topino | crusades amnesia psl

He is burning with two fires.

One is a fury that is annoyed that Yusuf is challenging him like this. How dare he assume he knows Nicolo's emotions? How dare he decide for him? How could he think that Nicolo is lying?

The other fire is a colder one, one that says that if he betrays the truth, then he will be vulnerable and that is a fury in itself. And yet, the first of the furies wins out.

"I know what my gut says," he spits back at him, aggressively splashing water all over his face, scrubbing it over the back of his head to get the blood out. He is glaring daggers at Yusuf, incongruous with what he's admitting. "I want, so badly, to have you in that way. I know you will keep me safe, and it burns me alive to know how much I yearn for you," he accuses.

Cursing under his breath, he yanks at the cloth to dry his head, happy to lose sight of Yusuf for now, lest he start attacking him.

Nicolo's words feel just like Yusuf toppled backwards and is falling head-first into the nearby well. He would know, it's happened to him before. To hear Nicolo return his feelings so angrily, so desperately, a perfect echo of the fire that consumes Yusuf too, is overwhelming. He cannot believe that the contrary forces that push him to want and despise Nicolo in equal measures are also present in his usually cool-tempered companion.

He doesn't know what to say, doesn't know how to react when faced with such a realization, and silences stretches tersely between them. Then Nicolo puts a towel on his head, hiding his face, and starts to scrub at his wet hair angrily to dry it. For some reason, his roughness with his freshly-healed scalp bothers Yusuf and before he can think better of it he has reached out, and put his own hand on Nicolo's head to still him.

It's easier to touch Nicolo with his face hidden, Yusuf finds, and without those unsettling pale eyes on him. Provided Nicolo doesn't bat him away he'll put his other hand there, pushing Nicolo's out of the way so he can rub at his wet hair gently, his fingers careful. "Nicolo," he says, very quietly, stunned.

Nicolo flinches at the touch when it comes, not having seen it or expected it, but when he registers that it can only be Yusuf, he softens just enough to allow himself to sink towards him, breathing out slowly as he allows himself to be touched.

He still averts his eyes, keeping them on the ground. "You see? You should not have doubted what my instincts said about you, when they knew," he says emphatically. Swallowing roughly, he dredges up his courage to look up at him, pushing the cloth aside.

"Go on," he says with a sigh, knowing what is coming next given how Yusuf snapped his neck and killed him before. "Do it. Kill me, then."

Yusuf hesitates when he feels Nicolo flinch, but then Nicolo leans into his touch, relaxing a little in Yusuf's hands. "I see," he returns, slipping his fingers through Nicolo's wet hair since it seems to be allowed, combing through the soft strands. "But how was I to know, when you said nothing of this to me until you lost all of your memories?"

He meets Nicolo's eyes and his throat tightens at what he sees there, feeling like Nicolo's piercing eyes can see right through him. What Nicolo says next though, his voice resigned to suffer, is like a slap to the face. "You think I would kill you now?" Yusuf inquires, disbelieving and angry. "When you've bared your heart to me so fully?"

His hands stroke from Nicolo's hair to his neck, lingering there a second before they move to his cheeks, cupping his face. "Do you think that I don't burn with the same fire? That it doesn't sear through me too when you look at me like this?" Yusuf's words are heated, full of passion and yes, some anger at how much they misunderstand each other.

Nicolo inhales deeply, as if he can put off whatever he might hear or say in the process. Eventually, though, he has to start breathing normally, and when Yusuf stares at him like this, in such a powerful and deeply honest and overly sincere way, it almost breaks him.

And then, he touches him so softly.

Now, he thinks, he will break. Not in the sense that he will collapse and storm away. No, this is a break that's been building up since he realized how kind and caring and attractive Yusuf is, and how they are likely bound together by their gift. The touch to his hair, his cheek, the look in Yusuf's eyes, it's all leading him down a path that he thinks he knows the destination of.

"You show it in a strange way," Nicolo snipes with a haughty snort, but before they can argue more, he thinks he will take control of this. He tangles his fingers through Yusuf's hair to hold on before he adds, "Let me show you how you should show it," is stubborn and smug, and all the warning Yusuf gets before Nicolo unleashes all his fury, anger, and desire into a single kiss.

