Part 2!
I groaned. "Can we maybe wait until she's in college? Or never? Never works for me."
"Percy."
"Fine. But I'm not taking her to Olympus until she can at least hold her head up. Those gods have zero baby-proofing."
Malika laughed again, and this time it sounded more like her. Warm. Real. The laugh that made me fall for her in the first place.
"I was thinking," she said slowly, "maybe we should have a proper naming ceremony. At the beach. Introduce her to the ocean."
My heart did this weird flip-flop thing. "Like... a baptism?"
"Sort of. But more... us. Half-Blood style. With the people who matter."
I thought about it. About Thalassa's name—the sea—and how right it would feel to have her toes touch the water for the first time. To feel the power in her blood wake up. To let her know where she came from.
"I think that sounds perfect," I said. "As long as there are no prophecies. I'm putting a strict 'no prophecies until she's at least sixteen' rule in place."
"Deal." Malika yawned, finally letting exhaustion catch up. "Though knowing our luck..."
"Don't even say it," I warned, guiding her toward our bed. "Come on. Sleep. Before she realizes we're having fun without her."
As if on cue, Thalassa's eyes fluttered open—sea green, just like mine—and she made that little sound that meant the world was about to get very loud again.
I scooped her up before Malika could move. "I got her. You sleep."
Malika didn't argue, which told me just how tired she really was. She just nodded, crawled under the covers, and watched us with half-lidded eyes.
"Hey, little wave," I whispered, bouncing Thalassa gently as I walked her around the cabin. "How's it going? Ocean good? Dreams good? No monsters yet, right? Because let me tell you, you've got plenty of time for those."
She blinked up at me, serious and solemn, like she was considering whether or not to scream the roof down.
"You know," I continued, my voice low, "your mom is the bravest person I've ever met. And that's saying something, because I know some pretty brave people. But her? She's something else. And you're lucky, because you're gonna grow up with that. With her heart."
Thalassa made a little gurgle that I chose to interpret as agreement.
"And me? Well, I'm still figuring this whole dad thing out. But I promise you this—" I held her a little closer, feeling her tiny heartbeat against mine. "The sea doesn't like to be restrained. And neither will you. But no matter how far you go, or how wild you become, we'll always be your harbor. Always."
I glanced over at Malika, already asleep, her curls spilling across the pillow like ink in water.
"We'll be okay," I whispered, and for once in my chaotic, monster-hunting, world-saving life, I actually believed it.
Because we were just us.
But maybe that was enough.
I've faced down the Minotaur, bathed in the River Styx, and held up the literal sky, but nothing—and I mean NOTHING—prepared me for the absolute terror of my first diaper change.
"Percy, you look like you're about to defuse a bomb," Annabeth said, leaning against the doorframe with her arms crossed, trying not to laugh at me.
Malika was napping—her first real sleep in days—and Annabeth had volunteered to show me the ropes of baby care. You know, since I was somehow still alive after eighteen years despite my best efforts to die heroically, she figured I could handle this too.
"I mean, it kind of is a bomb," I muttered, staring down at Thalassa who was kicking her tiny legs on the changing table, looking far too pleased with herself for someone who'd just created a disaster zone in her diaper.
"You've literally fought monsters with your bare hands," Annabeth reminded me.
"Monsters don't have... girl parts," I whispered the last words like they were a secret password. "I don't want to hurt her. Or do it wrong. Or traumatize her for life."
Annabeth sighed, the way she always did when I was being particularly dense. "She's not going to remember this, Seaweed Brain. But she will definitely remember if you leave her sitting in a dirty diaper because you're too scared to change it."
"Fair point," I admitted, taking a deep breath. "Okay. Walk me through this. Step by step. Like we're disarming that bomb."
"First, get everything ready before you start," Annabeth said, suddenly all business. She'd researched this, of course. Probably read seventeen books on proper diaper-changing technique. "New diaper open and ready, wipes, cream if she needs it."
I fumbled with the supplies, dropping the wipes twice before getting everything lined up.
"Now, undo the tabs on the old diaper," she continued.
I did, wincing at what I found underneath. "Oh gods."
"Don't be dramatic. Just lift her legs by the ankles—gently—and use the front of the diaper to wipe the worst of it off."
I froze. "That's a thing? Using the diaper to wipe?"
"Yes, Percy. It's efficient. Don't waste seventeen wipes when the diaper can do the first pass."
I followed her instructions, feeling like I was performing surgery.
"Now, fold the dirty diaper under her, clean side up," Annabeth directed. "It creates a barrier between her and the changing pad while you finish cleaning."
"You're scary good at this," I muttered, doing as told.
"I like to be prepared for all contingencies."
When it came time for the actual cleaning part, I hesitated again. "So for girls... there's like... a specific way, right?"
