Fills Post

[theoldguardkinkmeme]

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Yusuf/Nicolo Forced Prostitution Fill : Needs of the Other 1/12

[dr_libra_phd]

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Note: I very much doubt my Wiki and Googling will be enough to fortify the history and details. I apologize in advance for the grievous errors I know will be found here. Nevertheless, I hope this fills the prompt.

I am writing this every day on my lunch break. Shhhhhh. ;)
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(Yusuf)

Cairo, 12th century

Damascus reaped better opportunities.

Yusuf exhaled, but kept his opinion to himself. The aftermath of the second Crusades threatened those areas, also rendering Aleppo a poor option. Their libraries, their vibrant way of life, the rich veins of trade withered under the shadow of another Crusades despite Damascus’s success. Something Nicolo was still determined to apologize for no matter how many times Yusuf told him not to. Cairo was a poor substitution for coin when everyone fled here. But at least the libraries were rich with knowledge; sadly not about their immortality. Not yet, at least.

“Do you need more paper?”

Nicolo stood by the doorway. There wasn’t much room with the scrolls and ink and stacks of vellum Yusuf laid out on the table that served as the place for meals and Yusuf’s current work: copying manuscripts and decorating the pages with gilded ink for a merchant set to sail to the eastern waters in a week.

Yusuf eyed the shrinking pile of vellum by a cup of mint tea Nicolo must have set down in the morning.

“Is it time already?” Yusuf said, trying to change the subject. He would not be paid until it’s complete, but the oil for the only lamp will only last two more nights. He was forced to start his work, sometimes missing his morning prayers to catch what light the little opening on the abandoned stone home afforded. This was once a home of a family felled by plague long before anyone can remember. Superstition kept the dwelling vacant. Fifty four years ago, Yusuf might have avoided this home as well. But that was before a pale-faced invader and him locked in an exhausting cycle of death and revival for months.

Nicolo nodded. “Morning has come and nearly past.”

“Ah,” Yusuf smiled wryly. “I let my breakfast gone cold.” He waved at his tea.

Nicolo was a quiet man, not given to much reaction more than a change in his eyes, but at this, he made a face.

“The docks pay very little,” Nicolo said by way of apology.

Yusuf scoffed. “Far more than what I do. Your coin last week was generous, far more than I expected. It bought the ink and paper I needed to offer my services.” It was a shame there wasn’t much left for food, but Nicolo insisted they didn’t need to buy much. The docks fed their workers. Recently, Nicolo took work at night too and was fed evening meals as well.

“I can get more paper...” Nicolo shifted in his feet. “And more ink?” He looked strangely uncertain, most likely tired from so many nights of work.

Yusuf ate dinner alone last week, waking in the middle of the night to find Nicolo curled up fetal, his back to him, on the opposite pallet. Yusuf wondered why it felt easier to fall back to sleep with his eyes on Nicolo’s broad back.

Yusuf frowned. “More night work?” At Nicolo’s small nod, he huffed.

“While I am glad for the coin, I find I do miss your company for evening meals.” Yusuf squinted at Nicolo.

“Don’t they feed you enough?” Yusuf thought Nicolo’s cheekbones seemed sharper lately.

“You’re remembering putting it in your mouth?” Yusuf joked.

Nicolo, as he struggled to learn Arabic, often forgets to eat the food he held in his hand, his ever inquisitive mind fixed on the pages and not on his stomach.

Something flashed across Nicolo’s features. His eyes, the color of stormy seas, seemed to dull as they slid away to consider the half empty breadbasket Yusuf set on the floor to make room. Next to it, a bowl tipped towards them with the last egg and wedge of hard cheese left.

“Nicolo?” Yusuf rose to his feet when Nicolo made a choking noise in his throat.

“I remember,” Nicolo mumbled. He seemed to shrink into the shabby cream tunic that hung looser around his shoulders these days. He smiled, a small quirk at the corners of his pink mouth, but it died quickly.

“If it pays well, maybe I go to market tomorrow,” Nicolo glanced over to the breadbasket and bowl. His jaw set.

“I will go to market tomorrow,” Nicolo said, his voice firmer.

Yusuf crossed over to the room. He set his hands on Nicolo’s shoulders.

“Nicolo,” Yusuf murmured. “You do so much.” He nodded, deciding. “I’ll go with you to help.”

Nicolo made an odd noise. Under Yusuf’s hands, a shiver went across Nicolo’s shoulders.

“What’s wrong?” Yusuf’s brow furrowed. Nicolo took a step back, but when Yusuf tried to follow, Nicolo held up an unsteady hand.

“No, that’s all right,” Nicolo stammered. His Arabic was stumbling, something he hasn’t done in decades. His accent still lilted and echoed thick of his home land, but Nicolo hasn’t struggled with words in years since Yusuf helped him improve it.

“You should finish the...” Nicolo visibly sought for the right word. “The stele?”

“Manuscript,” Yusuf correctly, mildly, yet Nicolo flushed like he once did when he used to mix up ‘goat’ with ‘fruit.’ Secretly, Yusuf admitted it charmed him how Nicolo could flush, his pale skin brushed with color, begging to be touched.

But right now, it was not charming. It was worrying.

“I can take a day,” Yusuf went on. He scanned their small room for his cloak. Ah, it hung over the shallow brick hearth. The concave pocket was only large enough for one pot, not that they could afford meat these days to cook, but it also served as a place for warmth. Nicolo must have filled it with sticks this morning. Cairo was cooler than expected when the sun crept up the horizon. Yusuf didn’t feel chilled this morning.

Another sort of warmth filled Yusuf’s chest. He smiled broadly at Nicolo.

“My eyes tire from squinting. Some physical labor would be welcomed.”

Nicolo’s eyes were the bleached color of a winter sea as they drifted to the table behind Yusuf.

“I’ll get oil for the lamp too.” Nicolo promised and he retreated another step.

“No, that’s not what I mean—“

“You do beautiful work, Yusuf.”

Yusuf stopped short of the quiet words. He blinked.

“T-thank you.” Now it was Yusuf’s turn to stammer like a child. He ran ink smudged fingers through his curls, twitching as his hand snared open a tangle. Ah, a bath is in order. He eyed Nicolo’s hair. Nicolo usually pulled it back with a strap of leather from Yusuf’s old armor. But last week, he stopped and Yusuf was often distracted by how it hung against the cut of Nicolo’s jaw. He liked how smooth Nicolo’s cheeks were. He was surprised when Nicolo cleaned his short beard off with a few expert swipes of his dagger. Yusuf felt his loins stirred, remembering those long fingers and their skill with a blade.

“You like this sort of work,” Nicolo went on, oblivious to Yusuf’s daze. “If it weren’t for war, you would have been an artist. Your talent is better suited for it.”

Yusuf shrugged. His cheeks felt hot at the compliment. He tugged at his beard, disguising his attempt to check if his face was truly as hot as it felt.

“Or a merchant,” Yusuf reminded Nicolo. “My family were traders. I could have been a merchant.”

“I like you better as an artist,” Nicolo blurted. He cleared his throat. “All I know is the church and the rough work of my hands.” He smirked sadly. “Blood and death is my art.”

“I hate every time you say this,” Yusuf murmured. He longed to approach Nicolo, but his friend lingered by the doorway, looking like a spooked horse. And part of him, the part that often kept him awake at nights when Nicolo hasn’t returned yet, that one day Nicolo would bolt and leave Yusuf behind in the sands.

“You have been in such a shadowed mood all week, my friend,” Yusuf exhaled.

“Tired,” Nicolo offered. His shoulders sagged.

“Tired.” Yusuf shook his head. “No more night work after tonight?”

“No more,” Nicolo promised.

Yusuf narrowed his eyes. “You are lying to me, yes?”

“Perhaps.” Nicolo’s smile was lighter.

Yusuf cast pleading eyes towards the heavens and prayed Allah for strength.

“Begone,” Yusuf waved his hands at Nicolo. “After tonight, no more. We have time and opportunity to earn coin elsewhere. The need is not dire yet. I have no need for paper.”

“Now who is lying?” Nicolo shot back, a glimmer of humor brightened his eyes.

“Shoo!” Yusuf said, laughing, “Leave me to my beautiful work and failing eyesight! Do not fall off the docks and return looking like a drowned cat. I will welcome you back only with mocking!”

Nicolo dropped his chin, his hair falling forward, but failing to cover the smirk. He turned, casting a strange sad smile to Yusuf and followed the pathway out to the town and the docks.

Yusuf wasn’t sure why he lingered by the doorway, long after Nicolo’s shadow faded from sight. He shook his head, chiding himself for laziness while poor Nicolo stayed out until the moon hung high in the night for a small sachet of coin.

Eyes back towards the work on the table, Yusuf resigned himself to it. If they were to gain funds to travel east to find the two women in their dreams, they’ll need coin and plenty of it.

Yusuf sat down, resolve returning. As he brushed a hand over the softness of a new page—he must ask Nicolo where he purchased the quality sheets at such a low price—Yusuf sent up a thought and prayer for Nicolo. He hoped his friend has a good day at work.

NEW PARTS START HERE: Needs of the Other (from 16C on)

[dr_libra_phd]

This is a blank post. No nekked husbands here. They’re sleeping. Shhh. LOL

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All new parts will be placed under this post. And yes, when it’s done, I’ll be cleaning it up and putting it on AO3.

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NEW LOCATION of FILL: Needs of the Other 16C/18

[dr_libra_phd]

Hope you guys found this post okay. I utterly screwed up and somehow deleted post 0. Yes, that's the real me when student and porn writer collide.

Me 0 RL 43654 Wah.

Anyway, today both parts is Yusuf. Because he has feels. And yes, thinking sequel.

No, still 18 parts. LOL.

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Part 16C
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(Yusuf)


Somewhere outside of Alexandria, 12th century




“I am certain that beast is out to kill me.”

Yusuf caught Nicolo rolling his eyes. He was torn from climbing over Nicolo’s prone body on their bed or continue his torture. He decided the latter would reap more rewards for the both of them.

The faint nutty scent of the oil rose as it dribbled slowly down Nicolo’s crack and pooled into a golden droplet on the thin skin under his cock.

“I am sure...” Nicolo said in as steady as a voice he could with Yusuf gently massaging the spot, smearing slick oil around the stretched skin that cradled his balls.

“It is f-flirting with y—Yusuf,” Nicolo hiccuped, back arching, his buttocks canting up in plea.

“Mm,” Yusuf opted to say instead, distracted by how Nicolo’s back flexed and his buttocks quivered as the oil made its slow descent down from the puckered entrance to the fold created by the sacs and his body.

“I thought—“ Nicolo suppressed what sounded like a squeak. How charming. “You were going to show me something you learned in—Yusuf!”

Yusuf bit back the smirk when Nicolo turned his head to glare at him past his shoulder.

“Sorry,” Yusuf said innocently. He pulled away oil-slicked fingers from where he was smoothing oil around the dark rim to Nicolo’s body. “You were saying?”

Nicolo raised his head and shoulders off his folded arms. He twitched as the position arched his lower back. His cheeks pressed the oil around his hole to go into places that made Yusuf flush all over.

“Oh, to envy that drop of oil,” Yusuf murmured. He lowered his head and dropped a kiss on Nicolo’s right cheek. It clenched on contact and when Yusuf nuzzled the dimples on top of the buttocks, rubbing his beard along the elegant curve of spine, Nicolo whined.

“Are...are you showing me,” Nicolo groaned, “Or preparing me to be tonight’s mea—“

Nicolo yelped when Yusuf’s tongue skimmed the top of his cleft and traveled up.

“You are delectable,” Yusuf rumbled as he brushed aside the hair. He laved Nicolo’s nape. He swung a leg over and straddled Nicolo’s legs.

“And I would enjoy eating you out again, hobi. Right now, I am famished.”

Yusuf set aside the small vial of olive oil on their table. He traded chores with the baker last week for more rosemary bread and was also gifted a bottle of olive oil. For dipping, the baker’s son explained. It was something he learned from his travels.

The bread was delicious. Yusuf felt something in his heart unravel when Nicolo ate the first piece and then stole the small bit left in Yusuf’s bowl.

The oil? Yusuf had thought back to his youth. He remembered a trader’s handsome young son, a shed no one ever used and oil the youth skimmed off a jar from his father’s wares.

Yusuf did not remember the young man’s face, but he remembered how the oil felt on his skin and how it made certain touches slip in easier and more tantalizing. They explored, fascinated what a man could do with another man with blunt fingers and dry lips.

“We broke fast before,” Nicolo breathlessly reminded Yusuf as he rocked back against Yusuf’s growing erection. Oil down his cheeks, Yusuf’s saliva slick on his back, Nicolo rutted up into Yusuf with a swaying motion that mimicked the gentle bob of his body in the water.

“Mm, but I am still hungry,” Yusuf murmured. He climbed up higher on Nicolo’s body, tasting and savoring the skin stretched along the broad shoulders and neck.

Nicolo exhaled shakily, his head lowering to offer his nape.

Yusuf rubbed his cock along Nicolo’s spine as he slipped an arm around Nicolo’s middle. He felt Nicolo’s stomach flexed under his arm, his back curving to guide Yusuf with a silent plea.

Yusuf hummed as his cock found Nicolo’s cheeks. He swayed along the snug space, his cock spreading the oil around Nicolo’s hole down the entire length of his crack.

Nicolo lifted his upper body up on his hands, his ass embracing Yusuf’s erection. The clutch around his cock thrummed hot into Yusuf’s belly. He found himself moving faster, his cock brushing over the entrance with bolder strokes.

The oil kept Nicolo unbelievably slick. It encouraged the two to glide against each other with increasing abandon.

“Yu...yu...” Nicolo panted. His buttocks clenched, stilling Yusuf’s cock as it brushed over his hole again.

Yusuf groaned. He dropped his heated face on Nicolo’s hair. He murmured into the strands as he felt Nicolo shifting to get on his knees.

“Keep your legs closed, hobi,” Yusuf whispered. He rubbed Nicolo’s stomach, lower and lower into the taut muscle stretched around the base of Nicolo’s cock. He remembered how Nicolo’s fingers dug into his groin, massaging and wringing out the strongest bolt of heat Yusuf ever experienced. He pressed his fingers there, ignoring the erection tapping Nicolo’s stomach.

Nicolo moaned, shuddering as he fought not to part his legs. He trembled, trying to keep his legs closed as Yusuf asked.

Yusuf kneaded the firm flesh there, a hot swell of satisfaction when Nicolo whined. Yusuf knead deeper, shushing Nicolo when he sobbed.

“Wait,” Yusuf murmured. “Do not go without me. Wait.”

“Yusuf,” Nicolo stammered. “What...”

Yusuf was careful not to put all his weight on Nicolo as he lined himself over the other's body. He guided his cock to Nicolo’s thighs. The oil streaked down to his inner thighs. Sweat beaded on his pale skin.

Yusuf hissed as his cock probed and slowly slipped in-between the narrow space Nicolo’s thighs created.

“Yusuf, what are—“ Nicolo stilled as Yusuf’s cock continued, brushed under his sacs and jutted out under Nicolo’s cock, between his legs.

Yusuf’s lips traced Nicolo’s nape. He pushed hair away, his other arm hugging Nicolo around his middle.

“Keep them closed,” Yusuf murmured, “Tighter, tigh—yes, like that...”

Yusuf started slow, his cock pushing through strong thighs until cool air teased his cock on the other side. The oil made everything smoother, but Nicolo’s strong grip around Yusuf’s cock made it better than he imagined.

Yusuf stroked carefully, making sure he teased the taint, gliding down to that sensitive skin before pushing through.

Nicolo was still, held close to Yusuf, holding himself up on his hands, kept stable on his knees by Yusuf’s wider stance bracketing his thighs.

The house was quiet save for the hushed exhales, the cut off “Oh, oh,” they both made. Their bodies lightly slapped together, wet sounds of slicked skin and limbs filling the air every time they glided into each other.

Yusuf’s cock was feeling the greatest pleasure and the greatest torment. The grip of Nicolo’s thighs squeezed beads of fluid out of his cock with each push. As the tip of his cock emerged, Nicolo’s own erection bounced over the tip. Yusuf’s arm around Nicolo was growing damp, gems of Nicolo's seed sprayed the hairs of his arm.

Nicolo’s breathing went harder as they continued, his body rocking back challenging each of Yusuf’s strokes. Nicolo’s buttocks flexed along with his thighs as if trying to capture Yusuf’s cock prisoner.

Oh, and how Yusuf would surrender if Nicolo asks. He would gladly hold out his hands for binds and tumble into Nicolo’s body. He would beg for Nicolo to sink and conquer Yusuf from within.

“Yes,” Yusuf rumbled as he rutted. “Yes, gladly.” He pulled Nicolo closer, the heat and writhe of Nicolo’s body igniting sparks of pleasure everywhere their bodies touched.

Nicolo’s elbows shook. Yusuf hugged Nicolo, almost lifting his hobi to his lap. He felt himself thrusting faster, his erection pushed to weep onto Nicolo’s front as it emerged out of the snug space.

Nicolo panted, marking each stroke with a huff of air. He sagged back against Yusuf, nearly collapsing into Yusuf’s lap. He clutched Yusuf’s arm around his middle. His other hand brushed over the head of Yusuf’s cock every time it slid out to poke out between his thighs.

Yusuf’s back ached keeping them both upright, thrusting between Nicolo’s legs while trying not to fall onto his back. Nicolo’s fingers kept teasing his cock, like a hunter trying to coax out his prey. Nicolo pressed and pinched what he could of Yusuf’s erection. It was a game; a glorious, back breaking quarry of pleasure. Nicolo kept trying to touch, Yusuf was torn from letting it happen and to continue pistoning.

The oil warmed on their skins. Yusuf was starting to tire. He was desperate to succumb to the billowing sensation on his lower back and splatter Nicolo’s front with his release. But Nicolo was not there yet.

Yusuf growled against Nicolo’s nape and pushed Nicolo back on his hands and knees. Yusuf thrust harder. His lower back started to burn with the strain. He searched, found Nicolo’s cock and took it as his.

Nicolo moaned, a low rolling sound that seemed to be pulled from his core. He panted as he eagerly thrust into Yusuf’s fist. He kept squeezing his legs, tighter and tighter, sending spots up Yusuf’s vision. It felt like his cock would burst.

“Yusuf,” Nicolo whimpered. He was a caught creature in Yusuf’s grasp, beating against a cage of his fingers, mewling to be released.

Nicolo was close now. Yusuf could feel Nicolo’s heart hammering into his own chest. Nicolo’s cock was hot, a hard length that threatened to break Yusuf’s grip.

They rutted, they choked around each other’s name and when Yusuf could not bear it any longer and came, Nicolo shouted as he gladly followed.

It felt like the world went silent around him until Yusuf realized his ears buzzed with the rush of blood. It felt like he was gorged, parts of him gutted. He was spent, yet Nicolo continued to weakly flex his thighs, milking Yusuf’s cock.

Below them, their releases made soft plopping sounds as their cocks wept over the bed. It would be a mess for later. Yusuf could not even find the strength to ease his cock out from Nicolo’s legs.

Nicolo quietly panted, on his hands and knees purely by stubbornness.

Yusuf kissed Nicolo between damp shoulders. He drowsily ground into the thin skin between Nicolo’s taint and the base of his cock.

Nicolo groaned. His head hung low.

“I think we need another bath,” Nicolo grumbled. He turned to look back at Yusuf. Perspiration has plastered his long locks into his brow.

Yusuf chuckled airlessly. He kissed Nicolo’s shoulders, one on each blade as he tried to walk on his knees and pull out.

“I would be more than happy to bathe with you but perhaps a nap first?”

“There were things I needed to do this afternoon,” Nicolo wheezed. “But I do not think I can even open my eyelids.”

“Mm,” Yusuf hummed as he sat down, gasping to recover. He glanced over to Nicolo. He froze.

Nicolo stood swaying on his hands and knees. His thighs were rubbed red, raw, but the color was already fading.

But it was the slouched back, the low hanging head that skewered Yusuf’s heart.


"You will watch him as we invade this Frank, pillage his body, ransack his flesh and soul until all that is left is only fit for fucking," Dirar snarled, Nicolo half-naked and huddled on the floor in defeat.

"I wonder why you did not have him, Yusuf." Dirar pulled out his finger. It wass tipped in blood. Nicolo's head was almost to the floor.

"He will tear beautifully."


Dirar’s words physically hurt Yusuf’s ears. But it was Nicolo, defeated on his hands and knees, his eyes dead as he stared at Badhl’s engorged cock, that hurt Yusuf more.

It turned out to be a ruse. Nicolo broke free, joined Yusuf to fight. But that brief moment, that awful dark moment, something had wailed inside Yusuf. Something was cut, bled and mourned not for itself but for the one they failed.

“Yusuf?”

Yusuf blinked and discovered Nicolo was in front of him, a hand holding back his own hair, blue gray eyes gazing back at Yusuf with open concern.

“You have exhausted me,” Yusuf lied. He brushed back a clammy strand behind Nicolo’s ear. “Do not ask me for my name. I can not remember it right now.”

Nicolo’s gaze flickered a cool blue, a mist of gray and green taking over as he studied Yusuf. He nodded slowly and surprised Yusuf by pulling Yusuf to his chest.

Yusuf groaned but did not pull away. He grumbled before he settled an ear over Nicolo’s heart as Nicolo so often seemed to favor. He tucked in, his shoulder under Nicolo, his hip pressed against Nicolo. Their legs stretched out, finding places for their ankles to tuck into each other.

He fits, Yusuf realized, as perfectly as Nicolo does against him.

“We were shaped for each other,” Yusuf murmured. He followed where Nicolo’s hands nudged, into the corner their bed made with the walls, away from the small window, away from the open doorway and thankfully, away from the wet spot.

Yusuf slipped an arm around Nicolo. Nicolo was slippery with sweat, with oil, with their releases. He also smelled vaguely of almonds, of the last sliver of soap they shared in the bath last night.

“You and I,” Nicolo whispered. He stroked Yusuf’s beard with a thumb. He wove his fingers with Yusuf’s other hand. Their clasped hands sat between their thighs pressed together. This close, Yusuf could not see a seam where Nicolo ends and Yusuf begins.

“You and I,” Yusuf repeated. He blinked furiously, trying to wipe the image of that Nicolo out of his mind. His heart thumped against his chest, howling for something Yusuf did not dare to heed.

Yusuf pulled their hands to his mouth.

“Hobi,” Yusuf breathed against their fingers. “My heart. My dearest heart.”

Nicolo rested his head against Yusuf, his heart beating serene and, Yusuf sincerely hoped, content.

--------------------------

More later! Yusuf has feels!

NEW LOCATION of FILL: Needs of the Other 16D/18

[dr_libra_phd]

Argh, you guys still with me? I'm hoping I led enough bread crumbs back to the new location. Again, very very sorry for the confusion!

———————————————-
Part 16D
———————————————-


(Yusuf)


Somewhere outside of Alexandria, 12th century





Yusuf shooed the chicken who tried to peck at his foot. It tottered under the table and decided Yusuf’s big toe peering out of his sandals was food.

“He already fed you,” Yusuf chided the brown and black speckled bird. He waved a hand, blinking when it squawked back before doing a little hop and waddle out of the house. It was rather indignant for a hen.

Another tried to totter in, shrieking when Yusuf shouted at it. It flapped away and left a few gray feathers fluttering to the doorway.

“A door is a definite must,” Yusuf muttered as he begrudgingly rose to his feet from the table to collect the feathers to be washed and dried later. Nicolo was bemused Yusuf wanted to make a new sleeping mattress stuffed with feathers. The villagers often traded a modest sack of the fluffy trinkets for a chore or two. Hopefully, Nicolo will have a small sack today.

Outside, the afternoon sun has kept the day warm and the dwelling comfortable. Nicolo has ventured into the village again, riding the horse without quarrel, much to Yusuf’s annoyance. The beast had tossed its head as Nicolo climbed on it after Yusuf’s many dire warnings about its temperament.

It is good, Yusuf thought, that Nicolo was comfortable going out to the village. It is good Yusuf’s chest did not seize when he turns around and not find Nicolo right there.

It was impractical, Yusuf reasoned, to always go to the village together. The horse tolerated Nicolo, it seemed to find snapping teeth towards Yusuf appealing. Many baskets tipped over this way. Yusuf heals, of course, but it was still irritating.

Nicolo left in the morning with fish they have dried and a few melons they could not eat themselves. Hopefully it was enough to barter for some wood. Enough for a door.

Nicolo woke up shouting last week. And then picked up the intruding hen off his head and tossed it towards Yusuf who was slow to wake. Nicolo wore him out the night before. Yusuf returned the favor that morning and repaid Nicolo for the rude clucking awakening that evening. Nicolo unintentionally exacted revenge. He slept through the rooster’s shrill crowing that next morning. Yusuf had to chase the wretched bird away from their door for once.

Yusuf scoffed as he continued with his task of pulling out their packs to determine what, if any, needed repair. The women they dreamed about now appeared to be in a colder climate. Their provisions needed to be adjusted.

Unless the women refused to accept Nicolo, then the packing is for naught.

The small smile on Yusuf’s face faded.

No, Yusuf thought fiercely, they would accept Nicolo. Of course they will, how would they not? They would have seen everything Nicolo had done and know the torment in each of his actions.

If it was anyone they would not accept, it should be Yusuf.

Yusuf breathed out as he examined the bottom of his sack, frowning at a stitch that was unraveling.

It would not matter, Yusuf told himself, if the women reject either one of them, they, in turn, would reject the women if they do. Who are they to judge their actions? Nicolo was his own harshest judge and Yusuf has judged and already determined his own crimes.

“Naïveté,” Yusuf condemned himself. He assumed the best and ignored the worse. He thought moving from city to city was a good life. He thought they would be happy wherever they settle next and free to indulge on things they could not afford to do in their early years. Youth flows into maturity and with it, the unwieldy weight of responsibility hung over their necks, bowing their backs.

Immortality meant embracing what they could not dare to in their youth, when they thought time was limited.

Yusuf welcomed the chance to coax beauty out of dull paper, tease ink into life and watch the fruits of his labor marveled by others. Nicolo, as if fearing the audacity of saying such things, had once whispered across a campfire that he would like to read everything out there, without fear of consequences.

So Yusuf steered them to each city, to visit every library it has to offer to also search for any knowledge about their conditions. He enjoyed how Nicolo flushed with disbelieving joy at how books were readily shared. Yusuf took guilty pleasure at teaching Nicolo what words he could that puzzled Nicolo. Nicolo always sought for Yusuf to translate even if it was a language they both did not know.

A small leather wrap unfurled, revealing the thin tools Nicolo traded with a carpenter after they left Trunsa. Too many years without a single gray hair or weary wrinkle had started to earn them looks from their neighbors.

Nicolo had mentioned he helped the monastery craft simple furniture, often traded or sold for funds. Yusuf was appalled at the thought of an undernourished child handling sharp tools for food, never rewarded for the craft itself. He expressed a wish to do more. However, Nicolo only bought the tools after Yusuf pestered him for days.

The tools were only used once, in a town a few weeks from Damascus. Nicolo carved little desert animals for children. Yusuf and Nicolo found their uncle’s dried up carcass in the sand, his coin still clutched in his hands. The poor soul died of thirst, not of bandits. They detoured to the town to return the man to family who would miss him.

While Yusuf helped the parents with matters children should not understand yet, Nicolo kept the young ones distracted.

Nicolo carved tiny desert rabbits, birds with giant wings and owls with large eyes out of the piece of wood they saved in case they needed kindling. But Yusuf did not mind. He was rewarded Nicolo's rare laugh as a child pointed out the owl’s beak looked like his nose.

When it was time to depart, Nicolo tossed over a piece with an embarrassed smile. It was a desert rabbit curled up in sleep. It was the size of a quail egg and had a crack that ran down its back because Nicolo cut too deep. The tail was broken off and one of the ears were longer than the other.

Yusuf kept the small imperfect rabbit in his pockets. He took it out every night to stroke its head and eventually, the surface of that spot gleamed like polished stone.

Yusuf could not retrieve it when they were forced to flee Damascus. As they wearily made camp and discussed wherever to go next, Yusuf remembered it was next to a block of driftwood someone sold him for a fair price.

The loss of the rabbit hurt more than the arrow that slowly pushed out of his back that night.

Nicolo has not touch the tools since. Nor did he ask for books when Yusuf went to the libraries in Cairo. Or asked they spend coin to purchase a new wrap for his sword's grip. He did not ask for anything. He worked, he toiled, he granted every wish Yusuf muttered unthinkingly for, he—

Yusuf scrubbed his face wearily. When he glanced over their bed, he saw Nicolo again, a pale defeated soul kneeling whipped before Dirar.

With a growl, Yusuf slapped his own cheeks. He needed to focus. He promised Nicolo he would check on the nets as well.

There were a few daggers buried at the bottom of Nicolo's sack. They were confiscated over bandits they encountered, spoils from jobs guarding caravans over the years.

Yusuf turned the blades in his hands, his throat working. Some had the gems picked out of the sleeves, valuable metals pried off hilts, leather salvaged for repairs. The blades were portable currency. Most were gone.

Eyes stinging, Yusuf studied the daggers. He did not realize they were this dire in funds. While he drew, painted and talked about all the techniques he envisioned for one scroll, silver dyes for a manuscript, Nicolo must have been harvesting the daggers for extra coin.

And when that ran out...

Yusuf set the daggers aside to be sharpened. He roughly scrubbed his eyes with a fist.

There was also a tightly bound bundle in Nicolo’s sack. Yusuf frowned when he heft it in his hands. It was tied with three thick straps and a roll as thick as his arm.

When Yusuf loosened the ties, the burlap unfurled.

“Oh hobi,” Yusuf choked out as he gazed down at a short stack of papyrus.

The paper was dusty, curled into pale golden tubes of semi-translucent paper. They were tied too tight within the bundle. Yusuf would have to soak each sheet in the stream and dry them flat before they can be used.

Yusuf rubbed a corner between two fingers. It was quality paper from a box Nicolo purchased in Cairo. It was the day they went to the market together. The day Yusuf saw Dirar slip a sliver of apricot between Nicolo’s lips.

The stack of paper shivered when Yusuf’s fist thumped the table. He exhaled slowly.

The paper made a hushed sound as Yusuf thumbed through the sheets. Part of him wanted to burn them all in a merry fire, but he could not bring himself to so callously lay waste to what Nicolo suffered to get.

As Yusuf counted each sheet, his chest squeezed. More and more until he was gasping, his breath ragged when he found a scroll carefully covered between two pieces of Nicolo's tunic. Yusuf remembered it was torn beyond repair and assumed it was made into rags.

Nicolo had cut two pieces in the exact size of the scroll and tucked the scroll between the layers. It was preserved surprisingly well, the scroll work still crisp and vivid.

It was the tale of the boy and the falcon that Yusuf started to draw while Nicolo slept. Nicolo curled against his hip and had watched Yusuf craft a tale. He never completed it.


"Does this story have a joyous ending?"

"It will."


And suddenly Yusuf found himself weeping, the torn shirt pressed into his mouth. He pushed the scroll and the papers away. He heard the constellation scroll fall, the beautiful pen Nicolo was determined to get, rolling to Yusuf's feet.

Fat tear drops splattered the table. He felt his sorrow hot and bitter wetting his beard. Nicolo's torn shirt, carefully trimmed and pressed, was now damp.

