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Quynh knows something she shouldn’t. Nicolò doesn’t know what specifically that something is, but he guesses it has something to do with him based on the way she is staring at him from across the fire. She was acting strange while helping him prepare their evening meal, too, now that Nicolò thinks about it.
The four of them left Meissen this morning, heading north to – in Andromache’s words – “see what John and Otto are doing” in Brandenburg an der Havel. Nicolò doesn’t know if they have been summoned by an advisor of the court or by someone outside of it looking to sow discord. Nicolò has his doubts about what they are doing. He likes the women, and they haven’t led him astray yet. Nicolò thought he was fighting for the greater good once before, though. Nicolò followed blindly and mistook his hatred for justice and destroyed a civilization. Nicolò has done a lot of soul-searching and a lot of work to unlearn a lot of things about himself and the world since then, but he still worries about falling into that trap.
Nicolò wants to trust Andromache and Quynh, though. He feels good about the work the four of them have done together so far. Yusuf trusts them as well, and Nicolò trusts Yusuf. If his partner were to voice any doubt, Nicolò would cut and run at a moment’s notice. Yusuf believes what they’re doing is right, however, so Nicolò is content to weather his moments of fear and doubt and to continue on as the four have them have been going.
The four of them are spending their first night of this particular trip on the road. They made camp several hours ago, have eaten already, and are now sitting around a fire in a silence that was comfortable but is slowly sliding into awkward.
As if thinking the same thing, Andromache leans over to Quynh. “I thought you were going to talk to him while you made food,” she whispers in her partner’s ear, although Nicolò is close enough to hear it.
Quynh’s lips thin. “It didn’t come up.”
Andromache’s brow furrows further. “On what earth was it going to come up without you bringing it up?”
“Is everything alright over there?” Yusuf asks.
Andromache and Quynh both look at him. After a moment, Andromache resumes staring at Quynh. Quynh turns her attention on Nicolò. She sits up straighter, her shoulders gaining some tension.
“Nicolò,” she starts slowly. “Do you know that Yusuf was looking to hire a prostitute in our last city?”
“I do,” Nicolò replies calmly. “That was for me.”
“For…” Quynh’s look of concern intensifies. “For you.”
Nicolò nods. “Yes.”
“A female prostitute,” Quynh clarifies.
“Yes,” Nicolò repeats.
“Hmm,” says Andromache. “Well, we answered one question, but unfortunately now I have several more.”
Nicolò rolls his eyes. “I have never been with a woman, and Yusuf thinks this is a problem.”
He hadn’t wanted to tell the women about this because it isn’t any of their business. Andromache and Quynh don’t need to know about his and Yusuf’s sex life. Nicolò likes the women, but he hasn’t known them for that long in the grand scheme of things. He is rethinking keeping this from them now, though, based on the looks the women turn on Yusuf. It seems the pair of them think Yusuf is being as ridiculous as Nicolò thinks Yusuf is being.
Nicolò understands where Yusuf is coming from. He and Yusuf have been together romantically for fifty years now. These fears first overtook Yusuf around their fifteenth anniversary, and then their twenty-fifth and their fortieth. Nicolò isn’t the only one with doubt inside himself. Yusuf frets now and again about his place in Nicolò’s life, if he’s worthy of this love, if Nicolò wouldn’t be happier with somebody else, even for a short time. Nicolò knows not to take it personally. It isn’t a reflection on him personally, and he knows by now how to humor Yusuf and when to put his foot down with his partner. This particular flight of fancy is strange, but Nicolò knows Yusuf is doing it because he cares about Nicolò and worries about Nicolò.
“I’m not saying it’s a problem,” Yusuf says defensively. “I just…”
He wilts under Nicolò, Andromache, and Quynh’s combined stares. Yusuf looks down at his hands and sighs before continuing.
“I don’t want Nicolò to miss out on anything because of me,” Yusuf says. He looks up at Nicolò then. Nicolò holds his gaze.
“It’s a vast world, and we have so much time in it,” Yusuf continues. “I want Nicolò to have the option to try new things, even if those experiences don’t involve me.”
“That’s sweet, I guess,” Quynh says, still looking confused.
Andromache puts her elbows on her knees. She balls both her hands into fists, then sets her chin on them. Her eyes narrow and her brow furrows like she is strategizing.
“How many women have you been with, Yusuf?” she asks.
“Three women and three men besides Nico,” Yusuf replies. Nicolò knows that symbolism tickles Yusuf, that the seventh person Yusuf slept with truly embodied infinity and completion.
Andromache nods, assessing the situation before turning her attention on Nicolò. “And you?”
“Two men besides,” Nicolò says. It takes all of his strength to ignore the look he feels Yusuf shoot him.
“Six to two, good,” Andromache says. “It isn’t like you’re trying to even out fifty to two, or two hundred to two.”
“Or two thousand to two,” Quynh chimes in.
“Is that what we’re up to?” Andromache asks, turning to look at her partner.
Quynh shakes her head. “I don’t think so.”
“Good,” Andromache says again. “I might actually feel bad, forgetting that many people.”
She shakes her head, her eyes rolling skyward before returning her attention to the men. “And you are a pair of idiots, looking to hire a prostitute when you are traveling with two women who would bed you for free.”
Nicolò’s breath catches. He glances at Yusuf to find Yusuf looking at him already. Nicolò returns his attention to Andromache. “Are the two of you volunteering?”
“I’m not,” Quynh replies. “I would watch, though, if you want an audience.”
“Nicolò? Do we want an audience?” Andromache asks. Her sky blue eyes sparkle with mischief and with the light dancing off of their fire.
Yusuf curls his left hand around Nicolò’s right wrist and squeezes.
“Is this a serious offer, or are you having fun at Nicolò’s expense?” Yusuf asks warily.
Andromache shrugs and catches Nicolò’s eye. “Well that depends on what Nicolò has to say about it.”
“I will consider it,” Nicolò tells Andromache to be polite.
Andromache smiles. “No, you won’t,” she counters.
Nicolò shrugs. He probably won’t. It’s an interesting thought to roll around, like wondering what the world would be like if the sky were brown and the soil blue. Thinking about it doesn’t upset Nicolò, but he knows he is good with Yusuf and Yusuf alone.
He would be if Yusuf would pay attention to him, at least. When Nicolò undresses and gets under the blanket of their shared bedroll that night, he is greeted by Yusuf’s back. Yusuf is lying on his right side for a change. Nicolò thinks maybe his partner wants to be held for once, so he lays on his right side as well and puts his left arm around Yusuf’s waist.
Yusuf scoots forward, pulling away from Nicolò’s embrace.
Nicolò sighs and rolls onto his back, staring up at the canvas tent above them.
“I said many things to embarrass myself this evening,” Nicolò begins. “Will you tell me which of them exactly has you upset tonight?”
Yusuf rolls onto his back as well, arms crossed over his chest. His left bicep brushes against Nicolò’s right.
“Tell me more about these two men you were apparently with before me,” Yusuf demands. “Because that’s two more than it has been every time I asked you about it.”
Nicolò groans. He pulls his balled-up cloak out from under his head and puts it over his face.
“I panicked,” he admits, voice muffled by the fabric.
“Ah,” says Yusuf, his voice losing all its venom. “Not so fun being put on the spot in front of them, is it?”
“No, it is not,” Nicolò agrees.“Why is that?”
“Andromache and Quynh are older than our feeble minds can comprehend,” Yusuf replies, a glimmer of amusement in his tone. “They appear as women, and they act like us, but they have been that way for thousands of years now. Of course it feels strange to be looked at and seen by them.”
“I don’t care,” Nicolò says, tracking back to their conversation’s main point. “I truly don’t care that you are the only person I have ever slept with, no matter how much you might think otherwise. But saying it out loud to them felt like too much. They were already judging me for never being with a woman. I was worried about what else they might see if I told them I have only ever been with you.”
Nicolò feels Yusuf roll over beside him, and then he feels a hand on the left side of his neck. The hand slides under the fabric and moves up to cradle Nicolò’s jaw. When Nicolò lifts his cloak off his face, Yusuf presses to make Nicolò turn his head; Nicolò meets Yusuf’s eyes and finds them full of compassion.
“Nobody is judging you,” Yusuf says gently. He moves his right hand up, stroking Nicolò’s cheekbone with his thumb.
“You are,” Nicolò accuses, even though he knows it isn’t true.
Yusuf has the decency to look ashamed. “I am not passing judgement,” he says, his gaze falling to Nicolò’s chest. “I’m merely… fretting, I suppose. I want you to have everything, even things you haven’t imagined you might want yet. There is so much more to the world than me.”
“I know,” Nicolò replies, bringing his left hand up to rest on top of Yusuf’s. “But you are my favorite part of it.”
