Peter was angry and tired and just too damn cold to fight anymore. Him and Drax had spent the better part of an hour arguing over whose fault it was that got them into this predicament in the first place and neither had been willing to back down to admit defeat. They both, however, could agree what a total failure their mission had been. For what that's worth, at least.
The Guardians followed a distress call into the middle of a snowstorm on a tundra planet. Gamora was hesitant about it, offering that it sounded fishy, which prompted Drax to question how a fish could make a sound, if at all. Groot expressed some worry as well, considering whatever tone he said "I am Groot" in. But Rocket and Drax were more than eager to check it out, and so, majority ruled three against two.
Maybe it was Peter's fault he was stuck in this god forsaken cave, wearing nothing but fatigues and with no one to talk to but Drax. He wasn't about to admit it, though. He guesses it's better than being stuck with Groot, seeing as how his conversational skills leave something to be desired. Then again, Groot could've made firewood and Peter wouldn't be freezing his ass off right now with a man who couldn't even begin to understand what that expression meant.
Peter was scrunched up in a ball with his knees pressed to his chest and arms wrapped securely around his legs, trying to coax some warmth into his body. Drax, however, was sat across from him, seeming to be unaffected by it all. Peter stared down at the little gadget that acted as a makeshift lantern to light up the cave and stewed in his hatred for Drax right now. Look at him. All smug and warm... The bastard...
"You appear to be affected by the weather," Drax points out after a long period of silence.
"No shit, Sherlock," Peter mumbles with a roll of his eyes, hugging his legs even more.
"I don't understand," Drax says puzzled, tilting his head slightly to one side. "Who is this Sherlock and why can't he make necessary bowel movements?"
"It's just an expression. Don't worry about it," Peter whines with a heavy sigh. He can feel his brain start to throb with an oncoming migraine.
"Perhaps you should've changed into more hospitable clothing for our mission," Drax offers.
"I was gonna but some genius ejected us prematurely onto the planet's surface," Peter retorts, shivering.
Then again, Drax had a point. Why Peter hadn't bothered changing into his gear when they reached the genesis of the distress beacon, was beyond him. This is not how the mission was supposed to go, though. Just a quick in and out and possibly a short scan of the area, but not this. Peter was supposed to have time, but no... Drax had to start pressing buttons and mistake his body language as the signal to eject them from his ship.
"Thank you," Drax says, smiling at Peter's use of the word genius.
"It wasn't a compliment..."
"Then you should refrain from using words of flattery."
"I was being sarcastic," Peter argues, but he knows Drax won't get it either way. "Just- leave me alone... Please."
Peter hunches over more, adjusting his position and staring at the ground to avoid any future conversational engagements between him and Drax. It's not that he hated Drax or his presence, he just disliked his ignorance to most things and his inability to grasp a simple concept like idioms and metaphors. Not to mention Peter's references to many 80's oriented media, but that was excusable.
Peter didn't like having to spell everything out just so Drax could understand his side of the conversation. Doesn't a library or a database have an extensive encyclopedia just on expressions? If they don't, they should. Then Peter could actually talk to Drax without getting frustrated every other sentence. It seems Rocket was the only one who was actually savvy when it came to stuff like that.
The light illuminating the cave was dim but it was enough for Peter's breath to be visible each time he exhaled. His body was becoming more prone to shaking now as the constant tremor settled in his bones. Peter hated that he had to suffer alone and he resented the fact that Drax was nearly impervious to the cold because of his size. Fuck... Peter could kill for a hot chocolate right about now, double the marshmallows.
This thought seemed to ease up his quaking slightly, but it did little to actually warm Peter up. Drax could see Peter shuddering from across the narrow passage they sat in silence and felt an overwhelming wave of obligation for his leader. He couldn't just let Peter succumb to hypothermia, no matter how much they bickered or disagreed on things.
Then it was decided. Drax knew that Peter was unconsciously asking for help and warmth, so Drax shifted his weight and scooted over towards Peter. The other man didn't seem to notice, nodding off mostly out of exhaustion. Drax had to hand it to Peter, he was rather cute when his face was relaxed and sleep overcame his overzealous attitude. He was almost bearable.
