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The problem with being in space, is that there isn’t a set orbit of light to dictate the days for you. It’s been a long, long time so Grace has grown used to learning when the exhaustion his body is feeling is the signal that he has been awake for too long. That and of course the clocks they have around, but sometimes if they aren’t careful, they can stay awake from 0900 to 0900, so then when he next checks the clock and sees 1300, he believes only four hours have gone by instead of the actual twenty eight hours that it truly is.
Rocky catches the timing better than Grace can. Eridians are truly amazing, their ability to multitask, near perfect memory, and impeccable math skills and conversion means that Rocky doesn’t make many time mistakes. Of course, if he’s also edging the tiredness of being awake for too long, he makes some slip ups here and there.
Mostly, he just gets snappy and mean.
They are currently in the process of breeding Taumoeba-62. Well, that and cleaning out his infected fuel tanks. Multitasking.
Not multitasking. Just two tasks together. Do not even correlate activity at same time. A suspiciously Rocky sounding voice butts in in Grace’s mind. He rolls his eyes, head shaking slightly.
This is multitasking for humans. Maintaining his own body with his ever dwindling food source, stressing over it by running constant calculations in his mind, but also constantly running his mind on the breeder tanks for the Taumoeba. The concentrations of nitrogen leak, sectioning off the different evolutions of Taumoeba. But also working on keeping his body active, mostly with the fuel tanks.
It’s a lot, okay?
And it’s a lot to do on minimal sleep.
They’re both so excited at being so close to their goal, that getting a full night of sleep feels like they are wasting precious time.
They just need Taumoeba-82.5.
They are making significant progress towards that goal, considering the days…? Weeks…? That it took to get even to 62.
Point is. Grace is not sleeping well, and he isn’t eating well either. His stress is kind of at an all time high while simultaneously being the most relieved he has ever felt. They’re doing it. They are actually doing this. Erid and Earth will be saved.
But they can’t just stop because the goal is within sight. If anything, they have to push that much harder.
Grace is currently hunched over a microscope, testing another experiment with the Taumoeba. If there was any way to turn these little things into proper food or a source to make food with... He doesn’t think he will get anywhere with it, but it’s worth at least looking into.
There’s a slight taptaptap behind him.
“Grace.”
He hums in reply, watching the Taumobea slugging around on the slide.
“Grace.” More forceful, exasperated. Rocky has always been comfortable with getting smart with Grace, but since they have reconnected with the Blip-A, and Rocky has been able to give them more distance and insists to stay in Grace’s space instead, they have gotten shorter and more comfortable with each other.
Rude. That’s what he’s trying to say. They are beyond comfortable with one enough that conversations take a sharp rude tone to them sometimes, especially when either of them are tired. Like now.
“What?” Grace snaps, frustrated that he is being interrupted. He’s flipping busy, okay? This is the one and only small time to himself where he doesn’t have to clean anything or work on some sort of chore or experiment. This is time that he can have for himself and it’s not even respected.
When he glares over his shoulder, he sees Rocky’ raised up on his legs. Higher than usual. Offense. It could be kind of silly to see him like that, but Grace is so used to reading Eridian body language now, that all he can feel is a reflex kick of irritation. He’s the one coming in here and interrupting him, what is he getting all worked up about?
“Grace take break. Grumpy. Stupid. Need food. Need cleaning. Need sleep.”
Ignoring him, Grace turns to glare back into the microscope instead. He takes a small probe and nudges the side of a Taumoeba. Poke. Pokepoke. Cmon, be more helpful than just eating Astrophage you little buggers. You evolved so fast to resist nitrogen which literally kills you you can evolve to help me not die of starvation.
Suddenly, his chair rolls out away from the lab desk, and the microscope in front of him is replaced by empty air. Rocky makes an unhappy, grumbling grinding noise, as he pulls Grace’s chair until he’s sitting in the middle of the lab.
Oh yeah, that’s another new change they have taken to getting used to like nothing. Rocky has found a way to compress his xenonite hamsterball into a skin tight (or should he say carapace-tight?) suit.
It’s almost like a sheen of oil layered over Rocky’s entire body, so thin and seamless that Grace doesn’t notice it unless the lighting in the ship hits the xenonite just right. The suit has made Rocky significantly more mobile and comfortable aboard the ship without needing to be confined to his ball or the series of hamster-tunnels, which he has since deconstructed.