It’s several hours later when Nicolò gets up to relieve himself. On his way back to Yusuf, he passes the tent the women are in. The four of them don’t always have separate tents (or tents at all), and Nicolò is so used to having them around, talking in the background, that he almost misses the fact that he and Yusuf are the topic of their conversation. He has no context for it, but the first he catches of it is Quynh stating, “Then I’m helping Yusuf get whatever revenge he needs after you ride his precious Nico into the ground.”
Nicolò stops.
Andromache scoffs. “Nicolò is a baby. He has a million revivals left.”
There’s a slight pause before Quynh asks, softly, “Was your offer serious earlier?”
“I wouldn’t say ‘no’ to having either of them,” Andromache says lightly. “They’re too ridiculously besotted with each other to ever do it, though, and I’m not going to insert myself in their relationship. I don’t need the dramatics that could cause.”
“Of course,” Quynh agrees. “And what else?”
“What do you mean ‘what else’?” Andromache asks.
“I mean, you don’t sleep with every single person you find attractive,” Quynh explains. “You enjoy sex, but you have some kind of standards. And there is usually more to it, something about these people that you want to help with. You want to have a good time, of course, but you want to show them a good time as well. To be a light in the darkness or to give them something they’ve been denied before.”
“Nicolò wouldn’t be a pity fuck, if that’s what you are saying,” Andromache says.
“However?” Quynh prompts.
Neither one of them speaks for several seconds. Nicolò holds his breath.
“It isn’t not that,” Andromache eventually admits. “It would be nice, being able to provide that experience that he’s looking for and hasn’t had yet.”
Quynh sighs. “His first and last time with a woman. Or anyone, ever. I can’t believe you would make poor Yusuf a widower like this.”
“I literally cannot do that,” Andromache counters. “Why are you convinced I would hurt Nicolò that badly?”
“I’m thinking more about the emotional damage now,” Quynh says.
“To Yusuf?” Andromache asks.
“No, to Nicolò,” says Quynh. “He’s never been with a woman before. I’m worried starting with you might leave him frothing at the mouth, wandering the countryside like a demoniac.”
Something hot and tight clenches in the center of Nicolò’s chest and neck.
“I can play nice,” Andromache argues.
“Prove it,” Quynh fires back.
“And what have you done to deserve my kindness?” Andromache asks.
Instead of a response, Nicolò hears a rustling noise. Quynh shrieks before exploding into laughter. Nicolò turns on his heel, his ears burning. He returns to his tent and to Yusuf’s side and vows to put the whole evening out of his mind. Nicolò is never going to sleep with Andromache. He really does not want to do that ever. Of that, he is sure.
… Except he can’t stop thinking about it now. What would it be like? What would Andromache do to him? Every time the thought crops up, something swoops in Nicolò’s stomach, something that feels more like anticipation than dread.
Yusuf thinks if Nicolò never has the opportunity to be with a woman, Nicolò will always wonder what he missed out on. Until now, Nicolò had disagreed. He had been intrigued enough to go along with Yusuf’s suggestion, but he wouldn’t have been looking for a woman if left to himself, and he still isn’t sure he will go through with it if or when they find somebody willing.
When left to himself, Nicolò hadn’t looked for anyone, regardless of gender. He had gone from a harsh family into an equally-unforgiving church.
The church forbidding something didn’t make it impossible to do, Nicolò knows. Their vows had never stopped most of his brethren from partaking in local whores and bored housewives and stable boys, whoever they wanted in their beds. But Nicolò thought God was everything. Nobody captured Nicolò’s eye until Yusuf. Nicolò still finds it all a bit ridiculous, that it took traveling to a foreign land and dying multiple times for him to not only find romantic love but to want romantic love in his life. Yusuf thinks it’s all quite poetic. Nicolò supposes they’re both right, that the situation is ridiculous and poetic and every other earthly emotion in between.
Nicolò adores Yusuf. He loves Yusuf through to the bone and to the soul. He does not want anybody else. He doesn’t see himself ever wanting anybody else, particularly not a woman.
Women have always seemed a bit soft for his liking, too plush or too wispy. Nicolò would never intentionally hurt one of them, but Andromache’s toughness has him intrigued. Nicolò doesn’t need to worry about overpowering her or doing any lasting damage if he gets carried away.
Andromache is a known entity. Nicolò knows her thoughts and opinions about him. He knows what she expects of him. Nicolò knows her, too. He knows Andromache has sex. The four of them do what they can for privacy, but sound still carries. Nicolò doesn’t know what noises are hers or what Quynh does to make Andromache make them, but he knows on some level what she sounds like when she’s having sex.
Suddenly the idea of having sex with a woman is something tangible, something Nicolò can actually make himself imagine if he really thinks about it. Somebody with centuries of experience probably won’t care if he makes a strange noise, or if he comes too soon, or if he can’t get erect at all. Andromache has seen it all. She does this all the time.
Yusuf also had a point in that Nicolò never did any self-exploration before starting their relationship. Nicolò still doesn’t think he will enjoy sex with a woman, but if Andromache is offering, maybe he should try. It might be nice to know this about himself, even if he has no practical use for his findings.
Once Nicolò has decided this, he knows it is time to discuss it with his partner.
Once in a great while, Nicolò worries he might ruin their relationship. Someday, he thinks he might ask for too much and reach a limit neither him nor Yusuf knew existed. Maybe there is an end, and they simply don’t know it yet.
Now is not one of those times. Even if – despite it being his idea – Yusuf hates Nicolò for asking for this, Nicolò knows the hatred will be temporary. They can come back from it. Their relationship is not fragile. It isn’t new. They have argued and come out the other side with even more love and respect for one another. They have hated each other, and here they are today.
Still, it wouldn’t hurt to give Yusuf a reason to give Nicolò what he wants here. That’s what Nicolò tells himself as he finally flops to the ground beside his spent lover two nights after their campfire conversation.
Nicolò rolls onto his right side to watch Yusuf as Yusuf’s breathing evens out. Yusuf closes his eyes as his muscles lose some tension and he sinks a bit further into the blanket beneath them.
“I want to take Andromache up on her offer to sleep together,” Nicolò says.
Yusuf’s eyes fly open.
“I’m not leaving you,” Nicolò adds in case his partner is panicking. “I don’t want to be with her now. I want to know what it’s like, though. Being with a woman.”
“Why her?” Yusuf asks. “I’m only curious. You seemed less interested before it was her.”
“I trust her,” Nicolò replies. “I know her, and I trust it won’t mean anything to her and our relationship. Andromache sleeps with people all the time. I probably won’t even be the first person she has had to teach. And I know she doesn’t feel anything romantic for me.”
Yusuf’s brows draw together. “Do you feel anything for her?”
“I like her,” Nicolò says after some thought. “I like that she’s like us. Another immortal makes it seem easier somehow. So does the fact that I know her already. I like that she offered instead of you and I needing to find and pay somebody.”
Yusuf reaches up with his left hand to stroke Nicolò’s face. “Alright,” he says. “I trust you too. And I don’t want to deny you this. You deserve to know if you are like me. Do you want me to be there for it?”
“I don’t,” Nicolò lies. He does, actually. He would like to have Yusuf there watching, but Nicolò knows that would be all he could focus on all evening. Nicolò needs to commit to trying something new without Yusuf holding his hand the entire time.
“When do you think you will ask her?” Yusuf asks.
“When we reach Brandenburg,” Nicolò decides. “When we can rent a room for the night, I suppose.”
“And where is that kind of consideration for me?” Yusuf jokes, poking Nicolò in the nose with his left index finger. “Why must I suffice with a tent above me and the cold, hard ground underneath me instead of a bed?”
“Because you’re easy,” Nicolò teases back before leaning down to kiss Yusuf.
The four of them reach Brandenburg an der Havel the following afternoon. Nicolò is so wrapped up in his thoughts about what that means for him and what he has to do next that he misses Quynh’s question the first time she asks it.
Nicolò jumps at the feeling of a finger poking sharply in between his ribs. He looks to his left to see Quynh frowning up at him.
“What?” says Nicolò.
“I asked if you wanted to be the hunters or the gatherers,” Quynh repeats, a furrow between her eyebrows.
It takes Nicolò another moment to remember their joke. It has become their funny way of asking if one of them prefers finding their group rooms or finding their group food.
“We’ll hunt,” Yusuf interjects before Nicolò can reply, winking at Quynh.
They have luck at the first inn they find. It isn’t the most luxurious place, with its low ceilings and dark corners, but they have two available rooms and offer food if the women can’t find anything else.
When Nicolò reaches for his bag of coins, Yusuf elbows him. Yusuf elbows Nicolò again; Nicolò takes the hint and steps aside. He watches as Yusuf hands over enough money to cover both rooms.
“I can pay, you know,” Nicolò says to his partner as they walk away from the counter and into the common area.
“Not for this,” Yusuf insists. “I don’t want you to worry about anything else tonight.”
“I’m not worried,” Nicolò counters. “And stop acting strange like this. I haven’t even asked her yet.”
“Asked who what yet?”
