Chapter Text
─ Roche Limit ─
the orbital distance at which a
satellite is tidally destroyed by the
body around which it is orbiting
───── ⯕ ─────
Privacy is not something Grace gets any more. Not while he sleeps, showers, eats, poops - never. He's getting ok with that because what's he gonna do, kick Rocky off the ship? Take a weekend vacation on the hull of the Hail Mary? This is the roommate situation and this is how it stays from now until they reach Erid. He can look at the whiteboard in the lab if he wants to know how close they are to accomplishing that. (He doesn't look because he already knows the answer is "not close at all".)
There are a handful of hours when Rocky's sleep cycle aligns with Grace's leisure cycle. When there's nothing broken to fix, nothing his brain is itching to work on. Those times he lays in bed and draws it into the cozy sleeping cubby, where he can lay and read or watch videos without his friend hooked on to his shoulder asking questions. After months of travel, in those islands of isolation, there's something else Grace has started to allow himself to do.
Grace tilts his chin into his chest, watching as Rocky stays still and curled inside his sleeping capsule hanging at the foot of the bed. He's just a little pebble cradled in a xenonite bubble. Looks cute and peaceful. Sometimes his absolute stillness leaves Grace feeling unsettled. One of the first projects Grace finished once the path to Erid was set was the creation of a sound recorder for the lower spectrum of Rocky's noises - the imperceptible rumble of his inner workings that continue during his sleep. Grace doesn't use it often, just when the sleep cycle has gone a little long and he wants the assurance all is well. Tonight he's not worried. Rocky knocked out exactly when expected, and there should be another hour left before he wakes. So Grace looks back up at the tablet he's got velcroed to the sleeping capsule ceiling, and taps the video to start it playing.
This part always makes him blush, and not from excitement. He's like a teenager sneaking peaks at dirty mags stashed under his bed. Or what he imagines a teenager feels like, doing that. Wasn't his style when he was young. So maybe he actually feels like what he imagines a teen in a movie who snuck peaks at dirty mags stashed under their bed feels like? Whatever, the point is that this is just a totally normal human need that pops up sometimes. His thoughts get stuck in his head. Get him distracted while he'd rather be working on a problem. Rocky comments on it, too. How Grace is staring into space, how his blood flow has gone wonky, asking if he's ok over and over. So it's better for everyone that he does some self maintenance to get it out of his system.
Crap, he's making himself feel embarrassed instead of focusing on the video. With a sigh, Grace scrubs his face then forces himself to relax again. He's gotta get this done before Rocky wakes. If he keeps sidetracking himself, he won't have enough time. Or God forbid, he'll get caught in the middle of having his hand down his pants.
Grace tugs free the tie on his sweatpants, using his thumb to loosen the waistband. His hand slips underneath, and he breathes deep at the soft touch of his own hand. He makes his shoulders untense, his eyes look up and stop glancing lower to catch a view of Rocky's sleeping form. The video he chose this time isn't even that engaging. It's pretty basic porn, which is to say, unrealistic. He's struggling to get himself going, but backing out now means wasting time searching for a new video and - tsk, he just needs to get this done. Like cleaning lab equipment, so he can stop fielding questions about human body irregularities. Come on, get back on track.
With a sigh, Grace squints his eyes and tries his imagination instead. By the end of his time on earth, it had been a while since he'd slept with anyone, so there's not much in the memory banks to tap into. A few adventurous nights in college that were more like science experiments than anything intimate. Some more honest attempts with his girlfriend, but he knows that's a dead end road that'll leave him at the wrong stop. So he imagines little things. A hand on his stomach, trailing down between his legs. Pressure in his lap. Hands pinning his chest. Maybe his wrists?
Grace breathes in sharply at the fantasy, letting his hips rise a little. The quiet pleasure is starting to grow inside of him. Just a twinge in the muscles, but it's making his shoulders relax for real. The quiet is coming into his mind, too. Slowing him down so that his breaths can overtake his thoughts. Clear out the clutter and settle down into a dark nest of uncomplicated sensation.
"What Grace doing, question?"
He almost hits the ceiling with how hard the question makes him jump, hand flying out of his pants and grabbing the nearest object to cover himself. It ends up being his hoodie, unceremoniously bunched up and shoved in his lap to hide his erection.
"WHAT are you doing awake bud? I mean hi- I'm- yup I'm fine! What's up? You ok, Rock?" Grace half twists over, pressing his legs together and managing not to make any kind of untoward noise as he bends in half to see Rocky peeking over the foot of the bed. The eridian is not only awake, but he's in his xenonite suit. There is no way Grace was that distracted. Every move Rocky makes rattles through the ship. Or had that always been on purpose, for Grace to be able to hear him? Holy crap.
Rocky taps his fists together and takes far, far too long to answer. Grace feels his throat drying out as he waits.
"Grace performing... human ritual, question?" Rocky asks. As Grace pinches his lips together and tries to piece together some kind of worthy excuse, Rocky adds. "Human pleasure ritual."
No, no - how does he - "How, uhm - what are you talking about?" It's a misunderstanding, right? Mistranslation? Grace got the word wrong forever ago and is only just now realizing? It's not like they say pleasure all the time. They never say pleasure, like who would just say pleasure it's such a weird word and oh God, why is this happening right now?