Annabeth's expression softened. "Front to back, always. Just be gentle but thorough. Think of it like... cleaning a delicate artifact."
"That's not helping!"
"Fine. Think of it as... keeping the ocean clean. You want to avoid contamination between different areas."
That actually made more sense to my ocean-wired brain. "Got it."
I took a wipe and carefully cleaned Thalassa, who was now making gurgling noises like she found my discomfort hilarious.
"Remember to get in all the creases," Annabeth added. "Legs, behind the knees—"
"There's poop behind her KNEES? How does that even happen?" I yelped.
"Babies are magical that way," Annabeth said dryly. "Now put a thin layer of cream if there's any redness."
I dabbed on some cream, feeling slightly more confident. "Okay, new diaper time."
"Slide the clean one under her before you remove the dirty one completely," Annabeth advised. "That way if she decides to go again mid-change, you're covered."
"That can happen?" I asked, horrified.
"Percy, you have no idea what you're in for."
I slid the fresh diaper under Thalassa, who was now full-on giggling at me. I swear she knew exactly what she was doing.
"Make sure the ruffles on the legs are out, not tucked in," Annabeth continued. "That prevents leaks."
"There are ruffles? Why doesn't this thing come with instructions?" I complained, carefully pulling out the tiny frills around Thalassa's thighs.
"Now bring the front up between her legs, and fasten the tabs. Not too tight, not too loose. You should be able to fit two fingers comfortably at the waist."
I secured the tabs, then looked up at Annabeth proudly. "Did it!"
"Now check your work," she said, gesturing for me to lift Thalassa up.
I did, and to my horror, there was a gap at the back where her tiny butt wasn't fully covered. "What did I do wrong?"
"You didn't pull it up high enough in the back," Annabeth explained. "The diaper should cover from belly button to mid-back, basically."
I laid Thalassa down again, readjusted the diaper, and finally got it right.
"See? Not so bad," Annabeth said as I carefully lifted my daughter up, cradling her against my chest.
"Only took me twenty minutes and nearly having a heart attack," I muttered.
Thalassa reached up and patted my cheek with her tiny hand, like she was saying, "You'll get better, Dad."
Later that night, when Malika was feeding Thalassa, I proudly announced, "I changed a diaper today. All by myself."
She looked at me with those honey-amber eyes, half-amused, half-impressed. "How many wipes did you use?"
"Only like... twelve."
She laughed. "That's actually better than my first time. I used half the package."
"Really?"
"Really," she confirmed. "We're figuring this out together, remember?"
I leaned over and kissed her forehead, then Thalassa's. "Yeah. Together."
"Although," Malika added with a smirk, "you might want to practice your technique. Because I heard from Annabeth that you looked like you were trying to disarm a nuclear weapon."
I groaned. "I'm never living this down, am I?"
"Not a chance, Jackson," she said, but her smile was soft. "Not a chance."
Let me tell you something they don't put in those baby books—something that Annabeth's color-coded sticky notes definitely glossed over: having a newborn is basically relationship kryptonite.
It had been exactly three weeks since Thalassa came home to our cabin. Three weeks of sleepless nights, constant diaper changes, and approximately zero moments alone with Malika. And when I say zero, I mean I couldn't even brush my teeth without a tiny human monitor screeching like a baby harpy in the background.
Don't get me wrong—I loved our daughter with every cell in my body. But I also really, really missed my girlfriend.
It was past midnight. Thalassa had finally fallen asleep after what felt like an Olympic-level rocking session. I'd placed her carefully in her crib, backing away like she was an armed explosive (which, honestly, wasn't far off).
Malika was already in bed, her curls spilling across the pillow. But for once, she wasn't passed out from exhaustion. Her eyes were open, watching me with this look that sent electricity down my spine—the kind Zeus himself would be jealous of.
"Hey," she whispered, patting the space beside her.
"Hey yourself," I whispered back, trying to sound cool while my heart did a gymnastics routine in my chest.
I slid under the covers next to her, hyper-aware of her warmth, the scent of her skin. It had been so long since we'd been close like this—just us. No baby spit-up. No diaper discussions. Just Malika and Percy, the way it used to be.
She rolled toward me, her hand finding my chest. "I think she's actually asleep," she murmured. "Like, really asleep."
"Don't jinx it," I breathed, but I was already pulling her closer, my fingers tangling in her hair.
When she kissed me, it felt like coming home. Like finding something I'd lost. Her lips were soft, eager, and I could feel the tension of the past three weeks melting away.
"I've missed you," she whispered against my mouth, and gods, those words nearly undid me.
"I've missed you too," I managed to say. "So much."
Her hands slid under my t-shirt, warm against my skin, and I forgot how to breathe. It had been so long since we'd touched like this—since before Thalassa was born. Before our world tilted on its axis and rebuilt itself around a tiny, demanding human.
