It's a rare thing, that Ja'far stays.
Sinbad thinks, probably, that he was drunk last night, judging by the dull throb in his temples. More than likely, Ja'far hauled him to bed again, and it's highly likely that while drunk, he wound himself around his advisor and friend, refusing to let him leave.
Sometimes, he makes good decisions while drunk.
He makes better ones while sober, though—like right now, when he buries his face into the soft, pale silkiness of Ja'far's hair, nuzzles into the back of his neck until the other man stirs and shifts with an irritated grumble. Even if Ja'far doesn't like being woken up like this, it's impossible to help himself, not when Ja'far is there, warm and deceivingly small curled up within Sinbad's bed coverings, and there's little he can do but touch, his hands splaying over lithe hips, dragging down velvety soft thighs, all softness over steel while his mouth fastens to the side of that pale, pale neck.
Ja'far doesn't protest, though the words are on his tongue. Sinbad knows they are, because after all these years, he knows Ja'far, knows him better than he knows himself now, and so he's careful not to push too far, even as his fingers roam, slick when they drag inside and make Ja'far gasp and twist and shudder. He's careful and slow and intends to savor all of this as he spoons behind the other man, kisses at his shoulders, his neck, turns his head 'round to kiss the corner of his mouth, and there's little better than having Ja'far like this, flushed and shivering and not inclined to complain.
Everything is slick and tight and hot and good and god, does he like being the one to muffle Ja'far's cries with a hand over that pretty mouth, with his fingers twisting against Ja'far's tongue. Sinbad loves watching his face twist in sort of agonized ecstasy as he comes, loves being the cause of it all, and that's even better than being able to leave some sort of a claim—his mouth on Ja'far's neck, his own seed when he spills deep inside.
It's a guilty pleasure, isn't it, to hope that Ja'far stays more often? (He should take a wife, Ja'far tells him time and time again, but isn't this much moresatisfying?)
In the end, Sinbad is a slave to his own happiness, after all.