26th December 2009
Yazid became very slowly aware of a few things. Firstly, he was awake when he shouldn’t be. Secondly, someone was carding fingers through his hair and over the shell of his ear. And thirdly, he was deliciously warm.
“Sorry,” Ali whispered, quiet like a dirty secret told in mosque.
“Time s’it?” Yazid mumbled. He slid closer without opening his eyes, finding hot, smooth skin under the sheets. He spread his fingers and felt enticing heat curl into the very whorls of his fingerprints. He curled an arm over Ali’s ribs and stilled—and after a moment, that rhythmic stroking started up again.
“Dunno,” Ali breathed.
Ali shifted, and Yazid grumbled at him until he was allowed to settle again. When lips pressed lightly to his forehead, Yazid supposed he could forgive the rude
