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[ He follows after her, and while he doesn't grab hold of her arm, he still at least reaches out a little cautiously, ready to catch her.
But there's something a little overly cautious about it, something clearly exaggerated. He's joking as much as he's genuinely keeping an eye out for her. ]
You're sure? 'Cause there's no shame in needing a piggyback ride.
But there's something a little overly cautious about it, something clearly exaggerated. He's joking as much as he's genuinely keeping an eye out for her. ]
You're sure? 'Cause there's no shame in needing a piggyback ride.
[ He flashes her a grin, then crouches down a little. ]
You wanna hop on?
[ Apparently he was not just bluffing. ]
You wanna hop on?
[ Apparently he was not just bluffing. ]
[ She's almost startled that he's following up on what she sort of started to assume was a bluff, but—
That's kind fo a challenge, and maybe it's the cider or just her nature, but she's more than willing to accept.
She shrugs, then steps around Peter, putting her hands on his shoulders. With a tiny hop, she hitches her legs up, winding herself around his broad back. ]
I'm not too heavy, am I?
[ She's willowy and arguably underfed, so she'd be sincerely shocked if he actually complained. ]
That's kind fo a challenge, and maybe it's the cider or just her nature, but she's more than willing to accept.
She shrugs, then steps around Peter, putting her hands on his shoulders. With a tiny hop, she hitches her legs up, winding herself around his broad back. ]
I'm not too heavy, am I?
[ She's willowy and arguably underfed, so she'd be sincerely shocked if he actually complained. ]
[ He's not too surprised that she hops aboard. He lets out a quiet grunt as he hefts her up, arms tucking beneath her legs as he straightens. ]
I already carried you for the better part of two days. I think I can manage to get you up a flight of stairs.
[ Granted, she had been in her smaller fox form, at the time, but he's not wrong.
Still, he doesn't seem to struggle as he climbs the stairs up to their rooms. ]
I already carried you for the better part of two days. I think I can manage to get you up a flight of stairs.
[ Granted, she had been in her smaller fox form, at the time, but he's not wrong.
Still, he doesn't seem to struggle as he climbs the stairs up to their rooms. ]
Edited 2019-09-25 04:58 (UTC)
[ Yan also refrains from pointing out the differences in size from then to now, but he handles her with enough ease that she doesn't try to tease him for it. She rests her forehead on his shoulder as he carries her up, offering a quiet hum; she's enjoying the floating feeling, only made more intense when she's off the ground.
When they reach their landing, she's still wrapped around him without trying to drop down to the floor.
With a wide yawn, ]
That was a good dinner.
[ She doesn't really remember the last time she had a meal quite like that. ]
When they reach their landing, she's still wrapped around him without trying to drop down to the floor.
With a wide yawn, ]
That was a good dinner.
[ She doesn't really remember the last time she had a meal quite like that. ]
[ He's not entirely surprised that she doesn't hop down, but when he hears her yawn, when he feels the way she slumps against him, he hitches her a little pointedly. ]
Hey, c'mon. I agreed to give you a ride, not for you to fall asleep on me.
[ Small as this place is, it's only a few steps before he reaches the first of the boarding house's four rooms. His room sits beside hers. ]
Got your key?
Hey, c'mon. I agreed to give you a ride, not for you to fall asleep on me.
[ Small as this place is, it's only a few steps before he reaches the first of the boarding house's four rooms. His room sits beside hers. ]
Got your key?
[ He lets out an almost incredulous sound, mostly at the question – though he is a little puzzled over why she's making no move to climb down. He turns a little, speaking over his shoulder. ]
What, don't you want some privacy? I mean, you've known me all of two days. Figured you'd want the chance for some alone time.
What, don't you want some privacy? I mean, you've known me all of two days. Figured you'd want the chance for some alone time.
[ She peeks up from his shoulder, a little wrinkle in her brow. She's quieter when she speaks, even though the hall seems perfectly empty. ]
I still have the rune on my foot. I don't— [ A flicker of hesitation. ] I don't want to be alone like this.
[ What if she sleeps too heavily? What if someone shows up in the middle of the night and she doesn't sense them first?
In her own room, she'd probably just end up sleeping under the bed, for fear of being too exposed. ]
I still have the rune on my foot. I don't— [ A flicker of hesitation. ] I don't want to be alone like this.
[ What if she sleeps too heavily? What if someone shows up in the middle of the night and she doesn't sense them first?