"What Grace is doing - is human pleasure ritual, like in video." Rocky gestures to the tablet hanging over Grace's head. With a grimace, Grace blindly slaps the screen until he hears it stop playing. The barely audible sound of moans cuts out, but he knows that barely audible is no issue to eridian hearing.
"Grace is... stressed, unhappy, question?" Rocky asks.
Oh he's real darn stressed and unhappy now. "Kind of, I guess. Uuuh, look, Rocky, I- look I'm sorry. I thought you were asleep and I don't have to do this now. We can just forget this, ok?" Eridians don't forget, of course. If Grace thinks too hard about that he's going to burn alive from embarrassment in this tomb of a bedroom.
"Rocky watch ritual."
The noise Grace makes is somewhere between laughter and strangulation. "Absolutely not."
"But-"
Grace lets go of his crotch shield long enough to cut his hands emphatically through the air. "No, off limits. Humans don't watch-" Incorrect, some do. Some do and like it a lot. "Dang it, I mean - it's just a really private human thing, ok? For me. Very private for me."
"Humans usually perform ritual together." Rocky knocks his fist on the bed, confident in his argument.
"Howdoyouknowthat." It's not really a question, more an indignant, disbelieving plea that this is somehow still a mistake, a translation error, anything other than what's being implied and spoken to him on this tiny spaceship by his alien companion.
"Have been learning about earth customs, rituals, and health, of course. Grace knows this."
Fine, that's fair. Copulation and reproduction were not off the table for their little study group of two. They're elements of the basic building blocks of a species, right? Food and sex are how a species survives and expands. Grace already knows some things about eridian reproduction. Clutches of eggs, hatching timelines, egg production and the like. But that had been purely clinical talk. As had his own detailing of human reproduction in response. The concept of live births, the use of genitals for insemination, gestation periods, and so on and so on. This, though - this is not a clinical example of that at work. This is him watching porn and masturbating.
"Ok. Ok yes, you are doing that, but this is not a custom you need a demonstration of, ok?" Grace says.
Rocky doesn't reply again. Unusual, unless he's thinking hard about something, and Grace does not want to be the thing he's thinking hard about. Nothing, absolutely nothing, about this situation needs to be hard at all, least of all himself. He's distinctly aware of how little his hoodie and hand can hide his body from Rocky's investigative echolocation, if he so desires. But for now there's no clicking and that's a blessing.
Rocky stops tapping his fists together. His claws, contained behind the flexible xenonite netting, grip into the mattress. Squeeze hard enough to make dents in the foam. Then Rocky drags himself up and into the sleeping pod. He blocks out the bright white lights of the dormitory beyond, turning himself into a boulder in the cave entrance.
As Rocky crawls forward, Grace tries to nudge him backwards with his feet. "Rocky- Rocky what are you doing-"
There's no nudging an eridian. He keeps approaching, body forcing Grace's knees to bend backwards. A stone rolling unstoppably toward him. Rocky's presence has never felt so terrifying before. Nope, Grace is not dealing with this tonight. Reaching up he grabs a handle on the sleeping pod ceiling, dragging himself backwards, aiming to sit up and-
- aaaaaand Rocky grabs his ankles, pulling Grace down and toward him. Flat on his back with a quiet oomph.
"Rocky! What the heck!" Grace rolls back and forth on the bed, still scrabbling at the walls, trying to free himself from the unmovable grasp.
"Rocky watch, please?"
"If you've seen videos and done research then you already know everything! No watching needed!"
"Grace lets Rocky watch other human body habits and rituals."
Yeah he had, but has there really been another choice? He can't hold his bladder in until Rocky sleeps every time. Every normal body function he experiences happens during observation hours. And maybe he's gotten less shy about that, maybe he can take his sad sponge baths without thinking about how he's being watched as he wipes his dead skin cells off every few days. But this? This is so, so far beyond that.
"This is entirely different!"
"How, question?" The blocky fingers squeeze in frustration.
Grace hides his face behind his hands. The fact he doesn't have a good answer for that makes his cheeks burn worse. How do you untangle the complexities of human sexuality, shame, and privacy needs for an alien determined to record your every biological output?
"Rocky want to help Grace."
"This ain't it, bud," Grace says, words muffled behind his hands. What he needs help with is crawling out of bed and curling up on the floor until this unbearable embarrassment passes through him.
"Rocky hear Grace, and Grace doesn't sound like humans in videos. Doesn't seem to enjoy performing ritual alone."
Grace is going to black out, his heart is racing so fast. What does Rocky mean he's heard Grace? Has he observed him do this before? Or does he mean right now or - oh god he can't ask. He can't know, he won't recover if he knows.
"A- a lot of those videos are... they're pretend, ok? Not how real people react to-" If he keeps hearing the word ritual in this context it's going to be ruined forever, but his throat is way too dry for him to manage to say sex. "Never mind, ok? I just can't talk about this with you right now."
"But Rocky fix! Can study and learn and help make better."
He needs Rocky to let go of his ankles. His blood is following his brain and his brain is focused on his legs, on his groin still covered by the hoodie. Arms braced on the side of the pod, legs trapped and spread apart - he's going to shrivel up and die here like this. Hearing Rocky talk about fixes and making things better is only making things worse.
