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“I don't know what we should watch next! Sorry, Rock!” I sigh apologetically and pout.
“Keep looking!” Rocky grumbles. “Must find something else on human thinking machine!” He waves his claw at my laptop.
“Yeah, I know, but we’ve already watched all of Star Trek ever and all of the MCU films, every flavor of Star Wars, the director’s cut of The Lord of the Rings — three times, and God knows what else. And I’m not watching 50 Shades of Grey with you, I’m sorry. I wish they had used the storage space for something else.”
“Keep looking!” Rocky repeats, stomping his claw into the ground.
“Shut up, 's what I’m doing!” I hiss at him, frantically clicking my way through the folders.
We’re kinda bored out of our minds here, now that we dealt with the astrophage. The laptop sustained us for a long while. We also tried playing various board games, and coming up with workarounds for Rocky’s blindness alone had kept us occupied.
I love spending time with Rocky, I do. I can talk about anything in the universe with him. But the problem is, it feels like my brain is itching. I need something to do, a problem to solve, a project to complete. And I know that Rocky feels the same way. Daily taumoeba farm monitoring doesn't really cut it. Even so, Rocky and I fight over who gets to do it. Unfortunately, there are still years of this journey left to fill. Did I spend the entire morning today studying the underside of my nails? Maybe. But hey! At least we didn’t die.
“Grace can explain his body instead,” Rocky says.
“Huh?”
“Rocky need to know everything to help if Grace sick or try to die.”
This level of care makes my heart flutter. But it’s also intense and overstepping. Very much Rocky's style.
“I don’t try to die all that often!” I say defensively. “And Armando takes care of me when I get sick.”
“Need backup plan,” Rocky insists.
“There’s plenty of information on this laptop. You can look it up if I get sick.”
“Time not critical in human medicine, question?”
“No, it’s critical. Time is muscle—heart muscle, that is. Time is brain. Human tissue doesn’t do well with oxygen deprivation, even for short periods of time. And with something like sepsis, a single hour can make all the difference.”
“So Rocky concern valid," Rocky concludes, tapping his claw at every word for extra sass. He just loves being right.
“Okay, okay. Fine,” I sigh, pushing the laptop aside and spinning in my chair. "What do you wanna know? Do you want the grand tour of what I'm built of?"
"Yes," he says simply.
"That’s way too much. But okay, let's start somewhere. So, as you know, I’m completely covered in this tissue called skin. It’s soft and elastic. It’s our outermost layer of protection.”
“How can soft skin be protection, question?”
“Well, it’s mostly to ward off germs and toxins. It won’t help much if you stab me with something sharp, though, so maybe don’t do that. I guess that’s lesson number one for you.”
"Grace talk with Rocky like Rocky stupid," he grumbles.
"Well, I'm learning from the best! Anyway, my squishy vital organs are around here, including my heart.”
I wave my hand in front of my torso.
“I only have one, so be careful with it! But I also have bones, those are pretty hard. For example, these are my collarbones.”
I drum my knuckles against them.
“You can probably tell how far they’re protruding from my body. And um— ”
I lift off my shirt.
“These are my ribs, I have twelve pairs of them, and they build something called a ribcage, protecting my heart and lungs. Then there’s my pelvis. This part is my hipbone.”
I get up and step towards Rocky, hitting his ball gently with the side of my hip.
“You heard that thunk? It’s pretty hard on the inside.”
“Endoskeleton,” Rocky mutters.
Does he think it’s disgusting to have the squishy parts on the outside and the hard parts on the inside? I can't tell.
“Grace show lower part, too.”
“Uhh, there’s not much going on there," I stammer.
Rocky trills and gesticulates angrily at me.
“Okay, okay, Christ— ”
I reluctantly shimmy out of my pants.
“So, um, these are my legs — I’m bipedal, as you know. The pointy things are my knees. Big joints, just like the elbows on my upper extremities. So yeah, that's the quick rundown. But you don’t actually need to know all of that to, you know, bring me back to life. However, you can’t do CPR on me anyway. You can’t even touch me.”
“Rocky figure out how to touch Grace. Not Grace job. Grace job is explain and teach,” Rocky explains, bossy as ever.