In her own room, she'd probably just end up sleeping under the bed, for fear of being too exposed. ]
[ His expression softens at that – he really should have realized that on his own, and he's kicking himself for it a little.
After a moment of hesitation, he starts heading to the next door. ]
Guess you'll have to bunk with me tonight, then.
After a moment of hesitation, he starts heading to the next door. ]
Guess you'll have to bunk with me tonight, then.
[ He bends down a little to help ease the transition from his back to the floor, and when he's sure she isn't in danger of falling, he slips his hand inside of his coat to reach for an inner pocket. ]
I've got it.
[ He retrieves the key, unlocking the door and letting Yan step in first.
Peter had been up here earlier to drop off his belongings before dinner, which means the modest furnishings of the room don't surprise him. Then again, a small town like this, he wasn't expecting much to begin with. Still, it's reasonably cozy, if small, sporting a bed, a small table and chair – both currently occupied by his belongings – and a washstand. The lamp on the table is already lit, filling the room with warm, flickering light.
He starts shrugging out of his coat. ]
Take the bed.
I've got it.
[ He retrieves the key, unlocking the door and letting Yan step in first.
Peter had been up here earlier to drop off his belongings before dinner, which means the modest furnishings of the room don't surprise him. Then again, a small town like this, he wasn't expecting much to begin with. Still, it's reasonably cozy, if small, sporting a bed, a small table and chair – both currently occupied by his belongings – and a washstand. The lamp on the table is already lit, filling the room with warm, flickering light.
He starts shrugging out of his coat. ]
Take the bed.
[ He tosses his coat onto the back of the chair, returning to the door to lock it behind them. He tosses the room’s key onto the table in plain view as he moves to his pack, loosening the straps to free his bedroll. ]
I can take the floor. It’s fine.
I can take the floor. It’s fine.
[ She wrinkles her nose in immediate disapproval, but as he's focused on his pack, she starts to untie her dress. She turns away from him as she releases the garment, and in the same moment that it falls to the floor, she shifts into the small fox form, her tails fanning out behind her.
She turns stubbornly to look at Peter, and she hops up onto the foot of the bed, offering him a light yip, as if to say, "See?" ]
She turns stubbornly to look at Peter, and she hops up onto the foot of the bed, offering him a light yip, as if to say, "See?" ]
[ He hears the whisper of movement behind him, and he turns just as he’s freed his bedroll. He blinks at her, startled, before he smothers a wince.
Right, right. The fox thing.
Right.
(Stupid of him to forget. Yondu would’ve clocked him for letting his guard down.)
He lets out a sigh, setting the bedroll to one side. He grumbles, ]
Yeah, yeah, fine. Point made.
[ He hesitates before moving to undo the fastenings on his armor. ]
Don’t let anyone see you like that, though. And don’t complain to me if I kick you in the middle of the night.
Right, right. The fox thing.
Right.
(Stupid of him to forget. Yondu would’ve clocked him for letting his guard down.)
He lets out a sigh, setting the bedroll to one side. He grumbles, ]
Yeah, yeah, fine. Point made.
[ He hesitates before moving to undo the fastenings on his armor. ]
Don’t let anyone see you like that, though. And don’t complain to me if I kick you in the middle of the night.
[ Foxes don't really have facial expressions, but she somehow still manages to look pleased with herself (in an "I win" sort of way). She nods, chirping quietly in quiet agreement. Peter has locked the door, and Yan doesn't exactly plan to wander out like this, so she's not that worried about the possibility of being seen; this is about as secure as it gets.
And, this way, Peter gets to sleep on the bed without having to compromise anywhere.
... Though she may bite him if he does actually kick her.
She pads over to one corner of the bed, and she turns in a small circle a few times, smoothing down the blanket until it's just right, and then she curls into a small ball with her tails tucked around her. ]
And, this way, Peter gets to sleep on the bed without having to compromise anywhere.
... Though she may bite him if he does actually kick her.
She pads over to one corner of the bed, and she turns in a small circle a few times, smoothing down the blanket until it's just right, and then she curls into a small ball with her tails tucked around her. ]
[ He strips out of his armor, laying it carefully on the table, before he tugs off his shirt. He sits on the edge of the bed, unfastening his boots. He glances over to where she’s taken up station on the corner of the bed. ]
You’re sure you’re good like that?
You’re sure you’re good like that?
[ Yan watches him with shrewd eyes, following the way he moves. It’s at least more subtle like this, the manner she observes him when he strips off his shirt (because he’s handsome?). She tries not to stare too much, but it’s easier for her to appreciate Peter when she’s less terrified of the potential that he means to skin her – or worse.