"Noooooo, nope. Look, Rocky, I appreciate it I really do but humans just - I just can't do that, ok? Like the moment is gone now anyway so, even if I wanted to - which I don't - I couldn't so just let go of me? And we drop this and move on?"
"Grace saying many things but not making sense." Rocky's grip tightens instead of loosens. "Only know Grace not taking care of self."
Grace claps his hands together like a prayer. He's that desperate. "I promise you I am taking care of myself adequately in this regard. We can take that out of your bucket of worries for the trip, so you can let go of me now. Please."
For a breath, it seems like it works. Rocky's hands unfurl from Grace's ankles, and in relief he collapses backwards with a sharp sigh. But before he can drag himself free, Rocky snaps like a viper. His little claws grip Grace by the waist and drag him down the bed. Two more legs press on his inner thighs, widening them, and Rocky slots himself into the gap. His carapace leans weight on Grace's groin. The hoodie is flicked away, out of the whole bedroom entirely, and with a cold gasp Grace is left gaping down at his lower half. His legs obscenely wrap around Rocky's body, hips pinned by two strong hands. Warmth and pressure, right there and-
Grace's breath hitches. Not once, but a cluster of hungry noise he can't clamp down in time. His knees squeeze and knock into Rocky's xenonite suit, and the eridian calmly pushes the offending legs further open. The contact, the easy force - they're like electric shocks through Grace's body. It hits him right where it's worst.
"Yes, now Grace act more like humans in videos. Rocky helping already."
Grace looks down with blurry vision, watching his own stomach rise and fall. Like his brain is apart from his body. He asks "How many videos have you watched?"
Rocky is quiet a while until he says "Every video Grace has watched."
"Oh my god."
"Also, Mary's recordings of Grace-"
"Stop, please," Grace begs behind his hands again. "Rocky- Rocky this ritual isn't just something humans do casually, ok?" Which isn't quite true, but he's not explaining hook-up culture with his legs wrapped around an alien.
"Grace only know Rocky casually?"
"Stop that, you're misinterpreting on purpose."
"Am not."
"Yes you are!" He doesn't have enough room to gesture as hard as he wants to, hands clawed in the air like he can reach down and shake his friend. But he has to stop goading this argument because every word that Rocky speaks vibrates through his xenonite suit, and when the xenonite suit vibrates... he just has to stop. "Fine, you've proven your point, you're right, you win, but please- let go now, ok? And we'll talk about it. I'll go over absolutely all of it with you, but outside the sleeping pod."
While Grace speaks, he squirms. Tightens his knees around Rocky again, shifts his body on the bed to test how tight those hands are holding. Rocky responds in kind, leaning up closer, pinning down more. When Grace doesn't respond to his annoyed rumble, he does something worse than anything before. He lets go of one of Grace's hips, and lays his spread fingers on Grace's lower stomach to make him still. And then he pushes down.
Grace shudders. It blinds him for a second, his eyes squinted shut against it. But it's a good one, a deep one. The fantasy, a hand on his stomach and down between his legs, comes back to slap him across the face. He wants to be confined by that pressure. Rocky could do that. Can so easily hold him down. Strength like a vice where no clawing forward or backwards releases him. Wrapped up comfort, control. Submission.
The lock's been knocked off the gate, and Grace has unwillingly slipped beyond it.
Tears spring into his eyes. Hands braced back on the wall, Grace pushes up against Rocky's hand and finds it as immovable as he imagined. His feet slip a little on the mattress, leaning more of his weight against Rocky's body. Feels the warm ridges of xenonite press closer. An unbidden want between his legs asks things of his body that his brain avoids acknowledging. So the nerves take over instead, free from the cage of shame. They act with selfishness in mind.
"Rocky-" Grace gasps. "Please."
"Please what, question?" Rocky asks, like he doesn't know what he's done.
Grace doesn't offer any answer. Just sits and pants through his nose while looking blankly down at his companion. The eridian, then, makes his own choice. The pressing hand slides down to the loosened waistband. He pulls it down easily, his other hands helping slip the elastic over Grace's ungainly body parts.
The chill makes Grace's stomach jump while embarrassment makes him close his eyes and knock his head back on the bed. He rolls it to and fro, like he can shake this situation out of his memory. His half-hard dick is just... there, now. On display on his stomach, soft and fragile and a disgusting truth.
Using all his limbs like a spider would, Rocky drags Grace's sweatpants all the way down and off his body entirely. On instinct, Grace reaches down to cover himself with his hand.
"Yes, Grace continue now." Rocky says. Grace can feel him shimmy excitedly, even as his words rattle around inside. But his next words are lower, the tone deep enough that it makes Grace breathe in sharply through his nose as they slide right up his spine. "Grace demonstrate ritual for Rocky, and Rocky will see what Grace do wrong. Can then help and fix."
Rocky's hand strokes across Grace's stomach, the xenonite netting gently pinching his skin and hair as it goes. Grace protectively cups his erection, but it's the most he can manage. Arm shaking, legs shaking - he's just frozen like that. Looking down at his friend sat between his legs. Rocky tilts his face back up at him, one of those things he does to let Grace know he's listening, and then he clicks.
