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He's all and he is more.	By : DarklingWillow Category: M through R > The Old Guard Views: 776 -:- Recommendations : 1 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own The Old Guard movie (or comics), and I do not make any profit from this writing.

Chapter List
- 13
- 14
Chapter 13.

            Yusuf slid the knife slowly up Nicolò’s neck to his jaw, then dipped the blade quickly into the water bowl to clean it before he made Nicolò tilt his head a little to the side and continued to shave his scant beard.
            One of the other men around the fire made some comment about Nicolò needing to grow his beard out, but Yusuf ignored him. The men around the fire had commented on Yusuf trimming his own beard earlier, and he had ignored them then too. This was after all his own beard, and he could keep it however he wanted, and right now, he was shaving Nicolò’s beard, for Nicolò preferred to be clean shaven. It was expected of a priest, or so Nicolò had told him.

            “He will look like a child,” the same man said and waved his cup at Nicolò.
            “He will not look like a child,” Yusuf retorted, and gently slid the razor up Nicolò’s jaw, removing the hair completely. “He’s thirty, he’s not going to look like a child.”
            “It goes against Allah, shaving the beard,” the man continued, and Yusuf looked up just long enough to frown at the man.
            “Well, then it’s a good thing that Nicolò does not believe in Allah,” Yusuf said as he rinsed the knife and then continued with his work. “His name for Allah is God, and he is ordained for God’s holy orders. And those orders tell him that he should be clean shaven. So, I shave him.”
            The man grumbled something unintelligible, and his partner swatted him on the arm to silently tell him to shut up.

            Yusuf and Nicolò had gone all the way to Herat with their second caravan, and there they had decided to continue East. They had joined a third caravan headed for Kabul, but neither of them liked it much, because of this man who was now criticising Nicolò’s decision to shave his beard.
            This man had taken an instant dislike to Nicolò, and constantly found reason to either criticize him or degrade him in some way. More than once, the man had done everything in his power to rile Nicolò up, but Nicolò had always turned his back and walked away, because he knew that if he were to fight this man his injuries would heal too fast, and that would cause the others to talk. Yusuf had spent most of the journey walking between this man and Nicolò, trying to keep the peace. But there had also been times when Nicolò had been forced to drag Yusuf away before he would come to blows with the man.
            The leader of the caravan had also tried to intervene to calm things down, but Yusuf felt that by now the man had won the leader’s ear, and that he and Nicolò might be safer leaving the caravan before they would reach Kabul.

This man had also found fault with them for sharing a tent and had been very vocal about the fact that he believed that Nicolò and Yusuf were having physical relations and claimed that that was a sin against Allah as well.
            For this reason, Yusuf and Nicolò had been very careful about how they acted around each other in camp and kept their physical relations at night at a minimum. They both knew that this man was a veteran of the caravan, and he had standing within the group. His words held more sway than Yusuf and Nicolò’s words ever would.
            And yet, they had also decided that they would not act as if they were strangers. Yusuf had offered to shave Nicolò for the simple reason that Nicolò had a hard time doing so without a looking glass. All they had to use as a looking glass was a polished brass plate and Nicolò had cut himself to bleeding the last time he had tried to use it. They could not risk that happening where anyone else could see. Therefore, Nicolò helped Yusuf with trimming his beard, and Yusuf shaved him in return.
            Nicolò also preferred to be clean shaven around the Arabs, for they tended to make fun of how scant his beard was.

