Chapter Text
“That thing…with your lips,” Dorian murmured against Nicos’s chest, voice hoarse with exhaustion.
“Hm?” Nicos kissed the top of the mage’s head and smoothed his hand over his hair.
“When you’re nervous.”
“Ah,” Nicos said, understanding. “Biting them.”
Dorian nodded, so slowly Nicos wasn’t even sure the man was actually awake anymore.
“You were doing it tonight.”
Nicos looked away, his gaze drifting towards his desk, teeth worrying his bottom lip again. “Don’t worry about it,” he whispered.
Dorian shifted against him, arms tightening around him before he drifted off. “I worry about you, amatus,” he muttered almost inaudibly, as if he hadn’t meant to say it out loud.
Nicos held his breath. It had been a while since he’d studied languages, but he remembered enough to have the word catch him off guard. Amatus.
Shit.