Chapter Text
“Nicolò!” Lord Yusuf exclaimed when he returned, sounding delighted. “Did you eat all this?” Nicolò glanced down at his empty plate and then smiled shyly up at Lord Yusuf.
“I did.”
The smile Lord Yusuf returned to him was stunning and caused the crow’s feet around his eyes to crinkle up. Nicolò felt warmth pool in his chest at the sight. “You are feeling better today, then?”
“Yes, Your Grace. My head hurts much less, too.”
Lord Yusuf knelt at the side of the bed, leaning forward slightly. Nicolò was already sitting up, and so it was the easiest thing to lean towards him, and their lips met for a brief, soft kiss.
When they parted, Yusuf’s smile was softer, and his eyes were shining. “Oh, Nicolò,” he murmured, tucking a lock of hair behind Nicolò’s ear. “I’m so relieved to hear it. You had me very worried, beloved.”
Nicolò glanced down, shame twisting in his stomach. “I’m sorry--”
“Shhh,” Lord Yusuf hushed him, placing a finger over Nicolò’s lips. “Don’t.”
“But--I--” Nicolò felt the bottom drop out of his stomach.
Lord Yusuf cupped his jaw, stroking his little finger side-to-side over the ribbon at Nicolò’s neck. “You what, dearest? I know you did not get sick on purpose.”
“Yes, but--but I’ve cost you--”
Yusuf’s gaze sharpened. “Oh?”
Nicolò shut his mouth and looked down. He didn’t know what Lord Yusuf would think of his eavesdropping.
“Nico,” Lord Yusuf said, his tone neutral. He didn’t move his hand away or force Nicolò’s gaze up, but Nicolò’s stomach tightened at his tone of voice. “Don’t hide things from me, beloved.”
Nicolò was barely out of his fever and he was already getting himself in trouble again. “I’m sorry, my Lord. I overheard you talking to Doctor Ismail.”
“Is that right?”
“Why did you do that?” Nicolò blurted out. His heart was hammering in his chest. “Why did you--make yourself weaker?” He winced at his own phrasing. He glanced up at Lord Yusuf’s face. He was frowning, his brow wrinkled, but he looked more confused than angry. “I mean…” Nicolò swallowed. “You weakened your holdings. Your birthright.”
Why hadn’t Lord Yusuf said anything yet? He had only cocked his head and was looking at Nicolò with that same expression on his face. Nicolò’s heart rabbited faster in his chest. Maybe it wasn’t confusion? Maybe it was anger? Nicolò tensed, as if for a blow, but none appeared. “I’m sorry,” Nicolò stammered. “Of course it’s your business. I just don’t understand. Please forgive me.” He diverted his eyes downward once more.
“Hayati,” Yusuf said, in a voice so gentle that Nicolò sagged with relief. “I’m not mad at you. Do you hear me?”
“Yes, Sire,” Nicolò answered readily, blinking back tears of relief.
“I--” Lord Yusuf hesitated, halfway through his sentence. Nicolò immediately looked up, searching his face. He’d never heard Lord Yusuf hesitate like this before. Lord Yusuf’s thumb stroked over Nicolò’s cheekbone. “This is not a conversation I can have with you here, darling. Later, when we have some privacy.”
Nicolò licked his lips and watched Lord Yusuf track the motion. “Why not now? I feel better. We--we could go upstairs now?”
Lord Yusuf’s gaze heated, and he smirked. “So eager, Nico?” He slid his hand to Nicolò’s chin and stroked at his lower lip with his thumb.
The claiming touch against his mouth and the hungry look on Yusuf’s face sent heat racing to Nicolò’s groin for the first time in over a week. Privacy sounded like a good idea for many reasons. Nicolò nodded. “Yes, Sire.”
Yusuf took his hand and kissed the back of it. “I will check with Doctor Ismail, beloved.”
Nicolò pouted. “Please, Sire. I’m feeling so much better now.”