Nicolò turns to find Andromache and Quynh standing behind him. Quynh is on Andromache’s right, the pair of them carrying satchels laden with something. Nicolò can’t tell what they found for food based solely on the shapes.
Yusuf places his right hand on Nicolò’s lower back, spreading his fingers wide. Nicolò takes half a step forward, and Yusuf’s hand goes with him.
“I would like to share your quarters for the evening, Andromache,” he says. As soon as he asks, a bolt of doubt strikes Nicolò. He dips his head in an awkward gesture of deference before adding, “If you are still willing to have me.”
Nicolò looks back up to see the other immortal warrior wearing a thunderstruck expression. Andromache’s blue eyes are as wide as Nicolò has ever seen them.
From behind him, Nicolò hears Yusuf start laughing.
“You offered,” Yusuf points out once he has calmed down some. He still sounds entirely too amused. “Don’t tell us now that you didn’t plan at all for if Nicolò said ‘yes.’”
Nicolò hears Quynh laughing now too, but he can’t take his eyes off Andromache. He leans in closer and lowers his voice. “You don’t have to if it’s too much.”
“It isn’t,” Andromache replies right away. She places her left hand on Nicolò’s right forearm. “You surprised me is all. I thought you had written it off.”
“Should I have?” Nicolò asks her.
Andromache eyes him up and down for a minute. “No,” she says finally. “I can work with you.”
With the hand she has on his right arm, Andromache pulls Nicolò slightly towards her. Nicolò comes to stand on her left; he turns to face Yusuf and sees Quynh standing to his partner’s left and facing Andromache now.
Andromache turns her attention on Quynh.
“I know this isn’t the first time we have done this,” Andromache starts.
“No, it is not,” Quynh replies with an amused smile.
“Do I still have your permission?” Andromache asks.
Quynh nods, her expression fond. “You do. Am I invited, too?”
Yusuf hooks his left arm around Quynh’s head, covering the top half of her face with his forearm. “Nico doesn’t want me there,” he tells her. “Why would he want you there watching?”
“I wouldn’t be watching for his benefit,” says Quynh.
“We should eat before we do anything else,” Andromache says, ever the strategist.
They do, although their meal and their casual conversations end much sooner than Nicolò is ready for them to. The four of them head upstairs to a hallway lined with doors. There are other people milling about, coming in and out of rooms. Nicolò watches them, his back pressed up against the wall.
Andromache grabbing Quynh by the upper arms and spinning her in a circle grabs Nicolò’s attention. Quynh laughs once and Andromache twirls her partner to once again face her.
“Quynh, my beautiful angel, protector and defender of all I hold dear,” Andromache begins, bringing their faces almost but not quite close enough to touch. “I have a favor to ask of you.”
Quynh sighs good-naturedly. “Would you like me to guard your belongings while you go off and have sex with Nicolò, you harlot?”
“Yes please,” Andromache replies. She takes half a step back and holds her labrys out to the other woman.
“Nicolò?”
Nicolò turns to see Yusuf looking at him with a questioning expression. He’s holding his right hand out expectantly.
Wordlessly, Nicolò unbuckles his scabbard and hands Yusuf his sword. He holds onto his pack, though; Nicolò thinks he will probably want the flask of water and the clean clothes he has in there after.
Quynh comes to stand next to Yusuf; she loops her right arm through his left. Andromache copies her, looping her left arm around Nicolò’s right bicep. Nicolò can’t tear his gaze away from Yusuf. He feels nervous, and he feels silly for feeling nervous. He’s only going somewhere with Andromache, and they will only be gone several hours at most. Nicolò feels sad, and he feels ridiculous for feeling sad. He and Yusuf are spending one night apart. They will see one another tomorrow morning at the latest.
Nicolò didn’t get to sleep with Yusuf holding him much before meeting the women. They took turns keeping watch to keep from being ambushed on the road. Even now, they can’t always sleep together – sometimes they need to split up on missions, or one of them will be too busy helping other people while the other man needs to rest.
Nicolò can sleep without Yusuf. That doesn’t mean he likes to, though. Nicolò loves falling asleep and waking up in Yusuf’s arms. It is such a comfort, a constant reminder that he isn’t alone and that he is cared for. It’s a reminder that Nicolò has an equal partner who has his back. Yusuf loves him, and being held reminds Nicolò of that fact every night and every morning.
“Be kind to him,” Yusuf says. He’s addressing Andromache, clearly, but his warm, brown eyes never leave Nicolò’s face. Nicolò wishes he could close the distance between them, that he could kiss Yusuf on his wonderful lips. There are too many strangers around, though. He has to wait.
“I will be,” Andromache replies gently.
Quynh bobs her head, catching Nicolò’s attention. When he looks, she is smiling back at him.
“Have fun,” she tells Nicolò.
“I will,” Nicolò replies. He isn’t so sure about that, but he will do his best. Surely it won’t be all bad, being with Andromache. It will be worth it in the long run.
Their room has a fireplace. That is the one positive thing Nicolò can say for it. The place is a narrow, windowless strip, most likely designed so the inn can cram as many customers in the building as possible. There is a thin cot with one pillow pushed up against the wall to their left. The hearth is directly across from the door; there is nothing on the right wall.
“Cozy,” Andromache remarks. She crosses the room to poke at the fireplace and the handful of logs piled next to it.
Nicolò moves to sit on the bed with the intention of taking his shoes off. Nicolò sits and nearly goes through the bed. He catches himself, getting his weight on the wooden beam of the bedframe. With the light of Andromache’s freshly-made fire, Nicolò inspects the mattress and finds a thin pile of straw with some rope only barely holding it together.
“I do not think this will work,” Nicolò informs Andromache.
Andromache frowns and walks over to him. She puts her right knee on the bed frame next to Nicolò’s left hip; the wood creaks, and the makeshift mattress sags even further under their combined weight.
“Damn,” Andromache swears. She looks at Nicolò apologetically. “I know you can and have slept on worse than this floor, but I wanted your first time to be in a bed.”
Nicolò shrugs. “Beggars can’t be choosers.”
“If you’re a beggar, I’m not sure I like what that says about you choosing to sleep with me,” Andromache jokes back.
Nicolò feels a heat in his face and his neck; he wasn’t meaning to insult her. He ducks his head to avoid looking at her as they pull the blankets off the bed and onto the floor. Their nest leaves something to be desired, but function is more important than form. It will most likely be a mess soon anyway, Nicolò thinks, half-thrilled and half-terrified.
“Before we start, I have one thing you need to promise me you won’t do,” Andromache says when they’re done, a grave expression on her face.
"Anything," Nicolò vows. He is lost at sea. He is so far from knowing what he is doing, and knowing what not to do can only help. Any kind of agreed-upon boundary will help. "Name it."
"I don’t want you kissing me," Andromache tells him. "I love you, and I’m fully prepared to have your cock inside me, but I don’t want your mouth anywhere near mine."
Nicolò grimaces without meaning to in response. “Fidati di me, I won’t.”
“Great,” Andromache replies. She reaches up and starts unpinning her hair. “Take your clothes off.”
Nicolò does, removing his cloak, his tunic, his hose, and his shoes. He puts everything with his pack by the foot of the bed, near the door. Andromache is across the room by the fireplace, which Nicolò realizes belatedly was the wisest course of action – her clothes will be warm when she puts them back on.
Andromache was wearing a simple shift dress with a chain belt. Nicolò isn’t sure what she was wearing for under clothes because when he looks back up, she is naked. Mostly naked, at least — she’s still wearing the necklace she always has on. Nicolò will have to ask what it means to her later.
She stands there with her hands on her hips, looking him up and down from across the room. Nicolò stays put and looks back at her. In the low light of the fire, he can tell they are both a bit dusty from their travels. Neither of them are filthy, though, and the inn didn’t provide them any water to clean off with anyway.
Nicolò has probably seen Andromache naked before. The four of them are not shy; they have bathed together and washed their clothes together and checked each other over to ensure wounds have healed all the way through. If he did, however, Nicolò wasn’t paying attention that closely. He takes all of Andromache in now. His eyes are immediately drawn to her chest, to the pink nipples tipping her breasts. There is definition to her abdomen, a straight line down the center of her upper stomach, but her low belly is a bit soft. Not that Nicolò is judging her — he knows he himself has fat on his stomach. Yusuf is almost concave there, though, his hipbones more pronounced. It provides a nice contrast with the way Yusuf’s cock juts up out from his pelvis.
Andromache has only a thicket of black hair in that place. There is a nice contrast to that as well, though, with how dark her hair is against the paleness of her skin.
“Huh,” Andromache says, her eyebrows drawing together the slightest bit as she stares at him.
“Good or bad?” Nicolò asks her. He isn’t hard yet, and Yusuf is bigger, but Nicolò doesn’t think his own cock is anything to be embarrassed by.
“I would say you’re average,” Andromache tells him. “We’ll see if that changes.”
