Archive of Our Own

“How bad is it?”

Nico looks up from the wound in his crewman’s leg, and smiles as he knots off the last stitch. “You cried like a child, not like a baby, so I predict you’ll live.”

Manuel, delirious on his own pain and the liberal measure of brandy Nico poured down his throat, smiles back sluggishly. “You’re a real jester, sir.”

Nico sobers, and claps Manuel on the shoulder. “You fought well. I mean that. Now rest up. If you can’t get to the mess for the evening meal I’ll have a plate brought to you.”

Manuel waves a sloppy salute. “Gentleman born, sir.”

Nico lets the untruth pass with another smile, and stands up to survey the rest of the deck.

The battle with the slavers was won some quarter of an hour ago; its bloody aftermath remains. Nico’s crew are scattered across the many necessary tasks: tending the wounded or being tended, looting their defeated enemy for riches and ammunition, watching over the prisoners - and, most important, freeing the slavers’ wretched cargo. 

It is important work, good work. And though Nico feels guilty every time he thinks it, it is work that is capable of producing a reward.

In theory - and at Andromache’s command - Nico is at sea to look for Quỳnh. He is captain of a ship so that he can meet sailors from all over Europa, and collect rumors and tales that might give them a clue where Quỳnh lies. Songs of a witch drowned at sea, or a location off the English coast held to be bad luck, or a patch of water with air rising as though somebody were breathing out on the ocean floor. Nico’s men are from a dozen different countries and speak twice as many languages, with a thousand different myths and stories among them. Nico knows them all like the back of his hand. 

Not one tells of Quỳnh.

It has been twenty-eight years of searching for a ghost and Nico has not a single sign of Quỳnh to show for it. Twenty-eight years without Yusuf by his side for longer than a day, as they have been ordered to search in opposite directions and let Andromache cast a wider net. Twenty-eight years of hiding his gifts from his crew as much as he can, trying to guide them into believing his uncanny fighting skills bring the ship good luck and not bad.  

Nico knows that sooner or later he will beg Andromache to give up this search. He wants to find Quỳnh, with all his heart, but this tactic is not working. How could it? Nico could have sailed right over her a hundred times without knowing it. 

It is the days like this one that make the search worth it: striking down fat, bloated leeches that feed off human suffering, and emerging with hundreds of men, women and children rescued from a life of slavery - and their yet-unborn descendants, too. 

Seizing enough booty to keep his crew loyal is a necessary support to the search for Quỳnh, besides.

Nico goes to the railing, and scrubs the gore off his hands in a bucket of seawater. The urgency of the fight and its immediate consequences has settled. It calls now for time and patience. He will need to learn where the slaves were taken from, chart a course to bring them home, decide what to do with the slavers who surrendered, have repairs made to both ships, take an inventory of the supplies captured… 

Nico splashes cold water on his face and stills his thoughts. Time, patience, and calm. First things first.

He flags down the closest man who does not already have his hands full - Gaspard, one of his favorite lieutenants - and dispatches him to fetch the senior surviving officer of the slave ship. Nico cannot afford to spare any of his own crew to captain the slave ship back to its home port; he will have to strike a deal with those who sailed her here. 

A deal with men he despises, who watched him slaughter their comrades, and who he would rather kill than trust. The odds are stacked against Nico’s success before he has begun.

He misses Yusuf.

Nico always misses Yusuf, an ache that never heals. He misses Yusuf at his back when he sleeps. He misses the sound of Yusuf’s laugh. He misses having Yusuf under his eyes where Nico can be sure he is safe. He misses Yusuf’s cock, hasn’t fucked or been fucked in a year and a half.

But he misses Yusuf the most when he must do their work without him.

Nico can endure the loneliness in exchange for Andromache’s comfort. He can endure the fear of losing Yusuf in exchange for the slimmest of chances he might find Quỳnh. The people Nico sets out to save cannot endure missteps or error, and Nico is never more likely to fail than when he does not have Yusuf at his side.

Yusuf has an easy charm with people that Nico lacks. Nico will have to threaten and pressure his captive into doing his bidding, and hope the compulsion will hold when he sets the man loose. Yusuf would be able to make a friend of him in an hour, and have him an eager confederate of their enterprise. And if all else failed, Yusuf could take command of the ship himself, and Nico would know it would reach home safely and well.

But Nico is alone and he must do this without Yusuf’s help. 

Nico sighs, and goes to his cabin to await the prisoner. If this officer is truly intolerable, Nico can kill him and try the next. 

