theoldguardkinkmeme | Fills Post

https://archiveofourown.org/works/26509348

Fill for the Keane/Merrick prompt

Prompt here: https://theoldguardkinkmeme.dreamwidth.org/2998.html?thread=758454#cmt758454

Fill here: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26515744

fill: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26517511

prompt: https://theoldguardkinkmeme.dreamwidth.org/2726.html?thread=573862#cmt573862

this turned more into soft body worship WHOOPS

Honestly I could write a thousand sequels of this, this is just such a great idea! If you have more ideas, I could think about a follow up 😂

Prompt here: https://theoldguardkinkmeme.dreamwidth.org/2998.html?thread=871350#cmt871350

“I can pick anything?” Nile asked, a little incredulous, and Booker laughed. “I mean, anything that’s on the list that Joe showed us earlier,” he clarified, and she shot him an unimpressed look, like, obviously. “And Joe has veto rights, but yeah, pretty much.” He scuffed his feet, looking over at the sight of Nicky on his knees in the middle of the room, hands already bound behind his back and Andy’s request, looking blissfully up at Joe, and Nile hummed, considering.

“I wish you would let him suck you, but not until you come,” Nile decided, and Joe quirked a brow at her. “I think we can manage that,” he replied, and unzipped his dark jeans to take his cock out, and nobody missed how Nicky perked up at the sight, his mouth watering. Joe rubbed the head of his cock over Nicky’s lips, groaning as Nicky’s tongue flicked out to lap up a bead of precome that was gathering at the tip. “You want this, darling?” he asked, and Nicky moaned and nodded, and Joe rewarded him by feeding him his cock, inch by slow inch.

When he was fully seated, he sighed, enjoying the feeling of Nicky’s mouth surrounding him for a moment, and then he glanced over at Nile. “How do you want me to take him, sister?” He asked, helplessly giving a few little thrusts into that wet warmth. “Slowly at first,” Nile decided. “Let him show you his skill, try and make him feel good. Then you can fuck his mouth later.”

“Mm, and pull on his hair,” Andy suggested dreamily, eyes never leaving Nicky, pretty and pleased in the centre of their circle. Joe nodded, starting shallow thrusts and pulling lightly at Nicky’s hair. “Pleasure me, my heart,” he demanded, and Nicky clearly did his best to comply, bobbing up and down on Joe’s familiar length, licking at what were evidently sensitive spots to earn a moan out of Joe, swiping his tongue over the leaking head, and Andy lost her patience fairly quickly. “Take him like you mean it, Joe, let him choke on it,” she requested, and it might have sounded harsh but Nicky went wild for it, his wrists twisting in their bonds, his cock twitching hard, and he sat back a bit, just holding Joe’s length loosely in his mouth, offering Joe his throat to make use of, and how could Joe say no to that?

“Oh, that’s such a good boy,” Joe praised as he started fucking Nicky’s mouth in earnest, tugging roughly on his hair. “Your mouth, hayati, I could write poems about it, your pretty petal lips,” and of course he was still a diehard romantic even while he was making Nicky gag around his length. “‘Mm, the way you take all of me, oh that feels good, my heart, swallow around me again, that’s right—“ his own head was thrown back as he enjoyed Nicky’s mouth, until he blinked back to reality, suddenly very aware that he was close.

“Mm, I need to come, where do you want me to?” And it was Nile he was asking, really, because she had been the one to say that he shouldn’t let Nicky suck him to completion, but it was Booker who answered. “Come on his face, in his pretty eyes,” he said, and Nicky groaned at the filthiness of it. Nile looked stunned and very turned on, and shrugged. “I mean. I was going to say on his neck or chest or something, but damn, that works too,” and Joe pulled out, desperately hard, loving the way that Nicky whined and tried to chase after his length. “You did this to me, my love,” he said as he wrapped a hand around his cock and stripped himself fast, pointed right at Nicky’s face. “You always make me desire you, know just how to please me—oh, my beloved, my only heart, oh yes—“ and he spilled into his hand and in long thick spurts across Nicky’s forehead, and yes, into his eyes. Nicky’s eyes instinctively fluttered closed after a moment, but Joe’s release still spattered his eyelids and clumped in his eyelashes.

Nile had had ideas about how Joe could get Nicky off afterwards, but Nicky simply seized up and came, untouched, at the feeling of Joe’s release on his skin, and the others watched, captivated.

“Damn,” Andy interjected, eyes locked on how Nicky’s own eyes blinked, slowly, amidst the filth and Booker groaned. “That is very sexy but cannot possibly be hygienic,” Nile huffed, already bustling off to get a wet washcloth to clean Nicky’s face with, and Joe laughed, warm and fond, his fingers scratching lightly at Nicky’s scalp. “I’m glad you’re with us, little sister. You’re just what we needed.”

Prompt: https://theoldguardkinkmeme.dreamwidth.org/2487.html?thread=467383#cmt467383

Joe was the one who had asked for this, weeks earlier, was the one who had told Nicky he would like it if it was a surprise—when exactly it was happening, anyway. Even so, it was still a shock when he came home and kissed Nicky hello and Nicky just motioned to the patch of floor at his feet. “My darling,” Nicky said mock sternly, and Joe had to stifle a smile because Nicky tried so hard to be stern when they did any kind of role play but he was just hopelessly romantic. “You haven’t been a very good slut lately, have you?” he asked and Joe groaned, shifting forward to nose at Nicky’s thigh.

“I’ve been busy,” Joe argued, and Nicky just ran his fingers through his husband’s curls, tugging lightly. “Well, tonight I want you to make time for all our friends,” he admonished. “Want you to put that pretty mouth to good use, and if you do a good job then I’ll have you later,” he announced, not missing the way that Joe’s hips twitched at the thought.

Only then, once he was confident that Joe was onboard, did Nicky turn his attention to their teammates, who had been watching avidly. “So,” he asked. “Who wants to go first?”

He shouldn’t have been surprised that it was Andy, with her quiet efficiency. She unbuttoned her jeans, dropped her pants a bit, not bothering to get fully undressed, and stood above Joe, legs spread just enough. “You think you can still please a woman?” She asked, even though she already knew the answer to that.

“Please,” Joe murmured, licking his lips. “Please let me have you, boss,” and Andy moved forward just enough that Joe could lick up into her folds, and she sighed happily.

“Mm, I still don’t know why you’re so good at that,” she commented, bemused, even as she rolled her hips, not worried about finesse or tenderness but just wanting to get off as soon as possible. “Don’t move, stay right there, just like that, oh just like that is perfect,” she urged, fingers curling around the back of his neck as she moved against his face. She wasn’t letting him do much but sit there with his tongue available for her pleasure, but it didn’t seem to make a difference for either of them. Her thighs were already trembling, and Joe looked like he was in heaven, like he could happily spend their eternal lives with her crushing his mouth against her cunt. He thought for one brief moment he might suffocate when she came, holding him tightly against her as she shuddered and smeared her wetness over his beard and chin, and he mused idly that he wouldn’t mind too much. “Lovely as usual, Joe,” Andy remarked as she stepped away, casually pulling up her pants and fastening them as if nothing had happened, and he looked around a little desperately, already searching for his next task.

His eagerness wasn’t lost on Nicky, who chuckled and pressed a fond kiss to the top of Joe’s head. “Such a slut,” he remarked, and if the words might be harsh his tone was anything but. “You just had your mouth on Andy and you’re already craving being used again,” and Joe just nodded, because, well, it was true. “Book,” Nicky decided, calling the other man over. “To switch things up a bit.”

Quynh was there, watching, curled in Andy’s arms, but she didn’t participate in these things yet, not since she had come back to them. Joe dreamed of the day she would be ready again, mouth watering at the possibility of pleasing her again like he had for hundreds of years before she had been taken away from them. In the meantime, he had Booker to focus on, that lovely thick cock that he knew almost as intimately as Nicky’s. Nicky’s cock would always be his favourite, of course, but Booker was a little bit thicker, the head plump and red, and for some reason he was always wetter than Nicky, dripping as soon as he got hard.

Joe loved it, let Booker’s cock bob against his cheek and leave white streaks of precome there while he nosed at the other man’s balls, sucking first one then the other into his mouth and laving over them lovingly. Booker didn’t seem to have any complaints, thrusting his hips forward to drag the tip of his cock through Joe’s beard and arching his back as Joe’s tongue found a sensitive spot on his sack, but Nicky was clearly impatient. “Come on, Joe,” he urged, tugging at Joe’s hair and dragging a groan from him. “Suck his cock already,” and Joe let Booker’s balls slip from his lips with a little whimper, shifted up to lap at the precome beading in Booker’s slit, and the other man let loose with a long set of curses in French. “Joe, Joe, please, your mouth, s’il te plait,” he begged, and Joe gave him what he wanted, sucking him down with all his centuries of practice. It was clear that Booker wasn’t going to last long, was already throbbing on Joe’s tongue, but he let Joe take the lead, let him bob up and down his length and swirl his tongue around the leaking tip, until his hips jerked and he spilled in Joe’s mouth with a low groan, thrusting a few times as he rode it out. “So good,” he praised, patting Joe’s cheek a little awkwardly as the other man pulled off his length with a wet slurp. “Let me see,” Nicky demanded, and Joe obediently opened his mouth to show that he was still holding Booker’s release on his tongue, and Nicky grinned, teeth flashing, and stroked a finger across Joe’s lips. “You can swallow,” he decided, and laid his fingers on Joe’s throat, right at his Adam’s apple, so that he could feel the muscles working as Joe complied. “Bet you wish we had more members of the team, don’t you? So you could please all of them, so that they all could spill their loads in your pretty mouth,” and Joe jerked, pressing into Nicky’s touch. “Go take care of Nile, my love,” Nicky encouraged, “then I am all yours.”

Nile was lounging on the bed, stripped to just her underwear, a pretty red lace set that set Joe’s blood racing, brought a light flush to his cheeks. “You are a goddess,” he told her, ignoring Andy’s grumble of “hey, that’s me!” and traced his fingers up her thigh. Where Andy couldn’t care less about foreplay, just wanted to use Joe to bring herself over the edge as quickly and as often as possible, Nile was the polar opposite. She thrived on the gentle touches that Joe so loved to bestow, the slow burn he enjoyed stoking. “A shining vision,” Joe continued, bending to nip at the sensitive skin of her inner thigh, kissing higher and higher until he nosed at the lace. He didn’t push it aside at first, but licked at her through the fabric, lapping at her until the lace was sopping wet and she was letting such delicious whimpers and moans fall from her lips.

“Joe, please, please touch me,” and he chuckled against her, tugging gently at the wet fabric of her panties with his teeth. “I am touching you, my heart,” he replied cheekily, and she groaned. “Touch me properly,” she insisted, and he never liked to make her beg for long. He pushed the panties aside, just enough that he could swipe his tongue properly through her folds, and he stopped teasing and devoted himself to helping her find her peak. He slid a finger into her at one point, knew that she liked that, and moved his mouth up to suck on her clit, flicking it gently with his tongue and soaking up the sounds she made as she got closer. “Joe, Joe, Joe,” she repeated like a chant, and he redoubled his efforts, crooking his finger to rub at her where she was particularly sensitive, and she screamed when she came, legs tightening around his head to hold him there until she had stopped shaking. “Thank you,” she murmured, always a little embarrassed after he had made her come apart, and he pressed a last kiss to her folds and slid her panties back into place.

His eyes were wide, his breathing a little ragged, when he turned his head around to look at Nicky. “Please, cuore mio, I tried my best to please them,” and Nicky bestowed a gentle smile upon him. “You did well, my heart, I loved hearing how they screamed with all the pleasure you brought them. Now let me treasure you,” he murmured, his fingers trailing down to rub at Joe’s entrance, teasing.

Joe’s head was still pillowed on Nile’s thigh, and he moaned into her skin as Nicky started to open him up. “Nicky, just fuck me,” he urged, pushing back into Nicky’s questing fingers as much as possible. “You need to be ready, my darling,” Nicky insisted. “We haven’t done this for a few days, you’re still tight.” He cocked his head, thinking. “Now that’s a nice idea, instead of you just using your mouth on our teammates, we could have them fuck you on a regular basis so you were always open for me,” and Joe mouthed at Nile’s thigh to stifle his moan at the thought.

He didn’t miss the way she shifted slightly under him, and he met her eyes with a grin. “Again? Can I?” She and Nicky both laughed, Nicky swatting playfully at Joe’s ass while he was still working on opening him up. “You’re insatiable, cuore,” he teased, but Joe didn’t care because Nile was nodding. He slid her underwear all the way off this time, not wanting anything in his way, and buried his face between her thighs just as Nicky deemed him prepared and pushed in.

It wasn’t the best head Joe had ever given, he couldn’t exactly focus while Nicky was pounding into him with all the pent up desire of having watched Joe service all of their teammates, but he did his best, licking enthusiastically into Nile and moaning against her whenever Nicky would brush against his prostate. Nile came a half a minute before Joe, the two of them clinging to each other as they trembled through the aftershocks, and it only took a few more thrusts before Nicky spilled inside his husband, babbling praise in some long forgotten language that even Joe only half remembered.

When Nicky pulled out, Joe flopped on the bed next to Nile, exhausted, and Andy chuckled, playing with Quynh’s hair as she watched. “Too much for you, Joe?” She asked with a grin, and he managed to wink at her. “Never, boss.”

