Three Wishes

Chapter 3 - Different Than Agrabah

Long tan legs the color of caramel and smooth as melted chocolate, bright red cheeks like ripe summer apples and uncharacteristically wide lilac eyes, uncovered for once as a large hand removed the dark glasses that usually hid them: the genie looked like a feast made for kings, and for once in his life, Jorgen almost felt obliged to thank Timmy Turner. But that could wait till later. Now, he had other, far more interesting things to attend to.

He almost didn’t know where to start. The beautiful masterpiece finally seemed content to simply lie there, though if his trembling auburn body and rapidly fluttering chest were any sign, he didn’t look very much at peace. As Jorgen watched, the mystic clenched and unclenched his fingers several times in the sheets, as if willing himself into a calm in preparation for something horrible to come. His eyes had fallen shut, but when the fairy made no move to proceed, they eventually ventured open again, a strange look swirling in the perplexed purple depths.

“Well?” The genie finally prompted, his voice obviously at a forced calm, anger, fear, and confusion lingering just beneath the false tranquility. Frowning, Jorgen took a moment before he spoke.

“You look…unhappy.”

Norm rolled his eyes, and for a moment, the tension left the air as he returned to his usual sarcastic ways. “No, Jorgey-Poo, I’m absolutely peachy…why on earth would I be unhappy? I just love getting ordered around like a pretty brainless sex toy, fucked up the ass whenever my master feels like it, and eventually shoved away in the end when I get boring…” Jorgen didn’t look pleased. “You know, I suppose I should be happy I’ve avoided situations like this for several hundred years, but good things can’t last forever, can they? I almost considered, I don’t know, dropping a few…hints?”

A sign appeared over the spread genie, large black lettering announcing: ‘Look, don’t touch.’ “Or maybe…” The sign changed, popping away before coming up with a new phrase: ‘Dicks are for chicks.’ “Possibly even…” Again, the lettering disappeared, this time returning with: ‘Touch my ass and DIE.’ “But I haven’t quite determined yet whether your brain capacity matches or exceeds that of a squirrel, so I didn’t want to give you the headache of trying to read.” Above the muttering genie, Jorgen scowled. “Besides…in the end, there’s really nothing I can do about it, so I may as well just give up now, right?” The sign disappeared altogether. “It’s not like I can’t take it…it may have been awhile, but if you endure it once, you can endure it a thousand times…so I concede.” A small white flag popped into the genie’s hand as he waved it idly before him. “Do whatever the hell you want…just please…no broken bones? They still seem to hurt no matter how many times you fix them…”

For a moment, the fairy didn’t say a word, and Norm had almost began to wonder if he ever would again when his expression mutated. If the look had been directed at anyone but him, he would have pitied that person, but unfortunately, he was the only one in the room, and he resisted the urge to shut his eyes tight and magically create a last will and testament. If he’d had any possessions to give, or anyone to give his possessions to, he might have. Then, just when he expected to be obliterated from the face of the fairy universe, Jorgen spoke again, his tone so similar to a predatory growl, Norm barely made out the words.

“Who hurt you?” Too shocked to reply, and frankly still getting over the fact that he hadn’t died, the genie simply stared wide-eyed and unresponsive until the fairy shouted again. “SHOW ME!”

At that, Norm opened his mouth, a panicked objection on the tip of his tongue before magic went to work, and he could only choke on the words, fear swelling up in his chest as the world around them faded, unlimited genie magic whisking the both of them away simultaneously to a long distant past.

A room came into view, exotically furnished with fine silks and veils draped from every possible angle. Brightly colored rugs littered the floor, weaved into various complicated patterns, and intricately carved statuette figures lined tables and bookshelves, but besides all this, one center point piece of furniture dominated the room. A bed, so coated with pillows, satin and lace that one almost feared to touch it for fear of ruining its splendor, sat in the heart of everything: a king among peasants. Then, two figures marred the perfection.