Nicolo's words are so smug and unfair Yusuf's anger blazes right back up to bright flames, but before he can retort something scathing, Nicolo's hands are in his hair, and he has brought their mouths together roughly.

The first touch of Nicolo's lips against his own sends a shock through Yusuf's body, and that even though he knew it was coming, even though he's not feeling particularly fond of Nicolo at the moment.

His desire to kiss back wins over his desire to argue easily, and he channels all of his outrage and annoyance into it, biting at Nicolo's lips. He pulls on Nicolo's hair, probably a little too hard, and brings him closer, his eyes slipping shut as he focuses on driving them both breathless with need.

If Yusuf thinks he is going to win with this kiss, then he is wrong. Nicolo is still not sure how to cope with his emotions, so smashing his desire together with his need to win is what has him clambering to push Yusuf back and gain control of the kiss, half-snarling when his hair is tugged.

Old habits have him hook a leg round Yusuf's knee, tumbling them to the ground so he can wrestle and pin Yusuf down, even if he hasn't dared stop kissing him, because it is better than breathing. It is better than everything.

Why did he not do this sooner?

Yusuf isn't really thinking of this in terms of winning or losing, too busy experiencing many feelings at once. He groans when Nicolo snarls, struggling against him to push back, gripping his hair tighter. His other hand lands on Nicolo's hip, shocked to find bare skin there where Nicolo's tunic has rolled up. His thumb strokes over Nicolo's hipbone, feeling how soft his skin is there, and how his muscles shift when he forces them both to the ground.

They wrestle in the dust for a while, Yusuf twisting under Nicolo to free himself, but he ultimately likes kissing too much to fight back properly and risk breaking apart. In the end it's easier to let Nicolo pin him down and to retaliate by grabbing two handfuls of Nicolo's ass roughly, bringing their hips together.

Nicolo gasps when suddenly Yusuf's broad hands are on his ass. It's not something he'd expected and it bleeds some of the fury and anger from his kiss, but he doesn't give up. Instead, he takes his time letting the kiss soften, just a touch. It slows, just a little more, and he grabs at Yusuf's hair to see if it will feel just as good to tug it as he's imagined.

It does.

No, it's even better.

Kissing him is better than having water in the desert, and he's shocked that his fantasies come up short to how good it is.

Finally, he eases off Yusuf to stare down at him, mouth parted in shock. "I'm not dreaming, am I?"

As the kiss softens Yusuf opens up to it more fully, relaxing under Nicolo, the tension thrumming through his body less anger and more desire now. He strokes his hands from Nicolo's ass up to his back, slipping under his tunic to touch bare skin, hoping he can make Nicolo gasp against his lips again.

The tug to his hair gets to him first though, and he groans at the sensation of Nicolo's fingers pulling at his curls, sending shivers down his spine. He stays still as Nicolo leans up and away, his eyes remaining closed a while longer, catching his breath.

"I could pinch you, if you'd like to make sure," he offers, smirking up to Nicolo. Nicolo is flushed in the moonlight, his lips red and his eyes dark. Yusuf has never seen anything more beautiful. "Let me up," he requests, quietly. "There's a rock digging into my back." And they have a bed, inside.

Nicolo squirms at the touch to his bare skin, not having anticipated this sort of intimacy or touch, and certainly not from Yusuf, not like this. He exhales, but it's a breathless push of air, his eyes fluttering shut as he curls into Yusuf's body to prolong the kiss as much as he can.

He blinks at Yusuf, and it takes a moment to register his words. Has he forgotten how to speak? Has Yusuf robbed him of that?

"Oh, now you think the rocks are inconvenient?" He knows it's a bit snippy, even with the teasing glint in his eyes, but he can't help himself.

"I thought the rocks were inconvenient when they were in your skull, too," Yusuf returns, in the same snippy tone. Not exactly a joke but not an attack, either. Somewhere in the middle, Yusuf thinks. Just like them.

