theoldguardkinkmeme | Fills Post #2

Fills Post #2

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Prompt: https://theoldguardkinkmeme.dreamwidth.org/5194.html?thread=1705034#cmt1705034

First parts: https://theoldguardkinkmeme.dreamwidth.org/694.html?thread=1879478#cmt1879478

Let's continue this here now then!

_____________________

It wasn’t even supposed to be a mission. Nicky had medical training, and Joe was nifty with engineering, so when they decided to join in humanitarian efforts at a refugee camp, and Andy tagged along, Nile thought her absence wouldn’t be felt too deeply. That they uncovered a child trafficking ring was incidental; that it ran deeper than they first thought was enough reason to have her back.

It didn’t mean she wasn’t worried all through it.

Something about the way Booker saw her off made her feel on edge. No, not something: the kiss. She hugged him, as always, on the threshold of his old building, and then he chose that moment to pull her into a kiss. Not a peck in the cheek, as she was used to giving him, or a press of lips against her forehead, as he sometimes did. A full-on kiss that followed her through the days away, and made her anxious to return quickly, no matter how many times she made him swear he would get help if he needed it.

It takes her a second to place the faint smell drifting from a couple of plastic bags slumped by the flat's door, but when the metallic scent of blood registers, Nile panics. The flat is silent and still, and she's immediately pulled to the sight of Booker's broad back slumped on the bed.

"Book, what happe—oh, shit!"

A scrunched up little face watches her from the bed, unfocused and unaware that Nile held herself on her feet by sheer adrenaline.

"Shit, fuckin—Book!"

He doesn't quite notice her despite her bruising grip shaking his shoulder, attention drifting to the squirming baby beside him. Nile's stomach sinks at the softness with which he places his big hand over the baby's little belly, motion soothing and gentle. His mouth curving in a little smile looks out of place with the deep shadows under his eyes, the days old stubble covering his cheeks; he smells of exhaustion.

"Book?" She can't keep the waver out of her voice, and that seems to do the trick.

Slowly, slowly, he turns his head and smiles. "Hey," he sighs, voice small, face falling, "Please, don't cry."

"I'm not," she says, sniffling a little, running her hand through his greasy hair. "You agreed, Book. I left because you agreed you'd go to the hospital if you felt something. Why?"

“They would see,” he mumbles, eyes drifting closed at her touch, “Couldn’t let them.”

Rationally, Nile knows the risks of him having birth at a hospital, at someone seeing their abilities when he was alone and vulnerable; he would’ve survived it either way. The baby, on the other hand, wouldn’t have had the same luck had anything happened.

“You put the baby at risk.” Her voice comes out harder than she meant, and he recoils. Nile does her best to tamp down the panic bubbling up her chest. Standing up, she props him into a sitting position. “C’mon, we can deal with it once we sort out this mess first.”

"She can't be alone," he whispers, eyes vacant and lost now she pulled him away from the cocoon he'd entrenched himself for the last few days. "She's too small, she can't be alone."

"She won't be, I promise," Nile answers, doing her best to keep her voice steady, but she's one second away from spiralling. He still smells like blood. "I'll just pop you in the shower and then I'll go fetch her, alright? She'll be right where you can see her all the while."

Booker fixes her an indecipherable look, but nods in acquiescence, sagging a little more against her. She maneuvers his considerable weight into the shower, leaving him standing under the tepid spray. Hurrying back into the room, she finds the baby exactly how she left her, gurgling a little and completely oblivious to the rampant anxiety racking through Nile's body. She's pink and round-cheeked, with nothing about her that should set her apart from all the other babies Nile has seen in her life, and yet immediately she feels… something. A warmth coiling around her ribs, an intense desire to protect, to cherish. This is family, she knows from the first sight.

Her weight on her arms feels right, the little squirming bundle swaddled in the starry blanket molding itself perfectly against her chest. Oh, Nile thinks, running a fingertip along a chubby cheek, she's so fucked.

She goes back to the bathroom, sitting down on the closed toilet. Booker peeks a look at them, already a little more present and aware, only to suck in a strangled breath at whatever is it that he sees; pressing his lips, he goes back to washing his hair. Nile can't help but watch him, and how little his body gave away about what it just went through: apart from a little flush and swelling around his nipples, he looks just the same, even though she only caught a glimpse of him pre bump—it was hard to focus on anything else except his exposed guts at the moment. Still, the sight of him naked and wet, soft cock resting placid between his thighs, make her lower belly tighten, and at the same time she feels guilty.

His voice accusing her of being there on some misguided alpha instinct to defend the vulnerable omega echoes through her head as she fixes him something to eat, which he accepts one-handed while balancing the baby latched at his chest with the other.

"Careful not to slip."

"Uh?" she asks, blinking up at him from her food.

"You're about to drool a puddle on the floor," he says, his smile barely a quirk, directed at his food, "alpha."

Nile shudders, the tone of his voice along with the sight making her head spin and she recoils. What is going on with her? "I'm sorry," she says, "I didn't mean to—fuck, I'm so sorry—"

"It's ok, I'm just teasing," he says, eyes fond. "I know you're not like that."

The day slips by between caring for the baby and Booker. He loses focus more than a few times, voice trailing off in the middle of a sentence; other times Nile sees him staring at the baby looking lost. He doesn’t slip once while taking care of her, knowing when she needed something a second before she made a single sound of protest, but still the dazed look comes back once she settles, as if she were a puzzle piece he couldn’t quite find the fit. The entire situation left Nile restless, and she didn’t even know exactly why.

At night, she makes no comment when he settles on the bed with the baby, even if her skin itches to come closer; instead, she pulls a blanket and a pillow down to the floor, out of the way but within reach if he needs help.

“What are you doing?”

“Getting ready to sleep?”

Booker frowns. “Why are you on the floor then?”

“We won’t all fit on the bed.” His eyebrows furrow further. “It’s no bother, really.”

Sighing, Booker sits cradling the baby to his chest. “Don’t be silly, of course we all fit. Come up here,” he says, patting the mattress by his side. Nile hesitates, a protest sharp at the tip of her tongue. “I know I teased you about…” he continues, closing his eyes, looking so tired. “About your alpha instincts and all that but… It would make me feel better, I think. Hypocrite, I know.”

