Chapter Text
Grace paced restlessly across the short span of the dormitory. He stared intently at the airlock, willing it to cool down to human temperatures faster. Inside sat a small circular disk. It frankly looked a bit ridiculous just sitting there on the floor, all this atmospheric pomp and circumstance going on inside the complex chamber just to pass over something barely larger than a quarter.
Yesterday, Grace had sat down beside Rocky's workshop area and watched intently as he laid out several test pieces of different xenonite formulations. They'd been giddy; Rocky to explain the differences and Grace to watch Rocky’s expertise in action. For their current project, the only property needed was optical in nature, but Grace had been thrilled enough to listen about the differences in their responses to mechanical and thermal stressors.
In the end, Grace chose a formulation that led to a metallic sheen, reminiscent of polished steel. It had been hard to describe the appeal of shininess to someone without sight, but Rocky had calmly insisted that he really didn't need to know why Grace wanted what he wanted, only what he wanted so that Rocky could provide.
Spoiled, spoiled, spoiled Grace was.
The nice thing about the xenonite’s two-part-epoxy nature was that it had a curing time during which it was moldable. Rocky took full advantage of that fact to add a ‘small addition’ that he insisted should be a surprise. So here Grace was, practically vibrating with anxious excitement as he wore tracks into the dormitory floor.
“Temperature should be safe to the touch now,” Rocky reported.
Grace immediately ripped open the airlock door like it was a Christmas present. He dove for the disc on the floor and yelped in surprise as his fingers brushed searing metal, nearly flinging the small token across the room.
“I said safe, not comfortable.”
“You jerk!” Grace admonished before trying again, this time with his fingers carefully wrapped in the fabric of his shirt.
Recessed on the front of the tag was what they had discussed; Latin letters spelling out ‘GRACE’ in an elegant sans serif font. At the top, a small loop served as a method of attachment to the collar. On the back… Grace struggled to understand what he was looking at. A triangular shape was pressed into the face of the name tag, leaving an irregular imprint full of ripples and small bumps.
“What is…?” Grace mumbled, glancing up at Rocky to search for an explanation. He was greeted by the sight of Rocky’s carapace tilted toward him expectantly, one hand splayed open on the tunnel walls to display the triangular, bumpy shape of his fingers.
Grace swallowed thickly.
“Oh. Oh.”
He looked back down to the tag in his hands and carefully extricated it from the folds of fabric he'd been using as oven mitts. Thankfully, the exposure to the dorm's chilly air had cooled it rapidly, and he could handle it without discomfort. He cradled the little disc in the palm of his left hand and used the right to press the pad of his thumb into the center of the fingerprint, feeling the bumpy texture catch against the whorls of his own. It was still warm to the touch.
“Is good surprise?” Grace took a moment to be proud of himself for recognizing the Eridian cadence as ‘smug’.
Grace was beaming, and his voice was already wet with tears when he replied, “Amazing surprise.”
~~~
They were rushing into things, Grace knew that. If they were conducting a real controlled experiment, they would add variables one at a time so that nothing was confounding. They had nothing if not time, there shouldn't ever be a rush. Rushing notoriously led to mistakes and miscommunications and all the bad things that they couldn't afford. This was dangerous. He was putting too much weight on how this went, and he couldn't even figure out why. If this went poorly, it would go catastrophically. He could just feel it.
Grace’s hand rose to the tag dangling from his collar, pinching it between his thumb and curled forefinger. His thumb slotted neatly into the fingerprint at the back, worrying at its texture. He took several deep breaths and focused on the ridges and bumps sliding across the sensitive pad of his thumb and thought about silly things like indirect kisses through soda cans.
A mistake here would not cause a shockwave so strong it knocked him off his feet and his life off its course. A miscommunication here would lead to some bruised feelings and a chance to reconcile, not the end of something he could never get back. There was risk involved, of course, but he trusted Rocky. They had prepared thoroughly, as much as they could think of. Dos and don'ts had been discussed, boundaries had been felt out, a safeword designated, a general plan for the scene had been plotted, even specific translations had been worked out: a domesticated Eridian animal chosen as a stand-in for ‘puppy’ and an Eridian term of endearment for someone rambunctious substituted for ‘boy’. Things would be okay, he repeated to himself.
