***Byron***

Byron gripped the curve between her lower back and the top of her butt, and she clamped on to him with her thighs.

You just go for it. Awesome.

Kate nibbled his upper lip, then ran her tongue along his jawline, towards his ear. He switched to a one-armed grip and pivoted away from the abandoned bruschetta. There were clear countertops on the opposite end of the kitchen. Navigating would probably be easier if he looked away from Kate for a second, but--

There. He set her down on the edge of the far countertop without incident. While he was congratulating himself, Kate sucked his earlobe between her teeth. His knees buckled.

"Oh, you like that, hmm?" she said.

He tossed his head like a water buffalo. Sensing his vulnerability, she thrust her tongue into his ear.

Not there! Shit!

"Weak spot?" Kate's green eyes smiled even more brightly than she did; the effect was better in person than in her selfie.

You might be my weak spot. "Maybe a little," he said, pinching her knee.

"I'm not sensitive there," she chided him. Then: "Shirt off, bad boy. I want to watch."

"Who doesn't?" He winked at her and stripped to the waist, taking his time with each button.

"Cocky." Kate said, hopscotching her fists down his flexed abdomen. Her fingertips followed his inguinal crease to the crotch of his pants and walked down his inseam. It was a long walk. "Very cocky."

"Ah!" His hips bucked. She had gripped his length through the fabric.

"You're very sexy," she teased. "I doubt anyone could resist you."

"Why would you want to?" Byron said, but he glanced downwards. Something soft was butting up against his calf, and it was distracting.

Kate leaned closer so she, too, could peer at whatever Byron was looking at. Her cat nuzzled insistently against Byron's leg. Byron was pretty sure the cat was drooling on him.

"Out! Whose side are you on?" Kate wiggled her foot in the air in the cat's general direction. "Shoo!" With a hoarse meow of complaint, the cat fled.

"I'm pretty popular," Byron said.

"Well, you're mine right now," Kate bit him hard above his collarbone. "I've marked you."

"Mm," Byron said, and he pulled her close again, her breasts pushing into his chest.

Kate hissed and dug her fingers into Byron's shoulders, but then pulled back and covered the burns on her chest. Byron loosened his grip around her. "Fuck, I'm sorry. I forgot."

Kate shook her head. "They're just like sunburns. Come back."

He leaned into her more carefully, kissing her hairline, her cheeks, and her lips. She writhed with delight.

"Here?" he said, kissing the nape of her neck.

"It's nice," she said.

"Unacceptable." Byron kissed her earlobe. "Here?"

"Sensitive, but not like you!" She playfully pushed his face away, but left her hand on his cheek. He took the hint, turning her hand over so he could kiss her on the wrist. "Here?" he said.

"Mm. Warm," Kate said.

Byron kissed down her arm. She wiggled when his lips touched the inside of her elbow.

"Warmer," she whispered.

He tickled her underarm with his fingers. He expected a laugh; he received a moan.

Gotcha. He raised her arm over her head, interlocking her fingers with his. She turned to the side, opening her armpit to him. He nuzzled her, inhaling her scent; she had showered recently, but thankfully no deodorant. The vanilla in her hair was sexy, but her natural scent was unlike anything Byron had ever experienced. He licked her.

"Ah!" Kate arched her back, grinding her mound into his leg again.

I can't wait to taste you for real. He set his tongue to work.

Kate slapped her hand on the countertop and blindly pushed away a spice rack. After a minute, she bolted away, yanking her arm free.

Byron smiled. "Want me to get the other side?"

Growling, Kate yanked his belt off and hurled it across the room. He reached for the straps of her halter dress, but she stopped him. He backed off as he had when he landed on her burns.

"Everything all right?" Byron said.

"Fine," Kate said. "More than fine. But there's something I've been thinking about since you pulled me out of the fire." She hesitated. "It might weird you out..."

Byron shook his head. "You know what you want. That's a huge turn-on."

"It weirds me out a little," Kate confessed, with a flash of vulnerability Byron hadn't seen before, not plainly, even though he'd been able to sense it along. It was one thing to know it was there, and another to see how Kate's eyes swept down to avoid looking at him.

"We could wait," Byron said, "if you feel unco--"

Kate shook her head and pressed a finger to his lips.

"I want to do it," she said. "Trust me. I know what I want."

Byron resisted the urge to suck her fingers into his mouth. He settled for a light kiss, and Kate lowered her hand.

"If you're sure," he said.

"I am," she said, nudging him away so she had space to hop down off the counter.

Byron stayed quiet as Kate led him into her bedroom. He kicked his boots off at the door while she went to her dresser. He was standing next to her bed when she tossed something onto the mattress.