But Yusuf could not stop. Silent grief and sorrow welled up the more he stared at the incomplete scroll, the art he filled, the promise left empty at the bottom.

Quiet footsteps heralded the slip of Nicolo's thin arms from behind. Nicolo stooped over, his mouth pressed to Yusuf's curls, his arms over Yusuf's shoulders and wrapped around his neck like a warm scarf.

Nicolo did not speak. He did not shush Yusuf. He simply stood there, hunched over Yusuf, offering oasis, offering Yusuf the option to cry.

So Yusuf did.

He sniffled, wept, quiet choked off noises within the haven of Nicolo's embrace. Nicolo's breathing was slow, calm, accepting as Yusuf yielded to his sorrow and wetly raged about his guilt.

The tears eventually dried. Yusuf felt his eyes were scrubbed with boiling sand, his throat clogged up with smoke. His face felt too hot.

Nicolo made to kneel on the floor by Yusuf to speak.

"No," Yusuf croaked. "Not that."

Nicolo's eyes widened lightly. He nodded and surprised Yusuf once again by straddling Yusuf's lap.

Yusuf exhaled. He buried his damp eyes into the crook of Nicolo's left shoulder.

"Hello," Nicolo murmured. He carded hands into Yusuf's hair.

"I had promised you a joyous ending," Yusuf mumbled into the smooth skin of Nicolo's neck.

Nicolo seemed to understand what Yusuf referred to. "I have learned happy endings must be written together."

Yusuf snorted. "And you say I have pretty words."

Nicolo kissed Yusuf's hair.

"I have two sacks of feathers," Nicolo murmured. "For your strange idea."

Yusuf chuckled, thick with unshed tears. "You will not mock after you have slept on it."

"Will I wake up hungry for eggs?" Nicolo mused out loud. "Or will I find another hen trying to make nest in my hair?"

Yusuf choked. He hugged Nicolo to him.

"Hobi," Yusuf whispered. "No more broken promises. I swear."

"You have never broken a promise to me that truly mattered," Nicolo returned easily, in that deep yet soft tone that said he truly believed it as a fact.

"And I never will," Yusuf murmured. "I will not forsake you. I will not leave you. And I will weep no more. It will blind me to your presence and that is a fate I can not bear."

Nicolo wrapped his arms around Yusuf tightly.

"The same," Nicolo whispered. "The same."

Yusuf breathed deep the sweat and faint almonds on Nicolo's neck.

"Let us find this joyous ending together," Nicolo murmured.

Yusuf simply nodded and held on. Until...

"...My heart. My Nicolo, I have a question."

"Anything," Nicolo murmured as he rolled his shoulders to curl closer.

"...Why is the horse in the house?"

At the doorway, halfway inside, the horse neighed.

-------------------------------
Hee. Might be a smaller part tomorrow, but yes, Nicolo's turn as we nudge aside the soft for some action! (I hope, lol)

NEW LOCATION of FILL: Needs of the Other 16E/18

[dr_libra_phd]

Sorry for the late (again). School and work decided to want me both present yesterday, despite classes were supposedly canceled. Sigh.

———————————————-
Part 16E
———————————————-


(Nicolo)


Somewhere outside of Alexandria, 12th century





“Thank you,” Nicolo said, taking care of his pronunciation of his Greek. The metal smith’s dialect was one Nicolo has never encountered, a fast hurried flurry of syllables he decipher more by the smith’s hand gestures than words. He inwardly grimaced when he caught himself looking up, only to remember Yusuf was haggling with the spice trader about their fish on the other side of the village.

Nicolo was worried Yusuf was going to charge through the small area of stands looking for Nicolo soon. He had hesitated when Nicolo said he was going to ask about work, but then Yusuf nodded curtly, visibly resisting the urge to follow.

Nicolo smiled faintly as the metal smith showed him a crude sketch. Yusuf could draw a better one. Nicolo’s shaky penmanship of the symbols he once spied were not much better than the smith’s. Regardless, it was close to what Nicolo wanted so he nodded, trying to use his hands to empathize the shapes.

Satisfied he got the message across, Nicolo dutifully counted out the coins they agreed upon and arranged when Nicolo would return to help rebuild the back section of the smith’s roof. The barter would cover the rest of the cost. Nicolo’s mind spun as he realized that and the other agreement needed to be planned carefully.

Nicolo then met the baker Kahima at the mill to help with more sacks of flour. He carried two sacks on his shoulder and a bag of the processed chaff clenched in his fist for their horse. He felt pleased he was not as tired as before.

As the baker chatted by his ear about the rising costs of milling and the rumors of attacks at nearby towns, Nicolo found himself searching the village for Yusuf.

They still have not talked about it.

That day, Nicolo had returned from the village to find three of their hens lingering at the door, chirping and feebly flapping their wings. When he gently waved them away, he discovered why the birds were drawn to the door.

It has been two weeks. While Yusuf has not shed another tear, he was also reluctant to convey anything less than joy in front of Nicolo. He still delighted himself with Nicolo’s body as Nicolo with his in return. He still held Nicolo to him at nights. He still entertained Nicolo with fantastical ideas like feathers in a mattress for their bed.

But Nicolo sometimes caught Yusuf frowning at the stack of paper Nicolo gathered up and bundled. Nicolo left them on the table, but all Yusuf ever did was move them aside to make room for their meals.

To Nicolo’s surprise, Yusuf was already waiting by the baker’s home, shaking his head at the baker’s son Izem as the young man drew something in the dirt with a wooden stick.

“...no,” Yusuf said tersely. When he spotted Nicolo, his voice lightened. He lifted a hand in greeting, his smile wider as Nicolo approached.

“Do you see that curve there? It needs to be turned the other way or the word will not make sense.”

Nicolo bit back a smile as Izem tried, failed and Yusuf grimaced.

“He learns faster than me,” Nicolo commented as he passed by the pair. He flushed when the baker’s son stared too long at Nicolo, eyes tracking Nicolo as he followed the baker into the house. Yusuf cleared his throat, Izem stammered apologies and Nicolo fought not to look like he was fleeing into the house.

Nicolo helped Kahima grind the spices for meal, turning the pestle into the mortar like she once showed him. He listened as the baker chatted—she has not stopped talking since he met her outside the gristmill. Apparently, he has missed much in the weeks they were not here.

The ragged edge of a curtain lifted each time a breeze went by and Nicolo caught a glimpse of Yusuf standing over Izem, trying patiently to explain each Arabic letter. Yusuf glanced up, catching Nicolo looking and grinned back.

Nicolo ducked his head, but he sensed Yusuf was still grinning and he could not help but smile to himself.

Seeds rattled as Nicolo rotated the pestle, nodding to what Kahima said they were.

A familiar scent rose as the mortar turned the spices a nutty brown and yellow. Bitter, yet sweet, oily and...

Nicolo's throat worked. He clenched his jaw as he continued to press cardamom and turmeric into the well, into a paste and no, he was not ill, he will not vomit...

A large hand closed over Nicolo's around the pestle. An elbow gently prodded him aside.

"We could hear you destroying your back teeth from outside," Yusuf murmured in Arabic as he slipped around Nicolo to take over. Yusuf sat down on the spare stool by Nicolo.

"I need a repast from teaching Izem. If he misspells one more word, I fear I might do something impolite."

"I can do it," Nicolo said, more sharper than Yusuf deserved. Yusuf looked up, brown eyes narrowing then easing.

"Of course you can," Yusuf said easily. "But why should you when I am desperate for an excuse to be elsewhere?"

A hand touched Nicolo's lower back. It was a brief gesture, one Nicolo almost missed. But he felt it and spotted the strain in Yusuf's smile.

Nicolo's shoulders slumped. He nodded, muttering he'll help Izem instead. When Yusuf made a face, Nicolo scowled.

"Do not undo my work," Yusuf warned as Nicolo explained to the curious baker they were switching places.

Nicolo considered Yusuf settling closer by the pillar, the stone white pestle firmly in his grip. He stooped by Yusuf's ear.

"Would you prefer," Nicolo murmured low enough only for Yusuf to hear, "That I have you undone instead?"

The pestle clunk into the mortar bowl.

Nicolo gestured and apologized as Kahima squawked in Greek at Yusuf's clumsiness. He left Yusuf to stammer more apologies as he stepped outside.




Nicolo almost forgot about their first encounter when he walked up to observe what Izem was writing in the dirt. As he went to the area he last seen the youth, Nicolo remembered and his face went hot.

From Izem's reaction when Nicolo came to the house, the youth still has an eye on Nicolo. He wondered why he should say, if anything at all.

When Nicolo went to the front, though, his steps slowed.

Izem was nowhere in sight.

Nicolo frowned. He studied the dirt where the son was scribbling the Arabic alphabet. Yusuf was correct: Izem misspelled all the words.

There was a few smudges in the dirt, dusty from drying under the afternoon sun. But there were a few visible footsteps and only one was Yusuf's boot marks with the cut under his heels so they could identify each other's tracks. They had agreed they needed to mark their prints in case they were separated again. Yusuf's was two parallel lines in a slant. Nicolo's was three slanted in the opposite direction.

There were two other sets besides the slightly smaller set which he assumed was the baker's son. Izem was younger than Nicolo was before his first death. Ship life and little food kept him small and narrow footed.

Nicolo did not know the other two marks.

Glancing over his shoulder, Nicolo spied Yusuf talking with the baker, apparently forgiven for his previous ineptitude. Yusuf did not peer through the curtain at Nicolo.

Nicolo considered Yusuf. He glanced back at the footsteps in the dirt. He absentmindedly patted the dagger belted against his hip.

It would have to do.





A village this size, there were not many places two men could take a young man without being noticed. Even though Izem was slight, he was almost as tall as Nicolo and with thick forearms from his years of sailing.

Nicolo spied a few villagers make haste walking away in one direction, their eyes averted.

So Nicolo went in the opposite direction, towards where everyone avoided.

The grunts and a young voice pleading reached Nicolo's ears. He found himself in the back of the gristmill and its creaking windmill tower that moved the milling wheels.

The building acted as the border of the village and was the tallest structure. The gristmill dominated all trade. No one could process grain anywhere else. And no one can do so without a cost. The miller declared himself head of the village. No one dared to disagree. Most times, the miller was a fair leader.

Nicolo spotted a man as tall as Yusef, hair in thick black knots that went down to his broad, thick shoulders. Izem called him Hedi. Izem sounded scared.

"...things you do for lonely merchants at sea," Hedi chuckled as his friend pushed Izem to his knees. "Do well and your debt to me will be gone."

Nicolo was not sure if it was the resigned look on Izem's face, the leer on the men's or the sound Izem's knees made as they dropped to the ground. But he pulled out the dagger, the sound of metal slipping out ringing out in the air and charged.

Someone shouted. Someone plead mercy. Someone cried.

When Nicolo felt a hand on his right wrist, the haze lifted. He found himself exhausted, trembling and gaping at the two dead men on the ground and Izem's terrified eyes.

"It is done." Yusuf was firm and quiet by Nicolo's ear. "Hobi, it is done. They are dead."

"Oh," Nicolo stared numbly at the dagger in his grip. It dripped with blood. His hand was covered in blood. He tasted blood.

"Izem," Yusuf told the boy, "Do you know these men?"

"He called one of them Hedi," Nicolo muttered before Izem could babble a lie.

"I d-do not know them. Only Hedi. He was the captain of my last ship. They were attacking ships and towns! I did not want to be part of it anymore! He...he said I owed him money because I would not stay! I escaped his ship in Tunisia and fled to home--"

"Izem," Yusuf snapped, whatever patience he bore before was now gone. "No one knows for certain who was here. Go around the back of the mill to your mother before you are discovered and of murder."

"He did not kill them," Nicolo said numbly. "I did."

"You tried," Yusuf corrected. "I finished them." He lifted the scimitar that was in his other hand. He wiped the blood on Hedi's torn tunic. Izem was heard gagging as he scrambled for home.

Nicolo stared at the other man who had unfortunately allied himself with Hedi.

"He is not of this village as well."

Yusuf looked at Nicolo sharply. "Are you sure?"

Nicolo nodded his heavy head. "I have never seen him in all the times we were here. Look, his dress is different as well."

Yusuf lifted the stranger's hand with the tip of his scimitar to study the sword he held.

"I have not seen a sword like this before either." Yusuf scowled. He glanced around their surroundings. "We need to bury him. Both of them before they are discovered."

Nicolo nodded. It took him two tries to slip the dagger into its sheath. By the time he was done, Yusuf has already digging.

---------------------------
More tomorrow as Yusuf has his say and yet, Nicolo's promise to "undo" Yusuf will happen! Hee.

Note: the names Kahima and Izem in this part are N. African where they are in vicinity of, however, Greek at this time period was still the common tongue as the world change rules, empires and all the nasty stuff wars incur.

Sadly, I should have have these names chapters before. I wrote them down in my class notes.

...and promptly forgot until now.

Your writer is a dummy. Doh.

NEW LOCATION of FILL: Needs of the Other 16F/18

[dr_libra_phd]

I’m this close to quitting school or work. Yuck. No, no, I won’t, but yeah, I was hoping I wouldn’t be stuck with late night shifts all the way until December!

———————————————-
Part 16F
———————————————-

(Yusuf)

Somewhere outside of Alexandria, 12th century




He should not have said it, but by the time he realized it, it was too late.

“You forbid it?” Nicolo repeated flatly, stopping in his tracks.

Yusuf grimaced. Even the horse stopped next to Nicolo and turned its long head back to glare at Yusuf.

The miller had sought out Nicolo and Yusuf when they returned to the baker’s house to check on them. Yusuf did not like how the miller wanted to talk to Nicolo without Yusuf, his head filled with Izem’s account of Nicolo’s fighting. And he liked it even less when Nicolo, on their way walking back to the house, shared what the miller said.

But perhaps he should have held his tongue when Nicolo said he considered helping to protect the village.

“What I meant...” Yusuf began. He glowered at the mangy beast when it snorted.

Nicolo studied Yusuf and his ire faded. He set down the basket he carried. The baker was entirely too grateful and made them too much bread and meal. Nicolo insisted the horse was already carrying too much and declared he was going to carry this himself. No wonder the lazy beast stared after Nicolo with adoration.

“He said he fears Hedi had set his eyes on the village,” Nicolo said. “Izem confirmed it is what Hedi did before they ransacked the towns. They made the people put their own possessions onto carts to be taken away and then they’re given to his men as...” He sharply turned away, his eyes on the village they left behind.

“I know the miller is concerned,” Yusuf tried. “But both Hedi and his companion are dead.”

“His men will come looking.”

Yusuf’s stomach clenched in agreement. His heart, however, hammered at the memory of Nicolo and his dagger, the spray of blood on his face, his back turned as he checked on Izem rather than the two men. They could have killed Nicolo.

Worse, they could have taken him.

“I do not think so,” Yusuf lied. “We found their horses and set them off to run free. Should his men find them, they would not know where their captain has been.”

“Unless Hedi told his men before he left,” Nicolo argued.

“We do not know he did,” Yusuf returned.

Nicolo stared at Yusuf. “You think we should not help them?”

“I...” Yusuf folded his arms in front of him. He dropped his chin. He sighed.

“We do not know if they need help. This is a small village, a stopping point for those returning from sea and Alexandria has no work for ships yet. There are but few markets selling only what they themselves can not eat. This place does not even have a name! There is nothing here except for peace and tranquillity.”

“Is that not valuable?” Nicolo asked quietly. “Was it not why we chose to stay close to it?”

Yusuf closed his eyes.

“Hobi,” Yusuf breathed, “are you not tired?”

Nicolo could be heard swallowing.

“If you asked me last month, I would have said yes.”

Yusuf’s mouth twisted. “And your answer today would be no?”

“It would still be yes.” Nicolo locked gazes with Yusuf’s surprised eyes, “But it is a weariness of something else.”

Yusuf’s shoulders slumped.

“You are tired of hiding.”

“Then you were aware that was what we were doing.” Nicolo stepped closer to Yusuf. He slipped hands around Yusuf’s elbows.

“I eventually realized I was hiding,” Nicolo murmured. His smile was crooked, humorless. “And that you let me.”

“You needed to rest,” Yusuf said gently. “Do not deny your nights and your heart is far lighter for it.”

Nicolo breathed out slowly. He rested his forehead on Yusuf’s shoulder, his hands on top of Yusuf’s folded arms.

“I will admit,” Nicolo murmured, “the peace I felt since Cairo was welcomed and the stop here to just “be” was what you and I needed.”

Yusuf rested his chin against the side of Nicolo’s head.

“I did not need much rest,” Yusuf said.

Nicolo scoffed. “Then why do you not draw again?”

Yusuf’s lips pressed together. “I will.”

“When? Tomorrow? Next week?”

Yusuf forced out a chuckle. “So impatient, my Nicolo. Did you have a subject in mind?”

Nicolo stepped back, his mouth grim, his jaw clenched. He would not be deterred. A stubborn streak Yusuf was glad to see again, if only it was not at his expense right now.

“You say you would no longer be grieving for me. You say you understand you have no debt with me. Yet your scrolls fade with dust, your pen crusted with old ink, your papers blank of—“

“How I feel is not the same as what I do.” Yusuf tamped down the urge to shout. “I simply do not have the desire to draw right now.”

Nicolo’s expression was carefully blank. “That is all?”

“Of course.” Yusuf patted Nicolo’s shoulders and strode past.

The path back to their house never felt as long as it did now. Yusuf felt Nicolo staring after him, his walk steady despite Yusuf’s insistence to get home before it was dark.

Yusuf’s jaw worked. He stopped in his tracks, too suddenly. Nicolo almost collided into him.

“Why did you attack those men?” Yusuf asked the question that sat in his belly since they left.

“Izem—“

“I know what they were going to do,” Yusuf interrupted. “But why did you attack them alone? And with a dagger?”

Nicolo’s boots scraped the sandy ground underneath him.

“It was all I have with me.”

Yusuf grunted.

“What?”

“You would not need my aid had you taken your sword with you.” Yusuf did not turn around. “But you have not taken your sword or practice with it since we came here.”

Nicolo said nothing.

Yusuf chuckled sadly. “Maybe you need more rest after all?”

“It is not that I do not have a desire to take my sword,” Nicolo said. “But I know what my sword means to others when I have it by my side.”

Yusuf’s brow knitted.

“Fucking Frank,” Nicolo whispered. It was almost lost to the wind.

Yusuf froze.

“It is what they said over and over as they choked me with their cocks.”

“Nicolo,” Yusuf rasped.

“My sword is the weapon of so much destruction, so much waste.” Nicolo sighed. “It is the sharp tool of invasion. Do you not agree, Yusuf al-Kaysani?”

Yusuf’s throat worked. He slowly turned around to face Nicolo. Nicolo gazed back with resigned eyes the color of winter.

“I can conceal my face, do not let them see my eyes, do not speak and I can be among you without notice.”

Nicolo rested a hand on top of the dagger by his hip.

“But if I carry the sword that cut through so many men in front of Antioch, Damascus, Aleppo...”

Nicolo’s hand lowered from his dagger.

“You shared the burden of war,” Yusuf said quietly, “But you did not bore the responsibility.”

Nicolo smiled faintly. “Yes, I know as you have told me before. Our long lives have not yet made my mind feeble.”

“Then why—“

“It is what they see.” Nicolo stared past Yusuf’s right shoulder. “In Cairo, that was all Dirar saw. The others saw a Frank bowed to his knees. Their treatment was...”

“Do not tell me you forgive them,” Yusuf seethed. “There is only so much understanding and kindness they deserve.”

Nicolo shook his head. “No, of course not, I know now I did not deserve how they...but I understand why they were pushed to it.”

Nicolo’s hand drifted back to his hip, only he did not touch the dagger, but let his hand hover above it.

“You think you invited their sadistic treatment because of your sword?” Yusuf’s throat worked.

Nicolo shrugged his shoulders. “Do you see the villagers treat us with fear and trepidation far more than a stranger would? These people have treated us with kindness once they have gotten over their wariness towards us. Do you think it would be the same were I to arrive in the village with my sword?”

Yusuf grimaced. “There is not much you and I can do if Hedi’s men come looking.”

“We have fought off bandits from caravans,” Nicolo reminded him.

“For coin,” Yusuf pointed out. “And with our swords, fighting as one. Do you see your dagger and my scimitar faring the same?”

“We have faced worst. We have died for less.”

“Yes,” Yusuf grated out. “And you and I have come back, but what if when we do, this time, we are separated? What if they take you?” From me, Yusuf was afraid to say.

But Nicolo seemed to have heard him anyway. He swallowed.

“I know it may be the right thing to do,” Yusuf said softly. “But I do not know if my heart can bear it if I come back from death and not see you besides me.”

“It is why you do not draw anymore.”

Yusuf blinked. “What?”

Nicolo’s lips twitched but they did not smile.

“You blame your drawing, your work for what happened to me. That I was out of your sight.” Nicolo shook his head. “That is—“

“How often have you come back with something I have mentioned in passing?” Yusuf said. When Nicolo stilled, he sighed.

“It was eight if you can not recall.” Yusuf’s jaw clenched. “And I did not suspect a thing. I looked up, my eyes at last opened and you were about to...”

Yusuf struck a fist against his own leg.

“This is not supposition, Nicolo,” Yusuf growled. “It is fact. My head down among the pages and I did not see where my thoughtless wishes had led you. Your sword? Your fears are unfounded.”

“Yu—“

Yusuf shook his head hard. He was almost dizzy after.

“I know you want to help them, hobi and I will admit, I have some concern for the village, but to walk into a possible lion’s den and await slaughter and sure death? No, I can not—no, I am sorry, I—“

“You forbid it?” Nicolo finished thinly.

Yusuf blanched. “That is not what I was going to say. I do not own you.”

“Yet you fear losing me.” Nicolo exhaled slowly. His anger seeped away.

“Can we go home?” Yusuf plead. He did not care how he sounded right now. “Please, let us not quarrel here on the dirt road. We talk at home, yea? Under the roof we built together, eating over the table we built together.”

“Home,” Nicolo murmured. He glanced sideways at Yusuf. His shoulders slumped again. He nodded.

“Fine,” Nicolo rasped. “Let us go home.”

Yusuf smiled wanly. He watched Nicolo struggle to lift the heavy basket once more. He wanted to offer to take it as well. His stack of wooden planks was not heavy. But he did not dare offer.

As they walked, for once in a line and not shoulder to shoulder, Yusuf realized with a sinking stomach that he may not be able to keep his Nicolo safe. Nicolo will not let him.
————————

While it was not an outright fight, I found this very hard to write, but sadly, it was long overdue for both of them.

Chapter 17A, Nicolo tomorrow!

SUNDAY : next part of Needs of the Other

[dr_libra_phd]

I’ll be posting 17A Sunday. Just wanted to let you guys know as the entire world around me is going nuts and I want to cheer with them. But I will be back Sunday. For sure!

NEW HERE: Needs of the Other 17A/20

[dr_libra_phd]

...not one word. (headdesk)

Partied too hard yesterday--well, as hard as one can behind the plexiglass in the labs, but our manager bought us lunch in celebration. Free bagels! And me trying to cut carbs in keto. Wah.

Nevertheless, all that hard bagel and cream cheese eating and soda pop drinking (lol) got me thinking. I have been amiss with sword!porn for you guys. Forgive me. Here are BAMFs with sharp things as foreplay to sex! Hee.


———————————————-
Part 17A
———————————————-

(Nicolo)

Somewhere outside of Alexandria, 12th century




He did not remember the sword being this heavy.

Nicolo grasped the hilt. He jerked his hand back as if burned. His chest shrank around his breath the moment he touched the sword. He...

Nicolo turned away. He stared out the doorway, towards the direction Yusuf went to check on the traps and the nets. Nicolo could not see him from here, but he could see the sky was still blue and clear. It was not time yet for the sky to bleed reds and yellows to welcome the sun and release the moon.

The sword was in one of the tall jars they found cracked with disuse when they discovered the abandoned house. It was once meant for oil to preserve fish, but the cracks in the bottom promised no oil would stay within for too long.

Yusuf kept his scimitar with Nicolo's longsword inside the jar unless he was going into the village. And while Nicolo ignored his sword in the vessel, there was comfort seeing their swords together in the container, set by the foot of their bed.

His sword was alone in the pottery right now. Yusuf only removed his scimitar strapped over his shoulders and left it on the table. When they arrived home, Yusuf mumbled he needed to check on their traps. He hesitantly offered to check Nicolo’s nets as well.

It was petty, but Nicolo simply took the reins and led the horse to its stable. He heard Yusuf sigh, but he refused to turn around. Nicolo sensed Yusuf watching as he removed the harness and the bundles on its tethered baskets. He walked by Yusuf, silent as he set the cheeses and stew meat on the table. He walked back out with the sack of chaff and feed to their horse and hens.

As much as he felt twisted up and frustrated. Nicolo could not help brushing his knuckles over Yusuf’s left hip as he passed. Still silent, but Nicolo knew Yusuf would understand his touch. Nicolo would not be angry with Yusuf forever. And the downcast look Yusuf fought so hard to suppress hurt to see and demanded not to be ignored.

Yusuf’s hand brushed over Nicolo’s elbow. He rasped he was going to the stream. He will be back.

Nicolo nodded. He heard the plea underneath that Nicolo be here when he returns.

Nicolo watched Yusuf set down his sword on the table, retrieved a basket to collect anything they caught and left. And he knew Yusuf would return. Regardless, it still ached to see Yusuf's back going farther away from him. He almost called him back. He almost ran up to join him. Instead, Nicolo jerkily twisted around to go back into the house after Yusuf was too far away to see.

Yusuf’s sword felt light in Nicolo’s hand when he picked it up. It was a deadly weapon, lighter yet dealt with much heavier damage Nicolo would have expected. It spoke of the man’s strength and agility required to yield such a sword. Even in the heat of battle, Yusuf had seemed to dance through each strike and blow.

Nicolo pulled off the still bloodied dagger hanging off his right hip. He set it next to Yusuf’s scimitar. He pressed his lips together as he compared the two. He sighed and sat down on the edge of the pallet.

Yusuf was correct, of course. How can Yusuf trust Nicolo against his back with a simple dagger?

Nicolo took a deep breath and stood. He stared at his sword, given to him after training when he stepped down from priesthood and chose a path he thought would bring him closer to God.

The sword was cool in his right hand. He held it point down. It felt like it dragged him to the ground to kneel.

Nicolo recalled how it sang through the air, metal slicing across before contacting flesh and bone. It did not feel as heavy once he started fighting with it. Then, fight fed his bones and sent his blood coursing throughout his limbs. He fought because it was what he trained for, what his heart had believed until he died. First. Second. A curved blade through his heart did not break it.

Watching what he thought was his comrades who shared the same purpose burn and raped everything into the ground crumbled his heart. Watching war frenzied men ignore their faith and morals for flesh, blood and riches broke his heart.

Nicolo gulped back the heavy lump reforming in his chest that wanted to break free. He squeezed the grip of the sword and thought of what it destroyed in the name of false purpose.

But it can be baptized with new purpose.

Nicolo pulled his sword out of the jar.





Nicolo lifted the sword with both hands. He studied the gleam of the blade, the reflections of the sun turned the blade into a swirl of gold.

Behind him, the hens chirped, no longer interested once they realized Nicolo was not there to feed them. Even further back, the horse poked its head out of the narrow stable and softly nickered curiously but continued chewing the chaff in its bucket.

The scabbard, propped up for the short pen around the hens, clinked every so often as the chickens pecked it through the fence in hopes for food.

There was a breeze that lifted the cool water from the stream and blew around Nicolo’s legs. The sun has started its descent from the sky, no longer cooking the top of his head.

And yet sweat stuck Nicolo’s shirt to his back. His trousers clung uncomfortably to his knees and groin. And his hair hung thicker, heavier against his nape despite pulling it all back into a leather tie.

Nicolo set his jaw, shift his left foot forward and swung. The sword hummed high pitched as it cut through the air. He gripped the hilt with both hands and pulled the sword forwarding then arcing up.

Each swing was easier than the last. It felt like memory has settled into Nicolo's bones, guiding his limbs. Step back, pull up the sword, plow through, swing.

It was quiet as Nicolo went through the stances he learned, back when the sword was too heavy for a body still trying to grow out of the awkward bony elbows and knees. He remembered aching, cramping all the way down his lower back after each training session. He remembered wishing he could lie down, just for a spell, but he needed to clean the stables and tend to the church's pews before he was allowed dinner. It took years of broken bones and sprained backs before the sword finally felt like it was a part of him.

And then the Pope's call came. And he answered. And later died. And then reviving to real salvation. To Yusuf.

Nicolo blinked rapidly, his burning eyes contorting everything before him into shadows. He drew his sword close, struck forward and felt the sword tip him too forward.

With a yelp, Nicolo tumbled to the ground, on his hands and knees, the sword clattering by him.

Nicolo panted, harsh and loud, as he hunched over at a grassy spot on the ground. He stared blankly, confused why there were spots of blood until the metallic sweet taste registered on his tongue. Oh, he bit his lower lip. He could feel the warmth trailing down his chin. There was no pain. It already healed, well before the blood had a chance to dry.

Behind Nicolo, the horse snorted. The hens were still pecking his scabbard.

A soft crunch of grass. Nicolo lifted his head, but there was no one there at the back of the house.

With a sigh, Nicolo retrieved his sword. He studied it with a scowl.

Then Nicolo picked himself back up to try again.





The weary ache on Nicolo's shoulders faded the moment he rolled them back. Another breath, he continued with the advanced techniques.

The third stance was harder than Nicolo remembered, his arms shaking to keep the sword steady as he pulled it back close to his body. He shifted his back foot, moved the weight on his opposite hip and swung.

Forged steel whistled sharp in the air as it cut. Nicolo adjusted the swing, flexed his grip and it skimmed the tall grass in front of him.

Nicolo bent at the waist, knees bend as he gasped. He stared hard at the hip high grass.

A breeze past and the tops of the grass fluttered to the ground.

Nicolo grimaced. Not all of the grass yielded to his sword, though. His thighs quivered from the strain. His trousers were stuck to the back of his thighs and knees. His tunic bunched uncomfortably around his ribs.

And he was worryingly hard. Almost. He felt his cock stirring hot between his legs in the fringes of discomfort. Nicolo pressed the heel of his left hand on the base of his cock. He bit back a groan. His trousers were damp with sweat and stuck to his groin, overheating him more. He pressed firmer and sighed as his cock quieted. He was left with an odd ache, but at least he could stand upright again.

The sky was getting dark. The sun bade Nicolo farewell without him realizing it. The moon was low in the horizon like a pale blue jewel.

The hens have their heads tucked under their wings. The horse poked its head into the still full bucket, no longer hungry.

And Nicolo has not seen Yusuf.

There was a faint smell of the bread in the air and salty stewed meat. Nicolo realized with a pang he was supposed to make the evening meal today. And he was hungry.

Throat working, Nicolo cleaned his blade on the grass now damp with night dew. He went over to the stable, gave the horse a pat on the nose and received a gentle nuzzle into his hair in return. He tested the hens' fence for strength, checked the rooster was asleep and slipped his blade back into the scabbard.

With a deep breath, Nicolo tentatively went around to the house. He stopped by the doorway.

The house was empty.

Nicolo's throat worked. He glanced behind him but Yusuf was nowhere to be seen. Nicolo stood by the doorway. His erection was completely gone by now. And now he felt chilled. He could not bring himself to step inside. The space was small, but it was empty. The walls seemed to stretch back, the space larger and emptier than before.

