Characters: Yondu Udonta, Kraglin Obfonteri, Original Female Character(s),
Relationships: Yondu Udonta/Kraglin Obfonteri
Tags: kinktober, kinktober 2018, 616!Yondu, weird alien biology, pouches, poor Kraglin, Yondu grows a set of tits, and the very thought breaks Kraglin's dick, lactation kink, male lactation, pretty sure I wrote this after a few too many beers, humour, top!Kraglin, pushybottom!Yondu, shower sex, I can't believe I wrote this,
Warnings: None.
Summary: Kraglin really should've asked first.
October 26th - Prompt Twenty-Six: Lactation
A/N: Fun fact, this is an outtake from Tiny Terran. Originally when I started the idea I had a very different view of how Yondu and Kraglin's relationship was going to be – there's actually a moment in one of the earlier chapters where Peter asks about the pouch and what it was, which I intended to lead into this kind of weird alien biology mess, where Kraglin predictably gets himself into trouble. Anyway, as Tiny Terran evolved into what it is now, I decided I wanted to take their relationship in a different direction, so I scrapped the chapter but I still had it sitting on my drive waiting for me to find some use for it. So, after a bit of an edit, here it is!
The concept of Hrax and Hraxian!Kraglin comes from the incredible Write_Like_An_American, who's stories I utterly adore 3 (and you should totally go read, like, all of them because they are amazing) So, as usual mad shout out and big love to them for creating it because none of my stories would exist without their ideas :)
Part Twenty-Six of Kinktober 2018.
#kinktober
"GET OUT!"
The deafening roar of the captain made Hattie jump a foot in the air and almost drop her collection of ingredients she'd pilfered from the kitchen with the intent to make a sandwich in her room.
Even more shocking was the sight of Obfonteri being turfed out into the hall buck-ass nekkid. The door slammed shut behind him and the poor man stood on the outside of it blinking stupidly.
Hattie cautiously approached him, "Kraglin, honey? Are you ok?"
The man's head shot up, cheeks staining purple as he covered his dangly bits. "I have no idea." He replied blankly.
She gently slung an arm around his shoulders and pulled him away from the door, "Com'on sweetie, let's go get you some clothes."
After leading the stunned man to her room, Hattie had found him some clothes and made them both sandwiches. She slid one across to him with a hot cup of coffee and sat on the opposite chair. She leaned back in it, bundling her neon blue dreads onto the top of her head with a scrap of merlot cloth she kept in her pocket and sighed. "So – wanna tell me what that was all about?"
Kraglin sighed, "I pro'ly should'a asked first."
Hattie's mind brought all sorts of twisted images up and she balked. "Oh Gawd, what'id you do?"
"Dunno I should be talkin' 'bout it." He replied morosely, taking a sip of the coffee.
"I'm not going to say anythin' to Yondu. Last time I even so much as suggested we change something work related, he cut four inches off my dreads with his arrow. I'm hardly going to mention something private, am I? You think I want a live yakka arrow in my ass cheek?" She shook her head adamantly, "No'sir."
The Hraxian sighed, "I thought it'd be hot. Sexy, ya know?" He poked at the sandwich. "I only stuck my fingertips in. It was warm – an' fuzzy, like a fur blanket."
Hattie stared at him wide eyed and swallowed heavily. She couldn't quite believe she was about to ask him this but – "Kraglin. Where did you stick your hand?"
"In his pouch." The Hraxian said gloomily.
The woman let out a breath she didn't realise she was holding, "Lordy! For a sec there I thought I was about to learn something nasty."
Kraglin snorted, lips twitching up at the sides.
"Hey – look, you fucked up – you didn't know that was off limits." She shrugged, "He'll come 'round eventually. You know what he's like." Hattie sighed and scratched at a pointed ear, "Just – especially with a man like Yondu – ask before you do something new next time."
"It'll all work out, right?" The Hraxian asked hopefully.
Hattie leaned a long arm over the table and pat his shoulder, "Sure it will, honey."
The next morning Kraglin about dropped his coffee when he walked onto the bridge.
