Chapter 3: Courage Does Not Always Roar
Peter clears his throat and coughs as he inhales more of the dust sifting through the air. "All of Xandar is shitting their pants because of you. You've won so let's fuck. Are you an exhibitionist? Wanna screw me on Nova Prime's desk and give her a show? We can do that but lets go find a private place so we can practice first. Xandar will still be right where you left it and the Nova Corps will still be in pieces."
As he talks, Peter rises to his knees and walks his fingers slowly up Ronan's leg, under the hem of the skirt thing, trailing his nails along the stiff fabric covering the larger male's thigh teasingly. Peter feels ridiculous -and desperate- but he continues anyway, trying to look as sexy as possible as he holds the Kree's gaze. The Terran plasters himself against one long leg and hangs on tightly as his fingers brush the seam of rough material at the apex of Ronan's legs, expecting the other to be startled and unwilling to be kicked. The Kree jumps in surprise but the anger that flashes across his face quickly bleeds away as Peter gives up being subtle and becomes more and more aggressive. The material is tight with very little give but Peter's fingers stroke and fondle Ronan's cock until it swells to full size and the Kree is practically humping Peter's hand.
Peter feels quite proud of the near strangled sound Ronan makes in response when he pulls his hand away.
"Do you know what a blow job is?" The Terran asks, making his voice low and husky. He's been told its quite the turn on by several ladies and hopes it will have the same panty dropping effect on Ronan. "It's not as good as real intercourse but a very nice place to start for beginners."
Peter starts tracing random patters against the Kree's inner thigh and rises up to mouth at the limp fingers within reach. He latches onto one and draws it into his mouth, circling it with his tongue until Ronan's chest is heaving, his eyes wild as he stares down at Peter. The Terran pulls free with a deliberately slow caress of his tongue. "Feel good? It's a lot like that, just here instead."
Peter palms Ronan's erection pointedly and gives it a squeeze before withdrawing.
The hand in his hair is not altogether unexpected but the harshness of it as he's hauled to his feet is. Peter makes a pained noise but it's quickly swallowed by Ronan as the Kree crushes his mouth to the Terran's and Peter has to yield or risk cutting his lips on Ronan's teeth. Peter thrusts his tongue past the other's lips, licking, exploring, inviting, and the hand leaves his hair to circle around his back, crushing him against the larger male. The Terran pulls back with a nip to the Kree's lower lip but Ronan chases after him, bending from the waist to do it and inadvertently causing Peter to stumble when the other shifts to keep his feet. This leads to more stumbling as the pair try not to trip over each other's feet and maintain their balance while still kissing because Ronan refuses to allow Peter to separate. It's funny and Peter is laughing through his nose before he can help it, finally managing to get his feet under him only to find that they have swapped places in stance with one another. Ronan pulls back a bit when he feels Peter smile, flashes a pleased grin of his own and then makes the Terran moan by attacking the slim column of Peter's throat.
Everything is going well so of course that's when things have to get complicated.
"Bedroom!" Peter demands suddenly, panting and pushing at Ronan's shoulders to get the bigger male to walk. It's like trying to move a blue, living mountain so the Kree doesn't budge an inch which is just insulting. "Or a plush carpet! Or a clean couch! I'm not picky but we're not fucking on this floor!"
Ronan responds by hooking an arm under Peter's bottom and lifting the Terran up as if he weighs nothing at all. It startles a yip out of Peter who instinctively wraps his legs and arms around the Kree to keep from falling.
"This is better." The Accuser states, hefting Peter experimentally when the Terran loosens his tight hold and places his smaller hands on Ronan's broad shoulders. The new position enables Peter to look down at the other and after a confused moment, the Terran smiles in a predatory fashion.
"It is." Peter purrs as he cups Ronan's jaw and places a light kiss on the other's lips. His thumbs tease over the black war paint decorating the Kree's face, expecting the substance to be wet and smear but instead its dry and stiff, adhering to Ronan's skin as if its been there all the Kree's life. For all Peter knows, that may just be the case and he brings his attention back to the matter at hand- bedding the Kree in his arms. "I take it you have a place in mind?"
The Kree tilts his head up slightly, an implicit request because they both know Ronan is too proud to ever beg. Peter has never been one to enjoy groveling and feels a pang of familiar sadness. No other species seems to be as tactile as Terrans and its something that Peter had had to figure out after he was abducted. Once he was old enough, however, Yondu had ensured that Peter had had all the physical companionship he could handle.
The Terran mentally shoves the thought away and busies himself by nibbling on a dark blue lip until Ronan's breathing speeds up.
No one should have to beg for a kiss or a hug or a cuddle and Peter showers as much tactile comfort as he can on the Kree.
"Make sure the ship doesn't crash first, okay?" Peter will be Ronan's first and quite possibly last lover, and the Terran wants to make sure that the experience is everything love making is supposed to be- or at least can be given the circumstances- but that doesn't mean he has any desire to be in the middle of a fiery crash while doing so. Peter also knows that once he leaves this room with Ronan, he has essentially signed his own death warrant but, in his peripheral vision he can see Drax starting to stir, has seen flashes of green skin and creeping masses of branches moving amongst the debris in the room. Distracting Ronan may cost Peter his life but it also could buy his team- the people he owes for willingly following him into such an impossible situation- the precious time they need to get to safety.
