choicely | open post;

[ As much as she wouldn't object to Geralt's aggressiveness in the moment, and she's starting to have difficulty remembering why she wouldn't want that as soon as he finally puts hands on her, the fact remains that this is currently the only dress on her person; chances are she could conjure something else to wear, but that would be as a last resort.

There is a momentary thrill, however brief, that runs through her when she thinks about wearing something of his to replace it, but then she remembers it would likely smell of horse, and that suddenly makes the possibility much less appealing in her mind.

The buttons that meet his fingers, though, as he starts to fiddle with them, are smaller, with eyelet hooks that run down along the length of her spine — and the more he unfastens, the more the fabric parts away from her shoulders, leaving more skin open for him to touch directly. Her hands are similarly busy on his shirt, though, drawing the ties loose and then immediately reaching for where he's tucked it into his trousers, trying to yank it free — all without breaking that ongoing collision of their mouths. ]

( it would probably be easier to stop kissing so they could take their clothes off but when had they ever done anything easy? he doesn't want to stop kissing her, not after fuck knows how long without her. as soon as he'd seen her downstairs, all he could think about was her. there were very few things that could take his focus so completely and she was one of them.

he's impressed with himself that he's even able to get the clasps of her dress undone without breaking them but again, she distracts him when the dress pulling away means his fingers brush against warm skin. he moans just from that simple touch and grabs at the edges of the dress to pull it down more roughly, uncaring if it rips now.

he just knows that he has to touch her, that he wants to touch her more than anything else in the world right now. )

[ She’d thought she’d be turned off by the taste of the ale on his lips, whatever poor excuse they’re serving down below their feet, but it’s a fleeting thing compared to his own undefinable flavor, the way his tongue meets hers with the same amount of focus and purpose to which he applies his sword — and she doesn’t know how long it’s been since last they kissed, but it all comes back to her as easily as instinct.

When his need earns the better of him and he starts tugging down her dress with more intent, she shifts to assist him in it, rolling her shoulders as she pries her arms free of the sleeves, leaving the fabric to bunch around her waist and her upper half exposed for his sight, his touch.

Doing so means she’s broken the kiss after all and for a moment she just looks up at him, panting lightly, before gathering up one of his hands and leading it to cup over her bare breast, the nipple forming into a point against his palm. ]

( when it comes to her, there's always the need for more. more of her, more of her touch and more of her taste. she gives him everything and yet he cannot help but want more. he wants to surround himself with her and to forget about what he's done in the past, what he'll do in the future.

he just wants to focus on the now.

and she helps him with that when she tugs her dress down, giving him more of her to touch. he doesn't resist when she pulls his hand to her breast, covering her it easily with his palm before rolling the nipple underneath his thumb, wanting to feel it harden into a point against his skin while he licks his way back into another kiss. )

[ She would never say as much, but she thrills in the way he touches her, kisses her, as though he’s making up for lost time, as though there is no time that even exists beyond the borders of this room while they’re in it together. It would be just like him to leave her practically feeling as if no time has passed at all between now and the last night where they made use of a bed together — or had it been a table?

He licks into her mouth and she moans, shifting into him, simultaneously furious that he can wring that noise from her so easily and wanting him to do it again. She even brings her hands up and plants them against his chest to shove him once, away from her, the kiss breaking, but the second she lays eyes on his glinting pair she smirks, taking one step forward and then another, trying to back him up toward the bed. ]

Do I ride you, or will you try to ride me?

Try?

( she shoves him and he takes a few steps, letting her push him without resistance. he could, he knows, not move because his strength greatly outnumbers hers. but, he doesn't really mind when she pushes him around which is why he moves.

he smirks at her as he does though, backing up until he feels the edge of the bed at his knees. )

I could do more than try and you know it.

You could. But would you?

[ She almost wants to test him on purpose, an extension of the desire to make him utter more than two words to her sometimes; provoking him for fun can often end in very entertaining results for her, and not necessarily always in bed. There have been times where he’s taken her against the wall with her skirt barely lifted up over her waist because she’s goaded him into it, and she hasn’t bothered to heal the bruises from him gripping her thighs afterward, wanting to see them linger until they fade.

In answer, she gives him another shove, not even remotely hard enough to make him topple over — but if he plays along, it’ll send him down to sit on the bed so she can immediately hoist herself into a straddle across his thighs once she finally wrests herself out of her dress, fully naked and sitting on his mostly clothed frame. ]

I think you want me to ride you here, just like this.

