theoldguardkinkmeme | Fills Post

Fills Post

This Fills Post is now closed to new fills. New fills should go in Fills Post #2. For those of you who are in the process of posting multi-chapter WIPs, please post subsequent chapters in the new Fills Post but include a link to the previous chapters so that those who haven't been following the story from the beginning can easily find the first part(s).

Remember:

Fills can but don't need to be anonymous.

Start a new comment for each fill. Don't use threaded comments for new fills. Threaded comments are for fills that take up more than one comment field, or for feedback/squee/praise.

In your fill, please mention the prompt you are responding to, and provide a link to the prompt in the body of the text.

Please use a header with your character(s)/pairing and a title and/or keyword or short phrase. (For example: "Just you and me: Andy/Quynh, Make-up sex" or "Between a Rock and A Hard Place: Nicky/Joe/Booker, first time DP").

Please also comment with a link to your fill in the prompt post, under the prompt you are responding to. Your comment header should include the word "Fill" or "Filled", so that those checking out the thread can find your fic/art more easily (For example: "FILL: Re: Any/Quynh, Make-up sex").

If you end up cleaning up your fill and posting it elsewhere (AO3, your personal journal), feel free to link the posted fic/art here as well.

Fills on Pinboard: For a list of filled prompts on Pinboard, go here.

Threaded | Flat

The prompt was: "It's not that Nicky's particularly observant these days. It's that six weeks of celibacy drives Joe wild."

CW: Blasphemy

***

By Holy Monday, he is crawling out of his skin.

“How long again till Easter?” he asks Nile, halfway through their Scrabble game, and wonders if she’d notice if he pressed his hand against his crotch underneath the table. Discreetly, of course.

She gives him a strange look. “It’s this Sunday,” she says, then pauses.

“Wait, are you Catholic?”

His laughter sounds slightly hysterical even to his own ears. “No, of course not,” he says. “No, it’s just – that means Lent ends on Thursday, doesn’t it?”

“It does,” Nile nods. “I do look forward to drinking coffee again.”

She looks down at the board and frowns.

“I don’t think ‘sexile’ is a valid Scrabble word, by the way.”

“Well it should be,” Joe says indignantly.

At the stove, Nicky is smirking into a pot of tomato sauce.

On Tuesday, Andy takes mercy on him and offers to spar with him.

It’s a terrible idea, but at this point he’ll take being slammed into the pavement in front of the rookie if it helps take the edge off just the tiniest bit.

“Two more days, huh?” Andy grins knowingly when she offers him a hand to pull him up, for the third time in the past hour.

He wipes the sweat off his face. His hand comes away red.

“Huh,” he says. “Was I bleeding?”

“I think I broke your nose,” Andy nods. “Looks fine now. You want to stop?”

“No,” he says, and exhales a shuddering breath. “But I think Nile is starting to freak out.”

Andy wraps an arm around his shoulder and leans into his side. “It’s Tuesday already,” she says. “You’ll survive.”

He chuckles mirthlessly. “I have no doubt.”

She squeezes his biceps sympathetically. He allows himself to let his forehead fall against her temple and ignores the feeling between his shoulder blades telling him that Nicky is watching him from the porch.

On Wednesday, he’s right in the middle of jerking himself to a hurried, unsatisfactory orgasm when Copley calls him on his cell.

“What?” he snaps into the phone, and the momentary silence on the other end of the line tells him that he didn’t quite manage to keep the frustration out of his voice.

“Mr. Al-Kaysani?” Copley asks carefully.

“Sorry,” he says, right hand still sliding up and down his aching cock while he’s switching to speaker phone with the left. “I’m here.”

“I may have a job for you,” Copley says, a little hesitantly, as if he’s wondering whether Joe is going to bite his head off at his next words. “You’d have to be on a plane to Dhaka by next Tuesday. Think that’s doable?”

Pitifully, Joe looks down at his wilting cock. “As long as it’s after Easter,” he says, resigned.

“Yes, it … wait, what?” Copley asks. “Are you Catholic?”

“No, I –“ Joe sighs deeply. “Never mind.”

Nicky cooks a nice dinner on Thursday, to celebrate, as he tells Nile, the beginning of Paschal Triduum.

He doesn’t tell her that it’s also always meant as a kind of apology, although at this point in the game, Joe could not care less about food.

By the time he’s done with the panna cotta, he is shifting noticeably in his seat, and he likes Nile, he really does, but she is taking her time to savor her first cup of post-Lent after-dinner coffee, and he is increasingly feeling tempted to strangle her.

In his defense, Nicky is looking equally impatient, although his only actual tell is the way he is catching his bottom lip between his front teeth, which makes him look seductive, and doesn’t exactly help.

“We are going to get a drink,” Andy finally tells Nile, and slowly gets up from her chair.

Nile wrinkles her forehead. “We are?” she asks, looking slightly confused as she sets down her mug.

“We are,” Andy smiles, and rests a hand against her shoulder in a gesture that doesn’t leave any room for protest. “Get your coat.”

Nile blinks, but she obeys without further questions, and for once Joe is grateful for the military types who have learned when it’s time to do as they are told.

He barely waits for Andy to close the door behind them before he’s out of his seat.

“Come here,” Nicky says softly, tilting his head back to look up at him with a beckoning smile.

“You fucking asshole,” Joe says angrily, and pushes Nicky backwards in his chair, “Ya Ibn el Sharmouta, porco Dio, fuck Jesus for getting himself killed, and also, fuck you”, and already he’s on his knees, his fingers tugging desperately on the zipper of Nicky’s pants.

“Christ, Yusuf,” Nicky curses, lifting his hips slightly from the chair, his hands sliding deep into Joe’s curls to hold on.

“Come on, hurry, please …”

“Sorry, I forgot –“ Nile throws the door open, then freezes in the doorway, staring at them with her mouth hanging open, her eyes wide. Joe blinks up at her from below as well as he can without letting Nicky’s cock slip out of his mouth, because he’ll be damned if he lets go of it now that he’s finally got it between his lips for the first time in far, far too long.

“Uh,” Nile says, looking a little ashen. “Never mind,” she continues, retreating as hastily as she came. “You know what, I don’t think I need a hat after all.”

“Have fun at the bar!” Nicky shouts after her, and then bites back a groan when Joe takes him deeper and slips a hand under his balls.

Joe spends most of Good Friday, as is tradition, getting his ass ploughed by Nicky’s cock. As Joe and Nicky discovered, sometime in early 1100 AD, there are some rather odd side-effects to immortality, one of them being a dramatically shortened recovery time.

Good Friday is one of the occasions where it comes in handy, because it means that Nicky barely has to pull out between fucks: Tightly entwined, they lie together, their hearts beating in synch while they recover from their little deaths, until one of them starts moving, and then they simply go again.

Joe leaves the room only once, in the evening, heading to relieve himself in the bathroom down the hall.

On his way back, he hears Nile’s voice from the kitchen. “And they do this every year?” she asks, her tone wavering somewhere between intrigued and vaguely horrified.

“When we are not on a mission,” Andy confirms, the smile audible underneath her words.

“Maybe …” he hears Nile say slowly, the door handle already dipping under his hand. “Maybe next year you and I should go on a trip the week after Easter.”

Her voice drops lower. “Don’t they want, you know, privacy?”

“Honestly?” Andy says, and he can picture her careless shrug. “I don’t think they’ll notice much whether we are here …”

… or gone, she probably finishes, but Joe is already back in the bedroom, and doesn’t pay them attention anymore.

“Hey,” he says, crawls across the covers, and leans down to press a kiss onto Nicky’s half-open lips.

“Hey,” Nicky smiles and brings his arms up to slide them tightly around Joe’s back.

“Six weeks is too long,” he says, whining a little. “I really missed you.”

“I missed you too,” Joe says softly, and doesn’t point out that Nicky always says that, and then the next year he always does it again.

Instead, he swings a leg over Nicky’s thighs, setting his hands on Nicky’s chest.

Until they have to leave for their job in Tuesday, they have three more full days to celebrate the resurrection of Christ.

Prompt was "Nile fisting Andy. That's it."

* * *

It was easier to do this, when she was immortal.

She wishes Nile would stop being so slow; being immortal, she was used to being able to charge on ahead, heedless of whatever was going to happen. Since gaining her mortality back, colors are brighter, food tastes stronger, pain is sharper. It's like she exists in the world again as a solid presence, not just as a shadow trailing across the water.

In the old days, she'd tell Nile to just put it in already, spread her legs until her muscles protested and then do it further, because why not? She'd be fine. But she's got a bruise on her knee, and she pulled something in her shoulder two months ago, and Nile's three fingers inside of her feel impossibly slick.

Nile is staring down at the way her fingers slide in and out of Andy's cunt, her expression downright rapturous. Andy's already come twice, and her hips are rocking forward, her cunt clenching tight around Nile's fingers. When Nile's fingers curl, the knuckles bulge, stretching her hole out. Nile has surprisingly small hands - Andy has seen what Nile can do with those hands, but they're still so small, with neatly clipped nails and narrow, tapering fingers.

"Another," Andy rasps out, and she's clutching at the sheets, sweating so hard she's probably going to have to flip the mattress. "Please."

"You sure?" Nile wriggles her fingers carefully, a slow undulation like a wave, as implacable as the sea. It makes Andy gasp, and she's got her hands in her own hair, and the pain is grounding.

"I wouldn't ask if I wasn't sure," Andy snaps, and then she groans, as Nile's thumb presses down on her clit.

"Just makin' sure," Nile says, and at least she doesn't seem offended at Andy's snapping.

They've gotten used to each other, over the last few months. They know each other's tells, each other's delicate spots, erogenous zones.

Nile's other hand comes around, to find the spot right under Andy's knee that always makes her squirm when it's pinched, and she runs her fingertips along it with just enoug pressure that it almost - almost - tickles.

"Oh," Andy breathes out, and her cunt clenches again, a little harder this time. "Please," she says, and her voice cracks.

Nile withdraws her fingers, carefully, and she grabs the bottle of lube that's next to her. She drizzles a handful along all four of her fingers, and then they're sliding back inside of Andy, squeezed by Andy's own internal muscles. It's a tighter stretch, and Andy makes an embarrassing noise in the back of her throat, humping forward awkwardly.

"You're so full," Nile says in a hushed voice. "I can feel your heartbeat, and every time you twitch." She curls her fingers, and Andy cries out again, bucking her hips. Nile's hand is moving steadily, carefully, less thrusting and more just rolling her arm.

"More," Andy says, and she'd be embarrassed at how needy she is, but she catches the look Nile gives her, and it's enough to send another shock of heat through her whole body, her toes curling, her heart beating desperately in her ears, in her cunt.

"Oh," Nile breathes, and she licks her lips, as she keeps her gentle thrusting and curling up. "Fuck."

"That's the idea," Andy says, and she tries to keep her voice dry as Nile spreads her fingers out. She groans, long and low and hard, and her whole body goes limp as the intensity of the sensation washes over her like a bucket of water.

"You're really tight," Nile says, and her tone is so matter of fact. There's nothing titilating about her tone, nothing pornographic. It's a statement of fact, and it makes Andy shudder harder.

"Please," Andy says, "Nile."

Nile's fingers withdraw, and Andy keeps her eyes closed, taking comfort in the familiar darkness behind the lids. Her heart is beating loudly in her ears, her head, throug her whole body. She's a single, desperate nerve, and she can hear the wet sounds of the lube being squeezed out of its little bottle, the rub of skin on skin as Nile rubs it in.

Nile presses her whole hand against Andy's cunt, and Andy opens for her like the sea, taking her in slowly. Nile is moving agonizingly slowly, and it would make Andy crazy, if she wasn't so intent on the sensation, of the feeling of Nile's hair tickling her bare belly, her bare thighs, Nile's other hand resting on her hip to keep her in place.

When Nile's fingers are all the way up to the second set of knuckles, her other hand comes into play. She begins to rub Andy's clit, and Andy sobs brokenly, as she opens even further. Her cunt is spread, and she's pinned to the bed. She realizes, belatedly, that she can feel Nile's wrist against her labia, spreading her open. She's got all of Nile's hand inside of her, Nile's other thumb is rubbing over her clit, her fingers pressing down into Andy's belly.

