The cabin at Camp Half-Blood stood quiet beneath a canopy of ancient pines, moonlight threading through the leaves like silver veins. Will Solace moved first, his golden hair catching the faint glow from the single lantern on the nightstand. He crossed the small space in two strides and caught Nico di Angelo by the hips, pulling the son of Hades flush against him. Nico’s dark eyes widened for only a heartbeat before he tilted his head back, offering his throat. Will’s mouth found the pulse there, lips parting to taste salt and shadow.
Nico’s fingers slid beneath Will’s shirt, tracing the ridges of muscle earned from years of archery and healing. The fabric whispered upward and away, baring sun-warmed skin. Will returned the favor, peeling Nico’s black shirt free until both stood bare-chested, breathing the same heated air. Their mouths met again, slower this time, tongues sliding in a deliberate exploration that spoke of long-repressed hunger finally given permission.
They sank onto the narrow bed together. Will’s hands mapped every inch of Nico’s torso with the reverence of a healer learning a new anatomy, thumbs circling nipples until they tightened, then drifting lower to the sharp cut of hipbones. Nico arched, a low sound escaping him, and Will answered by pressing open-mouthed kisses down the center of his chest, tasting the faint trace of sweat and something darker, like night-blooming flowers.
When Will’s hand cupped the hard length straining against Nico’s jeans, Nico’s breath hitched. Will worked the zipper down with deliberate patience, freeing him. The first slow stroke drew a shudder from Nico’s frame. Will watched Nico’s face the entire time, eyes half-lidded with want, cataloguing every flicker of pleasure. He leaned in, breath ghosting over sensitive skin, then took Nico into his mouth with languid care, tongue swirling, cheeks hollowing. Nico’s hands found Will’s hair, gripping without force, simply anchoring himself as sensation built in thick, rolling waves.
Will pulled back only when Nico’s thighs began to tremble. He shed the rest of his own clothing, revealing the lean, powerful lines of his body, then reached for the small vial of oil kept among the medical supplies. Slick fingers returned to Nico, circling, pressing, opening him with the same steady patience that defined every healing touch Will had ever given. Nico breathed through it, dark lashes fluttering, until the stretch became something deeper, something that made his hips roll in silent invitation.
When Will finally pushed inside, it was with one long, controlled thrust that seated him fully. They stayed locked that way for a moment, foreheads pressed together, sharing breath. Then movement began, slow at first, each roll of Will’s hips drawing a gasp from Nico. The pace built gradually, the sound of skin meeting skin filling the cabin alongside low, broken moans. Will’s hand wrapped around Nico again, stroking in time with his thrusts, never rushing, letting the pleasure crest and recede like tides.
Nico came first, back bowing, release spilling hot over Will’s fist. The sight and feel of it dragged Will over the edge seconds later, buried deep, pulse after pulse. They remained tangled afterward, Will’s weight a comforting press, Nico’s fingers tracing idle patterns on sweat-damp skin.
Later, when breath had steadied, Will kissed the corner of Nico’s mouth and whispered, “Stay.” Nico answered by drawing the blanket over them both, the lantern flickering low as shadows and sunlight finally rested together in the dark.
