Archive of Our Own

The infirmary is quiet at this hour. The kind of quiet that settles into the walls — the low hum of the overhead lights, the soft scrape of drawers sliding shut, the faint sting of antiseptic that never truly leaves, no matter how often Will cracks the windows. She’s perched on a stool counting bandages into neat stacks, letting the stillness fold around her like a sterile blanket she’s grown oddly fond of.

The door creaks. Light, hesitant footsteps follow.

“Nico?” Will calls without turning, but her mouth is already curving into a smile she can’t stop.

Nico stands in the doorway like she’s unsure whether she’s allowed to occupy the same air as the room. Her hands are jammed deep in her hoodie pockets, hair wind-tangled from the night, cheeks pink from cold or nerves — maybe both. Her gaze skitters everywhere except toward Will, like even looking at her might make something inside her detonate.

Will straightens, setting the bandages aside. Nico showing up unannounced isn’t unusual. Nico showing up looking like this — small, flustered, wound tight as a pulled thread — is.

“Hey,” Will says softly, wiping her palms on a cloth before stepping away from the counter. “What’s wrong?”

Nico hovers a few feet inside the room — close enough that Will can feel her presence, but not close enough to commit to it. Her shoulders are hitched high, tense, like she’s bracing herself for impact. “Uh. Can we—talk?”

Will doesn’t even hesitate. Her body moves before her mind catches up; she crosses the room in easy strides, nudging the stool aside with her heel like it’s an irrelevant obstacle. “Yeah, of course. Always.”

Up close, the picture sharpens: Nico’s fingers twisting her drawstrings until they’re nearly unravelled, the rigid set of her shoulders, the way her throat works like she’s swallowing words she hasn’t convinced herself she’s allowed to say. Her gaze keeps dropping — collarbone, floor, anywhere but Will’s eyes.

Will’s stomach gives a quiet, instinctive flip. She knows this look. She’s seen it in patients trying to hide pain, in friends trying to hide fear, and most of all — in Nico, whenever she’s forcing herself to step into vulnerable territory.

“You’re kinda scaring me,” Will teases, though her voice stays gentle, coaxing. She dips her head, trying to catch Nico’s eyes, trying to tilt the moment into something safe enough for her to breathe in.

Nico huffs out a sound that falls apart at the edges. “It’s not bad,” she blurts. “I just… don’t really know how to start.”

Will steps closer, not touching — not yet — just brushing her knuckles lightly against Nico’s arm on the way past. A soft, grounding gesture. “Then don’t worry about starting right,” she murmurs. “Just talk.”

Nico swallows, her throat moving in one tight breath, and her eyes flick up to Will’s for a heartbeat before skittering away again like she touched something too bright. “I was talking to Piper and Annabeth earlier,” she says, quiet and halting. “Iris message. Just—normal stuff at first. Camp. Chores. You.”

Will arches a brow, the start of a grin tugging at her mouth before she can hide it. “Me?”

“Yeah,” Nico mutters, pink flushing all the way to her ears. “And then the conversation… kind of… shifted.”

“Shifted?” Will echoes, even though the shape of it is already settling in her chest.

Nico makes a small face, folding in on herself a little. “They started talking about their… sex lives,” she says, barely more than breath, and Will has to lean in, drawn by instinct and something else she refuses to name. “And then they asked about… us.”

The last word wavers, fragile enough that Will feels it land in her ribs.

Her smile softens, the warmth of it nudging at the tension between them. “Oh.”

“Yeah.” Nico’s shoulders hunch like she’s bracing for impact. “And I just—I didn’t know what to say.”

Will doesn’t reach for her. She keeps her hands loose at her sides, letting the quiet fill the room in that gentle way it does around them — not suffocating, not demanding, just… patient.

Nico pulls in a shaky breath, her fingers worrying the hem of her hoodie into frayed threads. “They were talking about—” another swallow, another flicker of her throat, “—about everything they’ve done. Piper and whoever, she wouldn’t say, and Annabeth and Percy, obviously. Just… casually. Like it’s nothing.” Her shoulders climb higher. “And then they asked about us, and I froze.”

Her voice drops even lower, shy around the truth. “Because we haven’t really done anything like that. Not really.”

Will feels it land — sharp, small, too honest. Because she knows exactly what Nico means. She thinks of the nights they’ve half-fallen into each other, mouths gone messy, shirts pushed up in the dark, Nico warm and shaking under her hands. She remembers the way the air always shifts right before it gets serious, how Nico goes a little still, breath catching like she’s not sure she’s allowed to want more. And every time, Will stops without even thinking about it — not because she doesn’t want it, gods knows she does, but because Nico’s comfort has always mattered more than whatever heat is tearing through her.

Nico’s face flushes deeper — a warm rush that rises from her collar and settles across her cheeks, impossible to miss even in the dim light. Will watches the colour spread, feels something answering in her own chest, low and warm, like her body recognising Nico’s embarrassment before her mind can catch up. She knows this look too well: Nico folding in on herself, convinced she’s somehow gotten it wrong when Will hasn’t asked her for anything except honesty.

The breath Will lets out is small and quiet, something she feels more than hears — not disappointment, not frustration, just a soft pull in her ribs. Protective, yes. And something else layered under it, something warmer. Not about sex, not even about the heat between them — just the fact that Nico is giving her this, trusting her enough to say the parts that scare her.

“I didn’t know what to tell them,” she whispers, eyes darting everywhere but at Will. “It’s not like I don’t want to—but I’ve been too… me about it. Too scared. And you’ve been so patient and I feel bad, like I’m making you wait for something you shouldn’t have to.”

She tilts her head, trying to draw Nico’s gaze up. “Hey,” she murmurs, barely above the hum of the lights. “Look at me.”

There’s a beat — one, two — where Nico’s lashes tremble and she seems to fight with herself. Then her eyes lift, dark and unsure and searching for something she’s scared she won’t find. Will meets them with the softest smile she can manage, something small and warm that she hopes Nico feels rather than sees.

“You’re not making me wait for anything I don’t want to,” she says, and she feels the truth settle low and warm in her chest as she speaks. “I like what we have. I like every single thing we do. And when you’re ready for more? We’ll figure it out together. But you don’t owe me anything.”

Will leans in until their foreheads touch. Nico exhales at the contact, a soft, shaky breath that warms Will’s skin. Will closes her eyes for a moment, letting the closeness settle between them, and when she speaks again her voice has gone low and even — the tone she uses when someone needs gentleness more than reassurance.

“I’m serious. I love you. I’d wait forever for you. You don’t have to feel guilty for needing time.”

Nico’s laugh breaks apart on the way out — small, cracked, unbearably human — and Will feels it more than she hears it, a tremor that moves through the space between their mouths. Nico’s hands, no longer locked tight around her sleeves, lift hesitantly before finding Will’s hoodie. She curls her fingers in the fabric and holds on, like she’s anchoring herself to something solid.

“Gods, you’re so… chivalrous, it's unfair,” she whispers.

The words land warm and helpless in Will’s ribcage. She laughs softly, the sound brushing against Nico’s cheek. “Yeah. I know.”

Nico’s hands stay tangled in Will’s hoodie, like if she lets go she might lose her nerve entirely. Her eyes flick down to the floor again, lashes wet, mouth pressed into a thin line like she’s chewing on the words before she can let them out.

“I do want it,” she says finally, barely above a whisper. “More. With you.” Her voice wavers, but the truth of it is steady underneath, small and stubborn. “It’s not that I don’t want to.”

Will breathes out slowly, their foreheads still pressed together, letting the weight of those words settle between them.

“I just…” Nico hesitates, cheeks flushed, fingers tightening their grip. “I don’t know how to do any of it. I mean, I get what sex is supposed to look like when it’s a guy and a girl. But I don’t—” She shakes her head, frustrated, embarrassed. “I don’t know what to do with another girl. And the idea of messing everything up makes me want to throw myself in the lake.”

A breathless little laugh escapes Nico, helpless and shaky. Will huffs one out too, except hers catches halfway in her throat because now that Nico’s said she wants to, she can’t stop thinking about it. Thinking about her.

“Okay,” Will says clapping her hands, then immediately scrunches up her nose. “Wow. That sounded like I’m about to give you a seminar or something.”

Nico’s mouth twitches, shy and pink. “Gods, please don’t give me a seminar.”

Will laughs, the sound embarrassingly flustered, heat blooming all the way to the tops of her ears. She reaches for Nico’s hand and gives a gentle tug toward one of the empty cots. Nico follows, small and uncertain, and Will sits beside her. Their knees brush — barely anything, just a whisper of contact — but even that anchors Will’s spinning thoughts. Their fingers tangle together without effort, warm and trembling.

Her brain is trying to be calm and knowledgeable and medical about all this, but every time she looks at Nico’s flushed face, it’s like her rational thoughts short-circuit and scatter. She keeps seeing her in flashes: Nico beneath her hands, breathless, open, trusting. The idea alone nearly knocks the air out of her.

“So,” she starts again, voice pitching too high before she clears her throat. “Sex. With… girls. Um.”

Nico raises an eyebrow. “Great start.”

Will groans, dragging her hands over her face in pure, mortified agony. “This is so unfair, you’re distracting me just by existing.”

“Will,” Nico says, trying hard — and failing — not to smile.

“I’m serious!” Will gestures at her wildly. “I’m trying to explain, but my brain keeps—” She waves her hands vaguely in the air, as if thinking about going down on you can be translated into mime. “—doing that.”

Nico lets out a small, embarrassed laugh, shoulders curling inward as if she might fold herself out of sight — but she doesn’t let go of Will’s hands. If anything, her grip tightens, warm and unsteady, the kind of touch that sends a shiver up Will’s spine before she can hide it.

“Okay. Focus.” Will tries for a slow breath, but it barely grazes the surface of the panic-bright heat in her chest. Her pulse trips over itself, wild and insistent, and she can feel the flush climbing her throat like it’s been waiting for an excuse. She shifts on the edge of the cot, her knee brushing Nico’s — a tiny, accidental touch, but it lands like a spark. It grounds her, yes, but it also tilts something deeper inside her, something she’s been trying not to name.

“There isn’t… one way to do it,” she says, carefully, as if the words themselves might slip from her grasp. “There’s no step-by-step guide. It’s just… paying attention. Touching. Figuring out what feels good for both of us.”

Her voice thins near the end. She feels it — the give of it, the way heat threads through the softness. Her gaze drops before she can stop herself. It’s instinct now, this quiet, hungry study of Nico when they’re close: the mouth gone pink from chewing at it, the delicate line of her throat, the sharp collarbones she always kisses high on, never lower. Each detail lands like a hand pressed beneath her ribs.

She thinks of that one night — fumbling shadows, Nico half-laughing in her ear — when Will’s lips had drifted lower, over warm skin she barely saw, tracing soft curves her hands still remember. Every other time, she’s kept herself in check: hands over fabric, reverent, careful, skirting the border of something she wants so badly it aches.

“Some people use their fingers, some their tongue, some just…” She falters, the heat catching in her throat. “…grind together.” The words scrape out soft and wrecked. A laugh breaks from her, flustered and helpless, and she covers her mouth with one hand like that’ll hide the way desire has her breathing unevenly. “Gods, I swear I had a more elegant way of saying that in my head.”

Nico lets out a slow breath, pink and flustered but smiling—small, real, a little nervous. “You’re really bad at explaining,” she whispers.

Will leans in, letting their foreheads brush. The contact is barely anything, but it sends a warm, shaky pulse through her. “Yeah,” she breathes, her grin unsteady in a way she hopes looks charming and not like imminent cardiac arrest. “But I’m really good at demonstrations.”

Nico’s laugh comes out thin with nerves, but it’s real, and the sound loosens something tight in Will’s chest. She can feel it—the delicate shift of air between them, the slow ratcheting pressure of being this close, this honest, this wanted.

“I’m just messing with you, I… get it,” Nico says. Her voice is low, shy, but her eyes keep darting between Will’s mouth and their joined hands—quick, hungry flickers that she probably doesn’t even realise she’s making.

Will’s heartbeat stutters at that look, heat rising swift and undeniable. She nods quickly, afraid that if she stays silent for even a second, she’ll do something reckless, like close the last inch between them.

“And it doesn’t have to be all at once,” she says, words tumbling out in a warm rush. “We can start small. Or combine things. It’s supposed to be… fun. Not like—” She gestures weakly, her brain short-circuiting. “—some big performance.”

She swallows, throat tight, and the last part slips out softer than she intends, almost a confession. “And it’s really fucking hot.”

The way Nico flushes is almost instantaneous—colour blooming across her cheeks, crawling down her neck like heat spilling under her skin. Will watches it happen, helpless, drawn in by the way Nico’s breath stutters, how she doesn’t quite manage to look away this time.

Will shifts closer, enough that her thumb can trace gently over Nico’s knuckles. When she speaks again, her voice drops—steady now, warmer, pulled from somewhere deeper.

“There’s no wrong way,” Will murmurs. “If something feels good, we keep going. If it doesn’t, we stop. It’s simple. You just… let me know what you like. I’ll figure out the rest.”

“I really want to,” Nico says, and her voice cracks just a little, small and raw in the quiet between them. Her fingers twist in Will’s hoodie like she’s keeping herself upright by sheer willpower. Then, quieter—dangerous, fragile, honest: “With you.”

Will’s heart lurches, a sharp, bright shock that hits so fast she almost stops breathing. Heat sweeps through her in a rush, dizzying, molten, tightening low in her stomach. She wants it—god, she wants it—so fiercely it feels like something clawing at her ribs. It thrums in her chest, restless and insistent, a pull she has to fight because if she gives in even an inch, she won’t stop.