“You are ready?”
His hand dropped from his collar self-consciously as Rocky called from the lab above, which was ridiculous, because Rocky could see everything all the time. He had appreciated the illusion of privacy regardless, though, as he'd set up his pillow nest, gathered the necessities, stripped off his clothes, and put his collar on. He had felt the anticipation and tension building with each preparation, and having somebody else in the room might've spooked him too much.
“Yeah, I'm ready.”
Rocky clambered down his tunnel through the bulkhead and came to stand, as always, in his favorite spot beside the bed.
“How do you feel?”
Grace let out a harsh breath through pursed lips and shifted his weight from foot to foot, hands tangling behind his back. “Uh. Nervous? But excited.”
Rocky gestured nonchalantly with a claw towards Grace’s naked form. “Mating organ not swelling like you are excited.”
Grace's face flared with heat, and he crossed his legs as if that would preserve his modesty. “Yeah, that would be because of the nervousness. And the cold room.”
“Does not mean you want to stop and try again later?”
“No. I want to do this.” Grace directed himself to uncross his legs and bring his arms down at his sides. “Can we start?”
“Yes, we begin now. Lie down on the bed.”
Grace complied, plodding over to the bed while trying not to feel hyper aware of the length of his limbs or the racing of his pulse. He sank into the bedding with an anticipatory shiver, feeling Rocky's panoramic gaze more acutely than normal. He twisted the sheets between his fingers, willing them not to fidget.
“Good.”
Grace swallowed.
“Are you comfortable?”
“Yes.”
“Yes, what?”
“Yes, h–handler.” Grace tripped over the new term, rolling it awkwardly off his tongue. It brought blood rushing close to the surface of his cheeks anyway.
“Good puppy.”
Grace’s next breath caught for a fraction of a second before whooshing out of him quickly in a rush. His knees drew up, thighs dusted with coarse hair brushing against the soft length of him giving its first twitch of interest. His eyes didn’t leave Rocky, who settled himself into a comfortable position with all five limbs tucked underneath him. It was almost startling, after growing used to Rocky's hands always fidgeting with something, to see all of them tucked away. It meant he had the full brunt of Rocky's attention aimed squarely at him and him alone.
“I am going to give you instructions now like we talked about, and you are going to follow them, correct?”
“Yes, handler. I trust you.”
Rocky gave a pleased trill in reply. “Good. It can be so hard to get you to do things, even when they are for your own benefit. It will be good for you to stop thinking and let me take care of you. Now, will you spread out your legs and start touching yourself? You are not normally so shy.”
Grace’s shoulder rose to his ears even as he did as instructed, lowering his knees and untangling his right hand from the bedding to cup the silky, soft length of himself.
“Sorry, handler. Now what?”
“Do not apologize, Grace, there is no need. Just do as I say now. Get yourself fully excited, do whatever you need.” Rocky’s tone was smoothly confident in a way Grace wasn't used to. It shook him in a way that wasn't unpleasant.
Grace took one more steadying breath before following orders. He grimaced as he spit into his palm, but let the expression fall as he took himself in hand. He squeezed and stroked methodically, feeling his body grow aware of the arousal curling in his gut. This part was familiar, even if the charged trepidation in his chest and the close hug of the collar around his neck wasn’t. The tension wasn’t bad, just unfamiliar in a way that brought his attention down on it, dragging it to the forefront of his brain.
Throughout their entire relationship, Rocky and Grace had found themselves on mostly equal footing. Even when that footing was unsure, they had been in the same boat (or ship, ha), working together to find more stable ground. They each brought their own strengths and weaknesses, balanced out nicely by the other and bound together by their mutual respect. Now, with Grace willingly ceding control for this brief moment in time, the difference in the balance of power was brought into sharp relief in a way that caused unfamiliar currents to swirl in the back of Grace’s mind. He did his best to let them wash over him, smoothing over his raised hackles and pulling his thoughts into a sluggish, more lax mode.
