Laying on Hands - Turbogay Edition

Laying on Hands - Turbogay Edition!

	“I have you now,” Vulpes purred, leaning down to cup Hime's chin in his firm grip. Gloves of thin black leather hugged his hands, lending his touch a softness that the young healer would never have expected. A slow shiver – unwanted yet disarmingly welcome - ran through Hime's slender body, thankfully hidden beneath the voluptuous robes he was all too fond of wearing.
	“N-no!” Hime protested, struggling to keep the ever-present stutter that plagued his voice from rearing up again, “Sander will come for me! He's coming!”
	Vulpes' grin only widened for a moment, releasing Hime's chin only to bring his hand down in a short, vicious slap. The blow, even cushioned by the layer of leather, send a painful sting through the young healer. That would leave a mark, he thought madly to himself, blinking to clear his head.
	“No, I don't think he will,” Vulpes straightened up – with his admirable height, he had been stooping to look into Hime's wide, frightened eyes – and took a lazy step backwards. Almost as a casual afterthought, his hands shot out to shove his captive over, sending the boy sprawling.
	A startled gasp escaped the healer as a new rush of pain shot up from his backside. This familiar scene – him splayed out on the ground while an older man loomed over him – brought unwelcome memories of his numerous childhood bullies rushing back. That was the last thing he wanted to be thinking about, but just the thought was enough to bring a flush to his cheeks.
	“You see, this little fortress of mine is quite secure. I spent a great many hours setting these traps. They caught you, did they not?” Hime squirmed with embarrassment at Vulpes' soft words. The memory of dangling in that net, barely able to move let alone struggle free, for what had seemed like hours was still raw in his mind. Why had he ever thought sneaking into the ruined fort was a good idea?
	Because he wanted to prove himself, of course. The answer was an easy one. Hime had been sick of Sander doing everything, battling evil and protecting the young healer. More than anything else, Hime had yearned to see that muscular, beautiful warrior looking down at him with new respect and pride, like a child seeking the approval of an older sibling.
	“Still, I'm glad you decided to come here,” Vulpes continued, reaching down into his belt to tug something free. Whatever it was, it looked dark and somehow sinister. Rope, he realised as the villainous rogue let it uncoil and spill out onto the floor. “You'll make excellent bait, and - of course – amusement, until your... friend gets here.”
	“Don't you hurt Sander!” Hime cried, before he could stop himself. He knew that his outburst would lead to retribution, punishment even, but he forced himself to continue. “Do what you want to me, but... but...” his words petered off as he saw a wicked light gleaming in Vulpes' eyes.

	With a flick of his wrist, Vulpes forced some strange semblance of life into the oily rope dangling from his grip. Lashing like a serpent worked into a frenzy the rope pounced at Hime, jumping right out of Vulpes' hands and ensnaring the captive healer. Flowing more like a liquid than a solid object, the rope split and divided up into smaller sections, each one worming its way into the folds of his robes.
	Whatever magic animated the enchanted robe also gave it a terrifying vitality, and the strength to pull the young healer's limbs whichever way they wanted. It was but a moment before Hime's wrists and ankles were bound, tied tightly behind his back and leaving him entirely at Vulpes' dubious mercy.
	“You're in no position to be making demands,” Vulpes hissed, but the words were surprisingly free from bile. He seemed almost playful, but in a way that promised nothing good. “You could beg for mercy, I suppose,” placing one boot on Hime's shoulder, Vulpes pushed the healer onto his front, “But I wouldn't get your hopes up.”
	As Hime writhed on the ground, his white-clad body squirming like an oversized worm, Vulpes continued to circle him, occasionally poking the boy's exposed side with a metal-capped boot. They weren't kicks exactly, but they were still painful enough to draw yelps and whines from the captive healer.
	When he finally grew tired of that game, Vulpes leaned down and pushed Hime onto his back, squatting over his chest so that their faces were only a few inches apart. Up close, Hime could barely avoid comparing his own features with those of his captor. Vulpes had a face like a dagger, full of seductive menace and framed by waves of dark hair, neatly slicked back by some scented potion.
