It had been a long and exhausting couple of weeks and all Ronan yearned for was some rest. He wanted to have a shower, receive a thorough massage to get the tension out of his muscles, and then stretch out on his bed for a good night's sleep. He hadn't slept well in ages, he hadn't even had time to nap, and he was really done for.
There had been struggles at the outer rim of the Kree Empire; some trading posts had been repeatedly assaulted and robbed. Ronan and his men had spent four months hunting down the troublemakers, who had turned out to be an organised group of thieves and dealers. Now they were imprisoned and Ronan could return to Hala, having succeeded once more in his task as the Accuser.
But before they left for Hala, some of his men and the allies they had worked with here on the outer posts had insisted to celebrate and have some fun. Ronan himself was not very keen on having fun, but his men and their comrades had worked hard and they deserved some pleasant distraction. As Ronan was their leader and cultivated a strong bond with the men he fought with, he had agreed to accompany them. Their local allies had invited them to an establishment that they swore offered the best entertainment in the entire quadrant, so Ronan and the other Kree were now seated around a – to be honest – phallus-shaped stage, colourfully lit and used by some almost naked Fagharlan ladies who danced to some far too loud music. Glitter and confetti rained down around them and the colours lighting the stage pulsed and changed in rhythm with the tunes. Ronan hated every second of it.
He had nothing against music, but he didn't understand the concept of it when it was so loud that it hurt your ears and no one was really listening to it anyways. He had nothing against dancing either, but he didn't see why it had to be done by some girls clad in nothing but very sparse underwear and moving like they wanted to seduce everyone around to mate with them. What he, in fact, did have something against was glitter, especially when it was covering himself, and so his mood was everything but cheerful. His men, however, seemed to enjoy the show, so Ronan stayed where he was sitting on his chair, arms crossed and lower lip sticking out in what was a mixture of exhaustion, reluctance and distress. Some half-naked girls and boys served them drinks and Ronan thanked them with a small nod, but no drink in the universe would make this evening any more bearable for him.
When the music stopped playing, he silently hoped that the show would be over now and they all got to go home. This hope grew when the hardly dressed women left the stage and the lights went very dim. But then a far too enthusiastic voice came over the speakers to announce the highlight of the night and Ronan sunk down in his chair with a low grunt. Great. 'Highlight of the night' probably meant a completely nude lady now, or an oversized glitter bomb exploding right in his face. Maybe both. Ronan didn't want any of that, he wanted to go home already. Have that shower, have that massage, have that sleep he had been deprived of for weeks. Instead, he would have to listen to more of this noise now and watch more of this absolutely degrading dancing that –
His thoughts got interrupted when suddenly a very strange noise broke lose. It was music, as he realised after a few seconds, but a music the like he had never heard before. It was drums, that much he could tell. But the other instrument was completely foreign to his ears, something hard and metallic. As it continued playing, the light slowly got brighter again, spotlighting a part of the stage on which a figure was peeling out of the shadows. The broad frame and the size of the appearance made Ronan assume that it was a man this time, though he looked to not wear many clothes either.
And no, he wasn't. When the lights got bright enough, Ronan could see he was naked but for some rather tight, grey-brownish underwear that was covering his body from under the navel to the upper part of his thighs. The rest of his physique was naked though and the way he stood there in an anticipating stance showed how well-toned he was. He obviously was used to a lot of movement and in his case that apparently meant dancing. Ronan's lower lip slowly retreated to a less annoyed pout.
Suddenly someone began to sing. Ronan hadn't expected somebody to sing along with the music, as all the songs prior to this act had been instrumental only. But now a man was singing in a language Ronan had never heard before either, but that his translator could luckily catch.
Together with the singing, the man on the stage now began to move.
"One man come in the name of love," sang the man in the song, and the man on the stage started to gracefully spin around.
"One man come and go. One man come he to justify."
The bearing with which the man turned and stretched was breathtaking. Ronan knew a lot about body movements due to his excellent fighting skills and his long years of training, and this dancer really knew what he was doing. The way he arched and bowed had a flow to it that Ronan had hardly ever seen before.
