[The urgency of what came before had been incredible, but there's a different kind of intensity to this; a promise he doesn't know what to do with in the way Peter touches him like they have all the time in the world to make the most of it.
It'd been a long, hard road, learning how to be part of a team. How to accept people caring about him, and to admit to himself that he cared about them too. It was worth it, in the end, even if it still feels like a thin veneer on a yawning chasm some days. But this is new even beside all of that. Being someone's focus like this is something he has no point of reference for at all. Just feeling around the edges of it is already overwhelming.
There's some automatic retort on his lips about the typical quality of Peter's plans, but whatever it would have been it's lost in the kiss, overtaken by an almost subvocal moan. He doesn't know if he loves how enthusiastically Peter's taken to having an exciting new way to shut him up, but given that he plans to use to same tactic extensively himself, possibly he doesn't get to complain.
And the perks are undeniable. A sound that's almost a growl is pulled from him at that sting of teeth, and he kisses back harder, sinking his fingers back into Peter's hair and tugging]
Yeah, okay. That one was one of your better plans [Smirk] Granted, it's a low bar...
[ Peter might have had a well-deserved reputation for being kind of a hoe in the past, but once he decides to be with someone, to make them feel good and enjoy their company, he doesn't do a half-assed job. He's going to both tease Rocket to no end and pamper him at the first opportunity when they're in private, until it gets into the man's thick head that he too is deserving of softer touches.
After losing Gamora twice, Peter hasn't exactly been looking to get his heart broken again and didn't think anyone would ever want him in that same way anyway. He's too broken and ruined for anybody to make an effort to deal with all that baggage. So this thing with Rocket comes as a very pleasant surprise and also makes him feel more vulnerable than Peter can let on.
Rocket has already seen him at his worst, and he's still here. He knows about Peter's many fuckups and flaws and still saved his life countless times in the past as if it were worth something. It's a little too much to think about, even if Peter masks it well. Hiding his insecurities behind jokes and easy touches comes easy, and he does want to touch Rocket and kiss him senseless, so that's a plus.
The hair tugging prompts Peter to moan against Rocket's mouth, the sound muffled by the harsh kissing, but impossible to miss. Oh that's unfair, playing with one of Peter's weaknesses. ]
Asshole. [ It's all he says after the kiss and the sassiness, but his voice doesn't carry any real anger, and Peter's face is flushed because of the kissing. He lightly pokes at Rocket's side in vengeance and to check if the guy's ticklish. He had never had the chance to test it without risking losing a finger, but maybe after the mind-blowing orgasms, Rocket's in a good enough mood that he won't mind too much. Or perhaps he will bite him again. Peter thinks that's not a bad outcome.
He squirms a little under him eventually, letting out a low sigh when he ends up grinding up against Rocket in the process. This position feels nice, but it would feel nicer if they were both totally naked. ]
Move a little, will you? So I can get rid of the damn pants. Besides, don't you want to take a good look at all the goods?
[Getting into a full-blown capital-R Relationship isn't a thing he's ever been looking for, really. He still doesn't know if it's something he even wants, never mind the much bigger and more uncomfortable question of whether or not he's got enough pieces left for real people shit of that magnitude. Mostly the idea of letting someone in that close kind of makes his skin crawl. He's never understood why so many people go out actively seeking it, like there's some kind of person-shaped hole at their side that they're desperately trying to fill with anyone they come across who looks like they could be made to fit.
But for all that the idea doesn't really appeal in the abstract, this is about as close as he's ever gotten, and now he's here...he doesn't hate it. The uneasy tension he's always associated with trying to open up a little is absent. And whatever happens next, Peter's part of his crew. Nothing's going to change that. They've fucking bled for each other; if this doesn't work, sure things might be weird for a while, but they've been through too much together to let it fuck them up]
Yep [The agreement is immediate, cheerful, and utterly unrepentant. Hey, he's never claimed to not be an asshole. At this stage he can only assume Peter's into it.
He gives another low growl at the teasing jab and, predictably, does indeed immediately bite. He raises his eyebrows at the nudge to move] You're the one who wanted to savor the afterglow or whatever [But he does obligingly roll off of Peter, sprawling out on the mattress with a catlike stretch and a satisfied groan]
Go on then [He reaches down to stroke his dick lazily, eyes sweeping hungrily over the outline of the promised goods] Gimme a show.
[ Peter's fine with going wherever this takes them; no pressure needed. It's new for him still, in a while, because this is Rocket and every person is different. There is a person-shaped hole in the form of Gamora in Peter's chest, but he's learned to mend it in other ways, so it hurts less as time goes by.Â
He's not expecting Rocket —or anyone, for what matters— to fill it. It would be unfair to everyone involved. That's Peter's cross to bear, but it doesn't mean there isn't space for others. They're family, they're crew; no matter what the future has in store for them, nothing's going to change that.
He has to laugh at Rocket's remorseless answer, shaking his head. Yeah, okay, he might find it more attractive than annoying these days. Exciting even.
They say the first step is admitting it. Says the self-proclaimed asshole (but one that's not 100% a dick). A squeak escapes Peter's lips at the expected bite that followed his prodding, but otherwise, he doesn't complain. It's a very manly squeak, mind you, Peter will say so, no matter what Rocket might have heard. When no brutality against his fingers happens, Peter takes it as a good sign. ]
I did. [ Also no shame in the admission; it's been good. Peter very pointedly does not mention that Rocket seemed to enjoy it too. ] I just happen to also not want to overheat. And I can't sit on your lap like this.
[ He huffs at Rocket after the man rolls over, but then Peter raises his eyebrows and gives him a look a moment later. Eyyy, he's also getting quite the show right now, not missing the way Rocket's hand sneaked down between his legs. Damn, but his cock is pretty. Not something Peter goes around thinking about on the regular about dicks that are not his own, Â but fuck it. Rocket's a handsome bastard. It's also not something he'd say out loud because otherwise the Rocket's ego would not fill into the bedroom, but the appreciation in Peter's eyes might be hard to miss.
Peter's eyes narrow, and the corner of his lips curls up into a mischievous grin. He doesn't move immediately, first running his hand through the messy curls, arching his back, and stretching on the bed, his chest rising as he does so. With a content sigh, he finally sits up on the mattress, leaning in, shoulder slightly curved inwards to give Rocket a good view of his backside for a few seconds. There's frankly a lot to see.
Peters' fingers hook around the edge of his trousers, and since they're already open and the underwear down, it only takes him a smooth movement and another shift of his hips to pull everything down and off of him. He tosses the clothes to the floor without looking; toned legs now on display, long and muscular and perfect to be wrapped around a certain someone's waist, if you asked Peter. He shifts on the bed, lying down on his side and closer enough to Rocket that he can sneak one said thighs in between the other man's leg. Peter' eyes flick down to Rocket's crotch, then back up to his face, the smirk still in place. ]
[They've seen each other naked plenty over the years— including on the day they fucking met, getting hosed down for processing in the Kyln. The whole crew's well used to living their lives in each others' space, and no-one really bats an eyelid at shit like communal showers or someone not feeling the need to lock themselves away in their bunk to get changed. They've patched up each other's hurts plenty too, got intimately familiar with more than a few scars back when they were fresh and bleeding; it's not like anyone's hiding any surprises under their clothes, is what he's getting at here. He already knows exactly what he's going to see when Peter's finished stripping off.
But that doesn't stop it from feeling new, especially when Peter's embracing that challenge to make a show of it. From the way Peter's eyes linger on him too, he feels like maybe he's not the only one thinking along similar lines, but it's hard to spare much brainpower for considering the kind of picture he must make himself when he's too busy greedily taking in every detail; the muscles in Peter's back flexing with the motion, the curve of his ass, a hipbone trailing temptingly down towards his waistband. His eyes are intent as they sweep over the skin newly bared to him, shamelessly appreciative]
You know I always got time for you, babe [Layered with sarcasm, of course, but it can't really cut too deep when he's readily pressing into the contact. He releases his grip on his cock in favor of grinding against the warm weight of Peter's thigh where it's draped over him. One hand settles at Peter's hip, pulling him in closer. He winds the other back into Peter's hair — he hadn't missed the positive response that tugging on it had got before — and pulls back slowly but firmly, encouraging Peter to bare the line of his throat for him to run his tongue along, tasting the salt of fresh sweat]
Nice show [He says, impishly, and sinks his teeth in]
[ Peter likes to think that the intent behind the action makes a hell lot of a difference. Yes, they've seen each other plenty of times in different states of undress, and it's fine; there is technically nothing out of the ordinary to be found here. But it's like seeing someone at the beach wearing a skimpy bikini, versus spending time with them in the privacy of the bedroom with only their underwear. Or, in this case, without it.
He's got permission to ogle and appreciate Rocket, a damn if he isn't going to do just that to his heart's content. It's also rewarding to get that attention in return, and coming from Rocket it makes it all the sweeter. There had been some comments about Peter's body and his weight thrown around either from Drax or Rocket himself in the past that left his pride and self-esteem a little bruised, not like he would ever admit it.
No matter how much dripping derision Rocket manages to put on that single word, it can't stop Peter from beaming even more at Rocket, clearly elated at witnessing an endearment leaving the man's lip. Frankly, it is because Rocket says it with the same contempt a professional cook would say the word 'cockroach' that it makes it endearing in its own way.
Peter lifts his thigh slightly to give Rocket more to grind against and moves closer at the first tug to his hair as if he can't get enough of Rocket. He gets the message quickly, and he's really starting to enjoy the way they manage to communicate in bed without words with the same efficiency they can do while in the middle of battle. ]
We have just started-ah. [ He grabs onto Rocket's bicep at the first pleasant sting of teeth on his neck, shuddering. His eyes go half-lidded, and he tilts his head back to offer more of the column of his throat. ] I should have known; you'd always been a biter.
