theoldguardkinkmeme | Fills Post #2

Fills Post #2

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prompt: https://theoldguardkinkmeme.dreamwidth.org/5552.html?thread=1754032#cmt1754032

Joe is a vampire and Nicky is his thrall/familiar/ghoul (whatever you want to call it). Unlike a lot of vampires Joe doesn't take advantage of his "power" over Nicky but uses it to help Nicky get a better life (maybe get away from parents trying to convert him for his sexuality, or an abusive partner). Nicky is grateful and they have a fully committed relationship.

Nicky doesn't even necessarily want to become a vampire, he's just happy to be with Joe. Whether you go the route where Joe and Nicky have been together for ages because Joe's blood keeps Nicky young(ish) forever, or it's fairly new, is all up to you.

Fill:
https://archiveofourown.org/works/28869582
As Constant As A Star

“It’s my birthday,” Nicky says, “and I would like you to bite me.”

Joe and Nicky discuss Nicky becoming Joe’s symbiont.

Did you ever wish for an Octavia E. Butler Fledgling pseudo-fusion where all the characters of color are vampires? This one's for you. A short fill featuring romantic!Nicky and Nicky doing the love declaration.

Wow... Just wow. This is mind meltingly good smut. 🔥🔥🔥

Haha, remember when I was shooting for daily updates.? *facepalm*

I'm really sorry it took this long; I plead mental health stuff (not of the dramatic variety, just the annoying variety) and, uh... too many 5 AM shifts? *winning smile*

I totally plan to have the next one up SOONER, but I make no promises just to be safe. Chapter 9 is here, and it is at least longer than the last one. :)

Omg that's so hot 🔥🥵 let me fan myself. Thanks for writing, thoroughly enjoyed it!

OP:
Oh my god!! I more than enjoyed this!! Pretty sure my brain has melted!! Thank you, anon, for writing this!!

Oh my goodness I love your updates so much I just...I am suffering and dying here. Poor Joe, wanting so desperately to be held and to hold Nicky. I hope he gets his wish to cuddle.

Also this feels like the wrong phrase for such a beautiful fic but Joe kinda seems like an incredible pillow princess here like pls nicky, introduce him to the wonders of getting fucked he was clearly made to just lie there and take it.

Will most definitely not complain if there's more in this universe 👀👀👀

There’s been a lot of prompts lately for king!Joe and sex slave!Nicky and I wanted to try my shot at it with a joe who is confused and angry but learns to kinda...go with things lol

Link to prompt that inspired this: https://theoldguardkinkmeme.dreamwidth.org/9603.html?thread=3322243#cmt3322243

Hope you all enjoy!

—

“Highness.”

Yusuf spins from where he had resting all his weight on both hands, one on either side of the large map he had been overseeing. His eyes are red rimmed from exhaustion. Genoa is small but mighty, and though the possibility of peace hung ambiguously on the air, he couldn’t waste precious time.

“Yes?” Yusuf asked the servant.

“King Val of Genoa has commanded his men to stand down. He wishes to offer peace in the form of a gift.”

A gift?

It wasn’t far-fetched for the Genoans, but Val and Yusuf had exchanged nothing but hostilities since Yusuf had assumed the throne from his father years ago. Where Val seemed to believe Yusuf was undoing his father’s legacy, Yusuf lacked patience for Val’s archaic ways.

“Very well,” Yusuf said, attempting to hide his budding amusement, “bring it in.”

“I am afraid I am unable to,” the servant instead replied.

Yusuf blinked back his frustration, turning now to his loyal subjects where they stood around the table, “Apologies.”

He slid out of the room in a huff, ignoring the unmistakable, growing sound of the footsteps behind him, curiosity spreading throughout his subjects like the plague.

Yusuf makes his way to the large, ornate throne room, where his present awaits at the center. The box is large and assuming, comprised of a thick, strong wood. Yusuf wonders what possible treasures could be waiting inside, what could possibly derail his plans that were moments away form being set in stone.

Two servants stand on either side of the box, awaiting Yusuf’s orders to unseal it. But something unusual catches Yusuf’s eye. A piece of wood, lighter than the rest of the box, beckons him closer. As Yusuf bends down to inspect, he is quickly able to deduce that the upper part of the box is only partially removable, a handle on the side allowing him to slide the panel away and perhaps have a peek.

