DISCLAIMER: I do not own any of the characters from Guardians of the Galaxy, either in its movie or comic incarnation. I own any OC I can invent, though. I am not making a £ out of this. It is just for shits and giggles.

Warnings: this chapter contains some angst, some mild violence and, finally, some sex (M/F).

For those of you who were expecting a "sandwich", sorry, you'll have to wait a bit more, but it's quite hard to write a threesome without leaving any of the characters hanging - but I am writing it, promise.
And if it is any consolation, there will be more M-rated stuff in the next chapter next week.

Enjoy, and please don't shout at me!

They kick Yo-laus out of their bed around four. There are at least two more hours before sundown, but they want to clean up and erase all the evidence well before the others arrive. They needed the relief, but that doesn't mean they don't feel guilty about it.
Yo-laus takes it remarkably well, at least.

"It was good fun, - he says - but you're going to be gone soon anyway, so..." he shrugs as he picks his tunic up from the floor.
"Do you mind if I use your shower?" he asks in the end.
"'Course not, buddy. - Peter replies - It is the first door on the right." he directs.
Gamora doesn't have the stomach to do idle conversation with the man, and decides to curl up on the bed. It smells slightly like the Spartoi. They will have to change the bedsheets, and she is going to wash them herself. It would be just plain wrong to make Ronan wash them.

"Hey fellows, why is there a knife on the floor in the corridor?" Yo-laus asks, sticking his head back in.
"A what!?" Peter asks.
Gamora is overtaken by a bad feeling and jumps out of bed, naked as she is.

There is indeed a knife on the floor, and it comes from their kitchen.
A combat dagger would have meant Drax, a penknife Rocket, but this...
She steps into the kitchen. There is a bag of supplies abandoned on the floor.
"Oh, no!" she wails, burying her hands in her hair.
"Hey, Gamora, what...?!" Peter asks, then he sees it too, and curses.
"He was here... - he exhales, leaning on a cupboard for support - Do you think he has...?" he starts.
Gamora wishes it wasn't the case, but she suspects it is. She nods.
Ronan must have seen them, and by the looks of it, he has not taken it well. Guilt, despair and hope mix in her heart: Ronan must feel something for them for him to be upset at seeing them in bed with someone else. There can be no heartbreak, if there is no love.

Peter curses again, hitting the cupboard with his fist.
"What do we do now? - he asks, sounding lost and desolate - Gods, it's all my fault!" he whispers.
Yo-laus sticks his head in from the door.
"Is it alright, fellows? What has happened?" he asks with what looks like sincere concern.
Oh, nothing, she thinks sarcastically, we have just messed up and big time with the person we love. And all because we couldn't talk. Again.

"Listen, Yo-laus, it would be better if you just left now. - she says instead - And I mean now. We have a bit of a problem to solve." she adds.
The Spartoi gives her a doubtful look, but acquiesces.
"I'm sorry, I didn't mean to..." he apologises.
"Don't, it's not your fault. - she says, stopping him into his tracks - You are a nice man. I regret having to kick you out like this..." she adds.
"Ah, don't worry. - he minimises - I'll have my stride of pride. It's not a problem. It was nice to know you. And you too, Peter Quill." he adds, turning towards Peter, who is hastily getting dressed.

"What are you doing?" Gamora asks Peter as soon as Yo-laus gets out of the ship.
"I'm going to look for him and bring him back." he replies, fumbling with his boots.
"No, you are not." she retorts. His eyes go very wide in perplexity, but she decides to ignore it.
"I know how to deal with him when his is angry, you don't. Your heart is big and in the right place, but you are rash. You might blurt out the wrong thing.- she continues - I will go. You will stay here in case he comes back on his own." she instructs.
Peter seems on the verge of protesting, but he immediately closes his mouth and lowers his head.
"You are right. - he says - I am so upset about this... I don't know how to feel. I want to fix this so badly that I... I might mess it up worse." he admits, and she thinks she sees tears in his eyes.
"I'll bring him back, I promise." she reassures him, hugging him close.
She hopes she can. She really does. It would be cruel to lose him now.

