Chapter Text
There were a few things in life that were constants. Winter was extra cold, Playground sucked as a faction, and Rocket was hopelessly in love with his best friend, Sword. He was just… so pretty in everything that he did. His muscles, from the way he recounted adventures to Rocket, to even the nights they'd stay up, giggling and watching movies.
Oh, Rocket desired to confess to him. Pour out his heart to Sword, tell him all about how he loved him. How he stayed up late, staring at the stars and thinking about him. How he wore the hoodie he accidentally left at Rocket's whenever he felt lonely. But he couldn't. Sword was just way out of his league, and Rocket wasn't even sure if Sword would be into him.
He sighed. The other issue is that Sword was missing. It wasn't un usual for Sword to be off, on another adventure or gone for a few days, but.. the two weeks mark passed just two days ago. He'd been gone for 16 whole days, without any notice. And to Rocket, who was already almost always anxious, it really didn't help his thought spiral.
Rocket paced around his room. Since Sword disappeared, it had become.. a little bit of a mess. Unwashed piles of clothes, abandoned tinkering projects, even a whole container of motor oil… he wrinkled his nose. Gross.
So he gathered up his clothes into one big pile, and put it on his bed. He shoved it into a hamper, dragging it out of his bedroom, and down the hallway. Unfortunately, he didn't notice the two peering, glowing white eyes that stared at him through the window.
Rocket put his clothes in the washing machine, shoving as much in one load as possible, just because he didn't want to be there all day. He swiftly walked back to his bedroom, opening the door with a creak. He looked at his bed, sighing, thinking about how he was going to have to wash all of his blankets too, as they were covered in his sweat. Eugh.
A breeze ruffled his hair, and he stared at the open window. Huh, he didn't remember shutting that before. He walked over to the window, posture relaxed, and silently closed the window. After a second's hesitation, he locked it, as well. Never hurts to be safe rather than sorry.
He sighed again. He's been doing a lot of that. Sad sighs, lackluster performance in phights.. it got to the point where Medkit asked if he was okay. The two were friends, maybe not as close as either of them were to Sword, but it really confirmed it there that Sword was truly missing, and not just on a long adventure.
So, with a sad look in his eyes, he told Medkit that he was fine, just tired. And Medkit had pat him on the back and offered him a hot chocolate, which Rocket accepted as that wasn't.. really common from the healer.
Looking back on it, Medkit was likely just as down in the dumps as Rocket was about Sword's disappearance. He was pretty sure the two of them lived together, so it was most certainly difficult to be depressed and have your upbeat roommate disappear on you. Medkit, unlike Rocket, was just a lot better at hiding it. Probably because he always looked tired or sad.
Rocket stared at a poster on his wall, absorbing the details. It was to some movie he watched with Sword a long time ago, that he'd gotten a poster for, because they'd both been drunk. He chuckled, thinking back on it. SFOTH damn it, literally everything reminded him of Sword! He threw his hands up, a grin on his face. He really was smitten for this boy.
The smile fell off his face, though. Hopefully Sword would come back soon. The ding of the washing machine interrupted his thoughts–seemed like his first load of clothes was done. Wandering back into the laundry room, Rocket swore he heard some sort of creak further in his home. Zuka wasn't home, and it's not like they had pets, so it made Rocket a little nervous.
He waved a hand in the air. He was just being paranoid! It was just him, and after he did his laundry he'd settle on the couch and eat a big bowl of noodles and cry over a random TV show again. Just like most nights this last week. Ah, the perks of being unemployed.
The two machines whirred to life, and Rocket again walked out of the laundry room. He couldn't help but feel like something was up; everything felt too serene, coupled with the open window he was fairly certain was shut. He didn't go back into his room– even though his phone was in there, he felt too nervous to wander into the room. Instead, he walked to the living room, and climbed onto the couch.
Gripping the remote with a death grip, he turned on the TV. When he was much younger, he'd do this when he felt anxious. Having a distraction always saved him from his own mind. He flicked through the TV channels, skipping past cartoons and action movies before settling on some good old reality TV.
He tossed the remote onto the table, and sat up. He vaguely registered a noise somewhere, but he assumed it came from the TV. After all, they were renovating someone's house, it was a loud environment–nothing was wrong. At all.
Suddenly, fingers slipped into his mouth, effectively gagging him from any shout he could've made. He jolted from fear, but stilled as a hand came to squeeze at his neck threateningly. Whoever it was leaned down, down next to his ear. Feathers brushed against his head, and his heart only rose to his throat as a familiar voice spoke.
"Rocket," The voice was weird, echoey, distant in some way. But it certainly was Sword's. It was laced with elation, as if he was waiting years to finally say this. "I am so happy that you are finally in my clutches. It has been far too long, hasn't it?" He was giddy, almost with laughter in his tone. Rocket shuddered in some sort of fear as the low voice rolled down his neck. All he could do was whine. The hand hadn't let up on his neck.