Peter went oblivious to Drax's plan until Drax went to wrap a strong arm around the width of Peter's shoulders. Peter rouses from his micro nap and jumps with surprise, pushing against Drax's chest out of reflex. He thinks he's being attacked, but the calm yet powerful hands wrapped securely around his wrists tells him otherwise. Peter blinks up at the hulking man.
"What the hell are you trying to do? Give me a heart attack?" Peter exclaims, struggling a little even after the fact. He's slightly disoriented from drowsiness.
"It wasn't my intention to trigger cardiac arrest within your supple human frame."
Supple? Who the hell says "supple" to a man? Peter wants to scoff, but doesn't.
"I was keen enough to notice your shaking and I figured I'd offer to share my body heat with you," Drax continues to explain, going to wrap his arm around Peter again only to be batted away.
"Yeah, I'd rather freeze to death than to be bear hugged by a shirtless dude," Peter remarks, shifting away from Drax marginally.
Peter doesn't mean to sound like an asshole, but he immediately comes off as rude and the look Drax gets in his eyes almost look hurt. The lack of light isn't very reliable, however. It's not like he's disgusted by the gesture, it's awfully endearing for someone like Drax, but it's really all a matter of pride when it comes down to it. And snuggling up with Drax isn't very tough or manly on his part.
"Now is not the time for stubbornness, Quill," Drax insisted, raising his voice an octave louder.
Drax snatched Peter up swiftly in his arms and pulled him into his lap, constricting the man so he couldn't get free. Peter kicked and struggled at first, still destined to prove that his particular physiology could withstand frigid temperatures. He ultimately gives up when his body starts to protest and settles into this new found warmth in Drax's arms. He faces away from the hulking humanoid with his back against Drax's chest.
"What would the others think if you let yourself die because of your damn pride?" Drax questions, whispering the words harshly into Peter's ear. Riddled with emotion. "Surely they would put a finger to their throat at you."
"So... What? They'd kill me for letting myself die?" Peter inquires skeptically, scrunching his eyebrows and on the verge of cracking up. "How does that work?"
"You know what I mean," Drax tries to play off, but blushing. He's glad Peter is facing away from him.
"I'm not so sure you know what you mean," Peter chuckled.
This earns Peter a little yank backwards, causing him to rub the small of his back against Drax's crotch. It's an accident, but the obvious bulge in Drax's pants is not in the slightest. Then again, perhaps, that's just how it is normally? Drax is a big guy and Peter wouldn't be surprised if he was that big without being aroused. Peter doesn't know why he entertains the thought longer than he should but now that it's crossed his mind, it only seems to grow from there.
It's Peter's turn to blush as he settles his butt fully onto Drax's lap, squirming just a tad to find a comfortable sitting position. Peter told himself it wasn't on purpose to elicit a reaction, but the truth was he was curious. Curious to see if Drax actually was turned on by their closeness or not. Peter's intention was to be as discreet as possible and failed tragically because Drax caught on. Drax may not be sharp when it comes to metaphors but he knew coyness when he saw it. Or, rather, felt it.
"To answer your question, no, I'm not aroused right now," Drax tells Peter nonchalantly. He unwraps his arms from around the man to place them on his hips instead, stilling Peter's movement. "But if you keep doing that I will be. Is that what you want?"
"I'm not sure..." Peter admits on a shaky breath, gauging the way Drax curls his fingers around his waist possessively.
Drax stares at the side of Peter's head for a moment, contemplating the other man's response with caution before coming to a final decision. Drax lets one of his hands travel down towards Peter's lap and gropes lightly, making Peter tense. Peter doesn't try to swat Drax's hand away and this prompts a curious squeeze to Peter's groin. A gasp escapes Peter without warning and Drax smiles at his ability to draw such a wondrous sound out of him.
"What are you doing?" Peter asks dimly, knowing exactly what Drax was intending to do because it was working.
Peter was becoming aroused but, more importantly, his body was gradually heating up from a mixture of arousal and embarrassment.
"Raising your body temperature," Drax murmurs, rubbing the heel of his big hand tenderly over Peter's growing bulge. "The endorphins help to regulate heat."
"So does physical activity," Peter offers warily, hinting at something more intimate.
"Yes," Drax agrees, catching onto Peter's meaning.
Peter slips a hand behind him and tests Drax's resolve by caressing his firm length trapped within his pants. Drax was already hard and felt bigger than he had before, making Peter swallow unconsciously. Funny how his night started with him and Drax arguing and now here Peter was, fondling the guy because his life depended on it.
