Chapter Text
The final phighting match of the day has just ended. The lobby emptied quickly – a few phighters celebrated their victory, along with others groaning in defeat. Some phighters regrouped with their friends, others desummoning their gear, heading off to the exit. The air lingered with residual sweat and the feeling of fading adrenaline.
Rocket put his arms out, groaning as he stretched out stiff muscles from hours of combat. He stayed around near the exit when he noticed a familiar figure dressed in shades of red and brown in the distance.
Sword hasn't left yet.
Sword stood in front of a marred target dummy in a proper stance, his movements mixed with frustration as he swung his gear with technique. Each strike tore through the layers as it quickly regenerated, light dust clouds forming and dissipating with every hit.
The soft squeaks of Rocket's chunky soles slowly sounded behind Sword, cutting to silence as it abruptly stopped, sounds of his sword swinging filled the air. A voice, warm and familiar, broke the silence.
“Sword? Why are you still here?” Rocket crept up from behind, tilting his head at the inphernal. It was unusual for Sword to stick around in the lobby, especially this late.
Sword’s breath hitched as his body jolted. His shoulders tensed, head wings spread out in reflex. Then he turned. Sword let out a small sigh of relief as soon as he recognized who it was, shoulders dropping as he eased up. It was his boyfriend.
The taller inphernal’s eyes lit up the second he recognized the other, “Rocket!!” Sword chirped. “That startled me! Please don’t do that again. Seriously, you’re going to give me a heart attack…” He added, his tone a mix between relief and genuine fluster.
“Sorry about that,” The blue-horned inphernal rubbed the back of his head. “You don't usually stay out here this late.” Sword's eyes followed the other until Rocket settled down on the curb, a few meters on the left near the target dummy.
Rocket’s left hand met the concrete, patting on the free space next to him. He looked back up at Sword. “Do you… Want to talk about it?”
Sword’s grip on the hilt of his weapon tightened, expression shifting to something hesitant. As far as Rocket knew, the inphernal had a sheltered upbringing, Sword never really had a social life as a newspawn. They've talked about this before; Sword has always struggled dealing with strong emotions, leading him to never learning how to deal with it properly himself and end up with unhealthy coping mechanisms like bottling up his emotions.
There was really no use in hiding it. Sword exhaled shakily before he walked over to Rocket, quietly sitting down beside him. His gaze was fixated towards his lap, he didn't want eye contact right now. “I— I dont know, Rocket.” Sword paused. “I'm not sure how to describe it.”
Without thinking (or maybe because thinking was too much), he fidgeted with his weapon resting in his lap; it was a nervous habit of his, twisting the hilt absent-mindedly between his fingerless gloved hands. “I've been on a losing streak these past few phights.”
Rocket nods along, making it clear he's listening. Sword's gaze shifted onto Rocket, his eyes unsure. Rocket swears his heart tightened at the sight. “I can't help but think… maybe it's because of me?”
“I-I mean!! – I'm supposed to be the warrior here, aren't I? Even then I still fail to protect my team.”
Sword continued, “That's why I have this need to get better, to prove that I'm someone the others can rely on.
“Wh– hey, hey, listen. Even if you think it is, it's not your fault.” Rocket reassured him. “You don't have to prove anything to anyone. We get unlucky in our phights sometimes, stuff like that happens and that's completely normal.”
“Plus, I think you're a great teammate. A pretty one at that. Don't ever think that you're any less than any of us here.” Rocket assured, planting a short kiss between his brows.
“Thank you Rocket… That makes me feel a bit better.” Sword smiled as he was kissed.
“If it helps you get your mind off of things, wanna use my rocket launcher?”
“No– that's the wrong way. You're supposed to hold it like this,” Rocket guided Sword’s hands to properly hold the front and firing grip.
There was something intimately strange about letting Sword holding a part of Rocket like this. Letting Sword hold Rocket’s gear was vulnerable in a way, similar to allowing another inphernal to touch their horns. It was an intimate act.
Sword aimed for the target dummy in front of him, concentrating as he tried to predict the trajectory in his mind. He pulled the trigger, recoiling as the rocket launched out, landing a hit on the target.
“Hey, this is actually not that bad!”
Sword gently let go of the firing grip, letting the shoulder pad rest on his shoulder for support. He noticed Rocket has been quieter than usual ever since he let Sword handle his gear. Sword was curious about something, and he wanted to find out whether or not his conjecture turned out to be true.