Looking at her bare form, it occurs to Nicolò then why Andromache isn’t as flat as Yusuf. Andromache is a woman – she has different organs in there. The thought stops Nicolò in his tracks.
“Do we need… can you get pregnant?” he asks. He doesn’t have anything; he and Yusuf never use protection, and they usually never sleep with other people.
Andromache arches an eyebrow at him. “Haven’t yet.”
“Right,” Nicolò acknowledges. “But have you had sex with another immortal before?”
Andromache looks at him like he’s stupid. “Quynh.”
“You knew what I meant,” Nicolò says.
Andromache nods once. “Lykon.”
“Oh,” says Nicolò. He forgot about Lykon. The other man existed too far before his time, and he doesn’t come up often in conversation.
“So, are you going to touch me, or did you just want to talk?” Andromache asks after a minute.
“What if I hurt you?” Nicolò blurts. He knows it’s a ridiculous sentiment as the words leave his mouth. It’s different seeing Andromache like this, though. She is about the same height as him, but she looks slighter without her clothes on, when Nicolò can see the exact shape of her. She seems much smaller than Yusuf, Nicolò’s one point of comparison for this activity. That and Nicolò is too used to seeing her on the road or in combat. He is used to seeing Andromache covered in dirt and mud and caked-on sand and blood. He is used to seeing her snarling and sinking her labrys into the meat of another body. Now, she seems too calm and too clean and too naked.
Andromache shoots him a flat look. “I’ll survive,” she replies.
“I don’t want to hurt you,” Nicolò clarifies.
Andromache cocks her head at him. “Have you ever hurt Yusuf during sex?”
“Yes,” Nicolò tells her. “Many times.”
“And has Yusuf ever enjoyed that?” Andromache asks slowly like she is explaining something to a child.
“That’s different,” Nicolò counters. “I know for him what is good pain and what is bad pain.”
“And you’ll learn for me, too,” Andromache says. “You’re not doing this on your own. I can tell you to stop or to try something else if I’m not enjoying what you are doing.”
Nicolò nods. “Right. So, how do we…”
It’s awkward, needing to ask, having to talk about what they are doing. There had been some initial awkwardness with Yusuf, but for the most part it had been easy. There had been a progression, from kissing to touching over their clothes to getting undressed together. Nicolò knew where he wanted to touch Yusuf and where he wanted Yusuf to touch him. It didn’t matter that Nicolò had never done anything like that before. It had been an extension of their feelings, not a negotiation like this.
“Don’t think,” Andromache says. “What was the first thing that caught your attention?”
Nicolò’s left hand raises. He hesitates. Then he completes his reach for Andromache’s right breast. Nicolò feels his face heating up. He keeps his mouth shut. He wants so much to ask if this is alright, but he has to trust her. If he is doing something Andromache doesn’t want or like, she will tell him. He needs to trust her judgement.
Andromache doesn’t have the largest breasts Nicolò has ever seen, but she does have some. It’s enough to fill up Nicolò’s hand. He considers the weight of it in his palm for a minute, circling her nipple carefully with his thumb.
Andromache snorts and then laughs. “Oh come on, Nicolò. I expect you know how to do this at least.”
She copies him, reaching out with her right hand to touch Nicolò’s chest. Nicolò sucks in a startled breath as she teases his left nipple to a peak.
Nicolò feels more embarrassed than aroused. He reaches up to grab her left breast as well. Having both of them in his hands doesn’t make the feeling of them any less strange. Nicolò is used to Yusuf’s flat chest, his firm pectorals and a dusting of curls. Normally, Nicolò will suck on or bite Yusuf’s nipples. The spirit is not moving him to do anything like that with Andromache, though. He also doesn’t know if she would permit that given her stance on Nicolò keeping his mouth away from her.
Maybe it will be different from another angle, Nicolò thinks. He lets go of Andromache’s breasts, then places both hands on either side of her waist. He slides them up her ribcage to cup her breasts from underneath. After another moment, Nicolò pushes her breasts up and slightly together.
Andromache narrows her eyes. “Is this doing anything for you?”
“Not really,” Nicolò admits. This feels more like an examination than foreplay to him.
Andromache tilts her head, her expression considering. “Are you sure you want to do this?” she asks softly. “We can stop if you want to.”
Nicolò considers the situation for a minute. “I would like to try, at least,” he tells her. “For however much you are willing to do with me.”
Andromache nods, looking less concerned already. “Alright, give me a minute to adjust my expectations for the rest of the night, and then I’ll have you try something else.”
Nicolò snorts. “Were they high to begin with?”
Andromache grins back at him. “Your assessment of the situation, not mine.” She tilts her head; the grin abates, but she still looks far too amused for Nicolò’s liking.
“How would you like history’s fastest promotion through the ranks, soldier?” Andromache asks him.
“I wouldn’t,” Nicolò says.
“That’s too bad,” Andromache replies. She pats his right bicep with her left hand, then takes a step backward. She sits down on the blanket beneath them. Nicolò gets the sense she expects him to join her on the floor, so he does, coming to kneel by her feet.
“Any time you want to stop, remember?” Andromache says. She leans back, placing her elbows on the floor behind her. She looks up at Nicolò expectantly.
Nicolò nods. His heart is beating in his throat.
Andromache keeps her eyes on Nicolò as she lays her upper back down and parts her bent legs. Nicolò shuffles closer, getting between her calves. He runs his left hand from her ankle up the back of her leg solely to be doing something.
Nicolò is not an idiot. People talk, and he listens. Just because Nicolò has never had sex with a woman doesn’t mean he doesn’t know the specifics of another anatomy.
It’s a lot different, though, hearing about something and being close enough to put his hands on it.
Nicolò reaches out with his right hand, then pauses. He looks up at Andromache’s face. “You’ll tell me if I’m making you uncomfortable?”
“Of course,” she says.
Nicolò steels his nerves, then looks back down and puts his hands in between Andromache’s legs, parting her with his fingers.
She’s pink here too under all the hair, although it’s several shades darker than the color of her nipples. It looks like a cut. Nicolò is seeing inside of her in a way that feels unnatural. Her inner walls are smooth in a way that unsettles him; he’s used to more wrinkled or puckered skin here. Her folds aren’t slippery yet the way Yusuf told Nicolò they should be.
Yusuf also told Nicolò about the bundle of nerves Nicolò now spies at the apex of her sex, where a penis would be on a man. With his right index finger, Nicolò pushes up the thin skin of its hood. His right thumb finds the base of it; he moves his thumb up and back down before pinching it.
Andromache sucks a breath in through her teeth and snaps her thighs shut.
“Nope,” she says. “Too much too soon. Work up to that one.”
“Sorry,” Nicolò replies. His hands are still trapped inside her, which at least makes it easy to resume prodding at Andromache once she relaxes her legs again. She’s too dry for Nicolò to get a finger inside of her cunt, and touching just her outer lips probably won’t arouse her enough either.
Nicolò frowns, thinking. She needs to be wet, but he can’t use his fingers or a cock to do that, and he doesn’t have any outside influences to use instead.
“You want a suggestion?” Andromache asks, breaking the silence.
“Can I use my mouth on you?” Nicolò asks in return.
“Please,” says Andromache.
“Uh…” Now that Nicolò has said it, he realizes he isn’t sure how to do that. “Do I put my whole face in there?”
“Pretty much,” Andromache replies. “Use your fingers to keep my lips spread apart. Gets less hair in your way.”
Nicolò nods. He leans in before he can overthink it, starting in the middle and moving up.
Andromache sighs on his first lick. Nicolò does his best to focus on the task at hand, but the noises she makes are distracting. He’s used to Yusuf’s more manly tenor, his deeper groans and cries. She also tastes different than Yusuf, less salty and more tangy somehow.
Nicolò hooks his arms underneath Andromache’s legs and draws her hips closer, the backs of her thighs resting on his biceps. It’s strange needing to go in so much. Sucking cock, everything Nicolò has to work with is pretty much out there. He finds it a bit easier to catch his breath doing this, however. Nicolò can pull away before getting back into it; he doesn’t have to contend with getting a cock out of his mouth to get oxygen.
It’s easier for Nicolò to tell what works for Yusuf. He makes more noise. His member gets harder, or it twitches, or it leaks more fluid. Andromache’s cunt is not as easy to read. Nicolò can’t tell if what he’s doing feels good or not. She’s wetter, but Nicolò isn’t sure if that’s mostly her or mostly his spit.
Nicolò draws back. “Do you want me to put my fingers in you?”
Andromache thinks about it for a moment. “Not yet,” she eventually decides. “Let’s see what you can do like this first.”
Nicolò isn’t sure what else he can do like this. He thinks he is using his mouth to its fullest extent, and she doesn’t want his hands. What about the rest of his face?
Nicolò nods his head up and down. Andromache doesn’t react. Nicolò pushes his face in further, wrinkling his nose a bit at the stronger flavor, then moves his head from side to side.
Surprisingly, Andromache’s breath hitches.
