They are tiny.
They are fragile.
They are mine.
At first they were just something to watch, just something to count the days I was stuck on this dirt clod of a planet by. They lived their life: They worked and played they lived, and I watched. I knew their routine and what they did everyday.
And I learned what they liked.
They like to read on rainy days, they cried during movies, they gripped their pillows as they slept and kicked the sheets off their legs when they rose. They ate toast in the morning and pizza at night. They showered with a song on their lips and a sway in their hips.
And it all started with the want.
First it was the want to push them over and see if they would fall over, how fragile they were. I was almost horrified at the thought, the need to see if they would scream at the sight of me, or faint. What did their blood look like, what did it taste like?
I became disgusted with myself and returned to watching them, ignoring my thoughts.
The next want was the want to touch them, but not in the same way as before. I wanted to rub a servo up their spine, licking their neck and even nipping along their legs and arms. I thought about touching them and even cuddling into them.
I began to watch them more intently.
I caught them.
I caught them and they don’t know it they didn’t see me….
They looked at me through the window, and even though they saw me, they kept going.
Its the first time I’ve ever seen more than their face, neck, and limbs. Their belly is soft and I want to kiss it, their chest is adorable and I want to nibble every inch of it, and that junction between their thighs, where their hand works away at themself to coax those delicious sounds from their throat.
I want to reach in, I want to touch them, to bring them to finish.
They see me.
Thier eys widen and their lips round into an ‘o’ that stars silently befoe becoming quite loud, their overload taking them into is spell.
I want to hold them as they arc.
I want to feel their heartbeat.
I want to feel them tremble.
I want them.
I want them to want me.
And for a moment, I think they do.
They stand and walk to the window, watching me intently before waving their hand.
I wave back, hoping they’ll open the window.
'Let me in’, I mouth.
'No. Not tonight, red-eyes~“, they mouth back, and I know they that they knew.
I grin, 'So, there’ll be another night?’
They nod, then wave goodbye and close the curtains.
And thats good enough for me.