Pressing his body against a naked teenager on the rooftop of a Manhattan skyscraper was not an event that Quill had anticipated this particular visit to Earth involving. Not that he was complaining. There was a warmth between the two of them, a sort of electric sparkling chemistry, that even just standing together, basking in the afterglow of a fiery kiss, was enough to keep Quill excited. He just gently rocked his hips up and down as Peter stood by him, and continued that motion as Peter began to lazily lick and nurture his cock all over again.
Fuck. Quill loved that. That whole languid cock lick mid-conversation with wistful eye contact, nub of the tongue perfectly tracing a prominent vein along the undercarriage of his shaft? Quill loved that technique. He wasn’t sure if there was a name for it, or a more direct way of describing it, but he loved it, and was pretty excited to see it form a natural part of Peter’s repertoire.
“Okay. So, normally that’d be a hard choice,” Quill replied, struggling to contain his excitement at both prospects long enough to form a coherent answer to Parker’s question. “But, and this ain’t an empty boast, but you can choke on my cock until I cum down your throat, and then we’ll loosen up your asshole and you can ride my cock until I cum in your ass. Trust me. I can do both.” He affectionately run his thumb down Parker’s cheek, then his chin, and finally resting on his slightly swollen bottom lip. “I think you deserve both.”