"One man to overthrow."
He even was barefoot. He balanced himself so well on his soles and toes that Ronan was deeply impressed by his effortless elegance. This was dancing he could get behind. This was fascinating him in a manner he had never experienced before.
Suddenly the music shifted and the singer was changing the melody. He sang louder now, higher, more powerful. The man on the stage went with it, jumping and throwing himself through the air as if invisible strings would hold him, invisible hands would guide him, as if it wasn't just his muscles and his incredible sense of balance that made his movements look so easy and smooth. Ronan leaned forward in his chair, his eyes glued to the pirouetting man in front of him.
"In the name of love."
He jumped again.
"What more in the name of love."
Landing safely on his foot, taking the momentum to make a powerful spin.
"In the name of love."
He threw himself backwards, arching his spine.
"What more in the name of love."
Ronan couldn't keep still any longer.
The way this man was dancing ignited something inside of him, made him twitchy and impatient. He didn't even know what he actually wanted to do, what his subconscious was longing for and was so fidgety about. But he just yearned to get up, to become one with the rhythm and the music, with this twirling, stretching composition that was the dancer's body.
"One man caught on a barbed wire fence."
The way he moved was intoxicating.
"One man he resist."
Absolutely intriguing.
"One man washed on an empty beach."
Ronan had never felt this enthralled before, not even in battle.
"One man betrayed with a kiss."
As the second chorus started and the man began to once more let the music wash him over the stage like waves obeying to the pushing and pulling of the ocean, Ronan scooted forward to the very edge of his chair and placed his fingertips on the stage. It vibrated softly with the music and every time the dancer's feet hit it, Ronan could feel the impact shooting through his hands. It was the most intimate thing he had ever felt and it sent a shiver down his spine. He wanted more.
In the long instrumental part that followed the second chorus, the man on the stage spun and twirled so intensely that Ronan was certain he would lose his balance or fall off the stage. But the blur of light skin and reddish-brown hair always came back to a steady halt, in a pose so brilliantly performed that no limb trembled, no muscle twitched, that nothing made it look like the man was going through any effort at all. Ronan knew how hard it was to keep the tension in your body up, to balance yourself and not fall over, to land in a position so stable that you didn't sway even a little. What this man was doing there on the stage was mastery, and Ronan was so deeply impressed that it stunned him.
When the third verse started, the dancer calmed down. He almost moved as slow as in the beginning now, and Ronan could see every single muscle in his body stretch and bend with the movements. A hot longing started to bloom in Ronan's stomach, something he had never thought possible. He was a high-rank Kree with an excellent reputation and fighting skills like no other. He loved his people and his task to protect them, he loved to fight and he was good at it. His life was full of passion and commitment, but this was something new, even for him. Not even the intense frenzy of a great battle had ever consumed him like this.
Suddenly the man turned his head and his eyes met Ronan's. They were of a beautiful green and they glistened with joy and enthusiasm. Ronan practically felt his face drop at the contact, but he couldn't help it. Without warning, the longing in his abdomen exploded and shot up into his heart, into his brain, down into his loins, it set everything on fire. Ronan knew right there and then that he needed to be with the man on the stage, or he would go completely insane.
The dancer's lips curled up in a smile. Only for a split second was Ronan able to see it, before the man moved again and turned his face away from the Kree, but this moment was enough to engrave the picture into Ronan's mind. Never before had he seen anything as warm, genuine, lovely and beautiful as this smile, this simple acknowledgement of awareness. He was lost.
He didn't know whether it was due to their eye contact or whether it was an actual part of the performance, but the dancer now came closer to the front of the stage. Ronan was sitting directly opposite of the head of the elongated part of the stage, not to say the tip of the phallus. With every inch that the man was moving forward, he came closer to Ronan, and with every inch, the Accuser became more agitated.
"In the name of love."
Closer.
"What more in the name of love."
Even closer.
"In the name of love."
Only two metres away.
"What more in the name of love."