“Book…”

“Please.”

Later, with an arm thrown over Booker’s middle, his breath warm and constant against her temple, Nile watches the baby secure and fast asleep over his chest, and thinks she’s very, very fucked.

____________________________

Oh we're getting closer to a resolution, but this is definitely quite long already lmao.

❤️❤️❤️ does Booker have a named picked out for their baby girl? Biologically Nile might be nothing to this baby, but that is their daughter for sure

original fill post:https://theoldguardkinkmeme.dreamwidth.org/694.html?thread=2121910#cmt2121910

prompt: https://theoldguardkinkmeme.dreamwidth.org/3653.html?thread=991557#cmt991557

direct link to original fill on ao3:
Come Be Satisfied
https://archiveofourown.org/works/27222301

***

Now with a sequel!

tell you my intentions, do the things that I mentioned
https://archiveofourown.org/works/27395245

Seven years later, Joe is swept off his feet by an older, and more confident, Nicky.

Featuring: Joe collecting on good orgasm karma, Nicky in edible body glitter, and the beginning of a relationship.

“I know a little about that, being wanted for the fantasy. I like wearing makeup now and then, but people expect it means I’m always soft and kind – feminine I suppose, waiting to be ruined under their touch.”

“And sometimes you just want to wear makeup and ruin a hot guy?”

Nicky squeezes Joe’s hand. “Exactly.”

luck be a lady (in gold)
https://archiveofourown.org/works/27395386

deleted scene from the sequel, involving Booker and Nile people-watching Joe and Nicky's date.

Booker peeks a look at them, already a little more present and aware, only to suck in a strangled breath at whatever is it that he sees
He's totally thinking he wants Nile's babies, right? XD

happy to see an update on this author! a much needed bright spot in today

Oh no, he gave both alone? :( Poor Book.

Prompt: https://theoldguardkinkmeme.dreamwidth.org/4108.html?thread=1309196#cmt1309196

Direct link to fill on AO3:
you smell like coconut and bad decisions
https://archiveofourown.org/works/27408049/chapters/66989203

The new guy in Nicky's share house is upsettingly hot. Hot when he stumbles out of his room with bed mussed hair, when he's coming back from the shower glistening in a low slung towel, when he's cooking and nodding along to music in their kitchen. Nicky is dying and spends a lot of time hissing into the phone about it in Italian.

Joe is just trying to get through the last year of his masters and, while admittedly he's been having a little fun with it, knows it's probably time to try and weave the fact that he speaks Italian into a conversation with his hot house mate.

Fill for this prompt: https://theoldguardkinkmeme.dreamwidth.org/4108.html?thread=1382156#cmt1382156
Hope you like it!

For the fifth consecutive year, Nicolò di Génova has won the award for the least accessible person in fashion. Nicolò, thirty-year-old Italian, is a model for brands like Mr. Porter, Zegna and Burberry. His physical charms shine, in the absence of his conversation, forced and in the words of his companions, pedantic. The model has not been presented to receive the award, which we will be happy to keep with the other four […]

"Excuse me, Joe?" A voice interrupted him, and Joe looked up quickly, closing the magazine immediately. Nicolò “call-me-Nicky-please” di Genova was in front of him. Joe noticed the moment his eyes read the cover of the magazine, (a huge photo of Nicolò with an unflattering caption) and he smiled awkwardly, embarrassed to be discovered.
He was alone in the restaurant, the last night of his work. He already wanted to return to the landscapes and the ruins, after a week of long and uncomfortable silences with Nicolò. And it wasn't for lack of trying on his part, but after the fourth time trying to speak to him and receiving blank stares and scowls, he gave up.
At the end of the day, Nicolò vanished into his room, like every day, and Joe decided to enjoy the free hotel meal, before traveling the next day. He didn't expect Nicolò to show up there; he had ordered food to the room each time past.
"What do you need?" He asked, and immediately chided himself, because his tone came out harsher than expected.
"I was wondering if this is you." Nicolò slid an old magazine toward him, and Joe wished the earth would swallow him. The possibility of an analysis of the environment through pictographic evidence, by Yusuf al-Kaysani.
Nicolò looked perfectly serious, and for that alone, Joe dismissed the possibility that the man had searched through the most embarrassing evidence of him as revenge; he would deserve it. After the first day, Joe had been reading in every spare moment all those magazines that criticized Nicolò's behavior, like an immature, cretinous insinuation.
"Yeah, it's me," he admitted then, eager to put an end to it. Nicolò opened his mouth, and his eyes lit up like a child in a toy store. Shit, was it revenge? There was no other choice, he decided in the end. "Do you want to sit down?"
Nicolò settled into the chair in front of him, holding a notebook and a pencil as well, which he squeezed tightly. He looked… delighted? That was strange, a lot, but those days had been too.
"I wasn't sure if you were the author, I wanted to ask you for a week but ..."
"What were you going to ask me?"
Joe reread the first parts of the article. It was old, ten years old at least; he had written it in college, as part of the extra credits. He knew it had been published. That had won him a bet, but after leaving university and radically changing his future, he did not think to find that text again. He didn't even talk to his friends from that time anymore.
"Do you think an adaptation of the analysis is possible? I understand that you propose the use of paintings as a method to see the change of the environment through the eyes of painters, but I wanted to know if it is possible to use the same postulates with another type of art."
Joe was silent. Nicolò had spoken more at that time than in the rest of the week. He looked animated, with a smile that seemed to be seeking out of him through thin lips. He was obviously passionate about the subject.
"What other kind of art?"Joe asked, hungry to see more of those smiles.
"Graffiti, my advisor says that your analysis model cannot be used for works that are not “official” paintings. I had almost given up, but when I saw your name as a photographer, I thought maybe it was you."
Joe's ego was getting dangerously high with every word Nicky spoke. But he knew it wasn't fair for him to be wasting his time.
"Nico-Nicky, I have to confess something to you," he began, and he wished, not for the first time since the beginning of their conversation, he had never written that article. "That job ... I bet with some friends that they would accept me a job that I wrote drunk."
Oh. Nicky's face fell immediately, and the man bit his lip almost cruelly, frowning. Joe assumed the conversation was over before Nicky asked again:
"But can I use it? My advisor asks for the author's permission to do so."
"It's a drunken job, Nicky."
"It's a good job! I just need your permission, please."
"Convince me," Joe replied, suddenly anxious, almost, almost flirting with Nicky. "Academically."
Nicky talked and talked, his hands moving in fine detail, and Joe found himself enjoying the questions he asked Nicky, that were answered with an abundance of data. It was his bachelor's thesis, and although his advisor had told him that he didn't have to do microhistory because he was Italian, it was determined. The works in question were graffiti on the walls of a school that had previously been a barracks and long before, a convent. The paintings portrayed a vision of society in that small town, which went beyond the history that the city hall took as true.
The town in question was the birthplace of Nicolò di Genova. Joe suddenly came across a piece of information that no magazine had come up with up to that point; Nicky was very private, and Joe understood that the gossip gazettes would want more nonpublic information.
"Nicky, can I ask you something?" He dared, hours later, when they were already settled in the hotel chairs. They had switched to Italian, realizing that Joe spoke it well and Nicky was not able to express himself the way he wanted in English. Nicky nodded. "You don't want to be a model, do you?
Nicky smiled softly, and leaned toward him, his eyes sparkling knowingly.
"I hate it," he whispered. "But pays the bills and I'm saving to quit in a couple of years."
"How did you get into modeling?"
"I modeled for an art class in college, someone told someone, and a representative arrived. I've never seen so much money together and I accepted." Nicky laughed again and Joe stared at the pink lips and white teeth, pulling away when Nicky looked back at him. "But when I finish my degree, I would like to teach."
"Oh yeah?"
"As long as you give me permission to use your work. I have the previews in my room, if you want to see them."
Joe opened his mouth and found himself speechless in front of a frankly amused Nicky. Nicky's voice had grown soft, a purr that reached his chest and left his stomach in fire.
"You're flirting with me," he managed to say, and Nicky's smile grew bigger. "So that I give you the permission you need."
"Not just for that, Joe," Nicky replied, rising from the couch.
Following Nicky, Joe took the magazine and threw it in the first trash can he found.

