Posted originally on the Archive_of_Our_Own at https://archiveofourown.org/
works/11022630.
  Rating:
      Explicit
  Archive Warning:
      Underage
  Category:
      M/M
  Fandom:
      Percy_Jackson_and_the_Olympians_-_Rick_Riordan
  Relationship:
      Nico_di_Angelo/Percy_Jackson
  Character:
      Percy_Jackson, Nico_di_Angelo
  Additional Tags:
      Masturbation, Accidental_Voyeurism, Denial
  Stats:
      Published: 2017-05-28 Chapters: 1/? Words: 2002
****** Pressing Lidless Eyes ******
by Cerberusia
Summary
     I saw Nico immediately: his was the only occupied bed, right at the
     back of the cabin. The decor was pretty minimal - lots of black, a
     couple of animal skulls with massive horns that looked like they
     might have once belonged to something that breathed fire. But I
     didn't get chance to admire it, because I was floating towards Nico's
     bed like a camera dollying in.
You know when you have those weird dreams where you're just floating and
watching whatever crazy stuff your brain's putting on, like the audience at the
movie theatre? For you they're probably not a big deal, but I always dread them
because I know that they won't be ordinary dreams.
I don't want to sound ungrateful or anything: they've been helpful in the past,
like when I saw all that stuff with Grover and Annabeth. Suddenly seeing what's
going on with your mysteriously lost friends is definitely better than not
knowing. But this one was super weird, because no one was mysteriously lost or
in terrible danger or anything. It was just about Nico, a few yards away in
Hades cabin. And in the cold light of day, it was kind of embarrassing.
To start with, I went to bed early. I'd done sword practice with Annabeth
nearly all afternoon, and however much I loved it and have pretty serious
stamina, there's only so long even a teenaged half-blood can swing a heavy
sword like Riptide around without getting tired. And Annabeth doesn't just come
in swinging: like any child of Athena, she strategises. If you fight Annabeth
you have to use your brain as much as your body, which makes it twice as
tiring. (Annabeth says that's just because I have a head full of kelp, but she
has an unfair advantage).
Dinner was pretty quiet, as camp dinners go. We were all still recovering from
having beat the Titans in Manhattan, only two weeks ago. We'd passed the
celebratory period and now everyone wanted to keep it low-key, the deaths of
friends weighing heavily on our minds. No doubt by the end of the summer it
would ramp up again.
I kept my friends close, more grateful than ever to have them, and conscious of
the ones we'd never see again. We had to eat at separate tables, of course, but
I still caught Annabeth's eye and Grover's, and sat with them at the campfire.
We chatted about nothing, really - just little things, stuff that wasn't
important. It was a relief after months of nothing but serious conversations
about the fate of the world.
Across the campfire, I caught Nico's eye. He was watching us, but when I
motioned for him to come over, he shook his head and slipped away. Maybe he was
tired still - he always looked it - but it looked more like he was avoiding me.
I tried not to feel hurt: Nico had kept to himself ever since his sister's
death. He didn't have to come and bond with us if he didn't want to, even if we
all agreed it would do him good.
By this time, sword practice and warmth and having a full stomach had taken
their toll on me - and by the looks of things a few others around the fire. So
I said my goodnights, cleaned my teeth, got into my pajamas, and basically
collapsed into bed. I felt sore in ways I couldn't quite identify. It was
probably my brain, I decided, then promptly fell asleep.
And I dreamed. Not right away, I think, but probably pretty soon after, since
Nico was still awake. Though he was a total insomniac, so come to think of it
it could have been well after midnight. Anyway, there I was, floating next to
my bed. I floated through my cabin and out of the door without actually opening
it or touching anything. You can do that kind of stuff in dreams.
But it had the kind of detail and the strange prickling at the back of my neck
that told me that this wasn't an ordinary dream. I floated, removed from it all
like I was watching it through a movie camera, but I noticed all the stuff that
you just gloss over in dreams. Like owls hooting in the trees and a discarded
s'mores stick next to the remains of the bonfire.
It was like those dreams I used to have during quests, but instead of the
urgent opening in media res, this leisurely floating through the camp was
peaceful; like it was working up anticipation, but for something nice.
I slipped past the cabins - not through them, thank the gods, because there are
some things I never want to see and Clarisse in her pajamas is one of them -
until I came to the door of Hades cabin. Without opening the door, I went in.
I saw Nico immediately: his was the only occupied bed, right at the back of the
cabin. The decor was pretty minimal - lots of black, a couple of animal skulls
with massive horns that looked like they might have once belonged to something
that breathed fire. But I didn't get chance to admire it, because I was
floating towards Nico's bed like a camera dollying in.
He was lying on his back but with his legs to one side, the covers kicked off.
Well, it was a hot summer night, though even my dream-self felt the slight but
permanent chill in Hades cabin. He wasn't wearing a shirt - nor was I; see
earlier comment about the weather - and I could see his ribs when he breathed
in. His skin was pale in the moonlight. I remembered that he'd been olive-
skinned as a kid - well, he was Italian - and I wondered whether he'd regain
his colour if we made him sit in the sun for long enough.
