March 2018 Sketchbook Pt. 2 (Patreon)

Hope you enjoy! There's also a little story to go with it! 

Unconventional Healing

Pavel ached in places he didn't know he could. When the medics managed to drag him from the battle field and into the healing tent, he couldn't see from one eye, a tinny ringing in his ears followed him everywhere, and he bled from open wounds. In and out of consciousness, a doctor told him he would be okay and that he was in good hands. While his vision blurred and fell into darkness, he heard the medic say, "it's unconventional healing, but all the soldiers owe her their quick recoveries."

And then he blacked out. 

His nightmares were vivid recollections of the fire and carnage he'd seen in the days past. They were unpleasant, but his body cared more about rest than the havoc these nightmares played on his psyche. 

He came two a few times over the course of the following day. During one such moment, he thought perhaps he had passed on. A gazelle, tall, willowy, and dressed in white, cleaned his wounds with a warm cloth. He thought at first that she was an angel, but as his vision cleared he recognized the red cross on her hat. She noticed his eyes opening and smiled. 

"Oh, you're awake." Her voice, sweet and melodic, soothed the tinny noise of his hearing damage. He noticed bandages over different parts of his body, and the pain went through him in waves. He groaned a little and the nurse put a hand on his chest. 

"You should try to rest as much as possible. You're very lucky you weren't closer to the blast. Though..." She trailed off, touching a well-healed scar on his chest and dragging her fingertip lower. "It seems you've gotten lucky a few times in the past."

Even with the medicine making him foggy and the pain creepy into his limbs, the innuendo did not pass him by. Pavel's ears perked and she rewarded that with a light laugh. 

"Tomorrow, I'll come back and see if you're not well enough for the next round of medicine," she said. "It's a little... unconventional. But I think you'll enjoy it."

He cleared his throat and managed to say croakily, "so long as you're the one administering it."

She laughed again and it made his heart swell to know he'd provoked the sound. Leaning forward, she kissed the top of his muzzle and said, "then I won't disappoint you."

Pavel's dreams that night were not filled with war. Instead it was the opposite. He dreamt of the angel - winged in his dreams - lying next to him in the too-small cot. Her breasts pressed to his arm, her thigh overlapping his own, and her hand traced the scar just as she had done during the day. Only this time, she didn't stop where the scar ended. She trailed her hand lower and lower, scratching her fingers through the dense fur beneath his navel and then around the aching hardness between his legs. His pain seemed to melt away at her touch. She stroked him slowly, watching him carefully for signs that he was hurting. Instead, he felt heat in his cheeks and his breath coming faster. He wanted to ask her to go faster and a little harder, but he found it difficult to speak, his breath catching in his chest. He managed a, "yes! yes!" through his teeth as she picked up the pace anyway. His voice rising.

Until it didn't feel like a dream anymore. He could hear his breathless moans for more - in the real world. He woke with a slight start. The gazelle was not cradled at his side as she had been in the dream. Her hand was not on his cock - which now stood fully erect in the dark of the healing tent. 

But she was there. She stood at the side of the cot, taking a few steps closer. Perhaps his moans had attracted her attention. A blush rose to Pavel's cheeks at the state he was in. 

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean t-"

She came forward and hushed him with a finger to his lips. "No need to apologize. I wish I'd come sooner," she told him. 

If possible, Pavel felt a deep rush of blood south at those words. She couldn't possibly mean-

"I think you're ready for the next, hm... treatment?" she said. "It sounds far too clinical like that. Just relax, though. I'm here to make you very," she stood up straight. "Very," she swung a long leg and placed it on the opposite side of the cot, straddling him. "Comfortable," she finished, a hand moving to the zipper on the front of her white dress.

It was very dark, so he couldn't see beneath her dress - but if it had been daylight, he could have. He watched as she slowly freed her breasts from the dress - full and with swollen, pert nipples. Then she touched the hem of her skirt and pulled, so it rode up, and shifted so she stood directly above his throbbing cock. Her pussy glistened a little with wetness. She lowered herself just enough that he could feel it as she glided over the tip of his cock.

A low, uncontrolled hum escaped him. Was this real, or another dream? It felt so so real. He decided it had to be. 

"Ready?" she asked him, rubbing a hand over one breast and squeezing her nipples. He watched, unable to tear his eyes away. He nodded.

Steadily, she lowered herself down, the tip of him pressing between her lips. He felt the resistance as he met her entrance, saw the flesh of her mound pushed out with the intrusion of his flesh. A moment longer of resistance as she pressed, letting gravity help, his cock bending just a little under the weight and resistance before it pushed passed the first ring of muscle and into her. She let out a gasp, touching herself with more fervour. His head sunk between her lips another inch, only the shaft showing now.

"Mm, how does that feel?" she asked him. She swivelled her hips a little, drawing a gasp from him. The ache in his belly was a pleasant, pressing need. 

"Y-you feel amazing," he told her truthfully. 

"Do you want more?"

He nodded and she complied, bending her knees and letting him sink another two inches inside. The heat of her enveloped him, one measure at a time. Her thighs shook a little and she had to straighten a bit - the release of pressure on his cock leaving him wanting right before she sunk back down - lower, lower until her pussy had swallowed his cock to the root. 

His breath came very fast now, his chest rising and falling, the sound of them both panting was loud in the night. She rocked her hips just a little, riding him without pulling up so he could feel the all-encompassing heat of her pussy squeezing his cock. He could barely move for his injuries, but he managed to arch a little into the motion, wanting her to feel filled and hungry and satisfied all at once. She seemed to like that because she bit her lip and a little whimper escaped her. Shuddering, her movements became quicker. 

"H-how does that feel?" she asked him again.

"L-like I can't even describe-" he said. "Ngh, fuck, I wish I could make you come-"

She leaned forward and kissed him. Her tongue, wet and hot, slid against his own. She tilted her head to deepen the kiss and when she did, she arched her hips up. He felt cold air against his slackened dick for the barest moment before she slapped back down over his hips. It punched a groan from him. Thank god his injuries were mostly on his upper body, or perhaps he wouldn't have been able to take the sudden rhythm of her bouncing on his cock. The tight heat of her seemed to pull the pleasure from him. It burned from his navel to his balls, getting hotter and hotter as he needed release. Her breasts bobbed against his chest with the movement. Her thighs quivered uncontrollably as her climax crept up on her. She buried her face in the fur of his neck and let out a repressed keen of wanting, hips still pumping up an down until she milked his orgasm from him as well. Wave after wave of it until his balls ached. He felt the thick cream spilling between their thighs, slicking them together like glue. It felt like ages before he caught his breath, or before he softened enough to pull out. Shakily, she stood and knelt beside his cot. She threaded a hand through his hair as sleep started to creep up on him. He wanted to stay awake, because she was cleaning him with her tongue - lapping the mess they'd made from his belly and his flaccid cock without shame or modesty.

God, he hoped he didn't recover too quickly...