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Peter Parker found himself, as he seemed to be more and more now, in his Spider-Man and in a part of New York he'd never been before. He was crouched on a rooftop overlooking the Bronx neighborhood Nick Fury had sent him to investigate. The S.H.E.I.L.D. director’s orders were clear: locate Phineas Mason, aka the Tinkerer, and assess the source of the irregular energy consumption in the area. Peter couldn’t help but wonder if Fury considered this assignment a test run for a rookie. After all, Mason was hardly a world-ending threat—just a portly inventor “tinkering” with leftover alien tech after having escaped during Spider-Man’s battle with the Vulture.
The streets below were unnervingly still. With no skyscrapers to swing from, Spider-Man leapt from building to building, his movements fluid but cautious. Fury’s intel led him to a modest brick house with basement windows emitting a faint, pulsating glow. He landed right there and peered inside, spotting Mason instantly. But it wasn’t the Tinkerer that caught Peter's attention—it was his companions.
Several small, green-skinned aliens stood around the table, their bulbous eyes gleaming under the dim light. Their skin had a thin, almost translucent quality, and their wiry limbs moved with jerky precision. One of them clutched a device that looked like a cross between a blaster and a tuning fork. Their voices, though muffled on the other side of the window, sounded high-pitched and full of impatience.
Peter’s spider-senses tingled faintly, but the sensation was off—muffled, like static drowning out a signal. His gaze shifted to an antenna-like device on Mason’s workbench. It pulsed rhythmically, emitting waves of energy that seemed to distort the air around it. That’s the power drain, he realized. Mason must have rigged some leftover Chitauri tech to send a signal into space, reaching out to these extraterrestrial weirdos. But what he didn’t figure out, unfortunately, was that excess energy was interfering with his spider-senses, leaving him vulnerable.
He adjusted his position on the ledge, trying to get a clearer view. One alien spoke angrily, gesturing wildly at what looked like a crate of weapons. It soon became clear that these weren't invaders, but rather weapons merchants, or worse, trying to offload some cargo. Mason sighed loudly, rubbing his temples as if negotiating with a stubborn child.
Peter’s amusement faded as he noticed movement in his peripheral vision. He turned just as another alien crept up behind him, its weapon crackling with energy. He tried to move, but the weapon struck him before he could react. His body stiffened as electricity surged through his suit. The comms fizzed and went silent. Darkness swallowed him.
When he regained consciousness, he was encased in a glass chamber. His muscles ached, but he knew he could break free once he recovered. He stayed still, pretending to be unconscious while eavesdropping on the conversation outside.
Mason crossed his arms, his expression a practiced mask of irritation. "A hundred bucks? Seriously?” He tapped the crate of weapons with a deliberate thud, his tone dripping with faux concern. "Well okay, but you're really driving a hard bargain."
One of the aliens tilted its bulbous head, its eyes narrowing as it processed his words. It chirped something in its guttural language before pointing aggressively at Mason.
The second alien scratched its scalp, confusion etched across its thin face. It glanced at its companion, who grunted and waved a hand dismissively. "No! One hundred’s fair. No more talk."
Mason shrugged, letting out an exaggerated sigh. "Alright, deal's a deal." He turned his attention to the workbench, hiding the glint of satisfaction in his eyes. The aliens huddled together, their whispers sharp and agitated.
Peter, still pretending to be unconscious, had to work extra hard to suppress a laugh. But he couldn't help it. The giggles escaped him and quickly grew sharp and incredulous.
Mason shot him a glare, while the aliens turned their wide eyes toward the glass chamber. Mason groaned, pinching the bridge of his nose. The aliens murmured among themselves, their frustration growing.
“A hundred bucks? Seriously?" Peter barked out a laugh, his voice muffled through the glass case. His limbs still tingled from the extralesthetic stun weapon, but he wasn’t about to let them know he could move. Not yet. "You guys realize you’re being scammed, right? I mean, come on. A hundred bucks? That’s, like, not even the price of a fancy dinner."
Their bulbous eyes blinked in unison, confusion evident. One of them scratched its head with a stubby clawed hand. "Scammed?" it echoed in a high-pitched warble.
"Yeah, scammed. Like, ripped off. Totally hosed," Peter continued, unable to keep the grin off his face behind his mask.
He propped himself up on one elbow, feigning casualness even as he tested his strength. The glass case wasn’t much of a challenge for someone who could bench press a car. "I mean, I get it—I guess Earth’s currency is new for you—but $100? That’s pocket change. Hell, my aunt gives me more than that for my birthday."
Mason’s jowly face flushed with frustration. "Kid, shut up!" He snapped.
One of the aliens hissed, its slimy skin glistening under the dim basement light. The other growled back, waving its arms erratically. Peter didn’t need a translator to know they were arguing about whether Mason had duped them.
"This is rich," Peter muttered under his breath, shaking his head. "Aliens. Actual aliens. And they’re dumber than Flash Thompson on a bad day."
Before Mason could retort, one of the aliens lunged at him, its claws slashing through the air. Mason yelped, stumbling backward into a pile of half-finished gadgets. The other alien turned to Peter, its expression somewhere between annoyance and panic.
"Hey, don’t look at me," Peter said, holding up his hands defensively. "I’m just the guy in the box." Then, with a quick flex of his muscles, he shattered the glass case, shards scattering across the floor. He sprang to his feet, ready for a fight.
The alien lunged at him, but Peter sidestepped with ease, catching its wrist and twisting gently. It yelped, dropping the strange weapon it had been holding.
"Look, I don’t want to hurt you guys," Peter said, crouching to avoid a wild swing from the second alien. "But if you don’t stop flailing around, I might have to."
They didn’t stop. Of course they didn’t stop.
Peter sighed, webbing one to the wall and dodging another clumsy attack. He could hear Mason groaning in the corner, clutching his belly.
"Just stay down, dude," Peter called over his shoulder. "This is way above your pay grade."
The alien bolted out the back door, its stubby legs carrying it surprisingly quick toward the garage. Peter sprinted after it, his instincts sharp despite the chaos. He was sure that Fury would not be happy with him if he let these guys get away.
Then, just as he stepped into the garage, he spotted it—a small, antiquated flying saucer parked in the corner. Its metallic surface gleamed under the single flickering bulb and a ramp trailed from an opening on its underside to the cement below.
Before Peter could do anything about it, the alien scrambled up the ramp and into the craft. A second alien, still inside, jabbed at a console with frenzied urgency. The saucer’s engines whirred to life, lifting it off the ground. Peter cursed under his breath and lunged forward, webbing the hatch just as it began to close. He yanked himself inside, tumbling onto the cramped floor.
The interior was cluttered with mismatched gadgets and glowing panels. The two aliens turned to him, their bulbous eyes wide. One immediately lunged, but Peter dodged and grabbed by its arm, holding it behind its back.
“Hey, easy there! I just wanna talk!” he said.
The other alien slammed its clawed hand on the console. The saucer jolted upward, throwing Peter off balance. He stumbled into a bulkhead, his grip loosening on the first alien. It wriggled free, retreating to a corner with a panicked hiss.
Peter braced himself as the saucer shot through the garage roof, debris raining down around them. Through the viewport, the sky darkened rapidly. They’re taking me into space, he realized, a knot of dread tightening in his stomach.
He turned to the aliens, his voice firm. “You guys need to turn this thing around. Now.”
They chattered at each other in their guttural language, ignoring him. Peter sighed and wondered if this was what Tony Stark meant by "rookie mistakes." He webbed both of them to the console and reached for the controls praying he'd be able to figure them out. Then everything turned sideways.
The saucer jolted violently as a blinding light enveloped it. Peter staggered, catching himself on the bulkhead. Through the viewport, he saw the earth shrink rapidly, replaced by the vast blackness of space. His stomach churned when he spotted the sleek, imposing ship looming above them. Its tractor beam locked onto the saucer, pulling it into an opened entrance.