He makes a few preparations to lay the ground to his advantage. His sword plainly visible at his hip, loose in the scabbard. A carafe of wine and fine glasses ready. The curtains around his bunk drawn tightly. A place for men of honor to do business, but an execution ground should Nico lose his patience. 

Though I cannot be said to be a flattering honest man, Nico quotes to himself, it must not be denied but I am a plain-dealing villain.

He stands with his back to the doors, pretending to be absorbed in his map table. Such intimidation has worked well for him before. It does not take long before he hears the doors open.

Three sets of footsteps enter, two firm and proud, one soft and shuffling, the rattle of chains overlaying it. A dull thunk as the prisoner is thrown to the floor. 

“Captain Genovese,” Gaspard addresses him respectfully. “This is the man you asked for.”

Nico turns to face the captured officer, and his eyes find Yusuf’s. 

It is impossible - incomprehensible - but there he is.

Nico thinks he stops breathing. He could die and revive and die again for watching Yusuf, because he cannot spare a thought for anything other than drinking in the sight of him. His hair and beard are both cut close, his skin darkened by the sun, he is thin as if his meals have not been enough, there is blood splattered across his clothes from fighting, and he is the most welcome thing Nico has ever beheld.

He is here, on Nico’s ship, in Nico’s cabin. 

Yusuf is also on his knees in the grip of two of Nico’s strongest men, and his hands and feet are shackled.

The realization prompts the further thought that they are not alone, and that if Nico wants to keep Yusuf’s identity to himself then he had better start acting like it.

He draws his sword, crosses the room in four swift steps, and flicks the point of the blade at Yusuf’s throat. Yusuf does not flinch, merely lifts his chin a little as if to invite it. His lips are parted and his eyes bright, never leaving Nico’s own.

Nico hoped that having naked steel between them would make it easier to remember who they are supposed to be. But he has held Yusuf at the end of his blade too many times for it to be strange. Far from it, for Yusuf is only more handsome offering up his life to Nico’s hands, sure it will be treated well. 

Nico has been silent too long. “We are going to negotiate, you and I,” he says softly, in the mercantile French most common in these waters. “Do I need my men to beat you into it, or will you hold good faith with me?”

Yusuf smiles, ever so slightly, where no-one but Nico is blessed enough to see it. “On my word as a gentleman, sir, deal fairly with me and I shall do the same.”

All of Nico’s crew tense, anticipating Nico’s displeasure. Another captive might have met it, but Nico would order his men to stand down if Yusuf had spat in his face. 

He smiles back and lowers his blade. “You are dismissed,” he tells Gaspard and the two holding Yusuf. He can see they don’t like it, but they know better than to question Nico.

They linger, though, watching Yusuf warily and looking to Nico to be sure he will not change his mind. Every moment they take to leave tears at Nico like a barbed whip. He cannot move or speak, for fear his composure will not hold an instant longer. He can only stand there with Yusuf kneeling at his feet, and do nothing. 

The door closes. Nico lifts his gaze for an instant to be sure they are alone. 

Then Yusuf is in his arms, his sword abandoned, and their mouths meet mid-air before Yusuf’s back has hit the floor. 

Yusuf throws his bound hands over Nico’s head and cups his neck. Yusuf’s body is made of sunlight beneath Nico’s own. His short beard scrapes at Nico’s cheeks. His scent fills Nico’s lungs and makes his head spin. Nico’s breath hitches and he realizes he is weeping. Yusuf is here. Across hundreds of miles of trackless ocean and months without even a single letter, they have found each other.

Yusuf breaks the kiss, fingers in Nico’s hair urging him up. “My love, my heart, I’ve missed you so-”

He speaks in Arabic. Nico follows suit without a thought. “Have you been safe? Well?”

“Well enough, better now, Nicolò, come back-”

Nico obeys and kisses him again. Yusuf’s lips are hot and slick and soft, mouth fitted desperately to Nico’s own. Nico, squirming to bring Yusuf’s body closer, slots a thigh between Yusuf’s hips. Yusuf moans into the kiss and bucks up, cock a thick line in his breeches. Nico’s attention turns there like a compass swinging north. 

Another hitch brings his own cock to rest alongside Yusuf’s and he ruts them together mindlessly. Yusuf groans, head digging back into the floor. Nico goes for the throat Yusuf showed to his blade, and claims it with teeth and tongue instead. Yusuf’s feet kick when Nico bites him, dragging his chains against the wood. 

The realization Yusuf is still shackled makes Nico pause. “I forgot to get the key off Gaspard.” 

“Don’t.” Yusuf clutches at him before Nico can rise even an inch. “Don’t go, I need you now, have me like this.”

