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Fire and Smoke (Lay the Very Best - Chapter 380)
🕑 Added 2025-05-06 23:41:40 +0000 UTCMorgan's feathers tingled. Every slight brush against her skin made her shiver. The air was still thick with Poison Gas, purple, sweet, curling around her thoughts like a velvet rope. Every breath of it heightened her emotions until the rush in her chest became a roar. Her pulse pounded louder. Her cravings sharpened. Burning green flames flickered along the edges of her wings, but the fire didn't burn away her feathers. It pressed into her skin, stirring something deeper, a raw and consuming need. The green fire whispered of intimacy, of heat shared, of contact. It was maddening. She felt lit from the inside, greedy for touch, for connection, for more.
Rational thought was getting difficult; Morgan could feel the crackling tension of the arena searing her lungs with every breath. It coiled in her gut and curled around her spine, straightening her back, a dark ache begging for release. Her barriers, the walls she kept so carefully reinforced to maintain her image, had been set ablaze and were crashing down.
Morgan didn't care. Not with Heatstroke staring at her like that, purple eyes half-lidded and smoldering. That look alone made Morgan's pulse stutter. She'd shocked the Salazzle but regained her confidence, and now her eyes promised a fight that would leave marks. Even ablaze, Morgan craved more heat.
The Murkrow took a step forward, black energy claws flexed out as her wings burned bright, and that single step was enough to shock the Salazzle back into the moment.
Heatstroke was an inferno in motion. Morgan watched her reposition, drifting sideways with that molten sway to keep her distance, and she felt her blood flare hotter. Heatstroke was wary now she'd lit Morgan's fuse, but even cautious, she was art in motion. Fire kissed every step she took, her lashing tail drawing purple poison trails in the air as she moved. That damn fanged smirk held a promise. "Come closer, and I'll ruin you."
Morgan's grin sharpened at the challenge. Heatstroke was a wildfire she couldn't wait to dive into. She let her breath come heavy. Let her wings flare, shadows trailing in their blazing wake. Let her body respond instead of her mind. Let herself burn.
Heatstroke was waiting across the arena, Fire Lash igniting at her side. Morgan licked her lips, eyes locked to hers.
"Let's ruin each other," she murmured. "I love the way you burn."
Morgan launched forward, using Astonish to burst into a ball of green flame-tinged feathers. Heatstroke lashed out on instinct, the fire whip snapping through the air, and while the fire passed harmlessly through Morgan's dispersed form, the flames still touched her mind. They licked at the edges of her thoughts, feeding that gnawing hunger already twisting in her gut. The intimacy woven into the fire, the promise of contact, of skin-on-skin. Fuck, it made Morgan reckless. Made her want so badly that she threw away all subtly and went right for the throat.
The air rippled violently as Morgan reformed in a burst of green flame and shadow right in front of the Salazzle, close enough to see her pupils flare. She slammed into Heatstroke with full momentum, driving them both into the scorched arena floor in a thunderous crash. Feathers and green flame scattered skyward, little burning flecks drifting back like snow.
Heatstroke growled, trying to free her Fire Lash for a quick retaliation, but Morgan was already on her. She gripped the flaming cord mid-length, shadows wreathing her claws as she pinned it down. The flame hissed and spat, but Morgan's Dark energy warped it, dulling its heat just enough that she could hold it steady. Their eyes locked, purple slits against burning red.
"You're crazed," Heatstroke hissed.
Morgan grinned. "This is what you wanted, wasn't it?"
Heatstroke's palms flared red, then orange, then white-hot as she snarled and shoved upward with a pulse of raw thermal force. The Flamethrower blasted Morgan's chest, ripping her shadows and throwing Morgan off with a heavy grunt. They tumbled apart, each skidding back through scorched grit. Morgan hit the ground on a crouch, already pushing herself upright as Heatstroke sprang to her feet in a whip of smoke and tailfire. Heatstroke whipped her arm in a sharp arc, sending a Fire Lash sweeping toward Morgan, who leaped into the air with a spin, wings flaring wide. The wind intensified around her as she used a burst of Hurricane to redirect the arc of the flames, turning it back on its wielder.
