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You idiot!
Nebula pulled open the freezer, the lights inside blinking on and illuminating her distraught features.
She retrieved what she'd been looking for- an ice pack- and closed the freezer, casting the kitchen back into darkness, the only light coming from the slithers of moonlight that slipped between the blinds covering the windows.
Faced with the prospect of going back and dealing with the consequences of what she’d just done, Nebula's heart beat so hard she could have sworn it was rattling her ribcage. She'd never had to deal with anything like this before, and the thoughts that were flooding her brain made her feel sick.
He's going to leave you over this.
Three months into your first relationship and you've already fucked it up.
You just have to sabotage everything, don't you?
Moving from the kitchen to the living room, Nebula came to a halt as she started to feel dizzy again, glancing around the room to ground herself and stall for a bit more time.
This was her sixth visit to Jason Quill's house since Peter had moved back to Earth-
And probably your last now.
-and the evidence of the afternoon she'd spent with Peter, his grandpa, and his step-grandma Eva remained on the living room table.
The game of Monopoly they'd started was still on the table (Nebula was losing, but she hadn't gotten too sore about that yet), and the plate that had once held a stack of cinnamon chocolate chip cookies Peter had baked himself (with some help from his grandma) had been left near the board, with only crumbs remaining on it.
She tried not to worry about never getting to finish that game of Monopoly as she crossed over to Peter's bedroom.
Stopping just outside the room, Nebula felt her heart thrashing in her chest. She put an ear to the door and cringed as she heard a faint groan of agony from the other side.
She hated hearing Peter in pain.
She hated it even more knowing she'd done this to him.
Taking a breath, Nebula opened the door. Her gaze immediately landed on the curled-up form of Peter Quill on the end of the bed.
Nebula moved to the side of the bed that Peter was facing away from and sat down, reaching over him and putting the ice pack down in front of him.
"I got some ice for your crotch," she said stiltedly.
Peter grabbed the ice and placed it over the groin area of his pants, grunting in pain at the contact.
Nebula didn’t know what to do. She moved to place a comforting hand on Peter's arm but held back. How mad at her was he? She wished he would say something to her.
The Luphomoid had never been one for comforting others, but she had to get over herself. This was her boyfriend, after all, whose dick she had just kicked in.
"I'm sorry," she whispered, leaning down and pressing a hesitant kiss to his temple. Peter's only response was another grunt. Maybe he couldn't say anything right now? Nebula had no idea how painful a kick like that felt, but she had been taught that if you wanted to incapacitate someone, giving them a firm kick in the crotch was instantly effective.
But how the hell was she supposed to explain herself to him? She still hardly knew what had happened herself.
"I didn't mean to do that," she rested her chin on his shoulder, examining his face: eyes screwed shut, jaw clenched, lips pressed into a thin line…
Finally, he said something.
"I know…" he winced out. His voice was hoarse and high pitched. "Fuck, you got me good."
"Don't talk if it's too hard," Nebula suggested, suddenly wishing she'd done some research on the human male anatomy so she'd know how to help him.
To her confusion, but also slight relief, Peter let out a weak laugh. "Oh, I don't know if it's getting hard again anytime soon."
Frustratingly, Nebula had no idea if he was being serious about that or not.
Or maybe he was telling her that sex was off the table for her now? Not that she even blamed him after she'd just demonstrated the dangers of trying to get intimate with her.
But the kick had been completely unintentional; a result of fight-or-flight. She wanted to have sex with Peter. God knows she'd imagined it enough, even before they'd gotten together. Heck, she was the one who'd brought it up tonight in the first place. So why the hell, when it was finally going to happen, had her body responded like that?
Why had her mind decided to flash back to those times?
Her muscles clenched again even having a cursory thought about it, and her heart picked up its pace. She forced herself back to the present.
"I meant-"
"I know what you meant. And don’t worry, the talking helps, I think," Peter pressed the ice pack a little harder against his groin and whimpered. "Damn, what would it feel like if you had meant to kick me? Feels like one of my dudes is stuck up there."
The imagery unsettled Nebula. She hoped she hadn't permanently damaged the man she loved. Peter finally looked up at her, a weak smirk on his face, but he frowned when he saw Nebula's mortified expression.
"Hey, what's the matter?" God, why was he talking to her like she was the one in pain?
“What do you mean ‘what’s the matter’? You’re hurt. I hurt you!” Saying it out loud made it feel worse.
Peter attempted to roll onto his back, but gave up with a whimper as he tried to move his legs, falling back into his fetal position.
"It was an accident," he reassured her, "this is all new stuff for you and sometimes nerves can get a hold of you."
"This isn't me being nervous!" Nebula snapped, then regretted it instantly. She sat up and held her head in her hands, her left arm making an unpleasant scraping sound against her metal plating from how hard she was grasping it. God, why was she acting like this? Was it the hormones from their almost-encounter still fucking with her?
"What is this then?"
Her heart ached. He sounded so concerned, and that made her feel more guilty. She should be the one comforting him. Not the other way round.
“It doesn’t matter,” she insisted, then kept talking before he could pry any more, “is there anything I can do to help you?”
Peter looked like he wanted to persist in his worrying, but ultimately gave up. He nodded his head in the direction of the door. “Could you bring the trash can over here? I think I might hurl.”
Getting up from the bed, Nebula retrieved the trash can from its place next to the door. While she was up, she also turned off the TV Peter kept on his dresser facing the bed, where the movie they’d been watching before they’d gotten carried away with other things was still paused. The Empire Strikes Back, which he'd been really excited to show her. Another reason she felt guilty for derailing the evening to this point.
Setting the trash can down where Peter could reach it, Nebula sat beside him and began rubbing his back. It was something she'd done many times before when he was going through the worst of his alcoholism; all those times he'd been hunched over a toilet emptying his guts and the only way Nebula felt she could help was to rub gentle circles between his shoulder blades.
They fell into silence after that, the repetitive motion of massaging her boyfriend’s back causing Nebula to drift back into her anxious thoughts. Her worries about Peter being mad and dumping her had been assuaged (and unrealistic, she knew in hindsight) but now they gave way to darker ones.
Would she do this every time they tried to have sex? Get sent into a panic whenever Peter laid his hands on her? What would happen if she went into that state while they were actually in the middle of the act? Would her body even allow them to progress that far?
