you'd already driven jaafar mad with need. at every event, he kept an observant eye on who you talked to, how you moved when speaking, the hand that sheltered your smile after every laugh.
you were an itch he desperately needed to scratch—and he was finally fed up with the throbbing beneath his couturier pants after eyeing the way your lips wrapped around your glass, attention taken by the droning public-speakers.
jaafar decided that you could miss the next speech. it’d be dull, anyway.
now, he has you on your knees as his suit-jacket shields your dress from the bathroom floor. when you look up, your met with puppy-brown eyes and a thin line on his lips. jaafar’s impassive, until he talks;
"you look real good down there."
simple, straight forward, able to mask what he sincerely wants to say. you are determined to break that restraint.
your hasty as you unfasten his fly, sinking the silk 'till it rests just below his length. he's long, irritated, eager beneath his briefs.
you raise your hand and are left dumbfounded at the way your fingers shrink when they meet with his clothed dick.
a smirk teases his lips at your goggling before an expansive hand rests against the crown of your head. it’s like like he's trying to cradle you back into reality—reminding you of the job ahead.
"you gon' be okay to take it?"
each inch of his body is something that seems etched around his soul—his fingers are long, his thighs soft on the surface, yet tense under your fingers as you strip him of his boxers. you respond by taking him into your mouth.
you want to slow your time with him. no, you need time to appreciate the man that stands above you.
in this light, though the scene appears gritty, jaafar jackson cleanses the space with his mere presence.
his sigh as you lap at his beating length is symphonic. his head tips back like even the balminess of your tongue is too much. so, you lick again, and again, and cherish the salty beads of pre-cum that leak out of the pink slit.
"c'mon, yeah..." he urges, face finally looking to your figure below. his brows are pinched like he's fixed on your form, his lip bitten raw by pearly teeth. heat spreads through you as you watch his adams-apple dance with each lick.
"need your mouth around me... been needing it." he's all whiney and sulky like he couldn't just push himself into your mouth with one thrust and you'd be crying in gratitude.
but you want to torment him, desperate beyond belief to watch his otherwise monotonous expression become drunk with desire.
you give jaafar what he wants. your mouth envelopes his tip and you suck, tongue working around the tender head.
he weeps as a hand meets the wall behind your head, seeking balance as his unmoved facade wanes with your touch.
"fuck! thas' it, jus' like that..."
you inhale one last time before your lips move past the tip and aim for the crest that meets with his subtle snail-trail.
jaafar's jaw hangs lose and he’s ready to howl—but as you take him, his voice exposed to the tightness of your throat, nothing escapes. he can only ogle at the way his dick disappears down what seems to be your inexhaustible throat.
jaafar collects himself as you rise from base to tip, his trembling fingers tucking a stray strand of hair behind your ear.
he’s not new to this—not by a mile. but with the way you meld to him as though he’s made to bury himself inside, or the way a squeak trickles up your throat and judders against his dick, he's sure he's never felt anything like it—like you.
it's engulfing in a way that has him fighting the urge to fuck into you and finish in your mouth just to watch you swallow his seed. then, he'd get hard again at the thought of it buried inside your tummy and fuck you against the sink just to make sure any sign of him on you stays.
" jus' do that again for me, huh? take me aaaall the way down your throat."
and you do exactly that. you swallow him inch by irresistible inch and dig your heel into your core when he lets out a muffled groan.
his hand finds camp on your crown as he smooths your hair down, dragging any vagrant pieces from your face.
"look up here." he speaks through laboured breath.
when you look up, eyes wide and glossy, makeup escaping from your lower lids, he throws his head back. jaafar has every urge to devour you—and somehow, there'd not be enough time.
how cruel of the earth to put you in a public bathroom during a timed ceremony if he could not care for your body the way it warrants.
but you have no care for time. you want him to burst in your mouth and come with a cry—and you are more than okay to rock yourself back-and-fourth on your heel as long as you come with him.
jaafar pauses his patting, looks down to you again, and watches in awe as your body shifts to-and-fro, begging for any type of friction.
"i’m bein' so selfish, i know...i’m sorry, i can't help it... feels too good." he began, thumb finding an orphaned tear that’d dribbled down your cheek as you take him to the back of your throat.
"wan’ help you so bad... you can touch yourself, how about tha', huh?" his abs tense as you whine against him.
"make me feel better if you did. let yourself go as i stuff your mouth full, yeah?" he doesn't have to repeat himself as your hand jostles your dress up your thighs and your fingers find that syrupy spot between your legs.
