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Yusuf/Nicolo Forced Prostitution Fill : Needs of the Other 13C/16

[dr_libra_phd]

....um, so, I was only kidding about wanting to write a 1000 parts of soft. However, I didn't think our boys could recover in just one chapter either.

(eep, sorry)

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Part 13C
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(Nicolo)


Somewhere outside of Alexandria, 12th century




Yusuf, Nicolo thought desperately. Where did he go?

There were so many people.

Nicolo breathed slowly through his nose but it was not working.

The still nameless horse snorted while it stood impatiently by the edge of the fishing village. Many walked by, eyeing Nicolo and his two woven cages of two brown chickens clucking inside.

Yusuf heard of a man who needed a skilled letter writer fluent in Arabic and Greek. Nicolo stammered he would wait by the horse. And he was all right waiting by the horse until he bumped into a man who stared too long at him before grinning or leering. Nicolo did not wait to see which the man will do.

And so by the horse, Nicolo waited.

Nicolo was not sure how long he waited, but his skin burned more and more as he stood. They were looking, perhaps recognizing him? He remained standing rather than sit on one of the barrels that were carted over from the port in Alexandria. Or was it from Cairo? Was that where the man was from? It has not been long. Did Dirar live? Did he hear where Nicolo was? Or did the others came in hopes of a quick coin for a sweet mouth?

The horse nickered, bumping its soft nose against Nicolo’s right shoulder. It neighed when he jumped, dropping the cages on the ground. The chickens squawked.

That man by the cart...did he know Nicolo? The woman laughing as she handed over bread to another...was she from the markets? That man that walked by...why did he glance back at him?

Nicolo’s breath quickened, his stomach twisting tighter and tighter. There was something pushing up his throat. The chickens by his feet were starting to sound shrill. The horse next to him was growling. The village, when did the village become so big? The faces...did he know these faces? Did they know him?

Hands trembling, Nicolo picked up the cages. He gripped the woven handles so tight, his hands bled. But he took no notice.

“Do not leave without him,” Nicolo mumbled to the horse and started walking.





After Nicolo stumbled for the second time, Nicolo realized how foolish and cowardly he behaved.

Did he not promise Yusuf he would have Yusuf worry less? Why did he let himself be lulled by Yusuf’s hopeful face and agree to go into the village to look at the hens? He let himself relax, rested against Yusuf’s back as they rode together into the village. He smiled at the animals, shook his head as Yusuf haggled with the widow while Nicolo distracted the widow’s children by drawing letters in the silt.

Nicolo set the cages down. He ran a hand through his hair.

He was getting better, was he not? He ate more. He smiled more. On warm days, he and Yusuf laid on top of Yusuf’s cloak and discovered what each touch meant to each other, how sun heated skin slid against each other and how heady it felt teasing each other with kisses and shy strokes.

Why? Why now? Why did Nicolo see that face? Was it a face of a lustful merchant? Or a look he saw too often cast his way, Dirar pointing Nicolo out like a prized horse?

I also paid—

“No, no, no,” Nicolo muttered. He crouched down to the ground, his hands clutching his hair until it felt like someone else’s was clutching his hair. He breathed between clenched teeth. He counted to three. Then five. Then ten.

He should walk back. He should wait by the horse as promised. No, he should have gone with Yusuf or offer to wander the village. There was always work to do, markets to trade in. Even as small of a village, there is coin to be earned...

”I also—“

No. Quiet. Stop thinking about them. No. Stop. He can breathe. His skin does not crawl. His mouth does not taste foul.

Nicolo swallowed. The faint clink of coins dropping to his knees rang sharp in his ears. He breathed out slowly.

“You and I,” Nicolo muttered. “You and I.”

He would go back. He would get off this ground, off his knees and go back and wait by the horse.

Nicolo could not move. Not yet.

One of the chickens suddenly chirped. When Nicolo blearily glanced down, he saw the shadow that swept over him and the hens, before Yusuf’s presence, as familiar as the sun on his back, sat on his heels next to him.

Nicolo bowed his head.

“I thought I saw someone from Cairo.”

Yusuf stiffened besides him.

“Ah,” Yusuf breathed out. “It is good you left in haste. Did he recognize you? Should we go back and find him?”

Nicolo stared. “You do not doubt me?”

Yusuf settled a hand between Nicolo’s shoulders.

“If you do not doubt, why should I?” Yusuf gazed back steadily. “Should we go back?”

Nicolo felt an overwhelming feeling rising up his throat. He dropped his eyes to the ground. His throat worked but would not let him speak.

Yusuf, however, merely nodded. He pressed his hand firmer on Nicolo’s shoulders.

“All right,” Yusuf murmured, but did not rise to his feet. He seemed content to have Nicolo lean into him, tuck his hands within the folds of Yusuf’s cloak and simply breathe. Their shade seemed to please the caged hens. They chirped and cooed by their feet.

“Eggs and entertainment,” Yusuf mumbled. He poked between the weave at an inquisitive tiny beak. “I am tempted to get the other two and the rooster the widow offered. Think of the fun.”

“Think of the noise,” Nicolo rasped. “There was a flock in the monastery I was raised in. The crowing at first light...you would not be pleased.”

Yusuf harrumphed. “No, I would not.”

The hand on Nicolo’s back continued to move up and down, a gentle stroke that made him long for the afternoons curled against Yusuf under the fig trees again.

“We can go back,” Yusuf offered casually.

“We can,” Nicolo agreed. “But we should not. It...it was nothing.”

“It concerned you. It is not nothing.”

Nicolo lowered his head on Yusuf’s arm, hunching under Yusuf’s cloak.

“It is enough that you think it is nothing,” Nicolo said.

“Is it?” Yusuf sounded bitter. “A pretty phrase? How reassuring I am able to accomplish so much for you.”

Nicolo closed his eyes, hearing the same anguish from Yusuf’s dreams. The dreams Yusuf said he did not recall.

“It is you saying the words that is important,” Nicolo said. “I wish I knew the pretty phrases that would prove how much a word from you means to me.” He would have to prove it to Yusuf in everything he did as Yusuf said he did.

Yusuf exhaled. He rocked slightly on his heels.

“Everything you do is poetry and says more than I could ever hope to convey,” Yusuf murmured. “What a marvel you are. I seek you in hopes to comfort and here you are, soothing my soul instead.” He kissed the top of Nicolo’s head.

Nicolo savored the quiet around them. The village far behind them, their house far ahead, there was a peace being here in the middle of a path. It felt hopeful as he absorbed the heat of Yusuf’s body and stayed steady under Yusuf’s hand.

Something occurred to Nicolo.

“Yusuf...” Nicolo murmured.

Yusuf hummed questioning. He tugged more of the cloak over Nicolo.

“...where is the horse?”

Yusuf grunted. “It ran off as soon as it saw me. Wretched beast must have gone home without me again.”

Nicolo huffed, an aborted laugh as he shakily stood up. He took one chicken, Yusuf took charge of the other. They walked together, sharing the cloak, towards the home without looking back.


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Parts C & D are Nicolo's because apparently I went over the text limit (oops).
Part 13E, Yusuf tomorrow!