Tags: M/F, Lime AND Lemon versions, Touch Deprivation, Hand Job.

In this timeline, Anastasia was sent by Dr. Owen as a favor for Captain Yami. Takes place after Chapter 11.

What if Henry's follow up went differently?

She couldn't stop thinking about him—those pleading eyes, as golden as the sun, the way he teetered between desperation and embarrassment. She knew she shouldn't be thinking about him like this. He was her patient. But the way he trembled under her touch awakened something primal within her. These thoughts swirled in her mind as the cosmos mage made her way to the Black Bulls' base for Henry's follow-up. She was there to share her treatment plan and ensure he didn't need anything else. But she couldn't forget that moment. She heard the moan he exhaled when she checked his lungs, felt how his muscles tensed as he tried to stifle it. The exam was supposed to be strictly professional—a favor to Captain Yami, as Dr. Owen had said. And it was, at first. But towards the end, his raw vulnerability, the way he struggled to maintain his composure, stirred something in her, something that brought her dangerously close to breaking one of her healer's oaths.

'Never, under any circumstance, exploit a patient for personal reasons.'

Anastasia let out a long sigh as she stood before the enormous wooden door marking the entrance to the Black Bulls' base. It was quiet, the lack of mana in the air suggesting that most of the knights were elsewhere.

Her concern deepened; this was usually the time his condition would flare up. She knocked on the door and waited, but after a long moment, it seemed no one would come. Reaching for the doorknob, she noticed the door creak open on its own, as if moved by an unseen force. Henry's mana—Recombination Magic—pulsed through the walls of the base, and she realized it was likely he who had allowed the door to open.

Henry stood half-hidden behind a wall, his heart pounding with a mix of anticipation and nervousness. The memory of their last exam still haunted him—the way he reacted to her touch, the embarrassment he felt as he craved more of it, and the heat that flared in his chest, taking his breath away. It had taken him weeks to push that moment out of his mind, yet now, with her standing just outside, that familiar longing returned, mingled with shame. But he couldn't help it; now that she was here, a part of him eagerly awaited the answers she would bring.

A small smile spread across her face as she murmured, "You were expecting me, weren't you?"

Tiny blue birds were perched in his hair, tweeting a cheerful song as Anastasia entered. She smiled at the sight, a soft giggle escaping her lips.

"Now that is adorable," she said, slowly approaching her patient. "How are you feeling today?"

"G-Good…afternoon, Miss…Anastasia," he stammered, his voice laced with the slow, careful speech he was known for. "I'm…alright."

"It's quiet today," she observed, glancing around the empty space. "Is it just us here?"

Henry nodded; his expression still tinged with unease. "They…left on an…important mission. Captain Yami said… you can stay here…until they get back."

Anastasia considered his words. It made sense; he needed someone at the base to siphon mana from, and a healer's mana would be perfect for him. But the longer she stayed, the more dangerous it could become—for both of them. She had to maintain control, for the sake of her healer's oath, to protect her patient, and to avoid embarrassing herself to the point of losing her job and never seeing her favorite patient again. Yet, as she looked at him now, with those pleading golden eyes and the shy, hopeful demeanor, she felt the struggle within herself intensify. It was a battle between her professional duty and the emotions she knew she had to keep in check. But for now, she had to focus on him, on the care he needed, and on keeping her own feelings at bay.

Anastasia nodded with understanding. "Alright, I'll stay with you." Her expression was sincere as she offered him a warm smile. "Where would you like to have your follow-up?"

"My room is the most… private place," he replied, his voice soft.

"Alrighty, let's go," she agreed.

The cosmos mage followed Henry down the hall, her eyes keenly observing his slow, deliberate movements. Despite the careful pace, there was a certain grace to his stride, a quiet dignity that spoke of his noble lineage. His tall form moved with a kind of restrained elegance, his long, unruly hair swaying gently with each step. She couldn't help but notice the regal air he carried, even in his humble demeanor. Henry's family were nobles, but he was anything but arrogant. He was thoughtful, grounded, and surrounded by the love of his friends—traits that only made him more endearing. As they walked, Anastasia found herself drawn to the glint in his eyes, a tender kindness that mirrored the warmth of the sun. His eyes, golden and vibrant, were not only striking in their color but in the way they conveyed a powerful yet gentle spirit.