“Okay. Well, assuming you can touch me someday, I can teach you what I told my students when we covered first aid. So, what you want to do is find a song that’s about 100 to 120 beats per minute. I'm sure we'll find some on the laptop. Stayin’ Alive is a classic. But technically, there are tons of suitable songs, such as Highway To Hell or Pink Pony Club. I was told it wasn’t a good idea to actually hum them during resuscitation efforts, though. Grieving families don’t appreciate that. But personally, I won’t mind it if you use Pink Pony Club on me.”
“Okay, use song to keep Grace alive, good concept. Could be Eridian," Rocky chitters happily.
“Yeah, I guess.” I chuckle. “So next, you'd find my sternum in the middle of my chest. It's a flat bone at the front of my ribcage.”
I take off my shirt to properly show him and run my fingers down the ridge where my pectorals meet. It’s a bit clammy.
“That's where you want to do the chest compressions, right in the middle of it.”
“What are the appendages left and right, question?”
“You mean the... Those are my nipples. They’re for the younglings to latch onto and feed on milk — a nutrient-rich fluid. So, technically, these are a source of food, and thus ultimately disgust to you. But only female humans can produce milk; male humans can’t. Still, all humans come with those preinstalled."
“If Grace not produce food, then no disgust," Rocky points out. "Grace nipples bigger than usual," he adds.
“I see you’ve been paying attention,” I say dryly. “Yeah, that tends to happen when it’s cold or — well, it’s currently cold. I’m not wearing much right now, you know, thanks to your newly found interest in my body.”
Indeed, I’m standing in front of him just in my boxers.
“Grace has grooves on his abdomen,” Rocky states, his claw now pointing somewhere around my belly button.
“These are my abs. Muscles. All humans have them, but some people have more body fat, so they are not as noticeable. Mine were artificially maintained during the coma, so they are quite prominent. But once the malnutrition kicks in, I’ll have to kiss those goodbye. So, uh… enjoy while you can, buddy.”
I don't know why I said it like that. On the other hand, I don't think he understands that the shape of my muscles could be considered erotic to other humans, so I'm sure it just went over his head.
His claw moves even further down.
“And what is this, question?”
“What do you mean?” I ask, with a slight concern growing in me.
He rolls up closer to me and points exactly at the seam of my boxers.
“This.”
“Um… those are my sex organs down there. I thought you would’ve figured that out by yourself.”
“Grace show Rocky.”
“No way!” I gasp.
“Why not, question? Research!” He fusses.
“Yes, but it’s very private. For mate only.”
"Grace have no mate."
"Yeah, exactly. So, actually, these parts are only for me."
Now that I said that out loud, it does sound a little depressing.
“I show you mine if you show me yours.”
Interesting choice of phrase.
Well, of course I’d like to see his. It’s not like I haven’t been wondering. Extraterrestrial life forms are basically my field of work, and to my knowledge, no other scientist has ever gotten so close to seeing alien sex organs.
So, I say the only thing that makes sense and the one that I hope my peers back on Earth would expect of me.
“Okay. For science.”
Rocky doesn't waste time. He rolls up closer to me and turns his carapace so that his underside faces me. His usually tightly closed vertical seam loosens slightly, revealing soft pinkish folds beneath that flutter in my general direction. I lick my suddenly very dry lips and move towards him to take a better look. I’d only ever seen these parts that one time I watched Rocky eat, but that was just a glimpse. It wasn’t nearly as revealing.
A long glistening structure slips out of his slit with a squelching sound, soaked in silvery liquid. That must be his ovipositor. His orifice flutters in a come-hither motion again.
The mesh panel on his xenonite ball is pulling me in. It’s ridiculous, really. I’m so close to him, but can’t touch him. Not even a little bit.
“Now Grace,” Rocky commands, tilting his underside down again.
His voice makes me snap out of it.
Right. My turn.
I look away immediately, diverting my gaze from Rocky, trying to ignore the heat spreading in my groin.
“Um, yeah, sure. And thank you,” I say hoarsely. There are some more words at the tip of my tongue, but they’re not words a scientist would use during this strictly professional exchange.
“Sex organ usually smaller,” he adds, before I can even process anything.
Oh. Yup, I have a raging boner right now. It’s spilling out of my boxers — you wouldn’t need echolocation to tell. I was so taken with what I saw that I hadn't noticed how my own body had reacted.
Reacted to him.
“How long have you been collecting data on my penis?” I furrow my brows.
And what’s the point of showing it to him if he’s already studied it extensively? It’s not like this thin layer of cotton is making much of a difference. Then again, the tenting looks ridiculous.