Heatstroke cursed and dove, slipping through the coils of her own Fire Lash and landing in a tucked roll that ended with a pounce. Her claws slashed upward as she sprang, a Flamethrower balling in her hand and Morgan dropped a Sucker Punch right into Heatstroke's palm. The black energy cracked apart the ball of fire in an explosive burst that rocked the surrounding arena. They grappled mid-air for a heart-stopping moment, claw against claw, fingers entangled, flame licking at Morgan's shoulders, as shadow wrapped around Heatstroke's hands.
"I'm going to destroy you," Heatstroke snarled in the bind.
"I really hope you do," Morgan growled back. "I'd love that."
Heatstroke twisted her grip and dropped low, dragging Morgan's arm with her. She kicked off the ground with a hiss, rolling her weight and slamming Morgan down onto her back. The wind knocked out of her, and Morgan barely had time to react before Heatstroke straddled her waist, pinning her wrists to the scorched floor.
The Salazzle's breath hit her face, she was like a furnace, a dizzying mix of gas and flame. Morgan strained upward, her shadows writhing, but she was caught. Caught and loving it. Heatstroke stared down at her with a feral grin, teeth flashing, eyes burning brighter than her flames. Morgan could feel Heatstroke's heartbeat thundering through her chest, and it drove her wild. The way Heatstroke leaned in, her claws pressing just enough, her eyes so full of heat. Morgan struggled for words, but Heatstroke didn't even give her a chance to think.
"Is this what you wanted? Witch?"
"Fuck," Morgan managed. Heatstroke was so close; she was everywhere. All-consuming. A force of nature.
"What's wrong? Can't talk when you're not the one in control?"
Morgan tried to lean up and press into her, aching for more contact, but Heatstroke pulled back just enough to deny her. Her lips quirked. She was enjoying this, Morgan's helpless hunger.
Heatstroke sat up, making her weight shift deliciously across Morgan's hips. Morgan tried to rise with her, but Heatstroke's hand closed around her throat and shoved her back down firmly. The sudden pressure made Morgan's brain fizzle like someone had thrown a lit match into a puddle of oil. Her breath hitched, caught between a gasp and a moan, and her body went still from the dizzying rush of heat and helplessness. It was confusing, maddening, and entirely addictive. The feel of Heatstroke's claws, the command in that grip, sent a flush rolling down her spine and into her core. Her thoughts scattered, and for one breathless moment, all she could do was feel.
Morgan shuddered. Her wings twitched beneath her as Heatstroke leaned in. The Salazzle's tongue flicked out and traced a slow, molten line up the underside of her jaw.
Morgan felt the lick flow into her veins. The lick burned and caressed, honeyed venom that soaked into her skin and smoldered beneath it. Her mouth fell open with a gasp, breath catching as the phantom heat curled in her mouth, brushing her own tongue like a ghostly shared kiss.
Her back arched into the contact, pressing her chest against Heatstroke's, and she felt the way the Salazzle shifted in response, hips grinding just enough for Morgan to feel the firm bulge pressing against her thighs. The contact made her gasp, hips instinctively rolling in answer. Heatstroke's breath hitched as their cocks touched, and Morgan could feel her pulse through the point of dizzyingly intimate contact. The Salazzle adjusted, slow and deliberate, her thigh sliding between Morgan's legs as she enjoyed how every slight movement teased them both. It wasn't any easier for Morgan. She shuddered from the rubbing, the fire in her gut roaring. Every brush of skin and feather, every twitch of claw and curl of fiery breath, fed the charged stillness between them. Morgan's heart kicked against her ribs, overwhelmed by the sudden, furious clarity of her need.
The crowd roared in their ears, distant and meaningless compared to the pounding of their hearts. Every part of Morgan felt alive and on edge, hyperaware of the curve of Heatstroke's thighs over her hips, the way her claws flexed tighter on Morgan's throat with every twitch of their cocks.