She normally welcomed the fantasy of her and Peter making love, but at this moment, the thought of it filled her with dread.
"Nebs?"
At the sound of her nickname being spoken, Nebula snapped back to reality, taking a sharp breath like she'd just been holding her head underwater.
Turning to look at Peter, his eyes were full of worry. His voice was, too. "You're shaking, sweetheart, what's going on?"
Nebula removed her organic right hand from Peter's back, bringing it into her lap. Sure enough, when she spread her fingers, her hand shook like a leaf in the wind. Her metal left hand, of course, remained motionless. There was nothing human left in it to channel her anxiety.
"I'm fine," Nebula's voice was harsher than she'd meant it to be, "just focus on vomiting."
Peter looked hurt by her words but did as he was told, shimmying a little closer to the edge of the bed.
She felt sick, too. And unclean. Like she wanted to run to the bathroom and wash off the memories she still felt on her skin.
Her head felt like it was spinning.
"Seriously Nebula, do you wanna talk about-"
"Will you be alright on your own?"
The question was out before Nebula knew it, and it caught both of them by surprise.
Peter's eyes did that thing. That thing where his pupils dilated and made him look like a sad puppy. "What do you mean?" he asked, his voice a whisper.
Nebula reached to take one of his hands in hers, running her thumb comfortingly over his palm. "I need to be by myself for a bit. Would you mind if I slept in the living room?"
Stealing a glimpse back at his face, he looked confused. His lips parted as he tried to search for the right way to respond. "Is that what you want?" he finally asked.
Of course not, Nebula wanted to say. Now more than ever, she wanted to be near him. Lay next to him and feel his comforting presence beside her. But at the same time, her head was swimming and she felt like she needed space to deal with it.
"Yes," she answered him, "just for tonight. But I won't go if you need me here."
He frowned, once again trying to sit up and, with some difficulty, succeeding this time.
"Nebula, I'm not pissed at you, if that's what you're afraid of-"
"It's not that…" her voice dropped to a low whisper. She wanted to tell him everything, but knew if she did… if she told him about the full extents of her torture- the majority of her experiences with the touch of other people- it would disturb him.
She felt Peter's fingers interlocking with hers. "Then please, tell me what it is."
For once, Nebula wished he would say something stupid or tell a dumb joke just to make this situation seem less horrible. But no, he was being serious. He was being the supportive, wonderful, patient partner he'd repeatedly proven himself to be when they were alone.
God, she loved him so much it hurt.
She took a breath.
"I…"
A lump formed in her throat. As she tried to force the words out, images flashed in her mind of scalpels and machinery and restraints and blood and needles and hands and agony and-
"I can't say."
She couldn't look at him anymore. He was in far more pain than her, and it was selfish of her to be acting this way.
Peter's hand released hers.
"Go then," he said with a resigned sigh.
Nebula felt the mattress shift, and when she looked, Peter had sunk back onto the bed, staring at the wall.
She wanted to take it all back. But it was too late, she knew. For some reason she felt annoyed at him for giving up even though he was literally letting her do what she’d wanted. She could never be satisfied, could she?
Without another word, Nebula stood and left the room, glancing at Peter one final time through the gap between the door and its frame before letting it close.
Now alone, Nebula felt like she was floating, but not in the “walking on cloud nine” kind of way. More like in a “my soul is hovering above my body and I’m looking down on myself” way. This happened sometimes when she was reminded of her past. It used to frighten her (it still did a little) but she knew it was just a temporary state. Trying to ground herself, she made her way to the living room.
This was the room in which Nebula had slept the last time she'd come to visit. Before then she had only come to Earth accompanied by the other Guardians and had slept on the ship, but after becoming Peter's girlfriend and coming here on her own, he'd insisted she sleep in the house. But she'd still been too nervous to share a bed with him last time (his most recent visit to Knowhere is when she'd finally felt comfortable enough to start doing that), so Jason had offered her the sofa bed in this room for her to sleep on.
Setting up the sofa, Nebula tried to take steady breaths. Her chest was hurting and she felt dizzy, like at any moment she could faint, and laying down was the only thing that could make the physical pains subside.
Once the bed was fully set up, it hit Nebula just how much she didn't even want to try going to sleep. Her body felt like it was flickering between two points in time, and she quickly sat down, digging her fingers into the couch cushions. The blue woman refocused on her breathing, spending several minutes steadying her heart rate. She wished Peter was here. He'd helped her calm down when she'd had panic attacks before, but she hated letting him see her like this. It was bad enough allowing him to see her vulnerable; it was ten times worse now that her panic had resulted in him getting hurt. Seeing Peter in pain had prevented her from going into a full-blown meltdown, at least. No time for that when the person she loved most was suffering…
As Nebula lay down on the sofa, the tightness in her chest immediately becoming relieved, she glanced at the front door, hoping it wouldn't be too awkward to be here when Jason and Eva got back from their date. And, of course, that they weren't angry with her for almost maiming their grandson. How was she going to explain all of this? Maybe she should just go sleep on the ship? But she didn't want to leave Peter alone in the house in case he did end up being sick and needing her help. At least here she'd be able to hear him if he called for her.
So she made herself as comfortable as she could, deciding against getting a blanket to cover herself with since she was still sweaty. Laying alone in the darkness of the living room, Nebula felt her anxiety pressing down upon her. She closed her eyes, unable to stop replaying what happened in her head.
The movie blared on the TV, the occasional flashing of gunfire and explosions causing the screen to more brightly light up the otherwise dark bedroom.
Nebula and Peter sat on the end of Peter's bed, a bowl of popcorn in between them. Nebula ate a piece, frowning. She wasn't sure what to think of the sugary snack. It didn't taste great, but it wasn't terrible either, and the texture was strange. But she kept eating it, almost absentmindedly. According to Peter, you didn't eat popcorn because it tasted good but because it added to the atmosphere that came with watching an epic movie. Human traditions continued to baffle her.
But Nebula was having trouble focusing on the movie.
Last night she'd been fine, sitting down with Peter so he could show her A New Hope- the first movie of a trilogy from his childhood he'd been dying to show her. He'd excitedly babbled with stars in his eyes about how the characters went on cool space adventures just like them and battled an evil empire. She'd been interested and even ended up really liking the movie.
