The Taste of Fire (V.1)
folder
Angst › General
Rating:
Adult +
Chapters:
1
Views:
603
Reviews:
1
Recommended:
0
Currently Reading:
0
Category:
Angst › General
Rating:
Adult +
Chapters:
1
Views:
603
Reviews:
1
Recommended:
0
Currently Reading:
0
Disclaimer:
This is a work of fiction. Any resemblance of characters to actual persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental. The Author holds exclusive rights to this work. Unauthorized duplication is prohibited.
The Taste of Fire (V.1)
He held her sobbing form to his heart, fingers blindly seeking the drops of wetness that streamed from her eyes.
"I can't stop seeing it. I can't stop."
"Hush"¦ Shh.. It will all be okay." He'd stopped counting long ago how many tears he wiped away. All that mattered was that he did.
"How can you say that?!" She cried out, outrage filling her voice. "You only say that because you can't smell burning flesh. Because the taste of fire and ash isn't burned into your mouth!"
"I can say it. Because you're alive, and I'm alive. And your sister wouldn't want you to be like this."
"My sister is dead."
Despite her anger, she still held on to him. He, her only lifeline. The only person in all the wreckage willing to take up the sobbing burden that was now in his arms.
Now the night cloaked them, soothing her eyes after the fire that seemed to fill every pore, every orifice of her body. The fire that had burned so brightly like the day.
"One day, you will think back on this day and you'll be too tired to cry," he whispered into her hair, her horribly mutilated hair, the ends singed and far too close to her scalp. Where once had been a gorgeous blanket of hair, there was only a cloud of blackness, the color of the ashes that surrounded them now.
She laughed, a horrible, piteous sound. "Is that supposed to be a comfort?" she asked between gulps.
"One day you won't think about this."
"What comfort is that when all I have is now?"
"One day, your now won't be filled with pain."
"I don't care about one day, dammit! I just want to get her screams out of my ears, the smell of flesh, her flesh burning! All I want is for sight of fire to leave my eyes, for the taste of ashes to go away."
He moved his head without thinking, until his eyes were level with hers. "I can make the taste go away," he whispered huskily in the moments before his lips caught hers.
The kiss surprised both of them, but neither wanted to break it. She wound her fingers in his hair. His hair was perfect, unmarred by the flames he had failed to douse. He drew her body closer, something he couldn't yet understand driving him to deepen the kiss, to explore her mouth with his tongue. A pain welled within him that was, he fancied, a bit like hers. He desperately wanted to end that pain in her.
To her, the kiss was a lifeline, much like him. In the seconds that had lapsed since his lips first sought out hers, she had tasted only sweetness, a sweetness unique only to him. All too reluctantly, she drew back from the kiss, her cheeks flushed slightly, her lips yearning for more. "Make it disappear," she whispered to him. "Teach me. Teach me to forget."
Right then, with the burned skin of her hands, with the singed halo of her hair, with the tears reddening her eyes, she looked more beautiful to him than she had ever seemed before.
Obligingly, he lowered her onto the ground. It was soft, ironically, from the ash. "We're going to be gray and sooty," he said, the boyish grin on his face a mockery of what had been.
"Don't give me time to think, please. I just want to forget."
The smile faded and he looked grave as he sat beside her. "Are you sure?"
In answer, she pulled his head down and caught his lips in a searing kiss, her hands abandoning his head to begin unbuttoning his shirt. The shirt had been so clean only hours before. Now there was no one left to care.
He allowed her to undress him, while he occupied himself with her. He kissed her cheek gently, kissing away the tears that poured so freely down it. Slowly, gently he kissed her neck, working his way down to the collarbone.
She finished unbuttoning his shirt, and he shrugged the garment off, freeing his skin to the chill night air. Then he turned his attention to her clothing. She was wearing a simple summer dress, the kind that zipped on the back and made for complicated dressing and undressing if one is alone. For him, it was a simple matter to remove the constricting garment. She shuddered as the wind fanned across her warm skin. She had been burned by the fire, and warmed by his arms, she had forgotten what cold felt like.