“Hey,” Will breathes, the word rough around the edges, like it scraped its way out of her chest. She lifts a hand before she can overthink it, fingers catching gently under Nico’s chin, guiding her gaze up. Nico’s eyes flicker nervously, the briefest stutter of uncertainty, then they lock onto hers—wide, dark, bright in the lamplight. The sight makes Will’s pulse jump, a quick sharp knock against her ribs that she hopes Nico can’t hear. “You don’t have to say that because of Piper or Annabeth, okay? If this is too much, or if you’re just feeling weird because they brought it up, we can stop here. I’ll wait. I meant it.”

Nico’s eyes widen, panic flaring soft and immediate. “No—no, it’s not that.” Her voice spills out too fast, tripping over itself, raw with urgency. “I mean—” She swallows hard, the blush crawling down her throat like heat poured over skin. “Gods, Will, I’ve been thinking about it for weeks. I just didn’t know how to say it without sounding—” She groans, mortified, dragging her hands over her face. “—like this.”

Will laughs under her breath, warm and low, the kind of sound that feels private even in an empty room. She takes Nico’s wrists gently, pulling her hands away from her face, thumbs brushing over flushed skin. “Like what?” she teases, leaning in until their foreheads hover so close she can feel Nico’s breath. “Cute? Flustered? So fucking hot I’m two seconds away from losing my mind?”

Nico makes a helpless little noise—somewhere between a scoff, a laugh, and surrender. She rolls her eyes to cover the way her cheeks burn, but the smile that breaks through is soft and shy and completely disarming. “Like I don’t know what I’m doing.”

Will’s thumb traces the curve of her cheek, slow enough to feel the warmth rising there. The grin she offers is edged with something wicked, but the centre of it is all softness. “Good thing I like teaching,” she murmurs, voice dipping lower, lips almost brushing Nico’s skin. “But only if you’re sure. I need you to be really sure, Nico.”

This time, Nico’s gaze holds steady. Her breath stutters, catching on something that pulls tight and bright between them, but she doesn’t look away. She straightens—a small shift, but Will feels it like a change in pressure, the air heating between them. “I’m sure,” she whispers, and the certainty in it strikes straight through Will. “I want this. I love yiu, of course I want you.” She laughs, breathless and a little overwhelmed. “Piper and Annabeth didn’t pressure me. They just… made me stop pretending I wasn’t already thinking about it.”

And that’s it—that steady, naked way she says want you. It runs down Will’s spine like a lit match, catching on every tender, restless thing inside her. Her fingers tighten around Nico’s without permission, her heartbeat pounding too fast, too eager, heat coiling low and fierce.

“Okay,” Will breathes. The word slips out rough, honest in a way she can’t disguise. “Then we’ll figure it out together.”

***

The mattress creaks beneath them, a low, private sound swallowed by the heavy hush of the Hades cabin. The air hangs thick, the way it always does when Will has Nico to herself—just the two of them, nothing but breath and skin and the nervous stutter of heartbeats under clothes.

Will has Nico pinned beneath her, weight pressed down in all the right places, knees bracketing Nico’s hips, their thighs warm where they meet. She can feel Nico’s pulse thudding against her own chest—fast, uneven, impossible to ignore. Nico’s cheeks are flushed, her mouth parted, pupils blown wide. Will can’t help staring. Nico’s hair fans out across the pillow like ink, her lips bitten red, her whole face caught somewhere between want and nerves.

Will leans in slow, close enough to feel Nico’s breath stutter against her own. Her mouth brushes the corner of Nico’s lips—just a ghost of a kiss, light and teasing. It’s barely there, but Nico still shivers under her. She always does, at first: wound too tight, hands hovering like she’s not sure where to put them, fingers trembling until Will finds them.

She threads their fingers together, pressing Nico’s hands into the mattress above her head, her thumb rubbing slow, steady circles against the inside of Nico’s wrist. It’s grounding, a quiet promise tucked into the pressure of her touch.

“It’s okay,” Will murmurs, voice low and a little shaky, her mouth pressed against the sharp edge of Nico’s jaw, breath hot against damp skin. “We’ll go slow. Promise.”

Nico nods, wide-eyed, trust flickering in the set of her mouth, the way her breath catches. Will leans in and kisses her again—deeper this time, open-mouthed, tongue sliding against hers until a broken little sound spills out of Nico’s throat. Will’s hand comes up to cup her jaw, thumb stroking along the curve of her cheekbone. She holds her there, steady, as Nico melts beneath her, legs falling open, hips rolling up like instinct, breaths coming faster, rougher.

Will smiles into the kiss, nerves fizzing under her skin, heat coiling low and tight in her stomach. Her hand drifts down, tracing the warm line of Nico’s throat, catching the quick flutter of her pulse, then sliding lower, catching at the hem of her shirt. Her knuckles drag over bare skin—soft, warm, muscles twitching under her touch. She can feel the rise and fall of Nico’s ribs against her palm, feel how alive and close she is.

“Can I?” Will breathes, her voice rough around the edges. Her eyes stay locked on Nico’s, searching for the smallest sign, waiting.

Nico’s gaze flickers away, cheeks flushed, her breath uneven. Will gently cups her jaw, thumb brushing over warm skin, guiding her face back up. “Hey,” she murmurs, steady despite the rush in her chest. “Look at me. We’re not doing anything you don’t want to do, okay? You have to say it. I need to hear you.”

Nico swallows hard, eyes wide, still a little shy but burning underneath it. “Gods,” she whispers, voice shaky but painfully earnest, “I want it so much, Will. It’s—shit—it’s embarrassing how much I want it. I’m just scared I’ll… do something stupid.”

Will’s mouth softens into a half-smile, warm and real. She leans in until their foreheads almost touch, voice low but steady. “You couldn’t mess this up if you tried. Honestly, if anyone’s going to do something mortifying, it’s probably me. Just—tell me what you want, or if you want to stop, and we’ll go from there. That’s all.”

Nico’s breath catches, her lips pressing together in a crooked almost-smile as her eyes flick up to meet Will’s—wide, dark, shining with something raw. The tension in her shoulders drains away, leaving her soft and exposed beneath Will’s gaze. “Please, Will,” she whispers, voice breathless, the words caught somewhere between a laugh and a plea. “Just—please.”

Then Will’s hands are on her—warm against cool skin, sliding over soft muscle and sharp bone, feeling every tiny shiver that runs through Nico’s body. The heat that’s been building low in Will’s chest spreads greedy and thick, tightening as her thumbs trace the line of Nico’s ribs, hovering just beneath the soft curve of her breasts. Nico shifts beneath her, breath catching, a quiet sound escaping that sharpens the air—electric, tense, the world narrowing to the space between them.

Will pushes Nico’s shirt up, slow, almost teasing, giving Nico every second to pull away. Nico lifts her arms, shy but certain, and Will peels the fabric off, tossing it aside with a flick of her wrist.

She goes still for a heartbeat, drinking in the sight of her: the pale line of Nico’s throat, sharp collarbones, the soft rise of her chest, nipples flushed and hard against skin that looks so fragile Will can hardly trust herself to touch. Nico squirms like she might vanish under the attention, arms twitching up, but Will catches her wrists and gently presses them down against the mattress, holding her there—not rough, just claiming the moment.

“Hey.” Her voice is low, a warning and a plea all at once. “Don’t hide from me, okay? You’re gorgeous.”

Nico bites her lip, eyes darting away. “You can’t just say that when you’re—” she gestures weakly at Will’s bare shoulders, at the tan lines and muscle, cheeks gone impossibly pink—“you know.”

Will laughs, the sound barely more than breath, her mouth close enough that Nico can feel the shape of it against her skin. She presses a kiss to Nico’s jaw, then trails lower, lips dragging down the line of her throat, pausing just long enough to taste the salt there. As she pulls her own shirt up and off, the air changes again—skin on skin, heat spilling out between them, both of them trembling, both of them wanting.

“I say it because it’s true,” she whispers, her voice gone hoarse and rough at the edges. “You’re beautiful, Nico. I mean it.”

Nico’s gaze drags over her—uncertain at first, then growing bold, hungry, tracing every inch of bare skin like she’s memorizing it. Her hands slide along Will’s sides, the dip of her waist, and Will lets herself shudder under the touch, chasing the heat.

Will noses along Nico’s jaw, her breath coming fast and shallow, mouth brushing the sensitive skin of Nico’s neck. “You’re perfect,” she murmurs, voice frayed and wanting. “Let me see you. Let me have you.”

Nico nods, barely breathing, fingers digging into Will’s shoulders like she’s trying to hold on. Will’s mouth trails lower, slow and sure, every kiss mapped out in advance, every scrape of her teeth meant to make Nico shiver. Her skin jumps under Will’s palms, heartbeat racing beneath the surface.

Everything tightens to this—Nico’s breathing, the press of their skin, the way Nico arches up when Will’s lips find her again. Will shifts, sliding her thigh between Nico’s legs, pressing in and rolling her hips just enough to draw a soft, shocked sound out of her. The noise hits Will hard, sharp heat pooling low, pulling her closer to the edge.

She mouths a slow, messy line down Nico’s sternum, kissing and sucking as she goes, leaving damp heat in her wake. The sound of Nico’s breathing tangles with her own—close, uneven, electric.

“Gods, I want you so much,” Will breathes, lifting her head just enough to find Nico’s eyes. Her voice comes out rough and shaky, thick with the kind of want that makes it hard to swallow. “Let me take care of you.”

Nico’s hands fist in Will’s hair, knuckles going white. She’s trembling, wound so tight it makes Will’s pulse stutter—but even through it, her body arches up into every touch, silent and greedy for more.

Will pauses with her mouth hovering just above Nico’s breast, glancing up. Nico’s eyes meet hers, wide and dark, breath stuttering. Will waits—just a second, just enough for Nico to give the smallest nod. It’s all she needs.

She ducks down, pressing a soft kiss to the curve of Nico’s breast, then flicks her tongue over the peaked nipple. Nico’s gasp rips through the quiet, sharp and helpless, her whole body jerking at the touch. A small, broken whimper follows, spilling out before she can hold it back, and Will feels it land low in her stomach, heat sparking through her thighs.

She sucks gently, slow at first, then swirls her tongue, letting the rhythm build. Her teeth graze lightly over the sensitive skin, just enough to make Nico’s head tip back, mouth falling open, breath snagging hard in her throat.

“Gods—Will—” Nico breathes, voice cracking, somewhere between awe and hunger, and it makes Will want to ruin her and hold her all at once.

She shifts lower, to the other breast, mouth hungry and reverent all at once. Her lips close around Nico’s nipple, teasing at first, then biting down gently, then sucking hard enough to make Nico squirm beneath her. 

Every time Nico lets out a whimper or one of those shaky little sounds, Will feels it like a hit—hot, electric—and her mouth gets rougher, teeth tugging, tongue flicking, control slipping a little more each time.

Nico lets out a whine—high, raw, wrecked—and arches up off the mattress. “Will—please—”

Will can barely breathe as she kisses her way back up, heat rolling through her in thick, dizzy waves. When she finds Nico’s mouth, the kiss isn’t soft anymore—it’s teeth and tongue and the kind of want that steals the air from her lungs. Nico’s noises turn desperate, greedy, little gasps and whines that punch straight through Will, winding tight low in her stomach.

Her hips grind down against Nico’s thigh without her even thinking, muscles locking tight with the effort not to just take. She wants this slow—wants Nico trembling and ready, wants to give her everything.

Her hands drift down Nico’s waist, tracing the soft dip of her sides, thumbs hooking into the button of her jeans. Will pauses there, lips brushing Nico’s ear, her voice coming out rough and low. “Can I take these off?”

Nico nods, biting down on her lip, breath shaking against Will’s cheek.

Will pops the button open with careful fingers, sliding the denim down Nico’s hips inch by inch, pressing slow kisses down her stomach as she goes. When she finally pulls the jeans free, she has to stop and look—Nico spread out beneath her, slim legs pale against the dark sheets, black underwear stark against skin. The want hits so hard it knocks the air out of Will’s chest.

Nico shifts, hands twitching up to cover her stomach. Will catches them gently, presses a kiss to her knuckles, her grin soft but full of heat. Then she shimmies out of her own shorts, tossing them aside so it’s just skin and breath and the thin stretch of fabric left between them.

Will hovers, one hand warm and steady against the heat of Nico’s core. Her breath is uneven, pulse hammering in her ears. “Can I touch you here?” she whispers, voice rough, almost shaky with want—but she doesn’t move, not until Nico says so.

Nico hesitates, cheeks flushed a deep, feverish pink. Her eyes flick away, nervous but trusting. “Yeah,” she breathes, small and uncertain, “but… I want to keep these on. For now.”

Will nods instantly, soft and sure. “Yeah. Whatever you need.” She presses a kiss to Nico’s forehead, slow and grounding, then lets her fingers slip just beneath the waistband of Nico’s underwear. The heat she finds there makes her shiver—slick, warm, perfect. A sound escapes her before she can swallow it, low and helpless, like the feeling knocked the breath clean out of her.

“Gods, Nico—” Will looks up at her, eyes wide, grinning without meaning to, breath catching in her throat. “You’re so wet already.”

