Breaking In a New Weapon
By Koopasi
NSFW, feat. Groot and Rocket Raccoon 
Tentacles, bondage, alien heat, brief feral mind takeover

Rocket Raccoon was tinkering, as he often did, hunched low over some component or other of the many odd weapons he’d brought with him, his tools all over the hotel room floor. Rocket was a rather petite, but wiry merc with a mouth, small and furry and fond of firepower. He and his partner in crime, Groot, were between jobs; mercenary work was fairy dry in this sector, and the pair were looking for just one more hit before they moved on. 

It was a nice sector; the people were generous and non-judgmental, they didn’t even ask for payment up front when Rocket reserved their rooms to stay for the night. People trusted people implicitly here, which was probably part of the reason that jobs of Rocket’s specialty were so scarce. 
The room they’d negotiated for the time being was humbly furnished, but it had more space than the bunk in their ship to stretch out and spread out their belongings. Rocket was taking advantage of this and had disassembled his gun and was tuning up several mechanisms. Groot came into the room just then with an unusual expression on his rough-hewn features. 

Groot was a tall, tree-like alien known as a Flora Colossus, with limbs like boughs that had been twisted tightly together and a torso core coated with plates of brown bark. Vines and moss grew on the mottled, wooden flesh and his face was rough and stoic with watery eyes. Above, a crown of chipped plates overflowed with green growth that spilled down over his shoulders like extra “natural” dreadlocks. 

Groot spied the hard-working space raccoon and smiled to himself. As he walked along, the scent of wafting pollen, heady and unusual was left in his wake. Something was up with him this evening, though it wasn’t immediately apparent what it was. He sat down beside Rocket, who didn’t look up, but clearly sensed his presence; it was hard not to notice Groot, if the aroma wasn’t enough of a giveaway, his great, quaking footfalls could be felt well in advance to his physical arrival.

“I am Groot?” the great tree asked Rocket, which translated to: <Any big bounties on the horizon?> He spoke in Groot-speak, but they knew each other so well that the tree's words were practically translated in Rocket's head. Groot had very limited vocal capabilities, only able to actually say what sounded like ‘I’ and ‘am’ and ‘Groot’, in that order, but the tiniest little shifts in tone and inflection changed the meaning, and those that knew him learned to understand him remarkably fast.

Rocket grunted his acknowledgment, but didn’t answer the question, squinting through the barrel of a piece of metallic piping he was working on filing down.

Groot was in a funny mood today though, it seemed; the season on the planet they were staying on happened to be extra verdant at present, with warm wind wafting in through the strangely-shaped window. Petals of new blossom growth carried on the winds like migratory birds; it was mating season for the trees. The looming, creaking Flora Colossus was eying Rocket's rear with unabashed attraction. 

<I can see one big booty on my horizon at least,> Groot growled playfully.

Rocket looked up and around, he caught Groot’s gaze focused on his backside and frowned. He wasn’t that surprised, there were times that Groot had gone through frisky phases before after all, the planets they visited had all kinds of weird seasonal cycles for plant growth, which Groot seemed attuned to after spending a little time on their surfaces, and the raccoon himself was no stranger to… well, rut… no need to go too deeply into that now, he told himself. He turned back to focus on his tinkering work, the slightest heat in his cheeks.

“Didn't think it was that big but I guess ‘in the eye of the beholder’ or some shit,” Rocket grumbled, thankful for the grease streaking his cheeks for they probably hid the flush of color there.
Groot chuckled in his deep, creaking voice. <Well, by "big" I meant valuable. I was mixing metaphors because your ass goes beyond description.> The tree laughed again, he was very giggly tonight. <It is pure and priceless, love.> 

“Love?” Rocket looked around again; he saw that Groot was using his tendrils to make a heart shape, which framed Rocket’s fairly filled-out raccoon rump. He scowled and the tree grinned and rolled his eyes cattily. 

<You know you love my pet names, sweetiepie,> Groot said with smooth sweetness, his syruppy voice flowing like honey into Rocket’s brain. The working raccoon couldn’t help but be distracted by his partner’s tone and accidentally dropped his tools and swore under his breath. Groot didn’t seem to notice though and went on flirting, <You know I'd love to "plunder" that booty sometime too, baby’s breath. “Once more into the breeches!” As they say,> Groot laughed his rumbling, low laugh, shifting on his hips with a sound like a deck settling. Rocket, fingering his cyber spanner, shot him a half-amused, half-puzzled look.

