Sipping on Fire

All the characters involved in sexual activity in this story are over eighteen. Trigger warning: there's a little bit of reluctance involved. This is my first, so please try to be gentle. Don't be too soft though, I like things a little hard.

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"Someone help me."

The desperate cry pierced the night. I had been pulling back my coverlet, about to climb into bed. Now I stopped and listened.

"Is there anyone in there?"

I realized the person calling could see my house and would eventually find their way here. I was dressed in only light sleeping clothes, but they would have to do.

I felt for the lock in the dim light. I could see through the window that my summoner bore a torch, and the desperation I'd heard in the person's voice told me I had no time to light one. Finally, I found the lock, and turned the key, thanking Tosàn I'd left the key in the lock. Taking a deep breath, I stepped out into the night.

It was a cold and breezy one. The chill was worsened by the insubstantal clothes I wore. The moon was full and shining brightly. Now that I was outside, it provided enough light for me to see the path that led to the person calling. The winds carried the clay-and-smoke taste of the Harmattan. The chirping of crickets filled the air, and dry leaves crunched underfoot as I walked. The sparse forest that surrounded my house seemed slightly foreboding, and I walked quickly towards the light in the distance.

The call came again, low and desperate.

"Hurry, please."

It meant the person could see me and knew I was coming.

I couldn't tell the sex of the speaker. Something in the voice made me break into a run, the leaves complaining loudly beneath me. I came to a stop within the circle of light, then bent over, gasping slightly. After a few seconds, I looked up and registered that the caller carried not a torch, but a ball of light. I stepped closer to take a closer look at the person, then noticed the man on the floor.

All thoughts of the light forgotten, I dropped to my knees to take a closer look at him. Even though he was obviously hurt, he was breathtaking. His face was a study in light and shadow, with a strong jaw and sinfully long lashes. His eyes were warm chocolate and molten gold - Mage eyes, they were called. The Perceptive in me could feel the power pouring off him in waves, even as my Healer pegged that he'd been poisoned. His hair was straight and jet black, barely brushing the tips of his ears.He was big; tall with lean, hard, muscular arms.

"We need to get him to my house," I said urgently to his companion, who had been kneeling, bent over, beside him. The person stood, and even in the light from the ball that floated over our heads, I could not tell if the person was male or female. On closer inspection, I was certain the person was male.

He was almost as tall as his wounded friend, with pale, almost white hair that hung to the nape of his neck. His face was heart shaped and narrow jawed, his nose celestial. His skin was the colour of black ash; coal with gray undertones.

He nodded wearily, lips tightly pursed in a troubled face. His pale blue eyes were dull with exhaustion. He stood with an effort, then spread his arms out, palms up. He raised his arms slowly, and the unconscious man began to rise. I looked at the sphere of fire above us, obviously the work of a fire Elemental, then at the levitated man that was now floating at my chest level.

Only Elementals and mages could levitate people wordlessly, as he had just done. This man was a Dual Elemental, or Duo for short. It was common knowledge that people who controlled more than one element were to be mistrusted, and I wondered if I was doing the right thing by inviting these people into my house. I looked at the injured man again, and all hesitation fled.

"This way," I told him, and jogged ahead briskly. I got to the door first, though the man was not far behind. I had just enough time to pull the covers off my bed, which I'd been about to climb into before the call came. The ball of light floated in first, lighting up the house, closely followed by the unconscious man. The elemental strode in last. My house was slightly bigger than a cottage, but it looked better on the inside.

I had an affinity for pretty things, so I'd filled the house with paintings, pottery and needlework given to me by grateful villagers I had helped. I'd taken care not to make the house look too cluttered. The effect was nice and homely.

The stranger was not in the mood to appreciate his surroundings. He directed the levitated man over to the bed and set him down. He snapped his fingers and the ball of light broke up into a million fragments. They swirled around the house, lighting every lamp I possessed, then disappeared.

He turned to me and said desperately,

"Can you help him?"

"What poison was used?" I asked, striding around the room. I pulled tiny bottles and bags out of different cupboards and set them down on the table near the bed.

