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It starts, funnily enough, with spiders. Eridians aren't that similar to spiders, but they're still the closest earth analogue. Well, spiders, crabs, and starfish, I guess, but the way that Rocky sometimes scuttles around is definitely more spider than anything else. He's vaguely curious about these distant potential relatives; I think I would be in the same boat if Erid had a primate-like species running around (it doesn't, nor does it really have much approximating a mammal). I make some offhand comment about spiders in their web and he makes a questioning pose at me.
"Spiders have internet too, question? No communicate with humans, question?"
I laugh. "No, sorry, I guess that doesn't quite translate. Spiders make, uh - silk? String? and weave a web, a net, to catch their prey. It's actually really cool, the string comes from a protein in their body and they extrude it… The web is sticky and when insects get caught in it, the spider senses them and wraps them up so they can't escape.”
I'm maybe slightly trying to gross him out. It's a bit of a toss up, what biological functions earth animals do that Rocky thinks are disgusting, or completely normal. He doesn't seem disgusted though, just intrigued.
"Spiders use vibrations to sense prey, question?"
Oh right, of course that would interest him! My knowledge of spider biology and hunting methods isn't that detailed, so I pull up the Wikipedia for 'spider'. We both read, (in Rocky's case "read") for a second, until he makes the noise I now interpret as a laugh.
"What's so funny?" I ask.
“Understand why spiders scare Grace. Eridians make webs sometimes, but much nicer version. No eating.”
"What?" This is news to me. I thought we'd covered all the crazy biology stuff Eridians have going on, and now I'm finding out they make webs?
“Not make webs, no,” he corrects me. “Make webs.”
"Um, I think we're having another translation difficulty... you guys don't make webs?"
He rocks from side to side, impatient. “No make web from body, statement. Make web like make chain.”
"Ohh, you fabricate it? Weaving, I guess, I mean I know you guys can make fabric..."
He's still rocking impatiently. “No fabric, no from body. Take string, wrap around other Eridian, tie tight, make beautiful vibration music dance.”
Whatever concept he's trying to express, the translator isn't totally getting it, so I stand still for a second, trying to puzzle it out.
"Ok, it's an art, you have string, you dance, there's music..." All I'm picturing is Eridians doing rhythmic gymnastics with a ribbon dance, which can't possibly be right, but is a hilarious mental image. "There's string, it's beautiful, you tie up another person..."
My mouth drops open. "Wait, are you telling me Eridians have bondage?"
...
It turns out, in fact, Eridians do have bondage.
Well, it's not exactly the same as earth-bondage (no surprise there), but it's the closest I can get to conceptualizing what Rocky is describing.
"It's not um, sexual, right?" I ask, feeling my face go hot. "Not for mating purposes?"
Rocky laughs at me again. “How would be for mating purposes, question? You think music also for mating purpose, question?”
"Sometimes, I guess..." I mutter, but he's still going: “Is for art, for enjoyment. Connect with Eridian, feel good.”
He explains that an Eridian is tied in the centre of a frame, with varying thickness of string connecting their limbs to the frame and creating the "web". Because Eridians are so sensitive to sound and vibrations, the vibrations of the strings being plucked and pulled reverberate back into their body, which feels pleasurable for them. Some of the "weavers" become well known and sought out for their ability to construct pleasing webs and play soothing vibrations.
"Sort of like a cross between a hammock and a massage..." I muse. "Not really what people think of for alien bondage."
“What bondage, question? Humans also do?”
I flush again. Good thing he can't see it. "It's um..I'm not sure I can explain it well - "
“Rocky research, statement.” He says, and before I can do anything to stop him he's pulling up information. I've long worked past a lot of cultural hang-ups, living with Rocky, but there is something excruciatingly weird about looking at what is essentially porn with your best alien friend. He's not uncomfortable, of course, it's just me that's squirming and trying to scroll us past some of the more explicit images. We land on one that's not so bad - someone semi-clothed and suspended by their legs and hips, posed beautifully.
After a moment of interpreting the image through his device, Rocky says: "Is similar. Need more small ropes. Why Grace uncomfortable, question?"