Squee! I love how Joe goes from "ugh fuck this guy" to "oh wow i spent hours talking to this dude about art??? 🤩" Thank you for this lovely fill!

I love the progression from "urgh this guy is such a diva/snob/rude" to "oh.. he just fucki... hates his job" LOvely!!! <3<3<3

What it says on the tin. Have you seen the photos Matthias with small children? I couldn't resist.

The first chapter is up on AO3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27416758/chapters/67013359

Sorry y'all. Here's the link to the prompt: https://theoldguardkinkmeme.dreamwidth.org/4011.html?thread=1143211&posted=1#cmt2295211

Prompt here: https://theoldguardkinkmeme.dreamwidth.org/1106.html?thread=93010#cmt93010

“When Nicky is away on missions Booker keeps Joe’s bed warm.”

Re-prompted here: https://theoldguardkinkmeme.dreamwidth.org/6085.html?thread=2200517#cmt2200517

“Even though Nicky/Joe is my indisputable OTP, whenever I wish to torture myself (and my favourite characters) I go looking for Booker/Joe because: 1) it’s extremely hard to find, and 2) whatever the nature of their relationship may be, it’s very likely that one or both of them will eventually get hurt.”

Everyone knows that Joe loves Nicky, but—realistically—they’re not able to spend every living moment together. Andy would never allow him to bring home some stranger to one of their safehouses, just so he could satisfy his need for a bed partner. So Joe settled for a compromise he thought they could all live with—convincing Booker to keep his bed warm whenever Nicky goes away.

“I don’t think I’m the man you’re looking for,” Booker said to Joe, trying to remind him of the commitment he’d made to Nicky before he was even born.

“He’s not here right now,” Joe murmured, easily brushing off his objection. “Even Andy’s gone out to seek her own satisfaction tonight. No one else is here, but us. No one else needs to know about this, if you don’t want them to.”

Read the whole thing here: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27419755

I love this!!!

Prompt here: https://theoldguardkinkmeme.dreamwidth.org/5880.html?thread=1966840#cmt1966840

First time posting here! Please lmk if I did anything wrong! Sorry if this goes on way too long, sensual ASMR-ing starts in part 3 :)

If you would have told Joe, 3 months ago, that his new, unbelievably loud neighbour would be sitting in front of him, totally silent and pliant and ready to let Joe do whatever he wanted to him, he would have told you, politely, that you were crazy. And yet, there Nicky sat, his back to him, his shoulders relaxed, and yet anticipation thrummed through the perfectly quiet room. Joe glanced at the monitor where Nicky’s eyes blazed back at him, a soft smile on his lips. Joe swallowed thickly.

How could his mortal enemy have turned into this? To be fair, mortal enemy (or mortal enemy with those shoulders as Joe described him to Booker and Nile) was a strong epithet, but what else to call the man who moves in next door and insists on playing music at all hours of the day? And moving furniture back and forth for seemingly no reason? And seemingly inviting elephants over for midnight parties?

It would’ve been manageable (if annoying), if it wasn’t for the fact that half of Joe’s income depended on total, complete silence. His ASMR channel had gained a loyal following and he had a community of people who depended on his soft voice and soothing words and the minute movements of his warm dry hands to find some comfort in what was an increasingly scary world.

So, two weeks after being totally unable to film a video without some interruption, Joe worked up the necessary amount of courage and marched next door.

He was taken aback when Nicky opened up. The man was not what he'd expected from what he’d only seen from afar and from behind (Those shoulders! He’d complained to Nile who was looking out over the balcony with Joe at the man struggling to carry a giant load of groceries. It’s not fair that a man so loud should have such nice shoulders. Nile had laughed, craning for a better look. Among other assets… Nile wiggled her eyebrows. Joe scowled at her. Judas.)

But this man, the one who opened the door, looked unimaginably...soft. There was no other word for it. His hair flopped over his forehead, just long enough to curl around his ears. A bit of downy scruff lined his jaw. He was wearing a giant holey sweater, an olive tea-towel draped over his shoulder, a pair of worn-in denim, wool socks. How could someone who wore wool socks make so much noise?

“Hi,” He answered with a wary smile.

