Prompt Post #18

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FILL: 5/6 Nicolo is forced into sex work (Nicolo/others non con) Yusuf/Nicolo

[(Anonymous)]

They encounter little real opposition; many flee without engaging them. The occupants of the whore house are out in the street, staring at the flames and smoke in fear and confusion. Others have been drawn to it too from the neighbouring streets. None seem inclined to help put out the inferno.

The crowd parts easily for Nicolo and Yusuf. People murmur and point, but no one challenges them.

A figure darts forward.

“Yusuf!”

Safya grabs his arm in her excitement, heedless of the sword he holds in his hand. “You did it!” she exclaims.

Aware Akram might still have friends in this crowd, Yusuf hushes her and keeps his own voice low.

“Where is Akram? Have you seen him?”

“Yes, he’s inside, but I think he is leaving. He is moving his gold. I haven’t seen Mundir.”

“He’s dead,” says Nicolo, flatly.

Her eyes widen; then she stands a little taller.

“Good,” she whispers. “Are you going to kill Akram too?”

Both men nod.

“Stay here,” says Yusuf. “Don’t go back inside. No matter what happens.”

They leave her in the street with another young woman, who nervously joins her as they walk away.

Yusuf is delighted to discover the doorman hasn’t yet fled. In fact, he appears to be helping Akram move his gold.

The man drops the bag he is struggling with when he sees Yusuf and Nicolo, he waves his sword at them clumsily.

“Get out!”

Yusuf laughs.

“Oh, I don’t think we’ll be leaving just yet. We have unfinished business here, don’t we, Nicolo?”

Nicolo smiles humourlessly.

“Now,” Yusuf continues. “Why don’t you tell me again how I can use this man’s mouth?”

He waves a hand at Nicolo, who expression promises a painful death.

The doorman stares uncomprehendingly at them both.

Yusuf decides to help with his memory.

“I can fuck his throat since he won’t bite, as he knows better,” Yusuf spits out the last word.

Understanding floods the man’s florid features. He staggers back, his grip on his sword now shaky.

“I… I was just doing my job.”

“I don’t care,” says Yusuf.

He steps forward. The man shrieks and flails at him with his blade, Yusuf sidesteps it easily and with one sweep of his scimitar opens the doorman up from shoulder to groin. He remains standing for a moment and then slumps forward into a pool of his own entrails.

Yusuf eyes the body with grim satisfaction before turning to address Nicolo.

“I must ask you. Akram? Do you wish to be the one to kill him?”

Nicolo moves his feet away from the spreading pool of blood.

“Do you want to?”

“I confess, I would very much like to be the one to end his miserable existence. But I understand if you would prefer to strike the killing blow.”

“Perhaps we can kill him together?” Nicolo suggests.

Yusuf thinks about it.

“That doesn’t seem very fair.”

Nicolo’s left eyebrow creeps up.

Yusuf scratches the back of his neck sheepishly.

“You’re right. The man does not deserve an honourable death.”

They make their way through the ground floor of the building. There is an open trapdoor in a room at the back. Looking down the steps they can see lamplight flickering below.

Yusuf silently advocates that he will go first. Slowly, cautiously, with his scimitar raised, he descends the steps. Nicolo follows.

Akram is on his knees shovelling handfuls of coins from heavy coffers into smaller hessian bags. He looks up when he senses their approach and scrambles to his feet. He has no sword, only a dagger.

“Who-?”

His eyes narrow.

“You have come to rob me?” he growls.

It’s clearly false bravado. His gaze keeps darting to the steps. Although, if he’s waiting to be rescued, he’s going to be sorely disappointed, Yusuf thinks.

Nicolo moves to flank Yusuf.

Recognition flares in the man’s eyes.

“You! You dare to rob me! A fucking whore,” Akram snarls.

“Hold your tongue,” Yusuf snaps. “You don’t speak to him.”

“What?” The man laughs mockingly. “Oh, I’m sorry. Is he yours?”

“He is no one’s. He is the kindest, bravest, most compassionate man I have ever known, and you are not worthy to even look at him. I will carve out your tongue if you speak to him again.”

Yusuf’s impassioned speech does nothing to lessen the man’s scorn, and something more calculating is creeping into his expression.

“Well, if it’s gold you want, take this.” He kicks the bag by his feet. “I have plenty.”

