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theoldguardkinkmeme) wrote2020-07-22 10:07 am
theoldguardkinkmeme) wrote2020-07-22 10:07 am
Fills Post
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Yusuf/Nicolo Forced Prostitution Fill : Needs of the Other 14A/16
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Part 14A
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(Nicolo)
Somewhere outside of Alexandria, 12th century
It is fine.
Nicolo smiled faintly at the bread maker chattering away by his ear. He took care to balance the sack of grain on the opposite shoulder, away from the stooped back woman. She kept hooking a finger on his sleeve when the ground was too rocky. He walked slowly so she would not stumble.
The village was unusually busy today. A storm at sea has stranded ships in Alexandria, leaving bored men at port with coin to spend. They filled the often empty turns and corners with faces Nicolo did not know.
Yusuf had balked when they rode into the village with the skins Yusuf never sold. He wanted to turn back and Nicolo wanted to agree. But it has been a week with Yusuf brooding by the stream and fig trees. He avoided staying too close, only to clutch him in sleep.
Nicolo knew they could not allow this to continue. He could not let Yusuf suffer like this.
It was strange to be the one trying to carry conversation. Yusuf always made the ordinary sound exciting. Nicolo winced each time he tried.
Yusuf smiled at each attempt. He would reach for Nicolo, stopping until Nicolo finished the rest of the journey. He would cup Nicolo’s jaw, murmured sadly he was all right, do not fret, Nicolo.
Yusuf looked surprised when Nicolo said he needed things from the village. Nicolo almost retracted his request, his own heart racing at the thought of going back so soon.
With a pang, Nicolo recalled Yusuf lingering by Nicolo when he spoke with the baker: labor for days old loaves she could not sell. Yusuf looked hesitant as Nicolo prodded him towards the direction the baker pointed out. A merchant was asking for someone to help write a letter of credit in Greek. Nicolo felt guilty about the way he nudged Yusuf away, promising he would be fine and would wait for Yusuf by the baker’s house. But he wanted to call Yusuf back as he watched Yusuf walk away.
It is fine. It is fine.
Nicolo’s throat worked as he walked cautiously with the sack of grain. He nodded, his lingua franca now unfamiliar after many years talking Arabic and Greek with Yusuf. But he caught words about her roof, helping her youngest son who was home from the sea. He nodded at whatever price she offered.
The coin was not a concern, he kept telling himself. It will keep him busy as he waited for Yusuf. It will distract him from trying to pick out familiar faces out of strangers.
It is fine. It is fine.
The repairs was hard work and reminded Nicolo why Yusuf was at first hesitant about Nicolo’s chosen tasks. Nicolo still tired too easily and his limbs shook too soon.
But it was honest work. It was work that only left him tired, not numb.
Nicolo grimaced, wiping the back of his hand over his brow. He was surprised to pull his hand away wet with blood. Ah, the roof.
The young son was clumsy on land and knocked on the brick too hard. Shards of mud brick fell on top of Nicolo without warning. He hunched over the baker, shielding her. It earned him her thanks and the loaf of rosemary bread she insisted on making fresh.
“You do good work.” The baker’s son emerged from the house. He rubbed the dark whiskers on his chin as he considered Nicolo. He bore a disturbing resemblance to a merchant, decades younger, but with the same gleam in his eyes.
It is fine. It is fine.
“Thank you,” Nicolo said politely. He paused at the coins the son held out in his palm.
Nicolo’s chest felt too small for his heart.
“That is not the price we agreed,” Nicolo said evenly. He did not reach out for the coins. “This is more than we discussed.”
“Payment for something more,” the son replied and he smiled.
Nicolo’s knees locked. His stomach clenched. His ears roared, filled with echoes, jeers, and the sound of himself choking.
“...the cart.”
Nicolo blinked, still reeling from the sharp catch in his chest. He stared stupidly at the son before the words reassembled.
“Ah,” Nicolo could only say. With effort, he added, “The cart?”
The son’s smile turned embarrassed and it struck Nicolo how young the man, no, the boy was.
