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Rocketing Around the Galaxy

Part 8

For GlynWolf

By Draconicon

They were most of the way to Nidavellir when something blew in the engines. Rocket cut the forward thrust as soon as the klaxon echoed through the ship in warning, and if the raccoon had been a split second slower, the whole thing might have blown. Instead, the engine itself only caught fire.

A tense few minutes later, the ship was still space-worthy, but they had lost all direction. They floated freely in the vacuum of space, and both the mammals grimaced to themselves as they realized how close that had been...and how this would set them behind by another couple of hours.

"Ugh...figures. Always one thing or another," Rocket muttered.

"Always?"

"Heh, almost."

"..."

"Hey, least that gives me a chance to have one last round of fun."

"Seriously? That's what you're thinking right now?" Glyn asked, blinking. "That's what you want?"

"Hey, the engine'll be fine. Groot knows how to fix it. Right Groot?"

"I am Groot," the walking tree said.

"Yeah. See? He knows what he's doing."

Glyn had many reasons to doubt it, not least being the fact that he had never seen the tree do any such thing with the engine. Groot had been the one to man the guns or keep the ship flying when he and Rocket were down in the turrets, but this was something different. Before he could open his mouth, though, the raccoon already had him by the wrist and was leading him off to another part of the ship.

...Well, could be worse, he thought, looking back at the closed bulkhead. Mostly fire damage, and nothing's melted. Just have to take it apart and clean it before putting it back together again.

And he wouldn't lie and say that he wasn't interested in another round with the raccoon. It had been quite the experience rutting and being rutted by the famous bounty hunter during the length of their partnership, and considering that it was going to be ending soon, he doubted that he'd get another opportunity after that.

Pity, too. Rocket was hot.

They reached one of the quarters that doubled as a bedroom, and Rocket, little Rocket, hopped onto the mat attached to the wall. The raccoon grinned, crossing his arms and smirking as he extended one leg.

"Let's start with putting you where you belong again, huh?" the raccoon said, wiggling his toes. "I think you've been running things a bit too much lately."

"It's worked, hasn't it?" the timber wolf asked, slowly getting to his knees.

"Yeah, but I don't know if I like that. See, I'm the one that comes up with the plans. I'm the one that makes it happen. Someone else...heh, makes me think that there's a hammer coming, and not for you."

There was, though Glyn hoped that the raccoon hadn't figured out just how that was going to happen just yet. Ventman should be following behind them, and not that far back, either. Provided that they all arrived at Nidavellir relatively close to each other - and that was more likely with this breakdown - then the betrayal should be relatively painless, all things considered.

He reached out for Rocket's heel, supporting it as he leaned in. A few short puffs of air across that black-padded paw reminded him of the soft scent that he had enjoyed other times that he'd been on his knees, and he groaned under his breath, puffing out another breath that little bit harder than before.

"Mmmph..."

"Yeah, you like it. Go on. Get a taste, kid."

"Mmmph..."

He did as he was told, blushing slightly as he went back to being on the bottom. A few sessions of bossing Rocket around did not put him on the top, it seemed, and he groaned as he dragged his tongue along the bottom of that soft foot. The taste was...well, to be expected after the fire-fighting. Sweaty, warm, just a trifle metallic from running around an overheated room. Mostly sweaty, though, sweaty and a bit musky, salt and bitter and something else all coming together and making him shiver from head to toe.

Rocket pulled at his jumpsuit as Glyn got into the licking, slowly dragging his tongue from the heel all the way up to the toes. He cleared shiny lines along the bottom of the raccoon's foot, making it shimmer in the low lights of the ship. Every lick brought more of that flavor to his mouth, reminding him of what he was, and where he was. A wolf, a timber wolf, licking the feet of a lowly raccoon.

A lowly raccoon that had beaten his ass twice, to be fair, and would probably do it again if he had the chance. But at the same time...well, there was no hiding his cock going up, considering he was naked again. No clothes on the ship, after all.