"Do not make this difficult, my love."
Rocket could only wonder what he could have possibly meant by that, but a dull pain and he was spinning, spiraling into darkness.
The first thing that Rocket noticed was that about half of his clothes were gone. He was left in nothing except his tank top and boxers. At least his prosthetics were still on. The second thing that he noticed is that he was cradled, possessively, in the lap of a warm body. Strong arms circled his waist, and he looked at them, stunned by the fact that they were familiar–it had to be Sword, but the dulled colors and white runes running up and down the length of the muscled forearm were just…different.
He tried to speak, but a face nuzzled into his shoulder suddenly, and he could only squeak. A smile was pressed into his collarbone from behind, and dread settled in his stomach.
What the fuck was going on ?
"Oh, you are awake.." Only adoration was within Sword's voice. His hands traveled hotly beneath Rocket's shirt, an action that had him whimpering.
"What- what the fuck?"
"Shhh…" A finger came up to press against Rocket's lips softly, that low, sultry voice in his ear making him embarrassingly wet. He felt almost ashamed for it, but for some weird reason, this was all really hot to him.
Sword's hands traveled further up Rocket's shirt, the rocketeer's eyes stuck, entranced, as the hand simply skated up and down his chest. Not playing, not touching, just simply feeling. It would have warmed his heart if it were not for how weird this all was; he hadn't even ever told Sword he didn't like his chest played with.
It just never seemed like something to tell him. But here Rocket was. The hand retracted from his chest, sinking lower. Rocket felt Sword's other gloved hand come to rest on his jaw, gently tugging his head to the side to expose his neck. As Sword's other hand came to tease at the hem of Rocket's boxers, Sword spoke, that same eerie echo still present in his voice.
"You're back in my grasp.. all mine." Rocket shuddered, feeling Sword's weirdly sharp teeth graze against his skin. He tried really hard to not think about the fact that his throat could be ripped out.
"Wh… what?"
"You really think I hadn't been watching…?" Sword's nearly entranced, slowly spoke tone seemed to wrap Rocket up in its tendrils, pulling him into a strange state of mind.
Rocket felt his eyelids droop. "I have been watching you for a while, my love.. It is only now that I must make you mine, forever."
Forever? That seemed like a really long time. Teeth threatened to bite his neck, but they paused. It seems like Sword was considering something. Rocket felt the hand that had begun to slip under his boxers retract. He almost whined, but instead made a noise of confusion as he was adjusted, back hitting comfortable sheets.
He opened his eyes, not even remembering when they had slid closed. Who stared back at him was certainly Sword–the same hairstyle, tied back, the same scars and head wings that made up his best friend–but at the same time it wasn't him. Almost blank white, glowing eyes stared at him with more love than anything Rocket had ever seen before. Runes circled under his eyes, incomprehensible language shifting and turning.
He was beautiful. Jagged yet symmetrical spikes poked out from his formerly red horns, purple fading into blue and teal. Rocket simply didn't know what to say, but instead of being given a chance to try, Sword pulled him into a kiss, gloved hand coming to tilt his chin up.
Rocket was confused, but he kissed back anyway. In all respect, he should be happy! His hot best friend was back, was on top of him, pinning him down. Talking about how Rocket was his.. it made his head feel as if it was filled with cotton. Sword was kissing him, slipping his tongue into Rocket's mouth, melting every thought in his head into mush.
Something poked at the back of his mind. Almost as if someone else was there, telling him to give in. The idea was tempting, to submit to Sword, but he resisted, whining into the kiss. Sword pulled away, unreadable gaze piercing Rocket and swallowing him whole.
"I'll make you mine, forever. You'll understand it, soon." The growled words made Rocket keen, and he felt odd. It was as if Sword was the one prodding at his brain.
Sharp teeth pierced his neck, and Rocket cried out, hands coming to circle around Sword's back. Hands landed on his waist, and he was pulled to suddenly grind against Sword's crotch. It only made his noises increase in volume; the mark Sword left dribbling blood on himself.
Another bite sunk into his flesh, followed by a third; a fourth. Rocket felt his mind slipping again, hips pulled into Sword's crotch in a consistent, hard rhythm. He was so wet, if he had any mind of it, he would've already started rubbing at his clit.
That voice was back in his mind, prodding at the seams. Begging for him to just give in, to let the fuzzy feeling in his throat wander up into his head, pulling him under in a sea of cotton and fluff.
He shook his head this time, and was met with Sword unlatching, leaving behind broken bruises and hickeys, marks that would certainly stay for weeks. Rocket opened his eyes again, catching the primal, almost angry look in Sword's eyes. It felt so surreal, reading his best friend like an open book that was simultaneously half closed.