“My legs are too used to the seas and my hands are too used to the ships' ropes. I tried to repair mother’s cart, but I fear it is worse now. Jah told me how you fixed his harness and I hoped—“
“Of course. Gladly. I—We could return tomorrow to do this. Is that agreeable?” Nicolo fumbled.
The son nodded. He canted his head, considering Nicolo.
“Or,” the boy said slowly, “you could repair it today and...” The boy’s smile turned hesitant, shy. “You could stay the night if it gets late. I...I have a room.”
Nicolo stared at the boy blankly. Did he not say tomorrow? Did he misunderstood the urgency?
The son’s eyes drifted down, back up to Nicolo’s face and then, flushed.
...Oh.
Nicolo grew hot as well. He heard himself, his words clumsy as he repeated he would be back tomorrow. With Yusuf, Nicolo stressed with too much force. He will return with Yusuf.
The son must have realized he misread Nicolo as he too began to stammer, of course, of course, he has been a help, his mother sang Nicolo's praises.
During the awkward exchange, the coins dropped between their feet.
The boy's apologies were louder than the echoes in Nicolo's head as he dropped down to a knee to pick up the coins, while reassuring the son he did not take offense. From the ground, Nicolo tilted his head up to offer a smile that would hopefully calm the son's babbling to something they could both understand. He blinked when he realized the son has stopped talking and looking past Nicolo's shoulder with round eyes.
Nicolo looked behind him. He froze.
Yusuf stood at the dirt path that cut into the village. He stared at them, at Nicolo, his hand on the hilt of his scimitar. His face bore thunder. And he stared at Nicolo, his lips white underneath his beard.
Nicolo's throat squeezed as he realized how he must look. His face went unbearably hot. He had feared the same moments before. And now Yusuf looked as he did back then, his eyes full of rage as he glared at Dirar. Only Yusuf was not looking at Dirar now. He...was he looking at Nicolo? At the boy?
Nicolo did not want to know the answer. He feared it would be one he will not like.
Stuttering, his lingua switching to Arabic at parts, Nicolo spilled the collected coins into the speechless son's hand and escaped. He was not sure if he heard Yusuf calling him. He did not dare check.
He was being a coward again.
Nicolo's feet stuttered as he stared blankly at the road he was on. It was a tread worn path, the only one that led from their house and to the village. He took it without thought, fled to the one route he knew in his bones: back to Yusuf, to their house.
Nicolo covered his mouth with a hand. He breathed through his nose, but the clench in his throat, the urge to vomit was overwhelming. He squeezed his eyes tight, continued to breathe.
You and I. You and I.
It was to this mantra Nicolo began to walk again.
You...
His left foot stepped forward.
...and I.
His right foot advanced next.
Left right left right. His steps accompanied the words in his mind.
You...
Left foot.
...and I.
Right foot.
After a few steps, Nicolo realized there was an odd echo behind him; a shuffle of boots matching his stride and the clops of hooves after.
Nicolo did not turn around. He gulped and continued walking. His neck ached where his head hung low. His lower back twinge trying to stay hunched for so long.
You...
Left foot. Behind him, another left foot.
...and I.
Right foot. Behind him, another right foot.
Nicolo's eyes burned. Will his shadow not speak? Did his attempt to help backfire? Was the silence all that is left for the remainder of their eternity? Did he ruin everything again?
Nicolo's arms wrapped around his middle, a hand still clamped over his mouth. He kept walking, his shadow kept following and the sun kept burning on top of his head.
"I also paid you--"
Nononono...
Nicolo stopped. His breathing hitched. He could not see. The ground blurred as if it would dissolve under his feet.
An arm slipped over his shoulders.
It was Nicolo's undoing. His breathing stuttered and he could not stop the thin sound that spilled out.
"Hobi," Yusuf murmured and he was there, next to him, touching Nicolo.
"I...I did not..." Nicolo hiccuped. the words refused to come out. "I-I did not, I swear, I would not do t-that to you, I promise on my life, I would not, no..."