[ It comes out as a pleased hum rather than a complaint. Peter runs a hand up the curve of Rocket's muscular arms, and then it trails to the center of the chest, careful to avoid brushing against the metal in his collarbone or any heavy scarring. A warm palm slides down the breastbone, then presses against Rocket's pecs, fingers rubbing and gently pinching Rocket's pink nipples, then squeezing harder. ]
So...what,...what we talked about before. You're still interested?
[He makes a muffled noise of agreement against Peter's throat as he traces over the reddened marks he's left behind with the flat of his tongue, feeling the roughness of stubble and the thrum of the pulse beating hard just under the skin. There's something viscerally satisfying about seeing those marks livid against Peter's skin, knowing he's going to be carrying them around for a little while. A tangible reminder that this actually fucking happened.
The hands on him feel fucking incredible, drawing out rolling waves of pleasure from places he wouldn't have said until right this second that he particularly gave a shit about being touched. A quiet, almost surprised sound of approval falls from his lips as those wandering fingers tease over his nipples, his hips rocking more urgently into the muscular thigh slung across his leg. He presses his face into the crook of Peter's neck, moaning softly. He doesn't know every touch can have him greedy for more like this, like nothing else fucking matters.
He goes still at the question though, the haze of want receding slightly. He doesn't need to ask what Peter means; there's no point playing coy.
The fact that he's hesitated at all already isn't great. Never show weakness is a lesson he learned early and hard, and even after finding people he trusts to cover him, it's one he's never been able to fully let go of. It would be so fucking easy to just roll with it, slam up some old familiar walls of bravado and just see where it, but...fuck, he doesn't want to. After everything he figures a scrap of honesty is the least he owes Peter. He licks suddenly dry lips and takes a steadying breath]
Interested, yeah, but I uh... [He hasn't lifted his head from where it's still tucked in with his forehead resting against the side of Peter's neck] I'm not gonna lie to you man, it's...kinda new ground. I— [ — maybe don't have the best associations with the whole concept, he doesn't say. — feel kind of weird about it and I don't know if I wanna think too hard about why, he doesn't say. ] —y'know, I know I talk a good game, but I don't actually wanna hurt you for real.
[ Not even the high collar of their new uniform might cover those red marks Rocket's leaving on him, and that will no doubt raise some questions, but Peter can't bring himself to give a fuck. There's a pleased thrill that runs up his spine at the knowledge that Rocket wants him enough to mark him, and that he doesn't care who knows. A high-pitched moan goes past his lips, even though Peter tries to keep the embarrassing whimpers to a minimum. He arches up into the contact, seeking more of the warmth of Rocket's mouth, and gets lost in the sensations, eager and pleased at the attention. He really gets sex-stupid when the other man is involved, Kriff.
Peter tries his best to reciprocate in a way that will keep drawing those soft noises out of his lover; he thinks they're quickly becoming his favorite thing to listen to after his mother's playlist. He also makes a mental note to get his mouth and teeth on Rocket's chest, not just his hands, once there's a chance.
When he stiffens, Peter only hums at him and listens. Waits. He's always known that Rocket cares, that he's more considerate and kind than it might look at first sight —pride and self-preservation and all that— but it's sweet to see that side of him come to the surface. Even if he's still hiding his face. Peter won't call him out on it. ]
That's all right. It was just an idea. We don't have to try at all, or it doesn't have to be tonight.
[ There's no disappointment in Peter's voice, and he keeps up with his touches, sometimes dragging his nails over one of Rocket's nipples to both distract him and keep him grounded. There's a promise in his words of more nights like this to happen in their future.
Any other time he might have played, goaded Rocket into giving whatever shenanigans they were doing a try, or outright dared him to. It's different now, and honesty should be answered in kind. He tilts his head to the side to nuzzle Rocket's hair and then speaks in a low voice. ]
If hurting me is your concern, then you don't have to worry. It doesn't have to be painful. And even if we fumble things at the beginning, it's not the end of the world.
[ Not to mention that Peter's threshold for pain is pretty high. Growing up with Ravagers and as the only human in this sector of the galaxy would do that to you. It wasn't pleasant, and he also has a fair share of unfortunate stories involving bed partners who couldn't understand that Terrans were not as sturdy as Xandarians. Still, he knows Rocket would never cause him pain on purpose. He feels safe with him. ]
It gets easier with practice, like disabling a bomb. You just need to be careful with the delicate bits and don't do things too harshly or too fast. [ Not his best metaphor, and if Peter had to compare himself to a weapon, he would choose a blaster, but he hopes Rocket gets the idea. ] Still, it's not something we ever need to do.
[ Since Rocket might still need some time, Peter doesn't lean back and pull him into a kiss, even though he really wants to do just that. Instead, the hand on his chest travels down his abs, a finger draws circles around his belly button, and then drags down his happy trail. It's all good; they're all good; no need to get nervous, see? ]
I'll only kick you out of bed if you snore. Sorry, man, I need my beauty sleep. [ He hopes that Rocket can feel the smile in his voice. ]
[He relaxes in against Peter again at that easy acceptance, at the way the hands moving over his skin never pause, even as some part of him still wants to bristle at any implication that he needs any kind of gentle handling. He knows full well it's fucking stupid, but there's no helping the instinct, and it stings worse when it's true. At least after all this time he's learned how to not give in to it. A few years ago he might have done something real dumb at this juncture.
He doesn't know if he could really fit words around why this sits so fucking weirdly with him. But if he's honest with himself about it...well. The Kyln was number twenty-three on his long and increasingly impressive list of prison breaks. He'll happily brag about that, share stories of some of the wilder ones, but to bust out of a prison, first you gotta be in there. The first few efforts hadn't been nearly as practiced. They'd taken some time to come together, and in the meantime he'd had to figure out real fast how to survive on the inside. It makes him feel uneasy now in a way he hadn't had the context for then, looking back and realising how fucking young he must have been, that first time. Young, and small, and pretty, and no wonder he'd looked like an easy target to the kind of scum who go looking for that sort of thing.
'Course they'd learned pretty quick that the key word missing from that description was feral. He's left plenty of bodies behind him in his time, and those particular ones he's never going to feel a shred of fucking remorse about. He's intimately familiar from his time at the lab with what it feels like to be a thing in someone else's eyes, a resource they're only interested in for whatever they could get out of him, and even if the end goal had been different...he'd been pretty fucking determined to do whatever he had to to never have to feel like that again. At the time he'd been too invested in his own survival to have much sympathy to spare for anyone who couldn't kill to make their point. You fight back if you can and you suffer if you can't; that was just the way of the fucking universe back then.Â
He resolved a long time ago to go down fighting if that was what it took not to be the guy who gets fucked over like that, but...he doesn't wanna be the other guy either. It's been a long, hard road to learning how to be better, to look past his own survival and give a shit about other people, and even now it doesn't come especially naturally. He doesn't want to be the kind of person who'd hurt someone they're supposed to care about for their own gratification. He's not in the habit of prettying up a hard truth, and he knows fine well he hasn't never taken way too much satisfaction in ending a fight more brutally than it'd started, or in shooting someone who'd done a questionable amount to earn it. Even if objectively he knows that there's no reason for Peter to ask for anything he doesn't want, on some level it still feels like risking crossing a line he doesn't know if he can come back from. He doesn't know if he wants to find out if he really would back it off if he was told to.
He doesn't know how he explains any of that; especially not when he is, frankly, still so horny his higher brain functions are on full autopilot. But he knows that he trusts Peter. Whatever comes next, it's going to be okay]
Yeah. Yeah, it's all good [He leans encouragingly into those touches, giving what reassurance he can with the closeness that he still wants to be here. A bomb might not be the right metaphor for Peter, but damned if disarming one isn't the right one for him, one that genuinely does make him feel on more solid ground with the whole concept. He regularly works with explosives that would turn him and everything else in a mile radius into a fine mist if mishandled; he knows he's more than capable of a delicate touch where it's needed. He lifts his head to catch Peter's lips in a kiss, soft and lingering, and makes his decision]
I mean, we can give it a shot, right? No reason we can't just bail if it ain't workin' out.
[ Some instinctual things about themselves are difficult to fight against, and traumas and triggers developed can't be helped. Peter has a few of them too. Anybody justifying their heinous acts with a 'they left me no option', the same excuse Ego, Thanos, and the High Evolutionary once used, makes Peter go into a blind rage. He can no longer listen to his mom's favorite ssong, Brandy ,without feeling like he's about to cry or to start breaking things. And he gets twitchy around telepaths and people who can control minds, Mantis excluded.
You can fight these instincts; you can learn to cope with them, but they don't always go away fully. If he knew what Rocket was thinking about or worried about, he would understand. He might not have been in as many prisons as the other man, but the Kyln wasn't his first one either. He had to deal with people overstepping boundaries and walking all over his personal space in the past plenty of times all his life. Hell, if he hadn't been for Groot and Rocket's intervention, his stay at the Kyln would have escalated into something deeply unpleasant. He was lucky.
But they don't talk about the things they don't talk about, and Peter doesn't know where Rocket's mind has gone for a moment; he's just happy when he feels him relax under his caresses. He doles out caresses and heavier touches, squeezing where it will feel good and lightly teasing when that might earn him another shudder or a groan from his lover.
The moment Rocket lifts his head, Peter gives him the kind of smile that only promises good things to come. He's a bit surprised about how soft the following kiss is but makes an approving little noise and nuzzles Rocket a little once it's over. ]
Yeah. Lots of other things we can do if that ends up not being our thing. I could give you a long list. A few involve my thighs. One or two might be illegal on a few planets.
[ That last part is a joke. Possibly. Who can tell for sure when Peter looks that at smug? One of those muscular thighs lifts some more, pressing up against Rocket's cock, and then he shifts on the bed to roll on his back properly and drag Rocket closer and on top of him. He had liked that before, and it seemed like the position might help Rocket feel less trapped. His hand fists Rocket's hair, and this time it's him to give a tug to get him to offer more of the column of his neck, so Peter can pepper it with kisses. He starts by sucking a mark on his own, then alternates between sucking, kissing, and nipping at it. ]
[It's weird now to think back on a time when Peter was just another bounty, and his only particular investment in keeping the guy more or less in one piece was that the notice had specified wanted alive. Would they still have stepped in, that day in the Kyln, if there hadn't been that motivation? Maybe. He's got no illusions about giving much of a shit himself, but Groot always was better than him when it came to that kind of thing, and he knows he would have backed Groot's play no matter what.
