Case Studies In Vulnerability
Summary: Annabeth recognizes a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity when she sees one, and decides to conduct an experiment.
Rating: NC17
Pairing: Annabeth/Percy
Warnings: Spoilers for The Last Olympian, [(click to open)]Achilles spot porn, anal, rimming, complete and utter filthiness
A/N: I wrote this to blow off midterm steam. I've found two fics that tackle this subject, and while they were both great, two is clearly not enough. Completely disregards Heroes of Olympus.
The summer before senior year is an educational one for Annabeth. She gains thorough knowledge of New York’s architectural history. She learns that Sally Blofis refuses to clean house without Licensed to Ill playing in the background. She barely skims the surface of the intricate cultural tensions between Percy’s love of the Yankees and Paul’s dedication to the Mets, but she’s confident that for an outsider, she’s done her best.
Annabeth learns plenty of interesting things in Percy’s bed on rainy weekday mornings (and in the shower on sticky days when the power goes out, and against the kitchen counter on Paul and Sally’s date nights). For instance, Percy really likes it when she tops. The ratio is a little ridiculous, given how easily they both get bored. Still, given Percy’s absentmindedness and his attraction to forceful women, it wouldn’t exactly shock anyone.
No, the interesting thing is that Percy has a bossy streak, and it only comes out when he’s flat on his back with Annabeth riding him. She likes to drag things out, and it never takes long before he’s gripping her thighs and whining for her to go faster, come on, you’re so tight, I’m dying here. Sometimes he thrusts up hard enough to knock her off. It doesn’t hurt him when she smacks his chest, but it does shut him up.
On his back, Percy is mouthy and demanding and impatient. But when he’s on top, it’s slow and gentle. He strokes her hair rather than pulling it, presses all the way down so she can feel his heart slam against her body, whispers her name over and over like a prayer. He likes to look at her, staring down with awe and concern and overwhelming need. The face he makes when he comes on top of her is so naked and intimate that Annabeth shivers just thinking about it.
She has no experience except with Percy, but she knows there’s something backwards about it. She doesn’t put the pieces together until she ambushes him at the kitchen sink one night, sneaking up behind him and planting a kiss on the back of his neck.
“Holy hell!” Percy jumps about a foot in the air, flinging soap suds all over the counter. Annabeth giggles and wraps her arms around his chest.
“Relax, it’s just me. You startle too easily. Somebody could take advantage of that.”
She slides her hands under his shirt, just holding them against the warm skin of his stomach. He’s still breathing hard, but she can feel him relax the longer she stands there. By the time the dishes are done, Percy has melted back against her chest. He’s letting out little breathy hums that she usually hears when he’s just woken up, or when they’re spooning on the couch, or when he used to lean against a cabin wall and tug her close for a long, steamy goodnight kiss.
In short, whenever the small of his back is protected.
“Hey, Wiseass, can I have my ribcage back?”
His voice is gruff, and it makes Annabeth shiver. “No. I’m protecting you.”
Percy goes still. She stands on tiptoe and leans her hips into his lower back. He gasps, his head rolling back to expose his neck to her. She bites it, just because she can, then soothes the nonexistent sting with the soft press of her lips.
“Shh, I’ve got you,” she murmurs, and barely feels guilty for how much it turns her on.
*
The next time they have a night alone, she grabs Percy’s wrist on his way to the shower.
“Hey.” She blushes, even though they’ve had this conversation before. “Squeaky clean, okay?”
“Squeaky clean?” He slips his fingers through her belt loops and tugs her close. “Are you gonna get me dirty, Annabeth Chase?”
“Just do it, Seaweed Brain.”
He smirks and kisses her hand. “Fresh as a daisy for my fair maiden.”
She almost laughs at the irony. “Your maiden won’t be fair if you stall all night.”
Annabeth waits in his bedroom. Percy comes in wearing just a towel and scrubbing his hair dry, and he grins when he sees the lube.
“Remind me why we don’t do this every night.” He sits on the bed and kisses her, strong fingers working the tense muscles in her neck. Annabeth gasps before pulling back.
“I want to try something.”
He grins. “Awesome. What do you want to try?”
Annabeth suddenly can’t meet his eyes. It’s not the sex stuff-while the activity is a new one, Percy has never been less than thrilled to play around there. It’s the mental part that makes her feel ashamed, like she’s sick to want him weak and vulnerable. She shouldn’t be turned on by the one thing in the world that can kill him.
