By the end of it, it felt like his own voice was choking him, drowning him in the bitter, horrifying shamefulness of its truth. Because it had all been true, every single sordid word of it, and now Eft would finally leave him, would walk away forever, and…
“Do you mind if I touch you again, then, to address some of this?” came Eft's voice, quiet. “Is there anywhere you’d rather I didn’t?”
He indeed hadn’t quite touched Kesst, but that was still a very light, very tentative brush of magic against his bare shoulder. And Kesst’s shivering gasp betrayed even more of his towering shame, his taint, his weak, wretched guilt.
“I told you, I don’t care,” he gritted out, into the bed. “Do whatever the hell you want.”
He could hear Eft’s exhale, could feel it on his skin. Followed by the warm touch of Eft’s hand, so careful, so gentle, as his fingers spread wide against Kesst’s upper back, his magic again spiralling familiar and deep.
It focused on Kesst’s original chest wound first, on where there was indeed a renewed throbbing pain, no doubt thanks to Skald’s rough, careless handling. And as Eft kept working, Kesst could almost taste his anger rising again, threading through his magic — but that hand just kept staying, kept fixing, kept healing. Until the pain in Kesst’s chest had finally faded altogether, and the magic flicked to what was likely the worst bruise, curling around his neck.
And again, it was so pathetic, and so shameful, but Kesst still found himself sinking into it, settling, relaxing. His frantic, miserable thoughts slowly quieting, calming, as the pain kept fading, flickering away. As Eft moved his way down his body, steady and methodical, with still no censure, and no judgement.
“Why are you still doing this,” Kesst finally mumbled, into his arm. “You know I don’t deserve this. I’m a —”
“Kesst,” Eft cut in, his magic flaring, his voice shuddering into Kesst’s bones. “Enough of that, all right? You deserve all the help I can give you. And I want to help. However I can.”
Kesst choked a disbelieving laugh, shaking his head into his arm. “That’s such a load of rubbish,” he bit out. “Did you nothearwhat I called you up there? I said you were hideous, and stuffy, and stodgy, and stubborn, and smelly. That you have no manners, and no sense. That it was nowonderyou’d never been touched before!”
But to Kesst’s astonishment, that might have actually been a hint of a wry chuckle, shuddering Eft's touch against him. “Well, luckily, I already knew you thought all that about me,” he replied. “So it wasn’t as though I was shocked, all right?”
Gods, thishealer, because suddenly something had viciously wrenched in Kesst’s belly, while his eyes prickled painfully into his arm. “But you know,” he whispered back, before he could possibly stop it, “I didn’t — I don’t meanallof it. Don’t think all that about you.”
His face was burning against his arm, his throat swallowing, and it was so mortifying, so fucking ridiculous — but Eft just kept touching him, healing him, keeping that promise.
“Is that so?” Eft asked, his voice far lighter than it had any right to be. “Let me guess, then. You definitely still think I’m stodgy and stuffy, right? And stubborn?”
Kesst heard himself betray a muffled huff, but couldn’t otherwise speak, and Eft’s fingers drummed a little against him. “And I don’t have much time for manners, that’s true,” he continued. “Or sense, apparently, either, based on how I escalated things up there today.”
His voice had lowered at that part, his fingers spreading wider against Kesst’s back, his magic now curling against one of the scrapes Skald’s claws had made. “I’m truly sorry about that, by the way,” he added, his voice even lower. “I’m sorry you had to step in to cover for my stupidity. It was very, very generous of you, and I won’t forget it. Thank you.”
Kesst couldn’t speak now, just shaking his head, fighting to swallow over the clog in his throat. And Eft’s hand slid up and down his back a little, perhaps not even healing now, but just caressing, fluttering his magic deep within. “And I won’t ever put you at risk like that again, either,” he whispered. “I promise, Kesst.”
Curse this healer, making these cursed promises again, and reinforcing them with that hard purpose in his voice, with the stunning reassurance of his magic and his touch. This cursed healer, making Kesst believe him, making Kesst long for him, like he’d never longed for anything in his life.
“Definitely still no sense, though,” Kesst somehow made his hoarse voice reply. “And no sense of self-preservation, either. Or taste.”
And oh, Eft was still just stroking him like that, his magic wheeling a little wider, a little further downwards. “Hey,” he murmured, as that hand slid even lower, very close to the curve of Kesst’s bare arse. “I may not be much to look at — or smell — but I’ll have you know, I haveexcellenttaste.”
And he was doing it again, Kesst was dangerously close to weeping again, shaking his head against his arm. “Rubbish again, Eft,” he breathed. “Toallof that.”
Eft’s touch against him had stilled, surely taking that for what it was — for an admission, blatant and shameful, that Kesstdidlike looking at him, and smelling him, and feeling him like this. Feeling this… ease. This… safety.
But then Eft cleared his throat, something shifting in his magic, in his touch. “Are you sure you want me to keep going?” he said, his voice thick. “Healing you, I mean?”
Right. Because his hand was still hesitating there, just edging toward Kesst’s bare arse. Toward where Skald had done all he’d done, leaving Kesst admittedly tender and sore, both inside and out.
“Of course I want you to keep going,” Kesst confessed, into the safety of his arm. “But I’ll warn you, I’ll probably enjoy it, so…”
There was an odd little quiver in Eft’s magic, surely about to finally pull away, to be finished with this — and then, unbelievably, a purposeful twitch of his hand downwards. Curving over Kesst’s bare arse-cheek with a slow, deliberate gentleness, while his impossible magic spun and sparkled within.
Kesst’s gasp was harsh, reflexive, deeply betraying — but oh, that only seemed to encourage it, the magic swirling with even more stunning, staggering purpose than before. That hand sliding up and down and sideways, caressing the inflamed skin, leaving it whole and prickling in his wake. Even slipping down to Kesst’s thighs, now, nudging close between but not quite, and Kesst had to fight the urge to strain back, to part his legs, to know what that wouldfeellike…
But then Eft moved up again, a little slower this time, more purposeful. Now easing carefully over Kesst’s crease, while his magic kept delving closer, deeper. Finally focusing on where it felt the most tender, and also — gods damn it — on where it felt best. On where Skald had filled him with both agony and ecstasy, but this —
Another muffled groan escaped Kesst’s choked throat, because this — this — was only ecstasy. Sheer, shouting, barrelling ecstasy, swallowing everything else in its strength. Eft’s magic wasinsidehim, Eft was damn nearfuckinghim with it, and suddenly Kesst’s craving was screeching, slavering, far too powerful to ignore.
“Would it be easier,” he gasped, between thick breaths, “if you touched me inside?”
