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Percy just wants to piss him off because, sure, Nico's sexy when he's on his knees.
He's sexy when he's got Percy pressed up against the kitchen counter. He's sexy when his hair is dripping wet and they're in the shower and he's trying to get a grip on Percy's hips, but his hands keep slipping. Nico's sexy with his head between Percy's legs, doing that thing with his tongue that gets Percy off in seconds.
But Nico is sex when his eyes are narrowed, and he looks like every breath is painful. When his nostrils are flared and he's got Percy backed up against the wall of their bedroom. When one hand is by Nico's face and the other is in a fist and Percy can see the thick lines of his veins under the taut skin and the muscles in his arms flex when he leans in.
"Don't make me do this," he whispers, but it's more of a growl really. He pushes Percy's legs apart with his own, settles his knee between Percy's thighs. "Tell me it was nothing."
Percy wants to laugh because this is exactly what he wants. To see the blood rush to Nico's cheeks, to see him struggling not to lose control. To see him press his fist to the curve of Percy's jaw like it's taking everything in him not to pound into him with his knuckles, not to go further than careful bruises. He wants to wake up the next morning and press his fingers into the marks of his skin and feel them pulse, blue and black reminders, the raised trail of a fiery welt. The deep red grooves down his thighs where Nico's teeth and nails broke his skin.
But he can't tell Nico that.
It's pretty damn embarrassing. How would he even start? Hey, you know that one time when you got a bit carried away and you slapped me? Yeah, do it again.
No, he'll pass on the awkward conversation if he can. He doesn't really need it anyway. Nico's always been so easy for Percy to read. Tack on the jealousy he seems to have coursing through his veins 24/7 and all it takes is a chance encounter with Annabeth, and a carefully placed hand, to have Nico seconds away from punching her and Percy harder than he's been in days.
"I don't know what you're talking about," he says, the memory of his hand on Annabeth's lower back burned into his mind. He watches Nico's clench his jaw, let out a slow breath. Then he cups Percy's face in his wide palm, lifts his chin, stares down at him.
"Earlier. With Annabeth?"
The words drop down onto his chest like dead weights and he has to bite down on his lip not to moan. Nico can feel him, right? God, his knee is right. Fucking. There. But Percy shakes his head.
"We were just talking," he starts, but Nico cuts him off, "You want to fuck her, don't you?" he slurs a little, "I can tell."
Percy shakes his head. He narrows his eyes at him, watches him like he's not quite sure what his punishment will be.
Their faces are so close now, he can see how red-rimmed Nico's eyes are- can smell the harsh bite to his breath, the crude lacing of alcohol.
Which definitely shouldn't be as attractive as it is, he just- Nico's raw when he's angry. He's unhinged. Add in a few drinks and Percy knows before they've even properly began that he won't be sitting straight for days.
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