Torch

by Roxie Noir

  I run my hands down his torso, over his shirt, and swallow. I can feel the muscles rippling underneath, and it sends a bolt of heat rushing down through my body. Hunter lets my nipples go, only to grab my hips as he slides his knees further under me so now I’m sitting on him, his erection right between my legs, nothing more than two very thin layers of cloth between us.

  I pull his shirt toward me again and we kiss, hard. I move my hips, rubbing myself along Hunter’s length, and he grunts, his hands under my shirt. His rough fingertips find my nipples and tweak them, gently at first and then harder. I arch my back, my head against the glass.

  Hunter pulls my shirt off over my head and bends down, his lips on my neck. It tickles, and I laugh but it turns into a moan as his lips keep moving down. He finds one nipple and swirls his tongue around it, sucking gently.

  I gasp, and my hand tightens on his side, under his shirt. That move is new. He does it again, then does it to my other nipple and this time I moan, my fingers digging into the hard muscles around his waist, my hips rocking against him, his bulge still pressing against me deliciously.

  Finally, he stops and I tug his shirt over his head. Hunter throws it somewhere behind him as I grab the back of his neck, then pull him in toward me, kissing him desperately, my tongue searching out his.

  I let my other hand drift down his torso, over the ripples of his hard muscles, until I’ve got my fingers on the head of his cock, sliding over the ridge of the crown.

  Hunter growls and grabs my ass, his fingers digging in as he pulls me against him, so I wrap my hand around the shaft, through his pants, and squeeze.

  He breaks the kiss, gasping.

  “Don’t make me come in my pants,” he says, breathing into my ear.

  I laugh and squeeze again, moving my hand down the length of his thick shaft. He groans.

  “C’mon, Clem,” he says, his mouth against my neck as he pushes his length into my fist. “Getting my only pair of comfy pants dirty is just cruel.”

  I kiss him again, slowly.

  “That much of a hair trigger?” I ask.

  “Not usually,” he murmurs. “Just right now.”

  I squeeze his cock again, because I like the way he fills my hand, and I’m breathless with anticipation for what’s about to happen.

  Hunter groans again, then straightens his back and slides his hand into my leggings, the material giving way easily as his fingers find my clit instantly. I exhale hard and my eyes close. I turn my head to one side as he rubs me in slow circles, and I can feel his eyes searching my face.

  “I find it?” he murmurs.

  I just nod breathlessly. The first several times we did this, there was a lot more fumbling, but like I said: he’s a quick study.

  “It’s like riding a bicycle,” he says, his slick fingers still moving on me.

  I swallow, then take a breath.

  “I’m not a bicycle,” I murmur.

  I give his cock another squeeze, then grab the waistband of his pants and pull them down his thighs until his cock springs free.

  I spend a moment just looking at it, because I’m going to be honest: it’s fucking magnificent. I’ve been with other men in the past eight years, and some of them were pretty good lovers, but Hunter’s still got the nicest cock I’ve ever encountered.

  Honestly, it’s kind of a bummer when the first dick you ever see ends up being the best. Well, it was a bummer until now. I wrap my hand around it, stroking him slowly from root to tip.

  “I’m gonna give you a good, hard ride anyway,” Hunter growls, and slides his fingers down and into my entrance, the heel of his hand still against my clit.

  “Shit,” I whisper as he crooks his fingers inside me, his hand still rubbing my clit. My hips buck on their own, and the glass behind me rattles in the pane. I don’t even have time to be surprised that he said he’d ride me, just insanely turned on.

  He keeps going, and I grip his cock harder in my fist. He’s practically leaking precum, the head slick with it, and I rub my fingers over him as he growls softly.

  I’m already getting close, my core tensing as his fingers keep moving insistently, my breath coming in gasps as his cock pulses in my fist, so rock-hard I think he also might be about to come.

  “Jesus, Hunter,” I whisper. He crooks his fingers again and I bite my lip so hard I think I nearly draw blood. I arch my back, my hips moving practically on their own, like I can make him do this harder or faster.