Five minutes later, she is dressed and armed, and walking down the streets with purpose and determination.
While she was getting ready, Peter has called the rest of the team on their comms, but no one has seen Ronan. The stubborn Kree himself is not picking his comm up, obviously. She will have to canvass the streets from first principles. Good thing she is a trained hunter.

Gamora's search strategy is simple. In a similar situation, the responses of a scorned lover fall into a limited set of categories. They can go on a homicidal rampage against the unfaithful loved ones, which luckily wasn't the case, they can remain on location and start shouting and making a scene, a scenario which was also not verified, or they can run away in search of a means to cope with the rejection.

Ronan's response falls clearly in this last case.
He could be in a pub, going through a bender, or in a brothel, repaying infidelity with infidelity, but neither option seems likely. Ronan doesn't drink, he doesn't even like the taste of alcohol, and, most likely, he is too shy and insecure to approach a sex worker.
This leaves one main option, and it is the one that is most in agreement with what she knows of his reactions to distress. He has gone to look for a fight, to find respite from his pain in the immediacy of battle.

Now that it is getting late in the afternoon and the market is shutting down for the evening, the streets are getting empty, but when Ronan was fleeing, at least a couple of hours before, it was still in full swing, and the streets in the center of the city were packed.
She doubts that he would have wanted to be in the middle of the jostling and clamoring, so she takes a street leading towards the periphery.
He would not have had the clarity of mind to pick an elaborate path, so she continues straight on the main street, until she gets to a run-down, slightly unsavory neighborhood. This is the right place to look for a fight.
She keeps an eye on the cantinas and bars, looking for signs of recent disturbances, and keeps an ear out for conversations.
She doesn't have translator implants like Peter, but she knows a bit of Spartoi, and when she overhears two men talking about a "mean blue bastard" who was destroying the opposition in a fighting contest, she immediately accosts them and asks for directions, feigning an interest in betting.

The two men direct her towards a big, loud establishment. A quite drunk crowd of fighting aficionados is milling around the place, drinks in hand, and is packed almost solid around the central pit.
Gamora slides through the crowd and with a mixture of charm and sharp elbows, manages to conquer herself a place in the front row.

Down in the pit, Ronan is fighting against a huge, green-skinned, warrior-caste Skrull. He is shirtless, bathed in sweat, and his skin is mottled with bruises. He must have been at it for a while.
The Skrull lands a hit, kicking the breath out of Ronan, and the crowd explodes in a shout of approval, but the Kree is not finished yet, and when his opponent dives in for the KO, he manages to grab the leading hand of the Skrull, and in short order, break his elbow, and then a few ribs and finally his beaky nose.
The Skrull falls in a heap on the sand-covered floor and Ronan slowly climbs the rickety ladder out of the pit and to the main floor. He is favoring one side, and his hands are bloody from the blows.

Gamora slides away and cuts through the crowd as best as she can.
She intercepts him as he is sitting down at a table in the corner with a big glass of something pinkish and fruity which doesn't look alcoholic at all.
He looks not just tired, but hollowed out, as he was on the Dark Aster, and it pains her to see him like that once more.

"Ronan..." she calls as she approaches his table.
He looks up and his eyes widen a bit when he realises it is her, but then his gaze drops again into the depths of his drink.
Gamora sits down in front of him and tries unsuccessfully to meet his gaze.
"Ronan I am sorry... It shouldn't have happened... You shouldn't have seen something like that..." she starts.
"Don't apologise. - he interrupts her - I have no right to question your behaviour. The ship is yours. You and Star-Lord have every right of bringing home whatever lovers you might fancy." he adds.
His tone is once more flat, distant and hollow. He is trying to make it sound like it hasn't affected him at all, but she knows him too well to fall for that.
He is hurting badly and deeply.

"Please, come home... - she pleads, trying to lay a hand over his on the table - I... we can explain." she adds softly, but he withdraws his hands, hiding them under the table.
"I don't want explanations. It is already awkward and painful enough as it is. - he replies, a bit desperate - I understand. It was not about me, it was about having a third. I made you wait too long, and I lost my chance. I... I have no right to blame you." he says, refusing to look her way.
"And yet you hurt." Gamora says, pressing her hands together on the table to prevent herself from reaching out for him, even though she wants to hold him close until everything is better.
It is not the time yet. This time they will talk it through and fix it, because she knows... Now she knows that they all want the same thing, that they just need to have the courage to reach out to make things alright.

