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 diarmour, thefreakoutsideyourwindow and importchic for their reviews.
Thefreakoutsideyourwindow: I'll check out the song. Thanks for the suggestion.
Warnings:M/M smut and some angst/grief.
Enjoy, and please don't shout at me!
It has not yet been three weeks since he was allowed in his meryw's bed, but Ronan already knows the sound of Peter's breath when he slumbers. He has learned the rythm of his heart, so fast compared to his own, but slower compared to the frantic tattoo of his waking hours, and has grown accustomed to feel his body relax against his own.
Even though Peter lies still and quiet in bed next to him, those little, unobstrusive signs betray him. He is still wide awake.
Ronan cannot really blame him.
Even though he feels still weary and sore, he cannot really go back to sleep either. He has slept enough, and peacefully. These might be the last hours he has with his meryw, and he doesn't want to waste them by sleeping some more.
"I know you are awake." he whispers, threading his fingers through Peter's hair.
The Terran's blue eyes open and a wistful little smile appears on his face.
"Sorry, I didn't want to disturb you." Peter apologises,
"I couldn't sleep either." Ronan confesses. He traces Peter's handsome features with the barest tip of his fingers, closing his eyes to better savour the feeling. He is going to miss this.
"You are thinking about it." Peter chides gently, placing his warm, warm hand on his cheek.
"I can't help it." Ronan admits with a sigh.
"Me neither. - Peter confesses quietly - I am scared. I don't want to lose you."
"You won't. - Ronan retorts, reopening his eyes and holding Peter's gaze with his own - Even though we might be forced to be apart, I will always be yours. I promised you forever, and though it has no legal value, for me it is no less binding. I will stay true to you two, whatever happens." he declares.
"I know, and I feel the same way about it, but... I need you here with me. And Gamora does too. - Peter protests - And I don't mean just because of this." he adds, gesturing widely to the messy bed where they are lying entwined.
"I mean because of the weird music you listen to when you cook dinner. I mean because of the creepy conversations you have with Rocket and Drax about weapons. I mean because of when we find you curled up in a corner with a book or my comics... I mean for everything." he explains, and his eyes start to fill up with tears.
"You are so much part of our lives, that... I don't know... It would be so strange, so wrong for you not to be there anymore." he sobs and Ronan pulls him tighter against his chest, biting the inside of his cheek to prevent himself from crying too.
"What will be, will be, Peter. We did what we could to turn things our way, but it is out of our control now. - he whispers, kissing the top of his head - But I am here, now. We are together. Let's not waste these moments by worrying about the future." he continues, almost pleading.
Peter nods as best as he can, snuggling even closer to him.
"I didn't use to think about anything farther away than five minutes in the future, I swear. - Peter mumbles - It must be your influence. You're too responsible for your own good." he jokes. It feels a bit forced but it's a start.
"What would I do without you teaching me how to have fun?" Ronan teases, hoping to lift his mood even further.
Peter seems to take the bait. He lifts his head and flashes him a crooked smile.
"You'd be bored, bluebell. - he replies quietly - Constantly, awfully bored. And melancholy. And so, so frustrated..." he adds, whispering the last few words in his ear.
His hands slide slowly down Ronan's body, and all of a sudden he finds himself hardening again. He tries to be silent and impassive, but his breath hitches in anticipation. He is caught.
Peter's eyes light up with a mischievious glint. He relishes the effect that his words and his touch have on him. His fingers glide tantalisingly over the bandages, lower and lower, and stop just short of where Ronan wants them.
He lets out a quiet growl of frustration.
"Yes, a bit like this..." Peter chuckles, setting his warm, rough hands on his hips and kneading lightly. His fingers trace his hipbones, then slide to his groin and then lower, teasing his inner tighs, not quite there, but almost. Ronan rolls to his back and spreads his legs for him, but Peter doesn't catch the totally unsubtle hint.
