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Joe first sees him while he’s leaning against the bar next to Andy. Booker is sitting in one of the corner booths, Quynh sitting next to him talking to a Dom that Joe vaguely recognises. There’s a stranger curled up next to Booker, his head resting on Booker’s shoulder, his messy dark hair covering most of his face. Booker has a small, fond smile on his lips as he murmurs something into the dark hair. Joe can almost hear the french words, even though there’s no possible way he can over the music and chatter in the bar.
Andy sees him looking and takes another swig of her bourbon. For one of the owners of the club, she sure drinks a lot of her own booze. Joe has seen her throw back at least three of them in the last hour, but she doesn’t seem in the least bit affected. “That’s Nicky,” she says in the blunt, straightforward way of hers that he’d instantly liked when meeting her months ago, when Nile had introduced them.
“Is he..?” Joe trails off, and Andy shakes her head, a little soft smile on her mouth.
“He’s not ours,” she says. “We’ve got our hands full enough with Booker. But we’ve done a few scenes with him when he’s needed it, in the past.”
As if Nicky hears them talking about him, the man lifts his head and looks right at Joe. The blue-grey of his gaze punches the breath right out of Joe’s lungs; his stomach swoops low and then impossibly high. Their eyes are connected for only a moment, but it’s enough that Joe knows that he’s probably going to do some Very Stupid Things just to feel those eyes on him again. And then Nicky looks away, to Andy, and then ducks his head back against Booker’s shoulder. His hair has moved from its position over his face so Joe can trace his cheekbones and jawline, the glint of silver in his earlobe. He’s so fucking gorgeous that it hurts.
When he turns back to Andy, he sees her looking at him with an unreadable look in her eyes over the rim of her glass. Joe flushes a bit under her gaze; had he been that obvious?
“Hm,” Andy hums. Joe feels like he’s being very intensely judged, and he can’t tell what she’s decided on, if she’s decided on anything at all.
“I haven’t seen him around,” Joe says. And he’s been to The Old Guard (a strange name for a BDSM club, but Joe’s into it; it’s nicer than the one he used to frequent where he lived before, more laid back, with less douchey Doms high on their perceived power) a lot in the past few months that he’s moved to this city. If he’d seen a man around as beautiful as Nicky, he would’ve remembered. Distinctly.
“He doesn’t come often,” is all Andy says. Joe has a feeling that she’s not going to give him any more information, and even though he’s itching to know more about the man, he gives in when Andy changes the subject.
~~~
Another week, and another visit to The Old Guard. This time Nile is with him, and her flavour of the week; a lovely young man who follows after her like she is the sun.
Joe says hello to Andy and Quynh and Booker, who are all too busy with being dungeon masters to talk too long, then dances with a few people, drinks some drinks bought for him, and even though there are some beautiful submissive men in here that he would gladly take to bed other nights, he only has eyes for one.
Nicky sticks close to Andy and Quynh when he arrives, and when they are off on club business or in the back rooms (‘play rooms’, or dungeons, basically for people to scene together under the watchful eye of whoever was ‘on guard duty’ that night), he sticks close to the side of the bar. For someone as alluring as him he’s not approached much; when he is, Joe notices that Booker or Andy or Quynh, no matter how busy they are, somehow materialise, and the poor sod who tried slinks back onto the dance floor or back to his friends. They’re protective, almost to a fault, but it doesn’t seem that Nicky minds. Whenever Joe catches a glance at his face, he seems calm, and even a little thankful. There is no trace of annoyance in his expression.
“Who’re you staring at?” Nile asks, bumping up against his side with her bottle of beer. “Do you need me to grab you a napkin or something? You’re drooling.”
Joe refuses to touch his chin to check if he actually has saliva dripping from his mouth. “Where’s your boy?” He asks instead, trying to deflect.
“Bathroom,” Nile says. She says something else, but Joe is thoroughly distracted; Nicky has looked up from the drink he’s been nursing for at least the past hour, and his eyes have caught Joe’s. His wide eyes blink once, twice, and then dip back down to his glass, a small, shy smile on his lips. Joe’s heart almost stops at the sight of it and he thinks he would give anything to see it again. Anything.
But then Nicky looks back up, and Joe can’t help it, he grins widely back. Nicky blinks at him again, and his little smile twitches just that much brighter, and Joe thinks that’s it, he’s found it; salvation in the curve of another man’s lips. He could wax poetic about Nicky’s smile until he was dead and cold in his grave, and even then, his ghost would sing praises of the beauty of that tiny, warm grin until the similarly dead would bid him to rise to life again, just so they could get a moment’s peace.
A hand waves in front of his face. “Hellooo?” Nile sings. “You in there?”
Their connection is broken. Joe looks back at Nile, a little flabbergasted and more than half in love with someone he’s never even spoken to. She sees the look on his face and says, “oh, no. Who is it this time?” She follows his gaze and sees Nicky, chatting with Quynh at the bar. “Nicky,” she says, voice careful.
“Do you know him?” He asks, thirsty for any information.
“Yeah,” she says. “He’s really sweet. But, uh, you’re going to have to ask Andy and Quynh and probably Booker for permission if you want to approach him. He’s under their protection.”
“Why?” He asks, curious. Surely, someone couldn’t have hurt that gorgeous man.
Nile bites her lip. “Not my story to tell,” she says.
Joe looks back to Nicky, and spots Quynh staring at him. When she sees him she narrows her eyes at him, and he grins brightly back at her. She huffs and goes back to talking to Nicky, but there’s a small smile on her face.
Throughout the rest of the night, Joe doesn’t approach, but when he looks over, he thinks he sees Nicky looking away from him every time, that small, shy smile back on his lips.
~~~
Joe visits The Old Guard like clockwork now. Sometimes with Nile, sometimes without, but he never goes home with someone, and if he ventures into the back rooms, it’s to watch, and not join in. Mostly he dances and chats and watches the floor shows, but above all, he watches Nicky.
The other man seems to gain more confidence over the few weeks that Joe observes him. He gets out on the dancefloor a few times, usually with Booker or Quynh (Andy is not much for dancing), and Joe has seen him chat with some other men. But he too, never seems to leave the club with anyone other than his friends.
Strangely enough, even though they have people in common, Nicky and Joe never meet. It’s almost like they’re circling one another, eyes meeting and smiles exchanging, but Joe is still unsure of his welcome, and Nicky seems perfectly happy keeping his distance. Joe almost asks Andy and Quynh for permission to approach Nicky, but something stops him. They’ll come to him, he thinks, if Nicky is interested. It might err too far on the side of caution, but from what Nile has told him, Nicky has been hurt, enough that he has protection from the club owners, and Joe would rather cut off his own limbs than cause Nicky any distress for an approach that isn’t welcome yet. Joe is a patient man. He’ll wait, and if Andy or Quynh never come to speak to him, then he’ll accept it.
And then, one night as he leans against the bar as he waits for the bartender, someone comes to stand beside him. Joe idly looks to see who it is and his heart skips a beat, and then two. Nicky stands next to him, brushing his hair behind his ear, a little nervous smile on his lips. “Hello,” he says, just loud enough to be heard over the music. He has an accent, Italian, Joe’s half functioning brain supplies, and the sound of just that one word could possibly bring Joe to his knees.
He thinks he gaps, for a second, like a fish out of water, before he gains his composure, clearing his throat quietly. “Hey,” he says, and then hides a cringe. Is that it? What has happened to his usually wide and lush vocabulary? Hey? Really? But he had not been prepared for the possibility of Nicky approaching him himself; he’d been waiting on Andy or Quynh. He’s been caught off guard, but he’s not unhappy about it. Not at all.
“I’m Nicky,” Nicky says, like Joe isn’t half in love with him already.
“I know,” Joe replies, turning to face him properly. “I’m Joe.”
“I know,” Nicky says, and he ducks his head a little, his lips upturned slightly at the sides in mirth.
Joe laughs brightly. “We have some friends in common.”
“Yes, we do,” Nicky says. Joe takes a moment to look at him, eyes roving over Nicky’s face. Lovely, wide eyes, a strong nose, generous pink lips and a beauty spot to the side of them that Joe just wants to press his lips against. Now that they’re standing side by side, Joe realises that Nicky is only slightly shorter than him, maybe only by an inch or so, with appealing broad shoulders and a slender waist. Even more beautiful up close, Joe thinks, internally sighing like a lovesick loon.
“It’s nice to finally meet you,” Joe says, in lieu of actually sighing like a lovesick loon. The statement is a bit of an understatement, but, well, he doesn’t want to come off like some crazy overenthusiastic stalker or something.
“It is nice,” Nicky replies, and that shy little smile is back. “It is a wonder, that we have so many friends in common, but that we have never spoken, yes?”
“A wonder,” Joe says, but what he wants to say is you’re a wonder. “Well, actually, to be completely honest I was expecting Andy or Quynh to let me know that I could talk to you.”
Something flashes in Nicky’s wonderful eyes, too quick for Joe to pinpoint the exact emotion. “They’re very protective,” he says, “but I do not need them to do all my introductions. But thank you, for waiting.” He dips his gaze then, and this time Joe can recognise the emotion—shame?
Nicky should not be ashamed that he had made Joe wait. Joe had waited entirely on his own accord. “You don’t need to thank me,” Joe says ardently, “Nile told me—well, she just let me know that maybe I should hold off asking if you would like to go to dinner with me until I knew the question would be welcomed.” And then he thinks, no, shit, is that too forward?
Surprise, now, in those grey-blue eyes. Joe can’t wait to see them in the light of day; they’re gorgeous now in the dim lighting, but illuminated in sunshine, Joe is sure that they are going to be devastating.
“Dinner?”
“Yes, or lunch, or breakfast, or afternoon tea. Or coffee. Anything.” Wow, Joe, desperate enough?
But Nicky doesn’t look like he minds. “...Dinner would be nice,” he says, something dawning in his expression. Relief, maybe, and a warmth that makes Joe’s fingertips tingle pleasantly.
Joe beams. “Great! When would be good for you? I’m free most of this week, except for Tuesdays. Tuesdays are reserved for the weekly zoom family torture session.”
“I would not want to interfere with those,” Nicky says, and his smile grows a little wider. “I am free tomorrow night. If that is not too soon?”
“No, not too soon at all,” Joe says very earnestly. Not too earnestly, he hopes. But then, he thinks, fuck it, I’m excited to be going to dinner with him, and I want him to know it. “What kind of food do you like?”
Nicky shrugs, and like all his movements, it’s understated, like he doesn’t want to draw attention to his body. “I like most things.”
“Malaysian?”
“I like Malaysian.”
Joe’s grin widens. “Great. Give me your number and I’ll text you the place. Is seven okay?”
“Seven is good.” Nicky accepts Joe’s phone and quickly taps in his number before handing it back. Joe saves it under Nicky, feeling a little giddy. And then the bartender finally shows up, and Nicky and Joe order their drinks, a gin and tonic and a non alcoholic ginger beer respectively, and receive their orders quickly.