“Don’t whine, Nicolò,” Lord Yusuf admonished, his tone warm and indulgent. “If Ismail says you don’t need the cooling baths anymore then we can move you upstairs in time for bedtime tonight.”
Nicolò frowned, but nodded quietly. He hesitated. “Would you...hold me, Sire? For a little while?”
“Of course, darling.” Lord Yusuf shifted as if to join Nicolò on his pallet, and Nicolò rolled away, on to his side. His heart hammered. He hoped he wasn’t being presumptuous, assuming Yusuf would want to hold him in this position. “Oh, sweetheart,” Lord Yusuf said tenderly, and touched the back of Nicolò’s head instead of curling up behind him. “Let me fix this for you.”
Nicolò flushed. He knew it didn’t make much sense, with how weak he’d been, but he felt embarrassed that he hadn’t been able to care for his own grooming and that his hair was so tangled. He had finger-combed through several of the knots the day prior before growing tired, so it wasn’t as bad as it could be, but still… “Yes, Sire,” he murmured, through his embarrassment.
Lord Yusuf stood and Nicolò watched as he crossed to the end of the room, past the hot water basin, to the built-in shelves, and retrieved a comb, a brush, and a large stoppered vial.
Lord Yusuf returned to sit at the head of Nicolò’s pallet and together they fanned out all of Nicolò’s hair on the pillow. Yusuf worked slowly, first separating each big tangle with a few drops of oil and his fingers.
“Let me know if I’m hurting you, my heart,” Lord Yusuf said, quietly, and Nicolò’s heart seized in his chest. Yusuf didn’t want to hurt him accidentally. No--only ever intentionally, and only when Nicolò disobeyed. He’d known that, but... it hit a little differently, after a week of Yusuf carrying him into the cold water bath multiple times a day, each time patting dry the skin around his neck and then re-tying his ribbon.
When Yusuf had worked out all the knots he could find, he switched to the comb. He combed in small sections, starting from the ends of Nicolò’s hair, up to the scalp. When he exchanged the comb for the boar-bristle brush, he paused to smooth a hand over Nicolò’s head, and Nicolò felt a wave of peacefulness wash over his body. Each pass of the bristles over his scalp sent tingles of pleasure down to his toes. He exerted control over his breathing, at first, still accustomed to habits of silence.
“Does that feel pleasant, sweetheart?” Yusuf murmured down to him, and Nicolò realized how foolish he was being. Of course Yusuf wanted to hear from Nicolò; he wanted to know how good Nicolò felt.
“Yes, Your Grace. So good,” he whispered. At the next pass of the brush through his hair, Nicolò allowed a happy, barely vocalized sigh to escape. Yusuf leaned over and pressed a kiss to his forehead.
“My sweet Nicolò,” Yusuf husked against his forehead, and pressed a second kiss to his temple. Then he curled up behind Nicolò and held him for several minutes, their fingers interwoven over Nicolò’s stomach.
Nicolò wanted to know what Yusuf could only tell him in private.
After a time, Yusuf extracted himself, Nicolò swallowing his protests down. He returned with Doctor Ismail, who inspected Nicolò’s brand and felt at his wrists, the underside of his jaw, and forehead. “It is as I thought. His fever has broken,” the doctor announced approvingly. “There’s no need to keep him down here any longer, especially since his own bed will be more comfortable.”
Servants dressed Nicolò in soft, silk pants and helped him stand. The walk up to his room was extremely slow and tedious, but Nicolò did not want to be carried any more. Instead, he leaned heavily on Paolo, and Faheem carried a chair for them so that Nicolò could sit when he needed to rest. Lord Yusuf hovered near the entire time.
Finally, they made it back to Nicolò’s bedroom. The only change to it was a fresh set of bed linens and a wooden box on the vanity table. Reclining in the bed was an enormous relief. After the servants had fluffed the pillows and made Nicolò comfortable, Lord Yusuf dismissed them, and then the two men were alone.