Chest tight, limbs heavy, Nicolo nearly missed the bowl of stew and the loaf of bread on the table. Yusuf covered the bowl with the bread to keep the stew warm and to soften the bread.

Nicolo's eyes burned for a different reason now as he approached the table. There was his dagger, cleaned of blood and shiny with new polish. It held down a folded square of paper.

Hands shaking, Nicolo opened the note.

Went to take a bath. Eat while still hot. Come find me after eating. If you want.

Underneath the neat script, Yusuf drew in ink a small man with his sword, on the third position. With a fluffy cross-eyed chicken sitting on top of his head.

Nicolo choked on the chuckle that broke free. He scrubbed his burning eyes with a sleeve, getting a good sniff of himself in the process.

Yes, perhaps a bath is in order, after all.

Smiling faintly to himself, Nicolo set aside his sword and sat down to eat.
--------------------------------

Stop refreshing your browser. And stop snickering over there. I can hear yooooou. Yes, 20 chapters. Happy? (throw up hands) I surrender.

But just 20. Really. No, reall- Stop laughing! LOL

More tomorrow. Hoping to get back to my regular morning and evening posting schedule now that school is slowing down for Thanksgiving and my manager hinted she'll stop giving me last minute 8-2am shifts.

Fingers crossed!

NEW HERE: Needs of the Other 17B/20

[dr_libra_phd]

———————————————-
Part 17B
———————————————-

(Yusuf)

Somewhere outside of Alexandria, 12th century




He could not to be angry at Nicolo. It just was not in him.

Yusuf remembered the first time his blade clashed with Nicolo’s sword. Their mutual anger fueled by the battle around them had boiled it into rage. He felt rage towards the invaders. He felt confusion as to why they came across such a distance to destroy.

But at Nicolo himself? No. Decades shared with Nicolo, lifetimes over, has dulled their memories but Yusuf still recalled no anger towards Nicolo specifically.

There was a weight sitting on Yusuf’s chest. As he sat in the bathing pool, he rubbed the spot in the middle of his chest, fingers idly scratching the short chest hair as he wondered why it felt like a great object was crushing his ribs. He breathed around it slowly, his eyes glancing towards the path that led back to the house.

No one was approaching the stream.

The pressure on Yusuf’s chest increased.

Ah. Yusuf smiled wryly to himself. So that is the reason then. He was not surprised. He absentmindedly wiped a rag over his arms and shoulders as he continued facing the path. He wondered if Nicolo ate the stew. Yusuf hoped he did.

When Yusuf returned with the nets and the two traps—the poor rabbits were still alive and terrified so he let them go instead—he heard the thin whine of steel through the air.

He dropped the nets and ran towards the sound, only remembering too late his scimitar was at their dwelling.

Around the structure, Yusuf halted at the sight of Nicolo and his longsword. And he could not move, could not speak as slender arms and strong thighs stretched and flexed as Nicolo swung the sword. He acted like he was fighting an enemy. Perhaps he was.

Nicolo looked...

Yusuf’s hand released the rag. His hand wandered to his lax cock. He curled a loose hand around it.

Nicolo insisted his clothing was sufficient despite patches were getting threadbare, too worn to be patched again. So when damp with sweat, the patches turned transparent. And clung possessively.

The back of Nicolo’s trousers plastered around the shape of his ass, echoing the clench of his buttocks and hips as he lunge, feinted and swung. His sleeves shaped around the gentle curve of his biceps and the bent of his elbow. Yusuf remembered how Nicolo squirmed whenever Yusuf kissed the inside of his elbows, his beard brushing along his wrists as he savored the taste of Nicolo’s skin.

Yusuf murmured to himself, his hand tightening around his thickening sex. He spread his legs, his hips rolling back, his lower back flexing. He continued watching the path.

The sword was an extension of Nicolo. Arms straight, the sword obeyed every move, trembling only when Nicolo’s arms shook at the strain. His feet turned, switched, flexed as he slashed across the unseen in front of him.

Nicolo collapsed, due to exhaustion or a move done improperly, it was not clear. Yusuf almost bolted out from his hiding place.

The look on Nicolo’s face stopped him.

Eyes glinting a blue unlike Yusuf has ever seen and his jaw clenching, Nicolo looked ready to charge. His eyes challenged something only he could see. On his hands and knees, soaked with sweat, Nicolo’s chin lifted and dared someone to attack him at that moment.

“Hello Nicolo,” Yusuf murmured. His eyes glazed as he recalled the heat slowly churning in his belly. He retreated after Nicolo rose to his feet, the look in his eyes, the way his body moved with a fluidity and grace Yusuf did not realize he missed until it was back before him.

This was Nicolo, his Nicolo di Genova, his hobi, his forever.

Yusuf’s hand pumped his length under the water, faster as his memory trailed greedy eyes down Nicolo’s back, how it curved, tipping his ass back, his thighs slender yet strong as they bunched under clingy trousers. His broad shoulders, his narrow hips, the long arms that languidly moved as if they were underwater.

“Uh...Ni...” Yusuf breathed, his hand frantic. He squeezed his eyes shut, his own ass clenching at the memory of Nicolo’s finger shyly entering him. That blunt, long and knowing finger slipping in deep, filling Yusuf yet woefully not enough. How tentative it first explored him. How bold that touch became, striking that place inside with a sure stroke. Graceful warrior’s hands.

Yusuf came, with a force and rush of heat so sharp, his eyes flew open as if to let the fire billow out. The water splashed around him as his legs kicked out, his hand still around his cock, furiously pulling and coaxing every drop’s freedom.

It was both harder and easier to breathe. Yusuf gasped as the haze that dropped over his vision lifted. He raised heavy-lidded eyes to search for the darkening blue sky.

And found the darkening blue of Nicolo’s eyes instead.

Yusuf was too spent to blush. He sagged, his back supported by the edge of the pool. He caught Nicolo’s eyes drifting down towards the water.

“You came,” Yusuf rasped, out of breath as it felt like he could physically sense Nicolo's gaze caressing him. His legs fell open, his half-aroused state for Nicolo to see.

“You...you asked,” Nicolo said, distracted. His eyes lingered on the water. He knelt by the pool edge opposite of Yusuf. His tunic was wrinkled, having dried over Nicolo. It hugged Nicolo’s frame in a way Yusuf envied.

“I said only if you want,” Yusuf murmured. His hand wandered back to his sex.

“And did you?” Yusuf rumbled. His hand curled back around his cock. “Did you want?”

Nicolo’s throat worked, his hands curling around the yellowing grass along the edge. Yusuf kept still so he would not disturb the water. He kept his legs spread and his voice low.

“Did you?” Yusuf asked again, firmer.

Nicolo mutely nodded.

Yusuf thought about that look of defiance, the way the breeze flitted around Nicolo. His tongue swiped over his lower lip. He took a deep breath.

“Then take off your clothes,” Yusuf softly ordered. “Now.”

That narrow-eyed expression returned. Then eased as it went back to contemplate the water and Yusuf’s returning erection.

Yusuf’s hand stroked up his rising cock. His other hand gestured lazily at Nicolo.

“Stand up. I want to see it.”

Nicolo’s chin lifted. He did not say anything. But his eyes, oh, his eyes were the color of stormy seas crashing onto shore.

Yusuf stared back, his hand cupping his length, his expression bland as he considered Nicolo.

“Only if you want,” Yusuf murmured as he continued to pump his cock, the cool water teasing the tightening of his skin.

Nicolo considered Yusuf like he was trying to predict Yusuf’s next move. They were back on a battlefield, this one of their own choosing.

Without another word, Nicolo rose to his feet.

There was nothing playful in the way Nicolo undressed. He shrugged as he rolled his tunic up over his chest, tugging briefly to get it past his ears and hair. His trousers, with the laces undone, puddled down to bony ankles, revealing pale legs and a slender pink cock half risen between them.

Yusuf’s mouth went dry as his eyes trailed from Nicolo's narrow feet, up the bump of his anklebones, to the dark nest of hair between Nicolo’s legs.

Yusuf let go of his own cock and rose to his feet as well. He stood, feet at shoulder apart, his cock a hot weight pulling his groin. He waded to Nicolo.

Nicolo’s cock was flushed with blood, erect and against Nicolo’s stomach. There was dark hairs on his forearms, his calves, but very little anywhere else. Nicolo was smooth in some parts, rough in others.

Yusuf slipped a hand around Nicolo’s ankle. He rose up to kiss Nicolo’s right shin. Nicolo tasted of salty sweat.

“Stay there,” Yusuf murmured into Nicolo’s calf as he stretched as high as could could to mouthed the sparse hair covering Nicolo’s calf. His hand moved up the ankle, kneading the bunched muscles of the calf.

"Now sit down." Yusuf patted Nicolo’s ankle. He stepped back to watch Nicolo sit down on the edge of the pool. Yusuf guided Nicolo's knees over his shoulders. Before he change his mind, Yusuf slipped his palms over Nicolo's cheeks and abruptly stepped back.

Nicolo yelped which quickly changed to a groan when he found himself sitting on top of Yusuf's shoulders, held up afloat by Yusuf's hands on his ass.

The groan turned into a broken cry as Yusuf roughly tugged Nicolo closer, his mouth easily finding Nicolo's cock. He kissed the weeping tip before he gobbled Nicolo whole.

"Ah, ah," Nicolo choked. He hunched forward, his arms wrapped around Yusuf's head, trembling as Yusuf relaxed his throat and invited Nicolo's cock to slide all the way in.

Yusuf kept his lips pursed tight around Nicolo's length, his hands gripping Nicolo's cheeks tighter. He could not hold up Nicolo for too long, but oh, the weight of that defiance, that grace, quivering around him, in his throat with those tiny desperate sounds...He kneaded the cheeks as he sucked and let himself grow dizzy for air and from Nicolo's increasing hiccuped cries.

Nicolo's buttocks clenched, once more trying not to thrust, trying not to hurt and Yusuf had enough. He wanted the Nicolo he saw behind the house. He wanted the Nicolo that glared and dared someone, anyone, to fight him.

Yusuf noisily slurped around Nicolo's erection, hefted Nicolo higher, a hand moving, slipping in-between...

Nicolo jolted as a finger slipped in and claimed him. He started as one finger quickly became two. His hips helplessly jerked into Yusuf's mouth.

Yusuf groaned around the cock, his lips kneading the length as his fingers greedily explored Nicolo, seeking that spot where he rubbed across over and over, faster the higher Nicolo keened.

"Yu...Yu...oh w-wait, I-I...Oh, oh..."

Nicolo was babbling, sobbing and still trying not to thrust.

No, this will not do.

Yusuf's fingers twisted and dove deeper and as Nicolo arched his back, a thrust so deep the sky darkened, Yusuf slipped in the third.

Nicolo cried out Yusuf's name as if Yusuf held all the answers. He came as Yusuf tumbled him back onto the grass. He came when Yusuf devoured his cock again, his hands spreading Nicolo wide, wider, his fingers owning him, possessing him, demanding Nicolo to fall into another release.

Yusuf drank greedily, deliberately making obscene wet sounds as bitter fluid and saliva slobbered all over Nicolo's belly. Yusuf did not swallow. Instead, he wanted to mark Nicolo, he wanted to stain Nicolo. He wanted to rile up his Nicolo, shatter him and rebuild his beautiful warrior.

Mouths and fingers tasted and lay claim. When Nicolo rolled Yusuf onto his back, Yusuf hissed "Yes, yes" at the flash in Nicolo's eyes. He coaxed Nicolo to add another finger, groaning at the wonderful stretch, mewling as Nicolo swallowed and then crawl up to Yusuf's mouth to kiss him. They tasted each other in their mouths, their stained bodies smearing and rutting against each other.

Yusuf's fingers slipped back into Nicolo the moment Nicolo was within reach. Yusuf held as still as possible. And with a breathless voice, ordered Nicolo to ride his fingers.

Oh, how Nicolo rode Yusuf's hand, his hips rocking, his cock rutting into Yusuf's stomach. Nicolo moved with abandon, his eyes cloudy with need. Yusuf swore Nicolo would break his hand and if he did, Yusuf would enter Nicolo with his other hand and let Nicolo ride his fingers until he broke both of Yusuf's hands.

"Deeper," Yusuf demanded, "Take what you want. Fight for what you want from me."

"Yus..." Nicolo sobbed, gasping and pleading.

"No," Yusuf croaked. "I will do nothing. Take what you want, Nicolo. Fight for it."

Nicolo bowed his head, breathing harshly before he groaned. He ground his cock against Yusuf's, his ass clutching Yusuf's fingers and snapped back into Yusuf's hand before surging forward to strike against Yusuf's cock.

"Yes," Yusuf murmured. It hurt to hold still when he wanted to yank Nicolo against him.

Nicolo wailed, his head thrown back when he came. He held his pelvis up, his cock spilling all over Yusuf's torso and crotch. Nicolo marked him just like Yusuf had marked him. And Nicolo thrashed, grinding against Yusuf, incoherent as he rode Yusuf's fingers. He only stopped when Yusuf came once more and everything now felt too sharp on their skins.

Yusuf wrapped a leg around Nicolo, his heel on the top of the cleft. He tried to speak. Could not. He watched Nicolo tried to do the same.

"Was..." Nicolo panted. "Was this what you want? What I want? I..."

Yusuf's chest expanded, too big to fit, warm and intoxicating as he gazed on Nicolo curled half on top of him. He pressed a fingertip into Nicolo's hole and felt him shiver against him. And then knocked his head onto Yusuf's chin to chide him to stop.

"Yes," Yusuf murmured. He dropped a kiss on Nicolo's damn head.

"This is exactly what we both want. In fact, it is what we both needed."

---------------------
Sooooo, it was just Yusuf today because he wanted SEX. lol

See you tomorrow!

NEW HERE: Needs of the Other 17C/20

[dr_libra_phd]

Quick sex scene. I can't call it make up sex because they suck at arguing, huh? LOL


———————————————-
Part 17C
———————————————-

(Nicolo)

Somewhere outside of Alexandria, 12th century




The sigh against Nicolo's nape did not sound like the other has slept at all.

“You can not sleep?” Nicolo whispered. Sleep was elusive for him as well. He rubbed the arm around his middle. “Does today still trouble you?”

Yusuf shifted, his forehead bumping to the back of Nicolo’s head.

“Wait for me after we break fast in the morning,” Yusuf mumbled. “I will go with you.”

Nicolo’s hand stilled over Yusuf’s arm.

“You do not have to,” Nicolo said. “I know you spoke out of fear before. I will be fine. You may be correct that Hedi did not inform his men about the village and they will be spared. I go merely to assure them one will be there to defend them.”

Yusuf sighed again.

Nicolo turned his head, but he could not catch a glimpse of Yusuf.

“Tell me,” Nicolo softly requested. “Something weighs you.”

“Will you promise me something?”

“Anything,” Nicolo replied immediately.

Yusuf’s smile pressed into Nicolo’s nape hot like a brand. It was a pity such a mark shared between them was not possible.

“Always be there when I look for you.” The arms around Nicolo’s middle tightened. “Waking from sleep. Or from death. Even if we are angry with each other. Please be the first thing I see when I open my eyes.”

"I swear I will never break this promise." Nicolo reached up for Yusuf’s forearm. He curled a hand around Yusuf’s pulse.

“As for angry...I do not think I can truly stay angry with you,” Nicolo admitted. “Before, my ire did not last as long as my wish to see you again.”

Yusuf kissed the back of Nicolo’s hair. “It was the same for me. How quick you forgive humbles me.” He slipped a leg between Nicolo’s. A distinct heat rested on Nicolo’s lower back.

Nicolo flushed.

“Your stamina humbles me,” Nicolo muttered. He fidgeted, leaning back into Yusuf and his half aroused cock. “I thought your appetite was sated.” Twice, in fact. The unfortunate chicken that had wandered by the doorway shrieked scandalized.

“I always hunger for you,” Yusuf exhaled. “But no, rest, my heart. I will deal with it. I can not help react to you, but I will behave. I do not have the strength to have another bath with you.”

Nicolo snorted, but remained where he lay. He felt Yusuf shift closer, his hips rocking quietly into Nicolo’s back.

“Another bath and I would shrivel in places that would displease you,” Nicolo scoffed.

Yusuf embraced Nicolo harder, his rutting more urgent. Nicolo could not help but follow.

“Nothing of you,” Yusuf breathed, “could ever displease me. The more I touch you, the more I crave. The more I taste you, the more I hunger. The more I see you, the more I long to see you again. I am certain the sight and feel of you will excite me for a millennia. More.”

Nicolo moaned quietly at Yusuf’s words, at the sensation of Yusuf gliding over him, his cock a hard presence that made his insides quivered. His body suddenly felt heavy and clumsy, his limbs moving without his permission.

“Yusuf,” Nicolo whimpered as he reached down and fumbled for the laces of his trousers.

Yusuf’s hand reached around and captured Nicolo’s, stopping him from tugging down his trousers.

"Oh..." Nicolo tried to tug his hand free. "I n-need, I-I, Yu...Yusuf..."

“Sh,” Yusuf hushed. He kissed Nicolo’s right shoulder again and again as he continued to grind along the length of Nicolo’s back.

Nicolo heard himself whining deep in his throat, felt his legs bending and straightening. Yusuf’s leg between his was gone and the loss was unbearable. It was like in the pool when Yusuf’s fingers filled him. It was like the many times where Yusuf’s touch filled and stretched but still left him feeling so empty.

He needed more of Yusuf. Somehow. Now.

“Yusuf,” Nicolo moaned. “Yusuf, this feeling...I do not understand...Yu—Please.”

“What do you want?” Yusuf whispered.

“I-I,” Nicolo quietly sobbed. “I do not know. I just do. Please.”

Yusuf rocked harder into Nicolo, his erection freed now, hot and leaking as it rubbed into the skin exposed when Nicolo yanked up the hem of his tunic, his fist around the fabric threatening to tear his own shirt.

“Uh,” Nicolo choked out. “Yu—Please...I...”

“You are okay,” Yusuf murmured, a voice without a face hidden behind Nicolo, his beard a tantalizing sensation along the exposed skin around Nicolo’s neckline. “Tell me. I would climb up to the moon for you. Tell me.”

“I-I do not kno—Yu...Yusuf,” Nicolo hiccuped.

Yusuf slowly tugged down Nicolo’s trousers from his ass. He shushed Nicolo again when Nicolo keened. His thick thighs caught Nicolo’s between his, pressing them together. Yusuf’s cock squeezed in-between Nicolo’s thighs.

Nicolo choked. Yes. This. But also not. The heat of Yusuf’s cock pushing between his thighs was good and yet...yet...

“Ah...” Nicolo found himself gasping.

Yusuf muttered something into Nicolo’s hair Nicolo could not grasp. Yusuf drew up his knees, wrapping his legs around Nicolo’s, squeezing his thighs together even tighter.

Heat rutted under Nicolo’s sacs, the hard length poking out under his cock. Yusuf groaned, muttering he can not reach the oil, but Nicolo could not bring himself to fathom why. He did not care. He slapped his hands over Yusuf’s firm grip on his hips. He felt Yusuf’s fingers flexing, digging into muscle. He panted, broken cries spilling out as he tried to stay afloat. He was drowning as he writhed within Yusuf's hold.

“Please...p-please...” Nicolo nearly wept as he shook. "Yusuf, please..."

Yusuf’s cock was slick with bitter seed that wept over his length. It was slick with the sweat from their bodies. But it was not enough and Nicolo burned as cock pushed through the tender skin of his inner thighs.

This should hurt. For him. For Yusuf. But hurts healed as fast as they formed. And there was something billowing hot in the pit of Nicolo’s stomach.

Nicolo found himself begging, blind with a desperation he could not understand. He bucked back into Yusuf, his hands clutching Yusuf’s. He kept pleading for more. But more of what, he did not know.

Yusuf soothed Nicolo, murmuring, “Not not, not yet” and made odd whispered promises of laying Nicolo wet and loose on the softest bed, feeding him plump fruits to sweeten his lips and filling up Nicolo over and over until he overflowed, until he begged Yusuf to stop.

Nicolo could not imagine ever telling Yusuf to stop. He pressed his thighs together as hard as he could. Yusuf groaned into Nicolo’s nape as he came, thick white ribbons that splashed down Nicolo’s thighs and knees. When Nicolo tumbled into his own release after, everything went white behind his eyes, his voice cracking as he wailed out Yusuf’s name.

Yusuf’s panting by Nicolo’s ear drowned out his own gasping. Nicolo felt sticky, cold as their releases cooled on his body. But he could not move, not even to reach for the rag Yusuf insisted they hang on the wall by their bed.

A hand reached over Nicolo’s head and plucked the rag off the peg on the wall.

“I should not have done that without the oil,” Yusuf mourned. He gently wiped the back of Nicolo’s legs. “Did I hurt you?”

“Never,” Nicolo mumbled. He blinked blearily at the doorway. He thought he saw bright tiny eyes but then shadows tottered away with a soft flap of wings and the doorway was empty again.

“We really need a door,” Nicolo yawned. He rolled onto his back and gazed up at Yusuf.

“Eh? Of course, whatever you wish,” Yusuf muttered as he moved the rag over himself before pulling up his trousers back over his softened cock. He made a face at the rag, tossing it to the doorway before he pulled his sleep shirt over his head. His curls was in a wild disarray.

Nicolo wanted to bury his fingers into the thick hair but suspected they would need another bath if that happens. So he tucked his hands under his ass. He drowsily watched Yusuf use his tunic to clean Nicolo’s front.

Yusuf smiled to himself, humming as he moved the tunic gently over Nicolo’s stomach. His fingers were warm even through the shirt he held.

The overwhelming hot feeling returned, this time over Nicolo’s heart, rising up to his throat and...

“I love you,” Nicolo blurted out. His throat worked when Yusuf stilled.

“I should have said this many times.” Nicolo closed his eyes. “I am sorry. I-I never said this to anyone before. Did I say it too late? Should I not say it after this? I did not say it only because of this.”

Nicolo’s eyes opened when Yusuf’s palm cupped his chin. Yusuf was bent over him, his eyes overly bright, his smile small yet somehow also so bright.

“I know, hobi,” Yusuf croaked. “You tell me everyday in everything you do. I should tell you every day, every hour as well but...”

Yusuf sniffled loudly.

“The word ‘love’ is so small, too ordinary, too plain to truly say what I feel for you.” Yusuf blinked and a tear trickled down to his beard. “For once, I do not have the pretty words you deserve to hear.”

Nicolo wrapped his arms around Yusuf’s neck and pulled him down. He felt a few more tears against him and he hugged Yusuf tighter.

“I know,” Nicolo whispered into Yusuf’s ear. “You show me in everything you do as well.”

Yusuf clutched Nicolo and wept a bit more.

“...Yusuf? Will you promise me something?”

“Anything. Everything.” Yusuf would not let go.

Nicolo rested his head on Yusuf’s shoulder. Yusuf gave the best hugs.

“What you said before...” Nicolo cleared his throat. “It will happen?”

“Yes, of course, I swear. I promise.” Yusuf kissed under Nicolo’s jaw. “I need but a bit more to make it perfect for you.”

It was an odd thing to say when Yusuf himself will make it perfect. But when Nicolo said it out loud, Yusuf shed more tears into his shirt.

“Good,” Nicolo murmured. After hesitation, Nicolo added, “If you do not do what you promised, I think then I would be angry at you.”

Yusuf laughed into Nicolo’s shoulder.

------------------------------

Crawling back to bed to catch a nap before my last 8-2 shift. I hope. My manager promised.

Zzzzzz...

More tomorrow!

NEW PARTS START HERE: Needs of the Other 17D/20

[dr_libra_phd]

...pathetically long whiny reason for late post at end. But first, fic!

———————————————-
Part 17D
———————————————-

(Yusuf)

Somewhere outside of Alexandria, 12th century




“You are being watched, Nicolo,” Yusuf muttered out of the corner of his mouth.

Besides him, Nicolo pretended to adjust the longsword strapped to his hip and glanced over his right shoulder. His brow furrowed.

“I do not see anything,” Nicolo said without moving his lips. He smiled faintly at an elderly woman struggling with her basket of cured fish. He stepped in front of her, shielding her from any possible threat and with careful hand gestures, offered to help.

Yusuf bit back a grin that wanted to break free as the woman chattered by Nicolo’s ear, Nicolo nodded, humming in that polite but perplexed way of his. She spoke in a dialect of Turkish mixed with Arabic. It echoed faintly of Yusuf’s homelands and beyond Nicolo’s comprehension. But his Nicolo tried as he dutifully carried a basket with both hands.

Eyes on Nicolo’s back, Yusuf followed, his smile fading into a frown. Should Hedi’s men chose this moment to attack, Nicolo would not have his hands free.

Yusuf trailed behind the pair, one hand casually moving to the dagger strapped to his left hip. He kept his other hand free to grab his scimitar that hung across his back, waving greetings to those waving back to ensure his hand stayed within reach of his sword.

They walked through the village, through the single row of stalls that served as their market. Yusuf kept his steps on the edge of Nicolo’s shadow, his ears open for sounds that rose high pitched in alarm rather than the cheerful ones.

As like for the past two days, there was nothing. The villagers eyed Nicolo and Yusuf with bemusement as they wandered the whole of the village trice in the morning, ate a modest meal outside of the village to watch the roads and then went around the village another three times before they went home.

“I still do not see them,” Nicolo said tersely, rejoining Yusuf’s side after he carried the basket into the woman’s stall. "Where are they?"

“Eh?” Yusuf blinked at Nicolo. Then he remembered. And chuckled.

“Ah. Apologies. I meant the children we walked past.” Yusuf’s elbow gently knocked into Nicolo’s side. “I told you not to give them your sugared figs. They now follow you like our chickens in hopes of more.”

Nicolo’s brow knitted. He glanced past Yusuf’s shoulder where Yusuf suspected the littlest one was still staring wide-eyed at them. She did not have the same instinct to flee like her older siblings.

Nicolo raised his hand and hesitantly wiggled his fingers at someone behind Yusuf. Yusuf heard a giggle and the patter of small feet fleeing.

Yusuf wanted to tug Nicolo to him and kiss the baffled look off Nicolo’s face. Oh, his heart did not understand why the children adored him and why woman young and old greeted Nicolo easily.

But such gestures were not welcomed in many places. Yusuf kept a tally in his mind though of the many kisses he owes Nicolo. He would gladly repay Nicolo within the walls of their home.

“See?” Yusuf murmured as they continued walking, “they are not afraid of the sword you carry.”

Nicolo grimaced. “They do not have the memory of war.”

Yet was left unsaid.

“No,” Yusuf agreed. “They have the memory of sugared figs.” He bumped his elbow into Nicolo again. “Stop giving your food away to the little ones and our horse.”

Nicolo shot Yusuf a faint smirk, “You are only upset the horse refused your figs when you offered.”

“Bah, I did not offer it figs. I was throwing them at the ungrateful beast after it tried to bite me again.”

Nicolo scoffed. Then blinked at the jovial call of their names from afar. His stride slowed, letting Yusuf’s profile cloak him and part of his longsword.

Yusuf sharply glanced over. Nicolo ignored him, his jaw set, his arms stiffer as they walk. His longsword rattled against Yusuf’s knee.

“Nicolo—“ Yusuf began.

“I am fine,” Nicolo bit out.

The longsword knocked against Yusuf’s hip. Yusuf grunted but did not step aside.

“No one is thinking you are—“ Yusuf sighed when someone shouted angrily, at something that wheeled over his wares. Nicolo flinched as if it was directed to him.

“We should walk behind the mill next,” Yusuf suggested. “The market is safe.”

Nicolo nodded jerkily.

“Nic—“

“Not everyone are easily charmed by a few sugared figs,” Nicolo muttered low enough Yusuf needed to lean in to hear. Nicolo’s longsword smacked against the back of Yusuf’s calf. That one was sure to leave a bruise, however short-lived.

“Those who remember would refuse an olive branch or a fig no matter how sincere the offer,” Nicolo sighed. His shoulders slumped. “I need to accept that some may refuse but I do not blame them.”

Yusuf waited until they were clear of the stalls before he leaned in again.

“I would never refuse your sugared figs, hobi,” Yusuf purred, his hand reaching over. Under the guise of helping Nicolo straighten his sword, Yusuf cupped Nicolo’s cock under his trousers. He quickly hopped back, pulling his hand away when Nicolo squeaked.

Nicolo glared at Yusuf, who waggled his eyebrows.

“If they refuse you,” Yusuf added, sobering, “They are refusing me as well.”

Nicolo stared at Yusuf. His throat worked.

“Besides,” Yusuf murmured, a smirk growing, “It means more sugared figs to myself, hm?”

With a sigh, shaking his head, Nicolo gave Yusuf a half-hearted shove away.

“You are ridiculous,” Nicolo muttered. His mouth curled at the corners, his ears pinked. His steps picked up and he pulled ahead of Yusuf, his gait a loose and easy stride once again as he turned towards the mill.

Yusuf grinned to himself and continued to follow.






He was distracted by the smooth thrust of Nicolo’s hips that he almost got his head cut off.

Yusuf yelped, jumped back and blocked the swing at the last moment.

Nicolo’s brow knitted. He stilled, lowering his sword.

“Are you all right? That was not a hard move. I thought you would easily avoid it.”

Yusuf panted, pointed to the sun sinking behind Nicolo and gestured to his eyes. It would not be to his benefit to admit the shape of Nicolo’s cock under his trousers moved when his hips did that sway to spin him back. No, admitting he was increasingly partial to how clothing clings to Nicolo would not bode well for him.

“Continue,” Yusuf wheezed.

The frown deepened. “Are you sure?”

Yusuf jumped forward, his scimitar arcing up. Nicolo huffed. He dodged the blow, his sword blocking the swing.

Sword and blade rang loud in the air. The longsword was heavier, but its reach made up for its weight. Yusuf found himself darting to avoid the tip more than finding an opening.

There was a sense of memory. a sense of altered history of how they fought the first time. Yusuf did not smile as much or at all back then. The walls of the city he defended were to his back, the whine of metal and the messy spurts of spilled blood were to his front.

Nicolo did not smile then nor did he now. But the determination that darkened his eyes back then were lighter and richer now with a fondness. Yusuf could not help but react to it. He chuckled as Nicolo missed. He hooted when his scimitar crossed the sword.

"You are getting slow with your advanced years," Yusuf teased as he hopped back from the longsword. "Perhaps we should find a smith to make you a longer sword instead? A staff, perhaps? To swat at our enemies like they were flies!"

"Are you trying to slay me with your words?" Nicolo gasped, his eyes crinkled as he swept his leg under Yusuf's feet. He glowered when Yusuf leapt back on his feet. "Hold still."

"Ay, ay," Yusuf teased. "Does your eye sight fail you? Can you not see me before you? My poor Nicolo, am I moving too fast?"

Yusuf used the hilt of his blade to knock Nicolo's sword aside. He swerved around and tapped Nicolo's buttocks with the flat of the scimitar.

Nicolo sputtered as he spun around. "Yusuf," he half scolded, half laughed. He drew up to a striking stance, feet apart, shoulders readying.

Unbidden, Yusuf’s eyes wandered down to Nicolo's sweat damp trousers and the shape of a slender cock tucked slightly to the—

A mass of feathers and shiny black eyes shrieked and flapped and ruffled by the tip of Yusuf’s nose.