Now he can do annoying stuff like pushing and pulling Grace whenever he wants instead of uselessly banging on a wall of xenonite between them.
“Grace take break. Rocky not asking.”
Right now, Grace is certainly wishing he could put a wall between them again, to just be left alone for a while. (Not considering the past thirteen hours that he has been hunched over in the lab without even a peep or poke from his Eridian companion)
Grace stands up, a flush of aggravation under his skin. Fine, if Rocky won’t leave him alone, he’ll go somewhere else. He doesn’t even reply, ignoring the sentient pebble in his shoe that keeps trying to stand in front of him for attention.
He’s actively stepping around Rocky, stepping over him, and heading towards the other end of the lab, cabinets and rows of samples. He could find something else here to look at, check up on the Taumoeba farms…
Except, he doesn’t even make it to the threshold to cross the hallway of the ship. His feet stop. A complete, precise standstill.
There’s a split second of confusion, an understanding, and then immediately trying to disprove the truth in his head.
Rocky had chittered at him, a short burst of notes, monosyllabic in Eridian despite the layers of chords. He registered it not as any word, yet the command still struck.
Stay.
Heeled. Like a dog.
And it wasn’t by any doing of Grace’s own decision making. It was impulse.
Like how he doesn’t even need to think about telling his brain to lift his arm to pick something up. It just happens. Simple nerves firing, a connection of synapses in the fractions of space between milliseconds.
Rocky had wanted him to stay and it happened.
Grace didn’t choose to do it.
“What the heck–”
Rocky is emanating a steady humming noise as he approaches slowly. Grace can only watch him in shock, is he aware that he’s doing this? Or is it just some weird coincidence? They’re still figuring each other out, it could just be some weird side effect of incompatible Eridian Human—
His feet set in motion again. A release when Rocky stops humming, and Grace almost trips on his own feet as his body starts right back into the momentum of walking that he had been stopped from before.
“Interesting,” Rocky comments, almost subvocal. Grace almost misses it, he obviously wasn’t being spoken to, but he heard the notes of amusement anyway.
Grace stops, finally his own doing, and whirls around to face Rocky.
“What was that?”
“Experiment. Test.”
“Of what? How did you even–”
“Grace sleep now. Rocky watch,” his bossy roommate states, as he begins to walk out the hall and towards the room they sleep in. Grace, still speechless and struck with confusion, can only helplessly follow along.
No matter how much he picks and pokes and demands, Rocky doesn’t offer him any explanation or any insight over what that just was. Instead, he simply prepares the mess of blankets and pillows, waits for Grace to finally lay down, and then curls up next to him.
They both lay there in silence for a few long minutes before Grace tries once more, turning his head with a weird sort of swirling in his gut and says, “Seriously. What did you do back there?”
All he gets in answer is a rather heavy set of two limbs across his chest, and a firm, stern grunt of “Grace. Sleep.”
To which he just huffs, puts his head back on the pillow and stubbornly closes his eyes. He’s definitely not pouting as he forces himself to count the numbers of pi until he’s finally asleep.
────⋆⭒˚.⋆🪐 ⋆⭒˚.⋆────
Okay. So he needed the sleep.
He feels infinitely better, clear mind, better mood.
It’s kind of annoying when Rocky is right.
It’s even more annoying when he feels better after eating. And then more after a bath, a good scrub through his hair until it’s perfectly clean. All that grease buildup was just evil energy seeping into his brain, as his kids used to say.
He feels better, but that just means he can feel the ice-cold lingering of anxiety just at the back of his mind. He’s going to starve to death soon. Before they can reach Erid. No, no, he can’t think about that right now.
He needs to... Needs to work. Push his brain to work on so many things at once he doesn’t have time to hear the panic of his inner thoughts about his imminent doom.
Rocky finds him when he’s changing into a new clean shirt, orange spacesuit on as pants while he ties the top half and arms around his waist.
“Grace feel better, question?”
“Yeah. Thanks, bud. Sorry about before. I really did just need some sleep and food.”
“Human brain so sensitive.”
Yeah, true. But the way Rocky says that is kind of ominous.
