Steadfast Star

I saw Guardians and the Galaxy and felt like writing a quick one-shot. What a great movie!~~

Drax the Destroyer, mighty warrior and defender of the galaxy, was not pleased by any measure. He was being thwarted!

"You are a most unscrupulous, devious woman. I'm a victim of your wretched duplicity," he hissed into the unscrupulous, devious, duplicitous being's quarters aboard the Milano. There were assorted amusements from their galactic travels gathered within, jelly blobs that bounced and moved across the gold-shielded walls, a shimmery collection of wigs (for "cool disguises and role play"), and automatic floor cleaner spheres that squeaked across the floor and dribbled anemic solution across the slightly dirty surface. An affront! He had offered to help her tidy up the space.

Gamora appeared in the main room, arms crossed, eyes slanted. She kicked at one of the balls and it landed with a squeal at an unsuspecting jelly blob. "That sounds like a compliment, I do think. Oh what an interesting person I must be." She smiled evilly at him. "Ah, but scruples. I do miss having them." The green woman sighed, put on a morose look, but he was used to her ways, and this expression was more duplicity, definitively so.

How well he knew her.

"Incorrect," Drax the Destroyer snarled. "You are happy to be this way. And you are pleased to torture me such."

"Torture?" she asked, unfolding her arms, looking startled. "Understanding metaphors all of a sudden, Destroyer?"

He eyed her pretty leather dress, lacy tights, the boots he wanted to take off of her. He imagined himself carefully unlacing them, placing her delicate feet back in her shoes when needed.

"No," he admitted, "but I am being tortured none the less."

Gamora didn't respond. Her mien was still removed and haughty. And beautiful, in an almost painful fashion.

"You have avoided me," Drax accused her with dignity, hands wrapped in fists by his thighs, upset with her silence. "You claimed to have been 'preoccupied.' You have canceled our three last dinners." He flung his chest out, holding his neck up high. "And I cooked for you."

Was there a flicker of emotion in the deviant's face? "What did you cook for me?"

"A rare soup," he replied.

"Soup?"

Drax nodded. "With American ingredients from the Star-Lord's home world. I dyed the noodles red, white, and blue, per his instructions. It has much cheese."

"It might be tasty," Gamora allowed, but then she swallowed visibly, looking nervous. "It's just that I've been thinking," she began.

Frustration, as well as hurt, welled up inside him. "Cease your thinking. If you have a question, ask me, and I will answer it."

He saw the fire glow in her eyes. Reaching to get out the short blade strapped to her leg, Gamora strode a few paces until she held the weapon at his throat. "And if I don't want to?" she hissed angrily, her dress rising up a few glorious inches, the metal cool against his neck.

Drax murmured something deep in the throat, feeling a relaxed sensation spread across his shoulders, and so gave her a small, content smile. "Is this a challenge?"

"What? No!" Gamora spat, but went along with the combat when he made a move as if to grab her, kicking at his hamstrings until his left leg almost buckled. Obligingly he fell down to the floor, but with her underneath him in tow. How he loved her long, long legs, he thought, gripping at her knee.

She turned her head to the side, and frowned. "This floor isn't that clean now that I look at it."

"I know," Drax said patiently.

And then he saw an emotion he had seen many times from her. Desire. Gamora swallowed again, shifted underneath him. She raised an unsteady hand, holding it flat against his heart.

He saw the question in her eyes. "I love this part," he told her earnestly, starting to unzip his pants.

"I do too," Gamora admitted. "But wait a minute."

"What is it you want to tell me, beautiful one?" He placed his hand to her cheek instead.

Another flash of nervousness. "Is this casual? Or do you want it to mean more?"

He kissed her, grinning, did it again, with his tongue this time. She breathed heavily against him. "This means everything to me. And we are best friends," he said, circling his fingers with hers, "like Rocket and the big tree.

Satisfied at her smile, Drax laid his forehead on top of her own. "You are,' he hesitated, then said, "you are a bright star."

Gamora gave him a shocked look. "You're making metaphors?"

"No. It's poetry. I memorized it," he corrected her, shaking his head. 'But no, you, you are not a star. Galaxies are expansive and more beautiful. You are that. A galaxy. But I prefer you as a female creature," he added when he heard her breath release quickly. "As a woman, so we can be joined together when we make love."

"We don't need poetry. What I feel, you feel in return," Gamora contemplated, studying his face.

He grumbled, deep in the throat. Drax the Destroyer was most pleased. His woman was soft and pliable against him, needing him inside her. He would also feed her dinner soon.

The warrior hugged her tight against him.

"Yes, green one. We are in love."