“Apologize for breaking my shit,” Rocket demanded.
Fuck.
You could feel it lowering in your shorts.
“Fuck you,” you spat. “You should apologize to me for refusing to give me a fucking chance.”
“Apologize before I do something we both regret,” Rocket warned again. “You think I haven’t noticed the shit you’ve been pulling, hm? The answer has always been no.”
Your eyes widened. Your hands dropped to your sides, your thumb rubbing against the side of your index finger. Moist. It glided in perfect circles from the liquid heat you had been accumulating on your palms. But that hadn’t been the only place it was invading.
“What?”
Ruined.
He hadn’t even muttered his answer before you felt your heart pound along the edges of your ribcage. Your gut churned. You wonder if that was bile you could feel traveling up your system.
“Oh, god,” he muttered. His eyes were invading every inch of your body, even if you were clothed you could feel them climb along the swell of your hips to the dip in your waist.
“Apologize,” he bade again, this time using your name.
Your dry lips trembled as they parted.
Of course there hadn’t been any other option in your mind. The way Rocket had been looking at you was almost exactly the same; furrowed brows, gritted teeth and wrinkles on his muzzle from the bubbling anger that never took long to spew out. But this time, you weren’t so sure it was anger anymore.
His fists uncurled, but not fully. They still assumed a position suitable for scratching.
His nails …
They were trimmed.
“Fuck …”
Your eyes traveled up to his own, and in them seethed rage, definitely.
But he looked away, for a brief moment, it was very very quick when his eyes shut for a moment and his head lowered.
You caught it.
“You,” you finished.
Your heart was still going strong, rattling against your rib cage screaming out out out out out. Its aortas hugged your lungs, making your breath hitch.