But as he looks over at her, she nods, resting her head on her paws with a little murmur that’s not quite a bark. She’s slept in weirder, more uncomfortable places before, and as far as she’s concerned, with a bed under her and the relative, comfortable warmth of being indoors and close to another body, she has no need to complain. Part of her feels safer like this, more normal and natural – but maybe that’s just because this form doesn’t draw the same attention her human one can. Occasionally, there’s something to be said for being treated like an animal; it can be a less objectionable objectification. ]
[ He looks skeptical for a second, but admittedly, this is a pretty good compromise for the situation. Neither of them has to sleep on the floor, and neither do they have to navigate the awkward dance of propriety when trying to share a bed. Not that Peter has ever considered himself someone who stands on ceremony, but he at least prides himself on not being a total sleezeball.
He kicks off his boots and unfastens his last weapon – a sheathed dagger at his back – to leave it resting beneath his pillow. He doesn’t expect trouble, but it’s an old habit he picked up from his shadier days that he has yet to break. He does one last circuit of the room – another bad, slightly paranoid habit – before he brings the lamp over to the nightstand. He snuffs the light before he slips under the covers, mindful of Yan’s position at the corner of the bed, and he lets out a relieved sigh as he settles. It’s been about a week since he last slept in a proper bed, and depending on how the meeting with the alchemist goes tomorrow, it could be his last time for a while. ]
Night, Yan.
He kicks off his boots and unfastens his last weapon – a sheathed dagger at his back – to leave it resting beneath his pillow. He doesn’t expect trouble, but it’s an old habit he picked up from his shadier days that he has yet to break. He does one last circuit of the room – another bad, slightly paranoid habit – before he brings the lamp over to the nightstand. He snuffs the light before he slips under the covers, mindful of Yan’s position at the corner of the bed, and he lets out a relieved sigh as he settles. It’s been about a week since he last slept in a proper bed, and depending on how the meeting with the alchemist goes tomorrow, it could be his last time for a while. ]
Night, Yan.
[ In the days after the attack, they learn a few more details: there were a few killed in the explosion, and Peter feels that familiar ugly surge of guilt and disgust again. Reasonably, he knows he had little to do with the murders, other than by simply being present, but he still feels regret for the loss, and for having enemies blind and sadistic enough to care little about innocent casualties.
But they move on, as they always must. Money still has to be made, and food still needs to be put on the table. True to her word, Gamora takes on easier jobs, gives herself time to heal and for all of them to process the mess. They've been lucky, honestly, that it's taken even this long for their past lives to catch up with them. It likely won't be the last time, either, as their reputation improves for their good work; at some point, their old enemies will be overwhelmed with the desire to knock one or all of them down a few pegs for old transgressions.
Now, at least, they know better to expect it.
It's been a much needed wake-up call, in more ways than one. The events with Ego had spurred Peter in the right direction, if he's honest, but it was the mess with Inet that finally goaded him into action. The fear of the unknown, of making himself vulnerable and jeopardizing everything they had built for themselves over these past months, had stymied him; but the realization that he could miss his chance, that one or both of them might be killed in the line of duty with a million things left unsaid, had been far more horrifying.
To say things have changed between himself and Gamora would be putting it lightly.
The smile at one another more, hang around each other more, touch each other more, even while the others are in full view of them. Drax, predictably, hardly looks surprised, while Mantis seems delighted. Groot hardly notices the difference, child that he is, but Rocket takes every given opportunity to roll his eyes and scoff in derision, exclaiming his disgust loudly as he marches out of the room.
It's... nice. They're taking it slow, for which Peter is grateful, and Gamora is being far more patient than he ever imagined possible. He remembers her reputation, after all, remembers her penchant for whirlwind one-night stands, and he's surprised that after that first week of their being officially something that she hasn't asked for or even hinted at sex. Probably in deference to both of their inexperience at navigating a steady romantic relationship, he's sure.
And also probably in deference to the small space of Gamora's ship, with their teammates' bunks far too close for comfort.
"We still need a bigger ship," Peter says one day, as all of them are gathered in the common area.
Everyone murmurs an agreement.
Eventually, they'll act on that idea rather than pay lip service to it. For now, though, they've completed a delivery of goods to a decent station (complete with a thorough background check on all involved parties, because paranoia tends to run rampant, these days). Their next assignment isn't planned for at least a few days, and rather than look for quick work in their downtime, the Guardians decide to take at least a day or two of shore leave.
