On balance, Yusuf should be shocked it takes nearly a century for Andromache to stumble upon his little secret. They share close quarters, or no quarters at all under the stars, and there is little they don’t know about each other. It is only out of respect for the women that Nico refrains from playing with his hair too much when no privacy is to be had (“I love you, darling, but you wail like a cat in heat when I pull your hair”).
Andromache has little respect for anything.
They are sparring, because apparently it is not enough for her to spend their endless years fighting for justice, they must also do it for pleasure.
Yusuf has tried to get her interested in poetry, or art, or anything that makes their endless fighting worthwhile. Thusfar, he has had little success.
Andromache also fights dirty.
Yusuf is taller and broader than her (he wouldn’t dare to claim to be stronger), but she is lithe and quick and liable to exploit every weakness he has, as he quickly discovers when she grabs a fistful of his hair and wrenches his head back to get her dagger at his throat.
He’s on his knees before he fully realizes what’s happening.
To her credit, she steps back instantly.
Nico is by his side in an instant, hands soft as they card through Yusuf’s hair, which really doesn’t help but at least allows him to calm his breathing a bit.
“Perhaps,” he hears Nico say above him, “you should keep your hands out of his hair. It’s a bit sensitive, for him.”
“I can see that,” Andromache says, sounding richly amused. Yusuf’s cheeks burn with shame.
“Don’t be embarrassed,” she advises him, petting his shoulder. “I think that affected your lover just as badly as you.”
She’s not wrong, Joe is at eye level with Nicky’s interest, and it’s substantial.
Because Andromache is a cruel woman, she tugs at his hair again before leaving him and Nicky alone in the clearing, whistling as she heads off to help Quynh hunt for dinner.
Joe moans into Nicky’s hip and fumbles at the tie to his trousers until they’re around his ankles and he can silence his noises around Nicky’s cock as he sucks and sucks and Nicky pulls his hair until they’re both coming so hard neither of them can stand for a half an hour afterwards.
In the morning, Andromache announces a new training plan, because while it may be funny, Yusuf’s hair may also be a weakness in battle, and he needs to be desensitized.
The training plan goes down in their shared history as one of Andromache’s few failures, but Yusuf does learn to fight with an erection.
-
The advent of privacy and the soul-crushing nature of both Andy and Booker’s grief allows a small reprieve for Joe in which only Nicky is capable of reducing him to nothing but sensation.
The year-long hiatus in which the entire team regroups after Booker’s betrayal and Quynh’s resurfacing puts an end to it.
It’s no one’s fault but Nicky’s, this time, Joe maintains.
Nicky would argue that it’s Joe’s fault for snacking before dinner.
Either way, it is an inopportune moment: It’s Nicky’s turn to cook, and Joe loves when he cooks, he’s so very in charge. It awakens an impish impulse in him to follow Nicky around the kitchen like a puppy and steal cherry tomatoes and cubes of cheese and anything else tasty he can get his fingers on. When smacking Joe’s hand away from the cutting board proves ineffective, Nicky reaches to more drastic measures, and grasps a handful of his hair.
Joe’s spine turns white-hot and the blood rushes in his ears. He gasps, going lax in Nicky’s hold.
“There now, love,” Nicky says, sounding fond, if exasperated. “Will you let me cook in peace now?”
“I don’t know,” Joe says, “this really isn’t a disincentive.”
Nicky pulls a little harder, and Joe’s cock throbs, filling in his pants.
“If you want me to keep doing this later, it is.”
A low whistle from the kitchen door alerts them both to the fact that they are very much not alone.
“Damn,” Andy says. “Still?”
Nicky laughs and releases Joe. “I doubt that will ever stop working,” he says lightly, and returns to his cooking.
Joe catches his breath and opens his eyes in time to see Booker staring at him with something like embarrassment and something like arousal in his expression. “Excuse me?” He asks, voice just a touch too high.
Quynh smiles with relish. It is rare, these days, that she can explain the world to Booker and Nile. “If you want to have Joe at your mercy, you must simply pull his hair,” she tells him. “We tried to train it out of him. It was a…mixed experience.”
Both Joe and Nicky shift uncomfortably at the memory.
“How so?” Nile asks from the living room.
Andy and Quynh share a look. “It always ended in Nicky having to drag Joe off and take care of him.”
“And by take care of him,” Booker says hoarsely, “you mean—”
“I mean fuck me stupid,” Joe says with relish.
“Stupider,” Andy corrects, and given the fact that Joe’s cock is still straining against his fly, he’ll allow it.
“Didn’t that piss you off?” Nile asks, coming closer. “Why the fuck would you guys keep pulling his hair if you knew that was what it did?”
Nicky turns around to look steadily at Joe. “I think I can safely say,” he says after a pause that was definitely significantly too long, “that it enhanced the experience.”
Joe remembers how helpless he felt at the time, how he had to struggle through the rush of endorphins, the bite of pleasure at his scalp to keep his grip on his scimitar, and how he got better and better at keeping his wits about him solely through the knowledge that at the end of this torture, Nicky would be there.
He swallows heavily.
