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Three years is a long time. It’s only been months since Ryland Grace has been at this life-in-space thing (well, at least consciously), so yeah, three more years is a little daunting.
Beats the four year solo journey to Earth, though. At least he has a travel buddy.
He’d been a little worried that without a problem to fix or mission to work on together (besides making it to Erid in one piece) that he and Rocky might grow more distant; they’re different species after all, and about to have a whole lot of down time.
It’d been a silly concern. Grace is a scientist, for crying out loud. Every day is like its own novel experiment, every conversation and interaction worth ten lifetimes of research. How could he ever get bored of rooming with an alien?
But that’s it, too; the more time they spend together, falling into a quieter routine, the less he even sees Rocky as alien at all. He’s just…Rocky.
“Grace no breakfast, question?”
“Nah, man. Thought I’d change my diet. Some intermittent fasting.”
A pause. “Rocky no understand.”
“Human joke. Sorry, rude habit. I’m just not hungry.”
The truth is he’s been thinking a whole lot about food, especially since he knows he’s going to run out before they make it to Erid. And yeah, now he knows that Taumoeba is an option so he won’t flat out starve before then, but three years of tasteless organisms farmed in their ship with a side of coma slurry is pretty bleak. He needs to ration some of the good stuff.
“Grace always want food.”
Dang, that would be a sick burn if they were on Earth. “Rock, I would love to eat the ship’s space burritos and ramen until they’re gone, but I might want to spread them out. Was thinking I should save them for special occasions.”
“Rocky does not understand.”
“Like…for a celebration? Party?”
“Grace and Rocky no celebrate until Erid. Not until star saved.”
Grace runs a hand through his hair and sighs out a laugh. As frustrating as it can be, he loves the blunt honesty. “It’s nice to have something to look forward to. Three years might not seem like much to you, but it is for me. We could, I dunno, celebrate our birthdays?”
Rocky scuttles around a bit, gathering tools for whatever he plans to tinker with later on. “Why, question?”
“I guess it’s another human thing. We have parties and give presents to people every year on the day they were born. It makes them feel, you know. Cared for.”
If Rocky had eyes to roll, he would. “Humans are so self-involved.”
“Come on! It’s fun.”
“Tell me what I do on Grace’s birth-day,” he starts, and Grace can already tell he’s about to be mocked. “Call him special, feed snacks, wave fan over fragile human body, question?”
“Sounds great,” he answers sarcastically, finally getting out of bed.
“Great, great, great.” Rocky’s teasing him, which isn’t exactly new, but he’s sure gotten better at it.
Back on Earth that kind of thing would drive him nuts. Grace hated when people pointed out his oddness (obsessed with science, a bit of a loner, socially awkward). As a kid he was bullied, in academia he was laughed out of his field…but there’s something about the way Rocky gives him a hard time that actually feels kind.
He’s curious, not competitive. It’s more about pushing his boundaries, playfully prodding just to let Grace know he thinks about him enough to tease him at all. It’s nice.
A robot arm delivers a coffee, which Grace is decidedly not rationing. He doesn’t know how much is left, but it’s probably the only thing regulating his body to recognize the start of each day while in space.
He throws on his sweater and heads down to the lab to check out the Taumoeba tanks (now housed in safer containers). As long as they can keep these babies growing, they’re on track to save Rocky’s home planet and keep Grace fed at the same time.
Another Rocky suggestion, he thinks; dude might like to rib him a little, but he’s always looking out for him.
“What are you working on, anyway?” He asks, the coffee perking him up just enough to get out of his head. Rocky’s got a handful of large cylinders in front of him, each with a different flared shape at the top.
“Design for Taumoeba canisters,” he explains, turning one over between his claws, feeling and hearing its shape. “Testing aerodynamics for dropping off at Erid sun.”
They’re years from that drop off point. Guess Rocky isn’t one for procrastination, but Grace probably should have known that.
“Getting a head start, I see.”
“Needs to be perfect,” he says, and makes a sound that trills softly in a way that Grace hasn’t heard before.