Tonight was different though.
Maybe it was because it was her second night of staying at the Quill household and she was more settled-in? Or because yesterday, Jason and Eva had been in the house with them while they hung out in Peter's room. But tonight they were out, leaving the two of them completely alone. With the whole place to themselves for the night…
Nebula's stomach tingled and her mind began to wander. Had this been planned? Did Peter make arrangements with his grandparents to give him some alone time with her, or did they just have date nights regularly? Had Peter thought about this at all, or was it just her who had this on her mind? He seemed too focused on the movie. She should probably be paying attention, too, in case she missed something important.
She shifted in place, rubbing her thighs together a little to try and quell the heat that had started to flicker between them in anticipation of what might happen tonight.
"Oh hell yeah, it's this part!" Peter almost squealed as the film played on. Nebula's lips curved into a little smile as she stared at Peter's face, his eyes wide with nostalgic wonder. After spending so much time with him while he was deep in his depression, she would never get tired of seeing that happy grin of his.
She wondered if he'd look at her like that while she rode him…
Oh for crying out loud.
Focus on the fucking movie.
She glued her eyes to the screen, trying to pay attention to the battle that was going on.
Long gone were the days where she believed she was incapable of feeling physical attraction. When it came to the Terran man, she could turn into a puddle of hormones. Who knew how the hell the stars had aligned to let that happen, let alone to such a strong degree.
Suddenly, she felt a touch upon her thigh and her breath caught in her throat. Glancing down, she saw that Peter was running his hand along it; soft caresses that were doing nothing to help with Nebula’s problems focusing right now. He hadn’t even taken his eyes off the TV. It made sense though; Peter had already discovered over the last few months how sensitive Nebula’s body was to gentle physical contact.
When he took her hand, warmth spread through her; when he held her, she melted in his embrace; when he kissed her, it was like her brain turned to mush. It was all incredibly embarrassing when she thought about it, but while it was happening she couldn’t care less. And on top of all that, Peter was naturally a very tactile person, so it hadn’t taken him long to find out that Nebula responded very positively to the casual intimacy. Shoulder rubs, an arm around her waist, kisses on her neck; she loved it all.
So he’d gotten into the habit of providing her this chaste physical contact. But it had never had this effect on Nebula before. This felt anything but chaste.
Stop it, she told herself, realizing she’d gotten distracted again. Your boyfriend wants to show you a movie he loves. Stop ruining things.
Again, she stared hard at the TV screen, so hard that it probably looked like she was plotting to murder it (she’d been told she had a distinct murder-planning face), but the hand rubbing her thigh continued to steal her attention away. She couldn’t stop thinking about it traveling further inwards and then down between her legs.
She bit her lip hard, hoping the pain would snap her out of it, but instead all it made her do was imagine Peter biting it instead. God, what had gotten into her tonight? She could normally hold herself together so well around Peter, so why was it so hard right now?
“Nebula?”
She blinked and looked up to meet Peter’s gaze. To her dismay, she felt the blood rush to her cheeks.
“What?” she asked, harshly. She hoped it would get Peter to turn his attention away from her.
It did not.
“Your eyes are all glazed over.” He leaned closer to her, and Nebula had to avert her gaze from him.
“How can you even tell?” she asked, knowing how difficult it could be to read her empty black eyes.
Peter smirked. “I’ve spent so long being lost in those eyes that I learned to find my way around them.”
Nebula hated that that line actually made her stomach flutter. He could never know. “That was fucking awful,” she mock-groaned.
The Terran man chuckled. “Yeah it was,” he agreed, then he tilted his head in the direction of the TV. “But seriously, if the movie is boring you, I don’t mind doing something else-”
“Your dumb space movie is fine,” said Nebula, hastily. “I’m just having trouble focusing tonight. Got stuff on my mind.” She was confident she could still push down her desire with enough effort.
“Like what?” Peter asked, and Nebula wasn’t sure why she was surprised. She wanted to tell him ‘nothing’ and just move on with the night, but the words caught in her throat.
Maybe… maybe he wanted this, too? Maybe if she told him what she was feeling, he might even help her out with it?
But that would mean finally doing the thing she’d been dreading having to do for a while now: showing her body to him. All the scars, and the metal built into her, and the marks left behind from wounds and burns and god-knows-what. Sometimes Nebula felt like a walking boner killer. Not to mention how her complete inexperience in this matter might be a hindrance…
But she just wanted him so badly right now. Her body screamed at her to just let it happen, her issues be damned.
Her chest tightened around her racing heart. She could still tell him that everything was fine if she wanted to…
Swallowing to relieve her dry throat, Nebula answered his question.
“You.”
She locked eyes with him, hoping he could read her eyes well enough to understand what she meant, and by the way his pupils dilated, her message was received. His lips parted and he blinked, surprised.
Looking at him suddenly took too much effort. Nebula put her gaze back on the TV. The characters were in space now, how interesting. God she wished she were in space right now and not here in this bedroom humiliating herself by admitting to her boyfriend that she couldn’t stop thinking about doing him. Space sounded great right about now.
“Oh…”
It was one word. One syllable. But the way he said it, playful and full of heat; it made Nebula’s heart rate triple in speed. Peter then paused the movie, and the silence in the room became deafening.
Her breath caught in her throat as she felt the mattress shift, and then a hand was on her cheek, gently turning her head around until she had no choice but to look at him. Her face burned and she somehow felt naked already. There was a tiny voice in her head mocking her. She used to be a deadly warrior and now here she sat, a blushing mess yearning for the touch of this man she’d accidentally fallen in love with.
Peter examined her face and smiled. Nebula fought back a smile of her own. She never thought someone would look at her face and feel anything other than discomfort. But Peter Quill had always been fucking weird like that.
“I thought so,” his voice was teasing, and Nebula pulled away from his touch to give him a dry glare.
“Oh, really?” she said sarcastically, unsure if she believed him.
He gave her an incredulous look. “Yes, really. Nebs, every time I’ve looked at you tonight you’ve either been staring into space or at my crotch. I don’t exactly have to be Columbo to figure out that you’re horny.”
Nebula kept a straight face, but felt like burying herself in the dirt. She hadn’t even realized he’d noticed her staring. And had she really been looking at his crotch that much?
