[ If Rocket didn't complain in some way, then Peter would know something was wrong. He takes the teasing in stride, serving only to spur him on, and gets his hands on Rocket once again even as they make it to his room. Which is probably what Rocket wanted, so he could consider himself successful. Peter groans the next time they kiss, biting Rocket's bottom lip and devouring his mouth with more urgency, right before Rocket pushes him against the door of his room.
He tightens his hold on the man's hips, tips his head back, and closes his eyes, letting out a pleased sigh when teeth work a mark on his neck and fingers run up his stomach. Rocket's breath is hot against the shell of his ear, causing a shudder and making Peter feel strung out and kiss-drunk. It's been a while since anybody wanted him this much, and he hadn't realized how much he'd missed it. He doesn't want to fuck it up, and he also doesn't want to wait any more than Rocket does. ]
Sometimes I used to think about kissing you. [ He says, and his grin can't fully hide the honesty in his voice. ] Mostly when I wanted you to shut up. Now I want to leave you speechless.
[ Peter turns his head to the side to catch Rocket's lips before he can answer back and presses his body forward so they're once again chest to chest, probably trapping Rocket's hand between them in the process. As pleasant as those exploring hands are under his shirt, they're both still too clothed for his licking, and the bed feels too far away.
He runs his own hands down the sides of Rocket's body and then lowers, even further down his ass, until Peter can reach the back of his thighs and lift him up. That leaves Rocket with the option to wrap his legs around Peter's waist as he moves them both to the bed, or simply allow himself to be carried there a little more unceremoniously.
To his credit, Peter doesn't drop him on the mattress once they reach the bed. He places him down gently and then leans over, a knee between Rocket's legs, while looking at him like he plans to eat him alive and swallow him whole. Eyes dark and hungry, with a kind of ferocious eagerness. Peter pauses for a moment so he can get rid of his shirt and throw it away without a care in the world, muscular chest, and scars on display. ]
You wanted me to talk less, so I better put my tongue to better use, hm?
[ Hands roaming over Rocket's chest, he's about to tug on his shirt to get him to get rid of it when he thinks better of it. It's probably better let Rocket decide if he's comfortable without it, rather than give him no option. Instead, Peter's hands slide down some more, and he tucks his fingers into the waistband of Rocket’s pants and starts to work on undoing the belt. ]
You think shuttin' me up's gonna be that easy— [Whatever the rest of the sentence was going to be is lost in another heated kiss, and he does bite a little, 'cause even if he's not exactly complaining he can't just give in that easy, but it's hard to hold onto the thought when it feels so fucking good. Maybe he can live with being cut off just this once.
The hands sliding purposefully over his ass doesn't come as a surprise, but the sudden lift does. He breathes a low, unsteady fuck, a jolt of heat hitting him like the thump of acceleration when a ship's engines kick in. Intellectually he's always known Peter's bigger and broader than he is, but knowing it's one thing; being manhandled so effortlessly is another, and he'd be lying if he said it wasn't really fucking hot.
He's half expecting to get all but thrown onto the bed, and— something twists, somewhere deep in his chest, for the unexpected gentleness he gets instead. There's a part of him that still wants to bristle at it, to snap that he's not fucking fragile, he doesn't need any kind of soft touch, but...well, he's better these days at ignoring those impulses. It still feels strange and unfamiliar to think about being wanted like this by someone he trusts, someone he knows beyond question at this point that he fucking matters to. Even if this somehow goes bad on them, or if once they're in the moment it ends up just not being his thing... it's going to be okay.
His eyes are dark and intent as they sweep over Peter's bared skin. It's nothing he hasn't seen before — he stitched up one or two of the newer scars himself — but this feels like the first time he's really looked, really taking the time to appreciate the hint of a flush starting to burn over his chest and the way the muscles shift under the skin when he moves. It's a pretty fucking appealing sight.
And then Peter's hands are at his belt and he lets his head fall back against the mattress, a shudder running through him]
Fuck [He licks his suddenly dry lips and slides a hand into Peter's hair] Yeah. Yeah, c'mon.
[ He would say that nothing about Rocket has ever been easy, but he's too busy shoving his tongue down the man's throat and enjoying every minute of it. It seems to do the trick in distracting Rocket from complaining more, and that gets Peter smiling against his mouth and moaning brokenly after he gets bitten. The way Rocket's voice dropped that 'fuck' after being lifted makes Peter’s dick ache with something desperate and needy. This is going to be a fun night, he can tell already.
It's not the first time he goes through the same old song and dance of 'I don't need to be handled with care because I am tough as nails' with a partner. And like other times, he believes that just because they can take things rougher, it doesn't mean they should. He will happily manhandle Rocket more if that's what gets him going, he can see the appeal too, but he refuses to be unnecessarily cruel to his bed partners on principle. Being dotted on or worshiped in bed doesn't make them weak. And fuck it, Peter enjoys doing that, and he's never claimed not to be selfish.
If this doesn't work in the long run, it doesn't work, and that will be fine with him too. They know each other well enough; they have gone through too much, and they understand each other to the point that this doesn't have to be a deal-breaker for their friendship. Peter is glad —and it makes him go a little bit sappy, even if he keeps it to himself— that Rocket trusts him this much.
If it does work... frankly, Peter has no plan for what to do, so he will most likely wing it. As much as he would love it, the universe tends to screw him over at the first opportunity. He tries not to wonder about the positive 'what ifs', so he gets less disappointed when they don't happen. He's going to focus on the present, like the way the column of Rocket's throat looks so biteable when he tips his head back to curse.
Peter makes a soft little noise when a hand buries into his hair and leans into the touch. That feels nice and he enjoys it maybe a tad too much. He wastes no time, finally getting Rocket's pants open and off of him, his underwear following soon enough. A warm, callused palm slides up the inside of Rocket's thigh, while the other wraps around the base of his cock to give it a squeeze.
The blond pauses to grin wickedly up at him before leaning down. Peter bites the curve of a hipbone and then places a trail of kisses down the Adonis' belt, nose brushing against the hair of Rocket's happy trail.
He doesn't tease him much further, warm tongue dipping into the slit of his cock to lap at the precome pooling at the tip. Peter glances up at him, green eyes bright, before fully wrapping his lips around Rocket’s cock and sucking him greedily, left hand digging into his leg. ]
[He's had a lot to say on the topic of Peter's mouth over the years, most of it not that complimentary. Right now he'll happily disavow past-him as a fucking liar, because every time that mouth touches his skin, his brain entirely shuts off. The world is rapidly narrowing to nothing but anticipation and building heat as Peter charts a path southward with unmistakable intent, every touch going straight to his aching dick.
Somewhere in there his pants disappear. He's not entirely sure how that happened, but he's not going to question it. He has no trouble just accepting that Peter's some kind of sex wizard and moving on with his life. It does make it clear though that still having his shirt on at this stage feels increasingly weird; reluctantly he abandons his grip on Peter's hair to strip it off over his head, tossing it carelessly somewhere into the dim recesses of the bunk. The metal under his collarbones gleams in the low light, the centrepiece of a dense tapestry of scars, as he props himself up on his elbows to appreciate the sight laid out in front of him.