“See you tomorrow night,” Joe says.
“Yes,” Nicky replies, smiling. He looks pleased. “See you tomorrow night.” And then he walks back to the booth Andy and Quynh are sitting in, Booker draped over their laps. Joe watches him go, and sees the wide, proud smile that Quynh gives Nicky as he slides in with them.
~~~
Joe wears his favourite leather jacket and his tight slacks that make his butt look good. He’s a little nervous as he leaves his apartment, but in the Uber, he realises that he’s more excited than nervous. The butterflies in his stomach feel bright, exuberant, fluttering in his belly like everscent bubbles in champagne. Nicky, he thinks, looking out the window and listening to the quiet music of the radio, Nicky.
He’s early, so he stands outside the restaurant, leaning against the brick and looking at his phone, enjoying the brisk spring air. Footsteps approach and he looks up, and a big grin graces his face as he spots Nicky.
The other man is dressed casually in a soft white shirt, dark jeans and a canvas jacket. Silver earrings glint at his earlobes and he smiles that familiar small smile when he sees Joe waiting.
Allah, so help me, this man is devastating, Joe thinks. “You’re early,” he says, his smile taking the bite out of the words.
“So are you,” Nicky says.
“You got me there,” Joe winks, and he’s thoroughly charmed when a pink blush touches Nicky’s cheeks. “Shall we?” He asks, pointing over his shoulder with his thumb at the door of the restaurant.
Nicky inclines his head, and they enter the restaurant. Inside is cramped and busy, and smells strongly of spice. It’s one of Joe’s favourite restaurants, cosy, with friendly and fast service, and delicious food. For a moment he’d considered changing the restaurant to somewhere fancier, but that’s not him, and he hadn’t wanted to give off a different impression. He wants Nicky to be able to get a feel for him.
He’d called ahead, and asked for a specific table, so they get seated in a slightly quieter corner. It’s intimate, and when they sit, their feet are only inches apart.
“I’ve never been here before,” Nicky says, looking up from the menu under his eyelashes at Joe. Shy, but willing to talk.
“On the first night I moved here Nile dragged me out to this place,” Joe says. “I was dead tired from driving fifteen hours straight and my apartment was a mess of unlabelled boxes and I needed to get ready for an interview the next morning, but the food here made me feel like a real human again.”
Nicky gives a quiet laugh. “Then do you have a recommendation?”
Joe grins widely. “Definitely.”
They chat about the menu, and order when the waitress comes over. For drinks Joe gets a non-alcoholic ginger beer and Nicky gets a soda; Joe’s not sure if it’s to match him, or if he wants to stay sober if this turns into something more. Joe’s stomach clenches hot at the thought, but he doesn’t linger on it. What happens will happen.
Conversation carries on from there. It’s smooth and friendly, and Joe finds himself laughing more than not. Nicky’s soft spoken, yes, but he’s quick, and sincere, and so sweet that Joe kind of wants to proclaim that he will protect Nicky at all costs, and if anyone ever hurts him, he will kill that person, and then himself. (He might have been watching too much Brooklyn 99, so sue him.)
“So, Nicky, is that short for something?” Joe asks in a not uncomfortable lull in conversation. “Nicolas?”
“Nicolo,” Nicky says, “Nicolo di Genova.”
“Nicolo.” Joe rolls the name around in his mouth, tasting the syllables. He finds that he likes it. Nicky’s cheeks flush red, and it’s probably not from the spice in his Nasi Lemak.
“And Joe? Is that short for something?”
“Ah, Yusuf, but everyone calls me Joe. Yusuf al-Kaysani.”
“Yusuf,” Nicky says, thoughtfully. Joe likes that sound of his name in Nicky’s mouth, accented softly with his Italian lilt. He wants to hear it again, possibly in a more intimate situation. Don’t get ahead of yourself, he scolds internally.
“Do you speak Arabic?”
“Yes,” Joe says in Arabic, “I’ve been kept fluent by my family back in Tunisia.” Nicky’s eyes go wide in pleasure, and then Joe switches to Italian. A bit of a flex, but if you’ve got it, you should flaunt it. And he wants to impress Nicky. “Do you speak any?”
Nicky smiles joyfully, surprised. It’s so beautiful that Joe would’ve choked on any food if he had any in his mouth. Thankfully, he doesn’t. “Not any Arabic, sadly, no,” Nicky replies in the same language. “You speak Italian?”
“Conversational,” Joe explains, and then switches back into English. “I like languages. It started off as learning Spanish in high school, and then became a bit of an obsession in college. For an art history major, I spent a lot of time in the language department.”
“What else do you speak?”
“Well, Spanish, French, Dutch, a smattering of Mandarin and Greek.”
Nicky looks impressed. “How do you fit all of that in your brain? Just Italian and English gives me a headache.”
Joe shrugs, modest. “My sister says it’s because I don’t have space for anything else in there.”
Nicky laughs softly. “I doubt that.”
“Tell that to Nile. Her and my sister are always ganging up and bullying me.”
“Poor you,” Nicky says, and his lovely eyes are laughing.
Joe sighs dramatically. “Yes, poor me. I live a life full of torment.”
Their mains get cleared away and they linger over the last of their drinks, chatting. They’ve taken enough time with their food that the rest of the restaurant has quietened down, the normal dinner rush over. Beneath their table their feet are pressed together, side by side, gently affectionate. Joe’s stomach glows with the contact.
At some point though, they realise that the restaurant is beginning to empty out, and they ask for the cheque. Neither of them want to be those people, holding up the wait staff from closing up and heading home. They split the bill evenly after some good natured arguing over who will cover their meals, and then head out. It’s colder than before, and Joe zips his jacket up; Nicky wraps his coat around himself, and his nose quickly gains a flush. Joe fights the urge to pull him to his side with an arm to keep him warm—he doesn’t want to be overly familiar.
“Where do you live?” Joe asks.
“Close by.”
“May I walk you home?” Joe asks, and Nicky ducks his head, pleased.
“You do not have to.”
“Mmm, but I want to.”
Nicky lives a ten minute walk away, in a little apartment complex next to a park. They come to a stop outside his door. Nicky touches his doorknob, then drops his hand and turns to Joe.
“I had a very good night tonight,” he says. “The food was good, and the company even better.” He looks at Joe as he says it, sincere, and then his gaze veers off, possibly embarrassed by his sincerity. “Thank you.”
“I think saying I had a good time tonight would be an understatement,” Joe says, “I think it’s possibly the best dinner I’ve had in a long while, not even including the food.”
Nicky shifts, his back to his door. “Would you like to come in?” He asks, fingering his keys nervously.
Joe watches his hand for a second, and then searches his face. “Do you want me to come in?” He asks carefully.
“I—,” Nicky starts, and then stops. Instead of answering, he says quietly, “I did not expect you to ask me to dinner.”
Joe’s eyebrows lift. “Why not?”
“People usually ask in The Old Guard if I would like to leave with them, or go into the dungeons. They do not ask if I want to share a meal with them.”
“Well, they’re missing out,” Joe says. He doesn’t just want to get into bed with Nicky, or on a table, or up against a wall or even on the ground, he wants to get to know him as well. All of him. If Nicky wants that. Sure, they met at a kink club, but it doesn’t mean that all they can do is fuck. That would be a crime, Joe thinks, to only want Nicky for his body, even if said body is very lovely.
“Would you like to do this again? Dinner, I mean.”
Nicky smiles, and nods. “Yes. I would like that very much.”
Joe can’t help but reach forward for Nicky’s hand. Nicky doesn’t flinch, and his palm is warm and dry as Joe grips it gently. It might be overly romantic, but Joe knows who he is and he wants Nicky to know too, and he lifts Nicky’s hand to lay a kiss against his knuckles. Nicky goes a pretty shade of pink, his eyes wide. His skin is soft against Joe’s lips.
Joe smiles in what he hopes is a charming way. He can be suave when he wants to, he thinks (hopes). “I’ll text you.”
Nicky nods, seemingly lost for words. Joe lets his touch linger, and then drops Nicky’s hand. His skin tingles from the lost contact. He steps back, and turns to leave.
“Joe, wait.” Joe pivots, and catches a glimpse of Nicky’s determined expression before Nicky cups his face in his hands, leans forward, and kisses him.
Joe goes stiff with surprise, only for a split second, and his mind goes completely blank, fireworks sparking off instead of thoughts. Nicky’s lips are warm, and slightly damp; he must’ve just licked them. He smells like spice, and the sweetness of roti, the clean scent of his cologne layered underneath. Joe lifts his hand to cup the back of Nicky’s neck, his other gently touching Nicky’s hip, and tilts his head for a better angle to kiss back. Nicky makes a quiet sound that goes straight to Joe’s lower stomach as Joe sucks his lower lip, and then dips his tongue into Nicky’s mouth.
Nicky tastes like coconut rice and peanuts and chilli. Joe grasps the back of his neck tighter, fingers tangled in the softness of Nicky’s hair, unwilling to let Nicky go. He can feel Nicky relax under his touch, melting into him. One of Nicky’s hands slips from his cheek to his neck and then shoulder, and Nicky makes another sound as he bumps up against the door behind him. At some point Joe had taken a step forward and Nicky had followed his lead, letting Joe press him up against the door.
Joe could kiss Nicky for eternity. But at some point they must part; neither of them know who pulls away first, and their lips disconnect slowly, like they are both reluctant to move too far away. Their foreheads press together, and they share each other’s air. Joe thinks if lightning struck the ground next to them, he would not notice. There is another entire world in Nicky’s ocean-grey gaze, one far more tempting that the one Joe currently occupies. He wants to lose himself in those lovely eyes.
“That is a proper goodbye kiss,” Nicky says, breathless, his grey-blue eyes sparkling. The skin around his lips is slightly irritated from Joe’s beard.
“Thanks for the lesson,” Joe says, smiling fondly, his voice low and raspy. He feels the shiver that runs through Nicky’s body, and he can’t help pressing another chaste kiss against the corner of Nicky’s lips, and then his beauty spot. Nicky’s breath hitches at each one. “I’ll keep it in mind for next time.”
“Mmm,” Nicky hums, “please do.” They stay like that, for a moment, heads pressed together, sharing each other’s body heat, before Joe steps away. He immediately misses Nicky’s body against his, the scent of him.
“Good night, Nicky,” he says.
“Good night, Joe.”
~~~
“You kissed? That’s it?” Nile exclaims, looking almost offended. “You’ve been eyefucking each other from across the bar for weeks and all you do is kiss?”
“Nile,” Joe hisses, looking around at their coworkers, who, thankfully, all seem to be oblivious. They’re probably very used to Nile and Joe fucking around that no one bats an eyelash.
Nile doesn’t look ashamed one bit. “You go on a date with a boy like that, you get him in bed, you tie him up in lovely blue ropes and you keep him there,” she sniffs.
