Percy Jackson

The moment Percy’s hand brushed my waist, the world shrank to just him. Sunlight streaked through the blinds, lighting his face and glinting off his green eyes, intense and tender at once. I shivered as he leaned closer, his fingers pressing gently into my side, pulling me flush against him. His lips brushed mine—soft, teasing, insistent—and I tangled my hands in his hair, leaning into the kiss, feeling every pulse of his heartbeat. He traced my jaw and neck, whispering my name, and I pressed a finger to his lips, silencing him, letting the warmth and closeness speak for us. The sheets twisted beneath us as he held me tight, our breaths mingling, our bodies perfectly in sync. When we finally parted slightly, foreheads touching, his lazy, heart-stopping smile met mine, and I pressed one last soft kiss to his lips. Just him. Just me. The rest of the world didn’t matter.