Fic: Just Let the Water Win
There are some things you get used to when you’re dating one of Poseidon’s kids. You measure an argument in inches of rainfall, and are secretly thrilled if you make it to the evening news. You spend rather longer in the shower than you used to, and who can blame you, because you know that nobody has a shower quite like yours. So you buy an umbrella; a black one, naturally, with a curved wooden handle, and you always know where your towel is.
Some things, however, you just never get used to. Seeing water rise up to meet Percy’s feet when he steps into it; holding him by the ankles, almost asking him not to, when he climbs out again. The near constant nudity, or almost nudity, always his arms, his legs, his chest, his back, his belly; so much skin, bared to the sun, or the moon. At least he doesn’t seem partial between the twins; he’s an exhibitionist with either.
This time, it’s daylight. Nico is propped up, calmly, under the shade of a convenient tree. His trousers tickle the top of his bare feet as he shifts to lean on his other leg, one hand in his pocket, one tucked through his belt loop, shirt sleeves rolled up, still below his elbows, his pale skin green and dappled in the shadows. He’s not smiling. No, really. That thing where his lips are curved upwards? It’s something else.
Percy is, predictably, practically naked. He’s scrambling over the rocks, heading for the water, wearing only a pair of superman boxers that Nico happens to know he was given by Annabeth. The sun loves him, the water loves him, it’s sickeningly easy to love him when he’s smiling that open, daft smile, standing on a rock that shouldn’t possibly support him, and waving to Nico, as if he hadn’t been watching him for the past ten minutes.
“Well you can’t see it from there.” The look on Percy’s face is just this side of smug, but definitely bordering on self satisfied. Nico raises an eyebrow, sceptically.
“If this is an attempt to take my clothes off, then there are easier ways;” gently mocking.
“Oh I know,” Percy’s eyes as wide as his smile, “I told you, I want to show you something.”
Nico fingers his scarf delicately, before draping it over a low hanging branch. “Is this something going to involve me getting wet?” Percy nods beatifically. Sighing, Nico unbuttons his shirt and jeans, folding them over the branch, leaving him in his black shorts. No matter how long they’ve been doing this, or how many times, Nico can’t quite believe that Percy Jackson, the hero, the one with the muscles and the tan, isn’t going to be disappointed with his paleness, his stubborn hair, his body that wears its hip bones and vertebra like medals.
As if he’s reading him, Percy shakes his head fondly. “Come on, it’s this way.”
Percy on land is pretty impressive. Percy in water? There aren’t the words to describe it. Not in English, anyway, and Nico will be damned before Percy has him speaking Greek. He can’t catch him, gave up trying a long time ago, so he’s swimming along in Percy’s wake, which gives him ample opportunity to appreciate the way that the water parts under his hands; quietly, barely a splash. It’s a smooth, calm elegance he only has with a sword in his hand, or under water. In either case, Nico has catalogued the ways that the water or sweat moves over his shoulder blades, around the muscles of his rotator cuffs, counting his ribs on the way to their nexus at the base of his spine. Today, the water has chosen one of Nico’s favourites, though if pushed he knows that they’re all his favourites; an s curve that moves out across the shoulders, curls into the lower back, and sweeps out over his pelvis. It’s as though Percy has invisible wings that the water is following, ruffling his feathers. Nico shivers, and pushes on to try to catch up with Percy, who is waiting in the open water.
---
The thing Percy has to show him isn’t so much a thing as a place. If one were being generous, one might call it an island. Nico would call it a rock. It was, all things considered, a rather nice rock; dark stone that glittered wetly with the sea spray, and an easy climb out of the water. That’s when Nico gets it: why this place, why him, why now.
The rock is shaped like cupped hands, walls casting shadows and echoes across the surface of a shallow pool that had collected in its palms. The pool reflects the black of the rock, and the blue of the sky, in a pattern that changes as the breeze blows across the face of the water. It is public and private, light and shadowed, fluid and solid; Percy and Nico.
“Thank you.”
It shouldn’t have been a surprise, turning around to find Percy gloriously and shamelessly naked, but Nico swallows instinctively, freezing just a little as Percy slides his fingers lightly under the waistband of his shorts.
“I’ve banished the nymphs and naiads, on pain of pain.” Percy’s eyes are suddenly piercing, blue hot, the eyes that win battles, kill monsters, scare innocent civilians; Nico is hypnotised. “This is our place, Nico; just ours.”
It’s the ‘Nico’ that does it, he never could resist the way Percy said his name, part prayer, part curse, and Nico finds himself, naked, pressed against Percy from lips to toes. It’s a shocking heat, every time, so much skin bleeding sex and sweat and life into him. Nico has almost given up wondering whether Apollo has something to do with this, and resolved to just enjoy it, when Percy removes the possibility of thought altogether by sliding his tongue softly along Nico’s lower lip, brushing the tips of their tongues together.