His fingers keep on teasing, but move no further.
"Not so easy today, bluebell..." he whispers, dipping his head to kiss him. Ronan responds eagerly to that kiss, unable to repress a shiver of anticipation. Whatever Peter might have in mind, it will probably feel wonderful.
"You like it when I touch you there, don't you?" Peter asks, sliding his fingers ever closer.
Ronan nods frantically. Peter's eyes have gone wide and dark with lust and his gaze pins him to the bed more certainly than any restraint.
"You like it when I spread you open with my fingers. - he continues, gently brushing the lower curve of his buttocks - You love it when I slide my cock inside you, all the way in, when I thrust into you, when I push you off the brink... You whimper for me... you come for me..." he whispers, and finally brushes his fingers against his entrance.
Ronan has to bite his lip to repress a mewling cry.
All it took were his words and the barest touch, and he is already panting, his cock is twitching, fully hard and aching. The slightest caress is what it takes for him to cry out and try to arch into Peter's touch, but his hands withdraw, leaving him desperate for more.
"Oh, mery! - he gasps - I love what you do. I am yours. Ask me whatever you want..." he pleads.
"I want you to take me, this time. - Peter growls - I want to feel you inside of me." he adds.
"Oh, Pama..." Ronan gasps, squeezing his eyes shut and tossing his head on the pillow.
He had never considered it, but now that the possibility is out there in the open... part of him likes the idea of going along with Peter's request. To take him apart slowly and gently, to fill him with as much pleasure as he can take, to worship him with his body like he does to Gamora... It would be heavenly.
Part of him is worried, though. Peter is fragile compared to him and Gamora, so much more breakable, and the last thing he wants he wants is to hurt him.
"I want to be so full of you that I cannot think of anything else." Peter continues, low and sultry.
It is more than Ronan can take. He silences him with a kiss and rolls them over, so that Peter is pressed against the mattress, trapped under him.
He takes his wrists and holds him down, letting him feel a bit of his strength, but his meri doesn't seem intimidated by it. He squirms in pleasure instead, and somehow manages to wrap his legs around Ronan's waist, almost lining himself up for the taking.
Ronan can imagine himself sinking in that pliant, vulnerable body, moving within it until Peter is trembling in pleasure, until he loses himself in it. He wants it with an intensity that scares him, but he cannot get past the thought that if he slips up, if his control wavers even for a moment, he could hurt him, and hurt him badly.
This is something he can't accept.
"I can't. - he rasps - I can't do this, Peter."
"Why?" Peter asks. He thrusts his hips against Ronan's, rubbing himself against him shamelessly.
"Don't you want this?" he asks.
Ronan hisses in pleasure at the delicious friction.
"I do... I want it badly. - he confesses with a light thrust of his own - Too badly. It is not safe." he adds.
"It's going to be alright." Peter reassures him.
"No, it's not. - Ronan insists - I want to watch you fall apart for me... I want you to let go of all control and take as much pleasure as I can give to you..." he whispers, and Peter groans and arches and it gets harder and harder to remember what he was going to say.
"But what if it is too much, too beautiful for me to bear? What if I lose control too, and forget to mind my strength with you? - he continues between gritted teeth - What if I hurt you, meri? I can't face it... I can't..." he whispers, pressing a small, chaste kiss at the corner of Peter's lips and freeing his hands.
"I know you don't want to hurt me. - Peter says gently - And I know how much stronger than me you are... Do you think I don't?" he asks, running his hands lovingly on his arms and shoulders.
"I know and I love it. - he adds, letting his hands slide to his back - And I know that despite it, you've never hurt me, not even when we sparred. I feel safe with you. I trust you. I know you won't hurt me." Peter declares, and there is so much raw, naked trust in his gaze that Ronan has to look away. He doesn't deserve it in these circumnstances.
"This is different, Peter. I... - he starts to say, but cannot find the words - You cannot know that I won't." Ronan retorts, a hint of a growl in his voice.