Andy's cunt is clenching, and her nails are digging into her own palms, her knuckles creaking with how tight she's clenching her fists. The fist inside of her curls, clenches, and Andy whimpers. She'll deny it to her dying day (and now she has a dying day, isn't that terrifying), but she's whimpering, she's sobbing, as Nile's hand twitches, moves minutely inside of her. Nile's thumb is on her clit, and when she opens her eyes she can see that Nile's eyes are on her face.

"You're gonna come soon," Nile tells her, and her voice is rough, almost as if she's the one who's had who even knows how many orgasms, as if she's taking it and taking it, not Andy.

"I feel like... like I'd be a b-b-better judge of that," Andy says, and then she gasps, as her whole body seizes up.

"I know what you feel like when you come," Nile says, her thumb pressing down on Andy's clit, her fist slowly tightening, then relaxing. "You're squeezing me, more and more, and your thighs are all tense on either side of me." She sounds embarrassed, and when Andy glances up, she can see that Nile's expression is faintly bashful, which is way too cute to be real.

It isn't fair, that Nile is cute at a moment like this.

Then Nile rotates her wrist, just a it, and her knuckles bump against something inside of Andy, and Andy is seized by an orgasm so powerful it makes her vision white out. She's unaware of anything but the thickness of Nile's fist in her cunt, the pulsing of her whole body, the pleasure that seems to beat at her like a blacksmith's hammer. She goes utterly limp, and only whimpers a little bit as Nile's fist is carefully removed from inside of her.

When Andy more or less comes to herself, Nile is sprawled out next to her, looking sweet and slightly concerned, and more than a little bit smug. It's impressive, how the two expression play across the one face.

"So," says Nile, and she grins, "not bad, huh?"

"You're gettin' there, kid," Andy says, and she leans forward, to taste Nile's sweet, soft mouth. If she concentrates hard enough, she can taste Nile's happiness, and it's like currants on her tongue, sweet and sharp.

She already misses her immortality, but being able to catch hold of moments like these and keep them tight in her grip... they make it worth it.

Prompt: "I really liked the idea of either them falling into a world where werewolves/vampire/other fantasy creatures exist or finding out they exist in their own world but I liked the idea of them finding out when Andy is turned in to an immortal fantasy creature and having to deal with the fallout of that. She's only just become mortal again and hasn't really dealt with that an now she's a new type of immortal creature.

Would be open to any f/f Andy ship and canon ships."

***

The thing she remembered clearest was pain.

So many millennia of death and undying, wounds that healed almost as quickly as they were inflicted, emotional scars where the physical ones should be had deadened her to pain. Becoming mortal again was an awakening; the bruises she would have forgotten, the slow knit of healing skin over stitches up knife wounds, the bone-deep ache of joints that had been pushed too far, all of it was both new and old, an influx of sensation that Andy had long since learned to tune out. But the healing didn’t come so swiftly, so the pain lingered, burned itself into her memories until she looked at a bruised knuckle and thought, Boston, three days ago.

She could fight through it, always had before, but Nile kept reminding her that pain was the body’s way of registering that something was wrong. Being mortal meant stopping to listen, even if her first instinct was to ignore it and keep fighting. Sometimes that wasn’t the better option.

And then there was this: a shitty, trash covered parking lot with a wolf the size of a tiger. Andy had killed wolves before, killed meaner ones, been mauled by a pack once and left their territory once they were done eating her entrails, but this wolf wasn’t acting right. Shouldn’t exist in a city the size of Buffalo anyways, no matter the rumors about wolf packs being reintroduced to upstate New York. There was a wrongness to it that the back of her mind worried at like a piece of gristle between her teeth, but she couldn’t focus on that right now.

Nile wasn’t moving, but that probably had a lot to do with the way her throat had been ripped out. Not her fault. If she survived this, Andy was going to remember to take her out into the wilderness, take that Marine wilderness training and really put it to the test. Just in case.

The wolf that wasn’t lunged at her again, sloppy in its movement but dangerously fast. Her labrys was back at the hotel room, safe in its case and not in her hands, but she had a gun and a hunting knife. Not that the gun had done much. That was how it got Nile in the first place, rushing through the bullets like it hadn’t even felt them.

A fang caught her arm, opened it up to the bone from wrist to elbow as Andy swore furiously and drove the knife into the side of its neck. Rookie mistake. Now she didn’t have the knife either, and the wolf was still circling, ignoring the handle of the blade sticking out.

Fuck, there was a lot of blood.

It kept circling, keeping her from running—not that she would have run in any case, not when Nile was coughing herself back to life a few feet away, not when running would just open her back up to those fangs and claws. She was only human, but she was still agile enough to dodge when it darted in, her fingers slipping over the blood-slick handle of the knife as she tried to yank it free. It got caught on bone, slid out of her grasp as the wolf spun around and shredded through one of her legs, but its head was angled just right for her to put the pistol to its eye and pull the trigger.

The wolf fell and Andy fell with it, putting the rest of the clip into its head just in case. At this range, it left a lot more bone and brain matter splattered across the pavement.

“Shit,” she hissed, dropping the gun and fumbling at her shirt. Her tibia was shattered, bone shards pushing up through ruined muscle and torn skin, and her left arm was practically useless. If she was lucky, they could tourniquet both of them and then get her to a hospital, rely on Copely to sort the rest out, but a fucking wolf in the middle of Buffalo pointed towards neither of them being very lucky.

Hands on her back, yanking the shirt up over her head and tearing it in the same motion as Nile snarled, “You are not dying on me, Andy, so don’t get any ideas.”

“Wouldn’t dream of it.” And she had to grin at that, even though the pain was hitting hard now that the adrenaline was gone. Funny, how the potential to not get back up again put a new spin on things, changed the way she looked at life. Now there was a time limit.

There was also a lot of blood on the ground.

Fatal amounts, Andy figured, not that she would say it out loud. Nile winched the fabric around her arm and leg as tightly as she could, cutting off as much of the blood flow as physically possible, but without emergency medical care in the next hour, Andy figured herself for a goner. Already hard to keep her eyes open. The bruises on her knuckles were covered in blood too, hiding the memory of Boston and the way Nile’s eyes lit up at the museum there, leaving Andy with a lonely, lost ache somewhere behind her breastbone. That had been a good day and this ridiculous fucking shitshow had covered it.

There was a crunch of bone a few feet away, where the wolf that wasn’t lay dead on the pavement. Andy’s eyes slid towards it, her body following as she slumped sideways, but she couldn’t muster the energy to try and stand again. The body was moving, twisting, hanks of fur falling off in bloody lumps at the skull started morphing hideously as darkness rushed in at the edges of Andy’s vision.

The last thing she heard was Nile saying, “What the fuck.”

Prompt: Sometimes Joe is overcome with how beautiful Nicky is and just has to worship him. Orally.

There’s just something about watching Nicky during a stake-out that always gets to him, even after all this time.

It’s the absolute focus, the way he almost becomes one with the rifle; it’s the perfect stillness, as if he’s one of the statues he posed for when Joe was still doing sculpture back in the day.

It makes him look ageless, ethereal, stunning, and always has Joe marvel at the fate that brought this man into his life.

More often than not, though, Joe has no time to appreciate it: he’ll be too busy filtering out interference on the radio transmission device, or it’ll be the kind of quick job where they are in and out within seconds, scrambling to get away before someone else can get to them.

Today, though, is one of the slow ones, one of those that involve a lot of waiting and watching, with no guarantee that their patience will actually pay off in the end.

Joe takes advantage and lets himself stare shamelessly, not at all worried that he’ll get called out. He does wish he had his sketchbook on him, just to have something to keep his hands occupied. It’s not that Joe ever gets really tired of watching Nicky, it’s that watching Nicky usually gives him other ideas, and he wants to get this job over with so he can convince Nicky to turn that intense focus onto him.

But it’s been two hours, and so far the guy is a no-show. And two hours are not even a blip on the radar in the lives of immortals, but that doesn’t mean they can’t get a little bored.

He sidles up behind Nicky, putting his mouth close to Nicky’s ear. “You are gorgeous like this, you know that,” he says, taking pleasure in watching Nicky shiver the tiniest bit at the sensation of Joe’s breath ghosting over his skin.

“Joe,” he warns without otherwise moving, “trying to work here, give me some space.” But his tone is mild, a telltale sign that Nicky is getting as bored and impatient as he is.

“Are you telling me you can’t multitask?” Joe asks, sliding his mouth along the line of Nicky’s jaw to the back of his neck. “You’ve got centuries of practice.”

“Is that supposed to be a challenge?” Nicky asks, involuntary amusement rivaling the slight irritation Joe can hear in his voice. “You’ve been there for most of it, you know what I can do.”

“I do,” Joe says seriously, and presses a kiss against the top of Nicky’s spine.

“And it’s a turn-on every single time.”

“You are ridiculous,” Nicky says, and heroically does not flinch at the tender touch.

“I’m not even doing anything interesting. Just looking down a long, hard, hollow metal rod …”

He trails off and winces, almost imperceptibly, when Joe’s teeth nip at his skin.

“Now you are just being cruel,” Joe complains, “Tell me again why I like you?”

Nicky laughs silently, his shoulders shaking ever so slightly.

“You know why,” he says, sounding so fond and so utterly certain that Joe feels his heart spilling over with love.

“I do,” he admits without hesitation, because he can never keep up the utterly transparent pretense for long.

He slowly lowers himself onto his knees behind Nicky, flat hands trailing down his back.

“Your magnificent ass is one reason,” he continues, and even though his tone is light and joking, he’s dead serious about it, too.

He presses his face into the back of Nicky’s pants, feeling the firm muscles flex under his touch.

“Oh yeah?” Nicky says, a smile in his voice, as he pushes his ass back gently into Joe’s face. “Anything else?”

“Yeah,” Joe says, and sneaks his hands around Nicky’s hips, where they come to rest on both sides of his groin.

“I love your cock,” he says, “your beautiful, enormous, delicious …”

“Stop!” Nicky half-shouts, his voice somewhere between helpless laughter and a sob. “Madonna, Yusuf, what’s wrong with you?”

“You know what, Nicolo,” he whines. “Please, just let me … I need to get my mouth on you.”

Nicky curses at him in four languages, but he can’t quite hide the faint shudder running down his spine, can’t hide the way his hardening cock is straining against the front of his pants, and Joe knows that he has practically won.

“Fuck, Joe,” Nicky says, breathless and more than a little desperate. “Yeah, okay, do it, come on.”

That’s all the permission Joe needs, and he certainly doesn’t need to be told twice. From behind, he slides his hands further inward to open Nicky’s zipper with practiced ease. He pulls the jeans over Nicky’s hips down to mid-thigh, then the boxer briefs with a little more feeling, until he has those gorgeous tight ass cheeks right in front of his eyes.

He kisses them both with reverence, the right one first, then the left, and enjoys the way he can make Nicky shiver with just this simple, gentle brush of his lips. Then he puts his mouth on the small of Nicky’s back, right at the lower end of his spine, and runs his tongue downward into the crack, gently holding the cheeks apart with his hands so he can get to the spot he wants to reach.

At the first flick of his tongue against Nicky’s hole, Nicky moans and for a moment actually fumbles his rifle.

“No, oh God, stop,” he says, his voice frantic, almost delirious, as he struggles to tighten the grip on his gun.

“It’s too much, I can’t focus … “

He sounds desperate enough that Joe relents, and as much as it pains him, he drags his yearning mouth away from Nicky’s skin.

“You want me to stop?” he asks, trying not to sound too disappointed; willing, as always, to give Nicky what he needs.

“No, no,” Nicky half-sobs, and Joe hasn't heard him sound so torn about something in years. “Just – just come around here and suck my cock instead.”

Joe can certainly live with that change of plan. He shifts around on his knees until he’s between Nicky and the window and welcomes the chance to get reacquainted with Nicky’s cock.

