Torch

by Roxie Noir

  I groan again and she pulls back, looking up at me, her lips still on the tip.

  It’s beyond hot, and she keeps looking at me as she lowers her mouth onto my cock, her lips sliding further down my shaft, her tongue flat against the underside.

  “Jesus, Clem,” I say, my breath coming in gasps.

  She goes slow, taking me deeper little by little, driving me absolutely fucking crazy. I’m pretty sure the forest could burn down around me right now, and as long as Clem didn’t take my cock out of her mouth, I wouldn’t care or even notice.

  Finally, I can feel myself hit the back of her mouth, and it’s tight and wet as she swallows, the muscles moving against the tip. I’m still watching her, and she looks up at me again.

  “You’re so fucking sexy with my cock in your mouth,” I say, the words spilling out of me without my brain’s permission. She bobs again, and I gasp, right at the edge of coming.

  Then Clementine pulls her mouth off me for a moment and swallows, her hand still stroking me.

  “Good,” she says, her eyes sparking. “Because I like making you come this way.”

  She sucks the head back into her mouth, and I nearly shout as she swirls her tongue around, and then she’s moving up and down again, her lips going down my shaft until I hit the back of her mouth.

  I’ve got one hand gently on her head, because I can’t fucking stop myself. I’m panting for breath, up on one elbow so I can watch as my cock disappears into her mouth, over and over until I’m at the brink again.

  “Clem, I’m gonna come,” I gasp, warning her because I’m a goddamn gentleman. “Oh fuck I’m gonna come.”

  She pushes her mouth down one more time and I just fucking explode. Her tongue presses against my shaft as she swallows, again and again, and my entire body jolts with the sheer pleasure of it. I’m completely and utterly at her mercy, coming my brains out in the middle of the forest, and I wouldn’t fucking trade it for anything.

  I flop back onto the rock and Clementine takes her mouth off me, then sits back on her heels and wipes her mouth with one hand.

  “Holy fuck,” I say, trying to catch my breath, and Clementine laughs.

  “Talking about male strippers got me all riled up,” she says.

  I take a deep breath and sit up, grabbing her around the waist as I pull her to me, kissing her hard. She’s still straddling my legs, and I swear to God I can smell how turned on she is right now.

  “Really?” I ask.

  “Nah,” she says, wrapping her fingers around the back of my head. “It was because you were naked and I like your dick.”

  I slide my hand between her legs and she makes a noise into my mouth, because even if I can’t get it up right now — and I cannot — I still fucking love to touch her.

  19

  Clementine

  Now I really feel eighteen again, because I’m naked in public and horny as hell. Hunter’s kissing me so hard that he’s pushing me backward, his tongue deep in my mouth as he slides his fingers around my clit, pinching it gently.

  “I probably taste like jizz,” I whisper when I pull back.

  “Yup,” he says. “And when you kiss me in a few minutes I’m gonna taste like pussy.”

  I laugh and he kisses me again, one arm around my waist, his other hand rubbing me in slow circles. He’s the only person I’ve ever talked to like this, in this perfectly candid, honest, I-like-your-dick way.

  I think it’s because we did a lot of experimenting without a lot of time when we were teenagers, so any shyness about saying things like, “a little to the left and lick faster,” was pushed aside in favor of more orgasms.

  It doesn’t even feel dirty. It’s hot, and it turns me on like crazy, but it just feels honest and normal.

  He pulls his hand out from between my legs, and then before I know it, he’s rolling both of us over onto the rock and I’m on my back, facing the sky, Hunter between my legs as he kisses the hollow of my throat.

  He sucks one nipple into his mouth and flicks his tongue across it. I groan in appreciation, and he does it again, to the other one. He keeps pinching them as his lips move to my stomach, and he looks up at me.

  I try not to giggle, because it tickles, and he pushes my thighs apart, running his fingers along the sensitive inside as I squirm. Then I feel his face there, too, sucking gently on the soft skin.