The collar helped, in a way. Its constant presence against his skin was a physical reminder of where he had been placed for the time being: into Rocky’s care. He didn’t need to worry about doing anything for himself just now, that wasn’t his job anymore. He just had to follow the orders given to him, and Rocky would make sure everything was good for him. The soft friction of the fabric pressing lightly against his throat felt equal parts restraining and freeing in ways he both couldn’t and didn’t want to bother picking apart at that moment. The cool metal clinking at the hollow of his throat was another reminder that, for as long as he wore it, he was owned by another.
The thought brought a wave of something cold, something akin to fear welling up from the base of his animal hindbrain.
“You are thinking, Grace, I can tell. Talk to me.”
“I, uh… It's hard to use words right now.” His voice was already so wrecked, he noticed as he spoke. It was heavy and wavery with emotion, breathy with pleasure, and rough with use all at once. It was just then that he belatedly realized he'd been letting out a stream of noises as he had touched himself. That awareness spiked a wave of embarrassment through him, even as his cock twitched in his grip. Rocky gave a soothing whistle.
“I know, sweet puppy, but I know something is bothering you. Your sweet noises changed.”
Another flush of embarrassment made his cheeks burn as Grace realized he was that easy to read. It was mortifying, to a degree. It also made some animal part of him purr in satisfaction to know Rocky was paying so much attention to his every move and response. His grip tightened a fraction, left hand creasing the sheets and right hand delivering maddening pressure.
“I was thinking about the collar. About being–” his voice broke on a moan as he twisted his fingers over the sensitive spot just under the head of his cock, “–owned by you.”
Rocky took a moment to consider his next words, motionless in thought. When he did finally speak, his words felt carefully neutral in tone, and some yearning, yawning thing inside Grace mourned the loss of his easy, confident cadence from before. “Do you dislike this idea?”
“No,” Grace answered honestly, desperately. Rocky tilted his carapace to the side, mimicking his human gesture of curiosity.
“But it scares you.”
“It… feels a little dangerous. Vulnerable.”
“Do you trust me?”
“Yes, handler.” Grace sighed, desperate for Rocky’s steady commands to wash over him again.
Rocky made a few whistles of contemplation.
“I think I understand. I will prove to you that you are safe under my care.”
A relieved sound left Grace as he felt himself relax a fraction more into the mattress. It felt like Rocky had a preternatural ability to discern exactly what he needed to hear, but he wasn’t going to question it when it felt this good.
“Beautiful things deserve to be kept safe, to be protected. That collar shows everyone that you are mine and that you are under my protection.”
“Yes,” Grace affirmed, heart thrilling at the idea and pulse racing against the collar where it pressed to his neck. He leaned his head back into the pillows, baring his throat.
“Beautiful things also deserve to be shown off, to be decorated with pretty things to match your beautiful body. The way your form moves fascinates me. You deserve to be draped in ornaments that show that off. Did you like the way you looked when you first saw your collar on you?”
“Yes, handler,” Grace admitted, preening at the memory of that first glance in the memory, the deep violet wrapped around the column of his throat and moving with every swallow. His hand sped up, chasing the waves of pleasure coming faster and faster with time.
“Good. Beautiful things deserve to be taken care of, to be handled like the valuable things they are. You are so soft and delicate, I’d wrap you up and protect you from everything bad in the universe if I could.”
Grace grew only vaguely aware of the string of praise that continued to flow from Rocky as he shamelessly spit into his hand again, making sure the glide was slick in a way that made his toes curl. Rocky was saying such sweet things, it felt like Grace’s brain wasn’t designed to hold it all, not when his body was growing taut like a bow string. Every muscle tensed as his moans grew louder, toes curling and balls pulling close to his body. The tension grew, hurtling toward the release he ached for. Of course, Rocky noticed even when he didn’t say that he was close.
“Stop. Take your hands away, now.”
