Just as I was starting to get used to the dreams, or at least beginning to appreciate the strange comfort of actually seeing Nico on an almost-nightly basis, I had one of the most intense ones yet. I felt like I was practically standing in the coffin, although I knew that my presence was just anchored several feet above it. Nico was there, lying alongside the silk linings of the casket's inner walls, half-draped across the corpse. Something was wrong about the scene, however, and it took me a second to realize what was different. The body beneath Nico—male, this time, I noticed with a slight swooping feeling in my gut—was face down in the coffin, which struck me as odd: It suggested something less than Nico's usual reverential, respectful treatment of the dead.The boy's hair was dark, like Nico's own, but close-cropped, and Nico's frame was smaller by far. The boy looked about my age, from what I could tell, and he had several inches and about twenty pounds of slowly decaying muscle on Nico. His khaki dress pants were pushed down around his knees, Nico's black ones almost to his ankles. I watched as Nico straddled the boy's thighs, his knees pushed tight against the sides of the coffin, his hands pressed into the curve of the boy's spine. He repositioned himself, sliding down a few inches until he was lined up. When he had forced the boy's asscheeks apart and touched the head of his cock to the unresponsive muscle of its hole, Nico paused, sucking in air, his lower lip clamped between his teeth like it was costing him more than he could give to restrain himself.He lowered himself fully onto his elbows, his body flush against the corpse, and as he did so, he looked at me. And I mean he purposefully turned his head and looked up at me; and at that moment I was certain he knew I was there—maybe he had known I'd been there for weeks now. I still didn't know what he was actually seeing or what I was projecting, but he held my gaze for what felt like hours, although it was probably only a few seconds. His eyes were darker than normal, his irises distended and his pupils blown wide with lust, but I couldn't quite discern the desire I saw within them. The moment was soon broken, however, as he thrust his hips forward in one long movement, his eyelids fluttering shut and his head falling back against his arched spine. There was no sound other than his breathy exhale, and it sounded too loud in the darkness, almost obscene. When his cock was fully buried, he paused again, adjusting to the sensation. The boy had been dead for a short enough time that the rigor mortis hadn't yet begun to fade, and the muscles were still tight, contracted, which meant a more intense satisfaction for Nico than he could get with anyone living, without the work and without the wait. Nico took a few more sharp breaths and immediately began to move, thrusting his hips furiously, pounding his cock into the corpse with fevered intensity. I could tell it was rough—all instant gratification and carnal desire and an emotional connection that had nothing to do with the dead, or with the boy Nico knew this body once hosted. It surprised me, because I had never seen Nico like this before. The coffin rocked back and forth in the dirt, and Nico's breathing became ragged, harsh, as he tangled his fingers into the boy's hair and picked up his pace, close to climax now.Nico's thrusts became more and more desperate, and he sagged against the body beneath him as strength left his limbs. His forehead was resting against the boy's back, right between its shoulder blades, Nico's lips moving continuously against its clammy, preserved skin. His voice was stifled, but I could tell that he was definitely speaking, just one word over and over and over again like an incantation, like an exorcism.Finally, his whole body stilled as he came, his mouth closed tightly against the exclamation threatening to erupt from his throat; but what made it past his lips was clearly a ragged sob, and it echoed against the wood and the walls of dirt on either side of him, and I swear I felt it in my bones.As Nico came down from his orgasm, still muttering nonsensically, resting heavily against the cold skin of the corpse, I was able to make out a single word before I woke up, shivering and shaking in my bed: A word that sounded remarkably like "Percy."I don't remember much of the next month; at least, the days all blurred together and all I can really recall is snippet after snippet of dream and flashes of time at Goode, bordered by a hazy frame of anxiety and exhaustion and the lingering feeling of my body stretched to breaking point—my nerves on end and my libido on pins and needles, hyper-sensitive but thin-skinned, not strong enough to handle the influx of activity I was forcing upon it. Hearing Nico say my name was my undoing; with one word he stripped me down to the bone and forced me to see this for what it really was, forced me to acknowledge my feelings without shame, forced me to