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He doesn't know exactly how much time they spent in the armoury, his back against the wall and Will's fingers under his shirt, tracing his hipbone.
Probably, it was minutes, but when they pull away, Nico is torn between feeling like it was far too little time, and feeling like he's lived an entire lifetime during the kiss. Like the version of himself that didn't know what Will tasted like was someone that existed so long ago he could scarcely remember what it was like.
But no matter how eternal it felt, he supposes Will's lips couldn't have stayed attached to his forever. Will slows their press of lips gradually, returning to close-mouthed kisses, then trailing down Nico's jaw, finding himself with his nose in the crook of Nico's neck. He breathes in slowly, deeply, regaining his composure. Perhaps he's as reluctant as Nico to break this bubble around them, to move away from this feeling of floating.
Nico's fingers have since loosened the grip on Will's hair, and all he can do is keep gently moving them through it, relishing in the chance to finally study how soft it is.
They breathe for a while, like that. Breathe in each other, and the gold that seeps out around them. Will breaks the silence first, and Nico can feel his lips ghosting against his skin as he speaks: "I like you."
Nico snorts "Yeah?"
Will pulls away to frown at him, but his lips carry a betraying smile. "Don't laugh at me. I'm trying to confess."
"I think your tongue in my mouth conveyed the message well enough." Nico matches his smile, raises an eyebrow. "But by all means, continue."
The look in Will's eye turns more sincere, then. "I've liked you since we were fifteen."
Nico's smile is maybe a little sad, a little wobbly, so he pulls Will in for another kiss, how could he not? This one slow and softer, making Nico's bones feel liquid in a whole new way.
He pulls away. "Me too."
"I know." Will says gently, moving his face back to Nico's neck, lazy in mapping it out with his lips.
His hands shift where they're holding Nico's hips, slow movement under his shirt, like he's trying to memorise the shape of Nico's abdomen. Nico's head lulls back against the wall- despite the softness of Will's touch, he is reduced to melting wax by the press of a palm against the sensitive skin of his stomach, and the warm breaths by his neck.
"Then why did it take you so long to kiss me?"
Its taking quite a lot out of him, finding the strength to contribute to the conversation at hand. He has to fight against both the stream of thought that's chanting it wants those damned hands on every inch of his body, and the muffled voice from the back of his mind that's screaming 'Holy shit, we're really doing this'.
Will is, seemingly, having the same problem, because he abandons their conversation in favour of finding a spot behind Nico's ear that makes his breath hitch, and his fingers twitch in Will's hair. He can feel the bastard smile against his ear, then continue teasing that same spot.
"Will," He tries, but it slips out less like a call and more like a sigh. He tries again, pulling slightly at Will's hair to detach him from his neck. "Will."
Will follows where Nico's fingers are leading him, looks at Nico in question, like he's completely forgotten they were mid conversation just seconds ago. His lips are kissed red and his eyes glow in the dim light of the armoury, and woah, Nico never could have imagined he'd be on the receiving end of a look like that.
"We should... talk." Nico says. Because it's true. Because it's been too long since they stayed behind, and eventually they'll have to head back, lest someone walks in looking for them.
"Sorry," Will says, not looking sorry at all. Gods, his accent is almost completely southern now, voice low "You're addictive."
A full-bodied shudder wrecks him at Will's words, at the husk of his voice. His head drops slightly so their foreheads are touching, trying to collect himself, and Will has the nerve to look smug. "You can't say stuff like that that to me while I'm trying to be rational."
Will just huffs a laugh, and it takes Nico a moment to remember what his question was. He repeats it, then: "If you knew I liked you, all this time, why did it take you so long to do this?"
Will's eyes are still soft with a smile, but something in his voice is heavy. "Because I'm a coward."
And Nico frowns, because that is not true.
Will continues: "Because i really like you, Nico."
Will is looking straight into Nico's eyes, trying, and managing, to communicate just how serious he is.
"Oh." Is all Nico manages himself.
Will smiles, a bit tentatively "Yeah. Oh."
"So, you-..."
