Distant Fire

Marty stumbled out of his car, swearing up a storm that could put the one currently raging above his head to shame.

What're the odds? he thought. What're the fucking odds?

The bobcat had come out of nowhere. One minute, he'd been cruising through darkness, watching signpost shadows zoom over him like minnows in a current. His lights hadn't been on—of course they hadn't—but he'd still been watching closely.

Then the big cat had been there, on the edge of the gravel road, looking right at him.

And then it was in front of the car.

He hurried over to the site of impact. The signpost had been almost completely ripped from the ground, but not before crunching the car's metal around it. His car might as well have been tinfoil. He stopped swearing.

Marty looked back at the car's trunk. He didn't know why he'd swerved. He wasn't a super nice person. He'd run over human beings and only slowed down to make sure they didn't get back up. The stakes were just as high now as they were then.

It was the way the creature had looked at him.

"Sarah was right," he muttered. "Never should've become a cat owner."

He missed Whiskers. Hopefully the landlord would get her to a nice shelter. Out of his hands now.

He went back to the driver's seat and grabbed a pistol on the floor beside it. If he was gonna have to walk from here, he wasn't going unarmed in the dark. For all he knew, Gangra and her goons were on their way right now. Or watching the road ahead.

Maybe, he reflected, the crash was a good thing. A chance to get off the grid. Or maybe that was just his inner Andy talking.

He missed Andy, too.

Marty pulled out of the car, checking out of habit to make sure the pistol was loaded. No flashlight, of course. That would have required foresight. Instead he was working in nearly pitch-black—

Wait. That wasn't right.

There was light here. He could see his hand clearly. It was lit by a reddish, rusty glow.

He looked up. It was a cloudy dusk, and the only light from above was coming from a single star close to the horizon. That sure as hell wasn't making the glow. The glow seemed to hail from the trees to the left of the road.

Marty was not alone.

He ducked behind the car, cocking his gun. Trouble. Big, bad trouble. He'd screwed up. He crept around the side of the vehicle, peering off between the trees. He didn't remember the trees looking quite so densely packed when he'd been driving.

He watched the glow as it slowly brightened. It flickered just slightly, making him blink. The glow didn't look too harsh, actually. He frowned.

It was a soft, pleasant light. He lowered the gun slightly. He wondered why he'd done so, but that train of thought was derailed as he stood and started walking around the car, towards it.

The light was getting closer. The pistol dropped to his side. He was feeling slightly warm. And...was that music he heard? He rapped his head once. It was gone. Pity. It had been a pretty tune. Like one of those folk songs his uncle loved.

His uncle. Marty blinked. His uncle, who he had to reach if he was going to survive the night. Uncle Shep had people. And he'd always liked Marty. If Marty could get there before Gangra's people got to him—

He raised the gun again. What was wrong with him? The song didn't matter. The strange warmth didn't matter. He just had to let it settle over him, let it calm his nerves, let it...

Marty shook himself slightly, but otherwise stayed very still and waited. The light was getting brighter, but it never hurt to look at. It reminded him of nights spent under the stars. Better times. With Andy.

"Hi."

Marty whirled on the voice. The glow was all around him now. He was surrounded!

There was a single silheouette against the brightness. He squinted. A feminine form. Gangra? That psychotic knifer of hers? He raised the gun.

"Oh." The form giggled, raising a hand to her mouth. The light levels rapidly dropped, and Marty could see...something that explained absolutely nothing.

She was definitely female. That was all that made sense to him. Her skin was dusky red—sort of like how Native Americans were always drawn in Gangra's "vintage" comic books, but with a slightly orangeish tint that matched her brilliant crimson hair well. It had him thinking of sunsets.

Her eyes were balls of fire. He tried not to look at them. They were just a little too large. Not quite alien, but large enough to make her look a little unsettling. And they were filled with flame. Actual, glowing white fire, filling what were otherwise empty pits. Her mouth was slightly large and brought up in a tremendous grin. She seemed rather amused.

The woman's body was slender and lithe. She was totally naked, though it was actually a little bit hard to look right at her unmentionables. Her body glowed brightly, and those were brightest of all. She had round, pert breasts, but damned if he could make out even a nipple. Not that that was exactly first and foremost on his mind right now.

She sauntered forward, wide hips swaying with each step. She was quite short—about a foot and a half under him—but she seemed totally unimpressed by both him and the gun. She giggled. "Sorry! Didn't mean to sneak up on you."

