Healer's Touch

by Kirsten Saell

  As her eyes began to sting, she slipped one hand down between her legs. She was slick and swollen, her labia plump and hypersensitive, her clit a knot of agony. She began to rub, but it was no use. She didn’t want to touch herself. It seemed as if touching herself was all she’d been doing for as long as she could remember.

  With a sigh, she drew her fingers away and clenched her fist. Rolled onto her side and closed her eyes, forcing thoughts of Aru from her head, trying to remember instead the last man she had fucked. She lay there a long time before she finally came up with his name, and his face remained a blank circle in her memory.

  Chapter Three

  Aru let himself in and shut the door silently behind him. Creeping through the front hall to the infirmary, he assured himself that Inella was well, and took note of the two children asleep in the second bed. He stood and listened to the snores emerging from the salon.

  The mother.

  Something brittle inside him cracked and fell away at the thought of what Viera had done, how she had welcomed these people into his home. His eyes burned, his breath coming swift and hard, and he paused, holding his head in his hands until he was once more in control of himself.

  His limbs were steady as he crossed to the stairs. He had half-carried Gil back to his own apartment in a state of inebriation bordering on coma, but it took a very great deal to intoxicate a Darjhan—even a fallen one. Aru’s coins had vanished one by one down Aliannet’s bodice until his purse was empty, and still, he was lamentably sober this night.

  Sober and in pain. Even before he reached the top of the stairs, he was achingly hard, as if all it took was being in the same house with her. On the landing, he stood and stared at her door, then deliberately turned and entered his own room.

  Gods, it was hot up here. With a muttered curse, he opened the window, jerking at the ties of his shirt. He tugged it off over his head and leaned on the window frame to let the chill spring breeze caress his bare torso. Across the street, a pair of whores plied their trade, calling offers to passers by, flashing their breasts at those who showed interest. There was a time when Aru would have watched their games, but he had no stomach for it anymore. His erection was like a steel rod, but it had nothing to do with any woman outside.

  Crossing to the bed, he reached for the buttons of his trousers, but his straining cock reacted with a bolt of pain and a wet surge of fluid.

  “Paldir help me,” he muttered, flopping facedown on the mattress. He closed his eyes, but she was there waiting for him, her pale skin dotted with freckles, her auburn hair like a river of silk pouring over his white hands, her breasts peaked with the dusky pearls of her nipples. Gods, he had seen her naked in all her glory, had sat beside her, one hand on her belly as she writhed and screamed in the extremity of her arousal. He had seen it. He had caused it! It was but a tiny step further down the road to madness to imagine her breasts filling his hands, her nipples pressed between his lips as he suckled her, his cream-slicked fingers sliding high up inside her heat. He groaned at the thought of that pink tongue of hers lapping at his chest, licking a wet trail across his belly and down to his shaft. Her face, smiling up at him as she took him between her sweet lips and sucked him in, hard and deep, her hair spilling across his torso and between his legs.

  Damn. With a start, he realized he was grinding his cock into the mattress. Sitting up, he rubbed his hands up and down his face, hard enough to chafe his skin. He’d never be able to sleep. Downstairs in the kitchen, he had a large cask of mead—the closest thing to hennath he could find in Anduni lands—but he couldn’t fetch himself any without risking waking Inella or her family. And to be honest, he doubted even a river of drink would soften his cock tonight.

  Damn, damn, damn. Rising, he tiptoed to the door and peeked across the landing to Viera’s room. Her door stood ajar, a bar of candlelight slanting across the floorboards. She always left one burning next to the bed, in case a patient needed her in the night. Before Aru realized what he was doing, he was standing just outside her door, peeking in.

  She slept, her hair like a dark cloud against the stark white of the sheets. She wore no shift—the dusky tip of one breast peeked at him over the edge of the blanket, and one long, curvy leg thrust out from the covers. Her bare toes enthralled him—so mundane, yet so delicate. He thought about taking them in his mouth, one by one. She stirred, shifting so that her other breast emerged from under the blanket, and he felt his shaft thicken in response, hardening until he thought his trouser buttons might end up permanently imprinted along its underside.