It's like Grace can feel the attention under his skin as the pointed echolocation hits him. There in the muscles of his stomach, following down to the groin. There searching for the blood veins, engorged with heat racing south. Rocky can see every twitch, every muscle clench. Every bodily response that is well outside of Grace's means to control or curb. This is a dissection of his body. Pinned down like a frog in a biology class, under the scalpel with the skin peeled back. Where the soft, wet innards can be collected and turned over for the student's eye.
That should make it easier. This is a scientific endeavor, right? This is a clinical study of his body and its reaction to pleasure stimulus. This is a hands-on (hah) demonstration of a bodily function that Rocky has no frame of reference for. He's got no understanding of the convoluted societal beliefs surrounding this act. Rocky just wants to learn, that's all it is. And as Grace lays there holding his dick, unblinking and thinking those facts, he can only feel the heat inside him grow.
Rocky studies his face. His clicks - little taps on Grace's cheeks. Watching the rush of blood that's burning under his neck and shoulders. He reaches up to touch the back of Grace's clutching hand, pushes at it. Urges it to move.
Oook. Ok. Grace lays his head back on his pillow, presses his lips tight together, and stares at the dark of his eyelids as he takes the hint. He's at least not starting from scratch with being aroused. That should make this quicker. Once he finishes the first stroke - long and slow, from base to tip, it's a little barrier he's knocked over. Rhythm and pace come like habit.
"Explain process." Rocky says. Not even a question, he expects to be listened to.
Grace grinds his teeth together and resists the urge to react to the commanding tone. "Oh god, ok - uhm - s-stimulating with movement- "
"No no, Rocky understands that. Want to know what triggers ritual. Why body need now?"
He's wondering the same thing, because his body is a traitor right now for putting him in this situation and then continuing to stay aroused under this scrutiny. Talking while he strokes himself should win him a nobel peace prize, he thinks. But there's something comforting in the fall back to teaching and answering questions. While his stomach churns his brain keeps ticking, offering little ways out for his attention. "Well it's - it's a lot of chemicals and - " He has to pause to let out a sharp breath. "- and uhm - what gets a human aroused, or, or needing stimulation - different for everyone -" It's kind of working. His shoulders are starting to relax, the warmth starting to seep down his erection. He can get out of this soon.
"What arouses Grace?"
Grace pinches the bridge of his nose. "Privacy."
The low, displeased rumble Rocky makes is too close. It shakes along Grace's arm and hand, deep inside of his inner thighs, like the entire lower half of him has been groped by a giant hand. With a noisy gasp, Grace pushes his hips up. Squeezes his hard-on into Rocky's xenonite shell. When the rumble cuts off, Grace falls back down. He bites the back of his hand, stifling a whine he cannot - can never - let escape.
"Yes! Grace make good noises - just like in video. Do again!"
Grace crosses his arms over his eyes this time, desperate for any solid wall between him and reality that he can create.
By the way Rocky pinches his fingers into Grace's skin, he's getting frustrated. He wants his human to sound and act like what he studied. All that horribly plotted porn, filled with gosh knows what. Grace can't remember anything he's watched now. It's probably a miracle he didn't wake up tied and gagged with Rocky thinking that's what was missing. Then he'd have just been stuck there, victim to Rocky's whims, and...
Rocky presses on his lower stomach again. Grace pinches his legs together. "What Grace thinking, question? Can see body reaction." One finger traces along what must be a significant vein that Rocky is tracking. "Increased blood flow. Muscles clenching. Reaction of enjoyment, correct, question?"
Did he really- while he was thinking about that scenario? That? He still can't answer. Lays there on his bed with his bottom half getting cold, clutching a hand over his cheeks like he can drag his own brain out of his body and beat it into submission. What if Rocky had tried that too, huh? Yes Grace, watching many videos about physical impact during ritual. Grace want to lay over Rocky's legs for demonstration, question? Test how strong Rocky is?
"Good good good," Rocky mumbles. His hand has traveled to the base of Grace's erection, fingers framing it. Stretching the xenonite netting to its limit.
Maybe Grace has to admit some things to himself. Maybe he needs to be honest before his eridian explorer digs his fingers into Grace's guts and starts unwinding his intestines to find the truth. Or he could just jerk off as fast as possible and then hide in the bathroom of the Hail Mary for the entire rest of the journey to Erid. Wow that sounds good, that sounds so relaxing and safe and good!
Rocky rumbles. "Why Grace stop?" Oh did that one not turn him on to think about? Darn, what a shame. "Not doing it right any more. No more noises."
He can, actually, just say it. Just explain it to Rocky like he's explained everything else. He let Rocky watch him pee for Christ's sake, every hang up he has around this process is his own issue.
Taking a deep breath, Grace reaches down to touch himself again. He forces his shoulders and jaw to unclench. Keeps his eyes pinned to the ceiling. "This ritual, for humans - it often involves a lot of trust. So it can be arousing to... explore the limits and boundaries of that trust."
"Limits and boundaries," Rocky echoes quietly.
"Play pretend. Like in the videos, uh -" He cannot remember a single porn video he's watched in his entire life. The one he was looking at minutes ago? Gone from his brain. What's sex? What's arousal? What's anything?
"Grace enjoys exploring limits and boundaries, question?"
