The smell of burning flesh is...intriguing. Enticing. Arousing.
The way the flames lick her hot body. A lick at the ankles and she feels the heat on her neck. He watches, wide-eyed and paralyzed, watches the tongue move up her calves, painfully slow as it roams her supple thighs, the heat of the fire matching the heat in her crotch. The room is ablaze, but this ritualistic fascination keeps them cold in their motions. Her skin is crawling, her skin is peeling, his senses are wired, his urge rising with the beat of the hiss in every next stroke along her glazed physique.
Bodies join, and the heat rises a thousand degrees. The union breaks, and all energy is spent. Frigid breaths put the fire out, and the beat is never the same again.