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Fills Post

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Threaded | Flat

(Takes place mid-season 18 of Grey's Anatomy, about a year before the events of the Old Guard movie.)

*

“Nicky, for the last time,” said Booker, shutting his laptop with a decisive click, “are you sure you can pull this off?”

Nicky sighed. “For the last time, Booker,” he replied, “yes, I am. I should remind you that I’m the only one among us who’s earned a medical degree within the last four hundred years.”

Booker snorted. “Yeah, in 1900.”

“I’ve studied since then,” Nicky protested. “And as for surgery, I have more than enough experience. I’ve practiced on myself, too,” he added, “which is more than I can say for you.” '

Booker went faintly green, much to Nicky’s satisfaction. Joe snorted in obvious amusement from across the table. “Nicky,” Booker said, “if there’s something you want to tell me about what you’re into…”

“It’s practical,” Nicky said over Joe’s snickers. “You’re lucky Andy isn’t here, Booker. She might not kill you, but she would challenge you to some sort of fight until you truly wished you were dead. Joe, please stop laughing.”

Joe pounded the table a few times, bent over with laughter, then straightened up and wiped his eyes. “He’s got you there, Booker,” he said. “Look, you’re the one who agreed to get the fake credentials, so this is on you if he fails. Nicky, do you have the info on the guy? I want to look at it again.”

Nicky pulled a packet of folded papers out of his jeans pocket and passed it across the table. “He’s scheduled to have plastic surgery in a few weeks,” he said. “He won’t be my patient, of course, but I should be able to find out all the information I need to know from the medical records. No one will question it if I meet him in person as well.”

Booker rolled his eyes and opened his computer again. “Grey Sloan Memorial Hospital,” he muttered, squinting at the screen as he typed. “Sounds dreary as hell, but God, the shenanigans the people in this place get up to. It’s almost as ridiculous as our shit.”

“Yes, Booker,” said Nicky. “We know. You’ve said it before.”

“Yeah, well, I did you a favor and said it again.”

*

The new guy, or rather the potential soon-to-be new guy, had barely stepped into the lounge before the interns started making asses of themselves. “Holy God,” said Helm, and her jaw dropped. “Hi.”

“Hellmouth!” Meredith snapped, relishing Helm’s guilty look. Good. “I’m sorry,” she added, and went over to…what was his name again? “Meredith Grey, head of general surgery.” She held out her hand. “Good to meet you. Ignore the interns.”

“Likewise,” he said, and shook her hand. “Nicolò di Genova. It’s good to meet you…” He took a look at her nametag. “Dr. Grey? I think I was supposed to speak to you in person.”

“Yes,” she said, relieved at the reminder. “I’m glad you’re considering Grey Sloan. We could use your help here until you decide.” Sam Bello hadn’t been an attending, but with her leaving and DeLuca just barely off the couch as a result, they were short-staffed. Another pair of hands would be welcome, even if she’d never worked with them before. “Was I supposed to give you a tour?”

He glanced at something written on his hand. “Ah…no. Someone called Jo Wilson, I believe?”

“Oh. Yes, okay. I’ll page her.” That was a relief. There were way too many abdominal injuries this time of year, when kids started getting reckless in the newly-warm weather, for her to waste a morning on a tour. Wilson could be spared a lot more than she could. “Welcome to Grey Sloan, Dr. di Genova.” She looked at her watch and started – it was a lot later than she’d thought. “If you’ll excuse me, I have a bowel resection to prep for. You can wait in the hall if you want to get away from the interns.”

“Of course,” he said. “It was good to meet you.”

As she left, Meredith could have sworn she heard another curse from Helm. Scut for a month, she thought grumpily. They could all use a dose of it.

*

“I’m telling you,” Alex said through a mouthful of fries, “the guy’s not gonna stick around.”

“Who would, after being sexually harassed in the workplace?” said Amelia.

Meredith hit her on the arm. “Shut up. He wasn’t sexually harassed. Helm’s just got a giant hellmouth, that’s all. I think he’d be a good addition, if I could convince Bailey to keep him. Richard said he’s never seen anyone assist on an emergency splenectomy that calmly their first time.”

“Come on,” Alex said dismissively, “even I could do a splenectomy and I’m not even gen surg. I could do it with my eyes closed. Besides, it’s not like he’s new to this.”

“Whatever, Alex.” Maggie, who had been focusing on her salad and her phone, finally spoke up from the other end of the table. “What are you doing, marking your territory? I doubt a new surgeon is any threat to – oh, Jesus.” Her eyes widened. “If the guy coming toward us is him, I think I understand Helm. McDishy.”

Meredith made a frantic slicing motion across her throat just as di Genova reached them. “Hello,” he said with a smile. “I’m sorry to bother you. May I sit here? I’m very lost in this place.”

“Sure,” said Meredith, and shot Alex a dirty look. “There’s room right there. How was your morning?”

“Interesting,” he said. “I enjoyed assisting in the surgery. Dr. Webber has very steady hands.” He sat down and tapped his tray. “Are there always so many desserts in the cafeteria?”

“Yes,” said Maggie, at the same time as Amelia said “Obviously.”

Di Genova raised an eyebrow, a smile curling at the corners of his lips, as he opened his soup container. “I see,” he said. “Well, I look forward to learning from all of you.”

Amelia raised her water glass. “Same to you,” she said. “Doctor…it’s di Genova, right?”

He ate a spoonful of soup. “Yes,” he answered, “but please, call me Nicky.”

*

“That man could sink the Titanic,” Jo said.

Meredith looked up from her charting. “What did you say?”

Jo pointed at Nicky’s retreating back as he disappeared into the on-call room across the hall from the nurses’ station. “That. What’re you guys calling him, McDishy? He has eyes the color of an iceberg and an ass you could crash a ship on.”

The nurses around her exploded into giggles. “Does Alex know you’re perving on other men?” Meredith asked.

“Who’s perving on other men?” said Bailey as she arrived at the station, leaning against the counter. “Grey, Wilson, is the new admit in the system yet? ER said it’s cholecystitis, but I have my doubts.” She fixed Jo with a gimlet stare. “Or are you too busy drooling over random men?”

“Not in yet,” Meredith answered as Jo looked down, cheeks reddening. “I’ll check for Charcot’s triad once he’s in a room. That’ll tell us something.”

Bailey pursed her lips. “At least someone over here has her head on straight,” she muttered, and turned to go, only to step back when the door to the on-call room burst open. “Whoa!”

Nicky sidestepped her and slammed the door behind him. “Um,” he said, eyes wide, “people are ffffff –“ He looked sideways at a passing group of mostly interns. “Fornicating in there. Is that allowed?”

“No, it isn’t,” said Bailey over the renewed chorus of laughter. “Thank you for bringing this to my attention, Dr. di Genova. Wilson, find out who’s in there and page them out.”

“Who’s fornicating?” Carina DeLuca split off from the group to lean her elbows on the counter.

“No one you know,” said Meredith, and clicked her chart open again, refraining from grinding her teeth only with the utmost effort. This was really, really not the time. “Is there something you need?”

Carina shook her head. “I’m looking for Arizona,” she said. “We finished a complicated C-section and I need to debrief. Who’s this?” She smiled at Nicky. “I don’t think we’ve met. I’m Carina DeLuca, OB.”

“You’re Italian?” Nicky’s face lit up. “Sono Nicolò.”

“Sono Carina!” she exclaimed. “Piacere!”

Nicky grinned and returned her greeting, and within seconds, the conversation evolved into the kind of fast, animated Italian that Meredith had last seen Carina deploy to scream her brother off Meredith’s couch. She caught the words ostetricia e ginecologia, but apart from that, they could have been talking about rocket science for all she knew.

She was in the middle of writing up the history and physical exam for her latest patient when she heard English again. “But I don’t see why you’re so surprised about the on-call rooms, Nicolò,” Carina said. “It’s natural when people work in such a stressful environment. Maybe it’s not the classiest behavior, but it’s an understandable stress valve, I think.”

“But this is a place of healing,” Nicky protested. “Shouldn’t people refrain from those activities in a hospital? If the patients aren’t allowed, then why should doctors take advantage?”

Meredith thought guiltily of her own extracurricular activities in the on-call room, then shook her head and pushed the thoughts away. “I wouldn’t overreact,” she said. Nicky blinked at her. “No, I mean – look, they’re coming out now.” There was indeed a guilty-looking couple emerging. “And by the way, you don’t need to watch your language around the interns. They’ve heard a lot worse than ‘fucking’ before.”