He manages to nod, then he shrugs, then he rolls his head. This is so impossible to put into words. Greater minds than him have tried for all of human history, and now his tiny brain has to sum it up and explain it using their baby-talk language. "Sometimes, I guess?"
"What Grace think of before? Made body react?"
He's not going to go into the details, Lord no that will give Rocky ideas. But he thinks he can summarize it to something essential. "Uh - I imagined being... controlled." His jaw is trembling as he debates expanding on that. Fingers clenching the lock on the door, squeezing until his knuckles turn white. It's smarter to not admit it, but to not admit it feels like an active betrayal of what it means. It's been so many months since Tau Ceti and his trust in Rocky hasn't changed. And isn't that the point? "Earlier I was thinking about how you... have taken control of what I'm doing. So what's happening now is making me feel..." he has to swallow a few times before his dry mouth finally releases the word. "Vulnerable. And I... like that feeling, I guess." When he says it, he has to do it quietly and under his breath. Follows it with a shuddering breath through his clenched teeth like he's touched a hot stove.
Rocky's hands tighten, slowly, over Grace's skin. At his inner thighs, over his hips. Pressing down and making him squirm from their hot pinch. For a moment he thinks it might be anger, that Grace has sullied their friendship by dragging Rocky into something so perverse. But then Rocky says. "So... Grace wants to be prey."
What? ... Maybe?
Rocky continues, his tone languishing over each sound. "Prey is small. Fragile. Helpless. Prey cries when caught. Scared of predator. Cannot escape."
Yeah he knows what prey is and what it does. Wants to argue that that's not this at all, but when he cranes his neck to look down at Rocky, there's a buzzing in the back of his brain he can't ignore. Playing the description over and over again in his head. Each word Rocky chose feels like it was a test, with the way he said them slowly. With the way he clicked in between them. Was he watching to see which Grace reacted to most?
Rocky leans forward, his carapace putting pressure on Grace's groin. "Helpless." He says again. Grace's shoulders shiver, eyes unfocusing. Rocky pulls on his hips, squeezing him in closer. "Grace is helpless now."
"D...don't-" He should finish that sentence. Really should, it's just a few words he has to say. In fact he knows the words that would actually, probably, make this stop entirely. So why isn't he saying anything? Why is he just laying here, swallowing his own tongue over and over?
"Understand now, how to fix. Grace will do what Rocky wants now."
"I thought this was about... studying."
"Rocky satisfied with amount of study. Ready to pursue practical application of new theory."
Grace needs up, needs to look straight at Rocky and stop this horrible head craning business. Giving up on shielding himself, Grace braces his hands on the walls and tries to drag himself up into a sitting position. Rocky could shove him back but he lets him instead. Helps him, even, hands bracing Grace's ribs to guide him upwards, carapace tilting back to best catch the sound of Grace's movements and watch where he's headed. An emptiness appears between he and Grace's bodies, and then he holds Grace carefully, grip soft, pressure leaving off his aching legs.
It's those things that push down the no that's sitting in the back of Grace's throat. Actions that become a trickle of cool water for his parched body.
"Grace trust Rocky, question?" The eridian asks. His hold is gentle as he sings it, the tone light and slow to leave the least impact on Grace's body.
Of course he does. Immeasurably. With his life, with his health - why not with his body? All of this desire spinning his head in circles - it's a normal human behavior he's getting so worked up about. As basic as eating, sleeping, breathing for a lot of people. Rocky has no understanding of the embarrassment and shame that humans have attached to these reactions. Rocky's certainly learned about it on some level or he wouldn't have felt the need to sneak up on Grace with all of this, but the truth is if Grace looks at it scientifically, there's no reason to hide this. There's no reason to not just... let Rocky do what he wants. For science.
This is the most terrifying quiet Grace has found himself in since waking up alone on the Hail Mary. He should set a boundary on this, a safety net of some kind, he thinks. An escape word or motion or... Or he can not. That's so stupid, that's horribly stupid and unsafe and there's five people back on earth who'd slap him upside the head for this, yet his fingers curl into the sides of the soft sleeping chamber because he's thinking maybe he really does give in. Maybe he lets Rocky do fully, unquestionably, anything he wants with Grace and his body. Helpless, helpless, helpless drums his heart in his ears.
It's easy to do. Letting go of responsibility. Always so easy and rewarding. Like a drug.
Grace nods. "Ok," he whispers.
Rocky sings with excitement, the joy vibrating through his fingers. One hand pushes Grace backwards. When he's laid down again, the hand pushes his shirt all the way up to his armpits. His stomach has lost a lot of its muscles (all of them, really.) It's now soft, and a little rounded with pudge which he hopes will help him make it to Erid when the good food runs out. It's clear Rocky has found this change fascinating by the way he lays two hands on Grace's stomach and squeezes the extra fat. The small fingers drag down to the inside of Grace's spread legs, and that's when Grace has to stop looking down.
"Blood flow chaotic," Rocky says. "Muscles here very tense. Trembling. Grace love touch so much. Enjoyable sensation, question?"
"Yes." Very. The xenonite netting is warm, a little rough. Like calloused hands, maybe? Mesh gloves? But he can feel the shape of Rocky's thick fingers through it, and that's more than enough. Blocky, alien touch teasing around his most sensitive parts.
"Vocalization can indicate pleasure and arousal level, question?"