“Well, I’m planning on that,” Joe says. “But, you know me, I want to take it slow. Not everyone can be like you, rolling in and out of beds.”
Nile rolls her eyes. “You’re disgustingly romantic.” She seems to take it in stride that he’s not just after Nicky for a quick scene, but then again, Nile has known him for a while, and his romantic habits. Sure, Joe’s had his share of one night stands and casual Domming, but he’s always looking out for more if there’s something there. And there’s definitely something there with Nicky. They don’t even have to get kinky. They don’t have to do anything, if Nicky isn’t ready. A shadow of anger flits across Joe’s thoughts when he remembers that someone has hurt Nicky, but it dies down quickly. Now’s not the time.
“I think he likes it,” Joe sighs happily, looking off into the distance outside the window, thinking of Nicky’s blush when Joe had kissed the back of his hand.
“You two are going to be gross,” Nile says, scrunching her nose up. But her eyes are laughing.
“Oh, I hope so,” Joe says, winking, and Nile throws her rubber-band ball at him.
~~~
They go for a few more dinner dates together, always ending the night with a kiss. One night they’re even at The Old Guard together, and Nicky sticks close to Joe’s side, snuggled up close next to him as they watch Andy skillfully take Booker apart in a floor show. It could be weird, when their dating life is rather chaste, watching a BDSM floor show together consisting of their friends, but it somehow isn’t. And then when Andy joins them in their booth, Booker blissed out on dopamine at her feet, and Nile and Quynh show up, the group of them talking together over drinks, it feels right.
Then, one night is dinner at Nicky’s. Joe turns up early and they make homemade potato gnocchi together, laughing as they get flour everywhere as they work the dough. Nicky fries them in browned butter and sage, and the rich smell fills his apartment. They eat on Nicky’s couch in his open plan living room, chatting idly, and somehow, inevitably, their plates end up on the coffee table and Nicky in Joe’s lap.
Nicky is a warm, welcomed weight straddled over Joe’s thighs. His palms rest against Joe’s chest as he slides his lips over Joe’s, humming happily. Joe has one hand in Nicky’s hair, the other around Nicky’s slim waist on top of his shirt. They’re smiling as they’re kissing, and Joe’s thumb is stroking slowly against Nicky’s side.
“I like your beard,” Nicky whispers in between kisses.
Joe huffs a laugh. “Yeah?”
“Mhhmm,” Nicky says, chasing his mouth. “It’s very hot.”
“You’re very hot,” Joe says back, capturing Nicky’s lips again as Nicky snorts. Nicky presses closer, his hips slotting against Joe’s, and both of their breaths hitch. Nicky pulls back a little, flushed, and bites his slick lower lip.
“Joe,” he whispers, eyes half-lidded and liquid.
Joe swears and tips Nicky sideways, spilling him over the couch cushions. He slots himself between Nicky’s thighs and leans over him, breathing hard—not in exertion, but in desire. “Is this okay?” He asks.
Nicky’s thighs come up to bracket his hips. “Very okay,” he says. Joe leans down and kisses him again. They’ve shared many kisses, but this is the most heated, mouths slick as they meet again and again, Joe’s beard brushing against Nicky’s clean shaven skin, Nicky making these little gasping sounds that make Joe want to keep Nicky under him like this forever, flushed and gorgeous and messy haired, his lips swollen and t-shirt riding up his belly.
And then Joe takes hold of Nicky’s wrist and pins it beside his head, and Nicky flinches. His body, once languid and loose underneath Joe’s, goes stiff. Joe lets go immediately, backing off, blood running cold.
“Shit, sorry, sorry,” he says, guilt filling his heart. He’d gotten carried away. He can’t believe he’d gotten carried away.
Nicky sits up, pale and frowning and reaching for him as Joe moves away. “Joe,” he says quickly, “don’t apologise, it was me—”
“Don’t say that,” Joe says, firmly, still breathless from their kisses, “it’s not your fault.”
Nicky goes silent, watching him. Then he dips his eyes to his lap, tangling his fingers together. “I didn’t want to ruin this,” he whispers.
Joe moves forward, reaching out, unable to stop himself from wanting to comfort. “You didn’t. Not at all. I should’ve been more careful.”
Nicky runs his long fingers through his hair. “I don’t want you to need to be careful,” he says, frustrated. He closes his eyes and Joe carefully touches his forearm, and Nicky lets out a breath. “I thought I was over it. I’m sorry. And you were going so—dumb slow, is that the phrase? For me.”
“Stupid slow,” Joe offers. “And don’t be sorry, Nicky. Never about something like this. I want to go slow. I’m an old romantic at heart.”
“I see the way you look at me,” Nicky says. “You want me, I am not blind. But I am like, like this,” he says, gesturing to himself, “broken—”
“No,” Joe says firmly. “You’re not broken. Nicky, look at me, you’re not. Somebody hurt you, someone who I hope has been shown the error of their ways very, very firmly, and you may be wounded, and it may take time, but you’ll heal.”
“I want it to be done now.” It’s heartbreaking, Nicky’s expression. Impatience, and frustration, his eyes shimmering with tears. “I want you, now.”
Joe cups Nicky’s cheek. “You can’t rush these things, my heart. I’ll happily wait. And if you’re never ready to do anything other than kiss, then that’s fine too.”
“Don’t say that,” Nicky says, and his eyes are wetter. “Don’t just—settle.”
“I’m not settling,” Joe says, “if anything, you’re the one settling for me.”
Nicky huffs an incredulous laugh. “Joe, what do you mean? You are perfect.”
Joe grins. “Thanks, but you can’ use my ego to change the subject. Nicky, I don’t need kinky sex, or any sex, to be in love with someone. Sure, it’s a bonus, a great bonus, but a relationship is not just fucking.”
Nicky blinks, shellshocked. “...You’re in love with me?”
“Very much so,” Joe says, “ridiculously so. So much so that I go to sleep dreaming of you and I wake up thinking of you. I look at the sun and the stars and think they do not shine as brightly as you, I look at the moon and think how pale it is in comparison to your loveliness, and I cannot believe the gall that they have daring to show themselves while you are in existence. I don’t need them. You light up my world, Nicolo. Just you.”
Nicky stares at him like he’s not quite sure what to do.
“Too much?” Joe asks, a little sheepish. He gets passionate, okay? And it might be too fast, for love confessions, but it’s the truth.
“No,” Nicky whispers, “not at all.” His eyes are still wet, but this time with another emotion. He leans forward and presses his lips against Joe’s, sweetly, softly. “I love you too,” he says, like a secret against Joe’s mouth, like a prayer.
~~~
They clean the dishes, and then watch a movie, cuddled up on the couch, a comfy blanket over their laps. Nicky makes buttered popcorn and sits the bowl on Joe’s lap, their fingers brushing up against each other as they reach into it, and Joe delights in feeding Nicky a few pieces. The movie ends, and not ready yet to part, Nicky starts another movie.
Nicky falls asleep an hour in, nuzzled into the juncture of Joe’s neck and shoulder, breath slow and steady. Joe carefully reaches for the remote and turns off the television, and maneuvers around to gather Nicky up in his arms. The other man stirs, blinking hazy eyes open, sees that it’s Joe and doesn’t protest, instead burying his face into Joe’s shoulder, grumbling as Joe hefts him up.
Joe’s heart kind of feels like it’s going to burst, overwhelmed with affection. He carries Nicky down the hall to where he assumes Nicky’s bedroom is and deposits him gently down on the bed. Nicky isn’t wearing any shoes, so Joe doesn’t need to take them off, but he’s wearing jeans. Joe figures Nicky wouldn’t be comfortable with him stripping him just yet, so he just pulls the duvet up over Nicky’s form, the man curling up and mumbling into his pillow.
Joe leans down and presses a kiss against Nicky’s forehead. He pulls back, and halts when he realises that Nicky’s fingers are tangled in his shirt.
“Stay,” Nicky says in Italian, his blue-grey eyes sleepy and half aware as they look up at Joe. “Please?”
Joe finds he can’t deny Nicky anything. He quickly strips out of his own pants but leaves his shirt and underwear on, and slips under the duvet beside Nicky. Nicky wiggles backwards, his back flush against Joe’s chest, and sighs happily as Joe wraps him up in his arms.
“Sweet dreams, my love,” Joe says, but Nicky is already asleep.
~~~
It’s the smell of coffee in the morning that wakes Joe. He sits up, disorientated, looking around the unfamiliar room. The curtains are still closed, but early sunlight peaks through the gap in the fabric, and he can hear sounds of someone down the hall. Nicky, Joe thinks, and looks to his side. He places his hand on the dent in the sheets next to him; still slightly warm to the touch. He smiles.
When he gets up he locates his pants and pulls them on clumsily, rubbing at one of his eyes and fighting the urge to just go back to bed. He does not like waking in the morning. He goes out the door in search of his two loves; coffee, and Nicky.
Nicky’s in the kitchen, standing at the counter as he stirs a mug. Joe comes up behind him, feet padding against the cheap linoleum, and drapes himself over Nicky’s back. “Hello,” he says in Italian, burying his nose into Nicky’s adorable bed hair and inhaling the scent of him.
“Good morning,” Nicky replies, and Joe can hear the smile in his voice. “Coffee?” He asks, in English.
“Yes please,” Joe groans, refusing the let go of Nicky as the man maneuvers around the kitchen, getting milk and sugar for him. He remains glued to Nicky’s back like a limpet, dragging his feet and grumbling as his love moves around.
“Not a morning person?” Nicky asks, amused.
“I don’t know the meaning of this phrase, morning person,” Joe says. “It sounds terrible, like a disease.”
Nicky laughs softly. He takes Joe’s hand from around his waist and wraps it around the handle of a mug. “Here.”
Joe brings it up to his nose and takes a deep breath. “Have I told you I love you yet?”
“Not today,” Nicky murmurs, looking over his shoulder. His eyes are soft in the morning light coming through the kitchen window, his eyelashes thick and golden around the edges.
“I love you,” Joe says, simply, but with no less feeling than last night. Nicky smiles, and kisses him. He tastes like coffee.
They move to the small breakfast bar, perching on wooden stools as they sip their coffee. While Joe’s is milky and sweet, Nicky’s is dark. Joe makes a face at it and Nicky laughs at him. It’s a quiet, affectionate morning, and Joe hopes that there will be many more like this.
Nicky drains the last of his coffee, and places it down. Joe watches as he traces the lip of the mug, sighing.
More awake now after his caffeine hit, Joe leans closer. “Something wrong?” He asks, worried. Has he overstayed his welcome?
Nicky hums. “You’ve been very patient with me,” he says softly.
“Nicky—,” Joe starts, but Nicky shakes his head, pleading with his eyes.
“You should know why,” he continues, looking resigned. Joe’s heart lurches and he reaches out to take Nicky’s hand, brings it to his lips.