There’s a double meaning in there somewhere.
“Grace spend next 24 hours not working. Need break from science and task. Too much for human brain. Overload.”
“Noo, that’s the opposite of what I need actually. I need to work so I don’t overthink. Not enough stimulus is going to drive me insane, considering what I could be thinking about if I’m not busy.”
“Rocky not say Grace not be busy.”
Oh.
Well, that sounds like Rocky has something planned.
Grace follows Rocky as he leads, eventually stopping at their beds. But now, in the far corner away from where they sleep, there’s a layer of xenonite. It’s almost like…? A half ball? A cradle? The shape is familiar, Rocky has morphed their beds in such a way to allow a sort of insert to Rocky’s space where Grace can lay, gives Rocky a place to sit to see him from above when watching his sleep.
This is different, there’s just one curved side of the structure, and it doesn’t connect to any place where Rocky could get inside of it, or between it and the wall where it’s balanced against.
“What’s this?” Grace is curious, walking over to examine the little structure, it comes to his hip at its highest curve, a gilded xenonite point that glimmers amber.
“For Grace. Safe. Grace lay inside.”
There’s… not really an inside to it. Like he’d observed from the beginning, it’s just a smooth crescent like place against the corner walls of the sleeping area.
He’s still looking it over, trying to figure it out before just outright asking what its purpose is for, but suddenly he’s looking at the top of the thing, and now he’s looking at it from his knees.
Huh.
When did he–
Rocky is humming somewhere behind him, a resonating deep bass of a tone cluster. The most deep note reverberates, like a drum beat in Grace’s chest and his teeth and his skull, except it’s just a steady, heavy type of pressure.
Okay. Weird. He’s… This is weird.
Grace looks down at himself, where his knees are solidly connected to the floor. He didn’t do that, and he can’t make his legs move in any way to stand back up again.
“Grace think too much. Think think think. Make Grace stupid when think too much,” Rocky is behind him, he listens to the way his legs tap against the ship flooring, gracefully stepping over Grace’s legs until he’s right up against his lower back.
“Make Grace no think. Calm. Help. Good for human to not think.”
Alright, he’s not following. He’s only more confused, and kind of getting a little freaked out by this. Only because he’s gotten so comfortable with Rocky being a safe presence, he’s forgotten that this alien being is stronger than him and could absolutely cause him harm without breaking a sweat (not that Eridians can sweat, but…).
“Still thinking. Bad.” Rocky makes a noise not entirely unlike a growl. Moreso a low harmony of notes. Frustration.
Sit.
Grace feels his body move this time. Like an out of body experience kind of, a prisoner inside himself where all he can do is watch and feel. Entirely out of control.
His knees bend more and his butt drops firmly to the ground.
Rocky is against his shoulder now, solid, hot carapace along Grace’s entire back. Close enough that he can hear the soft lift and fall of the vents atop Rocky’s carapace. He leans into him, a more solid connection of touch, and through the growing wash of panic in his mind, Grace thinks how comforting the contact is.
“How are you doing that…?” his voice shakes.
Rocky rumbles against his back, leaning into him. Nuzzling. He’s rubbing against his shoulder in a small little back and forth motion. Rocky is nuzzling at him.
Like a switch being flipped, Grace can move again, Rocky’s humming vibration low in the back of his mind stops, and Grace feels the stiff alignment of his spine relax. He slumps, goosebumps all over his arms and the back of his neck but he doesn’t try to get away.
“Inside. Made for Grace.” Rocky instructs, not answering his question.
Dumbfounded, and a little shellshocked by his own inability to really find this whole thing concerning, Grace shuffles forward, leans into the xenonite curvature and twists around until it’s solid against his back.
Rocky wastes no time in scuttling in closer. Two hands each that gently nudge his feet apart, his knees, and Rocky situates himself right in between the V of Grace’s lap.
“Good good good. Grace can relax. Is comfortable? Warm?”
There’s a lot of information to take in here. Rocky’s proximity, the whole conversation, Rocky not outright explaining himself, the body snatching thing…
Which, actually. Yeah. That’s his primary concern here.
“Okay, Pal. I’m in the thing. Can you answer me, please? Like, you know I’m into learning new stuff about you and our culture differences and stuff but when you–”
“Grace trust Rocky, question?”
