Chapter Text
The trip back to Erid left a long, long time to do nothing in particular.
It was something I had taken into account of course. I wasn’t sure if Stratt had taken that into account, what with the expectation of him being dead by now and all, but I knew that to live would mean to eventually get very very bored indeed. Or to become obsessed with something or other to occupy all one’s time. Either way there would be a long time for doing nothing, at least in my current circumstances I had Rocky to talk to rather than just myself.
I still had practically the entire internet and documentation of collective human intelligence and uh, unintelligence at my disposal. That took up a lot of time. Wikipedia articles, research papers I never had time to read or catch up on, new fields of study yet to be explored. Human media. Films, TV shows, internet videos my kids had referenced, and I’d never bothered to discover what on earth they were on about till now. I didn’t get why half of them were funny still, but maybe they’d grow on me. It was only fair, they didn’t find me funny sometimes.
I wondered what they were doing now. Time dilation, they may well be having kids of their own. Best not to dwell on it. There were many other things to do! Worry about dwindling food supplies, well not dwindling yet, but would be dwindling long before they got back to Erid. Worry about living conditions there, how exactly my human mouth and vocal chords were ever going to manage to emulate Eridian sounds accurately. I had to accept my fate eventually, I was going to have the worst foreign language accent of all time. Even worse than that one aborted attempt to learn French in undergrad with the vague delusion of studying in Paris.
Still, I tried my best. Emulated Rocky’s example to the very best of my ability, though Rocky seemed to always think that ability was certainly subpar. Not up to scratch and all that. That was reasonable, I’d never been a particularly musical person, sort of sounded like a dying cat sometimes.
It was actually French I was stewing on rather than the Eridian words Rocky had taught me earlier in the day, hmm, sleep cycle, no good way to refer to the passage of time to be honest. I was trying my best to remember the few words and phrases I did know, lest it ever be interesting to the Eridian people-rocks? To know about different human languages. Je ne parle pas Français. Ça va? Ça va bien. The true pinacle of human conversation.
Another train of thought. Did Eridians have other languages? If they did Rocky hadn’t mentioned it, maybe there was accents, dialects, all sorts of interesting slang and group specific sounds made. I was no anthropologist or linguist, but still the concept interested me enough to think about, maybe even question Rocky on later. I was certain any proper linguist would be tearing their hair out by the offhand way I approached such questions. The representative of the human race…
Never to worry, they had what? A little less than five years to go into all of that. Not that anyone on earth would probably ever hear about it.
I distantly heard Rocky’s ball crash into something behind me as I stared off into the not going crazy room, watching the gentle crash of the waves on the screen, he spoke up, “If Grace does not use hearing like Rocky, why does Grace tap fingers question?”
I stopped in my tracks, the fingers that had been absently drumming against my thigh as I stewed silently in my thoughts coming to a halt, “Oh uh, good question.” I shrug, he was getting better with interpreting my gestures, “To feel it, I suppose. I do still hear it though you know, maybe not as clearly as you,” Not that I was paying attention to it.
“Rocky knows Grace hears, hears very badly.” Rocky said with no small amount of arrogance, tapping on his glass ball as if to make the point even clearer, “Why tap self to feel it question?”
“It’s, it’s unconscious, I don’t realise when I’m doing it.” I defended myself, look I know I had a tendency towards tapping or fidgeting or doing all these little things, but a man can have his habits. I’ve been trapped in space for forever, it’s only fair, never mind the fact I’ve been doing it forever. It’s not new at all. “It’s soothing. Way to stay focused or, calm down, you know that sort of thing,”
Rocky made a humming sound, warm and soothing, as his noises often were when they weren’t slightly off putting or show offish. “What is soothing?” He asked.
I knew he could get the definition from context clues but sometimes he just liked to ask, and to be honest sometimes I just liked to answer. “Something that makes you feel good, feel relaxed.”
“Grace taps to feel soothing, not to hear.” Rocky affirmed, doing his little equivalent of a head nod, I felt myself smiling at him. Watching him through half lidded eyes. God it was so easy to be tired with nothing to do.