"I was scared to lose you." Will says. He says it easily, like he does anything, but there's a layer of nervousness under it that Nico's never seen in him before. Will leads one of his hands down back to the centre of his chest, where he can still feel Will's heart thumping wildly. "I'm still scared to lose you."
Nico can feel his eyebrows unfurrow and his expression soften.
"You won't lose me." He clenches his fingers around Will's shirt, uses it to pull him into another kiss. Will melts into it, with that sort of starved exhaustion. Like he would drop anything at any time in favour of crumbling against Nico's lips. Nico pulls away, the breath of his words still ricocheting off of Will's. "I promise."
It's enough, for that evening. There's still so much to say, to ask, to think about. But the promise rings in Nico's head that whole night, a long night of being far to full of excitement and nerves to fall asleep. The promise that they have all the time in the world to figure it out.
•
They haven't talked about it yet, not much more than that evening. Will had suggested a picnic that weekend, by the strawberry fields, and Nico's heart fluttered like a child's when he agreed. But they still had a week of camp duties and infirmary work ahead of them, and in those few days, they got little time alone.
Oh but Nico was a fool for ever believing that he would be able to spend those days keeping his hands to himself, now that he knows of the sounds Will can make if he tugs at his hair just right.
Urged with the newfound bravery of their confession, Will's touches become even more daring, more prolonged. They don't get much time alone that week, no, but they spend most of their time at camp near each other, and that gives Will plenty of openings to sneak his hand on the small of Nico's back, to brush his knuckles against Nico's, to sneak a strand of Nico's hair behind his ear when no one's looking.
It's infuriating, and its exhilarating, and it's really not Nico's fault he caves by Thursday, uses the opportunity that he saw Will about to enter through the back exit of the Big House to kiss him against the secluded wall.
And, oh, Nico hadn't hallucinated that night in the armoury. Will's lips were truly always that intoxicating.
Will laughs at him a little, at the way he sizes the one opportunity they have for five minutes alone to make out behind the Big House. But then Nico's tongue is swiping against his lower lip and Will stops trying to laugh into their kiss, instead climbs one hand into Nico's hair to tilt his head.
And once there are bruises blooming on the golden skin just under the hem of his shirt, Will finds it in himself to laugh again. "Couldn't wait till our date?"
"We're going on a date?"
Will rolls his eyes good-naturedly "No, Nico, I kissed you and then asked you to a romantic picnic as a friend."
•
Other than the pleasant hum constantly under his skin, one reminding him this is a date, the picnic is hardly different than their other hangouts. They've been the closest of friends for years now, despite the glaringly obvious and rather constant tension that friendship carried.
Nico likes it. Likes that it still feels like them, Will's easy jokes and kind eyes, light banter and flowing conversation. They spread out their blanket in the shade, but Will still manages to find a patch of late sunlight to position himself under, leaning against a tree as it beams into his face.
He's swallowing the last bites of the strawberry he plucked off, flicking away the green leaves that stay behind, and he's talking to Nico. He's talking about the infirmary, maybe, maybe about something that Kayla said or maybe not at all. Nico wouldn't know.
Will's eyes are glowing, truly glowing, in the sun, and there's a stubborn strand of hair curling down his forehead that's shining golden, and the freckles that dust his cheeks reach down to melt into his top lip. So Nico isn't really sure what he's saying.
He leans forward to kiss him, then, despite the blond being mid sentence. Nico doesn't hear any complaints, though. Just a small, surprised noise before he sinks back into it.
"I was saying something." He says, with no real annoyance in his voice, only a small smile. He's a hypocrite, anyway, because he leans down back into the kiss himself this time.
By the next time they remember to separate for air, Nico is practically in Will's lap, sitting down with his legs on the side, leaning heavily on Will's thigh, his hand supporting him from the other side of Will's hips.
"Nico, listen." His eyes dart around Nico's like he's barely able to not get distracted in them. Or perhaps like he's looking for his courage deep in the brown of them. "Not that I'm not... Enjoyin' this. But I..."
