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.
Thanks to , Priest of Pain and thefreakoutsideyourwindow for their reviews.
Sorry for the one-week delay on top of the announced delay, but upon coming back from holidays I was swamped by work and by a few health issues. I hope that the smut will make up for it.
So, let's get to business.
Warnings: M/F/M smut with all the trimmings. I made you wait for it long enough.
Enjoy, and please don't shout at me!
They retire early, much earlier than they used to since they arrived at the Palace.
Ronan's half-healed wounds give them a perfect excuse to hide in their room.
He feels tired and actually had to take some painkillers around dinnertime, but the truth is that maintaining the pretence of calm in spite of what is going on in the Council and in Andromake's room is becoming very, very taxing.
Finally lying down on their bed with his meryw, away from prying eyes and ears, is an incredible relief.
Gamora and Peter start to help him out of his clothes, gently teasing him like during the morning. This time there is nothing to stop them, and Ronan does not hesitate to tease right back, sliding his hands under Gamora's shirt, and pulling it up, uncovering her breasts.
She hates bras, and he loves the things that gravity does to her curves and the way her dark green nipples perk up when he blows on them.
"We don't have to do anything, if you don't want, alright, bluebell?" Peter whispers, even as he starts kneading the muscles in his back in a way that has Ronan already hard in his trousers.
"You just need to tell us to stop and that's it. No pressure." he adds.
Ronan frowns and gives him a blank stare.
"What are you talking about?" he asks.
"That man... Loki and Nebula said that he is... - Gamora says, turning his face gently back towards her - We don't want to trigger anything. We just want to make you feel good." she adds gently, stroking his cheek with her fingertips.
Ronan's heart nearly wrenches in a sudden surge of love.
He kisses her as hard as the still-tender scars on his face allow him.
"I am fairly new at this thing... - he says heatedly, pausing to capture her lips in another kiss - but I think I know the difference between lovemaking, and torture by way of forced sex. Nothing you might do will ever resemble what he wanted to do. This is as different from that as day from night." he declares.
"Even so, tell us if you feel uncomfortable with something. - Gamora insists - We would never want to cause you harm or force you into things that you don't enjoy anymore." she adds.
"Gamora is right. - Peter agrees - You set the pace this time." he declares.
"I will be fine with almost everything, I think. - Ronan replies with a certain confidence - Maybe I won't ask for bondage or bloodplay, at least not for a while, but I know I want you. I need you. I have missed you so much, and now they might take all of this away..." he confesses, feeling his heart twinge again, this time with the anticipation of sorrow.
Gamora silences him with a kiss, while Peter manages to slide a hand inside his trousers and wraps it around his cock, giving it a good hard squeeze that has him arching helplessly and moaning against Gamora's mouth.
"Don't say it." Peter rasps in his ear. Gamora has managed to unfasten his trousers and Peter is now stroking him in smooth, decisive pulls, while she seems intent in kissing the breath out of him.
"Don't even think about it." Peter continues, his breath warm against his neck.
Trapped between them like this, with her breasts pressed against his chest, and his cock twitching against his backside, and their warm hands and mouths seemingly everywhere at once, he can barely formulate any coherent thought.
"Think only of us, of here and now." Peter insists, giving him another squeeze.
Ronan moans again and then nearly screams when Peter bites down on his neck, just as he likes it.
He breaks the kiss to get some air, and somehow Peter manages to replace Gamora's mouth with his, while her smaller, smoother hands slide down his body to replace Peter's, gliding along his throbbing flesh. Ronan loves to be a their mercy like that.
"What do you want, love?" she asks, momentarily stopping her torturous strokes to slide his trousers down his legs. He tries to help her, kicking them off his legs and nearly off the bed. He is totally bare now, apart from the bandages. In another life, he would have been ashamed, now he is only mildly miffed that his meryw are still partially clothed.
Gamora's fingers slide along his cock in a subtle, barely-there caress that she knows he loves. He can't help but jerk and twitch under her touch, and then she takes hold of his balls in her hand and squeezes them gently, oh so very gently, but firmly, letting him feel that she is in control, that she owns him.
He moans in pleasure, broken sounds escape from his lips and Peter has to hold him down or he'd jerk upright and risk tearing his wounds open all over again.
"What do you want?" Gamora asks again, smoothing her hands along his hips and legs to help him calm down enough to be coherent.
"You... - he manages to rasp - I want you both." he confesses, still trembling from the aftershocks of what she has been doing to him.
Her eyes go dark and huge and a dark flush creeps up her face. At his back, Peter lets out a small whimper and his manhood jumps like a beached fish, still trapped in his trousers.