---
The water of the pool is warm from the sun, lacing over Nico’s chest, pulling at the Ankh around his neck; a gift from Percy for his eighteenth birthday, because nothing pisses off their dads like a bit of inter-mythological banter. Nico never takes it off, and the water seems to know that, pulling the cord tight against his neck so that his pulse is imprinted with the symbol.
There are serious benefits to having a boyfriend who doesn’t need to breathe under water, as Nico’s cock is busily finding out. The warm water is moving around his balls and thighs, and Percy is doing unspeakably wicked things with his tongue. Nico drops his head back into the water, allowing the silence of it to fill his ears, and the empty blue sky to fill his eyes.
“I know you can hear me, Nico.” He can even hear Percy smiling through the words, feel the tug of lips against hyper sensitised skin, when Percy starts to flood his mind with images of them together. There are memories, sure, and plenty of them; war and peace and joy and sorrow, love and fucking in a hundred shades of blue. There are images that are soft around the edges, which feel like dreams, and Nico shudders at the thought that Percy really dreams about this.
It’s only when he shudders that he realises that Percy has been using the images as a cloak, fogging his mind with pleasure while he opens him up with his remarkable fingers. Eyes snapping open, his sky is filled with a dripping Percy, dark as a promise and a hundred times as dirty. Nico opens pretty easily these days, they both do; bodies taut with waiting, anticipating pleasure, pain, overwhelming sensation. Percy quirks an eyebrow, and Nico nods tensely, licking the drops of water that drip onto his face from Percy’s hair.
For all his haste, for all their speed, Percy pushes into Nico slowly, holding his eyes all the time. The water follows his fingers up Nico’s thighs, and supports them, high, around Percy’s waist. Nico lifts a hand to the side of Percy’s face, running his fingers along his jaw, and Percy turns to press a kiss to his palm.
That is the magic of this place. They have all the time in the world, and time blurs for them as they fuck lazily. Percy is drawing energy from the water, feeling every inch of Nico, as though he had a hundred hands. The sensation is overwhelming, and his eyes are glassy and dark with feeling it. Nico’s vision is full of Percy, looking gorgeously debauched, glowing in the sun. The sounds of them breathing, gasping, moaning, calling each others names, gods, echo around them until they’re surrounded by a wall of sound, the sound of their pleasure rolling over them inexorably. When Nico comes, with a cry, it’s a shock to them both, and the sudden tightness drags an orgasm from Percy that leaves him momentarily blind. They resurface slowly, lying on their backs, staring vacantly at the sky. Percy traces the line of Nico’s profile, resting his finger on his lips until Nico smiles and kisses it, softly.
Some things, however, you just never get used to. Seeing water rise up to meet Percy’s feet when he steps into it; holding him by the ankles, almost asking him not to, when he climbs out again. The near constant nudity, or almost nudity, always his arms, his legs, his chest, his back, his belly; so much skin, bared to the sun, or the moon. At least he doesn’t seem partial between the twins; he’s an exhibitionist with either.
This time, it’s daylight. Nico is propped up, calmly, under the shade of a convenient tree. His trousers tickle the top of his bare feet as he shifts to lean on his other leg, one hand in his pocket, one tucked through his belt loop, shirt sleeves rolled up, still below his elbows, his pale skin green and dappled in the shadows. He’s not smiling. No, really. That thing where his lips are curved upwards? It’s something else.
Percy is, predictably, practically naked. He’s scrambling over the rocks, heading for the water, wearing only a pair of superman boxers that Nico happens to know he was given by Annabeth. The sun loves him, the water loves him, it’s sickeningly easy to love him when he’s smiling that open, daft smile, standing on a rock that shouldn’t possibly support him, and waving to Nico, as if he hadn’t been watching him for the past ten minutes.
“Well you can’t see it from there.” The look on Percy’s face is just this side of smug, but definitely bordering on self satisfied. Nico raises an eyebrow, sceptically.
“If this is an attempt to take my clothes off, then there are easier ways;” gently mocking.
“Oh I know,” Percy’s eyes as wide as his smile, “I told you, I want to show you something.”
Nico fingers his scarf delicately, before draping it over a low hanging branch. “Is this something going to involve me getting wet?” Percy nods beatifically. Sighing, Nico unbuttons his shirt and jeans, folding them over the branch, leaving him in his black shorts. No matter how long they’ve been doing this, or how many times, Nico can’t quite believe that Percy Jackson, the hero, the one with the muscles and the tan, isn’t going to be disappointed with his paleness, his stubborn hair, his body that wears its hip bones and vertebra like medals.
As if he’s reading him, Percy shakes his head fondly. “Come on, it’s this way.”