"Where did you get this?" Byron said, picking up the rescue knife. Like the one that he'd used at the Kangaroo, it had an orange, plastic grip marked with a medical cross; a seat-belt cutter; and a blunt-tipped blade for safely removing clothes.

"Amazon Prime," Kate said. "The same day you saved me."

"Are you sure you're comfortable with this?" Byron said.

"Open it," Kate said. Her eyelids fluttered at the click of the blade locking into place, and she made the throaty moan that he'd fantasized about since he'd rescued her.

Whoa.

She sauntered to the side of the bed and guided his free hand beneath her dress, pushing aside her panties. "Ask me again if I'm comfortable."

The scent of her arousal, and the wetness scorching his knuckles, had captured his full attention. He really needed to get out of his pants, but he thought of how she had looked away just a moment before, how she was at least a little conflicted about wanting this. Byron exhaled nosily and reluctantly withdrew his hand.

"Ok," Byron said, breathing in again. "We need to talk through a few things first. Cool?"

"Cool."

***Kate***

Kate needn't have worried that negotiating the scene would kill the mood. He listened, didn't judge, and intuited her desires with preternatural skill. In a conversational lull, she traced the grooves of his abdominals and the line of hair that started at his navel. "Why don't you change before you suffocate?"

He stood up, leaving the rescue knife on the bed, and unbuttoned his pants.

"Slowly." Kate moistened her lips as the zipper descended. She concentrated, determined to commit its sound to memory.

His pants dropped to the floor, revealing forest green boxer-briefs. He dragged his waistband down to give her a glimpse of trimmed pubes and the base of his cock. She reached for him. He stepped away, letting the waistband snap back into place.

"But-" Kate said.

"We were almost done talking about your fantasy," he said.

She handed the knife back to him. "I'm not asking you to threaten me. It's not about danger."

"You want to feel safe," Byron said. "I get it."

Kate's cheeks burned. Of course he gets it, women must ask him for this sort of thing all the time.

Byron shook his head. "Women mostly want to touch my muscles or see me in the uniform."

"What the hell?" Kate said. "How did you know what I was thinking?"

"Lucky guess." Byron shrugged. "Your eyes hint at what you're feeling. Dunno if that makes sense."

Kate deep-kissed him even though his answer made no sense. "So, can we?"

Byron looked over her chosen props: a hotel ice bucket; candle lighter tea lights; and the rescue knife. He lit the tea lights and turned the overhead off; the flickering flames played across his tanned skin, made it glow.

"What's your safe word?" Byron tested hot wax on his forearm. "Mine's asparagus."

"Nickelback."

"Ooh, that's a good one." You can lie back and close your eyes."

"I picked a word I'd never use unless things went horribly wrong." Kate didn't let people hurt her, and she didn't take orders; she had only ever said 'Nickelback' to let a partner know that she was uncomfortable inflicting more pain.

"You can lie back and close your eyes. Maybe on the floor, unless you want to put some towels down."

"Floor," Kate said, laying back and closing her eyes.She lay back and closed her eyes.

He ran his rough hand along her calf. She parted her legs, but he ignored the invitation. She was supposed to be unconscious, after all.

He kissed her forehead, eyelids, and lips. "Ready?"

"Yes," Kate said. "I'll say clementine if I want to slow down."

"I'll do the same. Why clementine?"

"It's like an orange," she said. "It's between yellow and red."

She resisted the urge to crack open her eyelids. The top of the ice bucket thunked onto her dresser. Ice cubes clattered within; he was stirring them with the tongs. She shivered.

He kissed her hairline, her cheeks, and the nape of her neck. His fingers hooked the straps of her halter dress, pulling them away. Freezing metal dented the skin above her collarbone and drew a chilling line towards her breast. She wondered whether he would pinch her nipple with the tongs. Tearing fabric, and the release of tension in her dress, corrected her misconception.

It's the knife. He had chilled the blade in the ice bucket.

She bucked her hips, but his palm pinned her to the mattress, rubbing her mound through her panties. She moaned.

"I love hearing you moan," he said. But he released the pressure.

Bastard.

Cutting the straps would have been too easy. He sliced her dress vertically, pausing to press the flat of the blade into her ribs. She breathed in unsteadily and her eyelids fluttered but stayed closed. The blade was cold, and he seemed to know the exact moment it was warmed by her skin because he flipped the knife around to press the other flat side against her skin. When he readjusted his grip and resumed cutting, he went slowly and he paused again at the top of her thigh. She bit her lip to keep silent. For an agonizing moment there was nothing; she pictured his hands hovering above her and tried not to squirm. Finally, he peeled the dress away from her skin.

She peeked and did not regret doing so; the head of his cock emerged above his waistband. "I love seeing you hard for me," she said. Never content to only look, she walked her hand up his thigh and into his boxers, firmly gripping his thickness. "What kind of fireman are you, getting turned on by the woman you're rescuing?"

