I LOVE YURI; reqs open

Naturally, everyone involved is curious. The Eridians sing, you assume with glee, at your arrival, claws opening and closing in a rather adorable display of happiness, and you have a distinct feeling it's because there is a new, unlikely addition to their human collection.

No, really. What are the chances that the Eridians would meet three different humans from different places?

It's not bad, them being this curious and inquisitive. Being studied doesn't feel as condescending as it could've been when they're polite as can be about it.

What feels bad is Grace, Simon and Rocky being curious about your past, and your time in the Tulpar. Your crew.

Simon, because he has been alone in the submarine. Grace, too, had been alone until Simon was found, despite having a crew of his own aboard the Hail Mary. He lost them before his mission started, or so he said. You didn't want to pry too much, though he did divulge that the deaths happened in an induced coma which they never woke up from, so it's safe to say it has been a relatively painless for the deceased. Rocky's twenty-two crew members passed away because of radiation poisoining, Grace had said as additional information.

"Rocky could not fix." The Eridian had supplied, with Grace resting a hand over the xenonite as a gesture of comfort, and oh, your heart hurts. He had to watch his crew die while being able to do nothing to save them.

Meanwhile, you contributed to the deaths of your crew.

None of the events they've mentioned are even remotely similar to what you have been through. While your circumstances forced your hand to sign a contract and work for Pony Express, you can't say you were forced into the ship like Grace or Simon. Hell, all three of them, including Rocky, were out on life-changing missions, planets and lives depending on them, while you've just been moving cargo.

Not even something important like food or supplies. Something as insignificant and useless as mouthwash.

What even are you supposed to tell them?

That the second-in-command forced himself onto the medic, then crashed the ship against an asteroid when he learned the entire crew sans the Captain would be laid off, half-killing the Captain, driving the pregnant medic to suicide, manipulating the intern into maiming himself to the point he had to be put down out of his misery with an axe to the face by his mentor, shooting said mentor in the head, trying to get the barely alive Captain into the only functioning cryo-pod before both were killed by you?

Oh, and there was also cannibalism involved at some point.

No. .... No! What are you doing? They have names. They had names. Ones you cannot shake away simply by using language to distance yourself from them. Severing your connection to them should not come so naturally after everything that happened.

Anya, oh, Anya, who was endlessly more capable than she gave herself credit for, with her medical skills far surpassing what the crew deserved, despite her record of having failed getting into medical school eight times. Anya, who resorted to diplomacy instead of violence by confiding in Curly after what Jimmy did to her.

Swansea, who was a pain to put up with due to his rough exterior, even though you could tell he wasn't a bad person deep down. Perhaps broken and battered, though never intenting real harm to you or anyone you cared about. A half-baked, less than ideal mentor who just wanted the best for his intern, to be there for him in a way he could not with his own children.

Daisuke. Oh, the sunshine intern who tried his best despite not being equipped for it, who only wanted to make his parents proud, wholly undeserving of his cruel fate.

Curly, the seemingly capable Captain who was rendered useless by misplaced affection for his friend, and has indirectly doomed you all. Curly, whom you bitterly laughed in the face of when administering his medicine in Anya's place, now that he finally knows what it's like when your autonomy is taken from you. That he is alive and has failed you all.

Jimmy was the piece of shit that wrecked everything, the very scum of the earth who had the gall to even exist, after everything he's done, in denial and blind about his wrongdoings as ever. Blaming the crash on Curly, raping Anya and impregnating her, pressuring Daisuke in the vents, trying to treat the injuries he sustained from that little adventure with mouthwash despite Anya clearly having said it would infect the wounds, then killing Swansea—

... Killing him has felt nowhere near as satisfactory as it should've been.

Dragging Curly out of the cryo pod and killing him also felt more like petty revenge and closure rather than a final act of mercy as it was intended.

Everyone — the Eridians included — feel so... patient. Accepting. They're not pushing you for answers you're not ready to give despite you invading their space, and them being the providers of everything you have on Erid, be it your shelter, food, or possessions.

You're not sure how much longer you can drag out hiding behind a "traumatising event" when the only reason why you're not sharing your past is because you don't want to lose the one place that feels like you belong.

Tulpar was a temporary alliance of people with unfortunate circumstances that tried sticking together to get through it all. Erid, with Simon and Grace and Rocky and every other Eridian involved, feels like home.