Grace obeyed before he even fully registered what had been asked of him. His hands flew away from himself with a resolve he didn’t know he had, even as his hips lifted into the air, desperate to chase the feeling. His cock slapped back down onto his lower stomach with a soft sound that he could barely hear over his own choked noises. He feared for a terrifying moment that that slight moment of sensation would be enough to drive him over the edge, leaving him pathetically dribbling cum over his own stomach, untouched. A ruined orgasm would’ve been miserable, but disappointing Rocky would’ve been unbearable. Grace writhed, fighting against the tension still miserably coiling low in his belly. Eventually, the tightness at the base of his cock eased, and he felt the perilously close edge fade away. He sagged against the bed, feeling desperate and hazy-minded. Rocky gave his carapace a thrilled shake of excitement, pleased.
“Good puppy. You did so well, I know that took strength.”
Grace’s cock twitched as he gave an aching, tortured whine in response. It was a struggle to slow his open-mouthed panting down into something resembling normal breathing. He hadn’t realized he’d squeezed his eyes shut until he had to put in the effort to open them again. They gave one dazed roll around the room before finally settling on Rocky again, awaiting instruction. His pupils were blown, black swallowing the blue of his irises. “Please, handler, I was so close…”
“I know, my sweet Grace, but we are not done yet. I have so much more to tell you. You can finish when I tell you, not a second before.”
Grace unsuccessfully bit back a groan of frustration, but he still answered, “Yes, handler,” dutifully. They were quickly becoming his favorite words in spite of the obstinance still fighting for purchase in his thoughts. Some logical part of his brain, reduced to a fraction of itself in his current state, wondered if he liked them because they steamrolled right over the stubbornness that came naturally to him.
“Good. I want you to touch yourself again, but only when you feel you are no longer close to finishing.”
Grace did succeed in giving only a mildly tortured noise of assent before rolling onto his side to bury his face into the pillows. He inhaled deeply, feeling the resistance of the air through the pillow, forcing his breaths to slow. Eyes closed and turned away from the always strong dormitory lights, he quickly found himself adrift in the swirl of nebulous sensations inside his own mind. Grace had never been one to meditate, but he wondered if what he was feeling was something similar. Thoughts bubbled up only half-formed before slipping away under the current of… whatever it was that was wrapping his mind in warm, fuzzy cotton. His whole body felt loose and thrumming, even as time began to unwind the tight coil of arousal previously threatening to tip him into cumming. It all felt so good, and Rocky was guiding him through it all, keeping him safe and happy, and that felt even better.
Grace wouldn't have been able to say how much time had passed before Rocky spoke up again, tone gentle.
“Have you calmed down enough to begin again?”
Grace blinked his eyes open sluggishly and rolled back, stretching out to feel the glorious movement of his own lax muscles, warmed with lazy arousal that no longer felt so pressing. Christ, he felt high.
“Yes, handler, can I please touch myself again?”
“Of course, puppy, make yourself feel good,” Rocky permitted, rearranging his tangle of limbs to be a fraction closer to the xenonite wall.
Grace gave an almost sleepy whine and reached down to paw at himself again. He was still hard against his own hip, cock flushed and hot. The firm pressure against the sensitive skin stoked the flames of his arousal and he relished the way sparks of pleasure raced under his skin. He paused only briefly to lick his palm, rewetting it with the saliva that had been gathering on his lolling tongue. He started up a slower, steadier rhythm than before, taking long strokes that traveled all the way from base to tip each time. Racing to the finish was no longer his focus, not with Rocky's directive in place, so instead he melted into the mattress, cherishing the feeling of each individual bump of his fingers as they slid over the head of his cock in both directions.
Rocky observed him quietly until some unknowable metric of his had apparently been surpassed and he began his praise once more.
“Good boy, you are not rushing like before. You are always so smart, you figured out exactly what I wanted before I even asked it of you.”
Grace let a small self-pleased smile tug at the corner of his lips, drinking in Rocky’s words until they filled every corner of his hollowed-out thoughts. He palmed at the head of his cock, shuddering at the rough friction.
“There is so much I could say about you. Always so clever, there is not a problem you can not solve. It is a wonder to watch you at work, so competent.”
A shiver born of warmth rippled across his skin, sensitive to more than just the slick slide of his hand.
“But beyond your intellect, you are kind. So eager, so excitable, so overflowing with empathy and openness. I want to spoil you after everything you have done for me.”
It felt like Rocky was finding every fissure in his armor and probing straight through to the soft spots. Or maybe it was more apt to say that he'd peeled off the armor entirely and held the soft center of him in his claws. Either way, it made him buck into his own fist.
