DISCLAIMER: I do not own any of the characters from Guardians of the Galaxy, either in its movie or comic incarnation. I own any OC I can invent, though. I am not making a £ out of this. It is just for shits and giggles.
Warnings: this chapter contains some politics, some mentions of sexism and some mild intolerance towards unconventional relationships, but mostly sex (M/M).
In response to reviews:
Dear YellowWomanOnTheBrink, I am sorry to disappoint you, but this story was supposed to be smutty from the get go. It just took me a lot of time to get there. There is smut in this chapter, but there is not going to be any for a good while after it (and then there is going to be quite a bit more, if you're patient).
The threesome has been written, but there is a lot of plot to get through before we get there.
In the meantime, plot-wise, I am using some elements of comic-canon about Peter's parentage. IDK what the director and the screenwriters are going to go with, but this suited me better.
Enjoy, and please don't shout at me!
Gamora's comm goes off in the middle of the night, chiming and chirping like a confused bird.
Ronan is closer to the bedside table. He picks it up.
"Who is speaking?" he rasps, trying not to sound like he has just woken up, in case it is a client, but failing miserably.
"It's me, Peter. - Star-Lord replies from the other side - I'm outside the guest house, but the concierge won't let me in. Can you pick me up?" he asks.
"I'll be there in a minute." Ronan declares.
Gamora mutters something, half-asleep, and then briefly surfaces to consciousness.
"It was Star-Lord. - Ronan says, petting her hair gently - I'll be back soon." he adds, disentangling himself from her when she acquiesces.
The Kree slips on his trousers and boots and picks up the key to the room, then slips downstairs, ignoring the pointed look the concierge, an old man this time, gives him for walking around shirtless.
Outside the air is still quite warm and smells like the flowers of the trees that line the street, sweet and fruity, a little bit cloying.
Star-Lord is standing under one of those trees. He looks tired, but his face lights up when he sees the Kree approach him.
A flower drops from the plant onto his head, making him look tremendously cute. Ronan closes the distance and stoops slightly to kiss him. He doesn't care if someone sees them as they embrace under the tree, reassuring each other that it is indeed real.
"Gamora is waiting for us upstairs..." he says when they break the kiss. He feels light-headed from the sheer bliss of being there in Star-Lord's arms openly, without subterfuge.
"We shouldn't keep her waiting." the Terran acquiesces, kissing him again.
"Gods, I can't believe this is real. - he whispers then - It is real, isn't it?" he asks, only half-joking.
"It is. - Ronan reassures him - I love you." he adds, because it is true and he has been burning with the need to say it for far too long.
"I love you too, bluebell. Kind of ever since I stopped wanting to shoot you in the face..." Star-Lord confesses with a lopsided grin, then yawns. He looks quite exhausted.
"We've been waiting long enough, then. - Ronan retorts, grinning too - Come, let's get you into bed." he proposes.
Star-Lord takes his hand and walks at his side without protest, and thankfully the concierge is so flabbergasted that he doesn't even try to stop them, and finally they are all together, as it was supposed to be.
Gamora is still asleep and the two of them try to make the least possible amount of noise as they strip.
Ronan, who was already half-naked to begin with, takes considerably less time than the Terran to finish, so he waits for Star-Lord sitting on the bed and unashamedly looks at him as he struggles with his clothes.
He is as beautiful as Ronan remembers from the bathroom invasion and the beach, possibly more, because this time he is not distracted by guilt or shame as he lets his gaze roam all over him.
He doesn't have to hide, he doesn't have to pretend that it doesn't affect him.
The light of the summer moon that filters from the window makes Star-Lord look like he is made of pale light and soft shadows and... it is too perfect for words.
Star-Lord leaves his clothes in a heap on the floor and joins him on the bed. His hands cup Ronan's face tenderly and he kisses him once more, pressing himself against the Kree as much as possible.
Warm, so warm...
Ronan finds himself moaning into the kiss and running his hands all over Star-Lord, trying to take in more of that warmth.
They have both grown half-hard just from that, but Ronan for himself doesn't really feel like having sex. He'd rather just lie on the bed as close as possible to the people he loves and just bask in the closeness.
