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Were you even breathing?
Gamora's own breath was warm against your cheek, though not unpleasantly so. Her radiant green skin was cool to the touch and, as you reached out a hand, there was a moment of absolute sincerity in the way your eyes met.
She'd been watching your mouth - how it moved to say her name and ask her questions, how that's how you spent your breath. Saying her name. Gamora found the corners of her mouth tugging up into a smile, though the noticing of all this was secondary to your concern. She was ethereal, otherworldly, far beyond your grasp. And yet held in your hands. Here, pressed to her as you'd rolled to safety through a hatch of what was probably a stolen ship. Here, looking at you like she was fine despite her injuries. Here, watching you. Staring even.
There was a longing in the air.
Cradling the back of her neck, you gently pulled her upwards to a seated position and felt as her dark locks entwined amongst your fingers. How the red ends burned like fire against the back of your hands.
Gamora's neck drooped as she leaned into you, pressing her slender neck to your shoulder, whispering thank you into the gap where your t-shirt met the exposed, pale skin of your collarbone.
She was practically glowing then, and a soft kiss pressed to the top of her head brought a smile to her lips. As if she'd known all along.
