nostalgiabomb | riverview: ic contact;

[ He tells her that a lot – that she's beautiful. It's not new, and she already feels confident in her looks. But it's the way he says it, how much he means it, that makes her turn a slightly darker green, her cheeks lighting up as she pants with the pleasure swirling between her legs, building higher and hotter as she keeps up the relentless pressure on her clit. ]

You're easy to please.

[ Her voice trails off on a gasp, a shuddering moan, and she slides her fingers down a little lower to trace where his cock is still buried inside of her. Slick coats her folds, smearing across her fingers, and she draws them back up, redoubles her efforts on her clit.

Her trembling is more pronounced. She has to abandon the hand on his knee to lean forward and brace on his chest to keep herself upright, pressing into the hands on her breasts as that rhythmic pulsing picks up the pace. She's so absurdly close, and that need-need-need to come isn't easing off. ]

I am not.

[ ... well, okay, Gamora may not be entirely off the mark, but there is a caveat, at least:

He's easy to please when Gamora is involved.

She's close and getting closer, and the way she tightens around him makes his own need difficult to ignore – difficult, but not impossible. Because she's fucking gorgeous above him with the way her mouth falling slightly open as she gasps, with the way her cheeks darken. His hands continue their work, massaging and feeling, his thumbs teasing at her nipples.

He keeps rocking up into her, those same little shallow thrusts as before, mostly involuntary. He feels his pulse pounding in his ears, his heart slamming against his ribs in a way he knows she can feel with her hand against his sternum.

He can feel how close she's getting to that edge, feeling the familiar flutter of her walls against his cock, hears the familiar, ragged pattern of her breathing. ]

Come for me, Gamora.

[ And this time, as his thumbs brush over her nipples, he follows it up with a rough pinch. ]

[ She's right there, her fingers moving faster, getting to the point where she doesn't think she could stop herself, even if she wanted to. Her pussy tightens, tightens, tightens again—

And it's too much.

Peter's voice and the sudden pinch of his fingers – a spark of that pleasure-pain that drives her crazy – throws her over the edge so fast it almost catches her by surprise. Her cry is a shout as she clamps down on his cock, a rush of her own come dripping around Peter as she helplessly bucks in his lap, her pussy locked in intense fluctuations of pressure with every wave of orgasm. She can never hold back her reactions when she comes, and this is no different as she shakes above him, mouth hanging open as moans and short whimpers fall past swollen lips.

(From the way she'd dug her teeth into them, from how intensely they'd kissed before.)

It takes her a few seconds (that feel like an eternity) to drop down off of that high, and she goes utterly boneless, panting as her elbow shakes with the effort to keep herself propped up. She doesn't slide off of his cock yet; if anything, she seems practically glued to him with the way she still holds onto his hips with her knees as the last of her climax keeps her flexing around him. ]

Peter—

[ Words are always so hard for her right after, but her voice is raw with emotion and awe and that mind-numbing pleasure. ]

[ And there it is.

A low, wounded noise escapes the back of his throat as he bites down on his lower lip. She clenches around him, almost impossibly tight and wet and hot, and her hips rock against him as she grinds herself against her fingers, relieving and maddening all at once.

He soaks in the noises she makes – something that's practically music to him, for as much as he enjoys it, and he watches her face as her orgasm overtakes her, as it ebbs away, bit by bit.

Beautiful, he thinks. God, she's beautiful.

She doesn't quite fall against him, but it's a close thing, he knows, with the way she trembles above him, as she struggles to catch her breath. The way she says even his name makes a bolt of want surge down his spine, and he lets out a shuddering breath of his own, reaching up to cup her cheek. ]

You wanna lie down?

[ She looks exhausted. ]

[ Peter's offer is a good one, honestly, and she's inclined to accept it, but she also wants to curl into him as close as she can. She's like that after sex – or even just after coming – wanting to wrap herself around Peter.

Like a koala, if she knew what a koala is.

She turns towards his hand, nudging her nose against his palm and pressing a few absent kisses to the heel. ]

Mmhmm.

[ And she looks down at him through her lashes, licking her lips (catching his skin with her tongue). ]

But don't pull out of me.

[ There's something, like, wildly hot about how Gamora gets when she comes. How she gets so soft and affectionate like a cat in a spot of warm sunlight.

He gently tugs her down to lie on top of him, knowing that when she's sated like she is, she relishes in the feeling of skin on skin, likes to curl up against him – and Peter loves all of that, too. ]

C'mere.