Whatever might have happened in some other world, here and now — with Peter's arms around him, a lazy heat still burning between them — he's glad it didn't go down like that. Fuck, he's glad that all the shit they've been through, somehow it still ended with them here. There's no point wishing things were different. All you can do is make the most of what you've still got left]
I like illegal [His grin is mischievous] Illegal sounds fun.
[He definitely likes Peter's thighs as well, especially when they're rubbing up against him like that, the pressure so fucking good but so tantalisingly not enough. He goes easily with the motion as Peter rolls them. A full-body shiver runs through him at the feel of Peter's hands sinking into his hair, and he leans encouragingly into the touch, readily baring his throat to that hot, eager mouth. Another rough, muttered curse falls from his lips for the sting of that mark being put on his skin, drawing him deeper into the kind of hazy heat that makes thinking too hard real difficult.
He braces his forearm against the mattress to keep his balance, and slides his free hand over Peter's skin, following the planes of muscle and the familiar lines of old scars. His hips are still rocking lazily, shamelessly rutting into the warm press of their bodies; at this angle his cock is trapped in between their stomachs, and he has the distant thought that he could probably get off just like this, grinding greedily against Peter as the hot mouth working against his throat sends fresh waves of lust shuddering through him.
But fuck, for all his misgivings, he's still him and that means curious to a fault. He wants to know what more ends up looking like. He pulls away just enough to meet Peter's gaze, a spark in his eyes not a million miles away from the look he gets in the moment it becomes clear that a job's about to tip over into a firefight]
[ The Kyln might have been a horrible place, but it's also where they started to act as a team and, in a way, look after each other. It might have been out of convenience at first and not wanting Drax to tear off their arms, but 'All's well that ends well', as they say in Terra.
It will be fun. Peter licks his lips and drags the fingers of his free hand down Rocket's spine until he's cupping the man's ass and giving a squeeze. His hips jerk up to find a rhythm against Rocket's, already a bit demanding and needy. It would be embarrassing how fast they can work each other up if it didn't feel so fucking good.
He hums against Rocekt's neck, biting a little harder when he lets out a curse and then liking the mark he's left as if to apologize for the sting. He's already shivering in delight when he feels hands slidding over his skin, and the guy's cock isn’t even in him yet. Which is not only a damn shame but something that might change in a little bit. He's glad that Rocket's curiosity has won over his worries, and that look he's giving him makes Peter feel all sorts of desired. He can feel Rocket already half-hard against his stomach, warmth bleeding through their bodies, and pressure just enough to feel good but still leaving them wanting more.
The moment Rocket asks the questions Peter's eyes blaze with want. He is nothing if not enthusiastic in everything he does, and this is not the exception. Sex is especially not the exception, in fact. ]
We're going to need to grab something first before you can fuck me into the mattress until we can't see straight. It's on my nightstand, second drawer, a small bottle. It's been a long while since I used it, but I'm pretty sure that lube doesn't expire.
[ Actually, he has no idea if that's true, but he's sure as hell not going to waste time checking. Peter trusts Rocket with his life; trusting him with his body is not difficult at all. Right now all he wants is to bring up the steps to him in a way that won't freak him up, with some luck, it will turn Rocket on further. That's what Peter's aiming for. His hands find the man's stomach and chest once again, fingers running up hungrily as he speaks. There's a glint in Peter's green eyes and a smirk playing on his lips.]
You need to put your fingers in me and open me up nice and good until I am relaxed enough. Or I can do it myself while you watch. What sounds best to you?
[He wasn't prepared for just how hard and fast they can fire each other up but he sure as hell isn't complaining about it. He curses sharply for the sting of Peter's teeth at his throat, only to relax back into it with a shuddering moan with that soothing press of tongue, arching up greedily into the touch of the hands moving over his skin. Even for the promise of better yet to come, he's reluctant to move. It feels so much better than he would have thought possible being exactly where he is, and he doesn't want to give it up just yet.
But no-one could ever accuse Peter of approaching things with anything less than complete enthusiasm, and he's fully aware of the force of the puppy eyes are are going to get turned on him if he teases for too long. He straightens up, fingertips trailing down Peter's chest with the movement, and balances himself with a hand braced on Peter's thigh as he leans over to fish around in the drawer as instructed. After a few moments he pulls out a likely-looking bottle and tosses it over for Peter to catch] This one?
[His stomach flips over at the offered choice, both options sparking some incapacitatingly hot mental images. He licks his lips slowly, looking down at Peter with hungry eyes, and makes his choice]
I wanna watch.
Edited (Fucked up the html) 2024-11-19 21:03 (UTC)
[ He loves the sounds Rocket is making, and any other time Peter would like nothing more but to keep biting him and kissing it better later, to make him forget about any worries he might still have in mind. ]
The one and only. [ He grabs the bottle without looking, his reflexes doing the hard work as he keeps his eyes trained on Rocket's body with shameless want. He is not at all surprised that Rocket goes for the second option.
Gotta do everything by myself around here. Peter quips, but given how it is followed by him dragging Rocket close for another hot, open-mouthed kiss, it's safe to assume he's just playing. He touches Rocket's face, fingers trailing down his cheeks and then lower. Palm flat against Rocket's chest, Peter gives him a nudge. ]
Lie back down again so I have room to work,handsome. [ He shifts on the bed, looking at Rocket expectantly, but not rushing him more than that. The moment Rocket's lies down, Peter is going to turn around and swing one of his legs over both of Rocket's. He ends up sitting on the man's lap with his back to him, thighs bracketing Rocket's own, back slightly curving, and ass turned up.
Knees now digging on the mattress, Peter keeps most of his weight on them and only a hand braced on Rocket's thigh for balance as he looks over his shoulder at the other man. ]
All good? [ The only disadvantage of this position is that he can't see Rocket's properly, but it's also not his face that Peter wants his lover to look at. You win some, you lose some. ] You can touch me, you know.
[ Peter winks at him. He would feel a little better if Rocket did touch him; otherwise, it is so new for them to be doing this, and he worries it might get awkward. Not like he has any shame on what he's doing, but he likes the reminder that Rocket's there with him.
Uncapping the bottle with a flick of his thumb, Peter slicks up his fingers and then drops the bottle on the mattress, while his other hand reaches around his body to spread his ass cheeks. He reaches around his body to brush his fingers around the rim, without rushing because he needs to take things slow too, even if Peter can feel his skin warming up and a blush rise on his chest. Finally, with a softly muttered moan, he pushes one finger in and rocks against it, only going first knuckle deep and shuddering. ]
[He doesn't know what to do with how the way Peter looks at him makes him feel. The idea of being wanted isn't completely alien, and after all this time he's just about come to terms with being cared about, but there's something about getting both at once from someone who really fucking matters to him that he's completely unequipped to deal with. It's too much, but fuck, he doesn't want it to stop.
He's reluctant to break that kiss, but for the promise of what's to come he lets himself be gently pushed away, rolling back into a comfortable sprawl on the mattress. His breath catches sharply as Peter moves to straddle him before escaping again in a rough curse, his gaze shamelessly appreciative as it moves over Peter's broad shoulders, the muscles of his back, the mouthwatering swell of his ass. He doesn't need any more encouragement to appreciate with his hands as well as his eyes; he props himself up on one elbow and slides a hand up Peter's thigh to settle at his hip and grip there, giving a wolfish grin as their eyes meet over Peter's shoulder and a shallow, teasing thrust up against him.
The sound of the cap popping open is loud in the hush of the room, and his mouth goes suddenly dry with anticipation. He licks his lips slowly, his hand squeezing lightly on Peter's hip, eyes fixed on the movement of his hand like he couldn't look away if his life depended on it. A punch of blind lust hits him like tidal wave, erasing any capacity for rational thought. In what feels like the space of a heartbeat he goes from half-mast to hard enough to cut fucking glass]
Fuck, Peter... [It's barely more than a ragged breath, fervent as a prayer. He shifts his weight to sit up more fully, his hand sliding up Peter's flank as he leans in to press a kiss between his shoulderblades] Fuck, that's hot.
[ He likes Rocket thinking like that, enjoying the moment, even if he's still not used to the devotion. Being affectionate isn't simply something Peter can ignore or stop himself from doing, and he also doesn't want to. Rocket's one of the most important people in his life; he wll make sure he has a spectacular night and some decent good memories.
He's not unaffected either by the way the other man looks at him, or by how Rocket's skilled fingers often leave him hungry for more and practically panting with need. Peter gasps and arches up as a warm hand slides up his leg and settles on the curve of his hip, the deceptive simple touch sending sparks over his body. He's left speechless at the sight of that grin, and the nudge leaves him dreaming about harder thrusts and nails digging into his skin, gripping him more tightly to keep him in place. He thinks of hands yanking at his hair as Rocket pounds into him and has to suppress another shiver.
His body jerks with a muffled groan at the caress, and then there's the press of warm lips on his back that makes Peter's brain short-circuit. It's hot and sweet, and it prompts him to let out a low and long moan while he presses two fingers in and starts working on a rhythm. His eyes fluttered and eh titled his head back again to give Rocket a coy smile.]
I wish it were you already. [ He's not going to be able to make coherent sentences for much longer, and Rocket can't judge him. He's being distracting, so close and still too far away. ] R- Rocket.