"Are you sure?" I asked, because consent is sexy, kids. Always.
She nodded, her eyes locked on mine. "I'm sure. The doctor said it's okay now."
That was all I needed to hear. I kissed her again, deeper this time, letting my hands wander over curves I knew by heart but somehow felt new again. Her body had changed—creating and nurturing our daughter had left its marks—but gods, she was more beautiful to me than ever.
"You're amazing," I murmured against her neck. "Do you know that? You're literally the most incredible person I've ever met."
She laughed softly, the sound vibrating against my lips. "Flattery will get you everywhere, Jackson."
"That's the plan," I grinned, as she tugged at the hem of my shirt.
Things were heating up. Like, serious temperature rising, brain-melting levels of heat. My shirt hit the floor, followed quickly by hers. Her skin against mine felt like electricity and calm all at once. The world narrowed down to just us—our breathing, our heartbeats, the soft sounds she made when I kissed that spot just below her ear.
And then it happened.
From across the room came the sound. The dreaded sound. A whimper, then a full-throated wail that could probably be heard all the way on Olympus.
We both froze, lips still pressed together, eyes flying open.
"No," Malika groaned, dropping her forehead against my shoulder. "No, no, no."
"Maybe she'll stop?" I suggested hopefully, even as the crying intensified to what I can only describe as "banshee meets fire alarm."
We stayed frozen for about ten more seconds, clinging to the desperate hope that Thalassa would somehow, miraculously, soothe herself back to sleep.
She did not.
"I fed her an hour ago," Malika sighed, already reaching for her discarded shirt. "It's probably a diaper."
"I'll get her," I said, pressing one last kiss to her lips before rolling out of bed and grabbing my shirt.
I walked over to the crib, where Thalassa was performing her best impression of a siren. "Hey, little wave," I whispered, lifting her carefully. "Your timing is terrible. You know that, right?"
She continued to wail, her tiny face scrunched up in what I can only describe as righteous indignation.
"Yep, diaper," I confirmed, wrinkling my nose as I carried her to the changing table.
Malika flopped back on the bed, throwing an arm over her eyes. "We're never going to have sex again, are we?"
"Sure we will," I said, expertly laying Thalassa down and unfastening her onesie. "When she's in college."
Malika's laugh was half amusement, half frustration. "That's only eighteen years away."
"Seventeen years and forty-nine weeks," I corrected, carefully wiping Thalassa's bottom and securing a fresh diaper. "But who's counting?"
Once changed, Thalassa calmed down almost immediately, blinking up at me with innocent eyes like she hadn't just committed the most effective mood-killing maneuver of all time.
"You did that on purpose, didn't you?" I asked her, narrowing my eyes suspiciously.
She gurgled in response, which I chose to interpret as "Sorry not sorry, Dad."
I brought her back to the bed, where Malika had abandoned any pretense of us resuming our earlier activities and was now sitting cross-legged in her pajamas.
"I swear she has radar," Malika said, reaching for our daughter. "Like some kind of parent-pleasure-detection system."
"Probably an Aphrodite thing," I suggested, sliding back under the covers. "Your mom making sure we don't have any siblings for her too soon."
Malika laughed, cuddling Thalassa against her chest. "My mom would definitely do that."
We sat in comfortable silence for a moment, watching our daughter's eyelids start to droop again. The moment was broken, but something else had taken its place—something just as intimate in its own way.
"Rain check?" I asked softly, brushing a curl from Malika's face.
She smiled, leaning over to kiss me gently. "Rain check. Maybe we can ask Annabeth to babysit for an hour sometime."
"An hour?" I raised an eyebrow. "I'm offended. I need at least two."
"Optimistic," she teased.
"I prefer to think of it as ambitious."
Thalassa was fully asleep again, her tiny chest rising and falling steadily. Malika carefully placed her back in the crib, and we both held our breath as she settled.
When we were sure she wasn't going to wake up again, we crawled back into bed, exhausted in more ways than one.
"For the record," I whispered, pulling Malika against me, "you're still the hottest mom at Camp Half-Blood."
"I'm the only mom at Camp Half-Blood," she pointed out.
"Exactly. No competition."
She laughed quietly, nestling into my side. "I love you, Percy Jackson. Even if our daughter is determined to keep us celibate for the next decade."
"I love you too," I said, kissing the top of her head. "And hey, there's always naptime."
"Naptime," she agreed drowsily, already half-asleep. "It's a date."
I lay awake a little longer, holding her, listening to the soft sounds of my little family breathing. Sure, our moment had been ruined. But as I drifted off to sleep, I couldn't help thinking that this—this messy, interrupted, exhausting life we'd created—was worth more than all the uninterrupted moments in the world.
Even if my teenage hormones vehemently disagreed.
Two months, sixteen days, and approximately forty-seven failed attempts later, it finally happened.
