Jafar's ill-conceived attempt on her life she didn't even comment on it. She just regarded him as if such a thing hadn't happened.

"You didn't need to stop," Falan kept talking. If Jafar didn't know better, he would have thought somehow she sounded disappointed.

He didn't care, keeping his back to her as he dressed. Jafar was sure she was watching him, perhaps admiring the changes her magic had upon his body. He pulled the long and dark throbe over his head silently, paying no mind to the fact he was shivering or that his skin was still damp. He even paid no mind to how the thing material felt stretched and uncomfortable over his chest. "...Next fucking time, tell me you're there. Do you have no sense of privacy?" he hissed.

"Hm? You're planning to do that again?" ...no he fucking well wasn't. If only he could kill her...he thought of that for a moment, trying to calm himself. But then, what if he had managed to? Would the magician's death mean that he would be trapped like this, in a female body forever? Or would it mean that the curse would end? He had no idea either way, but didn't want to risk it. He drew up, keen to retain at least a fragment of his fractured pride by not responding. "I was going to ask why you're here. I gave you that body so you could seduce and kill that man. Not run away."

"I will be. Once you've changed me back," he told her in an acidic tone as he turned to face her.

"There were problems?" she knew there was, of course. Peering over at Jafar, she might even have a good idea what those problems were. Given the assassin had run, and was doing such a thing to himself, it was unfortunately obvious what had happened. "Or – perhaps it went very well. Did you enjoy him, then?" she asked, looking over his horrified expression. "If so, what was so terrible? It must have been nice giving in to such a handsome man..."

...Handsome? That might be the case, but it was something Jafar was trying to ignore currently. "Shut up. It wasn't anything like that?"

"Wasn't it?" she interrogated in that annoying, simpering voice of hers. "I've not seen you react like that to a man before. As long as you had killed him, you could have enjoyed him if you really wanted to."

"'If I wanted to'? Think about what you're saying. I didn't go there to have sex with him. It's your fault – what this body is like," somehow he doubted she believed that. He wasn't sure he did. but then, it was definitely not something he'd admit to someone he despised. "I hate him. And I will kill him. I didn't ask for you to do this to me. It was what you did..." he felt his grip tighten on his weapons involuntarily. "You didn't help at all, making me like this made it worse. And you just did it to amuse yourself, didn't you?"

A rusty eyebrow arched at him and she leaned forward on her staff. "Of course. You've been entertaining over the years, chief, and one I could have killed long ago. Remember that."

Jafar sighed. "I thought as much. But you've had your fun now; just change me back so I can kill him."

"Change you back? So you give up?" Falan asked him calmly, and he froze. So, it was like that? She really wasn't going to change him back until Sinbad was dead? He should have expected that. "You knew what you agreed to when I gave you this chance. You say I made it more difficult, but you admitted that it was your best chance. Aren't you up for the challenge? Or are you that incompetent?" he glared; she knew he wasn't. Aside from Sinbad, a target had never escaped him; even if admittedly that man had evaded him many times. "You look like me; you can't be that bad as a woman."

On the contrary, Jafar wasn't sure Falan was what constituted a good woman. But then it wasn't as if he had met many women in the twenty years of his life. "I'll manage, then. I just won't let him touch me again..." he sighed. "I can't give up, can I? I have to get back there."

"No. And you know this is your last chance. You've failed to kill him so many times now. If you give up, it's the end. For you. For your guild. Everyone...Mahad...Vittel..." he nodded slowly. Really it wasn't as though Jafar gave a shit about those incompetent morons. But he wasn't going to allow Falan to kill anyone who was a subordinate of his. "You have your clothes, and I can tell you were he is. So stop complaining and get back there."

"Tell me where he is then."

"As you might have guessed, he's staying in the best place he could in Remona," that much made sense. From his previous encounters with his prey, Sinbad travelled as well as he could these days. Unfortunately that meant going to the north most part of Remona; somewhere heavily guarded, and what might be dangerous for Jafar. But then, what other choice did he have."

He nodded sharply, and had already turned away from her. He didn't want to endure Falan any longer than he needed to. "I'll come back here tomorrow. When I do, Sinbad will be dead."

"So you say. But don't come running back to me if you mess up again."

He would have retorted, but the truth was Jafar was surprised she had been so agreeable. Given all that had happened, Falan could have destroyed him. She didn't even need a reason, like his attacking her or the fact he had made demands of her. Past finding Jafar amusing the magician could destroy him – and Sham Lash – without any further thought. It scared him; the very thought that everything he had could be ended so quickly and easily by her magic made him feel helpless. He hated that. As before all of his hopes relied on this plan; that killing Sinbad and stealing his vessels would grant the assassin the power to in turn kill that bitch. If not, at least he would live a little longer.

Without another word, Jafar began to retrace his steps towards Reim. He forced himself to push any thoughts of Sinbad from his mind; and promised himself such things would never happen again. His plan was simple; he'd go to where his prey was staying, and wait until he slept. From there, it was just as simple as awaiting the perfect moment to strike...