“Hi, listen, I live next door… I…” Joe got distracted. The man’s eyes. His nose. The shape of his cupid’s bow. Joe’s fingers itched for something to draw with. Traitors.

“Nice to meet you,” The man smiled wider. It finally reached his eyes which lit up, an ocean glinting with the sun. “I was wondering if anyone lived there -- it’s so quiet!”

Joe squinted, all thoughts of oceans and suns gone. “Right, well, about that. Um.”

“I’m Nicky,” The man held out his hand. Joe huffed impatiently and took it.

“Joe. Look --”

“Sorry, I just have some risotto on the stove that really needs my attention, would you like to come in?”

And that’s how Joe found himself in the apartment of his mortal enemy, hearing all about Nicky’s perilous move -- he had no bed, it had gotten lost somewhere. How does one lose a bed? Joe asked. Exactly! Nicky exclaimed. Joe didn’t tell him that he was confused how Nicky lost a bed whereas Nicky was confused how the universe conspired to misplace it.

Joe surveyed the apartment around him. The layout was almost the same as his but covered in someone else’s minutiae. Piles of paper everywhere and so many books, Joe tried to read the titles but most were in Italian. There were plants in various states of decay -- Nicky explained most didn’t like to be moved but they would bounce back.

The kitchen was similarly chaotic, spices, beans, legumes, pulses, sauces, utensils, and strange appliances Joe couldn’t for the life of him imagine a use for. Nicky noticed his eyes roaming over the mess.

“Everything’s just… waiting for a home,” Nicky gestured vaguely with his hands.

The risotto simmered on the stove next to a pot of stock and Nicky tended to it carefully.

“It’s almost done,” Nicky smiled, taking a deep breath of the rich earthy aroma. He grabbed some thyme and started picking the leaves off carefully, while asking Joe how long he’d lived in the building, what was the deal with the garbage chute, and other minor neighborly small talk.

Joe answered in a bit of a daze as he watched Nicky maneuver around the kitchen. He was sure he came over with a point but what seemed important now was to watch this man elegantly tend to this small pot of rice. Gradually adding stock, adding salt, pepper, grating parmesan. His movements were fluid and easy in a way that made Joe wander idly if he was a chef or just extremely Italian.

“Ah,” Nicky sighed finally, after gingerly dipping a fresh spoon into the pot and taking a small bite. “Perfetto. Can I interest you in a bowl?”

“Uh.” Joe wasn’t sure. Was it okay to eat with a handsome mortal enemy? There wasn’t really a handbook on these things.

“It’s a truffle risotto, lemon, thyme, parmesan,” Nicky described, as if Joe’s hesitation was based on a dietary restriction.

“Okay,” Joe shrugged. Surely taking advantage of your mortal enemy’s cooking was a good thing. Ha! No leftovers for you! He tried to think evilly, but he could already tell his heart wasn’t in it.

“Great!” Nicky produced two bowls from a stray cardboard box and loaded them up, topping them off with some shaved mushrooms and cheese. Only then he realized he didn't have anything resembling a kitchen table or chairs.

“Uh, is the couch okay for you?” He asked, a small blush creeping up his face.

Joe cursed internally as he found it stupidly charming.

“Great,” He took his bowl and sat down at one end, Nicky at the other.

Joe held back an audible groan as he took his first bite. The rich, earthy flavour of the mushrooms melded with the bright flavour of the lemon and the balancing freshness of the herbs. Fuck, Joe thought simply.

“So what do you Joe?” Nicky asked.

Joe was snapped back to reality. He put his bowl down carefully between his knees.

“Actually, that’s sort of what I came here to talk to you about,” He winced as Nicky’s brow knitted together. Joe realized he much preferred the calm, relaxed version of that face. He decided to get it over with quickly.

“I’m, um, a freelance artist, and a lot of my work requires total silence and, um, actually I came to ask, if you wouldn’t mind, keeping the noise to a minimum, at least during the day.” He said, tripping over his words. “If you don’t mind.” He added, redundancy deflating any pride he had left.

Nicky put his bowl down on a cardboard box.

“Joe, I apologize,” He said, his tone totally serious. “I really didn’t know anyone was living there and I had some friends over to help me paint and things. I really didn’t know.”

“That’s okay, I understand,” Joe, bashful, picked his bowl back up again. Suddenly he felt like the annoying neighbour and that was just unfair. How had that happened?

“I promise to keep it down. I have some good headphones for music and after the bed gets here I will commit to furniture placement, I promise. I hate to think that I was disrupting you.”

“It’s fine, I get it,” Joe took another bite.

“What kind of art do you do?” Nicky asked.

“All different types,” Joe said. He always hated this conversation. Most people didn’t really know about or understand ASMR and to explain it always came out weird and slightly creepy. Yes, new hot neighbour, I make videos of myself whispering and sensually caressing random objects for strangers on the internet so they can relax. He stuck with his tried and true. “I do some illustration work, some audio recording stuff, whatever pays the bills.”

Nicky nodded. “I’d love to see it sometime.”

“Sure,” Joe agreed before even thinking about it. Nicky just seemed an easy person to give in to.

“I’m a grad student, so usually pretty quiet,” Nicky explained, even though Joe hadn’t asked. “Usually I spend the day reading old Italian literature. It doesn’t get more quiet than that.”

“I feel like Swedish literature has got to be more quiet than Italian literature,” Joe mused.

Nicky smiled brighter. Joe felt something in his stomach flutter.

“I think the Moomins would disagree with you there,” Nicky replied.

Joe giggled, he actually giggled? When was the last time that noise came out of his mouth. Nicky smiled even brighter and continued on to tell Joe how his mortal fear of the strange Swedish fairytale creatures turned into a bit of an embarrassing obsession. And Joe listened, enjoying the dramatic telling, getting distracted by the way Nicky’s lips seemed to cling to vowels, the way his mouth opened to the right when he was about to smile. Joe wanted him to talk forever. He longed for an easel, a piece of paper, a napkin, anything to draw on.

Nicky asked him about his most feared cartoon and suddenly day had turned to night. The sun set through Nicky’s window and a soft orange glow surrounded them. They continued chatting aimlessly, though their bowls were eventually clean. The sun retreated behind some buildings. Joe wondered if he should leave but Nicky offered seconds and Joe happily accepted. As Nicky refilled their bowls with the now room temperature risotto, Joe looked at the clock on the stove and gasped.