"Let's get some sleep..." Star-Lord proposes softly. He looks radiant, but tired to the bone at the same time.
Ronan acquiesces and they both crawl under the sheets.
Gamora half-wakes again, welcoming them in, and after a bit of negotiations and turning around awkwardly, they settle down.
Gamora is curled in Star-Lord's arms, facing him, and he is spooning against the Terran's back, an arm flung around his waist, so that he is touching Gamora too. He is surrounded by the warmth and the touch of the people he loves, and there is nothing more relaxing.
When sleep takes him, he doesn't try to fight it. He knows he has nothing to fear from nightmares while he is with them.
Ronan wakes up with the sun a few hours later, perfectly happy and restored.
The change in the light makes Gamora stir and in a matter of minutes, she seems wide awake.
Only Star-Lord is still fast asleep, and doesn't even twitch when Gamora leans nearly on top of him to kiss Ronan good morning.
"He is even cuter when he is asleep, don't you think?" she whispers, looking down at the sleeping Terran.
Ronan acquiesces.
He gently ruffles Star-Lord's curls, peripherally noting the difference in texture between his and Gamora's hair, but the most reaction he gets is a mumbled "G'way!".
Gamora chuckles. "Peter is not a morning person. You'll have to get used to it." she advises playfully, then slides off the bed, totally nude and unashamed.
"Come on, let's get breakfast sorted and give him a bit more time to wake." she proposes, bending at the waist to grab her clothes from the floor. Ronan stops in his tracks for a moment, lost in contemplation of her, but even if he is basically staring, she doesn't seem to mind. Upon the contrary, she smiles and bends even lower, giving him a tantalising glimpse of her womanhood.
Ronan curses under his breath and looks away, feeling like his cheeks are burning. When he looks back her way, she has covered herself already. It's a bit of a pity.
"Don't worry, there will be more of this later, but I'm starving now. - Gamora reassures him - Aren't you hungry too?" she asks.
"Yes, I am, actually." Ronan replies after a brief hesitation. Now that he thinks of it, he hasn't eaten anything since breakfast the day before, apart from a slice of vegetable pie he has bought at the market.
"Let's go then. - Gamora exhorts him - You'll se how he'll wake up as soon as he smells the food..." she adds, nodding towards the still-sleeping Star-Lord.
They finish getting dressed and go downstairs, where the landlady is waiting for them with a big scowl on her face.
"My husband told me that you brought a third guest in, last night." she accuses.
"It is true, it was our boyfriend. - Gamora replies confrontationally - When we took the room we told you that there were going to be three of us." she adds, crossing her arms on her chest.
The woman scowls even deeper and mutters something under her breath.
Ronan has the distinct impression that she is passing judgement on their romantic arrangements. He doesn't like the idea.
"You told me no such thing. - the landlady insists - If you had told me, I would have written it down in the register! And I would have charged you more, rest assured!" she declares, listing extra costs like a sojourn tax, an extra charge per person, and an extra breakfast. Ronan is quite sure that hidden somewhere in there lays also a "morality tax" that the woman is charging on top of everything because their newfound three-way relationship doesn't conform to her moral standards.
Quite fed up with her whinging, Ronan grabs the rest of the cash from his winnings, counts out a more than decent amount of money, surely more than what the extra costs might amount to, and shoves it into the woman's hands.
"This should cover all your costs and inconveniences. - he declares stiffly - Now we would like some breakfast, if you please." he adds, and the woman has no other choice than to show them into a small room to one side of the entrance, where a breakfast buffet has been laid out.
They pick up a pair of trays and grab coffee for everyone, some fruit and some other items of food that they cannot readily identify, small, sticky biscuits, pastry and other things, and go back to their room.
True to Gamora's word, Star-Lord starts to stir as soon as the smell of food hits him.
"You brought coffee... " he says, still sleepy, as he stretches lazily, giving them a good view of his nicely defined torso
"You know I love you, right?" he adds with a grin.
He slips his trousers on without bothering with underwear and pads to the small table where Ronan and Gamora have laid out their catch.