( that's a good question. would he? he doesn't answer, choosing instead to let her continue to push him and push him and push him until he hits the bed and sits down, bracing himself with one hand.

he looks up, a retort on his tongue but she's cuts off anything he wants to say by starting to take off her dress. all he can do is exhale heavily, watching more and more of her skin reveal itself to him until she's naked.

and then she's stepping forward and folding herself onto his lap. she's a slight weight in comparison to him but he still feels it right against his cock and he groans a bit. )

And what makes you think that? I could just be indulging you.

Well, that’s one of the smarter decisions you’ve made today.

[ She can’t let it go without teasing him along those lines, but she’s pleased and they both know it, especially when she settles over top of him and earns that groan from his throat — different than a grunt, or a grumble even. It’s a very unique sound she can elicit from his throat, and it all has to do with her arranging her weight on him, shifting so that she can briefly feel the hard line of his cock through his pants.

She can’t resist grinding on him a little, enjoying how stiff he’s become, but she’s collecting his hands in the meantime and putting them back on her naked body, wanting him to touch her as she moves. ]

Is this still your definition of indulging me? [ She ducks her head, drawing one of his fingers in between her teeth, and then sucks on its tip before letting it slip free. ] Or this? Are you merely tolerating it for my sake?

Tolerating it. All I'm doing it tolerating it and you.

( that's a lie and they both know it. his tone is light, amused because there's nothing about what he's doing that's indulging her. if anything, she's indulging him by allowing him to see her naked and letting him touch her.

when she does encourage that touch, he doesn't hesitate, short nails raking up her back before he digs those fingers into her hips and leans down, covering her breast with his mouth and biting at her nipple.

she might be indulging him but he absolutely knows how to work her body when they are this close to each other. )

That sounds about right.

[ It isn't, but she can lie as smoothly as he does, pretend that this isn't exactly what they both want and that she isn't giving in to satisfy more than a quick superficial need. He'll wrest just as many noises from her as she does him, though, especially when he touches her with more insistence, more pressure — when she can feel his blunt nails dragging across her skin before he ducks his head down and wraps his mouth around a peak that aches for him, wringing a sharper moan from her throat.

She just cradles him even closer to her in retaliation, rocking in his lap, knowing he'll experience the friction just as thoroughly as she does with the fabric of his trousers still in between them and her hips undulating while he nips and sucks at her breasts.

Even when she starts to leave a wet spot on his clothes from rubbing her bare cunt against the hard ridge of his cock, it's not enough to make her stop; she could likely finish the first time just from riding him like this, before he ever gets inside her. Part of her wants to, to use him like that, but she's not thinking about what it gives away too — that she's needed it for so long it won't take much to make her come already. ]

( geralt knows that it's been some time since they last saw each other and yet, it feels like no time at all with how well they fit together, how easily they come together like this. he thinks he could just suck at her breast for as long as she'll let him, build her up just like this and see if she'll come.

and he knows she will with how she rocks down against his cock, how insistent he can feel her moving and how damp his pants are just from the slickness of her cunt.

he pants a bit because while he could do this, he knows he wants more and he knows she wants more too. )

Lift. ( reaching for her hips, he tries to make her arch up just enough that he can reach down and get his pants down enough to get his cock out. this doesn't need to be pretty or elegant, not right now. they can get to that later. )

[ It shouldn't feel this easy, this instinctive after however many years they've been apart from one another now and it almost infuriates her more that it does, that he can know her body as intimately as if he'd touched her only a day ago and know exactly how to touch her to wring the most damning sounds from her throat.

It makes her want to bear him down into the bed and ride him furiously while her hand is wrapped around his throat, keeping him from even saying as much as another word while she makes herself come on his cock. It makes her want to have him fuck her from behind so he can't see the truth of this in her face, crack his palm against her backside and take her mercilessly until she has to bite the pillow to keep from screaming and alerting the rest of the inn. Gentleness won't serve her well, not now.

She even hates him a little for telling her what to do, even though she knows the benefit of doing it now; her fingers dig into his shoulder and she hoists herself up onto her knees over him, lending him enough space between the vee of her thighs so that he can unfasten his pants and take himself out.