“Y’know for a walking tree you sure read a lotta Shakespeare,” he said. 

Groot’s amber eyes twinkled.

<How do you think I got so gay if not by reading the Bard?> he rumbled. Groot’s sexuality was hardly a secret to those that could understand his lingo. Even when he wasn’t under the intoxicating influence of some planet’s sex-drive supercharging springtime, he was unapologetically affectionate and his interest in males could not be denied. With a sigh, Rocket finally seemed to realize he wasn’t going to get any work done, not with Groot bringing this atmosphere with him; he set aside his tools and wiped his oily forehead and facial fur with a rag. 

“That’s fancy sentimental talk, y’know, but I suppose that’s to be expected of you, ya big softie.” Rocket growled gruffly, but he was grinning behind his whiskers.

<You know, Terran literature holds some of my favorites: “Shall I compare thee ass to a summer's day? Thou's bum is more lovely and more fruitful.”> Groot waggled his ligneous brows playfully as he recited, dewy eyes still locked lovingly on Rocket’s posterior.

The raccoon furrowed his brows before rolling his eyes. He self-consciously shifted on his seat, turning his rump away from Groot’s indecently focused gaze. 

"Alright, alright ya made yer point, big guy... Flark…" Rocket grunted as a twinge in his muscles made him wince. Looking concerned, his plantform partner leaned down.

Gently, Groot lifted the ‘coon into his arms and gave him a tight, affectionate hug with no small amount of groping included. Rocket growled and batted at the cheeky pinches, his face blazing.

“Let me down, ya pervy plant, I’m fine!” he snapped. If anyone else had done the picking up, they’d be looking at broken fingers, a broken nose, and probably an impaired ability to have children, but Groot was Rocket’s tree, his perch in the midst of battle, and he’d earned the right to pick him up from time to time.

With another chortle, Groot plopped Rocket down onto his knees.

<Sorry, couldn’t help myself, but you look so tense, tulip, won’t you let me help you out?> Groot asked, his sly tone shifting to one of more genuine care. Slowly, his great, dexterous hands began to rub and massage all along the raccoon's body from the nape of his neck, along his shoulders, and on down his spine. Groot was extra mindful to skirt the sensitive spots and the implants from the genetic experimentation that traumatically haunted the little raccoon’s past. Rocket shivered as those wooden hands massaged his back. 

“Eugh, you weird, hunky tree..." Rocket groaned. His ears were rigid and his muscles were tensed, but he wasn’t pushing him away. Slowly, he started to relax.

Emboldened by this, Groot kept working the shorter male's muscles, kneading the tension from his trapezius and temples; some extending flexible tendrils that were more adventurous started to work their way around to the front to rub at Rocket’s chest through his jumpsuit. A sharp intake of breath made Groot pause.

<Do you want me to stop?> he asked softly, his hands halting in their soothing, sensuous work.

Rocket’s mind was awash with contradicting desires. He groaned in a mixture of comfort and annoyance. Groot had “accidentally” hit a sweet spot by teasing the raccoon’s nipples through his suit.

"Mmmmrf… I'll- I’ll let ya know if you go too far,” Rocket said, finding his voice somewhere in the stormy sea within his mind “F-fer now just make sure ya don't grow any… any thorns alright?" After a moment’s hesitation, Rocket leaned back, resting his head on his partner’s large pecs.

Groot beamed and rumbled another soft, creaky chuckle, which Rocket certainly felt, vibrating in that broad chest. 

<Wouldn't dream of it, my rose,> he cooed, and his fingers went back to their muscle massaging work. A couple tendrils found their way under Rocket's clothes now. Steathily, they slid down the center of the ‘coon’s pecs to trace the furrows of his furry abs. Leaning against the tree was surprisingly comfortable, Groot’s own chiseled chest and lustrous, burgundy bark were a lot softer than one would think. In the lush, fertile atmosphere, a thin layer of moss had grown like body hair from Groot's chest, expanding like a velvety coating from the cracks in the plates.

Rocket gritted his fangs as he sucked air in through them. The tree had hit another sweet spot. 