Percy on land is pretty impressive. Percy in water? There aren’t the words to describe it. Not in English, anyway, and Nico will be damned before Percy has him speaking Greek. He can’t catch him, gave up trying a long time ago, so he’s swimming along in Percy’s wake, which gives him ample opportunity to appreciate the way that the water parts under his hands; quietly, barely a splash. It’s a smooth, calm elegance he only has with a sword in his hand, or under water. In either case, Nico has catalogued the ways that the water or sweat moves over his shoulder blades, around the muscles of his rotator cuffs, counting his ribs on the way to their nexus at the base of his spine. Today, the water has chosen one of Nico’s favourites, though if pushed he knows that they’re all his favourites; an s curve that moves out across the shoulders, curls into the lower back, and sweeps out over his pelvis. It’s as though Percy has invisible wings that the water is following, ruffling his feathers. Nico shivers, and pushes on to try to catch up with Percy, who is waiting in the open water.
---
The thing Percy has to show him isn’t so much a thing as a place. If one were being generous, one might call it an island. Nico would call it a rock. It was, all things considered, a rather nice rock; dark stone that glittered wetly with the sea spray, and an easy climb out of the water. That’s when Nico gets it: why this place, why him, why now.
The rock is shaped like cupped hands, walls casting shadows and echoes across the surface of a shallow pool that had collected in its palms. The pool reflects the black of the rock, and the blue of the sky, in a pattern that changes as the breeze blows across the face of the water. It is public and private, light and shadowed, fluid and solid; Percy and Nico.
“Thank you.”
It shouldn’t have been a surprise, turning around to find Percy gloriously and shamelessly naked, but Nico swallows instinctively, freezing just a little as Percy slides his fingers lightly under the waistband of his shorts.
“I’ve banished the nymphs and naiads, on pain of pain.” Percy’s eyes are suddenly piercing, blue hot, the eyes that win battles, kill monsters, scare innocent civilians; Nico is hypnotised. “This is our place, Nico; just ours.”
It’s the ‘Nico’ that does it, he never could resist the way Percy said his name, part prayer, part curse, and Nico finds himself, naked, pressed against Percy from lips to toes. It’s a shocking heat, every time, so much skin bleeding sex and sweat and life into him. Nico has almost given up wondering whether Apollo has something to do with this, and resolved to just enjoy it, when Percy removes the possibility of thought altogether by sliding his tongue softly along Nico’s lower lip, brushing the tips of their tongues together.
---
The water of the pool is warm from the sun, lacing over Nico’s chest, pulling at the Ankh around his neck; a gift from Percy for his eighteenth birthday, because nothing pisses off their dads like a bit of inter-mythological banter. Nico never takes it off, and the water seems to know that, pulling the cord tight against his neck so that his pulse is imprinted with the symbol.
There are serious benefits to having a boyfriend who doesn’t need to breathe under water, as Nico’s cock is busily finding out. The warm water is moving around his balls and thighs, and Percy is doing unspeakably wicked things with his tongue. Nico drops his head back into the water, allowing the silence of it to fill his ears, and the empty blue sky to fill his eyes.
“I know you can hear me, Nico.” He can even hear Percy smiling through the words, feel the tug of lips against hyper sensitised skin, when Percy starts to flood his mind with images of them together. There are memories, sure, and plenty of them; war and peace and joy and sorrow, love and fucking in a hundred shades of blue. There are images that are soft around the edges, which feel like dreams, and Nico shudders at the thought that Percy really dreams about this.
It’s only when he shudders that he realises that Percy has been using the images as a cloak, fogging his mind with pleasure while he opens him up with his remarkable fingers. Eyes snapping open, his sky is filled with a dripping Percy, dark as a promise and a hundred times as dirty. Nico opens pretty easily these days, they both do; bodies taut with waiting, anticipating pleasure, pain, overwhelming sensation. Percy quirks an eyebrow, and Nico nods tensely, licking the drops of water that drip onto his face from Percy’s hair.
For all his haste, for all their speed, Percy pushes into Nico slowly, holding his eyes all the time. The water follows his fingers up Nico’s thighs, and supports them, high, around Percy’s waist. Nico lifts a hand to the side of Percy’s face, running his fingers along his jaw, and Percy turns to press a kiss to his palm.
That is the magic of this place. They have all the time in the world, and time blurs for them as they fuck lazily. Percy is drawing energy from the water, feeling every inch of Nico, as though he had a hundred hands. The sensation is overwhelming, and his eyes are glassy and dark with feeling it. Nico’s vision is full of Percy, looking gorgeously debauched, glowing in the sun. The sounds of them breathing, gasping, moaning, calling each others names, gods, echo around them until they’re surrounded by a wall of sound, the sound of their pleasure rolling over them inexorably. When Nico comes, with a cry, it’s a shock to them both, and the sudden tightness drags an orgasm from Percy that leaves him momentarily blind. They resurface slowly, lying on their backs, staring vacantly at the sky. Percy traces the line of Nico’s profile, resting his finger on his lips until Nico smiles and kisses it, softly.