[ Yep, he definitely saw that coming, and he sighs playfully. ] This is gonna backfire on you, you know. You've pretty much given me a reason to never stop talking, if this is how you shut me up.
[ At her touch he inhales slowly and thinks, A month is too fucking long. It's a shame he can't really return the favor in kind, given the way her outfit is put together, but his fingertips run along her hip, skimming along her exposed skin.
[ She really needs to do something about that combat suit of hers- it's such an inconvenience sometimes. Still, she feels his fingers skim along her hip, and she hums in appreciation.
She flexes her fingers, letting her nails scrape along his chest. ]
Did you miss me that much? [ Her voice has dropped a little lower, and she glances up at him through her eyelashes ] Laying in your bed all alone, did you think about me? Did you close your eyes and imagine me, straddling your hips, my fingernails digging into your skin, my tongue tracing the contours of your collar bone-?
[ The more she goes on, the more breathy her tone becomes, though there's no denying the wicked edge there either. She presses close, her hips against his ] Did you dream about fucking me? About how warm and wet I am, about how amazing it feels to be inside me?
[ She smirks, something blazing behind her eyes ] Do you want to be inside me, Peter?
[ Holy shit, this is new. This is new and totally fucking awesome. Well, relatively new -- they had done the phonesex thing, sure, when describing this shit was a necessity. This is different, because she's here, right here, where he can touch and see her, and holy shit, that look in her eyes is making his pulse pound in his ears. Peter's breathing becomes a little irregular as she speaks, and, admittedly, she was way better at this than he was (probably because of all that reading she does on the side). He licks his lip, and as she describes each act, he's totally imagining it -- and god damn does he want to do all of that.
Like, twenty times. Right the fuck now.
... Shit. A month is way too fucking long, and he can feel himself getting hard. ]
Yes. [ And his voice is definitely getting husky, distant, like he's already losing track of what he's saying. He inhales sharply at the feel of her hips against his. ] Fuck. Yes, uh-huh. All of that sounds awesome.
[ Admittedly, it was the phonesex thing that gave her the idea, because she had wanted nothing more than to see his reactions. That, and turning Peter on to the point where he could barely think straight turned her on like nothing else.
She chuckles, the sound dark and wanting, and she gives one last press of her hips against his erection before stepping away. She grabs him by the lapels of his coat and starts guiding him across the room, towards the open bedroom door ]
I dreamt about you, too. [ She's walking backwards, giving the occasional glance over her shoulder to make sure she doesn't hit the doorframe or the wall. For the most part, her eyes stay on him. ]
I dreamt about your lips, trailing kisses all over my body- and your tongue, hot and wet against my skin. Mm, and your teeth, clamping down my me hard enough to leave marks. Hard enough to make me moan in pleasure.
[ They're in the bedroom now, and she slides his coat off of his shoulders. She's a little flushed, breathing a little harder. It's possible she's working herself up a little bit too, but she keeps going ] I dreamt you had your head between my legs, tasting me, fucking me with your tongue. Making me come with just-- your-- mouth-- [ she enunciates each word, leaning up to nibble and suck on his earlobe ] And kissing me with my taste on your lips.
[ And fuck she's never wanted anything so badly in her life. She grabs him by the front of the shirt, and backs herself into the edge of the bed, taking him with her. ]
[ For a long while, the only thought Peter has is holy shit on repeat. Holy shit, and her hips are pressing against his. He moans, head tipping back against the wall, but all too soon she's gone. Holy shit, and she's pulling him along by his jacket. He follows her lead eagerly, hands on her hips to guide her even as she's taking care to watch where she's going. Holy shit, as they make it to the bedroom, his jacket falling to the floor, and he's letting out a shuddering breath at the feel of her lips and teeth on his ear.
Just. Ho. Ly. Shit.
When her legs hit the bed, he moves instantly, maneuvering the both of them so that she's sitting on the edge of the mattress. He doesn't settle, though, opting instead to silence her with a kiss -- because, seriously, she is driving him fucking wild with that imagery (holy shit who knew her bibliophilia would come in handy like this? And he wonders if maybe she has some trashy romance novels she's been studying, tucked somewhere dark and secret so he wouldn't make fun of her for it). He tangles his hand in her hair (longer, now, longer than he remembers, and holy shit holy shit holy shit she looks good with this style, but she'd look good in anything.
She would especially look good in nothing).
