[ Gamora is being totally, willfully, maliciously unhelpful, right now, and—
You know what? Peter can’t really resent her for it, even if he wants to, not when it feels this fucking good.
Once she’s stripped of her pants, Peter readjusts, settling between her legs and falling forward against her. He buries his face against her neck, rocking into her hand. He keeps mouthing at her throat, her shoulder, alternating between open-mouthed kisses and quick, teasing bites, though he’s often interrupted when he catches his lower lip with his teeth to cage in a desperate, needy moan when her grip is just right. He splays his hand around her hip, his thumb tracing the blade, but when she strokes him this time, heat slams through him, and his grip on her hip tightens. ]
Fuck. [ And it’s moaned against her shoulder, a shudder running down his spine. When he gets his breath back, he props himself back up on an elbow. ]
no subject
You know what? Peter can’t really resent her for it, even if he wants to, not when it feels this fucking good.
Once she’s stripped of her pants, Peter readjusts, settling between her legs and falling forward against her. He buries his face against her neck, rocking into her hand. He keeps mouthing at her throat, her shoulder, alternating between open-mouthed kisses and quick, teasing bites, though he’s often interrupted when he catches his lower lip with his teeth to cage in a desperate, needy moan when her grip is just right. He splays his hand around her hip, his thumb tracing the blade, but when she strokes him this time, heat slams through him, and his grip on her hip tightens. ]
Fuck. [ And it’s moaned against her shoulder, a shudder running down his spine. When he gets his breath back, he props himself back up on an elbow. ]
God, Gamora, let me— I want to—