A/N: Wrote this as an AU futurefic. Warning: NC-17ish sexual-content at end and canon-divergence. Enjoy and review! -N

Waking up naked and spooning an equally naked Rachel Elizabeth Dare — his boss's freaking daughter — isn't exactly what Nico di Angelo expected.

Well, after what they'd done last night, he isn't that surprised.

She's pressed up against him, curling into his abdomen like an affectionate cat, her bare skin sending shivers down his spine, head lying on his bicep instead of the pillow. He has an arm wrapped around her tiny waist securely, grip surprisingly firm. Their legs are tangled together underneath the sheets, the smooth skin of her ankle wrapped around his calf. Her fiery red curls are all he can currently see — just a forest of never ending fire. His nose is pressed into it and all he can smell is the scent of oranges and Manhattan on those slippery curls. He just wants to stay and get lost in that delicious smell and the brushing of her creamy skin against his own —

Or not.

Yanking his arm off her slowly, trying his very best not to wake her up, he disentangles himself from the sheets, which aren't much, since she's the one who always steals them in the middle of the night anyway. Now he's standing in the middle of her posh-looking, genie-lamp-worthy bedroom.

And not a stitch of clothing is present on his body or on the floor of the bedroom scattered with art supplies. Impossible. He's quite aware of what occurred last night. His clothes have to be around here somewhere . . .

Of course. The kitchen.

This all happened due to some stupid text she sent him. It was pretty cryptic, then she dialled the same number and once he answered, he could tell from the pounding beat of the bass in the background and the slight slur to her words, not to mention that cute little giggle that sends chills down his spine, he could tell she dialed the wrong number while drunk.

When he picked her up on his motorcycle, he then noted that she wasn't completely drunk. She wasn't swaying off her feet or laughing uncontrollably at random things. She at least noticed him and even had the balance to run a finger underneath the collar of his shirt and trace along his collarbone with those methodical fingers of hers. She'd thanked him for the ride and was about to hand the helmet back when she suddenly pressed it to her stomach and smiled at him shyly.

"Would you like to come inside?" she'd asked, polite enough, but he couldn't focus with the movement of her full lips and the blinking of those coppery lashes.

He couldn't say no, of course.

And that's how he ended up making out with her in the kitchen, sprawled on the floor while coaxing two orgasms out of her. Her hair was splayed out against the dark wood in fiery contrast and her cheeks were as flushed as her hair, nails scraping down on the wood. He'd groaned into her ear, already naked, that they should move on to the bedroom and he swung her up bridal style, crashing down on the bed and getting lost in the silky sheets.

Okay, focus. Nico's muttering to himself as he stalks into the kitchen and sees his black ripped jeans on the floor. He rolls his eyes and shoves them on, since his boxers don't seem to be anywhere in sight. Where did that woman toss them? They hang off his hips loosely and he shrugs at the idea to make himself a cup of coffee. He knows how heavy a sleeper Rachel is.

Yes, he knows that because he's slept with her before. He's going to get himself fired and he just doesn't care.

Her dad's his boss and he's her bodyguard since everyone's out to get the daughter of multi-billionaire, Warren Dare. He wasn't exactly jumping for joy when Percy suggested it, but the salary's good and Rachel was an attractive, outgoing girl. Polar opposite, really, but she fascinates him.

He slams the kettle down in frustration. He needs to find the rest of his clothes now.

"What the hell did that stove do to you?" a voice behind him inquires, soft and teasing and he can just imagine the smirk plastered all over her face. Damn, she emerged faster than he anticipated. Nico doesn't give her the satisfaction of turning around.

"I don't know. You were the one who pressed me up against it, weren't you?"

"Oh, you blame the stove for not defending you?"

"Excuse me, but furniture agrees with me better than kitchen equipment." His eyes flick over the whole atmosphere, searching for any of his clothing and when he spins around on his heel, he swallows.

Hard.

Rachel's wearing his shirt, one of his favorites. It's black obviously, with a nice Death Eater mark all over it. It usually makes him sexy enough to attract girls, but Rachel looks like a complete sex goddess with it. All he can see besides it are legs. She's got exquisite legs. They're long and toned and the shirt hits high on her thighs as she pads forward, showing off way too much of that gorgeous skin of hers. The curves seem to be made of a dream or something. She raises a hand to scratch her head and her hair's now done up in some messy bun, stray curls framing her face artfully and he's always found this style annoyingly sexy on her. And she knows it.

"That's my shirt," is all he grumbles, crossing his arms over his bare chest.

"Profound," Rachel yawns.

"I'm going to need it back."

"What are you doing?" she says instead of answering.