Despite his efforts to stay focused, Nicky is clearly as turned on as he is, his beautiful cock straining upward and already leaking at the tip, and Joe doesn’t waste any time before he swallows him down, one hand around the base, the other curled around his hip.

“Yes, yes, that’s perfect, oh God,” Nicky rambles, and after a thousand years, Joe still is inexplicably delighted whenever he manages to render his lover inarticulate like that.

For a while, he lets himself get lost in the feeling of Nicky’s cock in his mouth, sliding against his tongue, in the smell of sweat and musk and whatever bar soap Nicky is using this week. He slides his hands back to Nicky’s ass, just cupping him gently as he opens his mouth to take his cock deeper, and hears Nicky’s breath hitching, a familiar sign that he’s getting close.

“I’m going to … “ Nicky warns, and then, suddenly: “Oh shit, he’s coming!”

His hips stutter and jerk, and Joe sputters around a faceful of come even as he hears the shot ringing out right over his head.

“Fuck, fuck,” Nicky groans, sounding wrecked, but he’s still coming, so Joe simply puts his mouth back where it was, sucking him gently through the aftershocks until his cock feels heavy and soft on Joe’s tongue.

He leans his forehead against the dip of Nicky’s hip just as Nicky’s radio starts to crackle.

“What the hell was that?” Andy demands, sounding frustrated. “What are you guys doing up there?”

“What do you think they are doing?” Booker chimes in, the smirk clearly audible in his voice.

“Jesus,” Andy curses. “We are on a job here, guys, a little more focus, please.”

“What,” Nicky says, mildly offended, his softened cock brushing Joe’s cheek. “I got him in the head, didn’t I?”

“Yes, and you almost took the client’s ear off with it,” Andy snaps, then she heaves a deep sigh.

“Just – pull your pants up,” she says, sounding resigned. “We are clearing out. Meet you back at the hotel at eight.”

She switches off the radio, and Nicky stares down at Joe, clearly wavering between the embarrassment of being told off by Andy, and the deep satiation of an afterglow that makes it really difficult to care.

“You got that out of your system now?” he asks, raising an eyebrow. He’s trying for stern, but the affectionate smile curling up the corners of his mouth gives him away.

“You know,” Joe says thoughtfully, “I do think I did for a moment.” He grins. “But that was before you got in a perfect headshot while coming all over my face.” He climbs to his feet, his knees faintly protesting, and idly licks his lips as he sets a sticky hand against Nicky’s cheek.

“Let’s go back to the hotel, shall we? If we hurry, we’ll have a good three hours for me to lick every inch of your body before the others reappear.”

here you go!

https://archiveofourown.org/works/25499563

Prompt: Andy/Booker/Joe/Nicky/Nile
https://theoldguardkinkmeme.dreamwidth.org/953.html?thread=44217#cmt44217

Booker is actually fucking fantastic at eating out pussy, Nile decides, trying to focus on just the feel and pressure of his lips and tongue as she rides his face. His hands are on her hips, and someone--Joe, she thinks, is kissing down her back.

The awareness of Joe blows her perceptions wide, and a whine escapes her, as she feels it all. Booker's cock in Andy's cunt, Nicky's fingers in their slow slide in and out of Joe's ass, Andy's skin hot and stifling as she watches Nile's tits bounce, Nicky's hand wrapped around his own cock, straining and desperate. It's overwhelming, and she comes hard, nails digging into Booker's chest as she tries not to fall over.

Everything goes white and black and nothing for a moment, and she's pretty sure her nails draw blood. Then everything comes back and she topples forward, kissing Andy's shoulder sloppily as her hands reach for Andy's tits.

They're fucking great tits. She could write fucking poems to those tits, but she'd much rather get her fingers and mouth on them.

Nipping, sucking, biting down, until Andy is coming, too. Until Booker lets out a shout, and Joe curses, and Nicky...

Nicky is riding Joe like a hammer, and Nile watches over her shoulder as Andy's fingers start lazily tracing along her skin.

When they'd said Booker would be forgiven, and they really needed to welcome Nile, she'd been expecting, like, a watch. This isn't a watch, and a small part of her is still asking if this is even real. But they were drinking, and Booker was apologizing again, and Andy--

Andy was back, which was why Booker was forgiven. Or Booker was back because Andy was immortal again. The events were still a confusing jumble of blood and the taste of her own vomit, and the smell of Joe's guts, Andy dying and then not dying.

Which is a mood killer, so Nile shoves them to the side.

There's much more important things, like whether Andy's cunt tastes as good as it smells, and if she can get her own fingers and tongue into someone's ass.

Feeling pulses through her, and she hears Joe curse, and Booker whine, and realizes she's lost the thread of her own thoughts and sense of self.

She can feel Nicky's fingers on her hips, ghosting down her flesh as he pounds into her, and she curses and curls her toes as Joe comes all over Booker's face and someone's leg (possibly her own).

When this is over, when she has had Andy, or the others, and the taste of sex is no longer filling her mouth, she's going to ask about this. Demand the answers they frequently side-step.

Fuck's sake, one of them has to know why they have this connection when sex is happening.

But right now?

Right now, her mouth is hot on Andy's skin, and Booker is whining about refraction periods, and Joe is complaining that he hasn't tasted Nicky yet, and Nile is just going to fuck them all.

Questions can come later.

https://archiveofourown.org/works/25596280

Filled here.

They've been having sex long enough that they've tried a lot of things that require a lot of trust or a lot of time. Some of those things they only do once, or twice if there's any doubt about the possibilities of switching roles, and other things are designated by spoken or unspoken agreement as acts reserved for places – like Malta – or for times when they are alone.

Up to this point, Joe had been pretty certain that this was one of those things. That wouldn't explain how he's sprawled in his chair at the dining room table of a safe house somewhere in the outback, legs spread wide because Nicky's between them on his knees, carrying on a conversation with Andy about where they should go surfing in the morning, with his soft cock in Nicky's warm mouth.

They did talk about it. Andy's had the keys to this place longer than them and she let them know that she'd be coming by but couldn't be specific about when. When Nicky had gotten antsy for this specific thing, for the way it made him feel, Joe had asked him, “If Andy gets in tonight, do you want to stop?”

He felt warmth bloom in his chest the way Nicky took a deep breath and tried to clear his mind enough to think about it, deciding on, “I don't think so. Unless it bothers her.”

“If you change your mind you can just get up and go.” Joe promised him, sealing it with a kiss. “Don't even worry about leaving me hanging out, Andy's seen it before.”

They'd spent most of the day on the couch. Joe fished himself casually out of his jeans and spread his knees and Nicky's mouth was there, ready. Joe watched the game and idly sketched some action shots, alternating between petting Nicky's hair, telling him how good he is, and ignoring him completely, shouting at the players. They took a break for a late lunch, a particularly lazy charcuterie situation that had Joe slicing pieces of cheese and meat at will, feeding them to Nicky to keep that blissed-out smile on his face, to press his fingers where his cock had been all afternoon.

He checked in afterwards because he always does, asking “Do you want to keep going?” but he already knew Nicky would say, “Yes please, Joe.”

The second time around it was more difficult for Joe to stay detached. It was like he could feel every tiny movement of Nicky's tongue, every swallow had him fighting the urge to thrust up into Nicky's mouth like he owns it. He knows he does. Knowing it and feeling it are usually two different things but right then they were twisted up together. The first time Nicky shifted just a little, moving a hand from Joe's ankle to the top of his thigh, Joe made a noise he was afraid would have Nicky moving away. He felt himself twitching in Nicky's mouth, growing, blood rushing from his head.

Nicky looked up at him, bright-eyed, pleased. He hummed a little as Joe pushed a hand through his hair, stroked his cheekbones, touched his mouth. Joe was properly hard, dripping precum into Nicky's throat in a way that has him salivating more, drooling in a way that was so hot it created a feedback loop of yes yes yes and mine mine mine in Joe's head. It must have been written all over his face because Nicky blushed and lowered his eyes. Neither of them moved to separate and Joe didn't make a move to chase his pleasure either, just wallowed it in, let it wash over them both, how hard he was, how good Nicky was being.

Joe couldn't see a clock from the couch so he didn't know how long they were like that, but eventually his cock figured out it wasn't getting what it wanted and softened again, slow. It takes a while, his cock has never been the smartest part of him, especially when it comes to Nicky. Flexing his tense thighs and feeling it soft again was almost as good as coming in Nicky's mouth. They took a break again to use the bathroom and then held each other with their foreheads together for a long moment. It's heavy, sometimes, the weight of all that they want from each other, the weight of what Joe wants to give him.

They settled down again at the dining room table. Nicky knelt just to the side of it on a pillow stolen from their bed and lifted his head, opened his mouth. Joe sat because he wasn't sure his legs could hold him long, faced with that. He also sat because that's what brought him close enough to feed Nicky his cock again, half-hard now, confused by the action it was getting and not getting. Nicky closed his eyes and pressed closer, wrapping his arms loosely around Joe's waist. Joe picked up the book he left on the table at breakfast and began reading aloud, keeping his voice pitched low.

When they hear two sharp knocks at the door, Nicky has shifted so that his hands are behind his back. Every time Joe looks down at him he breaks his own narration to tell him how beautiful he is, how good. He's thinking about getting up just for a minute, just for a glass of wine, and they hear the knocks. Nicky freezes. Joe knocks back three times on the kitchen table, giving Andy the all clear, keeping his eyes on Nicky.

When he can hear her kicking her boots off at the front door he says, “Hold on a sec Andy, okay? Don't come in yet.”

There's a shuffle he recognizes as Andy dropping her bags and shedding her coat. She doesn't pull a gun because she trusts his signal from earlier, but she's wary. “What's wrong? Are you two decent?”

“Uh.” Joe says, laughing a little because she means it as a joke but he supposes they're not, really. Nicky stays where he is but he lifts his gaze to meet Joe's. “Not exactly. Wow, this is a lot harder to explain than I thought it would be. Listen, should I tell you or do you want to-”

Andy pushes the door open and steps into the dining room, impatient. She stops just inside, taking in the sight of them. Joe isn't prepared for the way it makes him feel to meet her gaze like this, he pets a hand down Nicky's head to comfort them both, asking, “Okay?” to the room writ large. This has always been hot, has always made him hot that Nicky wants it so bad, something about extending the percentage of their long long lives that his cock has been in Nicky's mouth appeals to him in a way he's never thought he would have to explain to anyone. Andy seeing it is different. It's bigger.

Still, if Nicky pulls off and goes in the other room he won't be mad. If Andy so much as pulls a face he'll call it off himself. He'll hold tight to the memory of this one long moment anyway, he thinks, but then it turns out he doesn't have to because once again he's the luckiest man in the world. Andy, keeping her eyes on them, crosses into the kitchen to get the wine and two glasses. Just two. Joe grins down at Nicky, bright with it like they're getting away with something, and all the tension in Nicky's spine melts away. He keeps his hands behind his back but now it feels like he's proving something.

Andy sits down across from him and pours them each a glass. “You guys do this a lot?”

“Never done it with someone else.” Joe answers, uncertain how much a lot would be.

“Aw, I'm honored.” Andy says, smiling like it's a joke but she really is touched. “Seen it before, not exactly like this though. He likes it?”

“He loves it.” Joe answers, the truth of it choking him up a little. Nicky, feeling left out or just wanting to mess with him, rubs at Joe with his tongue, encouraging his cock to fill out. It does, but Joe keeps ignoring him.

“He's pretty, like this.” Andy says, watching. “How long have you...?”

“On and off all day.” Joe says, petting Nicky's head, tugging lightly because he's hard enough now that it's making him want to do something about it. Nicky's tongue goes soft and pliant again, just holding. Joe wants to tell him he's good but he finds himself a little embarrassed about it, even though it's Andy.

He glances up at her and she says it for him, “He's good at it. Being still, focused.”

“He is so good.” Joe agrees. Nicky goes pink.

“Yeah.” Andy says, drinking her wine, looking at Nicky and then Joe, “Well, you guys have stuff for dinner? I'll cook if you want.”

