It is a singularly excellent day for Joe. He wakes before Nicky does, cuddles closer and breathes in the sleepy warmth of him. He gets to feel Nicky wake up in his arms, stretch and groan and turn to kiss him before he even says good morning.
“I’ll make pancakes.” Nicky says, and kisses him again. He stays when Joe argues for five more minutes in bed, kissing sleepily and scratching gently at Joe’s scalp. When he does get out of bed he tucks the blankets back around Joe’s shoulders and smiles, uncomplicatedly joyful, saying, “Stay, I’ll bring it back.”
Joe likes to watch him cook, likes to steal a taste of the batter and feed Nicky blueberries, but he’s happy to stay in bed too. Their last job had been a slam dunk, only the transportation afterward left something to be desired; neither of them had managed to rest until they made it to this house, their house, by the seaside.
He doesn’t quite fall back asleep, has to get up to use the bathroom and then crawls back under the covers just listening to Nicky singing to himself in the next room. It’s like he’s dozing in a beam of sunshine, hearing Nicky so happy warms Joe to his soul.
Nicky brings back more than pancakes. There’s pancakes and eggs and tea and coffee and maple syrup and oranges that Joe didn’t even know they had. He brings all of this into the room on an overloaded tray that he sets down in Joe’s lap, fussing with teacups until Joe gently stills his hands so Nicky will look at him.
“Babe, I know this isn’t an anniversary.” Joe says, lifting Nicky’s hands to his mouth so he can kiss one and then the other. “Are you spoiling me?”
“Yes.” Nicky replies, lifting his chin stubbornly like he thinks Joe’s about to try to talk him out of it.
“Hmm, and just what do you have planned for after this feast?”
Nicky shrugs one shoulder up, taking his hands back so he can push some of the plates toward Joe, probably worried about the food getting cold. “I have some ideas but I didn't bet on you catching on so quickly, hayati. I must not be doing this enough.”
He whispers the last bit like he doesn’t quite want Joe to hear, but Joe does and he aches with it. If there weren’t an entire breakfast buffet between them he’d tackle Nicky to the bed and kiss the daylight out of him. “Nicky, you don’t have to-“
“You deserve it.” Nicky says, firm. He doesn’t go on out loud, but he stares straight into Joe’s eyes and the depth of emotion there has him melting back into the pillows and nodding slowly.
Their breakfast conversation is meandering and seemingly disjointed after that, except that they share so many memories at this point the connections between things like summer storms and specific Spanish sonnets are as clear to them both as one plus one. After Nicky clears the breakfast tray Joe does get to tackle him to the bed, laughing when Nicky rolls them back over and licks the lingering syrup stickiness from his lips, kissing him until they’re both trying to decide if they’re too full to do anything more.
Joe thinks about what he wants most in the world, something that Nicky can give him of course, and says, “Walk on the beach with me?”
“I’d love to.”
They get dressed minimally, swim trunks and button up shirts left open. It’s still early and most of their neighbors are older (in a sense), so the beach stretches out before them empty and picturesque. Nicky takes his hand and they amble along together, pausing occasionally to pick up a colorful shell or watch the waves. They talk about paint pigment and cartoons and what Nile just texted them. Joe feels weightless, not like an immortal warrior concerned with the fate of humanity but like a man deeply loved, as safe and warm and right as his hand clasped in Nicky’s.
They’ve made much longer journeys together than a slow walk up the beach and back. In some ways they’ve been making one long journey since they met each other and this is a tiny part of that, a doubling back, barely a blip in their larger trajectory. It means the world.
When they get back to the house Joe asks Nicky to sit for him, formal in a way he usually isn’t because he wants to feel truly spoiled and wants Nicky to give him that. Nicky agrees, going to find a book and losing his clothes along the way. The simple tease of his shirt hitting the floor in the hallway is almost enough to have Joe tracking down lube rather than his sketch pad, but he resists that urge for now. Only for now.
