theoldguardkinkmeme | Fills Post #2

Fills Post #2

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This is so creepy! I love it. The fairy tale quality of turning down the various gifts before accepting one, the uncanny valley of the queen and her daughter, and of course, the pomegranates! I love this so much.

Awww, this is so good and sweetly angsty! Yay!

Oh no!! Poor Nicky. I am so incredibly invested in this.

Oh, this is incredibly hot!!

swashbuckling! :DD

people have asked me when/if I'm gonna do grad school, and after reading this i have my answer on what would convince me to do so. ~~Joe~~

also I know the prompt is sugar daddy but I still am really delighted by the daddy kink >D

omgggg Joe offering to do Christmas with Nicky! Nicky presumably going to have a great time even though this is his first Christmas without his family!

and the art opening!! Nicky tied up as art!! Just when I think this fic can't get even better.

and of course, hotttt

I love the hot kinkiness of all of this exploration and daddy kink and the feels. I cannot wait for more.

They make good time to Malta. After some discussion, the crew of the other ship are told they will wait to see if their prisoner lives or dies; they may be needed to bear him back whence he came. There are one or two other prisoners as well, but they are well if sullen, and can be confined easily enough. Malta will be Nicolò’s dowry when he weds – if he weds, at this point – but for the moment it is in Genoan hands.

“So,” he says to Tayyib. “What will you do now?”

“I think I am going to have to return to my family,” Tayyib says, rubbing his beard, “and accept the consequences.”

“Are you not afraid they will push the marriage regardless? I do not think he is like to die at this stage, although things could still turn sour.”

Aziz is feverish but not fading. Tayyib had confided, just before they docked in Malta, that he is a minor noble of the Fatimid court. Nicolò can probably ransom him back there without too much loss of face for anybody involved. He could just send him, but he is not inclined to be that generous about it. He supposes Tayyib must be from there as well, and is probably reluctant to say so unless Nicolò decides to ransom him as well. Marco had mused it would be fair recompense for their troubles, but he was joking. Mostly.

“I...may have given you the wrong impression,” says Tayyib, studying Nicolò as if looking for something he is not finding. “My family did not support the marriage; it was my idea. I thought he was a better person than he turned out to be. He wanted – his family and mine have differences, and he thought I would support him against them, since I was willing to disregard them in the matter of my marriage. I hoped that maybe I could reason with him, but what happened when he found us at sea...no. It was treacherous, and there is no reasoning with him. I feel like a fool.”

“Well, we were lying to him,” Nicolò points out. “You were very much aboard the ship.”

“Because I asked you to.”

“I don’t think that was the wrong decision, not that that is any comfort, I am sure.” Nicolò is remembering Aziz referring to Tayyib as 'something that belonged to him'.

“Do not mistake me,” Tayyib says. “I am not grieving him, exactly, though I do not hope for his death. I am grieving what I believed was between us.”

“I understand,” Nicolò says, and pats him comfortingly on the arm; Tayyib smiles hesitantly. Then his smile fades.

“I think you sympathise with him more than you let on. You have a reluctant husband-to-be of your own.”

“I do not fault him for chasing after you,” Nicolò says, slowly, “but some of what he said, and of course attacking us; I do fault that. And in the end, I have never laid eyes on my prince. If he was willing to risk death to avoid me, having had the opportunity to reject me as I am and not the idea of me, I would hope his family and mine could come to some other agreement.”

“You sound upset, but if it was the idea of you only, it cannot have been personal.”

“You speak sense,” Nicolò sighs, “but, I will confess, that does not stop it feeling personal. A little.”

“No, I do see that,” Tayyib says, but the corners of his eyes are crinkling; Nicolò decides to let himself see the funny side.

“Yes, I am more sorely done by than anyone else on the shores of this sea, I am sure you agree,” he says, grinning. “In the mean time, let us see if we can set you on your course home. Ships are in and out of this harbour all the time; it should be no trouble.”

But the skies darken that afternoon; a series of summer storms is coming through.