            The other man stood up and spat on the ground, glaring at Nicolò as Yusuf shaved his cheeks gently.
            “Those are some funny holy orders, that allow a man to lie with another man as if he were a woman,” the man said, and spat into the sand at Nicolò’s feet, then strode off into the camp.
            Yusuf felt Nicolò twitch under his hands, and he stroked his thumb over Nicolò’s forehead as he guided his head so Yusuf could shave his chin.
            “Don’t worry about him,” Yusuf said in Latin and smiled at Nicolò. “He’s just jealous of your childish good looks.”
            “Not funny, Yusuf,” Nicolò answered in Latin and tried to shake his head. “He worries me.”
            “He won’t dare to touch you, Nicolò. Not while I’m here. I made it clear to him that you are under my protection, and that if anyone tries to touch you, they will have to go through me,” Yusuf assured his lover, but Nicolò frowned at him.
            “They don’t seem all that bothered by the thought of going through you first, honestly. He’s been talking around the caravan about how you must have been fighting in the war, and why you aren’t any more,” Nicolò said, then huffed with irritation when Yusuf told him to shut up and stretch his upper lip so he could shave the little moustache.
            Yusuf used the few moments of silence to smile down at Nicolò and answer him.
            “I know they’ve been talking, but I have a very simple response to that. I just ask them why they aren’t fighting in the war. And if they insist, I say that I left the fighting because my regiment was wiped out, but I got away with your help. Which is the truth. You did save my life back there, at the stronghold.”
            Nicolò huffed again and accepted the cloth from Yusuf’s hand to wipe the water and oil from his face, then ran his hand over his lower face to feel the smooth skin.
            “Thank you,” he said as Yusuf turned to clean their shaving knife, and then he looked up at his lover. “You saved my life too, you know. Twice. Which means that I owe you another life debt.”
            Yusuf turned to look at him as he dried the knife, then sat down next to him.
            “We owe each other a life debt. For you saved my life as well when you showed me how you feel for me. Without you, I would be lost. Without you, I would be back home, miserable and leading a life that I did not want. A life that would drain the life from me faster than you would believe.”
            Nicolò turned his face away and stared into the fire. It was still a sore subject between them, the fact that Yusuf had a family back home in Marrakesh, that there was a wife and three children waiting for him to return from the war.
            Yusuf nodded his head and stood up, threw the dirty shaving water away and went to rinse the bowl and put their things away in their tent. They had separate watches again this night, so he would have to get ready for his watch, while Nicolò would need to go to sleep to be ready for his watch later in the night.

            Nicolò followed Yusuf to their tent after rinsing their dishes and cups, and they dared to share a few hurried kisses while Yusuf got dressed in his light armour and gathered his weapons in their tent. Then Nicolò lay down to sleep and Yusuf went out to do his duty and keep the caravan safe while the traders and their companions slept.

            While he walked between the watch fires and stared into the starlit darkness of the pass where they had camped for the night, Yusuf pondered what their best action would be. He had been pondering their options for the last few days, because of that man who had decided to hate Nicolò for no other reason than that he was a Frank. And the exchange while he had been shaving Nicolò had settled his mind. He would ask for them to be released from their service at Bagram, and there they would trade in their camels for horses and head off to the East. On their own or with another caravan, he did not care. The trade routes were clear, and easy to follow, even this far East, and they should be able to find their way on their own.

            Yusuf had also been drawing the entire time they had been travelling. He and Nicolò were still having dreams of those two women, and in their dreams, they would see flashes and bits and pieces of places, buildings, landmarks. Yusuf would do his best to draw them as he and Nicolò would put them together. When they had been in Bamyan, they had met a man from the Lands below the Winds, who had recognized one of the buildings that Yusuf had drawn. That man had told them to head to a place called Kashgar, and there they would find people who could guide them to places where they could find such buildings. Yusuf had found out that from Bagram there was a mountain road that would take them very close to Kashgar. He had yet to mention this plan to Nicolò, but he was now decided that tomorrow, he would tell Nicolò about it. They would leave this caravan as soon as they got to Bagram.

            The watch was uneventful, if a bit a cold, and the only excitement Nicolò’s watch saw was some kind of a rodent that invaded the camp and at its height the chase involved five guards and three of the dogs that were part of the caravan.
            The following few days were equally uneventful, but Nicolò and Yusuf did their best to avoid their foe just to try and avoid any sort of conflict. Unfortunately, the man continually chased them down in the camps just to antagonize them, especially whenever Yusuf would shave Nicolò.