“Are you sure? You just got here, you must be tired.” Joe says, though he makes absolutely no movement to get up.

“No problem.” Andy insists, setting her glass down. “You guys aren't kinky enough if you ask me. Just let me wash some of the dust off.” She stands and makes for the bathroom.

Alone again, Joe pushes Nicky off his cock, gently. “Hey, sorry babe but I'm gonna need verbal confirmation okay? Can you look at me?”

Nicky looks at him, licking his red red mouth and leaning his head up against Joe's thigh. He brings his hands around to clutch at Joe's ankles. His eyes are blown wide and now that he's looking Joe can tell he's hard in his boxers.

Joe wants to hear him say yes so bad he can taste it, his cock twitches against Nicky's cheek at the thought, but he makes himself ask calmly, “You still want this?”

“Yes.” Nicky says, opening his mouth, waiting. Joe shakes his head at him, amazed. He can still hear the sink on in the bathroom.

“You want to stay down there and keep my cock warm while I eat dinner and talk to Andy?”

“Yes.” Nicky says again. He sounds a little bit like he's high, but he's clearly following what Joe is saying because his hips tick upwards in an aborted little thrust. Fuck he's so hot.

“Alright babe, alright. You can have it, here you go.” Joe agrees, holding himself at the base and gripping Nicky's head by his hair, feeding him his cock again. Nicky groans, just once, and settles back down, shaking a little with how turned on he is.

Andy comes back into the room and laughs at the wonder on Joe's face. Nicky's face goes red with what seems like it might be humiliation, but his hips kick up again too. Joe files that away for later. For now, he's going to have a normal conversation with his boss while his heart and soul keeps him warm. The way that feels is indescribably good.

Yusuf is not looking. He's not. They've stopped killing each other every time one of them turns his back but they still aren't speaking unless it's absolutely necessary. So Yusuf definitely isn't looking at Nicolò's cock when he happens upon where his reluctant ally is pissing.

It's just that, if he was looking, he'd be wondering how Nicolò even walks with that thing between his legs.

He turns around and goes back to camp, forgetting why he stumbled on Nicolò in the first place until the man comes back and says, “No firewood?”

He doesn't forget about it, can't stop thinking about it over the next few days in a way that's clearly starting to worry them both. No matter how much he tries to deny it to himself, he was looking and Nicolò's cock is- it's... Perhaps when he did not feel want looking at other men before it was because they were not as well-formed as the man he could not kill, who could not kill him. He's certainly feeling want now. He wants to see it again. Yusuf puts a hand over his mouth and wonders at this latest cruel twist of fate.

Then, because he is a man of action, he stands up from the patch of ground he was trying and failing to fall asleep on and climbs onto Nicolò instead. Given their recent history, it makes sense that he finds himself pinned by the throat with a knife at his breast the next moment, but Nicolò is looking at his open empty hands with confusion and mistrust, no longer hatred. That's a step in the right direction. A step towards what Yusuf now hopes is a destination where this man will split him open with that cock rather than the nearest weapon.

Nicolò is watching him, both of them catching their breath, and whatever he sees in Yusuf's face in the faint moonlight has him lowering the knife and asking, “What?” when it's clear he means What is your problem?

Yusuf thinks about how to say what he wants and then shrugs and shoves his hand down Nicolò's pants. The knife comes back pretty quickly, tearing into the fabric of his shirt, and Nicolò's hand around his neck briefly chokes him too, but none of that stops Yusuf from getting his hand on the man's cock. They both freeze, staring at each other. Yusuf is just holding him, not squeezing or stroking even though he'd appreciate the opportunity to better assess the size, he's just holding.

“What?” Nicolò says again, this time even more confused.

“Yes?” Yusuf asks, tugging oh so gently, otherwise completely under Nicolò's control. Nicolò could kill him, if the answer is no. He could kill him anyway, for this absolutely terrible attempt at seduction. Yusuf will do better next time, this time he waits for an answer.

“Why?” Nicolò asks, still mistrustful. He's getting hard anyway, growing in Yusuf's hand in a way that makes him fight a shiver of lust. Nicolò shifts a little, accidentally or on purpose pushing himself into Yusuf's fist, and the sound he makes is delicious. Oh, Yusuf thinks, maybe he's a virgin. Maybe he doesn't even know what he has.

“I want it.” Yusuf says, but he must not say it right because Nicolò's face scrunches up in confusion. It's one of Yusuf's favorite of his expressions, not that he's been looking closely at those either, but now he's thinking about all the faces Nicolò might make while fucking him and the confused little furrow can't hold a candle to those imaginings. “Yes?” He asks again, more forceful, like he's not being held down by the neck, like Nicolò doesn't have a knife at his heart.

“I... Yes.” Nicolò says, dropping his weapon, releasing Yusuf's throat. The instant he does, Yusuf rolls them back over and gets Nicolò's pants down, ignoring his little yelp of surprise.

He wants to light the fire again, to risk the attention it might get them from passersby, just to get a better look than the darkness offers. He wants to write a fucking poem. Instead he gets both hands, both fucking hands, around Nicolò's cock and stares at the way the pretty pink head is still completely visible. He must be staring a little too long because Nicolò shifts, impatient, still somehow unsure.

“Yusuf?” He asks, and then says something Yusuf doesn't understand. He makes a noise of agreement anyway, guessing, and shifts down Nicolò's body to get his mouth around him. Nicolò gets pushy quickly, even though Yusuf can't possibly fit all of him into his mouth. It's hot, anyway, how Nicolò tries to hold himself back and keep quiet. Yusuf strokes down away from his lips, spreading his own spit, and tugs at Nicolò's balls with his other hand. They're large too, which honestly explains a lot about him.

Either he is a virgin or it's been a while, because Yusuf barely gets into a groove before Nicolò goes tense, balls drawing up, and chokes out something that could be a warning or a prayer or both, coming long and hard into Yusuf's mouth. Yusuf swallows and releases him, a little disappointed but eager to get his own pants off immediately. It's only after he does that he realizes Nicolò is still breathing hard, right where he left him. His cock is still hard too, red and wet up against his belly. Nicolò sees him staring and goes red all over, making like he wants to cover himself up but can't quite manage it even with two hands and fuck fuck Yusuf needs that in him already this is getting ridiculous.

He says, “Nicolò.” and, only when the big idiot meets his eyes, turns around with deliberate slowness, sinking to his hands and knees.

“Fuck me.” Yusuf says, “Please, please, please. Either fuck me or kill me again Nicolò because I swear-” he stops talking abruptly because Nicolò is moving behind him, putting a hand on his back.

“Yusuf?”

“Fuck. Me.” Yusuf begs, pressing back into Nicolò's enormous cock. It slides against his ass in a way that makes them both groan.

Slowly, Nicolò moves closer on his knees, slowly he presses down against Yusuf's back until he drops to his elbows. Yusuf feels the big wet head of his cock at his entrance and then Nicolò pauses, like he's suddenly realized they forgot a step.

“Yes?” He asks, quiet. It's heartbreaking.

“Yes!” Yusuf says and this time Nicolò seems ready for his impatience because his warm hand on Yusuf's hip stops him from pressing back and taking what he wants. He presses in slowly but it still hurts, burns, must be painfully tight around Nicolò too. Yusuf thinks he might cry if he can't have this right now immediately, can't have all of him. It's a lot to ask for, he knows. Either he completely loses track of time, or their immortal bodies have a way of granting Yusuf's wish, or they truly are made for each other. Whatever the explanation, he finds himself groaning low and victorious at the feeling of Nicolò's balls slapping against him.

Nicolò chuckles, a deep, almost mean sound that Yusuf immediately wants to hear again. He says something Yusuf doesn't make out, thrusts gently, barely pulling an inch back out and sliding back in. “Yes?” He says, “Yusuf?”

“Yes Nicolò.” Yusuf says, not bothering to keep the love from his voice. It's overwhelming, this feeling. He thinks about how much of Nicolò is inside him and feels his his own cock jerk and drip, untouched. His knees and arms scrape against the dirt as Nicolò thrusts, getting more into it, trusting that Yusuf's body will continue to accept him. He's unpracticed, excitable, following a series of quick sharp thrusts with a shaky slow one like he's already fighting off climax. Yusuf loves him for it, loves the way his enormous cock never quite leaves him. It feels endless, it feels like sparks going off in his body every time Nicolò groans his name and presses deeper.

He knows Nicolò won't last much longer when he starts grinding in, and in and in, fucking into him without withdrawing much at all, hitting whatever spot inside Yusuf that makes him feel like he's going to shake apart over and over. He knows and he expects Nicolò to shoot inside of him, he clenches up imagining it. That's not what happens, because, he'll find out later, Nicolò didn't know he was allowed to. Instead, the whole lovely length of him leaves Yusuf in one sudden movement, sliding free with a wet noise and slapping against his ass with another one. Nicolò comes all over his back instead grinding so hard into him that Yusuf's knees give out. Nicolò rubbing his big cock into Yusuf's lower back pushes Yusuf's cock down into the dirt and his own precum where he comes shouting, clenching around nothing, shaking, feeling Nicolò rut against him until he's spent and finally softens.

They collapse, Nicolò mostly on top of him, until their sense of self returns. Even then, they can't quite bring themselves to separate, to clean up. Neither one of them wants to break the peace that lust brought. The last thing Yusuf manages to do before he gives in to sleep is to curl up behind Nicolò and hand him his knife back.

In the morning he wakes up in the same position, one hand wrapped possessively around Nicolò's cock.

The team drives out to the coast for rest and relaxation, calming sea air, space far away from normal people to get some combat practice in, and time to answer all Nile's questions. This is Nicky's plan and he makes it happen through a combination of puppy eyes and... well, that's pretty much all it takes.

“Who doesn't like the beach?” Nicky asks, cajoling, like he isn't already driving them there. Joe grumbles and watches the ocean out the passenger side window, but he takes Nicky's hand over the center console when Nicky reaches for him. Andy is texting, they're all pretending they don't know she's talking to Booker. Only Nile smiles back at Nicky in the rear-view mirror.

“I'm good with surf n' turf and swimming and twenty questions,” Nile says, because the last few days have been a lot and she's willing to embrace a break, “But, why exactly is training part of the plan? You guys know I have combat training, I'm the one who rescued you.”

“Never let us forget it!” Joe says, and it should be sweet and encouraging but the implication that he's also in favor of never forgetting why she had to is obvious. Nicky squeezes his hand, a comfort and a warning.

“So, what gives?” Nile asks.

“We were thinking you might want to train with our weapons, just in case.” Nicky explains, turning off the main road and down a long winding dirt driveway. There's a pale blue single-story house down at the end of it and no other buildings around.

“It happens more than you'd think.” Andy says, “Obviously we all prefer our own gear, but it's better not to hesitate in a fight if somebody throws you a sword.”

Nile thinks about what she knows of sword fighting, which is pretty much nothing outside of movies, and shrugs, “Cool.”

From up close, the outside of the house doesn't look like much but the open floor plan inside means that as soon as they open the front door they can see the ocean straight ahead through patio doors on the other side. Nile dumps coolers full of food in the kitchen and makes a beeline for those doors, stepping through onto the back deck with stairs that lead straight onto the beach.

They have a light lunch and settle in to the house and then Nicky and Joe stage a fight for Nile to watch. They promise to show her basic form afterward but insist that it will help her just to spectate, Andy rolls her eyes and tries to get Nile to bet with her on this “weird foreplay slash vanity project”.

Nile and Andy sit on the deck steps and watch Nicky and Joe warm up, stretching and teasing each other. The dichotomy between their ancient weapons and the literal salmon shorts Joe is wearing is hilarious. They start about ten feet apart, multilingual taunts dropping off in favor of watching each other closely. Their stances are completely different yet even barefoot in the sand they look dangerous.

Nicky lunges forward first, sword moving like a natural extension of his arm, and Joe effortlessly knocks it aside, his own sword moving in swooping arcs. Joe swings up towards Nicky's side and Nicky moves in close faster than Nile's ever seen him move. He kicks Joe's legs out from under him and shoves the grip of his sword against Joe's neck just under his jaw. Andy whoops, clapping as Joe goes down hard. He falls well, his sword ends up pointed towards Nile and Andy, proving he made no move against Nicky on his way down.

