...pathetically long whiny reason for late post at end. But first, fic!
———————————————- Part 17D ———————————————-
(Yusuf)
Somewhere outside of Alexandria, 12th century
“You are being watched, Nicolo,” Yusuf muttered out of the corner of his mouth.
Besides him, Nicolo pretended to adjust the longsword strapped to his hip and glanced over his right shoulder. His brow furrowed.
“I do not see anything,” Nicolo said without moving his lips. He smiled faintly at an elderly woman struggling with her basket of cured fish. He stepped in front of her, shielding her from any possible threat and with careful hand gestures, offered to help.
Yusuf bit back a grin that wanted to break free as the woman chattered by Nicolo’s ear, Nicolo nodded, humming in that polite but perplexed way of his. She spoke in a dialect of Turkish mixed with Arabic. It echoed faintly of Yusuf’s homelands and beyond Nicolo’s comprehension. But his Nicolo tried as he dutifully carried a basket with both hands.
Eyes on Nicolo’s back, Yusuf followed, his smile fading into a frown. Should Hedi’s men chose this moment to attack, Nicolo would not have his hands free.
Yusuf trailed behind the pair, one hand casually moving to the dagger strapped to his left hip. He kept his other hand free to grab his scimitar that hung across his back, waving greetings to those waving back to ensure his hand stayed within reach of his sword.
They walked through the village, through the single row of stalls that served as their market. Yusuf kept his steps on the edge of Nicolo’s shadow, his ears open for sounds that rose high pitched in alarm rather than the cheerful ones.
As like for the past two days, there was nothing. The villagers eyed Nicolo and Yusuf with bemusement as they wandered the whole of the village trice in the morning, ate a modest meal outside of the village to watch the roads and then went around the village another three times before they went home.
“I still do not see them,” Nicolo said tersely, rejoining Yusuf’s side after he carried the basket into the woman’s stall. "Where are they?"
“Eh?” Yusuf blinked at Nicolo. Then he remembered. And chuckled.
“Ah. Apologies. I meant the children we walked past.” Yusuf’s elbow gently knocked into Nicolo’s side. “I told you not to give them your sugared figs. They now follow you like our chickens in hopes of more.”
Nicolo’s brow knitted. He glanced past Yusuf’s shoulder where Yusuf suspected the littlest one was still staring wide-eyed at them. She did not have the same instinct to flee like her older siblings.
Nicolo raised his hand and hesitantly wiggled his fingers at someone behind Yusuf. Yusuf heard a giggle and the patter of small feet fleeing.
Yusuf wanted to tug Nicolo to him and kiss the baffled look off Nicolo’s face. Oh, his heart did not understand why the children adored him and why woman young and old greeted Nicolo easily.
But such gestures were not welcomed in many places. Yusuf kept a tally in his mind though of the many kisses he owes Nicolo. He would gladly repay Nicolo within the walls of their home.
“See?” Yusuf murmured as they continued walking, “they are not afraid of the sword you carry.”
Nicolo grimaced. “They do not have the memory of war.”
Yet was left unsaid.
“No,” Yusuf agreed. “They have the memory of sugared figs.” He bumped his elbow into Nicolo again. “Stop giving your food away to the little ones and our horse.”
Nicolo shot Yusuf a faint smirk, “You are only upset the horse refused your figs when you offered.”
“Bah, I did not offer it figs. I was throwing them at the ungrateful beast after it tried to bite me again.”
Nicolo scoffed. Then blinked at the jovial call of their names from afar. His stride slowed, letting Yusuf’s profile cloak him and part of his longsword.
Yusuf sharply glanced over. Nicolo ignored him, his jaw set, his arms stiffer as they walk. His longsword rattled against Yusuf’s knee.
“Nicolo—“ Yusuf began.
“I am fine,” Nicolo bit out.
The longsword knocked against Yusuf’s hip. Yusuf grunted but did not step aside.
“No one is thinking you are—“ Yusuf sighed when someone shouted angrily, at something that wheeled over his wares. Nicolo flinched as if it was directed to him.
“We should walk behind the mill next,” Yusuf suggested. “The market is safe.”
Nicolo nodded jerkily.
“Nic—“
“Not everyone are easily charmed by a few sugared figs,” Nicolo muttered low enough Yusuf needed to lean in to hear. Nicolo’s longsword smacked against the back of Yusuf’s calf. That one was sure to leave a bruise, however short-lived.