He felt every throb going through his dick as he dragged his tongue over those soft pads, clearing them of all the little messes that stained them. Soon, all he tasted was the milder, subtle flavor of flesh, and he groaned as he started to drag his tongue between the raccoon's toes, clearing them out, smoothing the fur, and most of all, drawing moans from his partner. Master. Whatever Rocket's position was with him at the moment.

And when he looked up, he could see that Rocket was enjoying the treatment, too, considering that the raccoon was jerking his cock. He must have pulled it out somewhere between the toe-licking and the sole-licking, because it was hard as hell, and he was pulling on it good and fast. Up, down, up, down, the raccoon's other hand working his balls, teasing them and rolling them around.

I'm going to be tending to those in a minute, I just bet...

The way that Rocket looked at him, he imagined that he'd be tending to most of the raccoon before long. He forced himself to focus on the feet for now, working his way to the toes and sucking them into his mouth, teasing them with his tongue. The raccoon moaned more, stroking himself faster.

Glyn forced himself to keep his hands at his sides, making sure that he didn't indulge in the same way. For now, this was better. Serve the smaller male, keep his head mostly clear, just have a bit of subbiness in the brain. Better than jerking off and making it all the harder to think because he was getting horny.

Lick, lick, lick, and then the other foot was pushed against his face. He took it by the ankle, holding it up, supporting it for the raccoon, while the other -

"Mmmph..."

"Heh, don't say I never gave you nothing."

Rocket's smirk was just that much more insufferable as those long, dexterous toes wrapped around the head of Glyn's cock. Every little tease and curl that they made sent shivers down his spine, and he groaned under his breath as he felt them stroking him, pulling at him, jerking him off.

Fuck...fuck...

His hips twitched against his will, almost driving him forward to thrust against that sole. Forward, back, forward, back, each time making him moan and whimper under his breath. Fuck, fuck, fuck.

And the other foot. His mouth opened ever so slightly, and Rocket jammed those long toes over his tongue, thrusting them down his muzzle the way that some other male might have thrust his fingers down the wolf's mouth. He moaned around them, unable to help himself as his cock oozed under the other toes, as his lips sealed around the ones that were fucking his face.

"Yeah, that's what I thought. Missed my paws, you little slut?" Rocket asked.

"Mmmph..."

"I knew it."

"Mmmph...mmmph..."

"Doesn't matter how many times we do this. You're always gonna be the bitch. A bitch that needs a collar."

That sent a shiver down his spine, and not necessarily a bad one. He didn't mind that sort of rough play, but this...this was something new, something that Rocket hadn't really gone for before. He looked up past the toes in his face, staring the raccoon in the eye.

"Heh, that got your attention, huh?"

It did. Collars were...rather key, for some canines. And they meant more than a little bit. The raccoon let go of his cock, leaning back as he worked his feet with expert ease.

"Yeah, I was thinking about it. Maybe, if this goes as well as I hope, I'll see if we can make a collar for you at Nidavellir. Keep you around...make sure that you ain't gonna do anything stupid."

A collar. A collar made of Nidavellir's materials would be almost impossible to break, and more than likely would come with a great deal of extra features, things that he would never entirely figure out. Things that would give Rocket even more power over him.

Fuck...fuck...

That sounded surprisingly hot, and it was almost enough to make him cum right then and there. He barely managed to get control of himself, and he had to use most of his fantasies of what he'd get with Ventman, all those promises that he had made, to actually curb his fantasies and temptations.

He slowly pulled his head back, popping his lips from the raccoon's toes. He panted under his breath for a moment, then forced a smile.

"Heh...you're thinking of collaring me?"

"Heh, why not? You seem to like it."

"I think you'd have some fun with it, too."

"Yeah?" Rocket smirked. "Who's on the bottom right now? Who's about to blow?"

"Who's the small guy that likes it when others take care of him?"

Rocket's eyes narrowed, but his dick twitched. Glyn grinned, reaching up and placing his fingers in a ring around the base of Rocket's cock.

"Wouldn't need nearly as much to make a cock-ring collar for you," he teased. "And then I can take care of you that way...after all, you did say that I'm the one coming up with all the plans right now..."