He takes a sip of coffee, stepping closer to look, shoving his free hand in the pocket of his pants.
“Plenty of time to make it work,” he assures. The models are detailed, each one not just unique in the shape of its cone at the top, but the mechanics in general. One seems to retract from the middle, with space inside for vials or tubes of Taumoeba. Another has individual compartments dappling the outside like seeds on a strawberry, which likely snap open through some mechanism Rocky’s devised. He’s trying to build the fastest, most efficient vessel to shoot at the petrova line with the easiest release method to set their predator loose on the astrophage.
Grace realizes he’s forgotten his coffee, gaze sweeping over Rocky’s work. “I can’t believe you can just think these up and build them.”
“Grace do science, Rocky make things.”
It’s become a familiar dynamic, but still. Something warm and satisfying takes up residence between his ribs at the thought of finding such a compatible partner.
In…work. Obviously. Planet, star-saving mission partners and intergalactic besties.
The warmth spreads, curling its way around his bones and insides. Rocky keeps on working, his two front claws deftly spinning threads of xenonite into his newest prototype.
“Why does it have to be so perfect now, Rock?”
He finally stops, tilting his carapace in a way that reminds Grace of a human with a hand on their hip, clearly disappointed by the question.
“Grace live,” he replies plainly.
Grace freezes, trying to sort out the connection here. “Yeah? I know, pal. We’ll make it there no matter how many pounds of microbes from Adrian I have to choke down.”
“No,” Rocky argues. He puts down his work to face him fully, even though Grace knows he can’t see him. The shift pins him in place anyway. “Drop off at Erid sun is last big risk. Grace leaving ship to throw Taumoeba — dangerous. Rocky will make sure there are fewer chances for mistakes so Grace will live.”
“Oh,” he supplies weakly. Jeez. Grace kind of figured attempting survival on the boiling alien planet filled with ammonia might be the bigger risk, but he has a point.
By now they’ve both saved each others’ lives more than once, so it shouldn’t be that surprising the way Rocky’s grown a bit protective. Still, the care, the attention…and coupled with that teasing tone one might even mistake for flirtation if he were human…
Grace swallows thickly, trying to ignore the way heat blooms in his cheeks. Huh.
***
“What should I expect when we get to Erid?” Grace asks one night, laying in bed. His brain thinks it’s night anyway.
He doesn’t know why he’s asking, except for the fact that he’s got a lot of time to live in anticipation.
“Eridians build Grace a safe home. No worry.”
He doesn’t doubt it. But that’s not what he means.
“But what will I do? What will you do? Day to day?”
For all their talk about biology and language, Grace knows startlingly little about Eridian society. It sounds like it functions with far less conflict than most human societies — their helplessness during sleep meant they evolved into a deeply social and compassionate species. Rocky assures him they’re not perfect, but it’s incumbent upon them to make sure everyone is cared for. Grace wonders what the implications are for work, government, the economy, education.
He asks as much, but Rocky’s answers don’t always translate. Guess it might be one of those things where you have to see for yourself. Grace thinks Rocky works for the government, whatever that means, as an engineer; hence him being chosen for the mission.
“What do Eridians do for fun?” He asks, figuring he can parse through the more detailed particulars another time.
“Enjoy music, dancing, storytelling, perform…”
Makes sense, them being so dependent on sound. He hopes he gets a chance to hear some more Eridian art.
“And where do you live? Is it like…a house, or…?”
“Don’t understand.”
They go back and forth after that, plugging some more words into the laptop as they sort out the different terms for buildings and dwellings. It gives Grace a better sense of the atmosphere and weather and material life on Erid, aspects of Rocky’s world he still can’t even picture.
“And you dwell with —“
“Adrian,” he supplies happily, performing that long sing-songy stretch of notes for their name. “Unless they found new mate.”
“Right,” Grace answers, considering this. He knows Eridians mate for life, not unlike humans in many cases, and that they produce offspring. “And you spend a lot of time together.”
“Yes, of course. Best friend, like Grace.”