He moves to sit up, his hands slipping from Nicolo's back to his face, cupping his cheeks carefully. Nicolo looks almost eerily intense in the moonlight, with his too-pale eyes and his big nose. Somehow, Yusuf can't quite believe he just kissed him. He'll do it again, for good measure. Nicolo is warm against him, and Yusuf wants to feel more of him. "Come back inside," he whispers, his eyes dark.

The tone washes over Nicolo now. If he's honest, he doesn't even pay it any mind, because he doesn't notice it. He's immune, he thinks, because he's too busy looking at the way Yusuf stares at him, which makes him breathe out slowly, shivering for the invitation.

How is it he's supposed to say no?

He truly thinks he can't. He's swiftly on his feet, reaching tentatively out to tangle his fingers with Yusuf's, as if he's still nervous for that touch when it might become violent. Hooking his pinky around Yusuf's, he clears his throat. "Not to kill me again, I hope," he adds, unable to help himself.

Yusuf stands up when Nicolo lets him, his eyebrows arching at the gentle touch to his hand. He accepts it and returns it eagerly, hooking his pinky back against Nicolo's, holding it all the way to their tiny house.

"Not unless you're particularly annoying," Yusuf answers, a little wry. He's not foreseeing a lot of murder in the near future, not considering what they've just confessed to each other. As they step into the house, there is still quite a lot of blood on the floor, slowly drying. It will be a pain to clean up, Yusuf thinks.

"I didn't want to kill you, earlier," he admits, turning around to face Nicolo. "But I couldn't just cut through your skull, not when you didn't remember anything about us not being able to die."

Nicolo is still feeling unmoored, but he's not sure it's all to do with the recent injury. If he's honest, he feels utterly adrift, completely lost, but as though he is being pushed to a safe shore in Yusuf's waiting arms -- ones that he would very much like to get better acquainted with, if he's honest.

"And here I thought that you found me particularly annoying always," Nicolo mutters, following after Yusuf with a somewhat wary eye at all the blood. "You were very kind to me, when I lost my memory," he confesses. "Did you think of me as a stranger? Or as the man I actually am?"

"That's unfair, sometimes you're only mildly annoying," Yusuf snips back, mostly out of habit. He grabs an old cloth that will serve as a mop, and starts scrubbing at the floor with water, trying to remove enough of the blood for the innkeeper not to notice in the morning.

He looks up at the question, and takes a second to think on it. "I thought of you as yourself, without the parts that usually make you unkind," he answers, truthfully. Nicolo's memories of the Crusades, and everything that went down. "You were so gentle, I had no reason to mistreat you."

"Only mildly," Nicolo echoes with a smug grin, as if Yusuf has just said that he is the best person in the world and not that he is only mildly annoying. Given that they have recently been murdering one another, maybe that is a large stride forward.

No matter what, Nicolo is going to take it as progress, and he does move towards their room, watching as Yusuf begins to scrub the floor. He does not offer to help, mainly because he was the one who had his head sliced open. He thinks he can sit and not pitch in, this one time.

He is quiet, though, when he thinks of being unkind. "I was taught to hate, but specifically, hate your people," he admits, evenly, with some difficulty. "Meeting you, killing you, but then seeing who you truly are, it made it impossible to nurse that hatred, but it is also difficult to unlearn everything I knew. I suppose," he says, haltingly, "without my memory, it was an easy thing to do, to forget my lessons and only remember how good and kind and thoughtful and handsome you are."

The smug grin earns a flat look from Yusuf, though he doesn't actually tell Nicolo off or ask his help to scrub the floor. It's his blood, after all, and Yusuf does feel bad for spilling it, even if it was necessary.

He keeps scrubbing while Nicolo thinks, slowly getting rid of the blood, wringing his mop into a bowl of water and washing his hands again. The words make him sigh, deep but quiet, his jaw working before he looks up to meet Nicolo's gaze, searching his face. "I know," he says, not unkindly. All of this, he knows. He knows why Nicolo came to Jerusalem with righteous hatred in his heart. He understands it, to a certain extent. That doesn't make it any easier to forgive.

"That you're willing to unlearn what you have been taught does you credit," he adds, quietly. That's the nicest thing he can say on the matter, considering how much death and destruction the Crusades rained on his country.