The hands that had gripped his hips like a lifeline dove downwards, sliding Rocket's pants off of his body unceremoniously. Rocket gasped, feeling the cold air of the room hit his wet cunt, jerking his hips up on impulse. Sword purred, leading a single finger up to it, sinking it in immediately.
Rocket squirmed. Sword spoke again. "I love you, so much. Why won't you just let me in?" His hand was none too gentle, sliding in and out of Rocket. Quickly, another finger was added, the wet sounds increasing in volume as Rocket found himself being skillfully stretched.
"I love you more than anything, Rocket." A finger scraped against a spot, and Rocket shuddered, and gasped.
"Fuck, Sword, I,.–"
Sword moaned. "That's right, you're so pretty. Please let me in. I love you. I'll take care of you forever."
Rocket felt everything getting fuzzy. "Yes, you're so good for me. My good boy."
His hips jerked up, sinking Sword's fingers–now three–deeper within Rocket. Fuck, it felt good. The insistent feeling prodded at his brain. Rocket felt his resolve crumble.
Sword spoke erratically, seemingly rambling. If Rocket was more aware, he'd grow concerned at how frenzied the swordsman seemed to be.
"Yes–you'll be so perfect. I couldn't have you before, but now, you're mine."
Rocket could only mumble out amidst his rocking hips and trembling legs. "–Yours, I'm,,. yours."
Sword sucked in a sharp breath. The fingers retracted out of Rocket, and he whined in protest. Sword shushed him gently, runes floating off of him in a way that painted him ethereal. Rocket looked up at him, eyes flicking downwards to where Sword fumbled with his pants, quickly taking his erection out, and lining it up with Rocket.
It wasn't gentle by any means, but Rocket felt his awareness start slipping out of his hold. He tried to squirm, but his hands were quickly gathered and bound above his head. Sword started at a pace, fucking into Rocket at a slow, yet deep pace.
Rocket cried out, little moans and whimpers making him clench down on Sword with every thrust.
"That's it. Good boy. Submitting so nicely for me." The words spoken to Rocket only made him keen, back arching.
"You'll let me make you perfect for me, mhm?" Rocket could only nod. The words felt like honey, seeping into the corners of his brain and bringing him down to a fluffy headspace. He went limp, body giving in to Sword at last.
"Good, so good. You'll be so pretty, and perfect. You'll let me fill you too, hm?"
Another nod. Sword's pace picked up, and Rocket moaned out his name, body shuddering as he felt Sword's dick graze a spot inside him that made him feel good. Rocket tried to move his hips to match the pace, but instead was met with Sword's rough grip, clamping down on his hips. He whimpered as he was then moved up and down roughly, hips slamming down to meet Sword's as he was speared full, over and over again.
One of his legs was picked up and hoisted over Sword's shoulder, the metal of his prosthetic scraping against Sword's armor. He was pressed down until he was nearly folded in half, Sword's whimpering becoming much louder. He was muttering, rambling against Rocket as Sword's nails grazed deep red lines into Rocket's waist.
"Mine, you're mine. I'll make you mine forever. You'll never want to go back. We'll be happy. They cannot hold you from me any longer."
A sharp toothed kiss to his neck made Rocket scream, a weird feeling settling over his nervous system. He felt sensitive, but also strange, as if Sword's muttering and praise was making him want to be here, all the time. Rocket made a sound of confusion, but was shushed by Sword shakily in their harsh movement.
"Shh, just let it happen, my pretty boy. My pretty Rocket, we'll take such good care of you. You'll be so happy." Sword's arms hoisted Rocket up so he was now driving into Rocket's sweet spot over and over, making him scream.
"Fuck, Sword, I, nnh–" Rocket whined out, voice increasing in pitch with every whined syllable.
"Come on, my good boy, cum for me. I'll make you mine. I'll stuff you full ." Sword's voice dropped in pitch, growled into Rocket's ear. Rocket spasmed, cunt clenching as he was thrown over the edge.
Sword did not stop. Rocket whined and shuddered, eyelashes fluttering as his arms ached, stuck tied above the two of them. He felt so fuzzy, the only feelings in the world currently being Sword, and the way his cock hit every good spot inside of him. He didn't seem able to keep up the pace for long, thrusts becoming erratic and short. Rocket keened again, unable to speak even a word at this point.
"Oh, you're– you're so pretty. I'm gonna– fill you. Forever." Sword hardly got out, hips stuttering and stopping, pushing Rocket into himself as he came. Rocket moaned out at the feeling, warmth flooding up into him. Somewhere, he felt complete, and he went even more limp, Sword crooning in adoration as Rocket totally submitted.
"You're so pretty. I'm not done with you yet."