“It’s not one in the morning!” He said, in a sudden panic. Not that he had anywhere to be or anyone to worry but, how had he come over to scold a neighbor and lost an evening?

“No!” Nicky said quickly. “I haven’t figured out how to change the time.” He looked at the unassuming watch on his wrist. “It’s only 8:30.”

Joe let out a relieved sigh. Sure, it was a little late, but this man hadn’t literally stolen his ability to measure time.

“I can do that for you.” He got up and knelt down in front of the stove. In one swift motion, Nicky kneeled next to him. Joe was suddenly aware of how close they were -- their shoulders (those shoulders) almost touching as Nicky watched Joe go through the very involved process of changing the time.

Up close, Joe could see the details of a small beauty mark on Nicky’s cheek, where it was hidden in his smile and facial hair. Joe had the oddest sensation that he wanted to bite it, just nip at it. What. The. Fuck. He thought to himself. Just be normal.

But it was difficult with Nicky so close. So close, Joe could finally identify the source of the intoxicating scent he’d smelled earlier. Woody, herbal, earthy, like the sweet smell of a forest after a rainfall. And something deeper, muskier. Joe tried not to think about it. He needed to get out of there.

He left quickly after that, much to Nicky’s quickly hidden disappointment. After multiple promises of dead silence and many thanks for fixing the clock Joe rushed back into his own place and tried to calm down. It was surprisingly difficult without the ambient noise coming from next door.

Joe hadn’t expected to suddenly miss that stomping, that loud music, those happy voices until they were actually gone. He certainly hadn’t expected a knock on his door two days later, and Nicky to arrive with a bottle of wine and a tupperware full of more risotto (It’s squash, are you vegetarian?).

“I just wanted to apologize again, I’m really sorry Joe,” Nicky said completely seriously as he handed Joe the gifts.

Joe hadn’t expected to invite Nicky in to join him in eating said squash risotto and drinking what turned out to be a very nice bottle of wine.

Joe watched Nicky surveil his apartment. The neatly organized drafting table, the easels with half finished portraits of Nile and, shit, Joe thought, the open door to his recording room. To an untrained eye, it looked weird, he knew it did. A dark room with foam covered walls, a binaural microphone with uncanny ear attachments, a relatively fancy camera pointing at the whole set up. He quickly closed the door, which he then realized made it look ten times more suspicious.

“It’s an art project,” Joe said vaguely. Nicky nodded slowly with a confused look on his face.

Joe tried to distract him with questions about his doctoral studies. Yes, he wanted to be a professor, and no, there were no jobs in academia. He learned of Nicky’s academic parents and the strange route he came by to settling into doctoral student-hood (culinary school, tech startup, he’d even considered seminary). Somehow, Joe also started sharing the round about way he came to being an “artist” (surprisingly supportive parents, travelling, a brief stint in radio commercials). Joe was surprised how comfortable he felt sharing all this with the man he’d considered Most Hateful less than 48 hours before.

And yet, here they were, eating, drinking, making merry. Nicky had even cheekily told him to be quiet after Joe burst out in a particularly loud laugh, “Careful, I hear some of the neighbors need quiet around here!” which made Joe laugh even harder.

And that’s how it started. After long days of quiet, Joe working diligently recording videos, Nicky would just … show up. Sometimes with a new culinary concoction, sometimes with a bottle of wine and some fresh figs from the market down the road, sometimes with a distressed furrow in his brow and a microwave manual in his hand. And each time, Joe felt that same flutter in his stomach.

“I think what you’re describing is friendship,” Nile said after Joe described his predicament to her on her couch.

Booker nodded knowingly from the armchair.

“But,” Joe said helplessly. “He was so horrible when he moved in. You remember how loud he was?”

Nile rolled her eyes at him. “He was moving in, Joe, and he thought he was living next to a ghost!” Nile was eager to forgive Nicky his sin of existing, even though she’d never met him. She simply appreciated a good ass when she saw one.

“It’s not his fault that you need complete silence so people can get their rocks off to you whispering,” Booker said.

Joe and Nile both shot him the same glare. Nile got it, Booker… Well, he tried.

“Oh god, what if he finds out,” Joe put his head in his hands.

Nile rubbed his back gently. “Who cares?”

“What if he cares?” Joe said. Unavoidably his mind turned to his previous boyfriend, who found the whole endeavour off-putting, so much so that he’d asked Joe to stop and Joe had asked him to leave. But why was Joe even thinking about former boyfriends? He wasn’t even sure if Nicky was gay. He’d never even mentioned a former partner.

“Well, if he somehow finds out and if he is weird about it then we can go back to hating him in peace,” Booker said supportively. “I miss those days.”

“Anyway, how’s he gonna find out?” Nile asked.

It turned out, pretty easily.

Nicky showed up, as usual, at Joe’s door with a bottle of Merlot and a tray of freshly baked biscotti. An experiment, he’d announced, and Joe was to be his willing lab rat. Joe poured the wine and they settled in on his couch, tasting the biscotti which turned out to be delicious.

An hour and a few glasses later, their conversation settled and Joe could sense nervousness radiating at him from the other man. He sat on the edge of the couch, he picked crumbs off his jeans.

“What?” Joe asked, steeling himself.

“I don't want to sound weird,” Nicky said hesitantly.

“You always sound weird,” Joe teased but his heart was thumping in his chest.

“Is the reason you need so much quiet because you make videos?” Nicky asked. Just vague enough to let Joe lie.

Joe swallowed, his throat suddenly dry. “Yeah.”

“ASMR videos?” Nicky asked, his voice totally neutral, though Joe could tell there was something hidden behind the question.

Joe nodded.

“I hope you don’t think this is weird,” Nicky started glancing at his hands, as if… guilty? Joe couldn’t place it. “But...I found some of your videos, at least I’m pretty sure they’re yours, and I watched them all.”

Nicky kept staring down at his hands, fidgeting, as if stopping himself from clasping them together in penance.

“You watched them all?” Joe said incredulously. Even he hadn’t watched all of his videos, they were usually hour-long affairs, he usually just edited any abrupt loud noises out and called it a day.

