It was, Ja'far thought with a sigh as he hurried along the moonlit corridor, probably the worst-kept secret in the household.
The night terrors had struck not long after he met Sinbad. One minute he was dropping off to sleep, and the next he was caught in a web of fear, paralysed, unable to move or think. He had never experienced anything like it before, and it made him insensible as he struck out at the unknown forces restraining him.
When he'd come to, there were three of Sinbad's entourage on the floor, half-conscious and bleeding from various places as a result of his strikes. He remembered looking up to see Sinbad standing in the doorway, his eyes large and dark in the moonlight, and the feeling of confusion and surprise as he was picked up and carried back to Sinbad's own room. He also remembered the smell of that room - a rich, sweet scent of some incense burned earlier that day, and the smell of Sinbad himself; of sweat and earthiness and something that he could never quite put his finger on. And he remembered being held that night, for the first time in what might have been his entire life thus far, as he drifted off to a deep, dreamless sleep.
Of course, they didn't come so often now. The sense of security and purpose Ja'far had found since then had put his mind at ease - unless Sinbad was off doing something he shouldn't which, on second thought, was actually most of the time. Ja'far snorted in half amusement, half despair. Sometimes it was like looking after an older, taller child whose flashes of brilliance were only countered by instances of total and utter stupidity. He gave a small shake of his head as he approached the heavy door, and as he raised his hand to knock he heard a muffled voice call out.
"Come in!"
Ja'far frowned as he opened the door and stepped inside the room. "I do wish you'd stop doing that Sin. It makes me uncomfortable," he complained as the door closed behind him.
Sinbad grinned from where he was sitting by the small desk in his room. He wasn't going to tell anyone about the fact he could hear anyone approaching his room from any direction because of the acoustics in the hallway. There was some secrets he wanted to keep.
"Ja'far, welcome," he said with a smile as he spread his arms in greeting. "I'm glad you came, I've been working all evening on these documents." Sinbad frowned. "I swear the pile keeps growing."
"I could say that if you did them when you were meant to then they wouldn't take so long, but I won't," Ja'far said with a touch of authority, as he made his way across the room to sit on the edge of the very large, very comfortable bed.
"I think you just did," Sinbad muttered as he straightened up the stack of papers and placed them in a neat pile on the corner of the desk, careful not to knock them as he stood up and made his own way to the bed. "But it's rather late, Ja'far - even I'm aware of that. Is there something the matter?" he asked in a low voice as he sat down next to his friend.
The one thing Ja'far still had trouble with was talking about stuff. He could kill someone in many unique and interesting ways - and apparently he was pretty good at balancing the Household books - but opening himself up to people was still pretty much a work in progress for him. It left him feeling far too vulnerable and open to attack. Knowledge was a power that someone could wield against another. Sinbad was well aware of this, and usually managed to get Ja'far to talk by way of distraction techniques and low-level bullying. It wasn't something he was proud of, as such, but the ends justified the means (and he had to admit he did like winding the usually-composed man up sometimes) but this was not one of those situations, he could tell. Ja'far rarely visited unannounced, and at this time of the night it could only mean one thing.
"Trouble sleeping?" Sinbad asked softly, as he lent over to kiss the other man on the forehead. Ja'far had let slip one rare drunken evening that he liked it when Sinbad did that, that it made him feel safe, and he'd slotted that away in his memory for times like this.
Ja'far nodded gently, avoiding eye contact. All he could think about on his way here was being in Sinbad's arms, burying himself in that familiar scent and forgetting it all, but now he was here it was if he was paralysed with indecision. However, this wasn't the first time they'd been here, and Sinbad knew what to do. Without pausing to think, Sinbad stood up and, after rearranging his robes, he sat down on Ja'far's lap, straddling his hips in a rather lewd manner. The movement broke Ja'far from his thoughts and he pursed his lips as he slid his arms around the other man's waist. "That is not an action befitting of a king," he muttered as he felt long fingers snake around his neck. He knew what was coming next and he closed his eyes in anticipation.
"I guess this isn't either," Sinbad whispered roughly, and he smiled when he felt Ja'far's small frame shudder beneath him. Ja'far always worked too hard and refused to take any time off - so if he could do this for him, then he would. Bringing their mouths together, Sinbad lead them in the lewdest kiss he could think of, and as they broke Ja'far was left huffing small breaths into his mouth, dazed. "Let's get you down, shall we?" Sinbad said mischievously, and in one sweep he managed to get Ja'far from a sitting to a lying position, head resting on the oversized pillows and his robes draped lazily around him.
Ja'far still had his eyes closed. It wasn't as if he didn't want to see Sinbad - almost the opposite; he wanted to lose himself in the man, in every sense. He inhaled deeply and found that familiar scent, the smell of belonging. He reached up his hands without opening his eyes, and they soon found the back of Sinbad's neck. Trailing his fingers through the long, silky hair he thought he might come just from the sheer overstimulation of his senses. Of course, Sinbad wouldn't allow him to get off that easily.
"Open your eyes."
