#tnkb

It’s one of those ways Nicolo takes care of him. He has done similar things for him as well, although not the same. In the river, he has washed him clean, has promised not to be angry or judgemental about the body gifted this cherubim love. Every part of his Nicolo is worthy of worship, even the parts he may not enjoy so strongly about himself. He loves him. Adores him. And that means all of him, even in the times of the year when Nicolo curls up in a ball and demands not to be seen. They look after each other, including in ways others might scoff at.

“I am still amazed you allow me to do this,” Nicolo says. His voice is rough, low. It’s a beautiful voice, Yusuf thinks, and he will never grow tired of hearing it. “I’ve hurt you, my heart. So many times. And although I would never intentionally cause you harm again, it amazes me that you allow me to take care of you in this way. I wouldn’t, but- but I could hurt you, with this.” 

He holds the straight razor in his hand as though it’s the most natural thing in the world. It fits his palm. Nicolo is comfortable with many weapons, even if this isn’t one of them, and it shows in how unafraid he is of the sharp edge. He could hurt himself, just as easily as he could hurt someone else. There’s safety in the danger. After all they’ve been through at the hands of others, at the hands of each other, Yusuf knows he’s safe here. If something were to happen, when he’s at his most vulnerable, Nicolo would protect him. In a heartbeat, he knows he would. 

“I trust you with everything I am, and everything I could ever be.”

Nicolo kisses his hips, one after the other, and gently spreads his legs open for him. Nicolo’s hands on his thighs are gentle, careful with him, but firm to hold him still. Sitting on the bank of the stream like this, he’s especially vulnerable. Watching Nicolo set down the blade to cup his hands, splash the water up Yusuf’s body to make him ready, is a gift. It’s easier when he’s wet. He knows that from helping Nicolo shave his own face bare, and the times when he does this, just to see what it looks like, feels like. He’s more sensitive naked like this, too, something he knows his Nicolo appreciates. 

“Be still now, Yusuf.”

He obeys without a second thought. Then, the blade. With such care it aches, Nicolo presses its sharp edge to his skin, and doesn’t cut him. Instead he shaves him, smooths across the stubble with his palm as though his bare body is something to be revered. That’s the way it always feels with Nicolo. There is nothing but the affection, the adoration, the love. The same he gives to Nicolo is returned, and though this is not a relationship built on giving and taking, it’s telling of their love how easily they give this kind of love, this kind of worship to each other. They are each other’s altars now. Whatever they had in the past is nothing in comparison to the now. 

“Are you with me?”

Yusuf smiles down at him, loves the way Nicolo smiles back as though Yusuf is his sun. If that’s so, Nicolo is his moon, and between the two of them, they own the skies. The heavens belong to them, belong to Nicolo, and the way he carefully washes the blade in the stream, as well as continuously cups his hands to splash water and clear it all away. Keep him clean. This is as much a cleaning ritual as it is another way they love one another. Yusuf watches him do this. Watches him shave him, feel him, touch his body. He instinctively responds to the way Nicolo holds him in his calloused hand, and the gentle touches across his skin. It’s just for them. 

“I need you to be still, Cuore,” Nicolo murmurs. “You keep twitching in my palm.”

“I can hardly help it when you touch me.”

Nicolo puts down the blade, and Yusuf worries he has made this more than it is. He understands that not everything has to do with these pleasures of the flesh, and yet. It’s hard not to want it from these touches. Should Nicolo be angry, or unwelcoming of the advances, or simply not in the mood, he would never push him on the matter. But then, Nicky replaces his hand with his lips, and looks up at him through his lashes. 

“We’re in the middle of something,” Yusuf argues, even as he curls a hand around the back of Nicolo’s head. “You cannot just stop for this.”

Then Nicolo pulls away enough to speak. “You were needy, and if you’re moving, I might hurt you. Besides-” he pauses to trace a vein with his tongue, and then smiles. “I enjoy making you feel good.”

“I’ll have to return the favor when we’re finished.”

“Of course, my heart.”

He can’t help the warmth in his chest at the knowledge he’s allowed to do so. Nicolo has complex feelings about himself, about his body and his love, in a way that means he isn’t always in a headspace that allows for reciprocation, especially when it comes to the specific intimacy of using their mouths to taste, feel, pleasure. Nicolo can be skittish about it, and Yusuf is more than willing to show patience about it. All that matters is having Nicolo at his side, no matter how. 

“Thank you.”

Nicolo hums a laugh, making him twitch at the sensation. But still, Yusuf keeps his hips still and cups Nicolo’s cheek, caresses him as he’s pleasured because the most thrilling part of it all is the fact that it’s the love of his life using his mouth to make him feel good. 

“I love you.”