[ He pauses when her hand rests over hers, waiting to see if she'll try to push him away. Instead, she just touches him, lets him move, and so he does – massaging her breast, teasing her nipple to attention with quick swipes of his thumb.
She muffles herself, her hand pressed against her mouth to cage in the sounds, and he looks up from his attentions. God, she looks good like that, so intent on his touch, but he reaches up with his other hand to wrap his fingers lightly around her wrist. He tugs gently, but he doesn't force her hand away. ]
[ She hesitates for all of a second when Peter tugs at her wrist. He likes hearing her, he says, and she gets that, and if she wants to coax plenty of sounds out of Peter later, she can't reasonably silence herself. He lets him tug her hand back, and she licks her lips, looking up at him with that darkened look.
[ He releases her wrist, and when she offers that unsteady smile, he mirrors it. ]
Much.
[ He returns to bringing another mark to the surface of her skin, this time just beneath her collar bone, before he moves on. He continues to massage one breast, but his mouth finds the other. He nips lightly at the lower curve of her tit, listening and watching her carefully. Peter tends to be observant in general, but he's putting those skills to good use now. It's not unlike watching an opponent for a weak point.
Though instead of landing a killing blow, he just wants her to moan for him, to twist and arch beneath his touch. He knows Gamora's experience in bed outpaces his own, but he's willing to learn, at least where she's involved. ]
[ She has the vague thought that, later, she really will be covered in these dark green marks.
That doesn't bother her in the slightest.
But he shifts down, the heat of his mouth trailing lower until she feels the graze of his teeth, light but present enough to make her gasp and arch. Her now-freed hand grabs at the blankets by her head, her eyes closing as she focuses on the sensations. It's careful in a way she knows well – the feeling-each-other-out stage, though Gamora doesn't always invest so much time into it.
There's a soft mewl of his name as she bends one of her knees, digs her heel into the bed. ]
He licks a slow stripe along the swell of her breast, the flat of his tongue dragging over the bud of her nipple. He explores her with his mouth, nipping and mouthing and laving designs along her breasts and stomach, creating a network of those fine scars with gentle presses of his lips. He can hear her heartbeat speeding up again, listens to the way her breath hitches where he hits something sensitive, but it's those whines, those soft little mewls that he's really aiming for.
Peter tends to be a perfectionist; if he's going to do something, he wants to do it right. ]
[ She's not paying close enough attention to realize he's moving from one scar to another, following them with his tongue as he teases her. For the most part, her scars aren't a real concern, considering they're just a fact of the life she'd led. She gets into all kinds of scrapes, always has, and wearing the evidence of close calls is an inevitability.
The only one that really bothers her is the deep burn on her back. She tries not to think about that one.
Her skin is sensitive all over, but it's when his tongue draws across her nipples that he gets those little whines out of her, attention at those points of tender nerve endings to make her whimper. He's not focusing there, by any means, which is probably why she squirms progressively more the longer his mouth wanders, the more he moves over every inch of her chest.
[ She arches up against him as he wanders close to her breasts, unconsciously trying to guide him where she wants him. She's been surprisingly patient as he explored, and while that certainly deserves a reward—
—he instead continues to take his time. He's focused on his work, on learning her body by touch and taste, on soaking in the warmth of her against his bare skin. (He's always preferred being warm; it makes lying with Gamora all the more pleasant on a slightly drafty ship.) The way she whimpers and whines makes something golden pool in his gut, makes something dark and heated twist in his chest.
He thinks he could do this all night.
Maybe later on, he will.
But at length, he finds her breast with his mouth again, teeth pinching lightly at the lower curve of one before he teases the sensitive bud of her nipples with another drag of his tongue. He brings it between his lips, licking and sucking. His hand cups her other tit, gently squeezing and massaging, smoothing his thumb over her other nipple. ]
[ Patience may be a virtue, but it's not one of Gamora's.
And yet, even as Peter agonizingly takes his time, she doesn't complain. She lets him kiss and lick and nibble wherever he wants, without trying to clamp down on how she mewls for him, how she twists into the attention.
But then—
He really focuses.
Her cry is a little surprised, but she's immediately arching to press into his mouth, one hand grabbing at the sheets, the other burying fingers in his hair; she's not trying to pull, but there's a deeper pressure in the way she clings to him. He's primed her for the more focused attention with the way he's traced every inch of her tits before actually homing in on her nipples, and she feels extra tender, extra keyed up. ]
[ She responds beautifully, he thinks, letting out a quiet, barely voiced sound of approval as she arches up against him. He keeps up his attentions, swirling and dragging his tongue, nipping lightly at the sensitive bud. He shifts to her other side, swapping his hand for his mouth. He watches her face as he moves – takes in the flush on her face, the way her mouth has fallen open as she pants for breath, the fall of her lashes against her cheek.
