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The Midnight Lantern

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There was whispering amongst the whores that a witcher was in town. There had been a recent spike in dangers around the wilderness, and so a monster hunter was needed. While news of a witcher meant coin for the Madame, not many of the women were overly willing to lay with such a man. Witchers were dangerous, emotionless. Bedding a witcher was certainly a feat due to his strength and inhuman features, but it wasn't for the faint of heart. This was why you were one of the girls called to the front when the witcher finally made his way to The Midnight Lantern. You never startled easily, had a strong back and a stronger mind. The Madame lined you and three other girls up, others who she felt could handle a witcher's specific tastes. And the Madame was always right.

This witcher stalked. He wasn't particularly large or lumbering, still bigger than you or any of the other girls there. But the way he walked implied a hidden sort of power, a sort of restraint in every bend of a limb. He stayed in the shadows of the hallway for a few tense moments before stepping into the soft candlelight of the lounging room. A few gasps sounded from the girls next to you; you knew better than to react to any man's appearance at this point. Even though you had never seen a witcher before now, you didn’t let surprise color your features. He was frightening, though.

Golden eyes shone from under a heavy brow, pupils slitted and savage. His dark hair was parted down the middle and half of it hung awkwardly over the right side of his face. As if he wanted to shield it from discerning gazes. But nothing could hide the horrendous scarring that marred his cheek as well as the corner of his mouth and chin. Everything that he did from the moment he walked in, you started cataloguing and making mental notes of.

Do not mention the scarring. Keep yourself amiable. Stay reserved, but kind.

"As you can see, Master Witcher, our establishment has some of the finest women this side of the Pontar," Madame Detlira launched into her usual speech; at this point you knew the damn thing by heart. But the witcher was silent. He didn't even seem to acknowledge that she was there, his gaze instead focusing and narrowing on the women in front of him. He spent time looking at each one of you, eyes almost betraying an emotion whenever one of the girls flinched. But then his attention landed on you. He was intense, and could easily send any one of you into a fearful bout of terror. But your back straightened and you met his gaze head on. From what little you had seen of him so far, you could tell that this was not a man to cower before.

Not that you had ever cowered a day in your life.

"Of course, if you would prefer a man for the night, we are very discreet--"

"This one," he growled out with a voice like gravel, finger pointing at you. "I'll pay for the night in advance." A bag of coins was tossed at the Madame and she fumbled to catch it.

"Indeed, Master Witcher." She turned to address you. "Take our fine guest to the Mayflower suite." You nodded and spun on your heel, beckoning the witcher to follow. He padded along silently behind you, and you could practically hear the sigh of relief once you left the room. He followed you through the hallway and up the stairs, a solid presence behind you that was impossible to ignore. But something felt slightly different about the man. His aura wasn't choking you or oppressing you, not like some other patrons. In fact, he seemed to be trying to maintain a slight distance between the two of you.

It didn't matter to you if he was an odd one or not. Only that the job got done.

"Here we are," you said, stopping at the door to the Mayflower suite. Each room was named after a type of flower, and most days you found it rather charming. The Lavender suite had always been your favorite. The door swung open on silent hinges and you walked inside, already making your way to the candles in order to light them. Once you got to the first table, however, something made you pause. "Is something the matter, Master Witcher?" You asked, turning around to see him lingering in the open doorway.

"No. Nothing." He entered and shut the door behind him, plunging the room in darkness. Your heart rate spiked at the sudden lack of sight and you gripped the edge of the table in order to ground yourself. "Just... No lights, please."

He really was an odd one.

"Easily done. Although you will have to give me time to become used to it," you replied, nerves settling. Even though the doors to the rooms never locked, and you knew that a call would be all it took to have help come racing, being alone in the dark with a witcher was still a slightly anxiety-inducing experience. "For I can't exactly see at all, at the moment." Your ears pricked for the slightest of sounds, and you could sense him drawing closer.