He was surprised to see Rocket shiver at the touch, and even more surprised to feel a little pre-cum running down the raccoon's cock. He had hoped for something, a little twitch, perhaps, but not something that showed that much interest.

Maybe I'm not the only switch on the spaceship.

Before he could follow it up, Rocket kicked him in the chest. Glyn fell backwards, only to grunt as the raccoon jumped down, landing on him and glaring at him.

"You better knock that idea right outta your head. I don't wear collars for anyone. Never have, never will."

"Says the raccoon that got caught as a pet by that rich woman," he teased.

"You shut your mouth."

"Just saying, you didn't seem to mind it then."

"I - you shut up!"

"You're jerking me off with your feet right now."

Rocket blinked, whipping his head around to look over his shoulders. Glyn was as surprised as Rocket, quite honestly; he had felt those soft, plush feet pressing against either side of his cock as soon as Rocket had landed on him, the raccoon jerking him without even thinking about it, but it was a great feeling...

And a better distraction. He rolled sideways, pinning Rocket under him, and that new position had his cock between the raccoon's soles, almost right up against his barely-covered ass. He chuckled.

"And you let me get you into this position."

"...Kid, I don't know what to think about you," Rocket said, shaking his head.

"Why's that?"

"Ya keep changing things up. Most people are dicks, but you just think with yours."

"...Well, sometimes," Glyn admitted.

"Heh, just enough to keep you interesting...and keep you paw-brained."

Soft strokes, teasing toe curls, and a gentle tug along his sac sent a shiver down his spine. He leaned forward, arching his hips into the stroke -

Only for the raccoon to kick off his thighs and jam a throbbing cock right down his throat. Glyn sputtered as his partner grabbed hold of his face, thrusting away, pumping that pulsing shaft down his muzzle and into his throat. More than once, he outright gagged, but Rocket had a good grip and wasn't letting go. Thrust, thrust, thrust went the raccoon, soft-furred balls bouncing off Glyn's chin.

"Mmmph!"

"Didn't expect that, did ya, bitch? This is what you need a collar. Can't trust ya not to mess with me!"

Rocket kept thrusting away, and Glyn shivered at both the rough treatment that his throat was getting as well as the heavy musk settling in his nose. Neither of them had had the chance to get clean since their time in the apartment, and sneaking around, running through a station, and then blowing it up had been a rather sweaty endeavor. He was getting a snootful of raccoon sweat and musk, and...

Well, it wasn't bad.

Despite himself, he reached for his cock, idly stroking himself to the hard pumping thrusts that Rocket treated him to. The size difference between them meant that Rocket couldn't quite reach his throat, but that also meant that he always tasted that cock, feeling it throbbing, dribbling, pulsing away. He moaned under his breath, unable to hide it, and shivered as he felt Rocket's balls slowly pulling up.

Not going to last much longer...

He felt some twisted sense of pride as he realized that the raccoon was that close already, and wondered if there was something about the constant switching things up that got to Rocket as much as it got to him. One way or another, it was fucking hot.

In, out, in, out -

And then finally, Rocket pulled out. The raccoon gripped the base of his own cock, squeezing it, and groaned as he came. Glyn closed one eye, protecting it from the spray of thick seed splattering on one side of his face. The timber wolf was almost amused by the sheer amount hitting him, but didn't say a thing as Rocket slid back, panting harder.

"Mmmph...mmph..."

"You good?" Glyn asked.

"Ha...fuck...I needed that."

"Considering how much you painted my face, no kidding."

"Hey. It's a good look for ya. Maybe you should keep it."

"Tempting, but no."

"Heh, well, good luck washing it off."

The smell, for sure. He imagined that he'd be wearing that musk-mark for a while, if not all the way to Nidavellir.

Shaking his head, he got to his feet. His cock throbbed hard, and he could tell that Rocket was at least a little tempted by it. The sheer control that the raccoon seemed to need, however, didn't involve allowing him to cum. Rocket nodded out the door, and Glyn followed the unspoken instruction. He was to keep from blowing his load until later.

