Chapter Text
Simon had never seen the ocean before.
He didn’t count the Blood Oceans from his past as part of the equation, viewing them as falsities and rancidities of a bygone era. Grace told him all about real oceans, the ones where sand stuck between the folds of your skin and water held millions of microorganisms that you could barely begin to fathom.
They were also supposed to be salty, which this one was not. The ocean inside the dome was made of freshwater, manually kept cool by the aliens who studied Grace and Simon in their dome. Simon always felt unnerved by that fact; like he was some test subject for the Eridians to play with. Grace assured him the study was mutual, that the scientist’s infatuation with Eridian biology meant it only fair for the rock people to study him.
Simon never weighed in his peace of mind, for it meant actually confronting why the whole thing felt wrong.
He touched the water with rough fingers, calloused but finally beginning to heal. He craved the water in ways not quite human, for Simon knew he was no longer only human.
His arm— the one he’d lost back in the Iron Lung— had been replaced with a prosthetic made from xenonite and spare parts Grace had left over when he moved Armando into his house. Simon flexed his fingers, letting them fall into the water alongside his other hand. The metal one didn’t cause that sense of yearning his flesh did, so he pulled the human hand out and let the other remain.
It was boring work waiting for Grace to finish in the lab. His classes were one thing, stationed outside with billowing air and the manufactured scent of what Grace claimed oceans to actually smell like— but his lab time was a different story.
Labs reminded Grace of the COI, of how he was nothing more than an experimentation to them. A tool to find secrets in a blood ocean made from human secrecy.
Without thinking, Simon laid down, letting the waves engulf him. He sighed, feeling it tickle his hair and seep into his clothes. The former felt much better to him, reminding Simon of Grace’s pale fingers helping to tie his hair back. The thought lingered, like a prolonged shush in Simon’s mind.
Usually, when he thought of Grace like this, Simon would curse himself and try to think of something new. But this time around, he liked the thought.
Lower and lower Simon went into the water, but as it filled his nostrils and ears, he realized it wasn’t enough. A coil in his stomach told him that all of this wasn’t enough.
Not the dome, he appreciated so much space after sharing it with Eden and then his own thoughts in a jail cell, but something about the situation he found himself it wasn’t fulfilling enough. With a deep breath, he plunged into the false ocean, feeling the gills slits close to his jaw open up. His teeth, sharp and prickly, parted with his lips, and he let himself dream of Grace. His hair, his glasses, his stubble; the way he smiled and his lame jokes, the way his arms flexed under tight shirts, the way he flushed and grew teary eyed over the littlest of things.
Yes, Simon liked the feeling it brought. He knew it should’ve been guilt weighing in on his conscious, but something deeper stirred awake. A hunger of some sort, a need for Grace.
Simon almost mistook it for the desire to eat his companion, but that ‘almost’ kept him in check.
That night, Simon tossed and turned on Grace’s couch, acute hearing bringing the soft whines and snores of the scientist into his thoughts. He liked the noises Ryland made, sighs and grunts and even moans. Simon really liked the moans. It made him feel.. homesick. Not for Eden, and not for his universe, but it caused a churning that ached initially before melting into yearning.
He yearned for whatever sanctity could be found in Ryland’s arms. For whatever could be found under his skin.
Fangs shifted in Simon’s mouth, and he groaned at the sensation. He was hungry, that was obvious. Hungry and craving the man next door.
Simon had bit Grace before, much to his own chagrin. It was actually the scientist who begged him to do it, pleading on his hands and knees in a way that stationed him perfectly in front of Simon. The thought made him snort, and then fall quiet, because he often found himself wishing he could kneel at the foot of Grace’s bed. Thank him for this dome, this world, for his companionship. Even if Eridians were the ones to provide it, Simon selfishly thought Grace the savior of it all.
That’s what they called him; Savior Grace. Simon bit his lip, drawing blood at the thought of his savior.
He licked it off his lips, pretending it was Grace’s blood as a hand slipped underneath his pajama shorts.
Simon’d been feeling off for the past few days.
He knew that Grace knew, and the reason he knew is because Grace would never shut up about something that he knew.
