It was difficult for Nicolo to admit, but he thought that he was the furthest thing from a devout and holy man now than ever. Genoa and his parishioners were a distant memory and even his vows to God seemed...well, forgotten. He had gone to the Holy Land to earn the Pope's indulgence, but what he had found was something completely different.
The man he had been taught to hate, his enemy, had become a man that consumed Nicolo's thoughts. For eighteen months (more, if he's truly honest, maybe even from the fourth time he awoke alive and seeing his enemy's face), Yusuf had consumed his thoughts, his dreams, his waking hours. It was torment to stare at Yusuf in the low light of day and ache to touch his face, but not know how to ask or whether Yusuf felt the same.
So he did what he could. He cooked, he praised him where possible, and he stared when he could. He knew, in his heart, that their plan was not something he could do. Nicolo knew that he could not take his sword to Yusuf's throat or heart again, he could not bear it.
Had he told Yusuf this?
No, of course not. For all he knew, the man still wished him dead once he discovered a manner to do it. And then, almost as if God had a joke to play on him, they were beset by criminals and Nicolo died by someone else's hand. He awoke to heaven, Yusuf's lips on his.
His shock was complete. He didn't even have a chance to close his eyes, gaping at Yusuf as he was kissed, his fingers threading through those curls he longed to touch, but suddenly, the words cut through him as fiercely as the blade had. No one kills you expect for me, and reminded him of the agreement Yusuf still thought them bound to.
And yet, the kiss? Why on earth was Yusuf kissing him?
Maybe this was another case of him not understanding Yusuf's language enough. Did he dream the kiss? The desperation? Nicolo searched to the side, seeing Yusuf's blade, but he didn't wish to move. "I don't think I understand what's happening," he eked out, deciding to stop pretending to know remotely what's going on.
I am such a dumb bunny for not looking there first XD
Yusuf didn't know what to say to that. He hadn't planned on kissing Nicolo, quite. The thrill of seeing him alive had just been too great for him to think past anything but his own, tangible relief. That, plus the fear he'd been swallowed by, moments before. The fear, not of being alone, but of being without Nicolo. That, apparently, was a fate worse than death for him. Worse than anything else. And now this man looks up at him with those wide, beautiful eyes and says he isn't sure what is happening.
Yeah. They could agree on that, probably.
Yusuf still can't bring himself to move away from Nicolo yet. His torso still looks like it is healing. He puts a hand on the other's chest, right over his heart, and gently pushes on it so he stays still. "You were injured," he decides to state the obvious in Nicolo's dialect. "Badly. It took you... It took awhile for you to heal. You should stay still until it is all finished."
His other hand is stroking Nicolo's hair without Yusuf even knowing he had started doing it. He can still taste the other's lips on his own. Yusuf hungers for it worse than a man craves water in a desert.
Nicolo intends to blame his recent death on why he's still paralyzed in place, unable to move. It's not that Yusuf is stroking his hair. It's not that Yusuf is staring at him with a hungry look that panics Nicolo because he thinks he recognizes it.
And it's definitely not because it thrills him to hear that Yusuf has killed a man for him.
If not for the kiss, he would think it a possessive and angry move, a reminder that Yusuf intends to sink his blade into Nicolo's heart again, which is a thought that leaves him flush with a hot rage, because he stopped wanting that, but if Yusuf intends to fight him, he won't go down easily. "Because you do not want anyone to kill me, but you," he interprets, but there is a bitterness in his words.
Maybe it was a claim, and the kiss had been a cruel tease. Maybe Yusuf had seen the way Nicolo stared too long at his lips and thought to twist the blade in a different way through his heart.
Yusuf hears the bitter edge and sees how Nicolo looks up at him in question and in what might be hope. The idea that he is looking for the same thing as him is almost too much to dream of. But then again, he hadn't swung a punch yet. And he didn't seem as though he was offended by the kiss nor the hand in his hair. Yusuf could hope. He could. But what would happen if he was wrong?
"Because," he starts, ready to give just that answer. But the truth pushes against his throat and chokes out the insufficient deception before it is allowed to be spoken. The truth bubbles up instead. "Because you are mine. No one touches what is mine. No one harms that which is mine.