Nicky pursed his lips. “I think I’ll go find somewhere else to sleep,” he said, and nodded towards Carina. “It was a pleasure, Dr. DeLuca. I look forward to meeting this brother of yours.”

Jo, Meredith noticed, watched him again until he vanished from view before turning back to the nurses’ station. “What the hell? ’Fornicating’?” she said to Meredith. “Is this medieval times?”

FILL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26182771

Prompt here: https://theoldguardkinkmeme.dreamwidth.org/1106.html?thread=152402#cmt152402

With a bonus line from the comics for those who’ve read them! ;)

Somehow it’s fitting that it’s Nile, the newest blood out of all of them, who figures it out. She’s noticeably picking at her food a couple of days after they left Booker, and Andy finally gives in with a sigh. “What is it?” she asks, setting her fork down, exasperated.

“It just doesn’t seem right,” Nile muttered, and Nicky was all ready to dive in, to explain to her that while a century might seem like a long time, it was nothing compared to their nearly-endless lives and they all needed a bit of space to get over Booker’s betrayal before they could welcome him back. “I mean, an omega like him, all on his own,” Nile continued, oblivious. “Not that omegas can’t be off on their own and do whatever they want,” she clarified, clearly misinterpreting their looks of shock. “But he was hurting and so lonely and I think he was about to go into heat and it just didn’t feel right.”

“Booker’s not an omega,” Andy declared, but she didn’t sound completely confident of it. Nile raised an eyebrow, incredulous. “Are you kidding? I could tell that in the first ten minutes after we met. And you guys knew him for two hundred years and never—“

Nicky shrugged, looking a bit sheepish. “Joe and I are both betas, and anyways, by the time Sebastien came along there weren’t that many omegas left anyway. Are you sure? He’s never gone into heat around us, I’m confident of that.”

Nile rolled her eyes. “He’s just gotten good at hiding it. Trust me, my best friend from high school was an omega and embarrassed about it and we managed to hide it for four years.” She quirked an eyebrow at Andy. “I understand Joe and Nicky because they’re betas anyway. But how could you miss it? You’re, like—“ she gestured with her hands to try and encapsulate all of Andy, her quiet confidence, the alpha pheromones she exuded. “You’re like the textbook definition of an alpha. You didn’t think that he smelled differently than Joe and Nicky?”

Andy chewed her lip, a sinking feeling in her gut as she considered the possibility that Nile might be right. Back all those thousands of years ago when Andy had first roamed the plains, omegas had been more common, and she had grown up believing that they were something to be treasured, cherished. They were even more precious now that there were so few of them. Could she really have had one, right in front of her, and let him suffer alone, hiding his designation and struggling through his heats on his own? “He smelled a little different,” she answered slowly. “But he was born seven hundred years later, I just thought...” she clenched her hand into a fist, angry at herself if she had somehow missed this, angry at the world. “So much has changed in the world, Nile. I just thought that was why.”

Joe looked concerned, so much so that Nicky had wrapped an arm around his shoulders, fingers tracing circles on his husband’s arm. “Boss....I mean, I’m still very, very pissed at him, but...if Nile’s right and he’s going into heat, do you think maybe we should check on him, just to make sure he has a safe place to ride it out?”

“Of course I’m going to have to make sure he’s alright,” Andy grumbled. “I still don’t think he can be an omega, don’t think I could have missed that for this long, but on the off chance that Nile’s right, I can’t let him suffer anymore on his own, even if he is a liar and a cheat. Goddamn this,” she said emphatically and went off to pack her bag.

When Andy found him in a village in the Pyrenees, it was immediately clear that Booker is in heat. It was early days, still, but she could smell the syrupy sweetness of it from outside the small cottage he’s staying in, and for the thousandth time since Nile lifted the lid on this, Andy felt like she could kick herself for having been so blind. How many times had Booker slipped away from them, feigning an errand, only so that he could hole himself up in a place like this? How many times had he had to fight off intruders who smelled his sweetness and tried to take advantage of him?

When she managed to get the door open, the smell was like an assault, like nothing she had smelled in more than two thousand years. It was like honeysuckle and a warm fire and the first blossoms of spring, all tied into one. It was a scent of home, of belonging, and she wanted, oh how she wanted. It was impossible for an old-school alpha like her not to want him with a sudden fierceness, but she had enough self-control to remember that she was just here to make sure he was alright.

If she thought it was bad smelling him, seeing him was worse. Booker was curled into a pile of clothes on the narrow bed—she thought she recognised something of hers and something of Joe’s, old clothes she hadn’t seen in years and had completely forgotten about—with three fingers plunged deep inside himself, fucking himself desperately as his hips rabbited forward against the mattress.

“Oh, Book,” she said, weary and turned on and filled with a deep sadness that he hadn’t trusted them with this. He turned, shocked at the sound of her voice, and his eyes widened as they locked with hers. “Boss,” he said, worshipfully, and came, spilling all over the little nest of clothes he had made and groaning with relief, and fuck. Andy was in trouble.

He looked sheepish as he came down from his high and removed his fingers with a wet pop. “C’est la guerre, hein?” He muttered. “I...I never meant for you to see me like this.” She sighed, sitting down next to him on the mattress, fighting to tamp down the urge to reach out and comfort him, to pull him into her arms and show him how she would cherish him, if he would let her.

“Well, that much is clear. Why, Book?” She asked, and the hurt was clear in her voice, along with the strain of holding herself at arm’s length from him. Every long-buried instinct in her was screaming out that there was an omega in distress next to her, one in heat no less. “We loved you so much. I loved you so much. Why didn’t you trust us with this?”

He sighed, picking at a thread on one of the T-shirts he had wadded up on the bed, not wanting to meet her eyes. “I didn’t want you to see me any differently. I was afraid that maybe you wouldn’t let me fight alongside you anymore, or you would just give me the easy tasks, and I didn’t want that.”

She shook her head, and finally she gave in and ran her fingers tenderly through his hair, sending a full-body shiver through him. “Then you didn’t know us very well, sweetheart. This is just a part of you, it doesn’t change how good a fighter you are, how much we like to have you watching our backs. I may be old, but I don’t subscribe to outdated ideas about omegas. I don’t think I ever told you, but Lykon was an omega, too, and I fought alongside him for thousands of years.” She pressed a kiss to Booker’s forehead, and he nearly sobbed. “I’m sorry that we made you feel like you had to hide this. I’m sorry that I didn’t notice.”

He shook his head. “I didn’t want you to notice,” he explained, and for a moment he surrendered to her gentle caresses through his hair. She could feel the moment that his scent changed again, becoming sweeter, sharper, and when she looked down his cock was already filling against his thigh. “Again so soon?” She asked, a little surprised that it was this bad so early in his heat, and he sighed. “It’s—it’s worse than usual this time,” he admitted, and then, knowing that she would ask, “it’s because I hugged you goodbye the other day. I don’t usually let myself get that close to you right before my heat,” and she felt like her heart was breaking at how careful he had had to be, all on his own, to hide this from them.

Andy swallowed, deeply, the knowledge that she had affected him this way settling low in her gut. “Booker,” she said cautiously. “I’m not going to fuck you, because that’s a conversation we would have to have when you’re not already in heat, but...if you want, I can help you out a little bit? Or I can leave, whatever is easiest for you.”

“Please stay,” he gasped out, unable to deny himself this when it was right in front of him. “Please, boss, please help me...” he begged as he wrapped a hand around his weeping length, and she was helpless to resist. “Come here,” she beckoned, rearranging them so that he was nestled in her arms. “Do you have a toy you like, something you want me to use?” But he was shaking his head. “Your fingers, please, Andy, it’s all I want.”

She gave him what he wanted, sliding two fingers into him at once and groaning at how slick he was. “That’s it,” she soothed as he rocked back onto her fingers. “I’m here now, just let it out, darling.” She crooked her fingers just so, pressing lightly against his sweet spot, and he screamed as if he had been electrocuted, seizing up in her arms as he climaxed again. “I dreamt of this,” he murmured lazily. “Dreamt so many times of letting you take care of me, Boss,” and she sighed against his neck.

“I’m going to take care of you, Book, this times and as many times as you want.” She swallowed a lump in her throat, but she knew it had to be said. “This doesn’t fix everything, Sébastien. The others are worried about you, but they aren’t ready to see you again, and it may be a while before they are. But I don’t want you to suffer alone, alright? If you need us, for your heat or for anything, I want you to call, and we will figure something out. What you did broke our hearts,” and she could feel his shoulders trembling and knew that he was crying silently. “But we will find a way to piece them back together, and a way to welcome you home, because we are family and we love you.”

