The last sensation Forrest had felt as a man had been excruciating pain. Every fibre, every cell of his body had begun to detach from every other, and no matter how his mind screamed and railed against it, his disparate parts continued to dissolve and disperse until pain no longer even registered as a sensation he could feel. Then there was the dark and the fire. He had wanted to curl up, tuck his head to his chest and protect his body from the heat of the inferno, but he soon found that he had no head, no chest, no body at all to speak of.
Instead, he had entered another type of existence all together. One that completely defied his understanding of the world as it existed. The heat, which he knew would have been deadly to him as a human being was instead just an experience, a sensation that licked over his new senses, as unthreatening as a sunbeam on a warm summer's day.
After the heat came the cold, and with that, his thoughts became slow and sluggish. He was aware, on some level, that time was passing. But thinking was hard, and it was easier to just drift in the cold dark. Then he felt a sensation again. Warmth, not quite so hot as that first burning, and something sliding smooth over what he'd begun to understand as his body.
And then, suddenly, sensation - light, sound, colour, sight! He existed again, in the brilliant and wide open world. All he saw was a wrinkled face and wide, startled eyes. Then he was falling, falling, and with a snap his existence shrunk back down to that cool darkness once more. Gradually he began to understand the parts of his new existence. The smooth metal carapace that was his skin, the hollow reservoir of his belly, the hinge his only joint and wheel and striker that made his spark were his lungs, heart, liver and any other organ he could think to remember.
There were other instances, other moments of warmth that bloomed into confusing seconds of full sensation. Shocked faces, screams, curses. Not many, but every single one stuck out in his long and cold memory like stars in an empty night.
Then one day, he felt something different. Usually, sensations came to him as changes in temperature and pressure, neither plesant or unpleasant. He was being held, but in no way he'd ever been held before. He was being stroked, caressed even, and it felt... good. It was like no sensation he had ever felt before as a man or as an object. It made his body heat in ways he didn't even know were possible for him, and as he did his mind began to wake up, his thoughts igniting into full awareness.
Something about the person who held him was coming through to him through those touches. Pure lust, bound up in a complicated tangle with anger, anxiety, and anticipation. He'd caught human emotions before in this form, but never directed so strongly at him. This person wanted something so fiercely it bordered on obsession. He could do nothing but tremble, and he wanted with them more than anything else to be sparked, to be fire and flame, and to burn.
The anticipation ratcheted higher and his body hummed with it, taught as a bowstring in concert with the person who wielded him. Heat pulsed through his metal form, and if he had a voice with which to beg, he would have used every word in his vocabulary to beg the touch to stop, to never stop, for the turn of the wheel that would provide the spark of blessed release.
It came all of a sudden. The thumb on the striker and he felt the flame ignite, and his physical form bloom into existence along with it. He could barely register the world around him as his body contracted, the force of orgasm rocketing through him with embarrassing ferocity, hot ropes of cum splashing against his belly and thighs. He panted and shuddered as an aftershock rocked through him. It was several long moments before he realized that he could still feel. He still had a human body, and no one was screaming. He snapped his eyes open was staring directly into a pair of stormy grey ones, beneath furrowed, dark auburn brows. Then more sensations came to him. He was seated on a cold tile countertop, half in, half out of a sink. Rough denim-covered hips pressed between his thighs. Hips that belonged to the man with the grey eyes. Startled he opened his mouth to speak.
Instead, the man roughly shoved him back against what must be the bathroom mirror, a big hand around his throat. Out of the corner of his eye, Forrest could see that that the man still held the body of his lighter, in his other hand, the wavering flame still lit. He choked in surprise as the hand closed over his windpipe, just firm enough to restrict his breathing and stop him from breathing. He tried to move, to push the hand off his throat, but he barely remembered what it was like to have a body, and his limbs were refusing to cooperate the way he wanted. His squirming did nothing but encourage the other man to come closer, and Forrest felt the rough denim over those hips press harder against his crotch, as the hand around his throat tightened.
"The fuck kind of Genie bullshit is this?" He asked, eyes narrowed. Forrest opened his mouth again but he could do nothing but gape like a fish. The hand around his throat eased just enough that he could gulp in great gasps of air.
"What?" He choked out. Then, as quickly as it had happened just moments before, his world snapped back to metal skin and the sensation of temperature.
Panic bloomed through him in a way it hadn't in years, not since those initial moments that he had become the lighter. He could not go back to not feeling anything again, not after feeling so much of everything all at once. Who knew how many years it would be before someone took the chance to spark the flame again? But he was still being held. This time the feelings now were different, and he had just started to get enough focus to untangle them before his body bloomed into being again.
This time, he barely had enough time to react before he was tripped and slammed down into what turned out to be a bathtub. The man was on top of him, one hand back at his throat, the other holding the lighter high in the air, its flame dancing wildly with the motion. Forrest clawed for the object, but the bastard was stronger than he looked, besides having stupidly long arms. The more Forrest fought, the tighter the man held until black spots swam across his vision. He had to resort to clutching at that grasping hand, gasping for air. His world narrowed to that hand and the storm cloud eyes that stared directly into him.
"Please," he wheezed, hoping that the plea would perhaps inspire mercy.
"Please what?" The man asked, and the flame of the lighter danced in his eyes. Forrest tried to draw breath and found that the pressure had let up just enough that a sip of air could enter his lungs. He felt his body flood with relief as he could breathe again.
"What?" He asked, head spinning. Internally he cursed. Human for the first time in God knew how long and he had managed all of two words
"What are you asking for?" His captor asked.
"Get off me?" Forrest tried, without much hope.
"Let me think... No." Forrest saw his attention go back to the lit lighter. His fingers touched the lid as if he were going to close it again.
"Please keep the flame lit!" He burst out, drawing the man's attention back to him.
"What happens when I don't?"
"I go back in, Please, its been so long," He begged, "Please let me stay out for longer, I'll do anything" The man stared at him for a long moment, and those cool gray eyes went hot. Forrest felt sweat bead on his forehead and started to think he should retract that offer. He looked away from the intensity of the gaze, but there was nothing else to look at but the man's lean, hard body, clad in dark denim, impossibly tight, and a black t-shirt with a curious white stain on it that he belatedly realized was probably his own spend, splashed on him in the insane first moments he had first been a man again. He felt a blush rise to his cheeks, hot and uncontrollable. God he was naked, with a man perched on top of him, and his body was still thrumming with the residual pleasure of his first release, not to mention the strange euphoria that had overcome him when he had been allowed to breathe again. His cock twitched in response, and he prayed to anyone who was listening that his captor didn't notice.
"I'm going to let go. You try anything, fire goes out, got it?" Forrest nodded in response, still staring at the white splash against the other man's belly.
"I'll need a Yes, Master on that," The man said, and his lips twisted in a parody of a smile, one crooked canine tooth pressing obscenely into his lower lip. He then rocked his hips backwards ever so slightly, and Forrest felt the deliberate pressure of the man's ass in those damn jeans against his cock, already at half-mast.
"Like Hell!" Forrest's head whipped up and he said before he could stop himself. The man instantly snapped the lighter shut and he dissolved back into its metal body, leaving only blackness.