The regular singing stopped here and the singer limited himself to melodic Oos and Ohs. The dancer on the stage pirouetted again to the last beats of music, closing the distance between himself and Ronan completely. With the last tone of the song, he fell down on his knees right in front of the Kree, his face hovering only two hands away from Ronan's. If he had wanted to, he could have touched it.
They stared at each other as the people around them started applauding. Ronan knew it was only a couple of seconds, but for him, it felt like an eternity; the time in which the dancer just knelt there in front of him and looked him in the eyes, that wonderful smile forming on his lips again. This time it seemed a little cheeky to Ronan, a little teasing; as if that man knew exactly what his dance had done to the Accuser.
Ronan wanted to ask him something, maybe his name, but sadly the eternity was over and the dancer got up to bow boldly to his wildly clapping audience. Then he spun gracefully on his heels to float towards the back of the stage. Before he vanished behind the curtain, he turned to look over his shoulder one last time, searching Ronan's gaze. As their eyes met, the dancer winked at him with a broad grin. Then he was gone and Ronan was left with the lack of his presence.
Around him people still applauded. One of his men even asked him something, but Ronan was still zoned out. He felt like he was caught in a bubble, a bubble that centred around that dancer, and he never wanted to leave this perfect little sphere ever again.
Before he even realised it, he had gotten up and cleft through the people sitting around the stage or at small tables all around the room, until he had reached the door leading to the private section of the establishment. A tall Hurglar was guarding it, but, of course, everyone here knew Ronan the Accuser. Still, the guard cast him a questioning look and asked if he could help the Kree somehow.
"I demand to see the dancer," Ronan told him harshly. He wasn't angry at the poor guard, he was just doing his job. Still, he stood in between Ronan and the man he wanted to see, and the fire that was burning in the Kree's entire body had become awfully painful in the dancer's absence.
As the guard seemed to be surprised and confused by Ronan's wish, the Kree added: "I want to congratulate him on his performance. It was truly masterful and has entertained me greatly. He is rightfully called the highlight of this evening."
The guard nodded, still slightly uneasy. "I will see what I can do, master Ronan," he promised and then slipped through the door.
Ronan waited impatiently. He even thought about ignoring the guard and just entering the door without his permission, but he didn't want to cause any trouble. The dancer worked for this establishment, after all; he didn't want to enrage him or them by being an unpleasant guest.
The guard returned a few minutes later and held the door open for Ronan. "He would be happy to see you," he informed the Accuser. "His dressing room is down the hall, the second last door on the left. It has a golden star on it."
Ronan nodded and immediately pushed past the Hurglar to get into the narrow hallway behind the door. To his right, another little corridor led to the stage, but Ronan was solely focused on the rooms right ahead of him. Walking down the hallway, he scanned every door for a golden star.
He found it right where the guard had told him it would be: the second last door on the left. He stood there for a moment, just staring at the handle, not sure whether he should actually knock or just leave again. Suddenly he felt nervous and unsure about this whole enterprise. What if the dancer wouldn't want him around? What if he didn't appreciate Ronan's attempts to be with him? What should Ronan even say?
Oh, this was ridiculous. Ronan had fought enemies larger and more numerous than him with his bare hands, how could the simple idea of just talking to someone trip him up so much? He had never feared anyone rejecting him, or him not being able to handle a situation. Why would just walking in there and meeting the dancer make him this uncomfortable? This was nonsense!
Before he could think about his insecurity any longer, Ronan raised his hand and knocked on the door. There was an immediate response, coming in a low, yet slightly raspy voice.
"Yeah, come in!" the voice said. Ronan felt the fire inside of him rising up once more.
Swallowing once, he grabbed the handle and opened the door, stepping inside.