Nicolo shifts onto his elbows, though he works very hard not to dislodge Yusuf's hand in his hair. He likes it there, he doesn't want to imply it should be going anywhere at this moment. That thought is a traitor, but one he doesn't deny.
His faith has shifted these last few years, and now he's left with an adoration of one man in particular, instead of God.
Yusuf speaks and Nicolo feels the bubbling of emotion in his chest, almost as if it's too much. "Yours," he echoes. "You said that I would be yours to kill," is very slow, very cautious, "but you look at me and hold me as if it's not death you wish on me anymore." Hope is creeping into his words, cupping his hand over Yusuf's.
Yusuf looks down at Nicolo silently, words leaving him. How is he his? In every single way, he wants to say. In every single way that he can think of and then some more on top. Yusuf looks at Joe and can only think of the fury that filled him at the idea of someone else harming him. The despair at seeing him struck down. His hand is warm now against his own and there is so much he can say but the words scare him as so few things do, anymore.
And yet.
"The same way that I am yours." He turns his hand and takes Nicolo's in his own for a moment. "You are correct. I do not wish your death any longer. A life without you...It seems unspeakably cold."
He lets Nicolo's hand go and presses the palm back to his chest. "We belong to one another. Body and heart.
Nicolo sits up more, but with his haste to keep Yusuf close, he's wound up practically in the man's lap, but it feels right to be so close. He adjusts his leg, moves it to where he'll be able to press it to the outside of his hip, squeezing his fingers tenderly around Yusuf's and holding on.
He knows what Yusuf means. It would be harsh and painful, a cold life without love, and it would be without Yusuf.
Soulmates, though. To speak of finding that connection, he knows that Yusuf is right, but it still thrills him. "If we cannot die, then you would be choosing to be mine for an eternity," he cautions, even though he already knows his soul is given. "I've given my heart to you. Without knowing it, I did," he admits. "Are you ready to make the same choice?"
Yusuf looks into Nicolo's eyes now as they are so close to him. He can see every speck of color in them and every emotion that passes through his mind. His hand that is free strokes over the other's cheek and down to his neck. Once, he had slit this very neck. More than once. It is unblemished now and soft. Just like Nicolo. Just like this moment here between them; it is unblemished and soft.
"There is no choice to make," he answers honestly, voice soft as he does so. "I have no choice to make because you have claimed my heart long before now, Nicolo. You have claimed every piece of me and I willingly give you anything left."
He leans in and presses their foreheads together.
"I choose eternity at your side, my fierce warrior. I choose to die at your side and nowhere else. We are bound."
Nicolo now acknowledges the feeling he'd had when fighting Yusuf, that this infidel and enemy that his heart had been taught to hate is also the most beautiful thing he's ever set eyes upon, and after almost years of travelling together, he is hopefully in love with him.
Not that he is going to tell Yusuf this.
Not yet.
"I should thank our enemies for striking me down," he quips, unable to help the levity. "If I didn't die, I think maybe you would not have kissed me and sparked such truths," he murmurs, hand sliding to cup Yusuf's neck firmly so he can pull him in for a fierce kiss, not short or chaste, but very clumsy.
In his defense, apart from the one Yusuf just gave him, he's only had one or two in his time. He's been busy fighting for God to be kissing too many people.
Yusuf leans into that kiss with desperate hunger. He wraps both arms around Nicolo to support him and hold him close as the clumsy kiss turns into something just a little more manageable. Yusuf has kissed many times in the past so he has an understanding of what needs to happen. Where to move his head. Where to place his hands. How to breathe and how to move his lips so Nicolo parts his own and allows his tongue to tease along the seam.
He lets out a small moan into Nicolo's mouth before he pulls back for air. A tiny, almost apologetic kiss is pecked onto his lips before Yusuf has any meaningful distance. He's smiling as he looks at Nicolo. His eyes are warm like the sand on a sunny plane.
"Never thank anyone who harms you," he insists. "I would have kissed you. Just at a later time. Those horrible men did nothing but speed up the schedule and I could have done to trade speed for not seeing you cut in half."