Byron moaned but gently pushed her hand away. "Let me focus on you."

Kate propped her head up on a pillow. "I want to watch. I wasn't out the whole time, before."

He smiled. "You can do whatever you like. That's my fantasy."

"Do my bra next," she said.

"It looks expensive," he teased. "And the green goes great with your eyes..."

She glared at him. "My car was expensive. Do the bra!"

He slipped the blade under the bra, teasing her nipple with the round tip, and freed her breasts.

"Touch me," she demanded.

He kissed below her navel. She sighed. He pulled the jewel-green fabric of her panties away to kiss lower still. But not low enough.

Miserable bastard.

The candle lighter clicked. Once again, Byron poured hot wax from a tea light onto his forearm. "I think it's okay."

She held out her forearm, and he tested the wax on her from a greater height. She nodded. "It feels good."

He held the tea light well above her stomach. "Ready?"

So ready.

Kate grabbed his free hand and squeezed.

***Byron***

The candlelight favored Kate's freckled skin and transformed her copper hair into a halo. Her eyes were closed and her expression serene, but she exuded sexuality despite, or because of, her vulnerability. Her image aroused and troubled Byron, like he'd stumbled upon pin-up art of a martyr being laid to rest.

The effect was amplified by the silent passion that played across her face when the first drop of wax struck above her navel. She sighed; the tension Byron felt wasn't coming from her.

He cooled the wax with his breath.

"Mm," she said, smiling.

"You good?" he asked.

She squeezed his hand.

A drop on her thigh elicited a laugh. Two more beneath her breast earned him a moan. He finished each with a kiss and stayed clear of her chest and upper arms. Her first-degree flash burns had already almost healed-nothing to be concerned about.

His hand trembled, spilling too much wax. He caught the falling drops on the inside of his wrist, clenching his teeth to keep from crying out. The candles had grown brighter, or his eyes had grown more sensitive; his head ached.

I don't want to hurt you.

I want more.

The opposing anxieties amplified each other. A drop of sweat fell from his brow into Kate's belly button.

She gasped, then giggled. "What was that?"

He pulled his hand away from hers so she would not feel it tremble.

She sat up, giving him a concerned look. "Are you alright?"

Do you want to stop?

She's into it. Don't mess up the scene.

Byron smiled. "I need both hands to light more candles."

Kate lay back down.

He massaged his temples. There was no reason for this to be difficult. He lit several more tea lights, doused one, and coated his thumb in warm wax.

"Body paint," he said, stroking her nipples.

"That feels amazing," Kate said. "But I want..." She guided his thumb beneath her collarbone and drove it into her burned skin. Her hips arched. Her fear, her pain, her unfathomable need crashed into Byron.

He resisted the urge to pull away. His heads throbbed. He needed to escape her. He needed to be inside her.

She spread her arms. "I don't want to be afraid."

Byron held tea lights above her injuries, resisting the urge to squeeze his eyes shut.

She nodded.

He poured the wax.

Her terror smothered him in coils of black smoke. Kate hadn't slept right since the accident; nightmares assaulted her every night, but she had been too proud to tell him. She didn't need to: His skin blackened, his eyes boiled in their sockets, and his lungs were too scorched to scream.

Forcing the images from his mind, he emptied the ice bucket over her chest. She convulsed, knocking most of the cubes onto the carpet. He held her tight and said "You're okay" as many times as she needed to hear, which was not many. Her breathing steadied. Their terror vanished, replaced by a sense of relief powerful enough to share.

"You're tough," he said.

She smiled. "I'm freezing. Warm me up?"

He pawed ice cubes off her sheets and body. "You want a towel?"

She slid over on the bed and pulled him onto her, hooking her legs around his hips. Her coral lips attacked his face and neck from every angle.

Between kisses, he asked, "So, where does your fantasy go from here?"

"I'll whisper it to you."

He lowered himself between her legs, feeling her heat through the thin fabric, and made small circles with his hips. The friction and her little delighted noises made him hard, which made for more friction and more little delighted noises.

She whispered something incomprehensible.

"Huh?" he said, leaning closer.

She locked her arms and legs around him and latched onto his earlobe like the world's sexiest lamprey. He posted up on one arm to separate himself, but she savaged the grooves and depressions of his ear with her tongue, sending him crashing down on the mattress.

"Agh!" he cried. "Unfair!"

"No, this is." Kate reached into his boxers. His cock jumped at her touch; she worked it with slow, helical strokes while molesting his ear.

Byron moaned. Feels good. Feels too good. Oh God. Aspa- no. Don't want her to stop. What was the other one? Tangerine? Fuck!

She maneuvered her free hand between their bodies and squeezed his balls.

***Thanks for your help with the text,  browneyedgirl65