And so Yusuf does, truly unable to stop himself, curiosity having now reached a fever pitch -

He doesn’t exclaim, not necessarily, because he is truly at a loss for words at what he is able to catch a glimpse of.

Large eyes. A color Yusuf has not seen on anyone. Blue when the sunlight hits them just right, green otherwise. The color of the sea that separated the two kingdoms.

Yusuf commands his surrounding servants forward, himself taking several steps back in utter awe. The poor creature’s eyes refuse to leave Yusuf’s, blown wide with fear and pleading. For what, Yusuf does not know.

It takes seconds to pop the box fully open; the King had made it strikingly easy, and now Yusuf can see why.

The man inside the box is tightly secured. He would not be able to escape even if he so desperately tried, something the fear in his eyes seems to indicate he had. The man is entirely nude, intricate patterns of rope covering his trembling body. His arms are forced above his head, bent at the elbows behind his neck. His cock lies pink and soft were a thick coil of rope secures itself around his balls, which Yusuf quickly understands links behind his back and to rope around his wrists. A true predicament. A chain of gems decorates his front, linking his nipples together almost in mockery of a necklace. And he is muzzled, perhaps the most dehumanizing addition of all, like he is in danger of biting any of their fingers off, like had had already tried.

It seems the king knows Yusuf’s weaknesses, it seems he had put great thought into this gift, because despite himself, Yusuf ashamedly feels his cock stir.

The man is beautiful. Yusuf had known when he’d seen his eyes, but…his body is lithe, his waist strikingly small compared to the broadness of his shoulders, his thighs thick where they are splayed and forced wide open, tied to his ankles - Val had thought of it all.

His lips - Yusuf finds himself dying to pull away that wretched muzzled and chance a gaze upon his lips, surely as plus and inviting as the rest of him. But he cannot take his chances.

“What is this?” Yusuf demands, as his servants move to remove him from the box entirely.

“An apt gift,” says one of his older subjects, inching himself closer to the bound man.

Another one of his subjects crowds around the bound man as well, ignoring the way he tries, and fails, to flinch away. He forces the man’s head back, further than the ropes seem to, where Yusuf spots an unmistakable symbol brands the skin between his neck and shoulder - one that identified only the holiest of Genoa -

The subjects huffs a laugh. “He is a virgin.”

The throne room erupts in jeers.

“Virgin turned cockwhore,” says another of Yusuf’s subjects, and that elicits laughs. “Highness, I do hope you intend to share.”

“Enough,” Yusuf demands, heart still hammering. “No one is to touch him.”

He turns to his advisor, shaking his head adamantly. “What is this? Does Val take me for a fool? I will not accept this.”

“Highness,” says the advisor, who had remained dutifully at Yusuf’s side even while the others had begun to inspect the gift, “I must caution you what were to happen if you do not.”

Unrest; war; thousands more, dead.

Val was desperate but he was far from pathetic. Though he must know Yusuf is inches away from victory, a refusal of his surrender would only serve to enrage him further; an undesirable outcome due to his violent, unpredictable character.

And what would become of this man? Death, surely. Priests of Genoa were celibate. Those who strayed from that path were put to death, and not mercifully. Regardless of wether or not Yusuf touched him, sending the poor man back would seal his fate.

Here, he could protect him, perhaps; command his subjects not to touch him on pain of death, clothe him, feed him, perhaps enjoy a lay or two.

Val seemed to understand Yusuf’s voracious appetites. He would not have sent this…gift, otherwise.

“Enough,” Yusuf repeats, louder this time, and the subjects retreat.

Yusuf turns to his advisor. “Send word to King Val that his gift has been received and…acknowledged.”

“Highness,” the advisor bows.

The man has not torn his eyes away from Yusuf the entire time, even as he is examined like a piece of meat by the young king’s own subjects. Perhaps he had expected Yusuf to take him then and there, lay his claim before throwing him to the others to do as they pleased. Perhaps it was what Val had expected.

“Unbind him. I want him bathed, clothed, and fed.” Yusuf gazes back at his gift. “And then take him to my quarters.”

YES!!! excited to see how this develops!

Oh wow!! What a promising start!! Can't wait to see what comes next :D

Poster of the first ‘spoils’ fill here

I am LIVING for another interpretation! Love this start! 🔥 Can’t wait to see where it goes!!!

“Highness,” the men standing guard in front of his room bow in show of their loyalty.