He was taught faith, how to fight, and how to hate. How to love is much easier, especially when he can melt into Yusuf's arms and let him show him what to do. He fumbles where to put his hands, but mimics what Yusuf is doing, as if that will be enough to give them both pleasure.
He hopes it is, he wants Yusuf to feel as though his soul is soaring, because that's how Nicolo feels. The moan leaves him chasing after him, eyes still shut, and he whimpers with desperation for a small kiss he doesn't think is enough.
"I am whole now," he says, though, he puts his fingers through the torn linens. "I cannot say the same for my clothing. I don't think I'm decent," he confesses, absently letting his nails drag against Yusuf's curls and the skin at the nape of his neck, amazed by its warmth and completely entangled by how much he can want another person.
"I do not want to keep searching for ways to die," he tells him. "Not when you've shown me a much better use of our time."
Yusuf's own hand moves down to the rip in Nicolo's clothes. The skin is mended and healed. As perfect as it ever is. "You are whole," he repeats before leaning up and kissing the other man once more. Slow and deep. There are so many ways to kiss and Yusuf wants to show him every one.
"You are whole and so am I."
He hums at the scratches to his head and the feeling of Nicolo so close to him. Absently, Yusuf just nuzzles against the skin of his jaw and cheek, breathing his love in and feeling the warmth of his skin. But they can't stay like this forever. They are in the middle of a bloodbath on a popular road. More criminals can be on their way, not to mention lay people who would see their affection and spew hatred for it.
He sighs and stands up, extending his hands to help Nicolo up. "Come. We are close to the next town. We can get a room there for the night and wash. Get you some new clothes." He chances a smile and moves closer.
"Get you out of these, perhaps? Only if you desire it. We have all the time in the world, habibi."
The touch is making Nicolo shiver slightly, breathing out raggedly as he stares at Yusuf's fingers so near to his flesh, healed as it is. It's more than he knows how to deal with when his body is already sending him a massive sign that he wants.
If Yusuf were to slide his hand lower, he would see that. Instantly.
Taking Yusuf's hand, he wills himself to calm down as he pulls himself to his feet, giving him a grateful nod as he brushes his hands over his clothes, though it does nothing. They are still bloodied, ripped, and dirty. "I would very much like to find a room and tidy myself. Or, perhaps, allow you to tidy me," he offers, with a hopeful glint in his eye.
Yusuf smiles both at the offer and at the clear sign of Nicolo's interest. Their clothes can't hide much and it is a comforting thing to see someone harboring desire for you. As soon as Nicolo is on his feet, Yusuf pulls him close and kisses him once more. Something soft and tender that promises things to come.
During the fighting, their horses took off. It's the problem with new mares that haven't bonded with their riders. They will need new ones when they get where they are going which will mean money. Money they have, certainly, but not that he is overly willing to spend.
He eyes the bodies on the ground and starts looking for purses to take. That and his sword still embedded in the man who had tried to take Nicolo from him. He takes it out roughly and uses the man's leg to clean it off before grabbing his purse. It feels heavy. "This is likely enough for a nice room. Private." That might now be a necessity for the two of them. The idea of it makes his blood sing. "We'll need new horses and replenish the supplies they ran off with. But all that can wait."
He walks back to Nicolo and slinks a hand under his shirt to spread against his heart.
"Tell me, priest. Have you had someone...tidy you...before?"
Nicolo blushes. Even with his beard and moustache, it's not enough to hide the furious red of his cheeks when he sees that Yusuf has clearly seen his interest, but at least he's not letting that cloud his offer or rescinding it.
Chin high, he stands by it, and is quickly rewarded with a kiss that has him aching for more. He nearly trips on his toe trying to seek out more, but the proximity of the busy road stops him.
His eyes light up for the coin that Yusuf has liberated, grateful that their attackers have seen fit to provide them with something so kind. Of course, then Yusuf has to go and make him blush again. "I am thirty," he protests (he's older, but he'd died at thirty). "And I was a priest before, no one has tidied me. I would have thought my fumbling kisses told you that," he says ruefully.
