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Ryland was incredibly nice. It had been a couple of years since he rescued Simon out of deep space, gave him a home, and the closest semblance of family he ever had.
Ryland was nice enough to hop on a ship and save the damn universe, for goodness sake. The guy was a saint, patient and kind to all. Even those who had wronged him back on Earth, he managed to forgive and somehow not carry bitterness towards any of them.
He was a better person than Simon could ever dream of being.
He was so kind to Simon that he gifted him the purest form of friendship Simon could ever have imagined. Even if he messed up, or let his anger speak louder than reason, Ryland would always know what to do and say to bring him back to his senses with gentle and soothing words.
And Simon loved Grace, more than he ever thought possible. And he also was hornier than ever.
All his time spent around Grace, following the shape of his lips as he talked, how his body moved, how his face looked when he slept, how when he concentrated on research, he would always tap the tip of his pen softly to his lips. It drove Simon half crazy – he felt like an animal.
It got worse when Grace decided that they should sleep in the same bed. Citing how they were both already so close, as roommates! And, Simon, human contact is good for your health!
And so, Simon woke up everyday with Grace’s soft smell on his nose, their bodies practically glued together, and he would have to fight the urge to rub his cock on Ryland’s soft stomach every time.
He truly couldn’t help himself. It got so bad that Simon spent his days either looking at Ryland, or thinking about Ryland. Sometimes he would let himself, in his brief moments of privacy during baths, jerk himself off until his skin turned red and raw under the heat of the water. Even then, it was never enough, and he knew it would never be enough.
He needed Ryland Grace like a man starved needs food. He needed to breathe his scent and hear him moan. He needed to bite him and make him cry, make him bleed. Take him apart, know every inch of his insides, then put him back together.
Simon was going crazy.
Their routine followed a usual, comfortable rhythm. They would wake up in the mornings, Simon would shower first while Grace fixed them breakfast – artificial coffee and the edible egg-adjacent protein goo, both provided by the Eridians.
They would then eat together, talk a little and Simon would take care of the dishes while Grace showered. Grace had more responsibilities, both with his classes and periodical meetings with the Eridian’s scientists team. Rocky was also a frequent visitor, bringing along Adrian and their young little pebble – Mary, to play around with her favorite uncle.
Simon usually did his own thing, took care of their greenhouse, full of successful and failed experiments trying to replicate Earth’s flora. He read books, now, and listened to music. Sometimes Grace would catch Simon working out in their indoor gym, and that is when things got a little heated for Grace.
Now, Grace was not a pervert. Of course not. He considered himself a decent guy, and even in his teens and 20’s, he had never really taken an interest in sex. Save for very rare occasions with past girlfriends and such.
Point being, he didn’t really understand how his body reacted so primally to the sight of Simon’s shirtless sweaty figure, breathing heavily while lifting weights or running on a treadmill.
He also normally wouldn't do this – stay hidden, just around the corner, trying to listen in to Simon’s laboured breaths and imagining the man making those same sounds on top of him, whispering hotly into Grace’s ear while-
Grace stopped himself in his delusions. This was so incredibly wrong of him. He felt his shame heat his ears, arousal gathered low in his belly. It has been so long since he even attempted to get his rocks off that he was already hard with only the sound of Simon breathing.
And so, Grace pivoted and shamefully (hopefully quietly, too) walked towards the bathroom and dealt with his problem with his forehead against the cold tiles. He stayed under the water for a long time, until he had sufficiently calmed down to show his face to Simon again.
When he left the bathroom, already dressed for bed, Simon passed by him, smelling of musk and sweat. Dark, knowing eyes scanning over Grace’s body without a word. Down to his feet, then up again. A single look seemed to undress him, swallow him up and spit him out again. A brief tension settled in the dark hallway, only illuminated by the bathroom door behind him.
For a moment, Grace thought, oh no, he knows. Grace opened his mouth – maybe to try and defend himself, he did not know, but before a word was spoken, Simon passed by him and entered the bathroom. The quiet click of the door sounding loud in the dark hallway.
Grace let out a breath he did not notice he was holding and glanced down on himself, already heating up again. Oh God, he must really be going crazy.
