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It is five o’clock somewhere on Earth, and I desperately need a drink.
Another clang resounds from the other end of the ship, the part of the ship my bed is in, and I just barely stop myself from letting out an aggrieved sigh.
Maybe I can just try again, I think to myself. Surely my best friend Rocky understands that he can’t be messing around with projects in our personal quarters. That’s what the lab is for.
It’s this hopeful thought that drives me to yell at Rocky across the ship when yet another noise that sounds suspiciously like a miniature explosion rings through the ship’s halls.
“Rocky!” I shout. There’s a pause, and I can almost picture how Rocky’s halted, claws wrapped around his tools and carapace leaning dangerously forward. Ever since he perfected his fitted xenonite suit, he’s been making the most of his newfound freedom from his ball. “I know you like working in our room, but you can’t be doing your engineering stuff in there.”
There are some short clicks that echo back to me, and I take the response as a tentative fine. Rocky is a brat even at the best of times, begrudgingly kept in line by Mary, Armando, and whatever bribes I can spontaneously offer him. It’s unlikely he’s enthused about this, but he can go suck a lollipop for all I care.
Sometimes I daydream about what it would be like if Adrian were here to wrangle him instead. According to Rocky, his partner is the large and in charge type. I can’t help but think it’s fitting. Rocky really needs some sense smacked into sometimes.
Wait, what?
A giggle escapes me, and I scrub my hands across my face. Maybe I’m finally losing my mind on this dang ship, still a couple years away from Erid. If I’m lucky, I won’t be totally off my rocker by the time we get there. That would be quite the unfortunate first contact for the rest of Erid.
I suck some more coma slurry down, wincing at the way the texture coats the back of my throat. I choke on a sip as more noise rings out from the dormitories, and I’m up out of my seat before I can blink, legs pushing me towards my roommate as my patience finally snaps.
When I get to the dorms, Rocky is standing on my bed, his legs oddly stretched as he stills in the air. Two of his limbs face me while the other three are locked together close to the wall.
“Rocky, I swear to—” Breathe Ryland. “What did I just say? What the heck are you doing in here that apparently can’t be done elsewhere?”
He still hasn’t moved, hasn’t even tapped a claw once. Not that he needs to, he can sense me perfectly right now, his sonar senses delicate enough to view the twitches of my arms or swells of my breathing. But it’s odd, considering his propensity for movement. His fidgeting is so common that my auditory cortex has deemed light taps unimportant to process, filtering them out as background noise. Right now, the Hail Mary is eerily quiet, only my harsh exhales puncturing the silence.
I take a step towards him, and Rocky shifts. Not a step back, but a lean back, his carapace slightly lower than before, and I suddenly realize that he’s trying to prevent me from looking over and behind his body.
“What are you hiding?” I ask.
“I’m not hiding anything,” he responds, and I startle. It’s only been recently that I’ve become fluent enough for us to start phasing out the translator, and Rocky’s real voice, unmasked by the fake one, still catches me off guard.
“Really,” I murmur, striding closer, “so your legs are all squished together for no reason?”
“I’m not the squishy one here.”
The tapping has begun, increasing in speed as I inch closer and closer. I wonder what he’s trying to see right now. Is he tracking my irises to guess where I’m looking? Is he listening to my heartrate to gauge if I’m really mad? Is he looking for somewhere to dart off to hide at, only to discover that no such place exists?
What would I do if he ran? I ponder the hypothetical as I watch Rocky begin to squirm under my stare. I’d chase him down while he’d scamper all over the place, my legs far outpacing his. Maybe I’d throw a blanket over him in an attempt to disorient him, or jump on top of him like a bull rider until he’d accept defeat, unwilling to wrestle me for control when he knows my skin could tear if he pushes just a little too hard.
My pulse stutters for a moment as I imagine it, and I shove the image away. Good lord.
“Well?” I question again, raising an eyebrow. This is my “serious look” as he calls it. Rocky sways a little before parting his hind legs, and between them is a large, frankly enormous, dent in the wall that’s dusted with soot. Off to the side, a butane microtorch rests on my pillow next to some welded together pieces of xenonite, and the clues fit together to paint an incriminating puzzle.
“Rocky, what the heck is this?” I hiss.
“It was an accident!” he cries. “I didn’t think the reaction would be that bad!”
“The reaction wouldn’t have been a big deal if you did it in the lab!”
“Is it a big deal? It’s just a dent,” Rocky quips, and I find myself almost speechless at his audacity.
