[ Peter's pretty sure Gamora never swears unless they're in bed together, and— listen, it's really goddamn hot when Gamora starts losing control, bit by bit. When her grip becomes a little tighter, when her nails dig in a little deeper, when swears and curses fall from her lips – either because it doesn't occur to her to be "decent," or because there's no other way to express herself.
She's getting close, he thinks, judging by the way she twitches and jerks and writhes beneath him. He's not too far behind, he thinks, and he pants against her shoulder, breath hot against sweat-damp skin.
When she wraps her legs around him, though, keeps him from pulling back, he lets out a small, muffled noise of surprise. He rocks against her still – small, shallow movements of his hips, though the way she's wrapped her legs around him means he can't drive into her with anywhere near the force he had already been using.
He shifts onto an elbow, reaching up to cup her cheek, thumb brushing over the corner of her mouth. ]
no subject
She's getting close, he thinks, judging by the way she twitches and jerks and writhes beneath him. He's not too far behind, he thinks, and he pants against her shoulder, breath hot against sweat-damp skin.
When she wraps her legs around him, though, keeps him from pulling back, he lets out a small, muffled noise of surprise. He rocks against her still – small, shallow movements of his hips, though the way she's wrapped her legs around him means he can't drive into her with anywhere near the force he had already been using.
He shifts onto an elbow, reaching up to cup her cheek, thumb brushing over the corner of her mouth. ]
You okay? You need something different?