	By contrast, Hime had a slight roundness to his features that would have been pleasant, had it been found on someone else – the daughter of the village blacksmith, say. His hair, much like Sander's, was gold and worn long, tied back by a simple length of red ribbon. It was silly to think about – he certainly wouldn't have admitted it to anyone – but that ribbon was more valuable to Hime than the rest of his possessions put together. It had been a gift from Sander, given with the kind of gruff, awkward affection that only the humble fighter could summon.
	After staring into each other's eyes for a moment – Hime could only guess what dark thoughts were swirling behind those equally dark eyes – Vulpes seemed to come to some decision. Grabbing a fistful of Hime's hair, tugging some of the boy's golden locks out of his ponytail, Vulpes tilted his head back and lowered his own face into the crook of Hime's neck. Warm breath caressed Hime's exposed throat, sending an unwelcome shiver through his entire body, as Vulpes took a deep breath, tasting the healer's scent.


	“You smell of fear,” Vulpes purred, his voice slipping like warm oil into Hime's ear, “Fear, and something else aside.” Standing up, Vulpes looked down at Hime's crotch, and the stiffness that stood out from beneath his robes. Immediately, Hime felt blood rush to his cheeks, lighting them up with a shameful glow.
	“Amazing,” Vulpes shook his head with slow wonder, but the smile on his face only deepened, “You've been bound, beaten and humiliated, but still...” The villain pressed down on the wanton bulge with a single finger, pressing Hime's aching shaft down until it rested flat against his stomach. When the finger was removed, the erection sprang back up as though it had been spring loaded. “Perhaps you like that kind of thing?” smirking, Vulpes caressed Hime's cheek with a gloved hand, “I won't judge.”
	“T-that's not it!” Hime tried to insist, but the words caught in his throat, spilling out in a shameful murmur. He turned his head as much as possible, desperately seeking to avoid Vulpes' smoulder gaze, but the rogue simply turned Hime's face back towards him. When Hime was finally able to tear his eyes away from the rogue's sinister face, his eyes fell upon the dagger in his fist.
	Vulpes released Hime's face, letting the boy's head drop back against the stone floor in a blow that filled his vision with stars. When Hime's head cleared, he heard the sound of fabric being ripped and saw his white robe – that sacred raiment of the healing order – being cut away. What had once been a modest robe was now something that even a streetwalking harlot would have blushed at wearing.
	“Much better,” Vulpes muttered. At first, Hime thought the rogue was talking to himself, but that was not true. His voice carried easily, reaching Hime's ears even though it never rose above a seductive murmur. A bedroom voice, through and through. “You'd suit a dress, with that pretty face of yours,” a laugh, then, “Maybe I should keep you – keep you on a leash, so might attend to my needs whenever they arise.”
	The expression of shock that passed across Hime's face must have been laughable, for a deep chuckle escaped Vulpes. “My need for healing, of course. Whatever did you think I was talking about?” Vulpes knelt in front of the bound healer and touched his erection, first running a slow finger up the length of the shaft and then taking it in his fist. “I thought healers were supposed to have clean, pure thoughts. Not you, though.”
	Words failed Hime. He couldn't even force out some meaningless babble – the kind of stumbling not-words that he coughed out whenever his hand happened to brush against Sander's when they were close together. When Vulpes gave his cock a squeeze, not quite tight enough to be painful, but enough to serve as a warning, the healer was able to nod briefly, his eyes clenched shut.
	“I knew it, you're nothing more than a little slut,” Vulpes spat the words with something approaching affection, albeit of a predatory kind. “You've been following that dreary master of yours for so long, and all the time you just wanted him to notice you!” The villain barked out a harsh laugh, running his gloved hand up the length of Hime's member in a slow stroke. Ignoring the low whine of unwanted pleasure that escaped the captive, he continued.
	“No, that's not it. You don't want him to notice you, you want him to take you to bed, isn't that right?” Still clenching his eyes shut, Hime felt himself nod as Vulpes kept stroking him. “Hah, why give it a pretty name? You want to take his sword up to the hilt, you want to bury your face in his crotch, and you want to taste every drop of seed that he gives you, isn't that right?”