Prompt here: https://theoldguardkinkmeme.dreamwidth.org/2487.html?thread=526775#cmt526775

Content warning: Homophobia

- - - - - - - - -

They are in a pub, because that is often where they go when they finish a mission. Dark wood walls, long wooden bar, some football game playing on the tv: Manchester United versus someone. There’s a low murmur of conversation rom the small crowd, tables full of a mix of college students letting off steam and older men here to watch the game. It’s easy enough to blend in at a pub—no one looks too closely at the others around them, and those that spend enough time to notice are usually drunk. This is not the sort of pub where one picks up a date for the weekend so they are able, to the best of their ability, to fly under the radar.

Nicky, for his part, leans back against the bar, elbows propped behind him as he leans, waiting for the round he’s just ordered them all. From here, he can see the whole group and he drinks them in like a man who is dying from thirst.

His Joe is laughing, gesturing widely with his hands, one still wrapped around his half empty drink, causing some of the beer to escape the edge to splash on Nile who is laughing along with him, her eyes bright with youth and mirth even as she threatens him with a fork for splashing her. Andy is regarding them both with an expression he thinks is supposed to be ire, but is ruined by the smile that keeps tugging at her lips.

The seat next to them (empty, though it shouldn’t be) tugs at Nicky. It’s not that he doesn’t agree with Booker’s sentence—it will be a long time until he can sleep without the visions of Joe’s face contorted in pain as that woman extracted yet another sample—it’s simply that, perhaps, he misses his family despite it. It did not take him a millennia to realize things often are quite complicated.

Watching from here, he can see the moment Joe launches into the story. Nicky’s not sure which one it is, he can’t hear this far away from the table, but he can see the expressions that cross his Yusuf’s face, the gestures that go along with it. Ah, it’s a sweet one, based on that smile alone. If Booker were here, leaning against the bar, Nicky might toss down a bet: a hundred says it’s either the time in Brazil in ’42 or the Alps in ’89. Nile leans forward to hear him better, while Andy rolls her eyes in good natured humor and links her hands behind her head, leaning back – she’s heard this one before.

Behind him, the bartender clears her throat and Nicky turns, apologetic, giving her a bright smile and a quiet ‘scusa grazie’ as he gathers the drinks.

He’s halfway back to the table when he finally catches Joe’s voice:

“And there he is, standing in his coat—you know the kind, the puffy ones, and his scarf—Nicolo hates the cold—” Ah, it is the Alps then. “—but the worst of the entire thing was his hat—” Nicky shakes his head, and is too busy being fond (this man has his heart, more than anyone or anything else in the world—he cannot imagine a time without him) to notice the intruder at first.

“He has purchased this hat in town you see. And my Nicolo is many things, Nile, but also maybe he is colorblind—”

“Hey, you want to shut the fuck up?” The gruff voice cuts the space between Nicky and Joe like a knife. Joe falls silent, out of surprise more than anything else, Nicky assumes, and looks over to the speaker.

A tall man, broad and mean who stands at their table, eyes dark and face twisted in anger. At the table, the mood has shifted from the giddy high of finishing a mission and all of them being alive (not something to take for granted anymore) to tense silence: he watches Nile reach under the table toward her boot, Andy’s hand tightens around her drink. Joe blinks and starts with:

“I’m not sure—”

“I said, you want to shut the fuck up?” The guy repeats again, leaning forward toward, hands pressed on the edge of the table, toward Joe, “We’re trying to watch the game and we don’t need to listen to a bunch’a queers--”

“That is enough.”

Nicky sets the drinks on the table. It would not do to spill them—he has just purchased them, after all, and he is looking forward to trying the cider he’s never had before. His voice is cold and does not leave much room for argument.

“The fuck did you say?” The man turns his attention to Nicky—mistakenly deciding he seems the easier target, thin and tall as he is. Nicky does not move.

“Do not tell my husband what to do,” He replies, ignoring the twist of the man’s lip at the word ’husband’.

“Listen here, you little—” the sentence is cut off with a hiss of breath as Nicky presses himself into the man, using his bulk against him, a sharp twist of his wrist between them, Nicky’s hand wrapped tightly around it, the pressure just shy of breaking.

“I would not finish that sentence, if I were you,” Nicky instructs, quietly, “because as it stands, I have your hand and if the mood strikes I could break it, quite easily. All it would take is a bit more pressure,” He tilts forward just enough to show what he means—he can see the sweat begin to bead on this thug’s upper lip. They never are so tough, once you prove they’re breakable, “and your wrist will break in three places. I do not have much experience with it, but as I understand the recovery period is somewhere near eight weeks. Perhaps even you will need surgery,” He twists a fraction more—there will be a fracture now, most likely, hairline though—it should not bother him too much if he will wear a brace. “Is two months of recovery worth interrupting a man who is telling a story?”

He waits, but the thug does not reply, looking at him with eyes that are now both furious and, wisely, slowly filling with fear. Nicky does not let go of his hand, but continues:

“It would be a shame to break you, as I like this pub, and I’d like to sit with my husband and finish my drink. I also would like to hear the end of this story, because he changes it every time. I am going to bet the tall woman over there on the ending, and I am going to make a hundred dollars and we will not,” He pauses again, a hint of a smile on his lips, a hair more twist, a bit more pain, “be bothered again, sì?”

“Yeah, whatever,” the guy retorts, a full sheen of sweat on his face now, and Nicky nods, releasing him with a pat on his shoulder, and a not subtle shove toward his table. He stays standing, watching as the man rubs over his wrist and winces, making sure he takes his seat and that the thug’s friends don’t feel the need to defend his honor. The group turns and looks at their table once, collectively, and whatever they see dissuades them enough they turn back to their beers and the television nearby. Good.

“Always nice to make new friends,” Nicky offers, blandly as he begins to pass out drinks, mostly to hear Nile’s barked laugh and to see Andy’s smile.

He slips back into his chair, tucked between Andromache and the light of his life and takes a long drink from his cider. Ah, they’re getting better at this. It nearly tastes as good as it did two hundred years ago. His hand finds Joe’s under the table and he squeezes, gently, resting their joined fingers on Joe’s knee. The man smiles at him, achingly fond, and steals a kiss. Nicky insists on letting it linger—for their new friend’s sake.

When they break, Joe launches back into it: “The hat, Nile, the hat is orange, but with pink stripes knitted in—”

Beside him, Nicky leans to Andy and whispers: “Fifty I end up dying in a cave this time.”

She laughs and shakes her head, but tugs out the money anyway.

At his side, Joe talks on.

prompt here: https://theoldguardkinkmeme.dreamwidth.org/1468.html?thread=236732#cmt236732

fill here: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26199274

prompt: https://theoldguardkinkmeme.dreamwidth.org/2487.html?thread=406199

fill: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26203186

Prompt
https://theoldguardkinkmeme.dreamwidth.org/1106.html?thread=130386&posted=1#cmt557394

Fill
https://archiveofourown.org/works/26193094

Prompt here: https://theoldguardkinkmeme.dreamwidth.org/1106.html?thread=130642#cmt130642

Booker picked up the lamp on his beside table, chucked it on the floor, and enjoyed five seconds of satisfaction hearing it shatter before he regretted it. He had quite liked that lamp, too. He was just so incredibly frustrated, he felt like he was crawling out of his skin with it, and he didn’t know how to find relief.

In fact, that was precisely the problem. Ever since he had been exiled from the team, he hadn’t been able to climax a single time. He woke up achingly hard every morning and tried everything—stripping his cock fast, gently trailing his fingers down the shaft, fingering himself open, using a toy, and none of it worked. He could feel the pleasure of it, but he just couldn’t come. Ever.

The night before, he had gone to a club and picked up a pretty young woman. He had made her come twice with his mouth and then once again when he was buried inside her, but even the way she clenched around him as she came wasn’t enough to push him over the edge, and he had to pull out still hard and throbbing and make awkward excuses to her.

He had tried men, too, even though that wasn’t usually his thing, but it didn’t appear to make any difference. And so there he was, waking up with yet another morning erection that he already knew he wouldn’t be able to do anything with. He gave it a valiant effort, anyway, stroking himself as he teased his hole with one finger, but he was only left panting and desperate with a cramped wrist.

