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Rinsing the last bits of shaving cream off of his face, Peter Quill mugged at the mirror. A quick toweling off, and he mugged again, turning and winking at his reflection.

"Ooh, baby, you're lookin' good." Quill said to himself, smoothing out the pomade in his hair. Though he only had his slacks on, Peter could barely contain his excitement. He'd only heard stories about Ravager weddings from his old shipmates, rare as they were. But if those stories were anything to go by, Peter figured, he was ready to get himself completely shitfaced.

"I can't have you getting yourself completely shitfaced," Came a muffled voice from the other room, poorly hiding his frustration. "If things go south..."

"Things will not be going south, it's a wedding." Quill rolled his eyes, double-checking his shave. "Plus, these are my people, Rocket. Anyone starts shit with us, I'm sure everyone and their mother'll be packin'."

"Ooh, don't worry Rocket, we're just gonna be locked in a cramped cargo ship with a buncha drunk and heavily armed lunatics." As Rocket mocked Quill, the human rolled his eyes harder and made several obscene hand motions into the mirror.

"You're one to talk. You almost done in there?" Quill slipped his undershirt on, a simple t-shirt with a shrugging cartoon octopus on it. Their emblems and jackets aside, the Ravagers didn't really care much for black-tie decorum. Peter had repeatedly tried to tell Rocket this, but something had crawled up the critter's butt as soon as he'd heard the word 'wedding'. Peter slid the bathroom door open to reveal his messy cabin, clothing and memorabilia strewn on the floor and bed, and...

Well, something he truly never expected to see.

"Ugh, I dunno. What do you think?" A twinge of uncertainty in Rocket's voice. A suit - an honest-to-goodness dark navy suit, fitted expertly to the raccoon's short stature. Under the jacket was a red button-down shirt, the top button left undone to let some wiry chest fur peek out. He was holding a tie in one paw, a little crumpled from several failed attempts. "Think I can skip the tie?"

"I...uh," Quill felt his face flush. He trusted his buddy on a lot of things, but he'd expected Rocket to look goofy, or just plain out of place. Filling out a suit the way he did, Peter didn't quite have a word for how Rocket looked. Words like 'stunning' and 'smooth' came close, but couldn't quite make it to the human's tongue.

"Aww, baby boo, am I makin' you feel underdressed?" Rocket smirked, tossing the tie over his shoulder.

Cocky. That was the word Peter was missing.

Walking over to Rocket, Quill held out his arms as if to adjust Rocket's lapels, only to loop the tie over the raccoon's other shoulder and pull him in close. Even in his fancy dress shoes, Rocket's muzzle came up to just above Quill's beltline.

"Makin' you feel something, hm?" The smirk in his voice hadn't faded. Reaching one dull-clawed paw up to the stiffening bulge in Peter's slacks, Rocket angled his muzzle up, meeting the human's gaze. "I don't want you makin' a mess all over my 5,000 Unit suit, humie."

"Don't gotta worry about that, buddy." Scooping the raccoon up by his armpits, Quill tossed Rocket onto his bunk, closing the distance fast. Hunched over the prone raccoon, Peter took a moment to admire his friend, looking at once vulnerable and smug. Running his thumb over Rocket's thigh, tracing up the inner seam, Peter grinned right back into his friend's fuzzy mug - Rocket was hard. His cock pulsed with the raccoon's naturally quick heartbeat, eagerly growing stuff under Peter's gentle pressure. "Kinda wanna see the look on your face when you make a mess of these trousers, though."

A gentle push of his thumb, tracing up the raccoon's shaft, and Rocket's breath caught in his throat. It was just a little gasp, but Peter had come to know and delight in every one of his little noises. He was so sensitive, even the slightest touch could override the raccoon's brattiest instincts. Quill tried not to take advantage of this outside of the bedroom. Most of the time, anyway.

"Yeah, you'd like that, wouldn't you-" Rocket tried to sit up, reaching for Quill's wrist, only to be shoved back down against the mattress, his chest held firmly by Peter's other hand. The human's palm rose and fell with Rocket's panting. The raccoon's tail twitched back and forth against the sheets, his face flushed with excitement as Peter effortlessly reasserted his dominance. It didn't take much strength to pin him to the bed, and seeing his friend's muzzle go slack in submission made Quill's arousal burn hotter than ever.