Yusuf has no time for pleasantries. He had spent the rest of the day discussing terms of Val’s surrender, on top of fending off the growing interests in the rest of his subjects, unarguably still taken by his gift. It is not as if Yusuf can blame them. A Genoan priest with eyes the color of stormy seas, young and beautiful and untouched no less - under different circumstances, Yusuf would have the man in his bed in a heartbeat.

Yusuf did not consider himself an entirely concupiscent man, but he was not exactly pious, either. He was…adventurous. Curious. And this reputation preceded him - otherwise, Val would have offered jewels or gold, not a plaything.

Now - he wasn’t eager as much as he was anxious. He would not force himself on the man. Nor would he expect him to perform his…duties. Which left him at an impasse, since the man served no other purpose.

Yusuf pushes past the guards into his quarters, where he is greeted with a sight that would excite him in any other situation.

Instead his feels his blood boil as he takes in the gift, clothed as Yusuf had asked in simple white robes, with his hands still forced above his head, behind his neck as Val had originally presented him, muzzle in place.

“I thought I ordered you to unbind him,” Yusuf says, voice shaking.

“Forgive us, your highness,” says one of the guards, and Yusuf squints past him, spots what looks like claw marks on the face of the guard behind him. “He attempted escape. We did not wish to kill without your command.”

Yusuf sighs blearily. Virgin, priest, gift, and somehow, a worthy warrior.

“Very well. Leave us.”

The guards oblige.

Yusuf waits until the door is shut behind him to move towards the gift, both men refusing to drop their gazes. Yusuf kneels in front of him. “If I promise you will no longer be prisoner to this wretched mask, will you promise not to bite me?”

The gift doesn’t speak - no, how could he - and it’s not as if he seems at all willing to grant Yusuf the satisfaction of a nod.

“Very well,” Yusuf says, and though he does not intend to, warns, “perhaps I will let you stand guard like this for the rest of the night while I slumber.”

“Mmmmph,” says the gift, and it sounds like indignation, like protest.

When Yusuf repeats the question, the gift reluctantly nods his head once. And Yusuf sets to work undoing the muzzle.

“What is your name, sweet thing?” Yusuf half demands, half asks, brazenly taking the man’s chin in his hand.

It seems removing the muzzle is of no use. The gift still refuses to speak.

“Your name,” Yusuf says. “I will not ask again. If you do not tell me, I will have to give you my own. As much as ‘sweet thing’ amuses me, I’m not so sure it will do.”

The man’s dagger stare falters. “Nicolo,” he says. “My name is…Nicolo.”

A name as beautiful as his face. Will wonders never cease?

“Nicolo,” Yusuf repeats, feeling the name roll off his tongue. “My name is Yusuf.”

“I know who you are,” Nicolo says lowly, shifting uncomfortably in Yusuf’s hold.

“Of that, I have no doubt,” Yusuf regards, and he releases him. “What have you heard, Nicolo? That I am a savage? An insatiable, lustful beast? Whatever your king has said of me, tell me, which one of us is the reason why you are here?”

Nicolo does not react. It seems to Yusuf he already knows.

“They came in the night,” Nicolo says in a quiet voice. “Forced themselves into our commune. I knew not what they wanted. Only that I could not let them take the children, and so I offered myself in their place. I thought I was to be presented to…the king. To my king.”

Pity overtakes Yusuf. He does not mean to say, “It seems I am your king now.”

Nicolo casts his eyes down in shame. “I…I have not -“

“What? Lain with anyone?” Yusuf finishes for him. “I am well aware. It seems to be why your king seemed so intent on sending you in the first place.”

Nicolo says nothing.

Yusuf slips closer, nimble fingers finding Nicolo’s chin again, forcing his head back albeit gently. “You know as well as I you cannot return home. Even if I do not touch you, they will mark you as sullied. And they will kill you.”

Nicolo’s eyes begin to fill with tears.

“Which is why I will not send you back,” Yusuf quickly asserts. “I will keep you here, under my eye and protection. I will make sure no other touches you. And if you so choose to allow me, and only then, I will lay my claim. ”

Nicolo nods in understanding despite himself, and Yusuf nods along with him.

“I will unbind you now. Escape if you wish, but understand that not all will be as forgiving as I.”

“I won’t escape,” Nicolo says, and it sounds like a declaration to himself more than it seems to be to Yusuf.