"Ah, fuck...." Rocket cursed under his breath. “Nngh…”

The gentle branches were slowly massaging his furry pecs and, as the rebuilt raccoon tensed, the space betwixt his pectorals tightened, surrounding Groot’s searching vine down their center in his furry muscle. Groot grinned at this unintentional “hug”. The tip of his tendril hesitated, then snaked down his partner’s abs ever further south.

<Shhhh, my flower, shhhh…” Groot whispered to his friend.

"I don't know how you do it but—" Rocket grunted in reply, but trailed off, the words sliding out of his head as relaxation and a growing haze of pleasure settled in instead. He just sighed in confused contentment.

As this was happening, Groot had the fuzzy male in a kind of cradling harness with his hands working Rocket's sides; his subtle vines had extended and unwound along Rocket’s limbs, working their way around the sensitive parts and crevices. As the one near Rocket’s abs went even further south, skirting the navel and nestling softly in Rocket's bush of pubic fur, Rocket let out a gasp, gripping one of the larger creature's biceps for support. The smooth plantflesh was rubbing his lower tummy while other dexterous tendrils worked their way down the back of his suit and rounded his tail to rub the taut, stout, muscled rump he so adored. 

<You're so tense, my precious bud, let ol' Groot help you relaaaaaax...> the titanic tree spoke his low rumble directly into Rocket’s ears. It was more than a voice, it was a sensation; the sonorous sound waves pulsated through Rocket’s body, through his very being.

A thought surfaced from the simmering stew that his brain had become, a prideful one imagining anyone he knew seeing him like this. He was struck with shame that the wooden beast was so easily manhandling him; Rocket’s fangs bared in a grimace. 

"Ah!" A moan had nearly escaped him, but the embarrassment made Rocket try to bite it back. His sheath twitched and throbbed as the pubes above it were teased and tugged, brushed through by the growing tendrils, like ivy feeling its way along the lattice of a trellis. The raccoon’s ringed tail lashed back and forth as his furry, muscled ass cheeks were kneaded. It was such a strange mixture of feelings... arousal, embarrassment, euphoria? The way Groot instinctively seemed to know which of Rocket's buttons to press and which to steer clear of was certainly proving a disadvantage for the proud space ‘coon. 

"E-easy now, big guy… Y-you’re going to make me… make such a mess," Rocket bit his lip, his breath coming harsher. There was an unhideable presence in his drawers now, pressing out, swelling in a considerable tent against the fabric. The raccoon was certainly well endowed, beating the ceiling size of most raccoon’s genitals by leaps and bounds. Rocket’s face burned like fire. “I-I’ll blast you to bits- w-with my new gun if you d-don’t stop this now!” Rocket stammered very unconvincingly, especially as his voice broke off into a needy moan halfway through the threat. His little paws did try to scrabble feebly at the tendrils that had formed a secure, bonding harness around his torso and pelvic regions though. 

But Groot was only holding Rocket closer. His smooth, wooden cheeks were pressed against his partner’s own. At the same time, the tree’s tendrils were continuing to work, tackling every tense muscle, teasing pleasure from each one until it went limp and Rocket’s half-hearted resistance waned. 

<Now, now,> Groot said, and his voice was echoing in Rocket’s hot, emptying head. <No more talking, no more fighting, just let it all go...> The tree’s fastidious fingers found the clasps and zipper of his friend's jumpsuit and, slowly, they started to undo them. He had to get better access to Rocket’s fine, shapely body.

Again, had it been anyone else the raccoon would have either shot or mauled them indiscriminately, but somehow he couldn’t bring himself to so much as snarl at Groot. Slowly, Rocket’s zipper ran down his body and the two halves of his suit parted. His heaving, muscular body was revealed, tense and twitching from Groot’s euphoric ministrations. Rocket had always been very well built, at least for a genetically altered raccoon. His fur-coated muscles were stacked and sinewy, built up from a lifetime of hauling weapons larger than he was tall.

“Humfff…” Rocket grunted. His furry pecs and abs tensed, taut with anticipation. He turned his head and looked up at Groot, his body gleaming with a mixture of sweat and syrup that seemed to have been exuded from Groot’s wandering tendrils. With glazed eyes, Rocket let his hands rub up and down Groot's thick pecs. “P-please…”

Groot smiled, he slid the raccoon's suit down more, exposing his fine round rump, a treasure to Groot’s gleaming eyes. A tendril slid down the crack and between Rocket’s legs, tickling the underside of his partner’s full, furry orbs. The cheeky vine came to meet the vine in front as they both wrapped around the ‘coon's sizable, and swiftly swelling, shaft. 