The first seemed to match, like a finely engraved statue, just one more treasured ornament to add to the room. Obsidian hair, black as the night sky itself, draped over the slender man’s back like a dark curtain, one more fine cloth amidst the others as it swayed with his walk. Gold bracelet cuffs bound his wrists and his forearms, another about his neck, and a single matching earring pierced his right ear. Most startling of all however, were his eyes, a violet sea of purple torment as his companion ordered him roughly to the bed.

The second man might have looked less out of place in a Buddha shrine, if not for the lavish rings anointing his every finger, jeweled turban atop his head and cream silks trapping his largely obese body, at least for the moment, within the confines of exquisite cloths.

What followed after was a series of scenes, some involved blood, metal and pain, others not as bad, but all involved those self same violet eyes, and each time, the hope in them dimmed to a duller and duller flame. The décor changed. He went from silks to rags to riches to mud covered streets, but the initial event never went away. As time sped up, the flashbacks going by faster and faster as they came closer to the present, the figure adapted, fitting in to new lifestyles and times until briefly, an image of the present Norm flashed by, in a tub with Jorgen himself before the entire thing faded away.

When they both came back to reality, the genie had his eyes shut tight, his chest rising and falling rapidly as if going back through the images had pained him somehow. Then, a touch brushed over his cheek and his eyes shot wide before narrowing. “You told me to show you…and I-“ Lips blocked his, startling him into perfect silence before the fairy backed off and met his gaze with a steadfast confidence.

“This is not Agrabah.” Powerful hands ran down a smooth toffee shoulder, relishing in the flawless perfection of the genie’s skin, and Norm resisted the urge to shudder, comforted by baritone voice despite his will against it. “I will not hurt you.”

“I don’t need your pity…” The genie muttered lowly, trying to sound agitated or at least defensive, but failing in nearly every respect as the other’s lips met his again.

“You don’t have it.” Jorgen assured, and from there, Norm didn’t care whether he was giving himself over to an idiot or a genius, a fairy or a sultan, he just knew he couldn’t escape anymore, and if the fairy didn’t ask any more questions…he wouldn’t have to admit that he didn’t want to.

Firm kisses worked Norm’s mouth into submission, parting his lips like soft petals on a new bud and easing them apart until a hungry tongue could snake its way inside, marking and claiming small hot cavern as fairy property. Calloused hands traveled without direction or purpose, simply moving to touch, feel, and explore every dip and curve in the lean body beneath them, and, as the genie quickly discovered, appearances were deceiving. Though large and bulky at first glance, Jorgen’s hands had learned how to move on the body of a woman, and they kept their gentle habits even when it came to roaming on another man. His touches brushed and strayed, grazing softly over areas that made the genie’s breath catch, then moving on, never lingering in one place long, and soon, though Norm had resigned himself long ago to never finding pleasure in such acts again, he found himself responding.

“Where would you like to be?” The base drum voice caught him off guard, causing the genie to blink with a distracted mumble as hot breath trailed over the inside shell of his ear.


“It doesn’t have to be a bed.”

At first, Norm’s thoughts summoned the image of himself against a wall, in a tub again, or bent over some desk, but apparently Jorgen had bigger plans as the entire bedroom disappeared, and they both reformed beneath an open sky. The genie shivered only to discover the fairy had at least gifted him with the decency of some cover, not his typical blue tux, or even a shirt, but a loose, pair of lightweight white pants that covered the most important things for the time being. Curling his bare feet, he found Jorgen had brought them to some distant rooftop, his toes scraping against cool, textured tiles and his eyes dancing over the open heavens above before looking out to an open prairie landscape below them.

Just as he had begun to appreciate the sight though, everything changed, and he shut his eyes against the whirling feel of movement, letting himself relax for once as warm, powerful arms encompassed him and only opening his eyes again when he felt them still. This time, they sat together on a mountain top, a crisp breeze making him shudder as it teased his bare skin, only to make the heat feel that much more potent when the fairy’s lips found his neck, careful hands sliding up his exposed back until a satisfying warmth filled him again regardless of the chilled atmosphere.

“Jorgen…” The name escaped him in a whisper of breath, cropped short as the man found the dip between his neck and collar enticing the cooled flesh to a new flushed temperature. Then, right when he felt the telltale shift that warned of another location shift, he pressed a hand to the other’s chest with a brief shake of the head. “Wait…let me.”

