[ If this had been just moments ago, Peter would've resisted more, would've made a point to remind them both that there's something wrong with Gamora, that sickness or poison or something is clouding her head, messing with her judgment.
But it's not moments ago. It's now, and a strange sort of heat surges through him impatience and need and want all knotted into a tangled mess, rolling through him, knocking down any restraint he might've had. She moans against him, and he makes a strained, needy noise in return, the hand at her cheek sliding back to tangle in her hair. His other hand leaves her shoulder, rucks up the hem of the too-large-for-her shirt so he can smooth his palm over the soft skin of her waist.
He presses in against her, crowding her against the counter, licking into her mouth. It's— shit, his skin feels two sizes too small, every nerve blazing with heat. Sweat beads against his skin, and his head swims, but as long as he focuses on Gamora, as long as he focuses on the shift of her body against his, it's fine, isn't it? ]
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But it's not moments ago. It's now, and a strange sort of heat surges through him impatience and need and want all knotted into a tangled mess, rolling through him, knocking down any restraint he might've had. She moans against him, and he makes a strained, needy noise in return, the hand at her cheek sliding back to tangle in her hair. His other hand leaves her shoulder, rucks up the hem of the too-large-for-her shirt so he can smooth his palm over the soft skin of her waist.
He presses in against her, crowding her against the counter, licking into her mouth. It's— shit, his skin feels two sizes too small, every nerve blazing with heat. Sweat beads against his skin, and his head swims, but as long as he focuses on Gamora, as long as he focuses on the shift of her body against his, it's fine, isn't it? ]