  He’s just watching me, a look of total concentration on his face. My eyelids flutter open and I look at him.

  He grins, and I feel like everything is going a little blurry around the edges.

  “I did miss watching you lose control like this,” he murmurs.

  I just whimper, because I think I’m about to come, and I feel totally helpless against it. His fingers move again, and I can feel myself on the brink, ready to fall over it.

  “Oh fu—”

  Hunter pulls his hand away, letting his fingers drag quickly over my clit. My body jolts but I don’t come, and then I’m just sitting there, mouth open, staring at him. He’s grinning.

  “What the fuck?” I ask, trying to catch my breath. “Go back, I didn’t finish.”

  “I also missed how bossy you are when you’re horny,” he says.

  I take my hand off his cock, but Hunter just grabs me by the hips and rocks me against his naked erection. I move slow, my legs wrapped around him, our foreheads touching.

  “You like torturing me?” I murmur.

  “Yes,” he says.

  “Jerk,” I whisper. “You promised me a ride, you know, and dry humping is getting old real fast.”

  “Where’s the romance, Clem?” he teases. “A guy can’t have a little foreplay?”

  I reach down between my legs and stick a couple fingers inside myself. Then I pull them out and smear my hand down Hunter’s cock, stroking him hard and fast as we kiss again.

  Suddenly he puts his hand over mine and holds it still. He takes his lips off mine and nuzzles my neck slowly, his shaft throbbing in my hand. Then he scoots off the cot and leaves me sitting there, legs akimbo, trying to catch my breath.

  “Get these off,” he says, leaning over me and snapping the waistband of my leggings.

  I lift my hips, watching Hunter watch me. It’s hard to take leggings off and look sexy. I don’t think I make it work, but he strips too, never taking his eyes from me.

  Then he turns and rummages through his pack for a moment. I touch myself, leaning against the window, waiting for him to turn around. When he does, I see the dim flash of a foil package in his hand, and then he’s unrolling something onto his cock.

  Right. A condom. Duh. I’m on the pill, but Hey, when did you last get tested? is kind of a boner-killer.

  I just watch him unroll it onto himself, a big hand on a big cock, his torso tensing and flexing as he strokes himself a few times before looking up at me. I’m still touching myself, sliding my fingers up and down between my lips, across my clit.

  “I like how dirty you got,” he says.

  I raise my eyebrows.

  “This is dirty?” I ask, pushing two fingers inside myself.

  “It’s a start,” he teases, and then he’s on the bed, kneeling between my legs. He grabs my hand and sticks my fingers into his mouth, sucking them slowly.

  He never did that before either, but it’s fucking hot.

  Hunter grabs me and then scoots me sideways, dragging me until my back is against the solid wood window frame instead of the pane. He pushes me up against it, his cock against my lower belly, his lips on my neck, biting my collarbone.

  I cannot fucking wait any longer, and I arch my back and lift myself until the tip of his cock is at my entrance. I’m practically vibrating with anticipation, but I force myself to go slow, because it’s been a while since I was with anyone this.... endowed.

  About eight years, actually.

  And Jesus, I’d almost forgotten what it feels like. My
body practically goes limp as I lower myself onto Hunter’s cock, my eyes sliding closed, my head back against the wall of the lookout tower. I hear someone moan and it takes me a second to realize it’s me.

  “Oh my fucking God, Clem, Jesus,” Hunter whispers, his head on my shoulder, his fingers sinking hard into my hips. “I swear I almost just fucking came watching you sit on my cock like that.”

  I grab his shoulders in my hands and move my hips, just enough to slide him out a little before taking him again, and I exhale hard as pleasure sparks through my brain.

  Hunter groans and thrusts just enough that our hips come flush with a light slap. I make a noise I barely recognize as human, and Hunter pulls back, gently.

  “That was a good noise, right?” he asks, his voice low and dusky.

  I just nod, swallowing hard.

  “Do it again,” I say.

