Nyx is already reaching right back for Midnighter, pulling him into the circle of his arms. Feels something tight and pained and closed like a fist in his chest ease, bit by slow bit, tension seeping out of him in a long sigh.

"Already laying it on thick, huh? 'Cause you know flattery is gonna get you exactly what you want." But the affection in his voice belies the tease as Nyx focuses on combing fingers through his hair, rubbing at the prickly-softness of the buzzed-off sides before he presses a kiss to his temple. Midnighter smells like leather, like the acrid tang of ozone, something singed and bloody. He can't get enough of it. What's a little blood in comparison?

"Mm, missed you," he murmurs... and gives Midnighter's ass a squeeze. "Long job?"

"Anniversary...?" Oh, shit, was that a thing? Celebrating dates and... their time together and... Belatedly, Nyx realizes he probably shouldn't have made it so obvious that stuff like anniversaries hadn't even been on his radar, letting out a sheepish huff.

"Already a year, huh? Feels like longer. Like I've known you..." he kisses the side of Midnighter's neck, then his scruffy cheek, all he can reach. "A while, a long, long while. I, uh... have a surprise for you too. But you gotta unwrap it."

"Not this time," Nyx says with a wry laugh, like he knows exactly why Midnighter might jump to that conclusion. Drawing a half-step away, he begins to shrug out of his uniform. "C'mon, help me out of this."

As soon as he's shucked off the jacket and pulled off his shirt, Nyx takes his hand and presses it against his chest, knowing that Midnighter's enhanced senses would've already picked up on the new patch of reddened skin, along with a sprinkling of fresh tattoos. An arrow's point with flecks of black on either side, drawing a straight line to a small crescent moon hardly bigger than a fingernail. A match to Midnighter's emblem, inked right over Nyx's heart.

"Thought I'd let you find it on your own, but... now seems like a good time."

Nyx holds himself perfectly still as Midnighter stares at the tattoo, a tentative smile unfurling over his lips. The look on Midnighter's face... that's good, right? He hopes it's good, not too presumptuous, not too... needy or weird or...

And then he's smothered in kisses, laughing into them, dragged right up against Midnighter's chest and into his warm embrace.

"Mmf, yeah, yeah, you handsome...mmm, fucking bastard. You got me good." He's kissing Midnighter back, deep and hard and utterly adoring, murmuring against his skin. "Think about you on the job... all the damn time." Another kiss, this one long and lingering. "Miss your face. Miss being in your arms. Astrals, I've never... never felt like this before."

If Nyx objects to getting crushed against Midnighter's broad chest, he certainly doesn't look it. Relaxing into him with a pleased sigh, Nyx has a hand in Midnighter's hair and the other laid upon his cheek, smoothing over stubble, as he lets the last of two weeks worth of tension trickle out of his body, a weary soldier come home.

"Yeah, well you've still got another present waiting. Gotta unwrap that one too." Nyx kisses Midnighter's cheek, then turns to whisper conspiratorially into his ear.

"It's my dick."

"What do I have to do, break out the reinforced manacles? No, don't answer that," Nyx laughs, rolling on top of him with lazy, boneless grace. Midnighter is all hard muscle beneath him, the heat rising from his skin warming him through his bones as Nyx smooths a hand up his sides, fingers idly tickling at his ribs before he presses a light kiss to the corner of his mouth. The tease in his voice belies the faint flush rising on his cheeks-- easier to focus on Midnighter's handsome face and muscled thighs than the way that tentative smile makes something in Nyx's chest flipflop in yearning and gratitude.

But he doesn't have to think like that anymore. Not when it's all out in the open, what they have between them, written right into his skin. When Nyx can dare think the word, say it aloud.

"Love the thought of that, though. Driving you over the edge." He sits up, half straddling Midnighter as he leans over him to pull open the drawer. The blindfold is right where he'd last left it, a crumpled band of black fabric, and Nyx takes it up in his hands with an expression of near reverence, drawing it carefully over Midnighter's eyes before pressing a chaste kiss to his lips.