Nico groans, dragging her arm over her face like she could hide there. “Shut up—oh my gods—”

Will laughs, quiet and a little shaky, her mouth hovering just above the line of Nico’s stomach, her breath skating warm across skin. “Hey, don’t be embarrassed,” she murmurs, pressing a kiss to the soft curve of Nico’s hip, lips dragging slow over bone and skin. “It’s not a bad thing. It’s literally just—biology doing its job. More blood flow down here, everything gets more sensitive, and those little glands near the opening—the Bartholin’s—start producing fluid to, you know, make things easier.”

Her voice dips, slower now, wrecked at the edges as she kisses her way down. “It’s your body getting ready. Loosening up, making it feel good instead of…” Her breath hitches. “Instead of hurting. That’s all it is.”

She pauses, eyes flicking up, a flush across her cheeks, but her mouth curves, reverent and a little stunned. “And gods, Nico—it’s fucking hot.”

Nico peeks out from under her arm, cheeks burning, the faintest, shaky smile tugging at her mouth. “It’s still kind of weird,” she whispers, voice small, uncertain.

Will softens instantly. Her hands slow, gentling against Nico’s skin. “It’s just us,” she murmurs, pressing a kiss to the inside of Nico’s wrist. “If you want to stop, you say the word. Anytime.”

“I don’t want to stop,” she whispers, the words barely holding together but sure all the same. Her fingers tighten around Will’s, grounding them both. “I want this.”

Will presses her fingers back against the warmth inside Nico’s underwear, slow and careful, then eases one finger into her. There’s a soft resistance that gives way with a slick heat that makes Will’s breath catch. She looks up, searching Nico’s face with every movement, her voice low and steady. “How does that feel?”

Nico shifts, trying to find her breath, her hips twitching beneath Will’s hand. “It’s… a little weird? Not bad, just—I’ve never…” She trails off, cheeks dark, the words dissolving into the heat between them.

Will’s heart twists, something sweet and aching settling low in her chest. “You’ve never—like, not even on your own?”

Nico shakes her head, dragging her arm back over her face. “No. Just, like, over my underwear. That’s it.”

Will smiles, breath coming faster now, her pulse hammering in her ears. “Gods, Nico,” she whispers, voice raw, “do you know how many nights I’ve been in the shower thinking about this?” She lets out a shaky, quiet laugh, cheeks hot but unwilling to stop. “I’ve had my fingers inside myself, thinking about you—how you’d sound, how you’d look. You’re all I want.”

Nico makes a small, breathless sound—half shy laugh, half gasp—and it hits Will like a punch. “That’s so—oh my gods, Will—”

Will grins, pressing a kiss just below Nico’s bellybutton, tasting the warmth of her skin. Her finger curls a little, slow and careful, drawing tiny circles inside, every movement deliberate. “Yeah,” she whispers, voice rough, breath catching. “It’s true. You have no idea how badly I want you.” She lifts her head just enough to meet Nico’s gaze, her voice steady even through the shaking in her chest. “But I’ll go as slow as you want. I promise.”

For a heartbeat, Nico just stares at her—wide-eyed, flushed, breathing hard. Then her hands slide up, fingers tangling weakly in Will’s hair, like she needs something to hold onto. Her voice comes out shaky and breathless, almost a whimper. “Gods, Will—please. I’ve never—” She breaks off, swallowing, eyes shining. “Just—don’t stop. Please.”

Will keeps her pace slow, listening to every tremor, every uneven breath, every quiet, startled sound that slips out of Nico’s throat. She curls her fingers a little deeper, thumb tracing lazy circles over Nico’s hip, grounding them both in the rhythm of it.

Nico’s thighs tense and squeeze around her hand—hesitant at first, then greedy, chasing the pressure. The small, shaky moan that follows nearly undoes Will. She bites her lip, heat pooling low in her stomach, the weight of it all hitting her at once: Nico’s letting her in, opening up, trembling but sure.

She leans in, kissing along Nico’s ribs, slow and reverent, letting her mouth linger at every notch of bone. Between each kiss, she murmurs against Nico’s skin, her voice warm and low. “That’s it, baby. Just let yourself feel it. You’re so beautiful like this—gods, you have no idea.”

A soft, startled moan slips out of Nico—half gasp, half sigh—and it hits Will like a spark catching, hot and shaky low in her chest. When Nico shifts closer, thighs parting just a little more, Will eases in another finger, careful, her breath catching right along with Nico’s.

Nico tenses suddenly, her breath snagging, and Will freezes. “Hey,” she whispers, voice rough, too aware of how hard her heart is pounding. “Is that… okay?”

Nico’s lashes flutter, cheeks flushed. “Yeah,” she breathes out, shaky but sure. “Yeah, it’s good. Weird. But good.”

Will huffs out a nervous laugh that gets lost against Nico’s stomach. “Weird’s fair. I’ve never done this before either, so—uh—feel free to tell me if I’m doing something dumb.”

Nico lets out a breath that’s almost a laugh, small and warm. “You’re not. It feels good.”

That’s all it takes for Will to move again, slow and deliberate. Nico’s body softens beneath her touch, her hips rolling down to meet the movement, breath breaking into these quiet, helpless little sounds that make Will feel dizzy.

“Oh—fuck—Will—” Nico gasps, head tipping back.

Will groans quietly, the sound rough and unsteady. “Gods, that’s—fuck. You feel amazing.”

Nico bites her lip, a smile flickering through the flush on her face. “You sound like you’re about to pass out.”

Will laughs, breathless. “Probably am.” She curls her fingers, just to see it—the way Nico’s whole body shudders, hips jerking up like she’s chasing it now.

Nico’s hand finds her wrist, holding her there, and her voice comes out wrecked. “Will, don’t stop. Please.”

Will swallows hard, the nerves and heat tangling together until she can barely breathe. “Yeah,” she whispers, rough and earnest. “I won’t. Just—keep moving with me. That’s it. Just like that.”

Nico bites her lip, head tossing against the pillow, hair sticking to her damp forehead. Between ragged breaths she manages, voice shaky and low, “Will—please—can you… can you take my underwear off?”

For a second Will forgets how to breathe. She nods, a laugh catching somewhere in her throat—nervous, thrilled, a little unsteady. “Yeah,” she whispers, leaning down to kiss the sharp curve of Nico’s hip. “Yeah. I’ve got you.”

Her hands are shaking when she hooks her thumbs under the waistband, dragging the soft fabric down over warm, trembling thighs. It’s clumsy, too careful, but Nico lifts her hips to help, breath hitching. The air between them thickens—heat and nerves tangling together—Nico flushed and shaking, Will aching everywhere. She pushes the underwear past Nico’s knees and lets it drop somewhere on the floor.

And then she just… stops. Looking. Taking it in.

Nico’s legs fall open, shy but sure, and the sight hits Will like a punch to the gut—messy, pink, flushed, framed by a soft shadow of dark hair. So vulnerable and so fucking beautiful she almost forgets what she’s supposed to be doing. Her breath catches, lips parting, and she swallows hard.

“Gods, Nico,” she whispers, and her voice comes out wrecked.

Her hand moves before she can overthink it. Fingers slip between Nico’s thighs, tracing through the wet heat, spreading it slow just to see how it glistens in the low light. Nico shivers, hips jerking up into the touch, a broken noise spilling out of her like she can’t hold it in. Will exhales, the sound shaky, and pushes her fingers inside—deeper this time—until they’re buried to the hilt. Her thumb finds Nico’s clit, circling soft and steady, and the way Nico clenches around her makes her stomach twist hot and sharp.

Will’s eyes stay locked on the sight of it—her fingers disappearing into Nico, slick and tight around her, pulling her in like she belongs there. The sounds fill the room, filthy and perfect, and her pulse stutters with every push, every drag. Nico’s hips twitch again, helpless, her breath catching on a half-moan, and Will can’t help it—she lets out a low, shaky sound against the heat of Nico’s skin, wrecked by how good it looks, how good she looks spread open and trembling beneath her.

“Remember when I told you…” Will’s voice catches, the words snagging on a laugh that’s too breathless to sound steady. “How girls can do all kinds of things together?”

Nico nods, cheeks flushed, voice small and shaky. “Yeah…?”

Will’s eyes drop to her mouth, her pulse hammering so hard she can feel it in her fingertips. “I—” she swallows, tries again, “I want to do that to you. I want to taste you.” The last part comes out rough, almost a whisper.

Nico blinks like she’s short-circuiting, lips parting, breath stuttering. “You mean… with your mouth?”

Will lets out a low, shaky groan, nodding before she can stop herself. “Yeah,” she breathes, the sound catching in her throat. “Gods, Nico, I—I want to eat you out… until you can’t even—fuck—think straight. I’ve thought about it so many times. Nico—please, I’ve wanted this for so long.”

Nico lets out a laugh that splinters halfway through, catching on a sharp inhale. “Okay,” she breathes, the word small and shaky. Her cheeks flush, her eyes flick down and back up to Will, like she can’t quite believe she’s saying it. “Yeah… gods, yeah.” Her breath stumbles over the next words, voice breaking apart. “Please, Will. Please—just… fuck, please.”

That’s all it takes to break whatever restraint Will’s been clinging to. She leans in, pressing an open-mouthed kiss to the inside of Nico’s thigh. The heat and scent of her makes Will’s head spin, dizzy and greedy all at once. Her fingers keep moving—slow, deep, coaxing her open—while she sinks lower, mouth hovering just above slick, flushed skin.

“Hey.” The word slips out of her, shaky but sure. “If it’s too much, just say so. But I want to make you feel good. I want—” her breath stumbles, catching in her throat, “—you.”

Nico lets out a breath that’s half a laugh, half a gasp. Her fingers tighten against the sheets, but her gaze doesn’t waver. She’s flushed, breathing too fast, but there’s a spark beneath the nerves now—something eager, unsteady in the best way.

“It’s not too much,” she pants, a shaky laugh catching at the end. “Gods, Solace—if anything, you better hurry up.”

Will wants to, but gods, her hands won’t stop shaking.She’s never been this close to another girl before—not like this, not with the heat of someone else’s skin inches from her mouth, not with her own heartbeat hammering so hard it drowns everything else out. Her whole body aches with it, a sharp, desperate pulse between her legs that gets worse every time Nico gasps. For a moment she can’t move—she just stares, pulse loud in her ears, hunger twisting tight in her chest, every nerve lit up and screaming to taste, to learn.

Will lowers her head slowly, careful like this is something sacred. Her tongue traces a single line up the seam of Nico’s folds, tentative, reverent, hunting for every tiny twitch, every sharp breath that slips out of Nico’s mouth. The taste hits her tongue—warm, sweet, a little musky—and it’s enough to make her moan against Nico’s skin, the sound rough and quiet, like it’s being dragged straight out of her. Nico shivers, hips giving the smallest jerk upward.

Will tries everything she’s ever imagined in the dark—soft flicks, broad, slow licks, tiny circles around Nico’s clit. At first it’s clumsy curiosity, all instinct and guesswork, her own breath shaking with every movement. She watches Nico’s reactions like they’re the only map she has: the catch of her breath, the tremor in her thighs, the way her hands fist in the sheets.

It doesn’t take long for the shy, shaky breaths to turn into something messier. Will flattens her tongue, then swirls, then flicks a little firmer, and the sound Nico makes—soft and wrecked and entirely unguarded—punches through her like heat. Nico’s hips start to roll up into her mouth, needy now, her moans spilling out broken and desperate, and Will’s own pulse stumbles right along with them.

She glances up, almost without meaning to—watching the way Nico’s eyes flutter shut, mouth falling open on a shaky gasp, breath catching against Will’s ear. It should be enough, but the need for reassurance claws at her, urgent and desperate in her chest. 

She presses her mouth to Nico’s skin, words caught between a plea and a prayer. “Is that okay?” she whispers, voice rough and unsteady, needing the answer like air. It’s not just a habit; she needs to know she’s wanted, that she’s making Nico feel good, that she isn’t lost in her own wanting alone.

Nico nods quickly, head tipping back against the pillow, cheeks flushed deep red. “Yeah—fuck, Will, that’s… that’s really good. Don’t stop.”

That’s all Will needs. She licks a little firmer, circles Nico’s clit, and the sound that rips out of Nico is high and broken, her thighs trembling around Will’s shoulders. Will focuses there, right where Nico reacts the most, flicking and pressing in small, steady movements, greedy for every sound that falls from her lips.

Will’s fingers slide back in, deeper this time, and her wrist wobbles a little with the effort. She’s not smooth or practiced—not really—but gods, she wants to get it right. Her knuckles press tight, her hand finding a rhythm that’s messy and honest, following every sharp breath Nico lets out, every tremor that runs through her. This isn’t like the quiet, fast way she touches herself in the dark. This is louder, heavier—Nico’s body clenching around her, warm and wet, pulling her in.

The air feels thick with heat and sound—her fingers working in and out, Nico’s hips rising to meet her hand. Will can feel every tremor as Nico unravels beneath her, hands buried in Will’s hair, thighs spread wide, all trace of shyness stripped away.

Each gasp turns into a moan, each moan breaks into something rawer—louder, wrecked. Nico’s legs shake, her heels digging into Will’s lower back, hips jerking up to chase more pressure. Will can barely think; all she can do is follow, give Nico everything she’s asking for without words.

She groans against her, hips grinding into the sheets, the sound vibrating against warm skin. Her tongue drags hard over Nico’s clit before she pushes it inside, fucking her slow and messy, breathing hard through her nose to keep going. Nico’s warmth floods her mouth, sweet and dizzying. Will’s lips are wet, her chin damp, but she doesn’t stop—she can’t. Nico’s falling apart beneath her hands and tongue, and Will’s entire body is lit up with the thrill of making it happen.

