theoldguardkinkmeme | Fills Post #2

Fills Post #2

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The room Yusuf waits in is as luxurious and unnatural as the rest of the palace. He’s died in worse places. Golden script in a language Yusuf does not know has been painted on the walls, and looking at it makes his ears ring. A tray with steaming tea and dates has been left for him, but Yusuf has no desire to die a messy death from poison. He has no choice but to sit on the cushion—upholstered in black silk—and wait.

At least he does not have to miss Nicolò anymore. Nicolò’s presence is the only thing that could make this experience worse. If it is the hour of Yusuf’s death, it will be his death alone.

It is one thing to hear stories of djinn and demons and another to see a monster with his own eyes. It would be worse for him, Yusuf thinks. Nicolò’s faith is already fraught enough. If Yusuf cannot help but wonder if the immortality he has always assumed was God-given is in fact the work of magic, Nicolò would sharpen that thought against the whetstone of his guilt and then gut himself with it.

+++

They told him Yusuf would come.

Chained to a bed, burning with terrible anticipation, Nicolò holds fast to that thought. Yusuf wants him, doesn’t he? (The thing inside him makes him ache.) Even if he doesn’t, he’ll take pity on Nicolò. (He doesn’t know whether it’s too much or not enough.) Even if he’s changed his mind, he’ll have mercy if Nicolò tells him he’s suffering. (The longing for Yusuf’s hands and mouth and cock might kill him. Might keep killing him.)

He is suffering. Is this his fault? Does he deserve this?

“I’m sorry,” he says to no one.

+++

The Queen comes for him. She’s shed the veil, revealing a mass of braids on her head which squirm like snakes.

“Was the tea not to your liking?”

“It was delicious,” he says, sure that if he tasted it, it would be. “Thank you.”

She laughs, a sound like a sword being sharpened. “Well, perhaps our next gift will be more to your taste.” She gestures, and from nothing her daughter appears, clothed in nothing and smiling with bloody teeth.

“Forgive me, but I am not inclined to the company of women,” Yusuf says. It’s not fully a lie, he convinces himself. Of late Nicolò’s company has been the only kind he craves.

“No matter.” She turns away from him. Mercifully, her daughter vanishes, sparing Yusuf the need to stare at nothing to avoid having to look at her. “Come. This palace has many wonders.”

The palace has rearranged itself once more to the Queen’s whims, and each room contains treasures more fantastic than the last. One room has a fountain from which liquid gold spouts instead of water. Another is an orchard whose trees bear jewels instead of fruit. There is a room with a single sword, gleaming so brightly that Yusuf is seized by a terrible bloodlust when he looks at it; he has to bite his tongue before he can turn away.

With every subsequent refusal, the Queen’s smile widens.

“Ah,” she says, when they have reached the last room. Unlike the others, the door is closed. Painted on it is a bloody heart. “Here, perhaps, is something that will please you.”

The longer Yusuf stares at the heart, the more it looks as if it is beating.

“What is this?”

“Did you not want to be the blood in his heart?” She holds out her hand to him; in it is a handful of pomegranate seeds. “Do you want to know how he tastes?”

He opens the door.

There, lying on the carpet, is Nicolò’s sword.

“Will you accept the contents of this room, Yusuf?” the Queen asks.

“Yes,” Yusuf says. He can hear Nicolò breathing. “Yes.”

“Then I give them to you,” she says, and spills the seeds onto the floor. “Our debt is paid.”

“Thank you.”

She must hear the insincerity of his words, for she throws back her head and laughs, her braids writhing. “I like a man who says beautiful things,” she says, and then she is gone, turned to smoke and shadow.

Yusuf crushes the seeds underfoot before he goes.

+++

yes, i did in fact rewrite this entire fic bc of pomegranates, why do you ask
i will try to update soon

Ooh this is still so eerie and fascinating.

This is truly well done. I'm so looking forward to see them together *__*

excited to read more!

Oooh I am so curious about the significance of the pomegranates! Also I continue to love how fairy-tale-y this is. <3

And poor Nicky waiting for Joe to make it all better!

I love how tense everything is! The morbid anticipation of what is going to happen that Yusuf is experiencing makes me just as anxious! Can’t wait for the next update :)

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.

I have been checking this thread almost religiously for updates I’m so keen to see what happens next; the writing and atmosphere is absolutely BEAUTIFUL!!!

I still check this thread every day, author anon, I wanted to tell you that this is a really beautiful, almost mesmerizing story. I hope one day you’re able to finish it in a way that satisfies you, but in the meantime thank you for sharing this with us ♥

Like above anon, I also check this thread whenever I see the comment count increase. No pressure. Just some love for this lovely fic :)

The sheets are red silk, and against them Nicolò is naked and trembling.