A convulsive shudder runs through him for the first touch directly to his cock, his eyes fluttering shut and his lips parting around a barely-audible breath of a curse. There's barely a moment to process the overwhelming rush of sensation before Peter's mouth is on him and he swears again, louder and more emphatic this time, his hips twitching involuntarily upwards]
Fuck [His hand sinks back into Peter's hair, grip tightening at the base of his skull, and he gives a shallow thrust into the wet, eager heat enveloping him] Fuck that's good.
[ Peter might not be a tech genius like Rocket, but he has skills in other areas, and in bed, he knows very well what he's doing. He wants to do good by Rocket too, and not simply because the other had dared him to do his best. That said, there's still a sense of deep satisfaction upon hearing and seeing Rocket come undone literally under his hands and mouth.
There's a pleased, encouraging noise of approval that comes from the back of Peter's throat when Rocket's shirt goes missing, probably sending some enjoyable vibrations down the cock in his mouth. His free hand immediately slides up from Rocket's thigh to the curve of his hip and the valleys of his abs. He doesn't mind any scars or metal pieces that get in the way of his touches, but he's mindful not to add too much pressure to those areas, just in case.
Aside from that, as his tongue works, he lets his hand wander, made easier when Rocket props himself up and his chest gets properly within reach.
It's been a while since Peter's had a dick in his mouth, though, and Rocket certainly has nothing to be self-conscious about. He's glad that his skills are still up to standards if the noises the other man is making are any indication, but Peter still jumps a little when Rocket's hips roll upwards, a hand keeping him in place. Fucking hell, that's hot.
He reminds himself to breathe through his nose and relax his jaw to take more of him into his mouth. He tilts his head back off slightly, his tongue pressing against the bottom of Rocket's cock, whilst his teeth grazed the top for a few seconds. Peter sucks lightly on the tip before going back down again, bowing his head until he feels the hardness in his mouth hitting the back of his throat, messy blond curls brushing against Rocket’s happy trail. Ignoring the fact that he can hardly breathe, Peter swallows around Rocket's cock and hums. ]
[He tenses at the brush of wandering fingertips over his metalwork, an uneasy thrill that's distinctly not pleasure shivering through him and crossing some confusing wires on its way. His fingers tighten again in Peter's hair, grounding himself in the here and now. It's okay. He's safe here. The hands on his skin are familiar, welcome. It's okay.
Blinking rapidly, he forces his eyes open again, and the sight that greets him hits him with a punch of heat so overwhelming that any unease is instantly forgotten. Fuck, Peter's gorgeous like this; a flush burning across his hollowed cheeks, lips glistening and hair in disarray. Rocket groans, hand slipping down out of his hair to stroke an almost tender thumb over his cheekbone]
Shoulda put your mouth to better use years ago [His voice is unfamiliar in his own ears, low and ragged and absolutely wrecked. Another desperate shudder rolls through him as Peter takes him impossibly deeper. He tips his head back and moans, eyes fixed unseeing on the ceiling and a cleaner, sweeter kind of tension ratcheting up as his hips continue to twitch upwards of their own accord. He can feel the heat building, drawing up to a crescendo]
[ The fingers caress his cheek in a gentler manner than Peter anticipated, prompting him to glance up at Rocket, his eyes peeping through his thick eyelashes. He's not in a position to properly smile, but he tilts his head to lean into the touch and makes a content noise. Peter's always been weak to shows of affection of any kind.
And that's probably another reason why he doesn't drag this on more than Rocket would enjoy. It's tempting, oh, so very-much, to edge him for a little while, especially after that comment, but Peter decides to take it as praise in a very Rocket-like way.
He can make him beg for it the next time, when this thing between them isn't so new and delicate. He hadn't missed the way Rocket had gone a little too still for a moment when his hands wandered, and he doubted it was because it felt just that good. So Peter's going to be a good lover and not push their luck because he already wants it to be next time. Any snarky comments from him will wait until later, but they will eventually happen; it's how they work and how they like it. Â
Rocket looks so good too: voice ragged, head thrown back, and exposing the column of his throat. If his mouth weren't already working to make sure Rocket loses it, he would be biting and kissing up that neck, leaving marks behind. Peter looks down again, eyes half-lidded and a shudder of his own wracking his body at the view. He squeezes Rocket's thigh again in a show of acknowledgment of the warning, his nails digging a little into the flesh to add an edge to the sensation, but he's not pulling away.
Fingers wrap around Rocket's cock at the base, giving him a few firm strokes in tandem with the way Peter's boobing his head and pressing the flat of his tongue hard against the underside the cockhead. He's not doing anything to stop the other man from rocking his hips up and fucking his mouth, quite the opposite, making some little moans and swallowing thickly. ]
[He hadn't been prepared for how fucking hot it is that Peter's so obviously into it. He can feel those moans, vibrating through him like shocks up his spine and feeding the dizzying heat consuming his senses. Every roll of his hips is met with nothing but shameless greed, and he's quick to follow that encouragement, thrusting up with increasing urgency. Distantly he can hear himself panting out half-coherent filth and praise.
And then, sudden as a gunshot, it all tips past the point of no return. He sucks in a sharp breath and goes almost silent, every muscle taut and trembling as he comes.
After a few breathless moments the tension flows out of him with a low, heartfelt moan; he melts into the mattress, his fingers slipping out of Peter's hair]
[ This is Rocket, of course, Peter is into it. He always tries to have a good time during sex, but there's no denying it always feels better when the other person matters to him. So yes, he's pretty pleased, even if his own need is getting harder to ignore. Rocket running his mouth like that is getting him all hot and bothered, and his cock is aching something fierce.
It's not distracting enough that he doesn't feel Rocket twitch and tense up as he comes, then go totally pliant, like a bowstring that finally snapped. That low moan does think to Peter, and he swallows around him; he keeps one hand wrapped around the base of his shaft to help him ride out his orgasm. He leans back and lets Rocket slip out of his mouth before things get so sensitive that they turn painful, feeling a little dazzled himself.
Peter sighs, resting his check on the curve of Rocket's thigh and smiling like the cat who got the cream. He's pretty sure he's never seen the other man this relaxed. It makes Peter's eyes turn soft, but since Rocket's still seems too blissed out to focus on him, he knows he can get away with it without getting shit for it. He lets Rocket a few more seconds to compose himself, which Peter uses to catch his breath before he says; ]
You're not allowed to complain about my mouth ever again; I hope you realize that.
[ The blond says, sounding a little smug but soft, his voice rough due to their recent activities. He turns his head just slightly so he can give Rocket's thigh a light bite, followed by a quick, soft kiss. He would much rather yank Rocket into a proper kiss but now that things had quieted down somewhat, he isn't sure if the other would be into it still. ]
[It takes him a long couple of seconds to string together anything like a coherent reply, still half drunk on the aftershocks. His thoughts feel like syrup. Normally he can't stand being still unless some project or puzzle is entirely occupying his attention, but here and now for a rare peaceful moment, he can't imagine wanting to move from exactly where he is]
Definitely not gonna slow me down, but nice try.