“Percy, do you trust me?”
He seems to pick up on her mood, because he curls a hand around the back of her neck and leans his forehead against hers. “To the ends of the world. You know that.”
“Enough to lie on your stomach?”
Percy takes a deep breath, then releases it.
“You do this thing,” he says, twirling her hair around his fingers. “You kind of read my mind sometimes. It’s a little creepy, but it usually results in the best sex ever.”
She sits back. “You figured it out too?”
He looks confused. “Yeah, pretty much right away. I’m surprised it took you this long.”
Carefully, Annabeth slides her fingers under the towel where it wraps around his sides. “What does it feel like?”
He takes a moment to think. “It’s like being naked. Any real weapon can slice through a t-shirt, but it’s different when you’re shirtless. It feels like everyone’s watching, looking for your weak spots. You have to trust the people around you not to…take advantage.”
His eyebrows waggle at the last two words, but he’s blushing a little. The idea that he wants this for the same reason she does is electric, but she can’t get carried away.
“Is it a good feeling? When you trust the person.” She brings her hand to his spine and strokes down a few inches. Percy squirms, and she’s going to die if she doesn’t get that towel off soon.
“Did I mention how fucking sensitive my back is now?”
Annabeth grins. “Lie down, and I’ll help you with that.”
There’s a difference between bossy and authoritative, she realizes. All those times he topped, trusting her to watch his exposed back, he never obeyed her with this kind of efficiency. He’s on his stomach in a matter of seconds, arms stretched above his head, and the curve of his spine is so gorgeous that Annabeth itches for her sketchbook. His eyes are dark when he peers back over his shoulder.
“Is it okay if I jerk off?”
She nearly whimpers. “Yeah. Just don’t move around too much.”
Kneeling at the end of the bed, Annabeth feels like she’s standing in Ghirardelli’s, tempted by a thousand delicious things and knowing she can’t possibly eat them all. She decides to start at the top, crawling up beside Percy and mouthing at the first notch of his spine. His breath leaves him in a warm rush, and he gives a content little hum as she licks down the hollow between his shoulder blades.
His breathing gets louder as she sucks her way down his spine. Just the sound is enough to make her wet, and by the time he starts wriggling against the mattress, she has to bring a hand between her legs in order to concentrate.
When she gets halfway down, Annabeth sits back on her heels. “Hey, which is more sensitive, your Achilles spot or…”
Percy giggles at her hesitation. “My ass, but not by much. Nobody can kill me by stabbing me in the ass, so there’s that.”
Annabeth rolls her eyes. Percy has his head turned toward her, his face mushed against the pillow, and he slowly licks his lips.
“I can’t really do it to myself. The spot, I mean. And I certainly can’t do both at the same time.”
Something in his expression makes her breath catch. “Yeah. Okay.”
She gets up and positions herself behind him, her legs between his. He’s up on his knees, pulling slowly at his cock, and it pushes his ass into prominent view. Annabeth smiles and gives him a playful grope.
“Put your knees down a bit.”
He straightens his legs all the way, falling onto the mattress with a thump. “Fuck clean sheets,” he mumbles. “Literally, in this case.”
The idea of Percy rubbing against the mattress to get off makes Annabeth bite her lip. Starting where she left off, she licks a slow stripe down his back until Percy cries out. When Annabeth licks right across the spot, he whines and pushes his feet against the mattress.
She somehow thought he would taste different here, like how the briny smell of the ocean clings to him whenever he gets wet. But he just tastes like Percy, and Annabeth works him with her mouth until the skin is hot and pink and he’s trembling under her. She sucks hard on the spot, equal parts aroused and curious, and Percy’s hips jerk against the bed.
“Oh god,” he says, his voice broken and heated. “Annabeth, god.”
She lifts her head and sits back. Percy has a great ass, and she almost never gets to see it from this angle. She gives it a good squeeze, making him squirm.
“Okay, knees up.” Percy arches up like a cat and spreads wide for her. Any remaining hesitation burns away with a hot, prickling flush of need.
The first tentative prod of her tongue makes him gasp, and he clenches at the unexpected sensation. Annabeth licks across the tight ring of muscle, and he lets out a strangled moan, his thighs shaking under her hands.