	Moaning openly, sickeningly aroused by hearing every one of his dirty fantasies being spoken aloud, Hime nodded desperately as Vulpes' strokes grew faster. His cock was achingly hard, twitching frantically in time with his fevered heartbeat, and every motion of Vulpes' leather-clad hand sent delirious waves of bliss through his body. A wanton sweat coated the healer's body, glistening like a second skin in the candlelight. At the mercy of Vulpes' skilled ministrations, Hime knew that it wouldn't be long before he came.

	“It won't be that easy,” the villain said sweetly, his words coming out with unbearable smugness. As Hime opened his eyes in confusion, he let go of the healer's manhood – if his undeveloped organ deserved such a name – and let it twitch futilely in the cool air. Whining and writhing, struggling against his enchanted bonds in a desperate attempt at escape, Hime's mind was filled with the need to release his pent up lust.
	Vulpes had stoked the embers of his arousal, stirred into life by the shameful, yet enticing, memories of his misspent youth, into a raging inferno. Now he had left it to burn wild, filling Hime's body and mind with a yearning heat and burning away whatever dignity the young healer might have had. Pearly drops of precome had gathered at the tip of his penis, only to be shaken loose by his feeble struggles.
	“Poor little whore,” Vulpes purred, lifting a heavy leather collar from a chest and turning it over in his hands, a frightfully thoughtful tone entering his voice, “You really are desperate, aren't you?”
	Again, Hime felt himself nodding, lust and perverse enjoyment breaking down any barriers his resistance might have put up. Frowning slightly, Vulpes struck the boy across the face with a casual backhand, the blow sending a stinging surge of pain through him that did nothing to clear his mind. If anything, some dark masochistic part of Hime's mind craved another blow, another dose of punishment for his lewd urges.
	“I'll have a use for that mouth of yours later,” Vulpes growled, “But for now, use your words. I want to hear you say it.”
	“Y-yes, I'm... desperate. I want... I need to come,” Hime stammered through dry lips and a tight throat. The thought of Vulpes using him later, using his lips and throat, only made it harder to form the words.
	“Hmm,” Vulpes rolled his eyes in a pantomime gesture of thought, before reaching down to run a finger up Hime's boyish cock. Not a single hair grew around that small member, lending it a somehow feminine look. Gathering a drop of the boy's precome on his gloved fingertip, Vulpes brought it up to Hime's mouth, daubing the cloudy liquid across his lips. “You don't sound all that desperate to me,” he added thoughtfully.
	Moaning quietly, Hime opened his mouth wide and took Vulpes' finger in his mouth, tasting the slight saltiness of his own precome. Shamefully, when Vulpes pulled his finger from the warmth of Hime's mouth, the healer felt himself opening his mouth again and reaching out with his tongue. “Please!” he gasped, between laboured breaths, “P-please master, just let me come! You can use me all you like, use me like a cheap whore, j-just please let me come!”
	“Well then,” Vulpes' face twisted in a long, slow smile. He glanced down at the collar hanging from his other hand and looked back up at Hime's slender neck. “Now we're getting somewhere...”

	Gasping and panting, his movements slowed by fatigue and injury, Sander burst through the flimsy wooden door and came face to face with death. Not an uncommon thing, for a well-travelled adventurer, but this time he realised that the odds were against him. This time, death came in the form of a crude blackpowder pistol pointed straight at his face.
	He'd seen such weapons before – they were carried by the Royal Guard in his home city – but he'd never had one pointed at him. Up close, the barrel looked huge, looming blackly out at him like a tunnel leading straight to the afterlife. Holding the pistol, and wearing an infuriatingly smug smile, was Sander's old rival.
	“Vulpes!” Sander growled, his voice as rough and rugged as his features. Any other day, under any other circumstances, Sander could have broken the rogue over his knee, but things were different this time. Chasing after his faithful companion – the damn mage had run off on some fool attempt to prove himself – Sander had blundered into trap after trap. His light leather armour was torn open in several places, each tear marked with the fighter's spilled blood, and the medley of small wounds were making him slow. “Where is-”
	The question died in Sander's throat as he finally looked away from the dark spot of Vulpes' pistol and saw Hime. The boy was kneeling at Vulpes' feet like a loyal pet, a comparison that was only strengthened by the thick collar fastened around his neck. Sander's eyes followed the leash connected to the collar and was dismayed – yet not surprised – to see the other end of the leash clasped in Vulpes' empty hand.
