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Jerusalem, 1126
He had been dead for thirty-three years. He had seen others grow old and die, some in the war and others in the comforts of their homes, but Yusuf still looked the same as he did the day he died. The day he was murdered. Looking across the fire, Yusuf stared into the ocean blue eyes of his murderer and tried not to lose his thought. Again.
Nicolo had that effect on him. His beauty, when he bathed, was unparalleled. There was no one like Nicolo in the world, Yusuf was sure of it. It was impossible for it not to be true. If there was a world filled with people just like him, no one would be able to get anything done. Yusuf certainly couldn’t.
In the thirty years since they had made peace with one another, Nicolo had become Yusuf’s closest companion. His dear friend. His moon in the endless night of their lives. He cared for him more than he had anyone else in his entire life, and the man was driving him insane.
They made their way into town to rest for the next few days, their bodies sore and tired from the last days of battle. Since they were proclaimed dead by their respective sides, Yusuf and Nicolo had been helping refugees. They reunited families, helped the elderly, and rescued children who were lost and injured. After a particularly difficult quest to find a lost mother and her newborn child that ended in both Yusuf and Nicolo facing death once more, they needed something for themselves.
The problem came when the food was brought to their room. Large portions of everything they could order and a large pitcher of fresh water. Water that glistened on the plush, pink skin of Nicolo’s bottom lip as he drank deeply. He took pieces of fruit in between his hands and bit into them with an indulgent moan; his pretty eyes fluttering closed as the sweet juices burst over his tongue.
He was exquisite. He was beauty personified. He was reaching for another piece of fruit.
Before Nicolo could pick another date, Yusuf reached out and grabbed his wrist.
Nicolo blinked up at him.
“Yusuf?” He said softly.
“I am sorry, Nicolo,” Yusuf said with an anxious laugh. “But I must confess something to you,”
“You wish to make a confession?” Nicolo said.
“Not,” Yusuf sighed. “Not a confession, no. I simply wish to tell you something,”
“What is it?” Nicolo asked.
“Nicolo,” Yusuf began again, taking Nicolo’s hands into his and holding them gently, running the pads of his thumb over Nicolo’s knuckles. “Nicolo, you are more important to me than anyone or anything else in this world. Your existence is like the sun to me. It is necessary. It is my life force,”
Nicolo frowned, the words no doubt confusing for him, before his eyes widened in surprise.
“Yusuf,” He said. The name slipped from Nicolo’s lips in a whisper.
“I adore you, Nicolo,” Yusuf continued. “I wake every morning wishing to see your face and I go to sleep at night with visions of you in my dreams. I –,” Yusuf squeezed his eyes closed before shaking his head and steeling his gaze. “I love you, Nicolo of Genova. I love you,”
“Oh, Yusuf,” Nicolo gasped. His eyes filled with tears as his hands trembled in Yusuf’s.
“Nicolo, tell me you feel the same,” Yusuf begged. “Please, my love, my heart can’t take your rejection. Please, say you love me, too,”
Nicolo’s pale face burned red at Yusuf’s words. He moved one hand from Yusuf’s hold and wiped the tears from his eyes. He smiled, sniffing quietly, before nodding his head.
“Yes, Yusuf,” He said with a wide smile and light laughter. “Yes, I do love you,”
Yusuf dropped Nicolo’s other hand and pulled his arms close to his side, his empty hands clenching into fists and he jammed his arms into the air with an infectious smile and loud shout.
“Yes!” He cried as he got to his feet and began jumping through the room, continuing with his celebratory cheers. “Yes, yes, yes!”
Nicolo laughed and reached for Yusuf, pulling back to sit next him, as he shushed him with a smile.
“Yusuf, lower your voice,” Nicolo chuckled. “The other guests will hear you,”
“I do not care,” Yusuf said, holding Nicolo’s face in his hands. “I do not care! I love you with all my soul, and you love me back. You love me back!” He leaned forward but stopped himself before their lips could meet.
No. No, he must wait. Nicolo deserved better. He deserved true courting. Romance. He deserved –
Nicolo pulled him forward and kissed him deeply, their lips moving together like missing pieces.
Yusuf shuddered beneath his hesitant touch, moaning against his lips as they deepened their kiss, their lips parting just enough for Yusuf to slip the tip of his tongue into Nicolo’s mouth, massaging against the top of his tongue. Leaning forward, Yusuf held the back of Nicolo’s head as they laid down, leaning over him with one arm braced beside his head.
He would not go further tonight. He promised himself that. But this, this he could have. The gentle touch of Nicolo lips and his quiet gasps muffled beneath his loving kiss. Yes, Yusuf would indulge in this, would allow himself to gorge on the sensation of reciprocated love, and tonight he would lie beside Nicolo with him wrapped in his arms.
The door burst open and a shriek of surprise came from one of the inn employees as Yusuf and Nicolo fumbled away from each other, their faces flush and their arousal showing through their thin robes.
