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[ 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.

[ She tenses with an odd combination of relief and a twisting heat that coils in her belly the second his fingers press inside of her. He finds that easy rhythm, and Gamora's hips arch into it as she lets herself lean against his chest.

Her eyes slip shut to enjoy the sensations, teeth dragging across her bottom lip as her head falls back onto his shoulder. She can't keep still, doesn't want to as long as she doesn't displace Peter, and— ]

Just keep—

[ Oh, words are difficult now.

She moves one hand to settle over Peter's on her breast, guiding his fingers to pinch her nipple with a little more force, earning another short gasp. ]

You don't— have to be so gentle.

[ There, at least that was a full sentence.

She likes gentle, of course, likes that he treats her with kindness and a sort of reverence that still startles her, but she also won't break or lash out if he takes a few more liberties with her. ]

Edited (this was an important edit) 2018-01-12 17:44 (UTC)

[ He hums quietly – a surprisingly muted response, at least to himself, considering the way heat surges through him as she guides his touch, as she grinds and moves and falls against him.

Peter knows well enough that Gamora isn't delicate by any means, even if she might look it to someone who doesn't know her or her reputation. He knows she can take a lot more physical punishment than he ever could and would bounce back faster, besides. Still, he can't help being careful, a little hesitant, because he doesn't know how much of this is new to her, still, how much is strange or unfamiliar ground.

But she at least seems to know what she wants, and he pinches her nipple again with the same force she had applied earlier. He does it again, this time with a quick little twist, before he returns to massaging her, his touch firmer and more sure.

And still he pumps in and out of her with his fingers, feeling the way her slick walls clench around him, and he exhales sharply against her neck when that sharp sense of desire strikes through him. His fingers curl slightly, the pad of his thumb brushing lightly over her clit. ]

Yes—

[ The gasped word escapes her before she can stop it. She squirms again with the pinches, that little twist, and she trembles in his arms without an ounce of self-consciousness.

And if she thought she was enjoying his fingers before, oh, it’s even better as they curl inside of her, that pressure over her clit making her buck suddenly into the attention. ]

Peter—

[ His name is on loop in her mind, even if she only barely manages to whimper it now as her fingers knot and pull again at his hair. She tugs firmly, unwittingly, writhing with the stimulation coming from so many different directions, and she loves every ounce of it.

If he stops, she’s definitely going to murder him. ]

[ God, Gamora is so hot. That thought spins in his own head with perfect clarity, and as she gasps, driving herself into his hand, he lets out a quiet groan against her shoulder. He hisses as her grip tightens in his hair, rocking himself against her back.

But he keeps most of his attention on her, on how she responds, and he thrusts his fingers in and out, with a little more purpose, a little faster, a little harder. His thumb presses against her clit in time with each thrust, and he pinches at her nipple again, twisting it the same way he had before. ]

God, you sound so good. You're so hot like this.

[ He breathes it against her skin, slick with the shower's water, and he noses at the line of her jaw. ]

Come for me.

[ Every part of this seems to heighten the experience – the quality of Peter’s voice, the press of his chest to her shoulders, cock rocking along the dip in her tailbone, his fingers plunging into her over and over and over. Just the right spot, just the right pressure, just the right everything.

It’s harder for her to control the sounds slipping out on each breath, but the difference is that she isn’t trying to contain herself or muffle what’s tumbling past her lips – because part of her wants Peter to know what he’s done to her. This isn’t the time or place to be removed, and as much as she never wants to give herself away—

She doesn’t mind if Peter is the one to see it.

She’s so close, too, only driven higher by Peter’s words vibrating against her skin, ringing in her ears, and something tight and hot just coils in her belly, lightning rocketing up her spine in licks of sparks. So close, so close, so close—

And she comes with his name flying unbidden from her lips in a cry as she arches sharply against him one last time, water hitting her breasts and her stomach and her neck, and she doesn’t even notice, doesn’t care, as pleasure and heat ripple through her. She should probably be more mindful of how she’s pulling at his hair, how her nails drag up his hip, leaving more than plentiful marks in their wake. The sensations keep going, and she keeps bucking into him a few seconds longer, until finally she’s limp and boneless in his arms.

She’s going to need a second. ]

[ He can feel the way he drives her closer and closer to the edge with how she pulls at him, the way she drags her nails along his leg and hip. His own breathing becomes heavier and heavier as she moans and sobs, as she squirms against him, as her walls clench around his fingers.

And then she comes, his name on her lips, and he he works her through it, biting down on her shoulder, rocking against her in turn. He sucks in a sharp breath when her nails leave trails on his skin, when her grip yanks at his hair, but he doesn't bother stopping her. (Later, he'll examine the scratch marks and think to himself, Fucking awesome.)

And when it's over, when she leans back against him, spent and exhausted, he kisses at her temple, at her cheek, slipping out his fingers and rubbing small, gentle circles on her hip. ]

[ Gamora's grip finally eases on him until she's simply cupping the nape of his neck, her other hand finding his forearm to rest lightly over his own. Her body is thrumming with warmth in the aftermath of her orgasm, an easy, breathless smile on her lips, and she turns her head to nose gently at his jaw, wherever she can reach.

She may not be one for verbal praise, but her entire posture is practically singing with how amazing that felt, how wonderful she still feels. But soft, almost mumbled, ]

... Perfect.

[ (She's not unaware of Peter still pressing against her back, but she's basking for a few extra moments.) ]

Edited 2018-01-14 19:11 (UTC)

[ Oh.

That makes him grin – smug and infuriating at any other time, probably. It's probably for the best she can't quite see the full force of it, but she'll certainly hear it when he says, ]

Thanks. I try my best.