They are both affected by his words, they both want it as much as he does.
"Are you sure?" Peter growls close to his ear.
"Yes! Sweet Pama, yes! - Ronan exclaims, tangling a hand in Peter's curls as the Terran starts nipping and sucking his neck - I want to be trapped between you. I want to feel you both at the same time. Please... please!" he nearly whines, dignity all but forgotten. He is more desperate for it now, than he was the first time. You can't miss something you've never had.
"It's hard to say no to anything you ask, when you ask it like this..." Peter whispers, releasing his grip on him and helping him to sit up.
Peter is the only one who is still fully dressed. At this point it is hardly appropriate.
Ronan and Gamora make short work of his clothes, then Ronan turns towards Gamora and tackles her to the bed.
They kiss frantically as they both try to get her out of her trousers and panties as fast as possible. She seems as desperate as he is, and shivers helplessly as his hands move along her body, tracing her hard, lean muscles and her soft, pliant curves, her warm, smooth skin and her cool, sleek implants. She is a creature of contrasts, and he loves every facet of her being.
His hands move lower and lower, and his mouth follows suit. He is probably going to regret this, come morning, but he can't resist the temptation of tasting her, of giving her everything he has to give, everything he is.
He grasps her pert breasts, marvelling once more at how her soft flesh yields to his touch, and worships them as best as he can, kissing and licking and nipping, and when he starts sucking gently on her nipples, Gamora mewls and whimpers and arches underneath him. Somewhere behind him, Peter lets out a strangled noise of pleasure. Ronan can feel him watching them, he can feel the heat of his gaze. It is a heady feeling.
He can't resist their reactions. One of his hands moves lower still, slipping between Gamora's legs, parted for him, and he finds her wet and welcoming, and it feels so good that he can't help but moan with her and yearn to be inside her.
Not yet, he tells himself. Not yet.
They are all so desperate tonight that it is unlikely they will be able to pull back, once they start moving together, and he wants Gamora to be ready for that, to be as close to rapture as he and Peter will be. Maybe a bit more than that...
He loves how he and Peter can sometimes bring her to completion over and over again, until she is barely able to string a coherent sentence together.
"You don't have to do it..." she manages to say when his mouth joins his hands between her legs.
"I don't want to hurt you..." she adds, and until that moment, Ronan had not really thought about the fact that going down on her might be uncomfortable for him.
"Let me try, please..." he pleads nonetheless, giving her folds an experimental lick. She shudders and tries to arch, but he places a hand flat on her belly and manages to keep her down.
"I love doing this to you. I love making you feel good. - he adds in a whisper - I'll stop if it hurts, but please, let me at least try." he insists.
Gamora hesitates and seems on the verge of making further objections.
"Would it help if I held you? - Peter intervenes - Would it make you feels safer?" he asks.
Gamora's eyes go wide, her breath hitches and her pulse jumps in her neck. She nods frantically. So far she had never asked to be topped by either of them, but tonight she seems so very eager for it.
"Please..." she nearly moans and Peter immediately complies. He helps her to half-sit, and slides behind her, resting his back against the headboard and letting her lean against his chest. His legs twine with hers and he wraps his arms around her middle, pinning her arms against her body. She is stronger than Peter and she knows it, she could quite easily break his hold if she wanted but, even if the gesture is symbolic, it still does it for her.
"Don't move." Peter whispers in her ear, and Gamora just nods wordlessly and when Ronan starts licking and sucking her clit in earnest, she stays almost completely still.
Usually, she is the most restrained and collected of the three of them, but this time her pleasure spills from her lips in moans, sighs and broken pleas, and, hell, it does hurt a bit, Ronan thinks, but to see her like this seems worth any kind of sacrifice.
"I am close!" she warns with a hint of alarm.
"Oh, yes. I can feel it..." Ronan growls, pausing only for a moment.
He looks up at his meryw, at Gamora's flushed face and straining body, at Peter's darkened eyes and slack expression.
"Come for me, my merit. Please..." he encourages her, twisting his fingers inside her, looking for that spot that makes whimpers fall faster from her lips, but she just tenses and tenses, trembling in all her limbs, and shakes her head.
"I'll hold you. - Peter promises - Just let go, alright? I won't let you hurt him." he encourages, tightening his hold on her.
Gamora whimpers again and nods, and when he starts pleasuring her again, Ronan can feel her let go and relax, he can feel her fill with a different, altogether more pleasurable kind of tension.