Nico looks at him carefully, tries to communicate with his eyes that he isn't afraid. He is- he's terrified. Terrified of how good this feels and how fickle it is, how delicate. But he doesn't need Will to know that yet. He just needs him to keep talking.
"I need to know how you feel. What... What do you want to do with this?"
And perhaps the Nico from a week ago would have been mortified to hear the words that now come from his own lips, but that Nico doesn't yet know the sacredness of Will's lips on his neck, his fingers under his shirt: "I want you."
He says it like it's simple, and Will smiles.
"I feel like you've had most of me for years now."
Nico's gaze is serious, searching within Will, the absurd azure glow of his eyes. "I don't want most."
Something shifts in Will's expression, at Nico's words.
"I want all of you." He swallows, fear bile in his throat. This bravery that he's built within himself is tested more heavily when faced with this golden face in front of him, than when it's faced with actual ancient monsters.
He sees the exact moment all restraint leaves Will, when he leans forward and his eyes slip closed before their lips even brush, and he's drowning, drowning in Nico.
And Nico is powerless to do anything but indulge, swing his leg over Will's thighs so he's now firmly in his lap. Will's hands easily move up Nico's thighs to hold onto the small of his back, sliding back under his shirt. His thumbs are rubbing slow circles into the flesh there, and the combination of that and the warm press of his lips makes something burning burst from Nico's chest right up until his skin, a pang of heat from head to toe. It curls in his stomach, or maybe lower, and it makes a static-like hum overwhelm everything he can sense, chase out any sensation that's not of Will.
The dizzying chant of More, more, more, in his brain is so overwhelming, he has to pull away before he starts trying to climb into Will's skin, or something equally terrifying.
He's almost panting, now, eyelids heavy, and perhaps the late afternoon sun has shifted, or perhaps Will's eyes have gotten darker as well.
"Are you okay?" Will manages, and Nico hums.
"Yeah. Yeah. It's just... a lot."
"D'you want to stop?" Will asks, and Nico almost cries at how gentle his voice is, how careful he is with this golden fruit between them.
Nico shakes his head. "No, no, I... I want..." He trails off, swallows thickly. Maybe that was the end of his sentence. He wants and wants and wants.
Will takes Nico's hand where it's cradling the side of his face, places soft kisses to his palm, to his pulse point. "I know. Me too." His kisses are so gentle, so unhurried, Nico feels himself calm. "We can take it slow."
Nico exhales slowly, only a little bit shaky, steadies himself. "Okay."
"Okay?"
"Okay."
Will smiles, keeps trailing kisses down Nico's scarred forearm. Holds his arm like it's delicate, like it's precious, and Nico's heart is so, so full.
"So you'll be mine?" Nico manages, after a few moments of finding the words he's not mortified to utter.
"'M already yours." Will says, unhelpfully, still pressing Nico's arm gently to his face, peeking at him through pale eyelashes. Nico almost rolls his eyes- the bastard just wants to make him say it.
"I mean like... For real. Like... telling people and stuff."
Will's smile is bordering on shit-eating now. "Pretty sure everyone knows I'm yours, too."
The sensation of warmth at those words almost overwhelms the annoyance.
"Will. You know what I mean."
"You're asking me to be your boyfriend?"
Nico flushes a little bit, his lower lip catching on his teeth as it spreads into a smile. "Yes, you dork."
And Will pretends to think about it. "Hm. I'll consider." Read: 'yes'.
But he's pulling Nico's arm so he's dropping back against him, and Nico has just a moment to utter "Motherfucker." before he's being kissed again.
It starts of in gentle, sweet gratitude of their new status, but it's not long before that feeling of heat he's abandoned is back, humming through his stomach. The movement of Will's lips is firm and steady and Nico finds it in himself to relax, to trust Will that they can go slowly.
Despite the fact that he's spent all of their kisses so far trying to commit them to memory, to memorise every sensation until he can feel it anytime he closes his eyes, every next kiss feels like something new anyway, like an invention.
So he abandons it all together, this need to clutch onto scraps in fear of one day losing them. For once, Will's clever fingers and gentle lips are convincing him he's allowed to just feel. Feel the pleasant hum of the simple pleasure of a kiss flow through his veins and blur his mind, like a drug, like a charm.