“Ah, well, I can tap to hear too.” I tap the surface of the ground beneath my legs as evidence, Rocky tapped back to mimic it, “To tell what something’s made of, you know? Like if I tap glass, it sounds different to metal, like it would for you.”
“Yes, yes, Rocky would know everything about glass or metal If tapped.” Rocky did a little bobble and that little snorting sound he always did when overly pleased, “You know about your limb question? Why is it soothing?”
I laughed, tilting my head back to stare at the ceiling, “Full of questions today aren’t you bud?”
Rocky pushed his ball forward and made some errant grumbling noises, the kind I always made when reading a particularly boring book, “Bored bored bored. So much waves and ocean, Grace sitting here not talking for two human hours. Long time.” He explained.
“We’ve sat in silence longer than that, you feeling restless question?” I never intended for his phrasing to slip into my own, but it happened when you only interacted with one guy for eternity. Rocky seemed amused when it happened, he rolled his ball closer to me, front leg tapping gently on the glass.
“Restless.” Rocky sounded offended by it, I couldn’t help but laugh again, “Bad word, bad word, Rocky too well rested. Not rest less. Bored.”
I did feel for the guy, we were both bored. Course, some days slipped by so quickly, we got into a rhythm, talking, researching, Rocky working on his projects, me working on mine.
Not today. Today was slow, was boring, as Rocky said.
“Nice wordplay,” I mumbled.
“Not trying to play with words!” He was properly indignant now, stamping about in his ball with a purpose, “Grace just have useless words! Say things much nicer in Eridian,” He chirped.
I looked down at him with a lazy smile, “I know you do, always so beautiful, except for my name of course.” I teased.
“Rocky was kidding about Grace name. You know that. Just easier to say.” Rocky grumbled.
“I was wondering if you’d ever admit to that, you’re a little weirdo you know that?” I continued to tease him, poking at the ball as he made grabby hands at me from inside, “Tricking a poor innocent alien like me,”
“Grace tricks Rocky all the time, only fair.” Rocky explained, ball finally arriving fully up against my side and gently pressing into me. We were silent for a moment, for my part I was staring off into the screen, the waves, taking in the sensation of the Xenonite against me. I wished more than anything I could feel some warmth from Rocky. That his engineering wasn’t quite so perfect, just this once, that he wasn’t so perfectly insulated. It was selfish, blindingly selfish. Anything to feel him, alive next to me. To hear him would have to be enough.
Rocky was the one to speak again first, tapping the glass next to me, tapping my skin, or, the closest he could ever get to it, “Explain soothing, want to know how Grace skin feels.”
I sighed, leaning back on my hands, “Feels, it feels sensitive, if you’re gentle.” It was so difficult to convey the sensation without having lived it, with anything.
“You always do gentle tap?” Rocky asked.
“Yeah, otherwise it’d get distracting, you know that, you tap me to distract me all the time,” I said, trying to add back some levity, all this talk of touch would get depressing real fast if we weren’t careful.
Rocky bobbed up and down, “Rocky get Grace attention yes,” He sounded so expectant, he wanted to know more, and I didn’t know what to tell him.
To tell him that I missed being touched? That I ached for something, anything else to touch me. That sometimes when his stupid ball rammed into me, I shivered. Like a bolt of lightning through my system. Just from the sensation of something foreign touching my body without me having to manipulate it. How when I closed my eyes to sleep, I felt that searing burn of rock on flesh, though I wasn’t awake to experience it myself, how I dreamed of hugging him.
Nope, nuh uh, no good.
“What does it feel like when something touches you?” I asked instead, and if my voice lilted a little higher than natural then that was my business alone.
“Not feel much, would need to be hard, very hard. Otherwise,” He trailed off, trying to come up with the words, “Otherwise feel far away. Can’t describe, can’t find words,” He settled on, sounding apologetic about it. I felt bad for even asking, in a way, it had been so long since something organic had even tried to touch him. Reaching at him through a layer of impenetrable material wasn’t the same.