Nico’s getting close—Will can feel it in the way her thighs tighten around her head, in the sharp twitch of her hips, in the way her voice starts to unravel. “Will—oh my gods—don’t stop, please, please, I’m right there—”

Will’s pulse stutters. She pushes her tongue deeper, then pulls back to suck at Nico’s clit, messy and desperate, chasing the sound of her. She’s shaking a little, too turned on to hide it, but she can’t stop—won’t stop.

Her voice slips out against Nico’s skin, shaky and wrecked. “Yeah—fuck—just… let go,” she breathes, the words breaking apart in her mouth. “I’ve got you. I’ve got you.” It’s more a plea than anything else, soft and raw, soaked in want. 

Nico’s whole body snaps tight, back arching off the bed, a raw, broken sound tearing out of her. “Will—fuck—” Her thighs clamp around Will’s head, hips jerking up helplessly as she cums, hot and wild against her mouth.

Will moans into her, swallowing every shudder like she can’t get enough. She keeps licking, slower now but unrelenting, letting Nico grind against her tongue, letting her shake herself apart. The taste of her, the sounds, the heat—it all crashes over Will at once, dizzy and consuming, every breath dragging her deeper under.

Only when Nico starts to tremble, breath catching on little whimpers, does Will ease up—kissing the inside of her thigh, wet mouth dragging over flushed skin, still breathing like she’s just run a mile. She grins against the warmth there, dazed and hungry, tasting Nico on her tongue.

Will drags herself up the bed, arms shaky, mouth slick, cheeks flushed, grinning like she’s drunk on it. She catches Nico’s face between her hands and kisses her before she can even think about moving away—hungry, messy, all heat and tongue. Nico makes a startled little noise against her mouth, half gasp, half whimper, her body still loose and trembling from the orgasm.

Then she pulls back, blinking up at Will, chest heaving, eyes wide like she’s just realised what’s happening. “Oh my gods,” she pants, voice high and breathless, a flush blooming bright across her cheeks. “I can taste myself—ew, Will—”

Will laughs, the sound rough and a little wrecked, spilling out before she can help it. “Yeah? Good.” Her grin tips crooked, heat prickling under her skin. She lifts her hand—slow, almost theatrical—fingers still slick, catching the light. She brings them to her mouth, watching Nico, and sucks them clean one by one, tongue curling, making a show of it. The taste is heady and electric and she lets out a low, pleased sound, almost grinning around her fingers, wanting Nico to see every bit of it. When she pulls her hand away, she can’t help the smile tugging at her mouth. 

Nico lets out a scandalised little noise and buries her face in the pillow, shoulders tense and pink creeping down her chest. “Will, don’t do that—”

Will just laughs again, soft and shameless, her voice still shaky from everything they’ve just done. “It’s hot, Nico. Seriously. The hottest thing.”

She leans back down, close enough she’s sure Nico can feel her breath ghosting over her lips, and kisses her again—slower this time, coaxing, letting Nico taste what she’s been teasing her with. Nico shivers, caught between mortified and undone, a soft noise slipping out against Will’s mouth.

When they pull apart she groans, rolling her eyes like she’s trying to be annoyed, but the corners of her mouth betray her—tugging up into a small, unwilling smile. She reaches up, fingers sliding into Will’s hair, and tugs her down until their mouths crash together again. “Hmm,” she murmurs against her lips. “Maybe a little.”

Their kisses turn sloppier, heat spilling between them like it’s been waiting all night. Will gasps into Nico’s mouth as her hips start to move without thought, slow and desperate, grinding down against the solid press of Nico’s thigh. The friction is almost too much too fast—her underwear is already damp, and every drag of her clit over the tense muscle makes her shudder, breath hitching high in her throat. Nico shifts beneath her, thigh flexing, and Will moans into her mouth, the sound shameless and raw.

She pulls back, flushed and panting, curls sticking to her forehead. “Sorry,” she manages between shallow breaths, laughing a little because it’s either that or combust. “I feel like I’m just—humping your leg like a pillow. Gods, it feels so good though.”

Nico blinks at her, eyes wide and dark, the blush creeping down her neck now. There’s a flicker of something new in her face—nerves, yes, but also a kind of hesitant want. “I—um—yeah. That’s…that’s how I—” She falters, the words catching on embarrassment, cheeks burning. “It’s the only way I can get off, usually. Alone. With a pillow.”

Will’s whole body tightens at the confession, a hot pulse running through her like someone struck a match beneath her skin. She looks down at Nico, breath shaky, grinning like she can’t help herself. “Yeah?” she pants, heat bleeding into every word. “Thats so—fuck, Nico… you’re gonna kill me.”

The thought blooms fast, unspooling before she can stop it. She pictures Nico on her stomach, hips rolling against the pillow in slow, desperate little movements, chasing friction like it’s the only thing that matters. Will can almost hear it—the soft, wrecked sounds Nico makes when she’s trying not to make a sound at all. It coils hot and tight in her stomach, leaves her dizzy. She wonders if Nico would think about her then—if her name would slip out against the sheets, low and breathless, like something she couldn’t hold back.

Nico nods, a little shy, her lashes low and her breath uneven, but her hands tell a different story. They slide down to Will’s hips, fingers digging in, steady and sure, pulling her closer. That quiet touch sends heat sparking through Will’s veins.

She groans, the sound dragging out of her like a plea, hips rolling harder against Nico’s thigh. “Gods,” she pants, voice shaking, “then watch me. Please, Nico. Let me—let me get off on you.”

Something shifts in Nico at that. Her breathing steadies, her hands tighten, and she moves—hesitant at first, then with a growing boldness. She lifts her thigh, pushing up to meet Will’s rhythm. The friction is perfect—rough and hot and dizzying—and Will’s moan spills out helplessly, half a gasp, half a sob.

“Fuck, Nico—just like that—please—”

Her whole body is moving now, rocking down against Nico’s leg with a desperation she can’t hold back. Each drag sends heat punching low through her stomach, underwear soaked, every slick slide against Nico’s skin sparking more. Nico’s hands grip harder, like she wants to feel every shiver, and Will thinks she might actually lose her mind.

“You look so pretty like this,” Nico whispers, voice unsteady but certain in a way her hands already are. She tugs Will in for a kiss, messy and open, all teeth and breath and heat.

Will whimpers into her mouth, the sound small and wrecked, grinding down like she can’t get close enough. Her thighs tremble, rhythm stuttering, and Nico moves with her—pressing up to meet every frantic roll of her hips. It’s intimate and perfect, and the way Nico watches her, wide-eyed and hungry, makes Will’s pulse pound so hard she can feel it in her teeth. 

She’s so close—hips stuttering, breath coming in these little broken gasps, everything inside her drawn tight like a wire about to snap. One more drag against Nico’s thigh and she knows she’ll fall apart right there—messy, unguarded, desperate.

But then Nico’s hands clamp down on her hips, firm and sudden, stopping her mid-roll. Will chokes on a gasp, every muscle jerking tight as she tries not to cum from the shock alone. She blinks through the haze, chest heaving, sweat slicking her skin. Nico’s face is flushed deep red, eyes darting down, like she can’t quite hold Will’s gaze, but she doesn’t let go. Will can feel the warmth of Nico’s breath against her shoulder, uneven and shaky.

When Nico speaks, her voice is small, nervous, but achingly honest. “It’s so hot watching you,” she mumbles, the words almost lost against Will’s skin. “But—um—I want to actually get you off. I just…I don’t really know what I’m doing. I want it to be good.”

Will swears her heart skips a beat, want thrumming low and constant, but it’s the look on Nico’s face that nearly undoes her—wide-eyed, flushed, so much trust tangled up in nerves she feels it like a pulse under her own skin. It hits her all at once: this isn’t just Nico’s first time. It’s hers too. Both of them new to this, both a little terrified, both pretending not to be.

She lifts a hand, tipping Nico’s chin up with her thumb until their eyes meet again. Nico’s pupils are blown wide, mouth soft and bitten pink. Will brushes her thumb along her jaw, slow and steady, grounding them both. Her grin isn’t teasing this time—it’s warm and a little shaky at the edges, her own nerves threaded into it.

“It’ll be good because it’s you,” she says, voice rough but sure. She leans in until their foreheads touch, until Nico can feel every shaky breath against her mouth. “I want you, Nico. Just you.”

Nico’s hands hover uncertainly at Will’s hips, fingers trembling like she’s not sure if she’s allowed to touch. Her voice cracks a little when she speaks, soft and nervous. “But what if I mess it up? I don’t—I’ve never…” The words trail off, cheeks flushed, breath shaky against Will’s collarbone.

Will leans in, catching her mouth in a slow kiss that’s more reassurance than heat at first—soft lips, warm breath, steady. She lingers there, smiling against Nico’s mouth before she pulls back just enough to whisper, “You won’t mess it up.” Her voice is low, warm, a little unsteady too. “But…I’ll show you. I’ll teach you what I like.”

Something shifts in Nico’s expression. The nerves are still there, written all over the scrunch of her brow and the pink in her cheeks, but now there’s something else threaded through it—something hungry, a little braver. “Okay,” she says, biting her lip, voice small but sure. “Show me.”

Will slides her underwear down, kicking them aside without a second thought. Her pulse is hammering, her skin flushed everywhere Nico touches, but she doesn’t flinch from the exposure. She shifts forward, then leans back against Nico’s chest, her spine pressing into the warm line of Nico’s body. The position is so intimate it makes her head spin—Nico beneath her, holding her, their breaths tangling in the thick air.

Nico’s hands find her waist, still trembling but steady as they settle, thumbs digging into warm skin. Will can feel the frantic thud of Nico’s heartbeat through the press of spine to sternum. She reaches down, finds Nico’s hand, and guides it between her legs—slow, deliberate, pressing her fingers right where she wants them. 

She tilts her head back, looking up at Nico, drinking in the sight of her flushed cheeks, wide eyes, and the raw hunger painted all over her face. 

“Right here,” Will breathes, her voice catching halfway through the words. She wraps her hand around Nico’s wrist and guides her fingers down, slow and deliberate, until they brush the soft, swollen spot at the top of her core. “That’s my clit,” she whispers, tilting her head up so her breath ghosts against Nico’s jaw. “Feels like a little bump. It’s got likeeight thousand nerve endings, that’s why it feels so—fuck, Nico, yes—right there. Slow circles. A little pressure—yeah, just like that.”

Nico’s touch is hesitant, trembling against her at first, but Will doesn’t rush her. Every shaky circle drags a sound out of her throat—soft, broken, the kind of moan she can’t control. She spreads her legs wider without even meaning to, her hips rolling up to meet Nico’s hand, body chasing the touch. Heat pulses low in her stomach, sharp and liquid, until she can barely keep still. “Gods, yes,” she pants, the words spilling out rough and unfiltered, “keep going, don’t stop—fuck, that feels so good—”

Nico’s flush deepens, spreading from her cheeks down her neck, and her voice is barely a whisper when it slips out, warm against Will’s ear. “You really… do this to yourself?”

Will lets out a laugh that’s more a gasp, breathless and messy, like the truth has been sitting just under her tongue for weeks. “Every night I can’t sleep,” she admits, the words tumbling out between shaky breaths. “Especially after we make out—I go straight to the shower and think about your hands, your mouth, everything.”

Her hips jerk as Nico’s fingers brush just right, and she moans, loud and unashamed, clutching at Nico’s forearm like she needs something to hold her down. “That night you wore my hoodie with nothing underneath?” she gasps, eyes fluttering shut. “I nearly lost it.”

Nico’s fingers slip, nerves making her clumsy, and the jolt of it rips a sound out of Will—half a gasp, half a moan. She catches Nico’s wrist before she can pull away, steadying her, guiding her right back to where she wants her most. Her breath stutters, chest rising fast against Nico’s, and she presses down, voice breaking as it pours out of her. “Right there—fuck, right there, Nico—”

Her thighs start to tremble, heat rolling through her in waves. Her head tips back against Nico’s shoulder, mouth open, a raw moan spilling out. She doesn’t try to quiet herself—doesn’t care. Every sound is a plea, a map, something for Nico to follow. “You feel that?” she pants, hips rocking up into Nico’s hand. “I can’t—fuck—I can’t get enough. That’s what you do to me. Please, don’t stop…don’t stop…”

Nico’s breath stutters against her ear, soft and shaky, like she can’t quite believe the words coming out of her mouth. “Yeah,” she whispers, the sound barely there. “Yeah, I can feel it.” Her voice catches on a moan, quiet but wrecked, and Will feels the shiver run through her. Nico’s fingers twitch lower, hesitant for a heartbeat before pressing back exactly where Will’s been guiding her.

“Gods, Will,” Nico breathes, the words breaking like they’re too big for her mouth. “You’re so…hot, fuck, so—wet.” The last word slips out on a gasp, barely more than a breath. It sounds half-disbelieving, half-hungry. Her breath hitches, another moan catching in her throat as she watches Will fall apart in her hands. “Please,” she gasps, the word catching. “I just—fuck—I want to make you feel good.”

And gods, Will can’t fucking believe this—the same girl who used to turn scarlet when Will so much as kissed her cheek has her hand between her legs now, rubbing her clit and whispering about how wet she is. The words go straight to her spine, hot and dizzying, and a shaky, broken “fuck” slips out before she can stop it, more a whine than a word, her whole body arching into the touch.