[ Peter whimpers before he cuts himself off, biting his bottom lip and scissoring his fingers inside of him. He's being hasty, the drag of the fingers causing the kind of friction and pressure that's still not fully on the side of pleasant, but he's never been a patient man. It's only a little bit uncomfortable, and he knows it will get better if he relaxes. He's trying to force himself to do so, taking long breaths in between little whimpers. ]
[Those noises cut right through him, striking some deep-seated place of visceral want and need. He wants more, so badly he aches with it, and it's pretty fucking clear he's not the only one. It's hard to hold onto whatever misgivings he may have had — or any other rational thoughts for that matter — in the face of how fucking much Peter obviously wants this, wants him]
Yeah? [A smile curls on his lips, and he bites at the meat of Peter's shoulder before tracing over the mark with his tongue. He slides his hand across Peter's chest and down his stomach, still scattering bites and kisses over his shoulders, and toys with the trail of hair leading further downward. The brush of his fingertips is light, teasing, as they follow that path, stopping just short of brushing the base of his cock] Say the word and I'm all yours.
[Slowly and deliberately he wraps a hand around Peter's cock, stroking with a torturously slow pace. His hips are still rocking up thoughtlessly into the warmth of Peter's body, grinding against his inner thigh. He rests his forehead against Peter's back and gives a low groan, overwhelmed with want and need] I want you so fucking bad.
[ Peter lets out a vague humming sound that exists in between an agreement to the question and another stifled moan. He should know by now that when Rocket smiles like that, it means trouble, but he's too turned on by it to focus on the warning signs. ]
Ohh, fuck! [ His hips buck so hard at the bite that Peter nearly loses his balance, fingers pressing deeper inside himself at the sudden movement and giving him yet another reason to cry out.
He only has a second to brace himself before Rocket goes on with the touches and nips, deliberately making sure Peter loses his goddamn mind in the process. He arches into the contact instinctively, seeking more of the peasant sting of those sharp teeth and the soothing wet warmth of the tongue that follows.
Rocket's fingers wrap around his hard cock, and Peter full-body shudders through another moan. Peter almost wants to snap back that Rocket isn't helping, and that he needs the few neurons available to focus on easing himself enough for Rocket to actually be able to fuck him. All that comes out when he opens his mouth is a small sound of fucking surprise when Rocket admits he's just as affected. It's all too much and not enough all at once. ]
Kriff, yes, give me just a few minutes. [ Peter murmurs in a rush, sounds like he had the wind knocked out of him, his voice rough. He hesitates a second before he presses a third finger in beside the others and twists them in deeper, the movement is now smoother and more pleasant, but not perfect because it still isn't Rocket. He can't think beyond, fuck and gods, please to care all that much about waiting for much longer.
His free hand reaches back behind himself, and threads his fingers into Rocket's hair, nails scraping mind-meltingly across his scalp. ]
Come on, big boy. [ Peter retreats his other fingers and makes a noise that sounds wrecked even to himself, thighs shaking. He feels so empty all of a sudden. He arches back, pressing his ass against Rocket's groin in a slow roll. His green eyes are blown, and his mouth is red and swollen where he's been biting at it. ] I need you, Rocket. Fuck, come on.
[He's always been fascinated by the opportunity to really dig his fingers into something and figure out how it responds under his hands; that's just as true here and now with flesh as it's ever been with metal. Part of him is still amazed that he can really have such a strong effect on Peter. If he'd given it any thought beforehand, he would have assumed that obviously he'd be stuck playing catch-up the whole time, given how relatively inexperienced he is. He never would have imagined that Peter would be so eager under his hands, arching into every touch and crying out for more.
He is, at his heart, kind of a dickhead, so obviously he can't resist the urge to continue teasing and distracting as best he can while Peter's trying to concentrate. It's something that could easily become addictive: drawing out curses and moans with every pass of his hand and scrape of his teeth, feeling Peter shudder under his touch, and knowing that he's driving the other man absolutely insane.
He moans softly as Peter's fingers slide through his hair and tilts his head encouragingly into the touch, a sound that's almost a whine falling from his lips for the light scrape of blunt nails over his scalp.
Lost in how fucking good it all feels, it takes him a moment to catch up with what's happening. And then realization hits him with a punch of lust so intense it feels a little like taking a bullet. He swallows thickly, heart pounding in his chest as he moves to line up. Both of his hands slide round to grip Peter's hips firmly]
I got you [It's a low, rough murmur, breathed like a promise against one of the countless small scars littering Peter's upper back. He shifts his hips, his breath catching with a convulsive shudder that rolls right through him as the head up his dick nudges up against the slick cleft of Peter's ass. His grip tightens, encouraging Peter to sink down, and then—] Oh, fuck—
[—and then he's slipping inside, inch by maddening fucking inch, and fuck he can't breathe. The world is narrowed to nothing but the way Peter feels around him, hot and slick and dizzyingly tight. He closes his eyes and presses his forehead against Peter's shoulder, panting] Holy shit.
[ If Rocket wants to test his skills and satisfy his curiosity further, Peter has a few ideas about where he can dig his fingers into the next time they have sex.
He knows that Rocket is a quick study and that a hands-on approach to things, especially when it comes to fucking, makes the lessons stick. Peter regrets a little just how fast Rocket learned how to metaphorically slam his hand down on all the buttons inside of his head that make him all hot and bothered, hitting every single one. But it's a small regret. Feeling this good is worth the occasional whine and pathetic sound that escapes his lips every time a particularly well-aimed bite happens. His back and neck must be already covered in red marks and hickeys; he sort of loves it.
It's a relief to know he's not the only one affected. Rocket's hard cock pressings against him and the way the guy moans when he grabs at his hair are proof enough. That whine Rocket let on might be one of Peter's favorite sounds from now on. He wished she could turn around properly and kiss the daylight out of him, but that will have to wait. He also wants to grab Rocket and pull him close, finally feel the heat of him pressed inside, but lets the other man guide things at his own pace.
Rocket's reassurance eases something in his chest too, making Peter's burning urgency relent. He feels anchored by the hand gripping his hips. Safe. And fuck, oh fuck, if it isn't rewarding when Rocket lines himself up and pushes into him.
His knees shift on the bed to spread his legs wider and make it easier for Rocket to slide all the way in, and he's so slow and careful that Peter thinks he might die before Rocket bottoms out. He appreciates the other man not simply slamming into him because the burn and stretch of his cock are already making Peter lightheaded. Moving any faster might have ended things too quickly for both of them before the real fun started. He allows himself to smile in between panted breaths when he feels Rocket's forehead pressed to his back. ]
Y...aah, yeah. Holy shit. [ Peter couldn't agree more, giving one slow roll of his hips back against the firm body behind him. One of his hands settles on top of Rocket's, whose nails are now leaving crescent moon-shaped marks on his hipbone, and gives it a reassuring squeeze. They take a few seconds to just breathe and get used to the sensations, while they both breathe deeply and try not to come all at once. ]
You feel incredible already. You can, ah, gods ... [ He shudders, squeezing his muscles around Rocket before he can find his voice again. Rocket's hips are pressed against his ass, and Peter makes a content noise in the back of his throat that is completely involuntary. His thumb rubs small circles over the pulse in Rocket's wrist. ] You can fuck me once you're ready. You won't hurt me, don't worry. You can't hurt me.
[His grip on Peter's hips is going to leave bruises behind. There's a pang of unease in some deeply buried part of him at that thought, but it's hard to hold onto it in the face of how overwhelmed his senses are. The warm, reassuring hand sliding over his own helps too, steadying and grounding him. He takes in another slow, shaky breath and makes an effort to pull himself together.
Even this far gone he still wants to protest that you can't hurt me, some incredulous voice deep in his skull whispering you can't possibly think that's true. He knows Peter knows the kind of damage he's capable of doing even unarmed. He can't wrap his head around how fucking much Peter trusts him. Peter's in a vulnerable position right now; it would be so, so easy to hurt him.Â
But fuck, he doesn't want to. He wants desperately to deserve the kind of trust he's been given.
The sound that's torn from his throat as as he gives the first shallow, exploratory roll of his hips is a broken, ragged thing. He doesn't have much leverage in his current position, but even unable to do much more than grind up into Peter, the motion is more than enough to have sparks going off behind his eyes. He relaxes his grip just enough to wrap his arms around Peter's waist, nuzzling into the nape of his neck with a low, heartfelt groan]
C'mon [His voice is low and rough, thick with desire, as he rocks his hips encouragingly] You gonna make me do all the work here?
[ If Peter cared about cruises and rough sex, he wouldn't have dated for more than four years someone who could fold him in half and who was once known as the deadliest woman in the galaxy. Much like Rocket, Gamora, too, had been worried about hurting Peter. They figured things out and found a balance, and he's sure the same will happen with his new lover. There are very few situations where Peter would be more at someone's mercy than he is now, but he knows that, just as he knows Rocket won't cause him pain on purpose.
A few messy curls dangle in front of his forehead when he looks over his shoulder, and Peter manages to catch his breath long enough to say: ]
Oh, you want me to show you how it's done? [ He's smiling, looking smug at the implications of what Rocket might just have gotten himself into. ] Very well.
[ He wants to make this good, needs to make this as good for Rocket as the other man's made him feel already, and luckily sex is as natural to Peter as building things is to Rocket. He suspected once or twice that it might have something to do with his celestial heritage, but that's not in his mind right now.
He lifts his hips and ground down on Rocket, slow going at first, arching backward to take him deeper, adjusting to the stretch from his thick cock. He rocks back and forth, working on a rhythm, and eventually moving faster. Peter's dick is throbbing, pre-come sliding down the shaft, but he's now keeping his hands on Rocket's legs for balance as he rides him. He's not speaking anymore, but he's also not quiet, letting out little whimpers, small gasps, and breathless moans. A groan bursts from his mouth, and he bows his head forward, clenching down around the cock inside him when the angle makes it brush against his sweet-spot. ]
[If he'd thought he was losing his fucking mind before, it's nothing beside how it feels to have Peter riding him like he can't get enough, like getting to take his dick is the best thing that's ever fucking happened to him. The noises he's making are fucking addictive, and Rocket can feel answering moans and curses and filth falling carelessly from his own lips. His hands are roaming greedily over Peter's skin, fingers digging in here and there to feel the flex of solid muscle. It's a heady feeling, having all that strength and power under his hands, focused on nothing but bringing them both as much pleasure as possible.
