Percy Jackson: Golden
Title: Golden
Rating: NC-17
Characters/Pairings: Annabeth/Rachel
Summary: Rachel's father is home. Rachel improvises.
A/N: For the pjo_kinkmeme, prompt "Rachel/Annabeth, Annabeth's gagged." I don't even... like, it's not like this is my OTP or anything, but for some reason the prompt just SPOKE TO ME and then juxtaposie started egging me on AND THEN THIS HAPPENED I DUNNO, just assign the excuse that makes me not responsible for my own actions BECAUSE I ARE AN ADULT THAT WAY.
Rachel Dare’s bed is big. It’s so big that Annabeth is lying with her arms stretched above her head, sunk hip deep into the mattress while Rachel sprawls across her legs and presses soft kisses below her navel and her ankles don’t even dangle off the side. It’s huge, and soft, and Annabeth thinks she might be able to doze off into a nap if her arms weren’t tied firmly to the headboard, moaning around the silk scarf Rachel’s tied around her jaw as a gag.
“My dad’s home,” Rachel whispered as she tied it firmly, the silk caressing Annabeth’s cheek. Rachel only ever used silk; Annabeth is used to it ringing her wrists. Rachel never cared when they inevitably ended up ruined, wrung to hell by Annabeth writhing and pulling - she simply bought more. “Let’s not take any chances?”
It was the last coherent thing Annabeth processed; Rachel’s kept her mind in a tizzy, running her hands all over Annabeth’s body, kissing her lips, her neck, her shoulders - oh, she’s going to have marks, Annabeth hates having to explain marks - her breasts. Rachel kisses her breasts and mouths her nipples until Annabeth is gasping around the gag, the room spinning around her.
She needs air. She needs to come. She wants to touch Rachel more than anything on the planet - firmly against the rules, with Rachel hosting the Oracle. The most she’s ever allowed is the kisses, the trembling open mouthed press of their lips until they’re both whimpering against one another - which is usually when Rachel presses her onto her back and pulls out the scarves. Their positions have never been reversed; it’s only ever been Rachel on top, stroking the soft skin of her inner thighs and leaving bruises on her neck and abdomen.
Annabeth’s practically sobbing around the gag, her eyes clenched shut, and when she notices that she cannot feel Rachel’s touch - cannot feel anything but the heat of the other girl’s body against her thighs, her hot breath against her hip - she opens her eyes and looks down down down to where Rachel is looking back up at her, her eyes big and earnest.
“Are you ready, Annabeth?” And Annabeth nods frantically, panting and trying to buck her hips under Rachel; the tiniest bit of a smile quirks at the corner of Rachel’s lips. She knows what she’s doing. “I didn’t quite catch that. Do you want to come, Annabeth?”
“Yes, yes,” Annabeth tries to groan, and though it comes out muffled Rachel grins brightly.
“If you insist,” she says quietly, and then she bows her head and puts her mouth right on Annabeth’s center, nudging her way past the folds to lick a slow, wet line right along Annabeth’s clit, so good and hot and pleasurable that Annabeth practically burns to come, needs something, anything to get there.
Rachel knows exactly what she’s doing, knows exactly how to wind Annabeth up, how to pin her hips so she can’t move against her until she slides a hand between them and slips first one finger and then two deep inside her, stroking with her fingers and her tongue at the same time until Annabeth is arching and crying and thrashing, desperate to come.
When she’s finally pushed over the edge it’s heaven and hell, so hard she can barely breathe and she knows she has to be screaming even with the silk gagging her because Rachel always makes her scream, makes it a personal goal to make Annabeth cry out as loudly as she possibly can.
When she can finally think clearly again, comes back to herself in Rachel’s luxurious, soft bed, she finds herself untied, Rachel playing with her curls, twirling them around her fingers. “Good try,” she compliments, “but I still think it was too loud. I don’t know if he heard or not, but we’re going to have to try again.”
“Okay,” Annabeth breathes dazedly, and Rachel laughs and kisses her and presses close even though they both had more than enough room in her big bed.
