Chapter Text
It was an accident the first time.
(One could argue that it wasn't even an accident the first time. Grace could argue this, and he would argue this, probably questioning, how does someone masturbate accidentally??? To which Rocky would then point to Portable Earth Thinking Machine and bring up the many definitions of the very word accident—one being "lack of intention or necessity," which is what Rocky means in this particular case.)
…admittedly, it doesn't quite work. Rocky didn't start pleasuring himself accidentally after all—that was very intentional, as much as he'd hate to admit it, but he'd rather jump out of Mary's airlock than explain that to Grace.
So no, not quite an accident. Not exactly the word that fits this peculiar situation he's gotten himself into.
Rocky just didn't intend for it to go this far.
Up until that point—up until that very first time—Rocky had been good. He had been more than good—he had been pretty exceptional given the circumstances, if you ask him. The fact that he wasn't constantly overloaded with need and desire after Grace came back for him was a testament to how bad his self-control had gotten lately.
After Grace saved him (his leaky, emotional, brave, perfect human decided to risk his own life to save him), he knew it was only a matter of time before his feelings for this extraordinary being became too much to bear. It built into a crescendo, at that moment, when he heard the thudding on the barrier of the tunnel. Rocky didn't want to jump to conclusions at the time, the disbelief overshadowing any budding sense of hope building within him—but then Grace was there. Grace came back for him. Grace came back to save him.
Rocky wouldn't be alone. He wouldn't die alone, stranded, because Grace was there.
Amaze, amaze, amaze.
He said his feelings built into a crescendo—and they did—but that implies there was a moment when the intensity diminished, when it died down.
It didn't.
Before they parted ways, Rocky had already been grappling with his feelings for him being less than platonic in nature. There were moments when Grace would just be so cute, so adorable, and Rocky couldn't help but feel smitten.
He promised himself he would never let Grace become aware of these feelings, however. Grace seemed so skittish sometimes, especially when Rocky tried to ask more personal questions (boundaries, Rocky!), at least at first. Once Rocky woke up from his injury and they partied, he tried to ask Grace some more probing questions, expecting the same dismissive response—and yet that didn't happen.
"Grace find new mate once back on Earth, question?" Rocky chirped, paying attention to the fireworks on his device as a way to pretend he wasn't deeply invested in the answer.
He wasn't sure why, honestly. Even in the incredibly unlikely scenario that Grace returned his feelings—which he didn't—it shouldn't matter if he wanted another mate, too. It's not uncommon for Eridians to have multiple mates, but Rocky and Adrian were never interested in others. For the longest time, Rocky thought Adrian would be it for him—and if that were the case, he'd be happy.
It was funny how life worked.
Because here he was, in love with another being—not even an Eridian—and Rocky found he wanted so badly it hurt.
Sometimes it hurt more than when he entered Grace's atmosphere.
A ridiculous notion, honestly, considering he was actively dying at the time, but a truthful one. Rocky had never felt this way since the time he first met Adrian, and that was many, many years ago. It was a foreign feeling, to want so badly that it ached and rotted inside of him.
"Buddy…" Grace choked out. Rocky heard the blood rushing towards his face. He must be flustered, then. "Didn't we talk about this?"
He was deflecting, but Rocky noticed the difference—there might be some wiggle room for him to get his answer.
"No," Rocky chirped, "Grace and Rocky talk about past mates of Grace. Grace say past mate leave him for Mark." He paused. "Rocky still hate Mark."
Grace let out a chuckle. Just hearing it made Rocky feel lighter and heavier at the same time—such a beautiful noise from a beautiful potential mate, but one he could never have. Still, Rocky shoved his feelings deep down and took this as a good sign.
"Grace and Rocky not talk about future mates for Grace. Once Grace back home."
There was a long pause. Grace turned his face away from Rocky, tilting it, as if he was thinking deeply about it.