And with those words, the chill mountaintops faded away, a warm ocean breeze sweeping over them the next instant as the new surroundings came into place. Norm opened his eyes as he felt smooth, dry sand against his back, an endless dark sky clearly visible overhead without a single star hidden from view. When the sound of crashing waves rolled in not far away, he grinned as the fairy started in surprise, tepid water dancing up the beach just far enough to coat their feet with salty essence.

“Where are we?” Jorgen questioned in mild surprise, cupping a light handful of pearly white sand and letting it sift through his fingers like shimmering gold dust. In response, the genie only smiled, letting his eyes shut again with a look of utter peace before he replied.

“A place with only you…me…and the stars…where the rest of the world doesn’t matter at all, and reality is what we make it.” For a moment, he heard nothing; then a touch grazed his cheek with such an unsuspected tenderness, that the genie’s eyes fluttered open in surprise. Before he could get out a word however, the fairy’s lips covered his, and Norm succumbed for once to the gentle warmth slowly taking over his body, filling him up like no number of steaming cappuccinos ever could, no matter how expensively bought.

Their tongues danced, the slighter genie allowing the fairy’s occasionally aggressive forthcomings without qualm, and in a matter of minutes, both pairs of hands began to explore. As Norm’s touches wandered, he found that the more he discovered, the more Jorgen had the right to flaunt his masculinity and ‘incredible biceps’ the way he did. Perhaps the fairy did take the ego trip a little too far, but at least he had solid bragging rights.

Every place Norm’s hands traveled, he found nothing but beautiful, rippling muscle. Women had soft, smooth curves that left a man aching, but kept him at bay for fear of harming something so fragile and petite; Jorgen had curves and definition of an entirely different sort. Before he knew it, he found himself magicking away the tight green material of the man’s shirt himself, too eager to feel more of this body so perfectly male, that he didn’t have time to feel shame.

When his shirt left him unexpectedly, Jorgen paused for a moment in surprise, his eyes opening briefly only to land on a visual feast. In battles of the mind, he knew he didn’t fare too well, and when Norm sat beneath him, arguing up a storm and throwing insults at him that half the time he couldn’t even fully comprehend, he felt thoroughly put out. Now, though, the genie looked like someone else altogether, his sarcastic tongue doing nothing but returning each of his kisses with a passion, and fiery violet eyes, so often filled with begrudging contempt, shut with lazy tranquility.

After a moment, Norm seemed to notice his pause, and obsidian lashes fluttered open, revealing a sea of purple that left the fairy drowning in perfect oblivion. When a smooth, unhurried touch grazed once more over his bare chest, the once five-star general grit his teeth to suppress a growl, a low groan escaping him instead as his eyes fell shut, and the next moment, as he felt petal soft lips brushing over his own, he knew for certain the genie was smirking. That alone crumbled his restraint, and their lips came back together with almost brutal insistence, a ravenous yearning swamping over the unsuspecting fairy with voracious persistence. Like a wild beast rearing its head, his pulse suddenly seemed to leap with a newfound intensity, the roaring in his head matching the booming clap of thunder above them.

“Jorgen…” His name on the genie’s lips was no longer simply a whisper of breath, but a prayer, a command, and a plea: a siren’s spell that weaved more powerful magic than any he could ever hope to conjure in his immortal lifetime. “Jorgen, please…” A second clap of thunder preceded a white flash of lightning seconds before he felt the cooling salve of fresh rain, the first few droplets slipping over his tense, heated flesh, and leaving damp trails on his bare skin.

“Rain?” The single syllable was all the inquiry he needed to make, and the genie gave a curt nod, his breath hitching as Jorgen’s lips met once again with his throat, a slick tongue darting out to taste a mixture of salt sweat and clean rain as more, larger droplets began to fall.

“Yes,” Norm got out the word in a chopped breath, his eyes shut as his neck arched into the other’s kisses, fingers clutched at the back of the fairy’s powerful neck. “I like rain…” When Jorgen glanced up, pausing from his ministrations for one moment to lock eyes with dark violet now clouded with lust, the fairy felt his heart give an odd leap as mischief flickered briefly into the cunning look. “…I want to lick it off you.”

