He can imagine perfectly the way Rocket's lips upturn at the corners when he's smirking, the smug yet attractive, in a very son-of-a -bitch-handsome way, look that nowadays makes Peter melt. He misses him to the point of acting stupid.
In space, people with Rocket looks are not so common; there are too many alien races around to get confused: different and colorful skin tones, numbers of limbs, sets of eyes... But on earth, surrounded by so many other humans, Peter sometimes finds his gaze trailing after strangers that just happen to have the same shade of hair as Rocket, or a similar build, or a way of carrying themselves that makes him think of his friend. He gets disappointed and ashamed of himself every time.
He leans his head back, closes his eyes, and slides a hand down his stomach and between his legs to palm himself. The distance feels less real like this when he can hear Rocket's voice and knows exactly what he's doing and that he's safe.
"And I like making you work for it." That's only half a lie. Peter likes doing that, bringing a challenge, but accomplishing it is a whole different matter.
He's far too weak when it comes to Rocket paying him attention, mapping his skin with his lips, and marking him with bites and bruises that will last Peter a few days. He gives in and even begs Rocket easily. But it's Rocket; he wouldn't do it with just anyone else, so it's okay. Peter knows he's safe with him.
"Hmm...yes, good point." They are always racing against the clock, but that doesn't matter now. Peter will live off stolen moments with Rocket, as long as they still get time to be together, brief as it might be.
He sighs, his voice a bit rougher now, making it clear without words that just hearing Rocket talk is already affecting him. He recalls the warmth of his partner when Rocket touches him, the firmness of his muscles, and the weight of his body. Of that damned, sexy mouth of his.
Peter listens to him and moans at those mental images, wishing he really were there to take care of Rocket himself and to be touched in return.
"Fuck, you're so hot. " Then he laughs softly, a more mischievous tone to his next words. "I suppose I'll have to up my game the next time I have you all to myself. It won't do to leave you unsatisfied and have you thinking about someone else when I am not around." Not like they ever talked about exclusivity and all that, but Peter's feeling a bit possessive. "I should make sure to bite and make every inch of that gorgeous body of yours. Or leave scratches on your back the next time you fuck me senseless."
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He can imagine perfectly the way Rocket's lips upturn at the corners when he's smirking, the smug yet attractive, in a very son-of-a -bitch-handsome way, look that nowadays makes Peter melt. He misses him to the point of acting stupid.
In space, people with Rocket looks are not so common; there are too many alien races around to get confused: different and colorful skin tones, numbers of limbs, sets of eyes... But on earth, surrounded by so many other humans, Peter sometimes finds his gaze trailing after strangers that just happen to have the same shade of hair as Rocket, or a similar build, or a way of carrying themselves that makes him think of his friend. He gets disappointed and ashamed of himself every time.
He leans his head back, closes his eyes, and slides a hand down his stomach and between his legs to palm himself. The distance feels less real like this when he can hear Rocket's voice and knows exactly what he's doing and that he's safe.
"And I like making you work for it." That's only half a lie. Peter likes doing that, bringing a challenge, but accomplishing it is a whole different matter.
He's far too weak when it comes to Rocket paying him attention, mapping his skin with his lips, and marking him with bites and bruises that will last Peter a few days. He gives in and even begs Rocket easily. But it's Rocket; he wouldn't do it with just anyone else, so it's okay. Peter knows he's safe with him.
"Hmm...yes, good point." They are always racing against the clock, but that doesn't matter now. Peter will live off stolen moments with Rocket, as long as they still get time to be together, brief as it might be.
He sighs, his voice a bit rougher now, making it clear without words that just hearing Rocket talk is already affecting him. He recalls the warmth of his partner when Rocket touches him, the firmness of his muscles, and the weight of his body. Of that damned, sexy mouth of his.
Peter listens to him and moans at those mental images, wishing he really were there to take care of Rocket himself and to be touched in return.
"Fuck, you're so hot. " Then he laughs softly, a more mischievous tone to his next words. "I suppose I'll have to up my game the next time I have you all to myself. It won't do to leave you unsatisfied and have you thinking about someone else when I am not around." Not like they ever talked about exclusivity and all that, but Peter's feeling a bit possessive. "I should make sure to bite and make every inch of that gorgeous body of yours. Or leave scratches on your back the next time you fuck me senseless."