The room was tiny, not even four by four metres, and lit in an unreal, golden-pinkish light that came from dozens of small light-balls that were hung up on the walls like garlands. Opposite of the door, there was a dressing table with tons of photos and stickers glued around the frame of the mirror on the wall behind it. Clothes lay on the floor and over a chair that was standing in the rear left corner of the room. Between the table and the right wall, a bed was crammed into the chamber; large enough for two people, if necessary. A shelf, a small dresser, and a storage bench made room for some belongings. A few posters of stuff Ronan had no clue about hung on the walls, partly covered by the light-balls. This didn't look like a dressing room, this looked like a tiny apartment.
The dancer was standing in front of the dressing table, wrapped in a big, pink towel that he held shut with one hand and that covered everything but his head, feet and arms. He stood with his back towards the door but was already turning around to face his guest. That warm, genuine smile was showing on his face again and Ronan's gut contracted. He knew he was staring, but he couldn't help it.
"Hey there," the dancer greeted him with a soft chuckle. "Didn't take you long to come here. I didn't think you would be this fast."
Ronan blinked, still standing in the open door. "...You awaited me?" he asked in surprise.
The man chuckled again, friendly and warm. He came towards Ronan in a slow, lithe stride until they stood directly in front of each other. Ronan could feel the promise of the other male's touch all over his body.
"Did you like my dance?" the man wanted to know without answering Ronan's question. He smelled of sweat, but underneath that lay his very own scent that smelled sweet and flowery, yet also a little spicy. The entire room smelled like that and together with the unreal light, it felt like being inside of a dream.
"I admired it," Ronan heard himself say mechanically. "You are truly an extraordinary dancer. Never before have I seen somebody move like this."
Again, the dancer chuckled. It was such a beautiful sound and it made the fire in Ronan's chest grow even hotter. He had never kissed anyone before, but he wanted to taste that sweet sound off the other man's lips.
"Thank you," the man smiled. "That's kind of you to say. And even kinder of you to come here to tell me that, don't you think?"
Ronan was about to answer, but the man reached out ever so casually to wipe some confetti off the Kree's chest. The touch was soft, but it sent a heavy shudder through each of Ronan's muscles. That was it. That was exactly what he yearned for. To not only look at this man, but to feel his body everywhere on his.
"I want you," he blurted out. It sounded stupid and intrusive, but he couldn't say anything else. It was impossible. This man in front of him was rattling him and Ronan didn't have the eloquence, wit, or even the patience left to have an intelligent conversation with him right now. He was reduced to the aching need for this dancer, and there was no way he would be capable of doing anything else but to ask for fulfilment.
The owner of the room raised his brow but smiled only a second later. His fingers were still lingering on Ronan's chest and they radiated unnatural heat, fuelling the fire that was already close to consuming the Accuser fully. This was pure torture and yet the sweetest feeling Ronan had ever felt in his life.
"You want me?" the dancer repeated with a low laugh. "Isn't that a little blunt of you right now? We don't even know each other's names yet."
Despite his slight mocking, his hand did not leave Ronan's chest. The Kree looked down on it for a second before he met the other male's eyes again.
"I am Ronan," he then introduced himself. It still sounded mechanic, which was maybe to blame on the fact that he was still absolutely out of himself.
"Ronan," the dancer repeated with another soft smile. "That's a beautiful name. I'm Peter."
Ronan nodded slightly. He wanted to repeat that name too, taste it on his tongue and his lips, but he couldn't. He was lost in the other man's eyes once more, their beautiful green and grey, which seemed to suck him in completely.
At the Accuser's silence, the dancer – Peter! – smiled a little wider. "Is that all you have to say to me?" he asked. "That you want me and that your name is Ronan?"
Ronan blinked and swallowed again. Of course, that wasn't all he had to say to Peter, but it was all he could say at this moment. He felt like his brain had been emptied out and silenced by his longing, by the beauty and the loveliness that was the man in front of him. But he didn't want to upset or disappoint the dancer, so he forced his mouth to work something out.
"You're beautiful," he managed to state, like a daft idiot. His words made the other male laugh and that sound was even more beautiful than just the soft chuckles.
"I figured you'd think that, considering you said that you want me," he replied, amused. "Which is still a blunt statement, given we have only talked for a couple of minutes."
Ronan only stared at him. Again.
