A Bond Can Span Galaxies
“Another shot, Beck,” You shouted over the reverberating beat of the interspecies club, your fingers flicking over another empty shot glass to the growing pile of finished drinks as you rested with your back against the bar and spectated. Drinking served a purpose; it was a means to escape the life you found yourself perpetually stuck at the moment you stepped foot onto that ship. Terra was a long ways away from this dump of a planet, full of criminals and those running away from their problems; you fit the latter criteria, having shacked up with a visiting alien the first chance you could. Being out there among the stars had always been a fantasy to battle the boredom of living in a place like Montana, endless roads of absolutely nothing and greenery continuously destroyed until there was nothing left. Your city was small, a nameless blip on a map with a small population. Everyone knew everyone and it was with this staggering lack of privacy that you ran away when he stretched out his hand for you, grasped onto it like it was the anchor meant to save you.
But the veil lay heavy on your rose tinted eyes and that ship no sooner became a prison than a home. The captain, nameless to you now, had only wanted your human companionship for the novelty of it, not because he truly felt anything for you. The moment you were no longer this new, shiny toy, he tossed you aside on this forsaken planet of crime and criminal to fend for yourself. And fend you did, doing whatever it takes to keep yourself alive among thieves.
The shot glass is pushed across the bar to settle beside you by a plasma arm, the cup full of a purple and black liquid. The locals called it “A Piece of Death,” but you simply call it a way to forget for a while, forget your mistakes, and the scars just beneath the surface and waiting to be exposed when you’re sober. Reaching for the drink, you press it to your glossed lips and down the shot with no hesitation, the taste of pain and peace mixing together as it slid smoothly down your throat. Beck sure knew how to make a drink, you thought in passing before you set the cup down and pushed yourself back onto your feet. Bodies are vigorously thrashing about to the uproaring beat from an unknown planet and you are taken in quickly, pushing your way into the crowd, raising your arms up as your hips sway to the hypnotic beat. The taste of toxicity remains on your tongue as you lick your lips, eyes glazed over and not truly seeing anything beyond the flashing lights, the tentacles slithering about, the multiple arms and legs all moving in some semblance of dance. The club is chaotic but it is also relaxing to not have to think about anything but right here and now. Creatures of all species crowded in as the music turned up louder still, thrashing about in a frenzy of moves that reminded you oddly of the banging of heads and arms at the one rock concert you went to during your time on Terra.
The hands that gently slide around your hips are gentle and warm, and only when you don’t move away do they pull you back against a firm chest, the five fingers of each hand gripping harder as hips press against you firmly, moving in sync with your own. A shiver slithers up your spine from the sudden contact and you are powerless to how hot your skin suddenly feels as you rest your head back against a broad shoulder. It doesn’t cross your mind that this is a human male because you hadn’t had any contact with one for years since you left that forsaken planet. The touch is exhilarating and you sink further in the haze of music and hands tethered to your waist. Even when the beat lowers and the tempo depletes, you are still tied to this unknown person, eyes drooping from a sensation you’ve never felt before. When they pull on you to leave the club, you don’t know what possessed you to follow, what power in the universe guided you by his side, the cool air brushing against your bare flesh from your torn clothing. The night air on Plebis 6 is cold and brushing against your heated skin repeatedly and the chill even reaches the skin beneath the bandage around your neck that hides the only thing you have ever taken with you from Earth.
You can barely make out his face from the flashing lights that surround you, your feet unsteady as he carefully guides you further from this part of town and closer to the spaceship dock for outsiders. Plebis 6 is easy to abandon because it is just another stop on the way to figuring out where to go and who you are. You follow him willingly, his large hand warm around your own and holding onto your digits tightly as you stepped up onto his ship. It was a mess of electronics and clothing, and the male put a finger up to his lips to signal that you stay silent. With the influx of light, you are able to truly see the beauty before you. He’s much taller than you although that was apparent at the club with dark orange locks that framed his handsome face. In the limited light, you now see his maroon wardrobe and are suddenly hit with the knowledge that you know him.
