Chapter Text
By the time Peter had flown the Milano back into her place, secured the ship, made it up the stairs and opened the secret door, Ronan and his subordinates had already arrived. They were waiting for him, obviously.
“Where is the Orb?”, Ronan asked, and Peter grabbed into his jacket to get the two halves out of the pocket. He carefully set them on Ronan’s desk. When he was done, he grabbed the water bottle on the counter and gulped it halfway down. “Will you finally tell me what that thing is?”, he then asked. “Everyone’s freaking out about it and I don’t even have the slightest idea, why.” He sighed, looking at the Accuser out of these sad green eyes Ronan hated in way. That gaze always told of his lover’s weakness, the fact he was as unfitting for a Kree Warlord as one could get. And while he had accepted Peter as such, that didn’t mean any other Kree ever would. However; they had other occurrences to discuss right now.
“And… uhm…” The Terran hesitated for a second, before going on. “I’m Peter, by the way”, he then told the others. “I mean you probably knew already but I didn’t want to be rude, so-” Shut up”, Ronan commanded, making him stop. However; everyone else was very aware talking unbidden to the Accuser would mean being killed for daring to. Whoever this strange man was, he was no Kree. Neither Xandarian, which his skin colour might indicate. And his relationship to the Great Accuser was just as irritating. Master Ronan was supreme, the ultimate leader of their battle forces, one of the most powerful Kree -even more so, considering the last Emperor had died unexpectedly and his son was cycles too young to do anything but sign the documents the supreme leaders of military, industry, politics and science prepared. To be factual, it was these four -Ronan the Accuser, Maganot Harazock, Gabor the Burning and Kamuku Metalfist- who basically commanded the Empire at this point. Until he was older -at least of age- the son of Emperor The Shining would basically do nothing but sign their decisions.
Which lead back to the original question: Who was this man? He had dared to talk to the mighty Accuser in the most insulting manner, making him peasant; yet Master Ronan had punished Vehenor severely once he had acted out on that, attempting to punish the man as to save Master Ronan the hassle.
The Great Accuser had no life-sharer; a fact most highborn families wished to put to an end by offering their daughters and strengthen their position -as well as Master Ronan’s, who was without heir. And while it wasn’t uncommon -in fact quite normal at least for highborn- to entertain lovers of the same gender (otherwise the outcome might lead to unwished and shameful offspring) they would be slaughtered for being anything but the most obedient entertainments.
“They’re thinking so hard, I can smell their brains smoke”, Peter whispered, watching the ten sorry dudes.
“That explains why I never smell yours.”
Peter blinked. “Did you just… make a joke on my costs? And even a good one! I’m starting to rub off on you!” He couldn’t supress a giggle, before falling silent again. For a moment, Ronan watched him quietly. Peter was weak, disgustingly so, couldn’t keep his mouth shut, unable to follow even the simplest of orders, honourless in the ways he went to battle, hailing from a species so very underdeveloped they wouldn’t run on Hala’s metaphorical radar for a dozen generation at least (if they ever would). However, there was so much else about him, all the things he had never deemed necessary, even misfitting in a life-sharer. In his rank, that position was supposed to be covered with an obedient female that would give birth to a strong heir -and nothing but. Nothing else as required; most even inapt.
And yet… there was no one else in this galaxy who knew him like Peter did, no one else who dared to speak up to him, attempt (and fail) to make him laugh with his twisted sense of humour, scream his name as Ronan pounded into him… or risk his life for a species that wasn’t even his own by flying straight behind Xandar’s defence lines in a Halori spacecraft. And never even once, Peter had asked him to inform anyone of this, had never attempted to climb any rank. He clearly remembered one occasion when his Terran had blinked at him as the matter had come up. “I love you”, he had said, as if Ronan had angered him somehow. “Not your rank or your strength, or anything. Just you, Ronan. And the Accuser is a part of that. The whole you, you know? It’s awesome you can order your minions to blow up planets, but I would love you jut as much if you’d do anything else.”