“You don’t need to tell me if you don’t want to,” Joe says sincerely against his knuckles. “You don’t owe me anything, dearest. Nothing at all.”
“I know,” Nicky murmurs, still not meeting Joe’s eyes. “But I want to tell you. I should tell you. It’s not fair, otherwise.”
Again, Joe starts to protest, but Nicky shakes his head. “Let me?” He asks. “I think I need to.”
Joe lets out a breath, dropping Nicky’s and his joined hands into his lap. “Of course. If you’re sure.” His chest aches at the look on Nicky’s face. He wants to kiss it away, wrap Nicky up in his arms, and never let go. But he doesn’t. If Nicky wants to tell him, then he will listen.
Nicky licks his lips nervously. “I do not know how to start, now,” he says, a little choked. Joe just waits for Nicky to compose himself, his thumb stroking the silk smooth skin on the back of Nicky’s hand.
Nicky takes a deep breath, and calms. “We met at The Old Guard around a year ago,” he begins, still looking down where their hands are joined. “I was new, just starting out as a submissive. Andy and Quynh, they were very helpful in guiding me, but they have the club to run, and Booker, and he is—a handful, in their own words,” he says, mouth quirked. “And I like men. So I struck out on my own, and met some lovely people, and then I met him. He was my first Dom that I let into my bedroom.”
Joe tries to not let any negative emotion play out on his face, trying to appear open and composed to not affect Nicky, even though he wants to wrap his hands around something and shake. How could someone make someone like Nicky, sweet, sincere, soft-spoken Nicky, sound like this?
“He was nice, at first. Perfect, almost,” Nicky says, a little sardonically. “He spoiled me, and I liked it. And he was very good with me in bed. I—ah, liked to be manhandled,” he says, flushing, “and he was strong, and knew how to restrain me.” He lets out a shaky breath. “I liked to be able to say no,” he says, quieter, almost ashamed, “and for him to ignore it and still take me. We had a safeword, of course,” he hurries to say. “We had a safeword,” he says again, slower.
Joe thinks he knows where this is going, and a cold, raging fury is building in his stomach.
“I liked to be hurt, but sometimes, sometimes it was a lot. Too much. He started to be—mean. And pushy. There were some things I didn’t want to do, but he always told me I should try, with him, that he could change my mind, that I would like it. Sometimes I gave in, and sometimes it was good, other times—” He trails off. “I knew something was wrong, but I—he always stopped when I used our safeword. I didn’t like to use it, because he would be disappointed after, but I used it when I had to.”
“I didn’t want to be choked,” Nicky says, a far off look in his eyes. “But Keane, it was almost like the more I said no, the more he wanted to do it. He said I was being selfish, that he did everything that I wanted to do, but this one little thing I could not give him? And I thought that he had a point, that I was being selfish, so I—I let him.” Nicky lets out a shaky breath, his gaze shadowed. “It was awful,” he whispers. “But he was so happy.”
Joe wants to find this Keane, and wring the life out of him.
“And once I’d let him choke me, it seemed everything else that I had said no to was...fair game. It didn’t seem like such a big thing, after he’d choked me, to let him do other things that I hated. He even talked me into doing a floor show.” Nicky’s breath hitches at those words, his hand trembling in Joe’s. Joe takes his hand in both of his, trying to ground him, to give at least some comfort. “But I… I couldn’t do it. Out of everything, I couldn’t do that. I safeworded out half way through and it humiliated him. He took me home, and—,” his voice chokes off.
“Nicky,” Joe murmurs, heartbroken.
Nicky shakes his head, wiping at his eyes with the hand Joe’s not holding. “He forced me,” he says, voice strained, and Joe’s world narrows down to those two words that he’d never wanted to hear coming from Nicky. Nicky didn’t deserve that, never that, and he’s devastated that Nicky knows this pain. “He tied me and held me down and—I safeworded, but he kept going.” Nicky tries to wipe away more tears, but they’re coming faster than he can dash them away. “Afterwards, he said he didn’t stop because I liked—I liked it, that he knew I wanted it,” Nicky’s words now are interspersed with little gasps as he tries to catch his breath. “And the worst thing was that I did—I came and I—I just couldn’t—” He breaks off, trying to turn from Joe, but Joe cups his flushed, tear stained cheek, refusing to let Nicky hide in shame.
“Nicky, you said no. You didn’t like it just because he made you orgasm, it’s a biological reaction, you couldn’t help it. He did something horrible, my heart, your body reacting to it in a way you didn’t want doesn’t excuse what he did. You said no.” Joe’s eyes burn with tears of conviction.
Nicky leans into Joe’s hand, his eyes squeezed shut. He’s holding onto Joe’s other hand like a lifeline, his grip tight and shaky. He cries quietly, holding back the worst of his sobs like he can’t bear the thought of making too much noise, like his distress would burden the world, and Joe would do anything to take Nicky’s pain away. Anything.
Joe carefully reels Nicky in, and Nicky goes willingly, collapsing against his chest and hiding his face in Joe’s neck. His body trembles with sobs and Joe just holds him, pressing kisses into the top of his head and stroking his back, a deep well of sadness and pain inside of him at the sounds of Nicky’s anguish. After a while Nicky’s crying begins to calm, and Joe maneuvers them to the couch so they’re more comfortable. He lies back against the high armrest, Nicky held safe and secure between his legs and in his arms, curled up and hiccuping into his chest. Joe’s shirt is uncomfortably damp from Nicky’s tears but it’s an infinitely small price to pay to have Nicky take solace in his embrace.
“I know it was just a biological reaction,” Nicky finally says finally, voice hoarse and stretched. “But I still—no matter how many times I tell myself, I still feel shame.”
Joe kisses the top of Nicky’s head for possibly the hundredth time, but it still isn’t enough. It never will be. Tears blur his own eyes. He wants to tell Nicky that he shouldn’t feel ashamed, but that’s not going to help, because Nicky does and Joe telling him not to won’t change that. He hugs Nicky tighter. “You are so strong, my love. I know you will overcome anything.”
Nicky sighs, but it’s not one of resignation. He snuggles closer. The words seem to come easier now. “When Andy and Quynh found out that I’d done a floor show, they called and called me, and when I didn’t pick up they came over to my apartment and kicked my door in. They knew I would never do one willingly. When they saw what he had done to me... I’ve never seen them so angry. They tried to get me to go to the hospital, but I refused. I didn’t want anyone to see me like that.”
Nicky had been hurt so bad that he’d needed to go to the hospital?
“They tried to get me to go to the police too, but I knew, and I think they did too, that the police would take one look at what Keane and I had done in bed and dismiss it. But Andy and Quynh banned Keane from the club, and every other place they had connections with, and I think they might’ve found out where he lived and… put the fear of God into him, because he never tried to contact me again.”
Joe hopes they did more than put the fear of God into him. Joe hopes that they spat on his corpse and put him in a shallow grave for him to rot and his bones be scattered by animals. Maybe a bit too violent, but Joe doesn’t think there could be a punishment that could atone for what this Keane had done. And he’d always had a bit of a vindictive streak.
“They were so guilty, too,” Nicky murmurs, sounding tired. “Andy and Quynh and Booker. For not realising what had been happening. I keep trying to tell them that I don’t blame them, not at all, that it was my fault for not leaving him.” He sighs. “They were so good to me. They are too good to me. I thank them everyday for what they’ve done for me. They supported me through what was one of the worst times of my life.”
That’s just like Nicky, thinking about others when he should be thinking about himself. Too good for this world, Joe thinks, and certainly too good for me, but I’m selfish. “They love you, Nicky. And it was not your fault for not leaving him.”
“My therapist keeps telling me,” Nicky mumbles. He rubs his face into Joe’s chest, and then pulls away, aghast. “I’m sorry, I got your shirt dirty.”
Joe thumbs away a tear from his own eye, sitting up a bit. “It’s just a shirt,” he says. “Contrary to what my mother says, I can do laundry.”
“I’ll get you another to wear,” Nicky says, getting up from the couch. Joe keeps a gentle hold of Nicky’s hand, and halts him from walking too far away.
“Thank you for telling me,” Joe says, skimming his thumb over Nicky’s knuckles. “I can tell it took a great deal of courage.”
Nicky's smile is a little watery, his eyes red and swollen. But he’s still the most beautiful sight Joe has seen in his life. “And a great deal of snot.”
Joe huffs a laugh and stands, cupping Nicky’s precious face in his hands. “You are amazing,” he says, dotting affectionate kisses over Nicky’s cheeks and nose, his damp eyelashes. “A treasure. Keane didn’t know what he had. I am terribly angry at him, for what he did to you, and I hope Andy and Quynh beat the shit out of him, but I pity him as well, to be so blind.”
“He doesn’t deserve your pity,” Nicky says, clinging to Joe’s forearms. “He was an asshole.”
“Mmm, you’re right,” Joe says, “I will reserve every space in my heart capable of feeling for loving you instead.”
Nicky laughs suddenly, a rough sound of both relief and disbelief and surprised happiness. It’s gorgeous, he’s gorgeous, and Joe’s chest clenches tight with a bittersweet ache that comes with the depth of feeling that he has for this other man.
When they kiss, Nicky tangles his hands in Joe’s shirt, over his heart. When Joe rests his hands on Nicky’s shoulders, there’s an absence of tension that Joe hadn’t even realised was there before. And when they pull apart, they cannot go far, foreheads pressed together, Joe’s fingers tenderly brushing away the remnants of Nicky’s tears. For the rest of the day Nicky periodically naps, emotionally exhausted, and Joe keeps watch over him, never far away when Nicky reaches for him.
~~~
Quynh invites them to dinner one night. Andy and Booker and Nile are there, and it’s almost too easy, them all sitting around Andy and Quynh’s dinner table, a little squished, elbows knocking up against each other’s as they pass around dishes. It’s a potluck, a strange mix of Vietnamese, Italian, French and Tunisian, but it works. Nile brings apple pie and ice cream for dessert, and her and Andy fight over the last piece with their forks, eyes glaring daggers into each other. Nile wins, somehow, but Joe’s pretty sure it’s because Andy lets her.
Afterwards, they all crash on the comfortable leather couches in Quynh and Andy’s living room, drowsy and full of good food. Booker nurses a whiskey, and Nile and Nicky both have red wine. Quynh drinks cider, and Andy just drinks whatever is in reach, and steals mouthfuls out of Booker’s glass, to his chagrin. The frenchman has a day collar on, a slim metal necklace that suits him, and both Quynh and Andy are very affectionate towards him as he sits between them. Joe sticks with sparkling water and just watches everyone interact, wondering how he’s only been in this city less than a year, and he’s somehow ended up with another family.
He excuses himself to the bathroom, and when he comes back, Andy is waiting in the hallway, leaning against the wall. She takes a sip out of what looks like Booker’s glass, looking at him over it as Joe pauses. Behind her, he can hear the sounds of Quynh and Booker shouting at the soccer game playing on television, and Nile and Nicky’s laughter and conversation.