Yusuf smiles, eyes gone dark. “Is that so, sweet thing?”

Yusuf moves to undo the ropes. Nicolo’s arms are stiff and numb, because he does not immediately return them to his sides without Yusuf coaxing him to. And then Yusuf helps him to his feet, watching as the sleeve of the robe slips to reveal pale skin underneath.

Yusuf reaches out despite himself, feels Nicolo shudder under the weight of both his gaze and his fingers as he traces the branding on Nicolo’s shoulder. Yusuf huffs. “And I’m supposed to be the barbarian.”

Val would pay for this - if not now, then soon enough. And if not for insulting Yusuf’s intelligence, then certainly for what he has done to Nicolo.

It is then that Yusuf catches a glimpse of the decorative chain that still adorn Nicolo’s nipples. The gems are even more beautiful in the candlelight, and an unwelcome voice in his head tells him to leave it as is.

“A Genoan priest,” Yusuf has to laugh at the absurdity of the situation, and it is then when we realizes his fingers are on the chain now, not exactly pulling. Nicolo is frozen. He seems content to allow Yusuf to move him any which way he wants.

“My mother died of plague,” Nicolo admits, seeming to sense Yusuf’s awe. “And my father could not care for me. I have known no life but the monastery.”

Perhaps it is a trick of the light, perhaps it is wishful thinking, but a growing firmness is unmistakable in the space between Nicolo’s thighs, which only beckons Yusuf to pull on the chain harder. “Not for long.”

Mmmmmmm, this is marvellous!

🔥🔥🔥💯💯💯

More, please!

aaaaaaaaaa!!!! this is fantastic!!! :D

Hot as hell.

Oh fantastic! I hope you end up writing more!

prompt:
https://theoldguardkinkmeme.dreamwidth.org/7393.html?thread=2644705#cmt2644705

Since there's a bit of a nipple kick tonight/today, Nile as a lactating omega at an Alpha Milk Bar and Booker as her favorite customer. She loves his mouth and he loves her taste and they both want more of each other

fill:
https://archiveofourown.org/works/28889403/chapters/70872561
dulce de leche

Nile searches for the words to define what she and Booker are after they are no longer milk bartender and client. An exploration of intimacy, care, and the various shapes they make.

“Is what confuses you that we began with intimacy instead of sexual attraction?” Booker asks. "Because to me, what does it matter as long as it ends with the two of us here, right now?”

If you've ever had a relationship that did not neatly fit into the bounds of romantic, sexual, or platonic, this is for you. 13k of intimacy, domestic daydreams, and falling into a relationship you don't know how to name.

(Nile also calls Booker "little girl," and he calls her "Daddy." I know that might be a selling point for some of y'all XD. But I also know it might squick some of you; if you want more details about this, please see the author's notes. It's not a DD/lg fic.)

Fill for this prompt: https://theoldguardkinkmeme.dreamwidth.org/7005.html?thread=2438493#cmt2438493

I'll definitely clean this up and post it on AO3 once I finish the other 4 parts, but I wanted to at least post this!! OP, if you see this, I hope you like it so far!

_________

Pompeii, Italy, 79 CE:

Dark clouds swirled to envelope the whole sky as the ground underneath her shook again. Andromache looked around in despair, seeing people running without direction. She had convinced so many of them to flee the city—the young man and woman with their three crying children, the woman and her blind father, the hunter with his two dogs, the three wealthy women with their dresses torn, the two middle aged men both limping and leaning on each other—but there were still so many who remained. There were too many people, and Andromache, frustrated, wanted to scream at them and make them all understand why they had to leave.

A three-story apartment nearby collapsed into a heap of rubble with the next tremor of the ground, and Andromache didn’t move in time to avoid being struck by one of the heavy stone bricks...

The brick killed her, and when she revived again, the first thing she saw was the worried face of a young man. He jerked back in surprise as she gasped back to life, and Andromache was glad she was too covered in blood and dust for him to see her injuries heal.

“She’s alive!” the man called over his shoulder, and a second man, a little older and wearing the simple tunic of a slave, came to his side. Both were weary and covered in dust. “Lay back down, just rest a moment,” the first man told her, and Andromache pushed his hand away.

“I have to help them,” she ground out, trying to get up.

“Demetrius, help me!” he said to his companion, and the slave put a hand on her shoulder to keep her still; then to her, “You need to lie down, you’ve been hurt.” There was a pause, and Andromache stayed still to appease them.