It's a gamble but its one worth taking if he can save everyone.
Eyebrows arched, Peter hooks his ankles behind the Kree's back and links his hands behind Ronan's head as the Kree walks to a panel on the wall to type in a command. The low rumbling hum of the engine quiets slightly and Peter's inner ear tells him that the ship has stopped its descent. Ronan types another command into the keyboard and, arching an eyebrow of his own, looks at Peter expectantly.
The Terran rolls his eyes but smiles and asks in a tone that clearly implies he knows the other is waiting for acknowledgement over an achievement of some sort. "What did you do?"
"I have increased the shields so that we will not be shot during our pleasure taking." Ronan states in a neutral tone. He could almost be talking about the weather until he smiles shyly up at Peter, ruining the effect. "Since being shot would be 'un-cool.'"
The Terran laughs at having his own words thrown back at him, claims Ronan's mouth again and then there's no more talking, just lips and tongues and hands and moans as they move away from the Command Center. The Accuser's gait is a bit unsteady as they move deeper into the Dark Aster's interior and Peter's back bumps into a wall more than once but eventually they end up in a room with an immaculately made bed that Peter plans to make as messy as possible.
Unfortunately, before the clothes can come off, the weapons must first since they're both armed to the teeth. Peter's never been one for neatness and his blasters and odds and ends are durable enough to survive being dumped on the floor but treating Ronan's world destroying hammer thing the same way seems like a Very Bad Idea. The issue is solved, however, by a convenient shelf situated within grabbing distance of the bed. Setting the Terran down, Ronan places his hammer carefully on it and Peter does the same with his pair of blasters, a knife or two (or four), a single pistol, a stun gun and a small smaller male shrugs as Ronan stares at the collection from Peter's pockets.
"What? We can't all be mighty Kree warriors." Peter bites the inside of his cheek and valiantly refrains from commenting when, seconds later, the larger male pulls two wickedly curved blades from his boots to add to the pile.
There's an awkward moment after that where they both are hesitant to initiate physical contact now that they're more clear headed. But then Peter thinks, Fuck it, and pounces on Ronan, practically climbing up the startled Kree and tugging at the stupid cowl thing until it gives and Ronan's bald head gleams from the rooms's recessed lights. To his credit, the larger male doesn't hurl Peter away; instead Ronan accepts the squirming Terran's additional weight like a champion, wraps his arms around Peter's hips and shifts them both so the Kree can sit on the bed with Peter straddling his lap while the smaller male attacks the heavy armor fastenings.
"How'd you even get in this thing?" Peter exclaims, rising up on his knees and pulling at the breast plate. "Dunk yourself in lube then squeeze in?"
Infuriatingly, even though he's using all his upper body strength, the damn thing doesn't budge an inch. Neither does the Kree wearing it for that matter. Peter gives another heave then admits defeat for the time being as he folds his arms and stares at the garment intently looking for a seam he can exploit. Ronan watches him curiously for a moment then silently reaches up to clasp something behind his neck and Peter hears the muffled sound of metal against metal. The carapace immediately loosens, slitting up the sides so that when Ronan abruptly rolls them over, all the Kree has to do to remove his armor is just pull it over his head.
"Oh, that is so not fair!" Peter complains indignantly to the Kree smirking above him even as the Terran toes off his own boots and his hands start pulling at Ronan's pants. "Wait, so you just let me-mphf!"
The Kree pulls back from the sudden kiss enough to put his forehead against Peter's and stare into the Terran's green eyes. "You talk incessantly. Is it necessary for our impending union or may we resume kissing instead?"
"Kisses're good." Peter agrees after a moment of fighting with himself to not smile. "I like kisses."
"Excellent." Ronan straightens up enough to remove his undershirt and let it fall to the floor before returning to hold himself above Peter's smaller frame. "I enjoy kisses as well and would like to kiss you other places. And touch you. And taste you."
And hello- that certainly brings to mind all sorts of interpretations that make Peter shudder and squirm as he fumbles with suddenly clumsy fingers at his own clothing. If this continues, Ronan's inadvertent brand of blunt sexy cuteness is going to make Peter embarrass himself horribly.
"I'm ok with touching, too, but you're gonna need to define 'taste.'" Peter huffs as he fights to shimmy out of his tight pants and not kick the Kree in the groin since Ronan keeps ducking in and stealing kisses at odd moments now that the Terran is preoccupied. It's almost like Ronan cannot help butempty touch whatever skin the Terran reveals and Peter blushes under the attention, feeling his own skin hunger flare. "I grew up on a ship where being eaten was a very real threat."
Notes: Does anyone know what House Ronan is from? I've been poking around trying to find any info on Ronan's family (names of mother and father, manner of their death, his family name, why his House has an issue with House Fiyero, the Kree culture and language- you know, small stuff) and have come up largely empty. As such, there will be a lot of world building later on and if anyone has any info, dear God, please share! If anyone is linguistically inclined, I'm also creating a Kree dialect and if you have an idea for a word/concept and want to share, please do so! Thank you all for reading!