On the bright side, her embarrassment was doing wonders to smother her lust.
“Horny is an overstatement,” Nebula insisted. “If anything I’m just…” she searched for the right thing to say, “...hot and bothered. It’ll go away in a minute.”
God, she should never be allowed to make any decisions while she was turned on ever again. Now that they were actually talking about it, she was anxious. The part of her that wanted to get physical with Peter was at war with the part of herself that was afraid of that very same thing. At the same time, she feared that if she didn’t go for it now, she'd just keep postponing it. If she wanted to have sex with him, she had to get over her hangups about her body. It was as simple as that.
Plus, she’d been feeling guilty about their arrangement lately. She was all too aware that this long into their relationship, they should be more intimate than they currently were. They’d been officially together for just over three months now, and Nebula had witnessed some relationships run their entire course in that amount of time. Add onto that the extremely long distance nature of their relationship, and Nebula felt like she owed it to Peter to make what little time they could spend together in person worthwhile.
Still aroused, but very unsure of herself, Nebula reached for the TV remote and hit play again.
“Let’s discuss this after the movie,” she said, trying to buy herself more time to get un-horny.
It only took a few seconds for the movie to be paused again. Nebula grunted, giving Peter a hard stare. He had a cocky grin on his face.
“You’re cute when you’re embarrassed.” His voice was low. Gravelly.
Nebula let out a sharp exhale between her teeth. He knew exactly what he was doing to her. It pissed her off as much as it delighted her.
“And you’re annoying, always. Now give me that,” she took the remote back, pressing play again.
Immediately he snatched it back, hitting pause. He looked at the still image on the screen. “Tell me what’s going on in the movie.”
You little bitch, thought Nebula.
“The characters are in this asteroid field because…” she paused, pretending it was for dramatic effect but really it was so she could pull some kind of plausible answer out of her ass. She searched her growing mental encyclopedia of movie tropes she’d been learning while watching Earth stuff with Peter. “...they're looking for something in there that'll take out the Empire.”
Peter made a game show buzzer noise with his mouth. “Incorrect!” he declared, and Nebula bit the inside of her mouth in frustration. “They’re hiding from the Empire in the asteroid field. I knew you weren't paying attention.”
Maybe changing the subject would do the trick?
“Is this movie the reason why you were so excited to fly into that asteroid field? Back when we were fleeing from the Sovereign?”
There was a pause. “I mean can you blame me for wanting to be like Han Solo?” he replied, a little awkwardly, fiddling with the remote in his hands. “Like… look at this dude; he’s a total dreamboat.”
“...are you trying to make me jealous of a movie character?” asked Nebula with an amused smile.
Peter kept his eyes on the screen, pursing his lips in a playful pout. “...is it working?”
Going along with it, Nebula moved the popcorn bowl off the bed so she could scoot closer to him. She placed her hands on his shoulders and leaned in a little closer to his face, waiting until he turned his head back round to look at her.
Wetting her lips, Nebula leaned in until the tip of her nose was brushing Peter’s. She ran her hands slowly down his arms, watching through lidded eyes as Peter’s own eyes closed in anticipation.
With his guard down, Nebula took the remote from his hands.
“No, I could easily beat that pretty boy in a fight for your affection,” she answered nonchalantly, pushing the button to make the movie play again.
This time she was prepared when Peter lunged for the remote again, holding it up in the air out of his reach. Laughing, Peter shoved Nebula backwards onto the bed. Not able to keep herself from smirking now, she stretched her arms out as he went to grab the remote again. As he moved to retrieve it, pinning her arms above her on the bed in the process, he ended up kneeling astride her.
They stopped moving, still giggling like idiots at this frankly childish situation, only for their laughter to fade out as it occurred to the both of them just how they’d ended up. From here, their faces were inches apart, and the way Peter’s expression morphed from one of playfulness to one of sheer desire got Nebula’s blood rushing through her veins all over again.
His grip on her wrists tightened and she felt a sharp sensation in her chest. Was that supposed to happen? Her heart picked up its pace and she suddenly felt very sweaty. This must be the hormones, right?
Looking into Peter’s eyes, so full of love and want, Nebula felt what remained of her resolve crumble, and she gave in.
“Oh, fuck it.”
Wrenching her hands from his grip, Nebula grabbed Peter’s face and pulled him down, kissing him hard.
“Mmph!” his surprised whimper was muffled by the force of Nebula’s lips against his.
She was so caught up in the rush of it all that she didn’t realize Peter was trying to pull away from her. He grabbed hold of her right hand, tugging it away from his face so he could get out of the vice grip she had on his head.
"Metal," he winced as he pulled back from the kiss, pointing to her mechanical hand that was still on his cheek. With a soft gasp, Nebula took it away from his face, cringing when she saw the ridged pattern of her palm indented into his skin.
"Shit! I'm sorry," she ran her metal fingers lightly over the marks, praying he wouldn't be left with any bruising. She needed to learn to control her strength in situations like this.
Thankfully, Peter didn't seem too concerned. "It's no biggie. No harm was done," he glanced aside, looking sheepish, "…the fact that you could crush my skull if you wanted to is way hotter to me than it should be."
It was Nebula's turn to smirk now as she trailed her fingers down his jawline and along the side of his neck. "Are you some kind of masochist, Star-Lord?" Flirtatious heat crackled in her already low and husky voice. The way he shuddered after that was delightful. She didn't know if it was her voice or her cold metal touch that was doing that to him, but it pleased her either way.
"Of course not…" he trailed off, leaning closer and dropping his voice to a whisper. "But just curious; how accurate was it when people called you the biggest sadist in the galaxy?"
She knew he was just teasing her but all that did was bring to mind images of her past. All the horrific things she'd done in the name of her father.
"I’d rather not talk about that…"
Thankfully he dropped the subject. He picked up the remote, pointing it at the screen and pausing the film one more time. Peter then tossed the remote off the side of the bed with a careless thump as it hit the carpeted floor.
With that, he turned his attention back to Nebula. The way he looked at her sent sparks shooting through her body, setting every single one of her nerves on fire. His voice became like honey, dripping with sweetness.