When they arrived at his room, Anastasia was surprised by the transformation. What had once been a small, dark space with just a bed, night table, and lamp had expanded into a room twice its size. There was now a small, firm couch, a writing desk, and a skylight directly over the bed.

"Oh, your room is different!" she remarked, tilting her head in intrigue.

"The couch is better suited for exams," he explained, nodding slowly. "The skylight lets me look at the night sky… and the stars… remind me of you…" His voice trailed off, and before he could stop himself, his face flushed a deep red. Embarrassed, he quickly turned away, trying to hide his reaction.

Anastasia's heart skipped a beat, his words catching her off guard. 'Is that why he put the skylight in?'

Her initial instinct was to brush it off, to focus on the professionalism she prided herself on. But the sincerity in his voice, the way he struggled to admit it, tugged at something deep within her. She couldn't deny the flutter of emotions that surfaced—the same emotions she had tried to suppress after their last encounter. His words, simple as they were, ignited a conflict within her. On one hand, she was his healer, bound by her oath to maintain a professional distance. On the other, there was a part of her that yearned to reach out, to explore this unspoken connection between them. Her mind raced with thoughts of the last time she had examined him—the way he had trembled under her touch, the way his breath had hitched when her fingers brushed against his skin. She had felt something then, too, something she wasn't sure she should feel. Now, standing in his room, with his earnest confession hanging in the air, those feelings threatened to resurface. She fought to keep her composure, to remind herself of her duty. But the warmth in his eyes, the vulnerability in his voice, made it difficult. She could sense his anticipation, his nervousness, the same mix of emotions she herself was trying to control. How could she maintain the boundary when every word, every look from him, made her want to cross it?

Anastasia swallowed, forcing a smile as she tried to push the inner turmoil aside. "That's… sweet of you to say," she managed, her voice softer than she intended.

She moved closer to the couch, trying to focus on the task at hand, but her thoughts kept drifting back to his words, to the implications they carried. As she sat on the couch, preparing for the exam, she couldn't help but wonder: Could she really keep herself from crossing that line? Or was it only a matter of time before she gave in to the emotions she was so desperately trying to keep in check?

"Let's talk first. I have some interesting thoughts I want to share with you." Anastasia patted the seat next to her, her smile inviting yet composed.

Henry hesitated, his heart pounding in his chest. The invitation to sit so close to her again sent a surge of conflicting emotions through him. He had to remind himself that, just like last time, this was a clinical setting—a professional meeting and nothing more. He wasn't here to indulge in the fantasies that had plagued his mind since their last encounter. No… he wasn't going to grab her hands and rub them over himself, no matter how much he craved her touch. He was going to keep his shirt on and resist the urge to let his emotions take control.

He approached cautiously, passing his hand over the spot where he intended to sit, almost as if testing the waters. The simple act of moving closer felt like a monumental challenge, the tension in his chest growing with each step. His mind raced, filled with thoughts of their last meeting—the warmth of her touch, the way her presence had both calmed and excited him. But he couldn't let himself be swept away again. This had to remain professional. As he finally sat down, his movements careful and deliberate, Anastasia watched him with the same patience and openness she had shown during their first meeting. Her expression was filled with sincerity and empathy, the very qualities that had drawn him in the first place. It was those qualities that made it so hard to maintain his resolve, to keep the line between patient and healer clear.

He forced himself to meet her gaze, trying to focus on her words rather than the flood of emotions threatening to overwhelm him. But as he sat there, so close to her, the memory of how he had felt under her touch resurfaced, and he couldn't help but wonder if she sensed the turmoil inside him.

Anastasia began to cast her Microcosm spell, transforming the room into a breathtaking cosmic landscape. Stars adorned the walls and ceilings, their light shimmering gently, while constellations twinkled and floated lazily through the space. Nebulae ebbed and flowed like gentle tides, their ethereal colors washing over the room. Henry let out a long, contented sigh as the familiar spell enveloped him. The starlight wrapped around him, soothing his senses and easing the tension in his body. His mana siphon effortlessly recycled through the atmosphere, bringing a sense of calm that he hadn't felt in weeks. The cosmos mage gazed at him for a brief moment, allowing herself to indulge in the sight of his solar eyes, which seemed to glow even more brightly under the influence of her magic. She watched as his frame relaxed slightly, the weight of his condition momentarily lifting. The sight made her heart ache with a mix of empathy and something deeper that she dared not name. She quickly tore her gaze away, forcing herself to focus on the forms in front of her. She took a short breath, collecting herself before speaking, her eyes now deliberately fixed on his bangs rather than the captivating warmth of his gaze.