	“Drop the sword, please,” Vulpes asked, his tone one of a host politely asking a guest to remove his muddy boots. The words didn't reach Sander's ears – he was too busy staring in rapt horror at his faithful healer, a boy that he had once thought to the very paragon of innocence. Hime was naked, his bare chest rising and falling with heavy breaths, and his unbound hair spilled around his shoulders in wild, sweat-slick tangles.
	Numbly, as though coming from a great distance, Sander heard his sword clattering against the stone floor. It wasn't the rogue's politely worded demand that had caused him to lose the blade, it was simple shock at the sight of Hime. Between the boy's thighs, his member stood straight up in a potent erection, swaying with every motion of his body. His manhood was reddened, as stiff looking as an iron bar and tightly bound at the base by a familiar looking length of red ribbon.
	Worst of all was the lewd smile plastered across Hime's sweaty face. It brought a lively glow to his cheeks and parted his plump lips slightly, so that every breath he released came out as a little gasp of bliss. Whatever villainy Vulpes had subjected him to, it had taken a fearsome toll on the young healer's mind.

	“Ah, but you're hurt. Where are my manners?” Vulpes let out a theatrical sigh, sitting back in his chair like a king relaxing on his throne. “Those look quite painful. Perhaps you need a healer?” a dark chuckle followed that remark, “Hime, my little pet, why don't you attend to your other master?”
	“Haa~” Hime panted, nodding enthusiastically as he began to shuffle towards Sander. His hands were bound, tied behind his back, but his legs were free to move. He could have walked, should he choose to, but still he crawled. “I-it will be my pleasure master,” his voice was low but eager, and there was still a trace of the hesitation Sander had come to recognise lurking in his words.
	“And you,” Vulpes flicked his pistol towards Sander in an indulgent gesture, “Strip.”
	“I don't know what twisted game you're playing, but-” Sander began, scowling down the yawning barrel of Vulpes' pistol.
	“I have a GUN,” there was nothing but contempt in Vulpes' voice, as though he was speaking to a child with a brain injury, “Besides, you'll need to take that armour off if you want your
little healslut to do his job.”
	Sander scowled again, summoning a truly heroic frown, but said nothing. Vulpes was right on both points – Hime would need to lay his hands on the injuries to heal them, and he DID have a gun. Although, with his hands tied behind his back, how was he supposed to aid the fighter's wounds?
	It was shortly after Sander had disrobed, casting aside his torn and useless armour to reveal his hard, muscular body, that he found out. Hime's hungry gaze wandered up and down the length of the fighter's body, staring admiringly at his well-defined form. Then, fixing his eyes upon a particularly nasty gash, the young healer leaned in and kissed the ragged wound.
	At first, it was a chaste kiss – if such a thing was possible, given the aura of desperate lust that hung around the boy like a shroud – but it wasn't long before Hime's movements grew frantic, his tongue sliding across damaged and intact flesh alike as he feasted on Sander's body. The fighter could feel magic pouring into his body, not just healing the physical maladies he had been left with but stirring new life within his spirit.
	New life perhaps, but it felt somehow dirty, as though it had been contaminated by the boy's perverse lust. Through a combination of that tainted sorcery and the natural sensuality of the boy's tongue exploring the contours of his body, it wasn't long before Sander felt a stirring in his loins. The warrior shifted his weight from one foot to the other, the ever-present threat of the pistol forgotten in the face of this new, disquieting sensation.
	“Ah, master!” Hime gasped, his breathless voice stirring some animal hunger within the depths of Sander's mind. How many times had he watched the boy from afar, never quite able to put his feelings into words? How many times had he drifted off to a lonely sleep, only to dream of having the healer's slender body pressed up against his own? Now, with the boy practically forcing himself upon the older fighter, those fantasies had taken on a surreal tone.