  Heat flowered from the root of his member to spread its licking fingers all along his limbs. He pressed a hand to it, closing his eyes on a wave of need that left him dizzy. When he opened them, he was somehow standing right beside her bed, looking down on her face.

  And she was looking back up at him, confusion etching a delightful crease between her brows. Her eyes flicked down to his crotch, widening as she took in the state of him. Her gaze might as well have been her fingers—his organ leapt in response and he let out a long, shaky breath.

  So you can never touch a woman again? Gil’s earlier words resounded in his mind as he stared down at Viera in an agony of longing.

  But what if he didn’t touch her? What if he didn’t touch her at all?

  Gods.

  His hand pressed against his shaft through the wool of his trousers, stroking upward the way he wanted her to do. He stared into her eyes, willing her to understand what he needed.

  As if she read his mind, she drew the blanket slowly down, baring herself for him. Her nipples tightened as his gaze raked them, and she drew her fingertips across them, plucking them gently as her breath quickened and deepened. With shaking fingers, he slipped his buttons loose and his cock fell free. He moved to encircle it with his hand, but she shook her head.

  “I want to see it.”

  Trembling, he clenched his hands at his sides and let her look her fill, her gaze like hot liquid bathing the skin of his prick. She stroked him with her gaze until, unable to stop himself, he wrapped his hand tight around his thickness. The slit at the tip released a steady stream of fluid. He caught it on the pad of his thumb and spread it all along his shaft, slicking himself, wishing it was her own sweet honey.

  “Let me see you,” he said, taken aback by the hoarseness of his voice.

  Her lips curled upward, that sly little smile that never failed to make his belly flip over inside him. She slid her hands lovingly down her own torso and onto her inner thighs. As if they were a lover’s hands, they pulled her legs wide apart, until all her secrets were there for him to see. He stared at the undulating hollows where the tops of her thighs met her abdomen, at the tightly curled, glistening wet hair that lined her womanhood, at the engorged flesh of her labia, puffy and pink. At the pink bead of her clit, the center of her pleasure, standing stiff and straining to be touched. The entrance to her tunnel beckoned, its walls sealed against each other, seeping translucent white fluid even as he watched. That was the place he wanted to touch her, more than anything in the world. He wanted to bury himself there, to sink into her honeyed depths and lose himself, and never be found again.

  His hand worked his cock, stroking up and down in a steadily increasing rhythm. The scent of her arousal, a rich, earthy musk, filled the small space they inhabited, mingling with the bittersweet redolence of his seed. Her hands stroked and skimmed back up the softness of her belly and over her ribs to cup her breasts. She palmed the heavy mounds, massaging from the outside inward, finishing at the rigid points of her nipples. With deft fingertips, she drew them into longer, firmer peaks, teasing them until he wondered how she didn’t go mad from it.

  His eyes met hers.

  “Put your fingers inside yourself,” he rasped, quivering as his cock released another surge of fluid.

  She wet her lips, and he imagined her tongue dipping into the slit of his cock, exploring the tiny opening. Her fingers crept slowly, torturously toward her o
pen cunt. As he watched, she slid the forefingers of both hands into her furrow and spread it wider, showing him her engorged inner lips. Slowly, as if moving through water, she pushed one finger into her hole, then drew it out again. A second finger joined the first for the next thrust, and her back arched up to meet it.

  “Is that where you want them?” she asked, sliding them in and out while he watched, mesmerized.

  He glanced at her face, not understanding. “Where else?”

  She laughed, low and throaty. “Ah, Aru, for such an old man, you don’t know much at all.” And as he looked on, transfixed, a single finger of her other hand crept down toward her other hole, tiny and puckered, a place he hadn’t ever conceived could be put to such a use.

  He moved to the foot of the bed to get a better view, his hand working up and down his cock the entire while. She lifted her knees and splayed her legs wide so he could see everything. She now had three fingers inside her beautiful cunt, pumping in and out, glistening with the evidence of her excitement. And now the cream-slicked tip of that other, renegade digit slipped inside the tight ring of her anus. Her eyes drifted shut, her back lifting off the mattress, her entire body drawn taut, glowing in the candlelight.