“Those who remember would refuse an olive branch or a fig no matter how sincere the offer,” Nicolo sighed. His shoulders slumped. “I need to accept that some may refuse but I do not blame them.”
Yusuf waited until they were clear of the stalls before he leaned in again.
“I would never refuse your sugared figs, hobi,” Yusuf purred, his hand reaching over. Under the guise of helping Nicolo straighten his sword, Yusuf cupped Nicolo’s cock under his trousers. He quickly hopped back, pulling his hand away when Nicolo squeaked.
Nicolo glared at Yusuf, who waggled his eyebrows.
“If they refuse you,” Yusuf added, sobering, “They are refusing me as well.”
Nicolo stared at Yusuf. His throat worked.
“Besides,” Yusuf murmured, a smirk growing, “It means more sugared figs to myself, hm?”
With a sigh, shaking his head, Nicolo gave Yusuf a half-hearted shove away.
“You are ridiculous,” Nicolo muttered. His mouth curled at the corners, his ears pinked. His steps picked up and he pulled ahead of Yusuf, his gait a loose and easy stride once again as he turned towards the mill.
Yusuf grinned to himself and continued to follow.
He was distracted by the smooth thrust of Nicolo’s hips that he almost got his head cut off.
Yusuf yelped, jumped back and blocked the swing at the last moment.
Nicolo’s brow knitted. He stilled, lowering his sword.
“Are you all right? That was not a hard move. I thought you would easily avoid it.”
Yusuf panted, pointed to the sun sinking behind Nicolo and gestured to his eyes. It would not be to his benefit to admit the shape of Nicolo’s cock under his trousers moved when his hips did that sway to spin him back. No, admitting he was increasingly partial to how clothing clings to Nicolo would not bode well for him.
“Continue,” Yusuf wheezed.
The frown deepened. “Are you sure?”
Yusuf jumped forward, his scimitar arcing up. Nicolo huffed. He dodged the blow, his sword blocking the swing.
Sword and blade rang loud in the air. The longsword was heavier, but its reach made up for its weight. Yusuf found himself darting to avoid the tip more than finding an opening.
There was a sense of memory. a sense of altered history of how they fought the first time. Yusuf did not smile as much or at all back then. The walls of the city he defended were to his back, the whine of metal and the messy spurts of spilled blood were to his front.
Nicolo did not smile then nor did he now. But the determination that darkened his eyes back then were lighter and richer now with a fondness. Yusuf could not help but react to it. He chuckled as Nicolo missed. He hooted when his scimitar crossed the sword.
"You are getting slow with your advanced years," Yusuf teased as he hopped back from the longsword. "Perhaps we should find a smith to make you a longer sword instead? A staff, perhaps? To swat at our enemies like they were flies!"
"Are you trying to slay me with your words?" Nicolo gasped, his eyes crinkled as he swept his leg under Yusuf's feet. He glowered when Yusuf leapt back on his feet. "Hold still."
"Ay, ay," Yusuf teased. "Does your eye sight fail you? Can you not see me before you? My poor Nicolo, am I moving too fast?"
Yusuf used the hilt of his blade to knock Nicolo's sword aside. He swerved around and tapped Nicolo's buttocks with the flat of the scimitar.
Nicolo sputtered as he spun around. "Yusuf," he half scolded, half laughed. He drew up to a striking stance, feet apart, shoulders readying.
Unbidden, Yusuf’s eyes wandered down to Nicolo's sweat damp trousers and the shape of a slender cock tucked slightly to the—
A mass of feathers and shiny black eyes shrieked and flapped and ruffled by the tip of Yusuf’s nose.
In all the centuries later, Yusuf will never admit that he had shrieked as well, flapping his arms at whatever fluffy monstrosity Nicolo tossed at his face. And he will never admit, under threat of anything, that he fell onto the grass on his ass, his scimitar clattering by his feet.
However, Yusuf will enjoy telling countless times of how Nicolo looked, doubled over, laughing to the point he was crying, a feather from the hen he sent Yusuf’s way stuck on his left cheek, pink-cheeked and happy.
“That,” Yusuf sputtered from the ground. He shooed the affronted chicken away, “was most unkind, hobi. And what if the feathered menace peck my eyes out?”