  “Hey,” I say, laughing. “No hickies.”

  “How am I supposed to keep track of how many times I’ve eaten you out?” he says, his voice buzzing, his lips almost brushing up against me.

  I suck in a breath.

  “Day planner?” I say.

  He used to give me a hickey on my inner thigh every time he ate me out, and sometimes I would have seven or eight at once. I thought it was hot until I went to a waterpark with my family.

  Hunter laughs, and then his tongue swipes hard across my clit.

  I make a noise somewhere between a grunt and a moan, clenching my fists at my sides. He licks me hard again, his tongue flat but curling and really, I don’t know what he’s doing exactly but Jesus he’s good at it.

  He keeps going, moving his tongue fast and hard and exactly the right way to make me moan my face off, and I’m moments from coming when suddenly his tongue stops. He pauses. I’m holding my breath.

  Then he licks me in a slow circle, around my clit, pushing his tongue between my lips and back up. He licks me everywhere but my clit, and I want to scream in frustration.

  “Tease,” I gasp.

  His tongue makes another slow circle, and I swear I whimper, willing my body to climax somehow, even if he refuses to touch me right, but then he’s licking me again slow and hard.

  “God yes,” I whisper, and then I come like I’m falling over a cliff, moaning, my eyes closed and my back arching.

  Hunter doesn’t stop. Even when each lap of his tongue makes my whole body jolt, he doesn’t stop, and I put my hands in his hair, breathless.

  “That was it,” I say.

  “You mean that was one,” he says, grinning.

  Then he shifts position slightly and his fingers slide inside me, bending at exactly the right spot.

  I think I grunt, but then Hunter has his mouth back on me and I think he’s sucking gently on my clit, just barely caressing it with his tongue as he does. His fingers rub the spot inside me, and God, he’s relentless.

  In no time at all I’m coming again and I’m whispering fuck, Hunter, fuck over and over again because my mind’s pretty much gone blank.

  This time he stops, and it’s a good thing because I don’t know how much more I can handle. He rests his head on my hip and I run my hand through his hair, taking a deep breath, because I feel like the shock of my climax is still rattling through me.

  “I think I could eat you out all day,” he says, his thumb stroking my lower belly. He almost sounds sleepy, and I wonder what would happen if we just fell asleep here.

  Probably sunburn and bears, but it’s a nice thought.

  “Your jaw would get sore,” I say.

  “I’d have to work up to it,” he says. “Like a marathon. You don’t just run a marathon, first you run two miles, then five, then twenty.”

  I sit up, cross-legged, and he pushes himself up to kiss me.

  “Told you I’d taste like pussy,” he says.

  “Gross,” I say, and kiss him again, this time with tongue.

  After a while we quit making out and just lie there, on the rock, like giant satiated lizards or something. I keep having the urge to say dumb things to him, like I love you or move to Lodgepole or let’s get married or how many kids do you want?

  I know it’s just because of those chemicals the brain releases after sex, but it surprises me how solid those dumb things feel.

  Try waiting until you’ve dated for a whole week before you start naming your kids, maybe?

  Ridiculous.

  I’m still lying there, my head on Hunter’s chest, when he suddenly jerks to half-sitting, and
I slide off. He’s looking upward, and after a second, I follow his gaze to the column of smoke.

  We both stare for a long, long time.

  “It’s bigger,” I finally say.

  “Yeah,” he says.

  Another pause.

  “Shit,” he says, and stands.

  For the first time since we got to the waterfall I feel naked, and I look around, wondering if someone else arrived while we were half-dozing, but there’s no one around. It’s just us and the column of smoke above, not much bigger but definitely bigger.

  Neither of us says anything as we get dressed again, put on our packs and our shoes, and head away from the waterfall. Before we leave, I take a pebble from the side of the pool, then look back over my shoulder as we leave, wishing I’d brought a camera. It really is a beautiful place.

