choicely | open post;

[ If he didn't inwardly enjoy her bossiness, at least in part, there is no doubt in her mind that he would make his annoyance known — he might not be the particularly chatty type, but nothing has ever kept Geralt of Rivia in a situation if he does not wish to be there himself, even in some small way.

But she does not always need words to bid him stay beneath her; there have been moments when all that is required is a simple look between them and he finds her warm and willing against his fingers, or beneath his tongue.

She might not notice until much later that his hand is cradling her, guiding her, keeping her from losing control of her momentum — especially when he utters that taunt across her mouth and it nearly prompts a breath of a laugh. ]

Dear friend? [ She punctuates the retort with a firmer drive of her hips, seating herself on him harder to try and make him groan. ] Is that what he seemed to you? Like anyone of consequence?

Hmm.

( no, that's not what he seemed like. he seemed like a throwaway, like someone she was going to use for something and then send on his way. hopefully that something wasn't anything important since geralt is fairly certain that she's not going to see him again.

so, geralt just smiles up at her, mouthing at her chin and jaw while she moves, while she sinks down harder against him, drawing out a sharp moan. the moan turns into a laugh and he licks at her throat, digging her fingers into her back to keep himself anchored. )

I suppose that means I'm of more consequence than he is?

Is that what you want me to say?

[ If he'd even worked up the nerve to come back and look for her after Geralt had all but frightened him off, she imagines he's likely given up by now in searching, writing her off as someone unimportant — which is ironic, considering she's done the same for him long before this moment. She doesn't necessarily want to afford any credit to Geralt, however, for diverting her so successfully — even though they're both up here in this room doing something that tends to be so distracting.

Her eyes briefly flutter shut as he mouths over her skin, her jawline, making her skin prickle where he's caressing her, and after a moment her pace becomes slower, gentler, as she's flushed with delirious warmth; unconsciously, she might even be trying to prolong this more than she realizes, as her voice leaves her in a lower murmur. ]

Do you want me to tell you that you matter?

I know I mattered to you. Once.

( it hadn't been too long ago, he thinks. not long when it comes to them and how long they've known each other now. he doesn't know if maybe that's changed with space and time but it hasn't for him.

he peers up at her, eyes glassy, mouth tipped open as he presses forward and kisses her chin again. )

Is that different now? Do I not?

( he will be...fine if that's the case. he won't exactly be thrilled and he's not going to stay afterward if it is but he will understand. )

[ It irritates her, like she has nettle juice itching underneath her skin and can't scratch deep enough to make the feeling stop when he says things like that to her — the uncomfortable prickling that accompanies the realization that what he's saying isn't entirely untrue. She doesn't know why it feels like it'd be giving him a certain level of satisfaction by admitting to it, telling him to his face what he means to her, but her first instinct is to resist saying so.

The fact that she's here with him now should be more than enough, shouldn't it? That she's here in this room, in this bed, with him buried inside her and her already gasping for breath, clenching around him? Does this not serve as proof of how little things between them have actually changed?

She slows in her rhythm, but doesn't stop altogether, realizing that he's looking to her now, searching her eyes, and before she can think better of it she's taking his face between both hands and kissing him tenderly. ]

I could have stayed downstairs. [ But she hadn't, and she wants to believe that can speak for itself. ] I could have left.

( he doesn't know why he chances ruining this with questions like that. he's not usually one to talk, not like this especially not during sex. even with her, he tends to be quiet, show what he feels in other ways but this is a different time all together and he'd spoken.

he doesn't know if he's pushed too far because he can feel her slowing down but she doesn't make to move. instead, she takes his face in her hands ands he speaks, staying where she is. that kiss is tender, slow, and it shakes him.

he closes his eyes because he doesn't know what to do or say. he knows that this isn't going to heal whatever wounds are between them but it's something. )

You could have.

( and yet, she was here, with him, in his room, tucked away and wrapped around him. it's something. it's an answer and it makes him want to cling to her. )

[ It's the closest she's ever veered to telling him something that could threaten to split her wide open, leave her heart exposed and vulnerable and right there for someone to reach into her chest and pluck it out. She could have ignored what he asked, pretended she never heard it at all, kissed him to distract him just long enough so that he forgets he even broached the subject. The fact that she'd responded is telling in and of itself.

