Fills Post
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Yusuf/Nicolo Forced Prostitution Fill : Needs of the Other 11D/14
Date: 2020-10-10 04:20 am (UTC)Warning: blood and yuck violence
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Part 11D
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(Yusuf)
Cairo, 12th century
The look on Nicolo’s face...
Yusuf felt the dagger ease off his throat. The grip on his shoulders tightened, keeping him hunched awkwardly.
They were surrounded, some of the nine that crewed the ship were crowded around his Nicolo with hungry eyes. Four were dead outside. He could not fight the other three as they took his scimitar and dragged him into the cramp cabin.
I am sorry, Nicolo’s eyes pled when he at last looked up. Yusuf now realized, those eyes had pled for so long. And Yusuf didn’t realize, never knew, worried about Nicolo wasting away, but never knew why. Except Nicolo told him. Yusuf had said Nicolo spoke in everything he did. Nicolo told him in his actions. And Yusuf did not hear him.
"I understand, but the battle I fought alone is lost."
Yusuf’s eyes widened.
Nicolo, Nicolo, no, no, wait...
Nicolo’s gaze reached Yusuf and stayed on him, unflinching as Dirar moved a hand over him and Badlh hunched lower, his trousers dropping to the floor, hands grabbing, touching, filthy hands gripping Nicolo’s face. Nicolo’s jaw flexed, his hands dropping to his sides...
...and snatched Badlh’s dagger on the floor.
“Down!” Nicolo shouted in lingua and threw the dagger.
The dagger against Yusuf’s throat sliced as Yusuf threw himself to the floor. He felt an ice cold line down to his shoulder, hot blood oozing. He caught the dagger as it fell, dropped when Nicolo’s dagger found its target: Yusuf’s capturer’s throat, sending the man crashing into the one who had a knee on Yusuf’s back.
Yusuf swung the dagger he gained: up and right at his remaining captor. He heard a gurgle. He did not stop to see him die.
Nicolo writhed in the floor, bucking against Badlh’s hands around his throat. He could not kick free; his torn trousers tangled around his ankles.
Dirar was struggling to get up, his face a mix of blood and broken teeth, his eyes bloodshot. His jaw was broken, unhinged by Nicolo’s swift kick. He screamed garbled and furious as he lurched to his feet. The two men in the back surged forward.
Yusuf felt his insides boiled when he realized Dirar used Nicolo’s longsword to push himself to his feet.
But Nicolo was fighting and fading.
With a shout, Yusuf spun around, slammed the dagger into Badlh’s back, his other hand shooting down to clasp around Nicolo’s reaching hand.
“Can you fight?” Yusuf asked in Greek. He stepped in front of Nicolo, felt him trembling against his back as he tugged up the shreds of his trousers and retied its lace.
“If you still want to with me,” Nicolo panted in lingua, his Greek lost in his daze.
“Always,” Yusuf said before he charged towards Dirar with a snarl.
Dirar was his.
Behind him, Nicolo took the weapon caught in Badlh’s body. Yusuf threw himself bodily at the two men, his arms flung out to catch them both. He felt a blade skim across his ribs.
Nicolo shouted, something sang through the air and Yusuf caught his scimitar and lashed down in a deadly arc. He was upon the second man before the first fell.
The other swung desperately, his eyes wide with fear, his sword sloppy.
Yusuf’s scimitar lashed out, knocking the sword to the floor and he spun towards Dirar.
“That sword,” Yusuf seethed, “Is not yours.” He pointed his scimitar at Dirar. “Neither is he.”
Dirar spat, blood splattering as he charged, Nicolo’s sword swinging wildly towards Yusuf.
What Dirar lacked in skill, he made up with rage. His swings bore all his fury, crashing into Yusuf’s scimitar. Each blow shook through Yusuf’s arm. He was forced to hold his blade with two hands.
Dirar was shouting, screaming about his wife and child, how he sent them away from Damascus, how he thought they were safe while he defended the city. After, he dragged his wounded body to find his family. The marching Franks had found them first.
