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Niko shifted his weight from one leg to the other, feeling a little awkward. “You mean, like some kind of roleplay thing?”

“That’s exactly what I mean, Niko. I want to experience that again. The thrill of it. Don’t you?”

“Yeah. Okay. Well, what do I get for kicking your ass, then?”

Elliott laughed. “Should I even bother answering? I’m going to kick yours. As I most often did.”

“No, I think it went a little differently,” Niko said. “Besides, I held back with you. A lot.”

“Oh? Did you? I don’t recall that ever being a thing. You seemed quite exhausted by the time I was done with you on most of those skirmishes.”

Niko grinned. “Trust me. I could have gone a lot harder. But I didn’t want to break you.

If I win this…” Something about the whole thing brought out a feral side of him.

Even a reminder of the lightning-strike energy they’d once had between each other as adversaries did something to Niko.

His voice emerged low now, a shade darker.

“I want you. I dreamed about doing that. About catching you and then fucking you senseless.”

He didn’t need to share the direction that fantasy had eventually shifted to, with Elliott being the one to pin him down instead.

Elliott looked at him for a long moment, something unreadable in his eyes as he studied Niko. Niko suddenly felt sheepish and stupid. Shouldn’t have admitted that. Probably took this in a weird direction. Elliott was likely going to laugh at him for it.

Instead, the other man stalked over to the door and locked it. Niko hadn’t even known the training room possessed a lock. Then Elliott made his way back over. “ When I win, I want to take you. I want to make you submit to me. I’ll have you begging for it.”

Niko swallowed, an illicit thrill running through him at the idea.

It didn’t matter.

He wasn’t going to lose. He wasn’t going to let Elliott best him, this time.

He glanced again at the locked door. They were really going to do this.

“So. Uh, something like this might get a little too much, if we’re really going back into that mentality.

I don’t want to do something stupid that accidentally really hurts you in some way. ”

“Neither do I.”

“Maybe we should have a safeword thing, in case… I don’t know. It goes too far.”

“I agree. I was going to suggest the same. Especially for what comes after. You pick the word.”

“Me? Ugh.” Niko was horrible at these things. There were millions of words at his disposal that Galactic Standard was comprised of, yet trying to search for a single one now, his mind went blank. Naturally.

He searched Elliott’s face, his gaze falling on the sea green of his eyes. “Ocean,” he blurted out. But Elliott only laughed.

“In the middle of a fight, Niko? It sounds far too close to ‘oh, shit.’”

Niko couldn’t help but laugh too. “Oh, shit, you’re right.”

Elliott smirked.

“Uh, okay, then, what about… sailboat?”

“Sailboat it is, then, lover.”

Niko let out a long breath. “Okay, so, whenever you’re ready, let’s—”

Elliott took the advantage, darting in before Niko could finish speaking. He aimed a hit between the armor plates, sending Niko’s adrenaline spiking. Niko immediately jumped back, putting wary space between them now. “...Do this. Asshole.”

So, you want to fucking fight dirty, huh? he thought. I can meet you there.

It wasn’t any different than how their actual altercations had gone.

“You’re really the best Galapol could do?” Elliott teased. He wore a wicked smile. “They’re getting more desperate by the day. I’ve outsmarted dozens of bounty hunters before you. What makes you think you’re any different?”

“I’m not here to chat with you,” Niko said, throwing himself toward Elliott, hoping to overpower the other man. Elliott was frustratingly fast, though, slipping just out of his way before Niko could get a grip on him. This was all so familiar, that it actually felt nostalgic.

Niko loved that it did. He knew Elliott was loving it too—especially by the cocky grin on the other man’s face. Fighting with him was a little bit like dancing with him.

Niko knew he should probably reevaluate his romantic standards. That, or speak with a therapist.

“Why not?” Elliott asked, moving in quick again and feigning a punch to Niko’s left.

Niko tried to deflect it, but Elliott used his folly to slip around his right instead.

Niko was ready for him now, though, too wary to let him try anything tricky again.

He spun quickly and deflected another hit, shoving him back hard.