entertain the thought that maybe, just maybe, I wasn't the only one hung up on all of this. As crazy as that made me, it also helped. It was the first glimpse of a light at the end of the tunnel, something to look towards, something to ground me in the clandestine chaos my life had recently become. I did eventually settle into a routine, but by the time exams came around, I felt almost relieved to have something else to think about.Although I really, really should have called in sick on my last day of finals. Instead, I spent my first day of Christmas vacation in Hades with Nico and Thalia, and wasn't that just an awesome way to break up the monotony. Given the circumstances, retaining control of my basic motor functions and some ability to form words was easier to do than I would have thought. Our quest was really pretty quickly paced, and I was semi-conscious for a good part of it, and so before I knew it, I was saying goodbye to Nico on a balcony in Hades' mansion. Thalia kept me occupied for the rest of the day, regaling me with stories about the Hunt and her new life as Artemis's first Lieutenant over burgers and fries. We parted amicably that evening, and I headed back to my apartment, eager to let my parents know that I was okay. I didn't realize that anything would be different until I woke up the next morning, relaxed and well-rested for probably the first time in months. As I lounged in my bed and reveled in a full night's sleep, I suddenly understood what had changed.Nico was staying in the Underworld, not a corporeal body in sight, and the dreams had finally stopped.Be that as it may, my state of mind didn't improve much. When I say the dreams had stopped, I don't mean that I had stopped dreaming; my luck wasn't going to turn that quickly. The dreams I were having now might not have been prophetic, but they were just as intense, and they were still about him. Nothing changed when I returned to Camp Half-Blood for winter break. If anything, it was worse after seeing Nico at Christmas, after being around him and talking to him and not being able to do anything about this thing between us. I was still obsessing, and I had no idea how I was going to get over it. I felt like I was going insane. The other campers started to notice that something was wrong. I was jumpy around my friends, snapping out of my fantasies and looking back at them guiltily whenever they addressed me. I had dark circles under my eyes and they must have known I wasn't sleeping well. Beckendorf gave me concerned glances and Annabeth long, hard stares, but luckily no one asked me about it, because I had no idea what I would have said. I was able to pass off my silence and exhaustion as anxiety about the war, worry about the prophecy and what it meant. As everyone was pretty stressed out themselves, no one looked into it any further. I started spending more time alone, tucked away in the Poseidon cabin or wandering aimlessly through the woods. (I had tried secluding myself in the stables, too, but the Pegasi sensed my anxiety and were jittery around me, whinnying and apologizing sheepishly for backing away into their stalls, trying to keep away from the aura of death they said I now had around me). The last days of break were spent mostly in the Big House, as myself, Annabeth, Chiron, and the other counselors began to piece together a plan for attacking the Princess Andromeda. We had decided it would be best if we didn't all scatter and return to our schools, so most of us stayed at Half-Blood Hill. As lonely as it was at camp, being the middle of winter and with many of the other kids often gone on quests, I was kind of glad I didn't have to go home. It was hard to hide from my mom and Paul that I would often wake in the middle of the night and sit down for breakfast exhausted, and that my mind was elsewhere, completely preoccupied. My mom knew about the war, of course, but she had a way of knowing when I was hiding something, so my excuses wouldn't work on her for long. It hurt me to lie to her, even if I couldn't possibly tell her the truth; if I was at camp, there'd be no need for any such excuses. And, let's be honest, it was much harder to jerk off as much as I wanted to with that kind of supervision than it was in an empty cabin with hardly any adults around.The dreams still bothered me, because they still seemed real. I didn't know if it was because they'd been prophetic for so long that I knew what it was like to have Nico really there, or if all half-blood dreams were just that extra-sensory. Either way, it was hard to accept that they were now just dreams.Because I knew Nico: I knew the angles of his body, the jut of his bones, the softness of his skin. I knew what he felt like, I knew how he tasted. I knew his kiss, the way he'd suck my lower lip into his mouth and worry it with his teeth, the way he would lick into my mouth forcefully, never questioning his welcome. I knew the way his fingertips would dr