Joe finds Nicky again at the kitchen table, sitting naked in the morning sunlight, and is struck by a sudden shyness. They’ve been together so long it’s impossible for him to fully disentangle himself from Nicky but sometimes, when it’s just them, when he’s already holding all that love deep in his chest, just looking at Nicky is overwhelming. Looking at Nicky now, Joe thinks oh, he’s so beautiful.
Nicky looks up at him and goes pink, smiling softly like he can read Joe’s mind. “If I’d known a thousand years ago you would still look at me like this…” Nicky drops his gaze, shaking his head with a soft laugh.
Joe moves close enough to tilt his head up for a kiss, holding Nicky’s chin, and says, “If I’d known you would still let me look…”
“You can do more than look.” Nicky assures him, spreading his legs.
“You willfully misunderstand what sitting for me entails.” Joe laughs, kissing him again. “Come to the studio amore mio.”
Joe glances up from his sketch pad to find Nicky has moved again. He forgets he’s posing every time the book he’s reading actually captures his attention. Joe loves him, but he’s trying to draw him and Nicky’s completely shifted his pose.
“Sweetheart.” Joe calls, softly.
“Mm.” Nicky replies, not at all listening.
“Nicky, babe, you’re the most scattered model I’ve ever had.”
That Nicky hears, he glances up from his book and smiles, “You don’t pay me, hayati.”
“I would pay you,” Joe replies, tracing the image of Nicky’s lips with his thumb, “But I would have to show someone else this picture, let alone sell it to them.”
Nicky shifts gracefully back into the pose Joe had positioned him in before, rebalancing his book on his knee and spreading his legs again. Joe’s glad of that especially, because he was about ready to sketch Nicky’s cock.
“Better?” Nicky asks, smiling a little at the obvious downward direction of Joe’s gaze.
“Si, grazie.” Joe says, picking his pencil back up. Nicky chuckles softly and goes back to his book.
Joe likes drawing Nicky when he’s nude but not aroused, just lounging casually in Joe’s little studio, paying him no mind. He’s gorgeous like this, sexy and comfortable in a way that makes Joe’s art all the more intimate. There’s love, centuries of it, between them, and no shyness about their bodies.
“Have I told you lately how cute your foreskin is?” Joe asks. He loves to flirt with Nicky like this, loves to make him quirk his brow like he’s not sure it is flirting.
Nicky glances down at himself, shifting again but spreading his legs further so Joe doesn’t correct him. “Not in so many words.”
“Oh?” Joe asks, pretending forgetfulness.
Nicky goes back to his book but says, “You do like to play with it.”
“I do.” Joe admits. Nicky’s cock is always a delight, even now he’s thinking about kissing it, thinking about teasing until the head peeks out for him.
“You do.” Nicky says, turning the page. Nicky doesn’t need to say keep talking to me outright for Joe to hear it.
“I like watching you put a finger under it, like it better to get my tongue there.” Joe says, keeping his tone casual. Nicky hums agreeably, as if he’s not listening again. Joe knows better. “Or my cock. What do they call that again?”
“I’m not going to tell you.” Nicky says. His face looks unaffected, no blush, but his cock, well, Joe has the ‘before’ picture right in front of him.
“Alright, well, it’s nice when you share.” Joe teases. “I thought you were spoiling me today.”
“I am.” Nicky insists, “You think I stay naked this long for anyone else?”
“Are you cold, baby?”
“A little.”
“What did you want to do next?”
“Give you a massage. Starting with your hands.”
“Nicky.”
“Oh you’re done sketching now?” Nicky asks, stepping off the stool and setting his book down on top of it. He approaches Joe with intent, as if he’s in full chainmail with his sword at his hip rather than naked and interested. Joe shivers as Nicky circles around behind him, hooks his chin over Joe’s shoulder to consider his work and presses up against his back, hugging tight, stealing his warmth. “You are too kind in your depiction, as always.”
“I’m not. I see you truly.”
“Truly you see that I need a haircut.”
“I see you need-“ Joe starts, but Nicky claps a hand over his mouth.
