QSFer Reese Morrison has a new M-NB sci-fi romance out, the SPARK Files book 1: Garbage.
Evan isn’t brave.
But when he hears a group of Human Firsters attacking a humanoid garbage collection bot, he has to step in. He rescues an undiscovered SPARK, a self-aware android who’s never experienced life outside of his collection route and the miserable, gray trash depot.
Evan wants to help. But he might have underestimated just how cute Quincy can be. Or just how difficult it would be living with a sexy android who’s exactly his type. But if Evan couldn’t get his crappy exes to stick around, how could he ever capture Quincy’s interest?
Quincy loves flowers growing in sidewalk cracks. And making food in Evan’s kitchen, even though he can’t eat it. Oh, and jokes. Quincy loves jokes. He’s kind of even getting good at them.
Most of all, he loves Evan.
As Quincy settles into his new life, he can’t escape from prejudice against SPARKs. Evan is everything he wants, if only he can stay off the Human Firsters’ radar long enough to win his love.
Garbage is a hurt/comfort story with a cuddliest android you’ve ever met and a sweet, submissive man who wishes he were good enough to deserve him. It has sloth jokes, a kidnapping, an android trying to figure out humanity (and paperclips!), body positivity, and kinky fun with some extra robot appendages…
Warnings: hate speech, on-page assault, and body shaming
Get It At Amazon
Excerpt
Evan’s hand was warm on Quincy’s bare arm. “Hey Quincy, I was just going to tell you that my friend can bring you some upgrades tomorrow and answer your questions.”
“Oh… really! Evan, really? You would do that for me?” Quincy stood up. He didn’t even know why. He bounced a little on his toes.
“Are you OK?” Evan asked.
“Yes.” He nodded. A lot of times. “I just have… There’s too much… I think I am happy, and I don’t know what to do.”
Evan stood up, too. “Would you like a hug?”
“A hug? Oh yes! A hug please.”
Evan’s arms encircled his chest and oh… that was much better than bouncing. Evan was soft but sturdy at the same time, and he smelled good. Better than hot chocolate, even.
“You can put your arms around me, too,” Evan told him.
Quincy’s body wiggled—another thing he hadn’t expected—and then he popped out all his arms, tugging up his shirt to make space. The humanoid ones wrapped around Evan’s back, feeling all the warm planes of his muscles. And then, somehow his claw arms landed a little lower and the steam hoses wrapped around Evan’s legs. Quincy was still bubbling with happiness, and all he could think to do was squeeze Evan tighter and rock back and forth. He wrapped his hoses around Evan’s legs in another loop.
Evan’s body went rigid and he made a little sound that wasn’t a word. More like a moan. “I guess you’re excited, huh?” His voice came out funny and his face was a little pink.
Quincy froze, like his pistons were locked in ice. In an instant, he snapped all of his appendages back into place. Well, not the humanoid arms, since he couldn’t retract them, but the creepy parts of his body. “I’m sorry. That was wrong.” He took a step back. Then another.
“Hey, what’s wrong?” Evan only looked concerned.
“My… my other limbs? They’re steam hoses and tripod pincers, and I promise they’re clean.”
“Of course they’re clean,” Evan soothed. “You just took a shower.”
“But they’re still creepy.” Quincy was confident about that. “I won’t take them out again.”
Evan’s brow furrowed. “That’s ridiculous. They’re part of you. Here, take them out now.”
Quincy cycled through all of his memories and decision trees, but Evan was just standing there, waiting with an expectant look on his face.
Quincy slowly brought them out, one hose and one claw on each side, down by his waist. Mo, his old partner at the garbage depot, had told him that they were less threatening when they weren’t above his head.
“There,” Evan announced. “They’re beautiful. May I?”
He reached toward one hose, and it took Quincy a moment to realize he wanted to touch it.
“Uh, okay.”
Soft, warm fingers wrapped around the conical tip. Quincy shivered, little bursts of motor impulses that he didn’t seem to be able to control.
“Is that alright?” Evan was watching him closely. “Can you feel that?”
“Uh, I can feel it. I don’t have as many sensors per unit area as on my hands, but there are still a lot.” Plenty for him to feel how gently Evan was holding him. Plenty for him to feel the caress as Evan stroked his thumb down the ringed metal tubing.
Quincy was too terrified to move. It felt unexpectedly good, and he didn’t want Evan to get scared and stop.
“And here?” Evan asked. He reached slowly enough toward the pincers that Quincy could have drawn back, but he didn’t. Evan made contact, tracing around the inside of one spider-like metal finger. “Can you feel that?”
“Yeah. I, uh, have all the sensors there, too. Temperature and pressure.” Data was streaming in, but he hadn’t known it would feel so nice.
No, not just nice. Glorious.
Author Bio
Reese Morrison lives in Philadelphia with their partner, two precocious children, and intermittent housemates, guests, and homeless, queer teens. Their hobbies are volunteering on too many boards, planting gardens that they forget to water half-way through the summer, making up songs for their kids, and doing math-y things as a freelancer.
Reese and their partner both identify as genderqueer and are part of a vibrant community of queer and trans folks. They started writing because they were dissatisfied with the lack of trans and genderqueer characters in what they were reading and finally decided to do something about it. Many, but not all, of their books are kinky (for a whole range of kinks…) and they feel that it’s important to represent a range of backgrounds, dis/abilities, gender presentations/identities, and body types in their writing.
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