“My selfless, daring, courageous Grace. So brave for me.”
The words landed soft at first, nestled in with all the other things that Grace was hoarding close to his heart. When they parsed finally, fighting through the syrup-like current of his mind, they struck dully. They pushed through the gauzy warmth and landed like a stone at the bottom of a river, waking up parts of him he so desperately wanted to stay quiet as they crashed against the obstacle in their path.
Grace knew at once, before Rocky even said anything, that he had to have noticed a change in Grace when the words sunk in. He barely had time to react himself, and yet he knew he was caught before he could say a word. He wondered distantly what Rocky watched for a change in; if it was something as simple as watching the tensing of his body or something deeper like the squeeze of his heart and hitch of his lungs. His skin was never enough to stop him from being laid bare before Rocky's notice. It was exposing in a way he hated far less than he loved, even as he felt flayed.
“What is it, pup? Do you not think you are brave?”
Grace gave a non-committal hum, hazy eyes glancing at the far wall in avoidance. He had never been instructed to agree. Rocky raised to his feet, suddenly animated with conviction.
“You are! You are braver than anyone else I know. So brave that everyone can see it. I am so proud to have such a brave thing like you with my collar around your neck.”
Grace’s right hand hesitated in its pace even as the left reached up to tug at the metallic tag hanging from his neck. The smooth xenonite was warm between his fingers, heated by the skin at the hollow of his throat where it had lain. His thumb slipped easily into the divot of Rocky’s fingerprint, pinching to feel the ridges press into the soft give of his flesh. Rocky lifted a hand to press it against the wall of the tunnel, as if reminding him of the connection. Maybe if Grace pressed hard enough, the shape of Rocky’s hand would be imprinted into his thumb when he pulled it away.
“You have accomplished such amazing things, my pup, you deserve this reward. You deserve such pleasure for all that you have done for others. My courageous, selfless, brave Grace.”
Instinctually, Grace wanted to protest, to reject the flood of loaded compliments being handed to him so casually. He hadn’t done anything to deserve such kind words, not after what he knew he’d done. Rocky didn’t know what he was saying, didn’t know how wrong he was. Grace had never told him what a coward he had been, and – oh, what a coward that made him to never bring it up. The dark, heavy thoughts reared their ugly heads, but even as Grace’s mind railed against the gift of that stolen valor, his body sang with it. His heart raced, soaring and aching in equal turns, hanging off of every note he heard. The bright flash of pleasure punched through the harsh doubt flooding through him, making it taste even sweeter in comparison. He was beyond the point of caring what it made him that he grasped greedily at it without hesitation and with everything he had. His hand resumed its rhythmic touch and stroked even faster than before. Sparks raced down his spine, making every slide of his fingers grow staggeringly good. Flushes of heat licked over his skin in waves, leaving him overheated and sweating. The wobbly kind of haze finally returned to slip over his thoughts, turning them deliciously hard to grasp until the thought of disagreeing with Rocky felt increasingly impossible
He wanted to believe him. He wanted so badly to believe in himself the same way Rocky believed in him.
The thought bloomed in him at the same time as it shot white-hot heat straight to the tight coil in the pit of his stomach, urging him towards the precipice once more with shocking speed. Without being asked, Grace snatched his hands back to his chest. Rocky made a pleased noise of surprise at the same time Grace's mouth opened to plead.
“Please. Please, Rocky, handler, please, I need it,” Grace sobbed pitifully, hips twitching uselessly forward into the air. Once again, his words were fleeing him, but he was sure Rocky could figure out what he meant by the tension seizing his body for a second time. He was leaking more precum than he thought he could, and his cock shone an angry red with it where it twitched against his hip in time to his pulse. He felt like all his willpower was long gone, none remaining after letting his mind cave to the fantasy of being someone Rocky could believe in. The only thing keeping his hands pinned to his heaving chest and not working himself that last little distance over the point of no return was the weight of Rocky’s expectation. He felt pinned in place by his previous command alone, no restraints needed.
“You may finish, but only once you follow my command.”