“You will stay with us, of course,” Nicolò says. “Until the weather clears and a ship going to the correct destination arrives. The portmaster will tell us as soon as that happens, Nile has already spoken with him.”

“You know what’s going to happen,” says Marco, later. “Your prince is going to sail in, and the first thing he will see is that you’ve installed this man in the very castle you and he are supposed to rule from – ”

“His life has been turned upside down in the space of a week, Marco!” says Nicolò. “There is nothing of that sort between us.”

It’s absolutely true. It remains true up until three days later, when word comes via Nile that a ship from Tunis, which will be returning to its port after this, is expected in the next day.

“That will do,” Tayyib says, when Nicolò tells him of the ship. “I can make my way from there.”

“Are you sure?” Nicolò asks him. “You are welcome to stay until there is something direct –”

“Are you trying to keep me here?”

“No, no,” Nicolò laughs. “But your company has been – enjoyable.”

“Aside from when it almost got you killed.”

Nicolò looks into Tayyib’s kind brown eyes and says “Worth it all the same,” instead of literally any of the other things he could have said, and has to follow it up hastily with “But – I have other obligations – as I know you are aware. So I would not wish to – it is only that I would have liked to know you better.”

“Your reluctant prince,” says Tayyib. “I am aware.”

“He probably does think I’m going to try the same sort of thing,” Nicolò grouses. “He could have at least deigned -” He shakes his head. “And I am complaining again, and should not be. Please ignore me.”

“Nicolò,” Tayyib says, in a strangled voice, and kisses him.

Nicolò is not at all expecting this, as welcome as it is. Tayyib kisses him at first gently, and then when Nicolò leans into it, cups the back of his head with one hand and pulls Nicolò to him with the other on the curve of his lower back. Nicolò hasn’t kissed someone like this for months. Possibly years. Possibly ever.

“I don’t have to leave until tomorrow,” Tayyib whispers against his mouth. “And I will leave. But first, can I –”

“Yes,” Nicolò says at once. “Whatever you’re about to say. Yes.”

“That’s a very dangerous offer.”

Nicolò kisses him this time, letting his hands roam. “A risk I am willing to take.”

He shouldn’t, he shouldn’t, but – this once, he wants something for himself, a good memory to take into whatever this dutiful marriage is going to give him, if it happens.

He isn’t under any false impression that Tayyib is doing this purely for the sake of attraction to him, either. He has been through a great deal recently, and this is certainly one way to be distracted from your thoughts for a time. Nicolò is happy to take this for what it is, in the moment it is possible.

Tayyib sucks bruises along his collarbone, holds Nicolò down with the weight of his body while he teases Nicolò with his hand, laughing when Nicolò swears. It’s the kind of bedding that makes Nicolò laugh, too, when Tayyib finally brings him over the edge. He gets his revenge with his mouth and his hands and a great deal of patience. There are probably a dozen better things he could have spent the afternoon doing, but looking at Tayyib after, his brow smooth and a small smile on his lips as he half-dozes, Nicolò can’t think of any of them. He will hold this memory to himself for as long as he can.

(Filler here!) I'm so glad you liked it!

(Filler here!) I hope you liked it! Thanks for reading!

Marco is really shining in this fic, in a very face-palm inducing kind of way. Also, I couldn't help but notice that Nicolò's family seems healthier with his father dead early...

The last paragraphs - Nicolò taking one thing for himself and planning to cherish the memory, thinking that "Tayyib"is using him as a rebound and being fine with that- were heart wrenching. I'm all teary eyed.

I feel I'm missing a couple of steps in between, but it's probably just me. Great work!

Fingers crossed I’m doing this right...
This prompt:

https://theoldguardkinkmeme.dreamwidth.org/1106.html?thread=183890#cmt183890

Filled (or tried to) here:
https://archiveofourown.org/works/27390718

A long final update! I'll be posting a version with 50% fewer typos to AO3 later today/tomorrow.

_________________________________________________________________________________

On the first semi-warm day of the year, they picnic in Central Park. While the whole affair was Joe’s idea, ensuring they had edible food fell to Nicky.