Nile claps too, hesitant, as Nicky helps Joe to his feet again. “Not gonna lie, I thought that was going to take much longer.”

Andy slaps a hand on her forehead, despairing. “Now you've done it...”

“I was demonstrating how to use a sword in a real fight!” Nicky protests, “We weren't showing off.”

“I think you were, actually.” Joe grumbles, brushing sand off his ass. Nicky reaches up to touch the bruises already fading from Joe's neck in gentle apology. Joe captures his hand and kisses it. “He's right though, you should have seen how short our first fight was.”

“Maybe you should show off, since you wanted an audience so bad.” Andy says, standing. “I'll get the beer, Nile.”

“Thanks.”

“We'll be here for a while now.”

Joe and Nicky separate and assume their starting poses again, but this time they hold them for a while, swords pointed towards each other, muscles tense.

This time when they move it's as if in slow-motion, reacting to each other like they're dancing. Nicky makes his sword look like it weighs nothing and moves forwards and back with solid steps and feet planted firmly. Joe shifts his weight a lot more, coming at Nicky from the sides, twisting like he intends to move straight through Nicky onto another opponent, but there isn't one and Nicky doesn't flinch from the way their blades cross.

For the first few minutes its like watching a choreographed fight in a movie, except that neither one of them gains space or the upperhand for long. Nile starts to notice more moments where they allow each other's small mistakes, taking a beer from Andy with a muttered “Thanks.” without taking her eyes off of them.

Nicky's sliding into something different, holding his shoulders in a new way, building new angles into his movements in a way that has her hypnotized. Joe complaining “Oh, don't go Spanish on me!” breaks her out of it and he lowers his sword and circles, catching his breath. Nicky allows it, following Joe in those circles patiently, his sword maintaining space between them that's starting to feel distinctly charged.

Joe re-enages with a flourish, breaking that distance quicker than either of them had been moving for a while. He twists their swords up together and breaks Nicky's grip on his longer weapon. It falls between them into the sand and Joe steps back, tapping the bottom of Nicky's chin with the end of his sword.
Nicky complains about this in Italian, stooping to take up his sword again, and says, “We were demonstrating for Nile, my love.”

“Now we're even.” Joe insists, walking backwards towards Andy and Nile like he can't bring himself to turn his back. Andy presses a beer into his hands when he's close enough.

“We're always even.” Nicky says, advancing on him.

Nile watches him expertly parry Joe's sword and snatch the beer from him with his offhand from up close and says, “Okay, when do I get to learn this stuff?”

Nicky smiles around the beer bottle, Joe glares at him and says, “Maybe tomorrow.”

Andy laughs when Nile throws her hands up in disbelief. “I tried to warn you. Let's give them some time alone huh? Maybe they'll be more likely to let you hold their toys if we feed them.”

The mood on their little battleground shifts abruptly without Andy and Nile, without the expectation that they're fundamentally showing good form for Nile to imitate. Joe points his sword at Nicky and says, “Give that back.”

“Mm, think you can make me?”

“I know I can make you, but I don't want you to spill it.”

“I won't spill it unless you make me.” Nicky teases, fighting off Joe's lazy prods at the edges of his defense one-handed, sipping the beer. “Didn't you tell me once that you only thirst for me?”

Joe smacks Nicky's shoulder with the flat of his blade, too quick for Nicky to bat away, making beer spill down onto his shirt. Nicky plucks at it in disbelief and comes at Joe with very little finesse. Brute strength doesn't get him far, because Joe can get two hands on his sword right now and Nicky can't, so he gives in to dirty underhanded tactics – generally more Booker's style – and just tries to pour as much of the beer onto Joe as possible. It's not much, because Joe doesn't much appreciate this and ends up forcing Nicky to drop the bottle and fight him properly again.

Properly might be a bit of a stretch. They move less, keeping the movements of their blades tight, but they're too well matched for that to be entertaining for either of them since they don't actually intend to stab each other. Besides, Nicky is right, Joe does thirst for him, has since that first effortless way he knocked him on his ass. When the exact distance of Nicky's blade and his arm feels entirely too far, Joe takes a step back, drops his own sword, and rushes forward. He trusts Nicky to disengage in time, beside which, it's fun to watch the surprise in his eyes melt into delight as he's tackled backwards into the sand.

“Let's not teach that to Nile.” Nick says, removing his beer-soaked shirt now that they're not fighting. Joe helps, having Nicky shirtless underneath him is usually in his best interest. “I could have skewered you.”

“You still can.” Joe says, winking. Nicky laughs and gets his hands under Joe's shirt now, encouraging him to take it off.

Joe sits up and does, crossing his arms and throwing it dramatically up over his head in one movement, laughing when Nicky falls back against the sand and groans at the sight like he's never seen it before. Joe takes the opportunity to properly pin him, hands on his wrists, and kiss him deeply. The kiss drags out, messy, and Joe can't help himself from grinding down against Nicky until he wrenches his head away gasping for air.

“Joe, what are you doing?”

“Quenching my thirst.”

“You can't.” Nicky protests, but his squirming only seems to grind them closer together, “They'll see us from the house.”

“I ” Joe says, kissing him again, “Don't.” and again, “Care.” and again. While Nicky's gasping with laughter, Joe releases his hands and slides down his body.

Nicky grabs at him ineffectually, twisting in the sand as Joe mouths at his cock through his beach trunks. They're adorable, printed with flowers, he's had them on since convincing everyone they needed to come to the beach this morning. They don't hide a single thing now that Nicky's growing hard. Joe actually finds them more adorable with the head of Nicky's dick peeking out, but he's bias. He can't get his mouth on it fast enough.

Nicky puts both hands in Joe's hair, probably getting sand in there he'll have to work free in the shower later. If Nile or Andy does catch sight of them like this it'll be beyond obvious, but Joe doesn't care enough to stop when it feels this good. He shoves Nicky's trunks down to get a better grip on him, makes deliberate eye contact with Nicky and licks him like a popsicle, reveling in the taste, the sun at his back, and the clench of Nicky's fingers in his hair.

Nicky says, “Are you comfortable like this?”

“Sure.” Joe replies, taking Nicky into his mouth to prove it, delighting in the clench of Nicky's thighs.

“I'm just wondering how long you plan to be down there because-”

“Until you give it to me Nicky. Why? Did you want to ah, swordfight again?” Joe asks, grinning, switching his grip on Nicky's cock to something a little more firm and familiar.

Nicky tugs on his hair, laughing, and says “No, no, just, I wouldn't want to upset Nile.”

Joe pretends to think about that, tapping the head of Nicky's dick against his lower lip, “Hmm... well...”

“Joe.” Nicky groans, tipping his head back.

“We better make it fast then.” Joe says.

It's not usually fast this way around, when Joe's mouth is busy and he can't coax Nicky into it with words, when Nicky can't reciprocate. Maybe the fight worked him up, or maybe the threat of discovery is getting to him. Or maybe Joe's just really good with his mouth. Whatever it is, Joe gets his taste.

They’ve been voluntary participants in the kinds of experiments that Merrick is funding, though admittedly not with his level of technology, in the past. That was with trusted doctors, or through layers of anonymity. It’s how Nicky is so certain that the secrets their bodies contain can’t be shared with others. The thing is, they’ve never had the thought that Dr. Kodak seems to have, looking over Joe with a critical eye. The fact that he’s currently dead doesn’t seem to concern her, even though Nicky is ready to do something dramatic to get her to stop, he settles for asking the question, “What more could you possibly want from us?” It comes out tired, rather than angry, despite his fury. Joe’s right, these are infants playing at being Gods. They don’t understand the pain they’re causing, they deserve mainly pity.

Nicky tries to remember that when the doctor snaps a new set of gloves on and says, straight-faced, “Semen.”

“No.” Nicky says, before he even fully comprehends what she’s saying. She’s turning towards him now, with that same considering eye. If he wasn’t strapped to the table he’d be covering his crotch with both hands, really not liking that look. “No, this is- you understand, Doctor, that would be-“

“Worthy of experimentation, a sample we couldn’t possibly overlook.”

“No.” Nicky says, distracted as Joe gasps back to life to his left. He holds eye contact, waits for the familiar warmth of that gaze, before he goes back to the argument he can’t believe he’s having. “It would be rape.”

“Not if you consented.” She says, digging around in a cabinet for a tool she must not use often. The back of her neck is red. “If you care anything for the rest of us-“

“What’s going on?” Joe demands, scowling. Nicky doesn’t use that word lightly. “Nicky, don’t listen to her.”

“She wants your seed, my love.” Nicky says in Italian, making it a joke to help soothe his own nerves as much as Joe’s, “I can't blame her, but-“

“No!” Joe insists. “Nicky there’s no way-“

“You can’t know that it won’t be important to saving lives.” The doctor says, and she’s holding something that looks like a frighteningly complicated sex toy, the kind Joe always makes a face at in the shops.

Nicky takes a deep breath and tries to gain control of the situation again. He asks Joe, again in Italian, “Our family is going to rescue us, yes?”

“Yes.” Joe says, “But-“

“So they won’t keep any of the samples, yes?” Nicky continues.

“Yes, but so what? You think I’m going to watch while you-“

“You could let me watch.” Nicky says. Joe goes quiet. He stares at Nicky like he’s trying to figure out his angle, like this must be a prank.

“You… want that?”

“I wonder how long you’d last, with that thing on you.” Nicky says, in English now because the doctor is clearly trying to figure out if they’re going to cooperate. “I wonder if you’ll fit.”

“Nicky.” Joe groans, throwing his head back. He complains, stubbornly continuing in the language their captor doesn’t understand, “Then she’s the one who can’t consent, she doesn’t know this is a filthy game for you!”

“Mmm, good point. Doctor?” Nicky says.

“Nicky, really?” Joe whines.

“Yes?” Dr. Kozak says, glancing between them.

“Would you consent to being a participant in a sexual scenario with the two of us, which will result in your sample being collected much sooner?” Nicky asks.

“Much?” Joe parrots, offended now.

“Uh. You’ll both stay restrained?”

“Yes.”

“And… I’ll still just be attaching and removing the device?”

“Yes.”

“Nicky, it’s my dick!” Joe complains, clearly (to Nicky anyway) on the verge of saying yes too. He’s already showing interest, and besides, Nicky knows every part of them belongs to each other.

“Then I’m not sure how it’s any different for me.”

“It’s not,” Nicky tells her, “But even though you are torturing us and I’ve decided to make the best out of this particular part of that, my lover needs to hear you consent to touching him and playing a role in sex with him.”

“It’s... not sex.” The Doctor says, glancing between them with confusion, ending up staring at Joe’s more and more obvious erection.

“Lover!?” Joe says, snorting.

“I’m using words she understands, they have to be small ones.” Nicky tells him in Italian. Joe grins at him, mean and gorgeous.

“Do you consent?” Nicky asks again.

“Yes.” The doctor says, clearing her throat, “I consent.”

“Then please, proceed.”

She nods, uncertain, keeping her distance like she thinks Joe might bite her. She undoes his flies with shaking hands, pulling his cock and balls free with gloved hands.

Joe stops glaring at her to meet Nicky’s heated gaze when Nicky says, “Beautiful. How does it feel?”

“Rubbery.” Joe says, as she lifts his length and slowly pushes him into a clear tube.

Nicky is biting his lips, watching, but he knows Joe needs to hear his voice right now. “And now? What is it doing?”

The machine comes on with a low whirring noise, like a very weak vibrator. Joe tenses up all over and jerks once, with a soft “Ah!” noise that has Nicky’s dick twitching in sympathy.

“It’s- there’s suction. It’s clinging everywhere, Nicky.”

“Is it warm?” Nicky asks, “Does it feel like my mouth?”

“Not at all.” Joe says, sounding furious, “Nothing feels as good as your mouth. It’s like I’m fucking a vacuum cleaner.”