His fingers relaxed slightly. This clearly wasn't an agent of Gangra. Actually, he wasn't really sure who this was. Or what this was. He glanced at his fingers confusedly.

"Oh." The woman licked her lips. "You might find you don't want to hurt me." Her voice was vibrant and melodic, trickling through his ears with ease and genuine warmth.

Of course not. Marty smiled slightly, amused at the notion. "Of course not."

"Of course not." She laughed. He found himself laughing slightly as well. "You aren't here to hurt me. You couldn't imagine hurting one such as me."

"No, no," he agreed, laughing louder. She had the sweetest, most pleasant laughter he'd ever heard. And what a sense of humor! To think he'd want to hurt her, of all people.

"Mm-hm." The woman took a step forward. "You're clearly a very nice, lovely person. Why would you do a thing like that?"

"Y...no." Marty frowned. Why was he agreeing with that? Why would he lie to this wonderful being? And...why wouldn't he lie? He wasn't a nice person. No. What? There was something. Something.

The woman took a step forward, also frowning.

"N-now hold up!" Marty said angrily. His fingers tightened around the trigger. "Don't say another fucking word, whatever you are. I swear, I'll shoot your brains out if you try any more of that."

"Oh, my." The woman put a finger to her lips, sucking it slightly and giving her voice a slight lisp as she went on. "Are we thinking that—"

BANG.

Marty was shaking, but he knew he'd fired straight. Something about this. He hadn't really wanted to kill her, but she was doing something—something to his...his...

He stared blankly. She wasn't falling.

Marty realized that no hole had appeared in her forehead. She looked completely unharmed, in fact. But he knew he'd fired straight.

The woman snorted. She covered her mouth daintily, giving a toothy grin. "Oh, my. That was adorable." Her voice reverberated on the last word as if she was speaking through a fan. She stepped forward, hips swaying again.

He'd missed. Surely he'd missed. Marty fired again. BANG. Again. BANG.

The bullets sailed right through her. Literally. He saw them pass through her reddish form like she wasn't even there.

And then he realized she was just a foot away from him. She was in reach of the gun!

She giggled as his arms dropped to his sides. "Oh, don't worry." Her eyelids lowered demurely, and her voice turned throaty and seductive. "I'm...solid...in other ways."

Her hand darted forward, brushing his crotch. Marty jumped. "No! Get away!"

But he was diving back into those wide eyes. "Why do you fear me?" He couldn't even see her mouth move. "Why so afraid, little man?" Her burning eyes swirled around like sparklers on the Fourth of July. "I just want to make you happy." Her voice echoed in his head. It started innocent, but each echo sounded somehow dirtier, lustier. "happy...happy..."

She swayed to the right. He twitched. "Don't you want to be happy?"

"yes," he whispered, and was terrified at how small his voice had become. "but."

She swayed to the left. He felt his head tilting. "I can make you happy." Her eyebrows arched invitingly.

"no," he mumbled. "can't."

She swayed to the right. The world seemed to lean slightly with her. "Alllll your troubles...just whisked away." She giggled. "Like magic."

"but." He couldn't think of a rebuttal. His head was swimming in fire. It was warm, and tickled at him, singing away unwanted ideas. It was so nice and warm.

She swayed to the left. The world seemed to lean slightly with her. "So distant," she breathed. "They all seem so distant now, don't they?"

"nn." The pistol fell from his loosening fingers.

She swayed to the right. He felt himself start to lean slightly. "Mm. Soooo. Diiiistaant. Yes?"

"ye." He barely said it. Barely even thought it. But the sound came out.

Her eyes dimpled with joy. "Just that nice, tickly warmth, isn't there? And with me, now." She swayed to the left.

He swayed to the left.

"Just that nice warmth heating you up," she whispered. "Filling you with hungry fire." She swayed to the right. He swayed to the right.

"ye. yes."

"Gooood," she cooed, and he felt a new surge of warmth fill his being. She swayed backwards. He swayed forwards. "And how does it feel?"

"good," he whimpered.

"So good, isn't it?" She swayed back forward to the left. He swayed with her.

"yes."

"And you'd do anything for more of it, wouldn't you?" She swayed backward. He swayed forward.

"yes."

The eyes blazed with desire. "I think you want to beg me for it, don't you?" She swayed right. He swayed right.