Peter Quill is a giver, albeit, a clumsy one when drunk. The way his hands brush away your tarnished clothes and his lips work their way down your neck sloppily, tearing away the bandage on the way is nothing less of beautiful. And you are paralyzed the moment his lips brush over the single letter tattooed against your neck in a messy scrawl. The heart expands across your body as you cling out him, trying to keep your voice soft as breathless moans exhale from your throat and your vision goes foggy. He carries his lips along your neck, biting and sucking as his frame crushes you against a messy bed. You’ve heard of him, of Starlord, and his many feats across the galaxy, but you also get the feeling that you know him more than you should. His touch is familiar despite it being foreign and although you’ve never done something like this before, you are quick to attune to his touches and his body, tugging at his clothing so that he’ll get rid of it quickly.
Hot flesh meets your bare skin as he tears away the rest of your rags and peers down at you through the pale light of a nearby star. You haven’t seen a human male since you were eighteen, fresh-faced and inexperienced, not knowing about how life could and eventually would be. He is hard with a smooth plane of a chest, handsome features down to the blue of his eyes. It feels almost crazy how attracted you are to him within moments as you instinctively pull him against you and into a kiss, your eyes fluttering closed at will, fingers trembling from the impact of his soft mouth moving against yours. His left-hand glides down along your hip, stroking over the faded scar from a run in with Xandarians, the burns of a fire set on the fifth star of Klon, and the stitched up cut from the captain himself from the first time your period occurred while in his presence. Your body is full of scars, skin branded again and again from the places you’d visited and run from before ending up here. If not for the pleasure coursing through your veins, you would feel embarrassed at having someone see your disgusting body.
But Peter is not just anyone, you can feel it down to the tips of your toes as his mouth leaves yours for you to catch your breath, your heart palpitating wildly in your ears as he kisses at your jaw, inching back to that single letter that stands out. It’s special to you even if it’s caused you unfathomable pain. You resorted to covering it up after your “savior” called it a disgusting brand and refused to look at you when it was in sight. He found it embarrassing and such a human custom that he didn’t want to ever have to share himself with someone else. And eventually, that became his truth.
You battle that thought away and try to keep your mind from swimming in and out of feelings while Peter carelessly flicks his tongue at your pert nipples, chuckling as your breath hitches and grows heavier with each lick and bite. You want to know what’s on his mind and why he decided that you were worth bringing back to his ship. Maybe it was because you were so willing, easy. You admit that this is the quickest you’ve ever lay yourself bare to someone before without thinking of the consequences, but you can’t find it in you to care. Peter feels so right, so real, and your nails leave indents along his back as he lowers himself, mouth sucking down along your stomach. Your mouth falls open at the thought of his tongue lapping at your clit until you convulse in a soul-shattering orgasm, but sadly, that moment never comes.
His mouth leaves your skin before you can truly relish in the sensation and you can feel his breath against you as he breathed in deeply. The adrenaline is almost too much and before you can voice anything, you can feel the alcohol finally taking its hit, your mind sluggishly trying to stay in the present. The hero reaches for a blanket to the left of your arm and tugs it up and over your form once he slid back, his voice slowly fading away along with the sight of his eyes. The last thing you see is his turned back as he walked away, slipping into the inky darkness of the room.
“I can’t believe...
Finally…
You.”
“Waitwaitwait. You mean to tell me you left us stranded so you could go drink and play tonsil hockey with some space floozie?” The insult shrouded in the complaint is what wakes you, the small flashing star of this planet as bright as the Terran sun for a moment. Slowly, your arms get feeling and you push yourself up, squeaking softly and tugging the blankets in tighter when you realize you’re basically naked. Blinking and unable to focus from the drinks the night before (the last drink, A Piece of Death, is known to cause intense headaches the next morning along with potential internal bleeding and hormonal imbalance, but your body had moved past the internal bleeding and imbalance after the first few tries), you look around the room and try to recall the last thing you’d done. You could only remember the color blue, hands, lips pressed against your neck- a hand quickly raised to slap over the exposed skin of your neck, the bare flesh meeting your digits making your stomach drop.