The dilemma weighs heavily on you, you're aware. Those around you are also aware.

Simon looks at you like he knows exactly what you're feeling, but can't bring himself to ask about it. Like he has you all figured out. Like him opening up would be like baring his neck under your blade, and expecting you to show the same vulnerability in hopes of... what? Coming to an understanding?

Instead, he settles for making your day a little easier in small ways. Like setting out your designated mug on the counter so you can pour your coffee readily if you're still asleep, or pouring one for you with a small "I got you" when he hears you making your way over to the kitchen. Picking up stuff you left lying around and putting them where they belong when he knows you haven't deliberately placed them there. Airing out your room so it's not stuffy when you come back, especially when you need to hole yourself in for some alone time.

Grace, on the other hand, is not subtle as he thinks he is. Some might think his furrowed brows and wistful eyes are him pitying you, though knowing him, he's likely just being empathetic of your situation. He is much more vocal than Simon — which doesn't take a lot in the first place, considering Simon just doesn't show his concern by speaking, likely because he doesn't know where he stands or whether he even has the right to pry — often checking up on you verbally instead. "Doing alright?" and "Something on your mind?" and every other variant available gets tossed around, and if you're not in the mood to talk, he simply raises an arm in a silent invitation you never pass up, slithering under his arm for a hug. He's warm and comforting in a way you didn't think possible,with an uncanny effect of making your worries stop buzzing in your mind the moment your head hits his shoulder.

All the more reason for you to come clean. They deserve to know.

"Hi, Rocky," you greet the engineer, trying to avoid shuffling in place to hide your nerves, even though he can probably see your distress in the form of your hammering pulse or other elements in your body you're not fully aware of. "... Is it possible for us to make a trip to the Tulpar again?"

".... Ship name of friend, question?" Comes from the speakers.

"Yes." you nod, "Where you found me."

"Yes. Possible." Two taps of his claws on the floor, inquisitive, though you pick up on the shift in tone halfway through his Eridian sentence. "Rocky was under the impression— thinking — ...... if friend wants. Statement." The computer doesn't pick up on the nuance, though the string of words get his thought process well enough.

"I..." you start, hesitant, "I don't have good memories on the ship."

Rocky inclines his entire body towards you, listening intently.

"I don't want to talk about it to this day, honestly," Taking a deep breath, "But you deserve to know. You, Grace and Simon, at the very least. Nobody else. You can even come on the ship, if you want," you offer meekly, shoulders sagging at the thought of Rocky being subjected to the carnage inside, "Though I can't promise a pretty picture."

"Why."

"I'll tell you on the way—"

"No." Tap tap. "Why friend want to go now, question?"

"It's a silly reason." you mumble, rubbing your nape in discomfort.

"Rocky decide. Friend tell."

"There is food on the ship," you swallow, "Not like, the life-changing kind, but we had a food synthesiser and a vending machine and the like. Some ready-made food bags, too. The machine's coding was extremely strict about rationing, so there might be some left in the dispenser — maybe even the vending machine. We can also take the synthetizer for analysis to make... different food for us, even if it's from leftovers."

Rocky perks up. "I like! Good reason! Friend very..." A long hum, "...Need word. Think of other and work for other sake."

Ah. You type in the word considerate in the laptop.

"You know how Grace goes on and on about his sugar cravings. Don't tell him, but we did have sugar on the ship. We were allowed to synthesise a cake for birthdays of crew members, so I thought maybe..." you shrug, "... I don't know. Maybe we can get something from the ship that can be of use, regarding food. Nothing else." You point, "Strictly nothing else, I mean it, Rock. We have some pretty dangerous stuff in the ship, too."

"Like gun, question? Rocky see in movie."

"...... Exactly a gun, buddy."

The extraction mission was, thankfully, successful. You now have the synthesiser, food scraps and leftovers as well as some flavoured protein powder, courtesy of Curly's stash. Which, Eridian biologists can hopefully make something out of — and knowing them, they would work miracles.

Maybe you can synthetize a cake for Grace and Simon. Rocky too, though you doubt he would be able to digest what you eat. You can study Eridian biology to make a "cake" for him out of his sustenance, perhaps.

A weight is lifted off your shoulders, too. You have told Rocky everything, sparing no details, not shying away from any inquiries, replying as openly and honestly as you can. His lack of facial expressions made it easier to keep your composure as you talked through everything that went down in the Tulpar.