Prompt here: https://theoldguardkinkmeme.dreamwidth.org/2487.html?thread=436663#cmt436663. Planning to write at least a little more of this, with Nile getting in on the action, but here’s the first bit.

***

Nile picks up on Joe and Nicky’s bond right away, because their scents are so thoroughly mingled that it’s a while before she can pick out which is Joe’s (warm and a little spicy, like citrus and cardamom), and which is Nicky’s (colder and subtler, with a hint of something like frankincense). When they bed down for the night, she’s not surprised to see the casually possessive way Joe nuzzles into the back of Nicky’s neck, or the way Nicky lets out a blissful sigh and goes limp in Joe's arms when he does it.

If they've been mated for even a portion of the centuries they've known each other, Nile can only imagine the strength of their bond. She feels a little tug of not-quite-jealousy low in her belly, thinking about it. Nile's been on suppressants since basic training, the same as most unmated alphas and omegas in the armed forces, and anyway if she's honest, the idea of finding an omega to bond with has always struck her as a little old-fashioned and restrictive. But looking at Nicky and Joe, the way Joe holds Nicky and the peace on both their faces, she can admit that yeah, she'd like to have something like that someday.

She starts picking up on the fact that things are a little more complicated while she's getting them out of Merrick's lab. At first it's what she expects: Joe and Nicky go to each other as soon as they're off the gurneys, before they reach for weapons or even shirts. Nicky buries his face in the curve of Joe's neck and Joe runs his hands over every part of Nicky he can reach, driving away the scent of strange, unfriendly hands on him and the cold, clinical smells of the lab. But then Nicky breaks away from Joe and goes to Andy, holding a hand out to her, and she pulls him into a quick, fierce hug, squeezing the back of his neck and whispering something in his ear.

Then Nicky lets go of Andy and takes a step toward Booker, only to catch himself and stop short even before Joe calls his name in the sternest tone Nile's heard him use in the short time they've known each other. Nicky and Booker look at each other; there's a flash of something wounded in Nicky's face before he closes off, his jaw tightening and his eyes going cold, and Nile didn't think Booker could look more abjectly miserable than he already does, but apparently she was wrong.

So, there's clearly something going on here, but they've got a job to finish and a getaway to make before Nile can pay it any mind.

The next surprise comes while they’re deciding the price of Booker’s betrayal. Nicky pushes for a long exile just as strongly as Joe does—a necessary penance, he calls it—but then he looks out at where Booker’s waiting on their decision and says “I should go to him. Just for a moment.”

“Absolutely not,” Joe says in the same tone he used in the lab, and Nile sees Nicky’s hackles rise a little and Andy glance between the two of them warily. Alpha and omega or no, Nile gets the impression that Joe outright commanding Nicky like this is not exactly an everyday occurrence.

"Joe," Nicky says steadily. "Don't think I'm not just as furious with him. But he's still one of my alphas, and he's going to be alone for a century. Let me tell him goodbye properly."

Joe huffs unhappily, but offers no further protest, and when Nicky puts a hand on his he squeezes tight for a second before letting go.

As Nicky walks out to Booker, Andy looks over at Nile. "Well, go on, ask us."

"...Okay, so you're all Nicky's alphas?" Nile bursts out, finally giving in to her curiosity. "How's that even work?"

"Usually with a lot of trust and communication," Joe says. "Which makes what Booker did particularly awful. You know Nicky's blaming himself for this, right?" That last part is directed more at Andy than Nile, Joe turning toward her with his shoulders hunched. "He thinks he wasn't a good enough omega to Booker, that he should have picked up on something in his scent and known this was coming."

Andy shakes her head with a resigned look. "If he should have noticed something in Book's scent, so should we." To Nile, she goes on, "Nicky's our only omega. Joe's his mate, the rest of us never could or would interfere with that bond. But I never bonded with anyone else after we lost Quynh, and Booker never bonded with anyone else after his wife died. It...it gets hard. Lonely."

"Not to mention that reliable suppressants have only been a thing since about the Victorian age," Joe adds. "So Nicky's mine, and I'm his, but he's been there for Andy and Booker, too, when they've needed him."

Nile glances out the window, where Booker now has Nicky in a tight embrace. Booker's saying something, and Nile thinks she makes out "so sorry" and "not your fault" before he buries his face in Nicky's hair and breathes deep. The line of Nicky's body is tight, like he can't relax into Booker's arms the way he might have once, but he still lets Book hold him and nuzzle him for a long moment before he pulls away.

Nile's never seen or heard of an omega with multiple alphas before, but it seems like this works for them. Or at least like it was working for them.

Nicky rejoins Joe and Nile as Andy goes to say her goodbyes, and Nile can see Joe's nose wrinkle at the lingering traces of Booker's scent on him. He doesn't say anything, just holds out an arm and, when Nicky nestles into his side, gets to work rubbing his own scent back into Nicky's face and neck and hands.

Reposting in the correct place - fill for this prompt (https://theoldguardkinkmeme.dreamwidth.org/1106.html?thread=174418&posted=1#cmt885842)

"Nicky gets sexually assaulted by one of the guards while in the lab but nobody knows about it. They kill the man responsible during the escape anyway. Up to the writer how bad the assault was.

Nicky doesn’t say a word of it to anyone, especially Joe, decides to deal with it by himself. He makes a slow recovery but then the team decides to re-admit Booker believing that they need to be there for him. Nicky is against it because seeing Booker is triggering to him but the rest outvotes him. He gets into fights with Joe over it but is scared to lose him, so eventually gives up"

"I do not know this man," Joe's voice rings with sorrow and conviction both. "Where is my Nicky with his heart large enough to encompass the whole world?"

Nile and Andy do not speak but their expressions are eloquent. Nicky is alone. Again. He licks his lips, tastes the gunmetal and the face that flickers behind his blink is barely human. Nicky raises his hands and lowers his gaze. He cannot look at Booker though the other man's presence takes all the air from his lungs. Nicky feels his stomach clench.

He spends the night on his knees, praying softly to the Virgin Mother for forgiveness. He keeps his gun by his side and every sound makes his heart leap within his chest. His thoughts are a tangle of memory and fear. It has been a very long time since Nicky was afraid. He fears the seconds after Joe dies every time but that is a fleeting thing. He fears Andy's mortality and fears for Nile's innocence but those are comfortable fears. Nicky trusts his love. Andy said herself that life had become wearisome and Nile is a good woman who knows there is evil and does not let it enter her heart.

Nicky is the softest of them. The weakest.

Two hundred years as a brother, erased utterly by the actions of a wicked man and seven words, spoken in anger.

"Couldn't last an hour away from Joe?"

Nicky is weak. Nicky has been loved for so long by the best man that God ever created that he had forgotten how easily sex can be turned to cruelty. He sees the man's face, twisted to reveal the monster beneath behind his eyelids every time he blinks. His body has healed but the memory lingers like the scars that would have remained for a mortal man. Nicky hears the voices in the silence and he cannot bear even Joe's touch.

He rises from his knees stiffly and makes breakfast for the others. He does not make the omelette that he would have made for Booker before Merrick. Booker comes to the table and his face falls. Joe shakes his head reprovingly.

"You are better than this," he chides Nicky as he crosses behind him to take his place at the stove. "Such childishness!"

Nicky grits his teeth and edges to the door, keeping the table between him and Booker. Nile looks at him with reproach in her eyes. Andy studies him over the rim of her cup. Nicky does not give them the chance to speak. He goes upstairs, takes out the rifle he keeps there and addresses himself to cleaning it. Most of his knighthood has fallen away but Nicky still finds comfort in the routine.

The following days are as close an approximation of Hell as Nicky can imagine.

The irony is enough to bring laughter to his lips but Nicky swallows it down. He has lived for a thousand years. He has seen every war that mankind has promised will be the last. He has seen humans twisted into demons by hate and fear. He has died by every method man can concieve of and suffered a hundred lifetimes worth of torture. This too shall pass.

It was passing, Nicky knows. He might not see the beauty that Joe sees in his mirror but he has drawn the eye and the ire of men who desire to dominate other men. It is rare. Joe does not usually allow them to be seperated.

Nicky still knows what to do when it happens. He cannot add to Joe's hurt; his love burns with every bruise on Nicky's too-tender skin. Nicky prays, makes his pain an offering to the All-Mighty and stays a little closer, where Joe's warmth can banish the chill of crueler hands.

Nicky cannot seek comfort with Joe. His love is too busy with Booker and Nicky cannot bear to be in the same room for more than minutes at a time. He cannot look at Booker's face without hearing the taunts of the men.

What did you tell them? Nicky rages when their eyes catch over maps or new supplies. How much did you tell them? How much were you watching over all those decades we spent together? How much did you listen to in those nights that Joe and I thought we were alone in the world?

He says nothing.

Joe's eyes are filled with sorrow and his love touches him only at night, in the dark as if they were back in the ignorant days when two men who loved each other were a dangerous thing to be. Andy frowns at him and her voice takes on an edge that cuts him to the marrow. She is disappointed in him. Her orders get crisper every time Nicky balks at Booker's presence. She does not understand why Nicky flinches every time Booker moves.

"We agreed," Andy tells him when they wait in the car for the others to finish in a warehouse of stolen drugs. "He's family."

"Si," Nicky's voice catches in his throat. "Yes."

"You can't keep punishing him," Andy says sharply. "Joe and I have forgiven him."

So you have no grounds to complain. Nicky hears it as clearly as if she had spoken it. He wavers, all his pain and fear bubbling up, but Andy's expression is hard as marble and her eyes are pitiless. Nicky cannot find the words in the face of Andromache of Scythia. Andy might love her younger brothers and offer them comfort but she is also an expert at triage. Mercy for those in sorest need. Expectations for the rest.

It is Nile who wounds him most.

She follows Nicky out of the safehouse after an argument with Joe threatened to become physical violence for the first time in nearly eight hundred years. Joe is afire with righteousness. Nicky is nearly hysterical at the idea that while Nicky was struggling to put the broken pieces of him back together, Joe had been calling Booker. Nicky goes to the local church and she finds him on his knees before a statue of the Baptist with his well-worn rosary in his hands. Nile sits with him in a nearby pew. She talks to him earnestly while Nicky struggles not to hyperventilate.

"I just," she touches the cross that she still wears around her neck. "You told me that you were still Christian. That means forgiveness, you know? Turn the other cheek?"

"I know," Nicky says. "Spiacente, Nile. I will do better."

He had followed his God and his Faith to the edge of the known world. Nicky does what he must; he pushes all the fear and the pain down. He does what his love expects of him. He does not flinch when Booker speaks to him. He does not rush to finish the mission so he can breathe without those mournful eyes on him. He does what he is told to do.

It is hard. Harder than abandoning his faith. Harder than walking the streets of Genoa as a stranger. Harder than reading the small brass plate in the church that told of his brother's death from the plague. Nicky endures but he has no appetite for food. He cannot soften his heart for fear of what will come pouring out. He sleeps poorly so he sleeps for longer. He learns not to need Joe's arms around him. He trains with Nile, teaches her what he can and puts his focus into the missions.

Nicky is still only a man.

He does not go with Booker into situations where he must die. Nicky's strength is a brittle thing and Death will shatter it. If Nicky wakes with Booker there, he will scream until his throat is bloody and he dies again. If Nicky starts to scream, he does not think that he will ever stop.

What hurts most, Nicky thinks in the dead hours of the early morning when he is the only one awake, is that no-one notices.

Joe is still devoting the greater part of his time to easing the pain that made Booker betray them. He does not seek to touch Nicky beyond the occasional kiss and his arms around Nicky at night. Andy sees only that they are functional. Perhaps she is preoccupied with her new mortality? Perhaps she too is concerned with healing Booker's pain. Nile does not know him so Nile does not know that Nicky is not usually so quiet nor so reserved. She is kind. Nicky wishes she would stop. Her kindness makes his precarious control fray like a torn shirt and Nicky cannot afford to unravel.

Two years after Booker returns to them, Copley meets with the team.

Nicky has not seen him since Merrick. There has not been a need. Andy and Joe are the strategists. Nile is the expert in the modern technologies. Nicky has been the unruly child, kept away from the mortals. He has not fought his punishment. He cannot spare the energy to care for such a trifling insult. His heart is shattered already. Does it matter if it is in two pieces or a thousand? Nicky follows Nile to the meeting and stays on his feet with his hood drawn to shadow his face.

Copley hands the information over to Nile but his eyes stray to Nicky after every other sentence. Once he loses track of his tongue and apologizes to Nile. Nile waves it off but she starts looking back at Nicky too. Nicky does not wonder why. He is too busy cataloguing how long the mission will take. Joe wants to take Booker to the Louvre. There is an exhibit of Napoleanic art, Nicky dimly recalls. He returns to the present moment when Copley rises to his feet.

Nicky pushes off the wall. Nile is collecting the pages Copley printed for them. She is taking longer than she should. Nicky does not get a chance to ponder long. Copley stops in front of him. No, Copley stops three feet away from Nicky. Well outside the boundaries of Nicky's personal space. The hand that reaches towards Nicky's wrist falters and Copley pats his forearm instead.

"I wanted to talk to you, actually," Copley says, looking over his shoulder at Nile.

The man is as subtle as a brick to the face. A part of Nicky thinks that it is just as well that he practices his deceit from behind a computer screen. He has too honest a face for treachery. Nicky inclines his head and Nile makes a show of getting to her feet and stepping past them to the door.