He whined, head thrashing back and forth on the pillows. “Don't make me say it.”
“You will not get what you want until you do.”
“Fine, yes, I'm brave!” He cried, trembling, feeling like he was shaking apart. The desperation was maddening, thrumming through his body like static. His whole being felt like one raw nerve, exposed to the open air and mercilessly worked over.
“Oh my perfect sweet Grace, you are! So brave for me, so good for me always.”
Grace whined, high-pitched and nasally. It didn't feel like the edge of his orgasm had retreated at all. He rode the edge, pinned in place and threatening to fall apart.
“Yes, please, I've been good, handler, please!” Grace gasped out the words between heaving breaths, frantic and shining with the praise and shaking and so, so close.
“You have, sweet puppy, you have been such a good boy for me, so much better than I could have ever expected. Do you want your reward now?”
“Please, please, please, Rocky.” His words cut off with a heaving sob, body arching and writhing and moving in ways he couldn't pay attention to other than the fact that his cock throbbed with every heartbeat, neglected, and the edge was right there, and he needed permission like he needed air.
“I am so proud of you, my sweet boy, my brave Grace, you have listened so well. You may finish now, whenever you would like. You sound so beautiful when you do, let me hear you.” Rocky purred, fondness tinging every note in his song.
Grace’s hand flew to his cock like a man possessed. He yelped at his own overstimulation from the pace even as he bucked up into the sensation. It took maybe three seconds before he tumbled over the edge, lost.
Grace was not a religious man, but if there was any way for the human body to have a spiritual experience, he was sure he was in the depths of one. Colors danced behind his eyelids as he shook, overwhelmed with pleasure so good it bordered on pain. He cried out with every wave ripping through him, body ecstatic with the feeling. The Hail Mary could implode at that very moment and Grace was certain he would neither notice nor care because nothing mattered when he felt this mind-numbingly good. He moved on instinct, hand milking with each pulse of his cock to wring out every drop he could. It was the longest, deepest orgasm he’d ever had, without a doubt. He felt cored out, even as the subsiding final waves were still lapping at the edges of his consciousness. He kept going until the friction turned from pleasure to numbing pressure to the sting of overstimulation, desperate for it to keep him in its grasp forever. He finally relented when the pain overrode the pleasure and his hips twitched away of their own accord. He collapsed back into the mattress, releasing the arch from his spine and feeling all the tension leak from his body all at once.
Grace's senses trickled back to him one by one. It was like a pile of blankets peeling back layer by layer, letting the world flood back in increments. He shook in waves; the feeling of once again being exposed to the world in combination with the aftershocks still shivering through him was overwhelming. First came the perception of his breathing; heaving, ragged, but slowing down all the same. Then came his hearing; his own gasped out noises with each exhale that straddled the border between pleasured and pained with Rocky’s soothing sounds as a constant backdrop. If the notes were Eridian or just wordless murmurs, Grace couldn't tell, but he hung onto them like a lifeline regardless. Then, his sight; blurred and wavering with each blink, eyes struggling to focus where they peered at the ceiling. Finally, touch; soft sheets in a tangled mess, warm cum cooling over his fingers and stomach, hot tears streaking down his cheeks and into his hair. Oh. That's why he couldn't really see.
He blinked rapidly to push the tears from his eyes and his next shuddering breath caught with a hiccup. His brain finally recovered enough to tune into what Rocky was babbling with his whole carapace pressed to the xenonite, braced by two arms on either side.
“Grace, my friend, I am here, I am here, please don’t leak friend–”
Grace huffed out a wet, weak laugh weighed down with exhaustion and emotion both.
“Rocky, buddy, it’s ok, I’m…” He trailed off, trying to take stock of himself and his many frazzled parts. The room spun a little if he moved his head too fast, so he settled for matching his remaining clean hand up to one of Rocky’s against the tunnel wall and letting his eyes fall closed.
“...Is good leaking?”
Was it? Grace felt hollowed out; pleasantly drained, but so spent as to be pinned in place. At the same time, he felt absolutely weightless; drifting on currents of warmth, but floating unmoored. When he rolled onto his side to curl closer to Rocky, his hands and thighs shook in equal part. He felt… guilty, and loved, and safe, and mournful, and fucked out, and stupid, and warm. It was all so much, he didn’t think he could do anything but lay there and take it all. He moved to speak again, opening his mouth and preparing to say anything at all.
