the boy callouses
Peter is 18 and running solo missions.
Two days after he turned 16, he bagged his first body with nothing but his bare hands and a well-utilized shirt sleeve, and Yondu decided he could take care of himself.
If Peter had known killing someone was the key to earning his freedom, he would have done it a long time ago.
But it’s been two years, and he is pretty damn good at getting shit done by himself. Peter’s still stowing away units, and he’s got his eye on a m-ship in the docking bay that he’s affectionately named the Milano.
He’s old enough now to drink with the rest of the Ravagers during a celebratory night out, and he’s smart enough to know to stay close to Yondu or Kraglin when he gets shit-faced.
Using his body and coy words to get things doesn’t feel quite as humiliating when Peter doesn’t have a ten-man team watching his every move.
He’s stopped caring about how he’s perceived. The Ravagers call him “pretty boy,” and he winks at them with a suggestive smirk.
Peter knows that he is safe on the Eclector because he’s long stopped believing in that “we’re gonna eat you” bullshit, and Yondu kills anyone who takes Peter’s role as the Ravagers’ sweet piece of ass in the wrong way.
“C’mere, Pete,” Kraglin beckons, grease-stained fingers performing a curling motion.
Peter hops off of the work bench that he’s sitting on and walks over to Kraglin. Kraglin is tucked halfway under a ship, tools spread out all around him. Peter grabs the nearest rag and a bottle of water.
Kraglin slides out from under the ship when Peter kicks his boot and takes the goods with silent appreciation.
He takes a sip of the water, wipes his mouth with the back of his hand, and then says, “Heard Yondu was sending you on a week-long mission.”
“Yeah,” Peter replies, plopping onto the floor next to Kraglin. “I’m infiltrating a royal family or some shit.”
Kraglin raises an eyebrow at him. “Sounds fun.”
“Eh,” Peter mused, leaning back onto his hands, “it’s nothing I haven’t done before.”
“Yeah, but this is the first time you’re doing it without a team behind you. You ready for that?”
“Yeah, of course. I’ve been running solos for years.”
“Nothin’ like this, though.”
“I’ll be fine, Krags.”
“No doubt, Pete. No doubt.”
Peter’s lips are pressed against Princess Mi’auli’s firmly, one hand gripping her waist and the other sneaking into her pocket for the golden rings he saw her put there earlier. He’s already hooked up a transfer to the royal family’s system to steal units; he’s just waiting for it to finish loading.
Mi’auli throws him onto the bed in an impressive show of strength, lips trailing down his neck and hands running up and down his chest.
Peter has managed to slip the rings into his back pocket, so he doesn’t think that Mi’auli is going to find them. As her lips begin to descend down his chest, he peers over her shoulder to chest his wristband. The wire is at 86%.
He only has to stall for a little longer.
Although, with the speed in which Mi’auli is removing his clothes, Peter is gonna end up having sex with the Afgali princess.
He checks his watch again - 93% -, and his pants are shucked across the room. Peter winces, listening to see if the rings sprung from the secure spot in his pocket. As far as he could tell, they remained safely tucked away.
Mi’auli trails blue lips down his bare chest, Peter arching into the touch automatically.
“Star-Lord,” she murmurs, voice breathy and antenna glowing bright green.
“Mi’,” Peter responds in turn, hips surging against hers and hand running through her midnight locks.
100%. Score.
“Petey,” Yondu greets, clapping Peter on the shoulder.
Peter wordlessly presents the hard drive, smirking all the while. Yondu chuckles and snatches it from his hand.
“That’s my boy,” he gloats, teeth sharp and silver-encased.
In Peter’s pocket, the rings burn, a reminder of his awaiting freedom. He sticks around long enough to have a few Ravagers slap his back In congratulations, wolf-whistling at him, and calling him playful names.
After that, Peter sneaks away to his bunk and stashes the rings with the rest of his stowaway units. Next time he’s on Xandar, he’ll pawn them off.
For now, he collapses into his cot, slips his headphones on, and gets lost in The Jackson 5.