“Rub your nose on – there,” she says when Nicolò shakes his head again. “Like that.”
Nicolò is doing something right then, he thinks. Andromache starts moving a lot more, humping against his face. Nicolò does his best to keep his tongue in place. It’s an unfamiliar sensation – he is used to Yusuf thrusting up into his mouth during this part.
Andromache is also breathing a lot faster. She whines, surprising Nicolò again, before her thighs clamp around his head. As if he could get out from that, Andromache also grabs the back of Nicolò’s head with her left hand and pushes down to hold him in place. Nicolò feels a wet, rhythmic clenching against his tongue. He stays put until Andromache groans and then slumps back to the floor, letting him go in the process.
Nicolò looks down at her mound, at the glistening hair where he had just been.
“Is that it?” he asks. He thought there might be more to it. There are a few small dark spots on the blanket underneath her, but no huge wet patch. Nicolò knows he and Yusuf don’t make a mess every time, but there is usually more spend than this afterward.
“I hope not,” Andromache says breathlessly. “I’m hoping to get one or two more out of this.” She places her right hand on the center of her chest, her left forearm across her forehead. “Not bad for your first time.”
“Thank you,” Nicolò replies despite feeling like he didn’t do that much. He sits back on his ass with his knees bent up. He wraps his arms loosely around his knees as he watches her catch her breath. Nicolò considers wiping his face off, then decides not to bother since they won’t be kissing and he might need to use it again.
After a few minutes, Andromache moves to sit up as well. She glances down at Nicolò’s groin.
“And that did nothing for you,” she comments.
“No,” Nicolò confirms. “Was it supposed to?”
Andromache squints at him. “Don’t you get aroused when you go down on Yusuf?”
The mere mention that act send a flare of heat through Nicolò’s chest and up the sides of his neck. Yes, yes he does love the way using his mouth on Yusuf makes him feel. It makes him feel powerful and desired. It’s incredible.
“So,” Andromache says, not bothering to wait for an answer. “What are we going to do to make this good for you?”
Nicolò shrugs. “I don’t know. Whatever you feel like doing. Whatever you usually do with your partners.”
“I don’t think you’re ready for what I usually do with my partners,” Andromache answers.
Nicolò considers that for a minute, what Andromache would do to him. It isn’t an every time thing, but sometimes Nicolò likes it when Yusuf pushes him around. If what Andromache means is that she plans on getting rough with him, that might actually do something for Nicolò. Maybe he needs that extra push to make this exciting. It can’t be any worse than what they are already doing, at least.
Nicolò shifts into a better position. He removes his arms from around his legs, putting his hands flat on the floor on either side of him. He opens his legs a bit wider to create more space between them.
“Try me,” Nicolò says. “I might surprise you with what I can and cannot handle.”
“Bold claims from a man who isn’t even hard yet,” Andromache counters.
Nicolò huffs. He rolls his neck then grips himself with his right hand and starts moving.
“Do not,” Andromache snaps. She crawls across the floor to him, then puts her right hand in the center of Nicolò’s chest. She pushes on him until Nicolò is lying flat on his back.
“We are doing this together,” she tells him. “If you want to stroke yourself off, you can go do it in the hall. I don’t need to be here for it.”
Nicolò laughs, placing his hands on his abdomen where chest and stomach meet as Andromache takes over. He isn’t sure what he can do that won’t get in the way of her machinations, so keeping his hands above his waist seems like the best course of action. Andromache’s fingers feel so slender; Nicolò is used to Yusuf’s broad palm enveloping his cock. What Andromache is doing feels fine, merely different.
Lying on his back, Nicolò has plenty of time to look at the inn’s ceiling. He can’t tell exactly what it is made of, though. It is white and flaking a bit in places. There is a texture to it, but he doesn’t think that it’s stucco. It must be some other type of plaster, maybe mud painted white after it dried.
Nicolò then thinks that this probably isn’t aiding in him getting an erection. He closes his eyes and attempts to focus on what Andromache is doing.
Unfortunately, Andromache chooses now to stop working him over. There is a pause, and then she laughs, small and disbelieving.
“What’s funny?” Nicolò asks, trying not to panic. He’s uncut, which Yusuf had found odd at first. Maybe she finds it strange as well. Hopefully there isn’t anything else down there that Yusuf neglected to mention to him.
“You,” Andromache answers. “I don’t know. It’s stranger than I thought it would be, doing this with you. I think I know what you meant when you said you didn’t want to hurt me. You are bigger than I thought you would be.” Her voice is a bit petulant when she adds, “And I’m out of practice. You are lacking most of the assets I use to make this good for Quynh.”
“You can touch my stomach and my thighs,” Nicolò tells her. “I like it when Yusuf strokes me there.” He has noticed she isn’t going anywhere near his testicles, but Nicolò isn’t going to point it out. He feels good enough without that.
His eyes are still closed, but Nicolò can picture Andromache’s expression in the pause that follows. Her look would be calculating. She will be using the information she already has about him to plot her next move, coming at it like military strategy.
After a few seconds, Nicolò feels the fingers of Andromache’s right hand above the base of his cock. She presses down with the tips of her fingers and pushes them up towards Nicolò’s navel, through the trail of hair he has there. Nicolò groans and rocks his hips up.
Andromache resumes stroking him. Nicolò feels her tracing lines up and down his groin and the insides of his thighs with her short nails with her left hand now. Nicolò pants at the sensation. He feels it as Andromache does finally venture further back, to his testicles and then back further still. She presses a finger to his hole, and Nicolò jolts.
“Too much?” Andromache asks, actually sounding apologetic.
“No, you only surprised me,” Nicolò tells her. He spreads his legs a bit wider. She won’t get much farther in without oil, but the pressure alone is pleasant.
“What about the other men?” Andromache asks out of nowhere, still working on working him up.
Nicolò frowns. “What other men?”
“The ones you’ve slept with besides Yusuf,” Andromache says lightly like she hasn’t pinned Nicolò in a trap. “What did they do that you liked?”
Nicolò’s heart leaps into his throat. He opens his eyes; the patchy, white ceiling greets him. He can lie. He should lie.
He turns his gaze on Andromache. She’s kneeling on the floor between his legs, her hands on his hips. Maybe he’s imagining the concern on her face. Nicolò is already lying naked and belly-up beneath her, though.
Nicolò meets her eyes and says nothing.
He doesn’t need to. Andromache’s eyes light up, a smirk spreading across her face. “I knew it,” she says.
“How much are you judging me for it?” Nicolò asks, a knot forming in his stomach.
“I’m confused, mostly,” Andromache admits. “You’re not bad-looking. I assume it was by your choice, but you could have been sleeping with other people long before Yusuf. Maybe you were meaner before you died for the first time, but that hasn’t stopped anyone else on Earth from getting laid.”
Nicolò shrugs. “I wasn’t interested in anybody before Yusuf.”
“Then I’m flattered to be your second,” Andromache says.
Any kind of affection Nicolò could have taken from her words is immediately undone by Andromache slapping his right hip twice.
“I’m not going to suck you, though,” she says. “I think Yusuf has you covered there, and I don’t want to.”
“That’s fair,” Nicolò replies. He isn’t sure he wants her mouth on him anyway. “Do you want me to sit up?”
“On your back is fine,” Andromache tells him. Nicolò watches as she moves away from him, backing out from between his legs. “Think you can keep it up?”
“Let us hope,” Nicolò says.
Andromache positions herself above him, her knees on either side of his hips. She takes Nicolò’s cock in hand, looking down at it to line them up.
Nicolò grabs the backs of her thighs. Something flutters in his chest and stomach. It isn’t like when he has Yusuf and Yusuf’s attention on him, not so overwhelming that Nicolò’s heart races and he wants to cry and break into a thousand pieces, but he is feeling some type of excitement.
She’s soft in a way Nicolò didn’t expect. Andromache has been a warlord, a deity of destruction. She killed thousands of people thousands of years before any speck of Nicolò existed in the universe. Nicolò hadn’t expected her body to yield so easily to his member. He shouldn’t be allowed to do this, Nicolò thinks. It’s too easy. It should have taken more work to get her this slick. He can’t believe she’s ready for him already.
Once she has him all the way inside, Andromache places both of her hands on Nicolò’s chest. Her hips undulate; she does it again and frowns a little.
“Alright?” Nicolò asks.
“Try rubbing my clit again,” Andromache instructs him.
Nicolò jams his thumb in between their bodies. He frowns. He isn’t sure he has it. Everything is really slippery there. It’s mildly frustrating, Nicolò thinks – first she was too dry, and now she’s too wet. He touches something he thinks is the hood, so he swipes the pad of his thumb across it sideways.
“Like that?” he asks.
Andromache takes his hand, moving it slightly. “Up more and harder,” she tells him. “Use more pressure.”
