maybe we started this fire [flamevein]

[Flamevein]

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When I met you I was younger
Full of brimstone with a burning hunger

He is fire.

It does not frighten him; to the contrary, the flames excite him. They run through his veins white hot and begging for release, and he doesn’t often deny them. His blood is gasoline; potent and easily ignited. A son of the Dark God, born from a mortals womb. He is fire made into living, breathing horseflesh. Fire was his birthright and his legacy. The taste of ash on his tongue is common-place and the stench of it clings to his skin. He cannot shed it, nor does he want to. It is the promise, the reminder of what he is capable of.

Her call is as soft as the crackle of leaves set ablaze. He hears her easily though, recognizing her flame-kissed rasp. The last time he had shown her his fire she had shrank away, trembling and wide-eyed. But now she approached him, those wide-eyes more curious than afraid. A brow raised on his nebula splashed face as she stepped closer, touching him hesitantly on the shoulder. Though he’d never touched himself before, he could only imagine that the flesh beneath her soft muzzle was uncomfortably warm, as if the flames were lurking just beneath the sleek black fur. “You rang?” he purred, his voice drawling the words along. Her touch felt strange to him, as if there was something else to her question.

“Tell me how to control the fire.”

Did he have an answer for her? He had never been one for self-denial, always giving in to one urge or another. Whether it be the urge to feel sweat-soaked hips beneath him, or the urge to set the earth ablaze, more often than not he gave in. Perhaps though there was some type of control to his actions. He had never used his flames on another horse, despite having the urge to many times. “Hmmm…” came another drawl as he mulled over her words. “My fire is me, and I am the fire. We are one in the same. Without me the flames do not exist, and without the flames I am just another nameless face in the crowd. You need to feel your fire. Feel it as a part of you, as much as your mane and your feet are. Nurse them, coax them, and give in to them. Do not choke them; that only makes it worse.” He suspected that is where her fear steamed from. From the beginning she had tried to snuff out the fire burning in her throat; in doing so she had created a monster that begged for release. “Burn me. Light me on fire. You can’t hurt me.” he said, not demanding, but more so begging. “Let the fire loose. Use it. Let is use you. Now.” the last word was sharp, his eyes flashing at her. Whether she wanted to admit it or not, she needed the release as much as the fire inside of her did.

flamevein