Deep down, you knew Rocky would not judge. Whether it was just a feeling or whether it was an idea that formed after many months of vigilant observations, you came to that conclusion. It went about as well as you have predicted.

"Not friend fault," he spoke, the hum quieter than usual, "Rocky hate Jimmy. Friend did what friend must. Survive. It important. No one blame friend. Thank for telling. It change nothing in Rocky perception of friend. Strong. Resilient. Kind. Rocky know."

"Thank you." You choke, trying to will away the tears stinging your eyes, "That means a lot to me, Rocky. I think I needed to hear that. Thank you."

"Welcome. Rocky thank also for telling. Keep secret until friend say it okay."

"I will tell them once we're home, promise. That was the reason for this whole adventure, remember? Maybe after the scientists are done analysing the findings, though. Maybe I can bait them into not hating me after I tell them the truth via bribery with sugar."

"... Stupid."

"Excuse you?" you clutch your non-existent pearls, apparently having forgotten how sharp-tongued the engineer could get after having a moment.

"No, excuse friend. Stupid, stupid, stupid, ugh! Grace Simon love friend. Hate friend not happening, ever! Statement."

"You know what?" you furrow your brows, pointing an accusatory finger at him, "Betting with you about this just might be the one thing that pushes me to do it as soon as possible."

"Good good good. Will tell you 'told you so'. Easy win for Rocky. Will ask culture questions as prize."

Grace and Simon are very much aware something is happening behind the scenes with you and the biodome engineers.

You leave the dome frequently for "check-up"s and "consultations", which has never happened to them. The Eridians usually prefer doing their checks in the biodome where the subjects (being all three of you) are more comfortable, yet they're whisking you away constantly.

It doesn't help that neither Adrian or Rocky say a peep about what's going on, whether it's Grace or Simon inquiring.

"Come ooon, pal," Grace groans, pleading eyes fixated on Rocky's exoskeleton, "They've been absent ever since you took off with them a while ago! We want to know what's happening!"

"They look a little sickly lately," Simon braces a hand on Grace's shoulder, "They're okay, right?"

"Of course friend is okay!!" Rocky stomps a claw on the floor, offended, "Rocky would not let friend come to harm!!"

"We know, Rock," Simon raises his free hand to pacify the Eridian, voice soft, "We're just worried." Turning to Grace for confirmation, "Right?"

"Right." Grace confirms, and Rocky lets out a long thrum akin to a sigh.

"Friend make preparation. Do not disturb. Will tell when ready."

They try to leave it at that.

Coming back to your shared home, you're meet with both avoidant and inquisitive gazes alike.

"..... Hi, Grace. Hi, Simon."

"Hi," They both echo simultaneously. You can practically see the gears in their heads turning, trying to approach the matter of your absence with the necessary amount of tact.

A fond sigh leaves your mouth. They kind of look like guilty housecats that have to face the consequences of chewing through the kibble packaging, for some reason.

"Sit down, both of you. I'll talk before you even need to ask."

Their eyes light up as they scramble towards the couch. Grace seems almost excited, while Simon looks like he's barely holding himself together, clearly expecting some bad news.

Well. Depending on their perspective, it just might be.

"Remember my ship? The one you found me in?" After they nod, you continue, "I asked Rocky to go back to see if there was anything we could salvage food-wise. We had pre-packaged rations, ingredients for the synthesiser, maybe some scraps from the vending machine that could be cloned, and some personal stashes and the like. The most variety we have regarding flavour is each of our meburgers, at this point, so—"

Grace plops down next to you unceremoniously before throwing his arms around you with a sigh, Simon getting up from his side of the couch to sit next to you as well, though he doesn't mirror the side-hug.

"You had me worried for nothing while thinking about expanding our palette!" Grace whines playfully, shoulders sagging as if a weight has been lifted from his shoulders.

"I've been overseeing the replication process." Before they ask, you tack on, "The new stuff we'll get are a surprise, and yes, there are multiple."

"Wow," Simon muses, and out of the corner of your eye, you see Grace pumping his fist in the air and mouthing what you're pretty sure is booyah!

"There is something else," you swallow audibly, and Grace removes his head from where it's nestled in your neck so fast you worry about him getting a whiplash, previous mirth almost wiped from his face as he fixates his gaze on you, silently prompting you to go on.

Simon, as if sensing your unease, takes your hand in his. The gesture is as comforting as it's anchoring.