"So, based on my findings, I think we're going to call your condition 'Mana-Dependent Myopathy,'" she began, her tone professional but laced with a subtle tenderness. "It seems that the curse weakens your muscles, which is why you need to siphon mana to reinforce them just to carry out normal daily activities." She flipped through some pages, her focus shifting back to the medical details as Henry listened intently, his interest piqued.

"Your other bodily functions seem normal—no skeletal loss, nothing wrong with your blood or organs—but you could probably do well by eating a little bit more," she added, her voice gentle yet firm.

As she spoke, Henry's attention was fully on her, absorbing every word. The anticipation he'd felt earlier now mingled with a sense of relief, but beneath it all, the nervousness lingered. He knew she was right—he needed to take better care of himself—but it was hard to concentrate on that resolve with the soft glow of her magic illuminating the room, casting her in a celestial light that made it impossible for him to forget how much he craved her presence.

She paused, observing him as he processed her words. She could see the weight of her diagnosis settling in, the realization sinking deep. He leaned back, quietly dissecting the news, his thoughts swirling with the implications of finally having a name for his affliction. Anastasia mirrored his silence, giving him all the time he needed to digest what she had just shared. Years of uncertainty, frustration, and fear had plagued him. Before the bulls, he had endured countless visits with healers, each one leaving him with more questions than answers. But now, at long last, there was something concrete—a name for the condition that had dominated his life. He struggled to find the words to express his gratitude, the enormity of it all catching in his throat.

Instead of speaking, he looked up at the cosmos around them, the constellations twinkling like distant beacons of hope. Anastasia followed his gaze, her own thoughts turning to the stars above. She knew how much this moment meant to him, and she understood that sometimes, silence was the most eloquent response. Together, they sat in quiet reflection, the universe around them offering a sense of peace as they both took in the magnitude of this breakthrough.

After a while, she gently continued, still gazing upward. "I have a treatment plan for you. While we're limited in what we can do about the curse itself, there is something I have in mind to relieve your symptoms."

Henry's breath caught in his throat. Not only had she identified the condition, but she was also willing to go even further, offering him a glimmer of hope he hadn't dared to imagine. He turned to look at her, studying her serene expression as she gazed into the cosmic expanse she controlled.

"I want to develop a vitamin for you," she said, her voice steady with determination. "Something that will suppress the curse enough to let you live a normal life, as long as you take it as directed. I have a team of mages in mind whose mana I think will be able to do this, and I'm certain they would have no problem helping a fellow Black Bull."

The words filled Henry with a mix of awe and relief. The thought that she would go to such lengths for him—creating something specifically tailored to his needs—was almost overwhelming. He could hardly believe that after years of suffering in silence, he was now being offered not just a diagnosis, but a lifeline. He continued to watch her, mesmerized by her quiet strength and the way she seemed to draw power from the very stars that surrounded them.

Henry's eyes widened. "Fellow… Black Bull?"

Anastasia nodded confidently. "Your team here is full of potential. If we can condense, combine, and stabilize our mana together into an edible gummy, I'm fairly confident we can create something amazing for you."

"You would… do that… for me?" Henry's voice was laced with disbelief and a hint of vulnerability.

"Of course, Henry." Her gaze softened as she reached out and gently took his hand in hers. "You're my favorite patient."

The words had slipped out before she could stop them, and as soon as they did, she realized with a jolt what she had done. The room seemed to still as both of them stared at their clasped hands. She watched as Henry's gaze slowly moved down to where their hands met, and she noticed the subtle movement of his throat as he swallowed. Had she crossed a line? A twinge of uncertainty gripped her as she began to retract her hand, her brow furrowing.

"I… I apolo—"

Before she could finish, Henry moved with sudden, desperate intent. He grabbed her wrist and pulled her toward him, enveloping her in a tight embrace. His long arms wrapped around her entire frame, holding her close as if he were afraid to let go. Anastasia's eyes widened, her vision filled with the soft cascade of his unruly white hair, tinged with faint blue at the edges. He couldn't stop himself. The overwhelming emotions he had been bottling up surged through him, and he trembled as he held her. The warmth of her body against his, the deep sense of gratitude for her efforts as his healer, and the sheer relief of not being alone in this struggle all collided within him. It was as if, in that moment, the weight of his years of suffering had finally found a release.