Yusuf has seen Nicolò naked before. But Nicolò choosing to undress in his presence is trust; looking him when he’s been stripped and chained is a betrayal. Yusuf nearly averts his eyes in shame, but he cannot. In the palace where things appear and disappear so easily, he is afraid of what might happen if he closes his eyes.

So Yusuf looks. He tries not to look at Nicolò’s body, to only see the signs of his assault. The cuffs around his wrists have left streaks of still-wet blood down his arms. The kohl under his closed eyes is smudged; he must have cried. Nicolò is cleaner than Yusuf has ever seen him. His skin shines faintly in the lamplight, and he smells like sandalwood. His hair has been cut—usually Nicolò does it himself, with whatever knife he has to hand—and he has been shaved. (Thoroughly shaved, Yusuf realizes when his eyes stray too far down.)

His lips have been painted. Yusuf hates himself for noticing.

Nicolò’s wrists are chained above his head, and his arms are trembling from the strain. Yusuf finds the key to the cuffs the moment he looks for it, as if the room has anticipated how badly he wants an excuse to not look at Nicolò and is eager to deny him one.

He throws the cuffs onto the floor once they’re undone; Nicolò stirs at the sound.

He blinks languidly at Yusuf; his pupils are wide, eyes more black than blue. He tries to sit up, but his arms buckle underneath him. Yusuf reaches out without thinking to steady him, and Nicolò—who Yusuf has seen shy away from human contact like a stray animal—leans into his touch.

“Nicolò?”

“You came.” The words come out slightly slurred.

“Always,” Yusuf says. “Are you all right?”

“No,” Nicolò says slowly.

“Shh.” It pains him to watch Nicolò struggle to speak, like his mind is somewhere deep underwater. “I’m here. Let’s leave this place.”

Nicolò shakes his head, then bites his lip. “I’m sorry,” he says, and then he seizes the front of Yusuf’s tunic and crushes their mouths together.

+++

Nicolò tries.

He lays there, still and silent, as though Yusuf isn’t within arm’s reach. He bites through his tongue until he bleeds. He breathes through the pain.

Then Yusuf’s fingers brush over his wrist as he uncuffs him—no, leave them, Nicolò thinks, I’m not strong enough—and the sensation of his skin on Nicolò’s is too much. It’s unbearable. It whites out the pain like a blow to the head.

+++

Nicolò’s mouth tastes like pomegranate juice, tart and sweet. He kisses Yusuf clumsily, open-mouthed and wet, pulling on Yusuf’s oft-mended tunic until it tears. Yusuf tries not to touch him, but Nicolò plasters himself against Yusuf’s body like paint on canvas, and Yusuf can’t stop him without hurting him. Instead he lets himself be dragged onto the bed, lets Nicolò settle himself between Yusuf’s body and the sheets.

At least with Nicolò’s mouth on his he can close his eyes.

“Yusuf,” Nicolò says, finally, when they break apart. He’s panting like he’s punctured a lung. “Please.”

“I can’t.”

“Please.” He’s crying again.

“Nicolò.” He cups Nicolò’s cheek, pressing his thumb against his mouth in the vain hope he’ll be silent, or at least that he’ll fail to be explicit.

Nicolò’s tongue darts out against Yusuf’s thumb. “I want you to fuck me,” he says, “please, I’ll do anything.” He tries to kiss Yusuf again, and Yusuf recoils. “I thought you wanted me.”

He can’t bear Nicolò’s terrible desperation, Nicolò who has never begged him for anything, Nicolò who never admits to pain no matter how many times Yusuf reminds him that he, too, is immortal and therefore knows that it must hurt. Nicolò would never be so careless as to tear the tunic he’s spent so many hours mending by firelight, so cruel as to try to guilt Yusuf into sex.

They’ll hate themselves for this later.

But if the Queen’s enchantments can ensnare Nicolò’s mind, they might, too, be able to surpass whatever force keeps his body immortal. Yusuf doesn’t know if Nicolò would die before he let Yusuf touch him.

It doesn’t matter. Let Nicolò hate him for a thousand years after this. Too much blood has been shed between them already.

+++

There is heat. Pleasure. Yusuf’s beard scratching pleasantly against his skin. Nails digging into his thighs as he’s turned over—terrible emptiness—sweet relief. Yusuf’s tears falling onto Nicolò’s skin.

Nicolò tries to apologize, incoherent as he is, mad as the feel of Yusuf’s cock inside him has made him. He doesn’t know if Yusuf hears.

Omg an update! Thank you author! I also hope you’re doing well. Very excited to see what happens the morning after

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Fills Post #2

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Re: [fill] joe/nicky, preparing nicolo for yusuf [3/4]

Re: [fill] joe/nicky, preparing nicolo for yusuf [3/4]