Chapter 1: The Golden Cuff's Curse
The steam of the sacred baths curled around Percy like a lover’s caress, the warm waters lapping at his skin as he stood waist-deep, the golden cuff on his wrist glinting under the flickering torchlight. It was a cursed thing, a divine gift that marked him as a prize for the gods, yet it kept him from truly feeling the touch he craved. And tonight, with Achilles and Patroclus flanking him, that craving was a wildfire in his veins.
Achilles, all golden muscle and raw power, stood behind him, his strong arms wrapping around Percy’s waist like iron bands, pinning him in place. A broad chest pressed against his back, and Percy could feel the heat radiating from the warrior god. Achilles splayed one hand over Percy’s chest, right over his racing heart, as if claiming it. 'All the gods vying for you to warm their beds… and you’ve chosen us,' Achilles murmured, his voice a low growl that sent shivers down Percy’s spine.
'Of course,' Percy shot back, his tone sharp despite the tremor in his breath. 'I’m not some simpering mortal to be passed around Olympus. I choose who gets the privilege of my company.' His lips curled into a smirk as he moved, one hand gripping Patroclus’ bicep, the other dipping beneath the water, seeking skin—only to be stopped as Patroclus caught his wrist with a firm, teasing grip.
'Not so fast, darling,' Patroclus said, his dark eyes glinting with mischief. He lifted Percy’s hand from the water, pressing a slow, deliberate kiss to the inside of his wrist, just above that damned golden cuff. 'We’ve got all night to play, and I intend to savor every second.' His lips lingered, warm and maddening, and Percy’s breath caught, a sharp hiss escaping him.
'Tease,' Percy accused, but there was no venom in it, only a hungry edge. He tilted his head back against Achilles’ shoulder, closing his eyes as the sensation of their nearness overwhelmed him. Achilles shivered with anticipation, his hold tightening just enough to remind Percy of the raw strength coiled in those arms—yet so careful, so deliberate. 'You two think you can handle me? I’m not some fragile flower to be plucked.'
Achilles chuckled, the sound rumbling through his chest and into Percy’s back. 'Oh, we know exactly what you are, Percy. A storm in mortal form. And we’re here to ride it.' His hand slid lower, brushing just above the waterline, a promise of more to come.
Patroclus’ gaze darkened, his voice dropping to a husky whisper as he leaned in, lips brushing Percy’s ear. 'Let us take care of you. Let us show you what it means to be worshipped.'
Percy nodded, words failing him as his pulse thundered under Achilles’ touch. He already knew the god could feel his hummingbird heartbeat, could sense the heat building in him. So he surrendered to the moment, resting fully against Achilles, praying he’d remember every second of this night. The water rippled around them, the air thick with tension, and as Patroclus’ hand slid down his side, brushing bare skin at last, Percy felt the first sparks of something explosive ignite. He was ready—ready to feel their hands, their heat, to let go of the curse of that golden cuff for just one night of pure, unbridled desire.
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