Lord Yusuf made Nicolò drink a vessel of water, then sat beside Nicolò’s propped-up form and held his hand.
“Will you tell me, now?” Nicolò asked after he’d fully caught his breath.
Lord Yusuf stroked the back of Nicolò’s hand softly with his free one. “Are you not too tired, darling?”
Nicolò shook his head.
Yusuf squeezed Nicolò’s hand in both of his and hung his head as if to ponder their intertwined fingers. Nicolò waited.
“From a naïve perspective,” Yusuf began, his voice soft but sure. “You are right.” Nicolò could not make out the expression on his downturned face. “I did make myself weaker. A lord’s power is determined by his wealth, by his lands.” Yusuf paused and shook his head. “But the thought of losing you, Nicolò…” Lord Yusuf’s voice grew softer, and Nicolò had to strain to hear him. “Wealth and lands are for living men, Nico, and to lose you...I would be all but dead inside.”
Nicolò’s stomach was a knot of confusion. He knew the lord had feelings for him, yes, but this sounded like so much more.
Lord Yusuf looked up, then. His eyes were wide and shiny with unshed tears. “You are my biggest weakness, Nicolò,” he confessed in a hoarse whisper. “And somehow, I don’t even mind. It isn’t something to fix or change.” He closed his eyes and shook his head, a look of bewilderment crossing his face. A solitary tear escaped and landed on their entwined hands. When Yusuf looked up at Nicolò again, he was chewing his lip. “‘I’m--” he stopped to clear his throat. “I may be explaining this...poorly.” He let out a huge sigh.
“Nicolò, could you tell me, in your own words, what you are to me?”
Nicolò hesitated and Yusuf squeezed his hand.
“Whatever you are thinking, my love, it is okay to say to me.”
“Your slave,” Nicolò blurted out. A muscle twitched in Yusuf’s cheek, almost a wince, and Yusuf nodded slowly.
“Go on,” he said gently.
“Your--your property.” He saw Lord Yusuf’s eyebrows creep together in sorrow, and Nicolò hastened to elaborate. “Treasured--treasured property. Um.” Heat crept over his face. “A, um. A plaything. But a very valuable plaything.” Nicolò coughed. “You call me--beloved and darling. I know that you…” Nicolò’s free hand squeezed a handful of the bedspread nervously. You say you love me. “I know that you l-love me. You value me.”
“More than I’ve ever valued anything in my life.”
Nicolò was struck dumb.
“Nicolò…” Yusuf heaved a large sigh and released Nicolò’s hand to scrub his hands over his face. “I don’t know how to...how to make you understand. I never thought I’d have a conversation like this, and so I never prepared.”
Nicolò didn’t know what that meant. “I’m trying to understand, Sire,” he offered. Lord Yusuf nodded and stared off at the far wall, chewing his lip. He sighed again and crossed his arms over his chest, then uncrossed them. He pushed himself off the bed and began pacing, then stopped to look out the window, arms braced against the windowsill and shoulders hunched. Nicolò didn’t know what to make of it.
Finally, Lord Yusuf clasped his hands behind his back and turned. He regarded Nicolò for a brief moment, then removed his circlet to place it on the bedside table. He rejoined him on the bed, crossing his legs and placing his hands in his lap. “I’m not like other men, Nicolò,” he said, his voice soft. “I know that. I’ve known that since I was a child.”
“What…” Nicolò whispered. “What do you mean?”
Yusuf reached his hand out, and Nicolò took it, unthinkingly.
“You know, I don’t...I don’t feel things the way other men feel them.” Lord Yusuf frowned and gazed around the room. “My father said...he said it was a dangerous way to be. That people would hate me, and that would put me in danger.” Nicolò thought back to the frightening, dead look on Yusuf’s face when Umayma had admonished him. “I had to...to learn to control myself. To pretend.” Nicolò swallowed. “This isn’t pretend for me, Nicolò,” Yusuf said, voice low and fervent. He twisted to look into Nicolò’s face, and when Nicolò met his eyes, a shock went down his spine at the sheer intensity glowing in them.
