Chapter 23

WEEKS PASSED.

THEREwere mornings Ash was amazed that the world, that time itself continued on its steady path, when his own world was being succinctly shattered on a near nightly basis. The sun rose, birds sang in treetops, and people woke up and left their homes to go to work. How could they go on like nothing was wrong? Didn't they know what Laurel had gone through? How much he'd suffered?

But then, he supposed, the things he'd seen had happened years ago. Seasons had passed. People had died, babies had been born. Marriages, divorces. Love, hate. He'd healed patients, gone on dates, built things. Spent nights laughing with his mother over silly games. And he'd had no idea in that handful of years, how the person who would eventually become the most precious aspect of his life was so full of hate and pain and bitterness.

Their days were varied. Spent in bed wrapped up in each other, or with Nero and March at the castle, shopping with Ingrid, or on long walks through the city, on dates to bookstores and cafés. They often had lunch or dinner at Laurel's home with Ingrid, Helio, and Minael. Once, they'd gone to the beach with the whole friend group. They'd built sandcastles and dunked each other into the warmed ocean, letting the sun and the sound of their friends' laughter wash over them.

But their nights were different. He'd spent so much time preparing Laurel for what they'd need to do, Ash had neglected to prepare himself. He hadn't known how his own psyche would suffer, devastated by the sadistic slide shows. He'd suffered the pangs of empathy many times with his patients. It was expected in his line of work. He accepted it, tried to shield the patients from it by taking it inside himself and dissolving it. But watching the things that Malory had done to Laurel, feeling them, hearing Laurel's hopeless despair in his head, was so much worse than he could ever have imagined.

It wasn't just the sex. The rape, Ash corrected himself, unable to bring himself to equivocate the two. But Laurel hated that word, had paled and visibly grimaced when he'd used it once before. Asked him not to say it ever again. So Ash had complied to his wishes, if only to make the sorcerer less uncomfortable when they discussed it. But privately, in his own mind, he could never bring himself to refer to the violent, cruel acts Malory had forced on Laurel as sex.

After the night of Ingrid's concert when Laurel had finally confessed to him that Malory had abused him, Ash had thought then that he'd imagined the worst, but he'd really had no idea. The casual and frequent way the older male would grab at him, yanking him or pushing him when Laurel wasn't moving quickly enough for his liking, leaving fingerprint-shaped bruises on his wrists, his shoulders, his waist wasn't what he'd imagined. The way Malory would nearly constantly make remarks on Laurel's appearance, his voice, his mannerisms.

And then there were the tantrums. They didn't seem to happen often, but when they did, they came with such voracity that Ash wondered how no one had ever noticed that something was wrong. When he'd asked, Laurel had explained that Malory had always been very careful not to hit him anywhere that couldn't easily be covered with his clothes. Because while he'd seemed enraged and unrestrained on the surface, there was always a part of him that remained in control.

He'd watched, countless times now, the sadistic older male lose his temper over things Ash couldn't fathom becoming upset about. He'd punished Laurel after a party they'd attended where Laurel had disappeared briefly with his friends, because he'd somehow known that the blonde had smoked with them, a habit Malory apparently despised and forbade. Ironically, because despite their terrible and toxic relationship Laurel had always remained steadfastly loyal to him, Malory had exhibited countless bouts of intense, violent jealousy seemingly any time Laurel even casually interacted with another male.

It seemed that there was always a reason to scold him, a never-ending supply of complaints. Ash couldn't imagine living in such a way, eternally on edge and waiting for the next fight. He often felt nauseous at the end of the night after watching so many harrowing scenes, but they'd become accustomed to comforting each other afterward, which lessened the intense horror.

But things were finally getting better now. Laurel's control of his magic had slowly begun trickling back to him. Tiny things at first, the ability to create a spark here, lift an object there, with no pain or blackouts. Ash had gone with him one afternoon to a small studio he owned in the downtown district. It hadn't been opened in years, and dust had coated every surface. He'd watched the sorcerer create a tiny glass sculpture, no bigger than a paperweight, and held him while he'd cried after. Then they'd fucked against a brick wall while dust motes had danced around fat sunbeams that spilled in from the high windows.

They'd gone through what seemed like every memory, every knot blocking the cord of Laurel's soul. He'd spent their final session the night prior drifting through the empty realm of the sorcerer's psyche, unable to find anything new to address, but there was still something blocking Laurel's magic from reaching its full potential. Still one small thing keeping him from being back to his complete self. They'd discussed it for hours, theorizing, but neither he nor Laurel had been able to come up with anything that felt right.

