[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.
[ It's all so much, and if the way Rocket's moving hadn't already pulled him over the edge, the 'gorgeous' comment would have done it. Peter lets out another groan followed by a small mewl when Rocket soon comes, and he can feel the man's cock twitching inside him, filling him with wet warmth.
Peter slumps forward to rest his hands on the mattress, in between Rocket's legs, so as not to put all his weight on him. He needs a few moments for his brain to reboot after the mind-blowing orgasm, his body still shaking with the aftershocks and panting heavily. The tension leaves his body, and he can feel the way every muscle goes slack, tiredness seeing over him like a warm blanket. He probably looks as fucked out as he feels.
He feels sore in all the best ways and not yet ready to speak; it seems like too much work at the moment. He has to move off Rocket reluctantly, and Peter does so slowly, legs a bit unstable as he foregoes Rocket's lap to rest against the man's side. At last he can finally take a good look at him again, and Peter's smiles at the way Rocket doesn't look all that much better than he does, blissed out as they both are.
His green eyes go soft, and Peter presses his face into a warm, bare shoulder, feeling the world settle just a bit. He can feel the new bruises and bites sting lightly with every movement he makes, but he feels pleased, doesn't regret the way he earned every one of them. He likes to have a reminder of this night that will last for a few days. One of his hands roams over Rocket's bicep, and he shifts a leg to press it next to his partner's. Not possessive or desperate like it was earlier when the two of them were going at it, but a softer feeling. Just to remind him that Peter is here for him, anchoring him down, and to remind himself that he can have this too. Something gentle after the roughness. ]
[There's an instinct in him, far too deeply ingrained not to try and come to the fore, to immediately make an effort to try and shake off this sleepy lassitude; to be ready for whatever comes next. He pushes it away. The moment still feels like something so fucking rare and fragile, and he's not about to ruin it by engaging his brain in any way. Normally he doesn't do well with having to be still, but right now, he can't imagine wanting to be anywhere other than exactly where he is.
He makes a vague noise of dissatisfaction at the movement, but is quickly mollified by the renewed closeness as Peter settles in against him, both of them melting into a lazily satisfied tangle of limbs. He turns his face to nuzzle into Peter's hair, fingertips tracing out abstract, meaningless patterns on his skin. He feels...empty, but not in a bad way. Calm. As though some constant itching clamor at the back of his skull has finally gone briefly, blessedly silent.
As he catches his breath, the wandering of his hands becomes more purposeful, lightly checking over the various bites and bruises he can reach in a manner not dissimilar from how he would when patching someone up after a fight; satisfying himself that no harm has been done. It's not hard to believe that all is well when he has Peter relaxed and comfortable against him, but some restless part of him needs to be sure]
[ Peter feels too relaxed and cozy next to Rocket to worry too much about anything else but is enjoying this moment no matter how long it lasts. He's not sure what to expect or if Rocket would like to leave rather than spend the night here, but he's trying not to over-analyze things. It's not his style. He's not going to push him away, quite the opposite, enjoying the way their bodies fit so well together and the peace of mind it brings. He closes his eyes and makes a soft sound, like a big, content cat, when Rocket nuzzles him and fingers run over his still somewhat sensitive skin. He shudders a little and then lets out a small giggling sound when Rocket's hands start to wander. ]
That tickles. [ He knows Rocket well enough, and he's been patched up by him often enough, that he could tell what his friend was doing. He's not going to call him out on it.
Instead, he reaches a hand around to grab the edge of the bed-sheet and half throw it over them before they start getting cold. Once done, his hand doesn't stay still but seeks out Rocket's, so he can entangle their fingers together. Peter brings it up to his lips to kiss the man's knuckles in a reassuring gesture, his eyes still closed, long eyelashes fanning over pink kissed cheeks. Maybe it's easier for Rocket if he doesn't have to look at him in the eye. ]
Stop thinking too much. It's time to sleep. [ His hold Is loose after that, and if Rocket wants to pull away, he can, and Peter won't judge him for it. ] Don't hog the blanket, and in the morning I might show you again what my mouth can do.
