[ His lips part with her teasing, inviting and warm, and more than a little greedy.
But his focus is split, tracking the path her fingers take along his chest, almost like he's trying to predict where her touch will go. He's almost surprised she gives as much attention to his scars as she does – most of the time, they tend to get ignored. Too loaded with possibilities, he guesses. Makes folks nervous.
Stabbed with a fork, sliced open with impossibly sharp claws – those are the ones Gamora knows, of course. Not exactly shining moments for him, but, hey, he survived. And he's survived other trials, too. The faded, clean line of a stab wound, earned when he was 15. The punched out skin from a bullet, just as old. Smaller nicks and cuts and bruises from running around outside the Quarantine's walls.
He smooths one of his hands up and down her thigh, the other placed between her shoulder blades to help keep her in place. His fingers itch to explore her bare skin, as she is with him, but he's waiting on some signal of permission. ]
no subject
But his focus is split, tracking the path her fingers take along his chest, almost like he's trying to predict where her touch will go. He's almost surprised she gives as much attention to his scars as she does – most of the time, they tend to get ignored. Too loaded with possibilities, he guesses. Makes folks nervous.
Stabbed with a fork, sliced open with impossibly sharp claws – those are the ones Gamora knows, of course. Not exactly shining moments for him, but, hey, he survived. And he's survived other trials, too. The faded, clean line of a stab wound, earned when he was 15. The punched out skin from a bullet, just as old. Smaller nicks and cuts and bruises from running around outside the Quarantine's walls.
He smooths one of his hands up and down her thigh, the other placed between her shoulder blades to help keep her in place. His fingers itch to explore her bare skin, as she is with him, but he's waiting on some signal of permission. ]