“Then it will be some negotiation,” Nico teases. He pulls away and Yusuf all-but whimpers. Nico strokes his cheek reassuringly. “We need oil, beloved. I can’t have you quite like this.”

“Damn your reasonableness.” Yusuf is smiling, though, blinding and beautiful. 

Nico climbs to his feet and Yusuf follows, bound hands taking one of Nico’s as Nico draws them further into the cabin. It is not far to go, but slowed when Nico must move at Yusuf’s pace. They are slowed further when Yusuf pulls him to a standstill so he may bring Nico’s hand to his lips and caress it. Nico lets Yusuf drink his fill of him without a word in support of haste. For all he wants to fuck Yusuf now, he would not ask Yusuf to release him for the world.

When Yusuf allows them to move again, Nico finds the jar of oil he keeps for his skin on days when the wind roughens it not quite enough for their gift to heal. He is not sure how he wants Yusuf - whether to suck his cock first, whether to lay him down on Nico’s bunk or by the windows where the light is better, how to manage around the shackles…

Yusuf is ahead of him when he turns around again, breeches shoved down to his ankles. “Here, come here-”

Yusuf positions Nico where he pleases, until Nico can lift him off the floor, his arms around Yusuf’s waist. Yusuf is too thin, too easy for Nico to hold up, but that is a worry for later. Yusuf’s bare legs cross behind Nico’s back, chains hanging between them, his arms over Nico’s shoulders. He smiles. Leans in to kiss the tip of Nico’s nose. “Do it fast, Nicolò. Now.”

“Fast? I don’t have you for a year and a half, and you will not let me make this last?”

Yusuf shakes his head. “I want you, I want to come-”

“Oh, love, you should have said,” Nico murmurs. He sticks the fingers of one hand in the oil before reaching between Yusuf’s cheeks. 

Yusuf throws his head back when Nico slides the first finger inside him. Yusuf is tight, and burning hot, and Nico can feel his pulse where they are joined. He kisses Yusuf’s throat again when he pushes in another finger, and tugs Yusuf even closer so his cock rubs against Nico’s stomach through his shirt. 

“Aah-” Yusuf cries, cutting himself off. Nico growls into Yusuf’s throat.

“I want to hear you, love.”

“Your crew-”

“Will let me fuck all the prisoners I choose.”

“Oh?” Yusuf clenches around Nico’s fingers and rolls his hips. “Do this often, do you?”

Nico hums, pretending to think the question over. “Only when the prisoner is also my husband.”

“Lucky me.”

Nico smirks back at Yusuf’s grin and works his fingers deeper. Yusuf moans in bliss when Nico strokes over the sensitive nub inside him. With his hands bound Yusuf cannot slide one between them to stroke himself off, so Nico ensures there is enough to pleasure him without that help. Nico hitches Yusuf an inch higher so he can rub his cock on Nico’s stomach more readily and scissors his fingers apart.

“Look at me,” he orders, voice rough. When Yusuf does Nico seizes his mouth in another kiss. Yusuf’s arms tighten, one hand in Nico’s hair turning to a fist. Nico pulls his hand back to add a third finger, and Yusuf trembles. 

“You said fast,” Nico reminds him. “You did not want me to be gentle, did you? Did not want it soft, and sweet, and lingering-” He punctuates each word with a thrust of his fingers and pulls Yusuf in so his cock is forced against Nico’s stomach. “You wanted to be made to come. And you will, Yusuf, you will-”

Yusuf shouts Nico’s name and spills hot between them. Nico grins and stills his hand, holding Yusuf close as his release moves through him. Yusuf’s shoulders rise and fall with his breaths, and his forehead comes to rest on Nico’s. Nico lets Yusuf’s weight settle a little lower, a hint of pressure on Nico’s cock. He has ignored it all this time, consumed with Yusuf and nothing else, but he’ll have his turn soon. 

“Nicolò,” Yusuf exhales. “I love you, Nicolò. I have wanted to say that to you for…”

“I know. I always know.”

Nico does not linger on thoughts of why Yusuf could not say it earlier. Instead, he slides his fingers free and unbuckles his belt one-handed.

“Oh,” Yusuf says with interest as Nico’s knuckles graze the underside of his thighs. “What’s this, hm?”

“You got what you wanted,” Nico says, dragging his breeches down over his hips. “So this is for me.”

He slicks his cock with a handful of oil and pushes into Yusuf. 

Yusuf groans, head falling back. Nico shifts to balance Yusuf’s weight more evenly in both arms. “And I do not want it fast,” he tells Yusuf, before lifting him and then letting him slide onto Nico’s cock again.