Just as I was starting to get used to the dreams, or at least beginning to appreciate the strange comfort of actually seeing Nico on an almost-nightly basis, I had one of the most intense ones yet. I felt like I was practically standing in the coffin, although I knew that my presence was just anchored several feet above it. Nico was there, lying alongside the silk linings of the casket's inner walls, half-draped across the corpse. Something was wrong about the scene, however, and it took me a second to realize what was different. The body beneath Nico—male, this time, I noticed with a slight swooping feeling in my gut—was face down in the coffin, which struck me as odd: It suggested something less than Nico's usual reverential, respectful treatment of the dead.The boy's hair was dark, like Nico's own, but close-cropped, and Nico's frame was smaller by far. The boy looked about my age, from what I could tell, and he had several inches and about twenty pounds of slowly decaying muscle on Nico. His khaki dress pants were pushed down around his knees, Nico's black ones almost to his ankles. I watched as Nico straddled the boy's thighs, his knees pushed tight against the sides of the coffin, his hands pressed into the curve of the boy's spine. He repositioned himself, sliding down a few inches until he was lined up. When he had forced the boy's asscheeks apart and touched the head of his cock to the unresponsive muscle of its hole, Nico paused, sucking in air, his lower lip clamped between his teeth like it was costing him more than he could give to restrain himself.He lowered himself fully onto his elbows, his body flush against the corpse, and as he did so, he looked at me. And I mean he purposefully turned his head and looked up at me; and at that moment I was certain he knew I was there—maybe he had known I'd been there for weeks now. I still didn't know what he was actually seeing or what I was projecting, but he held my gaze for what felt like hours, although it was probably only a few seconds. His eyes were darker than normal, his irises distended and his pupils blown wide with lust, but I couldn't quite discern the desire I saw within them. The moment was soon broken, however, as he thrust his hips forward in one long movement, his eyelids fluttering shut and his head falling back against his arched spine. There was no sound other than his breathy exhale, and it sounded too loud in the darkness, almost obscene. When his cock was fully buried, he paused again, adjusting to the sensation. The boy had been dead for a short enough time that the rigor mortis hadn't yet begun to fade, and the muscles were still tight, contracted, which meant a more intense satisfaction for Nico than he could get with anyone living, without the work and without the wait. Nico took a few more sharp breaths and immediately began to move, thrusting his hips furiously, pounding his cock into the corpse with fevered intensity. I could tell it was rough—all instant gratification and carnal desire and an emotional connection that had nothing to do with the dead, or with the boy Nico knew this body once hosted. It surprised me, because I had never seen Nico like this before. The coffin rocked back and forth in the dirt, and Nico's breathing became ragged, harsh, as he tangled his fingers into the boy's hair and picked up his pace, close to climax now.Nico's thrusts became more and more desperate, and he sagged against the body beneath him as strength left his limbs. His forehead was resting against the boy's back, right between its shoulder blades, Nico's lips moving continuously against its clammy, preserved skin. His voice was stifled, but I could tell that he was definitely speaking, just one word over and over and over again like an incantation, like an exorcism.Finally, his whole body stilled as he came, his mouth closed tightly against the exclamation threatening to erupt from his throat; but what made it past his lips was clearly a ragged sob, and it echoed against the wood and the walls of dirt on either side of him, and I swear I felt it in my bones.As Nico came down from his orgasm, still muttering nonsensically, resting heavily against the cold skin of the corpse, I was able to make out a single word before I woke up, shivering and shaking in my bed: A word that sounded remarkably like "Percy."I don't remember much of the next month; at least, the days all blurred together and all I can really recall is snippet after snippet of dream and flashes of time at Goode, bordered by a hazy frame of anxiety and exhaustion and the lingering feeling of my body stretched to breaking point—my nerves on end and my libido on pins and needles, hyper-sensitive but thin-skinned, not strong enough to handle the influx of activity I was forcing upon it. Hearing Nico say my name was my undoing; with one word he stripped me down to the bone and forced me to see this for what it really was, forced me to acknowledge my feelings without shame, forced me to entertain the thought that