[A shiver rolls through him at that bite, a small, approving noise caught on his lips. His fingers are stroking absently through Peter's hair, his touch distractedly gentle. He rolls his eyes, but there's no sting to it, his gaze fond] Don't "sweetheart" me, Quill.
[The embers of a banked heat are still burning low in his belly, and they flare a little brighter as he takes in Peter's dishevelled state with lazy appreciation; his hair wild, lips reddened and glistening, unabashed hunger in his eyes. Rocket's fingers tighten in his hair, urging him to shift back up the bed] C'mere.
That only means I'll have to try this strategy again and see for how long it keeps you quiet. [ Peter punctuates his words by running a hand up the curve of Rocket's hips again, enjoying the warmth of their skins now that things were a little less frantic.
The fingers in his hair draw a new content sigh past his lips once more, and Peter closes his eyes and draws in slow, long breaths through his nose. He might be horny at hell right now, but he's not one to waste a gentle moment when it happens to him; those are as rare in his life as witnessing a fucking unicorn. ]
Do you prefer babe? Or maybe darling. I can also offer sugah.
[ The last word comes out in a thick midwestern accent, one that Peter definitely has but rarely used while in space, tinting his voice with a honeyed tone and a lilting cadence. He smiles up at Rocket until the other man tugs at his hair, and then he can't but oblige and move.
It takes a little effort to properly crawl up the bed to him; the front of Peter's pants is painfully thigh. Before, he had managed to somehow kick his boots off at some point in what was no doubt a practiced movement, and he doesn't have to worry about them staining the sheets. The urge to sit on Rocket's lap, it's hard to resist, to bracket him between his thighs, but he doesn't want to crush him, so Peter settles for leaning in until their faces are close. ]
[None of them have led the kind of lives where a scrap of softness is a thing you get to take for granted. Even here and now, safe on the ship they've made a home of with someone he's come to trust completely, in some ways it still feels alien. It still feels new and strange to let someone this close, to have someone put their hands on his skin for the sole purpose of giving pleasure. Maybe it's always going to feel that way.
Maybe that's not such a bad thing. He doesn't know that he wants to take it for granted.
He snorts, shaking his head at the litany of increasingly ridiculous endearments, and gives a slow smirk as Peter crawls back up the bed to once again bracket him in against the mattress. A fresh thrill of heat shivers through him, his voice dropping to a husky murmur as he retorts] I was gonna see about returning the favor, but you're kinda giving me second thoughts here...
[ It's exactly because they didn't have easy and happy lives that it makes it all the more necessary to show each other some appreciation. It comes from a place of trust and genuine affection, despite any rocky start, and Peter is grateful every day that they all found a place to call their own, a family.
Tonight he considers himself even more lucky than usual, sharing his bed with a lover he knows won't deceive him or hurt him on purpose. He might be a jackass on occasion, but that's part of Rocket's appeal. ]
Tsk, my terran charms are wasted on you. [ Peter scoffs, making an exaggerated pout for a split second and sounding not at all upset. One of his hands plays with Rocket's hair, fingers carding through the strands. ] Still, let me convince you some more.
[ He presses their bodies close, chest to chest, but still holds most of his own weight on his forearms. Peter finally breaks the last inches of distance between them and kisses him heated and deep, giving a slow roll of his hips in the process. ]
[The movement is slow and telegraphed enough that he could easily have put a stop to it if he'd wanted to, but still, part of him is nonetheless braced to have to suppress an instinctive spike of fight-or-flight when Peter settles in on top of him, pressing him into the mattress. He doesn't quite know what to do with the way it never comes. It doesn't feel like being held down or restrained. Instead it feels like a harness clipping into place; like the weight of a gun at his hip, noticeable only by the cessation of the sense of nakedness its absence had caused. He feels...anchored. Safe.
He leans readily into the kiss, a low moan lost between their lips for the heat and hunger in it. He can feel how desperately fucking hard Peter is; still being trapped in his pants has to fucking hurt by this point. It's kind of hot, knowing that it's all for him.
He gives a mock-thoughtful hum against Peter's lips as they break for air] Hmm, lemme think it over—
[In his current position he doesn't have the most useful leverage. But he hasn't missed that Peter's full weight isn't on him, and that's all the opening he needs. He hooks a leg around the back of Peter's knee and braces a hand against his shoulder, and in one fluid motion pushes and twists and flips them. Peter's back hits the mattress, and suddenly Rocket's grinning down at him, all dark eyes and predatory intent as he slips a hand between them to palm Peter's dick through his pants]
[ Peter would have moved away the moment Rocket seemed uncomfortable, or if he made it clear he needed some space. The last thing he wants is to overwhelm him, and Peter has made aware many (many, truly) times in the past that he can be a bit much.
He's glad that Rocket doesn't push him away, though, that maybe it's another big show of trust. Back in the day, Gamora also had some issues with unexpected touches or Peter clinging to her too much that they had to work on. He's a sucker for cuddling but, with time, he also learned to give her the space she needed and find a middle ground. Peter would be Rocket's weighed blanket any time he wants or simply stay close without touching if that's what works best for him.
He moans into the kiss in response to Rocket's willingness and the sounds the other man is making, and it's so thoroughly distracted that when Rocket flips them over, Peter lets out a startled yelp. His surprised face quickly melts into one of pure delight, and he looks up at Rocket looming over him with a smile of his own. ]
I didn't know you had it in you. [ If Peter means the strength or Rocket being this feisty, it's up in the air. He means both, so any interpretation works. The grin Rocket is giving him goes straight to his dick, and the hungry gaze makes Peter visibly shiver with anticipation. The heat of his unfulfilled pleasure is still burning low in his belly, and the feeling gets sharper when Rocket gets his hands on him, prompting Peter to throw back his head with a broken moan escaping his lips. ]
Fuck, ah... [ His hands twitch on each side of him, but he doesn't dare to reach out and touch Rocket right now, lest he stop doing whatever he has planned. He can do something else, though, and that's running his mouth in a way his friend might like. ] Rocket...Please.
Edited (I forgot a word oops.) 2024-11-10 02:23 (UTC)
[He gives a soft huff of a laugh, a wry fondness in the smile that curves his lips. After all this time, neither the fact that he's disproportionately strong for his size nor his inability to back down from anything that looks like a challenge can possibly come as a surprise to Peter. He's never put anything less than a hundred percent into something once he's decided he's doing it, and this is no different.
His gaze is intent on Peter, attention wholly focused on him, cataloguing every detail of the shivers and moans provoked by subtle changes in the movement of his hand. A glint that probably would be worrying to anyone with functional self-preservation instincts comes into his eyes at that breathless please, at the way his name sounds ragged and greedy on Peter's lips. Fuck, he wants more of it. He wants to see where this takes them.