“You could be depressed,” Grace worriedly said as he helped Simon shave. He didn’t need to; Simon had been given the prosthetic arm not too long ago, but Grace insisted that a precise hand was needed for precise things.
”What’s that?” Simon said, keeping his black void eyes to the ceiling. The only way one could see his pupils was when he got hungry because a ring of red would bleed into his irises and out into his white scleras. Other than that, his eyes looked generally human. Though Ryland once again insisted that he could see precise things, meaning he could always see Simon’s pupils. Just as long as he looked hard enough.
”It’s a mental issue,” Ryland delicately put it, tracing the pad of his finger along Simon’s chin. “But it can cause physical side effects. What exactly do you feel?”
Simon’s belly warmed, and he bit back a growl in annoyance. “I don’t know, I been pretty irritable lately. And hungry, and—“ he shot a look at Grace, then down at their entangled knees. “You touching me makes it worse.”
“I-It does?” Ryland asked, quick to pull away. His cheeks tinged a rosey hue, and though Simon liked the sight, he definitely didn’t enjoy Grace pulling away.
”Yeah. And.. I’ve also been…” Simon paused, unsure if he wanted to approach the topic. Eels and Blood Oceans were never really brought up between the pair, even if Grace had a million questions. “Grace, you’re a science man, aren’t you?”
Grace snorted as if Simon had said a joke. “Yeah, why?”
Those black eyes shifted away, but Grace could see a flicker of blood red. “Something’s definitely wrong with me. Something not human. I wanna go… up.”
Grace frowned, confused. “Up?” he pointed.
“Yeah. Up. I thought I wanted to be in the ocean, but staying in there too long makes me feel worse. I wanna go to space, I wanna see the stars.”
”Oh,” Grace said, as if he’d figured it all out. “Oh, Simon, are you homesick?”
He nodded, glad to be on a somewhat similar page. “I definitely feel that way, so I was wondering.. if I could maybe take the Hail Mary, and—“
”Take her alone?” Ryland gasped, offended. “Gosh no, I’m gonna come with you.”
Simon very much liked the idea of that, but the sensible part of his brain was screaming that he shouldn’t indulge whatever oddities had infected him. “No,” he sternly said, wiping the remainder of shaving cream from his face.
”Yes,” Grace insisted with a pout. He placed a hand on Simon’s thigh, and by Eden, did Simon think he was seeing stars. “I know how to pilot her. I can take you and also make sure you’re alright.”
”I’ll be fine,” Simon insisted. His gaze fell onto Ryland’s jugular, thoughts brimming with all the awful things he could do to it.
“Please,” Grace said, “I wanna make sure you’re okay, Si. You realize your thrust will have to be completely different as you leave orbit as opposed to when you’re actually in space, right?”
Simon shrugged, too busy thinking about the wording that Grace used. “Fine. I just… I don’t know. I want to fix whatever’s wrong with me.”
Cruelly, Grace cupped Simon’s cheek, smiling at him from behind tilted glasses. “Oh Si, there’s nothing wrong with you. Save for the eel aspect, but—“
Grace yelped as Simon shoved him off his chair.
It had taken a few days to prepare the ship, and Simon had gotten far worse. He snapped at anyone who came too close to him, and it took all his might not to tackle Grace to the ground. He hated it, this inhuman affliction that needed him off of Erid. But Grace, the Good Samaritan as always, refused to let Simon go by himself.
”You’re my friend,” he’d said, something akin to pleading set behind his blue eyes. “I wouldn’t know what to do with myself if you were gone.”
Oh, that made Simon particularly emotional.
Once the Hail Mary made it out of Erid’s atmosphere and all the other complicated things that Simon couldn’t comprehend, Grace turned on the centrifuge and secured the pair in zero gravity. It was the closest Simon had ever been to the stars.
He stared out the porthole window, pressing his mechanical arm to the glass. Simon knew Grace was watching him, though the thought didn’t deter him any bit. It did however, make him acutely aware of the way Grace’s reflection bounced off the window, setting him against a backdrop of stars.
Simon turned his attention to the fake Grace, his finger sliding over to where his mouth would be. He tapped once, then twice, bemused by Ryland’s intergalactic portrait.