"Yes." As Rocky keeps touching, Grace manages to swallow and say. "Do you... want me to continue with my hand?"
"No. Rocky will do all touching now."
"I mean, you don't have-"
He moves like a spider, only twice as fast. Crawls over top of Grace to brace two hands either side of Grace's ribs. Two other legs make use of his superior weight and pin Grace's legs open. That leaves one free, and that one presses experimentally on Grace's very full, very sensitive dick. "Not Grace's choice now. Rocky's choice only."
"I know, I got it-" Grace reaches up to touch one of Rocky's legs, but in an instant he finds both wrists gripped and held aloft. Instinct makes him test the grip and he finds it fully immovable. Like fighting against, well, three hundred pounds of strength. Grace laughs nervously. "Ok you're really committing to the helpless prey thing, huh?"
Rocky tilts his carapace a little. "But Grace is helpless now. Grace is vulnerable." With all the ease in the world, Rocky pushes Grace's arms backwards until his wrists are pinned next to his head. "Cannot stop Rocky at all. Could hurt Grace a lot if wanted." The eridian's grip increases. Squeezes until Grace sucks in a pained breath. "Eridians good predators. Catch prey and squeeze it. Crack open shells much stronger than Grace's bones. Easy." He could be saying human or earthling instead of Grace's name, but he's making this personal. Making it an intimate idea, wiggling its way into Grace's brain.
Grace looks up at his friend, feels the pain in his wrists increasing, and he whimpers. He knew these things, of course. Knew their weight and strength difference, knew they were evolved for different kinds of predation. But knowing and feeling the ease at which his body could be broken, should Rocky decide he wants to see that right now, are two different things. One of those is filling his stomach with a kind of feeling he's never had before. There's genuine fear in there somewhere, but it's churning with an unnatural kind of want that's almost got him sitting up and thinking hard about where it's coming from.
The squeezing stops. One hand adjusts slightly, sliding down Grace's arm until it rests right over the burn mark. The fear in his heart tapers out, pushed aside by something warmer. Like a wink within a glaring face.
He doesn't know why he says it. It just feels right, in that moment, looking up at Rocky, his breathing coming in low pants. Just a whisper, a suggestion: "Please."
It's like a low, deep laugh Rocky makes. Then he wraps his free hand around Grace's leaking erection, and he begins to hum a steady tune.
"Eridians stimulate egg creation through joint song," Rocky explains. Grace knows that information, but hearing it while his dick is getting vibrated by said song makes it stick a little different in his brain. "Vibration seems common in human pleasure ritual, too. Expect good results."
Well he'll likely be getting them, because the technique is on point. Grace rocks his hips slowly, for as little as he's allowed to with all that weight sitting in his lap. Rocky holds his hand steady so that Grace can grind into it. There's enough slick to soften the slight bite of the xenonite netting. It's honestly pretty pleasant to slide against like this, full of little ridges of heat that stroke him up and down. Maybe it's not as soft but he wants it, but he shudders as he focuses on it.
This is, legitimately, so much better than hiding in his bunk and doing this alone. Maybe that's the pleasure clouding his brain, maybe the come-down from all this primitive desire is going to make him burn alive with shame, but right now that heat is filling him in the best way. Rocky is clicking above him, and the pulse of his focus carves through Grace in layers. Veins, muscles, lungs, heart. Each one studied in turn. Traveling, again and again, down to his groin. Grace curls his fingers into his palm and lets his imagination grasp that sensation and run with it. Rocky could reach inside him if he wanted to. Deep, deep inside. Further than anyone else could. Grace pinned helplessly on the table, tied, spread. Every limb handled and turned over as desired. Cut into, pulled apart. All of it with a stubby hand stroking through his hair, smoothing over his skin and telling him he can't fight this, but Rocky will make it easy for him. Will cradle every organ and show it to Grace, too. They'll explore him together, piece by piece.
This is going fast. Too fast, almost. His wrists keep testing Rocky's grip, want to reach up and grab on to something. His hips are lifting higher, pushing closer into that sweet, sweet vibration from Rocky's singing. It's so good it's riding down his legs, like many hands clutching him. Holding him open wide, unwrapping a precious specimen.
"Close-" he warns, breathless. "So close-"
Rocky stops singing. Grace gasps, hips falling down to the bed. Crap!
"Grace not making noises."
"W-what?"
"Grace not making noises like in videos." Rocky says again. When Grace tries to rut, Rocky lays the stroking hand on his stomach and pins him down fast. Double crap!
"Rocky - Rocky please you can't just - th - the videos, a lot are exaggerated, ok? Not everyone sounds like that."
"But made noise earlier. Good noise, from back of throat. Center of chest."
Grace shakes his head. "I'm sorry, I'm not usually like that." He's never been loud. Always found it hard to let himself go like that.
"No, not understanding - will make noises for Rocky."
"Uh, I can't just do it on command. I mean, I can fake it if you want?" This is so uncomfortable. He tries to squirm his lower half a little, tensing his legs to see if he can get any friction. "I can yell if you want, when you let me finish..."