“Rocky can always tell,” he says, not really answer “Usually smaller and softer, now big. Why, question?”
“Human penises go hard when they fill up with blood. It happens when we’re ready to mate,” I narrate calmly, my teacher voice on. “But sometimes, it also happens at random… Like now. Which is in part why humans wear clothes. Not everyone is supposed to see that.”
“Rocky would like to touch penis.”
My mouth feels dry, and I try to swallow even though there’s nothing in there.
“For research. Right?” I ask, my voice cracking.
“For research.”
“Well, I’d totally let you, but you can’t.”
Would I?!
“Grace tell Rocky what touching Grace feels like.”
Holy moly.
“Grace not know, question?”
My dick feels so hard that it could rip my boxers to shreds. I don’t even know when the last time was that I felt so much want. If we keep talking like this, I will have to take care of this situation anyway.
“I know,” I say nonchalantly — or I try to sound nonchalant. “But it’s been a while. How about I show you?”
“Yes, Grace demonstrate!” he says eagerly.
I pull my boxers down and shiver a little in the cold air. The air feels intense against my skin, even though there’s no wind and no movement. Just 0.21 atmospheres of oxygen and nothing else to stimulate me. Most importantly, there’s no one I could touch, no matter how much I wanted to.
My dick is leaking already. I lick my right palm and spit into it for good measure before I firmly grip my shaft with it.
“Leaky disgust!” Rocky chitters.
“You wanted to know! I’m only doing it for you!” I grin at him. “So, the way it feels is… It’s hard. It’s warm. Smooth. If you use some… lubrication, in this case the disgust stuff, you can glide down on it just like that,” I say as I start pumping up and down.
“How this feel for Grace, question?”
Rocky moves very close to the mesh section of his ball, watching. Well, not watching but definitely… paying attention.
“Feels really good,” I say, my voice breaking up. “But it’s better if someone else does it.”
I might need to sit down. I haven’t touched myself like this in a while, what with Rocky always being around and me being scared he’d suss me out. Privacy is scarce these days.
I kneel down, aligning myself with him, my hand still yanking away at my cock. I close my eyes, but even when I do, it’s still just Rocky I can see. So I might as well just keep staring at him. He doesn't seem to mind.
“Grace need help, question? Grace breathing hard.”
“No,” I heave. “I’m good.”
I’m not sure how he wanted to help, but in any case, he’s doing enough. He’s doing it for me.
And Rocky’s right; my breathing gets choppy, and my heart thuds wildly somewhere between my chest and stomach. The grip on my cock feels good, but at the same time, unbearable.
Why can I not touch him?
I put one hand on Rocky’s ball because I need some kind of physical connection.
Rocky thuds his carapace against it. Something electric goes through me.
I need more.
So I shift over and sit beside him, pressing my side against his ball to increase our contact area, while still making sure I can see all of him.
“Can you do that again, buddy?” I ask, reaching for my cock again.
He thumps against the xenonite once more, making my skin tingle and my cock clench.
I put my hand on the xenonite panel, and he reciprocates immediately. We'd be holding hands if we weren't holding xenonite.
I do a few gentle taps against the barrier.
“You remember how we used to do that?”
He taps back at me, right where I’m pressed up against him, against my chest, then against my stomach, then lower.
“Keep doing that, bud,” I whisper, and he complies.
They’re just taps. They tickle a little. But it’s better than nothing.
Then he leans against me with another thud and starts to vibrate. It's barely-there, but soon enough, his vibrations come in a steady rhythm of pulses. When was he gonna tell me that he could do that?
I readjust myself and spread my legs around him, pressing up my balls into the xenonite. The pulses now circle my entire body, getting stronger and more frequent. They send a twitch through my cock, making it beg for some kind of release. My vision tunnels.
My best friend is an oversized alien vibrator. How did I not know that? This is like a fever dream. But a good one.
I try to rub my length against the xenonite. The ball is way too hard and doesn’t feel that nice, but somehow, there’s a tinge of pleasure mixed in. It’s mostly the realization that I’m physically so, so close to Rocky, that I could almost smear my precum on him, and spill onto him when I inevitably finish. Almost.
Eventually, I have to stop, though, and switch to my trusty hand again; the chafing is now hard to ignore.