The saucer clanged against the metal floor of the cargo hold. Peter’s legs buckled as he adjusted his stance, heart pounding. The hatch hissed open, and there she stood.
Her emerald skin gleamed under the harsh lights, and her sharp features were framed by dark red hair flowing just past her shoulders. Under a brown leather-like jacket she wore a fitted black outfit that hinted at both strength and beauty underneath. Her long legs were easy to make out in her tight black pants that came down to black combat boots. She carried a sword strapped to her back, its hilt glinting ominously. Her gaze swept over him, lingering briefly on the symbol on his suit before narrowing.
Peter swallowed hard. She was stunning, in a way that made his brain freeze for a second. But there was also something dangerous about her. He felt small under her scrutiny.
“You’ve gotta be kidding me,” she muttered, stepping closer. Her tone was flat but irritated.
Peter raised his hands in a gesture of surrender, mask obscuring his nervous grin. “Uh… hi? You’re not their queen, are you?”
Her eyebrow arched, and her lips curved into a smirk that didn’t quite reach her eyes. “Queen?” she repeated angrily.
One of the aliens chirped panickedly and Gamora instantly unsheathed her sword and gestured toward it.
“You two,” she said, her tone clipped. “Stay still.”
They cowered, their bulbous eyes wide with fear.
Peter shifted uncomfortably, suddenly aware of how out of his depth he was. “Look, I don’t know what’s going on here, but I think there’s been a mistake. These guys tried to kidnap me—”
“Kidnap you?” Gamora interrupted.
Her sharp eyes narrowed as she studied him. His suit was unlike anything she’d seen before, but the build beneath it was unmistakably humanoid. The realization came with a flicker of surprise. She had thought he was just another smuggler on the ship, not this lanky figure with a voice that cracked under pressure.
"Take off the mask," she commanded, her tone leaving no room for argument.
Peter hesitated. He would never do this normally, but given the circumstances he really did have a choice. Slowly, he peeled it off, revealing a youthful face that looked impossibly young. His brown eyes widened as they met hers, and she could see the nervous energy radiating off him. He was definitely human, but younger than the one she was familiar with. Much younger than Quill in fact.
"You’re… human," she said, more to herself than to him.
"Uh, yah, last I checked,” Peter replied, trying to keep his voice steady.
Gamora ignored the introduction. "What are you doing with these idiots?" She gestured toward the aliens still webbed to the console.
"I don’t know what’s going on! They were in the Tinkers house and I was just trying to stop them from—"
"Quiet" she cut in, her voice sharp enough to silence him instantly and clamped his mouth shut. “You sound just like him…”
"Like who?" he blurted out after a beat of silence.
"Quill," she responded automatically. "Peter Quill. Another human who I've worked with."
"Oh! Peter’s my name too," he said with a nervous laugh. "But that’s just a coincidence, I guess. It’s a pretty common name where I’m from—"
"Silence," Gamora interrupted again, pinching the bridge of her nose. This one was almost as talkative as Quill, though less obnoxious about it. She stole another glance at him, noting the way his hands fidgeted and how his eyes kept flickering to her sword.
She observed him for a moment longer. It was true, he reminded her of Quill in some ways—same species, same undeniable chatterbox tendencies—but in others he was different. Smaller. Younger. More… polite. And annoyingly endearing.
She also acknowledged something else. His youth and slight frame weren’t entirely unappealing. She preferred male who didn’t try so hard to project bravado. And this one, with his awkward politeness and wide-eyed curiosity, was... intriguing. But she wasn’t about to let him know that.
"Stay put," she ordered, turning her attention back to the aliens. "I’ll deal with you once I’ve handled this mess."
Peter nodded, pressing his lips together tightly. Gamora smirked faintly. At least he listened better than Quill ever did.
Gamora exhaled sharply, turning back to the aliens and lifted them both up in each hand with ease and left to toss them both in the brig. Peter watched her move, noting the precision in every step. She was mesmerizing—graceful and deadly, like a predator in motion. He couldn’t decide if he wanted to run or stay. Only when she was done did she return to him by the saucer, her stature and figure just as imposing as when she left.
Peter cleared his throat, forcing himself to focus. “So, uh, we done here? I'd kind of like to make it back to Earth before dinner.”
Her expression darkened. “Don’t push your luck.”
He held up his hands again, retreating a step. “Got it No problem.”
“Now, start talking. What were you doing on that ship?”
Peter adjusted his mask nervously. “It’s kinda a long story. They tried to sell some weapons to this guy Mason—and get this he was trying to get it for a hundred bucks.” He shrugged, attempting a casual tone. “I kinda laughed. Things escalated, I took a few down and ended up chasing these two to their ship. And well...”
Her expression remained amused.
Peter chuckled before catching her unimpressed look. He cleared his throat. “Anyway, the rest of them are still at Mason’s place. Probably still knocked.”
Gamora crossed her arms. “And what do they have to do with you?”
“I was investigating Mason for… uh, unauthorized use of alien tech. Wasn’t expecting actual aliens though.” He paused, his eyes flickering to her sword. “You’re not planning to, like, kill them or anything, right?”
She raised an eyebrow. “No. I’m a bounty hunter. They're wanted alive.” Her tone softened, though her posture stayed rigid. “Point me to this Mason’s house. This saucer’s less conspicuous than my ship.”
Peter nodded, pulling his mask back on. “Sure thing. Follow my lead.”
They flew down to Earth in the small saucer, the silence between them tense yet oddly comfortable. Gamora’s sharp eyes scanned the terrain below as Peter guided her to the Masons' house. The moment they landed, the garage doors burst open.
Mason stood there, armed with a Chitauri cannon ready. His portly frame trembled with determination. “Thought you’d come back to take me in, bug boy!” he shouted, leveling the cannon directly at them.
The blast hit the saucer, forcing Gamora to dive for cover behind its bulk. Spider-Man leapt into action. He swung through the air, dodging the cannon’s blasts with ease. Landing behind Mason, he webbed the weapon and yanked it from his grasp. A quick spin and a well-placed kick sent the Tinkerer down right in front of him.
Gamora walked out from behind the saucer, sheathing her sword. Her eyes flicked toward Peter, who was standing over Mason’s sprawled form. A faint curve touched her lips. “Not bad for a boy.”
“Thanks. I mean, not my first rodeo, but it’s nice to get a little applause.” He scratched the back of his neck, his voice lilting with nervous humor. “So, uh… what’s next? You gonna teach me how to use that sword?”
Her smirk deepened, but she didn’t shut him down. Instead, she turned toward Mason’s unconscious body. “Next, I clean up.” She strode over to the basement and began loading the weapons and unconscious aliens into the craft.
Peter watched her for a moment before ducking into the house to use Mason’s landline. The comms in his suit were still fried, and he needed to let Fury know the mission was complete. He dialed the number Fury had given him, his voice low and careful as he reported Mason’s capture. He conveniently left out the part about the little green men and the hot green-skinned space babe now loading them up outside. Despite wanting to earlier, he thought better of it, not wanting to anger her.
While he spoke, Gamora paused in her work, her gaze drifting toward the house. This human boy was... unexpected. Peter Quill’s constant flirting had always grated on her, though she’d grown to tolerate him as a friend. But this younger Peter—awkward, polite, and impossibly earnest—was different. His strength and agility were far beyond what she’d expect from a human, let alone one so young. She found it all very attractive for some reason.
She shook off the thought, returning to her task. The quicker she finished here, the sooner she could return to the Guardians. Yet a part of her wondered if there was time to learn more about this boy before she left.
Peter emerged from the house, mask in hand, and jogged over to her. His hair was slightly mussed. “Alright, everything’s clear on my end,” he said, gesturing vaguely toward the house. “You’re good to go.”
