Reincarnated as a Healer : Why are my powers so filthy?-Chapter 32: All filled up

By the time he reached the last soldier—a woman with a deep gash across her thigh—he was empty, his magic flickering like a dying ember, his head swimming with exhaustion.

He slumped beside her, his hands trembling, sweat dripping from his brow.

Terya walked up silently, her leather pants creaking as she knelt beside him, her presence a warm anchor.

She leaned close, her blonde hair brushing his shoulder, her voice a sultry whisper.

"Come to my tent when the fires go low," she said, her lips brushing his ear, sending a shiver through him. "I’ll refill you."

He looked up at her, tired but smiling, his voice soft but earnest.

"You’re always so generous."

She kissed his cheek, her lips lingering, her breath hot.

"I like my healers hard and full," she murmured, her green eyes smoldering before she stood, sauntering away with a sway that drew every eye.

They made camp in a grove wrapped in grey ivy, the air thick with the scent of iron and sap.

Saria oversaw rotation schedules, her black battle robe billowing slightly as she moved among the soldiers, her voice sharp but steady.

She didn’t speak to Leon directly but caught his eye, giving a single nod, her dark eyes carrying a weight of trust that grounded him.

___________

Later that night, after rations were passed and the campfires dimmed, Leon slipped into Terya’s tent, the canvas flap falling shut behind him.

The air inside was warm, heavy with her scent—leather, sweat, and something sweeter, primal.

She was already half-naked, leaning on her side, her leather pants open, one hand resting casually between her legs, her fingers glistening faintly in the lantern light.

Her plunging top was discarded, her breasts bare, full, and flushed, her nipples hard in the cool air.

She smiled without teeth, her green eyes dark with hunger.

"Took you long enough," she purred, her voice low, inviting.

Leon’s exhaustion melted under her gaze, his body responding instantly, his cock straining as he climbed into her arms.

The air around him shimmered, the bonds in his chest flaring—fire, wind, and the hybrid spark.

Her lips found his, hungry and demanding, her tongue curling against his with a slow, sensual rhythm that made him groan.

Her hands roamed his chest, tugging his tunic off, her nails grazing his skin, leaving trails of heat.

She pushed him down, straddling his hips, her soaked core grinding against him through his trousers, the friction agonizing.

"You’re drained," she whispered, her lips brushing his ear, her blonde hair tickling his face.

"Let me fix that." Her fingers unbuckled his belt, freeing his cock, her hand stroking him with slow pressure, her thumb teasing the tip until he gasped, his hips bucking.

Terya slid down, her lips trailing kisses along his chest, her tongue flicking his nipple, making him twitch.

She took him into her mouth, wet and warm, her tongue swirling with a teasing, filthy rhythm, her moans vibrating against him.

Her hands cupped his balls, massaging gently, her green eyes locked on his, watching every shudder, every gasp.

Leon’s hands tangled in her hair, his magic surging with his arousal, the airy pulse of their bond flaring brighter.

"Terya..." he groaned, his voice desperate, his body trembling on the edge.

She pulled off with a wet pop, her lips glistening, her smirk wicked.

"Not yet, hero," she said, climbing back up to straddle him, guiding his cock to her entrance.

She sank down, her tight, slick heat enveloping him, her moan loud and unrestrained, her breasts bouncing as she rode him, her hips rolling with a sensual, relentless rhythm.

The tent filled with their sounds—her moans, his gasps, the slap of skin, the crackle of magic as wind swirled around them, lifting her hair, sparking with faint flames.

Leon’s hands gripped her hips, thrusting up to meet her, his magic roaring, refilling with every pulse of pleasure.

When he came, it was with a cry, his body arching, his climax flooding her, her walls clenching around him as she screamed, her own release hitting hard.

They collapsed, sweat-slick and panting, her body draped over his, her breath hot against his neck.

The magic hummed, stronger now, the bonds pulsing with renewed power. Terya kissed his jaw, her voice a soft purr.

"All filled up," she said, her smirk returning.

Leon grinned, his exhaustion replaced by a burning resolve.

"Thanks for the top-off," he said, his voice warm, his hand brushing her thigh.

Outside, the forest waited, Vraxus’s keep looming closer.

But in that moment, with Terya’s heat against him and his magic thrumming, Leon felt ready for the war ahead.

______

The trees changed first.

By midmorning, the bark had turned the color of dried blood, veined with glowing red cracks like fire pulsing beneath the surface.

Leaves hissed, twitching in windless silence.

No birds.

No insects.

Just the crunch of boots and the occasional low groan of old wood... that might not have been wood at all.

Terya squinted upward, her blonde hair catching the dim light, her green eyes narrowing.

"The forest’s alive. Not in a sexy way," she said, her voice low, her usual tease muted by the oppressive air.

Leon murmured, his hand brushing the dagger at his belt, "Feels like something’s watching."

Saria walked ahead with two scouts, her black battle robe billowing, her dark eyes scanning the canopy.

"It is," she said, her tone clipped, authoritative. "Don’t look for shapes. Feel for presence."

Leon nodded, but the farther they marched, the worse it got.

His magic—usually vibrant, a pulse of fire and wind in his blood—felt sluggish, distant, like it had to swim through mud to reach his fingertips.

His new tunic, black with crimson lining, clung to his sweat-damp chest, the tailored fit grounding him even as his mana waned.

When a runner collapsed, gasping for air, Leon hurried to him, kneeling in the dirt.

He pressed a hand to the man’s chest, his glow faint as he healed a cracked rib.

The spell worked, but it was weak, draining him more than it should.

He tried another spell on the man’s bruised arm—nothing.

His magic flickered, a dying ember.

"AAAH-GODS!"

A scream tore from the left ridge—a sharp, desperate—raw with terror, like a man seeing death descend.

Another followed, higher, panicked—"NO-NO-HELP!"—cut off abruptly.

Then silence, heavy and suffocating.

"........"