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“Why isn't it working on you?” Gamora pants as her eyes rake over Nebula’s skin. It was a heated, hungry look, one Nebula has rarely seen on her sister, and certainly not in a long while. Gamora’s green skin is covered in sweat and pink, glittery pollen, that made her look like a far off star, turning her flushed and shiny. Nebula wonders what it'd be like to touch her, smear the pollen in her skin, see how deep she can get it inside them both, but she keeps her distance.
Mantis was close enough for them both.
Mantis, a whole head shorter than Gamora, had buried her mouth against her throat, doing what Nebula presumed was kissing but sounded like wet sucking noises. She has her arms wrapped around Gamora, crushing her close to her, like she can't bear to be parted, and the bare skin of her arms, her face, were covered in the same glittering pink pollen.
Nebula stares at her cybernetic arm‒‒there are pink glittering spores on the surface of her artificial skin. She blows it off. Cocks her head to the side, and lets out a slow practiced breath.
“I'm not organic enough,” Nebula replies at last. She supposes she should feel grateful for once, for having so much of her body ripped out, hacked off, augmented and enhanced until plants no longer recognized her as anything alive‒‒but she didn't feel anything about it.
Gamora’s eyes were raw and wide and dark, trying to formulate words but when she opens her mouth, a low moan comes out instead; Mantis slid a hand under her shirt, mouth still latched to her throat. It looked like she was playing with a nipple, or perhaps just squeezing, as if that alone could get anyone off, but it didn't seem to matter. For a moment, Gamora isn't even present, her stare unseeing and glassy, just raw lust, consuming them both. It was a glorious and terrible spectacle.
Nebula should help. That's what sisters do, right? Help. From what she remembered, this type of pollen was only dangerous if it was unconsummated‒‒better to give in than to fight it.
On the right track, then. The bug girl is not careful with Gamora‒‒too enthusiastic, not used to this feeling, leaving dark marks blooming on her throat, squeezing her breast a little too hard. Gamora moans, head thrown back, like she doesn't mind at all. Her eyes snap open and find Nebula’s gaze, who remains oddly frozen and transfixed, debating what to do with them. It was a bit delightful, to see Gamora, of all people, teetering on the edge of losing herself to her base instincts. Always so careful and controlled and disciplined, now undone.
“You should go,” Gamora says. An arm snakes around Mantis’s back, holding her close, possessively. Something about the gesture brought a snarl to Nebula’s lips.
Nevermind. Not delightful.
Mantis’s head snaps back to Nebula, turning around, her wide onyx black stare pinning her down. Nebula has never seen such intensity on the bug girl. She never thought much of her at all.
“Stay,” she pleads, her antennae standing straight up, rigid. She pulls herself away from Gamora‒‒who gasps like she was out of oxygen, reaching out instinctively for the girl before pulling her own hand back‒‒and takes one step, then two towards Nebula. She outstretches her hand to stroke Nebula’s face. Nebula instinctively catches her by the wrist, don't do that on her lips when‒‒
Heat floods her body, firing her up from the inside, organic and inorganic alike, punching all breath out of her. Shockwaves of warmth and desire and a burning delicious need hits her. Her cunt ached, suddenly slick and hot between her legs, fluttering and twitching for contact, and for a moment she wasn't anything but a bundle of desperate nerves, and‒‒
Nebula gasps and rips her hand away. Immediately, she falls to her knees, hands hugging around her body, as if she can will the desire back inside her. She takes one ragged breath then another; the loss of contact with Mantis deadened the sudden wave of desire but it was still there, her skin hypersensitive‒‒the parts that were skin anyway‒‒eager to fuck and be fucked.
Foolish, she admonishes herself; the bug girl is an empath, she knows this. Nebula should have never touched her, she knows better, weak, look how weak they've made you.
Mantis stands above her, and reaches for her head.
Gamora grabs her, arms wrapping around her from behind, and tugs her down on top of her. They fall backwards to the ground in a graceless, inelegant movement. It'd be funny, but Gamora immediately goes for Mantis’s vest, zipping it down until her small breasts were fully exposed, Mantis gasping as cold air hits her and Gamora cups one of her breasts, before moving on. Then Gamora goes for her trousers‒‒delicate, shiny black and green things, covered in pink glittering pollen‒‒and roughly shoves them down off her body as well. It takes a few times for them to rip entirely, and Nebula could smell Mantis now, the hot musky scent of her cunt.
Nebula takes a moment to gasp, as if she's been holding her breath, as if she couldn't breathe, deprived of oxygen but all she smells is that. The sight of Mantis with her clothes half ripped off, still hanging off her body, somehow was filthier than if she was just naked, and almost overwhelming.
Mantis rests on top of Gamora, her back to her front, the two of them on the flower garden floor. Ruthlessly, Gamora spreads her legs, entangling their feet together so they move together, and shoves her fingers between her legs without any preamble.
Nebula doesn't want to look too closely, doesn't want to notice any details, keeps her eyes cautiously averted as if she can shield herself from the display.
Mantis cries out to the sky. There are soft squelching noises and little breathy moans. It was rough and furious and practical, the way Gamora worked her hand‒‒and Mantis loved it, judging from her reaction. Mantis undulates on top of her, her hips bucking into her hand. She turns her head back, trying to reach Gamora’s face, searching for her lips.
Nebula resists the urge to shove her hands down between her legs, to join them in their graceless rutting.