He leans down to lick a slow, deliberate stripe up the length of the scar that bisects Peter's collarbone, tasting fresh sweat, palm still working in a steady rhythm against the bulge in his pants. His teeth graze over the hollow of Peter's throat as he unzips his pants with a deft hand, reaching inside to free his straining cock. It's hot and desperately hard, jumping eagerly in his grip as he wraps his hand around the shaft and lifts his head to watch Peter's face as he slowly starts to stroke]
[ Peter smiles a toothy grin up at him after that reaction. He knows that Rocket's looks are deceiving, and he's seen the man fight plenty; it's only that he hadn't considered Rocket using his strength in bed, and hell if the thought doesn't make Peter's blood run hotter. One day he needs to try to convince Rocket to check if he can hold him up with Peter's legs wrapped around his waist.
He probably should be a bit worried about the intense look that Rocket's offering him, but self-preservation has never been Peter's forte, and the whole situation only makes him want the other man more. He doesn't know what to do with his hands now, so one arm wraps around Rocket's shoulders to pull him even closer, grabbing onto him with some desperation when a tongue slides up the scar by his neck.
Every drag of Rocket's fingers against his heated skin sparks up his spine. They should probably get rid of his pants, the damn things really are in the way, but he doesn't want to do anything that implies losing that hand wrapped around his cock. Peter has to try to focus and take some deep breaths for a second, or things are going to end too fast for his liking. Almost unconsciously, his hips roll up into the contact, seeking more friction, cursing and groaning under his breath. A chocked-out moan goes past his lips even though he bites down on his bottom lip to try and stifle it. ]
[A shudder runs through him at the urgent way Peter grabs onto him, at the naked desperation in the grip on his shoulders. He grins against the side of Peter's neck and scrapes his teeth over the tender, stubble-dusted skin there, chasing that sense of need.
Something about that stifled moan cuts straight through him, a pulse of heat and want shivering over his skin and a twitch of renewed interest from his dick] C'mon, don't hold out on me [It's a low, rough-voiced murmur, punctuated with a light but pointed squeeze of his hand. His eyes are still intent on Peter's as he cantinues stroking his dick] I wanna hear you.
[ Peter whimpers at the brush of teeth against his flesh and knows that Rocket might give him shit for it later, but he can't help himself now. A new wave of pleasure crashes into him, making his stomach tense up and his back arch with it.
It has something to do with Rocket's voice and not just the way he so deliciously works on him, stroking him just right; it's the rough voice and the command. Apparently, Peter doesn't like to be told what to do unless it happens in bed. Rocket's hands are callused, unsurprisingly, and that only adds to the sensation, making Peter shudder hard after a particularly well-aimed stroke. His thighs press against Rocket's, trembling a little, and there's that desperate want that makes Peter wish they were even closer. ]
Oh, fuck me...[ He breathes out between a few more unsteady moans, this time louder, not trying to be quiet anymore. He's pretty sure his cheeks are flushed a deep red and his eyes watery. ]
[Fuck me. Peter's voice is absolutely wrecked, and it's probably just a turn of phrase, but the thought still hits him like a punch in the stomach. Fuck that's a hot mental image] Maybe next time [Part of him's distantly shocked at how steady his voice is, as though just the idea alone hasn't entirely shorted out every rational thought in his head. He swallows hard and gives a broad, teasing grin] If, y'know. If you ask nice.
[He settles his weight in more comfortably against Peter, half draped over him, and picks up the pace of the purposeful movements of his hand. There's something intoxicating about the flush burning over Peter's skin, about hearing those moans and knowing they're for him. He gives a low, breathless curse of his own, rocking his hips lazily against Peter's thigh and watching him with dark, hungry eyes as he strokes his cock] Fuck that's hot. Fuck, c'mon—
[ Peter's brain almost overloads at that, his thoughts going from Hell, yes, and I can ask real niiiice, you'll see to You can't just promise shit like that and not deliver. He groans, not voicing any of these thoughts because his throat feels suddenly very dry. He has to take a moment to appreciate being here, to look at Rocket’s infuriatingly handsome face and devilish grin, and knows, without a shadow of a doubt, that he's in too deep again. Oh, well. ]
N-next time? The night's young. [ Peter's lips quirk up, his green eyes bright. The tone is tensing but still gentle, aware of who they are and what all this means. ] Don't tell me you clock out after one round. I expect better.
[ That's a surprisingly long sentence coming from Peter, considering how most of the blood from his brain has left the premises. He hopes Rocket doesn't expect more teasing or coherent answers, especially after leaning more of his weight on him in a way that makes Peter's toes curl. Rocket tightens the grip on his cock, fast and fucking perfect, and Peter practically wails.
He clutches Rocket's shoulder like he's holding onto a lifeline, hitches one of his legs up for leverage, and locks it behind Rocket's thigh when the other man starts grinding against him. It's only a few seconds later that he's crying out, coming right after Rocket prompts him to. Peter shakes and gasps for air, burying his face in the crook of his neck, feeling like he's falling apart but comforted by the fact that Rocket's there to catch him and center him.
He shivers through an aftershock and lets himself relax, going boneless on the mattress, messy curls falling over his forehead. He's no longer grabbing at Rocket as if he's afraid he will disappear, but also not letting go of him just yet. ]
[That's a hell of a lot more words than he was expecting, and they're mostly coherent and in an order that makes sense and everything. Clearly he's not trying hard enough here. Coherence is more than he expects from Peter at the best of times, never mind with a hand on his dick and the kind of tremors running through him that strongly suggest he's half an inch from losing it. He's gotta up his game. And if he focuses on that thought— well, it's a simpler one than acknowledging that he has no idea what he's getting himself into here.
If he was ever gonna learn his lesson about letting his mouth run until it's talked him into something he doesn't know how to back down from, it would've happened long before now. He'll figure it out when he gets there. He always does.
For now, it's hard not to feel like he's got the upper hand when he's got Peter falling apart under him; shamelessly needy, making sounds that are going to be burned into his brain for the rest of his fucking life. His own dick's definitely starting to get interested in the proceedings again as he keeps working his grip in the same relentless rhythm, chasing every cry and moan like his life depends on it. Peter's a good-looking guy. He'd never particularly planned to do anything about that fact until roughly twenty minutes ago, but he's not blind. And fuck, he's never been as gorgeous as he is in this moment, every muscle taut and a look of desperate rapture on his face, arching up and crying out as he comes.
In the still, breathless moments that follow, he turns his face to rest his cheek against Peter's hair, all lazy satisfaction and a not-quite-familiar sense of fondness. He still feels almost drunk on it. Even if he doesn't quite know what to do with the way Peter's holding on to him like he doesn't want to let go, like maybe there's something in the closeness beyond just savoring the afterglow, it's...good. It feels like the way Peter had smiled at him, way back when, the first time he'd unthinkingly referred to the Milano as home.
He eases his hand free and lifts his head to inspect the wetness spilled over his fingers with an air of mild curiosity. And then, with a smirk, he holds Peter's eyes as he slowly and deliberately licks them clean]
[ Proof that not even good sex can make Peter shut up for good. Or not completely. Rocket can still be proud of all the embarrassing noises he got out of him and the many more he might get in the future. Whatever they end up doing, if Rocket's up for it, Peter will welcome it. Even give pointers if the other needs them, but he doesn't think Rocket's pride would appreciate it. Right now he's still lost in the afterglow and enjoying the last remains of his high, but his hold eases from a grip to him running his hands up and down Rocket's back in a caress.