"You're so quiet tonight," Laurel observed, stroking a hand over Ash's head where it rested on his chest, carding his fingers through the messy, autumnal locks. "It worries me when you aren't yammering my ear off."

"Just thinking."

"Well, stop. Whatever you're thinking about is making you sad."

"How do you know that?" Ash wondered. "You think you're starting to pick up my powers through osmosis?"

"No," Laurel snorted a little, giving the healer's skull a light tap with his finger. "I'm just getting to know you more. The only time you aren't talking is when you've got a big, fat, figurative raincloud condensed over you."

Sighing, Ash shifted a little so he could drape an arm over Laurel's torso, his ear still pressed to the steady heartbeat, squeezing him tightly.

"Just thinking about whatever that last thing is that I can't find."

"You said it yourself, we've gone through everything. There are no memories left for us to work through, and it shows. I'm me again," he said.

Raising his head, Ash gave him a long look. "But I can't figure out that last bit. Whatever it is, it's keeping us from being finished."

"Maybe that's just how it is," Laurel insisted. "Maybe it's like a scar. Even though you healed me, there's just some scar tissue that's keeping me from ever being completely back to normal." When Ash's eyes flashed with a wave of sorrow at his words, he went on. "That would be okay with me. You have no idea how happy I am with what we've done. And if this is all I get, if this is the most I can do for the rest of my life, I'm happy with that."

"But I promised," the healer insisted, frustrated. "I promised you that I would bring you back, all the way. I don't ever want to break a promise to you."

"You haven't. You did exactly what you said you would do. Whatever it is that's left blocking me in there, maybe it just takes time. Or maybe it's like I said, just something I have to live with now. Either way, I don't want you blaming yourself. You'd never let me feel that way about you."

"No," Ash agreed softly. "I'd never let you feel that way." Maybe it was as Laurel said, maybe it was a scar that would never fully heal. But he'd never finished with a patient until they were fully recovered. It was an odd, painful feeling, wondering whether he'd have to give up on fully healing the person he cared about most.

"Ash?" Laurel asked, after a stretch of silence. "I want to fuck. We can do it slow, how you like it."

Exhaling through his nose, Ash felt the corner of his mouth perk up a bit, amused at the wording. It wasn't rare for Laurel to try and disguise his need to be comforted or consoled with sex. "How I like it?"

"That's what I said," Laurel repeated, averting his gaze when Ash's verdant eyes tried meeting his. "You're the one who's always wanting it all romantic."

"And now who's asking for it like that?"

"Forget it," he snapped out, embarrassed. "Fuck me like you're mad at me."

Ash shook his head, grinning. "It's too late, your original request has already been processed and approved. No refunds."

"Fine, but for the record this is your idea, not mine."

"Alright," Ash relented, unbothered by the typical exchange. The sorcerer's reluctance to admit when he wanted to be treated gently, like one of the protagonists in his flowery romance novels, was particularly adorable. "I know you'd rather me just shove you to your knees and nail you into the mattress, but I'd appreciate it if you'd let me take you nice and slow. Would that be okay, sunshine?"

Laurel gave a casual shrug. "If that's what you want."

God, he loved him. The words seemed to bubble up from Ash's chest multiple times a day now, fighting to escape from his lips, always swallowed back down. If there was anything he'd learned about the surly man in their time together, it was that he had to let Laurel take things at his own pace. If he let those three words slip out, it wouldn't result in anything but absolute panic. Even though Ash knew without a shadow of a doubt that his feelings were completely mutual. Bittersweet as it was, he'd just have to wait for Laurel to say it first, and then he'd be free to reciprocate.

"Much appreciated," he murmured, shifting so that his body covered Laurel's completely, the blonde's bare thighs spreading a bit to accommodate his form between them. They were still naked from when they'd had sex earlier in the afternoon, showering afterward, not bothering to dress.

His lips were already warm, already eagerly parting when Ash lowered his mouth to them. Long, lazy kisses sustained their link as Laurel's hands roamed over him appreciatively.

"I love your back," Laurel murmured between meetings of their lips. "The way your muscles feel under my hands when you move is so sexy."

"We'll have to get one of those ceiling mirrors so you can watch when I'm on top of you."

Snorting, Laurel had to turn away for a moment while he laughed. "Only a prostitute would keep a mirror on their bedroom ceiling."

"I'll be your prostitute, then," Ash suggested, wiggling his eyebrows suggestively when Laurel gave him a sly look in response. "Every inch of me is yours to use. I exist only to please you."