With the cramped space of the ship feeling far more cramped these days, most everyone decides to rent a room elsewhere, using this time to earn that small bit of much needed privacy. Rocket goes off with Groot, and Drax takes it upon himself to guide Mantis around the station. Peter and Gamora offer up their usual warnings before falling into their usual habits – finding something fun to do, something practically touristy, before grabbing dinner and drinks.
But this part of the routine is new: Gamora, leaning forward in the crowded bar to press a kiss to his lips, and he tastes a bit of sugar on her lips from the dessert they just shared. And later in the evening, he returns the favor, closing the space to slot his mouth over hers, and this time he can taste the alcohol from her drinks.
And this part of the routine is absolutely new, too: returning to their hotel, hand in hand, exchanging tentative but heated looks the entire way. When they finally return to their room, Peter silently shrugs out of his coat, hanging it up and glancing around. The room is relatively modest, but given they've mostly been living on the ship lately, it's practically luxurious compared to their personal bunks.
He looks back to Gamora, and he feels that familiar-unfamiliar twist in his chest, nervousness and warmth and fondness all at once, vying for attention. The only outward sign of it is that small, private smile reserved only for Gamora.
He steps into her space again, reaching up to cup her cheek, his thumb running over the swell of her cheek, before he ducks down to claim another kiss – chaste at first, but growing deeper and more heated with each second, thanks to the benefit of a closed and locked door. ]
But they move on, as they always must. Money still has to be made, and food still needs to be put on the table. True to her word, Gamora takes on easier jobs, gives herself time to heal and for all of them to process the mess. They've been lucky, honestly, that it's taken even this long for their past lives to catch up with them. It likely won't be the last time, either, as their reputation improves for their good work; at some point, their old enemies will be overwhelmed with the desire to knock one or all of them down a few pegs for old transgressions.
Now, at least, they know better to expect it.
It's been a much needed wake-up call, in more ways than one. The events with Ego had spurred Peter in the right direction, if he's honest, but it was the mess with Inet that finally goaded him into action. The fear of the unknown, of making himself vulnerable and jeopardizing everything they had built for themselves over these past months, had stymied him; but the realization that he could miss his chance, that one or both of them might be killed in the line of duty with a million things left unsaid, had been far more horrifying.
To say things have changed between himself and Gamora would be putting it lightly.
The smile at one another more, hang around each other more, touch each other more, even while the others are in full view of them. Drax, predictably, hardly looks surprised, while Mantis seems delighted. Groot hardly notices the difference, child that he is, but Rocket takes every given opportunity to roll his eyes and scoff in derision, exclaiming his disgust loudly as he marches out of the room.
It's... nice. They're taking it slow, for which Peter is grateful, and Gamora is being far more patient than he ever imagined possible. He remembers her reputation, after all, remembers her penchant for whirlwind one-night stands, and he's surprised that after that first week of their being officially something that she hasn't asked for or even hinted at sex. Probably in deference to both of their inexperience at navigating a steady romantic relationship, he's sure.
And also probably in deference to the small space of Gamora's ship, with their teammates' bunks far too close for comfort.
"We still need a bigger ship," Peter says one day, as all of them are gathered in the common area.
Everyone murmurs an agreement.
Eventually, they'll act on that idea rather than pay lip service to it. For now, though, they've completed a delivery of goods to a decent station (complete with a thorough background check on all involved parties, because paranoia tends to run rampant, these days). Their next assignment isn't planned for at least a few days, and rather than look for quick work in their downtime, the Guardians decide to take at least a day or two of shore leave.
With the cramped space of the ship feeling far more cramped these days, most everyone decides to rent a room elsewhere, using this time to earn that small bit of much needed privacy. Rocket goes off with Groot, and Drax takes it upon himself to guide Mantis around the station. Peter and Gamora offer up their usual warnings before falling into their usual habits – finding something fun to do, something practically touristy, before grabbing dinner and drinks.
But this part of the routine is new: Gamora, leaning forward in the crowded bar to press a kiss to his lips, and he tastes a bit of sugar on her lips from the dessert they just shared. And later in the evening, he returns the favor, closing the space to slot his mouth over hers, and this time he can taste the alcohol from her drinks.