“We don’t need to say anything else tonight. Just relax and I’ll take care of you…”
When their lips met again, it felt different than usual. Far too often when they kissed, there was a sense of haste; especially back on Knowhere where Nebula was almost always busy. But this time their kisses were slow, almost lazy. They weren't in any rush, just taking their time exploring one another's mouths. The heat that Nebula had felt trying to engulf her all evening swelled within her, taking root just below her stomach and extending tendrils of warmth through her abdomen.
She let out a sound that was halfway between a moan and a sigh as their kisses steadily became more ravenous. She flicked her tongue against his lips and an intoxicating humming noise rumbled in his mouth. To her delight, Peter’s lips parted further and she was able to tease his tongue with her own, trying to coax more of those sounds out of him. She cupped Peter’s face in her hands again, gently this time, and allowed herself to get lost in the feeling of their tongues dancing together.
She melted under Peter's touch as one of his hands began to wander up her body, starting at her hip and working its way up beneath her shirt, across her stomach and to her chest. She shuddered as his fingers left a trail of tingles across her sensitive body, releasing a needy whimper into his mouth.
His hand came to rest upon her sternum, pausing as if to take in the rapid beating of her heart before it moved further upwards, pushing down hard on her breastbone, so forcefully that Nebula was afraid her ribs would break. She tried not to let her breathing become too hard. She willed her heart to stop pounding, fearing that the organ would give out if it kept racing like this.
The metal table she was being held down on was cold against her bare back. Most of her clothes had been removed. Her naked chest was exposed to everyone in the room. She felt embarrassed and wished she could cover herself with her arms. But strong hands held them down hard against the table. Straps stretched across the table, restraining her arms at her sides. She could feel hands on her thighs, forcing her trembling legs to keep still as two more straps crossed over her legs.
She would be stuck in this position until her father declared her sufficiently upgraded. Nebula swore she could see him now, in the very periphery of her vision, observing. All too often he felt less like a person and more like a phantom. A god-like presence condemning her for her mistakes.
People were talking, but Nebula could hardly make out what they were saying through the blood pumping in her ears. Something about an organ that was taking up too much space.
There was more muffled murmuring, and then one of her tormentors loomed over her, scalpel in hand, pressing its blade against the side of her stomach. It barely touched her, but it was cold enough to send a shiver through her entire body. That brief shaking was all that was needed for the blade to pierce her skin. Nebula winced, feeling a hot bead of blood seep through the tiny gash and trickle down her side.
“Nebula…? Are you okay?”
All Nebula could do was shake her head no, over and over again. If she still had her tear ducts, she knew she'd be crying. Thanos never tolerated crying.
The scalpel pierced the soft flesh of Nebula’s belly. She felt her skin being split. Her body thrashed on instinct. Her movement sent the blade deeper into her gut, catching some tissue inside her with a revolting rip. Her hands were bound but still she somehow felt them, one flesh, one metal, covering her mouth to keep herself from screaming. Her father hated it when she screamed during these operations. Sometimes he would make her punishments worse if she was too loud.
“Whoa, hey! Nebula, talk to me!”
More hands were on her body now, trying to keep her still; each touch felt like it stained her. A pair grabbed her hips and forced them down against the table. The one pushing against her breastbone vanished and was replaced with two grasping her sides. It was a lot harder to move at all now.
“Try to breathe slowly! You’re having a panic attack and you need to-”
Terror and adrenaline taking over, Nebula began trying to kick her bonds off. To her surprise, her right leg flew up with ease.
There was a loud wince of pain and Nebula was suddenly back in the present.
At first, she wasn't sure where she was. The shift between the hard table she swore she'd been on being replaced with a soft mattress should have been comforting but instead it somehow made her feel like she was falling. This abrupt vertigo made bile rise up her throat. Her ears were ringing and her limbs felt numb.
Upon realizing she was no longer restrained, Nebula brought her knees up to her chest, hugging them like a scared child. She felt like a child at that moment. A pathetic, broken child who by all means should not still be alive but was because of science and machinery and a father who seemed to only prolong her life to torment her longer. She didn't understand why he kept trying to "improve" her when nothing he did ever made her good enough. Why was she still alive? Why couldn't he just kill her instead?
A long groan of agony caused the storm in Nebula's ears to vanish, the sound coming through clearly.
Peter!
With a gasp, she unfurled herself from her fetal position and sat up fast, which she immediately regretted when her vision swam. The corners of her sight became dark and blurred, but she fought it back. She couldn't pass out now. Peter was hurt. He needed her help.
Nebula’s eyes fell upon the form of her lover, curled up similarly to the way she had been. Her brain rushed to make sense of what was happening. It didn't take long for her to conclude that her kicking out and Peter laying here in pain were connected. Both his hands were over his crotch and he could do nothing but lay there while choking out strained groans. Nebula felt mortified knowing that she’d just hurt him in his most sensitive place.
"Peter…" her voice trembled and she felt anger burn within her at that, willing herself to get a grip.
She failed miserably.
“I’m sorry! I don’t know how- I just- fuck! I didn’t know what I was doing- no, I- when you-”
Her own babbling was pissing her off. How the fuck was she supposed to explain herself? There was no excuse for hurting him like this after he let himself be vulnerable with her.
“I’m getting you some ice,” the words spilled from Nebula’s mouth in a hurry, and in less than three seconds she’d dashed out of the bedroom, her racing thoughts condemning her.
Just like she’d expected, Nebula didn’t fall asleep.
She wasn’t sure how much time had passed since she’d laid down in the living room, and couldn’t be bothered to check, but it was long enough for her panic attack to have subsided. Now that it was over and her body had exited fight-or-flight, she just felt numb.
The worried thoughts persisted though, and she couldn’t keep herself from indulging them.
Why had she reacted like that to his touch? She normally loved it when Peter touched her. She’d never felt any discomfort with the contact until her mind connected it to those other times people had laid their hands on her. But this was completely different. Peter’s touch was always loving and gentle, and she’d asked for it, so why the hell did she associate it with all those times her body was touched against her will? Was it because she felt less in-control?
She supposed bodily autonomy was still relatively new to her…
It was still no excuse. Even now, her past was hurting her and now she’d allowed it to hurt the person she loved the most as well.
Sighing, Nebula rolled onto her back, staring straight up at the ceiling. She’d make this up to him somehow. Maybe this was a one-time thing, and the next time they tried having sex, she’d be fine…?