It feels incredible, too much and not enough all at once, and fuck he can't take not having the leverage to move any more. With one last parting bite to Peter's shoulder he lets himself fall back onto the mattress. His hands find Peter's hips again, gripping hard over the tender spots of those nascent bruises; he shifts to plant his feet and brace his shoulders against the mattress and finally, finally get enough purchase to actually thrust. His hips snap up, hard, and he gasps out a choked-off profanity at how fucking good it feels. It's animal instinct to repeat the motion, chasing that spike of pleasure, and he quickly finds a rhythm with the way Peter's riding him. He can feel the strain in his muscles, a rapidly building burn from the position, but it's more than fucking worth it.
The air is full of the obscenely slick sounds of flesh on flesh, underscored by rhythmic gasps and moans and the creaking of the mattress, and it only makes it hotter]
Oh, fuck, Peter— [It's a desperate, breathless moan, voice thick around the other man's name as though it's the filthiest swearword he knows and none of the others are up to the task] Fuck, c'mon, you feel so fucking good...
[ The sting of the bite goes right to Peter’s groin, heat settling in his lower stomach, and the hands gripping at him or caressing him just right are making him keen. Eyes fluttering shut and mouth hanging open, he runs a hand through his own hair, gripping at it while murmuring a litany of fuckfuckufuck under his breath like it's some sort of prayer. He hadn't had this much attention and care, and a good railing, from a partner in so long that he had forgotten how alive it makes him feel too.
He's so used to fighting, to nursing his injuries, to the lingering pain that's both physical and emotional that having a moment to just let go of all that and enjoy what feels good is like a gift. He no longer doubts whether Rocket is truly enjoying himself and feels comfortable with what they're doing. The way they would be at risk of breaking the bed if it weren't bolted to the metal floor is proof enough.
Even though the fingers holding his hips should have been an indication, he's entirely unprepared by Rocket's eagerness once he gets enough leverage. His hands grip him to pull him downward as Rocket moves his hips in a hard thrust upward that has Peter wailing and seeing stars, the sudden pressure making his eyes snap open. ]
Ahh, oh gods, don't stop, don't... [ He hopes his voice isn't really as wrecked as he sounds to his own ears, but Peter's not fully counting on it. His thighs tremble for a few moments; pleasure vibrates through him with every rough snap, building up to a quick crescendo, and Peter knows he's not going to last. Not when Rocket is like this, sounding like this, and especially not when the new angle makes it so his cock is pushing just right against Peter's prostate with every roll of his hips. ]
Rocket!, I'm...! [ The sentence breaks with a desperate cry, and Peter moans deep in his throat, throwing his head back and falling apart at the seams. His eyes screw shut with half-formed tears as he comes, body trembling and then going tense, his muscles clenching around Rocket still buried inside him. ]
[There's a brief pang of regret that he can't see Peter's face, that he doesn't get to watch the expressions that match those shameless, needy sounds. He'll just have to make sure he gets to next time. And fuck, it's a little startling in a way he does not have the spare brainpower to examine right now to realize that he really does believe there's going to be a next time.
He keeps up the relentless pace, responding to those desperate pleas. The building burn in his muscles only puts a sharper edge on the pleasure, a satisfying ache like the one left behind after a hard-won fight. They're both close enough now that the rhythm is starting to falter, their movements going erratic with urgency. He tightens his grip and from somewhere finds the purchase to put a little more power behind his thrusts, the mindless litany of filth and praise falling from his lips turning increasingly incoherent]
You feel so fucking good, fuck— c'mon, c'mon gorgeous, I wanna feel you come for me—
[The noise he makes as Peter goes suddenly tight around him is sharp and desperate and as much surprised as anything else, the feeling overwhelming his senses, and he slams home once, twice before his hips are stuttering helplessly with a broken keening noise as he follows him over the edge.
He melts back into the mattress, panting; another thin, high sound catches on his lips as the aftershocks ripple through him. His thumb strokes slowly over Peter's hip, distractedly gentle, as he tries to remember how to fucking breathe] Fuck.
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It'd been a long, hard road, learning how to be part of a team. How to accept people caring about him, and to admit to himself that he cared about them too. It was worth it, in the end, even if it still feels like a thin veneer on a yawning chasm some days. But this is new even beside all of that. Being someone's focus like this is something he has no point of reference for at all. Just feeling around the edges of it is already overwhelming.
There's some automatic retort on his lips about the typical quality of Peter's plans, but whatever it would have been it's lost in the kiss, overtaken by an almost subvocal moan. He doesn't know if he loves how enthusiastically Peter's taken to having an exciting new way to shut him up, but given that he plans to use to same tactic extensively himself, possibly he doesn't get to complain.
And the perks are undeniable. A sound that's almost a growl is pulled from him at that sting of teeth, and he kisses back harder, sinking his fingers back into Peter's hair and tugging]
Yeah, okay. That one was one of your better plans [Smirk] Granted, it's a low bar...
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After losing Gamora twice, Peter hasn't exactly been looking to get his heart broken again and didn't think anyone would ever want him in that same way anyway. He's too broken and ruined for anybody to make an effort to deal with all that baggage. So this thing with Rocket comes as a very pleasant surprise and also makes him feel more vulnerable than Peter can let on.
Rocket has already seen him at his worst, and he's still here. He knows about Peter's many fuckups and flaws and still saved his life countless times in the past as if it were worth something. It's a little too much to think about, even if Peter masks it well. Hiding his insecurities behind jokes and easy touches comes easy, and he does want to touch Rocket and kiss him senseless, so that's a plus.
The hair tugging prompts Peter to moan against Rocket's mouth, the sound muffled by the harsh kissing, but impossible to miss. Oh that's unfair, playing with one of Peter's weaknesses. ]
Asshole. [ It's all he says after the kiss and the sassiness, but his voice doesn't carry any real anger, and Peter's face is flushed because of the kissing. He lightly pokes at Rocket's side in vengeance and to check if the guy's ticklish. He had never had the chance to test it without risking losing a finger, but maybe after the mind-blowing orgasms, Rocket's in a good enough mood that he won't mind too much. Or perhaps he will bite him again. Peter thinks that's not a bad outcome.
He squirms a little under him eventually, letting out a low sigh when he ends up grinding up against Rocket in the process. This position feels nice, but it would feel nicer if they were both totally naked. ]
Move a little, will you? So I can get rid of the damn pants. Besides, don't you want to take a good look at all the goods?
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But for all that the idea doesn't really appeal in the abstract, this is about as close as he's ever gotten, and now he's here...he doesn't hate it. The uneasy tension he's always associated with trying to open up a little is absent. And whatever happens next, Peter's part of his crew. Nothing's going to change that. They've fucking bled for each other; if this doesn't work, sure things might be weird for a while, but they've been through too much together to let it fuck them up]
Yep [The agreement is immediate, cheerful, and utterly unrepentant. Hey, he's never claimed to not be an asshole. At this stage he can only assume Peter's into it.
He gives another low growl at the teasing jab and, predictably, does indeed immediately bite. He raises his eyebrows at the nudge to move] You're the one who wanted to savor the afterglow or whatever [But he does obligingly roll off of Peter, sprawling out on the mattress with a catlike stretch and a satisfied groan]
Go on then [He reaches down to stroke his dick lazily, eyes sweeping hungrily over the outline of the promised goods] Gimme a show.
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He's not expecting Rocket —or anyone, for what matters— to fill it. It would be unfair to everyone involved. That's Peter's cross to bear, but it doesn't mean there isn't space for others. They're family, they're crew; no matter what the future has in store for them, nothing's going to change that.
He has to laugh at Rocket's remorseless answer, shaking his head. Yeah, okay, he might find it more attractive than annoying these days. Exciting even.
They say the first step is admitting it. Says the self-proclaimed asshole (but one that's not 100% a dick). A squeak escapes Peter's lips at the expected bite that followed his prodding, but otherwise, he doesn't complain. It's a very manly squeak, mind you, Peter will say so, no matter what Rocket might have heard. When no brutality against his fingers happens, Peter takes it as a good sign. ]
I did. [ Also no shame in the admission; it's been good. Peter very pointedly does not mention that Rocket seemed to enjoy it too. ] I just happen to also not want to overheat. And I can't sit on your lap like this.
[ He huffs at Rocket after the man rolls over, but then Peter raises his eyebrows and gives him a look a moment later. Eyyy, he's also getting quite the show right now, not missing the way Rocket's hand sneaked down between his legs. Damn, but his cock is pretty. Not something Peter goes around thinking about on the regular about dicks that are not his own, Â but fuck it. Rocket's a handsome bastard. It's also not something he'd say out loud because otherwise the Rocket's ego would not fill into the bedroom, but the appreciation in Peter's eyes might be hard to miss.
Peter's eyes narrow, and the corner of his lips curls up into a mischievous grin. He doesn't move immediately, first running his hand through the messy curls, arching his back, and stretching on the bed, his chest rising as he does so. With a content sigh, he finally sits up on the mattress, leaning in, shoulder slightly curved inwards to give Rocket a good view of his backside for a few seconds. There's frankly a lot to see.
Peters' fingers hook around the edge of his trousers, and since they're already open and the underwear down, it only takes him a smooth movement and another shift of his hips to pull everything down and off of him. He tosses the clothes to the floor without looking; toned legs now on display, long and muscular and perfect to be wrapped around a certain someone's waist, if you asked Peter. He shifts on the bed, lying down on his side and closer enough to Rocket that he can sneak one said thighs in between the other man's leg. Peter' eyes flick down to Rocket's crotch, then back up to his face, the smirk still in place. ]
Did I interrupt you, babe?
