theoldguardkinkmeme

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

Remember:

Fills can but don't need to be anonymous.

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

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

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

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

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

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

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

From:

dr_libra_phd

16? 18? 145? (No, jk about that one, LOL)

More of Nicolo

———————————————-
Part 15B
———————————————-

(Nicolo)

Somewhere outside of Alexandria, 12th century

It felt like it would not end.

Once the first tear trailed down, the rest followed, faster and faster until Nicolo found himself gasping trying to stop and failing miserably.

Nicolo heard himself, talking in broken Arabic as if trying to talk to Yusuf for the first time, when lingua franca flowed easier. He stuttered around Dirar’s name, about how he knew Nicolo had not laid with anyone, how Dirar’s gaze gleamed when he first offered triple to have him. And then the offer was either himself or else Yusuf.

It had been no question who it had to be. Nicolo gasped as he talked about standing on Dirar’s ship and seeing his sword in Dirar’s hands, fondling it like he would the darkly engorged object between his legs.

Nicolo remembered curling into Yusuf. Yusuf, who half-supported him back to the house. Yusuf, who settled a shaking Nicolo against him on the bed, threw the blanket over their nude bodies. Yusuf, who simply listened as Nicolo described how Dirar’s thumb stabbed itself into his taint, as if testing if the meat was rancid, how Dirar tugged him across the floor, and relished in describing how Nicolo’s bloodied hole will be loose enough for the rest of his men.

The only time Yusuf made a sound, a distressed rumble that seemed to shake his entire body, was when Nicolo hiccuped that he was sure Yusuf would reject him after, but at least he was safe from the intent of men such as Dirar.

The more Nicolo talked, the more he could not stop. The weight in his chest did not lighten. It bear down hotter and heavier as he spoke, as he found himself telling Yusuf he hoped Dirar’s rage would overcome him, killing Nicolo during the deed and would toss him overboard. His eyes blurred as he confessed he hoped death would spare him from the others.

Inside the cocoon the blanket created, Nicolo’s words sounded quieter, coming from someone else. Nicolo panted against Yusuf, his ear still over Yusuf’s heart, his own racing too hard.

“It hurt,” Nicolo mourned, confused, his neck stiff, his limbs feeling sharp and brittle and not his. His fingers dug over his own chest. His heart continued to pound.

“It did not happen. Why does it hurt?” Nicolo nearly wailed into Yusuf’s chest. “It did not happen...”

Yusuf said nothing. He dropped his chin on top of Nicolo’s head. He cradled Nicolo close and said nothing.

And Nicolo could not stop crying. He could not stop talking.

”I knew you would come back.”

Nicolo gripped his sword’s hilt tighter.

The merchant Dirar scoffed.

“I told you work on the docks is as scarce as rain. You Franks thought praying to your god would grant you rain before your attacks? Pity not more of you withered into dust from thirst.”

“I am here to present you a different offer in exchange,” Nicolo said stiffly. He changed his grip on the sword. “Caravans are vulnerable to bandits. Thieves.”

“And Christian invaders,” Dirar drawled.

Nicolo flinched.

“My offer remains the same. I will teach you how to earn coin with that mouth of yours and work on the docks will be available to you again. But if any seeks distraction in your mouth, you will come at my request.”

Nicolo flushed angrily. “You are not the only mer—“

“The men in the docks fled Damascus with me,” Dirar hissed. “I may not be the only merchant, but here in Cairo, it is the only dock!”

Nicolo clenched his jaw.

“You know how to please one’s cock with your mouth?” Dirar was blunt, no longer as charming and clever smiling as before, when he crooned in sympathy when Nicolo did not have enough coin to pay.

Nicolo glanced away.

“You look at me and I will teach you kindly,” Dirar said low. “Ignore me and you will not leave this ship. I will take you out to sea and let coarser men on filthy ships teach you for days until you can no longer sit. Then, I will dump you at the market stripped, sullied and still without coin. Let us see how your dear friend Yusuf will regard you then.”

Nicolo’s eyes dragged back to Dirar.

Dirar smiled, a slit across his dark face, his eyes narrowed to slivers.

“Good,.” Dirar murmured. He rose from his chair and crossed the room. He pulled Nicolo’s hand away from his sword. He dropped a hand on Nicolo’s shoulder.

“Now kneel, Frank, and gladly learn from my cock.”

Shaking, Nicolo sank to his knees with a mere nudge of Dirar’s hand.

He felt nailed to the bed. The bed smelled strange. The blanket over him felt heavy.

A hand, Yusuf’s hand, swept over his hair again and again, pushing back clammy locks from his brow.

Nicolo’s eyes felt gritty like sand was caked under his eyes. He opened them and found his head on Yusuf’s thigh.

“Can you sit up?” Yusuf rasped as if he has been talking, not Nicolo.

Nicolo pushed off with an elbow. He looked down at himself. He was dressed. He blinked at Yusuf. He was dressed as well. Behind Yusuf...

“It is night?” Nicolo croaked. He paused, a hand reaching up. His throat ached.

Yusuf nodded, both to Nicolo’s vocal question and the silent one.

“You were throwing up after...” Yusuf sat closer, their hips touching. “You would not stop.”

Yusuf exhaled slowly. He wrapped a arm around Nicolo’s shoulders, murmuring wordlessly as Nicolo sagged against him.

“Then, you simply...stopped.” Nicolo caught Yusuf swallowing hard out of the corner of his eye. “You stopped vomiting, stopped talking, stopped...” He hesitated.

“Crying,” Nicolo offered. He blinked tiredly. The lunch he made before Yusuf coaxed him to bathe together was still on the table. He had boiled eggs, cut thick wedges of the first melon that sprang round and firm above ground. He had mashed lentils into a paste. He wanted Yusuf to try it. It seemed so long ago.