…
Alright. That’s not entirely fair to whip out on him.
“I– Of course I do, but we should–”
“No more question until done. Rocky show Grace.”
Before he can open his mouth again to push for more questions, or at least tell Rocky that they really should talk about this and figure out if it’s even safe, the humming is starting again.
Grace watches his left hand rise, gentle like there’s a string around his wrist and elbow and it’s being lifted by that. It’s… incredibly odd, to watch his arm move but not feeling it, not feeling his own consciousness make it move.
There’s no pain, no tingling or numbness or anything. Just his arm moving up, pausing in the air, and then reaching out to drop on top of Rocky. The humming pitch stops, and Grace voluntarily twitches his own fingers as Rocky wobbles under his hand as he chuckles.
“Not hurt, right?”
“No.. that… whatever that is, it doesn’t hurt.”
“Good good good. Rocky thought so. Human brain sensitive. Rocky use ♪♫♪ and ♪♪♪♪ to create stimulation. Human neurons responsive, make muscle contract, focus can make it specific. Not hurt Grace. Help Grace relax.”
Okay.
Okay, this is. Wild.
Rocky is controlling him with his echolocation. Grace can’t even think about how that is actually working, now that he knows that’s exactly what it is. He’s heard of using certain noise frequencies to help people sleep or meditate or focus. Brown noise or white noise or whatever. He is also distantly aware of electroconvulsive therapy.
Grace shivers, when all of his thoughts just… fade out.
It’s a quick, whip-snap second of nothing.
His brain is pleasantly empty.
…
What was he worrying about again…?
“Good. Grace still thinking too much. Fixed.”
That’s right, hey. Rocky is here. Right in front of him and making this comfortable low whale song chittering noise. Droning. Almost like a hum of bees.
“Rocky learn how to make Grace body move with frequencies. Can also make thoughts be not as loud. Grace uncomfortable, question?”
Grace immediately shakes his head no. There’s no pain anywhere and he lets his whole body melt back into the cradle of xenonite. This is nice. He’s warm and his super great pal Rocky is right there against him. He might have felt embarrassed about this if he wasn't so… hm…
“Not uncomfortable. No pain. Good good good. Rocky still make Grace feel better. Can be better experience. So much stress lately. Not good. Grace only speak if hurting or unsafe or need to stop.”
Well that is just so thoughtful. Grace feels his chest warm but tight with something he can’t get a full grasp on. There’s a hot feeling behind his eyes, like he’s about to start crying. He can feel his bottom lip wobble a little, but when he takes a big, deep breath and lets it out shakily, that overwhelmed feeling ebbs away.
“Grace need lots of contact,” Rocky says, like that’s explaining much of what’s happening. But Grace can’t say this is bad. Yes, he needs contact. It’s been years since he last had a hug, or even just another human hand on his shoulder giving a comfortable or praising squeeze. A solid hand on his back.
Touch, comfort, skin and a warm body for connection.
Rocky’s carapace is solid between his legs, and the pressure of him is… well rocky, but it’s warm and intentional which is what matters. Where Rocky’s rough sides press in on the inside of Grace’s thighs, where his claws are holding Grace at the waist, and another on his shoulder, and a third on his knee.
He should be freaked out…maybe. Should he be? Any other human might have been. To be trapped in an alien cocoon with said alien pressing in on them like it is ready to strike or pull him apart.
But like they had established before. Grace trusts Rocky. And with his head so quiet, thoughts somehow magically blocked off from swirling endlessly between his ears, he can just focus on how nice this is. How badly he had been needing touch like this and how much better it is that it’s Rocky doing it.
The buzzing emanating from Rocky changes pitch, a shift of tone clusters, harmonies sliding around, melding into a new song. Grace feels his body leaning, a slight arch to his back, hips angling up as his knees widen. All done without his decision.
One of his arms falls limp and numb at his side, useless deadweight, and the other slides around the middle of Rocky’s carapace, under the bends of his legs where they connect to his body so they’re out of the way. Grace can’t control his limbs or his own body and he can’t get a control on his breathing either, panting as the heat under his skin starts to grow.