The last thing he had touched was me, and I hurt him. My incompatible atmosphere. My hand drifted to my arm unconsciously, covered by my suit, but still under there, his handprint forever seared into my skin. It pulsed as though it had a heartbeat of its own. He would be the last one to ever touch me.
Deep breath, “For me I feel it fully, so much. Some parts of the skin are more sensitive than others, the fingertips, the face, especially the mouth. They need more sensory input, to identify things better, what they’re built for.” I explained, feeling slightly ridiculous, we’d had biology lessons about each other’s species, Rocky already knew about most of this, it felt like a needless repetition. But if Rocky was bored, i'd do whatever he liked, “So when I tap my leg, I feel it mostly through my fingertips. Then, partially through the hairs on my leg, and my leg itself. But, mostly the fingers.”
Hair was a whole other thing that freaked Rocky out, like many parts of the human body and its various openings and orifices. Highly sensitive tiny things sticking out of me continually growing and dying and falling out on repeat seemed terribly disgusting and unpleasant to the poor guy. Things shedding off him usually meant there was something terribly wrong.
Rocky stretched out, tapping the glass, examining the hand I held up when giving my demonstration, “It feel different when Grace other parts of body question? Which part is best part,” Hmm. Not a conversation I feel like having.
What the heck, I suspected by the time this was over we would be closer than any two living things ever should be anyway. In a way we already were. I would probably be mostly incomprehensible to anyone else now I existed like this for so long, some strange mix of isolation, space, Eridian and human. I wondered how much Rocky had changed, he did so many human mannerisms now, he had better grammar, the way he moved, the things he said, all of it still so distinctly foreign from my home yet so deeply familiar to me. Would it be foreign to other Eridians? Had I changed him too much? Should I let myself change him further, am I that selfish?
It was rude, to consider it selfish in a way. He knew what he was doing, he probably had these sorts of intrusive questions plaguing him too. I felt like I could sense it on him, like were slowly becoming one being. Only, it was his home planet we were returning to. It was my selfishness to allow me to stay there, to change his life forever.
I felt myself redden slightly, who was I kidding? I was as red as a tomato, yes I am that selfish, “Uh, the more sensitive areas, I suppose. It gives you the most input, can make you feel, uh,” What in the world was I supposed to tell him? That touch in certain areas can range from unwanted, to a sign of platonic love to something very, very, very different? A not so platonic sign of love, we shall say, “Well, happy. I guess is the best way to put it.”
“If most sensitive is fingers and mouth, would that be best part to touch?” Straight to the worst question imaginable.
I wondered sometimes how he managed to be so perceptive in matters which make me want to explode into a fine mist. Scratch that not the worst question imaginable, my kids when I had to cover a health and wellbeing class had managed worse. I reckon they have the same steadfast goal of tormenting me in mind though.
I feel the urge to bury my head in my hands, and give in, letting out a slight groan of displeasure at the question, “I guess? But I don’t always want the most sensitive parts, it can be overwhelming to be touched there too much,” I tried not to pay too much attention to the fact I’d left out one extremely notable part of the body.
Rocky appeared shocked by that response, but possibly also vindicated in his increasingly critical view of humanity, “Humans so sensitive. Weak weak weak. Overwhelmed when touched? How get anything done.” He scolded.
I let another sound of despair escape me, “It’s not like I go around letting my mouth get touched by people or things man,” I whined. Honest to goodness whined. What was wrong with me? Not enough sleep? I could’ve sworn this was a regular conversation a few minutes ago.
I wish I could get overwhelmed by touch. That sounded really nice about now, and it would never, ever happen again. Unless Rocky managed to change my entire biology about, and even then, I’d never feel human skin that wasn’t my own ever again. God I needed to stop thinking about this right now or else I’d start crying and Rocky would really go in on me then. Leaky human indeed.
