Quenching Obsidian

The storm gathers as some rises and lightning courses through the ash-filed clouds.  The earth trembles with the magnitude of the heat building within.

She dusts of the ashes from her skin that form as the air itself burns around her, her passion and need giving off a heat so powerful, the asphalt beneath her feet melts where she steps.  Her clothing flows around her in the wind, steaming but not quite burning. She approaches the concrete building, partly concerned that they may destroy it, yet so consumed with her desire that she is incapable of stemming her fires.  She needs what only he can offer, the panacea off his kiss, the balm of his caress to ease her fevered skin, the culmination of their mutual need finally filling an empty, roiling space within her heart and her body.

She enters the room as the door disintegrates to dust, it’s charred wood parting for her feet as the heat around her creates its own wind.  He is standing there, hands clapped behind him, clad in only yoga pants, his eyes cast down, away from the heat of her gaze.  “My Lady” he says, bending to one knee and being his head, “what would you have of me?  I am yours, to serve you as you need.”

The sound of his voice kindles her flames even higher, and as she teaches out to touch him, her heat does not burn him.  Instead, it is transferred to him and sets the flames within his own being alight.  She kneels down to his level and raises his eyes to meet hers. “Please,” she says, her voice husky and almost pained with raw, unadulterated need, “please, Daddy, it burns.  I need you so much right now, it burns.  Please, Daddy, make it stop.”  The look in her eyes is full of flames and desire and love, and the fire bursts forth into his skin, filling him with the same need.

He grabs her behind her head with one hand, fingers entwined in her hair, and crushes her mouth to his, their lips sweeping each other’s in a primal dance that both seem to know at an instinctual level.  The heart of the kiss ignites their clothing, vaporizing it along with the drapery, the wallpaper, the carpet, the bed linens.  All thought of propriety or vicinity, of beds or doors or anything the modern world offers, are turned to ether as their raw need for each other takes over.  Bodies writhe and heat pours off of them as they devour each other, mouths and hands everywhere, touching, teasing, tasting every part of the other in a consummation of heartbeats.  The power of two soul halves meeting and finally joining sets the world ablaze.  She screens when he enters her, a combination of heat and quenching cold, as her body is filled to the deepest depths and her need is fulfilled within its deepest recesses.  With each hard, powerful thrust, he kissed her more gently, tenderly, reverently, as he worships her with his body from within her greatest temple.  As they both climax, a blast of cold reverberates throughout the room, and their soul-melding screams of ecstasy are down our by the thunderclap created by the changing temperatures.  Lightning turns the sky into a neon colored daylight for a brief second, and is quickly gone.

After a short time, they come to, clasped in each other’s embrace.  He looks in her eyes, brushes the black dust from her cheek, and with a smile whispers “God, I needed that!”  She laughs and kisses him, even that playful kiss holding the promise of heat to be created later.  She looks around and gasps, chuckling a bit at the scene.  All around them, everything that was once combustible us now only dust… And the concrete fire walls protecting other rooms are covered in shiny black Obsidian glass.

She smiles back up at him and whispers “I love you, Daddy.  Thank you for quenching my fire… For now, anyway!”  She winks at him as he smiles, knowing it won’t be long at all before her fire builds again, and that he will gladly quench it for her again and again.


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