“Hey, you shut up, dumpster rabbit! She’s not just some space floozie! It’s her! The one I’ve been looking for the entire time.” The second voice is heated and offended and you can’t make out the exact words but it sounds defensive.
“You found her?” It’s a female this time and the fact that there is another woman in the vicinity brings a small form of comfort. “After all this time? Are you sure you weren’t thinking with your lower organ instead of your brain?” The insult makes you unconsciously chortle before you slap a hand over your mouth. You didn’t want them to know that you were awake and listening in on such a private conversation.
“I thought you’d be on my side, Gamora! I’m telling you it’s her. I felt it in my soul.”
“He probably mistook it for a sensation in his human sexual organ,” Another voice chimed in, making the squeakier voice and the one who just spoke break out into laughter. Whoever they’re talking about only grows angrier.
“Hey, Drax, remember when we told him we picked up her signature on the Tenth Moon off of Doxis and he fell for it?” The squeakier voice laughs even more along with the deeper one at the joke.
“We almost got stranded because of you two! And I’m telling you guys, it’s her. Seriously! I even brought her back-
“You did what-”
“Quill, you’re an idiot.”
“I want to meet her!”
“I am Groot!” Before you can try and find your ratty clothing, the door to the room is busted through and what resembles a raccoon dashes in and crawls onto the bed. It’s reflexive and you truly feel bad about it later, but you screech at the top of your lungs in surprise and your foot lifts while still clad in the blanket to kick at what you know to be a rodent from Earth.
“Rocket! You’re scaring her!” The male standing in the doorway yells at the raccoon and stalks in to save him from your flurry of feet. He picks up Rocket by his harness and places him on the floor, rolling his eyes when Rocket bared his teeth.
“I was just trying to say hello, geez. You, humans, are so weird.” The talking rodent shuffles out of the room, mumbling under his breath about how Peter could suck the fun out of anything.
Peter is still standing at the foot of the bed, his eyes taking in her small, terrified frame; it’s like seeing her for the first time all over again because right now he isn’t drunk or out of his mind because of the bond and her sensations have calmed down. But there is no mistaking the pull he has to her and her entire being. It’s what drew him from the ship when they were only stopping in to dock for some gas and a night of rest before traveling to a distant planet for a mission. The moment the ship landed, he felt something was off, his tattoo had visibly darkened and grown flakey, peeling slightly to reveal more of her name. It had always been difficult to figure out who she was because her last name was not fully present, but was an extremely regressive form of Bonded tattoo that slowly uncovered the name over time and not all at once. It could also be the fact that he was part celestial that made his Bonded tattoo extremely delicate. Even now, he felt the insistent need to scratch at it as she stared back at him, the fear so stark and striking in her eyes that it is an undeniable punch to the gut.
“I’m sorry about him- he doesn’t know boundaries.” She clutched the sheets closer and visibly swallowed, peeking past him at the open door. Peter took a step back in order to gently close it, trying to give them privacy even though he’s sure the others will either eavesdrop or demand answers later.
“You have a talking pet... Raccoon?” It’s a strange question because of how basic it was in comparison to his life so far. He’d never been asked about Rocket before, at least not in that context. Everyone usually knew who they were because of how much they had done to secure the longevity and protection of the galaxy. But it did give him a sense of satisfaction that her shoulders began to relax and she didn’t flinch away when he took a step closer. He wanted to touch her again, to feel the same spark of heat he felt last night when her lips touched his and he had the animalistic need to mark her up. Looking at her now, she looked completely terran, made of human flesh and blood, and if she were, how did she end up here?
“Yes. He’s adopted,” Peter supplied, not keen on talking about the little trash panda when all he wanted to know was about her, her origins if she was honestly the one he’d been looking for, or had it been a trick of the light at the club. He didn’t want to think of Gamora’s theory, that maybe this girl before him was a liar and a fraud who pretended to get close to him. That would break the rest of his heart if it were true.