"I do not know. It came as shards of black ice that melted into his skin. There was no residue for me to examine."

I sighed inwardly. So this was one of those. Healing unidentifiable maladies was a very draining and personal process; one that I was not so sure I wanted to embark on. Poisons were even worse. The man looked almost too far gone. I would have to pull him back from the brink of death, a very tasking and risky process. The was no guarantee that I would be able to cure him. Most importantly, I needed to make my price clear.

"Listen," I said sharply, already making a mental list of the things I would need, "I don't know who you are, or what helping you is going to cost me. What you're asking me to do is not easy, and when I finish, I will demand payment. I will also want answers to the numerous questions I have."

I stared into the unreadable blue eyes, and said with more certainty than I felt.

"You will give them to me."

The man nodded once.

"I need lovage, franckincense, mallow, birthwort and mulberry bark. Get me the best amethysts and emeralds you can find. I'll also need myrrh, natron and asafetida. If you have a power source; grimoire, amulet, anything, It'll be very helpful."

He reached around his neck and took off a necklace. It had a standard protection pendant hanging from it. The chain was spelled silver. It was nothing special, but it would have to do. I wore it around my neck, feeling the power throb in it.

"Thank you," I said

The man turned and started for the door.

"Wait," I called out, "You'll need this."

I picked up a little crystal bottle from a table as I spoke and opened it, then took the small blade beside it. Gritting my teeth, I made a small cut on my palm and let a few drops of blood fall into it.

"You'll find the herbs and stones in a shed a few steps behind this house. They're labelled, so you'll have no trouble identifying them."

I stoppered the bottle, then brought out a ball of warped, twisted metal with strange, web-like designs etched on it. I handed it and the bottle to him. He looked at a loss for what to do with them.

"That's the key to the shed, though you'll find no door at first. Smear a drop of blood on the side facing the house, and a lock will appear. Pour just a drop on that-" I motioned to the strange ball of metal "- and it will become a key. Lock the door once you get in, and the lock will disappear. Repeat the process to come out once you've fetched what I need." He nodded and started swiftly for the door.

"Would it not be quicker for you to fetch the items yourself, since you're more familiar with the contents of the shed? He does not look like he has much time left."

He gestured to his friend, his voice laced with suspicion, and I felt a flash of irritation.

"Because there are some things I need to do here that you cannot."

I snapped. Then I realized he was right to be concerned for his friend. For a split second, I wondered about their relationship, and felt a startling twinge of envy when I realized they might be lovers.

"Don't worry, I'll keep him alive till you get here," I said in a gentler tone, "Just make sure you're careful. The contents of that shed are both immensely valuable and extremely dangerous."

He nodded and left quickly. Once the door closed behind him, I locked it with a key from my pocket and hurried towards the other man.

He had grown disturbingly grey, and his veins were black under his skin, contrasting starkly with his pale flesh. His breaths were slow and laboured, with enough space between each one for me to know he would not be long for this world at this rate.

Healing the man was going to require a spell of a personal nature before I could use the items I'd demanded, and I needed to be done with it before his friend returned, or worse; before he expired.

Taking a deep breath, I stripped of his clothes carefully, trying to ignore the hot, bronzed skin that had my cock stirring in my pants , the sculpted, mouth-watering muscles, the cock that was impressive even when flaccid.

I dropped his clothes on a wicker chair that stood at the foot of the bed, removed mine hastily, and dropped them on top of his. I located a bottle of hemlock from the things I'd collected when I'd first come in, placed it carefully beside his head, then climbed on top of him.

It would be a waste of time to try and prevent my cock from getting hard; he was a particularly attractive man, and my body could not help but react. I began to stiffen the second I made contact with his feverish skin, and by the time I'd managed to line myself up face to face; chest to chest; thigh to thigh with him, I was rock hard and rampant. It was an indignity I'd have to endure, and one of the reasons I had sent his friend out before beginning.

Since I did not know the poison that was used, I could not prepare an antidote. To heal him, I had to get as close to death as he was, weld his essence to mine, and bring us both fully back to life, drawing from the wealth of power I knew he possessed. It was not ressurection, but it was very close. Few healers alive could undertake such a healing and live.

