Here we go, Chapter 3 xx
Chapter Three
"I'm a bastard, I'm not a fucking bastard, Kraglin."
With expert ease, Yondu dipped his head between Peter's legs and was now exploring Peter's ass with his tongue Peter gasped with shock at the unfamiliar feeling. The tip of Yondu's tongue was cold, like ice but the rest of it. Rough and hot, too hot
It was a trusted combination of probing fingers, and that sweet touch, which made Peter think he was being ripped apart. He couldn't help the motion of his own body, as he moved, moved like he was enjoying it.
He couldn't tell Yondu to stop or perhaps he couldn't. He knew it was wrong, but that strange feeling was too good, and that scared him. His mind so fucked up he could feel like he was spilling over the edge
He could feel Yondu hot breath on his most sensitive part, and all he could go was just moan, and gasp at the unfamiliar touch, while Yondu was just eating out his ass as if he had done it a thousand times before.
The combination of those fingers trending his ass, massaging his prostate followed by that tongue, licking him, sucking hm. Just probing and fucking him deeper
"Yes," Peter whispered more to himself, and immediately felt disgusted. He was enjoying it, Yondu was making him enjoy it, and he felt so good
Under his skin Peter was aware of something like fire coursing through him, like flames licking at his skin, feeling his entire body was consumed with fever. As this normal, was this normal?
He knew there was nothing ordinary about this, this was as fucked up as it could get. It was wrong, sick and twisted, but Peter could feel his body react further which seemed to give Yondu the initiative to keep going.
Peter couldn't help his thighs trembling, nor could he stop them widening, and deep down couldn't hide that what Yondu was doing to his was unfamiliar. But the asshole knew what he was doing, and all Peter could do was endure it.
He was feeling as if he was travelling high and then falling hard while all he could do was moan, and grip the sheets, his insides, his stomach all the way to his ass felt wet.
Peter was aware that the pain he first felt was no longer there, his body had become desensitised to all of this, his mind adjusting to the pain so now it was meaningless.
Yondu's hands had dipped under his body, and he was pushing Peter's hips up. Peter could feel the rough blue fingers digging into his ass, aggressively, as if he was trying to claim more from him. But Peter wasn't sure he had more to give.
All he knew, was that he was hot, too hot and exhausted. Wanting it to be over, which was conflicting with the feeling of wanting more.
Peter could make out the sound of something wet, slapping onto flesh and peered down. He could see it, but he could hear it, and understood completely as Yondu was bent over and slicking his dick with lube. So this was going to actually happen, it was just waiting. But Yondu had lube…when did Yondu get the lube from? He hadn't moved, and he was fucking naked? Where did that come from?
It was a stupid thought, but one Peter couldn't shake off, feeling like the world around him was moving. He took a breath, and almost felt like the walls were shuddering, as Yondu pushed his lube filled fingers into Peter's ass.
Oh God, it was cold like Yondu tongue, but so wet, the fingers making squelching sounds, combined with Yondu's aggressive breath, and Peters moans.
His ass, feeling detached from his body was beginning to widen as if it was begging for more when Yondu massaged his prostrate.
"For fuck sake. It's not working."
His fingers, moving correctly as if there were a spell being cast over his body, prodding him, probing him. And it felt so good and wrong and right, and all Peter could do was move in unison to the touch, hating it. Telling himself, he hated it. He did hate it…didn't he?
Peter was confused, desperately confused and didn't know what his mind wanted. What he wanted. All he could do was moan and gasp and the wet, probing fingers which were stretching him further.
Within his body, he could feel the heat rising still as if his blood was boiling within. Was this normal, was this normal during sex, fuck it. This wasn't sex, this was rape. Yondu was going to rape him!
The fucker had lied to him, he had promised years' ago, that when Peter was ready, he would have sex with someone he wanted too. Not this, nothing like this.
Internally Peter felt betrayed, but with Yondu continuing his assault on his body. Causing him to moan and gasp, and try to ignore that it felt so good and wrong, but so right.
What the fuck was happening to him?
Peter could only gasp, his chest moving aggressively when it felt like it was being restrained. As if some hand had plunged into his chest and was squeezing his heart, it felt cold, like ice was being pushed into his chest.
He tried to scream, he could feel his lips parting, but no sound was coming out. Where was his voice, where had that gone?
All it was, was that ice cold pain in his chest, was he dying? He was dying, he had to be dying as the world around him blurred suddenly when a blue fist thundered toward his chest.
Peter's body jumped from the bed, before crashing back down, as the hand came down once more. There was a moment Peter heard something crack, but it was drowned out by the yell above him.
Peter just tried to focus his eyes and looked up at Yondu. His Captain was looking down at him, mouthing words, which his brain couldn't process for a few second.
"Breathe, damn you. Just breath Peter. I'm not raising a fucking quitter; you have to breathe."
There was a moment, Peter caught a look in Yondu's eyes. Concern, concern in those blazing red eyes. But breathing, he was still breathing. His chest hurt. But he was still breathing. In response, Peter moved his chest, could feel it rising and falling. See he was breathing. He was breathing.
Suddenly the Yondu above him flickered, and disappeared to be replaced by the Yondu by the bed, the one who was priming his ass, but the pain in his chest lessened. See, he was breathing, he was.
Peter felt exhausted, like he had been stretched out, and could feel his eyelids begin to flicker, but any dreams of slipping away were dashed, as Yondu reached down and grabbed towards him lifting him free of the damp bed.
For a moment the air felt cold until Peter came into contact with Yondu blue dense scarred skin. And her couldn't help it, he couldn't help wrapping his tired, sore limbs around Yondu's body.
Skin to skin, feeling the tenseness of his captain flesh, While Yondu just held his back tightly, his fingers digging into his spine.
"I'm sorry, Quill,"
It sounded like Yondu but it wasn't Yondu. while the Captain made his way to his chair, and Peter just squeezed his eyes shut.
To be contunied xxx
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