nostalgiabomb | riverview: ic contact;

[ He kicks his pants away, and when Gamora steps in, he wastes a second to watch her, to see the way the water falls against her skin, how it starts to plaster her hair to her neck and shoulders, how the rivulets and droplets cling to her curves, and—

It's only a handful of seconds, really, but Peter was mesmerized for all of them, and Gamora's voice snaps him out of it.

He casts her an unimpressed look (though the effect of it is negated by the fact that his jaw was practically on the floor only a moments ago), and he steps in behind her, reaching around either side of her to warm his hands in the spray. ]

Now who's impatient?

You were drooling when you should have been getting into the shower.

[ She leans back against him as he stands behind her, and for a moment, she lets her eyes slip shut, a content little smile finding its way to her expression. ]

I was not.

[ With her back to him, Gamora misses the pout he shoots her, but it shows in his voice.

But apparently he’s not so put out that he won’t wrap his arms around her waist or nose at her dampening hair. ]

I was waiting for you to settle in. You wouldn’t believe how many folks hurt themselves by slipping and falling in the shower.

[ She truly enjoys the moment she's able to rest against his chest, to enjoy his arms curling around her; she appreciates that she can enjoy it, that she isn't constantly on alert around him. She's safe here, and she knows that.

She reaches up to run her fingers gently over his neck, up to comb through his hair. ]

And you think I'm someone who would slip in the shower?

[ Psh. ]

[ He deadpans, ]

Bathroom safety isn’t something to scoff at, Gamora.

[ But the effect is ruined when the corner of his mouth twitches upward. He hums quietly as her fingers tangle up into his hair, eyes slipping closed. ]

I thought you’d be more impressed by my caution.

[ Her nails run absently over his scalp, scritching lightly behind his ear. She's not making any immediate move to reach for the soap or otherwise, seemingly content to stand naked with him under the water. ]

You may have to try harder to impress me.

[ Though Peter? Being cautious? Perish the thought. ]

[ He hums quietly, ducking down a little to press a quick kiss just beneath the hinge of her jaw. ]

Can I get any helpful hints, at least? Quick pointers?

[ Gamora tilts her chin, giving him slightly better access, but also so she can peer at him from the corner of her eye. ]

The flowers were a step in the right direction.

[ Because that had impressed Gamora; the amount of thought he’d put into the bouquet and the selection of blooms spoke to how much Peter listened to her, how important her stories were to him. ]

But I am not going to give you any “helpful hints,” otherwise.

[ Because Gamora is just plain unhelpful. ]

[ Now that she's looking at him, at least a little, she can witness the strength of his pout. ]

C'mon. Just a little one?

[ And he murmurs it against her neck, ducking down further to kiss the side of her neck. The water from the shower head falls over them, and he tastes it on her skin, revels in the warmth surrounding him.

(Fuck, this is nice. Why haven't they done this sooner, anyway?) ]

I mean, it's Christmas.

It is not actually Christmas.

[ Not by the Terran calendar, at least. (She’s pretty sure.)

Pouting though he may be, she seems unmoved as she allows the trail of kisses, reveling in each brush of his lips. It feels so effortless between them, and though Gamora doesn’t know the steps to this dance – this relationship thing – it’s all continued to be very much... them. Maybe the context has changed, maybe the extent of what they share has broadened physically and otherwise, but... he still feels like her best friend. They still feel as close as before – if not more so now.

She sighs at him, like he’s asking for such absurd things, but she allows herself to lean just a bit more into his chest, reaching behind herself with the hand not in his hair, to run a palm over his flank, fingers kneading lightly, affectionately up to his hip. ]

But if I was feeling generous – what kind of hint would you want me to give you?

Close enough.

[ He makes a quiet, approving sound as her hand travels up his side, and his arms tighten a little around her waist before he relaxes. He uncrosses his arms, his hands similarly running down from her waist, over her hips, and back up again. ]

Well, for starters—

[ This, murmured against her neck, low and warm. ]

—would you rather shower first or later?

[ She does adore the sounds he makes, how responsive he can be. Which is almost ironic, considering how often she might have rolled her eyes, insisted he talked too much, but now, she's charmed by it.

It helps that she can usually shut him up with a kiss these days, too.

She gives a thoughtful hum as her eyes slip shut to appreciate the broad palms that skirt over her hips. ]

It seems like a waste to shower first.