“I know I can’t love you like a normal man, but I can love you like this. The only way I know how. This is who I am and I’ve never, never felt about anything the way you make me feel. Like I would give anything at all to keep you. Like I’d rather have you than every coin in the world.” Nicolò suppressed a shiver. “I need you, Nicolò. I have to have you. I have to keep you and care for you. And if that costs me everything else I have, well. I would do it just the same.”
Nicolò’s mouth opened a little in shock. Yusuf tilted his head and offered him a sad little smile. “My life would be empty without you, Nicolò. Empty and utterly pointless.”
Nicolò couldn’t think of a proper response to this shocking pronouncement. “Oh,” he said. Yusuf looked so wistful, and Nicolò reached out to--to what? Yusuf met his hand where it hovered between them and pressed it to his bearded cheek. Nicolò felt a surge of warm affection in his chest and stroked his thumb over the dark, coarse hairs. Yusuf sighed happily.
“Thank you for telling me, Your Grace,” Nicolò offered, softly. Yusuf only nodded and nuzzled his face against Nicolò’s palm before pressing his lips into it.
Nicolò felt a tingle race up his arm at the sensation. Yusuf cupped the back of Nicolò’s hand so that he could press another kiss against it, and another, this one on his inner wrist. Nicolò squirmed a little in pleasure and grabbed Yusuf’s robes with his free hand. “Yusuf…” he sighed. He didn’t feel afraid right then, not even a little bit. He thought of the lord’s confession, and what it meant about them, and swallowed hard. “Yusuf…”
“I’m here, hayati,” Yusuf murmured against his palm.
“What does that mean?” Nicolò asked. “Hayati?” A wave of déjà vu washed over him.
“It means ‘my life,’” Yusuf answered. “You don’t remember?”
“I’m not...I’m not sure.”
“That doesn’t surprise me,” Yusuf said. “You asked me in the baths, when you were very sick.” He encircled Nicolò’s wrist in one hand and set it gently on the bed. “And you’re still so weak. We should not…”
“Yusuf,” Nicolò whined. “I want…” He trailed off.
“What do you want, darling?”
“You,” Nicolò whispered.
“What about me?” Yusuf asked, a teasing curl to his voice, his mouth quirked up in one corner.
“Holding me.” Nicolò looked down; the eye contact was too much. “Touching me. Kiss--” He startled a little at the caress of Yusuf’s thumb on his lower lip. “Kissing me.” He swallowed, hard.
“What else, sweetheart?” Yusuf’s voice was like velvet, and Nicolò didn’t hold back his shiver this time.
“I want you to feel good and...I want your hands...on--on me.” Nicolò couldn’t force himself to speak more plainly, but Yusuf groaned nonetheless.
Yusuf leaned in for a soft, too-short kiss before pulling back, drawing a whine from Nicolò’s lips.
“Sssh, hush. You’re too weak, my love. I need you to rest.”
“But--” daringly, Nicolò reached for Lord Yusuf’s shoulders to pull him back in, but Yusuf forestalled him by grabbing his wrists and settling them on the bedspread firmly.
“I said no, Nico,” Yusuf said, but his voice was warm and indulgent, and his mouth held a little smile.
“Please,” Nicolò could only say, and Yusuf dropped a kiss onto his forehead. “Aren’t there...are there not things we could do that wouldn’t tire me?”
“Hmm,” Yusuf said. He eyed the pillows propping up Nicolò and wiggled two of them out so that Nicolò could recline properly. “In a fashion. Why don’t you lie back for me, dear heart--yes, that’s a good boy.”