“Oh no,” Yusuf muttered as they scrambled to their feet, pounding footsteps coming closer as one of the maids continued to yell about what the two of them were doing.
“Run!” Nicolo yelled as he grabbed his travel pack and sword before leaping out the window.
Yusuf glared at the guards as he prepared to follow. To think they would ruin a perfectly wonderful evening.
Wurzburg, 1620
Josef adored his sisters, but it would be a lie to say that they didn’t get in the way of his plans at times.
When he decided to surprise Nikolaus with dinner, they had arrived earlier and eaten most of their feast. When he planned a romantic walk through the forest, they joined them and turned it into a hunting trip. When he hoped to share his bed at night, he would be dragged by Andromache to the local tavern, expected to drink himself into a stupor.
He wanted one evening with his love. Nikolaus had worked hard to help the local villagers. When he wasn’t assisting the midwives, he was caring for the orphans at the local church, and when he wasn’t with them, he was helping in the local farms, preparing the crops for harvest. At the end of every day, Nikolaus would come stumbling into the house and fall face first into their bed, dead to the world in seconds.
Josef missed his Nikolaus. He wanted to spoil him, to care for him, to show him a moment of peace in this hectic home they had found themselves in.
The opportunity finally arrived when Andromache and Quynh decided to spend the night at the tavern, conning the local men out of their coin for the evening, and elated by his luck, Josef set straight to work.
The stew was finished just as Nikolaus came thumping through the door, kicking off his muddy shoes with an angry huff. He shrugged out of his cloak and hanged it on the hook before turning with a tired smile which quickly disappeared into a confused frown.
“Josef?” He said as he stepped into the house, his feet sinking into the plush furs spread across the wooden floors.
“Good evening, my heart,” Josef said as he brought the stew to the table. He tossed aside the rag and crossed the room in only a few steps, taking Nikolaus’ face in his hands and greeting him with a deep kiss. “Oh, how I’ve missed you,” He whispered against Nikolaus’ lips, staring into his wide, glazed eyes.
“And I you,” Nikolaus said as he ran his calloused hand down Josef’s cheek. “But…” Nikolaus gestured at the dinner before them. “What is this?”
“A simple moment,” Josef explained. “Just for the two of us,”
“Oh, Josef,” Nikolaus sighed, running his hand down Josef’s chest. “You are a sweet, wonderful man,”
“All for you, Niko,” Josef said. “My Niko. My heart yearns for you. My mind is haunted by you. My body aches for you. Niko. Nicolo,” Josef felt Nikolaus shiver in his arms at the mention of his real name. “Nicolo, let us have tonight. Let me feed you food made by my own hand, let me hear the laughter in your voice, let me make love to you like tonight were our last night together. With worship and need,”
Nikolaus’ face flushed and his hands tightened in the fabric of Josef’s shirt, tugging him close enough for the tips of their noses to touch and their breath to mix. He tilted his head to the side and reached to meet Josef’s lips when the door opened with a slam and two women fumbled through with raucous laughter.
“Brothers!” Andromache called as she threw her arms in the air while Quynh stumbled on to the floor, giggling to herself as she lay on the furs and moving her arms and legs as though she were playing in the snow.
Andromache leapt towards them and grabbed Josef by the neck, pulling him down to rub her fist into his scalp. She laughed as Josef struggled to free himself before her eyes landed on Nikolaus’.
“You look awful,” She said without any concern for how it might make him feel. “Josef should take you out for a night,” She slapped her hand on Josef’s back and dropped him to the ground before raising her nose in the air and taking a sniff.
“Food!”
Paris, 1830
Joseph gasped as Nicholas grabbed his hips, turning him quickly and pressing him against the wall. He let his head fall to the side as Nicholas’ lips continued to travel across the sensitive skin of Joseph’s neck. He curled his hands against the wall and pushed his hips back, moaning as he met Nicholas’ growing arousal.
Just as Nicholas’ hands fell to grab hold of Joseph’s breeches, a pounding came to the door and Andromache called out to them from the other side.
“Hurry up, it’s Sebastien,”
Nicholas growled under his breath and pushed away from Joseph, kicking his foot against the bed and snatched his white shirt from the floor. He tugged it on over his head as he grumbled about ridiculous French men and their refusal to deal with their real feelings.
It had been three months since Angélique le Livre’s death, and the newest immortal had spent them in a drunken stupor. His sons were still in Marseille, and Andromache refused to let him see them. It was too risky. Too close. Sebastien did not take that well either.
Joseph liked Sebastien. He was funny and smart, with an adventurous streak that Joseph admired. He was becoming a dear friend despite his habit of irritating Nicholas to no end.
(Joseph knew Nicholas was secretly fond of the newest immortal. If he wasn’t, he wouldn’t make sure he had water by his side whenever he returned from the tavern.)