"please. oh, please..."

"Yesssss." She licked her lips. "And you're feeling it again now." Sway backward. He followed her, swaying forward.

"yes," he moaned.

"Feels so good. And now..." The eyes did little spirals that made his head spin. "...it's going to your manhood, boy."

He hesitated.

Sway left.

"yes." He felt his member swelling. "yes, oh, yes."

"Feels so good to obey, doesn't it?" Sway forward.

"yes."

"And you'd do anything to feel so good, wouldn't you?" Sway right. "Anything?" Sway left.

He dimly realized they were swaying further and further each time. He heard himself let out a whine. "yes. yes."

"So...you'd do anything to obey me?" The eyes narrowed to slits. Sway backward. Sway forward.

Sway left. Sway right.

Sway backward. Sway forward. Sway right. Sway left.

"i," he gasped. "i..."

She swayed backward, he swayed forward. She swayed left, he swayed left. Swayed right, he swayed right. Swayed left, he swayed left. Swayed backward, he swayed forward, swayed forward he swayed backward—

And then he realized he was losing his balance. He caught a glimpse of the eyes, gleeful, triumphant, and then he fell to the ground. His head bumped the road lightly. He lay there, dazed for a split-second.

She appeared above, lying over him like a blanket, weighing him down with her perfection. He stared right into her eyes, mere inches away.

"Anything," she repeated.

And it was not a question anymore. He felt her knee push gently against his tent, rubbing his cock through the coarse fabric. He felt her breath on his lips and nose. It smelled like smoke. He felt her fingers entwining in his own.

He felt her eyes as they sank into his, poured into his brain, flooded him with flames. Resistance was seared away. Fear was seared away. Only lust. Lust and love and worship and adoration and need joined the inferno, blazing his mind, scalding it with thoughts—thoughts of him kneeling beneath his goddess, licking her out; thoughts of her kneeling before him, pulling his member out and staring at it reverently; thoughts of her bouncing up and down on him followed immediately by thoughts of him pounding into her from above. Fingers tangled in her hair. Nipples pressed against his chest. Toes digging into his neck as the soles arched, as screams and moans filled the crisp air.

All of it, the eyes sighed to him. All of it could be yours.

And with that, the mere man who was Marty nodded meekly and moaned out the answer his goddess wanted.

Her smile was blinding in its radiant glee. She leaned into him, taking his lower lip and kissing him fiercely, passionately. Her eyes all the while bored into him. He felt like he was naked in a desert with not so much as a stone to hide beneath. And so he surrendered himself to it, lost himself in the kiss, gave his body to the sun, pressed himself against her and let her take him.

She laughed against him, and he heard her voice clearly as she kissed him. "All the pain, the fear...It's all so distant for you now, my love. There is only the fire. Only the fire."

He moaned, grasping her head and kissing over her face perfect, beautiful. She moaned in response, eyes widening, her back arching—but he pulled her close, forcing her to stay in his grasp. He felt her fingers fumbling with his belt buckle. The eyes glittered hungrily. "Mine. Nnnh! Make you mine! Miiine..."

His pants slid down to his knees. Her hand caressed his hard cock, fingers trailing around its length like it was covered in braille. She breathed into him, her eyes twin suns. Her hips raised, legs lowering on either side of his own. Her pinky finger tickled his scrotum. "Do you want this?" she asked coyly.

There was a hint of danger to her voice. But her eyes swirled so beautifully, so...so...

"yes," he whispered obediently.

She stared hard at him as her hips began to lower, watching his reaction with unconcealed delight. He felt her lower lips' wetness on the head. Then she began to sink onto him, filling herself with him, encasing him within her. A warm, slippery sheath pulled tightly around his cock.

He moaned. Then he cried out. Then he started to scream as she started to bounce. She seized him in the kiss, holding his gaze as she bounced up and down on top of him. He felt her breasts bouncing, too, rubbing against his chest, pressing into him. Her tongue warred with his, her lips running over his. It was like she couldn't get enough of him.

Her pussy clenched around his cock as it ran up, down, up, down. She would rise just to the tip, freeing all but the head, then fall back down against him, containing him totally in her tight, sticky heat.