God, she’s beautiful, though he can’t quite bring himself to say the words aloud – and that’s only partially due to the fact that his mouth is occupied. ]
[ It feels fucking amazing, and distantly, Gamora might realize she's mumbling something like that in between her gasps and moans, but she's also getting so wound up that it's hard for her to focus. ]
Peter—
[ His name comes out on a needier whine, and her hips shift and squirm on the bed, her knee pushing against Peter's ribs – not to necessarily move him, but for an outlet to the frantic energy bolting through her. Her noises aren't necessarily loud, but they're incessant, little sharp inhales, gasps, whines, as he just keeps teasing her. ]
You— You're enjoying this— [ A whimper. ] —way too much.
[ He pauses in his work, his thumb brushing idly over her skin – not to draw things out (though that would absolutely be a page from his own playbook), but to genuinely consider her words.
After a breath, he lets out another hum, this time in agreement. He offers her small challenging smile again before closing his lips around her nipple, flattening his tongue against it. ]
The heat of his mouth presses around her nipple, the infuriating drag of his tongue making her bow sharply with another pronounced whine. ]
No, but— [ She pants for breath, frustratedly tugging a the blankets. She can't really make any good arguments for why he shouldn't be enjoying this or why he should stop, since it feels fantastic, but she's starting to get the impression that he just wants her frustrated and needy.
... Which she also understands, but it feels very unfair to be on this side of that equation. ]
[ He pauses again, lifting his head to study her. The frustration and the impatience are coming off her in waves, and it shows in the way she’s completely tongue-tied, that near constant stream of words dammed up.
He offers a slow, solemn nod, the corner of his mouth twitching slightly as he smothers his smirk.
Drier than a desert: ]
Compelling.
[ He drops a quick, gentle kiss to her breast; when he speaks again, he doesn’t pull back, letting his lips brush gently against her sensitive skin. ]
She makes an immediate sound of protest – small, but pronounced. She lifts her head enough to look down at him, but ugh, the teasing brush of his lips— ]
—No.
[ She gasps it out, letting her head fall back onto the bed. ]
[ He smothers another smile, his hand running down her side in a quick soothing sweep. ]
Then is there something I’m doing that you don’t like?
[ He asks it in that same, mild tone, but he’s watching her carefully. She seemed to be enjoying herself, and Peter mostly assumes she’s complaining just to complain; it’s a bad habit of hers, after all. Still, he wants to make sure that his assumptions are founded. ]
[ She shakes her head immediately as she tries to take a steadying breath, to try and calm herself down (because if Peter is going to keep teasing her, she's only going to get more and more needy). ]
[ He presses one hand into the mattress to hold up his weight, and he lets his hand drift down to her pussy. His fingertips skim over her slick quivering folds, feather-light and quick. ]
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
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She muffles herself, her hand pressed against her mouth to cage in the sounds, and he looks up from his attentions. God, she looks good like that, so intent on his touch, but he reaches up with his other hand to wrap his fingers lightly around her wrist. He tugs gently, but he doesn't force her hand away. ]
I like hearing you.
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She manages a breathy smile. ]
Better?
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Much.
[ He returns to bringing another mark to the surface of her skin, this time just beneath her collar bone, before he moves on. He continues to massage one breast, but his mouth finds the other. He nips lightly at the lower curve of her tit, listening and watching her carefully. Peter tends to be observant in general, but he's putting those skills to good use now. It's not unlike watching an opponent for a weak point.
Though instead of landing a killing blow, he just wants her to moan for him, to twist and arch beneath his touch. He knows Gamora's experience in bed outpaces his own, but he's willing to learn, at least where she's involved. ]
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That doesn't bother her in the slightest.
But he shifts down, the heat of his mouth trailing lower until she feels the graze of his teeth, light but present enough to make her gasp and arch. Her now-freed hand grabs at the blankets by her head, her eyes closing as she focuses on the sensations. It's careful in a way she knows well – the feeling-each-other-out stage, though Gamora doesn't always invest so much time into it.
There's a soft mewl of his name as she bends one of her knees, digs her heel into the bed. ]
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He licks a slow stripe along the swell of her breast, the flat of his tongue dragging over the bud of her nipple. He explores her with his mouth, nipping and mouthing and laving designs along her breasts and stomach, creating a network of those fine scars with gentle presses of his lips. He can hear her heartbeat speeding up again, listens to the way her breath hitches where he hits something sensitive, but it's those whines, those soft little mewls that he's really aiming for.
Peter tends to be a perfectionist; if he's going to do something, he wants to do it right. ]
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The only one that really bothers her is the deep burn on her back. She tries not to think about that one.
Her skin is sensitive all over, but it's when his tongue draws across her nipples that he gets those little whines out of her, attention at those points of tender nerve endings to make her whimper. He's not focusing there, by any means, which is probably why she squirms progressively more the longer his mouth wanders, the more he moves over every inch of her chest.