“Is it a big deal? I mean, the dent itself, no,” I admit. “It’s a small deal. A small to medium deal. But it could have been so much worse. What if you blew a hole in the wall? We’re on the edges of the ship!”
Rocky nods. “Bye bye Grace,” he says solemnly, like the sarcastic butthead he is, and I lunge at him like a viper, grabbing at his legs as he tries to softly bat me away.
Shrill squeals escape him as he rolls back onto the top of his carapace, limbs splayed around him like sun rays. He’s frantically nudging at my thighs, which have circled around his body and over some of his legs in a straddle.
Like a beetle, I think. The lights of the room are dimmed since Rocky doesn’t need them, and the panels of his suit glint under the soft LEDs, highlighting every nook and cranny trapped under me.
A loud quiet envelops the space between us, and I find myself looming over Rocky, my fingers finding purchase on the underside of him. Heartbeat impossibly ringing in my skull, I smooth my palms over the stony surface, and short wheezes escape Rocky, muffled by my blanket, his vents constricting at a speed I’ve never heard before.
“Grace,” Rocky whines, and I get dizzy with how fast my body heats.
“You gonna answer me, Rock?” The question comes out as a whisper, more air than words. It doesn’t matter. I know he can hear it.
“Answer what?”
“Why were you working here? On my bed, with a blowtorch,” I elaborate. I’m pressing down, down, down, and then I’m falling, most of my weight pushing through my hands onto him. For a second, I wonder if I’m heavy enough for him to feel restricted—I’ve never done more than lean against him while sitting. I dismiss the thought immediately. I’m no more than a minor nuisance to him, like a big, folded-up weighted blanket. He can shake me off him whenever he wants, he could do it so gently that I wouldn’t feel a thing.
Rocky still hasn’t moved.
I keep examining him, tracing over his carvings as Rocky’s wheezes slow to a stop. He’s incredibly warm under me—warmer than he was when I first got on him, I realize—since his air circulation is blocked.
“You good?” I ask, and Rocky chirps a yes sluggishly. It’s the answer I expected. Eridians can hold their breath for half an hour, but it only takes a few minutes for them to get slow and stupid. In the past, Rocky always pushed my hands away if I accidentally rested them on his vent, usually with some exclamation along the lines of You are trying to make Rocky dumb dumb dumb, but Grace is always dumbest.
And now he’s letting me, holy fudge. I shift uncomfortably on top of him, and bite back a groan as my crotch catches the slightest bit of friction. Some time during this little tussle, my dick decided Rocky was prime sex material.
Rocky’s ventral seam starts to split at my absentminded touches, and I practically gnaw straight through my lip as shiny fluid drips down his carapace. The xenonite suit forces the juices to smear across him, reminiscent of soaked panties, and my hips grind down involuntarily.
He’s basically the equivalent of legs spread, flat on his back for me right now, right?
I brush my fingers against his open slit, and Rocky stammers unintelligibly. He’s dripping even more now, and the liquid is already pooling in the dips of his carapace and in the hinges of his proximal joints. Is this diluted liquid metal? The wetness of female humans originates from blood plasma, so maybe it works the same for eridians.
I can feel my throat clench as I salivate. I want to dip my head down and lick across him until Rocky’s wet with my spit, I want to tongue his hole until he’s shaking, I want to gather up his slick and cool it in my atmosphere until it’s solid, until I can fashion it into whatever I want. I could use that dang blowtorch to make the resulting alloy malleable and shape it just like Rocky’s orifice, like my own personal fleshlight, mercury be damned. I could shape it into myself, into my own cock, and shove it up Rocky’s hole until he’s plugged up with a dildo made of his own cum.
The imagery is too much.
“Oh my god,” I gasp out, and I rut against the xenonite panels. My chest is heaving, and I need more, something, anything, I’m so freaking close—
“Grace, Grace, Grace, oh!” Rocky trails off into whines. His limbs are spasming now, twitching as a few of them fold up behind my back and push me forward. He scoots my ass across the bottom of his carapace, and then my cock’s tucked into the blistering heat of his hole, and Rocky lets out a trill so loud that it vibrates up my shaft into my bones.
My thoughts feel like they’ve evaporated into nothingness as arousal rips through me like fire, and I’m fucking down onto him, into him, his moans spurring my every thrust.
Precum drips down my tip, staining my shorts, and I spare a thought for my poor briefs, which squelch with every slam of my hips.