Simon had a plan. It wasn’t really a good plan, nor a healthy one – according to some of the romance novels he had read over the past few months. But he could not let Ryland escape from this latest little game of theirs.
It was a delicate dance, Grace had been watching him – the naughty voyeur Grace had discovered himself to be. And Simon had noticed him, of course he had. Simon was excited to get him in the act, preferably with his pants down to his ankles, and punish him properly.
Would Grace like that? Would he like having his hair pulled, his neck bitten purple and his ass slapped raw? Maybe. Maybe not. But either way, Simon was going to discover.
It didn’t take long for it to happen again, thankfully. Just a few days later, Simon warned shortly during dinner “I need to get in some exercise today. Do you mind?”
“Oh, um- no, no, not at all.” Came Grace’s hurried response, his face reddening, “I’m going to be in the lab all night, anyways!” He squeaked. Simon did not miss the way Grace stared at his plate rather than meeting his eyes.
Simon grunted an agreement, and left shortly after. Grace took care of the dishes that evening, the warm water running through his fingers as his distracted mind thought of how Simon’s arms looked in that tight shirt he had been wearing – one of Grace’s. And, in fact, all of them looked too tight on Simon. He swallowed the spit gathered in his mouth.
Had he taken it off to exercise? Had Simon tied up his hair in that pullable little ponytail he wears sometimes? Had it been long enough for Grace to not be caught while checking?
He needed to see, he needed to take just a little peek and he would be satisfied for today. The lights on the kitchen turned off routinely. He turned off the faucet and listened in. One of the advantages to being the only two humans on Erid is that there was no noise pollution to hide Simon’s breaths, just the sound of the metal barbells bumping against each other once in a while.
Grace approached the dark corridor quietly, leaning against the adjacent wall just on the edge of the opened door and closing his eyes.
So close by, the noises were louder. His gut stirred and his restless hands flexed against the metal material of the wall, grabbing at nothing. Geez, Simon sounded almost pornographic, breathing laboured and heavy. So close, it sounded like he was breathing right on his ear. He had to be lifting weights, probably the heaviest ones they had – oh God. Each strained breath or rasped word would go directly to Grace’s groin, tightening his pants uncomfortably. It was torture, to stay there, but it felt so incredibly good. He wanted, needed, more.
Just a little look, he thought, and I’ll go. Grace leaned in, tilting his head just enough to catch a brief glimpse of the glorious man inside before Simon subtly turned his head and, in between the strands of his loose hair, caught his gaze.
The empty of black met the twinkle of blue. There is no smug smile on his face, no expression on his eyes besides the cruel satisfaction of a predator with his jaws wide open that just managed to ensnare his prey. Grace stills, and time seems to stop. They stand at a standstill for a moment, Grace realizing he had been caught and Simon deciding how to best maneuver him to the ground.
A beat, then two, Grace takes a cautious step back, hiding back in the shadow of the wall. He hears the metal barbells loudly hit the floor. Then, he runs.
He shouldn’t run, he knows. He should fall to the floor and profusely apologize, make some excuse and shamefully hide away for a few days. But with how loud the blood is pumping in his ears, he can’t help but want to move as quickly as possible, as far as possible. Away from the man that looked at him with such need, away from what had seduced him so thoroughly, he had forgotten his own morals.
Then there are heavy, fast steps behind him echoing in the metal floor, doubling his own. He scrambles for the lab, passing through the kitchen and the living room, bumping into edges of tables and hearing clutter fall to the floor. The corridors are dark, having entered “night mode” some time ago, and it did not help with the fact he could barely see in front of him.
The chase seemed to last a million years until Grace reached the lab, with it’s tall walls and advanced computers repurposed from the Hail Mary. It was somewhat dark, only illuminated by the various lit up buttons and some screens he had been using earlier that same day. It all seems so far now.
With nowhere to hide, he stops and swerves around desperately. Faced with the end of the road, he looks towards the figure in the corridor making it’s way to him through the shadows. Adrenaline making his heart beat louder, blood rushing. Simon’s dark expression has faded for one of subtle perverse joy, his laboured breath matching Grace’s own. Loud even to his own ears.