"I do. Because I won't let you. - Peter insists, self-assured as usual - You don't need to worry about losing control, because you won't be in control of this." he declares huskily.
He twists his hips and throws his weight to the side, and suddenly Ronan finds himself back on the bed.
Peter is straddling his hips and grins victoriously at his surprise.
"I will be." he announces.
His hand wraps around Ronan's cock and he gives it a hard, firm squeeze.
"I will set the pace. I will call the shots." continues in a firm, gentle tone that, combined with his unrelenting grip, has Ronan writhing on the bed in helpless abandon.
"We'll be safe. Both of us. - Peter adds more softly, releasing some of the pressure on his manhood - I can enjoy your strength, and you can enjoy me yielding to it. We can both let go." he promises.
His smile is soft and his lips are soft when he dips his head to kiss him, but Ronan feels his desire burn ever brighter for that, and when they break the kiss, he is panting and straining. His worry, his fear... they are gone, leaving only raw, sharp need, and he feels nearly mad with it.
"Do you trust me?" Peter asks, looking down at Ronan with a soft, loving gaze.
"Yes. Always." Ronan promises.
"Do you want this?" Peter insists, gripping him again.
"Oh! Meri! I do! I do... - Ronan gasps - I need this..."
"That makes two of us. - Peter comments huskily - Gods, you're so beautiful... and so big..." he comments, running his fingers appreciatively up and down his cock.
Ronan twitches in his hands and feels himself blushing furiously at his words.
Before he can reply in any way, however, Peter has flipped them in bed again, and he is nestled once more between Peter's spread, creamy tighs. He lets his hands slide down his legs and grabs hold of his firm, muscular ass, kneading with enough force to let him feel it, but not enough to bruise.
Peter whimpers and nods, his eyes unfocused. A dark pink blush is spreading on his face and chest. He is beautiful.
"What do you want me to do?" Ronan asks hoarsely.
Peter turns his head towards the bedside table. The vial of oil is still there, still half-full.
Ronan meets his gaze and leans out towards it, hovering close to it without quite taking it.
"Touch me... Make me ready for you..." Peter instructs.
He does.
He takes his time, and patiently spreads him up with oiled, careful fingers, slowly and gently, savouring every breathless moan, every eager jerk of his hips, every blush, every twitch of his hard, flushed cock.
Peter asks for more, and he gives it to him, slipping another finger inside his tight, hot hole, and then one more, twisting and scissoring, gradually stretching him, until he is slick and loose and almost gaping, until his eyes are screwed shut and his lips are red and swollen from how he has been biting them, until they are both trembling in need and nearly out of control.
"I need to be inside you... please..." Ronan begs. He has barely been touched, and he feels already close and desperate.
"Yes! Yes! Do it!" Peter cries out, clawing his shoulders in his frantic eagerness.
Ronan silences him with a quick kiss, then picks up the vial again, and pours more oil on his hand.
He makes a show of letting it drip over his cock and spreads it all over its length in slow, languorous pulls.
It takes nearly almost all his remaining control to stay silent and calm, to let him watch at leisure, but it's definitely worth the effort just to see Peter's expression shift from breathless bliss to hunger, to have his meri surge from the bed and pounce on him, kissing him hard and demanding as he presses him to the mattress.
Peter takes him in hand and lines himself up, slowly, torturously sinking over him.
His expression is torn between bliss and torment as he is breached, and a breathless gasp erupts from his lips when the head is finally sheathed inside him.
Ronan places his hands on his hips, steadying him, supporting him, helping him prolong the beautiful torment that has both of them in its grip.
How easy it would be to pull him down as he thrusts his hips upwards, to sink inside him in one single, glorious push, to see Peter strain to take it all at once, too full to do anything but tremble...
He is tempted, but fights the temptation away. It is not his call to make.
Maybe next time, if there is a next time...