"I wouldn't want you to become uncomfortable with my presence. I shall wait." He was polite. And he didn't make any moves to draw nearer. Your opinion of the man was changing by the second. Eventually, the room brightened ever so slightly, a sign that your eyes were finally becoming accustomed to the dark. You could see the surface of the table in front of you, and when you turned around the silhouette of the witcher was there. The sight almost made you jump, for his eyes were still ever so slightly visible in the dark. His head moved, and you lost sight of them.

"Why don't we get started, then?" You asked, swallowing back any kind of negative reaction and instead focusing on the man in front of you. He was paying for a service, and you intended to give it. Witcher or no. Your tone shifted into that of what you usually fronted for patrons. "Come on, Master Witcher." You reached out a hand and trailed it along his arm, grasping his wrist and tugging him forwards towards the bed. It was a risky business, trying to navigate in the dark, but you were able to make it to the bed without incident. "You paid for the whole night, and that's a very long time to be serviced, no?" Your hands moved from his arms to his chest, feeling the front of his jerkin under your fingers. "What would you have of me?"

"Your mouth."

"That can be easily arranged," you smirked, gently nudging him to sit down on the bed. You dropped to your knees in front of him and let your hands roam the expanse of his thighs. While you lamented the lack of effective sight, you still intended to at least allow yourself the pleasure of feeling his strong form under you. Your fingertips traced the laces to his codpiece as well as his belt and you moved to undo them. Years of experience gave you a much needed advantage to get the knots undone quickly and effectively. You hummed under your breath when the ties came loose, the buckle clinking as you popped the prong free from the punch hole it was threaded through. His trousers were undone and pushed to the sides of his hips.

A hand pressed up to the front of his braies, cupping around his length. Your brow furrowed when you felt that he was barely hard; most of the men by now would be ready and needy for your service. No matter. Perhaps witchers were simply a bit harder to get going than the average man. He did inhale a bit sharply at the contact, so you assumed that it was going well thus far. You let out another low hum as your fingers made their way to the ties of his braies and deftly undid them.

It certainly was a pity that it was so dark. Although you could make out the shape and outline of his cock, it was still very hard to see it fully. "Would you like me to undress you further?" You asked, trailing your fingertips down his legs to the laces of his boots.

"No. This is fine."

Wasn't he quite the talker?

"Very well." You responded, leaning forwards and nuzzling your cheek into his inner thigh. His breath was catching on the edges, like he was trying to stay in control of it. You almost wanted to see what he would be like when he lost his control. His control that so carefully bound him tightly. "Would you like me to use my mouth now? Or rather have me tease you just a bit longer?" Your hand moved to brush ever so slightly over the soft skin of his cock, still feeling the slight give that evidenced his lack of complete arousal.

"Do what you like." Now that was something a little new. It wasn't often that your patrons gave you free reign of what to do, save for a few. You bit your lower lip and heard another sharp intake of breath. Ah, so he was watching you. Well, a little show couldn't hurt then. You blinked slowly and let your teeth catch on your lip again, maneuvering your hand in order to get a full grip around him. He filled at your touch, albeit a bit more slowly than what you were used to. That was of no consequence, though. You worked in a brothel, and there was almost nothing that could make you blush or sneer anymore. You began to pump him slowly in your hand, getting a feel for his size and girth that your eyes would usually have the job of. He exhaled softly, and at the end of his breath you could hear just the slightest rumblings of a groan deep in his chest.

You were hit with a sudden wave of want. You wanted to pull those groans from his chest, to hear him growl with need. All of a sudden you were extremely glad that he had chosen you over the other whores. Chosen you to pleasure him, to handle his needs with a willing mouth and a soft hand. Perhaps even a wet cunt, if he wished. Melitele knows you'd want it, even crave it maybe.