He put his hand between his legs, casually enough that I didn't realise what he
was doing for a moment. Then he closed his eyes and his hand started moving,
and I figured it out pretty quick.
If I'd been actually there, like in body, I would have shot out of there like
my ass was on fire. Yeah, we all did it, but that was private, and Nico didn't
strike me as the kind of guy who'd just laugh off being peeped on.
But it was a dream, so I didn't feel any of that: I just felt kind of
interested. Was he going to take his pants off, or just do it through clothing
the whole time? I guessed it must be some guys' thing, though to me it just
sounded like a recipe for chafing.
Maybe it did to Nico as well, because after a minute of squeezing and rubbing
he wriggled his pants down to his knees. Again: awake, I'd have been at least
politely averting my eyes. Getting an eyeful of some guy's morning wood in the
boys' shower block was kind of inevitable, and there was the occasional dirty
joke or comment about putting someone's eye out, but we all knew the guy code
dictated not staring.
But in the dream - that was only kind of a dream, but I wasn't in control so it
totally counted - I was still incapable of embarrassment. Instead, I was
interested in his dick.
Now, I know what you're thinking. But listen to me: all boys are interested in
other guy's dicks. We know what our own dick looks like, and we want to know
how it measures up to others. It's like I thought girls were about breasts,
until Annabeth told me they weren't, which sadly torpedoed a lot of my
favourite fantasies.
So yeah, I wanted to see this guy's dick. And I did, though he rolled over onto
his side so all I could see was the head. It was fine - not big, not small, and
most importantly not bigger than mine - but it didn't look like mine, and it
took me a long minute to realise that he wasn't cut. Maybe they didn't do that
in Europe. Come to think of it, why did we all do it in America? I knew pretty
much all the other guys I'd seen were cut.
I watched him close his eyes and move his hand, his eyelashes fluttering
occasionally. Without me noticing, the camera had tilted and zoomed in, so I
was now technically hovering over him. I could hear his breathing and the
rustling as his legs rubbed against the sheets - and the steady shh-shh noise
of jerking off. His free hand kept clutching fitfully at his hair.
I don't know how to put this, exactly, but basically: I liked watching him. I
liked that he didn't know he was being watched so he wasn't self-conscious, and
I liked that he was enjoying himself. Even now he seemed withdrawn a lot of the
time, not completely comfortable around me or our friends, and when I watched
his face scrunch up in pleasure I felt - connected to him, somehow. Like I was
sharing something with him. Like he was letting me in.
He'd die of mortification if he knew I was there, of course. Or maybe have
skeletons rip me to shreds first. I knew that: the thought floated across my
mind, and made absolutely no impact. I didn't feel like I was violating his
privacy, even though I guess I technically was. I just felt curious.
Suddenly, he bit his lip hard and took a harsh breath through his nose. His
hand sped up and he rocked his hips into it. He twisted on the bed, his ribs
catching the moonlight, and I knew what was about to happen when he pulled his
hand out of his hair and put it over the head of his dick.
He turned his face into the pillow, as if he were embarrassed, so I didn't get
to see his face as he came. But I saw his mouth open, heard him make soft hah-
hah-hah noises, and watched as his body tensed up and his dick spat come all
over his hand in hard, shuddering pulses.
Now, I don't know about you, but after I've jacked off I feel relaxed and often
kind of sleepy - masturbating before bed is like Valium for most teenage boys.
If I'd just gotten off as hard as it looked like Nico had, I'd be a boneless
puddle on the mattress. But as the dream faded out and consciousness seeped
back into my own body, back in my own bed in Poseidon cabin, I didn't think
Nico looked relaxed or even relieved: if anything, he looked more miserable
than ever. What could make you look like that after an orgasm?
I woke up with these thoughts in my mind, along with a raging boner. I was on
my back, the covers kicked down so far they only covered one leg, so I just
pushed down my boxers enough to pull out my dick, and got on with getting off.
Still half-asleep, I thought of the stifling darkness of Hades cabin and Nico.
He clearly preferred to do it curled up on his side, whereas I lay on my back,
totally exposed.
I slid my other hand into my underwear and squeezed my balls, opening my legs
wider. Had Nico tried this? If not, he was missing out. I made little circles
on the mattress with my hips, squirming as orgasm started tightening at the
base of my dick. I imagined Nico watching me, using me as an example.
I came all over my stomach, curling up off the bed as the tight hot pleasure
exploded over and over. One of the really mundane weirdnesses that came along
with being a halfblood was that I came a lot. Like, double what a normal boy
would. It was kind of sexy to see all that come spurt out of my dick, but also
pretty annoying to clean up until I'd mastered liquid manipulation. I guessed
Nico would just have to clean up the old-fashioned way. I hoped that was all he
was upset about, but I knew it wasn't.
Totally relaxed, I pulled the covers up, rolled over, and went back to sleep. I
didn't go back to that weird vision-dream, but images of Nico's face, drawn and
tired and somehow hurt, haunted me through the night.
Please drop_by_the_archive_and_comment to let the author know if you enjoyed
their work!