	“I've wanted this – wanted you – for so long,” Hime's voice snapped Sander out of his thoughts. Vulpes was watching the scene with a detached amusement, the pistol long since vanished out of sight. Meeting the fighter's eyes, he yawned and gave him a knowing smirk. For one brief, lunatic moment Sander struggled to see Vulpes as a villain, rather seeing him as a facilitator, one who had teased out their true feelings and forced the wandering pair into action.
	Perhaps still suffering that delusion - and still feeling vaguely as though he was dreaming - Sander let his hand wander, landing on the tangled waves of Hime's hair. He pushed the boy's head lower, away from the last of his rapidly closing wounds and down to his aching crotch. As he pushed his leather leggings down, freeing his member from their stifling confines, Sander realised just how much he had wanted this, to see the young healer on his knees before him.

	For his own part, Hime's eyes showed nothing but bliss as he watched Sander tugging out his manhood. A dreamy smile formed on the boy's parted lips, his tongue flickering out to trace the outline of his mouth. He paused for a brief moment, savouring the smell of male arousal that suddenly seemed to fill the air – or had it always been there, colouring the air like ritual incense? - before placing a single delicate kiss on the tip of Sander's shaft.
	A simple man, Sander was never one to dwell on delicacy or niceties. There was only so much he could take, and the warmth of Hime's wanton lips against the head of his cock was enough to push him over the edge. Relishing in the utter lack of resistance – the youth was so enthusiastic that Sander barely needed to push at all – the older man slid his cock into the engulfing wetness of Hime's mouth.
	Stifled moans escaped Hime as he buried his face in Sander's crotch, his own cock throbbing with redoubled strength. The boy seemed caught, teased to the point of climax but denied true release. It was as though a single touch would be enough to unleash the torrent of frustrated seed boiling within him. He would probably do anything for the sake of that desperately sought orgasm, Sander realised, dismayed at how powerful the idea made him feel. He wasn't one to lord over people, but...
	“Use me,” Hime whined, lifting his mouth away from Sander's shaft so that the whole organ rested on his lips, tickled by the puffs of breath accompanying each word. “Use me however you like!”
	Sander swallowed nervously, suddenly daunted by the limitless potential that scandalous offer contained. As he struggled to find the words – or even think of what words were appropriate in a perverse situation like this – Hime's tongue reached out, tracing the veins running up the length of the fighter's manhood. That sublime pleasure, more delicate and nuanced than anything Sander had ever been able to wring out of himself with his hand, was the last straw.
	“Turn around,” the fighter rasped, the words catching in his parched throat. Hime's gaze reached Sander's eyes and stayed there for a brief, yet somehow endless moment, before the boy slowly started to turn. Too slow for Sander's taste – when the fighter's blood was racing, he barely had the patience to get undressed before plunging into the good stuff. Grabbing one of Hime's bound arms, he pushed the boy around, forcing him into a tumble that was only stopped by Vulpes' quick reflexes.
	Scooping the fallen boy up, Vulpes pulled him closer and held him for a moment, smiling beatifically down at the young captive. That moment of tenderness was immediately repaid in brutality as Vulpes pushed Hime's head down into his crotch, his other hand reaching into his breeches to pull his own member free.
	“Aah~ My two masters!” Hime sighed, looking up at Vulpes with lust clouded eyes and wiggling his pert backside in a crude invitation to his warrior comrade, “Take me from both ends! Fill me up!”
	The pair, swept up in the lusty healer's contagious enthusiasm, hardly needed any encouragement. Gripping his buttocks – one of them already marked with the burning red mark of a handprint – Sander parted them to reveal the tight entrance hidden between them. Slick with saliva, it didn't take Sander much effort to push past the first ring of muscle into the heat of Hime's body, the firm push drawing a squeal of shameless delight from the boy.
	The shameless enthusiasm that had warped his normal behaviour – or perhaps revealed the true nature that he had hidden all too well – had even reached into Hime's body, or at least that was how it felt to Sander. The boy's body seemed to pull Sander's manhood deeper into it with a hungry search for pleasure. For a moment, Sander thought about touching Hime's bound cock and stroking him to the release he so desperately sought, but he put the thought aside.