It’s a little absurd, to wear a parka and shiver on the ground while eating charcuterie, but Joe keeps him close and kisses his cold lips so Nicky bears it with dignity.

“Well, the good news is we have the park to ourselves,” he says, trying not to laugh.

Joe grins. “Exactly. You gotta beat the crowds. Get a more intimate setting.”

“If you’re implying you want to fuck out here, that will be a no from me.”

“Come on, baby, haven’t you heard about huddling for warmth? One coat under us, one coat over us.”

“And if I get frostbite on my cock?”

“I’ll suck it off.”

Nicky wrinkles his nose. “That’s not how that works.”

Joe laughs and kisses him again. Nicky snakes a cold hand under his collar and Joe pulls away with a squeak.

“I actually do love this time of year,” Joe says after they finish laughing.

Nicky looks around at all the dead trees and clumps of dirty, half-melted snow. “Why?”

“It’s the dark before the dawn. Everyone’s so sad and sick of winter but spring is right around the corner. It’s like the last mile of a marathon. You made it this far and you’re almost to the good part.”

“You’re ridiculous.”

Joe smiles, eyes crinkling, and pushes himself to his feet. “All right, let’s go before your heart gets any colder, ice king.” He holds out his hand.

Laughing, Nicky takes it.

They warm up together in the shower when they get home, then Joe ties Nicky’s wrists to a chair and comes on his face before teasing him with his mouth.

Joe’s tongue is the only thing he can focus on until he finally comes, at which point the thought he’s been actively repressing all day will no longer be ignored.

Spring is almost here. Spring means the end of the school year. The end of the school year means the end of Joe. Because Joe is not his boyfriend, he’s his benefactor. They have a business relationship, not a romance.

He screws his eyes shut while Joe wipes off his face.

“Nicky? You all right?”

“Just some come in my eye,” he manages.

“Shit, I’m sorry, baby. You should have told me.”

“It’s okay, it, ah, it wasn’t bothering me before.” He collects himself and opens his eyes to see Joe standing over him, face full of concern.

There’s no longer any point in denying it, he thinks helplessly. He’s in love with this man.

———

Nicky’s finished the bulk of his thesis, but midterms have him in a foul mood, so Joe suggests a game to distract him. Every morning he fucks Nicky, then plugs him before sending him off to teach his class, still half-hard with Joe’s come held inside him.

By Friday morning, Nicky is wild-eyed and desperate.

“Joe, please. I can’t do another day,” he cries as Joe presses the plug in.

Joe kisses his cheek. “Yes you can, baby. You’re so close. Think how good it’ll feel tonight.”

Nicky pulls at his own hair. “Please, daddy.”

He looks so wrecked that Joe is tempted to give him what he’s asking for. “You know the rules, Nicky,” he reminds him.

Nicky sobs, but he still hasn’t used their safeword.

“Come on,” Joe says, “you’ll be late.” He helps Nicky off the bed and into his clothes. Nicky is pliant, but he looks at Joe like he wants to scratch his eyes out.

“Six hours,” Joe tells him, and sends him on his way.

He’s distracted all day. He can’t stop thinking about Nicky—how hot he was when he was begging, how angry he looked when Joe denied him. The thought that Nicky might actually be mad at him is unbearable.

He bolts up from the couch when he hears the door open. “Hey,” he says.

Nicky kicks off his shoes and heads to the kitchen without acknowledging him.

Joe corners him against the refrigerator. “Hey,” he repeats, this time more urgently.

Nicky’s jaw clenches. He won’t meet Joe’s eyes.

“What’s wrong? Are you just worked up?” He rubs at Nicky’s arm, but Nicky pulls out of his grasp and stalks into the living room, putting the couch between them.

“Nicky, come on, you can’t give me the silent treatment right now. Are you pissed about this morning, or did something happen?”

Nicky crosses his arms and looks away.

Joe’s at a loss. He doesn’t know what Nicky wants. Unless—unless he does.