And the longer he had stayed with Peter in this strange, improper agreement they had, the more he realised what losing all this would mean. And even though the Terran had never really talked about it, Ronan was very aware his lover would ask him to stop their affair once he had signed a life-sharing agreement with whatever noble daughter he saw fit.
And thus, he just… hadn’t.
He was very aware of this; of the weakness, the dishonour this forced upon him, but it had always worked out for them -up until now.
“Before the universe itself appeared”, he finally started explaining, “Before the beginning of everything else, six singularities existed; the matrix of creation.” With a single gesture, a hologram came to life, engulfing the table they stood around in darkness. “Space.” A single shining orb appeared, the first light to break the nothingness. “Reality.” A second light coming to life. “Time, Soul, Mind.” Three more beacons of light, keeping the darkness as bay. “And Power.” When the last orb appeared, the illusion burst apart, forming orbits, galaxies, planets. Peter could only watch in amazement as out of seemingly nothing but chaos and destruction, a universe was formed. “When the universe came to exist, the singularities re-formed themselves. They had scattered all over the universe, but united, could create a new one… or wipe out all of creation. We call them Infinity Stones. And the one you prevented Xandar from seizing today, is the Power Stone.”
The hologram changed again, showing a single gem, surrounded by a purple light. It floated in the air for a moment, before a landscape appeared below. The hologram zoomed out and separated, one part still showing the floating gem, the other one a full-sized planet. Then, the gem suddenly stopped floating, dropping to the ground… and within seconds, the whole planet was seemingly ripped apart from the inside, torn to pieces, until nothing but barren rocks remained, drifting in the nothingness of space and in their midst, a single purple gem glowed. Then, the picture faded.
Peter blinked. Twice. “I had that thing in my mouth.” A third blink. “I had that purple, murderous stone shoved under my fucking tongue! Roro!” Shit, he could feel a slight (or maybe not so slight… yeah, definitely more medium. But like… a big medium) panic setting in. “I would’ve swallowed it down if they had tried to search my mouth, too! This is… I don’t even… Am I dying now? Shit, I’m not ready to die; I need to-” “Peter.” Green eyes way too big in his face, the Terran starred at Ronan. “Calm yourself. Breathe in.” Peter breathed in. “Breathe out.” Peter exhaled weakly; his slender figure was trembling slightly, however; instead of lessening, it got worse. Peter crouched down on the floor, clasping his knees with his arms. The trembling got worse. “I think I’m having a mental breakdown”, he admitted (no shit, Sherlock. No need to study psychology to figure that one out). His breaths turned irregular. He was going to die; he would be ripped apart, squished like an overripe banana! Without the adrenaline kicking his ass, imminent death was so much worse.
Suddenly, a strong arm wrapped around him and Peter froze. It smelled like ashes and stone, of power and safety. He wrapped his arms around Ronan, who had gotten down to one knee in front of him to be able to touch him. His blunt nails scratched uselessly over the impenetrable armour, as his grip tightened. He pressed his face into the armour on Ronan’s chest, whose other hand still held the hammer.
After what felt like forever but probably was no more than a few minutes, Peter felt himself calm down, soothed by the smell of smoke and ashes, the security of knowing nobody and nothing would get to him whenever he was protected like this. Ronan loosened his grip and got up. “Have you calmed?”
Peter nodded, still a bit miserable but at least no longer panicking. “Sorry you had to see that”, he apologised -both, to Ronan and the others.
Then, he finally managed to get up again. “I need a coffee”, he muttered, walking to the counterpart and filling up the water boiler he had brought from home. Then, he grabbed two large mugs out of the shelf above, before remembering they weren’t alone, so he balanced at his toes of be able to get out two more. Unfortunately, they didn’t have enough for all of them. A few silent minutes later, the coffee was done, and Peter filled the mugs, offering one to Ronan, who took it from him without a word. Then, he put two more on the table before grabbing the last one and adding two spoonsful of sugar.
