[ She clenches around him, and it punches another quiet sound from him. He rests his hands on her back for a moment, enjoying her touch, the way her grip tightens at his shoulders.
She's wetter than she was earlier, thanks to what remains of his own cum and her second orgasm, but she feels as fantastic as she did earlier, her walls wet and tight around him. Gamora looks gorgeous above him, her curls falling over her shoulders, her skin flushed and mottled by the marks he had brought to the surface.
He runs his fingertips over a bruise low on her neck, feels that prickly, dark flare in his chest again, but before he can examine that sensation too closely, his thoughts scatter when she grinds against him. His teeth catch his lower lip as he cages in the sound that tries to escape him, turning it instead into a sharp exhale. ]
[ He’s so quiet, so restrained, and Gamora gets it, she knows who and how he is. But —
She opens her eyes to watch him, gnawing her bottom lip as she keeps grinding and rutting against him, while staying as close as she can get. She reaches up, cupping his jaw and thumbing the little dent in his lip, coaxing it of his teeth.
(She releases her own when she speaks.) ]
You don’t — have to hold back.
[ Soft, a little ragged. ]
I want all of you.
[ Everything he wants to share with her.
Finally, after just enjoying how full she feels, she’s lifting her hips, dragging herself up and up, only to drop back down the full length of his cock with a throaty groan. ]
[ 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. ]
[ Of course it's not the first time someone has told Gamora that she's beautiful. She's heard it time and again, and as much as she may be aware that she's attractive, it's different hearing it so genuinely from Peter.
It sits in her belly, overwhelming her.
Her breathing catches, her body tensing as her cheeks flush for an entirely different reason, but she doesn't look displeased; on the contrary, she's practically thrumming with the praise.
It's just different with Peter.
Her own sounds fall freely as she moves with Peter, falling into an effortless rhythm that satisfies some deep, burning need she'd been ignoring. She'd wanted to explore Peter more thoroughly, to wring sounds out of him however she can, but god, this, this moment, the way he's looking at her – it's intoxicating.
She bends over him, bracing herself again so she can kiss him, heat and something more burning between their lips. ]
[ With as intently as he's watching her, he sees that subtle change – the hitch in her breath, the flash of color on her face, the way she momentarily freezes. She practically glows after those two words, and there's something about that reaction that makes warmth suffuse his chest. He files the thought away for later.
For now, he lets out a small, relieved sound the instant her lips meet his. He was a heartbeat away from pushing himself up to do the very same, needing an outlet for the heat and want storming through his system. He licks into her mouth, curling a hand a little possessively over the nape of her neck.
(That dark, faint thought again: Mine.)
He rocks into her, bracing her with one hand curled around her hip, matching the rhythm she sets. Her pussy is wet, hot, tight around his cock, and he lets out a few sounds that would have been quiet swears, if his mouth weren't occupied. He can feel that golden heat buzzing through him, down his spine, feels that slow and steady build. ]
[ The sounds are small by almost any measure, except that Gamora knows they're monumental for Peter. She knows how much any kind of noise or display of affect might be a show of weakness, but Peter is trusting her with this, this small thing.
The part of her that isn't swept away by the pleasure racing through her is basking in what Peter is sharing.
Her own moans and whimpers are lost in the kiss, a groan that she can't contain as she's held close, as she keeps fucking herself on his cock, again and again and again—
She breaks away to pant against Peter's mouth, the noises needy and pleading, almost, as she gets that much closer to yet another orgasm. It feels farther off, less of a concern, because what really matters is seeing Peter come again, feeling it, feeling him. ]
[ There was a point where he thought Gamora was too loud, too vocal, but at this exact moment? He's pleased for it, drinking in every mewl and groan, memorizing the eager, wanting pitch of her voice. She sounds perfect like this, and he wants to wring every noise of pleasure from her.