She won't wait, not long, maybe even nudging his hand out of the way so she can wrap her own fingers around the base of his cock and angle him right against her, seating herself down forcefully enough to make the breath rush out of her lungs, make her body tremble as she sheathes as much of him as possible in the hot grip of her cunt. ]

( geralt isn't surprised by the ferocity of her response. he's probably lucky that she even let him get his pants down just enough that he was able to get his cock out. as soon as he gets his hand around his dick, she's there, giving him something else to wrap around his cock.

he grits his teeth, reaching to steady her with his hands on her hips even if he doesn't think she needs it. yennefer is graceful and elegant at the worst of times and she knows what she's doing. he might know how to work her body but she knows how to work his too.

she takes him inside of her so quickly, so urgently that he loses his breath and gasps her name out before he leans in and presses his mouth against her heated skin, slicking his tongue over her nipple again. )

[ She's made a slight error in being so greedy for this; as soon as she plunges herself down on his cock, it's a sufficient shock to her nerves, suddenly going from emptiness to being so completely full of him, and she has to sit and take a breath for a moment, and then it's just the two of them sitting silent for a while, his hands on her hips and hers gripping his arms as she lets her cunt adjust to his girth.

It's his mouth on her that finally spurs her to start moving, his tongue swirling against the hardened peak of her nipple, and her hand flies up to keep him there, fingers tangling in his hair as she finally starts to ride him the way she'd assured him she would — long and slow movements that draw her up the length of his cock and back down again until he's fully buried, a small breath punched out of her lungs each time.

Pretty soon, she starts to moan from it, small sounds slipping through into every exhale, as her rhythm becomes more purposeful, dragging out the rolls of her hips each time she's got him balls-deep inside to rock back and forth. ]

( hearing her react to him, to his cock is exactly what he wants. he would have sent a smug smile up in her direction if she hadn't curled her hand around the back of his head and held him there like she doesn't want him to go anywhere.

geralt's content with letting her move, letting her dictate things because it's not like he doesn't get absolute enjoyment from feeling her raise up on his cock before sinking down, settling him deep inside of her. he pants, biting at her nipple before he looks up at her and finally gives her that grin that he's been wanting to.

his fingers rake along her back and he very seriously considers ripping her dress but doesn't just in case she doesn't have another one. )

[ It isn’t that she minds letting him take control while they’re fucking, but in this particular moment she wants to own it, especially since he’d caught her by surprise in approaching her downstairs; this, by extension, is her way of seizing it back, at least for the start of it in how she mounts his cock, how she rides him at her desired pace, how she urges him to her tits so he can suck and lick and bite at her until she’s wearing the marks from his mouth.

It’s when he glances up from her and delivers that grin, so blatant and self-satisfied, that she grips his face in her hand, digs her fingers into his jaw, and kisses him to try and wear that look off of his mouth. It likely won’t work, since he usually only enjoys it when she’s rougher with him, but it doesn’t mean she won’t make the attempt. ]

I hope you had no plans of going anywhere. [ She rounds her hips down on him again, hard enough for her to feel the vibration of impact when her thighs smack into his. ] Because you’re not leaving this bed now.

( oh, what a hardship that's going to be. staying in bed with her while they fuck each other to exhaustion. he thinks if that's how they're going to spend the time he's confined to this bed, then he can deal with it.

and he can't help but laugh again though that laugh quickly dissolves into a sharp moan when she sinks down on him, hard enough to send an answering shiver through his body. )

Fortunately for you, my plans tonight were minimal.

( if he hadn't run into her, all he would have done was drink and leave. )

Good. We're going to do this until I can't feel my legs, and then you're going to see about getting us some real food.

[ Real food, she means, and not whatever slop they're trying to pass off as edible downstairs, same as with the ale. But that's a distant consideration, and not one she's going to think about when she's occupied with something much more pressing — specifically, making herself come on Geralt's cock and then maybe taunting him enough so that he'll roll them over and thrust into her hard enough to test the very foundations of this bedframe. ]

More resting?

[ That is how he'd put it earlier, when it was the two of them sitting across a table from one another behaving as if it wasn't going to come down to this regardless, and she wraps her arms around him, draping them atop his shoulders as she rocks a little faster in his lap, seizing his next moan with another hungry press of her lips to his. ]

( oh, he does like when she gets demanding and stern. he's not going to tell her that but he thinks she knows. considering his size and strength, he should be the one doing the ordering but it's her, it's always been her.

he doesn't get a chance to answer her question because her mouth is there, making more demands that he is powerless to not give her. he splays a hand at the small of her back, giving her something to brace against and balance while she fucks herself down on his cock.

when she has to take a moment to breathe, he says: )

Do you need to go find your dear friend, Yennefer? Perhaps he's downstairs waiting for your return right now.

[ 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.

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