Something strange was going on.
Something very strange.
Yondu sat in his usual spot, flicking through jobs and reports, feet hung over the side of the arm, boots dangling loosely off his feet.
All that was normal.
The thing that wasn't was – he was wearing – a shirt.
In all the years Kraglin had known the captain, he'd never seen the man put on a shirt.
Ever.
As he opened his mouth to ask, he was shot a demonic, glowing scowl that made his mouth shut right the fuck back up and get on with his day.
The strange shirt wearing faze continued through the week and onto the next.
Yondu hadn't spoken to him beyond barking orders at him since 'The Incident'.
Kraglin was pretty sure he'd screwed his way out of a good root.
It was a Tuesday when Kraglin strode onto the bridge as normal and Hattie immediately pulled him aside. She held a datapad up in front of him and pointed to it. The thing was blank, which confused Kraglin, until she muttered in his ear, "Datapad's just to look like we're workin'. Thought I'd give you a heads up. The captain's got tits – don't say anything."
"WHAT THA FUCK?!"
Hattie sighed and shot him an irritated look, "What did I just say?"
"What're you's two barkin' at over there?" Yondu snapped.
"Nothing!" The pair replied in unison.
"Whatever you do – don't stare." Hattie said quietly, "He went an' put a hole through Geoff's shoulder for that not even an hour ago." She glanced over her shoulder briefly, "His mood is –" her face morphed into a grimace, "bleak. So, uh –" Hattie pat his shoulder awkwardly, "good luck."
Wednesday rolled around and they were bigger.
Yondu's mood was – livid.
Kraglin had already spent the entire of Tuesday at half-mast and was wholly convinced he was going to blow a load in the middle of the bridge if this kept up.
He stole another glance at the captain in his chair, same position as always – equal parts bored and menacing and – Oh God, he just bent forwards to scratch his ankle. The angle squished his newly acquired assets against his thick thigh.
Kraglin lost the blood from his brain so fast he thought he might fall down.
It shot back up there so fast he got a pain in his temple when Yondu caught him staring.
More specifically staring at –
Them.
The Centaurian let out a deep rumbling snarl and Kraglin thought; This is it. This is how I die.
Instead the front of his leathers was grabbed, and he was dragged unceremoniously off the main deck, with rather undignified squawk.
Yondu threw him through the door of his cabin – poor Kraglin's arms and legs flailing to keep his balance – and then punched him in the dick.
The Hraxian dropped into the fetal position and tried not to throw up.
"This is all yer fuckin' fault!" Yondu snarled pointing a finger in his face.
Kraglin swallowed heavily and managed to wheeze out, "'M sorry. I should'a asked."
"Damn fuckin' right ya should'a!" Yondu shucked out of his jacket irritably and threw in behind him. "Then I would'a told ya!" He threw off the shirt too. "I would'a told ya. Pouches. Ain't. Fer playin' wit'!"
Kraglin pulled himself up onto his knees, grabbing the wall for support as he stood gingerly. It was then he noticed the entire top half of the captain's body was bound with white gauze. His tongue stuck to the roof of his mouth. The Centaurian had been trying to bind them. He'd been trying to make them look smaller.
Kraglin's poor abused dick – that valiant motherfucker – twitched.
"Lemme give ya crash course in Centaurian biology!" Yondu ranted as he pulled the gauze away from his body. "So, shut up an' pay attention! What's tha pouch fer?"
"Carryin' pups." Kraglin replied.
"An' whadda pups eat when their lil'n's?"
"Milk?"
"So, if ma body thinks I got pups what's it gon' do?" He snarled balling up the gauze.
"Make – milk."
"Exactly!" He growled through gritted teeth, pegging the ball at Kraglin's head. It missed by a few feet but Kraglin felt the intent.
Yondu stood, face livid, arms spread wide, with a decent set of cans adoring his chest.
All the pieces clicked in Kraglin's brain and his dick achieved rock hard so fast it actually hurt. He stumbled back against the wall of the cabin with a lustful groan, "God, Cap'n, ya don' broke ma dick."