Purring lightly at the words, he slid one of his hands up to fist into the healer's hair. "Please me, then."

Because he knew exactly what would please his lover, as well as pleasing himself, Ash drew out their time, savoring every delighted gasp and moan. The air around them turned heavy, silent all but for the rustling sound of their sheets and their panting and soft moans.

Pressing a line of kisses over Laurel's shoulder, Ash lingered on a freckle, completely enamored. Every breath he took was full of the sorcerer's scent and essence, filling his lungs with sweet musk.

"You're everything to me, Laurel. No one could ever touch my heart like you do." It was the closest he could come to saying what he really wanted.

With his own heart pulsing a slow, thick beat in his chest, Laurel whimpered as Ash's lips dragged heat over his dampened flesh. "I-It's the same for me. I didn't even know it could be like this." His blood felt like it was singing inside him, sending his brain spinning. They'd been together now dozens of times, but there was a new sort of urgency pulsing inside him that he didn't yet understand. "Hurry up, I want you now."

"Apologies for keeping you waiting, my fairy king." He'd known the impatient man had been close to reaching his limit, so the plea didn't surprise Ash. Uncapping the lube they hadn't put away from earlier, he drizzled some over his fingers. Laurel was still stretched from before, so he only needed to stroke into the silky muscles a few times before wiping the excess onto his cock.

"Are you ready for me, sunshine?" Ash whispered close to his ear, settling on top of him.

"You don't have to ask when I already told you to hurry up."

Chuckling lightly, he gently nibbled at Laurel's plush bottom lip. "You know I love it when you boss me around."

The absolute sincerity in the words, and the intense security he felt at the healer's weight snugly covering him had Laurel practically floating in a pastel fog as Ash's lips covered his over and over. "What else do you love about me?"

"Everything," he vowed. "You're perfect. You're exactly what I've always wanted."

Though he found the idea impossible, Laurel couldn't help but sigh as he hooked his arms around Ash's neck to pull him in even closer. "You're everything I want, too." He hadn't meant to say them, but the words had come pouring out on their own.

"Do you mean that?"

Feeling more raw and more exposed than he'd ever felt in his life, Laurel felt tears settle on his lower lashes as he nodded. Slightly ashamed, he raised a hand to wipe at them, letting out a broken gasp when Ash's hands took his, intertwining their fingers tightly.

"Don't hide from me," Ash murmured. "Just tell me how you feel."

"I…" With his heart pounding against his ribs, Laurel began to feel the strangest unraveling sensation, like he was comprised of tangles of ribbons. It was unfamiliar, and frighteningly intense. "A-Ash, something's happening." He started to tremble, squeezing the healer's broad body even more tightly.

"Yeah," he acknowledged, eyes widened. "I don't know what's going on."

And then they felt it, that unmistakable pulling sensation, like every piece of their souls were fighting to escape from the prisons of their flesh. Sensing Laurel's stark fear, Ash gave his fingers another squeeze.

Magic, the cool light blue of his aura, pulsed out from around the healer's form. It trembled in the air for a moment, seeking its mate. Understanding now, Ash could only let out a raspy whimper as his heart stumbled, a bizarre ache. Craving for Laurel's aura throbbed through him, the need so sharp that he nearly sobbed in relief when a fiery orange light began seeping out from the sorcerer's pores.

"Oh my god," Laurel managed to pant out between harsh, rapid breaths. "We're…"

"Sharing magic," Ash finished, stunned. It was so rare, something he'd only heard about in stories. He'd never even met someone who'd managed to ever activate the bond required to do it.

Their auras swirled together, entwined, as if the two collections of shimmering, colored light were sentient, too. While the air shimmered with a golden haze, the respective colors of their magic merged gently, before they heard a sound like lightning cracking across a stormy sky, then the sound of a troop of angels plucking at harp strings, followed by birdsong, and ocean waves crashing against rocks, fusing into an indescribable symphony. Warmth flooded their souls as the auras, now mixed, returned to them with a crash.

Arching his back against the explosion of sensation, Laurel cried out sharply, digging his nails into the healer's sides. "Ash!"

He could only grit his teeth against the mind-blowing pleasure of having Laurel's essence imbued into his very soul now. "It's okay, I've got you."

To soothe as well as complete their bond, he wriggled his hips so his cock was wedged into the crease of Laurel's ass. Relieved when the sorcerer's long thighs rose up to envelop him, a silent consent for him to continue, he fused their mouths together again before pushing inside.