Gamora straightened, her sharp eyes meeting his. “Good to go?” she repeated, her tone light but edged with amusement. “You’re awfully eager to see me leave.”
He blinked, caught off guard. “Uh, no! I mean, I just figured you’ve got places to be, right? Bounties to hunt, smugglers to wrangle… that kind of thing.”
Her lips twitched, and she took a step closer. “Maybe I’m not in such a hurry.”
Her eyes locked onto his for a moment, and Peter felt exposed, like she was peeling back layers he didn’t even know he had. "You’re not just some normal human child," she said flatly, her tone cutting through the air. "I can see that much."
Peter shifted awkwardly, his face burning. "Uh… thanks…uh?" He paused, realizing he still hadn’t caught her name.
"Gamora," she offered, as if sensing his unspoken question. She turned back to the saucer with a fluid motion, gesturing for him to follow. "You can join me on my ship for a bit if you want."
He hesitated for a split second before jogging after her, unsure of why she wanted him along but too curious to refuse. As they climbed into the saucer and it took off, Peter couldn’t help but glance back at Earth, now falling below them. The view was breathtaking, and this time he could actually enjoy it.
"First time off-planet?" Gamora asked, cutting through his thoughts. She didn’t look at him, focusing instead on navigating the ship.
"Well, technically, earlier was the first time," Peter admitted, his voice tinged with awe. "But I didn’t have the chance to enjoy it. This is different. It’s… amazing." He glanced at her, his enthusiasm bubbling over. "Most people on Earth don’t get to do this. Ever. It’s kind of a dream come true."
She smirked faintly, her looking toward him for a brief moment. Before he could add anything else, she surprised him by placing a hand on his shoulder. The touch was firm but fleeting, a silent acknowledgment of his excitement.
When they docked with her ship, Gamora gestured toward the brig. "Help me secure the rest of them," she said, already moving toward the aliens Peter had webbed up earlier. He followed without protest, though his mind was still reeling from everything that had happened.
Once they were locked up and the weapons stashed, Gamora leaned against a bulkhead and crossed her arms. "You hungry?" she asked, her tone casual.
"Uh, yeah, sure," Peter replied, caught off guard by the offer. He hadn’t realized how long it had been since he last ate.
She nodded and led him to a small galley. Inside, she prepared a plate of something that looked suspiciously like spaghetti and meatballs. "It’s an approximation of an Earth dish," she explained, handing it to him. "Learned it from Quill."
Peter took the plate, his curiosity piqued. "So, uh, who is Quill exactly? You guys… close?" he asked, trying to sound casual but failing to hide his true curiosity.
"Quill was taken from your planet as a child. Raised by Ravagers. We work together now, though he’s... an acquired taste." Even though she was obviously being ironic, her expression still softened when she as she said his name
Peter frowned, his fork hovering over the plate. "That’s... kinda messed up. Like, kidnapped? As a kid? Like literally kidnapped" His voice dropped, the weight of it sinking in. "So he’s been out here alone this whole time?"
"Not alone," Gamora corrected. "He had Yondu. But yes, it wasn’t an easy life." She shrugged, as if brushing off the heaviness of the topic. "He talks about Earth all the time. Calls it his home, even if he hasn’t been back in decades."
Peter had nothing to say to this. It made his problems look miniscule by comparison.
She leaned back against the counter, watching him as he awkwardly poked at the food. "Do you know Kevin Bacon?
Peter blinked, confused. "Kevin Bacon?"
Gamora leaned back, her arms crossed. "Quill told us Bacon was a great warrior. A hero revered across your planet. Is this not true?"
Peter snorted, shaking his head. "Uh, no. He’s just an actor. Not exactly a folk hero. Quill must’ve told you the plot of some really old movie or something."
She rolled her eyes. "Of course he did." Her gaze shifted back to Peter, more appraising now. "What about you? That suit, your strength… are you a great warrior?"
Peter chuckled nervously, scratching the back of his neck. "Nah, nothing like that. I’ve got… spider powers. Sounds weird, I know." He hesitated, then continued. "You see, down on Earth we do have heroes. People who use what they’ve got to help others. Mr. Stark—Iron Man—he kinda inspired me to step up. I figured if I could do something to make a difference, I should."
Gamora raised an eyebrow, her expression unreadable for a moment. "So you’re a hero. But why hide your face? Most would want the recognition."
Peter’s smile faded, his tone turning serious. "Idon’t care about fame. And my aunt—she’s the only family I’ve got left. If people knew who I was, it’d put her in danger. She doesn’t need that."
At the word family Gamora’s eyes flickered—a shadow of pain, quickly masked. She nodded once, her voice quieter now. "Protecting family is noble. Not everyone understands that." She looked away, her jaw clenching briefly before she spoke again. "You’re not interested in fame at all?"
He shrugged, a faint grin returning. "I mean, it’s nice when people say thanks. And… being offered dinner is nice too. That’s enough for me."
Gamora leaned forward, her eyes flicking over Peter with a quiet intensity. She let the silence stretch just long enough to make him shift awkwardly in his seat. "So," she started. "Is there anything else I could offer you? As gratitude of course."
Peter blinked, his face scrunching slightly as he processed the question. "Uh… I mean, dinner was enough. Really. You didn’t have to do that, but it’s cool." He shrugged, his words trailing off as he glanced around the galley like the walls might give him a clue what she was getting at.
Her brow arched, and the corner of her mouth twitched. Clearly, her meaning hadn’t landed. "Humans have… mating customs, don’t they? How does that work on your planet?"
Peter’s face flushed instantly, his hand freezing halfway to his glass of water. "Wait—what? Why are you asking about that?" His voice cracked, betraying the sudden spike in his nerves.
She folded her arms, leaning back. "Quill makes it clear often enough that he’s interested. Loudly. And repeatedly." Her tone carried a hint of frustration. "But I’ve made my disinterest equally clear. Yet he persists. Is that typical for your kind?"
Peter fumbled for words, his cheeks still burning. "Uh, yeah, I mean… some guys are like that. Too many, probably. They don’t always take the hint." He rubbed the back of his neck, avoiding her eyeline.
"What about you?" Her stare was integrative.
"No, not me. I’m not really the dating type. There’s school...and then there's being Spider-Man, you know? Kind of not much time for much else."
For a moment, a fleeting image of Liz crossed his mind—that kiss, the way she’d looked at him before everything fell apart. But he pushed it aside as quickly as he always did.
Gamora stood and drew near in just a few steps, her presence suddenly overwhelming. Peter tensed, his eyes darting up to hers as she loomed just a little too close for comfort. He swallowed hard, his brain scrambling to figure out what she was after.
"What do you want?" he asked, his voice cracking again despite his best efforts to sound casual.
Her eyes locked onto his, sharp and unyielding. He felt like he was wounded prey pinned under the glare of a hungary predator. She stared deeper, savoring his discomfort. The way he fidgeted, the way his voice faltered—it both frustrated her. And egged her on.
Without a word, she stepped back and perched herself on the edge of the table in front of him. Her long legs parted, the fabric of her black pants stretching taut. She shrugged off her jacket, letting it fall onto the chair beside Peter. The motion was casual, but the effect it had on him wasn’t.
Peter’s eyes followed the jacket briefly before snapping back to her. His face burned as she reached up, running her fingers through her dark red hair. The movement pulled her corset tighter across her chest, accentuating her breasts. He swallowed hard, his mouth suddenly dry. Her emerald skin seemed to glow under the ship’s lights, and he couldn’t help but notice how utterly alien and breathtaking she was.
She leaned forward, resting her elbows on her knees. Her eyes narrowed, and she reached out, tilting his chin up with two fingers. Her touch was firm but not harsh, forcing him to look into her eyes.
“I asked you a question earlier,” she reminded him. “Is there anything else I could offer you? Besides dinner.”