'If only you knew how much this means to me,' he thought, the words forming in his mind but sticking in his throat, impossible to voice. 'If only I could tell you properly…'

The sentiment weighed heavily on his heart, and yet he found himself unable to articulate the depth of his gratitude, the sheer relief that flooded him. But as if she could sense his inner turmoil, he felt Anastasia's arms gently return the embrace, her touch delicate and careful as she wrapped her arms around his frame.

"Is this okay?" she whispered softly, her voice close to his ear, resonating with a tenderness that sent a shiver down his spine.

He nodded, the heat rising in his cheeks, his heart pounding as her voice filled the space between them. On top of everything he had learned about his condition, he realized just how much he had missed this—simple, human contact. The ache of touch deprivation had gnawed at him for so long, but her presence, her voice, and her careful touch had been a balm to that ache. He had missed her since her last visit more than he could have imagined. Her gentle voice, her attentiveness, and the care she took to ensure his comfort—it all made him feel seen, valued, and safe.

She could have done anything to him in that moment, especially considering they were alone, and yet she chose to be patient, to be gentle. As he held onto her, he felt her begin to move her fingers in slow, comforting circles on his back, each motion careful and deliberate. She was attentive to any sign of discomfort, ensuring he felt nothing but the warmth of her care. The touch was soothing, grounding him in the present moment, and he found himself leaning into it, letting the tension slowly melt away. In this embrace, the world seemed to shrink down to just the two of them, the cosmos swirling around them like a protective cocoon. For a brief moment, Henry allowed himself to just be—to feel the comfort of her presence, to let go of the fear, the uncertainty, and the isolation that without the Black Bulls, had been his constant companions.

As Henry found himself enveloped in her warmth, the comfort of Anastasia's embrace soothed him more than he could have imagined. But as his tension began to ebb away, another feeling slowly surfaced—a yearning for more of her touch. The craving, which had lain dormant for so long, was now awakening, fueled by the gentle circles her fingers traced on his hesitated for a moment, battling the urge, but eventually, he couldn't resist. Reluctantly, he pulled away, just enough to look into her eyes. There was a vulnerability there, a silent plea that he couldn't quite articulate, but it was unmistakable. Anastasia blinked, her breath catching slightly as she felt the shift in his energy, sensing his desire.

Slowly, as if seeking permission, Henry took one of her hands and brought it to his face. Anastasia blushed, her cheeks warming as she watched him lean into her palm, his eyes fluttering closed as if savoring every second of the contact. He seemed to melt into her touch, his body relaxing further, the tension that had always haunted him dissipating in the warmth of her hand. But that wasn't enough. He gently took her other hand and guided it to the back of his head, letting her fingers sink into his hair. Anastasia's heart fluttered as she moved closer to him, her gaze softening as she ran her hand through his unruly locks. The sensation sent a warm, tingling shiver through Henry, making him exhale a breath he didn't realize he was holding.

For a moment, time stood still. The cosmos continued to swirl around them, but all that mattered was this connection—this touch that spoke volumes more than words ever could. Anastasia could feel his silent plea, the depth of his need, and she responded with quiet understanding, her touch gentle but full of intent. She combed her fingers through his hair with care, each stroke deliberate, each motion a silent reassurance that she was there, that she wouldn't pull away. Henry felt a rush of warmth, a tingling sensation spreading through him as her fingers moved through his hair. It was as if her touch was healing something deeper than his physical ailments, something that had been starved for affection for so long. Every stroke, every caress brought him closer to a peace he hadn't felt in years. And as he leaned further into her hands, he realized just how much he had needed this—how much he had needed her.

As each moment passed, Anastasia found herself caught in a growing internal struggle. Was this really okay? Was she crossing a line that shouldn't be crossed in patient care? She tried not to focus on the vulnerability in his gaze, the way his neck subtly turned to expose different parts of his scalp, inviting her touch. His breathing shifted with every gentle caress, deepening with a rhythm that matched the tension rising within her. She couldn't deny the intimacy of this moment. It was far beyond the boundaries of a typical healer's interaction with her patient. The way his body responded to her touch, how he seemed to melt under her fingertips, was a silent testament to the trust he placed in her. But as she watched his reactions, feeling the subtle shivers that ran through him, Anastasia felt her own composure beginning to fray.