He lets his lips carry him down Will's jaw, down the sunkissed skin of his neck, giving every freckle and every surface the attention it deserves. It's with great pleasure that he remembers he can leave marks down his path, now that they've put a name to this thing between them. His teeth are slow and gentle in their exploration of the soft skin, but Will's hands tighten and twitch where they're holding Nico's sides at the sensation anyway.
"Angel," Will breathes, as if involuntarily.
And Nico doesn't think he's ever, ever, been addressed so softly like that. Is it really him that Will is referring to when he sighs 'angel' with so much adoration, so much desire in his voice? His hips twitch against Will's thighs, and Will's breath hitches. He smiles in spite of it.
"Have I finally found a nickname you agree with?" His r's are Texan and his 'I' is more like an 'Ah' and he sounds so breathless despite the teasing in his voice, Nico's head spins.
Nico just huffs, not able to think of a witty reply but not willing to give Will the satisfaction of a confirmation either.
Will, determined to get it anyway, shifts a little so his lips can almost reach the back of Nico's neck. He collects Nico's grown-out hair ever so gently with one hand, the other still under his shirt, passes it over Nico's other shoulder.
"Angel," He whispers again, almost experimentally, before attaching his lips to that sensitive area on the back of Nico's neck, the one his fingers trailed in the armoury.
It's like he's spilled oil over the fire brewing within Nico. The heat roars at the sensation and at the husk of Will's voice and the sound Nico makes is definitely not one he's made before. He pulls Will back to kiss him again, harder and more desperate, and because Will is a weak man when it comes to Nico's kisses, he returns it with the same vigour.
"My,-" Nico tries, between kisses. "My cabin."
Will smiles into their kisses. "You sure?" He places a kiss under Nico's jawline and gods, he's damn sure.
In lieu of answering, he grabs onto Will more firmly, distracts him with a deeper kiss as he pulls them into the shadows of their shade, leaving their picnic blanket abandoned by the strawberries.
Will looks like he's standing on a thin line between impressed and scandalised when he opens his eyes to meet the inside of Cabin Thirteen.
"Nico!" He laughs at the boy in his lap, pushes at him lightly.
"What? What else is that power for?" Nico laughs back, using Will's light push as an excuse to fall back into his sheets, leaving the blond kneeling between his thighs.
"Hm, I always assumed it had been for saving the world. But I guess kidnappin' your boyfriend is up there somewhere."
Nico's heart flutters at the casual way in which Will uses the term 'boyfriend', despite the fact that it is the one they agreed upon just a few kisses ago.
He sits back up so they're both upright over his pale white sheets, kisses him again sweetly. "Yeah, that's, like, the main point."
Their next kiss has Nico sinking back into the sheets, inky hair sprawling out onto the pillow. His fingers are featherlight on Will's face, and Will's hands hold his back as he lowers them horizontal.
Nico wants, wants to test out every emotion Will's lips can drag out of him, burns to know what every inch of their skin would feel like against each other. But that realisation- that he has time, that he has Will, has his touch and his care- has him surrendering to the moment. Has him tugging at the back of Will's collar gently. Will gets the message, pulls away just enough to abandon the shirt somewhere on the floor of the cabin.
"Gods," Nico's hand travels down Will's chest, over the ink interwoven with his skin. "You and your stupid fucking tattoo."
Will's stupid little smile drives him up the wall, truly. He finds a way to wipe it, tightening the grip of his thighs and rolling them around in his double bed, so Will ends up being the one with his hair like a halo over Nico's pillows.
Nico is somewhat shorter than Will, and not insignificantly more slender, but when half of your blood is that of one of the most powerful gods, not all of your strength is stored in muscle. Will knows this by now, from all his close inspections of Nico's sword fighting practice, but if the way his pupils blow wide is a way to judge, he rather appreciates it.
"Holy shit." He breathes, and Nico smiles.
"What?"
"That was the hottest thing that ever happened to me."