He decided it was a great time to throw me another curveball then, just as I was beginning to properly stew in my misery, “Grace should put fingers in mouth, tell Rocky what feels like.”
I choked on nothing, coughing out as air got caught in my throat, “I’m sorry?” I managed after a moment.
“Grace heartbeat faster,” Rocky observed casually, then tilted his carapace, “How did Grace manage to choke? Like Rocky said, sensitive, sensitive, sensitive” He teased.
I spluttered, couldn’t help doing so, the sheer audacity of this guy, “You just told me to stick my fingers in my mouth you weirdo!”
“Not weirdo! Grace weirdo!” Rocky exclaimed, tittering around in his ball, letting out his endearing snorting laugh.
“No I’m not! What the heck man, people just don’t go about sticking their fingers in their mouths,” I managed, not exactly sure how to handle the social cultural aspect of my discomfort, “It’s unhygienic for one, you know we’re just petri dishes of bacteria just begging to get an infection,”
“Yes, am aware, you are very weak. So many holes.” Rocky replied dryly, and what a descriptor, “Just wash hands, all clean then.”
I ran a hand down my face, looking away from my deranged best friend, “Christ on a bike,” I wallowed in my dismay.
“Don’t understand saying, sounds silly.” Rocky criticised, sounding more than usually bratty about it.
“It is silly. You’re silly.” I poked his ball, to which he let out a judgmental little squeak, “I’m not sticking my hands in my mouth.”
Rocky folded his arms in a way that mimicked when I did it, “Grace will, Grace curious like Rocky, heart beating faster like said.”
“That doesn’t mean I’m going to listen to you!”
Another tilt, “Most of time it does,”
Misery. Abject misery. That was the problem with having an uber-intelligent best friend who caught onto things much too quickly. “You’re too perceptive for your own good, no it doesn’t always mean that.” I grumbled.
Look, I was aware that at some point things were just going to have to give. I’d already given up most of my earthly preoccupations with shame and worry with how Rocky saw me. Whether that was a problem or bad or not was beyond me, it didn’t even matter, no other human soul was around to judge how we acted. It only mattered to him and me, and he liked when I gave in, and to my own deep-set guilt it more often felt better when I did. Actually, it always felt better when I did.
Didn’t mean he always pushed, he knew limits, he knew when I was uncomfortable in a way he didn’t like or find amusing. He was the smartest guy I’d ever met of course he’d know. Emotional intelligence across species is no small feat when standards and expectations varied so wildly.
“Just means Grace embarrassed, embarrassed for no reason. Nothing embarrassing about fingers in mouth, just examining.” Rocky explained to me in a softer way, mirroring my own internal debate, how long until we just knew what the other was thinking? Developing telepathy on the way back to Erid could certainly be a way to pass the time, “Rocky wants to know what feels like, should tell me, for science.”
“Yeah, yeah I get it, you’ve given this sales pitch a couple times now, you can’t shock factor me or science me into doing it,” I told him.
Rocky huffed, well, his equivalent of a huff, “You seen Rocky eat.”
I smiled despite myself, “You’ve pulled that card once to many now.”
“Grace still curious, Rocky always knows.” Rocky pointed out.
I pull my knees to my chest, draping myself dramatically around them and sighing, “Look, I can tell you now what it feels like, it feels hot and wet, ‘cause the inside of my mouth is wet,” I said as bluntly as possible, willing my heart to stop going so fast, to stop being so ashamed.
“Yes, Rocky inside wet too. Not water though.” He said, with a note of disgust at the idea.
“Didn’t need to know that,” I did actually, it was my horrible burning curiosity, I needed to know and understand every inch of him and how he worked. It was the same in reverse, I couldn’t judge him for that. He was just the only one brave enough between us to say it.
“Grace already knew that, in Eridian biology lesson.” Rocky trills.
A short laugh, “I don’t know if I’d describe Mercury as wet in the traditional sense, but I guess so.” Was mercury wet? Problem for another day.