Rocky’s up against his crotch now and there’s only a thin separation of fabric between them. A pair of boxers, his orange space jump suit, and an atom-thin suit of xenonite. Grace still feels his breath catch, as the pressure traps his cock against his own body now.
The sensitivity is off. Not…off, but it’s… more. More sensitive than he should be just from something pressing against his groin like this. His entire body lights up from it, pleasure zipping up his spine right to his brain.
He feels the way his lashes flutter, a soft moan tumbling out of his slack mouth as his chin drops to his chest. Rocky bumps into him, gentle, but still solid. A smooth, careful grind against his crotch and Grace can’t even snap his legs closed to try and hide from how good that feels.
Rocky hums at him again and when Rocky’s body leans forward, grinding into him, Grace can’t even get his brain to work to think about the pleasure that seizes him. All he can do is feel and take it.
He swears that he’s totally finished. Pack it up and close it. That there will be a mess of cum in his pants to clean up later, to get embarrassed about as he comes back to his senses. But it’s not wet like he thought. Oh.
He’d had a dry orgasm then. Or somehow Rocky took control of his ability to orgasm too. Dangerous power to wield, all things considering.
Those ‘all things’ being that Grace needs to cum. Suddenly. Like, now. His entire body is hot with pleasure, zaps through his nervous system that make his legs numb and his fingertips feel like they’re missing. His head is so heavy and there’s a twinge in his lower back from how he keeps bucking his hips and twisting at the waist trying to fight his own body.
The one hand he still has control over, he uses to pull Rocky against him. More pressure, making sure to keep him steady as Grace bucks his hips and grinds forward to meet the Eridian. Not that Grace’s measly human bodyweight could move Rocky. He’s heavy, strong, solid.
Oh God. He’s so hard it aches, he can’t even think about getting himself free from his pants, or about getting skin on skin of his own hand.
He just wants Rocky, steady and solid and warm and grinding and grinding and— vibrating.
Grace’s next moan trembles. It’s not a very intense vibration, but it’s enough that he can feel it through to his cock, the way it’s shaking out any remaining cognizant thoughts straight from the mush in his brain.
The pitch of the notes and rattling changes, and Grace loses his ability to control his own hands again. Blurry visioned as he watches his hands press themselves off to the sides, invisible restraints that keep him open and vulnerable.
His legs too, held open by Rocky’s singing, and steadied by the claws pressing into the soft give of his inner thighs. One set of claws moves to take Grace’s shirt and pull it up his chest, revealing the pale skin of his belly and chest. A beacon of soft, unmarred flesh that highlights how vulnerable he is right now, that Rocky’s tough, solid claw or leg could do some very not good things to him and his squishy human organs and he can’t even lift a single finger to protect himself…
“Good good. Grace is very good. So soft, pleasing to look at. Rocky’s favorite human. Good good good.”
Grace whimpers behind his trembling lips.
He could cry, just from the praise alone.
That is all he has ever wanted to be, good. Good enough. Good for someone.
The tremble in his legs takes over his entire body as he hurtles dangerously fast towards the edge. He knows all it would take is one final nudge, and the chittering, pretty melodies of song thrumming in his head keeps him pliant and soft despite how badly he just wants to hold on. His arms remain hauntingly limp either side of himself, not even a finger twitch as he stares at them hoping he could even lift just one to hold onto Rocky, urge him closer…
His tongue isn’t working either, but Grace doesn’t know if that’s Rocky taking away his ability to speak or if it’s just a consequence of how close he is.
Not that it matters. All of his thoughts are fleeting and brief. They happen and then just as fast as he thinks them, they’re gone. It means his primary focus is the body against his own, the buck of his hips into Rocky now stuttering off-rhythm.
Grace can’t find his words, maybe he would be begging if he remembered what vowels and consonants and sounds made up such a process. But all that he knows how to do is make sound; wordless, animal sound. Want and pleasure are monosyllabic, moans that fall off his tongue and heavy breaths that end with whining or choked off gasps.
Forget needing a hand to jerk himself off, the unnatural heightened sensitivity of his body gives him all the stimulation he needs just against the fabric of his own boxers, and the pressing grinding motion of Rocky.