Another low rumbling from within his chest, partnered with some deep inhales. You took it upon yourself in that moment to finally give him what he had requested, and lowered your mouth to brush your lips against the head of his cock. His foot gave a small jerk next to you, and you pressed an open-mouthed kiss to him. It only took another moment for you to get to work, dropping your head down in the experienced move of a professional. Your stunt pulled a strangled noise from him, and your lips curled in a smile as you pulled away to say:

"Do you like that, Master Witcher?" You could hear his hands clenching in the sheets next to him. You looked up and tried to discern his expression, but it was impossible to see anything more than those golden eyes shining ever so slightly in the dark. So you didn't wait for an answer but instead moved your head back down to once more wrap your lips around his erection. He was fully hard now, and you knew every trick in order to get him to shiver. The witcher was larger than most, not enough to be painful or challenging to handle. But enough to make you work to fit your mouth around him, carefully minding your teeth.

It took a bit longer than usual, to bring him to the edge. But every so often you could hear his breathing shake, that tight control unraveling. You inhaled deeply and held it before sliding all the way down until your nose brushed against the slight dusting of hair at the root of his cock. He finally groaned out loud at that, fully and unrepentantly. The sheets rustled as his white-knuckled grip threatened to tear them. You hummed around him and let your free hand move outwards, across his knee and up the outside of his thigh, until it finally landed on his clenched fist. The witcher jolted at the touch as you pulled back far enough to say, "You can touch."

Your hand curled around his and eased it out of its tight grasp, guiding it all the way to the back of your head. You trusted that he would be careful, and it seemed that he needed something other than the sheets to ground him. "Do you want to come? In my mouth?" You asked, laving your tongue across the head of his shaft.

"Fuck, I do." He replied, fingers tangling in your hair. It seemed like he was finally getting comfortable. "I can?" You almost laughed at the question. It certainly wasn't often that your clients asked. Instead of responding, you merely hummed around him and upped the speed of your movements, sucking him in deep and running your fingertips across his hip bone. The witcher let out another groan and the mattress depressed as he leaned back on his elbow, hand still combing through your hair. His hips jolted below you but never fully thrust; it was like he was trying to avoid mistreating you.

It only took a few scant moments after that for him to come with a low growl. Several hot spurts of seed flooded your mouth and painted your tongue. You continued your ministrations, albeit a bit gentler than before, and made to swallow every drop. "Fuck," he repeated, collapsing back onto the bed as his arm gave out from under him. You lingered just a bit longer and pressed careful kisses to the head of his cock until he let out a low strained whine. Standing up, you shook your legs a few times in order to loosen up the tenseness in your knees.

"Are you pleased with that, Master Witcher?" You asked, climbing up to straddle his hips. "What other pleasures can I offer you for the night?" His relaxed bliss ended almost immediately and he stiffened up under you, not in a good way. You tilted your head and attempted to discern his expression, but his face was still shrouded in shadow. No doubt he could see you perfectly, enhanced eyes roving your form. But he seemed reserved again, carefully strung up.

"Yes. Thank you." He replied, hands moving to your waist. "That was, more than enough." His grip tightened ever so slightly as he made to push you off of him. "I shall not trouble you further."


What was he saying?

You couldn't wrap your head around his words, simply letting him slide out from under you and refasten his braies and trousers. The clinking of his belt buckle was the only noise; his breathing had calmed post-orgasm. Did he not want more? The witcher paid for the full night, and he intended to leave?

"Wait!" You exclaimed, standing up and attempting to fix him with your confused countenance. "You paid for the whole night, why are you leaving?"

"I paid for my release, and extra for the trouble of servicing one such as I." Was all he said, closed off and quickly making his way to the door. You wanted to give chase, but why, you didn't know. Instead you just stood behind him and tried to understand what was going on. Didn't he want to stay and make his visit worth the money paid? "I appreciate your efforts, you need not tell the Madame that I have left. Spend the rest of the night at your leisure."

"But I--" You were cut off by the door opening, and the light pouring in temporarily blinded you. Your hand immediately rushed to cover your eyes and you blinked as you tried to adjust to the sudden influx of bright lighting. When you moved your hand away and looked around, he was gone.

The witcher had departed without another word.