…But with what Peter said earlier about him not being able to get hard for a while… she must have ruined their chances to have sex for the whole duration of her stay. In a few days she would be going back to Knowhere, and it would be a while before the two saw each other in-person again.
She grimaced, feeling frustrated. It had to happen soon. Surely he would only wait so long before he realized there were plenty of other, less broken people on this planet that could provide him with what she'd failed to give him tonight. She had to prove to him that he didn’t make a mistake by starting this relationship with her. That she was able to satisfy him. That she wouldn't fly off the handle again. That she was good enough.
It was almost funny how she'd been so excited at the prospect of making love to Peter, but now the thought of even trying again made her feel sick. She didn't want to hurt him again. And she didn't want to go back to that horrible place from her past…
Maybe it just wasn't possible for her to have that kind of relationship?
The sudden sound of shuffling footsteps pulled Nebula from her brooding. She sat up, eyes on the door to the dining room.
"...Peter?" she called out quietly.
The man limped into view in the doorway, his body bent at a forty-five degree angle. He leant on the doorframe, taking a breath before looking over at her with a flirtatious tilt of his head.
"Hey," he said, flashing her a smile. That alone was enough to bring her own smile back, if only a weak one.
Then she realized that he probably shouldn't be moving around right now. Getting up and heading over to him, she took his arm, hooking it around her shoulder.
"What the hell are you doing? You should be resting," she scolded him.
Peter looked at her with those ridiculous puppy dog eyes of his. "I missed you."
Her heart skipped. Why did he have to be so damn charming? She focused on leading him carefully to the sofa bed.
"I haven't been gone long," she muttered.
"It's been forty minutes," Peter replied, like that disproved what she'd said.
"So? You take showers longer than that sometimes," she released Peter from her hold so he could sit on the edge of the bed, “thanks for my fucked-up water bill, by the way.”
Peter grunted as he lifted his legs onto the bed and lay on his back. “You’re the leader of Knowhere, I think you can afford to use a little extra water.” He suddenly smirked. “You can join me next time, if you want. That’ll save water.”
Nebula’s face softened, surprised by his words.
He noticed. “Or not, if you aren’t comfortable with-”
“Next time?”
“Yeah,” he was so nonchalant, “next time I visit Knowhere.”
She realized then that he hadn’t even thought about ending things with her, and her chest swelled with relief.
“Of course,” she said, putting on a straight face. He never needed to know she’d doubted him.
He grinned, folding his arms behind his head. “So that’s a promise then?”
It hit her what he thought she’d responded to.
“No! Not that…” she watched Peter’s face fall and could have kicked herself. She’d just been thinking about how she’d make things up to him, after all. “I’m just confused why you’d want that. After what I just did.”
His frown remaining, Peter propped himself up with his arms and scooted himself to the other side of the sofa bed. He patted the spot where he had just been. “C’mere please?”
She looked directly down at him when she rolled her eyes, wanting to make it perfectly clear even in the dimness of the room that she definitely did not want to do this and hadn’t been wanting to feel him at her side ever since she left him in his room.
Nebula lay down, also on her back, and the way they were now reminded her of when they’d stargazed in Jason Quill’s backyard together one time before they’d started their relationship. It had been a nice night, marred only by the damp grass sending chills along their backs, and the weight of then-unspoken words hanging over them like a heavy fog.
She felt a hand covering hers and tipped her head to the side to see Peter staring at her with so much warmth. "Do you wanna talk about what happened?" he asked with what might have been the gentlest tone she had ever heard from the normally reckless man.
Nebula considered it, but as soon as she cast her memory back to that dark room on the ship, it made her throat go dry.
"No," she answered simply, and rolled onto her side, facing away from him.
Peter shifted and she felt the mattress beneath her dip a little. "Is it okay if I touch you?"
She sighed, breath trembling as she held back a sob. He'd helped her through her panic attacks before and each time it had stunned her how sweet and caring he was. Always asking permission to touch her and respecting her when she said no. After a lifetime of people mangling her body without a single concern for her, to be treated so respectfully while in such a state… it was overwhelming to say the least.
"I'm fine now, Peter," was all she replied.
He hesitated. "So is that a yes or-"
"Yes," said Nebula, probably a bit too harshly. Just because she loved it when he treated her this way, didn't mean she was used to accepting it.
A strong arm draped over her, and Peter moved closer until he was pressing against her back. Instantly, the warmth of his embrace made Nebula feel so much safer, and tension that she hadn't even realized she was still holding practically melted off her body.
She exhaled and focused on the sensations she was feeling as he held her. His heart beating against her back, a reminder that her steel spine caused him no discomfort when they cuddled like this. His soft lips pressed against the back of her head; so much of her head was made up of unfeeling metal, but he'd memorized the spot at the base of her skull that made her shiver when he kissed it. His fingers tracing shapes across her stomach, running over scars and able to feel them through her shirt for sure. But he wasn't repulsed by them.
“How’s your dick?” she asked bluntly, and Peter chuckled.
“Fuckin’ sore,” he answered.
“I’m sorry." said Nebula, again.
Peter kissed that spot again, relishing in the little shudder it sent Nebula into. God, if this is how she responded to a simple little kiss on her head, how was she going to react when he-
Nebula slammed the metaphorical breaks on that line of thinking before it got too lewd. This was exactly what had gotten them into this mess in the first place!
She kept talking to distract herself. “Do you think you need to see a doctor?”
“I’ll, uh… see how it feels in the morning,” he insisted, sounding nervous. Nebula wondered if he was afraid of going to the doctor.
“I’ve got some Med-Paks on the ship if you’d rather-
“Nope. Not putting a Med-Pak on my junk,” Peter seemed oddly adamant about that. He shuddered. “Don’t wanna risk it malfunctioning and snapping my dick in half."
Nebula thought this was insane. “Why would it do that?”
“I dunno. It’s just a fear of mine,” his tone suddenly changed, becoming more directed, “and our fears are all valid even if they’re a little silly.”
Wait a second…
“Your stupid penis-breaking fear is nothing like my fear,” the cyborg muttered.