"I was trying to sneak out before you woke up and we both realized what a mistake this was."

"Oh, come on. Admit it. You had a great night."

"You don't know that. What makes you so smug, Dare?"

"Kind of figured it out when you were stomping around the kitchen like someone desperately trying to get my attention. Were you trying to wake me up?"

"In your dreams."

"Why don't you stay for a while? My dad's out of town for a couple of days." He doesn't need to meet her eyes to know what she's implying. That's another thing he likes about her. She's a rebel and loves to bend the rules, just like him, but in a wilder and sexier way.

"Sorry, can't. Percy needs me by his place right now."

"Uh-huh," Rachel replies doubtfully. "And if this was a mistake, why'd you come? You're the one who was running into the house like a little lost puppy."

"Sorry, but aren't you the one who got drunk at some douche-bag's party? I thought you did something stupid and I needed to fix it."

"You knew exactly what you were being invited in here for."

"Where's your proof?"

"Well, you were wearing that pair of boxers I got you for your birthday last year, weren't you?"

"Oh, please. I just really like that pair." The lie isn't even convincing to him.

Rachel nods proudly. "Italian silk. Gotta love 'em."

"Alright, you're the one studying my freaking underwear," he snorts. "Please do not start obsessing over me. It's an unhealthy habit. And so's this." He gestures with a circular gesture between both of them. "This is a one-time-only mistake, got that?"

"So, what? You're breaking up with me? You don't really want that, do you?" The kettle suddenly goes off, spraying steam with a threatening hiss, missing his ear by an inch. Rachel steps closer, Nico ignoring the hypnotic swish of her hips, reaching one arm through the loop between his hip and arm to switch off the burner and using the other hand to rip out the elastic, tossing it carelessly to the side. Her hair tumbles down her shoulders in the way she knows drives him crazy and his fingers are itching to tangle themselves through it.

"Fine, I'll take a mental picture to prevent this from happening again. Deal?"

Nico narrows his eyes. "I'm going to need my shirt back."

Rachel is now flush against him, and she rolls her hips and he bites his lip to suppress this noise from his throat. He knows she's not wearing anything underneath the shirt. "Is that an order, Ghost King?" she murmurs seductively in his ear, nipping at his lobe once, hard and sexy. Oh, does she have to use his gaming avatar name? It sounds too good on her lips.

"You going to follow it, Dare?" he challenges. She pulls away and spread her arms out wide, modeling her body almost expertly.

"Take a good last look," she purrs. Nico's jaw clenches tighter, almost trying to glare down the shirt's impressive power. After a long pause of his eyes raking up and down her frame, Rachel knows she's got him. "What do you wanna do now?"

Nico's tone is as dark and alluring as himself. "I want to throw you on this counter and never let you leave."

"Then what's stopping you?"

And, in a blink, he has her pressed against the counter, knee in between her legs, lips attacking, her hands sliding from the sides of his face for one to dig into his shoulder while her other hand slides its fingers into his hair, scratching her nails into his scalp like she's done this a million times before, which she has and the sensation is incredible. He can already feel how wet she's getting as Rachel moans against his lips and he pushes his own fingers through her curls, feeling them curl around him, inhaling the taste of her, like oranges and almonds and art.

"I'm flattered," she giggles, indicating the bulge in his pants.

"Don't be, Dare."

They continue to kiss, lazily and languidly, until their kisses become harder and dirtier than the last ones. He reaches under his shirt to brush his knuckles against her folds. She gasps, slowly dissolving into a moan as his fingers curl into her, the other hand tracing patterns on her bare hip. She coils those spider-long legs around his waist, pressing them even closer together. His fingers are replaced by his tongue working against her folds, kissing up her inner thigh before entering her and she comes, white light exploding across her vision, eyelids fluttering, moaning out his name. As she comes down from her third high, he plants a rather hot kiss on her mouth and with his lips still slanted on hers, says,

"We can't do this anymore, Rachel." Nico grinds hard against her, causing enough friction for her to feel so close again and she rolls her hips against his own and yeah, that feels pretty amazing. In the back of his mind, he knows how unhealthy this is and that not only is he getting himself fired, but Percy will kick his ass from Brooklyn and back.

"Okay," Rachel growls, grabbing him hard that he snarls himself and stroking up and down his length with tantalizing fingers. Her voice makes his stomach lurch uncontrollably, just like her touch. "Sorry to see you go."

"Yeah," Nico breathes as he thrusts into her, hips angling and rolling on hers and she grasps him by the hair, still wearing his shirt. "Sucks."

REVIEW AND FAVORITE, I beg you.