And then suddenly it breaks, and Gamora is screaming and her pleasure is gushing over his lips and fingers, and there is nothing sweeter than that feeling.
"Oh, gods!" Peter exclaims, a desperate undercurrent to his words.
"You are so beautiful... - he adds fervently - Both of you."
Ronan allows himself a smirk as he wrings the last drops of pleasure from Gamora, licking her tender, swollen flesh a while more. Oh, he loves the sounds she makes when they push her past the limit.
"Stop! Stop now, please!" she begs eventually, abandoning herself completely to Peter's embrace.
Ronan does. He rises to his knees between their spread legs, and hugs them both.
Gamora smiles a lazy smile at him, freeing a hand from Peter's hold and gently tracing the scars on his face.
"I told you it was going to be fine." Ronan whispers, laying his forehead against hers.
"Thanks..." she whispers, giving him a quick kiss.
Peter whimpers in need, and Ronan moves to him, kissing him deeply and letting him taste Gamora on his lips. Peter moans against his mouth, trapped in turn, and for a moment Ronan is tempted to ask Gamora to help him take Peter apart, but however nice it might be, however tempting, that is not what he needs, what he yearns for. If he knew that they had forever for real, he would yield to that temptation, but tomorrow might never come, and he is not selfless enough to forgo what he desires most, not even for that.
"Come, merit, lie down with me." he says, taking Gamora from Peter's arms and helping her arrange herself on the bed. He lies down with her, half on top of her actually, and lets her kiss him and touch him however she likes, gentle, almost sleepy touches that soothe and inflame him at the same time.
The bed shifts beside them, and Ronan can feel Peter's presence at his back.
"Don't turn. - Gamora whispers, placing her warm hand on his cheek - Look at me." she instructs.
Ronan locks gazes with her and nods, feeling a first thrill of anticipation.
Something pops open with a crisp sound, and Ronan cannot help but whimper under his breath and spread his legs a bit further apart, waiting, yearning for what's to come.
He'd swear Peter picked an oil vial with a cork stopper just because of the effect it would have on him.
"Just look at me." Gamora repeats and he forces himself to obey, even if the temptation to turn and look at what's going on behind him is undeniable.
Cool, thick oil is poured onto the cleft of his buttocks, dripping down to his balls. Peter warm hands start rubbing it in, sliding from top to bottom, making him spread even more, making him raise his hips in a shameless display of need, teasing, promising pleasure beyond belief.
Gamora presses her lips to his and when Peter's finger finally breaches him, she swallows his hoarse cry.
This time, Ronan knows better than to try and resist the intrusion. He lets go, lets Peter work his magic, slowly prying him loose, slowly bringing him to higher and higher peaks of rapture.
A second finger joins the first, and Peter starts scissoring them, opening him up for more.
He loves to feel stretched by him.
If he could have his way, he'd ask Peter to just take him like that, to fill him almost to breaking point with his cock with little or no preparation. It does hurt a bit, but it is worth it just to feel that hard, throbbing heat take him apart little by little, to feel Peter almost fight his way in. The few times they have done that, just feeling Peter slowly slide all the way in, just having him sheathed inside him to the hilt, had basically been enough for Ronan to soil himself.
Peter seems to enjoy taking it slow, however, seems to draw pleasure from his pleasure, and Ronan doesn't have it in his heart to begrudge him anything, especially not tonight.
Peter crooks his fingers inside him in the most intimate caress, stroking him in a way that has stars exploding under his closed eyelids and whimpers pouring from his lips.
Gamora kisses him even more frantically, and rubs herself against him in a desperate search for friction. He can feel her wetness against his skin, the tension in her body and in her hands clenching on his shoulders. He lets his hand slide down her body, to her wet folds, and starts stroking her almost in time with Peter's strokes. Her moans mingle with his. There is no sweeter sound.
Concentrating on worshipping her takes him back from the sharp edge of his own yearning, allowing him to resist a bit more the bone-deep pleasure coursing through his veins, allowing his meryw a bit more time before the inevitable final rush.
Peter slips another finger inside him and he takes it. There is no pain in him, only delight.
They both know he can take more.
Once they made a game of it, trying to see just how much of it he could actually take, how long he could resist before giving in to pleasure.
He remembers Peter slipping his entire fist inside him nearly to the wrist, stretching him impossibly, obscenely wide, remembers coming undone in a trembling, sobbing mess, full to bursting with him, and the memory is enough to make him feel a shadow of that mad rush of elation.
Gamora is panting and gasping below him, once more lost to pleasure.
Her wetness gushes over his fingers as he stretches her in turn and he can think of nothing better than burying himself in her as deep as he can go.