That — that’s not what he’d expected. Grace’s stomach does a complicated bit of acrobatics, insides scrambled up like they’re floating in zero g. He’s somehow flattered and deeply, deeply thrown all at once.
“Oh. Cool. I uh, look forward to meeting them.”
“Adrian love science, just like Grace. Will be so excited to meet!”
Grace continues to wither away at that. It’ll be nice to meet Rocky’s mate, it’s just…he and Rocky have already been through so much together. Plus there’s still years ahead on this ship; they’re only going to become more bonded.
It doesn’t seem fair that he’ll have to give that up for someone else. Grace knows this is selfish, but he did sacrifice his life on earth to save Rocky. Sure he’s been with Adrian for nearly 200 years, but bonding over interstellar star and planet saving pursuits have to be extenuating circumstances, don’t they? Besides, who the heck else will Grace even know on this foreign planet?
“Just promise you won’t abandon me, pal. I don’t want to get too lonely.”
“Rocky would never abandon best friend,” he argues firmly.
“Yeah, well, I get that you already have a mate. On Earth that’s pretty much your person, above everyone else. You have families and look out for their well-being, and…pleasure.”
Jeez, why did he bring that up? Stupid human impulses.
Rocky’s quiet for a while, to the point where Grace almost considers heading down to mess around in the lab just to hide. And then he finally hears him stop working.
“Grace is…word Rocky don’t know.”
His cheeks are aflame, and he knows Rocky can’t see it, but he’s certain he can hear his heart thumping hard in his chest.
“I’m fine.”
“Grace wish he was in Adrian place?”
Uggggghhhh. He plugs the word into the laptop: jealous.
Rocky nods at him, a signal that he understands, one of those human quirks he’s picked up on.
“Mates on Erid not like humans,” he tries to explain. “Friendship, partners, produce offspring. Not a bond of pleasure.”
Interesting. If he’s reading this right, Eridian mates aren’t exactly romantic. Or at least the preference for their mates seems fairly platonic.
Grace hates the sigh of relief he lets go. This doesn’t really change his predicament; he’s still looking at life on Erid as the weird leaky alien and likely Rocky and Adrian’s pathetic third wheel. But for some reason he’s satisfied knowing that maybe Rocky sees him as a different kind of best friend. He’s not going to let his self-involved human brain say better. He’s not.
And on that note he’s not going to fixate on Rocky’s definition of pleasure here. He’s probably thinking of something else altogether.
Well, Grace knows what he meant when describing human mating. Sex. He meant sex. But he isn’t sure that’s a thing for Eridians, let alone between mates.
And why is he even thinking about this? That’s Rocky’s business, and besides, he’s never been one who needs that kind of thing. Like — he enjoys it when it works out, but only when it’s the right person at the right time. He could probably do without. He’s going to have to do without, maybe for the rest of his life.
And that’s fine.
***
It would be fine, anyway, if all this talk of mates and jealousy hadn’t wormed their way into Grace’s psyche like a fresh batch of Taumoeba into the fuel.
Dang, okay, maybe too soon for that analogy.
Anyway, the point is that it only takes one night of sleep to get his mind and apparently his libido going, because when he wakes up next it’s in the unfortunate position of grinding his hips down into the mattress of his bunk, a pathetic groan slurring against his pillow. It’s fuzzy at first, nothing but that mindless chase for any bit of friction, deep breaths filling his lungs as his brain comes back online.
And then realization sets in, because these days he never sleeps without an audience.
Grace freezes, trying like heck to quiet his desperate gasps for air, blinking his eyes open toward the wall.
“Grace, Grace, Grace!” Rocky shouts in distress. “Grace okay, question? Nightmare, question?”
They’d talked about dreams at some point; Rocky dreams too, interestingly enough, though usually more realistic than the wild journeys humans sometimes get.
“Yeah,” Grace sighs, dick still painfully hard. It’s been awhile since he’s felt that…pre coma. Woof.
“Grace was loud, moving in bed,” Rocky reports.