My mom—bless her eternal soul—had offered to take Thalassa for a whole night. A WHOLE NIGHT. Not just an hour for a quick coffee run. Not just for dinner. An entire night from sunset to sunrise.
When she suggested it, I nearly cried.
"Are you sure?" Malika had asked, bouncing our daughter on her hip. "She still wakes up at least twice a night."
"Percy woke up four times a night until he was eight months old," my mom replied with that knowing smile. "I think I can handle it."
So there we were, standing in our cabin, alone. ALONE. The silence was so thick you could practically swim in it. No baby monitor. No tiny human making dinosaur noises from the corner. Just us.
"So," I said, rubbing the back of my neck. "This is weird, right?"
Malika laughed, and gods, that sound still made my heart do backflips. "Super weird. I keep thinking I hear her crying."
"Phantom baby syndrome," I nodded. "It's a thing. I looked it up."
We stood there awkwardly for another moment, and I had this bizarre realization: we'd forgotten how to be just us. For months, we'd been Mom and Dad first, Malika and Percy second. Or third. Or sometimes not at all.
"We should probably..." Malika gestured vaguely toward the bed.
"Right now?" I asked, eyes widening. "I mean, I thought maybe dinner first? Or a walk on the beach? Or—"
She cut me off with a laugh. "Percy Jackson, are you nervous?"
"What? No!" I protested, then immediately caved. "Maybe a little? It's been a while, and you're still like, the most beautiful person I've ever seen, and I don't want to mess this up, and—"
This time she cut me off with a kiss, rising on her tiptoes and pressing her lips to mine in a way that effectively short-circuited my brain.
"I've missed you," she whispered against my mouth. "Just you. Just us."
And just like that, the awkwardness melted away. Because beneath the spit-up stains and dark circles and parent-brain, we were still us. Still Malika and Percy. Still in love in that ridiculous, impossible way that had somehow created Thalassa in the first place.
I pulled her closer, and the kiss deepened into something hungry, desperate. Her hands found my hair, tugging just enough to make me groan. Mine slid down her back, remembering curves I'd missed exploring.
"Wait," I gasped, pulling back just enough to see her face. "Dinner. I was going to do this right. Romance you properly."
Her eyes—those honey-amber eyes that still made me forget how to breathe—sparkled with mischief. "We have all night, Jackson. Plenty of time for dinner..." She pressed a kiss to my jaw. "...after."
Well. When she put it like that.
I lifted her, her legs wrapping around my waist as I carried her to our bed—our actual bed, not the lumpy camp cot we'd been sharing next to Thalassa's crib. She laughed as we fell onto the mattress, a tangle of limbs and want and pent-up everything.
"I've really, really missed you," I murmured, trailing kisses down her neck.
"Show me how much," she challenged, her hands already finding the hem of my shirt.
What happened next was, well, private. But let's just say we made excellent use of our child-free night. Twice. And then once more for good measure.
Afterward, we lay tangled in sheets, her head on my chest, my fingers tracing patterns on her bare shoulder. The cabin was quiet except for our breathing, gradually slowing back to normal.
"So," I said, pressing a kiss to her forehead. "Dinner?"
She laughed, the sound vibrating against my skin. "Now you're thinking about food?"
"Hey, heroic efforts require sustenance," I defended. "Plus, I actually had plans. Romantic ones."
Malika propped herself up on one elbow, looking down at me with that soft, fond expression that always made me feel ten feet tall. "Oh really? Percy Jackson had romantic plans? Do tell."
"Well," I said, tucking a curl behind her ear, "I was going to take you to that spot on the beach—you know, where we had our first real date? The little cove past the dunes?"
Her expression softened. "I remember."
"I asked the Demeter kids to help me set up a picnic there. Nothing fancy, just blankets and those little sandwiches you like, and some of that sparkling cider because, you know, technically we're still not twenty-one."
"You did all that?" she asked, surprise coloring her voice.
I nodded. "And I may have convinced some naiads to do a little water show. Nothing too showy—just some fountain action. Maybe a heart shape, if they were feeling generous."
"Percy," she breathed, and the way she said my name made me want to start all over again.
"The plan was dinner at sunset, then stargazing, then... well, this," I gestured between us. "But I guess we got the order a little mixed up."
She laughed, leaning down to kiss me softly. "I love that you planned all that."
"We can still go," I offered. "The night is young. The sandwiches are probably still good."
She pretended to consider it, then shook her head. "Counterproposal: we order pizza, eat it in this bed, and then maybe go for round four?"
I grinned, pulling her back down beside me. "This is why you're the brains of this operation."
She snuggled against me, and I felt that familiar sensation of home—the one I only ever felt with her. "Pizza it is. And Percy?"
"Yeah?"
"Thank you."
"For what?"