She moaned as he bucked against her, returning the kiss. He had to. He had to. "Oh....ohhhh...." Her eyes blazed violet. "Oh! Oh, yes! Yes!" Dimly, he wondered how he could hear her voice when her tongue was in his mouth, when their lips were locked in such fierce embrace, but the thought was seared away by the pleasure. He ran one hand over the small of her back, gripping her pert ass, pulling her against him in time with her bouncing. His other hand went to her breasts, kneading and rubbing and pinching them. He had to please her. He had to. She screamed in pleasure, screamed without pulling away, without words or sound.

He rolled her over—or she forced him on top—and he started pounding into her from above. She gasped and mewled and moaned, pulling out of the kiss at last and planting devouring kisses all over his face. And she never broke eye contact. The eyes were wild, desperate, burning flames that hurt his eyes to look at. But he never looked away. He knew if he did, all of this would end, and he never wanted it to.

He drove his cock into her, feeling the pleasure growing, the heat increasing, the orgasm building. He moaned. Both his hands flew to her breasts and began teasing her, increasing her pleasure by any means he could.

"Oh, call me Mistress!" she cried.

"mistress," he gasped.

"Good boy!" The heat flooded him. His cock seemed to grow even harder as he plunged into her. "Oh, good boy!" The heat filled him again, incinerating away all rational thought. "Good boy! Oh, good b-boy, good BOY, gooooood boaahaaaaaAAAAAAAAAH!" Her eyes screwed shut as she bucked up against him, her pussy squeezing as she came. He felt her juices flooding between them, felt her spasming around him—

He gave a start. His mind was free. Totally. He could still feel the pleasure, but it seemed almot distant now. He stared down at the strange creature screaming and moaning and wriggling beneath him.

"Mm..."

She was using him. She'd broken him down, made him hers, hypnotized him into compliance with those strange eyes. The heat was gone, the fire quenched. Only fear remained.

He started to rise up. His heart was pounding. Horror and fear rose from his gut.

But then her pussy gave another squeeze.

He shivered, feeling the consuming pleasure fill him once more, just for a second. His cock was on the verge of release. Her head thrashed, her hair—sticky with sweat—dancing around her like flames. She was so beautiful.

Just a little longer, he told himself. He pushed back into her, feeling the delicious sensation of her skin against his again. It felt so good. He leaned close, taking a nipple and kissing it hungrily, nibbling it, licking it. Just a little. Just long enough for him to cum. That was all.

He moaned, barely noticing as her legs slowly wrapped around his hips. He thrust into her. Just a little. That was all. She didn't control him anymore. He could pull out whenever. He gave her breast long, loving, worshipful licks. She didn't control him. Just a little more. He needed a little more.

He was so close. So close. As he was licking again, he looked up—

—and saw Mistress staring at him. She was smiling for some reason. He smiled back, filled with adoration, and continued licking.

"Good boy," she cooed. He gasped, feeling the waves of pleasure washing over his cock. "My good boy wants to be mine, doesn't he?"

"yes, Mistress," he moaned. He trailed kisses from her breast up her neckline. Thoughts of resistance had melted away once more. He was putty in her supple fingers. How could he ever refuse her anything?

"Wants to cum, doesn't he?" Her smile was turning smug.

The heat came again, and he let out a whine. "oh, please, Mistress, yes, yes, yes!"

Her pussy clenched around his member. He trembled, on the verge of ecstasy.

She was all-out smirking now. "Mine for the taking."

She stared at him. The flames were dancing. Her expression was smug, but...loving. He was hers, he realized. Utterly. He had surrendered willingly. And why wouldn't he? What more was there to life but—

"Good boy!" she sang.

He came. The overwhelming eruption of bliss made him lose all semblance of control, and he fell down into her arms, screaming with pleasure, moaning and bucking as the flames consumed him. The heat was all around him now, inside him, it was him, and all he wanted ever was to just let it take him.

He looked back up at her perfect face, at her perfect, triumphant, gleeful eyes.

And then the heat consumed him whole.

~~~~~~~~

"What the fuck?" Gangra snapped. She kicked the emptied pistol. "Nothing?" The pistol hit the car tire and bounced off. "We have his car. We found his gun. How far could the bastard have gotten?"

"'parently mighty far," said Tom. He shrugged. "Nothing in the trunk. He must've took the papers with him. I tell you, ma'am, he isn't in this forest. He could be in outer space for all I know."

"Shit." Gangra spat on the ground of the old road. "Shit. You know what this means?"