There was a voice in the back of her mind, urging caution, reminding her of the professional distance she was supposed to maintain. But there was something else, something inside her that was clawing away at the patience she had so carefully composed for his sake. It was a feeling she had managed to keep at bay during all their previous interactions, but now, in the closeness of this moment, it was becoming harder to ignore. The warmth of his skin under her hand, the softness of his hair, the way his breath hitched when she grazed a particularly sensitive spot—it all stirred something deep within her. She knew she needed to be careful with him, that he was fragile in more ways than one. But as his trust in her grew, as he leaned further into her touch, she felt the line between healer and something more blurring.

Anastasia tried to remind herself of her oath, of the responsibility she had to protect her patient, not just from the curse that plagued him, but from any harm that she herself might inadvertently cause. But with every passing moment, with every sigh that escaped his lips and every tender look he gave her, that resolve wavered. Was she truly helping him, or was she on the verge of letting her own emotions interfere? The intimacy of the moment was undeniable, and it terrified her just as much as it drew her in.

Henry pulled back, his hands still clasping hers, but his gaze shifted away. He shifted so that she would sit behind him, mirroring the position from their first examination. Slowly, he brought her hands to the hem of his shirt, the tips of her fingers grazing the bare skin beneath. Anastasia's breath caught in her throat, and she hesitated, her heart pounding with a mix of emotions she couldn't quite name.

"H-Henry…are you sure?" Her voice was thick with emotion, her hands trembling slightly as they hovered just below his shirt.

Henry's heart was racing, a storm of uncertainty swirling inside him. He wasn't entirely sure if this was right, if they were pushing the boundaries too far. But the longing for more of her touch was overwhelming, a need he hadn't fully realized until now. He wanted this—needed this—more than he could express.

"I…trust you," he said slowly, his voice barely above a whisper.

His eyes remained fixed on their hands, watching as they hovered together, caught between restraint and desire. The weight of his words hung in the air, carrying with them the vulnerability and hope that he placed in her. Anastasia felt a surge of warmth at his confession, her heart aching with the trust he had given her. She knew the significance of his words, how much it took for him to say them. But with that trust came a heavy responsibility, one that made her question if she was truly doing the right thing. The line between healer and something more was blurring rapidly, and she found herself teetering on the edge of that divide. Yet, as she looked down at their hands, at the way he held on so tightly as if she was his lifeline, she knew she couldn't pull away. Not now. Taking a deep breath to steady herself, she nodded, though she knew he couldn't see it.

"Okay," she whispered softly, her voice carrying the weight of her decision.

Gently, she guided her hands under his shirt, the warmth of his skin against her palms sending a shiver through her. She could feel the tension in his muscles, the way his breath quickened as she touched him. She moved slowly, cautiously, aware of every inch of his skin, every subtle reaction he her hands explored his abdomen, she moved with a deliberate slowness, carefully making their way upwards. Every so often she would pause, giving Henry time to adjust to the sensation and to become familiar with her touch before moving on. Yet with each pause, a renewed tension grew between them. Memories of their previous exam flooded back, but this time they were tinged with something deeper, something far more intense. Anastasia's effort of caution, meant to offer comfort and ease, seemed to have the opposite effect. Each time her hands stilled, the anticipation in the air thickened, charged with an unspoken longing that neither of them had fully acknowledged before. The warmth of his skin beneath her fingers, the rise and fall of his breath, the slight tremble in his muscles- everything felt amplified, vulnerable and intimate.

She could sense his breath hitching, the subtle tightening of his body as he reacted to her touch. Her own thoughts began to spiral. She could feel her pulse quicken, the awareness of his body under her hands sending jolts of warmth through her. Despite the conflict swirling inside of her, she couldn't bring herself to stop. She was too far gone, too caught up in the moment. As her hands moved higher, brushing against the planes of his chest she could feel the tension within him building, his breath coming in labored. Anastasia knew they were playing with fire, that this could change everything. But as she continued, guided by something deeper than just her role as a healer, she realized that, like Henry, she wasn't sure she wanted to stop. The line between patient and healer had blurred beyond recognition, and in this moment, nothing else seemed to matter but the two of them.