“They would grow back, like my ear did in Tanjari,” Nicolo managed, his chuckles fading, but his beautiful smile remained. Nicolo extended a hand towards Yusuf.
“This will teach you to look where you are supposed to and not...” Nicolo cleared his throat meaningfully.
Yusuf smiled up. He ignored the hand and folded his arms behind his head.
“Ah, or perhaps you secretly wish to temporarily blind me and make me nibble my way around in search of your cock.”
Nicolo flushed, stammered and then yelped as well when Yusuf captured his offered hand and yanked Nicolo to fall on top of him.
“Yusuf,” Nicolo grumbled, but his eyes were the color of a summer sea. “When you suggested we practice our swords before our evening meal, I expected more swords.”
“How do you expect me to fight when all you make me think about is laying you on this grass?” Yusuf rumbled. “I would have you here as my evening meal, but I fear it will upset our chickens.”
Nicolo pushed himself off Yusuf’s chest with an elbow on the grass. He huffed as he rolled to lay on the grass besides Yusuf instead. He gazed up at the sky slowly turning a shade of violet and red Yusuf thought would make a nice cloak for Nicolo. When he said this out loud, Nicolo scoffed. He thought such colors would fare better on Yusuf.
“I am a man with a gray life,” Nicolo murmured, his eyes still on the sky. “Such lively colors would be a waste on me.”
Yusuf’s chest twinge. It always does every time Nicolo says something like this.
“I hope,” Yusuf murmured, “Life with me will not be so gray, my heart.”
“Life with you,” Nicolo rasped, his voice suddenly thick, “has colors I do not even know the name of. To this day, I wonder what I have done to earn such a gift?”
And Nicolo said Yusuf has the pretty words.
Yusuf ran a knuckle across his chin, kneading his beard and hoping he was not grinning too broadly.
“You do not think it a curse?” Yusuf mused out loud. “The first year we traveled together, you often thought your God was punishing you.”
Nicolo was silent, his eyes towards the sky, his profile was serene like the statues Yusuf once gazed upon as a boy: carved blank faces yet with a warmth that glowed within like an ember. Nicolo’s nose was strong, a line that empathized the edge of his jaw and cheekbones. Nicolo’s profile could be mistaken as stern. Yet his eyes were far from hard. They were soft swirls of color that mist or sparkle by what light shines through that moment.
“I think...” Nicolo said hesitantly, stumbling over his words. “If I gained eternity, alone, without you, I would think it a curse.”
Yusuf blinked rapidly. He turned his head towards Nicolo, who still gazed at the sky. His ears were now were a feverish flush as well.
“I think,” Yusuf murmured, “It would take me an eternity to find a word that truly encompass what you mean to me and how I feel about you. But until then, will you humbly accept “I love you” for now?”
Nicolo closed his eyes. He sniffed loudly, yet his eyes were dry when he opened them again. He turned on his side, facing Yusuf.
Yusuf smiled. He brushed away the feather still on Nicolo’s cheek.
“Would I be too greedy to ask you to tell me again?” Nicolo whispered.
Yusuf rolled to face Nicolo. “Should I haggle? How many more times should I assault your poor ears with such simple words?”
“...forever?” Nicolo ventured, hesitant.
Yusuf smiled as he sat on with an elbow.
“I think that is more than a fair price,” Yusuf breathed. He leaned in, pressing his body over Nicolo’s, aligning the heat and swells between their legs.
“No more swords then?” Nicolo groaned out as Yusuf rocked against him. “Should we not talk about what to have for our evening me—Yusuf.”
“I,” Yusuf growled as he hooked fingers into Nicolo’s trousers to pull them down, “have decided I will have you as the evening meal.”
Nicolo’s eyes flared, a blue no water or sky could ever achieve. He wrapped his arms around Yusuf’s shoulders and let himself be devoured.
---------------------------- ...sigh. Apparently I went to bed after my shift ended Weds at 2AM and slept all the way to 8PM last night. (facepalm) Missed two classes. Luckily I didn't have work. Tad annoyed my dear fam didn't seem concerned enough to go and poke me in my bed to see if I still breathed. LOL.
Hence, the boring no-sex, mushy part here as I try to explain to my teachers why I was a log yesterday.