Nico repeats the movement, setting a slow, deep rhythm up and down. Yusuf feels divine and takes him perfectly. He felt good around Nico’s fingers, and even better around Nico’s cock. 

Yusuf rocks his head upright so he can stare into Nico’s eyes, arms and legs gripping him tightly. Not tightly enough that Nico cannot move him as he wills, the taste of Yusuf’s desperation rich and dark on his tongue. 

Yusuf chokes when Nico impales him particularly hard. “How long will you-”

Nico chuckles. “Let’s find out.”

He can’t fuck Yusuf for hours like he wants to. Nico’s arms are already beginning to burn from the strain. Yusuf may be underweight, but he is still not a small man. Still, Nico has enough patience to make this last, and enough strength to see it through. 

He fucks Yusuf on his cock steadily, burying himself to the hilt every time. Yusuf writhes with it, overstimulated and lovely. His cheeks are flushed and his shirt rumpled, his eyes glittering. He is the very picture of a man well-fucked. Nico fucks him a little better. 

“My love, my love,” he murmurs restlessly, catching Yusuf’s mouth in a fleeting kiss when he is at just the right height. His cock throbs with need, balls going tight. 

“You have me,” Yusuf gasps, thighs tensing to help Nico lift him. “I’m here, I love you-”

“Yusuf-” Nico slams into Yusuf, hips shoving forward, cock white-hot with need. His mind goes blank, nothing left but desire and the satisfaction that is just out of his reach. 

“Come for me, my heart,” Yusuf says, hands running through Nico’s hair. Then he pulls it, hard. 

The pleasure inside of Nico goes taut as he obeys Yusuf without thought. His cock pulses, buried in Yusuf’s body. Yusuf surrounds him, his touch and scent and weight, and Nico clings to him as his legs begin to tremble. Pleasure gives way to fatigue swiftly, but without regret. 

“Bed?” Yusuf asks, but Nico has already taken the first step. He carries Yusuf to the bunk and lays him down carefully, slipping free from the enclosing circle made by Yusuf’s chained legs. 

“Key,” Nico mutters, patting one of Yusuf’s cuffs. Yusuf lies back, lips turned up, as Nico fumbles to put his clothing to rights and smooth his hair. “How do I look?”

“Nicely tousled.”

Nico hits him with the pillow and goes to the door.

Gaspard and Ade stand guard outside. Ade’s skin is too dark to show a blush, and Gaspard has been with Nico too long to show surprise at anything he does, but there is no chance they did not hear most of what went on. 

Gaspard hands over the key to Yusuf’s shackles without prompting, and nods when Nico demands two meals befitting an honored guest. “Negotiations going well, then, Captain?”

Nico narrows his eyes. “I am confident the people on that ship will be returned home safe, yes.”

“Oh, that’s good to know. That puts my mind at ease, I can tell you. Keep it up, sir.”

Nico shuts the door before he cannot avoid concluding that Gaspard was not discussing the captaincy of the captured ship. 

Yusuf is just as Nico left him, spread out on the bunk as much as his chains will allow. His fingers pluck at his loose white shirt in suggestion, hitching it higher as Nico approaches. Nico unlocks the shackles swiftly and drops them to the floor. Yusuf grins and shrugs his shirt over his head, then reaches out for Nico’s. 

Nico strips with Yusuf’s hands sliding over bared skin, then goes back to tug Yusuf’s breeches off his ankles. Nico rolls into the narrow bunk, pulling Yusuf’s slender weight to lie atop him.

Nico runs both hands down Yusuf’s back. He can feel Yusuf’s bones easily, and frowns. “You have not been eating.”

“I saved my rations for the children,” Yusuf says softly. Nico hums understanding, though his heart breaks with pity for all the horrors aboard that ship. He kisses Yusuf’s close-cut hair. 

“Al-Tayyib,” Nico calls him, and feels Yusuf smile.

“Do not think I did not notice your ship is called the Generous.”

“As if I would ever captain a ship not named for you.”

The Generous is the fourth ship Nico has claimed for his own since Andromache sent them to sea. Her predecessors under his command were the Josepha, the Sun, and the Scimitar. He will need another shortly; he cannot be the same man for too long without arousing suspicion. 

Reminded, he turns to Yusuf, though he is sure he already knows the answer. “Have you found anything?”

Yusuf shakes his head. “Nothing. Not a whisper, not a trace. You?”

“The same.”

“God,” Yusuf whispers. “What Andromache must be going through…”

“We will succeed,” Nico says, though the words are hollow. Yusuf does him the courtesy of not pointing it out, though he must know it as well as Nico.

Yusuf sighs, finds Nico’s hands, and laces their fingers together. “You want me to sail that ship home, don’t you?”