"Have my way with you til you can't think or talk straight, fuck you 'til you're begging for it, make you all mine..." Now it's his turn to get his mouth get away from him, only half paying attention to what he's saying as he lets his nails skim over pale skin, red marks fading away between one heartbeat and the next.

"Hey," Nyx says, smacking Midnighter's shoulder in mock-admonishment, "Don't make it that easy."

Not that he's one to complain, not when the way Midnighter fucking looks at him is enough to leave him warm and breathless. Nyx pushes himself up to his knees, grinning down at Midnighter as he straddles him, grinding teasingly over his erection. He's still in his underwear, if nothing else, but that's... fine. Nyx wants to take his time, grasping Midnighter's wrists and pressing them into the mattress above his head. Doesn't matter if the cuffs don't last-- it's the idea that counts, of having Midnighter prone and squirming and hot for it beneath him.

"What, now you're gonna worry about that? What'd you say last time-- fuck the computer, right?"

"If you think I'm gonna let the fight computer get in the way of screwing your brains out, you've got another one coming."

But damn is it hard to not get distracted with Midnighter just-- relaxed and basking and so damned sweet beneath him. Nyx loves him like this, all purring heat and heavy muscle like some great, lethal cat, but the idea of Midnighter shuddering beneath him, drenched with sweat and pleading his name has sunk its hooks into him. Nyx leans in, stretched over the length of his body and feeling the heat roll off his skin, still gripping Midnighter's wrists with nothing but his own strength holding him down, not even the flimsy cuffs in place.

Trust you, baby.

Sucking in low breath, he leans forward and-- closes his mouth over the muscled column of Midnighter's neck, teeth none-too-gently skimming bared skin as he sucks biting kisses and red marks that fade away between one breath and the next down from the soft underside of his jaw to the hollow of his throat. He can feel the rapid flutter of Midnighter's pulse between his teeth, laves over hot skin with his tongue, tasting salt. It's not a test, not really. Not for Midnighter, anyway. More of a chance to prove himself, that Nyx means every single damn thing he says. That he wants it all and then some, while the two of them still have time together. And also-- fuck the computer.

Even prepared for this reaction, Nyx throws his weight forward on reflex, leaning into Midnighter as if he were holding him down with sheer force alone, as if the other man couldn't break Nyx's grip as easily as batting his lashes. It would be so easy for Midnighter to take back control any damn time he pleases, and even now Nyx can feel it, all that coiled power in the hard body beneath him, his gaze drawn to the shadows playing over the ripple of muscle and the taut cords of Midnighter's neck.

Heat jolts through him, leaving him breathless, cock pressed against the tight fabric of his briefs. Like hell he's gonna stop. Instead, Nyx sinks his teeth into the hard muscle at the join of neck and shoulder, hard enough to bruise, to leave a brief mark, mine, before kissing back up the taut line of Midnighter's neck, possessive and adoring. (And there's a funny thought-- Nyx had never had anything or anyone to call his own before.)

His voice comes out a low, throbbing purr before teeth close around Midnighter's earlobe, a sudden sharp sting of a bite.

"Hey, I'm the one giving orders around here."

Midnighter arches and bucks beneath him, all coiled tension and raw power. Nyx can feel the heat rising from the other man's skin, sweat slick between them, clinging to his brow, palms damp as his pulse hammers in his ears. It's a dangerous game he's playing, thrilling, fucking addictive, like a rodeo with a massive toothy coerl or the last searing inhale before leaping headlong into a Nif war fleet. But Midnighter would never hurt him, never, and Nyx knows that even if his own body doesn't, spikes of adrenaline coursing through his veins as he reaches up to snap the flimsy cuffs around Midnighter's wrists, binding him to the headboard.

"What'd I just say?" His voice comes out a low, throbbing purr, husky with arousal even as he pointedly doesn't get into position behind Midnighter's ass. "Guess I'll just have to shut you up myself. C'mon, open up."

And casual as anything, Nyx hooks two fingers into his jaw, catching him mid-gasp before shifting forward, hips canted to press his cock between Midnighter's parted lips.