In all the centuries later, Yusuf will never admit that he had shrieked as well, flapping his arms at whatever fluffy monstrosity Nicolo tossed at his face. And he will never admit, under threat of anything, that he fell onto the grass on his ass, his scimitar clattering by his feet.

However, Yusuf will enjoy telling countless times of how Nicolo looked, doubled over, laughing to the point he was crying, a feather from the hen he sent Yusuf’s way stuck on his left cheek, pink-cheeked and happy.

“That,” Yusuf sputtered from the ground. He shooed the affronted chicken away, “was most unkind, hobi. And what if the feathered menace peck my eyes out?”

“They would grow back, like my ear did in Tanjari,” Nicolo managed, his chuckles fading, but his beautiful smile remained. Nicolo extended a hand towards Yusuf.

“This will teach you to look where you are supposed to and not...” Nicolo cleared his throat meaningfully.

Yusuf smiled up. He ignored the hand and folded his arms behind his head.

“Ah, or perhaps you secretly wish to temporarily blind me and make me nibble my way around in search of your cock.”

Nicolo flushed, stammered and then yelped as well when Yusuf captured his offered hand and yanked Nicolo to fall on top of him.

“Yusuf,” Nicolo grumbled, but his eyes were the color of a summer sea. “When you suggested we practice our swords before our evening meal, I expected more swords.”

“How do you expect me to fight when all you make me think about is laying you on this grass?” Yusuf rumbled. “I would have you here as my evening meal, but I fear it will upset our chickens.”

Nicolo pushed himself off Yusuf’s chest with an elbow on the grass. He huffed as he rolled to lay on the grass besides Yusuf instead. He gazed up at the sky slowly turning a shade of violet and red Yusuf thought would make a nice cloak for Nicolo. When he said this out loud, Nicolo scoffed. He thought such colors would fare better on Yusuf.

“I am a man with a gray life,” Nicolo murmured, his eyes still on the sky. “Such lively colors would be a waste on me.”

Yusuf’s chest twinge. It always does every time Nicolo says something like this.

“I hope,” Yusuf murmured, “Life with me will not be so gray, my heart.”

“Life with you,” Nicolo rasped, his voice suddenly thick, “has colors I do not even know the name of. To this day, I wonder what I have done to earn such a gift?”

And Nicolo said Yusuf has the pretty words.

Yusuf ran a knuckle across his chin, kneading his beard and hoping he was not grinning too broadly.

“You do not think it a curse?” Yusuf mused out loud. “The first year we traveled together, you often thought your God was punishing you.”

Nicolo was silent, his eyes towards the sky, his profile was serene like the statues Yusuf once gazed upon as a boy: carved blank faces yet with a warmth that glowed within like an ember. Nicolo’s nose was strong, a line that empathized the edge of his jaw and cheekbones. Nicolo’s profile could be mistaken as stern. Yet his eyes were far from hard. They were soft swirls of color that mist or sparkle by what light shines through that moment.

“I think...” Nicolo said hesitantly, stumbling over his words. “If I gained eternity, alone, without you, I would think it a curse.”

Yusuf blinked rapidly. He turned his head towards Nicolo, who still gazed at the sky. His ears were now were a feverish flush as well.

“I think,” Yusuf murmured, “It would take me an eternity to find a word that truly encompass what you mean to me and how I feel about you. But until then, will you humbly accept “I love you” for now?”

Nicolo closed his eyes. He sniffed loudly, yet his eyes were dry when he opened them again. He turned on his side, facing Yusuf.

Yusuf smiled. He brushed away the feather still on Nicolo’s cheek.

“Would I be too greedy to ask you to tell me again?” Nicolo whispered.

Yusuf rolled to face Nicolo. “Should I haggle? How many more times should I assault your poor ears with such simple words?”

“...forever?” Nicolo ventured, hesitant.

Yusuf smiled as he sat on with an elbow.

“I think that is more than a fair price,” Yusuf breathed. He leaned in, pressing his body over Nicolo’s, aligning the heat and swells between their legs.

“No more swords then?” Nicolo groaned out as Yusuf rocked against him. “Should we not talk about what to have for our evening me—Yusuf.”

“I,” Yusuf growled as he hooked fingers into Nicolo’s trousers to pull them down, “have decided I will have you as the evening meal.”

Nicolo’s eyes flared, a blue no water or sky could ever achieve. He wrapped his arms around Yusuf’s shoulders and let himself be devoured.

----------------------------
...sigh. Apparently I went to bed after my shift ended Weds at 2AM and slept all the way to 8PM last night. (facepalm) Missed two classes. Luckily I didn't have work. Tad annoyed my dear fam didn't seem concerned enough to go and poke me in my bed to see if I still breathed. LOL.

Hence, the boring no-sex, mushy part here as I try to explain to my teachers why I was a log yesterday.

More tomorrow as we move to part 18!

NEW HERE: Needs of the Other 18A/20

[dr_libra_phd]

No Zoom class, but manager gave me a double shift. Yay, I suppose. Means holiday money. But feeling a tad irk I can't be home writing this, but instead sitting in my car with my Samsung plugged in and a Wendy's Frosty and nuggets for dinner. Just 90 minutes before next shift so this part may get messy. Sorry in advance!

———————————————-
Part 18A
———————————————-

(Nicolo)

Somewhere outside of Alexandria, 12th century




“Do not move.”

Nicolo froze. He held his breath. His back felt cold, the arms around him were absent. The blanket pulled over his head was now gathered in thick folds under his bare legs.

Yusuf’s whisper was behind him, low and thick as if he had only roused from sleep. Which itself was odd; Nicolo often woke up first.

“What is it?” Nicolo said, staying still. His eyes flitted to their doorway.

There was nothing at the doorway, but it did not mean a threat did not exist. Nicolo was acutely aware of his undress. Yusuf tried his best to devour Nicolo right there on the grass last night. Nicolo thought Yusuf drained him of every drop. But after their true evening meal, Yusuf declared he was still famished and...well...their clothing were...somewhere.

But it also meant they were now vulnerable, exposed in every sense of the way like this. And their swords were—

“Ah,” Yusuf rasped. Suddenly, his hand dropped on Nicolo’s right ankle.

“I did not mean to alarm you,” Yusuf said. His thumb smoothed over Nicolo’s ankle bone. “I, I woke up early and, I mean...”

Nicolo did not pull his foot away from Yusuf’s grasp. He carefully rolled onto his back. He resisted pulling his hands down to cover himself when he caught the strain crinkling the corners of Yusuf’s eyes.

“Bad dream?” Nicolo murmured. He raised his other foot and brushed it over Yusuf’s knee.

Yusuf sat cross-legged by Nicolo’s feet, his hair a fray from his hands running through it. He kept Nicolo’s foot in his hands, stroking the top to the ankle with his thumb.

With a sigh, Yusuf murmured little sounds that sounded like they could have been words. He studied Nicolo's foot, playfully tweaked the smallest toe, chuckling when Nicolo's foot twitched in response.

Nicolo studied Yusuf and the way his mouth curled up at the corners, then down and then back up again as if Yusuf could not decide if he wanted to smile or not.

"You are still too thin," Yusuf muttered. He palmed Nicolo's ankle. "I would think I have starved you had I not seen you eat the second bowl of grain last night."

"It was one of your better imaginative cooking attempts," Nicolo replied. His eyes swept across Yusuf's shoulders and the slight slump. "I did not have an urge to feed it to our hens instead."

"Ha," Yusuf shot back. It was a weak retort; his mouth did not fully turn up.

"Yusuf," Nicolo whispered. He tapped Yusuf's knee with his other foot again. "What troubles you? The dream?"

“A small one,” Yusuf murmured. “I did not have the heart to wake you. Many times, dreams disturb your sleep not mine.” He gazed at Nicolo, his weary eyes lingering on Nicolo's face.

"It does make my heart light to see you sleep with such peace and content. I loathed the thought of destroying it."

“There is no peace if I wake to see you in such shadow,” Nicolo said, drowsy, lulled by the feather soft strokes on his foot. “What was your dream about?”

“I do not recall. Truly, it is not a lie,” Yusuf dismissed it. “But I woke up with the desperate urge to see you even though I was gifted with you warm in my embrace.”

Yusuf shrugged.

"I can not explain it. It felt like you were a mirage and would be taken from me. I needed to see you. All of you."

Nicolo considered Yusuf.

"It is not a small dream if it leaves you this anxious." Nicolo started to sit up, but a flash of panic on Yusuf's expression stilled him. He settled back on their bed and sleepily watched Yusuf cradle Nicolo's foot.

"Does Hedi's men worry you?" Nicolo studied Yusuf as he grimaced. "It has been a few days. Perhaps I was wrong and the village truly is safe."

Yusuf grunted.

"If not," Nicolo continued. "We are there."

"We are but only two, Nicolo," Yusuf reminded Nicolo. "Two watching over a village of almost a hundred souls, not counting the young."

Nicolo's throat worked. "You think we may not be enough?"

"I think we should plan for the worse." Yusuf's eyes clouded over. "You and I both know even with the best plans, a city can still fall."

Nicolo dropped his head back. He nodded.

Yusuf exhaled. "I did not mean--"

"No," Nicolo murmured. "What you say hold truth. In all our years, we have seen how the tide of violence can destroy so much with so little effort. You are right. We need to prepare for the worse."

"And we will, you and I," Yusuf assured Nicolo. He patted Nicolo's ankle. "Seeing you like this always inspires me. Seeing you gives me life"

"Once more, not a lie," Nicolo commented dryly. He stared meaningfully at the dark nest shadowed between Yusuf’s legs. Yusuf's cock jutted up proudly. "Does this mean I need not bother to make food to break fast over?"

“You would think,” Yusuf snorted, “I have my fill of you last night, but watching you sleep, my hunger returns.”

Yusuf's expression still bore shadows that hurt to see.

Thinking quickly, Nicolo drew up one leg and noted Yusuf's eyes following up to his groin.

“I always have the urge to see you as well,” Nicolo murmured. He curled a loose hand over his cock and gave it a slow stroke.

Yusuf hummed. His eyes narrowed and a smile slowly formed.

It was Nicolo’s only warning before Yusuf yanked him closer by his foot.

“Yusuf,” Nicolo huffed as Yusuf tugged Nicolo over his lap. He began enthusiastically kissing Nicolo’s throat.

Nicolo stretched his neck as he squirmed to seat fully on Yusuf's lap. He twisted, his stirring cock brushing over the firm planes of Yusuf's stomach.

Yusuf groaned into the crook of Nicolo’s shoulder. He surged up, his erection lining up with Nicolo’s cock.

Nicolo shuddered. He twisted, straddling Yusuf’s hips. He nudged Yusuf onto his back.

“Ah, my Nicolo,” Yusuf breathed. His eyes shone as he watched Nicolo rearranged himself until Yusuf’s cock tapped Nicolo’s cheeks.

“Nicolo,” Yusuf groaned as Nicolo rocked back into Yusuf’s erection. Nicolo reached behind himself. Nicolo guided Yusuf’s cock between his cheeks, flushing as he imagined how he must look.

Whatever embarrassment Nicolo would have felt fled after Yusuf gave a guttural groan. Yusuf’s hips jerked up.

“What spell did you cast on me? Why can I not get enough of you?” Yusuf moaned. He gripped Nicolo’s hips, holding him still as he rutted up into the cheeks, his erection rubbing over Nicolo’s taint again and again.

That hot, too big feeling sat within Nicolo again. He whimpered, rocking back as much as he could into Yusuf’s thrusts. He could feel the velvety sacs brushing under his. It was so much, too much, yet not enough.

“Sh,” Yusuf hushed when Nicolo choked. “Soon. I will get lost inside you, fill you until you spill, oh my heart, my Nicolo, I hope never to forget how you look right now and how you will look then. Hobi, do not stay quiet. Let me hear you. Let me hear my Nicolo...”

It was like Yusuf was an Arabian stallion between Nicolo’s legs. Powerful and thrumming with strength, bucking into Nicolo unchallenged, tearing across the desert, pounding...pounding...

“Yusuf,” Nicolo groaned. He clutched Yusuf’s arms that stretched towards his hips. He felt bruised, aching, burning between his legs, his cock bobbing frantically as he rode Yusuf.

“Let me hear you,” Yusuf breathed. His hips snapped up, his cock striking over Nicolo’s entrance with all the surety of a sword.

“Ah, ah!” Nicolo cried out. He barely held on.

Yusuf thrust, his hips rising off their bed, the strength of his torso lifting Nicolo, bouncing Nicolo while his hands held Nicolo steady.

Yusuf groaned as he came, his release burning hot as it dribbled between Nicolo’s cheeks. Yusuf weakly thrust again, each stroke stronger as he regained his strength. He kept Nicolo over his body, his cock still not spent and still trying to conquer Nicolo.

Fingers dug into the meat of Nicolo’s hips. Nicolo’s thighs burned trying to stay straddled, spread too wide over Yusuf’s torso. Nicolo slumped forward, panting as his forehead rested on Yusuf's chest. He bear down each time Yusuf bucked up. His entrance fluttered, convulsed. He ached.

"Yusuf," Nicolo groaned. "This feeling...please..."

The pace was a blur, bodies crashing against each other in a tangle of damp skin and limbs.

Nicolo heard himself, heard his words spilling out faster, louder, drowning out Yusuf's urging as he let loose the need, want, the absolute desperation to have all of Yusuf, give all to Yusuf and lock each other into a primal connection that nothing could break, even death itself.

"Nicolo," Yusuf sobbed, his fingers leaving bruises that promise ecstasy, not pain. "I love you. My beautiful Nicolo, my everything--I love you."

Nicolo moaned as he came, spilling across Yusuf's chest, splattering Yusuf's beard with his release and his own "I love yous" tumbling out of his lips. He heard himself whimpering, thrashing in both body and mind as he gave into the haze of blinding light behind his eyes.

"Each time, it feels like I am going blind," Nicolo gasped. He kissed Yusuf's chin.

"If so, I am glad my last sight will be your face."

Yusuf growled, a hand moving around to Nicolo's damp taint. A finger probed, entered and possessed.

"Oh," Nicolo whimpered. "Yus--Oh...please...more..."

One became two. Nicolo rode the fingers, growing dizzy as he felt a storm growing inside his chest, forcing his air out into small needy sounds. He keened, felt his erection renew as the third finger slipped in.

He was full. But he also felt empty. Nicolo cried, unsure why, pleading over Yusuf's "Soon, soon..." until the fourth finger pushed through.

Nicolo's breath stuttered at the stretch. He clenched around the fingers, gasping as he rutted into Yusuf's groin and thought of how thick Yusuf's cock was compared to Yusuf's fingers inside him.

"Hobi," Yusuf choked. He sounded destroyed. "Look at you. Oh, look at you..."

Nicolo squeezed Yusuf's arms. It felt like he could break bone. Was this how Yusuf felt last night? Falling into a never-ending hot pit of hunger, starved for more, the ache gnawing in his belly for more. The urge to be gentle, to be careful, to not hurt was swept away as if flayed apart in a sandstorm.

All that remained was this need. Nothing else remained. Nothing else mattered.

"Do you feel it? How it rises to fill every part of you? This need? Let me hear you," Yusuf rasped. "I feel you against me. I need to hear you. Louder, hobi. Deafen my ears until all I hear is you."

Yusuf's fingers thrust, deeper, so large, so full, taking over every part of Nicolo. They piston in, thick and forceful as if pushing that storm up Nicolo's chest, up his throat, until...

Nicolo wailed, tears down his face as it felt like his second release was wrenched out from within. It rang, drowning own Yusuf's shout as their cocks spilled together, adding to Nicolo's claim all over Yusuf's chest. Their seed mingled and smeared across both their bodies. When Nicolo collapsed over Yusuf, Yusuf wrapped arms and legs tight around Nicolo and white fluid dribbled out between their bodies.

Nicolo panted, curled on top of Yusuf, spent, too hot and absolutely content to stay there forever.

"I think they heard you in the village," Yusuf murmured. He kissed the top of Nicolo's head. His fingers leisurely stroked inside Nicolo until it was too much and left Nicolo feeling too big for his shrinking skin. But when Yusuf's fingers slipped out one by one, it left him a worse feeling.

"I know," Yusuf kissed Nicolo's brow when a whine creaked out at the loss. "My heart, my all, I feel the loss of your warmth as keenly."

Nicolo breathed slowly against Yusuf's chest. The smell of musk and sweat was strong yet his limbs refused to move.

"We should go to the village," Nicolo mumbled. "Do you think we can teach the hens to pull a cart? I do not think I can move."

Yusuf chuckled against Nicolo's hair.

---------------------------------

Picking up self from car to trudge back inside for next shift. Sorry for the hasty part. More tomorrow!

NEW HERE: Needs of the Other 18B/20

[dr_libra_phd]

Argh....(not the fic, my life, lol) See below if interested.

But first...the fic!


———————————————-
Part 18B
———————————————-

(Yusuf)

Somewhere outside of Alexandria, 12th century




“Not like that,” Yusuf groaned. “Again.”

The iron bar, a former axle for one of the melon carts that was beyond repair, sailed in a perfect arc.

But hands slick with sweat could not hold and it spun towards Nicolo’s head.

Nicolo hugged the little girl who trailed behind him and threw them to the ground.

The iron bar kept spinning over their heads. Until it buried itself into the sand filled barrels the villagers stacked by Yusuf’s horse.

The beast screeched in outrage.

“Not my fault!” Yusuf bellowed, not turning around. He fixed his glare at Izem and the mill owner’s two sons.

Standing in the flat dried dirt in front of the baker’s home, the three youths gaped back.

“Nicolo?” Yusuf asked tersely as he tamped down the urge to shout.

“We are fine, are we not, Karânî?”

The little girl tucked under Nicolo giggled.

Nicolo prodded the girl to find her siblings. She skipped around Yusuf and his three pupils with a small sachet of sugared figs in her tiny fist and what looked like meal rolled within an aubergine in her mouth.

“Nicolo.” Yusuf gestured to the three to continue to practice their swings, this time with old wooden sticks instead. “Was that not your lunch?”

Nicolo made a mild face, a hand over his stomach as if it was swollen rather than still despairingly sunken.

“Any more food and I will burst. Izem’s mother fed us bread. Shah’s grandmother insisted we eat a bowl of her mutton and koskos—“

“Kuskus,” Yusuf corrected absentmindedly.

“They did not have to pay us,” Nicolo murmured as he sidled up to Yusuf.

“They are not,” Yusuf returned. He glanced over catching the shadows cast on Nicolo’s eyes. “The people here know we would not accept their coin. They only wish to show us their thanks.”

Nicolo nodded. He scoffed under his breath.

“What is it?” Yusuf covered his face when one of the youths tripped over the other. The three tumbled to the ground.

“Any more of their thanks,” Nicolo said ruefully, “We will need a cart to take me home.”

Yusuf shook his head, chuckling. “I was not the one who had a second helping. Although, I am offended you did not show the same enthusiasm over mine last week.”

Nicolo glanced sideways at Yusuf. “Shah’s grandmother made me aware it is not suppose to look green.”

Yusuf beamed. “Was it not imaginative?”

“Very, to the point of unbelievable,” Nicolo said wryly. He neatly avoided Yusuf’s elbow, hopping back but staying close.

Nicolo watched the three boys, barely men, as they tried to mimic what Yusuf showed them.

“Yusuf,” Nicolo murmured, his brow knitting.

“I know,” Yusuf exhaled. What is the point of teaching them how to swing a sword when there are none to spare?

“It has been only two days,” Nicolo offered. “They are much improved?”

Yusuf fought back the grimace he wanted to make. When he suggested teaching some of the young men how to defend themselves, they both expected something that fell short to what they hoped.

“Most of the able took to the seas for work. Those who remain can throw nets by the sea but can barely lift my sword much less yours.” Izem was the only one among the three with some experience, having worked on rocky ships since he was ten. But the mill owner’s two sons would not reach twenty for another year or so.

“As impossible as it seems,” Yusuf muttered, “Our Izem is the oldest and the best of our humble defense.”

Yusuf caught Nicolo gazing around him with open worry. He wished he had not said anything.

“It has been a week since Hedi died by our feet,” Yusuf said low. He rolled his eyes at his pupils. His voice rose to get their attention. “The left one—no, his left!”

To Nicolo, Yusuf added, “Hedi’s men may not know to look here. Or they are without direction with Hedi not returning.” Yusuf scrubbed his face with a hand. “If only we found more than three.”

“I spoke with the metal smith before,” Nicolo said, his eyes tracking Izem as he veered away from a blow with far too many flaws. “He has some axes that he was paid to sharpen, but his customers agree to contribute to the village’s defense. They are lighter than our swords.”

Yusuf grimaced. “Dull axes on unskilled hands are more a danger to themselves than to their enemy,” he sighed. He eyed Nicolo. “I wondered what took so long. I was about to go find you.”

Hearing himself, Yusuf hastily cleared his throat. “I mean, I did not, I wanted to—“

“I know.” Nicolo shifted his foot closer, his boot pressing into the side of Yusuf’s boot before pulling back. “I also had an idea I wanted to discuss with some of the stall sellers.”

Yusuf studied Nicolo’s profile, his expression distant.

“It was fine?” Yusuf knew none were merchants, only villagers trying to earn a bit of coin, but Nicolo had been reluctant to linger by their stalls in the past.

Nicolo’s boot pressed against Yusuf’s again.

“It was fine,” Nicolo said. “We spoke of what they have on hand to use as defense should they are caught unaware. It...it was a good discussion.”

Yusuf ached at how relieved Nicolo sounded. He wanted to loop his arm around Nicolo’s middle. Instead, he copied Nicolo, his boot brushing along Nicolo’s. But instead of pulling back after, Yusuf leaned into Nicolo’s ear.

“When we get home, I will do my very best to make you scream like you did before,” Yusuf murmured. He hooked a finger into the loop that was attached to the longsword. He tugged once before stepping away.

Nicolo coughed, loud enough, Izem and the others looked up in concern.

“Let us stop here,” Yusuf boomed, “we will rest, yea? Will someone get my friend some water? He seems rather warm under the s—“

Yusuf yelped when Nicolo firmly stepped in Yusuf’s toes.

Behind Yusuf, the horse burst out into snorts and snickers.

--------------------------------
It's US Thanksgiving next week. Yes, I forgot how crazy it gets the week before. All the houses around me were putting up Christmas lights so I had zero mental prep for the onslaught of homework, papers and my family's holiday celebrations and the craziness of the week before Thanksgiving.

Part C to follow in an hour. Need a bit of time to review my paper before hitting "Send" And yes, it's more Yusuf because there are certain promises to be made. Hee.

NEW HERE: Needs of the Other 18C/20

[dr_libra_phd]

You didn't think I was just going to leave them there, huh? LOL.

———————————————-
Part 18C
———————————————-

(Yusuf)

Somewhere outside of Alexandria, 12th century




“Ah, my heart,” Yusuf mumbled. “That last one nearly shook off our new door. I would be impressed were not it took us such labor to install the door.”

"Would not have taken so long," Nicolo yawned, "Had you not drop the mallet on your foot."

"I would not have dropped it had those hens stayed in their pen, not under my foot," Yusuf scoffed. He kissed the top of Nicolo’s head rested over his heart.

"It also would not have taken so long if we had not stayed to help them finish filling the barrels with sand," Yusuf returned. "But it was a good idea. A wall of some kind would provide protection to some." If only there were more barrels. Or more able hands. Or even more axes.

"We need to help them." Nicolo appeared content to stay draped half over Yusuf. Yusuf was more than happy to obliged.

"And we will," Yusuf exhaled. "I only wish I knew for certain it would be enough."

"Is it not enough," Nicolo mumbled into Yusuf's chest, "that we want to help?"

"Hobi," Yusuf whispered. He brushed a hand down Nicolo's nape and traced the curve of his spine. "My beautiful hobi."

Nicolo idly rubbed his cheek over Yusuf's nipple and went back to listening to Yusuf's heart.

"It is like music," Nicolo muttered. He did not seem to realize he said it out loud. Which made Yusuf all the more want to pull Nicolo into a fierce embrace.

"It sings only to you," Yusuf murmured. He slipped his fingers through Nicolo’s hair, still damp from their bath. He rubbed slow circles down the line of Nicolo's back.

Every so often, Yusuf's fingers encountered the faint indent of old white lines, cut before their strange condition, before they knew each other, before everything.

Yusuf's fond smile dimmed. It pained Yusuf, in an echo of whenever he thought about Dirar. No matter how many times he marveled at the privilege to touch Nicolo this way, the texture of Nicolo's tender life before Yusuf made his heart ache like it cradled an open would.

"If only," Yusuf murmured out loud as he continued to smooth gentle palms down Nicolo's back. He wished he had the magic to polish old wounds away. But Nicolo did not need that. He somehow came through as bright as the brightest stone Yusuf ever saw.

"Hm?" Nicolo yawned. He was no longer hoarse, but sadly, too spent to share Yusuf's renewed enthusiasm.

Speaking of which...

"Yusuf," Nicolo grumbled drowsily as such example of Yusuf's revived vigor currently pressed into Nicolo's belly.

"Pay no mind to it, hobi," Yusuf murmured, his hand curling around Nicolo's nape. He rubbed at the soft wisps of hair along the hairline and threaded his fingers again through damp strands to check for tangles.

"I will deal with it later," Yusuf went on. "I loathed leaving you just yet."

"Then do not leave." Nicolo rested his chin on Yusuf's chest so his eyes could meet his. "Stay. I could..." A thought flitted across Nicolo's face.

"Or you could," Nicolo mumbled.

Yusuf blinked. "Eh?"

Nicolo's ears pinked and the lovely shade distracted Yusuf until he attached it with Nicolo's words.

"You...oh..." Now it was Yusuf's turn to flush. He cleared his throat. "You wish to watch me while I..."

"I could not stop thinking about it," Nicolo rasped. "After we...when you asked me to meet you by the stream. You did not know I was there. You had took hold of yourself and..."

Nicolo's throat worked.

"You seem to take pleasure in seeing when I..." Nicolo's eyes slid to a spot past Yusuf's shoulder. "It was just a thought."

Yusuf's mouth was dry yet his skin elsewhere prickled with sweat at the thought of those ever-deep eyes on him as he coaxed his own pleasure out, Nicolo's name pursed on his lips.

"Sit up," Yusuf rasped. He tracked Nicolo as he sat up against the wall. Yusuf smiled encouraging at Nicolo's wide eyes even though he himself felt his heart thundering against his chest. It was different when it was within the throes or within the quiet hours and dusky shadows. But on purpose? Just this?

"Wait," Yusuf croaked, before Nicolo moved too far away. "I have a request."

"Anything," Nicolo shuffled closer to Yusuf.

Yusuf locked gazes with Nicolo.

"Tell me."

Nicolo canted his head.

Yusuf's lips curled at a corner, his voice dropping.

"Tell me what you want me to do. And I will show you."

And there. Nicolo's mouth parted, in a breathy, "Oh" as his eyes swirled. They were gems of a sea, blue yet also everything else, as if the sky surrendered into Nicolo and offered the night sky as well.

Unable to speak, Nicolo nodded. He looked dazed, his throat moving as he gulped. But no words, no. Nicolo was speechless, but hopefully not for too long.

Yusuf wished he could be casual as if he knew exactly how he should sit, but in truth, too many questions spun in his mind.

Should he sprawl with his legs spread--no, that would look too obscene. Lying on his side--hm, awkward, he may roll off the bed. On his back? No, he wanted to watch Nicolo watch him. On his kne--no, absolutely not for either of them. Sitting on his heels? Hm, that may prove tricky on the bed. Standing? No that would surely look strange.

In the end, Yusuf copied Nicolo, sitting with his knees folded cross-legged, his back to the wall, angled so his left knee touched Nicolo's right. They studied each other silently.

Yusuf's eyebrow rose in challenge.

"Would it be easier if you speak in lingua?" Yusuf teased. "You still struggle with Greek and Arabic."

Nicolo's eyes narrowed at the taunt. His shoulders relaxed as he considered Yusuf.

"Touch yourself," Nicolo murmured. He tsked when Yusuf reached down. "But loosely. No. Looser."

Yusuf's fingers barely grazed over his erection as he curled his hand around it. He carefully rolled his hips, grazing heated skin into his palm.

"No," Nicolo spoke up, his voice low and soft. "You can not do that. Just...hold it."

Yusuf stared at Nicolo. "Just..." He swallowed and spread his fingers wider. He could only feel the heat of his cock, licking warm tendrils at the fleshy part of his palm.

"This does not count as touching," Yusuf managed. Nicolo's gaze on his fist and cock was intense and unwavering.

"You can touch yourself," Nicolo whispered, "with your thumb."

Yusuf exhaled as he pressed his thumb down the length of his cock.

"Stop," Nicolo whispered. "Pull your thumb away."

Yusuf bit the inside of his cheek from groaning. The touch was too brief of a relief. His cock ached for the pressure.

"Now a finger. Just one," Nicolo added when Yusuf tried to form a ring with his thumb and finger.

Yusuf's arm shook trying to steer his hand to obey.

"You can use two fingers now."

Yusuf almost sigh in relief as the loop formed by his fingers glided over his cock.

"Another."

It was not enough to make a strong grip, but the pressure of the fingers felt wonderful.

"One more," Nicolo whispered. "You can use your hand, no, wait, not too tight."

It was a relief to touch yet unsatisfying as his hand only skimmed over his cock, the heat of his erection licking at his skin.

"Nicolo," Yusuf rumbled. "Tell me to come. Please."

Nicolo made a quiet sound.

"No," Nicolo breathed.

"N-no?" Yusuf wanted to weep. His hand was a brush over his skin, pulled too tight and warmed too hot.

"No," Nicolo repeated. His voice went thick and smooth like silk.

"I forbid it."

It felt like Nicolo's voice itself curled around Yusuf's cock. Yusuf's breath caught, his hand skimming up and down his cock. It felt like a breeze; hot winds blowing across an even hotter desert. Woeful comfort, but was still desperately craved for.

Yusuf whimpered. He could not help it. His hand picked up speed despite its unsatisfying friction. His left leg drew up, his heated face resting on a sweaty thigh as he continued to brush over his erection with weak strokes.

"You can curl tighter--no, not that tight. Yes, like that."

Yusuf groaned at the grip, a tantalizing promise. His cock twitched, needing more to release, but no, no, he can not. Nicolo did not say so.

"Hob--please. Tell me," Yusuf panted. His right leg twitched, threatening to kick out. His body shrank around his cock, weeping from neglect, burning with the hint of his hand and want of its friction.

"Pull your hand away."

Yusuf bit his lower lip. He will not beg and yet a whine seeped out of clamped lips as he released his cock. It felt too engorged, too large for his body.

"Lie down," Nicolo said softly, steel in his voice yet rolling and lilting in a way Yusuf could never refuse.

"This will be my death," Yusuf wheezed as he eased down to the bed. His limbs shook. His cock bounced boldly between his legs, dark and bruised looking from neglect.

Yusuf kept his left leg drawn up, exposing his need to Nicolo, unable to stop himself from the breathy, choked sounds escaping his mouth. Nicolo's eyes swept over him, his gaze dark and purposeful.

But Nicolo did not reach. Nicolo did not touch.

Yusuf's breathing was harsh in his ears, a strange gasp dragged over his ribs. He sounded desperate. He sounded frantic. And yet Nicolo would do nothing.

"My heart," Yusuf plead at last. "Please..."

Nicolo approached, on his hands and knees, silent, expression blank. He bore all the alertness of a desert cat stalking prey as he settled to hunch between Yusuf's legs. He sat there, framed by Yusuf's knees, both drawn up in hope.