Peering at Rocky through the mesh again pulls what little blood is left in my brain straight down into my lower abdomen. The remnants of my sluggish neurons try to haggle with me, suggesting I could touch Rocky if I really wanted to. Would a chemical burn of just one finger be that bad? What about one fingertip?
I’m tiptoeing on the edge of an orgasm the whole time, but I’m trying desperately to hold back; I don’t want to come just yet. This is good, ridiculously good, and I don’t know if I’ll ever get to be like this with him again.
I take a close look at Rocky. He seems affected, too, still vibrating, his carapace rippling softly like I’ve never seen before. I'd been so preoccupied with myself I hadn't even noticed.
This kind of sucks. Rocky is important. I should’ve been paying more attention to him.
I look him up and down and see some metallic liquid pooling at the bottom of his ball, right beneath his slit. One more splash of liquid mercury leaves his insides and drips down, then another.
“Um… are you okay, bud? Are you hurt?"
“Rocky good. Good to hear and study Grace. Not hurt. Experiencing sexual desire."
"Oh. You‘re aroused! New word! Didn't realize we'd be needing that one.”
A rush builds inside me, making me feel stupidly giddy. He feels desire for me. For me. A leaky space blob, was it? Well, apparently, that’s what he likes. I’ll make sure he won’t hear the end of it later.
“And when you say you want to touch me, you don't just mean touch me. You want to give me pleasure."
"Yes, Grace."
"Okay. Good. Me too,” I say, beaming back at him.
I put my hand on my cock again and pick up right where I left off, faster and harder now.
“Well, if you're enjoying this,” I huff between moans that now escape my mouth completely unstifled. “You should’ve told me earlier. I would’ve shown you.”
“No. Grace always deflect. Stupid stupid stupid.”
His words make my thighs shudder. They’re helping in some weird way. I’m gonna end up shooting my load to the sound of my best friend roasting me, aren’t I? And I don't even mind.
Rocky quickly notices that he has an effect on me and doubles down.
“Stupid Grace. Useless human. Always needs his Rocky for everything.”
“Yes, I need you,” I moan, wishing my hand to be Rocky's slippery pink flesh.
Rocky tilts his carapace a little. I can see his orifice opening up, shiny and moist and ready.
“Oh God, I want to touch you,” I whimper.
“For research, question?”
Under different circumstances, the innocence of his question would probably have made me laugh.
“No!” I shake my head fervently. “Because I want you to.”
“I want you,” I finally add after a moment of hesitation, still thrusting into my hand.
“Rocky want Grace,” he answers immediately.
I gasp and almost come right then, right there.
I stop what I was doing. My cock throbs at the abrupt loss of touch. His words ring in my ears.
He waits for me patiently while I try to make sense of this. This is a lot to process at once. Physically, emotionally… hell, spiritually, I don’t know. I doubt that he fully understands what he just said to me. And yet, my bud here is suddenly so much more than that.
We can both agree that this isn't an anatomy lecture anymore. I feel like we're finally touching the topic we've spent months dancing around.
“God, Rock — I wish I could be there with you right now,” I mutter.
“I know,” he hums sadly. “Grace continue, question?”
“Yeah, sure! So, um… wait, does it feel good for you to touch yourself as well?”
“Yes, good to touch! But won't distract Grace! Grace get his job done first!”
“Oh, buddy, we're way past distracting now. Please, touch yourself for me,” I beg him.
Rocky takes one of his claws and reaches for his underside, drawing circles around his dripping entrance, winding them tighter and tighter. I put my hand down on my throbbing cock, studying him. I make a mental note to memorize his movements and patterns — not like I'll ever get to touch him down there, but what if I do? With a sudden and confident motion, he thrusts his claw inside his hole and starts grinding down on it.
“Fuck!” I yelp, realizing that my dick got even more sensitive now.
“Grace not okay, question? Grace usually not use expletives.”
I press my forehead against the xenonite, fogging the panel in front of me.
“Come on, pal,” I pant. “You’re smarter than that. You’re a smart little guy. Or am I making you stupid right now?”
Rocky shakes, more liquid squirting from his slit, his claw completely wet and sticky.
“I’ll take that as a yes,” I chuckle. “That’s ridiculously hot, Rock, do you know that? You’re so beautiful like this.”
“Grace keep talking to Rocky,” he purrs at me.
They’re sound-oriented creatures. Yeah. That makes sense.