Simon says nothing, he does not need to say anything and yet Grace’s heart seems like it’s going to beat out of his chest. Grace grips the edge of the table expectantly, eyes darting down to his feet. A feeling akin to shame crawling up his throat, making his eyes burn with the sudden need to cry.
Simon approaches slowly, carefully. Waiting for Grace to protest his fate, and yet, he does not. A hand grips his face, strong calloused fingers pull him close. Their breaths mingle, panting almost in unison. He smells of sweat and metal.
Simon is so close, and yet Grace cannot meet his eyes, opting instead to stare at his lips. Simon squeezes, and his jaw stings with pain, “Look at me.” Simon rasps. Grace obeys, because how could he not?
The sight that finds him makes his head spin, Simon barely a thread away, all consuming eyes meet his, filled with insurmountable hunger. Grace feels his legs weaken, and his body stumbles back, and yet his face stays firmly in Simon’s grasp. Something inside of him writhes in agony, resisting the pull of attraction. A larger part wants nothing else but to give in. The conflict makes him lightheaded.
“Look at you. Falling over yourself.” Simon whispers, something like wonder in his voice. The sudden pang of humiliation twists in Grace’s lower stomach, and he holds a desperate whimper between his teeth.
Simon continues, “And yet, you don’t have it in you to admit you want this?” Grace wants to interrupt, wants to deny it all – to say that, No! We are friends, of course! And yet the evidence of his shame is blatantly obvious.
Simon tilts his head, and eyes glancing to Grace’s lips. His hand lets go of Grace’s face, to instead grip his neck, right under his jaw – fingers over his thundering pulse. In one fell swoop, Simon leans in and takes his lips in an open, wet kiss. Simon licks into Grace’s mouth and a whimper makes it out of Grace’s throat, the hand holding his neck momentarily tightening.
Simon pushes closer, stepping in between Grace’s legs, his thigh meets Grace’s clothed dick, feeling it twitch under the insistent pressure. Grace moans dirtily, feeling so unlike himself. He can’t focus on anything but Simon’s tongue inside his mouth, hot and wet against the roof of his mouth, exploring him so thoroughly he is momentarily afraid of getting addicted to the feeling of being consumed.
Simon presses harder on his pelvis, and Grace jumps, the slight bit of pain not helping with his situation at all. Simon leaves his lips wet and red, just to ask roughly, “Why were you looking?”
Grace can barely compute the question, mouth hanging open and panting. Wanting to be kissed more. He dumbly responds “Huh?” And is punished with another hard press. He hisses and his head drops, his chest heaving with exertion.
“I said, why were you looking?” Simon asks again, insistent. Grace struggles to answer, whimpering instead. Simon leans in and takes the tempting little curve of the tips of his ear with his tongue, Grace shivers in response.
Struggling to control his breaths, Grace responds, “I-uhm. I needed to- I wanted…” He trails off. Another punishing press to his dick and he stumbles out a response, “I wanted to see you! Ah, I’m sorry, Simon!”
“Do you want this, Ryland?” Simon whispers hotly against the shell of his ear. “Tell me to stop and I’ll stop.”
Grace bumps his forehead against Simon’s shoulder, breathing in his smell and hiding his face shamefully. He can almost feel a part of himself shed. He nods against the black fabric of Simon’s shirt, and flinches when instead of another push, Simon’s knee rolls against him and he keens in pleasure, knowing he could come just like this.
“Tell me” Simon prompts, more sweetly than before, and yet, commanding as ever, “Ryland, use your words.”
Grace whines, and slowly, ruts his hips against the knee in between his legs, “Simon, I need to come. Please, please. Don’t stop.” He pleads.
Simon chuckles, and the warm hand pressing on his neck suddenly leaves. Simon unglues his body from Grace, leaving his heated skin cold. Grace holds onto his arm, the palms of his hands are clammy.
“Where, uh-” Grace starts, but is not able to finish, swallowing the spit gathered in his mouth. Simon is smiling. This small, wicked thing, Grace could only describe it as beautiful.
Simon commands, “Turn around.” A beat passes and Grace obeys, “Hands on the table.” His sweaty palms meet the cold metal. He feels a foot spread his feet apart, and soon, Simon has a firm hand on his hip, his chest meets the curve of Grace’s back as he strains it upwards, following the touch.