For now, his meri seems happy to take his time, sinking over him inch by inch, until, finally, he is sheathed inside him as deep as he would go.
Peter stops, trying to adjust. His breath comes in gasps and pants, his brow is covered in a sheen of sweat, his inner muscles tremble and flutter.
Ronan arches into him and lets out a low moan.
Peter's body temperature is at least three or four degrees higher than his own, it's a Terran thing. He always feels warm to him, but now he feels burning hot, almost too much, and tight, almost impossibly so, like a vice grip wrapped around his manhood, and it feels amazing, beyond words, beyond comparison.
"Gods, bluebell... You feel so fucking good..." Peter moans, throwing his head back.
Ronan curses under his breath and tightens his grip on Peter's hips.
"Move for me, meri. Please... Move!" he pleads.
Peter nods. He bites his lips in concentration and starts rolling his hips, rising and sinking over his length. It is slow and uncertain at first, but as he adjusts to the stretch and the pressure, as he discovers exactly how he likes it, his movements become faster and sharper, more assured.
He grabs hold of the headboard for leverage and soon he is fucking himself on Ronan's cock as hard and fast as he can, crying out in pleasure at each pounding stroke.
Ronan helps him, guiding him with his hands on his hips, thrusting into him as much as the position allows. He feels his own pleasure mounting up, he feels Peter start to falter.
He tries to slide his hand to his neglected cock, but Peter's hand clenches over his wrist and drags it back to his hip.
"No! - Peter gasps, shaking his head - I'm close! Wait! Just wait, for the sake of the gods!" he half orders, half pleads.
Ronan's mouth falls open in astonishment.
"Do you think you can...? - he gasps - Just from having me inside you...?" he adds, trying to wrap his head around the concept.
"Yes! Gods, yes! - Peter cries out, clawing at the headboard in the attempt to keep moving - I am... I am nearly there... Wait for me, bluebell. Can you?" he gasps, looking down at him with desperate eyes.
Those words, that look... they do things to him, pushing him closer to the brink, but he nods, fighting to stay focused.
"I can." he promises between gritted teeth.
His hands slip from his hips to his backside, and he is bodily lifting Peter and lowering him back down again to meet his hard thrusts, while Peter holds on to the headboard for dear life and yields to him. He is doing most if not all of the job now, but it's worth it.
Peter's lovely face is slack in extasy, his eyes closed, his head thrown back. His body arches gracefully, taut like a coiled spring, and his cock twitches helplessly, harder and harder, and the grip of his body on him tightens and tightens...
And suddenly Peter cries out, a hoarse, wordless roar, and comes in long, convulsive spurts. His inner muscles squeeze his cock in time with them, over and over, and he is left breathless by the beauty of his surrender...
He manages maybe one or two thrusts more before he too lets go, sheathing himself ball-deep into that wonderful, pliant body and filling him with his own release, and it is so powerful that for a moment he can hardly breathe.
He can only hold his meri close, and shake silently, helplessly.
Words cannot describe the fierce, heart-wrenching joy of that moment.
Fucked out.
It is a rather crude term, but Peter finds it describes exactly how he is feeling in that moment.
He dimly notices that his position, sprawled on top of Ronan and still joined with him, is not the most comfortable in the world, his hips and knees are starting to ache, and his front is wet and sticky, but he is still too boneless with pleasure to summon the will to move.
His body aches with a good sort of ache, and Ronan is warmer than his usual beneath him, solid and reassuring, relaxed in something that is not quite sleep, but it is close enough. It makes him feel safe and cherished.
Ronan threads his fingers into his hair, petting it gently.
Peter leans into his touch, nearly purring in delight. He loves his careful, gentle side as much as he loves the strength and savage focus he shows when he kicks ass left right and center on a battlefield.
He loves even that ferocious not-smile that he has when he is fighting, even though it used to scare the shit out of him.