Nicky laughs but keeps his eyes on Joe’s dick. It’s not flagging.

The doctor clears her throat again, looking very pink for all her supposed professionalism. Nicky forgets how impressive Joe is, how gorgeous. He’s certainly ruined Nicky for all others, something about the idea that she will fantasize about Joe after this - assuming she survives - makes him feel possessive and proud at once. “I’m going to engage the uh, um-“ she can’t seem to find the words, but flips a switch anyway.

A part, which was previously just pressing against the head of Joe’s dick, starts to move up and down. Joe chokes on his own spit and tries to fuck up into it or possibly away from it, frantic.

“Joe, Joe, calm down.” Nicky says, even though he’s keeping his own hips in check now, fully hard at the display. The doctor has sat down far enough away that she can watch both of them, she’s started taking notes.

Joe manages to stop thrusting, biting out, “Nicky this thing is demonic. It’s almost painful. It’s- fuck. It’s dragging it out of me. I think-“

“What Joe?”

“It’s gonna hurt. Fuck. Nicky I can’t believe you think this is hot, you filthy creature. I love you, I would do anything for you-“

“Mm, I know you would. Are you going to come?”

“Yes!” Joe says, nearly screaming it. The doctor jumps, dropping her clipboard. “Fuck, yes I’m going to come, I can’t believe this- Nicky, Nicky.” He starts to sound frantic, twisting his shoulders against the gurney and squeezing his eyes shut. His dick looks so red it’s almost purple, so thick it’s like it’s going to break out of the device.

Nicky licks his lips and says, “You’re doing so well Joe, you’re so perfect for me, doing this. Go ahead and come and it’ll be over. Give them a big sample Joe, come on-“

Joe shouts nearly indecipherable swears, cursing out the machine, the doctor, the universe, and comes. He comes a lot, even though the doctor rushes over and hurriedly shuts the moving part off and releases the suction element. It drips down onto the flies of his pants and the doctors blue gloves. Nicky, hearing mostly his own heart beating in his ears, has the somewhat hysterical thought that maybe she’ll let him lick it off if he asks nicely. He doesn’t ask, but he does let himself imagine it.

She tucks Joe’s softening cock away with a minimum of touching, and turns to extract her sample from the machine. Joe turns to Nicky.

“Alright.” He says, nearly breathless. “That was-“

“Kind of fun?” Nicky asks, trying to convey everything he’s feeling to Joe with only his eyes. Joe seems to get it, he looks like he did in the van earlier, on the verge of tears.

“One of the more absurd little deaths you’ve brought me to.” Joe says. “I almost want Andy and Booker to take their time, if I get to watch that happen to you.”

“Shit.” Nicky swears, precisely. He’d almost forgotten about that, forgotten about everything in the face of pleasure being wrought from Joe so absolutely without either of them expending any real effort. Nicky feels himself shaking a little, uncertain if he’s coming down from some high, approaching a new one, or simply scared.

“Nicky, Nicky.” Joe says, getting his attention again and holding it this time. “We’re okay. Our family will be here, they'll kill everyone between them and us.”

He says it in English, and the conviction in his voice must get through to the doctor. She turns back towards them and says, “Maybe we could work out some kind of deal after all?”

Joe smiles. It’s not a smile that promises mercy, but only Nicky would know that.

Prompt was: "One of them shaves the other. Sexily?"

Have some shaving porn:

"Laid Bare" https://archiveofourown.org/works/25651018

It starts with Booker.

Nicky was sitting with the newest member, while Joe and Andy talked to the revolutionaries at the next table. They spoke in low voices, but the tables were close, and Joe could have picked up his Nicolo’s voice on a battlefield (had, in fact, on more than one occasion), would know his words over the screams and cries of every man in this country, much less the dull murmur of the cafe.

“Never?” Booker was saying incredulously. “Really?”

“When would I have had the chance?” Nicky sounded amused. “I entered the priesthood at a young age. I left to fight for what I thought my God demanded, and for that, my life was nothing but death until I met Joe.”

‘I know priests,” said Booker.”Most of the boys I knew, they always… tried what they were giving up before making any vows. Found a pretty girl- or boy, in your case. You were never tempted?”

Andy pulled back Joe’s attention before he could hear Nicky’s answer. She was disguised as a man for this one, but even so, the men that they were meeting stared at her openly as if they thought she was some sort of avenging angel. They weren’t wrong, but Joe, as he had done for centuries, only had eyes for Nicky.

He glanced behind him at the other table, and Nicky, sensing his gaze, looked up at him and smiled in such a way that Joe was certain his heart stopped beating for longer than it had in decades.

Still, he couldn’t get Booker’s words out of his head. Nicky was a handsome man. Even Andy was aware of this. He garnered more than his faire share of attention, especially these days, when his looks were so in fashion, with his high cheekbones and pale features. Joe could hardly begrudge others the pleasure he engaged so heartily in himself. And Nicky loved people. He had an easy way about them, and while his smile would have melted steel, while it claimed Joe’s heart every time it was directed at him, it was not his alone.

He brought it up once in Spain. “She was looking at you,” he whispered into Nicky’s ear one morning as the girl in question walked away.

Nicky looked up from his book, his brow furrowed. “That’s not the target,” was all he said.

Joe gave up.

But not for long. In Greece, a merchant with strong hands watched Nicky with hunger. “I’m sure he would let you stay if you asked.”

Nicky frowned. “Andy said she would find accommodations this time,” he said.
“Besides, if he lives near here, it would be too far away from the water.”

(Kill me now, Joe whined to Andy later that night. She ignored him.)

The final straw was a cold country and a room with two beds. It had taken all of Joe’s charm to get the suspicious old man at the desk to agree to even that, claiming poverty that kept them from the dignity of separate rooms. Both were throughly exhausted by the time the door closed.

“Stupid old man,” Nicky muttered, dropping his bag with a bang. “I don’t comment on the smell of spoiled milk on his breath, leave my sleeping arrangements the same courtesy.”

Joe watched him out of the corner of his eyes. “I do hear that things are safer in other parts of the world,” he said, fighting to keep his voice casual.

Nicky brightened considerably. “We could go back to Malta after this job is done,” he suggested.

“Or you could.” Joe avoided his gaze. “You could travel wherever you wanted. Take- take some time.” He looked up. It was clear that Nicky wasn’t following. “Apart, I mean,” he clarified. “From each other.

Nicky’s eyebrows pulled together. “Are you angry with me, Josef?” He asked softly, switching to Italian. “Have I done something wrong?”

“No, habibi, never,” Joe rushed to say. “My love, your soul rises above all others, your kindness and fierceness and the beauty of your eyes, the strength of your hands. How could I be angry with the moon, the stars, with the sun? Does the fire do something wrong when it burns, when it warms? Have the skies committed some sin for the rain that grows the crops? No, I could never be angry with you, my love.”

“And yet you ask me to leave.”

“I don’t ask, I-” Joe paused, trying to keep the frustration out of his voice. “I am offering, Nicolo. If you want to travel separately for a while, I would not hold it against you.”

“But why would I?” asked Nicky. “I don’t understand. We’ve traveled together for eight hundred years.”

Joe sighed. It was clear that this beautiful, impossible man was going to make him spell it out no matter how much he didn’t want to.

“Niko,” he said, “I’ve had other relationships.” When Nicky’s face fell, the pit in his stomach demanded that he make it right. “Before I met you, I mean,” he said hurriedly. “You- you have never had that opportunity. It’s been over seven hundred years, surely you must want to know what else is available to you.”

Nicky’s confusion cleared now, but for all the centuries they had known each other, Joe wasn’t sure he could put a name to the emotion that crossed his face. He sat down heavily on the nearer of the two beds, a room’s length and a lifetime apart from Joe.

“I know what is out there,” he said, jerking his chin towards the door. His voice was measured, like how he spoke to strangers who didn’t know how dangerous he really was, but were about to find out. “I’ve met plenty of people in our travels, and not one of them compares to you. You are the love of my life, my eternity. Don’t try to send me away, my love, I won’t stand for it.”

“I’m sorry,” Joe started, but Nicky shushed him. The taller man stood, stepping closer to him, cupping his chin in his hands and making Joe look up at him.

“If I allowed you to think otherwise, then I am the one who should be sorry,” he said. He kissed Joe hard, not like he was conquering a foreign land, but like a man who has come home after a long journey, testing the walls of his house to see if it was still his. From the way Joe melted into his arms, there would be no doubt left who he belonged to.

Nicky broke the kiss long enough to whisper “my love,” like a reminder as he pulled Joe back towards the bed. He laid his husband down, his long fingers deftly undoing his buttons while his eyes never looked away from his beloved’s face.

“Nicolo-” Joe started, but he was cut off by a kiss.

“Yusuf,” Nicky whispered against his lips.

He managed to pull Joe’s shirt off, running a hand over his bare chest as though he was desperate for the warmth, before turning his attention to his trousers. “You forgot,” he said, between kisses pressed to Joe’s neck. “Let me remind you.”

“Nicky,” Joe gasped. “If you don’t get naked right this second I am going to expire on the spot.”

Nicky laughed, but obliged, pulling his shirt over his head and undressing them both until their legs were tangled together, their bodies pressed close without a single barrier. He kissed Joe deeply on the lips, pausing to ravish attention on the side of his neck, before scraping his teeth up his throat and returning to kiss the moans out of his mouth. Joe bucked upwards even as Nicky calmed him with soft sounds.

Joe found that he couldn’t look away when Nicky pulled apart from him. His eyes didn’t ask his permission before tracing over the sharp angles of his beloved’s face, the way his hair fell towards his sea-green eyes. He ached to touch, to hold, but when he began to move, he realized that Nicky was still holding his arms down onto the bed.

“Stay where you are,” Nicky said, none too gently. He ran a hand down Joe’s chest, trusting his beloved to hold still even unrestrained. Joe obeyed.

The warmth against his body disappeared for a moment as Nicky got up, and returned when he did. Joe didn’t close his eyes until he felt one lubricated finger inside of him, and he couldn’t contain a moan. He felt Nicky’s mouth on his throat, on his chest, his hand working inside of him, the flutter of his eyelashes against his bare skin, and he was lost.

“Open your eyes,” Nicky whispered, an eternity later, and Joe did, bucking upwards. His lover was watching him, his gentle face steady, with a small smile spreading across his lips.

He entered him without hesitation, and Joe felt himself open beneath him as if he was born for this, for the gentle rocking of their hips and the soft kisses against his mouth. Nicky didn’t move away, holding him close as they moved together. They could go faster or harder, often did. Sometimes the strength of their passion left them both with healing bruises, lips bloodied from where kisses turned to bites, exhausted but satisfied. There was never one victor in these moments- they both won.

As much as he relished those nights, Joe thought that he loved this most of all. When he was pressed into the bed, bracketed by Nicky’s strong arms, with the warmth of his lover’s body so close to his. There was no room for thought, for doubt. His beloved’s soft breathing banished all thoughts of pain or boredom. A part of him almost regretted it when he felt his release take him, but he could never regret the way Nicky’s gasps turned sharper as his hips stuttered.

They lay together, limbs tangled, silent except for their breathing, for a long time. Joe was content to rest there, his head on Nicky’s chest, hearing his lover’s heartbeat, while Nicky ran his fingers through his hair.

“I hope that clarified a few things for you,” Nicky said. He sounded amused now, but the way his free hand wrapped around Joe’s shoulders could have just as easily been made of steel.

“I may need a reminder later,” said Joe.

Nicky kissed him.

FILL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25692388

FILL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25697629

FILL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25716748

Prompt; https://theoldguardkinkmeme.dreamwidth.org/1106.html?thread=79698#cmt79698

Fill: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25719814

Prompt: https://theoldguardkinkmeme.dreamwidth.org/1106.html?thread=96338#cmt96338

Fill: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25730020

prompt: https://theoldguardkinkmeme.dreamwidth.org/953.html?thread=28857#cmt28857

fill: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25719004

(Whoever requested this... you broke my brain. I don't know where this came from, I don't know why there's this much of it. I love this horny forum, this is for you.)