The last night they set up camp before they would reach Bagram the man tried to hit Yusuf while he had the shaving knife against Nicolò’s throat, and it was only Nicolò’s quick reaction that saved him from having his throat slashed. Yusuf had gone after the man then, knocking him on his ass, and Nicolò had to drag Yusuf off him, still screaming in fury.
            They had finished shaving by their little tent with a small fire of their own, and then Yusuf had left Nicolò in the tent to go stand his watch.

            Yusuf did not dare to let their little tent out of his line of sight for long while he walked his watch, and twice he even walked further than he was supposed to just to make sure that the tent was undisturbed.
            It was nearing the end of his watch when he was at the watch fire, their tent just out of his sight, when a shout rose up from the direction of their tent.

            “What was that?” the other guard at the watch fire asked and stood up, and Yusuf turned to look in the direction of the tent where Nicolò slept.
            “Someone shouted,” Yusuf answered and started to walk in the direction of their tent.

            Then Nicolò shouted again.
            “Yusuf!” came the cry and Yusuf was running before the other guard had even caught on.
            When Yusuf reached their tent, it was half fallen, and there was an obvious struggle going on under the heavy tent cloth.
            “Yusuf!” Nicolò screamed again under the fallen tent, and Yusuf pulled his sword at the same time he got down on his knees and pulled up the tent where the flap should be.
            Their antagonist grunted heavily under the fabric, cursing Nicolò in Arabic, and Nicolò answered him in Arabic, telling him to go to Jahannam.

            “Nicolò! I’m here!” Yusuf yelled and pulled at the heavy fabric, slicing it apart with his sword, desperate to get to Nicolò. He finally found an opening to get under the fallen tent, and within he found Nicolò on his back, with their antagonist on top of him, a dagger in his hand.
            Nicolò was bleeding from a cut on his neck, and the man was trying to stab Nicolò in the heart, cursing him loudly.
            “Get off of him!” Yusuf shouted and reached for the man. He swung the dagger at Yusuf, and Yusuf just barely managed to avoid being cut.
            “You’re next, you filthy deserter! I will kill your little Frank whore, and then I will kill you!” the man shouted and turned back to Nicolò.
            “Yusuf, help me!” Nicolò cried out and lifted his hands to grab the man’s wrists as he aimed the dagger at Nicolò’s neck.
            “I said, get off him!” Yusuf cried out and thrust with his sword. The thrust was badly aimed, the blade glanced off ribs, and slid under the man’s tunic.

            The man grunted in pain, but then redoubled his attack on Nicolò, and Yusuf watched helplessly as the dagger pierced Nicolò’s neck.
            Nicolò cried out in pain, and Yusuf launched himself forwards, turned his blade and thrust it up, under the man’s arm, and sliced through the muscles on the underside of his arm. Blood gushed forward from the wound, washing over Nicolò’s chest and face, covering the gush of his own blood from the wound in his neck.
            “Die, you bastard,” Yusuf growled and pulled the man down off Nicolò, the dagger slipping free of the wound it had made as he fell.
            “Allah curse your name,” the man moaned and clung to Yusuf’s armour, trying to find strength enough to stab him with the dagger as well.
            “You go ask him to,” Yusuf growled and dragged the man all the way off Nicolò as the life blood flowed from the wound under his arm. Yusuf knew that a wound in that spot would bleed fast and freely, and there was no coming back from a wound like that.

            “Yusuf!” Nicolò cried out in alarm when the heavy tent cloth was lifted off Yusuf’s back and another man appeared in the opening, a sword in his hand.
            “Die, you bastard!” that man shouted and aimed his sword at Yusuf’s back.
            Nicolò’s warning had been just in time, and Yusuf rolled over sideways, pulling the first attacker around with him, and the sword landed in his body, instead of Yusuf’s. With a roar Yusuf turned as he rolled and swung his sword wildly. He felt it touch flesh, felt it slice into muscles and glance off bone, and as he rose to his knees, he saw that he had managed to cut their second attacker in the leg. The man tried to stay on his feet, but the cut leg gave out under him, and he threw himself towards Yusuf, his sword aimed at Yusuf’s chest.