“Hey, Boss, what’s up?” Joe asks.
“I don’t have to give you the talk, do I?” Andy asks, one slim eyebrow arched.
For a second Joe wonders if he should be offended, that he could ever even think about harming a hair on Nicky’s head, but the second of anger simmering fades just as quickly as it had come into existence. He knows how close Andy is to Nicky, and how protective she is. It’s not just from being his Domme once in a while, either. “You don’t have to give me the talk,” he confirms. “I’m more likely to throw myself out of a window than do anything Nicky doesn’t want or isn’t ready for.”
Andy dips her head. “Good,” she says simply, and then she’s smiling. “But if you do, Quyhn won’t hesitate to defenestrate you.”
Joe winces. Quynh’s tiny, but he’s seen her handle Booker, who’s not a small man, with an iron fist and a vicious cat-of-nine-tails. “I won’t say that I would let her, because it wouldn’t matter if I fought or not.”
“Damn straight,” Andy says, and pushes off the wall. “You’re good for him,” she says, looking through the doorway. “He smiles more. Thank you, really, Joe.”
It means a lot, coming from her. He ducks his head, pleased, and she claps her hand on his shoulder and steers him forward.
When they walk back in, Nicky looks up from speaking to Nile, and his eyes slide from Andy to Joe, questioning, and Joe just gives him a wink and a smile. Nicky’s lips quirk upwards, and he resumes chatting with Nile, the line of his shoulders loose and easy as Joe slides back onto the couch next to him.
~~~
The cool spring nights slowly give way to warmer summer air, still pleasant, but with a hint of the humidity yet to come that has Joe’s tight curls a little crazier than normal and Nicky’s hair messier when he comes home from work. Nicky and Joe meet most nights at Joe’s apartment, when Joe’s finished at the gallery and Nicky from the office. It’s larger than Nicky’s, with a kitchen more suited to two people moving in it than Nicky’s cramped, bachelor studio. Nicky gains his own two drawers in Joe’s bedroom, and some of his hoodies are a permanent fixture hanging over the back of Joe’s favourite armchair, along with Nicky’s books staking up precariously on his side table. Nicky’s fancier coffee maker has somehow migrated onto Joe’s counter, and his shampoo and bodywash sits next to Joe’s in his shower. There is a second toothbrush in the cup on Joe’s sink, a new cast iron pan hanging on his kitchen wall, another pair of shoes next to his at the front door. There are pieces of Nicky all throughout his apartment, and Joe doesn’t think he’s ever smiled this much at dirty coffee cups left absently on his bookshelves, leaving brown stains ringed on the dark wood.
~~~
It’s not often that Joe wakes before Nicky. But one Sunday morning he does, his nose buried in Nicky’s hair, his arm wrapped around Nicky’s waist, held in place by their entwined fingers. Nicky’s breathing is soft and slow; his chest rising rhythmically, his pulse steady in his neck. He’s still asleep.
Not wanting to wake his slumbering love, Joe carefully brushes his lips where Nicky’s hairline begins, his beard rasping gently across Nicky’s skin. Nicky murmurs something unintelligible and shifts, his ass pressing back into where Joe’s morning wood is making itself very known in his briefs.
The past few months they haven’t done much other than kissing and some heavy petting. Joe’s done plenty of wanking in the shower, but he will never pressure Nicky into anything, will never even hint that he wants Nicky to touch him. He’s more than happy going at Nicky’s pace, whatever that might be. So instead of pressing forward with his hips he angles them away, carefully detangling himself from Nicky’s warm body. He’ll take care of himself in the shower.
He slips off the mattress, and finds himself unable to move further. Nicky has rolled over onto his back and caught his fingers around Joe’s wrist, his grey-blue eyes too alert for someone who’s just woken up. Joe silently curses Nicky’s light sleeping habits.
“Joe?” Nicky murmurs.
“‘Morning, love,” Joe says, smiling softly. “Just uh, going to have a shower.”
Nicky blinks at him, and his gaze lowers to where Joe’s underwear is tenting at the crotch. Then his eyes slide back up, and there’s something in them, turning them molten liquid and dark, that has Joe breathless. Nicky slowly rolls over onto his side, pulls himself closer to Joe, leans in and boldly nuzzles his cheek across Joe’s cock.
“Nicky,” Joe breathes, dumbfounded and more than a little dizzy with desire. It feels like all the blood has left his brain and extremities and immediately rushed to his prick. He feels lightheaded, his stomach clenched tight.
“Come back to bed,” Nicky whispers, voice like velvet. And when he pulls Joe back down onto the sheets, Joe is helpless to do anything else but follow, gaze transfixed to his lover, sleep-flushed and pillow mussed and so, so beautiful.
Joe ends up on his back, staring wide-eyed up Nicky as the other man straddles his waist. “You’ve taken such care with me,” Nicky says, “let me take care of you for once.”
“Nicky,” Joe says, because he cannot say anything else, think anything else. And then he says, “are you sure?” Because he will never not consider his lover’s feelings.
Nicky licks his lips, and Joe’s eyes are drawn to the flash of pink that is his clever tongue. “Very,” Nicky says, that little half smile decorating his face. Joe’s never been so turned on in his life. His dick is hard enough to hammer nails, and possibly break through walls, and Nicky hasn’t even touched him yet.
Nicky leans down and kisses him. They both have morning breath, but it doesn’t stop Joe from groaning as their tongues tangle, lips meeting again and again, slick and loud and messy. Nicky rolls his hips and Joe almost bites his own tongue as his ass rides over Joe’s cock. “Fuck, Nicky,” he moans, clenching his fists in the sheets.
“You can touch me,” Nicky says, brushing his nose through Joe’s beard. “Please,” he adds, sweetly, sitting back.
Joe moves his hands so fast he thinks he might have sprained something. They come to rest on Nicky’s hips, his skin warm and soft where the sweatpants he wears to bed have ridden down. He’s greedy with his touch, groping down to cup Nicky’s round ass, making Nicky’s gasp, then sliding a palm up and over Nicky’s flat stomach and to his chest, laying his palm over Nicky’s heart.
Nicky smiles at him and leans back down to plant a kiss on Joe’s bare chest, nuzzling against his chest hair. Then he kisses down further, wriggling down Joe’s body, until his lips are on Joe’s lower stomach, so close to Joe’s cock that it’s driving him crazy. Nicky settles between his legs, big sea-foam eyes staring up at Joe through thick eyelashes. “May I?” He asks, fingers plucking at the elastic of Joe’s underwear.
“Yeah,” Joe croaks, “go on, my heart. But only if you’re comfortable.”
Nicky smiles and tugs Joe’s underwear down, Joe’s cock eagerly springing out of its confines and slapping against his lower stomach. Nicky wraps a hand around it, and Joe swears. His hips twitch, but he keeps himself still. This is Nicky’s show.
Nicky strokes his cock slowly, from root to tip, his thumb brushing a bead of pre-cum from Joe’s slit. It’s torture, but Joe bites his lower lip. A few more slow strokes, and Nicky shifts and opens his mouth. He licks a wet stripe up the underside of Joe’s cock and Joe sees fucking stars.
“Nicky, shit,” he swears, “babe, you’re killing me.”
A puff of laughter brushes over the head of his cock, and Joe looks down just in time to see Nicky swallow his cock. Joe shouts, unable to stop his hips from moving, but Nicky takes it in stride, moving with him. Joe’s hands on reflex reach for Nicky’s hair, but he diverts them at the last second, unsure if Nicky will take that well.
The choice is made for him. Nicky takes his hand and lowers it onto his own head, keeping it there until Joe gets the message and tangles his fingers into the dark strands of his hair. All the while Nicky suckles at his cock, his tongue licking around the glans, breathing gently through his nose. Joe thinks he could die happy.
And then Nicky starts to bob his head, and Joe thinks he actually might die, that maybe he has died and found paradise. His fingers tighten accidentally in Nicky’s hair but Nicky only groans at the tug, his red lips messy and sloppy in their suction around Joe’s dick. His mouth is wet and hot and perfect as it moves over Joe, driving Joe mad, his balls tight and heavy, his stomach clenching and unclenching.
It doesn’t take long for Joe to reach the edge. His cock pulses in warning in Nicky’s mouth and where Nicky is stroking with his hand near the base. But before Joe can tumble over the brink he pulls Nicky up and off his cock, watching as a string of saliva connects Nicky’s tongue to the bright red head of his dick for a second before breaking.
“Joe?” Nicky questions, wiping at the saliva dripping down his chin. Joe just heaves him up to kiss him, moaning at the taste of himself in Nicky’s mouth. The kiss is filthy, heavy and messy, Nicky’s lips swollen and slick from sucking Joe’s cock. They break apart, and Joe carefully rolls them over, hovering on hands and knees over Nicky’s body, staring down at Nicky. This time he’s the one to ask permission. “Can I?”
“I was supposed to be taking care of you,” Nicky says, voice wrecked.
“Believe me, you were doing a fucking great job,” Joe grins, “I was about to come faster than I have in years. But I want to make you feel good too, Nicky. It’s just as good as you giving me the best head of my life.”
And even after his mouth has just been on Joe’s cock, Nicky blushes. Joe chuckles and leans down to kiss him again, murmuring against his lips, “you are my heart, Nicky. May I bring you to lovely pieces?”
“Si,” Nicky whispers shakily, lapsing into Italian. Joe licks the word from his mouth, and then kisses down his chin, down his slender throat, biting gently at Nicky’s adam’s apple. Nicky gasps at the sensation, and then mewls when Joe latches onto the side of his neck and sucks, taking his time to build the bruise dark and deep, his teeth worrying at the skin. Nicky trembles through it, his fingers clinging to Joe’s shoulders.
Pulling back, Joe admires his mark on Nicky’s skin, listens to Nicky’s heavy breathing and drinks in the sight of Nicky’s flushed cheeks and heavy lidded eyes. “You are so beautiful,” he sighs, smoothing a hand down Nicky’s chest, thumb tracing his hairless pectoral. “I should replace all the art hanging in my gallery walls with pictures of you, and they all will sell within the hour.”
“You’re ridiculous,” Nicky says, and then arches as Joe pinches his nipple.
“Ridiculously in love with you,” Joe hums, tugging at the pink nub, rolling it in his fingers. Nicky whimpers, and then moans as Joe dips down to lick at it, rubbing his lips over the peak. “Sensitive,” he muses, and then sucks it into his mouth. Nicky bucks, nails digging into Joe’s skin as Joe nibbles gently. He refuses to take his mouth away until Nicky’s nipple is raw and slightly swollen, and Nicky is making high pitched pleading sounds, his mouth dropped open and gasping.
Joe takes pity on his lover and dips his hand below Nicky’s waistband. Nicky’s cock is hot and hard when he draws it out, already leaking at the tip, silk over steel in Joe’s palm. He’s almost as long as Joe, but more slender, and uncut. When Joe strokes him Nicky moans, tossing his head back, hips undulating in Joe’s grip.
