Annabeth unhooked her bra beneath her tank top, dropping it onto the pile of combined clothing on the floor. The weather was feverishly warm, and she reclined backward across the mattress, which was bare except for the white sheets. Bright, clear afternoon sunlight filtered across the bed, illuminating her in her small denim shorts and loose, white camisole, rucked halfway up her midriff. Her skin was warm and sweaty, the curls of her hair limp. She was spent from the work she'd already done that day, and the heat wasn't helping.

She heard when Percy got home, but didn't open her eyes. Her heart automatically reacted, skipping as she listened to the dent of his footsteps. She barely heard the bedroom door move.

"Okay, that is not fair." Percy said from the doorway, observing her nearly undressed form on the bare mattress. She could hear the cheeky grin in his voice.

She opened one eye. "Did you bring me some ice water? Sorry, but that's the only way you're welcome, right now."

He held up a lidless pepsi cup. "Actually, I kind of did." He had a habit of carrying around ice to chew on, even in the cold months.

"I bet there's no water in that."

"And I bet you should be a little bit more grateful." His voice had suddenly dropped in a way that caused a curious physical reaction in her body, and she watched as he tipped the cup into his mouth, set it down, and then headed for the bed, crawling slowly up her body until he was pressing her down, their noses touching, and she couldn't breathe in the best possible way. His mouth bent to hers, which opened automatically, and a cube of ice transferred from his hot mouth to hers, with the help of his tongue. Icy cold in the midst of their heat. Goosebumps erupted all down her bare arms and legs, and his hands found her hips. The ice melted in her mouth as Percy kept kissing her, slow and languid and thorough.

"How's your day going so far?" He finally asked, their faces still nearly touching.

She smiled lazily. She felt drugged, dazed. She could tell he was 100% distracted, too. Neither of them wanted to talk about their day.

"Peachy." She whispered. "But make it better."

"Mmhmm."

He nosed his way leisurely down her neck, and she arched backward on the mattress, letting him explore her body, her hands moving above her head to grab the slats in the headboard.

His hands squeezed her knees, then her bare, smooth thighs as he kissed her exposed stomach, his tongue moving over her tanned naval. Her head arched further backward as she hummed and mewled her approval. She could feel the scratch of his lazy stubble on her warm skin. His hands went to her hips as he moved back up her body, settling on her ass in the little cutoff shorts that drove him to distraction. He squeezed it firmly, giving a low groan in the back of his throat as his mouth moved upward, kissing and murmuring low words she couldn't hear into her sweaty skin. He paused between her breasts, resting there. The thin material of her white tank top was somewhat transparent, stretched tight, and her hardened nipples were bold and obvious.

"Percy?" Her voice was breathier than usual, but hoarser, too. Like she'd been sobbing.

"Mmmm?" He was never a big talker when they were fooling around. It used to always be her that would get nervous and not shut up. She was never nervous now. Their bodies knew each other in every way. Their hearts did, too.

"I'm really glad you came home when you did."

She could feel his grin against her skin. Instead of answering, he started kissing her again – her breastbone, her neck, finally sucking a searing hickey into her collarbone as her toes curled and she panted his name. She'd learned the things that turned him on, just as he had with her. There was something about her moaning his name, his, when he was on top of her working her over, that he couldn't get enough of. He'd said it had to do with "just knowing that she loved him." She knew it actually had to do with possession.

She loved this more than just about anything in the world. Lazy summer afternoons, free from college classes, fucking whenever they pleased (which was every single day), lying back and letting him worship her for hours. Well – not hours. Neither of them could actually hold back that long. But it felt that way, inside their private sunbeam of clean cotton sheets and very little clothing.

"P-percy." She breathed, voice catching as he ran the rough pad of his thumbs over her peaked nipples. "Take off your shirt."

"So demanding," he complained, pulling the black t-shirt over his head and throwing it in the corner. She smiled slowly, raking her eyes over his tanned, lean muscles, lingering over his abs, and downward to where the indented v shapes disappeared into his dark, sagging levis.

"Stop objectifying me." He whispered into her mouth, suddenly hovering over her again; she could feel the weight of him pressing her body into the mattress, his hard-on pressing through his jeans onto her, his hips shifting against hers. And then he was slowly unhooking the button on her denim shorts, and her breathing was shallow again, the anticipation delicious. Her hands twisted in the sheets and she whimpered his name as his big, strong hand pushed into her shorts, into her panties, and began fingering her like his life depended on it.

His lips went to her ear. "You're so wet for me, Annabeth. Is this what you wanted me to come home and do to you?"

"Y-yess." It was difficult for her to speak, but she knew he needed an answer. His finger moved in and out of her, and then the heel of his hand began to press on her clit, moving in a circular rhythm, and she began to see stars. His teeth bit her earlobe, and she let herself cry out, knowing he liked to hear her be loud. He kissed down her neck, searing another hickey onto her skin, then moved back to her ear. His voice was always deep and demanding when they had sex or messed around, but now it was sweet and protective, too. "Do you wanna come for me, Annabeth?"

Her eyes rolled back, her toes curled, and she arched backward into a blinding white light as she came with his hand still finger-fucking her hard, his face hovering over hers to watch her.

When she had somewhat recovered, and he had rolled off her, kissing her hand in a sweet gesture of servility, she smiled blissfully at his expression. "Don't look so cocky," she said, something sly and meaningful in her voice. "I'm not the only one getting off around here. Get under me now."


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