He encased her in his arms again, protecting her from the worst of the wind, and kissed her skin again. She shuddered, not from the cold this time, but from the heat building within them both. Under her nimble fingers, his remaining clothing was quickly discarded.
They were both new at this and unsure, but he followed instinct, hoping that it would lead him right.
From then it was just moments of consciousness.
His thumb rasped on the taut skin of her breast.
Her, back arched, moaning, as his tongue teased her nipple.
His fingers caressing the sensitive flesh of her sex.
"This is your last chance to back out," he said, even as he positioned himself to enter her.
No. Her first coherent thought and it was a single word.
She looked at him, sooty and sweaty and filled with desire. "I wouldn't have gone this far only to back out now."
He nodded, closed his eyes, and thrust.
She threw her legs around his waist, moving up to meet his thrust.
Her cry echoed to the heavens when at last they broke through that fragile membrane of her virginity.
There was no thought left. Only the fire, their bodies, and the sweetness of it all.
They kissed as though they had found an oasis in the desert. They kissed as though if they were to stop for breath, the very world would end.
She climaxed first, and he soon after, their cries the only sounds in the dead world around them.
She didn't know how long they lay that way, limbs intertwined. But they didn't move, even as she stroked his cheeks, as he kissed the tears that came anew.
"Is there nothing left but us?" she whispered to him in the pre-dawn stillness that surrounded them.
"There is something left, somewhere. But here, there is nothing but us." He held her close to his heart, stroking her supple flesh, kissing away her tears.
"What are we going to do?"
"We're going to find some way to survive. We can make it. And if we die, there's no better place for me to die than with you."
"Don't talk about death. We've had enough of death to last us many lifetimes."
"Yes."
"The ground is soft," she murmured softly, eyes half-lidded.
"It's the ashes."
She giggled a little bit, already falling asleep, "Now that's irony."
He waited until her eyes closed and she breathed evenly. Then he disengaged from her arms and got up. He searched out their clothing and put it in a pile next to them, so they wouldn't have to look for it when they woke up.
Then he lay down and took her in his arms again. "Sleep well," he murmured, both to himself and her.
They didn't dream of fire that morning, but of a sweetness so piercing that it made one want to cry.
"I can't stop seeing it. I can't stop."
"Hush"¦ Shh.. It will all be okay." He'd stopped counting long ago how many tears he wiped away. All that mattered was that he did.
"How can you say that?!" She cried out, outrage filling her voice. "You only say that because you can't smell burning flesh. Because the taste of fire and ash isn't burned into your mouth!"
"I can say it. Because you're alive, and I'm alive. And your sister wouldn't want you to be like this."
"My sister is dead."
Despite her anger, she still held on to him. He, her only lifeline. The only person in all the wreckage willing to take up the sobbing burden that was now in his arms.
Now the night cloaked them, soothing her eyes after the fire that seemed to fill every pore, every orifice of her body. The fire that had burned so brightly like the day.
"One day, you will think back on this day and you'll be too tired to cry," he whispered into her hair, her horribly mutilated hair, the ends singed and far too close to her scalp. Where once had been a gorgeous blanket of hair, there was only a cloud of blackness, the color of the ashes that surrounded them now.
She laughed, a horrible, piteous sound. "Is that supposed to be a comfort?" she asked between gulps.
"One day you won't think about this."
"What comfort is that when all I have is now?"
"One day, your now won't be filled with pain."
"I don't care about one day, dammit! I just want to get her screams out of my ears, the smell of flesh, her flesh burning! All I want is for sight of fire to leave my eyes, for the taste of ashes to go away."
He moved his head without thinking, until his eyes were level with hers. "I can make the taste go away," he whispered huskily in the moments before his lips caught hers.
