What a funny thing for a sick man to insist... [Sherwood laughs breezily, before deciding that Fuuta's griping deserves him some further messing with. Soaking as much of his glove in the lubricant as he can, he very slowly strokes the cock in his hold. The deft turn of his wrist and milking tightening of his grip to the base, only to loosen as he reached the tip is clearly skilled. Going at a slow pace not done out of awkwardness, but very much deliberately.

He speaks quietly to Fuuta's ear, like he's sharing a secret to him,]

To be truthful, as a druid... my hands are rather dangerous things. Fortunately, I don't need to take my gloves off to heal your particular affliction.