“Talking gets you off? Okay, yeah... I’ll talk to you, pal. I’ll help you.”
I’ve never been much of a dirty talker. I try changing my voice a little. The voice that makes him quiver the most and sends the most juices trickling down his limbs, that’s the one I’m sticking with.
I find myself imagining having those juices on me, on my face, in my mouth. Hypothetically, at least. I know it’s mercury. But I want this to be real so bad. Just giving him pleasure, messy fallout and all.
“Rock, we’ll figure it out someday. You’ll figure it out, I guess. We will be together. And when we do— ”
I have to go a little bit slower because I’m once again almost on the edge, precum pulsating from my tip.
“I’ll be all over you. I’ll be inside you, if you let me — and do everything to you with my hands, my mouth, my cock. Everything you want me to. I’m gonna make you feel good. I’m gonna make you sing.”
Rocky shudders. Then shudders again some more. The fleshy entrance of his hole begins to tremble and close in on his claw snugly.
“Yeah, Rock, just let loose now,” I urge him.
He eventually lets out a loud startled whine, then falls on his side, mercury gushing out of him, his orifice muscles twitching.
When I see it, I pretty much explode in every sense of this word. I see stars behind my eyelids. My cum flies in the air, and some of it lands on Rocky’s ball.
“Sorry,” I croak, trying to catch my breath, my cock convulsing helplessly and spilling the rest of its load somewhere between my legs. “Hey, are you okay?”
“Rocky good good good,” he coos quietly. He sounds spent, but happy, like me. Not bossy. Vulnerable. And at least in this moment — mine.
“Armando, can I get a towel? I'll clean you right up, Rock, don't worry.”
“And, uh… Rock?” I speak to him hesitantly. “This human anatomy lesson—”
“Rocky want to learn more,” he chimes melodiously. His voice still sounds shaky. I guess he also needs a breather.
I chuckle, pleased with his answer. So, that’s a relief. We can just… keep doing this, at least until we get to Erid, and then we’ll just see. Maybe we don’t have to define what this is, or put a label on it. Not until we’re on Erid, at least. Let’s hope Adrian is just as woke as Rocky told me, otherwise I’m in big trouble.
But… is that it? I'm not the lustful idiot I was a couple of minutes ago. But I know I still need him. I still want him. I want to grab him, kiss him, whisper sweet nothings into his vents. It wasn’t just some spur of the moment thing. And it’s not just physical. He’s… my person. My Rocky.
I look at my cum slowly dribbling down his ball and draw a little heart in it.
“What is this, question?”
“It’s a heart.”
“Human heart look like this, question?”
“Well… not exactly.”
“Rocky no understand.”
“Yeah, humans are a bit weird. When we draw it like that, it’s our symbol of love.”
“Love, question?”
I smile at him tenderly and quickly wipe the heart away, as if ashamed of something. So, I masturbate for him, but this is what I’m ashamed of?
“Yeah. I love you, Rock. I love you so much,” I say, my eyes suddenly wetter than any other part of my body. I always got so sappy around him. That should’ve clued me in a long time ago.
“Rocky love Grace!” he trills, evidently not having to fight himself over it as much as I did just now.
“Are you sure? I know you love me as a friend. But I love you like a partner. Like a mate.”
“Yes, Rocky understand. Love love love Grace. Want to be mates.”
I put my hand back on his ball. Sometimes it gets hard to believe that there’s someone real on the other side of that barrier. Someone who could actually love me.
When it finally hits me, I let out a relieved sob.
“I’m so happy, Rocky!”
“Grace leak all over my ball, now leak all over his face. Always leaking,” Rocky mumbles.
“Hey! You leaked too!”
Rocky shifts bashfully.
“Rocky leak a little bit.”
“Stop lying, you were dripping wet!” I laugh. “But I liked it.”
“Rocky likes leaky Grace too.”
“So, um… do you think we’ll ever find a solution?” I ask wistfully. “So that we, you know… leak on each other for real?”
“Yes, Rocky fix.”
“Good. Now get in here,” I say and wrap him in a big tight hug. His ball is still a little bit sticky. I put greedy wet kisses all over it.
"Rocky aroused," he murmurs.
"What, again? Already?"
And just like that, our journey back to Erid doesn't seem boring at all. Good thing we always took research seriously.
"Just give me a minute, Rock. I might need one minute.”