"The details... I will spare you the details for now. And I will try to be as... objective as possible."

The tension in the room is palpable.

"The reason why Tulpar was damaged when you found it is because we crashed into an asteroid. It wasn't an accident."

Simon squeezes your hand. Grace's hand rests on your knee.

"The sabotage was intentional, orchestrated by our Captain's co-pilot, after the Captain disclosed that we were to be laid off once our current delivery was complete. Our Captain was... alive, barely, yet severely mutilated after the crash, and was blamed for the sabotage by the co-pilot, who assumed the position of Captain. One crewmember, our medic, was driven to suicide by him. Another, our intern, was forced into a dangerous situation by him and sustained fatal injuries, which were later infected because of incorrect and insufficient medical care after the death of our medic. Our mechanic put him out of his misery, which took a toll on him, and he tried killing our de-facto Captain. He was unsuccessful, of course, and was... executed, after. I killed him. The co-pilot and the former Captain, both. I deemed it necessary, and if given the chance, I would do it again. I'm sorry to have kept this from you for so long. I would understand if you wanted to send me away elsewhere, I have already talked to Rocky about it—"

"Let's not get ahead of ourselves," Simon speaks up first, cutting of your tangent. "I don't want you to leave." He looks at Grace.

".... I— I agree," Grace reinforces, "This might be a lot to take in suddenly, but there is no need for—" He gestures around him vaguely, "... Any of that."

"Thank you for telling us." Simon brings a hand to your face, "Breathe."

Oh. You didn't realise you were holding your breath.

"You know my past. I could never judge you for doing what you think is right, especially given your circumstances."

I always believed that our worst moments didn’t define us. Didn’t make us beyond repair.

"Thank you," you breathe out, eyes glassy. It would be a lie to say you weren't slightly out of it from how well they were taking the news that was slowly but surely poisoning you from keeping it bottled up inside.

"I know we've known each other for a relatively short time," Grace leans forward to catch your gaze, "But I know you're not a bad person. We, unfortunately, live in crazy times. I mean, pfft—" he exhales, waving his hands about in an exaggerated motion, "Dying stars, blood oceans— the ugly side of humanity should be old news by now."

"You're so freaking out." A broken laugh leaves your lips through the tears.

"I'm processing, there's a difference." Grace sticks out his pointer finger, the gesture entirely teacher-like in nature.

"So, I can stay?" you ask, a monster by the name of fear lying dormant under the seemingly hopeful question.

"Of course," comes the reply from both men, no hesitation whatsoever.

"And you don't... hate me? Think any less of me?"

"Never," They both echo without skipping a beat.

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

at 6am on a rainy friday morning your car comes barreling into the grover cleveland middle school parking lot. ryland’s in the passenger seat wearing his usual teacher getup, blue eyes scanning the itinerary he put together for the academic team’s trip.

it was pouring when you woke up, so you offered to drop him off before you went to work to keep him from getting soaked while riding his bike.

you pull into a spot near the school bus that’s awaiting his arrival and put the car in park.

“good luck this weekend,” you smile, patting ryland’s shoulder as he unbuckles his seatbelt.

“well, im not worried about the team’s performance,” ryland laughs. “moreso their behavior.”

he’s been looking forward to this competition for a looong time. every tuesday and thursday he’s stayed after school for hours, quizzing his prized academic team until he’s sure they know every fact and tidbit there is to know about their designated subject.

he pops the passenger door open and steps out, slinging his duffel bag over his shoulder.

“call me if you need anything, i know you hate having the place to yourself,” he jokes, knowing you could use some alone time for once.

you smile and give him a little wave as he sprints off to hop onto the bus. he looks so dorky in his yellow raincoat, you can't help but smile to yourself when you notice that he perfectly matches the bus.

you’ve lived with ryland for a few years now. the two of you met at a coffee shop after you were stood up by a date. it turned out you had a few mutual friends and a lot of things in common, so you graciously accepted his offer to move in to the empty bedroom in his apartment.

you quickly settled into a comfortable routine. he’s a great roommate. always considerate, clean, and generous. with time, you became best friends who lived together rather than just roommates.

as you drive home in the fog and rain, you plan out what you want to get into this weekend in your head. you can’t remember the last time ryland left for even a night, let alone an entire weekend.

you could walk around naked, maybe blast your music, perhaps do some spring cleaning. ryland doesn’t necessarily have a hoarding problem, but he never wants to throw anything away, which is why the kitchen cabinets are bursting at the seams with collectible cups and plates that nobody uses. they’ve got to go.

☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ

the workday drags by. ryland texts you updates on his adventures every few hours.

one kid threw up on the bus, classic.

finally, the clock strikes 5 and you leave to head home to an empty apartment.

you pause for a moment and think that maybe you should invite over the fling you’ve been entertaining, but you just shrug and make a mental note to revisit that idea later.

you ultimately decide to run yourself a bubble bath, order chinese, and drink wine. then, you'll see how you're feeling.

after eating dinner and soaking in the tub for so long that you are practically a raisin, you step out and slip into a silk robe and lingerie set that you never wear.

it’s not like you have anyone to wear it for, and it’s definitely a little risqué for everyday wear.

you smile in the mirror. maybe it’s the 2 glasses of wine that you've chugged or the way your cheeks are flushed from the hot bath, but you look really good.

delighted, you prance to the kitchen to start your cleaning. the wine is making the task much more fun, and it’s keeping you from thinking about how upset ryland may be at you for throwing so much stuff away.

after awhile, you place the box full of throwaway dishes in the corner of the laundry room. out of sight, out of mind!

the wine is officially getting to your head now and you have half a mind to call that hinge date to come over.

you waltz to your bedroom and lie back on the bed, pondering your next move.

maybe you’ll just send a flirty text. you'd been chatting earlier anyways, what's the harm? you’ve been on a few dates over the past two months and fooled around a handful of times, it’s not like it would be too bold.

so you take a picture of your chest, one hand squeezing yourself through the lacy bra beneath your silk robe.

you giggle and close one eye as you press send along with a message.

“thinking about you.”

you put your phone on the nightstand, awaiting a response. maybe they will come over and you can finally seal the deal!

but after awhile, your phone never buzzes. in the meantime, you've picked up a book, trying to distract yourself while waiting for a response.

you glance at the clock on your bedside table.

it’s been nearly 45 minutes!

you pick up your phone, opening it back up to the text stream.

your heart jumps up into your throat, jesus fucking christ.

you sent that to ryland.

and he read it.

read 9:45pm.

it’s 10. he saw it 15 minutes ago and didn’t say anything.

mortified, you frantically start typing out a message.

but then you see him typing, so you stop.

“yeah? what exactly are you thinking about?”

you squeal and throw your phone across the bed. no way he just asked that.

then you feel it start buzzing. someone is calling you.

and of course when you pick up the phone with shaking hands you see that it's ryland's contact lighting up the screen.

you answer.

“h-hello?”

“that wasn’t for me, was it?” he asks, teasing. you can hear the smile in his voice, he's clearly entertained.

“no, im so so sorry! i was-”

but he cuts you off.

“i know it wasn’t for me, but i liked it. it definitely made me wish it were for me.”

your mouth falls open. “ryland,” you whisper breathily.

you hear what sounds like sheets ruffling from his end of the line. he must be in bed.

“what?” he asks, voice low.

and you realize how hot your body is. not from embarrassment or shame anymore, but from want. hearing his voice on the phone, knowing he saw the picture you sent him. it’s making you dizzy.

“are you alone?” you ask.

“yes.”

“i miss you,” you admit.

“i miss you too,” he laughs. “i didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable, we can pretend you never sent me that picture if you want.”

“no no no,” you quickly gasp. “it wasn’t for you, but im glad it went to you instead.”

“yeah?” he rasps.

“mhm,” you hum. “i-i want you to see me like that.”

“like what, sweetheart?” he groans, “use your words, tell me what you want me to see.”

you’re officially lightheaded. head spinning with thoughts of your best friend, your roommate, seeing you bare before him.

“want you to see me naked, want you to touch me,” you admit.

you hear him take a deep breath, shuddering on the exhale.

you back arches off the bed as you trail your hand down to the waistband of your underwear. your fingers toy with the fabric there, not daring to push beneath it yet.

“i want to see and touch you too. you have no idea how long i have wanted to. and-and i am not trying to sound like a creep, i promise i am not a pervert," he stops himself before he can keep rambling and back tracking.

he pauses for a second, not sure what to say next. then, he finally asks, “well, do the bottoms match?”

you nod, then realize that he can’t see you through the phone, so you mutter a quiet yes.