<How's that feel, my blossom bud?> Groot rumbled knowingly, the vibrations running all the way to Rocket's core, making his metal implants tingle in a mind-numbing way. Some feral need was being awakened within Rocket from the overload of sensation, a feral instinct to… to submit. There was a godly strength to Groot’s handling, an undeniable power that made it abundantly clear he could easily rip the raccoon limb from limb; but there was a gentleness in Groot too that also made it clear he never would. Rocket’s ears folded submissively. It was degrading in the best possible way; oh fuck, yes! Rocket felt the superior strength behind Groot's careful handling, and though he was at the beast’s mercy he found that he felt safer in the wooden clutches of his longtime partner as a guardian than he would anywhere else in the galaxy, perhaps the whole of the universe. Groot’s touch was pleasure and the raccoon’s very fur was on fire with it. <My precious, precious sapling…> Groot's soft lips kissed him, on his ear, his cheek, and, finally, finally, they found his mouth. Groot’s tongue was sweet; he tasted of honey.

As their lips parted, a million years later it seemed, Rocket’s lidded eyes dazedly admired the other male’s huge, herculean, perfectly chiseled physique. The moss-softened pecs and rough, rugged abs were a sight to behold and even more of a luxury to touch. He groped Groot’s mossy pecs while nuzzling between them. His hands were too small, he found, they were so dismally inadequate to touch everywhere he wanted to. 

But the Flora Colossus sighed happily as Rocket's petite, but skillful hands rubbed at the broad plates of his pecs, which were swelling and deflating with his slow, gentle breathing. <That's it... there's only you and me,> he said into the raccoon's ear, voice husky. 

The vines strung their way around, making a full, secure harness around Rocket's crotch and shoulders. This allowed Groot to hold him suspended securely in place, freeing his gentle hands to indulge in cupping and squeezing the fine, thick, ring-tailed rear that had caught his eye to begin with. The ‘coon’s cock twitched in Groot's grip. His rumpcheeks clenched as the tendril flossed between them almost like the strings of vines were a sort of g-string (Groot-string) thong. And the tendrils tightened, winding their way up Rocket's thick cock like stripes on a candy cane; then they started to pump, working like a compressing spring, slow at first and gradually gaining speed. <You are my sweet, little orchid and I will care for you... Now… grow for me.>

Groot was mumbling ever more sweet, flirtatious, and increasingly sexual utterances while his touch explored every inch, every nerve, every fur follicle of the gorgeous mammal he held.

Rocket began to breathe heavily, the weight of his arousal on his usually methodical, calculating mind was becoming more and more obvious with each passing second. His heart was racing and with it, his thoughts, each one hardly pausing enough to be recognized; his normal wit and wide grasp of words was dissolving into gibberish on his mind’s tongue, a caveman’s needy vociferations replacing all logic. ‘Want… fuck… touch… now!’ 

Rocket’s furry sheath had peeled back enough to expose his entire exceptionally large cock, which was now stiff and throbbing in Groot's grasp. Clear drops of precum were leaking from the tip and creating translucent strings that stretched in a drooping strand from the raccoon’s cock tip to the treeman’s slender ivy creepers. Rocket’s ass clenched tighter as Groot groped and had his feel of it. Rocket’s puckered tail hole was hot and nervous. He was hot all over, too hot!

"Ugh… You- you’re gonna make me melt!” the raccoon panted, voice hitching up an octave as a tendril got a little too familiar with his back entrance. “I ain’t a toy, you big… horny… thing!” Rocket’s tongue felt swollen and too wet; he tried to swallow. Groot was still whispering sweet nothings, but the fuzz was thickening in Rocket’s head, words coming with greater and greater difficulty, more brainpower being dedicated to appreciating what was going on further down in his body.

 “I-I ain’t pickin’ up on half'a what yer saying, ya weirdo… But damn does that feel good..." he admitted, collapsing in the tender, all-encompassing grip.

Limp as a rag doll, Rocket listened to the larger form breathing, slow and deep, like the tide of the ocean; Groot was a force of nature. He let himself lick and rub up and down Groot’s thick pectoral plates, inhaling his scent, practically worshipping his partner’s muscular form, or as much of it that he could reach anyway.