"Nah, Rock." Grace finally answered, turning his face back toward Rocky's carapace. He leaned his side against Rocky's ball. "I think I'm good."
Grace was still hesitant answering those questions, sure, but it was evident that things had changed between them. He opened up more, much more than he did when Rocky first came on the Hail Mary, and it excited Rocky to no end. He wanted to know as much as he possibly could about Grace—wanted to know him inside and out.
(And yes, Rocky does know Grace's insides quite well—can hear them all the time, really. Very loud, noisy things, human bodies.)
The point was, it didn't seem like Grace was very interested in the concept of having a mate, and while Rocky did feel a little wounded at that, he knew Grace would never return his feelings. Why would he? They were so different, and the last thing Grace needed was an alien to make him uncomfortable and creeped out.
So Rocky hid what he felt, even when they parted ways. Even when Rocky felt like a piece of himself died when Grace left. It just wasn't meant to be, no matter how much he wanted it—wanted Grace.
But then Grace came back, and Rocky had done nothing but want, want, want.
Somehow, it was different. Now that Rocky knew how much Grace was willing to sacrifice for him, how much he cared for him, he couldn't bury those feelings anymore. He couldn't pretend like they weren't there—they were too loud, thrashing and screaming inside him to be let out.
And that manifested itself in…many different ways.
Uncommon wasn't exactly the right word for the idea of an Eridian self-pleasuring. It may not have been quite common, but it wasn't unheard of, either. Rocky hadn't done it since before he got together with Adrian—didn't feel the need, as he was with his wonderful mate—and while he did feel lonely on his ship sometimes, there were obviously more pressing matters then.
But now.
Now.
Rocky hadn't felt this way for a long time. Feeling this worked up, to the point he wanted to self-pleasure. To the point where his desires were taking over him like some kind of parasite, and causing him to make stupid, stupid mistakes.
It was for the dumbest reasons, too. Grace would make these noises sometimes—obviously innocuous, but noises that drove Rocky crazy despite it all. He'd suck on pens, pencils—that human seemed to put almost anything in his mouth—wrapping his wet, leaky lips around it and making noises that made Rocky start to vibrate with need. Thinking, what else would he let me put inside his mouth? What else would he make delicious noises around? Would he keep humming like that if I put my ovipositor inside him, inside his mouth? How would he react with my ovipositor going down his throat, to the point his throat was bulging from the outside? Would his eyes be wide? Would they be closed in pleasure?
Would he be crying for more?
Rocky promptly rolled out of the room, saying disgust, disgust, disgust, and hoped Grace didn't realize the truth any time soon.
After he calmed himself down, Grace apologized sheepishly, saying it was just something to help him focus, but it was probably too close to eating. He had asked Rocky if he wanted him to stop, and Rocky grumbled, telling him he didn't care, when he was really thinking, please don't stop, please don't stop, please don't stop.
A lot of it came down to his noises, really. The little noises of pleasure he'd make when he stretched, a happy sigh when he cracked his joints, noises he even made while eating (but tried to cover up since Rocky was nearby).
Perhaps the most embarrassing thing is…Grace's mouth, once truly disgusting to him, is no longer…that.
He'd never, ever, admit it, but Grace's mouth did things to him. He wanted Grace's saliva to be on him, wanted Grace to slather him with it, wanted to feel his mouth all over, even if it would never be possible.
Rocky was not too sure when exactly it started to shift, but he felt like he was far, far beyond the point of no return. To the point where he couldn't be in the same room as Grace if he was doing too much with his mouth. Which, frankly, was a lot of the time.
And obviously, Rocky couldn't do anything about these wants or desires. He couldn't just self-pleasure in front of Grace—for logistics and moral reasons. Grace would have too many questions, wanting to know how it all works, and once he finally found out what Rocky did, what Rocky wanted to do to him, he'd probably try to escape to the nearest planet, away from Rocky and his perverted tendencies.