I had known for a long time my skills were far above average, but in a quiet little village like Drier, I did not have much chance to really test their limits. People with my skills usually went to big cities like Zelios and Travesh, or even Edenham to try and make their fortunes. I was perfectly comfortable where I was.

I reached towards his head - taking great care not to disturb our alignment - picked up the bottle of hemlock, and drained it. I pressed my lips to his and waited for death.

As painful tremors wracked my body and the darkness began to creep in, I shut out the physical. The light; the chirping of the crickets; everything receded, and we were the only beings in existence.

I listened to the abnormally slow pounding of his heart and stilled mine till out hearts beat as one; a single rhythm in the darkness. I sped up my breathing to match his, and as my essence caught and held his, the poison spread and our breathing began to slow.

I let us slide towards the abyss of death that gaped below us, and just as we were about to plummet towards oblivion, I dug in with our magic. I could sense his etheric presence wrapped around mine, but he was still too weak for his essence to be more than a source of power for me.

I began to climb back towards the light that was life, drawing out the poison and dispersing it into the ether of death as I moved. The darkness in the abyss called to it, and it answered, leaving us and heading towards the void.

As I drew from the mage's power, I realized with a sinking feeling that this was no schooled mage. His power, now it had been freed from the bonds of poison, felt too raw and wild. I could tell he'd undergone some training, but it was not nearly enough to subdue the innate wildness of his power.

I climbed with a sense of foreboding and dread. Wild mages were dangerous people to bond with, even for a few moments. The fact that I was a healer with little knowledge of defensive magic made my situation even more dire.

He could come out of his unnatural sleep and turn me and my house to ash before he even realized where he was. As I stepped back into the light and let the physical realm pour in, I sent a fervent prayer to Tosàn that I'd live to tell this tale.

I opened my eyes, forced down the nausea and dizziness that accompanied healings of such intensity, and scrambled to get off him. I'd barely sat up when his strong hands came up and grasped my waist. "Mother of the dark," I whispered, "Please protect me." I cursed his companion for not warning me he was Wild.

The gold in the brown of his irises had spread, turning his eyes a solid, terrifyingly beautiful aureate. An unholy light seem to shine out from them, drawing me in.

I was sitting across his thighs, and his hands held me firmly, thwarting any hopes of wriggling out of his grasp. His cock was fully erect. It was an impressive specimen, long and thick, with veins running through it. As I stared at it, I remembered a vital fact about wild mages that I could use to my favor.

Lyn Krazos, my old teacher, had taught his students that wild mages usually channelled their power in one of two directions: sex or violence. In 1366 E.R, A certain socerer called Razak Damuel had come up with a law so scandalous and controversial that he had been dragged before the Court of Public Virtue on charges of Gross Indecency. Although he had successfully and logically proven the theory that several centuries later would come to be called Razak's Rule or the Fight-or-Fuck Principle, he had been ordered to live out the rest of his life in seclusion on a lonely island, where he would have no minds to corrupt.

Three hundred years later, a brilliant member of the Magisterium Malefica had dug up the rule and presented it to a more tolerant society, and it had completely revolutionalized defensive magic.

I vividly remembered the lesson. After he'd explained to us the history of the rule, he'd made his way around the classroom, hands clenched into fists, shouting maniacally, as he was wont to do.

"It is fight or fuck, students! When it comes to Wild mages, those are your only options! Flight is futile, for they will destroy you in a heart beat, mark my words! You think all the damsels in your stories won the monsters with their beauty?"

He'd cackled at our astonishment, then continued, "Wild creatures are reduced to their basest desires; killing and mating. If you cannot fight them, you will need to fuck them. At the very least, you must make them believe you mean to, until you can be rescued by an equally powerful being. This is not practicable with monsters, but with Wild mages and some woodland folk, this is the only choice you have. Remember this, students."

I hoped I would be able to distract him successfully enough. If I was honest with myself, I had found him attractive enough at first sight that fucking him seemed far from distasteful. On the contrary, I felt myself harden just thinking about what I was about to do.