She grabs Nico’s hand again, shaking, and drags it lower, guiding without hesitation, her pulse hammering so loud it drowns out everything else. Nico’s fingers brush over the spot where Will’s clenching around nothing, twitching like she’s begging for it without words, and the touch rips a gasp out of her, sharp and messy.

“Here,” she manages, voice wrecked and shaking. “Push in—just… go slow.”

Nico’s hand trembles against her, breath catching hard against Will’s shoulder. “I’m gonna be so bad at this,” she whispers, the sound wobbling between panic and want, a nervous laugh caught in her throat. 

Will can’t help the grin that breaks through the heat of it all—messy, breathless, more instinct than thought. Her pulse is pounding in her ears, everything fogged with want. “It’s okay,” she manages, voice rough and shaking. “I want you to. I’ll teach you—just do what I say.”

She tilts her hips into Nico’s hand, guiding her in, gasping at the stretch—sharp and soft all at once, burning and blooming in the same breath. It’s dizzying. Nico’s touch isn’t practiced, not even close, but it’s careful, warm, so fucking real that it makes something deep in Will ache. She’s already close, every nerve wired straight to Nico’s fingers.

“Oh gods, Will…” Nico’s voice cracks on her name, shaky and stunned as her fingers ease deeper. “You’re so fuck—so warm, I—shit—”

Will laughs, breathless and wrecked, the sound dissolving into a moan when Nico’s knuckles brush just right. Her hips roll up, greedy for more. “Okay, right there,” she pants, her hand gripping Nico’s wrist, helping her move. “Curl your fingers a little—like a ‘come here’ thing. You’ll feel a spot, kind of rougher—fuck, yeah, there—”

Nico’s breath catches; her fingers twitch inside her, searching. When they find it, the effect is instant—Will’s whole body jolts like she’s been hit with a live wire, a raw sound tearing out of her throat, white heat racing up her spine.

“That?” Nico breathes, voice tiny, eyes wide, like she can’t believe she’s the one making Will shake like this.

Will groans, nodding hard, her hips jerking helplessly against Nico’s hand. “Yes—fuck—just like that,” she breathes, voice cracking. “The front wall—right behind the bone—yeah, there. That’s the G-spot. It’s—fuck—it’s actually just an extension of the clitoris, all the nerve endings wrap around—” her voice catches on a moan, shuddering through her, “—fuck, right there.”

A shaky laugh slips out of Nico, breath hot against her ear, equal parts flustered and wrecked. Will’s hand finds Nico’s wrist, wrapping around it, steadying the angle, keeping her right where she wants her. “Apparently a lot of people miss it,” she pants, guiding her in tighter, deeper. “But you’re—fuck—you’re right there—right fucking there—”

“Gods,” Nico whispers, breath hot against Will’s neck, “I can feel you shaking.”

Will laughs, broken and breathless, head tipping back. “Yeah,” she gasps, hips rolling up into Nico’s hand, every muscle pulled tight. “That’s because you’re making me lose my fucking mind.”

Nico’s fingers slide in and out of her, curling with each thrust, her thumb dragging soft, messy circles over Will’s clit, getting bolder every time Will cries out. The room is thick with wet sounds and ragged breathing, the rhythm obscene, too much and nowhere near enough all at once.

Will can feel her heartbeat everywhere—thudding hard beneath her skin, pulsing between her legs, rattling against her ribs. It climbs up her throat, spills out of her as a rough, helpless laugh, the sound tearing free like it’s got claws.

“Gods, you’re such a quick study,” she gasps, the words breaking apart against the air. “Faster—deeper—then curl—fuck, yes, just like that—”

Nico’s thighs cage her in, warm against Will’s hips, her chest flush to Will’s back. She tilts forward with every thrust, driving it through Will’s whole body. Nico’s mouth finds the soft curve of Will’s neck, teeth grazing skin, sucking just enough to make Will shudder. Her free hand slides up, over her ribs, cupping a breast and rolling a nipple between her fingers. It’s too much, too close, everywhere at once.

Will’s hips jerk up, greedy, chasing every drag of Nico’s thumb, her fingers locking around Nico’s wrist to keep her right there. Their breathing tangles—Nico’s hot against her ear, Will’s breaking open with every gasp. Pressure coils inside her, sharp and brutal, a live wire drawn too tight.

It hits like a punch. Her body locks, arches into Nico’s hold, vision stuttering out at the edges. Nico’s mouth is still at her neck, still dragging sounds out of her, her hand on Will’s breast tightening just enough to make her whine. Pleasure tears through her in hard, dizzying waves, a raw cry spilling from her throat, Nico’s name cracked and wrecked on her tongue. She jerks against Nico’s hand, hips rolling helplessly, begging without words for Nico to keep going, to not fucking stop.

Nico’s breath stutters against her neck, still hot and shaky, but now her mouth starts to move—kissing lower, open-mouthed and wet, teeth grazing along the edge of Will’s pulse. She drags her lips down the line of her throat, sucking hard enough to leave it blooming red. Her free hand on Will’s chest grows bolder too, fingers sliding over the curve of her breast, rolling and tugging at her nipple like she’s chasing every sound that falls out of Will’s mouth.

“Gods—yeah,” she whispers against Will’s skin, voice splintering. “You’re okay. Just… breathe for me. Let it happen.”

Her fingers between Will’s legs keep moving, steadier now, slick rhythm turning deliberate, confident. The sound of it makes her shudder against Will’s back, a quiet, broken noise catching in her throat.

“Fuck,” Nico breathes, the word barely holding together, “you look so fucking good right now.”

Will tips her head back, still trying to catch her breath, cheeks flushed, lips bitten red. Sweat clings to her skin, the afterglow sharp and restless beneath it. She reaches up, hooks her hand behind Nico’s neck, and drags her down into a kiss that’s all teeth and heat—sloppy, frantic, more want than finesse.

Nico’s breath stutters against her mouth, her whole body pressed tight to Will’s back, trembling like she’s barely holding herself upright. Her face is flushed deep, eyes wide and blown out, mouth parted on shaky breaths. She looks wrecked in the best way—like she’s been running and hasn’t figured out how to stop.

Will tilts her head up, still panting, voice rough and low. “You okay up there?”

Nico just stares at her, tongue darting out to wet her lips, like the words are stuck somewhere behind her teeth. “That was—Will, that was—gods, I don’t even—” She cuts herself off on a gasp, something wild sparking behind her eyes. The rest tumbles out before she can catch it, shaky and wrecked. “Can you—fuck—will you teach me how to eat you out? Please?”

It’s a raw sound, more breath than voice, caught between a moan and a prayer.

A shiver tears down Will’s spine, heat pooling low and fast. Her grin goes sharp, feral, and she fists her hands in Nico’s hair, tugging her down into another open-mouthed, filthy kiss. It’s messy—teeth and breath and the faint taste of salt on her tongue.

“Yeah,” Will breathes, a shaky laugh catching in her throat. “I’ll teach you—fuck—if I can even remember how to speak right now.”

She shifts onto her back, breath still uneven, a shaky grin tugging at the corners of her mouth. Her palm presses into the sheets as she gestures Nico closer. “Hey—grab a pillow and stick it under my hips,” she murmurs, voice soft but a little breathless. “It’ll make it easier on your neck.”

The mattress dips as Nico shifts, crawling down between Will’s thighs. Will feels the pillow slide beneath her hips, the new angle tipping her open, baring her fully to the warm air of the room. Nico settles on her knees, shoulders framed between Will’s legs, hair falling loose around her flushed face.

She hesitates—just for a breath—her hands hovering at Will’s thighs like she’s not sure where to start. But her eyes give her away: wide and dark, blown out with hunger. She looks wrecked already, like the sight of Will spread open in front of her has knocked the breath from her chest.

And gods, the sight of her—Nico, kneeling there between her legs, flushed and trembling, looking at her like that—hits Will low and hard. Her body clenches down on nothing, tight and desperate, like it’s reaching for Nico before her voice can. A sharp, wrecked sound slips out of her throat, hips twitching up toward the heat of Nico’s stare.

Will’s fingers tighten in Nico’s hair, hips arching up toward the heat of her mouth, a half-laugh caught in her throat. “Okay—so, I’ll be real,” she pants, breath hitching between words, “I don’t have as many instructions for this part. I, uh—might’ve done a lot of research before, but y’know…I’ve only gone down on one girl, and it was you, like, ten minutes ago.”

Nico glances up, cheeks flushed, lips kiss-swollen, breath coming fast. Her eyes are wide and locked on Will like she can’t quite look away. “Wait—” she breathes, a shaky laugh catching in her throat, “You researched how to give oral sex?”

Will bites down on her bottom lip, heat flooding her cheeks. The laugh that spills out of her is messy and desperate, broken up by the sound of her own breathing. “Yeah,” she pants, a shaky edge threading through the word. “I research everything. And I wanted to be good at it—for you.”

Nico shakes her head, but Will catches the way her grin starts to curve—quick, unguarded, bright. It punches the air right out of Will’s chest, sharp and warm all at once.

“Okay,” Nico says, her voice steadier now, though it still catches at the edges. She shifts closer, hands sliding up Will’s thighs, eyes wide and intent. “But you have to keep talking me through it,” she whispers, like she’s already half-lost in the thought of it. “I want to make it good for you. All of it. So… tell me everything.”

Will’s breath catches low in her chest, her hand trembling as she threads it through Nico’s hair. “Okay,” she pants, voice rough, “start with your tongue flat… slow, broad strokes. Yeah—like that, fuck—just keep it steady.” Her head tips back, a raw sound spilling out. “Now… right there, on my clit. Don’t rush it. When you suck, be gentle—fuck—yeah, soft, not too hard. Think pressure, not speed. Gods, Nico—yes—”

Nico moans against her, the sound vibrating straight through her stomach, making her hips jerk up. Her thighs tremble around Nico’s head, and her fingers clutch at dark hair just to anchor herself. “Shit—” Will gasps, voice breaking apart, “you’re learning so fast—fuck, that’s perfect—don’t stop, please.”

Nico shifts closer, her hands sliding up the outside of Will’s thighs, thumbs pressing into the soft skin like she’s steadying herself. Then her mouth moves where Will told her—tongue flat, slow and deliberate, dragging from the bottom up. She starts light, testing, and Will can feel every cautious adjustment: the way Nico listens, learns, presses in a little firmer when Will’s breath stutters.

Will’s hips jerk up at the first real lick, the pleasure sharp and bright, catching low in her stomach. Nico does it again, firmer this time, and then flicks her tongue over the tip of Will’s clit exactly how she’d been told—short, careful strokes that make Will gasp. When she finally seals her mouth around her, sucking gentle and steady, it hits like heat catching a fuse.

Nico pulls back just long enough for air to hit Will’s slick skin, cool against the heat between her thighs. Her lips are shiny, cheeks flushed all the way to her ears, eyes blown wide and wild. She looks wrecked in the prettiest way—like she might beg.

Her voice comes out in a rush, shaky and hungry, like she’s trying to catch her breath and talk at the same time. “Can I—how do I—I want to get my tongue in you.” she stammers, lips brushing the inside of Will’s thigh as she speaks. “I want more, Will. Please.”

Will’s whole body tightens, the sound of Nico’s voice hitting her like a spark down her spine. A shaky, breathless laugh slips out of her, almost a moan. She reaches down, cupping Nico’s face, her thumb dragging across her flushed, damp skin. “Yeah,” she pants, voice cracking on the word. “Fuck—yeah. Please, baby, just—come here.”

Will reaches down, threading her fingers through Nico’s hair, guiding her closer until her breath brushes hot against her. Her hips tilt up without thought, body drawn to her like gravity. “Okay,” she pants, voice splintering on each breath. “Start slow. Tongue flat—yeah, right there—now push in, just a little. Let me feel you.”

Nico follows, shy at first, her tongue pressing in with a soft, tentative push that still has Will’s head tipping back, a raw sound tearing loose from her throat. “Fuck—Nico—yes,” Will gasps, the word cracking in the middle.

“Now—” she manages, breath shaking, “pull back and do it again. A little firmer. Don’t think about being perfect. Just follow me—follow how I move.”

Nico hums low against her, the vibration hitting Will right in the gut, making her hips jerk. She does it again—deeper this time—her tongue moving in messy, eager strokes, each push and drag drawing more sounds out of Will. Her thighs tremble, her hands fist in Nico’s hair, holding on because the pleasure is already threatening to pull her apart.

“That’s it,” Will breathes, the words wrecked and shaking. “Gods, just like that. You’re so fucking good at this, baby. Every bit of it.”

Nico’s breath stutters, a small, shaky sound that hits Will like a spark. “Like this?” she whispers, voice rough and trembling, so turned on it barely sounds like her. “Gods, Will—fuck—you taste so—” Her words catch, breaking apart on a moan.

Will lets out a sound that’s somewhere between a groan and a gasp, hips rolling down into Nico’s mouth, needing more, needing everything. “Yeah—just like that,” she pants, voice fraying at the edges. “Push your tongue in deeper—fuck, Nico, yes—”

Nico moves with her, shy and messy but eager, her tongue slipping inside and following every twitch and roll of Will’s hips. Her mouth is hot and wet, each push and drag a little bolder than the last, and it’s so real—clumsy, hungry, perfect. Will’s thighs tremble around her, fingers knotted tight in dark hair, pulling her closer without even meaning to.

“Gods,” Will gasps, breath catching hard. “You’re so fucking good—Nico—so good at this—”

Nico moans against her, and the sound vibrates through her in a way that makes Will’s whole body jerk. Her head falls back, throat working around a desperate, broken noise.