"I noticed nothing in your kisses except for how sweet you taste," he says with a grin as he liberates two more purses. As though to prove it, he tucks them both away and uses his freed hands to hold Nicoló's waist as he leans to kiss him again. He's already addicted to this taste.
"Come," he finally sighs. "Without horses it will take an hour to make it. Just before nightfall."
He takes Nicoló's hand in his own and starts the long walk. It's only a few steps before he returns to the previous topic, voice low even though they are alone.
"There are... Many ways a man can be with another man. I don't expect you to know them unless your army is far more lively than our's suspected." He squeezes Nicoló's hand at the tease.
"We don't have to do anything you don't wish to. Holding you tonight and kissing you will be a slice of heaven. More is just beyond my dreams. And I meant what I said before: we have time."
Nicolo's breath is going to be stolen away if he continues like this. He grasps at Yusuf's hand to hold tightly, almost dazed by how much he is taken by him, deeply approving of his liberation of the purses of their attackers. He viciously thinks he would have liked to have done worse, but they're dead now.
Yusuf's hands near his bare skin is an excellent distraction, one that has him sighing with content, even though his taking his hand. Only, then he has to go and bring up experience again.
Nicolo wants. That's not the problem.
"I have no experience. I am a..." He coughs, aware of his flush. "I am untouched," he thinks is the best way to describe it. "You will be the first man or woman to touch me in such a way, but I want to," he insists, his eyes blazing with determination.
It is a privilege to be one's first. Yusuf has been so in the past and has never shied from it. A partner's experience or lack there of meant little in the grand scheme. But this time... This time would be vastly different and far more significant.
"If you want it, you shall have it. Everything I can offer, Nicoló." He squeezes his hand and lifts it to press a kiss to the knuckles. "You will be the last person I shall ever know. In that way, you are like my first as well. My first and last. I choose an eternity at your side and I intend to do so faithfully."
He can't even imagine wanting to touch someone else. Yusuf admires beauty and recognizes it when it comes across him. But Nicoló is something more. How could mere beauty ever compare with him?
As they walk, other travellers join them. Yusuf has to drop Nicoló's hand since a Muslim and a Christian as friends is almost more dangerous in these parts than anyone suspecting more. Still, he walks close enough for their shoulders to brush and smiles at him often.
Nicolo breathes out shakily as his mind fills itself with so many thoughts of what Yusuf might be able to give to him. It's intoxicating and thrilling beyond explanation and he lets out a pleading little sound, hoping that the travellers near them will not hear it.
How could he have ever wanted to kill this man? His words seem capable of bringing him to his knees, in ways that Nicolo had never imagined. God could never give such beautiful words, not compared to this.
"Eternity, and he has not even bedded me," Nicolo says, buoyant with joy and delight. "Was my kiss that good?" Even with the space between them, he feels lighter than he did earlier, but he can also see the stares his clothes are getting. They see the tears, the blood, but no wound.
Perhaps he should have liberated something to wear from their enemies.
"It was breathtaking, habibi." He winks at the other man and otherwise behaves himself as they make it into the town and the stares Nicolo are getting are becoming more of an issue. The first shop they come across that has shirts gets a few coin so the bloody garment can be disposed of. He makes one more stop at an apothecary (though refuses to say for what). From there they can at least walk toward the inn without more attention than normal.
The stolen coin is able to get them a very nice room on the top floor. It is isolated and has a fireplace. The single bed is not a concern for them as they share often, as travelers must. Yusuf asks for water to be brought up for two baths and pays for that as well as wine and food.
He can't even look at Nicolo as he takes to the stairs and thrums with excitement about what is to come. Their extra items haven't come yet, so Yusuf pushes into the room and finally grins over at his friend. "Our friends have put us up in style, Nico. Do you approve?"
Nicolo snorts, because he's absolutely sure that it was far from breathtaking, but who is he to argue with that? He follows along, grateful for the coin to purchase a new shirt, pausing behind a privacy screen to slide into the new one, ruffling a hand through his hair to shake out dirt and blood and he thinks some guts.