Which, Rocky wanted to stress, is not something he'd normally want to do anyway! Grace just drove him to insanity, to a world with no logic or reasoning in sight, to a world where he was a giant pervert.
Maybe that's just what he was, now. That's clearly what he has to be, given what he did next.
It was a few months after they started their journey toward Erid. Rocky felt like he was losing his mind at this point—he didn't know how he was going to survive being locked on a tiny ship with someone he wanted to rail into the next galaxy for years. It was all becoming too much, and he worried Grace would start to notice, if he hadn't already.
Rocky had been spending less time with him than usual—not anything egregious, but just a bit less than what he'd actually want.
(Although if Rocky had his way, he and Grace would always spend time together. But that's neither here nor there.)
He also had been a bit cranky, snapping at Grace a few times, which made Rocky want to throw himself out of the airlock. He had apologized every single time, and Grace stressed it wasn't a big deal, but Rocky still felt bad. Any apology he said didn't feel like enough.
Rocky thought he'd have a hold on his feelings at that point, but they seemed to still be wildly out of control. To the point where, on one particular night, Rocky decided to do something that would change everything.
It had been a difficult day at that point. Not for Grace—Grace had been obliviously humming joyfully as he sucked and licked at a pen while doing busywork for most of the day. Rocky had even caught him singing at one point, which was a rare treat. It was something he used to find beautiful, adorable, but now that he was always haunted by Grace, Grace, Grace in a very inappropriate way, to the point where even that became something his sick and twisted mind started to turn into fuel.
Such a beautiful voice for a beautiful mate. My mate. Mymatemymatemymate.
Rocky wondered how else he could make Grace sound with that pretty voice of his?
He wasn't proud of it, but he was well aware of human mating practices by then. Yes, it was something he and Grace had discussed in a scientific sense before, but Rocky needed to learn more. So, before everything went wrong with the Taumoeba, Rocky had done the logical thing: he listened to as much human porn as he possibly could.
It hadn't truly interested him at the time, as he only cared for one particular human. It was very loud, leaky, and seemed over-the-top in Rocky's humble opinion, but then he thought of Grace in these roles, and he almost came entirely undone at the very thought.
He wanted Grace to be loud—to be loud for him. Nobody else. He wanted Grace to keep making noises for him, to sing in pleasure for him.
…so yes, Rocky had been struggling quite a bit that day, feeling like he might explode with all the want festering inside of him. Or worse, he would keep taking out his frustration on Grace.
That wouldn't do at all, Rocky had thought, so that night when Grace went to sleep, and Rocky was about to keep watch, his thoughts…wandered.
Grace seemed peaceful like this. He was always moving, always keeping busy and doing something, anything at all, so it was nice to see Grace relax. He deserved nothing less—he saved Rocky and his people.
But then a thought struck him. A thought that scared him the very moment it appeared.
It would be the perfect time to pleasure yourself.
Rocky had frozen as soon as the thought even entered his mind. It was wrong. He couldn't possibly—why would he—it would be—!
What are your other options? To keep suffering like this? To keep avoiding him? To keep getting mad at him, even though it is YOU who cannot control yourself?
Rocky mulled it over for a moment, hesitating. It was horrifying, the idea of doing this. If Grace ever found out, he would feel so betrayed. He would hate him, and Rocky wouldn't blame him at all. Rocky would have broken his trust, their friendship—
He wouldn't have to know.
That thought came quieter, more serious in tone. Rocky observed where Grace was lying down, sleeping soundly.
Later, Rocky would try to blame it all on temporary insanity. On the fact that he had wanted Grace for so long that it scrambled all the sensible parts of his brain, because that was the only reason he could think of that made any sense.
But at that moment, he listened to Grace breathing in and out and made a decision.
He wouldn't have to know. He wouldn't have to know. He wouldn't have to know.
Rocky knew he was going to regret it later. He knew this, and yet, he also thought that was a problem for Later Rocky.
At that moment, Rocky finally decided to let loose—to let every single inappropriate, dirty, filthy thought he'd had of Grace take over his mind.