“Or,” he says slowly, “are you just acting out?”

Nicky makes a pained noise then.

Slowly, Joe moves around the couch and takes Nicky’s wrists. “Look at me.”

Nicky does. His pupils are like black holes, but the set of his jaw is still defiant.

“I’m going to take you to bed and teach you a lesson. And if you’re good, then you’ll get to come.”

He gives Nicky’s wrists a quick squeeze—not to hurt, just to get his attention. “Okay?” he presses.

“Fine,” Nicky huffs, and Joe supposes that will have to do.

In the bedroom, Joe strips Nicky and bends him over the bed. He takes off his own belt and folds it in half.

He gives Nicky’s plug a tap. Nicky squeals.

“You’re getting five,” Joe tells him. “I want to hear you apologize after each one.”

He doesn’t wait for confirmation, just gives Nicky his first hit and relishes the way he twitches. He’s afraid Nicky’s going to keep disobeying, but then:

“I’m sorry.” It’s quiet, but it’ll do.

“Good.” Another smack.

“I’m sorry.”

“I know, baby.” Again.

Nicky’s shaking a little and his breath is coming in shallow pants. “I’m sorry, Joe.”

“I know you are. You’re doing so good. Just two more. You can do two more, right?”

Nicky nods. “Yes.”

He lands another hit. Nicky claws at the sheets.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry.”

“Last one,” Joe says, and gives it to him.

“I’m sorry, daddy,” Nicky says, voice thick.

“Shhh, it’s okay, baby.” Joe lets the belt fall to the floor and helps Nicky crawl up on the bed. He cups Nicky’s face to kiss him. “I’m gonna make you feel so good now, okay?”

“Please, please, please,” Nicky slurs. His eyes are glassy.

Joe works the plug out, careful not to tease him. He lubes up his cock and fingers some into Nicky as well, since his come’s mostly dried and tacky.

He slides in and wastes no time finding Nicky’s prostate. He hits it with every thrust, determined to make this perfect for Nicky, who is moaning and mumbling nonsense into the bed.

He shouts when Joe gets a hand around his cock.

“Joe, Joe, Joe.” Nicky writhes like he’s gone feral. It’s fucking hot. Joe’s grateful for the consistent orgasms he’s been having, otherwise he wouldn’t be able to make this last.

“You’re always so good, Nicky, fuck, so good for me.”

Nicky chokes out a sob as he thrashes. “Joe…”

He’s wriggling so furiously that Joe has to tighten his grip. He wraps an arm around Nicky’s chest, holding him close. It has the added benefit of deepening the angle.

Nicky cries out again.

“You’re perfect, baby,” Joe tells him, and fucks him harder, still tugging at his cock. He’s a little surprised Nicky’s lasted this long, but maybe this was just an extension of his funky mood—

“Baklava,” Nicky gasps. “Baklava—”

It’s like Joe’s brain short circuits. Does not compute. He’s frozen for a moment, and then he gets his shit together.

“Okay, okay, Nicky, I’m gonna pull out—” And he does, as quickly and carefully as he can manage.

His instinct is to touch, but he takes a step back from the bed.

Nicky’s still facedown, ass up. He’s trembling. His hole is puffy and red, something Joe usually finds unbearably hot, but now it just makes him feel like a monster.

“Nicky,” he says helplessly.

Slowly, Nicky pushes himself to sit up on the bed. His face is pale, not flushed like Joe expected. His eyes are shining but not red like Joe had feared. He looks as confused as Joe feels.

“Can—can I get you anything?”

Nicky shakes his head.

“Can…can I touch you?”

“I…yes, okay.”

Joe wants to gather him in his arms and hold him all night, but Nicky hadn’t sounded especially enthused at the idea of Joe touching him. So he settles for sitting next to Nicky and rubbing his back.

“I’m sorry,” Nicky says suddenly, not looking at him.

“What? Nicky, no, don’t be sorry. I don’t—I don’t know what happened, but you don’t need to apologize for wanting to stop.”

Nicky nods once.