"I wanted..." Copley wrings his hands. Nicky blinks at him. There is anguish on the man's face. "I wanted to tell you in person."

"Si?" Nicky is lost.

"The, uh, the 'footage'," Copley says, spitting the word like a curse. "That Merrick's thugs took?"

Nicky does not understand for a long second. Then he remembers; a face lit by a screen: a laugh he could only see because all he could hear was the grunting of the men who pinned him down. His legs almost fail him, he reaches blindly for the wall.

"I destroyed it," Copley says in a rush, hands hovering like he wants to catch Nicky but doesn't dare to touch him. "All of it. I burned the backup discs myself."

"Grazie," Nicky manages. He cannot force English from his tongue. He is shaking now.

"I don't know," Copley looks as anguished as Nicky feels. "I don't know what to do. I could find you a therapist? Or a counselor?"

"Is nothing," Nicky says. He can't breathe. He needs to get out of here. He needs to go. (He needs Joe, his broken heart wails.)

"No-one else saw it," Copley says. "I didn't watch it. Not past the first minute. I saw your face and..."

Nicky shakes his head. "It does not matter. I should have fought better, that is all."

"There were five of them!" Copley half-shouts then falters as Nicky flinches back. "You might be immortal, Nicólo. You're not invulnerable."

"It does not matter," Nicky repeats. His eyes sting. His chest is tight.

"I don't know how you forgave him," Copley says and Nicky's laugh is a broken thing. "I would have killed him."

"Waste of effort," Nicky says. "He did not..."

"He just told them about you," Copley says with all the steel Nicky could wish for. "I heard some of what they said. They knew how to hurt you."

Nicky's legs fail him. He struggles to breathe. There is a wet, miserable lump in his throat. Like a stone forced past the muscle. Nicky thinks he will be sick. He cannot think. He cannot hold himself together. He hears his name. Copley's voice becomes Nile's. He hears Andy. Nicky tries to force the lump back. He tries to stand. He tries to open his eyes and he cannot. All he can hear is those men and Copley's words repeating on a loop. He cannot scream past the lump in his throat.

"Nicky! Nicky!" Joe's voice cuts through the panic. "Nicky! Habibi! Breathe!"

The voice that vibrates against his cheek is as familiar as his own breath and the arms that catch him up are as close to paradise as can be found on this sinful Earth. Nicky's failing control shatters and he howls against his love's chest. Time loses meaning. All Nicky knows is that Joe is there. He is safe.

Prompt: https://theoldguardkinkmeme.dreamwidth.org/2998.html?thread=831926#cmt831926

Five Times Joe Kissed Someone Who Wasn’t Nicky (and one time he kissed Nicky)

1. “Guy on your two o’clock – I think he’s made you,” Nile said, into her headpiece. She was spotting for Nicky because they needed people on the ground who spoke French with something better than her (Joe had said it kindly) very obviously American accent.

“Copy,” murmured Andy. “We’re on it.”

Nile was so surprised when Joe swung Andy up against the wall that she almost dropped her binoculars. Things she had been expecting to see: their target. Civilians. Stray cats.

Things she had not been expecting to see: Joe and Andy making out.

“What the hell?” she said, quietly, because she knew better than to startle a sniper. There was no response from Nicky; she risked a quick glance over to see that his breathing was steady, but the corners of his eyes were crinkled like he was watching something hilarious.

“Good cover,” he said. “He’s moving on.”

“Was it really necessary for you to grope Joe’s ass like that, Andy?” Nile asked pointedly. Joe and Andy had broken apart, looking for all the world like they were catching their breath. “Twenty metres away. Thirty. Go.”

“Look, what can I say,” Andy said. “It’s been a while.”

“I’ll allow it,” Nicky said, benevolently generous with his husband’s body.

“Just so we’re clear, nobody’s allowed to do that to me without prior permission,” said Nile. “Ten metres.”

“I would never, my word on it,” said Joe, and then it was all on.

2. “Good morning,” Joe said as he came into the kitchen, half-singing it. He bent over behind Nile and pressed a kiss to her forehead, at the edge of her scarf; they were having a lazy morning and she hadn’t taken it off yet. “Have you eaten yet?”

“No, but there’s coffee,” Nile said. She felt quite proud of herself for having used the French press successfully. There’d been an unfortunate boiling water fountain incident the first time.

“Nicky’s going to make shakshouka,” Joe assured her, swinging into one of the other chairs and stealing half of the newspaper Nile was trying slowly to make her way through. It was in Turkish, so it was involving a lot of pencil notes and looking things up on her phone, but she’d almost got the gist of the headline article.

“Am I?” Nicky said, wandering in; he was as happy as Joe but in an entirely different way, a quiet satisfied stroll that reminded Nile of a big cat.

Andy slunk in after him. “Yes, because if you’re both going to be this disgustingly freshly laid in the morning, you have to make it up to me and Nile somehow. It’s the rules.”

“There’s coffee, Andy,” Nile said, and was rewarded with a firm squeeze of both shoulders as Andy went past. Nicky was already pulling a frying pan out of the cupboard, humming.

“I knew we found you for a reason,” Andy said to Nile fondly, as she poured her coffee.

3. After all the shouting and the crying and the blood – the crying was what Nile had found the most upsetting – Joe was the first person to go up to Quỳnh, after Andy finally let her go. He said a word that Nile didn’t understand, but thought might be in Vietnamese, and kissed her on the side of her mouth. Quỳnh’s eyes were welling up, too.

“It means older sister,” Nicky murmured to Nile. Joe had folded Quỳnh in one of his patented big Joe hugs now, and Nicky left Nile’s side to go towards them.

“Fuck,” Nile said, and wiped a hand across her own eyes; they had her going now too.

4. When Booker came back to them, he and Nicky nodded to each other tensely – Nile knew by now what it looked like when Nicky was mad with you, and he was still mad with Booker – but he and Joe circled each other like cats who hadn’t been introduced for a good two hours, before suddenly some invisible signal was given and they were doing the full-on European hug-and-two-kisses thing, while Nicky sighed very deeply and shook his head.

“You know what this means?” Andy asked Nile. “Now it’s gonna be two of them arguing for putting on the football.”

5. “Fuck,” Andy said in Nile’s earpiece. “Reynolds is coming back; she saw me last week. Joe?”

“I got it,” Joe said. Nile leaned back against the bar, pretending to sip her cocktail, and saw him introduce himself to Reynolds; very few people were defenseless against Joe at his most charming.

“Now she’s seen Joe,” Nile pointed out.

“We’re going to be on a different continent in twenty-four hours,” said Quỳnh.
“That’s fine. We just need her not to put the pieces together about Andy.”

Across the room, Joe was kissing Reynolds’ hand. She actually giggled.

“I can’t believe that fucking works,” Booker said through their earpieces.

“My husband is of course the most charming man on Earth,” said Nicky, because, Nile guessed, it was really easy to be secure in your relationship when you had a sniper rifle pointed at the woman your husband was flirting with.

Booker said something very rude in French – Nile couldn’t translate it exactly, but the attitude made it across.

“Focus, everybody,” said Andy, but Nile didn’t need to see her to know she was smiling.

6. For all that they were the most happily married couple on Earth and Andy bewailed their tendency to obviously enjoying morning sex – although a lot less since Quỳnh had come back, Nile noticed – Joe and Nicky weren’t big on PDAs. They didn’t necessarily sit next to each other, often acknowledged each other with a smile or a nod or a brief touch, and Nile could count on the fingers of one hand the number of times she’d seen them kiss.

This time, though, Joe had crawled out of the ruins of a collapsed building with his entire left side drenched in dark arterial blood, and – the immediate danger having passed, and nobody else having been in the building – Nicky had promptly grabbed him and kissed him like they were filming the climactic scene in a romance movie, bent over backwards a little and everything.

“Oh, hey,” said Andy. “I guess he was under there a while.”

“If it was me I’d do it every time,” said Nile. “Why waste a moment?”

“Aw, Nile.” Andy winked. “You’re welcome anytime, if you’re feeling the lack of romance.”

“Uh,” Nile said, and felt herself start to blush; Quỳnh cackled, and she blushed even harder. She'd be glad they couldn't see it, but she was pretty sure they knew anyway.

Over the way, Joe and Nicky had finally broken their clinch, and were staring into each other’s eyes. That Nile had seen before.

Andy slung an arm around Nile’s shoulders. “C’mon,” she said. “Let’s go find Booker before he panics.”

“Count me in as well,” Quỳnh said, putting her arm around Nile from the other side. “If you’re ever feeling left out.”

“Well, I’ll think about it,” Nile said, grinning.

Prompt: https://theoldguardkinkmeme.dreamwidth.org/953.html?thread=25785#cmt25785

“Why are you in trouble, Booker?” Andy asked, standing above him and tapping her fingers against the arm of the sofa.

“Because I came without permission while Nile was riding me,” Booker responded quickly, his cheeks flushed. “I’m sorry, it just felt so good, I couldn’t help it—“

“Ah, ah, no excuses,” Andy warned. “You always have choices, Book. You could have told us you were about to come, couldn’t you? You could have begged for her to get off of you, or you could have begged to come. But instead you just spilled inside her, without even asking.”

Booker nodded, a little mournfully. “I know, I’m sorry.” Andy slid a finger under his chin, tilting him up to look at her. “It’s alright, Book. We just need to punish you and then everything’s going to be just fine. Accidents happen, I understand.”

She could see Booker shifting, warring with his curiosity as he wondered what kind of punishment she had in mind. “First,” Andy decided, “you’re going to watch while I pleasure Nile, because you came so quickly that you left her unsatisfied. You may touch yourself if you want while you watch, but you’re not allowed to come, of course. Then we’ll see if we can’t teach that pretty cock of yours a lesson.”

He was determined not to lay a hand on himself, knowing that it would just make it more difficult to keep control of his arousal, but his determination quickly flew out the window as he watched Andy slide her slim fingers into Nile where Booker’s cock had been only minutes before, heard Nile’s little gasps and moans as Andy expertly took her apart. By the time Nile finally climaxed around Andy’s fingers, Booker was fully hard again, his hand stroking slowly, just to keep his desire on a low burn.

Andy noticed, because of course she did, and she wrapped her slick fingers around him, jacking him a few times. “You’re a greedy thing, aren’t you? You already want more, even after you came in Nile not even an hour ago.” Booker just nodded, because he was, he knew he was, he only had to look at them and he was desperate for it.

“Nile, be a dear and go get me the red bag that’s in the bedroom,” Andy asked as her finger trailed down his length to stroke his balls, and Booker’s whole body jerked because he knew what was in the red bag, knew now how he would be punished, and he loved and hated it in equal measure. “Going to help you learn not to come without permission,” and Booker was achingly hard even though he knew the sweet agony that was coming.

When Nile brought back the red bag, Andy didn’t waste any time pulling the sleek wooden device out. “There you go, pet,” she said cheerfully as she locked it into place around his balls, and he howled as the humbler tugged at them, squirming as he tried to find a position that didn’t pull too much at his sensitive sac. “Boss, please,” he begged, though he hardly knew what he was begging for, he trusted she would know. Andy cupped his bound balls in her hand, stroking gently and then smacking them with the flat of her hand and he whimpered, contorting himself to try and get away, then crying out as his twisting movements only caused the device to pull on his balls, sending shocks of agony through him. “Andy, Andy,” he repeated desperately. “It hurts, Andy—“

She frowned for a second, rubbed lightly at his tormented balls, a soothing touch. “Colour?” She asked him, but he was already shaking his head. “Green, green, fuck,” he emphasised, and it was always a heady feeling, to see how much he could take and know that he still wanted more. “Good,” she replied, running her fingers through his hair, “because I think we have more work to do to train the selfishness out of you. Next time, you’re going to make sure that Nile comes first, aren’t you? Next time you’ll think with this—“ she pressed a palm against his heart, felt it pounding like a trapped bird—“rather than this”, and her hand came down hard on his cock. He howled and jerked, the humbler pulling viciously at his sac and drawing a hitching cry from him, and he couldn’t stop the tears from welling up.

Andy was always amazed that Booker could stay hard no matter how much she tormented him, and she stroked him a few times, soaking up his moans of pleasure as easily as she did his cries of pain. “I want this cock,” she told him casually, reaching down to pinch the skin of his trapped balls, twisting them ever so slightly in her hand. “If I let you fuck me, do you think you can do a better job than you did with Nile and satisfy me?”

He nodded, frantic. “Please give me another chance, Andy, I promise I’ll do better.” Andy nodded, gave his length a last stroke and stepped away. “Nile?” She suggested. “Keep his balls warm for me while I get undressed?” Nile was more merciful than Andy, or else she just had less experience knowing just how much he could take, because her little slaps against his sac were more like love-taps than Andy’s harsh blows, but they still left him whimpering and crying, his skin turning red and sensitive.

When he looked up again he saw Andy naked through his tears, watching him and sliding two fingers into herself, and he whined. “Please boss, let me try and please you,” and she motioned for Nile to move out of the way and lowered herself down onto his aching length. She took her time with it, at first, rubbing the head through her folds to tease herself before taking him inside agonisingly slowly, rolling her hips as she sought the angle that would bring her the most pleasure.

He clung to her as she rose and fell on him, his entire focus on trying desperately not to come, and he jolted in shock as she stopped her steady movement, nails scratching at his hips. “You have a nice cock, but you clearly don’t know how to use it,” she berated, and his cheeks flushed but his cock twitched inside her. “And now you’re making me do all the work. Come on, show me you’ve learned your lesson.”

