Chapter 1 - Part 1: The Oracle's Vows and the Sea God's Fury

My name is Percy Jackson, and if you'd told me five years ago that I'd be standing at the altar of Olympus in a tuxedo that Chiron swore wasn't cursed, I would've laughed in your face. Probably while dodging a hellhound or two. But here we were, early twenties, the world not quite saved but on pause, and Rachel Elizabeth Dare—my fiery redheaded oracle, mortal girlfriend (ex-girlfriend? Fiancée? Whatever)—was walking down an aisle made of glowing ambrosia clouds, looking like she could predict the end of the world and make it sexy.The ceremony was big. Like, gods-big. Zeus had insisted on hosting after Athena tried to one-up him with a "logically superior" venue in her temple. Poseidon grumbled about the thunder guy's ego but showed up anyway, trident polished to a shine. Demigods from every camp packed the floating marble pavilion: Annabeth (my best friend, maid of honor, and eternal skeptic) in a killer blue gown; Grover munching on celestial tin cans as best man; even Nico di Angelo lurked in the shadows, giving me a thumbs-up that might've been a threat. The Seven were there—Leo cracking jokes, Piper charming the harpies into singing backup. Hera officiated, smirking like she knew something we didn't.Rachel's dress was a masterpiece: silk the color of sunset over Half-Blood Hill, embroidered with golden prophecies that shimmered and shifted like living tattoos. Her green eyes locked on mine, that wild strawberry-blonde hair cascading in waves. She was 21, all curves and confidence, the Oracle of Delphi who saw futures but chose this one. With me."Do you, Perseus Achilles Jackson," Hera boomed, her voice echoing like a divine PowerPoint presentation, "take this mortal seer as your lawfully wedded wife, to have and to hold, through Tartarus and back?""I do," I said, grinning like an idiot. My sea-green eyes met hers, and I felt the tide pull in my veins."And you, Rachel Elizabeth Dare, do you take this son of the sea, this hero of a thousand quests, as your husband, forsaking all other prophecies for his?"Her smile was pure mischief. "I do. And Percy? Don't screw it up."Laughter rippled through the crowd. Poseidon slapped me on the back—hard enough to nearly launch me into the clouds—and handed over a conch shell chalice filled with nectar. "To my boy and his bride. May your bed be as stormy as my tempers."We kissed to cheers, thunderclaps, and a flock of pegasi releasing flower petals that smelled suspiciously like ambrosia. Annabeth hugged Rachel fierce. "You're insane for picking him, but gods, you two are perfect."As the sun dipped toward the horizon—Hestia herself lighting the torches—the feast kicked off. Nectar flowed, satyrs danced, and Apollo serenaded with a lyre solo that had everyone blushing. Rachel and I stole moments: her hand in mine under the table, whispering about our first apartment in New Rome, away from monsters and meddling gods. But the heat in her gaze promised the real celebration was coming.Night fell like a velvet curtain. The pavilion dissolved into starlight portals, guests vanishing to their realms. Chiron pulled me aside. "The bridal suite awaits on your father's private island. No monsters, no quests. Just... enjoy." He winked, the centaur equivalent of a mic drop.Rachel and I stepped through a shimmering wave-portal, hand in hand. Poseidon's island: a crescent of white sand, turquoise waves lapping eternally calm waters, a villa carved from pearl and coral, lit by bioluminescent jellyfish floating like lanterns. Palm trees swayed, scented with salt and hibiscus. No paparazzi gods, no emergencies. Just us.She kicked off her heels first, bare feet sinking into cool sand. "Husband," she purred, the word like a prophecy fulfilled. Her dress hugged every inch—full breasts straining the bodice, hips swaying with oracle grace, legs endless and toned from years of climbing Delphi's fumes."Wife," I echoed, pulling her close. At 22, I was all lean muscle from quests, black hair tousled, that easy Camp Half-Blood grin. But tonight, I felt like a god myself.Our kiss started slow, exploratory—lips brushing, tasting nectar-sweet wine. Then hunger hit. Her hands fisted my tux shirt, yanking me down. Tongues tangled, hot and demanding. I tasted strawberries, smoke from her visions, the wild essence of her. My fingers traced her spine, dipping to the zipper at her lower back."Rip it off," she whispered against my mouth. "I have backups."Challenge accepted. I gripped the silk, tore it down in one sea-powered yank. The dress pooled at her feet, revealing lace lingerie the color of sea foam—bra cradling her perfect C-cups, nipples already hard peaks begging through the fabric; matching thong barely covering her smooth mound, garters hugging thighs that could crush a drakon."Fuck, Rachel," I growled, voice rough. She was a vision: pale skin glowing under moonlight, freckles dusting her shoulders like constellations, red hair wild.She shoved me toward the villa, nails raking my chest as buttons flew. "Bedroom. Now."We stumbled inside—open-air suite