"Why?" she insists.
Now Ronan looks up, a flash of anger in his eyes.
"Why?! - he exclaims - Why, you ask! This is... this is the bloody tragic irony of fate." he curses.
"Tell me. - Gamora orders - I am serious, Ronan. You will tell me why, and this is an order." she adds firmly.
The Kree looks at her with something that looks a bit like awe.
"I think I know the reason, but I am fed up with guessing and second-guessing. We have been at it for too long, you, me and Peter. - she explains - We have been circling around this for a year or more, and look where it has lead us! I want you to tell me the reason of your pain. Why do you hurt for seeing me and Peter with another?" she asks again.

There is a long, long moment of silence. Ronan's gaze locks with her own, searching, looking for a sign, before it drops back to the table.
"Because I love you... - he says quietly, his voice barely audible over the din of the crowd - I have loved you two for... oh, it feels like forever. And I want you." he reveals.
Gamora strives to keep calm, even though her heart is bouncing with joy in her chest. She thinks that there will be more revelations.
"I had just realised that I needed to tell you, and I was going to. - Ronan continues, his voice rough with impending tears - I went back early to wait for you and tell you, because I didn't want to make you wait any longer... and, Pama have mercy on me, I still want you. I want you even more now, even though I know I can't have you." he confesses, burying his face in his hands.

Gamora uses his moment of distraction to shift from her chair to the bench where he is sitting.
Obviously, he feels the shift in weight and reacts, taking his hands off his face. This is what she was waiting for, and she pounces him, pressing her lips against his gently but firmly.
Ronan offers a token resistance, probably more out of surprise than anything else, then melts into the kiss, responding clumsily but enthusiastically.
He tastes like the fruit juice he was drinking, and blood, and the salt of sweat and tears, and his skin is soft and smooth, like silk wrapped over the hardness of his warrior's body. She could kiss him for hours and he doesn't seem like he wants to stop either.
Gamora slowly shifts on the bench without breaking the kiss. She climbs in his lap until she is straddling him. He is hard down there too, and she can't help but grind herself against him ever so slightly.
Ronan moans into the kiss, then breaks it for air.

"I love you... - he says quietly, cupping her face into his hands - And I need you... but I won't be used. I don't want this if it is just about... well, sex..." he adds, and how cute it is that he cannot even say the word without blushing? It only makes Gamora want to shag him even more.
"I know I have no right to make demands of you, but I don't want to be just another man you two have a liaison with. - he continues - It means more than that to me. You mean so much more..."
"It means more than that for us too... - Gamora replies, giving him another peck on the lips - I love you, Ronan, and I know that Peter does too. We have for a long time..." she reveals.
"Then why...?!" he asks, surprised and slightly angry again.
He doesn't need to finish the sentence for Gamora to know what he means.

"To stall for time." she says, feeling guilty and immature, and, dammit, if they had just waited a day more, they would have spared everyone so much heartbreak.
"We have wanted you for so long... But we wanted to wait for you to be ready. We wanted you to want us too. - she reveals - But after K'soth, we... we were going crazy with need..."
"Why didn't you tell me? - Ronan asks - Why didn't you say anything?"
Gamora kisses him again and lays her forehead against his.
"Because you are our haaq, and we have found out how things can go... And we didn't want it to be like that. - she says, feeling suddenly shy - We didn't want you to feel like it was your duty. We wanted you to choose freely. To be honest, we didn't quite know how to approach the issue. We rather hoped that you would solve it for us." she confesses.
"And I hoped that you would solve it for me..." Ronan chimes in, sighing and shaking his head ever so slightly.
"We ended up using that poor Spartoi as emergency sex relief, and hurting you, all because we couldn't talk... - Gamora comments wryly - I am so sorry... Both of us are..." she whispers.
"Shhh... don't. - Ronan whispers, holding her close and tentatively petting her hair - I am equally guilty of causing this situation. I should have trusted you and told you months ago." he says.
"Do you forgive us then?" Gamora asks, leaning back so that she can lock gazes with him. They stay like that for a long moment, silently looking into each other's eyes, then Ronan smiles.
"Yes, I do. I love you too much to waste more time with heartbreak. I am yours, for as long as you might want me." he declares and kisses her, soft and tentative.
"And I am yours too." Gamora responds, and suddenly they are back to kissing passionately, devouring each other's lips, and her hands slide all over his exposed skin and he shivers and, gods, she cannot get enough of him, and his hands are on her too, finally, touching, holding, exploring... She grinds herself on him again, tasting the sound of his whimpers, and suddenly someone clears his throat quite loudly next to them.