It would be hard for him to think of something he does not love about him.
"I love you too, Peter Jason Quill..." Ronan whispers, placing a soft kiss on his brow, and only then Peter realises that he has been talking out loud.
With some effort, Peter raises himself on his arms to look at him. He feels floppy and clumsy, and totally un-sexy, but Ronan still looks at him as if he was everything good in the world. Things like these are worth living for.
He dips his head to kiss that smiling mouth, but the movement must put pressure on some of Ronan's scars and he lets out a small hiss of pain.
Peter freezes immediately, worried about moving either way before he hurts him more.
"I'm sorry, bluebell... I'm so sorry..." he says, cringing.
"It's alright, meri. - he reassures - You didn't do anything wrong. I'm just a bit sore."
"Do you want me to get off?" Peter asks.
Ronan actually hesitates a moment before nodding.
"I am afraid it is necessary." he admits ruefully.
Peter smiles at him and complies, gingerly shifting his weigth to his legs and then slipping off his mostly soft cock. It's odd how good even this feels. He actually has to bite back a groan as the head slips off him with a faint pop.
Peter lets himself fall on the bed next to Ronan, breathing heavily once more.
He feels tender and swollen, and a deep-seated ache pulsates inside him. It's not quite pain, he doesn't think so, but if it is, it's a good kind of pain.
"Does it always feel like this, afterwards? - he asks, turning towards Ronan - Like you're all quivering inside?" he adds.
"To me, it does. - Ronan confesses - Haven't you ever felt like this... afterwards?" he asks, brushing Peter's hair away from his forehead. His expression is slightly concerned, but there is some pride in it. He must like the idea of being a better lay than the guys he has had before.
Peter is sure he will like the truth even more.
"I have never been with a guy like I have been with you today." he reveals.
Predictably, Ronan's face goes almost blank in confusion and perplexity.
"You popped my cherry." Peter clarifies cheerfully.
Ronan flushes dark blue and his eyes go wide and dark in surprise. It takes him a couple of tries before he actually manages to formulate the questions Peter can almost see in his eyes into words.
"Really? There has really never been anyone else? - he manages to stammer, sounding incredulous, but also proud and pleased - You have... I mean... I wasn't your first male partner... right?" he adds, blushing and looking away. His arms tighten possessively around him though. Peter doesn't mind at all.
"Rocket and Drax... they say you were very... active... and experimental..." Ronan objects, growing even more indigo blue in embarrassment.
"The way they say it must be more like I screwed my way across the Cluster... - Peter corrects with a wry little laugh - And it is true. I have been with girls, guys, cis, trans, non-binaries, and even with people whose species have a totally different system of sexes. Sometimes I didn't even know where to stick it..." he narrates. That brings an embarrassed grimace to Ronan's face, and Peter leans into him to kiss it away.
"So yes, I have been with guys before, but they never asked that of me, and I never offered. I was a top, I topped. Following a role is much easier." he explains.
"I never really felt safe to let go of control. It never felt right to try, not like it does with you. - he confesses - But then again, I never liked any guy as much as I like you, same as I never liked any girl as I like Gamora." he reveals, and his heart does a little weird flip of joy when Ronan's expression turns from confusion to contentedness.
"To be honest, I don't think I have ever really loved anyone before you two came along." he confesses after a moment, very, very quiet.
"Before, it was just sex. Just something physical. It didn't really mean anything to me. - Peter continues, looking into his boyfriend's blue, blue eyes - I did it for fun, because it does feel good, but there was hardly any emotion in it. I didn't care about the people I did those things with. In the best cases, we both used each other and parted ways..."
He pauses. He had never given much thought to his previous partners, but now he feels bad about how he has acted with some of them, about how self-centered and frivolous he was. Not everyone was good at no-strings-attached.
"But I am afraid I behaved like a selfish asshole with many of them." he confesses ruefully.