“No, no. No more flirting or you’ll distract me. Come back to bed?”
Fill: Nicky/Joe - Nicky spoils Joe (1/2)
“I’ll make pancakes.” Nicky says, and kisses him again. He stays when Joe argues for five more minutes in bed, kissing sleepily and scratching gently at Joe’s scalp. When he does get out of bed he tucks the blankets back around Joe’s shoulders and smiles, uncomplicatedly joyful, saying, “Stay, I’ll bring it back.”
Joe likes to watch him cook, likes to steal a taste of the batter and feed Nicky blueberries, but he’s happy to stay in bed too. Their last job had been a slam dunk, only the transportation afterward left something to be desired; neither of them had managed to rest until they made it to this house, their house, by the seaside.
He doesn’t quite fall back asleep, has to get up to use the bathroom and then crawls back under the covers just listening to Nicky singing to himself in the next room. It’s like he’s dozing in a beam of sunshine, hearing Nicky so happy warms Joe to his soul.
Nicky brings back more than pancakes. There’s pancakes and eggs and tea and coffee and maple syrup and oranges that Joe didn’t even know they had. He brings all of this into the room on an overloaded tray that he sets down in Joe’s lap, fussing with teacups until Joe gently stills his hands so Nicky will look at him.
“Babe, I know this isn’t an anniversary.” Joe says, lifting Nicky’s hands to his mouth so he can kiss one and then the other. “Are you spoiling me?”
“Yes.” Nicky replies, lifting his chin stubbornly like he thinks Joe’s about to try to talk him out of it.
“Hmm, and just what do you have planned for after this feast?”
Nicky shrugs one shoulder up, taking his hands back so he can push some of the plates toward Joe, probably worried about the food getting cold. “I have some ideas but I didn't bet on you catching on so quickly, hayati. I must not be doing this enough.”
He whispers the last bit like he doesn’t quite want Joe to hear, but Joe does and he aches with it. If there weren’t an entire breakfast buffet between them he’d tackle Nicky to the bed and kiss the daylight out of him. “Nicky, you don’t have to-“
“You deserve it.” Nicky says, firm. He doesn’t go on out loud, but he stares straight into Joe’s eyes and the depth of emotion there has him melting back into the pillows and nodding slowly.
Their breakfast conversation is meandering and seemingly disjointed after that, except that they share so many memories at this point the connections between things like summer storms and specific Spanish sonnets are as clear to them both as one plus one. After Nicky clears the breakfast tray Joe does get to tackle him to the bed, laughing when Nicky rolls them back over and licks the lingering syrup stickiness from his lips, kissing him until they’re both trying to decide if they’re too full to do anything more.
Joe thinks about what he wants most in the world, something that Nicky can give him of course, and says, “Walk on the beach with me?”
“I’d love to.”
They get dressed minimally, swim trunks and button up shirts left open. It’s still early and most of their neighbors are older (in a sense), so the beach stretches out before them empty and picturesque. Nicky takes his hand and they amble along together, pausing occasionally to pick up a colorful shell or watch the waves. They talk about paint pigment and cartoons and what Nile just texted them. Joe feels weightless, not like an immortal warrior concerned with the fate of humanity but like a man deeply loved, as safe and warm and right as his hand clasped in Nicky’s.
They’ve made much longer journeys together than a slow walk up the beach and back. In some ways they’ve been making one long journey since they met each other and this is a tiny part of that, a doubling back, barely a blip in their larger trajectory. It means the world.
When they get back to the house Joe asks Nicky to sit for him, formal in a way he usually isn’t because he wants to feel truly spoiled and wants Nicky to give him that. Nicky agrees, going to find a book and losing his clothes along the way. The simple tease of his shirt hitting the floor in the hallway is almost enough to have Joe tracking down lube rather than his sketch pad, but he resists that urge for now. Only for now.