  “What does it feel like?” he whispered, hardly a breath of sound.

  Her finger slid a little deeper. “Mmmmm, full. It feels full and tight and stretched. It hurts, but at the same time it feels so good. Better than anything. Ah god.”

  He could feel his balls snug up against his body, readying for the explosion he desperately needed. Part of him couldn’t believe what he was doing, masturbating in front of her, watching her do to herself all the things he wanted so badly to do to her. He imagined his cock embedded deep in her cunt, then, as a wave of heat crashed over him, he thought of that other small hole, how tight and smooth it would feel around his thickness. She continued to fuck herself with clever fingers, her eyes now fixed on his cock, her breath hissing in and out of her parted lips. He knew her arousal was as real as his. The scent of her cream and her musk-laden sweat filled his nostrils. With his sharp Darjhian eyes he could see every wide-open blood vessel just beneath her skin, every follicle standing on its end, the rapid flutter of the pulse at the side of her neck. He could feel her heat radiating across the small space that separated them, hot as burning coals.

  “God, Aru,” she said, pushing that one, wicked finger in to the last knuckle, even as the thumb of her other hand pressed down hard on the button of her clit. “I need to taste you. I need you in my mouth. If not your cock, then your come. God, please, let me taste you.”

  “Paldir help me!” he hissed as every nerve in his body overloaded and his cock erupted in one long, rolling, blissful spasm. His come sailed in streaking white arcs to spatter on her splayed thighs. At its first touch, she arched, her body bucking and shuddering, and he watched, amazed, as her cunt and her anus simultaneously clamped down hard on her fingers, over and over, grasping at them as if to pull them deeper in.

  As her body jerked, she slid her fingers free of her cunt and trailed them through the milky puddles of his come. Smiling in smug satisfaction, she lifted them to her lips and tasted his essence and her own, commingled.

  He stood at the foot of her bed, his legs shaking, every inch of his body in a state of sated contentment. As her breathing calmed, she opened her eyes and smiled up at him, closing her legs demurely. She sat up, her movements graceful and sensual, and reached out with one hand. For a single, horror-filled moment, he thought she was reaching for him, that she had gotten the wrong idea, that she believed they could be together, and he had no clue what he could ever say to her to make things right. He gaped at her, knowing the depth of her feelings for him, and understood when he rejected her, as he must, she would hate him for it.

  Then her hand closed on the rumpled edge of the blanket and she drew it up over herself. Her smile remained as lazy and content as before.

  “Good night, Aru,” she said, rolling onto her side and closing her eyes.

  He blinked, unable to move, unable to carry himself past her easy dismissal of what they’d shared. She opened one eye and saw him still standing there.

  “Would you open the window a little before you go?” she asked, yawning.

  With trembling fingers, he refastened his trousers and walked woodenly to the window. He pushed it open a crack and turned back to the bed. She lay there, already tumbling over the gentle verge of slumber, that smug smile still tugging at the corners of her lips.

  With a scowl, he went back to his own empty room and slid into bed. His body vibrated with fulfillment, his cock lying replete and quiescent against his thigh. He closed his eyes.

  Hours later, dawn spread its coral fingers across the sky outside his open window, and Aru still had not found sleep.

  Chapter Four

  Viera was in the kitchen, humming a tune from her girlhood and shoveling fried egg-bread, bacon and barley porridge into the two children, when Aru finally deigned to come downstairs. Her stomach leapt when she saw him checking on Inella through the open door of the infirmary. She watched him from the corner of her eye, noted the downward turn of his mouth and the pale, purple-gray circles beneath his eyes. Her smile widened. A rough night for the healer.

  Viera, on the other hand, had slept the sleep of the innocent, dreamless and deep, and had awakened this morning with a newfound optimism. Aru’s visit to her room last night was the single, most exciting sexual encounter of her life. With the weight of his gaze on her, her own touch had become the perfect proxy for his hands on her body, and his cock stroking deep inside her heat.