They are in a completely awkward silence when Peter realized that she’s naked under the blanket and he’d torn away the rest of her tattered clothes. Coughing loudly, the bumbling hero quickly headed over to the clean pile of clothes he’d never bothered to fold and tugged out a shirt. Passing it to her, he turned away to give her time to tug it on.
“Thank y-you,” Her voice is a bit raspy and her tongue is a bit shaky, but the airy quality of it is beautiful to his ears. He turns back to look at her and upon further inspection, he can tell that she is underfed and sleepy by the dark bags under her (e/c) eyes. Her hair is (h/l) and (h/c) with a streak of silver in her bangs and a small star tattoo under her right eye. He wondered how long she had been here on this forlorn planet full of degenerates “You are P-Peter Quill, right?” She asked, her lashes fluttering with every blink and he almost catches himself getting lost while staring at their movements before he snapped his attention away.
“You know who I am?” Her lack of knowledge about Rocket made it seem as though she’d never heard of them before- then again, he is a talking raccoon after all.
“I’ve heard so many stories about you from my travels.” It’s the shorthand version, but he doesn’t need to know that.
“Another question, are you terran? How did you get all the way out here? When did you leave? What’s your favorite food? Do you have any tattoos-” The babbling is a sign of his nerves but he can’t help it; she’s pretty and right there and he just wants to take a peek into her brain.
“Peter, that’s five questions-” His behavior is much different from the tales spun about him but the Peter Quill before you is real and peering at you in something akin to awe and that in and of itself causes heat to fester on your cheeks. Exhaling softly, you reach a hand up from under the covers and brush your digits against your exposed neck, covering the stark ‘P’ with your palm. He must’ve already seen it... The tattoo that always left her alone. No one ever wanted to keep her once they saw it; like a repellant, it kept her forever marked and no one would touch it so a safe removal was impossible.
“Fine, fine, then can I just ask you one more question, then?” You nod, unsure if you could even deny him anything. The pull to him was so strong that it was almost like an invisible link now tethered you to him. But how could you have impartially bonded to him over the course of one drunken night? Were you that desperate to feel loved? Despite giving him confirmation to ask anything, Peter visibly paused and from your vantage point, you see him rub at his forearm, stroking at the skin a few times.
“Okay, hear me out. I’ve been searching for someone for a really long time now and no matter how far I traveled, I could never find them. Last night, we were only stopping in for some gas and I felt pulled to that club and out of all the different creatures there, I found you. I’m not really a believer in coincidences or luck, and my friends think you might be some kind of phony who wants to trick us- but... Is your name (y/f/n), (y/l/n)?” You felt the rush of blood to your head at the sound of your birth name spoken through the air. You hadn’t heard that name from another person’s mouth since your mother called you a good for nothing who would never amount to anything with a partial Bond and no manners. Taking a moment to try and relax your stiff limbs, you lower the hand still pressed carefully against your neck and it’s as if the world began to turn.
“Are you my…” Bonded. The word never leaves your mouth for fear of it being a lie. You are nothing but a human runaway who strayed too far from her star system. You are but a small, insignificant crater and there would be no difference if you were alive or dead. Your family lived lightyears away and- why in the world would the universe with all of its mysteries decide that you were the perfect person for someone like Peter Quill?
Your Bond recoils, the single letter on your neck pinching. The flinch is visible and Peter can’t help but take a step closer to your form when the covers begin to tremble.
“I’ve known your name for so long. I never thought I’d get the chance to meet you. I didn’t know if you’d be human or alien or something else. I mean, I’d adjust but it’s- nice. That you’re you.” His voice grew in volume, the sound echoing both outside and within at the same time. If you had time to focus on anything other than the cloud growing over your head then you would find his babbling cute.