But now she can feel her own control of the situation beginning to slip through her fingers and she likes that less, so she plants a hand against his chest to gently push him into laying back against the bed, rearing up over him with a fresh rolling of her hips. ]

Next time we're getting more clothes off of you first. [ It goes unspoken too but she wants to see him, feel more of his skin beneath her fingers, experience the delicious slide of bodies or the tips of her nipples grazing his scarred chest. ] And a bath.

[ He doesn't smell, not really, not worse than she has smelled on him in the past, but again, it's a selfish declaration, perhaps just wanting to put him in one so she can join him there and fuck him again until they splash all of the water out of the tub. ]

Next time?

( of all the things that she says, that's what geralt picks up. not the fact that he needs a bath or he needs to take off clothes. no, it's the fact that there will be a next time and she's the one making that claim, not him.

he peers up at her and laughs, unable to help himself. laughs at the fact that she wants him to bathe and she wants there to be a next time. he leans in closer and presses his mouth to her jaw before he nods because fine, he'll take a fucking bathe if she wants. )

Are you going to be bathing with me?

Isn't that what I said?

[ As if she hadn't uttered the words more like a passing thought, only to realize she'd voiced them aloud after the fact; it's not until he calls attention to it that she's newly aware of how she's putting all of this into context, that she's already starting to consider this the first of many orchestrated tumbles. But she also has the faint sense that only once won't be enough to adequately get him out of her system if they're planning on each going their separate ways once they've left this room.

And she would like, very much, to be able to get him out of her system, or at least to feel as though she has.

But the sensation of him mouthing against her jawline as she rocks over him, on him, makes her clench around his cock, makes her slick him anew, and she braces herself down closer to his face, propping herself up on a forearm next to his head. ]

I have to. I'll have you all over me by then.

You make it sound like such a bad thing.

( she doesn't, not really. but he points it out to both get under her skin and to see what she says to him. his hands grip hard at her hips and he tries to sink her further down on his cock, tries to bury himself deeper inside of her because he doesn't want her to ever have him out of her system.

he wants her to always have a touch of him inside of her or on her just as he knows he'll always feel like that for her as well. )

Like I'm that bad to have all over you.

( and now that she's said that, he's going to make sure it happens. )

It is when you smell more of Roach than me.

[ She wouldn't really turn up her nose at the smell of horse, not truly, unless he'd been in the saddle for weeks without anything resembling a bath and then attempted this same thing with her. She would've overturned a bucket of water on him before she'd let him press against her like that, but there is something to be said for the scent of clean sweat, of what happens when they've dripped enough to slide against one another and enjoy that slickness.

Perhaps she'll call for the innkeeper to draw them a bath solely with the intention of getting to fuck him in it.

But she wants to goad him on, to see what he'll do if she challenges him enough, so she fixes her gaze on him, quiet and steady, and controls the pace of her hips no matter how he tries to make her move himself. ]

Then get yourself all over me. Your sweat, your spit, your come. Until I can't tell where I end and you start.

( geralt's not overly easy to goad but there are buttons that she can press, places she can twist and manipulate and he knows it. he knows she knows it as well so he keeps his expression neutral even while she starts a slow, steady grind. he wants more. of fucking course he wants more but she's determined not to give it to him.

still, he presses up closer to her, lips hovering in front of hers and then he licks at her mouth since she wants to be covered in his smell and taste and everything else. )

Then, you might need a bath as well. How untoward.

[ It's even more damning when he licks at her, tongue curling a wet stripe across her mouth, which only makes her squeeze around his cock where they're joined together, like her body is betraying her in its natural response to slowly being bathed in him before she can even pretend she doesn't enjoy it.

As a retort, she reaches up to curve her fingers in his hair, over the nape of his neck, and slowly maneuvers him down to her throat, wanting to feel his tongue elsewhere on her skin. ]

It's the least you can do for rendering me so filthy. [ As if they've never gone at it for hours until they're both dripping with sweat, until the room itself smells of sex and heat. She wonders if he's thinking of those nights as well, now. ] I'll get into that bath and then I'll fuck you in it.

