rainbowfic | Skyblue Pink with Striped Polka Dots 12

Name:

starphotographs
Story: Corwin and Friends
Supplies and Styles: Graffiti (Summer Carnival), Miniature Collection, Glitter (http://www.poets.org/poetsorg/poem/erotic-measure-between)
Characters: Piston (POV), Spenser
Colors: Skyblue Pink with Striped Polka Dots 12 (I like nonsense, it wakes up the brain cells.)
Word Count: 541
Rating: PG-13
Warnings: Choose not to warn.
Summary: He didn’t come with a manual. So she decided to write one herself.
Note: Because why not?

This Stubborn Machine

I remember, the first time you put your hand in mine, you laughed nervously and asked me if you were doing it right. So I laughed back and said that, yes, of course. And you were relieved. Because your nerves were frayed from too much playing with electricity, and your hands couldn’t always gauge pressure so well.

So I held on extra tight, to make sure they could feel me.

*****

One of the first things I noticed about you, before I knew we'd be in love for real, was the huge, branching canyon on your back. It was one of the coolest things I'd ever seen. I thought of you in the shower, the water flowing through it like a river.

A few weeks later, you told me how the lightning embossed it there forever, when you were twelve and didn't know what forever was.

Then you told me it was the most sensitive part of that hardened body of yours.

So I touch it whenever I can.

*****

I learned that you were so covered in scars because you saw pain as a challenge, not a threat. There's something admirable in that. It shows your hidden fortitude; shows that my first impression of you was for real. You actually are as open and optimistic as you seem. The kind of guy who smiles when everything’s going to shit. Who sticks around to figure things out, even when your own nerves are telling you to give up.

You need to see the depths of both my respect and my concern for you.

So I try to test you gently.

*****

You don't seem to know how to relax, and I'm not really sure you could learn.

But, I've noticed you always come close when I mess around with your hair. The longer I do it, the nearer you get to relaxed. I want to get you there. And I like watching your approach.

So, when I can tell whatever's inside it is getting a little much for you, I cradle your sweaty-as-hell head in my lap, and get ready to stay sitting, for as long as it takes.

*****

When it's a little cold or humid or whatever, you start having trouble with your left hand. Eventually, I asked why.

You told me a story about how you broke your wrist flinging yourself out of a parking garage, when you were working your horrible old job. The months after, weird shooting pains you didn't understand, a tiny bone cracked in half and wearing away at itself. How they put it back together with a screw, with you awake and watching.

So, when it starts getting cloudy, I make sure that's the hand I always hold.

*****

I'd been with a handful of men and women before. All different, but pretty much the same.

Then you came along, with your tingling nerves and insomnia, the clicking and grinding of old injuries, scars so deep that you could feel me touching your insides.

Your body is something new. I had to climb a learning curve to get on top. It's how I knew you were special.

I've always loved learning how things work.

So I'm trying to learn you, inside and out.