“You slept,” Yusuf explained as he pressed a warm tea cup into Nicolo’s hand. “I could not rouse you to eat or even drink. Thought it best to let you sleep.”

It explained why Nicolo’s limbs felt lethargic. Moving took some effort and thinking.

“Drink,” Yusuf prodded. “Mint tea. I made it weaker in case you can not stomach anything.”

“In truth,” Nicolo said slowly as he sipped the tea. He found himself to be thirsty, incredibly so and before he knew it, Yusuf was pulling the emptied one away and giving him a new one.

“In truth?” Yusuf smiled, strained. Whatever Nicolo had babbled to him settled behind his eyes.

“I am...hungry?” Nicolo peered into the cup and studied the tiny reflection of himself. It was a different stranger staring back up at him. “I feel hungry. It is strange.”

Yusuf breathed out. “All right. Stay where you are.”

Nicolo sat back on the wall, watching Yusuf move the table closer to the pallet. To his surprise, Yusuf did not pull a chair to sit, but sat down shoulder to shoulder with Nicolo. Yusuf pulled the bowls to the pallet between them.

Nicolo tugged the blanket over his shoulders and watched Yusuf cut up the boiled eggs and sprinkle the pieces over the lentils.

Yusuf scraped a modest amount onto a spoon and passed it to Nicolo.

Nicolo ate slowly, watched Yusuf chewed his own spoonful, one of his cheeks puffed out as he ate.

After another taste, Yusuf lowered his spoon.

“I had wondered,” Yusuf said quietly as he set the bowl aside. “I knew you were forced to be used, but I avoided thinking about it and often my mind...” He shook his head.

“But I had mostly wondered how Dirar made you go to his ship and offer yourself...” Yusuf’s shoulder leaned into Nicolo. It felt like they were supporting each other sitting up.

“It was not for coin,” Nicolo murmured, but was not surprised when Yusuf shook his head.

“No, I knew that, but I feared to know what it could be. And my imagination went rampant, fearing what unspeakable things were done but I never thought...”

Yusuf exhaled. He massaged his brow with a hand. “I had not realized he used me as your price.”

Nicolo shrank into the blanket. He rested his forehead on Yusuf’s shoulder.

“I do not regret it,” Nicolo said quietly. “And if it indeed happened...” Yusuf slipped an arm around Nicolo’s shoulders.

“If it had happened, I would not have rejected you.” Yusuf rested his cheek on top of Nicolo’s head. “All these years, surely you would not doubt this?”

Nicolo blinked rapidly. His eyes burned, but stayed dry.

“The things they said to me, the words before they paid me. I believed them. All of them. Even now, I can not help think I...I would have rejected me,” Nicolo rasped.

“It felt only right that everyone else should.”

Nicolo ran a trembling finger around the edge of the bowl. Despite his previous claim, he no longer felt hungry.

“Rejecting you would be like rejecting my own heart.” Yusuf captured Nicolo’s hand around the bowl and settled it on his chest.

“Feel how it beats? How it beats your name?” Yusuf sighed, his chest lifting as he took a deep breath.

“Do you remember how I said everything you do is poetry? You are my song, Nicolo, the words in my heart. What you were willing to do, to suffer, for me...”

Yusuf tugged Nicolo’s hand to his mouth. He kissed the center, the palm and when he pulled it away, Nicolo felt dampness trickling down his palm.

“No debt, no guilt,” Nicolo murmured. “Remember? You were right: I did not do it freely, I offered myself to Dirar under threat, but I did it willing. All of it. It hurts, but if I must, I will do it all again if it keeps you safe.”

Yusuf sighed. He covered Nicolo’s hand with both of his and pressed their clasped hands to his chest.

They listened to Yusuf’s heart.

“I would do the same,” Yusuf said after a moment, “It sounds like an empty vow in front of everything you have done, but it is true. I would do the same if it means you are safe.”

Nicolo rested heavily on Yusuf and watched the wall and the jars of food.

“You know I took their...” Nicolo breathed out slowly.

“You do not need to say it.” Yusuf hugged their hands harder over his heart.

“I do need to...” Nicolo’s throat worked.

“I took their cocks in my mouth,” Nicolo said out loud. Against him, Yusuf flinched. It was the second time Nicolo said it out loud, but it hurt like the first.

“I let them come down my throat. And I let them slip coin into my pocket.” Nicolo sank against Yusuf. “And it hurt when they used my mouth. I...I felt like nothing. In time, it felt like I d-deserved it.”

With a broken moan, Nicolo hunched forward, wrapping his other arm around his middle.

“Sometimes, I still believe it,” Nicolo whimpered. “I tried not to, but sometimes I hear them screaming the murderous Frank deserved it.”

Yusuf groaned. He pulled Nicolo into the hollow his body made curled over Nicolo. He kissed Nicolo’s eyes, his nose, the bob of his throat, his ears.

“Hobi,” Yusuf chanted. His hands cupped Nicolo’s ass to pull him to settle between his legs. He ran hands on Nicolo’s body.

“This world does not deserve you,” Yusuf said fiercely. “You are more than who they made you believe. “

Nicolo shuddered, the blanket falling off his shoulders, but he did not feel cold. He felt oddly lighter, dizzy with the same racing sensation out by the stream.

“Everything,” Nicolo choked. “Everything. You and I. Yusuf...”

“You and I,” Yusuf agreed as he hugged Nicolo to him, his legs closing around Nicolo. But Nicolo did not feel trapped.

He felt whole.
————————

Tomorrow!

From: (Anonymous)

I’m so glad they’re talking about this. I think they need to know exactly what’s in the other’s heart and mind to avoid any misunderstanding. I look forward to the next part!