Work Text:
“We must draw the corruption out of your body,” Evrard had said. He'd laid Arthur down on a long cot in a room John said was full of jars and books and bundles of herbs. Alia had stripped him, which made him think perhaps they'd pull it from his pores with salves, or heat the room so he could sweat it out. He’d hoped there wouldn't be leeches involved.
He hadn't expected to feel more bare skin against his own.
Alia has removed her dress, John explained. She's approaching you with measured steps. She's… well, I guess I'd say she's a handsome woman, Arthur. Not pretty, but strong, with ruddy coloring and a broad body.
Hands smoothed over his flanks, and he flinched.
Evrard sounded amused when he said, “Let Alia ply her art. Trust her. She knows what she's doing.”
“A-alright,” Arthur agreed reluctantly, then coughed a ragged burst of phlegm.
John grumbled, I guess we don't have much choice.
Thick thighs straddled him, and calloused hands wrapped around his prick. When it stood erect, Alia guided it to her entrance. Arthur gasped as her cunt seemed to suck him inside, coughed again as a shudder ran through his body, and whined as a pulling sensation spread from his groin to his abdomen to his ribcage. She didn't rise and fall, didn't bounce or roll; she held herself perfectly still, but the muscles around his cock undulated like waves dragging a man out to sea.
Arthur, Evrard has come around to the head of the cot. He's watching you with interest, and something else…. John paused, and then concluded: Hunger.
“Of course,” the nobleman was saying, “once you've been emptied, you'll need to be filled back up.” Rustling fabric quite close to Arthur's ear. “With something pure and healthful.”
Shocked, John said, He's taken out his cock.
Arthur didn't need to be told to open his mouth.