“Rocky wants to see, wants to hear described from demonstration, not from memory. Look and feel together.” But Rocky wouldn’t be feeling, it would be my own hand. Would I like it better, be more on board if it was Rocky’s hand? Would he be gentle, how would he taste in my mouth?
Logically, I know it would be disgusting, he is made of rock, it would be like sticking any rock in your mouth and being shocked to find it tasted like the ground and minerals and all around terrible. But, what if it didn’t? What if it felt good, what if I wanted more?
A jolt of horrible want ran through me. Sickening. Rocky would be disgusted with the thought, he hated how wet I was, how leaky, he wouldn’t want to be involved in that. This was just curiosity, plain and simple.
I had to explain to him though, why exactly it was weird. I was sure he knew partially already, but I needed to make sure there were no doubts left, “It is weird, in human culture, to do this without like, a purpose.” I said slowly, figuring my words out, failing to find the best ones, “It’s sort of, well it’s not to do with mating per say. Just, it could be associated with mating activities.” I finished lamely.
Rocky didn’t laugh at me though, he tapped the glass against me, “Understand, occasionally Eridian’s other songs sound similar to mating song, can be embarrassing. Sometimes body misinterpret.”
Against my better judgement I nodded slowly, “I, yeah I guess it is sort of like that.”
He extended his legs up in pride, raising himself high, “Rocky have excellent analogies.” He claimed.
“God.” I press my fingers to my eyeballs, wondering why I always let Rocky talk me into everything. How he manages to systematically erase all that remains of my human decency and sense of shame. “Yeah, yeah, fine, I’ll do it. Let me clean my hands, I’m not getting an infection and dying a slow painful death or wasting all that remains of our meds just because you’re a freak.”
“Rocky not freak! Grace just like listening to Rocky, embarrassed by it. Silly, silly human.” He teased.
Rocky followed me down the hallway, mocking me as he did so, making me regret even further how willing I was to follow his instructions. But I didn’t stop, I didn’t not go wash my hands. Because Rocky was right. I did want to explain it to him, and look, I did sort of just want to stick my hands in my mouth for the sake of it. I hadn’t done anything physically strange in any sense since gaining an alien roommate, or being stuck in space at all, so I think it was fair to indulge a little bit. It wasn’t like I was getting off in front of him or anything.
Cleaning my hands took both a second and a thousand years, done too quickly leaving me in the position to face my own choices leading up to this moment. At the same time the heavy thud of my heartbeat felt like it was going to crush me at any minute the longer I let the silence between us linger.
When I turned back to face Rocky, his carapace was tilted eagerly up to meet me, and he was tapping against the glass as if to see me as clearly as possible. It was surreal, Rocky was such an eager soul, always excited by everything. But seeing him excited about this…
It didn’t feel wrong, but it didn’t fill me with confidence either. It made my insides twist in a way I didn’t like to examine too hard. A way he was managing to do more and more lately.
I stood awkwardly, shifting my weight from one foot to another, before awkwardly starting, “Should I, uh,”
Should I just do it standing here? On the bed? On the floor where we were before? Where and how does one go about these things. I was probably the first and only man to ever be faced with these questions.
“You need instructions, question?” Rocky asked, voice coming across incredibly incredulous in a way that made my already red face burn even brighter.
“No,” I squeaked, “I’ll just sit on the floor,” and I unceremoniously planted myself in front of him.
“Good, good, I can see you better there.” Rocky hummed in a pleased fashion, it made me shiver. Lots of things making me shiver these days. “Want to see Grace clearly, hear sounds Grace makes,”
Another shiver. What sounds would there even me? The wet slide of something moving against the surface of my tongue, my cheeks, pressing down, feeling the give of flesh-
No part of this was advisable whatsoever. I had to get out more. I could not get out more. This was my fate forever. Being weirdly turned on by the idea of my own hand in my own mouth while my alien best friend watched. Being even more weirdly turned on by the fact said alien best friend would be watching and presumably giving commentary on it. Worst news ever, maybe, only trumped by being sent into space on a suicide mission.