A brief silence passed. Peter sighed, his warm breath washing over the top of her head. “Look, I’m just trying to tell you that it’s okay,” the arm he’d flung over her vanished and he used it to prop himself up. He leaned over Nebula so he could get a better look at her face. She didn’t meet his gaze. “It’s okay to be afraid of sex. It’s normal, I promise; being that vulnerable with another person can be scary as hell. And if I’d known, I would have slowed things down a little.”
At that, Nebula did turn her head to look at him, baffled. “Peter, I’m not afraid of sex. You said it yourself, I was eye-fucking you all night. I’m the one who started all this.”
“Well something sent you into a panic attack,” he argued, "and I wanna know what it was so I don't set you off again."
Nebula's chest was hurting again, but in a different way than before.
He blames himself…
Rolling back over so she was looking right up at him, she felt her heart pounding again. She was afraid of how he'd respond to the truth. The truth that their intimacy had brought back memories of the worst moments of her life.
How the hell was she supposed to explain that she feared the exact thing she desired? She didn’t even understand it herself.
"It wasn't your fault," she began, wanting to set the record straight. "I just… Peter, you see what's been done to my body." She ran her right hand along her left arm. "For my whole life, the only times people touched me were to do things like this. To cut me apart, and shove machinery inside of me."
Peter looked at her face for a long moment; long enough for Nebula to feel discomfort and turn her head to the side again. Through the way the mattress moved under her, she could feel him lay back down at her side.
"You know I'd never hurt you like that, right?" he asked sadly.
"Of course I know," she felt the heat of his body at her side and wanted to lean into it, but it was like something was holding her back. "I really do know. In my head, at least. But I guess… my body doesn't?" she didn't know how else to describe it. “I like it when you touch me, but back then, when you were on top of me and pinning me down… it reminded me too much of when I’d be operated on. It felt like I was there, reliving it again. That's why I…" unable to finish her sentence, she simply nodded in the direction of Peter's beaten crotch.
Nebula hated admitting to this. She didn’t want Peter to blame himself any more. She hated admitting to this weakness.
She heard him exhale sharply, something she’d often heard him do when he was ticked off, and her muscles tightened. Finally, she rolled over, and the look on her boyfriend’s face said it all. His lips pressed tight together, and his jaw was clenched. He was furious.
“You’re angry…” she said with resignation. She didn’t blame him. Most people wouldn’t like to be saddled with a lover like her, who couldn’t provide them the intimacy that they wanted.
“Yeah, I’m angry,” Peter said with a fire to his voice. Not the sensual kind that he’d had earlier though; the kind of fire that if stoked could burn down a village. “I’m angry at the purple shitfuck who did this to you.”
Another much heavier silence fell over the couple. Nebula felt overwhelmed, like if she even tried to say anything she would break.
“Nebula…” his eyes were glossy, like he was holding back tears. He looked her in the eyes and she felt his hand travel down her arm and take gentle hold of hers. “I never want you to feel like that ever again.”
Her breath hitched, and she felt like she was dangerously close to sobbing. In order to hide her face, and because she just wanted to be closer to him, Nebula scooched nearer and rested her head on his bicep, burying her face in his chest. She slung her metallic arm over him and ever-so-gently hugged him. She breathed in his scent (leather, and cinnamon from the cookies he’d made earlier) and lost herself in his warmth.
He stiffened. “A-are you sure you’re okay with this right now? I don’t wanna touch you if you’re still-”
“Peter, I said I was fine now,” she squeezed him a little tighter. “Just… I want this.”
After a moment of hesitation, Peter’s arm wrapped around her again, and he hummed contentedly as Nebula snuggled against him. He began rubbing his hand soothingly up and down her spine. What had she done to deserve this stupid, wonderful man?
“We’ll figure out how to deal with this,” he promised her, “no matter how long it takes.”
Nebula still couldn’t entirely purge the doubt from her mind. “You don’t care that we haven’t had sex yet? We should have by now.”
She felt Peter chuckle. “Who the hell told you that?”
“...magazines,” Nebula mumbled, suddenly realizing how stupid this sounded.
He chuckled again, harder, and she lightly smacked him in the shoulder.
“Shut up, I don’t know what I’m doing, and I’d sooner hang myself than ask any of our friends for advice about this,” the Luphomoid rushed out an excuse.
“Hey, I ain’t judging you,” Peter still had laughter in his voice, “I’m just telling you that all those articles are bullshit. There’s no set time to do anything in a relationship. Every couple is different. And we’re long-distance, so of course things are gonna take longer for us.”
His words comforted her, and Nebula gave a hum of agreement, caressing the part of his arm she’d smacked in case she’d accidentally hit it too hard. “I guess you’re right.”
“I know I’m right. Nebs, we’re gonna go as slow as you need to. And until you feel comfortable enough to try again, I’ve got my hands and the internet,” he smirked, then began to sound cocky, “and I’m pretty frickin' good with my hands, if I say so myself. Can’t wait to prove it to you someday.”
Nebula shivered again. He was so tempting…
He placed a kiss on the top of her head. “I wanna be with you, Nebula,” he said softly, his sincerity causing more emotions to well up inside her. It used to be that he'd only say such things to her in her most secret daydreams, and now it was real. A sob escaped her and she quickly muffled it against the fabric of Peter's shirt. “I love all the time I spend with you, no matter what we’re doing. Just sitting around playing board games with you and my grandparents is some of the most fun I’ve had in years. We don’t need to have sex for our relationship to be worth something. Hell, we never have to have sex if that’s not your style-”
“I want to,” Nebula pulled away from him just enough to be able to look into his eyes. Her words were so instinctive that there was no doubting it was the truth. Her cheeks burned, and she was grateful that it was too dark to see how flushed she was. “I want you, you… sexy dipshit.”
Peter smiled broadly. “I want you too, you beautiful bitch.”
They laid with their foreheads pressed together for a while, just basking in the peacefulness of the moment. Nebula felt like a huge weight had been lifted from her.
“Still sorry about your dick though,” she muttered.
“It’s fine,” Peter stroked the back of her head, “you’re not the first person to kick me in the stones. I used to be a douchebag; it happened more times than you know.”
“Used to?” she teased.
“Woman, I've said a lot of nice things tonight; I think my douchebag license has officially been revoked.”