The swordsman’s rough, calloused hand slowly trailed up the base of the rocket launcher, feeling the cool metal and its grooves touch against his skin. Beside him, Rocket's body shuddered as he let out a shaky sigh, small sparks of sensations ran through his body.
“So you do feel it!” Sword leaned in, his face lit up like the inphernal had just struck gold.
“Of course I can feel it!!! Y’think I don't know that?!” Rocket shot back, as if it was common knowledge for someone to know about this. Obviously, Sword wasn't aware of this – especially since he never shared this act with someone else.
This newfound information was exciting news for Sword. With Rocket's gear in hand, the both of them exactly knew the direction this situation was headed off to.
“Just… let me know if this feels uncomfortable for you, okay?”
“Mm.”
Sword gave an experimental rub on Rocket's gear, his thumbs making soothing circles along the smooth, cold metal. The rocketeer squirmed underneath the touch, in a way people do where their bodies betray them. Sword observed the other through the corner of his eye, his hand slowly began trailing up the rocket launcher while keenly observing which areas elicit more reactions from Rocket.
His hand then made its way to the barrel, tenderly tracing the ridges. Another shock sent down onto Rocket's spine. Fingertips glided down, brushing against the glowing part of Rocket's gear right below the muzzle. Sword's fingers pressed down, putting pressure onto his gear.
The swordsman knew he did something right when Rocket yelped, a sound of surprise mixed between a soft moan. The rocketeer's body shuddered from the sensitivity, his eyes fluttering shut as he squeezed his thighs together in reflex.
“Mnh—!”
“You okay?” Sword muttered, his tone ending up softer than usual. The last thing he wanted to do was to hurt Rocket, after all.
“Y-Yeah,” Rocket rasped, "Just continue. I'll be fine.”
“Who knew having someone else touch your gear would make you feel this good…”
Rocket could only hum in acknowledgement. Sword eyed a certain part of Rocket's gear, his mind suddenly hit a bold idea. He lowered his head down and dragged the flat of his tongue along the side of the barrel in one slow, deliberate stroke.
The taste of cold metal hit Sword's tongue the moment he licked the barrel – it tasted a bit unpleasant, he had to admit, but who cared? Priorities shift quickly in moments like this. Right now, his top priority is Rocket. Sword's eyes stayed locked onto Rocket's face the entire time, watching, waiting, hungry for a reaction.
And oh boy, he got one.
A sharp, high-pitched breathy moan escaped Rocket's lips before he could bite it back. The sound surprised even Rocket himself, it hadn't been intentional, he'd swear.
Panicked, the rocketeer quickly clamped a hand over his mouth, a desperate attempt to stifle any further noise. And SFOTH, the sensation really was something else – his head felt fuzzy, heart pounding against his chest.
“Rocket,” Sword cooed, the name sweetly rolled off the tongue. Carefully, the swordsman set the rocket launcher aside on the concrete beside him. He lifted his hand and gently peeled Rocket's palm away from his mouth, fingers atop each other as Sword gingerly guided their hands upward – right until it rests on Sword's cheek.
“No one's here to listen,” Sword breathed, his tone above a whisper. The lobby was empty, and it felt like the world outside didn't exist right now – just them. “Don't be shy now, let me hear you.”
And with that, the distance between them closed in one swift motion. Rocket’s body moved on pure instinct, pressing his lips onto Sword's with fervor, hungry, like he'd been waiting for this all day. Sword sighed into the kiss, happy and content. He dropped the hand from his own face to curl around the waist of the other, pulling him flush against his chest. Meanwhile, the other hand slipped under Rocket's shirt, slowly hiking it up as they kissed.
They broke apart reluctantly – lips parting as the two were practically panting, chests rising and falling rapidly from the intensity of it all. Rocket's eyes were half-lidded; Sword's cheeks flushed pink.
Sword places his hand on Rocket’s shoulder, his thumb crossing over the hem of his top. Rocket yelped as Sword pulled on his top, revealing his shoulders to Sword’s thirsty eyes. He stares with astonishment and a primal hunger, his thumb running circles around the collarbone and shoulder. He leans in slowly, as if waiting for approval before plunging his lips into Rocket’s flesh. Rocket shuddered as Sword left a lingering suck on the shoulder.
He goes for another, this time closer to the neck. Rocket tilted his head back in pleasure, allowing Sword more room on his neck. He let out an ardent moan, feeling Sword's teeth graze against his neck. Rocket can feel his limbs losing their strength as blood rushes to his neck. Sword pulls away, leaving a string of drool connecting his lips and the blossoming red mark on Rocket.
