Keeper of the Flame

by Stephanie Burke

  Flame refused to believe Kendall was the type to use him in such a manner, but she kept looking at him with that glassy-eyed expression Devo had warned him about. Even more disturbing was the fact that his own body betrayed him each time those brown orbs looked at him just so.

  Could it be that he was—his breath caught with gasp and a shudder—facing the desire to lust after her as well? Devo had explained the symptoms and warned that a cold bath was best cure for returning your blood to its proper place. But could the mating lust be upon him? This required further thought.

  Once they entered the cabin, Flame disappeared to care for the children while Kendall headed for the kitchen for a snack. Once there, she noticed the light on the forgotten answering machine blinking. A little afraid she had been tracked by some government type who would want to know about the sunken spaceship in the lake behind her house, she leaned against a nearby wall and with trembling fingers pressed the play button.

  “Kendall, I know you’re there. Pick up the phone.”

  It was none other than Doctor Dick himself. Her fear turned to frank curiosity and then to anger.

  “Look, I know you are there and I really need to talk to you. Your sister and I are on our way there right now. Please Kendall, just hear us out. It’s important.”

  “Damn! This is just what I need right now.” Kendall groaned sarcastically, dropping her head back against the wall. Was it her dumb luck or was the old wives’ tale about talking people up true?

  “Exactly, Mistress.” Flame watched her slide down the wall with a miserable groan. “You need to confront them and place your past behind you. It is the only way you will finally be free of the shadow that they cast on your life.”

  Kendall swore silently to herself. What she needed was a little self-affirming sex to put a new perspective on life and close the door to the past, not a confrontation with her ex.

  “Now is the time to right that wrong, Mistress. You can face them now and on your own terms.”

  “What happened to calling me Kendall?” She glared up at him from her place on the floor. She did not want to face this particular past mistake.

  “What will you do, Mistress?” he put emphasis on the title.

  She winced. Perhaps he was right. The past had to be faced. “Will you help me, Flame?” She looked up at him, feeling a little lost.

  “All you need do is ask, Kendall.” But instead of moving toward her he turned to leave.

  “Where are you going?” Kendall called after him as she struggled to her feet.

  “To shower.” He called the explanation over his shoulder as he raced for the bathroom.

  Kendall eyed his escape with suspicion until she realized the reason for his retreat. It was kind of hard to ignore his reaction to her when her face was waist level with the evidence of his desire. She bit back a chuckle, realizing her red-haired mystery man wanted her just as much as she wanted him.

  “Soon, Flame, soon.” She promised as she walked into the living room. She would choose the place to have this showdown. She would maintain control.

  * * * * *

  Flame stood under the stinging spray of chill water in the shower.

  This cold was not working; he thought as he closed his eyes, braced his hands against the cool tile wall.

  His organ throbbed in time with the pounding of his heart. All he could think about was Kendall.

  Kendall, in her tight pants, her rounded bottom swaying as she walked. Kendall, smiling at him as she walked, her breasts bobbing beneath the shirt she wore. Kendall, her full lips parted and her Tarcas stone eyes shining as she discovered something about her self, or flashing in anger as she raced to defend him against his past.

  Kendall had filled his mind and was ruling his senses.

  An unconscious moan escaped his lips, the sound echoing in the shower stall, resonating a deep needful cord from within his tense body.

  Flame had never felt this, this arousal, to this level before.

  He pulled one hand free of the wall, running its cool touch down his chest to his groin, hoping to massage away the ache.

  But instead, as his hand touched his painfully erect cock, the sensation that shot through it caused his sack to tighten and his knees to buckle.

  Shocking waves of heat and need rushed through his at first contact.

  What was this?

  Was this why the men were forbidden to touch themselves?

  His eyes slowly closed and a deep rumbling groan escaped his throat as he slowly stroked himself again.

  From the thick base of his golden shaft to the now angry purple heart shaped head, tingles of lighting followed his touch.

  Tentatively, he touched his sac, feeling the hard roundness of his full testicles within, shuddering as he rolled them gently in his palm, sending a new sensation shooting up his back and around to his cock.

  His whole body shuddered and despite the coolness of the water, he broke out into a sweat.

  Fisting his hand around his shaft, his thumb gently caressing the small darker line of flesh that showed where his foreskin had been removed during this manhood ceremony, Flame tightened his hand and began to pump.

  “Gods!” he gasped as something inside him shifted and his hips slammed into his touch.

  His skin prickled and tingled, burned where he touched. He felt his testicles tighten and push up against the base of his cock as clear droplets of his pre-pleasure beaded to the tip of its head.

  Steam began to rise off of his body as his hips sent a demand to brain, a command that could not be denied. Pump and pump hard! Now!

  Giving in to this new need, his hand began to squeeze and slam down on his erection, the tip of his fisted fingers catching just under the head of his penis, sending extra fire shooting with each rough touch.

  His eye squeezed shut, his face broke out into a grimace of pleasure, his hand flew faster than lighting, increasing the need, increasing the desire, increasing the pleasure.