"There is a dish of oil by your head," Nicolo suddenly said. His eyes stayed on Yusuf. "For you."

Yusuf stared up at Nicolo. "You do not wish to do it?"

Nicolo's lips lifted up at the corners. "I only want to watch."

Yusuf groaned, but reached for the oil. His fingers shook and some spilled onto their thin mattress. He grumbled, jokingly called Nicolo cruel, but could not help but groan in relief as he wrapped a slick hand around himself.

His cock seemed to leap in his grip as his fingers curled tighter, his thumb flicking at the beaded tip.

Yusuf's pace was hurried, spurred on by the glow in Nicolo's eyes. He felt his hips rolling up, thrusting into his grip. Heat build low in his belly, tightening his lower back, but--Oh, it was not enough.

Nicolo settled careful palms on Yusuf's inner thighs. The hands did not move nor did they grasp. They stayed on top of the tender skin, light and warm, as Yusuf pumped his erection, choking and whimpering as he fought for release.

"Nicolo," Yusuf gasped. "Please...I can not...P-please..."

Nicolo said nothing. He kept watching.

The oil warmed over Yusuf's cock. He sped up, his hips slapping up and noisily into his fist. The oil gleamed on Yusuf's skin yet it was not enough.

"My heart," Yusuf stammered. "I b-beg of you..."

With a rough sound, Nicolo pushed Yusuf's hand away and swallowed Yusuf in a single breath.

Yusuf shouted, his voice cracking with a mix of relief and shock. He slipped down into Nicolo's throat without pause. He moaned but that too was cut off when slick fingers slipped under his buttocks.

"Yes," Yusuf nearly sobbed, "Please..." He hitched up his hips off the bed, felt himself sliding even deeper into a delicious heat just as Nicolo's fingertip massaged his rimmed entrance.

Yusuf heard himself babbling, drowning in the sparks of light behind his eyes. Nicolo's finger slipped in, as sure as his own scimitar sliding into its sheath. He begged, his ass clenching around Nicolo's finger until a second carefully breached him.

The bed creaked as Nicolo stayed knelt between Yusuf's legs, cheeks hollowed as he sucked. His fingers, long, blunt and simply glorious, darted faster within Yusuf like a sculptor carving Yusuf out of stone, gifting him shape. Each stroke lanced over the perfect spot repeatedly, there was no time or breath to shriek at its wonderful accuracy.

"Oh, oh," Yusuf moaned. "Yes, there, there..."

His heels dug into the mattress, striking the wood underneath. Nicolo's lips pursed tight around the base of Yusuf's cock, squeezing, squeezing, his fingers now three, moving with an ease that would have made Yusuf blush.

His entire body felt too hot as his hips jerked up off the mattress, higher, helplessly, thrusting frantically into Nicolo's mouth.

...his fingers, his mouth, his eyes fixed on Yusuf's. They never left. They echoed what Yusuf has lately growled into Nicolo's skin.

Mine.

The bed cracked under Yusuf's fist. His heels skidded to stay rooted under Nicolo's mouth. His hips slammed up too hard and Nicolo gagged, but refused to pull free.

Mine, sea gray eyes said.

Mine.

Yusuf threw his head back and his mouth fell open as he came.

There felt a moment of nothingness, a sandstorm wrapped around Yusuf's being. He laid there, his cheeks and beard damp with tears, the soreness and fullness in his ass regretfully gone and the quiet slurping sounds of Nicolo milking Yusuf dry of every drop.

Yusuf whined, was aware he was whining, but could not care when Nicolo parted his lips and Yusuf's spent cock slipped out.

Nicolo rested his chin on Yusuf's thigh. He studied Yusuf, his eyes unreadable.

With ill ease, Yusuf remembered feeling Nicolo gag around his cock. He opened his mouth to croak an apology when Nicolo slowly smiled.

"You screamed."

Yusuf blinked at Nicolo. And frowned.

"I did not." Yusuf tugged one of his ears, but the gesture was exhausting and his hand flopped to the bed.

"And you broke the bed," Nicolo observed when Yusuf's hand dipped into the depression on the mattress.

Yusuf glared red-rimmed up at Nicolo.

"The bed broke because of shoddy workmanship."

"You built the bed," Nicolo pointed out. He smirked into Yusuf's leg when Yusuf's mouth snapped shut.

Yusuf dropped his head back. He could not help but grin though. Nicolo was certainly bolder now, in a way Yusuf looked forward to.

"What?" Nicolo asked suspiciously.

Yusuf raised his head up and smirked at Nicolo presently draped over his leg, rutting his own erection along Yusuf's calf.

"Just planning for my revenge," Yusuf said.

Nicolo stilled. His eyes narrowed.

Yusuf burst out laughing. He almost knocked into Nicolo.

"Now you truly look like a disgruntled ca--All right, all right." Yusuf snickered as Nicolo tackled him.

They wrestled briefly, grapples that gentled and soon, they were curled into each other, flushed and exhausted.

"Yusuf," Nicolo murmured. He pulled his ear away from Yusuf's heart. He gazed up with serious eyes.

Yusuf's thumb wiped over Nicolo's lower lip, catching the shimmer of his swallowed release.

"I know," Yusuf murmured. "I think you are ready, too." He sighed as he felt Nicolo wrap his arms tighter around him. Yusuf held Nicolo as close as their bodies allowed.

"I think we are both ready, hobi."
----------------

.......sooooo, I'll see you Thursday? (Ducking at the thrown apples) Zoom presentation tomorrow. Unless someone wants to present my Microbubbles and Ultrasound paper? No? Damn. LOL.

NEW HERE: Needs of the Other 18D/20

[dr_libra_phd]

Yesterday, I learned about pacing, (LOL) so some certain things got rearranged, no sex here in this part, folks. Just mush. Sorry.

———————————————-
Part 18D
———————————————-

(Nicolo)

Somewhere outside of Alexandria, 12th century




“No, you had enough,” Nicolo said as he frowned. “Do you not think you are asking for too much?”

Brown eyes stared up unblinking.

Nicolo set his jaw.

“No,” Nicolo repeated, firmer.

He could see himself in those eyes. They seemed brighter the longer they gazed up at him in a silent plea.

Shoulders slumping, Nicolo sighed.

“Just this once,” Nicolo warned as he bent down.

A chuckle reached Nicolo’s ears.

“You say that each time.”

Nicolo glared over his shoulder at Yusuf leaning against the house. Yusuf decided to pull up sleep trousers, but wrapped the blanket around his bare torso instead of pulling on his tunic.

“You complain I woke you when I rose to feed the chickens and yet here you are,” Nicolo complained as he reached for the bucket by his feet. He scooped a small amount of seed into a hand. He turned back and blinked.

All three hens were by his feet.

Yusuf chuckled again. “See what you have wrought? You have spoiled them. It is a miracle they can still walk about. I would think you were fattening them up for a meal than for eggs.”

Nicolo looked down at the birds peering hopefully up at him and his hand.

“They looked hungry,” Nicolo said weakly as he cast out the seeds in a low arc so they would not have to totter far. One loitered long enough to affectionately peck his sandal before chasing after the others for its share.

Arms wrapped around Nicolo’s middle from behind.

“They are chickens, hobi,” Yusuf murmured into the crook of Nicolo’s left shoulder. “They always look hungry.”

Nicolo leaned into Yusuf’s searching mouth.

“Is this why you insist on feeding me so much?” Nicolo asked. He turned his head, but Yusuf was now nibbling down the line of his other shoulder.

“I always look hungry?” Nicolo turned towards that shoulder, but Yusuf went back to his left shoulder again.

“Yes,” Yusuf said too seriously. “You look like I have never fed you.”

“I have always looked like this. I can feed myself,” Nicolo retorted. He canted his head back to the left. “I have since I was a chi—will you hold still?”

Nicolo huffed, exasperated when Yusuf’s lips went back to his right shoulder. Yusuf snickered as his lips skimmed up to under Nicolo’s ear, darting away when Nicolo turned that way.

“Yusuf,” Nicolo grumbled. He twisted around to face Yusuf instead.

With a snort, Yusuf loosened his grip so Nicolo could turn. He tugged the blanket over his shoulders to cover Nicolo’s as well.

“Mm, morning, my Nicolo,” Yusuf murmured. His beard tickled Nicolo’s chin as he dropped small kisses on Nicolo’s cheeks.

“Morning?” Nicolo scoffed. “The sun is up. We should break fast and head into the village.”

“The sun has only risen. The sky is yet to reflect the blue of your eyes! Come back to bed. There is time for many things besides food.”

Yusuf always said the oddest things.

“My eyes are not blue,” Nicolo muttered, but he did not step away. Yusuf’s blanket was warm and comfortable around him. “My eyes are a dull gray that poorly reflects the sky.”

“Hobi,” Yusuf murmured. He picked at a corner of the blanket. He smiled with a tinge of sorrow Nicolo did not understand. Yusuf brushed a thumb under Nicolo’s eye. He turned, Nicolo now under his arm, the blanket still draped over both of them.

“I should check the nets,” Nicolo reminded Yusuf, who took the feed bucket before Nicolo could. He found himself steered towards their dwelling. “Yusuf...”

Yusuf hung the bucket out of reach of the hens on a peg. “We can check later.”

“We should head to the village when there is more daylight. I know it has been two weeks, but the village is still—“

“We will, but food first. No, bed first and then food.”

Nicolo huffed, grumbling under his breath. But then Yusuf tugged Nicolo against his side, his body warm, solid and smelling somehow of sleep.

“We do not have time,” Nicolo sighed even as he hunched into the shelter of the blanket and Yusuf’s arm.

Yusuf’s lips brushed over Nicolo’s temples.

“We do have time,” Yusuf murmured into Nicolo’s hair. “All the time in the world and I want to savor each moment. We will make time, my heart. Yea?”

Nicolo slowly nodded. As soon as they opened the door, he turned into Yusuf’s eager mouth.

Yusuf tasted of mint tea. His hands were soft as they slipped under Nicolo’s tunic. The blanket was tossed over their heads and into their bed.

Nicolo sank into Yusuf’s embrace, trusting Yusuf would not let him fall as he was walked backwards to their bed. He smoothed hands over the hair over the shape of Yusuf's chest. It never ceases to intrigue him how the dark hairs sprung up against his fingers, how thick and soft they grew in the shallow valley of his muscles, how Yusuf's nipples flushed and hardened yet felt smooth under his fingers.

The growing damp spot in the front of Yusuf’s trousers promised little sleep. And there was much to do before they return to the village. The barrels needed to be filled. Izem's footwork needed to be quicker. Some of the stalls were still reluctant to hide weapons within their spaces, not believing in the danger.

But Yusuf’s hands swept over his body, letting his warmth seep into Nicolo’s skin. His fingers kneaded the spaces between the knots of his spine, sending heat flooding in the bottom of his belly.

If they were quick, maybe there would be—yes, Yusuf was right, they can make time. There is time for—

When Nicolo’s legs struck their pallet, he automatically sat down. And when he sat on the bed, he realized he was not because he was...sinking?

Nicolo yelped, flailed and sprang back up to his feet.

Yusuf startled, stumbling back when Nicolo collided against his chest.

“What?” Nicolo turned around, but there was not a hole in their bed as he expected, but a thick padding he recognized was what Yusuf worked on for weeks.

Yusuf shook against him. He tried to stifle his laughter, but it burst free the moment Nicolo tentatively reached behind him and gave the bed a poke.

“What...” Yusuf could barely speak around his mirth. “What did you think it was?”

“I thought there was a hole,” Nicolo said weakly.

Yusuf sputtered, failing miserably to repeat what Nicolo said. Now Nicolo was the one holding him up.

“I felt myself falling,” Nicolo grumbled. He eyed Yusuf and added, “I thought you broke the bed again.”

Sure enough, Yusuf’s chuckles dried up. He glowered at Nicolo.

“I did not break the bed.”

“The hole was nearly the size of my fist,” Nicolo reminded Yusuf. “It took us two days to find a plank to fix the bed.”

Yusuf grumbled under his breath. His cheer returned. He turned Nicolo back to the bed.

“What do you think?” Yusuf murmured into Nicolo’s ear from behind. He wrapped his arms around Nicolo’s chest. He clasped their hands together.

Yusuf was taller than Nicolo. Not by much although there were times Yusuf felt like a mountain in comparison. In truth, it meant Yusuf fitted into Nicolo, their bodies tucked into each curve and angle. Nothing could get in-between them.

Like right now, Yusuf’s chest seemed to seal against Nicolo’s shoulders. His groin, his cock, pressed into the curve of Nicolo's lower back. Yusuf’s chin, his soft beard, the round tip of his nose slotted against Nicolo’s nape perfectly.

They were two halves of a whole, Nicolo thought as Yusuf tucked Nicolo against him. Yusuf started to sway and Nicolo moved with him.

“The bed?” Yusuf prodded, pulling Nicolo from his thoughts.

Nicolo studied the pallet and its thick padding.

“It is thicker,” Nicolo allowed, “But when I sat down, I sank. I was sure I would fall to the floor.”

“Ah, Nicolo,” Yusuf chuckled by Nicolo’s ear. “It is like sleeping on a cloud, rocked by waves of softness, swaying and floating as if you were flying.”

“It sounds alarming,” Nicolo confessed. “Did I tell you I can get seasick?” The first week on the ship, crammed with others, Nicolo was sick for days, too ill to protest when others took his bowl of gruel and discussed who would take what belongings after he was dead. He did not die. But others did from rancid meat or seasickness later in their journey to war.

“It will not make you sick,” Yusuf chuckled, but his jest was not cruel. He continued to sway them both on their feet, shifting left to right and back.

“It will spare you the discomfort of your lower back,” Yusuf murmured. His arms tightened around Nicolo. “When I ease into you.”

Nicolo blinked. “Oh. You do not wish me on my hands and knees then?”

Yusuf hugged Nicolo even tighter. “I wish to see you when we make love.”

Nicolo dropped his head back. At this height, it was awkward to rest his head on Yusuf’s shoulder, but this way, he could see Yusuf’s mouth and the curled lashes that graced Yusuf’s smiling eyes.

“I would like to see you as well,” Nicolo said. He liked how Yusuf called it, what they will do. He squeezed Yusuf’s hands around him. “I would like that very much.”

“I kept some of our catches.” Yusuf rubbed his nose into Nicolo’s hair. “And bartered the meat and some of the pelts in exchange.”

Nicolo mourned the loss of Yusuf’s heat along his back when he pulled free. He sat down by the table and watched as Yusuf pulled out what looked like a long roll wrapped in burlap from under their pallet. Yusuf sat down on their bed.

“Exchange for what? I presume this is not a new sword?” Nicolo said as Yusuf cut off the strings that bound the roll together.

“I do not need a new sword,” Yusuf scoffed. “I got something I thought you and I need.”

Nicolo’s eyebrow rose when Yusuf let the roll unfurl across the bed. The sheen of fur rippled out in a long dark blanket that covered most of the pallet.

“There was not enough pelts but I had the softest ones stitched together.” Yusuf smoothed a palm over the combined furs. Light caught under Yusuf’s hand. The furs gleamed.

Yusuf captured Nicolo's hand and tugged him closer.

Nicolo gingerly sat on the edge of their bed. He could see Yusuf's amusement when Nicolo pressed down a palm into the padding, jerking his hand back when it sank.

The furs felt like water slipping between Nicolo's fingers. He tried to identify the creatures who gave them these furs, but he could not. Yusuf remembered each one though. He will ask Yusuf later.

"It feels soft," Nicolo admitted. "I do not think I have felt anything like this." He dimly remembered one of the priests that once visited the monastery. He had unpleasant eyes and smiled too broadly at some of the children. He owned a cloak with a fur collar that he invited the children to sit on his lap and touch. Nicolo did not. It was white, but it did not glint or look like it felt gentle as the one that lay between him and Yusuf.

“I would have you on top of folds of the finest silk, slick with the sweetest oils if I could,” Yusuf rasped. His eyes appeared almost as dark as night as he stared at Nicolo.

“I would have you resting in a magnificent room, in a magnificent palace, belly full of the finest foods before I open you up slow and careful, coax your body to accept me.”

Yusuf grimaced sadly at the bed. He patted the pelts.

“But at best, I hope warm food and a bed gentle on your back and soft against your skin would suffice.”

Nicolo’s throat worked. “Yusuf, I...” He stared at the fur. He considered Yusuf’s fingers currently stroking the pelts. He warmed, thinking of later and those same fingers stroking him inside deep, intimate places.

“I was your first,” Yusuf said, “And while I have had before you, these moments with you are the most precious to me. I want to join you in heart and in flesh and I want to show you...to promise you...”

Yusuf caressed the fur, but his eyes were on Nicolo.

“...that you will be my last, Nicolo di Genova,” Yusuf croaked. “There will be no other. There can be no other. As I have you, you will have me forever.”

Nicolo smiled, tried, but his face felt strange. Like it was not sure if it wanted to twist into joy or crumble into weeping for relief. He closed his eyes. There was too much in him to think straight.

“Nicolo?” Yusuf was now crouched by Nicolo’s side. He gazed up, warm brown eyes and gentle mouth.

Yusuf felt like he was as big as a mountain again. Nicolo struggled for words, something would match the enormity of Yusuf’s generosity.

“The...the same,” Nicolo choked out. Inside, he was appalled. The same? It was all the words he could think of in return?

Nicolo roughly shook his head.

“I am an idiot. I am sorry. The same? I should have the words you deserve and all I can thin—the same?”

“You and I, hobi,” Yusuf said. He rose to his feet and stepped in closer. His hip brushed over Nicolo’s shoulder.

“Remember? There is no need for anything else.”

“You and I,” Nicolo whispered. He dropped his head against Yusuf’s stomach. He sighed. Yusuf slipped a hand over the back of his head.

“I do not need silk,” Nicolo mumbled into Yusuf’s stomach, “I do not need the softest bed. I do not need the finest foods. The finest thing I could ever want is you.”

Nicolo tipped his head up. His eyes felt gritty. Yusuf blurred above him like an unattainable vision.

“And somehow I have you,” Nicolo said, “As you have me. You will be my first. You will also be my last, for I do not need another. You and I.”

“And you said you did not have the words,” Yusuf said thickly. He ran fingers down Nicolo’s hair.

“Tonight,” Yusuf said. His fingers gathered Nicolo’s hair and squeezed the strands curled in his grasp.

“Tonight, let us lay on this bed and make our promises of forever to each other. Hm? What do you say, my heart?”

“You and I,” Nicolo murmured.

Yusuf kissed the top of Nicolo’s head.


--------------------------

I forgot November was the month of feasting for me and family. Last weekend and the upcoming Thanksgiving?! Oh boy. Thank goodness I get Black Friday off. True, I could have used the OT, but the day to digest after Thursday is welcomed, too. LOL.

Please note: I'm anti-fur, however, 12th century resources are what they are. There weren't malls out there--OMG, can you imagine our boys encountering the first mall? Hee.

More in a few hours. I go be an adult now. Reluctantly. LOL.

NEW HERE: Needs of the Other 18E/20

[dr_libra_phd]

Yusuf's turn!


———————————————-
Part 18E
———————————————-

(Yusuf)

Somewhere outside of Alexandria, 12th century




“Wait here.”

Yusuf’s hands stilled on the reins. He looked over his shoulder at Nicolo, who lingered in front of the baker's house.

“Did we forget something?” Yusuf eyed the baskets on either side of the horse’s harness. The bread and cheese still filled the air with their warm scents. And he remembered slipping the packages of dates and dried meats in the other basket along with the little package Izem offered to get for him while Yusuf patrolled the village with Nicolo.

Nicolo looked discomforted, his hand on his sword hilt, his feet apart. He appeared he was prepared to run, to where, Yusuf did not know. He only hoped it was a place Yusuf was permitted to follow.

“I have something with the metal smith,” Nicolo explained. He fidgeted. “But I forgot as we were moving the barrels to set by the mill’s part of the stream.”

It was Nicolo’s idea to fortify the mill. It stood between the shores and the land as the outermost boundary. The structure was large enough to hide the elderly and women if they were under siege. They could escape the village by following the stream up to their dwelling and beyond.

The villagers grumbled, but many begrudgingly helped Yusuf and Nicolo fill the barrels with sand and roll them to create a wall that ran along the mill and part of the stream.

If there were more barrels, Yusuf preferred they made the wall two rows thick and stacked above their heads. But it was all they have until the fishermen return from Alexandria’s ships with more.

“The metal smith was across the mill,” Yusuf mused out loud. He eyed Nicolo. “If you had business with the smith, you could have left. We were fine. You could have rejoined us later.”

Nicolo’s thumb ran along his lower lip.

“Yes, that is true,” Nicolo mumbled. He gave Yusuf a sheepish look through his lashes.

Yusuf bit back his smile. He folded his arms in front of him.

“Perhaps I should go with you,” Yusuf decided. He snickered at the panic Nicolo could not hide completely.

“Or not.” Yusuf thought of his package secreted under the meats and sack of dates. He pretended to sigh.

“Very well, I will wait rather impatiently by our horse, the sun descending behind us.”

“I will be quick.” Nicolo glanced up at the sky as well. He blinked when he discovered Yusuf now stood toe to toe with him.

Yusuf checked their surroundings. At this hour, the villagers gathered in the market to haggle with each other for the remaining wares.

“A reminder,” Yusuf murmured, “On why you should hasten your feet.”

Nicolo rolled his eyes, but his ears pinked. “Yes, I remember—“

Behind the melon cart, under the shadow of their horse, Yusuf crushed his lips over Nicolo’s. Yusuf swallowed Nicolo's surprised squeak that quickly turned into a moan when he deepened the kiss.

Yusuf's hands roamed, quickly, before someone walked by, kneading and gripping Nicolo’s buttocks, ran his thumbs over the ridges of Nicolo’s spine and shoved a leg between Nicolo’s, sighing as he pressed forward, inviting Nicolo to—

Yusuf felt the teeth snapping towards his ass just as Nicolo’s eyes widened at whatever he saw past Yusuf’s shoulder.

“You crazy beast!” Yusuf sputtered. He ran behind Nicolo, scowling at the horse over Nicolo’s head.

Nicolo chuckled as he stepped back from Yusuf. He brushed back his hair, patted his clothes and exhaled. The flush on his cheeks and neck remained.

“The longer you delay me, it will be too dark to walk home and we would have to trouble Izem and his mother for her floor once again—“ Nicolo scoffed as Yusuf nudged him towards the metal smith’s hut.

“Hasten,” Yusuf quipped, “if only to spare the horse the horrible fate I have in mind for it if I wait too long.”

Nicolo shook his head, a small private smile on his lips as he walked away.

Yusuf watched until he could watch no more. His eyes drifted back to the horse that stood far too close for Yusuf’s liking.

Yusuf glared at the beast. The beast stared back, unmoved. Then, its lips pulled back, it bared its teeth and chomped the air between them.

Yusuf bared his own teeth and snapped back.





Izem and the others made him feel old.

Only fair, Yusuf supposed. While he looked a man of over thirty, his years stretched beyond that. He was in his eighties now, already older than his father might have been.

A dull pang in Yusuf's chest reminded Yusuf he was not the only one who outlived his peers. And as he watched Izem and his two friends marched past in their own patrol, Yusuf wondered if Nicolo, too, felt the years. Izem, despite his jagged experiences at sea, was still young by mortal or immortal standards. Izem shook off his fascination with Nicolo and now appeared to hold many ideas on the village's future.

But Yusuf has seen villages rise and fall, whether by disease, violence or simply time. He wondered if Izem would feel the same ten years from now? Or twenty?

"Ah, hobi," Yusuf muttered under his breath. "My thoughts always go too dark with you not near. Hasten back, my heart."

Next to him, the horse snorted.

Yusuf rolled his eyes.

"And what comment do you have, beast? Or are you contemplating your next moment to attack?"

The horse stamped a foot and kicked its hind legs.

"Aye, aye. Do not spill the baskets, you wretched creature." Yusuf grumbled as he removed the baskets from the harness. "I have many plans for these. Especially these dates. They are his favorite." Yusuf peered into the bin to be certain they fared well. "They will sweeten his lips and--"

Yusuf growled as the horse's hind foot nearly connected with something sensitive.

"This is why I have not named you," Yusuf sputtered. He veered away from the horse's reach. "I am torn from the many ill-tempered names that would suit you."

Yusuf set the baskets by the side of the baker's house.

"My old horse was far more better tempered than you," Yusuf grumbled when he returned. "And it outraced any desert horse! Would have certainly best you and your short stumpy legs." He kept an eye on the path Nicolo would return on. "Barb horse. Magnificent warrior. Fought alongside with me outside the walls of Antio--"

Yusuf abruptly cleared his throat. His black horse perished underneath him when a staff cut through its belly. He fell but his poor horse valiantly tried to rise until Nicolo stilled it with a swift blow of his sword.

At the time, Yusuf did not realize it was out of mercy. Grief and rage sent him forth, his sword high to clash with Nicolo's. And the battle shrank to the two of them for days.

The horse whinnied. It turned its narrow head towards the house.

"Ah ha, you wanted to eat what was in the basket, did you?"

Yusuf shook a finger at the horse. To his surprise, though, the horse did not try to bite it. He frowned at the horse. The horse stamped a hoof, then another. It snorted, blowing wind across Yusuf's curls.

Yusuf cautiously patted its bay coat.

The horse's black mane flicked out like a whip.

Yusuf frowned. No matter what horse, they always seemed more attuned.

"What is it mangy creature?" Yusuf muttered. He patted the horse's shoulder and felt it twitch under his palm again. He glanced up at its large eyes. He stilled.

"You want a bite? Yea?" Yusuf waved his left hand by the horse's muzzle. His right hand slowly reached behind him for his scimitar. "Not another sandstorm, I pray? I have many plans with Nicolo and I do not want to include a sandstorm. The places sand gets into are infuriating."

Reflected off the horse's eyes, Yusuf saw him: a man whose headdress and mask covered everything except his eyes. He crept out from around the other side of the house. He held a sword, as long as Yusuf's scimitar, as straight as Nicolo's longsword.

The horse nickered. It bumped its nose into Yusuf's shoulder.

"Eh? Eh?" Yusuf said loudly as he continued to watch the coward sneak up behind Yusuf. "That food is not for you! Have they not fed you enough chaff for four horses? I should hitch you to a cart after all, before your laziness makes you cumbersome and even more--"

The horse shrieked, rearing up on its hind legs.

Yusuf swore. The man was not close enough yet. He spun around to face the coward. Behind him, the horse screamed once more and another man shouted but abruptly silenced with sharp hooves and a squishy thump.

Yusuf's would-be attacker started at the sound. It was enough. Yusuf charged the man before him, his scimitar lashing out. Straight like a lance as he has seen Nicolo do, thrusting into the man before he has a chance to lift his own sword.

The man's hood muffled his dying cries, but Yusuf stood over him, panting as he watched the life die before he dared turn around.

Another man in similar dress laid by the horse's feet. Most of him, that is. The head was a smear the horse was currently trying to wipe off its hooves in the dirt.

He must have went around the horse, Yusuf realized. They were to attack him from both sides.

The horse snorted in disgust as it continued to scrape its bloodied hooves into the dirt. It looked over at Yusuf. Its ears wiggled.

Yusuf bristled. "I would have dealt with him."

The horse exhaled in a noisy and rather rude snort.

Yusuf frowned as he cleaned his blade on the other's attire. Were they scouts? Surely they did not think they could ransack the village with two?

The horse whined loud.

From afar, shouting rose.

Yusuf's eyes widened. They were coming by sea, by the mill, by the metal smith--

"No," Yusuf breathed. He tightened his grip on his scimitar, spun towards the direction of the shouting.

"Stay here," Yusuf barked, not caring if the horse truly understood or not. "If these men take you, they would work your miserable hide to the bon--"

The horse shrieked again, but this time its warning came too late. Yusuf tensed, expecting to see another coward's approach.

And felt the arrow punch through his chest and out his back.

As Yusuf fell forward, he heard the horse scream. He heard the village scream. What he did not hear was--

"Nicolo," Yusuf groaned as blood bubbled up to his lips.

Yusuf fell face forward into the dirt as the world around him fades.

---------------------

(Tomorrow? (ducking from the apples thrown her way)

NEW HERE: Needs of the Other 18F/20

[dr_libra_phd]

(wheeze as I climb over textbooks, well, tablets, they're all e-texts just at the same $200+ price) How is it Friday already?!

———————————————-
Part 18F
———————————————-

(Nicolo)

Somewhere outside of Alexandria, 12th century




He wished his hand would not shake so much.

Nicolo took a deep breath and steadied his hand. He finished the final stroke. Done, he stepped back and studied what he has done with a critical eye. Hm, maybe he should add--

Too soon, the metal smith took it away and what little Nicolo had left to offer.

“Wait...” Nicolo’s shoulders slumped when he realized he spoke in Arabic instead of Greek. Too late, the stout metal smith was finishing behind a veil of steam, his hammer and tongs busy at work. He glanced up at Nicolo’s voice.

Nicolo held up his hands and shook his head. Nothing could be done about it now. He wished he dared slip away before to see the metal smith. It would have spared him delay as he would have spotted the error sooner.

Outside, the daylight was dimming and the shadows grew darker.

Nicolo gestured to the metal smith’s boy, a child of nine who was also the apprentice that he would wait outside. It would only take a few more minutes, but Nicolo worried Yusuf would come. That would ruin everything.

The mill cast a long shadow that reached the smith’s house and his dwelling behind it. Nicolo suppressed the sigh that wanted to break free when his eyes wandered towards the barrels that shielded half the mill from sight.

Nicolo knew from the small furrow between Yusuf’s brow that the other did not think the barrier was enough. It was not. But at least it gave others a chance. However, small. Even if only one survived, the wall was worth it.

The village was quieting as the full daylight seeped slowly into night. Nicolo glanced to his right, towards the shores and marveled at the colors that always came before the moon. The sun was a golden disc, blinding as it sank. The few fisherman still out in the water were returning. Their little boats rocked up and down as the waves brought them closer to shore.

Nicolo narrowed his eyes.

Where were their nets?

Nicolo’s eyes flicked to the small round boats on the shores, their pointy bottoms dug deep into the rocky sand. Five, there were five boats. It has always been five.

There are three more boats in the water.

Nicolo whipped around and rushed into the smith’s house. The little boy looked up from where he sat by the bellows. His eyes widened and his little feet scampered towards his father at Nicolo’s curt nod.

Without waiting to see if the smith understood, Nicolo grabbed the first villager who meandered by. It was the spice vendor. He squinted through his bushy gray eyebrows at Nicolo.

“They are here,” Nicolo said in as clear Greek as he could. Yusuf and him repeated the needed words every night after their meal.

Nicolo began to repeat it in lingua franca, but his first attempt was enough. The normally stooped seller straightened up as best he could and started shouting as he stumbled towards the market.

The sun was more than halfway down the sky, no longer blazing bright, but the damage has been done. Hedi’s men used the blinding light to cloak their approach, choosing the time when most villagers were clustered together in the market.

Word has spread and one shout became two. Then three.

Nicolo spared a glance towards the baker’s house. He thought of Yusuf. He knew Yusuf heard the shouting and would be here.

Shifa, the weaver’s daughter, stumbled in front of Nicolo.

“Go,” Nicolo instructed as he helped her to her feet. “To the mill with the others.”

“My mother.” Shifa was close to tears. “She was behind me.”