“Grace, please! More, I need it—I want to come so bad, please,” Rocky keens, and his moans pitch up so high that I can barely hear them.
My frustration crests with my pleasure. I need to come, now, so badly that I can barely breathe, and it’s that thought that makes me slow a little.
“Rocky—your vents,” I stammer, and he mewls when I stop.
“Rocky is fine!” he cries, his background tones dropping into a growl. “What are you doing? Why did Grace stop?”
The lack of air must really be getting to him if he’s reverting back to broken Eridian. I lift myself off him until I’m hovering above his slit, and Rocky thrashes weakly, tapering off into sobs.
My arm swings out to steady myself with the wall, my balance struggling with the weight of my arousal. I almost fall sideways as my hand misses its mark, and I grab onto Rocky instead. I forgot to account for the dent in the wall, which is deep enough that my fingertips can’t touch the end of it.
Rocky hesitantly taps a claw against the wall. He’s still laying flat on the top of his carapace, vents flush with the sheets. “Are you okay, Grace?”
I nod. “Yeah.”
I look at the wall again. I’m not really that angry about the little explosion anymore. Annoyed, maybe, at the lack of lab safety, but I know Rocky would never do anything too dangerous out in the open. After all, he’s the best engineer I know. I’d just been in a bad mood recently, no doubt spurred on by the fact that I’ve started rationing my food.
What I really am, is curious, so I decide to try prying an answer out of Rocky again.
“The wall. What happened?”
Rocky rumbles, clearly displeased, and I laugh. “Grace has bad timing,” he quips.
Perhaps I do, but my dick is still hard enough to cut diamond, so I’m guessing he’s probably fine too. I start tracing over his carapace again, rubbing around his slit in a wave-like pattern that never gets quite close enough to Rocky’s opening.
“Is unimportant,” he says quietly.
I can’t help but laugh. “Unimportant? I guess I should just leave then, if you’re not going to give me a straight answer, pal.”
I shift myself a fraction higher, praying to every god in existence that he doesn’t call my bluff.
Rocky cracks immediately. “No!” he blurts.
His carapace jumps up in an effort to touch me, his legs forming slender arches, and I slap a hand down onto his entrance, eliciting a shriek and subsequent collapse onto the bed.
“Grace is being mean!” he sobs, and I can feel my restraint chipping away rapidly. I love teasing the guy, but I only have so much patience.
“I’m mean? Maybe I’m just punishing you since you’re bad.”
“Ugh! Rocky not bad!” he argues. He’s wriggling again, rubbing on my hand. My thighs quiver with the effort of staying precisely an inch above Rocky.
I try one last time, “Rocky, buddy—”
“Rocky wants to come!” he moans.
Holy fuck.
I remove my hand from Rocky, and he’s drenched.
“You’re being bad, but you wanna be the one who comes?” I scoff, slipping my hand down to palm at my cock. I get the sudden urge to make him sloppier, wetter, and I angle myself over him as I speak. Drool trickles out of my mouth onto his hole, and Rocky screams, carapace shifting wildly and humping the air.
He pleads for me, apologizing with words slurred beyond comprehension.
“Holy shit, Grace. I’m sorry, Rocky’s sorry, holy fuck, just fuck me, fuck,” Rocky croons, and I grip my dick so hard that my vision blurs with tears.
“God, can you just,” I sigh loudly, injecting some cockiness into my voice. I drop abruptly down into Rocky’s orifice, which is so wet I can barely see it with how much his suit has fogged up with moisture. The heady warmth envelops my cock, and I brace myself on all fours on his legs, and I grind down so hard I see stars. “Can you just shut up?”
Rocky howls, claws scrambling for purchase against the sheets. “Please, please, Rocky’s going to—!” He trills obscenely loud, begging inarticulately.
His vibrations shoot up the length of my cock, and I groan, swivelling my hips like I’m going to die if I stop.
“You fucking brat,” I choke out, reaching up until my nails catch on the rim of his hole, and Rocky comes with a wail.
Cum splatters against xenonite panels that are now silver and opaque, and the squelch of the liquid due to the drag of my cock tips me over the edge. My muscles tense, and I jerk on top of him, riding out the pleasure.
“Ah—fuck!” I whimper. The last of my orgasm peters out, and I slump down onto the bed, my arms loosely encircling Rocky’s trembling form.
For a few minutes, nothing exists but the hum of the ship’s electricity accompanied by my shaky inhales, and then my brain reboots.
