Band-aids, bandages, betadines; a stitch here and there and an antibiotic ointment — that’s the first aid for a physical wound.
Kisses and touch are the two limited first aids for a wounded heart — in a figurative sense however. But for Aurora, this was definitely the right prescription for what she felt.
Cirrus was no doctor, but he was certainly adept to it.
He moved to bombard her with more kisses from her lips to her cheeks, and down to her neck. Even her hands — each of her fingers weren’t spared, and if she was lying and naked right now, he would have included her waist and her legs too, and all the curves she hid. He meant to anoint it all with holy water coming straight from his mouth. To renew everything. And if they had a contract, to renew it too.
Aurora let herself get drowned by all of it; closing her eyes and feeling the sensations that slowly changed her breathing to calmer ones. And like a gentle breeze, gradually her aching heart was healed, and her sadness, washed away and replaced with want.
Want. Yes. She had always wanted him. He was a drug for her, and she to him.