“Uh, yeah,” Grace agrees. He can’t roll over and reveal his hard on — Rocky won’t have any context, but it’s still too mortifying. “Just a human thing.”
“Explain.”
Oh my god. Well, he’s not a teacher or a scientist for his health. He’s Dr. Ryland Grace, isn’t he? He can be objective and scientific and give his good pal Rocky the rundown on sexual arousal. No big deal.
Except, of course, this only started because Rocky got in his head, flirting (?) and talking about mates and jealousy and maybe driving his human buddy a little insane with mixed signals.
Rocky isn’t human. He isn’t thinking about any of this the same.
“Right. Fine.” Grace rolls onto his back, the sheets tenting comically over his dick which is still at full attention. “We talked about human reproduction, and human pleasure and all that. Sometimes it’s just…I dunno, the pleasure part? Without reproducing at all. We can make ourselves feel good or our mates feel good, or even just other humans… I guess being mates isn’t technically required, though I’m a fan…” He’s rambling, obviously. None of this is coming out particularly scientific.
“So this is how Grace reproduce, question?” Rocky asks curiously.
“Theoretically, yes,” he confirms. “But, I mean. Obviously that’s not what’s happening right now.”
“What cause arousal, then, question?”
Grace laughs. He just doesn’t know what else to do at this point. “Maybe my dream.”
“Nightmare? Question?” Rocky’s disturbed by this, and honestly, fair.
“Sometimes we don’t know what we dream about. We don’t remember them all. Maybe it wasn’t my dream. I dunno, Rock. It’ll go away.”
Rocky trills to himself, a long string of notes Grace doesn’t recognize.
“How can Rocky help?”
Grace coughs, then laughs, then nearly chokes on his tongue. “What?”
“Rocky wants to help Grace feel pleasure, body wants pleasure.”
“No, no — that’s okay.” Is it okay? Wait, why is that so hot?
“Explain.”
Right. Yeah. He can explain. Not as though Rocky is going to like, get him off. Ha. No.
“Yeah, so, just for science, yeah?” He squirms in bed, wishing he could take care of this himself without Rocky’s prying presence. “Well, for me, personally, I have two options. I can stimulate my, uh…reproductive organ…”
“Penis,” Rocky supplies.
Jesus Christ. He sighs. “Right. Or my prostate.”
Rocky hums and sings and clicks thoughtfully. “Both options bring pleasure, question?”
“Yeah,” he huffs, the interrogation doing nothing to help his current state. If anything Rocky’s oddly detached interest is only turning him on more.
“Grace touch himself for pleasure, question?”
“Sometimes,” he admits. “A lot more before I was in a four year coma and trying to save my planet.”
“And with mate,” he adds. It’s not a question. Grace knows he mentioned Marie to Rocky — his last serious attempt at a relationship. He didn’t bring up Sarah, though, or Jake for that matter.
“Yeah,” he answers, hearing how reedy and thin his voice sounds. His hand wanders beneath the sheets absently, stopping just shy of his dick.
“Do now,” Rocky orders gently.
“Huh?” Grace snaps out of it, eyes darting toward the xenonite barrier where Rocky stands, facing him.
“Want to see, so Rocky can help.”
“No, buddy,” he tries to argue. “This is private. Human thing.”
“You said you do with mate,” he points out.
“You aren’t my mate.”
The quiet after that is awkward. Something’s off — it’s evident there’s not just a language barrier, but a cultural one they haven’t sorted through. And it’s all mixed up in their different conceptions of friendship and mates and sex and pleasure and whatever else they’ve been yapping about.
“Fine,” he gives in, “but do you have to stand there watching?”
“Rocky would like to.”
Grace laughs, breathy and exhausted. You win, Rock. He finally tosses the sheet aside, slides his pants down below his hips and takes himself in hand, gasping out a shaky exhale at the first real brush of contact.
“Mmm,” he hums, shifting his position slightly, bending his knees and spreading his legs.
“Grace better?”
