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Ryland Grace x Reader (touch deprived and needy)

Smutty Ryland Grace fanfic where he is touched deprived, and does *it* with you (his first time in over 10 years, since he's been stuck in space ect) (smutty 18+)

Summary: You just landed on Erid, after travelling through deep space alone for 4 years, in search of Dr. Ryland Grace. It’s your second night on Erid, and your second night sleeping in Ryland’s house, sleeping in his bed (that he generously gave you) You just took a nice warm shower right before bed….

Rating: 18+ mature / Word Count: 5.1K

Read the rest of the fic here 10+ chapters of this!!! (wattpad)

My Ryland Grace fic master list (smutty)

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"I think i'm going to shower, if that's okay" I said, placing the last of the dishes in the cupboard.

"Please use the shower as much as you want. I promise there is no rationing system here." He smiled.

"I'm not used to that."

His expression softened. "I know."

So I took another shower.

The second was just as good as the first because I wasn't half-convinced I might wake up and find myself back in the ship's hygiene stall. The bathroom filled with steam, and I stood beneath the warm water until my skin flushed and the ache in my shoulders loosened. While I rinsed conditioner from my hair, I caught myself thinking about Grace.

About how he always showered in the morning. I had noticed that now. Yesterday. Today. He started the day clean, organized, reset. He kept his old shoes lined up perfectly by the door, even though they were practically disintegrating. How he often wore his glasses hanging off his chin, rather then propping them up to rest on his head like most people did. That if he was wearing his glasses regularly, he pushed them up with the back of his wrist. Something about noticing that made me smile. Learning someone's habits felt intimate in a different way. The idea of learning Ryland's habits made me smile.

When I stepped out, I wrapped myself in the same strange, plush makeshift towel from the night before. I dried my hair as best I could, then opened the bathroom door and peeked out.

The bedroom was dim.

The house beyond it was darker now, lit only by a small lamp in the living room and the cool glow of the dome-night through the windows.

On the bed laid the neatly folded pile of clothes. His clothes, again. They were exactly where I had left them from this morning, but where clearly refolded and left perfectly, atop the perfectly made bed.

This morning, I couldn't help but notice that after I'd smoothed the blanket and arranged the pillows as best I could, he had wandered in, probably thinking I wasn't looking, and quietly fixed the corners. Pulled the blanket tighter. Swapped the order of the pillows and clearly, refolded his pjs.

It should have annoyed me. It didn't. It was cute. Painfully cute.

My own clothes were technically here now, somewhere in the crates stacked in his living room. But they were still packed away. And the shirt was already out. The shorts were already out. I also couldn't just go strutting my towel wrapped naked self, through the living room, in front of Ryland.

Really, I was just being practical.

That was what I told myself as I slipped into his oversized T-shirt.

I pulled the shirt on, breathing in Ryland's clean smell that still lingered. I pulled on the basketball shorts next, tying the drawstring tight enough to keep them from sliding down.

I hung the towel neatly in the bathroom, then stepped down from the bedroom into the main part of the house. The room was dark except for a small lamp beside the couch.

Grace was lying there with one arm tucked behind his head, a book open in his other hand. He had changed into sleep clothes too—soft pants, a plain T-shirt, glasses perched low on his nose. The light caught along the frames and softened the angles of his face.

He looked peaceful, and so sleepy. I tried to move quietly toward the kitchen for water, but one of the floor panels gave the faintest creak beneath my foot. Grace looked up at me over his glasses.

His eyes moved to my face first. Then lower, slowly. His gaze lingered for half a second too long before snapping back up to my face.

"How was the shower?" he asked. His voice was calm, laced with a bit of sleepiness.

I walked toward the kitchen like my pulse had not just become a medical event.

"It was absolutely amazing." I said.

"Good." I heard a smile in his voice as I reached for a glass from the cupboard, very aware of him watching me from the couch. I filled the glass and took a long sip, using it as an excuse to do something with my hands.

When I turned back around, he was still watching me.

This time, he didn't look away quickly enough. My face warmed. I looked down at myself, tugging lightly at the hem of the shirt. "I feel like I keep stealing your wardrobe."

"You're not stealing it. I'm lending it."

"Very generously."

"Well, what can I say. I'm an excellent host." He gave a cheeky half smile.