[ Though even when he tries to imbue his voice with a light, irreverent sort of humor, there's still a certain breathlessness to it, a dark little shadow that betrays a little of the need still pulsing through his veins.

But, hey, he can wait, especially considering Gamora is might as well be broadcasting her satisfaction over a loudspeaker. Totally worth it. ]

[ It probably has something to do with the endorphins still bouncing around in her system, but she just rolls her eyes at Peter instead of actually admonishing him.

... Or she's distracted enough by the quality of his voice, that breathy edge of need, to care too much about how smug he may or may not be.

She licks her lips, finally turning in his arms to let the water sluice over her back and shoulders. Rather than keep any measure of distance between them, she presses herself flush against Peter's chest, her breasts against skin, his cock sliding tantalizingly over her stomach. ]

And how should I return the favor?

[ It helps that she knows there's no obligation, she knows she doesn't have to, but damn, she wants to.

Her fingers drift up his throat, thumb tracing the hinge of his jaw to his ear as she watches him with her own measure of darkness. Amazing as that may have felt, it didn't necessarily quench her own libido. ]

What do you want?

[ Unconsciously, he lets out a small, dismayed noise as she pulls away, though he quiets soon enough as she presses against him, his cock caught between them where it curves toward his own stomach. A noise gets punched out of him, and his hands come to rest on her hips. His eyes go half-lidded as he ruts against her. ]

Whatever you want.

[ And that's not an answer, but seriously, whatever is good enough for him, at this point. A part of him thinks he could probably come like this, grinding himself against her stomach. Hell, she could leave him to his own devices, if she really wanted. Water drips down his face, falling in rivulets down their bodies, and his skin feels overheated, stretched too thin and made oversensitive. ]

Mm, that was not what I asked.

[ She slides her hand higher to brush over his face, wiping away water and pushing wet curls back from his forehead. ]

I asked what you want.

[ She likes seeing him like this, though – eyes glazed over, want and need thrumming through every inch of him – and she can practically hear his heart slamming against his ribs with every hitch in his breath. Those little noises that seem just beyond his control are exhilarating, if only because it feels like a glimpse of how freely she could coax responses from him, if she tried.

The hand not on his face traces his shoulder, over his chest – mapping out scars and muscles alike – to trail lower and lower along his stomach. ]

[ He falls quiet for a moment, appreciating the way her fingers briefly card through his hair, the way her touch lingers as it trails down and down and down. He's lost in it for a second, as though trying to predict where she might trail, but he comes back to himself soon enough. ]

Just— anything.

[ Panted out, the sound of his voice nearly lost in the white noise of the water hitting the tile.

But he doubts Gamora's going to accept that answer, and he makes a quick decision: ]

Your hand.

[ Because that seems the most expedient, if he's honest. And blowjobs in the shower sound great, up until your knees are met with unyielding tile and water is getting into your nose and someone slips and bangs their head—

Let's not discuss how much personal experience Peter has on that front. ]

[ This is probably the most practical option for them now. The shower isn't an ideal location for much, because the potential to slip and fall doing almost anything curbs some enthusiasm. But jerking him off? She can do that.

Her fingertips rub slow circles over his stomach, relishing the way his muscles leap and tense, and she slides lower still, to finally wrap her hand around him. All those little mental notes she made of what wrung the best responses out of him, she puts to good use now, stroking along his cock to squeeze and twist, sweeping her thumb over the head. The pace is much less teasing this time, purposeful because he's been so generous, so diligent with her, and she wants to return the favor. ]

Is this what you need?

[ Leaning closer to breathe against his skin, trailing kisses and nips wherever she can reach to taunt him, tease him. ]

[ 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.

[ She lets him cling to her, hold her close, flush against him, and she can practically hear the hammering of his heartbeat, latching onto every ragged gasp and moan.

"Just like this," she can do.

She drags her teeth along his throat, higher to murmur against the shell of his ear. ]

One day, I'm going to make you beg for me.

[ And that's so much a promise as it might be a threat.

Her wrist twists on another upward stroke, pausing at the tip to trace over sensitive skin over and over in a slow circle. ]

I want you undone.

[ Undone and needy and pleading.

If he lets her, if he trusts her enough to see him that way. ]

[ His breath catches with each drag of her teeth, each press of her lips, each twist of her wrist, and as she whispers against his ear, he—

Okay. That’s. That’s a good fucking promise, apparently, because he lets out a sound that’s very nearly a whine, and he thrusts into her hand desperately, almost frantically. And when the tempo changes, when her hand pauses at the tip of his cock, he stops breathing entirely, hips rocking to urge her back into the same rhythm.

Yeah, he wants to say, definitely on board with that, but coherent thought has escaped him, now. He thinks his voice might have spilled from him at some point, spiraling down the drain with the rest of the water, and all he’s left with is this – the feeling of her hand, her body, her lips and teeth and tongue and breath on him. His grip tightens in her hair, as much to keep her in place as a way to anchor himself.

All he can really manage is another strained, needy noise, and a quick nod. Yep. Yeah. Sounds fucking awesome. ]

[ ... How is it that he sounds even better like this?

A growl rumbles against his ear, approval as much as it is want. The message is broadcast loud and clear, even if he can't find his voice, can't summon up the words he needs to agree with her. He'll look so good under her hand, pleading and squirming and driven closer and closer to the edge until she wants to grant him that release.

Of course, today, she does want to let him come, wants to make him come, which is why she falls into rhythm again. Not too fast, not too slow, but steady and unfaltering. ]

For now, I want you to come for me.

[ Purred into his ear, accompanied by another nip. ]

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