“Getting there,” he confirms, closing his eyes tight and properly stroking himself. He wonders if there’s anything he could use for lube somewhere down in the lab; they might even have lube, or petroleum jelly at the very least. It’s not like he’s getting up now, though.
Wow that feels good; he tightens his fist, sliding up and down his shaft, swiping his thumb beneath the head of his dick where he’s always been especially sensitive. He shivers, lifting his hips on instinct.
It’s been a long time. Grace can tell this is gonna be quick, which all things considered, is probably for the best. He speeds up, precome and just a little sweat providing a better, slicker sensation.
“Fu—” he almost curses, but swallows it down instead, wrist snapping fast and determined. He’s hot all over, moisture beading at his temples, muscles drawing tight and a familiar pressure building in his hips.
He almost forgets Rocky’s still here, until he hears him talking in Eridian, a rich and full set of notes that seem to roll right through him unbidden.
“What?” Grace asks, distracted as he chases after his first orgasm in over four years.
“Grace pleasure is beautiful,” Rocky chimes reverently.
Grace’s eyes fly open, darting to find Rocky, who’s practically smooshed against the wall of his barrier taking in everything that’s happening.
What the heck, why is this working for him? Grace has never been one for voyeurism; he could barely even pull off phone sex back on Earth.
“Oh god,” he murmurs, folding forward as he comes, gasping for breath, still watching Rocky. It’s a rush, and to be honest he isn’t thinking all that straight, but still he looks, gathering data on Rocky’s reactions, trying to hypothesize through his sex-addled brain.
He comes up with nothing; just a sticky mess in his bunk and his space partner likely waiting for him to explain what just happened.
“Good, question?” Rocky asks tentatively.
Grace laughs again, still catching his breath, and throws an arm over his face. What the hell was that?
“Good. Very good.”
***
The next few wakeups are less…eventful. On the whole Grace is happy for it. He and Rocky slide back into the routine they’d been crafting together. Most days that means checking in on the state of the ship, keeping tabs on the safety of their fuel. It means forcing down his less-than-appetizing food options and exchanging stories and questions about life on their respective planets. Rocky could honestly go on forever, but Grace’s human brain needs rest sometimes, so he’s also instituted a “quiet hour” where he gets some time to read or escape reality by watching some film or television show on his laptop.
It takes some effort, but Grace tries to forget his anxieties about Erid; at least the ones that stem from his fears of losing Rocky. He doesn’t need to feed that kind of tension when they’ve got a perfectly good thing going right here and now.
Of course, that doesn’t mean a thing to Rocky. He apparently has his own plans that reel Grace right back into very dangerous territory.
“Rocky make something for Grace,” he informs him one night just as Grace is preparing for bed.
“Aw, thanks pal,” he says absently, tucking away his hygiene kit. He’s not unfamiliar with Rocky’s creations, especially for communication.
The airlock Rocky built hisses from the atmosphere change as he sends his gift over, so Grace shuffles his way over to grab it.
“What do we have here?” He asks, turning it over. It’s a rod of some sort, tapered with smooth curves at each end; the whole surface is smooth, not unlike the transparent xenonite walls Rocky’s built for himself throughout the ship.
“For Grace to use for pleasure.”
Grace freezes, vision temporarily whiting out. Did…did Rocky build him a sex toy?
“Um, thanks,” he offers once he can feel his face again and tries to play it cool. “You shouldn’t have.”
“Other form of stimulation,” Rocky explains.
“Oh, yup, I get it,” he nods quickly. “I can definitely see that now.”
“Will work, question?”
Grace is absolutely not about to stick this thing up his ass in front of Rocky. He won’t do it. There’s got to be a line, even if the gesture is making him sweat a little.
Again, he tries to act casual, despite the monumental spiral he’s actually dealing with internally. He even tosses the dildo up in the air and catches it to prove how chill he is about the whole thing.
“Yeah, yeah. Would probably work. I’m gonna go ahead and put it away in my bag for now. For safekeeping.”
“Grace don’t want to try, question?”
“Kind of have to be in the mood for something like that,” he answers, hurrying to get into bed and put an end to the conversation. Unfortunately, the mood is increasingly rearing its head, and he’s pretty sure Rocky knows it.