	“I want to see you squirt,” he growled, almost shocked at the aggression in his rough voice. Moaning and writhing, panting with every inch of flesh that sunk into him, Hime's back rose in a tense arch as Sander hilted inside him.
	“Fuck me, master!” the slutty healer gasped, pushing his hips back up against Sander's crotch until his backside bumped against the fighter's body, “Take me hard! Please fuck me as hard as you like, I-”
	Whatever else he had to say was cut off, words ending in muffled grunts as Vulpes pushed his shaft deep into Hime's throat. For a moment, Sander's eyes met Vulpes' and the two dominant men shared a laugh, their differences put aside in their moment of shared pleasure. Taking the back of the heavy leather collar in a tight grip, Sander pulled hard as he thrust into Hime's welcoming with enough strength to draw a trill of excited pain from the boy.
	Sander knew that he wouldn't last long, his cock massaged by the throbbing walls clenching down on every inch he put inside Hime's backside. Determined to make the most of things, to satisfy every dark fantasy he had ever entertained, Sander reached under Hime's slender body and took the healer's small shaft in a tight grip. His strokes were harsh, uncaring in their harsh intensity and soon his fist had a slick layer of precome greasing it.
	The beginnings of a powerful convulsion were building at the base of Hime's shaft, throbbing with the promise of the long awaited release. Sander stroked him harder, dragging the boy helplessly to the point of orgasm and yet then – a moment before pushing him over the edge – he pulled his hand away. At that same moment, he pushed his manhood deeper and harder into the healer's body, pushing up into the boy's most sensitive place.

	Practically screaming around the organ filling his mouth, Hime's entire body seemed to stiffen up as he was gripped by a potent climax. Leaping up, straining against the ribbon tied tightly around the base, his cock jumped and spat thick ropes of seed in several powerful bursts. Rings of muscle in his anus clenched at Sander's invading member, seizing the older man in an unrelenting grip.
	That spasmodic grip was enough to send the fighter into an orgasm of his own, finishing off what had been started by his sensual healing and lustful fellatio. Grunting out a curse – the exact words already forgotten in the heat of the moment – Sander held Hime's thin body against his own as he shot his load deep into the boy's back passage.
	Hime took it all, taking every drop of seed into his body with a deep moan of appreciation. Before he could do anything, to look up at Sander perhaps, Vulpes took a handful of hair and pulled Hime's face back. The sound of the healer's breathing seemed suddenly loud without anything to muffle it, and the simple sound of the boy gasping in post-climax bliss was enough to set Sander's loins shifting again.
	As Vulpes stroked his slick cock with a luxurious grip, Hime stretched his mouth open wide and thrust his tongue out, closing his eyes in eager anticipation. When Vulpes came, he did so silently and without ceremony, but the end result was the same. Pearly strings of semen burst forth from the tip of his member, splattering across Hime's face and painting a long white streak across his tongue. Still holding his eyes closed – and some of that cloudy whiteness had gathered in the sparse hair above one of his eyes – Hime lowered his mouth to Vulpes' crotch, taking the man's shaft in his mouth and sucking the last few drops of seed out from the tip.
	Slowly, Sander eased out of the boy's tightness, grimacing a little at the chill air that met his manhood. That coldness alone was enough to make him wish he was back inside the boy, seeking out warmth as well as pleasure. As those thoughts roamed through Sander's mind, Hime slumped down to the ground, blushing furiously as he tongued errant drops of semen from the sides of his mouth, chasing down the few drops he could reach.
	Come the morning time, what would the boy have to say for himself? What explanation could he offer for all of the lustful, yearning words he had gasped out in the throes of passion? In truth, a part of Sander wanted the boy to deny it all, to play the events off as some fantasy that Sander had spent too long thinking about. The thought of the boy struggling to keep his composure – what little composure he could muster – in the face of Sander's teasing was a strangely appealing one.
	It might have been cruel, to relish the prospect of bullying the young healer so, but Sander's conscience was strangely quiet. In either case, he was fairly sure that Hime would enjoy it as much – perhaps more so – than he would. It was certainly going to be fun finding out.