            “Bastard!” Yusuf screamed as he rolled again and swung his sword wildly to block the blow, then turned his sword so that the second attacker landed on it. The man cried out as he was pierced by the curved blade, and Yusuf grunted as the man landed on top of him. Yusuf could feel the man’s blade slice into his side, carve open his skin deep enough to expose muscles. It had not pierced him, but this was a wound that he could not risk letting anyone see. He pushed at the man, made sure that his blood flowed from the wound all over Yusuf’s tunic and stained it. That would at least explain the blood, the cut in his clothes he would have to blame on the way the man had fallen.

            All around them the camp burst into action, as Yusuf’s fellow guard arrived at the scene and raised the alarm. Before long the bodies of the two would be assassins had been laid out, outside the tent. Nicolò stood in nothing but his under tunic with a blanket around his shoulders, shivering in the cold, as he told how the first attacker had suddenly appeared in the tent and had tried to slit his throat.
            Yusuf had seen the evidence on their bedding when he arrived that the man had succeeded in cutting Nicolò’s throat, only for the wound to heal before Nicolò died from it. That had been when Nicolò screamed for help. But the attacker’s blood all over Nicolò had disguised the pool of blood Nicolò had left on their bedding.

            The leader of the caravan was summoned, and he was horrified by the tale that he was told. Their fellow guards backed up Nicolò and Yusuf and said they had witnessed the two assassins antagonizing Yusuf and Nicolò all through the journey, and that earlier that evening the first man and Yusuf had come to blows.
            Most of the camp was up by then, and word of the attack travelled fast. By dawn, the two assassins had been buried in the sand, and the leader of the caravan had given Yusuf and Nicolò free pick of the assassins’ belongings, as compensation. The ruined tent, bedding and floor rug were all burnt, and the caravan leader gave them a bear fur, bigger than the one they had lost, to make up for the loss. The leader also agreed to pay them more than had originally been agreed upon, and that they would be free of their contract when they reached Bagram.

            The following day the leader released them from their contract, and Nicolò and Yusuf made their way to Bagram with the runners ahead of the main caravan.
            Their pouches were heavy with coin, and their new tent, bedding and fur were bouncing on the back of Nicolò’s camel. They hardly gave themselves time to say goodbye to the runners before they disappeared into the small city of Bagram.

            It was easy enough for them to find a place to sell their camels, and the man who bought the camels told them where to find a man who would sell them horses and saddles.
            Yusuf decided that they should spend the night in Bagram, and after they had enjoyed a decent meal, they found a room to rent for the night.
            Nicolò bought a bottle of liquor, and when they settled into their room for the night, Yusuf made sure that the door was securely locked.