"You are."

He shifted on the couch, book forgotten against his chest, looking at me like he was trying to memorize the scene before him. The softness between us felt almost unbearable. I took another sip of water.

"What are you reading?" I asked, needing something to talk about. I didn't want to go to bed yet.

He glanced down at the book, as if surprised to remember he had one.

"Oh. Um." He lifted the cover. "One of the books from the crate. It's a mystery novel. I have no idea what's happening. I keep rereading the same paragraph."

"Distracted?"

His eyes flicked to me. Then quickly looked away. "You could say." Grace cleared his throat, suddenly very interested in closing the book. "Not in a bad way."

"I didn't think it was in a bad way."

Silenced stretched between us for a moment.

"You should go to sleep," he said, almost telling that to himself, rather than me.

I nodded. "Goodnight, Ryland."

His eyes lifted. "Goodnight."

I pushed away from the counter, and carried my water back toward the bedroom. At the edge of the partial wall, I glanced over my shoulder. He was still looking at me. Caught, he quickly lowered his gaze to the book in his lap. I smiled to myself and stepped into the bedroom before he could see. Approaching the bed, I pulled back the blanket and slipped beneath it, the sheets cool against my legs and the shirt soft around me.

From the living room, I heard Grace shift on the couch. A moment later, the lamp clicked off. Darkness settled through the house.

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I couldn't sleep.

I turned onto my side. Then onto my back. Then onto my other side.

The bed was too comfortable. That was part of the problem. My body didn't know what to do with softness anymore. After four years of sleeping strapped into a pod, every inch of this mattress felt indulgent and wrong. The blankets were warm around my legs, the pillow too gentle beneath my head, the air too still.

I kicked one leg free from the blanket and exhaled into the dark.

It was warm tonight. Warmer than the night before, or maybe I was just restless enough to notice every fold of fabric, every press of cotton against my skin. Grace's basketball shorts twisted around my hips every time I moved, loose and too big and suddenly unbearable.

After another minute of trying to convince myself to ignore it, I sat up.

The room was dim enough that I could barely make out the edge of the bed. I untied the drawstring, slipped the shorts down, and tossed them toward the foot of the mattress. They landed in a soft heap on the floor.

Much better.

The oversized shirt fell low enough over my thighs that I still felt covered, and the cool air against my legs helped.

For about thirty seconds.

Then the restlessness came back. I lay down again and stared at the ceiling.

My mind, apparently deciding that now was the time to process everything that I happened in the last 48 hours.

Lets start with, hmm, landing on an Alien planet, with real alien life. Because that was completely normal. Rocky banging on the door. Meeting the Rocky. Finding Dr. Grace alive and living life amongst the Eridians. Also, Dr. Grace crying into my shoulder, because I was the first person he has seen in over a decade. And now I was lying in Ryland Grace's bed on an alien planet, wearing his shirt, listening to a fake ocean, and suddenly I felt so lonely I could hardly breathe. Not that I was lonely right now, but laying in the dark, technically alone. It was bringing back some sour feelings again. It was so hard to forget the many years of isolation.

From the living room, I heard a soft rustle. The sound of a books page turning. Grace was still awake. For a while, that helped. The knowledge of him out there. The faint, sound of another person existing nearby. I heard him close the book. The couch creaked softly as he shifted, and the silence that followed was enormous.

My throat tightened.

Before I could think better of it, before my pride could stop me, before the sensible part of my brain could remind me that I had already taken his bed and his clothes and too much of his kindness, I called out.

"Ryland?"

The darkness held still. From the living room his voice came soft and instantly alert.

"Yeah?"

I swallowed.

Nothing in me wanted to say the next words. Which probably meant they shouldn't be said, but it was too late.

"Would it be..." I stopped, heat rushing to my face even though he couldn't see me. "Would it be awkward if I asked you to come lay with me?"

Silence. My entire body went rigid as a waited. Panic shot through me.

"I mean, not—" I rushed out, sitting up on my elbows. "I just mean—forget it. Sorry. I just... You don't have to—"

"I'm coming."

The couch creaked and I heard him stand. A few quiet footsteps crossed the living room, slow and careful in the dark. My heart started beating so hard I could feel it in my throat.

Then his shape appeared at the edge of the bedroom. Just a tall shadow in the darkness. He lingered, not coming closer right away.