She looked up at me, and there was something in her eyes—something deep and real and a little bit vulnerable. "For still wanting me. After everything. After my body changed, after I turned into a milk machine, after you've seen me covered in every possible baby fluid..."
I kissed her, hard, before she could finish that thought. "Malika Raynor," I said, pulling back just enough to meet her gaze, "I will want you when we're ninety and wrinkled and probably still covered in some kind of bodily fluid, knowing our luck."
She laughed, tears shining in her eyes. "You promise?"
"On the River Styx," I said solemnly. "And on Thalassa's tiny head. And on my extensive collection of blue food."
"Well, if you're swearing on the blue food, then I know you're serious," she teased.
I was about to respond with something hopefully witty when my stomach growled. Loudly. Like, angry-Hellhound loudly.
Malika dissolved into giggles. "Pizza. Now. Before you waste away."
I reached for the phone, dialing the number I'd memorized during late-night feedings. "One large with everything for the heroic dad," I ordered, "and one medium veggie with extra olives for the most beautiful mom at Camp Half-Blood."
"Still the only mom," she reminded me, stretching languidly beneath the sheets.
"And still the most beautiful," I countered, hanging up. "Pizza in thirty minutes."
She smiled, a slow, mischievous smile that still made my breath catch. "Whatever shall we do with thirty whole minutes?"
I pulled her closer, marveling at how even after everything, she still felt like a miracle in my arms.
"I have a few ideas," I murmured.
And this time, there was no baby cry to interrupt us.
We’d just demolished the pizza—empty boxes tossed on the floor of our Camp Half-Blood cabin like the teenagers we still were—when my phone buzzed. I groaned, burying my face in Malika’s hair.
“Shit, if that’s my mom saying Thalassa needs us, I might actually lose it,” I muttered.
BUZZ. BUZZ.
Malika laughed, reaching across my chest to grab the phone, her breasts brushing against me in a way that made my breath catch. “Relax, it’s just a picture,” she said, holding it up.
It was Thalassa, completely passed out in my mom’s arms, tiny fist curled against her cheek, looking more angelic than she ever did with us at the cabin.
“How does your mom do that?” Malika asked, squinting at the screen. “She looks like an actual angel. With us she’s like a tiny vengeance demon from Tartarus.”
“Mom magic,” I said, taking the phone and typing a quick thank you. “Pretty sure it’s more powerful than Aphrodite magic at this point.”
CLINK – I tossed the phone onto the nightstand.
“She’s okay,” Malika sighed, and I heard the relief in her voice. “She’s really okay without us.”
I pulled her closer, skin against skin, her warmth seeping into me like sunlight. “Of course she is. She’s ours, isn’t she? Resilient is basically her factory setting.”
Malika snuggled against me, and I felt her body truly relax for the first time in months. The constant alert-for-baby tension melted from her shoulders. “So we really have the whole night?”
“The whole night,” I confirmed, my fingers tracing lazy circles on her bare skin. “No diaper changes. No midnight feedings. Just us.”
Her eyes met mine, and the look in them sent heat spiraling through my entire body. “In that case,” she murmured, her voice dropping to that low, husky tone that still made me feel like I was drowning in the best possible way, “we should make the most of it.”
She kissed me, not gentle this time, but hungry and demanding. Her hands were everywhere—in my hair, on my chest, sliding lower until she wrapped her fingers around my already hard c**k. I responded instantly, pulling her on top of me so she straddled my hips, her curls falling around us like a curtain.
“Gods, I’ve missed you,” I breathed, taking in the sight of her—naked, flushed, perfect.
“Show me how much,” she challenged, grinding her wet p***y against me and making us both gasp.
RUSTLE – The sheets shifting beneath us.
I sat up, keeping her in my lap, and kissed her deeply, my tongue sliding against hers. She moaned into my mouth, a sound that went straight to my groin. My hands found her breasts, fuller now after Thalassa, and she arched into my touch as I rolled her nipples between my fingers.
“Fuck, Percy,” she gasped as my mouth replaced my fingers, tongue swirling around the sensitive peak.
“Careful,” I teased, my lips moving to her neck. “Last time you said that, we ended up with a baby.”
She laughed, the sound dissolving into a groan as I sucked at the sensitive spot just below her ear. “Worth it,” she managed, grinding harder against me.
I flipped us over, pinning her beneath me, and took my time exploring her body—kissing, licking, biting gently at all the places I knew drove her wild. Her skin tasted like salt and honey, familiar and intoxicating.
When I moved lower, settling between her thighs, she clutched at the sheets, her breath coming fast.
“Percy,” she whimpered as my tongue found her center, licking a long stripe through her wet folds.
GASP – Sharp intake of breath.
“I’ve got you,” I murmured against her cl*t, feeling her shudder as I circled the sensitive bud with my tongue.