“Don’t believe us?” He smirks toward Nile and Booker, who still look shell-shocked. “Try it sometime. I won’t mind.”
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timeasmymeasure
Joe/Nicky and sort of Joe/Poly - major hair pulling kink 2/4
Date: 2020-10-09 03:22 pm (UTC)Andromache has little respect for anything.
They are sparring, because apparently it is not enough for her to spend their endless years fighting for justice, they must also do it for pleasure.
Yusuf has tried to get her interested in poetry, or art, or anything that makes their endless fighting worthwhile. Thusfar, he has had little success.
Andromache also fights dirty.
Yusuf is taller and broader than her (he wouldn’t dare to claim to be stronger), but she is lithe and quick and liable to exploit every weakness he has, as he quickly discovers when she grabs a fistful of his hair and wrenches his head back to get her dagger at his throat.
He’s on his knees before he fully realizes what’s happening.
To her credit, she steps back instantly.
Nico is by his side in an instant, hands soft as they card through Yusuf’s hair, which really doesn’t help but at least allows him to calm his breathing a bit.
“Perhaps,” he hears Nico say above him, “you should keep your hands out of his hair. It’s a bit sensitive, for him.”
“I can see that,” Andromache says, sounding richly amused. Yusuf’s cheeks burn with shame.
“Don’t be embarrassed,” she advises him, petting his shoulder. “I think that affected your lover just as badly as you.”
She’s not wrong, Joe is at eye level with Nicky’s interest, and it’s substantial.
Because Andromache is a cruel woman, she tugs at his hair again before leaving him and Nicky alone in the clearing, whistling as she heads off to help Quynh hunt for dinner.
Joe moans into Nicky’s hip and fumbles at the tie to his trousers until they’re around his ankles and he can silence his noises around Nicky’s cock as he sucks and sucks and Nicky pulls his hair until they’re both coming so hard neither of them can stand for a half an hour afterwards.
In the morning, Andromache announces a new training plan, because while it may be funny, Yusuf’s hair may also be a weakness in battle, and he needs to be desensitized.
The training plan goes down in their shared history as one of Andromache’s few failures, but Yusuf does learn to fight with an erection.
-
The advent of privacy and the soul-crushing nature of both Andy and Booker’s grief allows a small reprieve for Joe in which only Nicky is capable of reducing him to nothing but sensation.
The year-long hiatus in which the entire team regroups after Booker’s betrayal and Quynh’s resurfacing puts an end to it.
It’s no one’s fault but Nicky’s, this time, Joe maintains.
Nicky would argue that it’s Joe’s fault for snacking before dinner.
Either way, it is an inopportune moment: It’s Nicky’s turn to cook, and Joe loves when he cooks, he’s so very in charge. It awakens an impish impulse in him to follow Nicky around the kitchen like a puppy and steal cherry tomatoes and cubes of cheese and anything else tasty he can get his fingers on. When smacking Joe’s hand away from the cutting board proves ineffective, Nicky reaches to more drastic measures, and grasps a handful of his hair.
Joe’s spine turns white-hot and the blood rushes in his ears. He gasps, going lax in Nicky’s hold.
“There now, love,” Nicky says, sounding fond, if exasperated. “Will you let me cook in peace now?”
“I don’t know,” Joe says, “this really isn’t a disincentive.”
Nicky pulls a little harder, and Joe’s cock throbs, filling in his pants.
“If you want me to keep doing this later, it is.”
A low whistle from the kitchen door alerts them both to the fact that they are very much not alone.
“Damn,” Andy says. “Still?”
Nicky laughs and releases Joe. “I doubt that will ever stop working,” he says lightly, and returns to his cooking.
Joe catches his breath and opens his eyes in time to see Booker staring at him with something like embarrassment and something like arousal in his expression. “Excuse me?” He asks, voice just a touch too high.
Quynh smiles with relish. It is rare, these days, that she can explain the world to Booker and Nile. “If you want to have Joe at your mercy, you must simply pull his hair,” she tells him. “We tried to train it out of him. It was a…mixed experience.”
Both Joe and Nicky shift uncomfortably at the memory.
“How so?” Nile asks from the living room.
Andy and Quynh share a look. “It always ended in Nicky having to drag Joe off and take care of him.”
“And by take care of him,” Booker says hoarsely, “you mean—”
“I mean fuck me stupid,” Joe says with relish.
“Stupider,” Andy corrects, and given the fact that Joe’s cock is still straining against his fly, he’ll allow it.
“Didn’t that piss you off?” Nile asks, coming closer. “Why the fuck would you guys keep pulling his hair if you knew that was what it did?”
Nicky turns around to look steadily at Joe. “I think I can safely say,” he says after a pause that was definitely significantly too long, “that it enhanced the experience.”
Joe remembers how helpless he felt at the time, how he had to struggle through the rush of endorphins, the bite of pleasure at his scalp to keep his grip on his scimitar, and how he got better and better at keeping his wits about him solely through the knowledge that at the end of this torture, Nicky would be there.
He swallows heavily.
“Don’t believe us?” He smirks toward Nile and Booker, who still look shell-shocked. “Try it sometime. I won’t mind.”
-