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Yusuf/Nicolo Forced Prostitution Fill : Needs of the Other 3A/12

[dr_libra_phd]

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Part 3A
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(Yusuf)

Cairo, 12th century


"I am in your bed."

Yusuf looked up from his work. He was glad for the interruption. This particular pattern on the scroll frustrated him since yesterday.

Nicolo looked laughable in his waking state. His brown hair streaked with gold from the sun were in odd tangles around his head, flattened on one side. He looked like a nest of vipers curled on top of his head. There was a crease visible on his cheek; he had curled on side, burrowed his face into the folds of a woven blanket Yusuf found on his sleeping pallet the next day after he had griped about the unseasonable cold.

"Good morning," Yusuf offered, rather cheerfully despite having slept on Nicolo's bed last night. How Nicolo tolerate the draft from an unseen crack in the roof above him was a puzzle. One of many Yusuf has been finding himself wanting to decipher more and more of late.

Nicolo squinted at Yusuf, one eye still partially shut with sleep.

Yusuf's grin widened. He could not help it; Nicolo looked ridiculous and he told his friend as much as he tossed over a damp cloth for Nicolo to wipe the sleep from his eyes.

"Why am I in your bed?" Nicolo pressed insistently as he scrubbed his face clean.

"You were too heavy to carry all the way to your own bed," Yusuf teased. And oh, that was an interesting shade of pink tipping Nicolo's ears.

"But that meant you slept on my bed." Nicolo stared at Yusuf. "It is much colder--"

"Then you did know about the draft," Yusuf interrupted. "Why did you not say? This blanket should have gone to you."

The pink flush spread to Nicolo's cheeks. He went back to cleaning his face, using a damp corner to wipe around his mouth.

Yusuf realized he was staring yet he found he couldn't look away.

"I do not mind the draft," Nicolo muttered as he swiped the cloth across his lips. "I do not complain bitterly about the cold like you."

"That is because you were born close to the--must you rub so hard? Nicolo!"

Nicolo blinked at Yusuf, who rose to his feet at the sight of blood on his mouth. Nicolo had scrubbed furiously across his lips and the skin split.

"You look clean enough," Yusuf tsked as he crossed over to the bed. He made a face at the bloodstained cloth. There was no way to get rid of such stains. He mentally shrugged. He will cut another out from his old tunic. Pity. He was quite proud it, the colors dyed by his direction before he heeded the call to defend Jerusalem. It was too worn from crossing deserts. It outlived its purpose of keeping him warm.

"Am I?" Nicolo muttered. For some reason, he stared past his legs and perhaps even out the door. "I do not feel it."

"Hm?" Yusuf glanced at the basket set by their modest hearth. Damn. One egg and an even smaller chunk of cheese. Nicolo stayed asleep through Yusuf's careful administrations to clean the blood off his nape and would not rouse for the bread and tea. The bread was too dry and too spotty to be salvaged again.

Nicolo followed Yusuf's eyes. He shook his head.

"I am not very hungry," Nicolo muttered.

Yusuf frowned. "You look hungry."

"I thought you said I look clean."

"Nicolo," Yusuf sighed. He stopped himself from brushing a hand over a pronounced cheekbone. "I have not seen you this thin since we first met." His frown deepened. "You said the docks feed you. Does what they have not suit you?"

Nicolo shrugged and his tunic, already worn and stretched, slipped, revealing the hard lines of his clavicle.

Yusuf could not stop himself. He settled a hand on Nicolo's shoulder. He felt bone and little flesh twitch under his palm.

"We will share the egg and cheese," Yusuf decided. "We will go to the market after you eat all of it."

"I have to go to the doc--"

Yusuf's hand curled tighter on Nicolo's shoulder. His belly ached at how bone seemed to grind under his touch.

"No," Yusuf said, firmer. "We will go to market. I need more paper." And Nicolo needed food that would appease his belly and hopefully fill out the hollowness that clung to Nicolo's body.

"And oil for the lamp," Nicolo conceded, his shoulders slumping. His entire body seemed to sag with it. He appeared he could burrow into the blanket again.

"Very well," Nicolo grumbled as he wiggled out from the warm folds of the blanket. Too loose trousers shift, a glimpse of a swell of flesh and Yusuf found he needed to turn away, his belly hot for a reason he should not acknowledge. "We will go to the market."

"After we break fast," Yusuf reminded Nicolo.

Nicolo scowled.

"And," Yusuf chuckled, "after you fix your hair."

Nicolo's scowl turned puzzled.

"What is the matter with my hair?"