And Rocky, well he’s not entirely unaffected by the display. At first it was just to benefit Grace. Just to settle the human stress and high cortisol and high epinephrine. Shutting out the raging thoughts in Grace’s brain was the easy part, getting him to actually, physically relax was the challenge.
Not so much anymore. All he has to do is sing a few notes, hum and chirp just the right pitch and Grace’s body slumps, muscles unwound and body pliant. Grace’s arousal is simply a bonus. Something of a reward for the both of them.
Rocky hadn’t meant to, didn't even know they could, but somewhere in the middle of it all, they had begun to thrum. A connection deeper than just a shared song. Grace’s pleasure was not something that he simply watched anymore, Rocky could sense it in their shared connection.
The pleasure was communal between them, Rocky’s insides boiling with it. His vents popped, rattling with each slip of notes and chatter. Grace’s peak is a smooth, upwards crest until it pops. The human against him makes a short, burst of a noise. Pretty. A moan that cracks his voice in a way that Rocky can’t help but purr at.
Grace’s cock throbs wildly between them as he releases, still trapped in his clothes. No matter really. Rocky wanted this. The rumbling drops lower in pitch as he takes Grace by the hips and scoots closer to the human. Bodily pressing him back into the xenonite nest. Pressure, purring, thrumming.
It’s a melt of mercury inside of his carapace now, boiling over to steam with nowhere to go as it builds and builds inside of his circulatory system. It overflows into an ooze. Where all his hard, rough edges and very being feels like it’s molten into the softest of sediment, liquefied with his own climax that makes Rocky stutter and his song grow choppy, voice and thrum cracking.
Rocky shudders as Grace’s climax begins to fade. His human is still shivery soft with pleasure, making sweet noises as his lungs expand and squeeze quickly. Rocky makes sure to tell Grace how good he’s doing, even if the praise is quite simple. Hard to be creative when Rocky is also finding thoughts hard to filter into anything understandable with words.
When Grace’s breathing isn’t so intense or fast, Rocky leans off of him. Just enough to not be so crushing. Rocky can’t see it, but Grace stares at the small pink mark his carapace has left against his solar plexus where he had been leaning against him heavily. A little pressure mark, already beginning to fade.
Both of them take a minute to just breathe, collect themselves and enjoy the cooldown. Grace is still slack and open and…
Rocky wishes he could share an egg with him, in the collective of their nest, between their warm bodies, together together together.
Grace moans again, a small, weak thing as his head drops back and rolls from one shoulder to the other. Rocky forgot that the human was still sensitive, realizes that he’d begun to grind in between his Grace’s legs again to stimulate the sensitive half-hard organ still trapped in soft clothes.
In their shared mind, Rocky feels Grace’s oversensitivity, and the bursts of oxytocin smoothing his mind. Fascinating creature full of endorphins and hormones and chemicals changing him on a molecular level. Rocky purrs, praise shared between their minds and he shuffles in to position his carapace on top of Grace’s lap.
A more solid connection.
The pitch of his tone changes, just enough to give Grace control of his arms again, and they immediately wrap around Rocky entirely. Grace's breathing is shaking, every exhale wobbling or coming out with a whimpering moan.
Oh please, Grace begs in their thrum, loose, wet, undone.
Rocky allows him more control, just a gentle give of slack on his mind to allow Grace’s hips to move. He immediately curls his fingers into fists against Rocky, arms flexing as he clings tighter, and begins to rub himself on the smooth flat side of Rocky’s carapace.
Good, good. Feels very good, Rocky encourages, and Grace practically curls over top of him, cheek pressed to the top of Rocky’s carapace. It must put much strain on his back, but there isn’t any pain between them or discomfort...
Grace is sniffling, leaking slowly from his face. Both eyes and the corner of his mouth. Rocky would tease him for being so clingy, but Grace’s pleasure is strong and bright and consuming their thrum. Rocky is finding it increasingly difficult to concentrate.
I can’t, Grace whimpers between them, and Rocky immediately feels an edge of desperation cutting deeper the more Grace humps at him. He wants to climax again, but his body is too oversensitive.
You can’t, but I will make you, Rocky reassures him, and steadies his human’s lower back with two arms looped around his waist. Rocky chitters, changes the song softly, slowly, and settles the nerves in Grace’s body.
