Manaballs

The memory was stuck in his brain, though. Some months into your trip to Erid, Ryland and Rocky had followed you into the small area designated for your space garden. The conversation was light, you and Ryland teaching Rocky about the different plants and their purposes, what you were hoping to learn by having them in space. 

“This flower will eventually grow into something we can eat,” you point to a bloom that you’ve been carefully cultivating for weeks. “You remember how we talked about pollen?” You look to Rocky expectantly. “Yes, stamen make pollen, pistil use it,” Rocky chirps. You nod, biting your pen while you pull a small sample of yellow dust off the flower. 

“Flower like humans, statement.” That makes you pause, head turning to him with a frown. “What do you mean, Rock?” 

“Human male make pollen, human female use it.” A choked noise sounds from next to you, Ryland throws a hand over his face with a groan. “Rocky, please don’t talk about human reproduction again,” he murmurs, grinning when you let out a loud laugh. 

“Come on, Grace, we can give him another lecture about sex,” you set your notepad down and give him your full attention, “surely you still have so much to say!” His brows shoot to his hairline, eyes flashing, hands landing on his hips while he decides his approach. “Go ahead, then,” he starts, leveling you with a glare, “what do you want to know?” He doesn’t ask Rocky, he asks you. 

Rocky speaks up anyway, “Grace use stamen on mates, question?” His tone is different, he sounds grossed out. You laugh, puffing up your cheeks when Ryland drops his head and sighs. His face is red, hands still on his hips. “This is your fault,” he points at you, smiling when you turn your back to laugh harder. 

“You know what,” he laughs, stepping toward, “I’ve had enough of your teasing.” His arm wraps around your neck, bicep flexing as he puts you in a headlock. His free hand comes up to rub against the top of your head, “you’ve got a big mouth,” he chuckles against you. 

You freeze, feeling his chest against your back, his arm on your throat, his breath in your hair. Fuck, do you have a thing for being put in a headlock? You hadn’t considered it before, but when it’s Ryland’s bicep, Ryland’s voice in your ear? Yeah, that’s a new one for you. 

Rocky perks up, lifting his carapace and tilting, “her heart rate is high, is this mating ritual, question?” Your face heats up, hands pulling Ryland’s arm off of you quickly. He lets go easily, worry flashing across his face. 

You had excused yourself immediately, heading to the other room and busying yourself for a bit. Half an hour passed before Ryland came slinking in, tail between his legs, apologizing for manhandling you. You both let it go after that, agreeing to let bygones be bygones and all that. 

Until you made it to Erid. By the time the biodome was ready for you to move in, you and Ryland were well established in your relationship. He had finally cornered you in the kitchen the morning after his plant class, sliding up behind you while you sip your coffee in front of the window, overlooking the foggy beach made just for you. His arm slipped around your shoulders, bicep tightening around your throat just enough for him to feel you tense a little. 

“I was teaching about your plants yesterday,” he murmured into your hair, “remembered something like this,” he squeezed his arm just a little, reveling in how your breath hitched. “I realized that it might not have made you uncomfortable like I first thought,” he leaned forward enough to take in your profile, “I think you liked it.”

You floundered a little, debating on if it was worth it to deny it, and finally just nodded your head, movement limited by the thick arm cradling your head. 

You let him pull you to bed, let him take you apart with his fingers and tongue, let him build up to what he’d clearly been thinking about. 

And here you are now, kneeling on the sheets, Ryland behind you. His arm is tight around your throat, breath heavy on your hair. He’s practically holding you up, his other arm wrapped around your hips like a seatbelt. You can’t control the sounds he punches out of you with each snap of his hips, can’t do anything but hold on while he takes what he wants. 

“Just needed a bicep to choke you a little, huh?” God, the way he teases you never fails to make your knees weak. “Taking it so good, baby,” he groans right in your ear, “fuckin’ love this, holy shit.” 

His hand flexes beside your head, making his arm squeeze just a little bit more. The moan it rips from your throat is loud, your eyes rolling back. He feels you clench down around him, feels how close you’re getting to losing it. “Gonna come for me, sweets? Gonna let me feel you come on my cock?” His voice is deep, broken whines slipping through his rough exterior. 

He was usually so soft and sweet with you, this rugged version of him was new and exciting. Maybe there was a dom hiding somewhere under all the nerd this whole time? He keeps up his brutal pace, hips slamming into yours hard enough to make you jerk with each thrust. He’s hitting that spot inside you so perfectly, so roughly, it makes you see stars. 

“Take your time, baby,” he grunts softly, “get there when you’re ready.” There’s that care you were so used to. Never rushing you, never pressuring you for anything. “I can do this all night,” his grin is obvious in his tone, you just know he’s getting off on the power. “You can rub your clit,” he whispers, nipping at your ear, “or do you need me to do that, too?” 

He breathes a laugh when you moan, your hips rolling back into him, your head tipping back against his shoulder. He’s supporting most of your weight, holding you tightly to him, controlling both of your movements. “Y’feel so good, so warm and tight,” he leans back just a little, pulling you with him, changing the angle just enough. 

He manages to sink in deeper, feeling how your slick leaks down his shaft and sticks to his thighs. “Dripping all over me,” he grins, “sexy as hell how much you love this.” And he feels you clench, feels you shake, and groans when he feels you tip right over the edge. Your breath hitches, hands locking on his arms as you shiver through your high. “Yes, baby,” he whispers, grunting with the effort of keeping up his rhythm when you’re squeezing him so tightly. 

A few more thrusts and he slams home, holding you against him firmly while he whimpers into the side of your head. He pants for a moment, admiring how pliant and relaxed you feel under him. You grab his arm and pull, sighing when he finally eases up and lets you fall forward. You burrow into the pillows, groaning when he lays his whole body on top of yours. He kisses down your spine, across your shoulders, pushes your hair away from your neck so he can check for any marks. 

“You did so good, sweetheart,” he whispers into your skin, “s’perfect for me.” You smile, turning your head enough to see him. “You’re really strong, Ry.” He smiles, shifting up and over so his head is next to yours, placing a sweet kiss to your lips. “I haven’t been using it to my advantage, I think,” he laughs, stroking your cheek gently. “I could’ve been throwing you around this whole time.” 

You laugh along with him, nodding with a hum, melting under his soft touch.

---------------