Velga
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Good Healer
🕑 Added 2025-02-22 16:21:33 +0000 UTCChapter 9.1: Kiss of Healing**
"Thank you, Dray," she said softly, her eyes shining with relief and gratitude. "I don't know what I would do without you."
Kray swallowed hard, his heart still racing from the brief but electrifying touch of her lips on his skin. "I'm just glad I could help," he managed, striving for a light tone even as his mind reeled. Elara Leanor, the unattainable farm girl of his dreams, had just kissed him. Voluntarily. Of her own free will.
He knew he should say more, make some quip or joke to defuse the charged moment. But he remained tongue-tied, lost in the feel of her lips, the scent of her cinnamon-sweet breath, the radiant smile that had lit up her face after his unconventional healing.
Elara seemed not to notice his flustered state, basking in the relief of her eased breath, her loosened chest. She inhaled deeply again, marveling at the clarity, the fullness of her lungs. "I feel like I could run circles around those cows now," she laughed, and Kray's eyes darted, traitorously, to the swell of her cleavage as her chest lifted and fell with her deep breaths.
He forced his gaze away, clearing his throat. "Well, don't get too excited," he cautioned, aiming for a familiarity he didn't feel. "You should still take it easy for the rest of the day. I'll make you some tea, maybe a light soup to settle your stomach after the congestion."
Elara nodded readily, still glowing. "That sounds perfect, Dray. Your mother's famous medicine soup." She grinned impishly. "Almost as famous as your massage skills, it seems."
Kray's blush deepened but he smiled back, pleased, even as his mind whirred with the implications of her words, her kiss. He hurried to make the tea and soup, stealing glances at her as she rested quietly, her earlier fatigue already fading.
As the sun began to set outside, painting the room in warm, golden tones, Elara finished her meal. "I should get back to the farm," she said reluctantly, stretching. Kray swallowed at the way her shirt rode up, exposing a tantalizing slice of creamy skin. Focus, damn it.
"Of course, I walk you," he offered quickly, before he could stop himself. Elara accepted with a smile and they strolled out into the dusk, a companionable silence settling between them. A charged silence, Kray would have sworn, but perhaps that was his imagination, his perverted hopes.
At the farm gate, Elara paused, turning to face him. The fading light caught her hair like burnished copper, her eyes glimmering. "I really can't thank you enough, Dray," she murmured. "For everything."
And then she was kissing him again, her lips soft but insistent this time, her hands coming up to rest on his chest. Kray froze for a heartbeat then gathered her close, his own hands splaying across her back. She fit perfectly, like she'd been made for him.
The kiss deepened and Kray groaned, desire unfurling in his gut. He walked her backwards until she hit the gatepost, never breaking the seal of their lips. Elara made a small noise, half surprise, half encouragement, and arched into him.
He could feel every curve, every dip and swell of her figure, separated by only the thin fabric of their clothes. His fingers itched to map her, to explore, to tease and caress. Distantly, he knew they were outside, that they could be seen. But her mouth was so sweet, so responsive under his, her body pliant and eager in his arms.
"Elara," he rasped against her lips, "we shouldn't...not here..."
But she just nipped at his bottom lip, her hips pressing more firmly to his. "Don't stop," she breathed. "Please, Dray."
And he was lost. His mouth traveled down her jaw, her throat, the delicate skin flushed and fragrant. She tilted her head back with a sigh, giving him access, her fingers flexing on his shoulders. Kray took advantage, trailing open-mouthed kisses along her neck, her collarbone.
When he reached the swell of her breasts, he couldn't resist. His lips found the tops of her full mounds, exposed by her low neckline. Elara gasped, her head falling back against the gate, and Kray took it as encouragement. He kissed a path into her cleavage, his tongue darting out to taste her.
"Oh!" she exclaimed, her fingers clenching in his hair. Kray glanced up to find her face transformed, her eyes heavy-lidded and dark with want. Emboldened, he nudged her shirt further down, baring the tops of her breasts. They were perfect, full and creamy, begging for his mouth.
He took one nipple between his lips and sucked gently, swirling his tongue. Elara cried out, her back arching, pressing more of her flesh into his eager mouth. She tasted of wildflowers and cinnamon and he groaned at the heady flavor.
His other hand found her free breast, kneading, rolling the sensitive peak between his fingers. Elara panted, undulating against him, her thighs rubbing restlessly together. "Dray," she keened, "I need..."
He knew. Oh gods, he knew. His own need was a throbbing ache, straining against his trousers. But he would not rush this, not when he finally had Elara where he wanted her. He switched to her other breast, suckling firmly as his hand crept under her skirt.
Her thighs fell open in instant welcome, and his fingers skimmed up the soft skin to find her underwear soaked. "Elara," he groaned against her chest. "You're so wet."
She bucked into his hand with a desperate noise, and he stroked her through the fabric, his touch clearly too light. With a low sound, he pushed her underwear aside and touched her directly. Elara came up on her toes with a sharp cry, her head thrashing.
"Shh, I have you," he soothed, even as he circled her sensitive nub, savoring her responsiveness. His fingers were soon coated in her arousal and he used the slickness to slide one long digit inside her. Her inner muscles clenched greedily and he worked her with shallow thrusts, his thumb still circling her clit.
It wasn't long before she was trembling, her thighs starting to quake. "Dray," she panted, her nails scoring down his back. "I...I'm...!"
And then she was coming apart with a choked scream of his name, her sex fluttering around his fingers. Kray worked her through it, gentling his touch as she came down. Her chest was heaving, her face glowing. He felt a rush of masculine pride, seeing her like this. Satisfied. Wanton. His.
Slowly, he withdrew his hand and straightened her clothes. She blinked at him dazedly and he grinned, bringing his coated fingers to his mouth. Her flavor burst on his tongue and he groaned. "Delicious," he purred. "You're delicious, Elara."
A pretty flush stained her cheeks and she eyed his still obvious erection. "I think maybe I should return the favor," she said shyly, her hand coming up to palm him through his trousers. Kray hissed, pressing into her touch. "I would like that very much," he managed.
And so they ended up back in his treatment room, a tangle of eager hands and heated kisses. Elara on her knees, taking him into her hot mouth with a moan of appreciation. Kray lost himself in the wet suction, the rasp of her tongue. When he finally spilled down her throat, he was spent, sated, his world narrowed to the feel of her lips around him.
After, they lay twined together on the floor, naked and lazy. Elara traced idle patterns on his chest, her head pillowed on his shoulder. "That was..." she started, then seemed lost for words. Kray just hummed in agreement, his fingers drifting through her hair.
"What does it mean, Dray?" she asked after a moment, her voice small. "For us, I mean. After this..."
He tilted her chin up, kissing her softly. "It means we're in this together now," he murmured, his eyes serious. "If you want to be."
Elara smiled, a real smile, open and hopeful. "I do. I do want that."
And as their lips met again, Kray thought that maybe this was what all his secret lessons and late night practice had been for. To have Elara in his arms, to be her healer, her lover, whatever she needed. He would gladly spend the rest of his days learning to give her pleasure, in every way she desired.
Their relationship, their unconventional start, blazed to life that dusky autumn evening, and Kray had never been so grateful for a little farm girl’s twisted ankle.