"This is the best wake-up call ever." he sighs contentedly, letting himself fall into the chair.
They eat their breakfast chatting and laughing and drinking horrible coffee.
"Does anyone mind if I look for some music channel on that?" Star-Lord asks after a while, pointing at the AV comm-set attached to the wall.
"Not at all." Gamora replies. Ronan acquiesces in turn, and Star-Lord swiftly grabs the remote and starts surfing.
They pass lots of sit-coms and sports, then a few news channels.
"Hey, stop there!" Ronan exclaims at a certain point, thinking he has seen something.
"Where, here?" Star-Lord asks, confused. He has gone one channel too far and has now stopped on a Skrull smashball match. It looks slightly gruesome.
"No, go back one channel. - Ronan instructs - There!" he exclaims.
For a moment Star-Lord just blinks at the screen, uncomprehending, then the pieces of the puzzle click into place.
"Jeez! That's the woman who fooled We'al!" he exclaims.
Ronan nods. "Let me introduce to you Princess Helenai, heir to the throne of Spartax." he announces.
"Damn!" Star-Lord exclaims, looking surprised and not in a good way.
Gamora looks at her with close interest.
"She is good-looking. - she says - Another jilted lover out for your blood?" she asks nonchalantly.
"No! I've never seen her before in my life, and I mean, I'm sure I'd remember if I had... - Star-Lord protests - The highest nobility I have ever bedded was the duchess of Gramosia!" he adds as an explanation.
The images on the comm switch from Helenai to an older man, with a leonine mane of burnished golden curls, a trimmed beard and blue, blue eyes set in a handsome face.
"Pama damn me for a fool!" Ronan exclaims, because he has just had an intuition, and if his hunch is correct, things might get very, very complicated.
"What's wrong?!" Star-Lord and Gamora exclaim in almost perfect unison.
"Star-Lord, you said your father was an alien, didn't you?" Ronan asks, thinking furiously and trying to recall what exactly he had studied at the Academy about the Spartoi royal family.
"Yeah, that's what my mum always said. He came from space, and then went back again and left me as a present to her. - he narrates - And then the Xandarians confirmed that I have non-Terran DNA. So what?"
"And your full name is Peter Jason Quill, right?" Ronan continues.
"Yeah, but..." Star-Lord retorts, but the Kree doesn't let him finish.
"That is Emperor J'son of Spartax. - he says, pointing at the screen - Does he remind you of someone?" he teases.
Star-Lord stares at the man on the screen for a long moment, then his hands go to his own face, touching, checking, because it is hard to believe.
"He looks a lot like you, Peter..." Gamora comments, quite shaken.
"You're kidding me, right? - Star-Lord explodes, turning towards Ronan - You are not really telling me that... that guy is my dad?!" he adds.
"We cannot be certain without a proper forensic test, of course, but the timing seems quite right." Ronan replies, using the calm, reasonable tone that his teachers at the Academy had drilled into him as the best to deal with panicky victims or witnesses.
"If I remember correctly, prince J'son was involved in some sort of court scandal and exiled from Spartax some thirty, thirty-five years ago. - he continues - He disappeared for a while, no one could figure out where he was, then suddenly reappeared on Spartax about a year after, cleared his name and was reinstated as heir to the throne. How old are you, Star-Lord?" he asks.
"I... thirty-three." the Terran replies.
"Right, so about thirty-odd years ago, this man vanishes, disappears from the face of the Universe, and almost straight afterwards you are born on an isolated, backwater planet from an allegedly alien father. - Ronan sums up - The likenness is quite impressive, I must say..." he comments, glancing back at the screen, where the Emperor is still doing some sort of proclaim. J'son looks obviously older, and also harsher and grimmer, but anyone who saw them together would immediately peg them for father and son.
"Do you really think that I am... A prince? Me?" Star-Lord protests, pointing at his chest.
"I'd say that the probabilities are in your favour. And even if you are not, you are still a credible decoy. - Ronan replies - That explains why princess Helenai is after your blood." he concludes.
"It doesn't to me. - Gamora intervenes - Even if this was true, Peter is still illegitimate, he can't have a very strong claim on the throne." she objects.