Between his two meryw, he is getting closer and closer to the brink.
Another finger, and this time Peter has to work a bit for it, pushing and retreating and trying again until he is loose enough for it to slip in fully. Every other thought evaporates instantly from Ronan's mind. There is only that feeling, and it is almost too much already.
"Peter! - Ronan gasps - Sweet Pama, Peter, no more! Please! If you keep at this, I..."
"Shh... - Peter soothes him, rubbing a hand on his lower back in lazy circles - Just a moment more. Hold on for me, bluebell. I know you can take it." he says and there is so much affection and trust in his voice...
"Hold on for us, love." Gamora adds in a rough whisper, looking up at him with wide, dark eyes.
Ronan nods and closes his eyes, trying to find some measure of control. He braces for whatever Peter has in mind, slipping his fingers off Gamora and holding on for dear life to the bedsheets.
Peter spreads his fingers inside him, slowly stretching him even wider, overcoming the residual resistance of his body. He bites back a scream of tormented pleasure. The effort to stave off his climax makes him shake and tremble, and arch hopelessly. He doesn't know how he can resist, but he has to.
It is wonderful, but is not enough, it is not what he needs, he repeats to himself.
He is on the verge of saying the word, just to make it stop for a moment and buy himself a bit more time, when Peter finally stops.
Ronan nearly collapses on top of Gamora, breathing as hard as if he had been running a marathon.
He hears the oil vial being uncorked again, and makes to turn, but Gamora stops him again.
"Don't. Stay with me, love..." she whispers, pressing wet fingers to his lips. He licks them obediently. She has been touching herself while Peter was taking him apart.
"I couldn't help. You are so beautiful when you are like that." she says, almost shyly.
"Merit! Oh, merit! - he gasps - I... I need you."
"I need you too. - she retorts - Please..." she adds, spreading her legs further apart.
She doesn't have to ask twice. He lines himself up with her, and she takes him in her hand and guides him inside.
She is drenched and wide open for him, and he is past the point of taking it slow. He slams himself in her to the hilt in one long, smooth push that has them both crying out in delight.
Her legs wrap loosely around his waist and she arches, driving him even deeper, if it is possible.
He withdraws almost completely, and slams himself into her again and again, slipping his fingers over her clit to push her further towards the brink. Her inner muscles are trembling around him, she is not far from it.
"Peter! - he calls out - Peter, please! We need you now!" he begs.
A string of curses flows from the Terran's lips and his slick cock finally presses against his hole.
"I... I lost track. I like watching you two. - he confesses - No holding back now, right?" he adds with a light push.
"Don't even try." Ronan growls.
Peter grabs his hips in an almost bruising grip and presses into him in a hard thrust. He is so loose from what they were doing before, that his cock slides almost all the way in one go, filling him, hot and throbbing and wonderful, and this time he does scream and Peter curses and tightens his hold on his hips even more.
Peter fucks him hard, in long, powerful thrusts, and Ronan does the same to Gamora, giving them both everything he has, and he knows that his scars are going to ache later, and that he is hardly going to be able to sit, come morning, but it hardly matters.
All that matters is that Peter's thrusts hit that spot, over and over again, taking his breath away, and that Gamora's core flutters around his cock as she gets closer and closer to rapture, and that they both hold him tight, trapping him between them.
Gamora is the first to tip over the edge, and the sound of her moans, and the enraptured expression on her face are almost painfully beautiful. Her muscles clench around him, squeezing him in a strong grip and that finally tips him over too and he spills himself in her with a hoarse cry, almost taken by surprise by the suddenness and the intensity of it.
"Oh, gods, guys... I fucking love you!" Peter exclaims as he falters.
He thrusts inside him a handful of times still, sending spikes of sharp, breathtaking delight through Ronan's veins, and then he too lets go with one last, hard thrust and a triumphant roar.
They lay as they fall, exhausted, sated, and too boneless with pleasure to move.
Peter is still draped against his back, Gamora is snuggled against his front, and Ronan just lays there, still pressed between them, breathing in their scent and soaking up their warmth.
His thoughts are a whirlwind of ecstatic joy, soft wonder and melancholy.
This is too good, too terribly beautiful and blissful for him to be able to re-learn to live without it. He doesn't want to leave, not tomorrow, not ever. He doesn't want to lose this. He wants to live and die next to his meryw, with the family they found for themselves. Pama has blessed them with this small miracle, and as they slip softly into slumber, Ronan prays, asking her to bless them all once more, to allow them keep this beautiful thing at least for a while more.