[ He breathing becomes a little rougher, a little heavier, but he keeps his lower lip between his teeth – at least until Gamora's hand curls against his cheek and her thumb sweeps beneath his lip. He looks up at her a little uncertainly, but he does as she tacitly asks, letting his lips part.
He understands what she's asking for, of course, but Peter has never been a particularly vocal person. She wants to hear him, apparently, and there's a small, traitorous part of him that thinks, Anything for you. It means he'll have to learn how to break the habit of restraining himself and keeping those damning sounds to caged and trapped.
He lets out a breath, offering a quick nod – an unsure gesture that seems to say, I'll try. She moves herself slowly along his length, and he lets himself give voice to the relieved noise that escapes him – though it's still quiet compared to Gamora's groan.
He rocks up against her, matching whatever rhythm she sets. God, she feels fantastic, and even if deeply ingrained defensive instinct is nagging at him to get himself out of this vulnerable position, he willfully ignores it. He instead occupies himself with memorizing her slightly swollen lips, the dark marks dotted along her neck and chest, the way her hair falls over her shoulders, the delicate curve of her breasts above him. ]
You're beautiful.
[ And the words escape him on a reverent whisper. ]
no subject
He understands what she's asking for, of course, but Peter has never been a particularly vocal person. She wants to hear him, apparently, and there's a small, traitorous part of him that thinks, Anything for you. It means he'll have to learn how to break the habit of restraining himself and keeping those damning sounds to caged and trapped.
He lets out a breath, offering a quick nod – an unsure gesture that seems to say, I'll try. She moves herself slowly along his length, and he lets himself give voice to the relieved noise that escapes him – though it's still quiet compared to Gamora's groan.
He rocks up against her, matching whatever rhythm she sets. God, she feels fantastic, and even if deeply ingrained defensive instinct is nagging at him to get himself out of this vulnerable position, he willfully ignores it. He instead occupies himself with memorizing her slightly swollen lips, the dark marks dotted along her neck and chest, the way her hair falls over her shoulders, the delicate curve of her breasts above him. ]
You're beautiful.
[ And the words escape him on a reverent whisper. ]