[ 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. ]
But his fingers are playing with her hair, and she smiles softly as he works out the light snags, her eyes sliding closed as she enjoys the attention. It's so gentle, diligent, and... sweet. ]
You could braid my hair, if you want to keep it out of the way.
[ And he asks it simply, continuing to gently comb through her hair. He likes the feel of it, how soft and cool the strands are when they slip through his fingers.
He pauses in his attentions, though, letting his hand rest lightly on the nape of her neck. ]
[ He relaxes a little with the gesture, with the reassurance, and after only another blink of hesitation, he continues on as he was, fingers threading through her hair. ]
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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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[ They both know how the Guardians can be.
But his fingers are playing with her hair, and she smiles softly as he works out the light snags, her eyes sliding closed as she enjoys the attention. It's so gentle, diligent, and... sweet. ]
You could braid my hair, if you want to keep it out of the way.
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[ And he asks it simply, continuing to gently comb through her hair. He likes the feel of it, how soft and cool the strands are when they slip through his fingers.
He pauses in his attentions, though, letting his hand rest lightly on the nape of her neck. ]
Is it bothering you?
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No; it's just a mess.
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I like it how it is.