Pairing: Fem!SinbadxJa'far

Rating: K

A/N: Done for a magi kink meme prompt

"I want more," Sinbad upturns her cup, staring sorrowfully when not a single drop came out.

"Yes, yes, you can drink later," Ja'far heaves the woman up to a standing position using his shoulder as a support, grunting with the effort when he realizes just how heavy the woman is. For such a slim woman, Sinbad sure weigh a lot.

"You always said- hey, is your face red?"

"You're drunk," Ja'far averts his face away from the all-too-keen gaze of his queen. Really, how can someone not blush when a more-than-ample bosom presses into their side with every step they take? "Stop prodding my face."

Sinbad grins. With their current position, her advisor couldn't brush away her fingers without dropping her, which leaves her to do as she please, and in this case, it is prodding the man's freckled cheeks. There is something highly fascinating about watching the pale skin darken in color under her touch, looking so flush and in all honesty, a little bit lewd. Sinbad resists the urge to not manhandle – no pun intended – her advisor into the nearest dark corner.

"Masrur!" Ja'far gasps as his eyes land on the Fanalis. "Help me out here."

Said Fanalis nods, understanding the order without being explicitly told so. He lifts their queen - who giggles at the sudden shift in view - and carries her in the direction of the Purple Leo Tower.

"Thank you very much, Masrur," Ja'far says gratefully to the Fanalis once Sinbad is lying on her bed. Masrur only nods again before exiting.

Deeming Masrur to be some distance away from the fading sounds of footsteps, Ja'far turns to regard his queen. The woman had already fallen into a drunken stupor on their way here. He shakes his head helplessly as he deprives the queen of all her metal vessels and adjusts her properly on her bed.

He began removing her make-up with a wet cloth, hands hovering over two petals of red. The wax on it reflects the nearby candlelight, making it more glossy and kissable. Ja'far traces his fingers gently over the borders, feeling soft warm breath fanning over his digits. How could such an insignificant muscle entrance him so?

"Good night, Sin," Ja'far carefully lowers his face until his lips brush Sinbad's, barely touching, before the advisor straightens himself up and exits the room hastily.

On his way to his own chambers, Ja'far places a hand over his thudding heart. No matter how many times he had kissed her secretly, he still couldn't stamp down the nervousness and guilt.

What was he thinking? It was not like Sinbad would ever lower herself to someone of his level – a dirty orphan with murders on his hands that could match the numbers of scars on his body. He shouldn't overstep the boundary of respect and love. He should stop now before he was caught.

But no one said that it would hurt so badly.

Ja'far enters his chamber, coming to a sudden halt as he sees the paper on his desk. On it is a crude drawing of his queen.

He approaches the table, staring at the unfinished work. Carefully, he dips his quill in red ink and slides it across the paper, watching as the liquid sinks into the surface. But the result is less than desirable. The paper replica has failed once again to capture his queen's allure.

Frustrated with his drawing, Ja'far crumples the paper and throws it into the bin nearby.

It was not like the ex-assassin has been interested in Sinbad's lips ever since they met. In fact, their relationship was purely platonic at the start – the savior and the saved – and Ja'far had never harbored anything more than respect towards the woman.

But it all changed when Sinbad established her kingdom. In order to fit into their people's expectations, she casted aside her mundaneness and transformed into a sinful vixen. It hurts then, and still does now from time to time, to watch a free-spirit like Sinbad chained down by their people, but that was the path she chose and he would see it to the end.

And even though Sinbad stepped on the throne, she still calls on him for all her morning preparations just like what they used to do in times long past. That was the first time Ja'far applied wax onto her lips and he was immediately entranced by it. It was because Sinbad never put any thoughts into her appearance prior to this and so Ja'far was never made aware of her features till then.

By now though, after so many years of helping her do her make-up, Ja'far is already more than familiar with the two muscles, having explored all the possibilities of decorating it. Dark maroon lend a mysterious, mature look; bright red adds determination and freshness; cherry pink highlights softness and innocence…every different color flush out a different side of Sinbad's character, unfolding her complex nature before the world.

And how many times has he caught himself glancing furtively at those lips during council meetings? How many times has he mentally replaced his own lips with those nameless men's whom his queen hung out with?

Ja'far sighs as he tries to go to sleep. There is no point in belaboring over what is not there from the start. He has to accept the fact that his feelings will never be reciprocated.

Back in her room, Sinbad opens her eyes and stares at the ceiling. Once again her advisor has left nothing but a burning desire on her lips, a tease that leaves her craving for more. He thinks he is sneaky, but Sinbad knows better. There is no mistaking the faint fragrant of old ink after long hours of being couped up in an office, the lingering taste of green tea – his favorite flavor – on her lips, and the unique gentleness that is just Ja'far.

Ja'far didn't know that his queen is well aware of all his feelings, knows even less that she reciprocates those feelings, that the only reason she would openly flaunt and flirt is to get him to chase after her. At least then he is focused on her and her only, and it is worth it even if it meant getting a lot of reprimanding later.

But Sinbad would take it slow. Ja'far is not accustomed to carnal desires and personal needs, and so she would be patient with him. And perhaps one day, when her stoic advisor finally confronts his own emotions, he would come to her on his own volition.

Sinbad takes out a piece of crumpled paper kept hidden in her drawer, smiling at the crude ink imitation.

There will be a day when there's no need any more for these drawings.