”You feeling okay?” Grace asked, stepping forward and crouching down beside his companion.
A pit formed in Simon’s stomach, something like fear at Ryland being this close to him. At someone so perfect being right by his side. “Yeah.. fine.”
He and Ryland had stood flush before, many times in fact. Thighs touching, shoulders bumping, lots of hugging. But here, it felt different. It felt private. It felt like hunger.
That thought persisted as the hours passed, as Grace showed Simon around the ship and regaled him with stories of Rocky and Tau Ceti and the taumoebas they’d captured. Simon did try to listen, at least in the beginning. However, it became hard to focus when the heat fell over him, thick like a blanket and insulating his body with all the dark desires he wanted to enact. It prickled at the back of his neck, coiled in the lowest part of his abdomen, sung hymns to him from the blackest part of his heart.
So he indulged a bit: letting his fingers dance along Ryland’s shoulder blades, nuzzle his nose into the older man’s hair, brush his fingers against the scientist’s waist. Ryland clearly noticed, coughing or turning away whenever it happened— but he never told Simon to stop. In fact, he would lean into it.
That night the pair slept on mattresses in the dormitory, pulled down from the rafters and stationed with pillows from Grace’s house. They slept on opposite sides, feet occasionally brushing across each other.
Grace slept easily, but Simon stirred throughout the night. Visions of Ryland butterflied through the caverns of his skull, sounds of his sleeping and those whines he let out the time Simon drank his blood. By Eden, that one stuck out the most.
He groaned softly into his pillow, twisting onto his side and sliding the blankets between his legs. He rutted pathetically against them, imagining the cotton of his pillow as the plush of Ryland’s lips. He moved down with the imagery, sinking his teeth into the fabric as though it were the scientist’s neck. Hunger panged in his stomach, along with something more, something carnal that demanded his hips to buck wildly into the sheets.
Simon panted as sweat clung to his clothing, sticking it to his already tender skin. He reached up and grazed at his own gills, pretending it was Grace’s hand that covered them up. That suffocated him.
“Grace,” he groaned, breathless and dizzy. He pulled his hand off the gills and slid it under his pants, teasing the tip of his cock. “Ryland.. Ry…”
Simon dreamed of Grace’s lips around his length, or better yet, Ryland fully sheathed on his cock. That one forced a growl from his throat, guttural and shaky as he fucked into his own hand.
He continued until the pressure was too much, gasping as he came into his own hand. And yet, as Simon did so, he felt the head of his cock stretch apart, a feeling that shot dopamine straight into his brain. When he pulled his hand back out, he discovered translucent balls that glowed a dark red.
“Oh, fuck,” he panted, watching the dim light cascade off the walls.
The next morning (Simon couldn’t really tell a difference between space days), Grace woke his companion up with the sound of his singing.
The convict groaned, then shot up as he looked around the mattress. Oh right, he’d tossed the clothing and his mess into the airlock, praying to every being of Eden that Grace wouldn’t hear. And it seemed he didn’t.
Simon entered the oblong room that Grace deemed his ‘panic corner’, watching his goofy companion belt the lyrics to some song into a microphone. His voice ricocheted off the walls, and it shamelessly made Simon think of gods and choirs and Ryland’s moans.
”Hey, Si!” Grace preened as he shut off the music. “How you feeling today? Is contact with space actually helping ease any of the tension you’ve been feeling? Maybe your cortisol levels were off, I’ll have to write it down and talk to Rocky about—“
”Grace,” Simon swallowed, ignoring the deep growl in his stomach.
“Yeah?” Ryland pulled his glasses down, letting them hang off his chin. “Do you need something else? I brought some medicine that Rocky and I were able to make, they’re replicas of pharmaceuticals you’d find on Earth, and—“
”Grace.” Simon’s lowered tone managed to make Ryland shut up, his hands fisting and unfisting by his sides.
”Yes?”
Truthfully, Simon’s head was pounding, and the longer he stared at Ryland, the worse it got. But he knew— deep in his soul, he knew— that Ryland would also be his remedy. So he grabbed the scientist by the wrist, tugging him back towards the dormitory.