And, as Rocket pressed into his broad chest, Groot let out soft rumbles of happiness, settling back to sprawl across the meager bed of their lodgings, his back against the wall.

 <Do you… want me to fill you up… with my love, Rocket?> Groot asked, voice growing husky as his tendrils pushed the raccoon's rumpcheeks a little further apart. The sweet, earthy scent of Groot’s wood and faint musk filled the raccoon's nostrils, wafting from the treeform’s lap. 

A jewel-bright glint of color from below caught Rocket’s eye and drew his misty gaze downwards. A plate in Groot's crotch had opened up, bark parting by some mechanical means Rocket had thus far been unaware of in his friend’s anatomy, and a bright, emerald green appendage had swollen into life. Like a mighty, ripening fruit, Groot's cock was swelling forth, shiny and slick-looking with a bioluminescent glow about it. It was simple and cylindrical with an engorged, mushroom-like tip. Groot’s alien member grew larger by the moment in slow, rhythmic throbs that matched in sync with Rocket's own heartbeat.

Rocket said nothing, staring at the beast as it bloomed into life. The raccoon’s answer to the tree’s question came in the form of a hesitant nod. He gripped the moss on Groot's broad, manly chest, taking great fistfuls of the thick carpeting, grounding himself as best he could. He breathed heavily in anticipation for what would come next. Rocket was no pushover, anyone close to him knew this very well; he was more bark than bite, but it was a close thing. However, when it came to sexual experience in the… anal department, he was as tight back there today as he was the day he was born; in this specific area, he was practically a virgin. 

Groot seemed to understand this without being told; they’d never discussed sexual partners in any serious capacity, why would Rocket go to a tree for relationship advice, after all, especially with the raccoon’s rap sheet? The subject had only been broached as it related to how acquaintances conducted their love lives; if there was one thing Rocket loved, it was judging and mocking dumbasses by negging their dates, whether or not he knew them. He talked big on his own score of one-night-stands, but in terms of actually having a lasting, romantic, genuine connection with another person, he was as new to it as any prepubescent on their first date. Right now, Rocket was appropriately nervous to reflect that level of practical knowledge. 

<I'll be gentle, my sweet honeysuckle...> Groot tried to reassure his partner as they slid inexorably along the relationship spectrum to become lovers. The Flora Colossus used his soft vines to massage the exterior of Rocket's anxiously quivering hole, trying to relax the area. Groot's harness around the raccoon’s torso and pelvis held him steady, lifting him up so he hung in the air supported only by those powerful vines. The raccoon’s rear entrance was carefully lined up, like Rocket were a priceless rocket part at a NASA assembly yard, dangled along by a crane to be deposited delicately in its proper place. 

And then he, the payload, was slowly being lowered towards that plump, green fruit in Groot’s lap. Thin tendrils were still working Rocket's rear to loosen it up further, but as the hot, slick tip met Rocket's entrance, it was clear that it would not fit... not easily at least.

“Oh gods…” Riding the top of his friend's engorged planthood, Rocket could feel every thrumming pound of Groot's huge, plantform heart, all while the tendrils around his own cock squeezed and pumped, keeping Rocket on an agonizingly slow climbing journey towards bliss. 

A cool, wet feeling filled Rocket's tight rear just then, making him gasp, his spine arching—it was Groot's aiding vines squirting some kind of lubricant up into his passage. It tingled in a way he couldn't tell if he liked or not, but Rocket knew that, without it, he was going to be well out of luck and in for an even rougher time than he would be with it. He couldn’t suppress a shiver that ran from the ends of his ears to the tips of his toes, asscheeks quivering. Then, slowly, but still somehow much too fast, Rocket was starting to sink; pressure, gentle, but powerful was pushing him down to be skewered onto the treeman's rod. 

<Ah, easy does it... Please tell me if it hurts too much, Rocket,> Groot rumbled, those slow breaths speeding up. The towering treeform’s long, long legs were stretched out on the bed, easily extending off the foot of it and spread out on the floor. If Rocket didn’t know better, he’d say Groot had gained a good foot or two of height since he’d entered the room, so much fertility and strange erotic magic was in the air, he wouldn’t be surprised. Groot was so much bigger than him, in every conceivable way. <In we go…>

Rocket glanced back and up at the behemoth peering down on him with his ears pinned flat against his head. He was really unsure just how well he could take Groot's bizarre, botanical member considering he had next to zero experience even with “vanilla” insertions doing their piratical “booty plundering” beneath his tail. 