He scrapes his nails through his beard, even more immensely grateful for Yusuf requesting baths.
It is, if Nicolo were to pick a word, romantic.
It's more romantic than he thinks he knows what to do with. Setting his sword in the corner, he wanders inside to stare at it in wonder, glancing to Yusuf only to be bowled over by the joy in his smile. His breath startles and he gapes, stupidly. "This beautiful room," he confesses, "but all I can stare at is you."
Yusuf smiles and has to stand still where he is lest he go across the room and drag Nicolo into his arms. Soon enough, though, there is a knock and water brought into their room along with a soaking tub. It is large. Larger than he would have expected. The wash basins are filled and then the tub. Soap is left on a nearby chair as well before they leave and return with platters of food. Yusuf had paid well so there is cheese, bread, fruit, and a few pieces of meat. Wine is left as well and he thanks them before closing the door and locking it.
They need privacy, now.
Yusuf smiles at Nicolo and walks slowly toward him. His hands go around his waist as he tugs him in for a kiss, finally. It is still divine. "Come," he urges, pulling Nicolo toward the wash basin by his hips. "Let me care for you."
Nicolo is telling himself to behave until he has a chance to truly enjoy Yusuf's company, watching the person at the door leave. His eye is fixed on them, but then the lock before he turns towards Yusuf's hold, angling his hips towards him.
He strolls, slowly, and lets Yusuf pull him over, but once they're there, he backs out of his touch.
"Let me," he insists, a serious look on his face as he undoes the leather belt, letting it drop to the ground with a thud. Next is the newly-purchased shirt, dropped off two fingers, and then, he bends to relieve himself of his pants and brais, once the boots are off.
When he stands again, he is bloodied and naked, but fully healed. Pushing both hands through his hair to brush it off his forehead, he stands there and waits, proud and terrified all at the same time, never having done this for anyone's approval before.
Yusuf smiles. "You deprived me of unwrapping you," he chastises without any real heat. He skims his fingertips along Nicolo's shoulders and down his chest. He stops just above his naked cock and moves them back up, smiling the whole time. "You are carved by God himself," Yusuf breathes. He leans in and presses a kiss to his lips. Soft. And then he can delay no longer.
There is a cloth he can soak in the wash basin. It is soft and glides along Nicolo's skin as Yusuf washes the blood away with gentle touches. Slowly, the skin is clearing of all imperfections. Any marring paint at all. He hums in approval.
"You are beautiful, Nicolo," he whispers close to his ear. "I am a blessed man to be touching you."
He would apologize, only, "You offered me eternity. Next time, I will tie myself up in a bow and offer myself to you as though you were God," Nicolo murmurs, still feeling his heart pulsing in his chest wildly, aware that he is on display in a way that he has never been before. It is intoxicating and amazing.
It is everything he dreamed of, but never thought it would happen. Though, when Yusuf's fingers stop before his cock, he lets out a pained and affronted grunting noise. "You would be far more blessed if you touched me everywhere," he says, aware his words are a touch cutting and petulant.
Still, he has been in such a state for too long now, and he yearns for a release.
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
I DO! Took me a bit to set up, but it's there!
The man he had been taught to hate, his enemy, had become a man that consumed Nicolo's thoughts. For eighteen months (more, if he's truly honest, maybe even from the fourth time he awoke alive and seeing his enemy's face), Yusuf had consumed his thoughts, his dreams, his waking hours. It was torment to stare at Yusuf in the low light of day and ache to touch his face, but not know how to ask or whether Yusuf felt the same.
So he did what he could. He cooked, he praised him where possible, and he stared when he could. He knew, in his heart, that their plan was not something he could do. Nicolo knew that he could not take his sword to Yusuf's throat or heart again, he could not bear it.
Had he told Yusuf this?
No, of course not. For all he knew, the man still wished him dead once he discovered a manner to do it. And then, almost as if God had a joke to play on him, they were beset by criminals and Nicolo died by someone else's hand. He awoke to heaven, Yusuf's lips on his.