Peter’s heart hammered in his chest. He could feel the heat rising in his cheeks, and a certain part of his body was making itself very hard and visible under his suit. He cleared his throat, trying to sound nonchalant but failing miserably. “I mean…not really. Nothing”-he gulped-"comes to mind."
Gamora leaned in closer, her face inches from his. Her breath was warm against his skin, and he could smell something faintly metallic—like iron—mingled with a hint of spice.
“You’re lying,” she murmured. “Your heart is racing spider boy.”
Peter’s eyes widened. “It’s Spider-MAN,” he corrected automatically. But he cringed internally at how weak he sounded.
She chuckled softly, the sound low and rich. “Spider-Man,” she repeated with emphasis as if testing the name on her tongue. Her hand dropped from his chin, leaving him inexplicably colder without her touch.
He shifted in his seat, trying to discreetly adjust himself. This was insane. Impossible. Gamora was an older, seasoned alien warrior who looked like she could kill him with a glance. And yet here she was practically inviting...him to...seriously? His mind strained trying to make sense of it all.
Gamora watched him silently for a moment studying every flicker of emotion that crossed his face: confusion. nervousness. Desire and embarrassment all tangled together like crossed wires.
She finally spoke again, breaking the silence between them. "You know," she said cooly, "I may have only met two, but humans seem to be so transparent.”
Peter blinked, caught off guard by sudden observation “Uh what do mean?”
She smirked, leaning closer once more. “Every thought, every feeling written clear as day. Like open book”
His cheeks flushed darker if possible. He looked away shifting uncomfortably in his seat. “Yeah well guess I’m not exactly a master poker player then, huh?”
Gamora shook her head. "Whatever 'poker' is, certainly not.”
Silence fell between them, the tension thick enough cut with a Gamora’s sword. Peter glanced back at her, unsure what to say or do next. This was nothing like the scenarios that he had played out head late at night, lying on his bed jacking-off while staring at the ceiling back home. Not even when he was imagining what it would be like to do it with an alien.
Breaking quiet she spoke again, her tone softer than before “Tell me something honest," she said gaze locking onto his once more, "What do you want right now? In this moment.”
Peter hesitated for a heartbeat before answering honestly. "Honestly? I have no freaking clue.”
So Gamora leaned in closer, her hand brushing against his knee as she repositioned herself. Her touch was light but deliberate, sending a jolt through him that he couldn’t ignore.
“How about I show you what you want, then?” she told him.
Before he could respond her lips pressed against his firmly. Peter froze, his brain short-circuiting at the sudden contact. Her hand slid up to cup his cheek, her touch grounding him as his instincts took over. Hesitantly, he kissed her back, his movements clumsy but earnest.
When she pulled back, her eyes searched his face, a flicker of satisfaction in their depths. “Better than dinner, isn’t it?”
Peter blinked, still processing what had just happened. “Uh… yeah. Definitely. But, uh…” He hesitated. “Why me?”
Gamora leaned back, but her gaze never left his. “You’re not like Quill,” she said simply. “You don’t try too hard except when you fight or want to help. You’re… authentic.” Her fingers trailing against his jawline, sending another shiver down his spine.
“Authentic?” he repeated “I don’t think anyone’s called me that before.”
“Most people are too caught up in their own egos to see it.” She stood abruptly, extending a hand to him. “Come on.”
Peter stared at her outstretched hand, momentarily paralyzed. “Where are we going?”
“You’ll see.” Her tone left no room for argument.
Taking her hand, he allowed her to lead him through the ship’s corridors, their footsteps echoing in the narrow hallway. Eventually, they stopped outside a door that hissed open at Gamora’s approach. Inside was a small room lit by soft ambient light. A single cot stood against the wall, with a few personal belongings scattered across a nearby table. It was sparse but functional—clearly hers.
She turned to face him, her expression unreadable. “You said never been off-planet before today,” she stated matter-of-factly.
Peter nodded his head. “Yeah....”
Her lips twitched in what might have been the ghost of a smile. “Then this will be a day of two first experiences for you.” She moved in on him, her presence overwhelming in the confined space.
Peter’s breath caught as she reached to touch his face, her fingers rubbing against his skin. He didn’t resist, letting her pull it off and set it aside. Her gaze lingered on his face for a moment before she leaned in, her lips finding his once more.
This time, the kiss was slower. Peter’s hands hovered awkwardly at his sides before settling on her waist. She made a low sound of approval, encouraging him to deepen the kiss. The warmth of her body pressed against his sent a rush of heat through him, making his head spin.
When they finally broke apart, Peter was trembling slightly, his heart racing. “This… this is insane,” he muttered.
She stepped back, giving him a moment to collect himself. “And yet you're not going to stop me,” she said quietly.
Peter nodded, though he wasn’t sure he could form coherent words right now. His body ached with a need he hadn’t fully understood until this moment.
Gamora's hand reaches out to flip a switch on the console beside her cot. Peter’s eyes darted toward the wall as it began to shift, the metal panels sliding open like a shutter. He stood there a little stunned when he saw what lay beyond—a transparent pane, revealing Earth in all its radiant glory. The planet hung in the vastness of space, its blue and green hues striking against the black void. It looked just like the famous Apollo 17 photo of the big blue marble, but this was there real and alive, not in a textbook or on a computer screen.
“Whoa,” Peter whispered.
Gamora didn’t respond. Instead, she moved closer again, her fingers curling around his wrist. She pulled him into another kiss, deeper this time, her body pressing hard against him. The heat between them flared as his erection strained against through the fabric of his suit, and he could feel the tightness of her pants against it. It was overwhelming—her closeness, her intensity, and the sight of Earth looming behind her.
Her lips moved over his with a confidence that left him exhilarated and overwhelmed. When she pulled back again, her eyes looked into his. “Quite the sight isn't it,” she said.
Peter swallowed hard, his eyes flickering between her and the planet. “It’s… it’s incredible. But I—” He hesitated, his words stumbling. “I don’t know if I can focus on that right now.”
A faint smirk tugged at her lips. “Good.” Her hands slid up his chest, her fingers deftly finding the edges of his suit. She pulled at it, loosening the fabric enough to peel it down over his shoulders. Peter tensed for a moment, then let her guide him, his suit falling around his waist. His skin prickled under her touch, and he couldn’t help but shiver.
Her hands moved to the fastenings of her corset. She tugged it free, the fabric sliding away to reveal the smooth expanse of her emerald skin. She was every bit as beautiful underneath as he’d imagined—lean and muscular, with an elegance that was almost otherworldly. Her breasts were small but firm, and her nipples hardened in the cool air of the ship.
She reached for him again, pulling him closer until their bodies were pressed together once more. Her skin was warm against his, and he could feel the rise and fall of her chest as she breathed. Her hands slid down his back, exploring the contours of his muscles with a vigour that left him quivering.
Peter's hands hesitated for a moment before returning to her now naked torso. His fingers traced the curve of her waist, marveling at the way her body felt under his touch. It was unlike anything he’d ever experienced—intimate and enthralling all at once.
Gamora leaned into him, her lips capturing his in another probing kiss. Her hands moved to his waist, fingers slipping beneath the fabric of his suit. Suddenly, she froze. Her eyes widened as her palm brushed against his erection. She broke the kiss, pulling back to stare at him with an expression that was equal parts surprise and disbelief.
Peter blinked, his face flushing crimson. “What’s wrong?” he asked, his voice tinged with worry. He had seen her look unsure before, and it made him nervous.
“Stop talking,” she said abruptly.
Before he could respond, she dropped to her knees in front of him with startling speed. The sudden movement made him catch his breath. Her hands worked quickly at the remaining fabric of his suit, tugging it down over his hips. Peter gulped. He knew what was coming, but the reality of it was still overwhelming. He helped her shimmy the suit off, his hands shaking. Then his boxers came down…
When his cock shot free, it happened faster than either of them expected. The sheer size of it caught Gamora off guard, and it smacked against her cheek with a soft thud. She froze momentarily, her eyes blinking as she processed what had just happened. She looked up to his face, and for a split second, she looked almost annoyed.