Steadying himself against the bunk, Peter leaned forward as he gently stroked and teased at the stiffness in Rocket's pants, planting a few soft kisses on the head of his cock. He would linger, feeling fabric and need and warmth on his lips, waiting for a whine or a soft buck of the hips before retreating. Feeling Rocket begin to squirm under his grip, Quill pushed a couple of fingers beneath his buddy's waistband, tracing down a path of thin belly fur until he brushed against the hilt of Rocket's cock.

"There's my boy," Quill smiled as the raccoon moaned, scrunching the sheets up in his clenching paws. Pushing the rest of his hand into Rocket's pants, Quill leaned close to his panting friend's muzzle as he gave a gentle squeeze. "Gettin' so hard for me. Remember when you thought this equipment didn't work?"

"What can I say," Rocket's words grew breathier by the second as Peter moved to cup his balls, idly playing with the small tuft of fur on his sac. "Shoulda tried big smelly idiots a long time ago."

"Hey, I thought you liked how I smelled." Peter traced back up to the tip of Rocket's cock, smearing a little dab of precum into his crotch fur. Rocket didn't answer. With those deep, shaky breaths he took as Quill kissed his neck, he didn't have to.

Seizing a moment of vulnerability, Peter took Rocket's shaft between his fingers. The raccoon cried out, loud enough to be heard across the Milano, as Quill stroked and worked him with a sudden ferocity. Rocket struggled to keep his voice down, but between the sensation of his cock being expertly milked and the excitement of being pinned down by a big, hulking human, self-control was a fleeting thing. Every breath of Quill's manly scent pushed Rocket's inhibitions deeper and deeper, until most of what remained was that singular ache, begging for more, needing release and all too eager to submit.

"Is my boy gettin' close?" Peter chided, brushing his nose against Rocket's. The raccoon's grunts and whines raised in pitch as he panted short, staccato breaths into Quill's smug face. "I love how girly you sound when you're gonna cum."

"Fuh, f-fuck y-" The end of Rocket's sentence turned to a long, feral moan, building with the intense pleasure pulsing through his sensitive, aching cock. Peter wasn't letting up, and the words Rocket was failing to form through his overwhelming haze of need were written loud and clear on the raccoon's face. It's gonna be a big one. There's going to be a lot, and with the way he bucked his hips so eagerly into Peter's hand, Rocket barely had the wherewithal to care about his fancy slacks now.

Giving Rocket's nose a soft lick, Peter watched as he worked his buddy beyond the point of no return, feeling the first spurt of cum shoot past his fingertips and spatter onto his arm. Rocket's underwear, already damp and hot with sweat, grew slicker by the moment as jets of hot cum spilled over Peter's fingers, soaking into soft bellyfur and threatening to spill over his waistband. Peter cooed as his buddy's face contorted, then fell slack and hazy as his spurts slowed, dropping his grunting and gasping cries to low, blissful groans.

They stayed, for a moment, looking into each other's eyes and exchanging exhilarated sighs. The moment passed, and Peter reached for a few tissues with his free hand, carefully dabbing the excess mess under the raccoon's waistband. The two sighed in relief when Quill pulled back, licking a few spare droplets of cum from his fingers - aside from a little wrinkling, nothing visible on the slacks at all.

Pulling himself to his feet, legs still slightly shaking, Rocket touched a paw to the bulge in Peter's jeans. Breathless, he managed to croak out one word while staring at the smug, teasing jerk of a human who set his world on fire: "Gimme."

"I think we're gonna be late enough as it is." Peter pulled away, leaving a grumpy-faced raccoon on the edge of his bed. "Plus, I should probably get myself showered, seein' as I'm a big smelly idiot and all."

"Don't even think about it, Pete." Rocket straightened his undershirt, staring daggers at Quill. "You owe me one. And I'm gonna get what's mine before the night's out."

The hunger in Rocket's eyes said more than enough.

"Yes, sir." Quill smiled, turning away from the bathroom. Tonight was just looking better and better.