“Joe,” Nicky keens, “please, oh—”
“That’s it, beloved,” Joe croons, eyes transfixed on Nicky’s flushed face. “Let go, honey, let go for me.”
Nicky bites his hip and arches again, hands scrabbling over Joe’s biceps. His legs rise and he cradles Joe’s hips in his thighs, his heels digging into Joe’s lower back. “Together,” he gasps in Italian, “my love, together, please.”
That’s something Joe will gladly do. He lowers his hips down and lines up his cock with Nicky’s, gripping both of them in his wide palm. He’s still slick from Nicky’s mouth and the saliva helps ease the way as he fists them both, groaning at the heat of Nicky’s cock against his. Nicky lets go of his shoulder and slides his hand down as well, and his touch along with Joe’s makes both of them moan.
Heat builds and builds between them, heavy gasps and breathes and moans, hips twitching and skin flushing. Nicky grasps desperately at the back of Joe’s neck, fingers sliding in sweat, Joe clenches at the sheets where he’s braces next to Nicky’s head. They both still have clothing tangled around their legs, Joe’s underwear sliding down and Nicky’s sweatpants stretched where his thighs are wrapped around Joe’s hips, but they’re too close to take the time to shed them. And then Nicky tips his head back, a surprised sound escaping his mouth as he comes, dick jerking in their grips as he splatters cum over his stomach. Joe follows seconds after, shoulders bunching as he joins Nicky in ecstasy, groaning as he contributes to the white mess pooling over Nicky’s skin.
Somehow, Joe manages to stroke them through their shared climax, before collapsing to the side of Nicky, careful to not squish him. They both catch their breath in the morning light peaking through Joe’s wooden blinds, astounded by the strengths of their peaks. Joe’s toes are numb, and he doesn’t think his legs are going to be able to hold him for another hour at least.
In the quiet, Nicky makes a thoughtful sound. Joe turns to him, drops a kiss on his pale shoulder. “Okay, my love?”
Nicky does his cute little snort laugh that never fails to make Joe’s heart tremble. “More than okay.” He covers his eyes with a hand, and his laugh turns into something else, something choked up. “He didn’t break me.”
Joe props himself up on an elbow, stomach taking a dive to his knees. But Nicky drops his hand and when he turns to Joe he’s smiling, his eyes sparkling like the ocean in warm midday sun. “He didn’t break me,” he says again. And then suddenly Joe has his arms full of a widely smiling man, peppering kisses over his face and beard. Nicky exuberant is a sight to behold; if Joe stares too long he’s sure to go blind; mortals weren’t meant to look at something so beautiful, but he can’t take his eyes off his lover. He doesn’t even care that Nicky wriggling all over him in happiness has him smearing rapidly cooling cum everywhere. He wants to imprint Nicky’s smiling face into his memory forever. His fingers itch for a pencil and paper.
“You were just wounded, angel, never broken,” Joe says, “I knew all along. I’m glad you see it too.”
Inevitably, Nicky’s lips find his, and when they part, Joe is smiling too. Nicky’s joy is infectious.
“I love you,” Nicky says, “so much. More than anything in this world.”
“The feeling is most definitely mutual,” Joe says, and then makes a face as Nicky shifts and the drying cum between their stomachs pulls at their skin.
“Shower?” Nicky asks.
“Shower,” Joe agrees.
~~~
Nile’s birthday creeps up, and before long Nicky and Joe have two days until her birthday drinks and they still haven’t gotten her a gift.
“How is Nile both easy to buy for and at the same time impossible to buy for?” Joe asks as they walk down another aisle at the department store.
“It is because she likes everything,” Nicky says, “therefore, everything is a possibility, but only one thing is perfect.”
Joe sighs and rubs the fabric of his backwards cap in frustration. “I’ve gotten her gifts for the past five years, you would think I would’ve figured out the winning solution by now.”
“We’ll find something,” Nicky assures. “What about jewellery?”
“I got her some earrings last year,” Joe grumbles.
They head over to the jewellery section anyway, just in case they can find something matching, but everything is either too simple or too gaudy, or they can’t envision Nile wearing it.
Joe rubs his face in despair. “I’m gonna find a bathroom,” he says, “and hopefully I’ll trip and hit my head and die.”
“Don’t take too long,” Nicky tells him, that little warm smile on his lips that Joe is beyond fond of.
“I can never stay away from you long,” Joe sighs overdramatically. “I won’t even let death part us; I will simply let death know that my life is already claimed by a beautiful Italian man who does not care if I slip in the bathroom and die.”
“You do that,” Nicky says, indulgent, and kisses Joe’s cheek. “I’ll be in the homewares. Maybe we’ll get her a blanket.”
Joe ends up lost and having to ask a shop assistant where the restrooms are, and by the time he’s washed his hands and found his way to the homewares section, it’s been around ten minutes. Joe hopes that Nicky doesn’t think he’s abandoned him to gift shopping by himself.
He looks down the aisles, hoping to spot the dark hair of his lover between the shelves. It’s near the back of the store when he finally sees Nicky, but he’s not alone.
There’s another man, taller and broader than Nicky, his profile facing Joe. For a split second Joe doesn’t know who it is, even though bells of recognition are ringing in his brain, before a cold bucket of realisation hits him. He’s seen that face in Facebook pictures, when he’d stalked Nicky’s ex-Dom to know what he looked like, so if he ever saw him on the street he could give the man a piece of his mind. Keane.
Joe’s stalking forward before he even consciously tells his feet to move, shoulders up and face set at the closed off expression on Nicky’s face. Keane’s so preoccupied with Nicky and Nicky so centred on the threat from his past that neither of them hear Joe coming.
“Leave me alone,” Nicky’s saying, and Joe would be proud at how steady Nicky’s voice was if he had any other emotion than rage and protectiveness simmering in his veins. How fucking dare Keane even look at his lover, how fucking dare he speak to him.
“Come on, I haven’t seen you in like a year,” Keane says, and Joe’s only feet away when he reaches out to try and grab Nicky’s arm. Nicky flinches back and then suddenly Joe is between them, knocking Keane’s hand away, expression stone cold. It takes a wealth of self control not to just knock Keane’s teeth right out, but Joe doesn’t want to cause a scene for Nicky’s sake.
“You heard him,” Joe says, “fuck right off.”
Keane takes a step back, and Joe can hear the relieved breath Nicky lets out behind him.
“Who’s this, Nick?” Keane says, “what, you’re so desperate for dick that you let a sand ****** rape you now?”
Joe only has a split second of fury before he starts to react, but Nicky brushes past him in a blur of motion, and suddenly there’s a dull thud and a sickening crunch as his gentle lover swings a fist at Keane’s nose and breaks it. Keane lets out a grunt of pain and surprise, and doesn’t have time to react other than that before Nicky follows through with a vicious knee to his crotch.
Keane goes down heavily with a high pitched wheeze. Nicky stands over him like an avenging angel, hair windswept and sea glass eyes iced over. When he speaks his voice is a snowbound tundra. “You can insult me all you like,” he says, “but if you think I will let you speak about Joe like that, you are very mistaken.”
And then he turns to Joe, and takes Joe’s hand in his. “We’re leaving now,” he says to Keane whimpering through a bloody nose and curled up on the floor, “and if you follow I will make you very sorry. As will our friends.”
With that, he walks off, leading Joe who’s following with his mouth agape. Nicky’s footsteps quicken, and when he finally bursts out through an emergency exit, he’s shaking, and his face is pale. He leans up against the wall of the loading dock they’ve found themselves in, catching his breath.
“Nicky, Nicky, look at me, are you okay?” Joe asks, concerned for his lover’s state of mind, his hand on Nicky’s waist, his other cupping Nicky’s face. Nicky nods, but his eyes are glassy, and the only colour to his face are two pink spots high on his cheeks.
“I’m sorry,” he says, “I shouldn’t have lost my temper. I’m sorry you had to see that.”
“Love, you were amazing,” Joe says with conviction, and Nicky stares at him in shock. “If you didn’t punch him, I would’ve. And I might not have been able to stop. How the fuck is he such a flaming asshole?”
Nicky shrugs, but he doesn’t look so guilty anymore, so scared. “I’m sorry that you had to hear him say that,” he says. “I knew that he was a dick but I didn’t think he was racist.”
“Fuck him,” is all Joe says. He doesn’t want to think about that disgusting excuse for a human being back in the department store, hopefully still writhing in pain on the floor. “Don’t be sorry. You didn’t make him say that. What else did he say to you before I got there? Did he hurt you? Did he touch you?”
“No. No, he didn’t get the chance. I think he saw me less than a minute before you.”
Joe lets out a relieved breath. “Are you really okay, my love?”
“I’m okay,” Nicky says, but he’s still trembling in Joe’s hold. “Can we go home?” He asks, quieter.
“Yeah,” Joe says, “let's go home.”
~~~
Nicky’s knuckles on his right hand are bruised and a little swollen, but luckily the skin hasn’t split over them. Joe tells him to hang tight on the couch and comes back with two mugs of hot chocolate and an ice pack to help with the swelling and pain, and then cuddles Nicky to his side.
Sometimes Nicky doesn’t want to talk, and Joe can tell that it’s one of those times, so he just puts some trashy Netflix action movie on that will let Nicky watch mindlessly and unwind. He spends most of the runtime carding his fingers through Nicky’s hair, lightly scratching his nails over Nicky’s scalp and rubbing at spots that make Nicky sigh happily, until he’s practically purring in Joe’s arms.
The movie comes to an end after a flashy action scene. “You don’t think less of me?” Nicky asks as they’re watching the credits roll.
“Nothing ever could,” Joe says. “But why do you ask?”
“Because I let someone that awful touch me,” Nicky says, his eyes still on the television.
“He wasn’t like that in the beginning, was he?” Joe says.
“...No,” Nicky admits.
“You didn’t let him,” Joe says. “He made you believe he was something he wasn’t, and then he trapped your kind heart into a manipulative relationship. I don’t think less of you Nicky, at all. I think you’re incredibly strong for surviving what he did to you. There’s strength in the fact that you can still open yourself up to love, and let yourself be vulnerable.”
Nicky hides his face in Joe’s neck. “You think too much of me.”
“I think the world of you,” Joe says, “and more.”
Nicky is quiet for a moment. “I thank God every night that he deemed me worthy enough to meet you.”
“If he hadn’t let us meet, I would’ve beat him black and blue,” Joe says, tipping Nicky’s chin up.
Nicky huffs a laugh. “Blasphemer.”
“For you, anything.”
~~~
When everybody hears Keane’s run in with Nicky at Nile’s drinks, Andy’s face goes blank, and Quynh’s face goes viciously dark. Booker slams a palm down on their table at the bar in anger, and Nile looks like she’s ready to murder someone.