Most of Nicky’s videos are solo and quiet, a lot of them don’t even show his face. The only soundtrack is the soft little noises he makes when he really gets into it, when he comes. He gets famous for a series focused on hands-free orgasm, the most popular is black and white, long drawn out minutes of his dick twitching inside a tight pair of briefs until he groans and a wet spot grows around the head. He slowly rolls the waistband down to reveal the mess and his cock still dribbling. The camera man bites out a curse, awestruck, that they leave in the video.

Joe likes that one, he likes seeing Nicky’s hands at the end after feeling their absence the whole time. He also likes the one of Nicky jerking off laying horizontal across a couch, showing off the long lines of his legs and the flex of his arms. The cumshot is from just over Nicky’s shoulder, inviting the fantasy of being the one drawing it out of him. Joe’s favorite though is Nicky’s debut. It’s standard stuff, he’s smiling shyly and talking into the camera, wearing too-big borrowed clothes that quickly come off, answering questions about the languages he speaks, qualities he looks for in a partner, then he jerks off a little too fast, a little too loud. Joe wants to protect that Nicky, wants to kiss him.

In Joe’s videos he does a lot of kissing and a lot of talking. He’s never alone, in fact he sometimes has multiple partners. A lot of them are cheesy, movie parodies and other roleplaying. In one of his most popular videos he roughly fucks a smaller man in the stairwell of an apartment complex, holding him up against a wall, the sounds of it echoing so loud they end up with several voyeurs, all other porn actors of course. In another he’s cheerfully sandwiched between two guys in an enormous hotel bed, running his mouth the whole time about how good it feels, how hot they are. Nicky likes that one, when he’s flicking through Joe’s stuff, likes the way the praise sounds genuine and personal, likes the cadence of Joe’s voice.

The one that Nicky actually gets off too, the one he refuses to tell Andy he found hot, is ridiculous. Joe is naked and mud wrestling a number of other actors, there’s a bracket at the beginning but Nicky wasn’t paying attention. He’s filthy by the end of his first match, deliciously so, but his smile is so bright. Nicky can’t help but notice that Joe is good at wrestling, easily the best of the group though he’s a good sport about it. Something about his confidence, combined with the gentle way he fucks into the mouths of everyone he beats, claiming his victory blowjobs after each round in a way that must be editing magic but certainly makes it seem like he could go forever, makes it impossible for Nicky not to jerk off to it. Joe is kind and capable, Nicky thinks.

Everything about their first meeting is for the cameras. It’s a favor for Andy and Quynh who have something of a high-stakes bet going on a series of complicated possible outcomes. Though the two women started out together, co-owners of a single company, they had a rough breakup related to vague external pressures that they’ve never spoken about publicly and became competitors, rival CEOs. At least, rivals in the sense that there are endless internet fights about which team puts out better stuff. Nicky and Joe are about to become their first and only joint project since the split.

The first meeting is supposed to be a chemistry test for them, the cameras, and the rest of the crew to reference later for future planning. Andy and Quynh haven’t agreed on an angle yet and privately a lot of their staff aren’t sure they ever will. Still, they do agree it will be good to see how it goes and document the experience while they continue to hash out details.

Nicky arrives at Quynh’s studio led by Andy and followed by their newest crew member Nile, who really wants to make art films but appreciates their money as much as they appreciate her eye for angles and lighting.

“Are you nervous?” Nile asks, focusing on the way Nicky’s arms are crossed while they wait in the lobby.

He smiles into the camera for her, shoulders relaxing, “It’s just cold in here.”

Nile likes Nicky, even though she’s always a little distracted trying to figure out what color his eyes are. He’s a sweet guy, professional, level-headed. They haven’t known each other long but she likes to think they’re building trust and friendship, enough that she says, “Maybe if you ever wore more than a gray T-shirt you’d be warmer.” and knows he’ll laugh.

Nicky does laugh, uncrossing his arms to look down at his shirt, saying “What’s wrong with my shirts? They’re neutral.”

“I think people would prefer if you never wore a shirt.” Nile says, teasing. Nicky shakes his head, and then Andy gets their attention because Quynh is holding an elevator open for them. The ride up to the studio is tense and quiet, to the point where Nile knows she’s not getting anything usable and just turns the camera off.

Meanwhile, Booker is filming Joe as he wanders around the set like he’s worried about impressing a date. He keeps picking things up, stupid things, a vase with a single flower, and putting them down somewhere else. He’s actually nervous, Booker knows, not acting. It’s a little concerning.

“What the fuck’s wrong with you?” Booker asks, when Joe finally sits down on the couch so he can get back behind his tripod where he’s comfortable. “You don’t think he’s hot or something?”

“What? Who?” Joe asks, blinking wide-eyed. “Nicky? You’re joking right?”

“How many times do I have to tell you that-“

“You’re not into guys, sure, I know. Whatever you say Book, you’re the one who told me his cock is pretty.”

“It is.” Booker says, grumbling, screwing with his camera settings. “I thought it was weird. Most of the time they just look, I dont know-“

Joe laughs, relaxing by degrees, shifting so he’s got his arms stretched out on the back of the couch, posing. He’s definitely wearing this particular shirt, blue, long sleeved, because it clings to his muscles.

“They’re unremarkable or they’re big or whatever, not pretty.” Booker says, finishing the thought.

“So which of those is mine?” Joe asks, batting his eyelashes. He drops his hands to the crotch of his basketball shorts like they’re really filming a solo vid, saying, “Do you need to see it again?”

“There’s no good answer to that.” Booker says, toneless. He knows almost too well what Joe’s dick looks like at this point and they both know he’s big, the miserable bastard. Booker’s always thought that’s why Quynh hired him in the first place, although she says it was his smile. She stole Booker himself from Andy. He’s glad they already agreed neither woman would stop by for today’s shoot.

After Nicky and Nile follow Andy and Quynh off the elevator they’re shepherded down a hallway and away from their bosses who disappear into Quynh’s impressive glass office. Nile gets some close ups of Nicky’s game face, but he catches her at it and quirks a smile.

“What do you think the first thing he says to you will be?” Nile asks, fishing shamelessly, fully aware that Joe has a reputation for talking and flirting.

“Probably ‘hello, I’m Joe’.” Nicky says. Most people don’t know about his wry sense of humor.

Their guide clears their throat and opens a door for them. Nicky mutters a thank you and waits patiently for Nile to go ahead of him the way she asked, so she can get his first reactions on tape.

Nile backs into the room and Nicky follows, already trying to ignore her. It’s dark for a second, as they move through an area with racks of clothes and a backlit mirror for doing makeup, and then they step into the actual set. It’s nothing elaborate, a large comfortable looking brown leather couch in front of a fake wall painted off-white. The lights are blinding at first but then Nicky sees him.

Joe has already climbed off the couch. Standing in front of it with Booker’s camera on him, he’s feeling a little lost. Usually he’s got some points or poses to hit, some dialogue maybe or at least a character. Right now he’s just Joe, meeting a hot guy he probably gets to have sex with later, if they can get along any better than the boss and her ex.

When Joe sees Nicky he’s dumbstruck. He just stares for a moment, watching Nicky approach. It’s a good stare though, clearly Nicky can tell that much because he smiles.

Nile looks at the other camera person as if to ask What’s wrong with your guy? but finds he’s already giving her the same look. They both frown and go back to capturing the moment, she swings back around behind Booker and keeps her focus on Nicky’s face.

“Don’t tell me you don’t like my shirts either.” Nicky says, joking softly. There’s a tension in the room but he’s not tense, he seems to relax by degrees as he steps closer to Joe.

“No, no.” Joe assures him, looking away from Nicky’s face for the first time to take in what he’s wearing, his body. “It’s- I’m sorry. You’re beautiful.”

“You’re sorry?” Nicky says, smiling wider. They’re close enough to touch now, if one of them reached out. Joe looks like he very badly wants to but he’s still reeling.

“Sorry I haven’t introduced myself.” Joe says, shaking his head and seeming to come back down to Earth. “Would you like to sit down?”

Nicky’s eyes slide down Joe’s body and back up in a blatantly flirtatious move Nile’s never seen him pull before. Joe grins, pleased to be considered like that. “I’d love to.” Nicky says. He reaches out and takes the hand Joe had used to gesture at the couch, sitting and pulling Joe down beside him. He keeps hold of Joe’s hand between both of his and their knees brush.

Already Nile can tell this is going to work. They’re sweet, playful, and buzzing with mutual attraction. She spares another quick glance at the grump guy behind the tripod who looks back at her like he’s fighting a smile. Maybe Joe isn’t always like this.

“I’m Joe, well, I’m-“ Joe leans across the space between them and puts his mouth close to Nicky’s ear to whisper his real name. When he sits back again, Nicky has goosebumps. “But you should call me Joe.”

“Nicky.” Nicky says. He bites his lip and meets Joe’s gaze like he’s deciding something.

“You don’t have to-“ Joe starts, but Nicky shakes his head and squeezes Joe’s hand, leaning towards him this time. Joe meets him in the middle, turning his face to the cameras so they catch him smile and mouth Nicky’s full name to himself. They don’t move very far apart at all this time.

“I’m glad we’re finally meeting.” Joe says, smiling at him, drinking him in.

“Finally?” Nicky asks, “Be honest, you didn’t know I existed until recently.”

“I don't think I remember anything at all from before you walked in here.” Joe says. “Although I’m grateful for whatever I was doing if it led me to you.”

“You don’t have to say these things.” Nicky says, dropping his gaze to their hands. He’s blushing, very faintly across his nose and cheeks. Nile’s never seen that before either. Joe seems to like it because he lifts Nicky’s chin with his free hand, brushes Nicky’s cheek with his thumb.

Nile, for all that she tries to keep some distance, finds she wants them to kiss. She’s holding her breath, waiting for it.

Nile draws the flat of her knife down Andy’s body, between her breasts. It is cold against her skin, and Andy has to force herself not to tense up.

"You sure about this?"

There's less apprehension in Nile’s voice than Andy might have anticipated; only a chance to gracefully back down. A reminder that she's no longer immortal.

It's that reminder, that crushing vulnerability hanging over her head, that has Andy lifting her chin to meet Nile’s eyes. "Go ahead," she says, permission and a dare all at once.

Nile’s answering smile is quick, but full of implications. She lifts the knife and tosses her braids behind her bare shoulders, and Andy feels a frisson of arousal run through her.

Nile draws the knife across Andy’s left breast, leaving a thin line of blood behind it. The pain is minimal, but the cut remains. She stares at it, expecting it to heal before her eyes, just like every other injury she can remember.

Andy is so busy contemplating that first cut that Nile’s next cut, right across her ribs, catches her off-guard, and she hisses in surprise. Nile runs her fingers across the cut, smearing some blood across Andy’s skin. She tweaks Andy’s nipple with those fingers, leaving even more blood behind.

Nile holds the point of the knife at Andy’s collarbone. Andy stills. She trusts Nile completely— she has to, or this would never work— but if either of them moves too quickly, that knife could go through her throat. There would be no coming back.

It gives Andy a thrill she can't quite explain. Although her increasing arousal is all-too-easily explained.

Still holding the knife near Andy’s throat, Nile reaches down with her other hand and toyed with Andy’s clit. She slid two fingers inside of Andy, still playing with Andy’s clit the entire time.

The pain, the pleasure— it was almost too much stimulation, and Andy moaned in desperation. She needed— something. She needed more, or less, or—

Nile crooked her fingers just right, and brushed up against exactly the right spot inside of Andy.

Andy fell apart easily, collapsing, her head thrown back. When she next came to her senses, Nile was lying by her side, and the knife had been put away.

"Good?" Nile asked.

"Mmm," Andy hummed. "Very good."

Prompt here: https://theoldguardkinkmeme.dreamwidth.org/1106.html?thread=101458#cmt101458

My brain took the idea of Nicky waking up horny and, uh, went places with it.