[ What's the point in getting clean if there will be more to deal with in the aftermath? ]

[ He hums again, and she can probably feel the way he grins against her. ]

Good. See, I was thinking the same thing.

[ And he traces light, delicate circles on the crease of her hip, nipping at her shoulder. ]

Wanted to make sure we were on the same page.

That happens on occasion.

[ She says it with the tone that implies that sometimes Peter has good ideas.

Of course, just for that smug grin of his, the nip of his teeth at her shoulder, she has to grind her ass back into his hips, though it's almost a ripple of her entire body, flexing in his grip as she presses herself to him. ]

[ Apparently he wasn't expecting retaliation, dense as he can sometimes be, and when she moves back against him, it drags a startled sound out of him.

See, he was half-hard before? Like, definitely working his way up there, but with the way she grinds against him, as her body shifts against his front, he's standing fully at attention, now. For a quick second, he feels the blood rush away from his head, and with one hand still on her hip, he pulls her in closer, rocking against her slowly.

Another nip at her shoulder, though this time it's more of a reprimand. ]

Give a guy some warning, huh?

[ Though his voice is a little huskier than before, breathier. ]

Why would I do that?

[ In return, her voice has adopted that low purr, teasing. She appreciates how easy it is to rile him up, how she can catch him off guard just enough to get such an honest response.

She can feel his cock sliding over her skin, slicked by water and warmed between them, and she rocks against him in return, grinding back for that friction.

Nails over his scalp again, nails digging into his hip, dragging teasingly up over his thigh before slipping around to squeeze his toned ass and drag him that much closer. ]

[ He lets out a low, pleased sound as she pulls him closer, as she grinds back against him, and he rocks against her, again and again.

Sometimes, he seriously hates how Gamora always seems to get the upper hand. Like, how is that even fair, honestly? He's the experienced one, here – you'd think he'd have a few tricks up his sleeve.

... Granted, well, he's naked. So he's not wearing sleeves. So maybe that's why—?

Okay, dude. Losing track of things, Quill. Focus up.

He bites at her shoulder again, another little reprimand. One hand slides from her hip to her breast, massaging her gently; the other slides down to the inside of her thigh, tracing designs just beneath her folds. ]

[ She growls as he bites her – though it's more a quiet rumble, at this point. ]

At least bite down if you intend to keep doing that.

[ Adopting a rhythm doesn't seem to be a problem for Gamora, and she likes the pressure of his cock above her tailbone, likes that proof of Peter's arousal. She didn't think she'd be turned on by seeing him turned on, but maybe it's that she enjoys feeling him keyed into her, into the way they touch.

She also likes grabbing him this way, apparently, because her nails latch onto his ass (not too hard), as a sort of handle to keep him moving into her.

(He has a really nice ass, though she will likely take that thought to her grave.)

She shudders as his hands travel over her skin, pale against green, and she curves into his fingers with an elegant bow of her spine – her breast pressed into his palm, her ass grinding properly into him as she shifts her legs apart for the teasing path of his other hand. He's just below where she wants him, where she wants that touch, but of course he's not making it easy. ]

[ He breathes out a dark little laugh at that complaint, and just as an act of good faith, in a manner of speaking, he dies bite down a little harder this time, just where her neck meets her shoulder.

Gamora can absolutely play him like a fiddle, and maybe a different dude might be embarrassed by that. Peter doesn't seem to care much, though; like, if he's enjoying himself, why shouldn't he let it show? Why wouldn't he throw himself into it?

His breath hitches as her nails dig in, and his cock twitches with it; he pulls her in more securely against himself, rutting against her a little harder, a little more purposefully. Still, he keeps his hand just south of her sex, massaging her inner thighs – one side, then the other – reveling in the way she tenses beneath his touch and shudders against him. ]

Mmn—

[ More of a purr with the added pressure of his teeth, sending another pronounced shudder down her spine, nearing a tremble.

She didn't think she'd be so responsive to something indirect, because his fingers haven't moved higher, aren't pressing to her clit or sliding inside of her, but she's still squirming, her thighs clenching as his hand moves between her legs. Dragging lines up his ass, over his hip, she leaves red marks in her wake, and this time, the sound that catches in her throat is definitely a proper growl. ]

This seems unbalanced.

[ Considering the friction he gets by rocking against her, compared to how he's continuing to tease her. ]

[ He hums quietly, a light, unconcerned noise.

(The nice thing, he thinks, now that he and Gamora are a thing, is that he's building up his tolerance again, learning to maintain his composure while she keeps doing some frankly mind-blowing shit to him.

