Knowhere
Yondu may not be sure of everything, but he knows this: with what the Collector voluntarily gives Gamora, he had to owe her a few dozen favors, not just the one. She comes back with a veritable ton of parts and materials that she, Kraglin, and Peter lug onto the Wanderer. While the others source cargo, Yondu connects into Novanet, finding online the rest of what they’ll need – including a quiet little planet where they can make the first of their several critical repairs.
Does he hate being left behind? Absolutely.
Does he recognize the sense of the plan? Unfortunately. He still hates that Nebula is the one who gets the honor of touring the stalls and seedy shops of Knowhere with Peter and Kraglin. That she buys the boys their first sweets, their first alcoholic beverages, their first real clothes.
He especially hates what she buys Kraglin to wear. His boy returns to the ship in butter leather black trousers, heavy black boots, a belt perfect to strap to the thigh holster and new blaster on his right hip. A long-sleeved black shirt and black leather duster set off the look. Yondu manages to say, “Gah.” And then yanks Kraglin into the nearest empty room.
Kraglin looks a little worse for wear when he’s released, but he’s grinning, so Yondu feels justified dragging him away for a blow job.
Peter, when Yondu can finally see anything beyond Kraglin’s sexiness, looks adorable in his pants, sneakers and tee. “Ya got an eye for fashion we didn’t know about?” Yondu asks Nebula, after taking a moment to coo over Peter. “Maybe ya oughta start making hats ‘er somethin’.”
“Don’t be stupid. I had a clerk help me. I told her to dress Kraglin for someone dark and dangerous. Seems she took my description to heart.”
“Ya get him anythin’ else to wear?”
“You’ll see,” she mocks.
“She-devil.”
“Maybe. I think you’ll be more impressed by the arsenal I got him.” She pushes a few crates towards Yondu, smiling. “And he was able to use each weapon with precision. Tiger stealth and coordination skills translate to knives and firearms. Who knew?”
If he didn’t want to kill her so often, he might’ve grudgingly thanked her. Instead, he grunts, grabs the pair of crates, and hauls them to the captain’s chambers. “Hope ya got me somethin’ ta wear in here too, woman!”
She laughs at his retreating back.
When he arrives in the captain’s cabin, he’s glad they decided to get Peter his own room. Peter’s transformation from cub to pre-teen had caused issue; the two hundred plus pound tiger hadn’t fit on the cot in their shared room any longer. Now, he’s down the hall, filling his room with trinkets and sweets thanks to Nebula.
Yondu misses the brat, but is also thrilled to have a space for he and Kraglin alone. And, speaking of, “Whatchu doin’ in here all by yerself?” he asks.
Kraglin stretches from where he’s sprawled over the bed. “Can’t find my legs,” Kraglin says. “They went limp a little while ago. Don’t know why.”
Oh. The blowjob. “Ya lookin’ ta find yer legs, or ya lookin’ ta repeat earlier?”
“Both?” Kraglin’s grin is both sweet and naughty. “Assuming you’re interested.”
Yondu hasn’t been this horny since he was a teenager. Back in those days, at the hands of Kree masters, he didn’t do much about it. But now… he intends to make up for lost time. “Lose the clothes if ya don’ want ‘em ripped off.”
Kraglin’s reply is to pull his shirt off and throw it at Yondu. “So I gotta admit, Nebula took me someplace else today. Without Peter.”
“Where’s that?”
“Something she called a personal pleasure shop,” Kraglin says, blushing. He holds up vibrantly-colored bottle of lubricant and the points to a box in the corner. “She said, and I quote, that ‘machine oil isn’t supposed to be stolen so we can fuck, so we might as well replace it with something useful.’ I may have gotten a little carried away.”
Yondu’s jealous for not getting to go, turned on by Kraglin’s willingness to get kinky, and disturbed by the idea of his seventeen-year-old mate alone in a sex shop with Nebula. He thinks about it for a second and realizes that ‘turned on’ wins the round. “Show me.”
Kraglin leaps off the bed, finishes stripping his clothes, and drags the crate forward so they can both go through it. Yondu watches as his mate pries the top off, expecting to see dildos, vibrators, cuffs and clamps.
He’s faced instead with a ton of different bottles. He picks one up; the bottles are Terran and the one in his hand says, ‘strawberry’ on the label. “What…?”
“Aren’t they great?” Kraglin asks, proudly. “They’re all natural! Some of them have warming sensations, and others can be used as body cleanser, and some of them are useful for massages!”
Yondu stares. And stares some more. “But what about toys? Ya know, didn’t ya want to try the toys?”
Kraglin gives him a confused look. “Toys? I got some books and games for Peter because Gamora’s teaching him to read, but…”
“No,” Yondu says. “Not toys for Peter. I mean sex toys.”
“You mean those weird rubber things? But why would I get any of those? I have you! But this stuff… it’ll make showering more fun, and long rubdowns after a tiring day, and we can slip and slide against each other in bed. Isn’t that better?”
Yondu bites his lower lip to keep from laughing at the earnest enthusiasm on Kraglin’s face. Because aww. He knew his tiger was a hedonist, but this is too adorable. “You like the way this stuff smells and feels, doncha.”
Kraglin nods and Yondu throws in the towel. “One day I’mma gonna get ya one of them weird rubber things an’ make ya lose yer mind with pleasure,” he promises. “But this stuff? Way better. Show me whatcha got.”
Kraglin beams, passing Yondu little bottles of things called ‘coconut’ and ‘apricot’ and ‘peach’ and ‘lime’ and ‘cantaloupe’ and ‘watermelon’. There’s also ‘pina colada’ and ‘grapefruit’ and ‘burnt sugar’, which Yondu – under pain of death – admits smells amazing. “So ya wanna bath? Or ya wanna have a lil nookie-nookie?”
“Guess,” Kraglin replies, and rolls them onto the bed.
There’s definitely some slipping and sliding. And that burnt sugar gel really isn’t half bad. Not to mention, the warming gel might make Yondu so tingly that he can go three rounds in a row like a kid.
As they lay gasping for breath – an hour or two later – Yondu says, “You are forever in charge o’ buyin’ our stuff. I will never complain or question ya, deal?”
“Deal,” Kraglin gasps in return. And then they both pass out.