            “Are you afraid that more of them will come after us?” Nicolò asked as he sat cross legged on the bed and drank his liquor from the bottle.
            “I’d rather be safe, than wake up with a sword at my neck,” Yusuf said and pulled on the door to make sure it was secure. Then he turned to sit down on the bed with Nicolò, watching the Genovese drink straight from the bottle.
            Nicolò held the bottle out to offer it to Yusuf, but Yusuf shook his head and waved it away.
            “I do not drink alcohol, it is forbidden,” he said and Nicolò blinked at him for a moment, then blushed.
            “Your faith…?” he asked, and Yusuf nodded his head.
            “My faith,” he answered and smiled at Nicolò.
            “You don’t mind if I do?” Nicolò asked and looked down at the bottle, and Yusuf laughed a little. He reached out and patted Nicolò’s shoulder.
            “I do not mind if you do. It is your body, and your mind, and if your god allows it, then by all means, enjoy it. Just be mindful of how you speak if you do get drunk?” Yusuf said and Nicolò looked up at him.
            “Mindful of how I speak…?” he started, then nodded his head. “Ah, you mean I should not let the alcohol get to my head? Well, I usually am a rather quiet drunk, so I don’t think you need to worry much.” Nicolò took another long swig from the bottle and then leaned back against the wall and reached out with his free hand to take Yusuf’s hand in his. “I’m drinking my courage, anyway. So, if this goes according to plan, you’ll be happy in a little while.”
            Yusuf tilted his head and quirked an eyebrow at Nicolò, but the Genovese refused to elaborate, so they sat in silence for a while, and Nicolò continued to drink his wine.
            He had finished about half the bottle when he got up on his knees and put the bottle on the floor, then pushed Yusuf down on the bed.
            Yusuf laughed softly as Nicolò lay on top of him, and kissed him with great passion. His hands found Yusuf’s nipples through his tunic and teased them. Yusuf answered the kisses with equal heat, a little amused at the taste of alcohol on Nicolò’s mouth. He had to admit he sort of enjoyed the half sweet taste, and it mingled perfectly with the taste of Nicolò himself.

            They had both grown hard and breathless, their tunics on the floor, when Nicolò rose to his knees between Yusuf’s legs and pulled Yusuf’s trousers off him.
            “Now,” Nicolò said, with a deep breath, and puffed his chest out. “I am going to show you the only talent I possess,” he continued, and scooted a little further back on the bed.
            “Oh, your only talent?” Yusuf answered and put his arm under his head to get a better view of Nicolò, bare chested and drunk, and his own naked body, his cock throbbing hard against his abdomen.
            “Yes, the only thing I have ever done that made anyone happy,” Nicolò insisted, and then he bent over, wrapped his hand around the base of Yusuf’s cock to make it rise, and then he wrapped his lips around the head.
            Yusuf gasped in surprise, his other hand shooting down to grab a hold of Nicolò’s hair, but the Genovese did not stop. He sank his mouth over Yusuf’s cock until the head hit the back of his throat, then he pulled back, sucking hard as he went.
            Yusuf bit back the moan that burst out of him, managed to keep it at a polite volume.

            The young man whom he had spent that one night with, had done this as well. But he had definitely not done it with the same passion, and talent as Nicolò was showing.

            Yusuf spread his legs wider, wanting to let Nicolò have all the space that he needed. Nicolò wrapped his other hand around Yusuf’s balls, massaged them lightly as he sank back down over the thick cock. This time, when the head hit the back of his throat, he angled his head a little and then Yusuf did cry out.
            Yusuf felt the head of his cock slide into Nicolò’s throat, the tight muscles vibrating around him, and his hand fisted in Nicolò’s long hair, his balls tightened at the feeling of Nicolò’s nose buried in his pubes.
            Nicolò purred and pulled back, and Yusuf was sure that he would come right there. The heat and the passion in Nicolò’s eyes were incendiary, and Yusuf realized that Nicolò was enjoying this just as much as Yusuf was. He also realized that he would have to learn to do this, to repay the favour. He wanted to know what it would feel like to have Nicolò’s cock buried in his throat like that.
            Yusuf reached out and grabbed his bag off the table next to the bed and found the little pouch of oils. He knew that they would need to replenish their supply before they left Bagram, but right now, he only needed a few drops.
            “Nicolò, give me your fingers,” Yusuf said and held out the small vial.

            Nicolò stopped his ministrations and let Yusuf’s cock fall from his lips as he looked wide eyed up at Yusuf.
            “You want me to…?” Nicolò asked without finishing the question, and Yusuf nodded his head.
            “Yes, Nicolò. I want you to play with me there too,” he answered, and nodded his head in encouragement.
            Nicolò held his hand out and Yusuf dripped a few drops of the oil onto his fingers, then Nicolò slid his hand back behind Yusuf’s balls.