He drives into her, feeling the way she stutters, the way her walls clench around him. He's not entirely sure just yet, doesn't quite know the signs that betray her next climax, but he thinks he may be on the right track. Her breaths are ragged against his lips, damn and hot, threaded with the occasional groan and whimper. He can feel himself getting close, too, feels himself getting herded to that sweet edge. ]
Fuck, Gamora—
[ Whispered against her lips, and his hand tightens on the nape of her neck, on the curve of her hip, as he fucks her.
And suddenly he's falling, coming apart, and he groans against her mouth, her name on his lips, followed by a few quiet oaths and swears. ]
[ He's cursing and he's saying her name, and it's intoxicating. It's still quiet, but it's more, and that deep groan that follows, every word on his lips, is music to her ears. She wants to listen to him on repeat, wants to do every damn thing to push him to this point and more.
They'll have time later.
Plenty of time.
Gamora is still shaking over him, panting for breath, trembling with the sensations rocketing through her. She didn't hit that peak again, but after everything, that's not a concern; watching Peter get to that second orgasm was perfect.
She pants raggedly for air, her arm shaking as she keeps herself propped up, finally opening her eyes to look down at him. The smile tugging at her lips is so warm, so sweet, so real, and she rests her forehead against his, so blissed out. ]
[ He takes his time catching his breath, hands roaming over her back as he winds down from that high.
It didn't slip his notice that she didn't come with him, and he frowns a little. Some of his concern is smoothed away when he sees that smile on her face, so shockingly pleased and affectionate, and his chest clenches for it, heart leaping to his throat at how beautiful she looks like that.
A dangerous little thought: he'd give anything to see her like that, again and again.
She rests her brow to his, and he leans up into the touch. Her hair tickles against his skin where it falls over her shoulders, and he brings up a hand to cup her cheek.
He lets the moment just— breathe.
Then, ]
... Fuck.
[ Though there's a wryness to the tone. Apparently he's not done teasing her yet. ]
[ And he delivers it blandly, with only a touch of irony.
He reaches up, tucking a few of her fallen locks back over her shoulder before he curls a hand over the line of her jaw again. He sweeps his thumb over the swell of her cheek, his expression warm with open affection. ]
[ It's hard for her to keep that unamused air or even to come up with a rebuttal; Peter is looking at her with so much warmth, it's stealing her breath away. She can't focus on sarcasm when all she wants to do is enjoy Peter.
She leans down again for a soft kiss, smiling against his lips. ]
Are you sure we have to go back to the others tomorrow?
[ He cards his fingers through her hair again, something idle, practically unthinking. He likes the weight of her atop him, likes the long line of heat from her body against his. There is a great deal of appeal in lying like this for as long as they have the time for it. ]
Is there anything pressing we need to attend to? Other than possible damage control, that is.
[ But, admittedly, even if it didn't necessarily mean time with Peter, she'd still enjoy another day not being crammed into her tiny ship with the others.
She shifts to lie more properly against him, rearranging herself and tucking her face against his neck to nuzzle in close. ]
[ He rests his hand on the back of her head, pausing to enjoy the heated brush of her breath against his neck, the quick, ticklish sensation of her lashes against his skin. ]
Seems counterproductive, considering we just discussed saving up for a ship.
[ Of course, he says that, but his tone is light, unconcerned. An extra night in a hotel is hardly going to break the bank, they both know. It'll be no worse than whatever surprise expenses are sure to fall into their path. ]
[ This is genuinely unfamiliar to Gamora; she's never hung around for long after one of her trysts, but with Peter, she doesn't want to get any farther from him than this.
She hums absently, though she doesn't sound convinced. ]
[ In that tone of voice that implies that they cannot, in fact, stay in this bed for the entire duration of their stay, as tempting as that might seem.
He pauses, running a hand along the line of her arm. She seems comfortable like this, and there's— still something a little strange about it all, that she could manage to feel so relaxed around him. If anyone else knew as much about his past as Gamora does, he imagines they would feel like spending time alone with him, let alone in such an intimate setting, must feel like sitting in a room with a ticking time bomb.
He shoves the thought aside, pressing a gentle kiss to her brow. ]
It's probably too much to hope they've gone to bed.