As Sword peppered kisses on the marks he left behind, subtle, faint crackling can be heard sparking from Rocket's horns, a noticeable sign that he was close. So close to having enough charge points for his Phinisher.
Sword noticed the faint glow emanating from Rocket's horns. The soft luminescence gradually turned brighter, tiny white particles shimmering around it. Almost there. He can tell Rocket was close, it was nearly impossible to ignore for an inphernal like him. Sword saw this as an opportunity. Using this to his advantage, he reached for the rocket launcher laying beside him. His lips pressed firmly to its cool metal surface, lingering a bit too long on some areas.
Then he trailed lower. His mouth glided down to the base of Rocket's gear with deliberate slowness. Every touch sent Rocket's body quivering with pleasure. It was intoxicating, and Rocket couldn't get enough.
“Hhaa… k-keep going like that, pleasepleaseplease–” Rocket's voice came out shaky, his words tumbling in a rush, desperate to keep chasing that high only Sword could pull from him right now.
Who was Sword to deny such a request from his lovely partner?
His left hand moved to dip his hand slightly inside the muzzle, rubbing the interior while his mouth continued to lap at the side of the gear. Rocket held onto Sword, his face pressed against his shoulder as more and more sounds continued to spill out from his mouth.
108 points… 109 points… 110 points.
Rocket gasped, his voice trembling, “Ffuck, mnnf– 'm close..!!” The telltale crackle from the inphernal's horns, shining brightly than ever before. His Phinisher was finally ready. Rocket’s grip around Sword's shoulders tightened as he braced for release. “Tthe sky–! Ohhhfuck-, point it at the sky!!!” He could barely form words, too overwhelmed with adrenaline and pleasure searing through his body.
Sword lifted Rocket's gear with his right hand, adjusting the aim toward the setting sky where hues of orange and purple blend together. He double-checked the trajectory, making sure the both of them don't end up in the targeted range. “L–like this?” he asked, glancing towards Rocket for approval.
Rocket nodded fervently in his partner's shoulder, eyes squeezed shut in anticipation. Without hesitation, Sword pulled back on the trigger.
The rocket launcher unleashed the Grand Cannonade, the first wave of rockets rained down from above like falling stars before exploding once it reached the ground. Then came a second barrage, cascading the same as the last.
The cacophony of the rounds of explosions rang through their ears, shaking the ground and lighting up their eyes in flickering flashes of white and orange. Each detonation sent rounds of pleasure throughout Rocket's body, finally releasing the energy he'd been pent up for what felt like so long.
“Sssword…!!!” Rocket let out a guttural groan, his body shook as it all crashed down at once; his shoulders slumped forward as he leaned all his body weight towards Sword, completely spent. For several seconds, Rocket panted. His chest heaved as he desperately tried to catch his breath.
“Oh… Oh wow,” Were the only words Rocket could breathe out at this moment. “You came from that?”
“Urrghh. Shut up.”
“I don't think that was something you were capable of doing earlier.” Sword snickered, only to be met with a light smack on his upper arm.
Sword looked at the overcast painted in oranges. Time had slipped by faster than either of them had realized. With a quiet sigh, he pushed himself up and dusted off his pants.
“It's getting late… We should head back now, shall we?” Sword extended his hand, silently offering it to Rocket. As a metal hand connected with his, Sword hoisted him up – he helped Rocket regain his balance due to how unsteady his legs were.
The walk back to Rocket's place felt excruciatingly long. Sword tried holding on. He really did. The tightness in his pants were almost suffocating as his mind kept replaying the events from earlier; how Rocket looked when his lips parted, the way his eyebrows would furrow whenever Sword touched his gear just right. The memory of every noise he'd make when he tried to be quiet…—
Sword clenched his jaw. Now wasn't the time to be thinking about that stuff. He'll just quietly resolve this mess when he gets home, no big deal. The inphernal tried to focus on something else, anything else.
They stop outside Rocket's door. Sword clears his throat, saying something about how he needs to feed Sisyphus back home, ready to turn and leave.
“Do you… need help with that?”
An awkward pause. Sword's body stiffened almost instantly as the question hung in the air.
Rocket's voice was low, quiet and offering. His eyes momentarily flickered towards Sword's lower body before meeting his gaze again – leaving no doubt what the inphernal had meant.
Oh boy.