            Yusuf spread his legs even more and lifted his knees, moaning into his forearm when Nicolò wrapped his hot mouth around his cock again, and then Nicolò’s slender fingers spread the oil around Yusuf’s tight pucker. He could feel the hesitation in Nicolò. They had after all never done this. Ever since Nicolò had offered himself to Yusuf, that was how they had enjoyed each other. Either touching, or Yusuf would be the one to penetrate. But now Yusuf wanted to feel Nicolò. Even if it was only his fingers, it was a place to start. The rest could come later, when Nicolò felt confident enough. He had after all needed to drink his courage to do what he was doing now.

            “Are you ready?” Nicolò asked, and Yusuf told him that he was more than ready.
            Yusuf bit his fist to smother his moans as Nicolò’s finger slid inside of him, Nicolò’s mouth hot around his cock, and the muscles of his throat sending bolts of lightning up and down Yusuf’s body, whenever Nicolò swallowed around him.
            Yusuf knew he would not last long. This was too pleasurable.
            Nicolò added another finger, and Yusuf could not stop his moans this time. He shivered and looked down, wanted to see Nicolò’s beautiful lips wrapped around him.
            Nicolò looked up, his green-grey eyes bright with his pleasure, and his own arousal. He thrust his fingers deep into Yusuf and Yusuf could feel him trying to find that little spot within him. After a few tries Nicolò found it, and rubbed hard, as Yusuf’s back arched off the bed, and he slammed his hands over his mouth so he would not wake the entire guesthouse with his howls.
            Light burst in his head, and his balls tightened until it almost hurt, and then he felt his release flooding through him, muscles tensing and relaxing as fast as his heart beat. He had no time to warn Nicolò, but to his surprise Nicolò did not pull away. Instead Nicolò closed his mouth even tighter around Yusuf and swallowed every burst of his seed that he had to offer.
            Yusuf was shocked with himself when he realized that seeing Nicolò swallow his seed heightened his orgasm even more. There was something so wonderfully decadent about the way that Nicolò milked him dry with his mouth, the look of pleasure on Nicolò’s face as he swallowed again and again. And the two fingers that were still thrusting into him were drawing the pleasure out until Yusuf was sure that his body would explode.

            Yusuf was reduced to a limp puddle of bones on the bed when Nicolò finally withdrew his fingers and crawled up on the bed to lie down next to Yusuf, pulling him into an embrace.
            “There. That’s my only talent,” Nicolò said with a drunk giggle, and Yusuf turned his head to look up at him.
            “I am almost afraid to ask who taught you that,” Yusuf said, and wiped the sweat from his lip, his hand trembling, all of his body trembling as he straightened his legs and turned to face Nicolò a little better.
            “His name was Geremia,” Nicolò said with a small sigh, then crawled all over Yusuf to get his bottle of wine and settled back down next to Yusuf. “He was a squire like me, at the same household. He was a year older than me, and he taught me to drink, and to gamble, and then he taught me how to suck cock.”
            Yusuf burst into laughter and rose up on his elbow and pulled Nicolò in for a heated kiss. He purred at the taste of his own seed on Nicolò’s mouth and was not surprised to realize that it thrilled him.
            “So, you were not quite the virgin you claimed to be,” Yusuf teased and Nicolò gave him a cheeky grin and took a swig from his bottle.
            “Sucking cock does not make me any less of a virgin when I met you,” Nicolò insisted, and Yusuf laughed again.
            “Alright, alright. You were a complete virgin. Had never even so much as touched a woman, much less another man,” Yusuf conceded, only for Nicolò to look at him with a cryptic look and answer him,
            “I never said I had never touched a woman. I’ve just never been with one.”
            Nicolò drained his bottle and reached out to put it on the table, then lay down and pulled Yusuf close to his chest. “Now, go to sleep, I’m tired.”
            “You’re drunk, that’s why you’re tired,” Yusuf objected but he lay down any way and closed his eyes, feeling content in the arms of his not so much of a virgin.
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He's all and he is more.