Nicolò does, and Andromache immediately rolls her hips against him. With his left hand, Nicolò grabs her ass. Andromache inhales and raises up and nearly off of him. Then she sighs and comes back down harder than before. As she gets a rhythm going, Andromache gives her head a shake and tosses her hair over her left shoulder.
This is a view some men would kill to see, Nicolò thinks. Some men probably have killed to see her like this. Andromache looks ethereal, backlit with the golden glow from the fire. Her eyes look silver in this light. She hardly seems real.
Nicolò thinks he finds brown eyes more attractive, though. Her skin is too pale, her dark hair not curly enough. Nicolò wonders what Yusuf is doing now, if he and Quynh are up talking or already asleep.
Nicolò wonders if Andromache is pretty. She isn’t overly skinny. She is muscular, in fact. Her waist is defined. The bounce of her chest is nice. Nicolò should probably be touching those, but he doesn’t make any move to do so.
Above him, Andromache sighs and slows to a stop.
“I am doing way too much for this to be your reaction,” she declares, sounding disappointed.
Nicolò takes a moment to take stock of what is happening between their bodies. At some point, his right thumb left her clitoris to stroke up and down her left hipbone.
“I’m still hard,” Nicolò points out.
“This may come as a surprise, but that’s kind of the bare minimum I expect from you here,” Andromache counters.
“So get off of me,” Nicolò tells her. “We’ll try something else.”
Andromache raises her eyebrows. “Are you giving up on me?”
“No,” Nicolò replies. “I would like to come, and you said I owe you one more. Let’s see this through to the end, at least.”
Andromache looks pleased by that answer. “You want me on my hands and knees?” she asks as she rises up off of his length.
“On your back, if that is all right,” Nicolò suggests. From that position, Nicolò thinks he knows how to make it feel good for both of them. “Can you hand me the pillow?”
Andromache reaches for it. Instead of giving it to Nicolò, however, she puts it under her own hips, which was what Nicolò planned to do with it as well. After a couple fumbling attempts, Andromache reaches down to help guide him inside her.
Nicolò may have only had sex with one person in his lifetime, but he has had a lot of sex with that one person. He and Yusuf have tried things Nicolò didn’t know were possible half a century ago. Now is not the time for most of those things, but Nicolò knows a few tricks he can use. He knows to circle his hips sometimes, to not just drive in and out over and over. He knows to angle himself upward and to take a moment to grind against Andromache’s pelvis with his own hips when he’s fully inside her. He knows to put his left hand under Andromache’s right thigh, getting her to bend her leg and open up a bit more.
“Gods yes,” Andromache sighs, her hands going to her chest. “I wondered if you fucked, or if Yusuf fucked, or if you traded who does what.”
“We take turns,” Nicolò tells her.
“You ever use those swords of yours on each other?” Andromache asks. “Cut each other up since you can heal?”
“Sometimes,” Nicolò admits.
“One of you ever tie the other one up during?” Andromache wonders.
“Sometimes,” Nicolò repeats.
“What’s your favorite position?” Andromache says.
“This,” Nicolò answers. He comes harder when Yusuf takes him from behind, but Nicolò likes being able to see Yusuf’s face. He likes looking his partner in the eyes as they move their bodies together.
Andromache laughs. “Such sentimental bastards, the both of you.”
Nicolò gives an especially hard thrust. It pushes her a little further across the floor, the blanket underneath her bunching up.
“And here you’re stuck with us forever,” he notes with a smile.
Andromache groans in annoyance rather than pleasure. “Don’t remind me,” she says.
“Quynh as well,” Nicolò adds.
Andromache’s expression softens. “At least one person can keep me sane, then. Since you and Yusuf are hopeless. Good thing you found each other to bother forever.”
Nicolò finds himself too distracted to respond to that. Inside of her is so smooth and so wet. It is easy to get lost in the action, given how fast and almost mindlessly he can thrust. There is not enough friction for Nicolò’s liking. He wonders if people ever slip out while doing this.
Nicolò remembers who he is with then.
“Do people ever slip out during?” he asks Andromache. He doesn’t realize how short of breath he is until he speaks, how tight his chest is at the moment.
Andromache huffs. “I know I’ve been having sex for millennia, but if you think I’m loose, you can keep that to yourself,” she replies wryly.
Nicolò feels his face flush red. “I meant because of how wet you are,” he clarifies.
“I’m sure,” Andromache quips. “It happens, yes. Quite a bit. I’m honestly surprised you haven’t yet. If you want to follow in the footsteps of many great and venerable men, you can pretend to lose your place once your dick is wet enough and then ‘accidentally’ fuck back into my ass instead.”
Nicolò snorts. “A tempting offer, but I think that would defeat the purpose of this exercise.” If he wanted to fuck someone in the ass, he would have stayed with Yusuf tonight.
“Suit yourself,” Andromache says. “Warn me if you change your mind, though. I wouldn’t be against it, but I want some notice.”
With her right hand, Andromache reaches down between them and starts rubbing her clit.
“Go faster,” she says.
Nicolò obliges. He grabs her hips with both hands, holding her in place as he pounds into her.
Andromache starts making noises, short, high-pitched gasps. She seizes up, her knees bending inward to grip Nicolò’s waist, and then she cries out. Her upper back arches, leaving her chest high and heaving. Nicolò feels a familiar yet foreign sensation around his cock.
Nicolò grunts and stop thrusting. The feeling of her isn’t bad or painful, but it doesn’t do anything new for Nicolò either.
It feels like Andromache comes around him for a long time. Nicolò senses it when something shifts; her cunt starts pulsing slower, and Nicolò knows she is returning to the rest of her senses. She does clench her walls around him with more force when she realizes Nicolò is still hard.
“What do you need?” Andromache asks him softly. She runs the pads of her fingers up his groin to press into his lower belly.
Nicolò pulls out. The air in the room is warm, but it feels cool compared to her stifling heat. His cock is dripping with slick; Nicolò takes himself in his right hand and starts working toward completion. He means to spill on the blanket, onto the space between her legs, but he must misjudge the distance or the angle or something. Nicolò chokes and hunches in on himself, and then he’s coming across the inside of Andromache’s inner right thigh.
“Nice,” Nicolò thinks Andromache remarks. It’s hard to hear her over his own harsh breathing. “If that was you when you’re not interested, Yusuf is a pretty lucky man.”
Nicolò wants to thank her for the compliment, but his chest is still heaving.
“Maybe I’ll steal you from him,” Andromache muses. Nicolò feels her slender fingers combing through his hair. “You learn fast. I can be persuasive when I want. What do you say? Do you think I could ever convince you to join my side, or are you forever and utterly under the thrall of Yusuf Al-Kaysani?”
“Yusuf,” Nicolò replies without hesitation.
Andromache laughs loudly and lets him go. Nicolò shuffles back a bit, remaining on his knees on the floor. His eyes remain fixed on her swollen cunt.
Andromache is less concerned with cleaning up than Nicolò thought she would be. Nicolò had expected her to sit up and start redressing as soon as he finished. Instead, Andromache stretches out on the floor. She moves her arms above her head, her hands nearly touching the wall. Nicolò watches her ribcage and her stomach lengthen, and then her hips and her legs before Andromache returns to a normal resting position. She looks up at Nicolò, still kneeling across from her, still working to catch his breath, then scoots over to her right a bit.
“Come here,” Andromache says.
After a moment of hesitation, Nicolò does. He goes down onto his right hip and side, then rolls onto his back to look at the ceiling. There is barely room for them both on the floor with the cot to Andromache’s right; Nicolò’s right shoulder and bicep come to rest against Andromache’s left arm. The room is stuffy, which is not helping Nicolò relax. He doesn’t feel as sweaty as he does after sex with Yusuf, however. It feels like there are fewer fluids overall.
Nicolò is used to lying down with his partner after sex. This is somewhat familiar. He doubts Andromache is going to hold him and whisper sweet nothings in his ear until one or both of them fall asleep, though.
He turns his head to the right to look at her. Something on Andromache’s left side catches Nicolò’s attention. His gaze trails lower, and he’s surprised to find himself looking at a scar. The tissue is silver-white, a jagged line down Andromache’s flank from underneath her left breast to her hipbone.
“What is that from?” Nicolò asks. He feels a little lightheaded thinking about how old it must be, what could have left this mark on flesh that hasn’t been marred in millennia.
Andromache goes still. If Nicolò thought there was silence between them before, it is nothing compared to the lack of sound that follows. It occurs to Nicolò that whatever left that scar might have been what killed her for the first time and might not be something Andromache reflects on as fondly as she does recount some of her battles.
Nicolò is about to retract his question when Andromache speaks.
“My mother,” is all she says. Her voice is thick, and she clears her throat immediately after. She doesn’t add anything else, though.
Understanding dawns on Nicolò. He nods. “The ones on my back are from my father,” he offers in return.
Andromache turns her head to her left to look at him. The expression on her face is surprised and sad. Nicolò hopes his own expression is reflecting the sympathy he feels for her. The two of them look at one another for several moments, letting the silence reign. Nothing else needs to be said.