They both startle and turn, ready to attack or defend themselves. It is only the manager though.
"Listen up, people, I'm not a prude, but you'd better get a room somewhere, for everyone's sake. - he declares with a wicked grin - I guess you're no longer interested in another match, are you, fellow?" he adds, addressing Ronan.
"I... I respectfully decline." the Kree says, his cheeks indigo with embarrassment.
The manager chuckles. "The girlfriend came to pick you up?" he asks, winking.
Ronan hesitates and looks at her as if asking for permission. Gamora smiles and winks.
"It would seem so." Ronan declares with a shy smile, and if the manager hadn't been looking at them like a creep, Gamora would have started snogging the breath out of him all over again.

The manager chuckles and places a wad of credits on the table.
"That's yours, for your victories. - he tells Ronan, continuing to ignore her - It's a bit less than it should be, 'cause after a while they stopped betting against you, but still enough to buy your girl some trinket. Have fun, lover boy!" he salutes, and walks away with a laugh.
Gamora considers going after him and boxing him in the face for treating her like decoration, but ultimately decides it is not worth the effort.
"We should get going." she says instead, sliding off Ronan's lap.
He sighs and stands too, picking up his top and the money.
"Right, the others will be worried." he comments.

The streets are packed again, when they leave. Eateries and bars are filling up with the early night crowd. It looks like the Spartoi love to party.
"This is not the way back to the Milano!" Ronan protests after a short while.
"No, it is not. - she confirms, scanning the street for what she has in mind - By now, Rocket, Drax and Groot will already be back to the ship." she adds, almost as a non-sequitur.
"Ah, there we go!" she exclaims soon after, having found what looks like the perfect place.
"A guest house?!" Ronan says, sounding surprised.
Gamora nods. "What you need now is a shower, some patching up and some privacy..." she replies, whispering the last bit in his ear.
"You don't want Rocket or Groot to overhear, do you?" she continues, and he actually shivers a bit at the implications of her words.
"And what about Peter?" he asks as a token protest.
"We'll phone him and tell him to meet us here." she replies, and she can see his resistance crumble.

They pay for a double room with the cash from Ronan's fights.
If the concierge finds something amiss, she doesn't say anything impolite, at least, and shows them an airy, clean room at the second floor, with a decent-sized bathroom fitted with a shower, and a big, soft-looking, crisply made bed. Gamora and Ronan look at it and then at each other. They know it won't last long in that pristine state.

As soon as the woman leaves, closing the door behind her, Gamora kisses Ronan once more, hard and passionate.
"Shouldn't we call Peter...?" he asks breathlessly, taking a small break. His hands have found their way under her top, warm and strong and yet so gentle...
"Should we? - she asks, nibbling at his jaw - But he has had you all for himself for the whole night on K'soth..." she protests, but ultimately acquiesces.
They phone him, telling him the good news. He is totally over the moon with them, but apparently someone had been trying to kidnap Groot or at least that's what Rocket says, so Rocket is at the police station for excess of self defense, and Peter will have to bail him out. He says he'll be there as soon as he can, but it might be a few hours.