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But that doesn't stop it from feeling new, especially when Peter's embracing that challenge to make a show of it. From the way Peter's eyes linger on him too, he feels like maybe he's not the only one thinking along similar lines, but it's hard to spare much brainpower for considering the kind of picture he must make himself when he's too busy greedily taking in every detail; the muscles in Peter's back flexing with the motion, the curve of his ass, a hipbone trailing temptingly down towards his waistband. His eyes are intent as they sweep over the skin newly bared to him, shamelessly appreciative]
You know I always got time for you, babe [Layered with sarcasm, of course, but it can't really cut too deep when he's readily pressing into the contact. He releases his grip on his cock in favor of grinding against the warm weight of Peter's thigh where it's draped over him. One hand settles at Peter's hip, pulling him in closer. He winds the other back into Peter's hair — he hadn't missed the positive response that tugging on it had got before — and pulls back slowly but firmly, encouraging Peter to bare the line of his throat for him to run his tongue along, tasting the salt of fresh sweat]
Nice show [He says, impishly, and sinks his teeth in]
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He's got permission to ogle and appreciate Rocket, a damn if he isn't going to do just that to his heart's content. It's also rewarding to get that attention in return, and coming from Rocket it makes it all the sweeter. There had been some comments about Peter's body and his weight thrown around either from Drax or Rocket himself in the past that left his pride and self-esteem a little bruised, not like he would ever admit it.
No matter how much dripping derision Rocket manages to put on that single word, it can't stop Peter from beaming even more at Rocket, clearly elated at witnessing an endearment leaving the man's lip. Frankly, it is because Rocket says it with the same contempt a professional cook would say the word 'cockroach' that it makes it endearing in its own way.
Peter lifts his thigh slightly to give Rocket more to grind against and moves closer at the first tug to his hair as if he can't get enough of Rocket. He gets the message quickly, and he's really starting to enjoy the way they manage to communicate in bed without words with the same efficiency they can do while in the middle of battle. ]
We have just started-ah. [ He grabs onto Rocket's bicep at the first pleasant sting of teeth on his neck, shuddering. His eyes go half-lidded, and he tilts his head back to offer more of the column of his throat. ] I should have known; you'd always been a biter.
[ It comes out as a pleased hum rather than a complaint. Peter runs a hand up the curve of Rocket's muscular arms, and then it trails to the center of the chest, careful to avoid brushing against the metal in his collarbone or any heavy scarring. A warm palm slides down the breastbone, then presses against Rocket's pecs, fingers rubbing and gently pinching Rocket's pink nipples, then squeezing harder. ]
So...what,...what we talked about before. You're still interested?
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The hands on him feel fucking incredible, drawing out rolling waves of pleasure from places he wouldn't have said until right this second that he particularly gave a shit about being touched. A quiet, almost surprised sound of approval falls from his lips as those wandering fingers tease over his nipples, his hips rocking more urgently into the muscular thigh slung across his leg. He presses his face into the crook of Peter's neck, moaning softly. He doesn't know every touch can have him greedy for more like this, like nothing else fucking matters.
He goes still at the question though, the haze of want receding slightly. He doesn't need to ask what Peter means; there's no point playing coy.
The fact that he's hesitated at all already isn't great. Never show weakness is a lesson he learned early and hard, and even after finding people he trusts to cover him, it's one he's never been able to fully let go of. It would be so fucking easy to just roll with it, slam up some old familiar walls of bravado and just see where it, but...fuck, he doesn't want to. After everything he figures a scrap of honesty is the least he owes Peter. He licks suddenly dry lips and takes a steadying breath]
Interested, yeah, but I uh... [He hasn't lifted his head from where it's still tucked in with his forehead resting against the side of Peter's neck] I'm not gonna lie to you man, it's...kinda new ground. I— [ — maybe don't have the best associations with the whole concept, he doesn't say. — feel kind of weird about it and I don't know if I wanna think too hard about why, he doesn't say. ] —y'know, I know I talk a good game, but I don't actually wanna hurt you for real.
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Peter tries his best to reciprocate in a way that will keep drawing those soft noises out of his lover; he thinks they're quickly becoming his favorite thing to listen to after his mother's playlist. He also makes a mental note to get his mouth and teeth on Rocket's chest, not just his hands, once there's a chance.
When he stiffens, Peter only hums at him and listens. Waits. He's always known that Rocket cares, that he's more considerate and kind than it might look at first sight —pride and self-preservation and all that— but it's sweet to see that side of him come to the surface. Even if he's still hiding his face. Peter won't call him out on it. ]
That's all right. It was just an idea. We don't have to try at all, or it doesn't have to be tonight.
[ There's no disappointment in Peter's voice, and he keeps up with his touches, sometimes dragging his nails over one of Rocket's nipples to both distract him and keep him grounded. There's a promise in his words of more nights like this to happen in their future.
Any other time he might have played, goaded Rocket into giving whatever shenanigans they were doing a try, or outright dared him to. It's different now, and honesty should be answered in kind. He tilts his head to the side to nuzzle Rocket's hair and then speaks in a low voice. ]
If hurting me is your concern, then you don't have to worry. It doesn't have to be painful. And even if we fumble things at the beginning, it's not the end of the world.
[ Not to mention that Peter's threshold for pain is pretty high. Growing up with Ravagers and as the only human in this sector of the galaxy would do that to you. It wasn't pleasant, and he also has a fair share of unfortunate stories involving bed partners who couldn't understand that Terrans were not as sturdy as Xandarians. Still, he knows Rocket would never cause him pain on purpose. He feels safe with him. ]
It gets easier with practice, like disabling a bomb. You just need to be careful with the delicate bits and don't do things too harshly or too fast. [ Not his best metaphor, and if Peter had to compare himself to a weapon, he would choose a blaster, but he hopes Rocket gets the idea. ] Still, it's not something we ever need to do.
[ Since Rocket might still need some time, Peter doesn't lean back and pull him into a kiss, even though he really wants to do just that. Instead, the hand on his chest travels down his abs, a finger draws circles around his belly button, and then drags down his happy trail. It's all good; they're all good; no need to get nervous, see? ]
I'll only kick you out of bed if you snore. Sorry, man, I need my beauty sleep. [ He hopes that Rocket can feel the smile in his voice. ]
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He doesn't know if he could really fit words around why this sits so fucking weirdly with him. But if he's honest with himself about it...well. The Kyln was number twenty-three on his long and increasingly impressive list of prison breaks. He'll happily brag about that, share stories of some of the wilder ones, but to bust out of a prison, first you gotta be in there. The first few efforts hadn't been nearly as practiced. They'd taken some time to come together, and in the meantime he'd had to figure out real fast how to survive on the inside. It makes him feel uneasy now in a way he hadn't had the context for then, looking back and realising how fucking young he must have been, that first time. Young, and small, and pretty, and no wonder he'd looked like an easy target to the kind of scum who go looking for that sort of thing.
'Course they'd learned pretty quick that the key word missing from that description was feral. He's left plenty of bodies behind him in his time, and those particular ones he's never going to feel a shred of fucking remorse about. He's intimately familiar from his time at the lab with what it feels like to be a thing in someone else's eyes, a resource they're only interested in for whatever they could get out of him, and even if the end goal had been different...he'd been pretty fucking determined to do whatever he had to to never have to feel like that again. At the time he'd been too invested in his own survival to have much sympathy to spare for anyone who couldn't kill to make their point. You fight back if you can and you suffer if you can't; that was just the way of the fucking universe back then.Â
He resolved a long time ago to go down fighting if that was what it took not to be the guy who gets fucked over like that, but...he doesn't wanna be the other guy either. It's been a long, hard road to learning how to be better, to look past his own survival and give a shit about other people, and even now it doesn't come especially naturally. He doesn't want to be the kind of person who'd hurt someone they're supposed to care about for their own gratification. He's not in the habit of prettying up a hard truth, and he knows fine well he hasn't never taken way too much satisfaction in ending a fight more brutally than it'd started, or in shooting someone who'd done a questionable amount to earn it. Even if objectively he knows that there's no reason for Peter to ask for anything he doesn't want, on some level it still feels like risking crossing a line he doesn't know if he can come back from. He doesn't know if he wants to find out if he really would back it off if he was told to.
He doesn't know how he explains any of that; especially not when he is, frankly, still so horny his higher brain functions are on full autopilot. But he knows that he trusts Peter. Whatever comes next, it's going to be okay]
Yeah. Yeah, it's all good [He leans encouragingly into those touches, giving what reassurance he can with the closeness that he still wants to be here. A bomb might not be the right metaphor for Peter, but damned if disarming one isn't the right one for him, one that genuinely does make him feel on more solid ground with the whole concept. He regularly works with explosives that would turn him and everything else in a mile radius into a fine mist if mishandled; he knows he's more than capable of a delicate touch where it's needed. He lifts his head to catch Peter's lips in a kiss, soft and lingering, and makes his decision]
I mean, we can give it a shot, right? No reason we can't just bail if it ain't workin' out.
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You can fight these instincts; you can learn to cope with them, but they don't always go away fully. If he knew what Rocket was thinking about or worried about, he would understand. He might not have been in as many prisons as the other man, but the Kyln wasn't his first one either. He had to deal with people overstepping boundaries and walking all over his personal space in the past plenty of times all his life. Hell, if he hadn't been for Groot and Rocket's intervention, his stay at the Kyln would have escalated into something deeply unpleasant. He was lucky.
But they don't talk about the things they don't talk about, and Peter doesn't know where Rocket's mind has gone for a moment; he's just happy when he feels him relax under his caresses. He doles out caresses and heavier touches, squeezing where it will feel good and lightly teasing when that might earn him another shudder or a groan from his lover.
The moment Rocket lifts his head, Peter gives him the kind of smile that only promises good things to come. He's a bit surprised about how soft the following kiss is but makes an approving little noise and nuzzles Rocket a little once it's over. ]
Yeah. Lots of other things we can do if that ends up not being our thing. I could give you a long list. A few involve my thighs. One or two might be illegal on a few planets.