Like grinding against him, not quite trembling but something awfully close, leaving red lines on his hips, his thighs, his ass.

Fucking awesome as their first time together had been, Peter still feels a little embarrassed to admit that it wasn't, like, his best showing. And considering the reputation Gamora had accused him of having, back on that balcony on Knowhere, he really wants to show her how close to the truth she had been.)

He smirks against her, letting the pads of his fingers coast just beneath her folds, barely brushing them. ]

Dunno what you could possibly mean.

[ Oh, somehow that's worse.

Her toes curl against the shower tiles, and rather than grind against him again, she tries to rock into his fingers – encouraging as much as it is demanding. ]

You are an— infuriating tease, Peter Quill.

[ Her breath absolutely did not hitch while she was trying to speak (yes, it did), and she tries to pass it off as she flexes the fingers still in his hair, knotting tightly, insistently as she seeks relief with a wriggle of her hips. She can only anticipate how wet she is, every jolt of attention and delicious feedback going right between her thighs, and it would be embarrassing if she actually cared about that.

Restrained as she can be, never eager to give much of anything away, she doesn't actively try to keep her responses from Peter. (It takes some learning to let go, but... that's not the same thing.) When being this close to him, touching him, teasing him in return, turns her on this much? She feels no shame in knowing what a slick mess she'll be when he finally does something. ]

[ Yeah, he definitely heard that crack in her voice, and he grins again. As she tries to move into his touch, he shifts away, his hand gripping the inside of her thigh to avoid giving her exactly what she wants.

For now, anyway. Just for now, because as much as he likes being an asshole, he likes watching Gamora lose herself even more. ]

I still dunno what you mean.

[ Primly, though the curl of his lips is obvious as he switches sides, mouthing the other side of her neck. ]

And anyway, is that really a criticism you wanna be throwing around? [ And there's that quiet hint of admonishment, even if it's in good humor. ] You, of all people.

[ After all, Gamora was starting to make a seriously dangerous habit of riling him up. Nothing had quite come of it yet, but there was a pretty clear pattern starting to emerge of Gamora enjoying taking her time, until he was writhing and whining with her touch.

(They should talk about that, he thinks. Because as storied and varied and occasionally buck-fucking-wild as some of his escapades had been, he had never had time to really... never found anyone he trusted enough to...

Experiment? Explore?

But that's a thought for later.)

But Peter's always been a bit of an impatient person, and when her fingers tangle in his hair, just the right side of painful, he sucks in a sharp breath. He gives up the game, little by little, and when he finally lets his fingers brush a little more surely against her sex, he feels the heat of her, the slickness of her. A soft, almost pleased sound punches its way out of him. ]

[ Her head tilts to allow him access to her neck, almost completely unbidden. She feels like someone has hit a switch to throw her body into autopilot – responding to Peter and the way he touches her without a thought; she just does it.

Of course, that doesn't curb the frustration that bubbles up when he grips her thigh, keeps denying her, and her breathing comes more harshly through her nose, her jaw clenching. It's odd, how the frustration makes her needy instead of furious – a different kind of experience for her. She doesn't respond by trying to flip the tables or put an end to his taunting, but she's letting him continue at his own torturous pace.

(Not that she wouldn't be opposed to simply grabbing Peter when she's had enough of the teasing and throwing him to the ground to demand what she wants.

As long as he would find that appealing.

The shower, however, is not the place for it.) ]

I don't know what you could possibly mean.

[ She repeats him, plays innocent, even when her voice comes breathy and low.

But finally, finally his fingers find her pussy, sliding against her and pressing, still teasing in an exploratory way. The groan that slips free almost startles her, and once again, her body rocks towards the attention, demanding, wanting. ]

[ This time, at least, he doesn't pull away as she rocks down against his fingers; instead, he applies a little more pressure, draws his fingers against her. His own breathing picks up a little, pulse pounding with the way she responds so freely, with each noise and press of her body against his. His breath gusts across her shoulder, the heat of it slightly muddled by the spray of the shower.

He slips a finger inside of her, then another, drawing them in and out in a slow, steady rhythm. With his free hand, he cups her breast again, massaging and teasing and pulling her a little more securely against his front. He noses at the hinge of her jaw, teeth dragging lightly along the sensitive spot. ]

Tell me what feels good.

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does ur own inbox need a nsfw warning

it's... probably fine..........

we know what filth is here......

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