"Ya think I give a fuck about yer dick right now?! Yer dick's what got me inta this mess!"
"Ma dick's gon' be what gits ya outta it too."
Kraglin cursed internally at the fact his mouth would always run off before his brain had a chance to tell it to shut up.
Yondu exploded. "What tha FUCK are ya talkin' 'bout?! That is tha dumbest –" the Centaurian stopped mid-rant, raising a brow thoughtfully, "– smart thing I ever heard you say."
"Huh?" The Hraxian replied eloquently.
"Yeah." Yondu said, scratching his beard. "If ya fuck me hard enough, it'll jolt tha cycle outta sync." He looked down at his chest, "Which'll git ridda these – 'course I gotta empty 'em first."
"I got'chu covered Cap'n." Kraglin stated, perhaps a little too eagerly.
"Oh yeah? How ya gon' do that?"
Kraglin paused for a second, bit his lip, then said seriously, "I'mma play wit' yer titties."
A black look crossed Yondu's face and Kraglin thought perhaps it would be wise to shut the fuck up now.
Instead he waited for Yondu to either throw him out or tell him to get his ass to the bed.
Yondu shrugged making his chest bounce rather enticingly and turned towards the bed.
He walked his way easily out of his boots – the Hraxian was sure he'd just walk back over them tomorrow and they'd be straight back on his feet, how the man kept the fuckers on all day without losing one was some magical power only Yondu seemed to possess. He'd clearly been able to only find one sock that morning. Kraglin watched utterly astonished, as Yondu put his bare toes on the end of the sock, continued walking, and the thing came straight off. The Hraxian decided he would need to seriously re-evaluate everything he knew about anything, because he obviously wasn't doing life right.
Leather pants were flung somewhere in the direction of the desk and Yondu glanced over his shoulder, "Ya figure out how'ta toss ma salad wit' yer mind, did ya?"
"Uh – no?" Kraglin replied.
"Then yer wearin' too many clothes an' yer too far away."
Kraglin agreed with those two observations, but what he was actually thinking about was that those new assets Yondu had acquired thanks to his own inability to keep his hands to himself were going to make an awful mess all over the place – one that Yondu undoubtedly bitch at him about until he cleaned it up.
The Hraxian shook his head and walked away.
Yondu threw him a venomous look. In a tone, deadly as a knife's edge, "Obfonteri. Where tha fuck ya think yer goin'?"
Kraglin, at this point, had reached the bathroom door and opened it with a grin, "Got a better idea."
The Centaurian raised a brow silently.
"Com'on Cap'n ya love it when I fuck ya up tha tiles."
The older man thought about all that hot water and how good it would feel on his aching back – he was through the door in a second, slapping the water on full and watching the steam rise gently.
Yondu ducked under the spray and groaned, hanging his neck down and enjoying the way the tension seeped out of his muscles.
Kraglin, now devoid of his clothes, plastered himself to Yondu's back. His hand came around to rest across the shorter man's belly, he hooked his chin over a blue shoulder and closed his eyes.
Yondu found himself leaning back into the Hraxian, the position was intimate and – for lack of any other suitable word – romantic. Yondu stomped out the adverse feeling of fondness for the Hraxian like it was a particularly nasty bug and sneered at him over his shoulder. "Ya better start crackin' tiles under ma back or yer gon' find yerself remarkably uncomfortable."
The Hraxian flipped him around, slamming his back against the tiles and crowding into him, "Yes'sir." He purred in that tone, Yondu secretly found utterly intoxicating.
Gripping the shorter man's thighs, he hoisted him up the wall roughly. The Centaurian locked his ankles into the divot in Kraglin's spine and dug his fingers roughly into pale, inked shoulders and growled, "'At's more like it."
The only answer he received was a cockeyed smile. One of Kraglin's hands came off the wall hovering over Yondu's collarbone. The man rolled his eyes impatiently and grabbed the back of it, shoving it down onto his chest and squeezing. The sense of relief he felt from taking even the smallest amount of pressure out of it was overwhelming and he bit back the keen that shoved its way into his throat.