Oh my goodness, what did I just do?
What kind of friend gets so horny over alien pussy that they start grinding on said alien?
“Rocky,” I say, and then I stop because what does someone even say in this situation? Linda and I had never gotten this far. In fact, I’m pretty sure I’ve never been this horny with another person in my entire life.
I feel pressure against me and scramble back as Rocky rights himself and settles into a loaf. For an organism that doesn’t have eyes, I can sure feel his gaze boring into me.
Looks like I’m gonna have to talk first. I decide to let myself blurt out the first thought I have.
“Looks like you’re leakier than you thought,” I say, and I cringe immediately.
Lucky for me, then, that Rocky also struggles with serious conversations. He relaxes, volleying back, “You’re the leakiest out of both of us, easily.”
I only hum in response, and after a moment of hesitation, I strip off my shirt to wipe myself down before turning towards Rocky. I stretch out my arm, and he lifts himself up for me to quickly swipe any of my cum off the bottom of his carapace, his orifice back to its closed state.
There’s another pause, but it’s less painful.
“So…are we mates now?” Rocky breaks the silence. He’s always been the braver one.
Shock ripples through me, and I fumble with my shirt. “Mates? What about, what about Adrian?”
“You know eridians have multiple mates, and that polyamory is common, unlike how it is for humans. You know Adrian and I have been open to a third. There’s no way your memory is this bad.”
“I know that, but I just mean,” I waver, unsure if I want to say this out loud, if I want this to be out in the open. Screw it. “I just…you want to be mated to me? Are you sure?”
I’m rambling now, unable to stop until everything’s said. “You and Adrian deserve to have a mate just as amazing as you guys are, and I just—I mean, I’m not? I can’t speak eridian, I can’t thrum, I can’t touch you, I even can’t live in your atmosphere or I’ll die a comically bad death.”
Rocky drops into a low stance that I know means that he’s incredibly displeased. “Don’t be stupid, Grace. You think I haven’t thought of all that, after living with you for so long? I don’t care. Adrian won’t care. I want you.”
He halts in his speech and takes a step back. “I mean, assuming you want this? I know humans have a more…sexually free society.”
I shake my head, chuckling. “No! I mean, yes, I want this, and no, it wasn’t just sex, for me. You know I’m not like that, bud.”
“Not like that?” Rocky angles himself diagonally, imitating a head tilt. It’s one of the cuter behaviors he’s picked up from watching me and movies.
“I’m not super attracted to people. If I was, I probably would have hooked up with people, since my libido’s fairly average, but the opportunity just never presented itself.”
“So aside from your single past mate, you’ve only been attracted to me? That’s amazing,” Rocky chirps happily, and I blush, embarrassed.
I add, “Well, I actually am realizing now that maybe I wasn’t that attracted to Linda. I never wanted to have sex with her, but I liked…giving, for lack of a better word, so I figured that was about as horny as I could feel about a person.”
Rocky sidles up to me, shuffling over my lap and poking me until we’re resting comfortably against the wall. He settles down onto me, the majority of his weight on his limbs, and butts his carapace excitedly against me.
“Rocky took Grace’s virginity, question?” He teases me with the babytalk, but I can tell he’s excited from how much he’s wobbling.
My face burns. I know he knows the answer based on how fast my heart’s beating. “Yeah, you did, pal.”
Rocky chirps again. “When we get back to Erid, Adrian and I will make sure you love getting fucked. You’ll be begging for it, statement.”
Times like this, I wish I had vents of my own. My face feels like it’s going to go numb with how flushed I am. Rocky’s bluntness never fails to astound me.
I shove at him playfully when I catch a glimpse of Rocky’s discarded tools on the opposite end of the bed, some of them having fallen on the ground during our prior activities.
“Rock! You never answered me!”
He groans, unsexy this time, and trills softly into my stomach. The vibrations tickle, and I shove at him again, snickering.
“What did you say? I didn’t catch that.”
“Glasses,” he confesses. “I was trying to make a prototype for when you eventually break yours.”
Mild insult aside, I can feel myself melt at how sweet that is. And I hate to admit it, but the thought had crossed my mind. I don’t necessarily think I’ll break my current pair, but it’s unlikely my prescription will stay the same for the rest of my life.
“Thank you, buddy,” I say.
“Not buddy. I’m your mate now.”
“Sorry, Rock. I’m afraid I’m saving all my romantic nicknames for Adrian.”