They hurried through the damp streets, cursing their luck that Sebastien would choose to cause such a ruckus in the middle of a stormy night, until they heard the unmistakable sound of a fight. Two men stumbled out of the door, falling to the ground and rolling around, hitting and slapping at one another as the small crowd coming after them cheered.
“Sebastien! Sebastien!” Andromache yelled as they fought their way through the crowd.
Joseph made his way through first, shortly followed by Andromache, while Nicholas took it upon himself to try and separate another smaller fight that had broken out in the crowd.
Joseph grabbed for Sebastien, trying to pull him away, only to be shoved aside by whatever drunken fool he had picked a fight with. Joseph raised his hands, trying to signify that he meant no harm, only for the stranger to spit out a word that Joseph was all too familiar with. A cold chill ran down his spine as laughter in the crowd doubled, only to be changed to cheering shouts when Sebastian tackled the man to the ground again, punching him as he dared him to say it again.
(The next morning, next to his glass of water, Sebastian would find a freshly baked pastry lovingly prepared by Nicholas in thanks.)
United States of America, 1961
Joe’s love for Nicky was like the sea; never ending, always flowing, and, at times, even dangerous. Like when he eyed him from the back of the bus, banned from sitting with the man he loved because of the colour of his skin.
God, he hated America.
Nicky sat near the front. His thick hair stopped at the base of his neck, cut to frame his face, his top lip was covered by a rather impressive mustache, but his piercing eyes were forever the same. Only now, they were clouded with desire.
Nicky looked over his shoulder at Joe, a slow smirk curling at his perfect lips, and let his eyes glide over Joe’s body. The heat of his gaze felt like roaming hands touching his body, lingering in all the right places. When Nicky met Joe’s eyes again, he raised his hand to pull the stop and stood to leave as the nearby park came into view.
Joe winked as Nicky moved towards the doors.
Twenty minutes later, Joe had Nicky in his arms, his strong thighs wrapped around his hips as they grind their hips against one another, lost in a breathtaking kiss. He moaned as Nicky ran his hand through Joe’s hair, messing up the neatly styled curls, and pressed harder against Nicky’s hard, thick –
Sirens blared. Blue and red lights flashed. Joe cursed as he set Nicky back on to the floor and began hurrying out of the park.
“Fucking cops,” Nicky cursed with a growl.
Paris, 2022
Nile had planned to get them to call off the banishment as soon as they left Booker at the beach. She liked to think that it would have worked, too, but she didn’t really need to wait that long for the sad looks and regrets to set in. It still took them two years for them to pull their heads out of it, though.
Booker’s apartment was nice, but a bit small for six people to squeeze into. Everyone was shocked to find Quynh living with him when they arrived, quickly learning that she had appeared months after Booker returned to France. They had spent the last year and a half adjusting her to modern life, telling her everything she needed to know to survive before filling her in on the things she missed.
Right now, Quynh was dragging Booker and Andy around the boutiques. Apparently, she had expensive tastes. And Booker’s wallet.
Nile hadn’t seen Joe or Nicky all morning but safely assumed that the two of them were enjoying the morning together again. For the last week, they had gone for breakfast at the nearby cafes, enjoying each other’s company without four other people to annoy them.
It was strange having the place to herself, but Nile would be lying if she said she didn’t like it. After years spent stuck to each other like glue, Nile was growing irritated by all the little things her new family did. Small habits becoming loud, obnoxious traits that grated at her every nerve.
Yes. A morning to herself sounded perfect.
She thought about taking a bath, but didn’t know when the others would be back, so instead she decided to treat herself to a hot shower and refresh. She began undoing her braids slowly, massaging her scalp once the hair was free, and closed her eyes as she headed towards the bathroom. With a sigh, she stepped into the spare bedroom, where Joe and Nicky had dumped everyone’s things, too tired to sort through everything at the late hour they arrived.
When Nile opened the door, and opened her eyes, she looked across the room to find –
“Oh my God!” Nile screamed as she pulled the door shut with a slam as the two men shouted in surprise.
Nile clutched at her chest, her eyes wide, as her face heated in embarrassment. She had spent two years avoiding something as horrifying as this, but now, now it was for nothing. Nile wanted to see many things in her immortality, but what Nicky looked like as Joe was between his knees…
Well, that certainly wasn’t one of them!
Two doors opened as voices came from all directions. One side was Booker lamenting that just because the sales assistant thought something would suit Quynh didn’t mean they had to buy it while on the other side Nicky did his best to apologise while Joe grumbling something about knocking.
The two groups came to a stop in the hallway, Nile stuck between them with her hands covering her face, and shared confused glances before a look of realisation came over Andy’s face.
“She saw you two, didn’t she?” Andy asked with a smirk.
“’Fraid so,” Joe shrugged.
“I am so sorry, Nile,” Nicky apologised again. “We didn’t think anyone was home,”
“And you could have knocked – ow!” Joe whined when Nicky slapped his arm.
“Come on, ma mie,” Booker said as he wrapped an arm around Nile’s shoulder. “I think you and I could use a drink.”