Nicolò is the first one to look away. Turning to look up once more, he closes his eyes and puts his arm over his face, lulled into comfort by the sound of the crackling fire. After a few minutes, he feels Andromache leave his side. The sound of her rifling through her pack and shaking around a flask of water join the ambient room noises.
Nicolò then remembers that Andromache left her pack with Quynh.
“Are you going through my stuff?” Nicolò asks, taking his arm away from his eyes.
“Not anymore,” says Andromache. She throws Nicolò a wet rag as he sits up. Nicolò wipes his face off first before moving to the rest of his body.
“So,” Andromache adds after a moment, “Do I compliment you on your stamina, or was that more because you weren’t that excited by the situation?”
Nicolò grimaces, keeping his gaze fixed on his own lap. “My apologies.”
“Don’t be sorry,” Andromache says, sitting back down beside him. “I had fun. And now you know some things about yourself.”
“And now I know,” Nicolò agrees. He doesn’t know what he and Andromache do now, though. He said he wanted to share Andromache’s quarters for the evening, but the prospect of staying with her and her alone seems awkward now that they are done.
“So, what do we do now?” Nicolò asks, assuming Andromache will have some sort of guidance. She is good at that.
“Let’s go see our people,” Andromache answers. “I want to see what Quynh and Yusuf are up to, and then the four of us can decide together which room Quynh and I are taking and which one the two of you want.”
Nicolò can’t contain the swell of affection he feels for her. Without thinking, Nicolò grabs Andromache’s face with both hands and kisses her high on her left cheek and then her right cheek. Andromache freezes in his grip.
“Don’t go falling in love with me now,” Andromache jokes as Nicolò lets her go, as he sits back with a smile. Even with the low light, Nicolò sees a furious blush on her face. Her eyes are guarded, like she’s wary of what Nicolò will do next.
“I’m not,” Nicolò tells her. It’s a bit of a lie – he loves her. He isn’t in love with her. The feelings he has are not romantic, and he doesn’t see them ever turning that way. Nicolò is content with who he is and what he has. But he loves Andromache so much, especially in this moment. “I thank you.”
Andromache looks at him for a long moment, sizing Nicolò up. To his surprise, Andromache copies him. Cautiously, she takes Nicolò’s face in her hands, then tips his head down so she can press her lips to the middle of his forehead.
“Any time,” Andromache tells him.
Nicolò laughs as she lets him go. “Just the once was fine.” He flinches, realizing too late he said something she could take offense to once again. “If you don’t mind.”
Andromache rolls her eyes at him. “No, I figured as much.”
“Good,” Nicolò says. “I would like us to see what Yusuf and Quynh are up to as well, and perhaps get Yusuf seen to before sleep.”
“What, both of us?” Andromache asks, tilting her head.
“No,” says Nicolò.
“Do you think Yusuf would fuck me?” she asks, looking more contemplative than teasing. “Maybe I should keep going since I’ve already slept with Quynh and now you.”
“No,” Nicolò replies. “I mean, he probably would. I don’t know that I would let him, though. I’m selfish like that.”
“Good,” Andromache says to his surprise. “I think Yusuf likes that about you. Somebody who wants him and his time above anyone else’s.”
Nicolò says nothing in response. They both know what he’s thinking – that this is exactly the kind of person Nicolò is and can be and always will be. Yusuf is his other half, and there is nothing Nicolò wants more right now than to go see what Yusuf is doing.
Yusuf and Quynh are sitting on the floor of their room playing mancala when Nicolò and Andromache find them. Based on the pile of pebbles in front of her, Quynh is winning.
“Back so soon?” she asks Nicolò and Andromache.
“Yep,” says Andromache, folding herself to the floor next to Quynh. “I’ve gotten what I can out of him. The rest is yours.”
“Oh,” Nicolò starts, the back of his neck prickling with embarrassment. “Was it fast?” He might not have wanted to spend all night in bed with Andromache, but Nicolò still has some pride.
Yusuf shakes his head. “It has been a few hours,” he tells Nicolò.
“Like you weren’t counting the minutes,” Quynh needles him.
Nicolò sinks down next to his beloved, across from the women. Yusuf and Quynh’s room is just as spacious as the quarters he and Andromache were in. Three of their packs and all four of their weapons are piled on the narrow bed; Nicolò tosses his own sack of possessions on the cot to make it four and four.
“So,” Yusuf starts, wrapping his right arm around Nicolò’s shoulders, “you return to me a changed man. How did you like it?”
“I didn’t,” Nicolò says. He leans over to rest his left temple on Yusuf’s right shoulder.
“What about you?” Quynh asks Andromache, poking her partner in the right thigh. “Did you like it?”
“I’ve had worse,” Andromache says with a shrug.
Nicolò feels a pang of guilt. There’s a story in that statement. Nicolò told himself it wasn’t a big deal for Andromache because she had (and still has) a lot of sexual experience. Nicolò never stopped to think that not every time had been enjoyable for her. He wonders exactly how bad “worse” is for her. Even if it doesn’t bother Andromache now, it doesn’t mean she should have been treated badly in the past.
Quynh stares at Andromache. She narrows her eyes but says nothing. Nicolò can guess the meaning of her look based on the fact that Andromache holds two fingers up in response. Quynh nods approvingly.
“So, the two of you were going to sit around playing games all night?” Andromache asks before Nicolò can worry about deflecting their silent conversation.
“I am absolutely decimating Yusuf, so yes,” Quynh answers. “I have gotten so much money out of this bastard.”
“Why were you playing her for money?” Nicolò asks his partner. Yusuf is terrible at hiding his emotions, and Quynh is great at exploiting that fact.
Yusuf tilts his head to rest his right cheek against the top of Nicolò’s head. “I lose my common sense without you,” he answers, and Nicolò can’t see his face but he can hear the pout in Yusuf’s voice.
“That’s nice, but your common sense isn’t paying for our rooms and our food,” Nicolò says.
“I won’t take your money, but the loser does have to stay in this room,” Quynh concedes. “This bed is so bad. Yusuf practically broke it earlier.”
“Nicolò did break the bed in the room we had, so I’m afraid you’re screwed either way,” Andromache tells her.
With his right arm, Yusuf jostles Nicolò. “And you’re telling me that you didn’t have fun?”
Nicolò sighs. “It wasn’t during the sex.”
Andromache puts her left fist to her mouth in an attempt to stifle a yawn. “Can you clean Yusuf out faster?” she asks her partner. “I don’t care which room we have; I just want some sleep.”
Quynh sighs dramatically. “You need to give me more time to mourn,” she says. “Now that the future of the four of us trading partners on-and-off isn’t happening, I have to let go of what could have been.”
Andromache raises an eyebrow at her. “Since when are you interested in cock?”
“I’m maintaining the spirit of us four trying new things today,” Quynh replies loftily, looking down her nose at Andromache.
“I could fuck you,” Nicolò jokes. “Complete this strange circle I have started of sleeping with everyone in our group.”
Yusuf laughs. “Go three for three,” he says. “I like it. I believe in you.”
Andromache scoops the stones out of one pit and jumps them around the board, taking Quynh’s turn for her. “It’s not worth it,” she tells Quynh. “He just lays there like a dead fish while you do all the work.”
Nicolò straightens up, taking his head off Yusuf’s shoulder. “You said I didn’t have to sit up,” he points out.
“Oh no,” Yusuf says under his breath.
“That doesn’t excuse your lack of enthusiasm in every other area,” Andromache retorts. She arches an eyebrow at Nicolò.
“Nicolò is the most generous lover I have ever had,” Yusuf says, leaping to his partner’s defense. “Every evening spent with him is a new pleasure, and when we are – ”
“Yusuf, it’s fine, it’s alright,” Nicolò cuts in quickly. At this point in the evening, he thinks his healing factor is the only reason his face has not turned red and stayed red. He might have slept with two of them now, but they don’t need to compare notes. They don’t need to talk about it. And Andromache and Quynh still don’t need to know all the intimate details about what he does with Yusuf. Nicolò has no problem trading his pride for his privacy.
The sound of stones clacking against wood catches Nicolò’s attention. He looks down to see Quynh’s deft fingers jumping what is left of the pebbles through the troughs, clearing the board in the process. She looks up at Yusuf.
“Should we count to see who the winner is?” Quynh asks.
“Get fucked,” Yusuf tells her cheerfully.
“I’ll see what I can do,” Andromache says.
Quynh stands up, then offers Andromache a hand to help Andromache to her feet as well. “You can catch me up, and then we’ll see about adding one or two more to that ‘two’ of yours.”
Andromache loops her right arm through Quynh’s left and smiles warmly at her partner. “What did I do to deserve you?”
After the women leave, Nicolò gets to his feet. He offers Yusuf a hand up, then grabs their packs off of the bed. He sets them by the door. When he turns back, Yusuf is already taking the blankets off the shoddy mattress and putting them on the floor.