The kiss surprised both of them, but neither wanted to break it. She wound her fingers in his hair. His hair was perfect, unmarred by the flames he had failed to douse. He drew her body closer, something he couldn't yet understand driving him to deepen the kiss, to explore her mouth with his tongue. A pain welled within him that was, he fancied, a bit like hers. He desperately wanted to end that pain in her.
To her, the kiss was a lifeline, much like him. In the seconds that had lapsed since his lips first sought out hers, she had tasted only sweetness, a sweetness unique only to him. All too reluctantly, she drew back from the kiss, her cheeks flushed slightly, her lips yearning for more. "Make it disappear," she whispered to him. "Teach me. Teach me to forget."
Right then, with the burned skin of her hands, with the singed halo of her hair, with the tears reddening her eyes, she looked more beautiful to him than she had ever seemed before.
Obligingly, he lowered her onto the ground. It was soft, ironically, from the ash. "We're going to be gray and sooty," he said, the boyish grin on his face a mockery of what had been.
"Don't give me time to think, please. I just want to forget."
The smile faded and he looked grave as he sat beside her. "Are you sure?"
In answer, she pulled his head down and caught his lips in a searing kiss, her hands abandoning his head to begin unbuttoning his shirt. The shirt had been so clean only hours before. Now there was no one left to care.
He allowed her to undress him, while he occupied himself with her. He kissed her cheek gently, kissing away the tears that poured so freely down it. Slowly, gently he kissed her neck, working his way down to the collarbone.
She finished unbuttoning his shirt, and he shrugged the garment off, freeing his skin to the chill night air. Then he turned his attention to her clothing. She was wearing a simple summer dress, the kind that zipped on the back and made for complicated dressing and undressing if one is alone. For him, it was a simple matter to remove the constricting garment. She shuddered as the wind fanned across her warm skin. She had been burned by the fire, and warmed by his arms, she had forgotten what cold felt like.
He encased her in his arms again, protecting her from the worst of the wind, and kissed her skin again. She shuddered, not from the cold this time, but from the heat building within them both. Under her nimble fingers, his remaining clothing was quickly discarded.
They were both new at this and unsure, but he followed instinct, hoping that it would lead him right.
From then it was just moments of consciousness.
His thumb rasped on the taut skin of her breast.
Her, back arched, moaning, as his tongue teased her nipple.
His fingers caressing the sensitive flesh of her sex.
"This is your last chance to back out," he said, even as he positioned himself to enter her.
No. Her first coherent thought and it was a single word.
She looked at him, sooty and sweaty and filled with desire. "I wouldn't have gone this far only to back out now."
He nodded, closed his eyes, and thrust.
She threw her legs around his waist, moving up to meet his thrust.
Her cry echoed to the heavens when at last they broke through that fragile membrane of her virginity.
There was no thought left. Only the fire, their bodies, and the sweetness of it all.
They kissed as though they had found an oasis in the desert. They kissed as though if they were to stop for breath, the very world would end.
She climaxed first, and he soon after, their cries the only sounds in the dead world around them.
She didn't know how long they lay that way, limbs intertwined. But they didn't move, even as she stroked his cheeks, as he kissed the tears that came anew.
"Is there nothing left but us?" she whispered to him in the pre-dawn stillness that surrounded them.
"There is something left, somewhere. But here, there is nothing but us." He held her close to his heart, stroking her supple flesh, kissing away her tears.
"What are we going to do?"
"We're going to find some way to survive. We can make it. And if we die, there's no better place for me to die than with you."
"Don't talk about death. We've had enough of death to last us many lifetimes."
"Yes."
"The ground is soft," she murmured softly, eyes half-lidded.
"It's the ashes."
She giggled a little bit, already falling asleep, "Now that's irony."
He waited until her eyes closed and she breathed evenly. Then he disengaged from her arms and got up. He searched out their clothing and put it in a pile next to them, so they wouldn't have to look for it when they woke up.
Then he lay down and took her in his arms again. "Sleep well," he murmured, both to himself and her.
They didn't dream of fire that morning, but of a sweetness so piercing that it made one want to cry.