“Oh—uh, sorry about that,” Peter stammered. “I didn’t mean to—.” But he really couldn’t finish the apology.
Gamora didn’t respond right away. Instead, she leaned in closer, her eyes fixed on his length. Her hand reached out, her fingers lightly tracing the veins along the shaft. It twitched under her touch, and she glanced up at him again.
“Is it… too weird?” Peter asked hesitantly, his words stumbling out. “I mean, I know we’re not the same species or anything.”
She shook her head slowly. “No compatibility issues. Most humanoids are built similarly in that regard. But…” She trailed off, her eyes dropping down back to his cock with the same awe he had in his when he looked at the Earth.
He wanted to ask "but what", though he already had a pretty good idea.
Her tongue slithered out, pressing against the underside of his cock in a slow, deliberate lick. Peter gasped, his knees buckling a bit as the sensation sent a jolt through him.
“This isn’t exactly standard human size is it?” She asked, not expecting an answer.
As Gamora kissed the base of his shaft, Peter looked back to the viewport. Her kisses trailed upward, each one sending a jolt through him that made it hard to think straight.
“It—uh, wasn’t always like this,” his voice cracked as her mouth neared the tip.
Her lips pressed against the sensitive skin just below the head, and he nearly lost his train of thought. “It—gre-got bi-changed—” His words were caught in a sharp inhale as she kissed the spot again, her hands steadying him with a firm grip on his hips. “When I got my powers.”
Gamora raised an eyebrow. The way he stumbled over his words, the way his body trembled under her touch—it was clear he was out of his depth.
“You should be grateful. You’re hung like a Korbinite.” Before he could ask what a Korbinite was, she leaned in again, her tongue circling the tip before flicking against the slit. Peter let out a heavy groan, his fingers gripping the edge of the cot for support.
She didn’t stop there. Her lips parted, taking him into her mouth inch by inch. Her tongue swirled around him as she worked. Peter couldn’t help but moan, his head tilting back as he stared again at the Earth behind her. The contrast—her verdant skin against the blackness of space and the sapphire sphere—was almost too much to process.
Her hand wrapped around the base of his cock, squeezing gently as she pulled back slightly. Her tongue teased the underside, tracing the sensitive ridge before she took him in again. This time, she went deeper, her throat muscles contracting around him. Peter’s legs shook, and he had to steady himself to keep from falling over.
“Gamora,” he breathed. “Thi-oh-oh!”
She hummed in response, the vibration sending another wave of pleasure through him. Her eyes met his briefly, and he could see the amusement in them. She sped up her rhythm a tad, her lips and tongue working in perfect harmony. Her free hand reached up, gripping his hip to steady him.
Peter’s thoughts were torn between the incredible sensations and the surrealness of the moment. He’d never imagined anything like this could happen—especially not with an alien, let alone a hot one! Her confidence was intoxicating, and the way she handled him with such ease only added to the intensity.
She pulled back again, her lips lingering at the tip as she spoke. “You’re repressing your release,” she told him. “Don’t.”
“I’m not trying to—” he started, but she cut him off by taking him in again, this time with a firm suction that made him moan.
Peter swallowed hard, his hands gripping the edge of the cot tighter. “It’s… uh, my powers,” he stammered. “They kinda… my stamina’s… well, it’s a lot.” He hesitated, his cheeks burning. “I don’t really know how long it’ll take.”
Her eyes narrowed, a flicker of challenge sparking in them. “Is that so?”
She didn’t wait for an answer. Instead, Gamora didn’t let up. Her mouth swallowed him again, this time with a hunger that made him gasp. She sucked harder, her hand pumping the base of his shaft in rhythm with her movements. Her tongue swirled around the tip, teasing the sensitive ridge until his legs threatened to give out.
Still, he held on. The buildup was intense, but it wasn’t enough to push him over the edge. Gamora pulled back, her lips slick and glistening. She wiped her mouth with the back of her hand.
She didn’t waste time. Her hands slid up his thighs, her fingers digging into his skin as she repositioned herself. Her mouth found him again, and this time she took him deeper, way deeper then he thought possible. Peter groaned. Gamora’s pace quickened, her head bobbing up and down with a rhythm that left him dizzy. She pulled back only to take him in again, each motion more aggressive than the last. Spit dripped down his length, coating him in a slick layer that added to the friction.
“Gamora—” Peter managed to choke out, his voice hoarse. His fingers clenched the edge of the cot so tightly he thought he might dent the metal. “I—I don’t know if—”
She pulled off abruptly, her wet lips in a smirk. “Tough, aren’t you?”
Gamora’s lips parted from his cock, a slick string of saliva still connecting them. She looked up to studying him with an intensity that made him squirm. Her hand tightened around the base of his shaft as she leaned back on her heels, her other hand gesturing toward his hips.
“Take control,” she said simply.
Peter blinked, his mouth dry. “Wait—what?”
She didn’t elaborate. Instead, she guided one of his hands to the back of her head, her eyes locking onto his. The message was clear.
Peter hesitated, his heart pounding. This wasn’t something he’d ever considered, let alone done. He glanced at Earth in the viewport behind her, its blue glow offering no guidance. “I—I don’t know if I should—”
Before he could finish, she pressed his cock against her lips again, her mouth opening to take him in. Her hand squeezed his hip lightly, urging him forward. Peter swallowed hard, his fingers trembling against the back of her head. He pushed tentatively, feeling her throat open around him.
Her neck arched as he moved deeper, her body adjusting to accommodate him. Peter froze as he felt her muscles tighten around him. “Gamora, I—” panic was creeping into his voice. “Are you okay? This doesn’t—”
Her hands gripped his hips tightly, pulling him closer. Her eyes narrowed, silently demanding he continue. Peter hesitated for a moment longer before reluctantly pushing forward again. His cock slid deeper into her throat, and he could feel the way her body strained to adjust.
The sensation was overwhelming—hot and tight in a way he’d hadn't experienced earlier. His fingers tangled in her hair as he moved cautiously, each thrust sending a jolt through him. He couldn’t help but watch her face, searching for any sign of discomfort. Her expression remained steady.
“I don’t want to hurt you,” he muttered. He pulled back, giving her a moment to breathe. Her hand tightened again, urging him forward once more.
Peter obeyed, trying to match her rhythm. His thrusts were slow and uncertain, his focus split between the sensations coursing through him and the worry gnawing at the back of his mind. He could feel her throat constricting around him each time he pushed deeper, the pressure almost unbearable.
Her jaw nearly unhinged as she adjusted to his length, her lips sealing tightly around him. Peter’s breathing grew ragged, his grasp on her hair clenching involuntarily. “Gamora, this is—” He cut himself off, his brain all jumbled up.
The way she looked up at him—solemn yet undeniable in her silent demand—made it impossible to stop. He continued, each movement less controlled than the last. Her hands moved to his thighs, her nails digging in as she steadied herself.
Peter was worried. Is she okay? Can she breathe? The thoughts circled endlessly, his concern mounting with every passing second. Her eyes stayed on him, unblinking and unyielding.
He pulled back again, his cock sliding free with a wet sound. Gamora inhaled sharply, her chest rising as she finally caught her breath. Her grip on his thighs loosened, though her gaze remained steady.
“Are you sure about this?” Peter asked quietly. “I don’t want to—”
Her hand slapped firmly against his thigh, silencing him. She pulled him back in, gulping him down once more. Peter’s resolve was crumbling under her persistence.
Her hands urged him forward again while she lowered herself further still until her nose bumped into the faint trail of hair at the base of his cock. Peter stared down, shocked as he realized just how deep she'd gone. The sight of her neck bulging slightly with the shape of him was terrifying…and hot.