The angle is odd for him, definitely, with the way he's bent to maintain the kiss, tongue teasing in and out of her mouth, swirling against her own tongue (and holy shit he's missed the taste of her), but it's worth it. He's really fucking missed this, missed being at her side. Sharing a bunk has spoiled him, he realizes, and he knows now that he cannot handle a month without waking up next to her, without waking up to her smile or her sleepy, murmurred "good mornings" (and how strange that is, when he it used to be that he would wake up to different faces nearly every day and never give a damn, but now, holy shit never again never ever ever).
His other hand is working at the zipper to her battlesuit, and maybe he's getting greedy now, but it has been a very. Long. Month. ]
[ She kisses him back greedily. Probably wise that he decided to shut her up- she doubts she would have been able to keep up the whole dirty talk thing, worked up as she was.
God, she missed him. She missed being close to him, sharing a bed and music and... just life in general.
But she's not exactly in the frame of mind to contemplate spending the rest of her life with Peter Quill- right now she's focused on his mouth, on the way his tongue teases around hers, and the hand bringing the zipper of her combat suit down. She's more than happy to let him. He might be surprised to find she's wearing something black and lacy and composed of very little fabric underneath her clothes.
[ He pulls, as he calls it, the leotard-thing down (and he makes a mental note to possibly suggest she switch to something like a shirt for easier access and removal, especially when he's feeling as impatient as he is right now), and with it hanging around her hips, he gets the chance to appreciate just how little her underthings actually cover.
God damn, his mind says helpfully. ]
God damn. [ He says aloud, because it seems appropriate. His voice is pitched low, but there's a sort of raw honesty in it. ] I just want you to know? You're fuckin' gorgeous.
[ He just wanted to get that out there before he busied himself with pressing a kiss to her throat, then another lower down, where lower, where he pauses to swirl his tongue in the dip between her collar bones. He trails lower and lower down, alternating between kissing and laving and biting at her pale skin, until he's kneeling on the floor in front of her, hands gripping the fabric at her hips, one thumb hooking into the waistband of her underwear. His teeth scrape against her lower stomach -- not enough to leave marks, not yet, and he glances up at her for permission, tugging at the suit and at the waistband of her pants. ]
[ She's already flushed, still breathing hard as he undresses her, but his comment makes her blush in a very different way. Peter's never been particularly eloquent, but when he says things like that, she knows he means them.
She leans back a little, bracing herself with her hands, head falling back with a sound somewhere between a sigh and a moan as he works his way lower and lower still with his mouth. She knows where this is going, and she can't help the little wave of anticipation that rolls over her. She glances down at him, eyes half-lidded. ]
Please do. [ God, she sounds breathless already. ]
[ And with that, he slowly pulls her clothing off, taking his time as he reveals every inch of her bare skin.
There isn't much ceremony to the way he discards her clothing -- he just adds it to the growing pile along with his jacket. One of his hands traces the tattoos on her side, grazing along the swirls and twists of the blue lines trailing her leg. For a moment he drinks in the sight of her, appreciating how she looks flushed and wanting and beautiful.
With a lick of his lips, he moves to kiss the inside of her thigh, trailing upwards and moving closer and closer to her pussy. He takes his time, teeth scraping against the skin of one leg before turning his attentions to the other.
Yep, definitely taking his sweet time, moving close to her folds then backing away to lick and suck and kiss her hips, her thighs, anywhere he can comfortably reach. With the images she conjured running through his head, he wants to make sure this is good, that this lasts. ]
[ She both loves and hates that he's taking the time to tease her, to work her up. (Not that she needs the help, really. She's already so very wet and she wants him so badly- she wants to feel his tongue slide over her folds, and flick at her clit and god dammit the anticipation is driving her crazy.)
Try as she might to control herself, she squirms. ] Peter...
[ It's caught between a moan and a whine. Fuck, she's really going to lose it soon. ]
[ He smirks at the sound of her voice, running his tongue up her thigh, up her hip, until he's looking directly at her. ]
Peter what? [ It's low and throaty, and fuck he's going a little crazy himself at the sight of her, at the sound of her voice, but he wants to take care of her, show her just how long a month it's been for him.
[ she glances down at him, thinking you little shit despite the things the tone of his voice was doing to her.
Then their gazes lock and she suddenly decides, fuck it. It would be a stupid waste of time to try to one-up each other. Especially when she practically has I want you to go down on me right the fuck now written across her forehead in neon letters.
So instead she grinds out a desperate, pleading, ] Please...
[ He grins, and the way her eyes blaze with desire sends heat pulling in his gut. ] All you had to say.
