The weightless silk counterpane, which was being carefully pulled away by a strong hand, opened the graceful back of his adviser to the Master of the Seven Seas centimeter over centimeter. No, it is wrong word. The back of his darling. Yes, it is more correct.
The golden eyes were slightly squinted, and a strange sad sparkle flashed in them. The pinkish threads of scars cutting Jafar's pale skin were the thing that Sinbad was not able to have been humbling for many years, that always sent aching pain to his breast, as if these scars belonged to him.
Sinbad came to a standstill, even with bated breath when Jafar, having muttered something drowsily, turned the head to him – he might have felt the cool air caressing the naked back. But the gray eyes remained closed – only light eyelashes were quivering weightless, casting a shadow on the pale skin.
Having smiled warmly, Sinbad passed his palm on the soft hair of the sleeping guy, touched tenderly warm skin of the neck. His Jafar can be improbably touching after all. And gentle –the governor of Sindriya smiled pleased and trite at that moment he remembered how his assistant, being eternally bloody-minded and sarcastic in the afternoon, floated with his lips on his neck under cover of the soft darkness, responded to each his touch and strained after each his kiss, groaning his name at the moment of their common orgasm.
The suntanned palm touched carefully the skin between shovels and stopped there, sliding on the thin hems. Jafar allowed Sinbad to see them quite recently when he, at last having surrendered to the will of his feelings, destroyed the last barrier dividing them by a careful kiss as if asking:
- Will you trust me even more?
The reached it after a long time, having done so much tiny steps. They learned to smile, trust and understand each other without words. And they have learned to love.
The rough skin of the palm was replaced by the soft warm lips now, tenderly kissing each thread of the scars and catching the knock of the stranger heart.
Sinbad didn't reflect on the reasons of him doing it. It just seemed correct – to touch the each centimeter of the warm desired skin. As well as to feel any strange confusion when Jafar rose himself upon the elbows, looking back at him.
- Are you wishing me a good morning in such way? – Jafar asked, having yawned with pleasure.
- Yes, - Sinbad have risen himself upon the elbows too and clasped his forehead to Jafar's, enjoying the look of the beloved sleepy smile and the freckles on the precise nose.
- Well, good morningto you, too, - Jafar clung to his lips, feeling as his Master is softly embracing his shoulders in a moment, without being afraid to touch old traces of his wounds any more as it was earlier as if being afraid to hurt him.
These scars have already ceased hurting long ago when Sinbad appeared in his life and accepted them, trying to cure softly the reflection of these wounds – their traces tearing soul on slices. But now it calmed down, feeling the warm protection of the hands embracing him.