"Actually, he might. - Ronan replies - Spartoi society is very male-dominated, but J'son has no living sons, that he knows of, so Helenai will eventually be the first Emperess ever to sit on the throne of Spartax. Many oppose this and her marriage to Gladiator of Shi'ar. "
"I bet the chauvinists think that, since he is a man, he'll rule in her place." Gamora huffs.
"Precisely. - Ronan confirms - So you understand that if any male heir showed up in these circumstances, he would have the support of large swathes of population and might destabilise the whole Empire, plunging it into civil war."
"And Peter is not just anyone. - Gamora chimes in - You are a war hero, the saviour of Xandar..." she tells Star-Lord.
"This is so not helping, love! - Star-Lord protests - I get it, I am a menace to her claim, and she would very much like to do the whole "Man in the Iron Mask" gig on me, even if I have no interest in reigning or ruling or whatever. So, what do we do now?" he asks.
Ronan frowns at the strange cultural reference, but it doesn't seem the right time and place to ask for explanations.
"I am not sure. Maybe you should contact her, somehow, and explain her the situation. - he proposes - Maybe even agree to support her in public... yes, that might solve it." he adds.
"That's not a bad plan! And it didn't involve smashing any heads! You're getting better!" Star-Lord teases, trying to defuse the tension. Ronan sighs and rolls his eyes. The jokes about smashed heads and big hammers are starting to grow old.
"I know it's a bit indelicate to mention him, but the guy we were banging yesterday, didn't he work at the palace?" Star-Lord asks Gamora.
She nods. "He is some sort of secretary. - she replies - I'll see if he can help us." she offers, and stands to leave.
"You're going now?" Star-Lord asks.
Gamora nods, checking her weapons.
"I'll swing by the Milano first and tell the guys to stay put. - she replies - Then I'll find Yo-laus."
"Well, wait, we are coming with you." both Ronan and Star-Lord protest.
"You are not. - the assassin retorts - The room is paid for until midday. Stay put. Enjoy this while you can." she instructs.
Ronan and Star-Lord exchange a rapid, embarassed glance. It's not like they wouldn't want to, but...
"I am talking seriously, guys. In the off-chance that Helenai's people have already got wind that we are here, the first place they will look for you is the Milano. - she explains - Here, you are less likely to be found, and Ronan will watch your back while I am away." she adds, turning to Star-Lord.
If she leaves them there alone, the Terran's back won't be the only thing he'll be watching, Ronan thinks, stifling an inappropriate giggle.
"Do you want us to move to another bolt-hole after twelve?" he asks instead, hanging to his focus for dear life.
"Have you still got any cash left?" Gamora asks.
Ronan nods. "Enough for a couple of days in a decent place. - he replies, patting the wad of cash in his pocket - Longer in a dump."
"I have some cash too. Non-traceable, from the last job." Star-Lord adds.
Gamora thinks about it for a moment.
"I'll try to get a meeting first, then we'll figure out what to do next. - she decides ultimately - Let's keep comm contact in case things go south. I'll call you around twelve. Call me and make a run for it if you see anything suspicious, alright?" she instructs.
"We can take care of ourselves." Star-Lord protests.
Gamora kisses him long and hard, then does the same to Ronan, silencing their protests.
"I know. - she says - But I don't want to lose you. I want us to have lots and lots more mornings like this..." she adds.
"We'll take care, you have my word." Ronan promises, taking her into his arms for a brief moment.
"I know. I trust you two. - she declares - I'd better go." she adds in a moment and then, with one last brief kiss, disappears out of the room.
"We're stranded, bluebell..." Star-Lord comments after a moment.
"Her plan is sensible." Ronan points out.
"I know... it's just. Well, I don't want her to be in danger. - the Terran retorts - And I am not very good at waiting either. What should we do now?" he asks, giving him a sidelong glance.
"I don't know. - Ronan replies, seeing the bait but deciding to tease Star-Lord, instead - Watch some more CommVid?" he proposes, struggling to keep his face straight.