Jorgen’s eyes shut, his hands clenching to fists as an almost unbearable spike of heat shot through his body, gathering with painful abundance directly between his legs. “Rain. Good.”

In a different setting, Norm never would have passed up the opportunity to criticize the nearly illiterate single word sentences, but at that moment, he couldn’t have cared less if the best the man could do was grunt, so long as he eventually got that hot, hard piece of flesh in him. Preferably sooner rather than later. Then, the rain was coming down in sheets, drenching them to the core and slipping between their heated bodies like a third party added to their lovemaking. For a time, they kept up the kissing and touching regardless, but soon, it became all too much for the impatient genie, and as a cymbal crash of thunder echoed overhead, he relocated them once again, not nearly so far this time.

At first, the fairy looked startled, taking a moment to assess their position before emitting a low growl as the genie’s lips began trailing down his dripping chest, a hot tongue making good of Norm’s promise to ‘lick off’ the rain, though it did little to dry him. They both stood, still on the same beach, about twenty feet inland from the shore, the genie’s back to a large palm, and Jorgen’s arms on either side of him. As Norm dipped lower still, the fairy rapidly became very grateful for that much needed support. When tan fingers teased the line of his pants before magic destroyed his belt, the solid trunk became the only thing keeping him upright.

Cool droplets of the now-raging downpour made it through the palm leaves in no time, the scarce protection offered by the tree doing almost nothing to keep back such a pounding storm, but neither man seemed to notice. Everything revolved around two needy bodies and one primal purpose; as Norm fell to his knees before his fairy master, Jorgen had to shut his eyes to keep from exploding that very moment. Seconds later, his restraint paid off, and he let out a feral moan as hot breath seeped through the damp cloth still keeping his rigid arousal agonizingly constrained. When the genie went no further than that though, simply tormenting him teasingly through the cloth, he let out a rapid curse, his fists clenching tightly against the trunk as he swore.

“Damn, sprite!” He hissed, drawing a sharp, ragged breath as Norm pressed lips to his clothed groin with a cruel smirk. “Take it in your MOUTH!” The order left him without a second thought, but the genie didn’t seem to mind, unbuttoning and unzipping Jorgen’s military style camouflage pants the old fashion way just to leave the man taut for a few more seconds before complying with the command. Any rational thought that had ever made it into the fairy’s brain left him in that one instant.

Below him, Norm could barely take half of the hard flesh in his mouth, the aching member simply too large for more than that with his limited body size, but he quickly discovered that just half was plenty enough to work with. Much like the rest of him, Jorgen’s manhood not only outdid, but crushed, ground up, and blew away the competition. When the fairy’s hands vice grip laced through his hair, beginning an obviously restrained series of uneven, shaky thrusts into his mouth, Norm found himself moaning around the invasion, a movement that apparently caught the other’s attention, as Jorgen pulled to an instant halt when he did so.

“Again.” At first, the grunted command came so incoherent, Norm couldn’t make it out over the roar of the storm. Then, the grip in his hair tightened, and he found his back nearly pressed to the tree as Jorgen repeated it, this time at a deafening boom that outdid every clap of thunder he’d heard that night put together. “AGAIN!” And without a moment’s hesitation, the genie complied, giving a nearly purred growl around the erection between his lips, and smirking as it enticed a shudder from his partner.

If Norm could have spoken at that moment, he would have, likely to point out what a possibly dangerous position the fairy had so willingly put himself into: entrusting a genie, well known for cruel tricks, with the wholehearted possession of the very thing that made him male. But, the genie could barely breath, let alone speak, so he simply chuckled inwardly, letting his eyes drop shut as he reached up two hands to cup and fondle all the rain-drenched flesh that he couldn’t fit in his mouth.