Gonna have to deal with that sometime, he thought. Gonna be all kinds of horny later if I don't take care of that.

Sadly, it was probably going to have to wait. Rocket was a vindictive little shit sometimes, and he doubted that the raccoon would let him get away with blowing his load without permission. He shook his head, making his way down the ship corridors. He ignored the locked door that led to the storage room they were keeping the Meat Man in, and continued to his chamber.

Groot, as far as he knew, would have the engine up and running again soon enough. Then they'd continue to Nidavellir, and from there...well, he'd figure it out from there. The betrayal that Rocket was expecting to some degree was going to happen, though hopefully without the pain and bloodshed that those things often came with. If he played his cards right...

But first...

Well, a little insurance never hurt...

Glyn got up again, making his way to the cockpit where the different weapon pieces were. There was something that he could do to tilt the odds in his favor, at least a little bit. And considering how much power and leverage Rocket had over him, he'd need everything that he could get.

They made good time jetting through space. A few more warps and portal hops eventually brought them to the legendary forge, and when they popped out into real space once more, it was just as breathtaking as they had expected.

"Holy crap..."

Rocket's whispered words were enough for all of them, though silence seemed more appropriate. A star could barely be seen in the distance, covered over by a Dyson Sphere, while all around it in a massive ring was the forge itself. Here and there, lights danced, but legend said that the place had been abandoned long ago. The forge had gone dark as the dwarves left, heading to different and better pastures. They'd left their machines behind, believing that there was nothing that could use them properly, but...

Well, Glyn had faith that they could work out how to make it work. After all, they weren't forging something from scratch, after all. They were putting something back together, and that shouldn't be nearly as difficult.

Rocket slowly turned in his chair, and the timber wolf did the same to look down at the raccoon. They both held a stare for a moment -

"I am Groot."

Beep beep beep. The consoles in front of each chair went wild, the scanners picking up movement - behind them? Glyn blinked. That was far too much to be Ventman, or at least, just Ventman.

"We've got a transponder inside the ship?!" Rocket shouted. "What the f-"

He didn't get the chance to finish his curse before holes opened up in the space behind them. The scanners fed them information, tons of it, almost too much of it.

First came Ventman, coming through in the large ship that had punched a hole out of the merc base in the black hole cluster. His weapons were already firing, missiles filling the air as starfighters came through the hole behind him.

Then came other ships, smaller, but bigger than fighters, about twice the size of Rocket's ship. They were clunkier, clumsier, more like converted freighter craft that had been outfitted with weapons, and -

Fuck, they were dotted with the same symbol that the Meat Man had on all his shipments. They'd probably come to protect their investment.

Finally, a third set of holes opened up, and out poured the remnants of the merc fleet that they'd fled from all that time back. Sharp-nosed fighter-craft poured through, as well as two larger ships. Not big enough to be as powerful as Ventman's craft, but big enough to be a threat to it together.

Rocket looked at him.

He looked at Rocket.

They both jammed their control-sticks forward, kicking the engines into full gear. Whatever had happened, they weren't going to figure it out by joining the fight. They needed to get some distance, now, before someone managed to lock onto them.

So much for just ending this before it got started...

They managed to reach the docking bays of Nidavellir just ahead of the screening fighters that were on their tails, though not before one of their engines were clipped in the process. Rocket's ship jumped, jerked, then slammed into the metal floor of the docking bay, throwing up sparks all the way down. They slammed into the far wall as a force-field came up behind them, sealing in the atmosphere and sealing out the weapons of the enemies.

Groaning from the bruising landing, Glyn pulled himself free of his seat. Rocket was already loose, and had leaped up and over, grabbing the timber wolf by the shoulder.

"How...the hell...did anyone follow us?" Rocket grunted through gritted teeth.

"Search...search me..."

"I plan to. If I find so much as a butt plug with a transponder in you -"

"Maybe later, when we're not gonna get shot?"

"Someone led them here."

"And that someone might be our unwilling passenger, ever think of that?"

