Percabeth Dirty One Shots and Drabbles

Divertissement

By @gluten_full on ao3
Annabeth had a plan. She was going to go to Miami, watch him dance, and then take him back to her hotel room, where she would reveal the matching white lace bra and panty set she had on under her dress.

Leave it to Percy Jackson to completely ruin all of her plans.

Instead, they'd left each other heart broken and in tears, and she'd traveled back to New York alone, miserable, and unsatisfied.

Only for him to show up at her door and promise her everything.

All while she was in her dirty pajamas. She hadn't shaved since she'd arrived in Miami three days ago. Her bra and panties didn't match because she wasn't wearing a bra, only an old thin tank top, and her panties were some threadbare, period-stained granny panties.

But if Percy had noticed any of that, he didn't seem to care. The moment she'd run her hands through his hair, he looked like he was ready to completely devour her, sweatpants and all.

Percy lifted her, his hands gripping under her ass as her feet left the floor. She wrapped her legs around his hips, and muttered "that way," shifting her body weight towards the bedroom to direct him.

Percy followed the instructions, and started to move them, carrying her all the way.

"What do you want?" He asked, his voice raspy in her ear.

God, he did something to her she'd never experienced before with Luke or anyone else. He could just look at her, speak to her, or touch her, and suddenly she was pulsing between her legs, wet and desperate for him. Now was no exception. Really, her arousal was much, much worse than usual now that his hands were so close to where she needed to feel them, that his lips were on hers, that she was getting such minor relief by pressing herself to his belt buckle through her sweatpants.

Her hair was a tangled mess, but Percy undid it anyway, dropping the claw clip to the ground, and slipping his hands up into her curls.

He pushed their way into her bedroom, and asked, his mouth so close to his ear that she could feel the scruff he hadn't shaved that morning scratch pleasantly against her cheek.

He asked again: "Annabeth, tell me what you want?"

"I want to undress you," she said.

He'd seen her naked already, technically. It had been a moment and way neither of them had consented to. But the memory of that night still made her feel a little vulnerable. For all her lower body's drumming desire, her mind needed just one additional reassurance that she wasn't the only vulnerable one here.

Percy lowered her to the floor, kissing her again as he set her down.

"Alright," he said. He was smiling. Through his jeans, Annabeth could see the faint outline of his hardening cock. She licked her lips, excited to see it out of a dance belt or underwear finally. She'd dreamed of it plenty, and had used several different toys and her fingers to imagine the feel of it. And there it was.

Annabeth leaned forward and grabbed on to the hem of his tee shirt, before lifting it up and over his head. She'd seen him shirtless plenty of times. He didn't have much chest hair, but he did have a tantalizing little happy trail that traced its way up a plain of abs that she knew, when flexed, were pretty well defined.

She hummed in appreciation. "Very nice," she said, leaning in again as she reached for his belt.

Really, it was more than very nice. He was cut like a young Greek god, a marble statue come to life. She knew his arms: they were strong and reliable; they could lift her up over his head with so little effort. She knew his legs, how graceful they could be, how quick they could move. His feet were the same. She knew his hips, his waist, his neck, his face. She knew every part of him in every intimate way, except this one.