As a son of the ocean god, Percy never really gets dirty. He tastes a little like salty seawater, and Annabeth isn’t nearly as put off as she’d expected. She licks a little more firmly, changing up the pace and the pressure like Percy does when he eats her out. She finds the rhythm that makes him shudder and slowly works him loose, feeling him twitch against her tongue. He keeps whining, a steady stream of desperate, gorgeous noises that make Annabeth’s neglected cunt throb.
She could probably make him come like this, but she’s not that patient. Percy makes a frustrated noise when she sits up, and she pets his back while she reaches for the lube, her fingers coming to rest right on his Achilles spot. He buries a broken moan in the pillow.
“Shh, it’s okay. I’m gonna take care of you. Just breathe.” He takes a deep, shuddering breath and lets it out, and warmth swells in Annabeth’s chest. He’s so limp and relaxed that she easily gets three fingers in, and he’s soon shoving his hips back, unconsciously fucking himself on her hand. Annabeth rubs the small of his back, and the constant stimulation has him absolutely shattered, writhing and panting and stroking himself painfully fast.
“It’s okay. You can come, Percy. I’m right here.”
He sobs when he comes, spasming around her fingers before collapsing boneless onto the bed. Annabeth comes about three seconds later, his breathing still loud in her ears. She slumps against the wall and waits for her head to clear.
“Sweet hellhounds in a hand-basket.” Percy has screamed himself hoarse, and his words come out slow and deliberate, like he’s had the speech fucked right out of him. It’s the best thing Annabeth has ever heard.
“Bit of a submissive streak, huh?” She crawls up and snuggles against his ribcage. “It means a lot that you trust me like that.”
“Total no-brainer.” He pulls his arm free and wraps it around Annabeth, playing with the strap of her tank top. “Does this mean I get to rim you now?”
Annabeth groans, but she definitely clenches up at the thought. “Maybe. Soon. I want to boss you around a bit first.”
Percy laughs. “So you like me on my knees? I can roll with that.” He flops onto his back, dragging Annabeth close and kissing the top of her head.
“I think you should get a strap-on,” he whispers, and that is the sweetest thing Annabeth has ever heard.
Rating: NC17
Pairing: Annabeth/Percy
Warnings: Spoilers for The Last Olympian, [(click to open)]Achilles spot porn, anal, rimming, complete and utter filthiness
A/N: I wrote this to blow off midterm steam. I've found two fics that tackle this subject, and while they were both great, two is clearly not enough. Completely disregards Heroes of Olympus.
The summer before senior year is an educational one for Annabeth. She gains thorough knowledge of New York’s architectural history. She learns that Sally Blofis refuses to clean house without Licensed to Ill playing in the background. She barely skims the surface of the intricate cultural tensions between Percy’s love of the Yankees and Paul’s dedication to the Mets, but she’s confident that for an outsider, she’s done her best.
Annabeth learns plenty of interesting things in Percy’s bed on rainy weekday mornings (and in the shower on sticky days when the power goes out, and against the kitchen counter on Paul and Sally’s date nights). For instance, Percy really likes it when she tops. The ratio is a little ridiculous, given how easily they both get bored. Still, given Percy’s absentmindedness and his attraction to forceful women, it wouldn’t exactly shock anyone.
No, the interesting thing is that Percy has a bossy streak, and it only comes out when he’s flat on his back with Annabeth riding him. She likes to drag things out, and it never takes long before he’s gripping her thighs and whining for her to go faster, come on, you’re so tight, I’m dying here. Sometimes he thrusts up hard enough to knock her off. It doesn’t hurt him when she smacks his chest, but it does shut him up.
On his back, Percy is mouthy and demanding and impatient. But when he’s on top, it’s slow and gentle. He strokes her hair rather than pulling it, presses all the way down so she can feel his heart slam against her body, whispers her name over and over like a prayer. He likes to look at her, staring down with awe and concern and overwhelming need. The face he makes when he comes on top of her is so naked and intimate that Annabeth shivers just thinking about it.
She has no experience except with Percy, but she knows there’s something backwards about it. She doesn’t put the pieces together until she ambushes him at the kitchen sink one night, sneaking up behind him and planting a kiss on the back of his neck.
