Okay so I've been on an Aladdin kick lately and came across a prompt on the Disney Kink meme.

Prompt: Ignoring the events of the movie, Jafar takes Aladdin in off the street, at first as a lackey to do things and go places he can't go as the Vizier, but somehow, eventually, he ends up as Jafar's boy toy.

So I couldn't resist writing something and while I don't know if anyone will read it, or like it, I just had to write it.

Hope you enjoy!

Growing up on the streets of Agrabah was not all singing and dancing or fun and games. No, it was not an adventure to be had; it was a cruel and harsh life. For children without family it meant doing anything for food. Anything. While some got by with begging from the rich or the generous, the two rarely ever went hand in hand, most turned to a life of crime. For some it was stealing what they could, some were lucky enough to be fast and could therefore outrun the sharp eyed shopkeepers and the always watching guards. For others, once they were old enough, or beautiful enough as the case may be, a life of selling themselves on the streets awaited. Boys and girls it rarely mattered, people were all too willing to pay for a child's innocence.

For those lucky enough to have families, life was usually better. Shopkeepers were more inclined to trust them, over those poor orphans that seemed to litter the streets at every turn. And money was far less of an issue. Now for the older residents of the slums, those without family that is, life usually went one of three ways. They got a job working in the marketplace, quite a rarity as shopkeepers were notoriously stingy, unwilling to pay for help. Not to mention they rarely trusted those from the streets.

Another option, quite a popular one for sure, was to sell their bodies. Those that chose this option, provided they had the looks for it, if they were smart they'd petition to join one of the many brothels littering the streets. After all they promised beds, food and shelter; far more than they'd have living on their own. Not to mention the ever important protection from the guards. Far too many prostitutes had been thrown in the dungeons at the hands of guards. For failing to pay imaginary fines, or failing to let the guards have a taste of their bodies, the reasons were rarely divulged. What was sure however was that once sent to the dungeons, they were rarely allowed back out.

Now the final option was not for the faint of heart, the life of a thief was a controversial one to be sure. After all they stole from whoever they could, though they usually left the poor to their own misery. Rather than earn an honest keep, unlike those who chose the other options, they chose to take what wasn't theirs for themselves. Of course you could hardly blame them; it wasn't like they chose to for the thrill of it. Much like those who sold their bodies in order to survive, the thieves sold their souls in order to stay standing. Without stealing they would have no food, without food they would die. It was as simple as that, and besides, the prices the markets would charge were criminal themselves. It was no wonder there were more thieves springing up every day. Of course for every thief that arrived, one inevitably died. For most it was at the hands of the guards or the shopkeepers. If it weren't a blade slicing off their limbs, leaving them to bleed out in the middle of the streets, it was being bludgeoned or beaten and whipped until they could no longer stand. For others it was after slipping from a roof, or from a clothesline breaking under their weight. It was a common problem for many thieves, when they were just starting out at least. Of course the way to survive was to be as skinny as they could stand, that way the ropes could support them and allow them to escape. For those lucky enough to survive the fall, they rarely survived being captured by the guards. At least not with their limbs intact.

Now as with every story out there, there was bound to be an exception to this rule, and there was. His name was Aladdin, a boy from the slums. Just barely into adulthood with his whole life ahead of him. With black hair and brown eyes he could easily blend into the market crowds. He was pretty no denying, after all his parents had been the perfect clichéd couple; his mother a great beauty and his father a dashing rogue. It was only to be expected that their child would be beautiful. Of course living on the streets being attractive was as much a blessing as it was a curse. Being charming, flirtatious and kind just added to the boy's problems. It made it far too easy to notice him and his infectious smile, and on a place like the streets the last thing you wanted was attention. Of course it wasn't that people didn't like him, they did. Especially the women and children. He had after all developed a habit of giving his own food to those he felt needed it more, whether it be an old beggar, cast out for being another mouth to feed, or a weak child without a parent to help them survive. And should he ever see a lady in trouble he usually made an effort to help them, provided he was fit enough to do so. After all he did grow up on the streets, and like everyone else he experienced the same hunger pangs, the constant cold chilling his bones during the harsh desert nights, and the searing burning that came with being out all day in the hot sun. He was like everyone else, he just happened to be prettier than most. And you can be sure it didn't go unnoticed.

Now Jafar was a man used to getting his own way. He was Visier to the Sultan of Agrabah and you can be sure people rarely if ever had the courage to go against his wishes. While the Sultan was officially the one in power, the man was too soft, too cuddly to be anything other than something for the public to adore. No, the true man in power was Jafar, and he made sure everyone around him knew it.

Of course not everyone was so appreciative of the man's efforts to bring the city to power. The Sultan's teenage daughter, Jasmine, was particularly vocal in her dislike of the man. As stroppy, spoiled little princesses usually are. Of course her father paid her no mind, she knew nothing of running a country and her only real dislike of the man was in his appearance. He didn't meet her high standards of physical beauty; therefore she had no wish to be near him. Of course his own dislike of her didn't help. After all who could stand being near a whiny teenager day in and out without a rest? Even her great physical beauty wasn't enough for him to ignore the rest of her flaws. She knew nothing of the world, having grown up in her sheltered privileged little world, and yet she had the nerve to criticise his decisions at every turn. She'd never even been outside the palace walls and yet she acted as though she knew more about running a kingdom than he did. It was positively insulting, and to think she even seemed to think he had feelings for her. Where on earth did she get such an idea? It was truly baffling.

But the princess wasn't the worst of Jafar's problems, no. His problems all stemmed from the incompetence of those he sent to do his bidding. Even a simple trip to the market to bring him supplies, seemed all too much for the fools that worked in the palace. He'd lost count of the number of times the eager, young men and women returned from the market, with broken goods if they brought anything back at all. They all failed to comprehend that wearing fine clothes, symbolising their positions in the palace, only made them easy targets once outside the palace walls. As such they often found themselves robbed, by thief or shopkeeper it didn't matter. It always ended the same, missing either money or goods and forced to return empty handed to their master. Those that returned were often never seen again. Of course failing to return meant a bounty was placed on their heads. And there were precious few places they could hide from detection. Jafar was not a man to be crossed after all.

That left the problem of who he could trust to carry out what should have been a simple task. It had to be someone with sense, someone who wasn't yet another brainless dolt. But most importantly it had to be someone honest, or at the very least someone with enough common sense to know that stealing from Jafar would be the last thing they ever did.

So like with every clichéd story out there, where two characters with very different purposes meet, go through an adventure and eventually fall in love, that's pretty much what happened with Aladdin and Jafar. Obviously without all the singing and dancing that such stories always seemed to have in spades. Of course the falling in love was a bit of a stretch as well. More a one-sided case of lust at first sight, with the other powerless to go against his superior.

Well anyway, the point is it all started the moment these two met. And like so many stories before this, it involved an encounter with the palace guards.

I'd really appreciate any reviews letting me know what you think. It is a little short, since it's just the prologue but it will get longer. I've also started the second chapter already so another update shouldn't be far off, providing people show interest in this.

Although I'd prefer no fames over the pairing, there's a reason it's called fanfiction after all.

KB