Grace opening his mouth for Rocky's ovipositor, licking at it before taking more and more into his mouth, moaning and humming around it while Rocky held him down. Grace making these high-pitched keens and whines, all while he tried his best to please Rocky—but Grace always tried his best; Grace was good. He was good, good, good.
Rocky using his claw to touch Grace all over, to graze over various places on his body, to his chest, to his nipples, to his thighs, to his cock. Grace would beg for more, for Rocky to move faster, to finally let him have release, but Rocky wouldn't want to rush it. They've waited so long for each other—what's a little more?
And oh, how he'd explore and touch as much as he could on Grace's body, lingering on the scar Rocky gave him. He wishes he had a tongue so he could taste himself on Grace's skin, to taste himself marked on Grace forever.
This was the most Rocky had let himself think about Grace in a long, long time—to the point he could feel himself start to get wet, mercury starting to drip a little out of him. He could feel his ovipositor start to emerge, starting just slightly to poke through his seam.
Rocky listened to Grace. Still breathing, still sleeping. Good. Good, good, good.
He started to grind his seam against the bottom of the ball, these little chirps and hums escaping him. It felt so good to finally think about Grace like this, to feel pleasure like this.
He continued grinding, letting his thoughts wash over him.
Grace would look so pretty being bred by Rocky. Grace would sound so pretty being bred by Rocky.
Rocky would fuck his release into Grace's hole, and then would go to Grace's mouth to release more there, too. Grace's pretty, pretty cock would be throbbing heavily with need, Rocky making him feel so good, so good, so good—
Rocky wanted it inside him too, wanted Grace to pound into him and sob from pleasure, from how good it felt, from how good Rocky felt. He wanted Grace to become addicted to it, to him, clenching around his cock and milking him for every last drop of his cum. Rocky wanted Grace to breed him, to breed him over and over until there was no doubt that there would be offspring, until it was clear he was the only one for Grace, that he was Grace's, and Grace was his.
Rocky's ovipositor rubbed against the bottom of the ball, leaving tiny puddles at the bottom from his leaking. Rocky's noises were becoming louder now, more like vibrations as he just let his thoughts become Grace, Grace, Grace.
Why didn't he do this earlier? It felt so good. He finally felt like he was inches away from getting a clear mind again, he was so close, he was so close, he was so close—
"…Rocky?"
Rocky froze. He felt like the ground had been pulled out from under him, and that he was falling, falling, Grace was going to hate him, Grace would never want to be near him again, why did he do this, why did he do this, why did he do this—
"You good, bud?" Grace asked, shifting in his cot a little. He sounded groggy and slightly disoriented. "You were making a lot of noises there."
Rocky couldn't move. How could he? He was just pressed against the bottom of the ball, terrified to move, and for Grace to see him like this—
"Oh, were you making some white noise for me while I slept?"
Rocky was stupid. Rocky was going to regret this later. There was no way this would end well at all.
"Yes, yes, yes," Rocky tried to sound natural, but his usual chirp sounded more like a croak to him. "Grace correct. Rocky help lull Grace to sleep. Sleep more soundly with Rocky noise."
Grace had explained the concept of religion in passing, and more specifically, Christianity, to Rocky. Eridians did not have such beliefs—they did not believe in heaven or hell, but one thing made itself clear that day—Rocky was going directly to hell for his actions.
"Aw," Grace cooed, calming the terror in Rocky for a moment before he was overwhelmed with guilt. He was lying. He was lying to his best friend. He was lying to one of the beings he loved, all because he couldn't get his own perverted, selfish desires under control.
"That's sweet," Grace continued, starting to sound tired again. He twisted and turned in his bed, trying to get more comfortable. "Well, don't stop on my account. It was nice." He let out a contented sigh before asking in a hopeful tone, "Keep going?"
Well...
Rocky had never been good at denying Grace anything he wanted.
Why would he start now?