ManCandy Monday – uP In ArMs

        

MUSE ME ONLY BY PRINCESS S.O.

TEASER:

I took a step back, scanning my eyes over the painting in its works. Fingers coated in an array of colors absently scratched at my chest leaving traces of their presence there along with the number of other self-inflicted deposits with far less purpose or designing scheme as what I’d created so far on the canvas. Every color accentuated a muscle form of the body I placed within it— trapezius— latissimus dorsi— posterior deltoid— needed more chrysocolla a second cousin to Vermillion copper. Then perhaps a touch of folium, a deeper violet color to move towards the tricep group and the brachialis. And of course when I reached for it, it was empty. That’s what I get for making small batches. But months of sitting up here watching my paints dry rather than dance across the white stage to the note of a dwindling supply had motivated me to mix in smaller batches now.

I took one last pause to absorb what I’d done so far, while once more absently scratching some part of my body then tapping my lips with ideas and oh yeah probably left some color there too. It was a constant haphazard byproduct of my workings that a good majority of second hand paint made it to my body. Making showering a joy having to scrub all the paint off afterwards. But for now it was what it was. If I itch, I scratch. This constant renewal of byproduct also led to me wearing very little in the way of clothing while I painted. Less chances of ruining my clothes. My body was far easier to clean it off of, bringing me to tell you what it is I actually wear. For starters I do wear something. It took only once having to try and get the paint off my dick to rid me of that skin freedom. But I did enjoy loose, baggy comfort, so a pair of lounge pajama pants, and a button down cardigan was about it. Of course there was no such rituals that it had to be a certain sweater or a certain color of pjs. As it were both would be tossed in the boiler furnace, having succumbed to too much paint splatter to be comfortable any longer, and replaced with the next grab.

But alas there was no getting around it, I definitely needed more of that particular violet shade and the green copper, so I climbed down, snatched the cups and headed over to the tempera table. That’s when my unexpected guest arrived.

The clatter of the roll doors going from right to left gave their arrival away. Admittedly it startled me, but then my eyes befell the Adonis body I recalled having slept with walked in and I pulled a small stereo remote from my sweater pocket, and muted the music. “My muse pays me a visit. To what fate that I owe such hedonism to?” Whether he understood my regal quip was uncertain, but it did put a grin on his face.

“You know you’re going to get robbed one of these days.”

“Are you here to rob me then?” I chuckled while I measured out several scoops of the chrysocolla powder into my cup.

“I may have come to steal a fuck or two.” He raised his eye brows in a sultry mischiefness as he made his way to join me at the table.

“Ah, then you may be out of luck. For I have no fucks to give. I’m an asshole, remember?”