He realizes that it is the wrong thing to say almost immediately as Ronan withdraws enough so that he can look down at Peter fully. He seems to be waiting for a punchline but as the silence drags on and is broken only by the occasional grunt from the Terran as he fights to shed his clothes, the Kree frowns. The larger male opens his mouth to undoubtably pursue the matter but Peter shuts him up by wrapping his legs around Ronan's hips and rolling them both until the Kree's back hits the bed.

"Shut up and fuck me." It's nearly a snarl as Peter rears up on his knees and crawls off the bed. The Terran pulls the other's boots off and then pulls and tugs at the other's pants until the Kree obediently manipulates his lower body so the fabric slides right off narrow blue hips. Feeling almost feral, Peter takes great pleasure in hurling it away and Ronan voluntarily strips off his underwear before the Terran can do so. Peter sheds his own shirt and undergarments and then, finally, the pair are as naked as the day they were born.

Bluebell. The Terran thinks before he can stop himself as his eyes take in the sight of the Kree's body. God- Peter can practically see his mom sitting on the porch steps of their home, fingers lost in a patch of the blue bell-shaped flowers, her expression bittersweet and voice faintly resigned as she quietly says, "Love is forgetful, Peter- it keeps no record of wrongs."

He remembers that he'd hugged her as tightly as he could, his child self recognizing pain and trying to ease it even if he didn't understand the reason behind it. Peter remembers repeating the action a lot in the days that followed and though he'd made her smile, made her laugh, he'd never been able to chase whatever haunted her away completely no matter how hard he tried. Then one day she'd dropped unconscious to the floor without warning and he'd found out that all the hugs in the world couldn't help his mother get better.

If he ever meets the man who sired him, Peter decides, he's knocking the bastard's teeth in because its only now, with the aid of time and distance and his own adulthood, that he realizes how fucking lonely his mother must have been while stuck in that tiny Colorado town filled with tiny minded people.

It reminds him of Xandar, now that he thinks of it, and with that realization he forces himself to take a breath and push the memory into the back of his mind where it can do no more harm. Peter will deal with it later- much later when he's alone and terribly, terribly drunk- because this is the epitome of bad timing and thinking about his mother is not conducive for getting laid.

"Oh, baby, you are gorgeous." Peter purrs as he takes another breath and simply looks at the Kree, appreciating the other male's body for the picture of form and function that it is. Aristocrat by birth, there is no mistaking Ronan as any thing other than a professional soldier, one who takes care of his body not to indulge his vanity but because his physical condition is what keeps him alive. Ronan's skin is the perfect shade of cornflower blue shot through with cobalt in delicate lines where the blood vessels come close to the surface. His groin, unsurprisingly, is almost entirely navy but there's an indigo sheen to it that creates a marbling effect along the shaft and crown that's almost hypnotic. Even only partially erect, Ronan is already as long as Peter's hand and thicker than two of the Terran's fingers and Peter abruptly realizes that they are facing a square peg in a round hole situation if he can't find some thick lubricant.

"Ronan, sweetie, can you scoot forward a bit?" Peter asks approaching the bed and kneeling between the Kree's long legs. Ronan complies looking a bit anxious and Peter understands because he has the same issue any time any thing gets close enough to potentially harm his junk. The Terran shifts his attention to Ronan's knee instead, kissing it lightly before moving along Ronan's inner thigh in a deliberate trail, his tongue darting out occasionally because the Kree is so sensitive to touch that the added lick makes him jump. Peter wraps his hands around the limb to keep it still and lavishes attention on the skin, mapping the musculature with his tongue on first one leg and then the other, enjoying making Ronan squirm until finally the Terran is ready to tackle his primary goal.

The Kree's eyes are wide, the pupils dilated from desire and his expression is one of hungry anticipation. Peter raises his head and bats his lashes and inwardly smiles when Ronan swoops down to kiss him, using lips and tongue so enthusiastically that the Terran is breathless when they separate. When Peter can breathe again he shudders, feeling his blood warm and pool in his groin, feels his own lust burn hotter as he braces his hands on the Kree's hips, leaning forward to wrap his mouth around the head of Ronan's cock.

The taste of blueberries bursts across his tongue as he dips it into the crown's slit and Peter nearly chokes in surprise. Recovering, he sucks gently then with increasing force when the Kree moans, one broad hand hesitantly splaying across Peter's shoulder as the other carefully tangles in the Terran's hair. Peter makes a noise of approval and gives Ronan's hips a squeeze before repositioning his hands, one circling the base of Ronan's cock as the other circles Peter's own. Settled, Ronan's appreciative moans echoing in his ears, Peter goes to town, jerking himself off as he concentrates on coating the Kree's penis with as much saliva as possible, gradually taking Ronan further down his throat and using his hand to coat what he can't take.