“wanna see them too,” he says softly.

you hear his sheets rustling again.

you snap a pic. on your back, one hand slipped into your panties, back arching slightly off the bed, and send it to him.

you hear him whine a little when he receives it.

“you’re unreal,” he gasps. “listen, honey. im sorry, but i don’t want this to be our first…encounter.”

you whine, “no-no, please. i don’t mind. please keep talking to me.”

but he’s so old fashioned. you know that he won’t budge on this.

“i’ll be home sunday, try to control yourself," he orders.

you groan in frustration.

“i know, i know,” he sympathizes. “and don’t send anyone else any pictures, you’re all mine now. if you want to be, that is.”

“i do. goodnight, ry.”

“good, i'm glad. i’ll see you sunday, sleep tight,” he whispers.

and the line goes dead.

☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ

it's 7:30am on a beautifully sunny sunday when your car skids back into the grover cleveland lot. your hands are trembling, anticipation looming in your belly.

you watch ryland step off the bus and help the kids with their luggage. he sees you and waves, smiling brightly.

after a few minutes, all the kids have left with their guardians, and ryland begins making his way across the parking lot to you.

he's wearing a grover cleveland middle school sweatshirt with the sleeves pushed halfway up his arms. he looks so cozy, it makes your heart swell.

he yanks the car door open and climbs in, settling in with his duffle bag in his lap.

he looks over at you, blue eyes shimmering in the sunlight that's cascading through the windshield.

"we won!" he smiles.

of course that's the first thing he says, what a-

but before you can finish your thought, he's grabbing your face and pressing his lips to yours.

you pull back slowly, eyes coming up to peer into his.

"let's go home," he yawns.

the ride there is nearly silent. luckily, it's just a few minutes.

the tension is thick, you feel his eyes running over your bare neck, tracing your collarbones as you drive.

you feel his gaze slide down to the swell of your breasts, which are situated behind a very thin tank top.

you feel it burning a path down to your thighs, which your pajama shorts are doing very little to hide.

when you pull back into the parking lot of the apartment, ryland hops out quickly and you trail behind him as he heads up the stairs.

"im gonna jump in the shower," he says, already walking in the direction of your shared bathroom

about 20 minutes later, he emerges. a fluffy towel wrapped around his hips, low enough to show off the beginning of his v-line. you're practically drooling from your seat on the couch.

"see something you like?" he smirks.

you nod and rise to your feet, then you walk slowly across the room to him.

you drop down to your knees in front of him, hands finding the hem at the top of the towel and sliding just beneath the makeshift waistband.

"yeah, i do," you finally reply, looking up at him through your eyelashes.

ryland groans softly as one of your hands comes to palm him through the cotton.

he feels big. way bigger than you expected.

"as much as i want you to y'know...i don't want this to be how our first time starts," he says, hand coming to tip your chin up.

"but i want to!" you pout, dying to get his towel off.

"go sit on the couch, i will be right back," he says, giving your head a gentle pat.

he trots off to his bedroom and you reluctantly rise and saunter over to take a seat on the couch.

when he comes back in a pair of grey sweats and a t-shirt you smile up at him. his glasses are back on and his hair has been towel dried. he takes a seat next to you and you turn to face him, sitting criss-cross.

he takes both of your hands in his and leans in to kiss your cheek.

"are you sure you want to do this?" he asks softly.

"yes, i am very sure. can we think about the implications later? i just want you to touch me," you nod.

"okay, but we are going to do it my way," he replies.

he drops your hands gently. his left hand moves to your right hip, holding as he moves back in to kiss you on the lips, his right hand coming to cup your cheek as he does.

he smells like body wash and toothpaste and he tastes like the chapstick you put in his stocking a few months ago at christmastime.

he deeps the kiss, the hand on your hip pulling you to arch into him. he hums into you when you start to push your tongue into his mouth.

"so," you start, breaking the kiss. "what does 'your way' entail?"

he smirks, the hand on your face retracts to push his glasses back up the slope of his nose.

"well, first, i want to taste you right here on the couch. the couch we bought together after a week of living together."

he leans back in, lips finding the side of your neck just below your left ear. his breath fans over your ear as he pants, sucking and kissing the sensitive skin there.

he moves down to your clavicle, kissing right above where your collarbone meets your shoulder. his left hand squeezes your hip again, then slides up to palm your chest through your tank top.

he's talking into your neck now as he continues, "then, i am going to take you to my bed, if you want, and lay you down on the duvet cover you picked out for me."

he slides carefully to his knees on the floor, adjusting so you are facing straight ahead with his head between your legs. your calves come to rest on his shoulders and he presses a kiss to the inside of your ankle.