[ In all likelihood, they've found their own way to some dive bars and are currently drinking their spending money away. It does seem to be the majority of the Guardians' favored pastime.
He cards through her hair again, taking the time to appreciate how soft her curls feel as they slip through his fingers. He catches on a few tangles, likely caused by what they've gotten up to tonight, and gently works them out. ]
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She's wetter than she was earlier, thanks to what remains of his own cum and her second orgasm, but she feels as fantastic as she did earlier, her walls wet and tight around him. Gamora looks gorgeous above him, her curls falling over her shoulders, her skin flushed and mottled by the marks he had brought to the surface.
He runs his fingertips over a bruise low on her neck, feels that prickly, dark flare in his chest again, but before he can examine that sensation too closely, his thoughts scatter when she grinds against him. His teeth catch his lower lip as he cages in the sound that tries to escape him, turning it instead into a sharp exhale. ]
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She opens her eyes to watch him, gnawing her bottom lip as she keeps grinding and rutting against him, while staying as close as she can get. She reaches up, cupping his jaw and thumbing the little dent in his lip, coaxing it of his teeth.
(She releases her own when she speaks.) ]
You don’t — have to hold back.
[ Soft, a little ragged. ]
I want all of you.
[ Everything he wants to share with her.
Finally, after just enjoying how full she feels, she’s lifting her hips, dragging herself up and up, only to drop back down the full length of his cock with a throaty groan. ]
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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. ]
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It sits in her belly, overwhelming her.
Her breathing catches, her body tensing as her cheeks flush for an entirely different reason, but she doesn't look displeased; on the contrary, she's practically thrumming with the praise.
It's just different with Peter.
Her own sounds fall freely as she moves with Peter, falling into an effortless rhythm that satisfies some deep, burning need she'd been ignoring. She'd wanted to explore Peter more thoroughly, to wring sounds out of him however she can, but god, this, this moment, the way he's looking at her – it's intoxicating.
She bends over him, bracing herself again so she can kiss him, heat and something more burning between their lips. ]
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For now, he lets out a small, relieved sound the instant her lips meet his. He was a heartbeat away from pushing himself up to do the very same, needing an outlet for the heat and want storming through his system. He licks into her mouth, curling a hand a little possessively over the nape of her neck.
(That dark, faint thought again: Mine.)
He rocks into her, bracing her with one hand curled around her hip, matching the rhythm she sets. Her pussy is wet, hot, tight around his cock, and he lets out a few sounds that would have been quiet swears, if his mouth weren't occupied. He can feel that golden heat buzzing through him, down his spine, feels that slow and steady build. ]
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The part of her that isn't swept away by the pleasure racing through her is basking in what Peter is sharing.
Her own moans and whimpers are lost in the kiss, a groan that she can't contain as she's held close, as she keeps fucking herself on his cock, again and again and again—
She breaks away to pant against Peter's mouth, the noises needy and pleading, almost, as she gets that much closer to yet another orgasm. It feels farther off, less of a concern, because what really matters is seeing Peter come again, feeling it, feeling him. ]
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He drives into her, feeling the way she stutters, the way her walls clench around him. He's not entirely sure just yet, doesn't quite know the signs that betray her next climax, but he thinks he may be on the right track. Her breaths are ragged against his lips, damn and hot, threaded with the occasional groan and whimper. He can feel himself getting close, too, feels himself getting herded to that sweet edge. ]
Fuck, Gamora—
[ Whispered against her lips, and his hand tightens on the nape of her neck, on the curve of her hip, as he fucks her.
And suddenly he's falling, coming apart, and he groans against her mouth, her name on his lips, followed by a few quiet oaths and swears. ]
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They'll have time later.
Plenty of time.
Gamora is still shaking over him, panting for breath, trembling with the sensations rocketing through her. She didn't hit that peak again, but after everything, that's not a concern; watching Peter get to that second orgasm was perfect.