“Grace should try, will feel good after pleasure again.”
Kind of tough to argue with that logic. He almost does, too, armed with the same old “it’s private” or “just for mates,” but Grace hasn’t a leg to stand on after the last time. And god help him, he wants to use it. He hasn’t been penetrated, solo or otherwise, in ages. And as much as he hates to admit it, he likes that Rocky wants to watch him squirm again.
He should probably look at that one a little more closely.
“Fine. Okay. Let’s give it a try.” Grace hurries to search the lab, and finds some silicon lubricant mixed in with other supplies for maintaining the lab equipment. Bingo.
“Why need this, question?” Rocky asks once he returns and flops onto his bunk.
“Okay, well. It’ll move inside me better. In general it feels good to have for you know…stimulating both parts.”
“Understood,” Rocky notes. “Weak human, soft body.”
“You know, it’s not helping your cause when you make fun of my humanness,” he shoots back, reaching into his pants to take himself in hand.
“Fragile emotions also,” he adds, making his way closer to the barrier next to Grace’s bunk.
The dry skin of his palm isn’t ideal, but he kind of wants to save the lube. Either way it’s working, tight grip and slow pulls along his shaft getting him going.
“You’re one to talk. Seem to remember you making those Taumoeba dispensers years in advance just because you’re worried about me.”
Maybe that’s unfair to throw back at him, but Rocky started it.
“Don’t want Grace to die. Rocky explain this already. Care for Grace.”
Grace huffs out a nervous laugh. “Of course you do.”
“Can Grace explain what happens during stimulation, question?”
“Yeah, okay,” he breathes heavily, slowing his wrist and readjusting his position. He stuffs a couple pillows between his back and the wall behind him, sitting up halfway, kicking his pants off entirely before pausing. Rocky must sense his hesitation.
“What now, question? What Grace doing now, question?”
He spreads his legs, earning some musical clicks from his inquisitive friend, feeling a little too pleased by the encouragement.
“I need to stretch myself open,” he tries to explain as nonchalantly as possible, dribbling some of the lube onto his fingers. “Right now it would probably hurt too much without.”
Rocky trills with concern, unfamiliar, frantic sounds. “Rocky make badly and hurt Grace!”
Oh man, why is that making Grace’s chest go all tight?
“No pal, it’s completely normal. Even when I’m doing this myself or with some other guy, you need to prep.”
Rocky’s quiet, so he takes the opportunity to press a couple fingers to his rim. Holy moly it feels nice, a zing of pleasure shooting through him with such force his knees drop right down to the mattress.
He tries to recoup, lifting one knee, properly entering himself with one digit up to the first knuckle.
“Other guy, question?” Rocky finally asks.
“Mmmhmm,” Grace groans, pressing deeper. “Yeah, I told you. I’m attracted to humans of all genders.”
“Yes, Grace mentioned this.” He pauses, and then adds, “Rocky is…jealous.”
Grace pulls out his finger and turns to face him. “What? Why?”
“Grace feel pleasure from different humans! Rocky wishes he was in their place!”
In their place???
“I mean, it’s not just any humans,” he feels the strange need to correct. “For me, I have to really, really like them to do something like this. And feel liked.”
“Rocky really, really like Grace.”
Grace tries to swallow, but his throat is dry, and for some reason asking the Mary’s computer to bring him water while he’s got his legs wide and hole on display just feels wrong.
Does Rocky even know what he’s saying?
Of course he does, Grace thinks. Rocky’s self-assured and brilliant. Really, the question is does Grace know what Rocky’s saying?
“Explain,” he manages to ask, the tables turned.
“Rocky knows he is not human, but still want to help Grace feel pleasure like past mates.”
He’s tried to ignore his suspicions, because it just feels a little too out there, but Grace knows Rocky cares for him, loves his company, teases him playfully…
Honestly though, how out there can it really be for Rocky to feel something romantic (?!) when Grace himself is half-naked demonstrating how he likes to get off? Whatever this is, it's more than just a normal friendship for both of them, that’s for sure.