He quickly realized that complying was going to be a particular agony. Thrusting up into her brought both the visceral pleasure of sinking his cock deeper into her tight warmth as well as the coil of pleasure that always came from doing as she had asked. But each thrust also inevitably tugged at his balls, sending shockwaves of pain through him. “Are you close?” Andy asked him, and he nodded at first and then shook his head. “I’m close but I’m going to be good, I won’t come before you do, boss, I promise,” he pledged, openly sobbing with the twin pain and pleasure of every thrust. “Just want to make you feel good, Andy, please,” and she brought a hand to the back of his neck, grounding. “You are, sweetheart, it’s okay, you’re giving me what I need. Just a little bit more,” she urged and she brought her fingers between her legs, rubbing lightly at her clit to speed things up. “Oh, that’s right, Booker, right there, God I love that pretty cock of yours, love what you let me do to you,” and he sobbed out a sigh of relief when he felt her clench around him.

“That was so good, Booker, well done,” she praised and she leaned down to undo the humbler, letting it fall to the side. “You can come in me, Book, you’ve earned it,” and he made a wounded noise, thrust up into her twice, jagged little movements, and spilled with a low mournful groan.

He whined when she pulled off of him, but she shushed him, pressing a kiss to his temple. “I’m not going anywhere, don’t worry,” she promised, curling up next to him and letting him rest against her shoulder, while Nile pressed against his other side, peppering his cheeks with kisses. “That was intense, wasn’t it?” Andy asked. “But you did so beautifully, I’m really proud of you,” and he flushed under the praise, his spent cock jerking a bit as if he could get hard just from her telling him he had been good. He probably could, she thought, and vowed to try that sometime soon. “Can we get you anything? Some ice, something to drink, a blanket?” He shook his head, burrowing into her shoulder as his tears slowed. “Just you two is all I need.”

For the prompt https://theoldguardkinkmeme.dreamwidth.org/2726.html?thread=695206#cmt695206

Thanks for the lovely prompt nonnie

~~~

“What the fuck,” is what Joe first says when he sees the webpage load.

Congratulations on your marriage! It reads in big, cursive red letters. A gif of champagne popping and flower petals falling plays below it.

Your beloved’s name is:

Nicolò di Genova

Gender: Male

Age: 30

Place of Birth: Genoa, Italy

“There’s no fucking way,” Joe whispers to himself as he scrolls down the page of information on his match. His eyes stick on Religion: Catholic, and then Occupation: priest and bug out. “What the fuck,” he says again, with feeling, “what the fuck?”

At the bottom of the page is a profile picture of a man. Pale skin, dark hair, dressed in black clothing with a white clerical collar at his throat. A small, morose smile lingers on his mouth. He’s nothing like what Joe was picturing when he’d filled out his preferences; fit, tanned, preferably long haired with a pretty smile. Gender doesn’t matter to Joe, and not really looks, either, but this isn’t—this isn’t what he was expecting at all. Least of all Catholic? Sure, Joe wouldn’t say he’s exactly a practising Muslim, but he still eats halal and attends the local mosque with his family from time to time. But Catholics and Muslims can totally marry, there’s absolutely nothing wrong with that. Just, a Catholic priest? Didn’t they think homosexuality was a sin? Could they even get married?

Still reeling, he gets up from his desk and does a round of his room. Sits back down, refreshes the page, and groans when he sees the exact same information display.

He picks up his phone and punches in the number for the helpline. It rings as he rests it against his ear, and he refreshes the page again while he waits, just in case.

The phone picks up. “Welcome to Soulmatch! My name is Nina, how may I help you?”

“There has to have been some kind of mistake,” he says quickly.

“I’m sorry?”

Joe winces. “Sorry, my name is Joe al-Kaysani. I paid for a marriage match on the website? But there’s been some kind of mistake. I’ve been matched with the wrong person.”

Nina laughs. “The algorithm does not make mistakes, Mr al-Kaysani.”

“Well, it did this time,” Joe says, staring at the profile pic of the bloody Catholic priest he’s been matched with. “He’s Catholic! They think being gay is a sin! We can’t be married!”

“Everything will work out, Mr al-Kaysani,” Nina reassures, sounding very indulgent. “Trust in the algorithm. The algorithm is never wrong. All hail the algorithm.”

Joe hangs up, disgusted.

~~~

It says, right in the contract he signed when he paid for this cursed website, that there are no refunds, no take-backs, no second matches if you aren’t happy with the first. Joe’s stuck with this Nicolò di Genova from Genoa Italy, when he arrives a week later. He rings the helpline again, gets basically the same thing that he got from that Nina lady, scrolls through every page of the website and only finds one thing in the tiniest text at the bottom of a page Joe isn’t even sure how he got to: if you are truly unhappy after one year, you are able to file for a divorce through the site, and you will be refunded your money in full.

One year, Joe thinks, staring up at his bedroom ceiling, unable to sleep. One, full, year married to this guy. Allah, why did he ever think this was a good idea?

Damn you, Aunt Zara, for telling me the website works, he thinks, angrily rolling over onto his side. Damn you, shitty, sad, dating life. Damn you, all my happily in love friends. And damn you, Nicolò di Genova, for signing up for that hellish website as well.

He punches his pillow a couple of times and slams his head back down on it. He gets to sleep at around four am, and wakes just as, if more, grumpy.

~~~
By the end of the week, his anger at the unfairness of it all has faded into some sort of ashamed resignation. He knew what he was signing up for at the start. It’s his fault that he’s in this mess in the first place. He’s just going to have to suck it up, tell Nicolò di Genova when he arrives that he’s sorry, but they’re going to have to wait the year out to get a divorce. Surely, the man doesn’t want to be married to him either, right?

And then, Sunday comes. The day of his new husband’s arrival. Joe quickly makes up the spare room guiltily (he may have been putting it off), moves out all his art supplies and half finished works he’d been keeping in there into his studio, and cleans his house haphazardly. He’s not going to be able to hide his bad habits for long, he reasons, so there’s no point in making everything dust free and sparkling for the other man’s arrival. They’re going to be living together for a year, after all. He’s sure he’s going to have to put up with some bad habits as well.

And at 12 o’clock on the dot, there’s a quiet knock on his front door. For a second Joe considers just not answering it, hiding in his bedroom and pretending he’s not home until the person knocking gives up, but then he sighs. There’s no use in postponing this.

He strides up to his door and opens it with what he hopes is a friendly smile.

The man standing on his doorstep looks vastly different from the photo that Joe had been provided on the website. His hair is longer and messier, brushed behind his ears, both of which sparkle at the lobes with little silver earrings. The angle the photo had been taken at had hidden how broad his shoulders are, how slim his waist is, and the washed out colours had completely betrayed the pinkness of his lips, the bright sea-storm of his eyes. Instead of a morose little smile his mouth curves gently with a shy half grin, and gone is his stiff black clothing and clerical collar, replaced with a casual dark t-shirt and jeans.

“Hello,” he says with a lilting Italian accent, voice soft. “It’s lovely to finally meet you. I’m Nicolò, but everyone calls me Nicky.”

“Yeah,” Joe says. “Yeah. Uh. I’m Joe. Come in.”

~~~
They sit at Joe’s kitchen table, two mugs of coffee steaming in front of them. Nicolò has his hands clasped on the table, and something about that makes Joe kind of annoyed.

“Look,” Joe says suddenly, “uh, I’m sure that this whole situation is weird to you too—”

Nicolò—Nicky, shifts, looking like he wants to say something, but Joe barrels onwards.

“—because there’s been some mistake, we definitely aren’t each other’s ideal choice in partner, but we only need to be roommates for a year, right, and then we can get our money back when we file for divorce. So it’s no big deal. I’ll stay outta your way if you want it, there’s a spare room for you down the hall—”

“...Divorce?” Nicky asks quietly, his eyes big and blue-grey. The knuckles of his clasped hands have whitened.

Joe winces. “Uh, the Catholic Church is okay with divorce, right?” It’s gonna make it a lot harder if Nicky doesn’t believe in annulling a marriage. Joe should’ve researched more...

“It’s allowed.”

Joe lets out a breath. “Right. But you know, we don’t have to tiptoe around. We’re probably gonna see a lot of each other so, uh, we could be friends?”

“Friends,” Nicky says slowly, and Joe’s starting to think maybe Nicky isn’t going to be a great conversationalist.

“I mean, we don’t have to—”

“—No, no,” Nicky interrupts, and there’s something shadowed in his expression, but it quickly fades under a small smile. “I would like to be friends.”