“Nicky, can you…can you tell me what happened? What I did?” He swallows. “I don’t want to hurt you, or do anything you don’t like.”

Nicky remains quiet.

“Please?” Joe asks, voice small.

Finally Nicky turns to meet his eyes, just for a brief moment before he looks back down. “I don’t really feel like talking about it tonight,” he says finally.

“Nicky, we have to—”

“I know,” Nicky says, a little more firmly. “We will. I promise. Just, tomorrow, okay?”

No, Joe thinks. Absolutely not.

“Okay,” he says.

Nicky stands up. “I think I’m going to sleep in my room tonight.”

Joe wants to scream. Nicky has yet to actually use his bedroom for anything but storage and studying. They even slept together the week Joe had a cold.

“Okay,” he says again, forcing a smile. “Night.”

“Night,” Nicky says, and leaves.

Joe buries his head in his pillow and cries.

———

Nicky lays awake all night in the unfamiliar bed, amazed at how badly he’s managed to fuck things up.

He has no choice. He’s going to have to leave.

Because if he stays, he’ll owe Joe an answer as to what happened. And he can’t think of anything to tell him but the truth, which is “I safeworded because I’m madly in love with you, and you were fucking me so good and the thought that I couldn’t have this forever destroyed me.”

He feels sick to his stomach. He’d pack up his things, but half of them are scattered around other parts of the house. He’ll have to do that after they have their messy pseudo-breakup.

He stares at the ceiling until he hears Joe moving around. Nicky finds him in the kitchen, the coffee already started.

Joe’s smile is strained. “Hey, morning.”

Nicky is going to throw up. “Hi,” he manages.

Joe pours a cup of coffee and tries to hand it to him. Nicky’s paralyzed.

“I’m leaving,” he blurts.

Joe stares, mug still outstretched.

“I know we—we had an agreement,” Nicky plows on. “But. I need to terminate it.”

Joe sets the mug on the counter and frowns at him. “I don’t understand,” he says finally.

Nicky’s heart is in his chest. “I want out.”

Now Joe’s eyes are wide, sad and hurt. Nicky hasn’t felt this way since he came out to his parents.

“You want to…to end this early?” Joe asks.

Nick nods.

“Why?”

Because it’s not working, Nicky thinks. Because I need to move on. Because you deserve better.

“Because I don’t want to end this at all,” he says.

Joe looks more shocked than ever. Nicky closes his eyes.

“Nicky,” Joe says after a long moment. “Nicky. Look at me, please.”

He does. Joe’s eyes are shining.

“I love you,” Joe says. “You’re the smartest, funniest, sexiest, most interesting person I’ve ever met. I think I’ve felt it since our first date. I’ve known it since my opening. I’ll pay for you to get twenty doctoral degrees and we can call it whatever you want, but Nicky, I want to be your everything.”

Nicky is speechless, so he kisses him. He fists one hand in Joe’s shirt and the other in his curls and puts everything into the kiss to keep himself from crying.

“I love you, too,” he says when they break apart. “You are my everything.”

Joe smiles and it’s like sunlight. Then his face turns serious as he asks, “Is this what last was about?”

Nicky shuts his eyes and nods, sighing. “Yes. I, it was so good, and I started thinking about how soon I wouldn’t have it—wouldn’t have you—anymore, and I spiraled.”

“You’ll always have me,” Joe tells him. “As long as you want.” He nuzzles Nicky’s nose.

Nicky’s too relieved to stop himself from teasing. “Even when I’m no longer young and beautiful?”

Joe laughs and grabs his ass. “You’ll always be beautiful to me, baby.”

He winks, and Nicky kisses him again.

Wow... This is AMAZING! The perfect balance of pining, angst, sex and romance! ❤️

💯💯💯🔥🔥🔥 TY FOR WRITING THIS everything is just hot and perfect

Thank you! Loved it!