Laurel let out a long moan as the healer's deep movements inside him rocked him to his core. Ash buried himself balls deep with every thrust, opening him wider and filling him more deeply than anyone ever had. There was no part of him that the man hadn't claimed in some way, but the gentle healer's ownership of his body thrilled him.

Every sensation was heightened, all the cells in his body seeming to spark as his nerves were stimulated ruthlessly. Laurel already accepted the embarrassing fact that he would be reduced to incoherent begging basically every time that they fucked, but he was more desperate now than he had ever been.

"More," he whimpered. "Faster."

Though part of him wanted to remind Laurel that he'd asked for it to be slow, the sorcerer's pleading urgency always turned him on more than anything he'd ever experienced. And Ash hated to deny him anything.

"Like this?" He rasped out, ramping up into a brutal rhythm that had Laurel's mouth dropping open and flooding with saliva and his toes curling.

"Yes," Laurel gasped out, his mind blank as Ash dragged over his prostate with every perfect snap of his hips. His own cock throbbed, wedged between them, as Ash's hips rammed him over and over until he was desperately crying for relief.

As his release overtook him, the overwhelming pleasure had Laurel's eyes rolling back and his knuckles paling as he clutched at Ash's muscular back. He knew Ash had followed right behind him as he heard the healer's voice crack on a blissed out moan and felt a flood of cum fill his ass.

LAUREL HAD NEVERfelt such a heady combination of numbness and buzzing nerves before. It was unfathomable, this idea of suddenly gaining a completely new array of magical abilities. Even more overwhelming was that he now had this insanely rare bond linking him to Ash, that neither of them completely understood.

He didn't know enough about sharing magic. He'd never cared to look into it, as the idea of having such a connection with anyone had always seemed like a fairy tale. He remembered Malory's desire for it, how he'd tried forcing it between them. Laurel wondered if the older male understood yet that it couldn't be forced, that you couldn't choose it. It could only choose you.

Ash's aura was settled solidly inside him, a comforting weight around his heart, like a freshly laundered blanket. But he didn't feel comforted. He felt terrified. He hadn't asked for this. It had been forced onto him without his consent, or even before he'd had time to consider it. But it wasn't as though he could blame the healer. Ash hadn't forced it on him. It had been forced onto both of them.

Leaning into the mirror, he stared into his own amber eyes, unsure of what he expected to see.

"I can feel your nerves from out here," Ash said, though his voice was heavy as he stood in the doorway to the bathroom.

"Sorry."

"You don't have anything to be sorry for. I know this is all really sudden."

Shaking his head, Laurel shivered. "I don't know if I want this. It's too much."

"I'd take it back if I could."

Because he knew that Ash was being completely honest, he couldn't bring himself to feel any resentment toward him. "What am I going to do with healing magic, anyway?" Laurel scoffed. "With my luck I'd end up blowing the person's brain apart that I was trying to heal."

"Don't worry about any of that right now," Ash advised him. "You could hurt someone or yourself if you try to do anything like that without training."

"Obviously."

They were both quiet for awhile before Ash spoke again. "I believe this will ultimately be a good thing for us, but it's okay to be scared."

"You aren't scared," Laurel pointed out.

"No, I'm not. I'm happy."

"How come you always get to be happy over there, while I have to feel like shit over here?"

"Because you're afraid to be happy."

The words crackled on Laurel's skin as they washed over him, intensifying his conflicted emotions. He was exhausted both from the process of their auras combining and attempting to fight against it. Pushing past the healer, he made his way back over to the bed, sinking down onto it and covering his face with his hands.

"Will I ever be normal?"

"Give yourself some grace," Ash said, sitting next to him. "You've been through more in the past few weeks than most people will go through in their lifetime. Let's step outside and get some air so you can clear your head."

"Okay," Laurel agreed. He was no longer surprised by the way the healer always had a perfect suggestion for calming or comforting him. Reaching down into a drawer, Ash pulled out a shirt and tugged it over Laurel's head, grinning as the sorcerer pushed his arms through the sleeves.

"You look good in my clothes," he said. Though Laurel was sure he looked silly in something so comically large for him, he only smiled as he tugged on a pair of cotton shorts.

Leaning out over the balcony, Laurel deeply inhaled a breath full of cool night air, gazing up into the twinkling stars. Despite the anxiety of their bizarre situation, the stillness of the night and Ash's presence was slowly beginning to calm the ragged edges of his nerves. He leaned in, laying his head on a firm shoulder. "It's nice out tonight."

"The weather here is great," Ash agreed. The way Laurel had become more comfortable with showing him affection made his heart soar in his chest. "It's a lot warmer right now back where I'm from."