His voice was low. "Are you okay?"

I looked down at the blanket pooled around my waist. "I don't know."

He stepped closer. "What happened?" he asked.

"Nothing." I let out a small, humorless laugh. "Everything. I don't know. I just..." My voice broke, and I hated it. "I feel weird."

"Weird how?"

"Restless. Lonely." The second word came out quieter than the others.

"Oh," he said softly.

I looked away, embarrassed by the tears that had started gathering before I could stop them. "I'm sorry. I know you've been through worse, and I'm being ridiculous."

"No." His answer was immediate. "No, you're not."

He stood beside the bed now, close enough that I could see him.

"Do you still want me to lay with you?" he asked. The question was gentle. Careful. Giving me every possible way to take it back.

I nodded. "Please."

His throat moved as he swallowed. "Okay."

He lifted the blanket, then paused. "Are you sure?"

I nodded again. "I'm sure."

He slipped into the bed beside me, carefully and oh so awkward. He was trying to take up as little space as possible, which was impossible, because he was Ryland Grace, with Ryland Grace's muscular build.

For a moment, we lay there stiffly beside each other, both of us staring at the ceiling.

The awkwardness was immediate. He took a deep breath as he shifted, and slid one arm beneath my head.

"Is this okay?" he whispered.

Instead of answering, I moved closer, resting my head on his chest.

He was warm, and solid. His heartbeat moved steadily beneath my ear, and I closed my eyes against the sudden sting in mine. My body, traitorous and exhausted, melted into him like it had been waiting for permission. Grace wrapped his other arm around me.

I tucked my face against his shirt and wrapped my arm around his torso. He held me closer, one hand resting between my shoulder blades, the other curled carefully near my arm.

His breathing evened beneath my cheek, slow and deliberate, like he was trying to calm me with the rhythm of it.

"I'm sorry," I whispered.

His chin brushed the top of my head as he looked down. "For what?"

"If this is weird."

A soft laugh moved through his chest. "We are lying in bed together, in a house on a different planet, after both spending years alone in space. The ability for any of this to be weird, left the room a while ago."

I smiled against him. His hand moved over my back, slowly rubbing gentle circles over my shirt.

"You're allowed to need someone." he said, just barely above a whisper.

"Its easy to forget, when its only been me." I lifted my head just enough to look at him.

"Yeah," he whispered. "I know."

The words settled into the dark between us. A quiet beat passed between us, both of us to scared to move. I tightened my arm around him, and he tightened his around me in answer.

What felt like minutes passed. Our faces so close. Sharing the same air. Breathing each other in. Then after what felt like forever, he moved. Slowly, he brought his free hand away from my back, and gently placed his hand up to my face, cupping my cheek. Despite the darkness, I could feel him looking at me.

"Hey," he whispered.

I felt him shift against me, as if he were trying to move closer, though there was hardly any space left between us to close. His arm was still around me, warm and steady, and his other hand remained at my face, his thumb resting just beneath my cheekbone.

His eyes searched mine in the dark, asking a question he hadn't said out loud. His gaze dropped briefly to my mouth, then lifted again, hesitantly, like he was giving me every chance to pull away.

I didn't. I couldn't. I wanted this.

His fingers tightened just slightly against my cheek.

Then Ryland leaned in.

The first touch of his lips was gentle. Barely there. A soft, trembling press against mine, so delicate and careful.

For one suspended second, neither of us moved. The whole house seemed to go still around us. The noise of the settling house faded away. There was only the warmth of his mouth, the steady weight of his hand against my face, and the sudden realization that Ryland Grace was kissing me.

Then he pulled back a fraction, just enough for his breath to brush over my lips.

My breath hitched, as his lips rested just barely enough to feel them. The lightest press of his mouth against mine, so gentle it almost hurt.

Then he kissed me again, and I kissed him back. The gentleness quickly falling away.

Ryland made a low sound against my mouth, his hand tightening at my jaw as he pulled me closer. The kiss deepened, turning hungry and desperate in a way that made my whole body go to mush. Like we had both been holding our breath for years, and somehow this was the first real inhale.

I moved my hands up into his hair, fingers sliding through the soft, messy strands, and he kissed me harder. Like he couldn't get close enough. Like kissing me once had only made him need the second, and the second had made him need a third.