“Now—fuck—” Will gasps, the word cracking out of her like it’s been dragged from somewhere deep. Her hips stutter against Nico’s mouth, breath coming in short, messy bursts. “Nico—please—just—” She reaches down, grabbing at Nico’s wrist, clinging to her like she might come apart without it. “Rub—fuck—my clit. With your thumb. While you—gods, just keep your tongue inside me, please.”

Nico shifts, her thumb sliding up, pressing down exactly where Will’s already throbbing for it. The touch is hesitant for half a second—slippery and uncertain—but the second it lands, Will’s whole body arches off the mattress, a raw sound tearing out of her.

Her moans tumble out in broken, ragged bursts, hips stuttering against the heat of Nico’s mouth. Every push of her tongue, every careful press of her thumb winds the pleasure tighter, a hot, bright coil pulling taut low in Will’s stomach.

“Fuck—Nico—gods—” Will gasps, voice splintering into a whimper. “You’re gonna make me—fuck—don’t stop. Just like that. More—please, more—”

Nico doesn’t falter. She moves like she’s learning by instinct—tongue pushing deep inside Will before slipping up to circle her clit, slow at first, then quicker, rougher, until each flick of her tongue sends another sharp pulse through Will’s stomach. Her thumb drags lazy, perfect circles against her, syncing with the rhythm of her mouth. When she pulls back to breathe, it’s only for a heartbeat, her lips wet, tongue already sliding back in.

The room is heavy with heat, the sound of it slick and messy, their breathing tangled together. Sweat slicks down Will’s chest, her body trembling like she’s holding on by a thread. One hand fists in the sheets, the other buried in Nico’s hair, holding her there without even meaning to.

Will forces her eyes open, looks down—and nearly unravels on the spot. Nico’s between her thighs, flushed and flushed, mouth open, tongue out, licking her like she can’t get enough. Her lashes are damp, cheeks pink, jaw working. It’s so fucking intimate—seeing her like that, tasting her, wanting her this much—that Will’s hips jerk up and a wrecked sound tears out of her throat.

“Gods—please—please, don’t stop, I’ll do anything, just—fuck—” she babbles, voice shaking apart in her chest, raw and desperate.

Then Nico’s mouth seals over her clit—warm, wet, perfect—her tongue pressing firm as she sucks, greedy and sure. Her jaw works against her, cheeks hollowing, tongue moving in tight, messy circles that make Will’s stomach seize. The sound of it is slick and obscene, Nico breathing hard through her nose like she can’t get close enough.

It hits Will like a strike of lightning. Her back arches off the bed, thighs shaking, the sound that rips from her throat raw and wrecked as pleasure crashes through her, hot and wild and all-consuming. She can see everything—Nico’s lips shining, her fingers digging into Will’s hips to hold her still, her tongue still working even as Will falls apart around her.

Everything goes hazy at the edges, the world narrowing to Nico’s mouth and the way her body shakes apart against it. Nico licks her through it, slow and deliberate, coaxing every last aftershock out of her until Will is nothing but trembling limbs and shuddering breath, wrecked and open against the sheets.

When Nico finally pulls back, Will blinks through the blur, her heartbeat still thundering in her ears. Nico crawls up the bed, heat rolling off her, pressing against Will’s shaking body like she can’t bear to be apart for even a second. Then she kisses her—wet and open, messy and soft, Nico’s mouth hot against hers.

Will can taste herself on Nico’s lips—slick and salty-sweet, warm in a way that feels filthy and dizzying all at once. It’s smeared over Nico’s mouth, clinging to the seam of her lips, and when Will presses their mouths together harder, the taste floods her tongue, sharp and heady. Nico tilts into it, greedy and soft all at once, kissing her like she wants Will to feel every trace of what she’s just done.

A quiet, broken sound slips out of Will, raw in her throat, and she fists a hand in Nico’s hair, holding her close, deepening the kiss until she’s gasping against Nico’s mouth—open, reckless, tasting salt and her own want smeared between them. It should be too much, she thinks—should overwhelm her, knock the sense out of her—but all it does is drag her deeper. She wants more; she’ll always want more. The mess of it—the heat, the salt, the pulse under Nico’s jaw—hums through her like a fever, until she aches everywhere she touches.

They collapse together in a tangle, knees knocking, legs sliding, Will straddling Nico’s lap, their skin flushed and slick with sweat. The warmth between their hips is wet, every shift sparking another bolt of heat up Will’s spine until her breath is nothing but shudders, the world stripped down to the press of bodies and the ragged rhythm of wanting. She thinks, briefly, that she could live in this air, this ache, forever.

Nico’s hands find her—sliding down, grip bruising on Will’s ass, dragging her closer, hips colliding, not searching for rhythm, just rutting, greedy and raw, like they could swallow each other whole. Every sound is low, wet, half-sob, half-prayer, something that lives under Will’s skin and pulls another gasp from her mouth. She grinds down again, rougher, and Nico’s thumbs dig into the soft curve of her, anchoring her there as if Will might burn through her palms. Will’s hand moves up—fingers spreading, hungry—curling around the swell of Nico’s breast, thumb flicking over a hard nipple just to hear Nico gasp, hips jerking up in some desperate, beautiful reflex.

“Gods, Will,” Nico breathes, voice rough and frayed, “I could do this all night. I never wanna stop touching you. I want to keep doing this with you forever.”

Will lets out a laugh, warm and breathless, the sound bubbling up from somewhere deep and a little giddy. She presses her nose against Nico’s cheek, grinning wide, still riding the edge of afterglow, their hips still tangled together, still moving in lazy, sticky drags that spark up every raw nerve. “You actually could, you know,” she pants, delight curling around the edges of every word. “Scientifically speaking, people with vaginas can have multiple orgasms. No refractory period. Just—reset and go again.”

 Nico’s hands tighten at Will’s hips, dragging her down, and the slow, wet grind that follows draws a sharp breath from both of them—pleasure stretching out, slow and almost unbearable.

“Honestly,” Will adds, grin widening against Nico’s mouth, “it’s kind of wild. Some people can orgasm three, four, even five times in a row.” She punctuates it with another roll of her hips, a little rougher this time.

Nico blinks up at her, dazed but suddenly sharpened by the prospect, a little wildness gleaming under the haze. “That’s real?” she whispers, voice rough, almost disbelieving. Then a shaky, breathless laugh slips out, cheeks flushed, hair wrecked against the pillow. Her fingers drift down Will’s back, lazy, almost reverent, and then squeeze at her ass, dragging her closer. “Gods. I want to try. I’m still so fucking horny.”

The words hang between them, heavy and electric, and Will feels heat coil low and fast in her stomach. She groans, hips twitching, the friction turning sweet and sharp all over again. Nico arches into her, a tremor running through her body, chasing after that promise of more.

A beat later, Nico makes a soft, mortified sound, throwing an arm over her face. “Gods, I can’t believe I just said that.”

Will laughs again, the sound raspier, more unruly now. She reaches down to tuck a damp curl behind Nico’s ear, fingers sliding over flushed, soft skin, never wanting to stop touching her. “No, that’s good,” she murmurs, her grin curving slow and wicked. She rocks down again, steady and deliberate, catching Nico’s gasp. “I like it when you tell me what you want. Promise. Don’t ever stop.”

Nico peeks up through her fingers, a shy, crooked smile curving her mouth, and something in Will twists—hot, needy, tender all at once. She leans in, voice dropping, thumb brushing slow and deliberate beneath the soft weight of Nico’s breast—a touch that lingers, that means more than she can say out loud. “Hey,” she murmurs, letting the quiet hang, thickening between them until it feels like something you could drown in, “if you wanna get off one more time…” Her lips curve into a grin, breath catching on the edge. “I had an idea.”

Nico’s eyebrows lift, a small, incredulous noise tumbling out, half laugh, half question. “Yeah? What kind of idea?”

Will’s hand slides lower, finding the heat of Nico’s thigh, fingertips tracing slow shapes into damp skin. There’s still sweat, still the flush high on Nico’s chest, the marks of everything they’ve just done glowing in the lamplight. Will’s smile widens, breath jagged, wanting in every nerve. “You said you never really get yourself off with your fingers,” she murmurs, her voice dipping, “but after tonight—maybe you’ll feel a little braver?”

Nico squirms, but she doesn’t pull away. Her hair’s a wild mess against the pillow, cheeks flushed, eyes dark with something sharp and bright. “Maybe,” she manages, voice a rough whisper, but there’s a spark in it—something new, something hungry.

Will leans in, so close she can feel Nico’s breath, the space between them humming. “If you want to try,” she says, words low, thick, “I’d—gods, I’d really love to watch you.” The confession lands between them, shaky and hot, daring and gentle all at once.

Nico groans, hides her face with her arm, but her other hand stays warm on Will’s hip. “You’re such a freak, Will.”

Will just laughs, easy and shameless, the sound spilling out with the warmth of someone who’s never wanted to be anywhere else. She reaches up and tilts Nico’s chin, coaxing her out from hiding, close enough that their breath mingles. “You’re my girlfriend,” she whispers, reverent and wicked all at once. “You’re beautiful, and I love you. Wouldn’t you want to see me touch myself?”

Nico goes still, a pause hanging—thick, electric—before her pupils swallow up the brown, her breath catching on a sound halfway between a gasp and a prayer. “Yeah,” she breathes, voice gone rough. “Gods, I would. I want to.”

Will shifts back, pressing into the cool wood of the headboard, her skin flushed, her heart beating wild and urgent. Her thighs fall open, no hesitation now, all of her burning under Nico’s gaze.

She drags her fingers through the mess, parting herself with the kind of practiced ease that should be smooth by now, but isn’t—not with Nico watching, not tonight. Her breath stutters, unsteady and sharp, because Nico’s gaze is fixed on her—wide-eyed, reverent, like she’s being touched without a hand ever landing. Every tiny shift feels heavier, charged, like she’s under a microscope and loving every second of it.

Will circles her clit, slow at first—slick, deliberate, giving Nico a show, but also grounding herself in the feeling. She lets her hips roll into her palm, picking up the pace, the wet sounds impossibly loud in the hush of the room. Each gasp she lets slip is intentional, for Nico’s benefit, but she can’t hide the nerves crackling underneath, the way heat makes her bones feel electric.

Her free hand slides up, shaky, cupping her breast, thumb grazing over her nipple until the sensation goes bright and sharp. She arches, a shiver slipping out, mouth falling open before she can stop herself. “Is this—what you like?” she whispers, voice frayed, trembling but thick with want. “Watching me like this?”

Nico nods, cheeks stained red, lips parted, breathing uneven. “Will, fuck—yeah, I want to. You’re so beautiful—” She breaks off, laughing shakily, then drags her own hand lower, hesitant at first, then bolder, fingers slipping between her thighs. The sound she makes—half gasp, half moan—makes Will’s stomach twist up tight and hot.

Will’s grin cracks, breathless and unsteady, her chest heaving. She lets her gaze drop, watching Nico’s fingers mirror her pace, clumsy and hungry. “Let me see you,” she manages, voice snagging, raw with awe. “Gods… please, I want to watch.”

Nico moans, the sound cracking, and spreads her legs wider, fingers slick and trembling as she finds her own rhythm. Their breaths tangle, their movements falling into the same rhythm—separate, but pulled tight together like a single pulse.

Will’s hand moves faster, slick and sure, but her moan splinters halfway through, rough and a little unsteady. The sound pushes Nico forward—her fingers tremble at first, hesitant—but the moment wet spreads beneath them, her hips jerk up, needy. She finds her clit, circling slow, trying to match Will’s pace. Her other hand reaches out blindly, finding Will’s thigh and gripping tight, nails biting into damp skin. “Oh gods—Will—it’s so much better with you watching…”

The words land low and hot in Will’s stomach. A sound tears out of her somewhere between a groan and a gasp, her body jolting as she fucks herself harder, heat curling dizzy and sharp in her belly. “You’re gorgeous,” she manages, the word breaking on her tongue. “Fuck—look at you… yeah. Just like that.”

Nico does, head tipping back, dark hair sticking to the flushed curve of her neck, eyes hazy and blown. Their moans tangle in the thick air—Will’s low and desperate, Nico’s higher, breathless—both of them caught on the sight of each other, stripped down to nothing but want.

Nico’s hand speeds up, movements shaky and hungry, her thumb brushing over the peaked skin as her hips jerk against her fingers. Her body arches, breath catching sharp as she tips closer. “Will, gods—please, don’t stop, I’m gonna—”

The sound of it unravels Will completely. Her vision blanks at the edges, heat snapping through her in a brutal rush. She cums with a sharp cry, the sound messy and raw as every muscle locks tight and shudders.

As the aftershocks roll through her, she forces her eyes open, her chest still heaving. Nico’s still touching herself, fingers moving in shaky, uneven strokes, her brow creased tight. Small, frantic noises spill from her—half-whimpers, half-gasps. “It’s—” Nico chokes out, hips jerking, “It’s not the same, Will, I can’t—” Her voice breaks, eyes snapping up to meet Will’s, wide and pleading, cheeks flushed deep, mouth parted like she’s seconds from begging.

Will’s heart twists, the feeling so sharp and exquisite she almost laughs. Her lips part on a shaky inhale, the sound nearly lost against the hush of the room, but Nico hears it—her breath stutters in response, hips faltering, a soft moan shaking loose as if Will’s voice alone could unravel her. Will leans in, letting the heat of her words curl in the small space between them, voice gone hoarse. “It’s okay, baby. Let me take care of you, yeah?”