After Rocket rests his cheek against him, Peter closes his eyes. It takes him a few seconds to figure out what the fuzzy feeling in his chest means. He's happy. Not simply blissed out because the sex is great, he feels genuinely happy for the first time in a long while. It feels so good to be pressed close to someone, to share their warmth and be playful.  He lets out a soft whine and opens his eyes again when Rocket moves, a bit sensitive still, only to end up staring. One day you're going to be the death of me, Peter doesn't say it out loud because he doesn't want to jinx them, but he sure thinks about it as he watches Rocket lick his fingers. ]
Holy hell, that's sexy. [ He admits, because he's not made out of stone, and he's too full of endorphins to lie. Not one to hold back either, Peter runs a hand up Rocket's side chest, gently fondling it and then flicking his thumb over a nipple to check his reaction. ]
Getting back in the game already, hm? I'm going to need five minutes, and I really want to get rid of the damn pants first, please, but I also don't feel like moving just yet. I kinda like you on top, to be honest.
[They've always had a way of getting under each others' skin, turning things into a challenge that absolutely did not need to be. It's mostly playful these days, and they've both learned some lessons about when to ease off, but there's still a certain competitiveness there. He's got this feeling like things are going to escalate now they've found a whole new way of driving each other crazy. Fuck, they are not going to be able to be chill about this.
It definitely doesn't feel like something that's going to be a one-and-done. Not when Peter's hands are still warm and familiar against his skin, making him gasp and shudder with just a touch. He wants more; wants to dig his fingers in and map out every corner of this until he knows exactly how to take Peter apart like a misbehaving engine and put him back together so he sings under his hands.
He moans softly at that teasing touch, eyes drifting shut and lips parting as he leans into it] That's handy [It comes out slightly breathless, but he doesn't let that take the edge off his smirk] 'Cause I could get used to having you under me.
[He rocks his hips lazily, looking down at Peter with dark, lidded eyes, and slowly leans in until they're close enough for their noses to brush, his arm braced on the bunk above Peter's head] Got some big ideas about round two, huh?
[ With the uprising they had, and how difficult it was at the beginning for all the Guardians to simply admit how they felt about the others, challenges and fights were inevitable. Peter's glad they move past that, but that Rocket still gives as good as he gets. Life is never dull when they banter, and he also needs a partner who won't take his bullshit.Â
And yes, Peter now has a whole new arsenal at his disposal to get under Rocket's skin and, with some luck, into his pants. Now he knows the flirting won't be unwelcome, so he will dash it out freely and pamper the other often unless Rocket tells him to stop.
The situation looks promising so far, with Rocket responding so beautifully to touches and Peter memorizing what places are safe for his hands to wander to. He's getting addicted very quickly to making Rocket shudder and mutter under his breath; the raspy way his voice turns to, it's very attractive. Â
There's no urgency now in their movements, which allows Peter to appreciate even more the feel of Rocket under his hand, and he keeps letting his fingers caress and brush over places he knows will feel good. His other hand sneaks up his partner's spine and then buries itself in the brown hair, playing with the strands. ]
Is that so? Maybe we're onto something then. [ He wants to wipe that cocky smirk off the man's face, preferably with his own mouth, and he's all too delighted when the other leans closer. Peter nuzzles the tip of his nose against Rocket's, then tilts his chin up until their lips brush. ]
You know me; I'm the best at plans. I've got a few great suggestions to share with you. Let me tell you the first one.
[ The hand playing with his hair comes to snake around the back of Rocket's neck, urging him forward, so Peter can lay a kiss on his lips. It's deceptively soft, and it doesn't take long until Peter deepens it, nipping at Rocket's bottom lip and pressing his tongue against the sting. ]
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
no subject
He tightens his hold on the man's hips, tips his head back, and closes his eyes, letting out a pleased sigh when teeth work a mark on his neck and fingers run up his stomach. Rocket's breath is hot against the shell of his ear, causing a shudder and making Peter feel strung out and kiss-drunk. It's been a while since anybody wanted him this much, and he hadn't realized how much he'd missed it. He doesn't want to fuck it up, and he also doesn't want to wait any more than Rocket does. ]
Sometimes I used to think about kissing you. [ He says, and his grin can't fully hide the honesty in his voice. ] Mostly when I wanted you to shut up. Now I want to leave you speechless.
[ Peter turns his head to the side to catch Rocket's lips before he can answer back and presses his body forward so they're once again chest to chest, probably trapping Rocket's hand between them in the process. As pleasant as those exploring hands are under his shirt, they're both still too clothed for his licking, and the bed feels too far away.
He runs his own hands down the sides of Rocket's body and then lowers, even further down his ass, until Peter can reach the back of his thighs and lift him up. That leaves Rocket with the option to wrap his legs around Peter's waist as he moves them both to the bed, or simply allow himself to be carried there a little more unceremoniously.
To his credit, Peter doesn't drop him on the mattress once they reach the bed. He places him down gently and then leans over, a knee between Rocket's legs, while looking at him like he plans to eat him alive and swallow him whole. Eyes dark and hungry, with a kind of ferocious eagerness. Peter pauses for a moment so he can get rid of his shirt and throw it away without a care in the world, muscular chest, and scars on display. ]
You wanted me to talk less, so I better put my tongue to better use, hm?
[ Hands roaming over Rocket's chest, he's about to tug on his shirt to get him to get rid of it when he thinks better of it. It's probably better let Rocket decide if he's comfortable without it, rather than give him no option. Instead, Peter's hands slide down some more, and he tucks his fingers into the waistband of Rocket’s pants and starts to work on undoing the belt. ]
no subject
The hands sliding purposefully over his ass doesn't come as a surprise, but the sudden lift does. He breathes a low, unsteady fuck, a jolt of heat hitting him like the thump of acceleration when a ship's engines kick in. Intellectually he's always known Peter's bigger and broader than he is, but knowing it's one thing; being manhandled so effortlessly is another, and he'd be lying if he said it wasn't really fucking hot.
He's half expecting to get all but thrown onto the bed, and— something twists, somewhere deep in his chest, for the unexpected gentleness he gets instead. There's a part of him that still wants to bristle at it, to snap that he's not fucking fragile, he doesn't need any kind of soft touch, but...well, he's better these days at ignoring those impulses. It still feels strange and unfamiliar to think about being wanted like this by someone he trusts, someone he knows beyond question at this point that he fucking matters to. Even if this somehow goes bad on them, or if once they're in the moment it ends up just not being his thing... it's going to be okay.
His eyes are dark and intent as they sweep over Peter's bared skin. It's nothing he hasn't seen before — he stitched up one or two of the newer scars himself — but this feels like the first time he's really looked, really taking the time to appreciate the hint of a flush starting to burn over his chest and the way the muscles shift under the skin when he moves. It's a pretty fucking appealing sight.
