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it's sick, the pleasure he receives from the hand currently grasping at his throat, forcing him to gasp breathlessly in a poor attempt to reign in a breath; it's a struggle, but somehow he manages, can feel the slightest inch of leeway the woman offers in pity.
those eyes, dark and mysterious, gaze into his own with a sense of stoicism that was uncommon during intimacy. it was rare the woman let her true emotions show, he figured that she was still hesitant about relationships yet never pried for he knew the pain of bringing up sensitive topics.
smooth hips, emerald and scarred, move along with peter's in near-perfect tandem with the desperate bucking of his hips, chasing his impending orgasm, feeling it build-up within the pit of belly and radiating throughout his limbs in scorching intervals.
"y-you try'na ki-kill me or-or somethin'?" he barely manages to wheeze out, face darkening into a deep crimson, adam's apple bobbling as he struggles to gulp.
for a moment, she's silent, doesn't breathe at all it seems except she does. it's almost inaudible, the measured sighs she makes, but somehow peter manages to hear her catch her breath when he abruptly grunts, snapping his hips roughly upwards, burying himself deep within her pulsing heat.
"perhaps so, peter quill."
amusement lurks within the words, the subtlest of smirks gracing the corners of her lips, not that she would admit it if peter called her out on it. because gamora was supposed to be a stoic assassin, not a smugly smirking woman reveling in something so insignificant and gratuitous such as relationships. no emotion was to be expected, something that gradually became more and more difficult when in he presence of the terran.
silence engulfs the room once more, minus the silent hum from the dashboard a few feet away, the two splayed across the floor of the cock pit. ethereal light pours in from the broad expanse of the window, bathing the two in its soft glow, a variety of colors casting beautiful shades upon the green-skinned woman—no, muses peter, goddess. she's more like a goddess.
calloused hands find their way around peter's thick wrists, pinning them easily above his head, hips rolling in abandon now as she drifts closer towards the tempting bliss of release. and peter, currently defenseless, can only struggle to keep up with her as she rises up and surges onto his cock rapidly, his eyes narrowed as he stares at where the two meet intimately.
there's something about the way his cock repeatedly disappears inside of gamora that has him going rigid, the sight alone enough to spur his orgasm, the man releasing with a series of grunts and pathetic mewls as he spends himself.
gamora, who always seems to revel in the breathy exhales, manages a weak snort as she continues to sink onto his cock, spreading her thighs further apart in an attempt to send him deeper and—and she does, and she swears she sees the galaxy behind her lids; an exact copy of the galaxy outside of the windows, vibrant colors and twinkling stars filled with such promise.
peter is a panting mess beneath her, struggling to free himself from within her grip, releasing a thankful sigh and nod when she releases him. the man wrings his wrists, hissing at the sight of angry crimson crescents imprinted on his skin.
"could ya', oh i dunno, not use those claws of yours next time?" breathes the man, offering her a pained frown.
dark eyes, full of mirth, roll in response as she reluctantly withdraws from peter's form to instead glance around for her forgotten clothing. "i do believe you once mentioned that you took the 'pleasure with the pain,' or perhaps that is another terran metaphor with no legitimate reasoning behind it?"
"i—actually, yeah. you win. i can't argue with that, not that i'd want to, not after you blew my mind just then."
the assassin snatches up the snug-fitting gray shirt that belongs to the latter and tosses it harshly toward his face, lips twitching into a smug smirk. "logic i cannot combat."