He leaned back into her, feeling the sensation of the rising and falling of her chest on his back. His head rested on her shoulder, and she turned her face towards him, rendering them cheek to cheek.

'What am I doing?' Henry thought, but it was quickly drowned out by the visceral reaction of his body to her touch.

This was unlike anything he had ever experienced before. There was an intimacy here, a connection that went beyond healer and patient, and it both terrified and thrilled him. He couldn't help but remember the first time she examined him, the way her touch had been gentle, careful, but nothing like this. This time, there was a tension in the air, a weight to her movements that made every second feel charged with something unspoken.

'I should stop this,' he thought, but the idea of pulling away felt impossible.

He didn't want her to stop. In fact, he found himself craving more of her touch, more of the warmth that seemed to seep into him with every brush of her fingers. His mind flashed to the isolation of his condition, the touch deprivation that had become a constant part of his life. But here, with Anastasia, that loneliness seemed to fade, replaced by a yearning he hadn't realized was so strong. Was it affection? Desire? Something in between? Whatever it was, it made him feel more alive than he had in years. But with that aliveness came fear. But even as the fear gnawed at him, he couldn't bring himself to stop. Her touch was like a lifeline, something he needed more than he was willing to admit, and in this moment, he couldn't bring himself to let go.

"Henry…" Anastasia growled in his ear, her voice tinged with guilt but wrought with desire. "We need to stop…"

His breath hitched at the sound, and warmth crept up his face as her breath tickled his skin. He felt the shift in Anastasia's demeanor as her actions betrayed her words in every sense. Her touch became firmer, almost hungry as she tightened her embrace on him. He groaned in surprise at the change of pressure, his need becoming raw, overshadowing his earlier doubts. As one hand rested on his chest, she trailed her other hand downwards, grazing the pelvic line on his hip.

"Tell me, Henry…" She murmured, turning her face into his cheek, her lips just barely grazing his neck. "Do you want me to stop?"

He opened his mouth to speak, but no words came out, only a stifled groan. He was caught between the heat of the moment, the shame of his desire and the fear to tell her to continue. He could feel his heart pounding, not just from the physical sensation, but from the realization of how much he had missed this—missed her. Her presence, her care, her touch—it was all more than he ever thought he would have again.

'No' He thought, willing for the words to come out 'Don't stop…'

His nerves ignited in a way that was almost overwhelming. Her gentle voice now became commanding; her hands now claiming the parts of him that he would allow her to touch. His breathing grew as erratic as his heartbeat and he felt the strain on his pants. He wanted her to touch every part of him, but she waited. She waited, caressing the skin just below his navel until he gave her permission. The anticipation tortured him but he couldn't move, he couldn't speak, trapped between desire and release.

LIME VERSION

Just as the contact was about to become overwhelming, Henry felt her hands retracting, the warmth of her touch slipping away like a lifeline being severed. His eyes shot open at the sudden absence, a jolt of panic surging through him.

'Wait…' he thought desperately.

Anastasia, on the other hand, was struggling to regain her composure. She took deep, steadying breaths, trying to quell the storm of emotions that had swept her up. Her mind raced with self-reproach. Even though Henry had allowed her to continue, this shouldn't have happened. She shouldn't have let herself get so carried away, allowing the lines between healer and patient to blur so dangerously.

'Hold on…' Henry's mind reeled, panic setting in as he tried to process what had just happened.

Had he crossed a line? Had he gotten too carried away in his longing for her touch? The blurred boundaries between them now felt like a precipice, and he couldn't help but fear the consequences. What was going to happen to them now? The thought of losing her, of her gentle touch being withdrawn forever, was unbearable.

His mind spiraled further into panic as he recalled all the times he'd been abandoned—by the medical professionals who had failed to help him, by his own parents who had given up on him. And now, the one person who had genuinely cared, who had looked at him not as a burden but as someone worth helping, was pulling away. The fear of losing her, of being deserted once more, clawed at his chest.

"Please… don't go," he whispered, the words slipping out before he could stop them, laced with a raw vulnerability that he could no longer hide. His voice trembled, barely above a whisper, but the desperation in his tone was unmistakable.