“I want many things,” Nico confesses. “I want Quỳnh returned to us. I want Andromache to know happiness once more. I want to never leave you again. I want to go someplace safe we four can call our own, and do nothing but sleep and eat and fuck for a year.” He squeezes Yusuf’s hands. “But I cannot have any of that, so yes. Today, I want you to sail that ship home.”

“Not today. The repairs will not be finished in time for that.” Yusuf lifts his head, a spark of light coming back into his face. “I am afraid I must trespass on your hospitality overnight.” 

Nico’s heart leaps skyward. “If you insist. I shall have my men throw you in the brig shortly.”

Yusuf laughs, and tears fill Nico’s eyes at the sound. He pulls Yusuf’s hand to his mouth and kisses the back of it, paper-thin skin warm and silken. “I’ve missed your laugh.”

“It is hard to laugh when you are not there to hear it.”

“Everything seems hard, sometimes, when you are not there.”

Yusuf leans down to press their foreheads together. “But I am here now. We have a roof over our heads and a bed to ourselves. We are safe from harm, and-”

A knock at the door interrupts him.

Yusuf grins. “And unless I am mistaken, that is our dinner.”

The door opens a yard, and a tray is slid inside, before it closes again. At no time does Nico see the man who did it, and the man must likewise see nothing within the cabin. 

“Your crew are well-trained,” Yusuf observes wryly. 

“Gaspard is a cunning man, and Ade speaks a little Arabic. I fear they know you are not remotely my prisoner.” Nico shrugs, and slides out from under Yusuf to fetch the tray. “This ship and I were soon to part ways, regardless. I have been her captain too long.”

“What will you call the next one?”

Nico turns, tray in his hands. Yusuf has moved to sit at Nico’s table, lounging nude in a carved chair Nico stole from the king of Spain’s treasure fleet. His hands slide down his parted thighs, and back up, before he cups his soft cock as if displaying it for Nico.

“Keep behaving like that, and it will be the Concubine.”

Yusuf laughs again, and kicks out the other chair for Nico to sit. 

The food is hot, freshly made if not from fresh ingredients, and at least at sea there is no shortage of salt. Nico gives Yusuf the lion’s share of the stewed beef and pickled greens and dried flatbread, and watches him eat with nearly as much pleasure as if he had prepared it himself. One meal will not put all the flesh back on Yusuf’s bones where it belongs, but it is a start. Nico eats his own share without tasting it. All his attention is on Yusuf’s lips curved around his silver fork, the delicate turn of his wrist as he lifts a bite to his mouth. Nico fixes the sight of him in his mind. He will need all the memories he can hold, once Yusuf is gone.

Nico draws in a deep breath, and pushes that thought to the side. Yusuf is right: they are housed, safe, and fed - and together. Four good reasons to have joy. 

Yusuf smiles, laying his fork down. “That look says you have more indulgence to offer me.”

Nico runs his tongue over his lip. “Since you mention it, I am yet to have you in my bed.”

“Indulgence indeed,” Yusuf says. He rises from his chair and walks to the bunk, hips swaying invitingly. 

Nico thinks it over before he can help it. As a junior officer aboard a slave ship, Yusuf would not have had a bed. Likely, Yusuf slept in a hammock in a hold with forty other men. And with the slaves freed and all in need of a decent berth, Yusuf as captain is likely to share with more men, not fewer. 

Yes, indulgence, Nico decides. If Yusuf must leave for hardship come morning, he will leave on a good meal, a good night’s sleep, and a good fuck. 

He pours two glasses of the wine so far untouched, and brings them and the bottle to the bed where Yusuf waits. 

“Getting me drunk, Captain Genovese?” Yusuf lilts, accepting his glass and sipping with his eyebrows raised innocently. 

Nico sits at Yusuf’s feet and runs a hand up his calf. “Perhaps. I am a wicked, devilish pirate, after all.”

They drink companionably for long minutes. Yusuf’s presence is a pleasure all to itself, and Nico’s hand feasts upon his skin and his eyes upon his face. The wine is excellent, too, especially when Yusuf sits up and trades kisses with Nico, the taste of it passing between them. One kiss leads to another, slow and unhurried between mouthfuls of wine. Eventually the wine runs low, and the kisses more frequent. Then the empty glasses are laid aside in favor of other pursuits. 

This time Nico puts Yusuf on his back and kneels over him. His hands take in the soft fuzz on Yusuf’s head, hair cut too short to curl as it should. His lips claim Yusuf’s shaven jaw, delicate bone exposed as it has not been in decades. Yusuf’s hands come up to Nico’s shoulders in return, thumbs stroking down either side of his neck.