( geralt's response to that is a huff of a laugh against her neck and then he licks at her throat, finding the spot where her pulse thumps against her skin and biting it. he doesn't pull away immediately, worrying that skin between his teeth to maybe make a mark.

but, he licks at it once he's satisfied and then he eases back up, reaching down and grabbing at her ass to try and sink her further onto his cock. )

That would waste a lot of water, wouldn't it? ( he is not arguing, though. )

Wouldn't it waste more if we bathed separate?

[ Her question is hushed, rushed even, a tumble of words that almost stutters from her mouth when he licks over her skin and then bites against her pulse in a way that makes her cunt pulse right along with it, grip him tight where they're joined. She'll be wearing the marks from his teeth long after he's gone, and perhaps she won't even move to heal them immediately, bruises she can stroke her fingers over well beyond the time that the bed has cooled.

She might even be so distracted by him worrying a mark into her throat that she won't resist when he coaxes her into sinking down further, letting his hands round her down until his cock is buried, and there she rolls her hips, savoring the sensation of being deeply filled. ]

But I think you want me to come for you first. And I know you want to come for me.

Do I?

( yes, he does. he absolutely wants to come for her right now and again and again. he wants to come inside and on her and all over her to both make sure that she doesn't forget him whenever they do part and that he has these memories to tide him over until they meet in the future.

he shudders as she sinks down on him, feeling himself pressed deep with her slickness cradling him. he licks his lips and then arches closer and licks at her mouth before he pulls her into another long, lingering kiss. )

Yes, I do. I want both of those things.

( before she takes that as teasing and decides to try and pull away from him. )

Then roll us over and fuck me properly.

[ It's a pleasurable position, to be sure, and she could very well come exactly like this, sitting on him, riding him until her body tenses and all of that pressure gives way to a flood that drenches his cock — but part of her wants to feel him rutting hard between her thighs, to wrap her legs around him and let him take her against the mattress without holding anything back. It doesn't matter if she leaves here with bruises when she knows she wants them already.

They're both done teasing at this particular juncture, and for a while she might even be done with talking, at least until he gives her what she's asking for — demanding, really.

But somehow, she knows that he'll make good on it, especially when it's clear they've both had enough of slow and building. ] And don't you dare come until I say so.

And what happens if I don't listen to you? If I decide to fuck you until I come when I want to come.

( with that being said, he grabs her around the waist and rolls them, shifting until she's on her back and he's on top of her. he reaches for her hands, pinning them above her head, one of his own hands around her wrists. he doesn't expect her to keep them there but he wants the sight of her to be burned into his memories. )

What are you going to do if I decide to ignore your command, hm?

Then you’d better make sure I’ve come first by then.

[ She knows he won’t leave her unsatisfied; he also knows better than to do that, but she’s unprepared for how much she likes it when he pins he into the bed with his weight, gathers her wrists up in one hand and draws her arms up above her head, stretching the line of her body out long beneath him and leaving her displayed for his pleasure.

The position has the effect of making her arch, her breasts thrust upward when her back curves, and she’s breathing harder against his mouth without meaning to give away her enjoyment of it, even if he can probably feel how wet she is with even the slightest shift of his hips. ]

I know you’ve been waiting to do this, so do it.

Is that an order?

( and just because she demands it, he doesn't do it. he doesn't move away from her or anything ridiculous like that but he slows himself down intentionally, keeping his hands around the wrists over her head. )

Or is that just a request? Do you want me to move because you cannot stand it just as much as I can't? Tell me.

( he has been wanting to do this but he wants to hear it from her too. )

It's a —

[ He slows, of all the times to do it in, and her words cut off in a frustrated grunt as she rocks herself up against him, trying to fuck herself on him if he won't do it for her — but the angle isn't right for it, and she has even less of an advantage when he's pinned her wrists to the bed. She isn't fighting him on it, though, isn't struggling to get free, not when her thighs are squeezing at his hips and she's still slick around his cock, godsdamn him.