"I-I’m not so sure about- NGH!" Rocket exclaimed, clenching his teeth as his rear puckered against the pressing tip of Groot's growth, seemingly trying to close itself off to the attempted penetration, only to expand a second later, the pucker blooming just wide enough to wrap around the tree’s glowing, green tip. Rocket whimpered like a stray puppy as Groot slowly pushed in; Rocket’s own cock was steady now, not throbbing so much as bobbing, painfully hard and leaking a steady stream of pre as his body shifted. "F-Fuuuck..." he groaned. His tail was so hot, so tight, and his head felt the same, like his brain was overheating in the best way, sweat pouring off his forehead and dripping onto his eyelashes, joining unthinkable tears that were gathering in his eyes.

<Was that too fast?> Groot asked, and the slow pressure eased, Rocket kept in place with the great green tip just encroaching on his entrance. Groot was looking concernedly down at Rocket’s face, at how his tongue was lolling out and his eyes were slightly crossed. A swoop of slightly embarrassed anger slashed through Rocket’s nervous gut; his orbs clenched with need, he wanted more!

“D-don’t s-sstop now, you idiot! F-ffill me the fflark up!” Rocket slurred slightly, but his power bottom command was as coherent as anything. The raccoon’s small feet were flexing, the toes curling and fisting and splaying, his tail thrashing while shivers ran up and down his spine, building to involuntary spasms of pleasure. He was craving more, he needed more. Luckily, Groot was happy to oblige. The tree smirked.

<Such a thirsty sapling! But if that is what you wish...> he rumbled happily and the pressure continued, inching Rocket down and spreading him wide open. 

Rocket felt like he was cracking in half from below, the hot, wet fruit pushing inside, breaching like a burrowing beast. And it was so big— it felt like it must be as wide as a rocket launcher cannon, wider! It must be huge, the size queen thought, it feels so impossibly massive, I have to be taking Groot’s entire arm, surely! 

In truth it was probably around average in girth maybe a little under, even given proportional balance with Rocket being so much smaller. Groot didn’t want to damage anything and even though he was under the influence of a sort of plant ‘heat’ mating season he at least still had the presence of mind to not destroy his lover’s insides, not during their first time at least. Anyway, Rocket was making enough noise with only a few inches in, and he was swearing so much you’d think he’d gotten penetrated by a submarine torpedo, or the trunk of a sequoia.

Another inch down and Rocket’s tears started flowing. The pain and pleasure he felt were sprinting, neck and neck, to advance one over the other, but pleasure seemed to have a slight advantage, or was cheating. ‘Want… need… filled… gonna… burst!’ 

Groot was watching with amazement, the almost feral desire Rocket was displaying, his claws clambering against the tree’s chestnut chest, teeth gnashing and nipping at the odd untidy twig that jutted from his shoulders, practically giving Groot a much needed pruning. He was going wild, and he’d barely made it halfway down Groot’s shaft! 

Groot thought he ought to slow down before Rocket went full rabid. With care, he tightened his grip on Rocket, applying bondage to his flailing limbs. The raccoon struggled, but in vain, and was soon left panting, his eyes oddly unfocused, a feral look in them.

<Rocket?> Groot inquired a little uneasily. <Are you still in there, my bud?>

The raccoon blinked, he shut his eyes and scrunched up his brow, shaking his head, brushing a bit of froth away that had gathered on his lower lip. Gradually, the sense came back into his eyes, though sweat, grease, and tears still soaked his facial features.

“I’m… I’m okay, Groot,” Rocket reassured his partner, looking apologetic as he patted some of the scratch marks his claws had left in the moss and bark of Groot’s chest. “It’s just… a lot to feel, all at once. You got me worked up, all fired up like a laser pre-charge blaster, fit to blow off some punk’s head!” Groot relaxed a bit, if Rocket was talking about guns and explosions and dismemberment, he was definitely not so far gone as he feared. “D-don’t stop though! You wouldn’t leave the weapons unfired, would you?” Rocket let out a wheezy sort of laugh and wiggled impatiently; he was still being penetrated by several inches of glowing, green planthood, and there was still more to go.