  Hunter goes first down the boulder scramble, saying that if I fall he can probably catch me while the reverse isn’t true. I think he’s right, and even though I go on boulder scrambles all the time and don’t fall, I don’t argue with him.

  For now, at least, his protective concern is sweet, though it’ll probably get on my nerves in a couple months.

  I hope this lasts long enough for me to get annoyed, I think, just as my foot sends a shower of pebbles down the slope.

  Hunter stops and looks back at me.

  “I’m fine,” I say, and he nods.

  It’s late afternoon by the time we get back to the lookout, and we’re mostly quiet the whole way back, glancing at the smoke every so often. My brain has started blossoming with worry, from what if it gets to the lookout before we can leave to what if Hunter has to hike in there to fight it?

  It’s a tricky hike on a sunny day, in perfect conditions. Forget carrying heavy equipment in a smoke-filled canyon.

  The moment we get back, I call it in to Mike. We talk for a while. Then Randy’s in his office, and they’re trying to share a radio, and it’s kind of a shit show but the three of us discuss the fire for a while.

  Randy’s still sure it’ll burn itself out, even though he admits that he can see the column now, though only if he uses binoculars. Mike’s found a map of towns and settlements in the area, and after a while, the conversation devolves into Randy insisting that it’s nothing to get excited about, and Mike just repeating how far various points of civilization are from the fire.

  I think they’re driving Hunter crazy, so he goes outside for a while. Hell, they’re driving me crazy, but this is my job so I can’t leave. When he gets back, they’re still doing the exact same thing, but it’s not like I can hang up on my boss so I’ve just got my head down on the kitchen table, listening to Mike tell Randy that Eaglevale is only fifty miles from the current fire, and with the right conditions and bad luck, it could be there tomorrow.

  “But it’s not the right conditions,” Randy is saying.

  Hunter comes up behind me and puts his hands on my shoulders, massaging the tense muscles there. I let Mike and Randy argue as I lean back into him, his thumbs rubbing small, hard circles up and down my neck.

  “They still at it?” he murmurs into my ear.

  “Yeah,” I say, sighing. “I just want to know whether we need to leave now, or in the morning, and whether...”

  I stop talking, because I’m about to say whether you’re gonna have to go fight this thing, but even if he doesn’t go to this one, he’s going somewhere, and I get to worry about that.

  “Whether what?” he asks.

  I swallow.

  “Whether you’re gonna have to hike in there and fight this thing,” I say. “It’s dangerous.”

  “It’s always dangerous,” he points out.

  I want to say yes, I know, but I never had a say in this and I don’t have to like it, but I don’t. Hunter chose this, and he knew what he was getting himself into, and that decision had nothing to do with me. I can take it or leave it, but I can’t start a fight about it.

  I close my eyes and take a deep breath.

  Take it, I think.

  “I know,” I say, and look up at him. “Sorry.”

  He leans down and kisses the top of my head.

  “I practically pitched a fit when you climbed on some rocks today,” he says. “It’s okay if you worry about me.”

  “McKinnon, come in,” Mike’s annoyed voice is saying. I grab the radio and press the button.

  “Yes?” I say.

  There’s a long, dramatic sigh.

  “Hike back tomorrow,” he says. “We’ve requested air surveillance for this thing, so we’ll have eyes a lot closer in case it breaks bad.”

  Hunter and I look at each other. I was secretly hoping for another day here, just hanging out and fucking a lot, but this extra day was pretty good.

  “Roger that, boss,” I say.

  “Great. See you then. Over and out.”

  “Over and out,” I say, then put the radio on the table and tilt my head up at Hunter.

  “The professionals are coming—”

  The radio sounds again, and Mike’s voice comes through.

  “McKinnon, are you there? I forgot something.”

  “What is it?” I ask.

  “If this fire becomes a problem, tradition dictates that you get to name it,” he says.

  “I do?”

  “You found it,” he says. “I recommend not naming it after yourself, in case it kills someone.”

  A quick shudder runs down my spine.

  “Thanks,” I say.