I spat copiously into my hands, then reached down and wrapped them around his cock, fully aware that the feel of his hands restraining me was making my cock leak precum. I was so hard it was almost painful.

I was no stranger to stroking cock; by eleven, I'd already been certain I preferred boys to girls, and my healer's hands had been infamous among the few people that shared my inclination in Drier. I'd gotten quite a few clandestine meetings under my belt before I'd left the heart of the village for the cottage on its outskirts.

My movements were sure and firm; I hoped by bringing him off, I could also bring him around. I stroked the angry red head with my thumb once and his body jerked to life like a necromancer's project.

He took my hands off him and flipped me over in a single move too quick to see and, holding my body down with his, he ran his hands over me slowly and sensually. He glanced down at me with eyes still that otherworldly shade of gold and I almost came.

He ghosted his fingers down my neck, lightly stroking the sensitive spot where my neck met my shoulders until I was whining in desperation and thrusting my hips up desperately.

His hands moved down to my nipples and he scraped his nails across them, sending delicious prickles of pain running through me. He rolled them between his fingers and pinched them firmly, eliciting a gasp from me. I began to writhe in agony and he returned his hands to my hips, restricting my movement again.

His hips began to move, and pleasure flodded my veins as his cock ground against mine. His hands on my hips were deliciously hot, causing a heavenly buzz on my skin that was surely as a result of his magic. Our mingled precome provided lubrication, and I leaked more with each thrust.

He kept up a slow, torturous rhythm, holding me on the edge of climax, and I couldn't stop the low, desperate moan that tore from my throat. He increased he speed at the sound, and I pressed my lips together to stiffle the loud cries that threatened to pour forth. I felt my balls draw up and forced the orgasm down. I did not want to come before he did.

I encircled our cocks with my hands and began to jerk us off, then leaned down and pressed my lips to his. He tasted of wood smoke and dust, a heady, addictive taste. His tongue licked at my lips, demanding entrance into my mouth, and I yielded readily.His tongue slid in, fucking my mouth with slow strokes, driving me even higher.

His thrusts became faster, more erratic, and I could tell he was nearing orgasm. I urged him on with sounds and touch, and when he grunted and stiffened, I gave in to my climax. Waves of pleasure slammed into me again and again, dragging me under; taking me higher, as my seed spurted out of my cock and mingled with his. I jerked in his grasp, yet his hands still held me, anchoring me, till the tide began to ebb, leaving me spent.

After what seemed like eternity, the haze cleared from my eyes, and I gazed down into his. The gold had receded back to a mesmerizing undertone, and his eyes were a warm chocolate-gold again. In them, I saw the last vestiges of arousal, confusion, and a hint of panic, but it was normal panic, not the kind that would cause him to incinerate me with one breath.

I slipped off him and headed for the cupboard where my towels were stored. I picked out two and dampened them with water from a tub that stood in a corner, then tossed one to him. He looked unsure of what to do with it, then he noticed the rapidly drying pool of come on his chest. He coloured slightly, and the sight was a welcome change from the deathly pale of a few moments ago. The hint of gold was there in his skin, and the sheer beauty of it made my breath catch. I turned away to a preserve semblance of dignity for the both of us, then wiped myself down with the towel. I retrieved my clothes from the chair I'd deposited them on and dressed hastily. The heat we'd generated was long gone, and the chilly harmattan wind could give you a nasty cold if you weren't careful. I heard sounds behind me and knew he was getting dressed too.

When I turned back, I realized that my previous assessment of him had not done him justice. Now he no longer looked like a corpse, his handsomeness was much more obvious.

His skin was tanned and golden brown. His bone structure was exquisite but not delicate. He had high, cheekbones and a strong, slightly pointed jaw. His nose was aquiline and his lower lip was slightly fuller than the top one, perfect for nibbling on. Then I looked into his eyes again and my brought my thoughts to heel. He was mostly wary now, and the bright panic had darkened to fear tinged with shrewd calculation. He was looking for a means of escape, just in case I meant to hurt him. This would not do at all.