Star-Lord's dejected expression is priceless, and he can't help but start laughing heartily.
"You were kidding me!" Star-Lord exclaims, indignant.
"And you fell for it." Ronan comments smugly.
Star-Lord pounces. The chair clatters to the ground and they both end up on the floor, kissing like they can't get enough of each other.
Ronan is lying on his back and Star-Lord climbs on top of him. He can feel his hardness pressed against him once more, and this time he knows that they won't have to stop.
"What do you really want to do, bluebell?" Star-Lord rasps as he grinds his own hardness against Ronan's.
"I want to get rid of these bloody clothes. I want to feel you..." the Kree replies, a tiny bit desperate already.
Star-Lord smiles and grinds himself harder, making him groan in pleasure.
"And then?" he whispers, mouthing his partner's neck.
"And then I want to lay in that bed with you..." Ronan continues.
It is not shame that makes him reticent, is that it is already feeling so good... he wants to make it last. Plus Star-Lord is getting quite desperate himself, and he likes the idea.
The Terran bites his neck, however, and again he feels that mixture of pleasure and pain and loss of control... it gets to him, sending flashes of delight deep into him.
He cries out. Suddenly playing with Star-Lord doesn't seem as attractive as just submitting would be.
"And then what, bluebell?" Star-Lord insists, grinding against him.
Ronan has a short flashback to when he saw him and Gamora and with that man. He recalls how Star-Lord was thrusting into him, and how much the man seemed to enjoy it, and a shiver of delight courses through him.
He wants that. He needs it.
"And then I want you to take me... - he gasps - Like... like you were doing with that man..." he adds, hoping that it is not too vague, and that Star-Lord won't make him spell it out.
He knows the technical terms, but he is reluctant to say them, not because he is ashamed of what he wants, far from it, but because they sound so very vulgar for something so heavenly.
"Please..." he adds in a whimper.
Star-Lord curses under his breath and slips his hands under the Kree's hoodie and shirt, frantically trying to bunch them up and tug them off.
Ronan manges to partially sit up and help him, wriggling free of his clothes and letting them fall to the floor.
Star-Lord presses himself as close as he can to him, drowning him in warmth.
Somehow they manage to stand, even as they try to tug each other's trousers off, and when the Terran backs him towards the bed he does not resist.
They end up on the bed, naked, without quite knowing how they got there.
Everything is confused in a haze of wonderful sensations, of warmth and closeness, of kisses and tentative touches. Well, not so tentative from Star-Lord's part...
The Terran seems to know all the spots that make him gasp and shudder, and uses them to perfection, driving him closer and closer to begging for more.
He is going to say the words when Star-Lord's hand finally wraps around his cock, starting to stroke him.
His hands are bigger and rougher than Gamora's and his touch is harder, more demanding and he absolutely loves it.
His own hands slide down Star-Lord's body, pausing just before their target. Ronan manages a moment of lucidity and looks at Star-Lord's face, a question on his lips.
"Yes, please!" Star-Lord exclaims, before he can even speak up.
His face is flushed red and his eyes are darkened with desire. He is the most beautiful thing that Ronan has ever seen.
He lets his hands slide the last bit and the sound the Terran makes when he starts exploring him nearly makes him spill himself on the spot.
Hanging to self-control for dear life, he forces himself to breathe evenly and focus on what he is feeling under his fingertips, on the contrast between the flushed, silken skin and the steely hardness underneath, on the fascinating discovery of the nest of coarse dark golden curls growing around the base of the Terran's cock.
Tentatively, he starts to mimic what Star-Lord is doing to him and he can feel his parter start to falter and halt. He must be doing it right, he thinks smugly.
And then Star-Lord slaps his manhood from side to side with his open palm and he nearly blacks out from the sheer intensity of the sensation. His hands fly to the Terran's shoulders for support. He needs something solid to hold on to, or he'll fall apart.
"Good?" Star-Lord growls into his ear.
Ronan can hardly speak, but he nods frantically.
"Want more?" the Terran asks, his tone sultry and assured. Ronan pulls him into a breathless kiss, tangling his fingers into his hair.
