Ryan loses himself in that burn. It addles his mind, destroying his reason, until there is only Alex and the fire. He’s never been so hot before; it’s worse than a fever, worse than being burned alive, and Alex is the only way out of it.
Later, he will remember what instinct is like and how it took him over. But now, all he knows is the salt-tang sweat on Alex’s white skin, the shuddering gasps (and he doesn’t know who makes them) and the frenetic, stuttering motions. There are fumbled words, lost in kisses, and he will never remember what they were until he manages the obligatory:
“Turn over.”
And Alex does, without any hesitation, eyes glazed and the sweat making his hair damp and obedient. He turns over, lets Ryan do what he wants, and if the fire is too hot on the outside then it’s unbearable on the inside, and Ryan isn’t sure which one of them gasps louder when he sets off the electrical shortage that gives the stuttering some kind of rhythm.