Still her eyes stayed locked on his own even as if to dare him to pull away or try to stop again.
Peter kept moving, hoping the rhythm would be enough to keep the worry at bay.
If anything it just made it worse each time he bottomed out inside of her throat and felt her windpipe giving way around him and each garbled sound that fought its way out from around the massive intrusion only reminded him that this shouldn't be possible.
"Gamora" he croaked pathetically as another shallow thrust eased inside of her. She squeezed around him in response, pushing a groan from his lungs.
"I really really hope this is ok," He said, still struggling with how wrong it felt to know for certain she couldn't breath right now.
When he stopped again though she bit down just enough to make him wince spurring him to keep moving again which of course forced yet another garbled noise out from between her lips and more than likely straight into his balls since there was little room elsewhere for it.
"Right ok then." He muttered, almost choking back a wild laugh when the absurdity of it all finally sunk in that...she would only allow air into her lungs after he came.
Peter couldn't tell if he was getting used to this or if he was just mentally shutting down from how surreal this all was but he kept moving anyway because stopping seemed like the worst possible idea right now.
Peter’s thrusts grew steadier, though his thoughts were anything but. The surrealness of the situation clawed at him. His senses were overloaded. The tightness of her throat around him was almost unbearable, yet she didn’t falter. He could feel her pulse against him—steady, controlled—while his own heart hammered wildly.
Her nails dug into his thighs, grounding him. She pushed him deeper, her throat constricting around his dick as if to silence his doubts. Peter groaned and his grip on her hair tightened. His hips moved of their own accord now, driven by both instinct and the sheer intensity of the sensation. Each thrust sent a jolt through him, building a pressure he couldn’t ignore.
The climax hit him like a supernova. It wasn’t gradual; it wasn’t gentle. It erupted from him with a force that left him gasping. His vision blurred, the sight of Earth behind her replaced by a burst of stars as his brain went empty. He felt it—every pulse, every surge—as his release poured into her. Deep. Endless. Evergrowing.
His strength gave out, his legs buckling as he came harder than he ever had before. It wasn’t just the physical sensation; it was the sight of her. Her lips stretched around him, her cheeks hollowed as she took it all. His cum spilled out of the corners of her mouth, down her chin and onto her chest. He watched, transfixed, as it seeped from her nostrils too, a thin stream running down her jawline.
Peter’s breath caught as he realized what was happening. She was holding him there, refusing to let go even as his release overwhelmed her. Her throat contracted around him, swallowing what she could while the rest escaped in messy rivulets. The sight was both horrifying and mesmerizing. Her emerald skin glistening wet, her face a masterpiece of beauty soiled his own jism.
When she finally pulled back, it was with a choked cough. Cum spilled from her mouth as she gasped for air, her chest heaving. Her eyes watered, but her expression remained fierce. She wiped her face with forearm, smearing it further across her cheek.
Peter reached for her, guilt written all over his face. “Gamora, I’m so sorry—“
She cut him off with a sharp look, her hand gripping his shoulder. Her touch was firm, grounding him even as he quivered. “Don’t,” she said, her voice hoarse but steady. Her other hand swiped at her face again, clearing the mess enough to speak clearly. “I told you not to hold back.”
He stared at her, unsure how to respond. Her expression softened slightly, a flicker of amusement in her eyes. “You’re strong,” she said, her tone matter-of-fact. “Stronger than most I’ve met. It’s… impressive.”
Peter blinked, his cheeks burning. “I—uh, thanks? But seriously, are you okay? That looked like it hurt.”
Gamora shrugged and glanced at the streaks of cum still clinging to her skin, then back at him. A flicker of irritation cut through the haze of satisfaction on her face.
“Stop apologizing,” she insisted. “I don’t need you to coddle me. I’ve handled worse.”
Peter opened his mouth to protest, but the look she gave him silenced him instantly. She stood and walked toward the small washroom attached to her quarters. Before she disappeared, she turned back to him, her lips curling into a smirk that sent a shiver down his spine.
“I'm going to clean myself up and you should to,” she announced, her tone leaving no room for argument. “When I get back, you’re going to do to my pussy what you just did to my face.” Her eyes swept over him, assessing. “And don’t hold back this time.”
The door hissed shut behind her, leaving Peter standing there in stunned silence. His mind raced, trying to process her words. Do the same thing? His heart pounded as he glanced down at himself, still throbbing from the intensity of what had just happened. He wasn’t sure he could handle it again—not like that—like she expected him to match her dominance, her control. It was intimidating, exhilarating, and terrifying all at once. Still, he used the opportunity and a spare towel nearby to wipe some of the sweat and other fluids off of himself.
When the door opened again, Gamora stepped out, her emerald skin glistening from the water. She’d cleaned off the mess he’d made, but her hair was still damp, clinging to her shoulders. She wore nothing but a towel draped loosely around her hips.
She crossed the room in a few strides, stopping just in front of him. Her hand reached out, gripping his chin and forcing him to meet her eyes. “Nervous?” she asked, as if to challenge him.
Peter swallowed hard, his throat dry. “A little,” he admitted softly. He glanced down at the towel wrapped around her hips and felt his pulse quicken.
Gamora smirked, her fingers trailing down to the edge of the towel. With a single motion, she let it fall to the floor, revealing herself fully.
Peter’s eyes darted down, then back up, then down again, like he couldn’t decide where to look. Gamora stood tall, her emerald skin scared yet flawless, every inch of her body sculpted by a lifetime of combat. The curve of her hips was sharp, leading his eyes to the center of her.
Her pussy was similar yet different from diagrams in his biology textbook. The outer lips were a deep green, smooth and slightly parted. Inside, the flesh was a darker, almost crimson red, glistening with a thick, viscous fluid that clung to her folds. A bead of it dripped slowly down her thigh, leaving a faint trail on her skin. He recognized the basic anatomy—lips, clit, entrance—but everything about it was alien, foreign, and utterly hypnotic.
“You’re staring,” Gamora said, cutting through his daze. She didn’t sound offended. If anything, there was a hint of amusement in her tone.
Peter snapped his gaze up to her face, his cheeks burning. “Uh, sorry. I just… I mean, I’ve never seen—”
She raised an eyebrow, her lips twitching into a smirk. “I know.”
He swallowed hard, his Adam’s apple bobbing visibly. “Is that… normal? The color, I mean. And the… uh… goo?”
“When I'm very aroused ? Yes.” She said curtly.
She stepped closer slowly but insistently until her hand gripped his wrist leading him towards her cot and pushed down so that he found himself staring up at her from its edge.
"Stay there," She said while quickly climbing on top of him while guiding his hands to rest on either side of her waist.
She lowered herself slowly until their hips were aligned. Leaning forward Gamora kissed past his lips and along his jaw until she was at his ear.
"Listen closely Peter because I won't be repeating myself again. There is nothing fragile or delicate about me so don't treat me like there is. You're going to destroy my pussy just like you destroyed my mouth...Understand?" Her tone was somewhere between a demand and a plea.
Peter nodded shakily, unable to find words that wouldn't fail him right now. She smirked, satisfied with his compliance. Before her face left his, she paused to kiss the corner of his jaw and then nibble at it for a bit, causing him to inhale sharply.
Gamora climbed past him on the cot and turned around presenting herself above him. The view of the Earth was in front of them both now. "Touch me."
Peter's hands moved hesitantly gripping her hips as instructed. He was unsure of where to start as fingers brushed lightly over skin. He barely grazed over where he thought needed to be touched.
"Not like that," She snapped, grabbing his wrist tighter than necessary and moving his hand more firmly. She didn't bother waiting any longer to guide him where she wanted. Peter found his hand now at her entrance and gently parted her lips testing the feel of his finger against her warmth.
“It’s… warm,” he mumbled, his voice barely audible.
“Obviously,” she replied dryly.