OP here: THANK YOU! This was just perfect, and I loved every word :D

https://theoldguardkinkmeme.dreamwidth.org/6403.html?thread=2334211#cmt2334211

Dear meme, I've been craving a feel-good fic where Joe loves being taken care of and spoiled and Nicky loves doing just that. It could be a 5 times fic, or for a special day, or just for no reason at all. His favorite fancy food, a vacation somewhere he really loves, gifts and compliments, his favorite sexy thing to do, if you wanna take it that way. Loved, happy, well cared-for Joe is an absolute wonder and Nicky takes genuine pleasure and pride in making that happen.

______________________________________________

5 times Nicky spoils Joe and one time he returns the favor

1.
Joe’s never been a morning person. He hated to have to get up early and he never understood how Nicky could leave the bed voluntarily, without necessity, before six in the morning.

As long as he knew him - and in his case it was a very long time - Nicky got up early and went out for a jog. And when he was back he usually made breakfast for them.

Joe yawned and stretched his arms over himself. He looked at the alarm clock beside the bed. 9 a.m. Still pretty early but he couldn’t stay here the whole day. Of course the bed beside him was empty and he hadn’t expected anything else. But just when he sat up he heard the door to the bedroom and clattering of crockery.

“Buon giorno, amore mio,” a smiling Nicky said, carrying a tray.

“Buon giorno,” Joe said, involuntarily switching into Italian, too.

Nicky carried the tray to the bed, shooed him over and sat down beside him. He placed the tray on his lap and leaned over to kiss Joe gently on his cheek.

“Caffè?” Nicky asked but didn’t wait for an answer, he just took one of the two mugs with cappuccino and handed it to Joe.

“Grazie mille, amore,” Joe said and took a small sip while Nicky shoved a plate over to him.

“I made cornetti alla crema,” he said and pointed at a plate with said deliciously smelling pastries. They were still a little warm Joe realized when he took one.

“You made cornetti? For me?”

“No, for the local fire department. Of course I made them for you,” Nicky quipped. Joe knew that Nicky always made them from scratch and it was a lot of work. But they were awesome and Joe loved them.

“You’re spoiling me,” Joe groaned when he took the first bite. They tasted awesome, as usual. Buttery, flaky and the custard inside was sweet and simply perfect.

“Only the best for you,” Nicky smiled and watched Joe eating his pastry.

“Ti amo, habibi,” Joe said and leaned over to kiss Nicky.

“Ti amo.”

I too agree that Joe deserved to be spoiled!!!

Perfect ending is perfect 🤩

oh yesss, Joe deserves to be spoiled! i love this already.

https://archiveofourown.org/works/27492586/chapters/67224694

I agree with the person above, Nicolo's family seems to be better without the father and this time I kinda like Marco.
They have been really discreet with their courtship (? and I really want to know how it ends, thanks for such an amazing work!

The ship that arrives the next day has not only come from Tunis, but carries the prince consort and the eldest princess; under these circumstances Tayyib will have to wait, as a royal ship is hardly likely to offer passage to a stranger. Nicolò scrutinizes this thought for his own bias, of wanting Tayyib to stay another day or two. He finds it probably correct, regardless.

The prince, it emerges, has still not been found. The prince consort looks weary, and worried.

“Under the circumstances,” he says, “the queen would like to offer you the hand of our eldest daughter, Noor. Of course, you will have to send word back to Genoa, or even return there, but we wanted to give you the opportunity to know each other.”

Princess Noor is affecting a docile expression, but Nicolò can feel her studying him quite critically, and with some wariness.

“We should speak further of this, if you are willing to accept my hospitality here,” he says, reflecting that now, after all, Marco has turned out to be exactly right; here is a prospective bride for him, and who does he have in the castle? A lover, even if only a lover of one night. He is going to have to handle this very carefully.

He is not given the chance. Less than an hour after they return, just as he has sat down with the prince consort to discuss what will happen next, Marco appears and insists that he has urgent news.

“Well, go on,” Nicolò says.

“No, you have to come,” Marco says, and drags him away. “The princess has found Tayyib and now they’re arguing –”

“About what?”