But then she realizes what he wants to hear from her — what he wants as proof that she wants this just as much, and maybe she can let go of her pride long enough to admit it, confess the truth. ]

I — I want you to move because I've been aching for you to fuck me since I first saw you downstairs. [ It spills out in the space between her mouth and his, as her lips caress his on almost every syllable. ] Surely you could sense it then.

( yennefer was difficult to read on the best of days so while he'd wanted to hope that she wanted him as much as he wanted her, he hadn't known when they'd seen each other. he'd taken a chance and that chance was paying off right now.

for a moment after she makes her confession, he's quiet, just looking down at her, taking in a face that has become so important to him before he kisses her and fucks into her at the same time. his breath gusts across her face as he moves, resumes the thrusting that had gotten them to this point.

he whispers her name against her cheek, mouth open against her skin as his hips pump harder and harder, filling the small room with the sounds of their pleasure. )

[ How much of this has been the two of them circling one another, uncertain, unwilling to take the first step forward and cross the invisible line that so is so often drawn between them? There's enough stubbornness that exists on both sides to rival even what chaos is capable of, she thinks, with a wry twist of her mouth that dissolves altogether when his mouth comes down on hers, when he fucks into her at the same time so that the moan that spills out of her directly feeds right into him, like he's drawn her sounds into himself.

But she doesn't pry her lips away from his; if anything, she wants him close to her, wants their breaths to mingle, to keep their mouths practically fused. Even when she has to gasp for air, she doesn't stray far, arching up into him as best as she's able with her wrists pinned, letting him feel her desire in every inch of her body as she wraps her legs around his waist and lets him sink deeper into her.

She can hear the bed creaking beneath them, scraping across the floor; it would come as no surprise to her if they're making enough noise now for anyone within earshot to know what they're doing in here, but she doesn't care. Selfishly, she wants them to hear how well she's being fucked, and there's nothing feigned in the pleasure he's stoking in her, the way the tension within builds higher and hotter until she threatens to unravel beneath him, her thighs shaking on either side of his hips. ] Don't stop — Geralt —

( she doesn't need to worry, he's not going to stop. he couldn't stop if he wanted to at this point in time, so wrapped up in her, so completely enamored and focused on their pleasure that everything around them seems to fade out for the moment.

her voice is still loud to his ears though, urging him on and he grunts as he fucks into her, muffling his moans and his gasps of her name against her mouth while he kisses her.

he finally let's go of her wrists because he wants to reach down, find her clit and rub at it vigorously to make sure her orgasm is as hot and hard as he knows his is going to be. )

Come on, come on, come on.

( he urges her on but finds that he can't hold himself back, fucking into her one last time and holding himself there while he spills inside of her. his body stiffens, tightening up like a cord, but his fingers keep rubbing at her clit to make sure she goes right over that edge with him. )

[ Once he’s given her what she wants — what they both want — there’s something in him that always seems driven to see it through, like he won’t be satisfied with himself until he’s satisfied her too. That single-mindedness makes him a lethal fighter, capable of taking down any strong threat — but it also makes him the sort of lover that she doesn’t want to surrender easily, because she hasn’t had it as good before or since him.

By the time he shoves a hand between her legs, seeking out her clit, she almost cries out against his mouth; she’s so tender, and the build so great, that she can feel it slippery where they’re joined, where he rubs over her, where the strokes of his cock inside her are rendered audibly slick from her arousal, and it’s inevitable, her release, but she’s holding off, denying herself that surrender for just a few moments more —

He pulls her, end over end, into that abyss with him, spilling into her with a rough grunt, and it only takes those next presses of his fingers for her to come apart, dissolving into uncontrolled shudders as her moan breaks off in her throat. She’s already sweaty, hair sticking to the sides of her neck and a visible sheen on her skin, making a bath even more necessary, but in the immediate aftermath she doesn’t move, doesn’t push him off of her either. Instead, she brings a hand down to gently brush some silver hair back from where it’s hanging in front of his face, her touch gently skimming along his temple, as she gazes over his features, trying to decipher his reaction. ]

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