Disclaimer: I don't own it, if I did then Warren would have sent the entire movie on screen shirtless, except maybe for the end with the suit and he would have been the one snogging Layla before saving the world, not that I don't love Will and all but Warren is so much more...fun.
Summary: Fire consumes everything in front of it. And what is left is forever altered.
Burning me from deep inside through bone and muscle to blood and fat and finally the heat breaks out of my skin and erupt in perfection.
One touch on my hand, a brush against my side, the shadow of lips against my hair and the spark is born.
It sits in the very centre of me just enough heat that my mind sits on it constantly, under my other worries like Maths for Heroes and my future, makes my mind wonder until I think of the consummation that occurs when I fan the spark and create the flame and let the fire inside of me burn.
I remember the day I discovered the flame inside of me, it was a day that I got burned. There was no spark, just a flame that overtook every cell inside of me. I was scare to be consumed that day, scared of what would happen after the fire had burned me hollow and I had run away from it, run from it until I realised I needed the heat and sweet agony I had had just a taste of.
When I touched the fire again I understood it more, but I rushed in so quickly making my brain slow right down until I only knew the flame and the source of the fire, heat in front and around and behind and my own flame rising up to meet the heat from outside. I touched that flame until I understood how it made me burn, until I knew how it would consume me. But each time I feel it burst I know it's different from last time and one day I am going to get burned again.
It has been a week since I was set alight. Each day I feel the spark inside of me calling to me. But I cannot sate it, I cannot appease the devil within me that begs me to burn. No matter what I do, nothing is as good as when the brush against my side turns into a caress or the shadow of your lips becomes the press of your mouth against my flesh.
I need more than the slide of my own hand to turn the spark into a flame that burns hot enough to scorch my bones and make the devil inside me sing while it is turned to ash.
I force the devil to wait while I do whatever I can to make it through one more day without your touch. It does not get easier, I sit and listen to Medulla and I think of all of the ways we incorrectly used the freeze ray. I get sent to the nurse when I am not paying attention in gym and remember when you played nurse. I am in a haze of smoke and I am searching for a fire that will make me feel whole again.
Then you are in front of me, even without your touch I am aflame. The touch of your hair along my skin, the feeling of your fingers running over paths they know so well. Legs tangle to increase the heat. Lips and tongues, breath against the skin should make the fire abate but everything just makes the flames burn red then blue til there is just the shimmer of heat making the world turn to waves and everything disappear except for the press and push and inundation of heat. When it all ends I think of the sun, I see it inside of me running through every bone and muscle until I am nothing but a melted puddle of what I used to be before I met you.
You lift your head and say the first words I have heard in a week.
"Warren," I manage to smile back at you, before pulling your mouth back to me, that one word from your perfect lips enough to set me burning again.
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Let me know what you think, I may have overdone the metaphor but oh well.