“I don’t know, I don’t speak the language at all! But I did warn you –”

“You can say I told you so later,” Nicolò retorts, but as they stride into the main courtyard, they aren’t confronted with an argument; the princess is hugging Tayyib as if he were a relative.

“I can’t believe you!” she is saying. “We thought you might be dead! Or – or anything! We didn’t know!”

“Well, I’m not,” Tayyib says, sounding guilty. He spots Nicolò, and freezes, like someone who has seen his own doom.

“This is...my lady,” Nicolò says to Noor, “do you know this man?”

“Do I know him?” She wheels on Nicolò. “Why did you not say that my brother was here all along?”

“Your what?”

“My brother,” she repeats. “Yusuf.”

“Sometimes called al-Tayyib,” says – Prince Yusuf, wincing. When Nicolò glances at Marco to see if he’s hearing this as well, Marco has his face scrunched up, like he can’t put all the pieces together. Of course; he doesn’t know what anybody is saying. No help there, then.

“Oh!” Noor puts a hand to her mouth. “Yusuf, were you hiding from him? Here? Were you trying to be clever?”

“I haven’t done anything clever for days now,” says Yusuf. “Believe me.” Then he shakes his head. “Well, refusing to start a rebellion against our mother, that was intelligent at least, but if I had been clever I would not have been in the position of having to.”

Nicolò is trying to think of something clever to say himself, but he has nothing. Every event of the last week is unspooling in his head, with a very different complexion.

“I – you must come with me,” he manages, and takes Tayyib, no, Yusuf, by the hand. He does not resist. He takes him through the halls of the castle, Noor and Marco following, both demanding to know what he is doing.

“Please tell me my mother isn’t here,” says Yusuf.

“She isn’t,” Nicolò says, and opens the door to the chamber where the prince consort is sitting – no, standing, examining one of the tapestries. He turns as the door opens, and visibly startles. “My son!”

Nicolò lets go of Yusuf’s hand. “Is this – your highness, is this Prince Yusuf?”

“Of course it – he has been here, and you said nothing?”

“He didn’t know,” says Yusuf; when Nicolò looks back at him, he looks very rueful. “I do not know how, but...”

“You will forgive me for taking you at your word,” Nicolò snaps, and then regains control of himself. “We met under circumstances that meant it did not occur to me to wonder.”

“Nicolò, what is going on?” Marco demands, in Ligurian. “Are they upset at you because you have a lover here? I did tell you -”

It is suddenly very easy to tell who in the room can understand some Ligurian. The prince consort, certainly, Yusuf, apparently, a thing Nicolò did not know, Noor, not at all or perhaps only a very little, which is a cold and small comfort.

“It seems that this is in fact Prince Yusuf,” Nicolò replies. Marco gets that scrunched-up expression again. “Marco, perhaps you could go and...let Nile know she does not need to find a ship? That would be very helpful.”

“You are going to tell me everything later,” Marco says, but – his best quality – takes in Nicolò’s expression, and goes.

“Father,” Yusuf says, going over to the prince consort. “I am sorry. I know I must have caused you all a great deal of worry.”

“That is not even half of it,” his father says, “but we can speak of that later; I am only relieved that you stand before me, alive.” They embrace as well. Nicolò wonders what that would be like, having a father; his mother never encouraged him to think too long on his own.

“Does that mean I don’t have to marry him?” Noor asks. “If Yusuf is here –”

“Did you really think I was dead?” Yusuf says, looking alarmed.

“We did not know,” says his father, “but it was clear that your objection to the marriage was very real, and it did not seem we would get a profitable alliance with Genoa under those circumstances. So Noor –”

“But Noor can’t marry him!” Yusuf puts in, hastily.

Yusuf’s father frowns. “Do you know of some reason why not, from your time here?”

“Ah...no,” Yusuf says, avoiding Nicolò’s gaze. “I know of nothing to his discredit; he has been a very gracious host, when he did not know who I was. But I also know he does not want a wife.”

