Oliver thinks that Percy's face when he comes is beautiful. But he doesn't know for sure, because he's never seen it. Whenever they're together, Percy brings down darkness first, thick, warm darkness that Oliver can almost feel.
When Percy comes, every muscle in his body pulls taut, like the strings on a violin. Sweat springs up on his skin, his limbs shake. He throws his head back, his breath forces its way out between his clenched teeth. It's the only sound he makes.
Percy's eyes will be large, unfocused without his glasses, open and staring at nothing. His lips will be pulled back, teeth bared, as though he's in agony. His pale cheeks will be flushed, burning. His hair will stand on end, he will look altogether shocking.
Oliver thinks that this is beautiful. But he doesn't know for sure.
One day when Percy is jerking in his arms, cock pumping against Oliver's fist, one day when Percy is thrashing, impaled on Oliver's arm, so lost that he doesn't know his own name, one day Oliver will say the word and lift the darkness and see for himself.
But when the time comes, he always forgets to try.