[ Gamora doesn't hesitate for an instant when he guides her down against his chest, and she curls into him immediately, nosing gently at his jaw as she settles. She presses absent, doting kisses across his skin, up to the corner of his mouth, smoothing her palm over his shoulder. She just wants to touch him, be close to him, but instead of the heated rush of before, it's so much more languid. Gamora can almost never put herself out of her own mind enough to relax like this in other situations, but with Peter, it's like she's forgotten to be constantly on guard, always prepared and alert.

No, when she's like this, she's purely in the moment, soaking him up entirely. ]

[ He wraps an arm around her shoulders, his other hand loosely playing with the curls spilling across her back, over her shoulders to tickle against his skin.

(And the thoughts come unbidden: whatever it is they have to face if they head back. Thoughts of Thanos wreaking havoc in their world, of taking Gamora from them, and all the risks that entailed.

"We have time," Peter had said a couple of months ago, ever the reluctant optimist. But how much time? And knowing what they know, will they take it back with them? Can they change things, or are they just— stuck, and doomed to live through everything Mantis told them?

Is he going to lose her?

Because if he does, if Thanos takes Gamora away from them, if they can't get her back—

Peter thinks it might actually kill him.)

Peter bites down on the inside of his cheek and shuts his eyes. He noses at her hair, taking in the scent of her shampoo, before he presses a quick, gentle kiss to the swell of her cheek. ]

[ Gamora doesn't seem to notice the concerns on his mind. She's so lost in her post-orgasm haze that she's simply reveling in the attention.

She smiles as he kisses her cheek, and on a soft sigh— ] I love you. [ —comes so easily.

She pulls back – not far enough for any real separation – to look at his face, to focus that sweet look right on him. ]

[ Those words again, and he feels that flood of warmth burst through his chest again, stealing his breath.

And when she pulls back to look at him, Peter doesn't have to try very hard to smile in return, soft and warm. He buries away those misgivings, the dark thoughts that sneak up on him in silent moments. ]

I love you, too.

[ And he says it with all the ease of breathing. ]

[ And hearing it makes that smile on her lips sweeten all the more (if it can even be possible). She leans in to press their foreheads together, lips barely apart. ]

I never want to lose this.

[ Him. What they have. This beautiful, indescribable thing that they share.

The sex is good, too. ]

[ The words give him pause, make something sour and tighten unpleasantly in his gut.

He swallows, licking his lips, bringing up both hands to curl over either side of her jaw, something almost possessive in the gesture. His eyes slip shut for a second, brow furrowing. ]

We won't.

[ And he says it quietly, a bare whisper in the quiet. There's determination there, and a tremor, too, caused by a heavy, loaded emotion he refuses to name.

(fear.) ]

We won't. I promise.

[ It pulls Gamora out of her dreamy haze, just a bit, to see the nervousness in his face, that concern and pause. Her hands move up to rest on his chest, her thumbs framing his clavicle, settled on either side of his neck. ]

I will hold you to that.

[ And her voice is quieter, almost conspiratorial – that softness gone to a promising edge of... hope? Determination?

(Even if in her own mind, she doesn't know how it can be true. If they're going back to the very nightmare she's dreaded since running from Thanos, how can they make it through to the other side?

How? How?

How?)

She closes her eyes, her jaw tightening a bit under his hands. ]

—Hey.

[ And the word escapes him on a rough exhale. He brushes his thumbs along her cheeks, just beneath the silver lines of her scars. ]

Hey. I promise you, we won't lose this. Okay? I promise on everything. On my life, even.

You're stuck with me, no matter what.

[ She breathes out on a slower draw, tipping her chin down and turning her face into his hands. ]

No matter what.

[ She repeats it because she wants to believe it so badly, and trying to grasp the reality of the future is too painful.

(What will they go back to? What will their world be like?

How long will they have left?)

She reaches to press a hand over Peter's on her face, tilting her nose back up to find his lips. She needs that kiss, as much reassurance as it can provide.

(This is stupid. Being this emotional is stupid.) ]

[ And he kisses her, needing that reassurance just as much as Gamora does.

They have time – or at least, they have the time that whatever this weird limbo in Riverview can afford them. Time for themselves and time to prepare for whatever bullshit awaits them back home. There's time, he tells himself. They have all the time in the world.

He licks past the seam of her lips, glides his tongue over hers, revels in the warmth of her skin, the solidness of her atop him. They're here, for now, and they have each other, and Peter has gotten a little better about leaving in the moment, rather than clinging to the past.

He's never had to worry about the future until recently, and he finds more and more that he doesn't exactly like it.