Elliott managed to keep his footing and narrowed his eyes.

“This ‘fight’ is boring me. Either make a real attempt, or at least entertain me with conversation if you’re going to just waste my time. ”

Niko ground his jaw. He may have forgotten how easily and often Elliott had gotten under his skin during their old encounters.

This time, he tried to bait Elliott into a trap, throwing a sloppy punch.

Elliott dodged with ease, but Niko predicted it, snagging him by the wrist and pulling him against himself.

Elliott struggled against him, but Niko got him roughly turned around and trapped in a rear bear hug.

Elliott threw his weight into Niko hard, bucking against him several times, which Niko barely managed to keep his balance through.

Finally, Elliott threw himself to the side and it was too much for Niko’s unfeeling feet to keep up with.

They both went down, Elliott still pinned to him as Niko held tight.

They wrestled on the ground, Niko trying to keep a solid grip on him, Elliott too infuriatingly slippery to ever get pinned down for long.

He kicked his long legs and squirmed against Niko below him.

“You know,” Elliott ground out between panting breaths, “I’m starting to get the feeling you aren’t even trying to actually bring me in. You just want to get close to me.”

“You mean, cop a feel?” Niko asked. He couldn’t help himself, sliding a hand downward to fondle Elliott’s crotch. “Maybe.”

It wasn’t as fun as he’d hoped it would be, unable to feel anything through his gloves. And especially when Elliott elbowed him hard in the side for his attempt. Somehow, he always managed to find the miniscule soft spots right between the armor plates. Niko grunted in pain.

“I’m not interested in letting you feel me up like a fumbling, drunk teenager at his first party.

” Elliott finally slipped out of his grip and sprung up, turning around quickly to face him.

He narrowed his eyes. “ If I were interested in going there, I’d want a man who actually knows how to use his hands. ”

Niko hastily got to his feet, irritation grating through him. It was all a game. But he couldn’t help but want to show Elliott just how much of a man he really was.

This time, he let Elliott strike first. The other man was almost too quick, nearly dancing around him to try and get a kick in at the back of Niko’s knee.

Niko sidestepped just in time and turned to grab him, then slammed him back against the wall, finally able to pin him there with his body weight.

Elliott gasped, the air knocked sharply out of him from the impact.

Niko seized his wrists in an iron grip. “How’s this for using my hands?” he taunted.

Elliott began struggling, his face twisting into a mixture of rage and frustrated panic. For a moment, Niko thought he might actually use the safeword, but the other man stayed silent.

Niko kept him pinned against the wall, a rush of victory and pride coursing through him. He’d done it. He’d bested Elliott. He had won.

If anything inside him was somehow disappointed, he pushed it down and refused to dwell on it. He’d won, and decided to relish in the thrill of it.

He leaned in and whispered in the other man’s ear. “ You’re mine now .”

Niko bent to plant a greedy kiss on Elliott’s jaw when the assassin twisted under his grip, in a sudden surge of strength.

Then he pushed into Niko, delivering a sensual, forceful kiss of his own against his lips, his tongue penetrating him.

It was all so familiar. He could be back on Uula again, the wind in his hair, the taste of Elliott on his tongue.

The man had tried the same tactic once before.

Only now, there was something else, too. This time it wasn’t a handcuff. A sharp pinprick, cold and hard as steel, pressed against his neck where it was exposed above the suit’s collar. Niko opened his eyes and pulled away.

“Elliott?” he asked uncertainly. “Isn't that, um, kind of cheating?”

They'd never technically agreed to a no weapons rule, but Niko had thought it was a given.

Elliott held his lucky knife to Niko’s throat. Niko locked gazes with him in silence.

He looked up at Niko, eyes hard and sharp as the dagger he wielded now, all dogged cleverness and determination. There was a wilderness there, a danger. Elliott had the blade he’d murdered with before to Niko’s neck. A single flick of the wrist and he would be gone before he’d know it.

“This was never a fair fight,” Elliott said, deadly serious. “I was always going to make you mine.”