But man, is he really attracted to an alien? One who has no face and kind of looks like a spider? How is that possible?
Not an alien, his brain provides. Rocky. And yeah maybe at first the whole look he’s got going on seemed new and frightening, but now Grace just knows that’s him. Rocky wouldn’t be Rocky if he wasn’t so attuned to sound or deft with his claws. He wouldn’t be him if he didn’t speak a language that sounds like music, or move around so strongly and capably despite a body that weighs hundreds of pounds even in space.
“You want to make me feel good like one of my mates would,” he eventually answers, trying to clarify.
“Yes.”
“Because you really, really like me. Like a mate.”
“Like human mate,” Rocky corrects.
Oookay then. They’re doing this. Or doing something.
“Got it,” he answers, reapplying the lube to his fingers and settling back in. “And for the record, I like you a lot too.”
Rocky chirps and sings and moves as close as he can to the barrier, pressing a claw to the surface. Grace meets him there with his free hand; this isn’t their usual fist bump, but something gentler, more intimate. Wow.
He wants to feel more, so he rubs a thumb where they meet, the sheer warmth of Rocky’s body seeping right through to his skin.
“Wish I could touch you,” he hears himself saying.
“Yes,” Rocky agrees. “Maybe build better suits. For now, Grace touch self.”
“Bossy,” he laughs, as though he doesn’t find that insanely arousing, and withdraws his hand. “And to be clear, what would Adrian think about all this? I don’t wanna be some home wrecker.”
“What this mean, question?”
“If our…arrangement here is bad for your relationship with Adrian. I don’t want to cause that.”
“Relationship different. Adrian not jealous of Grace.”
“If you say so.” He slips his finger deeper inside, sliding in and out while he grips the xenonite dildo with his other hand.
“Grace feel pleasure yet, question?”
“Yeah, just gonna add another finger,” he gasps softly. Grace fingers himself fast, probably too quickly for how long it’s been, but he really wants to get this thing inside of him. If he can’t have Rocky in the flesh, some piece of his world made specifically for Grace feels like the next best thing.
Holy heck, where did that thought come from? He lubes up the toy to focus, bringing it between his legs and slowly pressing inside.
“Yes, yes, yes!” Rocky responds excitedly, apparently enjoying the show. The toy is smooth but solid, not much give. Still, it’s filling him up, and starting to feel pretty darn amaze, he has to admit.
“You did good, Rock,” he tells him, experimenting with the way it feels, gently bearing down with his hips. “Excellent craftsmanship.”
It’s only vaguely reminiscent of doing this in the before times, unearthing memories of other partners. Grace sets a steady pace with the toy and tries to channel what he can remember, what felt good with someone else. He slides his free hand down his thigh, grabbing at the meat of the flesh there, imagining that it’s someone else’s body, or maybe someone else’s hand that’s teasing at the crease between his thigh and leaking cock. The hand flies up to pull his hair — he thinks he must have liked that, the way a fresh ball of heat seems to bloom and burn low in his belly. Well, he clearly likes it now.
The slick slide of the dildo lets him move deeper until Grace finally hits what he’s been looking for. He gasps at how good it feels, choking for air, arching his back wildly before going back for more.
“Grace hurt, question?” The voice sounds far away, cloudy and garbled, but enough of Rocky’s concern cuts through.
“No, no, very much the opposite,” he assures. He drags his hand from his hair down his face, fingernails running through his stubble, all the way to his chest. He finds a nipple and starts to roll it between his fingers, and yikes, somehow that’s even better.
“Why Grace do this, question?”
“I dunno, Rock, it just feels really good,” he explains uselessly. Rocky notices.
“Grace get real stupid when aroused,” he observes. “Like hasn’t slept. Can’t even give scientific explanation.”
Grace pinches his nipple harder, twisting it while he moves the dildo inside him, brushing against his prostate. “Science is quite literally the last thing on my mind right now.”
“Tell Rocky more what Grace is feeling.”