"does that sound okay?" he asks, looking up at you.

you nod fervently. he looks so pretty between your legs. his glasses are askew again, eyes heavy with lust, lips kiss-bitten and pink.

he kisses up your right leg now, moving from your calf all the way up to the bottom of your sleep shorts.

"can i get these off, angel?" he asks, fingers coming up to tug at the waistband.

you lift your hips and let him slide them off of you. he tosses them to the side and leans in to press a kiss to your hip.

with your panties still on, he presses his nose to your clit. teasing, he mouths at your slit. you're soaked, the thin cotton nearly translucent from your slick.

you push your hips forward, chasing the friction.

"i know baby, can smell how much you want me," he groans, his own hips bucking against the wooden base of the couch.

"let's get these off, hm?"

he slides your panties off and throws them somewhere behind his head. then he's on you immediately.

his hands hold your thighs, keeping you spread for him as he leans back in and flattens his tongue against you.

you cry out his name, clit pulsing as he continues to devour you.

you clench around nothing as he toys with your clit, begging him to touch you by bucking your hips.

"please," you whine, hands gripping his hair now.

he keeps going, licking long strips and sucking your clit.

finally, he brings a finger to your entrance and slips it in.

"f-fuck," he groans, his own hips bucking into the couch again when he feels you clench around him.

he adds a finger and pulls his mouth away from you. you feel his eyes move to your face, your cheeks turning crimson at the sensation of him watching you fall apart.

your eyes fall closed, face scrunching up as he curls his fingers inside of you.

"doing so good for me, can you come like this?"

you nod, eyes still closed.

you feel him lean back in and pepper kisses all over your thighs as his thumb moves to your clit to rub tight circles.

"yeah, i know you can do it. let go for me, thats my girl."

his voice is strained and he's sure he is going to explode soon. your whines and moans are going straight to his cock which is no doubt leaking in his boxers by now.

he crooks his fingers up just right and you moan out his name while you clench down and fall apart, the band in your belly breaking.

you ride out your high with ryland still gently curling his fingers inside of you, then your hips still and your face relaxes.

you open your eyes and look down at him. he's leaned back now, his free hand cupping himself through his sweats while he sucks on the fingers that were just inside of you.

you commit that image to memory.

"was that okay?' he asks, slightly nervous.

"are you fucking serious?" you laugh, still out of breath.

he smiles a big goofy grin, then stands up to reach down and scoop you up bridal style in his big arms.

he carrie’s you down the hall to his bedroom and tosses you gently on the bed. you suddenly realize you have no bottoms on, you’re completely naked except for your tank top, so you sit up and strip that off too. ryland is walking over to his desk to turn on his small lamp.

his jaw drops when he turns around and sees you fully bare on the his bed.

"you are not real," he groans. "where did those things come from?" he asks, gesturing at your boobs.

"oh come on, you've seen my boobs before!"

"no i have not."

"well you have seen them through all of my shirts! and you've seen me in swimsuits.”

"well i guess i wasn't looking, then. you know i am a respectful gentleman!"

you get a little offended, you kinda assumed he always thought you were hot.

he notices.

"okay, i lied. i knew you had nice boobs, i’ve looked,” he concedes.

you smile, pleased.

"i am naked in your bed and you are attempting to feign sexual innocence," you laugh.

"i am trying to be respectful!" he laughs back.

he sits down next to you and faces you. his eyes are stuck on your chest like glue.

"well don't be."

one hand reaches out to grab your hip again.

"don't say things like that, you don't know what that does to me," he groans.

you move a hand to tug at the bottom of his t-shirt.

"things like what?" you ask, putting on an innocent act. "like how i don't want you to be respectful with me?"

you lean in, hand coming to squeeze him through his sweats, which have a wet patch forming.

he lets out a shaky sigh when you touch him.

"or that i want you to do whatever you want to me," you purr, leaning in to kiss his neck the way he kissed yours earlier.

"b-baby," he whines.

you find a tender spot on the right side of his neck and bite down on the flesh, noting the location so you can return to it later.

"or that i want you to fuck me so hard i can feel it tomorrow?"