"Please, Star-Lord! Please!" he says, peppering his jaw and neck with kisses and gentle nips, but the only result he gets is to make him pull back with a slight frown.
"My name is Peter. Say it." he orders.
Ronan blinks, trying to clear his head just a fraction.
"Peter..." he whispers, rolling his name on his tongue as if he is trying to taste it.
Star-Lord, no, Peter smiles gently.
"And then...?" he suggests encouragingly.
"Please, Peter..." Ronan tries again, tentatively.
Another pleased smile.
"This is more like it." Peter purrs and suddenly, without warning, his hand moves and slaps him even harder than before.
Ronan cries out and Peter does it again, and again and again.
He loses count of how many times, lost in the feeling, in that undescribable mix of sharp pleasure and subtle pain. It sings through his veins and spills from his lips in desperate cries and pleas. He knows he is babbling in the most undignified manner, cursing, and begging, and professing his love, but he can't control it, and to be honest, he wouldn't want to even if he could.
When Peter stops, he is shuddering uncontrollably. His fingers must have left bruises where they were gripping the Terran's shoulders, but he doesn't seem to care.
"You are amazing..." Peter whispers, gently petting him and helping him calm down at least a bit.
He leans out towards the floor at the side of the bed, where is jacket is lying, and quickly rummages in its pockets.
When he leans back into the Kree's arms there is a small bottle of some viscous liquid in his hands. Ronan knows what it means, and feels himself squirming in delight at the perspective.
Peter looks at him questioningly and this time it is his turn to say yes before he can even speak.
"Turn around for me then." Peter whispers.
Ronan obliges immediately, turning onto his front and spreading his legs. He can feel no shame for that, only anticipation.
Peter's hands caress and knead his back and sides, prolonging the wait. His fingers travel down the length of his back, sending shivers through him then leave his skin, only to reappear at his ankles. They trace upwards slowly, so very slowly, making him squirm in delight and impatience, until, finally, they reach the cleft between his buttocks, gliding there with the gentlest touch. Ronan bites back a curse nonetheless.
He hears a chuckle at his back and then Peter grabs a handful of his ass with each hand and spreads him further. Something wet and squirming probes against his entrance. It feels strange and heavenly and he bites his lip and balls his hands into the bedsheets to prevent himself from reacting too strongly to it. He wants it to last, but he can't help the way his back arches and the strangled moan that escapes him. It is too good.
His eyes are closed and his face is pressed into the bed. He doesn't dare turning to look, but he feels when something cool and oily starts dripping onto his cleft and down to his balls. Clever fingers start to rub the oil into his skin, massaging and pressing there, more and more insistent, and he can barely restrain himself from pressing back into his touch. This is not just about him, and if his partner wants to take his time, because maybe he is enjoying himself doing those things to him, then he'll wait. He has waited so very long for this, he can give Peter a few minutes more, he tells himself.
Finally Peter's finger breaches him.
It burns slightly, not quite with pain but almost there, and at the same time it feels better than almost anything he's ever felt before, and when he forces himself to relax around the intrusion, the discomfort fades almost immediately, leaving only pleasure in its wake.
"Oh, mery! - he exclaims, starting to revert to High Kree - It feels..."
"You've seen nothing yet, bluebell..." Peter purrs, slipping another finger in.
It is sudden and Ronan feels himself tensing up once more, and the pain returns, making him instinctively try to pull away with a hiss.
"Sorry... I'm sorry..." Peter whispers, distracting him by planting sweet, soft kisses along his spine.
His free hand slips down, to tease his inner tighs and then reaches around his body, to stroke him gently in time with the pull and push of his fingers inside him. Under that double onslaught, he cannot tell what feels better. The only thing he knows is that he cannot get enough of it, he wants more and desperately try to find some leverage to push back against his partner, but Peter is all but lying on top of him... and then suddenly he is not and Ronan can rise to his hands and knees and help Peter take him apart.
Nimble fingers stretch him, scissoring and curling inside him, hitting one spot that makes stars appear under his closed eyelids and he is moaning with every touch, dignity all but forgotten, so lost in the feeling that when Peter slips a third finger in, he doesn't feel any pain. He just wants it, he wants him.
