kissing death and loosing my breath

Unlike perhaps my charge, I was hardly as worried regarding my potions capabilities to heal his wounds. It was true that this was hardly going to be an easy process for him, of that I was certain and it was perhaps that reason why most people chose to not turn to my magic for their physical ailments. In fact, the ones that we most often got were the cases were science had proved ineffective or turned it's back upon them. Cancer? No problem. I have a cure for that. HIV? If you're willing to open a vein for me, I can fix that too. Despite my ability to cure, such brews and salves hardly came without a cost. All magic had strings attached. That was a lesson I had learned at an early age. Thankfully for him, this tiny little thread was vastly more bearable then some of the things I'd requested from my cliental. I watched him in silence as he tipped his head backward, exposing the flesh of his jugular and I watched as he swallowed the rest of what I had carefully crafted for him. It was a start. What was about to happen next, however, was going to be a whole different beast to conquer.

Tentatively, I leaned forward, my fingers covered with the green goop I had just crafted from various plants and minerals. I couldn't say that this wasn't my least favorite part of the whole process. I didn't particularly enjoy causing pain to others, but it was a necessary part of my work and Karel had seen to it long ago that my heart had been hardened against such empathy. Without any further hesitation, I reached out to touch his flesh, immediately hearing the hiss of his breath leaving his lips. See - I warned you. My gaze glanced downwards as I worked the salve into his skin and the bruise that existed upon the flesh, I noted acutely the fashion at which his fingers dug into his palms, as if he was trying to distract himself from the pain that I was causing him. I had to admit I felt bad about this - more so then usual. Perhaps it was simply that I kind of liked the guy (I mean he did take me out on my first date). Whatever it was, I found myself yearning to soothe that which I wrought upon his body.

My lips pressed together momentarily as I considered my options. I couldn't simply stop what I was doing, this was far too important to his heeling process and the more I watched his features, the more I couldn't continue to squash those butterflies that fluttered somewhere deep and hot within my chest. Of course I knew that I was using this whole healing process to be close to him. He seemed so...saturated in his own agony to notice my figure leaning closer into him. It was that tantalizing memory of the sensation of his lips softly against mine in the kiss that I stole that caused my sweetheart lips to once again travel to places they shouldn't. I felt his flesh against my touch as I kissed it, apologizing in my own way for every touch of torture I was causing him. The whole process became something automatic, my fingers slipping from his flesh to my salve and back again, massaging the color away, working the blood back to where it belonged, soothing the muscles that existed just under his skin and all the while my lips brushed upward from the base of his neck to his jawline.

I heard the sweet breath on his lips and realized in that moment how much I yearned to make him groan from my actions. He was an enigma in the night, a god amongst my dreams and I wanted to hear my name upon his lips. He tipped his head backwards, giving me better access to his neck and I was all too willing to continue what I was doing with that small gesture of encouragement. My gaze shifted momentarily to the work my fingers were doing and suddenly I noticed that there was another bruise that had previously escaped my attention. The beginning of the purple-yellow rim could just barely be seen above his pant line, extending downward beneath his jeans and to his hips. I pulled my hand away from the wound on his arm, my fingers dipping once more into my dwindling creation. I grabbed a healthy amount, the substance even getting under my nails (to my eternal dread).

Apart of me doubted he would appreciate this. Another part hoped he might enjoy the places my hand would go. I was all too aware to just how close I was about to be to....other parts of his body but I was far to shy to even consider touching...that yet. It was that knowledge that I was about to impede upon a very...personal zone that caused me to take my kisses a step further. My mouth parted, my teeth biting into his neck, sucking gingerly upon the flesh there. I let my tongue brush against his flesh, hoping to create a mark I'd only seen in movies or heard my peers talk of in hushed words. At the exact same moment, and with the salve cupped in my hand, I nestled my fingers between the line of his undergarments and jeans, pushing my hand downwards beneath his pants and towards his hip. I had no sight to go on, no knowledge of what wound existed down there and it was that which caused my grey eyes to glance upwards at his face, relying entirely upon the way his body would react to guide me to where he needed me most.