And then Peter's hands are at his belt and he lets his head fall back against the mattress, a shudder running through him]
Fuck [He licks his suddenly dry lips and slides a hand into Peter's hair] Yeah. Yeah, c'mon.
no subject
It's not the first time he goes through the same old song and dance of 'I don't need to be handled with care because I am tough as nails' with a partner. And like other times, he believes that just because they can take things rougher, it doesn't mean they should. He will happily manhandle Rocket more if that's what gets him going, he can see the appeal too, but he refuses to be unnecessarily cruel to his bed partners on principle. Being dotted on or worshiped in bed doesn't make them weak. And fuck it, Peter enjoys doing that, and he's never claimed not to be selfish.
If this doesn't work in the long run, it doesn't work, and that will be fine with him too. They know each other well enough; they have gone through too much, and they understand each other to the point that this doesn't have to be a deal-breaker for their friendship. Peter is glad —and it makes him go a little bit sappy, even if he keeps it to himself— that Rocket trusts him this much.
If it does work... frankly, Peter has no plan for what to do, so he will most likely wing it. As much as he would love it, the universe tends to screw him over at the first opportunity. He tries not to wonder about the positive 'what ifs', so he gets less disappointed when they don't happen. He's going to focus on the present, like the way the column of Rocket's throat looks so biteable when he tips his head back to curse.
Peter makes a soft little noise when a hand buries into his hair and leans into the touch. That feels nice and he enjoys it maybe a tad too much. He wastes no time, finally getting Rocket's pants open and off of him, his underwear following soon enough. A warm, callused palm slides up the inside of Rocket's thigh, while the other wraps around the base of his cock to give it a squeeze.
The blond pauses to grin wickedly up at him before leaning down. Peter bites the curve of a hipbone and then places a trail of kisses down the Adonis' belt, nose brushing against the hair of Rocket's happy trail.
He doesn't tease him much further, warm tongue dipping into the slit of his cock to lap at the precome pooling at the tip. Peter glances up at him, green eyes bright, before fully wrapping his lips around Rocket’s cock and sucking him greedily, left hand digging into his leg. ]
no subject
Somewhere in there his pants disappear. He's not entirely sure how that happened, but he's not going to question it. He has no trouble just accepting that Peter's some kind of sex wizard and moving on with his life. It does make it clear though that still having his shirt on at this stage feels increasingly weird; reluctantly he abandons his grip on Peter's hair to strip it off over his head, tossing it carelessly somewhere into the dim recesses of the bunk. The metal under his collarbones gleams in the low light, the centrepiece of a dense tapestry of scars, as he props himself up on his elbows to appreciate the sight laid out in front of him.
A convulsive shudder runs through him for the first touch directly to his cock, his eyes fluttering shut and his lips parting around a barely-audible breath of a curse. There's barely a moment to process the overwhelming rush of sensation before Peter's mouth is on him and he swears again, louder and more emphatic this time, his hips twitching involuntarily upwards]
Fuck [His hand sinks back into Peter's hair, grip tightening at the base of his skull, and he gives a shallow thrust into the wet, eager heat enveloping him] Fuck that's good.
no subject
There's a pleased, encouraging noise of approval that comes from the back of Peter's throat when Rocket's shirt goes missing, probably sending some enjoyable vibrations down the cock in his mouth. His free hand immediately slides up from Rocket's thigh to the curve of his hip and the valleys of his abs. He doesn't mind any scars or metal pieces that get in the way of his touches, but he's mindful not to add too much pressure to those areas, just in case.
Aside from that, as his tongue works, he lets his hand wander, made easier when Rocket props himself up and his chest gets properly within reach.
It's been a while since Peter's had a dick in his mouth, though, and Rocket certainly has nothing to be self-conscious about. He's glad that his skills are still up to standards if the noises the other man is making are any indication, but Peter still jumps a little when Rocket's hips roll upwards, a hand keeping him in place. Fucking hell, that's hot.
He reminds himself to breathe through his nose and relax his jaw to take more of him into his mouth. He tilts his head back off slightly, his tongue pressing against the bottom of Rocket's cock, whilst his teeth grazed the top for a few seconds. Peter sucks lightly on the tip before going back down again, bowing his head until he feels the hardness in his mouth hitting the back of his throat, messy blond curls brushing against Rocket’s happy trail. Ignoring the fact that he can hardly breathe, Peter swallows around Rocket's cock and hums. ]
no subject
Blinking rapidly, he forces his eyes open again, and the sight that greets him hits him with a punch of heat so overwhelming that any unease is instantly forgotten. Fuck, Peter's gorgeous like this; a flush burning across his hollowed cheeks, lips glistening and hair in disarray. Rocket groans, hand slipping down out of his hair to stroke an almost tender thumb over his cheekbone]
Shoulda put your mouth to better use years ago [His voice is unfamiliar in his own ears, low and ragged and absolutely wrecked. Another desperate shudder rolls through him as Peter takes him impossibly deeper. He tips his head back and moans, eyes fixed unseeing on the ceiling and a cleaner, sweeter kind of tension ratcheting up as his hips continue to twitch upwards of their own accord. He can feel the heat building, drawing up to a crescendo]
Fuck, I'm close—
no subject
And that's probably another reason why he doesn't drag this on more than Rocket would enjoy. It's tempting, oh, so very-much, to edge him for a little while, especially after that comment, but Peter decides to take it as praise in a very Rocket-like way.
He can make him beg for it the next time, when this thing between them isn't so new and delicate. He hadn't missed the way Rocket had gone a little too still for a moment when his hands wandered, and he doubted it was because it felt just that good. So Peter's going to be a good lover and not push their luck because he already wants it to be next time. Any snarky comments from him will wait until later, but they will eventually happen; it's how they work and how they like it. Â
Rocket looks so good too: voice ragged, head thrown back, and exposing the column of his throat. If his mouth weren't already working to make sure Rocket loses it, he would be biting and kissing up that neck, leaving marks behind. Peter looks down again, eyes half-lidded and a shudder of his own wracking his body at the view. He squeezes Rocket's thigh again in a show of acknowledgment of the warning, his nails digging a little into the flesh to add an edge to the sensation, but he's not pulling away.
Fingers wrap around Rocket's cock at the base, giving him a few firm strokes in tandem with the way Peter's boobing his head and pressing the flat of his tongue hard against the underside the cockhead. He's not doing anything to stop the other man from rocking his hips up and fucking his mouth, quite the opposite, making some little moans and swallowing thickly. ]
no subject
And then, sudden as a gunshot, it all tips past the point of no return. He sucks in a sharp breath and goes almost silent, every muscle taut and trembling as he comes.
After a few breathless moments the tension flows out of him with a low, heartfelt moan; he melts into the mattress, his fingers slipping out of Peter's hair]
Fuck.
no subject
It's not distracting enough that he doesn't feel Rocket twitch and tense up as he comes, then go totally pliant, like a bowstring that finally snapped. That low moan does think to Peter, and he swallows around him; he keeps one hand wrapped around the base of his shaft to help him ride out his orgasm. He leans back and lets Rocket slip out of his mouth before things get so sensitive that they turn painful, feeling a little dazzled himself.