Fuck, it's distracting. ]
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—he instead continues to take his time. He's focused on his work, on learning her body by touch and taste, on soaking in the warmth of her against his bare skin. (He's always preferred being warm; it makes lying with Gamora all the more pleasant on a slightly drafty ship.) The way she whimpers and whines makes something golden pool in his gut, makes something dark and heated twist in his chest.
He thinks he could do this all night.
Maybe later on, he will.
But at length, he finds her breast with his mouth again, teeth pinching lightly at the lower curve of one before he teases the sensitive bud of her nipples with another drag of his tongue. He brings it between his lips, licking and sucking. His hand cups her other tit, gently squeezing and massaging, smoothing his thumb over her other nipple. ]
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And yet, even as Peter agonizingly takes his time, she doesn't complain. She lets him kiss and lick and nibble wherever he wants, without trying to clamp down on how she mewls for him, how she twists into the attention.
But then—
He really focuses.
Her cry is a little surprised, but she's immediately arching to press into his mouth, one hand grabbing at the sheets, the other burying fingers in his hair; she's not trying to pull, but there's a deeper pressure in the way she clings to him. He's primed her for the more focused attention with the way he's traced every inch of her tits before actually homing in on her nipples, and she feels extra tender, extra keyed up. ]
Fuck—
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God, she’s beautiful, though he can’t quite bring himself to say the words aloud – and that’s only partially due to the fact that his mouth is occupied. ]
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Peter—
[ His name comes out on a needier whine, and her hips shift and squirm on the bed, her knee pushing against Peter's ribs – not to necessarily move him, but for an outlet to the frantic energy bolting through her. Her noises aren't necessarily loud, but they're incessant, little sharp inhales, gasps, whines, as he just keeps teasing her. ]
You— You're enjoying this— [ A whimper. ] —way too much.
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After a breath, he lets out another hum, this time in agreement. He offers her small challenging smile again before closing his lips around her nipple, flattening his tongue against it. ]
Should I not be?
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The heat of his mouth presses around her nipple, the infuriating drag of his tongue making her bow sharply with another pronounced whine. ]
No, but— [ She pants for breath, frustratedly tugging a the blankets. She can't really make any good arguments for why he shouldn't be enjoying this or why he should stop, since it feels fantastic, but she's starting to get the impression that he just wants her frustrated and needy.
... Which she also understands, but it feels very unfair to be on this side of that equation. ]
That's— nnh.
[ Yep. No good arguments. ]
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He offers a slow, solemn nod, the corner of his mouth twitching slightly as he smothers his smirk.
Drier than a desert: ]
Compelling.
[ He drops a quick, gentle kiss to her breast; when he speaks again, he doesn’t pull back, letting his lips brush gently against her sensitive skin. ]
Do you want me to stop?
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She makes an immediate sound of protest – small, but pronounced. She lifts her head enough to look down at him, but ugh, the teasing brush of his lips— ]
—No.
[ She gasps it out, letting her head fall back onto the bed. ]
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Then is there something I’m doing that you don’t like?
[ He asks it in that same, mild tone, but he’s watching her carefully. She seemed to be enjoying herself, and Peter mostly assumes she’s complaining just to complain; it’s a bad habit of hers, after all. Still, he wants to make sure that his assumptions are founded. ]
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No— it feels— good. [ Amazing. ] Very good.
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He lets out a quiet, knowing hum, ducking his head again. ]
Then why are you complaining?
[ And the question is murmured against her sternum, lips brushing gently against her skin before he presses a kiss there. ]
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... Actually, why is she complaining? She's been dreaming and fantasizing about this with Peter for so long, and now he's right here, so...
Another quiet, frustrated sound as she squirms under him. ]
Because you're just teasing me.
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I didn’t realize.
[ Which is a bald-faced lie; Peter knows exactly what he was doing, but he delivers it flatly anyway. ]
I thought you were enjoying what I was doing.
[ Another slow drag of his tongue, another quick bite, and his other hand gently squeezes her neglected tit. ]
It might help if you told me what you wanted.
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(He knows exactly what he's doing.) ]
I want to cum.
[ Which she's less shy about admitting when the alternative is Peter continuing to drive her up the wall. ]
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Right.
[ He hides his smile against her breastbone under the guise of leaving another kiss. ]
I thought we were working our way toward that.
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[ This is half-muttered under her breath, because she knows Peter is doing this on purpose. ]
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[ And he reaches up, fingertips ghosting over a bright spot that promises to be a bruise later.
He is absolutely being purposely obtuse, and this time, he lets her see his almost impish smile. ]
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She knew he was messing with her. ]
But I don't remember saying you should tease me until I accidentally soak the bed.
[ Part of it is definitely his cum, too, but she's so horridly aroused again, and the longer he makes her wait, the worse it gets. ]
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You didn't say I couldn't, either.
[ He presses one hand into the mattress to hold up his weight, and he lets his hand drift down to her pussy. His fingertips skim over her slick quivering folds, feather-light and quick. ]
Tell me what you want, then.
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