His free arm moved down my back, settling low at my waist, his palm warm and steady through the thin fabric of his shirt. He applied pressure, pushing our bodies even closer. A shiver ran through me at the contact, and he felt it. I knew he did, because his breath hitched against my mouth.

"Should I be more gentle?" He drags a careful hand over my bruised ribs.

"No, I don't want you to" I say, lazily kissing him back.

"Is this okay?" he murmured, barely pulling away.

I nodded, breathless. "Yes."

That was all he needed. He pulled me into his lips again, in a desperate, sloppy, open mouth kiss. His arm tightened around my lower back, and then he was guiding me over him, careful even in his urgency. I shifted, letting him pull me on top of him, my knees sinking into the mattress on either side of his hips.

The new position should have made me self-conscious. It didn't. Not when he was kissing me the way he was. Not when I could feel just how hard he already was, against me.

Ryland continued to move, one hand sliding up my spine, the other holding me close as if he was afraid I might disappear. I pressed into him, and he exhaled sharply against my mouth, the sound sending heat through every part of me. Slowly I began rocking my hips.

The kiss deepened. Slower. Messier. The way he kissed like he had been starving for this kind of closeness and had finally, finally stopped trying to pretend he wasn't. I needed this just as badly as he did.

I pulled back just enough to breathe. His forehead tipped against mine. For a few seconds, we stayed like that, breathing the same air, his hands still holding me in place, mine still buried in his hair.

"We should stop." His eyes closed for half a second, like hearing his name from my mouth did something to him.

"I know."

Then he kissed me again.

Both of his hands came up to cradle my face, thumbs stroking along my jaw as he pulled me down into him. I rocked my hips slowly against the hard line of him, a steady back-and-forth that made heat coil low in my stomach. Ryland moaned into my mouth, the sound vibrating through me, and I felt myself grow slick between my thighs.

"Been so long," he panted against my lips, his voice rough. "Since I've"

"I know" I breathed back, in between kisses.

His palms slid up to cup my breasts through my shirt, squeezing gently before he bent down and caught one nipple between his lips, fabric and all. He sucked and nibbled until the cotton was damp and clinging to me, the sensation sharp and teasing. I gasped, fingers tightening in his hair.

One of his hands slipped beneath the hem of my shirt, warm and rugged as it traveled up my bare skin. When he reached my breast, he didn't hesitate. His fingers closed around me, pinching and tugging at my nipple until I arched into his touch. He kissed me deeper, tongues sliding, spit pooling between our mouths.

He broke the kiss only long enough to peel my shirt off, then froze, eyes dragging over my chest like he was in pain.

"Fuck... oh my god. You're so beautiful," he breathed, voice hoarse. The way he looked at me, like he wanted to devour me but was holding himself back, sent a fresh rush of wetness between my legs.

I stayed perched on his lap, grinding slowly, deliberately, letting him watch. My hands found the bottom of his shirt and tugged. He sat up just enough to help me pull it over his head, and the sight of him made my mouth go dry.

His massive, broad shoulders, thick muscle layered over more muscle, every line of his torso cut and powerful. His defined v-line that I was finally going to see what it pointed too. A rush of heat flooded my core at the sheer size of him beneath me.

I ran my palms over his chest, feeling the heat of his skin, the way his muscles jumped under my touch. Ryland's hands settled on my hips, guiding my slow grind against him as he leaned in to mouth at my throat.

"You feel so good," he murmured against my skin, teeth grazing. "Keep moving like that. Just like that."

I rolled my hips again, slower this time, pressing down harder so I could feel every inch of him through our clothes. His fingers dug into my waist, breath stuttering. One of his hands slid up my back, then around to palm my breast again, thumb circling my nipple while his mouth found mine once more. Deep, wet, and unhurried.

The room was quiet except for the sound of our breathing and the soft, slick drag of our mouths. Every slow rock of my hips made him harder beneath me, and the low, desperate sounds he kept making only made me wetter.

Ryland's hand drifted lower, gripping my hips like he was asking to leave a mark for tomorrow. His other hand stayed at my breast, rolling my nipple between his fingers as he kissed me like he had all night to do it.

I pressed down harder, chasing the friction, and felt his cock twitch against me.