“How are you truly feeling?” Yusuf asks as Nicolò pulls his own tunic off over the back of his head.
“Tired,” Nicolò tells him. “I would like to go to sleep if it won’t offend you.”
“Of course not,” says Yusuf. He bends to pick something up off the floor. Nicolò tosses his tunic onto their baggage and picks up his cloak. Nicolò turns to cross the room and crosses paths with Yusuf. Yusuf has the mancala board and bag of stones in hand; he places them back in his pack as Nicolò goes to the fireplace. Nicolò balls up his cloak as per usual then drops it onto the floor by where he intends to rest his head. Yusuf can have their singular pillow.
“You can stay awake for longer if you’d like,” Nicolò offers, although he isn’t sure what Yusuf would do to entertain himself. Their nest takes up most of the floor space, and the light from the fire isn’t enough to read or draw by without getting a headache.
Yusuf says nothing in response.
Nicolò turns to look at his partner. Yusuf is hanging by the door, watching Nicolò with a wary expression on his face.
“Yusuf?” Nicolò says.
“I wasn’t sure…” Yusuf lowers his gaze to stare at his feet. “You took your pack with you. I thought maybe you were going to spend the whole evening away from me. Warm Andromache’s bed instead of mine.”
Nicolò looks at his partner for a minute before crossing the room once more. He takes Yusuf’s face in both hands and brings their lips together, slowly and surely. Nicolò doesn’t need or want to try this with anyone else. He knows nobody will ever compare to Yusuf.
Yusuf’s hands go instinctively to his waist. In response, Nicolò wraps his arms around Yusuf’s neck, embracing him even closer. They kiss for several long minutes before Nicolò pulls away.
“Quynh would have my head if I did,” Nicolò jokes, brushing the tip of his nose against Yusuf’s.
Yusuf smiles, but he doesn’t laugh the way Nicolò expected him to.
After a moment, Nicolò moves his hands back to Yusuf’s face. This is more like it, he thinks. Yusuf’s rough beard, his strong jaw. Nicolò needs to do something to fix that furrow between his brows and the doubt in his eyes, though.
“I told you I wasn’t going to leave,” he tells Yusuf gently. “I wanted to know, and now I do, and that changes nothing about my feelings for you.”
“Right, I… right,” Yusuf says. He still doesn’t seem convinced, but he tilts his head and presses his lips softly to Nicolò’s.
“Come to bed with me,” Nicolò says once Yusuf pulls away.
For the second time that night, Nicolò undresses; Yusuf does too, and the pair of them get laid out on the floor on their left sides. Nicolò keeps his sword in front of him within arm’s reach; he knows Yusuf has his scimitar at his own back.
Yusuf leaves some space between them, Nicolò notices. Usually Yusuf presses right up against his back, as close as humanly possible. Yusuf’s arms are still wrapped around Nicolò’s waist, although not as tightly as usual. Bare skin touches bare skin in several other assorted places under the blankets, though.
“Did you really not like it?” Yusuf asks quietly as their fire starts to die and darkness starts to envelop the room. “You can be honest with me.”
“I did not,” Nicolò tells him.
“You’re not just saying that to make me feel better, are you?” Yusuf asks.
“Not everything is about you,” Nicolò replies, only half-teasing.
Yusuf sighs and presses his face to the back of Nicolò’s right shoulder.
“You are right,” he says. “I do not mean to question your judgement.”
“Thank you,” says Nicolò.
“I was thinking, though,” Yusuf continues, “that if you did, you could… you could split your time between me and her.”
Nicolò can tell how much it pains his partner to offer that. He loves Yusuf for that selflessness, but selfishly Nicolò is grateful it is no decision for him at all.
“No,” Nicolò says firmly. “I don’t want that.”
“You’re sure?” Yusuf asks, although Nicolò spots the thread of hope in his voice. “I can share you for a little while if you have some wild oats you need to sow.”
“No,” Nicolò replies. “No, once was plenty.”
Yusuf hums in thought. “Are you certain it wasn’t just the fact that it was Andromache?” he asks. “Maybe it would be different with another woman.”
“You are making up problems again,” Nicolò tells him.
Yusuf’s arms tighten around Nicolò’s waist. “You’re right. I’m sorry.”
“I’m telling Andromache you said that,” Nicolò adds. “That you don’t think I’m unattracted to women but that it’s her specifically.”
“Please don’t,” says Yusuf.
Nicolò chuckles. He presses back against his beloved, hoping to close the space between them, to let Yusuf know he is the only person Nicolò wants holding him. Nicolò shifts backward, and something hard pokes the back of his right thigh. He pauses, taking stock of where Yusuf’s hands are. They’re both accounted for, both around Nicolò’s waist.
Nicolò turns in the circle of Yusuf’s arms to lie on his right side and to face his partner. Yusuf’s beautiful brown eyes widen.
“Do you need a hand?” Nicolò asks.
Beneath his beard, Yusuf’s cheeks darken. “Well, I don’t mean to distract from any of your self-reflection, but if you’re offering…”
Nicolò doesn’t need any more motivation than that, not when it comes to Yusuf. He reaches down with his right hand to find the familiar warmth and weight of his beloved. There he is, Yusuf’s softest skin yet hard as iron. Nicolò doesn’t need to look down to know the shape of him, where to grip, how to trace the ridges of his veins and the sensitive bump on the underside of his shaft near the head to make Yusuf moan. Nicolò loves his hipbones, his powerful thigh muscles, the flat plane of his stomach. He loves how solid Yusuf is, how grounding it feels to be touching his partner. Yusuf feels perfect, and he looks perfect, and he sounds perfect.
“This was your aim all along, wasn’t it?” Nicolò teases his partner, holding Yusuf’s hip with his left hand. “You wanted me to sleep with a woman so you could have something new to fantasize about, something new to get off to.”
“It wasn’t!” Yusuf protests. His hands clutch at Nicolò’s back.
“Hmm, I’m not sure I believe you,” Nicolò replies. He pushes his left knee in between Yusuf’s legs, encouraging the other man to rock against him. “It is doing something for you, clearly. Are you imagining what I looked like underneath her? What I looked like with my tongue in her cunt?”
Yusuf’s breath hitches. “Was she on top of you?”
“For some of it, yes,” Nicolò says.
“Did she ride your face?” Yusuf asks, his breath coming faster.
“No,” Nicolò says. He frowns. “Or, sort of. She was on her back, but the way she used my mouth and my nose was forceful.”
Yusuf groans. The nails of his right hand scratch Nicolò’s left shoulder blade; the cuts sting for a second before they start to heal.
“Did you make her come?” Yusuf asks.
“Twice,” Nicolò tells him, picking up the pace with his right hand.
“Did she make you come?” Yusuf asks.
“Not really,” says Nicolò. “I had to use my own hand to finish.”
Yusuf gasps wetly. “Your right hand?”
Nicolò continues stroking Yusuf off in lieu of answering. He is too tired to get down there, but he wishes he wasn’t so he could take Yusuf in his mouth and feel the other man on his tongue. He wants the heat and the taste and the texture of Yusuf over all of his senses.
“I do wish you had been there,” Nicolò admits. “I would have liked having you there. You deserve to know what we looked like, to have your curiosity satisfied.”
“Probably for the best that I wasn’t,” Yusuf pants; Nicolò can tell from his tone that Yusuf is joking back with him now. “I would have tried to hold your hand the entire time.”
Nicolò beams at him. “I would have liked that.”
Yusuf is not and never has been quiet. It is one of the many things Nicolò loves about him. Yusuf falls over the edge with a shout, pulling Nicolò even closer. Nicolò buries his face in the crook of Yusuf’s neck, happy to be held while Yusuf comes down from his high.
“I bet you looked good,” Yusuf says after a while, his voice a bit hoarse. “During. You always look good.”
Nicolò pulls back to kiss him on the lips. Nicolò wipes his right hand off on Yusuf’s hip, then winds his arms around Yusuf’s neck. He kisses the right corner of Yusuf’s mouth, then the bridge of his nose, then his right cheekbone and the corner of his right eye.
Yusuf laughs at last. He chases Nicolò’s lips with his own as Nicolò kisses his forehead, the tip of his nose, the edge of his jaw. Nicolò lets Yusuf catch him once Yusuf’s breathing has evened out some. Nicolò is actually halfway hard, he realizes, but he doesn’t have the motivation to do anything about it or to have Yusuf do anything about it. Nicolò has done enough for one day. He can handle going to sleep without scratching that itch.
As if reading his mind, Yusuf starts running the knuckles of his right hand across Nicolò’s stomach, skimming lower and lower with each pass.
“You came once for her,” Yusuf murmurs, his lips close enough to brush Nicolò’s, “but you have one more in you just for me, don’t you?”
Nicolò heaves a sigh. He grabs Yusuf’s right wrist and lowers his partner’s hand down to his groin. “The things I let you talk me into.”