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Scott sits awake in his house. He’s not sure how late it is, only that he should be sleeping – get some rest while he can – but his mind keeps him wide awake.
Back when he was still alive, he had found ways to deal with it; a bit of wine and some company usually did the trick to calm his restlessness, but there weren’t much of either of those things in the realm of the gods. Not yet at least. Maybe he should be more direct next time he invites Nikos over, or maybe Nikos’ flirting was all empty fun.
This deep in thought, the knock on the door startles him.
“Come in,” Scott says, waving his hand in the general direction of the door – a small gust of wind pushing it open enough for whoever’s outside to let themselves in – the abilities that Aeolus has given him is starting to feel like second nature.
“Oh-oh, you’ve got a new trick, Pretty One?” Nikos’ voice thunders gleefully from outside, as he opens the door fully.
Scott perks up, rising to greet Nikos but the man just waves at him to stay seated. “I brought wine,” he says, revealing an amphora from behind his back. Scott can barely contain his excitement as Nikos sets it down on the table, fetching two kylikes from the work bench in the corner of the small room that is Scott’s house. The champion of Zeus pours wine for both of them, laughing when Scott practically rips the kylix from his hand, sipping the contents eagerly. Scott leans back in his chair with a dramatic sigh.
“Is it to your liking, Pretty One?” Nikos hums, taking a sip from his own kylix.
“It’s everything I could’ve asked for,” Scott says, downing the rest of the wine and holding the kylix out for more. Nikos laughs as he refills it.
They sit in silence for a little while, enjoying their wine and the quiet of the night. Scott eyes Nikos curiously, wondering what’s hiding behind the dark cloud of his gaze. He laps up the last drops of wine, putting the kylix down on the table – leaning forward and places a hand on the other champions forearm. “You look troubled, is the arena fight bothering you too? I mean it was very honourable of Drift and all that, but it’s still not nice to watch–”
Nikos sets his own kylix down on the table with a soft thud. “I am not bothered,” he says briskly, almost bored. “Let’s not talk about the arena.”
Scott nods in acknowledgement; talking about the arena would just sour his wine-good mood anyways. “We can contemplate our life choices while watching the stars on the roof?” he intends to say it as a joke, but the wine muffles his dry, sarcastic tone. Nikos chuckles softly.
Scott gets to his feet. “I wasn’t sure if you would come,” he says, moving his hand up to Nikos’ bicep, tapping his finger against the muscle a couple of times as he moves behind the other man, tracing his fingers along the line of his tattoos, over his shoulder till he wraps his fingers around locks of hair.
“Skip out on a fun night?” Nikos says, voice rumbling low in his chest. Scott lets his fingers brush through his hair as he walks to the stairs leading up to the roof. Almost as soon as he retreats, Nikos shoves back his chair to follow. “Why would I do that?”
Scott waits for him on the stairs, about to comment on them seeing eye to eye (get it? Cause he’s standing on the second step? Ah, he should’ve done more comedy while he was alive), when Nikos closes the gap between them entirely.
Nikos’ lips press hard, hungry, against Scott’s, so intently that if Scott hadn’t known any better, he’d describe it as needy – but he supposes that in this game that they’re playing, being a little desperate is to be expected. He can use this to his advantage, there are few things that burn as strongly as desire. It could be a good weapon if he wields it right.
He digs his hand into Nikos’ hair, nails scraping along the man’s scalp. Nikos responds by pressing him against the wall with his own body. Scott nips at his lips, biting harder when he doesn’t get an immediate reaction. Nikos grunts, pulling back slightly – hot warm breaths mixing in the small space between them, and there is a tiny speck of red on his lips, welling up into a drop of blood.
Scott licks his own lips, smirking at the faint taste of sweet copper. “Is that all you’ve got Nikos?”
Nikos matches his grin, the bead of blood stretching and spilling over his lips – his tongue peeking out for just a moment to clean it up. “I’m just getting started Pretty One,” he says, amusement lingering in his rough voice. Scott leans forward to continue their kiss, but Nikos dodges, his lips catching Scott’s jawline instead, working his way down his neck swiftly.
This catches Scott off guard, his breath hitching. He lifts his chin, tilting his head as best he can while being pressed against a wall to give Nikos better access. This is more fun than he had imagined it would be.
Nikos plants kisses all over the side of his throat, nipping against his skin playfully, an occasional wet lick of his tongue sending shivers down Scott’s spine. Meanwhile Scott pulls his nails across Nikos’ scalp, pressing down at the nape of his neck in a way that makes Nikos melt against him, pulling his hair lazily – relishing in the annoyed grumble coming from deep in Nikos’ throat.