Rocky chitters, a grumbling, low buzz as his entire carapace jitters from the change he can feel too. Grace’s hips don’t ever stop, thrusting and grinding forward in small, shallow motions, but when Rocky allows his body’s sensitivity to dull, Grace’s moan grows louder, lower…
Yes–! Grace’s mind slips, like a blip of consciousness, and then his body twitches and twitches and twitches. Rocky holds him through it, purring as Grace’s next climax takes him too.
Rocky wants to see. And so he does not allow Grace the choice, song echoing in their small space, and Grace’s arms and hands move away. Grace hiccups with the loss of touch, whining as his arms cross over his own head, wrists laid across each other. He doesn’t even have the dignity of his own fingertips, and they lay loose instead of the fists he desperately wants to clench to keep hold of his sanity.
Rocky accidentally rips the fabric collar of Grace’s t-shirt as he tugs it up across one shoulder, stretching the seams beyond their limits.. He can see through Grace’s human clothing, but it’s purest like this. Raw. Watching the fragile but strong human chest smooth and bare expanding and contracting with his frantic breaths and stuttering as his diaphragm catches on his moans and cries.
Inside, just under a thin line of skin and flat bone and ribs, Grace’s heart pounds and beats and pumps just as frantically. Rocky’s clicks become a low, subvocal droning. Clickclickclick, entranced with the view of Grace’s very life beating excited and strong because of Rocky.
A shaking claw flattens against Grace’s sternum. It is no longer enough for the Eridian to receive the vibrations of sound through the air to see it. Rocky must feel the beating with his own being. Connection solid to feel the thump thump thump right there in the grasp of his claws.
Grace moans and moans and shakes and breathes. Rocky holds him down through it, physically and mentally.
When the shock of climax ebbs away again, slower this time, more exhausting, Rocky gently, gently, gently gives Grace his body back. Starts at his peripheries, hands and feet, then limbs, joints, his head, his mouth.
“Oh God,” Grace wheezes, verbal for the first time in….
He slumps into the xenonite nest, and Rocky takes it as an invitation to snuggle into Grace’s soft belly and hips, careful to not put his entire weight on him and crush him entirely.
Their thrum fades beautifully. Soft and comforting in a way Rocky has only ever felt with Adrian. He chitters, praise and content and many things positive he cannot articulate well other than feeling. Grace must understand, his face splits into a smile, and he heaves a tired breath, but lets a hand come down to pat Rocky a few times.
“That was actually crazy,” Grace chuckles, “I could understand you. Like, in my head. Or that was like. More than that, more than my head we were–”
“Thrumming.” Rocky corrects.
“...How is that even possible? I’m not even close to an Eridian.”
Rocky gives the best shrugging motion he can while Grace snuggles with him. A fun human gesture. Humans so very expressive with their faces and voices and bodies to communicate with their eye vision. Rocky buzzes with a small, quiet praise. He likes his human very very much.
Grace suddenly asks, “did I break you somehow? You’re being all…sappy.”
Rocky makes sure to put some snark in his next bubble of noises and chitters.
“Grace experiencing after mating response. Eridians solidify connection and bond with vulnerability and sincerity.”
“Mating,” Grace says with a soft of pitch to his voice. Rocky cannot see the blush coloring the human’s face, but he knows what embarrassment sounds like on Grace’s voice. And he also knows what Grace sounds like when he likes the sound of something.
“Rocky Grace special bond. Like mate…” Rocky feels nervous suddenly, claws tapping quickly against the floor and each other, worry, suddenly, that maybe he took advantage of Grace, “...if that is okay, question?”
“What about… Adrian? They’re your mate.”
“Eridian can take multiple mate. Form cluster. Normal. Humans no have multiple mates, question?”
“Uh… they can– we can. It’s just not the norm. Not that it’s not normal, uh, like, it’s just unpopular. Humans tend to mate for life, one partner. Or have multiple for short term relationships. Some humans are polyamorous though… Complicated things.”
“Grace uncomfortable being Rocky mate.”
“That’s not it. Ugh– It’s hard to talk to you when my pants are all… Ugh. No, yeah I want to… I like the idea of being your mate, Rock. I just don’t want to impose or… you know what we talked about before, humans have a lot of very clear and solid boundaries that we do not like to cross.”
