choicely | open post;

[ 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. ]

( in the immediate aftermath, all geralt can really do is pant and press his face against her neck, smelling the scent of sweat and sex on her now that they've finished. he swallows a few times before he feels her hands brushing at his hair and that's enough to make him pick up his head to peer down at her.

he wants to say something but he's not sure what he should say. they've been apart for quite some time but it feels like no time at all after this. his eyes skim over her face, her features and he leans down and presses the lightest of kisses against her lips before he eases off of her to the side.

he doesn't completely separate from her, keeping an arm and a leg across her as he settles down. )

I didn't expect that tonight.

( because he hadn't expected to see her. )

[ It's better for them both if neither has anything to say right away — and there is always that moment in the immediate thereafter when words seem to fail them, when all they can do is breathe one another in and try to come back to the present after having something that practically transcends it. (Not that she'd ever say as much to him, but what she experiences with him is unlike any other lover she's had, even if her bed has been distinctly cold over the last several years.)

Selfishly, she doesn't want him to go too far so she's privately glad when he doesn't, rolling over slowly to her side to face him while they both attempt to catch their breaths. ]

In fairness, you didn't expect me from the beginning.

[ Not in Rinde, when he'd been looking for a sorcerer and found her instead. ]

No, that's true. I wasn't.

( he sometimes thinks about what sort of life he'd be leading if their paths hadn't intersected. it's hard to think of things now without her there either in the middle of things or at least on the periphery when they haven't seen each other in some time.

she's always there though, never far from his mind.

he sighs and leans closer, pressing his lips to her shoulder. )

Who was that you were with? What did you have him with you for?

[ She doesn't completely flinch away from him, but there is a part of her that stills when he immediately shifts to make reference of the man she'd been with — someone of little meaning and even less consequence, but someone he'd deemed as important enough to dwell on in spite of the fact that she's very clearly in his bed.

So initially she just blinks at him, inwardly wondering why he seems bent on mentioning it now of all times. ]

I hardly have him now, do I? [ A chuckle slips from her, mostly conjured by how relaxed she is; if they hadn't just fucked, she'd be a lot more defensive about the question. ]

Someone I thought might be useful, but only turned out to be another disappointment.

Hm.

( he doesn't press it, having just been curious about what she'd been planning with someone in tow. but, he's gone now and she's here for however long she's going to stay.

so, he drops the question and sighs, stroking his fingers along the hip his hand's landed on. )

When do you have to leave?

Not immediately.

[ Which isn't a firm answer, but it's more telling that she isn't confining herself to an immediate time of departure, which wouldn't have been the case if their paths had never crossed at this tavern; there is a part of her, however slight, that is tempted to be the one who leaves first, solely due to the number of times she's rolled over to find the bed cold beside her, the right amount of coin left on the table to pay for the room's use.

She doesn't shy away from his hand either, shifting onto her side to let his touch follow the curve of her hip. ]

Have you tired of me already?

No.

( that wasn't the reason he asked. more that he wanted to see how much time he was going to be able to steal with her before one of them had to go. her answer is vague but he knows it leaves her flexibility in case something happens between them that sends one of them stomping off.

his touch settles heavily against her hip and he taps his fingers against the curve there before he looks back up at her. )

That won't happen.

[ Some small, nagging part of her isn't convinced that she can believe him when he says that, especially when she's woken up to an empty room in the past — but what does it truly mean that she wants to, wants to trust that she'll wake up to find him occupying the space next to hers, that this room will still smell of sweat and sex hours from now because they haven't yet tired of one another?

She isn't willing to let herself, not yet, but for now, while they're here, he has her, and she considers both him and the current state of their remaining clothes with a small scrunch of her nose. ]

Shall we summon that bath next? Or perhaps ask the innkeeper to bring up a tray and a pitcher of wine, so we might replenish ourselves?

[ The implication there being she's far from done with him yet, but rather than roll back between the bedcovers and continue, she has more selfish designs on getting him into a tub. ]

( a smile flickers it's way across his face at the choices. wine would be good but he thinks wine could be for later. he doesn't think he needs something just yet.

so, he rolls onto his back, reaching over to slide his hand up and down her stomach while he pretends to think. )

Bath, perhaps. I don't feel a need for wine just yet but we did just make a mess of each other.