Anastasia froze, his plea cutting through her like a knife. She could hear the fear in his voice, the unspoken pain of someone who had been left alone too many times. Her heart ached, torn between the professional distance she needed to maintain and the overwhelming urge to comfort him, to reassure him that she wasn't going anywhere. But how could she, when her own emotions were in turmoil? She hadn't anticipated how deeply she would care for him, how easily insane he would drive her. And now, faced with his raw vulnerability, she realized that she was in just as deep as he was. She swallowed hard, fighting back her own emotions as she reached out, her hand hovering uncertainly in the air between them. Finally, she wrapped her arms around him once more, pulling him in tightly.

"I'm not leaving, Henry," she said softly, her voice steady despite the turmoil inside her. "I'm here, and I'll stay as long as you need me."

Her words were sincere, but the tension in the room remained, thick and heavy. The line between healer and patient had been crossed, and there was no going back. What lay ahead was uncharted territory, filled with both danger and the potential for something deeper, something neither of them had expected.

LEMON VERSION

"Henry…" She growled once more, but this time against his skin. "I'm here for you. I'll treat anything you need. Just tell me."

The way she said his name with such intensity sent a shiver down his spine. His heart fluttered at her words, heavy with danger. Her fingers lingered lower, just inside his seam, just enough to graze the topmost of his pubes. He inhaled sharply through his teeth, and he could withhold himself no longer. He grabbed her wrist and shoved her hand down his pants. She expertly weaved her hand around his ballsack, gently caressing the sensitive skin. An involuntary moan escaped his lips as she cupped him, running her thumb back and forth, giving it as much attention as she could. She tenderly squeezed him, alternating with a gentle pull in a slow steady rhythm.

"Ha…fuh…huck" He uttered as he trembled.

'Ugh, fuck the oath…'

Anastasia moved her free hand from his chest, up to his neck, guiding his face to tilt away from hers. His long, slender neck, now exposed to her, allowed her to graze her lips along its length. Her only duty now was to give this man the pleasure he deserved after years of being untouched. She moved the hand that cupped him up to his throbbing cock, savoring the feeling of his thickness pumping in her hand. He gasped at the sudden change and whimpered when she began to slowly stroke him. Henry's fears and doubts melted away under her touch, replaced by the raw want for her to please him. She released him enough for Henry to lower his pants springing his dick free. She moaned at the sight, palming his soaking tip to spread the fluid along his member. The cosmos mage took him in her hand again and stroked him steadily, causing him to lift his hips, meeting her tempo. He groaned loudly, moaned uncontrollably, losing himself in the unbridled need.

"Oh you're so goddamn hot…" She muttered against him, kissing a trail up his neck.

His mouth hung open, his breath charging the air around them as he rode on the high of euphoria. Her free hand explored every bit of his torso, her lips giving attention to his neck and face. Anastasia's touch was almost overpowering, but as he neared his climax he couldn't bear to pull away. He turned his head towards hers, his eyes low with exhilaration gazing at her alluring violet eyes. He wrapped an arm around her head and pulled her into a kiss. Anastasia inhaled sharply, moaning against his lips as if she tasted a delicious treat and tightened her grip on him. The contact of their lips sent a jolt of electricity throughout Henry's chest, topping off his arousal. It was a collision of need and desperation, a release of all the tension that had been building between them. Their breaths came in ragged gasps between each kiss, but neither of them cared, lost in the intensity of their connection. Henry's hips moved faster against her fist and she followed, matching his desperate rhythm. She could feel him expanding slightly, indicating that he was about to release. She squeezed then released as she stroked him, simulating an orgasm, causing Henry to tremble. His load shot out with a guttural groan, falling all over his abdomen and Anastasia's forearm. She trailed her eyes downward to see the messy scene and her eyes lit up at the she felt him begin to relax against her, she gently pulled back from his lips and looked into his tired golden eyes. He met her gaze as he panted, his face colored from the exertion and a tinge of embarrassment.

After the intensity of the moment began to settle, Anastasia, trying to lighten the atmosphere, playfully remarked, "Well, we made quite a mess, didn't we?" She chuckled softly, a teasing glint in her eyes.

"It's…your…fault" he responded.

Anastasia giggled and nuzzled his cheek "And I'd do it again."

A shy smile spread across Henry's face, the warmth of her words soothing the lingering tension. As she began to move, suggesting they clean up, he gently stopped her, his hand catching hers.

"What…about…you?" he asked, his voice laced with concern.

Anastasia smiled warmly, touched by his consideration. "Don't worry about me," she reassured him. "As your healer, I'm here for you."