Nico drowns in Yusuf, and he sobs from nowhere, overcome. Yusuf hushes him tenderly. “I know, my heart,” he murmurs, his voice equally rough with emotion. He squeezes Nico’s shoulders in reassurance. “I’m here.”

Nico kisses him, never mind that they kissed a dozen times or more with their wine. Yusuf is here. He is warm and pliant under Nico’s body. His thighs are firm and solid between Nico’s knees. His tongue meets Nico’s own in the middle of their kiss.

And he has not had his cock sucked in a year and a half. Nico intends to set that to rights without further delay.

Nico crawls down the bunk, dragging his lips over Yusuf’s chest as he goes. Yusuf hums pleasure and arches up into Nico’s touch. Nico circles his tongue around one nipple, and pinches the other to make Yusuf gasp. Nico’s hands cover Yusuf’s ribs - still too prominent - before he dips a thumb into Yusuf’s navel. He bites the crest of Yusuf’s hip, earning another gasp, and then takes Yusuf’s cock into his mouth.

He is still mostly soft, but the frantic pulse against Nico’s teeth says he will not be so for long. Nico savors every sensation; the musk of Yusuf’s skin, the taste of him, the weight on his tongue. For a long moment he does nothing else. Even after centuries together, the months and years apart drag at him. If their reunion will only last a day, Nico will make the most of it.

He makes the seconds turn slow and golden like honey. Yusuf’s breaths flutter, and his hands come to rest in Nico’s hair. This time Yusuf does not rush him, but gives himself over to Nico without a word. 

Nico worships Yusuf’s cock as he deserves, as Nico knows he loves. It is a rare pleasure, even when they are not separated by an entire ocean. Nico settles himself comfortably, half-seated on Yusuf’s lower legs, and narrows his focus to the hardening cock in his mouth. 

He sucks, lingering, thorough. Rubs his tongue along the underside. Relaxes his throat, and presses his lips to the curls at Yusuf’s groin. Yusuf becomes everything, as he always should be. Every movement, every cut-off breath, every thought, Nico gives up in Yusuf’s name.

“Nicolò,” Yusuf murmurs eventually, not a question or a demand. It is simply too long since Yusuf has last said it.

Nico lifts his head. “Drink more wine,” he urges. “I intend to be here a while.”

Yusuf laughs and obeys, sitting up for a moment to pour himself another generous glass. Nico smiles, and fills his mouth with Yusuf’s cock once more. Then he slips a hand between Yusuf’s thighs. 

“Yes,” Yusuf invites, and they shift together so Yusuf may spread his legs. They both sigh when Nico slides a finger into Yusuf’s slick and open hole. Now Nico is surrounded by Yusuf, enmeshed with him. His own cock throbs with it, rising hard against his belly, enough to distract him from Yusuf for a moment. Nico puts it aside as meaningless - he knows the pleasure he wants. He strokes at Yusuf’s inner flesh delicately, rewarded when Yusuf lifts his hips to push his cock deeper into Nico’s mouth. 

The light in the cabin turns pink, then orange, then crimson as the sun lowers in the sky. Nico does not let the dusk hasten him. He can love Yusuf just as well in the dark. 

He does, until Yusuf has emptied his glass and begun to rock his hips with urgency. Nico changes pace at once to match him. If Yusuf is sated with luxuriating, and wants now to finish it, who is Nico to deny him?

Nico brings Yusuf off with lips and tongue and hand. It is almost effortless, for how well Nico knows him. He gives Yusuf a second finger, stretching his hole wider, and curls them. Yusuf shouts pleasure and thrusts up into Nico’s mouth. Nico swallows his cock, and bobs his head up and down the whole length of it, root to tip. Yusuf likes it fast, relentless. Nico obliges, overwhelming Yusuf with every art at his command - the slightest scrape of his teeth, sucking deeply, breath an afterthought. 

Yusuf’s arousal builds, and Nico pulls him along. When he finally falls over that edge, Yusuf goes easily, spilling down Nico’s throat with a low cry. Both his hands fly up to hold Nico’s head in place. Nico revels in Yusuf’s release, in his satisfaction, and does not move until Yusuf is done with him. 

Yusuf’s cock softens slowly on Nico’s tongue, and his body relaxes into Nico’s bed. Nico flicks his eyes up to watch the way Yusuf exhales the last bit of tension in him, all but melting into Nico’s sheets. 

If Nico could have this and nothing else, however long they live, he would be content.

Yusuf combs through Nico’s hair, and gently draws him up. “Your turn.”

