The Healer's Touch
by The Tome of Ebon: /~Tome_of_Ebon/
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Mar 19, 2011

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This story contains descriptions of an adult nature.  If you are a minor or
person offended by such materials, you should not read further.  This
story does not necessarily reflect any people or practices in the real
world, and should not be taken as reality.

Codes: MF, oral, magic, viol, caution

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The battlefield was eerily quiet, the victors having moved on, the defeated
scattered and in retreat, both having taken as much as they could get away
with from those fallen before abandoning the place. Bodies of orcs and humans
lay strewn about, some dead, some dying, scavenging creatures not yet
disturbing their repose. Only one figure walked upright through the
destruction, her golden-blonde hair spilling around pointed ears and catching
the light of the afternoon sun as she picked her way through the scatter of
fallen men, pausing briefly to look at one here and there. The elven cloak
that rendered her invisible when drawn close was at this time draped loosely
instead, leaving her unhidden; the elf felt comfortable enough without its
protection for now.

Lystin sighed slightly. She scarcely approved of the carnage, but at least the
humans had been fighting orcs instead of each other. She wasn't a soldier,
herself; she had no allegiance to either side, though she regarded the fallen
orcs with a scowl of contempt as she passed. Her craft was a different one, a
craft of restoring wounds to health rather than causing them.

Pausing over one of the men, Lystin crouched and ran her hand lightly over his
chest, peering down at him intently. He was still warm, still breathing,
though blood was crusted on the studded leather armor that he wore, blood that
could not all be that of others. The soldier was stockier and hairier than the
elven-folk Lystin grew up with, but he was not unappealing, she decided. He
tried to rise when he saw her standing over him, but she held up a hand,
murmuring in what she knew of the tongue of his kingdom, "Relax."

Kneeling, Lystin carefully began to unfasten the soldier's bloodied leather
armor, trying to move him as little as possible. He was clearly just a low
footman, but Lystin didn't care. He looked like he was strong when in good
health, and with wounds that he could survive with her help, though not
without it. That was what she looked for. She felt no remorse when passing by
the dying orcs, giving only a hateful glare to the one that reached a wavering
hand towards her with a bestial groan of suffering, but humans she did not
mind helping, so long as they did not serve crowns hostile to her people and
their forests. Plus, the look of this man's face was pleasing to her. It would
make the task much more pleasant for her, if nothing else. His warm brown eyes
closed momentarily as he let out a shuddering sigh of half-repressed pain,
trying to look stoic for the mysterious elf-maid who leaned over him.

The gesture wasn't necessary, but it made her smile a little. With graceful,
gentle hands, she caressed the military cut of his dark hair and then made him
as comfortable as she could while stripping him naked, carefully drawing the
damaged armor and rent tunic away from his wound so that she could inspect it
more carefully. New blood emerged despite the care taken, but Lystin didn't
waver, taking a cloth from her pack and wetting it with liquid from one of the
bottles she carried alongside it, gently beginning to wipe down the gash,
making the man wince as he watched her hazily, as if unsure whether what he
saw was real. He tried to speak, but she lay a finger lightly to his lips,
shaking her head.

Lystin didn't stop at disrobing the man's torso, but carefully bared his feet,
legs and loins as well, inspecting each revealed part with a keen eye. She
breathed lightly on the man's shaft, watching it with curiosity in her
turquoise eyes—he was large even for a human, and to the lithe little elf he
seemed quite big indeed. Gently, one hand circled his cock, drawing a
surprised gasp from him. Her other hand caressed him as well, tracing fingers
ever so lightly over his wounds as her eyes lidded, her focus turning inwards
to draw the magical energy from the core of her being, a pleasant, tingling
flow of power rising to her fingers, warm and living. A slight wince crossed
his lips as she touched the largest injury, beginning to let her power flow
into the wounded flesh.

"Shhhh..." she responded, caressing his hair once again before letting the
hand circle around his shaft once more, gently coaxing. As both her slender
hands continued to stroke him, she could see the grimace on his face
softening. She smiled, knowing that she was easing his pain, the cuts in his
flesh slowly closing until she could stroke over them directly with light,
nimble fingertips, without causing him to flinch. Murmuring melodically to
assist her focus, she continued to work her healing magic into his wounds,
smiling as he began to relax more fully. Soon, the seeping of fresh blood that
stained her fingers ceased, her lips pursed with concentration in between
soft, whispered chants.

The man slowly grew erect, a moan in his throat as he turned his head to one
side, then the other, and Lystin smiled. This was a part of her art, and his
response was a good sign that her patient would recover. Gently, she rubbed
the solidifying shaft in her hand while her other hand caressed lightly over
his injuries, leaning close and watching. She'd learned everything her mentors
could teach about making her patients comfortable, including this aspect of
her treatments.