Rocky takes Grace in hand again, and starts his song. It's instant relief, Grace recognizing how tense he'd gotten as soon as his spine eases from the contact. At least Rocky is willing to listen to some reason still. Grace will have so much to explain in detail after this, but he pushes that thought aside. All that matters is that coiling warmth in his lower stomach, rising up again. A spring twisting tighter and tighter. And credit to himself, he does try to make noise. Grunts as he rolls his hips, opens his mouth so his breathing is louder. Rocky will have to be satisfied with that, because beautiful climax is coming closer and -
Rocky stops again.
Grace hisses. "Rocky come on, pleeeeease."
"Yes! Better noise, do more."
"What? You want me to- to beg?"
"Yes. And more." Rocky starts to sing again.
With a sharp intake, Grace suddenly realizes where this is going. Rocky is edging him. Rocky is going to edge Grace until he's satisfied with whatever reaction he wants from the human. An alien with only a vague understanding of human pleasure and with a desire to hear Grace beg and whine is, unquestionably, in charge of Grace's entire body right now. That's genuine fear that hits him, sweat starting to bead on his neck. The pleasure is building again, just as strong as before. Only this time Grace's legs are shaking, and his breathing is quickening.
Rocky takes him to the edge again, takes Grace to the point his hips hungrily lift off the bed and his heels press into the mattress for leverage, only to tighten his grip and halt the vibration.
Grace whines this time, dropping back down. "Rocky- Rocky please just let me finish."
The little fist tightens around Grace's cock. He audibly gasps at the sudden burst of pain.
"No. Not satisfied with Grace response to stimulation yet."
He's starting to feel tears come to his eyes as he looks down between his legs, almost expecting to see something pop from the pressure Rocky is using. It's sharp enough pain that a long, inescapable groan comes out with every one of Grace's panting breaths. He wants so bad to close his legs and pull away.
"This for Grace's own good."
"Letting me climax is good for me!" He's rushing his words, pitch rising higher - "Please, Rocky? Hurts-"
The crushing stops and Grace can take a breath in again. In fact the hand stops gripping entirely. The fingers instead spread out, low at the base of the hard-on, making contact with his balls. Cradling his entire groin, essentially. Vibration begins again, but this time it's different. It's varying in sound and length, each difference seeming to focus the noise on a new body part. The head, the shaft, the inside of his legs. Like gentle fingers stroking over the skin. It's almost soothing, until the pattern changes again and takes Grace's breath away.
It's inside of him somehow. Like, inside inside. Crawling upwards as the pitch lifts, the clicking alternates speed. It starts to expand, and as it does Grace loses the ability to breathe. He leans his head back like that will open his airways, and finds, startled, that not only is drool bubbling in his mouth, but there's tears rolling down the corner of his eyes. "More," he says breathlessly. Shakes his head- no he has to impart this for real, needs to mean it - "Don't stop. Please, Rocky - more."
Rocky agrees with the request. He increases the loudness and the sensation intensifies. One of his six voices keeps that song steady, another begins to stimulate the outside of Grace again. It's too much. His body's never felt any of this before, certainly not together. What was once a teapot inside of him has now been turned into a pressure cooker with the lid locked tight.
"Grace likes, question?" When Grace doesn't answer, the vibrations lower and Rocky demands. "Answer."
"Yes!" Grace lets his mouth hang open now, lets himself make the hungry noises Rocky wants from him. Perverse moans he's never heard from himself before. It's all so overwhelming, he almost can't tell when he's getting close. It feels already like he's on the edge, ready to tip every second. But Rocky can tell. Rocky is watching every muscle clench, every blood vein pulsing with unbearable need through Grace.
Rocky stops.
"Nooo nonononon please, God please Rocky- I need- please please please-" Well, he's... crying. Genuinely crying, eyes blurred from tears. He yanks his arms against Rocky's grip, but that's pointless. He might as well be trying to extract his arms from solid rock. This time the pause extends, Rocky still and silent over him. He feels the echolocation clicks on his skin. Looking at his tear-streaked face, his shaking head and pleading eyes. "Don't do it again. Please don't, please."
"Hmm. Not up to Grace when Rocky is satisfied."
Fuck. He wants to bury his face in his hands but he can't. Wants to curl up and sob but he can't. He's Rocky's prisoner, his prey. Caught in the claws of a predator that's slowly, steadily, squeezing until his shell cracks open.
He keeps saying please as Rocky begins again, until the stimulation takes his voice. So he lays there and takes another long, steady rise to the edge, jaw trembling the entire time in terror of what will come next. The better he feels, the faster his heart races in fear that it will happen again. The louder his whimpering gets.
Rocky stops.
There's no scrap of dignity left in him. He sobs. There's pain in his wrists, not from Rocky but from how hard he's fighting to free his arms. The same for his legs. Fighting to close them, the muscles weak, trembling like the rest of him. He wants to explode, but the sensation is slowly, slowly backing down again. Every step away from relief his body takes cuts him like a scalpel. Need is a physical hand squeezing him from the inside, is a hunger in his throat he can't voice because of how busy it is with his whines for Rocky's mercy.
"What Grace need, question?" Rocky asks.
Grace just shakes his head. There's nothing left in him for speaking. There's nothing left in him to fight or flee or anything. The shell is cracked, and this is his soft inside, fresh for Rocky to devour however fast or slow he wants to. All Grace has are the tears spilling from his eyes and the sensation coiled deep and unbearable in his body.
"Need Rocky's help, question?"