[ If Rocket decides to stay, that's it. This is Peter's roundabout way to tell him he's welcome to do so. ]
Edited (sorry, fixed a couple of things) 2024-11-24 15:08 (UTC)
[There is a part of him that does wonder for a fleeting moment if he should pull away, head back to his own bunk, but it's only a passing thought. It's hardly as though they've never spent a night with one of them using the other for a pillow, passed out drunk in a shitty motel room after a night of shore leave, or huddling for warmth when they've wildly underestimated the weather on some backwater planet. It's...easy, to be here like this. Comfortable. Almost familiar]
Not thinkin' don't come so naturally to all of us [There's no bite to it, given that he's absolutely melted in against Peter, soft and relaxed and floating on the hazy edge of sleep. He curls in closer, settling into a more comfortable sprawl, and — lulled by senses filled with the presence of someone he trusts completely — lets himself drift off]
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no subject
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.
no subject
Peter slumps forward to rest his hands on the mattress, in between Rocket's legs, so as not to put all his weight on him. He needs a few moments for his brain to reboot after the mind-blowing orgasm, his body still shaking with the aftershocks and panting heavily. The tension leaves his body, and he can feel the way every muscle goes slack, tiredness seeing over him like a warm blanket. He probably looks as fucked out as he feels.
He feels sore in all the best ways and not yet ready to speak; it seems like too much work at the moment. He has to move off Rocket reluctantly, and Peter does so slowly, legs a bit unstable as he foregoes Rocket's lap to rest against the man's side. At last he can finally take a good look at him again, and Peter's smiles at the way Rocket doesn't look all that much better than he does, blissed out as they both are.
His green eyes go soft, and Peter presses his face into a warm, bare shoulder, feeling the world settle just a bit. He can feel the new bruises and bites sting lightly with every movement he makes, but he feels pleased, doesn't regret the way he earned every one of them. He likes to have a reminder of this night that will last for a few days. One of his hands roams over Rocket's bicep, and he shifts a leg to press it next to his partner's. Not possessive or desperate like it was earlier when the two of them were going at it, but a softer feeling. Just to remind him that Peter is here for him, anchoring him down, and to remind himself that he can have this too. Something gentle after the roughness. ]
no subject
He makes a vague noise of dissatisfaction at the movement, but is quickly mollified by the renewed closeness as Peter settles in against him, both of them melting into a lazily satisfied tangle of limbs. He turns his face to nuzzle into Peter's hair, fingertips tracing out abstract, meaningless patterns on his skin. He feels...empty, but not in a bad way. Calm. As though some constant itching clamor at the back of his skull has finally gone briefly, blessedly silent.
As he catches his breath, the wandering of his hands becomes more purposeful, lightly checking over the various bites and bruises he can reach in a manner not dissimilar from how he would when patching someone up after a fight; satisfying himself that no harm has been done. It's not hard to believe that all is well when he has Peter relaxed and comfortable against him, but some restless part of him needs to be sure]
no subject
That tickles. [ He knows Rocket well enough, and he's been patched up by him often enough, that he could tell what his friend was doing. He's not going to call him out on it.
Instead, he reaches a hand around to grab the edge of the bed-sheet and half throw it over them before they start getting cold. Once done, his hand doesn't stay still but seeks out Rocket's, so he can entangle their fingers together. Peter brings it up to his lips to kiss the man's knuckles in a reassuring gesture, his eyes still closed, long eyelashes fanning over pink kissed cheeks. Maybe it's easier for Rocket if he doesn't have to look at him in the eye. ]
Stop thinking too much. It's time to sleep. [ His hold Is loose after that, and if Rocket wants to pull away, he can, and Peter won't judge him for it. ] Don't hog the blanket, and in the morning I might show you again what my mouth can do.
[ If Rocket decides to stay, that's it. This is Peter's roundabout way to tell him he's welcome to do so. ]
no subject
Not thinkin' don't come so naturally to all of us [There's no bite to it, given that he's absolutely melted in against Peter, soft and relaxed and floating on the hazy edge of sleep. He curls in closer, settling into a more comfortable sprawl, and — lulled by senses filled with the presence of someone he trusts completely — lets himself drift off]