[ That last part is a joke. Possibly. Who can tell for sure when Peter looks that at smug? One of those muscular thighs lifts some more, pressing up against Rocket's cock, and then he shifts on the bed to roll on his back properly and drag Rocket closer and on top of him. He had liked that before, and it seemed like the position might help Rocket feel less trapped. His hand fists Rocket's hair, and this time it's him to give a tug to get him to offer more of the column of his neck, so Peter can pepper it with kisses. He starts by sucking a mark on his own, then alternates between sucking, kissing, and nipping at it. ]
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Whatever might have happened in some other world, here and now — with Peter's arms around him, a lazy heat still burning between them — he's glad it didn't go down like that. Fuck, he's glad that all the shit they've been through, somehow it still ended with them here. There's no point wishing things were different. All you can do is make the most of what you've still got left]
I like illegal [His grin is mischievous] Illegal sounds fun.
[He definitely likes Peter's thighs as well, especially when they're rubbing up against him like that, the pressure so fucking good but so tantalisingly not enough. He goes easily with the motion as Peter rolls them. A full-body shiver runs through him at the feel of Peter's hands sinking into his hair, and he leans encouragingly into the touch, readily baring his throat to that hot, eager mouth. Another rough, muttered curse falls from his lips for the sting of that mark being put on his skin, drawing him deeper into the kind of hazy heat that makes thinking too hard real difficult.
He braces his forearm against the mattress to keep his balance, and slides his free hand over Peter's skin, following the planes of muscle and the familiar lines of old scars. His hips are still rocking lazily, shamelessly rutting into the warm press of their bodies; at this angle his cock is trapped in between their stomachs, and he has the distant thought that he could probably get off just like this, grinding greedily against Peter as the hot mouth working against his throat sends fresh waves of lust shuddering through him.
But fuck, for all his misgivings, he's still him and that means curious to a fault. He wants to know what more ends up looking like. He pulls away just enough to meet Peter's gaze, a spark in his eyes not a million miles away from the look he gets in the moment it becomes clear that a job's about to tip over into a firefight]
C'mon then. How we gonna do this?
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It will be fun. Peter licks his lips and drags the fingers of his free hand down Rocket's spine until he's cupping the man's ass and giving a squeeze. His hips jerk up to find a rhythm against Rocket's, already a bit demanding and needy. It would be embarrassing how fast they can work each other up if it didn't feel so fucking good.
He hums against Rocekt's neck, biting a little harder when he lets out a curse and then liking the mark he's left as if to apologize for the sting. He's already shivering in delight when he feels hands slidding over his skin, and the guy's cock isn’t even in him yet. Which is not only a damn shame but something that might change in a little bit. He's glad that Rocket's curiosity has won over his worries, and that look he's giving him makes Peter feel all sorts of desired. He can feel Rocket already half-hard against his stomach, warmth bleeding through their bodies, and pressure just enough to feel good but still leaving them wanting more.
The moment Rocket asks the questions Peter's eyes blaze with want. He is nothing if not enthusiastic in everything he does, and this is not the exception. Sex is especially not the exception, in fact. ]
We're going to need to grab something first before you can fuck me into the mattress until we can't see straight. It's on my nightstand, second drawer, a small bottle. It's been a long while since I used it, but I'm pretty sure that lube doesn't expire.
[ Actually, he has no idea if that's true, but he's sure as hell not going to waste time checking. Peter trusts Rocket with his life; trusting him with his body is not difficult at all. Right now all he wants is to bring up the steps to him in a way that won't freak him up, with some luck, it will turn Rocket on further. That's what Peter's aiming for. His hands find the man's stomach and chest once again, fingers running up hungrily as he speaks. There's a glint in Peter's green eyes and a smirk playing on his lips.]
You need to put your fingers in me and open me up nice and good until I am relaxed enough. Or I can do it myself while you watch. What sounds best to you?
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But no-one could ever accuse Peter of approaching things with anything less than complete enthusiasm, and he's fully aware of the force of the puppy eyes are are going to get turned on him if he teases for too long. He straightens up, fingertips trailing down Peter's chest with the movement, and balances himself with a hand braced on Peter's thigh as he leans over to fish around in the drawer as instructed. After a few moments he pulls out a likely-looking bottle and tosses it over for Peter to catch] This one?
[His stomach flips over at the offered choice, both options sparking some incapacitatingly hot mental images. He licks his lips slowly, looking down at Peter with hungry eyes, and makes his choice]
I wanna watch.
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The one and only. [ He grabs the bottle without looking, his reflexes doing the hard work as he keeps his eyes trained on Rocket's body with shameless want. He is not at all surprised that Rocket goes for the second option.
Gotta do everything by myself around here. Peter quips, but given how it is followed by him dragging Rocket close for another hot, open-mouthed kiss, it's safe to assume he's just playing. He touches Rocket's face, fingers trailing down his cheeks and then lower. Palm flat against Rocket's chest, Peter gives him a nudge. ]
Lie back down again so I have room to work,handsome. [ He shifts on the bed, looking at Rocket expectantly, but not rushing him more than that. The moment Rocket's lies down, Peter is going to turn around and swing one of his legs over both of Rocket's. He ends up sitting on the man's lap with his back to him, thighs bracketing Rocket's own, back slightly curving, and ass turned up.
Knees now digging on the mattress, Peter keeps most of his weight on them and only a hand braced on Rocket's thigh for balance as he looks over his shoulder at the other man. ]
All good? [ The only disadvantage of this position is that he can't see Rocket's properly, but it's also not his face that Peter wants his lover to look at. You win some, you lose some. ] You can touch me, you know.
[ Peter winks at him. He would feel a little better if Rocket did touch him; otherwise, it is so new for them to be doing this, and he worries it might get awkward. Not like he has any shame on what he's doing, but he likes the reminder that Rocket's there with him.
Uncapping the bottle with a flick of his thumb, Peter slicks up his fingers and then drops the bottle on the mattress, while his other hand reaches around his body to spread his ass cheeks. He reaches around his body to brush his fingers around the rim, without rushing because he needs to take things slow too, even if Peter can feel his skin warming up and a blush rise on his chest. Finally, with a softly muttered moan, he pushes one finger in and rocks against it, only going first knuckle deep and shuddering. ]
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He's reluctant to break that kiss, but for the promise of what's to come he lets himself be gently pushed away, rolling back into a comfortable sprawl on the mattress. His breath catches sharply as Peter moves to straddle him before escaping again in a rough curse, his gaze shamelessly appreciative as it moves over Peter's broad shoulders, the muscles of his back, the mouthwatering swell of his ass. He doesn't need any more encouragement to appreciate with his hands as well as his eyes; he props himself up on one elbow and slides a hand up Peter's thigh to settle at his hip and grip there, giving a wolfish grin as their eyes meet over Peter's shoulder and a shallow, teasing thrust up against him.
The sound of the cap popping open is loud in the hush of the room, and his mouth goes suddenly dry with anticipation. He licks his lips slowly, his hand squeezing lightly on Peter's hip, eyes fixed on the movement of his hand like he couldn't look away if his life depended on it. A punch of blind lust hits him like tidal wave, erasing any capacity for rational thought. In what feels like the space of a heartbeat he goes from half-mast to hard enough to cut fucking glass]
Fuck, Peter... [It's barely more than a ragged breath, fervent as a prayer. He shifts his weight to sit up more fully, his hand sliding up Peter's flank as he leans in to press a kiss between his shoulderblades] Fuck, that's hot.
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He's not unaffected either by the way the other man looks at him, or by how Rocket's skilled fingers often leave him hungry for more and practically panting with need. Peter gasps and arches up as a warm hand slides up his leg and settles on the curve of his hip, the deceptive simple touch sending sparks over his body. He's left speechless at the sight of that grin, and the nudge leaves him dreaming about harder thrusts and nails digging into his skin, gripping him more tightly to keep him in place. He thinks of hands yanking at his hair as Rocket pounds into him and has to suppress another shiver.
His body jerks with a muffled groan at the caress, and then there's the press of warm lips on his back that makes Peter's brain short-circuit. It's hot and sweet, and it prompts him to let out a low and long moan while he presses two fingers in and starts working on a rhythm. His eyes fluttered and eh titled his head back again to give Rocket a coy smile.]
I wish it were you already. [ He's not going to be able to make coherent sentences for much longer, and Rocket can't judge him. He's being distracting, so close and still too far away. ] R- Rocket.
[ Peter whimpers before he cuts himself off, biting his bottom lip and scissoring his fingers inside of him. He's being hasty, the drag of the fingers causing the kind of friction and pressure that's still not fully on the side of pleasant, but he's never been a patient man. It's only a little bit uncomfortable, and he knows it will get better if he relaxes. He's trying to force himself to do so, taking long breaths in between little whimpers. ]
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Yeah? [A smile curls on his lips, and he bites at the meat of Peter's shoulder before tracing over the mark with his tongue. He slides his hand across Peter's chest and down his stomach, still scattering bites and kisses over his shoulders, and toys with the trail of hair leading further downward. The brush of his fingertips is light, teasing, as they follow that path, stopping just short of brushing the base of his cock] Say the word and I'm all yours.
[Slowly and deliberately he wraps a hand around Peter's cock, stroking with a torturously slow pace. His hips are still rocking up thoughtlessly into the warmth of Peter's body, grinding against his inner thigh. He rests his forehead against Peter's back and gives a low groan, overwhelmed with want and need] I want you so fucking bad.
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Ohh, fuck! [ His hips buck so hard at the bite that Peter nearly loses his balance, fingers pressing deeper inside himself at the sudden movement and giving him yet another reason to cry out.
He only has a second to brace himself before Rocket goes on with the touches and nips, deliberately making sure Peter loses his goddamn mind in the process. He arches into the contact instinctively, seeking more of the peasant sting of those sharp teeth and the soothing wet warmth of the tongue that follows.