She pants raggedly for air, her arm shaking as she keeps herself propped up, finally opening her eyes to look down at him. The smile tugging at her lips is so warm, so sweet, so real, and she rests her forehead against his, so blissed out. ]
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It didn't slip his notice that she didn't come with him, and he frowns a little. Some of his concern is smoothed away when he sees that smile on her face, so shockingly pleased and affectionate, and his chest clenches for it, heart leaping to his throat at how beautiful she looks like that.
A dangerous little thought: he'd give anything to see her like that, again and again.
She rests her brow to his, and he leans up into the touch. Her hair tickles against his skin where it falls over her shoulders, and he brings up a hand to cup her cheek.
He lets the moment just— breathe.
Then, ]
... Fuck.
[ Though there's a wryness to the tone. Apparently he's not done teasing her yet. ]
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She props herself up, giving him an unimpressed look. ]
So eloquent.
[ But she still can’t tame her smile. ]
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[ And he delivers it blandly, with only a touch of irony.
He reaches up, tucking a few of her fallen locks back over her shoulder before he curls a hand over the line of her jaw again. He sweeps his thumb over the swell of her cheek, his expression warm with open affection. ]
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She leans down again for a soft kiss, smiling against his lips. ]
Are you sure we have to go back to the others tomorrow?
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That depends.
[ He cards his fingers through her hair again, something idle, practically unthinking. He likes the weight of her atop him, likes the long line of heat from her body against his. There is a great deal of appeal in lying like this for as long as they have the time for it. ]
Is there anything pressing we need to attend to? Other than possible damage control, that is.
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[ They could probably find something, but Gamora hasn't arranged anything immediate, if only because there was nothing in close range. ]
We have to be at the Farlot station in three cycles, but that's all.
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[ Short, pensive, though not in any genuine way. His other hand runs along her back, fingertips tracing the curve of her spine. ]
The others might appreciate the extra time to stretch their legs.
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[ But, admittedly, even if it didn't necessarily mean time with Peter, she'd still enjoy another day not being crammed into her tiny ship with the others.
She shifts to lie more properly against him, rearranging herself and tucking her face against his neck to nuzzle in close. ]
We could buy another night here.
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Seems counterproductive, considering we just discussed saving up for a ship.
[ Of course, he says that, but his tone is light, unconcerned. An extra night in a hotel is hardly going to break the bank, they both know. It'll be no worse than whatever surprise expenses are sure to fall into their path. ]
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She hums absently, though she doesn't sound convinced. ]
One more night won't make a dent in our savings.
And besides, the time will be worth it.
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Then, ]
Fine. One more night.
I don't think we can get away with much more than that, though.
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[ There's only so long the others can be trusted on their own.
Gamora finds herself drawing small patterns on Peter's shoulder, following scars with utmost care – and a bit of fascination. ]
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In fairness to the others, they did manage to take care of themselves before they met us.
[ A pause. Then, ]
But, yes. You're probably right.
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[ By breaking out of prison or living on a planet with one other person or living with family and then prison.
It's not a wonderful track record. ]
We can let them know whenever we eventually get out of this bed.
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[ In that tone of voice that implies that they cannot, in fact, stay in this bed for the entire duration of their stay, as tempting as that might seem.
He pauses, running a hand along the line of her arm. She seems comfortable like this, and there's— still something a little strange about it all, that she could manage to feel so relaxed around him. If anyone else knew as much about his past as Gamora does, he imagines they would feel like spending time alone with him, let alone in such an intimate setting, must feel like sitting in a room with a ticking time bomb.
He shoves the thought aside, pressing a gentle kiss to her brow. ]
It can wait till morning.
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They probably wouldn't answer now, anyway.
[ Who knows what they've gotten into in the time they've already had? ]
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[ In all likelihood, they've found their own way to some dive bars and are currently drinking their spending money away. It does seem to be the majority of the Guardians' favored pastime.
He cards through her hair again, taking the time to appreciate how soft her curls feel as they slip through his fingers. He catches on a few tangles, likely caused by what they've gotten up to tonight, and gently works them out. ]
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