She tasted like fire.
Smoldering ashes that draped her tongue, laced with vile and acrid fumes that suffocated, poisoned, coursing down your trachea; aimed to steal your breath, burn away the oxygen that mortals held so dear. It suffocated, but you did not mind. All you could focus on was the steady burn as your flesh seared away, skin dry and peeling.
A sickly stench filled your nostrils and you tried to move away to gag (oh my gosh it hurt) but she kept you in place, her hands snaking their way to the sides of your head, overwhelming tendrils of heat digging into the skins she touched, fingers gracefully scorching through your hair. Desire jumped off her skin (or what was her flaming exterior) onto yours through flecks of ash, running deep, rooting into your very essence. It was impossible to escape.
As the last of the air in your lungs was burned up she pulled back, leaving you burned out and hollow. Your eyes flew open as consciousness slowly slipped away to witness the terrible burning glory of her (the sun, my sun). You watched the liquid flames that swirled around in her, pulses of both beautiful and terrifying molten gold shooting through her veins, the way the air wavered around her; her blinding form imprinted into your eyes. She let you go with a laugh, neither cruel nor kind, your mortal body (weak, disgusting and human) crumbling onto the ground as ash. One fleeting thought crossed your mind before you succumbed to the darkness:
How grossly incandescent you are, my Sun...
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