Joe lets out another breath. “That’s awesome. Great. Friends. So, uh, I’ll show you to your room. Come on.” He gets up out of the chair, and before Nicky can grab his suitcase next to the door, Joe gets it for him. “It’s just down here.”

~~~

“I’ll let you settle in,” Joe says, smiling awkwardly in the doorway. “Did you want me to shut the door?”

“Yes, thank you,” Nicky says, proud when his voice doesn’t waver.

“Uh, when you’re ready, come on out and I’ll give you the grand tour,” Joe offers, and then closes the door with a quiet click.

Nicky sinks down onto the double bed and looks around the room. It’s decently sized, bigger than his bedroom in his old rectory, with a window that looks out over the small but well maintained backyard. There’s a bookshelf, half filled with a few books that look like they’re college textbooks, and a set of drawers. Next to the bed is a nightstand, with a lamp. On the wall is a painting of a beautiful young woman, and if Nicky wasn’t feeling so shaky, he would’ve gotten up to inspect the masterful brushstrokes and lovely use of colour.

But instead he clasps his hands together on his knees and leans over them, hastily brushing away a tear with his knuckle as it leaks from under his eyelid.
It had hurt, when Joe had said that Nicky hadn’t been what he’d wanted, but something inside Nicky had been expecting it as soon as he’d seen Joe’s profile picture on the website. He’d been immediately captivated by his warm dark eyes, his wild curls contained by a backwards cap, his thick beard and wide, friendly smile that reminded Nicky of midsummer sunshine. Someone as handsome and lovely as Joe, matched with him? Surely there had been a mistake.

He inhales shakily, holding the breath in, before forcefully exhaling as slow as he can manage. He’d used the website as a last resort. He’d been terribly lonely, after he’d left the priesthood. His family wanted nothing to do with him, and neither did the church, or the few friends he’d made there. Nicky wasn’t particularly talkative, so making friends didn’t come easily to him, and since he wasn’t sure what he wanted to do making a living just yet, he didn’t even have work colleagues to rely on as company. Dating was something he wasn’t naturally good at and had no experience in, and as soon as men heard that he was an ex-Catholic priest, they immediately weren’t interested. Way too many issues to sort out there for just a quick fuck, one of his more memorable dates had said. He’d seen the add for the website in the newspaper one day, and had looked it up, doubtful, but curious. And then he’d seen the glowing reviews and happy couples, and he’d—he’d just been so lonely.

He’d signed up right away. Did the paperwork, paid the fee, filled out the questionnaire, said he was willing to move to meet his match (there was nothing keeping him anchored here), and uploaded the only photo he’d had of himself from the seminary website. And then he’d waited. It had only taken a few days before he’d gotten an email saying that his match had been found, and he was now officially married. He’d been so happy. Someone who Nicky was perfect for, and someone who was perfect for Nicky. Someone who he could love, and be loved in return.

Of course it was too good to be true. It’s understandable that Joe took one look at him and knew that Nicky wasn’t for him. Nicky has never been easy to love.

Sniffing, he brushes away another tear and sits up, staring at the cheery yellow ceiling. Friends, Joe had said, smiling openly. Nicky should be glad for just that. He’s lucky that Joe could look past the mistake that had been made and welcome him into his home with open arms. Nicky hopes that when the year is up, they’ll still be friends. It would be nice, to have one.

Taking a deep breath, he dries his eyes with his sleeves, and forces himself to smile. There’s no point in wallowing. He’s happy, he really is, to have met Joe.
Friends, he thinks, and his smile turns more genuine.

Yes, that sounds very nice indeed.

Prompt:https://theoldguardkinkmeme.dreamwidth.org/2726.html?thread=638118&posted=1#cmt1030566

Fill: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26583175

They are careless with their bodies.

Worse than teenagers really, but after you’ve lived for a thousand lifetimes, after you have experienced nearly every death known to man, you throw caution to the wind. You get trigger happy, you stop looking both ways when you cross an intersection. You readily throw yourself from a plane because you know that once the ground breaks your body, it will heal the splintering bones and torn flesh and you will get back up again and walk.

So, Booker isn’t thinking all too hard about it when he pulls the trigger on Andromache.

The bullet goes straight through the back of her head, quick and easy like, tearing through vertebrae and brain matter. Bathing Copley’s expensive carpets and the back of Andy’s head in a wash of red.

“Christ, Booker!” Copley shouts, flinching at the wound and the sound of Andromache’s body falling flat with a thump.

Booker’s quick to secure her, he grabs her arms and holds them down in a tight grip because when Andromache gets back up there will be hell to pay except, the blood on the floor keeps growing. Booker can still see inside her wound and it’s not- it’s not fucking healing.

He flips her over lightning quick, her eyes are bloodied, her face is blue. Cold hysteria fills him, makes him crazy, makes him numb. It makes him think of a noose wrapped tight ‘round his neck in cold Russia’s winter, makes him think of the crows that pecked his eyes out and all the hell that he deserves for doing this to Andromache, to his family.

“Booker,” Copley asks, eyes wide. He’s in over his head, has been from the fucking start of it all. “Is she...is she dead?”

Booker cradles her head in his hands, he brushes her eyelids closed, presses his own forehead against Andy’s that has since gone sticky with blood. He doesn’t think he can answer Copley. He can’t speak the words out loud.

Booker thinks, Why didn’t you tell me, boss? And then he wonders if that even would have mattered, and hates himself for not knowing the answer.

“Booker-” Copley tries again, but the doors burst open.

It’s Merrick’s men.

Booker doesn’t put up a fight when they carry him away.

*

In the lab,

Nicky and Yusuf scream at him. They ask him what happened, they ask him about Andromache, the bullet in her head, her corpse strapped to the table between them as a morbid display of his betrayal.

Booker doesn’t know what to say.

In the end, he says nothing.

*

It’s Nile who saves them with the help of Copley and it is Nile who tells the others what happened.

*

Nicky and Yusuf don’t say anything. They don’t rage against him. They don’t kill him. There is nothing but teary-eyed silence, shocked stares, broken faces and Andromache’s broken body.

*

Booker asks them to leave him behind, strapped to the examine-room table.

It is the one thing that they all agree on.

Prompt: https://theoldguardkinkmeme.dreamwidth.org/3653.html?thread=1016133#cmt1016133

~This is taking place in a weird quasi-historical AU just go with it OK~

The night before the Great Feast, Yusuf’s parents sat him down and went through every candidate for his hand who would be walking through the doors of the main hall tomorrow, as though he did not know every one of them already. His mother scolded him once again for not having a preferred suitor; she, he was reminded, had accepted his father halfway through her own Great Feast – not even waiting for all her suitors to make their proposals – and put everybody out of their misery.

“Father said that I wasn’t to do that, because it would offend people,” Yusuf pointed out dryly.

His father harrumphed. “Well, yes, it was a very different time then -”

“If I thought there was one of them you truly wanted, you could do that with my blessing,” said his mother. “But there isn’t, so you can hear them all out. Now, where were we? Ah yes. Prince Stephen.”

“A weasel,” said his father succinctly.

“A powerful one, unfortunately.” His mother fussed with the edge of her scarf. “Don’t offend him, but if you love your aged parents, please do not accept him.”

“I’ve met him,” said Yusuf. Stephen had tried to quote poetry from his own land at him as if Yusuf had been entirely ignorant of it. Yusuf would spit on the man if he was dragged before him in chains, still less accept his hand in marriage in his family’s own palace.

“Good.” His mother put that paper down firmly. “Now, Duke Keane is an ally of Stephen’s family, and he would be acceptable, although I do hear…well, you can make up your own mind.” She frowned at the next one. “I know you and Count Sébastien are great friends, but -”

“He will not accept me,” Yusuf said, “never fear.” Sébastien had written to him, his cocky grin evident in every line, that he had put off his engagement to the lady Adele in order to present himself as a suitor “but do not worry – it is only that I would not miss this chance for the world.”

They worked their way through Princess Quynh of the Viet, the Emperor’s second daughter, and Duchess Nile of Illinois who had travelled across the sea, and all the other suitors, and Yusuf could not think of one of them who he wanted to marry. They were Christian and Muslim and Jewish and even a pagan Viking; they were men and women, princes and duchesses, emirs and ladies; Yusuf simply did not care for any of them. He knew that his position did not allow him to be a romantic, but he could not pretend to like it.

“Oh, and I almost forgot,” said his father. “The Comte di Genova has sent his youngest son.”

“God preserve us, has he?” His mother frowned at the page. “Why on earth are we still sending invitations to them? After the raid -”

“It’s tradition.” His father sighed. “They do not expect anything to come of it; we do not expect anything to come of it; if I remember correctly the boy was sent to a monastery, and I doubt he is interested in marrying here, much less converting.”

“Unless he wants to be a martyr,” Yusuf said dryly. He knew that Christian texts made much of people marrying outside their faith to either bravely die for it or convert their spouses. The Comte di Genova’s son wasn’t going to get either of those things here.

“Well, whatever you do, do not accept the Comte di Genova’s son,” his mother finished up. “I swear by God, Yusuf, just make a decent choice and we can put this behind us.”

“I will be married,” Yusuf said. Tradition dictated that the wedding take place that night.

“It’s not as if you can’t divorce them quietly in a year or two, if it’s that disastrous,” said his mother. “I promised my father I’d divorce your father eventually, since he was the second son of a third wife instead of the senior prince my father was expecting –” Yusuf’s father’s eyebrows went up like that was news to him – “but then we had you right away and he came around.”

“There’s at least three people on this list he can’t divorce for any reason,” objected his father. “It would start a war.”

“Mother, how did Father even come to make you a proposal at your Feast, and not one of his older brothers?” Yusuf suddenly wondered.

“I spoke to my mother, and she spoke to Yusuf’s mother, and Yusuf’s mother spoke to her husband’s eldest wife, and it was arranged, of course,” his mother said. “You don’t think I left it to chance.” She frowned at Yusuf again. “Unlike some people in this room.”

Yusuf sighed. “Alright, Mother. I will not disgrace us, I promise.”

“Oh, I know you won’t,” said his mother benevolently, which was the most frightening thing she’d said all night.

Smashed fill for these two prompts

Prompts:
https://theoldguardkinkmeme.dreamwidth.org/2487.html?thread=471479#cmt471479

https://theoldguardkinkmeme.dreamwidth.org/2998.html?thread=847542#cmt847542

Fill:https://archiveofourown.org/works/26592868

Prompt: https://theoldguardkinkmeme.dreamwidth.org/3653.html?thread=1054021#cmt1054021
Yes it's that time my friends. We have made it 7 prompts deep and I'm kicking in the male lactation door.

Things I want:
+ Omega!Joe/Alpha!Nicky
+ Domesticity with already maybe having a few other kids
+ Nicky wanting to put a new baby in Joe and Joe being 100% down for it
+ And of course, lactation kink, does not necessarily have to be nursing from Nicky on Joe, but massaging, teasing, yes. Worship dem tiddies.

... I may have gotten stuck on the domestic.
+++

He should have been used to this by now, but it still left Nicky breathless every time.

Propped up in their bed in a nest of pillows, Joe was shirtless, their son suckling at his teat. The afternoon light caught in his curls and crowned him with a halo. Nicky had seen saints that looked less divine.

Joe was going to be sore in a bit. Ameel was teething. It was going to be bad for a little while longer. Nicky watched him wince, but Joe sank back with a breathy sigh.

"Are you just going to stand there?"

Nicky dutifully stepped closer, and with practiced ease, plucked their little bundle off Joe's chest once his feeding was done. There was a moment, expected but tense, as they waited for an outburst even when the odds were stacked against them. Then Nicky propped him against his shoulder, and pat his back, to coax out a burp.

"He full?" Nicky asked, and got a noncommittal grunt in response. Joe lounged across their bed like a king on his throne, legs akimbo. His chest looked flushed and heavy, pinked around the dark tips, a single white drop beading around his left. He was exhausted. He was gorgeous. Nicky put a hand high on his thigh, sweatpants whisper soft against his palm. "What about Daddy?"

"Dunno about him, but Dad's full of shit." Joe drawled, but he was already grinning, and they shared that between them.

Then Nicky leaned closer, baby still delicately poise, and pressed a kiss against Joe's teat, where it was red and flushed. He felt, rather than heard him hiss.

"Nicky..." A warning, but they both knew just how much Nicky could get away with. He dragged his teeth over the taut nub, flicked it with the tip of his tongue, and Joe pushed him away grumbling. Or tried to. Nicky wouldn't go. He tugged him between his teeth, felt Joe shudder.

Nicky relented, and very carefully moved until he could lean on Joe, the baby, not yet burping, but hopefully getting there. Joe's arms went around him, his nails dragging idly across Nicky's belly. If they weren't careful, they would fall asleep like this, and they had been doing so well observing scheduled naptimes.

"When's your next heat?" Nicky asked, not looking up. Joe tensed. It was painfully satisfying.

"Probably two months or so, why?" Too gruff to be anything but knowing.

"Because I'm going to knot you so hard you can't walk. We'll make Ameel an older brother."

Joe pressed a kiss to his forehead, and whispered, "Put the baby down, I'm going to wreck his father."

Ameel burped.

"Joe!"

"You started it. He's a baby, he doesn't understand language yet!"

And if Nicky had anything to say about this, he would not learn this part of language until he was thirty.

https://archiveofourown.org/works/26606758

Original prompt: "X times Joe begged, or a X + 1 time if you prefer. I just...have a need...to see Joe begging in various contexts, like sexual desperation, fear, being cute, flirtatiously, sincerely, tears in his eyes, any and all."

prompt: Nicky's got a smaller dick than average and like everything else with him, Joe is utterly besotted. He loves that he can close his hand around it and can engulf it; that it slots so perfectly into his hand, his mouth, his ass.

+ Playing with Nicky's foreskin and driving him wild

(i didnt really get to the foreskin part sdlfk but the other? is....there...)

fill: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26610709

Prompt: https://theoldguardkinkmeme.dreamwidth.org/3653.html?thread=1004869#cmt1004869

“Oh, you’re in a bad way, aren’t you?” Andy remarked gently, stroking her fingers through Booker’s hair. It had been a rough mission, one of the worst ones since he had come back to them, and she had lost count of how many times he had died in agony. Even now that they were back home and safe, he was struggling to let go; she could read the tension in every line of his body, the way his shoulders were hunched, his mouth a tight line, had noticed how he had snarked at the others the whole drive back.