I rub the back of my neck. "It's the - connotations, y'know? It's a cultural thing."
He makes a noise of semi-understanding, and I think that's going to be the end of this whole unpredictable conversation, but then he says: “Grace try, question? Rocky demonstrate, statement.”
...
So here I am, sitting in the centre of a five-sided frame, about to be tied up by my best friend. Somehow I've still had weirder days than this.
If I'm being honest, I didn't need that much coaxing into it. I've never done anything like this, back on earth. I'd always filed bondage into the "weird stuff people do for sex" and never thought much about it, but the last half hour of research had been intriguing. It turned out, bondage - or rather, shibari, could be a lot closer to what Rocky was describing than I thought. More of a visual component for humans, of course, but out of the sexy, tying-someone-to-the-bedposts context, the idea was more appealing. And hey, Rocky's bored, I'm bored, and we could definitely be getting up to way worse.
I still feel a little nervous and awkward though, sitting in the middle of a pile of ropes and string. I'm wearing shorts, but no shirt, because apparently friction is important for tying both Eridians and humans. I haven't asked how much Rocky has done this, but he seems confident as he approaches with the last handful of rope.
“Grace start tie,” he says, gesturing to my ankle.
"Oh, you want me to tie myself? Ok..." I say, a little mystified.
“To hear tension, pressure,” he says.
I slip the first medium-thickness rope around my ankle.
"I think... this feels good, it's not too tight." I say.
Rocky gives it a gentle tug. “Good. Grace squishy, delicate. Careful to put ropes in right place, right pressure.” For some reason, him saying that makes my neck go hot.
"Thanks," I mutter quietly, as he picks up the next rope.
With five limbs, he can tie much faster than I assume a human can. He wraps rope around my ankles, thighs and hips, crawling over me with ease. I think he'd be a little more dexterous if he wasn't wearing his suit, but his knots are still firm. He does have me hold pieces of rope for him as he moves up my body, until he gets to my arms. Gently, he takes my wrist in his claw, and moves my arm first back, and then in front of me, like he's testing my mobility.
After a moment, he seems to decide he wants my arms in front of me, and he pulls them both together, then starts binding my wrists. I watch, transfixed, as he loops rope up my arms, his movements quick and sure.
"Grace hold", he says, another rope in his third claw.
"Um, how? You kinda have my hands out of commission here," I wiggle my fingers - I can sort of grab something, if I needed to, but it wouldn't be easy.
"Grace hold," he says again, and pushes the rope to my mouth. I take it automatically, and he hums with satisfaction.
"Good. Grace quiet, only for short time,"
"I was already quiet!" I try to protest around the rope, but it just sounds garbled, and he laughs. I could spit it out, if I wanted, but instead I keep holding it between my lips.
I'm suddenly very aware of my body, my position - sitting, arms and legs bound, mouth occupied, Rocky crouching over me. A pulse of - nerves? Adrenaline? goes through me, some primal part of my brain reacting. I shiver, tense my muscles against the ropes. They hold, of course. I wouldn't expect anything less. Rocky is still moving, checking the knots I think, but he refocuses back to me. Can he tell my heartbeat has picked up?
"Grace ok, question?"
I nod, then go "Mm-hm," in agreement around the rope.
Another shiver goes through me, but the adrenaline is already fading. I think of pulpy sci-fi covers, heroines bound and gagged in front of Martians, and now I want to laugh. I don't laugh though, just hold still as Rocky finishes his checks.
I'm still more aware of my body than I usually am. I can feel the ropes against me, the pressure when I pull, sweat starting to bead on my forehead and back. The rope in my mouth is getting damp. Aside from my own breathing, and the gentle clicks and hums as Rocky works, the room is quiet. Beneath me, I can feel the barely perceptible rumble of the ship's workings.
Rocky picks his way back up to my torso, stepping carefully around the lines he's already laid out. He's not resting his weight on me, of course, but it's still nice to feel his presence, the outside of the suit a few milimetres away from my own skin.
He reaches one claw slowly toward my face - it's a little blurry, since I took off my glasses before we started - and pulls the rope from my mouth.