Frustrated, she gestured to the people all around them. “If they stay here, they’ll all die.”

“Yes, we know. Quintus and I—we are the only ones of our household left alive,” the slave, Demetrius, said. “It is our plan to escape the city now.”

“It is true,” the other man, Quintus, agreed. Alarmingly close, another building collapsed, leaving a billowing cloud of dust that settled over them. “We should go, now!” Quintus shouted, coughing. “Come with us. Can you walk?”

She had to remind herself that he believed she was still injured. She cursed inwardly, nodded. “I think so.”

Between the two of them, Quintus and Demetrius pulled Andromache to her feet, and Demetrius kept a hand on her arm to steady her. People around them continued to run in the chaos, and the ground under them shook violently again and again. Andromache cursed aloud this time, vehemently but very quietly; she almost couldn’t see where they were going through the dust and the clouds covering the sun, having to trust the pressure of Demetrius’ hand on her arm to direct her. They stumbled a few times, and it seemed to take a long time for them to get out of the city, but eventually they made it to the outskirts, and then to a mountain nearby and away from the majority of the dust and chaos.

“Thank you both, for helping me,” Andromache said as the three of them sat in the grass to rest. “I do regret that we couldn’t help more people, but I am eternally grateful that you helped me.”

“Some of them could not have been persuaded to leave, you know. It was their home, and many of them would have been too stubborn.” Quintus spoke sadly, as if he knew many people with that same mindset.

It had been a long time since Andromache had considered anywhere to be her true home, but she knew Quintus was right. A home, a place that you loved and lived for years and where you had friends and family—that would surely be difficult to leave. The thought of leaving Quynh and Lykon, the people closest to her and who she considered family, and never seeing them again was enough to make her heart hurt, and she thought it must be the same thing.

“I can understand that, I think,” she murmured.

Somehow, it gave Andromache a small amount of peace to know she could never have brought all of Pompeii away from the danger. She had brought some of them out of the city, at least.

She looked from Quintus to Demetrius, who was sitting a few feet away, and back again. “Where will you go now?”

Demetrius moved closer, and Quintus glanced at him, speaking slowly. “I have family in Britain. I think that would be the best place to go.” Demetrius nodded, looking thoughtful.

“I have a few friends there as well. When you get to shore, find The Black Hound inn and tell the owner that Andromache sent you.” Andromache smiled at the two men before standing to continue their journey.

Loved this!! So very hot

Val’s pathetic excuse for a truce falls away almost as quickly and as lazily as he had prepared it. What did he truly think of the young king? That he would have Nicolo, once, twice, throw him to the wolves, and then lay down his arms in satisfaction, his cock spent, his kingdom in flames?

It would be laughable if it weren’t so insulting, and Nicolo seems to think so, too, if his growing inclination towards Yusuf were any indication. Still, they have yet to lie together. Yusuf remained true to his word from their very first night. Where a king’s….playthings were normally sent to their own quarters, fascination with the priest had all but subsided, and Yusuf couldn’t find it in himself to trust anyone and leave Nicolo to be on his own. And it certainly didn’t help to have the priest for company every night. Though they sleep in the same bed, Yusuf stayed true to his word, unwilling to touch the priest. Yet, still… the way he blushes is well on its way to driving Yusuf mad. The deep, penetrating husk of his voice when he calls Yusuf highness certainly doesn’t help, either.

As far as the rest of the court was concerned, Nicolo was by all means Yusuf’s property. A gift as known by court gossipers; a cockwhore to his subjects and allies. Yusuf himself did not know what Nicolo was to him. Paramour felt wrong the way it dissolved in Yusuf’s tongue, and he did not like the way it reminded him that he was still unmarried, against his advisor’s wishes.

An idea that felt almost as foreign as Genoa, the way he always seemed to feel Nicolo’s eyes on him.

“The terrain here is suitable,” Yusuf says one day, in one of his innumerable council meetings. They are mere days away from declaring open warfare once more, and he had called upon his allies to strike Val down before he could even consider doing the same.

“Yes, but what of the citadel?” Says his subject. Famir, if Yusuf is even to remember correctly; the names, as the days, blur into one. “I will not have my men walk into a lion’s den.”

Yusuf wants to kick himself. Of course, why had he not though of that?

“You need not be exposed. There are siege tunnels.”