Peter's eyes widened as he felt how wet she was already. Her breathing heavy as his finger slid deeper inside, exploring cautiously. He watched intently taking in every reaction she made. He didn't dare look away even as his own arousal began building once more.
As another finger entered Gamora tilted her hips pushed back, letting herself sink further in. Peter froze again. But Gamora moved for him, rocking against his hand encouraging movement. Voicelessly directing him where she needed him to harder, faster or where to ease off. Peter complied willingly, wanting nothing more desperately than to please right now. He kept pushing, pressing, curling and rubbing wherever seemed right until he found a spot that made her arch back sharply.
"That's it," Gamora growled, urging him onward at a quicker pace now.
Each thrust became less careful and more purposeful. She leaned forward slightly giving Peter a better angle to work with. Her hips ground down onto his hand allowing him to reach deeper still. He could feel her clench around him as he continued working diligently.
"Enough," She groaned.
Gamora pulled his fingers out with a soft pop, her gaze dropping to the real prize: his cock, already hard and ready again. She grasped it firmly, her hand sliding along its length as if measuring it. She let out a surprised sigh, a flicker of awe in her expression.
“This really… belongs to you?” she muttered, more to herself than to him.
The irony wasn’t lost on her—a weapon like this, wielded by someone so hesitant. Part of her was relieved he wasn’t some cocky brute, but right now, she didn’t want to be careful. She wanted demolition.
“Up,” she barked.
She turned toward the translucent pane that framed Earth and the cosmos beyond. Her palms pressed against the cool surface as she wriggled her hips, her ass brushing against his throbbing length. She glanced over her shoulder, her eyes narrowed. “If you don’t pound me with this thing, I’m spacing you.”
Peter’s mouth opened to protest, but she leaned back, silencing him with a kiss. Her lips softened, her tone dropping to become softer. “I’m joking. Mostly.” She paused. “But I do need you to fuck me. Hard.”
He swallowed, his throat dry as he maneuvered behind her. Without further prompting, he lined himself up, his tip pressing against her slick entrance. He pushed in tentatively, the tightness making him wince. Gamora let out an exasperated sigh, her head dropping a bit. “Are you kidding me?”
Taking a deep breath, Peter thrust forward, burying himself to the hilt in one stroke. Gamora’s entire body stiffened, her forehead slamming against the window with a dull thud. A strangled cry escaped her lips: “FUUU-UH-OH-UGHCK!”
Her head dropped, motionless for a heartbeat. Peter froze, panic surging through him. “Gamora? Are you—”
She cut him off with a groan, her nails scraping against the glass. “Move,” she rasped.
Peter obeyed, pulling back slowly before driving into her again. Her hips met his with a force that surprised him, her body pushing back against him. She let out a guttural moan, her head falling back as he found a rhythm. Her hands slid down the pane, leaving smears where her fingers dragged.
“Deeper,” she growled. He complied, angling his hips to press harder. Her moans turned into sharp cries, each thrust punctuated by a gasp or a curse. “Yes—UH—FUH—MORE!”
Her body writhed beneath him, her pussy tightening around him with every stroke. Peter moaned, his hands gripping her hips for stability. She was so tight, so warm, it was all he could do to keep his focus.
“Fuck!” she snapped, her voice cracking as he hit a spot that made her legs shake. Her nails dug into the pane, leaving faint scratches. “Faster!”
Peter quickened his pace. Gamora’s cries grew louder, more desperate. Her hips bucked against him, urging him on. “Yes—yes—there—uh—FUCK!”
Peter’s head spun. He’d never heard sounds like this—raw, primal, unfiltered. It was overwhelming, intoxicating. He pressed harder, deeper, until Gamora’s voice broke into a wail, her forehead pressing harder against the cool glass of the viewport.
Peter hesitated. “Are you—?”
“Don’t stop,” she rasped, her tone sharp but desperate. Her hips moved instinctively, grinding back against him. Peter obeyed, his hands gripping her waist as he resumed his rhythm. Gamora clenched her eyes shut.
Each thrust sent shockwaves through her body, unraveling something deep inside her. Her past flashed in fragments—Thanos’s cold stare, the weight of a blade in her hand, the blood she’d spilled for a man who’d never cared. She’d spent years building walls, hardening herself against the world. Even while growing closer to the Guardians, she never fully let them in. Yet here was this boy, this human, tearing them down with nothing but his cock and his awkward determination.
“Harder,” she roared. Peter obliged, his pace quickening. Gamora’s cries grew louder, more frantic. “Ah—yes! Fuck—uh—there!”
Her entire body trembled as the pressure built, unfamiliar and overwhelming. It wasn’t just physically either. For the first time in her life, she felt free. Not the freedom of escaping a prison or defeating an enemy, but a deeper one—a release from the chains she’d carried inside for so long.
“Peter—” she started, but her voice broke before she could finish. She held herself firm against the pane as her back arched violently. “I’m—”
The climax hit her like a falling star, bright and blinding. Her vision blurred as she screamed, her body convulsing uncontrollably. Her pussy clenched around him, gripping him as if unwilling to let go. Tears streamed silently down her cheek. For a moment, she couldn’t speak, couldn’t think—she could only feel.
When the waves finally subsided, she slumped against the window, her chest heaving. Her voice was barely audible, raw and broken. “I’ve… never…”
Peter stilled, his breaths becoming shallow. “Never what?”
She turned her head, her tear-streaked face looking at his. “That! That never happened before,” she admitted hoarsely. “Not once. Not ever.”
Peter’s eyes widened, his grip on her hips loosening slightly. “But you’re—”
“Don’t stop to chat,” she interrupted sharply, her tone cutting through his confusion. She shifted, her ass pressing against him as she spoke." Again. Now."
Peter hesitated. “Are you sure? I mean, that seemed… intense.”
“Move,” she snapped, her hips pressing back insistently. "Please."
Peter complied, pushing into her again slower this time. Gamora groaned, her body quaked as he filled her once more. "Faster," she demanded almost immediately. Her hands braced against the glass again.
He sped up, his thrusts becoming more forceful than before. Gamora let out wordless cries each time he bottomed out inside her. Her pussy clenched around him as another orgasm began to build. "Yes—AH—fuck!"
Her words turned into incoherent gasps as the pleasure overwhelmed her again. This one was different. Sharp and sudden, it tore through her with brutal efficiency. She screamed, the glass as tears streamed down her face once more.
Peter slowed momentarily, watching her with concern. "You ok?"
"Don't fucking stop!" She snarled, pressing back against him to keep him moving. Peter obeyed, though he kept a close eye on her reactions. Each thrust brought another cry or moan from Gamora as she teetered on the edge of another climax. "Fuck—uh—yes!"
She hung there, shivering as her body surrendered again. "Peter!" She cried out, her voice breaking mid-scream. Her legs gave out, forcing him to catch her before she collapsed completely. He held onto her tight, continuing to thrust into her despite her shaking form.
"Almost," she whispered weakly, barely able to form the word. Her head lulled to the side, resting against the cool glass. Peter kept going, hoping she'd finish before she passed out. She moaned softly every time he hit that spot inside of her, sending shivers through both of them. "Close," she breathed out, barely audible over their combined noises and his heartbeat ringing in his ears.
Peter pushed even deeper than before. Her body tensed, preparing for another orgasm. With one last thrust, she shattered, screaming louder than ever before. Her muscles clamped down hard he thought he might collapse too. But instead, he held onto her, helping her ride it out until finally she went limp in his arms, panting heavily.
Tears welled up again in Gamora’s eyes as she managed to turn her body around in order to look into Peter’s face. "Thank you," she mumbled softly before leaning forward, taking his lips in a passionate kiss.
Peter hesitated, his hands still gripping her hips as she leaned against the viewport. Gamora’s emerald skin glowed softly against the backdrop of Earth, her silhouette framed by the planet’s vibrant blues and greens. She looked ethereal, like some primal embodiment of life itself—Gaia in the flesh. He couldn’t help but feel the enormity of the moment, the weight of it pressing down on him as much as the sight of her did.