Though, not even that was so bad now, I had Rocky. But thinking about things like that was historically very bad for the state of my heart.
I paused, hands laying uselessly in my lap, sort of frowning at Rocky in front of me, probably looking more than usually helpless. After a couple seconds Rocky got agitated, started tapping ball, “Grace not doing, Grace does need instructions, dumb, dumb, dumb,” he said, “Grace put fingers in mouth now, statement,”
I let out a strange little sound, some terrible mix of shame and embarrassment, “Right, my lips,” Oh God I never thought I’d be discussing any part of my mouth with Rocky, is this how he felt about eating? “They’re sensitive too, should I, uh,” I left the question unfinished,
“Touch lips then, gentle,” Rocky exclaimed, and finally with a sense of the absolute absurdity of the situation I did as I was told.
My fingers met my lips, after the initial press of my finger tips, I glided them across the surface softly, feeling the slight tingle across both surfaces as I did so. Then, a slight press, feeling their soft give under such small pressure. I didn’t know what Rocky wanted from this, to see what would happen? He’d seen my lips move so many times, I felt at a loss, bringing my fingers away and looking over at him with a slight desperate air I wasn’t proud of. Feeling the lingering tingle on my lips.
Rocky at least seemed pleased by my initial efforts in the matter, “What Grace feel when gentle question? What do when not gentle, discomfort? Good?” He questioned eagerly, making these high little trilling sounds and clicking his fingers together, excitement, intrigue.
“Tingly, soft, very soft, is there any part of you that’s soft?” I asked, I knew his interior was soft and delicate by his standards, as it was for almost all living creatures, but it was his standards. For all I knew they could be tough as nails, and it wasn’t like I wanted to do a biopsy on the guy, it would have to remain a mystery for now, “I know you think it’s weak,” I added.
“Is weak, even Rocky insides probably not as soft as Grace. Can perform tests later,” I wasn’t sure I liked how in sync we were. It was thrilling, in a way, to be so horrifyingly known, but again that niggling sense of shame. It ate away at me. “So vulnerable, makes me worried. Should not give so easily, should be more protected, gentle, gentle. Easily hurt,”
It was a mixture of pleasurable and horrible to be described in that way. I was being judged for my personal failings, which really were the failings of all humans, while at the same time being so deeply cared for by him. He didn’t want to see me hurt, he didn’t want me to be so vulnerable.
I tilted my head, “Yeah, guess I am sensitive.”
Rocky didn’t let that thought linger long, “Inside mouth now,” He demanded.
I couldn’t help but bark out a laugh, “Okay bossy, I guess question time is over,” I teased.
“No question time not over, Rocky has many more questions, but Grace stalling.” Caught me there, “Embarrassed, silly.” Caught again!
“I get it!” I squeaked, before closing my eyes and rather unceremoniously bringing my index finger and middle finger to my lips and pressing in.
It probably said something about me that I defaulted to those two, but Rocky hadn’t given any more specific instructions so I figured I was free to do as I wished. Did I wish for those two specifically? God a psychoanalyst would have a field day with all of this.
My saliva obviously coated them immediately. I tried my best to focus on all the things I could note down for Rocky. The wetness, the temperature change, much warmer internal temperature. The texture of my mouth, much softer and squishier than my skin, he’d probably be horrified to find I get even more soft and vulnerable. My teeth, still hard, clean-ish, mostly aligned. My tongue, the bumps on it.
I feel my pulse from the inside of my mouth. I feel the steady flow of my blood, how my heart beats erratically, too quickly, too excited. I feel molten from such a simple touch, because he asked me to. Because he wanted me to do this.
“Grace thinking about all details,” Rocky said, clearly rather excited about this little experiment. I wondered with distant concerned what I would be made to do next if this interest of his kept up, “Clever, clever, will describe so well.”
I let out another embarrassed little sound, practically a whine around my fingers and immediately removed then, much to the disappointment of Rocky who let out a sound of disappointment in return, “You can’t say things like that,” I told him emphatically.
