Official Description: An artist who cannot feel. A subject that fights not to. An erotic mystery about love, loss and the intense yearning to be consumed. AH/M for erotic themes.
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I started reading one of 107yearoldvirgin’s stories about about a month ago, that was quickly followed by every other story she posted on fanfiction.net. She instantly became one of my favorites and I got pretty excited when the first chapter appeared in my inbox, then imagine my surprise when ten minutes later the next six chapters were there too. I read the description and it was so different from everything else she had posted, but I had no doubt that it would be good too.
That first chapter…I was fucking hooked. Edward’s appearance is very brief and it makes him all the more mysterious.
My favorite chapter at the moment has to be the third one. It is home to one of the most powerful lines in the story so far:
“Close your eyes. Count to ten. If it hurts, start again.”
Then she takes you through a multitude of emotions.
“Lying back down on my back, I stared upward to the ceiling. the house was quiet and I listened until I could hear the buzzing of electricity in the air. A ringing began and I closed my eyes, conjuring up what that sound must look like.
A flat line.
That line was red. It was the last signal that life had finally left your body.”
You are starting feel sad and sort of heartbroken for Edward, then with the next few lines you start actually thinking about.
“The sound always left me wondering about that last moment. What did one see or he? How was it to know that your last breath and your soul were leaving your body?”
Then with these lines you start falling in love with them:
“It was that simple word. I’d hurt her and instinctively I apologized, shifting forward too quickly and wrapping my arms around her to hoist her up into my arms. She was cradled against my chest and I was trying to create a barrier between her and the water, but her head had lolled back a bit, her hair wet and tangled, hanging across my arm while I gazed down at her face.”
By the end of the chapter you are crying again.
The fourth and fifth might be the most important chapters though…you know what? It is best if you just read it for yourself. There is nothing I can write that could possibly compare to what this story would do to you. You can’t read about reading it, this is definitely a story you have to experience for yourself.
The mystery of it all makes you think, but her writing makes you feel. It is a story based on feeling and every chapter takes you into the story and makes you feel what these characters are feeling. When you read this story, you are more than just reading.
It’s already a given that if 107yearoldvirgin writes something, I’m going to read it, and without a doubt love it. It’s not just because I think she’s fuckawesome, which she is, it’s because she continues to come up with stories that make me feel an array of emotions, and have me begging for more at the end of each chapter. Heat of a Blue Flame is no exception.
The beauty of the writing, and the characters is visible in every word.
His thumbs brushed against the front of my neck and I sighed, my eyes fluttering closed briefly. And then his palms slid lower and he had hold of my breasts, his thumbs tracing the underside and over until they hovered above my nipples.
My impulses made my hands fly up to his, settling them flush against my chest as I felt the solidity of his fingers under my own, pressed against me so intimately in this environment and immediately a new type of want invaded my senses.
He didn’t speak, just kneaded gently; watching my face as my cheeks grew hotter and my lips opened slightly, my eyelids drooping under the…pleasure.
No one uses descriptions like 107yearoldvirgin It’s so fitting that this story revolves around an Edward and Bella who want to feel, and that’s exactly what this fic has the reader doing.
“Bella…” I warned and she let her hand fall back down to her side. “This isn’t about your face. Not about your eyes. This is about how your body reacts to what I’m doing to you. Understand?”
She nodded slightly and I raised the ice above her stomach, letting the freezing cold water trickle over the swell of her abdomen. The flesh on her stomach rose in tiny bumps, reacting to the cold and I took the camera remote in my hand, retracing the hand with ice above the lines I’d created.
It’s already obvious, even after only seven chapters, that there are going to be some ups and downs in this one. I for one am more than ready to tag along. Join Me?
Right from the beginning, this story is compelling. We don’t know anything about Edward, except that he’s an enigmatic photographer. Their first meeting is intriguing and leaves me curious.
She had no idea where we were going.
What we would accomplish in this.
She had no idea.
Plutchik’s theory pinpointed eight basic emotions and eight advanced emotions. According to his wheel, they overlapped to make even more intense feelings emerge. He speculated that all emotions vary in their degree of similarity to one another. That each emotion can exist in varying degrees of intensity or levels of arousal.
That intensity was what I yearned for. What I craved.
So we would begin to study.
Obviously, I am going to read and love anything that 107yearoldvirgin writes, but this story–this story–is so much more. It’s dramatic and mysterious and so, so hot:
Her breathing accelerated and she let her lips part, open and parched.
Lifting up slightly, I took my cold, damp finger and ran it gingerly over her lower lip. Immediately her tongue flicked out and ran over the wetness I’d applied there, the heat of her mouth instantly warming my chilled digit.
I was hitting the remote without even thinking about it now. The lights flashing and her breathing, mixed with the synth of the song, were making me lose my center of attention. I leaned in over her, my face mere inches from her chest as I placed one lone ice cube in her belly button.
Her stomach tightened, the muscles flexing and contracting as she tried to adapt to the cold.
Blowing across her hips, I clicked off more pictures, knowing full well that I was getting exactly the response I was hoping for. Her thighs shifted again and her fingers splayed open on the rug before digging into the soft fur.Water pooled around the cube melting in her belly button and I noted when she shook slightly, causing the fluid to run down her sides, sliding and dripping across her hips into the fur.
More pictures. More flashes of soft light while I stared at her.
Crawling towards her face, I took another cube in my hand and squeezed it before allowing my face to hover above her own. With precision, I pressed the cold, wet cube to her neck and felt myself grow excited when she let out a whimper.
My lips were just above hers and I could feel the rushed air escaping them while I clicked away, letting picture after picture fill my roll. She wriggled slightly and I let my nose touch hers lightly, relishing the feel of heat rolling from her lips.
“Who are you, Bella Swan?” I whispered above her lips.
One of the things I like so much about this story is the way she describes everything–it’s almost like you’re there, experiencing it for yourself. I also love that Bella allows Edward to push her limits a bit, but isn’t afraid to assert herself. Both of them have pasts, both of them want to feel. Heat of a Blue Flame is one of my favorite stories, and I really hope that you’ll check it out.
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