I took my time, remembering exactly how she liked to be touched, the rhythm that would build her up slowly then all at once. I slipped a finger inside her, then two, curling them to hit that spot that made her see stars. Her thighs trembled on either side of my head, her hands found my hair, tugging just enough to hurt in the best way.
“Oh gods, oh fuck, Percy—” Her voice broke as she peaked, her back arching off the bed, a stream of curses and my name falling from her lips like a prayer.
Before she could come down completely, I moved up her body, positioning myself at her entrance. Our eyes locked, and in that moment, it wasn’t just about sex—it was everything. All the fear, all the exhaustion, all the love we’d built in these impossible months as teen parents.
“Please,” she whispered, wrapping her legs around my waist.
I pushed into her slowly, inch by inch, both of us groaning at the sensation of finally being connected again. “Fuck, you feel amazing,” I breathed, forcing myself to hold still for a moment, giving her time to adjust to the feeling of me filling her completely.
CREAK – The bedframe protesting beneath us.
“Move,” she commanded, digging her heels into my lower back.
I did, setting a rhythm that started slow and deliberate but quickly turned desperate. The wet sounds of our bodies coming together filled the cabin, mixed with our heavy breathing and soft moans. Her nails raked down my back, leaving trails of fire in their wake. The sounds she made—half-gasps, half-moans—drove me wild, pushing me to go deeper, harder.
“Yes, gods, right there,” she panted, her eyes half-closed, lips parted. “Harder, Percy, please—”
I shifted the angle slightly, hitting that spot inside her that I knew would send her over the edge again. Her eyes flew open, meeting mine with an intensity that nearly undid me.
“Come with me,” she gasped, and I could feel her p***y tightening around me, pulsing with her approaching orgasm.
“Always,” I promised, my rhythm faltering as we both spiraled toward release.
When it hit, it was like being struck by Zeus’s lightning bolt and swept away by Poseidon’s waves all at once. We clung to each other, riding out the storm of sensation, her name torn from my throat as I emptied myself inside her.
THUD – Headboard hitting the wall.
After, we lay tangled and sweaty, catching our breath. Malika’s head rested on my chest, her curls tickling my chin, her hand over my heart. I could feel it hammering against my ribs, like it was trying to reach for hers.
“Holy shit,” she murmured eventually.
“Yeah,” I agreed eloquently.
She propped herself up on one elbow to look at me, moonlight catching in her eyes like trapped stars. “I think I forgot.”
“Forgot what?”
“How good we are at that,” she laughed, pressing a kiss to my chest. “Or maybe we just got better with practice.”
“Trial by fucking fire,” I agreed, running a hand down her spine. “Nothing puts pressure on your sex life like a ticking baby time bomb.”
“True,” she said, trailing her fingers down my stomach, making my muscles twitch. “But it’s more than that, isn’t it? It’s different now.”
I knew exactly what she meant. “Yeah. It’s like… I don’t know. More intense?”
“More everything,” she agreed, settling back against me. “Like, we made a whole person together. That’s…”
“Terrifying as hell?” I suggested.
“I was going to say incredible, but yeah, that too.”
We lay in comfortable silence for a while, just breathing together. I could feel sleep tugging at the edges of my consciousness, but I fought it. These moments—just us, just quiet—were too fucking rare to waste on something as mundane as sleep.
WHOOSH – Wind against the cabin windows.
“Hey,” Malika said suddenly, her voice thoughtful. “Do you ever wonder what she’ll be like? When she’s older, I mean.”
I smiled into the darkness. “All the damn time. I’m betting on your brains and my ability to find trouble in literally any situation.”
“Poor kid doesn’t stand a chance,” Malika laughed.
“I think she’ll be brave,” I said, more seriously. “And kind. And probably stubborn as Hades.”
“With our genes? Definitely stubborn,” Malika agreed. “I hope she gets your loyalty. And your heart.”
“Nah, that’s all you,” I countered, kissing her forehead. “Your compassion. Your fire.”
Malika was quiet for a moment. “Do you think we’re doing okay? As parents, I mean.”
The vulnerability in her voice made my chest ache. “I think we’re figuring it out,” I said honestly. “Day by day. Making shit up as we go. Maybe that’s all anyone does, you know? Even the real grown-ups.”
“We are grown-ups, Percy,” she reminded me, but I could hear the smile in her voice.
“Says who?” I challenged, rolling us over so I was propped above her, grinning down at her surprised face. “Last I checked, grown-ups don’t do this—”
I tickled her ribs, right where I knew she was most sensitive, and she shrieked with laughter, trying to squirm away.
SQUEAL – High-pitched laughter filling the room.
“Percy Jackson!” she gasped between giggles. “Stop it right now or I swear to all the fucking gods—”
I silenced her with a kiss, which quickly turned from playful to something else entirely. Her hands slid down my back, grabbing my ass and pulling me closer, and just like that, the fire reignited.
