Disclaimer:
Magi and its characters belong to Shinobu Ohtaka.
Rating:
PG-13.
Notes:
I wrote this fic for
azalee_calypso's
prompt on my end-of-exams anon meme (in French) and then translated it into English. Please tell me if you notice anything weird in the translation ~
Warning:
Dub-con.
Alibaba doesn't really know what he expected when Cassim dragged him towards his room - or, well, the room they'll be sharing as Shadow Troop leaders.
He's been taught all sorts of ceremonies and protocols in the palace, but nobody ever thought of mentioning promotion rituals in a bandit troupe. And maybe, maybe he's forgotten the ways of Balbad's slums a little.
The home-brewed alcohol went to his head, and he can't think clearly.
(Maybe, maybe he remembered their childhood, with Cassim and Myriam, and he hoped to find the warmth, the peace of these nights together.)
He realizes, though somewhat late, that his mouth spoke this last thought aloud on its own.
A strange glint flashes in Cassim's eyes. Without a word, he starts to undress Alibaba, like when they were just brats and Alibaba collapsed into the bad after a whole day of work, and Cassim's hands have grown too big, they're everywhere, the tips of his fingers dragging over the skin of hips, torso...
Aliaba mewls in surprise when Cassim pinches one of his nipples.
He tries to protest, begins a dozen sentences and can't finish a single one, and then Cassim shuts him up with a kiss involving many teeth and little tenderness.
Alibaba's eyelids fall down, and his next mew is both frightened and something else that he doesn't dare put a name on.
Cassim's lips finally part from his, and his face is wrapped in his own tunic for a few seconds, before it's pulled up his arms, dragging them above his head and pinning them down.
Alibaba opens wide eyes and licks his lips. The taste of blood fills his mouth.
"Cassim," he calls, his voice more high-pitched than what he's willing to admit, "what are you-"
Cassim smiles, and his gaze slides down Alibaba's body. It stops where the pants are falling down the hips.
"You still don't get it, Alibaba. We're not kids anymore."
He bends, moves his leg to straddle Alibaba, puts his elbow on the mattress to strengthen his grip on his tunic and arms. Then Cassim lets his free hand slide down to Alibaba's belt.
And he smiles again.
(His smile is perfect, innocent, joyful even. Exactly the same as when they were children. Or as that night in a tavern, while Cassim filled his mug with wine again and again.)
"Hey, don't worry - we're friends, right? I'll show you."
Cassim's forefinger slips under the belt and slowly pulls his pants down to his knees.
Alibaba closes his eyes, and lets Cassim's hands on his skin chase the memories away from his mind. Myriam is dead, and Cassim-
Cassim only wants what's best for the slums. Alibaba can see it now.
(Cassim stopped being a kid a long time ago. But this time, Alibaba isn't either.
This time, they become friends again.)
When Cassim kisses him once more, Alibaba stops hesitating and kisses him back.