[ 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.
[ Don't let him know that, Maya. It'll go straight to his head.
As it is, he can't help but be pleased by the way she's reacting. He's been wanting to do this for weeks, wanting to taste her, warm and wet and seriously delicious.
He pulls away for just a second to lick his fingers, then slowly slides them into her pussy, hooking upward to find the rough patch of skin there. He shifts a little, his tongue flattening to press against her clit once, hard, then falling into a rhythm. Up and down, slowly at first, then picking up speed and matching the rhythm with his fingers. ]
[ She does buck her hips once he slides his fingers into her entrance, completely involuntarily. (Honestly, she's not sure if she has the faculties to do anything that wasn't out of instinct or pure want right now.) And she swears once, abruptly, when he begins to start up a rhythm. Her arms nearly give out on her and she falls back to brace herself on her elbows, hands still clenched in the comforter. Her head as fallen back, hair spilling over her shoulders in blue cascades.
Fuck, she thinks. Fuck fuck fuck.
She doesn't want this to stop, the sheer heat rolling through her with his every motion, but she knows she won't last much longer. She's been aching for him for a month- which is a month too fucking long- and now she's about to boil over.
When she comes, it's probably the most intense fucking thing she's ever felt and for a moment, she forgets entirely how to function. She clenches hard, suddenly, around his fingers, her tattoos flare bright cyan, and she manages not to scream, but just barely. What comes out of her mouth is something like a high-pitched moan, that tapers off into a shuddering sigh. ]
Fuck... [ definitely breathless now. She gasps, attempting to get her bearings again. She's gonna need a moment after that one. ]
[ He really fucking loves the light show whenever Maya comes. To Peter, it's like a little fireworks display of victory, and he grins every time.
Sometimes, though, he does sort of worry about her losing control and phaselocking him on accident, but hey, shit happens, and it'd make for an awesome story, anyway. "Remember that time you came so hard you literally put me into an extradimensional bubble? Fun, right?"
He pulls his fingers out slowly and gives her entrance one final lick from bottom to top, savoring the taste of her; he moves up onto the bed, then, licking his lips before kissing her gently.
When he pulls back, he has a sort of cocky grin on. ]
Yeah. [ He follows her up, lying beside her on his side, propping his head up with his hand. ] Next time you hear about some Siren shit and have to take off in a hurry, I'm chasin' after you.
Good. [ she leans over to kiss him again, slowly, though not without a little heat. She still wants him, wants to keep making up for the month they missed, but this whole experience has taught her just how much she needs him, too. ]
I don't ever want to be without you.
[ probably as close as she'll ever get to saying "let's spend the rest of our lives together" ]
[ She gets a soft smile for that, small and genuine -- and for once, he gets it, because he feels the same way. He wraps his free arm around her waist. ]
If it’s any consolation, I’m pretty sure you’re gonna have a whole lot of trouble gettin’ rid of me.
[ He feigns a look of concerned surprise. ] Really, Maya? You get new digs, and all of a sudden you’re implementing a dress code? You’re lettin’ how fancy this place is go to your pretty little head.
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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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As it is, he can't help but be pleased by the way she's reacting. He's been wanting to do this for weeks, wanting to taste her, warm and wet and seriously delicious.
He pulls away for just a second to lick his fingers, then slowly slides them into her pussy, hooking upward to find the rough patch of skin there. He shifts a little, his tongue flattening to press against her clit once, hard, then falling into a rhythm. Up and down, slowly at first, then picking up speed and matching the rhythm with his fingers. ]
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Fuck, she thinks. Fuck fuck fuck.
She doesn't want this to stop, the sheer heat rolling through her with his every motion, but she knows she won't last much longer. She's been aching for him for a month- which is a month too fucking long- and now she's about to boil over.
When she comes, it's probably the most intense fucking thing she's ever felt and for a moment, she forgets entirely how to function. She clenches hard, suddenly, around his fingers, her tattoos flare bright cyan, and she manages not to scream, but just barely. What comes out of her mouth is something like a high-pitched moan, that tapers off into a shuddering sigh. ]
Fuck... [ definitely breathless now. She gasps, attempting to get her bearings again. She's gonna need a moment after that one. ]
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Sometimes, though, he does sort of worry about her losing control and phaselocking him on accident, but hey, shit happens, and it'd make for an awesome story, anyway. "Remember that time you came so hard you literally put me into an extradimensional bubble? Fun, right?"
He pulls his fingers out slowly and gives her entrance one final lick from bottom to top, savoring the taste of her; he moves up onto the bed, then, licking his lips before kissing her gently.
When he pulls back, he has a sort of cocky grin on. ]
Need a sec?
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And you know what? She's going to let him be cocky. He earned it. ]
Yeah. Yeah I do.
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That was the longest fucking month ever.
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I don't ever want to be without you.
[ probably as close as she'll ever get to saying "let's spend the rest of our lives together" ]
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If it’s any consolation, I’m pretty sure you’re gonna have a whole lot of trouble gettin’ rid of me.
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[ she smirks, one eyebrow arching ] Pretty sure you're wearing way too many clothes to be on this bed, though.
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[ Aaand he's moving at a glacial pace, just out of spite. ]
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Are you doing that on purpose? Because I could always start talking again.
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You say that like it's a bad thing.
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