The problem was that for more than a hundred years, Booker could count on one hand how many times he had masturbated. He simply hadn’t needed to—he had found his own unique way to get his pleasure.

He and Andy had been drunk the first time, in a sleepy village in Spain, and Joe and Nicky had long since gone to bed. Andy made an idle remark about how much she needed to get laid, and Booker raised an eyebrow and offered himself up. He had been surprised but pleased that she took him up on it, and he had kissed down her pale skin before licking into her with gusto. She could tell that he was enjoying it by the moans and whimpers muffled by her folds, but it amazed both of them when he suddenly seized up, his tongue pausing in its earnest ministrations, and she looked down to see him spilling untouched.

After that, it became a thing between them—Booker would go down on her whenever they had a spare moment to themselves and a scrap of privacy, and he would inevitably come before she did. Now, it was like his body had forgotten anything else, didn’t know how to climax without her taste on his lips.

He was dialling the number before he had time to fully think about what he was doing, and he started to panic as it rang, about to pull the phone from his ear and end the call, and then he heard her voice. “Book?” She asked, sleep-rough and clearly concerned—naturally, since he wasn’t supposed to be contacting them. “Is everything alright? Are you hurt?”

“Not hurt,” he quickly reassured her. “I’m..fuck, I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have called, I know I’m supposed to stay away from you, I just didn’t know what else to do.”

There was a pause, and then a soft sigh. “It’s okay, Booker. What is it? What’s wrong?”

He buried his face in the pillow, blushing as he thought about how to try and describe the problem. “I can’tcomewhenI’mnotwithyou”, he mumbled, all together so quickly that she undoubtedly couldn’t understand any of it. “What did you say?” She asked, impatient, and he groaned, deeply embarrassed. “I can’t come anymore,” he finally managed. “I tried eating other women out but it’s not the same. And I’m hard all the time and it hurts and I don’t know what to do.”

There was a sharp intake of breath on the other end of the line, and he waited, anxious, for her reply. “You haven’t come since we parted ways? Not once?” Andy asked, sounding almost awed.

“No,” he whined, and if he hadn’t been aroused before, the sound of her voice was driving him insane. He wrapped a hand around himself again, stroking idly. “I’ve tried everything, boss, I swear. Went to a shop and got nearly every single toy they had, came home and spent two days trying them all out on myself and I still can’t—ah!—fucking come.”

He should have known her too well to know that she would pick up on the little aborted gasp he had let slip as his thumb brushed over the head just right. “Booker,” she asked, equal parts suspicious and turned on. “Are you jerking off right now?” And he bit down on his own wrist to try and muffle the whimper he let out at that. “I’m so hard, boss,” he explained, which wasn’t a direct answer, admittedly, but it made it pretty clear that her guess was right. “I’m dripping everywhere, it’s making a mess,” and it was true, his cock was weeping a steady stream of precome, slicking his palm as he moved a little faster, long thorough strokes down his whole length, “and I feel like I’m burning up with it, like I’m in a desert and there’s nothing to quench my thirst.” He bit his lip. “Sometimes...sometimes over the last few weeks I’ve tried so hard to come that my cock gets too tender to touch, and then that’s even worse because I’m still hard but jerking off feels like agony.”

Honestly, if he had had the presence of mind to think about it, if any blood was left in his brain rather than his cock, he would have been surprised that she hadn’t hung up by now, disgusted by the filth that her exiled comrade was pouring out to her or embarrassed about how pathetic he was, that he could only climax from bringing her pleasure. But she was still on the line, breathing audibly, and finally she sighed and said “fuck, Book,” and he heard the sound of a zipper being undone, and then a little rustling, and his eyes widened.

“Boss? Are you—“ and when she replied, she sounded angry, almost. “Yes,” she replied a little bitterly, and now he could hear it, too, just barely, the slick sound of her fingers, and his cock twitched in sympathy under his palm. “I don’t have much choice, because hearing you talk like that is hot as fuck, and, well. You’re not the only one who’s missing our little sessions,” she confessed reluctantly.

And oh, he hadn’t thought about that at all, had assumed that she could just go find anyone to hook up with and it would be just as good as Booker. “Really, boss?” He asked, eager, slicking up a finger and pressing it into himself with a groan.

“Yes,” Andy replied more confidently, her voice a bit strained. “Nobody can do that like you can, Booker,” and he flushed all over with surprise and pride. “No matter how good someone thinks they are at eating a woman out, it can’t compare to you, with your hundred years of practice knowing just what I like—oh, fuck, Booker, I wish you were here—just where to touch me, mm—“

“I wish I was there too, so badly, Andy,” he gasped out, fucking his fist in jerky little motions as he tried to finger himself in time with her movements he could hear over the phone. “The closest I get to actually managing to come—oh, that feels good—is when I wake up from a dream where we’re all back together, and I have my first taste of you after so long, let you ride my face, fuck boss—“

“Booker, I’m close,” she warned, and he just keeps babbling, lost in the fantasy of being buried between her thighs again. “I would start so slowly, just running my tongue through your wetness, just learning your taste again and every hidden corner of your folds, and then—“ he broke off because he heard her groan, almost like she was in pain, but he knew from long experience that she was about to come. Her fingers sped up, he could tell, and then she cried out, moaning and whining as she worked herself through it.

“Oh god, boss,” he said, enraptured, listening to every last gasp that filtered its way over the phone to him. “Oh god, oh god,” and maybe she could tell what was coming before he could, but he almost couldn’t believe it when his cock jerked violently in his hand and then he was finally, finally spilling, thick spurts coating his hand and thighs and the sheets.

“That’s it, Book, let it go,” she was murmuring softly on the phone, and he couldn’t reply, was nearly sobbing with relief as he kept working himself through it, only pulling his hands away when he was sure that he was completely spent.

The shame came quickly on the heels of his spectacular release, unfortunately, and he brushed an arm over his eyes, feeling unwanted tears pricking at them. “I’m sorry, Andy,” he told her, a little wetly, and it was about calling and also about the other, bigger things. “I miss you too much, it’s like a hole in my heart, always.”

She sighed. “I miss you too, Booker. But I...I’m really glad that you called.” She was silent for a long time, thinking. “I’m not ready to see you again and the others definitely aren’t ready to see you again, even if I know they miss you too. But...maybe calling would be okay, to start off with? Not just for sex,” she joked weakly. “Though also for that, that was crazy hot.”

He was nodding frantically before he realized she couldn’t see him. “Yes, please, I would like that. Whenever—whenever you want, boss, call me and I’ll pick up,” and he had to swallow past a lump in his throat.

“I will,” she promised. “And Book? Take care of yourself,” she added before she hung up. He lay there for a moment, still loose and relaxed after his release and like something hard in his heart had been dislodged after hearing her voice again. Today was a good day, he thought, mentally cataloguing all of the errands he had been putting off and deciding which to tackle first.

Prompt: https://theoldguardkinkmeme.dreamwidth.org/2726.html?thread=565926#cmt565926

The dust hasn’t even settled, their wounds still stitching themselves together, and Nicky taps his fingers on Joe’s arm. Two fingers, two taps. It’s a system they’d come up with years and years ago. Joe catches Nicky’s hand and has to crane back from where he’s seated in the front, to hold his lover’s gaze as he lifts the hand to his mouth and kisses it. An acknowledgement and promise to provide.

Nicky has to squeeze his fists against his thighs the rest of the car trip, but he manages.

Andy’s behind the wheel, she has a destination in mind for where to stop for the night and rest. But wherever they’re going, it’s far. Too far for the whole team to stay awake. Booker is huddled up against the window, arms crossed, and a furrow on his brow. Like sleep isn’t coming easily. Nile is on the opposite side and her expression is serene. Nicky is sandwiched between her and Booker, Nile’s head on his shoulder, and it’s just enough tactile comfort to keep him from vibrating out of his skin. But that doesn’t stop him from bouncing his legs up and down, rubbing his hands against Joe where he can reach him, muttering softly under his breath in both Italian and Arabic. The car is purring quietly on the long stretch of straight road ahead.

“How much longer, Andy?”

They’ve been driving for hours, people are starting to wake up, and complain. They’re uncomfortable, they’re tired, they’re hungry. Nicky’s fingers tap against Joe’s arm. Finally, finally Andy makes a turn. A sign tells Joe that they’re in Plymouth. It’s not one of their usual stops but it’s far enough and that’s what matters. Of all of them, Booker’s the cleanest so he’s the one who counts out the bills and thanks the front desk clerk for his discretion.