“We do not want your gold,” says Nicolo, coldly.

“Your life, on the other hand, we will gladly take,” says Yusuf.

The man sputters at them, seemingly lost for words. However, he proves himself to be a snake to the last as he draws a throwing knife from his clothing and hurls it at Nicolo, who does his best to avoid it.

There is little room for manoeuvring however, so while the blade misses his throat it embeds itself near his collar bone. Nicolo’s lip curls up in annoyance as he yanks it out and hurls it to the floor.

Akram stares in horror at the rapidly closing wound.

“Demons!”

Yusuf and Nicolo exchange a brief glance and then move forward as one. Yusuf opens up Akram’s throat, while Nicolo carves a deep slash across his quivering belly.

Blood sprays in an arc across the ceiling, crimson droplets falling onto some of the scattered coins. Akram is dead before he hits the ground.

Yusuf eyes his corpse with disgust and wipes a smear of the man’s blood from his arm.

Nicolo peers into one of the coffers.

“That is a lot of gold,” he comments.

“What do you want to do with it?”

“Akram did not earn this gold. The women did. It should be theirs.”

Yusuf nods.

They find a key that Akram used to secure the trapdoor and, after ensuring the house is free of any more of his men, hand it over to Safya.

When they tell her Akram is dead and explain what the key is for, her eyes fill with tears. The young woman with her almost collapses. Sayfa hugs her tightly as she turns to the two men.

“We are free. Thank you, from the bottom of my heart, I thank you.”

“You freed yourself,” says Yusuf. “Your help was invaluable to me.”

“And to me,” adds Nicolo.

Sayfa beams and squeezes her companion, who is smiling too now that some of the shock is starting to wear off.

“We will stay until you have safely retrieved the money,” Yusuf says.

“And to make sure none of Akram’s men are still around,” Nicolo says.

After washing away as much of the blood and grime as they are able, Sayfa insists on giving them a bed for the night. Exhausted from the evening’s events, they agree to spend the night in the whore house, but Yusuf balks at the thought of using Nicolo’s former room.

“Do you have another we can use?” Nicolo asks, gently.

She finds them another, it isn’t much larger, but the bed is bigger.

“Perhaps this will suit you better,” she says with a teasing smile.

Alone, the two men stand awkwardly beside the bed. They try to speak at the same time.

“Look, I can-“

“I will-“

“What?”

Nicolo clears his throat.

“I will sleep on the floor.”

Yusuf stares at him.

“Well, of course, yes, if you don’t want to… we can… But I will be the one to sleep on the floor.”

“If I don’t want to?” Nicolo repeats slowly.

Yusuf looks away and rubs the back of his neck.

“Share the bed. I understand if you do not wish to share the bed.”

“Why would I not wish to share a bed with you?” Nicolo asks, waving his hands in bewilderment.

Confused, Yusuf looks back at him.

“I don’t know?”

Nicolo mutters something and tumbles them both down onto the bed.

“Is this all right?”

Yusuf has his back to the wall and his front to Nicolo, who is pressed against him from shoulder to hip. They are both naked from the waist up, Nicolo’s nipple adornments brush against his chest.

“This is perfect,” says Yusuf, hoarsely.

Nicolo smiles and extinguishes the candle. His borrowed sword is propped against the wall beside the bed.

“I kept your sword safe,” Yusuf whispers. “Your cloak too, and your horse.”

“Thank you.”

“Your horse missed you, I think.”

“Hmm.”

“I missed you too.”

Nicolo breathes out softly.

“I know you did, Yusuf.”

Yusuf thinks he might start crying again.

“I don’t feel like I deserve your forgiveness.”

“Nor I yours,” Nicolo says.

He sounds sad and tired, and Yusuf cannot bear it.

“Let us start anew, from today.”

He can just make out Nicolo’s features in the darkness, deep set eyes wide and hopeful.

“Si, I would like that.”

Yusuf decides this is the sort of pact you should seal with a kiss. Thankfully, Nicolo seems to agree.

Yusuf runs his tongue along the seam of Nicolo’s lips, nudging them apart so he can deepen it.

Nicolo whimpers softly.

Worried, Yusuf draws back.

“Nicolo?”

“Don’t stop. Please, don’t stop.”

Yusuf isn’t about to refuse him, but there is something he must know first.