They reach for Nico’s cock together. Nico’s eyes roll back at Yusuf’s touch. The warmth of their hands ignites a bonfire in Nico’s stomach. At the first stroke he is consumed entirely, alight and lost. 

“Yusuf,” he chokes out. He forces himself to focus on Yusuf’s face, open and beloved, his wide smile and the dark glitter of lust in his eyes. He wants to know this sight until he sees Yusuf again. 

“Nicolò,” Yusuf murmurs in return. He runs his free hand down Nico’s back, caress only stoking the flames. “Come for me, my heart,” he says, just as he did the first time tonight. He squeezes Nico’s cock and twists his wrist. “Now.” 

Nico obeys him helplessly once again, desire snapping taut. The fire turns all to white.

Nothing ever pleases him as much as pleasing Yusuf.

When the world resolves, Nico’s cheek is at rest upon Yusuf’s chest. Yusuf’s hands idly map Nico’s shoulders, and one leg is thrown over both of Nico’s as if to keep him there. Yusuf is murmuring a thread of poetry in a language Nico does not know, perhaps something he picked up on his own ship. Yusuf’s skin against his sates a hunger Nico had almost forgotten for how constantly he feels it in Yusuf’s absence. Here, now, all is right.

“I love you,” he says. Yusuf lifts one of Nico’s hands and kisses the back of it in reply. Then Nico’s knuckles, his fingers, then turned over to reach his palm. From there Yusuf’s lips grace Nico’s wrist, and then he begins the cycle anew.

Beyond the cabin, a fiddler strikes up, strains of music floating to them. Lively, meant for dancing; something Irish, Nico thinks. 

After a moment Yusuf begins to tap his fingers along to the tune. “You have a skilled musician on your crew.”

“I have several. They must share the one instrument, though. When they each had their own no one slept for a week.”

Yusuf laughs. The music swells, phrases leaping one after another. Soon Yusuf’s toes are tapping against the sheets as well. 

When Nico slides from the bed Yusuf follows, hand still entwined with Nico’s. The light is low, the sky a deeper blue every moment. The deck lanterns outside do little more than set aglow the frosted glass in Nico’s cabin door. They don’t need it. Free hands find shoulders in the dark, and feet find their rhythm. 

They turn about Nico’s cabin, the music lifting them along. Long ago they lost the habit of leading or following. They move as one, bodies matched in every way as surely as they are in battle. The joy of it after so long alone almost makes Nico weep again. 

The song ends and a new one begins, this one distinctly Spanish. Yusuf and Nico step into it just as easily as the first. After a while a singer joins the fiddle, Swahili words weaving in and out of the melody. They are unpracticed, unpolished, and it is clear they do not know the song they sing to, but they sing all the same. Nico does not know the voice, and takes it for one of the many they rescued today.

Nico’s hand tightens on Yusuf’s shoulder. “This is what gives me hope,” he confides. “There is more to mankind than hatred. And a reason for us to be here.”

Yusuf draws Nico in, and leans their foreheads together. “Of course there is, Nicolò. You did fine work today.”

“And you? What were you doing aboard a slave ship?”

Yusuf chuckles. “I was halfway through starting a mutiny before you attacked.”

“What a terrible waste of a perfectly good conspiracy. My apologies.”

Yusuf knocks his nose against Nico’s. “That ship is going home weeks earlier thanks to you.”

“And better provisioned,” Nico says. “I will see you off well-supplied.”

“Will your crew share so willingly? We will survive with what we have. Do not cause trouble for yourself.”

“A number of my crew are freed slaves themselves. I would have more trouble if I refused to share.”

“You named your ship well, then.”

Nico smiles. “I know.”

The music fades in and out as the fiddle changes hands. The windows over the sea turn black, and the glass in the door brightens as more lanterns are lit. Yusuf and Nico continue dancing, fast and then slow, pressed together and then held apart. Anyone would see them, if the door opened. There is nowhere to hide and their nakedness has no excuse that would survive questioning. Nico does not care. He has killed more than a whole ship of pirates in Yusuf’s name, and will again. 

Nico takes Yusuf back to the bunk when the music ends. Part of him does not want to waste time on sleeping. Another part wants nothing more than to fall into dreams in Yusuf’s embrace. Combined with the desire to see Yusuf well-rested, it is an easy contest.

The bunk is wide enough to fit them both, if barely so. His back to Yusuf’s chest, the press of Yusuf’s skin against his from neck to ankle, Nico all but floats. Yusuf’s arm holds him close, his fingers curled over Nico’s heart. All is right. 