Nicolo is not necessarily quiet, but even then, his voice rings loud and true. Yusuf turns to gaze at him where he stands trying his best to blend into the plush fabric of a bright curtain.

Yusuf had taken to bringing Nicolo along to his various council meetings. He liked having Nicolo under his watch, and Nicolo was still a stranger to all this — he could only trust Yusuf, and seemed to be comfortable to follow the young king around like one of his servants. If anything, it served them both. Yusuf could make sure nobody touched Nicolo, and Nicolo in turn felt safe.

Until now.

Famir is clearly amused. “Siege tunnels, you say?”

“Yes,” Nicolo confirms. “Siege tunnels. Under the citadel.”

“And how would a...priest know of siege tunnels?”

For the first time in days, Nicolo does not cast his eyes down in shame. “It is how I-“ he licks his lips. “Arrived.”

Famir bursts into laughter. Yusuf doesn’t understand what seems to be so funny, and is dismayed at the smirks that surround them.

“Am I to take the word of a cockwhore?”

“I have a name,” Nicolo says, unyielding.

“So does my king,” says Famir. “Yet ‘highness’ seems to suit him better, does it not? Same goes for you, cockwh-“

“Speak one more word, and it will be the last,” Yusuf warns. And, oh, fuck, all eyes are on him now.

“Highness,” Famir huffs, almost like Yusuf is joking and he is just playing along. “I meant no disrespect to you. I was not under the impression your gift could offer counsel. Let alone speak.”

Several other of his subjects laugh.

“Yes,” agrees one of them. “We beseech you, highness. Perhaps you need another to teach him his place.”

“Would you like to join him?” Yusuf instead asks.

The room falls silent as Famir’s smile quickly evaporates. As do the rest of theirs.

“I apologize,” Nicolo says, later that night. He had retreated to Yusuf’s quarters with company while the king had spent the rest of his evening discussing plans of their oncoming siege, the rest of his subjects seeming to walk on eggshells in his presence. “It was…not my place to speak.”

Yusuf stops himself from where he had been in the middle of undressing, desperate for bed.

“No,” Yusuf echoes, “it wasn’t. But nor was it his.”

Yusuf stops himself from taking off the rest of his shirt. He turns to Nicolo, gaze unwavering. “There is something you need to understand, Nicolo. I may not regard you as such, but due to the circumstances of your arrival…It does not matter what I may think, others might regard you as a—“

“Cockwhore,” Nicolo finishes, and Yusuf winces at the word. “It is just a word, your highness. And one I’m certain you’re accustomed to by now.” He moves forward, placing his hands tentatively on Yusuf’s chest.

“It is not like you have never had one in your bed before.” This is the most candidly Nicolo has spoken in days. Yet somehow, it does not surprise Yusuf. He had always known Nicolo had a fire within him.

“I have,” Yusuf admits. “But never a virgin. And not one as beautiful as you.”

There it is, that furious pink. Only now it seems to reach the tips of Nicolo’s ears. He ignores it as he sets to work undoing the rest of Yusuf’s front.

Brazenly, Yusuf takes his chin in his hand as he had many nights ago, tilts his head up so that their gazes are forced to meet. “May I?”

Nicolo understands. And he nods, tentatively, like he can longer deny himself but is different to hide it. “Your highness -“

Yusuf presses a kiss to his lips, careful, like he is exploring. Nicolo follows his lead, opens his mouth to Yusuf surprisingly easy and takes him in with ease.

Yusuf pulls away to chance a glance. “Is that what you thought it would be?”

Nicolo gulps. “I never imagined a king.”

Yusuf smiles warmly and goes in for another kiss. Nicolo’s arms waver awkwardly, twitching in place where they are trapped between him and Yusuf’s front.

“I wish to lie with you,” Yusuf says before he can stop himself, and he reaches around to splay wide hands over Nicolo’s buttocks, reveling in the way Nicolo whimpers in pleasure.

“Your highness,” Nicolo breathes, but he does little to move, trusting only Yusuf to take the lead. Yusuf beckons Nicolo up, moves his hands right under his thighs to lift him so that Nicolo has no choice but to wrap his arms around Yusuf’s neck for support. “Oh, oh Yusuf…”

“Nicolo,” Yusuf says in response, “sweet, sweet Nicolo….”