Yusuf felt pity but it did not last when he realized it was pity that stayed Nicolo’s hand before. It was pity that fed into a guilt that never went away and became Nicolo’s personal plague that ate him from the inside.
“Traitor!” Dirar screamed. His anger turned towards Yusuf.
Yusuf’s shoulders burned as he blocked each blow. Nicolo’s sword kept Dirar out of striking distance. Yusuf’s scimitar could not possible reach.
Then, Yusuf’s foot slipped on the blood that streaked the floor.
Dirar’s face contorted as he raised the sword high, shrieking he will knock Yusuf’s head off his shoulders.
With a hoarse cry, Nicolo was suddenly in front of Yusuf clutching the tip of his own sword with both hands.
Yusuf lunged forward, past Nicolo, his scimitar whipping out.
Dirar howled, his hands flying to clutch his torso, screaming as Yusuf sliced apart what had hurt Nicolo.
Nicolo’s sword clattered to the floor.
“Your hands,” Yusuf reached for Nicolo’s hands pressed to Nicolo’s chest. “Let me se—“
Nicolo flinched.
Yusuf froze. He recovered quickly, his scimitar pointed to Dirar snarling and cursing on the ground. His cock laid by Dirar’s feet. The blood was still flowing.
“You should have let me die,” Dirar screamed around his broken jaw and the bubbling of his broken nose. He doubled over, his hands cupped over the ruin of his sex.
“You may still do,” Yusuf said coldly. “A quick death is too good for you. May your death be a slow and painful one.”
Yusuf turned his shoulder at Dirar. He studied Nicolo next to him.
“If anyone should mute the final blow,” Yusuf said quietly. He held out his scimitar. “It is you.”
Nicolo pulled his eyes away from Dirar. His eyes were nearly colorless with despair. He looked numbly at Dirar, at Yusuf and back at Dirar again.
Nicolo shook his head. His jaw clenched, his eyes sorrowful. He sharply turned away from Dirar and stumbled towards the door.
Yusuf gave Dirar one last look.
“I hope no one finds you in time,” Yusuf said. “I hope your wife and child will not be waiting for you, ashamed for the man you have become.”
Yusuf turned on his heels, Dirar screaming incoherently after him. Yusuf jammed a piece of wood into the door. If Dirar found a way to crawl to the door, he will find it barred from the outside. Let him lay down on a river of blood and a field of bodies.
When Yusuf turned around, he blinked. The four he killed were nowhere in sight.
“I tossed them into the Nile,” Nicolo said, more towards Yusuf’s boots.
Yusuf grunted. He wiped his scimitar on a rag by the railing. “It will give us time before they are discovered.”
Nicolo’s shoulders dropped. “We have to leave.”
“Yes,” Yusuf said. “Will you look at me, please? Nicolo—“
“We better go,” Nicolo interrupted. He veered around Yusuf and went down the plank, his longsword clutched in his hands, a long cloak he found tied around his middle. There were faint trails of blood that went down the sides of his legs and disappearing into the sagging edges of his boots.
A lump in his throat, Yusuf followed.
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11E and 12 (hopefully) tomorrow!
Re: Yusuf/Nicolo Forced Prostitution Fill : Needs of the Other 11D/14
Date: 2020-10-10 08:25 am (UTC)Re: Yusuf/Nicolo Forced Prostitution Fill : Needs of the Other 11D/14
Date: 2020-10-10 09:07 am (UTC)Re: Yusuf/Nicolo Forced Prostitution Fill : Needs of the Other 11D/14
Date: 2020-10-10 09:20 am (UTC)Re: Yusuf/Nicolo Forced Prostitution Fill : Needs of the Other 11D/14
Date: 2020-10-10 11:52 am (UTC)And now they can Finally talk!
Re: Yusuf/Nicolo Forced Prostitution Fill : Needs of the Other 11D/14
Date: 2020-10-10 02:57 pm (UTC)TY FOR THE FILL ♡♡♡