"Yesss..." she whispered to him, lapsing into elven speech as she leaned close
to his face as she continued to stroke his now-steely shaft, "Show me what
pleasure that big cock of yours can feel... show me how much life it's full
of."

If he couldn't understand the words, he at least understood the tones of voice
of a woman who wanted to draw his seed. His cock, already fully erect in the
firm but gentle grip of elven fingers, gave a heave of anticipation in lieu of
growing further. With a sweet elven giggle, Lystin rolled his foreskin the
rest of the way back from the head of his shaft; a shiny purple-red dome that
stood filled with desire as her fingertip touched it lightly.

Lightly, she trailed kisses down his abdomen, teasing, letting the foreskin
cover his cock's swollen head as her hand moved upwards, then gently stroking
down so that it was again fully exposed to her gaze. She kissed its tip three
times, softly and sensually, her eyes veiled behind a lattice of long lashes
as the flesh of her lips caressed that of his glans. Her tongue scouted out
the shape of that fleshy cock-head, tickling the little opening from which she
hoped his seed would issue, then tracing the circumference of the exposed
crown.

Drawing her head back, she tossed her hair out of the way and stroked him with
her hands again, one stroking the new scar of his wound, the other, firmer
this time, gliding up and down his heated shaft.

Once again she lowered her head. Gently, she placed her lips around the tip of
his cock, letting her succulent flesh caress him ever so sweetly. The tip of
her tongue traced every vein and detail with meticulous attention, his musky
taste in her mouth as her soft hair trailed down to tickle against his thighs
and stomach. She moved her head up and down slowly, letting the lush glossy
flesh of her lips drag over his shaft as he let out a long, low groan, more of
pleasure than of pain. She allowed herself a moment to smile, knowing that he
was beginning to recover, then kissed the head of his cock warmly before
sliding her mouth around it once more.

His body tensed slightly, hips shifting a little, and she moved to grip his
thighs with her slender hands as she took the shaft deeper into her mouth,
savoring the long moan that rose from his throat as her tongue continues to
play across his rigid flesh. With a contented hum of her own, she let her head
bob up and down, one hand gently caressing his heavy balls, her eyes closing.

Attentively, she focused on pleasuring him to the best of her ability,
stroking his thighs and his warm sac, elegant ears listening to the sounds he
made as her touches coaxed and reassured him. His eyes were closed, lips
smiling slightly in between moans and gasps as the elf's mouth moved along his
shaft expertly, licking and suckling. His shaft throbbed in her warm, caring
mouth, responding to the stroke of her tongue around the edge of its head. At
length, she felt that he was nearing his climax, sensing it in the tensions of
his muscles as she stroked him, in the urgency of his moans.

"Spurt in my mouth! Please! It will be okay!" she coaxed as her mouth popped
off of his shaft, one hand rubbing eagerly up and down the length while she
laid the other on the wound she had tended to, focusing the energy she would
capture from his release there. Her cheeks flushed slightly as she noted that
she was creamy with desire at the thought of drawing this unknown soldier's
seed, having particularly enjoyed treating this one.

He groaned again, the sound laden with pleasure as his cock heaved in the
elf's hand, throbbing, then gushing, jets of thick semen spouting forth into
the waiting mouth as she leaned in to clamp her lips around the head of his
cock, catching all of his hot sperm in her mouth and swallowing it with an
audible gulp. She took in last drop of the man's seed, licking her glossy lips
sensually as he gazed hazily at the sweet elven vision before him. Lystin
smiled and kissed the tip of his cock softly, drawing away the last bead of
semen there, gratefully swallowing his sperm. He'd shot a big load for her;
that was a good sign, Lystin knew. He'd be hale and hearty again in good time.

Running a hand over the man's forehead, Lystin whispered a few quiet words of
a spell to induce sleep for an hour or two, so that he would rest and not seek
to follow after her as he might otherwise. He watched her hazily as she tucked
him carefully into what bedding she could salvage for him. His eyes closed
then, and he slept with a smile upon his face; perhaps he would think that the
elf healer who had come to him was only a dream. She stroked his hair once,
still tasting a trace of his semen in her mouth, or thinking she did. Content
that he was on the mend, she turned away, walking across the battlefield once
more with a smile on her face. Some healers might have called for gold, or at
least thanks. Lystin, though, was content with the memory of his pleasured
face as she'd treated him, a memory that would serve her well once she was
alone and in need of her own relief. That was reward enough for her. 

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