Gamora lifts her head up to gaze at her. Her eyes are all dark and more than anything, her sister looking at her like that fixes Nebula in her place.
There was a time where all she wanted was her sister’s undivided attention. Where she took that attention in combat and blood and pain.
“Go,” Gamora says, “get help,” and kisses Mantis, turning her head to her, mouth slick and licking in. It's not an easy kiss, rough, her hold on Mantis possessive. The angle is all wrong. They are hungry for each other anyway.
The little bug girl squirms and arches and makes muffled ah ah ah sounds with each twitch of her fingers.
A familiar anger boils in Nebula’s belly.
“Get help,” she snarls, low and furious. “You mean get Quill? I'm sure he'd love to roll around in the dirt with you two.”
Gamora breaks the kiss. “Nebula, what?”
Mantis, caught between them, whines.
It's stupid to feel jealous about this.
Nebula heaves a low sigh, her anger burning alongside arousal, interlocking with one another. “Nothing,” she says, but she takes a step closer. “You'll be fine; you'll fuck it out of your system. There are worse people for Mantis to lose her virginity to. Just let nature take its‒‒”
Nebula gasps and nearly sobs, swaying, falling to her knees before them. Mantis had reached out and run her hand alongside Nebula’s ankle‒‒whether to bring her down or share the lust within her with Nebula as well, she doesn't know but it was a dirty fucking trick, that she didn't expect from the cute little bug girl, but desires makes monsters of them all.
“Oh,” Mantis moans, running her hand down Nebula’s back now that she's closer. Her eyes are wide and dark and fill with tears. “Oh, you love her.”
Gamora’s hand between her legs stills as she gazes at Nebula. Her lip is between her teeth, biting down hard. Pain and blood is good for grounding, Nebula remembers, but all she can think about is how beautiful Gamora and Mantis look, tangled together.
“Stop,” Nebula manages to hiss, but it's getting harder to think, to straighten one thought from another. Her mind should be clearer than theirs‒‒her metal plates, the tataninum alloys, the neural transmitters and circuit wiring instead of neurons‒‒they're supposed to make her stronger, but Mantis undoes all that, sex and lust and warmth and embarrassment hitting Nebula with enough force to make her weak, make her weep, make her cry out for more, open her legs and beg for something between them. Mantis is bleeding into her, her organic wave patterns, her empathy, spilling out. “Don't say that.”
“You're embarrassing her,” Gamora says. Her voice is husky. Her mouth is all teeth, sharp and vicious. “Poor Nebula.”
“Shut up,” Nebula snaps and lunges for her. Over Mantis’ writhing body, Nebula kisses her sister, hard on the mouth. She bites down and Gamora leans into the hard biting kiss, taking whatever Nebula has to offer.
It's Mantis that pulls them apart, pushing Nebula away by her shoulders, only to kiss her as well. Her mouth is different than her sister’s, sloppy and eager, moaning into Nebula. She tastes like Gamora’s skin and sweat and something sweeter, lighting up her insides. Her hands are soft on Nebula’s shoulders, her antennae alight and bright. Please she says into her mouth, please.
Nebula softens, just a little.
She pulls away, licking Mantis off her lips, swallowing down some pink glittering pollen. It still won't work‒‒it was Mantis’ hands that were arousing her, not the plant spores. Nebula wasn't sure if she disliked it anymore.
Nebula runs her hands down her soft breasts, her dark nipples, then her skinny bare thighs, and takes a look between her legs. What she thought was pubic hair is actually fine dark tendrils, similar but not quite like her antennae; they gently sway and wriggle, twitching‒‒with excitement, Nebula realizes. Mantis has an opening between her legs, one that was slick and shiny, where Gamora had her fingers in, but it seems to unfurl, open up, like a flower, rather than being perpetually splayed open at all times. She has no clitoris and Nebula wonders if she's all nerve endings.
Nebula runs a curious hand over the tendrils. They're very soft; they feel so fragile. Almost too fragile for someone like her to touch.
Mantis jerks up, moaning.
Gamora gasps, biting her tongue on it. She feels it too, that rush of pleasure, through their shared physical contact.
Nebula feels it as well, the sensation shaking through her belly and down her spine‒‒that should be impossible, her spine was mostly mechanical and tech these days. They could all feel each other's recursive, rebounding pleasure, like a filthy feedback loop.
“I'm very sensitive down there,” Mantis explains, gasping out her words. “Very.”
Nebula cocks her head. “You're not gonna lay eggs or something, are you?”
“Don't be silly,” she says. “You're not the right species.”
Nebula considers this. Gamora was nuzzling the bare skin of Mantis’ shoulder, biting softly and licking the bruises.
Nebula nods and splays both their legs apart, Gamora and Mantis both. She hauls Mantis to her her ass in the dirt, away from Gamora. Mantis lets out a cute yelp.
“Take your clothes off,” she orders Gamora‒‒who didn't argue for once in her life‒‒and turns back to Mantis, who was gazing at her with wide adoring eyes, who wouldn't stop touching her face, can't stop sharing her pleasure with anyone who'd allow it.
Nebula offers her a feral smile.
“We’re going to ravish you,” Nebula declares‒‒she glances at Gamora, who nods back with a similar grin. Nebula can't remember the last time they smiled at each other. Gamora was fully naked and gorgeous, and so slick she could smell it.
“Oh good,” Mantis moans‒‒a sweet sound, her wide eyes guileless, mouth half parted, somehow both virginal and filthy. “I've always wanted to be ravished.”