Nico barely knows he has slept before the dawn is waking him. One of Yusuf’s legs has come between his, and Nico has sweated beneath the blankets from his warmth. Yusuf does not seem to mind, for the drowsy way he nuzzles at Nico’s hair.

The cabin brightens as the sun rises. They have much to do that cannot be denied. Last night, they stole for themselves; today, two ships require their attention. 

They separate and dress slowly. Nico cannot lift his gaze from Yusuf’s skin, sliding higher as each piece of it is covered. Yusuf’s eyes are on Nico likewise, and Nico knows he will be committed to paper as soon as Yusuf gets a chance. 

Yusuf buttons his shirt with regret, and the weight of Nico’s sword at his hip drags at him. They continue all the same. Eventually they are as they met yesterday - the feared Captain Genovese and his prisoner. 

They cannot linger any further. Nico goes to the door and sets his fingers on the handle. “Ready?”

“Never. But, yes.”

Nico does not look back as he strides from the cabin. The morning watch attends to him sharply and Nico allows business to take over his thoughts. He takes an account of the repairs made so far, and orders the remaining work to be undertaken. He drinks a mug of broth for his breakfast. He accepts his quartermaster’s report of the supplies already transferred to the other ship and his requests for replacements at the next port. He welcomes those rescued who wish to join the crew of the Generous. 

Yusuf is equally busy taking on his command and preparing to depart. Nico is constantly aware of him, glimpses at a distance or the sound of his voice above the waves and creaking of ropes and sails. Twice or thrice their eyes meet for too long, and Nico must put his hand to his sword as if threatening Yusuf to get back to work. 

The crew do not ask how Nico fared with the negotiations last night, and do not attempt to put Yusuf back in chains. 

When all is done, Nico crosses to Yusuf’s ship to see him off. Yusuf stands at the wheel, surrounded by compliant officers and freed captives. He has donned a coat, likely belonging to the previous captain, and looks handsome in it. 

They cannot smile to see each other. But Yusuf’s eyes shine, and the tilt of his head is perhaps a touch too saucy for a stranger. “Are you here to put your blade to my throat again, good sir?”

“If you wish it. But I think we are past that, are we not?”

Yusuf nods. They cannot say anything else, with two ships watching them. This cool farewell will have to serve.

Yusuf clears his throat. “I took the liberty of leaving a small gift in your cabin, Captain Genovese, in appreciation of all you have done for us.”

Nico’s heart leaps to choke him. “I see.”

Yusuf’s eyelid shivers in a fleeting wink. “Do I have your leave to go?”

No. Stay with me. Come back to bed. Don’t go where I can’t follow. “You do. Safe journey.”

For all Yusuf asked Nico’s permission, it is Nico who must turn his back and walk away. Must take his eyes off Yusuf despite every instinct screaming at him to go straight back to his side. 

Nico’s hands ball into fists to hide their trembling as he boards the Generous. He hears Yusuf’s shout to set his crew into motion. Nico cannot speak, but waves a hand to put his own crew to the task. Yusuf’s ship is released, her sails lowered, and they steer away from each other. 

The greatest of blessings is already over. Nico stares, almost disbelieving, as Yusuf’s ship grows smaller and smaller. How could he have chosen this?

For Quỳnh, he reminds himself. For Andromache. For every soul aboard that ship who deserves to reach home safely. 

Between one blink and the next, Yusuf is gone. 

Nico swallows grief. Numbly, he checks the watch has all in hand, and then goes to his cabin. 

The memory of Yusuf here is strong enough to strike him down. Nico ends with his back to the closed door, a heap on the floor. At that spot he held Yusuf aloft to fuck him, and on those chairs they sat and dined. The empty tray is still there on the table. The bedsheets are rumpled from where they slept.

And there is a folded white paper on the pillow. 

Trembling, Nico stands and crosses the cabin. It is a letter, many pages thick, sealed with wax, and addressed in Yusuf’s elegant Arabic handwriting. 

My Nicolò - for when you can bear my absence no longer. Your Yusuf.

Nico’s hand covers his mouth. Yusuf cannot have written the letter on Nico’s ship, had neither the time nor the paper and ink. He must have been carrying it with him, for weeks or months, hoping that one day he would be able to deliver it. 

Nico tries to be rational, to save the letter until it is truly needed. It is a gift he does not mean to waste, and the day he woke in a shared bed is the best of all the days ahead until he sees Yusuf again. He may regret in future that he does not have Yusuf’s words waiting for him.

But his nails dig under the seal all the same. 

My dearest love, he reads. Despite the dedication of my note, I wager it has been mere minutes since we last saw each other… 

Nico laughs aloud, sorrow held at bay, and reads on.