“My love, I have to ask, Mundir, did he-“

“No. When he touched me, I took your dagger and pushed under his ribs and into his heart,” says Nicolo.

“Oh. Well. Good.”

“Yes. Now can we never mention him again, please.”

Yusuf doesn’t have any problem with that, he much prefers to keep kissing Nicolo.

The room is stuffy and stale, the bed is uncomfortable, and Yusuf doesn’t want to think too hard about what might have taken place on it in the past. They both still carry the odour of smoke and sweat, Nicolo also has the cloying scent of the perfumed oils they rubbed into his skin. Despite this, Yusuf is harder than he has ever been in his life, and this just from a few relatively innocent kisses.

There is a part of him that wants to roll Nicolo over onto his back and rut against him until they both come. He is also very conscious that, regardless of what Mundir did or did not do, Nicolo has not had an easy time of it, and his love is probably not experienced in these matters.

“Nicolo,” he murmurs, in between kisses.

“Hmm?”

“You said that you that you are… untouched?”

This time it is Nicolo who draws back.

“Forgive me,” Yusuf continues, “I do not ask why, only that you must know I am grateful to have you in my life in whatever way pleases you. So, if this is not something you want-”

Nicolo cuts him off with a kiss and punctuates his next words with a series of them.

“This. Is. Very. Much. Something. I. Want.”

Yusuf kisses Nicolo back so enthusiastically he nearly tumbles him off the bed, which makes Nicolo snort with laughter, something Yusuf wants to hear again.

However, it does leave him curious as to the why if this is something Nicolo enjoys?

Nicolo picks up on his confusion.

“When I followed the cross, they asked me to be chaste. I no longer follow the cross, so-”

Yusuf feels him shrug. It makes no sense to him, but he certainly isn’t going to question his good fortune.

They kiss for a while longer, and then Nicolo yawns.

He blurts out an apology in his own tongue, and then again in Yusuf’s, stumbling a little over the words.

Yusuf hugs him tighter and nuzzles his cheek.

“Ssh, it’s fine. We’re both tired. Let us sleep. This is something we can continue another day.”

“Tomorrow?”

“Tomorrow,” Yusuf agrees, happily.

*******

They wake to find they have tried to get closer to one another during the night, and they are obliged to awkwardly disentangle their limbs before they can rise from the bed. Yusuf goes looking for Safya, who assures him that no one is looking for them in connection with Akram or Mundir’s deaths. Their bodies have been dumped out in the dessert, and she tells him that there is no one in the town who will miss either man.

Yusuf is still concerned what will become of Safya and the other women when he and Nicolo leave.

Safya explains that they don’t intend to stay in the town. They are going to take the gold and start new lives for themselves far from here.

“We will take care of one another,” she tells him. “In a new place we can be sisters, widows, cousins, whatever we choose. Perhaps we will take husbands. But only if we wish it.”

Yusuf smiles warmly at her.

She bites her lip uncertainly.

“Are you sure you won’t take a share of the money. Some of it is Nicolo’s by right.”

Yusuf controls a wince.

“No. Thank you, but no.”

She finds some clothing for them both, a little worn and threadbare, but still preferable to what they currently have.

Nicolo had refused to leave the room in daylight in his flimsy attire, and he accepts the bundle Yusuf holds out to him with visible relief.

They dress back-to-back. There isn’t a lot of space and when bare flesh brushes bare flesh they both freeze for a moment before continuing.

When they finally turn around Nicolo still has the hoops in his ears; Yusuf cannot help but wonder if he has left his other piercings in too. He decides against asking, everything between them feels new and fragile, and he doesn’t want to risk damaging it with an ill-judged question.

Instead, he tells Nicolo about Safya, and Nicolo smiles.

“I told you we could do good here.”

It has been so long since Yusuf felt anything other than a terrible gnawing grief, it feels strange for it to be supplanted by something else; but he recognises this as hope. Nevertheless, he is eager to put distance between themselves and this town, so they bid farewell to a teary eyed Safya and go to find their horses.

Fortunately, their mounts are still standing beside the water trough where he had tethered them.

Nicolo’s horse snickers loudly as he approaches; he rubs its velvety nose and huffs when it butts him playfully with its head.

Something settles in Yusuf’s chest as he watches Nicolo strap on his sword.

*******