Peter smiled, slightly moving his fingers on Ronan's chest. "I normally don't do this," he claimed, slowly closing his hand around the Kree's shirt. "A lot of people like my dancing, or I wouldn't be called the 'highlight of the night'. And I know that I am good-looking, I have heard that a couple of times already."
Ronan nodded, though he was only half listening. He didn't care much about what others thought about Peter or whether Peter knew how absolutely desirable he was. All he wanted to hear was an answer, an approval. The anticipation and the fear of being declined made him all fidgety once more. He grunted lowly, as that was all he could accomplish.
The sound made Peter chuckle again. "But I think I can make an exception for once," he mused. "I think I will let you have me. Because I really want to have you in return, you know. How does that sound?"
"Wonderful," Ronan voiced his thought out loud. He said it before he could even think it, before the flame in his heart exploded once more into a searing fire of want. He needed this man, no matter what it took. That he had agreed to it was more than Ronan could grasp.
Peter laughed softly and grabbed Ronan's shirt a bit tighter. "Does it?" he asked.
"Yes," Ronan replied.
The smile that now spread over Peter's face was so warm and wide and glowing, and Ronan wanted nothing more than to press his lips against it and breathe it all in.
"Good," the dancer giggled and stepped back, pulling Ronan inside of the room.
The Accuser let the pulling guide him forward and leaned in, finally capturing the other man's lips in a tender but passionate kiss. While Ronan shoved the door shut behind him, Peter let go of the towel and wrapped his now free arm around the Kree's neck.
Peter's lips tasted just as rich and warm as Ronan had anticipated. His beard was scratching and tickling him, but that only made the sweetness of the kiss all the more intense. Peter was still holding onto him with the arm around his neck, the other hand closed tightly around the fabric of Ronan's shirt. The Kree wrapped his own arms around Peter's waist to press their lower bodies together, which gained him a low hum.
Peter's skin was so soft and his body was so firm. Ronan could feel its heat through his clothes, and even though there was a fire burning inside of himself, Peter's warmth still seemed to fulfil Ronan completely.
He pressed Peter's figure tighter against his own and half shoved, half carried him the few steps over to the worn-out bed. Climbing on top of it, he bent forward until Peter's back gently hit the mattress. The dancer immediately took the chance of not having to hold onto him anymore and grabbed Ronan's shirt with both hands at the back to pull it over the Accuser's head.
They had to part for that, but they didn't let a single unnecessary second pass before they joined their lips together again. The hot, slick moving of their tongues with and against each other was like a dance too, and Ronan dove into it fully.
Before he allowed himself to lower down on Peter's calling body, he fumbled with his pants until he could pull them down. But he couldn't get rid of them fully before Peter wrapped his arms around his shoulders and pulled him down impatiently to make their upper bodies touch.
It was like sinking in a tub of hot water. The preternatural heat of Peter washed over Ronan like a wave and embraced him entirely. He felt out of this world, moved into a sphere of pure warmth and light and softness that was so different from the existence he knew. It was like finally coming home after having been on the run for his entire life.
Unable to resist, he ground his pelvis against Peter's in need. The pleasured whimper he got in return made him shudder heavily.
Shaking off his boots, Ronan tore and pulled at his pants once more until they were down so far that he could shake them off completely with the help of his feet. Now he was just as naked as the man beneath him, touching him everywhere, just like he had wished to.
Peter's hands roamed over his body, over his bald head and his broad shoulders, his well-defined back and his sides. They left a prickling trail on his blue skin that was simultaneously soothing and igniting.
Ronan's own hand found its way down Peter's side, to his round buttocks and toned thigh that Peter willingly raised at the touch. The Kree's fingers moved further until they met his own erection, already slick with self-lube and pressing gently against Peter's rear. Still kissing the other man dearly, Ronan ran his fingers along his shaft until they were coated completely, before he carefully shoved one of them inside Peter's tight entrance.
The dancer sighed in bliss. The hotness surrounding Ronan's finger and pressing down on it was almost too much to bear and the Accuser couldn't help but to bite down on Peter's lip to hold back his need.