maybe, just maybe, I wasn't the only one hung up on all of this. As crazy as that made me, it also helped. It was the first glimpse of a light at the end of the tunnel, something to look towards, something to ground me in the clandestine chaos my life had recently become. I did eventually settle into a routine, but by the time exams came around, I felt almost relieved to have something else to think about.Although I really, really should have called in sick on my last day of finals. Instead, I spent my first day of Christmas vacation in Hades with Nico and Thalia, and wasn't that just an awesome way to break up the monotony. Given the circumstances, retaining control of my basic motor functions and some ability to form words was easier to do than I would have thought. Our quest was really pretty quickly paced, and I was semi-conscious for a good part of it, and so before I knew it, I was saying goodbye to Nico on a balcony in Hades' mansion. Thalia kept me occupied for the rest of the day, regaling me with stories about the Hunt and her new life as Artemis's first Lieutenant over burgers and fries. We parted amicably that evening, and I headed back to my apartment, eager to let my parents know that I was okay. I didn't realize that anything would be different until I woke up the next morning, relaxed and well-rested for probably the first time in months. As I lounged in my bed and reveled in a full night's sleep, I suddenly understood what had changed.Nico was staying in the Underworld, not a corporeal body in sight, and the dreams had finally stopped.Be that as it may, my state of mind didn't improve much. When I say the dreams had stopped, I don't mean that I had stopped dreaming; my luck wasn't going to turn that quickly. The dreams I were having now might not have been prophetic, but they were just as intense, and they were still about him. Nothing changed when I returned to Camp Half-Blood for winter break. If anything, it was worse after seeing Nico at Christmas, after being around him and talking to him and not being able to do anything about this thing between us. I was still obsessing, and I had no idea how I was going to get over it. I felt like I was going insane. The other campers started to notice that something was wrong. I was jumpy around my friends, snapping out of my fantasies and looking back at them guiltily whenever they addressed me. I had dark circles under my eyes and they must have known I wasn't sleeping well. Beckendorf gave me concerned glances and Annabeth long, hard stares, but luckily no one asked me about it, because I had no idea what I would have said. I was able to pass off my silence and exhaustion as anxiety about the war, worry about the prophecy and what it meant. As everyone was pretty stressed out themselves, no one looked into it any further. I started spending more time alone, tucked away in the Poseidon cabin or wandering aimlessly through the woods. (I had tried secluding myself in the stables, too, but the Pegasi sensed my anxiety and were jittery around me, whinnying and apologizing sheepishly for backing away into their stalls, trying to keep away from the aura of death they said I now had around me). The last days of break were spent mostly in the Big House, as myself, Annabeth, Chiron, and the other counselors began to piece together a plan for attacking the Princess Andromeda. We had decided it would be best if we didn't all scatter and return to our schools, so most of us stayed at Half-Blood Hill. As lonely as it was at camp, being the middle of winter and with many of the other kids often gone on quests, I was kind of glad I didn't have to go home. It was hard to hide from my mom and Paul that I would often wake in the middle of the night and sit down for breakfast exhausted, and that my mind was elsewhere, completely preoccupied. My mom knew about the war, of course, but she had a way of knowing when I was hiding something, so my excuses wouldn't work on her for long. It hurt me to lie to her, even if I couldn't possibly tell her the truth; if I was at camp, there'd be no need for any such excuses. And, let's be honest, it was much harder to jerk off as much as I wanted to with that kind of supervision than it was in an empty cabin with hardly any adults around.The dreams still bothered me, because they still seemed real. I didn't know if it was because they'd been prophetic for so long that I knew what it was like to have Nico really there, or if all half-blood dreams were just that extra-sensory. Either way, it was hard to accept that they were now just dreams.Because I knew Nico: I knew the angles of his body, the jut of his bones, the softness of his skin. I knew what he felt like, I knew how he tasted. I knew his kiss, the way he'd suck my lower lip into his mouth and worry it with his teeth, the way he would lick into my mouth forcefully, never questioning his welcome. I knew the way his fingertips would dr
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