Noor sighs. “Well, I didn’t want to marry him and move to Malta either, but unlike you, I was not going to run off and have dramatics about it.” She scrutinises Nicolò. “I suppose if you already have a lover you do not want a spouse, but you came to my mother’s court nevertheless.”

“I do not have – there is no reason I cannot marry...anybody,” Nicolò says.

“Yusuf,” Yusuf’s father says very sternly, “may I take it that you have decided to do as you are asked? If for your own reasons, rather than ours.”

“He has had an extraordinarily difficult few days,” Nicolò says. “I – would not hold him to anything right now –”

At the same time Yusuf is saying, over him “Yes.”

“Hmmm,” says his father. “Well, that simplifies things considerably.”

Nicolò shuts his eyes for a second. He does not know how to feel.

“Yusuf,” he says, for the first time; he wants it to be the first time of countless times.

“Are you sure?” He steels himself. “I owe you a debt, remember; it could easily be this.”

“I am sure,” says Yusuf, “that I would never have to risk my life to get away from you, and that you are kind, and that I failed to value these qualities sufficiently before, when I fell in love.” His eyes are saying other things; Nicolò, who can still feel the bruises on his collarbone, can read them easily. Yusuf wrinkles his nose. “I remain to be convinced about Malta, but I think I could be. If that is enough, Nicolò –” He holds out his hand.

Nicolò takes it, wordlessly, and he smiles.

Threaded | Top-Level Comments Only

Page 5 of 53

Fills Post #2

Re: [fill] joe/nicky, preparing nicolo for yusuf [2/3]

Re: FILL: Joe/Nicky, SugarDaddyDom!Joe and subsugarbaby!Nicky, 4/??

Re: FILL: Joe/Nicky, ASMRtist Joe (6/?)

Re: FILL: Joe/Nicky, the sub earns a reward, 3/3

Re: FILL: Joe/Nicky, Joe/Other - arranged marriage V. marriage for love (3/5)

Re: FILL: Joe/Nicky, SugarDaddyDom!Joe and subsugarbaby!Nicky 3/??

Re: FILL: Joe/Nicky, SugarDaddyDom!Joe and subsugarbaby!Nicky, 4/??

Re: FILL: Joe/Nicky, SugarDaddyDom!Joe and subsugarbaby!Nicky, 4/??

FILL: Joe/Nicky, Joe/Other - arranged marriage V. marriage for love (4/5)

Re: Fill: Joe/Nicky, Yusuf disguises Nicoló (ft. shaving & veiling) (1/2)

Re: Fill: Joe/Nicky, Yusuf disguises Nicoló (ft. shaving & veiling) (1/2)

Re: FILL: Joe/Nicky, Joe/Other - arranged marriage V. marriage for love (4/5)

Rather the noose: Nicky/Joe/Booker, Booker misreads their relationship

Re: FILL: Joe/Nicky, SugarDaddyDom!Joe and subsugarbaby!Nicky 5/5

Re: FILL: Joe/Nicky, SugarDaddyDom!Joe and subsugarbaby!Nicky 5/5

Re: FILL: Joe/Nicky, SugarDaddyDom!Joe and subsugarbaby!Nicky 5/5

Re: FILL: Joe/Nicky, SugarDaddyDom!Joe and subsugarbaby!Nicky 5/5

Re: FILL: Joe/Nicky, SugarDaddyDom!Joe and subsugarbaby!Nicky 5/5

Fill: Joe/Nicky, Joe getting spoiled (5+1)

Re: Fill: Joe/Nicky, Joe getting spoiled (5+1)

Re: FILL: Joe/Nicky, SugarDaddyDom!Joe and subsugarbaby!Nicky 5/5

Re: Fill: Joe/Nicky, Joe getting spoiled (5+1)

AO3 link: Joe/Nicky, SugarDaddyDom!Joe and subsugarbaby!Nicky

Re: FILL: Joe/Nicky, Joe/Other - arranged marriage V. marriage for love (4/5)

FILL: Joe/Nicky, Joe/Other - arranged marriage V. marriage for love (5/5)