Of all the things he could've anticipated, Judal had never taken Sinbad for a tender lover.
This was different, though. When he lay in Sinbad's arms, clutched to the man's chest with a fierce protectiveness he never could've fathomed, Judal had never felt more at home. It was almost embarrassing, to be carried, to be cradled in the man's arms like a damned princess —the thought came to him in a sneer—but a strange part of Judal enjoyed the pampering. It was oddly sweet and heartfelt, and Judal didn't mind that.
"Don't drop me, idiot," he grumbled, and suddenly Sinbad was much taller than Judal had remembered, at least, it seemed that way when he was held high like this. Sinbad couldn't contain a laugh, and Judal would've kicked him if he weren't so afraid for his own safety.
"I would never."
A part of Judal had expected harsh treatment; Sinbad always seemed like he would be rough. That was what the rumors said. Judal braced himself to feel the wind knocked from his stomach, thrown naked onto the bed, but as he was laid on the plush comforter with a tenderness that he could not place, gentle and on his back, his stomach tightened. Judal had always known what to expect, back then, but this was nothing like that. This was something else entirely.
A gasp of air slipped past rosy lips when he felt the warmth against his neck, felt the soft kisses peppering against the long, exposed line of his throat and collarbone. Judal felt warmth rising in his stomach, and knowing nothing else to do, wrapped his arms around Sinbad's bare shoulders, hands clawing up to grab at the lavender hair at the nape of his neck.
It was a simple gesture, really, the way Sinbad touched him, but it had always been different for Judal. Those hands were always grabbing, always yanking; there were never kisses. There was never this soft, sweet tenderness of Sinbad pinned on top of him, hips pressed up between Judal's long, slender legs, and as sharp teeth grazed his skin with those warm kisses, it was all Judal could do not to shriek.
"Sinbad!"
"Too much?" Sinbad asked, and Judal hunted desperately for some semblance of mocking in his tone, but there was nothing of the sort. Judal huffed.
"No. You're fine."
"I can slow down, if its too much—"
"I said it's fine," Judal all but spat, and tightened his fists in Sinbad's hair, "keep going." There would be bruises tomorrow, Judal was sure, but only in the forms of little things. These were bruises that he wanted to see, anyways.
Sinbad did not need the encouragement. As he touched him, pressing soft kisses into the bend of Judal's neck, his hands found their way to Judal's dark hair, as they always did. Slowly but surely, Sinbad unwound the braid, threading his fingers through a sea of black until it rippled across the pillows free from its bindings.
"You know," said Sinbad, taking a moment to pull his lips away as he brushed back the dark strands from Judal's eyes, "you're really beautiful like this."
Judal fought the color rising to his cheeks and tore his gaze away. "Just shut up and kiss me, Stupid King."
Judal could feel the smile worried into Sinbad's features when a kiss was pressed against his lips. Judal's fingers loosened on Sinbad's hair and his hands slipped lower to caress the line of his strong jaw. Sinbad let a hand card through Judal's long, silk tresses as he deepened the kiss, and Judal murmured a soft, whispered moan in appreciation.
There was an eagerness in Sinbad, something that had to be restrained, and he felt himself throbbing at the sudden desire for Judal, to be inside of him, to be the only one to see him undone like this, the only one to feel the softness of his swollen lips. Sinbad wanted that, he wanted it more than anything, but Judal was hesitant, and his motions were languid and slow, and Sinbad knew this was an act that could not be rushed. Judal was harsh in most ways, abrasive and rude, but he was gentle where it meant the most, and he liked the slow, tender care of a lover (though, he'd never admit it).
Judal was breathing hard when Sinbad finally pulled back, just enough to meet Judal's bleary scarlet gaze, desperate but hesitant still, and Sinbad guided a hand to the side of Judal's face.
In a low voice, Sinbad said, "I will never hurt you," and Judal shivered at the warm breath tickling sensitive skin. "If it's too much-"
"I know what I want, Sinbad," Judal's voice was low and soft, thick with lust, "don't deny me any longer." Sinbad, for both of their sakes, appeased him.