Peter sighs, resting his check on the curve of Rocket's thigh and smiling like the cat who got the cream. He's pretty sure he's never seen the other man this relaxed. It makes Peter's eyes turn soft, but since Rocket's still seems too blissed out to focus on him, he knows he can get away with it without getting shit for it. He lets Rocket a few more seconds to compose himself, which Peter uses to catch his breath before he says; ]
You're not allowed to complain about my mouth ever again; I hope you realize that.
[ The blond says, sounding a little smug but soft, his voice rough due to their recent activities. He turns his head just slightly so he can give Rocket's thigh a light bite, followed by a quick, soft kiss. He would much rather yank Rocket into a proper kiss but now that things had quieted down somewhat, he isn't sure if the other would be into it still. ]
You good, sweetheart?
no subject
Definitely not gonna slow me down, but nice try.
[A shiver rolls through him at that bite, a small, approving noise caught on his lips. His fingers are stroking absently through Peter's hair, his touch distractedly gentle. He rolls his eyes, but there's no sting to it, his gaze fond] Don't "sweetheart" me, Quill.
[The embers of a banked heat are still burning low in his belly, and they flare a little brighter as he takes in Peter's dishevelled state with lazy appreciation; his hair wild, lips reddened and glistening, unabashed hunger in his eyes. Rocket's fingers tighten in his hair, urging him to shift back up the bed] C'mere.
no subject
The fingers in his hair draw a new content sigh past his lips once more, and Peter closes his eyes and draws in slow, long breaths through his nose. He might be horny at hell right now, but he's not one to waste a gentle moment when it happens to him; those are as rare in his life as witnessing a fucking unicorn. ]
Do you prefer babe? Or maybe darling. I can also offer sugah.
[ The last word comes out in a thick midwestern accent, one that Peter definitely has but rarely used while in space, tinting his voice with a honeyed tone and a lilting cadence. He smiles up at Rocket until the other man tugs at his hair, and then he can't but oblige and move.
It takes a little effort to properly crawl up the bed to him; the front of Peter's pants is painfully thigh. Before, he had managed to somehow kick his boots off at some point in what was no doubt a practiced movement, and he doesn't have to worry about them staining the sheets. The urge to sit on Rocket's lap, it's hard to resist, to bracket him between his thighs, but he doesn't want to crush him, so Peter settles for leaning in until their faces are close. ]
no subject
Maybe that's not such a bad thing. He doesn't know that he wants to take it for granted.
He snorts, shaking his head at the litany of increasingly ridiculous endearments, and gives a slow smirk as Peter crawls back up the bed to once again bracket him in against the mattress. A fresh thrill of heat shivers through him, his voice dropping to a husky murmur as he retorts] I was gonna see about returning the favor, but you're kinda giving me second thoughts here...
no subject
Tonight he considers himself even more lucky than usual, sharing his bed with a lover he knows won't deceive him or hurt him on purpose. He might be a jackass on occasion, but that's part of Rocket's appeal. ]
Tsk, my terran charms are wasted on you. [ Peter scoffs, making an exaggerated pout for a split second and sounding not at all upset. One of his hands plays with Rocket's hair, fingers carding through the strands. ] Still, let me convince you some more.
[ He presses their bodies close, chest to chest, but still holds most of his own weight on his forearms. Peter finally breaks the last inches of distance between them and kisses him heated and deep, giving a slow roll of his hips in the process. ]
no subject
He leans readily into the kiss, a low moan lost between their lips for the heat and hunger in it. He can feel how desperately fucking hard Peter is; still being trapped in his pants has to fucking hurt by this point. It's kind of hot, knowing that it's all for him.
He gives a mock-thoughtful hum against Peter's lips as they break for air] Hmm, lemme think it over—
[In his current position he doesn't have the most useful leverage. But he hasn't missed that Peter's full weight isn't on him, and that's all the opening he needs. He hooks a leg around the back of Peter's knee and braces a hand against his shoulder, and in one fluid motion pushes and twists and flips them. Peter's back hits the mattress, and suddenly Rocket's grinning down at him, all dark eyes and predatory intent as he slips a hand between them to palm Peter's dick through his pants]
no subject
He's glad that Rocket doesn't push him away, though, that maybe it's another big show of trust. Back in the day, Gamora also had some issues with unexpected touches or Peter clinging to her too much that they had to work on. He's a sucker for cuddling but, with time, he also learned to give her the space she needed and find a middle ground. Peter would be Rocket's weighed blanket any time he wants or simply stay close without touching if that's what works best for him.
He moans into the kiss in response to Rocket's willingness and the sounds the other man is making, and it's so thoroughly distracted that when Rocket flips them over, Peter lets out a startled yelp. His surprised face quickly melts into one of pure delight, and he looks up at Rocket looming over him with a smile of his own. ]
I didn't know you had it in you. [ If Peter means the strength or Rocket being this feisty, it's up in the air. He means both, so any interpretation works. The grin Rocket is giving him goes straight to his dick, and the hungry gaze makes Peter visibly shiver with anticipation. The heat of his unfulfilled pleasure is still burning low in his belly, and the feeling gets sharper when Rocket gets his hands on him, prompting Peter to throw back his head with a broken moan escaping his lips. ]
Fuck, ah... [ His hands twitch on each side of him, but he doesn't dare to reach out and touch Rocket right now, lest he stop doing whatever he has planned. He can do something else, though, and that's running his mouth in a way his friend might like. ] Rocket...Please.
no subject
His gaze is intent on Peter, attention wholly focused on him, cataloguing every detail of the shivers and moans provoked by subtle changes in the movement of his hand. A glint that probably would be worrying to anyone with functional self-preservation instincts comes into his eyes at that breathless please, at the way his name sounds ragged and greedy on Peter's lips. Fuck, he wants more of it. He wants to see where this takes them.
He leans down to lick a slow, deliberate stripe up the length of the scar that bisects Peter's collarbone, tasting fresh sweat, palm still working in a steady rhythm against the bulge in his pants. His teeth graze over the hollow of Peter's throat as he unzips his pants with a deft hand, reaching inside to free his straining cock. It's hot and desperately hard, jumping eagerly in his grip as he wraps his hand around the shaft and lifts his head to watch Peter's face as he slowly starts to stroke]
no subject
He probably should be a bit worried about the intense look that Rocket's offering him, but self-preservation has never been Peter's forte, and the whole situation only makes him want the other man more. He doesn't know what to do with his hands now, so one arm wraps around Rocket's shoulders to pull him even closer, grabbing onto him with some desperation when a tongue slides up the scar by his neck.