[ He moves back down, hands on her thighs to spread her further apart. For a moment he continues to tease along her legs, kissing and licking and biting, moving closer and closer to her pussy -- but rather than move away and continue on, as he did before, this time he runs his tongue along her folds from the bottom to the top, then slowly moves the tip of his tongue against her clit, drawing lazy circles there. It's after a few seconds of this that he shifts again, his tongue entering her, and he really sets to work.
Maybe he's not too great with words, maybe he doesn't have the expansive vocabulary that Maya does, but he's been able to talk his way out of or into more than one situation or other. What he lacks in eloquence he more than makes up for with his clever tongue -- and there's more than one use for that, as well. ]
[ There are a lot of things to be said about Peter's smart mouth. Sometimes it gets him into trouble, or he spouts too many references for his own good (she's gotten good at keeping up, though. And he laughs at all the reading she does) and then sometimes he--
Oh.
Oh. ]
Oohhhhh God...
[ She moans, breathless, arching her back and clenching her hands into the crisp white comforter. She wasn't lying when she said she'd dreamt of this- but holy shit did it feel so much better than she could ever imagine. Every swipe of his tongue, every little movement and slow little circle turns her muscles to jelly and it's all she can do to stay upright. Her grip on the bedding tightens as she fights the urge to rock her hips, to grind against his questing tongue.
Her legs are quivering, pleasure pounding through her body in time with her rapidly beating heart.
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[ She steps closer, pressing right up against him ] But I guess since we've got the whole place to ourselves, there's no real need to be quiet.
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You talk a big game, beautiful, but I won't believe it till I see it.
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Mm. Good thing I intend to show you.
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In a sing-song voice, he says, ] I'm waitiiiing.
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She flexes her fingers, letting her nails scrape along his chest. ]
Did you miss me that much? [ Her voice has dropped a little lower, and she glances up at him through her eyelashes ] Laying in your bed all alone, did you think about me? Did you close your eyes and imagine me, straddling your hips, my fingernails digging into your skin, my tongue tracing the contours of your collar bone-?
[ The more she goes on, the more breathy her tone becomes, though there's no denying the wicked edge there either. She presses close, her hips against his ] Did you dream about fucking me? About how warm and wet I am, about how amazing it feels to be inside me?
[ She smirks, something blazing behind her eyes ] Do you want to be inside me, Peter?
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Like, twenty times. Right the fuck now.
... Shit. A month is way too fucking long, and he can feel himself getting hard. ]
Yes. [ And his voice is definitely getting husky, distant, like he's already losing track of what he's saying. He inhales sharply at the feel of her hips against his. ] Fuck. Yes, uh-huh. All of that sounds awesome.
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She chuckles, the sound dark and wanting, and she gives one last press of her hips against his erection before stepping away. She grabs him by the lapels of his coat and starts guiding him across the room, towards the open bedroom door ]
I dreamt about you, too. [ She's walking backwards, giving the occasional glance over her shoulder to make sure she doesn't hit the doorframe or the wall. For the most part, her eyes stay on him. ]
I dreamt about your lips, trailing kisses all over my body- and your tongue, hot and wet against my skin. Mm, and your teeth, clamping down my me hard enough to leave marks. Hard enough to make me moan in pleasure.
[ They're in the bedroom now, and she slides his coat off of his shoulders. She's a little flushed, breathing a little harder. It's possible she's working herself up a little bit too, but she keeps going ] I dreamt you had your head between my legs, tasting me, fucking me with your tongue. Making me come with just-- your-- mouth-- [ she enunciates each word, leaning up to nibble and suck on his earlobe ] And kissing me with my taste on your lips.
[ And fuck she's never wanted anything so badly in her life. She grabs him by the front of the shirt, and backs herself into the edge of the bed, taking him with her. ]
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Just. Ho. Ly. Shit.
When her legs hit the bed, he moves instantly, maneuvering the both of them so that she's sitting on the edge of the mattress. He doesn't settle, though, opting instead to silence her with a kiss -- because, seriously, she is driving him fucking wild with that imagery (holy shit who knew her bibliophilia would come in handy like this? And he wonders if maybe she has some trashy romance novels she's been studying, tucked somewhere dark and secret so he wouldn't make fun of her for it). He tangles his hand in her hair (longer, now, longer than he remembers, and holy shit holy shit holy shit she looks good with this style, but she'd look good in anything.
She would especially look good in nothing).