Nebula snickered, unable to disagree. Peter Quill was a big sweetheart despite his former womanizing ways. Sometimes she found it hard to believe he’d ever been like that.
"Is there anything I can do to help with… that?” she looked down at his crotch, sure that Peter would know better how to heal aggravated testicles than she did.
He paused, letting out a long, thoughtful hum. “...you could kiss it better,” he finally responded with a smirk.
“Really?” Nebula could tell that he was kidding, but she was feeling daring. She removed herself from their embrace and kneeled over him, hand on the waistband of his pants.
“Wh-whoa, Nebula! Don’t actually, please. It was a joke!” She looked up at him, a smidge of disappointment on her face. “I think getting hard right now would suck- uh, I mean, hurt.”
Oh, he’d misunderstood what she was doing. Or had she misunderstood him? She wasn’t sure anymore. “If you get hard from me just kissing your dick, then you’ve got bigger problems,” she peered at him through lowered eyelids, hoping that the bedroom eyes she had definitely not practiced in the mirror were having some effect on him. “How are you gonna react when I’m actually going down on you?”
His eyes widened in response, boosting Nebula’s ego a little, but he quickly looked away like he was embarrassed. “It’s been a while since anyone touched it but me, okay…”
She was having fun teasing him, so she returned to her original position, laying down facing him. Dropping her voice to a sultry husk, she ran her metal hand down his chest. “Do you think about me? When you touch yourself?”
“Well, duh. All the time,” he replied without missing a beat. Nebula felt flattered that she was able to excite him like that. In fact, just laying here and talking about this stuff with him was pretty exciting on its own. “I got a secret to tell ya if you promise not to judge.”
Nebula scoffed. “You know I can’t promise that."
“Yeah, figured it was a long shot. I’ll tell you anyway ‘cause I’m feeling generous,” as he spoke, his hand wandered along the side of her body. These simple yet intimate touches had no negative effect on her. “I fantasized about you a lot before we got together.”
She wasn’t too surprised by that. He’d told her how he’d realized his feelings for her over the course of his first few months on Earth, and Nebula knew from personal experience that coming to terms with unexpected attraction involved a lot of exploration like that.
“Oh no,” she deadpanned, “if we weren’t already going to hell, we are now.”
Peter’s hand continued to wander, lowering dangerously close to her rear before changing direction, traveling up along her spine. “I even did it a couple of times before I left Knowhere.”
That caught Nebula off-guard.
“Before you even had feelings for me?”
“That’s the thing… I think I’ve been into you for longer than I thought. I felt gross thinking about you like that though- not because you’re gross, obviously, but because I wasn’t ready to move on.” He sounded relieved to get that off his chest. “So yeah. Next time you feel bad about 'taking too long’ or whatever, remember that it took me like a year and a half of jacking it to you to even admit I had it bad for you.”
The Luphomoid’s cheeks must have been a deep blue by this point. “That… is a long time.”
She was treading dangerous ground here, but she had to know…
“What kinds of things did you imagine me-”
“Nebs, you’re killing me here! I’m trying not to pop a boner right now,” he was smiling but he sounded desperate so she shut up. “I’ll tell you some other time.”
She nodded, giving his cheek what she hoped was a comforting stroke with her prosthetic. It was wild to her that he’d been imagining such things about her at the same time she’d been imagining those exact things about him. She couldn’t help but wonder what might have happened if he’d found out about her feelings earlier, or vice versa. But that was all meaningless now; Nebula was perfectly happy with the way things had turned out for them. Still, it only felt right to tell him.
“I fantasized about you a lot before you left Knowhere, too.”
“Can’t blame you. I’m sexy as hell.”
She playfully punched his chest in response, then decided to leave the poor man alone for now. They could resume this topic once he was feeling better. Resting her head against his chest once more, Nebula listened to his rapid heartbeat, spending several minutes just laying there listening to it slow to a more neutral pace.
“Hey,” he murmured, and she tipped her head back to meet his eyes, “is there anything I can do for you right now?”
There was only one thing she wanted. With a small affirmative nod, Nebula closed the space between them so she could capture his lips.
In the darkness of the room, they kissed. No lust, no rush. Just lips massaging lips, their movements gradually becoming lazier until it could barely be described as kissing at all. Simply smiling against each other's lips.
“I love you,” Nebula whispered.
“I know.” Peter whispered back.
Confused by that response, Nebula pulled away, raising an eyebrow. Peter let out a chuckle.
“Now, if someone hadn’t interrupted our movie night, you would understand that reference.”
Nebula groaned, shoving him away and rolling onto her back. She regretted it when he let out a grunt of pain, but he was still laughing through it.
Maybe tonight could still be salvaged…?
“Are you actually tired?” asked Nebula.
Peter shook his head. “Nah. You?”
“Me neither. Your grandparents aren’t back yet so it can’t be that late. We could go and finish the movie if you want.”
The Terran man’s face could have lit up the room. “Sure!” he began to sit up. “You go on ahead. It might take me a couple minutes to make it there,” he groaned as he moved his body into a sitting position.
Frowning at the sorry state of her boyfriend, Nebula got up and moved around to his side of the sofa bed. She leaned down. “Put your arms around me,” she ordered.
Doing as he was told, Peter hooked his arms around the blue woman’s neck. Nebula tucked one of her arms under his knees and the other around his back, and with hardly any effort, lifted him into her arms.
“W-wow,” he breathed, “my girlfriend is strong as fuck!”
“I’ve carried you like this before,” Nebula stated matter-of-factly, “you were always too drunk to remember.”
He grinned wide. “Drunk Me was missing out. This is kinda fun. And hot,” he added that last part with a roguish smile. Nebula fought back her own smirk as she started carrying Peter in the direction of his room. She felt his grip around her increase. “Look at my handsome prince Nebula, come to take me down to the balls,” he said as he leaned up, giving her an exaggerated sloppy kiss on the cheek.
She groaned at both the kiss and his oh-so-clever wordplay, and made a show out of wiping her cheek on her shoulder. “I could drop you if I wanted to, y’know?” she threatened, trying to ignore the blissful butterflies she got in her stomach when Peter had called her handsome.
Peter looked at her with eyes full of trust. “I know you won’t.”
She finally let her smile free, dipping her head down to give him another kiss. “No, I won’t.”