Nicky shifts on his feet, uncomfortable with their anger for him, but Joe says proudly, “Nicky socked him right in the nose.”
“Oh my god,” Nile says, while Andy laughs and Quynh mutters “good” darkly. “Nicky, you know how to throw a punch?”
“I taught him,” Quynh says, teeth flashing in the dim lighting. “He’s a surprisingly good learner.”
“Give us the word, and we’ll remove his testicles from his body for you,” Booker says, sounding a bit too bloodthirsty.
“And then make him eat them,” Andy adds. “Obviously, our last session with him didn’t stick.”
Nicky goes a little pale. “There’s no need for that,” he says.
“I think Nicky may have ruptured them anyway when he kneed him right in the dick,” Joe says.
Nile crows. “Nicky! Holy shit, I’m so proud of you!”
Nicky grins a little shyly. “Thanks.”
“It was kind of hot,” Joe says, “I never expected Nicky to defend my honour like that.”
“He called Joe a racial slur,” Nicky explains, “I couldn’t stand for it.”
“What a piece of shit,” Booker spits, and everybody nods along in agreement.
“To Nicky!” Nile exclaims, raising her glass. “And his bad-ass-mother-fucking ass-kicking skills!”
Everyone raises their glasses while Nicky hides his face in his hands, but he’s smiling behind his palms. “To Nicky!”
~~~
Summer slowly cools to autumn, and Nicky fully moves into Joe’s apartment. Joe and Nicky still spend their regular nights at The Old Guard, chatting with people and watching floor shows, but never joining in on the play, within the club or in their bedroom. Sometimes, Joe spots a yearning in Nicky’s gaze when he watches a sub kneel at their Dom’s feet, the sub looking up with adoration in their eyes as the Dom pets over their head. Nicky will be ready when he’s ready, Joe knows, so he waits patiently. And if he’s never ready, then that’s okay too. He has all the patience in the world for Nicky.
And then one Friday night he comes home from the art gallery, tired from dealing with annoying clients all day, and spots Nicky’s shoes next to the door. Looking forward to the weekend and to spending time with his lover, he dumps his keys and bag on the side table. “Nicky? Darling? You won’t believe the shitter of a day I’ve had.”
He walks further into their apartment, frowning in confusion when he hears no response. Nicky’s not in the kitchen, nor in the study when Joe walks past, so he must be in their bedroom. Maybe he has his headphones in, or he’s so engrossed in a book that he hadn’t heard Joe call out.
Joe pushes the door open to their bedroom, and stops in his tracks. His mouth goes dry; his hands lax in surprise.
“Nicky,” he rasps.
Blue-grey eyes peek up at him through demurely lowered lashes as Nicky lifts his head. His lover is naked, kneeling in the centre of their bed, a long, dark blue rope laid reverently out in front of him. The curtains are drawn shut, but candles have been lit, and the small flames throw dancing light over Nicky’s pale skin, illuminating him lovingly.
“Joe,” Nicky responds, voice low and intimate.
“Nicky, I—” Joe steps forward, fingers flexing with the overwhelming urge to touch and to claim the beautiful, ethereal creature in front of him.
Nicky just slides his hands underneath the folded rope and offers it up to Joe, face open and wanting. Joe carefully takes it from him, breath catching in his throat, slides the material through his fingers, feeling the softness of it, the strength. Not too thick, not too thin, about the width of Joe’s index finger. The navy colour will look delightful against Nicky’s skin; against the flush of pink that will bloom underneath the restraints.
“Are you sure, my love?” Joe asks, looking back into Nicky’s eyes. His stomach clenches in anticipation, in want.
Nicky nods, and there is no deception in his gaze, no hesitance. “Yes,” he says simply. Then, “please. I am ready.”
Joe doesn’t remember the fatigue he had been feeling merely minutes ago. He’s suddenly invigorated as he toes his shoes and socks off and strips out of his jacket, letting the clothing fall to the floor haphazardly. He climbs up eagerly onto the bed, cups Nicky’s face in his palms, and kisses him passionately.
Nicky moans, his hands remaining in his lap as he lets Joe plunder his mouth. Joe takes his time, sucking Nicky’s tongue and tugging at his lips with his teeth, until Nicky’s mouth is red and slick, his skin irritated by Joe’s beard.
“Anytime you want me to stop, or if you feel uncomfortable, even in the least, you will let me know,” Joe says as he pulls back, keeping Nicky’s gaze on his. “I will stop immediately, and we can reassess. If it’s slowing down, or stopping completely, I will not mind, Nicky. Do you understand?”
Nicky smiles, soft and sweet. “I understand.”
Joe’s heart swells. “Good.” He kisses Nicky’s forehead, his nose, both of his eyelids and then his mouth. And then he says, “hold out your wrists, my love.”
Nicky offers him his wrists and Joe drops kisses on the inside of each delicate joint, breathing in the scent of Nicky’s skin. Then he picks up the rope between them, and folds it in half, again testing the feel of it against his palms again. The material is soft enough not to irritate, but strong. It will do very nicely.
He wraps the doubled rope around Nicky’s wrists twice, slowly and carefully, leaving enough slack for Nicky to be comfortable and to not cut off blood flow. As he does he watches Nicky’s face for any signs of fear or apprehension, but there is none, only trust, and deep desire. Joe feels immensely humbled that Nicky is letting him do this, is putting his faith in Joe to treat him right, to treat him how he deserves to be treated.
With Nicky serene, Joe continues, crossing the two ends of the folded rope and pulling one down between Nicky’s forearms, wrapping it under the two loops around Nicky’s wrists and back up again through the other side. Then he creates a loop with the working end and pulls the other end through. Checking once again on Nicky, and seeing nothing admiss, he creates another loop, pulls the end through again, and pulls tight to lock the knots. Carefully, he tests the tightness of the restraints by slipping two fingers between the rope and Nicky’s skin, satisfied when he can. Not too tight, but tight enough that Nicky won’t be able to pull free. A simple double column tie, nothing fancy, and one that Joe can tie in his sleep, but he wants to start off slow. There will be plenty of time in the future for intricately tying his pretty love up in complicated knots and loops. For now, sweet and simple is best.
He holds Nicky’s cheek in his hand again, Nicky’s skin flushed against his palm. Nicky’s pupils are dilated, and his mouth is slightly ajar. He looks vaguely dazed, and his cock is already swelling against his thigh.
“How are you doing?” Joe asks.
“Good,” Nicky says, licking his lips as he tests the restraints and they hold securely. “Really good.”
Joe smiles, pleased. He moves himself up to sit against the headboard, guiding Nicky with his hands, helping him lay back over Joe’s thighs lengthwise across the bed, a pillow placed under his head and neck and upper back to keep them elevated so Nicky is comfortable. Joe rests a hand on Nicky’s stomach, softly stroking.
“Still okay?”
“Yes,” Nicky nods. His bound wrists rest on his middle, and Joe was right, the colour of the rope contrasts beautifully with Nicky’s skin. Joe picks them up to kiss both of Nicky’s hands, and then guides them above Nicky’s head.
“Hold them there, my love. Can you do that for me?”
Nicky lips his lips, his eyes glittering in the candlelight. “Yes, Joe.”
“Good boy,” Joe praises, and Nicky’s eyes flutter shut, his mouth gasping open at the words. Joe smiles, running his fingers up over Nicky’s stomach and ribs, enjoying the wriggle Nicky gives as he finds a ticklish spot.
“So pretty,” he murmurs as he strokes his palms firmly over Nicky’s front, feeling every inch of skin, finding every freckle and mole with his fingertips. “The first time I saw you, I was in awe, I couldn’t look away. Your eyes, my angel, they drew me in and never let me go. Your lips, your nose, your chin, your forehead, the way you smiled. I was lost and happy to be.”
“Joe,” Nicky breathes, his face flushed.
“It’s all true,” Joe says, tracing a rib. “And I remain lost to this day, and for an eternity more.” He smiles lovingly down at Nicky, who stares back, expression wonderstruck, before tweaking a pink nipple.
Nicky gasps, tipping his head back as Joe plucks at the nub, twirling it between his fingers and tugging gently. Between his thighs, Nicky is now fully erect, his cock lying full against his lower stomach, flushed and red at the tip. Joe is hard as well, the bulge in his pants pressing against Nicky’s side, but his pleasure is secondary. This is about Nicky. He will get to himself soon enough.
Joe worries Nicky’s nipple until Nicky is whimpering and squirming, and then Joe moves onto it’s twin, giving it the same treatment. “How’s that, my love?” He asks, “do you like that?”
“Yes,” Nicky gasps, hips wriggling. Joe doesn’t pin him down; they’ve had conversations about what Nicky can’t tolerate yet when their sex life began, and being held down was one of them. Ropes, a maybe, but obviously now a definite okay.
“Be still, angel,” Joe admonishes, pinching a reddened nipple, and Nicky obediently falls motionless, the only movement of his body his chest moving with his breaths. “That’s it,” Joe coos, “relax, darling. I’m going to take care of you.”
Nicky licks his lips, whimpering, but goes lax over Joe’s lap, watching him through his eyelashes. In reward, Joe reaches down between his legs and cups his cock and balls.
“Such a pretty cock as well,” he says, gently rubbing his fingers over Nicky’s testicles. Nicky shivers, biting his lip, but he stays still. “Gorgeous all over, hm? I’m so lucky to have you, look at how hard and desperate you are for me already. You’re practically dripping, my heart.”
And Nicky is leaking, precum pearling at the tip of his cock, dripping down onto his stomach. Joe smiles as Nicky whines, and takes pity on him, taking his cock in hand and fisting it slowly.
“Oh,” Nicky breathes, head tipping back. Joe can tell he’s holding himself still now, fighting the urge to buck his hips up into Joe’s hold. Joe keeps stroking him for a while, drinking in Nicky’s mewls and keens, the flush deepening on his cheeks, the glint of his sea glass eyes under his eyelashes. Their pupils are fully blown now, wide and dark, transfixed on Joe’s face. He drives Nicky to the edge with his hand, murmuring praises to his lover, about how good he’s being, how lovely he is, how much Joe loves him.
And just before Nicky tips over the precipice, his whines reaching a high, urgent pitch, Joe lets his cock go, resting his hand against Nicky’s heaving stomach. He lets Nicky catch his breath, his eyes squeezed shut, his cock twitching where Joe has abandoned it, swollen and angry red.
“I’m not done with you yet,” Joe whispers, tweaking a sore, pink nipple. Nicky moans, his expression blissed out even though he hasn’t been allowed to come yet, hair messy and face flushed. “Up we go, love.”
He helps Nicky roll over onto his knees and elbows, Nicky’s head dropping between his shoulders, his forehead against the bed. Joe kneels behind him, just admiring Nicky’s form for a moment, raking his eyes over Nicky’s broad shoulders and slender waist, the dimples above his pert, full ass, the little mole above his left cheek that Joe wants to lick. So he does, gently gripping Nicky’s hips in his hands and leaning forward.