Nicky nodded. He looked up from his hands and gazed into Joe’s eyes. “I’m so sorry.”

“Huh?” Joe hadn’t expected an apology.

“It feels wrong to watch so much of you without your permission, those videos are so personal and … intimate … and it just feels weird and creepy for me to be…” He swallowed. “Falling asleep to you every night while you sleep next door and have no idea.”

Joe stared at him. Nicky was falling asleep to him every night?

“And I know me telling you this is probably even more awkward for you, and I get if it ruins …” He gestured to the wine and the biscotti crumbs. “But I couldn’t go on pretending I wasn’t a total freak, I just --”

“Stop,” Joe said finally. He reached out and grabbed Nicky’s hands. Nicky inhaled sharply.

“I’m sorry,” Nicky whispered again, staring at Joe’s warm hands encompassing his freezing ones.

“You really don’t have to be,” Joe said slowly, dipping his head to capture Nicky’s gaze.

To his horror, Joe noticed a tear threatening to drop from Nicky’s long eyelashes. Joe frowned as his hand automatically lifted up as the tear fell down Nicky’s face. Joe thumbed it away as his palm rested on Nicky’s cheek.

Nicky startled at the touch. His whole body seemed to shudder. Joe froze. It was the first time he’d touched Nicky’s face. He hadn’t even asked.

As he was about to draw his hand away, he felt Nicky lean in ever so slightly, his shoulders dropped, the tension in his brows eased away. His whole being relaxed into the palm of Joe’s hand.

Joe didn’t want to move, he didn’t want an inch of that tension back. So they rested there for a moment, Joe sweeping his thumb lightly over Nicky’s cheekbone, Nicky’s breathing slowing.

“It’s okay,” Joe said, and he noticed he had unconsciously taken on the vocal quality he usually reserved for videos. “I really don't mind if you watch my videos.” He paused, unsure of how to convince Nicky that was true. “That’s what they’re there for, to help people relax.”

“You really don’t mind?” Nicky asked again.

Joe shook his head. They stared at each other for a moment more, Joe suddenly aware of the heat of Nicky’s cheek under his hand. He dropped it slowly.

“A lot of my friends watch them, actually,” Joe said, trying to ease Nicky’s mind. “In fact, I only experimented with the pencil crayons last week because my friend Nile suggested it.”

Nicky nodded, he enjoyed that one immensely.

“Now, if only they would agree to be in my videos…” Joe chuckled to himself. He’d been needling Nile and Booker to join him ever since he’d seen a video with some friends in it do extremely well. They insisted they were camera shy.

Nicky looked at him resolutely, as if making up his mind. “I could do it, I could be in your video.”

“Are you sure?” Joe asked slowly. It was a big ask, putting your face out in public in a little understood sub-genre. That sort of thing was not for the faint of heart.

Nicky nodded. “If it would mean a live performance, I would be honored.”

Joe poured them each another glass of wine and they started discussing contracts (Nicky would not hear of accepting any money, he would consider an hour and a half massage his payment, much to Joe’s protestation), limits (Nicky was okay with everything except touching his hair, to Joe’s surprise, he didn’t force him to elaborate), and, of course, outfits (something soft, comfortable and no brand labels).

When the wine and the conversation was done, Nicky left with a giant grin on his face and a hug. A hug! Joe thought dizzily, their first. It was encompassing, as if Nicky’s arms were made to fit around Joe’s body’s just so. Joe was ensconced in the scent he had come to associate with Nicky and he breathed in deeply.

Joe closed the door and slumped back into the couch. He stared up at the ceiling, hoping this wouldn’t be a huge mistake.

Sensual touching below :)!

Joe did one last check to make sure the microphone and the camera were recording. He also adjusted the lighting just a touch. The soft orange glow illuminated Nicky’s hair and brushed over his shoulders, again Joe’s finger twitched.

“Alright, you ready to do this?” Joe asked.

Nicky nodded and took a deep, shaky breath.

Joe nodded back and maneuvered around Nicky to get behind him. A quick glance to the monitor and he saw that they were both in frame, but Nicky’s face and shoulders were the focus. Perfect, he thought.

“Okay,” Joe whispered and placed his hands on Nicky’s shoulders. Nicky’s slight shivering stilled at his touch.

“Okay,” Joe whispered again, settling himself.

“Hi everyone, welcome to today’s video.” His whispers were soft, precise, each word enunciated with just enough force.

“Today we have a very special guest joining us, this is my friend Nicky.” He squeezed Nicky’s left shoulder and elicited a small, nervous grin. “So we’re doing something a little different.” Joe’s thumb started moving quite beyond his control, tracing the juncture between neck and shoulder.

“Today, we’re going to just hang out, relax, and Nicky’s very kindly helping me out by being my model,” Joe flicked his eyes to the monitor where Nicky was still grinning.

“My pleasure,” Nicky whispered.

Joe felt it reverberate around the room. Nicky’s whisper was gravelly, low, it seemed to rumble around him. Was his voice always like that? Joe realized he’d never heard him whisper before.

“So first, I’m going to focus on the neck and shoulders,” Joe said as he brushed his fingers, featherlight, across Nicky’s broad shoulders. Joe’s brain short-circuited for a moment just on a loop of shoulders shoulders shoulders. This close, he couldn’t believe their sheer size, they seemed to go on forever. Not that Nicky was particularly built, or anything, (Joe couldn’t picture him in a gym) but the shape of him.

Thankfully, while his mind caught up, Joe’s fingers continued to move, tracing up and down Nicky’s shoulders, occasionally drifting forward to where Nicky’s collarbones were framed by the loose scoop of his old t-shirt.

Joe glanced at the monitor again. Nicky’s grin had softened, his eyes half-lidded.

“Nicky holds a lot of tension in his shoulders,” Joe whispered slowly. “He spends most of his day hunched over books.”

Where Joe knew Nicky would usually argue (I don’t hunch!), he simply exhaled with a little huff. Joe couldn’t believe how quickly Nicky had shifted into this relaxed version of himself, all his kinetic nervous energy was sapped out of him as soon as Joe started touching him.

Joe kept one hand lightly tapping around Nicky’s right shoulder, with the other he started to caress Nicky’s neck with fluttering touches.

Nicky inhaled deeply, his eyes closing, his eyebrows drawing together.