When he sat down at the table, the two mugs were still untouched. “Coffee is the single thing Terra has ever done right, if you ask Ronan”, he told them, taking a sip, before sighing deeply. He was feeling better; caffeine always calmed his nerves. Yes, he knew that wasn’t what the magical bean was supposed to do at all, but he had long since stopped worrying about that.
“So”, he finally asked, taking another sip. “Any idea why purply killer-stone didn’t turn me into dust?”
Ronan had already finished his first cup of coffee, setting it aside and grabbing another one on the table. “Every empire strives to possess one of the stones, but only two have ever been found. The Space Stone is kept at Asgard, protected by the Allfather of its Nine Realms. The other one is the Power Stone. It was used to wipe out entire civilisations, turn planets to ashes. After eons, a group of extraordinary beings was able to share its energy and use it to annihilate their enemies, but even they were destroyed. The gem got lost after that, and no one knew its location anymore… until today.”
Peter frowned, finishing his coffee. “What about these dudes of yours? Are they furniture or do they have an idea about this?”, he asked, setting aside his mug. “Cause I feel like we’re kinda stuck here.”
“Speak.” The command wasn’t Ronan’s but the Accuser’s. While he made sure to be gentle with his Terran (well, as gentle as a Kree Warlord could get), Peter was well aware he was the only one who was and probably ever would be allowed to be receive that kind of softness from the Kree.
“What civilisation does Master Peter hail from?”, one of them asked -Peter thought he was from the Black Blood but couldn’t be sure. His facial markings were similar to those of the dude who had tried to kill him. He groaned. “Dang, don’t ever say that again. I can deal with a lot, but that Master-bullshit is just way too much.”
“Which title would you prefer?”, another Kree asked -one of the snipers; Peter could tell because these three still carried their precision-blasters. He was kinda lanky, especially for a Kree. It was obvious to them, Master Ronan had some kind of relationship with this male and judging by what they had witnessed so far, it seemed to be an important one. They just could not terminate the likes of which one, since the Supreme Accuser hadn’t yet started life-sharing. Whoever the noble woman would be; her role was one of uttermost devotion to the Master. This red-haired man was behaving outrageously whenever he even opened his mouth, even touching the Supreme Leader but Master Ronan had made very clear restricting this man would not be tolerated. Whoever he was, his rank was way prior to their own; however, without a title there was no way to address him as Master Ronan had ordered.
Meanwhile, Ronan’s not-so-super-secret-anymore lover stared at the bunch of blank blue faces. “I’m just Peter, duh”, he finally said. “No title or something, that’s just super awkward. And I’m from Terra, by the way. But that’s not what made me survive super-stone; Terra is kinda backwards compared to you.”
The first Kree answered again. “Then, we will leave that aspect out of consideration, Peter-Vanthr.”
The Terran blinked. “What now?”
It was Ronan, who answered. “Vanthr is a form of address used towards whoever is of a higher rank as to not insult them hence to not knowing their complete title.”
“You seriously do have titles without having titles”, Peter groaned. “All right then, just call me that if it makes you more comfortable. But I kinda feel like we’re off topic here.”
“The Power Stone was used on multiple occasions”, Ronan stated, setting his second empty coffee mug aside. “Whoever was stupid enough to attempt to force its power directly was annihilated. There always has been a channel.”
Peter blinked. “I never wanted to use it.”
Eleven heads turned towards him and he groaned. “I didn’t even know what this stone was, how was I supposed to know what to do with it?”, he asked. Being the only human in space had the annoying side effect to make him feel like a dumb piece of shit. “All I knew was that I had to protect it from these Xanadarians… because I knew if they got it-” Ronan would have risked his life to get it back. But he couldn’t say that without triggering the Warlord’s pride.