It's a sloppy and messy process, and one that has to be put on hold when Peter orgasms first. He manages to pull off in time to avoid injuring Ronan and cups his hand to catch his release as he rides out his peak with his face pressed into the Kree's thigh, expression slack and content as Ronan hesitantly pets his hair.

"Are you alright?" The Kree asks, cupping Peter's jaw and tilting the smaller male's face up. Peter blinks rapidly as he nods, rousing enough to smile at the other. He's not tired; on the contrary, he feels buzzed- elated, even- as if someone has injected the best opiates in the universe into his blood stream. The Terran licks his lips and milks his cock until it's limp then smears the mess over his fingers before moving his hand so that he can begin loosening himself for penetration.

"Fine, fine." Peter assures him then ruins it by grimacing as the first finger slips in. "Well, I will be once this part's over. I'll be even better once I'm riding you. Do you know what your rebound time is?"

Ronan's expression is blank and he blinks at Peter uncomprehendingly. The Terran uses his free hand to pat the Kree's thigh comfortingly.

"Never mind, we'll find out together." Peter grins and mouths at Ronan's erection, licking at the soft skin, working his way back to the crown and using his tongue to tease the sensitive glands. Ronan's eyes roll back as he moans appreciatively and shudders above Peter when the Terran engulfs the length again, carefully working it down his throat as far as he safely can. Then Peter hums-

-and quickly has to withdraw because the Kree shouts, hips bucking in response, and nearly chokes the Terran in the process.

Peter coughs so hard he has to use Ronan's knee for support as the mattress quakes under a shift in weight. Looking up reveals that Ronan has collapsed onto his back limp as an overcooked noodle except for his erection which appears to have doubled in length and is standing proudly like some sort of monument to Peter's sexual prowess. Finally getting his breath back, the Terran smiles at his accomplishment then frowns, feeling something warm oozing down his cheek, his chest, and even his back. Scooping some of the substance onto his finger, Peter eyes the golden syrup he's covered in and gives it an experimental lick.

"I have the worst craving for pancakes right now." Peter says conversationally, then sucks in a breath as he slips a second finger in, scissoring them roughly and willing himself to relax around the intrusion. The Terran licks golden, blueberry flavored ooze from his other hand for a distraction and slips a third finger in.

"Please do not do that again." Ronan says, rousing enough to raise his head off the mattress and look around his penis at Peter who only grins in response. "I do not know what that was but please do not cause it again."

"Sure." Peter readily agrees, inwardly laughing at the Kree because, holy shit, is Ronan in for a surprise. The Terran thinks he's finally ready to take the other's length completely and carefully wipes his hands and face clean on the sheets as he speaks. "But I think you just had your first orgasm and if you didn't like it then we're gonna need a new activity. Do you have any board games? Cards, maybe?"

"That is an orgasm?" The Kree's head hits the mattress again and a hand comes up to cover his eyes. Peter nods, crawling up the other's body and watching in satisfaction as Ronan's cock practically strains toward him, golden fluid seeping thickly from the tip and dribbling down to coat it to the root. The Terran places his palms on Ronan's chest and straddles the Kree's narrow hips, rising up onto his knees before lowering his body down onto the tapered crown.

Eyes wide, half rising, Ronan makes a strangled sound and his hands shoot up to grip Peter's hips- to prevent or encourage the Terran doesn't know or care because it's too late to stop now as the Kree breaches Peter's body. Ronan's eyes roll back, his grip tightening enough to leave bruises, and Peter shudders as he sinks downward until their bodies are fully wedded together./p

Its then that the Terran realizes the Kree's cock is no longer as smooth as his own; Ronan's penis suddenly has ridges and nodules up and down the shaft that weren't there prior to his climax. Uncomfortable, Peter lets out a low moan between clenched teeth, hips shifting and twisting in jerky movements to get away from the intrusion because its too much. Even as pleasure rockets up his spine because Ronan's cock is rubbing all the right places inside him, Peter feels painfully stretched. His spine bows, his chest heaves, and little whining sounds escape from between his lips.

He feels rather than sees Ronan sit up. Hands ease up Peter's back, alternately kneading the tense muscles along his spine and rubbing roughly against his sweaty skin. Lips skim his ear on their way down to nuzzle at the join of Peter's neck and shoulder, planting soft kisses as the Terran tries to relax so the fun can start. Peter can feel Ronan's muscles trembling from fighting the urge to begin thrusting into Peter's tight heat and he shows his gratitude with little kisses of his own to the upper swell of the Kree's chest, the closest skin he can reach with his forehead resting on Ronan's shoulder.

"Ok," Peter said, voice a bit shaky from pain and pleasure and things that he'd really rather not think about right now. "Ok." Bracing his hands against Ronan's shoulders, the Terran eases back into a sitting position and lets his legs on either side of the Kree's hips take his weight again. He can feel the other shift inside him, the pleasure competing with the burn of the shifting angle, but Peter concentrates on his breathing until he can look up at the Kree.

