Follow the River

Paint sex is a lot of fucking fun.

And the aftermath, washing each other clean in the shower? Equally as enjoyable.

But what isn’t a good time? Trying to clean off dried acrylic paint from hardwood floors.

What can I say? I don’t always think my brilliant ideas through completely.

This was most definitely one of those times.

Even still, I don’t think I’ve ever smiled as much as I have this morning, watching Rain scrub the floor, bitching and moaning under his breath about my asinine ideas, only to look up and catch me staring.

And then…he’d smile back.

Not a smirk, but a genuine fucking smile, and I think part of me died right there.

I want nothing more than to be the reason behind it, for as long as I can be.

Oh, and the canvas? It turned out really fucking cool, so I’d say it was well worth the cleanup hassle.

It’s like I said before.

Art, like love, is messy.