Rating: NC-17
Characters/Pairings: Annabeth/Rachel
Summary: Rachel's father is home. Rachel improvises.
A/N: For the pjo_kinkmeme, prompt "Rachel/Annabeth, Annabeth's gagged." I don't even... like, it's not like this is my OTP or anything, but for some reason the prompt just SPOKE TO ME and then juxtaposie started egging me on AND THEN THIS HAPPENED I DUNNO, just assign the excuse that makes me not responsible for my own actions BECAUSE I ARE AN ADULT THAT WAY.
Rachel Dare’s bed is big. It’s so big that Annabeth is lying with her arms stretched above her head, sunk hip deep into the mattress while Rachel sprawls across her legs and presses soft kisses below her navel and her ankles don’t even dangle off the side. It’s huge, and soft, and Annabeth thinks she might be able to doze off into a nap if her arms weren’t tied firmly to the headboard, moaning around the silk scarf Rachel’s tied around her jaw as a gag.
“My dad’s home,” Rachel whispered as she tied it firmly, the silk caressing Annabeth’s cheek. Rachel only ever used silk; Annabeth is used to it ringing her wrists. Rachel never cared when they inevitably ended up ruined, wrung to hell by Annabeth writhing and pulling - she simply bought more. “Let’s not take any chances?”
It was the last coherent thing Annabeth processed; Rachel’s kept her mind in a tizzy, running her hands all over Annabeth’s body, kissing her lips, her neck, her shoulders - oh, she’s going to have marks, Annabeth hates having to explain marks - her breasts. Rachel kisses her breasts and mouths her nipples until Annabeth is gasping around the gag, the room spinning around her.
She needs air. She needs to come. She wants to touch Rachel more than anything on the planet - firmly against the rules, with Rachel hosting the Oracle. The most she’s ever allowed is the kisses, the trembling open mouthed press of their lips until they’re both whimpering against one another - which is usually when Rachel presses her onto her back and pulls out the scarves. Their positions have never been reversed; it’s only ever been Rachel on top, stroking the soft skin of her inner thighs and leaving bruises on her neck and abdomen.
Annabeth’s practically sobbing around the gag, her eyes clenched shut, and when she notices that she cannot feel Rachel’s touch - cannot feel anything but the heat of the other girl’s body against her thighs, her hot breath against her hip - she opens her eyes and looks down down down to where Rachel is looking back up at her, her eyes big and earnest.
“Are you ready, Annabeth?” And Annabeth nods frantically, panting and trying to buck her hips under Rachel; the tiniest bit of a smile quirks at the corner of Rachel’s lips. She knows what she’s doing. “I didn’t quite catch that. Do you want to come, Annabeth?”
“Yes, yes,” Annabeth tries to groan, and though it comes out muffled Rachel grins brightly.
“If you insist,” she says quietly, and then she bows her head and puts her mouth right on Annabeth’s center, nudging her way past the folds to lick a slow, wet line right along Annabeth’s clit, so good and hot and pleasurable that Annabeth practically burns to come, needs something, anything to get there.
Rachel knows exactly what she’s doing, knows exactly how to wind Annabeth up, how to pin her hips so she can’t move against her until she slides a hand between them and slips first one finger and then two deep inside her, stroking with her fingers and her tongue at the same time until Annabeth is arching and crying and thrashing, desperate to come.
When she’s finally pushed over the edge it’s heaven and hell, so hard she can barely breathe and she knows she has to be screaming even with the silk gagging her because Rachel always makes her scream, makes it a personal goal to make Annabeth cry out as loudly as she possibly can.
When she can finally think clearly again, comes back to herself in Rachel’s luxurious, soft bed, she finds herself untied, Rachel playing with her curls, twirling them around her fingers. “Good try,” she compliments, “but I still think it was too loud. I don’t know if he heard or not, but we’re going to have to try again.”
“Okay,” Annabeth breathes dazedly, and Rachel laughs and kisses her and presses close even though they both had more than enough room in her big bed.