Grace nods, eyes squeezed closed.
"... Rocky help finish ritual now."
He'll believe that when it happens. What matters is the pleasure returns again. With Rocky so close, the vibrations fill him completely. Every organ, limb, muscle sings in unison with the eridian. Grace's legs widen on their own, pressing into the mattress to rise even closer. Everything, closer. His need, closer. Growing inside of him beneath a bubble of fear that's making his heart scream.
"Please please please don't take it away again," Grace mumbles, head turned aside so he can try and bury it into the mattress. He squirms underneath his friend, voice growing more desperate on every syllable. "Please please please-"
"Shhh, won't stop again. Promise."
He sobs hard at the assurance before his lungs become too busy keeping him alive. He can't imagine that climax can feel better than everything happening inside of him right now, with every nerve stimulated at the perfect frequency. With his body consumed by desire and need. It ramps and ramps higher, deeper, closer. And when it's close he starts to shake. Rocky wouldn't lie, he wouldn't lie would he? But he could. He can do anything he wants. He deserves to do anything he wants. Helpless in his friend's hands, open heart surgery and eridian fingers clutching his brain and every thought rattling around inside (which is currently none.)
"Yes, yes, Grace can... come?" Rocky says, the last word tinted in uncertainty in its usage. That's when Grace realizes he's been begging for Rocky to allow him to climax. Along with drooling mindlessly onto his sheets. The permission finally allows Grace to release the bubble of fear inside of him, and once that pops the rest of him follows. He clenches around the vibration within, pushes against the body above him. It's so much hunger being fed, so much tension being unraveled. Pleasure finds the edge, toes it for a second, and then plunges down into the deep. Grace releases a cry as climax races through his entire body. Every nerve sparks for one glorious, unbearable moment. Hard enough to take his breath away, to make him arch and kick and ride through the overwhelming stimulation until he can gasp in air again. It's good, it's so good - it's never been so good, so consuming before.
Grace collapses when it's done. Rocky hums in his ear, but it's a surface sensation only. Nothing more inside, which is good. He's confident he wouldn't be able to handle that, would probably give him a heart attack if Rocky tried over stimulation after everything else.
"Grace ok, question? Enjoy ritual?"
Well he has the energy to laugh, running one of his hands down his face to wipe his tears. There's nowhere safe to look, so he just squints and lets the watery leftovers blur his view. "Yup, I sure did."
Rocky's happy chirp is so genuine, his wiggles back and forth over top of Grace make him smile. "Then Rocky fix! Grace react even better than research suggested. Happy happy happy." One by one, Rocky's legs lift off of Grace. Off his thighs, his wrists. A shiver runs through him as he stretches each limb. "Learned much much much. Very good experience."
Grace should absolutely let him leave. He's done enough, really. Dealt with so much of Grace's leaky, needy, gross human self. He didn't need to do any of this for Grace, but he did. He doesn't need to stay after to deal with Grace either, but - "You're leaving?" Grace whispers.
Rocky stills over top of him, legs spread to hold him off of Grace's body. "Grace... not want privacy?"
He's naked on his lower half, shirt still bunched up under his arms. Sticky stomach, crusty folds where his sweat is drying. Wet cheeks from crying. Maybe he could use some privacy for clean up. For thinking. The adrenaline and arousal comedown is crawling towards him now, a bad sensation on the horizon he's too tired to run from.
Grace nods reluctantly, using the heel of his hand to scrub off the dried tear tracks on his face. "No you're... you're right." Rocky probably wants his own privacy, too. With a wince, Grace sees a splatter of cum on the xenonite suit. Please let that clean out easily. "Uhm... Thank you, Rocky. For your... help."
Rocky trills happily. "Always ready to help. Grace need rest now, Rocky must go record plans."
Plans? Plans... must be, maybe, ideas regarding one of the human-survives-erid problems they've been working on? Eridians can multitask after all. Split attention, split conversations. No reason Rocky couldn't be working on more important things than his study of Grace, right? That kind of thing isn't personal for an eridian. They don't take offense at divided attention, so... neither will Grace.
Grace's shoulders rise, or maybe he sinks into them. He says "Yup, go ahead, bud," and smiles as Rocky climbs backwards out of the sleeping cubby. Then Grace sits up against the back of his bed. Rolls his shirt back down and draws his legs in, watching the light of the Hail Mary re-emerge as Rocky's shadowed figure drops back down to the ground.
It's just science, after all. Experimentation, exploration, with a little bit of reasonable concern for Grace's health thrown in. Like all the rest of the things they do. They're friends. Close friends, but also crewmates, explorers, discoverers. Responsible for showing their species and cultures to each other, all facets of it. And Grace trusted Rocky enough to show him this. Maybe he got a little more intense about it than he'd expected to. That's fine. That happens. It's really, super-duper ok.
Grace closes his eyes, and breathes, and rubs at the little abrasions on his wrists from where he fought against Rocky's strength. He's going to not think about that. In fact he's going to stop touching those, stop touching the bubbled scar on his arm, and not think about either of those things for a few hours.
He needs to sleep. Badly, before the headache threatening the back of his neck makes its way around to his temple. Without waiting for Rocky to come back to watch him, Grace cleans himself off as quickly as he can, then hides beneath his rumpled sheets.