with a massive four-poster draped in gauzy white, waves crashing audible through open arches. A bottle of Olympian champagne chilled nearby, strawberries dipped in nectar. But food could wait.She pushed me onto the bed, straddling my hips. Her heat pressed against my raging hard-on through my pants. "My hero," she teased, grinding slow circles. Her breasts bounced softly, lace straining. I reached up, cupped them—full, heavy, nipples diamond-hard under my thumbs. She moaned, arching, as I pinched and rolled."Gods, Percy... more." She leaned down, kissing my neck, sucking marks that'd heal by morning. Her tongue traced my collarbone, down to my chest—nipping pecs honed from swordfights, swirling over scars from battles past.I flipped us, pinning her beneath me. She laughed, delighted, legs wrapping my waist. My mouth claimed a breast, yanking lace aside. Her nipple was dusky rose, begging. I sucked hard, tongue lashing, teeth grazing. She bucked, fingers in my hair, gasping my name like a prayer."Oh fuck—yes, like that!" Her free hand clawed my back, urging lower.I obliged, kissing a trail down her stomach—flat, toned, quivering. Hooked fingers in her thong, slid it off slow, revealing her: shaved smooth, lips glistening pink, clit swollen and peeking. Arousal scented the air, musky-sweet."Percy..." She spread her thighs wide, knees bent, offering everything. Bold, unashamed oracle.I dove in, tongue flat against her slit, lapping up her wetness. Salty-sweet nectar, better than ambrosia. She tasted like fire and sea. I sucked her clit, gentle then firm, two fingers sliding into her tight heat. She clenched around me, velvet walls pulsing— so wet, so ready."Yes! Gods, your mouth—" Her hips rocked, fucking my face. I curled fingers, hitting that spot, G-spot magic from practice dates. She shattered fast, first orgasm ripping through—thighs clamping my head, cries echoing off coral walls. "Percy! Coming—fuck!"I drank her down, not stopping till she trembled oversensitive.She yanked me up, eyes feral. "Inside me. Now."Pants gone—my cock sprang free, thick 8 inches, veined, head leaking pre-cum. Her hand wrapped it, stroking firm—twist at the top, thumb smearing slick. "So big... all mine."Condom? Gods don't need 'em; nectar birth control from Aphrodite's gift basket. I notched at her entrance, teasing. She whined, nails digging my ass. "Please—"One thrust, burying deep. She was molten, gripping like a vice. We both groaned—me bottoming out, her walls fluttering.Slow at first: deep rolls, grinding her clit with my pelvis. Her tits bounced with each thrust, red hair splayed on pillows. "Harder, sea boy. Fuck your wife."I pounded then—relentless, bed creaking like a trireme in storm. Sweat slicked our bodies, slapping skin loud as waves. She met every thrust, legs hooked ankles at my back, heels digging."Look at you," I panted, hooking her legs over shoulders for deeper angle. "Taking my cock so good. Oracle slut for her hero.""Only yours," she gasped, clenching. "Fill me—make me scream."I rubbed her clit in circles, thrusting brutal. Her second orgasm built fast—walls milking, tits heaving, back arching off bed. "Percy—yes! Coming again—"She exploded, juices squirting around my cock, soaking sheets. I kept railing through it, chasing mine. Her dirty pleas—"Breed me, husband, pump me full"—tipped me. I roared, slamming deep, pulsing ropes of hot cum inside her. Overflowing, dripping down her ass.We collapsed, tangled, laughing breathless. But youth and nectar meant round two brewed quick.She rolled atop, cum-slick thighs straddling. "My turn to ride."Her hand guided me back in—easy glide, our mess lubing. She sank slow, savoring, then bounced. Tits in my face—I sucked one, pinching other. Her pace wild: grinding circles, then slamming down, ass cheeks clapping."Fuck, you're huge—stretching me perfect." Nails raked my chest, leaving red trails. I gripped her hips, thrusting up to meet—balls slapping her.Moonlight painted her sweat-sheened skin, hair flying like flames. She leaned back, hands on my thighs, giving full view: cock disappearing into her greedy pussy, clit engorged."Touch yourself," I commanded. She did—fingers rubbing furious. Third orgasm hit her like lightning—screaming my name, pussy convulsing, milking dry.I flipped her to all fours, ass up—round, firm, begging. Slid back in, spanking cheeks red. "Take it, wife. All night."We went primal: doggy deep, her pushing back, me pulling hair gentle. Spooning slow after, my hand between her legs, fingers and cock working tandem. Missionary intimate, eye-locked, kisses sloppy as she came again—soft, shuddering.Hours blurred—positions endless, her on top reverse cowgirl, me eating her from behind while fingering ass (teasing, not full), 69 mutual devouring till we both came mouths full. Youth fueled us: four, five orgasms each, bodies insatiable.Dawn pinked the horizon as we slowed, spooned sticky and spent. Her head on my chest, my arm banded possessive. "Best first night," she murmured."Prophecy says more," I whispered, already hardening.But that's for tomorrow's tides.