“Peter,” she murmured, almost tenderly. One of her legs slid up his thigh, hooking around him to pull him closer. Her strength surprised him given what had just happened.
“You’re kind,” she whispered, her lips against his as she spoke. “Too kind for someone like me.”
Her words caught him off guard. He blinked, his rhythm faltering for a moment. “What do you mean?” he asked, his voice cracking under the strain of holding back.
“You’re too good,” she said quietly, her fingers tracing the line of his jaw. “A boy like you… you don’t belong with someone like me. I’ve done things. Terrible things.”
Peter shook his head, his thrusts slowing as he tried to process what she was saying. “Nobody’s perfect,” he replied earnestly. “You’re not—”
She cut him off with a kiss, her hand gripping the back of his neck to keep him close. The kiss was deep, almost desperate, as though she were trying to silence her own thoughts with the taste of him. When she finally pulled away, her expression fractured to show something Peter had never seen on her face until now: vulnerability.
“I don’t deserve you,” she insisted. Her leg tightened around him, urging him to move again. “But I want you.”
Peter complied, his hips rocking against hers with renewed purpose. Her words lingered in the air between them, heavy and unspoken. He didn’t know how to respond to them, so he let his body do the talking instead. His hands slid up her sides, tracing the curve of her waist before settling on her hips. The warmth of her skin beneath his palms grounded him, even as her words left him adrift.
Gamora let out a long sigh as he pressed deeper, her forehead resting against his shoulder. “You’re gentle,” she whispered harshly. “Even now. You don’t have to be.”
Peter frowned, his brow furrowing as he struggled to understand. “I don’t want to hurt you,” he said simply, his tone sincere. “That’s not who I am.”
The sound she made was something between a laugh and a sob. Her nails dug into his back as she clung to him, her body shaking. “That’s what I mean,” she breathed. “I don’t deserve this. Don’t deserve you.”
Her words filled him with a mixture of emotions—warmth, confusion, protectiveness. He couldn’t reconcile the way she saw herself with the way he saw her. To him, she was strong, fierce, and beautiful. Destructive, maybe, but not beyond redemption. She wasn’t a monster; she was just someone who’d been hurt.
“Stop saying that,” he murmured, his lips next to her ear as he spoke. His hips moved gently now, each thrust measured and steady. She arched into him, her body responding instinctively to his touch.
Gamora shook her head, her fingers tangling in his hair as she pulled him closer. “You don’t know me,” she whispered, her voice tinged with regret. “If you did…”
Peter leaned back slightly, his hands moving to cup her face. For a moment, she just stared at him, her eyes searching his face as though looking for something. Then she kissed him again, hard and hungry, as if trying to erase the words before they could leave her lips.
His fingers sliding down to grip her hips once more. Her body moved with his, their rhythm slow but steady. The Earth loomed behind her, a silent witness to their connection. Peter couldn’t shake the feeling that this moment was bigger than either of them—two beings from different worlds, drawn together by a force neither could fully understand.
Gamora’s leg tightened around him again, pulling him closer until there was no space left between them. Her breath was warm against his neck, her words soft but insistent. “You make me feel like…,” she admitted hesitantly. “Like I could start over.”
Peter’s heart ached at the vulnerability in her voice. He didn’t know how to respond to something so raw, so he simply held her tighter. He kissed her temple as he whispered, “You can.”
She shuddered then, a quiet sob escaping her lips. It wasn’t pain—it was release. For the first time in what felt like forever, she let herself feel an emotion other than anger or regret. Her hand moved to cover his where it rested on her hip, her fingers intertwining with his.
“Thank you,” she said simply and quietly.
Peter didn’t respond with words. Instead, he pressed deeper into her, his thrusts becoming firmer but still controlled. The way she responded—the way she clung to him—told him all he needed to know. She didn’t need speeches or promises; she just needed him.
Her nails dug into his shoulder as she arched against him, her body trembling with pleasure once more. “Don’t stop,” she cried out.
Peter nodded, his breath coming in shallow gasps as he fought to maintain control. He wanted this to last, for both their sakes. His hands moved to her waist, supporting her as she leaned back against the viewport once more. The Earth framed her perfectly now, its blue and green hues highlighting the curves of her body.
Gamora’s eyes fluttered shut as she surrendered to the sensation, her head hitting back against the glass. Her lips parted in a silent cry as another wave of pleasure washed over her. Peter held her through it all, his movements steady and unrelenting.
When she finally came down from the high, her breathing uneven, she opened her eyes and looked at him with pure gratitude. “You’re… amazing,” her voice was hoarse but sincere.
Peter shook his head with a small smile, his cheeks flushing at the compliment. “I’m just… me,” he replied simply.
“You are far too modest,” she whispered before pulling him into another kiss, slow and lingering this time. Her hands roamed his back greedily as if trying to memorize every inch of him before this moment ended.
Their rhythm shifted then—slower but no less intense—as though they were trying to savor every second together before reality came crashing back down upon them both. And as he and her moved together amidst a celestial backdrop within starship walls far away from home—he realized there was nowhere else he would rather be than here right now with her… flawed… beautiful… alive.
Peter’s body quaked as the pressure built inside him, a crescendo of sensation that he could no longer hold back. He let out a long low groan as his mind became consumed by her.
“I’m—,” he started, his voice breaking.
“Don’t stop,” she growled, raw with need. Her hips moved with his, grinding against him with a slow desperation that mirrored his own. “Finish it.”
The climax hit him like a meteor streaking through the atmosphere, bright and unrelenting. Every nerve in his body lit up, a cascade of pleasure that left him breathless. His superhuman biology came into full effect, his ejaculate a torrential flood that seemed to have no end. His cum surged into her, filling her in a way that made her shriek, her body bucking violently against his.
For Peter, he felt connected to her in a way that transcended their bodies, as if their souls were intertwining in that moment. The warmth of her skin, the way her muscles clenched around him, the sound of her strained cries—it all fused into a single, overwhelming sensation that left him quivering.
The sheer volume of his cum was staggering. It spilled out of her, dripping down her thighs and pooling beneath them on the floor of the ship. Gamora’s eyes widened in awe. Her body jerked as another orgasm tore through her, less intense but no less powerful. Her arms flailed briefly before she wrapped them around him, holding him tightly as she buried her face in his shoulder.
“Oh fuck—I lov—,” she started, her voice cracking with emotion. She stopped herself, shaking her head slightly as her tears flowed once more. “Sorry… I can’t.”
Peter held her close, his hands stroking her back as she cried softly against him. He didn’t push her to explain, sensing that whatever she felt was too raw to put into words. Instead, he whispered soothingly and gently. “It’s okay.”
Her sobs quieted after a while, leaving them both drained and spent. Gamora’s arms loosened around him, her head resting heavily on his shoulder. Peter could feel the weight of her exhaustion, both physical and emotional. His heart ached for her, but he didn’t know how to comfort her beyond holding her tightly.
They collapsed onto the cot together, their bodies entwined. Gamora’s breathing slowed as she drifted into sleep, her head resting on his chest. Peter stayed awake for a while longer, his fingers idly tracing patterns on her back. He stared at mother Earth, his brain buzzing with wonders he couldn’t quiet.
When he finally closed his eyes, it was with the knowledge that this moment—fleeting and imperfect as it was—would stay with him forever.
---
Peter woke to the soft hum of the ship’s engines, the faint glow of Earth still visible through the viewport. Gamora lay beside him, her green skin cool against him. Soon she would take him back down home in the wanted aliens’ tiny saucer. They would part with a final kiss and half-hearted promises. She would never meet him again. When he would see her again, it would be a her who had never met him.
But that was all in the future. For now he twisted over to hold her still sleeping body close to him. For now, it was all he could do.