theoldguardkinkmeme

“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…