“Grace is doing good job!” Rocky exclaimed, offended by my criticism, “Am I not allowed to say so question?”
He’s a little bugger who knew exactly what he was doing. He most absolutely and certainly knew enough about human customs, media, everything to know about what praise does to people-what praise does to me specifically even. He’s observed it! Pretending not to know. I know I can be oblivious but come on.
“Yes, not allowed to say so,” I grumbled.
Rocky made a sad little noise, “But is true. Grace want Rocky to lie?”
I crossed my arms and frowned at him, “I haven’t even told you my findings yet, how do you know?”
“Grace had same face when think of science, know will explain well. Understands what Rocky wants.” This whole thing has been an exercise in my torment, “Know Grace.”
I let out a groan of agony, oh the reality of being so known, so undeniably and unavoidably seen, “Fudging, fudge.” I mumbled.
Rocky trilled, far, far too pleased with himself, “Will tell Rocky about it now statement,”
I gave in. Honestly what else was there to do? All I could do was try my best to prove him right, “It was wet, you see my fingers, there’s a layer of moisture on them now, mouth always producing moisture, saliva.” He knows all the parts and attributes of the human body to a reasonable extent by now, though not always their exact function, “It’s soft, so soft, squishy, gives way. My tongue is more solid.” I trail off.
“Yes, yes, yes, Rocky has clear picture now. Can see it with Grace, feel it with Grace.” Rocky hums excitedly, pressing into my leg through the ball, tapping against the surface,
“Your curiosity satiated now buddy?” I asked, feeling more than a little warm from his descriptions. The praise, the all too knowing attitude. It’s a no good combination.
He hummed again, “Does feel ♩♫♪♩ for Grace?”
I frown, “Huh, don’t have that word,” Sounded sort of familiar, but then again half Eridian words sounded sort of familiar.
“Said similar to mating activity,” Uh oh, “Does feel ♩♫♪♩?”
My natural instinct was to be extremely alarmed by this question, but I tried my best to stay reasonable. I had asked him unthinkable things to ask to another human in the name of science and sheer curiosity, it was only fair I get the same treatment. Even if he did have a penchant for asking more insane things.
I tried to decipher him, “Like, good? Satisfying? Some sort of sexual thing, I’m not sure what you’re getting at here,” I couldn’t help but fidget from where I sat, firmly not looking his way, feeling the slight pruning on my fingertips as I did so.
“Satisfying not quite right, but closer. Sexual is reproduction? Not reproduction, similar.” He clarified, though not very well, this wasn’t helping me at all.
“It,” I stalled, half blanking out at the fact he seemed to be asking me if it was turning me on, or getting me off, or any variation of those things I never ever in my life considered Rocky would ask me. “It sort of feels good, more strange than good,”
Rocky seemed pleased by the answer if his excited little taps were anything to go by, “Why feel good?”
“It uh, couple reasons,” Science, science, reasoning behind bodily reactions not social and cultural conceptions, “Reactionary connection in the brain from one thing to another, reminds you of performing a sexual act, could be done in the lead up to a sexual act, warm and wet and well, uh, fleshy, sort of elicits a specific thought for a lot of people.” Please, please, please do not ask me about that.
“Grace have that thought too, which one Grace think of?” He asked.
I could lie, he’d point it out immediately, there was no point. No point hiding how horribly embarrassed I was, either my nuisance of a roommate could now simply read my heart rate and inform me, “Lead up,” I mumbled.
“Grace likes, would have another human's fingers in mouth?” Rocky asked, it came out almost like a purr, lower, teasing.
I blanked for a moment, fidgeting hands growing more restless, willing my body to behave itself, act normally, “Um,” I said, very intelligently.
Rocky’s hands were splayed against the outside of the ball; he’d be touching my leg if there were no barrier. “Would have Rocky’s fingers in mouth?”
“Rocky!” I let out a groan of despair, he knew I wouldn’t be able to avoid giving myself away.