Well... Not really... Peter just liked how dramatic it sounded in his mind. Peter knew he could've kept warm in Drax's arms just as well but then this just sort of happened. Now, Peter was just rolling with the punches, so to speak. Peter had to suppress a chuckle, knowing that was another idiom Drax wouldn't understand.
"Would it be satisfactory to undress you from the waist down?" Drax asks, humping Peter's hand whilst rubbing Peter through his pants.
Peter nods and makes an acknowledging noise that dares to sound like a moan. He raises his hips up and lets Drax pull down his pants and underwear in one swift motion without undoing the necessary buttons and zippers. It wasn't rushed but Peter could tell Drax was a little eager to get things moving along. For Peter's sake, of course.
"Turn to face me," Drax requests politely.
Once Peter can untangle his pants from around his ankles and push them aside, he maneuvers himself around so that his cock is flush against Drax's abdomen. Fuck, it was freezing to be half-naked. He scoots back slightly and starts to open the front of Drax's pants, releasing the solid flesh trapped within it's confines. Idly, they both rub their cocks together for a brief moment, reveling in the hot friction.
Drax shifts to reach into a pouch and turns up with a medium-sized canister of what appears to be, and Peter really has to squint to see, some sort of salve. Oh, praise the lord for Drax having something such as salve handy or else this could've been a real disaster otherwise. Drax unscrews the lid and dips three of his fingers into it, gathering up enough to slick them up.
"Raise up and spread your legs a little for me."
Peter complies to the instruction, letting the chilly air nip uncomfortably at his more intimate areas. Drax drops his hand down between Peter's thighs and rubs his lubricated fingers against Peter's entrance. This elicits a sharp gasp from Peter and it made Drax still his hand immediately, fearing he hurt Peter somehow.
"I'm fine. It's just really cold," Peter clarifies with a timid smile.
"I will make you very warm shortly, Quill," Drax vows.
And Peter believes it.
Drax circles a finger around the ring of muscle before slipping it in smoothly, pushing an involuntary sound out of Peter. Drax takes joy in this reaction and thrusts his finger in and out of Peter, adding another and then a third until Peter is humping his hand for more friction. His fingers are slightly larger than his own and Peter revels in the feel of having someone else touch him in this way.
He stretches Peter sufficiently after long, working his fingers diligently but with a deceivingly gentle touch for someone as rough-looking as Drax. Peter's mouth hangs open in a silent whimper that gets caught up somewhere in his throat and it stays agape until Drax withdraws his fingers from his body. Peter bites his lip and wants to whine, but refrains from acting like a petulant child for once.
He holds up the canister, offering it to Peter with mutual understanding of what Drax implied by the gesture. Peter goes to grab the container from Drax's hand and delves his fingers into the ointment and collects it in his palm. He spreads the salve generously along the length of Drax's impressive length and, although he couldn't see it properly, Peter knew it had to be quite a sight. Just the feel of it pulsing slickly in his hand was enough for Peter to keen.
Maybe he strokes Drax for longer than what is necessary, but Peter mostly does it out of precaution. Peter twists his hand, shifting his grip and the sensation along the rigid manhood. Drax makes a sound of approval, lightly thrusting his hips up into Peter's hand to show his eagerness. Peter stops stroking when Drax grabs his wrist and brushes it aside.
"Do you wish for us to mate now?" Drax inquires, getting a tad bit antsy but otherwise patient if need be.
"Go for it," Peter replies, wrapping his arms around Drax's shoulders.
Those big, strong hands of Drax's come to rest on his hips again and raise him up marginally to place Peter right above his cock. He's lowered down slowly until the tip of Drax's cock is pressing against Peter's slick hole, begging for entry inside. The sensation of being on the brink of invasion makes Peter's lower half tingle, making him throb incessantly.
Peter expected a lot of things from Drax when it came to battle, such as resourcefulness and brute strength, but he didn't have a clue what to expect during something as intimate as sex. Peter figured Drax would be the same person with nothing held back, but this wasn't the case. Drax in the battlefield was different from Drax in the sack. Christ... Drax in the sack? That sounds like some horrible Dr. Seuss erotica...