He smiles, trying to lighten the mood as he gets up and comes to sit next to Nicolo on the bed, his eyes careful but warm. "Should I be concerned that 'handsome' only came fourth in that list?" he teases, arching his eyebrows.

Nicolo raises both brows. "That is what you are fussed about?" he asks with disbelief, because he hadn't truly considered that it would be an issue to have him be called handsome in the middle of a list.

He is unbearably handsome, of course, but Nicolo had worried that putting it first might make Yusuf think that it's only his looks that Nicolo cares about, when it's not that at all.

"I would have you teach me all the things of the world I don't know," he murmurs, breath catching in his chest. "Just to know that I am doing it right."

"Very fussed," Yusuf confirms with a little smirk, though he obviously doesn't mean it at all. He bumps his shoulder against Nicolo's companionably, watching him struggle to put his thoughts into order. Nicolo's words, when they come, send a shiver down Yusuf's spine, heat pooling in his chest.

He takes Nicolo's hand in both of his, kissing his fingers carefully, still amazed that it is allowed. "Anything I know, you will know too," he vows earnestly, his eyes intent. "I don't know that I can teach you everything in this world correctly, but we can learn together," he adds, because he suspects Nicolo means this more broadly than just where they are now, in bed.

It feels almost strange to have all the curtains pulled back like this. He and Yusuf had fought so viciously, so constantly, and now he's staring at him in a whole new light. He is a magnificent person, a wonderful handsome one, and he'd known that, of course.

He just never thought Yusuf would allow him this.

His breath shakes as he inhales sharply with the kisses, his eyes fixed on Yusuf. "We can discuss moral turpitude later," he vows, unblinking as he stares, "All I want to do right now is kiss you."

"If you'd like," Yusuf comments when Nicolo offers to discuss moral turpitude later. He reaches out, cupping Nicolo's face carefully, watching the contrast between their skin colors, the way his thumb brushes gently against the sensitive skin under Nicolo's eye. He can touch Nicolo now, like this and in any way he wants. It's a little overwhelming, after so long spent trying not to even look at the man too much.

"Then kiss me," Yusuf says, his voice low. He shouldn't want this so much, he thinks, not from Nicolo, not when their relationship has been so complicated and unclear. But he does, and he's tired of pretending not to. There is no one left to lie to about this, not even himself.

Nicolo tips his head into the touch, eyes drifting shut at the gentleness of it. He's not used to this at all and he's sure that Yusuf isn't, either. He suspects it will take decades if not centuries to experience Yusuf's touch and not anticipate that it will come to a blow, instead.

The challenge is welcome, because it gives him something to focus on. "Since you asked so nicely," he says, but he isn't very nice as he pins Yusuf's shoulders to the bed, straddling him tightly so that Yusuf is bound by his knees and unable to move as he cups his neck and bends down to kiss him, frantic and messy and without skill.

It is strange, to be gentle with Nicolo, after they've spent so long hurting each other. Yusuf finds that he likes it.

"I did ask very nicely," Yusuf has the time to tease, before Nicky's mouth crashes against his. He yelps into the kiss, fighting instinctively for a second before he allows Nicky to push him onto his back and clamber on top of him to pin him down. There is no need, really: Yusuf is exactly where he wants to be.

He hums, slipping his fingers into Nicky's hair to tug at him, not back but to the side so they can get a better angle. This way their teeth don't clash together as much and Nicky's big nose isn't smushed against Joe's cheekbone. Yusuf does nothing to try and correct the passion in the kiss however, kissing back just as intently, licking into Nicky's mouth and grabbing him by the shoulder to bring their bodies together.

It is still foreign to Nicolo, but Yusuf guides him with a gentle teacher's touch that has him soaking up the affection and the gentleness. It makes him realize that he wants this more than he wants absolutely anything, and that is the fire that has been burning in him.

He forces a gentler touch in his palm as he uses it to cup Yusuf's face, noting the breadth of it covers nearly all of it, allowing him to brush his thumb over his neck as he softens the kiss and the vice grip of his hips.

He sinks (he melts) and he tangles his fingers in Yusuf's hair to kiss him not harder, but somehow deeper.

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