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timeasmymeasure
NEW PARTS START HERE: Needs of the Other 17D/20
Date: 2020-11-12 09:34 pm (UTC)———————————————-
Part 17D
———————————————-
(Yusuf)
Somewhere outside of Alexandria, 12th century
“You are being watched, Nicolo,” Yusuf muttered out of the corner of his mouth.
Besides him, Nicolo pretended to adjust the longsword strapped to his hip and glanced over his right shoulder. His brow furrowed.
“I do not see anything,” Nicolo said without moving his lips. He smiled faintly at an elderly woman struggling with her basket of cured fish. He stepped in front of her, shielding her from any possible threat and with careful hand gestures, offered to help.
Yusuf bit back a grin that wanted to break free as the woman chattered by Nicolo’s ear, Nicolo nodded, humming in that polite but perplexed way of his. She spoke in a dialect of Turkish mixed with Arabic. It echoed faintly of Yusuf’s homelands and beyond Nicolo’s comprehension. But his Nicolo tried as he dutifully carried a basket with both hands.
Eyes on Nicolo’s back, Yusuf followed, his smile fading into a frown. Should Hedi’s men chose this moment to attack, Nicolo would not have his hands free.
Yusuf trailed behind the pair, one hand casually moving to the dagger strapped to his left hip. He kept his other hand free to grab his scimitar that hung across his back, waving greetings to those waving back to ensure his hand stayed within reach of his sword.
They walked through the village, through the single row of stalls that served as their market. Yusuf kept his steps on the edge of Nicolo’s shadow, his ears open for sounds that rose high pitched in alarm rather than the cheerful ones.
As like for the past two days, there was nothing. The villagers eyed Nicolo and Yusuf with bemusement as they wandered the whole of the village trice in the morning, ate a modest meal outside of the village to watch the roads and then went around the village another three times before they went home.
“I still do not see them,” Nicolo said tersely, rejoining Yusuf’s side after he carried the basket into the woman’s stall. "Where are they?"
“Eh?” Yusuf blinked at Nicolo. Then he remembered. And chuckled.
“Ah. Apologies. I meant the children we walked past.” Yusuf’s elbow gently knocked into Nicolo’s side. “I told you not to give them your sugared figs. They now follow you like our chickens in hopes of more.”
Nicolo’s brow knitted. He glanced past Yusuf’s shoulder where Yusuf suspected the littlest one was still staring wide-eyed at them. She did not have the same instinct to flee like her older siblings.
Nicolo raised his hand and hesitantly wiggled his fingers at someone behind Yusuf. Yusuf heard a giggle and the patter of small feet fleeing.
Yusuf wanted to tug Nicolo to him and kiss the baffled look off Nicolo’s face. Oh, his heart did not understand why the children adored him and why woman young and old greeted Nicolo easily.
But such gestures were not welcomed in many places. Yusuf kept a tally in his mind though of the many kisses he owes Nicolo. He would gladly repay Nicolo within the walls of their home.
“See?” Yusuf murmured as they continued walking, “they are not afraid of the sword you carry.”
Nicolo grimaced. “They do not have the memory of war.”
Yet was left unsaid.
“No,” Yusuf agreed. “They have the memory of sugared figs.” He bumped his elbow into Nicolo again. “Stop giving your food away to the little ones and our horse.”
Nicolo shot Yusuf a faint smirk, “You are only upset the horse refused your figs when you offered.”
“Bah, I did not offer it figs. I was throwing them at the ungrateful beast after it tried to bite me again.”
Nicolo scoffed. Then blinked at the jovial call of their names from afar. His stride slowed, letting Yusuf’s profile cloak him and part of his longsword.
Yusuf sharply glanced over. Nicolo ignored him, his jaw set, his arms stiffer as they walk. His longsword rattled against Yusuf’s knee.
“Nicolo—“ Yusuf began.
“I am fine,” Nicolo bit out.
The longsword knocked against Yusuf’s hip. Yusuf grunted but did not step aside.
“No one is thinking you are—“ Yusuf sighed when someone shouted angrily, at something that wheeled over his wares. Nicolo flinched as if it was directed to him.
“We should walk behind the mill next,” Yusuf suggested. “The market is safe.”
Nicolo nodded jerkily.