Joe finds Nicky again at the kitchen table, sitting naked in the morning sunlight, and is struck by a sudden shyness. They’ve been together so long it’s impossible for him to fully disentangle himself from Nicky but sometimes, when it’s just them, when he’s already holding all that love deep in his chest, just looking at Nicky is overwhelming. Looking at Nicky now, Joe thinks oh, he’s so beautiful.
Nicky looks up at him and goes pink, smiling softly like he can read Joe’s mind. “If I’d known a thousand years ago you would still look at me like this…” Nicky drops his gaze, shaking his head with a soft laugh.
Joe moves close enough to tilt his head up for a kiss, holding Nicky’s chin, and says, “If I’d known you would still let me look…”
“You can do more than look.” Nicky assures him, spreading his legs.
“You willfully misunderstand what sitting for me entails.” Joe laughs, kissing him again. “Come to the studio amore mio.”
Joe glances up from his sketch pad to find Nicky has moved again. He forgets he’s posing every time the book he’s reading actually captures his attention. Joe loves him, but he’s trying to draw him and Nicky’s completely shifted his pose.
“Sweetheart.” Joe calls, softly.
“Mm.” Nicky replies, not at all listening.
“Nicky, babe, you’re the most scattered model I’ve ever had.”
That Nicky hears, he glances up from his book and smiles, “You don’t pay me, hayati.”
“I would pay you,” Joe replies, tracing the image of Nicky’s lips with his thumb, “But I would have to show someone else this picture, let alone sell it to them.”
Nicky shifts gracefully back into the pose Joe had positioned him in before, rebalancing his book on his knee and spreading his legs again. Joe’s glad of that especially, because he was about ready to sketch Nicky’s cock.
“Better?” Nicky asks, smiling a little at the obvious downward direction of Joe’s gaze.
“Si, grazie.” Joe says, picking his pencil back up. Nicky chuckles softly and goes back to his book.
Joe likes drawing Nicky when he’s nude but not aroused, just lounging casually in Joe’s little studio, paying him no mind. He’s gorgeous like this, sexy and comfortable in a way that makes Joe’s art all the more intimate. There’s love, centuries of it, between them, and no shyness about their bodies.
“Have I told you lately how cute your foreskin is?” Joe asks. He loves to flirt with Nicky like this, loves to make him quirk his brow like he’s not sure it is flirting.
Nicky glances down at himself, shifting again but spreading his legs further so Joe doesn’t correct him. “Not in so many words.”
“Oh?” Joe asks, pretending forgetfulness.
Nicky goes back to his book but says, “You do like to play with it.”
“I do.” Joe admits. Nicky’s cock is always a delight, even now he’s thinking about kissing it, thinking about teasing until the head peeks out for him.
“You do.” Nicky says, turning the page. Nicky doesn’t need to say keep talking to me outright for Joe to hear it.
“I like watching you put a finger under it, like it better to get my tongue there.” Joe says, keeping his tone casual. Nicky hums agreeably, as if he’s not listening again. Joe knows better. “Or my cock. What do they call that again?”
“I’m not going to tell you.” Nicky says. His face looks unaffected, no blush, but his cock, well, Joe has the ‘before’ picture right in front of him.
“Alright, well, it’s nice when you share.” Joe teases. “I thought you were spoiling me today.”
“I am.” Nicky insists, “You think I stay naked this long for anyone else?”
“Are you cold, baby?”
“A little.”
“What did you want to do next?”
“Give you a massage. Starting with your hands.”
“Nicky.”
“Oh you’re done sketching now?” Nicky asks, stepping off the stool and setting his book down on top of it. He approaches Joe with intent, as if he’s in full chainmail with his sword at his hip rather than naked and interested. Joe shivers as Nicky circles around behind him, hooks his chin over Joe’s shoulder to consider his work and presses up against his back, hugging tight, stealing his warmth. “You are too kind in your depiction, as always.”
“I’m not. I see you truly.”
“Truly you see that I need a haircut.”
“I see you need-“ Joe starts, but Nicky claps a hand over his mouth.
“No, no. No more flirting or you’ll distract me. Come back to bed?”
“Always.”