With the spirited genie who’d haunted his every waking thought since the moment he’d laid eyes on him kneeling before him, a hot, willing mouth taking his body to new, never-before-reached pinnacles of pleasure, and his mind lost completely to the fiery haze of lust encompassing him completely, all the magic in the world couldn’t have held the fairy back much longer, and when his eyes happened to flicker down, catching sight of Norm himself dropping one tan hand from its previous endeavors to palm needily at his own untouched erection, the world disappeared. Jorgen came with a sharp, jagged mix between a cry and a snarl, his teeth grit and eyes shut as the sticky, fluid evidence of his pleasure filled the genie’s mouth below him. To his surprise, Norm accepted it, not magically dissipating it or even backing off, but taking every bit in to the best of his ability.

Naturally, considering how much the fairy drastically outsized his mystic partner, Norm was lucky to get even three quarters of it in his mouth, but the sight alone did its job on the watching bystander. By the time Norm had consumed as much as he could, disposing of the rest of it with a simple flicker of magic, Jorgen had already regained most of what he’d just finished ridding him of, sporting an erection that would have made most women cringe. The genie, however, merely pouted and sent the fairy a half-hearted glare from his kneeling position in the sand.

“You horny bastard, I just finished working on that!” In reply, Jorgen merely smirked, the hungry look giving the seated genie an aching reminder of his own unsolved dilemma.


Before Norm could even fully comply, the fairy’s lips met his again, Jorgen ravaging his already abused mouth and seeking out the lingering remnants of his own salty taste even as he near crushed the genie against the tree with his advances. Legs weak with desire and face flushed with effort, Norm felt sure, if it hadn’t been for the heavy rain coating every spare inch of them, his shaking body would have caught fire long ago. When stern hands gripped his bare waist, slipping over the smooth, wet toffee skin there before dipping back to grip at the firm, curved material of his currently clothed ass, the genie caught his lip, tossing pride to the wind with a moan as he arched his back into the powerful, muscled embrace and gave himself over to the fairy’s every whim.

“God, please, Jorgen…” The genie begged, forgetting everything but the ardent need currently swamping him in heat and desire. In response, he felt Jorgen’s growl against him, the sound a low, inhuman rumbling that reverberated across his skin, and the violet-eyed sprite gave a soft mewl of consent, dark lashes falling shut to stain his pink cheeks, and lip catching between his teeth as he shuddered. “Please…”

“Tell me you want this…” Jorgen purred, calloused hands gripping at the flimsy white material of his captive’s pants and earning himself a moan from the pinned figure.

“I want this…” Norm gasped out, body trembling as the hands on him moved forward, coming around to his front and darting inward, but not quite making it to the point where he wanted them, leaving the panting genie to buck with another moan to no avail. “Jorgen…”

“Tell me you need this…” The fairy’s fingers curled under the waistband of the sopping wet cloth, and the genie gave a compliant whimper as he heard the unmistakable sound of tearing cloth, Jorgen’s hands shredding the thin fabric effortlessly.

“I need this…” In seconds, he felt every barrier left on him fall away, the clingy, drenched material meeting with sand even as Jorgen’s grip took firm hold of his waist, lifting him up to a high pin against the trunk of the tree and holding him in place as he loomed over him like an all powerful deity.

“Now…” Jorgen panted, his words ragged and chalky with a thick, carnal craving as he spoke in the mystic’s ear. “…tell me what you want me to do to you…”

Norm moaned, his body aching with exhaustion but painfully unsatisfied as his sat there, chest heaving and feet no longer on the ground, his figure drenched with the sky’s tears and his own sweat as he circled his legs around the fairy’s waist to pull him closer. When their eyes locked, he spoke without hesitation, his words clear and unwavering as they dropped from his lips.

“Fuck me…Master.”

Before the genie could draw his next breath, Jorgen’s body penetrated him, and only a whiplash of thunder swallowed up the sound of his scream. Desperate fingers dug into the rock solid base of the fairy’s shoulders even as Jorgen’s kisses muffled the more subdued sounds to follow, and with what little conscious thought he had left in him, Norm wondered briefly if he would ever function properly again. If one could reach their zenith, every nerve in their body finding perfect ecstasy, and simultaneously experience the most gruesome anguish imaginable, every splinter of their existence splitting in two…then Norm had just witnessed it first hand. Everything after was simply a blur of motion.