“Only curious,” Rocky defended himself, he trilled excitedly still, his body language so insistent, so deeply focused, I felt like I was being studied under a microscope and to my own horror I didn’t hate it. I liked how interested he was, scientific reasons or not, I liked his undivided attention, “Grace get dumb when embarrassed, stop being able to speak properly, dumb, dumb, dumb.”
I bit my lip, feeling the pressure, the slide of my mouth, I wondered whether he’d like touching me there, whether he’d like making me shiver first hand. Whether he was actually as disgusted by my bodily fluids as he claimed to be.
“I’m not dumb,” I replied weakly.
“Act dumb then, heart beat fast, blood rushing through body, stop speaking coherently.” He explained, I became more and more restless as his explanations went on, wriggling slightly involuntarily as a way to expel all this excess energy. I willed my lower half to behave itself. It didn’t listen. “Like young inexperienced Eridian.”
My whole body felt like it was thrumming, like Rocky was vibrating me at some low nearly imperceptible frequency and it was doing terrible things to my mind. God, what would it feel like to have him control me like that? To feel his sound in me, oh no, oh no.
“Christ you’re calling me a virgin now?”
It was all on purpose. I knew it without a doubt. He knew what he was doing to me. Knew that I liked it. Knew that I would never want to admit that.
He had the decency to seem a little guilty about the comparison, “Is just saying, common for any Eridian to lose focus during mating at any age.”
Well, at least humans and Eridians had that in common. It was comforting to know we could bond over the experience of arousal. The idea that it was just me going through all this and he was merely pleased by my torment, while appealing in its own right, was certainly secondary to the idea that he got something out of this.
“Yeah?” I said, very coherently, my voice certainly not a pitch higher than usual, “Same with us,”
Rocky let out his devious little laugh, “Can tell. Grace obviously lose focus, not even mating.”
“You suck,” And if Rocky had been my college roommate in undergrad, he would’ve said something akin to ‘you swallow’ but I was lucky enough to be stuck with an alien who probably would have not gotten that joke yet.
It was becoming increasingly difficult to find things to take my mind off this. College roommates? Not helpful, really every single time I tried to distract myself it all came back to Rocky.
He tapped insistently. “Grace look at Rocky now,”
“Bossy again! Who put you in charge huh?” I gave in immediately.
“Rocky doesn’t get distracted thinking of mating, Rocky not so sensitive touch mouth and stop being able focus.” He pointed out with an air of smugness about him, “Where else Grace sensitive? If touch there, will you be unable to think again? Grace described nerve ending, many many many, like in Rocky ♩♫♪♫♫♪,”
Now I technically already knew that word referred to his insides, but I wasn’t quite sure what a good earth equivalent was. Calling it a cloaca or some such thing felt wrong, calling it a mouth also felt wrong, and calling it some form of genitalia… Well, I’d rather pretend I was still oblivious than face facts. A man can have some cowardice. I had never put it in the translator.
It didn’t stop me from being even more turned on by the comparison. Fine, I can finally admit it plainly. It helped that I knew this was Rocky’s entire intention; he was basically designed in a lab to rile me up as much as possible in every single way. This was just another way.
I couldn’t bring myself to reply, just squirmed in my seat, biting my lip harder and made a frankly embarrassing sound. Rocky seemed rather pleased by this response as he made some more cooing sounds, his vents releasing air.
“Grace enjoy?” He said, making small tittering sounds, tapping continually, “Wish could touch Grace, you say that any touch sensitive if gentle, want Grace to touch whole body, describe what feel like.”
I felt all the air leave my lungs in one bewildered sound, I felt lightheaded. “Jesus Christ Rock,”
“Will do for me?” He asked, so sweet, so pleased, tilted towards me expectantly.
I blinked into space, well at him actually, I hadn’t taken my eyes off him since he’d ordered me to start looking, “Yeah, yeah, I will.” I nodded.
I didn’t even wonder what I’d gotten myself into this time. All I wanted to do was listen to him, and really, where was the harm in that?