Nico’s breath shudders out, hands knotting in the sheets, eyes gone wide and reckless. Will moves without thinking, sliding lower, her own body thrumming with nerves and want. She presses her mouth to the inside of Nico’s thigh, inhales the heat and salt there, the taste already dizzying. Then she’s there, tongue flattening over Nico’s clit in a long, aching drag, every movement careful but hungry, reverent and raw.

Nico’s head tips back, a ragged moan tearing from her, too honest to hide. The sound travels straight through Will—an ache, an answer, a promise—and she can’t help but smile, lips curled against trembling skin.

She licks again, slow and broad, then finds the rhythm that makes Nico tremble, tongue circling, flicking, adjusting with every twitch and shiver, every gasp that cracks open in the thick air. Will’s hands keep Nico steady—greedy, gentle—her mouth locked on like she could devour every last trace of doubt or fear. “Yeah,” she breathes against her, voice rough, adoring, lost. “Gods, you’re doing so good for me baby, so fucking good—”

Nico’s voice is a breaking thing, tangled in pleasure. “I need you,” she whimpers, hips arching, chasing Will’s mouth, desperate and undone. “Please—fuck—don’t stop—”

Will hums, low and intent, the vibration thrumming through every nerve in her body, pulling another shudder out of Nico, every muscle alive with it. She sucks, tongue moving slow, then faster, every stroke slicker, messier, closer. Her own thighs press together, breath stumbling, the ache building low and bright in her stomach, all of it—taste, heat, noise—more than enough to leave her trembling.

“Gods, Nico,” she whispers, her voice cracking around the words, her lips wet and her chest heaving. “You’re so close, I can feel it. Fuck, you’re—” she swallows hard, “—so fucking beautiful like this.”

Nico’s already shaking, legs thrown wide, her fingers knotted in Will’s hair like she’s anchoring herself to this moment, this edge. Her breath fractures, moaning, each sound a confession. “Will—fuck—I’m—”

Will flattens her tongue and flicks—precise, relentless, right at the tip, the kind of touch that burns all thought away, that leaves nowhere to go but over. She drags her tongue down, then up, tracing the full heat of Nico, building a slick, hungry rhythm, the wet sound filling the hush. She sucks gently as she flicks, tongue circling and tapping, refusing to let Nico drift, refusing her even a heartbeat of reprieve.

The sound that tears out of Nico is raw, a cry that seems to shudder up through the mattress. Her hips arch, body bowing, every line and muscle gone taut, her orgasm slamming through her so hard Will feels it in the tremor of her own hands. Still, Will doesn’t stop—she licks her through it, coaxing every aftershock, every shiver, drinking down each helpless, breathless sound.

Only when Nico collapses, boneless and spent, hand falling slack from Will’s hair, does Will slow. She kisses softly, lingering, her mouth hot against trembling thigh, letting herself taste every last echo of it. Her own pulse is pounding, skin feverish, hungry to the bone.

She trails kisses up Nico’s stomach, mouth slick and unsteady, nuzzling in close, as if she could crawl inside the heat between Nico’s ribs. She kisses every patch of skin she can reach—wet, reverent, mouth open, wanting—lingering at the rise of her ribs, the hollow of her throat, the soft spot just below her jaw. Nico hums, the sound fractured and content, one trembling hand in Will’s hair, anchoring her close as if neither of them will ever let go.

Will slides up until they’re eye to eye, close enough for foreheads to bump, their breaths overlapping in the little space left between them. Nico looks ruined and unspeakably lovely—cheeks flushed, lips bitten red, lashes clumped with tears. Something about it, the softness in her face after all that noise and want, hits Will in the chest, deep and unsteady.

She leans in, brushing their noses together, pressing a slow, sweet kiss to Nico’s mouth. It’s clumsy, gentle, the kind of kiss that’s more promise than pressure, all the urgency burned off and replaced by something slow, deliberate, heavy as a hand on her ribs. The world is small and quiet now, collapsed to the heat of skin and the slow, delicate slide of their mouths.

“I love you,” Will whispers, lips ghosting against Nico’s, the words slipping out unguarded—cracked, breathless, like something she’s been waiting to let go for a lifetime.

Nico’s breath stalls, her fingers curling tight in Will’s hair. For a moment she just looks—eyes wide, dazed, pink with afterglow and awe—then a laugh bubbles up, soft and stunned and dizzy. “I love you too,” she breathes back, the words rough and edged, voice trembling.

A shaky, helpless laugh spills out of Will, and she kisses her again, slow, unhurried, giddy. When she finally props herself up, she feels boneless, her limbs gone weightless and her skin still buzzing. She drags one last kiss to Nico’s temple, lingers there a moment longer.

“Come on,” she murmurs, her voice gone rough and honey-warm. “We should get cleaned up before we fuse with the sheets.”

Nico groans, but lets Will pull her up. They stumble toward the bathroom, still tangled, still laughing under their breath, the warmth following them across the tile. Will flicks the shower on, waiting for steam to rise and wrap around them, her hand reaching for Nico’s battered old hairbrush on instinct.

“Come here, trouble,” Will teases, catching Nico by the hips and spinning her gently so she’s facing away. Nico rolls her eyes, but the smile tugging at her mouth is unmistakable, that soft afterglow blooming beneath her skin. Will picks up the brush, running her thumb over the battered handle before lifting it to Nico’s hair—a wild tangle of curls, haloed and chaotic.

She works slowly, pulling the bristles through with careful, practiced strokes, pausing every time Nico shivers at the drag or tips her head back with a lazy sigh. Each knot is its own small act of penance and affection, Will’s patience threaded through every pass. “Gods, I made a mess of you,” she murmurs, half smug, half sheepish, voice low against the steam.

Nico makes a soft, wordless sound, cheeks blooming pink, but she lets her head loll, inviting Will’s care. “You like me a mess,” she mumbles, voice gone warm and heavy with sleepiness. Will grins, unable to help herself, and leans in to press a kiss to Nico’s bare shoulder, lips lingering on damp skin, tasting the salt of sweat and steam.

When the water finally runs hot, they step in together, crowded under the spray, bodies flush. Steam coils around them, trailing down the slopes of collarbones, winding between thighs, fogging the glass. Will reaches for the soap, works up a thick lather, and starts at Nico’s shoulders, her hands slow and sure—circling down her back, then around to the front, palms skimming over slick skin.

Her hands are everywhere—kneading, massaging, sliding soap over Nico’s breasts, lingering in every warm hollow, every soft swell. She cups Nico’s chest, thumbs circling slow over her nipples until they pebble under her palms, then lets her hands drift lower, cupping the curve of her ass and squeezing, greedy for every part of her. The contrast—firm muscle yielding under her grip, soft skin slick beneath her fingers—pulls a low, broken sound from Will’s throat. “Gods,” she murmurs, voice raw and half-lost in the steam, lips skimming Nico’s ear. “You have no idea what you do to me.”

Nico’s breath stutters, her eyes heavy-lidded as she melts back against Will, letting the water and the heat wrap around them. “You’re the one who’s gorgeous,” she manages, her own voice gone rough, hands skating up Will’s hips, sliding over her stomach, tracing the curve of her breasts in slow, reverent passes.

They trade touches like they’re learning a language neither of them has quite mastered, hands slipping over slick skin, memorising each other by feel. They rinse, or pretend to, but it’s hopeless—every movement just another excuse to linger, to drag hands through the heat and mess, to keep from breaking the spell of this closeness. Every slide of thigh against thigh, every slow grind of their bodies, ratchets the heat up tighter, pulls them closer.

Will keeps pretending she’s focused on the water, fingers combing soap out of Nico’s hair, but her hands never really stop. They slide down, retrace the paths they’ve already mapped—cupping her breasts, gliding over wet skin, down the elegant line of her spine, nails grazing the dip of her back, squeezing at her hips with the kind of hunger that feels both greedy and impossibly soft.

Nico shivers, pressing into her touch, and Will swallows hard, pressing her mouth to the place where Nico’s neck meets her shoulder, breathing her in. The steam hangs heavy, clinging to skin, turning every breath thick, every sound sharper.

There’s no plan in it. Will’s hand just drifts lower, as if drawn by gravity and want. Nico’s clit is still swollen, flushed and so soft beneath her fingertips, and the first brush makes Nico jolt, a sharp, broken sound escaping her. Will does it again, slower, and Nico shudders, hips rolling forward, offering herself up without hesitation or shame.

Will pushes two fingers in, slow and deep, the slick heat pulling her in like a secret. Nico clenches around her, tight and urgent, and when Will withdraws just to press in again, the grip only tightens, a needy whimper rising from Nico’s throat.

Will presses open-mouthed kisses along Nico’s neck, tasting salt and heat, the tremor of it all running through her jaw and chest. She isn’t trying to get her off, not really, not yet—she just can’t stop touching, can’t stop sliding her fingers in and out, slow and greedy, like she wants to keep her full forever.

Her thumb circles over Nico’s clit, lazy and thoughtless, just enough to make her twitch and gasp, head tipping back onto Will’s shoulder, thighs clamping tighter with every thrust. The sound is thick—wet and slick, tangled up with the hiss of water and the low, broken music of their breathing—until the whole world feels like it’s pressed in close, nothing left but skin and heat and the taste of her in the steam.

Nico is still wrecked from earlier, her whole body still trembling from the last orgasm, nerves left raw and exposed. Every touch now is almost too much—her hips buck with every pass of Will’s thumb, a sharp, breathless noise breaking from her lips like she’s shocked by her own sensitivity. “Will—gods—wait—” The words spill out, choked and desperate, her voice breaking around the edges.

Will gentles her hand, letting her mouth hover near Nico’s ear, voice rough but soft at the edges. “Is it too much? Do you want me to stop?” she murmurs, feeling the frantic pulse under Nico’s skin, her own heart skipping in time.

Nico shakes her head frantically, eyes shut tight, cheeks burning. “No—don’t stop—please—just—” Her breath catches again, every sound thinner, more helpless. “Please, Will—”

That’s all Will needs, hunger flaring, love and pride threaded thick through her voice. Her arm cinches tight around Nico’s waist, grounding her as she unravels. “Okay, baby,” she breathes, low and trembling, “I’ve got you. Just let go—”

Nico comes apart almost instantly, her whole body jerking, another cry breaking from her chest—higher, sharper than before, her nerves stretched to breaking. Will holds her steady as she shakes, knees threatening to give, mouth pressed to Nico’s neck, murmuring over and over, “That’s it. That’s my girl. Just breathe. I’ve got you. I’ve got you…”

Eventually, the water rinses the last of the soap away, but neither of them really lets go. They stay tangled together, kisses gone slow and unhurried, clean skin pressed close — content, sated, and completely unwilling to stop touching.

When the water finally starts to cool, Will reaches behind Nico and twists the tap off. “Alright,” she murmurs, voice still husky with warmth, “before we drown.”

Nico’s laugh comes out small and wrecked, half buried against Will’s shoulder. “You’d save me,” she mumbles, drowsy and smug. “You’re the medic.”

Will huffs a laugh, brushing her lips over Nico’s temple. “Not the point, sweetheart.”

They step out into the steam-fogged bathroom, water running down their legs in silver trails. Will grabs two towels, tossing one over Nico’s head before wrapping the other around her own shoulders. Nico yelps, muffled under terrycloth, and flails weakly.

“Hey!” she protests, voice faint and indignant from under the towel.

Will grins, rubbing at her hair until it’s a hopeless tangle of curls. “You’re fine.”

“Pretty sure you’re not supposed to assault your patients,” Nico mutters, tugging the towel down enough to glare at her.

“Only the cute ones,” Will says easily, leaning in to kiss her forehead. Nico rolls her eyes, but the corner of her mouth twitches.

They dry off in the mirror’s half-fogged reflection, movements slow, tender, domestic in a way that makes Will’s chest ache. The air smells of soap and skin, humid and heavy; the glass is still dripping, the light soft and golden through the haze.

By the time Will’s finished towelling her own hair, Nico’s leaning against the counter, towel wrapped loosely around her, eyes half-lidded and soft. Will passes her her toothbrush without a word. Nico takes it, squinting at her through the steam.

“You’re bossy,” she mutters, but she’s already brushing.

“Professional hazard,” Will replies around her own toothbrush, foam threatening to spill as she talks. “Doctors love giving orders.”

“Yeah, I’ve noticed,” Nico says, spitting neatly into the sink before glancing up at her reflection. “It’s weirdly hot.”

Will snorts toothpaste foam and nearly chokes. “Don’t— talk— when I’m—” she manages between laughs, wiping her mouth on the back of her hand. Nico grins, satisfied.

They rinse, bumping elbows in the small space, and wander barefoot into the main cabin, the air outside the bathroom cooler against their damp skin. Steam still clings to them, curling around their shoulders, leaving faint watermarks on the wooden floor.

Will digs through the pile of clothes at the end of the bed, tossing Nico an oversized shirt — soft from a hundred washes, hanging loose enough to cover her thighs. Nico catches it one-handed, smiling that small, crooked smile that always knocks something out of Will’s lungs.

Nico pulls the shirt on, the fabric sticking slightly to damp skin, and Will takes a moment just to look — at the way the cotton clings to her ribs, the hem brushing her bare legs. Then she drags her own pyjama shorts up her hips, tugging on a worn tank top that smells faintly of laundry powder and summer heat.

“Come here,” she murmurs, holding her arms out.

Nico doesn’t need to be told twice. She crosses the small space between them, slips into Will’s arms like she’s meant to live there. They crawl under the duvet together, the sheets cool against skin that’s still too warm, the air thick with the quiet hum of exhaustion and something softer.

