[ The reverence she pays his scars is odd, given that he's far more accustomed to them being ignored. Gamora has always been fascinated by them, as far as he can tell – not because of some morbid compulsion, like what would compel someone to stare at a train wreck, but because she genuinely finds them... pretty.
He remembers her stray thoughts from that odd day on the moon. He remembers her thinking that his scars were important because they were a part of him, and he remembers how sincerely her thoughts had sounded in his head, and he remembers— how sweet he had found it all, and how strange.
And he feels the same way now, though he keeps the puzzlement off of his face. When she kneels over him, he brackets her sides with his hands, palms sliding up to cup her breasts. Her confidence is insanely attractive, and he faintly smiles up at her. ]
no subject
He remembers her stray thoughts from that odd day on the moon. He remembers her thinking that his scars were important because they were a part of him, and he remembers how sincerely her thoughts had sounded in his head, and he remembers— how sweet he had found it all, and how strange.
And he feels the same way now, though he keeps the puzzlement off of his face. When she kneels over him, he brackets her sides with his hands, palms sliding up to cup her breasts. Her confidence is insanely attractive, and he faintly smiles up at her. ]
I wouldn't object.