Another one of the ten dudes spoke up; none of the snipers. This one had some kind of bag with lots of smaller bags around his hip. “Maybe it was because you had no intention of using the Power-Stone, Peter-Vanthr, that kept it from reacting.” That would be the easiest explanation. However, the Terran frowned. “But it did react”, he argued. “When I was being shot at, it obviously did something or I would’ve been the piece of pulp.”
“Did you intend using it?” It was Ronan who asked, and Peter shook his head. “I didn’t know it was some kind of killer-shiny that would blow up the planet. I never wanted to destroy anything, I just wanted to-” he suddenly stopped, staring at Ronan with these way too big eyes of his.
“You just wanted what?”, the Accuser growled. Why did it have to be his lover who was partially braindead at times? However; Peter was silent for a few more minutes, before repeating: “I never wanted to destroy anything. I just wanted to protect you!”
Ronan’s lips pulled back to reveal a snarl. How dare he? How dare Peter implying he needed protection! And even worse, doing so in front of his subordinates! There was absolutely no way the Accuser would be able to let an insult that grave go, especially when he had already disregarded so many minor ones before, having accepted them by now as part of his lover’s nature. But this… his grip around the Warhammer’s handle tightened.
However, before he had chance to come up with a punishment that wouldn‘t right out kill Peter, the Terran had already turned around and run the few steps to where the Orb’s halves had been set on the table. “No!”, he shouted, but Peter already had gripped the Power-Stone, taking it out of its vessel -and showed it to him on his outstretched palm; perfectly fine.
“Can’t you see?”, he asked but continued without giving anyone a chance to answer. “Everyone who had the stone died, but they all used it for destruction! I never wanted to destroy anything; all I wanted was to protect the stone because that meant to protect you, too! And then that one dude tried to shoot my face off and it saved my sorry ass!”
The silence after that was deafening and for the very first time ever, Ronan looked actually baffled. Some minutes ticked past way too slowly, before the Accuser finally said: “Infinity Stones don’t have a consciousness of their own.”
Peter blinked. “How do you know?”, he then simply argued. “Did anyone ever ask?” He shifted his attention to the violet gem resting in his palm. “Can you do that?”, he then asked. “Can you protect us? I know you already did once but that blue sceptic over there is sometimes- Whoa!”
He jumped back when a thousand purple facets sprang into life around him, shielding his entire body -and before he was able to react, he was being pulled forward, straight onto Ronan. With a very unmanly yelp, Peter crushed at the Accuser’s chest; his armour certainly didn’t make the impact too pleasing. However; all he could do was gasp once he realised the purple forcefield was surrounding them, glittering in a million different shades, constantly changing their pattern. “What have you done?” Ronan’s voice sounded strangely… off, somehow, and Peter swallowed. “I don’t even have the slightest idea.” Then, a large grin nearly split his face in half as he raised his gaze to meet Ronan’s eyes. “I was right! This is awesome! C’mon, Roro! Say it! The Terran was right, for once!”
“This won’t stop me from smashing your head under my boot.”
“Aaawww”, Peter giggled. “I love you, too!” He really wanted to kiss Ronan right now but knew the other wouldn’t let him; not in front of so many eyes.
“Stop this nonsense.” While this definitely was an order, Peter could hear the exasperated, imperceptible undertone he had come to identify as loving. Nobody else would recognise this sliver of something that wasn’t softness, not even close, but still… Peter had to learn to identify such things from the very beginning.
But right now, something else was claiming his attention. Within the blink of an eye, the purple field surrounding them vanished from existence. Peter pouted. “And here I thought I was something special.” The gem in his palm warmed slightly and the Terran chuckled. “So… What are we gonna do now?”
Ronan turned around slightly, facing his subordinates. “Leave, now. If you ever speak of this to anyone, I will personally have you face the consequences of your treachery.”