“Grace is feeling very close to coming,” he answers bluntly.
“More,” Rocky presses. “Better explanation.”
He really is close, the edges of his orgasm right there within reach. But he slows his movements instead, takes a few deep breaths and tries to gather his thoughts.
His nipple is still between his thumb and forefinger, over sensitive and a little sore, which he’s always kind of liked. But he isn’t imagining some past mate toying with him anymore. That’s not what he wants right now.
Grace adjusts his hand so it’s all four fingers and his thumb clamping down, an approximation of Rocky’s claw. “I…am feeling like I wish you were over here.”
“Same same same!”
He huffs out a laugh at the enthusiasm. “You’re so…heavy, I want your weight to hold me down.” Jeez, the thought alone makes Grace go dizzy, imagining what that menace could get away with having five arms.
Rocky trills. “Yes yes yes.”
“I know I can’t, but I really want to know what you smell like, taste like.”
“Don’t know these senses,” he reminds him.
“Yeah, I know. You’re missing out.”
Grace pinches harder, moving the toy deeper inside him again. “I’d want to hear you, all those happy sounds you keep making. Without the computer. Just you.”
“Rocky loves Grace’s sounds, too. Body sounds, aroused sounds. Voice is very beautiful.”
“Dang, Rock,” he groans, writhing on the bed at the compliment. “Thank you.”
His arm is tired, but he’s so close. Grace jams one of his pillows beneath his hips to change the angle, relieving some of the pressure from his forearm.
He works with purpose now, finding that perfect burst of pleasure with every thrust, breaths impossibly short as his lungs desperately try to keep up.
“Grace so pretty like this, so cute,” Rocky tells him. “So soft and fragile.”
“You know, I woke up from my coma with some pretty big muscles.”
Rocky titters out a laugh at that, and Grace supposes that’s fair considering how impossibly strong he is compared to any human.
“You told me humans were gross and leaky,” he adds, gritting through his teeth.
“Feelings change…Grace no longer a stranger.”
Yeah, wow, that’s it, right on the mark. “Same, Rock.”
Suddenly he wants this to be done; wants to feel that sweet reward sing through his blood when he comes, but more importantly just wants the stillness that follows, even if Rocky is stuck on the other side of the barrier.
Grace reaches for his dick, barely even getting a loose grip before he’s finishing, an inelegant string of grunts and Rocky’s own musical notes filling the empty space of his skull.
Shoot. Laundry day is coming a bit early, apparently. Grace lets the fog clear for a few moments before sitting up, scooting up against the barrier where Rocky’s already waiting for him, accepting his weight as he leans against him. Rocky’s perfect right now, warm and solid even through the xenonite.
“Thanks for the present,” he mumbles.
“Rocky is happy,” the computer voice answers from across the room, but Grace mostly hears the Eridian tones being snuggled in so close. “Give Grace pleasure like human mate.”
“You’re a quick study,” he tells him. Understatement of all understatements, on every count. “Hey, I know you don’t do this with Eridian mates, but can you feel any kind of pleasure like this? Biologically, is that possible?”
“Not necessary for reproduction like with humans,” Rocky explains. “But vent for eat and egg laying, very sensitive nerves.” He sits up briefly to drag an arm below and point, and Grace wonders if he has any idea how seductive the motion is.
He wonders how sensitive they’re talking, if he might be able to stimulate that spot, wonders if he could make Rocky go all pliant and stupid too.
“Maybe you should get to work on making us some new suits.”
Rocky trills in agreement, settling back against the barrier, and Grace pulls a blanket around himself. They enjoy the stillness — the two of them somehow together, soaring through space, years and years away from both home planets. It seems impossible. Grace hasn’t felt lonely for a single second since Rocky arrived, but now, for the first time, he feels at peace.
“Grace,” Rocky finally says, breaking the gentle silence. “Is this…special occasion, question?”
Grace smiles to himself. “Yeah buddy. I’d say so.”
“Want better food, question?”
“Nah, we can save it. This is more than enough.”