All that came out was a wheeze as the words eluded him. The end devolved into a self-deprecating laugh, and soon a sob. Rocky cried out in alarm as Grace curled fully into the xenonite wall, shoulders shaking as he was wracked by tears.
“Grace?! What is wrong?!” He tapped rapidly at the glass, though whether for emphasis or to try and echolocate some imagined injury, Grace wasn’t sure. Either way, his heart ached to see Rocky panicking as he was. He gathered himself enough to form words and forged forward.
“Nothing. Nothing’s wrong, I–” Grace’s speech was interrupted by a shuddering inhale, diaphragm spasming. “I promise, everything’s just a lot, I just…” Grace sniffed, pressing his forehead to the warm tunnel wall. “Will you sing for me?”
He barely had the words out before Rocky was tilting his carapace away from the wall. Grace almost complained about the distance before he realized Rocky was making sure he wasn’t about to sing directly next to Grace’s head.
Rocky started with some flowing melody he couldn’t name. He’d shown Rocky a lot of music in the past weeks, not all of it songs he was personally familiar with, and sometimes Rocky’s eidetic memory recalled snippets Grace couldn’t remember. It went on for a few minutes, Rocky’s whale calls vibrating through his chest and soothing some raw ache inside. Once the song finished, Rocky transitioned without hesitation into another song, some classical sonata or suite that Grace recognized but could never name. By the end of it, Grace had stopped shaking, and only a few tears slipped out quietly. He wondered, then, if it would be impolite of him to let Rocky continue onto a third song when he could probably get by without it.
Grace didn’t speak up.
Rocky moved on, whistling out the first few notes of Claire de lune. Grace sighed, lulled to relief. His breathing evened out as the piece launched into its different slow and expressive sections. Rocky continued, even as Grace rolled onto his other side to grab for the tissues. He cleaned himself up, stomach, hands, and face, before reaching for the water pouch he’d set aside earlier. The whole dormitory reverberated with music as Grace sat up to drink, repositioning the bedding to be more comfortable as he went. As the last notes faded away, Grace reclined fully into the pillows, face finally dry and breathing even. He still felt tender, bruised in a way he knew left him fragile, but at least he was grounded once again. The floaty feelings had subsided, leaving him sore but relaxed. He wondered if he should take the collar off too, to completely reset things to their normal state. He decided against it, at least for the time being. He didn’t want this atmosphere they had created together to drift away so soon.
“Thank you, Rocky.”
“Of course, I will help however I can.” Rocky settled as close as he could, hand pressed back once again. Grace matched it.
“Not just for the singing, for all of it.”
“...You enjoyed it? You leaked so much afterwards.”
“I know, but it was good. Really good. Cathartic. Oh, new word–”
“I have read the word before.” Rocky replied with amusement. Grace huffed and rolled his eyes.
“But yeah. It was amazing. I promise.”
Rocky made a relieved noise. An easy silence followed, and Grace found his eyes drooping as he listened to the rhythmic sound of Rocky’s puffing radiator vents. He wished he could bottle the feeling.
“I do have a question though.”
“Yes, Grace?”
“How in the absolute hell did you come up with all of that stuff? I swear, you had a script ready or something.”
Rocky gave an excited wiggle of his carapace that was so cute Grace wanted to cry. “So I spoke correctly? I am happy to hear!”
Grace’s brows furrowed into a suspicious squint even as he couldn't fight the smile upturning the corners of his mouth. “No yeah, it was absolutely perfect, which is why I am wondering how and when you learned to talk like that.”
Rocky stomped a foot, carapace lofted high in pride. “I have been doing more research as you sleep! I found many works of fiction with desirable scenarios to mimic. I copied their speech partners as best I could, adapting them to what I know about you where possible.”
“Oh Christ alive, he found the erotica,” Grace said, with the inflection of a man who knew he was absolutely screwed.
Rocky tittered and Grace fell asleep that night feeling a little lighter.