“Holy hell!” Percy jumps about a foot in the air, flinging soap suds all over the counter. Annabeth giggles and wraps her arms around his chest.
“Relax, it’s just me. You startle too easily. Somebody could take advantage of that.”
She slides her hands under his shirt, just holding them against the warm skin of his stomach. He’s still breathing hard, but she can feel him relax the longer she stands there. By the time the dishes are done, Percy has melted back against her chest. He’s letting out little breathy hums that she usually hears when he’s just woken up, or when they’re spooning on the couch, or when he used to lean against a cabin wall and tug her close for a long, steamy goodnight kiss.
In short, whenever the small of his back is protected.
“Hey, Wiseass, can I have my ribcage back?”
His voice is gruff, and it makes Annabeth shiver. “No. I’m protecting you.”
Percy goes still. She stands on tiptoe and leans her hips into his lower back. He gasps, his head rolling back to expose his neck to her. She bites it, just because she can, then soothes the nonexistent sting with the soft press of her lips.
“Shh, I’ve got you,” she murmurs, and barely feels guilty for how much it turns her on.
*
The next time they have a night alone, she grabs Percy’s wrist on his way to the shower.
“Hey.” She blushes, even though they’ve had this conversation before. “Squeaky clean, okay?”
“Squeaky clean?” He slips his fingers through her belt loops and tugs her close. “Are you gonna get me dirty, Annabeth Chase?”
“Just do it, Seaweed Brain.”
He smirks and kisses her hand. “Fresh as a daisy for my fair maiden.”
She almost laughs at the irony. “Your maiden won’t be fair if you stall all night.”
Annabeth waits in his bedroom. Percy comes in wearing just a towel and scrubbing his hair dry, and he grins when he sees the lube.
“Remind me why we don’t do this every night.” He sits on the bed and kisses her, strong fingers working the tense muscles in her neck. Annabeth gasps before pulling back.
“I want to try something.”
He grins. “Awesome. What do you want to try?”
Annabeth suddenly can’t meet his eyes. It’s not the sex stuff-while the activity is a new one, Percy has never been less than thrilled to play around there. It’s the mental part that makes her feel ashamed, like she’s sick to want him weak and vulnerable. She shouldn’t be turned on by the one thing in the world that can kill him.
“Percy, do you trust me?”
He seems to pick up on her mood, because he curls a hand around the back of her neck and leans his forehead against hers. “To the ends of the world. You know that.”
“Enough to lie on your stomach?”
Percy takes a deep breath, then releases it.
“You do this thing,” he says, twirling her hair around his fingers. “You kind of read my mind sometimes. It’s a little creepy, but it usually results in the best sex ever.”
She sits back. “You figured it out too?”
He looks confused. “Yeah, pretty much right away. I’m surprised it took you this long.”
Carefully, Annabeth slides her fingers under the towel where it wraps around his sides. “What does it feel like?”
He takes a moment to think. “It’s like being naked. Any real weapon can slice through a t-shirt, but it’s different when you’re shirtless. It feels like everyone’s watching, looking for your weak spots. You have to trust the people around you not to…take advantage.”
His eyebrows waggle at the last two words, but he’s blushing a little. The idea that he wants this for the same reason she does is electric, but she can’t get carried away.
“Is it a good feeling? When you trust the person.” She brings her hand to his spine and strokes down a few inches. Percy squirms, and she’s going to die if she doesn’t get that towel off soon.
“Did I mention how fucking sensitive my back is now?”
Annabeth grins. “Lie down, and I’ll help you with that.”
There’s a difference between bossy and authoritative, she realizes. All those times he topped, trusting her to watch his exposed back, he never obeyed her with this kind of efficiency. He’s on his stomach in a matter of seconds, arms stretched above his head, and the curve of his spine is so gorgeous that Annabeth itches for her sketchbook. His eyes are dark when he peers back over his shoulder.
“Is it okay if I jerk off?”
She nearly whimpers. “Yeah. Just don’t move around too much.”
Kneeling at the end of the bed, Annabeth feels like she’s standing in Ghirardelli’s, tempted by a thousand delicious things and knowing she can’t possibly eat them all. She decides to start at the top, crawling up beside Percy and mouthing at the first notch of his spine. His breath leaves him in a warm rush, and he gives a content little hum as she licks down the hollow between his shoulder blades.