Slowly, Jorgen dragged him back from his foggy fantasy, hungry lips and careful touches leading his conscious gradually back to the surface until violet eyes fluttered open, and a soft, keening whimper escaped him. Tan fingers clung to the rippling, muscled expanse of the man’s back for stability and guidance, needing one sure thing to hold onto in a world of uncertainties, and when Jorgen began to move once again inside him, nothing else mattered.

Rain glided unnoticed over their taunt flesh, leaving cool trails on bodies long lost to the heat of passion. The fresh, clear liquid mingled into their kisses, giving each a taste of sky as they shared the experience. But in the end, everything came down to primal urges: the fairy’s body claiming and reclaiming the lithe genie as his own, the violet-eyed mystic writhing and arching with countless incoherent cries to the heavens, only to have his pleas swallowed up by the storm. As the night drew on, all sense of time was lost to them, and if not for the instinctive need for completion, the dawn might have witnessed their coupling. As it happened, the two mingling bodies sought a far faster relief to satiate their needs.

Norm couldn’t see, couldn’t think, couldn’t breathe. His heart felt like a wild bird, caged in his chest as it fought desperately for release, and his valuable mind had long ago melted to a useless pile of mush. Always in need of some contact, some promise that reality still existed, his hands ran winding, aimless paths over the fairy’s broad back, feeling as the general’s taut muscles moved with every strike and retreat, and relishing in the feel of that rock solid body against him and within him. When the pace picked up, he would have shed tears of relief if he’d had the energy left within him.

Like riding a rollercoaster, nothing really mattered but that one, glorious moment at the top before everything came crashing down in a whirlwind of screams and emblazoned color. In that moment, as Jorgen’s body began thrusting faster, a newfound animal intensity taking over at the last minute, the detached genie could just glimpse the peak, everything in him knotting up an tensing in preparation for that one instant until a single hard thrust shoved his back hard against the trunk, and his very reality shattered to pieces.

Jorgen groaned, a deep, guttural sound that escaped him unexpectedly the instant he felt the spasms of his partner’s release surrounding him. The genie’s sharp, chopped cry fell silent in his mouth, consumed greedily by the fairy’s kisses, but Jorgen could do nothing to stop desperate, uneven shudders of completion as they wracked his raven-haired lover, and when the mystic’s tight, heated body clenched around him, literally milking his release, he gave in without struggle, spilling the inevitable result of his passion deep within the trembling auburn body before him.

For a time, they simply hung there, placid and unmoving as the last of the once-raging storm died off overhead, falling from a downpour to a misty sprinkle about them, and leaving the two lovers in the midst of a peaceful calm. When the need became apparent, Jorgen did, eventually, move, lifting the smaller figure up off the tree with ease and supporting his light weight effortlessly. As he moved away from the tree line and back out onto the beach, the sand compact and cool beneath his feet from the rain, he felt the genie shift slightly in his arms, Norm’s tranquil grip tightening around his shoulders before moving to circle his neck. With his forehead nestled against the fairy’s chest, the genie’s words came out as a muffled mumble.

“Where’re we goin’?”

After a moment’s pause, Jorgen’s eyes running lazily over the calm, resting figure in his arms, the fairy responded with a shrug. “Anywhere you want…” As he spoke, his gaze lifted to scan the distant horizon, the very first hint of silver lining the base as he looked.

Seconds later, the sand beneath him dried, warm and pristine as if rain had never touched it; then, he was on the ground, equally dry and on his side with the genie in his arms, a satin towel beneath them and not a grain of sand marring the perfection. Who knew: magic did come in handy every now and then.

“If we’re going anywhere I want…let’s not move an inch.” If he had had the energy, Jorgen might have laughed at the irony, but he didn’t, so he couldn’t, and he simply offered a tired smile, suddenly terribly content to just lie on the ground. Then, a thought occurred to him, and he frowned slightly.

“So…how does it compare?”

“How does what-…oh.” For a moment, Jorgen felt sure he felt the genie’s grin against his chest, and then the mystic glanced up, violet eyes dancing with a coy mischief as he spoke. "It was…different than Agrabah." 

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