"Do you miss it there?" Laurel asked, though he was afraid to hear the answer. They'd never discussed what would happen after Ash was done treating him, and Laurel wondered whether he'd want to go back there or not. The idea of a long distance relationship wasn't necessarily appealing to him. Or did Ash expect him to move out to the middle of nowhere? There were already so many unanswered questions, and their new bond only made everything more confusing.

"I do, but it's alright. A few hours by train is nothing, really, in the scheme of things."

"So you wouldn't mind having to go back and visit a lot?"

Eyebrow perking up, Ash eased back so he could look into Laurel's face to search his expression. "Are you actually verbalizing that there may be some level of permanence to my being here?"

"I was just asking," Laurel growled, instantly embarrassed. "It… It doesn't matter to me what you do."

"Right," Ash replied, a slow grin making its way across his mouth as he stared at the sorcerer, whose cheeks were becoming increasingly pink. "You really are the most delightful person I could ever have asked for."

"You're so ridiculous," Laurel griped, though he couldn't bring himself to struggle as the healer wrapped him in a tight hug, kissing his golden crown of hair.

"I know you don't care what I do or whether I stay or not, but I'll tell you my dream would be to have a house in both places so we could stay in Sweethaven sometimes, too."

"We?"

Making a noise of assent as he nodded, Ash pressed more kisses along Laurel's temple. "That's what I said. When we're here, you can work in your studio making pieces, and I'll keep the house. My jobs are erratic, so that'll give me something to do when I'm not working."

"You want to cook and clean?" Laurel asked, too surprised to react appropriately to the healer's assertion of them living together.

"I didn't want to break your dad's heart, since he seems so intent on you being a cute little domestic house-husband like him, but-"

"I'm not going to tell you the number, but there's a limited amount of times you can call my dad cute again without me hitting you."

"Sorry," Ash chuckled. "My point is, I don't mind playing housekeeper. And I can stay home full-time when we have kids so you don't go insane. Not anytime soon or anything," he quickly tacked on, at Laurel's shocked expression.

"You know, I don't think I'll ever quite get used to you saying the most insane things like that."

"You will," Ash promised him. "Eventually."

Under the soft moonlight, teased by cool gusts of wind, wrapped in a shirt that smelled like Ash, Laurel thought maybe the things he was saying weren't the most insane. Not that he would have ever admitted it out loud.

"So I don't mind being more domestic to spare you," Ash said, breaking a long bout of peaceful silence. "But maybe you could buy one of those lacy maid outfits and a feather duster and pretend to clean." When Laurel only stared at him, unblinking, he went on. "You know, with the stockings and the tiny little skirt."

"You really have no shame."

"Why would I feel ashamed of wanting to see you in cute outfits?" Ash asked, grinning at the obvious blush spreading over Laurel's face. "Your body is absolutely perfect for that kind of thing."

"Please." It was all he could think to say to such an astonishingly embarrassing suggestion, though even more embarrassing was that he couldn't find it within himself to explicitly refuse the idea. "You…" Trailing off, Laurel felt a chill rack through his body. He shuddered, eyes raking over the courtyard below them for the flicker of movement he'd seen.

"Are you alright?" Ash asked, concerned by the sudden wave of stress.

"Did you see someone down there?" Laurel asked, feeling his breath catch a little.

"I didn't see anyone."

"I swear someone was watching us."

"It was probably just someone that works in the castle walking by," Ash suggested gently, running a hand over Laurel's arm. "Don't worry."

"Yeah," Laurel replied, though he didn't sound at all convinced. "Can we go back inside?"

"Of course." Giving the courtyard below one last backward glance, Ash led them back into the room. He didn't comment when Laurel locked the door behind them, something that hadn't been done since he'd moved into the castle at Nero's request.

"Ash?" Cuddled against his firm chest in the warm bed, Laurel's voice was soft but slightly haunted.

"Hm?"

"Can you help me fall asleep?"

"Absolutely." It was something Laurel only asked for occasionally, but he was always happy to oblige. Stroking his fingertips over soft locks of pale hair, Ash conjured his smooth magic, cresting it out to envelop Laurel's body. Nearly instantly, he felt Laurel's muscles relax against him. "Goodnight, gorgeous."

He lay awake long after they'd turned out the light. Though he was overjoyed at the incredible link that had formed between them, confirming everything he'd already known about how they were destined to be together, there was also a foreboding feeling in Ash that wouldn't seem to fade. As close as they'd become, and as much as they'd already endured undoing all the anguished knots inside Laurel, his instincts told him that there was still more pain to come.