I stare at him, the light gleaming off his carapace.
"Grace good. Patient. Good good good." he says, and I go warm. He pauses, like he's considering me as much as I am him, and I swallow, take a breath.
"Ready for small ropes now, question?" He asks, and it takes me a second to find my voice and mutter a "yes".
I don’t totally get the deal with the small ropes - they’re finer, closer in thickness to string, and as far as I know, not used in human bondage. Rocky picks up a claw-full and skitters back down to my feet. I lean forward to see what he’s doing, the motion pulling the ropes that loop around my torso and shoulders tighter. Then I flinch and start giggling, because Rocky has looped one of the strings around my toes.
“What are you - what are you doing?” I say through laughter, trying to do my best to not move my legs away. I’m ticklish!
Rocky holds my foot still and continues tying. “Small ropes go on small digits.” he clicks a free claw to demonstrate. “Grace no move.”
He finishes tying the string to my toes and moves up to my hands, and soon I have fine lines dangling from all my fingers too. Then he moves behind me, and I flinch again as I feel a gentle claw in my hair.
“Rocky tie here too.”
My hair’s grown out a bit - not as long as when I first woke up, but it’s easy enough for him to tie strands into several sections of my hair. I can’t help but relax; it feels nice. I’ve never had my hair braided but I imagine it feels something like this. I must look completely ridiculous, tied up with string coming from my feet, hands, and head, but the gentle tugging is making me feel too good to care.
He skitters back down in front of me, and I blink at him.
"Grace like, question?"
"Yeah. Yeah, I like. Feels good."
He chitters, and sounds a little smug when he says "Have not even started! Grace heart beat already slowing down."
"What do you mean you haven't even started?" I ask. Rocky clambers back to the frame and starts securing the thicker ropes to it.
"Have not played the vibrations. Grace need to be in middle."
With that, he connects the rope at my ankles and hips to the rope dangling from the frame, then pulls on the other end.
I exclaim in surprise. It's easy to forget how strong Rocky is - we don't physically interact much in a way where it's obvious, and he's less than half my size. But when he hauls on the rope, I'm pulled upward with ease. Sure, I've lost a bit of weight since first waking up on the Hail Mary, and he's got the mechanical advantage of a pulley from the rope looped over the frame, but it's still a bit shocking to be dragged upward like a rag doll. Now I'm dangling by my legs - my shoulders and upper back are still resting on the ground, but most of my weight is being held by the ropes around my hips, thighs, and ankles.
It's an awkward position, and I'm glad I've been maintaining some semblance of an exercise and stretching routine. I engage my core and try to not squirm too much as Rocky continues to tug on the ropes.
"Grace good?"
"Yeah," I huff. "It's not-not a position I'm used to. Kinda intense."
The strain feels weirdly good though, the slight burn in my muscles and the concentration it's taking to maintain the pose. Sweat is starting to run down my spine toward my head, and I take a breath, feel my lungs expand against the ropes looped around my torso.
"Almost ready," says Rocky, from somewhere behind me, and it takes me a second to process his words. He's doing something in the vicinity of my shoulder blades - tying more knots, I have to assume, though I can't see him. Then I hear him scuttling back toward the frame, and make another involuntary sound as I'm pulled again.
This time it's the ropes at my back and chest, and I am hauled upward until my entire body is off the ground. I'm not very high up - maybe a foot or so from the ground, but it still feels...destabilizing, to have my whole weight resting on the ropes. My arms are bound, so I can't use them for balance, and I sway gently in what feels like a very sparse cocoon. Most of my bodyweight is being borne through the ropes at my back and legs, and it's actually not that uncomfortable. I slowly tense and stretch against the ties, feeling where there's a little give.
Rocky has done a good job. Nothing feels too tight, none of my extremities feel numb or tingling, but I am well and truly caught in his knots. I couldn't escape, even if I wanted to.
That thought should make me panicky - I've had enough nightmares about being restrained and pursued to last my whole lifetime - but instead I relax against the ropes, letting them hold me as my limbs go slack. I'd been taking shallow breaths; now I inhale slowly and pause before breathing out. In terms of ship safety, this wasn't a smart move - generally, having one half of your crew tied up and out of commission isn't great for being responsive in emergencies. But I can feel Rocky, now moving at the top of the frame. I can see the scissors and knife we left beside my glasses on the floor, just in case.