There are sweet kisses to the back of his neck, he can feel the hot imprint of Simon’s cock on the back of his thigh. Inebriated by adrenaline and need, he rolls his hips, the breath on his neck staggers and Simon chuckles, “I’ll take care of you first, angel, don’t worry.”
He whines again, completely unashamed. Embarrassment colored his face red, probably already looking as feverish as he felt. Simon’s hand unbuttons his pants, shoving them over his hips roughly. His fingers curl over the metal tightly, feeling Simon press his cold fingers to his navel. His hips twitch in need, just touch me!
Simon continues to talk him through it, “So beautiful, Angel. So pretty and good for me. Keep your hands still, yeah?”
Grace nods desperately, a thread away from sobbing in sheer need. Just then, Simon relented and gripped his dick, already shamefully wet. Grace shivers, doubling over himself as his arms lose strength to keep him upright, Simon’s hand moves expertly, slowly pumping him, thumb catching on his slit and pressing down.
Grace cannot hold his own desperate moan, the delicious sharp sensation of the pain making him suddenly jump. The heavy breathing on his ear suddenly turned to a chuckle, “My angel likes it when it hurts?”
Simon tries it again, a slow up, down and up again, press down and repeat. Milking drops of precum off Grace’s dick, who at some point started crying out “No! No, I- ugh, fuck, Simon!”
Simon laughs again, raspy and so, so warm. Grace can feel it reverberate in his back, “Angel, you are a liar. Look at the mess you are making.”
Grace does, glancing down and being met with the sight of his throbbing red cock, engulfed in Simon’s large and calloused hand, precum liberally leaking out of it with each deliberate pump of his wrist.
“Oh no, Simon! Ah, oh no. Fuck, fuck!” He sobs, frustrated and unable to come over the edge. He can’t do anything but shiver and take it, Simon let’s him savor every pump, every torturous pressure of his nail on his slit. Slowly building Grace up until his own patience starts running thin. Grace has thoroughly dirtied the floor already, a puddle of clear precum at their feet and tears hitting the metal table.
“Good job, Angel. Look at you, so pretty when you cry.” Simon whispers into his ear, taking his time to tease and lick it once more. Grace does not respond, too busy crying in a debilitating mix of frustration and unrelenting pleasure. “I think you deserve to come now, don’t you?”
Grace has half a mind to nod, weakly using the last of his strengths to push his hips foward, fucking himself on Simon’s hand. He keened, “Need it, Simon, please. Ah, please, please.”
“There we go, Angel, take it so well.” Simon growled, finally moving his hand faster and making Grace sob in relief. It did not take long for him to break with a scream. Grace’s body violently convulsed, him choking on his own saliva as Simon’s unrelenting hand fucks him through his orgasm. Cum splatters suddenly, reaching the floor and dirtying Simon’s hand further, dripping over his fingers.
Minutes later, when his vision stops swimming and Grace returns to his own body enough to keen in overstimulation, half of his body is laid upon the metal table, cooling down against the metal. His lower half is still in Simon’s mercy, but finally, the hand leaves his overexerted dick and Grace breathes heavily.
Despite the uncomfortable position, he could just fall asleep like this, boneless and bare. Not even present enough to feel embarrassed for coming the hardest he ever had on the hands of his best friend. Dreading the moment of confrontation, he blinks and Simon suddenly is leaving sweet kisses on his face, “So perfect, Angel. Are you tired? Let me take you to bed.”
In a flurry of movement, Simon carries him, half naked and half covered in quickly drying cum to their bed. There, in the darkness of their room, he places Grace softly on the bed, removing the last of his clothes and cleaning him with a warm towel. All the while, pressing sweet kisses to his knees, stomach, chest, ankles. Worshipping every part of his Angel.
Grace remains silent, only half awake. However, the blatant show of love does not pass unnoticed as his chest unfurls in warm comfort. Sleep slowly taking over him. The last thing he feels before falling asleep is Simon whispering into the sensitive skin of his thigh, mumbling over and over “I love you, Angel. I love you.”
Grace fell asleep with the knowledge that he, too, loved this man.