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The problem with fucking your boss is that it tends to cause unrest in the ranks. Understandable, really. Couldn’t have crew go getting ideas about ‘favoritism’ or ‘fucking one’s way to the top.’ Bad for business and crew morale all around.
It made sense then, why Yondu made it clear before they’d started doing this that some mutual good times between them better not give Kraglin any ideas. His nonchalant little speech might have been tad overemphatic about how it didn’t really mean nothing, and Kraglin better not go expecting things around the ship to change.
But, clear enough. Kraglin had got where he was by being damn good at his job. He wouldn’t be any happier than Yondu about having to watch his back more than usual for a begrudging knife. Lucky for him, he’s got the constitution of an particularly obstinate orloni so there isn’t much poison-wise that do more than give him a rather bad case of gas.
The thing is, for all his dark scowling and pointed nudges, Yondu doesn’t seem to actually be following his own rules.
“Do you… need something, sir?”
Kraglin inches sideways, perturbed when Yondu widens his stance enough that the difference is negligible. His hand wavers minutely where it’s balancing one of his sharp little pigstickers of an Arapian throwing knife.
When Yondu had sauntered into the weapons range barely ten minutes after Kraglin had, he’d chalked it up to coincidence. There’s a limited amount of activities to pass the time between jobs after all. The way he’d settled himself right next to Kraglin though, was harder to explain.
“Nope,” Yondu’s tone is blithely cheerful. He ignores the way the way the roped muscles of his arm jab into Kraglin’s personal space as he lifts his blaster towards Kraglin’s target.
“If you want this target, I c’n move,” Kraglin lowers his hand and shuffles a couple steps backwards.
“Don’t matter to me none, target’s big enough we could both aim, ’n make it a contest.” Yondu’s grin is all jagged metal teeth and taunting. Kraglin’s blood starts twisting hot at the sight of it, blue flushing his cheeks.
“My knife against your blaster huh? Don’t seem fair sir,” Kraglin bites the corner of his lip, shifts the knife back into the seat of his palm.
“Awww, think you could put up at least a little fight,” Yondu drawls back, but Kraglin shakes his, quirks his eyebrows in challenge as he says, “Not fair t‘you.”
Yondu blinks.
“Oh it’s on, boy,” his voice drops to a growl as they square off and turn towards the target.
When they end up making out frantically in the storage room closet, Kraglin’s rather not surprised.
Somehow though, it keeps being a thing. Wherever Kraglin’s spending his time? Is inevitably where Yondu ends up spending his.
“Oh, Salerina, how could you?” On the holopad screen a slender, silk and velvet clad teenager throws a theatrical hand over her eyes. Collapsing with appropriate dramatics on the suspiciously well-placed cushions, her lover kneels at her side with wide, beseeching eyes.
“Oh, no, my darling, it wasn’t what it looked like!”
Kraglin’s rapt attention to his favorite serial is broken by a thump on the lounge seat next to him. He looks up startled to see Yondu casually sprawled over half the couch as he thumbs through a holopad of his own. When Yondu ignores him, Kraglin shakes off his confusion and turns back to the drama on screen.
A few minutes later though, his focus is broken again by the heavy thump of two chunky blue calves onto his lap. Kraglin blinks, squints at Yondu out of the corner of his eye. Yondu’s head is propped up by the arm of the seat, and he’s still studiously scrolling on his datapad.
Kraglin looks down, cocks his head and then pokes at one of Yondu’s knees.
“What.” Yondu looks up from his pad to scowl at Kraglin. “Thissis my spot. Be glad I don’t kick ya off.”
His spot…? This is first time Kraglin’s ever seen him in this particular rec room. The quirk of Yondu’s lips though is dangerously downturned. Kraglin wisely decides to keep any such comments to himself.
Watch is passing slowly, tediously, which is a good thing honestly. Just because it makes Kraglin want to tear his hair out, doesn’t mean a smooth watch isn’t better than the alternative. Technically as first mate he doesn’t have to be on the general crew watch rota. But Kraglin’s stuck obstinately to the notion that just because he’s got rank don’t mean he should get in the habit of letting junior crew shoulder all the burden.
The stars wheel past slowly outside the bridge screen, one edge bookended by the closest nebular region. It’s mesmerizing, a red and blue phantasm of some celestial being billowing across the sky. Kraglin’s startled out of his trance by the creak of leathers as the bridge doors slide silently open.
It’s Yondu, wearing only a loose sleep black sleep top and bottoms yawning wide enough as he pads to the bench where Kraglin sits that every yellowed and metal-capped tooth is visible. What in the stars is Yondu doing here?
There’s no problem that would require his attention, no calls on the comm that would warrant the captain being pulled from his rest. Maybe he’d been struck by a bout of insomnia? It wasn’t common, nightmares being the more regular flavor Yondu’s sleep disturbances seemed to come in, but Kraglin couldn’t think of anything else that’d explain his unexpected presence.
Yondu nods at him as he plonks himself on the bench, and Kraglin nods back. The silence on the bridge is broken only by the faint humming of the control instruments, the low purr of the engines. They sit together, staring out at the stars. Yondu ends up drowsing slumped against Kraglin’s side, and something tender and fluttering swims contented in Kraglin’s chest when he looks down at his scarred-up face.
More and more, Kraglin can’t turn around without running into Yondu. Not just when they’re on shift and working together as would’ve been normal, but in his off time, when he’s pulling night shifts or eating chow. Rumors start idly passing amongst the crew, but surprisingly there’s much less resentment than Kraglin expected.
