Hot Enough To Touch

Here is another Smut Marathon entry ( This was the quarterfinal round, and the prompt was for a story in which there were 2 (and only 2) characters in a non cis-het scene. The story I thought of was again something that could have been much larger, and may someday be. I surprised myself with two characters I liked immediately, and could see their past stretching behind them to make them what they were. The story also clicked with readers – it came in first in the round’s popular vote and tied for second (a six way tie) with the judges, to come out overall second for the round among 17 entries. Have to say that felt good. So, here with only a couple mostly cosmetic edits, is the story.


I didn’t think of this image for Pele until well after the story was finished. Not quite accurate, but not so far off.

Pele hadn’t expected anyone waiting inside as she walked through the hole she’d melted in the vault door.

“You’re under arrest,” I said. 

Silence; then she laughed. She was naked, but her body, even her hair, glowed red like heated steel.

“Clear out, if you want to live.”

“Threatening a cop isn’t a good idea.”

“It’s not a threat. It’s a promise.” Her words were haughty, but her voice was… sad.

“You have the right to remain silent.” I began, reaching for her hand. 

“Stay away!” she cried, flaring yellower, hotter. My uniform smoked and blackened. But my hand was on her wrist, and-

“No!” She pulled, but couldn’t free herself. My daily workout isn’t particularly strength-intensive, but my training enabled me to easily catch her other wrist as it flailed. She wasn’t terribly strong — didn’t have to be given what she could do — so I held her easily. What gave me pause, though, was that her wrists felt warm to my touch. They felt warm to my touch. I felt them.

She pulled at me and I saw the panic in her eyes even as my sunglass lenses blistered.

“Listen, Pele, calm down. I’m not going to hurt you. And… you’re not going to hurt me, I’m a Delta, like you.”  Warmth in my hands, sensation on my fingers. God, how long had it been?

She hesitated, heat abating. The whole room smoldered now; my uniform had essentially charred away. Her eyes widened.

“You- you’re not burned. Not dead!”

“Not even a little bit,” I said, “but-“ how do you tell someone they’re the first thing you’ve physically felt in years?

“Oh, God!” She collapsed forward, and I caught her reflexively. Her orange-hot arms came around me in a desperate embrace as she buried her face in my neck and wept. And I felt her. For the first time since the Wave had changed me, made me invulnerable but killed my sense of touch, I felt it all. Her arms around me, molten tears on my shoulder, bare breasts and belly against mine, shuddering with sobs.

Gently, I pulled back and looked at her face. Her furnace eyes told the story of horror, loss, and loneliness I’d seen in my own mirror too many times. And, did I see hope?

“I… don’t hurt you?”

“No,” I smiled. “But I can feel you, and I haven’t felt anything since-”

I couldn’t finish my sentence because she was kissing me; needy, desperate, and real, so real. Her lips were warm, and soft on mine, and I, hardened cop, sighed and kissed back.

Hands roamed, across my back, grazing my breasts, down to my ass to squeeze. I reciprocated, exploring, touching, feeling. Sensations I’d believed gone forever exhilarated me. The Wave had made me impervious but unfeeling, and Pele impossibly hot – too hot to be safely near anyone. But here we were, unhurt, not hurting.

She kissed my neck, and I felt a rush – arousal, eroticism. I nearly wept for joy as her mouth encircled my nipple. Pleasure, pressure, warmth, radiated from her teasing.

I caressed curves, felt softness. Her breasts, stomach, the rise of her mons. Her slick folds, hotter than lava, were simple warm wetness against my skin, and I rejoiced. 

She knelt on the glowing concrete floor, her tongue tracing an incandescent line down my belly and lower. My legs went rubbery and I let myself sink back, taking her hand. We guided each other, she climbing over me and turning, knees to either side of my head, her head poised above my parting legs. I took her hips in hand and pulled her glowing, molten slit down to me. I could taste her – sweet, alive. She gasped and settled onto me, and then her tongue was on me, in me, and I cried out as if I’d never been touched there before. 

She froze, sudden tension betraying the fear that she hurt me. 

“Don’t stop!” I commanded, pleaded. “Don’t ever stop.” To drive home my point I began to devour her pussy as if it was the best thing I had ever tasted, because it was. 

After a gasp and a last hesitation, she did the same, and for the first time since the world had gone to hell, I was in heaven. Pele got brighter, hotter as I brought her closer, and I felt her more, deliciously against me.

She came, keening as her body went blindingly bright. She trembled, flooding me with her juices, and I felt everything. Then her mouth, her hot mouth came down and sucked hard on my clit. My climax exploded into pleasure I’d never known. I felt, I felt, I felt

In the aftermath, we lay entangled in a depression melted into the vault floor. She’d cooled to ember-red, but her fingers tracing my ribcage still made me tingle. One thing I knew was that I could not lose her. But.

“Look, Pele, we have to figure out how-“

“Alice. My name is Alice. I hate Pele. I’m not a comic book villain.”

“Alice, I like Alice. I’m Klavdia. We have to figure out how to get you clean with the law, if we even can…”

“Or… you could leave here. With me. Together.”

A new change was upon me, bigger than the Wave. And this one was entirely my choice.

Categories: Competition, Erotic Fiction, erotic science-fiction, Lesbian, Oral Sex, RazielTags: , , , , ,


I am the little devil on your shoulder, stroking your neck with my tail, whispering obscenities into your ear, and looking down your blouse. One third of The Erotic Writer blog.


  1. Mic

    Congrats on your continued success! Certainly earned.

    While this isn’t exactly what comes to mind when I think of your writing, the quality is definitely there. I guess I’m just hoping you get bit by the N&V bug again someday :)

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