“Uh, Simon?” Grace squeaked, stumbling over his feet in a hurry to match Simon’s pace. “Did I say something wrong?”
Simon would’ve enjoyed it if they took the mattresses over to the porthole window, let any passerby watch as he fucked the older man’s brains out, but he wouldn’t hear the end of it from Grace if that actually happened. So instead, he yanked Ryland into the room, tossing him down onto the mattresses below them.
Ryland winced, about to make a joke about their age difference and his weary bones, when Simon leaned over to tug him up by his hair. It hurt, but Grace let Simon lead him up onto his knees, near inches away from Simon’s hips.
”Si..?” He whispered, staring up with ocean blue eyes.
He looked so saintly, so beautiful. Simon let out a shaky sigh as he fell to his knees next to Ryland and pulled him in for a kiss.
He worried that Grace would reject him, that the scientist would push him off and toss him out of the airlock. That their friendship would be ruined by whatever ailment Simon had. But instead, Grace leaned into it, sighing as he tangled his fingers into Simon’s hair.
They pulled away for a brief moment, Grace needing to tug on Simon’s hair to actually get him to stop. The older man’s face was flushed red, lips wet and parted as he panted softly. Simon could feel his erection growing, his teeth sharpening and the headache gradually giving way as he forced himself not to kiss Ryland again.
”Si, I,” Grace paused, eyes shifting down to Simon’s lap and then back up. “I didn’t expect this.. well, okay I hoped for it, and I guess I did expect it…”
Simon froze, worry dripping cold into his pulsating veins.
“I heard you.. last night… and I saw…”
Simon’s face burned as he slid a hand down it, claws grazing down the bridge of his nose. “Damn it.”
“No! I-I was hoping you felt the same way, but—“
”But what?” Simon murmured, tracing a finger down Ryland’s neck. The whimpers elicited from his companion only fueled Simon’s desire to continue, but shame had finally caught up to his person.
“I… Simon, I couldn’t sleep after I saw those.. the glow, b-but…” Ryland tripped over the sentences forming in his brain, averting his eyes away from the younger man’s. “Well, I wondered what it was, u-um, and I wanted to take a look but you’d tossed it out, so…”
By Eden, Simon thought as the realization crashed down around him. “You wanted to take a peek?”
”For science!” Ryland insisted, his voice rising an octave. “I wondered if what you're feeling is attributed to any physiological needs, l-like being close to the moons and stars your Blood Ocean was from, but then I saw that, a-and heard, and…” He pulled his hands together as though he were praying, pleading eyes boring into Simon’s soul. “I really need to know what they are!”
Simon’s own perversions had been challenged by Ryland’s. “W-What?”
”Oh please!” he begged, “I’ll let you do whatever you want! T-To tell you the truth, I’ve been waiting months for you to do something, a-and now it’s like killing two birds with one stone! Please Si, I’ve liked you for so long now, just please please please continue what you were doing!”
Simon weighed the pros and cons in his head, though he was certainly biased seeing as the pros side had plenty more variables than the cons. So he mulled it over before coming to the conclusion that he wanted to enact this sexual encounter, and Ryland was very clearly willing to oblige. So why look a gift horse in the mouth? (Ryland had said that one before, but Simon never understood it.)
”Okay,” Simon whispered, his voice gravelly and raw.
Grace beamed at him, then promptly looked away, shy to continue. “You keep doing what you were doing.”
Simon couldn’t help but snort. “You sure?” He tucked Ryland’s glasses back into place, swiping away the fog that’d begun to form.
Grace just nodded, tugging Simon forward by his shirt. “Yes. I’ve had feelings for you for so long now, Si. I-I was just so worried you didn’t feel the same, because I’m… well. A man.”
Simon knew about Ryland’s insecurities regarding his own sex, so he tried to mediate Grace’s thoughts by kissing down his neck. “You’re my man,” he said, listening as the scientist gasped in response.
Grace tilted his neck towards Simon, offering himself up like a sacrifice to the gods. And Simon took it, sinking his fangs into the older man’s neck. He revelled in Grace’s cries, his sniffles and eventually his sighs as blood filled the younger one’s mouth.