He pressed into her touch as much as possible, nodding. “Please help me, boss,” he begged and she nodded, pressing a kiss to the top of his head. “C’mere, Book,” she beckoned, patting her lap, and he climbed up onto her, curling his legs a bit awkwardly underneath him. “Relax, darling, I’ve got you,” she shushed, shrugging her sweater off to reveal her bare chest.

He didn’t need any instructions, he knew just what she was offering and he knew the relief that it could bring him. He cupped her left breast in his hand, worshipful, and sealed his mouth around her nipple. The angle wasn’t quite right initially, and she hissed in sensitivity, nudging at him to move. He shifted a little bit down and latched on properly and oh, that was much better.

“That’s right, darling,” she encouraged, carding her fingers through his hair. “Just take what you need, I’ve got you.” It felt good, his mouth on her—not just the physical sensation of him suckling gently at her breast, but the knowledge that she was taking care of him, that her body was the instrument that could bring him calm.

“My best boy,” she said fondly as she opened the briefing report Copley had sent over about their next mission, starting to read through it. She became so engrossed in the report that she paid almost no attention to the man happily curled up in her lap, until his tongue swiped over her nipple and she groaned. “Booker, baby,” she called, but she could tell that he wasn’t paying attention, was too far gone. Her hands went to his cheeks, pulled him off of her, and he whined, his eyes glazed. “It’s okay,” she calmed him. “I just need you to switch, that one’s getting too sensitive.” She slowly fed her other breast into his mouth, sighing as he latched on.

It was about fifteen minutes later that Quynh walked in, her eyes softening as she saw the two of them curled up on the couch. She leaned down to give Andy a kiss hello, then pressed a kiss to the top of Booker’s head where he was bent over Andy, suckling softly at her. “Good to see you relaxed again, pet,” she told Booker. “I can take over,” she offered to Andy, sitting next to her and curling up against her side, shrugging her sweater off. “Whatever he needs.”

Prompt: https://theoldguardkinkmeme.dreamwidth.org/1106.html?thread=99410#cmt99410

"Ok so my memory of the van scene in the movie is a bit rusty but here's a bit of an au for it: instead of all the guys dying in the van after Joe makes that speech, Keane decides to have some fun with Nicky at Joe's expense

+Not full on rape. While the van is getting where they need to go, Keane sits across from Joe and keeps Nicky in his lap

++Nicky and Joe keep talking to each other, reassuring the other that it's okay and they love each other so to shut Nicky up, Keane shoves his fingers in Nicky's mouth and tells him to start sucking or he was gonna make sure Joe stayed dead for good- he keeps taunting Joe too, asking if Nicky's tongue and mouth feel as good as on Joe's dick as it does on Keane's fingers. Keane threatens to hurt Nicky when he tries to bite the fingers in his mouth

+++Joe and Nicky absolutely are amazing fighters and can definitely fuck shit up and defend themselves but Joe doesn't.want to risk hurting Nicky and forces himself to watch Keane manhandle his love until Andy, Booker and Nile arrive- when they do, Joe doesn't even care about the risk of dying he just wants to get Nicky away from Keane and keep him safe"

Fill: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26613457

https://theoldguardkinkmeme.dreamwidth.org/2998.html?thread=868022&posted=1#cmt1115830

Prompt: Somehow (technology, magic, serum, take your pick), Nicky gets de-aged. He keeps his memories, but his body is now that a 16-18 year old.

Joe is still affectionate, but it feels wrong to him to fuck Nicky when he looks like that. Nicky disagrees and proceeds to tease the hell out of Joe until Joe snaps, bends Nicky over the nearest item, and fucks him hard.

Fill- https://archiveofourown.org/works/26621320 (https://archiveofourown.org/works/26621320)

Filling this prompt: https://theoldguardkinkmeme.dreamwidth.org/1106.html?thread=149074&posted=1#cmt1120594

Found on AO3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26622169

Added in some threesome, intersex omega and other stuff. Please enjoy!

Prompt: https://theoldguardkinkmeme.dreamwidth.org/3653.html?thread=1007685#cmt1007685

It was about six months after Quynh and Booker had rejoined the group, when Andy suddenly got that glint in her eye that always meant trouble. “You know,” she remarked, fake casually, at dinner. “We still haven’t properly welcomed Nile to the team.”

Joe just laughed and gave her a wink, while Booker’s cheeks flushed crimson, and okay, what was going on? Nile shot a desperate glance at Nicky, but he was just smiling as if he knew something she didn’t. “They mean fucking you until you don’t remember your own name,” Quynh said bluntly, and oh. Well. Nile wasn’t going to say no to that.

Four days later, she was feeling more than a little awkward laying on the bed in her T-shirt and plain black panties while they argued over who was going to sex her up first. “I think Joe is the best for anyone to start with,” Nicky explained earnestly. “He is very good at the sex and he will be very gentle with her.” Booker made an indignant noise, puppy eyes trained on Andy. “I’ll be gentle too! Please, boss, I want to make her feel good.” Andy almost gave in, but finally shook her head. “Nicky’s right, Joe is the best choice to start. Book, you’ll get your turn soon enough.”

Joe beamed, shooting Nicky a grateful glance, and then he was clambering over Nile, bracketing her with his body, and she felt oddly warm and protected. “Can I?” He asked, toying with the hem of her shirt, and she nodded quickly. “You can do whatever you want,” she said, a little breathless from the thought of what was coming.

He slid her shirt up and off, and the look he gave her bare chest sent a shiver through her. “You are beautiful, my flower,” he whispered, kissing along her collarbone. By the time he had kissed his way down her chest and sucked marks that instantly faded above her hips, she was squirming with it, and when he pressed a light kiss to her folds she groaned. “Later, Joe, please,” she begged. “I want your cock first.” He gave her a bit of a pitiful look, like she was dragging him away from his treat, and she laughed, pulling him up for a kiss and undoing his pants. “Later, I promise.”

She moaned as Joe pushed into her, twining her legs around his waist to urge him on. “Mm, you’re a lucky man, Nicky,” she remarked, drawing a laugh from the Italian man. “I know, I know,” he commented, casual like his husband wasn’t balls deep in her. “I love many things about my Yusuf, but that lovely cock is certainly one of them.”

“You can move,” she encouraged Joe, because he had stopped, waiting for her to adjust. He was achingly careful at first, taking her in long slow thrusts that felt painfully intimate. “Oh god Joe, faster, please,” she begged, and he complied, but his movements were still deliberate, rather than rough. He was not especially long, but his cock was thick and stretched her in the best possible ways, and she was soon arching into each thrust. She was a little embarrassed at how loud she was being, how she would moan and cry out when he would press in, but the team looked like they were living for her noises, so she didn’t try to stifle them.

“How does she feel, my heart?” Nicky asked and Joe groaned, his hips stuttering, the first time he had lost his steady rhythm. “She is a marvel,” Joe replied, his hands sliding down her sides to her hips so that he could have a little better leverage. “She is a vision of loveliness, she makes me come undone, makes me want to spill already,” and Nile moaned at the thought. “You can go ahead and do that, you know.” She had always been super careful before, always used condoms and everything, but it was a major turn on that she would get to feel them come inside her.

“Not before you, my shining star,” Joe replied, but she could tell that he was already close, losing his rhythm occasionally. Nile bit her lip and carefully flipped them so that she was on top. “Let me—like this—“ she gasped out, and his pupils were blown wide as she set the pace, getting herself off on his cock as quickly as possible. “Oh yes,” she babbled, losing any sense of embarrassment as she could feel the coil of arousal growing in her belly. “Oh yes, Joe, want to feel you come inside me, fuck—“

Joe held out long enough to feel her clenching around him, and then he was lost as well, his hips jerking up into her as he spilled. Nicky’s eyes were dark with lust as he watched his husband fall over the edge, and as soon as Joe pulled out and Nile flopped onto her back again, he moved between Nile’s legs, gently spreading her thighs to look at her, and she groaned as she realised that he was looking for Joe’s release, pressing it back into her with one finger. “Nile,” he begged, unzipping his pants to free his throbbing length. “Can I please—just your thighs if you’re too sore, or anything,” but she shook her head. “I want the full experience,” she said with a grin, pulling him on top of her, one hand snaking down between them to line his cock up.

“You’re so wet, princess,” he remarked, a little awed, as he entered her, and she laughed, bright and happy. “Courtesy of Joe,” she remarked with a wink, and cupped his ass with her hands. “Mm, come on, do your worst.” She pulled him down for a filthy kiss, licking into his mouth and nipping at his bottom lip, and he should have known that she would be a little fierce in bed. She was so sweet, their Nile, but there was a quiet fire in her as well, he thought as he took her with long deep strokes.

He wasn’t rough, exactly, but he took her faster and harder than Joe had, already keyed up from having watched her with Joe and the knowledge that his cock was enveloped in the same warmth that had welcomed his husband only a few minutes ago. He felt a twinge of worry as he slammed into her hard enough to push her up the bed and knock her shoulders against the headboard, and he ran a comforting hand down her side, pulling away from their kiss. “Is this okay?” He asked softly, and she chuckled, breathless, and nodded. “More than okay, Nicky, please don’t stop.”

He had no intention of stopping, not if she didn’t want him to, and he kept up his rapid-fire clip, one hand trailing up to cup her breast and rub at one pebbled nipple, which drew a full-body shiver from her that in return had Nicky groaning as he felt her inner walls flutter around his cock. Andy noticed, because of course she did, and she nudged Booker. “Go take care of her tits, Book,” she encouraged and he looked painfully eager as he climbed over to sit next to Nile on the bed. She gave him a reassuring smile, or as much of one as she could manage when Nicky was pounding into her, and then yelped as Booker sealed his lips around her nipple, lapping delicately at it. “Oh god, you two, you’re going to be the death of me,” she muttered.

Despite the additional stimulation from Booker, Nicky still came first, which wasn’t surprising since he had been wound up ever since he had watched her and Joe. “Sorry, Nile,” he apologised as he pulled out, ready to duck his head between her legs to finish her off but Andy stopped him with a firm hand on his shoulder. “Don’t take away Quynh’s fun,” she remarked with a grin, pulling him away so that her wife could take Nicky’s place.

Quynh was nothing if not dedicated, licking her way enthusiastically over where Nile was still sensitive from Nicky. She shot Nile a devious grin in between passes of her tongue. “Mm, Nicky tastes good,” she remarked. “Or is it Joe? I can’t tell for sure,” and she dipped her head to swipe her tongue against Nile again, as if she was checking. Booker was still making love to Nile’s breasts, peppering them with kisses and suckling at them like it was all he wanted in the world, and it didn’t take long before Nile was trembling, tugging lightly at Quynh’s hair to keep her mouth on her through the aftershocks.

“Oh God,” Nile gasped, chest heaving as she finally pushed Quynh away. She knew that she still had Booker and Andy to take, but couldn’t fathom how she could stand any more stimulation, but Andy seemed to know that with the quiet confidence that she always had, that let her know just how to take care of them. “You can have a break,” she told Nile gently, rubbing the younger woman’s shoulder. “Or Booker doesn’t have to fuck you, it’s not even his favourite thing honestly.” Booker whined a bit, his mouth still sealed around Nile’s nipple though he was just holding it in his mouth, and Andy chuckled. “I didn’t say you couldn’t come, Book, don’t worry.”

“Here,” Nile murmured, manoeuvring Booker so that he could nestle his length between her thighs, already slick from her own juices and Quynh’s delicate licks. “Is this good for you?” He nodded as best he could with his mouth still on her breast, trying a few experimental movements, groaning as she tightened her thighs around him, giving him a soft channel to thrust into. He seemed desperate from the start, unable to keep up any kind of steady rhythm, and Andy smiled fondly at the two of them as she watched. “If you want Booker to fuck you at some point,” she explained conspiratorially, like she was sharing a secret, “you have to let him get off once first, because the first time he’s always too keyed up to last very long at all. The second time, he can be slower, more deliberate. Isn’t that right, Book?” She asked, scratching her fingers through his hair, and he nodded, his cheeks flushed with embarrassment and arousal.

“Already c-close,” he confessed, hips rabbiting between Nile’s thighs as he pushed himself closer to the edge, and the youngest member of their team took pity on him, reached down to guide him to shift upwards. “You can—inside, if you want,” and she managed to press just the tip of his cock inside her before he lost it at the feeling of entering her, spurting a little bit inside but mostly all over her folds and her fingers.

“Fuck that was hot,” Nile muttered, squirming a bit against her own fingers and his spent length. “Fuck, Andy, help me out, please,” and Andy shot her a wink. “Thought you’d never ask, darling,” and she nudged Booker, who still looked a little shell-shocked, out of the way. Andy took no quarter, which wasn’t surprising, and it also wasn’t surprising that she was an expert at this. She slid two fingers into Nile, crooking them and immediately setting a steady pace, and brought her thumb and forefinger up to roll Nile’s clit between them, and leaned down to mouth and nip at her neck, and Nile had no choice but to cling to Andy as her pleasure built devastatingly fast, until she came apart around Andy’s fingers with a low groan.

Nile lay back, exhausted and panting, and threw an arm over her eyes. “Do you guys do cuddling?” She asked, and Andy chuckled. “Oh, you didn’t think we were done with you, did you? We’re immortals, you know, we can go all night, over and over again,” and oh. Holy shit. Nile had a sudden vision of just how thoroughly wrecked they could make her by dawn. “But yes,” a sleepy Booker replied next to her. “Eventually, yes, there will be cuddles.”

(OP sorry I tried but i dunno if I did your prompt justice???)

___

Nicky is in love with his husband.

Nicky is in love with all of his husband.

It’s not just Joe’s beautiful words and beautiful soul and boundless capacity for love and warmth, it’s not just his confidence and the way he holds Nicky like he is something precious for the past millennia, it’s not just his magnificent smile and the sparkle in his dark eyes and his boisterous laughter, it’s also the way he looks, the way he moves.

Nicky is a very lucky man. Nicky has known this for centuries, and he will never stop knowing this, and he will never stop appreciating his husband’s attractiveness. Sure, if Joe didn’t look like he did, Nicky wouldn’t love him any less, but it definitely is a bonus that Nicky’s husband is hot.

They’re in the middle of a firefight. Things have gone to hell in a handbasket. Nile is out for the count, regenerating from a nasty grenade to the head, while Andy cuts through swaths of men with her ax, no less lethal now that she is mortal. She’s gorgeous in her cold rage, but Nicky only has eyes for his husband.

