My Healing Touch His Obsession Novels & Stories

"I'm not sure yet. I need to check further. Please unfasten your bra." As it concerned my health, I didn't hesitate and unfastened it at once. My rosy skin was exposed to the air. There were still marks on it from where I had been touched earlier. "Have a look, doctor." Nicholas didn't wear gloves this time, and his rough skin brushed up right against mine. Without any barrier between us, I could feel his touch even more clearly than before. I didn't want to humiliate myself in front of him, so I lifted my head and forced myself to endure it.

Tohr told me with a look of approval. "She brought you here because she wanted to protect you so you could heal," I pointed out with a laugh. He pressed his body against mine. I felt an extremely hard, very obvious, and unignorable bulge grinding into my stomach, letting me know that healing was the last thing on his mind. His desire was already clouding my mind as they touched, and our emotions began to mix. "Tohr," I whispered, feeling breathless again. "You surely can't be feeling up to anything strenuous."

Claude kept his eyes closed and listened to the light fizzing sound in front of him. After a while he could smell a serene and calming smokey smell, almost like sage...someone was using Healing Magic. He opened his eyes and saw a middle aged Hispanic woman with elegant yet mature features and soft hazel eyes. The calming features of the woman were one's he grew to assign with Prof. Callista. The Academies Healer. A job he assumed she was in the act of performing due to the smell of the room and the fact that he only recently got obliterated in the midst of his opponents physical Rebirth. The memory brought his blood to a furious boil.

Too much pain that shouldn't exist. His glowing fingers touch my ribs where the worst wound should be. Warmth spreads through me—healing warmth, closing something I can't see, fixing damage that's both there and not there. He works slowly. Methodically. Like he's repairing something valuable that he owns. When he's done, he leans back. Studies me. Amused. Satisfied. Like he's watching a performance, and I just delivered exactly what he wanted. My hands are still shaking. My breath comes in short, panicked gasps.

He's moving blindly, and the thought of healing himself was the only thing that kept him in place. And of course, with the help of his handsome Giant Italian boyfriend that made him trust the process of his healing journey. But, who knows if he'll heal completely? No one, not even his 'boyfriend' who happened to be a doctor that he doesn't know what kind of. All he knows, he had to trust him, him, and him to make the healing as fast as possible.

A few inches beneath her bruised lips. She cried out fearfully and clutched his shoulders but when he didn’t reach for her. Only shifted his fingers in a way that created some magic friction which seeped up into her like healing smoke. She gripped the skin of his shoulders and her face eased as whatever deep pain she endured abated from his healing touch. My gaze averted to him in shock. He’s a healer? The idea that someone could heal injured people and instead chose to break them was even more heart wrenching.

He listens attentively to her soft sighs and subtle cues, adjusting his technique to cater to her needs, ensuring that his every touch brings her relief. Time seems to stand still as Chris continues his healing touch, pouring his love and concern into each stroke. His presence serves as a beacon of solace in Zelda's darkest moments, reminding her that she is not alone in this journey. The room fills with a hushed serenity, broken only by the rhythm of Zelda's breathing and the gentle sound of Chris's hands moving over her skin. Gradually, the excruciating cramps begin to subside, replaced by a sense of ease and tranquility that settles deep within Zelda's core.

Take me. His hand, warm and slightly trembling, reached out. Instead of grabbing me and pulling me close, he hesitated. He only stroked the bare skin of my thigh, his fingers moving slowly, agonizingly close to my pussy. Then, his index finger, slow and deliberate, touched the very edge of my clitoris. Just a light stroke. My hips involuntarily bucked up a fraction of an inch, and a tiny, strangled sound escaped my throat. He watched my face, a flicker of pain crossing his own. He repeated the light stroke, then moved his fingers away, resting his palm gently on my inner thigh.

I was feeling his hot hard c*** on my a**. I tried to push him a little bit away because I was getting really nervous with his touch but it turned out to be more embarrassing. Now It was exactly pointed at my as***** and I didn't know what to do. I couldn't move and I again tried for the last time to move aside but he spoke.. ''''Aaahhh!!! Sweetheart be gentle.. I am already too much excited..'''' ''''Remember You said you won't touch me and you would prefer any hooker over me...''''