Grace sits himself halfway up, and feels himself flush with embarrassment at the way his arms start to actually shake just from holding himself up on them. He can tell if he tried to stand up, his legs would do the exact same.
Rocky makes an unflattering almost burping grating noise. Grace understands the combination of exasperation and frustration. Usually when Grace is making things more complicated than they need to be. He can’t help it, okay! There’s a lot to think about and–!
“Should not have given Grace ability to think back. Rocky experiment later with how much Grace can be limit on with thoughts. Grace not able to just say yes or no to be mate. Have to explain or talk and talk and talk and—”
“Yes. Okay, yes, I freaking want to be your mate! Cut it out, you’re such a jerk.” Grace drops his tomato-red face right against Rocky, like he could hide there. He can feel the low bass of Rocky’s clicks to see him. So much for hiding. Whatever, it feels good like this.
Rocky makes a happy noise though with the confirmation, and gently presses two of his arms against Grace’s sides. A very gentle, and bumpy hug, but a hug nonetheless.
“Yes. Good, good, good. Rocky Grace mates now. Happy. Happy. Happy. Have more mating sessions. Thrum together.”
Jeez. Always so excitable, this guy.
Grace takes a deep, heavy breath and sits back off of Rocky entirely now. Space between him as the adrenaline of his orgasms is going away and he can feel his muscles all sore and his throat is raw from…
“We can talk about that later. For now. I seriously need to clean this mess up in my pants, please. It’s starting to bother me.”
Rocky chirps in excitement and suddenly two claws grab him at the waistband of his jumpsuit and boxers.
“Wait. Grace let Rocky see first. Human release fluid when mating, Rocky must see.”
Grace knows he isn’t stronger than Rocky, but he’s stupidly reaching down to grab the hem of his pants and boxers in retaliation, yanking, fighting against Rocky pulling them down.
“Noooo nono, it’s messy and very gross I’m going to bathe and get rid of it you don’t need to see it you weirdo.”
However, Grace watches as his hands suddenly let go, and his body twists itself, both hands now flat against the xenonite cradle wall, and his thighs come together, no fuss or issue as Rocky yanks his pants down to his knees and leaves him as bare as the day he was born.
The droning whale song is strong and steady.
“Hey! This is cheating. You– You can’t just manipulate me whenever you want to get your way, this is–”
“Can manipulate Grace. Rocky doing it now. Easy. Grace not even able to fight it.”
…shhhhhhitake mushrooms.
Rocky’s carapace straightens up on his legs. Grace knows he saw the way his cock twitched. Clocked him immediately. Oh no no no–
“Grace like being powerless. Grace like Rocky controlling him. Statement. Observation. Arousal, see.” A claw hovers above his cum-soaked cock, halfhard between his legs.
He can’t even hide it, and he certainly can’t think of anything smart to start arguing his case. May he plead the fifth?
Grace feels himself moving, Rocky’s tone shifts, the song changes, and Grace, entirely out of his control, rolls smoothly to his hands and knees. Grace bites his cheek so hard he can taste blood, to keep himself from whimpering.
“O-okay, wait. Wait wait wait, Rocky. Humans have a refractory period, you know, and it hurts if–”
“Have already proven that does not matter. Rocky can make Grace body finish.”
Grace drops his head. His stomach is so hot he feels like maybe he could just cum again from how Rocky is talking to him. Firm, unyielding. Oh god he doesn’t even need to touch him to make him behave.
Rocky still hasn’t silenced the part of his brain that allows him to run his mouth and Grace takes full advantage of it. (Not knowing he’s only digging his grave deeper).
“Humans can die from too many orgasms.”
“Liar. Grace lie. Grace will not die from one more…”
He could argue that he very much is not lying thank you very flippin' much!! The way Rocky is carefully touching his cock from between his thighs makes his brain short-circuit. Or maybe that’s Rocky manipulating his sensitivity again?
By some miracle, Grace does not die. Imagine that.
Rocky can control his body, can control his mind, can control his sensitivity and feelings.
Rocky can also bring him right to the edge of death, and bring him back from it. Three orgasms so close is too much, but Rocky makes him and it’s so hot Grace won’t be able to think about anything else for a long…long time.