He had pushed his own lower body up a bit to have better access to Peter's, and Peter pressed his own groin against Ronan's because he didn't want to lose touch with it. Every time Ronan's finger slid out and back in, Peter sighed lowly and ever so slightly moved his hips upwards. The little sounds and the light friction almost drove Ronan insane.
As soon as his finger moved with ease, he slipped a second one inside. Peter moaned lowly and tried to push his pelvis down to meet Ronan's soft thrusts, but Ronan had slung his right arm around the man's waist to hold him close and that prevented him from moving much.
Soon the pleasured sounds of Peter grew louder and vibrated on Ronan's lips and tongue, drawing low grunts from the Kree in return. He couldn't ignore the throbbing of his own cock anymore that wanted to bury itself in the tight heat that his fingers prepared for it, so he let them slip out of Peter's core and grabbed his aching dick to line it up with the dancer's stretched entrance.
An anticipating shiver went through Peter, accompanied by a sharp intake of breath. Ronan held them both pressed against each other and kept their lips sealed, so he was drinking every joyful whimper from the other's mouth as he slowly entered his quivering body.
Before Ronan was even buried inside of him completely, Peter let his head fall back with a gasp and Ronan marvelled at the expression of bliss and pleasure on the other man's features. He watched in fascination every slight contorting of Peter's face, carefully entering him deeper and deeper until he had sunken in to the hilt.
The hot, tight tunnel of Peter's anus stretched for him willingly, yet still was pressing down on his cock in such a delicious way that a shudder ran through Ronan's entire system. He stared at Peter's open mouth and furrowed brows until they slowly relaxed, giving way to a calmer expression. Only then did Ronan begin to move.
It was slow and shallow at first, nothing more than soft rockings of his hip, hardly any motion at all. But Ronan soon pulled out a little further, shoved back in a little harder, and Peter rewarded him with the sweetest little gasps and sighs for this. Ronan couldn't take it, he just had to lean in to kiss the dancer once more and draw those beautiful sounds from his mouth.
Peter's fingers softly clawed at Ronan's back while Ronan's own hands held on tight to both Peter's right ass-cheek and right side where he had his arm still slung around the man's waist to keep their bodies pressed together. Their fronts rubbed against each other with each thrust and Peter's erection brushed against Ronan's stomach. It was heaven.
Their tongues and lips seemed to melt together as their kiss grew more heated and passionate with each second, and Ronan's thrusts, in addition, became more passionate and intense as well. His hips rolled against Peter's backside in a steady and powerful, yet still careful rhythm, matching their excited heartbeats.
Peter gasped and moaned devotedly into Ronan's mouth and Ronan groaned and grunted back, softly licking and nipping at everything he could get a hold of. After a moment he kissed his way down to Peter's neck, which the dancer took as an invitation to lay his head back and expose his throat ever so willingly to his lover. The Accuser bit and kissed the soft skin tenderly, letting Peter's beard scratch over his lips.
At the same time, he took his hand from the other male's buttocks and shoved his left arm underneath his body as well, holding onto him more tightly. Peter's own hands still dug into Ronan's back and his feet were moving against the Kree's legs, trapping them, tracing them, letting go again just to come back a couple of moments later. The moving of their tangled limbs was accompanied by the creaking of the bed and their heavy breathing, their moans and grunts, and the sound of flesh meeting flesh.
Ronan caressed his way down to Peter's chest and collarbone while the dancer let his hand run over the Kree's head, moaning his approval. They were both close to coming; Ronan could feel it in the way Peter rolled his hips up against his thrusts more often and more heavily, could hear it in how his breathing got faster and louder, could tell from the dull pain with which his fingernails scratched Ronan's skin. The hold of his arms and legs became tighter and his moans more throaty and intense. Ronan took that as a sign to increase his speed and force a little.
He lightly nipped at Peter's ear and then pressed his lips against the dancer's cheek before he began to snap his hips against his ass harder and faster, driving his dick deep inside of his core with each move. The man screamed out in pleasure and arched against the Kree's front, writhing in ecstasy and lust.