  She shook her head as blood rushed to her hairline, and turned back to the stove so the children wouldn’t see her stupid grin. She was no stranger to masturbation. Her sexual appetites had always been extreme, and even in her line of work, she had sometimes required the attentions of her own fingers to find release. But touching herself had never felt so intense, so pleasurable, so thrilling as it had last night, with him watching. God, just the sight of him—the flawless skin of his torso, smooth and taut over layered muscle and sinew, the thickness of his cock, pale and hard as polished marble under his stroking fingers. His body so different from that of an Anduni man, hairless and firm, his flesh unblemished, his nipples like dark berries against the white expanse of his chest. His eyes were hard and bright as gemstones—topaz and obsidian—glittering in the candle’s glow as he sought out all her secrets. And when his come had spattered her thighs, an orgasm took her that had shaken her right down to her toes.

  She wondered how much better it would be with Aru’s own hands stroking her, his lips on her own, on her cunt, his cock buried deep inside her. And she planned to find out. Aru might not know it yet, but he was already hers. His visit last night had given her the perfect opportunity to seduce him, and she was not disposed to let it pass her by. By the time she was finished with him, he’d be her willing slave.

  She didn’t hear him enter—he could move in total silence when he wished—but she could feel him behind her, his presence like trailing fingers on the nape of her neck. She struggled to wipe the smug grin from her lips and turned. His scowl had not moved, and his gaze slid past her as if it would not be caught.

  “Your eyes are weird!” Vin observed loudly around a mouthful of honey-soaked egg-bread.

  Viera slapped a hand to her mouth, but the laugh was out before she could snatch it back. Aru’s glance flicked to her face, then away.

  Krista glowered at her brother. “Vin!”

  Vin stuck his bottom lip out. “Well, they are.”

  “How are they weird?” Aru asked, a thread of weary amusement working its way into his tone. He sat opposite Vin and gave him a stare that would have had most people running for the door.

  Vin just grinned and stuck his tongue out at his sister. “They’re different colors,” he told Aru.

  “Ah, but among my people, it is those with eyes of the same color who are unusual.”

/>   “Really?” Vin seemed skeptical.

  Aru placed his hand over his heart. “On my honor.”

  “Oh.”

  Viera set a platter of egg-bread and bacon in front of Aru. He took a honey-soaked slab in his fingers and devoured it as if starving.

  “My gram says you’re fallen,” Vin announced.

  “Vin!” Krista shrilled, her eyes flying in horror to Aru’s face.

  Aru just winked at her before turning back to Vin. “Your gram is correct.”

  “Oh,” said Vin. “What’s fallen mean?”

  “It means I am in dishonor, and have lost my immortality.”

  “Oh,” said Vin. “What’s immortality mean?”

  “It means living forever, stupid!” Krista snapped, rolling her eyes.

  Vin waited for Aru’s nod of confirmation before replying. “Oh. Why are you in this honor?”

  “It’s dishonor, stupid!” Krista wailed in exasperation, shoving to her feet and stomping out.

  Vin seemed unfazed by her scorn, and altogether pleased by her departure. He turned once more to Aru. “Why are you—”

  Aru laughed and held up a hand to stop him. “I committed a very great sin against my god, and to punish me, he took my immortality away.”

  “Oh. What sin? Did you fornicate?”

  Aru’s eyes flew to Viera’s face as his cheeks filled with color. She swallowed a knot of dismay. “Vin,” she said calmly, “who taught you that word?”

  “Our neighbor, Damina. She said my mum’s a whore and a sinner, because she fornicates for money. But she wouldn’t tell me what it means. Do you know what fornicate means?”

  Viera fought down a surge of anger, heat rising to the roots of her hair and her hands clenching into fists at her sides. “Damina is wrong,” she said very firmly, “and I would suggest you do not listen to her anymore. Nothing your mother has to do to put food in your belly is a sin, do you understand?”

  At last Vin seemed to realize he might be on thin ice. His eyes dropped to his mostly empty platter. “Oh.”