***

Yusuf wakes slowly, as he typically does on peaceful mornings. It comes as no surprise that as he gradually becomes aware of things, Nicolo fills his senses: the warmth of Nico pressing against him, chest-to-chest although they’d fallen asleep back to front, the smell of his hair, and his sweet voice in Yusuf’s ear.

“Yusuf,” Nicolo is saying, a note of urgency in his voice. “Yusuf, are you awake?”

Still half-asleep, Yusuf tries to puzzle out the urgency. They can’t be in any kind of danger, or Nico would shake him into wakefulness with no hesitation. Yusuf’s not on top of him, so if Nico needed to get up for something he could do it easily enough. They’re not—

Nico shifts against him, and that’s when Yusuf wakes up to notice the cock pressing against his hip, hard and hot as a brand.

Without even opening his eyes, Yusuf lets a grin spread slowly across his face. He rolls onto his back and parts his thighs, and Nico slots himself between them with a sound that’s equal parts gratitude and desperation.

With one of them already frantic and the other barely awake, it’s not going to be anything but rubbing against each other. Yusuf isn’t even hard, though it won’t take long to get there with Nico rutting against him, whispering about how beautiful he is, how badly Nico wants him.

Yusuf gropes until he finds Nico’s arms, follows them up to his shoulders, his neck, aiming his mouth blindly in the direction of Nico’s face as he pulls him down. He alternates between lazy, sloppy kisses and gentle murmurs of come on, love, come on, I’ve got you. Nico thrusts against him a few more times and then arches his back with a sharp moan, and Yusuf opens his eyes for the first time to see his lover outlined in morning sunlight, head thrown back as he comes.

He collapses half on top of Yusuf and then rolls onto his back, chest heaving as he catches his breath. Yusuf turns on his side, sleepy and content. He’s fully hard now, cock bobbing against his stomach, but as his fingers skate along Nico’s warm skin there’s no urgency to it.

“Good morning,” Nico says, his cheeks pink.

“Morning,” Yusuf replies, tracing the edge of his thumbnail over a nipple. “What got you so excited so early?”

Nico hums little, pressing into the touch. “I was dreaming of you.”

Yusuf runs his hand down to palm Nico’s cock, giving it a few lazy strokes. “That much, I could have guessed.”

Nico does this sometimes, dreams of some remembered or imagined scenario and wakes up randy as a tomcat over it. For his own part, Yusuf has never had a dream so arousing he wouldn’t pick rolling over to snatch a little more sleep over immediate lovemaking, but he loves that Nico gets this way, loves that when he wakes up on fire like this it’s only ever from a dream of Yusuf.

Nico turns his head to rub his face against the mattress, a smile curling the corner of his lips. “It was about the first time I let you inside me. Do you remember?”

“Like it was yesterday,” Yusuf says, and lets go of Nico’s cock to reach down and back between his thighs.

Nico tenses a little at the first brush of fingers against his hole, then relaxes when Yusuf doesn’t press in, just rubs gently. He’s biting his lip, rocking his hips a little in time with the slow movement of Yusuf’s hand. Yusuf can tell both that he wants more, and that he won’t ask for it—he loves it when Yusuf plays with him like this, draws it out, reminds him in the most beautiful way that they have all the time in the world to love each other.

“Look at you,” Yusuf breathes. “Not five minutes since you came and you want more already. Really worked yourself into a state, didn’t you?”

Nico lets out a little whine of agreement, bearing down a little harder against Yusuf’s fingers. Yusuf teases between his legs a few moments more and then takes hold of his cock again, but his touch turns distracted as a thought occurs to him.

“You know, you don’t always have to wait for me to wake up.”

Nico shakes his head. “I don’t mind. Don't like to wake you if I don’t have to.”

“So don’t do that either,” Yusuf suggests with a brief one-shouldered shrug. “Just enjoy yourself. And then tell me about it when I’m awake.”

That brings Nico up short, and he pushes up on both elbows to look Yusuf square in the face. “You mean touching myself? Or…?”

Yusuf leans in and kisses the corner of Nico’s mouth, hand moving slow and steady over the hard length of him. “You know you can do anything you want to me, my heart.”

Nico’s face colors again, and Yusuf knows he’s remembering some of the more interesting things they’ve done together. For all his blushes, he’s never shy about taking what he knows is his—as long as Yusuf is awake to give it. “But...even while you sleep?”

Yusuf kisses his cheek, his jaw, the shell of his ear, then murmurs into it, “Nicolo. Do you really think I wouldn’t love waking up to your mouth on me?”

Nico’s breath catches in his throat.

“Or with your fingers inside me, opening me up for your cock?” Yusuf goes on, still stroking him at the same gentle pace. “I bet if I was deep asleep enough, you could get me hard with your hands and mouth and wake me up by riding me.”

“God,” Nico bites out, and then he’s in motion, one arm going around Yusuf’s back to press him close, the other knocking Yusuf’s hand away so Nico can wrap both their cocks in one hand, bringing them off together in quick, jerky strokes.

Yusuf kisses him slow and dirty while he rides out the wave of sheer bliss, then pulls back with a satisfied smile.

“Just think about it,” he says, nestling back down on the pillow with one arm beneath his head. “For next time.”

***

“Next time” doesn’t end up being for over a month. They don’t discuss the matter again, but Nicolo knows Yusuf hasn’t forgotten it any more than he has.

Part of him still shies away from the idea of touching Yusuf like that in his sleep, using his body while he’s not awake to say yes or no to anything. At the same time, he knows Yusuf wouldn’t have made the offer if it wasn’t sincere. Nico knows what he likes, knows his boundaries and that Yusuf trusts him to stay within them.

Then comes the night when he jolts awake painfully hard from a confused, vivid dream of Jerusalem. It had been their first meeting, but not. In reality, their frenzied attempts to kill each other for good had ended with Yusuf extending a hand and Nicolo taking it warily. In this dream, though, Yusuf had pinned him to the ground, held his wrists and kissed him hard, both of them still covered in blood and surrounded by death. Nico’s dream self had kissed him back, legs falling open, ready to let this beautiful enemy do what he would with him.

Nico gulps for breath, his whole body alive with need. He has no idea what time it is, but it’s still full dark outside, and Yusuf is deep asleep beside him, chest rising and falling steadily.

Nico hesitates for just a moment before rolling toward him, spurred on by the memory of Yusuf telling him you know you can do anything you want to me.

He presses a kiss to Yusuf’s slack mouth, and it’s as sweet as ever, but odd to kiss him like this and get no response. Nico dips his head to kiss his warm shoulder instead, and then his throat, the edges of Yusuf’s beard tickling his cheek as he does so.

Yusuf’s nipples stiffen under Nico’s touch as he teases them with his mouth and fingers, and Yusuf shifts in his sleep with a pleased sigh but doesn’t wake. Nico wonders what he’s dreaming about, if these light touches and kisses might be enough to make Yusuf, in turn, dream of Nico making love to him.

Nico moves on, trailing kisses down Yusuf’s body for the sheer pleasure of doing so, and then gently shoulders his legs apart to lie between them. His own arousal is unabated, and he lets himself rut against the bed a bit while he turns his focus to Yusuf’s cock—soft, but as Nico’s breath gusts across it there’s a twitch of interest.

He starts with little kisses and licks, moving up and down the shaft as it hardens under his ministrations. When Nico finally closes his mouth around the head, Yusuf’s hips lift in a shallow thrust. Nico glances up; Yusuf’s face is still peaceful, head lolling to one side, but his eyelashes are starting to flutter against his cheeks.

Nico pulls off and sticks two fingers in his mouth, their width a poor replacement for the way Yusuf’s cock stretches his lips. He swirls his tongue around until his fingers are thoroughly wet, then takes them from his mouth and reaches between Yusuf’s legs, probing the cleft of his ass until he finds the tight furl of his entrance.

He closes his mouth over Yusuf’s cock again and presses one finger into him at the same moment, and Yusuf jolts awake with a moan.

As absorbed as he is in his task, Nico’s also watching his lover’s reactions, listening, ready to draw back at the first sign Yusuf’s changed his mind about wanting this. When he instead gets another moan and a hand in his hair and a slow, lazy roll of Yusuf’s hips, he smiles around his mouthful and bends back to his task with renewed eagerness.

So often, when Nico wakes up consumed with desire like this, it’s his pleasure that ends up at the forefront, Yusuf’s an afterthought. Sweet, generous man that he is, Yusuf never complains—he knows Nico will never leave him unsatisfied. Tonight, though, Nico wants to do better than that. Tonight he wants Yusuf sated and blissful beneath him before he takes his own pleasure.

Yusuf’s talking to him now, voice still thick and hazy with sleep, words a tumble of so good and love you and Nico, Nico, please. He gets both hands in Nico’s hair, thrusting into his mouth in earnest now, and when Nico slips a second finger into him he comes with a shout.

Nico swallows him down greedily, not willing to give up a single drop. By the time he lifts his head, Yusuf is a twitching, shaking mess, moaning as Nico’s fingers continue their shallow movements inside him.

“Do you want me to fuck you?” Nico asks him. Even now, he feels he should ask, or maybe he just wants to hear Yusuf beg for his cock in that sleep-rough voice.

“Please,” Yusuf gasps, one hand still on Nico’s head, the other twisting in the bedding. “God, fuck, Nicolo, if you aren’t inside me in the next five seconds—“

Nico moves up to hush him with a kiss, one hand going to Yusuf’s leg to spread him further and the other fumbling for the bottle of oil on the bedside table. They’ve gotten by on spit and determination before, but right now Nico doesn’t trust himself to go slow and careful and doesn’t want even the slightest chance of hurting Yusuf. He’s shaking with need as he pours oil into his palm and fists his cock, then reaches down to guide himself to Yusuf’s hole.

He pushes in fast, snapping his hips forward, and Yusuf cries out and clutches at his waist. Nico doesn’t try to draw it out, just drives himself over and over into the perfect, silken heat of his lover’s body. He comes with a choked cry, tensing all over and then going limp as he spends himself inside Yusuf.

They lie in a sweaty heap afterward, Nico’s head on Yusuf’s chest while Yusuf strokes his hair and twines their fingers together. Nico feels sleep tugging at him, but staves it off to ask, “Good?”

Yusuf lifts their joined hands to his mouth, and Nico can feel a smile against his knuckles. “Very good. You’re going to have to tell me what the dream was this time.”

“I will,” Nico mumbles into his chest, already drifting off. “Later.”

FILL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25755106

https://archiveofourown.org/works/25761700

Threaded | Flat

Page 1 of 15

FILL: Holy Week (Nicky/Joe, Giving up sex for Lent)

Andy/Nile, Fisting

Wolfsbane: Andy/Nile, Urban fantasy fusion 1/?

FILL: Focus (Joe/Nicky, Body Worship)

FILL: peccatores peribunt (joe/nicky, self-flagellation)

Fill: Forgiveness is earned with tongues and cocks (Andy/Booker/Joe/Nicky/Nile)

FILL: Purity of Form (Joe/Nicky, circumcision)

FILL: Play Me Like a Love Song (Joe/Nicky, Nicky tops)

FILL: Joe/Nicky, cock-warming

FILL: Nicky/Joe, top! Nicky, size kink

Fill: Joe/Nicky, sword fighting in modern day

Fill: Joe/Nicky/Kozak - Experimenting for science (dub-con)

Fill: Joe/Nicky, shaving

A Clarification: Nicky/Joe, Joe worries he's boring Nicky

FILL: Banish the Thought (Joe/Nicky, Top Nicky, Size Kink)

FILL: Rhythm and Blues (Joe/Nicky, Coming Untouched)

FILL: Stratagem (Booker/Joe/Nicky, Nicky DP'd)

Fill: Nicky/Joe, Sexting

FILL: Live Like Legends (Team bathing together, no sex)

FILL: Basket of Figs (Booker Praise/Worship) - also contains feminization and polyam guards

FILL: Joe/Nicky, Porn AU 1/2

Fill: Andy/Nile, Edgeplay

Fill: Joe/Nicky, somnophilia

FILL: Cuddle (Team, Cuddle-Pile Orgy)

FILL: This One Indulgence (Joe/Nicky - long D/s session)