“Again?” she whispered against my lips, feeling me harden against her thigh.
“We have the whole night,” I reminded her, trailing kisses down her throat, feeling her pulse flutter beneath my lips. “And I plan to make the most of every fucking minute.”
She smiled up at me, that smile that still made my heart skip beats even after all this time, all we’d been through. “I love you, Percy Jackson.”
“I love you too, Malika Raynor,” I whispered back. “Always.”
RUSTLE – Bodies shifting against sheets.
I kissed her deeply, then began a slow journey down her body—lingering at her breasts, her ribs, the soft curve of her stomach where stretch marks traced silvery paths. She watched me, her breath catching as I kissed each mark like they were sacred.
“You’re so beautiful,” I murmured against her skin. “Every inch of you.”
“Even these?” she asked, gesturing to the marks.
“Especially these,” I said fiercely. “Battle scars from the most important fight we’ve ever won.”
Her eyes glistened in the moonlight, and she pulled me back up to kiss me—hard and desperate and full of everything she couldn’t say.
This time, she pushed me onto my back and straddled me, taking control. I watched, mesmerized, as she positioned herself above me, slowly sinking down onto my c**k. The sight of her—head thrown back, breasts bouncing, taking her pleasure as she rode me—was almost enough to make me come right then.
“Fuck, Malika,” I groaned, gripping her hips to help guide her movements.
She leaned forward, changing the angle, her hands braced on my chest. “You like watching me like this?” she asked, voice breathy but confident.
“Gods, yes,” I managed, transfixed by the sight of my c**k disappearing inside her with each movement of her hips.
She smiled, a wicked curve of her lips that sent shivers down my spine. “Good,” she whispered, circling her hips in a way that made us both moan. “Because I love the way you feel inside me.”
MOAN – Low, throaty sounds of pleasure.
I reached between us, my thumb finding her cl*t, rubbing slow circles that made her rhythm falter. “Percy,” she gasped, her movements becoming more erratic.
“That’s it,” I encouraged, watching her face as pleasure built. “Let go for me, baby.”
When she came, it was with my name on her lips, her inner walls clenching around me in waves that pulled my own orgasm from me. I thrust up into her, holding her hips tight against mine as I pulsed inside her, both of us crying out.
THUMP – Hearts beating in sync.
She collapsed against my chest, both of us breathing hard. I wrapped my arms around her, holding her close as aftershocks rippled through us.
“Holy Hera,” she panted, pressing a kiss to my shoulder. “That was…”
“Mind-blowing?” I suggested, running my fingers through her tangled curls.
“Something like that,” she agreed with a soft laugh.
We shifted to our sides, still tangled together, unwilling to break the connection just yet. I traced lazy patterns on her back, feeling the thin sheen of sweat cooling on her skin.
“I’ve missed this,” she murmured, her voice heavy with approaching sleep. “Just being us.”
“Me too,” I confessed, kissing her forehead. “Though I wouldn’t trade Thalassa for anything.”
“Of course not,” she agreed immediately. “But it’s nice to remember we’re not just parents. We’re still Percy and Malika.”
“Always,” I promised, pulling her closer.
We drifted into sleep, wrapped in each other and the quiet of the night.
CHIRP – Morning birds outside the cabin.
The sunlight painted Malika’s skin gold as she slept beside me, curled against my side like she belonged there (which, of course, she did). I took a moment just to look at her—really look at her—in a way I rarely had time for anymore.
The peaceful curve of her cheek. The fan of her lashes against her skin. The soft, steady rhythm of her breathing. She looked younger in sleep, reminding me that we were both still so young ourselves—just eighteen and seventeen—thrust into parenthood before we’d even graduated from Camp Half-Blood. But she was more now, too. Stronger. Braver. Mine.
I brushed a curl from her face, and her eyes fluttered open, honey-amber and still heavy with sleep.
“Morning,” she murmured, voice raspy in a way that immediately had my c**k stirring to life.
“Morning,” I whispered back, dropping a kiss on her forehead.
“What time is it?”
I glanced at the clock. “Eight-thirty.”
Her eyes widened. “Eight-thirty? As in, we slept for more than three consecutive hours?”
“Apparently,” I laughed. “How does it feel?”
“Like a fucking miracle,” she sighed, stretching languidly beside me. “I’d forgotten what it’s like to not wake up every two hours in a blind panic.”
I watched her stretch, admiring the way the sheet slipped down to reveal her naked body—the curve of her shoulder, the swell of her breast, the flat plane of her stomach. My body responded immediately, and she caught my look with a raised eyebrow.
“Again?” she teased, noticing my obvious arousal. “After all that last night?”
I grinned, pulling her closer. “I’m making up for lost time.”
RUSTLE – Sheets sliding against skin.
She laughed, but didn’t resist when I kissed her, slow and deep. “We should probably shower before picking up Thalassa,” she murmured against my lips.
