The wind blew gently outside the ruined inn, softly whistling past the shattered timbers and torn tapestries that had once constituted a whole, if rather rundown, structure. It was a far cry from the tempest that had raged a mere hour earlier, threatening to tear the building from its foundations. Of course, that tempest had been the result of an air djinn, an angry and malicious one at that, who had been intent on just two things: freedom and revenge.
Geralt’s wish had denied him the later, but in the end, the djinn hadn’t seemed to mind. The creature had flown three times around the destruction he and Yennefer had rained down upon the town of Rinde, and flew off. Geralt knew he wouldn’t see the djinn again and the town had been saved, but that was not on his mind at the moment. No, he had far more pleasant things to focus on.
Yennefer. She was an enigma, this beautiful woman in his arms. He couldn’t describe how he felt; he had never felt anything similar to it before. Somehow, he missed kissing her, even though they had spent the last hour making the most passionate and tender love he had ever experienced in his long life. He ached to kiss her again, to cover her pale pink nipples with his mouth and feel them harden inside it. And he longed to enter her once more, to feel her stretch around him and have her ripple against him as she screamed into her ecstasy. He could not have enough of her. He would never have enough of her. He didn’t have the words to describe how he felt. He didn't like grand words. He was a witcher; witchers don’t feel.
Yennefer turned towards him, her inky curls spreading along his scarred shoulder. Her lips quirked upwards slightly, her violet eyes glinting with playfulness. “Fuck. She’s a sorceress. She can probably read minds.” He thought to himself. It didn’t matter. He leaned in to kiss her again, unable to hide his intentions.
“I believe,” she said as he pulled away, her breath shallow. “I believe we should consider rejoining the party. They are waiting for us.”
“I am not concerned about them.” Geralt said as he cupped her breast. His cock bumped against the dip of her hips. She rolled into him.
“Geralt...,” she giggled, breathier this time. She moaned as he brushed her core. “We, we can’t stay…” Yennefer gasped as he entered her. “We....oh...oohhh.” She rocked against him, pulling his mouth to her's as he filled her.
They stayed for another hour.
Basking in the afterglow of their lovemaking session, Yennefer hummed slightly as she traced his scars. The wind gently sang through the broken-down building and stars started to peak through the ruined beams as evening fell upon them. Geralt sighed in contentment.
“How did you get this one?” she asked. She was referring to the rather gruesome scar he had that began under his left nipple and ended on along his ribcage. Once an angry red, time had faded it to pink.
“Courtesy of a particularly fast foglet. The damn thing evaded my moon dust bomb and I couldn’t see it, and it surprised me. My armor was destroyed.”
Yennefer was quiet for a moment, contemplating that. “And this?” Her fingers danced along the jagged mark by his navel, making his cock twitch. He truly could not have enough of her.
“That one,” he said, trying to focus. “That one was from your standard leshen. I’ll be honest with you, I really dislike dealing with them. But the money is generally better than the average pay, especially for an ancient leshen. I almost always leave those fights with a new mark, though."
"You do?" She asked dryly.
"No witcher dies in his bed. My destiny is to likely die in some swamp or forest when a contract goes wrong. It’s the destiny of every witcher on the Path.” He reached to kiss her again, but she sat up and pulled one of her discarded items of clothing to her chest. He felt her putting walls around herself. “Yen, what’s wrong?”
“Nothing.” She turned away. "We should get going.” She stood and began to dress.
“Yennefer, what is it, what’s the matter?”
“I said nothing,” she stated. “Where are my damn boots?” She looked frustrated and he could hear her heart rate beginning to pick up.
“What did I say?” Geralt was confused. How had the atmosphere changed so drastically in such a short time?
“Is that how it is with witchers?" She stammered out. "A destiny of death by the hands of some monster?”
“What else would it be?”
“Nothing,” she huffed. “Nothing at all." She looked at him, her violet eyes flashing. "She wants me to say something," Geralt thought. "But I don't know what to say..."
She sighed loudly. "Let’s just go Let’s go find the others.”
“Yennefer, wait,” he grabbed her hand. She stopped, and he could hear her heartbeat racing in the chest. “Yen…,” he whispered softly. “Yen, it’s ok.” He gently pulled her into him, carding his fingers through her wild dark curls. She let out a shaky breath as she buried her face into his chest. She kissed a light scar on his collarbone. “Cockatrice,” he laughed, “But it was a baby one.” He felt her smile against his skin. He didn’t think he had ever felt anything more perfect.
“So this is how it’s going to be?” she said as she looked up at him. “This is what being with a witcher is like? No wonder the bard nearly died.”
Gerlat chuckled. “He almost died because he’s a rash fool. But, what do you mean, being with a witcher?” Try as he might, he couldn’t hide the hope and longing in his voice.
“Well, I can’t possibly leave you now, Witcher. Not after that wish of yours.” Yennefer’s hands traveled lower on his body. Geralt inhaled sharply.
“No, no I suppose you shouldn’t. It would be rather reckless of you, considering our fates are joined.” He started to kiss her neck and unbutton the shirt she had just put on.
“Mmmmm, my thoughts exactly," she said as got onto her knees and gave him the most deliciously dirty grin before licking the tip of his cock with her delicate pink tongue. His breath hitched as she made her way down his shaft.
"Yen...," he moaned.
Dandelion and Chireadan would need to wait a bit longer.