The second Nikos lets up some of the pressure against Scott’s body, he swiftly skitters out of his hold and up the remaining steps. “Catch me if you can~” he calls over his shoulder, winking at the champion below.
“Oh, you really are fun,” Nikos bellows, accepting the challenge without hesitation, a slight drunken flush blooming across his cheeks. Scott steps out of view but doesn’t go further away from the stairs – he’s not really into the chase like that. Regardless, the move accomplishes exactly what he wants: Nikos coming up the stairs in a hurry, ‘catching’ him the instant he’s within reach.
Scott laughs as Nikos picks him up effortlessly, whooping over capturing him so easily. Scott wraps his arms around Nikos’ neck. “Well, I wasn’t exactly trying to get away, oh my gods–” Scott yelps when the other man tips him back, too far back, making both of them fall.
He lands on his bed, Nikos hovering above him, both hands planted on either side of Scott’s head. He leans down, warm lips kissing Scott’s shoulder lightly. “Nikos!” Scot hisses, sucking in a breath to calm his racing heart. “You could’ve crushed me!”
“Mhm,” Nikos hums, planting more kisses along Scott’s collarbone. “I had full control.”
Scott flicks his wrist, and a gust of wind catches Nikos off guard, pushing him off balance long enough for Scott to roll them around – though he suspects that Zeus’ champion could’ve resisted if he had wanted to. “Is your turn, Pretty One,” Nikos says with a low chuckle that makes his shoulders vibrate under Scott’s hands.
Scott leans forward, lifting a hand to the other champions cheek – his bread is coarse to the touch, but well kempt – the texture is comforting, strangely familiar given the little time they’ve known each other, but in a game like this, you cling onto any comfort you can. Their lips brush against each other, moving slow and carefully, the feverish need from earlier replaced with a quieter need for closeness.
Scott isn’t sure how long they stayed like that, having found a soft rhythm to satisfy both of their needs for affection. Eventually they stopped, but neither of them made a move to untangle their limbs, Scott cuddling against Nikos’ hot body to escape the cool night air. He rests his head on Nikos’ slow, rising and falling chest, counting every beat of his heart while tracing a finger over a scar on his stomach. Unfortunately for him, it seems like sleep won’t claim him yet. Maybe he could talk to Apo about that.
“I have a name, you know?” he mumbles, not really expecting an answer.
“Mhm,” Nikos grumbles, half asleep.
“Nikos,” Scott nearly barks the name, the lack of sleep combined with the wine in his system making him more annoyed than usual as he props himself up on an elbow to face the man. “I want to hear you say it.”
Nikos opens one narrow eye to consider Scott, closing it with a low grunt. “No.”
Scott glares at him. “Why not? Are you seriously just going to keep up with the nicknames for everyone?” he snarks, tapping a finger on the spiral tattoo on Nikos’ chest. “At least come up with something original for all of us, I hear you’ve been causing some confusion.”
Nikos huffs, realising that Scott won’t let it go so easily. “Names hold too much power, Pretty One~” he says, watching him through half-lidded eyes. “You know where we are, you know what the gods want of us. It’s easier this way.”
“So what? You’re going to sleep in my bed, but you won’t even say my name?” Scott twirls a lock of Nikos’ hair around his finger. “That’s pretty rude.”
Nikos groans, rolling over and pinning Scott against the bed. “I’ll leave if you want.”
Scott stares up at him. His heart beats heavy in his chest, his fingers twitch with anxiety – slowly sneaking its way into his body, tensing his muscles. The thought of being alone scares him more than the fact that he’ll inevitably have to fight in the arena one day.
As much as he wants to be stubborn about it, demand that Nikos whisper his name the way he does for him, that desire is not stronger than the want, the need, he has for company. He rolls his eyes, accepting defeat. “No, you can stay.”
Nikos hums so low, the noise could’ve been mistaken for a cats content purr. He lays down on his side next to Scott, keeping one bulky arm slung across Scott’s chest. The rise and fall of his breath slows instantly, a small bitterness creeping into Scott’s mind over how easily sleep comes to other people.
He stares at the canopy above, matching his breathing to Nikos in an attempt to calm his body enough to sleep. It takes a while, long enough for the sky to grow lighter again, but eventually his eyelids are weighed down by sleep.
Scott sighs in relief, any rest is better than none.