As expected, Ja'far thought as he opened one eye slightly, glad that the lighting in the room was dim. He looked up to see Sinbad looking down at him, arms and legs either side of his body, a playful grin on his face. Ja'far couldn't help it, and soon he felt his own mouth sliding into a smile.
"That's better," Sinbad murmured as he bent down to plant a kiss on the end of Ja'far's nose, who wrinkled his face in distaste, and Sinbad laughed. "Watch out, you'll start being cute in a minute!"
"Now you're just being mean," Ja'far started to complain, then inhaled sharply as he felt a hand wander up his legs, trailing across marked skin that made his feel a flush of shame and arousal. The two emotions usually came hand-in-hand, though the latter also usually now outweighed the former - Sinbad had needed to teach him that there was no shame in having desires, in asking someone to help him get what he needed, whatever that was. And it had taken him a long time to work out what it was, exactly, that he craved. It wasn't just the release - although he would be lying if he said it wasn't part of it. Ja'far realised that what he needed was affirmation, for someone else to see him and acknowledge him as worthy. It was obvious the effect he had on Sinbad - it was quite impossible not to notice - and the knowledge that he was the cause of the flushed skin and rather noticeable erection pressing into his stomach gave him a thrill that he found nowhere else. It was a dark, primal feeling that washed away any other thought in his mind. Suddenly, his brooding was interrupted in a not entirely unwelcome fashion. He felt long fingers wrap around his eager cock and he spread his legs further apart, without thinking. The movement caused Sinbad to give a low laugh.
"Ah, what were we talking about again - actions befitting our station?" Ja'far blushed deeply and Sinbad made approving noises as he bent down to nip at an available ear. "Looking like that, I could eat you all up."
Coming from anyone else, or at any other time, Ja'far would have laughed at such a statement and possibly left the speaker maimed, if only a little bit. Right then, however, it sounded not only plausible, but possible, and Ja'far shivered as a small gasp escaped his lips when he felt Sinbad's hand begin to move. Slowly at first, he felt every finger slide over his hot, sensitive skin, and he bit down on his bottom lip as he felt the tip of Sinbad's thumb sweep over his sensitive head. It was hard to work out if the feeling was pleasure or pain, and Ja'far didn't want it to end as he began to rock his hips with the other man's movement as he closed his eyes and lost himself in the sensation.
"Sin..." he breathed, his voice breathy and strained.
Sinbad watched, fascinated, as the usually composed man came apart in front of him. He always marvelled at the change that unfolded in front of him, like a chrysalis unfurling into a butterfly. He wished Ja'far could let some of this out in his daily persona, but he also understood why the man kept himself so rigid. At least I can do this much, he thought to himself as he picked up the pace and felt his own breath catch in his throat. He watched as Ja'far grasped at the bedsheets, fingers curling into fists as small wordless sounds escaped his lips, sounding as though they were almost torn from his mouth. Sinbad licked his bottom lip and leant forwards, still keeping pace with his one hand and lowering his head to gently bite the sensitive skin on Ja'far's neck. He knew the limits now; nothing visible - he grinned briefly at the fallout from that particular session - and no meant no. Other than that...
It didn't look like they would get to do much more this time though, as he suddenly felt a deep shudder run through Ja'far's deceptively slight body. Ensuring he was working alongside the other man, soon his long, deep strokes had their desired effect - with a muffled cry, Ja'far bucked his hips upwards and spilled himself into Sinbad's hand, who worked him through the aftershocks of his release, one shuddering breath at a time. When he was sure that Ja'far was spent, Sinbad moved to lie down, one arm resting lightly over the other man's stomach and, with a soft sigh, fell into a dreamless sleep.
...
When Ja'far started to hear the sound of soft snoring fill the air, he knew that Sinbad was asleep. With what felt alarmingly like a pang of regret, he extricated himself from Sinbad's grip and stood up and adjusted his robes so that, should anyone meet him on his journey back to his room, he at least looked respectable on the outside. He made his way softly to the door and, as he reached out to grasp it, he glanced backwards at the sleeping figure. How he wanted to just stay, to see in the morning wrapped in Sinbad's protective arms, to be woken up by the man he respected, admired and - in his own way - loved. But that would complicate things, even if his feelings were reciprocated which he was sure they weren't. Sinbad would, eventually, meet a woman who could put up with his ways, and Sindria would have a queen to her King. That was the way it was meant to be, Ja'far nodded to himself, as he quietly made his way along the deserted corridors once more than night.
...
When the morning light woke Sinbad, he saw that he was alone. He wasn't surprised - Ja'far had never spent the whole night with him before - but each time it happened he felt a little sad. He suspected Ja'far would be quite adorable with morning hair and sleep-filled eyes. Each time, Sinbad resolved himself to bring it up at their next meeting, but whenever he got that knock at the door and saw Ja'far walk in, all thoughts other than wanting to help his friend fled from his mind. What he wanted didn't matter compared to what he could give to see Ja'far happy, and at this he gave a small smile.
Who would guess that the King of the Seven Seas, who could have the pick of almost any woman he met, only wanted his advisor at his side.