Without even saying Goodbye (rude!) the ten Kree left Ronan’s rooms. As soon as the door had closed behind them, Peter’s back met the wall and his mouth was claimed by Ronan’s lips, his black tongue entering. The Terran couldn’t supress a moan, as Ronan pressed him tightly against the wall; his broad chest leaving him nowhere to run (not that he wanted).
The kiss turned harsher, nearly bruising and another moan was swallowed by the Kree’s lips, before he retreated, watching Peter’s breathless form. “You called me weak”, he then growled. “Needing protection… You dared dishonour me!”
“I’d never say that”, Peter gasped, trying to catch his breath, not quite noticing the graveness of the situation. “I know you don’t need protection, but that doesn’t change the fact that I want to protect you, because I’d kill me if something happened to-” He didn’t quite get to finish the sentence because his mouth was once more violated by an angry Kree, who had no intention of allowing him to end his sentence.
He heard the ripping of fabric and felt cool air on his chest. “That was my favourite shirt”, he mumbled against Ronan’s lips, however; the Accuser seemed unimpressed. Then, he pinched the Terran’s rosy nipples hard and Peter’s groan of pain was the Kree-equivalent of music in his ears. Blunt nails uselessly scratched over his armour and with another growl, he easily captured both of Peter’s wrists in one hand, pinning them above his head.
“I am going to make you regret dishonouring me”, the Kree growled, ripping off the remains of Peter’s black shirt with a red print of AC/DC and a simplified drawing of thunder. He stepped even closer, his free hand lifting the lightness of the Terran’s weight before nailing him against the wall with his own body, leaving his legs dangling uselessly. Peter’s cry rang beautifully in his ears, as he maltreated the other nipple, pinching it sharply, before pulling it painfully far away from Peter’s chest. “God, please”, the Terran cried, making his lover growl again. “None of your so-called Gods will dare stand against me”, he snarled, shifting to the other nipple again, continuing his mistreatment until the small nub was red and hot and the first tear slipped down Peter’s cheek. He tried to rub against his lover, but Ronan didn’t let him touch…
And then, suddenly, all contact was gone, and Peter simply fell to the floor. Ronan watched him out of purple eyes, simply ordering: “Unclothe yourself.”
Without even the idea of arguing, Peter fumbled off his boots and jeans, nearly falling over when he didn’t get out of one leg at once. Then, he stripped off his boxers and when Ronan didn’t react, finally thought of removing his socks.
When he attempted to touch his lover, the Kree didn’t allow him to. Instead, he commanded: “Turn around. Get on your knees.” Again, Peter obeyed without even a moment’s hesitation; allowing Ronan to watch his bare backside, hiding the obvious erection.
“Prepare yourself”, he ordered and if he would have less composure, he might have showed his satisfaction when the Terran didn’t even consider misbehaving. Instead, his left hand travelled to his entrance. He was aware Peter didn’t get any lubricant but that was only just, considering his earlier behaviour. His lover gasped when one of his dry fingers started entering but when Ronan’s growled angrily behind him, he still forced it all the way in, groaning at the stretch and slight amount of pain.
The Kree watched him open up the tight ring of muscle, his finger disappearing completely and when Peter started entering a second finger, walked around him and let his armour fall down next to him with a thud. Then, he opened his trousers, taking out his own cock already leaking self-lubricant. He allowed Peter’s eager hands to stroke it only once, slicking his fingers, before holding the tip right in front of that insufferable mouth. As soon as Peter had parted his lips, he grabbed his hair and fully shoved his erection into the Terran’s hot, awaiting throat without giving him time to adjust. Tears started to leak out of his green eyes, however; Ronan merely watched them roll down his cheeks. Then, he pulled back, allowing Peter to breathe again.
“I will take you unprepared if you don’t continue.” It was a statement, spoken in the uttermost matter of course and the Terran’s whine made his erection bob once in his mouth, before he finally continued preparing himself, eased by the Kree’s lubricant.