  He does, and this time when he drives himself deep I arch myself into him and he hits every pleasure center I have. White spots dance in front of my eyes, and I feel like all my bones might be melting.

  “There it is,” Hunter growls.

  He does it again and again, slowly pushing me harder and harder into the window frame, fucking me as I arch into him.

  “There’s what?” I ask, my voice barely a whisper.

  “The spot that makes you come like a freight train,” he says.

  Then he drives himself home again, but this time he grabs me and keeps me there, shifting my hips back and forth with his hands, filling me with his cock and just moving inside me.

  “Oh, fuck, Hunter,” I whimper. I’ve got one hand in his hair and one grabbing his shoulder as hard as I can. “That feels so fucking good, don’t stop don’t you dare fucking stop...”

  I come like a freight train. For a moment the darkness explodes around me and then it’s just the two of us, rocking back and forth in sheer bliss. I’m coming so hard I’m just gasping and whimpering, bolt after bolt of pure pleasure rocketing through me.

  Hunter’s saying something. I’m drifting back down to earth, feeling almost hazy, like I’m barely in my own body, but I’ve still got my legs wrapped around him and I realize we’re fucking hard again, my back against the wall, leftover pleasure jolting through me with every stroke.

  “—so fucking good when you come that hard,” he’s saying.

  “You’re the one who made me come like that,” I murmur into his ear, rolling my hips against him. “I almost forgot how much I like it when you fuck me hard.”

  Hunter thrusts as hard as he can. He growls and bites my shoulder as his cock throbs inside me and we rock together like somehow he can get deeper.

  I think he might come forever. I think he might break the skin on my shoulder, and it hurts a little but in a strange way I don’t mind. I kind of like that I just made him come this hard.

  Finally, he stops. He takes his mouth off me, then kisses the spot where he bit me and leans his head against my neck. Every couple of seconds he kisses the hollow of my throat, then nuzzles me again, and I wind my hands through his hair.

  We breathe hard, like we’re sharing one set of lungs. After a long time, Hunter takes a deep breath and finally speaks.

  “I don’t think I can move,” he says.

  “Have you tried?” I ask, stroking his hair.

  “I just don’t think it’s gonna work,” he says, his lips against my neck. “I came too hard.”

  I laugh, because it tickles.

  “Well, I’m trapped until you move, and I’ve got shit to do, so you should probably give it a shot,” I say.

  “What shit do you have to do?”

  “I have to look for forest fires, for starters.”

  “Not now you don’t,” he says. “It’s dark.”

  “Just give it a shot,” I say. “I believe in you.”

  He sighs. Then he grumbles.

  Then, before I know what’s happening, we’re both falling over sideways onto the tiny Forest Service cot, and I yelp as we bounce.

  “Thanks for believing in me,” he says, laughing.

  I wriggle further down on the bed until we’re face-to-face, and I give him a long, slow kiss. He takes my hand in his and curls our fingers together.

  We stay that way for a long time. At first I wonder if I should say something, but I have no idea what. Besides, I’m out of words, and all I want right now is to be here, with Hunter in my bed and no one else around for miles and miles.

  16

  Hunter

  We lie there for a long, long time. My mind is almost perfectly blank, just a navy-blue haze of happiness and warmth that matches the darkness around us. Clementine’s hand is in mine. Our legs are intertwined. I can feel her breathe.

  I just have one small latex problem, and after a while, I can’t ignore it any more. I sigh.

  “So... there’s no bathroom up here,” I say.

  “There’s an outhouse on the ground,” she says without opening her eyes.

  I gather all my will, release her hand, and sit up on the cot. Then I stand.

  I seem to be managing this okay.

  “Be right back,” I say, walking for the door, still completely naked. Who’s gonna see me, raccoons?

  “Don’t throw the condom in there,” she says, looking over at me.

  I look down at my now-flaccid dick, the used condom drooping sadly off of it.

  “Where do I put it?” I ask. My brain is still working half-speed, and I look around the lookout tower, vaguely wondering if it goes down the sink or something.