“Y-Yes, but... How can I be sure that... You are mine? The only thing I have is-” This single letter that both defined you and left you stranded when you needed help the most. You would never have a full name on your flesh, never know who was truly the right person of your heart. Even if Peter had your name, what if you had someone else’s? Someone else who had a ‘P’ name… He had to have seen it by now; a brief memory of a mouth lathering it with attention soaks your thoughts. There were so many possibilities that it frightened you that he was choosing poorly even if neither of you had voiced what being Bonded would mean. Alcohol-induced kissing was one thing but a full-blown relationship? You’d taken so many risks that fell flat before that it scared you now at the thought of another one.
“I guess I never really cared about that. I just wanted to meet you... But last night, I couldn’t stop my hands from touching you, from kissing you, from feeling like I was finally where I was meant to be.”
“It could’ve been the alcohol,” Your raspy voice murmured weakly in response; your own words cause the corners of your mouth to tug downward and you can almost feel Peter’s displeasure at it through the makeshift pull. You know you had more than enough to drink last night and you thought that the hero must've had too much to drink if he was at a club in full swing.
“But looking at you right now. I still feel that way,” He started, coughing softly and gazing upward, “I’m not really good at this stuff and I’m not good at.. Being with people. So I never tried to really be with someone in a real way but I get the feeling that if I let you go without even trying, then I would be a coward giving up something without fighting for it. I know it’s pretty fast and I haven’t given you a reason to stay with me and everyone here but you would never be alone again, (y/n). And if you decide that you don’t want to be with m- us, then we can take you somewhere safer or back to Terra.” There he goes again, saying your name with that soft looking mouth and looking more afraid than you could’ve imagined. This offer was different from the captain before who saw you like a fun way to pass the time; Peter offered the gift of a family, something you had run from and lost value in from your time alone. Could you really trust him? A
But if he was willing to try, then why not you? The damage done to you, emotionally and mentally, was significant, but how could you recover what you had given up if you weren’t willing to try? A chance to leave this planet and start over sounded like a blessing. The only person truly stopping you was your insecurities and worries.
“Pants.”
His gaze darts towards you, blinking at the single word as he took in your expression. Still cautious, but more open with the Bond slowly stabilizing. It was a good sign that maybe his speech had gone a lot better than he expected it to. He found a clean but rather oversized pair of pants for her to put on and turned back once more to pass them to her and give her privacy to slip them on, only glancing back when he heard her shift from the bed. She’s small, much shorter than him, and his shirt makes her look like she’s sinking into it. He wants to brush his fingers through her hair and press a kiss to her mouth that leaves her feeling faint, and then another kiss to the star against her cheek and another to her chin and her jaw and he just wants to kiss her everywhere but he shoves those thoughts into a box somewhere in the back of his mind, not wanting her to close off the Bond from feeling him too intensely. Peter was a patient man and he could wait to talk about the night before and all of those unvoiced possibilities when they were more comfortable around each other. She looked so fragile, unlike the other people on the ship, even Mantis, and he wanted to know her story but would ask another time. It would be an adjustment for everyone on the ship but they knew how much this meant to him; besides Rocket being an intrusive dumpster cat, he didn’t think he’d have to worry about anyone else being cruel to her. Drax would probably pretend to be invisible around her.
He offered his hand as a sign of camaraderie but his heart fluttered when she took it, encasing her tiny palm and helping her walk to the door to introduce her to the rest of the guardians. She seemed to be a bit better from the hangover than before and he thought of how much food he could offer her without it getting weird.
“I don’t know.. what to call us right now,” He heard her softly before they leave the room, growing attuned to the sound and pronunciation of her words while their Bond throbs from the skin-to-skin contact, “But I hope that I can give you everything you've been searching for. I'd feel pretty bad if you searched for me only for me not to give it my all.”
Maybe one day he could tell her that by taking his hand, she already had. But for now, he could settle on the precarious relationship they had settled on, keen on winning her over slowly, carefully, and with the love, he always wanted to give.
PT. 1/2