“Mmm,” I agreed, trailing kisses down her neck. “Should probably conserve water, too. Environmental responsibility and all that.”
“Very responsible,” she nodded seriously, her hand sliding between us to wrap around my already hard length. “Shower together it is.”
We barely made it to the bathroom, stumbling and laughing and kissing like the teenagers we technically still were. The hot water sluiced over us, steam rising around our bodies as we rediscovered the specific challenges and rewards of shower sex.
SPLASH – Water hitting the shower floor.
“Fuck, this is harder than I remember,” Malika gasped as I lifted her, her legs wrapping around my waist, her back against the cold tile.
“Worth it though,” I managed, positioning myself at her entrance.
She laughed, the sound echoing in the small space. “Definitely worth it.”
I pushed into her, the water making everything slicker, more intense. Her nails dug into my shoulders, her head tipping back against the tiles. “Gods, Percy, yes—”
Her words dissolved into moans as I found the perfect angle, driving into her with a force that had us both seeing stars. I reached between us, my fingers finding her cl*t, circling it in time with my thrusts. The steam, the heat, the slick slide of our bodies—it was overwhelming in the best possible way.
THUD – Bodies against tile.
“I’m close,” she gasped, her eyes locked on mine.
“Come for me,” I urged, pressing harder against her sensitive bundle of nerves.
She did, spectacularly, her entire body shuddering with the force of it, her p***y clenching around me in waves. I followed seconds later, muffling my shout against her shoulder as pleasure tore through me.
We stayed like that for a moment, still connected, breathing hard, the water turning tepid around us.
“Damn,” she finally said, unwrapping her legs as I carefully set her down. “I think we broke the hot water.”
I laughed, grabbing the shampoo. “Worth it.”
We washed each other’s hair, taking turns under the increasingly cold spray, stealing kisses between rinses. It felt like those early days in the Aphrodite cabin—before Thalassa, before everything changed—when we couldn’t keep our hands off each other. But better, somehow. Deeper. More real.
SQUEAK – Water shutting off.
We dried each other off with care, stealing kisses between swipes of the towel. Malika pulled on jeans and one of my Camp Half-Blood t-shirts, her hair still damp and curling wild around her face. She caught me staring and smiled, a question in her eyes.
“What?”
“Nothing,” I said, crossing to her and pulling her close. “Just thinking about how fucking lucky I am.”
She rolled her eyes, but I could see the pleased flush on her cheeks. “Sap.”
“Your sap,” I corrected, kissing her quickly. “Ready to go get our baby?”
Her face lit up at the mention of Thalassa, and I felt my heart swell. For all our talk of freedom and alone time, we both missed her like crazy.
“Ready,” she nodded, taking my hand.
We walked to my mom’s apartment in Manhattan, shoulders bumping, fingers entwined. The morning was bright and clear, the kind of perfect New York fall day that made everything seem possible.
HONK – Traffic noise in the distance.
“We should do this more often,” Malika said suddenly. “Not every week, obviously, but… maybe once a month? Just us?”
I squeezed her hand. “Absolutely. Date night is officially a thing.”
“Date night,” she repeated, smiling. “I like the sound of that.”
We reached my mom’s building, and as we rode the elevator up, I felt a familiar mixture of excitement and anxiety. Would Thalassa be okay? Would she have missed us? Would she hate us for leaving her?
DING – Elevator arriving at our floor.
My mom opened the door before we could even knock, Thalassa balanced on her hip, gurgling happily.
"There they are!" my mom said in that voice adults reserve for babies. "Look, Thalassa! Mommy and Daddy are here!"
Our daughter looked at us, blinked once, then broke into the biggest, toothless grin I'd ever seen. She kicked her tiny legs excitedly and let out a series of happy coos, reaching for us with grabby hands.
I froze, my entire world shifting on its axis at the sight of her recognizing us so clearly.
"She's been doing that all morning," my mom explained with a proud smile. "Every time I showed her your pictures, she'd get so excited."
SQUEAL – Baby's excited noise.
I took Thalassa from my mom's arms, holding her like she was made of glass. "Hey, little wave," I managed, my voice thick. Her tiny hand immediately grabbed my finger with surprising strength.
Malika was at my side in an instant, her eyes shining with tears. "Has she been good?" she asked my mom, her hand on Thalassa's back.
"An absolute angel," Mom confirmed. "She's starting to track objects with her eyes so well now, and she rolled from her back to her side twice!"
Thalassa cooed again, her eyes locked on my face as she made a series of bubbling sounds, drool running down her chin.
I looked at Malika, saw the pure love in her expression as she watched our daughter, and pulled her close with my free arm.
"She's missed us," I said softly.
Malika laughed, pressing a kiss to Thalassa's forehead. "We've missed her too. So much."
