“Jaaaa—“ a hiccup cut through his name. “—farr.” Another hiccup was issued accompanied by the stinging scent of alcohol, drawing the white haired man from a somewhat middling slumber. “Ja’farr,” the voice slurred again. “Wake up, Ja—“ hiccup, “—far.”
“No.” The general replied, drawing the blanket over his head, doing and failing in ignoring his king. “Do you know what time it is? You’re drunk.”
“No.” Sinbad drew the blanket away, nuzzling into the side of his shoulder affectionately. “I’m not.”
“I can smell it.”
Sinbad’s arm drew around the general, seeking across the plains of his chest and dipping down to his lean but defined stomach. “Kiss me,” he said, ignoring Jafar’s earlier accusations.
“I will not,” he denied. Ja’far was used to this. He was well accustomed to Sinbad’s rather unpleasant habit of drinking. He was no stranger to Sin’s late night calls after he’s had too much to drink, crawling into bed with his general with less than moral whims. If he gave into him, now, Ja’far knew he wouldn’t stop at just a kiss.
The king, however, ignored Ja’far’s wishes, nibbling on the general’s ear before lightly taking it in his mouth, suckling as his hand moved even lower on Ja’far’s abdomen. The white haired male sighed. “If I kiss you, will you go to sleep?”
Sinbad chuckled. “Maybe.”
Ja’far sighed, again, turning to face the persistent male. “You’re intolerable, Sin.” Sinbad agreed, gently knocking their foreheads together.
“But not as so much that you’d leave, yes?”
Ja’far rolled his eyes, smoothing his hand through the other’s hair, drawing their faces even closer. “I’m still here, aren’t I?” He pressed their lips together, then, Sinbad unable to keep from smiling as he grabbed his subordinate’s ass.
“Sinbad,” Ja’far warned, pulling away.
“What?” The king cheekily grinned, moving to kiss the freckled man again. He pulled away, however.
“Goodnight, Sinbad,” he said, rolling back over with a finality and closing his eyes. He wouldn’t give in, again. Sinbad groaned.
“Ja’faaaaaaar.”