They crowd inside, stretch their limbs, take up all the space that they couldn’t in the car. It’s late, dark outside, and they haven’t eaten since- was it dinner last night? There’s no kitchen, not that anyone feels particularly compelled to cook at the moment. Nicky stays close to Joe’s side, fingers tapping, unsure of what to do now. They look to Andy for direction.

She emerges from the bathroom, shoulders back. “The tub’s only big enough for maybe one or two at a time. Nile goes first, then me, and we’ll go get dinner. Booker, you-” Andy sees the looks on Joe and Nicky’s faces, and the tapping fingers, “You’ll come with us.”

There’s activity after that. People moving this way and that, moving around each other and with each other. Nicky watches them all without comment. He is untethered, unmoored, lost in the quiet of his own head. All he knows right now is this need and it’s a horrible, desperate, clawing thing making a home in his chest. But Joe. Joe cares for him so well, knows him so well, and guides Nicky over to the small table and singular chair. Nicky sits between Joe’s thighs, right where he wants to be, as his lover comforts him with an ice bucket full of warm water, a washcloth, and slow, methodical movements. Joe’s not able to get all of the blood out of Nicky’s hair, but it’s a start and it’s the intimacy that matters.

“Yusuf, I need-” Nicky’s voice is rough. He hadn’t said a word the entire trip from London to Plymouth. His nibble fingers are reaching, looking, grasping, tapping.

Joe brings his free hand forward to wipe his thumb across Nicky’s bottom lip. It’s still in the middle of healing from where he’s ripped apart the skin and chewed himself raw.

It occurs to Joe that the last thing his Nicolò had in his mouth was a gun. His heart breaks.

Andy and Booker will understand, but they haven’t talked to Nile about this. They haven’t introduced her to the way they seek each other for comfort, the way they’re not ashamed to fulfill each other’s needs, to soothe the burning and the pain and ache in any way possible.

They need each other now.

Booker washes his face and hands in the bathroom sink and calls it good enough. The three of them step out quickly, and as soon as they hear the sound of the lock sliding into place, Joe and Nicky are nothing but hands and want.

Joe catches his fingers on his zipper in his haste, but it’s a temporary sting. He hardly even feels it. His whole world is focused on Nicky’s eyes, his mouth, his nose, his breathing, his hands which are everywhere all at once. They drag Joe’s pants down just far enough that his ass is naked on the cold wood of the chair and Nicky can get his mouth on him. He’s not even hard, but it doesn’t matter. It doesn’t matter.

What matters is the way Nicolò looks at him, so grateful, so relieved. Eyes full of love and trust and peace. ‘Thank you,’ they say, ‘Thank you for giving me this. Thank you for making it better.’ It’s enough to make Joe’s vision mist over with tears that spill onto the chestnut brown hair, which is still matted in places the washcloth didn’t reach.

Nicky takes Joe’s cock as deep as he can and just sits. He lets the weight of it sit on his tongue and pin him to the floor. His tapping fingers are still. Joe leans over as much as he can in this position and cries. It’s ugly, choked sobs making his chest heave and Nicky helps him through it by holding his hand and keeping him warm. Keeping them connected in this way.

They’re alive. Every inhale, every squeeze of their interlaced hands is a reminder. They’re alive.

Too soon, the others return. Someone knocks first and Joe sniffles before telling them to “Come in.” He doesn’t move Nicky away, he wouldn’t dare. Not when his heart is finally calmed down and floating, no longer thinking about the hot metal of a gun or the bite of a bullet. He pets Nicky’s hair and nods to Andy who takes Nile aside.

It’s been a while since she’d had to explain this to someone new, and she’d never been particularly… tactful when it came to this.

“Hey, listen, sometimes… when a mission gets really nasty, we uh… we need to - basically-”

Booker cuts her off, “Joe and Nicky have sex all the time. Sometimes in front of us, sometimes not. But after a mission like that, they’re going to be on each other a lot more so keep that in mind.”

Nile takes a quick peek over to the table and sees Nicky between Joe’s knees. It wasn’t what she’d been expecting when she’d met her new teammates, but it wasn’t a new concept either.

“Okay, yeah, I get it. Saw it all the time on duty.”

They leave it at that. Andy coaxes Joe to at least eat a little, and Nicky is...well, he can use the microwave. They sit there until the others have gone to sleep and would stay longer but Joe kisses Nicky’s forehead and tells him, “My heart, you need to eat. Please, let me feed you.”

When they finally shuffle over to the empty bed, they’re too exhausted to continue. The throbbing hollow feeling in their chests will wake them in the morning, demanding they fill the bullet shaped empty spaces with each other.

In the days and weeks following, they work their way to being okay again. Nile quickly becomes accustomed to waking up and seeing Nicky on his knees. Finding them sprawled out on the couch. Or sitting around the table eating dinner with her teammates, Joe passing his husband bites between his fingers underneath the table.

Sometimes that emptiness seems to scream. Images of Keane and the gun and Nicky’s clever, sharp eyes gone blank and dull come flooding back. Nicky relaxes his throat as Joe grips his hair and tries to pound the memories out of both their heads.

Sometimes, they’re quiet. After hours and hours of holding Joe in his mouth, Nicky allows him to probe with his fingers. Tracing his lips and teeth, feeling the tremors of his tongue. Memorizing each millimeter, covering any space, marking it all clean with his fingers, his cock, his cum.

For weeks, they do this. Nicky falls to his knees or Joe tugs him down, and it hurts, it hurts, it hurts until it doesn’t. The emptiness is satisfied.
Then, they do what they’ve always done. They learn to live with this. They brush off their knees and they stand tall.

ao3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26214652

FILL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26214991

Prompt: https://theoldguardkinkmeme.dreamwidth.org/2487.html?thread=501687&posted=1#cmt572087

Fill: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26215162

Prompt: Yusuf's men get to use Nicolò's mouth while Yusuf fucks him. Some nights that's only a few men. Most nights, though, Yusuf takes forever to finish and Nicolò goes through his entire army.

Enthusiastic consent from everyone involved.

Fill: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26220343

Posted here: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26229418

Prompt: https://theoldguardkinkmeme.dreamwidth.org/2487.html?thread=523959#cmt523959

Filled on AO3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26232157/chapters/63846556

This one kind of ran away from me and I'd be happy to write another short one shot if it doesn't tick the box of what you were after OP! I loved the idea a lot

Set back in the good ol'days, Andromache loves watching Yusuf and Quynh go at it. They're gorgeous together, and Quynh always puts on a bit of a show. She loves watching Quynh come and licking her spend off of Yusuf's cock or face or thighs...
Prompt: https://theoldguardkinkmeme.dreamwidth.org/2487.html?thread=401847#cmt401847

Fill: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26219725

:')

Fill is here: https://theoldguardkinkmeme.dreamwidth.org/2487.html?thread=598967#cmt598967

Prompt here: https://theoldguardkinkmeme.dreamwidth.org/2726.html?thread=595366#cmt595366

“Oh, that’s good, just like that, beautiful,” Joe murmurs as Booker’s tongue does something around his cock that sends white-hot flares up his spine, and he sees the man on his knees literally flush with pride. It takes so little, really, to work Booker up. A kind word, a warm cock between his lips, and he’s already gone for it.

“Fuck me,” Joe demands, tilting his hips up, enjoying the way that it makes Booker’s throat contract briefly around him, right on the edge of gagging. He’s been craving it for a while but let Booker have his fun licking around the head of his cock first.

Nicky is watching from a nearby armchair, but his eyes are only on Joe, only ever on his husband. Booker doesn’t pull off Joe’s cock immediately, still suckling at him with a blissful look on his face like he can’t bear to let Joe slip out of his mouth, and Joe tugs at his hair. “I said I want you to fuck me,” he repeated, a slight edge of steel in his tone. Nicky shifts slightly, as if he wants to intervene but knows that Joe can handle it, and Booker finally pulls away, whining at the loss.

Booker trails two fingers down to Joe’s entrance to open him up, but Joe brushes him away. “Nicolo already had me earlier,” he explained, sharing a tender glance with his husband. “Just fuck me. I want it hard,” he clarifies, and that’s part of why he’s sought out Booker of course. Nicky is always a little afraid to hurt Joe, a little too careful, and sex between them is amazing but achingly tender. It’s not what Joe is craving right now—he wants to be properly railed, wants to feel the stretch and burn, wants Booker to pound into him.