“Where?”

“The loom, in our stall—“

“Take her,” Nicolo instructed as a villager hesitated by them. To Shifa, “Go. I will find her.”

Nicolo did not wait for a reply. He nudged another villager towards the mill and ran for the market.





The boats have reached the shore, but there were three men already tearing through the stalls with their blades.

Nicolo spotted Izem and his friends pushing who they could towards the safety of the mill. Panic made people forgetful, places they have known all their lives suddenly a mystery. Those who are able had pulled the bars and axes hidden in their stalls to fight back. The three bandits grabbed what they could from the stalls, only to have the villagers fight for them back.

But there were more coming.

Nicolo shouted in Arabic, confusing the bandits a brief moment.

It was enough. It had to be.

Pushing past escaping villagers, Nicolo swung his sword towards the first man who recovered from his confusion.

Their swords have a shorter reach, but met Nicolo’s blade resolute and steady. Arming swords, Nicolo realized as he slashed across with his longsword before blades could point towards him. Two fell.

Behind Nicolo, six more arrived.

“...colo!” Izem sounded worried. There was so much shouting. Izem was only with one friend now. The other hung between them. He looked dead.

“Go!” Nicolo ordered in Arabic again. “To the mill! Be ready!”

The fish stall to Nicolo's right shattered as two men in hooded cloaks bashed through, using their heavy steel like battering rams.

The swords' pommels varied. Nicolo spotted two in straight cruciform. The bandits carried blades from knights, from invaders, from lands Nicolo did not know.

A new anger joined the one that filled his chest. These men were using weapons stolen from the dead.

Nicolo ducked under an inexpert swing, but a blade tip caught the small of his back from behind. He stumbled. He swung clumsily. Another fell, but the man got up snarling.

Around Nicolo, the villagers who are able, swung their dull axes at the bandits. Fishermen caught bandits with tossed nets and the others attacked them as they floundered on the ground.

There was still more coming, though. From the side where the land lay.

Yusuf. Yusuf would have stopped them.

Someone shouted and Nicolo threw himself to the ground just as an arrow spiked the stall just above his heart.

There was an enemy from afar.

Another arrow flew and one of the villagers fell. Nu'm's brother. His ax dropped to the red tinged mud. The man will not get up again. Nu'm is the only one left in their family.

Nicolo gritted his teeth. He gestured to the others to leave him. They would not. Another picked up the ax and charged.

Another arrow.

Nicolo knocked it aside before it struck Malik, the goat herder. He grunted when a hot line went across his left shoulder down to the back of his right thigh.

It burned as it healed. The blood on Nicolo's clothes, the thicker tunic Yusuf insisted Nicolo wears covered the slash and the exposed jut of his hip bone. He was healing. But it hurt. And it slowed him down. His next swing missed.

A hand grabbed Nicolo by the elbow when he staggered.

“I am fine,” Nicolo insisted. He could not hear himself. He was unsure if he spoke Greek or Arabic any more. “Follow Izem! Go!”

Nicolo was not sure if whoever tried to help him understood. He lurched forward, colliding into two men stooped over a woman who screamed and screamed.

She stopped screaming by the time Nicolo killed the two on top of her.

There was no time to see who it was. There was no time to despair his failures. Nicolo lost count of how many remained standing. He heard Izem shouting. Three of the intruders spotted where the others have fled. The hut behind the metal smith’s was in flames. A child was crying.

Smoke gathered. A haze rose around Nicolo and the enemy. Night was falling but darkness was kept away by patches of fire.

The bandits were starting to burn the village. They have taken Jerusa—

Nicolo choked around the bitter memories that would never go away. He heard shouting, but did not realize it was himself until he saw the bandits in front of him starting. He plunged his sword like a staff, skewered two, twisting the blade with a wrench that split open the still healing slash down his own back.

There were less men around him. Nicolo did not dare fathom why; if it bore good news or ill. He could not hear Izem as well. He prayed it was not for the reason why.

All Nicolo could think about was to fight and not stop. He fought, a scream stuck in his throat, painfully aware there should be someone there besides him. But soon. It will be soon. Until then, he can. Not. Stop. Fighting.

Nicolo stood, hissing as another blade caught him unaware, this time at the back of his neck, catching the braid Yusuf tied this morning. His hair, uneven, sticky with blood, clung around his throat and jaw.

An arrow hissed and Nicolo grabbed a bandit closest to him and guided the man to interrupt the arrow's path. Nicolo muttered a prayer, reluctant thanks to the arrowhead that popped out the back of the bandit's skull. He grunted as another arrow sailed across, into his right shoulder blade, snapping off when Nicolo tackled another so Zayd could break free.

It hurt to move his right arm. Nicolo's shoulders convulse with every swing. When the arrow pushed out unnoticed by others, his entire right side was aflame. It was harder to draw a breath.

But the pain did not matter. It can not.

One more fell by Nicolo's sword. Another scrambled away. More hooded men emerged from both directions. Some fell easily. Many did not.

A hand pulled Nicolo up when he could not rise from the man he just bested. Nicolo huffed, unable to say thanks. He could only nod and the other ran to help another. Nicolo hopes he will survive. He considered the bandits busy ripping shelters to find spoils.

"Your fight is with me!" Nicolo shouted in his broken Greek, in as loud of a voice his raw throat could spare. "Do not think you can take anything past me!"

Seven stopped and eyed Nicolo. Seven turned away from the broken houses. Seven turned away from the fleeing villagers.

Seven. Nicolo held his longsword so tight, it shook like an untamed horse.

"Seven it is," Nicolo rasped to himself. "Then seven it shall be."

He needed to keep fighting. He needed to push them back. He needed to wait. Yusuf was coming.

Nicolo raised his sword, felt the last of his wound close over his hip and charged.

--------------------------

Argh. I can't stunt coordinate. The last part of 18 (Yusuf) will have to be tomorrow. I need to "borrow" my cousin's action figures and try to figure this out. Hee.

Tomorrow!

REPOST OF: Needs of the Other 11E/20

[dr_libra_phd]

(not a new part) I had deleted this who knows when and putting it here. This will all get fixed on AO3. Promise!


———————————-
Part 11E
———————————-

(Yusuf)

Cairo, 12th century


Yazim’s cat yowled when someone outside stepped on its tail.

In the house, both Nicolo and Yusuf’s heads shot up.

The docks were suspiciously empty when he and Nicolo left the ship. When Yusuf mused out loud the strangeness of it, Nicolo tersely said it was because Dirar sent some away and kept his loyal ones on the ship. Dirar planned to reward their devotion.

Yusuf did not say anything more after that. He could not. The lump in his throat would not let him.

A few people gave them squinty looks at their disheveled appearances, especially Yusuf. He was not able to clean off all of the blood. Fortunately, it meant people will notice and people will talk. If the right question was asked to the right person, Dirar's people will find them.

They changed quickly when they reached their home, at the same time packing what funds Yusuf saved. They changed with their backs to each other, but Yusuf was keenly aware of how Nicolo's movements seemed to stutter as he hastily wiped himself with a rag dampened with the remaining tea. They did not dare spare time to get water other than to fill their waterskins.

In a distance not quite far enough away, a man swore at Yazim's cat. Another snapped at him to be silent.

Someone had asked the right question.

“Do you have everything?” Nicolo said tersely. He slung his pack over his shoulder.

Yusuf hurriedly stuffed the constellations scroll in his pack.

“I have enough,” Yusuf said. He reached out to prod Nicolo forward, stopping when Nicolo tensed. He wordlessly gestured to Nicolo to go ahead and watched Nicolo slip out the door. After a count of three, Yusuf followed.

They took the pathway that would lead them down to the back of the markets and to the stables to Nicolo’s horse and hopefully one Yusuf could borrow.

Yusuf could hear men, loyal to Dirar, trying to determine which was their home. Some cursed as Yazim’s cat scratched and hissed at the intrusion. The well bucket rattled as it fell over. Another yelped, outraged when the cat bit him.

Okay, the cat? Perhaps not so bad.

There was no one guarding the stables. There was another horse besides Nicolo’s, lazily chewing dried grass and watching them with little interest with its large ebony eyes. It was congenial enough to be coaxed out of its warm pen.

Nicolo's horse survived the escape from Damascus, whereas Yusuf's did not. Nicolo's horse seemed alert, its ears perking up when Nicolo slung his pack on it.

Yusuf's horse snorted when Yusuf did the same.

"I do not know if he is fast," Nicolo said worriedly. He patted the horse's flanks. "I have seen him pull carts from the doc..."

Nicolo set his jaw. He went around the horse, hands sweeping across it, inspecting. It stood there tolerating the inspection as it continued to chew grass.

Yusuf watched how Nicolo's hands shook when he grasped the reins and tested the harness. He should tell Nicolo there was no time. But he held his tongue, watching Nicolo continue to check Yusuf's horse, his ears open to any approaching sounds.

“My horse is fast enough. I...Should we...” Nicolo hedged.

“No,” Yusuf said firmly. “We do not separate. We ride out together. Think of anything else but that.”

Nicolo's eyes slid to his own horse. His throat worked as he nodded.

"All right," Nicolo rasped. "Which way--"

A shout from afar. Then two. An arrow suddenly punctured the pole that held up the stable's roof. Nicolo's horse merely snorted. Yusuf's reared up on its hind legs, startled.

"Into the market," Yusuf said as he climbed up the beast. Thankfully, a jerk of the reins calmed the horse.

Nicolo was about to ask when another arrow passed close enough, a red line appeared on his left cheek.

"Go!" Yusuf shouted. He slapped Nicolo's horse on its flanks and shot off after Nicolo as the shouting grew close enough to make out nine voices.





The market was crowded as more people ventured out when the sun was at its highest. They milled around the fruits and meats of the day's offerings. They bickered and gossiped about the ongoings of the inner city.

They scattered when Yusuf and Nicolo's horses burst through.

"Out of the way!" Yusuf hollered as he waved madly at those too slow to jump back the first time. Behind him, Dirar's men chased them on foot. With the stalls and the people, the horses were not an advantage, but Yusuf hoped the market would create enough confusion so their pursuers would find it hard to follow.

In front of him, Nicolo's horse wove between the stalls and people. Nicolo kept looking back for Yusuf.

An arrow zipped by, past Yusuf's ear, barely missing Nicolo.

"Left!" Yusuf shouted in Greek. He stayed close to Nicolo's horse.

Yusuf's horse seemed to revel in the chaos Yusuf steered it into. Hooves pounded on melons, skidded on dates and thumped on the ground. It neighed as it raced past people, chomping the air in delight.

Yusuf found himself a mad horse.

Nicolo's horse suddenly made a sharp right and Yusuf followed, catching the men blocking their path out of the corner of his eye. He grit his teeth, starting when he saw a familiar stall up ahead.

"Make way!" Yusuf said, switching to lingua. He charged past Nicolo, leaned to his far right and snatched up a bolt of linen as he passed. His horse barreled into the stall. It collapsed. Yusuf did not apologize to Aziz's white face.

"Whose stall was that?" Nicolo shouted after Yusuf.

"Take this end," Yusuf chose to reply instead and unfurled enough fabric for Nicolo to fist the cloth's tail.

Nicolo's eyes widened. He nodded to Yusuf.

Yusuf turned back around, towards the men blocking their path, the fabric unraveling more and more like a banner.

Nicolo stayed close behind, holding tight to his end.

There were five men blocking the only path out of the market and into the desert. They raised their swords when they spotted Yusuf and Nicolo.

Nicolo raced up to meet Yusuf's pace, their horses' strides matched up. The fabric stretched taut between them.

Like a fishing net, the fabric slapped around the men before they could react. Tangled, they easily fell to the ground after a kick to the wiggling mound.

Yusuf pulled out the small bag of coins Aziz gave him from his pocket. He tossed the foul smelling coins behind him.

"A gift from Dirar!" Yusuf shouted at the people scrabbling forward, some on top of Dirar's people trying to free themselves. Greedy hands reaching for coins stampede over the men and blocked the rest of their pursuers.

With a burst of speed, Yusuf and Nicolo rode out, leaving Cairo behind.




Their pursuers dogged behind Yusuf and Nicolo, far away the seven on horseback wavered as mirages.

But not far enough away that an arrow did not find Nicolo's back.

Yusuf heard a grunt, turned around only to discover Nicolo had rode behind him to intercept the arrow.

"Can you still ride?" Yusuf yelled as he grabbed Nicolo's reins before the horse could bolt. Yusuf's horse pranced in place. In fact, both horses did. Nicolo's horse almost threw him off.

"As long as I stay on my horse, yes," Nicolo grit out. He reached behind him and snapped the shaft off close to his body. He clenched his teeth, nodding as he tugged his reins out of Yusuf's grip. "Let's go."

Yusuf pursed his lips, but did not argue. Not here. Not now.

Clicking his tongue, jerking the reins, Yusuf urged his horse to run. Nicolo stayed behind him. He refused to line up with Yusuf's horse. At Yusuf's back, Nicolo panted as he rode, white-faced with pain, expression hard and refusing to speak.

There was nothing Yusuf could do. So he rode, faster and faster with Nicolo at his back, sand billowing behind them like smoke.




After the third arrow found Nicolo and not Yusuf, Yusuf snatched Nicolo's reins and did not let go.

"I can still ride," Nicolo bit out. He grunted as one of the arrows at last pushed out from his shoulders.

"You ride besides me, not behind me," Yusuf said. He clutched the reins tighter as Nicolo tried to reclaim them.

"Besides me, Nicolo." Yusuf repeated. "I do not need a shield."

Nicolo's eyes were gray with pain that were not just from the arrows. "Let me do this for y--"

"You have done enough for me." Yusuf's voice cracked. He could not stop it. His eyes welled. "You have done too much already, hobi."

Nicolo closed his eyes. He breathe out shakily as he reopened them.

"They are still behind us."

Yusuf smiled grimly. "Not for long. I now know why our horses are skittish." He nodded to the horizon and the vast golden smoke that rose up from the desert.

Sandstorm.

Nicolo set his jaw. "The horses..."

"We will send them on their way. They knew this storm was coming. They will know where to go to be safe. But they will go faster without us on their backs. The others will not dare follow us into this."

Nicolo was climbing off his horse before Yusuf finished and did the same. He grimaced as he slung his pack over his shoulder. He looked in one direction at the seven chasing them. He looked at the storm.

Yusuf extended his left arm.

Nicolo reached out and gripped Yusuf's forearm.

Yusuf wrapped his hand on Nicolo's wrist. He felt Nicolo's pulse beating serene under his fingers.

"Let us go," Yusuf murmured.

Together, they turned and ran towards the sandstorm.
------------------

NEW HERE: Needs of the Other 18G/20

[dr_libra_phd]

Sorry for the delay. Morning unexpected became hijacked by my family. Sigh.


———————————————-
Part 18G
———————————————-

(Yusuf)

Somewhere outside of Alexandria, 12th century




The city was burning.

Women wept. Children cried. Men died. The sand ran red. The fires burned hot. And sand and stone and wood could not hold them back.

The walls did not hold. They did not—

Yusuf gasped, his body jerking. He tasted sand on his lips. He tasted blood on his tongue.

The arrow in him burned, burrowing and grinding with each weakening thump of his heart. He reached up and snapped off the half protruding the front of his chest. He felt the blood in his lungs receding, the froth no longer filling his throat.

It was dark. Yet there were flares of light.

Fire.

The village. The village was burn—

Nicolo.

Yusuf clenched his teeth. His fists dug into mud and he tried to push himself up. He could not. The front half of the arrow was still trapped in his back, between his shoulders, scraping noisily against his spine. It numbed him from the waist down. His left arm lost most its strength.

But the village was burning. And he was in the village.

“H-hobi,” Yusuf rasped. Why will his knees not work?

Something clamped over the back of Yusuf’s tunic, above the arrow. Without warning, Yusuf was yanked up to his feet. The arrowhead shifted, sliding out a fraction and what was numb suddenly ignited.

A scream cut off in Yusuf’s throat as he slammed into...his horse?

The horse blew out sharply into Yusuf's face.

Yusuf grimaced as the remaining arrow half in his back wiggled, trying to push through. He gasped wetly, his knees refusing to lock.

The horse nickered. It sidestepped closer to Yusuf.

Yusuf stared blankly at the five bodies around them on the ground. Four had no heads. He rested his forehead on the long neck. He grunted as the arrow at last pushed through and fell to the dirt. But he still can not feel his legs.

The horse snorted. It stamped a blood splattered hoof.

Yusuf blearily stared at the bright round eyes and the narrow muzzle.

“You have your uses,” Yusuf croaked. He clung to its mane with his right hand. His left hand barely held on to his scimitar. But it did not matter.

“Take me to Nicolo,” Yusuf rasped. His reflection gazed back at him. “Take me to Nicolo.”

The horse’s head lowered, nearly to the ground, its long body quivering under the strain as Yusuf shakily climbed up.

Yusuf slumped forward over the horse’s neck, wheezing. He almost fell over to the other side. He gripped the mane instead of the reins with his right hand, his scimitar clutched in his left with a grip Yusuf worried he will not be able to loosen.

The horse started, stopped and neighed. It turned to stare unblinking at Yusuf.

“Go,” Yusuf groaned. He could gradually feel his feet. He wiggled his toes in his boots. “Before I trade you for that goat over there."

The horse snorted once, delicately stepped over the bodies and headed for where the fires burned the brightest.





The market was on fire.

Yusuf spotted Izem guarding the path to the mill. A hut burned behind them. The boy stood alone, holding a bloodied sword Yusuf did not give him.

“By the weaver!” Izem shouted the moment he spotted Yusuf on his horse. He waved Yusuf off.

“I’m fine!” Izem declared and proved it by executing the move Yusuf taught him and knocked a bandit completely off his feet. Others spilled out from hiding places behind Izem. They pounced the moment the man fell.

Yusuf gave Izem one last look, blinking in shock before he clicked his tongue and the horse turned away.

There was no more weaver’s stall. It’s blackened wooden frame stood as the only survivor of the market. There were villagers fighting around the market. There were villagers battling bandits among the burning homes past the market. There were ones who were not fighting any more.

And there was Nicolo, his sword held to his eyes, steady in his double grip, his bloodied form surrounded by five men in an arc in from of him, his back to a broken cart smoldering to ask.

The men all stayed back, eyes and feet shifting from left to right. They did not approach.

Two men lay by Nicolo’s feet. One’s legs lay by his comrades. The other's...Yusuf could not tell where they were.

Yusuf shouted, or tried but the horse was louder and rudely drowned him out with a high-pitched squeal. Nicolo did not turn to look. He held his sword high, drawn back so his sword was a gleaming sharp line that tracked his narrowed eyes back to the bandits.

“Go find Izem.” It was agony, but Yusuf slid off the horse. He clung to the horse until his boots at last sensed the ground beneath him. He staggered to Nicolo’s side. The stench of blood on Nicolo made him nearly gag. But he held up his scimitar in front of him.

Nicolo’s eyes flicked to Yusuf and back front. His sword lifted slightly higher.

“You are late,” Nicolo said in Arabic.

Yusuf barked a laugh, a gurgling and alarming one if he was to judge the way Nicolo’s eyes flew back to him.

“Not fair,” Yusuf rasped in Arabic. “I was about to say the same to you.” His legs regained footing after his horse prodded his lower back from behind.

“Stupid beast,” Yusuf muttered. “I told you to go.” He grunted when the horse’s nose smacked him on his ass when he staggered back.

“Are you helping me or them? Do you wish to be a workhorse again? Go!”

The bandits glanced at each other nervously. Ah, they do not speak Arabic. Very well.

"Is that your blood, dear friend?" Yusuf greeted Nicolo in very loud Greek.

Nicolo smiled thinly.

"Not all of this blood is mine," Nicolo replied in Greek as well. "Are the blood on your clothes yours?"

Yusuf shrugged. He suppressed the grimace. "Some. Most from their friends, I am afraid. To be fair, the beast behind me has some of their blood as well." To the bandits, Yusuf said, "I hope you were not expecting more men. They have been detained."

The horse snorted.

One of the bandits muttered under his breath. Another lifted his blade higher.

“Can you fight?” Nicolo said under his breath. He returned to Arabic

“Bah.” Yusuf gestured at the remaining men. They edged back, their shoulders tensing as he lazily pointed at them with his blade.

“Fight them? If you wish.” Yusuf bit back the grimace as he shrugged. A bone popped back in place and at last, Yusuf’s legs obeyed him once again. "Or I could sit back and let you fight them."

"I was trying to be polite," Nicolo said, still in Arabic, "I saved some for you."

"Ah." It hurt less to laugh now. Yusuf's scimitar wobbled as he pointed to the men. He was amused to see the bandits twitch.

"How kind. Which ones have you left me?"

Nicolo smirked. A trail of blood seeped out of a corner of his mouth. "The ugly one."

"Eh? Which one?" Yusuf raised an eyebrow at the bandits. He received a scowl in return.

"They are all ugly when I am standing next to you. And you only saved me one? Must you be so greedy?"

Nicolo scoffed. His eyes lingered on Yusuf a moment longer before turning back to their shared enemy.

“Can you fight?” Nicolo asked in Arabic. He echoed that day on Dirar's ship, his eyes this time an echo of many years before.

“If you still want to with me,” Yusuf murmured and he saw Nicolo made the connection, his eyes widening even as his lips curled subtly in a smile he only gave Yusuf.

“Always,” Nicolo replied.

Yusuf turned back towards the bandits.

Without saying a word, Yusuf and Nicolo stepped forward, together, in stride and charged.





His sword was an extension to himself.

Nicolo was the shield to his blade. As he is to Nicolo.

It was like striking swords again at twilight, in the back of their home. Yusuf moved left as Nicolo moved right. When Nicolo swung the first blow, Yusuf then surged forward to mete the second.

Their battle drew the ire of others, who found themselves at a stand off against villagers armed with iron bars, dull axes and barbed nets. Yusuf and Nicolo fell three, five more joined in.

Suddenly the ashes of the market became a battlefield as villagers swarmed the grounds. Carts rammed into bandits. Axes found the skulls of greedy men. As Yusuf and Nicolo fought, back to back, sword to sword, they found themselves surrounded by villagers, men and women alike, dozens of fists striking one. Sticks hammering another like a lump of dough.

The more Yusuf fought, the more his blood sang. He was not a violent man, not by choice, but oh, how his limbs moved without thought as his scimitar cut his enemy down. Out of the corner of his eye, he spotted Izem, a boy but now a man, rushing forth without hesitation. The sword was not his, but it moved with the young man like they were together since birth.

And Nicolo, Nicolo was always at the edge of his awareness, silent but loud in his movements as he turned into one swing to the next.

"Behind you," Nicolo called and Yusuf ducked. He felt Nicolo's dagger sail over him, striking the coward who would try to attack him from behind.

Yusuf's eyes stayed on Nicolo's as he reached behind, yanked the dagger out of the bandit's throat to throw it into the heart of the bandit charging towards Nicolo.

"Here is your blade back," Yusuf shouted as he punched one and shoved him forward.

"You missed!" Nicolo returned as his longsword skewered through the attacker.

"On purpose!" Yusuf shot back as he darted by Nicolo. His scimitar cut the throat fast enough blood did not spill.

"Or by accident!" Nicolo scoffed. He jumped back from the bandit gurgling by his feet.

Hedi's men were bloodthirsty and greedy, but they were also cowards. When they realized the village was not as easy of a prize to snatch, they tried to retreat. Some made it. Some did not.

The moon was up high when the roar of battle was silenced. The remaining villagers stood about in a daze. Fires still burned.

"Find buckets," Yusuf told one wearily. The man's name escaped him. "Use the sea to put the flames out."

"Search the dead," Nicolo told another. "Check carefully. One may still breathe."

"Use the mill for the wounded." Izem's voice rang out. "If there are attackers who still live, put them in the storage shed for now.

"That is a good plan, Izem." Nicolo shot Yusuf an amused look.

Yusuf shrugged, but he could do nothing more than nod as Izem glanced their way.

Nicolo stared blankly after Izem when Yusuf shuffled next to him.

"Hobi," Yusuf murmured. He plucked a clean part of Nicolo's sleeve.

"Did you die?" Nicolo whispered. He turned to consider Yusuf, his eyes clouding when Yusuf nodded wearily.

"I promised to be there when you open your eyes." Nicolo exhaled. He slipped his longsword into his scabbard, his eyes downcast. "I am sorry."

"And I am sorry I was late," Yusuf replied. He turned his grip, cupping Nicolo's elbow. "We saved many lives, my heart." Yusuf shook his head sadly. He gazed around them. The villagers were quiet, in respect of their dead, or because of exhaustion. Perhaps both. They were calling out names as they checked bodies. There was someone weeping, but Yusuf could not see where.

Fires were extinguished one by one and the night regained dominance. The moon above their heads soon became the only light shining down on the ruins of the village market.

Yusuf spotted his horse, standing lost by a broken cart, the dead around its hooves. Its black tail was limp with mud and blood. The horse could be asleep if it were not the head moving, tracking the villagers moving around them. It whinnied as a body was lifted off the ground in front of it. It was the vendor who sold fruit. He often slipped Yusuf's horse the fruit he could not sell at the end of the day.

"How many have we lost tonight?" Yusuf murmured sadly.

"Do not think that," Nicolo said. "Think of how many were saved today."

Nicolo slipped his hand into Yusuf's left hand. There was a finger missing a nail in Nicolo's hand, but it was growing back as Nicolo stroked the curve of Yusuf's palm.

"We did good here." Nicolo sounded hesitant, though.

Yusuf curled his hand around Nicolo's, capturing it.

"Yes," Yusuf said. He gave Nicolo's fingers a brief squeeze. "We did, Nicolo."

Yusuf heaved a sigh. "However, I am weary. Can we go home soon? If not, I shall sleep where I stand. Do not wake me until tomorrow."

"But they might need our help..." His dear Nicolo hedged despite how heavy his voice sounded.

"You have done so much, Nicolo," Izem said as he approached. He stood disheveled and bloodied in front of them. He smiled broadly at Nicolo.

Yusuf frowned. He did not notice Izem was nearly as tall as Nicolo. And when did the boy started calling Nicolo by his given name?

"Nicolo," Yusuf groaned loudly to catch Nicolo's attention. "I am grievously filthy. Let us go home. I need a bath."

"It is late," Nicolo hesitated. "And we should see if they need help. There is much to do left."

"There is much to do," Izem agreed, "But you have done so much and should rest. I would be honored to offer you a place to sleep for the night."

"How kind," Yusuf could not help reply, his voice thinning, "to offer Nicolo and I a bed for the night."

Nicolo coughed. "Yes. Very kind." His fingers slipped out of Yusuf's grip. He shot Yusuf a look. Oh no. That was not a good look. "Let us help what we can and we will return to our own beds for rest. We do not mind."

Nicolo shot Yusuf another look.

"Do you agree, Yusuf?"

Yusuf straightened, his throat clearing.

"Of course. We would be most happy to help."

Inside, Yusuf sighed.

----------------
Whew. And that was the last part of 18. Chapter 19 and all the SEX to follow on Monday. Research time Sund--no, not for THIS, for my class! LOL.

I needed to organize these for it to be cleaned up for AO3 and found so many disasters. I am mortified and embarrassed. Thank you all for sticking with this fic despite how hard it has been to find it. Thank you for giving my fic a chance!

NEW HERE: Needs of the Other 19A/20

[dr_libra_phd]

I can't believe we're at 19 and I kept it still to 20. LOL.

———————————————-
Part 19A
———————————————-

(Nicolo)

Somewhere outside of Alexandria, 12th century




“Ingrate.”

Nicolo lifted his heavy head.

Yusuf stood with his hands on his hips. Despite his wet attire—Nicolo wondered why it stirred something in him—Yusuf glared at the object of his ire.

With a snort, the horse glowered back at Yusuf.

“This is your own fault,” Yusuf said, gesturing at the horse with the knot of cloth strips he planned to wrap around the pumice applied on the wound.

They found a sword slash that ran shallowly around the horse’s thigh just below its flank. Yusuf first thought the horse was limping to garner Nicolo’s sympathy because Nicolo argued they should not both ride the horse.

“I told you to leave but did you listen? Of course not, you never do and you see? This is what happens when you do not listen!”

The horse grunted. Then squealed, outraged, when Yusuf slapped more pumice on the wound.

Nicolo bathed while Yusuf fussed—“Fuss? I am not fussing over this beast, hobi”—and returned to find Yusuf had unexpectedly bathed as well: the horse had tipped the bucket of water over Yusuf's head when he applied the herbal pumice. He sat on the grass to watch Yusuf argue with their horse.

“...or you would prefer to trot uneven for the rest of your—no, do not think of—“

Nicolo blinked blearily when more water sprinkled on his face. When he looked up, Yusuf was done with the horse’s bandages and staking away muttering he needed a bath. A trail of water followed Yusuf’s trek to the stream. He did not invite Nicolo and for once Nicolo was glad.

Listening to the tall grass whisper against Nicolo was lulling him to sleep. No, he wanted to stay awake because this was supposed to be...He flushed. It was supposed to be last—no, two nights ago, but there was so much to do.

The peace Nicolo felt eroded with the more dead they found. The village was reduced to a few structures. Their boats were made into shelters. The elderly and women slept inside the mill.

Nicolo rubbed his gritty eyes with a fist.

Fires ebbed to reveal those who could not flee in time, those the bandits thought were as good as theirs to plunder. Age did not matter. Their sex did not matter.

The cruelty of man still saddens him and Yusuf.

A hen tottered over to Nicolo. Inquisitive eyes considered Nicolo’s blood stained boots.

“No,” Nicolo murmured. “Over there. See?”

Nicolo gently prodded the fluffy thing towards the bucket of feed inside the hens’ pen. The poor animals were not fed yesterday or the day before. Nicolo feared the worse when he remembered too late when he and Yusuf trudged home this morning. Yusuf checked while Nicolo gathered what they needed to make the pumice for their horse.

Nicolo smiled faintly as another hen hopped over. It pecked lightly into his palm, head tilting when it discovered his palm was empty.

The hens fared well to Nicolo’s relief. They chattered happily at Nicolo and Yusuf when they saw them. The rooster flapped up to them and squawked, most likely berating them for their neglect.

But the hens were fine and judging the eggs the hens buried under the grass, a few more birds will be joining them. The promise of new life, however small, was balm to their souls.

And yet...

Nicolo knuckled his left eye again.

He found the weaver too late. Omar, one of the elder fisherman, had tucked her under his body. It was not enough to save her. Or him. Shirif wailed when Nicolo brought her mother back to her. She cried into Izem's shoulder. Then she cried some more when she learned it was Omar who tried to help her mother.

Omar once greeted Nicolo with a scowl because of his accent, then later with extra fish whenever he heard Nicolo’s catch was poor. The man’s hair was as white as his sightless eyes. He could hold no sword and yet fought as fiercely as if one was in his hand.

Shirif thanked Nicolo for finding her mother. She thanked him and then went to find a death shroud.

Nicolo's eyes burned. His left one twitched as if trying to close, but no, he wanted to wait for Yusuf.

The last hen tiptoed over, hopping up to Nicolo's legs. It chirped, tottered around to his other side and flapped its wings where it stood.

It can not fly, but Nicolo caught it try several times to flutter around the horse's hooves. And it failed as many tries.

And here, it was still trying, wings fluttering, chirping despite he had forgotten about them for days as he helped the villagers buried the dead. They thanked him and Yusuf, thanked them as they wiped their eyes dry and went to salvage wood to rebuild. The metal smith's son pressed the little bundle into his numb hands and his coin because they refused to take payment and...