As a matter of fact, he had only just thought of that himself. They hadn't done a very good job of searching the Meat Man for anything besides the goods that they wanted from him. The weapon piece had been the only important thing, and the fact that he had some of his people here meant that they'd obviously followed something to get him back.

It was enough to get Rocket to let go of his neck, at least, which was better than he'd been hoping for.

Rubbing his neck, he dragged himself out of the chair as Rocket ran down the corridor, muttering something about the Meat Man and backstabbers and more. Glyn just shook his head, reaching for the weapon pieces. Groot stopped him, holding a bark-covered hand over them.

"I am Groot."

"You know I don't know what that means."

"I am Groot. I. Am Groot."

He still had no idea what that was supposed to mean, but the gesture down the hall and the lack of any permission to take the pieces made it clear that he wasn't going to be trusted with the weapon chunks. Shaking his head, he left the cockpit, heading to his quarters to grab what gear he was trusted with.

The soft echo of a blaster shot told him that Rocket had ended the whole Meat Man issue right then and there. Probably not going to keep them from being hunted, but the hostage advantage was obviously not going to work if the enemy was willing to shoot at them with the Meat Man onboard. Better not to drag him along and slow them down.

As Glyn equipped himself with the stun club that he was allowed, as well as a smaller blaster that he'd managed to grab on the station, Rocket went zooming by, heading back to the cockpit. The timber wolf ignored it, trying to keep focused on the situation at hand.

We've got mercs, Ventman, and random employees all gunning for us now...

He had one ally in the bunch. He doubted that Rocket had any, but Rocket didn't need that. He had Groot, which meant that there were already odds stacked against any single player opposing the raccoon.

I need to get the pieces...

If he could just get the gun put together, then he had little doubt that the odds would swing back to his favor. Nidavellir weaponry could turn the tide of almost any fight, and he had little doubt that a super-gun like this could take at least a few ships out of the sky.

It was a pity that the forge itself had gone more or less dark. The defenses outside might have been rather useful, but -

"Hey, kid! We've got boarders further down the ring. We gotta move!"

"Moving!"

The timber wolf met up with Rocket again at the boarding ramp, Groot following just behind. They jumped off the ship and ran across what remained of the wrecked hangar. Rocket slapped a hand against the console that controlled the door, opening up a ring of steel and -

"Oh, god..."

Glyn stared, hardly able to believe his eyes. The hangar had been enclosed, keeping a wall of steel from floor to wall to ceiling, cutting off any view of space save for the force-field that was just behind them. This...this was as open-plan as open-plan got.

Sprawled out before them was a massive floor of some kind of metal - not steel, it was too dark for that, and speckled with something through the metal that made it look like stars on stone - abruptly ending in a ring of the same material that flared with starlight in intervals as the Dyson Sphere turned around the ring of the station. Other floors, fragmented and segmented, broke up the upper levels of Nidavellir, exposing forges, machinery, and half-finished projects, any of which could have made someone for life if they were able to get away from the place with it intact.

Dwarves lived here? Glyn thought, staring at the different forges, any of which would have dwarfed him and made Rocket look positively puny in comparison. How...how could any...

It didn't matter. They had to find an assembler. As the open end of the station left them exposed to space, making the whole place feel...feel empty and open, Glyn knew that their enemies would be coming for them, and -

Pew, pew.

Two loud blasts of energy splattered at the floor and wall beside them. Glyn leaped forward, taking cover behind one of the forge tables, while Groot and Rocket fired back. The screams of falling soldiers filled the air, but more blasts and shouts followed. They'd been found.

"Kid, which way?!" Rocket shouted.

"Uh...uh..."

"WHICH WAY?!"

"This way!"

He pointed at one of the flights of stairs going to an upper level. If nothing else, he'd have the chance to see more of the place, get a better picture of where they needed to be. Better than sticking around down here and getting his head blown off.

Rocket and Groot led a fighting retreat, forcing their enemies to keep their heads down. From the utter inaccuracy of the returned fire, he doubted that they were the mercs; this had to be the Meat Man's people come to get his shit.