“Mm, yes, that’s what I needed,” he sighs happily as Booker sinks in. He loves Nicky’s cock, knows every centimetre of it intimately, but Booker is noticeably bigger and he always relishes that first push in. Joe’s strong arms wrap around Booker’s waist, hands settling on his hips to pull him closer. “Come on, give it to me, Book,” he demands and Booker tries his best to comply, pistoning his hips in long, deep thrusts, aiming squarely for Joe’s prostate.

Joe very quickly goes wild for it, nails digging into Booker’s skin as he urges him on. The groans and cries he lets out every time Booker nearly pulls out, head catching on the rim, are pure filth, but the words he babbles are unexpectedly sweet. “You’re so good for me,” he praises. “Giving me just what I need, oh fuck that feels so good, harder, Sebastien—you’re so lovely like this, just perfect, yes oh right there, Book, right there right there, darling, my shining star, my beautiful blossom, my dear heart—“

Booker’s eyes prickle with tears, but he doesn’t stop his steady rhythm, the staccato pattern of deep thrusts that pushes Joe up the bed with each push in. “Oh yes,” Joe gasps out, his cock bobbing against his belly. “You’re going to make me come, sweetheart, so so good at this, oh yes, more, Book, just like that, mm yes—“ and he presses a soft kiss to the corner of Booker’s lips, a sweet encouragement.

When Joe spills, screaming out his pleasure and clenching so hard around Booker’s cock it’s almost painful, his focus, for just the barest of moments, is fully on Booker. He peppers his face with kisses, nonsense words of praise spilling from his mouth, and Booker basks in it, even as he fights not to simply let go and come inside Joe, a privilege he knows he hasn’t earned.

“Keep my cock warm?” Joe suggests and Booker pulls out quickly in his haste to get back on his knees. He’s careful when he takes Joe between his lips, cautious of his sensitivity after he’s just come, and Joe sighs in pleasure as his length disappears into that lovely warmth, his fingers carding through Booker’s hair. Booker rocks back on his heels contentedly, pleased beyond measure that he can give Joe what he needs.

He knows that he has done well when Nicky gets up from the armchair and comes up behind him. He doesn’t always do this—most of the time he simply leaves Booker hard and wanting, and that’s alright, Booker likes that he has to earn this, has to put extra effort into pleasing Joe. Nicky’s fingers are almost clinical as they trail down Booker’s back and slide between his cleft. Nicky just rubs at Booker’s entrance, a promise of what could be, and when he barely dips the tip of one finger inside, Booker comes with a shout, careful not to let Joe slip out of his mouth. “So lovely, Sebastien,” Joe tells him, eyes hooded as he watches Booker’s climax, and Booker knows that this is bliss.

I was working on this today and came to fill it and didn't realize that the lovely Loonyluna25 had already filled it. But, well, here's another take, if you'd like it:

https://archiveofourown.org/works/26276872

FILL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26292004/chapters/64012723

Prompt: Years in the future, Nile shows up to say goodbye when her mom is on her deathbed. Her mom thinks she is seeing a vision. It’s not like Booker’s experience - it’s positive and cathartic for Nile. The sadder the better but I’d like it to end on a hopeful note.

Fill is here: https://theoldguardkinkmeme.dreamwidth.org/2726.html?thread=573350#cmt573350

Fill: https://theoldguardkinkmeme.dreamwidth.org/2726.html?thread=597926#cmt597926

Prompt: https://theoldguardkinkmeme.dreamwidth.org/1468.html?thread=286652#cmt286652

Somehow, Nile doesn’t pick up on what’s going on until well after they find Quynh holding Booker captive and end up bringing the two of them home. Over the months she’s spent with the Guard, she could see how much they cared for each other, and she definitely noticed that they were a very physically affectionate group. Joe and Nicky were constantly wrapped up in each other, of course, but Joe would often rest his head in Andy’s lap while they were watching a movie, letting her slowly card her fingers through his hair, and Nicky had grabbed Booker or Quynh’s hand more than once to drag them off excitedly to show them something.

She thought later that maybe they had been holding off out of respect for her, since she was too new—or maybe things had still been too fragile for them, dealing with the aftermath of Booker’s betrayal and Quynh’s reappearance.

When she walks in the living room one day to find Andy riding Booker enthusiastically, though, Nicky’s mouth sealed around one of her nipples, there’s clearly a conversation that they need to have.

“We weren’t sure how you would react,” Andy admitted later, when they were all sitting around on the sofa together, ready to answer Nile’s questions. “We wanted to tell you, but we didn’t want to make you feel awkward if you weren’t interested.” Nile swallowed deeply. “So wait a second, you all are genuinely...together?”

Joe nodded, holding Nicky’s hand in his own and squeezing it softly. “We are. Nicolo and I still have a special relationship that’s all our own; we were together for hundreds of years, just the two of us, before the first night we shared with Andy and Quynh.” He smiled fondly at the memory. “It was my Nicky who came up with it, to begin with. We had just finished a mission in Portugal, were out camping in a field and we had lain our two bedrolls close to the fire. Nicky and I were lying in each other’s arms and Andromache and Quynh were kissing deeply, just across the fire from us, and we couldn’t help but watch. It was nothing we hadn’t seen before, even when Andy buried her face between Quynh’s thighs—privacy was difficult to get those days and we didn’t always wait until we had it to love each other—but it was the first time that I think both of us were overwhelmed by the sheer eroticism of it. Nicky turned to me and whispered “I would like to try that with them, wouldn’t you?” and, well. The rest is history.”

Nile’s eyes were wide, and she was squirming slightly at the picture Joe painted. “I always thought that would be nice,” she mused. “My family definitely wouldn’t have approved of it, but I always felt like the more love you have the better, right?”

Joe smiled and pressed a fond kiss to the top of her head. “You and I are in agreement there, Nile,” before he pulled away and looked at her inquisitively. “So...would you like to join us sometime? There is always a space open for you, if you like, it would be our pleasure to welcome you.”

“It really would,” Booker chimed in earnestly, and god, the feeling of all their gazes trained on Nile, the desire that she could clearly read in their expressions, was a lot to process.

“If you guys really mean that... I think I need a little time to process first, but yes, I would, sometime.” Nicky beamed at her, wrapping his arms around her in a gentle cuddle, and she relaxed into it. This was nice, she thought. She already loved them fiercely as teammates, it would be easy to learn to love them as lovers too.

It was a few weeks later before she knew that she was ready. Even if they had waited for her to come to them, they had stopped trying to hide their relationship in her presence, and she had loved getting to see all their gentle daily touches—Quynh pressing a good morning kiss to everyone’s lips, as if making up for all the days that she had missed; Nicky tracing little circles on Andy’s thigh during a movie night; Joe leaving lovebites on Booker’s neck that vanished almost immediately.

She had enjoyed getting to see some of their less gentle touches, as well. She thought she was going to die from arousal the day she discovered that Booker and Nicky had an ongoing
competition, of all things, of who could eat a woman out better. Nicky argued that he had a three-hundred-year head start on Booker, based on when he and Joe started sleeping with Andy and Quynh, while Booker argued
that he was more experienced thanks to his years with his wife, during which he apparently indulged in this on a daily basis. (No wonder he had a happy marriage, Nile thought.)

They decided to settle the debate by a demonstration—Booker settled between Andy’s legs, while Nicky kissed his way down Quynh’s body with a smirk. Joe and Nile were appointed to be the impartial judges, with points given for how quickly they could make their partner come, as well as for enthusiasm and finesse.

Nile didn’t know how she was supposed to be an impartial judge of anything when Booker was moaning into Andy’s cunt, lapping at it like he would die of thirst otherwise, and Quynh was wailing—genuinely screaming— as Nicky pulled out five hundred years of tricks, grinding against his face until she came so hard it almost looked painful. Nicky won for finesse, they decided, but Booker picked up serious enthusiasm points.

She was squirming afterwards, unbearably turned on after watching Booker and Nicky take their teammates apart, and Joe looked at her with a knowing glance. “Can I help?” He asked softly, playing with the waistband of her pants, and she couldn’t say no, let him slide his fingers into her, gentle and careful. The angle was a bit off, but she could tell that he was good at this, wondered how many times he had practised on Andy and Quynh. It had been a while since she’d had anyone else touch her like this, and it didn’t take long before she tipped over the edge, clenching hard around his fingers. “Thank you, Joe,” she said sweetly and he just smiled, bringing his fingers up to his lips for a taste, and she groaned at the sight.