His shock was complete. He didn't even have a chance to close his eyes, gaping at Yusuf as he was kissed, his fingers threading through those curls he longed to touch, but suddenly, the words cut through him as fiercely as the blade had. No one kills you expect for me, and reminded him of the agreement Yusuf still thought them bound to.
And yet, the kiss? Why on earth was Yusuf kissing him?
Maybe this was another case of him not understanding Yusuf's language enough. Did he dream the kiss? The desperation? Nicolo searched to the side, seeing Yusuf's blade, but he didn't wish to move. "I don't think I understand what's happening," he eked out, deciding to stop pretending to know remotely what's going on.
I am such a dumb bunny for not looking there first XD
Yeah. They could agree on that, probably.
Yusuf still can't bring himself to move away from Nicolo yet. His torso still looks like it is healing. He puts a hand on the other's chest, right over his heart, and gently pushes on it so he stays still. "You were injured," he decides to state the obvious in Nicolo's dialect. "Badly. It took you... It took awhile for you to heal. You should stay still until it is all finished."
His other hand is stroking Nicolo's hair without Yusuf even knowing he had started doing it. He can still taste the other's lips on his own. Yusuf hungers for it worse than a man craves water in a desert.
"I killed the man who did it to you."
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And it's definitely not because it thrills him to hear that Yusuf has killed a man for him.
If not for the kiss, he would think it a possessive and angry move, a reminder that Yusuf intends to sink his blade into Nicolo's heart again, which is a thought that leaves him flush with a hot rage, because he stopped wanting that, but if Yusuf intends to fight him, he won't go down easily. "Because you do not want anyone to kill me, but you," he interprets, but there is a bitterness in his words.
Maybe it was a claim, and the kiss had been a cruel tease. Maybe Yusuf had seen the way Nicolo stared too long at his lips and thought to twist the blade in a different way through his heart.
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"Because," he starts, ready to give just that answer. But the truth pushes against his throat and chokes out the insufficient deception before it is allowed to be spoken. The truth bubbles up instead. "Because you are mine. No one touches what is mine. No one harms that which is mine.
"And you are mine, Nicolo..."
Let him interpret that as he wished.
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His faith has shifted these last few years, and now he's left with an adoration of one man in particular, instead of God.
Yusuf speaks and Nicolo feels the bubbling of emotion in his chest, almost as if it's too much. "Yours," he echoes. "You said that I would be yours to kill," is very slow, very cautious, "but you look at me and hold me as if it's not death you wish on me anymore." Hope is creeping into his words, cupping his hand over Yusuf's.
"How am I yours?"
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And yet.
"The same way that I am yours." He turns his hand and takes Nicolo's in his own for a moment. "You are correct. I do not wish your death any longer. A life without you...It seems unspeakably cold."
He lets Nicolo's hand go and presses the palm back to his chest. "We belong to one another. Body and heart.
"Soulmates."
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He knows what Yusuf means. It would be harsh and painful, a cold life without love, and it would be without Yusuf.
Soulmates, though. To speak of finding that connection, he knows that Yusuf is right, but it still thrills him. "If we cannot die, then you would be choosing to be mine for an eternity," he cautions, even though he already knows his soul is given. "I've given my heart to you. Without knowing it, I did," he admits. "Are you ready to make the same choice?"
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"There is no choice to make," he answers honestly, voice soft as he does so. "I have no choice to make because you have claimed my heart long before now, Nicolo. You have claimed every piece of me and I willingly give you anything left."
He leans in and presses their foreheads together.
"I choose eternity at your side, my fierce warrior. I choose to die at your side and nowhere else. We are bound."
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Not that he is going to tell Yusuf this.
Not yet.
"I should thank our enemies for striking me down," he quips, unable to help the levity. "If I didn't die, I think maybe you would not have kissed me and sparked such truths," he murmurs, hand sliding to cup Yusuf's neck firmly so he can pull him in for a fierce kiss, not short or chaste, but very clumsy.
In his defense, apart from the one Yusuf just gave him, he's only had one or two in his time. He's been busy fighting for God to be kissing too many people.