In the months since I first woke up on the Hail Mary, my brain has been working pretty much non-stop. First it was dealing with waking up in a completely new environment with amnesia, then it was first contact with an alien species and cobbling together a common language, and then it was everything related to the taumoeba and our multiple brushes with disaster. The last couple weeks have been smoother - no life threatening emergencies, anyway, but my mind and body haven't quite caught up. Even when there's downtime - and there's a lot of downtime - there's still a sensation like I'm forgetting something, my thoughts racing through contingencies and what-ifs. I've woken up from a deep sleep multiple times, convinced something is about to go wrong and never quite able to relax.
Now though, immobilized in the ropes, my thoughts slow. I let my eyes half-close, my muscles loosening. Rocky is still somewhere in the ropes above, and I sway slightly, his movements rocking me like I’m actually in a hammock. There’s a slight tugging at my fingers - he's fixing the smaller lines that are attached to my hands, and my digits uncurl. He's even more precise than usual as he tensions the rope - he knows fingers are delicate, and makes the line just taut enough.
"How Grace feeling?" Rocky asks, his tones a little quieter than usual.
"Mm," I say. Words seem very far away right now.
"How Grace feeling, question?" he says, more insistently, and plucks at one of the ropes.
"Good," I manage. "Nice."
"No hurt?"
"No, no hurt. The pressure is -" I reach for my vocabulary, but it's deserted me. "-It's good. Good good good."
Rocky hums to himself, pleased. He plucks the ropes again, and then starts to pluck multiple at a time, pulling and flicking the ones I'm suspended from. He wasn't kidding about the vibrations - if I was Eridian, this would probably feel crazy. As it is, I sway and gasp as different lines tighten and loosen, thrumming against me. He pulls the rope attached to my hands, my fingers flexing, and I think vaguely of puppet shows; no, marionettes.
I'm making noises without meaning to - little bitten-off gasps and whines as he manipulates the ropes, my body. It's not fast, it's not overwhelming, but it's intense. I can feel each loop and cuff of rope, the way my bones and muscles shift as the lines are pulled and stroked.
Then I feel a hand in my hair - no, it's his claw, he's pulling on the lines he's got attached to my hair - and I moan in earnest as he slowly pulls my head back. It's only angled a few degrees, but it's enough to expose my throat and send bright sparks of pain-pleasure running over my scalp.
"Ah - Rocky, please - " I'm not even sure what I'm asking for.
He tugs again, like he's curious, and I make a truly embarrassing noise, and squirm against the ropes.
“Grace like,” he says, smug like he knows, and all I can do is whine again as he tensions the line, fixes it somewhere above and behind me.
It’s tight, but not pulling my hair out or anything - just tight enough so that when I relax and tilt my head down, it’s like someone’s got a hand in my hair, yanking me back up. My head prickles and I shiver, arch my back a little more. He’s got me positioned in a gentle curve, facing the floor, my stomach and chest and neck exposed. I get a sudden mental image of how I must look, strung up within the frame, suspended by a web of ropes.
Rocky is still moving the lines, but less intently now. I sway, let my eyes fall fully closed. I feel him, never quite touching me, but his weight shifting me, the tiny breeze against my skin. He’s humming, clicking softly to himself, echolocating.
Usually he’s occupied with more than one thing at a time, each claw multitasking, but right now his focus is completely on the ropes.
Completely on me.
I don’t know how long I drift like that, breathing softly in his web. Eventually, I feel a tugging at my hair again, and I realize he’s been saying something to me.
“-Grace asleep, question? No longer making sounds.”
I blink my eyes open, trying to focus them until I remember I’m not wearing glasses.
“Not - not asleep. Just…floating.”
He scoffs at me. “Grace not floating. Grace tied in Rocky web. Time to start letting Grace out.”
I hum in response, then try to scrape some brain cells together.