Things are gonna get a lot harder before they get easier, Glyn thought as he darted for the stairs, Rocket and Groot following behind him. Goddammit...Ventman, I hope that you're having an easier time out there than I am in here.

They reached the second, then the third floor of Nidavellir before they heard movement up above. It was more professional, more organized by squads rather than random surges of movement like they'd been dealing with from below. Glyn didn't like their situation, but for the moment, at least nobody was shooting at them.

That's because they're barricading us in, instead, he thought, the rather pessimistic part of his brain making it very clear that they weren't out of the woods yet. Meat Man's people are blocking off the hangar, keeping us penned in so we can't fight our way back down the stairs and back to the ship. Mercs upstairs, securing it piece by piece and probably locking down the stairs so we can't get behind them, and Ventman nowhere to be seen.

All he could hope for was that Ventman was keeping the space escape avenues blocked off, using that cruiser to keep space superiority. With this many soldiers on the station, that had to mean that Ventman had the numerical and arms advantage out there. It just meant that he couldn't land and put any of his people on the ground.

Worst comes to worst...

Glyn thought about asking Ventman to blow up the station, to utterly obliterate part of Nidavellir to open it up to space. The idea was tactically sound, so long as it happened further away from him, but...

But he couldn't do it. The very idea of losing that much value, that much potential power in cash and resources, was obscene. No way that he could order the destruction of that much treasure.

And more to the point, not that likely that Ventman would listen, either. Mercs weren't much better than thieves, that way.

"Ugh...that should...keep 'em out for now," Rocket muttered, stepping back from the stairway as Groot left behind a massive wall of wood roots as a barrier. "Not for long, though. They'll be back with cutters."

"Maybe we'll get lucky. If the mercs see the other guys, maybe they'll kill each other," Glyn said.

"You don't believe that for a second."

"...No, not really."

"Any luck with figuring out where we need to go?"

"Um..."

He'd been hoping that they would have time to actually explore the forge, to be completely honest. Everyone heard the tales of Nidavellir, but nobody actually knew how it worked. Stuff went in, weapons came out. The actual process of how they were made was a long-lost art.

But it was still a forge, right? That meant that things were made of raw materials, and then slowly put together. It wasn't rocket science, or even ancient star science. It was just finding the right tools to shove it all together.

Unfortunately, the various work stations didn't look anything like the labs and manufacturing plants that he was used to working in and stealing from. There were none of the automated arms to assemble things, none of the nanite emitters that filled molds, nothing that he was familiar with. If he had to take a guess, that thing with a hole in the front was a smelter, to break down various metals into something that could be shaped, but as for the rest...

The timber wolf turned in place, looking at the various oversized work-stations. There had to be something that was worth trying. Something that -

And then, he saw it.

It looked almost like a furnace, in some ways, except that it had open doors to it, input hatches that led down to an output hatch at the far end. It seemed almost too easy...save for the fact that it was a few hundred meters away, across open ground, and they'd pass two stairwells in the process of getting there.

He slowly pointed to it, and Rocket and Groot turned to look. They both winced as soon as they saw it.

"That one?" Rocket asked.

"Uh-huh."

"The one that's basically asking us to put on signs that say 'shoot me'?"

"Yep."

"...Son of a crap..."

Glyn agreed, but they didn't have time to argue. They had to -

Pew!

They jumped, but the wooden barricade held. This time. Rocket and Groot shared a look, and the latter nodded, taking position at the end of the stairway. Rocket grabbed Glyn by the arm and pulled him along. It seemed that it was going to be the two of them finishing this.

Glyn couldn't believe his luck. In fact, he deliberately chose not to believe it. Things were going to go south again before they reached the machine; he was sure of it.

The End

Summary: Rocket and Glyn have a bit of fun while getting to Nidavellir, and then everything goes tits up.

Tags: M/M, Foot Fetish, Paw Play, Raccoon, Rocket Raccoon, Series, Size Difference, Face-Fucking, Face Fucking, Foot Worship, Reversal, Another Reversal, PICK A POSITION, Timber Wolf, Erection, Orgasm, Cum, Oral,