Every drag of Rocket's fingers against his heated skin sparks up his spine. They should probably get rid of his pants, the damn things really are in the way, but he doesn't want to do anything that implies losing that hand wrapped around his cock. Peter has to try to focus and take some deep breaths for a second, or things are going to end too fast for his liking. Almost unconsciously, his hips roll up into the contact, seeking more friction, cursing and groaning under his breath. A chocked-out moan goes past his lips even though he bites down on his bottom lip to try and stifle it. ]
no subject
Something about that stifled moan cuts straight through him, a pulse of heat and want shivering over his skin and a twitch of renewed interest from his dick] C'mon, don't hold out on me [It's a low, rough-voiced murmur, punctuated with a light but pointed squeeze of his hand. His eyes are still intent on Peter's as he cantinues stroking his dick] I wanna hear you.
no subject
It has something to do with Rocket's voice and not just the way he so deliciously works on him, stroking him just right; it's the rough voice and the command. Apparently, Peter doesn't like to be told what to do unless it happens in bed. Rocket's hands are callused, unsurprisingly, and that only adds to the sensation, making Peter shudder hard after a particularly well-aimed stroke. His thighs press against Rocket's, trembling a little, and there's that desperate want that makes Peter wish they were even closer. ]
Oh, fuck me...[ He breathes out between a few more unsteady moans, this time louder, not trying to be quiet anymore. He's pretty sure his cheeks are flushed a deep red and his eyes watery. ]
no subject
[He settles his weight in more comfortably against Peter, half draped over him, and picks up the pace of the purposeful movements of his hand. There's something intoxicating about the flush burning over Peter's skin, about hearing those moans and knowing they're for him. He gives a low, breathless curse of his own, rocking his hips lazily against Peter's thigh and watching him with dark, hungry eyes as he strokes his cock] Fuck that's hot. Fuck, c'mon—
no subject
N-next time? The night's young. [ Peter's lips quirk up, his green eyes bright. The tone is tensing but still gentle, aware of who they are and what all this means. ] Don't tell me you clock out after one round. I expect better.
[ That's a surprisingly long sentence coming from Peter, considering how most of the blood from his brain has left the premises. He hopes Rocket doesn't expect more teasing or coherent answers, especially after leaning more of his weight on him in a way that makes Peter's toes curl. Rocket tightens the grip on his cock, fast and fucking perfect, and Peter practically wails.
He clutches Rocket's shoulder like he's holding onto a lifeline, hitches one of his legs up for leverage, and locks it behind Rocket's thigh when the other man starts grinding against him. It's only a few seconds later that he's crying out, coming right after Rocket prompts him to. Peter shakes and gasps for air, burying his face in the crook of his neck, feeling like he's falling apart but comforted by the fact that Rocket's there to catch him and center him.
He shivers through an aftershock and lets himself relax, going boneless on the mattress, messy curls falling over his forehead. He's no longer grabbing at Rocket as if he's afraid he will disappear, but also not letting go of him just yet. ]
no subject
If he was ever gonna learn his lesson about letting his mouth run until it's talked him into something he doesn't know how to back down from, it would've happened long before now. He'll figure it out when he gets there. He always does.
For now, it's hard not to feel like he's got the upper hand when he's got Peter falling apart under him; shamelessly needy, making sounds that are going to be burned into his brain for the rest of his fucking life. His own dick's definitely starting to get interested in the proceedings again as he keeps working his grip in the same relentless rhythm, chasing every cry and moan like his life depends on it. Peter's a good-looking guy. He'd never particularly planned to do anything about that fact until roughly twenty minutes ago, but he's not blind. And fuck, he's never been as gorgeous as he is in this moment, every muscle taut and a look of desperate rapture on his face, arching up and crying out as he comes.
In the still, breathless moments that follow, he turns his face to rest his cheek against Peter's hair, all lazy satisfaction and a not-quite-familiar sense of fondness. He still feels almost drunk on it. Even if he doesn't quite know what to do with the way Peter's holding on to him like he doesn't want to let go, like maybe there's something in the closeness beyond just savoring the afterglow, it's...good. It feels like the way Peter had smiled at him, way back when, the first time he'd unthinkingly referred to the Milano as home.
He eases his hand free and lifts his head to inspect the wetness spilled over his fingers with an air of mild curiosity. And then, with a smirk, he holds Peter's eyes as he slowly and deliberately licks them clean]
no subject
After Rocket rests his cheek against him, Peter closes his eyes. It takes him a few seconds to figure out what the fuzzy feeling in his chest means. He's happy. Not simply blissed out because the sex is great, he feels genuinely happy for the first time in a long while. It feels so good to be pressed close to someone, to share their warmth and be playful.Â
Â
He lets out a soft whine and opens his eyes again when Rocket moves, a bit sensitive still, only to end up staring. One day you're going to be the death of me, Peter doesn't say it out loud because he doesn't want to jinx them, but he sure thinks about it as he watches Rocket lick his fingers. ]
Holy hell, that's sexy. [ He admits, because he's not made out of stone, and he's too full of endorphins to lie. Not one to hold back either, Peter runs a hand up Rocket's side chest, gently fondling it and then flicking his thumb over a nipple to check his reaction. ]
Getting back in the game already, hm? I'm going to need five minutes, and I really want to get rid of the damn pants first, please, but I also don't feel like moving just yet. I kinda like you on top, to be honest.
no subject
It definitely doesn't feel like something that's going to be a one-and-done. Not when Peter's hands are still warm and familiar against his skin, making him gasp and shudder with just a touch. He wants more; wants to dig his fingers in and map out every corner of this until he knows exactly how to take Peter apart like a misbehaving engine and put him back together so he sings under his hands.
He moans softly at that teasing touch, eyes drifting shut and lips parting as he leans into it] That's handy [It comes out slightly breathless, but he doesn't let that take the edge off his smirk] 'Cause I could get used to having you under me.
[He rocks his hips lazily, looking down at Peter with dark, lidded eyes, and slowly leans in until they're close enough for their noses to brush, his arm braced on the bunk above Peter's head] Got some big ideas about round two, huh?
no subject
And yes, Peter now has a whole new arsenal at his disposal to get under Rocket's skin and, with some luck, into his pants. Now he knows the flirting won't be unwelcome, so he will dash it out freely and pamper the other often unless Rocket tells him to stop.
The situation looks promising so far, with Rocket responding so beautifully to touches and Peter memorizing what places are safe for his hands to wander to. He's getting addicted very quickly to making Rocket shudder and mutter under his breath; the raspy way his voice turns to, it's very attractive. Â
There's no urgency now in their movements, which allows Peter to appreciate even more the feel of Rocket under his hand, and he keeps letting his fingers caress and brush over places he knows will feel good. His other hand sneaks up his partner's spine and then buries itself in the brown hair, playing with the strands. ]
Is that so? Maybe we're onto something then. [ He wants to wipe that cocky smirk off the man's face, preferably with his own mouth, and he's all too delighted when the other leans closer. Peter nuzzles the tip of his nose against Rocket's, then tilts his chin up until their lips brush. ]
You know me; I'm the best at plans. I've got a few great suggestions to share with you. Let me tell you the first one.
[ The hand playing with his hair comes to snake around the back of Rocket's neck, urging him forward, so Peter can lay a kiss on his lips. It's deceptively soft, and it doesn't take long until Peter deepens it, nipping at Rocket's bottom lip and pressing his tongue against the sting. ]
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)