“Probably a good idea, yeah.” I don’t really want to be untied, but I truly don’t know how long I’ve been here for, and I trust Rocky when he says it’s time.
He loosens the lines in my hair and extremities first, and I droop, all the little muscles in my neck and shoulders protesting. Then he frees my arms and they dangle awkwardly as he starts to gently lower me to the floor. I don’t know why I’m so tired, if that’s the right word for this feeling - he’s the one that did all the work, and I just hung there. But I slump over, boneless, once I’m on the floor, and let him continue to untangle the ropes from me.
After a few minutes, I sit up, and help him with the last few ties, my fingers clumsy. I have marks - lines of indents, running all over my body, across my sternum and chest, my upper arms, my thighs and calves. Rocky brushes them, making a questioning sound.
“Grace injured? Have marks, different shape.”
I scoop my glasses off the floor and peer at the marks, brush a finger over them.
“No, not injured. Just from the pressure. My skin is very squishy, remember?”
I might have a few bruises, where the skin is particularly thin, but nothing actually hurts. The marks look kind of cool, actually, vaguely reminiscent of Rocky’s lines and scarring. I say that to him, and he chitters, coiling the ropes up.
“Grace marks not permanent, question?”
“Not permanent,” I say. “They’ll go away soon, I think.”
That thought leaves me feeling oddly bereft, and I run my hands over the marks again, rub my wrists and ankles.
My brain still doesn’t feel totally back online, and there’s a soft fatigue weighing my limbs down. I sit there, blinking at Rocky while he cleans up the ropes, and probably would have kept sitting there, until he prods at me with one claw.
“Grace get up, statement. Need to eat, hydrate, rest. Rocky should not have kept Grace so long for first time.”
I scramble to my feet. After sitting on the floor for several minutes I’m starting to get cold - Rocky’s warm claw had felt nice, but I know my cardigan is somewhere.
“It’s ok,” I say, “I’m doing good -“ and then promptly almost fall over as I bend to pick up my cardigan from the corner.
Rocky shepherds me out of the frame and over to the bed, squeaking at me.
“Grace need to hydrate! Grace working hard in web, need to rest.”
“I haven’t been working hard,” I protest, sitting down on the bed.
I pull the blanket around myself and accept the water bag he’s handing me. I take a sip, and then start drinking a little frantically. Wow, I didn’t realize how thirsty I was.
Rocky is still in the way that I can tell he’s listening to me, even though I know he thinks my drinking sounds are gross.
“Grace work hard. Make lots of sounds, vibrations. Good good good.”
I flush, my cheeks and ears burning.
“Uh, yeah. That was - it was really - “ I still don’t have the right words to describe how it felt. I take a deep breath, set the water down.
“That was really amazing, Rocky. Thank you.”
Rocky makes his purring, trilling noise that means he’s happy, and scrambles onto the bed with me. He shoves one of the packets of slurry at me, and I swallow some down.
“Grace very responsive, statement. Even when not feel vibrations, Grace like.”
“Yeah,” I say quietly. “It was nice to feel safe. Held.”
That hazy, relaxed feeling still lingers, though it’s not as strong. My mind is quieter than it’s been in a long time.
I put the packet of slurry on the floor and then lie down, pulling the blanket back over me. Rocky is a warm presence at the end of the bed.
After a few minutes of quietly sitting together, I find my voice again.
“Rocky? Would you want to show me how to tie you sometime?” He’s quiet, and I go on: ”We’d have to make some modifications, but I’m half decent at knots, with my opposable thumbs and all.”
I’m not looking at him, but I can feel him shift, thinking.
“Grace truly like web, question? Not too weird for human?”
I laugh slightly. “Buddy, remember what we were looking at earlier? This is probably pretty normal for some humans.” I rub my eyes, feeling sleep approaching. “And yeah, I really liked the web. Your web.”
He makes the happy-purring noise again. “Good. I show. You can tie Rocky.”
I smile, my eyes closing.
The last things I imagine before I drift off to sleep are lines:
Lines of chain,
Petrova lines,
EVA cord tethers,
Rocky’s marks.
And my own matching marks, looped around me, keeping me safe.