He pauses, though, and asks, “still okay, Nicky?”
“Uh huh,” Nicky says, and his voice is wrecked.
Joe smiles, and licks over that tempting mole. Nicky shivers in his hands, his breathing picking up as Joe kisses over the soft skin of his ass, his beard rasping over the plump curves of his rump. Nicky has a gorgeous ass, and Joe plans on worshipping it like it deserves.
He spreads Nicky’s cheeks with his thumbs and licks his lips as he eyes Nicky’s hole, pink and furled tight, so very enticing. His cock gives an eager twitch in his pants, but he ignores it. Instead he blows warm air over that pretty pink pucker and Nicky whimpers, his rim twitching at the sensation.
“Joe,” Nicky moans, long and pleading. “Oh, please, please,” he begs, sliding into Italian.
“Patience, my heart,” Joe, but in spite of his words he tilts forward and licks a long, wet stripe up Nicky’s cleft and over his hole.
Nicky keens high, back arching, but he makes a valiant effort to stay still, his muscles quivering in his back. Joe rewards him with another slow lick, and then centres his tongue over Nicky’s hole, lapping at it. Nicky tastes like clean skin and gentle musk, and Joe can’t help but groan, squeezing Nicky’s ass in his hands.
Joe points his tongue, and wriggles it past Nicky’s tight rim. Nicky shouts, the sound muffled in the sheets, his hips twitching. Joe fucks his hole with his tongue once, twice, and then gives it a firm suck, revelling in Nicky’s desperate whimpers and moans. He pulls back to have a good look at Nicky’s entrance, slick with saliva and a deeper, richer pink, the skin around it irritated from his beard.
Unable to help himself, Joe thumbs over it, and dips the tip of his thumb into the tight, hot heat. In response Nicky lets out a breathy cry, trying to push back into the penetration with his hips, but Joe pulls back and makes an admonishing noise.
“Be still, my love,” he repeats, “you can do it, for me, can’t you, hm? Be good.”
Nicky sobs, but goes still, shoulders quivering. Joe climbs up over him, and then gently rolls Nicky over onto his back, propping Nicky’s hips up on a pillow.
Nicky’s expression is completely dazed, his mouth lax and eyes half-lidded. His cheeks are bright red, his hair dark and messy, his bound wrists up over his head. He watches with rapt attention as Joe pulls his shirt off and throws it to the side before leaning down to kiss him.
Their mouths meet, hot and wet and messy, their breaths heavy between them. Joe sucks at Nicky’s lips, then kisses down his red cheek, down to his ear. He tugs at one of Nicky’s silver earrings with his teeth and Nicky’s knees clench tighter at his hips.
Joe chuckles and sits up on his knees, unbuckling his belt and unzipping his pants. Nicky waits patiently, staring between Joe’s thighs as Joe finally pulls his cock out with a groan, fisting at the thick, swollen length of it. He stops himself after two strokes and leans over Nicky to the nightstand, fumbling open the drawer and pulling out a tube of lube.
“Still okay?” Joe checks in, and Nicky can only nod his head, staring up at him adoringly. Joe smiles, cupping Nicky’s cheek before popping open the cap of the tube. He slicks his fingers with it liberally and tosses it aside, reaching between Nicky’s thighs.
At the first press of his fingers against Nicky’s hole Nicky lets out a relieved breath, spreading his legs wider.
Teasing, Joe circles around the pucker. “Eager, are we?” He husks, and Nicky nods, eyes bright, teeth in his full lower lip.
“Hmm, I like that,” Joe says and sinks a finger in right down to the first knuckle. Nicky gasps, clenching down on the invasion, and it’s Joe’s turn to bite his lip at the tight, slick heat. He pulls the finger out carefully, pumping it in and out a few times to make sure Nicky loosens before introducing a second finger.
Nicky moans at the stretch, his cock heavy and leaking liberally over his stomach. “Joe, my love,” he says desperately in Italian, “fuck me, please, I need it.”
Joe hums, pushing in a third finger, enjoying the sensation of Nicky’s rim clinging to his knuckles, his inner walls trying to suck him deeper. “I’m not just going to fuck you, darling,” he says, low and velvet dark, “I’m going to bring you apart, make you see stars, make love to you until you’re crying out on my cock for release, for me to love you, until all you can think of is me inside you, claiming you, making you mine.”
Nicky sobs. “Please,” he begs, “Joe, Yusuf, I need—I need you.” His hands clench into fists above his head, where they’re still bound in Joe’s knots, knuckles white.
“I’ve got you, my love,” Joe says, drawing his fingers out of Nicky’s heat. Nicky sobs at the loss, whining as Joe takes the time to slick his cock with the previously discarded lube. Ready, he adjusts Nicky’s hips on the pillow for a better angle, and guides himself forward. “Look at me, Nicolo, look into my eyes.”
Arching, Nicky moans to the ceiling as Joe sinks slowly into him, stretching him around his thick girth. They maintain eye contact as Joe keeps himself furiously in check, furrowing his brows as he concentrates on rolling his hips gently, venturing deeper and deeper into Nicky with every fluid movement, until he’s seated as deep as he can go. His hip bones press into Nicky’s ass, Nicky’s thighs tight around him as he pauses, letting Nicky adjust.
Nicky’s breathing is fast and shallow, but his eyes are steady on Joe’s, tears gathering on his lashes. There’s still nothing but love and desire in those ocean-grey depths, glazed over with pleasure and submission.
“Perfect,” Joe praises, “so perfect for me, you feel like paradise, my love.” He slowly draws his hips back and groans as Nicky clenches around him, trying to hold him inside the sweet clutch of his body, inner walls dragging slick and tight and hot against Joe’s aching cock. He pulls out as much as he can bear, and then slowly presses forward.
Nicky’s breath hitches, and the flush on his face is spreading down his neck to his chest. He cries out as Joe repeats his slow, deep thrust, tears spilling over.
Joe brushes them away tenderly with a thumb, his other hand propping him up next to Nicky’s head. “Still okay?” He asks, and even though it might kill him to stop right now, buried to the hilt in his lover’s sweet body, he will do it if Nicky deems it so.
But Nicky just nods frantically, squeezing Joe’s sides with his knees. Joe smiles and thrusts again, changing the angle of his hips slightly, and his smile widens as Nicky’s eyes go wide and his mouth drops open as Joe finds his prostate.
“There we go,” Joe says, beginning to pick up the pace. Nicky makes the most beautiful sounds as he drives forward, mewls and keens and hitching moans, taking Joe like he was made for it, hips in sync with Joe’s set rhythm. His pretty cock bounces with every thrust, his legs now wrapped securely around Joe’s waist, urging him faster.
The sounds of their love making is music to Joe’s ears, their gasps and moans and the sound of Joe fucking into Nicky’s wet hole loud in their bedroom, the slap of skin on skin echoing off the walls. Joe grabs one of Nicky’s thighs and hooks it over his shoulder, pushing his cock that much deeper, and Nicky’s eyes go unfocused, his cries crescendoing.
“So beautiful, my heart, so good for me, I couldn’t ask for anything more, for anyone else, you are my life, my love, my other half, my moon and stars,” Joe says, reaching down to fist at Nicky’s desperate cock. Nicky practically wails, arching to the ceiling, and clenches down on Joe’s cock. Joe grunts, the coil of molten pleasure in his stomach tightening, his prick pulsing, aching, and he knows he’s close, knows that he’s not going to be able to draw this out for much longer.
He dives down to capture Nicky’s mouth with his, and swallows Nicky’s broken moan as his cock jerks in Joe’s grip, spilling hot cum over Nicky’s stomach. Joe drives his hips forward once, twice into Nicky’s convulsing body, and then follows Nicky over the precipice, vision darkening for a moment with the force of his release. He pulses cum deep inside Nicky, pressed as close as he can to Nicky’s core, joining Nicky in the ecstasy of their bodies becoming one.
And then Joe comes back to himself, breath ragged and chest heaving, and sits up. He cups Nicky’s face, examining Nicky’s blissed out expression, his glazed eyes.
“Are you with me, Nicolo?” He asks quietly, and Nicky only hums a vague affirmative noise, floating somewhere in the clouds above. Joe smiles fondly. “I’m going to pull out now,” he warns, and a shadow of a petulant frown crosses Nicky’s face, and Joe chuckles. “Believe me, I would gladly stay inside of you for eternity, but at some point we will have to part.”
He draws back, watching Nicky closely for any sign of pain, and slips out, his softening cock followed by a glob of cum leaking from Nicky’s used hole. He shuffles down and inspects, and Nicky’s entrance is puffy and a little raw, but there is no blood. Breathing a sigh of relief, Joe presses a kiss to Nicky’s relaxed mouth.
“I’m going to untie you now,” he explains, reaching for Nicky’s wrists. He carefully pulls the knots free and lets the rope fall away, massaging gently at the reddened marks they’ve left from Nicky tugging at them. He drops a kiss on each slender wrist, checks that Nicky is still floating pleasantly, and says he’ll be right back.
He quickly sheds his pants that are still around his hips, sweaty and a little uncomfortable, and collects a washcloth from the en-suite bathroom. He dampens it with warm water, and comes back to Nicky waiting patiently for him. He wipes the cum from Nicky’s skin, swiping over his softened cock gently, and then between his thighs, where Joe’s release has leaked out. Then he cleans himself and drops the cloth onto the floor. He’ll deal with that later.
He gathers Nicky’s limp, pleasure stated body in his arms and leans back against the headboard, drawing the covers up over them to keep Nicky warm. Nicky’s head rests against his shoulder, and Nicky snuggles close, making happy murmurs. Feeling almost dizzy with affection, Joe offers the glass of water they keep on the nightstand to Nicky, who clumsily sips at it. When he’s drunk his fill Joe finishes the rest of it, and settles in to wait for Nicky to become earthbound once again.
“Mm, Joe?” Nicky whispers after a few minutes, stirring against him. Joe strokes his hair back from his forehead, beaming down at Nicky’s still slightly dazed face. Nicky blinks lazily up at him, licking his kiss-bruised lips.
“Hello there, my heart, how are you feeling?” Joe asks.
“Wonderful,” Nicky says, sighing happily.
“Not too sore? How are your wrists?”
Nicky flexes them, and shakes his head. “They feel fine, thank you.”
Joe drops a kiss on Nicky’s gorgeous head, holding Nicky closer. “You were amazing,” he praises, “thank you for letting me share that experience with you.”
“The pleasure was all mine,” Nicky says, wriggling around in Joe’s lap to sling his arms around Joe’s shoulders. He smiles, blindingly bright and so, so beautiful, and Joe’s heart feels like it could explode with all the love he has for this man. “Thank you for making me feel safe, for making me feel that I could do that again. I love you.”
“I love you too,” Joe says, and they press their smiles together in a sweet kiss, and when they part, they do not go far, remaining entwined in each other’s embrace.