And this part of the routine is absolutely new, too: returning to their hotel, hand in hand, exchanging tentative but heated looks the entire way. When they finally return to their room, Peter silently shrugs out of his coat, hanging it up and glancing around. The room is relatively modest, but given they've mostly been living on the ship lately, it's practically luxurious compared to their personal bunks.
He looks back to Gamora, and he feels that familiar-unfamiliar twist in his chest, nervousness and warmth and fondness all at once, vying for attention. The only outward sign of it is that small, private smile reserved only for Gamora.
He steps into her space again, reaching up to cup her cheek, his thumb running over the swell of her cheek, before he ducks down to claim another kiss – chaste at first, but growing deeper and more heated with each second, thanks to the benefit of a closed and locked door. ]
[ She can’t fuck this up.
Gamora keeps telling herself that, every time she finds herself alone with Peter, every time their moments of privacy turn to gentle kisses or innocent touch. (With everything she’s done in her life, holding hands probably shouldn’t make her stomach do somersaults, but it absolutely does.) But she’s constantly aware of how much Peter is sharing with her and how important it is – and how easily she could crush it with one wrong move.
But the more time she spends with him with that last barrier removed between them, the less concerned she is about ruining this because of a miscommunication or reading signals incorrectly. It’s nice, effortless even, to be close to Peter without itching for more. She finds herself almost hilariously affectionate now that she has the chance (even if she tries not to be Too Much); she nuzzles into his cheek when they sit beside each other, steals sweet kisses in the middle of a chore. They tend to start migrating to one bunk or the other during downtime, and Gamora often falls asleep curled up with Peter – finally without thinking anything of it.
The shift also makes it easier for Gamora to rest while she heals. She’s less— antsy? She feels less like she’s chomping at the bit to keep herself busy and useful; they make money, ends meet, and Gamora doesn’t push herself harder than her body would allow.
And— it’s just nice.
It’s wonderful and fulfilling, even without sex. Sex is fantastic, obviously, and she would like to have it with Peter, but… there’s no rush.
She has him, and that’s more than enough.
The ship, however, is crowded. She loves her ship, and she’s been flying it for more than a decade, at this point, but… sentimentality is not worth the aggravation that accompanies being shoved in such a small space with so many people. She already felt aware of it before things with Peter became more concrete, but now that they’ve changed so dramatically, she’s starting to realize more and more that the only way they’ll have any privacy is when the other Guardians are not on board.
But once they’re docked for a few days of downtime, Gamora is the first to book a room for herself (and she invites Peter, too, instead of just assuming he would want to stay with her). The room is decent – not big, not extravagant – with a bed and, above all else, privacy.
And now— they can have a real date.
(Gamora realizes that they’ve had plenty of outings that could have been seen as a date, but now this is more official.)
She flirts with Peter all night, the way she always has, but she’s less shy about touching him – reaching out to rest a hand on his thigh, stealing a kiss over drinks and sweet treats.
(And he smiles at her, and it blows her away – seeing that, feeling the force of it, even when it’s so small. It’s so subtle, so genuine, so… just for her.)
There’s something different about tonight, though. Something about the way they touch, the looks they exchange – something heated and purposeful, even with the nerves Gamora can feel sparking in her chest, her stomach. They’re back at the hotel, back at the room, and then—
Peter is looking at her with that smile. (That “just for her” smile.) He steps close, and Gamora can feel herself stop breathing for all of a second, that moment that he’s just looking at her, because then his lips are pressed over her own – and the world narrows down to nothing but this. She remembers how to breathe soon enough, kissing Peter back with the incrementally increasing intensity. Heat bleeds between their mouths, pooling in every point of contact, but Gamora tries to rein herself in, to let Peter set the pace. Like everything else in this exchange, Peter’s comfort is her main concern, and where he draws the line, Gamora will readily halt.
But when he’s not pumping the brakes? She can’t help being so greedy with the kiss, with the way she tangles her fingers in his shirt, her arm sliding around the back of his neck – not trying to trap him, but just to hold herself closer. ]
Gamora keeps telling herself that, every time she finds herself alone with Peter, every time their moments of privacy turn to gentle kisses or innocent touch. (With everything she’s done in her life, holding hands probably shouldn’t make her stomach do somersaults, but it absolutely does.) But she’s constantly aware of how much Peter is sharing with her and how important it is – and how easily she could crush it with one wrong move.