"You, selfish? - Ronan asks, looking mildly bemused - The same man who put himself between a terrorist and the people who had injustly imprisoned him? The same man who took pity on a vanquished enemy and saved him? I find it hard to believe." he declares quietly.
"I wasn't the same person before that adventure. - Peter objects - After... after my mum, I couldn't bring myself to care. People would leave, or die. I didn't want more pain, so I didn't commit to anyone. I took, but I hardly gave anything back. It was easier." he confesses, feeling a bit teary. He doesn't know how they got here, to talking about his mum and his problems. This is not how he wanted the morning to go.
"I was broken, and too afraid to fix myself. - he continues nonetheless - I guess the whole Power Gem gig forced me to review my priorities. Being scared shitless and nearly dying a few times in a row does that to a person, I suppose..." he adds with a tentative smile.
"You are a brave man, meri. One of the bravest I've ever met." Ronan whispers, shutting him up with a slow, languorous kiss.
"Not crazy?" Peter manages to gasp between kisses.
"That too. - Ronan concedes, ruffling his hair - And whatever you might think about it, you have a big, warm heart. I am honoured that you have allowed me a place in it." he adds, placing his hand tenderly on his chest.
"I couldn't help it, bluebell. - Peter whispers placing his own hand over his - You fit perfectly in it. It would have felt empty without you." he adds, and even though he knows how cheesy it must sound, it feels right to say it, because that's how he feels.
Ronan makes a small, happy sound and presses them closer, front to front as they lie on their sides. Peter shifts even closer, trying to fold into his embrace and plaster himself all over him.
"We made a mess of your bandages..." he comments, shuddering lightly at the cold wetness of them against his skin.
"Don't fret. They needed changing anyway." Ronan replies calmly.
Peter nods and nuzzles into his neck, mindful of the collar. He smells good.
Big, cool hands trace paths along his back and sides, unhurriedly, almost sleepily. There is nothing more relaxing in the whole Universe and in spite of all the things he wanted to say to Ronan, in spite of the fact that the time they have left is running out, Peter finds himself drifting off.
It feels too good to resist.
Peter cannot tell if he has fallen asleep or not, or how long they have been like that. It feels forever, and just the briefest moment. Does time even matter when everything feels so perfect?
Warm hands are caressing his hair and face, strong and slightly calloused, but too warm and too small to be Ronan's.
Peter purrs into that touch and lazily opens an eye, twisting a little to look over his shoulder.
"Morning, love..." Gamora whispers. There is a loving smile on her face, but her eyes look like she has been crying.
Peter jolts into immediate wakefulness.
"Is everything alright, merit?" Ronan whispers. He must have woken before him, he always does. They can fall asleep anywhere in a matter of minutes and be awake instantly at the smallest noise or shift, both him and Gamora. It's military conditioning at its best, Peter thinks a bit ruefully. It's how they are, and even though it is rather annoying at times, he loves them even for that.
"It is. It was a bit emotional, but it was to be expected. - Gamora replies quietly - But we're good. And it's all working well and spreading fast. The people from the Anti-War Network are doing a great job of it."
Ronan lets out a sigh of relief.
"Let's hope it is enough." he says.
"It will be. - Gamora retorts, leaning over Peter to brush his cheek in a caress - The dead will have justice. The Council will hold. You will stay with us. We have to believe in this." she adds. There is a hint of wetness to her eyes, and a bit of desperation to her voice.
"I believe in it." Ronan says, without hesitation.
"Yeah, me too." Peter chimes in, a bit less adamant in his conviction.
He pulls her down to the bed and nudges her to wedge between him and Ronan. Gamora doesn' even put up a token protest. She takes off her top, throws it out of the bed and snuggles in between them.
"No blankets, otherwise we'll fall asleep again, and it's nearly time for breakfast." she declares.
No one objects. They are comfortable enough like that.
They stay there, holding each other as close as possible, and nearly manage to doze off again.