He does not remember making it to the bed with Nicolo like this below him, but somehow they do, and Nicolo is moaning despite himself underneath him, breathing deep and heavy into their kisses.

Yusuf pulls away to stare down at him. He is in only a nightgown, while Yusuf is still in his day clothes. To think of Nicolo naked and pliant while he remained clothed - oh, it makes his head swim.

“Do you wish for this?” Yusuf asks. “Do you want me, Nicolo?”

Nicolo nods in a way that has Yusuf in true disbelief for the first time in days that he is a priest, that is at all a virgin. Yusuf gets to work nonetheless, moving to remove Nicolo’s shirt, so that he is naked in mere moments.

“You speak of your virtue as if we are a leper,” Yusuf remarks, staring down at his body. “When it only makes me want you more.”

Nicolo shudders where he is locked in place, waiting for Yusuf’s command to move as if they were on a battlefield. Yusuf bends down to kiss him where he is branded, the skin between his shoulder and his neck.

“What do you want?” Yusuf mouths against him.

“I-“ Nicolo starts, then cuts himself off with a sharp inhale as Yusuf bites and then sucks a mark. “I - I -“

“You,” Yusuf laughs, but he doesn’t stop. “Yes, you, sweet thing. What do you long for?”

“You,” Nicolo echoes. “You, your highness. Anything you need of me.”

Yusuf had no preference on what he wished to be called in bed. If anything, he’d known he’d done his job if his companion was left incapable of speech. But even now, even then…the way ‘your highness’ seems to come to Nicolo, and so naturally, too. He thinks he will keep things this way.

“Sweet thing,” Yusuf says again, and then he lifts himself up so that his knees entrap Nicolo. “I’ve a confession to make.”

“I am no longer a priest,” Nicolo deadpans, and okay, Yusuf thinks, he is capable of humor.

Ignoring the sentiment, Yusuf continues, “I have often found myself…in an effort to recreate the circumstances of our first meeting.” He watches the way Nicolo’s eyes go dark as he traces his brow bone. “But I do not wish to harm you.”

“You won’t,” Nicolo shakes his head. “I know you won’t.”

At that, Yusuf bends down. “How can you be so sure?”

Now, Nicolo meets him halfway, a chaste kiss to the corner of Yusuf’s mouth. “I can’t be.”

Now it is Yusuf’s eyes who go dark. “You will never cease to amaze me.” Then he sets to work, undoing his belt in a way that has Nicolo tensing, half in fear, half anticipation.

“Have you ever touched yourself?” Yusuf wonders as if he were asking the time of the day. A quiet shake of the head is his only response. Yusuf laughs darkly. “You are beautiful, wondrous man, Nicolo. But you are only a man nonetheless. Hands,” he commands, and Nicolo scrambles to obey.

“You may seek to chase your own pleasure. And in time, you will; but tonight, you will take what I give you.”

Nicolo presents Yusuf his wrists, the sensitive skin around them even paler than the rest of the priest where he had been bound days, weeks ago now. How Yusuf wished to paint them red. He wastes no time looping his belt around in a tie he knew from personal experience would be difficult to evade.

He moves Nicolo’s hands above his head. “Just one more thing,” Yusuf says, and moves to the bedside, where he quickly fumbles for the chain. Nicolo’s eyes go wide. Perhaps he thought Yusuf had discarded it.

“I couldn’t help myself,” Yusuf says in place of an actual explanation, and sets to work decorating his Nicolo, linking the chain to his nipples and across his chest. Nicolo hisses as he does so, of course he does; it has been weeks.

Yusuf doesn’t apologize. Just watches Nicolo as he tugs on the chain once more, watches the way it makes him crumble.

“There, there, sweet thing,” Yusuf growls, dipping down to catch a nipple between his teeth. It tastes of cold metal. Nicolo’s cock is now hard and leaking where it is pressed to Yusuf’s inner thigh. He begins to grind his hips overtly against Yusuf’s front. Yusuf pulls away.

“If you move, I will stop,” Yusuf promptly explains.

“I-“ Nicolo starts again, licking his lips. “I cannot promise that I will be quiet.”

Yusuf flashes him a wicked smile. “I want them to hear.”

Perhaps it is just his imagination, but Yusuf thinks he feels Nicolo’s legs spread wider. Good. He is learning.