  “Think about it,” he says. “And hope you don’t get to name it.”

  “Roger that,” I say.

  20

  Hunter

  We make dinner, more freeze-dried backpacking meals in bags, and eat at the tiny table. We talk, but not about anything important: whether the winter’s going to be cold or mild, what the best and cheapest place to go skiing is. I ask about Trout, and Clementine ends up telling me funny dog stories for fifteen minutes, until she clears away the dishes.

  I go look at the fire as twilight gathers. Last night we couldn’t see the smoke after dark, but tonight, there’s a distinctive glow, bouncing off the granite Spires, giving them a hellish glimmer.

  But I’m not thinking about the fire. I’m thinking about earlier today, at the waterfall, and I’m thinking about how she called me her boyfriend. I’m thinking about whether it’s too late to get a ranch job in Lodgepole for the winter, because having three hours between us feels like too much.

  You might be rushing things, I think, but I’m honestly not sure.

  Since we broke up I’ve had a couple dozen one night stands and a few casual girlfriends, and they were nice enough, but I never felt the magnetic pull that Clementine exerts on me. I never wanted to move in and adopt their dogs or argue over which couch to buy or fall asleep listening to them breathe.

  I don’t know what normal is. I used to blame Clementine for that, like she’d broken my heart so hard it ruined me, but if I couldn’t get over her in eight years I think it was my problem, not hers.

  The fire’s an afterthought. She’s worried, but this is pretty routine for me. We go out, we dig some breaks, we do some controlled burns. If things get really crazy we might be fighting some actual flames, but they rarely do.

  “There’s a couple board games up here when I finish the dishes,” Clementine suggests from the sink. “Want to play Monopoly with half the pieces missing?”

  “How about cards?” I ask.

  She laughs.

  “What, are we retirees?” she asks, looking at me over her shoulder.

  “Your suggestion was Monopoly,” I point out, leaning against a table. “No one has ever had fun playing that game. Ever. In the history of the world.”

  “Maybe we could just sit in the dark and stare at each other,” she teases.

  I walk over and smack her lightly on the ass. She’s got the leggings back on, so it makes a satisfying noise and I get to watch it jiggle just a little.

  I want to do it again, but
I’m wearing the comfy lounge pants, and these pants keep no secrets. Clementine seems stressed about the fire, and I can be better than hey-you’re-having-feelings-whoops-here’s-my-dick guy. Especially because that itch already got scratched once today.

  “That’s not a response,” she says.

  “Sure it is,” I tell her. “It’s the best response.”

  She rolls her eyes and I grin.

  I volunteer to take the wash basin down and dump it out. When I get back to the lookout, Clementine is standing on the wraparound balcony, leaning against the rail, looking at the glow of the fire.

  “This isn’t Monopoly,” I say, leaning against the railing next to her.

  “It’s not?” she says, glancing at me sideways.

  “I know they’re easy to confuse,” I say.

  We stand there another moment. The night has just started to cool down, and there’s a nice, refreshing breeze coming in across the tops of the trees. Really, it’s just a bonus that it makes Clementine’s nipples stiffen through her shirt even more.

  “Sorry,” she finally says, and looks over at me. “I always get antsy the last day of a trip.”

  “A work trip, you mean?”

  She shrugs.

  “Vacation too, actually,” she admits. “I start thinking about all the stuff I need to do that I haven’t done because I’ve been gone, and then all the stuff that I didn’t finish before I left, and...”

  She looks over at me and laughs.

  “You get the idea,” she says. “If this spreads east, toward the valley, it’ll be a logistical nightmare at the very least.”

  I put one hand on her back and rub in slow circles. She arches a little as I do, and I glance at her ass in the leggings.

  Then I try to will my dick back down as I wonder why the fuck I brought these pants on this trip.

  “You can’t do anything about that right now, though,” I point out.

  She just smiles.

  “Like knowing that helps,” she says, then moves over, bumping her side against mine. “Don’t worry, I know I can’t do anything about it right now.”