“Good?” Joe asked with a smile that Nicky couldn't see.

“Si,” Nicky breathed out, his own soft smile returning.

Joe’s other hand joined him at Nicky’s neck, fingers working up and down, tracing the long column. He swirled a finger around Nicky’s adam's apple which bobbed up and down in a thick swallow. Joe found himself focussed on the way Nicky’s pulse seemed to throb in his jugular, too fast at first. Nicky was supposed to be relaxing. Maybe he needed the whispering?

Joe started rambling in a low soft whisper, about necks, shoulders, relaxation. He wasn’t even entirely too sure what was coming out of his mouth but that happened in a lot of his videos. He just started and the words flowed, supplied by some endless well.

As he spoke, Joe’s fingers danced over the long vein in Nicky’s neck, the hectic thump had slowed to a steady beat. Strong but steady.

After fifteen minutes (or hours, Joe couldn’t tell), of exploring Nicky’s neck and shoulders Joe adjusted himself slightly to the right so he could look at Nicky’s profile as his thumbs moved upwards to make small circles on the sweet spot where jaw met neck.

He shifted Nicky’s head to the side so he could cradle it in both hands. Nicky’s eyes opened slowly and he gazed at Joe as though drunk, a goofy smile overtaking his face.

“How are you doing?” Joe asked.

Nicky just nodded, words seemed to elude him.

Joe smiled back and brought his fingers up to smooth across Nicky’s eyebrows, over and over again petting the soft hair there.

Joe’s fingers then circled around and found a rhythm, back and forth, in the deep, dark recesses under Nicky’s eyes.

“You need to get more sleep,” Joe said fondly, though he found the way the dark circles offset Nicky’s glittering eyes a thing of beauty. Nicky huffed a small laugh.

“Mi distraggo dalla tua bella voce,” Nicky whispered, staring up at Joe as though he had hung the moon.

Joe smiled and wondered if Nicky was even aware he had spoken in Italian.

He moved on to Nicky’s nose, that glorious nose, stroking it up and down for what felt like hours. Nicky endearingly scrunched it up as Joe moved on to his cheeks and chin tapping and moving in light circles. He paid special attention to his beauty mark.

Nicky’s face was surprisingly soft and dry and Joe could tell the sounds of his gentle ministrations mixed with Nicky’s contented sighs and his own occasional whispers would make for a good video.

Joe rested a thumb at the corner of Nicky’s mouth and to his surprise it fell open and a rush of air escaped. The soft wet noise of Nicky’s mouth opening so easily, so willingly, felt deafening.

Joe traced his finger along Nicky’s lower lip. It dragged slightly and Nicky’s tongue darted out to smooth the way for him. Joe paused.

He took a deep breath and continued.

His thumb glided across the now slick pink skin. He wondered what Nicky would do if his thumb moved forward, over that white ridge of teeth into the wet velvet heat within.

Nicky’s eyes fluttered open, they seemed to struggle to focus on Joe. His face was completely slack and Joe was sure that if he had, if his fingers did find their way into Nicky’s mouth, he wouldn’t object.

Joe cleared his throat as softly as he could and continued tracing the outline of Nicky’s lips, spending a few extra minutes just tapping along his lovely cupid’s bow. Nicky’s eyes closed again.

Eventually, Joe maneuvered back around to stand once again behind Nicky. His hands returned to his collarbones, tracing them with more featherlight touches.

Nicky’s head fell back with a gentle thunk, landing on the soft stretch of stomach between Joe’s ribs. It was as if he was so relaxed, his neck no longer functioned to hold the weight of his head.

Joe moved to his ears, tracing the ridges and rubbing over the soft lobes. He felt Nicky’s head, heavy against his abdomen, sway back and forth as Joe switched between right and left ear, again and again.

Joe looked down and was again struck by how pliant Nicky was. He gazed up at him, his eyes heavy, looking intoxicated, sated, hypnotized. Had Joe really done all that?

He cupped the back of Nicky’s skull in his palm and leaned into his ear, whispering, “How are we doing Nicky?” His breath was warm and close as it ghosted over the shell of Nicky’s ear. Joe watched as the hair on Nicky’s arms stood on end as a shiver seemed to roll over his whole body like a wave.

“Perfetto,” Nicky sighed, leaning into Joe’s palm, exposing the long line of his neck, as if inviting Joe to take a bite.

“Excellent,” Joe said, gently shifting Nicky’s head to his other hand, leaning above his other ear.

“Well, thank you for joining Nicky and me tonight. If you liked the video, please like and subscribe and consider supporting the Patreon so I can treat Nicky to an eye mask. As always,” Joe paused, his usual outro seemed strange to say with such a touch-drunk, gorgeous man in his hands. “I love you and you deserve peace and rest. Take care, sweet dreams.”

Nicky returned to his apartment and fell into his bed without even brushing his teeth. His head was blessedly empty, his whole body felt like it was buzzing.

Relaxed, safe, his mind supplied, when was the last time you felt that? He wondered as he drifted easily into sleep, only awoken for a moment at the sound of a door slamming somewhere in the distance.

Joe, on the other hand, moved frantically around his apartment, so keyed up he felt like had to go on a jog or something equally drastic. He then decided to be productive, popped in his wireless headphones, and spent an hour making sure the footage was properly recorded then had to stop when he reached the moment where Nicky’s tongue wet his lips. Joe stared at the video in front of him.

“Fuck,” he whispered to no one in particular.

His body seemed to agree and he felt himself growing achingly hard. His jeans, which usually fit him perfectly, now felt uncomfortably tight. His conscience swooped in. Isn’t it weird to jerk off to the thought of your neighbor? Your friend? The man you just spent an hour and a half caressing for the internet? On the other hand, Isn’t it weirder to let your lust for him fester instead of just dealing with it and moving on with your life?

His body agreed, he felt his cock twitch impatiently. He rushed to his bedroom, slamming the door and turning off the lights. He sprawled across the bed and tugged his jeans down. One hand flung to his dresser for some lube, the other releasing himself from his underwear.

His thoughts were consumed by Nicky’s mouth, his nose, the shape of his neck.

He didn’t even realize until he was fucking up into his fist that he still had his headphones in. He wasn’t just imagining Nicky’s soft sighs, he was hearing them as the video continued playing in the other room.