"Nicolo, shhh..."

Nicolo started when Yusuf's arms wrapped around him, his lips brushing under Nicolo's eyes. He realized he held the hen in his lap and his tears were falling on top of its feathered head.

"I was..." Nicolo was not sure. Was this not good? The village was saved. He told Yusuf not to think about who they lost and yet here he was, weeping on top of the poor creature.

"Shoo," Yusuf murmured as he picked up the hen and send it on its way. "Fill your tiny belly before you drown in our tears. Away with you."

Nicolo caught the shimmer at Yusuf's reddened eyes. He murmured, distressed, and dropped his head onto Yusuf's shoulder.

Yusuf whispered something into Nicolo's hair. He laid back onto the grass, Nicolo slumped over him.

"I am the same," Yusuf said quietly, "I felt gladness the village was spared, but sorrow not all were there to see it." He cleared his throat.

"It was strange," Yusuf said roughly. He started to stroke Nicolo's hair as he stared up at the morning sky. "I was angry at our horse for not listening and my fury led my feet to the stream to bathe. But as I cleaned, I watched the blood of battle washed away and sorrow took over."

Yusuf sighed.

"They rejoiced and grieved and shared it with us, yet I felt like I did not deserve it for death was not something that stalked me. What right do I have to celebrate our survival? They thanked us and it only made me want to weep."

Yusuf kept echoing the words clogged up in Nicolo's heart. As Yusuf spoke what burdened Nicolo's heart, his eyes stayed dry. So Nicolo wept for both of them.

"But you were right, hobi," Yusuf went on. "I should not think of who was lost, but who was saved. I should think of who we have to spend our lives with however short theirs are to us. We did good, my heart. It does not feel like that right now, but you were right. We needed to help them. And we did. And it is good."

Nicolo pressed his damp eyes over Yusuf's tunic and breathed.





She caught the arrow with her ax, laughing as the other scowled. She knocked back another arrow and grinned...

Nicolo started. His eyes flew open. There was a moment he was confused why he no longer smell smoke.

The bed underneath him sank and his stomach lurched as he lowered.

Hands wrapped tighter around Nicolo's chest.

"You are not falling," Yusuf murmured against Nicolo's nape. He chuckled sleepily against Nicolo's skin. "There is no hole underneath us."

"Your bed," Nicolo grumbled. He fidgeted within Yusuf's hold. He vaguely remembered staggering, slumped against Yusuf towards their house. He remembered pulling his boots off, crowding Yusuf to the bed and...

Nicolo groaned.

"Did I fall asleep on you?"

"A little," Yusuf said. He sounded amused. Nicolo groaned once more. "You announced you were not tired and then started to kiss my beard rather enthusiastically and then fell asleep drooling on top of it. It was adorable, my heart, if not also rather disgusting."

Nicolo pressed his heated face into the padding and his face sank into its plush surface. He paused as the rest of Yusuf's words sank in. He lifted his head.

"I did not drool on you."

Yusuf chuckled as he tugged Nicolo against him.

"Fear not, hobi, I was more charmed than I was revolted."

"I did not," Nicolo insisted.

"Mm hm," Yusuf hummed as he rolled Nicolo to face him. "Yes, you did not, as I did not break the bed."

"Do you not fear I will drown you in my drool?" Nicolo grumbled. He reluctantly faced Yusuf.

Yusuf rumbled against Nicolo. He slipped a leg between Nicolo's.

"Hello, my heart," Yusuf said. He pressed an open-mouthed kiss on Nicolo's throat. "How are you feeling now?"

Nicolo hesitated, searching within.

"Not as tired," Nicolo admitted.

Yusuf reached up and pushed back Nicolo's hair from his face.

"I am not surprised. We slept the rest of the day away."

Nicolo stared. "We...the entire day?"

Yusuf shrugged. "We must have needed it. Do not worry. I fed the hens. I changed that ungrateful beast's bandages. It is healing nicely. Miserable horse tried to bite me when I applied more pumice."

Nicolo blinked. "I do not feel like I slept a--are you sure?"

Yusuf leaned in, his eyes twinkling.

"The sun is in the direction as before. The hens nearly attacked me when I came in with the feed. We should teach them to feed themselves."

Nicolo groaned. He dropped his head onto Yusuf's shoulder. "Then last night..."

Yusuf chuckled. "I doubt last night would have happened. I prefer we enjoy each other, not have you fall asleep on me. Such responses would wound my pride."

Nicolo grimaced. "You had plans. And I..." He could feel his ears pinking.

Yusuf tapped one of Nicolo's ear. "My plans, our night, will happen."

"I expected it to happen last night," Nicolo grumbled. He grew somber. "But tears needed to be shed first to make room for other things." He regarded Yusuf.

"Do you feel better?"

Yusuf's mouth twisted. "Better and it will improve with time, I am sure." His leg slipped up higher between Nicolo's, rubbing the inside of Nicolo's thighs. Yusuf shifted closer to Nicolo. Their noses bumped.

"Although right now, I am feeling ravenous."

"For food?" Nicolo asked wryly as he felt Yusuf's cock press hot into the fold of his hip.

Yusuf's eyes shone bright. His hands slipped around, fingers catching the waistline of Nicolo's trousers.

"No." And with a sharp tug, Nicolo's sleep pants were down to his knees.

Nicolo groaned as the hot slide of Yusuf's cock brushed against his. He found himself responding, his cock filling as he swept hands under Yusuf's shirt.

There was a brief struggle, a catch of breath, an aborted giggle as they tried and realized they can not undress each other at the same time. Their tunics fell over the bed, their trousers behind Yusuf.

Yusuf tugged the woven blanket away. He gazed at Nicolo with a wide-eyed look.

"What?" Nicolo's belly lurched at the look on Yusuf's eyes.

"Do you know how you looked out there?" Yusuf rasped. "Your sword high, you moved with it like it was part of you." He cupped Nicolo's jaw. "Each step so sure, each stroke so powerful, it was like the first time I met you, but this time we shared the same enemy."

"You danced," Nicolo said. He leaned into Yusuf's hand. He breathed out sharply as Yusuf's other hand reached down and traced the shape of his sex. "You...you and your sword danced through our enemy and--Yus..."

"Shh," Yusuf hushed. His cock bumped into Nicolo's, hot and thick, brushing sensitive skin. His thumb pressed along the edges of skin that covered Nicolo's cock and coaxed, fingertips teasing the thin skin as if undressing Nicolo's cock as well.

"Uh..." Nicolo pressed closer. He dropped his head onto Yusuf's collarbone. He gazed at the hollow their bodies created. He watched Yusuf's chest heave against his forehead. He watched Yusuf rein their lengths together.

Nicolo groaned again, rocking into Yusuf's grip, against his cock. It was dry, too dry and it stung grinding against Yusuf's cock and hand.

"I want to take you right now," Yusuf said roughly. He reached behind Nicolo for the small jar of oil on the table. He needed to stretch to reach, curving into Nicolo, his upper body within the reach of Nicolo's mouth.

Nicolo latched on to a nipple, felt Yusuf jerk against his lips. He tugged, tasted the pink nub as it hardened against his rough tongue.

"I want to fill you," Yusuf rasped as he rolled his hips, his cock aligning with Nicolo's. Yusuf's torso quivered as Nicolo moved to the other teat.

"I want to spill into yo--yes, my heart, oh, there, yes..."

Yusuf's hand returned around their cocks. It was now slick with oil and suddenly the pace grew frantic.

Nicolo pulled away from Yusuf's chest, a whine creaking out of his throat as Yusuf pumped their cocks together. He curled his hands around Yusuf's wrists, his body rocking to the pulls.

"There is so much I want to taste of you," Yusuf panted. He slipped a hand around and smoothed his fingers over Nicolo's taint in time of his jerks.

"I could have sat there and watch you, like a mythical god of war glowing with mercy yet burning with such strength."

Nicolo's mouth fell open and he gasped, keening as a finger slipped in. His body shaped around Yusuf's finger, first one, then two. He whimpered when there was no more.

"Yu...yusuf..."

"I want to bury myself into that well of power, that well of light and never come out."

Yusuf's fingers twisted, slipping in and out faster than the hand around them. Nicolo whimpered. His legs kicked a little as the third finger slipped in. The fullness robbed him of breath. All he could do was make soft catches of sound deep in his throat. He was ignited from all sides and he needed more.

"Yusuf..." Nicolo choked. "Please..." He huddled in closer, his hips snapping into Yusuf's hand, his body trembling to keep the fullness inside him.

Yusuf mouthed Nicolo's brow, his fingers turning, crooking, seeking...

Nicolo moaned as Yusuf's fingers brushed over that spot again and again, in a pace that turned into a blur. Light flashed behind his eyes over and over.

The fourth finger inched in and oh, oh, yes, this. His legs twitched, desperate to spread wide but on his side, all he could do was fling one leg over Yusuf's flank to open himself for more.

"Uh," Nicolo moaned, "Uh, Yu--mor--oh, p-please..."

"Do you feel how your body lets me in?" Yusuf murmured. "Do you feel how I fit inside you? How much I fill you with my fingers? Four, you take four so beautifully, but oh, you would still be so tight around me. I weep at the thought."

"I should take you now," Yusuf breathed and his eyes were as dark and charged as that night when they fought together.

"Y-yes...Yu-Yusuf..."

"...right here and let you ride my cock instead of my hand."

Nicolo panted. He could not even form more words to beg. He rocked into Yusuf's hand, pulling the fingers in, sobbing when Yusuf slowly eased them half out.

It was a battle between them. Nicolo struggled to buck into Yusuf's hand to take them deeper, only for Yusuf to slip them out. His damp fingers lingered at his opening, enough to feel the stretch as they slipped back in. But never deep enough. Not enough.

"Please..." Nicolo breathed. Yusuf kissed his brow, his hand quickening around their cocks.

"But no," Yusuf mourned. "Not yet, not like this, not in haste."

Yusuf turned his fingers, kneading Nicolo's insides with slow pets. He sped up his strokes around them as his movements inside Nicolo slowed into a torturous sway.

"Tonight. I promise. Let me spoil you, taste you in every way, let me keep you on this bed and indulge each other on this the day. Let me have you, my heart, in every possible way."

Nicolo came, spilling over Yusuf's hand, with a wordless wail. He lay panting, boneless and dazed as Yusuf rolled them so Nicolo was on his back.

"My beautiful warrior," Yusuf breathed as he leaned in to make the same promises all over again.
-----------------------

......so, it's a given this next few parts is pure plotless smut. Just as a warning, LOL. I learned a new term: PWP. Heh heh.

Tomorrow!



-------------

NEW HERE: Needs of the Other 19B/20

[dr_libra_phd]

You guys are so awesome. You make this experience so much fun! Thank you, guys!

———————————————-
Part 19B
———————————————-

(Yusuf)

Somewhere outside of Alexandria, 12th century




He did not want to wake him.

Yusuf paused from what he was doing. He gazed down at Nicolo's right shoulder a sharp corner against the sky. The fig trees barely reached Yusuf’s shoulders when he's seated, but their leaves still cast interesting shadows on Nicolo’s pale skin, curling over his buttocks and calves like forbidden tattoos.

Yusuf was at a similar undress. He did not see a reason to search for his discarded trousers. They bathed, lay by the fig trees to dry as Yusuf plucked ripe figs off the branches so Nicolo could halved them and mix it with the cheese and honey. The mixture sat in a small crockery on the grass to soften enough to smear across one of the many loaves of bread they were gifted. It would make a fine meal, should they feel inclined to go back to the house.

Up ahead, the hens squawked and squabble with the horse limping around toeing their pen with a hoof. The beast was most likely trying to eat their feed, having finished the generous pail of chaff Nicolo insisted Yusuf should give it.

Yusuf described to Nicolo what he found when he revived. Nicolo was convinced the horse protected him. Yusuf was certain the bandits were merely unfortunate enough to be underfoot of the horse.

Yusuf shook his head as he turned a page of the stack on his lap, flipping out the rough sketch of a war horse on its hind legs and smoothed a palm over the fresh sheet.

“Must you stare?” Nicolo mumbled. He did not roll onto his back. He stayed slightly curled, his head on the bent of his elbow. He was lying on his side, his back to Yusuf, dozing on top of Yusuf’s cloak spread out on the grass. Despite the cooling air, Nicolo seemed content to lie nude under the descending sun.

“Was I?” Yusuf murmured. He picked up the thin piece of charcoal again. He quietly drew the subtle curve of Nicolo’s right bicep.

"I am not looking but I feel your eyes on me." Nicolo sounded bemused. "Have you not seen enough of me?"

"Never," Yusuf said with fierce feeling. His charcoal crushed at the tip with his fervent answer. "I would never tire of looking at you."

Nicolo huffed, but did not protest. He continued to lie there, like a pale stone statue in repose.

“You said you wanted to stay in bed, yet here we are by the fig trees,” Nicolo yawned. “You could have at least let me put on my clothes.”

“Why,” Yusuf said distractedly as he smudged a line, adding shadow and a softer shape to Nicolo’s arm. “When we are going back to bed?”

Nicolo scoffed sleepily. “To sleep?”

“Tired so soon?” Yusuf teased as he pressed the charcoal lightly, stroking up to draw the slender column of Nicolo’s throat. "We have only just break fast."

Yusuf's charcoal stopped at the mouth. His charcoal would not be able to capture the pink and shy curl of Nicolo’s mouth.

“It takes too much work to think of a reply to you right now,” Nicolo yawned. He shifted more to his side, his right hip rolling up, his buttocks presented to Yusuf.

Yusuf’s groin stirred at the reddened patches on the back of Nicolo’s thighs and the sticky spots that splattered under the swell of his cheeks.

“You would think you are well rested considering how long you stayed in bed,” Yusuf murmured.

“If you let me sleep, I would be,” Nicolo retorted drowsily.

Yusuf chuckled low in his throat.

“Would you rather I let you sleep, hobi? You should have said, but all you said was my name over and over when my tongue was deep inside you.”

From where Yusuf seated, he could see Nicolo’s right ear pinking. Yusuf bit back a smirk.

“Or,” Yusuf went on in a low growl, “You could have asked when we were out here. I would not have protested. Not with your cock so deep in my throat.”

That pink deepened to a red as a flush painted down Nicolo’s back. Buttocks flexed as if remembering Yusuf’s fingers slipping in, breaching the taint and burrowing deep inside Nicolo.

Yusuf felt a different kind of flush as he recalled how Nicolo cried out, clenching around Yusuf’s fingers, his cock twitching helplessly in Yusuf’s throat, his belly quivering as he fought to stay on the ground. Oh how he mewled broken soft cries as Yusuf folded Nicolo's left leg over his shoulder, opening Nicolo wider for his fingers. How two slipped in easier. How greedy Nicolo’s body accepted the third.

There was still resistance to the fourth, but Yusuf watched for any discomfort as he added the fourth. There was none. Like before, Nicolo's expression unfurled into a dazed bliss. And Yusuf tucked the image into his heart as he rolled and twist his fingers inside Nicolo, finding that spot and massaging that place until Nicolo arched his back off the grass and came.

Nicolo was warm and pliant around and under Yusuf. The shadows and unease Nicolo could not hide in the beginning were all but gone. Yusuf found it harder to temper the fire that roiled in his belly. Something in him wanted to pull his Nicolo to him, onto his cock and plunder into the dark heat of his body again and again.

Yusuf swallowed harder. The charcoal snapped in his hand.

"Did you hear that?" Nicolo mumbled, lifting his head off his bent elbow.

Yusuf placed the shattered charcoal and object by the trees' roots. He crawled on his hands and knees until he hung above Nicolo's curled form.

Nicolo turned, heavy lidded gray-blue eyes considering Yusuf above him. His lips curved, a gentle curl of his mouth as his eyes deepened into stormy seas.

"Back to bed?" Nicolo murmured. His eyes wandered down Yusuf's body, stilling at the cock rising in challenge against Yusuf's stomach.

"Not yet?" Nicolo guessed. He rolled onto his back, his limbs loose, his body unresisting as Yusuf lowered himself to align along Nicolo's body.

Nicolo's cock was lax, velvet among a tangle of bristly hair. Yusuf's erection jumped on contact, gliding along the length of Nicolo's cock.

"Four fingers," Nicolo mumbled. His hands were warm and dry when they wrapped around Yusuf's elbows. "You do not feel like only four fingers."

Yusuf could only rumbled in his throat as he rocked across Nicolo.

"You..." Nicolo started to sound breathless. His sex stirred against Yusuf's erection. "Maybe in the middle or--Yusuf, but...but...not at the--"

Nicolo keened, his hips jerking up, seeking friction, seeking Yusuf.

Yusuf lowered his mouth to Nicolo's ear. He collected himself, his hips snapping towards Nicolo as Nicolo's frantic breath beat feather-like and hot against his throat.

"Does that worry you?" Yusuf whispered into Nicolo's ear. "Does my size fill you with dread?"

"Should...it?" Nicolo groaned. His hands curled tighter around Yusuf. "I...no...n-no...I...do not understand...Yusuf..."

Yusuf leaned in, settling his weight, his cock on top of Nicolo's body bucking up to meet his.

"What do you feel right now?" Yusuf said, his mouth over Nicolo's left ear, teeth teasing the lobe. He laved the faint impression of an ear hole, a hint of the silver earrings Nicolo once wore. Yusuf knew Nicolo took them off for safe keeping, in case they needed the coin, but Yusuf missed the glint against Nicolo's jaw line.

"Do you ache, my heart?" Yusuf rasped as his tongue flicked over the lobe, breathing over it and then tasting the bit of flesh again. "Does something in you long for the stretch, for more?"

Nicolo's breath caught. He could not speak. He rutted against Yusuf, his thighs bunched and flexed as they tried to arch him up into Yusuf.

"Do you ache?" Yusuf repeated. He tapped Nicolo's lower lip with his fingers. "Do you want me to ease it? Hm?"

Nicolo's mouth parted. He wheezed, trying to reply but instead opened his mouth wider to let Yusuf dip his fingers in.

"Get me ready for you," Yusuf murmured. He felt his groin tighten, unbearable yet wonderfully as he watched Nicolo's tongue wrap around his two fingers to wetthem.

Nicolo suddenly made a face and gagged.

Alarmed, Yusuf climbed off Nicolo. His heart hammered as Nicolo sat up and coughed.

"Hobi?" Yusuf asked anxiously. His chest squeezed as Nicolol grimaced.

"What..." Nicolo gagged. "Was on your fingers?"

"Eh?" Yusuf stared down at his fingers then across at Nicolo, who stuck out his tongue.

Yusuf burst out laughing at the black stripe that ran down Nicolo's tongue.

"Oh, sorry," Yusuf managed. He tapped the bottom of Nicolo's chin to try to get the other to stop looking so crossed.

Yusuf gulped back the chuckles. He held up both hands. The other was still smeared with black dust.

"Charcoal," Yusuf snickered. "It must have covered my hands and I..." He clasped Nicolo's shoulders. His own shook too much.

"Oh my heart, I am truly sorry, but your face..."

Yusuf pitched forward into Nicolo's shoulder. He patted Nicolo's shoulders, his laughter renewed when Nicolo sighed.

"Charcoal?" Nicolo did not sound upset. He sounded odd. "As in...were you drawing?"

Yusuf calmed down as best he could. He found himself under a hopeful gaze.

With a steadying breath, Yusuf nodded. He twisted around, reaching behind him for the leather wrap he had made.

Nicolo was silent as he held the small parcel in his hands. He loosened the leather ties and the flap fell open to the stack of paper from Cairo.

"When I no longer saw the paper on the table, I thought you have burned them," Nicolo said quietly. He lifted one sheet that has the horse and hens sketched on it. He stilled at the simple sketch of his own arm, his eye, the side of the hair Yusuf helped trim to even the chop that happened in battle.

"I was tempted to," Yusuf admitted. "But you suffered so much to get this for me. It seemed ungrateful to throw it away."

"If you did, I would have understood," Nicolo sighed, "This would remind you of what I have done."

Yusuf cleared his throat. "This reminds me of what you felt for me."

Nicolo stared at Yusuf.

Yusuf took back the leather wrap. "I admit the idea of touching ink and pen again still fills me with guilt and grief, but this also represented what you would do for me, as equal if not more of what I would do for you."

Yusuf shrugged. "The drawings are crude with charcoal, but they are drawn with my feelings for you, on the paper created from your feelings for me."

The leather wrap creaked when Yusuf curled the bundle in his hands.

"I would never throw that away so callously."

Nicolo was silent, his eyes on the wrap that held the last remaining stack of paper.

"If you like," Nicolo offered. "I could bind them into a book, so the pages will stay together."

Yusuf smiled at Nicolo. "That is a good idea."

Nicolo seemed to struggle with a decision. He bit his lower lip in thought.

Abruptly, Nicolo rose to his feet. There was a moment the sun shone behind him and his lithe form seemed to flare with a light that made Yusuf's breath catch.

Nicolo extended a hand.

"Let us go back."

"To sleep?" Yusuf joked, trying to keep his voice steady.

Nicolo's smile was shaky, but his eyes were intense on Yusuf.

"I have something to show you."
--------------

Apparently, I need plot in a PWP otherwise my brain whines, "But WHY are they having filthy sex?" (headdesk) LOL

Hoping to post tomorrow, but most likely late! I'm on potato duty tomorrow. My fault: I whined I wanted curried mashed potatoes.

NEW HERE: Needs of the Other 19C/20

[dr_libra_phd]

No excuse other than I smell like curry in my braids all day. But I regret nothing as I have potatoes for lunch and later for dinner!

———————————————-
Part 19C
———————————————-

(Nicolo)

Somewhere outside of Alexandria, 12th century




He was not ready.

Nicolo’s heart pounded as he rose to his feet. He shook out Yusuf’s cloak and wrapped it around himself.

“Ah,” Yusuf commented lightly. He collected his leather roll and the jar of figs. “Then the thing you wish to show me was not you walking back to our house. Pity.”

Nicolo narrowed his eyes at Yusuf. The other grinned back. He was at ease of his lack of attire. Yusuf stood with the jar against his hip.

"Would you like the cloak?" Nicolo offered as he wrapped it tighter around himself. The hens and their horse was the only ones here, but it still felt odd to walk around nude. Even bathing from the stream, Nicolo insisted on dressing. Yusuf was more eager to pull the clothing off Nicolo once they were in the house.

It was not the reason why Nicolo insisted. It was an unexpected benefit.

Yusuf's grin broadened as his eyes raked up Nicolo's body.

"If it means it is off your body, then yes, I want the cloak."

Nicolo shook his head, his mouth ticking up as they padded towards their home. Yusuf chuckled softly. Nicolo was torn between amusement and exasperation.

The anxious bind around his chest eased. Nicolo's toes dug into the grass. The cloak brushed over his cock and buttocks.

But it was not this strange, heavy feeling of someone else. And Nicolo realized that was Yusuf’s intent. He relaxed as he drew closer to home. When the door was within sight, an idea formed.

Nicolo shrugged off the cloak. The cloak slithered down his body and pooled to his feet.

Behind him, Yusuf choked.

Nicolo turned around. Yusuf swallowed hard, his eyes lingering on Nicolo's sex before slowly following the body up to Nicolo’s eyes.

With an arched eyebrow, Nicolo walked backwards. He kept his stare on Yusuf.

Yusuf’s brown eyes swirled black as night. Nicolo walked slowly, flushing as he felt his cock shifted as he moved. How he must look. His gaze drifted to Yusuf’s cock. It stood flushed against Yusuf’s stomach, bobbing as Yusuf stalked—it was the only word for it—closer to Nicolo.

Before Nicolo could turn around, Yusuf crowded him to the door. His hands shot out on either side of Nicolo’s head.

“And what is it,” Yusuf purred, “that you would like to show me, hobi?”

Nicolo’s stomach clenched when Yusuf’s erection pressed against his hip. Yusuf’s muscular thighs flexed, his skin sliding across Nicolo’s flank.

“Not what you are thinking,” Nicolo managed. His lower back pressed to the door to stop from arching into Yusuf’s body, into that weight that was trapped between them.

“Oh?” Yusuf murmured. His legs flexed again, heated skin gliding over Nicolo’s. Leg hairs teased Nicolo’s skin.

“Do you know what I am thinking?” Yusuf lowered his head, his lips over Nicolo’s, but did not touch.

Nicolo curled a finger around Yusuf’s cock like a hook.

Yusuf’s breath stuttered against Nicolo.

“You are thinking the figs are ready?” Nicolo said casually. He gently tugged Yusuf’s erection closer. “And you would like to eat?” Another tug. A droplet fell on his hand.

“Because you are hungry,” Nicolo finished. He slipped his entire hand around Yusuf, let his hand skim the smooth length. He wiped the bead of moisture away.

“I am hungry,” Yusuf rumbled, “But not for figs. Should I show you against this door? Should I swallow down your cock, drain you dry? Should I have your legs around me as my fingers fill you?”

Nicolo’s body heated all over. It sounded like a threat and promise. A weight grew unbearable between his legs. He swayed towards Yusuf and forced himself to stop just as Yusuf leaned towards him.

“You s-should,” Nicolo rasped. He planted his hands on the lightly furred muscles and the heat of Yusuf’s body.

“But,” Nicolo nudged Yusuf away, “not now.” Nicolo grimaced and backtracked.

“Not yet,” Nicolo corrected himself. He patted Yusuf to take another step back so Nicolo could open the door.

Yusuf loomed. Heat poured out of Yusuf’s body. Nicolo found himself struggling not to lean into Yusuf’s body.

The palm sized bundle was tucked into Nicolo’s pack under their bed. He debated whether to give it to Yusuf or not since they left the village.

But Yusuf kept the paper from Cairo. Yusuf started making art again.

A hand dropped onto Nicolo’s shoulder. When he looked up, Yusuf was on their bed. Yusuf’s eyes were cloudy with concern.

“If I am going too fast,” Yusuf murmured, “you know you can tell me?” His eyes went to Nicolo’s hand. He smiled faintly.

“Ah.”

Yusuf studied Nicolo as he sat down next to Yusuf.

“I have something for you,” Nicolo stammered. “But I am not sure how you will react or if you would wish it gone.”

“I refuse nothing from you,” Yusuf said quietly. “But you gave me so much. You did not need to...”

Yusuf trailed off when Nicolo opened the cloth.

“You did not want the pen, yet you kept it to remember,” Nicolo explained. “I thought it best if you remember it with something else.”

Yusuf gingerly picked up the small strip of silver. It was half the length of Yusuf’s thumb, narrower as well. Yusuf plucked at the chain threaded through the tiny loop.

But as Yusuf held it up to the light their home offered, Nicolo was struck with a sinking feeling. He etched the cartouche as close as he remembered. But now, in Yusuf’s artistic hands, the chain looked too thick. The plaque suddenly looked nothing like the inscriptions Yusuf had pointed out.

“There was little silver from the pen’s tip,” Nicolo fumbled. “The metal smith could not salvage enough for what he needed. I...” Nicolo took a deep breath.

“I used the silver in the pen and one of D-one of the silver coins he gave me.”

The silver plaque disappeared within Yusuf’s fist.

Nicolo set his jaw and pushed the words out.

“It was when I was first...” Nicolo exhaled.

“He paid me two silver coins to be the one to teach me how to service others.” Nicolo stared hard at Yusuf’s fist. It was on top of Yusuf’s knee, the silver cartouche inside.

“I used one coin to buy what we needed, but I worried the coin would run out again. I was sure it would be only one time and this was all we would have. I put it away.”

Nicolo’s thumb dug into the mattress.

“But coin ran out faster than I expected. I now know it was his doing, to force me to seek those who would pay for my...service.”

Nicolo gestured weakly to Yusuf’s fist.

“I forgot about the coin. When the metal smith said it was not enough even with my earrings, I thought of the coin.”

Yusuf opened his hand and considered the cartouche. He traced the lines with a trembling finger.

“You remembered,” Yusuf said quietly.

Nicolo nodded. The three symbols gleamed within the cartouche.

“The sun. The moon. The stars.” Nicolo took a deep breath. “You showed me these on the pyramids as we traveled.”

Yusuf’s finger stroked the lines etched into the silver.

Yusuf lifted it up higher by the chain. “It shines like a star.”

Nicolo’s throat worked. “The pen gives you sorrow.” He shook his head when Yusuf opened his mouth to deny it. “I know you think of it as something else, but it also gives you sorrow.”

The pendent spun in the chain. It was simple, too simple. It was nothing like the rings Yusuf sold when there was no work to be found.

“One day,” Nicolo rasped. “We will get your rings back, but for now, I thought this...”

Nicolo shook his head.

“Help me put this on, hobi.”

Nicolo met Yusuf’s eyes. They glittered wetly as they gazed back.

“Are you sure?” Nicolo ventured. He gestured weakly at the chain. “There was not enough silver to make a stronger chain. The design, I was not sure if I remembered the symbols correctly.”

Yusuf held up the chain, waiting.

Nicolo was unsure why his hands shook as he took the necklace. The pendent flashed white.

Yusuf bowed his head, his curls flattened on the side he slept. The chain caught briefly as Nicolo looped the necklace over his head.

The pendent settled low on Yusuf’s sternum. Against Yusuf’s brown skin, the piece looked impossibly bright.

Yusuf gazed down at the cartouche with awe. He stroked it with a thumb.

“I also know what you are doing,” Nicolo murmured. “It is not necessary, Yusuf.”

Yusuf winced. He lifted his eyes. His mouth crooked into a half-grimace.

Warmth filled Nicolo’s chest as he considered Yusuf and the flushed cheeks.

“You do not need to be careful with me.” Nicolo smiled faintly. “Indulging me, spoiling me, pleasuring me...”

“Was I that obvious?” Yusuf scratched his beard.

“Not at first, but as the day went, I realized your intention.” Nicolo laughed softly.

“You worry I am too anxious. You stretched and filled me in hopes of sparing me any discomfort later and...”

Yusuf’s knee pressed against Nicolo’s.

“Keeping you sated and spent all day is something I relish doing," Yusuf said. "I am not much a martyr when I take such delight doing this.”

“I do not doubt you enjoy trying to take me apart,” Nicolo remarked dryly.

“Trying?” Yusuf sounded insulted. He chuckled when Nicolo rolled his eyes. “Does this mean I failed to render you speechless?”

Nicolo huffed as Yusuf pulled him closer. His eyes closed when he felt Yusuf’s beard tickling his throat. Nicolo grumbled as Yusuf pulled back.

“Have I failed to fill every part of you so you will not feel empty?” Yusuf murmured. He slipped a hand under Nicolo. He palmed Nicolo’s cheek, spreading him.

“Have I failed to swallow every breath?”

Yusuf crushed his lips over Nicolo’s, his tongue darting in when Nicolo’s mouth parted. The kiss deepened as Yusuf’s hand on his buttocks knead the cheek, thumb massaging the thin skin between his taint and his sacs.

Nicolo felt Yusuf’s pendent, cool and slender trapped between their chests.

“Have I failed to touch every part of you?” Yusuf rasped. He eased Nicolo down to the mattress. Yusuf arched, pressing their bellies together, the silver piece spinning in the space between them. Nicolo moaned into Yusuf's throat, his skin tingling wherever the pendent touched.

Yusuf gripped Nicolo’s shoulders. His hips rolled forward, their lengths lining up into a heated and rough pace.