Nico laughs, then, despite his warming cheeks, rolls his eyes at Will. Despite the way his thighs are bracketing Will's, despite the heat in his stomach and the way Will's skin is flushed and his breaths come heavy: It's still them. It's still Will- gentle, clumsy, soft, beaming. It's still that same boy who's laugh Nico fell in love with, even in the dim light and in air dripping with tension.
He trails his hands down Will's torso, slender fingers grazing down defined muscle coated in soft, welcoming skin. His chest is covered in freckles too, and Nico is finally given the opportunity to act on a long lasting desire of his: he kisses down their trails. Perhaps it's too gentle, not heated enough. Rather, it's tender, slow and sacred, and Will sighs. (He will recall later- even the very beginnings of their relationship never felt much like a regular romance amongst demigods at camp. It's always been grander. He will remember these kisses, conclude what he always knew: it had never been puppy love, had never been just a spur of teenage attraction. Their kisses have always been timeless.)
Will's hands catch onto Nico's shirt while he's progressing down.
"Can I... Can I take this-..."
Nico raises up, considers it for a moment. Will has seen him shirtless, before. A few times by the lake, leaving the communal shower after game days, and that one wretched time in the infirmary. But never like this, never this close, never when Nico's this vulnerable. But he finds, quite easily, he trusts Will with this. Sure, there have been men with better self esteem than Nico, but he is not a fool. No one can kiss him like that, hold him like that, know him like that, like Will does, and then be chased away by the sight of scarred, tired ribs with the skin around them still stretching a little tight.
He crosses his arms, grabs the hems of his shirt and pulls it off in one swift motion.
The way Will looks at him, sprawled out and breathless on Nico's sheets, you would have thought Nico had grown a pair of actual angel wings, not just took off his shirt.
Will's hands raise to trace down his sides, making hairs raise all across his skin. His thumb grazes the sharp lines of Nico's abdomen, fingers curling around his waist, testing the softness of the skin over his ribcage. How is it possible, that this touch, not technically different from any other, makes this blessed tingling trail behind in its wake, like every cell that's being touched is lighting up alive?
Will forgets himself, perhaps spending a few too many moments studying the V of Nico's hipbones, the dips and hollows of his stomach, the soft muscle above his waistline. The heaving movement of his chest. He feels the tender care, the attention, send sparks all the way to his fingertips.
"My eyes are up here," He tries to joke weakly, nervousness in his voice betraying him.
Perhaps he shouldn't have said that, because Will obliges, snaps his gaze to Nico's. Not even in his dreams, was Will's look ever this wrecked.
"You'll be the death of me, angel."
Fuck, Nico wants to see him lose his mind.
What can he do, but fall back against his lips, then? Give into the push and pull of their movement, kiss Will with every bit of his want flowing through his touch.
Within the heat of it, his hips slip from where they were hovering above Will's, down against him. Even through two layers of denim, it's still grander than any sensation Nico has managed to experience in these turbulent years he's been alive. Perhaps it's not even his own desire that drives him so mad, perhaps it's the groan that frees itself from Will's throat when their hips collide. Pained and strangled and somehow adoring in all of that too.
If he wasn't yet, Nico was a goner now, for sure. He doesn't think he will be able to rest until he's heard every variation of that sound, until he's drawn it all out of him. He thinks he could rip Will's chest open, devour every bloody, tedious beat, never to raise his head until every soft groan and every melodic sigh is stuck in his teeth.
Will guides Nico into another kiss, messy and uncoordinated, and Nico's lost control of the movement of his hips, now that he's tasted relief, slow rolls making both of them shiver. Will is raising the two of them up, slow, breaking away from the kiss to whisper against Nico's lips.
"Lie back down?" He breathes.
Nico complies, ending up somewhat diagonal on the heaps of pillows that are available on his bed, with Will back between his thighs.
He's known, realistically, in these past few years, that he's loved. That he's cared for, that he's not alone anymore. It took some time, definitely, but that much he thought he had managed to accept, to let himself have.
But gods, he never thought he would be, could be, treated like this, not even by this soul, the gentlest one he's ever known.