“Fuuuck,” Joe groaned loudly, a tight heat coiling in his belly.

His pace quickened with his heart beat. He suddenly found himself gasping for air as the wet sounds of his hand on his cock mixed with the soft breathiness of Nicky’s sighs and the delicate sound of Joe’s fingers moving across his lips.

Joe felt himself getting closer and closer, his cock now slick with lube and his own precome. He felt the pressure building as he worked himself faster and faster in his tight wet fist. He screwed his eyes shut, focussing on the pleasure building with each tug. He knew it wouldn’t be long.

Suddenly, in his ear he heard someone whisper, “You like that don’t you?” A soft sigh answered.

A noise strangled in his throat as he came. His head flung back, and his feet dug into the mattress as thick ropes of come shot over his fist and onto his shirt. His brain shorted out, his head empty as he stared at the ceiling, his chest heaving and the sounds of Nicky breathing heavy in his ear.

He didn’t remember saying that.

He looked down at the mess of himself, still breathing heavily. He threw an arm over his face and exhaled into his elbow.

“Andy, you need to see this,” Quynh said to her partner as she was scrolling through the comments on the youtube video. They’d watched it the night before when Nicky had sent it to them in a text that read: “Joe’s new video, featuring me! I’m only sending it to you so you don’t find it on your own.”

They, of course, watched it immediately. Andy commented on how peaceful Nicky looked, Quynh replying it must be how he looked when he was thoroughly fucked-out (which earned her a playful nudge from Andy).

Though it might be hard to explain to the rest of the faculty, Andy was just happy to see Nicky look so relaxed and to see this Joe (hot neighbour with the smile, as Nicky called him) treating Nicky so gently, so well. He looked at Nicky like he was something precious. On that they agreed.

Quynh couldn’t stop watching it.

Andy, who had been busy on her side of the bed with her own computer, rolled over to tuck her head on Quynh’s breast and stare at her screen. “What?”

“Look at the comments on Nicky’s video,” Quynh scrolled to the top so Andy could get a good view.

Am I … interrupting something?

HAROLD!

I was today years old when I realized I am gay

How do I explain to my husband why I’m watching this??

Omg, this is so relaxing, please get Nicky back!

Do you want me to lock the door for you guys??

Get you a man who looks at you like this 4:38

I am VERY comfortable with the energy we have created in the studio today

Me: opens this vid to fall asleep too. Also me: watches the whole thing and proceeds to take a cold shower...

Ummm …. Am I old enough to be watching this?

Andy’s eyes widened as she moved Quynh’s hand out of the way so she could scroll faster. There were thousands of comments, all positive with varying levels of horniness.

“Oh my god,” She said, barely restraining a giggle.

“He really does have a nice smile,” Quynh said, agreeing with the comments that said as much.

More later sensual touching later! Thanks for reading so far!

*screams*

Count me as one of the both relaxed but horny commenters 😂 I love getting Quynh and Andy’s POV too~

Also looooove how this skates the line of intimate, sensual, and erotic.

👀👀👀👀👀

Prompt here: https://theoldguardkinkmeme.dreamwidth.org/6403.html?thread=2262787&posted=1#cmt2311427

Summary/teaser:
It’s going on three days since the gang had taken Nicky, and the concern amongst the team is reaching a fever pitch.

Joe is beside himself. He blames himself for the capture, distraught that he had been across the property with Booker at the time, rigging crates of illegal weapons with explosives. He’s pacing now, hat in his hands, hair wild, going out of his mind with an anxiety that Booker has never seen in him, but one that he knows intimately: the soul-ripping fear that accompanies a loved one in peril, made sharper and more jagged by uncertainty. Booker has lived with this time and time again, and the sight of Joe in torment makes his heart ache.

It also gives him the tiniest thrill of schadenfreude. Good. Maybe it’s finally time for Joe to suffer this, to fear the loss of the one he loves most, to gain an inkling of understanding of what it’s like to stare down the prospect of eternal solitude. Maybe it will make him more human.

He hates himself for the thought, but it curls around him like smoke, suffocating his compassion.

Read the rest here: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27424117

I don't know how you did it, but I got an ASMR response from Nicky's ASMR response 👌

OP here and OH MY GOD
I am looking respectfully. This is everything I wanted and more, holy shit, I can't even– this is– f u c k. I LOVE it.

i don't even go here and i love this!!!

Threaded | Top-Level Comments Only

Page 1 of 53

Fills Post #2

Booker/Nile, A/B/O, exile pregnancy (6/?) Cont.

Re: Booker/Nile, A/B/O, exile pregnancy (6/?) Cont.

SEQUEL FILL: Joe/Nicky - teen!nicky posts on [Craigslist] to lose his virginity

DELETED SCENE: Joe/Nicky - teen!nicky posts on [Craigslist] to lose his virginity

Re: Booker/Nile, A/B/O, exile pregnancy (6/?) Cont.

Re: Booker/Nile, A/B/O, exile pregnancy (6/?) Cont.

Joe/Nicky - House mates AU

Re: Joe/Nicky - House mates AU

Fill Joe/Nicky Photographer AU

Re: Fill Joe/Nicky Photographer AU

Re: Fill Joe/Nicky Photographer AU

Fill: Booker + becoming a surrogate father

Re: Fill: Booker + becoming a surrogate father

Fill: Booker/Joe, bed-warming

Re: Fill Joe/Nicky Photographer AU

FILL: Joe/Nicky, ASMRtist Joe (1/?)

Re: FILL: Joe/Nicky, ASMRtist Joe (2/?)

Re: FILL: Joe/Nicky, ASMRtist Joe (3/?)

Re: FILL: Joe/Nicky, ASMRtist Joe (4/?)

Re: FILL: Joe/Nicky, ASMRtist Joe (4/?)

Re: FILL: Joe/Nicky, ASMRtist Joe (4/?)

Fill: "you say no, i say repeat" Joe/Nicky, Nicky/Booker, Non-con

Re: FILL: Joe/Nicky, ASMRtist Joe (4/?)

Re: FILL: Joe/Nicky, ASMRtist Joe (4/?)

Re: FILL: Joe/Nicky, ASMRtist Joe (4/?)