lately, percy had been good about his jealousy problems, really fucking good, but today? no longer! because how could he sit there and watch as an ares kid ogled (looked at you for longer than a few seconds) and fondled any of the skin you had exposed (you just so happened to be wearing a tank top when he put a hand on your shoulder).

percy wasn’t having it anymore, so when he saw the opportunity to get you alone. he took it. that’s how you got here, with percy flopped over you in his cabin as he marks up your neck, shoulders, and collarbone, with kisses.

“mine.” he growls, sucking a particularly dark bruise along your neck. “my pretty girl, not his, fucking mine!”