Joe is glorious in his violence. He glows hot and passionate, like the desert sun, uncaring of the devastating damage he inflicts with every masterful flick and dip of his scimitar. Every movement of his is controlled and deliberate, his muscles rippling under his clothes, shoulders broad and powerful as he swings and effortlessly fells another enemy.

If Nicky didn’t have the self control he did, he would probably not be fighting at Joe’s side, dancing a brutal duet with his husband perfected by centuries, but instead on the sidelines, greedily drinking in Joe’s powerful body and competence with his weapons. But self control he has, and he only lets himself admire Joe in the moments he can afford to, between swings of his own longsword.

Before long, the fight is over. The three of them are left standing in a massacre, Andy wiping blood from her face, catching her breath. She looks unharmed, so Nicky goes to Nile, watching as she gasps back to life, the last of her nose regrowing.

“Ow,” she says. “Oh, did we win?”

“We won,” Joe says, grinning as he leans down and helps her up.

“How’s your head?” Nicky asks.

“Sore,” Nile says.

“Next time, try not to catch the grenade with your face,” Andy says dryly.

“It’s not like I did it on purpose,” Nile grumbles.

___

The ride back to the safehouse is a long one. Mission over, they can relax, Andy snoozing in the backseat, and Nile on her phone next to her, engrossed in some sort of game. Joe is driving, his cap on backwards, containing his curls, one hand lazily controlling the wheel, the other dangling out the open window. Nicky sits next to him in the passenger seat, quietly admiring his husband.

Joe catches him looking, as he always does, and flashes him a grin. “Like what you see, my love?”

The husk of his voice makes Nicky shift a little in his seat. Lust has been quietly simmering under his skin after the fight, but now is not the time to act on it, not with the two most important women in their lives in the backseat of the car. Well, Andy probably wouldn’t mind, but Nile would probably try to wash her eyes out with bleach.

“Always,” Nicky says, licking his lips.

Joe’s grin turns dirty, and he slides a little down in his seat, deliberately spreading his legs more, so the material of his pants stretches across the powerful muscles of his thighs, the thick bulge between his legs. Nicky’s gaze is helplessly drawn down, and he bites his lip, a blush spreading across his cheeks.

Joe waggles his eyebrows, and Nicky huffs a laugh. But the heat still lingers in his veins, and as Joe turns back to the road, Nicky rests his head back against the headrest, and hopes the rest of the ride will go by fast.

___

They get to the safehouse at around two in the morning. Andy is exhausted, and disappears into her room she shares with Nile, who also looks a little worse for wear. Having to regrow a brain would do that. Nile also tells Nicky and Joe good night, and heads for bed.

Nicky follows after his husband as Joe heads towards their own room, eyes roving over Joe’s broad back as Joe leads the way, carrying himself confidently as he always does. Before Yusuf Nicky had never been attracted to the way someone had walked, but with the way Joe moves, so sure, every step deliberate, Nicky can’t not find it bewitching. Everything Joe does is attractive. It’s just the way his husband is.

In the privacy of their room, Joe turns to him, and Nicky suddenly finds himself pushed back against the door, Joe pressed up close to him, warm breath heavy in his ear.

“Joe?” Nicky asks, already breathless with the contact, with the feel of Joe’s hard body against his, his thick beard rasping against his neck.

“Don’t act all innocent,” Joe says into his ear, “we both know you aren’t, not with the way you’ve been looking at me the past few hours.” His hands are already working at Nicky’s belt, his feet kicking Nicky’s further apart.

Oh, yes. As much as Nicky loves their slow, passionate, intimate lovemaking, full of endearments and whispered compliments, he also loves their rough, intense fuck sessions as well. It never fails to get him hard when Joe treats him like this, hands gripping tight and voice growling low, powerful masculine body pushing at Nicky’s to submit, to give into every one of Joe’s desires.

And Nicky does willingly. He lets Joe strip him, buttons flying as Joe rips his shirt from his body and shoves down his pants and underwear to his knees. They kiss once, twice, teeth clicking and tongues wrangling, breaths heavy between them. Nicky moans as Joe bites at his lip and then sucks at it, rubbing the skin around Nicky’s mouth red with his beard. They break apart and Joe turns him around roughly, pressing Nicky’s cheek against the door and biting at the back of his neck.

Nicky lets out a breathless cry as Joe wraps a calloused hand out his cock, and then moans as Joe slaps a hand over his mouth to stifle his noises.

“Shh, Nicolo, you do not want to wake up the ladies with your mewling,” Joe chuckles, and even though Nicky wants to tell him he does not mewl, thank you very much, he’s much too distracted by Joe’s fist on his cock and Joe’s cock pressing against his ass, Joe grinding it into him through his clothes. Besides, Joe’s palm over his mouth is doing a good job of blocking most of Nicky’s wanton cries, so Nicky doesn’t think he’s going to be able to get a word out anyway.

And then Joe’s fingers are slipping between his lips, shoving into his mouth and playing with his tongue. “Get them nice and wet, babe,” Joe says into his ear, nipping at his lobe, “it’s all you’re going to get.”

Nicky whimpers around the thick digits, tasting sweat and skin and Joe, doing his best to slick Joe’s fingers up as his eyes roll into the back of his head, Joe’s hand quickly bringing him to the brink of orgasm. His cock pulses in Joe’s grip, and he lets out a muffled whine in warning. Joe knows his body like his own, however, and his hand is gone from Nicky’s leaking cock before Nicky’s whine can break off.

Joe pulls his fingers out of Nicky’s mouth with a wet pop, Nicky chasing after them helplessly, whimpering, before Joe replaces it with his other hand. His saliva slick fingers probe between Nicky’s cheeks and find his hole, circling it once teasingly before two push in and Nicky arches, keening into Joe’s palm, his hands clenching into fists where they are braced against the door.

“Always so tight, my love,” Joe says into his ear, chuckling as Nicky tightens around his fingers as he pumps them efficiently in and out, spreading saliva inside Nicky’s hole, the rim of Nicky’s entrance clinging to his knuckles. He unerringly finds Nicky’s prostate and Nicky wails, knees going weak.

Joe easily keeps him pushed against the door, abusing Nicky’s prostate with the tips of his fingers. He scrapes his beard across the back of Nicky’s neck, rubbing the skin raw, and Nicky’s quickly turned into a whimpering mess, tears gathering at the corners of his eyes. He would beg, if Joe’s hand was not so efficiently gagging him.

Joe’s fingers withdraw and Nicky mourns the loss of them, trembling where Joe has him trapped, but he moans as he hears Joe undoing his belt buckle and unzipping his pants, spitting into his palm, the sound of him slicking up his own cock loud in Nicky’s ears.

And then finally, finally, something blunt and hot and hard presses against Nicky’s puckered hole, and Nicky instinctively relaxes, letting Joe push in, his cock carving it’s way into Nicky’s body. The slide is almost too dry, Joe’s thick, heavy cock dragging against his delicate insides, but Nicky relishes in the stretch, the familiar and loved sensation of his husband penetrating him deep. Joe’s hips come to rest against his ass and Nicky goes boneless, helpless and skewered on Joe’s prick.

“Mm, fuck,” Joe growls, pulling his hips back and then snapping them forward again. His powerful thrust sends Nicky’s body roughly into the door, and Nicky sobs, panting into Joe’s hand. Joe sets a brutal pace right off the bat, fucking him fast and hard, making Nicky see stars dance across his vision.

For a while the room is only filled with the sounds of skin slapping on skin, Joe’s low grunts and Nicky’s muffled cries, the dull thud of Nicky’s body being shoved into the door again and again. But then Joe growls and pulls back, annoyed that he can’t kick Nicky’s feet wider as his ankles are hobbled by his pants. He spins Nicky back around, helping Nicky’s shaking legs step out of his clothing, before grabbing both of Nicky’s legs and heaving him up.

Nicky scrambles for purchase on the doorframe as Joe throws his legs over his shoulder and presses him tight back against the door, almost bending him in half. Joe uses his weight and one hand pressing Nicky’s knee back to keep Nicky pinned in place and shoves forward with his hips, entering Nicky fast and hard again. Nicky’s eyes roll up and he lets out a loud moan as the new angle sends Joe’s cock even deeper inside of him.

“Hush,” Joe tells him, slapping his palm again over Nicky’s mouth. The new position is hard to keep, and they end up sliding down the door, Joe kneeling with Nicky’s ass in his lap, his legs still slung over Joe’s broad shoulders. Joe’s dark eyes glitter as he watches Nicky’s expression come apart as he keeps the hard pace, fucking his pretty husband like he wants, like he deserves. Thoroughly, and well.

“Come on, babe, yeah, that’s it, come on my cock, I know you want to,” Joe groans, letting more filth drop from his lips. He shoves his fingers into Nicky’s mouth and Nicky sucks messily at them, gaze starting to unfocus as his back arches. Knowing that Nicky is close to coming, Joe moves up on his knees a bit and fucks in harder, deeper, cock spearing Nicky open, wanting to watch Nicky come undone.

And come undone Nicky does, his bobbing, aching red cock thickening and then expelling a stream of hot white liquid over his own stomach. He clenches down hard around Joe’s dick and Joe grunts, baring his teeth as he tips over the edge as well, joining Nicky in ecstasy.

When they both come back down to earth, Joe lets his hand fall from Nicky’s mouth, saliva wet over Nicky’s chin. He peppers kisses over Nicky’s flushed and sweaty face, and Nicky laughs breathlessly. “Mmm, that was just what I needed,” he sighs, revelling in the ache in his ass, his thighs.

“Glad to be of service,” Joe says, smiling as he swoops down to kiss his husband tenderly. Nicky kisses him back, hands running over Joe’s biceps and strong shoulders, touch still just as admiring as before. He is so very lucky to have the husband he has.

Prompt: https://theoldguardkinkmeme.dreamwidth.org/4011.html?thread=1158059#cmt1158059

“Good book, huh?” Nile said. Nicky looked up to see her standing next to his table, and realised that it had got dark outside while he’d been absorbed.

“Yes, it is,” he said, shuffling aside two empty coffee cups to put it down. “Has Andy sent you to kick me out in favour of customers who are still ordering things?”

“Andy has sent me to clear your table and remind you that three coffees and a glass of wine aren’t a meal, so either you eat something here, or she’s kicking you out to find food somewhere else. But no pressure.” Nile waggled her eyebrows.

Nicky laughed. Labrys was his favourite place; café by day, whiskey bar by night, owned by two good friends, always somewhere he felt comfortable camping out and reading a book. “Tell Andy I will go do that soon. I just want to finish this chapter.”

“What brought on the desire to read about…” Nile craned to read off the title. “Islamic perspectives on the Crusades? Shit, I think that’s on my assigned reading list. I might have to borrow it off you.”

Nile was a PhD student; this was her weekend job, which Nicky knew she mostly had because Andy was very flexible about her hours and let her read when it was quiet. It was in the hours after the café business had finished and before the whiskey really started flowing, so the place was practically empty right now except for two men, recently arrived, about three tables over from Nicky in his comfy window spot. Nicky noticed them particularly because when Nile mentioned her reading list, she turned to look at them.

“Certainly, when I’m done,” said Nicky. “What’s so interesting about those two over there?”

“That’s my supervisor,” Nile said, lowering her voice. “Blind date. I know because he asked me if I’d mind if he brought him here, or if it would be too weird. I said it was fine. But I think it’s not going too well.”

Nile had mentioned her supervisor in passing a time or two. Nicky knew that he was a senior lecturer who didn’t yet have a permanent position, very kind, and his surname was al-Kaysani. Nile had not mentioned that he was extremely handsome, with a head of dark curls, very nice arms, and a beautiful smile. Nicky could see already, though, that Nile was right about the date not going well; the other man, a slightly ferrety-looking white Englishman in some sort of strange hoodie-blazer, wasn’t letting Senior Lecturer al-Kaysani get a word in edgeways. The beautiful smile was being deployed in a way Nicky recognised from his own job as a nurse; professionally. This was not deterring the Englishman. Or of course, perhaps the Englishman was al-Kaysani, but that didn’t seem at all likely, nor did his demeanor match Nile’s stories.

“Well,” Nicky said, because he had nearly finished his glass of wine and the mood struck him, “if he needs to be rescued, just let me know.”

“You know what, I might,” said Nile.

Nicky didn’t end up finishing his chapter, or leaving; he ordered another glass of wine, and listened. The Englishman, whose name seemed to be Stephen, simply would not stop talking. All his stories were about how important he was, and how much money he had, and how his company was going to change the world. Al-Kaysani was glancing more and more frequently at the door.

After another fifteen minutes or so, Nicky spotted Nile behind the bar, texting. A second later, al-Kaysani looked at his phone, and started texting back.

“Excuse me, Joe,” the Englishman said at once. “Not to tell you what to do, but when I go on a date with someone, I expect them to give it their full attention. You’ve certainly got mine.”

“Right, right, sorry,” said al-Kaysani – Joe. “It’s one of my students.”

“Surely you have office hours,” scoffed the Englishman.

“I do, but I take my job very seriously,” said Joe. “I’m there to mentor them, not just to teach them.”

The Englishman made another deprecating noise, and launched into a diatribe about the uselessness of PhD students who interned at his company. Nicky’s phone vibrated in his pocket. He pulled it out to see a text from an unknown number.

Nile gave me your number. Still willing to interrupt? You’d be my hero.

Nicky waited until the Englishman was in full flight, caught Joe’s eyes, and nodded, once. Out of the other man’s line of sight, just under the table, Joe gave him a thumbs-up.

Nicky threw back the last of his second glass, grabbed his book and his jacket, and left the café as quietly as possible, out the side exit to the garden seating, which was empty because it was pouring down, in traditional English summer fashion. He dashed around to the front and let himself stand in the rain long enough that he’d evidently been outside. Then he strode in the main door, putting a little too much force into it so that the left-hand door banged off the wall, the way that he knew it did because he’d been here so many times.

Nile looked up from the bar; the Englishman looked around, scowling; Joe sat bolt upright, meeting Nicky’s gaze. He’d got the cue. Excellent.

“Joe?” Nicky said, loudly and in as stunned a voice as he could manage, and then remembered that Joe probably didn’t know his name.

Fortunately, that didn’t seem to matter. “I – I don’t know what to say,” said Joe. “I – what are you doing in London?”

“I live here now,” said Nicky, walking slowly towards their table, letting himself be captured by Joe’s gaze. It wasn’t hard; Joe had beautiful eyes, deep and dark and with smile lines at the corners. Nicky could look into eyes like that all day.

“I didn’t know,” breathed Joe.

“Excuse me,” said the Englishman, very loudly. They both ignored him.

“I know this isn’t the time or the place,” Nicky said, stopping about a metre away, “but forgive me, tesoro, I have to say – I am so sorry for how things ended.”

“It wasn’t your fault,” said Joe, standing up. “It was mine, mio caro.” He switched fluidly to Italian. “ How far are you willing to take this? ”

