Request for owenslilecho. Written to
the following tracks from the ‘Star Lord Love Songs’
playlist: Come and Get Your Love (Redbone), Crazy In Love
(Beyonce), Yayo (Lana del Rey).
Redbone’s ‘Come And Get Your
Love’ blared through the ship, courtesy of the new sound system
(and iPod) you had convinced Peter to allow you to install. The song
was a little too ‘old school’ for you, but you liked it anyway.
You were dancing with Peter Quill. It
had started out as silly fun after a drink or two – you’d started
metres away from each other, and then ended up dancing together.
You weren’t exactly dancing in what
your mother would have called a ‘civilised’ manner, either. In
fact, you were pretty sure she would disown you if she could see you.
You were practically grinding your butt against his crotch, his hands
He turned you around, passing it off as
a little spin. You looped your arms around his neck, continuing to
sway to the music.
If you were reading this situation
right, you were pretty certain that the tension in the room could be
cut with a knife.
“You have a very nice face,” you
“Thanks,” he replied, “but I
think it would look nicer between your thighs.”
“You heard me.” he smirked.
“Real smooth, Quill.” You rolled
your eyes, “is that how you normally get a girl into bed?”
“Well… sometimes. Though, to be
honest, I have absolutely no intention of making it to my bed.” He
winked at you.
Oh, lord. You knew where this was going
to go, and the idea excited you. After weeks of subtle flirtation and
dirty remarks, you were finally going to cave in.
“The floor doesn’t exactly look
comfortable, though,” you say, playing coy.
“I really wasn’t thinking about the
floor,” Peter informs you, and before you can form a decent reply,
he has you against the wall. As your back hits the wall, the song
ends, changing to one of your more ‘modern’ songs.
“Gotcha.” Peter says in a low voice
before his mouth meets yours. The kiss is passionate – deep,
hungry, and sensual. His tongue dances with yours, seeking dominance.
One of his hands pins your wrists above
your head, the other roams your body, finally gripping your waist.
His lips leave yours; he leaves a trail
of kisses and little bites down your neck, nipping at your
collarbone. He releases your wrists and unbuttons your blouse.
You gasp as he leaves tiny lovebites on
your breasts, licking and sucking your nipples. You arch your back
into him, sighing his name.
His mouth returns to yours as he yanks
your panties down, leaving your skirt on.
The kiss becomes sloppy and
uncoordinated as he unbuttons his pants and pulls out his cock. You
reach down to touch him, entirely unsurprised that he’s just as big
as he’s claimed to be.
How the hell is that going to fit
inside me? You wonder briefly.
That thought vanishes when his fingers
slowly begin to work their magic on your clit, then inside you. You
begin to tremble as he works you closer and closer to your climax.
Just as you get close, though, he
removes his fingers.
You let out a little whine of
disappointment, which is replaced with a drawn out moan as he slides
into you slowly, so as not to hurt you. You wrap your legs around his
waist, pulling him deeper inside you.
He starts out slow at first, gentle,
shallow thrusts that still manage to be unbearably sensual and
pleasurable, especially when combined with the little kisses he
plants up your neck.
“Oh, god, Peter…” you whimper,
“that feels so good…”
“Tell me what you want, baby,” he
murmurs in your ear.
“I want you to fuck me…” you say.
“I can’t hear you…” he teases.
“Harder, Peter… fuck me harder!”
You moan, and he complies, thrusting deeper and harder.
Your nails rake up his back, under his
shirt, and the room is filled with your little moans and gasps,
almost loud enough to hear over the music.
“You are so fucking beautiful,”
Peter groans in your ear as you reach your climax.
You moan his name as you reach your
high, trembling as you ride it out.
He continues to pound into you until
you feel his whole body tense, feel his cock twitch inside you.
“Cum for me, Peter,” you whisper
into his ear, stroking his sweat-slicked hair and kissing his neck.
He does; it’s a beautiful sight. He
groans and curses and you’re filled with the warmth of his release.
“Fuck.” He groans as he
carries you to the couch.
You both collapse onto it, still
tangled in each other’s arms.
“Well,” he says after he’s caught
his breath, “I suppose now’s a good time as any to ask if you
wanted to go get some dinner later?”
“Like a date?”
“Exactly like a date.”
“I’d love to.”