“Nic—“
“Not everyone are easily charmed by a few sugared figs,” Nicolo muttered low enough Yusuf needed to lean in to hear. Nicolo’s longsword smacked against the back of Yusuf’s calf. That one was sure to leave a bruise, however short-lived.
“Those who remember would refuse an olive branch or a fig no matter how sincere the offer,” Nicolo sighed. His shoulders slumped. “I need to accept that some may refuse but I do not blame them.”
Yusuf waited until they were clear of the stalls before he leaned in again.
“I would never refuse your sugared figs, hobi,” Yusuf purred, his hand reaching over. Under the guise of helping Nicolo straighten his sword, Yusuf cupped Nicolo’s cock under his trousers. He quickly hopped back, pulling his hand away when Nicolo squeaked.
Nicolo glared at Yusuf, who waggled his eyebrows.
“If they refuse you,” Yusuf added, sobering, “They are refusing me as well.”
Nicolo stared at Yusuf. His throat worked.
“Besides,” Yusuf murmured, a smirk growing, “It means more sugared figs to myself, hm?”
With a sigh, shaking his head, Nicolo gave Yusuf a half-hearted shove away.
“You are ridiculous,” Nicolo muttered. His mouth curled at the corners, his ears pinked. His steps picked up and he pulled ahead of Yusuf, his gait a loose and easy stride once again as he turned towards the mill.
Yusuf grinned to himself and continued to follow.
He was distracted by the smooth thrust of Nicolo’s hips that he almost got his head cut off.
Yusuf yelped, jumped back and blocked the swing at the last moment.
Nicolo’s brow knitted. He stilled, lowering his sword.
“Are you all right? That was not a hard move. I thought you would easily avoid it.”
Yusuf panted, pointed to the sun sinking behind Nicolo and gestured to his eyes. It would not be to his benefit to admit the shape of Nicolo’s cock under his trousers moved when his hips did that sway to spin him back. No, admitting he was increasingly partial to how clothing clings to Nicolo would not bode well for him.
“Continue,” Yusuf wheezed.
The frown deepened. “Are you sure?”
Yusuf jumped forward, his scimitar arcing up. Nicolo huffed. He dodged the blow, his sword blocking the swing.
Sword and blade rang loud in the air. The longsword was heavier, but its reach made up for its weight. Yusuf found himself darting to avoid the tip more than finding an opening.
There was a sense of memory. a sense of altered history of how they fought the first time. Yusuf did not smile as much or at all back then. The walls of the city he defended were to his back, the whine of metal and the messy spurts of spilled blood were to his front.
Nicolo did not smile then nor did he now. But the determination that darkened his eyes back then were lighter and richer now with a fondness. Yusuf could not help but react to it. He chuckled as Nicolo missed. He hooted when his scimitar crossed the sword.
"You are getting slow with your advanced years," Yusuf teased as he hopped back from the longsword. "Perhaps we should find a smith to make you a longer sword instead? A staff, perhaps? To swat at our enemies like they were flies!"
"Are you trying to slay me with your words?" Nicolo gasped, his eyes crinkled as he swept his leg under Yusuf's feet. He glowered when Yusuf leapt back on his feet. "Hold still."
"Ay, ay," Yusuf teased. "Does your eye sight fail you? Can you not see me before you? My poor Nicolo, am I moving too fast?"
Yusuf used the hilt of his blade to knock Nicolo's sword aside. He swerved around and tapped Nicolo's buttocks with the flat of the scimitar.
Nicolo sputtered as he spun around. "Yusuf," he half scolded, half laughed. He drew up to a striking stance, feet apart, shoulders readying.
Unbidden, Yusuf’s eyes wandered down to Nicolo's sweat damp trousers and the shape of a slender cock tucked slightly to the—
A mass of feathers and shiny black eyes shrieked and flapped and ruffled by the tip of Yusuf’s nose.
In all the centuries later, Yusuf will never admit that he had shrieked as well, flapping his arms at whatever fluffy monstrosity Nicolo tossed at his face. And he will never admit, under threat of anything, that he fell onto the grass on his ass, his scimitar clattering by his feet.
However, Yusuf will enjoy telling countless times of how Nicolo looked, doubled over, laughing to the point he was crying, a feather from the hen he sent Yusuf’s way stuck on his left cheek, pink-cheeked and happy.
“That,” Yusuf sputtered from the ground. He shooed the affronted chicken away, “was most unkind, hobi. And what if the feathered menace peck my eyes out?”