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He lets out a small moan into Nicolo's mouth before he pulls back for air. A tiny, almost apologetic kiss is pecked onto his lips before Yusuf has any meaningful distance. He's smiling as he looks at Nicolo. His eyes are warm like the sand on a sunny plane.
"Never thank anyone who harms you," he insists. "I would have kissed you. Just at a later time. Those horrible men did nothing but speed up the schedule and I could have done to trade speed for not seeing you cut in half."
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He was taught faith, how to fight, and how to hate. How to love is much easier, especially when he can melt into Yusuf's arms and let him show him what to do. He fumbles where to put his hands, but mimics what Yusuf is doing, as if that will be enough to give them both pleasure.
He hopes it is, he wants Yusuf to feel as though his soul is soaring, because that's how Nicolo feels. The moan leaves him chasing after him, eyes still shut, and he whimpers with desperation for a small kiss he doesn't think is enough.
"I am whole now," he says, though, he puts his fingers through the torn linens. "I cannot say the same for my clothing. I don't think I'm decent," he confesses, absently letting his nails drag against Yusuf's curls and the skin at the nape of his neck, amazed by its warmth and completely entangled by how much he can want another person.
"I do not want to keep searching for ways to die," he tells him. "Not when you've shown me a much better use of our time."
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"You are whole and so am I."
He hums at the scratches to his head and the feeling of Nicolo so close to him. Absently, Yusuf just nuzzles against the skin of his jaw and cheek, breathing his love in and feeling the warmth of his skin. But they can't stay like this forever. They are in the middle of a bloodbath on a popular road. More criminals can be on their way, not to mention lay people who would see their affection and spew hatred for it.
He sighs and stands up, extending his hands to help Nicolo up. "Come. We are close to the next town. We can get a room there for the night and wash. Get you some new clothes." He chances a smile and moves closer.
"Get you out of these, perhaps? Only if you desire it. We have all the time in the world, habibi."
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If Yusuf were to slide his hand lower, he would see that. Instantly.
Taking Yusuf's hand, he wills himself to calm down as he pulls himself to his feet, giving him a grateful nod as he brushes his hands over his clothes, though it does nothing. They are still bloodied, ripped, and dirty. "I would very much like to find a room and tidy myself. Or, perhaps, allow you to tidy me," he offers, with a hopeful glint in his eye.
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During the fighting, their horses took off. It's the problem with new mares that haven't bonded with their riders. They will need new ones when they get where they are going which will mean money. Money they have, certainly, but not that he is overly willing to spend.
He eyes the bodies on the ground and starts looking for purses to take. That and his sword still embedded in the man who had tried to take Nicolo from him. He takes it out roughly and uses the man's leg to clean it off before grabbing his purse. It feels heavy. "This is likely enough for a nice room. Private." That might now be a necessity for the two of them. The idea of it makes his blood sing. "We'll need new horses and replenish the supplies they ran off with. But all that can wait."
He walks back to Nicolo and slinks a hand under his shirt to spread against his heart.
"Tell me, priest. Have you had someone...tidy you...before?"
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Chin high, he stands by it, and is quickly rewarded with a kiss that has him aching for more. He nearly trips on his toe trying to seek out more, but the proximity of the busy road stops him.
His eyes light up for the coin that Yusuf has liberated, grateful that their attackers have seen fit to provide them with something so kind. Of course, then Yusuf has to go and make him blush again. "I am thirty," he protests (he's older, but he'd died at thirty). "And I was a priest before, no one has tidied me. I would have thought my fumbling kisses told you that," he says ruefully.
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"Come," he finally sighs. "Without horses it will take an hour to make it. Just before nightfall."
He takes Nicoló's hand in his own and starts the long walk. It's only a few steps before he returns to the previous topic, voice low even though they are alone.
"There are... Many ways a man can be with another man. I don't expect you to know them unless your army is far more lively than our's suspected." He squeezes Nicoló's hand at the tease.
"We don't have to do anything you don't wish to. Holding you tonight and kissing you will be a slice of heaven. More is just beyond my dreams. And I meant what I said before: we have time."