Yusuf shucked his clothing and curled up under the covers against Nicolò’s side. Nicolò tried to turn towards him, but Yusuf stopped him with a firm hand on his shoulder. “No, Nico. We’re only doing this if you rest. Close your eyes and keep your hands at your side.” Nico swallowed and complied. Yusuf scooted closer and Nicolò could feel the flesh of Yusuf’s warm thighs and semi-hard cock brushing the back of his hand. “Will you stay still for me, darling?” Yusuf asked, his breath hot and moist huffing against Nicolò’s ear.
Nicolò could feel his own cock hardening and repressed the urge to hump up against the bedding covering him. “I’ll try,” he answered honestly. His voice sounded raspy in his ears.
“That’s my good boy,” Yusuf murmured, and Nicolò pressed his hands against the mattress hard to keep some control of himself.
“You’re being so obedient for me, sweetheart. I love how good you are.” Yusuf curled a hand around his shaft and started jerking himself slowly, his cockhead bumping up against Nicolò’s clothed hip. “I can only imagine how good you’ll be for me when I finally--ngh--finally fuck you, darling. When you’re better. Do you want to know what I’m going to do to you, my love?”
Nicolò nodded desperately, his eyes squeezed shut.
“I’ll lay you out on the bed,” Yusuf husked. “On your stomach--you’ll be so beautiful.” His hand sped up slightly. “I’ll tell you to reach back and hold yourself open for me so I can see your hole.” Nicolò whined in the back of his throat. “I’ll kiss you, your perfect thighs, your perfect ass, and then I’ll lick your sweet, unf, your sweet little hole…”
Nicolò’s eyes flew open. “You’ll--what?”
“Nicolò,” Lord Yusuf admonished. “You’re resting, or we’re not doing this.”
Nicolò squeezed his eyes shut. “I’m sorry, Sire, I’m sorry.”
“As I was saying.” Yusuf took up stroking himself again. “I’ll lick into you, and you’ll hold yourself open for me, even as your arms begin to tremble with strain. I’ll get you so wet. You’ll be twitching, darling. You’ll love it, you’ll see. And then I’ll open you up on my fingers, so slowly.” Yusuf groaned, long and low. “You’ll be hot as anything inside, Nico, and tight, so perfectly tight for me.” Nicolò curled his hands into fists in an effort to keep his hips still. “When you’re loose enough, I’ll tell you to get on your hands and knees. And you’ll do it, you’ll be so eager to please me.”
“Yes, Yusuf,” Nicolò choked out.
“Good--fuck--that’s my good boy. My sweet, perfect boy.” Yusuf’s tongue flicked out and licked the shell of Nicolò’s ear, and Nicolò gasped. “I’ll push my cock into you, baby, and you’ll take it so well for me. You’ll bend and push and open up just as I tell you.” Nicolò whimpered.
“And when I tell you--tell you to take all my seed--what will you do, Nico?”
“I’ll take it, Sire,” Nicolò choked out. “I’ll want it--want it in me--”
“God, Nico, oh god--fuck--” Yusuf’s hand sped up, bumping against Nicolò’s hip, and Nicolò couldn’t help the tiny, hitching motions of his hips as Yusuf spilled himself with a long, punched-out moan, soaking the fabric of Nicolò’s silk pants.
“Yusuf, please--please may I--”
Yusuf buried his head against Nicolò’s shoulder and shook it. “No, darling, I’m sorry.”
“But I--” Nicolò swallowed his protests and willed his body to relax a fraction. “I’m so--so hard,” he forced out.
“Ssh, it’s okay. You’ll calm down in a moment. Just breathe for me, hmm?”
Nicolò let out a shaky breath. “That’s my good boy. In…” Yusuf inhaled, and Nicolò matched him. “And out.” Nicolò exhaled and uncurled his fists.
“You need to preserve your energy, my love. Doctor Ismail insisted.”
“Yes, my Lord,” Nicolò whispered.
Yusuf wrapped an arm around Nicolò’s stomach and squeezed him tightly. “I love you so much, Nicolò. So much.”
Nicolò could only wonder to himself what it was he felt for Lord Yusuf in return.