His breathing gets louder as she sucks her way down his spine. Just the sound is enough to make her wet, and by the time he starts wriggling against the mattress, she has to bring a hand between her legs in order to concentrate.
When she gets halfway down, Annabeth sits back on her heels. “Hey, which is more sensitive, your Achilles spot or…”
Percy giggles at her hesitation. “My ass, but not by much. Nobody can kill me by stabbing me in the ass, so there’s that.”
Annabeth rolls her eyes. Percy has his head turned toward her, his face mushed against the pillow, and he slowly licks his lips.
“I can’t really do it to myself. The spot, I mean. And I certainly can’t do both at the same time.”
Something in his expression makes her breath catch. “Yeah. Okay.”
She gets up and positions herself behind him, her legs between his. He’s up on his knees, pulling slowly at his cock, and it pushes his ass into prominent view. Annabeth smiles and gives him a playful grope.
“Put your knees down a bit.”
He straightens his legs all the way, falling onto the mattress with a thump. “Fuck clean sheets,” he mumbles. “Literally, in this case.”
The idea of Percy rubbing against the mattress to get off makes Annabeth bite her lip. Starting where she left off, she licks a slow stripe down his back until Percy cries out. When Annabeth licks right across the spot, he whines and pushes his feet against the mattress.
She somehow thought he would taste different here, like how the briny smell of the ocean clings to him whenever he gets wet. But he just tastes like Percy, and Annabeth works him with her mouth until the skin is hot and pink and he’s trembling under her. She sucks hard on the spot, equal parts aroused and curious, and Percy’s hips jerk against the bed.
“Oh god,” he says, his voice broken and heated. “Annabeth, god.”
She lifts her head and sits back. Percy has a great ass, and she almost never gets to see it from this angle. She gives it a good squeeze, making him squirm.
“Okay, knees up.” Percy arches up like a cat and spreads wide for her. Any remaining hesitation burns away with a hot, prickling flush of need.
The first tentative prod of her tongue makes him gasp, and he clenches at the unexpected sensation. Annabeth licks across the tight ring of muscle, and he lets out a strangled moan, his thighs shaking under her hands.
As a son of the ocean god, Percy never really gets dirty. He tastes a little like salty seawater, and Annabeth isn’t nearly as put off as she’d expected. She licks a little more firmly, changing up the pace and the pressure like Percy does when he eats her out. She finds the rhythm that makes him shudder and slowly works him loose, feeling him twitch against her tongue. He keeps whining, a steady stream of desperate, gorgeous noises that make Annabeth’s neglected cunt throb.
She could probably make him come like this, but she’s not that patient. Percy makes a frustrated noise when she sits up, and she pets his back while she reaches for the lube, her fingers coming to rest right on his Achilles spot. He buries a broken moan in the pillow.
“Shh, it’s okay. I’m gonna take care of you. Just breathe.” He takes a deep, shuddering breath and lets it out, and warmth swells in Annabeth’s chest. He’s so limp and relaxed that she easily gets three fingers in, and he’s soon shoving his hips back, unconsciously fucking himself on her hand. Annabeth rubs the small of his back, and the constant stimulation has him absolutely shattered, writhing and panting and stroking himself painfully fast.
“It’s okay. You can come, Percy. I’m right here.”
He sobs when he comes, spasming around her fingers before collapsing boneless onto the bed. Annabeth comes about three seconds later, his breathing still loud in her ears. She slumps against the wall and waits for her head to clear.
“Sweet hellhounds in a hand-basket.” Percy has screamed himself hoarse, and his words come out slow and deliberate, like he’s had the speech fucked right out of him. It’s the best thing Annabeth has ever heard.
“Bit of a submissive streak, huh?” She crawls up and snuggles against his ribcage. “It means a lot that you trust me like that.”
“Total no-brainer.” He pulls his arm free and wraps it around Annabeth, playing with the strap of her tank top. “Does this mean I get to rim you now?”
Annabeth groans, but she definitely clenches up at the thought. “Maybe. Soon. I want to boss you around a bit first.”
Percy laughs. “So you like me on my knees? I can roll with that.” He flops onto his back, dragging Annabeth close and kissing the top of her head.
“I think you should get a strap-on,” he whispers, and that is the sweetest thing Annabeth has ever heard.