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Yusuf's hands near his bare skin is an excellent distraction, one that has him sighing with content, even though his taking his hand. Only, then he has to go and bring up experience again.
Nicolo wants. That's not the problem.
"I have no experience. I am a..." He coughs, aware of his flush. "I am untouched," he thinks is the best way to describe it. "You will be the first man or woman to touch me in such a way, but I want to," he insists, his eyes blazing with determination.
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"If you want it, you shall have it. Everything I can offer, Nicoló." He squeezes his hand and lifts it to press a kiss to the knuckles. "You will be the last person I shall ever know. In that way, you are like my first as well. My first and last. I choose an eternity at your side and I intend to do so faithfully."
He can't even imagine wanting to touch someone else. Yusuf admires beauty and recognizes it when it comes across him. But Nicoló is something more. How could mere beauty ever compare with him?
As they walk, other travellers join them. Yusuf has to drop Nicoló's hand since a Muslim and a Christian as friends is almost more dangerous in these parts than anyone suspecting more. Still, he walks close enough for their shoulders to brush and smiles at him often.
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How could he have ever wanted to kill this man? His words seem capable of bringing him to his knees, in ways that Nicolo had never imagined. God could never give such beautiful words, not compared to this.
"Eternity, and he has not even bedded me," Nicolo says, buoyant with joy and delight. "Was my kiss that good?" Even with the space between them, he feels lighter than he did earlier, but he can also see the stares his clothes are getting. They see the tears, the blood, but no wound.
Perhaps he should have liberated something to wear from their enemies.
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The stolen coin is able to get them a very nice room on the top floor. It is isolated and has a fireplace. The single bed is not a concern for them as they share often, as travelers must. Yusuf asks for water to be brought up for two baths and pays for that as well as wine and food.
He can't even look at Nicolo as he takes to the stairs and thrums with excitement about what is to come. Their extra items haven't come yet, so Yusuf pushes into the room and finally grins over at his friend. "Our friends have put us up in style, Nico. Do you approve?"
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He scrapes his nails through his beard, even more immensely grateful for Yusuf requesting baths.
It is, if Nicolo were to pick a word, romantic.
It's more romantic than he thinks he knows what to do with. Setting his sword in the corner, he wanders inside to stare at it in wonder, glancing to Yusuf only to be bowled over by the joy in his smile. His breath startles and he gapes, stupidly. "This beautiful room," he confesses, "but all I can stare at is you."
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They need privacy, now.
Yusuf smiles at Nicolo and walks slowly toward him. His hands go around his waist as he tugs him in for a kiss, finally. It is still divine. "Come," he urges, pulling Nicolo toward the wash basin by his hips. "Let me care for you."
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He strolls, slowly, and lets Yusuf pull him over, but once they're there, he backs out of his touch.
"Let me," he insists, a serious look on his face as he undoes the leather belt, letting it drop to the ground with a thud. Next is the newly-purchased shirt, dropped off two fingers, and then, he bends to relieve himself of his pants and brais, once the boots are off.
When he stands again, he is bloodied and naked, but fully healed. Pushing both hands through his hair to brush it off his forehead, he stands there and waits, proud and terrified all at the same time, never having done this for anyone's approval before.
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There is a cloth he can soak in the wash basin. It is soft and glides along Nicolo's skin as Yusuf washes the blood away with gentle touches. Slowly, the skin is clearing of all imperfections. Any marring paint at all. He hums in approval.
"You are beautiful, Nicolo," he whispers close to his ear. "I am a blessed man to be touching you."
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He would apologize, only, "You offered me eternity. Next time, I will tie myself up in a bow and offer myself to you as though you were God," Nicolo murmurs, still feeling his heart pulsing in his chest wildly, aware that he is on display in a way that he has never been before. It is intoxicating and amazing.
It is everything he dreamed of, but never thought it would happen. Though, when Yusuf's fingers stop before his cock, he lets out a pained and affronted grunting noise. "You would be far more blessed if you touched me everywhere," he says, aware his words are a touch cutting and petulant.
Still, he has been in such a state for too long now, and he yearns for a release.
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Sorry! Work was awful!
Totally understand!