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Endless curled locks, strewn across a broad back, waiting for his repetitive strokes of the brush. A light smile clings to Polnareff's lips, blue eyes soft and enamored as he glides Abdul's brush through his thick, chocolate brown locks over and over. The sound of the brush gliding through his hair mixes with Abdul turning pages of his book, a combination of noises that strangely soothes Polnareff.
A forgotten movie plays on the TV in the corner of their bedroom, volume lowered for Momo's sake so he could focus on his book. Polnareff lets his free hand pet along his husband's soft locks, occasionally clutching the locks in a tight hand as he ran the brush through them.
Abdul made it a habit to brush his hair every day (Was it a hundred strokes or a thousand? Polnareff doesn't remember), and typically Polnareff was eager to do the work for him, if only to admire his pretty locks. Sitting in front of the Frenchman with his legs crossed, Abdul has to repeatedly flick back a couple rogue locks from his face, if only to keep them out of his eyes as he reads.
It remains like this for ten minutes, filled with a comfortable silence accompanied by the background noise of the TV, until Polnareff stretches and yawns, setting aside the brush as a signal that he was satisfied. He continues playing with Abdul's hair, running his fingers through the thick locks happily as he smiles to himself.
Just as he begins to slowly braid Abdul's long locks with precise hooks and slides of his fingers (something he had often done for Sherry when they were young), Abdul's attention is taken from his reading. He casts a glance over his shoulder, Polnareff leaning over to the side to follow his work of braiding. Polnareff grins at him and arches a brow playfully. Plump lips curling into a small tilted smile, Abdul glances between the Frenchman's blue eyes before he turns back to his book.
As he finishes up the braid, Momo's hair being long enough for there to be no need for a hair tie, Polnareff pats it contently and sighs heavily with a smile on his face. He stares at the braid, resting low over Abdul's broad back with a thick curl popping out at the end of it. Once satisfied with admiring, he rises up onto his knees and throws himself over Abdul's back, letting his muscular arms dangle past his broad shoulders. Abdul supports Polnareff's weight easily and says nothing. Cheekily, Polnareff brings his hands down to cover the pages of his book.
“Jean...” Abdul begins with exasperation, peeking back at him with unamused amber eyes. Polnareff grins and takes the chance to swoop in and press a soft kiss to his scarred cheek, over warm, dark skin. Laughing softly, Momo closes his book on his finger to keep his place and then angled his torso, turning his head further to get a better reach. Cupping Polnareff's cheek, he kissed him on the mouth sweetly with a few soft, loving purses of his mouth.
Smiling into it, Polnareff wrapped his arms tightly around Momo and leaned heavily into him, kissing him with an eagerness that has the Egyptian chuckling lowly into it. Giving one last deep kiss to Polnareff's lips, Abdul leans back to give him a tender smile, patting him on the cheek, before he turned back to his book. Groaning, Polnareff leaned side to side on his back, making both of them swing around a little as he complained noisily, “Momooo, stop reading and pay attention to me. I wanna cuddle.”
Humming thoughtfully, Abdul let Polnareff rock them side to side for a minute longer, if only to hear him whine (a smirk steadily appearing on his full lips the more creative Polnareff gets), before finally relenting and closing his book. Polnareff celebrates by covering his jawline and cheek in a flurry of kisses. Chuckling at the attack of loving pecks, Momo sets aside his book, before he gently unravels Polnareff's arms from around his neck.
When he turns and pulls Polnareff into a tight embrace, the Frenchman laughs and tugs him down so they fall onto the bed. A sputtered noise comes from Momo when Polnareff rolls them over so he laid on top of the Egyptian, their legs becoming tangled with Momo's braid ending up in his face.
“So this is your idea of cuddling,” Abdul murmurs as Polnareff nuzzled into his chest, their bodies pressed snug together. Polnareff closes his eyes, content and warm as he feels the other man draw his arms around him and hold him lovingly. He says nothing, only lets himself relax into Momo and tighten his muscular arms around his torso. His hands were pinned under Abdul, and losing circulation, but he didn't mind.
“I love you,” Polnareff murmurs softly into his chest, before he peeked up at him past his loose silver locks with wide cerulean blue eyes. Smiling warmly, Momo gazes down at the other affectionately, repeatedly running his broad, weathered hand over Polnareff's back. Dropping his head back down to rest on his chest, Polnareff exhales deeply in contentment and nuzzles into the other further.
Abdul presses a soft kiss to the crown of his head and says quietly, “I love you too, ya amar.”
Furrowing his brow, Polnareff looks up at him, setting his chin on Abdul's chest as he asks with bewilderment, “You what?”