That was the beginning, and over the following weeks they took great pleasure in showing her exactly what they liked. “Booker always comes way too fast when he’s fucking someone,” Quynh explained as she adjusted her strap-on and pushed into the Frenchman. “So it’s usually better this way. Though he can admittedly get hard again really quickly,” she said, and how she could talk about this so casually, while she was bottoming out in Booker no less, Nile didn’t know. “So it’s fun sometimes to let him fuck you, you know, if you want to be absolutely dripping with it afterwards.” She pressed a kiss to Booker’s cheek. “Isn’t that right, Book? I remember one time you came five times in Andy, got her absolutely filthy,” and Nile felt like her brain was short-circuiting at the image.

Another time, Nile was mapping out Andy’s toned body with her lips, kissing down her neck and then down her chest, and when her lips brushed Andy’s nipple the other woman jolted as if she had been shocked. Nicky laughed. “She’s very sensitive there, it’s the fastest way to drive her wild.” He positioned himself so that he could kiss Andy’s other breast, taking her nipple between his lips and sucking lightly, revelling in the choked-out moan it earned him. “I like to alternate between suckling on her, licking around the nipple and using my teeth, very lightly, just to scratch at her a bit,” he explained, swiping the flat of his tongue over Andy’s nipple before closing his teeth around it for the barest of seconds. Nile watched him carefully before she emulated him on her side, Andy’s breast cupped carefully in her hand as she licked over the pebbled nipple. “You two are going to be the death of me,” Andy gasped out as the two of them continued their ministrations, shuddering as Nicky’s teeth nipped at her. “She can come from this if we do our job right,” Nicky explained, and had to stifle a smile at how adorable Nile’s look of determination was as she sucked Andy’s nipple into her mouth again, her thumb tracing slow circles on the swell of Andy’s breast.

Joe, she learned, liked it slow and sweet with Nicky and fast and hard with all of the others, as if he used up all his reservoirs of sexual tenderness on Nicky and saved all of his desperation for the rest of the team. “Faster,” he urged Nile as she rode him, his fists clenched in the sheets, and she tried to go faster, groaning faintly every time she took him in to the hilt, but there was only so much she could do. She was almost relieved when he flipped them over and started fucking her in earnest with long deep strokes that she could just lay back and enjoy. Joe came first, driving deep into her with a groan, but Booker’s eager mouth was on her almost immediately, so she couldn’t complain.

Nicky, meanwhile, liked to be teased and strung out like no one she had ever seen. “Take your hand off,” Joe instructed her one time while she was stroking Nicky. “He’s about to come,” he explained and Nile looked confused. “Isn’t that sort of the point?” She had been assuming that sooner or later Nicky would spill into her fist. Joe just chuckled. “Oh, I never let him come the first time he gets close,” he told her, stroking a gentle hand down Nicky’s side. “He likes it when I bring him to the edge again and again before I finally let him slip over, makes everything that much better when he finally lets go.” Nile was sort of skeptical—Nicky gave a little wounded cry when she pulled her hand away from his length—but she let Joe set the pace, telling her when she could start stroking his husband again and when she had to stop. She would admit that when Nicky finally came with a cry, spilling all over her hand and a little up her arm, that it looked particularly intense.

Sex with Quynh was a little bit like a hurricane. Quynh was careful at the beginning, asking about boundaries and what Nile wanted, but once she started she was ruthless. Nile realised that pretty quickly, when their first time together just the two of them—well, sort of just the two of them, Booker was watching protectively from the corner of the room—Quynh had Nile trussed up, her arms tied to the headboard, her legs spread apart with each ankle tied to the foot of the bed, and a silk blindfold blocking Nile’s view. She liked the blindfold, it made everything a surprise, but having her legs tied apart was a sweet agony, making it impossible for her to squirm away when Quynh slid a vibrator through her folds right after Nile had come apart on her tongue. “You can come again for me, sweetheart,” Quynh encouraged, pressing the toy against Nile’s clit, and she thought distantly that if she died like this, at least it would be more pleasant than usual.

Her absolute favourite part of belonging to them, though, was the soft moments, the tight hug from Andy after they had been apart, the feeling of cuddling up to the others at night—Booker, she realised quickly, was an exceptional pillow—a little good morning kiss from Joe as he handed her her breakfast. Those stolen bursts of happiness all provoked the same reaction in her; they all made her feel at home.

Prompt here: https://theoldguardkinkmeme.dreamwidth.org/2487.html?thread=504247#cmt504247

It all started when Andy got her nipples pierced. She came back late one night and didn’t explain where she had been, but a few weeks later she was wearing a tight tank top and Booker could see the tell-tale outline of the piercings underneath it, and, well. Fuck. He had to quickly excuse himself from the kitchen to go jerk off, the thought of getting one of those piercings between his lips sending him over the edge in record time.

He clearly hadn’t been very discreet about it, because Andy cornered him the next night while all the others were out. It wasn’t the first time they had slept together, though it had been a while, and he had never let slip just how much he loved her breasts.

“You want to see?” She asked nonchalantly, and he nodded frantically. She didn’t bother taking her top all the way off, just pushed it down to bare her breasts to him, and he was all the way hard, just like that. “You can touch me,” she told him. “They’re healed, it’s fine,” and he wanted to so badly but he was almost frozen, he couldn’t decide what he was craving first. He rubbed his face between them at first, Andy hissing as his beard scraped against her skin, and then he started kissing along the curve of one of her breasts, his hands cupping the other worshipfully.

He took his time, as if he was trying to cover every inch of her breast with love, before he finally took her nipple between his lips, tongue swirling around the piercing, and she groaned, her hands twining in his hair to keep him there. “Mm, Book, that feels good,” she praised, eyes hooded as she watched him suckling at her. “More sensitive—ah! Do that again!—with the piercing.”

Booker was almost overwhelmed, felt like he could stay here forever latched onto her breast. The little gasps and whimpers she let slip as she luxuriated in the warm suction around her nipple were threatening to drive him insane. “Wish you could drink from me, your mouth feels so so good on me,” she said idly, and his cock twitched violently, because oh how he wanted that too, how he would enjoy lapping up little beads of milk, how he would enjoy suckling her until she was empty.

He pulled off reluctantly, only so that he could lavish her with the tender words she deserved. “I would be a happy man if I spent all our eternal lives buried between your beautiful breasts,” he confessed, and she gave him a fond smile. “I didn’t know you liked them so much, Sébastien, you’ve been holding out on me,” she teased.

He turned his attention to the breast he had been neglecting, trailing his fingers over the skin, mapping out the sensitive spots. There was a place on the side, just next to her ribs, that made her jerk when he stroked over it, and he did it again and again, fascinated.

She had started to squirm, a clear sign that she was becoming aroused as he worshipped her, and he wasn’t surprised when she unbuttoned her pants, slipping them and her panties down. “Booker, please,” she asked, and he had never been able to say no to her. He rubbed at her nipple once with the pad of his thumb, drawing a gasp from her as she felt his calloused finger gently abrading her, and then he trailed his hand down to slide two fingers into her.

He could still worship her with his mouth, and he rubbed his face against her breast again, nuzzling it happily before teasing the piercing with his tongue. She actually shouted when he tugged at it gently, grinding down against his fingers. “Fuck, Booker, you have no idea how that feels, holy hell.” He could tell that she liked this just as much as he did, because once his lips sealed around her nipple again and his thumb started tracing slow circles around her clit, it didn’t take her long at all to come, shuddering against him.

He felt as if he was about to spill untouched himself, was about to just reach down and stroke himself off quickly while he still had his lips on her breast, when she got a devious look in her eye. “You can fuck me here, if you want,” she offered, pressing her breasts together to give him a tight channel to find his pleasure in, and he gaped at her in absolute awe before he scrambled to get his clothes off and line himself up.

He wished he could draw this out, but the feeling of her warm skin against his throbbing length and the sight of his cock peeking between her breasts was too much, and he only managed a few thrusts before he was spilling against her chest.

“Holy shit,” he gasped out as he moved to lay next to her, panting. “We definitely have to do that again,” she said with a smile, leaning in to kiss him softly once before she went to clean up.

prompt:
https://theoldguardkinkmeme.dreamwidth.org/2487.html?thread=490935#cmt490935

doodle fill:
https://archiveofourown.org/works/25882927/chapters/64053379

Prompt: https://theoldguardkinkmeme.dreamwidth.org/953.html?thread=25273#cmt25273

Nicky and Booker were grappling together in the garden while Joe leaned against the fence, watching. This was a rare treat, actually, because usually he was the one to spar with Nicky in their free time. He loved that, too, loved the physicality of it. He almost never got to just relax and watch Nicky tussling with someone, not to save their lives but just for fun.