But the more time she spends with him with that last barrier removed between them, the less concerned she is about ruining this because of a miscommunication or reading signals incorrectly. It’s nice, effortless even, to be close to Peter without itching for more. She finds herself almost hilariously affectionate now that she has the chance (even if she tries not to be Too Much); she nuzzles into his cheek when they sit beside each other, steals sweet kisses in the middle of a chore. They tend to start migrating to one bunk or the other during downtime, and Gamora often falls asleep curled up with Peter – finally without thinking anything of it.
The shift also makes it easier for Gamora to rest while she heals. She’s less— antsy? She feels less like she’s chomping at the bit to keep herself busy and useful; they make money, ends meet, and Gamora doesn’t push herself harder than her body would allow.
And— it’s just nice.
It’s wonderful and fulfilling, even without sex. Sex is fantastic, obviously, and she would like to have it with Peter, but… there’s no rush.
She has him, and that’s more than enough.
The ship, however, is crowded. She loves her ship, and she’s been flying it for more than a decade, at this point, but… sentimentality is not worth the aggravation that accompanies being shoved in such a small space with so many people. She already felt aware of it before things with Peter became more concrete, but now that they’ve changed so dramatically, she’s starting to realize more and more that the only way they’ll have any privacy is when the other Guardians are not on board.
But once they’re docked for a few days of downtime, Gamora is the first to book a room for herself (and she invites Peter, too, instead of just assuming he would want to stay with her). The room is decent – not big, not extravagant – with a bed and, above all else, privacy.
And now— they can have a real date.
(Gamora realizes that they’ve had plenty of outings that could have been seen as a date, but now this is more official.)
She flirts with Peter all night, the way she always has, but she’s less shy about touching him – reaching out to rest a hand on his thigh, stealing a kiss over drinks and sweet treats.
(And he smiles at her, and it blows her away – seeing that, feeling the force of it, even when it’s so small. It’s so subtle, so genuine, so… just for her.)
There’s something different about tonight, though. Something about the way they touch, the looks they exchange – something heated and purposeful, even with the nerves Gamora can feel sparking in her chest, her stomach. They’re back at the hotel, back at the room, and then—
Peter is looking at her with that smile. (That “just for her” smile.) He steps close, and Gamora can feel herself stop breathing for all of a second, that moment that he’s just looking at her, because then his lips are pressed over her own – and the world narrows down to nothing but this. She remembers how to breathe soon enough, kissing Peter back with the incrementally increasing intensity. Heat bleeds between their mouths, pooling in every point of contact, but Gamora tries to rein herself in, to let Peter set the pace. Like everything else in this exchange, Peter’s comfort is her main concern, and where he draws the line, Gamora will readily halt.
But when he’s not pumping the brakes? She can’t help being so greedy with the kiss, with the way she tangles her fingers in his shirt, her arm sliding around the back of his neck – not trying to trap him, but just to hold herself closer. ]
[ Peter is a reserved person, as a natural rule, but with Gamora, he lets himself loosen that tight hold on himself. Something about being with her is just— freeing, in a million different ways. She teases, but she doesn't judge. If he lets himself be vulnerable to her, she won't take advantage of it, won't file the moment away to use it against him later.
She lets him just— be himself, even if he's still trying to find out who that is and what it all means.
She pulls him closer, and he readily complies, his other arm snaking around her waist to hold her steady. His touch is gentle, careful, but certain. This dance, at least, he knows most of the steps to – thanks to practice with Gamora in quieter moments during the night cycle.
His tongue slips past the seam of her lips, and he tastes the faintest traces of alcohol still, feels the warm slide of her tongue against his. This alone is its own brand of intoxicating, and he thinks he could spend an entire evening just enjoying this alone – the tight grip of her hands against his clothing, on the nape of his neck, the softness of her lips and the heat of her mouth.
Tonight, though, now that they have privacy, and now that they don't have to worry about their teammates overhearing, he wants to try for more. ]
She lets him just— be himself, even if he's still trying to find out who that is and what it all means.
She pulls him closer, and he readily complies, his other arm snaking around her waist to hold her steady. His touch is gentle, careful, but certain. This dance, at least, he knows most of the steps to – thanks to practice with Gamora in quieter moments during the night cycle.
His tongue slips past the seam of her lips, and he tastes the faintest traces of alcohol still, feels the warm slide of her tongue against his. This alone is its own brand of intoxicating, and he thinks he could spend an entire evening just enjoying this alone – the tight grip of her hands against his clothing, on the nape of his neck, the softness of her lips and the heat of her mouth.
Tonight, though, now that they have privacy, and now that they don't have to worry about their teammates overhearing, he wants to try for more. ]
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