It was hard, though. Ronan’s grip on his hair wasn’t exactly painful but entirely ungiving and his large cock was forced down his throat again and again, making it near impossible to prepare himself at the same time. Again and again, his fingers stopped moving and when he forced a third one in, the slight pain reminded him of his fault.
And then, Ronan forced himself all the way down his throat, pressing his nose into the hairless abdomen and he could feel as his throat was flooded by gushes of hot, creamy come. He loved the taste of Ronan’s essence and nearly mourned as he was unable to take it all; feeling it drip down his chin and mixing with fresh tears hailing from sheer overuse.
Finally, Ronan pulled back, his blue erection glistening with Peter’s salvia, not even close to being done for.
“Get on the bed”, the Accuser ordered, making Peter scramble to get up. Without even asking, he went on knees again. Only seconds later, Ronan grabbed his head again from behind, forcing him on all fours. When he released his grip, Peter obediently stayed on his arms and knees.
Only seconds later he was rewarded when Ronan entered him to the hilt in one swift move, making him cry out in surprise, pleasure and no small amount of pain. Ronan then stayed motionless, allowing him to loosen up.
He could feel himself clenching and unclenching around the girth penetrating him and breathed heavily, trying to soothe the protesting muscle. Then, he moaned in pleasure as Ronan caressed his hair and something akin to a mewl escaped him when the penetration suddenly stopped, however; before he was able to react, he was impaled again right after. This time, Ronan’s pace was harsh, and he pulled all the way out again, before penetrating his lover to the hilt in a punishing manner.
Peter could feel his own neglected cock leak in need; the swollen head was pressed against his stomach, but there was nothing be could do about it since he needed both arms to keep his upper body from being fully pressed into the mattress.
When he felt his abused nipples being roughly pulled once more, he sobbed pathetically. “T-Too much”, he somehow got out, crying out when Ronan only pulled harder, twisting the hot, painfully pulsating flesh painfully to its limits.
Then, Ronan stopped moving completely, stuffed to the root inside him. “Beg.”
In his state, it took the Terran a moment to comprehend his orders but as soon as he was somehow able to, he reacted. “Please move, I need you to- I can’t- please, touch me, I love you, I-” he cried out in pain as Ronan once more treated his nipples. He would have to give him a salve later to help the abused flesh heal faster. For now, he simply enjoyed Peter’s pathetic sobbing.
Then, he grabbed the Terran’s thighs with both hands, before pulling nearly all the way out and rammed back in, making the bed under them shake. Satisfied for now, he aimed at his lover’s prostate, bringing him closer to his climax and finally forcing it upon him, enjoying his sobs of release, before emptying himself into that tight, obedient flesh. One of his palms reached out to hold the Peter’s stomach, as if to feel it being filled with the seed Peter loved to have inside so much.
When he pulled out, he watched his come leak out Peter’s used asshole. The muscle still twitched underneath his gaze.
Then, he turned Peter around; his stomach was splattered with come and he dragged two fingers through it, before holding them in front of Peter’s lips. “Clean up.” It was the last order and Peter met his eyes as he sucked his fingers in his mouth, cleaning them of his own essence.
“Where is the stone?” Ronan’s question ended the postcoital haze and Peter let his fingers slip out of his mouth, but not without giving them one last lick.
“Dunno. Check under the table, I might have lost it there.”
Ronan was silent for a moment. “You… lost the Power Stone?”
Peter groaned. “I was kinda occupied otherwise. Besides, if it wanted to kill us all, it already would have done. We’ll get it tomorrow.”
Ronan growled, however, before he was able to snap at Peter about the fact that he had just lost an Infinity stone and now attempted to wait until tomorrow to search for it under the counter, the slow, even breaths told him his Terran had already fallen asleep.
Great.
Now he would whine about having slept in his own come again once he woke up.
Just like he did all the time.