"feel better?" you nod against his length, breathing potholed as your nose fights for air. soon, that soft and somewhat tender hand on your head is tousled in your hair, guiding you with his rocking hips.
"so grateful your lettin’ me use your mouth—shit!—can't thank you enough." his words make it to your ears and shoot straight to your core, thighs clenching around your own fingers.
but there was something missing. his hips stutter.
jaafar, ever the gentlemen, wants to ask you questions, needs to know how your feeling—even now, on the floor of a public bathroom.
so, he paces his thrusts, watches your lipstick smear his dick in all kinds of pretty blushed shades, before you feel him twitching in your mouth. he pulls out with an aggrieved expression and takes his own dick in his palm, using your saliva to sluggishly pump himself.
"'wan’ hear you finish as i come in your mouth."
you groan through wavering breath, throat uncomfortably empty of him."you feelin' good down there? fuckin' your own fingers gon’ make you come?"
it’s impossible to respond as what feels to be a frenzied tide works its way into your crux. jaafar moves his free hand to your chin, forcing your focus from his dick to his eyes as he continues working himself. "words. need to hear 'em."
"y-yes! feel s' good..."
"mhm, me too."
he drinks in the sight of you kneeling before him—how your digits disappear beneath the pool of your dress, the muddied lipstick staining your chin toning perfectly with the colour on his length, the laboured breath escaping in all kinds of beautiful pulses.
his dick throbs in his palm as the hand just on your chin tumbles to the wall.
jaafars unable to hold himself up.
his entire gut threatens to stretch and pull 'till white spurts of come land on your mascara-clad eyelashes.
but he waits. his hand halts completely as he edges his orgasm, followed by a string of slurred curses. even in lust, jaafar waits for you to finish before him, like he's opening a door for you or pulling out your chair in a restaurant.
"wan' taste you again, j!" the view from above you has you keening. jaafar's eyes are wet, expansive, looking at you like if he watches the hand working at your slick with enough verve it'll turn into his.
"no, no... wan’-" jaafar's cut short by his own whine, “wan’ keep listenin' to how wet you are for me."
you grant his wish. two fingers play at your entrance before sinking in. your quick to discover your rapid beat, working yourself open as the 'schlick schlick' of your pussy earns him another throaty cry.
"fuck, wan’ give her all my attention." you swear jaafar starts salivating as each words torn to shreds by his panting.
"close! i-i'm close!" your voice is the green light that has him swerving into desire.
you eye the once stagnant wrist now shifting between his thighs. he's leaking, drool and pre-cum a delicious mix of lube for his fingers as they work at his base, thumb sliding across the irritated tip.
"i know, pretty girl, me too."
your mewling as your orgasm darkens your paper view, leaving only the sight of jaafars fucked-out expression ahead.
working for that very look—the bottom lip raw between his teeth, sweat a thin layer against his dark skin, suit in shambles around his collar and crotch—was worth every gag and groan.
"you gon’ come with me? yeah?"
you can only counter with a doleful nod before your orgasm is splitting you in two. your neck cranes backward, chest heaving, body shuddering with each final stroke inside your own devastatingly wet entrance.
yet the thing that buries you in your end isn’t your own fingers—it’s the filth falling from jaafar's mouth as his climax creeps through the creases of his abs.
'lookin' so fuckin' good.' 'makin' a goddamn mess on your hand.' 'so beautiful, even in this filthy place.'
his voice is nowhere near you, yet the intimacy of his words makes them feel like they’re spoken against the crest of your neck, heating your already slick skin.
"open up." jaafar rumbles, noting the visible haze that coats your eyes when you don’t answer. instead, he takes your jaw in his thumb and pointer finger and squeezes 'till it pops open for him.
"your gon' take this like I know you can." not even seconds pass before your mouth is coated in warm, salty bursts of come. you lap up every last drop.
jaafar hasn't even had the chance to caress or appreciate your soft skin, yet his seed is already varnishing the throat that's now molded to the earth-shattering size of him.
it's all so filthy and foul, yet somehow, the boy you kneel below is too pure to possibly be a sin.
you hope the next speech is just as boring as the first.
A/N wrote this in one sitting,, hence the no caps or spell-check. so if there's mistakes mb! also, part two of bestfriendsbrother!jaafar is being worked on and is currently at 5k words... sorry. thanks for all ur support ily𑁤
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