[#nudity #humor #busty #nurse #appetite.]
"TEN DAYS!" RAFEL GROWLED. "—ten days, and I still can't lift my fucking legs. I'm supposed to be able to move now, aren't I?"
He sat in a large vanilla-colored tub in the back yard of Sekhmet's forest cabin. The home loomed imperiously in front of them. The back door was slightly ajar, and he could see the swishes of her long blue skirt as she moved about in the kitchen. The lovely goddess had heard his complains, and took it with a warm smile; Israfel was only in a hurry to exact vengeance. She got it.
She took, had a dark past with an adversary she hunted down for years. Presently, as she cared for or needed in her life was the serenity and natural comfort of the island.
The beautiful red haired Apollyon made her rosy days in the woods brighter though.
She walked out the back door with a tray in her hands. Rafel was watching her with soft yellow eyes in the tub. He sat in warm water, naked.
"My beautiful, beautiful lord," she rubbed his head tenderly, easing his irritation.
Rafel smiled with her. Sekhmet had a contagious spirit. Her bending over to pour in more hot water in the white basin was a wonderful distraction. He raised his hands from the growing temperature of the tub to caress behind to her plump butt. He fondled and rubbed her ass, marveling in the tasty weight. Sekhmet flushed a bit.
Rafel hissed and began to pull up her dress skirt, but she slowly pulled back. His hands dropped away.
She said, "you must have breakfast first, my lord. You only had caramel pap last night."
Rafel frowned in the tub. "So, no blowjob?"
Sekhmet leaned in to kiss the side of his forehead. Her lips came off wet with steam. "Not yet," she caught his look, "—but you will be able to move around soon, I assure you. You mustn't stress the process of healing. Your sweet body is not only regenerating poisoned tissues from the Dark Spectre dagger, it is also building a kind of immunity against it for the future.
You are an ore in the forge: you are being refined.
Mephistopheles' strike with the bolt left the imprint of his corrupt touch within your system. I have seen many fall to just the bite. I think perhaps you should just enjoy the fall scents and the winds of the tropics. . .think of this as a vacation."
She kissed him again. "Everything would be alright, Israfel. In time. Glory to the gods that we are immortals then."
Rafel pondered her words.
Maybe the legends had been to harsh on Sekhmet. The platinum woman before him was comely and kind. She had that human touch.
She was right too: he should take things slow. He had survived the death blow of a [Divine]. In his long years of combat, both in Hel's arena and the mortal plane, he was the ONLY SURVIVOR he knew. Sekhmet's words; her enduring smile, were like a balm to his soul. He felt more refreshed every time he opened his eyes to her after a terrible dream or a night of turning.
Besides, it didn't hurt that she was one hell of a bombshell.
He nodded to her. "Thank you. I figure I haven't said this to you since I was dropped her. You did not know me—or my past—yet you took me, and—"
Sekhmet chuckled. "Mind what?"
She was seated opposite him on the bed, with her own plate. His beautiful eyes had that sinful look.
"—mind taking off your shirt."
Sekhmet didn't gasp out, but she said, "you wanna watch my breasts as we eat?"
"It came out wrong," muttered Rafel. "...but what I mean is, you have a very gorgeous body, blessed and ripe; fair as peeled papaya. It would be nice to gaze upon a beautiful, healthy woman."
'It'll help the food go down, so I don't suddenly pass out.' Rafel kept this in.
"I understand, love," Sekhmet smiled.
She shrugged off the big shirt before picking again her plate. She folded her legs under her and watched Rafel watch her. She looked better than he'd imagined. Her breasts were full: succulent pears pushing in her chest. Her skin, untainted and smooth as running silk. The peaks were deliciously topped in rose nipples, pebbled in the evening air.
"You are a beautiful creature," Rafel shuddered. His smoky iris conveyed words language could not express. He stared at her like the cross of The Christ.
Topless and radiant, Sekhmet ate with Rafel.
He made her laugh with jokes. She told him stories of the isles, and the recent events in Titans Landing. Rafel learned she served as the [High Witch] of the land this side of the creek. Those I'll among the Islanders crossed her bridge to seek help. It was strange though that the Islanders seldom fell ill.
When Sekhmet made her own jokes, she and Rafel laughed so hard they nearly fell off the spring bed.
In between moments, he forgot she was his nurse; they were just two souls brought close by fate.
His eyes did wander to her perky breasts, but it was more in awe than lust.
"Your cabin should be a museum. . ." Rafel said cheekily.
Sekhmet rose to take the bait. "Why?"
". . . because you're a work of art!"
"Oooh!" Sekhmet laughed.
He joined her, and when she had taken away the plates, she hurried back to the bed—and him. He took her into his strong arms, though falling sick had made Rafel a touch delicate, he cradled her. She was still topless. Sekhmet looked out the cottage's window at wisps of flooding purple dusk.
A shocking hot wind blew in.
Sekhmet knowingly stroked Rafel's abs. "It's going to be a hot night."