Chapter Text
It was movie night again aboard the Hail Mary. There wasn't much else to do on their way to Erid beyond checking on the Taumoeba and the small hydroponic garden Y/N and Ryland managed to grow using the seeds from the freeze-dried fruits and vegetables Stratt provided them.
She was sandwiched between both of them with Rocky now in a new form-fitting xenonite suit. He held his crystalline device in one of his hands to replicate what they were seeing on his tablet.
Y/N was practically pressed up against Ryland, the warmth of his skin seeping through her clothes. She stopped paying attention to the movie ages ago, more content to stare at Ryland while he had his eyes glued to the screen. He had his glasses on properly for once and his hair was a mess, damp still and smelling like soap. Her breath hitches and a sudden ache settles below the zipper of her flight suit. Quickly she becomes painfully aware of the damp spot forming on the gusset of her underwear— put there by Ryland Grace and his stupid pretty face. She moves away from him and stands.
The loss of her body against his shoulder tears Ryland away from the movie, he looks up at her, "everything okay?"
“Yeah, just um— I need to use the bathroom,” she says, “I’ll be back soon.”
“Do you want me to pause the movie?” Ryland offers and Y/N shakes her head.
“No, that wouldn’t be fair to Rocky but I’m sure you’ll fill me in when I get back. Won’t be long.”
She leaves, moving through the lab to get to their shared bedroom. The door slides shut behind her and she unzips her flight suit, pulling her tank top over her head and wiggling out of her panties, climbing into bed. She sinks slightly onto the hard mattress and takes a deep breath, stretching her limbs, groaning when something pops.
Y/N can't remember the last time she masturbated. Too busy saving Earth and Erid and too anxious about getting to Rocky in time to even consider it. But now, on their journey back to Erid she had time. Ten minutes, that’s all she needed. She settles back against her pillows and her hands and imagination wander.
Her mind drifts to Ryland. His fluffy blond hair, his deep blue eyes and stupid glasses, those big arms that have no business belonging to a molecular biologist. Her fingers drift lower, tracing the curve over her breasts, circling her nipples until they harden. A soft sigh escapes her lips as she imagines its Ryland’s hands touching her. His large hands, rough and warm, hesitant at first then growing bolder.
“Oh, Ryland,” she sighs into the empty room, falling deeper into the fantasy, picturing him hovering above her, his glasses askew. Opening her thighs she slips a hand between them, gasping at the slickness she finds there, soaked and dripping onto the mattress cover. She drags her fingers up her opening, circling her clit with the pads of her fingers, whining into the pillow.
She slowly works herself up, caressing her breasts with her free hand, pinching at stiff nipples while she thrust her fingers in and out of her cunt, rubbing circles around her clit. She was squirming on the small mattress, eyes screwed shut, moans and whimpers bouncing off the walls. She was too far gone, chasing that ever-tightening coil, to hear the door open and the sound of five legs tapping on the metal floor.
When Y/N didn’t return after the usual 300 seconds it took for her to relieve herself, Rocky grew concerned, worried that something might be wrong. He stilled and listened for her footsteps— so much lighter than Grace— but he couldn’t hear anything above the movie. Making sure to let Grace know he was going to look for Y/N, he scuttled away, checking the bathroom first. Empty. He checked the lab. Empty. He checked the cockpit. Empty. Trying not to panic, he tried the only other place on the ship she could be; the bedroom.
When he entered his carapace sagged slightly in relief only to rise again when he saw the state she was in, writhing in the middle of her bed. She was making such sweet, high-pitched sounds that made an unexpected heat pool at the bottom of his carapace. Rocky could feel his ventral seal open slightly and shudders. He pushes his new, blooming desire for the human in favour of concern for his friend.
“What Y/N doing, question?”
Her eyes flew open and she looked down at Rocky, her hand stopped moving. She gasps in shock, trying to cover herself. “Rocky!” she says, heart hammering in her ears. “What did Grace and I say about knocking?”
“Y/N did not return to the movie,” Rocky states, climbing up onto her bed, the mattress sinking under his weight, “Rocky worried something was wrong.”
“I’m fine,” she says, clit pulsing with neglect. She was so close. “I’m not hurt.”
“Oh,” he perks up, “then what were you doing, question?”
“Uh…masturbating,” she replied, cringing a little.
“New word, don’t understand,” says Rocky.
Y/N blinks and rubs her forehead, “right— it’s uh— it’s uh…self-stimulation,” she sits up, blanket pooling around her hips, “mating with yourself.”
“Why, question?”
“Why?” Y/N parrots, “uh…because it feels good. Sometimes when humans get excited— uh, aroused, they stroke their reproductive organs themselves until they finish— reach sexual climax.”
“Oh, I understand,” Rocky says, “did Y/N finish, question?”
A sudden image of Ryland on top of her, thrusting in her cunt flashes behind her eyes and she shivers, clit pulsing. She adjusts and answers Rocky’s question.
“Uh…no. No I didn’t, you kind of interrupted me.”
Rocky was quiet for a moment, chirping something to himself that she couldn’t understand. “Rocky help Y/N, question?”
Her brain short-circuits and she blinks dumbly at her alien friend, “what?”
“Rocky interrupted Y/N, Y/N did not reach sexual climax, Rocky want to help.”
Y/N should tell Rocky no. She should stop this in its tracks, nip it in the bud. She should put her clothes back on and lock herself in the safety of her cockpit. She should go find Ryland and finish the movie, maybe find a way to turn fantasy into reality. Y/N should do a myriad of things before even considering accepting Rocky’s help with this. But he was here, in his xenonite suit, offering. She should tell him no and yet she doesn’t. Y/N nods and lies back on her elbows. She parts her thighs for him with a shaky breath.
”Okay,” she says, “you can help.”
"Good, good, good," Rocky says, whirring with excitement.
“But you gotta be quick okay,” Y/N warns, taking Rocky’s small hand and guiding it between her legs. She shudders to think of what he would say if he were to catch them like this, to see her naked, spread out with Rocky’s hands on her body. “Don’t want Grace to see.”
”Understand, Rocky will be quick this time,” he says, small fingers ghosting over her folds, coating the xenonite in her slick, “explore Y/N’s body later, statement.”
”Wait, what— Ah!” Y/N cries out when he presses down on her clitoris, falling back against her pillows, “Rocky!”