The angle is odd for him, definitely, with the way he's bent to maintain the kiss, tongue teasing in and out of her mouth, swirling against her own tongue (and holy shit he's missed the taste of her), but it's worth it. He's really fucking missed this, missed being at her side. Sharing a bunk has spoiled him, he realizes, and he knows now that he cannot handle a month without waking up next to her, without waking up to her smile or her sleepy, murmurred "good mornings" (and how strange that is, when he it used to be that he would wake up to different faces nearly every day and never give a damn, but now, holy shit never again never ever ever).
His other hand is working at the zipper to her battlesuit, and maybe he's getting greedy now, but it has been a very. Long. Month. ]
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God, she missed him. She missed being close to him, sharing a bed and music and... just life in general.
But she's not exactly in the frame of mind to contemplate spending the rest of her life with Peter Quill- right now she's focused on his mouth, on the way his tongue teases around hers, and the hand bringing the zipper of her combat suit down. She's more than happy to let him. He might be surprised to find she's wearing something black and lacy and composed of very little fabric underneath her clothes.
Yeah. Yeah, she was totally planning this. ]
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God damn, his mind says helpfully. ]
God damn. [ He says aloud, because it seems appropriate. His voice is pitched low, but there's a sort of raw honesty in it. ] I just want you to know? You're fuckin' gorgeous.
[ He just wanted to get that out there before he busied himself with pressing a kiss to her throat, then another lower down, where lower, where he pauses to swirl his tongue in the dip between her collar bones. He trails lower and lower down, alternating between kissing and laving and biting at her pale skin, until he's kneeling on the floor in front of her, hands gripping the fabric at her hips, one thumb hooking into the waistband of her underwear. His teeth scrape against her lower stomach -- not enough to leave marks, not yet, and he glances up at her for permission, tugging at the suit and at the waistband of her pants. ]
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She leans back a little, bracing herself with her hands, head falling back with a sound somewhere between a sigh and a moan as he works his way lower and lower still with his mouth. She knows where this is going, and she can't help the little wave of anticipation that rolls over her. She glances down at him, eyes half-lidded. ]
Please do. [ God, she sounds breathless already. ]
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There isn't much ceremony to the way he discards her clothing -- he just adds it to the growing pile along with his jacket. One of his hands traces the tattoos on her side, grazing along the swirls and twists of the blue lines trailing her leg. For a moment he drinks in the sight of her, appreciating how she looks flushed and wanting and beautiful.
With a lick of his lips, he moves to kiss the inside of her thigh, trailing upwards and moving closer and closer to her pussy. He takes his time, teeth scraping against the skin of one leg before turning his attentions to the other.
Yep, definitely taking his sweet time, moving close to her folds then backing away to lick and suck and kiss her hips, her thighs, anywhere he can comfortably reach. With the images she conjured running through his head, he wants to make sure this is good, that this lasts. ]
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Try as she might to control herself, she squirms. ] Peter...
[ It's caught between a moan and a whine. Fuck, she's really going to lose it soon. ]
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Peter what? [ It's low and throaty, and fuck he's going a little crazy himself at the sight of her, at the sound of her voice, but he wants to take care of her, show her just how long a month it's been for him.
Besides. Maya totally started it. Totally. ]
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Then their gazes lock and she suddenly decides, fuck it. It would be a stupid waste of time to try to one-up each other. Especially when she practically has I want you to go down on me right the fuck now written across her forehead in neon letters.
So instead she grinds out a desperate, pleading, ] Please...
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[ He moves back down, hands on her thighs to spread her further apart. For a moment he continues to tease along her legs, kissing and licking and biting, moving closer and closer to her pussy -- but rather than move away and continue on, as he did before, this time he runs his tongue along her folds from the bottom to the top, then slowly moves the tip of his tongue against her clit, drawing lazy circles there. It's after a few seconds of this that he shifts again, his tongue entering her, and he really sets to work.
Maybe he's not too great with words, maybe he doesn't have the expansive vocabulary that Maya does, but he's been able to talk his way out of or into more than one situation or other. What he lacks in eloquence he more than makes up for with his clever tongue -- and there's more than one use for that, as well. ]
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Oh.
Oh. ]
Oohhhhh God...
[ She moans, breathless, arching her back and clenching her hands into the crisp white comforter. She wasn't lying when she said she'd dreamt of this- but holy shit did it feel so much better than she could ever imagine. Every swipe of his tongue, every little movement and slow little circle turns her muscles to jelly and it's all she can do to stay upright. Her grip on the bedding tightens as she fights the urge to rock her hips, to grind against his questing tongue.
Her legs are quivering, pleasure pounding through her body in time with her rapidly beating heart.
Fuck, he's really good at this. ]
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