There’s a few outliers, of course there would be in a crew this size, but the fact they can be counted on one hand makes Kraglin relax minutely. Thing is, Yondu was the one who said this didn’t mean anything, so Kraglin’s not sure what to think when he inevitably ends up half draped over Kraglin or monopolizing his free time.
It’s been the day from hell, and Kraglin’s splayed limply on top of his rickety metal bed. Perks of being first mate, that he’s got his own room. He’s already had to deal with enough people today thank you very much. The last thing he wants is to have to handle with any more noise and incompetence in his off time.
Just as he starting to drop off though, there’s the whine and swoosh of the automatic doors, and in stalks Yondu.
Kraglin groans silently as he pushes himself up on his elbows.
“Did I forgot something, I thought I got everything taken care of at turnover –“
“Shaddup,” Yondu grunts out cantankerously as he strips off his shirt, and before Kraglin can say another word he’s flopped himself on top of him. Kraglin lets out a surprised wheeze as two hundred-odd pounds of muscly blue captain settle grumpily over his skinny frame.
“Sir…” he ekes out from where his face is half smothered in Yondu’s sweaty shoulder. Yondu doesn’t say anything thought, just heaves a creaking sigh and worms his arms up under Kraglin’s shoulders. His hands start kneading gently, one and then the other at the jut of Kraglin’s shoulders.
Kraglin blinks. Well then. He waits a beat to see if there’s something else Yondu means to say or do. There’s nothing but the sound of Yondu breathing slow and heavy into the crook of Kraglin’s neck. The repetitive massage of Yondu’s hands on his back is lulling, soothing, and soon his already heavy eyes are drooping closed.
When Kraglin wakes up, his shoulder is damp from where Yondu’s burbling wet snores into it, and his back is cramped from being held immobile all night. He brings a drowsy hand up to pat gently at Yondu’s back.
“Sir…?” When the patting fails to do more then make Yondu flop his head to the other side, Kraglin starts to rub along his spine. Well, he supposes it’s not like they really need to get up. Thankfully today’s their off cycle, and theoretically they could spend the whole day in bed if that was their druthers.
He shifts a little, breath speeding up at the thought. His cock is tucked right in the crook of Yondu’s hip, and with each little squirming movement Kraglin makes it starts to harden. The feel of it makes his lips part, pulse thudding in his throat. His hands coming up to clutch at Yondu’s shoulders as he struggles to keep himself from grinding up into him,
“Gonna keep teasing, or are you gonna fuck me?”
Kraglin shudders in startlement at Yondu’s rough voice, tone sleepily imperious. It makes Kraglin let out a juddering little moan, and rut his hips up hard.
“Yeah, c’mon boy, I c’n feel you rubbing up on me,” Yondu’s pulling his hands out from under Kraglin to help him work their pants down, “want you in me, filling me up,”
Then Yondu’s spreading legs so his knees are on either side of Kraglin’s hips, levers himself up enough he can can sink down on Kraglin with a satisfied sigh.
“Ah-hh, please,” Kraglin’s head thunks back hard against the bed, eyes squeezing shut as his hands clutch at Yondu’s waist.
“Like this?” Yondu’s pinning Kraglin’s shoulder’s down, smirking at him as he rolls his hips slowly, lifting up and then grinding down in lazy circles. “Like waking up to me on top of you, how I feel taking you deep?”
Kraglin whines, claws up Yondu’s ribs to settle on his sides, tries to fuck his hips up faster but Yondu just pins him down firm.
“Gonna let me fuck you, boy,” he husks out, “keep you hard for me, long as I want.”
It’s heady, dizzying, when Yondu gets like this and Kraglin melts into the bed, lets Yondu ride him. He trembles a little with the effort it takes to control himself but he doesn’t move.
Time blurs into a wavering images of the greedy pleasure on Yondu’s face, the way he feels every time he slides down and settles in the bony grooves of Kraglin’s hips, the smell of skin and sex. Yondu rides him until he’s shaking, nails biting ribbon-thin blue dents into Yondu’s skin.
“Yeah, almost there,” Yondu moves faster now, shifts his weight half off Kraglin to grab his hand and move it to his cock, “c'mon, wanna feel you coming for me.”
Kraglin’s hand is clumsy, rough as he works Yondu, vision sliding double as Yondu shudders apart around him. It pulls Kraglin along too, and Yondu collapse forward in a fucked-out, satisfied puddle, grounding him through it.
Afterwards Kraglin pets fuzzily at Yondu’s sweat-slicked skin, noses into his scalp. It takes a minute before he notices that he’s feeling more than the normal vibration that comes with being on a ship with engines as old and persnickety as the Eclector’s.
In fact, the vibration isn’t coming from underneath him at all – it’s coming from Yondu. There’s a low steady rumble waving out from Yondu’s chest, and Kraglin realizes with a start that Yondu’s purring. Kraglin didn’t even know Yondu’s species could do that.
He lifts his head, opens his mouth, says “Um–“ but then Yondu’s nose wrinkles and he thunks his head against Kraglin’s shoulder.
“Shhhhhh, sleep now,” he grumbles and Kraglin relaxes, softens happily as he settles back down. This may be new, but he’s been with enough different varieties of humanoids he knows what this means. Purring’s not something a body does just because – it’s something for feeling safe, and warm, and content.
Kraglin’s chest goes a little wobbly and warm at the thought, and he closes his eyes. He still doesn’t know exactly what this thing between them means, knows maybe Yondu might never really be able to tell him with words. But this here, the two of them cocooned together… it’s good.