“So blood drinking is a turn on for you,” Grace mumbled, reaching out to rub Simon’s hardened cock.
Simon rolled his eyes, lazily pulling back to gurgle a response. “You’re the turn on.”
Oh, Grace liked the idea of Simon’s mouth full of his blood. “Gosh, I can’t handle this foreplay,” he whined, scooting closer so their chests were pressed together. “Just do whatever you want, whatever’ll get you inside me faster.”
Simon’s gills flared, and he could feel the tip of his cock swelling with those red pearls from before. So he obliged, tackling Grace down to the mattress.
He was a messy eater, smearing blood along Grace’s shirt and biceps. He ripped the fabric off the older man, listening as Ryland squeaked at the gesture. Then, Simon lowered down, ghosting over Ryland’s erect nipples. He took one into his mouth, his hands working down to tear away Grace’s pants.
The older one tipped his head back, a moan spilling from his lips. Grace rolled his hips against Simon’s bulge, which helping him shimmy out of his pants and boxers. Once all the clothing was gone, Simon looked down, a wet pop pulling his mouth off of Grace’s chest.
“By Eden, you’re beautiful.”
Grace turned redder than ever before, propping himself up on his arms so his abs and atmospheric burns were on display. He shivered as Simon traced the symmetrical scars under his chest, biting his lip to keep from asking for more.
Simon kissed along each scar, then pulled away to slip off his shirt. Scars also ran down his body, some from conflicts, some from the Irong Lung, while others looked just like Grace’s.
“Oh,” Grace whispered, wondering how advanced the procedures were on Eden “We’re got matching scars,” he breathed, leaning in to kiss Simon. “Guess that means we were fated to be together.”
Simon rolled his eyes, causing Grace to snicker. “Okay, now get back to it.”
Simon obeyed, pulling his underwear down to reveal his dripping cock. Immediately, the pair noticed the dim glow coming from the flesh around Simon’s tip, which Grace stared at like it held the secrets of the universe.
“Woah—“ Ryland started to say, before Simon cut him off.
”Not a word.”
”But—“
”Do you want me to fuck you or not?”
Grace opened his mouth to respond, but pouted when no good rebuttal came to mind. So he grabbed Simon’s cock and stroked it gently, listening to the younger man’s soft moans fill the dormitory. He noted the way Simon’s gills flapped, how his claws dug into the mattress, and how his mouth widened like his was making room for either his noises or his teeth. He looked like a predator on full display, and the thought turned Grace on immensely.
Simon tied his hair back, flipping Grace around so his ass was in the air. He kept one hand on the older man’s hip, the other lining his dripping cock up with Grace’s hole. “This one okay?” he asked, watching as Ryland eagerly nodded in response.
The sound of spit echoed, and it was so lewd that Grace could’ve orgasmed from it alone. But he waited, feeling Simon’s thick length slide between his legs. Ryland was trembling, fear and anticipation eating him alive as the cock pressed further and further. Yet his companion wouldn’t actually make the move to stick it in.
Curiously, Grace peeked over his shoulder, gasping when he realized what it was.
It wasn’t Simon moving himself closer to Grace, it was Simon growing. It was obvious, he’d grown at least a foot taller! Though there was no creaking sound, like if his bones had stretched? His abs twitched as he saw the look in Grace’s eyes, and Grace’s mouth dried up as he watched Simon’s lips split apart into four quadrants, revealing rows of eel like teeth.
Before Ryland could comment, Simon was slamming his cock deep inside the older man. It tore him open, causing a gasp of a scream to spill from Grace’s lips. He could feel himself being stretched apart, feel every nerve spark alive with want and pain. Tears formed in his eyes, and Ryland’s glasses pressed against his face as he buried his head into a pillow.
”Don’t be like that,” Simon said as he leaned over the smaller man. He slid a hand under Grace’s stomach, pressing against the bulge that swelled in his belly. His other hand, the robotic one, cupped Grace’s chin and lifted him up. “I wanna hear you, baby.”