<If you think you can take it, my flower,> Groot teased and the pressure started again, with a little surging spurt of it to start with, sending Rocket down a full inch and causing the raccoon’s breath to catch in his throat. 

It only took a minute more before Rocket was hilted in Groot’s lap, his fuzzy thighs were spread wide and his little raccoon toes were splayed. Both he and Groot were nearing their peaks with orgasm imminent. Rocket was sure his rear would never be the same shape again after this; in the raccoon’s usual overactive aggrandizing imagination he felt certain he’d been stabbed through to his stomach; in truth, Groot had barely nicked his prostate.

“So… full…” Rocket moaned, his body trembling, orbs quaking, taint stretched taut by the insertion. Groot just smiled inwardly.

<You took it all, my mighty oak,> Groot’s husky voice complimented.

“I-I did, didn’t I? Mmh… not just anyone could- could make it aaaaall the way to the bottom!” he exclaimed proudly, waving his paws like a tiny kid that had snuck on a roller coaster he wasn’t nearly big enough to ride. Rocket had been pierced securely, like a coonskin cap on a particularly manly hatstand peg.

Groot said nothing, he just rumbled happily from somewhere deep inside, like a slow roll of thunder over a forest of fir trees. They were teetering on that precarious precipice, a step away from mounting the summit, where pillow talk took on a surreal quality and was unlikely to be remembered later, with thoughts going a million miles an hour. An awkward moment extended one second, two seconds, with only their heavy breathing in the heady, humid silence.

“One… more… push—!” Seeing how Groot seemed frozen and indecisive, Rocket took initiative and wrenched his rear up an inch or two, giving a gleaming peek at a tiny sliver of Groot’s slimy green plant penis. Then Rocket slammed down once more, his orbs bouncing wildly as his own rod bobbed and flared. And then let loose.

“Ahhhnnh!”

<Ohhhhhh!>

Less than a second after Rocket, Groot reached his alien orgasm too, heat rushed into Rocket’s rear passages which had clamped down like a vacuum seal, hot, thick, syrupy liquid filling him up and coating the smaller raccoon’s prostate. Groot thrust his hips upwards, but Rocket was latched on and he merely rode the ride like he were on a gyrating wooden waveform, their voices singing moans in a lewd sort of harmonic chorus. 

Rocket was spraying spectacular spurts of long pent up “seed” of his own, great ropes of raccoon jizz flying across the room and spattering the far wall, an impressive launch from Rocket’s impressive “cannon”. Sticky semen splashed over the scattered bits and bobs of Rocket’s disassembled gun on the floor, (later he would discover that it made a serviceable oil for greasing the parts). The glorious, shining spurts continued for seeming eons, at least as experienced by the two imprisoned in interlocked intimacy, their throes of unending pleasure wiping all intellect blank and sight white and full of bliss.

Thought didn’t come back until they were left panting, Rocket still penetrated, splayed messily across the bed with the blankets twisted into knots underneath them. The head-swimming afterglow painted the room in rose sweetness, little lights dancing on the ceiling above. Rocket looked at his beautiful partner, and Groot did the same. Their lips found each other. Foreheads pressed together as the kiss broke, not by voluntary action on either one’s part, but because they were so exhausted from everything.

“Love you, big guy… we’ll… we’ll have to do this again… sssometime,” Rocket managed to mumble, slurring a little again. He may not have the energy to realize it right now, but Groot and his relationship was never going to be the same, it couldn’t be, not after this. “If you think… you can handle me,” the spent ‘coon giggled, still a little goofy from the lingering high.

Slowly, the fruit wilted in Groot’s lap; it retracted, trailing a small amount of sweet, sticky stuff that leaked from the no longer virgin, but still fairly tight asshole of the asshole raccoon, the gorgeous rump that had launched the ships towards sex to start with. They were both so tired and their bodies so taxed that the bed they were already on, Groot on the mattress and Rocket on Groot’s soft, mossy torso, invited them to sink into slumber.

<Of course, my beautiful blossom… and now, goodnight, sweet sapling—flights of angels sing thee to thy rest.> Groot rumbled and kissed Rocket one final time. A slight smile was exchanged, and then they dropped, together, into dreamland.

Outside the window, the seasonal spring wind carried the heady pollen onwards to excite a new pair.