Nicolo lifted his right leg and hooked it around Yusuf's middle. He felt Yusuf growl, the vibration sinking into his thigh. Yusuf thrummed against his leg, buttocks clenching as he rutted into Nicolo.

Sweat was not enough to ease their bodies into the slow rolling pace they enjoy, but Nicolo loathed to stop. The dish of oil for their bread was out of reach. The table was barely visible out of the corner of his eye.

Yet Yusuf slowed, as if the dish of oil was within his sight, piquing his awareness. He panted, the wild edge in his eyes receding.

"Yusuf," Nicolo breathed. "Do not fear I will break. " He wrapped his hands around Yusuf's biceps to feel the flex and bulge of his arms as they fought to keep Yusuf above him. He arched up, his pelvis jutting up as high as he could manage under Yusuf.

They groaned at the contact. Sweat and bitter musk rose between them, thicker in the air as Nicolo struggled to thrust up against Yusuf.

"I will not break," Nicolo panted. "Please..."

"Break?" Yusuf scoffed breathlessly, "You will not break, Nicolo di Genova. You never have. But task me to try. I dare you."

The bed underneath Nicolo bobbed under Nicolo like a current. Yusuf vibrated against Nicolo's leg. He swayed into Nicolo, his cock leaking trails across Nicolo's stomach.

Nicolo's skin shrank around him. He gasped against Yusuf as he swayed, caught within Yusuf's motion. He was dizzy, his words spilling out broken and desperate. Yusuf was trapped within the cage of his legs, bucking and jerking their erections together.

Yusuf slipped his hand under Nicolo's left leg. Nicolo groaned as Yusuf's fingers dug into his hip, blunt, bruising, challenging.

"Yes," Nicolo said, his eyes glued to Yusuf. "Here. Now."

Yusuf's pace stuttered. "I should--"

Nicolo's fingers curled bloodless around Yusuf's arms.

"Please. Now. Please do not make me beg. I will not, but if you do not...Yus--"

With an abrupt tug, Yusuf yanked Nicolo closer to his groin. With each snap of his hips, Yusuf pulled Nicolo to him.

It was an imitation of what Nicolo imagined. Yusuf tugged Nicolo towards him as his cock clashed with Nicolo's. The bed jolted underneath. Yusuf's knees loudly scraped across the padding as he thrust into a feverish pace, their erections rubbing frantically against each other.

Yusuf huffed. He clutched hard into the muscle of Nicolo's flank. Yusuf's moves grew erratic. It felt like they were grappling each other. The push and tug blurred into endless waves of heat.

The bed creaked, shaking as Yusuf's hips snapped roughly over Nicolo. He came, when, they were not sure. Or perhaps it was Nicolo. White fluid spread messily between them, slicking skin, mixing with sweat.

"Nic--" Yusuf choked. He leaned into Nicolo, their cocks uncomfortably crushed to each other within the tight space. Tears or sweat dripped down into the hollows of Nicolo's throat.

"Hobi," Yusuf chanted. "My Nicolo, you have my heart. You have my everything. I love you. I lo--"

"Let me have you," Nicolo groaned.

Yusuf was flushed. He gasped around his, "Yes...Anything..."

"The oil," Nicolo rasped. He regretted his words when Yusuf turned away. Nicolo curled his hands tighter around Yusuf's arms when Yusuf's weight eased off. He whined in the back of his throat. There was a growing ache in his belly, a hollow, carved out feeling that made his hole spasm. It hurt, the need. It hurt.

Nicolo closed his eyes when he felt Yusuf's oil slicked fingers on him, oil dribbling over his taint. Nicolo's leg slipped off, twitching as two fingers pushed drops of oil into him before breaching him. They hooked and twisted inside Nicolo.

"Oh, oh..."

"My heart...careful...wait..."

The fingers thrust, spread apart, closing back together as they rotated in and out.

"Uh, uh..." Nicolo panted. The fingers reshaped him, his body quivering to yield. When the third finger pushed in, Nicolo wanted to scream. The oil was warm, the fingers moved so boldly inside him.

Nicolo felt a growing pang, his hole fluttering, convulsing with that same need. He clenched around Yusuf's fingers. Yusuf groaned. Nicolo bear down abruptly, rocking, his pelvis jerking up as he tried to get them deeper.

"Slower, careful, my heart. We should..." Yusuf dropped his head onto Nicolo's chest. He ground his returning erection along Nicolo's side, his fingers moving roughly inside him out of rhythm.

"Yusuf," Nicolo plead. He dimly heard himself babble something, in a language that was his own, maybe, did he say something? His ears were filled with Yusuf's choked off sounds. Concern and lust warred within Yusuf. His desperation hung heavy between his legs, dark and engorged. It looked painful. Yusuf sounded like he was in pain.

Nicolo pulled Yusuf close to his face. He felt Yusuf's cock pressed hot into his belly.

Yusuf's pupils were overblown, fevered as they gazed onto Nicolo. His breathing was ragged. He could barely speak.

So Nicolo spoke for both of them .

"Yusuf," Nicolo hissed as he arched up to Yusuf, squeezed the thick fingers in him as hard as he could.

"Yusuf al-Kaysani, I dare you."

Yusuf's eyes widened.

Nicolo clutched Yusuf's arms.

"You would shirk on your promise to me? You dare?"

Yusuf stared at Nicolo first with shock. Then his eyes bloomed into a dark fire. His breathing roughened even more, but his hands were steady when they slipped under Nicolo's thighs and pulled Nicolo's knees over his shoulders.

Nicolo smoothed damp palms down the length of Yusuf's arms as he laid back and wait to be consumed.
--------------------

Saturday! I am sleeping off food tomorrow and beat my cousins in Mario Cart! LOL.

NEW HERE: Needs of the Other 19D/20

[dr_libra_phd]

I worked and reworked this part since Thursday night. Yup. Considering the rest of the fic, this was the hardest part to write. Weird. LOL


———————————————-
Part 19D
———————————————-

(Yusuf)

Somewhere outside of Alexandria, 12th century




Perhaps he was the one who was not ready.

Yusuf smoothed his hands down Nicolo’s flank. Over and over.

Was Nicolo this pale before? Or was he paler now—no, that can not be. The sun has graced him with a faint tan that only made his eyes more startling to behold. His hair has captured sunlight once again, streaks of reddish gold among mahogany. No, he was not as pale as before.

Yusuf watched, transfixed at a bead of oil sliding down Nicolo’s skin. It looked like a tear. His stomach churned. He suddenly felt cumbersome, his fingers too large inside Nicolo, too blunt. Something inside him howled to press into that tight opening with more than just his fingers and take what was before him.

But another part of him recoiled at the thought of pushing in too soon, too strong, too fast. His fingers pressed through with such resistance, how could he think his cock would be easily welcomed?

Around Yusuf’s fingers, Nicolo’s dark heat wrapped tighter. Yusuf could not stifle his moan. He felt Nicolo’s pulse against the pads of his fingers. When he moved his fingers, he felt Nicolo’s body throb around him slick and hot. The clutch of the most intimate space swelled and moved around his fingers.

Yusuf’s head squeezed tight. His chest seized with such want yet also with such fear.

“Yusuf,” Nicolo rasped. Look at me, his voice commanded.

Eyes burning, Yusuf lifted his heavy head to stare dazed at Nicolo.

His face flushed, his brow damp with sweat, Nicolo locked his gaze with Yusuf. Yusuf could not look away.

"Yusuf al-Kaysani, I dare you."

Nicolo’s hands curled around Yusuf’s elbows. His mouth was set in a determined line. He appeared as the fighter by his side, not splayed out before Yusuf.

"You would shirk on your promise to me?” Nicolo’s grip was starting to numb Yusuf’s arms. He clenched hard around Yusuf’s fingers. “You dare?"

Nicolo’s voice reverberated. Nicolo’s demand shivered up Yusuf’s arms

Yusuf gaped at Nicolo. Nicolo stared back, his jaw set, his eyes fevered with a mix of challenge and fear.

It was the fear that roused Yusuf out from his own. Nicolo’s eyes echoed the quelling inside Yusuf. And Yusuf could not ignore the flicker of doubt behind the gleam.

Yusuf breathed hard, his fingers pulling out. The need to gather Nicolo to him warred with the need to settle over Nicolo with his body.

Look at me, Yusuf echoed in his gaze as he pulled Nicolo’s knees to fold over his shoulders. Nicolo lay before him, exposed body and heart. But his expression was of trust, his limbs relaxing as Yusuf slipped the cushion under his buttocks. Nicolo was silent, his face open, unshadowed as Yusuf spread him open with his trembling hands.

Nicolo traced Yusuf's arms as he settled deeper onto the bed. The padding sank under their weight and Nicolo shot Yusuf a rueful grimace when he twitched.

Yusuf clasped hands over Nicolo’s knees, watching as toned thighs flexed. The puckered entrance, that dark swirl of Nicolo’s taint revealed itself.

Yusuf turned his head, kissed the side of Nicolo’s left knee. His hands swept down, to the fold of Nicolo’s hips. Nicolo’s buttocks quivered over Yusuf’s palms as thumbs pressed in and spread his cheeks wider.

“Careful,” Yusuf murmured although he was not sure if he was speaking to Nicolo or himself. His erection, which waned in the beginning, now tapped Nicolo’s legs, leaking with impatience. His cock wept, trickles from his slit dripping onto Nicolo’s flushed cock.

The dish of oil shook as Yusuf held it over Nicolo’s taint. He watched, mouth dry, as two drops pooled at the rim.

Nicolo made a soft sound as Yusuf pressed his fingers in again, pushing the oil in. He stroked carefully, two fingers like crossing swords inside Nicolo, kneading slicked walls. He felt the tension there, around him, but it was not clear what the tension hinted.

“Yusuf,” Nicolo half-sighed his name. The tension was in his voice as well. Nicolo reached down and touched Yusuf’s wrist, staying there as Yusuf’s hand moved to work Nicolo loose.

The warmth of Nicolo’s long fingers around Yusuf’s wrist calmed him. He twisted his fingers, turning just so, petting over that spot with gentle precision.

“Oh,” Nicolo murmured, shuddering around Yusuf’s touch. His hand curled around Yusuf’s wrist, following as Yusuf turned his hand and massaged the spot again.

“Uh...” Nicolo breathed out. “Uh...Yus—“ He whimpered.

Nicolo was tenser now, which was not Yusuf’s intention. He murmured, replying to Nicolo’s soft sounds with gentle ones of his own. He eased away from that spot. He kissed both knees when Nicolo uttered a broken and disappointed sound.

Yusuf inserted a third finger in. He hesitated before spreading the three digits apart inside Nicolo. He has always kept them cinched together before.

Nicolo’s left knee jerked, knocking under Yusuf’s jaw.

“S-sorry,” Nicolo whimpered. His right knee did the same when Yusuf widened the spread. “Oh...s-sor...”

Yusuf shushed Nicolo as his fingers slipped out. His throat worked as he tried to push them back in.

“You are tight,” Yusuf murmured, breaking the unspoken agreement not to talk to each other. “I...I may not fit.”

“You will.” Nicolo sounded dazed, yet sure. His hand around Yusuf’s wrist tightened.

“Please, no more. Yusuf, now.”

Nicolo’s hand drifted to Yusuf’s cock. He could not reach, not quite, his blunt fingers skimming the engorged cock.

Yusuf let out a groan bore of pain and hunger. He yearned to lean in, chase Nicolo’s hand. His cock throbbed as he tipped oil over his length. He heard splatters of oil on the padding--oh, he forgot the pelts. Wait, he wanted to pull the blanket close.

His hand gingerly coated his cock. He coated his hand with more oil. Was it enough? Should he get more? Should he pour more over Nicolo?

Too soon, Yusuf's erection tapped against Nicolo’s taint.

“You will tell me to stop if I hurt you,” Yusuf rasped as he took hold of himself. Loosely. Any firmer and he would shatter all over Nicolo.

“No,” Nicolo said calmly despite his flushed face. “No, I will not.”

“Ho—”

“I will not,” Nicolo interrupted. “Because you will not hurt me.”

Yusuf choked out a sad laugh, but did not argue. He leaned in, one hand under Nicolo’s hip to tilt him up more, the other hand guiding his erection.

No, no, no, this would not work, Yusuf thought as his cock rested on the rim of Nicolo’s entrance. His breath stuttered. He rubbed Nicolo’s hole, at the swirl of muscle and thought how small it looked compared to the swollen head of his cock.

“Yusuf,” Nicolo whispered urgently. He stared at Yusuf when he lifted his eyes.

“Look at me.”

Yusuf’s throat worked. He nodded with difficulty. His eyes locked with Nicolo’s, Yusuf flexed, his hips rolling, pressing his cock into the knot of muscle.

Nicolo drew in a long breath, shuddering as he exhaled.

There was a brief sensation of his cock being squeezed before muscles relaxed. Yusuf’s blunt head pushed past the muscular ring. There was a faint wet sound. A drop of oil plopped to the mattress under them.

Loud in the silence of their home, Nicolo’s breath stuttered. Yusuf froze.

Nicolo’s eyes briefly closed, brow furrowing. There was an expression of intense concentration. One of his hands drifted down to where they were linked. He ran a light touch up along Yusuf’s cock. He traced it down to his entrance.

“Oh,” Nicolo exhaled.

Nicolo’s eyes slowly opened. He smiled up at Yusuf.

Yusuf soaked in that smile, that wonderment and warmth in those gray-blue eyes, that hand caressing the connection of their bodies.

With Nicolo’s smile tucked warm in his heart, Yusuf wove his fingers through Nicolo’s hand and leaned in.

His cock caught within the clutch of Nicolo’s body. Yusuf grimaced. Nicolo’s hand curled briefly within his grasp. Nicolo said nothing. He stayed quiet as Yusuf hesitantly pushed harder.

Yusuf sank—it was the only way to describe it—into a well of heat. Nicolo’s hand squeezed, out of assurance not pain and was that not an irony? Nicolo’s lean body unfurled bare before Yusuf and he was the one reassuring Yusuf instead of the other way around.

There were words Yusuf should offer, gestures and smiles he should give as he slipped into a dark heat Nicolo offered no other. This here, around his cock, around his heart, was his and his alone.

The enormity of Nicolo’s gift struck Yusuf as he locked completely into his Nicolo, his sacs flushed to the soft skin under Nicolo’s buttocks. Yusuf suddenly felt humbled, utterly bowed as he felt Nicolo breathe around him.

“Hobi,” Yusuf whispered. He stroked Nicolo’s left knee and down his leg with his other hand. He could not bear to release Nicolo’s hand in his other hand. He kissed the knee over his shoulder. He turned and rubbed his bread over the bend. The words he wanted to say grew thick and lodged in his throat.

Yusuf stayed still, waiting for Nicolo to grow accustomed to his girth. Four fingers was nothing compared to the wide base of his sex. Nicolo’s entrance was a pale line around his erection as it yawned to try to fit around him.

Nicolo’s breath was measured, a careful rhythm as he adjusted.

Yusuf murmured a sound. The sensation of Nicolo around him robbed him of real words. He mumbled soft sounds as he stroked Nicolo’s leg.

“You and I,” Nicolo suddenly rasped. He smiled again, a fragile curve of his mouth, his eyes suspiciously bright.

“You and I,” Yusuf echoed. He rested his head against Nicolo's knee. His lower back ached the longer he stayed still inside Nicolo.

"My dearest treasure," Yusuf murmured. He kissed Nicolo's knee and felt the dampness in his eyes trickle down Nicolo's thigh. "My everything. My Nicolo."

Nicolo squeezed Yusuf's hand again.

"You are big," Nicolo rasped. "But you fit." He grasped Yusuf's hand tighter. "I will not break. You can not break me. We can not be broken. Yusuf...please...I can feel you holding back."

Yusuf nodded against Nicolo's knee. He gripped Nicolo's hand, their combined hands over Nicolo's stomach. His hips rolled back and he carefully pulled out until his head caught the ridged rim. He waited. When Nicolo exhaled, he pushed and found himself sliding into Nicolo, deeper, in a single stroke.

They both moaned. Nicolo's hand spasm in Yusuf's grip. Nicolo's stomach clenched, sinking as get sucked in a steadying breath.

"Oh," Nicolo gasped, almost to himself.

Yusuf did it again and again, slow, swaying deeper into Nicolo, hunched awkwardly so he could continue holding Nicolo's hand while he thrust.

Yusuf was not sure what changed or when. His pace started to quicken, still careful, but the times between his withdrawal and thrust were shorter. Nicolo's belly under their hands, clenched each time Yusuf sank back in.

It was easier to move inside Nicolo now and Yusuf's chest grew heavy at the thought why. The oil slurped loudly as he moved, Nicolo's small noises pitched soft and then loud, louder as Yusuf moved.

"Ah, ah, ah..."

It was not clear who spoke, who cried out so needy, so breathless. Yusuf's ears roared, his heart's pounding drowning out whatever noises he was making with his mouth parted.

Nicolo tugged Yusuf's hand with each thrust. He was not looking at Yusuf now. He has his eyes shut, his face flushed, damp with sweat. He held tight to Yusuf's hand, tighter, a wordless command Yusuf could not disobey.

The bed creaked underneath them. The padding seemed to rise and fall like a stormy ocean. Someone panted loudly. Someone was sobbing pleas.

Yusuf's lower back ached as he thrust harder, deeper, his hand now tugged closer to Nicolo's heart. He clamped his other hand over Nicolo's hip. Each of his thrusts kept pushing Nicolo higher on the bed.

He should slow down. He should say something. He should--Yusuf moaned as Nicolo clenched so hard around him, his cock twitched and something snapped inside him.

He pounded--he should slow down--oh, the hot velvety grip on his cock, the sounds of Nicolo keening against his throat--wait, when had he slumped into Nicolo? It did not matter. He felt the pendent sliding between their damp bodies. Nicolo's right leg slipped off his shoulder and was now wrapped around Yusuf's middle.

Their hands had fumbled apart. Nicolo clutched Yusuf's shoulders as he bucked, pinned between Yusuf and the bed. Yusuf gripped Nicolo's hips to keep Nicolo from jolting away with each thrust and because he needed an anchor, the feel of Nicolo flexing under him tethered him to this life. Yusuf felt like he was wrenched left and right as he piston into Nicolo.

He needed to slow down. Careful. Gentle. His Hob--hobi, hobi, hobi...

Yusuf cried out as Nicolo's heel on his lower back prodded him. Yusuf's knees burned as they dug into the padding. His lower back ached as he struggled between thrusting deeper and slowing down.

But Nicolo would not let him. He tugged Yusuf closer, bending himself in half. He babbled, whimpering, "There, yes, there, Yu--Oh, oh, please..." into Yusuf's ear.

Reason fled. Sense exploded and drowned Yusuf. He thrust. He burrowed deep. He shouted and Nicolo shouted back. And suddenly it was too much and not enough when Yusuf threw his head back, roaring as he came, filling Nicolo, his release flooding his Nicolo and draining out of him.

Nicolo wailed as he followed. He splattered between them, shuddering as Yusuf feverishly continued to thrust and came once more.

Yusuf murmured words that were swallowed up by Nicolo's greedy mouth. He continued to move inside Nicolo, gentler now before Nicolo nudged him back with a violent shudder yet also with a regretful moan.

"You and I," Nicolo mumbled. He curled into Yusuf, his body trembling, his legs tangling with Yusuf's. There was a wet spot under them, Yusuf's release leaked out of Nicolo with each shiver.

"You and I," Yusuf croaked as he pulled Nicolo to him. "Thank you, my heart. Thank you." He hugged Nicolo to him.

"Sleep," Nicolo muttered. He hooked a finger into Yusuf's chain. "Later?" Nicolo sounded sleepy yet hopeful.

"Later," Yusuf agreed. He kissed the top of Nicolo's hair and followed Nicolo to sleep.

--------------------------
Monday? I need a "Later" Whew. :)

NEW HERE: Needs of the Other 20A/20

[dr_libra_phd]

I'm a little teary, guys.


———————————————-
Part 20A
———————————————-

(Nicolo)

Somewhere outside of Alexandria, 12th century




It was like no other.

Nicolo exhaled as that fullness left him. He felt oddly abandoned despite the fact the cock stretched him again a scant moment later.

Yusuf’s hands cradled his hips, his thumbs doing inexplicably wonderful things into his skin. They made his knees braced against Yusuf’s sides twitch so hard, he worried he would crack a rib.

Nicolo would ask if Yusuf was drawing on his skin, but then Yusuf’s cock slipped in deeper and—

“There,” Nicolo groaned. He arched into the next thrust. He learned it made each stroke feel more...just more. It also made Yusuf make that sound.

“Here?” Yusuf growled, half purred. He gripped Nicolo’s hips tighter. He rumbled, a low rolling hum that seemed to come from his belly.

Yes, that sound.

Nicolo keened, his hands reaching to find Yusuf as Yusuf snapped his hips forward in a one-two stroke that lanced across that spot deep within and sent bolts rippling throughout all Nicolo’s limbs.

“Ye—ah, ah, y-yes, th—Yusuf...”

Nicolo tried to tell Yusuf that was the spot, but each time, his breath was stolen by another moment of fullness and sparks that overtook his thoughts. His knees jerked, his body jolting off the bed as Yusuf started to pick up speed again.

The house smelled of the figs they stewed and the oil they smeared on their bodies. The space was still warm from the sun that hung high above their roof. The air was dry, taking away the sweat and left their skin sticky and tight.

After a brief respite, Yusuf and Nicolo had eaten the figs smeared on warm bread. It was meant for the afternoon and now they consumed as an evening meal. They fed each other the sweet remains when there was no more bread to be had. They drank water, cleaned each other with a wet rag, put out feed for their animals and then tumbled back into bed, laughing and giggling like they were children.

The second time was slower, almost meditative. They touched each other with careful hands. It was as if it was the first time: learning their bodies and all the intimate places they could now touch. When Yusuf entered Nicolo, he slipped into place. They swayed together, Nicolo’s legs splayed wide as Yusuf leaned in, kissing him in-between strokes, spilling into Nicolo again and again until Nicolo felt full even when Yusuf’s cock left him.

But right now, in the golden light of a sun starting to rise, their pace turned desperate again. Nicolo had woken up to Yusuf sleepily gazing at him from above, his head propped up with a fist, his other hand lazily pulling his own cock, dripping spots of white between them on the bed.

No words were needed. Nicolo reached for Yusuf and soon they grappled each other, huffing, eyes bright and mouths curved.

It felt inevitable. It felt like it was natural for Yusuf to spread the rest of the oil onto his fingers and cock. When Yusuf’s cock pushed back into Nicolo, Nicolo’s body welcomed Yusuf with only a twinge over the stretch. And Yusuf rocked into Nicolo, his hand caressing Nicolo’s sex into aching fullness.

When Yusuf came and Nicolo followed, it felt like destiny.

“Hobi...” Yusuf groaned, signaling he was once again tumbling into that fevered pace he could not control and Nicolo craved.

Nicolo’s knees squeezed Yusuf in reply. He moaned as Yusuf tugged Nicolo into his thrusts, his fingers leaving bruises on his hips that faded regretfully too soon.

There. Right there. Yusuf found that intimate unseen spot inside Nicolo again. Yusuf again felt large, stretching Nicolo just to the edge of uncomfortable, locking deep inside. Nicolo found himself rocking helplessly along with Yusuf, their bodies linked and moving as one.

“Ah!” Nicolo cried out as one stroke scraped him along the mattress before his knees clamped against Yusuf so he would not be pulled off from Yusuf’s cock.

Yusuf petted Nicolo’s erection in apology and slammed harder into Nicolo as compensation. His eyes were glazed over, his cheeks red with exertion. Sweat and Nicolo’s head at night has flattened the chest hair into a matted mess.

“Nicolo, my Nicolo, I can not stop, oh, oh, you feel glorious, I can be lost in you forever—Nicolo, my heart...”

The mattress rubbed raw patches along Nicolo’s back and buttocks, stinging and healing as Nicolo was pulled across the bed by Yusuf’s cock. He panted, no longer caring how he must look arching and hands flailing to touch, his cock bouncing against his belly.

Morning has crept into the house despite the covered window. And the air warmed, promising a good day. The light cast strips of shadows around Yusuf and across Nicolo’s heaving belly.

Yusuf pulled Nicolo up until Nicolo was now shuddering and bucking over Yusuf’s lap. Nicolo straddled Yusuf’s thighs and grunted as Yusuf steered him onto his cock.

The pace matched their ragged breathing, the forceful thrusts matched the hard thumping of their hearts.

“Oh...uh, uh, I-I...”

Nicolo forgot what he was going to say as Yusuf drew him closer, hugging him chest to chest. Yusuf reached around, splayed a hand on Nicolo’s lower back. The other around Nicolo’s shoulders. Yusuf kept him close, close enough Nicolo saw the lines crinkling at the corners of his eyes as he thrust up into Nicolo.

Nicolo keened. The changed angle struck something deep again and again without fail. Nicolo clung to Yusuf's shoulders as he rode Yusuf’s cock, up and down over Yusuf’s lap.

The coiling of cold heat wrenched soft, broken sounds from Nicolo’s throat. He sagged forward, into Yusuf’s embrace and rode Yusuf’s erection. It seemed endless. Nicolo’s legs ached as he struggled to bear down each time as Yusuf tugged Nicolo over his erection.

Nicolo dropped his forehead into Yusuf’s shoulder. Nicolo’s lower back spasm as he fought to stay on top of Yusuf’s lap. He slipped his arms around Yusuf’s torso. He felt Yusuf's chest heaving against him.

“Yu...Yusuf,” Nicolo whimpered.

Yusuf’s hand around Nicolo’s shoulders went up to tangle into Nicolo’s hair, gently tugging until Nicolo bared his neck.

The growl against Nicolo’s throat vibrated down to shiver violently in the pit of Nicolo’s stomach. Yusuf sucked hard, scraping teeth over Nicolo’s jugular.

Mine, Yusuf said in a kiss, his lips pressing hard into Nicolo’s neck.

Mine, the hot bloom of a bruise said. Heat flared on Nicolo’s neck.

The mark must have already faded because Yusuf uttered a forlorn sound and rubbed his nose over the spot. Nicolo hugged Yusuf tighter, clenched around his cock and kissed Yusuf’s beard over and over when Yusuf came. Nicolo felt the warm gush flooding into him. The thick release almost felt like a punch. It pushed out Nicolo’s release to spill between their bodies soon after.

Yusuf sighed, his hand on Nicolo’s hair gentling to match the slowing strokes into Nicolo’s body. He nosed Nicolo’s throat, over that spot again and again.

“Hobi,” Yusuf murmured. The pendant he wore tapped lightly on Nicolo’s sternum when he huddled closer.

Nicolo felt lightheaded with the rush of feeling he felt as Yusuf continued to pet his hair and thrust shallowly up into him, his hand stroking Nicolo’s back.

“All right,” Nicolo whispered into Yusuf’s ear. He ached, his skin too tight, too sensitive, but he would not deny Yusuf this.

Nicolo rested the side of his head against Yusuf’s beard. He drew up his hands and cradled the back of Yusuf’s head.

Stay, Nicolo’s hands said as they followed the shape of Yusuf’s head. Nicolo weakly clenched around Yusuf’s cock, still half-hard inside him.

Yusuf kissed Nicolo’s throat, a different spot, and swayed up into Nicolo, sighing as he came once more. His thighs flexed under Nicolo as warm fluid trickled out of Nicolo’s hole with each thrust. It dribbled down Nicolo’s inner thighs and over Yusuf’s lap.

Nicolo kept Yusuf close for as long as he could, murmuring wordless sounds to Yusuf’s sighs against his throat. But Yusuf sensed how raw Nicolo started feeling. He curled him arm around Nicolo’s shoulders, the other under Nicolo’s left knee.

Carefully, his brown eyes on Nicolo, Yusuf eased Nicolo onto the bed as he slipped out. Yusuf echoed the sigh Nicolo let escape.

“I...” Yusuf tried. He shook his head. He settled halfway over Nicolo. His lax cock was damp and rested in the fold of Nicolo’s hip. Yusuf turned his head. This time he was listening, his ear seeking Nicolo’s heartbeat. He smoothed a hand down Nicolo’s arm.

“Have patience with me,” Yusuf suddenly murmured, He rubbed his beard across Nicolo’s chest. He sighed when Nicolo slipped a hand into his curls again.

“Patience,” Nicolo rasped as he felt a curl and watched it spring up into a dark ribbon in Yusuf’s hair.

“It is a virtue I seem to lack with you,” Nicolo mused out loud. “The moment you touch me, I find myself greedy for more and now.”

Yusuf chuckled. He kissed the middle of Nicolo’s chest.

“The same,” Yusuf rumbled. He rested a hand above Nicolo’s navel.

“Listen to us,” Nicolo noted. He blinked heavy-lidded. Yusuf rubbed soothing circles on his stomach.

“For once you have the pretty words,” Yusuf continued, “And all I could think of was ‘The same’.” He dipped a fingertip into Nicolo’s navel and massaged the edges.

Oh, that felt nice. Nicolo squirmed.

“But still, I ask for patience,” Yusuf whispered. “I have yet to find a word that truly tells the world how I feel about you."

Nicolo absently ran his fingers through Yusuf's hair.

"I do not need words. I know." Nicolo mumbled. He blinked in surprise. How was he this tired so soon? He has yet to rise from their bed.

"A poem," Yusuf went on drowsily. "A speech? One word is too little, hobi. Perhaps an epic. I once heard of a Greek man who wrote a tale about another man and his travels. The name escaped me, but I know I will find it one day."

Nicolo made a face. "I do not need a poem."

"A short one?" Yusuf suggested. He kissed Nicolo's sternum, his hand moving lower to rub into the dark hairs of his groin.

"A homage," Yusuf said, his voice sinking lower. Nicolo shivered at Yusuf's words.

"Yes," Yusuf went on, "perhaps a few verses are better suited. A tale on your wondrous coc--"

Yusuf snickered when Nicolo growled, "No, absolutely not!" He tossed out even more appalling suggestions while Nicolo tried to nudge him away. Nicolo failed, though. He was laughing too hard.

Smirking, crawling slowly until he hung over Nicolo, held up by his knees and elbows, Yusuf's nose bumped Nicolo's. He smiled down, his cheeks red above the line of his beard. The pendant spun between them.

"Yusuf," Nicolo murmured. "I do not need it."

"Not even an inscription about your eyes and how my cock fills upon--"

Nicolo lightly punched Yusuf in the arm. Yusuf gasped, making an unconvincing wounded sound.

"No poetry about my...no, just no." Nicolo flushed. He looked up at Yusuf over him. He reached up, his fingers tracing the line of Yusuf's beard on his jaw.

"All I need and want is you," Nicolo breathed. He wished his voice was steadier. "Search all you want for the right word, Yusuf. But I do not need to hear it. I know."

Yusuf gazed down at Nicolo. His smile grew smaller, but fonder, in a way his eyes glinted with unshed tears.

"How about 'You and I,' my heart?" Yusuf rasped.

"Sounds perfect," Nicolo replied and pulled Yusuf down towards him.
----------------------------------
I'm tempted to write five more chapters of soft sexy boys, but writing them is like a potato chip. Can't just have one. LOL.

More tomorrow!

Re: Yusuf/Nicolo Forced Prostitution Fill : Needs of the Other 1/12

[(Anonymous)]

I love this ❤️ Maybe I’m confused but where are parts 2-16b? I would love to read the rest of this story!