Impatience, doubt, and eagerness war for dominance of Ronan's expression and it makes Peter huff a laugh as he pulls the other down for a kiss, swallowing the Kree's noise of surprise when the Terran begins to move his hips when their lips meet. The motions are shallow little thrusts at first but became deeper, more sure as pleasure outweighs pain and Peter slowly figures out how to ride the Kree without causing serious injury to himself. It's a balance between pain and pleasure since Ronan's size and length alone are more than Peter's body can handle even if the odd ridges and bumps hit places inside the Terran that seem to have a direct line to the pleasure centers of his brain. When Peter starts making noises of his own for the Kree to swallow he has no idea if they are ones of ecstasy or agony.

It doesn't matter- he has to make this work regardless and so the Terran sucks up the pain and puts on a show.

"Lay back, baby," Peter pants, giving Ronan his sexiest smile and watching those pretty lavender eyes cross as the Terran slowly moves his hips upward in a slow clockwise motion, the Kree's grip on his hips tightening enough that Peter can hear his hipbones creaking in protest. "Just enjoy the ride and let me do all the work."

Peter pats at the larger male's hands for emphasis until Ronan relaxes his grip and lays back on the bed, expression wary as he watches Peter begin to lower himself back down into the Kree's lap. Ronan hisses, eyes fluttering with pleasure as his hips rise up to meet Peter half way, the Terran's back arching slightly with a low moan. It takes a bit longer but they find a rhythm, the tempo interrupted periodically as Ronan has mini-orgasms that do nothing to soften the Kree's erection and makes the Terran feel incredibly full due only in part to the Kree's release. Each time Ronan peaks, the irregular design of the Kree's penis becomes more pronounced and though it makes the pleasure sharper, it is becoming a growing concern as to what will happen when Peter finally coaxes the larger male into full blown climax. As Ronan pants for breath, Peter rises up on his knees until just the tip of the Kree's arousal remains inside him simply to make sure that they can in fact separate.

The universe is a very big, very weird place and not every species of intelligent life goes about sexual reproduction like Terrans do. Kraglin had scarred Peter with tales of spines and barbs and male pregnancy that had had the young Terran fleeing in terror. When he'd found out, Yondu had dragged Peter's skinny ass back to Kraglin's room and thrown him in with the command to shut the fuck up and learn this shit so that Peter could finally be fucking useful. Kraglin had been smug for the rest of the conversation about the Terran's new role in the Ravagers and Peter had felt something shatter inside him.

He feels the echo of the sensation as he lets Ronan pull his hips back down, every ridge and bump along the Kree's length rubbing against all the places that make Peter's testicles pull tight against his body as orgasm looms. He's glad of the physical stimulation, knowing that it will keep the illusion going that he's having a good time even as his mind disconnects emotionally from the affair. He's on autopilot, making all the right sounds, all the right moves, being what he needs to be to finish his task and slink away into the night like the thief he is with no one the wiser. It's just another job; he's the distraction while the others sneak in and do whatever Yondu tells them. When it's over, Peter will make a narrow escape and limp back, clean himself up and have to be ready to do it all over again because that's what keeps him from being useless.

There was no dead weight among the Ravagers because they didn't have the resources to waste on anyone Yondu deemed unusable. What was useless met a bad end, either as space debris, by being left planet side, or even worse depending on the Eclector's location at the time.

Yondu had made sure Peter was very, very useful.

It was just sex after all; not like anyone cared about it. That whole Terran idea about first times being special and romantic or whatever? Complete bullshit on a universal scale. Sex equals love? Yup, that's wrong too. Think getting someone off will buy their good graces in a fight? Nope; Peter has the scars to prove it. Hell, there's a whole planet where physical intimacy is the only currency accepted, so really, Peter has no idea why he still clings to the old Terran ideals revolving around physical intimacy.

But he does anyway and it hurts anew every time he's forced to seduce someone.

His orgasm hits him unexpectedly and Peter is thrown out of his dismal thoughts as stars explode into being behind his eyes, his spine arching, hands scrabbling for purchase against Ronan's skin. It's painful how tightly his muscles have clenched during climax but the afterglow that makes Peter's vision hazy mutes the discomfort. He'll feel it later, of that there is no doubt, but as his muscles start to go lax he can't bring himself to care about it or the fact that he's about to hit the floor.

Hands grab him and haul him forward to sag limply against a warm chest as long legs fold under him to provide support. Peter knows that Ronan is speaking because he can feel the vibrations under his cheek and against his ear but its just white noise in the background that he can't be bothered to pay attention to. Large hands take his pulse briefly before smoothing over his skin, and the Terran makes an appreciative sound, soaking up the attention as his release cools between them.

He feels safe. There's no reason for it, especially given Peter's current situation, but something about the solid feel of the Kree surrounding him makes him feel safe. Protected. Wanted.

It's been a very long time since Peter has felt any of those things.