Yondu opened his eyes to tell Kraglin to get fuckin' but the words never quite made it out. The Hraxian was lustfully watching his hand on the Centaurian's chest, his eyes following the stream of golden liquid that would burst forth only to be washed away by the water. His mohawk was plastered to his head, water washing away the dirt and grime that seemed to follow him around, revealing just how pale he really was. If anything, the almost translucent skin made his eyes brighter, water droplets clung to thick, dark eyelashes.
Yondu had always found those eyes to be strangely alluring. The man never said all that much, but his eyes always told Yondu the full story. It'd be safe to admit he liked them – just to himself of course.
The eyes he was considering found his and Yondu raised a brow, "Think ya c'n manage fuckin' an' pawin' at me?"
The hand left his chest, gripped his ass and Kraglin rolled his hips. Yondu gasped as felt the taller man slide in and – shit, he must've been way more pent up than he thought for it to go that smoothly. Immediately the hands were back to groping at his chest, both of them this time, sending Yondu into a heightened state arousal that punched sounds out of him that were borderline desperate.
"Ya want me ta keep milkin' yer pretty lil' titties, yer gon' hafta tug yerself off, Cap." Kraglin purred into his ear before latching onto the side of his neck with razor teeth.
Yondu wanted to knock some respect into him, he really did, but the man was pounding his prostate like a damn demon, grabbing his chest just right, and those teeth were sunk into the meat of his neck in the best possible way. He shuddered as he received little kitten licks from that sinful mouth latched there.
For once in his asshole life, Yondu did exactly what he was told, grabbing himself and chasing that incredible high he could feel rush up towards him. His other hand shot out to grip the Hraxian's hair, tugging just enough to really feel those wicked teeth. Kraglin growled out a warning on instinct, making Yondu swallow a lusty moan with a click.
He was almost there, he could feel it, "Com'on, com'on!" He urged through gritted teeth, next second he was shooting high into Kraglin's chest hair with a broken gratified sound before going completely boneless, leaving Kraglin to get his end away while trying to hold up two hundred and eighteen pounds of blissed out Centaurian.
He managed well enough, losing it a few moments later, snarling and spitting and satisfied. Kraglin pulled his teeth out a moment later, reveling in the full-bodied shudder he received.
"Did it work?" The Hraxian asked quietly, after letting Yondu shakily find his feet.
"Fer tha sake o' yer goolie bits, ya wanna hope so." Yondu replied with a chuckle. "So," he said, ducking his head under the spray of water and cracking his neck so it echoed around the bathroom and made the taller man wince, "have we learned not ta touch things wit'out askin'?"
Kraglin stuck a pit under the spray – may as well have a proper wash while he was here, "This is tha part where I say; 'Yes'sir', ain't it?"
"Somement ya wanna add ta that?" Yondu replied, mild toxicity seeping into the tone.
The Hraxian opened his mouth to say something about burying his face in Yondu's plush chest before he didn't get another chance and then immediately thought better of it. He'd already almost cocked this up once, best not to get himself sent to the doc with an arrow rammed up his substantial nose.
"What me ta wash yer back?" He said instead.
Yondu's lips twitched up at the side, "Only if ya lemme wash yer hair."
Kraglin shrugged, he never understood why Yondu liked his hair so damn much. He hated washing it because it got all fluffy, but he figured he'd caused the captain enough grief this week. "Sure, sir."
Quite calmly and easily, a week later, everything was back to normal.
Yondu no longer had busty assets and Kraglin, had in fact, not screwed himself out of a good root.
It was a perfectly ordinary Thursday when Yondu strolled onto the bridge in his usual fashion, shirtless and as much shiny shit around his neck as he could without giving himself a headache.
The only difference was, now, Yondu sported a set of shiny surgical staples along his pouch.
He threw himself into his usual chair and smirked up at Kraglin, "In case ya decide ta git handsy again."
Kraglin chuckled quietly and handed him the job sheet, "Wouldn't dream o' it, sir."