"I suppose we'll have to make do, in the meantime..." Gamora proposes, leaning into Ronan.
"I suppose you have a contingency plan ready..." he comments with interest.
Gamora smiles and takes off her top in one fluid motion, standing bare from the waist up.
The awed expression on the Kree's face is simply priceless.
"I do, but you can, and should, actually, say no if you are not comfortable with anything, alright?" she instructs.
Ronan blinks, trying to parse the information in the face of such an obvious distraction, and finally nods.
"What's the plan?" he asks in a whisper, running his hands along her sides and back, following the lines of her implants.
"We get our clothes off and have a nice shower together... - she replies, also whispering, and pausing to gasp when he finds a particularly sensitive spot - Then I take care of your injuries, and then of the rest of you..." she concludes, cupping his groin with her hand.
He hisses in pleasure, and bucks, and in a moment the rest of his clothes are on the floor and he is naked and ready for her, and she cannot help but admire him, because he is undeniably beautiful, all long limbs, lean muscle, and soft, slightly veiny blue skin, tinged with a deeper blue where the blood flows closer to the surface along his proud, erect manhood.
She cannot help but tease it with feather-light fingers and he nearly crumbles to his knees.
So sensitive, so responsive...
She needs to remember that it is his first time.
She will be gentle. She will show him how good it can be, how good it will be from now on.

Her clothes also hit the floor, and she can feel his gaze roam all over her. He says something in Kree that she doesn't quite understand, but the tone is enough to fill her heart with so much joy that it aches a bit.
"I love you..." she whispers, and leads him by the hand to the bathroom and then into the shower.

They stand under the warm water, caressing each other gently and lovingly.
They are naked but there is nothing overtly sexual as she lathers the traces of sweat and blood off his skin, or as he washes her hair, gently massaging her scalp. Their hands roam all over each other, but they are not making love to each other, not exactly. It feels more like a ritual, as if by doing that they are cleansing each other of all guilt and wrongs, in preparation for a new start.
It feels solemn and important, almost sacred, and that solemnity carries over when they leave the confines of the shower, and go back to the room to dry off, so that when she applies bruise salve on his injuries, it seems as if she is anointing him for some ceremony, and it is fitting somehow, because love should be sacred and together they are celebrating it, and celebrating life.

And then finally Ronan takes the jar of salve out of her hands, puts it onto the bedside table and presses her to the bed.
He touches and kisses her everywhere he can reach, and Gamora is almost tempted to let him try out whatever he has in mind, but ultimately she wraps her legs around his waist and flips them over, gently forcing him on his back.
She lays next to him on the bed and kisses him softly as she runs her hand down his body and wraps it around his cock, stroking it over and over.
Oh, the noises he makes! And how he trembles and twitches under her, whispering praise and encouragement, telling her that he loves her and pleading "Please, more!".
Gamora feels herself getting wet and ready just by watching and hearing his reactions, until she is whimpering too, in need, and it is so great that it is driving her mad.

"Do you want me?" she whispers, her voice rough with desire.
Ronan nods convulsively. "Yes! Please! Take me!" he begs.
Gamora immediately obliges, straddling his waist and slowly, painstakingly lowering herself on him.
He is big, and she has had almost no preparation, so it is a bit slow going, but it is worth it for all the small, helpless sounds he is making and the awe on his face, and finally she manages to take him in to the hilt and starts riding him slowly and gently, but there is no need for haste, no need for force.
She can feel him deep inside her, nudging all the right places at every movement of her hips, and her pleasure is rising little by little, and below her he is nearly twisting in bed with delight, and from his lips pours a torrent of moans and gasps and words of love, and as he gets closer he loses his Trader's and the liquid syllables of High Kree resonate into her ears and it sounds beautiful, like poetry.

"I am... close..." he rasps between moans, and Gamora smiles and nods, because she is close too. She changes the angle of her hips and when she moves again, sparks of bliss start coursing through her veins.
She watches his expression turn into one of ecstasy as she brings him to his peak for the first time in his life. His eyes screw shut and he arches off the bed as he roars and gasps his pleasure, and her last coherent thought before she loses herself too is that he is so very beautiful, and she will never be able to get enough of him.

Bliss overtakes her in turn, and when they both come down from it and lay entwined on the now-messy bed, whispering sweet nothings as they slip into the darkness of sleep, she feels blessed, so incredibly lucky that they have managed to fix what was broken in their lives and get there, where they are now.
The only thing that could make it more perfect would be to have Peter there with them, but he will be, and they can wait a bit more.

Everything will be as it should.