  Suddenly, he saw a clear picture of his Kendall in his mind. His Kendall, baring her brown flesh, offering him her nakedness, sharing her body with him. Her smile was open and engaging, her eyes slumberous with desire, her arms and legs spread in welcome.

  “Kendall!” he gasped. “Love me, Kendall.”

  As his words circled around the steamy shower, Flame’s eyes snapped open.

  What was he doing? It was against the rules to self-pleasure!

  Cursing himself a fool several times over, he jerked his hands away form his body, denying the shuddered of release that beckoned just over the horizon, ending the intense pleasure that had spread across his body, but leaving the need shimmering just below the surface.

  Shuddering, he stepped into the cold spray, ignoring the sizzle as the water touched his heated flesh, ignoring the heat and humidity that now filled the room, ignoring the primal smell of sex that filled the air.

  Even worse that the thought of breaking that rule, of losing his control, was the thought of experiencing such a great cataclysmic release alone.

  If and when he ever earned such a pleasure, he wanted to have Kendall beside him, over him, under him, not just a phantom of her in his mind.

  He closed his eyes and let the cold spray caress his face although the biting cold did nothing to assuage his desire.

  But for his Mistress, his Kendall, he could wait. He obeyed the inner sense told him that the solo release would be a hollow one. His victory would come with Kendall. Even if it took him the rest of his life here on this planet, he would earn the right to prove himself worthy of her.

  That, on all the energies that swirled through his body, he swore.

  * * * * *

  Richard and Caressa arrived later that evening soon after Flame and Kendall pulled both squirmy babies from their baths.

  The scene had been so peaceful and domestic. The front of Kendall’s shirt was soaked from the splashes made by the growing babies. The water carried the unforgettable smell of baby soap and new sk
in.

  Sitting on the floor with Kendall, Flame felt a pull at his heart as he watched her struggle to place his son’s kicking legs into the blue sleeper that she had picked out for him. It would be wonderful to stay here on this mountain with her and pretend to be a typical American family, but neither he nor his children were quite typical.

  Already Spark’s hair was a fiery red while Ember’s red hair was streaked with slashes of an almost blinding white. He looked down at his daughter content in her baby seat wearing her pink sleeper while he contemplated the meaning of that phenomenon.

  Before he could comment on her coloration, there was a knock at the door and all of the warm family feelings evaporated.

  Kendall tensed at the sound, instantly alert. Flame automatically took up a defensive position in front of Kendall and the children as the door creaked opened and the two people entered.

  “Well, it looks like the nuclear family in here.” The female spoke softly while wringing her hands. She eyed Kendall with large slanted eyes and gave her a tentative smile.

  This woman had to be the older sibling that Kendall had spoken of, her estranged sister. They looked very similar from their golden brown skin to their wavy black hair, although this woman let her flow free around her shoulders while Kendall kept hers in a neat and tidy bun.

  The most startling differences between the two women were in their height—the older sister stood several inches taller than Kendall—and in their eyes. While the brown of the sister’s eyes was mixed with a dark gold, only Kendall’s eyes possessed the deep brown shade of the rare and prized Tarcas stones. It was a shade so deep it could mesmerize anyone who dared to linger and stare too long.

  Also, unlike Kendall who preferred those dreaded revealing blue jeans, this woman was dressed in a soft flowing gown that looked to be made of wild flowers on a soft white field. It was feminine and delicate, but Flame decided he preferred the straight honesty in Kendall's style of dress. A woman could hide lots of things behind the abundant material of the sister’s dress, weapons for instance, just as Catla hid her true nature behind a mask of innocent beauty and power.

  “Hello, Caressa.” Kendall spoke stiffly from the floor. She cradled Spark in an unconsciously protective embrace. “Richard.” She nodded at the man who stood behind her sister dressed in a brown suite.

  No one made any threatening moves toward Kendall or his children. Flame gracefully sank to the floor and began shoving baby paraphernalia back into the baby bags, but kept a wary eye on the visitors who had invaded their temporary home.

  “You can call off your Irish wolfhound, Kendall. I promise not to touch you.” Richard plucked an invisible piece of lint from his jacket sleeve and eyed Kendall expectantly.

  Kendall raised an eyebrow at his commanding tone, but instead of calling Flame off, joined her steely eyes gaze to his. Richard ran a finger under his restricting collar as both cutting gazes focused in on him. He began to look a little like a deer caught in a set of oncoming headlights.

  “Who are these adorable children, Dallie?” the sister, Caressa broke in. She eased a little closer to her little sister and turned her eyes to Flame. “And who is this handsome man?”

  “They belong to Flame,” Kendall answered, her voice sounding possessive. “And he belongs to me.”

  She turned to face him. “Flame, this is my sister Caressa. I’ve told you all about her.”

  “Jesus, Kendall! There is no reason to be so ruthless.” Richard placed a protective arm around the jittery woman and eased her to his side.

  “There is no reason for you to make such a noise in the presence of my children and my...girlfriend,” Flame countered with a small grin at Kendall. He remembered the word that she had used to describe him earlier to the man, Richard. He should keep consistent with her story.