Will is kissing down his exposed chest, his abdomen, and in his haze, Nico realises he's kissing down his scars. Not soothing them, not pitying them: worshiping them. He places kisses upon heated skin like he can't get enough, could never get enough, of the feel of it. And Nico, Nico thinks he could spend the eternity here, laying back with his hands by his head and his chest rising with his panting, letting Will convince him how much he cares using little words, mostly just his own trembling body. Perhaps the moisture in his eyes is from sweat, or heat. Most likely, it has something to do with the sheer tenderness of Will's hands and lips.
Those lips are against his collarbone, and Nico's hips twitch again, and Will frowns like it pains him in the loveliest ways.
"Nico," He tries to start against his neck, and Nico barely hears him, lost in the feel of it. "You have to tell me if you want me to stop, okay?"
He says it like Nico's word is the only force on this earth that could detach them, now.
It's nice, the knowledge that he could stop at any time, and that Will would just smile reassuringly, promise they don't have to rush. Really, the knowledge of Will's gentleness only spurs Nico on, and he can't imagine what he wants less than to put an end to this.
"Please, don't stop."
So Will doesn't: he returns his attention to Nico's chest, abdomen, trailing down scars until he's found every spot that makes Nico sigh, and marked it for future reference. There are patches of blooming red, then, down Nico's hipbone, and littered over those dips and hollows of his stomach Will had just been so hypnotised by, and it's only when his lips almost graze the top of Nico's jeans that he raises up with a question in his eyes, his hands hovering over Nico's belt buckle.
Nico nods, but Will keeps searching for an answer in his eyes.
"You want me to?"
Has he not made that obvious? "Do you want to?"
"Gods, yes."
"Then why are my pants still on?"
Will huffs a surprised laugh, and Nico smiles back.
"Yeah?"
"Yeah." Nico is surprised with how easily it comes to him, this devotion. Probably, a part of him has been ready for years, knew this was inevitably where they'd end up. Limbs tangled and breaths quick and love dripping. "I trust you."
Judging by the way Will kisses him as he helps him shrug his jeans off, he knows just how meaningful those words are, coming from Nico. He knows just how meaningful it is, that Nico is bare in front of him, bare in every way.
He takes Nico in like he's a world wonder, like he's all he's ever wanted. Nico's skin is olive and scarred and his hair must be awfully messy around his head and Will looks enraptured, bewitched. His hands trail up Nico's thighs, like one would admire a sculpture of marble, like it's a special sort of privilege to drag his fingertips along the scarred ridges.
"How..." He swallows thickly, like every inch of Nico's skin is testing his patience. "How do you want me?"
Will says 'How do you want me' like there's no debate in him already being Nico's, like there's only the question of how he wishes to consume him. Nico breathes in slowly to reply, Will giving him the chance to gather his response by lowering his lips back to Nico's collarbone.
He has so many answers to that question, images of all the possibilities flashing through his mind and making his blood heat as it rushes down. He rarely let himself indulge in fantasies as detailed as his possibilities are now, and he curses himself for it, because now that that box had opened, he can hardly think straight. Gods, especially with those lips on his neck.
"I..."
"We don't have to... To do anything, really. I don't want you to feel like you have to." He kisses Nico's cheek then, sweet and tender. "I'll still be here."
(If only he knew the image of his lips on the insides of Nico's thighs is already so detailed in his head he could paint it from memory.)
Nico would smile if he wasn't so out of his mind with want. But because he is, he just turns his head so their lips find each other. All he can think of to communicate is a breath of "Touch me," against Will's lips.
Seemingly it's good enough, because Will's lips stay attached to his skin but his hands free him from the last waistband on his body. And oh, he's never felt anything quite like Will's hand on him. One of his own hands flies behind him to hold onto the headboard, the other clutching at Will's neck, the blunt edge of his nails making the blond groan again.
"Will,"- Is turning out to be one of the few words he deems worthy of gasping, as Will's hand tests his grip and his eyes trace every micro-reaction Nico is giving him. His other hand is comforting on Nico's side, still obsessed with tracing the shape of his ribcage, chest, stomach.