  Clementine just starts laughing and rolls onto her back, still totally naked in the dark.

  “I thought you spent six months a year camping in the wilderness,” she says. “What do you do with anything?”

  I look down again and sigh.

  “Right,” I say. “Leave no trace.”

  “There should be ziploc bags in one of the cabinets,” she says, still laughing.

  I find them, then take off the used condom, tie a knot in it, and deposit it in the baggie, sealing it. The moon has circled the sky and come around to the north-facing windows, and now it’s cutting bright white shapes across the room.

  “You look like you’re in a movie where Humphrey Bogart plays a detective, except you’re holding a baggie with an old condom,” Clementine volunteers.

  “And I need to pee.”

  “Even really good private investigators have to pee sometimes,” she reassures me, her voice lazy but teasing. “They just don’t show it in the movies.”

  I look over at her. The moonlight is just above her head, and she’s flopped one hand up and into it, the rest of her still dark. I drop the baggie on the floor near my backpack, then lean over and kiss Clementine.

  “Take a flashlight,” she says.

  I shove my feet into hiking boots and head down. The moon is bright enough that I don’t need the flashlight, but I’m glad I brought it. When I finish my business, Clementine is there, waiting fifty feet away, looking up at the stars.

  Fuck, she’s beautiful. Especially like this, naked except boots and careless in the middle of nowhere, laughing and relaxed and not giving a shit.

  “Did you hop down the stairs?” I ask, frowning.

  “My ankle’s not that bad anymore,” she says. “It hurts a little, but honestly, I think it’s fine.”

  “It’s because I fixed it with my dick,” I say, walking toward her.

  “I don’t think your dick even touched my ankle,” she says.

  “Close enough,” I say. “You have any other ailments, come to me. I’ll fix you right up.”

  Clementine laughs. I kiss her as I walk past, heading back to the lookout tower so she can use the outhouse.

  As I walk away, she smacks my ass. Then she laughs.

  Back in the tower, I go ahead and get our sleeping bags out of our packs and spread them on the two cots. Then I flop on the one where we just had sex and stare out the window.

  I know this is the easy part. Bei
ng alone together for a night, with nothing and no one else to complicate things? It’s a piece of fucking cake.

  It’s when we get back, to Clementine’s divorcing parents and me fighting fires for weeks on end, to the real world where shit happens. That’s the hard part.

  Everything she said in that bathroom was true. I was flirting with Mandy, not because I particularly like her, but because it’s habit. Two days after asking Clementine if she wanted to try again, I had another girl on my shoulders, giggling.

  I’m also afraid I know how this ends. And I don’t want to be stupid, but when I’m with Clementine — when we’re hiking nine miles or, hell, when I’m talking to a group of old ladies and trying to get out of it — it feels right, like there’s no other way I could imagine being. Like puzzle pieces that fit together.

  I hear Clementine coming up the stairs in her heavy hiking boots, and then the door opens.

  “Bleh,” she says, and goes to the basin to wash her hands.

  “Isn’t this your job?” I ask.

  “Peeing in outhouses?” she says.

  “Peeing outdoors.”

  She shakes her hands, looks around, then finds her shirt and dries them there.

  “My job is actually trail marking, trail maintenance, setting up wildlife cameras, surveying, and that sort of thing,” she says, and walks over to me, flopping next to me on the cot. “The peeing outdoors is incidental. Scoot over.”

  “I can’t,” I say. “I’m already up against the glass.”

  Clementine solves the problem by getting half on top of me, her right arm flopped over my chest, her head on my shoulder.

  “These things are too small,” she says sleepily.

  I stroke my fingers up and down her back. Her body against mine like this makes my dick twitch, but I hiked nine miles with seventy pounds on my back. I don’t think I can move anything else. Round two is gonna have to wait.

  “It’s almost like they’re not made for two people,” I say.

  “Smartass,” she mutters.

  “You wouldn’t like me if I wasn’t.”

  “You mean if you were a nice person who didn’t tease me all the time?” she asks, tilting her face up.