nostalgiabomb: (091)
Peter Quill ([personal profile] nostalgiabomb) wrote 2018-01-17 06:56 pm (UTC)

[ it feels like it takes ages as her hand wanders downward, as she explores the plane of his stomach, as he tenses and twitches with her touch. But when she finally wraps her hand around him, he lets out a groan, relieved and wanting all at once. He worries, for a brief second, that she’s going to just tease him again, that she’s going to herd him slowly toward that edge until he’s sobbing and begging for it, but—

Thank god, he thinks with that first solid stroke, and his moan this time is a touch louder, trailing off into a low, heated curse. He buries his face against his shoulder, panting against her as he holds her close – one hand tensing over the small of her back with each stroke or twist, the other tangling into her hair at the nape of her neck, plastered against her skin with the water of the shower.

She asks him a question, and for a second, he can only answer with a small, pleased sound and a nod, tilting his head to one side to give her more space to maneuver. Eventually he finds his voice, or at least some of it, and he rasps out, ]


God, yeah. Yes. Just— just like this.

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