Only a few more thrusts and he was done, convulsing with a hoarse cry and coming. His walls contracted hard around Ronan's cock and took the Kree along, tumbling over the edge as well with a heavy groan that made him throw his head back. He felt Peter's hot load spill between their sweat-slick fronts, smearing all over their stomachs and chests, and his walls contracting around Ronan's dick so hard that it almost hurt. That sweet pain combined with Peter's relieved and pleasured gasps and sobs, the twitching and shivering of his burning hot body underneath Ronan's, and the way his fingers raked over the Kree's back, were sending Ronan into heights he had never been to before.
He kept on moving against Peter in irregular thrusts, shooting wave after wave of his release inside of him. Apparently, Peter's race was through with their orgasms faster, because the other man went still beneath Ronan after a moment, the spasms of his climax having left his muscles. He was only panting heavily now and still stroking Ronan's back while the Accuser desperately curled his pelvis against Peter's rear to flood it with the last hot spurts of his come.
Finally, he collapsed on Peter with a grunt, burying his face against the man's shoulder and neck. He was still seated deep inside of him, his seed flowing past his shaft to ooze out of Peter's used hole and soak the rumpled sheets beneath them.
Peter kept softly caressing Ronan's back as they both caught their breath and let their bodies cool down from the exhaustion. Ronan revelled in every gentle touch, enjoying each second of the fondling. He deeply regretted that he had to move at one point to let his erection slip out of Peter before it went flaccid.
Peter hummed lowly at the feeling and retreated his arms and legs to allow Ronan to slide beside him on the bed, only half of his bulk still lying on top of Peter now. The Kree didn't want to crush his partner, but still refused to completely forsake the beautiful feeling of having his warm body pressing against him from underneath.
"Mmh, I'm glad I agreed to this," Peter claimed with a smile. His voice sounded a little hoarse from the moaning which made it all the more euphonic."This was really wonderful."
"It gladdens me to hear that," Ronan replied. "It has been truly wonderful for me as well."
Peter's smile widened and he chuckled a little, placing his hand on Ronan's upper arm to caress him once more.
"Good," he said. "That is very good indeed."
They lay like that for a couple more moments, looking at each other fondly. The light-balls painted bright dots into Peter's green eyes and cast soft shadows on his hair and face. Ronan could have looked at him forever and would have felt blessed.
"Will you come back with me to my planet?" he asked after a while. "The thought of leaving you and not having you with me is devastating."
Peter raised his brows but smiled again, his fingers drawing circles on Ronan's bicep.
"Coming with you?" he repeated. "To Hala? After just a few hours spent together? Giving up this absolutely presentable one-room-apartment and a job that has me wash glitter off my feet every night? Are you joking?"
Ronan was pretty sure that he hadn't been joking, but Peter began to laugh after only a moment anyway, which made relief wash over the Kree's yearning heart.
"Of course I am coming with you," he answered and placed his hand on Ronan's cheek. "If not for all eternity, then at least for an adventure and a chance, and a few more of your wonderful kisses."
The words filled Ronan's chest with warmth. His arms wrapped tighter around Peter on their own and pulled him close, his lips chasing the ones of the dancer for a tender kiss.
"Thank you," he murmured and let his fingers run through Peter's damp hair. "I will make the best of any chance you'll grant me."
Once more, a smile spread over Peter's lips as he curled up closer against the Accuser and settled his hand in his neck.
"No need to thank me," he stated. Their lips were so close that they almost touched. "Just let me dance whenever I want to and we're good."
"I'd be a fool if I wouldn't," Ronan replied.
Peter laughed and nodded in amusement, softly squeezing the Kree's neck. "Yes you would," he agreed with a giggle that made Ronan's heart bloom.
With an affectionate little grunt, he pressed the dancer tighter against his body and dove in for yet another sweet kiss. Peter returned it happily, and soon Ronan was lost in the other man's warmth once again.