"Tell me what you want," Heatstroke purred.
Morgan swallowed, the motion sliding against Heatstroke's grip, feeding the fire crackling up her spine. The only word she could force out was a growl.
"You."
"I need more than that, Witch. You're keeping me from my girl when she's in trouble."
Morgan's eyes narrowed. Her body burned up, and she didn't have time for teasing. She loved games usually, but right now, she just wanted satisfaction, and if Heatstroke couldn't give it, Morgan would take it.
"I want you," she snarled. "To stop fucking around."
Her Dark shadows surged without hesitation, coiling up Heatstroke's legs like living chains. Morgan didn't try to pull free. She attacked. Her claws sank into Heatstroke's thighs, drawing a startled gasp from the Salazzle above her. Heatstroke twitched against her, and her body reacted before she could stop it. Morgan grinned as her claws drew a line of red up the insides of Heatstroke's thighs. She could feel Heatstroke's cock throb and twitch as she worked higher, and the sensation drove her mad. She needed her. Needed her cock. Needed to be inside her right now.
Morgan's fingers closed around Heatstroke's shaft and squeezed, earning a gasp. The Salazzle tried to move away, but Morgan was done playing games. She yanked hard on Heatstroke's thighs, dragging her forward, and she felt Heatstroke's cock slip across her stomach.
"Oh fuck," Heatstroke gasped, hips rolling as Morgan guided her forward. The motion rubbed her length against Morgan's, and the Murkrow's head fell back.
"Yessss," she hissed. "You're mine now."
She tightened her grip, forcing the Salazzle to thrust along her length, and the friction drew a groan from both of them.
"Yes," Morgan hissed. "Fuck, yes, just like that." "I'm on top." the Salazzle huffed. "I'm on top."
Morgan's grin was feral.
"Are you?"
Heatstroke's growl became a gasp as the Murkrow rolled her hips, grinding their cocks together. Her breath caught, claws tightening around Morgan's neck.
"F-fuck!"
Morgan moaned. "That's it."
"Shut up, witch."
"Make me."
The Salazzle snarled. She shifted her grip, claws leaving Morgan's throat, and pressed her palm down over her mouth instead. Heatstroke leaned closer, breath hot and sultry, eyes bright with flame.
"You're not the only one who can play dirty."
Heatstroke's fingers were dripping, smearing a slick layer across Morgan's lips. The poison burned, but the pain was nothing compared to the thrill it sent through her. She felt the venom sink into her, and her whole body shuddered. Heatstroke's touch was pure fire, igniting every nerve and sending her into a frenzy. She couldn't stop herself from opening her mouth, tongue snaking out to taste the poison.
Heatstroke smirked.
"Thought you might like that."
The Salazzle's eyes flashed, and Morgan felt a second, burning surge wash over her. Her breath came heavy, her heart was racing, and the need pulsing between her legs was impossible to ignore. She wanted Heatstroke. Wanted her in a way that left no room for words.
Heatstroke leaned in.
"Ready to surrender?"
She'd come close, and Morgan's lips crashed into hers. Heatstroke's mouth was hot, her tongue was slick, and her kiss was dizzying. It was a messy, desperate thing, their lips and tongues battling for dominance, their bodies pressed together in a searing tangle.
Morgan lost herself in the kiss. She drank it in, savoring the taste and the heat. The feel of Heatstroke's skin against her own. It was intoxicating, and she couldn't get enough. She wanted more. Needed more.
Heatstroke pulled back with a gasp, her eyes wild, her breath ragged.
"I'm gonna make you cum," Morgan growled. "So hard you won't remember your own name."
"Fuck," Heatstroke moaned. "Yessss, fuck. Please. Make me."
Morgan didn't need to be told twice.
Comments
Irish Not Sane
And Morgan’s in control even while doing the riding, Heatstroke never stood a chance