“They would grow back, like my ear did in Tanjari,” Nicolo managed, his chuckles fading, but his beautiful smile remained. Nicolo extended a hand towards Yusuf.
“This will teach you to look where you are supposed to and not...” Nicolo cleared his throat meaningfully.
Yusuf smiled up. He ignored the hand and folded his arms behind his head.
“Ah, or perhaps you secretly wish to temporarily blind me and make me nibble my way around in search of your cock.”
Nicolo flushed, stammered and then yelped as well when Yusuf captured his offered hand and yanked Nicolo to fall on top of him.
“Yusuf,” Nicolo grumbled, but his eyes were the color of a summer sea. “When you suggested we practice our swords before our evening meal, I expected more swords.”
“How do you expect me to fight when all you make me think about is laying you on this grass?” Yusuf rumbled. “I would have you here as my evening meal, but I fear it will upset our chickens.”
Nicolo pushed himself off Yusuf’s chest with an elbow on the grass. He huffed as he rolled to lay on the grass besides Yusuf instead. He gazed up at the sky slowly turning a shade of violet and red Yusuf thought would make a nice cloak for Nicolo. When he said this out loud, Nicolo scoffed. He thought such colors would fare better on Yusuf.
“I am a man with a gray life,” Nicolo murmured, his eyes still on the sky. “Such lively colors would be a waste on me.”
Yusuf’s chest twinge. It always does every time Nicolo says something like this.
“I hope,” Yusuf murmured, “Life with me will not be so gray, my heart.”
“Life with you,” Nicolo rasped, his voice suddenly thick, “has colors I do not even know the name of. To this day, I wonder what I have done to earn such a gift?”
And Nicolo said Yusuf has the pretty words.
Yusuf ran a knuckle across his chin, kneading his beard and hoping he was not grinning too broadly.
“You do not think it a curse?” Yusuf mused out loud. “The first year we traveled together, you often thought your God was punishing you.”
Nicolo was silent, his eyes towards the sky, his profile was serene like the statues Yusuf once gazed upon as a boy: carved blank faces yet with a warmth that glowed within like an ember. Nicolo’s nose was strong, a line that empathized the edge of his jaw and cheekbones. Nicolo’s profile could be mistaken as stern. Yet his eyes were far from hard. They were soft swirls of color that mist or sparkle by what light shines through that moment.
“I think...” Nicolo said hesitantly, stumbling over his words. “If I gained eternity, alone, without you, I would think it a curse.”
Yusuf blinked rapidly. He turned his head towards Nicolo, who still gazed at the sky. His ears were now were a feverish flush as well.
“I think,” Yusuf murmured, “It would take me an eternity to find a word that truly encompass what you mean to me and how I feel about you. But until then, will you humbly accept “I love you” for now?”
Nicolo closed his eyes. He sniffed loudly, yet his eyes were dry when he opened them again. He turned on his side, facing Yusuf.
Yusuf smiled. He brushed away the feather still on Nicolo’s cheek.
“Would I be too greedy to ask you to tell me again?” Nicolo whispered.
Yusuf rolled to face Nicolo. “Should I haggle? How many more times should I assault your poor ears with such simple words?”
“...forever?” Nicolo ventured, hesitant.
Yusuf smiled as he sat on with an elbow.
“I think that is more than a fair price,” Yusuf breathed. He leaned in, pressing his body over Nicolo’s, aligning the heat and swells between their legs.
“No more swords then?” Nicolo groaned out as Yusuf rocked against him. “Should we not talk about what to have for our evening me—Yusuf.”
“I,” Yusuf growled as he hooked fingers into Nicolo’s trousers to pull them down, “have decided I will have you as the evening meal.”
Nicolo’s eyes flared, a blue no water or sky could ever achieve. He wrapped his arms around Yusuf’s shoulders and let himself be devoured.
----------------------------
...sigh. Apparently I went to bed after my shift ended Weds at 2AM and slept all the way to 8PM last night. (facepalm) Missed two classes. Luckily I didn't have work. Tad annoyed my dear fam didn't seem concerned enough to go and poke me in my bed to see if I still breathed. LOL.
Hence, the boring no-sex, mushy part here as I try to explain to my teachers why I was a log yesterday.
More tomorrow as we move to part 18!