( so yes, a bath. he thinks that would be the best thing for them. )

[ She might not ever admit to it, but she enjoys the casual way he touches her after they fuck — like an afterthought, something he might not even fully be aware he's doing, his hand coming down on her skin to keep preserving some physical tether of connection between them. ]

Good.

[ She leans forward, pressing her lips to the round of his shoulder, once and then again before she grazes her teeth into the meat of him, hardly a significant injury given how many other injuries he's endured. ]

Your room, you ask them to bring one up. [ She'll crawl up the bed to position herself beneath the covers, leaning back against the headboard with a satisfied smile on her mouth. ]

( geralt really doesn't want to get up but someone is going to have to and she certainly doesn't seem to be making any moves. scowling, he moves to sit up, putting his feet on the floor.

the chill hits him immediately and he grumbles under his breath about having to get up and leave the room while he puts on some clothes. he knows that the bath will be worth it but he still doesn't want to make the effort.

but he does, departing the room to find someone who can help with a bath while she lounges lazily in bed. )

[ Meanwhile, Yennefer is more than content to linger abed, although she does make a point to draw the covers up over herself so she doesn't surprise an unwitting maid downstairs when the bath is inevitably dragged upstairs for them to make use of.

Truly, she'd thought it would have taken more goading from her to convince Geralt to handle it himself, but his eventual willingness to do so speaks to something that she may not fully be prepared to address between them.

It doesn't take long, however, for him to return, and Yennefer props herself up against the pillows in quiet observation, the sheets drawn up to her shoulders — although one arm slips free — as she watches the tub first hauled into the room before it's filled with buckets of steaming water. If any of the maids cast a furtive glance in the direction of the bed, she doesn't acknowledge them significantly; clearly they have seen much lewder displays, and besides, her eye is drawn more to the silhouette of the witcher in the doorway, watching the tub be prepared for them before moving to pay them sufficient coin for their troubles.

When the door finally closes again, returning them to their privacy, she sits up, the sheet falling to her waist, and gives a nod in the direction of the bath. ]

You first. [ Is it a demand made because she wants to watch him strip for her? Probably. ]

( geralt makes sure the door is locked behind the attendants and then he turns to her, grunting in amusement when she instructs him to go in first. he doesn't say anything as he moves to take his clothes off, staring at her as he does.

he tugs his shirt off first, letting it drop on the floor and then takes his pants off, kicking those aside. he stands there, letting her enjoy the view, before he huffs and moves to slide into the bath.

the water is warm and he sighs as he settles down, unable to keep that noise of pleasure from slipping out. )

[ The first time between them, after countless days of not even so much as being in the same room, had been defined by something more raw and desperate, each of them clutching onto each other and almost freeing only what they needed to before he sank himself inside her. Now, the hour seems to stretch out longer since she's chosen to stay, and she finds herself content to lay back in the bed and watch him slowly disrobe, her eyes shamelessly roaming over every part of his body that he uncovers as if it is a treat only for her.

She's certain she's not imagining the brief pause he affords to let her drink her fill before finally sinking into the water — which he makes look very inviting, based on that groan, but even as she finally extricates herself from the bedsheets and drifts over to join him, she doesn't slip into the tub right away.

Instead, she reaches for some of the soap that has been set aside for them to use, kneeling beside the bath and dipping it into the water before running it across the expanse of his chest, all without uttering a word. ]

I smell that badly?

( his tone is soft though, surprised. he'd thought she'd join him in the tub and things would happen from there but she does something different and he's surprised. ordinarily, he might be a little irritated by someone washing him but he relaxes under her ministrations. )

Or do you think I won't do a good job of it so you're making sure that someone else does?

( he doesn't know why she's doing it and he's curious. )

Or I'm trying to give you the opportunity to relax and enjoy being touched by a woman whose company you don't have to pay coin for.