Judal already felt the heat pulsing in his cock when Sinbad moved lower, and Judal gasped at the fingers that paused to thumb at his hard nipple, only for a moment, before Sinbad's hands traveled lower on Judal's body, below his waist, and left Judal trembling and untouched for just long enough to oil his fingers. His hand traveled up Judal's inner thigh then, patient and slow, and Judal felt himself shaking, desperate and pleading as Sinbad dragged a finger across tantalizing pale skin. There was a hiss as the first digit was inserted, Judal was tight and firm and already Sinbad felt his cock growing hard and heavy at the thought.
"It's alright," Sinbad soothed, pressing kisses to the tears budding at the corners of Judal's eyes. "Just a little more."
Judal managed a nod, desperate and heaving. His defenses all slipped away as Sinbad added another finger and he let out a hard gasp, felt movement inside of him like nothing he'd ever felt before. "Sinbad," he begged, soft, a whisper slipped past swollen lips. "Please."
Sinbad would've had to be insane, to deny him. "Relax, love," he said, fingers carefully removed, and Sinbad paused just for a moment, just to look at him. Judal was always beautiful, everything about him was, but looking at him like this was somehow ethereal. Sinbad could tell that he was already close, erect and throbbing, chest heaving with each labored breath, milky limbs sprawled in stark contrast to a tangle of dark hair. Sinbad crashed against his lips, hard and passionate, and Judal, relaxed, felt his eyes slip shut as he leaned into it. Judal felt Sinbad's hand slide again between his thighs, and he yielded to the touch, legs drawn apart.
He didn't wail when Sinbad slid inside, he didn't dare shatter the quiet intimacy of the moment. Judal found himself clinging to Sinbad's bare shoulders, weak and trembling, and felt the flurry of kisses pressed against his collarbone. Sinbad truly was a tender lover, when Judal saw him like this. Judal couldn't tell whether he had been like this before, with the women, but Judal rather liked the idea that this gentle, loving side of Sinbad was reserved for him alone.
Sinbad could feel Judal drawing closer to his breaking point, and Sinbad felt it too within himself. His motions had been almost fluid before, for Judal's sake, but his stroke had lengthened by then, and Judal felt himself coming undone with every thrust.
The tension left Judal's body with a cry, and he melted there against the sheets, eyes slid shut, and Sinbad, immersed in the feeling of Judal tight around him, in the pleasure of the moment, finally came with a shudder, collapsed and heavy above Judal.
There was silence for a moment, no conversation but the labored breathing, the heat of their bodies tangled together. Sinbad wouldn't have minded staying like that forever.
And then, softly, "you're very heavy," and he knew that Judal was back.
Sinbad chuckled as he rolled off of Judal, still pressed together. Judal rolled closer, rested a pale hand across Sinbad's sinewy chest, and his lips dared to curve upwards. "That was the best sex I've ever had."
Sinbad felt a swell of pride, only for a moment, until he realized, "that's the only sex you've ever had."
"It's all the same to me," said Judal with a laugh that was soft, like bells, and Sinbad felt unmistakable fondness for him then, sweeping a lock of his ebony hair to the side. When Sinbad slept with Judal, it was different than it had been with the others. That had all been for fun, for status, but Judal had never been a conquest; not now, not ever. When he'd slept with women before, in the way that he usually did, Sinbad was selfish and absorbed, but with Judal he was tender and loving and kind, gestures he hadn't known himself to still possess.
Even just looking at Judal now, gazing deep into carmine eyes, at the languid smile and tousled hair and the beginnings of flushed cheeks, Sinbad was overwhelmed with the desire to kiss him. Gently, Sinbad angled Judal's face upwards, and pressed a kiss to parted pink lips. When he pulled away, Judal was smiling.
"I love you," he murmured and Sinbad felt instinctively tense.
"You're not usually one to profess your love like this."
The color rose to pale cheeks then, dusting flawless skin, and Judal looked away. "I don't know. It felt right."
Sinbad said, "I love you too," and the smile was there on both of them when Judal leaned in for a kiss.