Nebula does not, cannot, remember a time when she was simply flesh. She must have been so soft, like something unbaked.
Gamora is flesh, but corded, sleek, hard.
Nebula spreads three fingers inside Gamora, teeth in Gamora's clit. Gamora has her pinned, grinds against her face, breaks knuckles.
Still Nebula seeks the only thing that, she now knows, can break Gamora. Convulsing pleasure, endless, wracking.
Her sister's sole weakness has nothing to do with pain. That Nebula enjoys giving her this, what does that make her? A sensualist, slack, decadent?
Pleasure leaves Gamora momentarily soft. Damp and bright-eyed.