Laughing softly, Abdul clarifies, “Ya amar. It means 'my moon'.”
“Ohhh.”
Rather than explain what that meant, sensing Polnareff's confusion, Abdul says nothing if only to let him wonder. He smiles to himself, petting Polnareff's silver locks as the Frenchman rested his head back down on his chest.
For a while they lay there, until Polnareff complains about his numb hands, so they move under the covers. It's warmer and cozier under their thick duvet, the buzz of the movie seeping through as Polnareff grins at Abdul and scoots closer, nudging himself into the other. Laughing softly, Momo draws his arms around him and pulls him close, close enough that Polnareff's face is smushed into his chest. But he's fine with that.
That is, until it became hard to breathe and he had to pull back to gasp and say breathlessly with a laugh, “Not much room to breathe in there.”
Before Abdul could apologize and suggest removing the blanket, Polnareff holds up a finger and sits up, making a sufficient tent of the blanket with his head. He grabs the bottom of his band t-shirt and tugged it up over his torso, exposing his abs, his pecs, and his pink nipples that Abdul's eyes automatically shoot to. After tossing the shirt out past the blanket to land on the floor somewhere, Polnareff drops back down onto his side, making the bed jostle, and beams at Momo with a bright smile and wide, delighted blue eyes. Abdul smiles back and reaches out to cup his jaw.
Rather than scoot up close to Momo again, Polnareff keeps distance, but just a little. Enough to admire Abdul's handsome face and charming amber eyes. With their broad shoulders keeping the blanket raised, Abdul can glance over his bared torso, admiring his muscle and freckled skin before his eyes naturally land on his chest. With Polnareff's arms resting down on the bed, he can see the dark scars curving under his pecs, a telltale sign. But they don't keep his attention for long.
He glances back up to Polnareff's face to see him smiling faintly, blue eyes soft. When the Frenchman reaches up, Abdul remains still and closes his eyes, welcoming the touch when it comes to the scar between his thick brows. He touches at it gently, apologetically.
“Sometimes I think about how if... if Sherry hadn't died,” Polnareff says, reluctant and in a whisper, “I wouldn't have met you. Her death led me to Dio, and then ultimately to you and the others. And it makes me sad, when I think about it. I dunno. Like I don't deserve both of you, I only get one good thing in my life at a time.”
It was a sudden confession that has Abdul opening his eyes and meeting Polnareff's nervous gaze. Dropping his hand from Abdul's forehead, Polnareff lets it rest between them. Abdul brings his hand down to grasp it, holding it tightly and warmly.
“We would have met, even if Sherry survived. Fate is an inescapable thing, Jean... But, it's best not to dwell on things like that. Life is life, and it turns out how it may. Luckily for the both of us, ours are twined.”
He pauses, searching in the other man's eyes, before saying gently, “You have many good things in your life, Jean. I'm not the only blessing. And you deserve so much more than what you have now. I wish you could see how meaningful you are.”
He leans in then, to press a soft, tender kiss to Polnareff's forehead. When he pulls back, he sees him smiling faintly, blue eyes tired yet loving.
“Thanks, Momo,” he whispers, stroking his broad thumb over Abdul's fingers, “I'll try not to think about it anymore. It's kinda pointless, anyways. I always think about stupid shit that only succeeds in bringing me down.”
With a light, warm smile, Abdul cups his cheek and runs his thumb over his pale, freckled cheek. Polnareff closes his eyes and lets out a deep breath, relaxing into it.
“Finding something that can clear your mind may help,” Momo quietly murmurs, watching his husband's face with warm affection, “You know I have my praying, so now you just need to find your own place that gives you peace.”
Rising onto his elbow, Polnareff looks down at him with a soft smile, bringing his free hand up to brush back Momo's stray locks from his scarred cheek. Abdul gazes up at him, admiring the light blush on his face and the blatant adoration in his eyes. Leaning in to kiss him, Polnareff closes his eyes and purses his mouth against Abdul's firmly, his silver locks brushing against the Egyptian's cheek and neck as they kissed. Abdul brings his hand up to curl it around the back of Polnareff's neck, a warm touch that has Polnareff smiling into the kiss.
When he pulls back, gazing down at the other with his locks falling to curtain his grinning face, Polnareff says cheekily, “You know, I do have an idea. Of a certain activity that might give me peace of mind.”
Abdul rolls his eyes, which has Polnareff laughing and flopping down beside him, the blanket billowing down slowly from the sudden lack of a support to rest over them again.
“That was awful.”
“Smooth as hell, right?”
“Jean.”
“Oh, my bad. Smooth as heck.”