warnings: strong sexual tension (15+), suggestive content, mild violence (injuries + patching up wounds), and heavy mutual pining with a side of banter.
the dim light casts long shadows across the room, the air thick with the lingering scent of sweat, blood, and adrenaline. nick is sprawled in your chair, head tilted back, lips curled in that infuriating half-smirk even as crimson drips from the corner of his mouth.
“you always gotta be the tough guy, huh?” you mutter, dabbing antiseptic over the gash on his cheek. he flinches, not from the sting, but from the way your fingers graze his jaw, lingering for just a second too long.
his eyes flick to yours, dark and unreadable, amusement laced with something heavier, something unspoken. “didn’t know you cared so much, sweetheart,” he rasps.
you scoff, pressing the cotton a little harder against his wound just to hear him hiss. “i don’t. just don’t want you bleeding all over my floor.”
the room crackles with something electric. then, before you can think twice, your fingers slide from his cheek down to his chin, tilting it up so he’s looking right at you. his eyes flicker to your lips, then back up, and suddenly the air between you is suffocating. “you should stop getting into fights you can’t win,” you say, voice softer now, betraying something you don’t want to name.
nick exhales a slow, measured breath, his smirk twitching at the corners. “who says i didn’t win?” you don’t answer. and that’s when you feel it, how tense he is beneath your touch. how his breath is just a little too slow, too measured. his tongue swipes across his busted lip, like he knows exactly what he’s doing, like he knows you’re watching.
“careful, sweetheart,” he murmurs, voice all heat and gravel. “keep touching me like that, and i might start thinking you actually like having your hands on me.” your grip tightens, not enough to hurt, but enough to hold him there. to remind him that you’re the one in control right now.
“you talk too much,” you say. nick chuckles deeply, but there’s something sharp in it, something hungry. “and you don’t talk enough. but that’s okay. i like a girl who lets her hands do the talking.” your fingers twitch against his jaw, and his smirk flickers, just for a second. like he felt it too, that shift in the air, the slow pull of something neither of you can name.
your thumb ghosts over the edge of his jaw, tracing the bruise blooming beneath the skin. his breath stutters. it’s quick, barely noticeable, but you catch it. and he knows you caught it. the tension between you is suffocating now.
nick shifts slightly in the chair, his knee brushing against your leg, just a whisper of contact, just enough to make your stomach twist. “you nervous?” he asks, and it’s not teasing, not cocky. it’s something else. something darker. you don’t answer. you just lean in, just enough so that your breath skims his cheek, so that you can feel the heat rolling off him in waves. his fingers twitch against his knee, like he’s fighting the urge to touch you.
nick’s lips part, breath shallow, eyes flicking between your mouth and your gaze like he’s caught in the pull of something he can’t fight. then, just when the tension feels like it might snap, he breaks into a boyish, knowing smile. cocky. infuriating. like he already knows how this ends.
then, before you can pull away, his hands grip your waist, firm, as he pulls you into his lap. a sharp inhale catches in your throat, hands bracing against his shoulders, but he just leans back, settling you against him like you were always meant to be there. “there,” he murmurs. “now we’re comfortable.”
he smirks up at you, his hands still resting on your waist as he looks up at you with a knowing glint in his eye. “you know, for someone who hates me so much, you sure seem to find a lot of excuses to be around me.”
you scoff, scanning his face, “don’t flatter yourself. i only agreed to let you in because you were hurt.”
he raises an eyebrow, his smirk never wavering. "sure, sweetheart. keep telling yourself that. you could have just as easily called an uber and sent me on my way. just admit you like taking care of me.”
you shake your head, “shut up,” you whisper, smiling softly as you look into your eyes.
his smirk falters for a second, caught off guard by the sudden softness in your expression. hands tightening slightly on your waist before he catches himself, his voice dropping to a low murmur. "make me." he challenges, his face inches from yours.
“god you’re such a cliche,” you breathe. he chuckles, his face inching closer, his breath mingling with yours. “says the girl sitting on the lap of the guy she supposedly can't stand." his eyes flick to your lips, daring you to deny it again.
you stay silent this time, a shaky breath as your hands move to the nape of his neck, playing with his hair.
his smirk widens, catching your shaky breath as a victorious smirk curls his lips. his thumb traces a subtle path along your hipbone through your shirt, a feather-light touch that makes the hair on your neck stand up.
you blush, “god nick..” you felt as if you could explode with the tension.
his eyes light up at the sound of his name on your lips like that. a sigh mixed with annoyance and something else, and he takes that as his opening.
his hand moves from your hip to your back, pulling you flush against him as he captures your mouth in a kiss.
you return the kiss eagerly, moving your hips slightly against his lap. nick groans into the kiss, one hand sliding into your hair, the other cupping your jawline. his lips curve into a genuine smile against yours as he pulls back just enough to murmur, "if i’m such a cliche, why are you kissing me back so hard?" “you’re never gonna let that go, are you?” you reply, rolling your eyes with a smile.
“not a chance in hell,” he smirks, pulling you back into another kiss while his hands explore your waist. "y/n.. if you roll your eyes like that again," he groans, "i swear..." nick’s voice trails off as his thumbs trace circles on your lower back.
“what?” you ask, challenging him as your hand returns to grip that same place on his chin, forcing him to look into your eyes.
“i’ll give you a better reason to roll your eyes,” he says, his hands travelling to your ass, squeezing gently.
you moan unexpectedly, rolling your hips again to relieve the ache that you felt in between your legs. “please do.” you reply, melting under his gaze. “your wish is my command, y/n.”
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