"that's it," he mumbles, suddenly moving to get on top of you.

he lays you back and crawls over your body, propping himself up on his elbows. he's still fully clothed, a tasty juxtaposition to your nakedness.

he moves to grind his hips into you, his clothed cock pressing between your legs. you grind up into him, your legs wrapping around his waist.

"want me to take you like this?" he asks, hand coming to grab your chin.

"mhmm."

he sits back on his heels and yanks his shirt over his head. you always forget how toned he is, so you gawk at his abs a little.

he stands and slides off his sweats, leaving them pooled on the floor.

you watch as he starts to slide his underwear off, eyes zoned in on his crotch. when he finally springs free, your eyes nearly roll back in your head from want.

he looks so heavy. his pink, flushed tip is leaking copious amounts of precum. he's long, like very long.

he wraps his hand around the base and strokes himself a few times, his eyes heavy as he looks down at you.

"you sure?" he asks again.

"yes, really sure. god, you're so big, ryland."

he crawls back on top of you and lines himself up at your entrance.

when he pushes his tip in, your back arches off the bed. ryland groans into your neck, "so fucking wet for me."

hearing him talk like that, hearing him say fuck is crazy, and it turns you on.

he keeps pushing in, filling you up so full you see stars.

"s-so big," you mewl.

your legs wrap tighter around his waist as he starts to thrust into you. his lips are right by your ear and his breath tickles as he pants and groans.

"feel okay, baby?" he asks, starting to move faster and deeper.

you whine his name and a garbled yes as he finds a steady pace.

"still want me to fuck you disrespectfully?" he asks, pressing up to look down at your face.

"y-yes, please fuck me harder," you cry.

he readjusts you both so that you are nearly folded in half, then he starts driving into you.

"so pretty, i wish you could see yourself."

your eyes roll back in your head when one of his thumbs comes to rub your clit.

he's getting closer. he's spewing praise and grunting as he fucks into you with reckless abandon.

"so good, my good girl."

"all mine now, right sweetheart?"

"it was worth the wait, huh baby?" "yeah, i know it was."

“s-so fucking tight. i’m not going anywhere, it’s okay.”

he's starting to falter, thrusts getting sloppy as he comes closer and closer to the edge.

"ryland," you whine, "cum for me."

you look up into his eyes and that does it. he spills inside of you for so long. hot, thick ropes of cum painting your walls. you convulse around him, hitting your own peak as he wraps his up.

he fucks you through it, although you’re sure it hurts him.

when he pulls out, he pushes his spend back into you gently with two fingers, an unexpected move that makes your mouth drop open in shock and arousal.

you both finally look at rocky. with his carapace tilted upwards, rocky has one of his hands outstretched, seemingly waiting for his “tip”.

“a tip! when humans provide good service they are usually given a reward!”

“i—where’d you learn about that??”

“from (name)!”

grace directed his confused look towards you now.

“… i did talk to him about being a barista one time,” you sheepishly smile.

“yes, (name) did! was very educational! made rocky wish to participate, too.” he tapped his “fingers” together as a reminder. “tip, please!”

“wow. you’re, uh, kinda putting me on the spot here. you know, tipping is usually done with cash and we don’t really have any—“

“is ok! rocky will accept any item as a tip.” his arm stretched out further, eagerly waiting.

out of excuses, grace turned to you. “help?”

you giggle. “i think rocky just wants a reward for helping us.”

looking around the room for something, your eyes catch onto the whiteboard that’s behind the desk you were working at and notice one of the magnets attached to the board. you grab it and hand it out to the eridian, your arm and his stretching out further so that it transfers through his ball.

“here you go: for a job well done.”

rocky let out a trill, something equivalent to a laugh that you both decided to not translate (it was nicer to hear the melody rather than the robotic voice go “ha ha ha”).

“(name) is rocky’s favorite human! grace is not. rocky will spit in grace’s food as revenge.”

“huh?!”

you burst out laughing at rocky’s words, but you’re practically keeling over in your seat because of grace’s reaction.

“i told him that we’d sometimes joke about spitting or sneezing in our customers orders if they made us upset.”

“he knows you were joking, right?!”

“he just learned about knock knock jokes, give him a few days. besides,” you manage to calm down enough, still grinning widely at grace, “eridians don’t leak; you’ll be fine.”

“i guess…”

grace fixes his glasses, seemingly having calmed down now that he knows he’s safe until—

“rocky will find a way to make spit.”

you laugh again while grace groans loudly.