“ As far as you like, I’m having fun ,” Nicky said in the same language.

“How can you say that? I know it was unforgivable -”

“No, no,” Joe said, took Nicky in his arms, and kissed him on the mouth.

As first kisses with strangers went, it wasn’t the best Nicky had ever had, but that was mostly because they were both smiling into it, a second away from breaking their composure. Joe made up for that by bending Nicky over his arm dramatically; Nicky threw both arms around him and clung on. Someone whistled. It was almost certainly Andy’s wife Quynh.

“ExCUSE ME,” said the Englishman, shooting up from his chair; he was beet red. “I don’t know what sort of date you call this, but -”

“I don’t think it’s going to work out, Stephen,” Joe said, sort of apologetically but not very sincerely. “We have some catching up to do. Good luck with, uh, the dating thing.”
Stephen, if that was his name, started spluttering. Nicky grabbed Joe by the hand and dragged him out of the café. It was still raining; they made a dash down the road to stand under a bus shelter.

“Shit!” said Joe. “I left my jacket.”

“I’m sure Nile can grab it for you,” said Nicky. “Unless you want to go back in there.”

“No.” Joe shivered. “No thank you. I couldn’t hear myself think over the sound of his voice, and I work with academics, I’m practically immune to that. This is the last time I let anybody from biology set me up on a blind date, screw you, Meta.” He shook his head, as if casting that whole line of thought away. “I am so sorry; I don’t even know your name.”

“Nicky,” said Nicky, holding out his hand; they shook. “I am a friend of Nile’s. We provide medical aid at protests together.” He didn’t mind telling Joe that; Nile had told him he knew about that particular hobby of hers, if you could call it a hobby.

“Nicky,” repeated Joe. “Well, Nicky, you really are my hero this evening. Can I buy you a drink, to say thank you?”

“You don’t owe me anything, it was my pleasure,” Nicky said, “but…unless you have had enough of blind dates for the evening, and I take no offense whatsoever if you have…I was about to go and get a proper dinner. Would you join me?”

Joe didn’t even hesitate; it was the most flattering thing that had happened to Nicky in years. “Of course. I need to hear the full story of how you cruelly broke my heart, and where, and when, and how we have fatefully recollided in a foreign city.” He winked. “And if I’m, very lucky, maybe there will be a proper kiss at the end of it, instead of the show we put on in there.”

“Sounds like a romance,” Nicky said, holding out his arm. “I’m excited to see how it plays out.”

“Me too,” said Joe, taking his arm. The rain had slowed to a drizzle. They stepped out from the shelter, and walked up the road together.

*

“Is Joe coming back for his jacket?” Andy asked Nile, an hour later. “I owe him and Nicky a drink each on the house, for that performance. Funniest thing that’s happened in here for months.”

“I don’t think so,” Nile said, showing Andy her phone. There was a text on it from Nicky.

Taking your supervisor out for dinner. He’ll come and get his jacket tomorrow. Don’t wait up.

“Damn,” said Andy. “Smooth work, Nicky.”

Nile laughed. “Looked like a team effort to me.”

For this prompt (https://theoldguardkinkmeme.dreamwidth.org/2726.html?thread=589990#cmt589990)

"Joe accidentally stands up Nicky on a very important date, can be whatever! Their relationship is still new, Nicky has a lot of doubt and insecurities about himself and questions if he’s even a good fit for Joe some days. Unfortunately, date night gets ruined because the universe just works that way and Joe has a lot of making up to do."

Idiota, Nico thinks viciously to himself. He is a fool. An idiot! Stupid selfish man. It is not enough that Yusaf is his friend and brother in this endless life. He cannot be satisfied that Yusaf has forgiven him for Nico's many sins against him. Wanting more is greed as great as that of the Kings who Nico had followed to the Holy Land.

"Idiota!" he rebukes himself again.

There is no-one to hear. The small hut that he shares with Yusaf is empty and dull for the lack of him. The bright summer sunlight feels dimmer than a candle compared to the radiance of Yusaf's presence. Nico scrubs at the sting in his eyes and curses himself for a selfish sinner.

Yusaf al-Kaysani is the sun in Nico's life; he brings light, laughter and joy and warms a heart that Nico had not even known was frozen. His voice is a song, his words a Psalm and his embrace is everything Nico craves. He is an angel given flesh and long life and Nico is not the only one who is drawn to him. Nico thinks of the big dusty moths who are drawn to their oil-lamp at night, careless of their own ruin in their desire to be close to that golden light.

It was stupid foolish pride to think that Nico was anything special. The lamp does not favour any moth. It exists and they fling themselves towards it.

Nico sits on their bed and sighs. He is being pathetic. He is Yusaf's friend. He knows that Yusaf cares for him. He has spent enough time tucked under Yusaf's arm as he is introduced to the ever-changing throng who gather around him in every town they linger in to know that Yusaf values him. Nico is not such a fool that he will reject Yusaf's friendship because he cannot have more.

Really, he thinks, what does he have to offer to Yusaf? Nico's Arabic is an abomination, his Greek stilted and clumsy and even in his own tongue, Nico speaks in blunt, ugly sentences. He burns like a candle-wick in the sun. His eyes and hair mark him for a Frank and have drawn unfriendly attention more than a dozen times. He is a competent traveller and bakes tolerably well. His voice is tolerable and he picks up songs easily enough. He is a reasonably good fighter. Nothing like Yusaf's lyrical speech and strength.

Nico is nothing without Yusaf but Yusaf without Nico would be little changed. Nico has always known this so he should not be so melancholy.

"Nico? Yusaf? Are you there?"

"Quynh?" Nico goes to the door and Quynh is there, smiling and pink-cheeked from the hot sun. She embraces him warmly and Nico feels a little lighter for having her here. "We did not expect you until the new moon."

"There is trouble," she says. "Slavers."

Nico frowns. "Where is Andromache?"

"She had to meet an ally," Quynh says. "She will come as soon as she can."

"It is not like her to send you alone," Nico says. It is simply the truth; Andromache begrudges any time spent apart from Quynh as wasted. He can count the times they have been separated in the seven years he has known them on a single hand. The Church Nico died for would say their love is sin. Nico knows it is holy because he has seen how much more brightly they shine together.

"She could not stop me," Quynh says with a toss of her hair and a faint frown. She follows Andromache, as they all do but Quynh is older and chafes at Andromache's caution sometimes. "Where is Yusaf?"

"Out," Nico steps aside to let her enter, abashed at his rudeness. "Please, come in."

"Out?" Quynh is the sister of his heart. Only Yusaf knows him better. In the most private matters of his heart, not even Yusaf knows him so well. "Where has he gone?"

"Amir invited him for dinner," Nico says, using the excuse of his sword and halberk to turn away from her sharp eyes.

"Amir?"

"The olive merchant," Nico says shortly.

"The man with the oily beard?" Quynh wrinkles her nose as if she smells something foul.

"The poet," Nico says because he knows what Yusaf values. "He has been very kind to us."

"He wants to use his wares with Yusaf, you mean," Quynh says with a knowing glint in her eye. "And you just let him go off alone."

"I was not invited," Nico says honestly. Yusaf had called it an oversight but Nico had seen Amir's hungry eyes and declined to press the matter. He is not skilled in this style of courtship which can at best be overlooked by a family and will never end in marriage but if even he could see the signs, Yusaf must have understood them as plainly as Amir's musical Arabic. Nico would have been a distraction

"Nicolo!" Quynh shakes his arm chidingly. "I thought you were wooing him?"

"I was a greedy fool," Nico says tightly. "I will not get in his way."

Quynh considers him then takes him in her arms again.

"He is a blind fool," she says against his chest. "I will tell him so!"

"Do not," Nico begs but he melts in her arms all the same. "He is my friend. That is more than I deserved."

"You have such love," Quynh says but she tightens her embrace and they stand together for a few moments. She lets him go reluctantly, hands trailing down his arms to catch his hands. She looks into his eyes for a long moment before she lets go.

"So," Nico says gruffly. "About those slavers?"

She allows the change of subject and describes what little is known about them as Nico goes about girding himself for the fight ahead. It will be a hard fight but Nico does not fear combat. He asks some questions, Quynh answers what she can and they discuss what she cannot.

He hesitates over the small sack of gifts. His pride urges him to discard it, throw it away before Yusaf can see what a fool he's been. Nico's hand tightens against the weave of it and he drops it on the small table where Yusaf's cloak is neatly folded. It was foolish to think Yusaf would acknowledge the decade of peace since last they killed each other but the gifts were chosen to make Yusaf smile. Yusaf should not be deprived because of Nico's pride.

He turns to Quynh, settling his sword-belt and noting that his halberk will need repairs soon. "Let us go."

~*~

The sun hangs over the horizon like an overripe fruit as Yusaf makes his way along the road. The chill of evening is slowly seeping through the dry heat of the day and he breathes deeply. The air is fresh and clear and he quickens his step. His belly is full, his throat sore and the smoke of the hookah clings to his clothes. It has been a good day filled with good company but Yusaf's step quickens as he leaves the town behind him. His pleasant weariness is nothing compared to how eagerly he wishes to see Nico.

Yusaf laughs at himself. Barely half the day's span was spent apart and yet, his heart leaps as if they had been separated for months! He is an honest man, to himself at least, so he cheerfully acknowledges that every moment spent apart from Nicolo is one that he spends eager to rejoin him.

Amir had been pleasant enough company and Yusaf knows that Nico is a solitary soul. Yusaf has been a boisterous man since his boyhood and knows that he can be loud. An afternoon spent at the coffee house with Amir is a small sacrifice to ease Nico's discomfort.

He hears the sound of hooves behind him and turns with a hand on his scimitar.

"Yusaf!?"

"Andromache," he beams, raising his hands in greeting. "I did not expect you both until the new..."

He trails off because there is only one horse and only one rider. Andromache is staring down at him but she does not seem frenzied so it cannot be that Quynh is in danger. Still, it seems almost blasphemy to see her parted from her love. They travel apart at times, he knows but Yusaf cannot help but see himself and Nico in their constant companionship.

"What are you doing?" Andromache demands.

"Returning home after some excellent conversation on the Sufi poets," Yusaf says easily enough.

"Why were you at the coffee house?" Andromache snaps.

"Amir invited me," Yusaf says, beginning to bristle a little at her tone.

"Dammit, Yusaf!" Andromache swears like a sailor but rarely with such passion.

"What? What is wrong?"

"You were supposed to be with Nico," she tells him and dread runs like ice down his spine. Yusaf strains to see but their home is still distant.

"Why? What has happened?"

Andromache hauls him onto her horse behind her and sets her heels to its flanks. As they race along the road, she explains in short bursts; the slavers, Quynh's determination, her own delay and the compromise that sent Quynh to the door.

"You were supposed to be busy," she tells him, "romancing Nico."

Yusaf nearly falls off the horse. "Romancing—? Why in Allah's name did you think I would be romancing Nico?"

He had thought his hopeless yearning was private! Yusaf has known since their first bloody encounter that Nico is beautiful as any angel but the years since have shown his love to have a kind and generous heart with a sweet soul and gentle hands. Yusaf thinks of him in poetry because no language can grasp Nico's grace and noble bearing. He has considered a thousand advances but Nico's Church holds love between men as abomination and nothing is worth the risk of driving Nico from his side.

"He had plans," Andromache says crossly. "Ten years today, he said."

"Ten years?" Yusaf does not understand until he does. They do not mark the years in the same way but there is surely only one event that Nico would choose to remember so kindly. "The day we put up our swords and were friends?"

"You have never been friends," Andromache huffs but she relents at Yusaf's unspoken horror. "There has always been more than friendship between you. He spent weeks finding gifts for you. Quynh told me that it was sweet."

"You did not think it was sweet?" Yusaf teases. It pleases Andromache ascribe her kinder sentiments to Quynh.

"I thought it was lovely," she says instead of teasing him in turn and her sincerity rips away all his defenses.

There is no-one waiting in their little hut. The fire has not been lit and Nico's sword and halberk are gone along with the newer waterskin. Andromache swears fluently and in the name of several gods that Yusaf does not recognize. He is stopped by the small sack left on the table. He opens it to find a small hoard of treasures; a new bottle of ink, a pen with a fine steel nib, a fine bristled brush, a silver ring with fine detail and a rolled up prayer mat made from Tunisian silk. The mat is almost identical to the one that wore through after Yusaf's long campaign against the Franks but a rich blue instead of washed out green.

Yusaf stares at them all until Andromache turns to him impatiently. The sight of his tears stills her tongue. Yusaf holds out his hands, helpless and tongue-tied and she looks at them.

"He loves me," Yusaf manages.

Her expression is eloquent but Andromache only says "I know."

Then she hurries him out the door and back onto the horse and they ride into the gathering dark. Yusaf's heart is full to bursting with love and fear. The men that Andromache describes are hard and cruel and he fears for his love. Nico fights like a man possessed when he must but he can still be overwhelmed. Their gift keeps Death from claiming them but Nico can still be hurt terribly. Yusaf fears what such men might do to two victims who cannot die.

The moon rises and Yusaf sees two figures and a horse coming slowly towards them. Andromache sees them in the same moment and urges her horse to one last dash. Yusaf has eyes only for the man limping alongside the weary horse with blood on his face and his hair hanging in disheveled spikes. Nico lifts his head, hand dropping to the hilt of his sword and oh, his expression!

Weariness makes Nico honest and what Yusaf sees in his eyes banishes the last of doubts beyond any hope of recall. Yusaf does not dismount so much as fling himself at his bewildered love. Nico yelps and fails to catch him so they end up sprawled together on the sand. Nico wheezes but Yusaf kisses him before he can catch his breath. Nico's mouth is soft and his lips are dry and catch when Yusaf kisses him again and again. They're both talking, babbling really as their breaths mingle and their sisters laugh. Yusaf barely notices, all his attention on the wonder and joy in his beloved's eyes.

"My heart," he says. "My moon. My love."

"My everything," Nico says with the urgent honesty that leaves Yusaf breathless. Yusaf grasps his face between both hands and kisses him again.

Keane/Merrick Crack Ship

second hand heart (no less beautiful) - Joe/Nicky, BDSM

Joe/Nicky - Intersex Nicky

Fill: Joe/Nicky, team, D/s

Joe/Nicky, Joe/team, team oral

Fill: Joe/Nicky, Nicky/Team, Omega!Nicky, pt. 1

Fill - Trespass Against Nicky/Joe, References to Non-con (non-explicit)

FILL: Joe/Nicky + team, different types of kisses

Andy/Nile/Booker, Cock & balls torture

FILL: All Hail The Algorithm, Joe/Nicky - modern arranged marriage [1/?]