"Mhmmm," he groaned, forehead dropping to my shoulder. "You're killing me."

I smiled, rolling my hips again—slow, deliberate, and filthy.

"Good," I whispered.

Ryland's breathing had turned ragged beneath me. Every slow roll of my hips dragged my soaked core over the rigid length trapped in his pants, and the friction was driving us both insane. I could feel how hard he was. Thick, pulsing, straining against the fabric. A dark, unmistakable wet spot had spread across the front of his pants, completely covering the outline of his cock. I couldn't tell if it was from me, or from him. The sight of it made me grind down harder.

"Fuck—" he groaned, voice cracking with desperation. His hands tightened on my hips like he was barely holding himself back. "You're soaking me."

I didn't stop. I kept rocking, slow and filthy, until a low, broken sound tore from his throat. Suddenly his control snapped.

In one fluid motion he flipped us, never breaking the kiss. My back hit the mattress and he dragged me down toward the edge of the bed until my ass was right at the foot of it. He dropped to his knees between my spread thighs, eyes wild, chest heaving.

His palms slid up the insides of my thighs, slow and hungry. "Do you always sleep with no pants on?" he asked, voice low and teasing even though he looked wrecked. His fingers brushed higher. "No panties either. You did this on purpose." A teasing tone lingered as he spoke.

Heat flooded my face. I was completely bare in front of him now, and the shy, exposed feeling only made the ache between my legs worse. I nodded, biting my lip.

Ryland's gaze darkened. He leaned in and pressed a hot, open-mouthed kiss just above my pussy, then dragged his lips down to the sensitive skin of my inner thigh. His tongue followed, slow and wet, tasting me.

"God, you have no idea how much I've wanted this," he murmured against my skin, voice rough. "How many nights I've dreamed about something like this being possible for me." Another kiss, lower. "It's been over ten years since..." He trailed off, sucking a mark into the soft flesh right beside my pussy. "Ten years of just me and my fist. All alone."

I whimpered, hips twitching. "Ryland, please..."

His mouth kept teasing—kissing, licking, sucking little marks along my thighs and lower stomach while he deliberately avoided where I needed him most. I was shaking.

"It's been a long time for me too," I whispered, barely able to get the words out. "Please. I need—anything. Please."

That seemed to break whatever restraint he had left. He used his thumb to part me, then drew slow, delicate circles around my clit. My legs jerked hard, a helpless little quiver rolling through me. Then he lowered his mouth and licked a long, hungry stripe up my center before sealing his lips around my clit and sucking.

I cried out, back arching. He ate me like a starved man—tongue working deep, then flicking fast over my clit, then sucking again. Wet, obscene sounds filled the room. One of his arms came down across my stomach, pinning me flat to the bed when I started to writhe. When even then I couldn't stay still, he wrapped both arms over my hips, locking me against his mouth as he devoured me.

I could see him—see the way his hand had dropped to palm the massive bulge in his pants, squeezing himself while he groaned into my pussy like my taste was driving him out of his mind. The vibrations traveled straight through me. I ran my fingers through his already messy hair, pulling gently at the ends.

"Yes—Ryland—please," I babbled, my voice breaking. "Oh my god, yes, please—"

The pressure built fast and sharp. My stomach coiled tight, thighs trembling around his head. He didn't let up for a second. When my orgasm finally crashed over me I screamed, broken and pathetic, my whole body locking up as I came hard on his tongue.

At the same time I felt him jerk beneath me. A guttural, muffled groan vibrated against my clit as he continued to palm himself, hips twitching while he kept licking me through it. He didn't stop. Even as I shook and whimpered through the aftershocks, he kept his mouth on me, tongue gentler now, licking up every drop like he couldn't bear to waste any of it.

Only when my tremors finally eased did he rest his forehead against my inner thigh, breathing hard, lips shiny and wet. His pants were visibly soaked. I lay there panting, thighs still twitching around him, completely undone.

Ryland pressed one last soft kiss to my sensitive clit, then looked up at me with dark, dazed eyes.

"Been waiting over a decade for that," he rasped. "And I'm nowhere near done with you."

I pulled back just enough to catch my breath, my fingers still tangled in his hair. "Ryland, please... I want to make you come too." I gave a small, insistent tug.

He grunted against my thigh, sheepish. "I already did."