"Pama have mercy, Peter! Do it! Just do it! Please..." he exclaims. He promised to himself that he would wait, but he can't wait any longer. He is already close and he wants to come with Peter inside him.
"I love to hear you say please..." the Terran purrs and curls his fingers once more, making him gasp in delight once more before withdrawing.
Ronan hears the bottle of oil being uncorked again and this time he turns, just in time to watch Peter apply more oil to his manhood with slow, lazy strokes.
A short, whispered prayer escapes his lips, because, damn, for all the mistakes he made, he knows doesn't deserve this, but he is so very grateful for having it, for having Peter, and Gamora, for having a second chance at love and friendship.
Peter lines up his hips with Ronan's and starts to press in, and it becomes incredibly hard to think straight.
It catches a bit on the way in, and it burns uncomfortably, but Ronan bites his lip to prevent himself from making noise and holds out, willing himself not to fight against it, but just to breathe, in and out, in and out... Gradually the discomfort vanishes and Peter slips inside him fully, scalding hot, and thick, and throbbing. He feels stretched to the limit, and it feels amazingly intimate and intense.
"Gods, I've wanted this for so long..." Peter sighs, pressing his forehead against the Kree's shoulders.
Ronan turns his head and twists, and, somehow, they end up kissing. The shift in position presses Peter's cock against some hidden place inside him and he can't help but whimper into the kiss.
"Move! Please, move for me, Peter..." he gasps, pleasure coursing through his veins like the headiest battle-rush.
"Oh, gods!" Peter growls, and pulls out almost completely before thrusting back in hard, his hands scrabbling on the Kree's hip and shoulder to keep that sharp, delightful angle.
Ronan cries out, over and over in time with his hard, unforgiving thrusts, lost to anything that is not Peter, the weight of him at his back, his gasping breaths, his warmth.
"I love you, Peter Quill... - he gasps, balling his fists in the bedsheets so hard that he fears he is going to tear them - You make me feel... oh, Pama! you make me feel alive..." he says through gritted teeth as the Terran's hand reaches for his cock again. Sex definitely loosens his tongue, but like Gamora the night before, Peter doesn't seem to mind. If anything, his thrusts become harder and more frantic.
Probably he'll have some trouble sitting down later, but he finds the idea not troubling at all. He likes carrying Peter's marks on himself.
"I am yours... - he gasps - Oh, Peter, I'm so close..." he confesses, feeling something shift inside him.
Peter growls and pulls away, leaving him gasping and trembling, bereft of his warmth. He can be a cruel master, Ronan thinks for a moment.
"Turn! - Peter orders - On your back!" he says, pushing the Kree to the bed so that he is looking up at him.
They kiss again, almost trying to devour each other, and Ronan feels that Peter is trembling too from how close he is to his own peak.
"Why did you stop?" he asks between kisses.
"Because I want to watch you as you fall apart..." the Terran replies, lining himself up once more and sinking into him to the hilt in one smooth, powerful push.
Ronan arches on the bed and wraps his legs around Peter's waist. His mouth falls open, but he is too breathless to even cry out.
"Oh, it's so good... mery, I..." he gasps when Peter relents and he regains some breath, but the respite was illusory. His partner has stopped just to lift his legs over his shoulders, making the angle even sharper, and when he starts thrusting again Ronan knows that this will be it. He has no chance of resisting.
"I'm not going to last a moment, like this..." he manages to warn.
"Don't fight it... - Peter grunts, pausing for breath - Just let go. I'll be right behind you..." he promises, and there is so much heat, and so much love in his words and on his face...
Peter starts moving again, and Ronan can feel his climax approaching like a wave and this time there is no turning back. One thrust, and one more, and it rolls him right over, making him almost black out as his whole body clenches and he spills all over himself.
Peter roars in pleasure, and he surfaces enough to see him arch, muscles tense all over his frame and head thrown back, as he spills inside him, and he is beautiful, so beautiful... his prince, his master, his best friend... his lover now... his...
He wishes that there was a way of freezing that moment in time and keeping it intact forever.