Drax nudged against Peter until the head of his cock slipped in without so much as a fuss. Drax held onto Peter tightly, but not painfully so, being sure to take his time to gradually lower Peter down on his cock. He kept Peter steady, allowing the man to adjust smoothly with as little pain as possible. It still hurt like hell having someone as big as Drax inside him but it helped that he was gentle. Peter would be lying if he said that wasn't awfully considerate.
When Peter was fully settled onto Drax's lap he let out a low and shaky moan, feeling that familiar wave of heat radiate throughout his body. It made goosebumps breakout all over his arms as his body raced to regulate his temperature. It sent a pleasurable little tingle down his back and caused Peter to unconsciously clench his muscles around Drax's cock. The cold wind that gusted down the expanse of the cave slowly subsided as Peter's body responded to the sexual stimulate.
Feeling Drax's cock pulse inside him was something Peter could get used to. Peter experimentally lifted himself up on his knees, feeling Drax's cock shift within him before going back down. Drax let Peter do this for as long as he needed, murmuring words of praise and encouragement when his slow and careful hips became bold and determined.
Peter kept a steady pace of gyrating his pelvis up and down Drax's length efficiently, not going too fast but not particularly slow either. Peter clung to Drax's strong chest as he rode the hulking man in an undulating rhythm. His body was on fire and Drax's big cock nudged perfectly into his tight channel, sending shock waves all through his formerly trembling frame. He lets out all of his pent up moans, writhing with little shame as he let himself get lost in the numbing sensation of ecstasy. What made it even better was when Drax curled his arms across Peter's back to press them closer together.
"You make beautiful sounds, but not unlike a man," Drax admires, stroking Peter's back tenderly as the other gasps at the inclination. "I prefer it that way."
The fact that Drax didn't come right out and say he made noises like a female in heat was refreshing and it turned him on even more when Drax admitted to liking a more masculine tenor than a feminine one. Peter rubs himself against Drax's abdomen every chance he gets while he rides the other's cock in languid arches of his back. The friction is dry and somewhat scratchy from the material of Peter's shirt but the heat and solid muscle of their bodies writhing against one another feels fantastic in the grand scheme of things.
Peter falls forward slightly and rests his perspiring forehead to Drax's, moaning incoherent syllables into the short space between their lips. If one of them were to lean forward just another inch or two, they'd be kissing. Peter is the one to ultimately close the distance, and why not? Kissing Drax in the heat of the moment seemed like a good idea at the time and it only reinforced Peter's whim when Drax kissed back.
They nipped and sucked at each other's lips fervently as Peter rode a little more concisely on Drax's cock. They were both breathlessly gasping as their body temperature shot off the charts and converged into one solid mass of heat radiating between them. Peter knew that if he was bare chested right now that they'd definitely be sticking together by sweat alone.
Drax ground his hips up into Peter, making him whimper belatedly, and started to thrust regularly in contrast to Peter's humps downward. Their movements were synchronized but frantic, turning a gentle glide-like rhythm into smooth yet jagged cadence that counted down the thrusts until their impending orgasms hit them with full force.
Peter's cock throbs incessantly when the momentum of riding Drax and rubbing up against him reaches a breaking point. His tip is wet, spreading sticky trails all over Drax's hard muscles until, with a final shuddering breath, he comes hard against them unabashed. Drax's name is on the tip of his tongue but it doesn't make it past the first two letters as he finds his release.
He continues to ride Drax through the haze of aftershocks from his orgasm, claiming Drax's lips in a sloppy manner that lacks finesse. Drax reciprocates it but goes to grab Peter's hips so he can lay down a barrage of quickened thrusts that bring him to and beyond the threshold of climax. Peter gasps sharply, feeling a numbing sensation of sensitivity, and holds onto Drax tightly until the end.
When Drax does come he stays inside of Peter, telling him that he belonged to him now. That was fine with Peter, especially when it was whispered hotly into his ear as Drax emptied himself into his tight and clenching hole. Hearing those words made Peter's body squirm with delight, as well as terrify him, at what they might imply for the future.
Their pulses are slowing down now and the creeping sensation of the chill in the air is slowly bringing them back down from their orgasmic high. They pant hopelessly, sucking in each other's labored breaths and trying to make this moment last just for a little bit longer. Neither of them move, however, whether it's out of exhaustion or tenderness, Peter isn't sure, but they hold onto each other in a cold sweat because their lives depend on it. Because they want to.
And they stay like that until help finally arrives.