Yusuf wrapped his other arm around Nicolo, tugging him to his chest.
Nicolo missed this. He missed how Yusuf's steady heartbeat could lull his to do the same. He missed how soft Yusuf's beard tickled his brow. He missed how Yusuf's arms felt like they wrapped around him a thousand times, stronger than any shield or armor. He missed...he missed...
"Come back," Nicolo choked. He would not cry, but his eyes would not stop burning. "Please, come back, come back..."
"I am here. Sh, Nicolo, I never left."
Yusuf shushed Nicolo as he tugged Nicolo closer, crushing their bodies close, forcing their lungs to push out their air. Yusuf panted like Nicolo. He sounded tearful like he did before days ago and Nicolo did that, this was his doing, he should do better, why did he not cope better, why did he not help Yusuf?
"No, no," Yusuf murmured. He swayed where they stood. "You did nothing wrong. You tried. I was lost in my own dark sorrow and you were like a moon and tried to shine the way back for me, but I was too content to wallow in self-pity to look up and see."
Nicolo wanted to disagree. Or tell Yusuf he did the same for Nicolo, but he could not find the words. He choked on the pathetic sounds that kept spilling out.
"I know you were not. I know. I saw you there and felt rage, but for myself, for what I thought was my failure again. My anger was for that, not for what you were forced to do. Never." Yusuf kissed Nicolo's brow.
"Peace, my Nicolo. Feel peace, not fury from me. I am sorry I have been distant. No more. I will do better for you."
Nicolo took a steadying breath but did not pull away from Yusuf's offered haven.
"I was once told," Nicolo said hoarsely, "That I should do better for myself."
"Ah." Yusuf rubbed Nicolo between his shoulders. "Good advice. Must be a wise man."
"...he has his moments."
Yusuf growled. He hugged Nicolo tighter and lifted him off his feet. Nicolo yelped. He elbowed Yusuf, or tried, Yusuf held tight as if determined to merge them together. But then a high neigh and Yusuf's outraged shout and suddenly Nicolo was free.
Nicolo blinked at the sight of Yusuf wagging a finger at the horse.
"It tried to bite me!"
"Where?" Nicolo's eyebrow rose when the horse demonstrated again.
Yusuf leapt back, a hand reaching behind to shield himself from harm.
"Why did you not ride him?" Nicolo patted the horse. It bumped its nose against Nicolo's shoulder and nickered.
"The mangy beast would not let me--ah, ah, not again!" Yusuf dodged the snap of teeth. "I was left no choice but to use it like a pack horse and walk home to you."
Nicolo's throat worked. "Oh. Shall we walk home together then?"
Yusuf stopped darting around the horse. He smiled at Nicolo, a shade of his old cheer, but as warm and reassuring as before.
"Yes." Yusuf stretched out a hand in offering.
"Let us go home together."
Nicolo wrapped his hand around Yusuf's forearm. Yusuf's hand curled around Nicolo's wrist. He pulled Nicolo against him, flipped one end of his cloak to cover them both.
"You and I," Yusuf murmured.
Nicolo, not trusting his voice, nodded.
And with the words in their hearts, they walked towards their home, their steps matching as they steered for home.
---------------------------------
Tomorrow! Same time, Yusuf's turn. The boys are almost there!
Re: Yusuf/Nicolo Forced Prostitution Fill : Needs of the Other 14A/16
(Anonymous) 2020-10-20 01:25 am (UTC)(link)Re: Yusuf/Nicolo Forced Prostitution Fill : Needs of the Other 14A/16
(Anonymous) 2020-10-20 01:49 pm (UTC)(link)they're so soft at the end...
Re: Yusuf/Nicolo Forced Prostitution Fill : Needs of the Other 14A/16
(Anonymous) 2020-10-20 05:45 pm (UTC)(link)Re: Yusuf/Nicolo Forced Prostitution Fill : Needs of the Other 14A/16
Re: Yusuf/Nicolo Forced Prostitution Fill : Needs of the Other 14A/16