  Richard’s defensiveness did not bother Flame. It was clear to him through the man’s actions where the man’s heart now lay. A true man would remember where his loyalties lay.

  Flame turned his attentions to his children who seemed a little startled by the loud outburst. They hadn't cry. Instead they both turned to Kendall in perfect accord, as if to say, “This is the man you wanted?”

  “Have a seat.” Kendall gestured to the couch situated in front of bathing party and ignored the look she was getting from her charges. “We will be with you all in a moment.”

  A tense silence filled the room while they finished with the children and in single file marched from the room. In the bedroom, they placed the children in their cubes and observed each other over the bodies of the squirming children who seemed to be shaking their heads in dismay about Kendall’s choice of mate before closing their little eyes and beginning nodding off.

  “Mothers all over the world would kill to have these cubes, Flame. Do they come in adult size?” Kendall sought to cover her unease in her usual way, by ignoring it, but Flame would not allow her to hide from herself.

  “You are being very gracious, Mistress.” The babies seemed to nod, once again in complete accord. “I will bring out the refreshments I have prepared in a moment.”

  “Thank you, Flame,” she whispered. She knew she meant more than just the pastries he'd cooked. She walked around Spark’s cube and threw her arms around Flame in a big hug. He stiffened as her arms moved around him.

  “What’s wrong?”

  “I have never been touched like this before.” Flame's voice noticeably deepened. “What is this ritual called?”

  “You have never been hugged?” she looked up into his eyes with evident astonishment.

  “No. But I think I like it.” He wrapped his arms around Kendall in return, delivering an enveloping embrace. She watched his eyes close in evident enjoyment.

  “Hugging,” he mused. “I must do this with my children often so that they too might know of this warm feeling of comfort.”

  “Only you would make such a simple act seem so special, Flame!” Kendall declared. She eased out of his arms and turning to face the living room.

  His words had touched a deep part of her and infused her with confidence. If a man like Flame could face his past and move on with the joy of discovery in his heart, so could she.

  She tugged her damp shirt into place and walked into the living room to face her past, leaving Flame to stare in open-mouthed wonder at what a damp, nearly transparent shirt did to her breasts and her nipples.

  This was going to be a long evening, he decided as he looked down at his swelling lower extremity.

  By the time Flame had recovered his control, Kendall was gone and he had to rush to the kitchen to retrieve the refreshments that he had prepared earlier. The pastries were easy to make with her simple cooking devices; still he took pride in the fact that he was able to produce something beautiful out of the ingredients that he found in her kitchen.

  He really did not know what whipped cream was exactly, but when combined with something called strawberry syrup, it made a light and delightful filling for the bread-like substance called pound cake. All he had to do was make a center pocket in a slice of the pound cake and add his makeshift filling. The few red berries he found fresh were sliced and decorated the top of his pastries and something sweet called “powdered sugar” was sprinkled on top. For a quickly thrown together snack, it was pretty and looked impressive.

  When Flame arrived at the battlefield, everyone was staring at the floor or the ceiling, anywhere but at each other. Again tension fairly crackled in the air of the room.

  “Refreshments?” He offered his tray first to Kendall, then to Caressa. He purposely said nothing to Richard, just shoved the platter in the other man's direction with great indifference.

  Flame marveled at his actions. He did not understand the possessive feelings that had come over him while dealing with his Mistress, but he knew that he held an intense dislike for the man-child who sat primly on the couch beside the sister and now openly eyed Kendall.

  “These are delicious.” Caressa gushed after sampli
ng one of the little pastries on the tray. She licked a bit of frosting off of her fingers before turning to her scowling sister, “When did you learn to cook, Dallie?”

  “I didn’t. Flame did the cooking.” Kendall crossed her arms in front of her. Caressa’s mannerisms and flirtatious nature obviously annoyed his Mistress.

  Kendall had moved a kitchen chair into position in front of Richard and Caressa; a position no doubt calculated to give her the upper hand in the conflict as the chair lifted her higher than the couch cushion’s lifted their guests. Hiding a grin, Flame placed the tray in the coffee table within easy reach of their guests before taking up a stance behind Kendall’s chair.

  Automatically he took up the position of life-mate. It felt right to support his Mistress in this small way. Confidently he reached for her right hand and clasped it into his.

  Kendall was startled at Flame's gesture, knowing what it must cost him to take up such a position again, but she gladly accepted his help and support.

  She turned her attention to the Doctor and her devoted sister. It was more difficult than she imagined, watching the two of them together. “Let’s cut to the chase, shall we? What do you want.”

  “A chance to explain.” Richard was obviously observing the easy way Flame and Kendall touched. “When did the two of you meet anyway? Where is the mother of those children?”

  “Dead,” Flame’s answer was curt. “And when we met is none of your concern, for you had already forced this treasure from your life.” She felt the energy it cost him to prevent the red sparks from filling his eye.

  Richard blanched a little at the blunt answers, but dogmatically continued onward ignoring Flame’s dark look and Caressa’s startled glance.