[ She has more selfish reasons for doing this first, tending to him instead of immediately joining him in the tub, and they all start and end with her getting to put her hands on him in a slower and more intentional manner, even as she washes away the more obvious remnants of their earlier fucking from his skin.

Her touch doesn't stray below his waist yet; if it did, she imagines she'd be in the bath with him sooner rather than later, but she is required to partially lean across his body in order to reach his opposite arm, pressing her own fingers beneath it and running the soap along one muscled limb. ]

I am doing a rather good job; you can admit it.

You're not doing terrible.

( it was better than good, really. people have both tried to wash and succeeded in washing geralt before but he's never actually wanted someone to do that. most of them, they'd been trying to bathe him so they could put some terrible clothes on him to make him gallivant around at some party.

that's not where this is leading to, though, and he's thankful for that. it's one of the biggest reasons that he let's her continue and why he starts to relax slightly. )

I didn't always have to pay.

Whatever will I do with such a glowing endorsement?

[ Still, even something that seems like backhanded praise is more than many others often receive; she's spent enough hours in his company to recognize those glimmers of sincerity, and she can feel the tension easing from his shoulders the longer he remains in the bath, the longer he continues to permit her to clean him. ]

I suppose some might find appeal in the bulging muscles look.

[ Now it's her turn to pay the backhanded compliment, but it's also done to disguise the slight twist in her chest over hearing about him with anyone else — even if it's only someone working at a brothel and no encounter of any significant consequence. ]

I don't know. Perhaps it's something you can use to get yourself more coin should another kingdom try and recruit you as their mage.

( though he's not sure if she'd ever really go back to that. yennefer isn't the type to be under someone's thumb like that even for good money. )

And they are not bulging.

( he was big, he knows that, but he doesn't think he looks misshapen. )

I've spent enough years minding kings to last me several more lifetimes, I doubt I'll need to resort to becoming anyone's personal bather, thank you very much.

[ She'd rather resort to selling minor decoctions and infusions for whatever coin she can scrummage up instead of having to perch by someone seated on a throne and clean up whatever idiotic political mess they've stumbled into purely as a point of pride. ]

They're very large. Especially in your thighs. [ She lets the soap slip from her fingers into the tub itself, listening for it to sink to the bottom with a dull thud, and then hoists herself up and into the water with him, seating herself in his lap rather than assuming her own space on the other end. ] Makes for a perfect seat, actually.

Yes, that's why I've trained so much. I wanted my thighs to make just the perfect, pillowy seat for mages.

( not that he minds what she's done, of course. he pulls his hands away to give her space and once she settles down, he wraps one arm around he waist to pull her back against him. )

Why would you sit anywhere else then?

Pillowy is a far cry from sturdy, which these are.

[ She doesn't struggle against him when he slips an arm around her waist; perhaps she's more relaxed now than she was when they first walked into the room, because now she reclines against him without any resistance, tipping her head back against his shoulder, her legs falling to drape across his longer ones.

She breathes out slowly, head lolling to one side until her nose nudges against his jaw, even in a manner that could be considered a nuzzling in the right light. ]

Are you asking me to sit in your lap in lieu of choosing any other seat from now on?

No, that's not what I'm saying. I certainly wouldn't mind it but there could be situations where it wouldn't work.

( if they were in the midst of something intense and confrontational, having her sit on his lap might be a distraction. he laughs though at the possibility. )

But, I don't mind that you're sitting here now. You fit very well.

Perhaps, but it is an amusing thought.

[ And she's certainly occupied much more uncomfortable seats than this; the fact that she hasn't immediately shifted to vacate his lap is probably the most telling part of all, as is the soft hum that docks in her throat when she draws the scent of his skin into her senses.

She may have taken the soap to him, but there's still his unmistakable, almost indescribable musk underneath, and she isn't shrinking away from him in the slightest, pressing her lips to the underside of his chin. ]

At least the tub isn't too cramped to fit us both. [ She kisses his neck again, over the steady thrum of his pulse. ] Perhaps there's even enough space for you to reach my back with the soap now.

open post;

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

(no subject)

(no subject)

(no subject)

(no subject)

(no subject)

(no subject)

(no subject)

(no subject)

(no subject)