Grace frantically nodded, gasping as Simon shifted. He couldn’t see out of his glasses, not unless he tilted his head at an angle. It made him look like a confused dog, which Simon couldn’t help but rut to. He pulled out, then slammed back in with a consistent rhythm that sent Grace bobbing each time.
He couldn’t fully take Simon’s cock, which disappointed the younger man, though his sobs made up for it. Grace’s moans didn’t make him sound 40, while Simon’s growls didn’t make him seem 28. The idea of fucking someone older than him also turned Simon on, and it was only a matter of time before he was gripping Ryland’s hips to keep him in place.
Hot cum spilled into Grace’s hole, but he also squirmed at the feeling of those pearls bubbling out. He could feel the stretch and unstretch as more and more shot out from Simon’s cock, and it became too much for Grace when the mattress below the pair began to glow.
When his stomach began to glow.
It was too much, far too much for Grace to handle. Ecstasy caused stars to form in his vision, and he could barely think of anything other than the feeling of Simon slowly pulling out of him. He turned to look back, trying to find the words to say when his brain felt so scrambled. “S’good…” he moaned, arching like a cat for Simon. “You’re so good…”
But Simon wasn’t done.
Ryland sobered up pretty quick when Simon lifted him up by his hair, pressing Grace’s back flush to the younger’s chest. “You did so good for me,” Simon purred, rubbing Grace’s swollen belly. “My good boy, you did so good..”
Grace was shaking by this point, breath pitchy as his thighs grew wet. “I c-can do even better,” he said, directing Simon’s human hand down to between his legs.
Warm radiated from Grace’s cunt, and the way he tipped his head back onto Simon’s shoulder only egged the younger one on. “Oh yeah?” Simon whispered, his Blood Eel mouth moving down to Grace’s shoulder.
“Y-Yes…”
Simon sat back on the mattress, letting his already erect cock direct Ryland’s gaze. “Prove it. I want you to ride me like I’m your god.”
Ryland crawled forward, a mewl escaping his lips. “Y-You are my god. I can prove it, let me prove it.”
Simon took in a sharp breath, then hoisted Ryland up by his hips and sat his cunt down into the younger’s cock. This time, Ryland could take all of Simon in, and it produced a moan Simon could’ve never imagined coming from Grace. His glowing belly bulged out, full of what Simon came to realize were his eggs.
Yes, that felt right. Eggs. Reproduction. Mating. Turning the beautiful, brave Grace into his little mate.
Simon bucked his hips at the thought, and Grace moaned in excitement. He began to roll his hips, bouncing up and down on Simon’s length. His glasses were askew, barely held on by his chin as he placed his hands on Simon’s chest and pushed him down.
The force caught Simon off guard, but he liked this bratty side of Grace, how it took what it wanted when it wanted.
Grace panted as he rode Simon’s cock, keeping a steady pace that occasionally quickened when his cunt would squeeze around Simon. Ryland fucked the younger man like it would kill him if he didn’t, and maybe it would’ve. Who’s to say?
Simon just watched on, memorizing the sweat that beaded on Grace’s chest, the drool trickling down his swollen lips, the faint glow of red that brightened and dimmed each time he rose up from Simon’s length. It was all too much, it was always way too much.
”Baby, I’m g-gonna—“
Ryland quickened the pace, whining as his eyes fell closed and he tipped his head back.
“Ry, I—“
Grace’s cunt tightened around Simon, indicating that he’d cum. The feeling snapped whatever coils were building in the convict’s stomach, eliciting a groan as he released more eggs into his partner.
Simon’s clawed hand pressed down on Grace’s stomach as he came, applying just enough pressure to make Ryland babble out praises. “Si, s-so good, g-god, you’re so fucking g-good— ah! Y-yes, like that, yes!”
Simon couldn’t believe this heating cycle he’d experienced was outplayed by Grace’s perverse love of science. He panted, rolling his hips in lazy motions to release the rest of the eggs while his robotic arm was careful not to squeeze Ryland’s hip too tight. “You’re my savior,” Simon mumbled, entranced by the shifting hues beneath Grace’s skin.
“And I n-need you to do that w-way more often,” Grace panted, leaning in for a needy kiss. Simon happily obliged, laying the older man back down for a third round.