It's why he tries his best to push it from his mind entirely, at least for now. ]

[ If she shoves it out of her mind, she doesn't have to think about it. She can exist with Peter in this moment, here, and savor every last second of it.

Because this is all that matters. Her family is all that matters. Peter—

God, Peter.

She'll protect him with everything.

With her life. With whatever it takes.

She presses into the kiss, into him, her fingers squeezing his. She's his, here, and he is hers, and she's not going to let that go. Shifting over him, her hands slip onto his chest again. She doesn't straighten up, because she doesn't want to pull away or break the kiss, and instead, she kisses him deeper, her tongue twisting with his as she breathes him in. ]

[ They need this, and his hands still frame her face, his thumbs still sweep over the swell of her cheeks.

He focuses on this: the heat of her mouth. The wet glide of her tongue. The softness of her lips. The sound of her breath and the damp gust of it over his skin. The weight of her above him, and the warmth of her hands on his chest.

His mood had flagged terribly, once those dark thoughts had flitted to the surface, but that feeling of want from minutes ago is gaining traction again, speeding up his heartrate, turning his grip a little tighter along the line of her jaw – though he's still careful, still mindful. After a few moments, his hips start rocking against her of their own accord, and he's largely unconscious of it, focused as he is on her. ]

[ Good.

Because this is better. This lets her lose herself the way she really needs to right now. She isn't floating in that daze her orgasm had put her in before, but that makes her more keenly aware of where they touch.

Hers.

She wants to remember that and hold onto it.

He moves under her, slow, with an easy rhythm for her to follow as her hips roll with his. Her fingers dig into his chest lightly, kneading as she smooths her hands across his skin. ]

I'm here.

[ She murmurs it against his lips, not truly breaking the kiss to speak. ]

[ He doesn't waste breath with answering aloud – which is funny, maybe, considering of the two of them Peter is the one who constantly wants validation, wants to hear the words aloud, as if speaking them provided them more weight, more depth.

I'm here, she says, and Peter exhales, something just barely voiced as his hand tightens over the line of her jaw, and the small sound of it borders on desperate. (afraid.) She didn't go very far, but he still pulls her back in to properly kiss her, to slot his lips over hers. ]

[ It's only for a bare second that they're apart, but even that feels like too much.

She kisses him with everything that she has, but instead of riding him again, finding that rhythm over, she tightens her knees around his hips. She leverages them both to roll onto their sides without so much as budging Peter from inside of her, as she keeps one leg carefully hitched over his to drag him as close as he can get. Her breathing is getting heavier by increments as she refocuses on their connection, like that will keep anyone from ever tearing them apart.

It's foolish; she knows it's foolish, but that doesn't stop her from having those brief moments of looking for something to cling to. ]

[ He lets out a quick, startled noise as she shifts them, though the way her knees lock around his hips keep them from having to reposition. In a different moment, he might offer a few words of praise for the maneuver.

But as it is right now, he rocks against her, each thrust becoming a little sharper, a little harder. One of his hands finds the small of her back, guiding her to meet each snap of his hips. ]

Gamora—

[ A heated whisper against her lips, something that might've been a growl if it were even just a little louder. ]

[ She'll never get enough of the way he says her name. The quality of his voice sends that singing heat through her again as he leads the pace, keeping her in perfect sync with every sharp thrust.

Her fingers slip up, tangling in his hair and holding him close, keeping him there for presses of lips, the near clack of teeth. It's intense, but in a different way from before: she wants to cement being alive with him.

Like that's enough to beat back their demons.

A flicker of that fear makes her pull at Peter's messy curls, her breathing hitching on a needy moan. ]

[ The kiss turns messy, almost bruising, and that feeling of need ramps up in him, sends his blood boiling and singing through his veins by turns. He bites at her lips, breathing heavily and letting out a small, pleased sound when she tugs at his hair.

Those sparks traveling down his spine pool together, building and building into a flame, and he lets out a breathless groan of his own against her lips. He pulls her in more firmly against him, his hand shifting from her back to the meat of her thigh, fingers digging into firm muscle. ]

Fuck— [ Moaned out, breathless and heated. ] Fuck, Gamora, I'm close, I'm—

[ She loves seeing him at this point: need gets the better of him as he chases after his orgasm, just within reach. He grabs her harder, fucks her with abandon, and the dip in his voice sends thrills running up and down her spine.

Her fingers tighten in his hair, pulling that much more, her other hand coming down to curl around his jaw and keep his face so close to hers. ]

Come for me. [ Her voice is hoarse, torn between a purr and a growl. ] Do it, Peter, come for me.

riverview: ic contact;

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