The admission sent a fresh wave of heat through me. The wet spot. Knowing he'd come just from eating me out, without even being touched, made my stomach flutter with renewed want.

Ryland crawled up over me, mouth finding mine again in a deep, messy kiss. He was already half-hard again, thick and hot against my stomach as he settled between my thighs. I wrapped my legs around his waist, pulling him closer while our tongues slid together.

My hands drifted down, fingers hooking into his waistband and tugging. He broke the kiss with a low groan, stood, and slowly pushed his pants and soaked boxers down in one motion. They hit the floor in a careless heap. His cock sprang free—long, thick, veiny, glistening at the tip. Massive. Perfect.

I couldn't help the small laugh that escaped me. "You're always so neat... did you actually just throw something? On the floor?"

He gave me a crooked, wrecked smile. "No time to be clean right now."

He climbed back between my legs, kissing me again until we were both breathless. When he pulled back a fraction, his voice was rough. "I don't have any condoms."

"It's okay," I whispered, barely able to speak between kisses. "I'm on birth control." I dragged him back down, hungry.

His hand found my breast, palm cupping me, thumb and forefinger rolling my nipple until I arched. I shifted my hips, opening for him, and wrapped my arms around his shoulders. He shuddered hard as he pressed in, the thick head stretching me inch by inch. The feeling was incredible—my walls yielding around him like they had been waiting years for him too.

"Feel so perfect around me," he breathed against my forehead, pressing soft kisses there while he sank deeper. "Oh—oh my god."

My legs tightened around his back, pulling him the rest of the way in. The moment his hips met mine he whimpered, a broken sound that vibrated through his chest. He stayed perfectly still, buried, head thrown back, eyes squeezed shut like he needed a second just to exist inside me.

I looked up at him, waiting, needing more. He gave one testing thrust—slow, shuddering—almost pulling out before pushing back in. Then he found a rhythm, face now buried in my neck, muffling the pretty, desperate sounds he made. He was almost louder than I was. Rhythmic grunts every time he drove in, soft whimpers when I tugged his hair.

"Fuck," he panted, voice strained. "I'm trying so hard not to come already. Fuck."

The swear sounded filthy on his tongue. I clenched around him, loving it.

He kept thrusting, deep and steady, one hand sliding between us to thumb my swollen clit. The added friction pushed me right over the edge. My walls clamped down hard, legs shaking around him as I cried out, coming again.

The feel of me pulsing around him broke what was left of his control. He pushed my legs up to my chest, holding both ankles in one large hand, and fucked me harder—faster, deeper, his moans stuttering. "C-can I—"

"Use your words," I teased, breathless.

"F-fuck, Can I finish inside you?" he begged, voice cracking.

"Please," I moaned, already tipping toward another peak at the thought.

That was all it took. He cried out, hips stuttering as he pumped hot and deep inside me, head falling to my breasts while he rode it out. I kissed the top of his head, stroking his hair as he went limp, half on top of me, half dangling off the side.

Then I felt the quiet shake of his shoulders. He was crying—soft, shaky sobs against my bare chest.

I wiggled down until we were face to face, cradling his head. "What's wrong?"

"It's just... it's been so long," he whispered, voice thick. "God, you have no idea. Living with the thought that you're going to die alone out here. Existing with the idea that you'll never get to be closely intimate with anyone, ever again. That it's been over ten years since I've even seen a woman, never mind how long it's been since I've been with anyone. Fuck. It's just been so long and I—. God, you're so perfect. That was so so so perfect."

Another tear slipped free. I wrapped my leg over him and pulled him into a tight hug, letting him cry against my breasts.

"Happy tears?" I teased gently. I ran a my fingers though his hair gently.

"So so so fucking happy," he laughed wetly, the sound muffled against my skin.

Oh, my sad sad tortured astronaut, I thought to myself. I've got you.

Read Pt. 2 Here (more smut/ its the morning after)

*.·:·.✧ ✦ ✧.·:·.**.·:·.✧ ✦ ✧.·:·.**.·:·.✧ ✦ ✧.·:·.*

If you enjoyed this pls consider checking out the rest of the fic on wattpad 😭 or leave a comment! tysmmmm for reading!

Find my Ryland Grace fic master list here (smutt city)

Read the full fic on wattpad here!

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