He was distracted admiring his husband’s muscles when Nicky pinned Booker to the ground with a triumphant shout, holding Booker’s wrists above his head, his body flush against their teammate’s, and Joe might not have noticed even then if he hadn’t been so intimately familiar with what it felt like to have Nicky’s weight above him, how delicious a feeling it was.

Booker is trying hard to hide it, but it’s the subtle tells that give him away, the strained look on his face, the way he can’t meet Nicky’s eyes, the way he shifts his hips ever so slightly, and oh. Well, then. Joe leans back more against the wooden fence and tries to think about how feels about this revelation.

There’s one thing for sure—he doesn’t feel threatened in the slightest. He knows Nicolo’s heart inside out, and their relationship is more than strong enough to invite someone else into their bed from time to time, or for one of them to have a night’s dalliance if the mood strikes them. They don’t do it often, maybe once every twenty or thirty years, but it’s never been a problem and it never will be.

Booker, though....He honestly had never thought about the other man that way, had always considered him a cherished teammate, a brother even. But he can’t deny that it’s an attractive picture, watching him stretched out under Nicky like that, and suddenly he wants them to kiss with a ferocity that surprises him.

He sees the moment that Nicky picks up on it, when he shifts his hips and feels Booker hard underneath him, and he locks eyes with his husband, silently conveying that he’s alright with this if Nicky is, that he wants to see them come together.

Nicky rolls his hips down against Booker, slowly and deliberately, and Booker yelps, trying to twist away, but the movement just brings his erection in contact with Nicky’s thigh, and Booker can’t stifle a groan at the brief friction.

His cheeks are scarlet, and he begins to stammer out apologies before Nicky cuts him off with a kiss, and oh yes, they make just as pretty a picture as Joe had imagined. Booker is shocked at first, but quickly kisses back, and Nicky smiles against his lips. “Joe and I don’t mind helping you out,” Nicky tells him, gently, and Booker’s eyes are wide, like he can’t believe this is happening. “What do you want?” He asked and Booker moans, hips jerking up. “Anything, Nicky, honestly, anything—“

Nicky hums in thought, pressing a kiss to Booker’s jaw. “What do you think, Joe?” Joe moves a little closer to them, ponders what he would like to see. “Have you ever been fucked, Sébastien?” He asks and the other man gives a little wounded cry. “Yes, in the army, sometimes. It’s been so long though.” Joe nods. “I’d love to see it, I don’t often get to see my Nicolo opening someone else up with his cock.”

Nicky shoots Joe a look full of heat, and mouths at Booker’s neck while he pulls the other man’s shirt over his head, reluctantly letting go of Booker’s wrists to do so. He gets up briefly in order to let Booker take off his pants before he climbs back on top of him, bracketing him with his body, and there’s something about the sight of Booker nude underneath Nicky who’s still fully clothed that gets Joe hot.

“Joe, do you have—“but Joe already knows what he needs, the little foil packets of lube that he keeps around in case he and Nicky are feeling unexpectedly frisky—a fairly regular occurrence—and tosses it to him. “Thank you, my heart,” Nicky murmurs, chewing on his lip in concentration as he eases the first slick finger into Booker.

He really takes his time, since he knows how long it’s been since Booker did this, slowly jacking Booker’s cock with one hand while he opens him up with the other. Booker couldn’t hide his wince at first, but it’s long since gone and he’s pushing back against Nicky’s fingers and pushing forward into the hand around his cock, and Joe’s achingly hard as he watches them.

“I’m ready, Nicky, please,” Booker begs and Nicky nods, scissoring his fingers one last time. As if he knows what it’s doing to Joe, he doesn’t bother to get undressed, just pulls his cock out, jacking himself a few times with the lube. Nicky and Booker both groan as he pushes in, and Sébastien moves his legs so that they’re wrapped around Nicky’s waist, letting Nicky slide deeper into him.

“Santa Maria, Joe,” Nicky curses as he bottoms out. “He’s so tight I can barely move, feels like a velvet glove around my cock.” He gives an experimental thrust, just barely pulling out, and groans again. “Oh that feels good, I don’t know how I’m going to last any time at all.”

Booker laughs, his voice strained. “Neither will I, Nicky, fuck you feel huge.” He knows, intellectually that he isn’t, he saw Nicky’s cock and it was about average, but it’s been so long that the length in him feels enormous, like it’s splitting him open.

Booker goes wild when Nicky starts moving in earnest, making little mewls and fisting his fingers in Nicky’s shirt. “Nicky, Nicky, Nicky,” he repeats like it’s a prayer, like it’s the only thought he’s capable of putting together, and maybe it is. Joe knows what that’s like, has been so thoroughly wrecked by Nicky countless times over the centuries.

Nicky hikes one of Booker’s thighs up a bit to adjust the angle, and Joe knows instantly that he’s hitting Booker’s prostate dead on now from the look of awe on Booker’s face, the way he can’t seem to draw enough breath even to moan. He’s reduced to just gasping against Nicky’s lips, holding onto Nicky’s back for dear life, and Joe isn’t surprised when Booker only makes it through a couple thrusts like that before he spills over his belly. Some of it gets on Nicky’s shirt, Joe notices, and somehow that’s unexpectedly hot too.

Nicky isn’t far behind, Joe can tell, because he knows all of Nicky’s tells, the way he’s biting his lip to try and stifle his moans—a habit born out of decades without much privacy for them to make love in—and the way he’s losing his rhythm, snapping his hips more jerkily. He clutches Booker harder when he comes, but his eyes are on Joe, as they almost always are.

Booker seems to be lost in a sea of bliss as Nicky spills in him, but it fades quickly, and his brow starts to furrow when Nicky pulls out, and he looks over at Joe. “I want you to know, I wasn’t trying to—I mean, I know that you guys are—I didn’t expect to get turned on while we were sparring—“ and Joe has to cut him off with a fond laugh. “It’s okay, Booker. I know you weren’t trying to seduce my Nicolo,” he teases. “I get it, he’s absurdly hot when he’s fighting.”

Booker looks relieved, and then his eyes dip lower, and oh yes, there’s the pretty visible evidence that Joe didn’t mind watching them. “When I was in the army, I also used my mouth on my comrades sometimes,” Booker ventures, and, well. Joe isn’t going to say no to that.

Threaded | Flat

Page 6 of 15

Fill: Keep This Between Us (Nicky/Joe - Undercover, Outsider POV [Grey's Anatomy crossover], 1/2)

FILL: Joe/Nicky, A/B/O, Oral Knotting/Mouth Knotting

Fill: Andy/Booker, Booker is a secret omega

FILL: Nicky/Joe, told to shut up

FILL: nobody's perfect: team & Joe/Nicky, dumb/mundane weaknesses

Fill: it felt like i was alive again, joe x nicky (ritual sex to restore lost immortality)

FILLED: discipline in the workplace (Joe/Nicky, Vibrating buttplug)

Fill: Andy/Booker, oral sex, phone sex

It Hurts Until It Doesn't - Joe/Nicky hurt + comfort, oral as reassurance

FILL: Minutes, Hours, Days (Joe/Nicky, Chastity Kink)

Fill: Pillow Talk (Joe/Nicky, body pillow)

Fill: Nicolò/Yusuf + others - oral sex

Fill: Booker + Joe/Nicky, Oblivious

A Soft Touch: Nicky/Joe, Super Soft Skin, 5+1

Fill: Quynh/Joe, Voyeurism, Fucking for their partners' benefit

Posted for author: FILL: Joe/Nicky, Nicky/Keane + Keane Slaps Nicky In Front Of Everyone

Fill: Joe/Booker, service top, praise kink

FILL (again!): Joe/Nicky, Nicky/Keane + Keane Slaps Nicky In Front Of Everyone

FILL: Heartbreakers Gonna Break (Joe/Nicky, Porn AU) [1/2]

Posted for author: FILL: Nile and her mom, gen, future fic

Posted for author: FILL: Nicky/Joe, Nicky struggles with Catholicism and his relationship with Joe

Fill: All/Nile, introducing the newest immortal into their poly group

Fill: Booker/Andy, breast worship

Joe/Nicky, one of them gets turned into a cat

Fill: Booker/Joe/Nicky, sparring leads to sex