For a while, it’s easy — their bodies fitting into the familiar shape they always fall into, legs tangled, foreheads brushing. Will’s heartbeat is slow, steady, her fingers tracing idle patterns against Nico’s back. But after a minute or two, she feels it — the subtle shift in Nico’s body, the way her breathing changes, shoulders tensing almost imperceptibly beneath her hand.

“Hey,” Will whispers, barely breaking the silence. Her thumb rubs a small circle between Nico’s shoulder blades. “Nico, you okay?”

Nico goes still, then exhales a long, careful breath. “Yeah,” she says, quiet but steady. “I’m fine.”

Will hesitates, the words catching on her tongue before she can swallow them down. “You don’t…” She clears her throat, softer now. “You don’t regret it, do you?”

It comes out small, smaller than she meant — raw in the way things are when they actually matter. She doesn’t look at Nico right away, afraid she’ll see something she can’t unsee. The silence that follows stretches thin and trembling.

Then Nico moves. She shifts onto her side, propping herself up just enough to look at Will properly. Her eyes are wide, wet in the low light, panic flickering across her face. “No,” she says quickly, shaking her head. “No, no, not at all.” She reaches out, cupping Will’s jaw with both hands like she can anchor the truth there. “I’m glad we did. I’m glad it was you.”

Will’s breath catches — the tension in her chest breaking all at once. She lets out a shaky laugh that’s half relief, half disbelief, brushing her thumb along Nico’s cheekbone. “Okay,” she murmurs, her voice still frayed around the edges. “Good. Just—good.”

But even as she says it, she can feel something else humming under Nico’s skin — something that hasn’t quite settled. The way her eyes dart away a second too soon, the slight tremor in her hands where they rest against Will’s ribs.

Will presses a kiss to her forehead, slow and careful. “Okay,” she says again, quieter this time, her voice somewhere between a question and a promise. “But something’s still off. I can tell.”

Nico hesitates, eyes flicking up before sliding away again. “It’s nothing,” she says, though her voice gives her away. “I just… feel weird.”

Will hums softly, brushing her thumb along the line of Nico’s jaw. “Weird how?”

Nico exhales through her nose, the sound shaky and uncertain. “Like I can’t believe I just—said all that. Did all that.” A small, humourless laugh slips out of her, catching halfway. “I didn’t even know I could want something that much. And now it’s over, and I just—” she presses a hand against her chest, fingers twitching over her sternum, “—feel exposed, I guess. Like I showed you too much of me, all at once.”

Will stays quiet for a moment, her pulse steady but loud in her ears. Then she tucks a damp strand of hair behind Nico’s ear, her voice soft but certain. “That’s normal, baby. Your head’s just catching up with your body.”

Nico frowns faintly, not defensive—just confused. Will gives her a small, wry smile. “During sex, your brain floods itself with dopamine and oxytocin. It’s this massive chemical high—heart racing, skin hypersensitive, everything bright. Then it drops, all at once. That crash makes people second-guess themselves, like they did something wrong.”

Nico groans, mortified and fond all at once. “Gods, that’s such a you thing to say.” She rolls her eyes, but the corners of her mouth twitch up, that shy, crooked smile breaking through.

Will laughs quietly, then leans in to kiss her cheek. “Maybe,” she says, her voice low, almost a whisper against Nico’s skin. “But it’s true. You don’t have anything to be embarrassed about.” Her tone shifts—softer, warmer, carrying the faintest tremor. “I liked that you wanted me. Every part of it. And I want you the same way.”

Nico’s eyes lift, hesitant but open. “Really?”

“Really,” Will murmurs, pressing her lips to Nico’s temple and lingering there until she feels her breathing even out. “You don’t have to hold back anymore. You can want this. You can want me.”

Something in Nico loosens at that—barely visible, but real. Her breath leaves her in a soft exhale, her fingers curling lightly against Will’s chest, tracing the steady rise and fall beneath her palm. She shifts closer until her forehead rests under Will’s chin, skin still warm from the shower, the duvet a soft cocoon around them.

Will presses a kiss into her hair, lingering there. “Does that… help?” she murmurs, unsure, her voice low and careful.

Nico nods against her, slow at first. “Yeah,” she says quietly. Then, after a beat, her voice drops even softer. “Yeah, a lot.”

Will hums, the sound small and tender, thumb tracing idle circles against Nico’s shoulder. She feels the tension start to ebb, replaced by something gentler.

Then Nico lets out a nervous laugh, quiet and a little shaky, like she’s startled by her own honesty. “Gods,” she says, hiding her face against Will’s neck. “I want to do that again. And again. I didn’t know it could feel like that—like my whole body just…” She exhales, half a laugh, half a sigh. “I didn’t know it could feel that good. Or that I could love you more after. But I do.”

Will’s heart stumbles. She tilts Nico’s chin up, brushing her thumb along the curve of her jaw, feeling the faint tremor in her smile. “You do?” she whispers, breath catching a little.

“I do,” Nico says, quiet but certain, the words slipping out on a sigh. Her eyes flicker over Will’s face, lingering there like she’s trying to memorise every line. A shy laugh catches in her throat, colour blooming high on her cheeks. “You looked so pretty. And you sounded even prettier—like that—for me. Gods, Will, you have no idea what you do to me, it was better than I ever thought it could be.”

The words hit low in Will’s stomach, heat curling there before she can think. Her laugh comes out shaky, almost incredulous. “Oh yeah?” she murmurs, voice rough with the effort of keeping it light. “Good. Because I’ve got plenty of ideas for next time.”

Nico lets out a low laugh, somewhere between teasing and turned on. “Yeah, I’ll bet you do.” She tips her head back on the pillow, grin lazy, eyes glinting. “You’ve probably been coming up with them for months—what was it, all those long showers you took, thinking about me?”

Will makes a strangled sound, half laugh, half protest, heat rushing up her neck. “Oh my gods—Nico.”

“What?” Nico’s smile widens, smug but soft. “Just saying. You did always look very clean for someone who spends all day patching up sweaty campers.”

Will groans and drops her face against Nico’s shoulder, laughter caught somewhere in her throat. “You’re impossible.”

“I’m right,” Nico murmurs, voice catching a little when Will’s laughter ghosts warm against her skin.

Will hums, lifting her head just enough to meet her gaze again. “Maybe,” she says, mock-solemn. Then her grin curves, lazy and fond. “But can you blame me? I’ve got a ridiculously hot girlfriend.”

Nico snorts, eyes half-lidded, amusement tugging at her mouth. “Oh, interesting,” she murmurs, voice soft and teasing. “Bet she’s not as hot as mine.”

Will laughs, the sound quiet and rough around the edges. “Doubt it,” she whispers, but Nico’s already pulling her in. The kiss starts as a smile — warm and drowsy — then deepens, slower, softer, until it’s just breath and shared heat. They sink together under the duvet, legs tangled, the world narrowing to the steady rhythm of mouths meeting and parting, to the faint hum of crickets outside and the soft, sleepy sigh that slips from Nico’s throat when Will’s fingers find the back of her neck.

Nico breaks the kiss with a soft hum that melts into a yawn, slow and unguarded, her hand coming up too late to hide it. Will feels the sound more than she hears it — the small exhale against her skin, the way Nico’s body goes heavy and boneless in her arms.

“Mm,” Will murmurs, smiling into her hair. “That sounded suspiciously like someone who’s about to fall asleep on me.”

“I’m not,” Nico mumbles, blinking stubbornly, her lashes brushing Will’s collarbone. “I’m awake.”

“Sure you are.” Will presses a lazy kiss to her temple, the corner of her mouth twitching. “It’s okay, baby. Go to sleep. We’ve had a very—” she pauses, grinning against her skin, “—active night.”

Nico groans into her chest, voice muffled. “Gods, don’t say it like that.”

“Like what?” Will says, all feigned innocence. “Factually?”

“Smugly,” Nico mutters, swatting at her half-heartedly.

Will laughs under her breath, the sound soft and wrecked with affection. She smooths a hand through Nico’s damp hair, gentle circles against her scalp. “You’re cute when you’re embarrassed, you know that?”

Nico grumbles something unintelligible that sounds vaguely like a curse. Then, quieter, almost swallowed by the sheets: “Fine. But I’m not sleeping because you told me to. I’m just… conserving energy.”

Will’s smile curves slow, amusement flickering through the warmth. “Oh yeah?” she murmurs. “For what exactly?”

Nico shifts, voice already thick with sleep, but the words still manage to land, half mumbled, half smug. “So I’m rested enough to get you off again in the morning.”

Will half-chokes, half-laughs, the sound breaking somewhere between a gasp and a groan. “Gods, Nico,” she manages, her voice low and wrecked with disbelief. “You can’t just say things like that—you’ll get me all worked up again.”

Nico hums against her collarbone, smug and sleepy all at once. “Good,” she murmurs, her tone lazy and smug all at once. She shifts closer, tucking her head beneath Will’s chin, curling into her like she’s found the perfect spot. Her breath ghosts hot over Will’s skin as she adds, softer now, the words slipping between them like a secret: “Maybe that’s the point.”

Will’s breath stalls, nerves flaring electric as Nico leans in, her lips brushing the shell of Will’s ear. She can feel the tremor in Nico’s voice—still new to this, still learning—but there’s a raw, breathless confidence threading through the words now, like she’s steadying herself on the sound.

“I like how you feel around my fingers,” Nico whispers, quiet but deliberate, the syllables landing soft and hot against Will’s skin. “And I like—” her voice wavers, but she goes on, bolder now— “I like when you pull my hair, when I’m… when I’m eating you out.” Will shivers, a full-body ripple she can’t hide, the heat of it sparking low in her belly, dragging goosebumps up her arms. “You get so loud for me,” Nico breathes, half-laughing, flushed and shy and radiant in the lamplight. “I didn’t know I could make you sound like that.”

Will’s whole body goes tight, stunned and grateful and dizzy, her hand sliding instinctively to Nico’s waist just to anchor herself. She can only manage a shaky laugh, a low, helpless sound. Nico buries her face in Will’s neck, smug and bashful, the words still ringing in the hush between them—impossible to forget, already working their way under Will’s skin.

A quiet hum escapes her, small and satisfied. “Ha,” she mumbles, voice muffled against Will’s throat. “You’re thinking about it.”

Will huffs out a laugh, breath catching somewhere in her chest. “Gods, of course I’m thinking about it,” she says, voice still unsteady. “At this rate, I’ll be dreaming about it.”

Nico shifts just enough to look up at her, eyes heavy-lidded, mouth curved in a sleepy, crooked smile. “Bet you’re always dreaming about it,” she whispers, smug in that half-conscious, half-angelic way that should not be allowed to exist.

Will groans softly, dropping her head back against the pillow. “Aren’t you supposed to be tired?”

“I am,” Nico says around a yawn, entirely unapologetic. She presses closer, curling into Will’s chest until her breath warms the hollow of her throat. “Gods you’re so warm. I always forget how warm you are.”

Will laughs again, quieter this time, the sound softening into something that feels like a heartbeat. She tilts her chin down, brushing her lips across Nico’s temple. “Go to sleep, baby,” she murmurs, voice gentle but a little wrecked. “I’ll still be here in the morning.”

Nico hums, the sound barely there. “I love you,” she mumbles, half-asleep already, voice soft and frayed, like it slips straight out of her dreams.

It hits Will like a shock beneath the ribs—hot, clean, alive. For a moment she forgets how to breathe. Then she exhales, shaky, a laugh catching somewhere in her chest as she presses her lips to Nico’s temple, tasting the faint salt of her skin. “I love you too,” she whispers, the words trembling as they leave her.

Nico shifts, a small, unconscious movement, and curls in closer until they fit perfectly again—her leg hooked over Will’s hip, her palm splayed across Will’s ribs like she’s holding her there. Her breathing steadies, slow and even, the quiet weight of it warming the hollow of Will’s throat. The air between them hums with leftover heat, the scent of soap and skin and the faint metallic tang of candle smoke still clinging to the sheets.

Will doesn’t move. She just watches her. The soft flush still high on Nico’s cheeks, the damp curls sticking to her forehead, the raw, pink edges of her lips. There’s a faint bruise on her jaw where Will’s mouth had lingered too long, and seeing it makes something in her chest twist with a kind of reverent guilt. The intimacy of it all feels sacred—like the quiet after prayer, like every nerve has been rewired to know only this.

She brushes a thumb along the slope of Nico’s nose, tracing the faint pulse beneath her jaw, the small tremor that still hasn’t quite left her body. The warmth between them hums steady, heavier now, settled deep in the bones. Will’s never known anything like it—the strange, electric calm that comes after loving someone completely. 

The tenderness sharpens until it hurts. She knows she’d do anything for this girl—anything. The thought lands easy, solid, like it’s always been there waiting for her. If anyone ever tried to take Nico from her, they’d have to pry her from Will’s cold, dead hands. It isn’t rage. It’s devotion—fierce, simple, absolute.

Will leans down, kissing the corner of Nico’s mouth, her temple, the soft space beneath her ear. She breathes her in—heat and sleep and safety—and feels her chest ache with how much she loves her. “I’ve got you,” she murmurs, her voice barely sound. “Always.”

Outside, the night is still. Inside, it’s just the two of them—tangled limbs, shared breath, the steady thrum of hearts finding the same rhythm. Will holds her tighter, skin to skin, until the weight of love settles her too, slow and quiet, into sleep.