Rocket's fingers wrap around his hard cock, and Peter full-body shudders through another moan. Peter almost wants to snap back that Rocket isn't helping, and that he needs the few neurons available to focus on easing himself enough for Rocket to actually be able to fuck him. All that comes out when he opens his mouth is a small sound of fucking surprise when Rocket admits he's just as affected. It's all too much and not enough all at once. ]
Kriff, yes, give me just a few minutes. [ Peter murmurs in a rush, sounds like he had the wind knocked out of him, his voice rough. He hesitates a second before he presses a third finger in beside the others and twists them in deeper, the movement is now smoother and more pleasant, but not perfect because it still isn't Rocket. He can't think beyond, fuck and gods, please to care all that much about waiting for much longer.
His free hand reaches back behind himself, and threads his fingers into Rocket's hair, nails scraping mind-meltingly across his scalp. ]
Come on, big boy. [ Peter retreats his other fingers and makes a noise that sounds wrecked even to himself, thighs shaking. He feels so empty all of a sudden. He arches back, pressing his ass against Rocket's groin in a slow roll. His green eyes are blown, and his mouth is red and swollen where he's been biting at it. ] I need you, Rocket. Fuck, come on.
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He is, at his heart, kind of a dickhead, so obviously he can't resist the urge to continue teasing and distracting as best he can while Peter's trying to concentrate. It's something that could easily become addictive: drawing out curses and moans with every pass of his hand and scrape of his teeth, feeling Peter shudder under his touch, and knowing that he's driving the other man absolutely insane.
He moans softly as Peter's fingers slide through his hair and tilts his head encouragingly into the touch, a sound that's almost a whine falling from his lips for the light scrape of blunt nails over his scalp.
Lost in how fucking good it all feels, it takes him a moment to catch up with what's happening. And then realization hits him with a punch of lust so intense it feels a little like taking a bullet. He swallows thickly, heart pounding in his chest as he moves to line up. Both of his hands slide round to grip Peter's hips firmly]
I got you [It's a low, rough murmur, breathed like a promise against one of the countless small scars littering Peter's upper back. He shifts his hips, his breath catching with a convulsive shudder that rolls right through him as the head up his dick nudges up against the slick cleft of Peter's ass. His grip tightens, encouraging Peter to sink down, and then—] Oh, fuck—
[—and then he's slipping inside, inch by maddening fucking inch, and fuck he can't breathe. The world is narrowed to nothing but the way Peter feels around him, hot and slick and dizzyingly tight. He closes his eyes and presses his forehead against Peter's shoulder, panting] Holy shit.
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He knows that Rocket is a quick study and that a hands-on approach to things, especially when it comes to fucking, makes the lessons stick. Peter regrets a little just how fast Rocket learned how to metaphorically slam his hand down on all the buttons inside of his head that make him all hot and bothered, hitting every single one. But it's a small regret. Feeling this good is worth the occasional whine and pathetic sound that escapes his lips every time a particularly well-aimed bite happens. His back and neck must be already covered in red marks and hickeys; he sort of loves it.
It's a relief to know he's not the only one affected. Rocket's hard cock pressings against him and the way the guy moans when he grabs at his hair are proof enough. That whine Rocket let on might be one of Peter's favorite sounds from now on. He wished she could turn around properly and kiss the daylight out of him, but that will have to wait. He also wants to grab Rocket and pull him close, finally feel the heat of him pressed inside, but lets the other man guide things at his own pace.
Rocket's reassurance eases something in his chest too, making Peter's burning urgency relent. He feels anchored by the hand gripping his hips. Safe. And fuck, oh fuck, if it isn't rewarding when Rocket lines himself up and pushes into him.
His knees shift on the bed to spread his legs wider and make it easier for Rocket to slide all the way in, and he's so slow and careful that Peter thinks he might die before Rocket bottoms out. He appreciates the other man not simply slamming into him because the burn and stretch of his cock are already making Peter lightheaded. Moving any faster might have ended things too quickly for both of them before the real fun started. He allows himself to smile in between panted breaths when he feels Rocket's forehead pressed to his back. ]
Y...aah, yeah. Holy shit. [ Peter couldn't agree more, giving one slow roll of his hips back against the firm body behind him. One of his hands settles on top of Rocket's, whose nails are now leaving crescent moon-shaped marks on his hipbone, and gives it a reassuring squeeze. They take a few seconds to just breathe and get used to the sensations, while they both breathe deeply and try not to come all at once. ]
You feel incredible already. You can, ah, gods ... [ He shudders, squeezing his muscles around Rocket before he can find his voice again. Rocket's hips are pressed against his ass, and Peter makes a content noise in the back of his throat that is completely involuntary. His thumb rubs small circles over the pulse in Rocket's wrist. ] You can fuck me once you're ready. You won't hurt me, don't worry. You can't hurt me.
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Even this far gone he still wants to protest that you can't hurt me, some incredulous voice deep in his skull whispering you can't possibly think that's true. He knows Peter knows the kind of damage he's capable of doing even unarmed. He can't wrap his head around how fucking much Peter trusts him. Peter's in a vulnerable position right now; it would be so, so easy to hurt him.Â
But fuck, he doesn't want to. He wants desperately to deserve the kind of trust he's been given.
The sound that's torn from his throat as as he gives the first shallow, exploratory roll of his hips is a broken, ragged thing. He doesn't have much leverage in his current position, but even unable to do much more than grind up into Peter, the motion is more than enough to have sparks going off behind his eyes. He relaxes his grip just enough to wrap his arms around Peter's waist, nuzzling into the nape of his neck with a low, heartfelt groan]
C'mon [His voice is low and rough, thick with desire, as he rocks his hips encouragingly] You gonna make me do all the work here?
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A few messy curls dangle in front of his forehead when he looks over his shoulder, and Peter manages to catch his breath long enough to say: ]
Oh, you want me to show you how it's done? [ He's smiling, looking smug at the implications of what Rocket might just have gotten himself into. ] Very well.
[ He wants to make this good, needs to make this as good for Rocket as the other man's made him feel already, and luckily sex is as natural to Peter as building things is to Rocket. He suspected once or twice that it might have something to do with his celestial heritage, but that's not in his mind right now.
He lifts his hips and ground down on Rocket, slow going at first, arching backward to take him deeper, adjusting to the stretch from his thick cock. He rocks back and forth, working on a rhythm, and eventually moving faster. Peter's dick is throbbing, pre-come sliding down the shaft, but he's now keeping his hands on Rocket's legs for balance as he rides him. He's not speaking anymore, but he's also not quiet, letting out little whimpers, small gasps, and breathless moans. A groan bursts from his mouth, and he bows his head forward, clenching down around the cock inside him when the angle makes it brush against his sweet-spot. ]
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It feels incredible, too much and not enough all at once, and fuck he can't take not having the leverage to move any more. With one last parting bite to Peter's shoulder he lets himself fall back onto the mattress. His hands find Peter's hips again, gripping hard over the tender spots of those nascent bruises; he shifts to plant his feet and brace his shoulders against the mattress and finally, finally get enough purchase to actually thrust. His hips snap up, hard, and he gasps out a choked-off profanity at how fucking good it feels. It's animal instinct to repeat the motion, chasing that spike of pleasure, and he quickly finds a rhythm with the way Peter's riding him. He can feel the strain in his muscles, a rapidly building burn from the position, but it's more than fucking worth it.
The air is full of the obscenely slick sounds of flesh on flesh, underscored by rhythmic gasps and moans and the creaking of the mattress, and it only makes it hotter]
Oh, fuck, Peter— [It's a desperate, breathless moan, voice thick around the other man's name as though it's the filthiest swearword he knows and none of the others are up to the task] Fuck, c'mon, you feel so fucking good...
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He's so used to fighting, to nursing his injuries, to the lingering pain that's both physical and emotional that having a moment to just let go of all that and enjoy what feels good is like a gift. He no longer doubts whether Rocket is truly enjoying himself and feels comfortable with what they're doing. The way they would be at risk of breaking the bed if it weren't bolted to the metal floor is proof enough.
Even though the fingers holding his hips should have been an indication, he's entirely unprepared by Rocket's eagerness once he gets enough leverage. His hands grip him to pull him downward as Rocket moves his hips in a hard thrust upward that has Peter wailing and seeing stars, the sudden pressure making his eyes snap open. ]
Ahh, oh gods, don't stop, don't... [ He hopes his voice isn't really as wrecked as he sounds to his own ears, but Peter's not fully counting on it. His thighs tremble for a few moments; pleasure vibrates through him with every rough snap, building up to a quick crescendo, and Peter knows he's not going to last. Not when Rocket is like this, sounding like this, and especially not when the new angle makes it so his cock is pushing just right against Peter's prostate with every roll of his hips. ]
Rocket!, I'm...! [ The sentence breaks with a desperate cry, and Peter moans deep in his throat, throwing his head back and falling apart at the seams. His eyes screw shut with half-formed tears as he comes, body trembling and then going tense, his muscles clenching around Rocket still buried inside him. ]
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He keeps up the relentless pace, responding to those desperate pleas. The building burn in his muscles only puts a sharper edge on the pleasure, a satisfying ache like the one left behind after a hard-won fight. They're both close enough now that the rhythm is starting to falter, their movements going erratic with urgency. He tightens his grip and from somewhere finds the purchase to put a little more power behind his thrusts, the mindless litany of filth and praise falling from his lips turning increasingly incoherent]
You feel so fucking good, fuck— c'mon, c'mon gorgeous, I wanna feel you come for me—
[The noise he makes as Peter goes suddenly tight around him is sharp and desperate and as much surprised as anything else, the feeling overwhelming his senses, and he slams home once, twice before his hips are stuttering helplessly with a broken keening noise as he follows him over the edge.
He melts back into the mattress, panting; another thin, high sound catches on his lips as the aftershocks ripple through him. His thumb strokes slowly over Peter's hip, distractedly gentle, as he tries to remember how to fucking breathe] Fuck.
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