“There are so many things I can teach you,” Yusuf says, and he is suddenly lying at Nicolo’s side, head resting in one of his hands, a long leg lazily thrown between Nicolo’s thighs. “How to suck my cock,” he wonders aloud as he traces the side of Nicolo’s face, feeling the way he shudders under feather light touches, and then he leisurely slips two fingers into Nicolo’s willing, pliant mouth. Nicolo sucks obediently, though Yusuf had not given him the command to do so.

When they are wet enough, Yusuf slides his fingers down, actively avoiding Nicolo’s red hard cock to instead press them against his taint. Nicolo exclaims.

“Or perhaps how to take my fingers,” Yusuf says through an amused laugh, circling Nicolo’s entrance. “Which do you prefer, sweet thing?”

“Y-your highness,” Nicolo says, and Yusuf chances a glance at his hands, and they are clasped, and he wonders a little too long if it is in prayer. “Your highness…”

It is not an answer, but it good enough.

The oil is ready by Yusuf’s bedside. Nicolo watches in awe as Yusuf reaches for it. “I won’t hurt you,” Yusuf explains, “and I don’t wish to. I will make you loose enough for me until you are wide and open, begging for relief, begging for my fingers, for my hand, for my cock.”

Nicolo moans in anticipation. “H-highness…”

“Is that what you want, sweet thing?” Yusuf continues, coating his fingers generously before circling Nicolo’s rim once more. He pushes a finger in. “So tight. But not for long. I will fill you up until you beg me to stop, until you are dripping with me. Have you ever imagined being so full? I know, sweet thing. I know you have.”

Nicolo says nothing. He is clearly enjoying this too much. Sweat coats his forehead and his hair is sticking to his skin. Yusuf’s free arm now pillows his head and pins his arms down at the same time. A second finger slips in. Yusuf feels the way Nicolo clenches around him. It only serves to make him push deeper.

“I could just spend the whole night next to you, watching you suck in my fingers.”

Instead, Yusuf slips in a third finger, drawing out a lewd moan from Nicolo. His hips grind towards nothing. Yusuf watches in amusement, eyes gone somehow darker. And then he reaches across Nicolo’s chest with his free hand, watches him come apart fully as he tugs, not at all lightly, on the chain.

Nicolo lets out a cry. He buries his head in the crook of Yusuf’s arm, as if he was trying to hide.

“Look at you, sweet thing. I haven’t even touched your poor cock.”

Yusuf tugs once more, watching in awe as the priest loses more and more control. Suddenly, and almost slowly, his cock begins to spill; thick, pearly white stripes begin to splatter onto his stomach, and it’s more beautiful than anything, than the starry sky above them, than the gems that decorate his chest.

Yusuf does not stop. He just circles his arm around Nicolo to grip at his cock, beckon him to continue, and it’s too much for Nicolo, almost too satisfying. He yells in half-protest, half-beckoning. But it is not like Yusuf can help himself. This is Nicolo’s first time and he wants him to commit every moment to memory, for Yusuf to lay claim to that fortress in his mind.

When Nicolo comes down, Yusuf bends to meet his lips. Nicolo opens them pliantly, takes all of Yusuf in. “Highness….”

“Yes?” Yusuf asks between kisses.

Nicolo pulls away. He looks as if he wants to cover his eyes before remembering Yusuf had ordered him not to move his hands, tied as they still are above his head. “You - you did not…”

Yusuf looks down in faux confusion. He catches the way Nicolo’s eyes flicker down to his own cock, where it lies hard and untouched, outlined by fabric. “No, I have not. Not yet. Shall I? Hm?” He pulls his fingers away from Nicolo’s puckered entrance, watches the way Nicolo frowns at the sudden release. “Fill you up?”

Nicolo will have to learn to use his words. He seems frozen in place, unable to say what he wants. Instead, he nods, eyes like fire.

Yusuf’s eyes go to spot next to the bed, a wall so spacious and unassuming where he’d had many before. It is hard to imagine Nicolo ever looking undesirable, but to have him pinned in place, speared on Yusuf’s cock…

Filler here! This is obviously (4/?) and I goofed 🤦‍♀️ So please ignore that. Anyway I am planning to clean this up and put it on ao3 eventually so please have patience!

Omg so hot 🔥

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Fills Post #2

FILL: Joe/Nicky - Vampires

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Re: Fill: joe/nicky, sex slave nicky and very confused joe (2/?)

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Re: Fill: joe/nicky, sex slave nicky and very confused joe (3/?)