[ Deep, eager, Gamora presses into the kiss, her lips molding to Peter's as she allows him to dictate the pace. She's in no rush, because she has nowhere to be but here, in Peter's bed and Peter's arms, and she has nowhere else she'd rather be.
She finds a rhythm with ease, though she keeps it slow, keeps her ears pricked for reactions, her senses keenly attuned to him. She's happy to alternate pressure, speed, focus depending on what gets the best noises, what makes him twitch and buck a little harder – even if her attention is torn between the movement of her hand and Peter's talented mouth.
(She's infinitely grateful that he's already a good kisser.)
Breaking away just to catch her breath, she eases back from Peter to drink him in for a few heartbeats as she pants softly. ]
... You look good like this.
[ Her voice is a little lower, darker as her thumb traces circles around the head of his cock. ]
no subject
She finds a rhythm with ease, though she keeps it slow, keeps her ears pricked for reactions, her senses keenly attuned to him. She's happy to alternate pressure, speed, focus depending on what gets the best noises, what makes him twitch and buck a little harder – even if her attention is torn between the movement of her hand and Peter's talented mouth.
(She's infinitely grateful that he's already a good kisser.)
Breaking away just to catch her breath, she eases back from Peter to drink him in for a few heartbeats as she pants softly. ]
... You look good like this.
[ Her voice is a little lower, darker as her thumb traces circles around the head of his cock. ]