"Relax, Nico," And Nico would, he would, but he's dreamt for so long of hearing his own name so strained on Will's lips, and he's isn't sure if he's groaning at that, or at Will's cleaver hand. "You can let go."
Nico finds it in himself to take deeper breaths, relax his muscles. His jaw slackens when he finds the pleasure curls even deeper when he accepts it, lets it wash over him. "'S good, Will. Feels good." He babbles, and had he been any more aware, he would have seen Will shiver. Instead, he just feels him kiss him, passionate but brief before he's rising back up to continue memorising every inch of Nico's flush skin.
"Gods, look at you." Will's awestruck voice keeps being oil over Nico's fire, blazing warmth erupting under his skin.
It's these words, along with the movement of Will's hips, that remind him he hasn't reciprocated. Will's hand is slow with the intention of savouring this moment, and it leaves Nico with just enough brainpower to unzip his fly and slip his hand under his waistband, who has time for discarding clothes anyways?
Will must have been more distracted by the task in front of him than Nico thought, because it seems like Nico's own hand on him comes as a surprise. A new, intoxicating noise slips out of his throat, and Nico can no longer tell which ones of his own have to do with what.
He copies Will in what he's doing, copies the knowledge he has of himself, and apparently it's working, because soon Will is reduced to as much of a mess as Nico is, taut and quivering like a bow string, words almost incoherent in the thickness of his accent.
Some of them are clear anyway, though. Such as: "Nico, Nico, angel,"
Heat builds and builds and builds, and- that! This, this here, this is what it feels like, the buildup to a climax worth the anticipation. This is where he ends up, when he starts with Will's hands on him. He's dropping and dropping into the bliss of it all, drunk on the feeling that should be familiar but is maddening on a whole new level. His hips move along to the messy, imperfect rhythms that they've managed to gather, and he thinks he can hear his voice transfer every coherent thought that his brain is managing to complete.
"Yes, yes, yes."
They're not very eloquent thoughts. But finally, he's swimming in this liberty of letting go, weightless and confident in being cared for. Will's hair sticks a little to his forehead and his irises are nothing but pupil with a small rim of blue around them, but he's somehow managing to keep them open, despite being glazed over in pleasure, to continue taking in the sight of Nico.
It's that realisation that tips him over. His back is arching and his thighs are trembling and maybe he's calling out Will's name, but it's all lost to the blinding light being set off behind his eyelids. He lets himself focus on the purest sensations of it, lets his body carry out its tremors until it's boneless. He can feel Will come to his end too, the sound of that sweet new nickname slipping by his ear. It's just that he can't quite tell where his pleasure ends and where Will's begins, which of the shivers are who's. They're two bodies, here on Nico's bed, but in this moment, that hardly matters. They could be one. They could be nothing but souls, spirits interwoven.
There used to be something inherently dirty, about Nico's desires. Something in the back of his mind scolding him for wanting this from Will, something filthy in the idea of this pleasure. But Will kisses his shoulder as their breathing levels, and he's sweaty and sticky and panting, and he doesn't think he's ever felt cleaner, purer, more human. There's nothing filthy about Will's touch, gods, how could those words ever go together? It's holy, sacred, these heavy breaths they share. Will flops back down onto his stomach next to him, the air cold against Nico's damp skin in his absence. But his hand is still over Nico's middle, like he's not quite ready to let go yet, or ever, for that matter.
He raises the hand to kiss Will's knuckles, feel the softness of his fingers against his own sword-calloused ones: No, nothing about this emotion blooming shamelessly in Nico's chest is tarnished. It's bright and lovely like daylight and it's their own, free from the doubt and pressure of their lives. The sunlight from his windows is turning pink and their young, human flesh harbouring wrecked souls creates its own divine glow, here, on the first bed he dares think of as his own.
"I take back what I said," Is how Will breaks the silence of their afterglow.
"What?" Nico asks with a small smile.
"That was the hottest thing that ever happened to me."
Nico snorts, locates his shirt to throw it against Will's head.